Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s a frigid, unusually freezing winter afternoon, the one that might bring another layer of snow the following day, and Minho doesn’t know why he’s still waiting for his friends in that damned cafe. 

With Jisung, meetings are unpredictable. He either shows up half an hour late or two hours early; nothing in between. Minho never knows what to expect. But he should have figured that with Hyunjin tagging along this time, he’ll be waiting, and waiting, and waiting. 

He stands up from his usual seat by the window, almost knocking down the flower vase off the table. Not bothering to check if anyone’s noticed, with a sheepish smile he walks back to the register to buy himself another drink.

Minho wanted to be nice, buy his friends overpriced drinks but if they’re showing up late, they can forget about his generosity. 

This time Minho gives in to all the Christmas specials and orders a cinnamon latte, hoping to warm his hands and whole body up with a hot drink. And get himself in the mood for holidays with a special limited edition beverage. (It doesn’t work.) 

It’s when he’s walking back to his table that he notices Hyunjin waving at him eagerly from behind the glass doors. He pushes them open; doesn’t bother to check if Jisung isn’t getting smacked in the face when they’re closing. 

Minho cocks his head to the side and crosses arms over his chest. Hyunjin actually looks apologetic for being late; Jisung just plops down on the chair with a huff and grabs Minho’s drink, taking a large sip through the straw. 

“Hmm… this is good. Is it the cinnamon one?” he asks. Minho shares a knowing look with Hyunjin as they notice the whipped cream in the corner of Jisung’s lips and they agree to leave him in the dark about it without a single word. 

“I’ll go order,” Hyunjin sighs but a smile lingers on his lips.

Jisung calls out after him, something like ‘Thank you, baby’ but Minho is too busy scrolling through his phone to care.

“My next drink is definitely on you,” he says when Jisung shamelessly takes another sip out of his cup. He doesn’t have to lift his eyes from the screen to know Jisung is pulling a face at him; Minho aims a kick under the table and grins in satisfaction when his precious friend yelps in pain. 

“You’re insufferable,” Jisung huffs again but changes his demeanor as Hyunjin sits back down, setting two drinks on the table.

Minho watches him flutter his eyelashes, not really sure if Jisung’s just trying to worm his way out of paying for his drink or if he’s flirting. Maybe both. He’ll most likely never know. 

“Oh, by the way!” Jisung exclaims, slapping his hand on the table with an enthusiastic grin. “The party — you know — the one at Chenle’s right before Christmas — ” Minho groans. Jisung ignores him and continues his happy babble. “This time I’m making you go, you get it? It will be fun and you can take a break from studies — It’s a great idea.”

It’s not a great idea. 

Minho would much rather stay at his cozy apartment, get a gallon of ice cream on sale from the convenience store nearby, cuddle his cat and immerse himself in stupid holiday-themed rom-coms until he passes out. 

A party doesn’t hold a candle up to a lovely night with the only creature he cares about. 

“Come on!” Minho switches his gaze to Hyunjin, expecting some help but his friend is looking at him with the same stubbornness as Jisung. “If not for the friends and free drinks, then for the free food ! How good does that sound, huh?” Minho hates the way Jisung’s lips curl up in a smirk. He absolutely despises it. “Or — for the possibility of someone smooching you under the mistletoe! It’s really high. You’re so, so handsome, baby!” 

Minho deadpans. Jisung’s smile gets even wider; he knows he’s winning. 

“And, you know, Felix will be there.” 

Minho has heard a lot about Felix. 

Mostly because Jisung just never shuts up about how lovely he is. ‘Oh, Felix saw me walking in the rain and gave me a ride back home.’ ‘Felix brought brownies today.’ ‘Felix sent me notes from class I missed because I was dying from the flu.’ 

Apparently, this Felix is an angel. Minho can’t help the slight curiosity but at the same time wonders if it isn’t all faux. If he isn’t a horrible person, hiding behind all good deeds. It’s not Minho’s fault that he’s so skeptical about everyone. These days everyone should be careful. 

His interest is too piqued, though.

So, Minho nods hesitantly. Jisung breaks into a large smile; he tries to high-five Hyunjin but the boy just turns away, sipping on his drink. Despite this, by the slight curl of his lips that he’s trying to mask so hard, Minho can tell he’s just teasing. 

“This calls for a celebration,” Jisung proceeds to say and stands up to go to the register. Minho sees him point to something on the display and in no time he’s coming back to the table with blueberry cheesecake.

Minho rolls his eyes but with no real annoyance to it. “If we’re celebrating me coming to a party then I think I should get the first bite, hmm?”

Jisung huffs his cheeks out and nods, pushing the plate further into Minho’s space. He must really want him to come, if he’s letting Minho get the first bite, knowing well it won’t end just on that one. 

Minho hums with the cheesecake in his mouth. It leaves a sweet taste lingering on his tongue but he drowns it with another sip of latte and pushes the plate back to Jisung. 

They keep chatting for much longer, until Hyunjin’s phone goes off with a call and he curses under his breath. 

“Sorry, I gotta go. Got photography in like… ten minutes,” he says, gathering his coat from the back of his chair. “We should hang out soon! Just — text me!” He sends them a sheepish smile and mumbles something about being forgetful before running off with a single wave over his shoulder. 

When Minho and Jisung part, the younger eyes him with a stern face, trying to make an impression. Minho watches him with amusement but as Jisung wags his finger at him, he at least does his best to pretend he’s affected. 

“You have to come,” Jisung orders, as if sensing that Minho is already thinking of thousands of excuses if he ends up changing his mind. Then, his voice softens. “But if you really don’t wanna, then it’s cool. Just — It’d be fun if you came.” 

“Not gonna lie, you convinced me with the food,” Minho teases, playfully pushing Jisung’s shoulder. “Just send me the details and I’ll be there.”

Jisung’s face lights up with a smile when he nods. Then, he’s off with a wave and Minho stays there in front of the cafe for a moment. Takes a deep breath of cool air and shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat, walking towards his apartment. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Minho is drowning in a pre-holiday-break sea of homework so he doesn’t get to think of the party until the alarm wakes him up at nine and — as his eyes travel to the date visible on his lock screen — he’s reminded of Jisung’s message from a few nights before. 

