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‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all was calm. Not a creature was stirring, except for soldier-49 at the very top of the Christmas tree. His name was Phichit, and he was a much beloved trinket for every year’s tree. With bell bobbles tied around his head, a velvet furnish over his wood, and a snuggly suit for his guard’s march, Phichit always held the honor for being so close to the top of every year’s tree. For good reason, as well, for he scanned the living room with a watchful eye from his beacon.
Soft candles burned from the coffee table. Dozens of small and big presents sat by the fire as stockings wiggled and squirmed as the trinkets inside came to life. Wooden caterpillars inched up and rested upon the thick warmers of their stocking before slipping out and bouncing off the carpeted floor. Phichit urged them to stay quiet, and he whispered for the squeaky toys to come down last. Come down last for something will break their fall and muffle the squeaks that’ll inevitably stir someone awake from upstairs. And hopefully this year, unlike the past three, no one will come hurrying down the stairs and think that Santa has arrived.
Honestly, did parents still teach their kids about Santa Claus? Phichit rolled his eyes, or he tried to. With eyes designed to stay open for the ungodly hours of life, all Phichit could do was twist his head left or right to convey his annoyance before announcing for the other trinkets to come out and play.
Wooden planes from the top of the tree spun their spinners and leapt from the heights. Barreled down and soared into the air in synchronized spirals. They had that trick planned all year in the attic, and Phichit waved his arms around in hurrah when the planes landed safely on the carpet and joined with the other decorations and toys.
Second down the tree were the bulbs. Unhooked, they bounced from one limb to the next with no rhythm or rhyme. They were the dumb ones, but there was beauty in their madness. Watching a rainbow of colors hop up and down the Christmas tree, illuminating their joy across the white walls, was indeed a sight to motivate the candy canes and other goodies.
Ribbons drifted softly like snow. Glittery angels slid down the paper chains like on a mission. Last but not least were the soldiers, and Phichit ordered for a three-two-one countdown before they all leapt from their stations. Soldier-23, aka Jean Jacques, leapt before two. He bounced off of a present and landed face-first into the carpet before he mumbled for someone to pick him up. Otabek, one of the decorative angels, yanked him up and JJ shouted that he was okay. Phichit shook his head before dive-bombing when one came out, crisp and clear. Dozens of other soldiers leapt from their tree limbs and smacked the floor hard. The lucky ones bounced off of a present. Some collided with other decorations. An unfortunate soldier, whose name was kept a secret, landed close to the fireplace. Other than a few singe marks, they were fine.
Things were looking cheery. No one fought, everyone was okay, and Phichit calculated that they all had about six hours to do as they pleased before spending another three hundred and sixty-four days trapped in a suffocating box, in the dark and--for some--unbearably alone until the next Christmas Eve. Because as magic goes, good times can only last for the briefest of a moment before everything disappears within a snap.
So with the time Phichit had left, he was going to run around and make a fool of himself. But he couldn’t do that without a certain someone, and that someone hung from the lowest branch on the Christmas tree. There, on the barest and loneliest, hung Yuuri.
Yuuri, with a golden thread poking out from his neck to keep him steady on the weakest branch of the Christmas tree. Yuuri, with his guard’s suit ruffled and creased because he was at the bottom of the decorative box yet again. Yuuri, with golden hinges on his arms and legs because his splintered body was mangled and torn beneath the Christmas tree by a tantrum-bearing child Yuuri, he could barely walk when Phichit pulled him down gently. Unused to the sudden bend that he could do, Yuuri stumbled and Phichit caught him before he fell. Well, Phichit stood in front of Yuuri, and that was all he could do as Yuuri forced himself to stand up straight.
Each step trembled his entire body, and his arms wiggled around with no control. Every now and then, Yuuri would glance up at the other toy-soldiers and watch them march. How so long ago, he used to move the same way. But now? Yuuri could barely walk before he fell again, and Phichit couldn’t catch him in time.
“On the bright side, you’re the life to the party.” Phichit chuckled weakly when Yuuri pushed himself up. That was an added bonus to having bends in his limbs, but Yuuri had no structural integrity and flopped back onto the carpet again.
“Phichit, I can’t move.” Yuuri’s voice was muffled.
“You walked really well and--”
“I’m a soldier, Phichit.” Yuuri weakly lifted his head. “Can you pull on my string?”
