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“Wait!”
Shuichi Saihara ran after the bus, feet bogged down by the surprise snowfall that had started earlier that afternoon and had yet to relent. He clutched his takeout bag close to his chest, but his efforts were in vain; the bus pulled away from the stop without him on it.
He let out a huff of frustration, then slowed his step. There was no point in running anymore. The next bus wouldn’t arrive for another fifteen minutes, which meant he was stuck at the bus stop with his Christmas Eve dinner until then.
Perhaps things wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d thought to wear a different jacket. The weather report hadn’t called for any snow, and the day had felt mild when he’d stepped out the front door for work that morning. Now, however, snow fell steadily from the clouds overhead, and a sharp wind blew through often enough to tangle his hair and rattle him to his bones.
Just perfect.
Shuichi reached the bus shelter and collapsed onto the bench. The bag of KFC was still warm, and he’d cherish that warmth for as long as he could. He tucked the paper bag against his chest, cradling the thing like an infant. The heat of the freshly fried chicken spread through his body, providing at least somewhat of a reprieve from the winter chill. He let out a contented sigh.
Unfortunately, the heat didn’t last long. Within a minute or two the chill had returned, the hair on his arms and neck standing on end as he tried to fight off the cold of the winter storm. He bent forward, now cradling himself in an attempt to stay as warm as possible. His left leg bobbed steadily up and down in an attempt to generate more body heat.
“Shuichi?”
He looked up at the sound of his name, nearly dropping his dinner. He didn’t know very many people, and those he did were likely already at home celebrating with friends or family. He’d agreed to work late that night, not having anyone to return home to to celebrate with.
A large figure loomed over him. A man with dark, unruly hair, round glasses, and an expression of confusion painted onto his face.
“Gonta?”
Everyone in their apartment building knew Gonta Gokuhara. It was hard not to after the “Butterfly Incident” in September. He lived two floors above Shuichi, and apparently kept a number of insects as pets. They passed each other in the elevators sometimes, their daily schedules running parallel to one another. They shared casual conversation and polite head nods, but nothing more than that.
Until today, apparently.
“I thought that Shuichi,” he said, his lips parting into a smile. “Shuichi picking up Christmas dinner too?” He held his own KFC bag aloft, gloved hands gripping the food tightly. It was clear that Gonta had come prepared for the winter weather.
“Yeah,” Shuichi replied simply. “I’m just trying to get h- home.” His breath caught on the cold air.
Gonta’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why Shuichi not wearing a coat?” he asked, taking a step closer.
“I, uh, didn’t know it was supposed to get this bad,” Shuichi said. “And then I missed the bus and I– whoa!”
He didn’t even have a chance to finish his sentence before Gonta was throwing his own jacket over Shuichi’s shoulders. It was a nice grey overcoat, likely expensive given how quickly it seemed to shield Shuichi from the chill in the air.
“What are you doing?” he asked, peering up at Gonta with wide eyes.
“Gonta not really need coat,” he replied, “but Shuichi look cold! So Gonta will give Shuichi his coat. Like a gentleman.”
“Wow, Gonta. Are you sure?” Part of him didn’t want to complain. It was an instant relief to have the warm wool wrapped around his body. Still, the memory of the cold wasn’t a distant one. He looked up at his companion with concern.
“Gonta not have much need for coat,” he replied simply. “Gonta used to being outside in any kind of weather! Coat just makes Gonta look nice and respectable.”
If that was the look he was going for, he’d certainly reached it. Underneath his overcoat the man was dressed in a button down shirt, a red and green argyle sweater vest, a red tie, and a tan blazer. His pants were meticulously pressed and pleated and his shoes…
“Gonta, are you wearing sandals?”
The man smiled sheepishly, glancing away from Shuichi. “Gonta not like the feeling of proper shoes,” he admitted. “Gonta always wear sandals, even in winter! Gonta not even mind the cold!”
