18 sheep in the heap
title: gifted
pairing: none
word count: 2318
rating: G
December 25, 2011. Ten years old, and the biggest Christmas haul he'd ever received. There were presents from his family and his family's friends and even a gift from one of the royal children—one of the princesses that he would hopefully someday wed, supposedly. Even some of the people they knew in the Euroverse had sent gifts for Gino and his siblings; expensive, imported things that were honestly more for their parents' benefit than the children's, because what would a ten-year-old boy want with delicate decor such as this? All in all he counted roughly sixty-five gifts. Clothing, mostly, and new books. One was a brand new piano which had already been set up in the parlor for him to play. After brunch he had promised his mother he would play Christmas carols, one of his brothers agreeing to accompany on the violin and his sisters agreeing to sing. His mother had said she would like that very much, thank you.
Gino's eldest brother had received the most out of all of them, naturally, since he was now connected to the family of a German duchess and had become quite popular in the Euroverse. The middle sister, too, who had married another Britannian duke (her fourth cousin, truth be told, but a wealthy cousin nonetheless) was also the recipient of many lavish gifts from her new family. The two youngest Weinberg children, six and seven, received the least, but it was customary not to spoil ones so young. They, as well as Gino, it seemed, were content to watch their elder siblings carrying on about their gifts and who gave them, modeling the accessories, the jewelry. There was quite a clamor over Antonio, the third brother, who had in addition to his Christmas gifts received a letter informing him of his acceptance into the Britannian military (where by 2015 he would be killed in Area 18, but during this moment no one could have ever suspected such a thing).
Wrapping paper had at one time littered the drawing room floor, but as everyone's presents were moved to where they belong, so too did the mess, expertly cleared away by a subtle and silent staff of servants. The celebratory crowd dispersed and Gino waited until the room was empty, remaining in the room under the pretense of admiring the tree one more time before it was taken down. Once alone he crawled underneath the scratchy, aromatic pine branches and made his way to the far corner of the room, blocked by the gigantic tree. There, one final present remained, wrapped hideously in pale green paper and tied with a poorly constructed red bow. Gino retrieved the gift deliberately and made his way out from under the tree, careful to brush away any nettles before departing from the drawing room himself.
He moved as if he had rehearsed this for days (and in fact he had), surreptitiously leaving the building and crossing the grounds with the ugly Christmas gift tucked under his arm. No one except one of the gardeners noticed him strolling along the walkways unaccompanied and raised no question about it, anyway, since it wasn't an uncommon sight for the young master to be out on his own, taking in the fresh air but not seeming to appreciate it at all, judging by the blank and disinterested expression he nearly always wore. Before long, Gino had disappeared into the aviary, which was also incredibly common for him, and the gardener put it from his mind.
The sound of singing birds made it impossible for Gino to even hear himself think, at times, but today it was exceptionally quiet because many of the birds had been kept only to be given away as gifts. There were still a few that trilled as he passed their cages, but for once he didn't stop to look at them and made his way around to a sitting area where a servant was diligently sweeping the floor. Gino regarded her as blankly as he did anything else for a long moment, but when he spoke it was surprisingly warm, sounding to him as not quite right: "Excuse me."
Turning, the maid looked surprised for a moment, but upon seeing who had called her, smiled and bowed at the waist, setting her broom aside. "Master Gino, hello."
Gino couldn't help himself, suddenly—he smiled a little bit, too, and extracted the hideous present from under his arm, holding it out to her. "Merry Christmas, Masuyo."
"Oh!" Masuyo recoiled from the offering a little, alarmed and, it seemed, embarrassed. Her gaze shifted from the box to Gino once or twice and finally she reached out to take it, however hesitantly, believing it better than refusing or making him insist. "What is it...?"
"For you."
The answer didn't do much to clear things up, but the maid smiled anyway, looking down at the poorly-wrapped gift in her hands and then back at Gino, bowing again. "Thank you, Master Gino." Gino nodded in response, still faintly smiling, but then the two of them simply stood there looking at each other in silence and the air became somewhat tense. Finally, Gino spoke, inclining his head with a frown. "Aren't you going to open it?"
