Work Text:
✦✦✦
The city had been lit up with Christmas decorations since the first of December. The lights above his head were reflected in the shop windows, also decorated for Christmas. Colorful baubles popped up from every corner, just like the smell of hot chocolate or panettone sold at outrageous prices.
Every time he passed by a bakery, he stopped to admire the strawberry shortcake typical of that season.
Masaki buried his face in his scarf, letting the sweet steam from the stalls sting his nose. It wasn’t snowing, but the cold was enough to make him want to shove his hands into his pockets and quicken his pace.
He was coming off an endless day spent reviewing sketches for a new illustrated album, and the crowd around him—families loaded with packages, couples laughing too loudly, children with red cheeks—made him feel a little tired and a little nostalgic.
He still had to think about and buy the last Christmas gift. But every idea that came to mind seemed terrible within five seconds: too ordinary, too little, too much like “we live together but I don’t really know you,” which was absurd considering that he lived with Ranmaru, slept with him, argued with him over who finished the delicious chocolate bars. He had known him for what felt like his whole life.
The year before, he had given him a smartwatch, something that would also be useful for work. But this year he wanted something different. Something nice, something that wouldn’t make him seem incapable of giving decent gifts.
When he finally reached the door of their apartment, the pounding in his chest eased a little. On the balcony, there were already some lights turned on, a few bulbs flickering.
Ranmaru was definitely home, and that alone was enough to melt some of the tension away.
Masaki slid the key into the lock and automatically prepared himself for two possibilities: the silence of when Ranmaru was immersed in some work, or the total chaos of Christmas decorations.
He opened the door.
It was the second one.
And for a moment, a half-smile formed on his lips.
Ranmaru was fighting with a string of lights, but the lights were clearly winning over his boyfriend. He was wrapped in half a meter of glowing wire, trying to free himself with movements so clumsy that Masaki couldn’t decide whether to help him or tease him.
“Don’t say anything,” Ranmaru snapped without even turning around, as if he had sensed the smile on Masaki’s lips. “They were unrolling just fine half an hour ago.”
Masaki couldn’t hold back the laugh that slipped out. “You’ve been like this for half an hour?”
Ranmaru spun around abruptly, and the lights did the same, tightening around his torso. His pink hair was even messier than usual, and one cheek was flushed, probably from the heat of the radiators.
“Please,” he sighed. “Come help me before this thing kill me.”
Masaki watched him for a second too long.
It was incredible how he could look even more beautiful with a string of lights wrapped around him.
His pink hair was short but formed little curls at the base. He hadn’t worn it long since before graduation. But with that cut now, he looked divine.
During university he had signed up for the gym, and from time to time he still went to let off some steam.
His body, therefore, was still toned.
He was probably the most attractive teacher in the entire school, and yes, Masaki said that because he was biased—and because he had been so lucky.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered, pretending to be annoyed as he took off his coat.
He stepped closer, trying not to laugh again, but it was really funny to see him tied up like a salami. He would have loved to take a picture, if only his phone hadn’t been dead.
“Don’t move,” he murmured, lifting a section of wire that ran behind Ranmaru’s neck. “If you move like that, you’ll end up hanging yourself.”
“Thanks for the trust,” Ranmaru muttered, sulky but with eyes shining—and not because of the lights.
Masaki began to untangle the mess patiently, moving slowly so as not to tighten the wire too much around him. The lights were warm, and every time he brushed against Ranmaru’s chest or shoulders, Masaki felt his stomach twist.
“Note for next year: don’t buy lights unless these break,” Masaki commented, trying to free a knot behind his back.
“But they’re so pretty! How can we not buy new ones?”
“We’re not spending our money on more Christmas decorations.”
“You’re unbearable,” Ranmaru muttered, fake-offended.
“I know.”
They were so close that Masaki could feel the warmth of his breath, mixed with the sweet smell of the vanilla candle Ranmaru had definitely lit as soon as he came in. And as he loosened another spiral of lights from his side, he couldn’t help noticing how natural it felt to touch him, to fix him, to take care of him.
