He picked up the package and looked back at me. "Should I open it now?"
"Whenever you want, bud. Though I’m curious to know what it is."
He sat on the edge of the bed and carefully unwrapped it, taking his time with the paper like he wanted to preserve it. When he finally revealed the pajamas, he went completely still.
"Oh," he breathed.
I watched his face carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. His fingers traced over the elephant print, and I could see the moment emotion threatened to overwhelm him.
"They're perfect," he whispered. "How did they know?"
It took everything in me not to confess right then. To tell him it was me, that I'd chosen them specifically because I wanted him to have something that let him be little without feeling self-conscious about it.
Instead, I moved to sit beside him on the bed. "Your Secret Santa has good taste."
"They really do." He held the pajamas up, examining them. "I've wanted something like this for so long, but I always talked myself out of buying it. Told myself it was silly, or that I didn't need them, or?—"
"Hey." I put my hand on his knee. "It's not silly. And you do need them. You need things that make you happy, that let you be yourself."
He looked at me, eyes shining. "You really think so?"
"I know so."
He set the pajamas carefully on the bed and then launched himself at me, wrapping his arms around my neck. I caught him easily, holding him close.
"Thank you," he murmured against my shoulder.
"I didn't do anything."
"You're here. That's everything. I’m not opening this up alone." He pulled back to look at me. "Can I put them on?"
"Of course. You don't have to ask permission for that, bud."
"I know, I just—" He bit his lip. "Will you stay? While I change?"
The vulnerability in the question made my chest ache. He wasn't just asking me to stay in the room. He was asking me to see this part of him, to witness him embracing his little side.
"I'm not going anywhere," I promised.
He grabbed the pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the water run briefly—him probably brushing his teeth—and then he emerged.
The pajamas fit him perfectly. The pants hit right at his ankles, and the shirt was loose and comfortable looking. But more than that, he looked… soft. Younger. The stress lines that had been etched into his face when he first arrived had smoothed out, and standing there in his elephant pajamas, he looked content.
"What do you think?" he asked, doing a small turn. There was shyness in the gesture, but also pride.
"I think you look perfect," I said honestly. "The elephants suit you."
His smile could have lit up the whole room. "Yeah? They’re my favorite."
"Yeah." I stood and crossed to him, running my hands down his arms. "Comfortable?"
"So comfortable." He pressed into my touch. "I feel… I don't know. Safe? Is that weird?"
"Not even a little bit." I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "That's exactly how you should feel."
He wrapped his arms around my waist and just stood there, letting me hold him. I could feel some of the tension he'd been carrying drain away, his body relaxing into mine.
"I wish I knew who my Secret Santa was," he said after a moment. "I want to thank them properly."