Phichit did and the force was enough to bring Yuuri back onto his feet, though it strained his neck. His legs shook for a moment before finding their balance, and Yuuri rested his arms against his side. He could do this. As a toy-soldier, it was not only an obligation but treason to do anything else besides march when one had to move, and Yuuri had to be just like the others.
“I think being different is good,” Phichit chirped. “With three hundred and sixty-four days leading up to this moment, it’d be a waste to follow the crowd, Yuuri~”
“You can say that because you’re at the top of the tree.”
Yuuri took his first step. It was hard not to bend, and Yuuri trembled as he marched towards where all the other toy-soldiers were. Phichit followed behind him, arm reached out to tug on Yuuri’s string if he was going to fall again. Yuuri didn’t fall, but he felt every stare on him. Lingering gazes from his fellow soldiers made Yuuri move in all the ways he didn’t think possible. He would wiggle from one side and then to another, slowly shuffle like in a jazz-dance before tripping over his feet and face-planting into the carpet once again.
Everyone laughed, even Phichit couldn’t hold back a smile before he pulled Yuuri up.
“It’s like they’re seeing a new side to you, Yuuri.” He clasped a hand over Yuuri’s shoulder. “You’re interesting!”
Interesting…
The word only brought shame and embarrassment when Yuuri got up without Phichit’s help. He didn’t belong. Simple as that.
He disrupted the order of Christmas Eve. Everyone stopped at what they were doing and paid attention to him, completely neglecting all the promises and wishes that they wanted to do before next year. And for some trinkets, this was their first run with magic and Yuuri was robbing them of their first taste of freedom.
As soon as Yuuri heels rested on the carpet, he bolted. For the first time in his life, he ran because all he did before was march.
Before, Yuuri marched even though he was so far behind from all the other soldiers. Everyone had a role in the march like they were pieces of a puzzle, yet Yuuri felt like an expendable piece because someone could easily fill in for his gap. Then so be it.
Yuuri ran from the expectations that weighed him down. His doubts became his doves and led him through the living room until he stumbled. Yuuri got back up after every fall, building strength until he could run without stopping.
The cheery lights and Christmas thrill felt like a cold touch against Yuuri’s wood when he at the edge of the living room. He didn’t know where he was, having always been near the Christmas tree. He was alone, and no one bothered to follow him. Then again, marching would take too long and no one would dare venture this far when there only a limited hours left before sunrise.
Yuuri knew that he had to go back before then, but he didn’t have to back now. How could he go back and spend another Christmas Eve doing the same old things when there was a new environment to explore?
The little squeaks from his hinges offered a comforting rhythm as he walked. Yuuri found the stairs but didn’t go up. He found the kitchen, but he thought it best to not walk on a new surface when he was so used to the carpeted floors. Yuuri walked under tables and saw new walls that he never got to see from the bottom of the Christmas tree. The darkness comforted Yuuri in a way. It didn’t suffocate him, like in a box. This darkness was free and full of expedition and new sights to see.
Yuuri almost bumped into a music box that had fallen from earlier in the night. The poor thing was on its side, and Yuuri feared that he would loosen his hinges if he tried to straighten it. However, the music box was upside down and granted, whoever lived in it probably didn’t like being upside down. Not only that, Yuuri was a soldier. One of the most important things that went along with the title was being a hero. Even if it was something as small as picking up a friend after they fell, or flipping someone’s home right-side up.
Yuuri pushed. Nothing happened. He tried to lift the music box, but he stopped immediately when he heard his wood splinter. Yuuri tried knocking, wondering if the inhabitant inside was awake and not... dead. No one responded. Yuuri had to conclude that either the worse had happened or that no one lived in the music box. He wished it was the latter and was just about to leave before he noticed a silver key lying about a few inches away. Probably the little turner for the music box to play, so Yuuri walked over and picked it up. Quite heavy for a key, but not heavy enough to where Yuuri could hear himself splinter under his hinges.
Yuuri wasn’t quite sure of why he wanted to bring the key closer to its home. For the benefits of the humans that lived in the house? Perhaps. To feel somewhat useful and having fulfilled something in the few hours that he could move? Perhaps, as well. But even more so, perhaps this was a chance for Yuuri to do things that he couldn’t or wouldn’t normally do near the Christmas tree, with so many eyes and ears keeping tabs on him despite him doing nothing every year besides talk to Phichit. Deep down, Yuuri truly believed that Phichit wouldn’t miss him this year. There were so many other ornaments to talk to and like the analogy earlier, someone else could easily fill in the gap of where Yuuri used to be.
