Chapter Text
Unexpectedly, Boxing day arrives with a heavy shower of snow. Seungkwan is woken up by the sound of Junhui running down the corridor, shouting about snow, it’s snowing, wake up everyone, it’s snowing! and he cracks an eye open to see the thin frost webbing across their windows. When he gets out of bed to properly pull the curtains back, he can see the snow falling down thick and fast outside, covering the grounds in a perfect blanket of white.
Jihoon finds him a spare pair of wellies from somewhere and they bundle up together to follow Junhui outside. Cheol, Chan, Hansol and Soonyoung join them, trudging through the deep snow after the enthusiastic five-year-old before they’ve even had breakfast, like they’re kids themselves. Seungkwan loves it, loves the feeling of snowflakes of his tongue, loves the quiet beauty of the sea of snow around them, perched on shivering trees and piled along the castle walls. His breath blows out white when he speaks, when he laughs, when he deliberately falls back into the snow to look up at the vast ivory sky overhead, so quiet, so bright.
“We should build a snowman!” Junhui is saying. “We could build loads of snowmen!”
“Alright,” Cheol says from somewhere behind him, feet crunching in the snow. “Shall we do one by the entrance? That way all of Great-Granddad’s friends will be able to see it when they arrive for the party on Saturday!”
Someone collapses into the snow beside Seungkwan, and he raises his head slightly to see Hansol lying there, solemnly making a snow angel. After a half a minute of purposeful swiping, he sits up to survey his creation for several seconds more, before giving it a satisfied nod.
Then he looks over at Seungkwan intently. “You a big fan of the snow?”
“I absolutely love it,” he says, wiping his arms and legs from side-to-side to create his own angel. “You?”
“I didn’t think snow could be this exciting again after living in a campervan in the highlands for six months,” Hansol says, pushing himself to his feet. “But somehow it feels special here.”
“Everything is more special at Christmas, when you’re with everyone you love the most,” he says, standing to inspect his own handiwork. His angel is a vaguer shape than Hansol’s, but it’s not like it will last long anyway. Fresh snow is already falling into their indentations, blurring the edges of the angel wings.
“Aww, thanks man,” Hansol says, giving him a wide smile before trudging over to where the snowman is beginning to be built.
“I mean…” he trails off, glancing at Jihoon, who seems to be barely containing his laughter. “You’re welcome, Hansol!”
They pile their efforts (and snow) together to make one big snowman by the castle gateway, almost standing taller than Jihoon by the time it’s finished. Soonyoung runs back inside to grab some buttons and a carrot nose to finish him off with, and Junhui inventively names him Snowfall, which Cheol tells him is a lovely name. They get a few selfies together with Snowfall, and another one with Chan when he’s face-first in the snow after Jihoon pushes him over for no reason at all. Jihoon is very quickly dragged down after him, and shortly after Cheol is hit in the face with a snowball from Hansol. Junhui squeals in high delight at the game that’s begun as the full-blown snowball fight commences, revenge from all sides, teams undefined. Seungkwan doesn’t really know who’s side he’s on, because Soonyoung is enjoying lobbing snow at anyone he can—heaps of snow, that is, not just normal snowballs—and Seungkwan stumbles down onto his hands and knees when he’s hit with a pile of it, the snow breaking soft and fine over his head, raining down around him and sliding down the back of his coat. Jihoon, ever the gentleman, shoves snow down the back of Soonyoung’s neck in revenge, and Soonyoung laughs like a crazy person about it, doing a mad dance as he wriggles the clumps of snow out of his hoodie.
Seokmin comes to call them all in for breakfast right as Junhui leaps to smash a handful of snow into Hansol’s face. Seungkwan is grateful for it, honestly, because as much as he loves the snow his jeans are soaked from too many falls into it, and he’s not sure he can feel his feet anymore. Jihoon pulls him up from his fall with a gloved hand, cheeks apple red, snowflakes caught in his fringe and eyelashes, and Seungkwan is so, so in love with him. He holds onto the moment, treasuring it before it can slip through his hands like the fine, powdery snow.
-
Seungkwan is the only one still shivering after breakfast, so he and Jihoon decide not to go out again to continue helping make the family of snowmen. They run a hot bath instead, because the cold has started to make his dodgy ankle ache, and Jihoon keeps telling him to use one of the fancy baths at least once while you’re here, Kwan. Sure enough, the bathroom Jihoon leads him to has an impressive bathtub inside, deep enough for him to sit up to his neck in water, wide enough to easily fit both of them. Seungkwan pulls off his woolly jumper and trousers as Jihoon sits by the tap, leaning over to test the water temperature every few minutes.
“My hands are still cold from earlier, look,” he says, holding his red fingers out to Jihoon as he sits on the edge of the tub in his boxers and a t-shirt. “I don’t know why I get so cold so easily.”
“I would say that you should eat more, but I just watched you eat a very hearty bowl of porridge,” Jihoon says, taking Seungkwan’s hands between his own and rubbing them for warmth. “All I can say is that it’s probably because you grew up in the south.”
“I would usually fight you on that, but I don’t think I’ve seen Soonyoung wearing a coat at all this holiday, so perhaps there is some truth in the north/south divide after all.”
“I almost want to say that Soonyoung doesn’t count even though that goes against my argument. I think he might be a species of his own.”
“What, Scottish?”
“No, just Soonyoung.”
“If he is, then Hansol is the same species. Do you think marriage is a heteronormative fallacy, too?”
Jihoon laughs. “No, I like marriage perfectly fine. Hansol has a Bachelors in Sociology, so don’t get him started on the benefits of Marxism.”
“I’ll make sure not to mention it,” he says, pulling his hands away from Jihoon to dip his fingers into the water. “I think it’s okay now. Did you get the bath bombs?”
Jihoon waves the packet at him, picking out one shaped like a star, glittery all over. “Shall we use this one? It’s kind of festive.”
“Sure.”
He plops it in, and they watch it dissolve into the water, bubbling up golden and gloopy. Seungkwan sheds the last of his clothes and steps into the bath, which seems to be only a few degrees below scalding hot, gasping as he lays his head back against the cool porcelain of the tub. “Wow. You’re right, you really should’ve shown me this tub earlier.”
