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Hitoka might be freaking out.
It’s the twenty fifth- Christmas Day- and she’s not finished with her gift yet.
(Scratch that- she is definitely freaking out.)
A harassed noise leaves her and Hitoka whines when her hook snags on yarn, hurriedly rights it and gets back to her treble crochet. She’s so close to being finished, but there are a million worries zipping through her mind and she can’t believe she was egotistical enough to decide to make a sweater as a gift.
Oh, this was such a bad idea.
Hitoka looks down at the pile of yarn in her lap and frowns. The lump of stress in her throat grows more and she bites her lip as she strokes her fingers over the nearly completed sweater, tries to ignore the anxiety making her heart beat fast.
Okay. Okay. She only has a few more (okay, maybe more than a few) rows to finish and then all she has to do is weave in the ends and package it up.
And it’ll be okay. It’ll be fine. It’ll be great.
Totally.
With a groan, Hitoka picks up her hook again and begins to crochet.
She’s going to throw up.
She finished the sweater just in time- he showed up literally two minutes after Hitoka had hastily packaged it up- and she’s still coming down from that frantic, heart pounding rush.
And now there’s just worry.
Worry over whether or not he’ll like it, if the colors are okay. If the yarn is soft enough. If it fits.
It should fit. She made it slightly larger just in case- she knew he had been working out more and was gaining bulk. It should be okay, hopefully.
Unless...
Unless it’s too large and he hates that there’s a bit of room and, oh god, why did she think a sweater was a good idea?
Hitoka swallows the distressed noise that threatens to leave her and curls her hands up tight in her lap instead, tries to force a smile when he looks over at her.
This is a disaster. She can’t even enjoy this time with him. Stupid. She should have made something less stressful. A sweater is too much for a first Christmas together gift.
“Are you alright?”
The sudden question makes Hitoka jump and she hastily rights herself, smiles too brightly and nods in an effort to hide away her stress.
“I’m fine! I- I’m fine,” she squeaks. A mental groan goes off and Hitoka takes a deep breath to calm down, scales her smile back to something less obvious. “I, um, should we exchange presents now?”
He looks her over, some concern in the subtle way his brows move closer. He nods, though, and Hitoka smiles at him before closing her eyes for a moment. She tries to calm herself, to banish the stress that makes her heart want to burst. It’s futile, though, and Hitoka feels misery course through her as she follows him over to the small Christmas tree she has tucked in the corner of her apartment.
God, this is so strange and nerve wracking. She’s never had anyone to spend Christmas with like this and she has no idea if she’s doing things right. She knows that his family doesn’t really celebrate the holiday. And she knows that he’s only really experienced the festivities through friends. He had seemed amiable and interested enough when she suggested they celebrate together. But maybe...maybe he’s just doing it for her? Oh, god- what if he’s only doing it for her? Did he not want to celebrate? Does he not like this? Is he bored? Is it lame to him? Oh god oh god oh god oh god-
“Hitoka.”
Hitoka squeaks and she jumps, head snapping up to stare at him with wide eyes. There is more concern on his face and Hitoka flushes in embarrassment over it, ducks her head and takes a small breath.
“Sorry,” she tells him. “I just...got distracted.”
Hitoka peeks up at him and watches him nod, bites her lip when he turns to pick up the present he brought her from under the tree. She moves to do the same and casts an anxious smile his way, grips his present just a bit too tight.
Oh, god, please let this work out.
They exchange presents and Hitoka looks down at the wrapping paper, the small tag in the corner. It reads "From: Ushijima Wakatoshi, To: Yachi Hitoka" and Yachi has to stifle a giggle at that, smiles despite her anxiety and stress and hides it behind her hand.
How formal. It’s just like him to do something like that.
The reprieve from her stress only lasts a moment. Ushijima looks over at her after studying his present and tilts his head, asks, “Do we open them at the same time?”
Oh, no, it’s time.
And she hadn’t even thought about that. Should they open it at the same time? If she has to watch his reaction, she’ll die. But if she doesn’t see if he likes it or not, she’ll also die.
Oh, god. Oh, hell.
Hitoka dithers and she swallows hard, fretting over the decision.
“I…” she starts, trying not to groan. “I…um, why don’t we take turns?”
Ushijima nods, plainly uncaring, and Hitoka bites her lip when he glances down at the present in his hands.
“Open yours,” he tells her, looking back over. “And I’ll open mine after.”
“Oh,” Hitoka says, mildly surprised. She glances down at the box she’s holding and then looks up at him, nods. “Thank you.”
She hadn’t even thought about his gift to her. If Hitoka is being honest, she has no idea what he got her. She’s been too busy fretting over his present to give any thought as to what she might receive.
What did he get her?
Curiosity swells and Yachi forgets her stress for a moment, carefully begins to undo the neat wrapping around her present. There is a far off thought wondering if Ushijima wrapped it on his own, but she doesn’t pay any attention to it- she’s much more focused on finding out what her (admittedly a bit clueless and hopelessly practical) boyfriend got her.
The wrapping falls away to reveal a plain box and Hitoka lifts the lid, huffs fondly when she needs to pull out tissue paper as well.
And then she gasps.
“You said you wanted one like this,” Ushijima explains. “But that they were too expensive for you to justify buying for yourself. I thought it might be a good present if you weren’t going to purchase it personally.”
