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no6secretsanta · 6 years ago

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Happy Holidays @jefferytheghost! I hope you enjoy your gift!

- @silver-eyes-hair-ties

The holidays were coming up.

Shion knew by watching the snow storms roll in; Inukashi had him washing the dogs indoors to keep them from freezing in the cold before they could air-dry. The day’s work was done shortly after dusk, and Shion felt the telltale scratching of hunger beginning in his gut.

“I’ll bring one of the dogs for you soon, Shion,” Inukashi called from the worn staircase as they tossed a small bag of coins his way. A medium-sized brown dog sidled up to Shion and nudged his hand for pets. “Take that one with you, it’s dark and I don’t want Nezumi on my case about keeping your airheaded ass out of trouble.”

Shion smiled and waved on his way out the door, pocketing the coins and attempting to muffle their jingling with his hand wrapped around them.

The wind was crisp and chilled him to the bone on his walk back to their little underground room. The barren landscape, devoid of trees or plants or even abandoned buildings, allowed the gusts to build to a steady stream, buffeting his chapped cheeks.

“What do you think, huh, buddy?” he asked the dog padding at his side. He absently scratched at the spot where the parasitic bee’s chrysalis had been and counted the days til spring. Soon. Too soon.

He didn’t even know if people in the West Block celebrated Christmas–the center of town looked the same as always, full of sights and sound but devoid of sparkling tinsel garland or twinkling lights. He had to remind himself sometimes that people here were more focused on survival than the wasteful excess of holiday celebrations.

He took the stone steps carefully down to their secluded rooms and found that the door was open. Nezumi was standing carefully over the stove, watching a pot of something come to a simmer over the burner. He didn’t even turn when Shion entered, opting instead for a noncommittal “hm.”

“All the dogs are clean and dry,” Shion pulled his coat and boots off at the door and peered into the pot Nezumi was tending. “Hopefully Inukashi’s customers will appreciate having them clean for the holidays.”

Nezumi chuckled. “Not that they’d notice, what with their own stink,” He stirred the thick stew, coaxing a few chunks of meat to the top to test their firmness. Before Shion could protest his sour attitude toward Inukashi’s customers, Nezumi took the stew off the burner and moved it to the table.

He made a sweeping gesture with his arms, announcing: “Your meal is served, Your Majesty.” with a little smirk.

Shion enjoyed his theatrics, especially in these mundane moments when he was tempted to remember people and times long ago, where he was safer, noticeably warmer and enjoying his Mama’s cooking. Sometimes, if Nezumi happened to add certain ingredients, he could close his eyes and imagine he was back in Chronos, no, Lost Town, with his mother and their little shop and his simple job and his simple life–

“Hey,” Nezumi barked, clapping his hands together. “Earth to Shion! This stew won’t stay warm forever and I think you’ll enjoy it more before it cools.”

Nezumi scooped a large portion into a bowl and offered it to Shion with a puzzled look in his eyes.

“Th-thanks,” Shion stumbled over his words–he wanted to cover up his temporary lapse into nostalgia, to keep it from Nezumi before he perceived the change and began berating him for his innocence and–

Nezumi pulled him down onto the sofa beside him. For a few moments, he blew on his own bowl, not even opting for a spoon and tilting the bowl to his mouth to catch the gravy on the lip. Shion didn’t understand him sometimes–he was so focused on the rhyme and meter and precision of a Shakespearean sonnet, but he also liked to lick his bowl clean. His reasoning and his whims were lost to Shion, and while he was coming to know him, slowly, he felt more than ever that he’d never know the real man beside him.

Nezumi’s soft voice brought him back. “What has you so serious tonight?”

Shion took a mouthful of stew to give himself some time. He always seemed to make a fool of himself in front of Nezumi. The rich flavor of beef, garlic, and thyme met his tongue and he sighed, knowing that Nezumi must have had a good day at work, or had saved for something like this. His chest warmed. Why was he so worried?

Shion pulled his socked feet up underneath him on the sofa and settled in, coincidentally leaning his shoulder against Nezumi’s own. The touch didn’t seem to bother him.

“It’s getting close to Christmas,” Shion murmured. He looked at the grain of the table, the carrots sitting atop the pile in his bowl, allowing Nezumi the time to question him. He didn’t.

“Do you celebrate Christmas, Nezumi?”

The other man shook his head. “I haven’t really had a reason to, not since I was young, and I don’t remember those times as much as I’d like.” Nezumi watched Shion’s shoulders sag.

“I guess it wouldn’t really make sense, around here, huh? People have a hard enough time just living.” Shion sighed and took another bite.

For a few moments, neither said a word. The rats scurried to the foot of the table to ask for scraps and bits, and Nezumi picked a carrot and a potato out of his bowl to offer to them. Shion watched them nibble on the pieces, almost too big for their little hands.

“Tell me what it was like.”