“I would’ve, but it’s not like we’ve had time for more than a quick shower this whole week. I’m so tired, from all the—” he waves one hand in the air, the other struggling to pull his trousers and boxers down in one go. “Being here. Speaking to people.”
“Socialising?”
“Yeah. Do you think anyone would mind if we just stayed in bed for the rest of today?”
“If you can get the fire in our bedroom going, I’m not against it. Boxing day is meant for being lazy anyway, and the others will probably be busy in the snow for the rest of the day.”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Jihoon says, wrangling his shirt over his head and climbing into the bath after Seungkwan, causing small waves to lap against the side of the tub. None of it goes over the side, and Seungkwan raises one of his hands out of the water, watching the gold drip through his fingers.
“Let’s do that, then. I said I’d call my family today, and I’ll be able to catch them before it’s too late if I do it after this.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jihoon takes the bar of soap from the little shelf beside them and starts running it over his arms. “Are they doing anything for Christmas this year?”
“Not much, as usual. Sojeong has that boyfriend now, so she’ll have spent Christmas with him, I expect. Are you still up for seeing them on the Lunar New Year?”
“Of course,” Jihoon says, now working the soap over his shoulders and chest. “I love the New Year with your family. We always used to celebrate with Halmoni as kids, because it’s important to her. But it was never quite the same as how your family do it.”
“The madhouse that is my whole family gathering under one roof, you mean?”
“Your extended family are a lot, but I can handle it for one day,” he grins. “They’re so much fun. I wish Halmoni could experience that sort of Lunar New Year again.”
“Has she been back to Korea since she married your grandfather?”
“They used to go quite a lot, before Granddad’s mobility slowed down. But her parents died years ago, and she never had any siblings. All her family is here now, and we’ve never been as connected to the Lunar New Year as she is. For me and my brothers and cousins it feels like that, at least. Our parents get it a bit more.”
Seungkwan takes the bar of soap out of Jihoon’s hands. “Turn around, I’ll do your back.”
Jihoon obediently twizzles around in the bath, causing the water to slop against the sides, and he wiggles again, amused by the sound. Seungkwan puts a hand on his shoulder to still him and rub the soap over the slope of his back, the smooth expanse of pale skin dripping in gold.
“Maybe we could invite her back to Korea for the New Year. We’re not leaving until the ninth, so she could even fly back with us and stay for a while. Mum would love to meet her, I’m sure.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Of course. There’s no harm in asking, at least. It might be nice for her to see the homeland again.”
Jihoon hums. “I think she would like that. That’s a really good idea.”
He smiles at Jihoon’s back, pleased. “I’ve been known to have them.”
After Jihoon shampoos his hair for him, they sit in the bath together until it goes lukewarm, then wrap up in some thick, fluffy bath towels. Seungkwan changes into a fresh pair of pyjamas as Jihoon gets their fire roaring, and they sit by it for the rest of the day, drinking hot chocolate and nibbling on the leftovers from yesterday. Through their huge windows, he can see most of the cousins moving over to the sloped edges of the grounds to try tobogganing, Junhui never seeming to tire of dragging the sled up the hill again and again.
In the evening, they move to sit by the crackling fire downstairs, and Seungkwan, encumbered by a huge blanket and hot water bottle, asks Halmoni to come back to Korea with them. She cries, then gives Seungkwan the warmest hug he’s received this winter. They talk about arrangements together until the fire has burned down to embers, and his body is heavy with sleep.
-
The snow doesn’t stop falling until the next day, leaving everything buried under several inches of glittering white snow, pristine under the small sun. Junhui and his band of merry helpers had managed to give Snowfall a wife, child, and dog the day previously, and the snow family stand proudly by the entrance gate as cars and vans start to trundle up the driveway, the small army of events organisers arriving to help set up the ballroom for tomorrow. Seungkwan watches for a little while, then decides staying out of their way is significantly more useful when he nearly gets run over by the fake fountain being carried in by two large men.
The holidays are starting to catch up on him now, and he understands what Jihoon was saying yesterday about feeling ambiguously tired. Everyone else seems to be feeling the same, too, if Jinae napping on the couch and Junhui throwing a temper tantrum before lunch is anything to go by. Seungkwan thus chooses to spend much of the afternoon in the kitchen, helping the usual crowd in there make Chelsea buns and Eccles cakes and fruit jams for the party tomorrow. They’re still not through the Christmas Day leftovers, despite all twenty-one of them having platefuls for their meals yesterday. Jihoon keeps feeding him bites of it in between his jobs of mixing batter or icing cakes, despite Seokmin’s admonishments of that’s not very hygienic, Jihoon! Jihoon just raises his eyebrows at him in response, and makes less-than-subtle comments when Seokmin starts doing the exact same thing the minute Mingyu remarks that he’s peckish.
Ever the headquarters for the castle residents, he ends up in the sitting room again that evening, lying on the floor and helping Minghao colour in his Lake District colouring book. He’s surprisingly good at colouring inside the lines for a two-year-old, but doesn’t seem interested in making anything its natural colour. The flowers look pretty cool in all neon green, anyway.
“ITV2 is showing Harry Potter,” Wonwoo is saying from the settee, nose in the T.V. guide, the cartoon Santa on the cover beaming down at Seungkwan.
“Ooh, which one?” Seokmin asks. Junhui already has the remote in hand, changing the channel.
“Prisoner of Azkaban,” Wonwoo answers anyway.
“Ah, so not one of ours then,” Jinae says, rubbing slow circles over her belly, feet propped up on a footstool. “Has anyone told you that Harry Potter was filmed here yet, Seungkwan?”
Seungkwan stops colouring, rolling over to face Jinae. “Seriously?”
“Just the first two movies,” Jeonghan interjects, not looking up from her phone.
“Next time you go through the courtyard, try to imagine a tiny Daniel Radcliffe out there,” Jinae says. “I remember being here on one of the days they were filming, you know. We had no idea those movies were going to be so big then, of course, or I would’ve taken pictures.”
“Downton Abbey gets filmed here sometimes, too,” Jeonghan says, monotone, like she’s bored of reeling it off. “Aunt Bitna loves to tell people about that one.”
