He wielded the scissors roughly. At least it wouldn't be the worst one on display. Surely there was a snowflake done by a preschooler that he could compete with. I'm really botching this. He glanced up. Thankfully she was busy helping customers, so when he wiped his sweaty hand on his leg, she didn't notice. Why did I agree to this again? Oh yes. Her. The scissors gave a final snip around the corner and he placed them on the table. Shaking his hand a little, he tried to air it out. By the fire, there was no risk of him catching a chill. That is to say, it was pretty warm. Maybe it wasn't nerves making him sweat after all.

"Oh that's brilliant! Well done!" She beamed at him as she slid a cappuccino onto the small table.

"For a three year old, you mean," he teased. Now that it was finished, it didn't look as bad as he imagined. Holding it up, he tilted his head a bit to get a different angle on it.

"That's enough of that, thank you. I'll have you know I don't give out scissors to three year olds around here, so you're on par with a five year old."

He snorted.

"You'll just be adding another unique snowflake in a sea of snowflakes," she said airily as she took a seat in the armchair across from him tucking a leg underneath her.

"Thank you, for this, by the way," he picked up the hot drink in front of him, inhaling before taking a sip.

"Oh, it's nothing. I feel guilty, I practically threatened you to come back," she giggled. "You really didn't have to though, I was just feeling a little cheeky that morning."

Suddenly, he found himself flailing to catch the pen she tossed at him.

"You'll have to sign your artwork, like a proper artist," she winked.

"Right." After a final flourish, he put the pen down. "Here you are, one autographed abominable snowthing."

"Ah, thank you kind sir, this is going in the gallery right now."

Not only did she already know this was John Bates as she spied his signature on the edge, but she now knew he lived in the flat below hers. After their meeting, she waited the rest of the day to scope out the buzzers in their building. What she didn't know was how she could broach the subject without sounding like a complete stalker. Nothing ruins an introduction better than 'oh, I watch you from the window…I live right above you…you make my heart race…you smell amazing.'

It only took her a minute to string it up near the counter before she strolled back to him. He was clearly feeling out of his element. She must've watched him try to dry his hands twice already, and that could be down to either how close he was to the fire or something else. Now was her chance.

"So, Mr Bates," she startled him. "I'm Anna." When he simply blinked in response, she started to worry. "I'm sorry, I hope I don't sound creepy, I read your signature when I was hanging it up, I just thought I should introduce myself….formally."

"No, no, I'm sorry, I'm afraid you caught me off guard there." She did, but only because his name on her lips was one of the sweetest things he'd ever heard. Only one thing could top it. "Call me John." He reached out his hand for her to shake. "Mr. Bates seems too…stuffy."

She took his hand. "Nice to meet you, John," she grinned and curled back up in her chair again.

He sighed. There it was. It sounded even sweeter than he imagined.

The bell over the door tinkled as several customers made their way in. He watched as she greeted them from her seat and added a friendly wave.

"I shouldn't keep you," he started. With his cup empty and his snowflake mission fulfilled, his anxiety was climbing. It was already so bold of him to follow through, but now he was flying with no fuel. He was in uncharted territory.

"Oh nonsense, that's what employees are for."

"So you're the owner of this fine establishment, then?"

"Guilty," she shrugged. "I don't get many perks, but I'd say I'm entitled to a sit-down whenever I please." She smirked, "Not that I take too many breaks anyway. There's always something that needs doing."

"Perhaps, but I'm sure it doesn't always need to be done by you."

"Well, good luck telling that to my guilt," she rolled her eyes.

In the moment of silence that followed, his mind scrambled for something to say. It was getting harder to focus as he took a second to observe her in her element. Just resting. Her head tipped back and she closed her eyes to bask in the heat from the fire. The hearth crackled and spit beside them. He had to admit the whole atmosphere felt like a hug. Every few seconds he could hear the rustling of waxy papers and the rip of cello tape closing boxes before the clinks and clanks of the register rang clearer, breaking him from his trance. And, by God, is it getting hotter in here?

He cleared his throat. "You were right, by the way." Now it was her turn to blink at him trying to decipher that. "Your gingerbreads are amazing."

"Ah, I'm so glad you liked it." She smiled widely. This was the opening she was waiting for. "So…about that 'relatable bloke,' I can't help but wonder, if you don't mind me asking, I see you don't have a cane today. I know it's not any of my business and I hope I'm not prying, but…"

He shifted in his seat.

She was terrified. Her mother used to say, 'Worry makes ramblers of the best of us.' And that was exactly what was happening. Are you doing everything in your power to scare this man away? After all of her time spent in quiet observation, she finally got him to herself for a moment and she was about to offend him. Who does this, Anna? You just introduced yourself seconds ago, and you're just going to go straight for the most personal questions? You're an idiot.