“What?” Shion asked. Nezumi’s eyes were trained on him, and a fond smile was pulling at his lips.

“How did you celebrate Christmas, with your Mama in No.6?”

Shion couldn’t form words. Normally, Nezumi couldn’t even mention the city without a sneer and a snarl, but now he was waiting patiently for Shion, his chin resting in his hand. Shion set his bowl down.

“Well…” he began. He could feel Nezumi’s ever-sharp eyes boring into him, but not with their usual intensity. It was… interest? Curiosity?

“We had this little tree, barely taller than me, that fit in the upstairs room at our shop in Lost Town. It was a little thin on branches, but we had a box of ornaments from before the war that Mama let me put up. Some were mirror glass in different shapes, some were handmade out of clay or wood or pinecones…” Shion giggled. “There was a day at school where we painted pinecone ornaments in the shape of flowers by pulling some of the scales away, and I made so many that we gave them away as presents that year.”

Nezumi grinned. “That definitely sounds like you.”

“On Christmas Eve, we’d be so busy making doughs and pastry fillings fresh for Christmas that we usually ate as we went. My Mama made a spiced cinnamon bread, just for the holidays, that tasted the best straight from the oven.” Shion gestured with his hands. “They were shaped like wreaths, braided and topped with cinnamon sugar. They were essentially dessert, but it didn’t really matter what dinner was during the holidays, you know?”

Nezumi looked thoughtful for a moment. “…Were there little lines carved into the dough, like leaves?”

Shion pulled back to look at him, confused. “Yeah, how would you know that?”

“I think I had some.” Nezumi met Shion’s eyes and pressed forward. “It was two years ago, a few days after Christmas. Some of the stalls in town, they sometimes sell food smuggled from No.6’s trash. It’s almost always baked goods and sometimes day-old produce, you know, things that don’t really go bad and are easy to pilfer. Well, I passed by a stall and paid a few copper for a piece of bread, and when I bit into it, it tasted like cinnamon and cloves…”

Shion’s mouth hung open. “…You… You tasted my Mama’s bread?”

Nezumi nodded. “It was a hunk, about a quarter of the wreath left and a little stale, but I remember the cinnamon and sugar. It was… Really good. It was all the food I had that day, but it was worth it.”

A weight settled in Shion’s chest. He could feel his eyes misting over.

“Nezumi, that’s… That’s unbelievable. That something of mine made it past the wall, to you. That we shared something, even though we didn’t know it…”

Nezumi wrapped an arm around Shion’s shoulders, pressing his face into his hair. He knew that Shion needed this moment to think and to reflect, to remember the things he missed so much.

After a few minutes passed and Nezumi ignored the few tears trailing down Shion’s smiling face, he decided it was okay to continue.

“What else?”

Shion sniffled. “Christmas mornings were always nice. Mama and I would make the coffee, then start the ovens so we could get all the cases in the window filled early. Then we’d open our gifts from each other and just… Enjoy the day. Every once and a while we’d have a line of customers, but most of the time we just chatted and remembered other Christmases. Sometimes we got gifts from regular customers, like casseroles or homemade blankets. Lilly’s mom always made us each a pair of cozy socks, and they always managed to last all year.”

Nezumi gathered the empty bowls and set them inside the empty pot, choosing to ignore the dishes for now. Nezumi was leaning back against the arm of the couch with Shion’s head resting comfortably on his chest. He only hoped Shion was too focused on Christmas memories to listen too close to his heartbeat.

Shion felt Nezumi’s fingers carding gently through his hair. “So, what would you like to do this Christmas, then, Your Majesty?” he murmured. Shion looked up to him, curious and a little baffled.

“We’re going to celebrate it… here?”

Nezumi chuckled. “Unless you’d rather we let it pass by unannounced.”

Shion thought for a moment, then placed his hand on Nezumi’s chest.

“Do you…know any carols, Nezumi?”

“I don’t know any, but I’m sure there’s a few books that might be helpful, if we look.”

Shion smiled. “I’d like it if we invited Inukashi and Rikiga, maybe even Karan, Rico, and their mother. Make a real celebration; sing songs, share food, read stories.”

Nezumi could feel Shion’s excitement–it was like a current against his skin. “As long as we don’t invite the whole West Block, I suppose.” he allowed.

The relaxation in Shion’s shoulders was growing steadily with Nezumi’s fingers in his hair and their breaths matching in the cool night, and Shion could feel Nezumi beginning to relax, as rare an occurrence as that may be. He treasured these gentle moments, precious as they were.

“Nezumi?”

“Mm?”

“Could I ask one more favor?”

“Ask and ye shall receive, Your Majesty.”

“I’d like to send a letter to my Mama, if the rats can manage it.”

“… Let her know we both miss her bread.”

#no.6 #no. 6 #no6 #no 6 #nezushi #silver-eyes-hair-ties #silver eyes hair ties #jefferytheghost #no6secretsanta #submission

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