귓가엔 빠른 심장 소리만

This time last year, J had a lot on his mind, and presents didn't play into it. Everything was, very literally, a matter of life or death. He barely even remembered to get something for his mother, lost in a haze of despair and desperation, losing count of the days.

The stakes are, admittedly, quite a bit lower this year, but it's still very important, as far as J is concerned. Because, this time last year, he was alone — not just single, but utterly, painfully alone and extremely aware of his isolation. He'd thought he did that to himself — and to an extent, he did — but S has helped him see how that isn't entirely true, how he was coaxed and manipulated into solitude, made malleable by one of the only people he trusted. And now, well, he's still isolated, that's true. He doesn't know anyone in this city other than his boyfriend, but S is everything to him. This is the first time in a long while they've had Christmas together or their anniversary, and he needs gifts for both, good ones. Even if he knows this year will be special no matter what they do, if only because it shouldn't have been possible to spend it together (or for him to have another Christmas at all), he still wants to get this right.

Out on the streets of Darrow by himself, he wanders past stores with brightly lit windows. It's cold out and he bundles up in his coat and gloves and scarf, huddling into the warmth of them. There are so many people out tonight, many of them doing the same as him, peering in shop windows, thinking about gifts. This entire year has been a process for J of regaining his footing, slowly adjusting to being alive, being back with S, to moving forward after what he did. Less than a year ago, he killed himself, and he killed others before that, and it seems like another lifetime — it was another lifetime — but it's still all too vivid in his mind.

He was already primed by a lifetime of being on the outskirts of society not to be very good at making friends. After last year, after the revelations about the professor, after the way he's had to fight himself every step of the way to reconcile himself to all of it, he's even less fit to be among people. That he finds himself a touch wistful watching other people go by in groups surprises him a little. It would be nice, he has to concede, to know someone. He may have all he needs in S, but it would be helpful to have someone to talk to now, to help him figure out what to get for S, something he certainly can't go to his boyfriend with. And, too, since Pride, he's felt a little more curious about other people. He spent so much of his childhood and adolescence hiding in so many ways, and there's a certain relief in having one less aspect of himself to keep in shadows, but that's all theoretical thus far.

But then, how could he ever make friends? How could he open himself up to anyone new when he'd have to hide so much?

Everything he can think of feels either too expensive or too boring. Sweaters are comfortable and practical, but not exactly romantic. Jewelry might be nice, but S really only ever wears the one ring from his parents, and if J starts thinking about rings, he knows what path he'll go down, but they've never actually talked about that as a real thing they could do, because it never was before Darrow. Music is a possibility, but he barely even knows what music is out there these days, his approach to the subject still terribly tentative.

It feels to him as if his head is full of thoughts, eddying wildly through his mind, too quick to hold onto, so he winds up thinking of nothing much at all. It's cold out, enough so that he wouldn't be surprised if it started to snow, and standing around outside a shopping center, too on edge to join the crowd, is pathetic even by his own overdramatic standards. But that's where he finds himself, peering through the doors of the mall. It might be better in there, with a wider variety of shops to look through, a good way to get ideas. But it also seems absurdly overwhelming.

He considers leaving and coming back another time, but it's the middle of the afternoon on a weekday and he can't imagine it being any quieter some other time of the week. Besides, he's low on time. He left this too late. Better to go and get it over with then, so he takes a deep breath and starts through the doors.

And then turns back around abruptly, giving up at once, only to collide into someone probably more intent on shopping than he is, or else an unfortunate passerby. "Ah, sorry," he says quickly, eyes going wide, then remembers that people mostly speak English in Darrow and he should probably try that, because he's clearly short on things to be self-conscious about already. "Sorry," he says again, this time in English instead of Korean. "I wasn't looking."

[12/1] 힘겨운 유희 긴 겨울같이

It is, J thinks, one of the finer places he's been in his life. The university had a sense of grandeur to it, but it was old and some buildings were kept in far better shape than others. Kagura, by all rights, ought to be the kind that stays worn down and forgotten. J didn't know anything of it, or not enough to think about the place, until he heard something about Halloween, and then about this place opening up for the winter season. Poking around on the internet out of curiosity told him almost nothing at all except that it's very pretty up here.

It's more so in person, though, everything bustling and beautiful, and his heart aches a little at every turn. He's not used to this, has rarely encountered such places except, perhaps, briefly after winning the Gloria Artis, something he tries not to think of much anymore. And then there's the snow, and he thinks of last winter, unable to help hearing himself ask if spring will still come. Passing by an open doorway, he realizes it's the bar, and that makes him oddly uncomfortable in ways he doesn't want to think about.

Still, it's not a bad place. He just clings tight to S's hand as they wander, taking in the sights, trying to let himself be distracted by all there is to see and by his boyfriend's presence. After he's had some time to relax a little, it really is interesting.

The mistletoe is unnerving, too, come to that. He's lucky enough to avoid it himself, but witnesses some other poor soul get trapped beneath it, indignant and fussing until someone — a friend or partner, he doesn't know — comes over and bestows a kiss that puts the whole thing to an end. It's strange, and he's curious, but not enough to make him stupid, at least not in this particular way.

At some point in the day, he's separated from S, wandering idly as his boyfriend goes to obtain drinks (better S than him, finding something sweet and non-alcoholic for J, another thing to ignore as much as possible). He glances out windows and down halls, and through an open doorway into a lounge, his heart thudding at the sight of a piano. For a moment, he doesn't know if he wants to move toward it or away, utterly aching without having words for this feeling. It's been so long, almost a year, and he's somehow managed to keep from ever being around one, even with S working at the music store, and he misses it and it scares him. In his wavering, he draws in a slow, shaky breath, glancing briefly upwards to collect himself as he steps forward.

He pulls abruptly back, spotting the mistletoe mere moments before he would have stepped beneath it, backing away quickly only to collide into some poor other patron. "Ah, sorry, the mistletoe," he says quickly, flushing as he looks to the stranger. "I... didn't want to get trapped."