My entry for the ahun_pair community's Hatsukoi contest.



12/24
By: Ali-chan (ad_exia)
Many thanks to hikariblue and valeriebean for their brainstorming and proofreading skills! <3


“It’s the most important night of the year to have a date!” Momo sighed loudly and flopped back onto the bed, undeniably pouting though Ryoma suspected he had no idea at all that was what he was doing. Ryoma glanced coolly at his sempai as his hand paused, pencil poised over his homework, and figured that for once he’d play along. It was bound to be more interesting than kanji practice.

“What is?”

Momo blinked and looked at Ryoma like the latter was an alien. “What do you mean, ‘what is’? Seriously, Echizen, sometimes it’s like you grew up –”

“In another country,” Ryoma finished for him, voice flat for all that he was smirking. “Seriously, Momo-sempai, sometimes it’s like you’d forget your own name f’it wasn’t on your tennis bag.”

“Oy!” Momo threw a wadded piece of paper at his head; Ryoma ducked, letting it hit the wall behind him and fall to the floor. “You’re such a brat,” Momo grumbled, but Ryoma only shrugged as though he couldn’t help it and leaned back in his chair, fixing the other with a vaguely questioning gaze.

“So what night is it?”

Momo blinked, as if he’d momentarily forgotten his previous statement, then suddenly nodded. “Oh, yeah! Christmas Eve,” he said, nodding turned more sagely now. “Yep, that’s the most romantic night of the year, and anybody who’s anybody’s got a date.”

If Momo noticed the slightly surprised expression in Ryoma’s eyes, he didn’t say anything – and the surprise was buried a mere fraction of an instant later, anyway, so chances were better that he just hadn’t seen. “You don’t,” he pointed out, skipping ahead to the punchline of Momo’s complaining. His sempai scowled.

“Yeah, well, don’t rub it in or anything.”

“How come you never complained about this before?”

“Because!” Momo huffed, making a face like Ryoma should already know the answer to that question. “I’m in high school now! Maybe it’s not important to a junior high school kid, but you’ll learn about stuff like this when it’s time.”

“… Right.” Ryoma made a face – Momo had become nothing if not incorrigible since he’d started high school; he and Ryoma still hung out regularly enough, but Momo was always going on about the differences between high school and junior high like there was more than a mere year between them.

“You still have a week,” Ryoma said, slightly bemused by the look on his sempai’s face. “What, everyone taken already?”

“Everyone good,” Momo grumbled. Ryoma just smirked and shrugged, turning back to his kanji.

“F’you say so.”

Silence fell, but for the scratching of pen on paper as Ryoma traced out stroke after stroke, following the numbers in his workbook. Momo remained on the bed, staring out the window, his own class reading forgotten.

“… Na, Echizen?”

“Hm?” Ryoma finished the character he was working on.

“You wanna do something next week? You know, on Christmas Eve – I mean, not as a date or anything – ”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Momo blinked, as though he hadn’t quite expected the answer so quickly – or to be in the affirmative. Ryoma swiveled his chair around, still smirking softly, as Momo finally opened his mouth in response. “Okay. Okay, yeah, great!”

* * *

Ryoma didn’t have a watch, but there was a clock in the department store window across from where he was waiting and it read 8:25pm. Which was 15 minutes later than he’d expected to be standing out here; Momo-sempai was Momo-sempai, and he’d be late to his own funeral (rubbing the back of his neck and making some lame excuse, no doubt) but this was not normal Momo-sempai lateness. This was just plain rude.

Ryoma frowned and looked around again; sure, it would be theoretically possible to miss Momo coming in the throngs of people out tonight, but Ryoma was sitting in one place and Momo had promised yesterday to meet him here at 8pm. He was sure this was the right place – so what gave? Where the hell was Momo-sempai?

On top of all that, it was starting to snow now, light flakes falling that melted as soon as they touched skin, hair, or pavement, but the air was thick with the promise of snow that would stick before the night was through. Ryoma was not going to wait outside forever. He had better things he could be doing than waiting around for Momo-sempai to show up.

Really.

Except he’d told his parents and cousin explicitly that he was going out tonight (he’d had to specify he was hanging out with a friend, of course, and not a girl, though his dad’s taunts had followed him out the door regardless). He couldn’t just show up at home, less than an hour after he’d left, and expect anything less than ridicule.