He groans, rolling down on his stomach, hoping to knock himself out and sleep through the party. It’s not like he doesn’t want to go — Minho has just developed a habit of adding a little dramatic flair to spice his life up. 

He’s reminded of Doongie sleeping in the legs of his bed when he hears a purr and then there’s a cat settling on his back. Nice. 

Minho smiles into the pillow. He tries to maneuver himself into a better position but Doongie digs his claws into his back; delicate but with a warning. Minho huffs and murmurs under his breath, something about the cat wearing the pants in this household. He decides that a little bit more sleep has never hurt anyone, closes his eyes shut and eases into a light, gentle dream. 

He wakes up when Doongie starts meowing right into his ear. Groaning, he sets him down on the floor and pushes the covers to the side. The yellow socks protect his feet from the cold floor but the chilly air coming through the cracked kitchen window sends shivers down his spine. 

Doongie brushes his head over Minho’s hand in gratitude as he’s pouring cat food into the bowl. 

“I’m gonna spill it if you keep pushing my hand like this, you dummy,” Minho scolds him but a smile settles on his face as he stands up to close the window. 

It’s the 21st of December and Minho is doing alright. It’s the only reason why he confirms that he’s joining Jisung and Hyunjin that evening and — even after sending the text — the mild happiness doesn’t fade. 

He’s not happy enough to cook a fresh meal just for himself so he settles on the leftovers in his fridge and puts an animal documentary on Netflix. It’s interesting enough for him to leave on even after he finishes eating but after a few episodes, he finds himself getting bored. 

Minho knows that, during this season, there’s nothing else to watch but Christmas movies. So, without anything better to do, he puts on the first rom-com in the category and prepares for the sickening amount of cringe. 

He watches as the couple of strangers gets tangled in a mess of everything with a single kiss under the mistletoe on a party. The woman finds out the man has dated her best friend in high school and — somehow — it makes him totally unavailable for her. 

The movie would last twenty minutes if only they didn’t include the unnecessary yearning and angst that could’ve been resolved in a second if the characters had the ability to communicate. 

As it ends with the couple sharing a heartfelt kiss on the New Year’s Eve, Minho considers throwing his TV out through the window. He got exactly what he expected; he brought it upon himself and therefore can’t really complain. 

It’s only when Minho steals a glance at his phone that he realizes it’s nearing six in the afternoon. He turns off the TV and makes sure Doongi is sleeping soundly in the tower before heading straight to the bathroom. He plugs his phone into the charger that’s still there since this morning, strips from his clothes and hops into the shower. 

It’s hot and relieving how water washes over his skin.

He doesn’t waste much time and water, quickly pouring the shea butter gel onto his hand and massaging his sore body. He’s had a hard week; it’s not something he can hide. Yet, it’s refreshing, finally being able to lose himself as the hot water turns into steam and embraces him whole. 

Minho steps out, feeling like a baby. He wipes the mirror with his hand and smiles to himself in encouragement for what’s to come this evening.

To Minho being nice to himself is important. Treating himself with patience and taking a step back from situations that don’t feel right. Even if it’s just smiling to himself, blasting his favorite song on the speakers, going on a random jog in the park, buying the overpriced coffee because it just tastes good. 

It takes a lot of time and effort to learn how to treat yourself the way you truly deserve it but even when it becomes a routine, the incredible feeling doesn’t fade. 

Minho figures everyone might be coming to the party dressed up in ugly christmas sweaters and colorful socks but — as he’s standing in front of his closet with a towel wrapped around his hips — he can’t find anything that might fit the aesthetic. He shrugs, not really giving it much thought. Grabbing a pair of black trousers and a red, silk shirt from the hanger, he throws them onto his bed; figures it has to work. 

Minho dives into the depths of his drawer to find the obnoxious, red socks with little christmas trees all over that Hyunjin has gifted him last year. He rips the package open and puts the socks on. They’re soft and comfortable and it’s the only reason why he’s wearing them. They don’t match with the rest of his outfit and — even if they are a little bit cute, he must admit — actually look ridiculous paired with his low-neck silk shirt. 

He laughs at himself in the mirror and even poses for Doongie (who goes back to sleep, purring; as if to say, ‘You look so horrendous that not even I want to look’). Somehow, it makes him laugh even harder and the smile lingers on his lips even when he’s climbing onto the backseat of Hyunjin’s car. 

“Ready to get wasted?” Jisung shouts from the passenger seat, while Minho fastens his seatbelt.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at him, driving out of the parking lot. “You can’t get wasted, dumbass. If you throw up all over my carpet like last time, I’ll literally strangle you.” 

Jisung lets out a sigh, leaning his head back on the headrest. “You’re so hot when you’re threatening my life, baby.”

Minho fakes a gag. He looks out the tinted window, deciding it’s better for his sanity to tune out his friends’ conversation. 

The city feels quite majestic at night. Millions of lights illuminating every corner, yet it remains mysterious. Everything blurs as Hyunjin presses the gas pedal and Minho lets himself close his eyes for a moment. The soft song playing on the radio (most likely from one of Hyunjin’s playlists) helps him relax further and — by the time they arrive at an apartment complex in the center — Minho doesn’t feel like leaving the car at all. 

Jisung giggles and grabs him by the hand to drag him into the lobby. Hyunjin locks the car, following them. They have to ride up to one of the higher floors; Minho gets dizzy and holds onto Hyunjin’s jacket for support. 

Someone opens the apartment door when Jisung rings the bell but Minho doesn’t recognize them. Hyunjin greets them with a hug, though, and before Minho knows, he’s already dragged into the small crowd that’s gathered in the spacious living room.

Fairy lights on the walls scatter the place with a golden hue. The Christmas tree is enormous, reaching up to the high ceiling with the star placed on the top. There are sofas, armchairs, puffs, white fluffy carpets. Some holiday themed songs are blasting through the speakers. It’s cozy. Much more than Minho expected. 

Jisung takes his hand after looking around the room. “Let’s get some drinks first, huh?” 

