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It was a cool day in mid-December, and in the spirit of the holiday season, a lad named Tivon Silva was hosting a Christmas party.
Dave Mathew had arrived quite early, meeting a near empty parking lot outside the edifice that was rented out. Dozens of guests were expected to arrive for the celebration, at least 60 people must have been invited. How this Tivon guy had both the free time and budget to set this up, Dave had no idea. Nonetheless, he was excited for the festivities.
Within a few minutes, a number of vehicles had parked in the lot. It’s hard to get ahead of traffic on a snow day, of course, but Dave had still expected more people to show up early. Everyone’s vehicles were strangely average. He saw a few white ones, a few black ones, a number of gray ones, and a single blue one.
A certain Mariah Carey song had started playing on his radio, which prompted Dave to get out of the car. It was close enough to the opening time to be out in the cold anyhow. Plus, he was bundled up well. All green. Green coat, green beanie, green scarf, green boots, dark green sweatpants over black tights- which could very well have just been an abnormally dark shade of green.
He liked it when his favorite color was in style. Perfect excuse to wear it excessively.
His caramel colored hair had been tipped with the white of snowflakes within a minute of being outside. He pulled down his scarf and exhaled, delighted to see his own breath. One is never too old to find the little things amusing, it seems.
Before he knew it, the doors were open. People started rushing in through the doors of the building, and in the blur of invitees, he recognized a few familiar faces. He caught up with the rush to greet a friend.
“Hello, Lunar!” Dave waved at his pal.
Lunar jolted back at the mention of his name. His small patch of cyan ringlet strands of hair stood on edge for a few seconds before gradually falling downward to a resting position, nesting in the rest of his deep purple hair.
“Oh, hey Dave. Nice seeing you here!” Lunar’s face relaxed.
“Nice seeing you as well! Happy holidays!” Dave grinned, before going on his way to the main area.
It was a very fancy looking interior. Where the wall met the ceiling, there were garlands with LED lights. Every door was decked out with either a wreath or a small cardboard cutout of an arctic creature, such as a penguin, dressed in winter attire. The glass on the windows was iced, but the curtains were festive. The ledge of every window had some sort of plush, toy, or nutcracker nested on it. Some even had books. Islands and tables were placed sparingly and carefully. A chandelier looking light fixture was present in the main room. There always seemed to be an open chair somewhere. The floors were carpeted with dark gray patterned flooring. The room smelled of vanilla scented candles.
The amount of effort this must have taken, Dave thought to himself. He couldn’t even complete his own contemplation, the area was just so stellar.
Dave took another look around, and noticed another friend. They locked eyes.
“Hey Dave! Nice weather we’ve got out today!” The sea creature laughed a little, showing off their fangs.
“Waterman? I thought you’d be out celebrating with your family.” Dave replied.
“House froze over. Happens every year. Gotta love being amphibious, am I right?”
“Can’t you just buy a house on land?”
“Yeah, but…”
The light-aqua skinned lad paused. They took a water bottle out of their bag and poured a splash of the contents onto their scarf, dampening it to stimulate their gills.
They picked up where they left off a few moments later. “…the housing market’s kind of… yeah, you know what I’m talking about.”
Dave shrugged. “I suppose.”
“By the way,” TheWaterMan continued, “…what’s up with your outfit? I almost didn’t want to point it out, but like, it’s a lot of green.”
Dave beamed. “It’s in season!”
“I mean, you’re not wrong.”
Dave idled in place for a moment. “I am actually wearing white under this coat though. I assumed it would be easier on the eyes.”
“It would probably be easier on your temperature, too. Humans heat up pretty quick, apparently.”
“Oh it absolutely would,” Dave nodded, noting that the heater was on a pretty high blast. “I have no idea where to hang my coat, though.”
TheWaterMan pointed to the rack by the door, where winter accessories were stored.
Dave thanked him and trotted over to the rack. He took off his coat, beanie and sweatpants, causing his attire’s color palette to be much more pleasant to look at.
The door opened again, nearly hitting him in the face. He dodged narrowly. Potential crisis averted.
A man wearing a hooded white sweater with a peculiar looking egg graphic on it walked into the building. He closed the door with his lime green dinosaur tail. He was well bundled up, the only area where any skin showed was around his head in his face area. His complexion was dark.
He noticed Dave a few seconds later.
“Sorry, didn’t see you there.” Yoshi spoke.
“It’s fine. I do consider myself a rather forgiving person, after all.” Dave smiled.
“I’d hope so!” Yoshi replied. A snowflake on his nose dissolved.
“I’m quite certain we should get away from this door before something unsavory happens.”
The green-themed duo stepped away from the potential injury hazard. The moment they were out of range, the door flew open with a large sum of force. Nearly broke one of the racks.
A guy wearing Mighty the Armadillo merchandise stood on the other side of the door, looking surprised. “Oh snap, it’s a push door. My bad.”
Yoshi couldn’t help but giggle a little bit.
“Hello Mark.” Dave remarked.
The Mighty fan clicked their tongue. “Sup, Dave. Who’s your pal over there?”
Dave pointed at his green tailed friend. “That’s Yoshi!”
Yoshi waved. “Hi Mark.”
“It’s short for Q-Mark, actually.” Mark corrected.