So on this night, Yuuri wanted to be himself. But gosh, he forgot what that meant after being a cookie-copy for so many Christmases. Nothing hurt in trying and Yuuri wanted to make his own memories.
He inserted the key into the hole on the music box’s side and twisted. Court-clockwise until he heard a mechanic stir from within the box, and the whole thing lurched as the latch tore open and a figure flew out from the inside. Knocked onto his back, Yuuri braced himself for an attack. Instead, he heard the subtle clink of glass.
“Oh my, are you the one who awoken me from my slumber?”
Yuuri lowered his arms. Standing before him as fluid as water was a skating-figurine. White as snow and as fragile as porcelain, the figure in front of Yuuri was painted with purple and gold. Dark navy sleeves ran up the length of his arm, and a fringe of his bangs covered his left eye. But even so, the eye Yuuri could see was animated as if it was two.
The skater extended one of his legs back when he helped Yuuri up. An innocent finger trailed up Yuuri’s neck and to bottom of his chin before it curled around the golden thread that stuck out from Yuuri’s self.
“My name is Viktor.” Viktor bowed his head softly. Though his hair was made of glass, its movement was fluid as if it was real.
“Yuuri.” It was all Yuuri could manage before he pried Viktor’s fingers off from his thread. “I’m sorry.” Yuuri twisted the thread so that it would extend behind him instead.
“I apologize as well. I’ve only seen your kind from afar, so I got curious.” Viktor glanced down to his skates before gazing up softly with a lifted smile. The gesture and the movements that contributed to the smile mesmerized Yuuri. Every twitch of the lip or drawn blink looked so natural. It was unlike Yuuri had ever seen before and granted, this was his first time seeing any of this. With glass fixtures being so rare near the Christmas tree, Yuuri never had the chance to properly meet one up close. Let alone, speak to one while alone like this.
“My kind?” Yuuri twiddled his fingers.
Viktor rolled his head left and right, working out the tightness in his neck. “Yes, the soldiers. Every Christmas Eve, I watch all of you parade by the warmth of the fireplace.” Viktor pointed up to a counter ledge that connected to the kitchen. “It always looked so cheery.” A bit of a hum caught the edge of Viktor’s words before he hopped and twirled around. Moving his arms and every which way for a mock-dance to spring his body back to life after three hundred and sixty-four days of stiffness.
One of Yuuri’s arms tried to move to Viktor’s rhythm, but Yuuri stopped himself.
“It’s not as fun as you would think it is.”
“How so?” Viktor lifted an eyebrow before whisking Yuuri into his dance. Yuuri stumbled, not sure of how to move as Viktor’s body swayed to silent music. Yuuri had never danced before, but Viktor was more than willing to help when he asked if Yuuri would like to learn. It was a warm whisper to Yuuri’s ear, and the toy-soldier locked up for the first time that night. Viktor told him that being stiff would make dancing harder, and Yuuri mumbled that marching was the only rhythm that he needed in his life.
“It’s who I am.”
Viktor shook his head. His fingers interlocked between Yuuri’s before he nodded to a slow rhythm for them to waltz to. “It’s who you think you ought to be. To fit in, to feel wanted, and to feel like you belong somewhere.”
Yuuri treaded carefully, wincing when he accidentally stepped on Viktor’s skates. Viktor didn’t raise a remark about it, but Yuuri broke from the dance. He leapt away from Viktor but in reality, he merely took a few steps back. “How would you know?”
“You’re right. I don’t know.” Viktor tapped his skates together like a child that wanted to make a wish. “I don’t know because I’m not like you, but I’m not ignorant to what hurts the most.” Viktor clasped a hand to the back of his neck, unable to meet Yuuri’s questioning gaze. “As a decoration, you’re a puzzle to a whole. To feel left out or to have not contributed anything to the group leaves its marks. Much like being alone and no one has the chance to meet you.”
“Where were you from?” Yuuri asked.
Viktor pointed to the counter ledge above them again. Yuuri couldn’t tell if Viktor was annoyed with him or not, but he saw a sliver of Viktor’s left eye. Along with it were all the tears and fretful years that Viktor had hid from everyone, including himself, because he had no one to talk to. Until now, and Viktor wasn’t quite sure of how he wanted to continue the conversation.
