Holiday Wishes

School was out for the Holidays and families were all settled warmly within their homes. Mothers and fathers would watch as their children opened their presents, their children graciously thanking them after the toy they had wanted appeared underneath the festive wrapping paper. Or perhaps a newlywed couple would cuddle in front of a fireplace, basking in the warmth of the fire and each other's love. Or maybe an elderly couple's eyes would open wide with tears of joy as their children would visit them with their grandchildren.

It didn't matter. He was always on the outside looking in. No; it didn't matter because he was Atobe Keigo. What was Christmas to him but another day in a mansion full of expensive décor and riches but devoid of a human touch?

He could never figure it out, though, why the mansion was so much emptier whenever the Christmas season came about. Nothing would change but the few decorations put up by the fireplace by his staff—who would then take their leave to spend the holiday with their own families—and the large cumbersome tree with endless amounts of presents underneath. Atobe never understood it—how out of the three hundred and sixty five days of the year, this single day made his quarters so hollow.

It couldn't be that his parents were always away on that day. They were always away on many days that merited a special name or on days that were worthy of retelling—Christmas, his birthday, the day he'd become the captain of Hyoutei's elite tennis team. He'd grown accustomed to their absence, and would be more surprised if they had actually shown up at home for the holidays.

No—Christmas was always regrettably lonely, every single year. He'd never admit to it, of course, what with his haughty and prideful nature. He'd never admit, either, that there was one year his Christmas had been almost delightful. No, not almost. It was especially. Sinking into his chair, he took a sip of his expensive wine, hoping that the wine would fill his empty soul, but knew at the same time knew that it would not. The only thing that could warrant a joyful Christmas went by two names: .

had always been the cheerful type. He'd watch in awe as she donated much of her riches to the poor, and watched in admiration as she sang Christmas carols at the local shelters. And the Regulars on his tennis team would watch in wonder as she managed to get him to follow in her tread. Yes, Atobe's Christmas last year was of utmost joy.

But it was over now.

She was gone. He'd let her leave. He knew that there had been many, countless ways that he could have prevented her absence in the time of the upcoming holidays, but he had been to prideful, too full of arrogance. Had it really been only two months ago?

had shown up at his doorstep the day following his birthday. The day before, she had thrown him a surprise party—a surprise ruined by Mukahi's big mouth. He'd been careful to show surprise for her sake, however, but she knew immediately that he had already known. This time it was thanks to Shishido's big mouth.

The entire time of the party had been spent by trying to calm down the more reckless Regulars, trying to entertain those who were harder to impress, and trying to spend as much time with Atobe as she could in between those two activities.

All Atobe had to do the entire time was keep up appearances. It wasn't heard; he'd done it for countless years. As his more playful Regulars jested him on his relationship with , he had shoved them off with all the haughty dignity of a rich tennis captain. Naturally. At the end of the party had looked thoroughly disappointed, but about what she would not say. It had worried him the entire time until she showed up at his doorstep the following day. He'd been relieved to see her.

    "Atobe, we need to talk," had said.

His spirits had been shaken after hearing her call him by his surname when she'd long ago grown accustomed to calling him by his given name. His spirits would have dies if he hadn't been a newbie at relationships and realized that her words were the signal of the start of a depressing conversation.

    "What about?" he had responded as he had signaled for her to come in, but instead had stepped outside when she had refused.

    "Us," she had replied; another signification of an oncoming awful conversation that Atobe had been blind to. He had been thoroughly confused, and so then had continued. "Atobe, can you count how many times we've held hands in the course of our relationship?"

    "Yes," Atobe had answered as he grew more and more confused with every word she spoke.

    "On two hands?"

    "...Yes."

    "And the times we've kissed?"

    "...On one hand."

Atobe was then no longer blind as to the direction their conversation was headed. And he would not allow for any emotion to be shown, for he knew that they'd only be weak ones. His guard had always been slightly low when with , but then at that time, his walls were completely up. He had then stood straight, at his tallest, and looked down at , who was much shorter than he, as she then tried to carry on the conversation in light of Atobe's new demeanor.

    "Atobe," she had continued after a deep breath. Her only response had been an eagle-like stare. She then nodded her head as if she had just then finalized her decision. "Atobe, I've tried so hard to fit into your life...to get so close to you, but..." She had then taken another deep breath as she had struggled with the tears that had threatened to flow over her eyelids. "But...you never let me in. You were always so guarded." Again, she had evoked no response—Atobe wouldn't have it. "So...good-bye, then, Atobe."

And with that she had left. It was over. He had said nothing more, he hadn't chased after her, she hadn't tried to evoke any more emotion, and he hadn't allowed any emotion to show until after the doors were closed. There was no more; they were through. Through with the façades, through with the attempts to understand each other; they were through with each other...period.

Was it really only two months ago? It seemed an eternity since he saw her last, heard her enthusiastic yells at his tennis matches, or felt the affection of her radiant smile afterwards, win or lose. It seemed even longer than an eternity, if it were even possible, that he'd felt the warmth of her fingers entwined with his and the pleasant embarrassment after a kiss on the cheek.

Atobe settled into his favorite chair, the one that always offered a comfort to him after the most stressful days. It offered little solace now, but it would have to do. Usually the sounds of the staff would comfort him the way the waves of the ocean did a surfer, but now that they were gone for the holidays, the silence was deafening.

As he stared into the fireplace with nothing much to dwell upon, his mind could not help but wander to the whereabouts of his acquaintances. He wondered where each was spending their Christmas, how they were doing it, anything of that type. He wondered if they had any spare time at all to think of the arrogant rich student president. He'd never admit it out loud, but he mostly wondered about , especially dwelling on who she was spending her holidays with.