“Is the Q short for anything?” Yoshi inquired.
“Yup. Question.”
“Yeah?” Yoshi asked.
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“I said yeah, homeskillet.”
“No, I heard you, I just don’t know what you’re asking here.”
Mark fuzzled their eyebrows. “I’m not asking you anything.”
“Then why’d you lead in with a question?”
“Lead in with- what? No, my name is Question. My parents wanted to name me Weston, but Q-names were in style at the time, and they’re not ones to pass up on a trend.”
Yoshi blinked in disbelief. “...and the hospital just allowed a kid to be named Question?”
“I once met a kindergartener named Leighlay. Both ‘lay’s spelled differently. Believe me, they’ll really let you name a kid anything in this day and age.”
Yoshi stared at him in silence for a moment. “Well, this was a conversation.”
“Sure was, homeslice. Now, they’ve got sugar cookies down in the other room, so I’ll see ya on the flip side.” Mark did a finger gun gesture toward Yoshi before he skedaddled out of the area.
Yoshi was incredibly confused.
Tivon noticed the damaged clothes rack and ran toward the door, concerned.
“What happened here?!” Tivon gasped.
Dave raised his pointer finger up and began explaining. “A guy with a hoodie with a Sonic character on it opened the door a bit too hard-”
Yoshi cut in. “-and his name was Question .”
Dave nodded. “And his name was Question.”
Tivon paused. “I see… wait, where’s the greeter? He’s supposed to man the guest list, why isn’t he at the door?”
Dave shrugged. “No idea who you’re talking about.”
Tivon cleared his throat and called out a name. “Hey, Julio, could you get over here please?!”
Two men rushed into the main area.
One of them spoke. “Hello, other Julio.”
The other Julio spoke. “I think he was calling me , not you.”
Tivon looked at the two men. “I was looking for Mr. Figueroa. Where were you?”
“Sorry,” Julio Figueroa replied. “I was trying to get in on some of that sugar cookie action.”
“Those are some good sugar cookies, I will admit, but you’re supposed to be doing admission for the guests. What if someone who's not on the list comes in? You’re the one who volunteered to do this.”
“I just got distracted, that’s all.”
“I get that,” Tivon gave Julio a thumbs up. “It’s Christmastime, the spirit is in the air. Only natural for us to want to spend time with others in this part of the season. That’s what it’s all about.”
Dave felt as though he was intruding on a personal conversation and left.
Soon, he found himself in a dining area of sorts. A folded paper sign read “ bring your own treats! ”
The table had a lot of snacks, fruits, treats, and even a make-your-own-sandwich bar. Silva went all out with this party.
Dave grabbed a single piece of white bread and ate the whole slice without adding anything else.
Meanwhile, Julio Figueroa was alone, waiting for more guests to arrive. He was fiddling with the v-neck of his azure plus white striped shirt, when he heard a knock on a door.
He unlocked the door to a familiar face.
“Name?” Julio asked.
The guest replied bluntly in an incredibly strong accent. “It’s Ryu.”
“Surname?”
“It should just be listed as Ryu.”
Julio flipped through the guest list, then looked back at the man outside the door. “We don’t have a ‘Ryu’ here.”
The man spoke monotonously. “What about Metal Mario?”
Julio flipped through the list again, and was wide eyed when he found him. “Oh! You’re one of our musical guests! Come in, come in!”
“Thank you. I would greatly appreciate it if you updated my name on the list.” Ryu strode on into the building, holding a particularly small violin case.
“I’ll be sure to do that.” Julio replied.
Ryu entered the dining area and sat on a stool. Dave saw him out of the corner of his eye and turned around.
Ryu opened with a question. “Where is the performance area?”
Dave walked over to Ryu. “Over here, follow me.”
A little bit of exploring later, they arrived at the stage area.
“The duet will be wonderful,” Ryu stated. “I can say that for sure.”
Dave nodded. “I am quite positive that it will be!”
Ryu pulled the festive curtains back, revealing a fancy looking piano with an open top. Dave gasped in awe.
“How did they afford that?”
Ryu turned toward the piano, then back at Dave. “These parties are one of the most important things to Tivon. He saves up all year to make these possible.”
“I can tell!” Dave’s eyes were locked onto the instrument.
“Would you like to play something?” Ryu asked.
Dave’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely! Wait- am I allowed to? Is that allowed?”
Ryu motioned toward the piano. “Can’t see why not.”
Dave ran on up to the small stage and sat himself comfortably on the bench. He situated his feet near the pedals and curved his fingers onto the keys.
He did a very quick sound check. C-E-G, E-G-C, G-C-E, C-E-G . All seemed to be working, it was in key and in tune. He turned his head to Ryu for approval, and Ryu gave a quick thumbs up.
Dave played the compositions that came to mind. The songs were neither classical nor complicated. They were by-ear or by-memory renditions of catchy songs and video game tunes. They flowed into one another, transitioning whenever they felt like changing. Dave hadn’t done it in weeks. It felt liberating, almost. Creating a medley on a whim, tailored to his own enjoyment, for no reason other than “the opportunity arose”.
It wasn't his greatest performance. He wasn’t even focused on making it one. It was simply about enjoying the act of playing.
He was so zoned in, focused on the piano, that he hadn’t heard the newcomer stride into the room. The primary musical guest. Star of the show. Piano player extraordinaire.
