Sweet Christmas

6

Win was running late. He knew he was running late because Gun had told him three times that they were running late. And Win knew Gun must be telling the truth because usually it's Gun who took too much time getting dressed.

Win cared about his appearance but he was someone who didn't like spending too much time mixing and matching clothes. He made whatever he pulled out of his closet work.

Except tonight he really could not decide on what to wear. His hair has been gelled back, his concealer in place, there is even a smudge of brown eyeshadow emphasizing his double lids. But one hour in and he was still in his boxers.

His bedroom door open and Gun barges in.

"Hey!"

"Let's not pretend that your chest is a shocking sight for me," Gun quips, hands on hips.

Win sighs but relents, ignoring Gun as he picks up two sweaters and tries to decide which one suits him better.

"You should just go to the bar wearing what you're wearing now. I'm sure Bright will like it."

Win throws Gun a withering glare. "I'm not dolling up for Bright."

"Sure. That's why half your cabinet is on the floor."

"I'm not dressing up for him!"

Gun puts up both hands in mock surrender.

Win lets out a breath and plops down on his bed. "It's just that I haven't gone out in so long."

Gun knew. It's been work-home-work-home for Win these past few years. Gun practically had to drag Win to dinner or a beer once in awhile. And even then the last time they hung out properly was months ago. His face softens and he approaches the disarray of clothes. He pulls out a baby blue button down. Then he rifles around longer and pulls out a designer leather jacket. He hands them to his friend.

"Aren't those a bit much?"

"It's winter."

"This jacket?," Win asks uncertain, fingering the subtle logo.

"Where else will you wear it?"

Win got the clothes and slipped them on. He rifled through the piles around him for black pants and once he finds a pair,  he pulls them on as well. As he turns to the mirror, Gun hands him a silver necklace with a daisy pendant.

"I haven't worn this in ages."

"Daisies symbolize new beginnings. Seemed fitting."

Win rolls his eyes. "It's just a couple of drinks at a bar, Gun."

Gun shrugs and hands the necklace again.

Win takes it and slips it on. He looks at himself in the mirror. He couldn't say why exactly.
But Gun was right. It did seem fitting.

- - -

The bar was dark and smelled of damp and whiskey. It was small too and one could politely call it rustic.
But thankfully despite its state, whoever owned it wasn't stingy with electricity. The heaters were obviously turned on high, giving the bar goers a chance to shrug off their jackets and remove their beanies.

Win and Gun were no different. They were in a small booth near the stage, jackets folded and placed in the small basket below their table. They were each nursing a cocktail and picking at  the appetizers Gun ordered. Win was a bit uncomfortable to be out so late at night but he was excited too, to finally be doing something new.