Blinded On Christmas Eve
If memory serves correctly, many years have passed in this lifetime, yet none of them holding a moment ever as precious. Most don't enjoy such times ever often, except those of us with luck enough to have them every so often; as the same goes for those of us on the other side of the spectrum.
At this time of the year, as it happened to be 21XX of the Eve of Christmas, many came to be filled with holiday cheer and spirit, those with the luck to have it that is. However, for those who are less than lacking in good fortunes, we say a resounding, heartfelt "Bah humbug" to the Christmas season and all its aches and pains of naïve feelings of joy, peace, and good will to all. For what is the reason of the season to those with lost souls, lost heart? Who of any person gives a care to others than themselves this year?
Perhaps those who happen to see with eyes unclouded; may their feelings of heart spread on to the heartless, cold demeanors of lost specters. Let the rain clouds part to reveal the blue sky once more.
"They say he hasn't done anything but skulk around and crash every Christmas party around," Whispered the voice of one hapless hunter to another. "I've never seen anyone, let alone him, be so Scrooge-ish about the holidays."
"You're kidding!" Cried the second hunter, looking around to make sure her shout went unnoticed by those other coworkers present. "How long has he been this way?"
"Ever since the search for Zero gave up, he's been having the sulks, poor guy. It's hard to lose a friend." Resumed the first person. He took a sip of eggnog and wrapped an arm around his female cohort, visibly close with her in feelings and spirits.
"At least we have each other and our health. No need to get riled over some guy who thinks ruining Christmas for everyone's a good time." She said, nuzzling her friend under the neck. They smiled to one another, walking off arm in arm, not a care in the world.
As it happened to be, every member of the esteemed Irregular Hunter squad had feelings of warmth and happiness of the season, with the exception of one whose mirth was cut short and left to rot. This very man, or rather repliroid, was deemed the blue Grinch of Hunterville. As the hunters before had conversed over earlier, as well as the rest of Hunter headquarters had stewed over secretly, the literally blue man did what he could, when he could, to reverse the tides and somehow stop Christmas.
Whenever even something as little as mistletoe was put up to compliment the cold, barren halls of HQ, it was quickly torn down to leave the desolate place once again dry. This uncanny predicament left the denizens to make merry in their bunkers, or whatever private residence where they might be able to seek comfort from the prying hands of a heartless shell of a man.
And as it happened to be, the man was left too himself without comfort or aid of any kind; his cohorts far too frightened of his wrath less they be destroyed for tampering with his emotions. Of course, they knew him to be a good man who wouldn't actually hurt another, but most felt it best not to test the strings of his temper. In any case, he was alone, brooding in the darkest corners of his abode, far from the cooking fire of his fireplace, far from the door, far from the pictures adorning the walls that held the happy faces of times long passed, faces which had melted away into death, depression, or not even changed at all.
Zero… why aren't you here? I can't fight alone, not alone. Anything but that, please. His mind was in turmoil, it searched for whatever answers he could turn up for his reckless actions of late, the procedures which earned for him the names like 'Grinch', 'Scrooge', or 'Diablo'. No one understood, no one felt, no one could ever fathom his sorrow. And no one tried. "A real, merry Christmas. Sure."
At once, a knock upon his chamber door was heard resonating in his superb hearing. He pondered whether or not he should open it, asking if he really felt up to it now; but something deep inside his depths urged him against his own will to see what was needed of his time.
"X? X, open the door! It's me, Alia!" Came the commanding voice of a woman, who most definitely sounded smashed, something not pertaining to the girl's character.
Almost begrudgingly, the metal frame slid open to reveal the haggard and furrowed brow of X, the famed hunter of the holiday, who gazed at the blonde visage of one of his closest friends, who really did happen to be somewhat smashed at the moment. X's face changed from his sour look to one of surprise as Alia was quick to collapse on his strong shoulder with a giggle. He stumbled back inside his room and tried to regain the lost balance he had a moment ago, cursing lightly as the door to his room automatically closed. This won't end well…
"Alia, what's gotten into you?! You never get drunk!" The hunter admonished, in a voice that seemed to hold back as much bite as he could, though it didn't help much.
She sniggered; unaware of what she was really doing. Had this been under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be caught dead inside X's room, let alone drunk. There were enough rumors about the two as it was. "Well, ya see, the boys at the bar-" She stopped momentarily to hiccup. "They said that I couldn't hold my liquor, and I said I could, but they didn't believe me, so I drunk em under the table I did… I think, at least. It doesn't really matter though, cause I'm so drunk, I dunno what I'm sayin'!" She emitted another intoxicated laugh, playfully slapping X's face.
X, on the other hand, wasn't so playful. He sighed, rolling his eyes as he tried to lay the girl in a comfortable position on his couch. "God, I don't need this right now…" He left the rest of the sentence to run in his mind as Alia was caught up in another fit of rolling laughter. "Just try and get some sleep, would you? I don't feel like trying to sober you up."