She sighed, "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I was thinking, sometimes my mouth just runs away from me."

"It's alright, I don't mind," he replied.

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until then.

"I don't always need it," he continued. "It's, uh, an old war wound of sorts. It plays up every now and then and I have to pull out the cane. I can manage."

"Of course you can. I'm sorry that's something you have to deal with."

"It is what it is," he gave her a wry grin.

"Is it something that can be fixed?"

"Not for lack of trying, I can assure you. Something medically technical and complicated about it damaging other things too much in the process that it does more harm than good at this point." He shrugged. "I'm sure sometime down the road it'll need tending."

The pained look on her face tugged at him. It's not a look that should ever grace her features. Unfortunately, the more she found out about him, the more likely it was that he'd see it. This is dangerous, you're in trouble, John. Don't get too comfortable. "It's alright, though. I never had a future as a footballer anyway," he smirked.

Her laugh almost made him forget. As much as he craved a change, he knew he couldn't allow himself to be too free with her. There was a reason he kept himself to himself, and he couldn't go pulling her into his troubles. His chest tightened when he thought about leaving her. Coming into the shop, even the first time, was such a massive deviation from his routine and he shocked himself by following through and coming back. If he were honest with himself he knew he needed it, and his mind would never leave him alone if he didn't explore further. But now that he'd spent time with her, he found himself digging a deeper hole for himself than he'd bargained for. How could he go back to just catching glimpses of her here and there? Especially not now as it seemed she was more than content to spend time with him. Maybe just this once, it would be okay to dream. It's Christmas.

"I have a bit of a confession to make." Her voice jarred him from his brooding. She fiddled with the ring on her forefinger before taking a breath to start again. "I've seen you before….that is, to say, I've noticed you. We live in the same building, so I've seen you coming and going, you see."

The thought alone made his heart pound. She noticed him, enough to remember him. With or without a cane, she recognized him and that alone made him feel lighter than he had in a long time. Suddenly, the arguments in his head were silenced. They were his constant companions for years. He couldn't remember the last time his mind was so quiet or calm.

"Oh you have, have you?" He feigned ignorance, trailing off to pick at a fuzz on his sleeve, but her fierce blush made him continue. "I suppose I should confess too." The corner of his mouth twitched when she met his eyes. "I know. I've noticed you too."

Now she wasn't the only one blushing.

"What's more is that I'm pretty sure I know where you live." He rolled his eyes as soon as the last word left his mouth. "Christ, that makes me sound like a right creep doesn't it?"

She giggled. "No…well, maybe a little, but no more than me, I guess." It was then that she decided to keep mum about the directory. There was no better scenario than not even needing to bring it up, at least not at the moment. It appeared that her mouth had run away with her again just by bringing up the subject in the first place. They say that ripping off a plaster is the best way to get it off as opposed to slowly peeling it back, so she figured it was better to just have it all out at once and let the consequences sort themselves out in the end. What she didn't expect was his response. Of all the things he could've said, this one made her chest flutter. He had noticed her too.

"If I were to guess, I'd say I think you live a floor above me."

"How, how…why would you say that?" She stammered.

"Because there's someone on the next floor up who's made it their job to blast Christmas carols endlessly, and the signs point to you," he flailed his hand with his words. "…and the fact that you were humming Feliz Navidad when I came in after hearing it last in the lineup this morning."

"Oh. My. God. No. You HEAR them??" Now she was mortified. If he could see her face behind her hands, she was sure it'd be as white as the snowflakes overhead.

He chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the whole building can hear them."

"I'm so embarrassed," she groaned. "I had no idea. If I knew, I would never, oh my God. I'm so sorry it's bothered you, honestly, I feel terrible now."

"Don't. It's charming." The look she gave him was clearly disbelieving. "I mean, it wasn't at first, but I have to admit it started to get through to my Scrooge heart."

She pursed her lips at him.

Neither one of them knew what to say next. The ice was broken, but both were afraid of a misstep, so they sat fidgeting in silence for a moment. She spoke first.

"You know, I always hoped you'd notice me and say something. But you always seemed so busy I didn't want to be rude and interrupt."

He snorted. God, I wish you did. If you only knew. "That's funny, I guess I think I was hoping for you to do the same. I felt I didn't have the right."

"Oh that's just nonsense."

"I see you everywhere, but I never thought you noticed me."

"Well, I'll have you know that I know which train you need to catch and when you get home. Always with a newspaper. Always like clockwork. Now, if that doesn't make ME sound like a creep, I don't know what will."

