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“I’m not sure I understand, Kazuichi…”
Kazuichi has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as Nagito breathes out a wispy laugh, his fingers tangling in his green coat as he maintains long, vaguely uncomfortable eye contact with him. It’s making Kazuichi antsy as well, and he has to consciously stop himself from wringing his own hands nervously.
“What’s not to understand?” he challenges, his annoyance shining through more than he means to, before pulling himself back and offering Nagito what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I mean — it’s simple, right? I’ll be the first to say I don’t really get how your luck works, but I’ve seen it in action, so I know that it exists.”
Nagito smiles, face going red, for some reason. He doesn’t break eye contact. “No, I understand that you want to utilize my, ah, my talent during the Secret Santa drawing. But I don’t…”
He trails off. Kazuichi blows a wisp of hair out of his own face. “I mean, you can…will things to happen, right? That’s how, during your trial…”
It’s a misstep and both of them know it; Kazuichi can see the way Nagito’s prosthetic fingers tense up from where they rest bunched up in his coat, the way his frame takes on a gentle tremor. Can feel it in the way his own heart begins to beat a little faster, feels his face go red in shame.
Perhaps bringing up the horror fest that traumatized Kazuichi and all of his friends isn’t the best way to ask for a favor.
“W-What I mean is,” Kazuichi continues after a too-long pause, running a hand through his suddenly-sweaty hair, “you can, uh, rely on your luck to get Sonia for the Secret Santa?”
“…In theory,” Nagito responds after a long moment, tension releasing from his body as he for the first time drops eye contact. “But my luck is not always…I can’t promise anything.”
Kazuichi sighs. “All I can ask for is the best you can do. So will you try to draw Sonia? Then trade with me?”
Nagito drops his gaze to his lap, picking anxiously at his fingers. Kazuichi drums his own against his leg, trying to hide how antsy he is.
Finally: “I will do my best.”
Kazuichi smiles, clapping a hand gently against Nagito’s shoulder. They both pointedly ignore the way he flinches.
“Thanks, man.” He stands, readying to leave Nagito’s cabin before anyone can figure out he’s here. It’s not a shame thing, but… “And, hey, for what it’s worth — I’m hopin’ I pick Hajime, so you get somethin’ out of the deal, too.”
Nagito smiles at that, eyes not moving from his lap. “Thank you, Kazuichi. I suppose I’ll see you in a little while.”
“Sure.” He wastes no further energy in Nagito’s cabin, slipping out the door and shutting it with a dull click before traversing down the path to his own.
It’s a short walk, only hastened by the nervous energy thrumming through his system, and when he throws the door shut behind him he doesn’t realize it slams much louder than necessary until he flinches against the sound of the wood smashing against the doorframe.
With the most arduous task of the whole Secret Santa affair out of the way Kazuichi approaches his desk and scrambles around in one of the drawers, hands searching for the present he’s already made in anticipation of the event. Humming to himself when he finally retrieves the packet he shuts the drawer much more gently than he had the door, takes a brief glance around his cabin, and falls without preamble back onto his bed.
The creases at the folds on the envelope are paled and noticeably wrinkled from countless fidgeting and opening over the past few days, and with a nervous bite to his lip he finds the carefully-made paper slips inside the envelope showing the beginnings of over-handling, gentle creases in the shapes of fingerprints leaving odd-looking dips in the slips.
Worry over destroying his gift mounting, he gently lets them fall fully back into the packet, shuts it, and leaves it to rest next to him on the bed.
Kazuichi had thought the whole concept of a Secret Santa was absurd and, frankly, a pointless endeavor for about fifteen seconds after Ibuki and Akane had voiced the idea over breakfast. He’d been more than ready to join Fuyuhiko in his annoyed muttering under his breath, but before he’d been able to get a complaint out edgewise Sonia, true to form, had bounced to her feet with her eyes practically glittering out of her head and waxed poetic about the joys of holiday festivities.
