Written for a gift exchange. Warning for heavy angst and incestuous theme.
I've also made a banner for the story, you can view it if you add /d5Hm3X5 after imgur's url
Helleborus niger : the "Christmas rose"
an evergreen plant found in
the mountainous areas of Central Europe
1/5
A large acorn tumbled down the trifling slope, bouncing off the tip of his tattered, button-up boot. Wagging a grey, bushy tail, the jouncy hoarder swiftly snatched the nutty treat, before disappearing up the higher, creaking boughs. Bare and ashen, they interlaced like lightning forks, once upon a time shaping a verdant roof that shed its dappled veil under the glory of midday. Now, the crumbling leaves formed a garish quilt of golden and brown that crunched under his weight, a signal of every living thing coming to an end. At its fringes, the woodland lay melancholically quiet. Sitting cross-legged at the base of a time-chiselled tree, the boy crouched above his Edwardian sketchbook, zealously committed to Hegel's third art. Smudged fingers deftly worked the charcoal, as the willow stick glided on the textured parchment. Thick lines interweaved with fading gradients, instilling the clear vision saturating his mind into what had earlier started as something abstract.
Such was his unwavering dedication, that when the gusty wind agitated the autumnal carpet and a low, earthen growl, as ancient as the balding mountaintops, rose from the guts of the centenarian tree, the young boy didn't even flinch. It was when the old roots slithered beneath the moistened soil, making the ground churn and disrupting the course of his hand, that the boy cast a startled glance over his shoulder. For a flitting moment, the forest succumbed back to eerie silence, until the gnarled tree behind him began to vibrate. Dry flakes of its massive trunk started peeling off, exposing a sepia layer of timber underneath. But as if made of liquid instead of heartwood, the grains and rings on the surface slowly fused into one, forming a peculiarly familiar sight.
"A face?"
There was no mistake, the almond-shaped nooks resembling sockets and the curved line stretching into the ghost of a smile were all too clear on the wrinkled wood. The chilling face remained motionless, as if taking a minute to study the frail human, and then, it began swelling and bursting forth. Instinctively, the boy scooted over, watching transfixed as the being gradually emerged from the creased hollow. Its parts extended to limbs and, as soon as the wan daylight kissed its skin, its colour perked up to a much healthier tone. Like a tree that rattles its branches, the being wiggled vehemently, unfolding a fountain of sinuous, pecan hair and letting a gossamer gown roll down to its knees. In the end, that enigmatic pair of eyes finally lifted its hoods, revealing its last secret; the mirthful twin orbs of a nymph.
"You should stop showing up like this."
The dryad giggled at the attempt of the mortal to mask his awe with a frown.
"I can't help it, every time your reaction is so funny. What are you trying to stash there?" she impulsively dived in his personal space, pointing at the sketchbook sloppily tucked away under his dark woolen coat.
"No-nothing. You can't see it yet, it isn't finished."
"Oh, come on..." she pouted innocently "Just a tiny peek."
"No"
"Admittedly, I did spy over your back earlier, besides..." brown locks twirled around her delicate fingers, as her rosy lips settled to a seal and unspoken words invaded the boy's consciousness "...I can always find my answer here."
"Stop that!" His hand reached his right temple, as if a mere gesture could fend off the nature's whims. "You promised you wouldn't read my mind again."
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." This time, she smiled in honesty. "You're right, I just like messing with you." In a display of remorse, she raked her fingers through his front bangs, gently tousling the honey-brewed hair. "Did you do something to your hair?"
"Hmm, no..?" He met her knitted brow with a quizzical look of his own. "It has grown longer the past month, that's all."
"You look diffferent."
"Well, everything around us is slowly changing. Who stays the same, right?"
"I do." Her breath billowed into a sigh, as the tree nymph lay down, resting her head on his cozy lap. "You should come visit me more often."
"I come almost every day. But you're usually wandering off somewhere." He was revelling in the warmth her body radiated, enjoying her feathery weight on his thigh. It rendered his voice soft.
"True. And yet I never leave the forest. My ventures are always around...here." Her cheeks dimpled, a bittersweet smile tip-toeing on the curl of her lips. "I really missed you."
"Missed me?" He wondered with naivety. "You saw me yesterday. Waiting one day can't be that long, surely."
The dryad let her unfocused gaze drift past him, upwards among the patches of grey sewn on the infinent sky vault.
