Old Fashioned (the Fourth In The Series)

Old Fashioned A.K.A. The One I Pulled Out Of My Ass, or the Christmas Special Souji took a good, long breath, the brisk winter breeze filling his lungs and cooling his throat. He coughed a little. He could’ve sworn he inhaled a few snowflakes or something. He smiled. Back in the city, he would’ve chalked it up to pollution. But not here, in Inaba. I guess it’s gonna snow again this year, he thought, the idea adding yet another spring in his already enthusiastic step, the Suzuki dealership now more rapidly shrinking in the distance behind him. It was a year that went surprisingly well, and Souji was almost sad to see it ending now. Souji had somehow squeaked by the exams besides hardly remembering the material, and now was getting the education he and Yosuke had panicked for months about. Yosuke was starting to give him real, honest-to-goodness smiles again, and they still tolerated living under the same roof besides having done so for almost a year now, which was an accomplishment for most couples, especially at their age; their “mooching anniversary”, as Yosuke often sarcastically called the day that he officially moved in, was only a day away. Souji’s cheeks were starting to hurt thanks to his grin and perhaps the cold. He remembered that campy English song they usually played at this time of year, that mentioned Jack Frost nipping at your nose. He resisted the urge to yell “Hee-ho!” He laughed at himself. He found it funny that memories of that difficult, serious time of his life still brought him fond memories, especially of the many… rather disturbing Persona he had adopted then. They were like children. Very creepy, violent, odd-looking children. He sunk back into a dopey, absent smile. If there was anything working at the daycare taught him, it’s that no matter how hard he tried to push it out of his mind, he’d wanted children. He deemed it rather unmanly to, but lately, being surrounded by kids and things about kids made him feel like having one around to fuck up the house wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe he missed Nanako and Shu or something. His smile faded once he realized how ridiculous the idea was. For one, he hadn’t even finished college yet, let alone got a decent job. The apartment was too small. He wasn’t even sure if Yosuke wanted kids too. Hell, they didn’t even have a really… formal agreement, at least anything beyond being lovers and housemates. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be legal in Japan! Souji groaned. He hated how his head worked sometimes. Can’t get my hopes up for a second… An unnaturally large snowflake landed on the tip of his nose and melted, jarring him from his thoughts with its cold bite. He couldn’t help but grin again. Jack Frost was back to his old mischief. Souji was immediately suspicious when he saw a trail of scattered pine needles leading up the stairs upon his return. His suspicions were confirmed when he tracked them straight to the door of their apartment, where they pooled around the entrance in an embarrassing omen of things to come. Preparing himself for the worst, he reached for the doorknob, unlocking it, turning the handle, pushing it… into a pile of something heavy and elastic. He stuck his head in around the door, trying not to look at anything else, and

saw that the source of the blockage was a pile of green wire with an assortment of multicolored bulbs sprouting out of them like closed blossoms on an ivy vine. Christmas lights. “Yosuke…” Souji groaned. “I thought you said we wouldn’t get a Christmas tree this year!” “I lied!” Yosuke huffed. Souji heard him fussing with something. Looking up, he saw that he was throttling a lopsided evergreen tree (positioned in a stand in the small space between the coffee table and the balcony door) with another segment of the lighted wire. Souji eyed a stray loop of lighting pulled dangerously taut around Yosuke’s ankle. He quickly stepped up behind him, just in case. “How the hell’d you get this up here?” Souji asked, incredulous. “Well, I went out and bought it myself!” Yosuke proudly declared, working his fingers through a tightened knot that had somehow formed on the length he was messing with. “The guy who worked at the tent thing they sold it at helped me get it home, since we don’t have a car…” Souji felt a small pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. They haven’t gotten a car or even a motorcycle since last year, since Yosuke didn’t want to possibly aggravate Souji’s vehicle anxiety. Even though Yosuke still could have gotten one for himself anyway, Souji still felt responsible. “He went home, and I kinda forgot we had to go up about five flights of stairs… luckily the neighbor caught me and helped me get it up!” “Oh, you mean the brown-haired guy, right?” Souji said, ignoring the tightening feeling in his throat. “Yeah, Kenji!” Yosuke said, smiling. “Turns out he’s a real nice guy, once he shuts up about that one dude. What was his name?” Yosuke snapped his fingers as if the action would jog his memory. “Something with an H…” “Well, you need help?” “If you wanna help, then sure!” Yosuke picked up a messy loop of wire. “Here, just take this one and—“ He pulled it as he turned around, unaware that the length he was pulling was the one that had snaked itself around his foot. He fell quickly, but Souji’s quick reflexes and strong arms caught him before he hit the floor. “Whoa!” Souji laughed, in a pitying sort of way. He lifted him up into a standing position, but still didn’t release him. “You alright?” “Yeah,” Yosuke said. He was laughing as well, although he looked up at Souji with a look of shame. “Well, just, push me up and—“ Souji was startled by an unprecedented yelp of pain. Yosuke’s eyes and teeth clenched. He leaned back into Souji’s chest, hissing in distress. Souji searched for the offending source of pain, and found Yosuke’s still ensnared foot pulled at an uncomfortable angle. “Ow…” Yosuke groaned. Souji sighed. Still trying to support him, he helped Yosuke remove the wire. He then hoisted Yosuke into his arms and then tossed him, gently, onto the couch, if you can believe that. Souji bent over the injured ankle, carefully holding it, examining the small, quickly forming bruise. “Looks like you sprained it,” said Souji, bitter. Yosuke lowered his head on the arm of the sofa.

