Christmas Past

Reiji bribes Jin into bringing him a suit of clothes and a car, and escapes from his hospital bed. "Shall I fetch him?" Kiichi had said earlier, and after four hours of running around in the city, in the snow, Reiji wonders why he just didn't let him. When he finally finds Naoya, at the school, of all places, it's the tears and the birthday cake that break his heart. He learns then that frozen hearts have to break, before they can melt. Despite the tears, Naoya's kiss is sweet, far sweeter than the cake that remains on the pavement, forgotten.

Of course, it isn't that easy. Naoya starts trembling again as soon as he sees the car. In Naoya's mind, Kiichi had said, both Reiji's recent scrape and the accident that had robbed Naoya of his family may have merged, and his obvious terror seems to support that hypothesis. If Kiichi could see Naoya now, Reiji thinks, he would never again so frivolously call Naoya a kitten. The similarity is too painful, too raw: a kitten shivering fiercely, almost violently, cold and exhausted, wanting nothing more than to go home, but paralyzed by fear. Reiji is not above blackmail; he tells Naoya he is too injured to walk back to the hospital, and insists the cold will make his injuries worse. It takes all of Naoya's courage to take one step towards the car before Reiji sweeps him into his arms and carries him the rest of the way. Inside, Reiji doesn't start the car right away. Instead, he turns the heater on high and holds Naoya until he stops shivering.

Back at the hospital, Kiichi is furious at Reiji's escape. He welcomes Naoya with smiles and hugs while his eyes promise Reiji dark retribution.

Reiji does not care.

Kiichi allows Naoya to stay the night at the hospital, "Just this once!", while snidely lecturing Reiji on what his body is or is not currently able to do. Kiichi's gesture is actually meant to torture him, Reiji's sure. Still, he won't protest having Naoya near. Naoya eschews the cot, opting to stay by Reiji's bedside. He falls asleep there, on the chair, with his head on Reiji's pillow and still holding Reiji's hand. None of the nurses have the heart to wake him.

Which is just as well; Kiichi would have fired them on the spot.


Christmas Present

Reiji wakes up to an empty bed, Gyoku's paw alternately batting at his nose and at a note placed carefully underneath his watch beside his bed. The note tells him not to worry, that Naoya will be home before dark, and that he will meet him at the mansion, where Kiichi has planned an 'intimate, wink-wink' Christmas for them all. Of course, he worries, of course. He calls everyone he thinks might know where Naoya had gone – from Wataru to Kiichi to that cake house where he used to work. Even that classmate of Naoya's, that Jouma. He snarls when each tries to remind him what day it was, what December 25th meant to Naoya. As if Reiji could ever, ever forget. They all know, even Reiji, why Naoya had gone, but no one knows exactly where. For all his resources, for all his connections, Reiji can't discover where one sad little boy is spending his birthday, once again all alone, mourning his lost family.

In sheer frustration, he takes out the birthday cake he'd hidden in the pantry and throws it against the wall.

Reiji shouts when Naoya finally comes rushing in, shouts for all of thirty seconds before he pulls the trembling boy into his arms. No one is surprised. Kashima retreats respectfully, and Haruomi shows uncharacteristic fortitude by shuffling a protesting Kiichi away. The color in Naoya's cheeks shifts from pale to red and back to pale, the heat of embarrassment clearly no match for the cold. He's so cold, Reiji thinks. For Naoya, why is this day always so cold? Naoya is breathing heavily – he must have run all the way from the station – and he smells of snow, of earth, and underneath those two scents, of a hint of candle smoke and incense.

"It's because I lost the mortuary tablet," Naoya whispers. "I had to go, Aoe-san. I had to. Please don't be angry."

Reiji feels like a world-class jerk. However, that does not stop him from dragging Naoya into the bedroom they share whenever they stay in the Aoe mansion.

"Aoe-san." The protest is half-hearted; Naoya's protests are always so. "Kiichi-sensei… The Christmas dinner…"

Reiji ignores him. Despite his brother's penchant for meddling, Kiichi has a better-developed survival instinct than most. Reiji knows his brother will stay away.

At least for now.

When Reiji pulls Naoya's jacket off and goes for his belt, Naoya protests that the needs to shower first, that he is dirty and sweaty. Reiji ignores him. Naoya is clearly exhausted by the day's travails but Reiji does not care. He needs this, they need this. To feelsomeone else's warmth, to remember what it means to be alive.

Reiji kisses the cold from Naoya's mouth, licks the tears from Naoya's cheeks. Then he gets to work on the rest of Naoya's body.

Maybe he's just jealous, he thinks, distantly. Maybe he just doesn't want Naoya's skin to smell of anything else but him, doesn't want Naoya trembling at anything other than his touch. Wants his lovemaking to be the only source of Naoya's exhaustion, wants to be the sole cause of Naoya tears.

"Aoe-san," Naoya gasps, arms clutching desperately around Reiji's neck. "Aoe-san. With me. Please."

Reiji could never deny Naoya anything.

Later, they lie holding each other, exhausted, sleepy, but both knowing they had to face Kiichi sooner or later.

"Aoe-san, are you angry? I'm sorry I ruined Kiichi-sensei's celebration."

"Idiot," Reiji says. "The celebration is for you. How the hell could you ruin it?"

"For me?" He sounds flabbergasted.

"You really are an idiot." Reiji tries to sound gruff, but ruins the effect with a soft touch to Naoya's now-warm cheek. "We don't have to go out there if you don't want to," he says. "You don't have to pretend you're not sad just because it's Christmas."

Naoya doesn't even try to lie. Reiji always knows, anyway. "I just miss them," he says, quietly, his head comfortably on Reiji's shoulder. "I'm not sad. I'm so happy to be here, Aoe-san, but I miss them. Do you know what I mean? Is that okay?"