Two and Hajime — who everyone has looked to as their de facto leaders, something about having a deciding pair of voices calming, after everything — with varying levels of enthusiasm, had said something or other about a mutual gift-giving being good for building morale and finding happiness or whatever, and that had been that. Kazuichi had been sold as soon as Sonia had opened her mouth.
That initial conversation had been three days out from where Kazuichi now sits on his bed, coupled only with an agreement that name drawing would take place this evening, and there would be a twenty-four hour period to procure gifts after the drawing. Kazuichi, with all the antsy energy he’d been more or less plagued with since waking up and having his entire life condensed to a coupling of islands with people sharing the same sins he did, had spent the better portion of that first day after breakfast putting his gift concept into action.
Actually managing to draw Sonia as his gift recipient had been an afterthought as he tore through his plan, too consumed by the compulsion to make something, and make it well and truly right, for him to care about particulars such as random chance. In the following morning’s early hours, though, his eyes red from exhaustion and surrounded by the crumpled failures of shaky handwriting and accidental misspellings, reading over the day’s handiwork, he’d had a frightening thought:
His gift, his coupons written in glittery pen he knows Sonia likes with promises like the holder of this coupon is entitled to one free hug, one free date, one free kiss, are only a worthwhile gift if he can ensure that Sonia is the intended recipient.
He’d spent a good day angsting over that to anyone who would listen; predictably, this list of people was short, most everyone whose ears he could talk off preoccupied with various things like gardening or cooking or coping with the intense mental exhaustion that accompanies the trauma the lot of them faced, like the bunch of assholes they are.
Kazuichi had managed to grab an audience with two of his friends, neither of whom were much help, either practically or emotionally.
He’d followed Hajime around following the previous day’s breakfast, switching between lamenting his woes about his low odds of pulling Sonia and griping as Hajime used him for manual labor in putting up the scant holiday decorations they’d been able to dig up from around the islands, the conniving asshole. He hadn’t expected Hajime to hold any winning wisdom nor any real sympathy — whenever Kazuichi fished for it, his friend’s red eye seemed to pulse at him, and the thought of the other guy judging him always managed to clam him up — but Hajime usually humored him so long as he didn’t get too weepy, which worked just fine for him.
But then Hiyoko had wandered across the two of them, screeching about the lack of holiday sweets loud enough that Kazuichi feared the dusty ornaments he was sifting through would shatter in his hands if he didn’t high tail it the hell out of there. He’d left with a “see ya, dude” hanging out of his mouth, resisting the urge to snicker at the middle finger Hajime had given him in response.
He’d ended up in Fuyuhiko’s cabin at some point after that, whining much more readily than he had with Hajime; half because the desperation of the situation really was getting to him after laying bare the drawing-Sonia-thing, and half because he couldn’t deprive himself of the subtle pleasure of watching Fuyuhiko go redder and redder as he fought the urge to tell him to get away from him in the most vulgar way possible.
It was the simple things, really.
Eventually, though, somewhere between his fourth rehashing of his half-formed plan to just say he picked Sonia regardless and let whoever actually drew her handle the fallout and Fuyuhiko calling him a sickeningly infatuated royal fucking lapdog, Peko had walked in, and Kazuichi was never good at defending himself against the both of them hurling half-fond, half-annoyed insults in his direction. He’d retreated to his own cabin and spent the rest of the day fantasizing about Sonia cashing in the various coupons he’d crafted, which led him to where he was now.
Nagito was likely his best bet in getting Sonia in the drawing; he didn’t need to know the particulars of his luck to know that he had it, and further, that he’d agreed to help. He’d trade whoever he got for Nagito’s slip of paper reading Sonia, hopefully not sticking his friend with anybody too high difficulty in terms of gift-picking, and that would be that.
Quickly growing bored with ruminating Kazuichi glances out the window, finds the sun much lower in the sky than he expects, and jumps to his feet, cursing. Taking a few moments to pluck the envelope up off his bed and drop it onto his desk he rushes through the door of his cabin, hoping he’s not the last to the drawing as he races towards the restaurant.
He’s not, but it’s close; only Teruteru and Gundham are missing. By the faint sound of bustling coming from the kitchen he assumes the former is preparing to bring out their dinner, and the latter, well…who knows with that guy.
