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The Shinazugawa household always looked like Christmas threw up inside it. Every December, Sanemi swore the holiday decorations multiplied overnight, invading every surface with tinsel, baubles, and blinking lights. The air smelled like cinnamon, pine, and baked sugar cookies, scents that might have been comforting if they weren't accompanied by so much Christmas cheer. And the music—godforsaken music. His mom had been blasting Mariah Carey since the first of December.

Sanemi hated it. He hated all of it.

For him, Christmas wasn't a season of joy. It was a reminder of what he'd lost. His dad had died six years ago on Christmas Eve, taken away by a drunk driver in an instant. Every twinkling light and carol only dragged him back to the ache of that night. But his mom—bless her determined heart—had refused to let tragedy taint the holiday forever. She threw herself into celebrating his dad's life every year, hosting massive Christmas Eve parties where half the neighborhood showed up, arms laden with ham, puddings, and salads drowning in mayonnaise.

This year, the Shinazugawas' home was practically a beacon of festivity. Multicolored lights covered the house, blinking so brightly Sanemi joked they'd attract low-flying planes. Inside, garlands wrapped around every railing, ornaments hung precariously from the ceiling, and the tree—an enormous monstrosity that barely fit in their living room—was weighed down with so many decorations it looked ready to topple.

And this year, like every other year, Sanemi was ready to bolt.

"Sanemi, sweetheart," his mom called from the kitchen, shattering the silence of his brooding.

"What?" he grumbled, glaring up at the ceiling of his room as if it could shield him from her request.

"Come set the dining table! And don't you dare think about sneaking off on that motorbike of yours. You're staying here tonight."

Sanemi groaned, rolling off his bed with the enthusiasm of a man headed to the gallows. He stomped down the stairs, only to be met with the unmistakable sound of his mom humming Jingle Bell Rock.

"I could just...chill in the attic," he offered weakly, dragging his feet into the kitchen. "You wouldn't even notice I was gone."

His mom turned, fixing him with a look so sharp it could cut through the turkey in the fridge. "Don't even think about it. We've got guests coming."

"We always have guests coming," he muttered, already dreading the sea of unfamiliar faces.

She ignored him, busy arranging a tray of cookies shaped like Santa and reindeer. "The new neighbors are coming this year! They've got a son your age. I'm sure you two will hit it off."

Sanemi snorted. "Highly doubt it."

"Oh, don't be such a Grinch. Now, go grab the Christmas coasters and glasses. And once you're done, pop the turkey in the oven. I don't want to see you slinking off until you've helped."

He opened his mouth to argue but stopped when she gave him that look. He grumbled something under his breath, grabbed the obnoxiously festive coasters (decorated with cartoon Santas waving cheerily), and stalked off to the dining table.

The first knock on the door came just as Sanemi was placing the last coaster. His mom practically flew past him to answer it, calling over her shoulder, "And remember, Sanemi—be polite!"

He rolled his eyes. Be polite. As if he'd forgotten the disaster of last year when he got roped into the mistletoe game and had to kiss that girl from down the street. She smelled like roasted potatoes and tasted like eggnog. Sanemi hated eggnog.

He ducked into the kitchen, shoving the turkey into the oven before retreating to his sanctuary upstairs. His room was the only place untouched by the holiday invasion. No lights, no garlands, no cheery music. Just blissful quiet.

He flopped onto his bed, pulling a pillow over his face. If he could just stay up here long enough, maybe everyone would forget he existed.

But fate—or his mom—had other plans.

It started with a knock on his bedroom door. "Sanemi?" his mom called.

He stayed silent, hoping she'd think he was asleep.

"I know you're awake. Don't make me come in there."

With a resigned sigh, he sat up. "What?"

"You've got to come downstairs. Everyone's here. And the new neighbors want to meet you."

Sanemi groaned. "Please don't make me do this."

His mom opened the door, her expression softer now but no less insistent. "Come on, it won't kill you to say hi. And I mean it—don't even think about sneaking off this year."

He muttered a string of curses under his breath, but he followed her downstairs, bracing himself for the onslaught of Christmas cheer.

—

The living room was a war zone of festive chaos, and Sanemi was losing. Kids darted between adults' legs, shrieking with sugar-fueled energy. The adults weren't much better, clinking glasses of mulled wine and laughing too loudly over the blaring Christmas carols. The smell of roasted ham and cinnamon made Sanemi's stomach churn, not because it wasn't appetizing but because it was just too much.

He lingered near the doorway, plotting his escape route, when his mom's voice rang out over the din. "Sanemi! Come here! I want you to meet the new neighbors!"

His heart sank. Why? He hadn't asked to meet anyone new. Couldn't they just leave him to suffer in peace?

With the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows, he trudged across the room. His mom stood with a small cluster of people: a man and a woman around his mom's age, a quiet-looking guy about his age with dark hair and striking blue eyes, and a girl who was a dead ringer for the quiet guy, though her bright smile seemed to belong to an entirely different personality.

"This is my son, Sanemi!" his mom said brightly, grabbing his arm before he could slink away. "Sanemi, this is the Tomioka family. This is Mr. and Mrs. Tomioka, their son Giyuu, and their daughter Tsutako."

Mrs. Tomioka gave him a warm smile. "It's lovely to meet you, Sanemi. Your mother's been raving about her famous Christmas parties."