Seungkwan stands up, abandoning their colouring of Lake Windermere to jog over to the entrance doors. He pulls them open and steps outside, looking around the snowy courtyard with fresh eyes. It’s clearer now he looks at it again—can practically hear she’s a nightmare, honestly, it’s no wonder she hasn’t got any friends—but he would never have guessed it otherwise. Holy shit. He’s been staying at Hogwarts this whole time.
“Are you looking for something?” says a voice to his right, and he makes an embarrassing little yelp as he whips around, hand over his heart. Jisoo is stood by the doors, wearing her Iron Maiden tee with jeans out here in below zero temperatures, a cigarette idle in one hand.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were out here,” he says, mindful to pull the door closed behind them. “Jinae just told me they filmed Harry Potter out here. That’s so cool!”
Jisoo smiles in that knowing way, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth. “Oh, yeah. If I remember right, one of the only proper conversations I had with Jihoon while we were dating was about that.”
Seungkwan laughs, surprised. “You didn’t speak much, then?”
Jisoo shakes her head, eyes glittering. “We were both very different people, obviously. But we didn’t have that figured out then. Or I didn’t, I guess.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you ask him out?” he says, crossing his arms against the cold air. He’s been wondering about this since Jisoo had arrived with Jeonghan. “Jihoon told me he only agreed because he was intimidated by you.”
That makes her laugh. “Cute. I just thought he was interesting, and so quiet. People talked about us for our reputation, you know? Things we couldn’t control. I thought I would try and get to know him for real, see if we could relate over that, or something. I learned pretty quickly that you need more than being gossiped about to get on with each other. Most of our dates were walks into town, a Greggs for lunch, and sitting on the church steps to eat Cornish pasties in silence. God, we were awkward teenagers.”
Seungkwan can’t help but laugh at the image. “Why did you let it go on for so long?”
She shrugs, blowing out smoke. “No reason not to, I guess. I was bored. At least it helped me realise how gay I really am, and it seems to have done something similar for him, so I suppose it wasn’t a complete waste of time.”
“It’s nice that you found your way back to this family anyway. You and Jeonghan are very sweet.”
“Thanks,” she says, voice low and smooth, averting Seungkwan’s eyes for the first time. “We’ve only been together for about six months now, but it’s my longest relationship ever, and I want things to work out with her. We’re happy for you too, you know, even if it seems like we tease a lot. Jeonghan finds it funny, but I know she’s super happy for Jihoon, and I think you really suit him. I can tell you two are going to last.”
“Thank you,” he says, rubbing his arms. “I love him very much. I hope we can be together for a long time. It’s a good sign that they brought us back to meet the family, right?”
“Definitely. I like it when you do that multilingual thing where you speak in Korean and he answers you in English. It reminds me of me and my Mum.”
“Our friends in Korea hate it, but he finds English easier, so we slip between languages a lot. I didn’t realise we’d been doing that so much here.”
“Don’t stop on our account. I think Halmoni loves it.”
“I don’t think I could if I tried.”
They’re interrupted by the door swinging open behind them, Jieqiong stopping short when she finds them stood on the doorstep. “Aw, hiya. Don’ suppowse you’ve seen Junnie rand ‘ere av ya, babes?”
“Jun? No, he’s not out here,” Jisoo replies. “Are you looking for him?”
Jieqiong hums in affirmation and holds her hand out, Junhui’s little hearing aids sitting in her palm. “I wulnd’t warry usualley, bu’ ‘es taken ‘is ‘earing aids ouwt agaiyn,” she says, backing up inside. “We keep tellin’ ‘im not ta, bu’…”
“I’ll come and help you look,” he offers, stepping inside again, Jisoo following after him after snuffing out her cigarette. “I’m sure he’ll be around here somewhere, Jieqiong.”
“Yeah,” Jieqiong says quietly, taking a long look at the hearing aids before starting up the corridor towards the ballroom. Junhui’s tantrum earlier had been about the noise coming from the staff work in the ballroom, so he’s unlikely to be down there, and it’s a little worrying that Jieqiong has checked all the more possible rooms already.
“Let’s check the upstairs rooms,” he suggests, and Jisoo wordlessly accompanies him.
They check their own bedrooms, and he takes a quick glance through the open doors for the rest of the corridor, not wanting to encroach on anyone’s privacy. He calls out Junhui’s name once, then feels silly about how pointless that is, and moves onto the bathroom and unused bedrooms in the next corridor along. By the time he reaches the study rooms and small drawing rooms in obvious disuse, he wonders if he should turn back, with Jisoo long since split off from him to explore another corridor.
Junhui is young, he reminds himself, and very curious. He probably went exploring and found himself an interesting cranny of the castle, despite Cheol’s repeated reminders not to go wandering around on his own. He briefly wishes Junhui had someone closer to his age to play with, but supposes that will be less of a problem in the next few years, when Minghao and Jinae’s new baby catch up to him.
“Junhui?” he calls out again, wondering how just how hard of hearing Junhui is. If Seungkwan yelled loud enough, would he hear something?
Further up the corridor, there’s a door hanging partially open where all the rest are closed. He walks over to it, pushing through and peering inside. “Junhui?”
Junhui is inside, sat in the middle of the floor, one of Wonwoo’s cats lying awkwardly on his lap. There are four tiny kittens in front of them, mewling and crawling around on a blanket, looking slightly damp and matted.
He moves into Junhui’s line of sight so as not to startle him, kneeling down beside the congregation of cats. He waves at him, raising his eyebrows, trying to convey what are you doing in here being a five-year-old cat dad? without words. Then he feels a little dumb about it, because Junhui can probably lipread.
Junhui doesn’t look surprised that he’s there, but does look up at the door, like he was expecting someone else. It’s only a few moments later that Wonwoo appears in the doorway, holding a bowl of water carefully in his hands, a big towel slung over his shoulder. He does look surprised to see Seungkwan there, stopping in his tracks when he finds him kneeling by his cats.
“Hi,” Seungkwan says. “Sorry to intrude, but I was sent on the Junhui hunt.”