The crinkles around his eyes captivated her as he chuckled.

Conversation with her was just so easy. The minutes flew and they found themselves still tucked up in the cozy corner of the shop for quite some time. She's gotten up once or twice to tend to things behind the counter, but she gave no indication she wanted him to leave. In fact, she made a point to nearly demand he stay put, and every time she returned to their spot. It brought him hope like he hadn't felt in a long time. He supposed that was the magic of the season; anything was possible. If he gave it some time the novelty would fade, he was sure of it.

"So, tomorrow…Christmas Eve," she ventured, "Would you happen to have plans?" Here goes your mouth again, Anna. "My friend is always badgering me to bring someone to their party. It's always a pretty big do and I've dodged it for a few years now. I'm at that point where I have to make an appearance," she giggled nervously. She wasn't about to mention how she's tried to make herself scarce some years just to make them quiet. It always felt like a slight imposition to be at their house and be treated like family when she had one—not that they cared to include her, or even reach out, but that was a topic for another time. Mary was relentless with her and always made her make up for not attending in some way. At least if she brought a date, she could avoid the matchmaking attempts, and then she could have him all to herself again.

"Actually, I do," he said.

Oh, Anna, of course he does. Of course he has someone—some place to be. How silly of you to think he's truly unavailable. Appearances aren't always what they seem, right?

"It's a work thing," he continued. "Well, kind of….not really. It's my boss. He has this party every year and really the family is my family too." His hands flailed adorably. "I'm not explaining this well. They've sort of adopted me and ever since I've been in town, I've made a point to be there, to show my appreciation."

"It's ok. I understand. I hope you enjoy yourself." She'd be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed, but it was a shot in the dark anyway. Technically, they'd only just met, but it didn't feel that way. It was funny that she'd really only known this man for a matter of a couple of hours, but in her heart it felt like it was much longer. In all the time she'd been observing him, she'd made a careful study of him and he was always so prompt. Punctual, even. He was always so meticulously turned out and following his regime. Never did she see him with someone else, at least not as a friend, or maybe she just convinced herself of that. There was something about him, though, that resonates with her. It was as if deep down, they were connected. Her brief time with him here cemented it for her and she was sure he felt it too. He's allowed to be cautious, after all, we are practically strangers.

"Not likely. They've got some traditions I'd rather not be a part of, if I'm honest. But I do owe them quite a bit, so, going along with it is the least I can do I guess."

Invite her. He knew where the thought came from, but it didn't mean it was welcome. Inside, his mind and his heart waged a battle. There was no denying he wanted her. He wanted to spend time with her, to get to know her better and to feel a connection with someone for the first time in a long time. He didn't know what he was thinking playing with fire like this. If she didn't seem interested, at least he could stop in for a coffee and some quips every so often, and enjoy just being near her as an unwitting party. Watching her from a distance would be enough. But now, they've crossed that divide and she seemed much more eager than he could've ever anticipated. It was never his intention for his visits to lead anywhere. Never for a second did he expect her to be interested in him, let alone hear how she watches him just the same. It had felt too good. He was thankful for the glimpse of what they could be—the possibilities that he could almost picture ahead of him, and, not for the first time, he wished he was someone else. A different man with a different life. Instead, here he was, berating himself for allowing himself to play the charade like he was a man free to act on his feelings. He'd never forgive himself for leading her on. At least he could spare her pain by putting an end to things before they could even start.

She deserved better than a fool like him.

"You wouldn't want me with you anyway." He thought it sounded like a gentle way to let her down, his heart disagreed.

"I'm sure that's not true. Whyever not?" She cocked her head to the side playfully.

"You'll just have to believe me. I'm not worth your time, I assure you. It was a mistake to come here." He moved to stand, his heart pleaded with him to sit.

"Anna," a voice called from behind the counter. "I'm leaving now."

"Alright I'll be right there," she raised her voice before quietly directing her gaze at him. "Okay. I can take a hint."

"It's not like that, I prom—"

"It's alright, Mr Bates, I see how it is and I'm sorry you feel that way." She stood, brushing her hands down her front briefly. "I hope that you have a fine holiday. I wish you well." She meant it.

He didn't know what to say. There wasn't anything to be said or done that would repair the damage. He wasn't about to spill his life's story there in the shop—especially not now. It's better this way.

"I hope you have a Merry Christmas, Anna."

She was already almost behind the counter.

I'm Sorry.

I'm sorry. It has to happen.

It'll get better, I promise. Pinky promise. Scouts honor.

I hope everyone had a lovely holiday :)