Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sehun sinks lower into the couch, up to his nose in blankets. Two feet away, Baekhyun and Chanyeol squabble over movies to watch. It’s a pointless quarrel between the both of them, but at this point, it’s all part of the weekly ritual. Sehun sighs; he knows they’re going to cave at the last second and watch whatever the other wants to anyway.

Baekhyun’s left his laptop on the coffee table, and Sehun pulls it over, seeing some notifications pop up at the top left tab. He clicks on it, reading the few comments that come in real-time.

“cute episode!! he always makes food look so yummy…”

“please dress warmly baekhyunee ♡ ”

“i started watching your channel exactly a year ago! happy anniversary to us ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡”

“is that chanyeol at 5:06 what is he doing”

“excited for your christmas series! are you doing a livestream again this year?”

Sehun glances up in time to see Baekhyun flip a coin, barely missing Chanyeol’s face. He melts even deeper into the cushions, certain he’ll be part of the couch before the movie comes on. He scrolls up to Baekhyun’s most recent video, one he’s already watched, and clicks the play button.

Baekhyun’s youtube channel included the wildest range of topics, and each week it could be anything from eating broadcasts, to ASMR videos, to gaming streams, song covers or beauty tips, or whatever he’s gotten his hands on at the moment. It’s an art, his interests fluctuating madly while the videos still maintained a touch that was uniquely his.

“Aww, are you a fan, Sehun?” Baekhyun says, right into Sehun’s ear. Too busy watching Baekhyun eat the world’s stringiest cheese-stick, he jumps and nearly drops the laptop.

“Would you like an autograph?” Baekhyun asks, and swear-to-god, brandishes a marker from the inside of his sleeve and promptly signs Sehun’s forehead.

Sehun reels back, too confused by the entire scenario to respond. Baekhyun’s phone rings, Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony blasting at full volume, and he drops the marker on the table, damage done. Baekhyun smiles at him, brightly, like he's done Sehun a great favour instead of vandalizing one of Sehun's main selling points.

“Hold on, I have to take this. Fansign in five minutes.” He holds up a finger, climbing back over the couch to retrieve his phone.

Chanyeol tilts his head, looking at Sehun’s forehead. “You’re going to have to get that tattooed now, if you’re a real fan,” He says.

“Just put on your movie,” Sehun grumbles, getting up and going to the bathroom to scrub off what he can.

When he emerges, signature only half-erased and his forehead raw, Chanyeol is kneeling by the tv with the remote in one hand. Baekhyun is nowhere to be found. Sehun peeks into the bedroom, and sees him hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously onto a piece of paper, phone clipped between his ear and shoulder.

“I’ll call him,” Baekhyun is saying, “but you can’t be angry at snow, Kyungsoo. It’s snow. It’s not a disaster, I have a car, don’t I?”

Sehun backs out of the room to give him some privacy, and goes back to the couch, swapping a confused look with Chanyeol. On the table, Baekhyun’s cheese-stick video loops onto the next on the playlist.

Even though Baekhyun is gone and out of the fight, Chanyeol doesn’t put on his movie. He sits patiently by the coffee table, legs crossed beneath him.

A few minutes later, Baekhyun steps out, wearing Sehun’s scarf around his neck as if it’s his own. Knowing Baekhyun, he might believe it is.  He's dressed to go out, even though it's nearly eleven.

“Sorry,” He says, “I have to go pick up some ingredients. Our delivery truck is snowed-in and the closest supermarket with everything is an hour away.” He pauses to look regretfully at them both, wearing Sehun’s scarf and what appears to be Chanyeol’s old leather jacket.

“We’ll come with,” Chanyeol says immediately. “Won’t we, Sehunnie? It can be an impromptu year-end road-trip.”

“Sure,” Sehun says, automatically uncurling his legs from beneath him and sitting up.

“It’s a grocery run, not exactly a road trip,” Baekhyun points out.

“Sounds like fun,” Chanyeol says. “Give me a minute to put some proper pants on.”

Chanyeol ambles off to get dressed, and Sehun steals a spare scarf from the hallway closet. He’s not sure whose it is, buried under boxes of board games and bicycle pumps for nonexistent bicycles. There’s a red coat in there too, and Sehun thinks it might be Yixing’s.

They head out into the freshly falling snow, leaving footprints all the way to the outdoor lot where Chanyeol’s car is parked.

What a start to a new month, Sehun thinks, as he helps to scrape frost off the windscreen, cold biting through his clothes as the night wind rushes past his ears, unforgiving.

Here we go again.

❄

Trapped in the backseat of the car, Sehun is stuck listening to Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s neverending playlist of songs, their singing keeping all three of them awake for the seventy-minute drive. Sehun says 'stuck', but honestly, he doesn’t mind. They sing well even when they’re not trying, and it’s a soothing drive. The road is mostly highway, and Baekhyun knows his way enough that there’s no need for a GPS voiceover.

Sehun closes his eyes halfway through the drive, letting the sound of their voices wash over him. He doesn't fall asleep, and is awake to hear Chanyeol turning around, the seat creaking minutely, and the volume of the music dims. They keep singing though, soft, so Sehun doesn't open his eyes to correct them.

They pull into the brightly-lit parking lot past midnight, shielding their eyes against the blinding signboard that’s missing two letters. A Christmas elf dozing by the entrance startles awake when Chanyeol drops some coins into his bucket while retrieving a shopping cart.

Baekhyun has a long list of ingredients to buy, and he tackles it in no order whatsoever. They're unused to this store, being as far out as it is, but it's larger than most stores in the city, and Sehun has no doubt it'll carry everything Kyungsoo needs. Chanyeol and the shopping cart vanish about fifteen minutes into the store, and Sehun has to make use of someone’s abandoned basket from aisle nine.

Every now and then, Baekhyun runs into two similar items to choose from, and crouches down over them to send Kyungsoo an SOS text. Cherries of two different colours, or condensed milk with a 1% difference in fat content. A bag of chips also finds its way into the basket, but Sehun doubts he’s going to be seeing it on any of Kyungsoo’s confectionaries any time soon.

The basket grows heavier, and when Baekhyun has his back turned, Sehun sneaks in a bag of reindeer-shaped chocolates.

Chanyeol’s made a friend in the electronics section by the time they’re done, and is exchanging contact details with them over an empty shopping trolley. He has the gall to look astonished that they’ve finished shopping without him, and trails behind meekly, waving goodbye to his new friend.

The cashier stores everything into a small cardboard box as they check out, and Baekhyun carries it ever-so-carefully out of the store, cheek pressed against the fraying tape of the reused box.

Chanyeol finally makes use of himself depositing the box into the backseat, following after it so that Sehun sits at the front this time. Baekhyun starts the engine, humming with a little off-key eagerness.

Baekhyun’s happy, Sehun knows. People always think that the café is Kyungsoo’s treasure, but it’s really both of theirs, friends who’d stuck together since high school and somehow made it through the funnel of young adulthood together, doing something they both loved.

Sehun’s happy for them. Proud of them too, if he has any right to be.

The car is peaceful for a moment, as Baekhyun pulls out of the strip of shops and back onto the highway. Darkness whips by outside the window. There's something about a nearly-deserted highway after dark that feels dangerous, powerful.

"The night sky is really nice from out here,” Baekhyun comments.

Sehun tilts his face skyward, seeing the twinkling of stars above that exist nowhere in the city. Sometimes, from the roof of his office, he mistakes planes for stars and gets excited about them for no reason.

Chanyeol shuffles forward from the backseat. “Do you have a few minutes to spare? Take a left here, I want to show you guys something.” Chanyeol gestures to the upcoming fork in the road, and Baekhyun flicks the turn signal without question.

Chanyeol’s detour takes less than ten minutes off the main road, down a sharp corner that plunges them into near darkness.  There are trees on either side of the narrow dirt road, blocking out any moonlight, and Baekhyun drives carefully, Chanyeol leaning in between them to give directions. Another five minutes pass, and they finally emerge from the shade of the trees.

At once, the sky cracks into light.

“Whoa,” Baekhyun breathes, leaning forward in his seat. It's a dead-end road, and he pulls up without instruction. The fence that cuts the road off leads into a vast, grassy meadow, and every inch of sky is glittering. There are dark blues and purples with milky streaks of pastel, and every inch of the view is speckled with more stars than Sehun has ever seen.

Baekhyun winds down the window, the air inside going freezing at once.

From the backseat, the only person who isn't stunned speechless, says "I still have some of my astronomy stuff back here. Do we have time to set things up for a quick look?"

“Let’s do it!” Baekhyun says, already closing the window so he can throw open the door. “Kyungsoo only needs these tomorrow morning, we just wanted to be sure we had them.”

Both their doors slam shut in unison. Sehun zips his coat up to his chin, hugging his coat closer around himself. Outside, Baekhyun laughs at something Chanyeol says, hanging over the wooden fence like a rug put out to dry, while Chanyeol sets his telescope up.

It looks exactly like a still from a movie, their two figures silhouetted against the magnificent night sky. Sehun takes several photos, sending one off to Kyungsoo, and after some hesitation, Yixing. Neither of them respond, which is about as much as can be expected. It's still early for Yixing, and too late for Kyungsoo.

Sehun holds on to the phone anyway, drawing his knees to his chest.

Finally, it’s quiet enough inside the car to be lonely, and he climbs out of the car to join them. It’s just as cold as Sehun expected, and he burrows into his coat, trying to hide what he can of his face.

Chanyeol’s moved his telescope back a few feet, close enough that he can lean back against the car. Every once in awhile, he peers through the eyepiece and makes a satisfied noise, then continues to tinker away.

After a few minutes, Baekhyun gives up kicking rocks and climbs onto the hood of the car, still warmed by the engine.

The telescope stands unoccupied, Chanyeol fiddling with something in the booth, so Sehun seizes the opportunity to peer through it. It’s focused on a large cluster of stars painted with faint, blurry nebulae, and Sehun steps back, trying to find the same spot with his eyes. Before he manages to, Chanyeol returns and steers him aside.

Baekhyun’s boot pokes the side of Sehun’s leg, playful, but he isn’t looking at Sehun. He’s looking at the sight above him, quieter than Sehun’s seen in awhile. He catches Sehun watching, and pats the empty space next to him.

“When I used to live with my grandmother as a kid, there was this big field around the corner of the house. On nights that I couldn’t sleep, she’d carry me out there and we’d look at the stars. I haven’t seen a sky like this for a really long time,” He offers thoughtfully. “I don’t think she knew much about stars, but she had all these stories for me. The way she told them, it was almost as if they were true.”

“They were real to her,” Sehun says.

Baekhyun smiles at him. “They were real to me, too.”

“My only childhood memories of fields are the animals I found in them,” Chanyeol says, looking up from his telescope. “Did I ever mention the one time I found a snake? It was only a baby, but I looked it up online and there are fifteen species of—”

Chanyeol is cut off by a rude kick to his thigh.

“Don’t ruin it, Park Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t want to remember some of my fondest childhood memories as all the times I could have been bitten by a baby snake.”

“Big snakes, too,” Sehun adds unhelpfully, earning another kick.

“Tell me a nice story,” Baekhyun sighs, leaning back against the windshield. He looks cozy and comfortable in Chanyeol’s jacket, the glitter of the stars reflecting in the glass behind him, creating an ethereal, dreamy glow off the planes of his skin. Chanyeol lies down beside him, and Sehun suddenly wishes he could paint.

Chanyeol stretches out, fingers brushing the roof of the car, oblivious to the sudden breathlessness in Sehun’s throat.

“Can I talk about bunnies? I once found a bunny in my mailbox, chewing on some free pizza coupons. It was two whole feet off the ground, and we never found out if it climbed in somehow or someone put it there. My mom let me keep it, and we named it pepperoni.”

“What kind of story is this,” Baekhyun complains. “Now I’m just confused.”

Chanyeol laughs, rattling the car with his joy.

“Sehun, come lie down with us. The hood’s already dented, there’s no use trying to preserve it,” Chanyeol says. “You’re not even facing the stars anymore, what are you looking at?”

“Tell us a story,” Baekhyun says, tugging on Sehun’s wrist.

Sehun thinks back through the years of his life, trying to conjure some detail that he hasn’t yet shared with them. They end up trading tales in turn, all three of them, stars forgotten. The stories aren’t very important ones, but however small, it’s nice to know they can learn something new about each other, still.

They talk until Baekhyun dozes off against the windshield, having recently worked late for many nights. Chanyeol returns to his telescope, dragging Sehun over to point out the constellations.

The night air fills Sehun’s lungs with stars. Sometimes, when they’re like this, it reminds Sehun of the early days after they first met. And sometimes, when they’re like this, Sehun misses those days more than anything.

“Are you listening?” Chanyeol says. “This part is really interesting, I can’t believe you’re tuning me out.”

“I’m listening,” Sehun insists. “But tell me again, it was so interesting I need to hear it once more.”

Chanyeol punches Sehun in the shoulder.

Later, it’s Chanyeol who drives home. Only the radio plays softly this time, the crooning saxophone of a vintage Christmas track filling the silence.

Sehun leans back and watches the sky until the stars turn into city lights.

❄

“A little more to the left,” Baekhyun says. Sehun inches to the left, holding the garland up again. His feet are chilly even through his thick socks, and he curls his toes, looking back over his shoulder at Baekhyun.

“Perfect.” Baekhyun says, and tosses the tape at Sehun.

“I’m almost done with the tree,” Kyungsoo says, coming over to stand beside Baekhyun.

With the customers gone for the day, most of the overhead lighting is switched off. The café is dimly lit, occasionally illuminated by the reflection of passing cars.

Kyungsoo looks up at the strings of pine that Sehun has looped above the front counter, the green punctuated by golden ornaments and specks of red.

“Is that mistletoe?” He asks, squinting uncertainly.

Sehun stifles a yawn, and without waiting for Baekhyun’s input, tapes the new garland to the ceiling. The silver baubles catch the change of a stoplight outside the store, shimmering faintly. In the distance, the heater rattles once before falling silent.

Crouching down for Baekhyun’s next ornament, Sehun says to Kyungsoo, “You know, when I agreed to come in to grab a late dinner, I didn’t think I’d stay until midnight, standing on your cake display and hanging mistletoe wreaths over the cashier.”

“I’m going to kiss everyone who comes into the store through the month of December,” Baekhyun says cheerfully. “It’s my good deed for the year.”

“I’ll end you,” Kyungsoo says, going back to the tree. It looks finished save one thing, and Sehun resists the urge to ask if he needs help with putting the star at the top.

“Thanks for helping out, Sehunnie,” Baekhyun says, handing Sehun another sprig of mistletoe. Sehun slides off the counter and takes a few steps backwards to look up at his work. He’s gotten most of the length above the counter, and it’s festive enough that the customers will be happy.

Along with the tree Kyungsoo is setting up and the frosted snowflakes they’d painted to the glass earlier, the café looks appropriately decked for the season.

Beckoning Baekhyun over, he sticks the mistletoe above Baekhyun’s right ear instead.

“I’m done,” Kyungsoo calls from the tree, pulling the ladder away so they can look at it in its full glory. It isn’t a large tree, but it’s pretty. And when Kyungsoo crouches down by the light switch to turn it on, the dark store lights up in little splashes of colour, highlighting the glossy marble counter and lacquered cupboards.

Baekhyun abandons his box of ornaments to watch, and presses his cheek against Sehun’s shoulder, arms looping around Sehun’s waist from behind. He yawns, and Sehun can feel the warm breath against the back of his neck.

Kyungsoo packs away the boxes, paying them no attention. Perhaps Sehun should help, but he can’t bring himself to move.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says. The material of his hoodie is soft against Sehun’s bare skin, his rolled-up sleeves. “Happy December, Sehun.”

❄

When Sehun wakes up, his bedroom is fully flooded with sunlight and it takes an actual minute for Sehun to remember what year it is. He feels like he’s been sleeping forever, and when he rolls over and checks his phone, he finds that it’s past noon.

There’s a string of messages from Baekhyun, beginning with “did you get home safely, Sehunnie?” to “why won’t you reply me don’t you love me anymore” and a whole other spiel of texts that descend into a monologue of madness.

The last text is sent about three in the morning, long after Sehun’s fallen asleep, and Sehun shakes his head. He sends Baekhyun a snoring bear gif in response and closes out of the message.

Junmyeon’s texted him too, and it reads “Wanted to catch up with you but you were sleeping like a baby, let me know if you’ll be home Thursday night!” Sehun swipes over the time of the text, only about an hour ago, and flops back onto his pillow.

It seems like he’s been narrowly missing Junmyeon a lot these days. Sometimes the dishes will still be drying on the rack, sometimes the folded laundry is warm on Sehun’s bed. They live together, but it rarely feels like it anymore.

He picks up his phone again, opening up Junmyeon’s message.

“I’m in on Thursday!” Sehun types in reply. “Have dinner with me?”

Junmyeon’s answer is immediate.

“Yes!”

Sehun smiles and kicks his blankets off. He’s still grinning when he leaves the apartment twenty minutes later.

❄

The coffee shop is in top-form when Sehun arrives, every window seat occupied, and all the Christmas decorations they’d put up last night glittering under the afternoon sun. A few customers are taking photos of the poster Kyungsoo’s taped onto the glass by the front door. Sehun holds the door open for them as they leave.

“You’re here early,” Kyungsoo says, sweeping a cursory glance over at Sehun as he leans over the counter. “I let someone take your table.”

Sehun had noticed. He’s also noticed that Kyungsoo is standing behind the cash register, which he almost never does any more. Considering Baekhyun can talk a brick into buying a scone, it’s rare that anyone else ever does the job.