“Ah,” Wonwoo says, kneeling down and dipping the end of the towel in the water. He leans over to carefully wipe one of the kittens down, clearing her eyes of a clear gunk that’s collected there. “I was going to take him back downstairs, but I kind of had my hands full. He wanted to stay and help, and I didn’t know how to tell that him people will be worried in sign language.”
“Wait,” he says, looking between Wonwoo and the dozing tabby cat on Junhui’s lap. “Are these kittens… is this your pregnant cat?”
“This was my pregnant cat,” Wonwoo says, smiling down at the little mewling kitten in his hands. “Now with four wonderful babies.”
“Oh,” he says, soft, leaning down to join Junhui in petting her. “Good job, ma’am. Congratulations.”
“Junhui?” Jisoo’s voice comes echoing down the corridor, and Seungkwan stands again, going back to the door.
“He’s in here!” he calls back. “He’s fine, we’ve just had a cat-related birthing incident. Could you let Jieqiong know?”
Jisoo sends him a thumbs up, spinning on her heels to head back downstairs.
“Well,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. “I don’t know how you ended up doing this in here, but I’m glad he didn’t wander far.”
“He’s just curious, is all,” Wonwoo says, gently putting the kitten back down on the blanket. The mother cat suddenly stands up from Junhui’s lap to curl around her kittens, purring. “And he loves the cats. Maybe I can talk to Cheol about giving some of these kitties a home with them.”
Junhui rises onto his knees with a beaming smile. He makes a gesture for whiskers at his cheeks, mouthing the word cat, and then presses his fingertips together in the obvious pointed sign for home, and then a big thumbs up, giggling with glee.
“I think he read your lips,” Seungkwan says, suppressing a smile as Wonwoo scratches his head.
“Ah. Yes. I really will have to talk with Cheol later, then.”
“You’ll forever be the favourite uncle now. I have no hope.”
Wonwoo just smiles down at his cat, stroking behind her ears. Junhui bounces in place, buzzing with delight, already eyeing up the selection of kittens in front of him.
-
The ballroom isn’t one of the properly heated rooms in the castle, but between the little electric heaters set up in the corners and the amount of bodies piling in for the party, it becomes stiflingly warm only an hour or two into the night. Then there’s the fact that he’d insisted on wearing a three-piece suit for the event, because it’s fancy, Jihoon, while Hansol has turned up in a plain white tee under an open denim button-up. He’s jealous that he can take the button-up off when he gets too warm, and jealous that he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest about the looks thrown his way by distant second-cousins and noble guests at the party. But Seungkwan is known for his stubborn nature, and he stands by Jihoon’s side and continues to smile and sweat under the layers of his suit as the night trawls on.
He’s shaken so many hands so far that his skin is starting to get dry. He can’t remember anyone’s names, but Jihoon seems to be on friendly terms with just about everyone. It reminds him of how good Jihoon is at polite small talk, too—he’s always been good at that, was exceptional at it when he met all of Seungkwan’s family and friends in Korea, but it’s even smoother in English. Seungkwan watches him, and he sees it, for the first time—the little duke figure in Jihoon, the nobility role he’d be fully capable of, if it came down to it. And Seungkwan, smiling by his side. Maybe, one day.
He keeps knocking back glasses of champagne and fancy wine in between each conversation, though, and he knows from experience that this sort of Jihoon isn’t sustainable for very long. They’ll have to excuse themselves early tonight.
“I thought our great-uncle was uninvited from these things since he called Jinae a stupid cow,” Jihoon says, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t know how he got in here.”
“Which one is he?”
“The one who was telling us about cycling with Boris Johnson.”
“Oh, yes. I didn’t like him much, anyway.”
Jihoon groans, dragging his hands over his face. “I don’t know why Granddad wanted to host this. It’s much more fun to spend your birthday with people you actually like.”
“Each to their own,” he says cheerily, taking Jihoon by the elbow and leading him over to the chocolate fountain by the food table. “Come on, let’s have some food, shall we? And you can pretend to make deep conversation with me for a bit so no one else comes up to interrupt us.”
“You’re dreaming if you think that’s going to work,” Jihoon says, plastering on a smile right before a middle-aged woman in a large mustard dress comes up to give Jihoon an uncomfortably close hug, complete with unwanted cheek kiss. “Lady Bedford, hello! How wonderful to see you!”
“Jack, dear, you’re so big now, aren’t you!” Lady Bedford says, gripping his arm and shaking him slightly as if to test this statement. “I remember when you were a wee one, you know! It’s so lovely to see you again!” She turns to Seungkwan, looking him up and down. “I’m sorry, dear, I don’t think I remember your name?”
“That’s because we’ve never met,” he says with his perfected smile. “I’m Seungkwan.”
“He’s my partner, he’s been staying with us over Christmas,” Jihoon says quickly.
“Oh, I see!” Lady Bedford laughs, hand splayed over her chest. “My apologies, dear, I assumed you were one of the Parcy grandchildren. There are an awful lot of you, you know, I just can’t keep track! He’s your business partner, you say? What do you two do together?”
He and Jihoon exchange a glance, and Seungkwan scrunches his nose, nodding slightly.
“We work in translation,” Jihoon says, plastic smile slightly deflated.
“Well, isn’t that just perfect for you! Much better than the antics my children get up to, I tell you. Now, have you had any of this delicious looking swiss roll, or will I have to try some for myself?”
Once they’ve shaken off Lady Bedford, Seungkwan decides to lead them back to the table occupied by Hansol, Soonyoung, Jinae, Wonwoo, Gikwang and Junhui, who’s hardly looked up from his mobile pet-care game the whole night so far. Joining them means all the seats around the table are taken, and he hopes that’s enough deference to avoid conversation with strangers for a while longer, if only to grab ten minutes of peace. Jihoon’s just picking at the snacks on his plate, though, even the Viennese whirls he loves so much. It’s not a good sign.
Seungkwan leans over to talk into his ear, even though Jinae and Junhui sat either side of them clearly aren’t listening in. “We can duck out after they sing Happy Birthday, yeah? Let’s call it a night soon. You don’t want to feel like crap for the next few days because of this.”
Jihoon nods without looking at him. Seungkwan sits back in his seat, watching him for a moment before taking a defeated bite out of his Battenberg cake.