Shuichi was beginning to believe him. While his hands still shook, fingers grasping tight to the bag of fried chicken, Gonta looked perfectly content. Perhaps warm, even. Shuichi couldn’t help but smile; it was an impressive feat, really.
“You’re an interesting guy, aren’t you?” he commented.
Gonta’s smile faltered. “What Shuichi mean by that?”
“I just meant you’re kind of… different. The sandals, and the butterflies… I’ve never known anyone else quite like you.”
“Oh, okay,” Gonta replied, his shoulders dropping as he released a hot breath and allowed his smile to return to his face. “Gonta’s butterflies not so strange, though. Gonta is entomologist! That means he work with bugs!”
“Oh,” Shuichi said, eyebrows raising. He wasn’t necessarily squeamish about bugs, but he wasn’t the sort to befriend them either. He’d try for humane release as often as he could, but he couldn’t imagine having any insects living in his apartment, caged or otherwise.
“Most people not like bugs,” Gonta continued, hands tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of his blazer, “but Gonta used to that by now. It not bugs’ fault that they might look scary or seem dangerous…”
Shuichi wondered if they were even talking about bugs anymore.
Gonta released another breath, shaking his head, dark, wavy locks flying about his face. “What about Shuichi? What you do for work?”
“I’m, ah, a private detective,” Shuichi responded, gaze flickering towards his feet.
“A private detective?” Gonta repeated. “Just like Detective Conan?”
Shuichi felt his cheeks grow hot. “Something like that.”
“Wow!” Gonta said, bending down to pat Shuichi on the back. “That so cool! What kind of cases Shuichi solve?”
“Oh, you know…” He always felt so uncomfortable talking about his job, all eyes on him. It always sounded so much more impressive than it actually was, and people expected Shuichi to be not only a good detective but a good storyteller too. “Just the usual stuff. Nothing too exciting. Affairs and money laundering. Background checks.” And murder, but he didn’t like to talk about that stuff. The memory of his first case as a teen was one that still kept him up at night. Anyone that came to his agency for assistance with a murder case was immediately turned away.
“Shuichi must be very smart!” Gonta continued. “Gonta wish he smart like that.”
Shuichi’s brows furrowed. “Aren’t you a scientist, Gonta?” he asked. “Don’t you need a degree to do your kind of work?”
“Gonta only smart when it come to bugs,” he replied simply.
“I… don’t think that’s true.”
A long pause followed. “Really?” Gonta finally asked.
“Really,” Shuichi replied, craning his neck to seek out the tall man’s red eyes. “You seem very smart to me.”
Gonta opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced by a horn blaring. Both men turned to look at the road, the city bus sitting in front of them with the door wide open.
The bus driver glared out at them, scarf wound tight around his neck and his breath beginning to frost. “Are you comin’ or what?” he shouted.
Shuichi scrambled to his feet. Standing up, the difference in their height was even more apparent. The coat hung past his knees, the arms falling to cover his hands. He felt like a little boy playing dress up in his father’s closet, trying on all the tuxedos he owned from movie premieres and photoshoots alike, praying that he wouldn’t be caught.
Today, however, that same sense of anxiety had been washed away – at least somewhat – by Gonta’s kind, carefree attitude.
The two hurried onto the bus, the door closing behind them as Gonta tried to apologize to the driver. He either didn’t hear it or didn’t care to – they began moving again before either of them had taken their seats. Shuichi slid into the closest available spot, which wasn’t hard to find on Christmas Eve. Anyone who was smart enough would already be bundled up inside, halfway through their Christmas dinner or already exchanging presents.
Shuichi took a moment to settle into his seat, bag clutched against his body for dear life. The driver wasn’t taking any precautions in the blustery weather, the bus roaring down the snow-covered streets and nearly skidding on a left turn. He reached out with one hand to grab at the empty seat in front of him.
“So, Gonta,” his voice shook as the bus pushed through the barely plowed roads. “Are you celebrating alone tonight?”
