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The first Christmas decorations hit Genos like a dragon-class monster. Certainly harder than the estimated wolf-class he'd just defeated in the parking lot of the convenience store. He took it down in a flurry of quick blows, snapped a picture with his phone to report the kill, and turned to check if the store had security cameras to verify his report.
And then he saw it. A small display of cheap twinkle lights in red and green boxes, stacked up in the window below a poster of a log cabin covered in snow.
It was October 30th.
He arrived back at the apartment in something like a fugue. He couldn't remember if he'd sent in his report to the association, and he couldn't bring himself to care. Saitama didn't notice anything, at least Genos didn't think so, but after he'd been home for an hour he realized this was the third time Saitama had asked him some variation on "Y'okay there bud?"
"Yes sensei," Genos replied, just as he had the last two times. "I'm fine."
Saitama wasn't always the most observant guy. The fact that it took him until he was 25 years old to figure it out was proof enough of that. But there were things that sort of... cried out to him. Sometimes literally.
"No! Please!"
Running at top speed, it took Saitama under one second to cross the three blocks to the source of the scream. In an alley a couple of fast food workers were being menaced by a hairy figure in a black fur coat and matching hat.
"You'll pay," the figure said, a standard line. "You'll all pay!"
Saitama took in the details. Thick fingers that ended in claws, curly horns like a goat, the terrified tears in the workers' eyes, the dripping red sack the monster carried that didn't look like it had started out red...
"Feel the wrath of all the men left alone on Christmas E-"
Without another second of hesitation, Saitama punched the monster into the wall. Its skull broke beneath his fist, so all that hit the brick was meat and fur.
One of the workers, a girl, made a disgusted noise and Saitama felt a rare wave of self-consciousness and shook the blood off his glove.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," the guy worker said. "Uh, who are you?"
"I'm a hero for... I'm a hero." He winced, and added, "Caped Baldy."
They only nodded, which proved they hadn't heard of him.
"Thanks," the girl said. "I've never seen a monster up close before. He looked like a normal guy but then he saw us kissing back here on our break and- and just lost it!"
"Yeah. Don't worry, it wasn't your fault," Saitama said absently, examining the monster remains. "They do that. If it wasn't you it woulda been someone else." He pointed at the pile of black fur. "Was he like... an evil goat Santa?"
"Yeah, kinda," the guy confirmed.
"Krampus," the girl said, frowning. "Well, the modern interpretation."
"Isn't it kinda early for Christmas stuff?"
The two workers exchanged a glance. "I guess, but it is November 30th. Tomorrow's December."
"Already?" Saitama rubbed his forehead. It had been getting chillier, but... "Shit."
Somehow he never noticed until it was too late to brace himself.
He couldn't turn the thoughts off. The memories. At least this year he wouldn't have to spend the day alone, but spending it with Genos was a different kind of hurdle. Did Genos even like Christmas? He liked Halloween, when Saitama took him to the fashionable district to look at all the cool teens in their costumes. He'd been depressed the day before, and Saitama wanted to distract him. And it worked! Cool young fashionable people were Genos' people. He fit right in, seemed to enjoy himself, and somehow picked up a sexy witch costume to wear for Saitama that night.
But Halloween was about costumes and candy and parties. Christmas was about...
An empty house.
No.
A cold bedroom.
Stop it.
Waking up knowing there was nothing and no one waiting for you.
Don't do this.
And there never would be.
Saitama rubbed his hands over his face, smearing blood across his brow where it had lodged between the glove's fingers. The memories would linger until the Christmas lights came down, and there was nothing he could do but wait it out. Knowing that didn't make it any easier, though.
Most importantly, he wasn't alone this year. He had Genos, who was young and excitable and loved him. The romantic side of Christmas wasn't something Saitama had experience with either, but he could do it. He could put up with it.
For Genos.
They were putting up more decorations. Rainbow lights. Plastic icicles. Snowflake decals. Pictures of smiling old men who made Genos' chest ache, even though it shouldn't be able to. He couldn't remember what his grandfathers had looked like anymore. He could barely remember his father.
When he got home, lost in thought, Genos froze before he fully registered what was wrong. There on the door, the entrance to his sanctuary, was a cheap artificial wreath. Unnaturally green and smushed flat on the bottom, wound with red and gold ribbon that was already frayed at the ends.
His chest clenched so hard he worried his core would break.
"I'm home sensei," Genos said as he came inside. No matter how bad the ache, he never forget to be respectful.
Saitama didn't reply for a long moment. He was standing at the sliding door, looking up at the overcast sky. "W'lcome home. You think it's gonna snow?"
Genos opened his mouth to tell Saitama about the barometer pressure and four-day forecast and stopped himself in time to answer, "Not until tonight."
"Oh."
"You don't like snow, sensei?"
"'Course not. Who does? Besides skiers, I guess."
Genos had. Once. If school was cancelled he would huddle under the kotatsu with his siblings and spend the day playing card games and drinking tea.
"Yes, sensei."
Saitama gave him an odd look, but said nothing.