She just stared back at him in a drunken haze. Her face was blank with curiosity not unlike a child's. They stayed that way for what seemed like forever; with X peering over her and herself gazing back at him. "Why're you so grumpy?" She asked, innocently.
"I'm not grumpy."
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Sure ya are."
"…Prove it." This retort was probably an ill chosen one, formulated by the lack of responses in his repertoire.
"Well, everyone's been calling you names…" Alia said, almost yawning.
X hesitated. "Names? What sort of names?"
"Well," She began, not even thinking of the ill-begot consequences this might entail. "People've been callin' ya Mr. Scrooge, The Blueberry Grinch, The Ghost of Christmas Never, The Sultan of Twats, er, I meant twit, and The-"
"Enough! I get the point…" He screamed, this time not withholding any emotion. He ran a hand through his short, messy, black locks in effort to calm himself. Did people really call him that? Was he really a… 'Blueberry Grinch'?
"See? You're doing it again." Alia pointed out with an air of absent-mindedness.
"…" X sat himself down again beside the drunken girl, who happened to be sitting up again, propped against the fluffy armrest of the couch. He lowered his head in his hands, breathing in and out of his palms slowly, constantly. The news was like a bombshell, was he really that bad? Sure, the hunter had gone off and crashed a few parties, but did that earn him the title of Twit, which he was sure to actually be Twat?
He looked up again when he felt the pain of a fist pounding his arm. Alia had smacked him one. "What's the matter little guy? You got the… blues?" She stifled a laugh from her obvious pun on X's choice of armor colors.
"Quit it." He sighed, avoiding his visitor's gaze.
"…I think you need some alcohol. Me too, now that I think it."
His eyes widened in terror. "Oooh no. No more drinking for you, ever." Getting your pretty little hands on another bloody marry would be the last thing I need right about now.
His partner's face dropped with a look of disappointment; she was almost like a child now. "Oh, you're no fun. I'm just trying to make you a bit happier. Say, what is bothering you?"
X turned away from her this time, as if he was expecting such a question. "None of your business."
"Oh c'mon! Won't you tell even me, one of your oldest friends?" She cried, slinging an arm around X's neck and drawing him in close to her. She rubbed her cheek against his in mock distress, feigning sorrow.
The hunter tried his best to keep the feral growl in his throat from pushing out, but at best he could only suppress it enough that is came out as a meek purr. His cheeks blushed, not too comfortable in the proximity exhibited by the situation. "Why do you care? Not like anyone else does."
This time, Alia actually was hurt, and expressed it so by pushing X away far enough to look him straight in the eye. She actually seemed distressed by her friend's vexations, her eyes full of real, genuine concern. The girl could actually pass for sober, that is to say, if she wasn't so wasted. "Hey, look at me now." She whispered, trying to stop X from avoiding her baby blues. She took an ungloved hand, running her fingertips across his jaw, turning it to line his sight with hers finally. "Don't say that, you know we're here for you. You know I'm here for you."
At this, X scoffed, still trying to pull away from her grasp. "As if. Everyone's too happy and busy being merry to notice the fact that Zero's still gone. Without him here… it's just not right." He jerked away once more, his face downcast once more.
She understood now, what was eating him away. The fact that he had lost his best friend was one thing, but the fact that no one cared about the loss was another, more destructive thing. It was true that after a spell, no one cared to even think about the lost comrade in red, and she guessed that it really would hurt to watch while everyone moved on while he stayed back with his fallen memories. "You can't mourn him forever." She murmured, almost scared to say it; and rightly so, as X jumped away from her presence, waving a hand to dispel her words of comfort. His eyes shut tightly to fight the oncoming tears.
"Just you watch me! Even if I'm the last one to, I'll remember him! I won't forget like the rest of you!" His voice began to waver, shuddering in concordance with his body.
Alia nodded calmly, reaching out to hold his rough hands in her own. They hadn't ever been so rough before. "But don't you see? We haven't forgotten Zero, we've just recognized that… that…" She faltered, desperately searching for the right words under X's bleeding watch. "…that he's gone. You have to accept that he won't be around anymore to protect us. You have to stand up…"
"'Stand up'?" He yelled desperately, his mind was in turmoil. "You're telling me to stand up?! When haven't I stood? Was it when the 5th war broke out? Or was it the 6th, the one where I fought on alone? Tell me Alia, when haven't I stood?!" He was raving now, with his hands clutching at the hairs atop his head.
Alia could only watch in astonishment. Her choice of words had been poor, it was true, but she hadn't finished talking yet. So, she went on, trying to pacify this raging storm. "…You need to stand up and be a man. Realize that you aren't alone in this, that I'm right there with you!" Normally, Alia was calm and cool, always keeping her head even in the direst of situations. However, this time she couldn't help but shed tears of hurt at how her feelings for X went unnoticed. "Merry Christmas." She added, getting up and dashing from the small room and out of X's reach.
So there stood a bedazzled and once incorrigible man, who berated himself for being so blind and caught up in his own remorse that he didn't see what was before him. However, this time, he didn't sit idly by and watch his world float away.