A/N: This is a Christmas present for Danni for the GA Discord Secret Santa 2023! I hope you enjoy this friendship fic for everyone's favorite broship! Merry Christmas 3
Last Christmas
The First Christmas
R.
It felt like a bit of a sick joke, watching all their classmates instantly placated with parties of this variety, seeing their little faces light up at the promise of dressing up and dancing. Ruka shrunk in his seat, his mind still swirling with images of Kitsuneme getting smacked upside the head by Makihara-sensei for not paying proper attention. But the kids around him had lost their long-term memory after years of attending the academy. The phenomenon should be studied, he mused absently, how this awful place stripped away students' ability to truly swallow how bad their lives were.
It hadn't been gotten to him quite yet, and he hoped he could resist it a bit longer.
He trudged along with the rest of them when it came to the decorating. It didn't take much effort to zone out Shouda-san's high-pitched voice as she rambled into his ear about how much fun Christmas was at Alice Academy. He was distracted by concerns for Natsume, who he hadn't seen in a few days. He knew he wouldn't see him there, either, but that knowledge didn't stop his eyes from scanning the vast room every few seconds anyway, a practice he'd developed after only a few weeks of arriving here.
Ruka had imagined, initially, that time at the school would be spent with his hand clasped around Natsume's, that he would be there to ground his friend, to remind him how much he mattered and keep him strong. He'd been naive. The school had rubbed his nose into that fact as often as it could. Everytime he thought he could help, there'd come the telltale ring of a siren or the insidious depth of Persona's voice (somehow almost as bad as the teasing sing-song of Narumi-sensei's) cracking through the air of any pleasant moment.
"I have to go," Natsume said too often nowadays.
And then Ruka heard, most often with Narumi-sensei's grating lilt, another string of words in his mind. You're a stupid child, Ruka.
Ruka was here because he'd decided he didn't want Natsume to ever be alone. He knew what it felt like to be alone, what it felt like to feel like he was watching the world instead of in it, what it felt like to feel so unlike everybody else that he ended up preferring to be away from everybody else. It hurt, and he would never wish it on anybody, let alone the one person in the whole world who made him stop feeling that way.
But Natsume was alone anyway, because Ruka wasn't allowed to follow him everywhere anymore.
As he helped some chipmunks decorate the enormous tree with baubles and bells, he sadly sunk into the realization that he'd also come here because he didn't wanna be lonely anymore either. How's that working out for you? the voice in his head asked bitterly.
They'd forced them all to wear these stupid outfits. He felt like a dog in one of those silly pageants, dressed up and shown off. He looked around and saw puppies like him, trotting around happily, eyes sparkling in the twinkly lights and grins wide. He supposed the pageant dogs didn't know they were being exploited either.
The shirt was starchy. The cape was overkill. It was way too cold for such short sleeves. The morose colors of the boy's outfits at least matched Ruka's sad mood as he once again scanned the ballroom, now in full Christmas Ball-mode, with no sign of the familiar crop of black hair or those red eyes that had captivated him at first sight.
He tried to stay inside, at first. It was warm inside. He could admit it was pretty-the big tree, the big cake, the big groups of kids shrieking with laughter and giddily giggling as they danced together. But the music was too loud, the lights were too bright, and too many people were pressing against him. He'd somehow made it onto the balcony without realizing it, taking in desperate gulps of the freezing December air and rejoicing at the muted darkness of the night sky. So dark it was almost black.
There was a churning in his gut, a feeling that had become familiar in the past few months since he'd come here with Natsume. With his best friend here, maybe he could pretend to be happy for the both of them, try to spur a smile or an approximation of a laugh. But Natsume wasn't here, so who would Ruka be pretending for? Even faking laughter without Natsume felt like a visceral betrayal.
He could be dead right now.
It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Natsume might return from this mission in one piece, only to die on the next. Or the one after or the one after, or the thousandth. And what could Ruka do to stop it? What could Ruka do to make anything better? He couldn't do anything.
You're a stupid child.
He sat, not on one of the many benches, but against the rail of the balcony, in between two planters of blooming flowers, probably kept alive despite the winter chill because of some Alice. He hoped his position would hide him or at least give off a clear warning that he wasn't in the mood to chat if anybody were to come along.
The wind spurred tears. How it spurred sobs, he couldn't say, but in a matter of minutes he was bawling into his knees, ducking his face low so nobody could see.
Christmas in the Nogi house wasn't like this. His house was always done up with white and red and gold with the exception of the tree, which was colorful and obnoxious and blinding, done up with random ornaments that had nothing to do with each other. His mother would lift him up to reach higher branches. On Christmas day, he'd sit on his father's lap as he opened each gift and his mother would swoon with delight whenever he smiled and uttered gratitude. In retrospect, all of his Christmases seemed golden, glowing and warm like the color of his mother's hair.
Not this one.
This one was gloomy like the clouds above him, and there was nothing colorful lights or dancing snowflakes could do to change that.
For the first time since he'd stepped foot on this campus, Ruka let himself think I wish I was home right now, but he immediately took it back. He didn't mean it. Not if Natsume couldn't come home too.
He wiped at his face angrily. Pathetic pathetic pathetic, he told himself. Natsume was on some horrible mission now, suffering horribly. Tears wouldn't help him at all. What did he even think he was doing?
Minutes passed and he stayed put between the planters, glaring daggers at the open French doors leading to a glittery and gilded party. He didn't know how long he stayed out there, huddled with his knees to his chest, sniffling idly, but no amount of biting wind outside or the excited squeals coming from inside were enough to get him to budge.
"You're gonna get sick out here," a familiar voice said from above him, and he twisted around to look up at Natsume, still wearing his school uniform, sitting on the marble railing.
Once upon a time, Natsume wouldn't have greeted Ruka without a signature smirk on his mouth, carefree and wild as he used to be. Ruka used to gaze in awe at how unrestrained the boy had been. Natsume looked a lot different these days, with that cage around him, with those cuffs on his wrists. He should've been smiling, but he wasn't. Natsume didn't do that anymore.
