It had been a strange week. Outwardly, Mizuki’s life carried on much as before, but in his private bubble he had this mysterious houseguest and a whole lot of questions to entertain.

Despite his own apprehension towards the situation he’d been thrust into, and the other man’s strangeness, he couldn’t deny it was sort of nice to be sent off and greeted by someone every morning and afternoon.

Settia was strange, that was so. He didn’t eat much, and Mizuki could only assume the other man ate while he was alone. But Settia was generally unobtrusive, and seemed to be content just to exist within the apartment walls. He didn’t talk much about himself, but seemed genuinely concerned with Mizuki’s well-being.

The night before had definitely confirmed that fact.

Mizuki swallowed, turning the key in the lock, and pushing the door open.

“How was your day?” Settia’s voice floated towards him as he came inside. “I missed you!”

“Don’t say things like that so casually…” Mizuki replied awkwardly, trying to fend off the heat rising to his cheeks.

“But I did,” came the chorus. “You’re so good to me, Mizuki!”

How was he even supposed to respond to that – other than changing the subject. He sniffed into the air. “It smells like pine in here? Have you been cleaning?”

“Yup!” Settia beamed with pride. He stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, kind of rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his rubicund-tinted skin. Dark wet splotches on his sweats bore witness to his zest.

“I wanted to help out.”

Mizuki returned his smile. “Thank you.”

                                                   ❋❋❋❋

He’d been planning to do something productive when he got home, but laziness got the best of him, and he’d sat down on the bed, with Settia slipping in next to him.

“Looks like a new film is starting,” Settia turned his attention to the muted TV. “Wanna watch it?”

Mizuki moved his gaze from the enigma sitting next to him and towards the screen, where a man was weaving his way through Chinatown, entering an old junkshop.

“Might as well, I’m too tired to make food.” he said, then paused. “Hey, wanna order pizza?”

“I said I’d cook if you want,” Settia countered, eyes gleaming.

“Pizza it is.” Mizuki grabbed his phone, pulling up the number from his contact list. “What kind do you like?”

“You decide.” Settia offered, smiling as he reached for the remote, turning up the volume.

                                                         ❋❋❋❋

The other man didn’t eat much. There’d be leftovers for sure, Mizuki thought, watching Settia sipping at his regular glass of water.

His eyes lazily followed the couple walking together on screen.

“…you say you hate Christmas and  people treat you like you're a leper.”

Settia nudged him in the shoulder, smiling wryly at the girl’s words. “Hah, that’s you!”

Mizuki’s lip twitched, cracking into a small smile. A soft laughter escaped him.

Although he’d been fretting over last night’s events all day, he felt strangely at ease.

“Can’t say I disagree,” he chuckled. “But to be fair, there’s no huge underlying trauma here okay? No dead parents, no sad backstory.”

The weight of Settia’s curious gaze settled on him. He shrugged.

“I’m just the product of two very level headed people who don’t like consumerism.” He shifted on the narrow bed, stretching his legs out alongside Settia’s. “And then there’s the culture thing. No big secrets.”

“That’s good,” Settia looked relieved, as if those were the precise ideas he’d theorized.

“I think…” he started, not sure why he was offering up the information, “My dad never cared for Christmas, and when he moved to Japan and married my mom, I guess he didn’t mind not celebrating. It’s just never been a thing.”

He exchanged glances with the other man.

“I don’t…miss them,” Mizuki shrugged. “Like, we talk on Skype and stuff.”

He wasn’t sure why he was entertaining that question now.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Settia’s eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Do you have a family? Siblings..?”

It wasn’t unreasonable to ask, given the tangent he’d just gone off on.

The other man chuckled. “I suppose I have many… siblings. And the old man.”

Mizuki looked incredulously at him. Old man? His father? Grandfather?

“Listen, what are you doing tomorrow?”

The moment was over, and he was none the wiser.

“Heading to campus..?”

“And after?” Settia looked hopeful.

“I don’t know...? Course work I guess. Why, did you want something?”

“I was hoping we could go shopping. I need a coat.”

Mizuki’s face fell. Why would Settia need him to come along when he already had a key. And besides…

“A coat? I have a spare if you—“

“No,” Settia shook his head. “I’m grateful for the offer, but I’d like you to come with me to the mall…”

Mizuki groaned. “The mall? In December?”

“You pass by anyway, right? I could just meet you there, saves you the trip back here first.”

“In that case,” Mizuki paused momentarily, reflecting on his own situation; wondering at his own forgiveness of the other man and his whims. Even if Settia acted as if they were lifelong friends, they were just a pair of strangers.

“You borrow my spare, okay? I don’t want you freezing to death without a coat while waiting.”

“You’re sweet.” Settia smiled, tilting his head to the side, his tone once more tending towards flirtation. Mizuki was unsure what to make of that, or of his own sudden protectiveness for that matter.

“No I’m not,” he dismissed the statement. “But sure. If you take my coat and meet me at the mall at four, I’ll go with you.”

“Yay, great!” Settia beamed at him – a smile so dazzling, Mizuki’s insides took a tumble.

While it was nothing like him to open up to a stranger like this, he couldn’t help lowering his guard around Settia it seemed.

His eyes rested on Settia, at the sweats slouching on his body in some places, while being too short in others, like at the wrists and ankles.

“We should probably get you a change of clothes as well…” he opted. “You can’t keep wearing my throwaways forever.”

Regardless of where Settia had come from, or if he actually had a home somewhere, it didn’t change the fact that he had nothing here, except those rags and a toothbrush.

“I don’t mind. I like your clothes.” Settia said it with such a straight face and innocence, any of his own comebacks would’ve fallen flat.

“Let’s get back to the movie. I need to get some work done after too.” he mumbled, fleeing by turning his gaze to the film.

“Sure,” Settia smiled patiently.