The streets are bustling with last-minute shoppers hurrying to find Christmas gifts. They rush by, single-mindedly determined towards their objective, but Ramen, having none, finds himself wandering aimlessly, lost in the tide.

The music faintly emanating through open shop doors is just as mocking as the jolly animatronics grinning at him through the windows. A seven-foot-tall Santa Claus turns, gears whirring softly, and offers him a hearty "ho ho ho!" to which Ramen barely lifts his eyes. Usually he's the one spreading superficial holiday spirit, but he doesn't feel like it this year.

A girl pokes him, offering a small candy cane from her collection, doubtlessly giving away treats to share the joy, and he accepts one with a small smile. The corners of his mouth drop again the moment he steps away from the square.

At least the wind blows cooler here, and while the lights around rooftops twinkle on, there's no cheery music to patronize his gloom. His fingers grow numb from the cold as he walks, and he briefly considers waiting for a bus, then remembers he doesn't have the money for that anymore.

Not when he lost his job on Christmas Eve.

Though, he reasons it could be worse, as he continues to walk. His body is well-functioning, better than many others he knows, and he hasn't had to go to the hospital in years. He has waterproof boots, which is an improvement from last year's perpetually wet socks. His jacket is nearly worn out but it keeps hypothermia at bay. He has a warm apartment to go back to...when he finally gets there.

Something about the distance from home to work feels exponentially longer this evening, compared to the ones he remembers. He isn't usually this tired, but he supposes that's a side-effect of the disappointment, and result of all the extra shifts he'd been putting in the past month.

He finally steps into the apartment, stamping his feet tiredly to shake the snow off of them, and following the stairs and hallway to his apartment door by muscle memory alone. His fingers close around the key and insert it to the lock out of habit, twisting it, then turning the doorknob.

It doesn't open.

Ramen tries again, and it's then that he finally snaps to attention and realizes the door is jammed. He yanks out his key, but it catches midway, and he finds himself tugging at it to try to get it loose.

He smacks his head once against the door, exhausted and exasperated, and paper rustles around the impact of his forehead. He pauses, leaning back, and discovers the piece of paper affixed to his apartment door.

The words "EVICTION NOTICE" stand out and catch his attention immediately, and he quickly scans the rest of the page, starting to panic. He's locked out of his own apartment - the landlord must have changed the locks while he was gone - and he's going to have to contact him directly if he wants his stuff back.

Ramen rips the paper off the door and crushes it in his hand, slamming his head against the door twice in frustration, then rests his pounding forehead against the wood, forcing himself to relax.

He tries to remember how many times he missed rent, and finds his mind drawing a blank. Between adding extra shifts to his schedule for Thanksgiving, Black Friday, last-minute slots he took up only for the extra pay, only to end up being laid off, he barely had time to think about anything else.

Ramen gathers his bearings and ditches the door, striding down the hallway and back outside.

The cold air hits his face and at once it's both relieving and infuriating. One bad thing after another, today is just a cursed, cursed day. He tries to figure where he went wrong but logic and rationale are drowned in a wave of anger and spite. Why did this have to happen to him, and now, of all times?

With a start, he realizes the landlord would be starting his vacation this evening, so the earliest chance Ramen has of catching him to collect his things from his apartment is after New Year's.

Great, just great.

He doesn't even have the energy to calculate all the things in his fridge that would be spoilt by then, leave alone if the electricity was turned off too. His head hurts and the cold air only goes to intensify the painful throbbing.

Rundown of all the terrible things that happened today:

He slipped on a patch of ice on his way to work.

He arrived 5 minutes late because his legs were sore from the fall and made it harder to walk.

He was forced to explain several times that, no, he could not take merchandise returns; the customer would simply have to go to the back of the rather long queue to the customer service desk- was this a new concept?

He had cold leftovers for lunch. Which wasn't new but he didn't really feel like leftovers for lunch, especially not cold.

He lost his job.

On Christmas Eve.

He also got evicted from his apartment.

On Christmas Eve.

He has nowhere to sleep and no source of income for the next indefinite future.

Merry Christmas, Ramen.

He finds himself standing on a bridge, the sidewalk salted so the snow is more or less cleared away. The sun would be setting ahead of him, but the sky is overcast so it only gets darker. He stares down at the dark water of the river, spreading out like a black ribbon underneath him. It's partly covered in ice, white streaks bordering the frozen parts, but it's impossible to tell how much, or how deep, the ice or river go, in this light.

He rests his head on the railing, though, and the frosted metal clings gently to his cold forehead. It doesn't get terribly cold here, not at this time of year, anyway, but he does remember a year when one of his friends accidentally stuck his lip to a frozen pole on a frigid day in February. Detaching it was a gory scene and even the memory of it makes Ramen wince painfully.

Almost reactively, he lifts his head from the railing, though he knows it isn't cold enough to glue his skin to metal, he still rests his jacket-sleeved arms on it before dropping his chin down to stare ahead at the row of trees in the distance.

Another breeze of cold air blows by, and he feels a small pang of nausea and vertigo. It's not the bridge - he's never been scared of heights. It's the loneliness.