"When did you get back?" Ruka asked, but he already knew. He must have just returned, or he would've been in one of these stupid outfits too, with the fake bat wings sprouting from his back like the sick caricature of the free bird he used to be.
"Hn." A shrug.
"Thank goodness you're here," Ruka said, imbuing his voice with every ounce of excitement he could muster. "This party sucks so bad. Such a bore."
"Can only imagine." Natsume sounded as bitter as Ruka felt.
"OOOOOOH!" Ruka's attention snapped to the screams that had come through the open doors. There was some game or performance going on. Shouda-san had probably told him about the event yesterday, but he hadn't been listening.
"Got you a present," Natsume said and Ruka spun around again in surprise, his brain muddied with all the back and forth. Before he could say anything, he was sputtering against a flurry of cold snow that had been pushed into his face.
"What-" He wiped the remnants of the snowball off his mouth and peered up at Natsume.
"Merry Christmas," his friend teased, and he almost sounded like he used to. Ruka could almost hear the Ruu-chan, huh? in the air. It was hard not to smile then, but it still wasn't right.
Ruka leapt to his feet anyway and rushed to scrape some snow off the railing to make his own snowball. Natsume was ahead of him though, chucking another one at Ruka just as one collided with his shoulder. Neither of them giggled like the kids inside would. But after a flurry of snowballs delivered between them, after they were both soaked in melting snow, breathing heavily, they both had a matching flush to their cheeks.
Ruka had met Natsume in the spring. He had pictured Christmases together back then, had seen a beautiful mirage as golden as the Christmases he'd already experienced. They would meet up in the snow in the morning and make snow angels in their coats and scarves. Then they'd go back to the Nogi house where everyone would be waiting to open presents-the Hyuuga family and the Nogi family all together. He'd been practically able to smell the hot cocoa and hear Aoi's shrill shriek whenever she opened a gift, could see the patient gleam of Mr. Hyuuga's smile, could feel Natsume's elbow in his rib when he made a joke.
The village burned down though, and Natsume's smile went with it. This was the closest thing he'd ever get to a happy Christmas again, Ruka realized. But that didn't stop his heart from fluttering with contentment, because it was enough that Natsume was here.
All he needed was Natsume here.
N.
This could be his last Christmas.
There'd been a few months there at the beginning where he'd let himself not think about it much, but it was becoming hard to ignore. Biting aches in his lungs were one thing. He could explain away a couple extra coughs without an issue. But blood on his palm, dripping from his nose, staining his mouth so no amount of gargling could clean his tongue of that tangy taste? That wasn't so easy to ignore.
Especially now that it was becoming an almost daily experience.
He hadn't meant to tell Persona. It wasn't like that monster was someone Natsume could open up to, but he couldn't help it when he'd sputtered up blood in the middle of a mission breakdown, right when Persona had been speaking. Natsume had watched in horror as the blood gleamed on Persona's gloves and that one fold in his coat.
"What the hell is that?" Persona had grit out and Natsume could only glower at the ground and pretend like he didn't know what they were talking about.
If he'd been a bit more naive, a little less cynical, he might have even hoped that the blood would have stayed Persona's hand about all these tedious missions. But he knew better.
He'd known better as soon as he returned from that very first mission, where he'd been forced to spill someone else's blood. He still shook sometimes thinking about how terrified he'd been, even though by now he'd done much worse.
The only thing in this whole messed up, sinkhole of a world he now lived in that made the darkness less heavy was Ruka.
Ruka, with his arms dotted with goosebumps, barely covered up in the bat costume he was wearing. Ruka, with his cheeks red and eyes shyly downcast. Ruka, who was surprisingly good at chucking snowballs for such a peaceful soul.
Natsume had been outside in the cold for days but only now, with Ruka, was he able to take a real breath of air. He almost couldn't taste the blood in his mouth. He couldn't tell his friend where he'd been when he asked because just being beside him had made him forget all about that stupid mission already.
This could be his last Christmas, but he didn't mind. It was a nice memory to end on.
The Second Christmas
R.
Everytime Ruka swore things couldn't get any worse, life decided to one-up itself. At first, Natsume was gone for a few days every couple of weeks on those mysterious missions he never said anything about. That was bad enough, and Ruka had been sure nothing could possibly be worse than missing his friend that often.
Then the hospital stays started. Not only would Natsume be gone on those missions for days at a time, but when he came back he'd be taken to the hospital right away. Ruka knew Natsume wasn't going to the hospital because he wanted to, or because he was concerned for his health. He knew his best friend well enough by now to know the boy would probably just ignore it all if he could. Not one of his better qualities.
But he also knew that the school wasn't hospitalizing him out of genuine worry for his well-being either. It was all for show, to fix Natsume up just enough so he'd be able to jump into action the next time they summoned him in the middle of the night to do whatever he did on those missions.
Natsume still wouldn't say.
But his face would shutter whenever Ruka asked about them, his breathing would momentarily shallow, his eyes would darken, and his mouth would thin and tighten. Then the subject would change, instantly, without remorse, pushing forward. They were both frozen stock still in this school, sitting beside each other, sharing earbuds and manga and eating in class and never speaking to each other about anything that mattered. Ruka was too afraid to push him, frightened that he'd press the wrong button and that Natsume would whirl around on his heel and yell out what they both knew was the truth by now-
"You are a burden to me!"
And so he contented himself with standing still. Unmoving as statues, they stood together and Ruka pretended like they were a unit when they hadn't ever been one. Ruka wasn't Natsume's friend anymore, he was just another pair of shackles, tying him down, keeping him locked up.
He'd almost convinced himself that wasn't the case a few weeks ago, when Natsume had showed up in Ruka's room right before bedtime, after what looked to be a particularly nasty mission. He'd been bruised and beaten, bleeding all over, and Ruka had called out his friend's name and tumbled to the floor just in time to catch Natsume in the midst of a fall from the window. Natsume had been too weak to hold himself up.
Ruka hadn't understood half the stuff Natsume had mumbled after that, but he listened to each garbled word anyway, grabbing his hands and trying to warm them with his own. When Natsume started to cry, Ruka's tears followed. He'd been right, but he'd somehow still underestimated the depth of Natsume's agony.