"Oh, of course! I'm sorry." Startled, Masuyo began tentatively picking apart the wrapping, starting with the bow, which came undone almost a little too easily. The rest of the paper came off just as quickly, having not been taped down at all. Neither was the box, so that when the paper was removed, the lid nearly sprang open in her hands, startling her again. She glanced up in her embarrassment to find that the corners of Gino's lips had quirked just slightly and it seemed to hearten her enough to continue, reaching into the box and groping past the packing tissue to find what was inside.
Suddenly, her hand retracted from the box as if she'd been bitten with another soft cry of "oh!" Gino's eyes widened. "What's wrong? Did it pinch you?"
"No, I..." Unable to find words, Masuyo simply stared down at the box, then back at Gino, then down at the box again, becoming more and more distressed each time. At length she held the box out to its giver, trembling visibly and audibly as she did so. "I'm sorry, Master Gino. I couldn't possibly accept this, I..."
"I'm giving it to you. You won't take it?" Gino sounded confused rather than angry, but Masuyo gave him a tremulous, scolded look all the same, her mouth open but nothing coming out except empty stammers. Slowly, Gino's head inclined again, and his words came gradually, unsure. "You... don't like it?"
Masuyo quickly shook her head. "No, Master Gino! I like it very much! But it's... well, it's..."
"What?"
There was a lengthy pause before Masuyo was able to speak again. "I-I only think that it's far too valuable for someone like me to keep."
"It isn't valuable," said Gino plainly, "My sister didn't want it. She gave it to me." He waved his hand, indicating himself, and then indicating Masuyo. "It's not for boys to wear."
"Oh, no—" started Masuyo, but quickly silenced herself. Another long stretch of silence followed, with Gino seeming quite expectant and Masuyo seeming quite afraid to proceed. Finally, she retracted the box, since it was clear that Gino wasn't going to take it back, and slowly lowered her eyes to peer inside again. "I really couldn't..."
Gino folded his arms. "Please, do consider keeping it. I want you to have it." Then, deeming it important that he emphasize its significance, added, "It's a Christmas gift."
The maid seemed doubtful but flushed with what Gino took to be happiness, anyway, and carefully reached into the box again, lifting its contents out so that she could see them better. A delicate golden brooch glimmered in the light of the aviary, a single diamond in the center of the heart pattern creating a rainbow of light on her face. As Masuyo turned it over she seemed to quiver and flinch, afraid that she might drop it, or break it simply from having such a precious thing in her hand. Then, with a sigh, she pursed her lips into a thin smile and tucked the brooch into her apron, bowing much more deeply than before. "Thank you, Master Gino. I'll carry it with me always."
Relief wrote itself on Gino's face, and he inclined his head again in a bow of his own, smiling in earnest at her just before he turned to leave, as if this had been nothing more than a simple business meeting. It was very clear to him, and also to Masuyo, that this brief exchange was far more personal than something as innocuous as a business meeting, but the implications and feelings thereof would not be discussed for several more years.
—
December 25, 2018. Eighteen years old, and he had not received a single gift. This was, of course, because all of his gifts were waiting for him on the first floor of Ashford's student council building and not underneath the tiny potted fir tree he had placed on top of the piano in his apartment. A tiny lit-up star and one single miniature bulb dangled off the scraggly branches. Leaning over it as if trying to blow the star out like a candle, Gino leaned down and turned off the switch. He had planned an errand ahead of time that would push his Christmas celebration at school back for a little while, so he figured it best that he turn the tree off. "Fire hazard," as Anya had ever so astutely pointed out when she had come to see his new place.
Silently reminding himself that he would need to drop by and take gifts to her and the others out on the farm later, Gino picked up his keys and left the apartment. The distant trill of birds in the treetops and wireless towers seemed to herald his departure. He laughed to himself and turned the car radio up louder.
Arriving at the front gate of the estate, Gino pulled alongside the curb rather than parking it properly and hopped out. A servant came rushing down the path to open the gate for him and was quickly informed that it wasn't necessary. "I can let myself in," he said, patient and yet with a steely sort of look so that the servant recoiled a little, lowering his head. Gino quickly corrected himself and tacked on, "But thank you."
"Of course," murmured the servant.
"I just want to make this super quick, so would you mind not telling anyone I stopped by?"
"If that's what you'd prefer, sir," murmured the servant.
Gino smiled, patting the smaller boy on the shoulder. "Thanks. And just call me Gino." Before the servant could respond Gino was on his way up the path, walking with long, brisk strides. Even if it had been years since the last time he had strolled across the grounds this way, he still knew them by heart. As he approached the third building he caught one of the gardeners watching him from the corner of his eye and smiled at him, too. Imagine how unusual it must be, he thought, to see young Master Gino meandering about the grounds again.
