The spirit of Christmas filled the dormitory with an enchanting atmosphere. Twinkling lights adorned the walls, colorful baubles hung from the ceiling, and a beautifully decorated Christmas tree stood proudly in the center of the drawing room. The scent of fresh pine needles and the warmth of the decorations brought a festive feeling to the place.
In the drawing room, Edward, Carlo, and Max gathered together to add the finishing touches to the festive setup. Max was busy fetching ornaments from a box, while Edward carefully hung a small sign on the Christmas tree. It read:
"I hope to get a red scarf.
- Edward"
Carlo observed Edward's efforts with a hint of skepticism and teasing. He remained seated in a chair and remarked, "Edward, whatever you're doing isn't going to work. You've tried that a hundred times before."
Edward let out a sigh and turned to face his friends. "You guys do it, then," he replied, a trace of frustration in his voice. Max, engrossed in arranging the red ornaments and decorations on the table, retorted, "I don't wanna."
Edward then retrieved something from his pocket and proudly displayed it to the group. "Look," he announced, "this is the Christmas present I received last year." It was an expensive wristwatch, gleaming in the soft holiday light.
Max's eyes widened in surprise. "Did you get it by making a wish here?" he asked, pointing to the Christmas tree.
Edward nodded. Carlo, however, couldn't resist bringing up the past. He stood from his chair and said, "Edward, remember the time you broke my watch?" Edward pondered for a moment before responding, "Ah, that was a long time ago." He placed a red ornament back onto the table.
Carlo persisted, saying, "Give me the one you have now." Edward hesitated and countered, "Couldn't you just write that wish here?"
Carlo was not satisfied with the response. "How would it come true?" he retorted. Edward fell silent, his expression turning serious. He faced Carlo and asked, "Carlo, you didn't believe in Santa Claus?"
Carlo's annoyance flared. "Amazing. You're asking me this question at the age of twenty-six?" he scoffed.
Max, ever the curious one, interjected, "When did you stop believing in Santa Claus?"
Carlo was taken aback by the question. He sighed and replied, "When I was young, I was the kind of kid who couldn't fall asleep from thinking about all the presents." He sat back down in the chair, his tone tinged with disappointment.
Max chimed in with curiosity, saying, "Really?"
Carlo continued, "So I saw my mom secretly give me presents every time." He glanced at Max, a hint of sadness in his eyes. Max chuckled softly, remarking, "You were quite the hopeless kid."
Edward added with a grin, "And now that you're an adult, you have to face reality even more." Carlo couldn't help but become slightly annoyed by Edward's comment. "Why do you care?" he muttered.
Suddenly, Max remembered something and changed the subject. "Oh," he exclaimed, "the bathhouse is going to close." With that, he stood up and swiftly exited the room. Edward followed suit, calling out, "I'm coming too!" The dormitory was alive with the joy and camaraderie of the Christmas season, and the friends continued their preparations, each with their own thoughts and memories of the holiday.
Surrounded by the festive decorations in the dormitory, Carlo couldn't shake off the confusion that seemed to cloud the essence of Christmas for him. With Edward and Max temporarily absent, he found himself alone with his contemplative thoughts.
As he gazed at the twinkling lights and colorful ornaments adorning the room, Carlo closed his eyes briefly, transported back to his childhood. He recalled how Christmas had always been a perplexing time for him. The whole affair, with its jolly songs on the radio and bustling shoppers laden with bags full of Christmas cheer, had never quite aligned with his own experiences and feelings.
In his recollections, Carlo mused, "Since childhood, I never quite understood how to celebrate Christmas. Also, I don't want to face the world that is impatiently waiting for Christmas to arrive. The Christmas slogans that resonate from the radio, the shopping bags that are filled with Christmas spirit... All of this is like a sweater that doesn't fit. It has always made me feel uncomfortable."
In an effort to repay his debt for the broken wine bottles, Carlo had embarked on a series of tasks at Evie's family shop, from lugging heavy boxes to loading countless bottles of wine onto delivery trucks. He even played the role of a salesman, catering to the festive shoppers on the bustling streets. However, despite being surrounded by the palpable Christmas spirit, Carlo found himself curiously detached from the holiday's true meaning.
With Christmas just two days away, he couldn't help but ponder what it was that made the holiday so merry and magical for so many people. As he rode shotgun in the wine delivery truck alongside Evie's father, he watched the world outside pass by. He observed countless people bustling about, enveloped in the festive atmosphere, yet Carlo himself felt like a spectator rather than a participant in the season's celebrations. It was a feeling he couldn't quite shake, leaving him lost in his thoughts as he navigated the city's Christmas-tinged streets.