And to think that the year before, during that time, they were still arguing about where to spend the holidays. Now, instead, sharing the same apartment felt like the most normal thing in the world. As if they had always done it.
“Okay,” he freed him from the last loop of lights, finally leaving him free. “Done.”
Ranmaru shook his shoulders, making the last bit of wire jingle. “Thanks.” Then he added, smiling, “And welcome home.”
Their lips brushed with everyday naturalness.
And yet, Masaki still felt that little shiver run down his spine.
The one that came every time Ranmaru touched him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
Their foreheads touched, and Masaki could almost lose himself in those big blue eyes.
“Grumpy face,” he murmured. “You came back late. Everything okay?”
The question was simple, and right then, Masaki truly felt the weight of the day slip away.
“Yes,” he answered softly. “Now it is.”
Ranmaru smiled—a real one, the kind that melted every part of his body. “Good, we’ve got all these decorations to hang,” he stepped out of his line of sight, showing about ten boxes. “And we have to do the tree.”
Masaki stared at the boxes and started counting them. They had moved into that house with two boxes of home decorations, one huge package containing the tree, and two more full of baubles and other tree decorations. But now, the number of boxes had increased.
“Did they multiply while sitting in the garage or what?”
“They might have had children.”
“Ranmaru.”
“Okay, some things were on sale, I couldn’t leave them there!”
Masaki dragged a hand over his face, but the smile had already slipped out. “You have a problem with Christmas.”
“Says the Grinch.”
“What?”
“I had forgotten about this little flaw of yours,” Ranmaru looked at him with a disappointed expression. “We need to fix it. It’s time to watch The Grinch. tonight!”
Masaki looked at him like someone who had just declared war on the natural order of things. “But tonight there’s ‘Is It Cake?’ We can’t miss it!”
“Masaki, you don’t know the Grinch! This is… bad!”
“Ranmaru, you’re the one who doesn’t get it. There’s a giant cake shaped like a washing machine that might not be a cake. I can’t miss that.”
“You can catch up tomorrow.”
“It’s not the same.”
Ranmaru grabbed his wrists, pulling down his crossed arms like he was taming an offended cat. “And it’s like having never seen ‘Home Alone’ or ‘A Christmas Carol’! You need that movie, trust me!”
Masaki fell silent, his eyes wandering around the living room as if weighing the importance of the debate. Then he sighed—a long, dramatic sound. “Fine. We’ll watch the Grinch.”
Ranmaru’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Really?”
“But—”
“I knew it,” Ranmaru huffed. “Nothing for free.”
“But we’re postponing the tree until tomorrow.”
Ranmaru blinked, torn between victory and compromise. “Okay, okay… we’ll postpone the tree, only if we put this up.” Ranmaru pulled an inflatable Santa Claus out of a box. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
From the picture, the Santa Claus was supposed to be about as tall as Masaki, with wide-open eyes and a slightly menacing fixed smile.
“That… that is huge.”
“It’s festive.”
“It’s creepy.”
“It’s cute. Look how chubby it’ll get,” Ranmaru pointed to the drawing on the paper.
Masaki shook his head. “It has the look of someone who knows too much.”
“It has the look of someone who brings joy!”
“Everyone will see it on the balcony and report us for… I don’t know, something that scares children.”
Ranmaru shook his head, amused. “We have one just like it at school, and the kids high-five it every morning.”
Masaki sighed, surrendering to the idea. “What if it flies away?”
“It won’t, it has stakes,” Ranmaru said, opening the box to look for the little motor to inflate it.
“We have a balcony.”
“It has… ropes then.”
They managed to inflate the giant Santa Claus only after reading the instruction sheet five times, trying to understand how and where it should be inflated.
Masaki promised himself never to leave Ranmaru alone during Christmas shopping again, if this was the result.
The inflatable slowly began to fill, making a sound similar to an airplane engine.
“If this thing self-destructs and burns the house down, I swear I won’t call the firefighters and I’ll let you burn with it,” he huffed.
“Stop it, it’s beautiful.”