Sanemi shot his mom a betrayed look. "She has, huh?"

"She has!" Tsutako piped up, beaming. "This is our first Christmas in the neighborhood, and we're so excited to join in the fun!"

Sanemi had to fight the urge to grimace. Fun. Sure. That's what this was. He shifted his attention to Giyuu, who stood slightly behind his family like he was trying to blend into the wallpaper. "Hey," Sanemi said awkwardly.

Giyuu nodded. "Hi." His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Sanemi glanced between Giyuu and the rest of his family, then blurted out, "So... do you hate this too?"

Giyuu blinked, and for a split second, something like amusement flickered in his otherwise stoic expression. "The mistletoe game sounds... unpleasant."

Sanemi snorted before he could stop himself. "Unpleasant is putting it mildly. Last year, I got stuck kissing the girl down the block. She tasted like eggnog."

"Isn't that a Christmas staple?" Giyuu asked, tilting his head slightly.

"I hate eggnog," Sanemi said flatly.

Giyuu's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, and Sanemi felt a strange warmth creeping into his chest. Was that a smile? Did this guy have a sense of humor buried under all that stoicism?

"Oh, look at them getting along already!" Sanemi's mom said, clapping her hands together.

Sanemi glared at her. "We are not—"

"We'll leave you boys to chat!" Mrs. Tomioka interrupted with a kind smile. "Let's go mingle, shall we?"

Before Sanemi could protest, his mom and the Tomiokas wandered off, leaving him and Giyuu alone amidst the whirlwind of Christmas chaos.

"So," Sanemi said after an awkward beat of silence, crossing his arms. "You really don't like the mistletoe thing?"

Giyuu shook his head. "It's unnecessary."

"That's one way to put it." Sanemi leaned against the wall, eyeing Giyuu curiously. "What about the rest of it? The decorations, the music, the whole..." He gestured vaguely to the room, where a group of kids was singing Jingle Bells at the top of their lungs.

Giyuu hesitated. "I... tolerate it."

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "Tolerate it?"

"It makes people happy," Giyuu said with a small shrug. "I don't want to ruin that."

Sanemi snorted. "What, so you just suffer in silence?"

"Pretty much."

For a moment, Sanemi just stared at him. Then he burst out laughing, the sound sharp and unexpected even to his own ears. "You're insane. If I didn't complain about all this, I think I'd implode."

Giyuu's mouth quirked up ever so slightly. "It's a strategy."

"What, pretending you're fine?"

"Exactly."

Sanemi shook his head, still chuckling. "Well, you're a better person than me. I've been trying to hide upstairs since this whole thing started."

"You weren't successful."

Sanemi grinned despite himself. "Yeah, thanks for pointing that out."

For the first time all night, he felt... okay. Maybe it was because Giyuu seemed as out of place here as he did, or maybe it was just nice to talk to someone who didn't expect him to join in the holiday cheer. Either way, Sanemi decided he didn't mind being stuck in this conversation.

"By the way," he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "if you see mistletoe, run. I'm serious. These people don't mess around."

Giyuu's eyes flicked to a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway across the room. "Noted."

The chaos of the party churned on around them, but for once, Sanemi didn't feel the overwhelming urge to run. Giyuu stood beside him, quiet but not awkwardly so. There was something calming about his presence—maybe it was the way he didn't force conversation or fill the silence with mindless chatter. Sanemi found himself relaxing in a way he hadn't expected.

"So," Sanemi said, nodding toward the tree in the corner, where kids were gleefully tearing into their pre-party presents. "Your family big on Christmas too? Or did they just get dragged into my mom's insanity?"

Giyuu tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes thoughtful. "They like it. Tsutako, especially. She's... very enthusiastic."

Sanemi smirked. "Yeah, I noticed." He pointed out, looking into the living room, "She's trying to rope my sisters into making paper snowflakes as we speak."

"She'll manage to convince them," Giyuu said simply.

"No doubt." Sanemi studied him for a moment, curiosity getting the better of him. "What about you, though? You don't strike me as the Christmas sweater-wearing type."

Giyuu's lips quirked up in a faint smile. "I'm not. But it's easier to go along with it than argue."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is."

Sanemi huffed a laugh. "Well, for what it's worth, I don't blame you. This whole thing is... a lot."

"I noticed," Giyuu replied dryly, his gaze sweeping over the room. The lights from the Christmas tree reflected in his eyes, making them seem even brighter than usual.

Sanemi followed his gaze, his smirk fading into something softer. "Yeah, my mom goes all out. Every year. Even more so since..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Giyuu glanced at him, his expression unreadable but patient. "Since your dad?"

Sanemi froze, startled. "How'd you know?"

"Your mom mentioned it earlier, when she was introducing us," Giyuu said quietly. "She said she tries to make Christmas special because of him."

Sanemi let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Yeah. Six years ago. Some drunk asshole hit him on Christmas Eve. Killed him instantly."

Giyuu didn't respond right away, but the weight of his gaze was steady. "I'm sorry."

Sanemi shrugged, trying to shake off the heaviness creeping into his chest. "It's fine. She means well. The parties, the decorations—it's her way of coping, I guess. I just..." He gestured vaguely to the room. "It's too much, you know?"

"I do."