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt a soft and warm creature rub against his legs. Not in the slightest alarmed, he bent down to pick the cat up. If the sounds were not there, his kitten would certainly bring him peace of mind. He stared into the eyes of his cat, his reflection staring back in its amber color. He couldn't stare long—they were the same color as 's. Luckily, the doorbell rang to discontinue his thoughts.

Atobe stood up and walked to the door, knowing of no one who would ever come to his mansion on Christmas Day. As he took the short walk to the door, thoughts began forming in his head—hopeless thoughts—of coming over to wish him a happy holidays. His hopeless wishes were diminished upon seeing a delivery man through the monitor.

Putting up appearances once more, Atobe opened the door and signed for the delivery, abruptly closing the door once the delivery man had gone. He placed the package underneath the tree, along with the other piles of presents and returned to his chair. No matter how many presents he received, he'd never truly enjoyed any of them as much as he'd enjoyed merely spending time with that one year.

He hadn't been sitting on when the doorbell rang again. This time aware of his foolishness of the last delivery, he kept all foolish notions out of his head as he approached the door. This time it was a female come to deliver a gift. She was fairly tall, but not taller than he, with black hair and amber eyes.

Atobe opened the door and greeted her with all the civility he'd been raised with.

    "-san."

Yes. -san. It was all he could bear himself to call her now. He wished there was further familiarity between them, but the truth was they had rarely talked since that day aside from a half-hearted greeting in the hallways. She said no greeting in return, merely held out a the gift she held in her hands for him to take.

    "It's from Oshitari."

Ah, of course.

    "Thank you."

She smiled a close-mouthed smile, and after a short, awkward silence said, "Good-bye."

Once again, she left him alone with those two words. He could have done something to make her stay, but he did not. He could have offered her to come in, if only for a moment, but he did not. He could have confessed the feelings he still had for her, but he did not. He did none of those things. Pride and vanity stood in the way, and he was still a ways from overcoming that flaw.

Minutes seemed like hours and hours seemed like days. It seemed like several years had passed in between the hours he remained undisturbed. The fire was slowly dying, but the loneliness Atobe felt weighted on his shoulders was too heavy for him to rise and revive it. The light was diminishing when he heard the doorbell ring for the third time.

Dissatisfied, Atobe stood up and walked once more to his door, a groan escaping his lips as several happy young men's faces appeared on the monitor. Keeping up appearances once more, Atobe opened the door to be greeted by the faces of his seven regulars, some more joyful than others. A smirk played at his lips as a smile threatened to overcome his self-important façade.

    "Merry Christmas Atobe-buchou!" greeted the Regulars in a somewhat unified voice.

Oshitari's own smirk was staring back at him, and obvious sign that this had all been his idea. How he had gotten all the Regulars to show was beyond him, but he really wouldn't have liked to know anyway.

    "We've gotten you a present," Oshitari drawled in his accent.

With this, the large group of Regulars parted into two lines, some grumbling (like Hiyoshi), some doing it more merrily (like Ohtori), and some doing it with an air of indifference (like Shishido). Once parted, a black limousine came into plain sight, and Atobe's interest was shown by his rising brow.

    "A limousine," Atobe said, half question, half statement.

    "A rental," Oshitari said, pride and jesting in his voice.

Atobe smirked once more, suppressing a laugh.

    "So let's take a ride," Oshitari continued.

    "I've taken many rides in limousines before, Oshitari," Atobe replied. "I would have thought you'd be better at picking out Christmas gifts."

But Oshitari didn't seem to hear as he was already making his way toward the limo, shoving many of the more reluctant Regulars toward it. Atobe stared in disbelief for a few moments, but recovered quickly and, after putting on some shoes suitable for the outside weather, he followed suit. Once he caught up to where they were waiting, there was a bit of staring before Atobe got impatient.

    "Well?"

    "You first," Oshitari said, opening the door the way his butler usually would.

Grumbling to himself about how weird everyone was acting, he allowed himself to get into the car. Once he was inside, Oshitari closed the door and an unexpected darkness surrounded him. He tried to open the door, but in vain. He heard the door in the front open and close, and the window between the driver and passenger was lowered. Oshitari stared back at him with a wide grin on his face and a driver's cap on his head.

At this point, the light turned on and Atobe realized he had another passenger. Atobe turned his attention once again on Oshitari just in time to see his smirking face disappear once again behind the tinted window.

    "-san," Atobe said, regaining his lost composure. She smiled and his composure was lost once again.

    "Keigo," she replied. Any thread that was holding his composure snapped at that moment. Her smile grew wider and the winter's cold could do nothing against the warmth of it. "I hear from Oshitari that you're spending Christmas alone."

    "As per usual," Atobe replied with all the best composure he could possibly front.

    "It wasn't so last year," said she, the sunny smile never leaving her face.

    "Last year was different," he said, his eyes leaving her face.

    "This year can be different, too," responded, moving over to sit next to him. "If you'll only let me in."

He reluctantly looked up at her and saw her soft expression.

    "It's going to be hard," he replied as he felt her hands clasp over his.

    "I'll be patient, as long as I know you're trying," responded, tightening her hold on his hands. She smiled at him once again and he knew he couldn't resist. Everything within him wouldn't allow him to make the same mistake twice. He was already suffering from the first mistake—everybody knew Atobe Keigo made no mistakes. He smiled at her and it was all she needed. "Then, shall we all go inside?"

    "All of us?" Atobe asked, groaning. All the feelings of disappointment disappeared as she heard her laugh.

    "Yes, all of us," she replied. "Tomorrow...it will be just us two."

fin

2006.12.22