They do indeed snag several minutes of companiable silence sat around the table, the other Parcy family members seemingly drooping a little too, so Seungkwan watches the room as they rest. It’s beautifully done up, another huge Christmas tree erected in the corner where the tables start spanning out around the room, each covered in white tablecloths and lace doilies and enough fancy cutlery to serve any type of food. There’s a space left in the middle of the floor for people to dance to the genial classical music being played, but the guests are mostly standing around making polite conversation instead. Algie and Halmoni have been sat at one of the tables for most of the night, greeting an endless stream of guests, but they seem happy enough. Algie is animatedly talking to a large man in a tweed suit, looking pink from his glass of gin, sharp and handsome for his age in his own black suit. Mingyu is shutting the ballroom doors on the other side of the room, making some sort of gesture to an attentive Bitna. She proceeds to raise her glass over the heads of the crowd, tapping on it with her fork, quickly drawing the attention of the entire room.
“Thank you, everybody,” she says, gracious, walking over to her father. “And welcome! We’re so honoured and pleased you could come here to celebrate Dad’s 80th today. I won’t rattle on about it because I know Dad has something prepared to say later on, but let’s have three cheers together, shall we? Hip hip!”
“Hooray!” cheers the room, raising their glasses. Junhui doesn’t even look up from the oversized phone in his hands, so Seungkwan nudges him as the room goes into another cheer. Junhui glances up at him blankly.
“We’re about to sing Happy Birthday,” he says, under the third loud cheer.
Junhui shrugs up at him, going back to his game. Then Seungkwan notices he’s taken his hearing aids out again, the clear plastic sitting on his lap under the phone. He thinks Junhui might be too smart for his own good.
“We’re going to sing Happy Birthday now, so that we can get this huge cake cut and eaten,” Bitna announces, as Mingyu carries his grand two-tier Victoria sponge creation over to Algie’s table, eight red candles stuck in the top. There’s another, less cohesive cheer from the room, and she laughs. “It looks delicious, doesn’t it?”
The musicians in the corner start up the fanciest version of Happy Birthday he’s ever heard, and the room sings along in time.
“Happy Birthday to you!” he sings with them, but there’s a loud man singing very heartily right behind him, bellowing Happy Birthday to you! over his head. It means he almost misses it when Jinae leans over to Jihoon, tapping his thigh to get his attention. Happy Birthday dear Algie!
“Jihoon, love, my waters have just broken.”
Happy Birthday to you!
Jihoon freezes, stock still. “W-what?”
“Nothing to worry about. Could you go and get Sungmin for me, dear, he said he’d drive me to the hospital if the baby came early.”
“The baby?” Wonwoo says, whipping around in his seat as Jihoon scrapes his chair back under the sound of clapping. He’s headed across the room before Seungkwan can move to follow him, so he hops over to Jihoon’s empty seat instead.
“Do you need anything, Auntie?” he asks, not really sure what you’re supposed to offer someone going into labour.
“That’s quite alright, Seungkwan,” she says, her chest heaving as she pushes herself out of her seat. Sungmin is striding over behind Jihoon, Chan in tow, and Seungkwan loosely holds onto one of her arms, but she shakes him off. “Don’t worry about it, lad, I’ve done this before, and no birth can be worse than Jeonghan’s. Can someone get her, too? It looks like we’re about to be in for a night in the hospital, kids.”
“Yeah, I will,” Wonwoo says, slightly dazed, lurching up out of his seat and disappearing into the crowd.
“I’ll go and pull the car around for you,” Sungmin says, keys already jangling in hand. “You alright?”
“Just fine, would you stop fussing?” Jinae says, waddling over to the ballroom doors. “Someone tell Dad I’m sorry to dip so early, will you?”
Jihoon stands there, watching the whole exchange uselessly. He nods slightly frantically. “No problem, Auntie, will do.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Chan asks. “I’m not a midwife, but I’ve been trained in the basics.”
Jinae laughs. “I’m going to have my hands full with Jeonghan and Wonwoo, son. Oh, bloomin’ heck, she’s bringing Jisoo too. Definitely not, Chan, I’ll be fine. What are you all fretting for? Go back to the party now, will you!”
Seungkwan comes up to Jihoon’s side, bumping into him gently. He’s got this dazed, faraway look to his eyes. “I think Jinae might be the coolest person ever. Two births in two days must be some sort of record for the family too, right?”
Jihoon just blows out one long breath, watching Jinae and her kids disappear through the doors after Sungmin. Then Bitna is making her way over to the table with Areum to ask what all the fuss is about, and Jihoon is looking around at them with wide eyes.
“Hey,” Seungkwan says, slightly firmer, to bring him back to earth. Jihoon meets his eyes, and Seungkwan leads him out through the doors with a gentle touch to the small of his back. The corridor outside is immediately cooler than the ballroom, and Jihoon touches his pink cheeks with the back of his hand. “That frazzled you a bit, didn’t it? Do you want to call it a night?”
“Yeah,” Jihoon breathes. “I feel like my head is spinning.”
“Yeah, alright, love,” he says, resting an arm over his shoulders. They take a few steps down the corridor before he stops, glancing over his shoulder. “Wait, I should probably go and let someone know we’re going to bed.”
Jihoon takes a rattling breath in, looking up to the high, stone ceiling above with a groan. “I really want to go home.”
“I hate to break it to you, but home is about five thousand miles away right now. Will bed do instead?”
They stand in the middle of the corridor together for a few moments, Jihoon with his nicely parted hair, Seungkwan with his hands on Jihoon’s arms. The party rages on in the room behind them, oblivious to their absence.
“What about my house? My childhood home? Do you want to drive there with me?”
“You’ve been drinking,” he points out.
“You haven’t,” he says, and trust Jihoon to notice that, with everything else happening tonight. “It’s not far from here.” He looks up at him with pleading eyes, like a child looking for permission.
If going home would bring Jihoon down from this horrible headspace he’s worked himself up to, Seungkwan doesn’t have to think twice about it. “Okay. Let me go and pack us a bag. Do you want to wait here?”