They head to the kitchen, Minho assumes, leaving Hyunjin on the makeshift dance floor as he’s their designated driver for the night. 

All kinds of snacks and drinks are sprawled across the counter. Minho eyes them, not really hiding that it’s basically what he came here for. Jisung chuckles, drops his hand and wanders around the island to find something to drink. 

“What do you fancy?”

Minho looks around, eyes catching sight of grapefruit juice. He nods in that direction. Jisung grabs two paper cups, pours some vodka into them and then fills the rest with juice. Minho grimaces at the bitter taste of alcohol. It lingers on his tongue, burning but after a moment, he doesn’t mind. 

“I haven’t seen Felix yet but he should be coming soon.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Why are you so fixed on introducing us?” 

“Duh! Because you two are just — so fucking cool. I think you could use a friend other than me or Hyunnie,” Jisung gestures, almost spilling his drink all over the floor and himself. “Let’s go, baby. This one,” he motions to Minho’s drink, “was just a warm up.” 

Minho groans internally; he knows Jisung will leave him alone as soon as he gets spotted by his other friends, dragged away to dance. It’s the only reason he’s willingly leaving the kitchen. 

Jisung spots someone just after opening the door to the living room. He yells a greeting, the person turning his way with a grin. “Come on, Minho!” he exclaims to the side, grabbing Minho’s hand again to drag him towards the stranger.

The person approaches too, meeting them halfway. Their eyes linger on Minho for a second too long, shamelessly staring with overwhelming curiosity. 

“Felix, this is Minho! Minho, this is Felix! You guys — Wow. I can’t believe you’re meeting just now.” Jisung grins, hands resting on his hips as he introduces them with excitement. 

Minho doesn’t know what to do so he sends the Felix a hand wave. Awkward. 

Felix reciprocates nonetheless, chuckling sweetly.

Minho inhales sharply. He takes a good look at the boy; immediately drawn to his face, he lowers his gaze, suddenly intimidated, and almost gasps at his adorable Christmas sweater. This is so unfair, Minho thinks. Christmas sweaters should be ugly and prickly; Felix’s is utterly devastating and absolutely soft. 

Felix notices him staring, of course. He giggles — giggles! — and happily exclaims, “Meowy Christmas!” 

Minho almost faints here and now. 

The sweater is red, with a cute black cat drawing in the middle and the pun phrase ‘Meowy Christmas’ in bold letters right over it. Minho would never wear it himself, not even if he got paid but Felix looks good in it. No one is supposed to look good in Christmas sweaters. 

Minho clears his throat, realizing that he hasn’t said a single word. “It’s cute.” 

Two words. Minho wants the Earth to swallow him whole. 

But Felix laughs because — apparently — he’s the exact same embodiment of sunshine that Jisung always described him as. That’s also why someone calls his name, asks for a dance. People are drawn to him. 

Felix sends them both a look, asking if they want to join him and his friends on the dance floor. Minho declines with a shake of his head but Jisung is the one to grin, extending his hand for Felix to grab. 

“You sure?” Felix asks Minho directly.

It’s not pressuring, light instead. That’s why Minho says “Maybe later” and he means it. 

Jisung sends him a look, knowing that his maybe usually means never but this time it’s different.

Minho watches them leave hand in hand, joining people he recognized from college across the room. This time, when he goes to the kitchen, it’s not empty. Someone is sitting by the counter, munching on some cookies. When they notice him, they smile. Minho feels invited. 

“Did you come here for the food, too?” they ask when he sits down on the stool next to them. 

Minho grows an instant liking for them. 

Yeeun, as they introduce themselves, keeps Minho company for most of the evening. Minho hardly ever feels lonely but he’s sure it’d get to that if he sat here alone for too long while everyone was having fun on the other side of the wall.

They chat about college and gossip about mutual professors until Yeeun is standing up with an apologetic look. 

“I gotta check if my girlfriend isn’t having too much fun without me,” they say with a grin, grabbing one last cookie from the counter and showing it into their mouth. “I’ll catch you somewhere, huh?”

Minho nods but they disappear too quickly to notice. He gulps down his drink, eyes focused on the flickering city lights outside. It’s not late, maybe around ten, but the sky is dark. Minho can’t see any stars; the lights mess up his vision a little. He jumps off the stool and walks closer to the window, leaning on the sill. 

He can hear the faint rustle of the city down below; people invisible in the dark from up high. Cars move down the road, horns blaring. From staring down for too long, Minho gets dizzy. 

He turns around and blinks, adjusting his eyes back to the light of the kitchen. This time he jumps onto the counter instead, legs dangling over the edge. He thinks he might go meet his friends soon; it’s getting boring. 

Minho eyes the counter, all the snacks, until his gaze settles on cookies that aren’t really anything near Christmas-themed. Cats, elephants, giraffes, hearts, flowers, stars and diamonds. All covered with pastel frosting, edible pearls and sprinkles. They look adorable, even. There’s a piece of paper stuck to the plate — “With nuts!! Don’t eat if you’re allergic!!”. Somehow it makes it even more endearing.

The cat head-shaped one calls him. Practically begs him to take a bite. And Minho is an easy man; he sees cute things and wants them. So he takes the cookie, looks for a moment at the pink frosting and takes a little bite. Just a little; if it’s disgusting, he can spit it out without feeling the taste on his tongue for the rest of the night. 

Minho humms, closing his eyes in pure delight. It’s delicious; sweet, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. Hazelnuts and caramel sugary on his tongue. He shoves the rest of the cookie into his watering mouth.

Who the fuck bakes cookies like these for some average college party? 

Minho swears he’s never eaten a more delectable biscuit in his entire twenty-two year old life. And that says a lot; the amount of coffee shops he’s frequented is enormous but this cookie — it beats the hell out of any other sweet that exists.

Well, maybe not — nothing comes close to panna cotta. But this adorable cat-shaped cookie gets second place. 

Fuck, Minho loves it so much, he takes another one from the plate. He expects the taste to get worse — maybe it was just that one cookie that tasted like heaven. To his utmost delight, it’s even better. He can’t really stop himself — he takes another, and another. 