Stepping forward and curling his fingers around Viktor’s again, Yuuri spoke to fill the void. He asked Viktor if he could have a dance-lesson. The request perked Viktor’s head, and Yuuri tightened his hold over the figurine’s hand.
“I ran out here to make new memories.” All the words he wanted to say couldn’t make it over his tongue, but Yuuri wanted to make the most of this. “Can you help me?”
“Can I, Yuuri?”
His name rolled off so easily, so sweetly from Viktor’s lips. Yuuri couldn’t hear the squeaks from his hinges anymore when he cradled Viktor’s hand in his own.
“You can.”
Just as the words crept from his lips, Viktor slowly spun Yuuri around him before leading him across the carpeted floor. The clink of glass when Yuuri adjusted his touches, and for when Viktor caressed Yuuri’s shoulders and down his arms to liberate the stiffness in the joints. He didn’t ask why Yuuri had golden hinges for where his limbs could bend. He didn’t laugh when Yuuri occasionally tripped stumbled because of his shaking knees. Viktor was always there to hold Yuuri steady, give a reassuring smile and nod, before continuing the dance.
To dance this calmly wasn’t like Viktor, but Yuuri was new to this. One step at a time, one dance after another while Viktor asked Yuuri about the Christmas tree. About the warmth from the fireplace and of the songs that could be heard from the distance as the other decorations and trinkets sang. Yuuri taught Viktor a few of the songs, and his hearty voice echoed in the silence that shattered above them like frost.
When it felt like the night couldn’t end, Viktor had to let Yuuri go. His fingers slid out from between Yuuri’s, carefully traced across the soldier’s palm, before his hands rested by his side with a soft clink.
“I think it’s time for you to go home.”
“Viktor, I have two--”
“Making new memories is great, but spending time with friends is just as important.” Viktor bowed his head and offered to escort Yuuri back to the Christmas tree. Yuuri needed to catch his breath.
Granted, a toy-soldier didn’t need one, but Yuuri could understand where Viktor was coming from. Even if it meant enduring laughter and jives from the other soldiers and decorations, Yuuri had a place where he belonged. Friends, ornaments that he promised to talk to. But in the moment, it didn’t feel quite right.
“Viktor, what about you?” Yuuri hardly waited for a response. “Won’t you be lonely?”
“Tonight, I’m not lonely. However, I fear that your friends might be.” There was a gentleness to Viktor’s words, and they resonated in Yuuri’s mind when he came back to the Christmas tree. He walked into the warmth alone. Viktor leaned against a leather couch and watched as soldiers and decorations embraced Yuuri for he had returned home. A party began and Yuuri was lifted into the air and clothed in holiday streamers and mistletoe. Viktor didn’t quite understand the traditions or charms, but he found comfort in knowing that Yuuri was cared for.
And so like any other end to a Christmas Eve, the magic ended when the sun came up for Christmas. All the decorations went back to their homes. Wooden caterpillars made stairways out of their bodies and slipped back into the stockings. Toy-soldiers climbed up the Christmas tree and back to their usual stations as wooden planes soared up and nested amongst the leaves. Viktor waltzed back into his music box and closed it shut. Just as the sun peeked through the living room curtains, all the magic that brought life and love into the decorations ceased.
And once more, it was as if nothing had happened before.
The spirit of a magical eve began with a stir for life. When magic fell upon the Christmas living room again, Yuuri sent in a special request through the tree’s “grape-vine”. Hung from the lowest branch yet again, the little toy-soldier sent a message up from the paper chains. The paper chains sent the news to the bulbous ornaments, the bulbous ornaments did a telephone line up to the other soldiers, and then the jigsawed and skewed message made it to Phichit’s ears just before he gave the wooden planes the signal to leap from the tree top.
“Orders from the lowest branch!” shouted a soldier.
“But we don’t have--oh, you mean from the Christmas tree. Recall, over!” Phichit made an ‘X’ with his arms, and the wooden planes to his left and right froze in mid-spin.
“Yuuri likes your bells!”
If Phichit could blush, the rosy-wood that made him would grow darker along his cheeks. “Tell Yuuri that I love his hinges, over!”
Before the message could go down the Christmas tree, another soldier shouted to get Phichit’s attention and he had to hold back the wooden planes once again. “Orders from the lowest branch!”
“Just talk to me if there’s something that needs to be said!”
“Yuuri needs a plane, Sir!”