“Great,” he declared. “Just great. Leave it to me to make an injury out of anything…” Souji slipped a throw pillow under Yosuke’s foot. He walked to the refrigerator, reaching into the freezer, bringing out ice, which he juggled in his hand. “Take it easy…” Souji muttered condescendingly. He pulled out a plastic bag from a drawer that he jerked open, sealing the ice in it. He ripped another drawer open. “You’re always getting hurt somehow…” “Sorry…” Yosuke whispered, hoarse and laced with regret, as Souji returned to his side with the bag of ice and a small, thin rag. He wrapped the rag around Yosuke’s ankle, laying the ice pack on top. He pressed it against the makeshift cast, Yosuke’s foot flinching in pain. Souji was going to snap at him for it, but he bit his tongue, knowing that he’d just regret it later. His job done, he crouched next to Yosuke, who hadn’t looked at him. Souji took a deep, exasperated breath. “Oh, what am I gonna do with you…” Yosuke’s look of self-disgust intensified at those words. He whispered an apology again, turning his face further away. Watching him, Souji remembered what Yosuke had been doing in order to get hurt, and what usually happens every other time Yosuke gets hurt. He knew that Souji wanted a Christmas tree this year. He was attacked by the Halberie and burned on a Souji-suggested mission seven years ago. The anxiety attack, well… that wasn’t entirely Souji’s fault, but it certainly didn’t alleviate any of the returning guilt he was currently experiencing. Souji felt as though the tension in the air was so thick, he felt it flow through his airways when he breathed, like molasses. Fighting through the fog, he reached out, and played with the brown bangs on the side of Yosuke’s shameful face, which had grown even longer and more unruly over the years, but still felt soft and clean to the touch. “Don’t worry about it.” He assured. “Thank you, Yosuke.” Yosuke looked at him, surprised, relieved. Souji hadn’t thanked him in a long time. Souji brushed aside the caramel strands framing his face, and lifted his head. He gave him a soft kiss, as if in gratitude. He reluctantly pulled away, but still smiled, his unusually warm eyes squinting. “Careful,” he said. “You’re gonna melt the ice if you get much warmer.” “Shut up!” Yosuke sputtered, flustered but smiling, returning to burying his face in the back cushions of the sofa. Even after a year of similar (and many times more intimate) displays of affection, Yosuke still often blushed and giggled nervously like the high schooler he thought had died seven years ago. “Hey!” Souji chastised playfully. “Watch the ankle! You knocked off the ice pack.” “It’s your fault…” Yosuke replied in a tone of pretend accusation. “Eh, guess you’re right.” Souji replaced the ice pack on Yosuke’s injured foot. “Well, get better, okay?” “Yeah, because I totally have magical powers and can make my foot repair itself,” Yosuke snorted, unaware of the irony in his statement. Souji gave Yosuke a good-humored tug of his ponytail. “Watch the attitude,” he said, and pecked Yosuke on the cheek. He flushed again.

“God, you’re like a blast furnace. Who needs air conditioning when I’ve got you?” Souji said, picking up where Yosuke left off on decorating the tree. “Uh, we do? You know how hot it gets in the summer!” ”Yeah, because you—“ Souji trailed off. “Oh, forget it. I can’t come up with anything.” “I win!” Yosuke cheered, throwing his fist into the air in victory. “For now,” Souji growled in faux contempt. They laughed at themselves, in wonder of how they haven’t grown up at all. It was only a matter of time before Yosuke, doped up on painkillers and comfortably warm, had fallen asleep on the couch. Souji felt desperate to take him to the doctor, but afraid that he’d be the subject of another one of Yosuke’s cranky tirades. He let him enjoy his nap for now, instead focusing his energy and brainpower into wiring the lights about the tree. He had come to understand why Yosuke had such trouble with it before. It wasn’t because he was clumsy. It’s because these lights are a load of ASS. Souji had nearly tripped himself a few times. The wire had a mind of its own. Souji suspected that it slithered about the floor when he wasn’t looking. He also wondered if it enjoyed his pain. Souji was unhappily interrupted from his cussing streak by the jarring screech of a telephone. Much the wiser from his experiences, he checked if his feet were caught in anything first, before rushing to answer it. Yosuke stirred, awakened by the noise. “Hello?” Souji inquired breathlessly. The decorations reveled in his exhaustion, blinking mischievously in the cover of the tree’s glossy green boughs. “Hi,” replied a gruff, familiar voice. “Is my son there?” “Your son?” “Yosuke, my son.” Impatience quickened his words. “Oh, um… hello, Hanamura-san. This is Seta Souji. You might remember me—“ “Yes, yes, I remember. Is Yosuke there?” Souji looked over his shoulder, to Yosuke, who had been obviously very interested in the conversation. He rubbed his neck, still sore from his uncomfortable snooze. “Yeah, but he can’t exactly come to the phone right now…” The wire wouldn’t extend that far. Yosuke’s father grunted. “Why not?” “He’s… hurt.” “I see.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “Can you give him a message for me?” “Of course,” Souji piped, eager to please the man. Yosuke’s ranting had made him infamous, so Souji decided that it was best to lay low, despite his qualms about serving others. “Tell him that I wanna see him for Christmas… You should come too.” “A-alright.” “Thanks.” Without another parting word, the line clicked. Souji replaced the phone, feeling somehow anxious. “That wasn’t Dad, was it?”

