Archive of Our Own ^beta

28th of December. Three days after Christmas.

Fluixon hadn’t received anything special—extra money from his parents, a new cutting mat from Cynikka, and a voice message from Ender. None of them actually formally celebrated, so he just said ‘thank you’ and moved on. It wasn't a day of note.

He liked the weather, though. Winter, in his own opinion, and disregarding any of the terrible memories it may have birthed, was the perfect season. Summer was too hot for his coat-wearing tendencies, spring was full of bugs, and autumn was far too soggy. Winter, however… the snow was always nice, no matter how far his legs sunk into it. Cold breaths puffed into the air when he spoke, and he still had enough whimsy in his heart to find joy when snowflakes landed on his gloved hand. The perfect weather.

Outside was quiet for once, as well. Most people were indoors, having grand feasts, or maybe meaningful conversations with family, basking in the warmth of hot chocolate and oven-baked turkeys. Fluixon, however was not most people. He had just woken up an hour ago, at eleven in the morning, drank a cup of coffee, and decided to go for a walk in the park for no particular reason. He had nothing better to do after getting in trouble with the authorities for having a snowball fight that became… a little too violent. He blamed Saparata.

Regardless, he was alone now. His own footsteps crunched into the frozen-white grass. Birds chirped on high-up power-lines and cars still drove through clear ice. It was all white noise. Just another layer to his brainfog. Peaceful, though.

A peace which was very suddenly disturbed when a hand struck him on the back rather harshly, causing his two feet to stutter as he stumbled about.

Head swivelling to meet the aggressor, perhaps to chew them out for daring to do that to him, his furrowed expression softened when he realised who it was.

“Flux!” the guy beamed, “Hey, man! Didn’t expect you of all people to be out here.”

Snowbird. A friend. A close one, actually—he could admit to that. They’d met a few years back, along with the rest of their friend group, but Snowbird’s packed schedule and never-ending responsibilities left him out of a lot of their bigger schemes. Student Council, Film Club, Publications Team, even Band, sometimes… it was nothing short of a miracle that he had any free time at all to hang out.

“I could say the same for you,” Fluixon raised an eyebrow, “Thought you'd be too busy with your school-sanctioned ‘projects’ to just be aimlessly wandering around town.”

“Pfft- dude, don't worry, I’m done with those.”

“Oh, nice—wait, huh?”

“Yeah, I finished ‘em a couple days ago.”

“No, I got that, but…” he squinted at him, incredulous, “Didn’t you have, like, five of them due?”

“I just pulled two all-nighters back-to-back,” Snowbird shrugged, “Wasn’t too hard. Anyway—”

He began walking—to where, Fluixon didn't know, but he followed regardless, leaving the confusion behind. Snowbird was kicking snow onto his coat with how jolly he was acting, skipping around like a cartoon character. Hm… his name is Snowbird… maybe that was why he was able to be so productive lately? Maybe every other season nerfed him into the ground, gave him endless fatigue and exhaustion, except for winter. Maybe he got buffed whenever snow appeared. Maybe he was secretly a Christmas elf?

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Snowbird slowed down his steps, choosing to walk alongside him.

“Did you read my message?”

“Huh?” Fluixon blinked, “No… I just woke up.”

“You serious? It’s twelve in the afternoon,” Snowbird snickered, earning himself an eye-roll and a jab to his ribs. After a pained ‘ow!’, he pouted, and Fluixon only scoffed in response.

“Yeah, well, I was awake from one to four in the morning yesterday, cut me some slack.”

“Man, you seriously gotta fix that.”

“Says the guy who pulled two all-nighters in a row.”

“Whatever, whatever, anyway—” Snowbird shifted his body weight into a more dignified posture. He stopped in his tracks, blocking Fluixon’s path with his hands behind his back. The classic stance he put on whenever he was dealing with a particularly unruly student. He would do well in HR, thought Fluixon, or maybe even in politics? It was hard to imagine any of his friends as politicians, but Snowbird seemed fit for the job, what with his sweet-talking skills and all. Maybe as some sort of diplomat?

“Basically, Flux,” he smirked, “I have just a liiittle surprise for you and the rest of the gang.”

A surprise, huh?

That… probably won’t end too well. The last time someone in their group had a surprise, they ended up crashing a car into someone’s garage—or, actually, it was just Thomas’ doing. It was just him. He told them he had a ‘cool trick’ to show, told them he’d been working with someone from the Film Club on ‘a little side project’, only to crash his car into their garage under the guise of ‘I thought it’d actually work as a rocket…’

Safe to say, Fluixon didn’t exactly trust surprises anymore.

“…Is it good or bad?”

“C’mon, when have I ever been bad to you guys?”

