When the Christmas Lights Aren't Bright Enough -- Part Seven & Epilogue
Title: When the Christmas Lights Aren’t Bright Enough
Fandom: Gravitation
Pairings: Eiri x Shuichi, Hiro x Ayaka, Riku x OC, Yuji x Suguru
Rating: Ranging between PG-13 and R
Disclaimer: Gravitation and its characters do not belong to me.
PART SEVEN-
Yuji and Suguru brought Christmas into the cold, dismal L.A. beach house. No one could even think of sleeping-not even little Souta, who still honored the existence of Santa Claus with all the depth of respect a devout monk holds for his god. They all sat in the den, children wearing their nightcaps, Ayaka donning a robe to cover the nakedness of her arms, and Shuichi drawing the curtains to keep neighbors or the possible suspicious passersby from seeing the light on and feeling scandalized. Eiri and Hiro sat in separate corners, drawn there by their own shame-however slight-and nursing mugs of steaming hot coffee. Gradually, their glazed expressions cleared with sobriety. Suguru sat on the sofa while Yuji stood, admiring the decorations and seeming to be the only source of brightness in the thick, grey unpleasantness that had settled and stewed in the home.
“So, how is everyone?” Yuji asked, either oblivious to or ignoring the obvious scent of tension in the air.
“Good,” Souta answered when it became clear, even to him, that no one else wanted to respond.
“Good!” Yuji smiled. “Wow, you sure are getting big. All you kids! Aren’t you graduating this year, Hanako?”
“Yes,” she said, and then added, a quick burst of sudden breath, “Riku and I are getting married.”
“Oh yeah?” There was something in Yuji’s voice, something genuine. He sounded intrigued rather than shocked or angered, and it gave both Riku and Hanako pause.
“Y-Yeah,” Hanako confirmed, timid and almost unsure. She looked at Riku, and he looked at her, and something passed between them, something was understood. “Well,” she corrected, meeting her uncle’s eyes, but ultimately speaking to everyone, “someday, that is.”
Instantly, a huge wave of relief flooded through the room, and when Yuji squeezed her shoulder and said, “I’m very happy for both of you,” everyone, for once, agreed.
Yuji called for a song. He’d seen the way Suguru’s eyes traveled to the baby grand from the moment they’d stepped foot in the den, and he could read the desire there, despite the way Suguru groaned when he made the suggestion.
“I’ll do it if Shuichi will,” Suguru said, because he couldn’t seem too eager.
“I’ll do it if Hiro will,” Shuichi stalled, unsure if he was in the right mood for singing.
“I don’t know if I’m feeling up to it,” Hiro admitted, already beginning to feel the arrival of his inescapable headache. But then his eyes fell upon little Souta, and he realized that his youngest son had never seen, or even heard, Bad Luck perform. His chest tightened and he knew, hangover or not, he didn’t really have a choice. “All right, I’ll do it.”
Suguru spent a few minutes familiarizing himself with the piano and its keys, while Hiro retrieved the guitar and a chair for himself. Shuichi let them choose the song-he remembered them all by heart-and they settled on one from the first Christmas album they released in America. They started slowly, softly, getting used to one another once more.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
With kids jingle-belling and everyone telling you
Be of good cheer
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
Taichi glanced over at his little brother and saw him watching, transfixed and awestruck, and smiled. He’d spent his life picturing Father the Rocker as an individual completely separate from Father the Doctor. There were things he’d felt he could allow one, but not the other, and since Father the Rocker was a person from the past, and when Father the Doctor did things he felt doctors shouldn’t-going out and getting drunk, for example-it upset him. But now, just at that moment, he realized what a silly thing that had been to do. He was simply Father, after all. He hoped that Souta would come to know that, too, though something told him that perhaps he already did.
It’s the ha-happiest season of all
With holiday greetings and gay happy meetings
When friends come to call
It’s the ha-happiest season of all
Ayaka had been sitting stock-still in her seat, hands clasped demurely in her lap, but as Shuichi sang and Hiro and Suguru played, and her mind swam with memories, she felt herself relaxing. During Eiri and Hiro’s absence, she’d spent the day wishing they hadn’t come to visit. Back home, they’d been happy and perfect. Everything was routine. Everything was uniform. Everything was unspoken. And maybe keeping things bottled away damaged a person inside, at least there was no fighting, no tension, no guilt and shame and coldness. But she saw the way Hiro played, fingers treating the guitar strings like long-lost friends. And she saw her children, growing and developing and becoming individuals right before her eyes. And she reconsidered, thought that maybe, just maybe, this trip was exactly what they all needed.