Will anyone notice if he just takes the whole plate and leaves the party to enjoy them in the comfort of his own apartment?

Minho grabs one of the paper cups to pour himself a drink. He hears the door open; the sound of music getting louder for a split second before going back to muffled. He turns around, curious as to who has decided to join him. 

“Oh, hi!” Felix beams, immediately coming closer to the counter as he recognizes it’s Minho and not some random stranger sitting on the counter. He stands right next to Minho, looks up at him, lets the yellow halogens light up his face.

It’s then that Minho notices the little golden glitter spots glued to his cheeks, to his freckles. Good God.

Felix, of course, catches the look Minho gives him. He points a finger to his own face, mumbling, “Does it look weird?” 

“What? No — ! Did someone say that?” Minho blinks. He’s ready to jump off the counter right here and now, march into the living room and find the bastard that said something about Felix’s sweet glitter freckles and give them a lesson. 

Felix giggles. “No. You just — You’re staring.” 

Minho puffs out his cheeks and settles on a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah. You look super pretty.” 

Felix truly is the embodiment of sunshine, Minho realizes once again. His whole face lights up as his lips curl up in a grateful grin; Minho wants to soak up all the warmth he radiates. 

“You should try these cookies,” Felix says, pointing to one of the plates as he looks around the counter to find something for himself. “I made them and — not to brag — but they’re really good.” 

Minho follows his finger; at this point, he shouldn’t be surprised. If someone were to bake the most delicious cookies known to the human kind, it’s Felix. 

“I know. These are — They’re the best cookies in the entire fucking world,” Minho mutters. To prove his point, he grabs one of them — the heart-shaped one with blue frosting and little pearls all around the edges — and shoves it into his mouth. The pure bliss must show on his face because Felix throws his head back, giggling. 

Minho watches him, shameless, while munching on the cookie. He just can’t take his eyes off the boy next to him. Felix is so genuine, no wonder Minho is drawn. 

And, somehow, the fact that Felix can bake these cookies makes him even more attractive. 

He hums, looking around the counter once again as if Minho’s comment distracted him; he’s stopped giggling but a slight smile lingers on his lips. Finally making his mind up, he grabs the jug overflowing with orange juice and tries to pour some into the paper cup. It trips onto the counter, spilling the little amount of drink inside all over the island. 

“Fucking cup,” Felix mutters under his breath.

Minho can’t help but laugh at the curse flowing out of his mouth. Felix just shakes his head with a chuckle. The jug is too big for him so simultaneously pour the juice and keep the cup in place, so Minho gives him a hand. He holds the cup for him, earning a soft smile in return. And, even when his fingers get sticky from the juice dripping down the cup, Minho grins down at Felix like he’s having the time of his life. 

Felix sets the jug down where it was before and grabs the cup, careful not to spill any more. 

“I think I’ll be going back now,” he says with an apologetic look on his face. Minho bites back the disappointment and nods. Life of the party. “Do you wanna go with me?”

“I’ll stay for a little more. It’s… cozier here.” 

Felix takes a sip of his drink. Nods, starts walking towards the doors. Minho’s eyes don’t leave him not even for a second. 

“Well,” Felix grins at him, hand on the door handle. “You can join us anytime. Or me, alone. I’d ditch my friends to see you dance. Jisung mentioned you do.” 

Right. If Jisung talked to Minho about Felix, rambled about him until his mouth went dry, he had to do the same to Felix. Minho wonders if the boy’s already made up his mind on him. What does he think? 

Felix pushes the door open. The sound of pop music almost drowns his words but Minho’s focus is on him, he catches them right in time. 

“You’re free to eat all the cookies that are left.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, something more, but in the end decides against it and shakes his head lightly. Before he leaves, he sends Minho another heart-warming smile. 

Minho has to open the kitchen window. He can’t breathe. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Sitting alone in the kitchen and conversing with passing people gets too boring. Minho pours himself a drink, throws the used cup into the trash bin and leaves the kitchen. His head spins, not used to blinding, colorful lights so he blinks. Once, twice, until it gets bearable. 

Minho stands on the side, by one of the couches, trying to spot any of his friends. Not specifically Felix — they don’t know each other that well; at all, even. And, although Felix mentioned something about Minho joining him, he’s not exactly sure how serious he was about it.

Maybe he was just trying to be nice and Minho will make a fool out of himself if he approaches? 

He swallows. The bitter taste of vodka blended with grapefruit juice lingers on his tongue. Minho doesn’t move, tries to savour it, hoping what’s left of alcohol in his system will give him courage to step out of his comfortable little corner, into the crowd of people dancing. 

Someone grabs his arm. Minho turns around with a quizzical look that melts into something sweeter, something gentler when he sees it’s Felix. Now, without his Christmas sweater but in a black T-Shirt and sweat dripping down the exposed collarbones; Minho doesn’t know where to look. 

Apparently, he’s staring not where he should, because Felix jokes: “My eyes are up here!” 

Minho hates how his ears get scorching hot in a heartbeat.

He looks up, meeting Felix’s feline eyes. The younger boy doesn’t wait for Minho to respond to his comment, unfazed. 

“You finally came out!” he exclaims, voice a little louder to outshout the music. “I thought I missed you and that you’ve left, or something.” His hand travels up to Minho’s shoulder to smack it playfully, lingers a moment longer than it should. “I’d be upset if you didn’t dance with me before leaving.”

Is it too early to say that Minho is gone for this boy?

“I wouldn’t,” he replies, voice hoarse but Felix doesn’t seem to mind. He beams, taking a few steps back and holds out his hand. Minho envelops it with his own before he can think anything of it. 

It’s embarrassing how he almost trips over his own feet, how Felix’s smile grows even wider when he looks at Minho, how everything around seems to stop when Felix leads them into a cozy corner of the dance floor and wraps his arms around Minho’s neck. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. Minho barely hears him over the pop song blaring through the speakers. Instead of an answer, he comes closer, getting rid of the little space that was left between them.

Felix wanted to see him dance, wanted to see Minho in his element but this — swaying, not even to the rhythm of the song playing — isn’t really dancing. Minho doesn’t mind. Felix doesn’t seem to, either. 