He paused a segment, and was met with a single person’s applause. The sound threw him off. He jerked his head to the source of the sound, and sitting in a chair was musical guest Fanchen.
Still clapping, Fanchen remarked. “I didn’t know we had more pianists at this party.”
“Well-” Dave stammered, “I- I didn’t think- I wasn’t aware- I didn’t know you would be here… this fast.”
The one-man applause subsided. “Traffic got pretty bad. If you think this is ‘fast’, you should have seen the people ahead of me! There is no way it’s legal to go that fast on an icy road.”
Dave choked out an awkward laugh. “Yeah?”
Fanchen gave a thumbs up. “Yeah. I’m gonna need that seat by the way. Gotta practice, today’s a big day.”
“Of course! Yeah, you- you take the floor!” Dave fumbled off of the bench and swapped seats with Fanchen, who was sitting in the front row of the audience.
After a few seconds of delay to get positioned, Fanchen played a cover of an anime opening. Girls Und Panzer , which just so happened to be one of Dave’s personal favorite animes. What’s not to like about a show about schoolgirls playing a recreational sport that makes use of military grade tanks?
The performance was one of the best covers Dave had ever heard in his life.
Making use of complex patterns, advanced use of pedals, expert key maneuvers, and more, Fanchen played one of the most impressive renditions Dave had come across, and the cherry on top? All of it was by memory. There was no sheet music on that piano. It was hypnotic, almost. Completely tantalizing, Dave couldn’t distract himself if he tried.
When it was done, Dave was almost speechless. Fanchen looked at the audience (only Dave) as if he had just completed a recital.
Dave struggled to find the words to convey his awe. “That was amazing .”
Fanchen shrugged. “Could be better. I was just warming up here. To be honest, this was really a mediocre performance by my standards.”
Mediocre?
Every single note in that piece was committed to memory and hit correctly. It flowed perfectly and was never out of tempo. It not only did justice to the original composition, it added to it, and by this man’s standards it was… mediocre?
Dave was completely silent. There was not a thing he could say. His thoughts were incohesive and scattered around his head. This was so much to take in at once.
Ryu snapped him out of it. “I think we’ve spent enough time messing around. Fanchen and I are going to use this room for practice, you ought to get going.”
Dave’s eyes darted around. He stood up, gave a thumbs up, and left.
The word echoed through his head after he exited the room. Mediocre.
That’s coming from the guy who was there for a part of his half-effort freestyle. He had to have heard some of that. The intruding question of how he was perceived in this man’s eyes poisoned his mind. He wasn’t giving his all back there- and even if he was, how could that compare to Fanchen’s little warmup?
An ensemble of invitees had made their way past reception since Dave had gone on his little break. Dave had found himself in the dining area again, there were more snacks, and there were crumbs galore.
A man in a sweater depicting a sunset was talking to Julio Aramayo (the other Julio) about the party. The two were talking about how much they liked it. Dave listened in and managed to get a name for one of the two conversationalists; Leo.
Leo spoke in a German accent, albeit a weak one. “I don’t get how Tivon got the time to do this.”
A mysterious voice from across the room retorted. “Maybe it’s because the party is haunted!”
Dave, Leo, and Julio A. turned toward the sound’s source in the heat of confusion.
Emerging from underneath a small table with a cloth was a man in a dark, desaturated, cerulean hued, hooded cloak. The cloak had splotches that looked like optical illusions- it seemed as if slowly moving stars and galaxies were visible to the naked eye. Half of his face was covered by a periwinkle mask-looking covering, the other half was just his normal dark-toned skin. His sleeves were too long for his hands to be seen.
Julio Aramayo stared at the small man. “When did you get here?”
The small man ignored their inquiry. “I’ve heard a few stories about this place housing some strange activity. You three ought to be in the know!”
Leo blinked. “Did… did you actually hear anything about that?”
The little galaxy-cloaked dude laughed. “No, not really… BUT. We shouldn’t rule out the possibility. For all we know, this place could very well be haunted. Cursed, even. It’s one of those things you never know until… you know.”
Dave spoke louder to make up for being farther away. “Were you just down there this whole time?”
The small man paused. “Perhaps. I ought to check with the greeter, I need to make sure there’s a ‘GalacticHypernova’ on the list.”
GalacticHypernova dashed away at an astounding speed, his short dark blue ponytail being caught in something of a wind. Leo, Dave, and Julio A. were totally confused.
The conversation between Julio A. and Leo shifted from the party into hauntings and the supernatural, which Dave wasn’t interested in hearing about. Dave grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and left the two to talk.
Dave sat down in the main area. Taking his mind off the performance, he thought of the gift baskets.
The gift baskets...
He suddenly remembered he was in charge of buying the candy canes for the baskets, which he had left in the car.
Dave dashed out the door into the parking lot. There were a lot more cars than there were when he first got here. With the snow on top, some cars even looked identical. He honked his horn through his keys, and ran toward the sound. Unfortunately, he didn’t account for ice, and slipped.
A hand extended to help him up. Dave gripped on and stood firmly on the concrete, unaware of who had offered him such a kindness. He thanked the kind stranger without meeting his eyes, only to be met with a familiar voice.