Jihoon nods, and Seungkwan takes off jogging down the hallway, back up the grand staircase, along the cold corridor to their bedroom. He’d left a few things in the bottom of his suitcase to cover up the ring box hidden there, so it doesn’t take him long to throw in a few more essentials as well as some of Jihoon’s belongings. He’ll need to hide the ring somewhere else once they arrive.
Jihoon is standing by the doors when Seungkwan comes back down—he raises Chan’s car keys in hand, his tie loose and the top buttons of his shirt undone. The party is only a distant noise down the hallway now, cut off completely when they step outside into the night. The snow on the ground is starting to thaw, gathered in clumps between the cobblestones, and the air is frosty on his warm cheeks and neck. He dumps their bag in the boot of Chan’s little Nissan Micra, then has to double back on himself to sit in the right side of the car.
“Ready to go?”
Jihoon nods, tipping his head back against the headrest. “Let’s go.”
-
The Lee family home is more modest than he’d expected. It’s no mansion, but it’s still a four-bedroom terrace five minutes away from the coast, ivy stylishly climbing over the brickwork and hanging down over their heads as Jihoon unlocks the front door.
Jihoon doesn’t turn the lights on when they get inside, but deposits the keys on the kitchen counter and navigates the dark house with familiarity. Seungkwan follows after him without question, one hand in his, the other pulling their bag along as they climb up the stairs in socks. Jihoon’s bedroom is the first on the left upstairs, looking out to sea. It’s well-kept and clean, but shows all the markings of a bedroom that hasn’t really been lived in since he was a teenager—old photographs on the walls, Pokémon stickers on the side of his dresser, cheap little ornaments and classic novels stacked on the shelves. The bed is freshly made, though, a small double in the middle of the room.
“Wow,” he breathes, as Jihoon starts to pull his suit jacket off, unceremoniously dropping it on the floor. “This is so cute. I can totally imagine you in here with your little blonde ponytail….”
Jihoon grunts as he pulls his shirt over his head. “Don’t know why Mum keeps this room the same. I moved out years ago.”
“It’s sweet,” he says. Jihoon just starts pulling off his trousers with a shrug.
“I’m going to go and wash up, okay?” he says. He might as well get ready for bed properly if that’s what Jihoon wants to do now.
Jihoon nods, so he stoops down to pick up his washbag and pyjamas and leaves the room. There are a few different doors to try along the upstairs corridor until he finds the bathroom, and along the way he sees a bedroom covered in movie posters and video game figures, and another one plastered in band posters. He can only assume they belong to teenage Seokmin and Chan respectively.
By the time he’s back in Jihoon’s bedroom, they’re both in their pyjamas. Jihoon’s hair has flattened down into a slightly damp, messy shade over his eyes, like he’d stuck his head under a running tap. Maybe there’s another bathroom somewhere in the house. Seungkwan shuts the door quietly behind him and pads over to the bed. It’s not until he sits down on one side to take off his socks that he hears Jihoon take in a wet breath.
He turns to see him lying on his side, almost completely buried under his duvet, hands balled by the pillow. The light from the window reveals just enough of his face to show the tear silently rolling down his cheek, and his wet, red eyes.
“Oh, my love,” Seungkwan says, turning and pulling himself under the duvet too. “Please don’t cry, or I’ll start crying with you. Is it that bad?”
He lies parallel to him, on his side, hands reaching out but not quite touching. Jihoon shakes his head, wiping his face half-heartedly. “It’s not just the party. I’ve been thinking about something.” He hiccups, once, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Can I say something to you?”
“Of course. Tell me.”
They wait in silence for a few seconds. Jihoon isn’t meeting his eyes. “I’m really sorry for not telling you the whole truth earlier.”
“This again? We’ve been through this, Hyung, it’s okay. I’ve forgiven you, I understand. You don’t need to be worried about it anymore.”
Jihoon shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. A single tear runs across his nose, dropping down and seeping into the sheets. “I realised something after we talked. I told you before that I kept it to myself because I was afraid.” He pauses, taking in a shuddering breath. “But it wasn’t just that. I liked it. I liked that you didn’t know about my family, and you didn’t treat me any differently for it. I liked that you liked me for who I am, and just that. I liked having a separate life in Korea. It made me feel like a new person, and I didn’t want it to get mixed up with the person I am here. It was nice to pretend. I didn’t tell my family much about you for the same reason. But bringing you here made me realise how much I’ve been missing out on by trying to keep you away, and how much of myself I’ve been holding back by not telling you the truth. You’re important to me, and my family is important to me. It was selfish of me to try and separate you, especially when you’ve fit in with them so well here. I want you to be friends with my brothers and cousins. I want you to know this part of my life. I’m so sorry it took me so long to realise that. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my inheritance. I’m sorry. I really wish I’d been honest earlier.”
Seungkwan stays still for a moment, fingers twitching. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes, please,” Jihoon whispers, and Seungkwan leans forwards, running one hand through Jihoon’s hair as he embraces him on the bed. Jihoon hugs him back, hands grasping at his t-shirt, body shaking as he works through his tears.
“Thank you so much for telling me,” he murmurs, nuzzling their foreheads slightly. “It’s okay. You can let go of the regret now. No harm was done, in the end.”
“I want to give you everything,” Jihoon says into his collarbone. “I want to live my whole life with you. I’m going to do better in the future. I’m going to make you proud.”
Seungkwan can feel tears burning at his eyes, too, and he clutches Jihoon harder. “I know you will. You’re so good. I love you so much.”
Jihoon sniffs into his shoulder. They lie there for a little while, and Seungkwan listens to Jihoon bring his breathing under control. When he pulls away, Seungkwan lets him, but he can’t resist kissing the tear tracks on his face a few times.
He only relents when Jihoon speaks again. “Coming back for Christmas made me realise something else, too.”
“Yeah?” he asks, stroking some of the soft, dark hair behind his ear. “What’s that?”
“I love visiting the castle. I love my family. But I don’t want to live this life constantly. I don’t want the expectations that come with Granddad’s title. I just want to have a normal life, with you. A normal house here, or a normal apartment in Korea, doing translation or marketing or whatever normal job pays the bills. I want to live without all this anxiety around my future. I’m going to talk to Granddad and tell him how I feel about inheriting. It’s up to him whether he wants to pass the dukedom onto Mum or Bitna, but I think I should be more honest about what I want, even if it’s hard to say. At least then he’d know.”
