Note: This was a Christmas present for a friend, who requested anything "so long as it's in haiku".

OCD at Christmas

“Michael, if you think
of touching the tree again,
you’re couched for a month!”

Michael jumps, blushes,
“I just had to fix one thing!
Can’t you just let me –“

Paul gives him a Look.
“Robbie decorated it.
Leave it; it looks fine.”

Michael makes a face.
He’s OCD and knows it;
calls it his excuse.

“It makes me twitchy.
Colour coordination –
It wouldn’t take long!”

Paul snorts, rolls his eyes,
wraps his arms around his waist.
“No.” Kisses his nose.

Michael pouts and sighs.
“He did a very good job.
It’s very … unique.”

They look at the tree,
ornaments helter-skelter,
no order to them.

Paul starts to giggle.
“I bet this drives you crazy,
but Robbie’s happy.”

Michael bites his lip.
“You know, when I was little …
We didn’t have one.”

Paul’s eyebrows furrow.
“What, you mean a Christmas tree?
Why? That’s horrible!”

“Dad didn’t want one,
since my little sister died.
He said no Christmas.

“Mum was Catholic
and it really bothered her,
but what could you do?”

Paul breathes through his nose.
“It’s not like that anymore.
I just won’t let it.”

Michael smiles for real.
“I know you won’t, and thank you.
You’re my family.”

“Darn right,” Paul says,
“You’d better not forget it;
we would hunt you down.”

Michael laughs, hugs him;
they kiss, bathed in Christmas lights,
and Paul is happy.