The Santa Claus stood up, straight, proud, and slightly crooked.
Ranmaru clapped softly. Like a child who had just been told they wrote on the wall. “Look how perfect it is!”
“It’s crooked,” Masaki pointed out.
“Come on, let’s take it outside.”
And so, half an hour later, on their balcony stood a slightly crooked inflatable Santa Claus, vaguely resembling Santa Claus.
Ranmaru, hands on his hips, admired the work. “Isn’t it perfect?”
“We’re officially the weirdest apartment in the building.”
Ranmaru elbowed him. “Across from us you literally have the North Pole!”
And it was true. The balcony across from theirs had two Santa Clauses climbing up the railing, a series of blinding flashing lights, and Christmas stars hanging from the ceiling.
“There’s a family with kids living there, Ran. We can’t compete.”
Ranmaru shook his head. “We’re not competing. We’re just decorating our first apartment.”
“With a one-and-a-half-meter-tall Santa Claus on the balcony,” Masaki looked at him. “Sounds a bit like competition.”
Ranmaru made a small grimace. “This Santa Claus is an artistic representation of the fact that we have good taste.”
“Good taste?” Masaki raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. It’s iconic.”
“It’s crooked,” he repeated again, exasperated.
The inflatable, pushed by a gust of cold wind, slowly swayed, as if nodding.
Masaki narrowed his eyes. “See? It agrees with me.”
“It’s just… greeting the neighbors.”
“Or maybe it’s asking for help.”
Ranmaru stepped closer, cupped Masaki’s face with his hands, serious but with a little smile betraying him.
“It’s our first Christmas here. I want it to be special.”
Masaki’s smile softened. “It already is.”
Ranmaru tilted one corner of his mouth. “But—”
“Oh no.”
“—if the guy across the way tries to overshadow us with more stuff…”
“Ranmaru.”
“…we could add something.”
Masaki moved his hands away from his face. “We have the lights and… this thing.”
“A giant reindeer.”
“Absolutely not,” Masaki said firmly, stepping back inside.
Ranmaru followed him, explaining the importance of having a giant reindeer at home. “Then a sleigh that plays jingle bells.” He had the tune on the tip of his tongue.
“Not in a million years.”
Ranmaru burst out laughing and wrapped his arms around Masaki’s waist. “It’s so fun to drive you crazy. I could buy twenty more Santa Clauses just to see your face.”
Masaki let himself be held. “You’re awful.”
“Just in love,” Ranmaru murmured, and without giving him time to reply, kissed him.
A slow kiss, lighting a thousand fireworks in Masaki’s chest, again, as if it were the first time.
When they pulled away, Masaki had that slightly lost, slightly indignant look that drove Ranmaru wild.
“…It won’t work,” he muttered, almost under his breath.
“What?”
“The trick with the kiss to convince me to buy a giant reindeer or a sleigh.”
Ranmaru smiled against his lips. “Too bad. That was my winning card,” and laughed, kissing him once more.
✦✦✦
Ranmaru watched the scene, laughing under his breath. When they pulled out the tree, neither of them remembered it being that big.
Masaki was staring at it like he had just decided to assemble the Hogwarts Castle made of 6020 Lego pieces that they still had in the closet.
“Why did we decide to buy it this big?” Masaki asked, disgusted.
Ranmaru loved that expression.
It made him smile every time: Masaki was so transparent.
So sincere in his little huffs, in the way his eyes narrowed. He couldn’t fake it. He didn’t even try.
And to Ranmaru, that was… irresistible.
“Because we wanted an adult tree,” he said, stepping closer to his boyfriend.
Masaki sighed, already defeated. “We’ll put it in the garage already assembled for next year.”
Ranmaru brushed his elbow, like he was encouraging one of his kids to take part in a glue-and-paper project.
“Come on,” he smiled. “There are two of us. It can’t be that complicated.”
Masaki looked at him in silence, then at the tree, then back at him.
“It’s as tall as you.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“Figure it out yourself.”