There’ll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow
There’ll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories
Of Christmases long, long ago
Eiri hated the way Shuichi’s voice called for complete and utter attention. There were so many things he wanted to focus on instead. He wanted to be busy hating everyone, except Hiro, who made a decent drinking buddy and was therefore excused. Well, and Riku, because he’d wised up. He wanted to think about what he was going to do after the divorce, the possibility of moving somewhere else, the possibility of starting over, the possibility of not getting a divorce. Actually, he didn’t really want to think to hard about that last one. He wanted to wonder about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t married Shuichi, hadn’t adopted Riku. Would he be like this, still, miserable? Or would he be happier? Would he still be in Japan? Would he be dead? In short, he wanted to do anything but listen to Shuichi sing. Unfortunately for him, that was all he could do.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
There’ll be much mistletoe-ing and hearts will be glowing
When loved ones are near
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
Hanako rested her head on Riku’s shoulder and smiled when he pulled her close. They felt content and sure that they were doing the right thing. They felt they’d been bound to each other as children, as if they’d always known they’d be together; as if Riku had known, from the moment he’d laid his hand on Ayaka’s swollen belly, that his future wife had been inside. They’d waited this long, they could wait a little while longer. And until then, they would smile. They would smile and touch and laugh and they would enjoy each other.
There’ll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow
There’ll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories
Of Christmases long, long ago
There was something wonderful about being together again. Suguru enjoyed playing alone, but it could never come close to the thrill of having his talent matched by Hiro’s talent and Shuichi’s talent. And Hiro saw the benefits of being doctor-not only financial, but also the great service he was doing for his community-but it was nothing like making music, making beautiful sound come alive. And Shuichi knew that the guitarists and keyboardists and drummers and all the other musicians he had accompany him were the best in California, but in his book, they would never beat the chemistry he had with his two best friends. They felt electric. They felt refreshed and reborn. They felt young. So they savored this moment of performing, and even though it was the smallest audience they’d ever had, it was definitely the one that meant the most.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
There’ll be much mistletoe-ing and hearts will be glowing
When loved ones are near
It’s the most wonderful time
And the ha-happiest time
It’s the most wonderful time
Of the year
Yuji knew a song was a good idea.
Encouraged by the lightened atmosphere the song produced, Yuji decided to keep with the holiday spirit and suggested that everyone open a present, since it was-technically-Christmas. The younger ones didn’t need to be told more than once; they were still of that age. The others hung back, watching, too self-conscious and too wary of setting off another fight. But Yuji, Patron of Fine Holiday Fun, would have none of that and insisted.
“Eiri, you’ve been so silent all this time; here, open your gift from Shuichi. If it’s naughty, I promise I won’t look, all right? And Ayaka, dear one, you’ve been quiet, too-here, this is from that brother of mine. If it isn’t something as fabulous as you are, I’ll smack him for you, how’s that?”
And he took Suguru’s hand and tugged him over to the tree and the children, allowing them the privacy he knew couples sometimes needed.
Shuichi made a point to look at anyone and anything but Eiri as his husband opened his present. The novelist did so slowly, perhaps dreading it, perhaps stalling, or perhaps not caring one way or the other. He forced himself to look, though, when he saw in the corner of his eye the flash of the thin strips of paper in Eiri’s hand; he knew he would have to offer some sort of explanation. When golden eyes met his they were confused, disbelieving, and maybe even a bit hopeful. Shuichi steadied himself with a deep breath before going to stand beside the writer, and then dropping down into a crouching position, as if foreseeing a possible rush of emotion that could weaken his knees.
“They’re our ticket stubs,” he explained tentatively, “from our first date at Odaiba. I’ve been trying to get them for a couple of years, but it required a lot of digging around and… Well, anyway, nothing came up for a while, and then they were found a few weeks ago. I wasn’t sure if-how things would be by the time they got here, but I decided to get them anyway since-” His words got caught in his throat and his eyes studied the floor as he finished, “They hold such a good memory. For me, anyway.”
“Me too.”
Stunned, Shuichi looked up at his husband. His eyes were on the tickets, early emotions gone, leaving behind a soft blaze of something the singer very rarely saw.
“Thank you,” Eiri said, and he truly meant it; all Shuichi could do in response was nod, silent, too overcome, too relieved, to speak.
Hiro was watching the exchange between his best friend and the writer, so Ayaka took advantage of this distraction and opened the gift Yuji had so insistently pressed into her hands. It was a silver bracelet, diamond accented, a message engraved on it in a beautifully intricate manner; the writing was small, for the message was not short, and the words looped back on each other occasionally, and the effect was dazzling.
“It’s said: Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. I hope I make you as happy as you make me.”
Ayaka’s heart clenched and she felt tears welling up in her eyes and before she could stop them, they came spilling down over her cheeks. When Hiro looked back, the bracelet was lying on the seat of her chair, and she had left the room. He found her sitting on the stairs, head bowed and practically touching her knees, hair covering her face like a curtain. Holding the bracelet in his hand, Hiro approached her. She shied away from him, so he kneeled on the step before her. He said nothing, just waited, patient, until she lifted her head and looked at him, tears still trickling down her face.
“You make me so happy, Hiro,” she managed presently, thickly, her voice cracking. “Really, you do.”
He reached out and took her hand, slid the bracelet tenderly around her wrist, and clasped it in place. He brought her hand to his chest and her fingers curled urgently into the fabric of his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for spending so much time fixing other people, fixing everything-except the one thing that really needed to be fixed.”