With no one to hinder his progress upstairs, Gino reached his bedroom by taking the stairs three and four at a time. It had been left essentially untouched; they had obviously ransacked it at first, in search, perhaps, of a reason for his sudden and unexplained departure some three years previous. Surely it hadn't taken them long to figure out where he had gone and for what reason, which is why everything in the room was still intact, for the most part. It had been kept immaculately clean despite its vacancy and Gino was pleased to find that nothing had been stolen. At least, nothing he cared about. His hiding places had been clever, but the things he valued—that he really wanted to hide, were more so. Opening a drawer yielded several sketchbooks; searching the top shelf of his closet revealed a small compartment where a collection of his favorite sheet music, unceremoniously torn from their respective books, was folded several times over and bound together with a rubber band. Between his mattress he found a collection of ribbons in various colors and under the cabinet in his bathroom he located, with an unexpected swell in his heart, a battered, stuffed bear wearing a fine, silk lapel waistcoat emblazoned with the letter F in gold stitching. Holding this treasure to his chest, he proceeded to his desk where he lifted off the shade of the lamp there, unscrewed the light bulb, and turned the base upside down, emptying its contents into his hand: a golden, diamond-encrusted brooch in the shape of a heart.
These things as well as some others were placed in a bag he had brought along with him and Gino was as quick to leave the Weinberg estate as readily as he'd arrived, unperturbed by anyone except the servant boy at the gate who opened it for him again, despite its unnecessity, and smiled tremulously as Gino got into his car and drove away.
Gino returned to his apartment and placed each of the treasures rescued from his childhood home under the scraggly, dead bit of twig on top of his piano. A ribbon around the stuffed bear's wrist and the golden brooch in his paw, and before he left for the second time to attend the Ashford Christmas party he kissed the teddy's head and laid his handkerchief over his lap, shifted a potted chrysanthemum over to give him shade from the midday sun's window light, and tucked a yellowing, home-made card between him and the "tree" that read, "Merry Christmas, Gino, Love Masuyo."
pairing: none
word count: 2318
rating: G
December 25, 2011. Ten years old, and the biggest Christmas haul he'd ever received. There were presents from his family and his family's friends and even a gift from one of the royal children—one of the princesses that he would hopefully someday wed, supposedly. Even some of the people they knew in the Euroverse had sent gifts for Gino and his siblings; expensive, imported things that were honestly more for their parents' benefit than the children's, because what would a ten-year-old boy want with delicate decor such as this? All in all he counted roughly sixty-five gifts. Clothing, mostly, and new books. One was a brand new piano which had already been set up in the parlor for him to play. After brunch he had promised his mother he would play Christmas carols, one of his brothers agreeing to accompany on the violin and his sisters agreeing to sing. His mother had said she would like that very much, thank you.
Gino's eldest brother had received the most out of all of them, naturally, since he was now connected to the family of a German duchess and had become quite popular in the Euroverse. The middle sister, too, who had married another Britannian duke (her fourth cousin, truth be told, but a wealthy cousin nonetheless) was also the recipient of many lavish gifts from her new family. The two youngest Weinberg children, six and seven, received the least, but it was customary not to spoil ones so young. They, as well as Gino, it seemed, were content to watch their elder siblings carrying on about their gifts and who gave them, modeling the accessories, the jewelry. There was quite a clamor over Antonio, the third brother, who had in addition to his Christmas gifts received a letter informing him of his acceptance into the Britannian military (where by 2015 he would be killed in Area 18, but during this moment no one could have ever suspected such a thing).
Wrapping paper had at one time littered the drawing room floor, but as everyone's presents were moved to where they belong, so too did the mess, expertly cleared away by a subtle and silent staff of servants. The celebratory crowd dispersed and Gino waited until the room was empty, remaining in the room under the pretense of admiring the tree one more time before it was taken down. Once alone he crawled underneath the scratchy, aromatic pine branches and made his way to the far corner of the room, blocked by the gigantic tree. There, one final present remained, wrapped hideously in pale green paper and tied with a poorly constructed red bow. Gino retrieved the gift deliberately and made his way out from under the tree, careful to brush away any nettles before departing from the drawing room himself.