☘
In the austere entrance corridors of the university, Ms. Donna Cortez, the distinguished dean and headmaster of the faculty, engaged in a conversation with Arthur. Her office attire, comprised of a black blazer and skirt, projected a serious and professional demeanor.
With a stern tone, Ms. Donna implored Arthur, "Please ensure that Ms. Honeylyn Beaumont participates in this competition. You are well aware of the university's expectations." The entire institution, including the dean herself, had taken note of Honey's exceptional talent and remarkable performance since the art exhibit. The desire was for her to actively engage in numerous competitions. Yet, Arthur's reservations posed a significant challenge.
"Why is she not showcasing her work?" Ms. Donna persisted, seeking answers that Arthur was reluctant to provide.
However, her words did not go unnoticed, and Arthur could only nod in agreement, recognizing the gravity of the situation. Honeylyn Beaumont held a special place within the university, with high expectations surrounding her potential triumphs. Her absence from these competitions had become a matter of concern for the institution.
As their discussion continued, the dean added, "Honeylyn Beaumont is an exceptionally important student for this institution. She carries the university's aspirations for victory, and her absence is causing complications."
Just then, another figure entered the university corridors, drawing the attention of those present. It was Rika, who cordially greeted Ms. Donna before quietly making her exit. Arthur offered a wave to Rika, and in response, she graced him with a warm smile before continuing on her way.
☘
Arthur and Rika stepped into the quiet confines of the laboratory. The room was softly lit, with rays of sunlight streaming through the large windows, casting a warm glow on everything within. In his hands, Arthur held four substantial architectural books as he offered, "Is this enough?"
Rika, clutching her silver bag, accepted the books with a nod of gratitude. "Yes, these will be very helpful. Is it alright if I borrow them for a while?" she inquired.
"Of course," Arthur replied. As he turned to place the books on a nearby table, his gaze shifted to Honey. She remained seated, her eyes fixed upon a blank canvas. Her contemplative state struck him as unusual.
After their brief visit to the laboratory, Arthur and Rika ventured outside into the university grounds. The atmosphere was a blend of academic seriousness and the serene beauty of nature. Towering trees lined their path, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, as if providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation.
As they strolled, Arthur, assisting Rika by carrying the books, and Rika, with her silver bag, delved into a discussion about Honey's current situation. Arthur noted, "It's unlike her to lack inspiration. This is a first. But perhaps it's a good thing for Honeylyn. She needs to overcome obstacles to grow. That was my intention when I brought her here from France."
Their footsteps echoed through the peaceful surroundings as they continued to converse, contemplating the unique journey that Honey was embarking upon. The tranquil scenery around them seemed to contrast with their conversation about the challenges ahead.
As they walked, their memories of youthful, carefree days surfaced. A group of track club members jogged past them, donned in Santa Claus outfits and chanting an amusing cheer. The sight of the young athletes brought smiles to Arthur and Rika's faces, as if they were transported back to their own college days.
"It hasn't changed at all from when we were students," Rika remarked with a chuckle.
"We were also young and crazy," Arthur added, his gaze fondly fixed on Rika.
"I remember that," Rika replied, her smile warm with nostalgia.
Arthur continued with a hint of playfulness, "I still remember back then, the three of us despised all the noise from Christmas. The three of us wore our summer outfits and went to eat rice cakes."
"We even did a lion dance after we finished eating," Rika reminisced.
Arthur chuckled warmly at the memory. "That was Henry."
However, as the memory of her late husband, Henry, washed over her, Rika's smile began to fade. She turned away from Arthur, her thoughts drifting into the past. "Thinking back, it was like a dream," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy.
In response, Arthur gently patted her back, offering a reassuring smile as they continued their walk down the path of memories.
☘
Carlo continued his laborious task of helping Evie's father repay his debt in the bustling Hamadayama shopping street. Each box of wine he lifted and loaded into the back of the truck felt heavier than the last. As he went about his work, his thoughts kept drifting back to Honey and Evie, who were now dressed in Santa Claus outfits, selling Christmas cakes to the delighted customers on the other side of the market.
He couldn't fathom why Honey seemed so genuinely happy serving customers on this Christmas. Her smile, as she interacted with the shoppers, was a mystery to him. Carlo watched her from a distance, trying to decipher the source of her joy, but it remained elusive.
Just as Carlo was lost in his thoughts, Evie's father emerged from the shop and noticed Carlo's preoccupation with Honey. With a knowing grunt, he approached Carlo, a knowing glint in his eyes. He patted Carlo on the back and remarked, "Kid, today isn't the day to work."