That simple acknowledgment hit harder than Sanemi expected. He looked at Giyuu, surprised to find an understanding in his expression that felt... real.

"What about you?" Sanemi asked after a moment. "You got some tragic backstory tied to Christmas, or do you just hate it for no reason?"

Giyuu hesitated, his gaze flickering to the lights on the tree again. "Not tragic," he said finally. "But my dad... he wasn't around much. He traveled for work, so most holidays, it was just me, Tsutako, and my mom."

Sanemi frowned. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"It wasn't. But my mom tried to make up for it by overcompensating." Giyuu's mouth twitched into a faint smile. "Every year, she'd bake enough cookies for an army, buy presents we didn't need, and force us to wear matching sweaters for the Christmas card. I just..." He trailed off, shrugging slightly.

"Wanted it to be normal?" Sanemi guessed.

Giyuu nodded.

Sanemi laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Well, guess we're both stuck with moms who think Christmas fixes everything."

"Seems that way."

For a moment, they stood in companionable silence, watching as the chaos of the party swirled around them. A pair of kids ran past, giggling as they tossed tinsel at each other. Sanemi's youngest brother was attempting to shove an entire candy cane into his mouth while Tsutako cheered him on.

"Your sister's having a blast," Sanemi muttered, nodding toward her.

Giyuu glanced at Tsutako, a flicker of amusement softening his features. "She's always been good at that."

Sanemi found himself smiling, almost against his will. "Guess it's not all bad. At least there's ham."

"And no eggnog," Giyuu added, his tone deadpan.

Sanemi barked out a laugh, louder than he meant to, and a few people glanced their way. He didn't care. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like the grinch in a sea of Christmas cheer.

"Alright, Tomioka," he said, crossing his arms with a smirk. "If we're both stuck here, you're sticking with me. Deal?"

Giyuu met his gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave a small nod. "Deal."

Sanemi was beginning to think maybe—just maybe—he could survive the party without losing his mind. Giyuu was easy to talk to, even if he wasn't exactly chatty, and for once, Sanemi felt like he wasn't the only one drowning in holiday cheer overload.

But, of course, peace didn't last long in the Shinazugawa household.

"Sanemi!"

Sanemi turned just in time to see his youngest sibling, Shigeru, racing toward him with an armful of candy canes and a gleam of pure mischief in his eyes. Behind him, one of the neighborhood kids was chasing him, yelling about "candy theft."

Before Sanemi could react, Shigeru ducked behind him, using him as a human shield.

"Hide me!" the kid pleaded breathlessly, stuffing the candy canes into Sanemi's hands.

"What the—Shigeru, you little gremlin!" Sanemi growled, trying to shove the candy back at him.

"No time! He's gaining on me!" Shigeru hissed before bolting, leaving Sanemi standing there like an idiot with stolen candy in his hands.

The kid chasing Shigeru skidded to a stop in front of Sanemi, panting and glaring. "He stole those from the snack table!"

"Uh... these?" Sanemi held up the candy canes awkwardly, as if they might explode.

"Yes, those!"

Giyuu, who had been silently watching the whole thing, finally spoke. "You could just... return them."

Sanemi turned to him, scowling. "Oh, thanks for the genius advice, Sherlock."

Giyuu's lips twitched, and Sanemi swore he saw the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Just give them back!" the kid whined, stomping a foot.

With a dramatic sigh, Sanemi crouched down and handed over the candy canes. "Here, take your sugar sticks, kid. And maybe learn to fight your own battles next time."

The kid snatched the candy and stuck out his tongue before running off.

"You really have a way with children," Giyuu deadpanned.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly my dream to babysit the whole damn neighborhood," Sanemi muttered, standing up and brushing tinsel off his jeans.

As he turned back to Giyuu, he noticed something. Or rather, someone. His mom, standing across the room, pointing directly at him. And above her? The cursed mistletoe.

"Oh, hell no," Sanemi muttered, immediately stepping away from Giyuu.

"What?" Giyuu asked, following his gaze. When he spotted the mistletoe, his expression didn't change, but Sanemi swore there was the tiniest flicker of panic in his eyes.

"We need to move. Now," Sanemi said, grabbing Giyuu's arm and pulling him toward the kitchen.

"Why?"

"Because if my mom sees us anywhere near that damn mistletoe, she'll turn this into some romantic Hallmark moment, and I am not kissing you in front of a hundred people."

"Noted."

They managed to make it into the kitchen without incident, but the relief was short-lived. As soon as they stepped inside, they were met with the sight of a toppled punch bowl, red liquid spreading across the floor like some kind of festive crime scene.

"...Did we just walk into a murder?" Giyuu asked, his tone completely serious.

Sanemi snorted. "Looks like it. Bet it was Shigeru."

"Or your mom," Giyuu added.

Sanemi turned to him, eyebrows raised. "My mom? What, you think she's secretly a festive assassin or something?"

"She does seem... interesting," Giyuu said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Sanemi couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, Tomioka. I'll give you that one. But now we gotta clean this up before someone blames it on us."

As they grabbed paper towels and started mopping up the punch, Sanemi glanced at Giyuu out of the corner of his eye.

"You're surprisingly good at this," he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

"At what?"

"Cleaning up chaos. You've got a certain... grace to it."