It’s endearing, the way he keeps swinging from side to side, with an enormous grin on his lips, golden eyes never leaving Minho. 

Their hips collide as someone clumsily pushes Minho towards him. Instead of getting angry, he brings his hands to Felix’s back to stabilize him. Felix leans back, leaning into his touch, despite not having lost his balance.

The music thumps in Minho’s ears, rings unpleasantly, but Felix’s amused laughter as he stretches his hand to the side for Minho to spin and wrap himself right in his arms drowns out all the discomfort. 

Minho stops thinking about everything else. His hands move on their own over Felix’s body, pulling him closer and closer until their chests crash together and they begin to sway again to the beat of the music.

This time, with a softer song in the background, Minho manages to choke out what he wanted to say throughout the evening.

“You’re really pretty.”

Felix’s face lights up in a smile, and his eyes shine under the golden fairy lights. He opens his mouth, but before he can answer with anything, someone puts them both in a strong embrace, wrapping their strong arms around them, and, suddenly, Jisung’s head is between them. 

Felix seems unfazed at the new company; he grins and his hands slip from Minho’s neck to wrap around Jisung’s waist. Disappointment coils in his abdomen. 

“You two are having fun, I assume?” Jisung smirks, more in Minho’s direction than in Felix’s but it’s him that responds. 

“Yeah, Minho is great.”

The simplest of simple adjectives, yet still manages to make Minho’s mouth dry. He blinks, biting back the smile and nods, as if to say ‘Felix is great, too’. (There are heavier, more meaningful adjectives he can describe Felix with, though.)

“Well, do you wanna grab a drink with me and Hyunie now?” 

Felix sends him a look, making sure if Minho wants that, too. And when Minho shrugs, he says, “Why not?”

Minho thinks that’s it; that’s their night. After that drink, someone will snatch Felix from him and they will never see each other again. They’ve never crossed paths before, despite having mutual friends; Minho doesn’t know if he’s great enough for Felix to want to keep in touch. 

But then, as Jisung leads them towards the kitchen, where Hyunjin is probably waiting for them, Felix slips his hand into Minho’s, smiling up at him when Minho sends him a questioning look. 

“Don’t wanna get lost?” he jokes.

Internally, Minho feels everything burning. The way his fingers slot together with Felix’s sends shivers down his spine, makes him want to keep this feeling locked in a chest, safely hidden under his bed, for his eyes only. 

Minho squeezes his hand, just to get another squeeze in return. 

They push through the partygoers, following into the kitchen shortly after Jisung. 

Minho almost melts, embracing the chilly air in the room with a delighted sigh. The dance floor was unbearably hot, was it for Felix’s hands roaming all over his body or the mass of people dancing around them. 

Hyunjin is sitting by the counter, pouring himself a drink. “It’s only juice,” he announces, rolling his eyes when Jisung sniffs the cup. “Promise.” 

“Alright,” Jisung mumbles and jumps onto the stool next to him. Hyunjin’s hand steadies him on the back, shielding from a fall. Jisung cracks a smile and turns to Minho and Felix, standing on the other side of the counter, still awkwardly holding onto each other. “What do you guys want?” 

“Grapefruit,” they answer in unison. Looking at Felix in mild amusement, Minho smiles. 

Jisung raises his eyebrows, turning to Hyunjin with a knowing look. “Told ya,” he says but before Minho can dwell on what that means, two cups are slid across the counter and Felix drops his hand. “You should just drink from one cup, lovebirds.” 

“That’d be eco-friendly.” Felix nods in agreement. 

If Minho had no morals, he’d already have this boy pressed up against a wall somewhere in this apartment, away from prying eyes, just for himself. 

But Felix deserves more than that. He deserves much more than that. 

So Minho stays by his side, sips the grapefruit juice mixed with vodka and laughs at stupid things his friends say. He doesn’t register much and it’s quite embarrassing how all his attention is on Felix. 

His hand reaches over the counter to find that one specific plate, with the best cookies in the world but his fingers only get empty space. Felix must see his disappointment because he says “Told ya to eat them all!” and playfully punches Minho’s arm. 

Minho thinks. Minho thinks about how Felix’s hand lingers for a moment on his arm, to slide onto his thigh and stay there, about how the glitter glued to his face has disappeared with his sweat, how Felix still shines, even without it. Minho thinks about how he can get both the cookies and the boy. 

It sounds ridiculous, even in his own mind, but it takes Minho a long time to warm up to people — Felix just showed up and has him swooning. There’s got to be something to him, something else, even more endearing and Minho wants to know it all. 

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” he says after downing another drink and slips from the stool.

He’s surprised when Felix follows him with an “I’ll go with you!” but ignores Jisung’s stupid comment about “not getting freaky in someone else’s house”. They leave side by side and it’s actually Felix that leads them because he knows his way around. Minho is in Chenle’s apartment for the first time. 

“You go first,” Felix tells him. He leans on the wall right by the door and closes his eyes. Minho stays for a moment longer, taking him in. 

His disheveled hair, sticking out in every possible direction, falling over his forehead; too insignificant for him to brush away. Full lips, shiny and reddened from alcohol. That small smile, caused by nothing in particular. His sweet, heavy perfume — just as intense as when Minho first saw him. 

Minho leaves him there, goes into the bathroom with the words “You look pretty” on the tip of his tongue again. As he glances into the mirror, he realizes his hair is even messier, face all red from dancing and body heat of all the partygoers.

He flushes in embarrassment after biting down on his lips to make them redder. It’s foolish and pointless but Minho’s heart is light and he feels like doing stupid things tonight. 

After performing his necessaries and washing his hands with vanilla-scented soap, Minho leaves the bathroom. Felix is still standing by the door and flashes him a smile before disappearing inside just as he did moments ago. Their hands brush and Minho really just wants to hold Felix’s with his own again. 

He leans on the wall with his shoulder, waits for Felix to come out and relaxes in the dimmed lights of the hall. It’s much quieter here, although he can still hear the faint sound of people screaming lyrics of a song. He can’t make out the words but supposes everyone’s having fun. 