They ate dinner almost in silence. Saitama forgot to add the sesame oil, leaving the food bland and overcooked, but Saitama didn't say anything and Genos didn't mind.
Perhaps he'd noticed Genos' melancholy. Perhaps he was caught up in worries of his own. If he wanted Genos to know, he would tell him. Genos had to believe that.
The next day Saitama disappeared while Genos was cleaning the kitchen, and when he returned he had a box of cheap twinkle lights. Without a word to Genos, he went out on the balcony and started winding it around the railing, brushing away last night's snow. Of course, the reason they were so cheap was that they were short, and they ran out half way.
Saitama caught Genos' eye through the kitchen partition and gave him a smile that looked painful. "Sorry," he said. "I'll get more tomorrow."
"You don't have to, sensei."
"No. I know, but I want to."
Genos had to swallow before he could say, "Okay, sensei."
Saitama was as good as his word. The next day there was a second string of lights, slightly off-color from the first. They twinkled out of sync and made Genos want to wrap himself in a blanket and cry for days.
But he couldn't, of course. This was for Saitama. Saitama wanted this.
Things were quiet. Days passed, weeks, and things stayed quiet. Saitama and Genos worked, cooked, cleaned, just like they had since Genos moved in all those months ago. But... for some reason conversation came rarely.
It was all Saitama's fault, he knew that, and he was trying. But it was so hard to shake off the fog and pretend he was normal. Genos could tell - why else would he be so melancholy? - but he never brought it up and Saitama didn't want to ruin the holiday for him.
So weeks went by in near-silence.
On Friday, December 22nd, Saitama realized he was in trouble. The whole point of this was to give Genos a nice romantic Christmas Eve, but Saitama had no idea what couples did on Christmas Eve. The dates they did go on were always mundane things; dinner, movie, dinner and a movie.
Genos headed off to fight something or other, so Saitama took the opportunity for a battle of his own. Braving the cold wet streets, full of happy shoppers and decorations that made him hurt, to do some research.
He didn't find much, at first. The restaurants all had the traditional chicken meals, the movie theaters had the blockbusters. Saitama had wanted to see a couple of those but he didn't know if he could concentrate on a screen for two hours.
There was an ice skating rink, but Genos would be too heavy. There was wine and chocolate tasting, but Genos was underage and Saitama couldn't trust himself not to over-indulge. They could always just walk around and look in shops... which was when Saitama realized he hadn't gotten Genos a present yet either.
He ended up at the same fashion district where he'd taken Genos for Halloween. There were still stylish young people walking around, but now mostly in pairs, holding hands, wearing matching scarves.
It was all too much. Even if Saitama had any idea where to start, he didn't have the money to get Genos the kind of gift he deserved. Shopping and date-planning and pretending he wasn't... wasn't...
Saitama was so tired he wasn't sure he could make himself walk home, much less make a reservation. Tunnel vision led him to a bench, where Saitama collapsed and buried his face in his hands, trying to cut off some of the sensory assault.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there. At one point a woman asked if she could sit next to him, and Saitama just grunted. The jangly carols went on and on.
"...tama?"
Something was trying to get through.
"Saitama? Are you okay?"
He raised his head to see himself reflected in a visor. He looked as bad as he felt.
"Mumen?"
"Hi," Mumen offered a cautious smile. "What's up?"
"I'm... tired."
"Yeah? Do you want a ride?"
Saitama shook his head. "Not that kind of tired. I'll be okay."
"Are you sure?"
He must sound awful too. Or maybe Mumen had been trying to get his attention for even longer than Saitama noticed.
The last thing Saitama wanted was to burden anybody with his stupid holiday depression, but if he didn't perk up soon he wasn't going to get home before Genos got worried. If it was for Genos, then...
"Can you walk with me some? I don't want to be alone."
Instantly Mumen offered his hand. "Of course I can."
Saitama accepted the help up, despite not needing it, and found himself pulled into a hug. Man-style, one-armed with a hard pat on the back. In spite of everything, in spite of himself, Saitama did feel energized when Mumen released him.
They walked for a while. Mumen pushed his bike along the edge of the sidewalk, Saitama sticking close to his side so as not to block people, and for no other reason. It wasn't until they left the crowds of shoppers that Mumen cleared his throat.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Saitama shrugged. "I just... hate Christmas."
"Why?"
"Never had a good one." He shook his head. "No, I did, once when I was really little. But that kinda made it worse, because I knew it was supposed to be nice. But instead every year it's just been... a reminder. Everything I don't have."
"You have Genos, don't you? I thought the two of you were..."
"Yeah we are, we are. He's great." Saitama waved at a shop window full of tinsel. "That's why I'm out here, to make date plans. I want to do it for him. Do Christmas properly."
"But... you can't, can you?" Mumen asked softly.
"I can," Saitama said. "I have to."
"But you don't, Saitama. Genos-san would never want you to make yourself depressed for his sake."
"That's why he's not gonna find out. He... he forgets he's allowed to have fun sometimes. This kinda thing is important."