In a twisted way, he was almost relieved. He'd intended to be Natsume's support from the beginning, but he'd had so few chances to show Natsume that he could be relied on.
But he wasn't good enough, clearly. He hadn't had the foresight to get a first aid kit before, so that he could clean up those cuts and wounds. He couldn't warm Natsume up when his own hands were shaky and cold as ice. He hadn't been able to reply when Natsume hissed bitterly that he wanted to be a grown up already, that he wanted to have power. The coldness in his voice had shocked him. But he'd been vulnerable to admit it anyway, and Ruka still hadn't been able to say anything to make it better.
His chance came and went and he'd messed it up. Natsume could see clearly now that Ruka wasn't a support, wasn't helpful or useful at all. He was a detriment. He only made things worse. A burden.
The next morning, Natsume had disappeared and Ruka had to grasp for any remaining evidence that the night hadn't been a dream. He'd bought a first aid kit in Central Town, then a few boxes of different kinds of tea and cocoa. Extra blankets. He'd gone back to his dorm and fixed up a chair to rest under the window so Natsume wouldn't fall next time.
But it didn't matter. There was no next time. He'd ruined his one chance to prove himself useful.
Natsume never came to him for help or comfort again after that night.
So all Ruka could do was keep the promise he'd made to himself. If Natsume won't smile, then I won't smile either.
He sat beside his best friend in class, as cold as him, as unmoved as him, as dead inside as him. It wasn't pretend, not anymore. If Natsume suffered, Ruka couldn't help but suffer too. It was hard to muster a smile when the fire Natsume had always carried in those red eyes of his had gone out. It haunted him how empty his friend was now, like he was walking alongside a corpse instead of a boy. Natsume never went to class. Even if he sat in lecture with the rest of them, his mind was still on missions, dredged under miles of tightly packed dirt. Ruka wanted to dig him up, to pull him out again, but this cage had no key. Nobody could bring somebody back from the dead.
He knew better than to expect a snowball fight this Christmas. How could he have been so stupid as to think last Christmas was miserable? He didn't even know the meaning of the word back then!
You were a stupid child.
Ruka woke up and was summoned pretty quickly to the classroom despite the fact that classes were canceled for the holiday. Narumi-sensei was waiting for him, sitting behind his desk and smiling in that insincere way only he could. Ruka tasted bile in his throat and realization washed over him. He knew what this was about.
"You've been performing very well these past few months," Narumi-sensei praised. Despite the cheery melody of his words, they were empty. Ruka had missed at least four classes a week since September. He couldn't remember the last time he'd studied for a test. "You're very bright and you do wonderfully on your assignments-" It was impossible to care about fractions when his mind was always stuffed with worry for the shell that used to house his best friend. "So the administration has decided to give you an extra special Christmas present this year!"
Narumi-sensei's hand extended towards him and the fist opened up to reveal a golden, twinkling star. Ruka couldn't think of anything uglier. "Congrats on your promotion to triple!"
Congratulations? Ruka had just been sentenced to life in prison. This wasn't a promotion. All it meant was that he'd have to spend his Christmas moving all his stuff into a bigger room to enjoy luxuries he didn't care about. Promotion? To have a bigger bed he couldn't fall asleep in was no Christmas present. If they really wanted to give him a special gift, they'd cut Natsume some well-deserved slack.
He walked away from the classroom, shoving the star into his pocket, desperate to forget its existence as it joined its brothers, all three of them soaked in Natsume's blood.
Ruka didn't mind missing the Ball this year. He packed up his things as the sun set. He could hear his classmates' chatter through the walls as they got ready for the party, but he stayed in his dark room. Natsume wasn't on a mission this time, but he probably wouldn't notice if Ruka wasn't there. He had principal duties and all those kids around him all the time. It's not like Ruka was missing anything anyway. He wouldn't have been able to have fun, even if he'd had the heart to try.
The chatter died down as the hour passed and the other kids went to the Ball. Ruka assumed he was all alone in the dorms now, so he started to carry his belongings from one wing all the way to the other side of the building.
His new room was much bigger. The mattress looked fluffier. More pillows. The window was wider. Ruka set down his boxes on his bed. The first thing he did in his new room was move the little armchair from the corner of the room to right below the window, just in case Natsume ever decided he could rely on Ruka again.
With a blank face, he tucked away all his clothes in a new, bigger wardrobe, neatly arranging his belongings on new, shinier shelves. This was the second time he'd transferred all his things into a new room in less than a year. He wouldn't be surprised if his birthday present was a special star badge to match Natsume's-and Ruka had never even seen that badge, and it had probably been thrown in the garbage by now, just like Ruka's three stars should have been as soon as he'd gotten them, but he couldn't bring himself to discard something Natsume had suffered for, even if it made him sick to look at them-but he hoped he could stay put this time.
This was far more than he deserved.
He took his time with the move, but it didn't seem to make a difference. It was only nine by the time he finished up. He hadn't turned on the lights the whole time, his eyes adjusting to the darkness without realizing.
Ruka turned to the bed with a sigh. That stupid costume was in its bag, waiting. Why not.
He wasn't surprised to find Natsume already at the Ball, wearing the same outfit as him, the little bat wings smushed against the wall he was brooding against.
Natsume was always surrounded by kids these days. He'd been like that before, Ruka remembered. People had been naturally drawn to him and Ruka was no exception. It was hard not to be taken in by the wicked red eyes, the fierceness hidden in them, or by the devil-may-care attitude he'd toted from the start. He'd spin a basketball on one finger or jump from a third story window without a second thought or simply do whatever he felt like and everyone would love him immediately. He was just that kind of person.
But Ruka was ashamed to wonder what they were so drawn to now. The fierceness in his eyes had died a slow and torturous death. There was very little left behind them anymore, and none of it was magnetic. He never did what he wanted anymore.
The girls thought he was cute. That much Ruka could understand. They'd grouped him in with that too, and named themselves the Natsume and Ruka Fan Club. But, just like with the stars, Ruka assumed it was due to nothing more than his association with Natsume.