Ranmaru burst out laughing. The kind of laugh that just escaped him, natural. And while Masaki searched for the base of the tree, Ranmaru mentally started making that list of things he loved about him without really meaning to.
The apartment was messy. The lights and decorations scattered around were still waiting for their place.
But they were there.
Together.
In a home that was all theirs.
The first year, after so much work.
They started assembling the tree, one layer at a time. They fit the pieces together carefully so as not to hit each other, even though Ranmaru knew it was in Masaki’s nature to smack him with a branch.
Ranmaru brushed his back as he passed behind him, just to warn him that he was coming.
The playlist went from a Christmas song to something absolutely not Christmassy. Chosen by Masaki.
And Ranmaru thought that maybe that was the right moment.
Yes.
Because, after all, any moment was right for that gift.
Masaki looked at him from under the branch he was trying to fit, with that focused and slightly exasperated look Ranmaru found adorable. His amber eyes were highlighted by the artificial light.
“What is it?” he asked suspiciously. “You look like you’re about to do something that might make me mad.”
Ranmaru couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m not about to do anything.”
Masaki stared at him for a few seconds, then let it go. “You should do the higher branches, or pass me a chair.”
“I’ll handle it, sweetheart.”
Masaki handed him the branches that needed to go higher. “I wonder how many people you call that.”
“Jealous?”
“You have no idea.”
Ranmaru smiled. “Yeah, actually there are a couple of elderly ladies who ask me to get products from the top shelves at the supermarket.”
Masaki punched him lightly on the arm. “Poor women.”
“Hey, I’m a gentleman,” Ranmaru replied, snapping the last branch into place with a dry, satisfying click. He dusted off his hands. “And it’s done.”
Masaki looked at the tree. It was tall, straight, but the branches were still all flattened, waiting to be opened up for decorations. He sighed dramatically. “Now we have to open them. And it’ll take three hours.”
Ranmaru tapped his cheek. “Come on, let’s make this Christmas tree worthy of being called one.”
They began the slow, meticulous process of opening each little branch, bending it up and down to give it volume.
Ranmaru deliberately passed close by Masaki to open one of the branches next to him.
He left a distracted kiss on Masaki’s cheek.
Masaki grabbed his wrist.
“Hey,” he complained.
The second kiss was slower. More deliberate.
They moved on to the lights, trying not to get tangled.
When the lights were finally in place, Ranmaru turned them on, hoping not to start a fire. Immediately, the living room filled with a warm, comforting glow.
Ranmaru let himself drop onto the rug, leaning his back against the couch they had placed in the middle of the living room just to decide where to put the tree, and let out a loud, satisfied sigh. “It really looks like a Christmas tree.”
Masaki sat down next to him, a little less gracefully, stretching out his tired legs. The tree lights cast a golden shimmer over their hands as Christmas music filled the room.
Masaki leaned over, resting his head on Ranmaru’s shoulder.
He could smell him on his sweater. It wasn’t sweet—it was sharp. A fresh, almost peppery fragrance, with a warm, earthy base that to Masaki smelled like Ranmaru, like shelter, and the calm he found in him.
Ranmaru wrapped an arm around his back, holding him. They didn’t speak for a minute, letting the music do its job.
“We’re not done yet,” Ranmaru reminded him.
“I know,” Masaki whispered, his voice muffled by the fabric of the sweater. “But you’re tired, and you still have assignments to grade.”
“I have time to grade those,” Ranmaru admitted. “And besides, it was worth it, right?”
Masaki lifted his head slightly to look him in the eyes. The reflection of the lights made his blue gaze almost magical. “If it weren’t for me keeping an eye on your decorations, we’d end up with a giant penguin in the middle of the table.”
Ranmaru laughed, a low, happy sound. He left a light kiss on Masaki’s forehead. “What would be so bad about that, Grinch?”
Masaki rolled his eyes to the ceiling, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Stop calling me Grinch. And stop slacking, the tree is still empty.”
“Alright, alright.”
Ranmaru was the first to stand up and offer him his hand, which Masaki took. Then he pulled him close and kissed him.
