where hope is currency and death is not the last unknown

[hismelody]

For years now, Christmas has felt like a time that's theirs. S had plenty of Christmases before the first one they spent in that tiny, cramped studio, but that was the one that changed everything, the two of them confessing their feelings just two short weeks before, the holiday spent still in the beautiful haze of that. It wasn't all good, of course. His first Christmas without his parents was always going to be a difficult one; he still finds that the holiday season makes him a bit wistful, a bit melancholy. It turned a time he was dreading, though — the worst time in his life, or what seemed like it then — into the happiest, too, and that's not something he could ever lose sight of.

Last year, it made him miserable. On his own, reminded of J at every turn, left to stare at the piano where they shared their first kiss (and many, many more after), Christmas became a dismal time, all the happiness and cheer only emphasizing his own lack of it. For the first time, he was alone, and it was awful. That in itself would make this year significant even if it weren't for everything else that happened in between. Their first Christmas back together is a big deal. But it's also J's first Christmas alive again, and that makes it even more of one. So does knowing how unhappy J must have been last year, too. S can't make up for that, and he certainly can't change it, but he can try to make this Christmas as good as possible, to give them some new, better memories to hold onto.

Of course, he would want to anyway. They were good at that, he thinks, in those first years together, making Christmas special even when they had next to nothing. It's not presents that make Christmas, not by a long shot, but being somewhat better off this year, he wants to make the most of that, too. That's just easier said than done when J's birthday and their anniversary come in such quick succession leading up to Christmas, and even more so given some of the ways things have changed. Although J has now played the piano again, music or anything pertaining to it still doesn't seem like the best gift, and it isn't as if they have a piano here anyway.

He's excited and nervous about what he's settled on instead, but mostly, he's just excited to be together for Christmas again, now in their less cramped apartment, him still without his parents and J now without his mother but the two of them here to see each other through it. Maybe it's because that's what's been predominantly on his mind that S is, when he wakes up, incredibly aware of the fact that he's in bed alone. He doesn't panic the way he might have months ago, but it's still unusual. Typically, J is beside him, curled warm and close. Slightly disappointing as it might be, though, S knows he has to be close, and in fact can just about make out distant noise from across the apartment. Still a little groggy from sleep, he pulls himself out of bed, and first takes advantage of the opportunity to get J's gifts out from where he stashed them so he can bring them out to the tree, wandering into the kitchen a moment later, a sleepy little smile on his face.

"You're up early," he says, coming up behind J and wrapping his arms around his waist as he presses a kiss to his shoulder. "What are you up to?"

Comments

[hismelody]

It's been a long time since he got to feel young. S knows the same is true for both of them, if, as with so much else, in slightly different ways. The fact of that makes him no less painfully aware of it, though. His childhood was cut short when his parents died, with all he had to do to stay afloat after. He was lucky to have had the upbringing he did before that, but even so, he lost that part of himself along with them. Granted, he wasn't exactly doing much playing with stuffed animals at that point, but holding the little cat now, and with J clasping his arm like this, he still sort of feels like a kid, in the best way possible.

"He will," S agrees, still grinning, as he turns from J back to the cat again, one finger of his free hand tapping its tiny sewn nose. "Let's see, are you a Frederic, maybe? Or more of a Claude?" Teasingly serious, he furrows his brow, lifting the cat up for J to see. If he's meant to be a friend for Franz, then clearly, he thinks, they need to stick with the same naming convention, and Chopin and Debussy seem like safe choices — two of his favorites, without any particular baggage between him and J. "What do you think?"

[beklemmt]

J can't help it, his smile brighter and warmer, his heart full, as he watches S tap the toy on its nose. He's so lovely, so naturally adorable, and J is, as he often is, utterly taken with him. Whatever doubt he had a few moments ago fades away, replaced by the pleasure of seeing S enjoy his choice, watching him play along.

He tips his head to the side, considering these options, both of which he finds equally cute, and taps his own nose in turn, playing up his thoughtfulness. "Franz and Frederic," he tries out. "Franz and Claude... Ah, I think Frederic. The names go well together, don't you think? Ah, Franz will be happy to have a friend." He leans his head against S's shoulder, quietly content. It's not a Christmas he would have ever imagined for them when they were young. So many terrible things happened he could never have conjured up, and so many wonderful things have happened he wouldn't have dared dream of having. Stretching up just a bit, he kisses S's jaw and settles back again.

