Mizuki hadn’t slept well. His thoughts were haunted by the children. He was baffled at how high their spirits had been, and how they balanced childish amusement and expectation with mature insights. How they had seen beyond consumerism.

Settia had also been restless, tossing and turning on his futon in his sleep. A slight concern had gripped him when he noticed it; the Settia sleeping restlessly next to his bed was so far removed from the strong frame he’d been leaning on the night before. He seemed to be shivering.

In the dead of night, Mizuki crept up to retrieve another blanket from his closet, spreading it over the other man, before returning to his bed and finally falling asleep.

                                                         ❋❋❋❋

He awoke to find Settia seated on the futon, staring out into the room, both blankets still draped over his shoulders, his feet tucked in underneath his body.

“Morning…” Mizuki yawned. A quick glance at the alarm clock revealed that it was only nine. He could hardly have slept more than four hours.

“Morning, Mizuki,” Settia said with a smile. “Thanks for the extra blanket.”

“You looked cold,” Mizuki said sheepishly. “You’re welcome.”

Settia smiled softly. He slipped one hand out from beneath his blankets, resting it on Mizuki’s pajama-clad knees. Mizuki stood abruptly, not sure he wanted to hear the next words out of Settia’s mouth.

“I’m gonna shower.” He announced, leaving the redhead staring in his wake as he locked himself in the bathroom, exhaling shakily.

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“You should finish drying your hair. It’s cold.” Settia mumbled, glancing over at Mizuki who was poring over his notes. His hair was moist, clinging to his forehead. He had to admit it was a bit chilly, but dismissed it. “I’ll be fine. We’re indoors.”

“We’re going out though.”

“What?” he turned to face Settia’s expectant, smiling face. “But I need to—“

“It’s not due until January. You can work on it anytime.”

There was no point in arguing.

“Where are we going then? Back to the hospital?”

“No, not today.”

Settia didn’t seem interested in sharing his agenda, and Mizuki chose not to pursue it. For some reason, he didn’t feel like protesting either. As much as he would have preferred to get some work done, he obediently shuffled into the bathroom to blow dry his hair. The room was still stuffy and full of steam, so he cracked the window open, making a mental note to close it before they left.

He grabbed a pair of purple woolen socks from a basket on top of the washer as he left the room.

“Here,” he threw the socks in Settia’s lap. “Put those on, it’s freezing out there.”

Settia’s mouth curved upwards in a grateful smile. “Thank you! You take such good care of me.”

“Yeah, well…” he averted his eyes. That burning sensation was making itself known in his chest again.

                                                             ❋❋❋❋

Soon they were out and about, wading through a thick layer of powder snow. Clearly shoveling this sidewalk had not been a priority.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Settia looked excitedly around at the white that enveloped them all around, and the colorful lights blinking weakly in the slight daylight.

“I think it’d be more beautiful if it wasn’t so cold,” Mizuki replied, rubbing his hands together. They felt ice cold despite the gloves.

“We’re almost there,” Settia assured him, pushing forwards in the snow.

The two of them reached an old, forlorn-looking brick building, close to the city center. The red terracotta was faded in color, and flecks of snow obscured part of the walls. The large windows revealed hectic activity inside the building. It appeared to hold a café or something, though it didn’t look particularly cozy from where Mizuki was standing.

“What’s this?” he asked, though he had a slight hunch.

“Soup kitchen,” Settia replied without missing a beat.

“You volunteered us again?”

“I did it on the same day I spoke to the hospital.”

Mizuki didn’t know how to respond. He studied the building. “You sure about this? I’ve heard that some of these organizations are—“

“Who cares about the organization?” Settia’s tone was unusually strict. It was almost comical to see him furrowing his brow, acting cross. “The important thing is that we make a difference to someone.”

“I guess…” Again, Mizuki couldn’t argue. His lip quirked. “No uniforms this time?”

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Settia flashed him a grin. “I imagine you’d look super cute in an apron.”

“D-don’t tease!” Mizuki reddened, tearing open the door to the soup kitchen and calling out; “Excuse me, we’re here to help!”

Behind him, he could hear Settia’s soft chuckling.

An elderly woman with her graying hair in a bun came to greet them. She introduced herself as Mary. Apparently she was the one in charge, and seemed to recognize Settia. After exchanging some brief words with him, she ushered them off through a side-door.

“Dinner is served at four,” she explained, scurrying down a hallway. “But anyone can come by and grab a meal ticket before that. You won’t need to be in the kitchen, but I’d like you to help serve the food. Though, first and foremost I was hoping you could help us give this place a face lift. I’ve been searching all day for the decorations. They should be in this room here.”

Mary gesticulated towards the boxes and cupboards in the room.

“Don’t worry! We’ll fix it!” Settia reassured her. The woman nodded, bustling off into the kitchen.

