The following morning he woke up confused, and surprised at how easily he had been able to go to sleep with a stranger in the house. He played back the events of the night before in his mind.

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“What?”

The evening was getting stranger by the minute.

“Like I said,” the stranger replied, still smiling. “You’ve been really good to me so far, Mizuki. I want you to give me a name.”

Mizuki set the pot down on top of the stove, blinking. “You’re not saying you don’t have a name.”

“That depends,” the redhead replied, looking thoughtful. “I have many names.”

“Then what..?”

“I’m Euphorbia pulcherrima, scientifically speaking.”

“What?” Mizuki grimaced, he felt his eyebrow twitch slightly. “Euphoria..?”

“Euphorbia.”

“Whatever. What kind of name is that?”

“It’s Latin. I’m also called Poinsettia, if that sounds better to you?”

“Poin…” he looked up to meet the stranger’s gaze.

Mizuki narrowed his eyes. That deep green shade… Was it really possible that..?

No. Mizuki pulled the emergency brake on his train of thought so hard it slammed into a hillside in the back of his mind. He was not buying into this.

“Yeah, Poinsettia, like the star of—“

“I get it! Forget I even asked.”

Frustration and irritation bubbled up somewhere deep inside of him.

“You don’t seem to care much for Christmas, Mizuki. There aren’t any decorations or anything in here…” the redhead gazed curiously around the room.

“Well no. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

The reply came automatically.

“Why not?”

“Does it matter to you?”

The other man didn’t reply, but his smile had faded slightly. Something like sadness crossed his attractive face.

“So, what. You want me to call you…Poinsettia?” he changed the subject back. As insane as this whole ordeal was turning out, he’d rather discuss someone else’s insanity than his own aversion to this damn holiday.

“That’s up to you.”

“It’s not really a name though…is it?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Maybe something simpler…?” Mizuki wasn’t sure why he was allowing himself to amuse this weirdo. He watched the man’s bright red fringe fall into his face, obscuring those intense eyes. Something like glitter seemed to sparkle within the red spikes. Mizuki swallowed.

“Can I think about it for a while?”

“Think all you want,” the man, currently known as Poinsettia, replied. “I think you should eat first.”

So Mizuki prepared his food and ate. He worked on his essay. Finally, he excavated the futon he had brought from home, and spread it out like a spare bed on the floor.

The two of them didn’t talk much during this time, merely exchanged good nights when the time came.

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He turned over, looking down at the man on the floor – still fast asleep. His long, dark eyelashes were brushing over his cheeks. Even they seemed to be glittering.

Was it really possible..?

Mizuki yawned, shaking the cotton out of his head. No way. Things like that only happened in fairy tales and fantasies. Still… Where had he come from? And why had it been so easy to accept his presence? After the initial shock, more than resignation, it was like a quiet acceptance had come over him.

Carefully, Mizuki stepped over the man to get to the bathroom. He snuck another glance at him in the corner of his eye. Regardless of who, or what he was, the redhead was without question a striking beauty.

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When he headed to campus, it was with Poinsettia’s encouraging smile and wishes of a good day, and when he came home, he found the man was still there waiting for him, despite having been told to drop the spare key in the mail box if he decided to leave.

It would seem he had no intention of leaving at all.

Once more, the afternoon passed in mostly silence – Mizuki prepared dinner, and the other man declined his offering, settling for a large glass of water.

“Wanna stay until tomorrow..?” Mizuki asked tentatively, looking at the time. It was getting late.

He received a grateful grin in return. Mizuki smiled back, realizing that he was okay with that.

“Okay.” He said. “Good.”

He shut down the laptop for the night, starting to get ready for sleep, all the while under the careful gaze of his new roommate.

“By the way…” he started, hesitantly, turning on the threshold leading into the bathroom. “How’s Settia?”

The red-haired man lit up into the widest grin yet. He stood, reaching out to grab Mizuki by the hand – the handshake was firm, warm and soft all at once. “I’m Settia. Nice to meet you!”

He couldn’t help being infected by how thrilled the other man looked, grinning wide and toothily with his head tilted to the side.

“Nice to meet you, Settia.”