He moved as if he had rehearsed this for days (and in fact he had), surreptitiously leaving the building and crossing the grounds with the ugly Christmas gift tucked under his arm. No one except one of the gardeners noticed him strolling along the walkways unaccompanied and raised no question about it, anyway, since it wasn't an uncommon sight for the young master to be out on his own, taking in the fresh air but not seeming to appreciate it at all, judging by the blank and disinterested expression he nearly always wore. Before long, Gino had disappeared into the aviary, which was also incredibly common for him, and the gardener put it from his mind.
The sound of singing birds made it impossible for Gino to even hear himself think, at times, but today it was exceptionally quiet because many of the birds had been kept only to be given away as gifts. There were still a few that trilled as he passed their cages, but for once he didn't stop to look at them and made his way around to a sitting area where a servant was diligently sweeping the floor. Gino regarded her as blankly as he did anything else for a long moment, but when he spoke it was surprisingly warm, sounding to him as not quite right: "Excuse me."
Turning, the maid looked surprised for a moment, but upon seeing who had called her, smiled and bowed at the waist, setting her broom aside. "Master Gino, hello."
Gino couldn't help himself, suddenly—he smiled a little bit, too, and extracted the hideous present from under his arm, holding it out to her. "Merry Christmas, Masuyo."
"Oh!" Masuyo recoiled from the offering a little, alarmed and, it seemed, embarrassed. Her gaze shifted from the box to Gino once or twice and finally she reached out to take it, however hesitantly, believing it better than refusing or making him insist. "What is it...?"
"For you."
The answer didn't do much to clear things up, but the maid smiled anyway, looking down at the poorly-wrapped gift in her hands and then back at Gino, bowing again. "Thank you, Master Gino." Gino nodded in response, still faintly smiling, but then the two of them simply stood there looking at each other in silence and the air became somewhat tense. Finally, Gino spoke, inclining his head with a frown. "Aren't you going to open it?"
"Oh, of course! I'm sorry." Startled, Masuyo began tentatively picking apart the wrapping, starting with the bow, which came undone almost a little too easily. The rest of the paper came off just as quickly, having not been taped down at all. Neither was the box, so that when the paper was removed, the lid nearly sprang open in her hands, startling her again. She glanced up in her embarrassment to find that the corners of Gino's lips had quirked just slightly and it seemed to hearten her enough to continue, reaching into the box and groping past the packing tissue to find what was inside.
Suddenly, her hand retracted from the box as if she'd been bitten with another soft cry of "oh!" Gino's eyes widened. "What's wrong? Did it pinch you?"
"No, I..." Unable to find words, Masuyo simply stared down at the box, then back at Gino, then down at the box again, becoming more and more distressed each time. At length she held the box out to its giver, trembling visibly and audibly as she did so. "I'm sorry, Master Gino. I couldn't possibly accept this, I..."
"I'm giving it to you. You won't take it?" Gino sounded confused rather than angry, but Masuyo gave him a tremulous, scolded look all the same, her mouth open but nothing coming out except empty stammers. Slowly, Gino's head inclined again, and his words came gradually, unsure. "You... don't like it?"
Masuyo quickly shook her head. "No, Master Gino! I like it very much! But it's... well, it's..."
"What?"
There was a lengthy pause before Masuyo was able to speak again. "I-I only think that it's far too valuable for someone like me to keep."
"It isn't valuable," said Gino plainly, "My sister didn't want it. She gave it to me." He waved his hand, indicating himself, and then indicating Masuyo. "It's not for boys to wear."
"Oh, no—" started Masuyo, but quickly silenced herself. Another long stretch of silence followed, with Gino seeming quite expectant and Masuyo seeming quite afraid to proceed. Finally, she retracted the box, since it was clear that Gino wasn't going to take it back, and slowly lowered her eyes to peer inside again. "I really couldn't..."
Gino folded his arms. "Please, do consider keeping it. I want you to have it." Then, deeming it important that he emphasize its significance, added, "It's a Christmas gift."
The maid seemed doubtful but flushed with what Gino took to be happiness, anyway, and carefully reached into the box again, lifting its contents out so that she could see them better. A delicate golden brooch glimmered in the light of the aviary, a single diamond in the center of the heart pattern creating a rainbow of light on her face. As Masuyo turned it over she seemed to quiver and flinch, afraid that she might drop it, or break it simply from having such a precious thing in her hand. Then, with a sigh, she pursed her lips into a thin smile and tucked the brooch into her apron, bowing much more deeply than before. "Thank you, Master Gino. I'll carry it with me always."