“Didn’t Baekhyun come in today?”

“He was here this morning, but he went back to bed. He says Chanyeol made a breakthrough in the game last night,” Kyungsoo says.

“So… they spent the entire night running around the city? In this weather?” Sehun asks. They’d had a long autumn of chasing bandits and hunting for treasures along the river, as Chanyeol’s virtual reality game approached playable completion. Sehun had joined them some of those nights, fishing pixelated swords from the ocean and capturing enemies.

In the middle of winter, it was far more likely that the only thing they’d catch was a cold.

Kyungsoo’s lips form a tight line. “I sure hope not. I need Baekhyun this week.” He plucks the card from Sehun’s open wallet and swipes it across the reader.

“You didn’t even wait for my order,” Sehun protests.

“You always order the same thing as soon as it hits December,” Kyungsoo says. “Now please wait for your drink to the left.”

Sehun moves aside, sulking, looking up at the list of Christmas specials. Maybe he’ll get a gingerbread frappuccino the next time, just to be contrary. The front door swings shut, and Sehun glances over, not having heard anyone enter or leave. There’s a man in a bright red scarf waiting to cross the street, and a strange sense of familiarity compels Sehun to head out the door after him.

The light turns green, the man vanishing into the crowd briefly, a sea of heads and puffy jackets. Sehun finds him again on the other side of the road, red scarf vibrant, and watches as he opens the passenger’s door of a waiting car.

It’s Kim Jongdae.

“What on earth,” Sehun breathes.

Jongdae’s head turns towards Sehun, as if called. For a split second, their eyes meet. Jongdae’s expression doesn’t change, but he brings a finger to his lips. The moment passes, and he vanishes into the vehicle. It drives off, leaving Sehun feeling unsettled and unsure, as if perhaps he’d imagined the entire encounter.

❄

Sehun returns to the coffee shop to find his drink waiting for him at the counter. The line is growing steadily by the minute, and even with the help of the four other day staff, Kyungsoo has his hands full.

“Take these to Chanyeol and Baekhyun, I owe them drinks.” Kyungsoo says, waving Sehun over to pass him another two drinks, snug in a tray.

“But I was going to sit here awhile,” Sehun says, looking towards his table again. It’s still taken. “Kyungsoo, I thought I saw—”

“Later,” Kyungsoo says, and he’s already gone back to the waiting queue.

Sehun collects the three drinks and sits temporarily at one of the empty tables by the door. He pulls out his phone and turns the brightness down, quickly typing out a name into the search bar.

“Kim Jongdae says winter album is in the works, release date to be announced”

“Heartwarming teaser photos from Kim Jongdae’s winter album [attachment]”

“Kim Jongdae uploads boyfriend-like selcas taken at Beijing International Airport”

Sehun scrolls down the list, unable to find anything about his current whereabouts. He looks out the glass at the street again, where Jongdae had been standing mere minutes ago.

“Your drinks are getting cold,” Kyungsoo says, and Sehun flinches, quickly sliding his thumb over his phone to lock the screen.

“Aren’t you going?” Kyungsoo asks. “There are a couple of customers here who could gladly do with your seat.”

“I’m sure if I don’t leave soon enough, you’ll find another way to make me,” Sehun says, slipping his phone into his pocket and standing. Kyungsoo’s brought him a little thermal bag, and carefully places the drinks inside it.

“Thanks, Sehun,” Kyungsoo says. “Tell Baekhyun I’m expecting him in tonight, or I won’t make any chocolate chip muffins this week.”

Sehun’s horrified expression is enough to make Kyungsoo laugh. He gives Sehun a gentle shove towards the door, and Sehun heads out into the snow, with questions in his pocket and hope brewing in his heart.

❄

Chanyeol is hunkered under five blankets in the living room, and the only reason Sehun knows he’s there is because of the sound of frantic typing coming from under the pile.

“Good afternoon,” Sehun says, letting the door fall shut behind him. The apartment is warm and toasty, unlike Chanyeol’s blanket den would suggest. “If you’re going to put your spare keys in a flowerpot, I suggest that there are actually flowers in the pot.”

“Have they withered away?” Chanyeol asks. “I told Baekhyun to water them.”

"I don't think Baekhyun is interested in any plant that isn't mistletoe right now," Sehun says dryly.

The typing pauses for the briefest moment, as if considering if this information is cause for concern, but resumes again almost immediately.

“I brought drinks,” Sehun says, placing a cup outside the blanket den like an offering. A hand reaches out to claim it with a muffled thanks.

“Where’s Baekhyun?”

“Oasis,” Chanyeol says, and Sehun stares.

“I was just there.”

Chanyeol sticks his head out from the den, sipping on the straw. “And I’m grateful.”

Sehun sighs and slumps onto the sofa, careful not to jostle Chanyeol’s blankets. He takes Baekhyun’s drink and scrunches his nose up at the strong taste of bitter coffee, plied with Kyungsoo’s hopes that Baekhyun will show up at the coffee shop buzzing with energy.

He puts the cup back on the table and sinks into the pillows. There’s a magazine hanging on the back of the sofa with Kim Jongdae’s face on it, and Sehun flips it open to an eight-page editorial shoot.

“Whose is this?” He asks, sticking the magazine into the den when Chanyeol makes a confused noise.

“I think we have a subscription,” Chanyeol says. “Hang on, Sehun, I’m working on something. I’ll talk to you in three hours.”

“I’ll wait,” Sehun says, flopping back down. He goes through Jongdae’s photographs, and finds a few of them that have been cut out with a blunt pair of scissors, rough around the edges. He checks both sides of the page and rereads the captions several times, trying to figure out why the photographs had been taken, but finds nothing. Eventually, he gives up and leaves it open on the table, to ask Chanyeol about later.

There’s something pointy digging into his back, and he retrieves a half-knitted scarf from the crevices of the couch, knitting needles still intact. He ends up watching instructional videos online and working on the rest of the scarf. Whatever plans they had for it, it’s now an orangey-pink thing with four different knit patterns.

Under the blanket pile, Chanyeol types on, and the apartment, for the first time in a long time, is peaceful. They end up sitting together, not saying a word, until Sehun remembers he has to leave for a shoot and lets himself out just as quietly as he came.

❄

The shoot runs for two days, and it’s just after lunch on the second afternoon that Sehun runs into an old friend. Kim Jongin’s smile is a whole thousand watts, and he slides into the chair beside Sehun, smooth as fine wine. Being from the same agency, they’d done a handful of shoots together back in the day, before Jongin’s career had skyrocketed him into fame.

Today, they’re doing a Santa’s laboratory concept for a shoe ad, if Santa’s elves wore crop tops and unbuttoned shirts in the workshop. Jongin occasionally tickles the back of Sehun’s neck with a string of tinsel, and the moment the photographer calls for an intermission, Sehun strings it around Jongin’s neck like a boa constrictor.

“December really is the month for nostalgia, isn’t it?” Jongin says with a grin, giving Sehun a one-armed hug. “I just ran into Jongdae the other day, I didn’t even know he was back. Have you guys met up yet?”

Sehun feels like he’s been doused in cold water.

“It’s… complicated,” he says, unable to explain.

Jongin’s face falls. He wrings the antlers of the reindeer plush he’s been playing with, expression guilty. Sehun rescues the animal and gives it a sympathetic pat on the head.

“It’s not bad, it’s just,” Sehun flaps a hand, “I don’t know. I saw him at the café yesterday.”

“The café where Kyungsoo works?” Jongin asks. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Sehun laughs, warm despite everything. It’s been years since they’d exchanged their stories, fresh-faced newcomers to the industry, huddled together and talking quietly in between sets. After all this time, Jongin hasn’t forgotten a thing.

Sehun tilts his head back so he can stare at the ceiling. The fairy lights strung across the ceiling blink out of rhythm, and the alarm signaling the end of their break goes off in the distance. He slides out of the chair and lets his clothes be fixed.

Jongin reaches over to touch his wrist, and gives Sehun a small smile when he looks over. “He’ll come back.”

Sehun squeezes Jongin’s hand in thanks, and for the rest of the shoot, they don’t get the chance to speak again.

❄

“Imagine you’re on a train,” Baekhyun says, “and the passengers keep getting on and off, but they’re the same few people, the same faces. The train stops, and the girl sitting next to you gets off, only for someone who looks exactly like her to take her place.”

“What are you talking about now?” Sehun adds hot water into the pot of tea he’s brewing, realizing too late that the label has fallen into the water. “I don’t need your nine a.m. horror story.”

“Chanyeol made a new level in the game. Their faces don’t work properly, and I had this really weird dream,” Baekhyun says with a sigh. “Can you come over? I’m having trouble syncing the audio, my head is starting to hurt.”

“Are you still editing?” Sehun asks, checking the day on his phone’s lock screen. Baekhyun’s videos are released every Wednesday and Sunday, and the day before those were usually spent painstakingly putting the ten-minute videos together.

“Don’t shame me, Sehun. I know I should have finished it yesterday. Are you coming over?”

“I’ll think about it,” Sehun says, which means yes. Baekhyun hums and hangs up.

Sehun sits at the table holding his freshly made tea for five more minutes. There’s a new letter from the landlord propped up against a tin of gingerbread cookies, a letter that Junmyeon’s already opened and left out for Sehun.

Sehun reads it in silence, before downing the mug and heading out into the cold.

❄

Their designated table is at the far corner of the coffee shop, right beside the closet where they store their extra beans. It’s been “their” table for a long time now, and despite all of Kyungsoo’s complaints, he does let Baekhyun set camp at the little round table whenever he has editing to do. Even when Baekhyun’s working at the cashier, Sehun automatically goes to that same table, although the lamp is a little too low-hanging for his height.

“Help me take the signboard out,” Kyungsoo says, patting Sehun’s shoulder when he peeks into the kitchen to say hi. Kyungsoo’s up to his elbows in dough, and Sehun wonders if he’ll be staying long enough to taste the finished product. Whatever it is, he’s sure it’ll be good.

He obediently sets Kyungsoo’s chalkboard easel outside the store, noting that someone has rewritten the words in much nicer, fancier cursive. He steps back to make sure it’s well within sight of the cashier, and returns to the shop to plop himself down beside Baekhyun.

“How many minutes have you got?” He asks, making Baekhyun jump.

Baekhyun looks up, his eyes taking a moment to focus on Sehun. He’s wearing his pink kitty headphones, the one some fans had sent him as a birthday gift.

“I’m done with the video, but the audio is giving me a headache,” Baekhyun whines, stealing a sip from Sehun’s iced chocolate. He removes his headphones and places it over Sehun’s ears, shuffling out of the way for Sehun to take over.

Today’s is a video taken in the very kitchen Sehun just emerged from, rare footage of Kyungsoo making his chocolate chip muffins while Baekhyun films and narrates the process. Kyungsoo’s appeared in the videos only a handful of times over the years, and while he doesn’t play to the camera, he’s a crowd favourite all the same. Anyone watching could usually tell how happy Kyungsoo was around food, whether it was a cooking or eating broadcast, and Kyungsoo’s happiness was infectious even through the screen.

“God, I really want a muffin,” Sehun says, after making it through the twelve-minute video and hitting pause. The audio is pretty close, but Sehun can already tell where it isn’t perfect. Being friends with the people he is, Sehun’s picked up a lot of odd talents over the years.

“Go find out what Kyungsoo is making and I’ll fix this for you,” Sehun bargains, already hitting the replay button. Baekhyun laughs and maneuvers out of his seat, taking Sehun’s drink with him.

Sehun manages to tune out the rest of the coffee shop, ignoring the people coming and going, the happy chatter of customers and the constant chime of the bell. When he finally looks up, half-an-hour has gone by, and he finds Baekhyun has been roped behind the counter again, helping out.

His hands reach for his drink and clasp around thin air before he remembers that Baekhyun had stolen his drink. He looks around the table, peers into Baekhyun’s drained mug. Darjeeling, just like the cup Sehun drank at home.

Sehun tips the headphones back on and continues working.

❄

Junmyeon’s bedroom door is wide open when Sehun gets home on Thursday evening. It’s impossible to not notice that everything is nearly gone, the books packed away and the mess cleaned up, only a few personal belongings left in the once well lived-in bedroom.

Light spills out from beneath the crack of the bathroom door, and the shower is running. Sehun steps into the room and sits at Junmyeon’s desk. There’s a calendar, half filled in but left behind in September. Sehun turns the pages to the proper month and writes, ‘dinner with Sehun’ and draws a little heart.

Junmyeon is singing in the shower. His clear voice carries over the sound of the water, and Sehun smiles, getting up from the desk. He lingers at the doorway, just to listen a bit longer, before heading to his own bedroom to change.

There’s a box on his bed, small. A jewelry case. He flicks it open.

It’s Junmyeon’s old cufflinks, the pair he bought after his first promotion. Sehun had only just met him then, but hadn’t held back from offering his then-limited fashion opinions. They’d bought this pair in the end, and Junmyeon hadn’t even a proper suit to go with them.

The suit had come with the next paycheck.

Sehun snaps the box close again, quickly changing into something more comfortable. He returns to hear Junmyeon in the kitchen, continuing his shower setlist.

There’s a couple of packing boxes on the dining table, along with some postcards. Sehun moves everything aside. He hasn’t sat at the table for what feels like a really long time.

“Sehun? Is that you?” Junmyeon calls over the sound of sizzling. “Don’t we have salt in this house?”

“I don’t know,” Sehun admits. “I haven’t cooked in awhile. Kyungsoo always gives me leftovers if I go by the café at night.”

“Yes, but what do you eat during the day?” Junmyeon asks, scandalized.

He serves the pasta with improvised chili flakes, not quite a substitute, but it still tastes good, and Sehun says so.

“There’s no need for flattery, I have tastebuds too, you know,” Junmyeon says. He’s suppressing a smile, but his lips are twitching.

Sehun snorts. “It tastes good. Different from how Kyungsoo makes it, but good.”

“He’s busy with the café, isn’t he? Tell him I’d love to buy a box of brownies if he’s making any for Christmas.”

“I think he will be,” Sehun says. “He has Baekhyun working eight days a week, while he probably works nine. They’re pretty excited.”

There’s something comfortable about sitting around with Junmyeon at the table, even though they haven’t done it in awhile. Sehun hadn’t realized how worried he’d been that things might have changed between them, but Junmyeon still recycled the same five jokes and lounged at the table as though there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“What about you, though, hyung? Your big day is coming up too.”

Junmyeon’s smile is all teeth. “It’s really weird, you’d think it’s impossible to forget, but sometimes I’m just doing work at the office and it hits me out of nowhere, you know? That I’m getting married in a month. And it makes me happy all over again.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Sehun teases.

Junmyeon shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”

Sehun laughs. He doesn’t, but it’s nice to think that one day he will.

“You’re going to wear my cufflinks to the wedding, right?” Junmyeon says, big smile plastered to his face. He’s probably already imagining his wedding speech and all the tears he’ll cry into his wife’s veil.

“You mean my cufflinks,” Sehun says, reaching out to fold the jewelry box into his palm.

Junmyeon nods, serious, agreeing.

A couple of hours later, Sehun’s lying in bed, scrolling on his phone when there’s a knock on the door.

Junmyeon sticks his head in, wearing the old pale-pink pajamas that he’d left hanging in the closet. “I just washed my sheets, but I’m too lazy to fit them right now. Are you too old to share a bed with your favourite hyung?”

“My favourite hyung has been Kyungsoo for a long time,” Sehun informs Junmyeon. He grins at Junmyeon’s wronged expression and kicks the blanket aside, making room for Junmyeon to join him anyway. “But there might be space for my second-favourite hyung.”

“Yule sleep like a log,” Junmyeon promises, as he climbs in beside Sehun and winds himself up in the sheets. Sehun nearly shoves him off the bed.

Sleep comes easily, and when Sehun wakes up, still tangled warmly around a sleeping Junmyeon, the world is covered in a soft blanket of white snow.

❄

He has a short interview in the afternoon, and Junmyeon drops him off as close as he can get to the right area. Sehun generally doesn’t stray too far from his usual haunts, and it’s a nice change to be at the city center, surrounded by towering buildings and sleek cars.

Despite sleeping in, it turns out that he has a few hours to kill before the interview. He spends some time taking photos of the fresh snow-covered Christmas tree at the very heart of the district, nearly half as tall as the building beside it.

He walks around the stores for almost an hour, looking at gifts without getting anything. None of them are big on presents anymore, choosing instead to buy meals or little gifts regardless of the season. He does make a mental note to pick up some gifts for his family, wondering if he can make a trip back home for a few days before the year is up.

There’s time for a quick lunch, and Sehun decides he’ll eat instead of risk getting hungry during the interview. He’s not craving anything fancy, so he settles for a coffee and sandwich bar. It’s fairly crowded, and Sehun joins the line to the counter.

Soon enough it’s his turn to order, and Sehun digs into his coat pocket for his wallet— and finds it empty. The grin slips off his face, and Sehun hurriedly gestures for the man behind him in line to go ahead, not wanting to hold up the queue. He steps aside while he continues searching, although it soon becomes apparent that the wallet isn’t anywhere to be found.

“Everything okay?” The man says, turning back to Sehun after he’s finished placing his own order.

“I think I forgot my wallet,” Sehun says wryly. “Sorry,” he says to the cashier. “I’ll just—”

“Go ahead and order,” The man says, gesturing towards the menu.

Sehun flusters, looking at the man in confusion.

