Work Text:
Mello climbed down from the ladder and backed away to admire the state of his front yard. Long hours spent beneath the cold eyes of winter had proven worthwhile as he scanned his creation, nodding in approval. The roof and body of the house had been decorated in alternating red and green lights, from the windows on both storeys to the eaves that overlooked his garden. The only place they didn’t touch was the part of the roof where several glowing reindeer stood in a single-file line ahead of a bright red sleigh.
Illuminated candy canes bordered the cobblestone pathway that led to his front door. And on the lawn, mimicking Mello’s attitude as it stood with pride and an air of superiority, was the pièce de résistance: an 8-foot-tall inflatable Santa, clutching a billboard with a countdown to Christmas. 24 days, 7 hours and 15 seconds. Mello stole a brief glance around the street at the other houses. Some had made an effort to touch up their bland exteriors with lacklustre displays of lights hung with wonky strings in mismatched colours. Others hadn’t bothered at all.
A smug grin broke across Mello’s face. He had been in the neighbourhood for two weeks and he was already proving to be the most artistically gifted. He would bet everything in his bank account that he was the most intelligent, too. With a final sweep of his eyes, he decided he was finished for the day and went back inside to the cosiness of his house, to light the fireplace and wait out the hours with a good book.
Mello loved holidays in general – mostly because they made for the perfect excuse to indulge his love of chocolate, although he did that regardless – but Christmas had always been his favourite. As a kid, he loved the excitement of decorating the tree, watching presents pile up beneath it and counting down the days until he could see what was inside.
But the most special part of it had always been the lights. It was magical, seeing city buildings and entire neighbourhoods lit up in bright shades of red and white and green. Now that he was an adult, he wanted to recreate that same magic that he remembered from his childhood. He had moved around a lot in the past few years for work, rarely staying in one place for more than six months, but he made a promise to himself that no matter where he was in the world for Christmas, he would always put up the best lights display in town.
Some of the neighbourhoods he’d lived in had very little Christmas spirit, with only a few residents dressing up their houses for the festive season. Others had been much more enthusiastic, transforming the entire street into one big spectacle. But no matter where he lived, one thing always remained consistent; Mello’s display had always been the most impressive. Based on the current state of his street, his house was already the only one worthy of a double take. He could only hope that it would stay that way.
In hindsight, that was probably wishful thinking.
The problem started a week later. It was late evening, just past 8:30pm. From the comfort of his upstairs reading nook, Mello heard a distinct commotion outdoors, marked by the squeals of excitement from the stampede of children barrelling through the street. Mello peered through his second-floor window. A group was gathered around his front yard, gaping at the lights and accompanying decorations that completely buried the house underneath. One young-looking mother rushed onto the lawn to retrieve her unruly kid as he tried to hug the giant Santa.
Mello slipped his makeshift bookmark between the two pages he had been reading and wandered out onto the balcony for a better look. The grin on his face promptly vanished. Somehow, when he hadn’t noticed, the neighbour to his left had decorated their house too. The presentation didn’t look too impressive from where Mello was standing. It was almost completely white, with only vague blue accents dotted along the walls. A strange colour scheme, Mello thought. A younger audience would surely prefer brighter, bolder colours like reds and greens – not to mention that those were the known Christmas colours.
But despite Mello’s objectively correct opinion, his neighbour had amassed a crowd two times as large as the one in Mello’s front yard. Mello’s fists balled at the sight of it. What was so special about that house? Did this guy have the real fucking Santa Claus over there? The mystery of it all left Mello with no choice but to take a walk up the street to see what the fuss was about. He threw on a coat and a pair of slippers and trekked out into the cold.
Moving through the crowd proved to be a challenge, but Mello managed, pushing his way to the front for a proper view of the exterior that had garnered so much attention. He craned his neck, searching for the mind-blowing feature that was attracting so many strangers to the house. Yet he never found it. Even this close up, the display looked… underwhelming. The homeowner had clearly put effort into their work, but it lacked the magic that any good Christmas lights display should have. That Mello’s house had.
He backed away and assessed the two houses side-by-side, wondering if that might clear up some of the confusion. He immediately noted that the rude neighbour had a shorter fence than Mello’s – a picket fence so outsiders could see right through to the house, with an archway instead of a gate. With those additional details, the displays in the front yard were much more visible to anyone simply viewing it from the street. That made it more accessible to visitors, and probably more appealing at first glance.
Plus, the owner had decorated the outside, too. Several candy canes were lined up in the soil on the street – blue, which Mello decided to take as proof that the weird neighbour had some strange aversion to the colour red – and the two large trees on the side of the road had been covered in white lights. White lights adorned the fence too, following the archway up to its highest point where mistletoe hung as a final touch.