Kazuichi drops himself into one of the remaining empty chairs, ending up next to Mikan, who offers him a gentle smile before turning back to her conversation with Nekomaru. He props an elbow on the table and drops his chin into his palm, glancing idly around the table before his eyes inevitably — because of course they do — land on Sonia, chatting away with Two as she writes neatly onto a tiny slip of paper.
She’s dressed for the festive occasion; there’s an oversized Santa hat pulled over her ears despite the relative heat inside of the restaurant, matching the one on the table spilling over with papers. There’s a short strand of tinsel draped over her shoulders — with a grimace he tries to hide, Kazuichi can’t help but think about how itchy it must be — and she’s wearing earrings with little bells on them that make soft, elegant noises whenever she so much as inclines her head, and the whole of her appearance has Kazuichi biting a smile into his fist.
Sonia drops the piece of paper into the hat as she catches his gaze. She grins, the whites of her teeth bright under the light of the restaurant, her earrings ding-ing with the movement, and for the first time since the holiday season on the island started he feels something akin to festive cheer.
“Hello, Kazuichi!” Sonia twirls her pen idly between her fingers, eyes momentarily sliding over to something behind Kazuichi’s shoulder. “Oh, hello to you, too, Gundham!”
“Sonia,” Gundham greets lowly from just next to him, and Kazuichi instinctively tenses as he settles into the empty chair on his other side. Though he turns to look at him over his shoulder, Gundham’s gaze remains on Sonia. “Everyone.”
Sonia has already turned back to her conversation with Two before Gundham slides his gaze over to him. Kazuichi resists the urge to roll his eyes, or sneer, or something equally as uncouth, but only just.
“Kazuichi.” Gundham inclines his head gently, eyes remaining fixed on him as he says his name. Kazuichi still can’t shake the odd feeling he gets whenever Gundham says his name, all these months later.
“Hey.”
They don’t speak much, even less than they did during the Killing Game. Not that much of the bickering they — I did, Kazuichi thinks irritably — did was civil enough to be considered speaking, but. The first few months, after everyone had woken up and begun the process of coping with the trauma of the real and virtual world, there had been an unshakable anger in Kazuichi’s gut that manifested whenever he was even in the same room as the guy, let alone actually speaking to him. Fury at him for leaving Sonia alone during the game, resentment at the reason he’d been executed in the first place, frustration at not being able to be mad about the reasons behind all that he’d done; something to that degree. Nothing healthy or beneficial to his own “mental healing” or whatever crap Mikan — friggin’ Mikan, of all people — peddled to the lot of them.
He’d confronted Gundham something like four months into their new, changed lives, figuring that was a decent enough time frame for him to get some headway on the whole mental healing thing, enough of a cushion that he could treat him like a real person again and not a perpetual, walking shadow of trauma, just like everyone else. Enough time that Kazuichi could yell at him about something other than trivial shit, like walking into the restaurant smelling like the farm or something equally as stupid.
Gundham had been holed up at the farm like he had been for every other damn day those four months, something that Kazuichi attributed to their dear leader’s twin pushes that the lot of them develop a hobby, something to look forward to getting up to do each day. Something to be good, fun, theirs.
Sonia had taken up painting. Nagito learned to knit. Hajime took up writing. And Gundham kicked around in the goddamn flower beds all day.
Kazuichi has yet to find his hobby.
He’d found Gundham at the farm, sprinkling water on a patch of strawberries from a rusted watering can, same place he always was. He’d torn into him, laying bare all of his grievances with him, face red and hands shaking and stomach heaving as all of the bullshit Gundham had made him feel ever since he’d met the bastard spilled out of his mouth.
Gundham had just watched, expression blank, until Sonia’s name had torn out of Kazuichi’s throat, along with an accusation that had made his heart stutter just to voice.
And you and Sonia are just so in love with each other, you always have been, and you just left her there, and for what?