"One day is too long when you don't sleep."
That shade of gloom did not last but a second. The next moment, she was beaming back at the boy, as if the stars had somehow toppled down from above and built a nest in the recesses of her heart. It wasn't easy cradling such radiance, the boy fidgeted and she sensed it. She quirked an eyebrow at him with slight mischief.
"What is it? Tell me."
"The-there's something I have for you."
At once, the nymph darted up. With the eagerness of an impressionable child, she watched as the boy hesitantly brought his sketchbook out. Leafing through the monochromatic sceneries, he paused at a page already ripped out and handed it to her, avoiding immediate eye contact. On the paper, a landscape in bold deep blacks and smoothly feathered greys was coming alive; perched on the outskirts of a vast woodland, there was a thatched-roof cottage with a lantern post and thin plumes of smoke curling from its chimney. The dryad blinked in amazement.
"For me? A house?"
"A home."
"Yours? It looks nearly identical. Are you suggesting we should share your home?" she cheekily teased.
"It's-it's not like that. I just used it as an inspiration. But, I've told you before, you're welcome to visit whenever you want."
"I never had a home. It has always been the nature, this land, the forest..."
"Well, now you do!" he exclaimed stubbornly and, instantly, hushed in a blush, when the nymph held the picture tightly
onto her chest.
"I love it." The whispered confession deepened even more the scarlet on his cheeks. "I have a gift for you too."
The boy didn't expect the scene that unfurled next. Lifting her welcoming gaze towards the wooden canopy, the dryad began clicking her tongue. A train of rhythmic sounds permeated their corner of the forest, perfectly aligning with the settled tranquility. Soon, she went faster, making her cheeks puff out to amplify the noise. And to the boy's astonishment, the nymph's natural calling didn't remain unanswered. Suddenly, a familiar visitor popped up from its mossy den. The grey squirrel clambered down the tree, hopping over the dead leaves and broken twigs, before fearlessly easing itself on the dryad's bare shoulder. Tilting her head, she let a rustling murmur pet its miniscule ears, as if casually chatting to an old friend. Loyal to her bidding, the frisky critter vanished momentarily in a nearby burrow, before re-emerging with another acorn, even bigger than the one it was previously hauling. As soon as it was entrusted to her palm, the oaknut started changing. It quivered and bloated, cracks traversing its shell until it shed. Amidst the tiny flakes, a translucent bubble was now lying, its thin membrane gently wobbling against the drafts of cold air. Inside it, a new miracle was waiting to manifest; a pure white bud timidly peeped out of a leathery, sacramento foliage, emitting an umbrella of peerless glow.
"This is Hellebore, known to your kin as the 'Christmas rose'"
"...Christmas... rose?"
"It is unlike all the rest flowers you have seen. Can you guess its secret?" Her fingertip lightly tapped his flushed nose and he innocently shook his head in return. "When the rest of the world lies frozen and asleep, Hellebore awakens."
The boy sharply inhaled his wonderment.
"It blooms around Christmas and remains a beacon of light through the winter."
The wind grew bolder. The sudden current pummeled into the soil and whisked the amber leaves into a small vortex around them. The dryad blithely stuck out the velvet tip of her tongue, tasting the brisk air.
"December is coming. Here, take Hellebore with you." She placed the treasure in his trembling hands, wavy strands of walnut crowning the twinkling summer wine in her eyes. "Plant it in your garden. And when the days turn bleaker, it will flourish and become your token of hope. This is a gift to remember me...take it...take it home."
...home...
"Ikuya!"
Home.
"Hey, Ikuya."
The ballpoint pen hits the desk with a low thud, yanking him out of his reverie. He blinks out his confusion, blurred eyes settling on the judging face that mutters his name.
"...download the files at home. And I'll see you all next week."
The associate professor's strict voice resonates in his ears, reminding him that he's still seated in a packed amphitheatre and the class has just rung its end. Next to him, Hiyori is shaking his head.
"Were you daydreaming again?"
His reply is nothing but a dull mumble. He picks his pen back up and turns to his notebook, just to realise there are only two sentences hanging incomplete below the scribbled date. The rest of the page is strinkingly blank.
"Here, have mine." The bespectacled swimmer offers his pad, while passing the strap of his khaki sachel over his head. "I kept notes from the entire lecture."
"Thanks."