A slow, tender kiss, but one that could have risked a long break from Christmas decorations if Masaki hadn’t pulled away slightly.
Ranmaru was glowing. “Now, ornaments!” He grabbed one of the extra-large boxes Masaki had noticed at the entrance. He carefully pulled out the contents, making sure not to drop any ornaments on the floor.
Masaki knew that sooner or later, one—or maybe two—would break.
“Here, our life depends on it.”
Some were old glass baubles, spherical in shape, others were those terrible ones Ranmaru had bought on sale, which Masaki had already nicknamed “the plastic horror,” while some decorations, like a candy cane, were gifts from Ranmaru’s parents.
“Look at this,” Ranmaru said, lifting a small dog wearing a Santa hat that Masaki instantly recognized. “I’m surprised my mom gave this to me. She was very attached to it.”
“Yes, I remember. It was always on your mom’s Christmas tree.” And how many times they had almost shattered it into a thousand pieces—but he didn’t say that.
“I grew up with this little dog staring at me,” Ranmaru smiled, a bittersweet but gentle expression. “She said it was time for me to create my own traditions.”
They began hanging the decorations, arguing animatedly about where each piece should go: Ranmaru favored order, Masaki the “wherever it fits” approach.
“This one goes up high! It has to be seen,” Ranmaru tried to hang a sequin-covered teddy bear right at the front.
“Absolutely not! That goes straight back in the box.”
“But look at it,” Ranmaru brought the teddy close to Masaki’s face. “Look how cute it is. It just wants to be part of our family, and we don’t lock anyone in a box in this house.”
Masaki hung another ornament. “Don’t play that card.”
“Which card?” Ranmaru asked innocently.
“The family one.”
“You don’t want to give a family to this beautiful teddy?”
Masaki rolled his eyes. “Do you want this teddy to live in constant fear of falling? Because that’s what’ll happen if you put it there. Leave the teddy alone and hang this one, okay?” He handed him a smooth red ornament.
Ranmaru, defeated but amused, did as he was told. “Fine. But the teddy stays out of the box.”
After ten minutes of silent negotiation, the teddy was gifted to the cabinet where they kept the TV.
The tree was finally full, overflowing with lights, colors, and new memories. Only one thing was missing.
“Okay, now this,” Ranmaru handed him the golden star they had chosen together, a simple but shiny design. “The topper. The honors are yours.”
Masaki warned him with a look. “I’m too short to reach the top, and you’re not lifting me.”
“Please,” Ranmaru whined, with big puppy eyes.
Masaki sighed, but it was a soft sigh. “Chair.”
Ranmaru, beaming, grabbed a chair and Masaki climbed up, leaned forward, and fixed the golden star on top of the tree.
Ranmaru had his hands resting on Masaki’s hips, and when they were sure the star was holding without crashing to the floor, he helped him down.
He kissed him. “See? It was worth it,” he murmured.
“Yeah, well, it’s not terrible,” Masaki conceded. “But only because we did it together.”
Ranmaru savored the moment, his chin resting on Masaki’s hair, who—as always—pretended not to appreciate it.
“Now, shower, dinner, and terrible Christmas movies,” Masaki decided, pulling away and tapping Ranmaru’s chest. “And don’t even think about putting the teddy on the tree.”
“Got it,” he replied. He didn’t move right away.
He waited until Masaki disappeared down the hallway before following him—just long enough to scare him when his hands grabbed his hips.
✦✦✦
The following days were like a whirlwind. Between grading end-of-term assignments for Ranmaru and Masaki’s editorial deadlines, time seemed to speed up cruelly.
It was Tuesday, and Ranmaru came home exhausted. The children were anxious about the Christmas holidays, so they were even more unmanageable than usual, while the middle schoolers were even more complicated, since the term was about to end and they had little time left to make up his subject.
He kicked off his heavy shoes at the entrance, letting them fall with a thud, and slipped off his jacket, feeling drained.
During the Christmas season there was so much traffic that it became impossible to get around by car.