“Sorry,” Souji croaked. “Aw, geez… I gotta go to work to fill in for some schlub, right?” “No, no. He wants to see you for Christmas, whatever that means. And he wants me to come with… whatever that means.” Yosuke stared at him, blank, disbelieving. He blinked, then massaged his eyelids with his hands, as if his eyes had fallen out of his head and he had to screw them back in. “S-something up?” Yosuke dropped his hands, sighing, revealing his now pallid face. The Christmas lights blinked ever on. By optical illusion, the patterns seemed to be flashing by faster, perhaps being fueled by the tension now returning to the usually happy, if unorthodox, home. “Let’s just say that Dad isn’t the most accepting guy in the world.” Souji ignored this out of convenience for his sanity, stepping back to the phone, picking it up. “Let’s get you to the doctor, Yosuke. You look bad.” Yosuke huffed. “Fine.” He sounded an awful lot like his father when upset. Due to the lack of vehicular transportation, Souji had to carry Yosuke on his back. They purposely took the back alleys and roads of the small town to avoid being seen. Not like they would, considering people were barely out in this cold weather anyway. Yosuke snuggled into his red scarf, the tendrils of which flopped about at his sides as Souji slowly treaded through the accumulating snowflakes. It didn’t really help him get any warmer, considering his injured foot hung bare in the winter chill. He flinched suddenly. “You alright?” Souji asked. Yosuke felt his voice reverberate in his body. “Yeah. Ankle just hurts.” ”Ah. Don’t worry, we’re almost there.” They continued the journey for a few minutes in silence. “You know,” Souji suggested, “You could always say you’re too busy to come.” “I have to go, Souji.” “You’re making this more of a problem than it is…” “Souji.” Yosuke had raised his voice. “When Dad says I need come over, I need to come over.” “Why?” Souji replied, his voice becoming louder as well. “You’re an adult. You don’t have to bend to the whims of your parents anymore. You already work your ass off for him, so why do you need to do any more?” “’Cuz I’m all he has, Souji.” Yosuke said, hoarsely. “Mom’s gone.” Souji opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t. “She’s not dead or anything,” Yosuke added, subconsciously noticing Souji’s discomfort. “She divorced him a while back. Five years ago, I think. Frankly, I can’t remember, or really care.” “Oh…” Souji said, softly. “I’m sorry.” Yosuke chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I got over that a long time ago. Mom didn’t really mean that much to me. I loved her, but…” “You just couldn’t work up the concern?” “Yeah. The real victim here’s Dad.” Souji briefly paused to readjust Yosuke to a safer position on his back. “The minute she announced she was dumping him, she ran off

with some good-looking jackass who had a nice car. Most of our family took her side. Dad never got another girl, at least one that wasn’t in it for Junes. “Honestly,” Yosuke quietly continued, clinging closer to Souji. “I’m glad he didn’t. Shows how much I’ve grown up.” Souji found that statement off-putting, but as he deliberated further in silence, he realized that Yosuke certainly had a lot of reasons to feel that way. Souji smiled wryly. The clinic began to draw into their view. “After all that talk about how crappy your father is, how you wanted to stay away from him…” He felt Yosuke tense up against his back. “You really love your father, don’t you?” Souji persisted. “… Yes.” Yosuke hesitantly responded. He groaned, and leaned his head against the back of Souji’s. He relaxed, his burden gone with a simple word. “You know me way too well…” Souji grinned lovingly. “Well, here we are.” Souji stopped in front of the whitewashed clinic, with it’s rain-faded painted sign. Yosuke looked up at it. “Ugh, I hate doctors…” “I know, I know, you’ve told me millions of times before.” “Well, how should we go in?” Yosuke inquired, casually. “What do you mean?” Souji asked, caught off-guard. While they usually weren’t very affectionate in public, Yosuke didn’t really seem indicate an impulse to keep their relationship under wraps. “Well, you know, since I’m on your back, and all…” “I think we should go in just like this.” Souji replied, his voice tinged with anger and hurt. “Really?” Yosuke whined, as if he were assigned a chore. “Yep. Don’t worry, people aren’t gonna stone us like you think they’re gonna.” Souji very well understood Yosuke’s reasons for self-consciousness and embarrassment, but Yosuke needed to realize that he needed to be open and unashamed of the bond they shared. “Yes, dad,” Yosuke grunted, rolling his eyes. As much as his tone made Souji want to drop him right there, he found the term of endearment to be unexpectedly satisfying. “Alright, I need you to get the handle. I can’t reach it…” “But I might fall off!” “Dude, you have three options. You could reach for the handle, I could drop your ass and do it myself, or we can stand out here like retards.” Yosuke decided to open the door. The wide interior was jarringly well lit and white tiled, and the walls were painted in the sterile color of turquoise blue, making the building highly reminiscent of toothpaste. Please don’t be here, Souji repeated over and over again in his mind. To Souji’s dismay, a plump young woman sat behind the art-deco counter, her face pale and her glasses reflecting the computer monitor that she was currently training her face on. A flash of recognition in his eyes, Yosuke chirruped, “Afternoon, Akiko-chan.”

