It would have been another lonely Christmas for him. It should have been another lonely Christmas for him, but it somehow had not turned out that way. How or why, Ryo did not know. Well, he knew how it had happened, just not the why.
He had taken a walk through Central Park one rainy night, the feelings of loss and loneliness weighing heavily on him. They were not simply emotional weights but physical ones as well, and they had been hounding him since Dee and Bikky had left him, going somewhere where he could not follow. Ryo had not understood then why the accident had happened, and he still did not comprehend the hows and what-fors. No one at the precinct was forthcoming on details, but it ultimately had not mattered to the detective. The two most important people in his life were gone, like his parents, and there wasn't anything he could do to change such facts. Carol still stopped by on occasion to check on him, but her visits were infrequent, hardly enough to keep forlorn thoughts from invading his mind as he tried to sleep at night.
As he had walked (more like stumbled) through Central Park, Ryo had come across a most pitiable sight. A small form sat in a huddled position on one of the park benches, onyx-hued hair sopped wet with rain. The person looked so miserable, a resonating echo of everything Ryo was feeling that the detective felt compelled to stop. He simply could not pass by this individual without at least offering help. Ryo still possessed his overly generous nature, and he knew he would not be able to live with himself if this person ended up in a hospital somewhere or dead because of his ignorance. It was when he had stopped he saw that the form was shivering from being cold and wet. If Dee or Bikky had been alive, they would have teased him for taking in a "stray" but they would have understood. They had always understood his genteel nature, they had accepted it, and they had loved him for it. Ryo could not leave someone who looked as lost and lonely as Ryo felt in such a miserable state. It would have been wrong, cruel even, and Ryo wanted to give someone something, even if it was a place to stay for one night.
The trembling form on the bench must have noticed Ryo's presence the moment he came to a stop for a pale face with the saddest of eyes and more than one bruise lifted up to look at him. It nearly broke Ryo's heart all over again at seeing this young person's face so filled with pain and lost hope. He could not tell if the other had been crying – the rain had done an excellent job of covering up any such evidence – but Ryo knew the signs of despair. They were evident on his face every morning when he looked in the mirror.
However, he was not prepared for the soft voice that spoke to him nor the question in Japanese directed him. The voice was a light tenor and laced with sorrow, but the person speaking was not concerned about his own troubles. It was as if he had already resigned himself to his fate, whatever it happened to be.
"Why are you so sad?"
He had asked why Ryo was sad. As if he had been able to tell from a single glance that Ryo was troubled, and the young man wanted to know why he felt that way. It had taken all of Ryo's willpower to simply not break down and cry. Why would this young man want to know about Ryo's sadness and despair? He could not have been any older than twenty years of age. People as young as this man had their own cares to be troubled with. Why would he ask when it was clear he had his own problems to deal with? It boggled Ryo's mind.
Later, Ryo had learned the young man he had found was in his mid-twenties, his name was Shuichi Shindou, and he was a famous pop singer in Japan. The dark-haired man had come from Tokyo in an effort to escape the memories and reminders of a love that was never going to be. His own lover, a romance novelist by the name of Eiri Yuki, had been killed under mysterious circumstances, and the Japanese media had not left him alone. The constant pressure from the media and his co-workers had all but strangled him in a sense. He had to leave his home just to find peace, though his leaving had not been well received by his best friend. The two had argued before he boarded the plane, and that had been the last time Shuichi Shindou had been in Japan.
A scraping noise from the living room broke through the detective's reverie and caused Ryo to look up, and a tentative smile started to form. Apparently, Shuichi had done some more exploring of his apartment. The former singer had an insatiable curiosity, and he wanted to learn more about the detective who had taken him in some seven months ago. A minute later, Shuichi's scrawny form entered the kitchen, pulling along a rather heavy-looking box.
"Shuichi? What are you doing?" Ryo asked, though it was quite obvious as to what the former vocalist's activities were.
Bright amethyst eyes met his for a brief moment then Shuichi was digging into the box. It did not take the former celebrity long to pull out a cheap-looking sprig of mistletoe and hang it over his head. A naughty-looking smirk touched youthful features.
"It wouldn't be Christmas," he said, "without mistletoe. Don't you agree, Ryo?"