Shiki would laugh, Reiji thinks, probably is laughing, somewhere. Be happy, Reiji!

He tilts his head and kisses Naoya, slowly and gently, cradling Naoya's face tenderly in his hands. "You're not alone, Naoya," he says, looking deeply into the boy's eyes. "Always remember that."

"Reiji!" Kiichi calls from outside, practically on cue, pounding loudly on the door that Reiji had thankfully remembered to lock. "Reiji, you beast! How many times are you going to 'give love on Christmas day' to Naoya-kun before you let him out? Oi! Reiijiii!"

Kiichi always did have perfect timing.

The best gift, Reiji thinks, is the way Naoya clings to him, leaning his forehead on Reiji's shoulder, trying to hide both his embarrassment and laughter against Reiji's neck.


Christmas Future

This Christmas, Reiji is ready. He hears Naoya get up, quietly shushing Gyoku's questioning mewl. He hears Naoya gather his clothes and go out into the hallway, into the other bathroom – presumably, so he would not wake up Reiji.

Reiji is sitting on the sofa, waiting, when Naoya finally comes out.

"Aoe-san?"

Wordlessly, Reiji hands Naoya his winter coat. He is already wearing his.

"But Aoe-san, what about—"

Reiji kisses him to shut him up. "Be quiet," he says, "it's too early in the morning for discussions."

It is too far to walk, even if they take the train – Reiji has no idea how Naoya managed it the first time. Instead, Reiji has arranged for a car and a driver. The car is the biggest one in his fleet – fit for presidents and princes, with darkly tinted windows and an interior more lavish than some high-class saloons. Naoya blushes, no doubt remembering the last time he and Reiji had used this car. Reiji had just spent three weeks in São Paulo, and Kiichi had sent Naoya along with the car to fetch him as a surprise. Sometimes, Kiichi's meddling had it uses, Reiji had been forced to admit. The car door had hardly closed before he had attacked Naoya. Fortunately, Naoya is young and flexible and had missed him just as much.

Reiji appreciates the car's performance. How it moves almost soundlessly, smoothly cushioning most of the bumps on the road. Without the sight of passing landscape, one couldn't even tell they were in a car, they could just as easily have been in a in a private booth in one of Reiji's restaurants. Reiji finds it convenient when he has to work on the way to meetings or for catching an hour or so of sleep to and from airports. However, what Reiji likes best is how Naoya actually consents to ride this car.

"Aoe-san..."

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

"Aoe-san, are we going where I think we're going?"

A year ago, Naoya would have been quiet like Reiji demanded. A year ago, Naoya would never have had that that sassy twinkle in his eye, inside a car or out of it.

"But, Aoe-san, if we're going where I think we're going, it'll be a few hours till we get there. We might get bored." He leaned forward, placing his hand suggestively on Reiji's knee. "So..."

"So?" It's amazing how little it takes for Reiji to respond.

"Aoe-san?" The hand starts making small massaging circles on Reiji's leg.

"Hm?"

"Do you have any videogames? Or books?"

His kitten has obviously been spending too much time with his brother. For that, Reiji decides, Naoya deserves to punished. Thoroughly.

Reiji notes the size of the monument, far larger and far grander than anything around it.

"An anonymous patron paid for it," Naoya volunteers the information. "I never did find out who, but I was so grateful. I think now it must have been my mother's father."

Reiji tries to keep a respectful distance as Naoya greets his family, but Naoya will have none of it and pulls Reiji along with him. "You're the one who wanted to come," he says, when Reiji drags his feet. After they've paid their respects – placed their flowers, lit the candles and incense that Reiji had prepared, and said their prayers (Reiji's prayers are more like vows) – he signals the chauffer, who comes over with a thick blanket and a picnic basket. The chauffer makes one last delivery before going back to the car and giving them back their privacy. A pristine pastry box. Inside is a birthday cake from the cake shop where Naoya used to work, and the words 'Happy birthday, Naoya-kun!' are inscribed in red icing. Naoya thinks he recognizes Kusano-senpai's handiwork. "They tried to give it to me for free," Reiji says, offended. "Can you believe that?"

Naoya laughs. It's a misty laugh, overflowing with emotion. So much love. He takes the cake away from Reiji, placing it carefully on the ground beside the blanket. Then he pulls Reiji down on the blanket with him. Straddling the taller man, Naoya pins Reiji's arms to the ground and bends down to kiss him. One twist of his hips and Reiji has the upper hand, reversing their positions and kissing Naoya into breathlessness. It's out of sheer respect for the lost Shirakawa clan that Reiji doesn't ravish their only remaining son then and there.

They could stay there forever, Reiji thinks. On that blanket, in the middle of a graveyard, and damn the rest of the world.

His phone rings. It's Kiichi, of course, demanding to know why they aren't at the mansion yet.

"Put your clothes back on and come home, this instant! Come home, both of you!" Kiichi commands. "Don't you have any sense of tradition? Do you want to make your beloved brother cry on Christmas?"

Reiji's first instinct is to growl, to tell his brother to butt out and stop interfering, but then the snow starts to fall. Reiji isn't surprised. In fact, he would not put it past his brother to make it snow, just so Reiji and Naoya would be forced to return.

Naoya is laughing. No doubt he's thinking the same thing.

"We'll come back here next year," Reiji tells Naoya. "We'll come back every year."

Naoya's smile is brilliant. "I'd like that," he says.

"Happy birthday, Naoya."

"Merry Christmas, Aoe-san."

Walking back to the car, Reiji watches Naoya catch a snowflake on his tongue. He pulls Naoya into his arms and kisses him full on the mouth, capturing Naoya's tongue with his own.

The snowflake never had a chance.

The End

© JCSA 2009