“You’re welcome, David.”
The jittery feeling that voice created nearly caused the caramel haired man to fall back down again. Luckily, his hand was still being firmly held by none other than…
“…Hater.” Dave’s voice was quiet and shaky, though if he were asked about it, he would chalk it up to the cold temperatures.
“The one and only.” Mr. Hater winked.
Dave wordlessly let go of Hater’s hand to try and locate his car.
“Walking through the lot by yourself? After that slip up?” Dave paused, pivoted around, considered the offer, then grabbed Hater’s hand again. For totally normal reasons. Definitely just because he slipped and for no other reason whatsoever. Dave walked toward his car.
“Some of the cars here are just laughable. Like, look at that one right there.” As they walked, Hater pointed at a car. It was a vivid pink and it had decals of black and white anime girls on it. Dave turned to observe it.
“It isn’t the worst car I’ve seen. You don’t have to be so negative.”
Hater rolled his eyes. “Fine, maybe it’s not the worst. The actual worst car here is that gray one you’ve got your eyes on right now.”
Dave scoffed.
“Oh wait…” Hater’s smirk could be heard through his remark. “That’s your car, isn’t it?” His words were enunciated with a sense of knowing. Dave knew very well that Hater knew it was his car. He had to have heard it honk, and Dave was the only one out here looking for a car. Even knowing that, it still kind of stung a little bit.
That was, until it got drowned out by the word repeating in his head. Mediocre. It bounced off the corners of his mind like a DVD screensaver.
Dave tried his best to focus on Hater’s juvenile insult.
“Imagine having to go so low that you insult someone’s car. I could never, because I have something called self-respect.” Dave grinned as he opened the trunk to get his candy canes.
“Self-respect? Oh please. I bet you drive around that thing envying every person who passes you by. I’m certain you hate yourself for it.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” Dave closed his car’s trunk, bag of candy canes in one hand, and placed his other hand in Hater’s palm.
“I’m never wrong.” Hater corrected.
The two walked through the door. Julio F. checked Hater off of the admission, though it wasn’t without an exchange of sour looks.
Dave handed Tivon his candy canes and headed for the dining area. Mr. Hater followed. A few groups had gathered, conversing with one another. Julio A. and Leo were still talking.
A person in a purple hoodie walked up to Dave and Hater. Engraved on the hoodie in white were their initials; R. R. , for Roshambo Ro.
The expression Ro and Hater exchanged was not a pleasant one.
Nevertheless, Roshambo started some small talk. “Matching red and green today? Clever.”
Hater smugly smiled. “Of course. We had to be presentable to show up here today. Dave and I are wearing the Christmas spirit.”
Dave knew this wasn’t a coordinated choice between the two of them, but nodded along anyway as if it was.
“You two look great today,” Roshambo commented, making sure to only point at Dave while they said it. “Merry Christmas!” Their hands rested at their sides.
“You don’t,” Hater grinned. “Happy Holidays, Shambo.”
Dave scoffed again, even louder this time. “That’s rude! They look fine today.”
Hater looked slightly downward at Dave, meeting his eyes. “Those aren’t Christmas colors. We look better.”
Dave crossed his arms. “That does not mean they look bad. Even if it did, you have no right to insult them for their fashion choices.”
“You’re only saying that because they bend the truth to fit your whims. The way they describe you as this hero doesn’t check out.”
“That was a one time thing, and it was a story they made up for fun. It wasn’t serious.”
“And about me not having the right to ‘insult’ them for their fashion choices? It’s called ‘free speech’, you of all people should know this very well…”
They continued on. By this point, Roshambo had already left the room.
A few rooms off the main area, there was a dark chamber with fun LED and projector lights. It housed the Christmas tree. Everyone’s complimentary gift baskets rested underneath, and Tivon was placing the candy canes inside.
TheWaterMan sat beside the tree, eyes fixated on the mini light show on the walls.
“What’s in the baskets?” TheWaterMan asked.
“That’s a secret.” Tivon replied.
“I can be trusted with a secret!” WaterMan assured.
“It would ruin the surprise.” Tivon countered.
“Just tell me one of the things! Please?”
“Candy canes. All the bags have candy canes.”
TheWaterMan started to speak, trying to object to Tivon telling them the one content they already knew about, until they realized that technically Tivon did fulfill their one request.
They went back to looking at the lights after that. It was a very pretty display.
Dave and Hater were still going back and forth about the exchange, even as they were leaving the room. Hater was leading Dave to a very particular spot in the building, but to keep him from catching on, he continued egging him on.
Until he observed something interesting.
Hater stopped in his tracks, focusing all his energy into figuring out what it meant. Dave paused his walk as well. A silence was held.
Perplexed, Dave inquired. “Why’d you stop?”
No response.
“Are you going to admit that I’m right yet?” As was done by Hater earlier, Dave’s little smile seeped into his words.
Hater realized what conclusion he was meant to extract.
Glimmer in his eye, he turned to Dave. “You’re holding back.”
Startled at the accusation, Dave denied this. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The Dave ‘Hypocrite’ Mathew that I knew so well wouldn’t be walking on eggshells, avoiding every childish insult that enters his head. I can tell you’ve been hesitating. It’s in your voice, David. It’s in your eyes. There’s something on your mind, eating at you, and you’ve been aching to get it out.”