This moment of peace gives him a chance to think, too and he hates — he truly hates the way his mind is fixed on this mad idea that popped in out of nowhere. It’s so dumb that he rethinks it, goes over it at least a hundread times before realizing there’s nothing else he can come up with. 

Minho needs to keep in touch with Felix. And this — this crazy, absolutely mad plan — might help him with that. And when they become friends (and he’s sure they will), they’ll both laugh their asses off about it. It will become one of these anecdotes that you bring back years and years later, every chance you get, even after it gets boring and everyone has heard it at least ten times. It’s nothing bad. Minho just wants to keep Felix in his life. A little lie… a little, harmless lie in good faith that might help him with that, that might cause good things in the long run isn’t that bad of an idea, is it?

Felix comes out of the bathroom when Minho is still deep in thoughts; he has to wave his hand in front of Minho’s face to bring him back to reality. 

“Are you that tired or just bored?” Felix asks as they begin walking back to the kitchen. There’s a chance Jisung and Hyunjin have already disappeared on the dance floor but Minho thinks none of them would really mind that. 

“Mhmm. Was just thinking.”

“A penny?” Felix shoves him playfully and proceeds to link their arms together. He looks up at Minho, as if to ask if it’s okay. Minho just pulls him closer; hopes it’s enough of an answer. 

“Would you—Would it be weird if I asked you to bake cookies for me?” Minho starts, Felix suddenly stopping in his tracks so they can stay where it’s quieter, away from the party. “I mean — I have this… family gathering and everyone is bringing something and I — I can’t cook or bake and — buying at a bakery won’t do because they’re just… really traditional and won’t let me live if I bring something that’s not homemade. I’d probably have to cook right in front of them or... something.” 

It’s not that far from the truth. The biggest part that Minho has left out is that his family has basically disowned him a few years ago, when he was seen kissing a boy in the city by that one aunt he hasn’t ever talked to. Screaming, crying — a mess of an evening after a pretty cool date. Minho remembers parents not uttering a single word to him but letting him live under their roof until he’s gone to college; the pitiful looks from his father and pure disgust on the faces of his aunts. It’s been years and he hasn’t heard from them ever since. 

All the Christmas family gatherings looked the same — everyone bringing food, presents, family expanding so much that there was never enough space, his little cousins crying their eyes out because it was not the exact same doll they wanted. Minho will lie if he says he misses it. 

He’s better off without them. It took him a while to realize but if they can’t love him for who he really is, then it’s on them. 

Felix blinks at him, raises his eyebrows and unlinks their arms; Minho thinks if his favour is really weirder than he thought. He clears his throat, ready to play it off as a joke, hoping the blush spreading across his cheeks and ears won’t give him away. 

“I’ll agree if you help me,” Felix says, then, the weird look disappearing from his face, replaced by a soft smile; Minho doesn’t know if he should be thanking or retreating. “You know, it’s a great idea, actually! We can get to know each other better.” 

Minho scratches his neck, sheepish. “You’ll just get to know that I’m the shittiest baker on the planet and run away.” 

“Bet!” Felix exclaims with a grin.

His eyes turn to crescents and — at this rate — Minho feels like his knees might give out. If he falls and accidentally hurts himself, it’s all Lee Felix’s fault. But at the same time, it isn’t. If Felix makes his heart shake, it’s on Minho. It’s on Minho for having a weak spot for cute boys, and it’s on him for letting Felix wrap him around his finger so quickly. 

“I’ll pay you, for real. Your cookies — I’d pay like… a billion won for them.” 

Felix laughs even harder. The sound bounces off the walls of the hall, straight into Minho’s heart. It’s funny, really; there must be something magical to Felix — nothing else could explain what Minho’s feeling. 

He slips his arm into Minho’s again, linking them together and begins walking again. “A dinner will do,” Felix tells him. 

“Oh, right. If that’s what you want…” Minho mumbles, more to himself than to Felix. A slight smile blooms across his face — Felix wants to spend more time with him, too. “Just let me know what to buy and I’ll get it. Is it okay if we do it at my apartment?”

“Yeah, sure! I’ll bring all my cooking stuff so… I’ll have to look over the recipe. But if you give me your number, I’ll just text you.”

A drunk favour turning pretty real right in front of Minho’s eyes. Felix stops again, takes out his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans and — after unlocking — hands it to Minho. He saves his number just as ‘Minho from the party’ but after he hands the phone back, he sees Felix change the name with a shake of his head. Minho wishes he could see what he got saved as. 

“Well,” Felix starts as they enter the living room together, “If you’re not tired yet, we could grab a drink and go back to dancing?” 

Minho likes the way his eyes flicker underneath the fairy lights. 

He doesn’t remember much after that — just the grapefruit taste bitter on his tongue, Felix grabbing his hand and almost sprinting back onto the dance floor, his face flushed and twisted in a smile; their hands interlocked as they swim through the crowd and Minho pulling Felix close, closer, until their breaths mingle and bodies crash together. Remembers Jisung detaching the mistletoe from the ceiling, pulling Hyunjin into a kiss. Remembers them throwing it his way and Felix taking a chance to press a soft kiss on his cheek. 

It’s this — the feeling of lips on the side of his face that Minho remembers most vividly when he wakes up the next morning. 

With his head throbbing, he stays wrapped in soft covers way too long. Even Doongie awakens and moves closer from his spot in the bottom of the bed, letting Minho know that he should get up and give the poor, little baby some food. 

“Right, right. Just…” Minho mumbles, gently caressing the ginger ball of fur. “Give me a moment. No — Don’t — Please don’t scream. I didn’t raise you to be a cry baby.” 

Doongie purrs as an answer. Looks up at Minho with his bright eyes and it’s then that he decides it’s a good time to start living again. He gets out of bed with a groan, stretches out and watches in amusement as Doongie jumps off the bed and runs to his bowl in the kitchen. 

Minho can’t have him mewl again; he crouches down after grabbing the packet of cat food and pours everything into the bowl. His hand travels up to Doongie’s fur, stroking it as the cat eats. 

