A/N. Written for the 'Home for the Holidays' challenge from thursday100. I own nothing. Cheers.
Carmel Hills had been the same thing as every year: cold, sterile, and forcedly cheery. For most, there would be no family to share the lukewarm cups of hot chocolate that the staff handed out as a Christmas Eve "treat". Even now the liquid churned in Bobby's stomach as he turned the keys to his apartment in the lock.
He looked into the dark, ordered neatness of his home, full of worldly possessions, and yet somehow so empty. Glancing at the clock, he sighed. 12:01 a.m.
Merry Christmas to me.
He fell into bed and dreamt of childhood, of gingerbread and snow fights and the warmth of a mother's arms.