Author's Note: An early Christmas Fic… because it's Christmas and I'm unbelievably happy (no kidding)… and omghappyholidays!! *spazz* (Thank you Miko, for this fic's title. XD) Hope you guys like it. ^_^
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto
Winter Solstice
Silent Night, Holy Night…
The choir is talented, their singing soft and melodic, like velvet brushing against velvet. (A play, Sasuke, a Nativity play!) But to you, their voices sound like the grating friction of fingernails against a blackboard, only inciting a pounding headache that leaves you wishing for a swift, swift end – to yourself, or to their singing, you no longer know, and you suspect that you no longer care.
All is calm, all is bright…
This is not your season; this is his, and hers, and everyone else's – but it's not yours.
Your friends seem to think otherwise, though, as they have dragged you into this infernal play. (Watch it with us, Sasuke, it's Christmas, you shouldn't stay cooped up in your house!) And it infuriates you that they – traitors, both of them – seem oblivious to your plight.
'Round yon virgin mother and child…
(Please?, she asks, looking adorable with her pale, pale, skin, and red, red cheeks, a stray snowflake atop her nose) And you can only hate yourself even more for being too damn weak to disagree.
Holy infant so tender and mild
The mother cradles the infant in her arms as the doting father watches over them protectively – a painful reminder of things you lost (Your father talks only about you…) and things you no longer deserve (You almost killed her, you bastard). You glance at her for a second, only out of the corner of your eye, maybe to assure yourself that you did not kill her after all, that you're not still stuck in a nightmare.
You see that she looks alive, her cheeks aglow in joy and her eyes alight in a serene, thoughtful expression, and you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief.
Sleep in heavenly peace
Then, actors disguised as angels descend from the makeshift sky, and you suddenly feel suffocated by the promise of salvation, asphyxiated by hope of redemption – they're all lieslieslies, your brain insists.
(But it's Christmas, nobody should be unhappy on Christmas. "even you" –says that damnable voice inside your head.)
Hope, you think as you grit your teeth and square your jaw, tighten your throat and hold your breath, is painful.
You are –this— close to vomiting.
Sleep in heavenly peace
An excuse, a hasty retreat, and you are outside, the cold air biting into your skin. It is a welcome relief from the cloying Christmas cheer inside the theater.
But the image of an infant, a mother, and a father is etched in your mind – a family, your brain finally supplies, a taboo word that sends you into a fit of melancholy.
And you retch – the remains of your meager dinner spewing forth in a torrent of vomit, staining the sidewalk with redredred. For a moment, you are stunned, then you have to remind yourself that it's just spaghetti. Just spaghetti. That it looks nothing like blood.
(Hope you like it, Sasuke-kun, it's my mother's recipe.)
"Sasuke-kun…"
Concern emanates from her sweet, melodic voice like rays from the sun – but you deserve none of it, the voice in your head reminds you.
"Are you okay?"
You are aware now of the sound of hesitant footsteps, slowly but determinedly making their way towards you. Finally, they stop, and a small hand rubs your back as you spit repeatedly, a futile attempt to rid your mouth of the bitter taste.
"Do you want to go home?"
You realize how cold your hands are when she takes them in hers, and the seeping warmth almost burns.
"Do you want to go home?", she asks again, offering relief at her own expense (she was enjoying herself, you selfish bastard), already tugging in the direction of your stately but empty house.
A moment's hesitation, then, resolution.
"No, let's go back inside."
Hope may be painful, but it's all you have.
Silent Night, Holy Night…
Fin.