“A plane?” Phichit whispered, a slight tilt to his head. He glanced at the waiting planes by his right and left wing. Hopping from one branch to another, Phichit asked if one of them could break from formation for just this once. “It’s for a friend,” Phichit added. When none of the planes gave him a response, Phichit mumbled to the side that one of them will be the most remembered on a magical night like this.
At once, the spinners on all of the planes spun, but only one of them leapt from their station and swooped to the bottom where Yuuri was. Like a delicate bird, the plane perched itself on an accompanying branch as Yuuri climbed on top of it. Holding onto the wings for dear life, Yuuri asked if he could be flown to the counter ledge near the kitchen.
“I need to pick up someone. Is that alright?”
If a plane could shrug, it would. Instead, the wooden bird wiggled its tail before whizzing into the air. Climbing up slowly before dropping because of the lack of momentum, and the plane spun into a death spiral and Yuuri’s shrieks could be heard from the top of the Christmas tree. Where Phichit gnawed on his fingers until the wooden plane straightened itself and gained height again. Yuuri slipped. His hands ran down the wings and off from the tail, but his golden thread got caught around the plane’s wheel and axle.
The thread tightened around Yuuri’s throat, but at he was in the air. For now, even though the plane struggled with its now bottom-heavy self. Clinging to his thread, Yuuri slowly climbed up. His legs kicked the air, swinging him back and forth dangerously as the plane buzzed over the leathery couches and wooly blankets. The mountain crest of the main couch came closer, and Yuuri scrambled awkwardly. Grasping the plane’s tail, Yuuri found himself in an upside down fetal-position with his feet locked on top of a wheel and axle. If he hadn’t been broken last year, Yuuri wouldn’t have the hinges that could allow his body to move in this way. An incident that he was glad of now than before when no one could hear him scream.
“Right there! Near the music box,” Yuuri hollered out when the wooden plane began its slow descent to the runway. Wheels first, the plane skidded across the counter ledge and ran into some mail that was left out. But other than that, the landing was a hitch. Yuuri fell off the tail, and his back smacked against the counter ledge. It took some fidgeting before he managed to free his feet, and Yuuri thanked the wooden plane for its service.
Standing up so high, it took a moment for Yuuri to find his balance. Or better yet, it took Yuuri a moment for his screws to tighten after his freaky adventure. He took a few circle-laps before marching over to Viktor’s music box. His arms pumping up and down, instilling some confidence before he knocked on Viktor’s door.
“That’s now how you open a music box.” Viktor’s muffled tease blossomed a smile over Yuuri’s lips. He glanced around and found the music box’s key laying near the edge of the ledge. Pulling it back, Yuuri picked it up and inserted the key into where it could be turned. Yuuri moved slowly, the mechanical wheels and instrumentations within the music box cranked back. When Yuuri let go, he stepped back as the music box swung open.
Standing, poised on the tips of his skates, one arm pointed straight into the air while the other remained at an angle by his side, the little turntable beneath him spun slowly as notes trickled from below. A sprinkling piano of notes broke Viktor from his year-long hold, and he twirled off from his turntable. His body moved to the music until he fell into Yuuri’s arms and rested his glassy-palm over Yuuri’s cheek.
“Hello, sweetheart. Care to dance with me?”
Yuuri glanced elsewhere, but there was a flicker in his eyes. “Care to fly with me instead?” Yuuri jerked his head, and Viktor’s gaze fell upon a squeaky wooden plane as it ran over mail. “It’s not the best, but I--”
“No one’s ever asked me to fly with them before.” Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s shoulders and spun the toy-soldier into his arms. The embrace issued a squeak from Yuuri’s lips, but he found a shoulder to rest his chin as Viktor held him close with a tender touch. “Thank you.”
Yuuri rested his hands over Viktor’s back and patted him slowly. Each pat resonated through Viktor, and Yuuri could hear the vibrations against his chest. Part of him wanted to stay like this for the rest of the night, but Yuuri had to pull away first. “Let’s go, Viktor.”
With some experience on his hinges, Yuuri told Viktor the best places to hold onto for good grip.
“Is it okay if I hold you?” Yuuri didn’t lift his gaze until he heard the clink of Viktor’s bangs. “So you won’t slip off the wings.”