It was the boys that worried him. The boys would crowd around Natsume and fawn over his every act, screaming about how manly and cool he was. Every boy in class wanted to be a Natsume clone, mouthing off to teachers, ditching classes, unafraid to dish out cruel insults to well-meaning classmates. It was almost scary, because these kids had been pretending they weren't miserable for years. Natsume gave them permission to be as angry as he was, and they'd been happy to follow. But Natsume was a walking cry for help, not anybody to idolize.
Not that Ruka had any right to talk. He didn't help Natsume any more than these kids did. He just stood by him like these kids wanted to.
As soon as he spotted Natsume, red eyes met his.
"Ruka."
Just like that, the crowd of boys absorbed him too, and Ruka spent an hour like that, with his shoulder against Natsume's. The boys all played tough in front of Natsume, and every idea or opinion was always followed up with, "Right, Natsume-san?" Natsume rarely acknowledged them, and even when he did it was with nothing more than a grunt. At some point in the night, the cake was served and a few of the boys had trampled over each other to fetch Natsume and Ruka the best slices they could find.
They returned with little mumbles about how the new girl had snatched up all the prime pieces but "These still look pretty good, if you want, Natsume-san-"
Every song blended into the next, like one long stay in purgatory. Neither of them would ever get out. The cake didn't taste like anything. Natsume didn't even finish his.
Ruka cast a glance at his best friend and he realized without a shred of surprise that they had both given up. He couldn't remember what Natsume's voice used to sound like. He couldn't picture playing together. What did Aoi look like again? Definitely not like this zombie her brother had become. She must have had more life in her eyes than that…
He didn't even have it in him to wish they were all together again. Who cares about opening presents together like they were one big family? All Ruka wanted was to see Natsume smile again and mean it.
Even that was too much to ask.
N.
This could be his last Christmas.
He'd run out of his painkillers that morning. He'd have to get his prescription refilled soon, but the stupid pharmacy was closed today for some reason, so Christmas was spent in a dull haze of miserable agony.
Presents fell from the ceiling and Natsume couldn't help but reach for one, hoping there'd be fucking fentanyl in it or something. Instead, all he found was a talking pen that he quickly handed off to one of those kids always hanging around him for no reason (he knew that one's name was Mochu but he'd never bothered to say it aloud since anything he had to say to one of them could easily be said to all of them).
He waited for the night to end. That's how he spent every night now. Waiting for it to end. After this night, there'd be another, and then another. Eventually, however, the night would end and it would stay like that and he'd never wake up again. Eventually, there would be a last night. It could be this one, he mused idly as the kids around him opened their gifts.
It wasn't as bad as it could be. He knew that. He had Ruka.
He didn't have Aoi anymore, or his dad. He hadn't really ever had his mom to begin with. His only family left was Ruka.
Though he could say that about the toddler in the DA too, but he really hadn't meant to let that show. It was hard not to feel for a two-year-old though. He'd covered too many missions for Youichi, in the end, and Persona had caught on. Now he was getting threats about protecting a baby too. As if shit couldn't get worse for him.
It was for the best that he cut it out. For good. He hadn't meant to involve Youichi in all this but it was too late now. He was tired of protecting people. He was tired of the missions. He was tired of the taste of blood in his mouth or how it never went away, not even for a second. He was tired of counting down his own life. He was tired of how relieved he was that it would, eventually, end. He was tired of these stupid girls following him around everywhere and he was tired of the boys agreeing with every single one of the few words he ever said.
He was just tired.
The one thing he never got tired of was Ruka, but it was clear that Ruka was tired of him.
Natsume couldn't bring himself to do the things they used to. They didn't play games or chat through the night anymore. He wanted to do those things, for Ruka's sake, but he didn't have the energy to fake smiles these days. The most he could offer were small platitudes-offering an earbud in the middle of class, leaning his shoulder against his as they walked down the hall, giving him the slimy vegetables he knew Ruka liked during dinner-but he knew that wasn't enough.
He glanced at his best friend and could see it, the cloud in his blue eyes. He regrets coming here with me. Who wouldn't?
If Natsume hadn't been so selfish, Ruka could be at home now. He could be celebrating Christmas with his family, opening presents meant for him instead of random garbage falling from the sky. He could be smiling right now, something he almost never did anymore.
Ruka was supposed to be soft and gentle. He was supposed to be kind. Natsume couldn't recognize his best friend anymore. His face was hard and bitter. He used harsh and cruel words that didn't sound right coming out of his mouth, like even in this miserable state he couldn't pronounce them correctly. Ruka was the only boy in the group who didn't even look up at the presents falling towards them. There was no consolation prize to be found here. Natsume had ruined things far too much.
Of all the horrible things Natsume had done since they'd come to this hellhole, of all the blood he'd spilled and hurt he'd doled out, of all the violence, of all the suffering, the very worst thing he'd done was kill his best friend's soul.
He didn't want to weigh down on his friend anymore. He knew what that meant, and he couldn't pretend that the solution didn't tempt him. One day-sooner rather than later-he'd be dead, and Ruka wouldn't have to worry about faking anything for him, about how heavy he was to carry all by himself. He could make new friends and hopefully, eventually-sooner rather than later-he'd forget he'd ever met Natsume. Natsume would become nothing more than a bitter memory of why Ruka had to come to this evil school in the first place.
Natsume wanted to slink off and hide in the tree like he'd been earlier before Kitsuneme had found him and dragged him down to "hang out" with the others. It had been hours and he hadn't taken in a single word any of them had said.
He wasn't just a bad friend to Ruka, he was a bad friend to these kids too, if they could even be called friends. If he had any say in the matter, they'd all stay away from him. He never wanted to say a word again, not in his whole life. But they all deserved better than that-even the girls constantly ogling him deserved better.
He imagined, for the hundredth time, his funeral. His favorite fantasy nowadays was being in a coffin, being dead, being buried. Sometimes, he liked to think about the funeral, liked to think about the shoulders of everyone in the room relaxing all at once.