Not to mention subways or buses. Packed to the brim.
The apartment was strangely quiet. He thought maybe Masaki hadn’t come back yet, but the lights on the balcony were on, and he had been the last one to leave that morning… And yet, there were no crumpled papers or pencils around.
“Masa? Are you home?” he called.
He didn’t get an answer, but he immediately noticed something strange: the smell. Not the smell of ink and tea, but a fresher, sharper scent, like a forest.
He moved into the living room. Masaki was standing right under the archway leading to the bedroom area. There, in the middle of the living room, Ranmaru froze.
Masaki had a strange expression somewhere between embarrassed and amused, and his hands were behind his back. But the strangest thing was hanging right above his head: a small sprig of mistletoe, tied to the frame with a red ribbon. It was there, clearly waiting.
“Welcome home,” Masaki said, his voice low but eyes full of smiles.
Ranmaru, tired as he was, took a second to process the scene. Then he let out a smile.
Home. How much he loved that word.
Masaki really was his home.
“Mistletoe, seriously?” he asked, incredulous.
“Well, you never kiss me enough,” Masaki shrugged. It was a lie because, if it were up to Ranmaru, their lips would never separate.
Masaki brought his hands forward. He had two mugs of hot chocolate, steaming. “So, I had to create the occasion,” he continued.
Ranmaru stepped closer slowly, letting his gaze linger on Masaki’s face, on his lips curved in a faint smile.
“So… what’s the tradition?” he asked.
“A kiss under the mistletoe can’t be refused,” Masaki recited, with a shy smile on his lips. “And it brings a prosperous marriage.”
“A prosperous marriage, huh?”
Masaki tilted his head. “Just a suggestion.”
Ranmaru set his bag down on the couch, stepped closer, and stopped. Masaki raised his eyebrows, impatient.
He took the mugs from his boyfriend’s hands and placed them on the coffee table next to the couch. Then he cupped Masaki’s face, his thumb brushing his cheek.
Marriage. That was exactly what Ranmaru wanted.
It wasn’t anything extraordinary, maybe just a social construct, but Ranmaru had always wanted it. He had chosen Masaki, and he would choose him many more times. He knew he was the right person.
Maybe that could have been the right moment, but he didn’t do it. Not out of cowardice, not because of the atmosphere, but simply because he wanted to see Masaki’s surprised expression.
“I love you, Masa,” he whispered, before kissing him right there, under the mistletoe.
It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it was sweet. It was theirs. It was Ranmaru’s quiet way of telling him that no matter how hard his day had been, coming back there made him forget it.
✦✦✦
Like the blink of an eye, Christmas Eve evening had arrived. Masaki was calmer now that he had met his deadlines, and Ranmaru, thankfully, was on a break from school chaos.
Dinner flew by; they had decided that this year they’d be fine on their own, without parents or old classmates. Just the two of them.
Even though, for a while, Masaki had found it suspicious that Ranmaru’s mother—a kind, lovely woman who always paid close attention to her son—hadn’t even stopped by to say hello. It wasn’t like her.
And yet, that day was perfect.
They had planned dinner—no KFC, both of them found it a stupid tradition (and the line was way too long!)—they had stayed in bed long past the alarm, watched Christmas movies while making snarky comments, and now they were there, on the living room rug next to the Christmas tree.
The apartment was bathed in that comfortable dimness. Masaki wasn’t psychologically ready for gift exchange, and for that reason he was filling his stomach with the strawberry shortcake Ranmaru had bought.
“Your turn,” Ranmaru said, sitting across from him, waiting like an impatient child but trying not to show it too much. “Or do you want me to start?”
Masaki looked at the now-empty plate. “You go first,” he said quickly. “Mine requires psychological preparation first.”
Ranmaru laughed, but didn’t dig into the drama. He leaned toward the tree to retrieve a rectangular package wrapped in midnight-blue paper. “Don’t expect anything special. It’s something practical, something you needed.”
Masaki took the package Ranmaru handed him. It wasn’t heavy, but it was well wrapped. Ranmaru had always been better at that. Or rather, Ranmaru was good at everything.
