Welcome to the 1984 Christmas special of 2019!! Would you believe this time last year I had just introduced Osamu? Time really flies, doesn't it? If you follow me, you'll know that a few days ago, I announced that 1984 reached 10k reads! This is so amazing, I can hardly believe it. I still remember when I hit 100 reads, and then about this time last year I hit 1k. I honestly didn't even think it would come so far. I was afraid I would just lose interest in this book and move on to something else without ending this thrilling story. However, I am so glad I stuck around and saw it through thus far.

The very least I could do for all of my wonderful and kind readers is sketch something and give them a chilling Christmas special. Since this season mainly focuses on Lance and Osamu and their dynamic (and because I was short on time), I only sketched the two of them. Even so, I decided to do something very special (to me at least). Some of you know that I've recently read through the webcomic Starfighter (which I highly recommend if you like yaoi and/or 1984), so I decided to make an alternate universe based off of that comic! I know how outlandish the idea is and how it hardly relates to anything at all, but the inspiration is what moved me to give you guys something a little extra besides just a written chapter, so please enjoy!!

Please forgive me if my handwriting is illegible. >_

Thank you for reading this far and taking the time to look at my drawings! It means the world to me that you all enjoy my horrific book so much and gives me the strength to wake up everyday and describe experiences true and fictional.

Thank you, and I love you all. Enjoy the Christmas special 2019!

Everyone celebrates Christmas a bit differently. One can't help but feel sorry for those who won't or can't spend the holiday with their families. Even though it isn't everyone's happiest time of year, it is one of the sacred holidays that should be spent in the company of family.

However, our lovely Lance and Osamu do not have such a luxury, as you know. Lance's father had recently passed away and the two boys were still staying in Seattle. They weren't very close with their distant family either, so they had to celebrate alone in the apartment they were staying at.

Pans and dishes were left astray on the counter and in the sink in the kitchen. The boys had been cooking their Christmas dinner from about mid afternoon until the evening, and they had no intentions of letting the food get cold while they cleaned the kitchen, so they would just clean it all the next day.

The dining room where the men sat was much less chaotic. Everything they had artistically crafted that day was laid neatly across the table. It was only a small table for four, but they weren't crowded in the least. There was only three of them, afterall, and one of them wasn't even alive, so it wasn't like they had to cook very much food.

While Osamu and Lance were seated across from each other, their third guest rested most vivaciously in his urn in the seat to the side. Though he was just ash, he sat there with the same demeaning aura he had in his lifetime. Even in death, nothing had changed about him except for the fact that he couldn't say or do anything anymore.

Lance didn't even notice the old man in the seat adjacent to him. He was too lost in the view of Seattle in the large bay windows behind Osamu. The way the lights flickered on and off and how there was barely a soul about the usually busy city settled on his heart in the most uneasy, yet familiar way.

He had never spent a holiday in Seattle city before because when he lived there, his house was a large one in the county just outside of it. He had never even spent Christmas Day in Tokyo because he always traveled back home for the holidays.

He was used to seeing the city so bustling and lively, it was strange to see it so desolate. In a way, though, he expected it. Everyone was with their families or friends, or.. By themselves, drinking discounted beer and eating Chinese takeout while they watch Christmas movies on the TV just like Lance would be doing if Osamu and his father wasn't with him.

Lance's fadedly chaffed eyes shifted a hair to focus on Osamu. Not his eyes, though. He focused on Osamu's mouth. He focused on those cheeks oscillating disgustingly as he gorged bite after bite of his food, all of it going straight to his fat gut.

Osamu noticed that absent stare about Lance's precious face as he watched him eat. "Yes, love?" he uttered softly to Lance.

The blond boy blinked a few times as he seemed to be shaken out of a far, far away dimension or pulled out cold from a trance. "What? I don't recall saying anything."

Osamu gently smiled at Lance, tilting his head to the side as he calmly locked eyes with the frigid creature before him. "Your eyes say it all. You were traveling again, but your eyes were focused on me. Have you something to say, love?"

The other shook his head shallowly and his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. "No, I guess not. I can't even remember what I was thinking about now."

"Mm. I see." Osamu replied with a small nod. "..Are you going to eat the rest of your bao? Because if you won't, I will."

To that, Lance nodded and handed Osamu the rest of the taco-like food over the table.

"Thanks."

Naturally, there was a silence that befell the room as the two boys resumed eating their food, one chewing much louder than the other. While Lance was a naturally neat person, it was obvious that Osamu.. was really not.

The puffy cheeked man swallowed his mouthful of food, his gently shapen eyes focused on the urn beside him in the chair fit for a living person. "So, what do you plan on doing with him?" he finally asked, "You're really not gonna eat dinner with him every night like this, right? If you did, I think I'd have to get you counselling, haha!"

"Oh god, no." Lance hastily replied, "I'm getting rid of him tonight."

