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On December 23rd, Eichi found himself in the hospital.
His brain was a bit fuzzy, and he was perhaps a little bit tired, but he found himself to be no worse for wear than he usually was.
Which was peculiar, considering that he remembered himself dying.
The feeling of being so weak that he could barely lift his head or open his eyes was not one that he'd soon forget. The feeling of wanting nothing more than to be pressed against his husband, to be draining the warmth from him as if he were a leech, to be spending his final moments together with him... all of them were so clear in Eichi's memory that they might as well have happened yesterday. Or perhaps they had? He wasn't quite sure. Comparatively to that, in this moment he almost felt as if he'd never been sick at all. Despite that, however, he still sought out the opinions of the doctors and nurses. He allowed them to run tests. He allowed any evaluation that they asked of him, with their agreement being that if he were well enough, he would be discharged the following day.
And the following day, Eichi left the hospital with a (relatively) clean bill of health, his sights set on one destination in particular.
Of course, there was a stop along the way; a convenience store, for a bow and a bouquet. The bow was affixed messily to his hair, alongside a small prayer that it would stay for long enough to provide its full effect. And as he walked down the street unaided for the first time in what felt like forever, he caught the scent of the flowers that he cradled to his chest, and it put a smile on his face. He hoped that Wataru would like them. They weren't grandiose, but that was alright. They weren't necessarily the main attraction anyway.
Right on the cusp of Christmas Eve turning to Christmas Day, Eichi had made it to his destination. The lights inside were still on. That was a good sign. He had never known his husband to be an early to bed, early to rise type anyway.
And so, he rang the doorbell.
After a long night of galivanting, drinking, and then striking out with Hokuto repeatedly Wataru had returned home. It was so empty, completely void of Christmas spirit - but that was fine. He wasn't feeling especially festive this holiday no matter how he usually went all out for everything else.
He wished for snow, for a stroll with his beloved as he stared up at a big tree with his eyes full of wonder. He wished to carry around mistletoe and hike it up above the princess's head and he wanted to run from the esteemed butler as soon as he caught wind of what was happening. He wanted the four of them to spend time together, but what he missed most of all could never return to him.
Wataru had decided that flinging himself about was going to happen at least later in the day on Christmas, the morning could be reserved for his self-loathing and the observance of what he once had. Maybe he'd find someone else that night, maybe he'd come back and cry. Who knew! He'd even surprise himself!
The night was long, and sleep wasn't coming - the fear of both sleeping, disappearing, and waking up to something he didn't want to see still so goddamn fresh and terrifying.
But the bell rang, and he hadn't expected company. Wataru glanced at the clock on the wall, confused as to why someone would show up at such a late hour. It surely wouldn't be Shu or Kanata, not after everything they'd been through. Nor would it be Rei, who'd let him know he would have his hands full for a while. And it wouldn't be Natsume, busy as well, or Tomoya - also dealing with the aftermath of the past few weeks. Hokuto, maybe, but he'd already gone to bed for the night. One of the people he'd slept with recently, perhaps? But after Arashi, no one seemed to want to sleep in his bed.
Wataru opened the door, letting his confusion and everything that came with it help him forget how terrible he looked. His hair had been completely down, he hadn't touched his face up, he was dressed down and in a simple shirt and pajama pants with a cute print on them. Whoever was at his door hopefully wasn't looking to sleep with him, and if they did, they weren't going to like what they saw.
With a single yawn, he opened the door, his words dragging out with how sleepy he was. "You're so late, what are you d- "
His heart stopped. Everything was cold. It was as though the entire world swallowed itself up, leaving nothing but the gift presenting itself on his doorstep and Wataru, blinking in the dim light. His mouth never closed, his breath caught in his throat. Wataru Hibiki had never been more surprised in his life, never been more at a loss for words than in that moment. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if Eichi was real, if his face was warm and if his smile was true.
If he was hallucinating, his mind had thankfully given him the most beautiful version of his late husband he'd ever seen. And part of him wanted to just allow the fantasy to play out.
When he finally drew in a breath, shaky and desperate, his eyes filled with tears. His voice, so puny and far away, uncharacteristic for such a normally resounding and booming jingle, escaped his lips with a breathless, simple question. "...Eichi?"