“What were you going to get? My treat. There’s no reason to go hungry.”

Once the order is made, the man waves off all of his thanks and apologies. “It happens, right? Everyone has these days. I’m glad to be able to help.”

He takes his coffee and pats Sehun on the shoulder. Even his palm is warm. “Don’t worry about it. Have a great day.”

Sehun bows again in gratitude, the man smiles and excuses himself to rejoin his colleagues. When the sandwich is finally ready, several minutes later, the meal leaves a satisfying weight in Sehun’s stomach that isn’t turkey ham.

“I think I left my wallet at your house,” Sehun says, once he leaves the store and Chanyeol finally picks up the phone.

“You what?”

“Left my wallet at your house the other day. Have you seen it?”

“Oh! You mean the wallet you left behind on Monday, a whole five days ago and didn’t look for until now because you never pay for anything?” Chanyeol says. “Is that the wallet you’re referring to?”

“It’s not— oh, forget it—” Sehun says, and promptly collides with a sliding glass door before it opens.

“You okay?” Chanyeol says, and Sehun can hear the trace of a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Sehun grumbles. He looks up, he can see the building he’s supposed to get to from where he’s standing. “I’ll come over after my interview.”

“We can have dinner together,” Chanyeol says brightly. “There are some very nice credit cards in this wallet I found here.”

Sehun is torn between exasperation and amusement, and hangs up before Chanyeol can hear him give in to laughter. He slips his phone back into his pocket.

“Where are you going?” A voice calls, and Sehun looks around. A car pulls to a stop beside him, window of the backseat rolled down to reveal the person who’d called out. There’s a mask covering half his features, but Sehun’s well-acquainted with those eyes.

“Hyung?”

“Get into the car, Sehun,” Kim Jongdae says. “Let’s talk.”

❄

“How long were you following me for? Don’t be creepy,” Sehun says, unwinding his scarf in the heat of Jongdae’s car.

“I just finished a recording,” Jongdae says. “Where are you going? I’ll give you a ride.”

Sehun leans over to the front seat to give Jongdae’s manager the address, even though it’s only a few streets away. “When did you get back from Beijing?”

“It’s nice to see you, Sehunnie,” Jongdae says, instead of responding. “Are you doing well? How is everyone?”

Sehun gestures for Jongdae’s phone, and takes it from his hands. “I’m meeting Chanyeol for dinner, you should join us. Did you change your number?”

He might have changed his phone too, for Jongdae only has a handful of numbers in his phonebook, and none of them are familiar to Sehun. He gives himself a missed call, and swipes against Jongdae’s new number to add it to his contacts. “Come to the apartment later. Baekhyun might be there, too.”

Jongdae hesitates, and Sehun’s stomach does a low swoop. He thinks of the magazine on Chanyeol’s table, with the cut-out squares, and wonders if that’s a good or bad thing.

“You could come to the café,” Sehun offers, grasping at straws. “We’re still there most of the time. Which you’d know, if you didn’t sneak around like you’re about to be mobbed and actually went in.”

“You can never be too careful,” Jongdae says, but his eyes are dancing. He straightens as they arrive outside the radio station.

“Don’t tell the others you’ve seen me, okay?” Jongdae says, hooking Sehun’s finger up in a pinky promise. “Once I’ve finished promotions, I’ll have the rest of the month off. I’ll come by then.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Jongdae says, smiling. “Now get out of here. You’ve got an interview to ace.”

❄

Despite Jongdae’s assurances, Sehun doesn’t stop thinking about it. After the interview is finished, he sits in the courtyard of the building, staring up at the square patch of sky.

It’s been a long time since any of them have mentioned Jongdae’s name. Over the summer, the coffee shop playlist had segued from Jongdae’s spring ballads into the latest bops, and he hasn’t been heard since. In the few hours within meeting Jongdae, doubt manages to creep up on Sehun.

The hesitation on Jongdae’s face plays back in Sehun’s mind on loop, and Sehun frowns. Years ago, of the four, the second person he had met had been Jongdae.

The first, was Baekhyun. “You look like you have tastebuds, will you please taste something for me?” He’d asked, and it had been Baekhyun’s hopeful eyes, more than the little squares of chocolate cake on the tray, that enticed Sehun to stop.

It had taken under ten minutes and some encouraging comments on Sehun’s part before Baekhyun decided he liked Sehun, very much. Without a lick of sense in him, Baekhyun had invited Sehun down the street to the apartment where he lived, overturned a pot of daisies and brandished the spare key from beneath it.

The apartment smelled like oranges and warm butter, and Sehun hesitated by the doorway, unsure why he was there at all. Someone was perched on a chair in the kitchen, eating out of a cake tin.

“That’s Jongdae, our resident cake thief,” Baekhyun said, kicking aside some shoes so Sehun had room to enter. “Jongdae, leave something for Sehun. I brought him back to taste-test.”

“Kyungsoo’s is still better,” Jongdae said, but took another mouthful of whatever he was eating anyway, before standing up to introduce himself.

Sehun tried everything there was to taste in the kitchen, and before he knew it, he was waving goodbye with a promise to return another day so he could meet the others, too.

The four of them had been inseparable from Sehun’s entrance into their story, and although he was wary at first, he soon found great happiness in being around them. The months flew by, full of laughter and flour, and in the blink of an eye, it had been a year.

In that time, Chanyeol quit his accounting job to focus on his dreams, which he first thought was music, then movie-making, before moving on to video games. Baekhyun’s cooking became steadier, surer, braver, and sometimes when Jongdae came out of his room, he’d eat quietly with a smile on his face.

Kyungsoo didn’t live with them, but he didn’t seem to live anywhere else either. If he wasn’t working at the little coffee shop on the corner of main street, he was in the kitchen with Baekhyun, talking about recipes and building permits and leaving scribbled notes all over the apartment.

And Jongdae—

Jongdae self-released a mini album, then another. Then one day he received a contract offer from a record label that all five of them looked over carefully, gathered around it on a Wednesday evening, the last slice of pizza forgotten.

Just like that, a year was gone, and by the following spring, so was Jongdae.

❄

Chanyeol’s blanket nest has only grown since the last time Sehun visited, rhythmic typing continuing from inside the pile as though it had never stopped. There’s an empty takeout box discarded close by, and Sehun wonders if that was from breakfast or dinner last night. He should be thankful that there’s one at all: Chanyeol largely subsisted off fruit rolls and parsnips during the holiday season.

“Did you come with drinks,” Baekhyun says, and Sehun startles, looking around for him. He finds Baekhyun lying on the carpet between the couch and the coffee table, probably leeching heat from beneath the floorboards.

Sehun peers down at him. “I didn’t have my wallet.”

“You never have your wallet.” Baekhyun sighs. “Come sit with me, I’m being ignored.”

But it turns out everyone in the apartment is being ignored, because Baekhyun only shuffles close to Sehun to use his knees as a pillow before going back to the game he’s playing on his phone.

Sehun digs around for the scarf from the other day, and eventually finds it under the magazine with Jongdae’s face on it.

“Hey, Baekhyun?” Sehun asks hesitantly.

“Mm?”

“Have you heard from Jongdae recently?”

The sound of typing stops, the apartment going silent.

“Not recently,” Baekhyun says, after a long pause. “I messaged him on his birthday, but we didn’t talk very long.”

“He was busy then,” Sehun says, thinking about the comeback schedule and the birthday week events he’d seen all over his feed.

“I guess,” Baekhyun says.

“Why?” Chanyeol asks. His voice is muted, and Sehun doesn’t think it’s because of the blankets.

“Nothing. I thought maybe he’d be back this Christmas. For Kyungsoo’s… you know.” Sehun thinks of Jongdae’s face, his hair longer and curlier than Sehun had seen in awhile. Remembers him standing outside the coffee shop, not wanting to enter, and the consequent swearing of Sehun to secrecy.

“You guys aren’t mad, are you?” Sehun asks.

Chanyeol emerges from his blanket nest, like a volcano erupting. He squishes Sehun to the side of the couch, accidentally stepping on Baekhyun, who’s still sprawled on the floor.

“No one is angry,” Chanyeol says. “We miss him, but we know he’s busy. Why do you look so sad, Sehunnie?”

“I don’t know,” Sehun says. “I don’t know why I thought— you guys haven’t talked about him in awhile. His new album is coming out soon.”

“That’s right,” Baekhyun says. He comes around the other side and deposits himself into Sehun’s lap, heart-shaped socks against Chanyeol’s thigh. “Chanyeol, let’s go buy albums this weekend. I wanna win the lucky draw.”

Sehun laughs softly, shaking his head.

“Our soft Sehunnie, your hyung aren’t mad,” Baekhyun says. “There’s nothing to be mad about. Now tell me, I found this very nice card in this stranger’s wallet here, what shall we have for dinner?”

Sehun snatches for his wallet, but Baekhyun rolls off his lap and scrambles away, laughing. Sehun doesn’t give chase. Instead, he folds his hand over the magazine, feeling relief all the way to his fingertips.

❄

The Christmas market is a good thirty-minute ride away, and Sehun hurries for the train station at a quarter to nine. He’d meant to leave the store earlier, but a reunion party had shown up for drinks after dinner, sweeping every last cake from Kyungsoo’s displays and finishing three cartons of milk.

While waiting at a stoplight, he catches sight of a bright yellow card. He pauses to look up: there’s a ‘To Let’ sign propped against a second-story window.

It’s only a couple of blocks from the café, and great walking distance from the station. It’s a good place, and Sehun would be lucky to have it.  But he’d be luckier to have something else.

Sehun snaps a photo, saving the contact number, and keeps walking. 

On the other side of the city, the market sits right outside the station. It’s cold but it isn’t freezing, as heat from the stores emanate onto the streets, turning snow into puddles. Every last tent is basked in fairy lights, wares proudly displayed under a warm glow.

He’s distracted by three other stalls while looking for Kyungsoo, and is almost talked by an eager salesgirl into purchasing a grow-it-yourself christmas tree. He buys three cups of warm tea instead and makes a getaway, scanning the signs above each shop for the name he’s looking for.

He finally finds it a good distance into the market, not too close to the entrance but not too far either. Neither Baekhyun nor Kyungsoo are at the counter, but Hyunsik smiles up at Sehun and pops the remainder of a lemon tart in his mouth, dusting his fingers off.

“They went to get some sandwiches, there’s a shop on the other side that’s been smelling amazing for the past few hours,” Hyunsik says.

He offers Sehun a bite from the samples tray, and Sehun trades him one of the teas, looking down at the display on the table.

Baekhyun and Kyungsoo have outdone themselves— yet they’ve done it every year since this tradition began. Each dessert looks like a work of art, and Sehun takes his phone out to send a quick video to his followers. There are squares of chocolate fudge with gold flakes, meringue puffs, fruit tarts with bright red cherries and soft-baked gingerbread cookies oozing with melted marshmallow. There are the healthier options too, sitting in little bowls, like frosted pumpkin granola and cranberry pudding.

It would have looked even better when they’d first opened hours ago, the table overflowing with treats, but seeing the nearly empty plates is satisfying in a different way.

Sehun quickly buys a box of brownies for Junmyeon, handing the money over to Hyunsik. He’s about to step into the stall when the woman in the next store peers out of her booth, huffing slightly. She’s shed her coat, despite the chill, and she asks if one of them is free to help out moving boxes.

Hyunsik waves Sehun ahead, so he leaves his things in Hyunsik’s care and follows the woman into the back of her store. She’s selling hand-crafted wooden pieces, anything from little figurines to serving platters. The wood is rich and thick, smooth to touch.

Sehun keeps his head down as much as he can, mindful of the hanging displays. The boxes aren’t particularly heavy, just difficult to maneuver without someone directing, but together they manage to slot the boxes out of sight.

“Fruitful night?” Sehun asks.

“Pretty good,” She says, grinning. Her hair is askew in that wonderful, messy way that signifies hard work and a long day, but her smile is bright.

“Not as good as your friends did next door, but it was good. I got a couple of customers while people were waiting in line for yours.” She says with a laugh. Sehun puts the last box in place, and she thanks him with a firm handshake.

Sehun steps out of the stall just in time to hear a familiar voice say, “I see Sehun’s scarf but no Sehunnie, where are you, my Sehunnie?”

Kyungsoo is standing at the back entrance, texting on his phone. In his other hand he’s holding a half-eaten panini that looks and smells delicious. Sehun sneaks a bite from behind him and pulls back, lettuce leaf clinging to the corner of his mouth. Kyungsoo spins around, eyes narrowed, but the annoyance fades once he sees that it’s Sehun.

Sehun thinks it’s funny how he was expecting someone else, how any one of them might have done the same.

Kyungsoo’s life is hard, really.

“Your desserts look amazing, hyung.” Sehun says, still chewing away into Kyungsoo’s ear. Kyungsoo pinches his cheek and gives Sehun a quick one-armed hug, shoving him towards the stall.

Inside the store, Baekhyun has Sehun’s scarf looped around his neck, a newly adopted snake pet. He’s munching on the same sandwich Kyungsoo has, sitting on one of the chairs in the corner with his legs tucked under him. Chanyeol is crouched on the floor beside Baekhyun and chatting animatedly, his Christmas hat standing completely upright in a gravity-defying feat.

Sehun joins them, pretending to steal the remainder of the sandwich for himself. Baekhyun sulks for all of a second, before pulling out a third sandwich from his coat pocket and winking cheerily.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, ignoring them.

It’s getting crowded inside the tent, but with the hardest part of the night over, Hyunsik takes off. He has his own work to focus on when he’s not helping Kyungsoo out at the store.

Chanyeol’s halfway through talking about the slideshow he’s preparing for his game launch, and having missed the first part of the conversation, it’s impossible for Sehun to catch up now. He watches Chanyeol for several minutes anyway, how his entire frame is alit as he rambles on to an attentive Baekhyun. Eventually Sehun tunes them out, turning around to help Kyungsoo clear away the empty trays.

By the time he looks around again, Chanyeol and Baekhyun have both disappeared, perhaps to get a fourth sandwich. Sehun takes command of Baekhyun’s empty chair, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

There’s a message from Junmyeon.

“Please please please Sehun buy me a box of brownies, I’ll be home tonight!”

There’s no signal in the store when Sehun tries to reply, so he steps outside, leaving Kyungsoo in peace. He wanders a ways down the road before his connection shoots up to three bars, and the text goes through.

Maybe he’ll actually see Junmyeon tonight and pass him the brownies in person.

He’s heading back to the tent when he catches sight of Baekhyun and Chanyeol, sitting at a picnic table across the street. Baekhyun’s laughing, and Sehun can hear him clear as day.

Stepping forward, Sehun opens his mouth to call out, and abruptly realizes that they’re holding hands across the table. Chanyeol’s still wearing his Christmas hat, and Sehun’s scarf has unwound itself from Baekhyun’s neck, clinging on for dear life to his shoulders.

Beneath the sparkling lights of the Christmas market, the both of them look like a classic winter picture, ten minutes from the end of the movie. A happy ending.

Baekhyun is wearing gloves, but Chanyeol’s fingers peek beneath the coverings to warm his skin, and despite the potentially meaningless gesture, it makes Sehun feel as though he’s intruding on something intimate, and it makes his stomach twist.

Sehun looks away. ‘Oh,’ his brain asks unhelpfully, ‘Did we know about that?’

His heart is pounding as though he just ran a marathon by the time he turns his head to look at them again. They’re only talking. If he hadn’t looked closely, he’d have thought nothing of it. Might have gone over to join them.

Then Chanyeol raises his other hand, and brushes a snowflake off Baekhyun’s cheek.

Sehun feels like his chest is going to explode.

He can’t count the number of times he’d gone by the café to find Baekhyun and Kyungsoo wrapped around one another, but not once had he thought they were dating. Close as they all are, intimacy is nothing new. But this felt different, and when Sehun inhales, the freezing air goes straight to his lungs.

Without checking for a reply from Junmyeon, Sehun ducks back into the store. He takes over from Kyungsoo at the booth, rearranging tarts and cleaning a sparkling countertop. Kyungsoo leans against his shoulder, squeezing his arm as though sensing Sehun’s turmoil.

They sell six more pastries before Baekhyun comes back in, chilled to the touch but brighter than before. He flits around the store energetically, while Chanyeol sits at the corner of the booth and tries not to get in their way.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. They’re sold out to the last few items at a half past eleven, and collectively decide to eat the remaining three pieces between them. By the time everything cleaned up and packed away, it’s close to midnight.

They walk to the station together, their long shadows racing ahead of them on the streets. It’s quiet, even Baekhyun’s battery has run out.

Chanyeol jostles Sehun’s arm, bumping up against him.

“You should stay over at our place, it’s the closest. It’ll take you an hour to get home at this rate, Sehun.”

“I can’t,” Sehun says at once, forgetting he needs an excuse that isn’t the truth. He can't impose on them. Not tonight. When he tries to follow up, his brain simply replays the scene from earlier that night in his head and refuses to go on.

“Why not?” There’s something about the look on Chanyeol’s face that sparks a fleeting moment of concern, but he blinks, and the expression is gone.

Sehun shakes his head. “Sorry. I mean, Junmyeon-hyung is at the apartment tonight. I should go home.”

He turns to look at Chanyeol head-on, and finds that Chanyeol’s holding Baekhyun’s scarf in both hands.

Sehun’s scarf.

Sehun thinks he’ll never get it back now, and for reasons he cannot understand, it hurts like a knife to the gut. There’s something final about the whole night; everything feels like the end.