Seungkwan gives him a long, pressing kiss to the forehead, and comes back with a smile. “That’s amazing, Hyung. I think that’s a really good idea. I’m so proud of you.” Jihoon gives him a small smile, and Seungkwan can’t help but kiss him on the lips, once, then twice. They taste like salt, and he kisses him again, across his cheek, right the way up to his ear.
“You helped me realise it. I know who I want to be because of you,” Jihoon murmurs into the pillow, and Seungkwan kisses down his neck, hand bunched in his shirt.
“Nothing has changed, you know,” Seungkwan says, leaning back out to look down at him properly. Jihoon is meeting his eyes, now. “Since you brought me back here, it hasn’t changed how I feel about you. I’ve definitely learned some new things about your life, but I still love you just the same. Maybe even a little bit more, after meeting your family.”
“Really?” Jihoon asks, voice small.
“Really,” he says, relaxing back into the pillow. “I’ve loved spending Christmas here so much. I hope we can do this again in the future.”
“We will,” Jihoon says, with certainty. “I know we’ll be back.”
“Good,” he says, snaking a hand under the back of Jihoon’s shirt to place his palm against the warm skin there. “I’m really proud of you, you know. Thank you for telling me how you’ve been feeling.”
Jihoon buries his face into Seungkwan’s shoulder and sighs. “Thank you for staying by me.”
“Always.” He rubs slow, gentle circles into Jihoon’s back. “Let’s go to sleep now, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jihoon mumbles, already dropping off to the repetitive movement. Seungkwan lies in the dark for a while, listening to him breathe, slow puffs of warm breath over his heart.
-
The next day, after a long doze in Jihoon’s childhood bedroom, they go out for a walk along the beach. It’s freezing cold out, and very breezy along the beach, with the winter wind rushing along the cliff walls beside them. Out at sea, the waves crash into themselves, water building up and spraying down again out along the horizon. They walk side by side without holding hands. Too cold for that. Seungkwan didn’t pack their gloves.
Jihoon looks out to sea. Finally, for the first time since they’ve arrived here, maybe even for the first time since Seungkwan has known him, he looks completely content. Like this is where he is most himself. Like he knows he’ll always return to this place, sooner or later.
So will Seungkwan, in the end, if it means being at his side.
He tugs on Jihoon’s sleeve, stood there on the empty beach, and Jihoon turns to look at him. Seungkwan sinks down onto one knee, and pulls the ring box out of his pocket.
“Jihoon,” he says, and a gust of wind sends sand swirling past them. Jihoon, looking at him with wide eyes, stumbles back slightly with the force of it. “Will you marry me?”
Jihoon’s face transforms slowly as he watches him open the ring box. First comes the eyes creasing at the corners, then the growing smile. Then he laughs, light and honest, and picks the ring out of the open box. “Me?”
“Who else?” he says over the sound of the wind, half-shouting, grinning like crazy. “Please say yes!”
Jihoon slides the ring onto his finger, then flattens his hand out in front of him to see how it glints under the winter sun. “Absolutely, definitely yes,” he says, eyes bright, looking up at Seungkwan. “I have one for you, too!”
“You—you what?” he says, pushing himself back to his feet. Jihoon produces a ring from his own pocket—no box, but it’s fancier than the one Seungkwan had given him, with a little encrusted opal glittering on the silver band.
“The box is back at the castle,” Jihoon explains, taking Seungkwan’s left hand and slowly sliding it onto his ring finger. “I was planning to propose on New Year’s Eve, but then—well. I actually found your box last night while I was getting changed, and I decided to wait for you to go first instead. I guess we were on the same wavelength this winter.”
Seungkwan’s mouth drops open. “You found it?” God, he should’ve taken it with him when he got changed, stored it in the medicine cabinet or something. “Seriously?”
“It’s okay, it motivated me to get all that off my chest last night. I can’t believe you still want marry me after how much of a disaster yesterday was.”
Seungkwan can’t stop smiling despite himself, staring at the twinkling gem on his finger. It’s perfect—Jihoon knows him so well. Better than anyone. He takes his hand and kisses his knuckle, just below the ring.
“It was nothing of the sort,” he says, pulling Jihoon’s hands into his pockets. “I loved you yesterday, and I love you today, and I’ll love you tomorrow. That’s why I want to marry you.”
Jihoon kisses him, their hands clasped together, balled up in Seungkwan’s pockets. He can feel the rings pressing against skin, and the beat of his heart in his chest, and the warmth of Jihoon’s mouth on his. They stay huddled close together on the beach for a little while longer, protecting each other from the sharp winter winds before they start to walk back up to the house again. Hand in hand this time, despite the cold.
-
They return to the castle on New Year’s Eve to much teasing from Seokmin about missing all the drama. Coincidentally, they manage to return only an hour or two after Jinae and her new baby are discharged from the hospital, arriving back at the castle together after nearly three days of tests, monitoring, and checks. They’re both healthy and well, and the new baby is so, so tiny, nestled in Jeonghan’s arms on the couch. Jeonghan doesn’t make a single remark about their absence when they walk in, too busy rocking her new baby sister to her chest with stars in her eyes, Wonwoo watching them fondly from the side.
“I was thinking of calling her Cheonsa,” Jinae tells them. “Because she’s our winter angel. What do you think?”
“It sounds very blunt in Korean,” Jihoon tells her.
“I think it’s lovely,” Seungkwan says, wrapping an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders pointedly. Jihoon raises an eyebrow at him in response, but doesn’t say anything.
“She is an angel,” Halmoni agrees, running a thumb over her soft, chubby cheeks. “Little Cheonsa.”
“Thank you,” Jinae says, pointing at Seungkwan. “You’re my new favourite nephew.”
“He’s not even your real nephew!” Chan says with a laugh.
“He will be soon,” Hansol remarks from where he’s working through a plate of mince pies on his own. Several heads turn to look at him, and he gestures towards Jihoon and Seungkwan vaguely. “Rings.”