Giyuu paused, looking at him with an expression that was equal parts confused and amused. "Are you flirting with me?"

Sanemi smirked, leaning slightly closer. "What if I am?"

For a split second, Giyuu's ears turned the faintest shade of pink, but his expression remained calm. "Then I'd say you're terrible at it."

Sanemi laughed, genuinely this time. "Fair enough. Guess I'll have to practice."

"You'll need it," Giyuu replied, his tone as dry as ever.

As they finished cleaning up, Sanemi couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this Christmas wasn't shaping up to be as bad as he'd expected. Sure, there was still chaos and cheesy music and his mom's endless holiday spirit, but at least he had someone to survive it with. Someone who, against all odds, made the whole thing a little less unbearable.

And if Giyuu kept throwing those deadpan quips his way, Sanemi thought he might actually start to enjoy himself.

The kitchen cleanup hadn't been enough to save Sanemi and Giyuu from the party. As soon as they tried sneaking out, Sanemi's mom caught them like a hawk spotting prey. She waved them over, a wide grin on her face, and introduced them to a group of guests who had just arrived.

"Sanemi, Giyuu, come say hi to Mrs. Yamada and her niece, Kaede," she called cheerfully, practically shoving them forward like they were kids at a school play.

Sanemi gritted his teeth. He hated this part of the party most of all. Small talk. Forced smiles. Awkward compliments. He glanced at Giyuu, who looked as stoic as ever, but there was a faint twitch in his jaw that screamed, I'd rather be anywhere else.

Mrs. Yamada was all too eager to chat. "Oh, Sanemi, you've grown so much since I last saw you! And your hair—so striking! Kaede, don't you think Sanemi's hair is striking?"

Kaede, a timid girl clutching a plate of cookies, turned bright red and mumbled something incoherent.

Sanemi shot a glare at his mom, who was grinning like she'd just orchestrated a flawless matchmaking scheme. "Mom," he hissed, "can we not?"

Mrs. Yamada wasn't done. She turned her attention to Giyuu, her eyes lighting up. "And you must be one of the new neighbors! Such a handsome young man. Kaede, don't you think he's handsome?"

Kaede looked like she wanted to sink into the floor.

"Uh..." Giyuu blinked, glancing at Sanemi like he was silently begging for an escape plan.

Sanemi seized the opportunity. "Mom, I'm giving Giyuu a tour of the house. You know, so he doesn't feel like a total stranger."

His mom raised an eyebrow but waved them off. "Fine, fine. But don't take too long—dinner will be ready soon!"

Sanemi grabbed Giyuu's wrist and tugged him out of the room, ignoring Mrs. Yamada's protests and Kaede's stammered goodbye. Once they were in the hallway, Sanemi let out a long-suffering groan.

"God, I hate this," he muttered.

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "She seems... determined."

"Determined to ruin my life, yeah," Sanemi said with a huff. Then he smirked. "You handled that like a champ, though. Maybe I should start calling you Mr. Popular."

Giyuu gave him a flat look. "Please don't."

Sanemi snickered and gestured toward the stairs. "C'mon, I'll show you my room. It's the only place in this house where Christmas hasn't exploded."

Giyuu followed him upstairs, the noise of the party fading behind them. When they reached Sanemi's room, Sanemi pushed the door open and stepped inside, kicking a stray sneaker under the bed.

"Welcome to my sanctuary," he said, spreading his arms theatrically. "No tinsel, no carols, no mistletoe."

Giyuu stepped in, looking around. The room was surprisingly neat, with shelves lined with books, a few sports trophies, and posters of motorcycles and nature trails.

"You really hate Christmas that much?" Giyuu asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You try to avoid it at all costs?"

Sanemi leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "You should embrace the Grinch lifestyle. It's liberating."

Giyuu tilted his head, studying him. "You're very... open about disliking things."

"Yeah, well, no point sugarcoating it," Sanemi said with a shrug. Then, with a playful grin, he added, "Speaking of being open... are you gonna ask if I'm into men, or do I have to spell it out for you?"

Giyuu blinked, caught off guard. "I... was going to ask."

Sanemi laughed, the sound loud and genuine. "Was it that obvious?"

"A little," Giyuu said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Sanemi leaned against the wall, smirking. "So, what about you? What's your type?"

Giyuu hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Kind people. With good hearts."

Sanemi gave a short laugh. "Yeah, good luck finding that around here."

Giyuu didn't reply immediately, his eyes returning to Sanemi with an unreadable expression. "Sometimes, you find it where you least expect it."

Sanemi laughed, missing the subtlety entirely. "If you say so."

Giyuu didn't reply, his eyes lingering on Sanemi for a second longer than necessary.

The silence stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. They ended up talking about Sanemi's trophies—track and field, motocross, even a spelling bee from elementary school.

"Spelling bee?" Giyuu asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't judge. I peaked in fifth grade," Sanemi said, grinning.

The conversation flowed easily, and for once, Sanemi didn't feel the need to keep his guard up. Giyuu was quiet, but he asked thoughtful questions and seemed genuinely interested in what Sanemi had to say.

After a while, there was a knock on the door, and Sanemi's mom peeked in.

"Dinner's ready, boys!" she said, her eyes twinkling. "Don't take too long, or Shigeru will eat all the turkey."

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming," Sanemi grumbled, shooing her away.