It didn’t take very long to find what they were looking for. As Mizuki was digging through a cupboard that turned out to hold nothing but table cloths and boxes of napkins, Settia’s voice came from behind him: “Found them!”

He then muttered begrudgingly to himself; “Not that this is anything to leap with joy over…”

Hands on his hips, he set his eyes on Mizuki; “Look, would you mind running out and getting some fairy lights? This is gonna need some work.”

“Sure! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He left Settia with the boxes, and headed out to find the closest department store.

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Astonished and full of questions, he came into the hall where the meal was to be served; it was decorated in tasteful red and silver, bells and wreaths. Amidst candles and ornaments, Mary walked, wide-eyed, gazing around in amazement.

“I honestly couldn’t recall we had this many decorations…” she mumbled.

Mizuki glanced over at Settia, who grinned back at him.

“Settia..?” he approached him, mouthing, “Did you..?”

“Ah, and here are the lights! I thought we’d put them up along the windows there,” he pointed.

“Wonderful idea, dear!” the old woman put her palms together in excitement.

Confused, Mizuki looked from one to the next.

                                                            ❋❋❋❋

“So—“

They were in the back, getting ready to start serving.

“Here,” Settia cut him off, handing him an apron. “Put this on.”

Mizuki sighed, pulling the apron over his head. Noticing the playful gleam in Settia’s eyes, he gently swatted his arm. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say it,” Settia retorted with a laugh.

Mizuki regarded him, once again noting how expressive Settia was. But it was a soft expressiveness. His face, framed by red locks was always so gentle.

“You should put your hair up,” he said. “Since you’ll be serving food.”

“Oh, yeah. Hang on…” Settia reached into his pocket, pulling out a silk ribbon. Mizuki recognized it as the one he’d been wearing that first night.

“Let me fix it for you,” he offered. Settia had already pulled his thick tresses into a ponytail, which Mizuki now wound the silk ribbon around.

“This sounds weird but… Has your hair grown a lot lately?”

Settia shrugged. “It’s only natural. I drink a lot of water. Tie it tightly so it doesn’t come loose.”

“I know.” He rose to the tips of his toes, tightening the knot. His hands still adjusting the bow, he studied the man before him. Settia’s features even more striking with the hair out of his face. He finished tightened the bow, his fingertips coming to rest near Settia’s ears as he lowered back down. He’d never noticed their shape before. They were almost pointy. Leaf shaped.

His gaze lingered on them. Then, he realized how close their faces were and with a wince, withdrew his hands.

Green eyes glinted at him.

“Thank you.” Settia rested his forehead lightly against Mizuki’s own.

He swallowed, dropping his hands back down, but didn’t pull away. “We…should get out there.”

“Yeah,” Settia agreed, taking a step back. “Come on.”

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Delicious scents wafted towards them as the kitchen doors opened.

“I hardly think we can call it a soup kitchen this year!” Mary dabbed the corner of her eye with an embroidered handkerchief.

Wide-eyed, Mizuki looked at the trays before them filled with cuts of meat, turkey, pies, and all kinds of side-dishes.

“What did you do?” he gaped.

“Pulled some strings.” Came the unassuming reply.

Whatever it was Settia had done, and how was beyond Mizuki, unless he’d somehow managed to call in favors while he’d been out getting the lights, without anyone else noticing. It was the only option.

Regardless, his own chest swelled as he looked at the grateful faces of the other volunteers and of the people soon milling in through the doors; lighting up as they entered the hall that had been decorated with such grace and the meal that had been prepared for them.

He himself smiled with every heartfelt ‘thank you’ or ‘bless you’ he received, while trying not to succumb to the ache in his chest as he came face to face with all these fates; knowing that this was just one day of the year where they were making a difference in these lives. What about the rest of the year?

Once again, he couldn’t understand how they could muster up the holiday spirits, singing along to the young volunteer plunking away on the piano, filling the room with jingles and carols?

And he ached, looking at Settia’s steady hands, serving the food and his kind face as he met everyone with respect and joyfulness.

Settia was beaming, talking with everyone, smiling and laughing; his deep green eyes glittering as they met with every new person’s gaze. He saw everyone.

                                                             ❋❋❋❋

They returned home late, after helping with the cleaning. Heading home, they had walked through the quiet, near-empty streets in complete silence, save for the snow crunching beneath their feet. At some point, Settia had taken his hand, in the same way that he had taken him into his arms the other night, as if he instinctively knew.

As confused as he was, it felt comforting all the same. Mizuki was full of gratitude, but found no way to express it in words. Maybe Settia knew that too.

They walked hand in hand beneath the yellow sheen from the street lamps, and didn’t let go until they were at the doorstep, Mizuki fumbling for his key.