[hismelody]

Objectively speaking, it's probably silly to be discussing a name for a stuffed animal with this degree of seriousness. It's nice to be silly, though, and if they decide it matters to them, then there's no reason why it shouldn't. That day on the boardwalk, when he first won Franz for J, was much the same. A bundle of fabric and stuffing can't have an opinion on a name, or make a friend, or be frightened on a ride, but it does no harm to pretend it can. Just as J seemed so fond of the little bear, so is S about the cat he just unwrapped, pleased to have gotten a gift that's all sentiment and no practicality, and one that's so cute, too.

"Frederic, then," he agrees with a decisive nod, smiling over at J before he looks back to the cat again for a moment. "I like it. And I think he'll like Franz, too." Leaning his head gently against J's, he sets Frederic in his lap, his free hand still resting over the soft material. "Really, this is so sweet. I love him." He smiles, still so utterly fond. "I love you. Merry Christmas."

[beklemmt]

When he was very young, J wanted to do such things for S. As a child, he wished he could give S some toy to play with that he'd like, but J could never afford that. When they were older, when he had some money of his own from the jobs he worked, when he could give S gifts, he had to be more practical about it. It feels good to have bought something frivolous and not feel panicked about whether he should have really done it. It's good to get frivolous things, for that matter. While he always takes creation seriously to some extent and while the camera means an awful lot, it's not as if it's particularly practical. J loves it for that, too. He doesn't have to do something useful with it. And by making S smile like this, little Frederic has already served his purpose.

Smiling, he leans close, nose brushing S's cheek, lips following. "Merry Christmas," he murmurs. "I'm so glad you like him. All of it. I love you so much." He would have done more if he could, but he knows S knows that. It's never been about the quantity or the price. They couldn't afford that. What counts is this, making each other happy. That's what a good gift really is, a way of saying I was thinking about how to make you happy, and this year, J feels like he's succeeded again. It warms him through, his arms hugging one of S's to him. "This really is the nicest Christmas I've had... maybe ever."

[hismelody]

Just hearing that, S feels warm all over, a sensation only heightened by the way J clings to his arm. Maybe it's excessive when they're just sitting here on the floor, surrounded by discarded wrapping paper and the presents they got each other, but he's never going to complain about this sort of closeness. It's that, after all, more than any material goods that makes this holiday so special. Last Christmas, he was alone and miserable. The lack of presents, he couldn't have cared less about. It was the lack of company that hurt, an even hollower, emptier ache than that first year after he lost his parents. At least back then, he had J.

He does now, and he doesn't intend to take that for granted for a second. It is, perhaps, for the same reason that he's so touched hearing that, his cheeks the slightest bit pink. "Really?" he asks, hopeful and pleased and a little shy. "It has to be up there for me. With the first one we spent as a couple." He'll always have a special place in his heart for the Christmases he spent with his parents when he was young, of course. It isn't a comparison he could make; this one isn't better than those, but those weren't better than this one, either. They're just good in different ways, a part of his past that he cherishes and a future he's so fucking lucky to have.

[beklemmt]

He's beautiful, J thinks, so breathtakingly beautiful in his earnest happiness and hope. J nods as an answer, touched in turn. It makes sense, he knows, that this year would be a particularly special one for them both. Even so, it moves him, heart warm and full as he leans closer, lifting a hand to cup S's cheek and pull him gently into a kiss.

That year was a hard one. There were times J felt horribly guilty for being so happy, knowing that his happiness rested on S having lost the most important people in his life. But it was a good one, too, and that Christmas was so special. So close on the heels of their getting together, it felt like a fresh start, the beginning of their own tiny family. This year, too, is a new beginning, a chance to get things right that he fucked up so thoroughly before. Like this, though, his other arm slipping around S's waist, he feels like he's getting things right.

"Really," he murmurs against S's mouth. "This is wonderful. You're wonderful."