Writing in English because I can't for the love of God writing something about Christmas and mistletoe in Bahasa. My English is probably a bit rusty but enjoy!
For those who don't know, there's a tradition in western culture that you should kiss if you're standing under the mistletoe.
...
"How many times do I have to tell you, stop playing soccer in the snow!"
Daimond grunts, rolling his eyes at his ever-fussy brother. "You don't get to tell me what to do, I'm a big boy now."
Can guffaws, his loud voice annoyed Daimond. "You're six."
"Mom said I'm a big boy!" he protested.
"Yea yea, whatever." Can dismiss him with a wave of his hand. "Still, since Mom and Dad are away until midnight, you live under my watch! So you gotta do as I say."
Daimond just rolls his eyes again, choosing to walk pass Can so he can race him to the bakery they intended to visit.
Their favorite bakery is strangely vacant considering the busy Christmas Eve. There's only a boy probably around Can's age with what seems like his brother, a little older than Daimond.
"Can we choose something different tonight?" Daimond asks after a quick scanning. "I'm sick of chocolate cake."
Can nods. "Shoot."
Can steals a glance at the two boys who speak quietly to themselves. The older boy is tall and good looking, the type that Can would date, but he clears his thought right away. Like he stands a chance! Who is he kidding?
Daimond is back at his side and tugs on Can's sleeve, "Can we have a cinnamon roll?" he asks.
"I hate cinnamon," Can deadpan.
Daimond peeves, "You hate everything other than chocolate and cheesecake."
"There you go, buddy. You finally know the drill."
"I hate you."
"Feeling's mutual, don't worry."
"I'm gonna tell mom."
"Like I care," Can taunts as he makes faces at his brother.
Daimond wants to respond but seems to stop as he looks up at Can in hesitating. "Um, Can? There's a mistletoe above your head."
Can rolls his eyes. "So what? You want a kiss?"
"It's not above our head, silly. It's above your head... and that guy's."
Can whips his head as Daimond pointed somewhere behind his head. To his horror, the other guy, the tall, good looking boy is already looking at him with equal horror.
"Oi, Tin," the guy's brother calls. "Now you have to kiss a stranger. Nice."
Without looking at Daimond, Can knows for sure that his brother has the matching grin with the guy's brother. Can hates his brother sometimes-most of time- and other's brothers too. Because all little brothers in the world seem to descend from hell as a gift from Lucifer himself.
"Guys, quit staring at each other and kiss, please," Daimond pleads with a fake honey voice.
"I'm not kissing stranger," Can hisses, whacking his brother's head at once.
"Um, you're standing under the mistletoe, that's the universal rule. Don't you know that?" The other little brother sassily tells him.
Can wants to whack the little satan's head too, but that's probably illegal. Luckily, he doesn't have to, because the good looking guy (Can probably should stop calling him that in his head, because the guy has a name. It was Tin), Tin, huffs and stares down at his brother. "Him, enough. It's not funny."
