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“He Tian, would you like some more potatoes?”
“Ah, yes, thank you.”
Mo glanced at He Tian as the young man took the bowl with a charming smile. His dark eyes flicked to Mo, and the smile on his lips slid to reveal his teeth, turning wolfish in moments.
Cheeks hot, Guan Shan turned back to his plate. Soft Christmas music played from the radio in the kitchen, and the entire house smelled like pie and roast beef. Mrs. Mo had insisted on buying and making the entire dinner, despite He Tian’s offers to help pay for it. It made Mo’s chest blossom with pride. It was from her that he’d learned not to take any charity where it wasn’t needed. If one takes too much, eventually something would be expected in return, and it wasn’t always up to choice what it was.
“Would you like some, Guan Shan?” He Tian purred.
Heat crawled up Guan Shan’s neck, and he glanced at his mom. She had a small, placid smile on her face as she ate, seeming to ignore them. He could not believe He Tian would use a voice like that in front of his damn mother.
Cutting him a glare, Mo flipped him off by his thigh.
“No. I’m full.”
He Tian’s smile widened, and he set the plate of potatoes back down in the center of the table.
“If you say so.”
It should have been more awkward than it was, to be honest. Ever since the holidays began, He Tian had been appearing more and more, sometimes announced but most of the time by surprise. Mo had a suspicion that it had something to do with that empty, undecorated flat of He Tian’s. When he’d visited a few weeks ago, he’d asked He Tian why he didn’t even bother with a tree. He Tian had waved a hand.
“There’s no point in decorating an empty place,” he’d said with a chuckle. There was something sad to it. There was a flicker of darkness in He Tian’s eyes as he’d taken another drag of a cigarette and gazed at the corner beside the large window of his flat. It was the perfect space to put a ridiculous Christmas tree he could no doubt afford, but it sat empty, just like the rest of the place.
Mo Guan Shan had seen that dark gaze a few times, and it chilled his spine. It had appeared more and more as the air grew bitter and sparkling Christmas lights popped up on every street and all around the school. Jian Yi wore his damn Santa hat every single day, even when he got in trouble for it, and had convinced Zhan Zheng Xi to do it, too.
He Tian never brought it up, but Mo saw his forcefulness of his smile, the tightness around his eyes.
Mo Guan Shan blamed that and his mother for why He Tian sat next to him right now.
The sweater Mrs. Mo had forced him to wear itched, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her. It was tacky red and green with a grinning reindeer on the front, and Guan Shan wouldn’t be caught dead in it anywhere outside of his house. The only consolation he had was that He Tian had been gifted one, too. His had a sly snowman with a top hat and an arched brow of coal, which Guan Shan thought was rather fitting.
Dinner passed, and Mo helped his mother clean up, both of them waving off He Tian’s offer to help, before Mrs. Mo broke out the bottle of wine. On every holiday, she allowed Mo to have a single glass of wine, and tonight was no exception. She poured a glass for each of them, and they took them into the living room to unwrap presents.
“You first, my little Mo,” Mrs. Mo announced with a smile. She handed him a carefully wrapped square present, whose paper was the same as last year. Mo took a sip of his wine, relaxing at the burn of it curling in his belly, before setting his glass aside and taking it.
It was another sweater, only this one was soft and gray. He thanked her with a hug and a kiss on her cheek, not looking at He Tian as he did so. He could feel the other boy’s eyes on him, and was determined not to give him the satisfaction of being embarrassed.
Mo handed Mrs. Mo a small green bag, in which was a small white box. Inside of that was a pair of green earrings with silver studs, bought with the money He Tian had paid him for cooking.
Mrs. Mo’s eyes teared up, and she drew him into a tight hug.
Next came He Tian’s turn. From beneath the tree he dragged out the two presents he’d brought with him. Mo’s was ridiculously huge; it was a rectangle almost as long as he was, with tacky red and gold wrapping paper. Mrs. Mo’s was a large bag with small Christmas bulbs on it.
Mrs. Mo opened hers first and gasped. Inside was a sleek beige purse. It baffled Guan Shan, as it wasn’t anything he thought He Tian would even notice in the store, but it was almost just like Mrs. Mo’s old one, except without the holes and frayed handles from use.
She hugged He Tian, who grinned and waved off her claims that it was too much.
Then he turned expectantly to Mo, who grit his teeth.
If he was being honest, he was excited to open it. But he hated the pleased look on He Tian’s face and the arrogant way he leaned back in his chair, long fingers curled around his wine glass. His lips were already stained red.
Guan Shan forced himself to turn to the present before him, and he hauled it into his lap. It was surprisingly light, and he tore into it, tossing the hideous wrapping paper side.
Halfway in, Guan Shan paused.
“How did you…?”