Startled by the unexpected comment, Carlo stammered, "What? Aren't you the one who's making me work off my debt?"
Evie's father chuckled and said, "That's true, I am. But today is Christmas Eve."
Carlo let out a deep sigh, realizing the significance of the day. "Don't worry about that," he replied. "I'm free today and tomorrow anyway. You actually helped me out. You gave me something to do during Christmas so I won't be bored."
Evie's father couldn't help but scoff at Carlo's response. "You're still young, don't act so profound," he teased.
Carlo fell silent, the mixed emotions swirling within him unresolved. He was unsure of what he truly felt about spending Christmas in such a manner.
☘
At Ford Designs, the usual buzz of activity filled the office. Max, stationed at his desk beside Nathan's, was engrossed in his work. His transition into this new job hadn't been smooth, mainly due to Nathan's seniority and his rather challenging personality. In some ways, dealing with Nathan reminded Max of his experiences with Edward.
Meanwhile, Ms. Marie couldn't help but notice the ceramics and vases that Max had borrowed from Evie, now sitting on his desk. She found it amusing that Max seemed to be following Nathan's orders obediently, like a diligent lapdog. With a smile on her face, she remarked, "That's pretty amazing. You do whatever Nathan tells you to do."
Marie then turned her attention to Nathan and inquired, "How was the meeting?" Nathan, engrossed in reviewing a portfolio, replied, "We've set a dinner date. No matter what happens, we need to move fast."
Max chimed in, expressing his concerns, "But aren't we rushing things a bit?"
Marie held a ceramic bowl in her hands and shared her thoughts, saying, "You might have a point there, Max."
Max turned to her, eager to hear more. "Yes?"
Marie continued, "Could you ask the person who made these ceramics to come and help us? She mentioned it wouldn't be a problem."
Max readily agreed, "Sure, she'd be happy to."
Marie admired the ceramic bowl in her hands and expressed her approval. "This has a good feeling to it. I like it."
Nathan, who had been inspecting a ceramic vase, appeared genuinely impressed. The vase, crafted from black clay and expertly molded, had caught his eye. He asked Max, "Did your friend make this?"
Max confirmed, "Yes, she did."
Nathan, with a glint of curiosity in his eyes, asked, "Is this friend a boy or a girl?"
Max, a bit taken aback by the question, replied with suspicion, "Why does that matter?"
Nathan leaned back in his chair, a mischievous smile on his face. "Of course it matters. It depends on what kind of feelings this person might have for you," he said cryptically.
Ms. Marie, adjusting her glasses, interjected, "It's sort of short notice, but could you arrange for her to come here tomorrow night?"
After Max stepped outside the office for some privacy, he dialed Evie's number. As the phone rang, he anxiously waited until Evie finally picked up. Her voice came through the line, a mix of surprise, excitement, and nervousness as she said, "Hello?"
Max, trying to be as composed as possible, replied, "Hello, it's Max. Are you busy tomorrow night?" Evie's tone shifted to one of curiosity and hope as she responded, "Tomorrow? Tomorrow, tomorrow... I'm free. I'm free, I'm free for sure."
Max hesitated for a moment before getting to the point, "Then I was hoping you could stop by my office. My boss wants to talk to you about the last time." As he spoke, he sensed a shift in Evie's expression. Her excitement seemed to wane, replaced by a sense of resignation. She replied, "Uhh... That would be great. I understand."
With that, Max concluded the call with a simple, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow," and hung up. On the other end, Evie sadly closed her phone and slipped it back into her pocket, her emotions swirling as she thought it was something else for both of them.
☘
Carlo and Max were winding down in Max's room, with Carlo sprawled on the couch, half-watching the evening news on TV. Max, on the other hand, was engrossed in an architectural magazine, flipping through pages of sleek designs and cutting-edge concepts. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of a table lamp providing a cozy ambiance. It was a typical evening, with the two friends winding down after a long day of work.
Suddenly, a voice called out, "Carlo!"
Carlo's head jerked up, and he scanned the room, puzzled, thinking he'd heard someone outside. He turned to Max, wide-eyed, and asked, "Do you hear that?"
Max, still immersed in his magazine, responded absentmindedly, "What?"
Then, to their utter amazement, Max's name was called out, too.
"Max!"
Both of them pointed at the television simultaneously, their jaws dropping in disbelief. On the screen, the newscaster was in the midst of reporting on Christmas festivities when an unexpected intruder made his appearance.