“You’re more of a flier than me, Yuuri. I trust your judgement.” Viktor shot his imaginary finger-guns before climbing up the wooden plane. Yuuri rubbed under the plane’s wing for good luck before tying his thread around one of the structural supports. When Yuuri was sure that he was secured, he climbed up the wings and wrapped a comforting arm over Viktor’s shoulder. The wooden plane ran through a few laps before flying off the counter.
This time around, the flight was less erratic. Almost streamline and romantic in a way for when they approached the fireplace, Viktor’s entire body glowed orange and red. His laughter rang clear as a bell when he saw the usual parade below, and he waved his hand to all the faces he would see from afar. He reached out and felt the itchy leaves below his fingers when the plane flew close to the tree.
Yuuri pointed out the stockings and all the soldiers that he knew. When the plane soared above Phichit’s head, his eyes lit up when he saw Yuuri with someone new under his arm. There was a cheer, but Yuuri told the plane to fly up and the voices below faded into a blur. Viktor didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with all the colors and warmth that he could only see and feel in his dreams.
Was this a dream?
No, because Viktor felt Yuuri’s fingers curl around his own.
Yuuri found his fingers around VIktor’s again when the figurine taught him a new dance. Viktor had imagined, brainstormed, and worked out the technicalities for the dance while in one of his sleepless dreams. Granted, he had several, but this was a dream that he kept coming back to as Christmas Eve ticked closer and Viktor could feel the magic flow into his fingertips.
“Is the dance too hard?” Viktor asked when Yuuri needed to stop and adjust his hinges. Yuuri hesitated before nodding slowly, mumbling how his hinges will snap and twist his limbs if he worked them too hard. Yuuri offered to pace himself, but Viktor shook his head and said that he would make the routine easier.
“You spent all year planning for this, and…” Yuuri’s voice trailed off when Viktor lifted up on of his skates and showed Yuuri an obvious crack down the heel. At the injury area, the crack was the worst. Chipped and fragmented as baby fissures migrated up the back of Viktor’s leg. “When you asked me earlier if the dance was too hard, you were referring to this?”
Viktor managed a slow nod before drawing his injured skate away from Yuuri.
“It’s good to take things easy after you’ve been broken once.” Viktor found a seat on a flashlight and gestured for Yuuri to come sit next to him. Yuuri sat down, an obvious inch or two between him and Viktor when they looked down at the year’s parade near the fireplace.
“Why do you still dance if it hurts you?” Yuuri quickly apologized afterwards, recognizing how insensitive his question could be.
Viktor tilted his head a bit. “Sometimes the things we enjoy give us pain, so we learn to moderate how much time we spend on it.” Viktor’s rested his hands over his lap. “I think this dance lesson is over.”
“Only after an hour?”
“Only after an hour, yes.” Viktor mused himself a bit with some hums and caroling. Yuuri eventually joined him, and they harmonized together for a little while. Their voices danced in the darkness when their bodies couldn’t. Just before Yuuri had to leave and return to his post at the Christmas tree, he hugged Viktor and whispered his goodbyes. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.”
“Is it because I spend more time with you than with my friends?”
“Yes, to rob a decoration of their one night of magic is a crime. I need to repay you back.”
“You already have,” Yuuri whispered before planting a chaste kiss over Viktor’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Viktor.”
“As to you, Yuuri.” The words hovered over Viktor’s lips when he watched Yuuri climb onto a wooden plane to go home.
“You’ve spent seven nights with him. I’m surprised.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds naughtier than it really is,” Yuuri hissed. He adjusted his hinges before taking his place in the marching line. Instead of taking his spot at the lead, Phichit stood next to Yuuri. Shoulders squared, head held high, and a noticeable wink that rang like a bell while Yuuri looked forward.
His first march in seven years, and Yuuri wasn’t as rusty as he thought he would be. Like a piece in a puzzle, he fitted in well when the parade began. All the newer decorations watched in awe as the line of toy-soldiers snaked out from the bottom of the Christmas tree. The older decorations hooted and hollered, having already forgotten that they had to be silent in case a human came down the staircase.
Boughs of holly were distributed amongst the decorations as they danced and rolled to the rhythmic march. The marching line broke into three sections. All three marched, side by side, with stoic faces. Every move was in sync with another’s, and a swell of pride glowed over Yuuri’s chest when his body moved on its own. Having done this act for so many times that he didn’t have to think to fit in with the others.
Wooden planes flew over his head, snowing glitter over everyone. Time seemed to flow slowly for Yuuri at this moment. The marching footsteps around him faded into the background until all he could hear was himself.
