It was drizzling.
Marluxia loathed drizzle. Rain, he liked: summer tempests would find him standing, arms outstretched and soaked to the skin for hours in the cool downpour. Spring showers were invigorating; when they blew in from the non-existent coast of the World that Never Was, his senses would tingle and he would come alive.
But listless winter drizzle, cold and wet and miserable, had no point at all.
Snow would have been better. Botanically speaking, snow would have been a disaster - it had the remarkable power to kill even the most sturdy of plants, but at least seeing the dead city covered in a blanket of white would be beautiful. Not like this misty rain that dripped like tears from the sky.
But it wasn't cold enough to snow - there was a cracked old thermometer at the edge of the balcony that Marluxia had sought to find solace. Its red digital display screen read nought point five degrees. A tiny drop in temperature could turn these dull raindrops into gorgeous, fluttering white snowflakes cascading from the sky. But only Vexen could do that, the miser, and he'd never submit to any whim of Marluxia's.
Marluxia let out a sigh, and continued to watch the rain.
"You know, in some worlds they celebrate at this time of year,"
Marlus spun around suddenly at the voice, and there was Vexen - speak of the devil - lingering in the doorway.
"How pathetic," Was his immediate, sardonic response.
"They decorate trees and houses with festive lights," Vexen continued less, pushing himself from the door frame to join Marluxia by the balcony to watch the rain. "I suppose it would relieve the monotony."
"I'd have pegged you for one who liked monotony," Marluxia replied, petulance in his voice from being found so easily. "Given your adversity to change."
Vexen chuckled.
"I used to celebrate Christmas as a young boy. It was one of my favourite times of year."
"And how many centuries ago was that?"
"Oh, do be quiet. I'm trying to show a little common courtesy here and so should you."
Vexen was in an odd mood, Marluxia noted solemnly. He rarely had much to do with the scientist - not many people did - and Vexen rarely bothered to make any more than business conversation. And Marluxia had worked with Vexen only a few times: although he respected the other man as a researcher and and intelligent, capable scientist - he hadn't the emotions for anything else.
"Continue with your nostalgia, then. I shan't interrupt."
"Everybody used to give each other presents, and cards. On Christmas day we'd have a feast. I used to look forward to that one day all year long."
"That seems kind of ridiculous, if you ask me," Marluxia said thoughtfully, glancing at Vexen. His eyes were on the rain, training each individual droplet before it fell from sight, picking out another, and another in turn. "What about all the other days? Did they pale in insignificance?"
"I was young," Vexen said, shrugging, his voice dropping to a monotone. "Now we are nobodies, we cannot "look forward" to anything but the reclamation of our hearts."
Marluxia nodded in mutual agreement. For a while longer they watched the rain in silence.
"I'd better be getting back to work."
Marluxia found it within himself to laugh hollowly.
"Hrm. Thank you for that pointless interlude."
"Pointless?" Vexen questioned as he slipped through the door. "We'll see."
----
A few days later, Marluxia awoke to the dull observation that something wasn't right. He couldn't put his finger on it - the room he was lying in felt brighter somehow, but the light was off - not a new light bulb. No new, paler furniture. The curtains were open, he noted after some time, but in this dark and dreary place that didn't usually make a difference.
Eventually he forced himself to part with the comfort of his bed, walking over to he window to look outside.
Snow lay everywhere, stretching on to the hazy borders of the world. It was still gently falling, pure and white, from the black sky. The contrast made it glow. It was beautiful.
Somebody had thought to move the thermometer - although how was beyond Marluxia - to just outside his window. Minus eleven point four degrees. The meaningless reference made him chuckle.
Perhaps Vexen wasn't quite so bad as he had once suspected.
---
The second thing that was different was the garden; this was instantly clear. Shamefully (for this had never happened before) somebody had managed to sneak into the room - and Marluxia was pretty certain who - to dangle twinkling lights on strings across the towering trees that lined each side of the opening corridor. On some of them, shiny balls had been hung from the outermost branches, garlands of beads strung in a similar fashion to the lights. Marluxia had never seen anything like it before. It was even better than the snow.
"Merry Christmas," Came Vexen's distinctive voice from behind him, and once again he twirled around to face the newcomer. There was a faint smile to his lips that Marluxia had never seen before - so many new things, today - and a glow to his cheeks that if he hadn't known better the Assassin may have believed had come from the cold.
"Merry Christmas to you, too," He said quickly, determined to first find out how Vexen had successfully broken into his garden. "How did you-"
Vexen laughed, summoning a dusk with one hand. In its arms it held a collection of festive decorations, one of which - a long string of what looked like plastic fluff - Vexen pulled out to wrap around Marluxia's neck.