Outside, the first day of December imbues Tokyo with blue-grey hues. Students swarm the wide stairs of Shimogami University, some hastening their pace to meet their mundane schedules, others carelessly loitering around. The howl of Boreas ruffles their hair and sweeps their scarves, as the north wind bares his fangs. Closing his eyes, Ikuya slightly protrudes his tongue, savoring the newborn cold. The same merciless cold that compels Hiyori to tighten his coat.
"I have a pile of laundry and an unfinished essay for tomorrow. Want to come to my place? We can order something to eat while you're copying the notes and -"
"I'm heading home."
On Hiyori's face, the short-lived disappointment mutates to a smirk.
"But, luckily, I have plenty of free time later. So, I can walk you there."
Ikuya shrugs, just like he does with pretty much anything straying from his comfort zone. By now, he is used to having two shadows. On their way to his appartment, he remains mostly silent. While his meddlesome friend blathers about underperforming teammates and formidable rivals, Ikuya limits himself to nodding for those he respects more than they know, and rolling his eyes for those he likes less than they deserve. It isn't until they actually reach his threshold and he notices the welcome rug displaced while the front door isn't double locked, that his mind abandons its aloof style and his body tenses up again.
"Hiyori, someone's in the house."
They burst in flustered, reflexes reacting to adrenaline faster than planning to reason. The air wafts a blend of spice with something irreversibly burnt, alerting them of the intruder's whereabouts. Only the culprit exceeds their wildest expectations.
"Aniki?!"
In the middle of the confined kitchen, Natsuya has apparently been flinging himself into a new culinary sport. Clad in a sleeveless shirt that already bears the first wounds of his cooking endeavour, the chocolate haired man is stirring a sizzling wok with a strong arm. Open drawers, stains on the countertop and a boiling pot that has started to overflow complete the picture of a room on the verge of absolute mess.
"Iku-kun, Hiyori. Suprised yet?" Natsuya flashes his trademark grin at the two dumbfounded youths.
"Natsuya-senpai! Welco-"
"How did you get in?" Ikuya interrupts, his face suddenly clouding over with uneasiness.
"I made a stop at Iwatobi first." Natsuya pulls a set of keys from the back pocket of his ripped biker jeans and triumphantly tosses it at the younger swimmer. "Fortunately, when it comes to mom, my persuasive skills haven't changed. Now..." he takes a step closer, showily opening his arms to finalize his little skit, "...won't you give your big bro a hug?"
"Nothing about you has changed." Ikuya low-key grumbles at the joke, eliciting his brother's generous laughter. This time, the unrepentant vagabond folds his arms across his well-defined chest and observes them without concealing his honest admiration.
"It's nice to see you, boys. You both look to be in great form."
He may address in plural, but his amber eyes weigh down on his twin reflections. There's an incospicuous line of electricity arching like a bridge between the two Kirishima siblings, and its voltage doesn't pass unnoticed by the vigilant backstroker. Hiyori clears his throat.
"It's good to have you here, senpai. We had..." olive eyes fleetingly skip to Ikuya, as if to confirm a theory in his mind "...no idea you were coming."
"Well, you know me, I'm like a migratory bird, always coming back to the nest." Turning his focus to the stove, Natsuya pours some vegetable oil inside the searing pan and manages to flip the mixture over, as it sputters and pops. "You two are staying for dinner, right? It's your single chance to try the special curry udon ala Natsu. Even though my first batch of chicken ended up so charred it set off the smoke ala-"
"Hiyori is leaving. He has an essay to finish."
Before Ikuya's obstinacy, whatever answer was crystallizing on his friend's lips is automatically deferred. Hiyori's eyebrows almost vanish under his cinnamon fringe. This casual nonchalance, coming so naturally from the brooder on his right, doesn't annoy him. He secretly cherishes it. In another scenario, he probably falls for Ikuya's guiltless smile despite getting shunned. A scenario where the teal haired man hasn't been nervously twisting the hem of his hoodie between his fingers all along.
Hiyori steadies his glasses.
"As a matter of fact, I do."
The perfect chaperon always takes his leave before the legal guardian.
