The warm crackle of the fireplace filled the room, soft orange light looming over the walls of our little shared dorm. The air smelled faintly of pine, thanks to the dinky, slightly crooked Christmas tree we'd managed to decorate together. I called it 'a miracle it was still standing.' What a Debbie downer I am.

He had insisted we cuddle by the fire—it was 'for the Christmas spirit,' he said. And well, how could I argue with that? It wasn't like I didn't enjoy it. Goob's long, noodly arms were draped all over me, pulling me close against his chest. He was warm, his voice soft as he occasionally hummed some off-key tune that vaguely sounded like a carol.

It was cute! Well, almost cute. If it weren't for the claws.

Goob hadn't trimmed them in... honestly, I didn't know how long. And they were sharp enough to leave little scratches wherever they pressed against me. At first, it was just minor stings—barely worth mentioning. But as time went on, the constant shifting and fidgeting, paired with his long limbs, meant I was accumulating an increasing number of tiny, unintentional cuts. The way they pressed into my skin now was starting to sting. The more he shifted to get comfortable, the more they nicked me.

Still, I didn't say anything.