13- that's just how it goes ~ cioccolata x male!reader

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request: cioccolata x male reader

i forgot to add that the previous oneshot was requested as well, and also by the same person! im sorry im late with your requests, here they are :)

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What a lonely Christmas.

Cioccolata never really liked the holidays. It wasn't something he looked forward to, or expected much of. He only ever tolerated participating in them thanks to you.

The brilliant light your smile would give when you'd see the Christmas trees from a shops window was astounding, it'd almost upset him when he'd have to pull you back to your hospital bed to rest.  

The darling giggles you would made when he gave you a lovingly wrapped present were music to his ears. After all, it's not just any man that made him happy, it was you! Oh, what he would give to hear that laughter again and again!

Yes, Cioccolata never much cared for the holidays, but you always managed to make them so magical that he couldn't resist but to enjoy them.

The faint carols from outside the empty white room you were refined in mimicked themselves in your light hums, hands always busy on doing one thing or another to entertain you in Cioccolatas absence. More often then not, you would practice crochet, whether people called it girly or not. 

It's not like the things you made were for you anyway;  Cioccolata just doesn't know when to wear a hat in such cold weather! He might've been frozen to bits had it not been for you!

with each Christmas that passed, the less you could peek out your window to see the lit trees in the shops, and the harder it was to understand the words those carolers sang. Everything grew numb, and all would go silent.

Yes, not only in your ears, but later in Cioccolatas home. It was almost Christmas time again, and not a single decoration was found anywhere.

A peculiar urn was poised heart-breakingly above a kindled fire, the fun little crotched hat a certain someone had made for Cioccolata sitting on its lid.

The green-haired man in question sat idle on his couch, alone, staring longingly into the jar decorated with designs of snowflakes and gentle winter. 

It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. There would be no going to the hospital to see you. There would be no making of presents. There would be no colorful hat for him to wear this time around.

There was no more point.

What a lonesome Christmas.

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