As soon as farewells are exchanged and the door shuts behind Hiyori, Ikuya's expression mellows. Two steps away, Natsuya is humming a merry tune, involuntarily flexing his muscles while chopping some spring onions. Ikuya's eyes ritually travel from the lightly corded biceps to the thin ripple of Natsuya's shirt between his broad shoulder blades. In striking contrast to his preferred moody shades, it is the same lemon muscle shirt his brother wore the last time they met. Titillating images of empty bottles and a balmy breath teasing his own raid his mind without an invitation. How can his lips feel so dry when saliva is pooling on his gums? Ikuya swallows.
"You could have called or left a message." His voice escapes softer than intended.
"And miss your face when you stormed in ready to catch a burglar?" Natsuya winks at him. "Not in a million years."
Ikuya leans his back against the laminate counter, his gaze mechanically following Natsuya's motions without really looking.
"You know, mom only gave you those keys so you'd meet her again to hand them back."
"Yeah..." the word fades into a feeble sigh "...I got the idea. We have the same way of thinking, she and I."
"Well, she's right. You -"
"You should come visit me more often."
"- should come visit us more often."
"I'm here now, aren't I?" Natsuya evades with a chuckle.
"On Christmas too. Because, I..."
"I really missed you."
"...think having you around will do her good." Ikuya resigns, inwardly cursing every fairy tale in existence.
"It's the holidays. Someone must pay a visit to the old man too."
"The year has another three hundred and sixty-four days for that." The youngster sulks under his breath.
"A bit harsh now, aren't we Iku-kun? I tell you what, I have a little business to take care of, so I'll be sticking around Tokyo for a while. Christmas is still weeks away, who knows, perhaps I'll be the one stuffing the turkey this year."
Natsuya manoeuvres through the conversation, warding off the pessimism with a dash of his charming smile. He unpacks the udon noodles and adds them to the hot, bubbling water, skimming off the foam that trickles down the pot. "So, what have you been up to? I wasn't coaxing you earlier, you seem refreshed. Any good news I should know about?"
The slate tiles on the floor suddenly look highly appealing to Ikuya's fixated gaze. The young swimmer ponders his reply, there's something he has been yearning to share with his brother for quite a while.
"Actually, there is." Even if his tone stays passionless, his eyes sparkle up. "I have been accepted as part of an aquatics program between Shimogami and the University of Kent. Starting in February and for the next semester, I will be an exchange student in England."
As if stuck underwater, for a moment everything around Natsuya becomes slow and warbled.
"They offer great scholarships, covering equipment, physiotherapy, monitored fitness testing, travel, you name it. My tutors will keep in touch, I'll continue training there so I can be ready for the nationals here, in summer. Ranking high will open the road for a longer scholarship and, perhaps, the European... competitions..."
Ikuya's voice trails off. The two pools of amber staring back at him aren't just etched with surprise. There's an emotion strong and equally void on their glaze, as if they have suddenly absorbed more light than they can master. Uncertainty creeps up and makes Ikuya want to retreat inside his head.
For Natsuya, words are scattered domino blocks.
"I...had no idea..."
"Aniki, that's because I haven't seen you since-"
"Ooow!" A loud groan tears through Natsuya like a shard of glass, the moment he rinses the hot pan in water and droplets splatter on his skin. "Every single time, damn it! I forget it needs to cool off first."
Be it a case of unfortunate timing or the brunet's elusive trick, Ikuya has effectively choked down his unforeseen spark of courage along with the rest of his sentence.
"My little brother finally opens his wings." Natsuya retorts after a pause. "It's an amazing opportunity, Ikuya. You always had the total package for it. I am really proud of you. Honestly."
A hand squeezes his shoulder encouragingly and, once again, Ikuya is ten years old, even the crumbs of his brother's affection causing his young heart to burst. Noting how they should celebrate the great news with a feast, Natsuya serves the udon noodles in two ceramic bowls, alongside the chicken curry that is already steaming. He sprinkles the top with the chopped scallions and grants Ikuya the honour of the first try.
"Here you go, Japanese curry udon ala Natsu, from my revolutionary cuisine straight to your palate. Although, I may have...overdone it with the curry roux."
It takes Ikuya a second to realise what a big understatement this admission is. The dish is so hyped in spices, that his eyes well up and threaten to bulge out. He gulps the chicken down with difficulty, its rubbery texture leaving a stinging taste in mouth.
"It's horrible" the young student coughs out amidst adorable snorts, which break fast into spontaneous laughter. Blossoming rumblings of the soul Natsuya hasn't been blessed with in a long time.