Shit! Souji mentally exclaimed. The woman looked up, her glasses now revealing warm, brown eyes that, along with her reddish-brown hair and freckles, very well accented her name1. She smiled. “Back again so soon, Yosuke-kun?” “Yeah…” Yosuke said, bashfully. Souji had just noticed how quiet the room was as he stepped forward to the desk. His hard snow boots clacked heavily on the tile, the noise ricocheting off of those oh-so-clean-and-friendly toothpaste walls and back into his ears at a near deafening volume. “Geez, Yosuke-kun! This has to be the second visit in two months!” Akiko scolded in a saccharine tone. “I worry about you sometimes, you know?” “Yeah,” Souji said, laughing. “I worry about him all the—“ “I know,” Akiko said quickly, sounding peeved, only barely glancing at him before returning her attention to Yosuke. Yosuke looked pained, but it was impossible to tell whether it was his ankle becoming irritated again, or the fact that their conversation had been echoing to everyone else in the waiting room. An old man was among the more distasteful. “Anyway, do you have an appointment?” “Yes,” Souji answered for him. “A last minute one, for—“ “I asked Yosuke” Akiko snapped. ”I made the appointment,” Souji snarled back, unsure of what was making him so annoyed. Yosuke pinned closer to Souji’s back as if he would melt into him and disappear. He was mortified. However, the staring contest that Souji and Akiko were engaged in ended abruptly as a petit, middle-aged woman broke into a violent coughing fit in the lobby, distracting everyone from the heated exchange. The coughing fit only worsened thanks to the sudden interest. Akiko, unnoticed by Yosuke or Souji, rolled her eyes. “Alright,” she groaned, clicking randomly on the computer until something came up. ”Go wait in room fortytwo,” she said, walking around the desk to attend to the still coughing woman. The two young men both thanked God for her suffering. “So, Yosuke, back so soon?” The doctor said, peering at Yosuke’s bare, injured foot in her aged hands. “That’s what everyone’s sayin’—OW.” “Ookay, that’s definitely sprained…” The doctor very gently released his ankle, and turned to the counter to scribble indecipherably on a chart while he whimpered. She was the kind of woman who was indescribable-the kind who was pretty in some ways and scary in others. Her face was well put together, only vaguely suggestive of wrinkles despite her age, but her lips seemed to be constantly pulled into an unreadable line no matter how lighthearted her dialogue. She had arms that reached out like oak, but moved gently like willow. “Well, just be more careful now.” Her dark eyes drifted to Souji, who was sitting contemplatively in the room with them. “After all, you do have someone else to worry about.” Souji awoke from his thoughts with a start upon hearing his name. He looked between Yosuke and the doctor; Yosuke was staring at the medicine cabinet with a sort of 1

Akiko is a Japanese name that can mean “autumn child”.