No. Echizen Ryoma was not going to do that.

He pulled out his phone, wiping the frosted display with one mittened hand before flipping it open and finding Momo’s number in his phone book, hitting ‘SEND’ and holding the phone to his ear. It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Abruptly, in the middle of a ring, Momo’s voicemail picked up. Ryoma frowned, tried again. This time it went straight to voicemail.

“… Thanks a lot, Momo-sempai,” he muttered angrily after the beep, and snapped his phone shut before shoving it in his pocket again. Great. Just great.

Freaking Momo-sempai had freaking stood him up.

It was the first time Ryoma had ever been stood up.

That was, of course, assuming one could be stood up when there wasn’t a date involved.

Ryoma watched a few more snowflakes fall, catching on his scarf and dissolving into tiny droplets of water, before sighing loudly and taking off. Well, fine. He’d find something to do on his own. And have a hell of a lot more fun doing it.

There wasn’t much for him to do in this part of town, though – it was mostly restaurants and arcades; while Ryoma was hungry, these weren’t the kinds of restaurants one could go into alone, and he didn’t think he’d be able to stand the overwhelming din of an arcade right now. Hands in his pockets, Ryoma headed in the direction of the nearest subway station, thinking he’d at least head somewhere else where there was more for him to do. And where there were fewer people out on damned dates.

Everywhere he looked, there were couples – he couldn’t get away from them on the sidewalk, so he opted to walk closer to the buildings on his left, where he could look into the windows. That didn’t help much, though, seeing as every restaurant he passed was also filled with couples, sitting across from each other and –

Wait.

Wait.

Ryoma stopped dead in front of one particular restaurant – nice, but not quite as expensive as the restaurants two blocks over had been. Some kind of… Italian place – or at least as Italian as Japanese food could get, which, Ryoma had discovered, was a far cry from how pasta had been back in the United States. But the food wasn’t what had stopped him – no, what had stopped him was the figure, two tables in from the window and off to the left, who was grinning from ear to ear and gesturing wildly with a fork as a cute little brunette girl giggled behind one hand.

Momo-sempai.

The figure sitting inside the restaurant eating and talking with a damned girl was Momo-sempai.

What. The. Hell.

Ryoma could do nothing but stare, dumbstruck (though he’d never admit it), for a minute. Then his brain finally kicked into gear, and he was angry. Not just pissed, not just annoyed, but really, truly, completely, angry.

It was the first time he’d ever been this angry at Momo-sempai.

And Ryoma was not going to let him get away with this.

He’d pushed the sliding door aside within seconds; the server greeted him and he asked very quietly to be seated at the table just in front of Momo-sempai’s table, where the other (blockhead though he was) would be sure to see him. The waitress seemed a little confused, but acquiesced, bringing him some Ponta and a menu from which he had no intention of ordering.

Ryoma fixed his eyes on his sempai; still talking rather animatedly, it took Momo a minute to look in the right direction. But eventually he did – and was met with the cool, completely impassive gaze of one Echizen Ryoma, sitting back in his chair and calmly sipping his drink like there was absolutely nothing wrong.

It was hard. Ryoma’s blood was boiling beneath his skin, but what else could he do? He wasn’t so childish as to walk right over there and demand that Momo explain himself. That was far too much work, anyway. So he sat there, eyes locked with Momo’s, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Momo – now significantly flustered – excused himself and pushed away from the table rather abruptly; he came over to Ryoma’s table.

“Echizen, what’re you doing here?” he whispered frantically, jerking his head back in the direction of the girl still waiting for him. “Look, I’m sorry I ditched you like that, but she – ”

“You could’ve called.”

“I know, but – ”

“You could’ve answered your phone.”

Now Momo looked pained. “We were ordering. Look, Echizen, this is a big deal – ”

“Yeah, sure it is. You ditched me.” Ryoma frowned and slid down a bit further in his seat, feeling slightly childish though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be. Why didn’t Momo get it?

“I said I was sorry. I assumed you’d understand! You’re a guy!”

Ryoma could not believe this. He was supposed to understand his best friend ditching him because he was a guy? Screw that. Momo was being more stupid than usual.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? You can’t just ditch me.”

“Well I was gonna call you!”

“Well, you didn’t.”

“Well I was going – ”

“It’s my birthday.”

Momo stopped, mouth still open, eyes wide; it was almost comical, Ryoma thought, as Momo blinked a few times, then closed his mouth.