“I’ll stay over,” Kyungsoo says, shattering Sehun’s thoughts and well-intentioned plans. “I’m exhausted.”

‘Kyungsoo,’ Sehun thinks frantically, wanting to reach out to grab his sleeve. ‘Kyungsoo, don’t.’

The three of them leave together, and Sehun walks them to the edge of the steps, waving them goodbye with the skin tight on his face. He assured them he was going to take a cab, but he sits at the bus stop instead, waiting forever for a bus that refuses to come.

By the time he gets home, it’s so late he can’t be bothered to check the time. He leaves the box of brownies for Junmyeon on the kitchen table, a note taped to the lid, climbs into bed and falls asleep instantly.

❄

There’s a saying Sehun thinks about from time to time : don’t worry about the end when you’ve only just begun. It’s a good quote, but it’s much easier said than done.

Jongdae’s comeback comes and goes, and as the days pass Jongdae doesn’t show up at the coffee shop again. The magazine with Jongdae’s face disappears from the coffee table, but at the store, the winter album plays on repeat. Kyungsoo’s face remains blank, and it’s hard to tell if he’s the one who put it on, but there’s no way he doesn’t recognize Jongdae’s voice.

Sehun texts Jongdae a congratulations on the day of the release, and receives a number of hearts in return, but nothing else. He looks at Jongdae’s number a lot, and thinks of calling. Wonders if he’s the only one from their group who has Jongdae’s new number, and whether he should do something with the fact.

He thinks it might be Kyungsoo who scares Jongdae. Kyungsoo, who is good and kind and gentle, but might not want Jongdae back at all. Sometimes Sehun opens his mouth to ask, when they’re working side by side at the café. It would be so easy to mention seeing Jongdae outside the store, and the problem will be out of Sehun’s court.

But Jongdae doesn’t want that, and Sehun wonders if there’s something he’s missing. How two people who are so obviously perfect for one another can end up apart. It isn’t fair.

He thinks of the ambiguous future of Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s relationship, and sighs. They’ve always been close, and Sehun could be mistaken. But they’d be good together. The same way once upon a time, Sehun thought Kyungsoo and Jongdae were good together.

As December progresses, Sehun sees the others less and less. Unless he’s on shift at the coffee shop, where Baekhyun and Kyungsoo permanently live now, he almost doesn’t see anyone at all. Chanyeol’s gone back to his rented office space, busy putting some finishing touches on his presentation, and Sehun lets himself in one evening after a shoot to find the apartment completely silent, like no one’s been there for days.

Chanyeol’s blanket pile has vanished, and the kitchen is shiny and cold. Someone’s cleaned up recently, and Sehun flops on the couch, displacing a few fluffy pillows.

He lies on the couch for long hours, staring at the door of Jongdae’s old bedroom. It’s Chanyeol’s study now, he uses it for work when he’s not building blanket forts in the living room. Jongdae’s bed is still there, though. Sometimes, Sehun finds Chanyeol asleep in the familiar sheets, tangled up in all the things Jongdae left behind.

Sehun reaches into his coat pocket, feeling the corners of an envelope prick against his fingers. He’s supposed to drop it off at his landlord’s office, but instead he’s been carrying it around with him. Yesterday, the yellow ‘To Let’ sign at the window near the café disappeared.

Sehun lies on the couch overthinking everything until he gives himself a headache. When evening falls, he goes back to his own home, leaving no proof he was ever there in the first place.

In his apartment, even Junmyeon’s empty bedroom screams at him. The air is stifling; he reaches up to uncoil the scarf that must be choking him, and finds his neck bare.

He’s out the door again before he knows it. On the train, he closes his eyes, resting his head back so it knocks against the glass.

He has no clue what he’s doing.

He winds up at his agency’s building, the only other place he’s ever at when he’s not at the coffee shop or Chanyeol’s apartment. He goes to his old dressing room, running his fingers over the photographs taped to the mirror and the signature he’d left at the edge of the table before he’d moved out.

A chair screeches next door, and Sehun sits up, realizing he’s not alone. He sticks his head out the door, wondering if it’s someone he knows, but hardly believes his eyes when he comes upon Kim Jongin.

Jongin’s dressed to the nines, his lilac suit sparkled with gems that trail up onto his exposed neck, leaving a dusting of glitter beneath his jawbone. He beams when he sees Sehun, and Sehun tries to offer a smile that isn’t as disconsolate as he feels.

He should have taken those acting classes when he was offered.

Jongin frowns, studying Sehun’s face. “I’ll be done in an hour. Stay put,” he orders, “We’re going for dinner.”

❄

With how popular Jongin is, it’s easier to go somewhere private, so Sehun ends up inviting Jongin home. The apartment must be lonely too, it’s empty so often now, and when Sehun is home he’s only ever moping. It would be nice to introduce Jongin to it before he had to move out.

He relays the jumbled story to Jongin over takeout noodles, swapping their names with Person A and Person B for anonymity before giving up entirely.

“I know exactly who you’re talking about anyway,” Jongin says. “We’ve met, remember?”

Jongin and Sehun had known each other at work, but it was through Yixing that Jongin met the others. It hadn’t been nearly enough interaction to call it a friendship, but he knew all their names and faces, which was enough to guide him through Sehun’s second attempt at storytelling.

“You can be friends with people in a relationship, you know that, right, Sehun?” Jongin says once Sehun is finished. He drops a dumpling into Sehun’s soup.

Sehun groans. “I know that. I just— everything used to be much easier.”

“Eat your food,” Jongin says. “Maybe you’re just hungry.”

“It’s fine,” Sehun says, after they’re done eating. “I still have you, don’t I? I’m glad you came back when you did.”

Jongin gives him a tight smile. “I’m leaving again in January, you know what my job is like.”

Sehun sighs. “Maybe I should go with you. Is it fun? Do you need a roommate? I can cook, clean.”

“There are two unwashed bowls of cereal in your sink as we speak, I don’t think you do either,” Jongin points out, and Sehun rolls himself off the edge of the couch.

A hand rests on his shoulder.

“You’d hate it,” Jongin says, “This is your home, your friends, your world.”

Sehun buries his face into the cushion he’d snatched in time to break his fall. He’s starting to think it might hurt less to be homesick, than live at home and not feel like he belonged. It would certainly be easier to blame any distance on physical miles, than the invisible hesitation swelling between them, like a wave about to break any moment.

“Sehun? Didn’t you have a roommate?” Jongin asks.

Sehun hadn’t noticed Jongin standing up. But he has, and the creaky apartment has spilled more of Sehun’s secrets than he originally meant to share. The door to Junmyeon’s bedroom is ajar, and it’s clear that the room is unlived in.

“My bedroom is next door,” Sehun says, turning his face away from the cushion so he can speak.

Jongin’s footsteps are light on the floor. Sehun doesn’t know what he was looking for before, but taking Sehun’s words as an invitation, he pushes the door to Sehun’s bedroom open. He must see, as Sehun does daily, the half-packed boxes and the bare walls.

Moments later, the couch dips as Jongin sits again.

“You were going to move in with them,” Jongin says.

“Maybe.” Sehun tries not to think about it. He’d already envisioned moving in, hadn’t put much thought into looking for a new place, sure they’d agree. With the way things are now, Sehun can’t bring himself to ask.

Sehun still thinks they’d say yes.  Greedy as it may sound, it wasn't enough for Sehun anymore.

“You should talk to them,” Jongin says. “I’ll drop you off at their place on my way back, okay?”

“Are you leaving?” Sehun asks, alarmed. He rolls over, finally meeting Jongin’s concerned gaze.

“Sehun, I’ll stay as long as you need me to, but I’m not the one who can help you. Don’t frantically build something new over the still-crumbling debris of the old one.”

“Is it crumbling, then?” Sehun says, trying for a joke. It comes out heartbroken.

Jongin pulls him to his feet.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you figured out.”

❄

When Sehun arrives at the apartment, only Baekhyun is home, wire-rimmed glasses balanced on his nose as he reads one of his business texts. He looks surprised to see Sehun, and even more surprised when Sehun doesn’t say a word, only collapses above him on the couch.

Baekhyun’s gentle fingers find his hair, combing softly. His book comes down to rest against the crown of Sehun’s head.

“Bad day?” He whispers. “It’s okay, Sehunnie.”

Sehun closes his eyes, silently furious with himself. He can’t understand how one second he’s sure he’s ready to move on, to grow up and find a new place, letting Baekhyun and Chanyeol live their lives in peace, while the next second he’s on the brink of moving right in, damn what anyone else says.

Jongin’s right; he feels like he’s climbing a ladder while he’s still building it, afraid to look down to see if the base is crumbling.

Sehun stares into nothing for a very long time, but gradually his brain stops whirring, and his eyes begin looking for something to hold on to. Sehun blinks as his gaze comes into focus, and his throat burns at the sight. The apartment’s been decorated, and there are four stockings hanging above the unused fireplace. Two red, one green, and one plaid. The last one had been Jongdae’s.

So he’d left that too, Sehun thinks.

“You put the stockings up,” Sehun croaks. Baekhyun makes a small noise, looking up from his book to see what Sehun’s talking about.

“I did,” Baekhyun says, resuming stroking Sehun’s hair. “We should get you one too. Have you gone Christmas shopping yet?”

Sehun shakes his head, staring at the stockings. They’d shown up Sehun’s first Christmas at the apartment, and he has no idea how many years before that they’ve been around. He wonders if one day in the future, there will only be two.

Sehun wants to keep holding on to Jongdae’s things. Likes coming across old keepsakes, likes finding his albums in random drawers, his old coat hanging in the unused hall cupboard.

It’s silly, because Sehun already knows that Jongdae will never move back into the little room at the end of the hall. He feels nostalgic and childish, clinging onto past memories when the others have moved on to greater things.

Only Sehun feels like he’s being left behind.

“Do you miss Jongdae?” He asks Baekhyun. “You put his stocking up.”

“It’s because his is the prettiest,” Baekhyun says, and laughs. He shakes his head. “No, I know. I dropped a gift in there, too. I don’t know when I’ll get to give it to him.

“His new album made me cry, and Kyungsoo won’t stop playing it at the store. I hate them both,” Baekhyun says, with a softness that means he doesn’t, not one bit.

He shifts, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He looks young like this, reminds Sehun a lot of the boy he’d met years ago. It sends a rush of affection through Sehun, even if it’s tinged with sadness.

Baekhyun reaches over, squeezing Sehun’s knee.

“I’ve actually been pretty lonely,” He says, and winds an arm around Sehun’s shoulders. “Thank you for coming to hang out with me, Sehunnie.”

❄

Three weeks until the new opening of the store finds Baekhyun and Kyungsoo bickering in the kitchen, arguing about gold star finishes and chalkboard paint. Sehun walks into the kitchen in the middle of an argument about paper napkins, and has to yank Baekhyun out of the kitchen to give them both a time out.

“Sorry,” Baekhyun grimaces, sinking into his seat at their table. He’s tossed his apron behind the counter, and there are powdery flakes on his shirt.

“We don’t usually argue,” Baekhyun says, as if Sehun’s unaware.

“You’re both stressed out,” Sehun says. “Take a break. When was the last time you went home?”

When Baekhyun hesitates before his answer, Sehun knows it’s been too long.

He settles Baekhyun down with a mug of warm tea, making sure he’s calmed down before going back to the kitchen to check on Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo’s gone right back to working, hunched over the baking table, and Sehun sighs.

“Baekhyun’s sorry,” Sehun offers, standing at the door.

Kyungsoo’s shoulders tense, and a second he says, “I know. I’m sorry, too.”

“I’m sending him home,” Sehun says. “I’ll take over his shift.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says, then “No. Please wait. Is he still out there?”

Sehun nods, and Kyungsoo looks relieved, but instead of going outside, he goes back to baking. Sehun stands by the door, watching.

He watches Kyungsoo work in the kitchen, rolling out tray after tray of pastries, and wishes Jongdae could be in there like he used to be, stealing cookie dough and kisses.

The door opens after ten minutes, and Baekhyun pokes his head in. His voice is a tiny thing.

“Kyungsoo, I’m sorry.”

The oven dings and Kyungsoo ignores Baekhyun, going over to open it. He sets the tray onto the table, discarding his oven mitts to pick a small tart up with his fingers and set it on a plate.

When Kyungsoo calls Baekhyun over, the neatly sliced strawberries on the tart form a heart-shape. Kyungsoo stress-bakes and Baekhyun stress-eats, and despite every hurdle that’s been thrown at them, they’re a good combination.

“I don’t care what napkins we use,” Baekhyun says. “I’m just nervous.”

“I’m not,” Kyungsoo says, and he smiles at Baekhyun. “We’re doing this together, aren’t we?”

❄

Sehun listens to them talk for as long as he can, the regular staff holding down the fort outside the kitchen door. Baekhyun promised to go home early, but in the meantime, he sits with Kyungsoo at the baking table, taking notes of their conversation on the back of Kyungsoo’s old recipes.

Every now and then, he pops one of whatever Kyungsoo’s making into his mouth.

“Don’t eat that one, Baekhyun. The cream is flat,” Kyungsoo says.

“No, it’s not,” Baekhyun says, hurriedly putting another in his mouth before Kyungsoo snatches the tray away. “It’s delicious.”

A rush of customers enter the shop. Sejeong sticks her head through the door, requesting help, and Sehun goes, grabbing Baekhyun’s apron from the hook behind the door.

He takes over at the register, selling gingerbread cookies and black coffee combinations, reminding each customer that the store will be closed for renovations two days right before the new year.

At the end of the line, Chanyeol comes to stand across the counter.

Sehun, mouth already opening to advertise the season’s drink, closes it again. He hasn’t seen Chanyeol since the night at the market, and if Sehun speaks, he’s afraid he’ll say something he shouldn’t.

“You have to be good to Baekhyun,” Sehun says, as he writes down Chanyeol’s order of an americano and a chocolate frappuccino. Sehun looks over Chanyeol’s shoulder to see if he’s brought a friend, but there’s no one with him.

Chanyeol looks at him quizzically.

“Have I not been?” He asks. “I’m sure Baekhyun will let me know if I’m not.”

Chanyeol hovers around while Sehun works, towering over the coffee machines that separate the counter from the main floor. Sehun hands him both his drinks, and Chanyeol says, “Will you sit with me for a minute?”

Technically, Sehun isn’t even working. He follows Chanyeol to their table, the only vacant one in the store. Sehun thinks some of their regular customers believe it’s a staff-only table, given how often it’s taken by members of the staff.

Once they’re seated, Chanyeol slides Sehun the chocolate frappuccino. If Sehun had known, he’d have added more sprinkles.

“I’ve got a crazy plan,” Chanyeol says, “But you have to keep it secret. You can’t tell Baekhyun.”

If Baekhyun would disapprove, it was most definitely crazy.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m going to get Jongdae back,” Chanyeol says, and Sehun stares.

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one who started this. And you’re right. He’s back in the country, and his comeback will be finished by Christmas. Is it so unreasonable to want him with us for the rest of the year?”

Sehun takes a long sip of his drink so he won’t be expected to answer.

“Kyungsoo and Baekhyun have been wanting to get their own store for years. It would mean a lot if Jongdae could be here to see them succeed,” Chanyeol says wistfully. He doesn’t mention how he’ll be reaching a milestone of his own before the year is up. Knowing Chanyeol, he’s only thought about Kyungsoo and Baekhyun’s happiness.

“Aren’t you supposed to be busy writing a speech?” Sehun asks.

Chanyeol raps on the table in disapproval. It’s funny how the hanging lamp is nearly obstructing his face. When it’s the both of them sitting there, Sehun feels too overgrown for the little table.

“I need some backup here. You could at least try to look excited.”

Under the table, Chanyeol steps on Sehun’s shoe with his heel. “Is everything okay between us?” Chanyeol asks. “You’ve been acting weird.”

It’s then Sehun realizes that Chanyeol’s wearing his gloves. He doesn’t remember losing them, but there they are, sitting folded up by Chanyeol’s elbow, dark velvet and faux-fur. Warm. Sehun’s hands clench around his cup.

Had Baekhyun taken Chanyeol’s gloves?

“You’d be good together,” Sehun says, struggling to tamp down his own feelings. He isn’t angry. He has no right to be; they’re his friends. Sehun only wants them to be happy. “Don’t hurt him.”

Chanyeol cocks his head, perplexed.

“Me and Baekhyun? What are you talking about?”

Confusion flickers through Sehun. Chanyeol smiles at him, and Sehun doesn’t know what to make of it. He almost believes Chanyeol, dismisses the thought, but then he feels it: a barely-discernable drumming on the tabletop.

When Chanyeol’s nervous, his fingers give it away.

If Sehun wasn’t sure before, he is now. He wishes this wasn’t how he had to find out.

“I have to get back to work,” Sehun says, pushing back from his chair. He turns back to the kitchen, before remembering that Baekhyun is still inside, and heads for the door instead.

Outside, he breaks into a run.

❄

“Would you say I’m a very emotional person? Or that I don’t care enough?” Sehun asks. Kyungsoo stares at him, looking tempted to pour the carton of milk he’s holding down Sehun’s shirt.

“Sehun, you literally cried when I told you to stop leaving your expired bubble teas in the work freezer. I wouldn’t say you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, no.”

Sehun purses his lips. It’s a gross exaggeration. He’d only done that twice, and he barely even teared up.

Kyungsoo puts the spatula he’s holding down. “Is this going to explain why you ran out in the middle of work yesterday and left Park Chanyeol in charge my coffee machine?”