contented smirk on his face, which, of course, would make an apple look sickly in comparison. “I missed something, didn’t I?” “Anyway,” The doctor continued, completely aware that she ignored Souji, “I’m glad you came. I’ll give you some crutches, and I want you to stay off of your ankle for a few weeks. Come back in January, and we’ll see where we go from there.” She checked the drawer. “Oh, geez… pardon me for a minute…” she leaned into the hallway. “Naoki! Could you bring me some gauze, please?” “I still don’t see why I had to carry you,” Souji groaned, his body collapsing onto the sofa, which gave a squeal of pain. “You have your crutches.” “My arms got tired,” Yosuke lied. “’Sides, I can’t go up those narrow stairs…” “Right,” Souji breathed. “I’m guessing concrete was too much too?” “Yup.” Yosuke attempted to lower himself into the seat on the couch next to Souji, but ended up falling rather unceremoniously instead. He unwittingly crushed Souji’s hand in the process. Souji yanked his hand from underneath him, sitting straight up on the couch. “What the hell man!?” “S-sorry, I slipped!” Souji sighed. “It’s fine…” He looked down to his poor hand, cursing Yosuke for not investing in softer cushions. But, he decided to look on the bright side of things for once. “Least I copped a cheap feel.” A sharp jab from the left, and Souji was down. “Okay, I deserved that,” Souji said, rubbing his shoulder and sitting up again. “… We so need therapy. Ever notice how much we hurt each other?” “I didn’t mean to hit that hard, “Yosuke chuckled. “Happy almost anniversary, by the way.” It was mooching anniversary day, and neither Yosuke nor Souji had any idea of what to do for it. Souji already had his gift-but was leaving it for Christmas, considering how it cost him an arm and a leg and Yosuke would skin him alive if it were a mere anniversary present. Still, he wanted to do something. However, he was much better off than Yosuke, who was now pacing (as much as his crutch bound body would allow) the living room (working up a considerable sweat even though the temperature must have been no higher than forty degrees) while he slept. I guess it’s gonna snow again this year, Yosuke mused. Lord, even the weather has a better gift for Souji than I do. He couldn’t believe that the notion of gift shopping had eluded him for so long. He rattled off his options mentally. Going to the store would be pointless today, considering the proximity to Christmas and his limited mobility. Maybe I can make something? … No way. Can’t even draw a stick figure… He settled into the overworked couch as softly as he could, leaning his pair of crutches against the wall to his left. There’s that song I made a while ago… no. No. Why would I even think that? No.

The sheer embarrassment caused him to physically cringe. It’s terrible. I haven’t even practiced it in months… It doesn’t even have lyrics… Ugh, it’s so cliché too! I’d look like such a douchebag… Ugh… Why did I even…? A simple “Mornin’,” was all it took to snap Yosuke out of it. Regaining his focus, Yosuke saw Souji shuffling through the doorway, his normally flawless hair reduced to what looked like a long, thick patch of silvery crabgrass on his head. His oversized pajamas made him look uncharacteristically childlike, which wasn’t helped by the fact that he was lazily rubbing his eyes with his cuffs and yawning. “Oh, hey, Souj’.” Yosuke softly said, a smile in his voice and face. If there was anything he was truly thankful for, it was the fact that Souji merely walking through the same space was enough to keep Yosuke’s paranoid brain from self-destructing. Souji grinned, and crawled clumsily onto the sofa, wrapping his arms around Yosuke’s abdomen. Yosuke leaned back—careful to keep his ankle out of harm’s way— resting his head and neck on the couch’s arm. Souji laid his head against Yosuke’s chest, shutting his eyes and listening to his breathing, his pulse. Souji was always this way in the morning; very unlike his usual stern self, instead becoming touchy-feely and, well, it was hard to describe. The closest thing Yosuke could compare it to was that he acted like a happy drunk. Perhaps all the sleep went to his head. Still, Yosuke was quite used to it. He stroked Souji’s gray mop, putting the other hand behind his own head in a gesture of contentment, staring up at the ceiling. “Why’d you get up so early?” Souji suddenly asked, his words slurred by exhaustion. “You’re off work …” “I just had some stuff on my mind,” Yosuke answered, quite truthfully. “Like what?” “Um…” Yosuke trailed off, his question unrehearsed, unlike usual. “It’s our anniversary, and I haven’t really gotten you anything…” “It’s fine,” Souji yawned. “You’re not getting yours ‘till Christmas anyway.” ”But still… is there anything you want?” Yosuke persisted, desperately. Kids, Souji thought. ”Nothing,” Souji said. “There has to be something!” I want kids! Souji thought. “You could always play your guitar for me,” Souji said. Just my luck, Yosuke lamented. “Oh, c’mon, you’re never going to drop that, are you?” “No,” Souji laughed. “I haven’t heard you play in months… Why’d you stop?” “Didn’t have a reason to play anymore,” Yosuke said, shrugging. “But, still, you’re really good at it.” Yosuke sighed. Relenting, he started to push himself up, but Souji didn’t let go. “No, not yet, later.” Souji said, simply. “I actually have something else to ask for, too.” Souji’s childlike voice was gone, now. He was very articulate. “What is it?” “Can you tell me… you think of Akiko?” Yosuke was baffled. “Akiko? The chick at the clinic? What does she have to do with anything?” He felt Souji’s hands grab at his shirt and clench. “You didn’t answer…” His sudden mood swing suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