Dave rested his hands at his sides. “That’s a rather big leap you’re taking, you… you wasp.” He enunciated the last word unnaturally, as if it was a foreign taste to his tongue.
Hater picked up on it. “I’m quite sure it landed.”
“That is completely wrong,” Dave vehemently denied. “I know you love to assume things, but this assumption of yours is far, far from the truth.”
“I don’t ‘assume’ things, I draw logical conclusions from what I know. And I know you better than I know anyone else.”
Hater winked. Dave got a little flustered and nearly forgot how to speak for a second.
“I think,” Dave pointed to Hater. “I think you’re just lying.”
“And I think,” Hater dittoed his hand motion. “I think you’re a hypocrite who’s projecting the fact that you’re lying onto me.”
Dave put his hands at his sides once more. “I’m not projecting.”
“You can drop the act now, sweetheart,” Hater crossed his arms and grinned. “I can hear the panic in your voice.”
Dave sped through the sentence with an anxious air present in his words. “There is no panic in my voice, stop making things up.”
“You expect me to believe that after you literally just said that with a-”
Dave couldn’t bring himself to lie anymore. “You- you know what? Fine! Fine, yeah, maybe you’re right! There is a ‘panic’ in my voice. There is something ‘on my mind’. You’ve… you’ve figured it out. Why would I be getting this worked up if there wasn’t something going on. But I can assure you. It’s not worth dwelling on.”
The intercoms were dead silent. The music had stopped. Through the walls, the sound of bad Christmas karaoke was faintly traveling along the air.
“How about I be the judge of that?” Hater asked.
Dave took a deep breath. His exhale sounded shaky.
“...It’s about one of the musical guests.”
Hater raised one of his eyebrows.
“You know how much I love playing piano. I’ve told you about my college music course. It’s been an interest of mine since I was, what, five maybe? Or was it four… It's hard to keep track. From then until I graduated high school, I took private lessons, the kind that cost a lot of money.”
Hater listened intently. “Of course, of course.”
“I…” Dave’s voice cracked. “I hated the lessons. I loved playing piano but I hated the lessons so much. I hated the music we had to play.”
Tears welled in the corners of Dave’s eyes.
“Everything that was assigned was out of these books where all the sheet music was forgettable and boring music made by dead people. I don’t remember any of the pieces I’ve learned. We could have very well gotten the same value by ditching the lessons and just buying those books, but every uh… every Thursday I’d have to play what the teacher assigned and have her critique it, because that’s how you get experience.”
Dave choked on his words a little.
“Every time I was there, I’d always get sidetracked and play something I liked by ear, and my teacher would always cut me off and redirect me back to the book. Practice was another thing entirely. I could never stay on track. One of my parents would have to be in the room while I played to make sure I wasn’t either skipping the practice entirely or playing an unrelated tune. I have three other siblings, Hater. They needed attention as well, and I was taking it from them because- because I couldn’t do what I was supposed to. I could tell my parents were sick and tired of having to watch me do this every day, something I should have been able to do by myself.”
Dave sniffled a little. A tear began to fall.
“Every year, it led up to recitals and graded final performances. I had to practice a piece for months and months, and it was always some song I didn’t know or care about. I got so stressed, juggling school on top of these high-pressure performances, but I couldn’t just skip them. There was one year where I got pink eye on the day before a recital, and my parents insisted I couldn’t go. All that effort with nothing to show for it. I was crying all day when that happened. You wouldn’t even know it was a pink eye, you’d think my eyes were just red from- from the crying.”
His vision blurred a little. The tears were falling.
“And yet I endured all of it, all of this, just so I could get better at piano. It got to the point where I had a panic attack once a week at some- certain conjuncture- conjectures. But I know how to read music now. I learned these pieces. It didn’t make them any better. It didn’t make me remember how to play them. But it was something. I got nineteen blue ribbons and one pink ribbon for everything. I got four trophies with my name engraved on it. Most of all, I got the skill I wanted so badly, and now… here I am today.”
Dave wasn’t breathing right. His body tensed. Hater grew a bit concerned.
“Then- then Fanchen comes along. I was freeplaying to my mind's content earlier, and midway through, he comes in without me even realizing it, and- and- a-and he, he claps at my performance, and now I don’t even know what to make of it, because right after that, he one-ups me right in front of my eyes, right in front of his musical partner, and… it’s the best thing I’ve heard in years and he calls it- he- h-”
Out of concern, Hater interrupted. “Dave, holy shit, slow down, I don’t want you to pass out-”
“-AND HE SAID HE THOUGHT HIS PIECE WAS MEDIOCRE!” Dave yelled. He tried to take deep breaths, but he just got frustrated when he wasn’t able to “do it properly”. Dave was shaking due to hyperventilation. He felt like he was going to melt into a puddle. His senses were amplified, he could feel the breeze of the air conditioning on his skin. He could barely balance standing up, so he sat down on the ground, practically falling onto it. It felt like his leg was asleep, but more extreme somehow. It was as if it was overtaken by static. He was still crying.
Hater didn’t have a weighted blanket, so he unbuttoned his velvet red suit to use as a substitute. He was wearing a black long sleeved shirt underneath. He carefully rested the suit on top of Dave’s shoulders. It helped a little. Dave kept speaking, but it was all mumbled and nearly inaudible. Hater kept instructing him to take deep breaths.