Something about Gundham that had never failed to piss Kazuichi off was the expressions he managed to pinch his face into. Always spouting some supernatural garbage, always widening his eyes in indignation and curling his lip to laugh and wrinkling his nose to sneer and just every single exaggeration that he manipulated his face into in order to fit the magical bullshit he was always going on about.
But at that moment, with water spilling from the can in his slack hands and drowning the strawberries, dressed in dirtied overalls and staring at Kazuichi with a look that to this day he still can’t decipher, for once, he hadn’t seemed larger than life.
He’d seemed human, for once, and the neutral line of his mouth, the silent searching look in his eyes, had given him pause.
You think I am in love with Sonia?
It should have been a hiss. A sneer. Maybe even a laugh. But Gundham’s voice had been quiet, reserved, and something distinctly other that, like his expression, Kazuichi had not been able to fully peel apart.
Obviously. I see how you look at her, you know.
Gundham had looked at the ruined plants then, chest shrinking minutely with a sigh.
And here I thought, this was… He’d shaken his head, not meeting Kazuichi’s eyes. You are not as observant as I thought, then.
That had sent Kazuichi off on a whole new tangent, something about Gundham and his incessant need to be an asshole all of the time. He’d smiled at the beration, oddly, and soon the contemplative smile he’d seen on Gundham a handful of times was back, his face an odd shade of red.
For your peace of mind, Kazuichi, I will tell you this: I am not in love with Sonia. All she will ever be to me is a friend. I apologize for not clearing the air regarding this topic sooner.
And that had been that — mostly. Kazuichi had been apprehensive, half convinced that the confession was just another taunt in order to chalk in another point for himself, but…for once in his life Gundham had seemed down to earth, and truly like a person, and Kazuichi had accepted the fact with a sharp comment about how Gundham better be the best damn friend Sonia had ever had.
Ibuki claps her hands from her place at the middle of the long table, calling Kazuichi’s attention from the memory.
…Yeah, they don’t talk.
“Sonia-chan has finished writing everyone’s names, so now it’s Secret Santa time!” Ibuki titters from her seat, swiping the Santa hat from Sonia’s outreached hand with a wink. She closes her fist around the opening of the hat and shakes it violently, nearly taking out Teruteru’s eye has he scurries past her with his hands full of food.
“Yes, yes, hurry and get this drawing done so we can all tuck in an’ eat already!”
“Seconded!” Akane yells from across the table, clapping Teruteru roughly on the back as he takes his own seat.
“Who first, who first…” Ibuki bounces up from her seat, dancing around the table before stopping in front of Hajime, the hat held open above his head. Reaching a hand in blindly, he picks a slip of paper, not looking at it as Ibuki continues onto the next person.
“Remember, no sharing who you picked until after they open your gift,” Two says pointedly as Hiyoko attempts to rip Mahiru’s paper from her hands.
“I wanna see who she got!” Hiyoko argues, because of course she does, eyes not moving from Mahiru’s paper as she makes another grab for it. “No one’s gonna be able to get me a better gift than Mahiru, so I wanna see if she got me, or if I’m gonna have to suffer through one of you guys’ terrible presents!”
“Of course she can make somethin’ as charitable as a Secret Santa gift into a fuckin’ fight,” Fuyuhiko grumbles, rolling his eyes as he takes a paper from the hat.
“Don’t be such a Grinch, Fuyuhiko,” Mahiru chastises, rolling her eyes as she stuffs her slip into her pocket.
“Green really isn’t your color,” Peko adds lightly, fighting a smile as Fuyuhiko’s expression goes through all five stages of grief.
“Traitor. You’re all traitors,” he says irritably, tucking quickly into his dinner. “I’m getting you all shit for Christmas.”
Ibuki rounds around to Kazuichi’s side of the table, dangling the hat above Nagito’s head. Kazuichi fights the urge to bite his nails.
“If you get one of them as your Secret Santa, does that mean they get two shits for Christmas?” Nekomaru asks, reaching over to grab his own slip before Nagito’s fully pulled his hand back. The whole table bursts into laughter as Ibuki floats the hat over to Mikan.
