The crystal clear blue eyes swept swiftly around the cemetery. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, draping in white the paved pathways winding between the tombs and sepultures, as well as the quiet road in front of the gothic fence, the b.a.r.e trees, and the old, broken church. Even the sky had loss its vivid blue and turned into a greyish-white color, almost as if it was mourning.

In this field of white, when a man clothed in black laid some roses on his family grave, the deep blood red flowers particularly stood out. From far away, the grave seemed to bleed, tainting the snow in a sad yet beautiful way.

"Hi mom, hi sis'. How have you been?" said the man, crouching before cleaning the snow off the grave, even though he knew the light snowfall would soon cover it up once again. "Hope it's not too cold down there."

As he stared at the names carved in the pale grey stone, a tired smile stretched his lips.

Masha Lesskov, 1988-2010

Gulnas Brown, 1968-2004

It had been years since their death, but the ache in his heart hadn't faded. As time went by, the sadness turned into hatred, yet the pain was still the same as always, tearing him apart when the memory of his mother's smiling face or sister's laugh crossed his mind. At night, when the nightmares didn't allow him to rest and dream, he nurtured the bad memories, and his hatred grew more and more every day. Often, he would think of that man, how things would have been different if he hadn't appeared in their lives. Surely, his mother and sister would still be by his side.

Even now, he still couldn't forget the distress he felt at their funerals, nor could he forgive that man or his younger self.

The wind howled, and the icy snowflake whipped his rosy cheeks. The man tugged his scarf upward to cover his nose, then took a deep breath and mumbled:

'Yep. I'm not beating those assholes at my workplace, but in the back alley after work,' thought the man in the back of his mind, refraining himself from saying it aloud.

"So, I hope you're proud of me. I'm finally listening to you, guys, and your 'little' Misha is growing up a bit."

The man bit his lips, holding a sigh. He had always hated being called 'little one' or 'little devil' over and over again, but now, he would give everything to hear them giggle and chuckle while gently mocking the short and delicate build he had as a kid. Though he had grown up quite a lot since their death and couldn't be described as 'petite' anymore.

"Anyway, happy Christmas Eve!" As he said so, he took a flask out of one of his coat pockets, toasted, and drank a sip of vodka. He closed his eyes to savor the strong taste, enjoying the burning sensation in his throat.

After another sip, Misha finally let go of the flask and placed it near the rose, glancing at the bouquet of tulips laying beside the grave. Sure enough, it was there again this year, and once again, he didn't bump into that 'giver of flowers' who lay a bouquet of tulips on his family grave every December 24th, which was the death anniversary of his mother. On the first of January, that person would also add another bouquet, just beside the first one. That day was the day his sister died.

At first, Misha didn't think much of it until his curiosity got the better of him. He did try to ambush them a few times, but every time he waited for them at the gate, they never showed up. Instead, they came the next day when he was working or sleeping, leaving then again a bouquet of tulips before disappearing for another year.

A small smile haunted his lips beneath the scarf. At least, he wasn't the only one left who had enough sensibility to pay his respect to his mother and sister. As the years flew by, the rest of the family and his mother's and sister's friends gradually stopped coming, saying they didn't have the time. Only that mysterious person kept on passing by, always leaving a bouquet of tulips behind them.

Lost in his thoughts, Misha poked the white flowers a few times before slowly shaking his head. What was he doing? He had to get going, or else he would be late for work, and his boss's scolding was quite annoying, even worse than the crying baby next door.

With a sigh, the man stood up and staggered a few steps before steadying himself. Crouching for so long made his legs and feet feel numb. He stretched, then said his goodbye and left, strolling to the first subway station a hundred meters or so from the cemetery.

Folding his clothes, Misha glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and he almost instantly slammed the locker door. Yes, it was Christmas Eve and the whole town, including the bar, was heavily decorated in red and green for the occasion, but was the colorful costume necessary? He had nothing against reindeers; they were cute animals that lived far in the North and pulled Santa Claus' sleigh. However, he didn't particularly like them, and he liked them even less when reindeer antlers proudly stood at the top of his head, adding an unnecessary weigh that quickly made his neck sore.

