Work Text:
On Christmas Eve in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, jolly music can be heard coming from Satori Tendou’s cracked open window. Inside his home, the chocolatier is hard at work distributing spices into a bowl filled with sifted flour before him.
Salt to protect.
Allspice to heal.
Satori refers to a handwritten recipe on the counter beside his mixing bowl, then picks up the next spice jar. He dispenses the ingredient into the palm of his hand, measuring with a furrowed brow and his tongue barely poking out from between his lips. Satori closes his hand into a fist and takes a moment to focus on the spice. Then, he sets the jar down onto the counter, lifts his hand over the bowl, and lets the ground cloves trickle out from his closed fist.
Cloves to banish negativity.
The brown spice forms a small peak in the center of the bowl. Satori gathers and sprinkles cinnamon and ginger next, watching as each flavor-filled speck falls from his hand.
Cinnamon and ginger to enhance the others.
“Both in taste and purpose.” Satori quietly speaks to himself, a soft giggle punctuating his sentence. He brushes the remaining dust out of his palm with his other hand, then reaches for the nearby whisk to begin blending everything together.
Satori’s not particularly witchy, but this holiday has been tough on him. Around this time last year, he was settling into Wakatoshi’s couch with a hot drink in his hands and a plush cover draped over his lap while the television played a holiday movie. Unfortunately, those moments will not be recreated this year.
Satori has been hard at work in his shop. This time of year always brings more business around. Patrons place large custom orders for Satori to put his culinary talents to good use. His eye for detail brings all of their requests to life so they can surprise someone important to them with the delicious gift.
Satori knows he is blessed to have such success with the shop. He will never say he is not thankful for the business. However, due to the nature of his trade, taking time away is next to impossible around this time of the year. This condition has put our peculiar, usually happy fellow in the predicament he is in now. A weekend alone, unable to participate in the yearly tradition of celebrating Christmas with his best friend.
Satori is distracted enough during his shifts in the kitchen to forget his troubles. Once he steps outside of the shop and onto the busy streets of Paris, they return in full force. Satori wades through the crowd of joyful citizens experiencing the holiday with the people they cherish. He can’t help but grow envious of their shared excitement. It’s hard to ignore their merriment.
So now, in his apartment, he fights the devastation he feels from having an empty home however he can.
A holiday playlist streams from his phone, filling Satori’s workspace. The television in his living room displays a video of a brightly burning fireplace. His flat is decorated with tinsel and garlands. A small Christmas tree lights up the corner of the room with its rainbow-colored bulbs. He’s doing his best to fend off this uncharacteristically downtrodden mood as he follows the magical gingerbread recipe scribbled on an index card. He needs to repair his broken heart.
Satori will try any attempt at bringing comfort and strength to himself so he can face the weekend alone and not let it spoil the holiday. So he blends the ingredients in his bowl until they are smooth. He speaks his intentions into the air and keeps his mind focused.
Schedules never align when they should. Not when Wakatoshi is an elite athlete for a successful volleyball team in Poland. He’s carving out his story, just like Satori is in France. Unfortunately, that means not every holiday can be spent by each other’s side. The two of them have been lucky enough to not miss one since Wakatoshi broke into the foreign leagues. This one time is just part of growing up—being an adult.
He can get through this. Satori knows he’s making a mountain out of this small bump in the road.
Rationalizing it doesn’t make it hurt less, though.
But sometimes sweet things can ease the ache.
A small attempt at kitchen witchery can’t hurt, either.
In a separate bowl attached to a fancy stand mixer, butter is worked into a creamy consistency. Satori scrapes molasses out of a jar and lets it gloop into the bowl. He takes his time pouring in the sugar. With each granule, Satori manifests that his heart heals from how it was shattered after his last conversation with Wakatoshi.
“There’s a game, Satori. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it this season.”
Satori remembers looking up at the ceiling in the back room of the shop. His arms folded across his chest with the white sleeves of his chef’s coat pushed up above his elbows; his toque blanche held tight in his other hand. He stifled a disappointed sigh while searching for imperfections in the plaster above. Satori knows his friend can’t help it. Wakatoshi doesn’t decide the games’ schedule. And he isn’t about to blame this conflict of interest on his favorite athlete. His favorite person.
Wakatoshi must have heard it anyway. He knew Satori would not be pleased with the news of breaking their tradition.
“I am sorry.” Yet somehow, that apology made everything feel heavier. Worse.