Sehun winces. “Did Chanyeol take over? I didn’t mean—”

He’d gone home and done more thinking, which Sehun is beginning to think is a curse. For a long time now, it had always been the three of them, and Sehun hurts in a way he never has before. All the fond memories of them together, all those smiling photographs— had Sehun only been in their way the entire time? Would they have gotten together sooner if Sehun hadn’t been there?

“Chanyeol’s allowed to use the coffee machine,” Kyungsoo says. “Stop fretting and tell me what’s going on.”

“I think they’re dating,” Sehun says.

“Who is dating?” Kyungsoo repeats in confusion.

“Baekhyun and Chanyeol. Has Baekhyun said anything to you?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, and Sehun frowns, running a hand through his already messy hair. It’s a secret, then, and Sehun has no idea why that is.

“Look,” Kyungsoo says. “Neither Baekhyun or Chanyeol are complicated people. You could ask them.”

Sehun sits down beside the table, tracing circles in the leftover flour. He had asked. And Chanyeol lied.

He’s never spoken to Kyungsoo about Jongdae, and it hardly seems like the best time to start. But Sehun kicks his foot against the wheel of the table and looks up at Kyungsoo.

“Would it worry you?” Sehun asks.

Kyungsoo hums, taking the time to consider it. Sehun is glad he doesn’t respond right away, like he’s giving actual thought to Sehun’s baseless fears. When he isn’t worrying about them being together, he’s worrying about them being apart. It’s all Sehun does these days, worrying about endings when things only just begun. So much for inspirational quotes.

“Are you worried about them being together, or breaking up?” Kyungsoo asks.

Sehun blinks. “I— I don’t know. I think I’m just worried in general.”

What happens to us, once they’re together? Sehun wonders. What will happen to me, if Jongdae comes back?

A year ago, if Sehun could have wished for anything, it would be for the five of them to be together again. This year, if Sehun could have another wish, he thinks he’d hate himself for making it.

“Jongdae leaving really hurt you, didn’t it?” Kyungsoo asks, and Sehun startles. He’s worried he might have said Jongdae’s name aloud, but something in Kyungsoo’s expression says that he didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry we did this to you,” Kyungsoo says.

“No,” Sehun says, throat thick. “No, don’t say that.”

Sehun wants Jongdae back, wants everyone together again, he does. It’s just that everything’s gotten too complicated, too quickly. He longs bitterly for the past, even though as he thinks about it, the five of them have done well for themselves since then. Sehun wonders if that kind of success is worth the ache in his chest.

Goosebumps prickle against Sehun’s skin. Quietly, he asks, “Do you think we’d survive another breakup?”

“I’d like to think so."  Kyungsoo exhales. Sehun wonders what he’s thinking about, if he still thinks about Jongdae, even now.

"For what it’s worth, I don’t regret a single moment.”

❄

Life tumbles back in full-force. December means that the number of year-end obligations are endless, and Sehun’s whisked from one gala to another, each suit more glamorous than the last, laden with so many hair products that it’s hard to breathe through the chemical scent.

At the end of the week, he barely remembers tumbling into bed, and wakes up with his hair crusted and his leather shoes peeling off at the heel.

He spends the entire day at home, cleaning the apartment even though it’s nearly spotless. By mid-afternoon, he has two boxes stacked up beside his empty chest of drawers. He pours himself some orange juice into a wine glass Junmyeon left on the drying rack, and collapses onto the sofa, exhausted.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a pile of winter catalogues that Junmyeon has secretly been hoarding under the coffee table. He grumbles, reaching out to grab the stack.

Five Ways You’re Celebrating The Holidays Wrong, the first pamphlet informs him, and Sehun tosses it aside.

A thin postcard slips out of the stack, and Sehun leans across the table, picking it up. He’s expecting to see another advertisement or a cheesy stock photo, but instead finds a postcard with an actual stamp on it. Sehun’s setting it back in place when he realizes how familiar the writing looks. He flips it over.

Dear Junmyeon! Congratulations again on your engagement, of course I’ll be back for the wedding, I can’t wait!! It’s really warm here in LA, I don’t even remember where I packed my coats. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I’ll see you really soon!

Sehun rereads it several times, and puts the postcard facedown on the table. The customs stamp beside the address tells Sehun it was sent three weeks ago. He goes through the pile again, wondering if he’s somehow missed a card from Yixing, and his shoulders tense when it’s becoming evident that there’s nothing.

The Season of Comfort and Joy, reads the last catalogue in the stack. Sehun drops it, reaching for his drink.

It’s okay, Sehun tells himself. Junmyeon is the one getting married. He deserves the long-distance postcard. Yixing is busy. It’s okay.

Sehun exhales, and without checking the time, looks up Yixing’s number on his phone and hits call. He doesn’t expect Yixing to pick up, but he hasn’t heard the end of the first ring before the call goes through.

Yixing’s still at the dance studio even though it’s dark outside, and he’s eating something from a Chinese takeaway box, chopsticks balanced over the lid. His smile is bright, dimples deep, and Sehun, because his mouth and brain do not work in harmony, asks, “Why didn’t you send me a card?”

Yixing pauses. “What card?”

“I saw the Christmas postcard you sent Junmyeon-hyung,” Sehun says, backpedalling frantically and trying not to sound accusing. “Didn’t you want to send me one? It’s okay if you were too busy—”

“Sehun, what are you talking about? I sent your card before anyone else’s. I wrote so much that there were words all over the back, too.” Yixing says. He frowns, and Sehun suddenly feels guilty for questioning it at all. He should have known.

“Uh,” Sehun says, looking anywhere but Yixing’s eyes, “I mean, yeah I knew that. I just wanted to let you know that the post office hasn’t delivered it yet.”

Yixing snorts. “Well, text me if you still haven’t gotten it in a week, okay? I got you a really cute postcard and I’m going to make sure it gets to you even if I have to buy it again.”

Heat prickles at the back of Sehun’s throat. A beat passes before he finds his voice again.

“I miss you, hyung,” Sehun says. “Hello.”

Yixing’s laughter sounds like music.

❄

Winter, for most part, goes by like a dream. The days pass too quickly, but when Sehun checks the calendar, somehow no days have gone by at all. He works in routine, waiting for his next big break at work, something, but meanwhile fills the rest of his hours working shifts at Oasis. He isn’t busy like some of the others are, and when he wakes up at noon staring the sun in the eyes, he doesn’t know why he’s tired at all.

Tuesday evening finds Sehun wiping down the inventory shelves, listening to Hyunsik singing Christmas classics from behind the counter as he polishes the coffee machines, serenading his reflection in the shiny metal. It’s only the both of them working; Tuesdays were generally some of the quietest.

The group of girls celebrating someone’s birthday leave around nine, and Sehun waves them goodbye, following them out of the store to rescue the snow-laden signboard. He’s dusted it off and put it away when he catches sight of a large pair of eyes staring directly at him through the fogged up glass.

Sehun strides across the store and throws the door open.

“I was just passing by, but I thought I heard— is that my new album?” Jongdae asks, wide-eyed. His cheeks are pink from the cold, scarf wound tightly around his neck and all the way up to his ears. “Did you put it on?”

“I’m not in charge of the music,” Sehun says, shaking his head. “Come in, okay? Neither of them are working tonight.”

“It really is,” Jongdae says, frozen in the doorway as the soothing sound of his own voice washes over him. “Does Kyungsoo know this is playing?”

“Well, he’s the one who put it on, so I should think he knows,” Sehun says, tugging Jongdae in by the sleeve. He’s about to let the door swing shut behind him when a hand reaches out of the evening snow and grabs the back of his sweater.

Sehun leaps a foot off the ground.

It’s Jongdae’s manager.

“Look,” he says to Sehun. “I’m going to leave you guys be, but— be kind to him, okay?”

A business card is pressed into Sehun’s palm. “My name’s Minseok. If anything happens, tonight, or down the road, please call me.”

He retreats out the door without giving Sehun the chance to respond. When Sehun looks for him in the snow, he’s nowhere to be found. He tucks the namecard into his pocket.

Jongdae’s barely made it two feet into the store, looking around with a mixture of awe and anxiety. It’s been years since he’s come back here, and his fingers are locked tight into one another, scanning the room like he’s afraid Kyungsoo will pop up from behind a chair and boo him.

“It’s just us,” Sehun repeats, urging Jongdae further into the store. “Go say hi to Hyunsik-hyung, he’s a big fan.”

Hyunsik lights up when Jongdae approaches the counter, and Sehun glances over his shoulder out into the night, suddenly cautious. The old couple sitting at the sofa don’t even look up, and Sehun lets himself relax.

When he turns back, Jongdae is already making his way over to their table at the corner of the coffee shop. He’s forgotten that it’s Jongdae’s table too, where he’d sat curled up with Baekhyun as they read the fan response to his first single, Sehun watching them from behind the counter as he made drinks. Kyungsoo had been beside him then, warm and fond.

He waits to pick up their drinks, making sure to swear Hyunsik to secrecy. Jongdae smiles when Sehun sits down across from him, two coffees and the last of Kyungsoo’s scones on a tray.

“Guess what,” Jongdae says. “Look up.”

There’s a twist of mistletoe hanging from the lightbulb above their heads. Sehun looks up at it warily then over at Jongdae, who’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I don’t think this was meant for me,” Jongdae says with a laugh. “Let’s give this one a miss, Minseok would kill me if I ended up on tomorrow’s front page news.”

It draws a smile from Sehun, and he holds his hands up in a weak gesture of surrender. Jongdae studies him quietly, fingers curled around the butter knife.

“You know we’re still friends, right? Why do you look so sad everytime you see me?” Jongdae asks.

Sehun twists the straw of his drink, gathering condensation on his fingertips. “You say that we are, and yet you won’t come visit us. Are you mad at the others? I know you’d have run if it had been Kyungsoo in here instead of me, and I don’t know why.”

Jongdae exhales.

“We’re not fighting, Sehun,” He says.

“That’s what Baekhyun and Chanyeol said too. Chanyeol came to me with a long plan on how to get your number the other day,” Sehun says, trying not to think about what else had happened that day. “You should show up soon, or he’ll be sending turtle doves to your window or something of the sort.”

“I’d prefer a couple of french hens,” Jongdae says. “But thanks for the warning. Did he really ask for my number?”

“He was ready to make blueprints and everything,” Sehun confirms. Joking aside, he means it. “Why won’t you visit? Maybe you’ve moved on, you have other people and you’re happy now, but I don’t know for sure. Sometimes I see you on tv, far out of reach, and I pray that you aren’t lonely. Are you happy, hyung?”

Jongdae crumbles the edge of a scone with his butter knife and finally meets Sehun’s gaze again.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to feel lonely,” Jongdae says. “I used to tell myself that the loneliness was something I could fix later, that it’s less important.”

“I’d hear a new song and think Chanyeol would like it, or see some stupid video that I’d want to send to Baekhyun. Kyungsoo— god, Sehunnie, everything made me think of Kyungsoo.” Jongdae squares his shoulders, the lingering ghosts clinging to his back. “Keeping busy was the only way I could stop thinking, and before I knew it, all this time had passed, just like that. And now here we are.”

“Hyung,” Sehun says slowly, “Did you think we’ve moved on? Chanyeol and Baekhyun still buy your magazines. Your song plays at this store for hours on end, whenever new ones come out.”

“And,” Sehun says, voice wavering a little, “I bought so many of your albums. I thought I could show up at a fansign and surprise you. Do you know how difficult it is to get into one of your meets.”

“You should have told me. I’d have let you in, you know that, Sehunnie.”

“I know that now,” Sehun says.

Impulsively, Sehun reaches over to squeeze Jongdae’s fingers. “I’m not the only one who tried. I’m pretty sure Baekhyun did too. Maybe he wanted to get a ticket for Kyungsoo.”

Jongdae’s fingers stiffen, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You didn’t part on bad terms,” Sehun tries, wanting to be sure.

“No, we didn’t,” Jongdae agrees. “Kyungsoo’s far too mature for that.”

“If you want to,” Sehun says, “You should come back.”

Jongdae puts his other hand on the table, over Sehun’s. “I’m not lurking outside this store for nothing, you know. It’s just taking me a little time to muster the courage. I promised I would, didn’t I?”

Sehun feels both hot and cold at the same time, hope rising up in his chest, fighting to engulf the fear that’s simmering in his stomach. He swallows, looking for words and coming up empty. Something must show in his face, for Jongdae leans over and kisses him, just gently, on the forehead.

“Mistletoe,” Jongdae says softly, and he smiles.

❄

Over the weekend, Sehun starts looking at housing ads in earnest. As comfortable as he is with the bad habit of putting things off, he doesn’t want to find himself out of a home come January.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol haven’t said a word about their relationship, but Sehun finds notes taped to the cashier sometimes in Chanyeol’s handwriting, things like ‘have a good day!’ or ‘remember to drink lots of water!’

Over the past few years, Baekhyun had gone through a string of boyfriends and girlfriends, coffee shop lovers who left notes on the back of receipts, and lived off americanos and soy.

Chanyeol was better than all of them combined.

If there’s one thing Sehun can do, it’s admit that much.

He properly sits at his laptop and browses through listings, grimacing at the ones that look too shady, and sending out emails to the ones that don’t. He taps his pen against the desk until he loses the cap, and every apartment he comes across still pales in comparison to where he really wants to live.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sehun mutters to himself, as he browses an agent’s website for a property in the same building as Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s. It’s a whole other level of self-inflicted torment, to move in next door to where he wants to be the most.

Regardless, he saves the page in his bookmarks.

He doesn’t stand up until the sky is dark and he’s somehow missed it, sitting in darkness, even though he sat down to work at midday. Faint traces of a headache build up in the back of his skull, and he uncurls from the desk to look for food.

He can’t remember where he’d left his phone, but he almost doesn’t want to check it anyway; recently all he ever does is refresh the lockscreen for messages from Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and feel disappointed when there’s none.

The phone is sitting in the fruit bowl, and Sehun pointedly avoids it while he microwaves a bowl of instant ramen and sits down to eat. Eventually, he caves, reaching out for the phone, just maybe—

There are nineteen messages and five missed calls from Baekhyun.

Alarmed, Sehun unlocks his phone, scrolling up to the earliest message and reading them in sequence.

“Hey, want to go for dinner together?”

“We’re going to this sushi place near the college. I’ll text you the details.”  

“[attachment]”

“See you tonight!”

“Just finished eating, we’ll meet you at the auditorium.”

“Sehun, aren’t you coming?”

“Sehun please answer your phone”

“Sehun are you okay??”  

“OH SEHUN WHERE ARE YOU”

“Please text me back Sehunnie”  

“It’s Chanyeol’s turn next, are you almost here??”

The last message was sent over an hour ago, and there’s been nothing since.

Bile rises in Sehun’s throat and he drops the phone, scrambling frantically for something amongst the pile of letters. There he finds the flyer Chanyeol had handed him over a month ago, and checks the date with shaking fingers, reaffirming what he already knows is true.

He’s missed Chanyeol’s presentation.

He feels physically sick, legs giving up so he crumples beneath the table, gripping the flyer tightly in both hands. The room sways and Sehun closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

God. He stumbles to his feet, throwing on a clean outfit and coat. Within moments, he’s out the door, flagging down the first cab he sees. He spends the entire ride wringing his hands together, forehead digging into the headrest of the seat in front of him.

The cab drops him off at the edge of the campus. He’s pointed towards the right building, and Sehun approaches a couple of students milling around, smoking on the front steps. They barely look Sehun’s way before swiping an access card over the door, allowing Sehun to enter.

The entrance hall is empty, and Sehun looks both ways before heading for the large doors that must lead to the auditorium. One of the doors is still propped open, brightly colored presentation poster taped to the front, but inside, most of the lights are off and the hall is empty.

His heart drops beneath the carpet, shattered before it hits the floor.

He steps inside anyway, as if perhaps he can see the traces of where they were, and it might tell him where they’d be. The stage is empty, but there are papers on the lectern, and Sehun wonders if that’s where Chanyeol had stood an hour ago, nervously folding his script in his hands.

He’s nearly halfway to the stage when he sees the two heads tucked together at the front row, impossible to recognize from the distance. They’re talking quietly, sprawled out in the seats and over one another, perhaps two students taking a break from their long night.

Yet, Sehun’s heart scrapes itself up from the ground, hoping.

Three rows away, they look up.

“Sehun?” Chanyeol says in surprise, and it carries across the acoustics of the hall.

Baekhyun jumps to his feet. “Where were you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry.” Sehun says, shame crawling up from his stomach as Baekhyun searches him for signs of wounds, of illness. Sehun wonders, if it would make things better, or worse, if he collapsed where he stood. He certainly feels like he’s seconds away from it.

“I called you,” Baekhyun says, puzzled. “I messaged you before dinner, I asked if you wanted to join us. You didn’t even read it.”

“I didn’t have my phone with me. I— it slipped my mind.” Sehun says.

“I see,” Chanyeol murmurs. “I thought, after our last conversation…”

He trails off.

Sehun takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t feel like he got any oxygen from it regardless. Above all, Chanyeol is his friend. Sehun wouldn’t have let anything get in the way of their relationship like that.

Except, he had.

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says, watching Sehun’s face.

Sehun shakes his head vehemently. He’s trembling all over, and doesn’t know when he started. “It isn’t like that. You know I care, hyung. I meant to come, we’ve been talking about this for ages. I would have been in the front row, cheering for you.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says. “It’s okay. The others were here.”

Somehow, that makes Sehun feel both better and worse at the same time.