Hitoka stares with wide eyes down into the box and picks up the wooden hook that’s nestled between various colored skeins of her favorite yarn. It’s smooth and slightly cool when she holds it, absolutely perfect in her hand. She’s never felt a hook so right in her hold and it’s so comfortable and the rosewood is so pretty and- oh, oh, oh it has her initials in the handle and little stars and oh it’s so perfect.
Perfect, and too much. Too expensive, too sweet, too wonderful. He even got her yarn, too, and this is- this is too much. Too good of a present.
Hers is going to be such a disappointment.
Hitoka sniffles, eyes beginning to sting and well up with tears. Another sniffle sounds from her and she tries to push back the way drop are threatening to fall from her eyes, curls her hand up tight so she doesn’t rub her eyes and smear her makeup.
“Do you...not like it?” Ushijima asks. Hitoka’s head snaps up and her eyes widen when she sees him- her confident, always so sure of himself boyfriend- looking uncertain. He frowns a little, brows scrunching together, and looks down at the yarn and neatly set aside packaging. “Is it not what you wanted?”
“No!” Hitoka yelps, hastily trying to reassure him and banish away his worry. God, he doesn’t need to worry- it’s perfect.
Ushijima’s eyes widen a little and Hitoka realizes her mistake, grips the hook tighter and presses it to her chest.
“That’s not- I didn’t mean,” she flounders. She groans internally and breathes deeply, smiles at him even if she hates herself for making him a present that could never, ever be as good as his. “It’s perfect, Wakatoshi. I love it so much. I don’t- I don’t even have words to describe how amazing this is. I...It’s overwhelming. You didn’t have to do this.”
Ushijima relaxes, uncertainty vanishing and being replaced by a faintly pleased expression, and he looks over at her, shakes his head.
“You wanted it,” he tells her. “I wanted to get you something you would enjoy.”
Oh, oh he’s too sweet.
Tears sting more fiercely in her eyes and Hitoka sniffles again, swiping at them even if it’s going to ruin her makeup. She smiles at him despite it and the embarrassment flaring in her heart, leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you,” she mumbles. “Thank you so much.”
Ushijima smiles, ever so faintly, and looks down at the box in front of him, places a hand on it and looks up at her.
“Can I open it now?” he asks.
Oh. Oh, no. Oh no it’s time.
Hitoka gulps and she gives a nod, clutches at her hook tighter as her heart starts to pound with nerves.
“I- It’s not as good as your present,” Hitoka tells him nervously, apologizing as he methodically unwraps it. “I didn’t- I didn’t know what to get you and I thought maybe it could be...nice? But it’s- it’s just- I can get you something else. I- If you don’t like it I can-”
She cuts herself off as he reaches into the box, stares at him with anxious eyes and knuckles whitened with worry.
He’s quiet as he plucks the sweater from the box, silent as he holds it up and looks it over. Hitoka already wants to cry over her failure of a present and it’s making it that much worse that he’s not saying anything, that his expression hasn’t changed.
He hates it. He hates it.
Tears threaten to spill and Hitoka feels her face scrunch up, that awful sting of being a disappointment.
The colors are wrong. She should have picked a solid color. It was dumb to mix Shiratorizawa purple and white with the dark blue of Kyoto University. Of course he doesn’t like the way she flecked his high school colors throughout the large mass of his university color. That was so dumb. It’s not his style at all. God- god she messed up. She should have just made him a scarf or mittens or got him some fancy volleyball gear or-
“These are my school colors. Shiratorizawa and Kyoto.”
Hitoka jerks her head up, surprised by the uncharacteristic softness in his voice, and watches as he carefully pulls the sweater over his head. Her heart flutters in relief when it fits, but nerves quickly crush it when he looks over at her again, smooths his hands down his front.
“I- ye-yeah,” Hitoka mumbles to him, heart twisting in apprehension. “I thought...I thought it would be a good color scheme. I’m sorry. I know it’s different from what you normally wear. If you don’t like it that’s-”
“I like it,” Ushijima cuts in firmly. Hitoka’s eyes widen and Ushijima’s lips twitch into a small smile as he looks down at the sweater. “It’s nice and it’s comfortable. I’ve been needing a new sweater.” He looks up at her again and Hitoka can swear that his eyes are warm, a bit soft. “You made this for me. You worked hard on this.”
Hitoka nods, throat moving in a swallow as light disbelief flutters through her.
He likes it. He...likes it. It’s not- it’s not fancy and expensive but he likes it.
“I...yeah,” she tells him, almost a bit dazed. “I only just finished it today…” She shakes her head, guilt coursing through her, and bites her lip as Ushijima lifts an arm and studies the sleeve. “I know...I know it’s not as grand as your gift…” Hitoka clutches the crochet hook tighter and takes a deep breath, tries to slow her still racing heart. “But- but I can get you something else to go along with it…?”
Something like a huff leaves Ushijima and he looks over at her, shakes his head.
“It’s perfect,” he tells her. “I don’t want anything else.”
“Are- are you sure?” Hitoka asks him, nervously. “I- I had a few other ideas…”
Ushijima shakes his head again and leans toward her, cups her cheek with his hand. She flushes when he kisses her lightly and slumps, just a bit, as her worry begins to bleed away.
“I’m sure,” he says, firmly. He kisses her forehead before moving to sit up properly and Hitoka flushes a bit more, slowly loosens her death grip on her crochet hook. “Thank you, Hitoka.”
Ushijima pauses for a moment, looking a tad unsure, and then adds on an almost questioning, “Merry Christmas?”
Hitoka’s lips twitch into a smile and she hides a small giggle, looks over at him with a soft smile.
“Merry Christmas, Wakatoshi.”