He heard something about feeling like it was all for nothing, something about Fanchen, and nearly everything else was too quiet to make out.
Then he heard a flood of apologies, which took him by surprise in a manner most similar to that of the mental equivalent of a flashbang.
“Dave,” Hater choked out. “Dave- why are you apologizing to me? I’m not even-”
Almost uncharacteristically, Hater waited a few minutes to think about what he wanted to say before responding. It had to be perfect.
Soon, it came to him.
“Don’t be fooled. He’s not being the bigger man here.”
It was short and simple, and for once, it seemed as if it was all he needed to say. There were a thousand words he wished to add, but this was enough.
Eventually Dave calmed down a little. He still felt the sadness linger. Any trigger could send him back to the state he was in before. His breathing pattern and his heart rate were back to normal. He was sniffling.
Dave and Mr. Hater walked back to the main room, hoping that it could be the factor that could lift their spirits. People were gathered around. They were doing karaoke. Gamerofgamers sang Sleigh Ride. They weren’t doing a very good job, but they were having fun and that was what mattered. Everyone seemed to enjoy it.
Mr. Hater sat down next to Lunar. Dave sat to Hater’s left. Hater criticized the performance under his breath. Dave paid no mind, instead concentrating on the karaoke.
Tivon was quite content with the state of the party. Everything was going to plan.
The song ended, and TheWaterMan raised their hand to go next. They got called on and picked a partner to sing with them.
The partner they picked was a badger-cat-creature-humanoid with white, fluffy skin. Their sclera was yellow, irises blue, eyelashes huge and pupils deep and vertical. Curly pastel pink hair cut into bangs shined, and protruding from their head were two ears, one of which had a charm on it. They were wearing a purple sweater with a heart on it, and their tail was large. Their name was Lys.
They put on Jingle Bell Rock and began singing. TheWaterMan kept tempo with their tail as they sang. Lys did backing vocalizations. It was a very fun performance. Hater was unimpressed.
Then, out of nowhere, a miniature American Eskimo dog ran onto the stage and started barking. Lys and TheWaterMan flinched backward, ceasing their performance.
“WHO BROUGHT THEIR DOG?!” An audience member exclaimed.
Everyone started talking over each other, and the dog started chewing on a microphone cord. Another audience member jumped out of their seat to stop their dog from doing any damage to its own internal organs. The cord to the microphone was broken.
Tivon walked over to the dog’s owner and pointed at the pet. “That isn’t a service dog.”
The owner nodded.
“You read the invite. We can’t risk the complications that could happen if someone brings a pet to this party. Allergies, property damage… Imagine someone getting sick here, a few days before Christmas Eve.” Tivon continued.
The talk went on, and it ended with the perpetrator and their annoying dog getting kicked out of the party.
Tivon tried to resume the backing instrumental, but the cords between the microphones and the speakers were severed, so the backing drowned out the singing.
Then, TheWaterMan came up with an idea. They asked Tivon to turn off the instrumental, and continued the song. They then gestured for the crowd to join in.
It started small, but soon enough, most of the crowd was singing the end of Jingle Bell Rock . Even Hater joined in, albeit quietly. It was a choir, slightly dissonant, beautiful nonetheless. The only person who wasn’t singing was Dave.
The singing subsided just in time for Tivon to announce the big event. It couldn’t delay itself any longer. It was time for the concert.
The time had come. The stage was set, but the curtains were not yet open. The auditorium was filled, everyone had gathered around to listen to the duet.
Behind the curtain, Fanchen and Ryu were getting into position. In front, Tivon was standing, gazing into the audience.
The low-volume discussion between members of the crowd echoed throughout the room, mixing together to create a white noise of sorts. It all came to a stop when Tivon tapped on his wireless microphone, sending a noise through the auditorium. The room was dead silent.
After a brief mic check, Tivon began a short speech.
“In this day and age, it’s so easy to believe what they say on TV. All the advertising and sales could lead someone to believe that Christmas is about what you can buy for someone else. That Christmas is a commercial holiday that was spawned for us to spend as much money as we possibly can on physical gifts and trinkets so we can wrap them up and give them to our families.
“But that’s not what Christmas is. This holiday is about spending time with others. Christmas is a time of togetherness, which is why I’m so grateful you chose to spend this December day here at this party. Real gifts don’t have to be presents. The most authentic gift you could give someone is your presence. Just being there for someone is the most universal gift of all…”
Tivon continued his speech, but Dave was mentally blocking it out. Hater noticed this, and tried interjecting with his own insight to lighten the mood.
“I bet this concert they’ve been hyping up is gonna sound terrible.”
Dave retorted, quietly. “Easy for you to say, you don’t understand art when you see- or rather, see-slash-hear it. Also… you’ve never heard either of them play, so you don’t get an opinion on this.”
Hater whispered back. “Aren’t you the guy who said we shouldn’t base our opinions on what other people say about things? You said you think this concert is going to be good, and I’m not going to base my thoughts on what you think.”
Dave stammered. “You- that is heavily out of context. There is a lot of missing context to that.”
Hater smirked. “Average hypocrite sentiment.”