He carefully unwrapped the paper, not wanting to tear it.
His eyes widened as soon as he realized what it was.
It was a tin box containing a set of professional handmade art supplies—the kind that cost an arm and a leg and that Masaki had been eyeing online for months without ever buying.
“Ran…” Masaki immediately looked up at his boyfriend. “Do you have any idea how much these cost?”
“You like them, right?” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I want you to have the best.”
Masaki felt a lump in his throat. Ranmaru was watching him. He always listened, even when Masaki complained under his breath. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice a little rough.
He carefully closed the box and set it beside him.
“Okay. My turn.”
He knelt, retrieved his crumpled package, badly wrapped, with two layers of paper and a little red bow meant to distract from the disaster he had created. His only excuse was that he wasn’t good at wrapping gifts.
“It’s not as expensive as yours, maybe not even half, but it’s what you wanted to make memories,” he said, as his boyfriend tried to find where to start opening the paper.
After many layers of paper, Ranmaru finally got to his gift. It was a small digital camera accompanied by an empty album.
“I can’t believe it, you bought me a camera,” Ranmaru’s eyes sparkled.
“And you can record videos too.”
Ranmaru carefully pulled it out of the box. “Masa… it’s perfect!”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Masaki muttered, feeling strangely happy and embarrassed. “You said you’d like to recreate, somehow, the old videos your parents have. I just… took the hint.”
Ranmaru laughed, a joyful laugh. He picked up the camera and examined it, pressing buttons with childlike enthusiasm. “We have to try it right away! Right now!”
Masaki shook his head but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Now? Ranmaru, it’s Christmas Eve. Can’t you wait?”
“No!”
Ranmaru fiddled with the camera, finding the power button. A small screen lit up. “Ah, there it is! Video mode. Perfect. We have to capture this moment.”
Masaki raised an eyebrow. “Which moment? Your obsession with Christmas?”
“Our first Christmas here! We have to record the entire apartment.”
“We could… do it another day?” Masaki suggested. “When maybe the house isn’t messy?”
“Absolutely not.” Ranmaru aimed the camera at Masaki first, who quickly stepped out of frame.
“I will not be your guinea pig.”
“For now,” Ranmaru teased.
After filming the Christmas tree and the Santa Claus towering on their balcony, Ranmaru decided to set the camera down on the table.
“Are you sure it’s off?” Masaki asked.
“Yes. It is.” Something in Ranmaru’s blue eyes made Masaki’s heart skip a beat.
“What is it?” Masaki asked. Possibly the dumbest question he had ever asked.
“There’s… another gift. For you,” Ranmaru said, his voice a little shaky. “I know you hate sappy things, and I know you’ll probably think I’m crazy for doing this now while we’re in pajamas and under the tree lights, but I realized this past year that even if you were an alien and I were an astronaut, we still would have found each other.”
Ranmaru pulled a small package from the bottom of the tree. Masaki’s world stopped. The sounds of the street, the hum of the fridge, the wind outside—everything disappeared. Only the deafening sound of his own blood in his ears remained.
Ranmaru opened the black velvet box. Inside was a simple white gold band. Perfect.
“I want people to see us, in every way, as one thing. I want that prosperous marriage you told me about, and to spend every single moment of my life with you.”
He took a deep breath, gripping the box. “Will you marry me, Masaki?”
Masaki stayed frozen. He looked at the ring, then at Ranmaru. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He felt disarmed, naked, and incredibly—terrifyingly—happy.
He covered his mouth with one hand, feeling his eyes burn dangerously. “You’re an idiot,” he whispered, his voice breaking with the tears he was trying to hold back.
Ranmaru smiled, hopeful and vulnerable. “Is that a yes?”
“Of course it’s a yes, idiot!” Masaki exclaimed, almost angrily, as he lunged forward and hugged him, sending them both tumbling onto the rug in a tangle of arms and legs.
And he thought that maybe he had never really disliked Christmas.
It was just that he had never lived it like this before.
✦✦✦