“I’m sorry, hyung, please. I meant to come. I just—”

Chanyeol waits, but Sehun can’t finish his sentence. Eventually, Chanyeol shakes his head and smiles at Sehun, forgiving and wrong.

Baekhyun comes between them, looking up at Sehun. The worst part is that they don’t even look angry, just uncertain. "Has something been wrong recently, Sehunnie? Is everything okay?"

“I know you’ve been preparing for this presentation for ages. I’m so sorry, hyung. I wanted to be here more than anything,” Sehun says instead. He’s throat is hot and prickly, and he’s going to burst into tears.

In his desperation to keep everyone together, he’s gone and ruined everything. Stupid. Stupid. He’s seconds from excusing himself and running off when Chanyeol’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Do you want to see it?”

“What?” Sehun says. “Do I— what?”

In the empty auditorium, at a quarter past eleven, Chanyeol steps on stage and powers up the projector all over again.

"Hyung," Sehun whispers.

Chanyeol shushes him. The screen comes down, and Chanyeol’s laptop whirs to life. Sehun lets Baekhyun drag him to sit. His ribs feel as though they’re crushing into his lungs, each breath feeling like he’s swallowing liquid fire.

Baekhyun shifts, palm resting against Sehun’s back.

“Testing, one, two, three.” Chanyeol says smoothly into the microphone. He smiles down at them. "Good evening, my name is Park Chanyeol. Today I'll be presenting my game..."

And even though it’s an audience of two, Chanyeol talks as though they’re his entire world, listening.

❄

Four a.m. finds Sehun sitting by the vending machines of a smoky lounge, muted singing coming through the walls. He’s worked hard all night prolonging his inevitable hangover with the help of three separate establishments, and is now beginning to feel the aftereffects as Baekhyun and Chanyeol steadily make their way through Buzz’s discography in their karaoke room.

Sehun feeds the machine whatever coins he can find in his wallet, and eventually the hard-earned can of juice falls down the chute with a clang. He stands, legs a little wobbly, and catches himself against the wall.

Someone’s wailing through a key-change down the hall, and Sehun winces, cracking open the can and taking a sip.

He’s about to go back to the room, when hesitation washes over him like a tangible wave.

“Don’t do this,” Sehun says, pressing his palm to his head. It’s been nothing but a good night since Chanyeol’s presentation, the applause of four hands filling the empty auditorium while Chanyeol bowed and squished them in a tight hug like he’d won an award.

Sehun hadn’t known what to do afterwards, but they’d dragged him out to celebrate, one drink after another, and sandwiched between the both of them, affectionate and pliable, it was easy to dull the voice inside his head that told him he was the odd one out.

Until now.

“Stop,” Sehun says, pushing out the front door to get some fresh air.

It’s freezing out in the stairwell, especially without his coat that's still sitting in the karaoke room. Sehun sits anyway, facing away from the door, and cradles the can of juice in his hands.

He’ll try to do better tomorrow, Sehun promises, burying his face in his knees. For one night, he wants to pretend he doesn’t know what’s going on. What’s to come. Today, he needs to pretend that everything is the way it used to be, or he’ll fall apart.

He doesn’t hear the door open until a warm coat is draped over his shoulders, hood catching over his ears and for a brief moment, drowning out the noise in his head.

Someone sits down beside him, long legs folding cross-legged over the steep steps.

“Chanyeol?”

“What are you doing here?” Sehun asks, sitting up.

“I should be asking you that question,” Chanyeol says. “It’s the quarter of any reasonable temperature out here, what are you doing?”

Sehun heaves a sigh. He stands, forgetting about the fortunately empty can of juice, and it bounces noisily down several steps before Chanyeol catches it with one hand.

“Is everything okay?” Chanyeol asks. “I know we keep asking, but I wish I could help, Sehun.”

Chanyeol climbs back up the stairs, empty can in hand. Sehun tries to look away, but they’re close; too close. They’re about the same height, just barely, but sometimes, Sehun feels as though Chanyeol could protect him from anything.

The words tumble out before Sehun can help himself.

“I saw you and Baekhyun that night.”

Chanyeol’s brow creases as he tries to figure out which night Sehun is talking about.

“During the night market, while you were outside at the bench,” Sehun elaborates. “I asked you, at the café, if you were together, and you told me you weren’t. You’re good at keeping it quiet, but I know you. I know what you look like in love, what you look like when you lie. And you’re in love, and you’re lying, and I don’t know why.”

Chanyeol’s face crumbles, and his fingers come down to crush Sehun’s wrist.

“You saw us?”

Sehun nods, wordless.

“What’s going on?” Baekhyun asks, immediately sensing something is wrong the moment they step into the room. His voice is amplified into the microphone, still held to his mouth mid-song, and he draws it away quickly, putting it down on the table. The reverb crackles through the cheap speakers on the ceiling.

“We need to talk,” Chanyeol says.

❄

The cab ride back to their apartment is pindrop silent, and now that they don’t have to hide it anymore, Baekhyun buries his face in Chanyeol’s jacket, visibly shaken. Chanyeol’s hand grips tight around Baekhyun’s shoulders, thumb running circles into the pattern of his coat.

When Baekhyun’s drunk, or hurt, he needs people more than ever. Sehun shouldn’t have done this tonight, twice the damage.

He’s quiet as they unlock the door to the apartment, takes the glass of water from Baekhyun’s shaking hands when it’s offered. Baekhyun pours two more glasses, one for Chanyeol, one for himself.

“I’m not angry,” Sehun murmurs finally, unable to handle the kicked look on Baekhyun’s face.

Baekhyun smiles at him, a poor imitation of what it could be. “I’m angry at myself,” he says. “Come sit with me, Sehun.”

Chanyeol returns from the bedroom with two thick blankets, and they spread the blanket on the floor directly above the heating. A picnic at five in the morning. Chanyeol takes a seat directly across from Sehun, and despite what Sehun expects, Baekhyun doesn’t move to join him.

“It’s true that I asked Baekhyun out that night,” Chanyeol says. Even though Sehun already knows this, hearing it out loud sends a new wave of helplessness over him. “We’d been heading that way for awhile, and that night, when I saw him— it just happened. But we’re not dating.”

“You’re not?” Sehun whirls to Baekhyun, shocked, seeking confirmation. “You said no?”

“I said wait,” Baekhyun corrects.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you too,” Baekhyun says.

Sehun’s head is spinning. “Why?”

“Because this involves you,” Chanyeol says. He reaches over the blankets, squeezing Baekhyun’s hand. They exchange looks, and Sehun’s too befuddled to catch what it means.

“Baekhyun wants to date me. But he also wants to date you.” Chanyeol takes a deep breath. “And I want to date you.”

Sehun stares, looking back and forth between them. Chanyeol’s chewing on his lower lip, but his gaze is fierce. Baekhyun is pale as a sheet.

“Did you want this?” Sehun asks him. He can’t process anything right now, but he won’t be able to until he hears it from the both of them.

“I wanted to wait until after Christmas, because I didn’t want to ruin your holidays. Chanyeol wanted to ask you before, so we could all celebrate together. I was too afraid. I asked him to wait,” Baekhyun says.

“But you want this?” Sehun repeats in disbelief. “Me?”

Baekhyun nods. “Yes. I want you, Sehun.”

Sehun shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. Maybe he hoped for this, once upon a time. But it feels like an eternity ago, and since then, Sehun’s convinced himself that it’ll never happen, that it’s wrong, that he’ll never fit the way they do. That they’d never want him, that it would never work.

‘Yes!’ Sehun’s brain screams, despite the whirring misgivings. ‘This is what you want! Say yes, Sehun!’

Like a goldfish, Sehun’s mouth opens and shuts again. In the back of his mind, he’s aware that it’s a bad time for spontaneous decisions; they’re all too drunk and exhausted for this.

“If I say ‘no,’” Sehun begins hesitantly, “What will happen to you? Will you guys not date?”

Baekhyun inhales sharply.

“No,” He says. “I— it’s not—I’ll still want Chanyeol.”

“Don’t hinge your happiness on me,” Sehun says. “Please.”

“We won’t,” Chanyeol promises. “We’ll be okay, Sehun. We’re not forcing you to make that choice. You only need to worry about if you want us.”

“I—” do, but Sehun doesn’t finish that sentence.

“I need time to think,” Sehun says. He stands, looking around the apartment, as if it’ll give him the answer he needs. His eye catches onto the fireplace, where five stockings are hung. Sehun never even noticed the addition of the fifth. Baekhyun’s, Chanyeol’s, and his, side by side.

“You want me,” he says again, because he can’t get past the thought, the sheer possibility that they could work.

“You shouldn’t feel this way, this kind of doubt,” Baekhyun says, upset. “We’re sorry we made you feel like you didn’t belong, instead of the other way around.”

Sehun shakes his head, but he can’t formulate a response.

“We’re all tired. Stay the night,” Chanyeol says. “Take a blanket with you.”

“Okay,” Sehun says. He grabs one of the blankets, and impulsively, gives them both a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Baekhyun says. “Have a good night, Sehun.”

Sehun goes into Jongdae’s old bedroom in a daze, clearing aside the stack of freshly cleaned clothes someone’s left on the bed. It takes a minute of holding the pile before he digs into it, changing into something more comfortable.

He’s asleep the second his head touches the pillow.

❄

From that night onwards, Sehun feels stretched paper-thin. It’s only days away from Christmas, and at this point Sehun wishes that the whole year could just be done with.

They promised to give Sehun all the time he needed to think about his answer, and in the meantime, no one treats Sehun any differently. It’s weird being at the café with Baekhyun, but Baekhyun’s still kind to him, soft, friendly, if a little sad around the edges. It’s not as if they get a lot of time to talk anyway, not with the handover looming closer, and Sehun has to check the kitchen every hour or so, to make sure Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are both still standing.

Chanyeol’s shut down his computers for the year, and Sehun can’t go into the café without seeing Chanyeol sitting there at their table, drinking black coffee with angel-shaped cookies on the side of his plate.

When Baekhyun needs a few minutes to catch his breath, he escapes the counter and goes to sit beside Chanyeol. Once or twice Sehun catches Kyungsoo out there with them, a third chair pulled up to the two-person table.

Seeing three of them like that reminded Sehun of the nights when the store had just opened, and was more often than not empty. Back then, it was just the five of them building their hopes and dreams at the too-small table in the corner, telling themselves they had to leave room for the customers that would come. The customers that eventually did come.

Sehun shakes himself, going back to the coffee beans.

Late one evening, a girl hurries in fifteen minutes before closing, as Sehun’s retrieving the signboard from outside the shop. He recognizes her as one of their regular customers, Thursday-evening-hazelnut-latte.

Kyungsoo, sorting through money at the register, stands up to greet her.

“Is it true you’re selling the coffee shop?” She asks, fumbling for her wallet and waving towards the sign Sehun’s carrying.

“Selling? Not us. We’re buying,” Kyungsoo says, and flashes her a smile full of teeth.

Her eyes widen.

“Oh!” She says. “I’m so happy. I’ve been coming here for such a long time, it would be a shame to have to go elsewhere. One medium hazelnut latte, please.”

Kyungsoo rings up her order, thanking her for her continuous support while she cheerily asks about how the preparations are coming along. Baekhyun pops out from the kitchen to make the drink, and when she’s gone, Kyungsoo yanks him to the counter by the ear.

“Have you been flirting with the customers while at work again?” Kyungsoo asks.

“Me? Never."  Baekhyun crosses a finger over his heart.

“Interesting. So why is there a receipt in the coin compartment that says ‘you look beautiful today, gorgeous’?”

Baekhyun coughs, looking at the receipt.  “Someone left it for Sehun,” He says, straight-faced. Sehun shakes his head quickly, and Kyungsoo puts the receipt on the counter so Sehun can read it.

Kyungsoo might not, but Sehun recognizes Chanyeol’s handwriting immediately. He frowns, turning to Baekhyun, ready to call him out on the lie.

Instead, he catches Baekhyun smiling at him.

He looks down at the receipt again.

“Is that yours? Have you been flirting with customers at work?” Kyungsoo asks with a sigh.

Heat burns in his throat, and Sehun swallows, closing his palm over the paper.

“It looks like I have,” he tells Kyungsoo, and Baekhyun doesn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.

❄

It’s his one off-day of the weekend before Christmas, and his phone vibrates so enthusiastically it nearly falls off the table. Sehun snatches it, seeing the photo of Baekhyun’s face beaming up at him.

“Hello?”

“You won’t believe who just showed up at the café,” Baekhyun says. “And also, I need you to come pick me up.”

“What?”

“Jongdae!” Baekhyun says happily, and Sehun’s stomach does a remarkable backflip.

“Jongdae what?”

“Jongdae’s at the café!” Baekhyun says. “Kyungsoo shoved him into the back room, but he keeps glancing over at him, and Jongdae just keeps looking through the glass with heart eyes… it’s really Jongdae! I keep pinching myself, but he’s here!”

“He’s in the café with you?” Sehun asks. Even though Jongdae promised to show up, the fact that it’s happening at all, in the middle of everything, is hard to believe. Sehun’s already reaching for his coat, wanting to see it for himself.

“He’s here! It’s really him! And Kyungsoo broke two plates and my ankle and—”

“Wait, what?” Sehun interrupts.

“Uh-oh, Kyungsoo’s coming in to yell at us both. Come quickly, Sehun!” Baekhyun says, and hangs up.

Sehun stares down at his phone, the door he pushed open closing in his face.

What?

❄

The café is running as usual when Sehun enters, but the register appears severely understaffed as Sejeong juggles a stack of freshly washed mugs and a bucket of ice out the back door. Sehun hurries over to help, letting himself behind the counter.

“Jongdae is here again,” Hyunsik says, nodding his head towards the door as Sehun joins him by the coffee machine. “I can’t tell if Kyungsoo is happy or upset. They’re all inside.”

Sehun draws his lips into a thin line, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door.

“We can handle it here,” Sejeong says, gesturing for him to go ahead. “It’s a regular queue of black coffees.”

Glancing at the waiting customers, who all look patient and content, Sehun excuses himself. He pushes open the door to the kitchen, and the first thing he sees is Jongdae sitting at Kyungsoo’s baking table, looking chastised. Something clangs loudly from behind the open refrigerator door, and Baekhyun peeks his head out, ice cubes scattering across the floor.

“What is going on? Where’s Kyungsoo?”

“He went upstairs,” Baekhyun says. “I think he’s still in shock.”

Sehun rounds the refrigerator door, holding it open as Baekhyun hobbles into the chair across from Jongdae. His eyes immediately go to Baekhyun’s ankle, the one he claimed Kyungsoo broke before hanging up. There’s a bag of ice hanging off his left foot, and Sehun crouches down to lift it up.

“Aren’t you surprised to see Jongdae?” Baekhyun says, nudging Sehun’s knee with a toe. “You should give him a hug. He’s had a very unwelcome return so far.”

Sehun drops the bag of ice back onto Baekhyun’s foot, looking worriedly at Jongdae.

Jongdae leans over the counter to pat Sehun’s shoulder. “It’s nothing like that. Baekhyun’s happy to see me, weren’t you? He was so happy he fell off the stepladder.”

Baekhyun swats Jongdae with a whisk. “Kyungsoo caught me, then he saw Jongdae and immediately let me fall, so now I’m bruised and betrayed.”

“God,” Sehun says, leaning his back against the table. “This is not the reunion I was expecting.”

“It could be worse,” Baekhyun says, optimistic. “I could have been holding a carton of eggs.”

“Baekhyun, I told you not to move.” Kyungsoo’s voice comes sharply from the back door.

“Sehun came to pick me up. He’ll make sure I get home safely, won’t you, Sehun?” Baekhyun says.

“Take him to a doctor,” Kyungsoo says to Sehun. “I don’t think it’s serious, but it’d be good to make sure. Jongdae will cover the cost.”

Jongdae, stealing one of Kyungsoo’s chocolate tarts from the half-open oven, chokes on it.

Baekhyun laughs, limping over to Jongdae to give him a hug. “Thanks for the broken ankle. I’ll see you again tomorrow. Don’t let Kyungsoo scare you!” In a stage whisper, he adds, “Did you see the magazine cutout Kyungsoo keeps taped to the safe?”

“It’s there because the safe is broken, and won’t open unless I slide something beneath the handle,” Kyungsoo says. “Now get out of here, you menace.”

Baekhyun vanishes out the door, faster than anyone with an actual broken ankle ever could.

“Don’t be angry at Jongdae,” Sehun says, as Kyungsoo walks him to the door. He glances over at Jongdae, out of earshot and stealing another pastry like it’s his last meal. “He meant well.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, face breaking into a smile, and the look of pure happiness on his face makes Sehun’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m not angry,” Kyungsoo promises. “Do I look angry?”

“No,” Sehun says, and steps forward to wrap Kyungsoo in a hug. “I’m so happy for you, hyung.”

❄

The doctor who inspects Baekhyun’s ankle sends them off with a nicely bandaged sprain, a strip of painkillers, and tells Baekhyun cheerfully that he’ll be fixed in no time. They take another cab back home, on Jongdae’s tab, and Sehun hovers cautiously as Baekhyun limps up the three steps to the apartment lobby.

“Can I interest you in carrying me up the stairs?” Baekhyun asks, prodding Sehun’s arm. He’s a little woozy even with the dosage of two tiny pills, and he clings to Sehun as they walk.

“We’re taking the elevator,” Sehun says flatly.

Nevertheless, he carefully helps Baekhyun every step of the way, only relaxing once they’re indoors, and Baekhyun is tucked comfortably in bed.

