Unsaid
By Dave Ziegler
Every guy dreams of spending Christmas Eve with a beautiful girl. It's an irresistible fantasy where she clutches your arm, laughs happily, and steals bashful glances at your moonlit features while you walk the city together. The fat snowflakes caught on her lowered lashes glisten in the multicoloured light, and she snuggles close to escape the chill wind. The sudden press of her warm breath fires your passion. A kiss? Not so lucky; instead she whispers earnestly of the legend. It's said Christmas Eve is a night of magic, of miracles: a special time when love can be forever cemented.
That's where the dream goes wrong, if you ask me. The mystique is great and all if you're in the market, but honestly, I'd be happy with just the date. Why profess true love and risk trapping yourself by some freak quirk of nature when you're not even done high school yet? Entering the eternal lockdown would be very premature.
Hypocrite? You could say that, given the circumstances, but only if you're an idiot. Granted this is Christmas Eve, the snow's coming down hard, and there's a striking beauty barely five steps ahead of me – the romantic criteria are met like 'great luck' is my destined New Year's fortune – but look! See the resigned disinterest plain on my face? I'd rather be home, eating my fill of festive treats and entertaining happier thoughts.
Am I mad? Would I truly pass up the real thing for inconsequential day-dreams? If circumstances were slightly different, I'd be delighted beyond belief to suffer this insane cold and threat to personal freedom. Just drop the girl ahead for someone shorter, with longer, redder hair, and a plumper chest. Don't forget her sweet voice, cute face, and alluringly modest character! And if it's not too much trouble, move her back those five steps.
If only I could bend reality to my every stupid whim!
But I can't. And so there's no laughter, no small talk, no furtive glances or embarrassed closeness – I'll always be trailing HER. Alas, cruel youth, why have you stolen my dreams and thrown me to the capricious hands of fate? Why have I inescapably been made the plaything of Suzumiya Haruhi?
"You're too slow! Hurry up, Kyon!"
With no regard for the common sense practiced in such conditions, Haruhi spun on her heel, causing a minor spray of well trodden slush, and resumed walking – backward. I wondered for a moment if she shouldn't give herself and this remarkable feat of balance to the national figure skating team. I hear they could use the help.
"If we're late to Yuki's place, heads will roll." The meaning behind Haruhi's burning glare was so evident even the passing carollers understood I was in for it. Her temper unlikely to mellow any time soon, I quickly guessed at how much I had in my wallet. Not enough to treat everyone – not nearly enough. Not when Miss Haruhi was in the mood for lopping heads. The situation left me no choice.
Keeping a wary eye on the treacherous footing, I trotted to Haruhi's side as fast as caution permitted. I was loathe to break my neck, but I didn't want to lose my New Year's money before I'd gotten it either.
"Why's the club party on Christmas Eve, again?" A lame attempt at conversation, I know, but apathy often kills one's wit. At least I tried. Haruhi, however, seemed disinclined to engage. Further agitation was necessary. "Having it before break would have been better," I lectured. "You really need to be more considerate of other's schedules this time of year." Still nothing to say? Even after that? Annoying. Oh, how annoying. I'm trying to make the best of my abduction, Haruhi! Opting to continue with the time-honoured tradition of quantity over quality, I threw my hands behind my head and sighed dramatically. "And I was really looking forward to Mom's fried dumplings too."
"Shut up," Haruhi grumbled.
Success! That mouth can do more than frown tonight. "What was that?" I asked, leaning close. She rolled her face away from mine, twisting her body to follow. We quickly fell into step alongside one another.
"If you're going to complain, don't bother opening your mouth."
"I'm not complaining," I insisted. Better to lie outright than walk all the way to Nagato's complex in silence. "You need to remember, though, you can't always force people into something, especially at Christmas. Did you stop to think that maybe Asahina-san or Nagato had dates or family functions? That this mandatory activity could ruin plans made weeks or months in advance?"
Haruhi stopped. I continued several steps before noticing. Her head was lowered and the tumbling snow built a frosty crown atop her hair. The harsh sound that now dripped from between her lips I had heard only once before. It was the tired, disdainful disappointment that had preceded my involvement with her in Closed Space.
"Are you joking?" Haruhi wondered. "Look at them, Kyon." She stretched her arms and turned her palms out, as if to encompass everything. The couples, the friends, the lonely individuals in search of Christmas magic: none were excluded. "It's all parties, presents, and love. They're just doing what's expected of them. Why don't they realize how mundane it is? That they're wasting their time being average?"
"That's life," I challenged.
"It's disgusting."
Not everyone needs to live an atypical life to be satisfied, Haruhi. In fact, I'm sure you'll find the vast majority is perfectly happy following the status quo. It may all be old hat, done to death decades if not centuries before, but for everyone alive something old is still new. Sixteen is too young to dismiss everything.