He turned to Giyuu and gestured toward the door. "Let's go before the gremlins downstairs eat all the good stuff."

Downstairs, the dining room was packed, but Sanemi spotted two empty chairs side by side and immediately claimed them. He pulled one out for Giyuu, smirking when the other man raised an eyebrow.

"What? It's called being polite," Sanemi said.

Giyuu sat down without comment, but Sanemi swore he saw the faintest hint of a smile.

As the food was served and the chaos of the party swirled around them, Sanemi found himself relaxing for the first time all night. Sure, Christmas was still a nightmare, but with Giyuu beside him, it didn't feel quite so bad. In fact, it almost felt... nice.

—

The living room was packed to the brim, every available seat taken and people standing shoulder to shoulder as Sanemi's mom and her choir group took center stage by the Christmas tree. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, and the smell of pine mixed with the remnants of dinner, creating a warm, festive atmosphere. Sanemi, however, felt like he was suffocating.

He and Giyuu had managed to find a spot off to the side of the room, near the doorway, where they leaned against the wall. Giyuu stood with his arms loosely crossed, his expression calm despite the noise and chaos around them. Sanemi, on the other hand, was fidgeting, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"This is a lot, huh?" Sanemi muttered, glancing sideways at Giyuu.

Giyuu hummed in agreement. "It's... lively."

That was an understatement. As the choir began their rendition of O Holy Night, some of the guests started singing along, others clapping in time with the music. Kids were sitting on the floor, giggling and whispering, while older guests swayed in their seats, fully immersed in the holiday spirit.

Sanemi let out a small huff, crossing his arms. "If my mom pulls out the tambourine, I'm out of here."

Giyuu turned his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You don't seem like the caroling type."

"What gave it away?" Sanemi shot back, his tone dry but playful.

Before Giyuu could answer, Sanemi nudged him lightly in the side with his elbow. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but enough to make Giyuu glance at him again, his blue eyes soft with curiosity.

"What?" Giyuu asked, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were holding back a smile.

"Nothing," Sanemi said, smirking. Then, as an idea struck him, his smirk widened into something a little more mischievous. He leaned in close, so close that his breath ghosted against Giyuu's ear.

"Wanna ditch this and take a ride on my motorcycle?"

Giyuu tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable at first. Then, to Sanemi's surprise, he nodded. "Sure."

Sanemi blinked, caught off guard by how easily Giyuu agreed. "Wait, really?"

"Why not?" Giyuu replied, his voice calm as ever but with a hint of amusement. "It's better than getting pulled into a tambourine solo."

Sanemi barked out a laugh, drawing a few curious glances from nearby guests. He ignored them, straightening up and motioning toward the hallway. "Alright then, let's go before someone tries to stop us."

They slipped out of the living room unnoticed, the sound of the choir and clapping fading into the background as they made their way to the front door. Sanemi grabbed his leather jacket from the coat rack, tossing it over his shoulder before glancing at Giyuu.

"You got a jacket, or are you planning to freeze your ass off?"

"I'll manage," Giyuu said, though he was already pulling a navy scarf from his coat pocket.

Sanemi rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He opened the door, the crisp night air hitting them immediately as they stepped outside. The neighborhood was quiet, save for the faint echo of Christmas music from nearby houses.

His motorcycle was parked in the driveway, gleaming under the glow of the holiday lights strung along the roof. Sanemi swung a leg over it, settling in before turning to Giyuu. "Hop on."

Giyuu hesitated for only a moment before climbing on behind him, his movements careful and precise. When his hands lightly rested on Sanemi's sides, Sanemi glanced back over his shoulder.

"You can hold on tighter, you know. I don't bite."

Giyuu's lips twitched. "I'll take your word for it."

Sanemi snorted, revving the engine and feeling a rush of excitement that had nothing to do with the ride itself. "Alright, hold on, Christmas choir boy. Let's get outta here."

As they roared down the street, the festive chaos of the house faded into the distance. Sanemi couldn't help but grin, the cold air biting at his cheeks as Giyuu's presence behind him felt steady and grounding.

For the first time in years, Christmas didn't feel like something he had to escape. It felt like something he might actually enjoy—if only because Giyuu was there to share it.

The wind whipped past them as Sanemi's motorcycle roared down the quiet suburban streets, the hum of the engine vibrating beneath them. Christmas lights blurred in the corners of Sanemi's vision, strung along fences and rooftops, but all he could focus on was the warmth of Giyuu pressed against his back.

He smirked to himself, leaning into a sharp turn just to see if Giyuu would tighten his grip. Sure enough, Giyuu's hands moved instinctively, his fingers curling a little firmer against Sanemi's sides.

"Getting cozy back there?" Sanemi called over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the wind.

"I wouldn't want to fall off," Giyuu replied smoothly, the calmness in his tone making Sanemi glance back briefly, startled by how unaffected he seemed.

"Right," Sanemi muttered, revving the engine unnecessarily, just to reassert some control over the situation.

After a while, they pulled off the main road and onto a quieter stretch overlooking a small park. Sanemi killed the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening compared to the roar of the ride.

Giyuu climbed off first, brushing his scarf back into place, his dark hair slightly tousled from the wind. Sanemi followed, tugging off his helmet and shaking out his hair.