“Well…”

Fluixon blinked, countless scenes running through his mind. Snowbird cut him off before he could say anything.

“Nuh-uh-uh, don’t answer that question,” he lectured, “It's a good one, I swear!”

“Mhm… I’m sure it is.”

“Don't be such a skeptic!” he frowned at his wary expression, “That’s for your little movies, not your friends. It’s just a late Christmas present, promise!”

“And this couldn’t have waited until New Years?”

“You think I, Snowbird334, would be patient enough to wait three more days?”

“…You know what,” Fluixon shrugged, “Fair. Alright. So, what’s the… surprise?”

“Can’t tell you! But,” Snowbird grinned, clapping his hands, “I just want you and the others to meet me at the hideout at, like, 3 pm. Will you come?” he paused a bit, before adding, “Please?”

“…Yeah, sure,” Fluixon gave him a thumbs up, “Don't have anything better to do.”

“Awesome! See ya there!”

Snowbird waved goodbye, to which Fluixon responded with a small one of his own. He stood still as his friend ran off, steps marking the snow that caked the streets, violet trenchcoat still a stain on the white environment as he disappeared further into the distance—a stain that Fluixon would like to stay, for once. By this point, all his morning (noon?) grogginess had disappeared, replaced with thoughts that ran… a bit too wild for comfort.

Snowbird was, at least, a welcome distraction from imaginations of an unsure year and an uncertain life—or, maybe, it was too certain?

When you’ve already been accepted into over fifty separate universities, there wasn’t any real reason to try anymore. Elanuelo had paid everything off, and Fluixon could just pick and choose with no consequence. His overachieving tendencies had been burnt out of him after years of all-nighters and attempts at getting better than first. There was no point in acting like that anymore—his efforts had worked, he’d gotten his reward, and all that's left was… well, not exactly rest. Could scheming be considered rest?

He rigged his friends into Student Council, helped in the creation of makeshift (and non-lethal, promise!) explosives—he even threatened some of his rivals out of their positions of power. Maybe he was a bit too scheming, but in all fairness, most of these ideas belonged to the others. He was just the only one competent enough to plan them out.

A gust of wind flew past him, whistling. He wondered if the future would be able to hold similarly nefarious plans. Though… based on testimonies full of unsupervised shenanigans, maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad.

Thorns pricked at Fluixon’s coat as he waded through the waist-deep thicket. He yelped as he almost fell over yet another exposed root. Bushes kept blocking his path. He was forced to constantly shake off the memories of a dense forest, of a deer, of a robin, of blood on snow, of a weapon in his hands. His prosthetic twitched. He took in a deep breath.

‘Hideout’ was a bit of an overstatement to describe the clearing he and his friends usually hung out in. He appreciated the solitude it gave them, being just outside the edge of town and all, especially when they were plotting, but… couldn’t they have chosen somewhere less inconvenient? Maybe an abandoned corner of the mall, or behind a gas station, or in the school basement, or anything else at all. NewKids had offered to ‘renovate the place,’ in his own words, but they couldn’t exactly trust him of all people to not accidentally cause a forest fire.

Fluixon perked up when he heard a conversation in the distance—familiar voices and familiar yelling. Guess that confirmed he was heading in the right direction, at least.

“Took your sweet time getting here, didn’t you?”

Fluixon flinched at the sudden intrusion to the quiet ambience. A casual, almost dry tone that interrupted the rustling bushes, the crunching leaves—dry like the cold air around them, heavy and white as they breathed.

“Thomas…” he sighed, realising who it was. Though he'd never admit it, Fluixon was a little glad to see him. No more risk of getting horrifically lost. “To be fair, the place isn’t exactly easy to get to.”

Thomas shrugged, “At least it’s quiet.”

“You say that, but I can hear your senseless arguing from a mile away.”

“Yeah, because we’re in it. You think anyone else comes here just to fight?” he laughed, gesturing at Fluixon to follow him, “It’d be quiet otherwise. Come on, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

“Oh, shut up.”

As they headed closer and closer to the clearing, the shouting voices began to sound more and more ridiculous. The trees began to part, the thicket shrunk, and the air grew lighter. Silhouettes of people, of friends, emerged through leaves and bushes.

The first thing Fluixon saw was Hvyrotation and Seraphim engaged in a heated discussion about… drinks? Thomas grimaced, glancing at Fluixon’s face to check his reaction: neutral, blank—unsurprised, honestly. This was typical of them.

“You’re drinking cold tea in the cold!” yelled Rotation, “It’s not even warm!”

Seraphim groaned, exasperated. “Cause it keeps me more alert, duh,” she snapped, “I can’t be falling asleep every time I take a sip.”