"Saitama-"
"No, listen," maybe if Saitama barreled on he could convince himself as well as Mumen, "I love him, you know? And he's been through a lot. Way more than I have. He deserves to hit all the milestones."
"Saitama."
"I just have to keep it together for a couple more days. They start taking the decorations down on the 25th. Then Genos will be happy and I'll be normal and it will be fine."
"Are you done?" Mumen asked.
Saitama nodded.
"Okay, well, that all sounds very good, but... have you asked Genos what he wants?"
"Like... for a gift?"
"In general. Maybe he wants a quiet night in. Maybe he doesn't want anything."
"But-"
"No matter what, he definitely would not want you to be doing anything that makes you break down in the middle of the day like this."
"I didn't break down," Saitama protested, but it sounded weak even to him.
"You're doing this for him, but you don't even know for sure if he wants it. And think about how awful he'd feel if you can't keep it together all weekend and he finds out how miserable you've been."
Dammit, that was a really good point. "Okay," Saitama sighed. "I'll... ask him."
Saitama came home to a dark apartment. This was worrying; it had been hours since Genos left to fight that big snake or whatever. If the apartment was dark... if he wasn't home...
A small selfish part of Saitama kind of hoped he was out for repairs. That he wouldn't get home until the 26th. And he hated that part of himself more than he could put into words, but...
Saitama didn't say anything as he came through the door. Years of living alone had destroyed a lot of the politeness that should have been habit. But when he saw Genos sitting in the middle of the room, wrapped in Saitama's heart comforter, he kicked off his shoes and announced, “I'm home.”
Genos threw off the comforter and assumed seiza. Saitama started to tell him not to bother, but then he saw the dark tear tracks down Genos' cheeks and forgot everything else.
“What's wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing, sensei.” Genos' voice was a normal pitch, but Saitama knew him well enough to hear the sorrow in it.
“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
“No, sensei, I'm undamaged.”
Saitama settled in front of him on the floor, so close their knees brushed as he arranged his legs comfortably. “Then why the tears, bud?”
Genos attempted a wobbly smile. “You're the one who told me I was a crybaby, sensei.”
Guilt clutched at Saitama's chest. “I was... I was just kidding you. You know that, right?”
“I know, sensei. I'm fine, really. I'm sorry for worrying you.”
“Okay...” Saitama hadn't thought to turn on the lights, and the room was illuminated only by Genos' eyes and the mismatched Christmas lights on the balcony. The sight of them reminded Saitama of his promise to Mumen... and made him want to rip them down. “Um. So. I was wondering.”
“Yes, sensei?”
“What do you want to do for Christmas Eve? You know, for a date.”
It looked like Genos winced, but that couldn't be right. Probably a trick of the light. “Whatever you want to do, sensei.”
“I- I don't really have any ideas. You gotta help me out here.”
Genos shook his head, reaching up to wipe his cheeks. “I'm fine with anything, sensei. What do you want?”
Saitama pinched the bridge of his nose. “This isn't one of those things where you want me to figure it out, right? You really don't care what we do?”
“I don't have a preference.”
“Well I don't want to do anything,” Saitama blurted.
He regretted it immediately, but there was something odd in Genos' expression. He almost looked relieved.
“We don't have to, sensei.”
“It's our first Christmas as a couple! It's my first Christmas with anybody in like a decade!”
Genos blinked, a little more oil dripping from his eyes. “Sensei?”
“I...” He'd promised Mumen. And Genos would feel terrible if he found out later. Saitama had to keep reminding himself of that. “I kind of... hate Christmas.”
Genos was quiet for a moment. From somewhere, he produced a handkerchief to better wipe his face. “Why didn't you tell me, sensei?”
“'Cause, it's awkward. I thought you'd want to do the couple thing.” Saitama shrugged one shoulder. “It's not your fault Christmas just brings up bad memories for me.”
“I wouldn't want to do anything that makes you unhappy.”
“Well I want to do everything that makes you happy, so...”
Genos shook his head. There was still oil gumming up his eyelashes. “I can't stop thinking.”
“Huh?”
“About Christmas. About...” He looked at the balcony, at the lights twinkling there. “We had ones like that. Cheap. Mismatched. I can't remember, not well, but... I can't stop the parts I can.” Genos took a slow breath, shaky and uneven. “I think I hate Christmas too, sensei. I want the memories of my family to be happy, but it's not when it's like this. It's too much.”
Saitama reached over and took his hand. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“You put up decorations. I thought you liked it. I didn't want to...” Genos' fingers curled around Saitama's palm.
“You know what?” Saitama said, surprising both of them. “Fuck it. Fuck Christmas. In this apartment, there is nothing special at all about the next few days.”
Genos smiled. It was still wobbly, but it didn't look forced. “Really?”
“Is that okay?”
“It's perfectly okay, sensei.”
Saitama gave his hand another squeeze and hopped up. “First, I'm just chucking those lights in the street. Then, do you want to incinerate the wreath?”
“I would like that, sensei,” Genos said with the same firmness he used when discussing battle strategy. “I would like that very much.”