“Whoever gets Fuyuhiko should try an’ find somethin’ to do with the Grinch for his gift,” Akane says around a mouthful of food, earning another laugh and another indignant hiss from Fuyuhiko.
“Anyone pulls any shit like that, and I’m stuffing coal down their throat.”
Ibuki spins to hold the hat over Kazuichi’s head, and with shaking fingers he reaches into it, digging around for a moment in the three remaining slips of paper. Belatedly, he realizes he’d probably have been better off drawing first, but figuring Nagito’s already pulled Sonia’s name, he hopes it doesn’t matter.
His fingers close around a paper and he pulls, cradling it to his chest protectively as he turns to watch Gundham pick his own.
He does, pushing it into his pocket without even glancing at it.
As Ibuki pulls the final slip of paper and slips the hat onto her head people begin eating in earnest, the conversation light as people dance around the topic of the Secret Santa and vaguely speak in terms of what they’re going to get their person. Kazuichi eats quickly, hoping the eyes he makes in Nagito’s direction aren’t too obvious as he fights the urge to look at who he’ll be handing off to his friend.
A half hour or so later finds Kazuichi resisting the urge to pace around below the restaurant, eyes flickering to the stairs whenever someone went to leave. He’s bid most everyone goodnight, dodging questions about who he’s waiting for, when Nagito finally begins down the stairs, not meeting Kazuichi’s eyes once he sees him waiting.
Though his sudden apprehension has Kazuichi half sure he knows the answer anyways, he still approaches Nagito as he steps off the final stair. “Did it work?”
“I’m afraid not,” Nagito whispers, looking downright miserable, more so than Kazuichi expects. “I tried, I really did, I’m so sorry—”
“Hey, hey,” Kazuichi interrupts, taking Nagito by the shoulder and leading him away from the stairs, suffocating a sigh before it can fall out of his mouth. “It’s fine, dude. No hard feelings. Who did you get, if I can ask?”
“…Hajime.”
“Hey, good for you!” Kazuichi grins up at him, resisting the urge to tease Nagito for the flush that falls over his face. “That’s good luck for you, anyways, so I guess I can’t complain about your luck not working.”
Nagito shrugs, his hands dipping into the pockets of his jacket. “Who did you get?”
“Oh, I—” He still hadn’t checked, he realizes with sudden anxiousness, and with a bit too much excitement he pulls the paper from his pocket, unfolding it with careful fingers.
“Aw, crap.” Kazuichi hangs his head with a little more exaggeration than strictly necessary as he turns the paper so Nagito can read the neatly written Gundham scrawled across it. “Man, the hell am I gonna get that guy?”
Nagitp purses his lips, staring curiously down at the slip of paper Kazuichi held in his hand.
“You already have a gift made, don’t you? You hinted at it when we spoke earlier.” Kazuichi knows what he’s going to suggest, and preemptively groans in response. “I understand that Gundham isn’t who you made it for, but perhaps you could repurpose it?”
“Nah, I’ll just…” Kazuichi shrugs. “I’ll figure something out. Thanks anyways.”
“I’m sorry again. Goodnight, Kazuichi.”
“Night.”
Kazuichi doesn’t spend much longer lingering below the restaurant, instead heading off back to his cabin with a little more annoyance than he really intends. Stepping into his cabin only renews his attitude towards his current predicament and he sighs, slumping into the chair at his desk and leafing through the coupons once again.
There’s a swell of something distinctly uncomfortable as he goes over his options silently. There aren’t many, and none of them are exactly ideal.
He could be a real asshole and get Gundham something cheap and lame, dug up from any of the abandoned structures on the other islands, and deal with the emotional backlash he’d likely get from the rest of his friends if he did something so awful.
Arguably worse, he could show up empty handed, or just not go at all. That was equally as likely to lose him a few points with the whole group. He could approach Gundham later, on his own, apologize for the situation and hope the guy wouldn’t take too much offense at being the only person not given a gift.
He shakes his head before dropping with a thud against his desk. He’s been trying to work on the whole not being an obnoxious asshole as part of his recovery, and something tells him falling back into his old habits of being an ass purposefully to Gundham wouldn’t go over well with any of them, least of all Sonia.