The room positively bursts in response, disrupting the peace with varying exclamations from Bitna, Areum, Jieqiong, Cheol and Seokmin, and a speechless Chan, who abruptly stands to grab Jihoon’s hand and inspect the simple band on his ring finger. Mingyu says Am well ‘appy for yuh from where he’s playing with Cheonsa’s tiny hand, and Bitna has them detail the exact circumstances of their proposal, hand over her heart. Areum hugs Jihoon so tightly he has to tap out after a few seconds, though he’s beaming when he does. Amidst the general joy, it suddenly strikes Seungkwan that Jihoon’s parents might have expected him to ask for their permission.
Gikwang’s strong, proud hug for Seungkwan chases away his fears of being improper. “Please don’t cry, Dad,” Jihoon says, and Gikwang laughs, then turns away to rub his eyes.
Seungkwan is beaming all the way through dinner, and all through their post-dinner games, and even still into the night as he watches Jihoon talk quietly with Algie, Areum, and Halmoni in a corner. It’s late by the time he comes back to sit by Seungkwan’s side, reaching out to take his hand in his. In front of his whole family. Without even hiding it.
Seungkwan is beaming even brighter when Mingyu comes in, pulling his coat over his shoulders.
“I’m gunna go ge’ firewurks readeh,” he tells them, and Junhui leaps up from his seat.
“Fireworks!”
“Not yet, love, he’s getting them ready for midnight,” Cheol tells him.
“Oh, it’s so warm in here, though,” Jinae complains, fanning herself. “Let’s just go outside already, shall we? It’s not long until midnight now.”
“I second that,” Sungmin says. “We might as well start getting ready. Everything takes longer with so many of us, anyway.”
He’s right. It takes nearly twenty minutes for all eighteen of them to get their coats on and scarves wrapped, filing out into the dark night and trying not to slip in the icy courtyard. Hansol and Soonyoung are the only ones staying inside, offering to keep an eye on the baby monitors and Wonwoo’s various pets. “Thenk ah waz a dog in me pahst liyfe,” Soonyoung explains, bashfully. “Don’ like th’ bangs, like.”
When everyone has made it to the once-grassy ground where Mingyu is working with an expensive-looking mechanism of fireworks, Seokmin starts handing out sparklers, heading over to Mingyu last to make sure he gets his own. They laugh about something quietly together, slightly removed from the group, and Junhui laughs more maniacally as he waves his sparkler around, Chan taking half a step back as Jieqiong says be carefuwl, lav. It’s been snowing on and off for the past few days, so every step they take crunches, and snowflakes are falling again now, a light flurry that dusts the snow with new, shining white.
“Does anyone have the time?” Algie asks, sat patiently under several blankets, a big woolly hat pulled over his ears.
“I’m trying to get the proper countdown up,” Wonwoo murmurs, looking at his phone. After a few seconds, BBC1’s midnight fireworks program starts playing from the tinny speaker, the host announcing that they have two minutes until the new year.
Junhui’s sparkler runs out. “Another, another!” he demands, bounding up to Cheol and tugging on his long coat, bouncing on the tips of his toes.
“You can have mine, Junnie,” Seungkwan says quickly, holding out his unlit sparkler. “I’m not fond of them.”
“Thank you!” Junhui exclaims, taking it from him carefully and dashing back over to Jisoo and her lighter.
“Cute,” Jihoon says quietly beside him, and Seungkwan turns to see bright eyes, a warm smile.
“Me?” he asks, pointing at himself playfully.
“Who else?” Jihoon parrots back at him, throwing his used sparkler on the ground with the rest and linking his arm through Seungkwan’s.
“Me!” Junhui exclaims as his sparkler catches alight. He laughs again, waving it around to see the impression of light that drags after it. “Expecto Patronum!”
“Readeh?” Mingyu calls from ahead of them, and they chorus back with a collective yes! He presses something, then takes several step backs with Seokmin. “Thes a fifteen-secund timuh,” he explains, gripping Seokmin’s hand at his side as they both eye the contraption warily.
“Good timing,” Wonwoo says, as the crowds on his tiny screen start chanting ten, nine, eight.
“Seven, six, five!” he joins in, as do the family around him. Jihoon counts too, focusing on the sky above them.
“Four, three—” the first firework goes off, causing Seokmin and Mingyu to jump with matching screams and grip onto each other. It’s quickly followed by stream of several more, firing off high and loud and bright into the sky. The London fireworks on Wonwoo’s screen are drowned out by the bangs that resonate overhead, and the family members around him cheer, the rest of the countdown forgotten.
Before he knows it, his hand is being grabbed by Jeonghan, and he and Jihoon are dragged into the rough formation of a family circle. Bitna, slightly tipsy on her evening lagers, leads their chorus of Auld Lang Syne with a powerful voice, enthusiastically swinging their arms by their sides. Seungkwan sings words that may or may not be right, but no one seems to care, all loud and enthusiastic rather than accurate.
They do one verse, and then Junhui tugs himself away to watch the silent Catherine wheels spin above them, jumping in place to try and see better. Cheol picks him up against his side, and Junhui clutches his shoulders, not taking his eyes away from the sky. Over to one side, Areum and Gikwang are holding hands and jumping in a circle, completing the rest of the Auld Lang Syne verses on their own.
Seungkwan watches the sky burst with glitter, then watches the way Jihoon beams up at the fireworks, coloured light reflecting across his face with every bang. He takes a quick glance around to check that no one else is looking—Seokmin and Mingyu are the closest, and they seem plenty busy with each other—then leans down to peck Jihoon’s mouth, quick, soft. Jihoon looks over at him, eyes shining.
“Happy New Year, Hyung,” he says.
Jihoon kisses him back, lingers on his lips like he doesn’t care who’s looking. “Happy New Year,” he says, right as a deafening bang cracks the sky, so Seungkwan feels the words rather than hears them.
They watch the fireworks explode until they’re only left with smoke and stars. The castle stands behind them, proud and old, and the family that inhabit it stand around him, feet slipping in the snow. Jihoon remains at his side, shivering and smiling and littered with snowflakes all over.
The year is new, and his heart is fuller than ever.