“Why didn’t you call Chanyeol?” Sehun asks, looking around the empty apartment to make sure Chanyeol isn’t hidden in a corner somewhere.

“He had some papers to turn in today,” Baekhyun says, tugging another pillow from his side to cuddle with. “Of all days! He’ll be mad he missed Jongdae’s grand entrance.”

“He’d come if you called, you know that, right? No matter what.” Sehun asks. Chanyeol is always busy, but he still makes time for all his friends. If it were Baekhyun, Sehun thinks, not even the world ending would get in his way.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. He punches Sehun lightly, barely any weight there. “But I knew you would too.”

Sehun scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip.

“Baekhyun—”

“Don’t think too much into it,” Baekhyun orders. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He chooses to flick Baekhyun’s arm wordlessly instead of answering. He’s still sitting by Baekhyun’s bedside, body half-perched onto the bed, and Baekhyun leans over to rest his head against Sehun’s shoulder.

“You heart’s beating really fast,” Baekhyun mumbles. He reaches over and pats it softly, as if he can get it to calm down, like it’s a spooked kitten. “Big, strong, Sehunnie, whose heart works hard to pump oxygen to his brains.”

“Go to sleep,” Sehun says. “You’re getting loopy. I’ll figure something out for dinner and wake you up.”

Baekhyun laughs into Sehun’s shoulder, curls up, and obediently falls asleep.

Sehun leans back against the bedframe, feeling Baekhyun’s hair tickle against his arm with every gentle breath. Chanyeol’s left his guitar in Baekhyun’s bedroom and it leans against the dresser— maybe they’d played something together last night, maybe Baekhyun’s trying to learn, for that new video he’s been meaning to make.

Sehun stands up, pulling away slowly, and Baekhyun flops over, fingers curling around the empty space where Sehun was. It almost tempts Sehun to sit again, to bask in the moment.

Now that Jongdae’s back, everything is as it should be. The only thing that remains to be solved is Sehun’s own indecision.

He combs the apartment absently, trying not to get lost in his thoughts again. He promised Baekhyun dinner, so he digs through the stack of mail for one of Chanyeol’s many restaurant delivery coupons.

There’s a thick pile of envelopes on the coffee table, and while pulling out two different pizza mailers, Sehun comes across a postcard with a very familiar photograph on the cover.

It’s the same postcard Yixing sent to Junmyeon, albeit from a slightly different angle. So Yixing’s sent one to Chanyeol, too. Sehun riffles through the stack, everything from electricity bills to Baekhyun’s fanmail, and pulls out several more postcards of similar design, each one decorated on the front with Yixing’s personalized doodles.

There’s one for Baekhyun, and one for… Jongdae?

Sehun turns it over, not reading the words but briefly looking at the length of the text. He wonders why Yixing had sent it; they had not known each other for very long before Jongdae moved abroad and Yixing took over his empty room. Jongdae’s always been unforgettable in that way, Sehun supposes. Everyone who’s met Jongdae always had a kind word about him, and Yixing, writing letters to all his friends, had automatically included Jongdae into the equation.

Yixing hadn’t worried that Jongdae wouldn’t receive it, even addressed here like this, to a home he’d left almost two years ago. Had Yixing known, while Sehun was unsure, that Jongdae would always find his way back?

Sehun sinks backwards into the couch, holding onto Jongdae’s postcard, and the stack of letters balancing across his knee fall to the rug. Another postcard breaks free from the pile, landing on Sehun’s foot. He picks it up, frowning down at it.

Who else was there?

Sehun’s freezes, seeing his own name on the front of the postcard. Turns it over, once, twice. There it is, his name on both the front and back. The tiny postcard is crammed with words, creeping all the way to the front and winding around the Christmas palm trees and dog-walker.

Sehun flips it over, checking the delivery label.

It’s addressed to Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s apartment.

Yixing must not have realized it, if he hadn’t mentioned it when Sehun called. Sehun curls up on the couch, reading the postcard, and when he’s done, stares at the address once more.

He doesn’t know what to make of the fact that Yixing had automatically addressed his letter to this apartment, instead of Sehun’s three-year residence with Junmyeon. He knows it’s not because Yixing had lost his address either, for Junmyeon had received his just fine, and Sehun rolls over so that he’s facing the ceiling, postcard clutched to his chest.

He holds on to the postcard for a very long time, staring at nothing, wondering how many more signs he’ll need before the choice is clear.

❄

They don’t talk about what they’re doing for Christmas. It’s not a big thing this year, not with Chanyeol’s presentation newly completed, and Baekhyun and Kyungsoo spending every waking hour at the café.

They don’t have the time to celebrate, not yet, but it goes unsaid that Sehun’s invited to show up at their apartment as he always does. They might get a nice dinner together, and simply hang out like it was any other night, Baekhyun’s Christmas decorations twinkling in the background.

Christmas eve comes, and Sehun works himself into a withered heap. He lies with his legs dangling off the side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He spoke to Jongin a few days earlier, who hadn’t understood his plight, but hugged him anyway.

The thing is, Sehun thinks, knows— perhaps, that in the end, the answer will be yes.

But he wants to be sure, especially for something like this. The entire month has driven him into the ground, and with his head the way it is, he can't be sure of the difference between being lonely and being in love.

So Sehun needs more time, even if the calendar tells him that he’s run out.

At first, he thinks to say that he’s fallen ill, but realizes that will only make them worry. He gives it some thought, and eventually tells them that Jongin’s invited him to a party with some other models. He spends a long time trying to craft the message, and sits with his hands clasped together over the table, dreading their reply.

A minute goes by, and he thinks to text Jongin to find out if there’s actually a party he can attend. It would help get his mind off things, at least.

“Sure,” Jongin replies, “if you can be in Osaka by seven, I’ll get you an invite.”

Sehun groans, hitting his head against the coffee table. Ten minutes later, there are two new messages on his phone.

“I’ll miss you, Sehunnie! Happy Christmas!”  

“Okay :( have fun! Please call if you need a ride home, be safe!”

The white ceiling burns into Sehun’s vision, long after his eyes have shut.

❄

At a quarter to six, sufficiently wrung out, Sehun ends up wandering over to the café, entertaining thoughts of hiding beneath the cash register and chatting with Hyunsik, or whoever is on shift. Even if it is a lonely Christmas Eve, he’d rather not be alone for it.

He makes it to his destination holding onto two bubble teas that somehow found their way into his hands, and reaches the crosswalk just in time to see Jongdae, with his scarf flapping in the wind, bound cheerfully into the store.

Sehun breathes in deeply, and stops in the middle of the crosswalk, staring at the door.

It was a stupid idea anyway.

A car honks him. Sehun’s torn between flipping the driver off and bursting into tears on the spot, but before he can do either, the window is rolled down and there are a pair of wide eyes looking at him

“Sehun, right?” The driver says. “Get in.”

❄

“Why do you always appear when Jongdae’s around,” Sehun whines, sinking into the passenger seat.

“That’s literally my job,” Minseok says, making sure Sehun’s strapped himself in before he pulls away from the curb again. “Can I drop you off somewhere?”

The address of Chanyeol’s apartment sits at the tip of Sehun’s tongue, and he has to take a long sip of bubble tea to swallow it.

“Do you want to go to a bar?” Sehun asks.

“What bar are you trying to get to?”

“No, I mean. Do you want to go drinking with me?”

It’s fortunate they’re at a red light, for Minseok stops to look at Sehun like he’s wondering who he is and how Sehun got into his car. Sehun wonders the same thing.

He hurriedly corrects himself. “Sorry, forget I said anything. You probably have other plans, you just dropped Jongdae off, you shouldn’t have to deal with his friends too—”

“I do have plans,” Minseok says. “But you’re welcome to join me, as long as you don’t complain about them.”

Sehun sits up, staring.

“My plans involve going home to prepare a warm dinner for myself, drinking the nice bottle of wine Jongdae got me for Christmas, then watching some old black-and-white movies from before you were born.”

“From… before you were born too, right?” Sehun guesses. The way Minseok looks at him, he’s suddenly not sure.

“If you’re backing out, I can still drop you off somewhere,” Minseok says, changing gears as the light turns green.

“I’m in,” Sehun says quickly. “I’ll be good company, I promise.”

“I hope you like cats,” Minseok says, “Because this is a party for three.”

❄

At Minseok’s house, Sehun immediately falls in love with the little cat. Tan reminds him a lot of both Jongdae and Baekhyun, small and tiny and playful. Sehun barely helps to set the table before being chased out of the kitchen by Minseok, who wants to cook in peace, so Sehun spends an enjoyable thirty minutes on the recliner with Tan before the food’s ready.

Minseok’s dinner nearly rivals Kyungsoo’s cooking, and Sehun laughs aloud. Jongdae will certainly never go hungry, Sehun thinks. He’s gone from one good cook to another.

There aren’t any decorations up. Minseok claims that he’s not home often enough to enjoy it, and as they settle onto the couch after dinner, it feels like any other ordinary night at a friend’s place.

As promised, Minseok puts on one of his black-and-white movies, of which he has a whole collection of. He’d get along with Kyungsoo quite well, and Sehun pauses to wonder if the similarities had made Jongdae happy or sad, at the beginning.

Then of course, once he’s thought of Jongdae and Kyungsoo, he thinks of Baekhyun and Chanyeol, too. Wonders if they’re having dinner at home, or if Chanyeol has convinced Baekhyun to dress nice and go to a fancy restaurant for once.

He hopes they’re having fun, that they’re not thinking of Sehun at all.

Minseok tosses a kitten into Sehun’s lap, effectively drawing him out of his thoughts. “What’s going on with you, Sehun? Jongdae always speaks so fondly of you, why aren’t you with your friends tonight?”

Minseok probably doesn’t mean for that to hurt as much as it does.

Sehun tickles Tan’s soft ears, not looking at Minseok.

“I told them I couldn’t make it,” Sehun says.

Minseok frowns. Sehun doesn’t want his pity, is ready to be defensive, but Minseok doesn’t speak. Instead, he waves a hand towards the kitchen.

“Go get the bottle I left on the table.”

Sehun goes, grateful for the moment alone to compose himself. The shiny pink bottle of wine sits of the counter, waiting patiently to be picked up.

He returns to Minseok with the bottle, and refills both their glasses.

“Would you have spent tonight with Jongdae? Christmas eve?” Sehun asks.

Minseok tilts his head in a way that means a quiet yes.

Sehun feels guilty. “I’m sorry we took him away from you.”

“I’m not,” Minseok says. “You make him happy. Kyungsoo is good for him.”

“Yeah,” Sehun agrees. “You’re good for him, too.”

Minseok opens his mouth, seemingly to protest, but in the end he says, “Yeah, I like to think I am.”

“I think,” Minseok says, “And bear in mind that I don’t know any of you very well, but I think that you’re good for your friends too, in whatever way you want to look at it.”

He isn’t wrong.

They’re a good match, all five of them, but it’s part of what makes everything so difficult. They’re good together, but even a perfect puzzle won’t hold if the pieces are fit wrongly. Sehun worries, sometimes, that the way they were before was the only way they would fit.

“We’ll see,” Sehun says, hiding behind the rim of his glass.

One way or another, it looks like they will.

❄

Sehun wakes up in a dense fog, not recognizing the room around him. His phone has run out of battery in the night, and Sehun pokes around in the darkness until he gets the time from Minseok’s microwave.

It’s a few minutes after five in the morning. Sehun curls back up on the couch, pulling the blanket over his head. He barely remembers falling asleep the night before, and doesn’t know why he’s awake after drinking an entire bottle of wine with Minseok hours before.

Something squeaks and lands onto his pillow. It’s Tan, and Sehun carefully sits up again, letting the kitten take over his bed.

Even knowing that the battery is dead, Sehun tries his phone again.

He thinks through the events of the day before, and suddenly feels sick. If it weren’t for Minseok, there was no saying where Sehun would have ended up. His phone feels heavy in his hands, and Sehun wonders if anyone had looked for him last night, wonders if he wishes someone had.

He tiptoes to the kitchen and leaves a note for Minseok on the refrigerator door, folding the blanket up neatly beside his pillow, before kissing Tan’s fluffy head goodbye. When the door to Minseok’s apartment clicks shut behind him, he shivers from more than the cold.

Despite how little Sehun’s brain wants to register these things, it doesn’t escape him that he’s somehow managed to make some new friends this month. How lucky he’s been for it.

He doesn’t run into a single person on his way to the station, and his train compartment consists only of two snoozing girls, their glittery purses being used as pillows.

The sky is still completely dark, and the walk home feels oddly foreign, like he’s dreaming the entire thing. He unlocks the door to his apartment, pausing with his hand on the knob when he sees someone is inside.

The television buzzing with static, and Junmyeon is fast asleep on the couch, Sehun’s blanket borrowed from his bed. Sehun’s not sure what Junmyeon’s doing home.

He tries to be quiet, but Junmyeon stirs when he’s locking the door behind him. By the time he removes his shoes and stands, Junmyeon is there, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“You’re home,” Junmyeon says. “Baekhyun called me yesterday night, looking for you. Is everything okay?”

Sehun bites down on his lower lip.

“I was staying with a friend,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

Junmyeon checks Sehun up and down. Sehun’s blanket is wound tightly around him so it won’t touch the floor. He looks funny, like an oversized kid in a cheap costume.

“I came back to see if you were home,” Junmyeon says, and suddenly nothing is funny anymore.

“You what?” Sehun says. “But didn’t you have a fancy dinner—”

“I came after dinner,” Junmyeon interrupts, pushing Sehun onto the couch. “Don’t panic.”

Sehun isn’t panicking. He feels ill. Junmyeon had gone for a lovely dinner, ready to celebrate Christmas day with his fiancé afterwards, but instead had come home to an empty apartment because he’d been worried about Sehun.

“Who were you with?” Junmyeon asks. “You weren’t with Baekhyun, if he was looking for you.”

“I ran into Jongdae’s manager and decided to keep him company,” Sehun lies.

He knows at once it’s the wrong thing to say. He hasn’t lied to Junmyeon once in all the years of their friendship, then spent the whole night making bad decisions, one after another.

Junmyeon sees right through him anyway. He sits beside Sehun, resting his hand on Sehun’s back. Sehun shakes it off, and the action hurts him more than it does Junmyeon. He turns to apologize, but Junmyeon beats him to it.

He’s still smiling, but his eyes are sad.

“I guess you’ve been a little lonely, huh?” Junmyeon says. “I’m really sorry, Sehun.”

Something flares up inside Sehun. It isn’t anger, but it’s somewhere close.

“I’m not your child,” Sehun says. He’s angry with himself, most of all. Even though he’s trying his best, all he’s done is caused trouble. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, you don’t have to coddle me.”

“You’re my friend,” Junmyeon says with a note of finality. He scoots closer, wrapping an arm around Sehun. In the process of looking everywhere apart from Junmyeon, Sehun spots a postcard on the table.

Junmyeon’s eyes follow his gaze, and he quickly puts it away.

“Sorry. I know yours hasn’t arrived yet. I spoke to Yixing on the phone a few days ago.”

Sehun shakes his head. It takes a moment before he finds his voice.

“It was at Baekhyun’s. Yixing addressed it to their place by mistake,” Sehun says. His head feels heavy, down to his toes.

Junmyeon’s brows furrow. “What’s going on, Sehun? Yixing said you mentioned going to visit him once your lease expired. That sounded a little off, to be honest. It sounded more like you were going to move there.”

“I’m not,” Sehun says. His fingers are trembling, and he tucks them under his thighs before Junmyeon can notice. “Don’t worry. Jongin already talked me out of it.”

“I wasn’t going to talk you out of it. I just don’t understand. I thought you’d be moving in with Chanyeol and Baekhyun.”

“Why?”

“Am I wrong?” Junmyeon asks, genuinely confused. “I thought it made the most sense.”

Sehun doesn’t answer.

Junmyeon lifts his arm from around Sehun, and it’s instantly cold. He tugs Sehun up, ushering him to the bedroom. At the door, Junmyeon’s hand finds Sehun again, and this time he doesn’t pretend that it’s unwelcome.

“Let’s go to bed. Sleep for a few hours, and we’ll talk more at breakfast. I can drop you off somewhere before I have to head out. Chanyeol’s? Or maybe Kyungsoo’s?”

“Kyungsoo and Jongdae are going to Siheung tomorrow,” Sehun says.

“Chanyeol’s it is then.”

Sehun flops uselessly over, weighing Junmyeon down with his upper body. Junmyeon indulges him for several seconds before escaping easily, giving Sehun a nudge with one knee.

“Hyung,” Sehun says.

Junmyeon flashes him a smile.

“Let me grab my pillow. I’ll be back.”

Every bone in his body aches, screaming for rest, and it should be easy to fall asleep. But now that he’s lying in stillness, his mind won’t stop racing.

The bed dips as Junmyeon sits, tucking his legs beneath the blanket.

Sehun asks the question before his brain can catch up and convince him it’s a bad idea.

“Hyung, how awake are you?”

“More or less up for the day, if you keep talking to me,” Junmyeon says. He flops down on his pillow and pokes Sehun in the back. “What’s up?”

“About that ride, can I ask you to drive me somewhere? Now?”

“You do know that it’s barely six in the morning, right?” Junmyeon asks. “Just checking.”

Sehun responds by climbing out of bed.

❄

Junmyeon drops him off at the front of the café with an unnecessarily wet kiss on the cheek, and Sehun lets him with minimal protest, knowing that the next time he sees Junmyeon will be on his wedding day.