Surprising Hibiki Wataru was a feat in and of itself. He was the master of surprises, after all. A magician to his core, so good at his crafts and his masks that he had both worlds he'd lived in almost thoroughly convinced that he was something closer to human-adjacent than actually human. (The sentient hair, of course, did him no favors in that respect.) Simply put, catching him off guard wasn't easy. There was almost nothing that he wasn't prepared for in some way, nothing that could yank the carpet out from beneath his feet, nothing that he couldn't adapt his perfectly tailored scripts to at the drop of a hat.
Seeing his late husband standing before him in the middle of the night seemed to have done the trick, though.
If the situation were different, Eichi might've smiled at the way Wataru's mouth hung open in shock. He might have giggled, might have teased. But he understood the shock; neither of them expected to see each other here again, not after what both of them still so clearly remembered. Eichi had remembered his death occurring on Halloween, and now it was Christmas... it had to have been a long two months, surely. For him, it felt like he'd blinked. But he hadn't had to (figuratively or literally, it seemed) live through the past two months. He could only imagine what had happened in that span of time. He could only imagine what Wataru had gone through, or how he felt.
Well. They had all the time in the world to catch up now, didn't they?
Eichi gave his husband, the love of his life, the softest smile that he possibly could. He didn't mind the tears clouding his own vision. They were fine, he could blink them away. He took just a second to dip down and place the bouquet on the doorstep before he took a step forward, wrapping Wataru into the gentlest hug that he could.
"Merry Christmas, Wataru. ... I've missed you."
Now, Wataru wasn't one to disregard flowers or even allow them to hit the ground before they'd been properly loved - but nothing, not even a bouquet of roses, could pull his attention away from the angel before him. Wataru reached out his hands, wiping away Eichi's tears with either thumb.
Noting how warm he was.
Noting how soft his skin was.
Nothing how he couldn't see any of his veins underneath, how his cheeks weren’t hollow, the way the bags under his eyes didn't look violent, how the smile on his face held a million emotions. It wasn't just there from muscle memory.
"I... um," Wataru stood there, dumbly, completely at a loss for words. He broke further, slowly degrading into an uncontrollable sob and latched himself into Eichi's chest.
Noting the way his heartbeat still sounded murmured, but not at all as weak, slow, or as desperate as it had in his final days. He sobbed against it, clinging to his shirt, then clinging to his hands, standing up fully and shaking his head back and forth.
"I don't... I..." He let go and covered his own face, trying to think of what he was supposed to say. What his lines may be. What the script might have called for. But Wataru knew in his heart Eichi would want his own words, from his own heart. But Wataru had no idea what they may be. "M-merry Christmas, Eichi."
He stood tall again, searching Eichi's face as though he weren't really there. As though he'd never seen him up so close. "You're... beautiful, Eichi, oh - oh, you're so beautiful..."
You look so alive. You look so healthy.
"I could say the same to you, my love."
Though it wasn't the word that Wataru had used outright, Eichi knew what he meant. He looked healthy . He looked alive. He no longer looked like he was inching closer to Hell's gates with each shallow breath that he managed to take. He looked the same as he had in memory, as opposed to the horrifying, ghastly figure of a half-breathing corpse that he'd left Wataru in the shape of. He didn't know how it'd happened, he had no idea how he was back, but he'd thank every God that the bubbles would come up with for the second chance at life he'd been given.
While Wataru studied his features, Eichi took the opportunity to brush some hair from Wataru's forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to it after doing so. It was cute, admittedly, to see him at such a loss for words. A very small bit of him took pride in the fact that his surprise had been successful. Even though it was hardly planned out and the bow he'd awkwardly slapped onto his head had fallen to the ground in their embrace, what mattered most were the tears of joy that made up his husband's reaction.
"I arrived at the hospital yesterday," He explained, bringing Wataru back into a gentle embrace. "They ran tests to ensure that I was well enough to leave. It seems as though I'm in very good health, all things considered." He placed another kiss to the side of his head, gently swaying with him as he spoke. "Like a Christmas miracle."