"Well?" Sanemi asked, leaning against the seat of his bike and crossing his arms. "Impressed by my skills, or do you need me to take another lap to convince you?"

Giyuu tilted his head, his blue eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. "It was fine."

"Fine?" Sanemi repeated, his voice pitching higher in mock offense.

Giyuu's lips twitched again, that same barely-there smile from earlier, but this time there was something more deliberate about it. He stepped a little closer, standing just inside Sanemi's personal space.

"You want me to say it was amazing?" Giyuu asked, his voice low and even, but there was a teasing edge to it now. "That you're the best rider I've ever seen?"

Sanemi blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected shift in Giyuu's demeanor. He'd expected awkward politeness, not this sudden confidence that practically oozed from him.

"Uh—well, yeah," Sanemi stammered, his earlier bravado slipping slightly.

Giyuu leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping even lower. "Maybe I'll give you a proper review... next time."

Sanemi felt his face heat up despite the cold, and he quickly recovered, barking out a laugh to cover his flustered reaction. "Alright, alright, cool it. I didn't know you had that in you."

Giyuu shrugged, his expression infuriatingly calm. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"Oh yeah?" Sanemi shot back, narrowing his eyes. "What else am I missing?"

Giyuu didn't respond right away. Instead, he shifted even closer, until the toes of their shoes were almost touching. His gaze lingered on Sanemi's face, unhurried and assessing, before he finally said, "You seem like the type who's into challenges."

Sanemi's brows shot up, and then he let out a short laugh, the tension between them suddenly crackling like a live wire. "You trying to make yourself sound like one? 'Cause, news flash, I don't back down from anything."

Giyuu's mouth quirked up, this time into a full smile—small, but genuine. "I'll keep that in mind."

The air between them grew heavy, charged with something unspoken but undeniable. Sanemi shifted, suddenly hyperaware of how close they were, of the way Giyuu's breath mingled with his in the cool night air.

"Alright," Sanemi said abruptly, breaking the moment before it spiraled out of control. "Let me guess—you're one of those guys who pretends to hate motorcycles but secretly thinks they're cool?"

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "I never said I hated motorcycles."

"No, but you didn't exactly look thrilled back there either," Sanemi pointed out, smirking again. "Was it me, or was it the bike?"

Giyuu tilted his head slightly, as if considering his answer. "Maybe it was the company."

Sanemi froze for a second, his smirk faltering. Then, he burst out laughing, the sound loud and unrestrained. "Okay, you got me there. Didn't think you had it in you, Tomioka."

"Giyuu," Giyuu corrected, his voice softer now but no less confident. "If we're flirting, you might as well use my first name."

Sanemi blinked at him, momentarily thrown. Then he grinned, wide and cocky. "So we are flirting."

"Wasn't it obvious?" Giyuu replied, deadpan.

Sanemi barked out another laugh, shaking his head. "Man, you're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You're not so bad yourself," Giyuu admitted, his tone lighter now, almost playful.

The conversation drifted into something easier after that, the two of them leaning against the bike as they talked. Giyuu asked about Sanemi's motorcycle—how long he'd had it, if he'd always been into riding—and Sanemi found himself answering more earnestly than he'd expected.

At one point, Giyuu pointed to the small chain hanging from the handlebars, a cheap keychain with a scratched-up wolf pendant. "That seems... sentimental."

Sanemi glanced at it, his smile softening for the first time that night. "Yeah. My dad gave it to me before... well, before he passed. It's stupid, but I keep it there. Feels like he's with me, y'know?"

Giyuu nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's not stupid."

For a while, they just stood there, the quiet hum of the night settling around them. Sanemi found himself relaxing in a way he hadn't all night, the weight of Christmas and everything it meant lifting just a little.

Finally, Giyuu spoke again, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. "We should probably head back before your mom sends out a search party."

Sanemi snorted. "Yeah, she'd probably start caroling in the streets to find us."

Giyuu's faint smile returned. "I'd rather avoid that."

"Alright, alright," Sanemi said, clapping a hand on Giyuu's shoulder before hopping back onto the bike. "But next time, I'm in charge of where we go."

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "There's a next time?"

"Hell yeah, there is," Sanemi shot back, smirking. "Unless you're too chicken to ride with me again."

Giyuu's eyes gleamed faintly in the dark. "I'll take my chances."

As they headed back, Sanemi couldn't help but grin, the weight of the holiday feeling a little lighter now with Giyuu beside him.

-

The rumble of the motorcycle faded as Sanemi eased it into the driveway, parking it neatly beside the curb. The warm glow of Christmas lights from his house spilled onto the front yard, and faint sounds of laughter and music drifted through the windows. He tugged off his helmet, shaking out his hair, and glanced back at Giyuu, who was doing the same with an effortless grace that was starting to feel annoyingly attractive.

"You alive back there?" Sanemi teased as Giyuu dismounted.

Giyuu handed the helmet back with a composed expression. "Barely. Your turns could use some work."

Sanemi barked out a laugh. "Alright, critic. Next time you can drive, and I'll sit back and enjoy the show."

"Deal," Giyuu replied smoothly, his tone so deadpan that Sanemi did a double take.

He slung his helmet onto the bike, muttering, "Cocky bastard," before gesturing toward the front door. "C'mon, before my mom adds us to her Christmas choir out of spite."

