Little Red’s body was thin and fragile. Brushes of cold seeped through his young bones, froze his tender heart. The city was quiet. The snow had silenced every noise. But the sad Clown was singing a silly Christmas song - Jingle Bells! - with a smile twisting the corners of his lips, glee colouring his tired face. He twirled the little boy around, small, frail hands between the man’s warm, large, comforting open palms.
“Look, Allen! The snow is wonderful!” Mana chanted cheerfully, gazing up at the sky with great amazement; eyes of a child, the sweetest naivety. He led Allen to one of the stalls; there was a big funfair in the main square of the city, painted in white and bright lights.
Little Red had never had the occasion to go to a funfair. And the first chance to do so with someone who actually cared about him brought a wholesome smile to his usually so pouty lips, cheeks pink and healthy.
Red’s silver eyes sparkled like diamonds, sight filled with a million colours of joy and hope. Green and golden Christmas decorations, the delicious smell of a cake, cooked apples, the chiming laughter of a boy.
But Mana was the prettiest creature; he smiled softly, widely, wearing hilarious grimaces to bring a smile to the mouths of all the lonely children.
“Hurry, Allen!” Mana cheered, dragging the little boy towards another stand. That particular one offered all types of toys; stuffed animals, cushions, pretty porcelain dolls.
Allen blushed delicately as he set his attentive eyes on a specific plushie, a white kitty with a silky red ribbon around its neck. Mana sent him an affectionate look, reaching out to ruffle through the little boy’s already messy hair.
“Do you want this, Allen?” he asked quietly. Allen shuddered and tilted his head to the side bashfully, looking into another direction. His cheeks were on flames, fragile heart hit with the realisation that he could attain something; that someone - Mana, his beloved Mana - cared enough about him to notice his interest.
“I, I...I mean, I’m not a kid!” Red complained, puffing up his cheeks. Mana let out a loud laugh, gentle fingers tangled through Allen’s hair in a loving caress.
“You’re a tiny adult, then!” and he pointed the finger at the plushie, exposing a big, heartfelt smile at the cashier, “I’ll buy this!”
Allen’s beautiful blush couldn’t seem to fade; it grew wider, colouring the gracious tip of his nose. The thin foil of a tear blurred his vision, a knot of emotions wrapped around his heart. Something resembling joy settled into his abdomen.
Mana took the plushie as the cashier handed it to him; he gave it to Allen, put it between the little boy’s shaky hands.
“It’s your birthday gift!” the Clown stayed, always so positive and energetic and magnificent! The little boy couldn’t hold back the tears that had started to roll down his cheeks.
In a burst of happiness, Little Red jumped into the man’s arms, clinging onto his broad shoulders. And Mana cupped his nape, soothing down the shivers that shook Allen’s slim figure.
“Can you sing me a song?” Red asked, head tucked under Mana’s chin, face pressed to his chest. The man cradled the little boy into his arms, hand at the small of the boy’s back, lips resting a kiss atop his forehead. And he did.
Humming slowly, he recreated the melody of an old song. His voice was deep and low, a rumbling baritone that echoed through the chords of Allen’s heart. But it reached impressive heights, distant, melancholic notes. Allen couldn’t look at anything else but him. He couldn’t help the way a tiny smile would curl at the corners of his lips as the man chanted, or the glow of his silver irises, full of hope and kindness.
It was so poetic and so heartfelt and so sad that Allen clutched the plushie to his chest, breath-stolen. There was a heaven of silence amongst the noise of the crowd. And still Mana’s voice resonated through the walls of the world.
Only then, as Mana walked with the little boy in his arms, did Red let himself be lulled to sleep as a familiar warmth enveloped him, love painting his dreams of a tender pink, Mana’s voice like molten butter, his hands protecting him from the monster of a cold winter.
Allen felt that it would never end; that his dream would stay one where Mana held him on a Christmas night and no more nightmares troubled his sleep.
my gift for @redcrossroads for the @dgmsecretsanta2k19! i’m sorry i’m two months late, life has been super hard on me. i hope you enjoy the fluff!