Minho would probably go crazy if it wasn’t for Doongie’s company. 

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath of fresh morning air slipping through the cracked window. It brings back the memory of stumbling out of Chenle’s apartment building last night, with Felix hanging on his shoulder and Hyunjin trailing right behind them with Jisung. How with a single gust of wind, his whole body shivered and Felix snuggled up closer. 

Felix. 

Minho lets out a sigh. He honestly thinks Felix’s forgotten about him. That Minho is just an insignificant memory of the party, a stranger he clung to in the heat of the moment. That he’s either forgotten about or is now laughing at Minho’s cookie-favour. 

His phone pings with an incoming message and when Minho takes it into his hands from the counter, he sees it’s Felix. He’s texting him, asking if tomorrow will do and Minho almost kills Doongie when the phone slips out of his fingers. 

“Sorry, sorry, baby,” he mumbles, petting the cat’s head. Doongie eyes him warily and goes back to eating after a short moment. 

FELIX: hi! it’s felix! dunno if you remember me from the party but i’m still up for the baking, if only you want me to. will tomorrow be alright? ^--^ 

MINHO: of course i remember you

MINHO: thank you so much once again for agreeing lol 

MINHO: you can drop by anytime you’re free :] 

FELIX: nice :D i’ll text you the ingredients in a second 

FELIX: don’t worry about the icing, i’ve got what we need left from my own baking so i’ll get everything 

FELIX: though you can buy sprinkles if you wanna. i don’t really have much christmas-related :< 

MINHO: yeah i’ll get anything we need! also i wanted to ask if you’re allergic to fur? i’ve got a cat but i can leave him in my bedroom to sleep or drop him by my neighbour’s 

FELIX: omg pls no i love cats <3 i’m even more excited now so . if i show up at the break of dawn, don’t be surprised

MINHO: welp hehe you’re welcome anytime :] 

Minho sends Felix his address and gets a short list of ingredients in return. He thinks it’s best if he just goes and buys everything then, so he doesn’t forget or get busy with something else. His fridge could really use some groceries, anyways. 

Making sure Doongie has enough food and water to survive an hour without him, Minho gets dressed and leaves his apartment with a smile on his face. It’s been a while since his steps have felt so light. 

Snow has been falling every day now, making every outing even more magical. It’s cold, freezing even, but Minho wrapped a scarf around his neck and the frost biting his cheeks doesn’t faze him. The crisp air helps easing his headache, even. 

He gets the groceries done in no time and quickly returns home; though the way back, as he’s fully loaded with shopping bags, is much more troublesome. He manages to get to his apartment before passing out from exhaustion on the couch. 

Minho really wants to lie and take a nap but he has to shoo Doongie off his back and actually eat something, then take some painkillers and at least start his Methods and Theories of Art History assignment. 

Doongie doesn’t seem to like the idea of lying on the couch alone and runs off to the kitchen after Minho. 

“Yah, you big baby!” Minho cracks a smile when Doongie starts rubbing his head against his calves. He crouches down to scratch a spot behind Doongie’s ear; content when the cat starts purring even louder. “You just want food, don’t ya? You’ve just had some, we should stick to a schedule so your tummy doesn’t ache later, hmm?”  

Doongie meows, as if understanding what he’s saying and sits down next to his food as Minho prepares his own lunch. He doesn’t feel like cooking, too drained and lazy—takes out a cup of instant ramyeon from the cupboard and boils water, acting like it’s a full course meal. Minho should really fix his eating habits. 

That can be his New Year’s resolution, along with morning runs. (And maybe — just maybe — pursuing the pull he feels towards one particular boy.)

Minho changes his T-Shirt for a hoodie and — after taking painkillers — he spends the rest of his day planning his assignment. It ends up looking pretty well — the rough draft turning into a solid base he can work on later in his Holidays break. 

Later that evening, after replying to Hyunjin’s spam on Instagram DMs — full of posts stolen from Tumblr and cute animal videos — Minho ends up making microwavable popcorn he’s found a few days ago and crashes on the couch with a sigh. 

Doongie doesn’t run to him like Minho’s used to, too absorbed in his post-meal nap. Minho bought him a radiator bed (a spontaneous decision made just because it looked cute on the Internet) as an early Christmas present and Doongie barely leaves it now. If Minho could, he’d get one for himself too, so he’s warm and fuzzy all the time. He wishes he was a cat, really. 

Popcorn soon makes his mouth feel all gross and dry with salt — Minho pauses another episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and stands up to get himself a glass of water.

With a glance to the digital clock in the kitchen, he realizes it’s still early. That doesn’t erase his tiredness, not at all. It’s not often that he gets to go to bed before ten, so he takes the chance — chugs down the water, grabs a fresh hoodie and underwear from his bedroom and doesn’t waste more time to hop into the shower and let go of everything as the water washes over his skin. 

Lazing around is nice, it’s something you need from time to time but, to Minho, having a long shower and crawling into bed right after that kind of day, when you’re still warm all over, is even better. 

Doongie is still sleeping in his hammock by the heater when he leaves the bathroom, yet Minho leaves the bedroom door cracked open so the cat can come during the night and snuggle up to him when missing some real body heat. 

As Minho’s head touches the pillow, he can already feel himself slip into the land of dreams. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Felix, despite saying he might come at the break of dawn, arrives at Minho’s doorstep in the early afternoon.

(Minho definitely hasn’t woken up at nine in the morning and spent the rest of the day anxiously pacing around the apartment to mentally prepare himself for the encounter . Nope.)

Minho almost sprints to the door the second the bell rings through the apartment. He sneaks a glance to the mirror hung on the wall and runs fingers through his hair.

He hasn’t dressed up, either. Just his favorite navy blue hoodie and black flared jersey pants. It’s nothing special even though, on a normal day, he’d be running around in shorts and that one T-Shirt with an unidentified red stain. It might be wine. It might be blood. Minho isn’t really sure.  

He opens the door and the uncertain expression on Felix’s face instantly melts into a wide smile as he sees him.

“Hi! I was worried I’d lose my way but I’m here!” Minho stands there, dumbfounded, until Felix breathes out, “Hi.” 