Because, well. Despite Gundham’s insistence that there was nothing between them, that there wouldn’t be, Kazuichi could tell even despite being not the most observant guy that Sonia had real feelings for him. Maybe not in the love way, as he’d feared — ever since the game had ended, the flirting on her end seemed to have ebbed into something a bit more platonic — but they, despite everything, did have a real bond, one that would make Sonia all the more upset if he did something so crappy like neglect Gundham for the stupid Secret Santa thing.
Kazuichi groans, turning over the coupons in his hands. With a few new ones slipped in and some of the more romantic ones take out, they could probably be a serviceable gift, at the very least could function as a somewhat funny gag gift.
He spends a good portion of the evening struggling over what coupons to include to replace the ones he’d sort of regretfully thrown out, eventually ending up with an even dozen he decides is good enough when his clock tells him it’s nearing midnight.
As Kazuichi wakes the next morning and spends the better part of the day pittering around the main island helping out others with their gifts and marvelling at the headway being made on the festive decorations, he finds himself trying (and failing) to put his initial anxiety at giving Gundham the repurposed gift out of his mind.
Logically, he knows Gundham won’t particularly care. Will either accept it wordlessly or perhaps with a slightly frosty comment, either way with the sort of quiet resignation he’d addressed Kazuichi with since their confrontation at the farm all those months ago. The world will go on whether or not Kazuichi’s Secret Santa gift is bad or not, and that will be that.
Regardless, he finds himself approaching dinner that evening with a shake in his hands; something he can’t attribute to any seasonal chill in the air — damn the tropical climate of the stupid island. He has the envelope pressed carefully into one of the pockets of his jacket, a garment he’d long since traded out his signature jumpsuit for, and as he steps into the restaurant he finds some of his nerves melting away as a warmth unrelated to the omniscient humidity of the island washes over him in the form of soft yellow light and the smell of a good meal.
Just as last night he’s one of the last of the group to arrive, but contrary to their previous dinner, he feels wholly underdressed as he takes in the sight of his friends wrapped in various miscellaneous Christmas decorations.
He doesn’t have to contemplate the idea of going back to his cabin and changing for long; Ibuki bounces over to where he stands still in the doorway, a strand of golden tinsel raised dangerously in the air as she calls his name. Before he can move she has it tossed around his neck, and as he winces at the sudden itchy feeling of it, she procures a spare Santa hat and pulls it unceremoniously over his usual hat.
“Merry Santa-mas!” she cheers, earning a chorus of a similar sentiment as she leads Kazuichi over to the table. “It’s almost time for presents!”
“Already?” he asks, glancing around the table, where most everyone sits with some sort of wrapped gift in their hands or on the table before them. Kazuichi takes the envelope from his pocket and lays it flat in front of him, the side with Gundham’s name on it turned towards the deep red tablecloth.
Hiyoko makes a face from across the table. “No one wants to wait to eat before we start handing them out.”
“Speak for yourself,” Teruteru hums from somewhere to Hiyoko’s left, looking almost reverently at the frankly elegant looking cooked turkey serving as the table’s centerpiece. “My Christmas meal is a gift in and of itself.”
“Christmas isn’t for another three days,” Akane challenges, fork poised in the air despite her plate being empty. “I hope you’re plannin’ on topping this.”
“Of course, of course,” Teruteru replies, unperturbed.
It’s only a few moments later when Sonia and Gundham walk into the restaurant together, exchanging quiet conversation as they make their way to the table. As he did last night Gundham settles into the empty chair next to Kazuichi, while Sonia takes the spot a few seats down next to Two.
Kazuichi fidgets with the flap on the envelope, regret over not doing something else for Gundham’s present leaving a weight in his stomach.
“Everyone’s here, now,” Hajime says from his seat farther up the table, immediately gaining everyone’s attention. “I suppose we’ll get started, then. How do we want to do this?”
“I wanna see what we all got each other!” Ibuki says after a moment’s pause, eyes glittering as she takes in the group of them. “Why don’t we just go around the table? I’ll go first! Nekomaru-chan, here, catch!”