“You are missing out on so many Christmas discounts.”

“Who fuckin’ cares? A can of AriZona is barely a dollar anyways. I’m getting more bang for my buck compared to just buying hot chocolate all day.”

“Pfft–” Rotation laughed, “AriZona’s not even that good.”

“Oh, you little—” Seraphim stepped forward, though a hand prevented her from getting farther, “You did not just say that.”

“Um, yeah I did.”

“You take that back…”

“Guys…” Gotoga was hovering between the two, pointlessly trying to shut down the argument. He sighed, attempting to keep them apart so that the fight wouldn’t escalate into a physical one. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t very good at playing mediator. “This is such a useless argument, please…”

Fluixon agreed, though perhaps for a different reason. Seraphim and Rotation were both wrong. Iced tea and hot chocolate were both wrong. Clearly, the superior winter drink is coffee. It can be served cold and warm, it has caffeine to keep you awake, and it can be made cheap with an instant version while still tasting just as good. Frankly, he didn’t understand why there were people willing to spend exorbitant amounts of money on machines and tools whose sole purposes were to just brew coffee more efficiently. He'd say instant coffee was far more efficient. Maybe he just wasn’t enough of a coffeehead to get it, or maybe he was just too frugal?

Snowbird was too busy pulling wrapped-up giftboxes out of his duffel bag to notice Fluixon’s arrival. Guess he wasn’t lying about it just being a late Christmas…

After pulling out six, he wiped the snow off his hands and glanced up at the commotion. He smiled when he saw Fluixon, giving him a small wave before glaring at the two squabbling elephants in the room.

“Okay! Guys!” he yelled, clapping his hands. This gained their attention, finally stopping their fighting—for a little while, at least. “Shut up, please? Flux is here! And now that we have everyone, we can… uhh… wait…”

He scanned the treeline, pacing, trying to spot any distant smudge of dark clothing.

“Um… where’s NewKids?”

Seraphim cracked open her can of tea. “Dunno,” she shrugged, taking a long swig as Rotation faked gagging, “Haven’t seen him around since break started.”

“Really? Not even at the mall, or anything?”

“Nope.”

Rotation scratched his head, “There’s no way he’s busy, like, actually studying, right?”

“You think that guy studies?” Thomas snarked.

“I mean…”

Snowbird continued to pace around the clearing as the others giggled and grinned. “I know that kid read my message…” he muttered, “Where the hell is he?”

“Here.”

A quiet voice caused Snowbird to flinch so hard he could’ve broken the record for the highest vertical jump ever achieved by any human being. NewKids was standing right behind him, a wide grin his face—it quickly turned into a scowl when he started glaring at Thomas and Hvyrotation.

“I heard that too, by the way,” he huffed, “I’ll have you know that I am actually a very responsible student.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seraphim rolled her eyes, “Tell that to the homework you made me do.”

“You guys were making me stay up! It was only fair…"

“Whuh…” Snowbird—still utterly stunlocked, poor guy—whirled his head around to stare at him, “…Where on earth did you come from?!”

NewKids tilted his head, innocent, choosing to not acknowledge the way he nearly made Snowbird eat shit on the snow, “Umm… I’ve been here the entire time?”

“No way, you- I- man, whatever…”

He shook his head, warding off the stammering confusion, and cleared his throat.

“Ahem—as I was saying, now that everyone’s here…”

He scooped up the giftboxes. They couldn’t have been bigger than a pencil-case, Fluixon noticed.

“I have presents for you all!”

One by one, and with a smile unnaturally wide, he began dropping them into everyone’s palms.

When Fluixon received his, it was covered in a red-and-green wrapping paper decorated with so, so many elves. Probably more than he could count. Why were elves associated with Christmas, anyway? Usually, elves in other fantasy media—say, those games Seraphim liked to host—were more regal, more individualistic or isolationist. Tall, too. How come Santa’s were more…well, they were more like Oompa Loompas, weren’t they? Kinda short, extremely devoted to their jobs, incredibly productive despite being paid barely half a dime… huh, they sounded a lot like Snowbird, actually.

Seraphim scrutinized her gift sharply, though the slight upturn of her lips betrayed her true reaction. “Why’d you make us go all the way out here for this?” she jabbed, “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but… you know you could’ve just given these at any other time, right?”

“Oh, c’mon, it’s a group thing! It won’t make sense if I give ‘em to you all individually,” A sly smirk crept up Snowbird’s expression, “Plus, I wanna see your reactions.”

Fluixon frowned. “Mine’s smothered in elves…”

“Really?” Rotation perked up, “Mine’s all Rudolph.”