“Gonta not alone if you count his insect friends,” he replied quickly. “There’s butterflies, and crickets, and Rhinoceros beetle.”
Shuichi’s grip on the seat tightened. “And if you don’t count the insects.”
Gonta hesitated, eyes glancing out the clouded windows. “Then Gonta celebrate alone.”
Shuichi’s heart lurched. As a detective asking hard questions was second nature; but as a person, he’d always felt uncomfortable invading the privacy of others. Oftentimes his anxiety outweighed his curiosity, but tonight felt different. It wasn’t quite curiosity that drove his next question, but rather a sense of kinship in his neighbour.
“What about your family?”
Gonta kept his gaze glued to the storm brewing outside the bus. “Gonta not have one of those. Not really. Is… complicated.”
Shuichi forced a laugh. “Yeah, I know all about complicated.”
The bus came to a screeching halt at the next stop, and an older woman shuffled on holding a bouquet of flowers. Shuichi offered her a polite smile as she took a seat at the front of the bus. Gonta continued to face the window.
He didn’t speak until the bus started moving again.
“Shuichi celebrating alone tonight?” Gonta asked, his voice soft.
“Yeah,” Shuichi replied, mouth dry. “I, ah, don’t really talk to my parents.” Or, rather, they didn’t talk to him. He’d spent so many years trying, only to be faced with heartbreak after heartbreak. Eventually, he’d forced himself to move on – it was clear they already had. Now anything he knew about his parents came from the tabloids or social media reports. They were complete strangers to him, and while he didn’t necessarily miss them the holiday season always reminded him of what he’d lost out on.
His uncle, on the other hand, he missed with every fiber of his being. A motorcycle accident had taken him three years prior, and Shuichi had been forced to step up and run the detective agency. His uncle had been more of a father to him than his own biological father ever had been, and Christmas was tough without him around.
Somehow, though, Shuichi had always managed.
He didn’t realize they’d lapsed into such a silence until it was too late. Any remnant of holiday cheer seemed to have been sapped from both men as the bus careened around another corner, carrying them back to their apartment and their lonely nights ahead.
Shuichi wrapped Gonta’s jacket tighter around his arms, his left leg bobbing in both an attempt to keep warm and a means of releasing his nervous energy. Without even turning away from the window, Gonta placed a gentle hand against Shuichi’s thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.
He didn’t need to worry about being cold any longer; the deep blush on his cheeks was enough to keep him warm until the bus stopped down the street from their building.
Gonta was the first to rise, and if it weren’t for him Shuichi may have missed their stop altogether – his mind was a mess of memories of his uncle, thoughts of his parents, and a constant reminder that Gonta’s hand was still on his thigh.
Shuichi clambered out of his seat, head ducked as he made his way for the back door of the bus.
“Thank you!” Gonta called as they exited, his arm lifted in a wave of recognition towards the bus driver. “Merry Christmas!”
The bus driver grumbled something in response, but the tone seemed lighter than it had when they’d first entered the bus. A smile tugged at the corner of Shuichi’s lips. He clutched Gonta’s jacket tighter as they stepped out into the snow, thankful that their building was only half a block from the bus stop. If Shuichi dared to look up through the blistering storm surely he’d be able to see it.
As it was Gonta had taken the lead, and his large form did a rather decent job of keeping Shuichi protected from the wind.
“The final stretch!” Shuichi joked, a small laugh rising from his chest.
“What?” Gonta shouted, turning back to look at him.
“I was just saying we’re almost home!” Shuichi replied, voice rising above the sound of the wind whipping past them. “I’ll need to give you back your coat.”
Gonta’s pace slowed. “Shuichi can keep it.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“For a little while,” Gonta continued, nodding his head. “Gonta not need coat very often, but Shuichi seem forgetful.”
“I’m not forgetful!” he replied.
Gonta chuckled. “Gonta just want to keep Shuichi warm.”