He couldn't do that yet, though. Not to himself, at least. There were still people to protect, missions to carry out, punishments to take. But maybe, one day, soon, he'd run into a situation he couldn't escape. Persona had told him what to do in circumstances like that. At first, the idea had brought a chill down his spine, but it slowly started to appeal to him. Now, he couldn't wait. Everytime he went on a mission, he hoped this one was too hard, that he would be outclassed by the enemy, that he'd have no choice but to blow himself up.
And everytime he had to go back to the Academy, his clothes stained in blood-both his own and not his own-with that god-awful cat mask stuck on his face, his breath heavy and hot, his hands clammy and cold, alive alive alive alive.
He prayed that this was his last Christmas.
The Third Christmas
R.
He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to wake up on Christmas morning excited. As a kid, he'd rush to the tree in giddy anticipation of all the gifts that would be exchanged. This almost felt like that, but a bit more muddled, confused.
He pretended like it was no big deal but when the Ball started, he was on time, a first since he'd been pretty late the past couple years.
He'd never experienced the Ball like this, from this perspective, like a normal Academy student. It almost felt wrong, just how foreign it was. But standing beside Sakura, it was hard not to get just a little excited about each and every quirk of the night. The things he'd found mundane, boring, and even pathetic last year felt so much more magical this time around. The sparkle in her eyes at seeing the tree he'd never been impressed by, her giddiness about the costumes he'd written off as impractical, her excitement about the cake he couldn't even taste last year-
This year it all felt different. This year, he could feel.
He watched Sakura barter her free evening to Mr. Bear in exchange for playing with Youichi, and the Ball seemed even better somehow. He wasn't sure if he'd say this Christmas was golden like the ones with his family had been, but it was still warm.
Orange, maybe.
Definitely not the dull gray last Christmas had been.
Maybe that's why he did it. She'd made this night magical again, and he wanted to thank her-for that, but also for reminding him that stars shined at night and that the sun glowed during the day, for liking his dreams and holding his hand, for dancing with him and counting him as a friend when she'd had no reason to, for giving him a reason to smile, for giving Natsume a reason to smile.
He pressed his lips to her cheek and her skin was as warm as she always made him feel.
He went back to the party, floating past the other students with a dopey smile on his face until he saw Natsume eating a slice of cake. Natsume's eyes lit up in recognition and as Ruka approached his friend, he could see warmth there that he'd assumed was long gone, the same warmth he felt around Sakura, the same warmth he found on her cheek.
Natsume loves her too. What had he done? That wasn't fair! How could he do something like that? Ruka had watched as Sakura did the one thing he assumed nobody could do-she'd brought Natsume to life again. He could see the friend he'd lost again, could look in Natsume's face and be sure he'd find a smirk there. How could he be so selfish? He was the worst friend ever. Worse than a burden, he was a-
Natsume squeezed his nose.
The self-beratement faded away and, instead, Ruka found himself smiling at Natsume and the rose-red face of the girl they both loved, suggesting the two of them dance together since they didn't have a chance during the festival.
This wasn't fair, none of it, but only because Natsume wasn't even trying! It was like Ruka had to do all the courting for both of them. If Ruka couldn't be relied on otherwise, he could at least do something to at least help his friend this much.
"TAKE IT BACK, NATSUME!"
Ruka wandered back to where he'd dropped Natsume and Sakura off in the middle of the dance floor, only to find them surrounded by a gossiping crowd, Sakura grabbing Natsume by the collar and screaming into his face. How did this happen every single time?
"You better correct yourself, Natsume! Don't you dare say it counts as a kiss!"
Ruka's eyes widened and his thoughts flickered to that nasty slice of cake Imai had handed him earlier-he hadn't eaten it, of course, but maybe just holding the plate had been enough to curse him with bad luck. He tried to find her in the crowd to glare at her, but his search was fruitless.
Natsume's eyes met his and averted immediately, and any bitterness Ruka might have felt in another universe died before he could feel it. Natsume ran away with all the dignity he could muster, climbing up the tree before Ruka could stop him, but he let him be.
They'd both had their indulgences tonight, and Ruka was just happy to see things were finally fair, even if it was just for the evening. As the night ended, he still wasn't sure how he was supposed to talk to Natsume, for what they'd both ended up doing. But after he'd changed and gotten into bed, he let that question go. They'd both had a good Christmas, for once. Hopefully, Sakura had too.
N.
This could be his last Chri-
"AW, DARN IT-IT'S NATSUME!"
This tree was one of the few places where Natsume was promised solace. He'd spent most of his evening up here until they'd served the cake and he'd slithered down for a slice, intending to eat and come back right away. Instead, Ruka had roped him into dancing with this obnoxious girl, who'd forced herself on him when she'd tripped. It was none of her business if he could still feel tingling on his lips. He shouldn't have said that stuff about her being a bad kisser, though. Not because it had pissed her off; that had actually been pretty funny. But because it had given Ruka the wrong idea.
He wasn't sure how to fix that yet.
So he'd rushed back to the tree, because only bad things happened on the ground and he was tired of bad things happening. And yet. Here she was. Again.
She refused to leave him alone, even for a minute.
And she couldn't shut up either. She kept talking, and no matter what he said, she found something new to get pissed about. At the very least, she stopped being so upset about the dumb mask thing she'd prattled on about that he didn't half understand, but that was only because she'd been distracted by yelling at him.
It would be easy to say that's why he did it. To shut her up. Or maybe it was an accident?
He hadn't meant to…
That's what he'd love to say.
It was an accident, your honor! My mouth fell on hers.
He could see already how poorly that would fly in court. Mikan would start shrieking immediately from the prosecution's side about how that excuse hadn't worked for her, so it definitely couldn't work for him. That was fine. He'd long ago surrendered to her anger. He expected it everyday. She definitely wouldn't think of this kiss as anything more than another tactic to tick her off, and she'd never even suspect he'd put great effort into pressing every bit of love he had for her against her lips while he could, before the moment ended and he had nothing, once again.
No, the anger was expected. That she didn't start screaming at him as soon as she'd pushed him away was a bit of a surprise, but it was probably just a matter of time before she regained what little wits she had and hurled every insult she could think of at him. That would come, but he wouldn't wait around for it.