They stepped into the house, the warmth and smell of roasted ham hitting them immediately. The noise inside had only grown louder, with carolers still belting out tunes in the living room and kids darting around like sugar-fueled tornadoes.

"Where have you two been?" Sanemi's mom called from across the room, her hands on her hips. Her choir paused just long enough for her to glare. "You missed three songs and a very moving rendition of Silent Night!"

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Sorry, we were busy... bonding. You can add us to the next setlist."

Before she could launch into another lecture, Sanemi grabbed Giyuu's arm and dragged him toward the back of the house.

"Bonding?" Giyuu echoed, raising an eyebrow as they wove through the crowded hallway.

"Better than saying I was trying to escape," Sanemi muttered, pulling him toward the kitchen. But as they rounded the corner, Sanemi stopped short.

There, hanging just above the doorway, was a sprig of mistletoe tied with an obnoxiously oversized red ribbon.

"Oh, for—" Sanemi groaned, his head falling back dramatically.

Giyuu's gaze flickered to the mistletoe, then back to Sanemi, his expression neutral but his blue eyes faintly amused. "What's the rule again? Something about kissing?"

"Don't act like you don't know," Sanemi grumbled, crossing his arms. "This thing's a Christmas death trap. My mom puts it up every year just to watch people squirm."

Giyuu tilted his head slightly, studying Sanemi. "You seem awfully flustered for someone who's supposedly above all this."

"Flustered?" Sanemi scoffed, though his ears were definitely turning pink. "I'm not flustered."

"Really?" Giyuu stepped just a little closer, his voice calm but his presence suddenly more... intentional. "Because you've been staring at the mistletoe for a full minute."

Sanemi's mouth opened to retort, but the words stuck as Giyuu moved into his space, close enough that Sanemi could feel the faint brush of his breath.

"Relax," Giyuu murmured, his voice lower now, carrying a teasing edge. "I'm not going to do anything. Unless, of course, you want to."

Sanemi blinked, completely thrown off by the sudden shift in Giyuu's tone. His brain scrambled for something witty, something to regain control of the situation, but all he managed was a slightly strangled, "You're messing with me."

"Maybe," Giyuu admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But his gaze didn't waver, steady and a little too knowing for Sanemi's comfort.

"You're impossible," Sanemi muttered, but he didn't step back, and neither did Giyuu.

For a moment, the noise of the house faded into the background, leaving only the quiet hum of tension between them. Then Giyuu leaned back, his smile softening into something more genuine.

"We should probably move before someone catches us and gets the wrong idea," he said, his voice returning to its usual calm.

"Yeah," Sanemi muttered, finally stepping out from under the mistletoe and rubbing the back of his neck. "Wouldn't want to give my mom another reason to tease me."

They moved into the kitchen, but the air between them felt different now—charged with an unspoken understanding that neither of them acknowledged outright.

Sanemi leaned against the counter, shooting Giyuu a sideways glance. "You really don't mind all this Christmas nonsense, do you?"

Giyuu shrugged. "It has its moments."

"Yeah?" Sanemi smirked, his confidence creeping back in. "Like getting stuck under mistletoe with me?"

Giyuu's faint smile returned, but this time there was a flicker of warmth behind it. "Something like that."

Sanemi snorted, shaking his head. "You're lucky you're pretty, Tomioka."

Giyuu arched an eyebrow, his calm demeanor unshaken. "And you're lucky you're... persistent."

-

The kitchen felt warmer than usual, but maybe that was just Sanemi's imagination—or maybe it was the way Giyuu was leaning casually against the counter, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, watching Sanemi like he was waiting for the next move.

Sanemi cleared his throat, trying to shake the tension that had settled between them like an uninvited guest. "So, uh... what's your verdict on Shinazugawa family Christmas? Too much for you, or just the right level of chaos?"

Giyuu tilted his head, pretending to consider it. "It's lively. A little overwhelming, maybe. But..." He paused, letting the word hang as his lips curved into a faint smirk. "The company isn't terrible."

Sanemi narrowed his eyes, pointing an accusing finger. "That almost sounded like a compliment."

"Maybe it was," Giyuu replied smoothly, pushing off the counter and stepping a little closer. "You'll have to decide for yourself."

Sanemi rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the grin tugging at his lips. "Alright, alright. I'll admit it—you're not as boring as I thought you'd be."

"High praise," Giyuu said dryly, though there was a glimmer of amusement in his tone.

Sanemi grabbed two glasses from the counter and filled them with spiced cider from the pot his mom had left warming on the stove. Handing one to Giyuu, he leaned back against the counter, their shoulders brushing slightly as he took a sip.

"You know," Sanemi started, tilting his head toward Giyuu with a playful smirk, "for someone who supposedly hates Christmas, you're blending in pretty well. You're even drinking the festive stuff."

Giyuu raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his cider without breaking eye contact. "It's polite to adapt to your host's traditions. Even if they're... excessive."

Sanemi chuckled, the sound low and a little teasing. "So, you're saying you're pretending to enjoy this? That's gotta be exhausting."

"Not entirely," Giyuu replied, his tone softer now. "Some parts are... enjoyable." His gaze lingered on Sanemi for just a moment longer than necessary before he looked away, sipping his cider again.