“Oh, come on, Souji, you’re being silly!” Souji rose to his hands and knees, staring at him. It was a kind of intensity that Yosuke had never seen before outside of the shadow world. How long had it been bugging him? “Am I?” Souji finally said. Yosuke was actually feeling intimidated. He knew Souji wouldn’t deliberately hurt him, but his sharp features, far stronger body and piercing gaze were quite enough to unsettle anyone. Still, Yosuke could feel a very familiar insecurity in his words. Souji knew he was being ridiculous, but he’d be damned if he were told he were wrong. “Y-yes,” Yosuke heard himself say, horrified with his own gall. “Yes, you are.” He repeated, his nerves beginning to ebb. Souji couldn’t find anything to counter with, a true rarity. “Souj’, I barely know the girl. She barely knows me either. Why would I like a girl I barely know?” “I-I…” For once, Souji sounded helpless. He backed away into a sitting position. “It’s alright, Souji.” Yosuke sat up, patting Souji’s head. He laughed. “And you say I’m paranoid.” “I’m not a dog,” Souji growled, staring at the coffee table as if it had insulted him. “I’m just playing with you, relax!” Yosuke leaned back and picked up his crutches. “I’m gonna get my guitar, okay? That’s what you wanted, right?” “Yeah. Wait, you can stay there, I’ll get it for you.” As Souji slid to his feet, he concluded it was a good thing he resisted mentioning his desire for children. They already had kids to raise, and their names were Souji and Yosuke. “You ready to go?” Souji called from the bedroom, pulling on a very thick jacket. “Yeah, gimme a minute!” Yosuke replied from the bathroom, currently battling his hair with a brush. Souji looked on from the bathroom door. “Geez, you’ve been brushing your hair for a half hour now! It looks fine!” “Fine!” Yosuke moaned, throwing his hairbrush into a drawer, glancing one last time in the mirror. His hair, which he desperately tried to smooth against his head, already had defiant bits that stood up no matter how much he tried to flatten them with his hand. Distraught and frustrated, he cursed his reflection. It returned the favor. He grabbed his crutches and hobbled into the living room. Souji stood in the hall, making some last minute adjustments to his hat. As he passed the kitchen counter crammed into the corner next to the front door, a pair of headphones caught his eye-the same one Souji bought for him as a present a year ago. Even though his dad always mocked him for wearing his old red pair around the house, he decided to sling it around his neck anyway. “Nervous?” Souji asked as he kicked the stubborn door into place so he could lock it. “Was that a rhetorical question?” Yosuke snorted. “Just relax, it’ll be fine.” Souji assured, attempting to yank the key from a reluctant hole. “You remember what my dad’s like, right?” Yosuke mumbled. They started their slow, suspenseful, forty-minute walk to Yosuke’s old abode.

“Yeah, I do,” Souji said. “Unfortunately,” He added under his breath. “Well, let’s just get this over with.” “It could go well, you know.” “Key word there being could.” “What, is your dad a homophobe or something?” ”Yep. Well, he’s never said it outright, but he’s always saying stuff about “those fags”…” Souji took a deep, long breath. He rubbed his forehead. “Ooooooh boy…” “I told you he wasn’t a very accepting man…” “Now I see where you got it from…” ”Well, yeah.” Yosuke chuckled. “I guess I was a bit of a prick about that sort of thing, huh? I should call Kanji sometime and apologize…” Not satisfied with the abrupt change of subject, Souji asked, “What should we tell him…?” Yosuke sighed. “I’ll think of something.” He never did. They were standing before the Hanamura household before Yosuke came up with anything solid. They looked at each other pleadingly. “Should we tell him, or no?” Souji said, hoarsely. “I… I want to, kinda…” Yosuke said. This bewildered Souji, considering his actions at the clinic earlier. “But…” “I understand,” Souji said, rubbing Yosuke’s shoulder. “I’ll let you do what you want. If you want to, tell him. If you don’t… doesn’t matter to me. But we’ll have to tell him sometime.” Yosuke looked at him, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. “Thank you…” Helping Yosuke ease up the steps onto the porch, and, as if he were preparing to fight some horrible beast inside, Souji knocked on the door. “Hold on a minute!” was a harsh cry from within. The beast hath awakened. Souji took another deep breath, and tried to put on the most innocent, friendly look he could. Yosuke just tried to keep himself from hyperventilating, shifting around on his crutches to try to find the most comfortable position. The door opened. The man handling the door was a tall, burly one, with a thickly creased face and scant amounts of fuzz on his head, but as Yosuke could attest to, plenty everywhere else. This was obviously the product of a lifetime of stress. However, his face was clean shaven at least, and he seemed to be keeping himself in shape. But, besides the gruff scowl on his face and the threatening bulge of muscle on his arms, Souji noticed his caramel-colored hair and somehow warm brown eyes. He was Yosuke’s father alright. “Hi Dad,” Yosuke croaked, forcing a smile. His father looked the two of them up and down for two excruciating seconds. “What the hell happened to your leg?” He finally said. “Um, accident, heh…” “What was it this time? Another motorcycle crash? I swear, I’m not gonna keep paying the insurance on that damn bike…” Yosuke flinched, but his father didn’t seem to notice. “Um, nope, I had a little mishap with the Christmas tree…” “You two actually got one ‘a those? I can’t be bothered with ‘em.”