Almost. If Ryoma hadn’t been so damned angry.

It wasn’t like Momo didn’t know when his birthday was.

“Nevermind.” Ryoma stood abruptly, throwing down the money for his drink and heading for the door. He didn’t look back. He didn’t expect Momo to follow him. The look on Momo’s face had told him everything.

He’d forgotten.

This was the first time Momo-sempai had forgotten his birthday.

It must be because they didn’t go to the same school anymore, Ryoma thought, walking with his head down through the thickening snow. It made sense. The tennis team had always had a birthday party together, and though Ryoma had always said he didn’t need one, he’d never told anyone just how much those parties had meant to him. Even when the third-years had graduated, two years ago, Momo and Kaidoh had still organized a birthday party. Even Eiji-sempai had come.

Everybody must be busy this year, Ryoma thought, with their dates or something.

This was the first time Echizen Ryoma had truly regretted being left alone.

He’d made it nearly four blocks before he heard something – not the usual chatter of the people he was passing, or the music from stores and restaurants. This sounded like pounding, and panting, and just when he turned around –

“Echizen!” Momo puffed, nearly bowling him over, just barely managing to skid to a stop in the slowly-gathering snow. His breath came out in large white clouds with every heave of his chest – clearly he’d been chasing Ryoma a good distance now.

Ryoma just blinked up at him and waited for Momo to speak, saying nothing himself.

“Echizen, I’m sorry!” Momo said, finally. “Really! I forgot – I swear, I forgot it was your birthday, or I wouldn’t’ve – ”

“I said nevermind,” Ryoma heard himself say, words ringing hollowly between them. “Whatever. I don’t care.”

He wasn’t usually this bad at hiding disappointment. He frowned and turned around, heading for the subway station once more. It wasn’t far now. “Go back to your date already.”

“Oy!”

A hand shot out and grabbed Ryoma by the elbow, halting him and spinning him so he was facing Momo again. Momo’s face looked a lot less comically surprised and a lot more genuinely guilty, Ryoma thought, before resolutely looking off to the side. “What?”

“I told her I had somethin’ more important,” Momo said; he seemed to realize Ryoma wasn’t looking at him and pulled them off to the side of the sidewalk, over by the storefronts, so they wouldn’t be run over by the steady stream of passers-by. Momo leaned and shifted until he finally came into Ryoma’s field of view, looking seriously concerned now.

“I said I was sorry, Echizen.”

“I said I don’t care. Lemme go.”

“Of course you care! It’s your birthday!” Momo frowned himself now.

“It’s just a day.”

“No it’s not! It’s – ”

“I know,” Ryoma said, and heaved a sigh, like he’d heard this a million times before – when really, he’d only heard it the once. “It’s Christmas Eve, an’ anybody who’s anybody’s – ”

“It’s your birthday, Echizen. That’s what day it is. Look – ” Momo bit his lip, his gaze sliding off to the side as the hand that wasn’t holding Ryoma’s arm slid to the back of his neck, rubbing embarrassedly. “I know I… I stood you up, or whatever. And I’m really, really sorry. Do you think you could, y’know… let me make it up to you? I’m serious – don’t go home, Echizen. It’s your birthday.”

Ryoma was about to say he certainly hadn’t been about to go home, but the words caught in his throat. He looked at Momo-sempai for a moment, something stirring in the pit of his stomach. Momo really hadn’t meant to forget. He was enough of a dork that Ryoma did really believe that – Momo wouldn’t lie about something like that, not even to make him feel better. And that still didn’t justify ditching Ryoma without so much as a call, but could he really turn his best friend down when he was standing here now, asking to make it up to him?

The answer was that no, not even Echizen Ryoma could do something like that.

“… Yeah. Okay. But it better be good,” Ryoma finally answered, casting a satisfied smirk up at his sempai. “You gotta lot to make up for.”

“Yeah!” Momo said, nodding, his face brightening. “Yeah, okay! It’ll be great!”

Ryoma could already tell that Momo had absolutely no idea what they were going to do. But somehow that really didn’t matter too much.

Ryoma wrangled his arm out of Momo’s grasp, sliding it nonchalantly through the other’s fingers until their hands met, and caught. “C’mon.” He headed one final time in the direction of the subway stop, but for the first time this evening, he wasn’t alone.