There, in full Christmas Santa attire, was Edward, holding a comically large Christmas sign and shouting, "Merry Christmas!" to the camera while gleefully cheering. He was causing a ruckus, photobombing the serene scene behind the newscaster.
As Edward struggled to break free from the grasp of the TV staff attempting to restrain him, Max and Carlo couldn't tear their eyes away from the screen. They watched in a mix of amusement and shock as Edward valiantly fought back, determined to spread his holiday cheer.
Finally, the newscaster managed to regain control of the situation, offering a sheepish but good-natured "Merry Christmas" before transitioning to the next segment. Max, realizing the hilarity of the situation, couldn't help but to reach over the remote and switch off the TV.
Carlo and Max still couldn't believe what they saw on TV, with Edward's unexpected appearance. Max chuckled and commented, "That guy is really capable. Looks like I lost a bet to him." Carlo, while munching on some biscuits, replied, "Even I can't do that," and they shared a chuckle.
Carlo went on, contemplating, "Think about it. Is Christmas an occasion for people to go crazy?" Max, lighting a cigarette, asked, "What do you mean?" Carlo explained between bites of his biscuit, "How do I put it? Christmas is an occasion where truly happy people can enjoy it."
A brief silence fell between them, and Max noticed the weariness in Carlo's expression. A brief silence fell between them, and Max, sensing Carlo's thoughts, asked, "Carlo, isn't Christmas that much fun for you?"
Carlo, stuttering a bit, responded, "Huh? No, I think it's fun. Sorry for being all out of it." He placed his hand on his forehead, seemingly deep in thought. Max continued to gaze at him, sensing that Carlo might want to share something more about his feelings regarding Christmas. Finally, Carlo sighed deeply, and in the cold air of the room, he confessed, "The truth is I don't like Christmas that much."
Carlo's voice held a touch of nostalgia as he delved into his memories. "I lived alone with my mom. She was a nurse, so at Christmas, she'd let me join the pediatric ward's Christmas party. But even if everyone's cheerful, Christmas in a hospital has sort of a, how should I say, unique atmosphere."
As Carlo spoke, his words painted a vivid picture of a young boy's past. He recounted how, as a child, he had joined a group of other youngsters in the pediatric ward during Christmas. His eyes held a mixture of longing and envy as he described seeing parents arriving to visit their ailing children, exchanging warm greetings and heartfelt wishes for a Merry Christmas.
Carlo's mom, a compassionate nurse, played her part in spreading holiday cheer. She greeted her son with a gentle smile and presented him with a small cake, her love and affection palpable in that sweet gesture. But as Carlo was about to express his own joy and return her greeting, a sudden cry from another child pierced the air.
His mother's maternal instincts instantly kicked in. She rushed to the distressed child's side, offering comfort and reassurance, her soothing words and gentle caresses meant to alleviate the child's suffering. Carlo watched this scene unfold, a mix of understanding and loneliness welling up inside him as he realized that, for that moment, he was no longer the center of his mother's attention.
Carlo continued, his voice tinged with a sense of realization and a hint of sadness. "So when you say Christmas... the smell of disinfectant automatically comes to mind or something..."
His words trailed off as a poignant realization dawned on him, and he began to connect the dots of his childhood memories. Carlo's eyes drifted downward as he contemplated the past, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "No. I bet what hit the inside of my nose that time... was... probably..."
The unspoken words hung in the air, hinting at a profound revelation and a deeper layer of emotion that Carlo had long kept hidden, even from himself.
Max's gesture of pouring a beer into Carlo's glass broke the heavy atmosphere that had settled between them. Carlo looked up, his eyes meeting Max's, and he could see the understanding in Max's gaze.
"I see," Max spoke softly, his voice carrying empathy. "Christmas can be a difficult time for many, for various reasons."
Carlo, intrigued by Max's response, asked, "Eh?"
Max took a long drag of his cigarette, releasing a plume of smoke into the air, and then exhaled with a deep sigh. He continued, his words carrying the weight of experience, "In reality, those people who look happy endured a lot in order to receive that happiness."
Carlo listened intently, absorbing Max's wisdom. He took a sip from his freshly poured glass of beer, contemplating Max's words. The room felt warmer, not just from the beer but from the newfound connection between these two friends.
Max went on, his voice steady and reflective, "I always feel that if I don't take it with my own hands, I won't be able to grasp onto what I want."
Carlo nodded slowly, the depth of Max's message sinking in. In that moment, the two friends shared not just a drink but a moment of understanding and a sense of shared experience, both realizing that Christmas held different meanings for everyone and often concealed layers of complexity beneath its festive veneer.