“I know,” Yosuke said submissively. His father moved aside, which they took as an invitation to come in. “Take your shoes off. Or don’t. I don’t care.” Souji decided it’d be best to take his off anyway. He did so, and then bent over to help Yosuke with his shoes. “Damn, those are some awfully tight jeans for a guy.” Yosuke’s father observed, cocking his head. Before Souji had a chance to really believe what he just heard, his father returned to the kitchen to look in the oven. He looked up to Yosuke for an answer, who gave him just as stupid a look as Souji was already wearing. “So, uh, what’re you making?” Yosuke asked, hopeful that this would start a mildly pleasant conversation. “Ham, hopefully, if this piece of shit oven decides not to burn it.” “O-oh, um, sounds good!” “Yeah, I guess. Well, take a seat. I’ve got somebody else coming over, so it’ll be a while. They quickly obeyed orders. After several more excruciating seconds, Mr. Hanamura joined them at the table. “Are those new headphones?” Mr. Hanamura said, looking at the pair around Yosuke’s neck. “Oh, uh yeah! You see, the old ones kinda broke on the job—“ “I woulda just gotten you new ones, you know.” ”I know, but Souji actually got these for me—“ “Speaking of which, what’s up with you?” Mr. Hanamura said, staring harshly at Souji. “You haven’t said anything at all today.” “U-um, sorry, I-“ “He’s kinda shy…” Yosuke cut in. “I can answer him, Yosuke.” “Sorry.” His father grunted. “Oh, yeah, I remember now. You were pretty shy. Didn’t you come over some years ago?” “Yeah, I did!” “Yeah, definitely. You’re the only teen with gray hair I’ve ever seen.” He looked at Yosuke out of the corners of his eyes. “Except maybe Yosuke during his exams.” Yosuke blushed. Souji’s teeth started to grate. He always had a soft spot about his hair color. “I’m twenty-two, actually—“ “You’re still a teen to me,” Mr. Hanamura said, dismissing him. Souji clenched his fists. Yosuke noticed his discomfort. “So, um, what have you been up to lately, Dad?” “I’ve started dating again.” “Oh, that’s great!” What kind of woman would wanna date HIM? Souji angrily thought. A real masochist, that’s for sure. I feel bad for her, whoever she is. No wonder his wife left him. Why the hell does Yosuke keep running back to—? “Who is it?” asked Yosuke, an interesting enough question to distract Souji from his brooding.

There was a cheerful knock at the door—banging out some well-known pattern. “There. Took ‘im long enough.” Yosuke’s father trudged to the door, opening it. “Hideo!” came the cheerful greeting. Somebody flung himself or herself at Yosuke’s father (who was, most likely, the owner of the name), who did not budge thanks to his tremendous strength. They hugged him around the neck. “Me-ri-kuristu-masu!” They said, in a textbook case of broken English. Annoying as it was, Yosuke and Souji only noticed one thing; the voice was male. “Hey, Shigeru,” Hideo said, in a tone of warmness that Souji had never heard before. He leaned forward and, presumably, gave the man a kiss. No words could describe the sheer awe that Yosuke and Souji experienced at that moment. “Gosh, it smells so good in here!” Shigeru cheerfully exclaimed. He bounded into the living room, where Yosuke and Souji could see him. He was a short, well-groomed man, wearing a classy double-breasted jacket and dark-rimmed glasses, and appeared remarkably young for his age, which had to be at least in the forties. He looked around. “Wow, you didn’t do anything with the place for Christmas? That’s disappointing.” He noticed the two young men at the dinner table, whose eyes were beginning to glaze over from shock. “Oh! Is this your son?” Shigeru chirruped, striding over to Yosuke. He ruffled his hair, which Yosuke didn’t object to. “Aww, he’s just as handsome as you say he is! And he looks just like you too! Nice to meet you, Yosuke.” “Nice to meet you,” Yosuke would have replied. What his reply really sounded like was more of a gargle than a pleasantry. Undeterred, Shigeru moved to Souji. “Oh, you must be his roommate! Your hair is fantastic! How’d you get that color?” “It’s natural,” Souji slurred. “I can’t believe it!” Shigeru laughed. Finally, something they could agree with. He took a seat at the table, sitting upright, crossing his arms and legs. “So, um…” Yosuke finally said. “Are you and Hideo—um, Dad—are you?” “Are we what?” Shigeru giggled. “Boyfriends? Well, Hideo would never admit it, but yes.” Hideo coughed in the kitchen. “Is there a problem?” Shigeru innocently asked. Yosuke and Souji savagely shook their heads. “No, not a problem at all!” Yosuke cried, shakily. “Of course not, I mean, we’re kinda—“ Souji looked at Yosuke, as if for permission. Yosuke was too flustered to make a face. “I mean, Yosuke and I, we’re—“ Hideo entered, a blackened ham on a tray in his gloved hands. “I always knew there was something up with you two.” He placed it on the table. Shigeru did his best to look grateful for the food. “…Then why didn’t you say anything!?” Yosuke cried, his voice high-pitched and overwhelmed with the force at which his emotions were progressing. “Is there really anything to be said about it?” Hideo stated, simply. The rest of the night went along pretty well. Shigeru did most of the talking, but nevertheless, his unending energy kept the night interesting and fun for everyone