"You shouldn't be so harsh on parties," I ventured, "considering we're heading to one you organized."
Haruhi's eyes flicked to mine. "Don't be dense," she commanded. "We're not going to just sit around, fry chicken and eat cake. Not my SOS Brigade!" Their amber colour suddenly shone as if backlit. "While everyone else twiddles the holiday away, we'll seize this opportunity to discover the secrets of Christmas!"
The secrets of Christmas? Did the CIA wrest control from the Christians when I wasn't paying attention? "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Think about it, Kyon," Haruhi said, despite the 'of course, you don't' look on her face. "Elves, spirits, Santa Claus: Christmas is a high point for supernatural activity throughout the year, and people don't even give it a second thought! It's the SOS Brigade's duty to correct this oversight. Tonight we're going to trap and interrogate at least one mysterious entity!"
Hold it right there. Are you telling me I'm missing fried dumplings, heat and fantasies of Asahina-san to tramp through sloppy, crowded streets and have my face razed by icy wind so we can question Santa Claus – the mythical old man with the most enviable work schedule in the world? If anyone out there can think of a proper response to this proposition, let me know. I'd gladly take the advice.
"Stop!" I grabbed Haruhi's arm, squeezing through the coat's thick pile of insulation, and pulled her aside. A few of our fellow pedestrians spared us a curious glance, but most were too absorbed in their own affairs to care what I might be doing to this young lady.
"What?" Haruhi demanded, annoyed.
"You're seriously telling me that's why you're dragging us all to Nagato's? For Santa Claus?"
Haruhi turned her face from mine, lips pursed angrily. "I don't expect you to understand," she snapped.
"What's to understand? It's a pointless activity, Haruhi!" My words struck with a hammer's force, bending her knees, buckling her shoulders and slackening her neck. "The supernatural isn't simply going to appear because you want it to, or because it's Christmas! If they're even around, then they're doing their jobs: making people happy! They support all that 'mundane' festivity!"
I panted, sucking in great, frigid breaths that burned my throat and chest. Haruhi curled against the darkened facing of a shop that closed hours ago and didn't speak. Many of the looks now shot my way were indignant. Yeah, I know what they're thinking. 'Jerk,' 'loser,' 'bastard.' 'What have you done to your girlfriend on Christmas Eve?' Oh ignorant public, allow me to educate you. This mistress of ridiculous torment is not my girlfriend, and hell will be much colder than this when I see Suzumiya cry.
"It's not."
My attention immediately returned to Haruhi. "What?"
Her voice was soft and taught. "It's not pointless," she reiterated, head hung low. "It's better, isn't it?" The words tumbled free, building in pitch and fervour. "Better than the crush of relatives; better than facing questions you don't know the answers to yourself yet; better than having to smile and praise some stranger who thinks they know you after a minute's intolerable conversation, over and over again, year after year!" The torrent faded as she searched for her next words. "It's better than losing yourself…" Haruhi looked to me. "Isn't it?"
So, that was the problem.
I closed the gap between us, knelt before her and extended my hand. Haruhi took it gingerly, and I guided her to her feet, while brushing snow from her hair and shoulders. For a moment, I wondered if Closed Space was exploding into existence all around us, but due to Esper Boy's thankful absence there was no way to be sure. All things considered, that was best. It meant Haruhi was just Haruhi: no strings attached.
I wanted to comfort her.
Easier said than done, of course! As compelling as this strange urge was, I didn't want to accidentally confuse matters, and despite willing it to cooperate, my hand merely hovered above my coat pocket. Should I? Should I really? Indecision's a pain. Suddenly, though, there she was, still waiting for an answer; the want and expectation in Haruhi's eyes drove me to action.
"Here!" I blurted, pulling a small pendant from my pocket and thrusting it into her hands. "Merry Christmas." I turned and fled as quickly as I could.
The resulting silence was different this time – not threatening, but painful all the same. My legs slowed as they carried me too close to the crowds. Then Haruhi spoke. "Kyon?"
"It belonged to the wife of a Bakufu loyalist who killed her husband so she could be with her Ishin Shishi lover. The dealer claimed it brings great misfortune to any woman who wears it. I figured you'd like it."
The twitch of her smile warmed the back of my neck.
"Where are you going?"
"Where else?" I said. "Nagato's apartment. Last one there pays the penalty, right?"
The rapid 'smush, smash' of boots against wet snow heralded Haruhi's revival. In moments she flew past me, a smile curling the corners of her mouth ever wider. The bit of jade in the centre of the pendant glinted at her throat.
"Of course!" she declared. "And it'd be a huge scandal if the brigade chief, herself, was late. So get a move on, Kyon! We'll need time to get ready." Haruhi crushed a shopping bag to her chest. "After a year of only elves and a decrepit wife, that old man won't know what hit him when he sees Mikuru-chan!"
Oh brother.