“I, uhh… I kinda ran out of wrapping paper half-way through, heh…”

Gotoga stared at the Santa-covered giftbox in his hands. A thick scarf hid the slight smile on his face. The sun shone a glare onto his ski goggles, obscuring the rest of his sheepish expression.

“Snowbird,” he said softly, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re my friends! It’s chill.”

“I know, I know… I just feel kinda bad I didn’t give you anything back.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Snowbird pat him on his back—maybe a bit too harsh, as he usually does, because Gotoga started stumbling about, “Don’t worry about it, seriously!”

“If you say so. Thanks, man.”

“…Can we open them now?” NewKids was clutching onto his giftbox with a childish glint in his eyes and a small smile on his face—a genuine one, too, not even the evil and mischievous ones he liked to pull.

“Go for it!”

With enthusiastic fervour, he began digging into the elven wrapping paper of his giftbox, just absolutely ripping apart any care Snowbird put into properly sealing it. He could almost see a tear roll down his cheek. Poor guy.

Fluixon let out a light chuckle against his better judgement, and began unravelling his own present. Far less destructively, of course—it’d be a waste! The wrapping could be saved for next year with how impeccably neat it was: not a single crease or any hastily taped-together segments. Snowbird seemed to have a hidden talent for this. Maybe he was secretly an elf…

The clearing began to fill itself with sharp cries of torn-off pieces of paper and the light rustles that came with handling them, like hundreds of dead leaves being stepped on by hundreds of people.

Fluixon reached his hand into the box, feeling out something furry. Definitely covered in fur. A plushie? No, it was more solid than one. A doll? Why would Snowbird get him a—

“Oh.”

He pulled his hand out of the box, the furry object coming with it. It was… familiar-looking, to say the least. The fur was lavender-coloured, though it's face—which also held the most menacingly evil smile of all time, mind you—was a light tan. Honestly, he didn't even know what animal it could be. A rabbit?

“So?” He was interrupted by Snowbird, now all up in his personal space and trying his hardest to not burst into laughter, “Do you like it?”

“Well. Uhm.”

“Snowbird, is this…” Thomas spun his gift around in his hands—it was yellow, unlike Fluixon’s purple, “Is this a Labubu?”

“Yep!”

“Snowbird…”

In another corner, Seraphim looked… rather offended, frankly, and Fluixon couldn’t exactly blame her. It was pretty disgusting-looking. She was just barely pinching the chain, as if even touching the thing could give her some deadly disease. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” she deadpanned.

NewKids blurted out the opposite statement near-simultaneously: “This is the best thing I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

“Damn, reception’s pretty mixed so far…”

Snowbird scratched the back of his head, feigning confusion and embarrassment, though it didn’t do much to hide the laughing sniffles coming out of him.

“Dude,” Rotation scoffed, sticking his tongue out at his light blue ‘present’, “This is ugly as fuck.”

"Hey, don’t be mean to it!” he pouted, “That’s not its fault!”

A small cough interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, uhm, aren’t these—,” Gotoga rotated the indigo fluff around in his hands, “Aren’t these extremely expensive?”

“They’re, like- 20 bucks a box, I think,” Snowbird put a finger to his chin in thought, looking innocent, “With no guarantee of which one you’ll be getting, though, so… kinda expensive, yeah!”

“Are you serious…?”

Seraphim blinked at him, her mouth slightly agape. “That is literally your weekly salary.”

“That is called gambling, Snowbird, and none of us are 21 yet,” Thomas tsked, shaking his head in a pretence of disappointment and disbelief, “Can’t believe you’d do something so illegal…”

“Uuegh, no! Come on, they’re just cute!” Snowbird started bouncing up and down, hands clasped together in prayer, wearing puppy-dog eyes full of crocodile tears, “In an ugly sort of way, sure, but still! How could I resist?! Can’t I just give my friends cute things?!”

“Don't worry, Snowbird,” NewKids awkwardly pat him on the back, eyes dropping down to the black-furred plushie in his other hand, "I love this thing. I’ll cherish it forever…”

“Sniff… Thanks, man…” he cried, wiping a fake tear out of the corner of his eye, “If nobody got me, at least I know NewKids got me…"

“Don't listen to the haters. Never let them get rid of your whimsy…

Fluixon continued staring at his own little gift, ignoring how the two of them were now huddled together, talking about how ‘nobody even understands people like us…’ in the same exact cadence as Deku, of all characters—absolutely disgusting. How did he ever put up with this? More importantly, why were their impressions do good? A deep, exasperated sigh escapes him.

“…You know what? Yeah, thanks, man,” Fluixon gives a slight smile at Snowbird, who perked up, “It's awesome. Can’t wait to be a matcha-drinking, Dubai chocolate-munching, Labubu-having performative male.”