~"Liar, liar..."~ (Mortality x Reader)

1

You sighed quietly, staring out your frostbitten window. It's Christmas Eve and you've hardly received any cards - aside from your immediate family, you hadn't even gotten any presents. As a bit of a social outcast by your own accord, you regretted your antisocial behaviors of the past few years; having rejected 'secret santa' presents from those you've once considered good friends of yours, admittedly quite bluntly refusing to get any presents for anyone, and god forbid not being a dedicated enough Christian for anyone from your old town to enjoy your presence. A bit of a Scrooge archetype, some would say. Hearing someone at least twice your age coo "Oh, dearie, you need to smile more!" was the bane of your existence at family gatherings.

Turning around, you glanced at your sorry excuse for a Christmas tree, lacking of enough baubles or ornaments to look nearly festive enough. You looked away, embarrassed, somewhat akin to if you had accidentally made eye contact with a stranger. 

The wind from outside hit you in a surprisingly cold draft, making you shiver even in your sweater. You went back to the window and slammed it shut, freezing your fingers a tad bit. You shook your hands at the unpleasant sensation and looked outside again, noticing how starry it was outside. Mixed with the snowfall and the streetlights, it was mesmerizing. A bit relaxing, too. It made you - you yawned - a little tired. 

You ambled on to your room, changing into a warm nightgown from your dresser. You lowered your curtains and turned out your light. Alas, the world might mildly dislike you as much as you might mildly dislike it, but at least you have a comfy bed. 

As your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard a distant clacking, like two ornaments hitting each other. In a gentle haze, you got up from your bed. Your head hurt for a second and your vision faded, affirming that you definitely forgot to eat dinner tonight. You went back to the living room, checking to see if anything had happened to make that sound. 

Nope. Just your head, you mumbled to yourself. Go to sleep. It's almost midnight.

You gave into your thoughts and went back to your room, your floorboards ever so quietly creaking under your weight.

Once again, on the delicate cusp of sleep, you heard something odd.

Distant music.