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Christmas wasn’t much as a kid. No, it wasn’t anything. Just a day. The holiday season got brighter, after meeting Kyoutarou-Sensei, but still.
It wasn’t normal. Emu knew that. He’s intelligent, it just so happens. And he didn’t have nearly enough supervision as a child to retain innocence .
(It’s kind of sad, really. He tries not to think about it. To think about his imaginary best friend he didn’t learn was real until less than a year ago. His imaginary best friend who was split, was broken, grew bitter and aloof as Emu calmed down and forced himself to be kind . To be the man he needed when he was 6.)
And then he grew up.
Christmas got worse.
(Kiriya dying, turning to pixels right in front of him. It burns its way into Emu’s nightmares. He couldn’t even save someone he cared about , even if he got him back.
It spirals and spirals as the one year anniversary nears.)
And now, here it is coming up on the day again, and Emu just doesn’t know what to think.
“Emu…”
“Yeah?”
Parado is making his puppy dog eyes. Damn it. Why is his face so expressive?
“What’s wrong?” Parado asks.
Oh, so many things.
“It’s the holidays,” Emu settles on. That seems like a good summary. Of about 30 different emotions, roughly 25 of which Parado is privy to even outside their bond.
“Ah,” Parado says. “That’ll do it.”
“It’s fine,” Emu says. “No reason to to assume it’ll go anything but something similar to normal, this time. No one’s dead or dying. Or missing.”
Parado winces, his hand twitching like he wants to physically grab hold of Emu. It’s been two years alone, for him.
Alone. Again. Right when they finally reunited.
“You and I,” Emu says, before pausing. “…and probably Poppy and Kiriya. Are going to have a great Christmas.”
(Perfect, hopefully. Emu’s past expecting too many good things, by now.)
Emu thinks he managed to get flour all over his face, making cookies. He’s not entirely sure how , but he’s never mad them before, so shut up .
(He is not a good cook, honestly. Never had the time, and survived most of his life off of fast food, instant food, and… an unholy mix of energy drinks and caffeine.)
Parado is even worse off, what with his black coat. But he laughs, when the cookies they made in the shape of Mighty (Emu didn’t know they even made Mighty cookie cutters, honestly) don’t come out completely terrible.
So. There’s some progress.
“I wanna learn how to make cookies,” Parado says. “Seems like fun. Hey Lazer, can you help?”
Kiriya shrugs.
“I don’t see why not,” he says.
There’s a patient. Of course there’s a patient. Why is there a patient?
“And why are you in level one?” Parado asks, green tinsel forming a Hyper Muteki-like collection of hair around Knockout Fighter’s head, more hanging from just about everywhere.
It’s kind of comedic.
“I don’t know, ” Emu says. “It just does this— also. Bigger problems.”
“…point.”
“At least you get to transform,” Poppy says. “I didn’t even have my suit last year, so I thought it’d go on top of the suit!”
“It was still pretty cool, though,” Kiriya points out.
Poppy smiles.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “I love the Pimple Pell dress.”
Parado hands Emu like 10 presents, which Emu definitely has questions about.
“I had two years to think about this,” Parado says, handing three to Poppy.
“So what about New Years?” Parado asks. “I know we did it at Kyotaro-Sensei’s house when we were a little kid, but…”
Emu pauses.
“Right,” he says. “That’s also a thing we need to do. I am so tired.”
So much extra work because of CR. Good work, important work, definitely, but a lot of work.
Parado laughs.
“I guess it’s my turn, then,” he says. “I can figure it out. Don’t worry.”
“…I’ll hold you to it, then.”
As long as it’s not a total disaster, Emu’s sure it’ll be fine.
He trusts Parado, after all. Finally, they can just… be.