Nekomaru’s laughter booms throughout the room as he unwraps the neon pink leg warmers Ibuki had apparently gifted to him.
The gifting continues down the line; Hajime dumps what looks to be a lifetime supply of gummy candy in front of Hiyoko, who half shrieks down the building as she complains about him cleaning out the supply from the store; Nagito hands Hajime a leaflet of papers that has them both choking back tears as Hajime reads through them; Mahiru gifts Sonia with a large present that ends up being a picture frame filled with pictures of all of them that has her sobbing openly as she pulls Mahiru into a bear hug; and so on down the line until everyone’s eyes fall to Kazuichi, and he feels his mouth go dry.
He picks the envelope up, still keeping the name tag face down, and forces out a laugh. “Uh, my Secret Santa is—” He turns to Gundham, trying to play off an easy grin. His mouth feels too full of teeth, all of a sudden. “Gundham. Merry Christmas, man.”
A few snickers ripple over the table, the awkwardness of the situation not lost on any of them. For his part, Gundham doesn’t react; he takes the envelope from Kazuichi wordlessly, pulling the back open with deft fingers without reading the name written on the front.
He’s silent for several long moments as he glances through the dozen coupons in the envelope, and despite himself Kazuichi feels his face go red. Someone flicks a napkin at him.
“Gundham, what’d he get you?”
Gundham glances up at Fuyuhiko as he asks the question, pulling one of the coupons from the envelope and holding it out for everyone to read.
“The holder of this coupon is entitled to one free helping hand on a project of the holder’s choice,” Gundham reads softly, letting everyone get a good look before tucking it back into the envelope and pushing the whole thing into one of his jacket pockets.
“Is Kazuichi…selling his fuckin’ body?”
The whole table erupts into laughter at that, but it’s lighthearted, and though his face goes red and he has to hide underneath the Santa hat, most everyone seems to accept the gift for what it is, and the attention slides away from him and instead to Gundham.
Kazuichi’s gift seems to be forgotten entirely as Gundham leaves the restaurant for several long moments only to return with a puppy in his arms, handing it gingerly to Peko with a deep blush on his face as he wishes her a Merry Christmas and she begins to get teary eyed.
It’s easily the best gift of the night, though Kazuichi feels more than a little inclined towards his own — Two places a heavy box filled with at least a dozen old smartphones with instruction to have fun picking these apart, but try to make one of them serviceable. After the gifting is over dinner commences, all fifteen of them surging with a light sort of energy that makes it feel, even for a little while, that they’re just a group of young people celebrating Christmas, the same as any other people their age, and not…well.
Kazuichi finds himself warm with contentment (and, perhaps, something a little more chemical that matches the low hum of the drink that Teruteru had broken out halfway through dinner) as he readies himself to leave the restaurant, the box of phones tucked protectively under his arm and a real, beaming smile on his face, his traces of nervousness from before forgotten.
He has half a mind to wait for Sonia to leave so he can perhaps walk her back to her cabin, but she seems altogether caught up in her conversation with Ibuki, and really, he finds the pull that’s usually there when he’s in the same room as her not so insistent, so he decides to leave well enough alone and depart by himself.
He’s just stepping into the temperate air of the island at night when a voice calls his attention, nearly startling him enough that he drops the box. When he turns he finds Gundham standing a ways away from the building’s entrance, shadowed beneath the window where the lights don’t quite reach him.
“You need something?” Kazuichi tries for something casual, but his voice comes out more strained than he plans, and he finds himself fighting a grimace. Gundham regards him carefully.
“I wanted to thank you for my gift.” Kazuichi turns fully and takes the few strides over to him, only to find Gundham smiling, something small and warm like the atmosphere in the restaurant and altogether human.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t anything really special,” Kazuichi responds, because he is, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Those are real, by the way, if you want ‘em to be. I wouldn’t give you something if I didn’t want you to use it.”
