The past year, spent working for Santos Escobar, has been a revelation. Before, Raul Mendoza was fine fighting his way up the ranks in 205 Live, sometimes on NXT, but then Santos had made himself a part of Raul's existence, the day he'd snagged him out of the parking lot, looked him in the eye, and told him, simply, I want you. Joaquin had joined them a few weeks later, but it was that time he'd had alone with Santos that had reshaped him as a person, as a competitor, and he had helped do the same for Joaquin.

But there's still a pivotal moment, where Raul had first felt like he was living when Santos had taken him by the arm and guided him into a fancy looking store, clucking under his breath about how people who work for him have to look the part, and not like some scared child. Which Raul thinks is exactly what he was- what Joaquin had been- before Santos had chosen them, saved them from their existence of loneliness and pain. Raul was an unknown and Joaquin had a name, but he was fighting just to survive after injury after injury after injury. The comfort of Santos' money and influence at both of their backs was a relief, a god send, almost.

So now Raul is here, sitting quietly in Santos' lounge, staring at the large Christmas tree dominating the room, waiting to be joined by his fellows. The bar is fully stocked, as it always is, and he can hear Santos shuffling around in the other room, staff bustling elsewhere. It's peaceful, calm, quiet. For the first time in a long time, he feels happy.It's the holidays, and Santos had invited he and Joaquin over for some Christmas celebrations, and it's just going to be the three of them, sitting around, talking, as they have done so much over the last few months.

Then there's the part of Raul that wishes, for a brief, selfish moment, that it could just be he and Santos, but that is ridiculous. He had had Santos all to himself for months before Joaquin had joined them, there's no need to be so greedy with their leader's time right now. So he greets Joaquin with a smile and a brisk hug once the man arrives, looking calm and relaxed as he saunters in in a priceless suit, easy grin on his face. "Hey, what's a guy got to do to get some music going around here?" he asks teasingly and Santos, walking in behind him, waves a hand dismissively.

"If you want some, you know where to go, mi amigo," he says cheerfully and settles in across from Raul. Joaquin grins and moves to the impressive media system Santos had set up at his recommendation, fiddling around with settings and playlists before finding just the perfect one for Christmas- not too boring, but not too rambunctious either, keeping the volume low so they can just hear its vibes over what they're talking about.

No business, Santos had insisted. Raul mulls over that, the pensive, quiet look on his face as he'd informed them when he'd invited them over the other day. We have had over almost a full year together, and it has been magical, but now I would like to get to know you both better. Talk about our pasts, our present, the things we'd like to accomplish in the future. I want to hear it all.

There are these moments, Raul knows, that proves that Santos is more than just a wrestler looking for quick wins, more opportunities to defeat those in his way. They're more than just henchmen or whatever title WWE commentary may try to shoehorn them into. The hours Legado Del Fantasma spend together prove that, Santos honestly seeming to care about them as people, not just as warm bodies to do his bidding. He still remembers the feel of the man's hand as he'd come into the ring and carefully wiped some blood from Raul's lip after a particularly rough tag match that he and Joaquin had just won.

So he smiles and takes the glass of wine that Santos offers with a wink, turning to give Joaquin one as well. It's a quiet, gentle moment as the three of them shuffle to sit close to the tree, Joaquin sipping his drink as he looks up at it, dark eyes searching out each and every ornament hanging there, daunting in how expensive they look. Santos is talking, telling a story about his beginning days in wrestling, and Raul can't take his eyes off of him. How the Christmas lights reflect off of his eyes, flash against his teeth every time he laughs or grins.

It's here, at this Christmas, that Raul finally connects the dots of something that just feels like it's been part of his identity for the last few months, growing under the surface, claiming more and more of him until he couldn't hide from it any longer.

I love this man.