He leapt away from that tree, because apparently bad things happened up there too, and then he fled the whole party too, because he wanted to end the night on a high.
But when he closed his eyes in bed an hour later, it wasn't thoughts of kissing her that plagued him, that cursed the idea of sleep.
It was the image of Ruka smiling at him that was seared in his brain, unflinching. "Go dance, you two!" he'd said. He'd done Natsume a favor-though Natsume would never say as much out loud, not even to Ruka-and how had he repaid him?
By kissing the girl Ruka loved, the girl that had put a real smile on Ruka's face for the first time in a very long time, the girl whose name Ruka probably drew hearts around in his school notes, the girl who clearly liked Ruka back-TWICE! In one night!
He was a bad friend.
Somehow, after hours of agonizing about how Ruka would react if he ever found out and deciding he should never ever ever ever tell him, Natsume fell asleep, and for the first time in years, the thought didn't occur to him that this could be his last Christmas.
The Fourth Christmas
R.
This Christmas definitely wasn't golden. It wasn't orange like last Christmas either. The girl who could pull such miracles had been locked up somewhere nobody could reach her. Somehow, though, the night wasn't so bad. Maybe a soft cream color.
He could remember how miserable and gray Christmas had been before she'd come here, but now that he'd met her he didn't think Christmas could ever be gray again. She wasn't around, but he could still see her smiling in awe at the party anyway, and just knowing that she'd be happy to be there meant Ruka couldn't help but smile too.
He wasn't happy, really, because she was so far away and he couldn't do anything to stop worrying about her every minute of every day, but he wasn't miserable either. He knew what that felt like now, and it was hard to be miserable when he was still seeing her afterimage everywhere he went.
He was having fun with friends. He even danced with some of his classmates, namely Kitsuneme, who had hogged him for a good four songs. He'd offered Imai a dance, since she'd been so morose and downtrodden all night-Mochu said he was surprised he could even tell, since her face looked just as blank and unfeeling as always, but the truth was that Ruka could see a sparkle was missing from her eyes, yearning for Sakura and for the brother who couldn't make it to the party this year-but she'd turned him down with a simple shake of her head.
The hours passed pretty quickly. Sakura might not have been there, but she'd turned a group of mistreated kids into a family. It would have been impossible not to have fun with each other, even if she wasn't there to join in.
Or that's what Ruka would have assumed, but Natsume had run off pretty early. Worrisome images of a lonely and sad Natsume spurred Ruka into leaving the warm party for the chilly night outside, where he found his friend laying in the snow.
His friend, who was not lonely or sad, but slightly flushed. His friend, who had found Sakura.
Natsume had looked pointedly downward as he'd confessed that, as if he had committed some unforgivable, selfish sin. Ruka would have laughed if he wasn't so genuinely happy. How could Natsume think he'd be anything but overjoyed that the two people he loved most in the world had found each other? He wanted nothing less.
What he wanted was for Natsume to feel safe talking to him. All he'd ever wanted was to have Natsume rely on him, so he could prove he wouldn't be a burden, but how could he when Natsume refused to give him a chance?
Ruka decided to make that point as clear as he could when Natsume coughed into his glove and tried to hide it behind his back.
Friends don't keep secrets. Friends help each other, support each other. Natsume's tendency to self-flagellate and sacrifice himself for no real reason had to end eventually, and Ruka was getting a bit sick of it so he was willing to be the one to end it.
"Meeting you, and coming with you here to the Academy-I have never, not even once, regretted it."
Ruka's biggest wish came true that night. Natsume held his hand, gripped it tight, and confessed in a low voice all his fears and insecurities. Natsume relied on him, and Ruka returned the hold on his hand in kind, the blood between their gloves like the spit of a promise.
He was ready to make a thousand oaths, eager to do what he'd always intended, but there was something about Natsume's voice, something about the way he talked about something happening to him, that unsettled Ruka.
Natsume seemed transparent in that moment, like he was already fading, like a part of him had given up on his life a long time ago, and Ruka had no idea what he was supposed to say to make him stay.
N.
This could be his last Christmas.
He didn't care. This was the best Christmas he'd ever had. His lips hurt from how much kissing he'd done and he was sure he'd never smiled so much in his whole life. He had her alice stone in his hand, her heart in his hand, and no matter how hard the surface seemed, he knew it was fragile, and he vowed internally to protect it with his life.
It was still cold, though, and the wind kept reminding him of something he didn't want to think about.
The end is coming. You will die…
Probably sooner than later.
He used to find consolation in that thought. It used to help him fall asleep. It used to excite him. Now it hung over him like a knife waiting in the dark. Eventually it would fall, and he found himself dreading it. How had this happened?
Mikan.
But then Ruka had held his hand, embraced all the blood in his lungs and Mikan's heart in his hand and the ticking clock on the wall. Natsume exhaled one shaky breath, something he'd been holding in for a long time.
He'd actually thought, once, that dying would be doing Ruka a favor. Looking back now, that same heartbreak that was in Ruka's eyes had always been there, desperate to be leaned on. He didn't want Natsume to die! He wanted Natsume to stop lying.
Natsume blinked and the dread about dying at twelve years old felt twice as thick.
Mikan and Ruka.
For months, ever since he discovered Mikan loved him back, he'd been unable to fight off images of a happy future, a future he really wanted more than anything. He'd been too guilty about hurting Ruka to imagine how he'd fit there, but now that their hands were clasped, Ruka had found his way into every picture (well, almost every picture).
He didn't want this to be his last Christmas.
The Fifth Christmas
R.
Not gray, not gold, not orange. Not even the cream color he'd imagined last Christmas. No. This Christmas was pure blue. Bluer than his eyes, bluer than the ribbon of his new middle school uniform, bluer than the sky he'd gazed at with Sakura on their last day together.
He couldn't find it in him to be sad, though, even though Sakura was gone, even though Sakura didn't even know who he was anymore, even though she didn't know any of them anymore.
Not even though there were two little mushrooms forever in his pocket where his stars used to be, carefully tucked away so they'd be safe, that reminded him that he was missing more than one person, that there was somebody out there who needed him to remember her, even though that task became more and more difficult with each passing day as something pushed hard on the part of his brain that held on tightly to her.