“No,” she protested, weakened by lingering sniffles. “No, nothing ever needed fixing. Nothing was ever broken. I know I made the right choice in marrying you. I suppose I just need, well, to be reminded every now and then.”
He smiled kindly and lifted her hand to his lips. He kissed it and whispered, “I think I can handle that.”
A glad, grateful sob escaped her and she flung herself forward, almost knocking them down the stairs. He laughed lightly and held her to him, burying his face in her soft, silky hair.
“So, I take it you two are all right?”
Hiro looked up to see Shuichi leaning against the den’s doorframe, watching them with a bit of a grin. Hiro nodded as he rubbed Ayaka’s back soothingly, and Shuichi tried very hard not to be too envious. He turned to watch as the young ones finished unwrapping their presents, faces alight, the epitome of Christmas cheer. He felt comforted that they could still enjoy the holiday, and thought with wistful fondness of the days when he used to feel such unconditional happiness. He wondered if such feeling always stopped with age, or if it was just him, the result of a stroke of rotten luck. Perhaps he was born under a bad star. Whatever the case, he had to wonder if those feelings would ever return, if they could.
“I think we need a trash bag,” Yuji was observing, looking around at all the wrapping and bows and paper and plastic that had accumulated around them. “Where do you keep them?”
“I’ll get one,” Eiri said, rising from his chair, not even looking for an excuse to leave, but just simply wanting to.
As he neared the arch of the doorframe, his eyes met Shuichi’s and he paused when he got close, waiting silently for Shuichi to step aside and let him through. But before either could move, Yuji spotted them and said, “Aw, guys, how cute. You’re standing under mistletoe!”
And they looked up, marveling at their fate, and stood very still, frightened and unsure of one another. Haltingly, Eiri took a step forward, and Shuichi gasped, his shoulders going tense. Eiri had had every intention of simply brushing past the singer and ignoring tradition as usual, so while Shuichi’s response may have discouraged whatever flame of hope that might have been simmering somewhere near his heart, it strengthened his resolve to merely follow through on his original course of action.
But then Shuichi’s fingers touched his.
An electric shock went through them, stimulating every nerve in their bodies. They moved as though walking through molasses, fingers twining loosely, one head leaning down, the other tilting up. They didn’t know how, but they could feel each other’s pulses racing, as if they had never done this. And they both just knew that the other was going to stop, to pull away, and they felt that when that happened they would die, just crumble to the floor and die, a miserable being-but no one was stopping, no one was pulling away, and they were very much alive when their lips slowly, softly-finally-touched.
The reaction was inevitable and instantaneous.
Their fingers wrenched apart while their lips pressed firm. Shuichi threw his arms around Eiri’s neck, and Eiri pulled him close around the waist, and they clung to each other for dear, sweet life, and they kissed and kissed and kissed.
EPILOGUE-
The Nakano family was flying back to Japan in three hours and Hanako had not yet started packing. She sat in the guest room, staring at her empty luggage and biting nervously at her fingernails. With a sigh, she stood, gathered her courage, and went across the hall where her parents were zipping up their matching suitcases.
“Mother, Father, may I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Ayaka said, and she and Hiro gave her their full attention.
“Could I fly back at a later time? Possibly?”
It took them a moment to process her question, and when they did, they looked at her in surprise.
“You mean,” Hiro said, making sure, “separate from the rest of us?”
“Well, yes. I’d only stay for New Year’s, and when Riku went back to school, I’d go straight back home. I promise to behave myself, and I won’t lose my ticket or passport or-” She stopped, unsure of what else to promise.
Hiro and Ayaka exchanged glances and then eyed their daughter-eighteen years old, beautiful, responsible, and thinking for herself as opposed to living as part of a set. How could they refuse?
As Hanako cheered and raced down the stairs to tell Riku, Hiro took his wife’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together.
“She’s growing up wonderfully, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” she agreed, smiling, moving to kiss his cheek. “They all are.”
Yuji closed the trunk of the purple car after stuffing it with the last of his and Suguru’s bags, grinning at the sounds of glee and delight as Taichi and Souta took turns making the passenger seat fall back. Suguru watched them in bemusement and Yuji, nudging him, jokingly said, “Just think of the glorious day when we have little ones of our own.”
“Say that again and you die,” came the equally playful reply.
Yuji chuckled. Lowering his voice, he leaned close to speak into the other man’s ear.
“Love you, too.”
Suguru blushed and turned his head, covering it up with a cough. Yuji smirked and turned back to his hosts, who had come out to said goodbye. He shook Eiri’s hand and pulled Shuichi into a friendly hug. He heard Shuichi speak against his shoulder, thanking him softly, and Yuji squeezed him tight.
“So,” he winked as he released the singer. “Same time next year?”
Shuichi looked at Eiri, and Eiri looked back, and the corners of their mouths quirked upward as they laughed, good-naturedly, and said in happy, perfect unison, “Are you kidding? Never again!”