Mello’s fence wasn’t ridiculously high, but it was solid, which was most likely the issue. Even with most of the lights concentrated on his roof and a particularly tall Santa model, a spectator’s eye would be instantly drawn to the house next door on account of the outer decorations. Mello needed to go one step further. He needed lights on the fence, too. He made a mental note to purchase more lights the following day when he had the opportunity. Nothing too fancy; just a simple set of string lights would do the trick. That should be all he needed to put him back in the lead.
So he did exactly that, managing to find a set of fairly inexpensive meteor shower lights in red and green to match his aesthetic. He stretched them from one side of the fence to the other, and borrowed his neighbour’s idea as well, wrapping lights around the trees. He had to admit that it was a nice touch. He left his gate open as usual, allowing visitors to appreciate the full extent of his hard work.
Surprisingly, it worked. Only one small change and the crowd sizes evened out again, with Mello’s display drawing in just as many spectators as the one next door. Ideally, he wanted his house to attract more visitors, but he was content to leave things the way they were for now. It seemed his neighbour was, too.
…at least, for the first few days.
Only 12 days out from Christmas – on Mello’s damn birthday, no less – his neighbour introduced another decoration. Mello had just returned home when he noticed it. He had been out at dinner with his friend Matt, who had come to visit him for the week to celebrate his birthday. Mello didn’t notice the change straight away. As far as he was aware at the time, there wasn’t any reason for him to look at the house as he drove past it and pulled into his driveway. He was already accustomed to the sight of the lights and the people gathering around it.
But it wasn’t the sight that caught his attention when he stepped out of the car. It was the noise. Just bubbling over the volume of chatter from the street, Mello heard the faint melody of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’ buzzing from the house to his left. He let Matt into the house and walked down the street on his own, brow furrowed. His eyes shot wide open when he located the source. Snowmen. His stupid neighbour had fucking singing snowmen.
“Singing goddamn snowmen,” he grumbled to Matt several days later as they both stood in Mello’s yard, admiring the new attraction they had assembled.
Finding a singing display that could be ordered to his house in time for Christmas had proved to be not only difficult, but incredibly expensive. That wasn’t even considering the setup required – too many plugs, not enough outlets – but with a bit of rearranging and a lot of muttered cursing, he managed to make it work. It was a Christmas tree, about half an inch shorter than the inflatable Santa, with a star on top that blared carols loud enough for the whole street to hear.
“You know, I’m sure your neighbour didn’t put them up to try and upstage you,” Matt said. “He probably just saw them in a store somewhere and thought they’d be a fun addition.”
“Trust me, it was intentional. You don’t know him like I do.”
“Know him? You’ve never even met the guy. Hell, he might not be a guy at all.”
Mello glanced over at him, eyes narrowing. “I don’t need to meet him to know that he’s an asshole.”
~~~
Admittedly, the tree was a hideous stain on an otherwise incredible spectacle – not because of its appearance, but the sound. The first night Mello turned on the music in his yard, his hands instantly flew to his ears to cover them in sheer horror. Loud as it was, his music wasn’t loud enough to drown the carols blasting from his neighbour’s yard, creating a horrible dissonance between the two displays as they competed to be heard.
But the point had become less about improving his display, and more about outdoing the bastard who lived to the left of him. It didn’t matter if the tree would drive people away from his own house, as long as it drove them away from his neighbour’s house, too. Best case scenario, the asshole would hear the ear-splitting cacophony, and turn off his snowman display to let Mello’s shine instead. Worst case scenario, neither of them would back down, and the grating noise would continue right up to Christmas day.
For two nights in a row, the usual crowd avoided the houses of Mello and his neighbour. Neither one wanted to sacrifice their precious display to let the other one flourish, so they were left with a discord of competing carols that repelled any spectator who valued their hearing. Mello saw two people kissing under the mistletoe beneath his neighbour’s archway, but they were the only visitors who even dared stand close to either house.
On the third day, snow started to pile up, leaving Mello stuck with the tedious job of shovelling snow from his driveway. He couldn’t help his eyes drifting over to the house next door as he stood there. He could still see the snowmen’s hats over the top of the fence. He huffed at the sight of them, evidence of his displeasure lingering in the air in the form of a fleeting, wispy cloud. This guy really wasn’t going to back down, was he? Maybe Mello needed to try something else. But what? What could possibly beat singing snowmen?
As soon as he finished clearing away the snow, Mello quickly made his way back inside, slipping his gloves off to warm his hands by the fireplace. As the blood returned to his fingertips, it occurred to him that sitting here, thawing in the heat of the fire, was the most calm he had felt all week. Perhaps this whole Christmas lights ordeal was causing him too much unnecessary stress. It was the weekend, after all. He should be relaxing, enjoying a few rare hours of free time before evening set in.