Wakatoshi would come if he could. Satori cannot and would not expect him to put his dreams aside for one weekend. No matter how important it was to him that Wakatoshi come to Paris. There will be many more to make up for it. Missing one will not break Satori and Wakatoshi’s bond.
The mixer whirs on the counter as it combines the sweet ingredients together. With each twirl of the paddle, Satori’s wish sinks into the mixture in the bowl. Satori adds an egg and some vanilla bean caviar, then the bowl of flour and spices, watching as the mixer incorporates everything into a thick dough.
Satori stops the mixer, then transfers the dough onto the plastic wrap that lines his counter. He wraps the dough up tightly, molds it into the shape of a thick disk, then places it into his fridge where it will rest and manifest for a few hours.
Satori plans to distract himself with a trip to the nearby market to grab ingredients to make royal icing. When he returns, he will cut the cookies out of the dough and then place them into the freezer. Satori will then go out again to enjoy the lights and decorations in the park near his home while making holiday plans for next year.
Satori’s home is filled with the smell of warm spices as gingerbread cookies bake in the oven. A mug of hot peppermint cocoa sits on the table before him, its steam wafting out as he waits for it to cool. Satori sits at the table in a chair with one of his feet propped up on the seat, looking down at a tablet screen in his hand. He swipes across its surface with a finger to flip through a digital copy of the latest issue of his favorite manga.
When the oven’s timer sounds, Satori sets his tablet down and gets up from his seat to locate the oven mitts. He dons them before opening the oven to peek at the gingerbread cookies. The heat from inside hits Satori as the door opens, blanketing him with warmth.
Satori reaches in to pull out the baking sheets and sits them on his stove top to let them begin to cool. He shuts the oven door most of the way, leaving a crack to let the heat inside escape and warm his kitchen. Satori turns the appliance off, lazily shucking his gloves in the process as he examines the cookies for any burn marks or imperfections. His cookies have cooked through beautifully.
While waiting for the treats to cool, Satori decides to take a shower to wash away what frustration remains. He takes his time in the bathroom, imagining the sticky, thick tar of disappointment sloughing off him and circling the drain. He truly pampers himself with holiday scented soaps and his mind finally begins to clear.
A short while later, Satori reemerges into his kitchen with a fresh set of cozy pajamas. He begins to pull out the ingredients he bought to make royal icing. In a bowl he begins the recipe by cracking three eggs into it, separating the egg whites from their yolk. He tosses their shells into a waste bin. Satori then grabs a fresh bag of powdered sugar and begins to measure the amount he needs out...
When suddenly an unexpected knock comes from the front door.
Satori stops measuring the sugar and sets his utensils onto the counter before him. His eyebrows pinch at the bridge of his nose and purses his lips as he looks at the door and considers who this visitor may be. Every possible person he can think of should be home with their loved ones. They should be preparing themselves to settle down for the night, storing their energy for the celebrations that will take place tomorrow morning.
Who could it be?
A second set of knocks come from the door, causing Satori to jump into action. He rushes over and curiously peeks through the viewer. When his gaze lands on a familiar sports jacket and duffle bag, Satori bristles with excitement. Goosebumps cover his arms as a wave of delight rolls through him. Satori pushes away from the door, unlocks its deadbolt, and twists the knob. He flings the front door open so fast it creates a breeze that flutters the hem of his shirt sleeves.
“Wakatoshi?” Satori’s heart is racing around his ribcage, doing flips and twirls. “I thought you couldn’t make it?” His voice is soft, breathless. He’s worried that if he speaks too loudly his visitor will disappear like an apparition. A Ghost of Christmas Could.
Wakatoshi returns a soft, genuine smile that barely lifts the corners of his mouth as he regards Satori. Light dances in his olive eyes. His cheeks and nose are flushed from standing out in the cold.
Wakatoshi adjusts the strap of his bag. His hand squeezes it as his posture relaxes. “I left as soon as I was able.”
The rumble in Wakatoshi’s voice brings more warmth to Satori than a hot shower or cocoa ever could. Satori’s face lights up as the realization that his best friend is actually at his home finally sinks in.
This is real. His heart is full.
Satori is so happy.
He opens his door wider, stepping to the side for his visitor to come in from the cold. “Just in time to decorate some gingerbread cookies with me!” He beams at Wakatoshi’s deliberate nod. “I hope you have your creative cap on!”