“Let’s meet up again, after the wedding. Bring your boys. It’s time we all got to know each other properly.” Junmyeon says, and Sehun promises to.

He stands in the cold, waving until Junmyeon’s car is out of sight. The buzzer to Kyungsoo’s apartment is to the left of the coffee shop entrance, and Sehun presses it, kicking snow off his boots. A minute or two pass before he hears an electronic beep, and Kyungsoo pops up in the café, squinting at Sehun through the glass.

“Oh Sehun, it is six a.m. on the one day of the week I don’t have to be awake at this hour, how may I possibly be of service,” Kyungsoo says, opening the door to let Sehun shuffle in. He’s in candy-cane patterned pajama bottoms, his heavy coat wrapped around him like a shawl.

Sehun feels like he’s both wide-awake and asleep at the same time. The leftover alcohol from Minseok’s is still burning its way through Sehun’s body, and it’s both that and the lack of sleep that causes Sehun to say what he does next.

“I think I’m going home for a couple of days.”

“You… think?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I am. I want to. Can you spare me?”

“It looks like I’m going to have to,” Kyungsoo says. He sizes Sehun up. “If you’re sure, don’t worry about the café. Baekhyun has the numbers of the few kids that helped out last time, at least one of them will be able to come in.”

The door leading to the stairwell opens, and Jongdae emerges, hair tousled from sleep. He stops behind Kyungsoo, resting his chin on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. His sleeves, peeking out from an oversized hoodie, are the exact same pattern as Kyungsoo’s pants.

“What’s going on?”

“Sehun’s having a crisis,” Kyungsoo says. “Give him a hug.”

Jongdae obediently stands on his tiptoes to hug Sehun.

“What’s this crisis about? Baekhyunnie’s having a crisis too, you can mope together,” Jongdae says, before his eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh, nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

Kyungsoo gives Jongdae a disappointed look, swatting him back up the stairs.

“What time is your bus?” Kyungsoo asks.

“I haven’t bought tickets. I’ll just get the first one out from the station,” Sehun says. Jongdae’s curls hit Kyungsoo in the face as he pulls back.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going home for a few days. Don’t go anywhere until I get back, okay?”

Jongdae smiles. He looks so happy, and it makes Sehun smile too. “I’ll be here for awhile, don’t worry.”

“Go upstairs before someone sees you,” Kyungsoo says. “You’re in my pajamas.”

Jongdae ignores him and gives Sehun another hug. This time, he doesn’t let go.

“You should say goodbye to Chanyeol and Baekhyun before you go. Don’t hurt them just because you’re hurting,” He whispers. “It’ll be okay, Sehunnie.”

Sehun squeezes Jongdae maybe a little tighter than necessary.

Sehun hopes so.

He really does hope so.

❄

When Sehun was young, he used to think early mornings were magic. A time meant for grown-ups, for people who knew what they were doing and had to get up early enough to do it. Now that he’s older, he realizes that he never knows what he’s doing at any time of the day, and especially not in the mornings.

Sehun finds Chanyeol dancing alone in the kitchen. He doesn’t hear Sehun come in, too busy eating leftover log cake and bopping cheerfully. He’s wearing his heavy-duty headphones, and Sehun thinks of shocking him, but decides to spare the neighbours Chanyeol’s inevitable scream.

He takes a few steps back and tries again, making sure he’s in Chanyeol line of sight when he approaches this time. Chanyeol jumps in surprise, but at least there’s no screaming involved.

Chanyeol thrives at night, like some creature of darkness that stepped right out of his game. “I couldn’t sleep,” he says sheepishly. “Come here and help me eat this. Baekhyun’s gotten really good at making cakes.”

He hadn’t even switched on the lights, and the only light in the kitchen emits from his phone screen, music playing soundless through his wireless headphones.

Sehun recognizes Jongdae’s album cover, and leans in to take a peek. It’s one of Jongdae’s more upbeat songs, and Chanyeol jabs a fork into Sehun’s arm before he can dwell on it.

“Eat,” he orders, and Sehun takes a seat at the kitchen island. He digs into the cake, and a few chocolate curls tumble onto the table.

“Did you have a good Christmas Eve?” Chanyeol asks.

Last night feels like it was years ago. Sehun remembers just in time that he was supposed to be at Jongin’s party. “Yeah, uh. Jongin introduced me to a bunch of people. It was great. What did you two get up to?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “Not much. Baekhyun’s ankle was hurting, and he wanted to stay home to play video games, so we did. I made our characters wear Christmas hats.”

He takes another mouthful of cake, and around it, asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going home for a couple of days. Home, home,” Sehun clarifies. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

Sehun doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone, but if nothing else, he wants to end the year on a good note between them.

Chanyeol frowns. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Sehun’s quick to assure him. “I miss my family. I’ve been kind of homesick.”

“If you’re sure,” Chanyeol says, brows knitted.

“I’m going to talk to Baekhyun,” Sehun says, and escapes before he accidentally tells Chanyeol he loves him.

Baekhyun is asleep, as one should be, so there’s no talking to be done. Sehun leans in to hug him, and he stirs, clinging to Sehun’s arm like he’s about to take a bite, like he’d been dreaming of food. He might have been.

“Sehun? Are you back from Osaka?” Baekhyun asks drowsily, and Sehun’s blood runs cold, his head jerking around.

Chanyeol’s standing by the doorway. “Uh, it’s an inside joke,” He says awkwardly. “I, um, follow Jongin on instagram. Funny, huh? Ha, ha— I gotta go.”

“You knew I was lying?” Sehun asks, and Chanyeol freezes at the door, back still turned.

“Not at first,” Chanyeol says quietly. “We thought it was good for you to meet more models instead of nobodies like us. But I was scrolling through the stories after dinner, and Jongin’s came up. I wasn’t trying to check up on you or anything. I’ve been following him for awhile, now. I like his pictures.”

Sehun closes his eyes.

Baekhyun’s still sleeping, unaware of the chaos he’s caused.

“What’s going on, Sehun?” Chanyeol says.

“I’ve been wanting to ask something—” Sehun cuts himself off before the waver in his voice gives him away.

Chanyeol takes a few steps back into the room, closing the distance between them.

“Please,” Chanyeol whispers, and his hand rests against Sehun’s wrist. “Ask.”

Sehun nearly tells him no, they have to wait for Baekhyun to wake up, to give him a few more days to think about it, but the gentle pleading of Chanyeol’s voice makes his chest burn.

“I wanted to move in,” He says, and then his voice does crack. “My lease is ending in a few weeks and I’ve been wanting to ask for just as long. But you and Baekhyun happened, then us happened. And I love you, but I don’t want to move in and ruin you.”

Sehun drops to the foot of the bed. Chanyeol’s kneeling beside Sehun in an instant, his warm hands squeezing Sehun’s back briefly before sweeping Sehun into a tight hug.

“Kyungsoo offered me a place to stay,” Sehun says, tracing over the conversation an hour ago. “So this isn’t desperation.”

Sehun thinks of Jongdae, in his candy-cane pajamas, and his eyelids burn with tears. They all knew, that despite his reappearance, Jongdae wasn’t going to be around forever. He’d come and go, but in the end, Kyungsoo wouldn’t give him up for the world. And he would grow into the four walls of Kyungsoo’s home above the coffee shop, where he belonged.

When Sehun allows himself to be optimistic, he thinks that in the empty room Jongdae left behind, maybe Sehun could find a new place to belong too.

“I’m asking because I want to move in,” Sehun says. “And I want to move in because I love you both.”

Baekhyun’s tugging him up onto the bed, and within seconds they’ve boxed him in from both sides. Sehun’s palm feels hot against his eyelids.

“We love you too,” Baekhyun says, gently prying Sehun’s fingers away from his face. The kiss he presses to Sehun’s temple is scorching.

“Funny you asked,” Chanyeol says, even though nothing about the situation is remotely hilarious. He tugs Sehun up, urging him to stand.

They follow him to the fireplace. There’s a small silver box on the mantelpiece, tied up with red ribbon twice its size.

“I didn’t get you a present,” Sehun says, watching Baekhyun pick it up.

Chanyeol shakes his head. “It’s not really a Christmas present. The timing just worked out this way.”

Baekhyun’s slim fingers push the gift into Sehun’s palm.

“Open it.”

Sehun does, keenly aware that both Baekhyun and Chanyeol are watching his every move. The box feels light as Sehun works to undo the red ribbon, letting it pool to the ground by their feet. He lifts the lid off the box.

Inside is a key.

“We wanted to give it to you earlier,” Baekhyun says, “But you've been avoiding us all month. We didn’t know if you were getting angry or tired, or something else. We didn’t want you to feel like you had to take it.”

Sehun chokes out a laugh, shocked.

“I don’t know why we never gave you one,” Chanyeol adds. “You could have just taken the one in the flowerpot. We called it the spare key, but it was yours.”

It was.

Kyungsoo rarely dropped by unannounced anymore, and it’s Sehun who has used it the most all these years. Maybe the only person who’s used it at all.

“Thank you,” Sehun murmurs.

All at once, the drive to Chanyeol’s presentation hall comes back to him, the anxious twenty-minute cab ride to the college, laden with the certainty that he’d ruined their friendships for good. Nine times out of ten, Sehun may end up believing the worst, but Chanyeol and Baekhyun will always be some of the best people he’s ever met.

Whatever fears of the future Sehun holds, when he closes his fingers over the key, they melt away like sand. Sehun can worry all he wants about the ending, but this he knows for sure: none of them would ever intentionally do anything to hurt the other.  They'll work for this, together, and if Sehun has faith in that, he thinks maybe the future won't be so scary after all.

“I’m still going home,” Sehun admits. He hasn’t stopped feeling like he’s swimming— the water are calmer now, but he isn’t out yet. “It’ll be good for me. My head’s been a mess.”

“I’m glad you asked before you left,” Chanyeol says, and it nearly sets Sehun off again, because he’s glad too. So, so glad.

“We’ll drive you to the station,” Chanyeol says.

“Road trip,” Baekhyun hums, and Sehun’s heart sings, let your heart be light.

❄

“Unbelievable,” Jongin says. “You spend the entire month worrying that you’re losing all your friends, and now you have two boyfriends. Tell me more about how miserable your life is, Oh Sehun.”

“Don’t be rude,” Sehun complains.

Jongin shifts, and Sehun’s faced with his knee for a couple of seconds before he picks up the phone again. “Truly a Christmas miracle.”

“You’re a Christmas miracle,” Sehun grumbles. “I was really worried, okay?”

Jongin’s smile is blinding even through the screen. When he speaks again, the teasing lilt it gone. “Hey, I know, and I’m happy for you. This year is ending well for the both of us, isn’t it?”

Sehun laughs, and it rings loudly in the room. Sehun hears it through his own ears, and sinks into his pillows, mind clearer than it’s been in a long time. Barely sixteen hours ago Sehun had been an utter mess, and now he’s back in his family home, lying in his childhood bedroom and feeling lighter than before. It’s been a rollercoaster of a month, and Sehun’s glad he’s made it through.

“Please don’t fly off until you meet Chanyeol-hyung,” Sehun says. “He’s such a fan. It’s your fault, by the way, Kim Jongin. Why’d you have to post everything on instagram, huh?”

“You’re welcome,” Jongin singsongs.

“I can’t believe it was a stupid lie that ended up solving this disaster of a month,” Sehun sighs, reaching over his head and tugging down one of his stuffed toys, lined up on the headboard. He’d texted Minseok on the bus ride home, thanking him for the company and telling him, with many heart-shaped emojis, that things were getting better.

“It was your friendship that solved this disaster,” Jongin corrects.

“The power of friendship,” Sehun says. He sits up. “Ugh, I feel so sappy. I hate it.”

Someone walks past outside the door, and Sehun falls silent, waiting for them to pass. Jongin’s flying back from Japan the next morning, and in a few weeks’ time he’ll be off to a new country. Sehun’s thankful Jongin showed up when he did. He was joking, earlier, but he’s beginning to think Jongin might be some sort of winter guardian. Minseok too.

Sehun’s surrounded by good people, and it makes him feel warm.

“Don’t forget it,” Jongin says, when Sehun voices the thought aloud. “I don't care if I'm halfway around the globe, I expect you to call me if you have another crisis.”

Sehun rolls his eyes.

He’ll deal with it when the time comes. For now, he’s content.

❄

Sehun rings in the new year with his family, his aunts and uncles and tiny cousins running about the house, the whole group heading down to the town center about twenty minutes before midnight. The celebration is a noisy one, but Sehun manages to sneak off to catch a few minutes of the livestream Baekhyun’s doing on his channel.

He sends the groupchat a screenshot, and his phone buzzes in reply moments later. It’s Chanyeol; Baekhyun doesn’t keep his phone with him when he’s filming. Even without checking it, Sehun feels a smile break across his face.

The fireworks seem particularly pretty that year.

Early the next morning, Sehun catches the first bus back. His parents send him off with tight hugs, glad to have seen him, even if it was only because of Sehun’s near breakdown.

He hasn’t told them much, but one day he will. They’ve met all his friends, but Sehun thinks maybe this year he’ll try to do more together. Family has always been important to Sehun, whether the ones by blood or by choice.

He considers going straight to Chanyeol’s, wanting nothing more than to see them, but in the end, decides to head home one more time.

In the early hours of morning, the sunlight is gentle in the apartment. Sehun lets himself in and puts his bags down by the entrance, looking around to take in the room. Junmyeon’s boxes are already gone, and in a few days, Sehun will have packed away the last of his things, too.

In his bedroom, only the bare essentials remain. Sehun takes a hot shower and climbs into bed, and this time, when he stares up at the now-familiar ceiling, he feels a sense of peace.

Thank you, he thinks, closing his eyes.

It’s served him well.

❄

The empty flowerpot by the front door gives Sehun a baleful look as he reaches for his keys and lets himself in, and Sehun promises to come next time with a fresh shrub of some kind.

The apartment is in disarray, props and party hats from Baekhyun’s new year livestream still strewn across the living room. The light in Chanyeol’s bedroom is on, Baekhyun’s voice singing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs, while Chanyeol’s shadow flits across the wall.

Sehun picks up one of the party hats and puts it on, smiling as he catches sight of his reflection in the refrigerator door. He’s occupied with fixing the stripey cone hat and doesn’t see the pan of confetti until it’s too late.

It goes down in a puff of glitter, hitting every surface in its descent before finally reaching the ground with a resounding clang.

The singing in the bedroom abruptly goes quiet.

There’s a brief pause, and Sehun lingers guiltily by the kitchen island.

“Whoever just broke into the apartment, please leave,” Chanyeol calls. “It’s the first day of the new year, and you can’t let my year start out this way. I had high hopes.”

Sehun stifles a laugh.

He has high hopes, too.

❄

“Hurry up!”

It’s only been open for an hour, but Oasis is brimming with customers. Red and gold balloons sway back and forth in the wind, tied down by the chalkboard that’s been erased and rewritten sometime in the night. It’s Baekhyun’s handwriting, loopy and cheerful.

OPENING DAY : WE DID IT!
Same taste, same place, same people.
Only the names on the deed are different now.

Congratulate us when you see us!
Happy New Year!

Sehun steps into the store, Chanyeol lingering behind him to take a photo of the sign and the balloons. He turns to their table on autopilot, stopping several feet away.

Chanyeol walks into his back.

There’s a young couple sitting at their table, two heads bent over to peruse something on a phone.

“Jongin’s joining us,” Sehun says, turning around to look at Chanyeol.

They’re not going to fit.

He watches in slow-motion as a table of customers get up from one of the booths by the window, and takes a hesitant step towards it. Fresh snow plasters against the glass, engulfing the painted-on snowflakes they’d put up exactly a month ago.

The door swings open, and Jongdae’s smiling face greets them, his feet skidding into the store with snowy boots.

“Kim Jongdae!” Kyungsoo says sternly, coming out of the kitchen door just in time to see the mess. Baekhyun’s with him, carrying the scent of burnt sugar and dark coffee.

“Where’s your manager?” Baekhyun asks, as Jongdae joins them on the floor.

Jongdae ducks and looks over his shoulder, as if expecting to find Minseok looming there. He scoots over to the nearest window and wipes the condensation clean with his sleeve so he can look out it.

“He’s parking the car. Quick, Kyungsoo, make a cup of the nicest coffee you can, so he won’t take me away just yet.”

Kyungsoo ignores Jongdae, putting a hand against Sehun’s back. "If you want to wait, the table will be leaving soon, I think. They’ve been here awhile.”

Sehun glances at the small round table in the corner, their lucky spot. A wishing table, where so many good things have happened. They’d been sitting there the first time Sehun received an editorial offer from a big brand, when Baekhyun hit his five-hundred-thousand subscribers mark, when Chanyeol submitted his third resignation letter and said, “I think I’m going to try making games.”

It’s where Kyungsoo sat all those years ago, interviewing for the position of patisserie; where Jongdae had sat for hours, writing songs that the world would one day know.

He looks towards the empty booth by the window again.

Sehun hopes it won't be too cold, that the people on the road won't stare at them when they pass by, and the music from the speakers right overhead won’t be too loud. The floor is warm though, and the light fixture hasn’t been spared Baekhyun’s mistletoe. Most importantly, it’ll fit the people he cares about, the ones who have come with him to this point, the ones Sehun wants to take with him for a long time.

“Let them have it,” Sehun says. Maybe it’s time to share that luck with someone else.

Certain now, he heads for the booth and slides in, with plenty of room for the new year and the good things yet to come.