Relief wrote itself on Gino's face, and he inclined his head again in a bow of his own, smiling in earnest at her just before he turned to leave, as if this had been nothing more than a simple business meeting. It was very clear to him, and also to Masuyo, that this brief exchange was far more personal than something as innocuous as a business meeting, but the implications and feelings thereof would not be discussed for several more years.
—
December 25, 2018. Eighteen years old, and he had not received a single gift. This was, of course, because all of his gifts were waiting for him on the first floor of Ashford's student council building and not underneath the tiny potted fir tree he had placed on top of the piano in his apartment. A tiny lit-up star and one single miniature bulb dangled off the scraggly branches. Leaning over it as if trying to blow the star out like a candle, Gino leaned down and turned off the switch. He had planned an errand ahead of time that would push his Christmas celebration at school back for a little while, so he figured it best that he turn the tree off. "Fire hazard," as Anya had ever so astutely pointed out when she had come to see his new place.
Silently reminding himself that he would need to drop by and take gifts to her and the others out on the farm later, Gino picked up his keys and left the apartment. The distant trill of birds in the treetops and wireless towers seemed to herald his departure. He laughed to himself and turned the car radio up louder.
Arriving at the front gate of the estate, Gino pulled alongside the curb rather than parking it properly and hopped out. A servant came rushing down the path to open the gate for him and was quickly informed that it wasn't necessary. "I can let myself in," he said, patient and yet with a steely sort of look so that the servant recoiled a little, lowering his head. Gino quickly corrected himself and tacked on, "But thank you."
"Of course," murmured the servant.
"I just want to make this super quick, so would you mind not telling anyone I stopped by?"
"If that's what you'd prefer, sir," murmured the servant.
Gino smiled, patting the smaller boy on the shoulder. "Thanks. And just call me Gino." Before the servant could respond Gino was on his way up the path, walking with long, brisk strides. Even if it had been years since the last time he had strolled across the grounds this way, he still knew them by heart. As he approached the third building he caught one of the gardeners watching him from the corner of his eye and smiled at him, too. Imagine how unusual it must be, he thought, to see young Master Gino meandering about the grounds again.
With no one to hinder his progress upstairs, Gino reached his bedroom by taking the stairs three and four at a time. It had been left essentially untouched; they had obviously ransacked it at first, in search, perhaps, of a reason for his sudden and unexplained departure some three years previous. Surely it hadn't taken them long to figure out where he had gone and for what reason, which is why everything in the room was still intact, for the most part. It had been kept immaculately clean despite its vacancy and Gino was pleased to find that nothing had been stolen. At least, nothing he cared about. His hiding places had been clever, but the things he valued—that he really wanted to hide, were more so. Opening a drawer yielded several sketchbooks; searching the top shelf of his closet revealed a small compartment where a collection of his favorite sheet music, unceremoniously torn from their respective books, was folded several times over and bound together with a rubber band. Between his mattress he found a collection of ribbons in various colors and under the cabinet in his bathroom he located, with an unexpected swell in his heart, a battered, stuffed bear wearing a fine, silk lapel waistcoat emblazoned with the letter F in gold stitching. Holding this treasure to his chest, he proceeded to his desk where he lifted off the shade of the lamp there, unscrewed the light bulb, and turned the base upside down, emptying its contents into his hand: a golden, diamond-encrusted brooch in the shape of a heart.
These things as well as some others were placed in a bag he had brought along with him and Gino was as quick to leave the Weinberg estate as readily as he'd arrived, unperturbed by anyone except the servant boy at the gate who opened it for him again, despite its unnecessity, and smiled tremulously as Gino got into his car and drove away.
Gino returned to his apartment and placed each of the treasures rescued from his childhood home under the scraggly, dead bit of twig on top of his piano. A ribbon around the stuffed bear's wrist and the golden brooch in his paw, and before he left for the second time to attend the Ashford Christmas party he kissed the teddy's head and laid his handkerchief over his lap, shifted a potted chrysanthemum over to give him shade from the midday sun's window light, and tucked a yellowing, home-made card between him and the "tree" that read, "Merry Christmas, Gino, Love Masuyo."