He wasn't sad because Natsume was alive.
Natsume had been dead but now he was alive. He was living. He was breathing. His heart was beating. Just the thought of it could send Ruka into giddy hysterics, and often did, especially when he'd be struck with a gloomy mood at night only to be reminded that Natsume was alive.
Despite how tough it was for everyone in class, Ruka was still happy.
But it was clear Natsume was not.
The first year without Sakura was hard. The class would try to be normal, but the moment she was mentioned, even in passing, a dismal fog would settle over them all, and Natsume would pull himself out of his seat and leave the room, huffing a little under his breath. Ruka had watched as Natsume did his utmost to isolate himself, to separate himself from everything and everyone.
But Ruka didn't just watch.
He knew Natsume. He knew that Natsume was a glutton for self-punishment, that he loved to brood and wallow, that if Ruka let him, Natsume could possibly become the zombie he'd been before Sakura had come to them.
But Ruka wasn't about to let that happen, not again.
He'd been doing a good job of refusing to let Natsume walk away. Everytime the boys planned a hangout, Ruka volunteered himself and Natsume for it. Everytime the class hung out, Ruka dragged Natsume there, ignoring each and every protest out his friend's mouth. Everytime there was an event or a party, Ruka forced Natsume to participate, having learned that his sad face could be a weapon.
He'd had a modicum of success when it came to keeping Natsume alive. His friend had gotten used to this new order and had eventually learned to simply go along with Ruka instead of trying to resist. Natsume's eyes never got cold again, but they weren't really warm either. Ruka satisfied himself with little victories.
But he was worried about Christmas. He knew how much the night would remind Natsume of Sakura, and he was concerned about pushing Natsume too hard on a particularly glum night.
He'd never gotten out of the habit of scanning the room for those red eyes, but this time, as he stood in the ballroom among all their schoolmates, he couldn't find them. Panic only struck him for a moment before he caught a glimpse of the Christmas tree. With a sigh, Ruka started to climb.
To his relief, Natsume was still alive. He wasn't crying or drugging himself or drinking or doing anything particularly drastic. He was leaning against the trunk of the tree, his left hand tucked into his pocket.
"Thank goodness you're here," Ruka said as he sat himself beside Natsume. "This party is such a bore." Natsume only eyed him and hummed in response. "Did you get a present yet?"
"I don't want anything they'd give me," Natsume grumbled, and Ruka didn't miss how sharp his voice got when he said "they".
"I got you something," Ruka confessed, but he only reached into his pocket (the one without the mushrooms in it) when Natsume raised a curious eyebrow. He handed the gift over without ceremony, averting his gaze.
Natsume stared down at the tiny porcelain bird in his hand.
"When I first met you, you seemed like that to me," Ruka started quietly.
"Cold?" Natsume guessed.
"Free," he corrected. "You seemed free. I've always been lonely, my whole life, before I met you. You were confident and you knew what you wanted, and I wanted to be like you. I wanted to be by your side until the end of time. I still want that." He kept to himself the sad thought that he knew he wasn't enough anymore. "I know you miss Sakura, but I don't want you to feel like I did. You're my best friend, Natsume. Sakura's not here, but you're not alone."
Natsume didn't say anything, but Ruka watched as he closed his fingers around the bird and pressed it to his lips. That was okay too. They didn't need to talk. Their shoulders pressed together and they watched the party from a distance, listening to the excitement below ebb and flow. They stayed there together until the party ended, until one of the staff screamed up the trunk for them to get down.
N.
This could be his last Christmas.
He came home late from the party and placed the dainty porcelain bird next to the hourglass he'd gotten for his birthday years ago, next to the card Mikan had gotten him that same year. That shelf was barren except for those few things, and it made him angry how few keepsakes he had from his time with Mikan. Why hadn't he kept more? He'd loved her with every string in his heart, with every pump of his blood, with every line in his skin, and he'd somehow still managed to take her for granted.
He stared hard at the bird, his Christmas present, and regretted that he'd been taking Ruka for granted too. It wasn't easy to find a friend like Ruka, he knew that. He had this habit of messing things up, of hurting people even when he didn't mean to.
His eyes dragged across the shelf until they found the tiny hourglass. He turned it over and watched the sand trickle down. It wouldn't take long. It was small. He wanted time to stop, not because he relished this particular moment, but because he was scared. He was living on borrowed time. He knew that. Everyone knew that. He was a zombie, and though he hadn't really wanted to die, he also couldn't help but feel that he shouldn't be alive.
He shouldn't be alive.
Keeping him alive had caused too much trouble. It had brought suffering and no good. He wasn't even useful anymore. He could hear Mikan's shrieking voice in his head whenever he thought of using his alice, and could see Ruka's sad eyes when he thought about how little time he must have left. Why push it? He deserved to die, but he couldn't do that to them. Thus, he couldn't do anything.
That didn't mean he felt alright with any breath he took. There was a girl out there-somewhere, somewhen-who had given her entire existence up so he could live, but not for his sake, for Mikan's, and he couldn't even honor that because the Academy had gone and erased her memories.
Was he going to die before he could see her again? Could he ever see her again?
That all remained dubious. Nobody seemed to have the answer to that question.
The sand had completed its descent. Natsume blinked.
"You're not alone."
He turned the hourglass over again. He wasn't alone, no matter how sad he was. He was going to see Mikan again; he swore as much to himself, whether the stupid school let him or not. But until then, he was going to live, with just as much conviction as he'd had right before his first death.
He had a best friend. He had lots of friends, actually. The shelf suddenly had so much more space than it had before. Why weren't there more pictures here? Why didn't he have more keepsakes from all his friends? Had he been taking everyone for granted?
He walked away from the shelf and started getting ready for bed, deciding that he was going to start joining in on photo opportunities starting tomorrow, as cringey as he found them.
Mikan wouldn't want him to be sad all the time. She probably still didn't want him to be sad, because she'd promised to always love him. He'd find her and remind her of that promise and then, undoubtedly, she'd apologize for putting him through all this.