The other's brows furrowed in confusion and worry. "'Getting rid of..?'"

"Yes. Tonight. After dinner." Lance answered flatly before taking a bite of the spaghetti he skillfully crafted.

"How..?"

Lance closed his eyes and quickly chewed and swallowed his food to give another reply to daft Osamu. "By spreading his ashes across the toilet water, of course." the blond answered as if it wasn't disrespectful to his late father in the slightest.

Astonished, Osamu's brows lifted high and his eyelids fluttered as he processed the information. "Lance.. Don't you think that's a bit.. Insulting? I mean, I know he wasn't the best father- mine wasn't either- but i wouldn't hold onto it when he's gone... Don't you want to just.. Release him..?"

Lance's eyes stayed steady on Osamu like a hawk as he feebly tried to argue against what Lance has already made up his mind about. "You did not live with the tyrant." he simply said, but his voice was a sort of deep growl which made the hairs on the back of Osamu's neck stand on end.

"I.. suppose not." he said and then resumed stuffing his face. He came to the conclusion that he should let Lance handle his own family affairs. Lance didn't have as good of a childhood as Osamu, afterall.

Even though he wasn't by far the greatest parent, Mr. Tanaka would always make time for his family on the holidays. Osamu would always get showered with gifts from all over the provinces and some from America, too. His parents never bickered on holidays, even if they had a fight the day before, because they never wanted to ruin happy days for their beloved son. Even family get-togethers were always pleasant and fun. Osamu's parents had many suppressed issues with one another, but they were respectful and considerate enough to never drag Osamu into it. In that moment where Osamu ate at the lonely table in front of Lance, he was grateful for his mother and father. He might have even wished he could thank them.

Some day, Osamu. Some day.

Lance suddenly sat his silverware down with a clack, already rising up from his seat and successfully startling unsuspecting Osamu. "I am full now." the blond said calmly as he picked up the container of his late father. "You can finish up the rest if you wish."

Osamu was a bit flustered seeing Lance begin to take off so suddenly. "Wh-- Well was the food okay??"

"Yes, the food was exquisite. Please excuse me." and with that, Lance was off.

He scurried away from Osamu to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He wanted privacy while he disposed of his father this way. Was it sentiment? Was it guilt? Did he view himself as a coward? Did he hate every being of himself that he projected that hate onto others? Would he feel relief after he did this?

For many a minute, the blond haired, blue eyed boy stared at the toilet from the entrance of the room, stark still. His chilly hands gripped the metal of his father's capsule so tightly his fingernails were flushed white. Eventually his mind went to comatose and after he shook himself out of his state, he couldn't even recall what he was thinking about.

With lips pursed and head held steady, Lance inched up to the loo, father in hand and ready to be disposed of. He set the heavy pot down onto the floor to lift the lid of the porcelain waste remover. Afterwards, he picked up his father again, holding him close to his body with an arm so that he could open the lid and set it on the sink beside him.

The boy's eyes sank down into the sacred capsule that contained the wretch of a man that used to be his father. A familiar feeling struck him when he realized that even those who do the most and make the most impressions are all made into ash or decompose in the end. Even the pretty boy with the name of Lance O'Brien would eventually leave this form and be forgotten by all who exist on his dimensional plane. After he did this, would he forget him? Could he at last be laid to rest in Lance's mind?

With a gulp, Lance reached his right hand into the urn, plucking up some of the contents with his middle and index fingers and his thumb. His hand recoiled so that Lance could see his father draped across his fingers like paint on a canvas.

He didn't care to look at it long before he slowly reached his arm out over the bowl, some specs of ash already strayly falling down. Was it wrong? Was it really so dispicable? Was is cowardly? The man had caused so much grief to the ones closest to him in his life and went out so easily that something had to happen to him at some point, but did it make Lance a coward not to stand up to him when he was alive and instead to the most vulgar thing to his dead body behind his back?

It only mattered in that split second before the stone faced boy rubbed his three primary fingers together, squeezing the ashes down into the water. He had no pride in him and no feeling left in his body but hate. He was a little boy who had all the compassion beaten out of him.

He took a handful of ashes out of the pot and held his hand over the bowl, watching it wisk away before he tilted his hand to let the rest sink into the tainted water. He grew a distaste to the slow process and gripped the metal, hovering it over the bowl and pouring the rest of the nameless ashes into the water as well.

When it was done and the metal pot wasn't heavy anymore, Lance set it down on the sink next to the lid. He never peeled his eyes away from the water. He watched the ashes dance and twirl in the water until they all settled to the bottom to rest.

In a soft motion, the toilet handle was pushed and the mechanism began its draining process, stirring up the sediment of ashes again for the next part of their journey. Lance didn't even utter a word as he watched the particles swirl down the drain and out of his life. He had no words in his head. He felt nothing. He felt not pain, guilt, sorrow, joy, nor anger. He was truly as empty in his soul as he appeared outside.