Brian struggled to bring the box of decorations out of the closet. He practically had to push it along with his hands to where the tree stood. But the actual act of decorating seemed to take forever—for every time he brought out one of the decorations, he'd look at it for a minute, then remember.
God, how he missed him. He'd been gone almost the whole year, and still it hurt. The decorations were some of Justin's favorites, and he looked forward to seeing them out. But since he went to New York, it was hard for Brian to get in the spirit. Oh, he wasn't becoming Ebeneezer Scrooge by any stretch of the imagination, but without Justin, he just didn't feel like celebrating.
It wasn't that he didn't have invitations. Everyone, knowing how sad he felt, offered to let him celebrate with them, but he'd just refuse and drown in eggnog—heavy on the rum.
Finally, everything was out—and Brian was worn out. He trudged back to bed, changed into his nightclothes, and fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. As he turned over, a stray tear dampened his pillow. How he wished Santa would bring Justin back to him.