But in the meantime, he was going to play basketball with his friends. He was going to watch movies and have sleepovers and enjoy the taste of food. He was going to let people talk about her and maybe, someday, he'd say something about her too. He was going to stop taking Ruka for granted. He was going to live, because he wasn't alone, even without her there.
He had a best friend who needed him.
This was not going to be his last Christmas.
The Ninth Christmas
R.
The past few Christmases had been fun. He'd danced a lot, had a lot of cake, spent a lot of time in the tree with Natsume, listened to too much Christmas music.
They hadn't been dreary, but Sakura always made everything brighter. She was so happy to be back, everyone was happy to have her back, and that gratitude didn't fade even as months passed. Rescuing Imai had also brightened the Academy up, somehow, though he'd never associated her with light before. She smiled a lot more than he remembered her doing, and he was surprised by how lovely she looked when she was unequivocally happy the way she was now. Everyone was happy now.
Ruka was overjoyed to have her back-both of them. It was like most things had finally slid into place, and it was a long time coming.
Natsume monopolized Sakura most of the time, and the Ball was no exception. He only let Ruka dance with her, and he'd been eager to get her back after two songs. Ruka watched them for the first few hours of the party, happy because his every wish had come true. Happy, because Sakura was back. Happy, because Imai was back. Happy, because Natsume was smiling.
Sad, because Natsume hadn't really smiled without Sakura.
Ruka wondered what the heck he was doing. It was a stupid thought. He knew Natsume loved him, that they were best friends, but why couldn't he be enough for him? Why couldn't he be the one to rescue Natsume? Why did it have to be Imai making such a sacrifice? Why did it take Sakura coming back to bring warmth to Natsume's eyes again? Why couldn't Ruka be dependable?
He was happy, but he was also sad. Mostly happy, he told himself, but he still backed away into a corner when nobody was looking-and they weren't, he noted.
This year, just a few minutes ago, Imai had placed a perfect slice of cake into his hands. "You could use the luck," she'd told him, and as he ate the cake in the corner, he couldn't help but agree.
"What's wrong?" Natsume asked, just as he'd finished. Ruka jumped in surprise, turning to his best friend. When had he-
"Nothing," Ruka answered with a soft smile. "I'm really happy. Everyone's happy."
"Yeah, but there's something wrong. Tell me."
"Nothing's wrong."
Natsume's eyes-warm, the way only Sakura could make them-narrowed. "As I recall, a few years ago on this very day, you'd insisted that I confide in you. Why can't you confide in me?"
That logic would have been rock solid if Natsume had actually been honest in the years between then and now, but Ruka wasn't about to argue that point. He sighed and turned away from those red eyes. Looking into them would only make this harder. "I just wish I'd been able to do more for you. You've been so miserable these past few years, and you're only happy now that we have Sakura back. I just wish I could've done that for you, but I've only ever been a burden-"
"Ruka."
Ruka blinked in surprise. Natsume had never used that register with him before. He couldn't really think of a time Natsume had ever been angry with him, but there was a first for everything. He hadn't raised his voice, but there'd been nothing gentle about his tone. Had he said something offensive?
"I would be dead if it wasn't for you." Ruka wanted to argue that point; Imai and Sakura had been the ones to save his life, not Ruka. But Natsume kept talking. "You saved my life every single day. You told me once that you never regretted meeting me. I never regretted meeting you either. If you hadn't been there… I don't know what I would've done, what I would've turned into."
"But… you-"
"I could've been so much worse off. You kept me human. Even without Mikan around, you saved me. I didn't know for sure if I was ever going to see her again, but you gave me strength to keep going, because you reminded me I wasn't alone. You don't know how much that meant to me." Natsume's voice had gotten quite soft, so when his voice turned hard all at once, Ruka flinched. "That's why what you just said pisses me off. You've done everything for me. You've never been a burden either, because you have never been heavy. In fact, I'd argue you carried me plenty, and I know I'm not light."
Ruka didn't know why, but he felt the urge to keep arguing. "But-"
"Shut up." Suddenly, his nose was being squeezed by warm fingers. He remembered a cold night, years and years ago, when Natsume had fallen into his room from the window and vowed to get stronger, to become an adult, a night when Ruka had been unable to warm his freezing hands. So much time had passed since then. They were both so close to becoming adults, and neither of them was stumbling now. "Let's ditch this place."
Ruka freed his nose and cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Where would we go?"
"I have a present to give you."
Ruka followed his best friend-because he'd follow him anywhere-into the dark cold outside, onto the deserted balcony. Before he could ask for his present, a snowball had been flung into his face.
"Y-You jerk!"
"That's the best you can do?"
Ruka forgot that tiny reason for being sad in as much time as it took to pack a snowball and send it hurtling towards Natsume. He couldn't stop smiling, no matter how the hours that slipped away, no matter the number of snowballs he took to the face, no matter how the intense flurry had to move onto the solid ground when they ran out of snow on the marble rails, no matter how many of their friends joined them in the cold snow until their little snowball battle became a full-fledged war, with people taking sides and even building forts.
He was lucky to have Imai on his team, pummeling the enemy with a snowball-throwing-cannon she'd pulled out of nowhere, but Natsume had Kitsuneme on his team, who was capable of dishing out airstrikes. As Natsume uttered his betrayal about Sakura choosing Ruka's team instead of his, Ruka decided this Christmas was too bright to be anything but pure white.
Nobody won, and Ruka was reminded of a day, many years ago, when the class had tied after an intense dodgeball game. They'd all become friends after that, but he remembered clearly that Natsume hadn't been able to stick around.
This time, Ruka looked up from where he was heaving for breath in the snow, just to see Natsume looking back at him, face flushed. Natsume grinned, and Ruka made a new promise to himself, to always give Natsume a reason to smile, and to smile even wider whenever he did.
N.
This wouldn't be his last Christmas. He was going to have lots of them.
He had friends. He loved a girl and he was going to marry her, sooner rather than later. He had a best friend, too, who had carried him on his back for miles and somehow thought of himself as the burden. He wasn't going to fucking die, not anytime soon.
This was just the first perfect Christmas of many to come.