Sanemi felt his stomach flip, and he quickly looked down at his own glass to hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. "Careful, Tomioka. Keep saying stuff like that, and I might start thinking you're enjoying my company."

"Would that be so bad?" Giyuu asked, his voice calm but with an edge of challenge.

Sanemi froze, caught off guard by the confident response. He glanced up, meeting Giyuu's steady gaze, and for a moment, he wasn't sure what to say.

Finally, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that?"

"So I've been told," Giyuu replied, his lips quirking into a small smile.

The room seemed quieter now, the noise of the party muted as the two of them stood there, the space between them shrinking without either of them realizing it. Sanemi's heart was pounding, and he couldn't tell if it was from the cider or the way Giyuu was looking at him—calm and steady, like he was waiting for Sanemi to figure something out.

"Alright," Sanemi said suddenly, setting his glass down with a clink. "Enough standing around. Let's go find something less... public to do before my mom drags us into another carol session."

He grabbed Giyuu's wrist without thinking, pulling him toward the hallway. Giyuu didn't resist, following him through the crowded house until they found themselves back in the living room. The lights on the tree twinkled brightly, casting a warm glow over the room.

"Hold up," Sanemi muttered, stopping abruptly.

"What now?" Giyuu asked, glancing up.

Sanemi groaned. There it was again—the damn mistletoe. This time, it was hanging right over the doorway to the living room, as if it had been waiting for them.

"Seriously?" Sanemi muttered, glaring at the offending sprig.

Giyuu looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Are you really that afraid of tradition?"

"I'm not afraid," Sanemi shot back, his cheeks warming.

Giyuu stepped closer, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. "Then prove it."

Sanemi's breath caught, his pulse quickening as Giyuu's words hung in the air between them. For once, Sanemi didn't have a comeback.

Giyuu's lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. "Relax, Shinazugawa. It's just a Christmas tradition."

Sanemi swallowed, his gaze flickering between Giyuu's eyes and the mistletoe above them. Then, with a huff of determination, he leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against Giyuu's in a fleeting, barely-there kiss.

When he pulled back, Giyuu was looking at him with a calm but unmistakable warmth in his eyes. "See? That wasn't so bad."

"Shut up," Sanemi muttered, his voice rough but lacking any real bite.

As they stood there, the sounds of the party around them faded, leaving only the quiet crackle of the fireplace and the faint hum of Christmas music in the background. For the first time in years, Sanemi thought maybe—just maybe—Christmas wasn't so terrible after all.

The party began to wind down as the evening gave way to the final moments before Christmas. Sanemi found himself back in the main sitting room with Giyuu by his side as his mom herded everyone together. The room was packed, the air buzzing with anticipation and warmth. Fairy lights twinkled along the walls, casting a golden glow over the crowd, and the hum of excitement rose as the countdown began.

Sanemi was still distracted by the earlier kiss under the mistletoe, his mind replaying the brief but electrifying moment with Giyuu. His heart beat faster every time he glanced at him, but Giyuu seemed unbothered, standing calmly with his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweater.

"Alright, everyone, it's almost time!" Sanemi's mom clapped her hands, her enthusiasm contagious.

The countdown began.

"Ten... nine... eight..."

Sanemi shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyperaware of the couples around them sneaking knowing glances at each other. He scowled, trying to push away the awkwardness creeping up his spine. His gaze darted to Giyuu, who was watching the countdown with that same unreadable calm.

"Seven... six..."

Sanemi swallowed hard. Don't think about the mistletoe. Don't think about the mistletoe.

"Five... four..."

Confetti poppers were handed out, and the soft crackle of the fireplace mixed with the excitement of the crowd.

"Three... two..."

Sanemi gritted his teeth, his awkwardness turning into full-blown panic as he realized what was about to happen.

"One!"

The room erupted into cheers as confetti exploded into the air, drifting down like a sparkling snowfall. Couples leaned in to share kisses, laughter and joy filling the space.

Sanemi stood frozen, his hands clenched at his sides. He stared blankly at the confetti as it settled on the floor, trying not to feel like the odd man out.

But then, suddenly, a hand curled into the fabric of his sweater, tugging him forward. Sanemi's breath hitched as he stumbled slightly, his eyes snapping to Giyuu's.

Before he could process what was happening, Giyuu leaned in and pressed their lips together.

It wasn't rushed or fleeting like before. This kiss was deliberate—sweet and intimate, but with a quiet intensity that made Sanemi's knees feel like jelly. Giyuu's lips were soft, moving against his in a way that made the rest of the room blur into the background. It was gentle, yet there was an affection there that Sanemi hadn't expected but couldn't get enough of.

When Giyuu finally pulled back, his lips curved into a soft smile, his dark blue eyes locking onto Sanemi's with an openness that took his breath away. "Merry Christmas, Sanemi," he said, his voice low but warm.

Sanemi was glowing—he could feel it, and he didn't care. His usual sharp wit was gone, replaced by a wide, stupid grin he couldn't hide. "M-Merry Christmas, Giyuu," he managed to say, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

For once, Sanemi didn't mind the noise and chaos of his mom's Christmas parties. All he could think about was Giyuu—how he'd just kissed him in the middle of everything, how his lips still tingled from the touch, and how he already couldn't wait to kiss him again.

Around them, the festivities carried on, but for Sanemi, the night couldn't have ended on a better note.