He swore to himself not to think about the lights for the rest of the afternoon, until it came time to switch them on again. In order to keep that promise to himself, he needed a distraction. Reading was always a safe bet. Losing himself in a book sounded like a good option right now; maybe a mug of hot chocolate would be a nice treat, too.
As he waited for the milk to heat up, a faint knock at the door drew Mello’s eyes down the hallway to the stained-glass panels either side of the entrance. He stepped closer, straining to see through the glass in the hopes of making out a figure on the other side. He frowned as his efforts proved futile. Wiping both hands on his shirt, Mello trekked down the hallway and pulled open the door.
Standing on his doorstep, hunched over with his head tilted downwards and dark eyes focused on the floor, was a young man. He appeared to be at least six inches shorter than Mello, and his terrible posture wasn’t doing any favours to his height. Mello blinked twice in quick succession. What a strange-looking person. Every inch of him was pale as a sheet, as if his skin had never met the sun, and he seemed to be wearing a pair of oversized pyjamas in matching white. He hadn’t brought anything with him, and one brief scan of his front yard told Mello that no one was there to accompany him, either.
Several seconds passed before Mello realised that the visitor wasn’t going to say anything, so he took the initiative to ask: “Can I help you?”
The visitor glanced up at him, but still wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Yes,” he said. “My name is Near. I live in this neighbourhood.”
His voice was deeper than Mello had expected, but its monotone quality perfectly matched his bland exterior. Mello slowly nodded.
“Right. I’m Mello.”
“I know.” Near shuffled forward slightly and peered into the house. “May I come inside?”
It took Mello a moment to process this request. How odd for a person to show up at a stranger’s doorstep, unkempt and dressed in wrinkled pyjamas, and invite themselves into their house – and in such a direct manner, too. A twinge of unease surfaced in Mello’s stomach.
“What for?”
“I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Mello’s eyes narrowed. The sense of discomfort kicked up another notch. Such a cryptic request… but he had to admit, there was something equally intriguing as there was unnerving about this unexpected guest. There wasn’t any danger in hearing him out, was there? He looked harmless, and even if he wasn’t, he was tiny enough that Mello could overcome him physically if it came to that.
Mello’s curiosity took the reins. He stepped back as a nonverbal means of granting Near’s request. Near entered the house without hesitation, and Mello shut the door behind him, leading him down the hallway.
“Your house is very clean,” Near commented. “Do you live alone?”
Somehow, the way Near spoke made every word sound condescending; like he was mocking Mello’s cleanliness. He wanted to reply that it was none of Near’s business, but he thought it was best not to be rude before he even knew what Near was here for.
“Yeah. Do you?”
“Yes.”
Mello led Near through to the living room and planted himself on the couch, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“So, what is this about?”
He noticed Near eyeing the couch and he patted the cushion beside him, shuffling over to make as much space as possible for Near to join him. The way he sat was particularly bizarre, with one leg drawn to his chest and the other hanging over the edge, barely touching the floor. One hand ascended to his hair, catching several white strands between his fingers and coiling them into tight curls.
“Myself and several of our other neighbours had concerns about the music coming from this house,” Near said.
“From this house?” Mello scoffed. He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. “Blame the asshole next door. He did it first.”
“The ‘asshole next door’ is me.”
There was an uncomfortably long pause as Mello let those words hang in the air between them, struggling to process the revelation. This guy? This short, pale, pyjama-wearing weirdo was the faceless enemy Mello had been fighting this entire damn time? It was almost laughable. How did this freak even get up to the roof to hang the lights?
“Hang on, you, the guy who put up singing snowmen in your garden, are trying to tell me I can’t play music?”
“I’ve been living here for years. The snowmen are a long-held tradition.”
“Right. So it’s fine when you do it but because I’m the new guy, I can’t.”
Near exhaled, his grip tightening on his hair. “No, that’s not how it works. The display is a well-known attraction in the neighbourhood. There are many people I would disappoint if I took it down.”
“Well, you’re disappointing me by keeping it up.” Mello’s lips pulled into a scowl. “I know what you’re doing, Near. You want your house to be the best one in the street, and you think the only way to beat me is to have snowmen put on a whole song and dance in your front yard.”
“You’re mistaken. All I’m doing is carrying on a beloved tradition.”
Mello gritted his teeth and glared at Near, unsure of what else to say. Near didn’t bother to make eye contact in return. In fact, he hadn’t made eye contact with Mello the entire time, instead fixating on one particular spot on the floor that was apparently fascinating.