“You’ve spent seven nights with him. I’m surprised.” Phichit’s words echoed in the back of Yuuri’s mind. They weren’t said with malice or disapproval, but out of sheer joy. Yuuri thought that Phichit would be upset about the whole thing, but he wasn’t. Merely happy that Yuuri had found someone that motivated him to move on Christmas Eve.
“I’ve never seen you so animated before!” Phichit had told Yuuri last year as the latter practiced a few jumps and turns for a dance routine with Viktor for that Christmas Eve. There were more things that Phichit had said over the years, but they were lost to Yuuri when he touched Phichit by the shoulder.
“Phichit.”
Phichit turned his head. “Hmm?”
“Thank you for being understanding.”
“We’re friends, Yuuri. Friends learn to understand one another, and we’ve been at it for ten years.” Phichit gave Yuuri a fist-bump, and Yuuri returned the gesture. “Besides, we meet all sorts of individuals in our lives. How can I be jealous when you’re experiencing new things with someone you cherish?”
“Cherish?” The word felt foreign to Yuuri.
“Viktor means a lot to you, doesn’t he?” When Yuuri shrugged shyly in response, Phichit added, “You mean a lot to him too.”
“Me?” Yuuri pointed at himself.
Phichit kept his chuckle quiet enough so that only he and Yuuri could hear it. “What made you think otherwise?”
Yuuri thought he didn’t have a response, but he did. “It feels like Viktor is pushing me away.” The fireplace didn’t feel so warm anymore when Yuuri passed by it. “He opens up a little bit and he adores hugs, but he quickly ends whatever we’re doing when emotions are on the line.”
“What does he say when he ends the night’s activities?” It was an innocent question, even if the delivery spoke of anything else than that.
“He tells me...that I should enjoy time near the Christmas tree as well.”
“This Viktor-fella thinks about you a lot.” Phichit bumped his elbow against’s Yuuri’s. “He’s considerate, making sure you don’t have any regrets with the magic dies. I think he understands that maintaining balance in your relations leads to a positive outlook on life.”
Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Even if he’s lonely in return?”
“He treasures you enough to let you go so that you can fulfill all the things you want to do in life.” Phichit pointed to a figure in the crowd, and Yuuri squinted for a moment before widening his eyes. There, leaning against a decorative bulb, with shiny grin hanging over his sleeve was Viktor. How or when he came to the Christmas tree, Yuuri didn’t know. But to see Viktor here, to see Viktor joining in on the festivities instead of lurking far away, to see Viktor decorated with mistletoe and holly for joining for the first time.
Yuuri skipped a heartbeat.
He broke formation. Phichit shouted for the wooden planes to fly over again. Silver glitter fell over the parade like soft snow, dusting over Yuuri’s hair and guard-suit when he tackled Viktor and embraced him between his arms. Viktor kept himself steady and didn’t fall back. He rested his chin over Yuuri’s hair and rubbed soft circles along the toy-soldier’s back.
“How did you get here?” Yuuri’s voice cracked from the sudden rush.
“You can thank magic for that,” was what Viktor said when he cradled Yuuri in his arms. He winked at Phichit, and the toy-soldier gave him a salute as the parade ended with a final hurrah.
Viktor couldn’t remember when he first met Yuuri. It wasn’t nearly a twelve years ago when the toy-soldier stumbled upon his music box with a silver key. But perhaps, it was one of those dozens of times where Viktor would look over to the Christmas tree and watch the parades. Perhaps, it was when he noticed a lone toy-soldier huddled near the tree while everyone else partied and danced to the cackling tunes from the fireplace. But even more so, Viktor couldn’t believe that he was this close to Yuuri now.
It was one of those rare moments where he wasn’t dancing, or where Yuuri didn’t seem to worry about the now. After the year’s parade, the two sat by the fireplace and watched the embers flicker and bounce off from the iron gates. Everyone around them had calmed down for the night, and ornaments paired and separated into groups for bonding time. Those moments where small laughter and talk would resonate more to the soul than any celebration.
It was at this moment, Viktor found the courage to open up.
Yuuri found was an experienced toy-soldier, having been part of the Christmas magic for nearly twenty-four years when he was first brought to the house. Many eves had to pass before Yuuri found the company that he enjoyed and over time, he mellowed out. The once-worries and the once-fears that used to plague his mind and weigh him down didn’t feel so heavy anymore because Yuuri had a new perspective for his life.
