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“I’m going for you,” Giyu says. “Not for anyone else.”
“But they’ll be glad to see you too, Giyu!” says Kyojuro. “They don’t hate you the way you think they do.”
Giyu makes a noncommittal sound. In one hand, he holds their contribution of two-liter soft drink bottles by the necks; in the other hand he has Kyojuro’s.
Kyojuro squeezes his hand and rubs his thumb over Giyu’s. “I mean it! You’ll see. And if you want to go home, we’ll go home.”
Kyojuro’s voice echoes loudly in the stairwell as they climb. They’re in the stairwell because the Kocho sisters were getting on the elevator. Giyu is willing to brave the neighborhood Christmas party, but only if Kocho Shinobu isn’t the first line of defense he has to breach.
“No,” says Giyu softly. “I’m not bothered. I don’t mind.”
And it’s true, he really doesn’t; Kyojuro is humming and swinging their hands between them, and he’s wearing a red Santa hat whose furry brim keeps sliding into his eyes. There was a matching sweater. Giyu’s appropriated it because it smells like Kyojuro.
When they reach their destination, they enter a bubble of bright lights and chatter and warm air. The room is packed with people. The air smells of fried chicken. A massive tree with its too-tall top slightly bent against the ceiling stands in the corner. Strings of lights and tinsel cover so much of the furniture that Giyu wonders if it’s a fire hazard. This is the Ubuyashiki family’s place, but Kanroji Mitsuri being deputized as a decorating assistant couldn’t possibly be more evident.
“You made it! That’s great!” calls Kanroji with a smile as soon as they walk in the door. “Merry Christmas, Rengoku! Merry Christmas, Tomioka!”
“Merry Christmas, Kanroji!” Kyojuro says loudly.
Giyu is so startled at being noticed by name that he doesn’t manage to respond before she turns away.
“See?” Kyojuro chirps, grinning at him, pulling him over towards the food. “I told you people would be happy to see you!”
“Kanroji is happy to see everyone,” says Giyu, but he dips his head, warm in the face.
In the process of changing the direction in which he’s looking, however, he notices Kocho Shinobu marching towards them. Her mouth is smiling but her eyes are not, and she has one fist clenched.
Giyu’s not scared of a girl who is light enough to go to the moon if he accidentally knocked into her. But she has a habit of prodding him, and he would rather not deal with any unnecessary social friction tonight.
“Kyojuro,” says Giyu hurriedly, before she comes over to tell him that no one likes him, “you said you wanted to introduce me to some of your acquaintances.” He steels himself; this is the lesser of two evils.
Kyojuro follows his gaze and winks at him. “That’s right! If we can’t find them, we’ll make some new ones.” He forges into the fray, towing Giyu by the hand.
All told, it’s not bad to be introduced to Kyojuro’s countless acquaintances with “This is my boyfriend, Tomioka Giyu, love of my life!” and Kyojuro smiling warmly right at him. Giyu wants to tell him to look at the people they’re talking to, but finds that he’s no better. He couldn’t contribute to the conversation even if he wanted to. When Kyojuro talks, he takes up all of his attention. (When Kyojuro breathes, he takes up all of Giyu’s attention.)
Kyojuro pulls him aside after they duck out of a conversation with one of his coworkers. “Hey, you okay?” He tucks a lock of Giyu’s hair behind his ear.
“I’m fine,” says Giyu. “…This isn’t so bad. You were right.”
“I’m glad!” Kyojuro stiffens, gaze locked on something over Giyu’s shoulder. “Uh-oh.”
Giyu barely has to ask. Unless Shinazugawa has left the confectionery table or Iguro has broken his Kyojuro-sponsored truce of being civil to Giyu, there’s only one person it could be. “It’s Kocho again, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry, we can still lose her,” Kyojuro whispers, or in what passes as a whisper for Kyojuro. His eyes dance with mischief. He tugs Giyu back around the nearest group of people, their loud laughter covering their passage, and into the end of the room next to the wall.
Giyu makes a split-second decision and pulls Kyojuro back into the corner behind the massive tree.
In two seconds, he sees Kocho walk past through the branches. She pauses for a full ten seconds, her eyes sweeping the area.
At last she makes a frustrated huff and turns around. After she’s been gone for a few seconds, Giyu slumps against the wall, Kyojuro leaning against him.
He hears a snort and finds Kyojuro giggling into his neck.
Giyu’s lips twitch despite himself.