The speech continued on. The lights dimmed. It ended by the time the lights went dark, and a flurry of claps bounced through the room with the speech’s completion.
Tivon finished up by leading into the performance.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else! We proudly present our musical guests... everyone clap it up for Fanchen and Ryu, performing iconic Christmas classics in a piano-violin duet!”
Applause reverberated through the room, as the rosy red curtains began to part. Two spotlights were placed on Ryu and Fanchen respectively, the biggest one illuminating the latter and his piano. The light reflected off the stage’s shiny wooden floor, creating a hazy warm brown look for those farther back in the audience. Fanchen’s fingers were curved on the keys as he sat on the bench, feet touching the pedals. Ryu sat in a fancy dark-wood chair, posture straight, holding the viola and the bow as if he were a professional.
Tivon exited the stage and sat down near the front row, prompting the first rendition to start.
They opened with Carol of the Bells.
Ryu was the star of the performance, beginning quietly and crescendoing gradually. He played elegantly and matched Fanchen’s backing. Fanchen’s job for the opener was to accentuate Ryu’s playing. The frequent legato chords and staccato stabs of differing volumes demonstrated a mastery of this. It harmonized the filling viola, and it matched the volume perfectly. It felt like more than a collaboration. It was a show of unity. Fanchen and Ryu played the song in such a way that if one of them were absent, the song would feel incomplete.
There were brief moments in which Fanchen got a bit show-off-y, using advanced techniques for the sake of sounding advanced, but it seldom happened, as the focus was primarily on Ryu’s reverberating strings.
Midway through, it changed its key. The piece transposed a half step up, and the two transitioned into it smoothly. The audience was in awe.
The piece quieted down in a diminuendo toward the end, then heightened in volume for the final notes. It went out with a bang. They paused for applause, and applause they got. The crowd was cheering.
Dave, having felt every note in his soul, was completely frozen. Speechless.
Even Hater was impressed, albeit just a little. He didn’t admit it though, unwilling to go against his warped self-perception of never being wrong. He didn’t clap at all.
Lunar clapped for the sake of courtesy, though he made no other sounds. He thought it was a solid opener, but he didn’t think it was worth getting all extra for.
The applause faded, and the musical duo went to their next piece, Deck the Halls.
This time, Fanchen centered himself as the main attraction, almost drowning out Ryu. Fast and distracting arpeggios alongside noticeable harmonies and skillful maneuvers, it was a very technically advanced piece, but it wasn’t that fit to be a duet. It took a lot of talent and practice to play the part, but it felt more like a show of Fanchen’s individual skill rather than a united performance.
Yet, the audience ate this up, clapping incredibly hard afterward.
Hater didn’t care that the maneuvers were complicated, because some of them sounded easy. He’d never played piano in his life, so he couldn’t really appreciate the skill level, which was the defining layer that carried the performance. Henceforth, the performance was lost on him. He didn’t think it was very good.
Dave, on the other hand, felt an air of jealousy- unwanted jealousy, but jealousy nonetheless. This feeling branched off into a lot of what he was feeling before, the conflicting melting pot of regret, anger, sadness, and just a pinch of feelings of inferiority. Fanchen could play something so complex, but he couldn’t, and that overpowered everything. Still, he presented it as him being impressed, and clapped along.
Lunar saw it for what it was. Fanchen was showing off. Lunar knew he had all this talent, and he thought Fanchen was using it to make people think he was smarter than he actually was. Lunar was not a fan. He didn’t even clap.
Piece after piece, the performance continued, most renditions bearing similarity to the second one in style, centering Fanchen and drowning out Ryu, and it seemed like Lunar was the only one aware of what was really going on. It all went so fast. Eventually, the performances concluded, and the ending was met with an uproar of applause and cheer. The spotlights dimmed, and the lights gradually faded back to their full capacity. Ryu curtseyed, and everyone walked back to the main area in orderly fashion.
As most of the participants walked up to Fanchen to congratulate him on his performance, Dave felt something, a feeling he couldn’t identify. Some sickly combination of jealousy, envy, and amusement at the skill of Fanchen’s performance. It coursed through his veins, but he couldn’t make a sound. It simply stewed within him.
He overheard Lunar’s passive slander of Fanchen’s work. Dave thought it would make him feel better, but somehow, he felt worse upon hearing it. It wasn’t the validation he thought he wanted.
The group headed toward the room with the LED lights and the Christmas tree, where all the gift baskets were stored. Dave followed absentmindedly, his thoughts still residing in that of Fanchen’s comment.
That single word echoed in his head louder than ever.
It drowned out Tivon’s words. It drowned out all the voices of his friends and acquaintances wishing one another happy holidays. It drowned out their names being called to pick up their baskets.
A nudge on the shoulder brought him back to reality for a brief minute, he missed his own name being called a few times, and he had to pick up his basket. He grabbed it, practically operating on autopilot, and didn’t even bother to check the contents. He was lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts as he walked back to his original position, then out of the room.
He didn’t even realize he’d followed Fanchen out of the room. He didn’t even realize he was heading toward the door until Fanchen and his associate slash ride home took note of him and tried to spark up a conversation.
Dave wasn’t sure how he was greeted, all he knew was that Fanchen and some guy with strawberry pink hair plus a very choice hoodie- styled with some very strange pictures of anime girls- were trying to initiate some form of small talk.