"Your presents are under the tree," He said, and disappeared.
The leftover dusk grinned at him and sprinkled him with all manner of decorations before leaving, too.
Marluxia frowned as he picked up the balls and stars on loops of string, and fluffy plastic, and garlands from the floor, carrying them inside. He was confused, and he didn't like it. He knew what Vexen was like and it wasn't like this. Did he want something? Had he finally gone completely and utterly out of his mind?
Nevertheless, he approached the right tree - the most gaudily decorated one - with an air of caution, and reached out for the first of three presents. It was small, and when he shook it it rattled a little, as though filled with bags of tiny beads. It seemed harmless enough, so he pulled away the dusty blue ribbon, the navy wrapping paper, opened the box...
Inside were packets, each labelled in Vexen's neat handwriting. Hibiscus/Genetic Alteration #23/Bioluminescent; Chrysanthemum/Fly Trap/Genetic Alteration #18/Mixed Species, and so on and so forth. There must have been twenty or more of them, each filled with a sample of seeds to be grown come spring.
The second parcel was larger, the wrapping silver and white. It wasn't heavy, simply big and soft. Marluxia guessed that it would be clothing of some description, although what he couldn't say. This was all awfully strange; he'd not had presents since he was a tiny child, and suddenly he had the urge to rip the paper from the two remaining packages as impatiently as he had back then.
He controlled himself, neatly folding it away instead to reveal a thick, white blanket with snowflakes printed on the same shade of blue as the uniform Organisation rooms, and roses the same delicate pink as his hair. A note - I know you get cold easily - tagged to one corner.
Why on earth would Vexen expend so much energy in finding such a thoughtful, useful gift?
The last present was the smallest of the three, and Marluxia almost missed it tucked in amongst the grass. It was little more than a black envelope, but as flawlessly wrapped as the others. He was careful not to damage the contents as he tugged away the cellotape and peeled the black paper away. Snowflakes - each an inch or two across, and warm - fell into his hands, a dozen of them, maybe more. With them was a necklace, a silver chain that sparkled a hundred different colours in the
light of the Christmas decorations. The pendant was a rose, blue, the size of a thumbnail. There was no explanation.
Marluxia clipped it around his neck anyway. He liked how it sparkled, and the way that it rested in the dimple of his collarbone. He swept over to the nearest mirror, and studied his reflection. The jewellery suited him perfectly. He was so tempted to simply portal to the laboratory where he was sure that Vexen would be and demand to know exactly what all these things were in aid of, but it didn't seem... right. A different tactic would be in order.
"Merry Christmas."
Marluxia had found only the one present in return for his three; it was a large box, carefully wrapped in purple lilac paper with an understated blue bow atop the parcel. He carried it gently, as though it were fragile, over to the desk where Vexen was hunched over, working hard.
The man glanced up, and chuckled emptily. Under the fluorescent strip lights his features looked taut, his expression drawn.
"Thank you."
Marluxia watched as Vexen gently pulled apart the ribbons that held the coverings in place. They fell away to reveal a glass container and inside a single stemmed plant. It rose from a small vase filled with coloured water, no leaves, to curve around the top of the box. Where the flower should have been instead was a glistening heart.
For several minutes, Vexen simply frowned at it, one gloved hand poised as though tempted to reach out to the plant, so convincingly realistic.
"You can use it for decorative purposes, or experiment on it to see if you can make the heart functional," Marluxia replied, his tone business like. He turned to leave.
"Wait."
His hand was by the door handle.
"Yes?"
There was a short pause, and Marluxia heard the gentle intake of breath from the other man.
"I knew there'd never be anything between us," Vexen said, quietly, fingertips brushing the glass. "But thank you for humouring me."
Marluxia wasn't really quite sure what possessed him to say-
"Who's to say there never will be?"
- but it only took a few short strides to cross the span of the laboratory, back to Vexen. The other man stood, hand now reaching with the same longing as for the heart. For a moment, they were caught in stalemate.
"I thought that you always said Nobodies couldn't feel emotions?"
There was the barest glimmer of a hesitation that flashed across Vexen's eyes, but then he murmured two words, so quietly that Marluxia could barely hear.
"Fuck emotions,"
And he leaned down to cross the gap between them with his lips.
They fell through a portal, into the tinglingly cold snow outside.
"You're beautiful here,"
Against the stark white of the laboratory Vexen looked old and haunted. Here, the stark white of snow covering the world, he was nothing short of ethereal.