Kyojuro noses against his cheek, still grinning. There’s tinsel in his hair. “Maybe we should just stay back here, huh? I get you all to myself here.”
Giyu leans in to kiss him deep and slow, trying to pour every ounce of his affection and gratefulness into his touch. He sucks gently at Kyojuro’s lower lip and lets it spring back. “No. Let’s go.”
To be fair, no one else has seemed particularly annoyed by Giyu’s presence yet. People are smiling at him and laughing around him and Kyojuro is here, in his arms, and Giyu is warm and fed and frankly, things could be worse. Apart from Kocho, the only snag he’s hit is that one of the bell-like buttons on Kyojuro’s sweater has fallen off of him somewhere during the party. If this is the worst of it, Giyu can definitely finish out the night.
Kyojuro looks a little dazed, still looking at him softly, lips wet and eyes glassy, so this time it’s Giyu who pulls him out into the party.
They manage to continue to avoid Kocho in the throng of people. When Giyu is leaning against Kyojuro’s back some time later, face in his shoulder and listening to one of the other partygoers absolutely murdering the karaoke machine, he’s not thinking about how he feels like an outsider who doesn’t deserve to even say the word “party.” He’s mostly thinking that Kyojuro is warm, and that Giyu wants to go home and bury his face in Kyojuro’s hair and go to sleep.
He feels Kyojuro shifting in front of him and frowns.
“Are you tired, Giyu?”
“…Yes,” mumbles Giyu.
“Let’s go out on the balcony. It’s too hot in here, huh?”
The cold night air wakes Giyu up. They stand elbow to elbow at the railing. Giyu watches Kyojuro, the way the night breeze whips his hair, the glimmering of his eyes as he watches the city lights. He catches Giyu watching and smiles. He settles his head on Giyu’s shoulder.
“Hey, Rengoku!” someone calls from inside. “You’re a history teacher, right? We’re playing trivia; come answer this one for us.”
“Maybe some other—”
“No, it’s okay,” Giyu says.
Kyojuro looks at him with wide eyes. “What? Are you sure? But—”
Giyu squeezes his arm. “I’m okay.”
Kyojuro kisses Giyu quickly. “Be right back.”
I love you, thinks Giyu, watching him go. I love you so much.
Someone puts a small hand on the doorframe leading out to the balcony. “There you are, Tomioka,” says Kocho sweetly. Her fist is once again clenched.
Giyu regards her warily. She’s not strong enough to stop him from pushing past her and walking away. But on the other hand, Sabito’s frequent admonitions about being a man are flashing into his mind. Then again, Sabito, far off visiting family for New Year’s, doesn’t have to know. But to play devil’s advocate once more, Giyu’s been having a surprisingly nice night. Perhaps he should just take his chances.
“What is it?” he says.
“I know you’ve been avoiding me all night,” she says. She holds out her hand, opening her fist. “But here. You dropped one of the bells from that awful thing, that’s all. Tell your boyfriend to buy less ugly sweaters, okay?”
Giyu stares down at it, the garish yellow metal glinting, and then at the loose threads on his own front. “Oh.” He takes it slowly. “…How do you know it’s his?”
She looks at the ceiling. “It’s too big on you. Plus, he’s wearing the matching hat.” She sighs and turns to go back inside, silhouetted by the light from indoors. “Merry Christmas, Tomioka.”
“Merry Christmas,” Giyu echoes.
Huh.
Barely five seconds have passed before Kyojuro pokes his head back out, looking frantic. “I’m sorry, Giyu! I didn’t realize—What did she say to you?”
Giyu presses the bell into his hand. “She just gave me this. It fell off.”
Kyojuro’s shoulders relax. “I see. So—she was nice to you today.” His smile returns.
Inside, the karaoke machine has been shut off. Someone is snoring on the couch. Giyu suddenly remembers that he feels drained—not unpleasantly so, but drained nonetheless.
“I guess so.” Giyu takes his hand. His skin is very warm. “Let’s go home.” He leans in close to whisper into Kyojuro’s ear. “You’ve taken care of me all night. Let’s go home. Let me take care of you.”
Kyojuro shivers. They very nearly forget their coats on the way out.
“Mm, hey, it’s snowing!” Kyojuro mumbles with delight. His fingers absently trace Giyu’s spine underneath the blankets.
Giyu nuzzles his cheek into Kyojuro’s bare chest. He doesn’t need to look. Kyojuro in his vision is more than enough.