All Dave could choke out was an awkward “Hey”.
Fanchen made a small wave gesture with his hand. “You’re the guy from earlier. That one guy who was playing the piano when I got there.”
“Yeah…?” Dave wasn’t sure if that came out as a question or not.
“I liked it, by the way. What you did back there. You’ve got passion.”
More feelings topped the ones he already had. Mostly positive, still very overpowering. There was a part of his mind that insisted that it was sarcastic, but all logic pushed against it.
After a short pause, Fanchen put his hand on the door handle and opened it up. “Well, I’ve got places to be. See you next December, maybe.”
Fanchen walked out the door with his orange and pink haired companion. The two strode toward a particularly eccentric car.
A pink car covered with decals of anime girls.
Dave was taken aback. This masterful pianist was hitching a ride in this vehicle that could at the very least be described as less-than-professional, amongst other things.
All of a sudden, most of his anxieties were alleviated.
The pit in his stomach completely subsided, and for the first time since that fateful first encounter with Fanchen, Dave felt like he was welcomed in this party. A person is not without their quirks, and Dave finally understood that Fanchen was not exempt from this. He wasn’t some sort of figurehead. He wasn’t some one-dimensional piano professional. He was just another resident at the party, and it comforted him like a quilt knitted with compassion to be able to take that in.
The car moved out of his line of sight, and Dave turned around to meet Hater’s eyes.
They locked one another in a stare for a brief moment.
“Leaving so soon?” Hater inquired.
Dave’s eyes darted toward the door, then back at Hater. “Oh, no, not at all. I was just…”
A pause.
Mr. Hater adjusted his hat. “Glad to see you back from whatever fantasy you were spaced out in.”
“I’m also glad. Glad I’m back. Yeah.” The words came out wrong, but Dave wasn’t concerned about that.
“That guys got a weird fucking car.”
Dave changed the subject. “Hey, wasn’t there something you wanted to show me?”
Hater raised an eyebrow.
“Earlier,” Dave elaborated. “You were trying to take me somewhere, to a room or something, and then you just stopped in your tracks because I was… being weird, we’ll say.”
Mr. Hater took a moment to recollect, then it clicked.
“Oh yeah,” Hater smirked. “Follow me.”
They held hands as they traversed throughout the building. They went down a peculiar hallway and were met by a door at the very end.
Dave opened the door, the room was dark and unattended. It was a storage room.
Perplexed, he turned to Hater. “I don’t get it, what’s so special about this room?”
Without hesitation, Hater pointed up. Dave gazed upward, then back down.
“Hater, there’s nothing up there.”
His smug expression broke. This wasn’t part of his plan. He turned his head upward, and lo and behold, there was nothing resting atop the doorframe.
“What the-?” Hater blurted out. “Where the hell did it go?!”
Dave suddenly understood the sentiment. “Wait a minute… were you trying to get me under the mistletoe?” A little smile managed to seep its way through his words.
“Yes, but now it’s gone! I had this whole fucking- this whole thing planned, how did it just disappear?” Hater looked a tad bit pissed off.
Dave replied with a suggestion under his breath. “We could still pretend it’s there though, maybe?”
Hater let out a breathy sigh. “I’ve got to get to the bottom of this first, I don’t get it. It’s a plant. It couldn’t have just walked away.”
Hater left Dave at the door and confronted as many groups of individuals as he could find, asking around about the mistletoe until he got an answer. All he was met with were confused souls who either didn’t know what he was talking about, or people who knew that there was a piece of mistletoe there and didn’t know that it was missing. The only person who was able to offer any sort of explanation was some guy in a cloak patterned with galaxies who went on to claim that the mistletoe must have been haunted.
He then went on to ask Tivon this, and the only insight he could acquire was that someone had to be sent home during karaoke because they ate some “weird cherries”.
Hater, feeling absolutely livid due to the notion that someone went out of their way to consume a Christmas decoration, went back to Dave to report.
Dave idled in place as he spoke. “…So…? Did you figure out what happened?”
“Some impotent moron ate the goddamn mistletoe.”
Dave stood upright, blank faced. “Oh.”
“I mean, how fucking stupid do you have to be to see something on a doorframe and think, I’m gonna put that in my mouth? You have to be five years old to think something like that, that or you have to have the mental capacity of one-”
“-Actually…” Dave cut in.
Hater stopped for a second.
“...I got some more, look up!”
Hater turned his head upward, and was met with nothing. Masterfully deceived, he scoffed without looking down. “No you didn’t, you-”
Dave pecked him on the cheek with a singular short and succinct kiss.
Hater slowly turned his head down to meet Dave’s eyes. He had no words. Dave had outplayed him. He’d been outplayed by none other than Dave Mathew. Hater was blushing. Dave was the one wearing the signature smug grin that Hater had been so insistent on wearing this whole party.
The two were locked in each other’s gazes. Nothing was said, but it was understood. The spirit was in the air.
There was no past, no future, only present, and frozen in this moment was emotion, raw as it could come. The two knew what Tivon was trying to say earlier. This was more of a gift than any gift bag they were given. Their hands interlocked under the mistletoe, the warming touch of Hater’s hands balancing Dave’s icy palms.
Christmas had come early.