The accessory was well made, as realistic as possible. Moreover, the clips and leather straps were hidden in his puffy strawberry blonde hair, giving the impression that the antlers were naturally attached to his skull. Fluffy reindeer ears also hung down on each side of his head, covering his real ears.

Misha didn't know where his eccentric boss bought this kind of cinema-like product, but he did hope that it cost him at least one month worth of his salary, if not more. Anyway, Stephan was wealthy, so much so that he could spend money on top-notch costumes for all of his employees now and then, torturing the said employees for weeks when there was a special day to celebrate in the month, such as Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Saint Patrick's Day, and so forth.

Even if Misha found them utterly useless and bothersome, those flashy costumes were one of the main reasons behind the popularity of the bar – the first one being the eye candy personnel and the second, the delicious snacks and drinks.

At least, working there had some benefits, like medical insurance and free drinks, and the pay was high, enough to endure the clients' starving stares, the endless stream of pictures, and the sloppy flirt.

Nevertheless, Misha was still pissed-off at his current appearance and slammed the locker door to vent a bit of his frustration. Day by day, his patience was growing thinner and thinner, and he didn't even have a lot to start with. As long as he didn't blow up, he shouldn't lose his job for the tenth time this year. He took a deep breath and thought of his rent, which still needed to be paid. Instantly, he calmed down. Money came first, and moral integrity, second.

Glaring at the belt laying on a chair in the corner of the changing room, he forced his hands to move and took it with a frown, putting it on. The little fluffy tail was almost weightless, yet Misha was still deeply aware of its presence. He tacitly decided to ignore its existence. Then, he fixed the bow tie, grunting when the clear sound of the bell dangling below his collar resonated within the room and stepped out.

As soon as Misha was out, someone sneaked on him and hit his buttock, making him jump and straighten his slender back.

"For once, you're not late, Blondie," said a sweet, lovely voice behind his back. "Gosh, the tail is way too cute!" The woman couldn't resist, and she tugged the soft tail, her eyes sparkling.

Misha turned around, glaring at his troublesome friend with a dark, unfriendly expression.

"Oh my god! You're so freaking cute in that get-up!" shouted Vanessa without concealing her excitement or giggles, disregarding Misha's foul mood and pursed lips. In the last few days, she took time off work as her daughter was sick. She was also busy with the end of the semester, the endless assignments, and the exams. Thus, until today, she hadn't had the chance to size him up in his new outfit.

The accessories weren't too overbearing or too discreet, creating a pleasing effect once it was added to the bartender uniform. The black vest enhanced the man's slender waist and the white shirt, his broad shoulders. The brown of the reindeer ears and the greyish-white of the antlers mixed well with the strawberry blonde of his hair and the snow-white color of his skin. His crystal clear blue eyes still drew all of the attention, though.

"I'm six feet tall. How the hell can I be cute!?" protested Misha, pinching his nose as his head started to throb. "And why am I the only one in a reindeer get-up, shit. It's freaking unfair."

"You want to wear the Mrs. Claus costume instead?" asked Vanessa with a serious tone, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms in front of her c.h.e.s.t, almost as if she was defying him to say yes.

Misha couldn't help but take a better look at her clothing. The tight and short red dress with a white hem reinforced the curve of her h.i.p.s, and a black leather corset with complicated patterns tightened her already thin waist. A large black belt with a silver buckle strapped her waist over the corset. Laced boots reached the middle of her t.h.i.g.hs, the high heel adding a few inches to her short height. There was a Santa's Hat with a fluffy pompom on her head, her curly brown hair falling on her shoulders.

"Now that I think about it, the reindeer one isn't that bad," mumbled Misha with a sinking heart before walked up to the bar counter, ignoring the loud and hearty laughs that resonated throughout the bar.

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Author's note

Author: Yeah, I think so too. He does have a slender waist.

MC: I. Refuse.

ML: I didn't even have the chance to see you in your Halloween outfit, you know.

MC: Not my problem.

Vanessa: I got some pictures if you want ~

MC: DON'T YOU DARE!

Author: Too late.

MC: Stop bullying me. You're awful, all of you! QAQ

Everyone: ╮(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)╭