He's out in the cold, on Christmas Eve, without a job or a roof over his head, and no one even knows he's here. He could jump, right here, right now, and no one would even know, or find out, for who knows how long.

The thought alone makes him recoil in shock, and he jerks back from the railing, thankful for the salt melting away the ice on the sidewalks so he doesn't slip when he steps back. He catches his balance, only there's someone else there, standing a little ways away from him, looking hesitant to approach.

"Are you okay?" the stranger asks softly.

Ramen pauses. "Yeah, I've got myself," he dismisses, straightening as if to prove his point.

"No..." the other says slowly, narrowing their eyes. "Are you okay?"

Ramen freezes, rather literally as a cold draft sweeps by and chills his insides while he stands still in shock. "Uh..."

The other watches on expectantly and Ramen hesitantly shakes his head. "No, not really," he admits.

The stranger quirks an eyebrow, stuffing their hands deeper into their own pockets, prompting him to elaborate, and he sighs.

"I just lost my job and then got evicted from my apartment," he mumbles. "It's been kind of a shitty day."

"I saw the notice on your door..." and Ramen looks up in surprise. "I, uh, live a couple doors down, above you," the stranger - his neighbor - explains.

"You followed me out here?" Ramen asks.

The other shrugs sheepishly. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

Ramen doesn't cry, he hasn't cried in years, out of nature, not emotional suppression, but he feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"You, really?" he asks, dumbfounded.

The other nods. "Uh, I'm sorry about your job. And your apartment..."

Ramen swipes at his eyes, a strange feeling in his throat making it hard to get words out.

The other steps back in alarm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"No, no," Ramen manages, shaking his head. "It's not you, I just, I guess I'm a little overwhelmed..."

He laughs ruefully, just once, then swallows, turning to look at the other.

"Thank you."

"Uhh?" His neighbor raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"Thank you for caring," Ramen says, pausing only afterwards to reconsider his assumption.

The other gives an awkward shrug.

"Uh, I wanted to make sure you were okay," he says again. "Do you have a place for the night?"

Ramen pauses, dread washing over him again. He doesn't say anything, but it must show on his face, because the other's mouth drops open slightly in concern.

"I guess I could..." Ramen trails off, thinking, acutely aware of the darkening sky around him.

The other watches him struggle to come up with a solution, then quietly interjects,

"If you need a place for the night..."

Ramen stops, and his neighbor ducks his head.

"You could stay over at my apartment..."

Ramen's eyes widen. "I couldn't-"

"It's no problem," the other shakes his head quickly. "Really," when Ramen doesn't look convinced. "If it's just for the night...it'd be better than you freezing to death out here."

"You sure?" Ramen asks doubtfully, and the other hesitates only a split second before nodding definitively. Ramen gapes.

"Just follow me," the other finally says awkwardly after a few moments, and Ramen gladly accepts the initiative, heading back to the building he lived in up until a few hours ago.

-

The layout of the inside of his neighbor's apartment is strikingly familiar - after all, it is the same building - and yet has the distinctly different vibe that makes Ramen feel out of place. For one, it's clean, very clean. Much cleaner than Ramen's apartment was when he left it. And yet, it doesn't feel like it was prepared specially for a visitor.

"Is this...how you live?" Ramen asks before he can stop himself.

His neighbor turns to him sharply. "Yes?"

"It's just...very...neat," Ramen says slowly, hesitantly, wary of stepping past the front door lest he spoil the meticulous order of the room. "I don't wanna mess anything up."

The other rolls his eyes, beckoning him forward. "My mom was a neat freak, I guess we got used to keeping everything decluttered," he explains.

"Is she here?"

"She died when I was twelve," the other says simply, and Ramen curses himself for asking.

"Oh, sorry..."

"It's whatever," the other shrugs, looking away.

"Uhh...what do I call you," Ramen asks, hesitantly, because the author can't keep using epithets at this point.

"Kaizo," Kaizo says simply, and Ramen nods. "Do you need anything? I know the landlord just went on vacation so you won't be able to get into your apartment for a while..."

Ramen did not need that reminder - it only makes him feel more out-of-place where he is, but he supposes it's also not his place to complain in spite of his neighbor's generosity. Instead, he looks around, trying to recall the answer to Kaizo's question, though it is hard to think.

He ends up shaking his head, eyelids starting to droop. It's been a long month...

Someone else pokes their head into the living room, then stops when they notice Ramen there.

"You," he gapes, turning to Kaizo and raising an eyebrow. "Woah, I didn't expect you to be this forward!"

Kaizo's eyes widen in alarm and Ramen pauses, confused, as Kaizo hurries to explain.

"He got kicked out of his apartment," he says, giving the other a look that Ramen can't decipher. "So he's staying here for the night. This is my brother, by the way," he tells Ramen, "Pang."

"Fang," Pang - Fang? - corrects, glaring. "And who's idea was this?"

Ramen gestures to Kaizo. "Your brother is really nice..."

Fang gapes at him, expression shocked to the point of exaggeration.