Gundham’s smile dips at that, strangely, and Kazuichi squirms under the intense edge that Gundham’s gaze takes on. But then it’s back, impossibly softer; an expression Kazuichi certainly hasn’t seen on him before.
“That’s very kind of you, Kazuichi.” Gundham’s eyes slide over him carefully. “If I may, I’d like to use one of them now.”
Kazuichi’s face scrunches in confusion, trying to recall a coupon that Gundham could be using now, when it’s so late. “Uh, sure? But, listen, if you try to use the free hour of manual labor to make me shovel horse shit while I’m tipsy, I’ll kick your ass.”
Gundham laughs at that, but doesn’t respond as he scans through the envelope of coupons and carefully pulls one out. He holds it so Kazuichi can’t see which one it is.
“No, nothing like that. I’d like to think I’m not so cruel. I’ll use that one tomorrow morning.”
Kazuichi has half an urge to complain, but there’s a teasing edge in Gundham’s voice, and he’s fairly sure he’s kidding. Instead he chuckles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“But,” Gundham continues a moment later, eyes glued to the coupon in hand, “I do want to ascertain one thing before I use this. This gift was not intended for me, correct?”
Kazuichi startles at that, feeling caught out as Gundham’s gaze lands on him. He coughs uncomfortably before setting the box of phones down at his feet, kicking the dirt lamely.
“Uh. Yeah, actually, I kinda repurposed ‘em. Sorry.”
Gundham watches him. “Do not apologize. I am not so easily offended. But I am reconsidering my choice of coupon.”
Kazuichi frowns. “What? No way. C’mon, give it here, already,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes and seizing forward to grab it from Gundham’s hand. It’s pulled just out of his reach, Gundham flashing him a grin as he does so.
“Something tells me you may not want to see the coupon I’ve decided to use.”
“Dude,” Kazuichi argues, but there’s no bite to it. “I knew who I was givin’ ‘em to when I got you as my Secret Santa. Just hand it over.”
He resists the urge to jump for the slip of paper, but only just. Gundham looks down at him, expression once again somber, before shrugging a long moment later and laying the paper gently in Kazuichi’s open hand. Snatching it away while very petulantly sticking his tongue out in Gundham’s direction, he turns it over to read it.
The holder of this coupon is entitled to one free kiss.
The noise he makes as the words wash over him is embarrassing. Neither of them mention it.
“…Didn’t realize that one was still in there,” he says after a long moment, probably choking. He hears Gundham snort.
“I assumed as much. Goodnight, Kazuichi.”
Gundham turns to leave. Kazuichi half-steps, half-trips forward, seizing Gundham’s sleeve and turning his awe-struck gape into a wolfish grin before Gundham spins to face him.
“I didn’t say no.”
Gundham seems to startle at that, but he remains, eyes shifting between the hand keeping him still and Kazuichi’s face.
“But you haven’t said yes.”
Kazuichi rolls his eyes, glancing at the coupon still in his free hand. “How about this. I’ll give you a free sample. Then you can decide if you wanna use your coupon on me.”
Gundham raises an eyebrow. “Where else would I use it?”
Kazuichi shrugs, tucking the coupon back into Gundham’s pocket. “Dunno.” And then he’s reaching up to grab at Gundham’s scarf, hauling his stupidly tall frame down to meet him halfway in a kiss.
It’s a little weird; the pom-pom on the Santa hat falls between their faces, throwing the kiss off balance; they both taste like grape and peppermint and the bitterness that’s warming both of their bodies; and it’s Gundham, not Sonia that’s shyly offering him the kiss coupon, but as Gundham’s hand comes to rest lightly against Kazuichi’s neck and Kazuichi wraps both of his around Gundham to haul him even closer, he finds himself not caring as much as he thought he would.
Kazuichi pulls away first, more than a little delighted to see he’s not the only one of them peppermint red in the face.
“So, that coupon?”
Gundham rolls his eyes, a hand snaking down Kazuichi’s back to angle him just a touch closer. With his other, he retrieves the still unused coupon from his pocket.
“I think another free sample is in order.”
As Gundham’s mouth falls back onto his, he can’t say he really minds too much.