His heart pounded, and he ripped the rest of the paper off. The package was a bitch to open, and Guan Shan cursed a few times as he sliced his finger on the cardboard edge.
Scissors appeared before him, and Guan Shan looked up. He Tian leaned over his chair, grinning. His dark eyes danced, but the emptiness was gone. Now, there was something warm and excited that sent Mo’s heart racing.
Guan Shan snatched the scissors and cut into the tape, trying valiantly to ignore the heat of He Tian over his shoulder and the brush of his breath on Mo’s neck.
Finally the packaging came free, and Guan Shan pulled out a gorgeous brown guitar. It was simple but sleek, with designs in a rich brown across the face. He ran his fingers across it, and soft notes rang through the house. Guan Shan looked up at He Tian and jumped to find their faces inches away.
“Is it the right one?” He Tian murmured.
Guan Shan licked his lips, flushing as He Tian’s eyes followed the movement. He glared.
“How did you know I wanted it?”
Something in He Tian’s eyes flickered, but it was gone before Guan Shan could be sure it was there in the first place.
“I pay attention, Mo,” he teased. “Maybe you can write me a song sometime.”
“No chance in hell.”
“Guan Shan–”
“Sorry, mom.”
He Tian grinned, and Guan Shan turned away before he could get into more trouble for punching his stupid face.
“Your mother is very kind.”
Guan Shan glanced at He Tian.
The light had faded as the night drew on, and only a few candles set a soft glow about them. The rest of the house was silent, as Mrs. Mo had turned in to bed hours ago.
Guan Shan strummed lightly on his guitar, his slender fingers picking across the strings.
“I know,” Guan Shan replied. He’d helped himself and He Tian to another glass of wine, and it warmed his veins, relaxing his shoulders even beneath He Tian’s intense gaze. The man’s coal-black eyes poured into him from across the room. It seemed as though they sought something, but Guan Shan was at a loss as to what.
“…Thank you for letting me celebrate with you.”
That made Guan Shan’s head snap up.
“What?”
He Tian took a sip of wine. His tongue flicked across his lips to catch the lingering taste, and the corner lifted up to let Mo know that his gaze didn’t go unnoticed. Mo’s ears burned.
“You heard me,” He Tian murmured.
Guan Shan eyed him before scoffing and looking away. His fingers plucked at the strings again, sending a soft, hesitant melody into the air. He heard He Tian shift, and stiffened as the man settled next to him. Even a foot away, He Tian radiated heat, and the hair on Guan Shan’s arms stood to attention.
“Why are you here, anyway?” he asked, trying to shake off the weight of He Tian’s attention. There was no answer, but he didn’t expect there to be. “Your flat is a lot bigger than mine. You’re going to have to sleep on the floor here.”
“That’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“Why not?” Guan Shan snapped. His fingers paused and his gaze met He Tian’s. The look on He Tian’s face caught him off guard, and his heart leapt.
He Tian’s lips tilted in a sad smile. His dark eyes traced the guitar and Mo’s hands, then the walls, and lingered on the Christmas tree in the corner. It was a pitiful little thing, but it had been decorated with dulled Christmas lights and plenty of bulbs to make it look like it was ready to burst. He Tian’s smile tugged at his lips, and Mo’s heart twisted.
“It’s warmer in your home,” He Tian murmured.
Mo didn’t know how to reply to that. So instead, he scooted from the couch and stood, carefully packing his new guitar away in the black case it’d come with and pushing it back under the tree.
“I’m going to bed,” Guan Shan announced. He moved towards the narrow hallway that lead to his room, not looking to see if He Tian followed.
Halfway down the dark hallway, a hand grabbed his arm.
All Mo’s breath left him as he was shoved against the wall, his head thudding lightly. He Tian’s eyes burned in the dark as he pressed close, crowding Guan Shan against the wall. His leg slid between Guan Shan’s.
“Wha–”
He Tian shot forward, and Guan Shan gave an oomf as their mouths collided. Wine and cigarettes and candy swirled onto Guan Shan’s tongue as He Tian’s lips shifted against his. Guan Shan’s hands raised to push He Tian off, but of their own volition, his fingers curled in the front of his hideously itchy sweater instead. He Tian kissed insistently, determinedly, just like Guan Shan would expect. He smelled of ash and berries and a subtle cologne that now overwhelmed Guan Shan in a wave. Guan Shan drowned in it, his mouth fierce and receptive against He Tian’s onslaught.
Then it was over.
Guan Shan gasped for breath as He Tian released his hips, leaving hot brands where he’d gripped. Before Guan Shan could yell or curse, He Tian pointed up. Guan Shan followed his gaze to see a small, innocent bundle of mistletoe hanging above them that Guan Shan was sure hadn’t been there that morning. His gaze dropped to He Tian. He Tian smiled, his eyes warm and full, the emptiness chased away.
“Happy Christmas, Guan Shan.”