"Kaizo and nice?!" He turns to give his brother a once-over. "Did you go outside and come back a different person?"

Kaizo narrows his eyes. "I can be nice-"

But Fang has already dialled a number and the outgoing call sounds on speakerphone.

Ramen glances around, confused. "What's going on?" but a voice answers on the other end before he can get a response.

"Hey, Fang, what's up," says a voice Ramen obviously does not recognize.

"Kaizo invited our neighbor to stay over the night," Fang announces loudly, and Kaizo rushes over to silence him. "You know, that hot one-"

"That's enough," Kaizo says testily, snatching the phone and shoving his brother into a bedroom, presumably Fang's.

He slams the door shut, and the sounds of conversation are muted somewhat. Kaizo brushes off his hands and leans against the wall casually.

"Please ignore my brother," he flashes a tight smile.

Ramen blinks. "Uh, sure," he assures him. "Er, do you mind me sleeping on the couch, or?"

"You could have my bed," Kaizo says quickly, then backtracks, eyes widening in horror. "I mean, I could sleep on the couch, and you in the bedroom." He tosses his hands up. "I really don't mind either way..."

"Whichever is more convenient for you," Ramen nods.

"Great, you can have the bed, then," Kaizo decides.

"You really don't have to..."

"You're our guest," Kaizo frowns.

"You've already done enough," Ramen says faintly, not wanting to indebt himself to his neighbor after less than an hour of acquaintance.

Kaizo rolls his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, it's Christmas Eve."

He turns and opens the fridge door, kneeling to rifle through its contents.

"Still, though, it's really nice of you," Ramen goes on from the sofa, and Kaizo pauses.

"Nice, eh?" and Ramen can hear a smirk in his tone, which only furthers his confusion.

"What?"

"Nothing," Kaizo shakes his head. "It is Christmas, though, where are you going to find a place to stay for the holidays?"

Ramen pauses, remembering his complete lack of reliable income since today. He offers a shrug, and Kaizo frowns, thinking.

"Yeah, I guess I'll clear out my room," he decides, and Ramen gapes.

"You don't have to!" he says quickly. "It's not fair for me to be hoarding your resources, not to mention the inconvenient timing..."

"We don't really do Christmas, anyway," Kaizo stops him. "And anyway, you can pay us back."

Ramen swallows and tries not to bring up the fact that he is very much jobless at the moment, but Kaizo isn't paying attention.

"Pang!" he yells, and a door clicks open.

"What?" Fang yells back.

"What happened to the leftovers Boboiboy left in the fridge?"

Ramen wonders who Boboiboy is. Rather his curiosity is piqued by where such a ridiculous nickname would arise from, then realizes his own friends nicknamed him after noodles, and supposes nothing is off the table as far as hypocorisms go.

"They're gone," Fang informs him, and Ramen wonders how many of their conversations consist of yelling at each other through doors. Also how the neighbors haven't complained of the noise yet.

Kaizo huffs quietly, shaking his head, then yells again, "What are we supposed to eat?"

"I don't know, prick, go find something in the cupboard!"

Kaizo seethes. "When he gets hungry..." he mutters, shaking his head.

Ramen hesitates a moment. "I can cook," he tells him.

Kaizo pauses, then turns to him, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"Pasta, soup, roast, pie, cake," Ramen ticks off, "anything, really."

Kaizo's eyes widen, and Fang pokes his head in the living room, equally surprised. The brothers share a look and Fang breaks into a grin.

"You mean we won't starve this month?"

Kaizo rolls his eyes. "You've got some manners to learn, by the way," he informs the younger.

"Ok, old man," Fang replies equally sarcastically, then turns to beam at Ramen while Kaizo looks on, offended. "Usually Boboiboy would do the cooking, but he went back home for the winter cause he's a weakling who can't take the cold, so we were just gonna make do with the microwave till he comes back."

Ramen gapes and turns to Kaizo, who sheepishly nods in confirmation.

"Oh, no," he shakes his head, walking over to the kitchen and having a good look at the pantry, "Not on my watch you're not."

Fang grins wider and Kaizo gives in and offers a small smile of relief - gratefulness?

"It's settled then, you'll pay your rent in meals," Fang decides.

"Pang, manners," Kaizo snaps.

Ramen raises his hands. "I don't mind at all!"

Admittedly, he hasn't had the time to cook meals since work took so much of his time and energy. He supposes his situation has benefits too, though the upside was heavily dependent on the unexpected benevolence of his neighbor. Who is presently watching him go through the ingredient supply in search of meal ideas.

He straightens from kneeling in front of the fridge, a bag of moldy carrots in his hand. "Is this all you have?"

Kaizo has the decency to look embarrassed. "Ah..."

"No worries," Ramen assures him, and Kaizo pauses, raising an eyebrow. The blond reaches around in the cabinets and pulls out a box of uncooked noodles - the Swiss Army knife of the kitchen. "You'd be surprised at what you can make do with vegetables and pasta."

"Really?" Kaizo looks doubtful.

Ramen nods. "Just watch me."

And Kaizo does.

Though perhaps not the cooking so much as the chef.