So when Viktor asked him if it was okay to talk about something, Yuuri leaned over and offered a listening ear. Though he and Viktor were close, they didn’t know much about each other or their dreams or aspirations. So to hear Viktor whisper about his dreams of dancing and the joy of being so close to everybody on a Christmas Eve like this, it warmed Yuuri’s chest.
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Yuuri told him.
Viktor hummed a little tune when he glanced over at Yuuri. “It’s good to share joy and the future with others.”
Yuuri met Viktor’s gaze and laughter rang out between them.
Everything felt so warm, so bright.
Neither could imagine anything different than this.
When night falls, I lose you again.
The inhabitants of the house didn’t have children anymore. The little boy and girl that used to decorate the tree were all grown up now. The stockings by the fireplace were still hung up out of habit, but the wooden caterpillars and trinkets inside were gone. The spot where the year’s Christmas tree would stand was empty. Just a blank space in a blank living room because all the presents now weren’t wrapped anymore. Not a single toy touched the floor because there weren’t any toys this year.
All the ornaments were sealed into boxes and thrown out on the curb for the garbage-disposal.
When Viktor woke up on Christmas Eve, he opened his music box. The fireplace was cold and blue. There were no lights, no warmth, no love, no life. Just a bare space where everything used to be.
All the things that Viktor wished he would’ve said, should’ve said, could’ve said, and would’ve blurted out if he had the chance...All those moments and words died at Viktor’s throat. Yuuri was gone.
Viktor never got to say a formal-goodbye because he thought this day would never come.
As slowly as the magic that used to run through his fingertips, how slowly it left Viktor because life and love didn’t exist in the living room anymore. His body stiffened as he resumed his yearly-pose for all to admire, but no one would ever figure out why his face looked so pained when years prior, there was elegance and free-spirit engraved.
Eventually, Viktor and his music box were thrown out as well. Actually, Viktor and his home were given away to a close family-friend who used to come over often during the winter holidays. As soon as the box was gifted in their hands, the family-friend opened it with the silver key and saw Viktor for the first time. They inspected the skating-figurine and noticed the obvious wear-and-tear on the back of Viktor’s left leg. With the best equipment that they had, the family-friend repaired the injury with glue and some glass to give Viktor back his strength.
“It’s good to take things easy after you’ve been broken once.” The family-friend didn’t close the music box when they finished. Having spent their night working, they fell asleep on the couch as magic flowed into their living room like water. The currents rushed by and splashed Viktor until he could lower his arms and inspect the back of his left leg. Though the new glass that patched his injury didn’t fit his color-scheme, Viktor was able to walk comfortably for the first time in years. Not having to wobble back and forth, or hold himself steady against something. He tried a jump, and the sensation felt good.
He glanced around the new living room he was in, noting how warm and bright it was. As if he stepped back in time and was reliving the magical experiences from years prior when there was everyone.
Viktor had to watch himself if he wanted to dance because there was a human on the couch, snoring softly under a blanket. His thick, black hair brushed to the side while blue-framed glasses slipped off his nose. Viktor had seen this human before, but in another form.
This couldn’t be…
“Yuuri?”
“Yuuri, sweetheart. You’re going to have a crick in your neck if you sleep on the couch.” Viktor rubbed Yuuri’s head until the latter opened one of his eyes slowly. Yuuri mumbled that he was having a good dream before Viktor woke him up, and Viktor apologized with a gentle kiss to the forehead. Enough to wake Yuuri before he leaned up and kissed Viktor softly.
“What dream did you have?”
“It was a little weird.” Yuuri scratched the back of his neck before curling himself deeper under his blanket. Viktor shook his shoulders slowly.
“Do you want me to make some hot chocolate before we talk about it?”
“Yes, please.” Yuuri smiled when he rubbed his cheek against his blanket. He heard Viktor tiptoe into the kitchen. The kettle touched the stove and water boiled before Viktor returned with two, steaming mugs of hot chocolate. The smell alone was enough to perk Yuuri’s senses when he brought one of the mugs to his lips.
Viktor sat next to him and rested his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. “What did you dream about, darling?”
Looking at the rosy fire in their fireplace, Yuuri whispered, “When night falls, I love you again.”
Viktor snuggled close to Yuuri. “Yuuri, you love me?”
Yuuri snuggled Viktor back. “More than words can express.”