involved. It was late at night when Souji finally decided it was time to go home, since Yosuke actually had fallen asleep on the couch by then. “Thanks for having us over, it was a lot of fun.” Souji said, shaking Hideo’s coarse hand. “Don’t mention it,” Hideo grunted. Souji moved over to Yosuke, lightly nudging him until he woke up. “Time to go,” Souji whispered. “Aww, really?” Yosuke yawned. He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. “Say, you don’t have a car, do you?” Shigeru asked. “Oh, no, but we’ll be fine—“ “Oh no you won’t!” Shigeru moved to a window, drawing the curtains to show snow, heavily falling from the dark sky. “I won’t have you walking back there in that weather! I’ll drive you home.” “No, Shigeru, really, thanks but—“ “No buts! You’re coming with me.” “Um, Shigeru…” Hideo interjected. “Don’t you think you’ve had too much to drink…?” “Relax, I’ve got a high tolerance!” Shigeru assured. After telling him where they lived, Souji had guided Yosuke into Shigeru’s small, expensive-looking car, where he promptly fell asleep on Souji’s shoulder in the backseat. Shigeru saw them when he adjusted the rear-view mirror. He smiled. “Yosuke-kun really seems to like you.” “Yeah…” Souji quietly and happily agreed, looking down at Yosuke’s brown head leaning against him. “Say, you look a little pale, you alright back there?” “O-oh, I’m just a little weird about cars, buses, stuff like that…” “Oh, that’s strange.” Hideo began to back out of the driveway. Souji caught a glimpse of Hideo standing in the window, watching over them as they left. “I know Hideo may seem kinda rude,” Shigeru suddenly said, “But he is a nice man. You just have to get to know him better.” “I’ll say,” Souji said, his tone tinged with a bit of sarcasm. “No, really. He’s done an innumerable amount of things for me. He actually bought this car for me after my old one was wrecked by vandals….” “Really?” Souji said, wholly astonished. “Yep! He’s very generous.” Shigeru chuckled. “Just out of curiosity, do you ever notice any of that in Yosuke?” “Yes, actually,” Souji mused. Shigeru giggled. “I knew they were similar.” Yosuke was pleasantly surprised when he woke up that morning to find it being Christmas Day, and the night before not just some crazy dream. He was quite relieved to find the situation had ended on a happy note, but it didn’t make it any less disturbing. Yosuke sat up and stretched, finding the bed unusually empty. Souji was gone. Where would he be on CHRISTMAS? Nevertheless, he saw Souji’s phone sitting abandoned on the dresser, so he couldn’t call him. He must have stepped out for the laundry…

He decided that he might as well get ready to start the day. He picked up his hairbrush and commenced his daily war with The Brown Monster, then hobbled out into the living room. He looked over at the Christmas tree. They had somehow managed to defeat the lights and arrange the small amount of ornaments they had in the days after their mooching anniversary. He seemed to inherit Souji’s contempt for inanimate objects. “Yeah, that’s right, Christmas lights. We owned you.” He said, feeling haughty and not the least bit silly. At least until Souji stepped in. “… What are you talking to?” “Oh, um, nothing.” Yosuke said. The lights blinked mischievously, most likely finding delight in Yosuke’s embarrassment. There is no joy like schadenfreude. “Oh, um, okay. Anyway, I have a surprise for you. Come on, get your coat and shoes.” “What? I have to go outside for it?” “Yeah, I can’t exactly get something like that up the stairs…” Yosuke narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion. “You didn’t spend a lot of money… did you?” “Just come on!” Souji demanded, masking his terror in impatience. He rushed Yosuke while he dressed, then, finally bending to his excitement, actually carried Yosuke down the stairs. “Goddamn, Souji!” Yosuke cried. “Are you on speed!?” “Nope, just excited!” Souji said, breathlessly. There was a distinct lack of people in the halls in lobby—most likely too busy getting a few extra hours of sleep. Souji jogged down the stairs as fast and as safely as he could, and rounded a corner into more stairs—they were in the garage before Yosuke could wrap his mind around what was happening. “Oooh no,” Yosuke said, shaking his head. “You didn’t.” “I did.” Souji stopped in front of a parking space. There, sat a beautiful, brand new, cherry-red Suzuki GS5500. “Dammit! You bastard! How’d you know I wanted this!?” Yosuke demanded, pounding him playfully on the head. “Boyfriend’s intuition?” Souji laughed, wincing. “I told you not to spend too much money on me!” “Well, too bad! You needed one anyway.” “Well, I did, but—dammit, I feel guilty now!” “Don’t be! I did this because I wanted to. I thought you’d like it.” “Well, I do, but—dammit, it’s perfect! Thank you. I only wish I could ride it now…” Souji laughed again, carrying him back up the stairs. “Just be patient. We can ride it as soon as you heal up.” “Okay…” Yosuke said, whining like a child. He rested his head against Souji’s back in a familiar gesture. “Souji?” “Hm?” “I love you, you bastard.”