Shuichi felt his cheeks heat up at that comment, clutching his takeout bag closer. Why was he suddenly so flustered about everything Gonta said?
The walkway up to the apartment building was covered in a thick layer of snow, halfway up to Shuichi’s knees. Even with Gonta’s large feet leaving a partial path up the walk, Shuichi felt like he was stepping through thick molasses. He should have had the forethought to wear a pair of boots as well.
Shuichi paused as the pair reached the front door. “I normally take the side way up,” he said, glancing to his right. The side stairs were closer to his apartment, and he liked the privacy they provided. Besides, the front entrance led right by the common area where he knew the superintendent was in the midst of throwing her annual building Christmas party. He wouldn’t want all eyes on him as he slunk towards the elevators with his KFC.
“Thank you for the coat,” he continued, glancing back at Gonta. “And, ah, Merry Christmas.” He offered the taller man an awkward smile, then ducked his head as he walked towards the side door.
“Shuichi, wait!”
He’d barely made it five steps before Gonta was calling out to him. He hesitated, grip tightening on his bag of food.
“Would Shuichi… want to spend Christmas Eve with Gonta?”
His heart hammered ferociously in his chest. His cheeks flared with warmth as he turned back to face Gonta. His own cheeks were tinged with pink.
“If Shuichi have no one else to celebrate with, then Gonta would be honoured to spend Christmas Eve with him!”
He spoke with such earnest conviction that there was no way Shuichi could say no – not that he even wanted to in the first place.
His face lit up with a smile, closing the small gap between them with three quick, long strides. “Yes!” he said, peering up at Gonta. “I would love that!”
Gonta beamed right back at him, offering out an arm for Shuichi. He took it, then watched with that same, goofy smile as Gonta used his free hand to hold open the door. Heat poured from inside, beckoning them both home. Shuichi stepped in, but stopped as Gonta’s hold on him tightened.
“Shuichi, look.” He followed Gonta’s gaze upwards. A small sprig of mistletoe hung in the front doorway. It could have been put there by any number of the building’s residents; Shuichi’s next door neighbour, Teruteru, or the building’s electrician, Miu Iruma. It may have even been hung there by the pink-haired teenager that was always digging through everyone’s trash.
The “who” of the matter was hardly relevant, however. What mattered was that Shuichi and Gonta were now standing beneath the mistletoe, the door to the building open and a mixture of hot and cold air swirling around them. Shuichi’s gaze drifted towards Gonta’s eyes. Snowflakes danced in his long eyelashes. Shuichi’s stomach turned.
“Shuichi know what mistletoe mean?” Gonta asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
Shuichi nodded silently.
Gonta copied his movement, his own head bobbing. “Gonta understand if Shuichi not want to–”
He reached out with cold fingers, fumbling for Gonta’s tie. His hand finally wrapped around the red fabric, pulling Gonta down towards him. Shuichi wouldn’t normally be so bold but what the hell. It was Christmas.
Their lips crashed together roughly, but settled quickly into a soft, gentle kiss. Gonta tasted faintly of peppermint. The world around them melted away and, for a moment, Shuichi forgot about everything other than kissing Gonta Gokuhara.
When they finally separated, he found his KFC bag on the floor.
“Oh, I…” He trailed off, awkwardly bending to retrieve his dinner. “I’m sorry, I guess I probably shouldn’t have–”
“Wow,” Gonta mumbled, eyes open wide with awe. “That might be best Christmas present Gonta ever received.”
Shuichi tried to hide his blush in the large collar of Gonta’s overcoat.
Gonta reached out a large hand and rested it gently against Shuichi’s cheek. He tilted his head back, their eyes meeting once more. “Merry Christmas, Shuichi.”
His cheeks burned, but perhaps it was time to stop worrying about that. “Merry Christmas, Gonta.”
And as they walked towards the elevators together, Gonta’s hand placed lightly on the small of Shuichi’s back, he couldn’t help but think; for the first Christmas in a long time, he wasn’t lonely anymore.