“If you continue to play music, I will have to file a formal complaint against you.”
Mello’s eyes widened. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I would rather not have to do that, of course,” Near said. “I am simply asking out of respect for the people who live here. It would be nice if you could share that respect.”
“I will never respect you. Never in a million damn years.” Mello flicked his wrist. “Get out of my house.”
Near stood up with a sigh.
“I hope you will at least think about what I said.”
He walked away, never once sparing a glance at Mello. Mello kept his eyes on him right up until he shut the door. So he now had a name and a face to the neighbour who had been ruining his life for the past few weeks. Near. Mello’s blood simmered in his veins at the thought of him. Who did he think he was, acting like he was somehow superior just because he had lived there longer?
Mello loathed the idea of letting Near win, but he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of receiving a complaint after less than a month in the neighbourhood, either. So, regardless of his reservations, Mello begrudgingly obeyed Near’s hypocritical demands. He still left the tree up – he had put too much money and too much damn work into it to recklessly tear it down – but he pulled out the cord that made it sing.
The rest of the day was spent moping around, feeling miserable and dejected over this blatant defeat. He completely forgot about the mug of milk he left in the microwave.
~~~
From there, it was all uphill for Near. Several people still stopped by Mello’s house, but it was far overshadowed by the eager crowd who flocked to Near’s display to listen to the snowmen. Mello noticed some of the same faces showing up multiple nights in a row just to hear the carols again and again.
On December 20th, only 5 days out from Christmas, Mello resumed his nightly ritual of walking out onto his balcony and peering into Near’s garden with a grimace. To his horror, yet another new attraction had been added alongside the snowmen. Three illuminated reindeer. And not just any old reindeer; dancing reindeer. They were white, just like the rest of his display, and stood proudly on the grass as they pranced around in perfect synchronisation.
That was it.
Mello marched downstairs and out through his front door, barely sane enough to lock his door before the rage consumed his entire body. There was hardly a crowd for him to push past, which was probably for the best – in his current state, Mello probably would’ve shoved anyone who got too close. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment. There was only one thing on his mind. Or more accurately, one person.
He stormed towards the house he had come to despise and scanned the outside for his sworn nemesis. There he was, standing just outside his house, readjusting a candy cane that had face planted into the soil. Mello’s upper lip curled.
“There you are.”
Near glanced up in Mello’s general direction without meeting his eye. Mello stomped towards him.
“Listen here, asshole,” he snarled. “You don’t get to prance around, telling me to get rid of my singing Christmas tree, just to turn around and put up fucking dancing reindeer.”
Mello took another heavy step towards him, and Near stumbled backward. He knew he was making a scene. He could hear the whispers from the street behind them. Yet in that moment, he didn’t care at all. His priority was to give Near a piece of his mind, and if the whole fucking city wanted to watch, then so be it.
“You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? Why, just because you’ve been here longer? Just because everyone else here is on your side? Because they’re all fine with you hosting a damn musical in your front yard but they’d all run at me with pitchforks if I did the same?”
He kept moving forward until Near no longer retreated, and placed himself mere inches away from Near, so close their noses almost touched. He waited for a response, but nothing ever came. Near wouldn’t even look at him. In his blind rage, Mello grabbed Near’s shoulders and shook them.
“Say something, damn it!”
Near’s eyes were still elsewhere, and it was only when Mello followed his gaze that he came to a horrifying realisation. His jaw clamped shut. Somehow, they had ended up right beneath the arch, mistletoe hanging proudly above them, almost low enough to touch Mello’s head. Mello looked back at Near, eyes wide.
“You can’t be serious.”
Near shrugged. “You know the rules.”
“No fucking way. I’m not going to kiss you.”
He turned to his right again, horrified at how rapidly the crowd had grown – so much so that he probably couldn’t leave without physically pushing past them all – and how several of his neighbours had begun filming their altercation as if they were animals at a zoo.
Mello huffed and yanked Near towards him, giving him no time to react before their lips forcefully collided. If Near wanted a kiss, Mello decided he may as well make it the most unforgettable damn kiss of his life. He held Near’s cheeks firmly in place for a long while, taking silent pride when he opened his eyes for a moment to find that Near’s were still wide with shock.
After some 20 seconds, Mello pulled away and folded his arms over his chest in triumph. Near stood there, stunned, the flush dusting his neck and cheeks accentuated by the glaring white lighting. Mello flashed him a smirk.
“This is the biggest crowd you’ve had at your display, all because of me,” Mello said. “Looks like I’m the most popular attraction after all.”
He stalked away through the gathering of people, finally feeling satisfied with himself.
Victory.