“Hey, come in.” 

Minho moves out of the way, hand gripping the edge of the door to steady himself. Suddenly, he’s all too aware that the only time he’s met Felix was drunk. This — Felix at his doorstep, without golden glitter scattered around his cheeks and lips gleaming from saliva and alcohol — is real, for him to remember everything. 

“I should’ve just picked you up from your place,” Minho adds. 

Felix slips off his shoes without asking if it’s necessary and takes off his jacket to put it on the wall hanger. “No worries! It’s not really far from my apartment, so…”

He straightens, fixing the strap of the canvas bag on his shoulder. Minho figures it’s a sign they can move to the kitchen — he shows Felix the way, watches him nod in content as he notes that Minho has already prepared all the ingredients and utensils needed. 

His kitchen isn’t big but opens to the living room — it seems larger this way, with windows letting in winter sun, bathing the apartment with a light hue. 

Minho has been worried it might be awkward and tense with them not really knowing each other well, but as Felix takes out what he’s brought from his canvas bag, already chatting, he lets himself loosen up. 

Minho switches on the radio to some Christmas hits playing. When he turns back around, Felix is tying an apron behind his back. It’s pink with red, kissy lips drawn all over but it’s only when he mutters, “Please don’t laugh,” with audible embarrassment that Minho really pays attention. 

‘Kiss the baker’ is written right on the chest in bold letters.

Minho is cool. Minho is collected. Minho won’t pass out just because of an adorable apron that may or may not have brought back the urge to plaster kisses all over Felix’s sweet face. 

“Why would I laugh? It’s cute,” Minho manages to say without his voice cracking.

If Felix could read his thoughts, he’d be running out of his apartment barefoot, just to be far away from Minho. Is it socially acceptable to be in love with a cute boy you’re seeing for the second time in your entire life? 

“It was a birthday gift so it’s really dear to me. It’s just — everyone always laughs but I really like it. I don’t really have a choice other than to bear it.” 

Minho doesn’t get to reply. As Felix sets the cookie forms on the counter, the sudden sound wakes Doongie from his post-meal nap. Minho first hears the sound of floor creaking, then the cat runs into the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Felix lets out. He’s clearly forgotten about Minho having a cat. 

Doongie stops in his tracks as he realizes it’s not Minho that he’s standing so close to. His gaze settles on the stranger; he eyes Felix warily and then, Felix is crouching down with his hand extended, before Minho manages to say, “Be careful! He doesn’t like strangers and might… scratch you.” 

His mouth hangs open upon seeing Doongie cuddle up to Felix’s calf with a purr. This isn’t supposed to be happening. It isn’t, but Felix looks up at him with a soft grin and mumbles, “I think he likes me.” 

That makes the two of them. 

Minho can’t help but crouch down too. He runs his fingers across Doongie’s fur as Felix is rubbing his tummy — and if their hands brush out of nowhere and they exchange shy looks, no one has to know. 

There are a lot of attractive things about Felix. So many, that — after one proper meeting — Minho already has a list in his mind, the one he goes back to when no one else is around, the one he rereads and convinces himself furthermore that Felix is just perfect. 

But, adding ‘Doongie adores him’ holds another weight. 

Doongie doesn’t like anyone . Minho has had him for years, since he was a kid, and he remembers how it took Doongie a lot to warm up to him; to stop running away when Minho holds out his hand, to stop eyeing food cautiously, to come running when Minho calls him. 

The only other person Doongie lets around him is Jisung — there’s this energy to Jisung, so loving and calming, that even a cat as grumpy and unforthcoming as Doongie instantly feels comfortable.

The same can’t be said about Hyunjin — a few light scratches all over his hands being the proof. Minho’s explanation is that Doongie must feel his dog-person energy. (Jisung uses the Doongie Card against him at least ten times a day, cuddling the cat whenever they’re around Minho’s apartment and sticking out his tongue at Hyunjin just because he’s petty.) 

And then there’s Felix. 

It’s something Minho hasn’t been expecting yet still accepts with open arms. He can and will take it as a good sign for whatever he has coming with Felix in the future. 

“As much as I’d like to stay here and pet the baby for the rest of my life, we’ve got some cookies to bake, sir.”

Felix nudges Minho, the corners of his lips still curled up. He stands up, murmurs something to Doongie — who actually seems to be sulking at the loss of hands petting his entire chubby, furry body — and holds out his hand to help Minho get up from the floor. 

Without letting go, he leads Minho to the sink and opens the tap. When Felix drops Minho’s hand to wash his own, he suddenly understands Doongie’s moping. (Minho feels like a total fool but maybe that’s what he truly is and Felix is only helping him with realizing.) 

Minho follows suit — washes his hands and dries them with a towel. He turns to the counter right after to find Felix humming to the tune playing in the radio. Minho sends him a smile when their eyes meet. It’s nothing — just a simple gesture — but Felix’s eyes light up and Minho is reminded of how golden they can get. 

“The recipe is pretty easy so maybe next time, you’ll make them on your own, hmm?”

Minho nods but he doesn’t think he will. Baking has never been his strong point — cooking, maybe and he voices it out to Felix. 

“Well, so… the dinner you promised… I’m expecting you to cook, then,” he shrugs with a cheeky smile. His eyes travel back to the counter, brows furrowing for a split second just to ease into his usual soft expression again. “But the recipe — I mean it — I don’t think you really need me here. It’s just mixing stuff together and then cutting out the shapes. Easy.”

“Sorry for — ”

“Nah-nah,” Felix interrupts, wiggling his finger side to side as if to scold him. “I’m happy to help you, as I said then. It’s really no problem.”

“Alright. Then, just tell me what to do.” 

“Mhmm… you can crush the nuts and caramel candies into tiny, tiny, tiny bits. I’ll just make the dough and we can mix everything together.” 

Minho supposes it’s not that difficult of a task but doesn’t voice out his gratitude to Felix — it’s so considerate of him to save Minho from embarrassing himself.

Felix tells him to preheat the oven, too and they begin working with quiet music sounding through the radio and Doongie going back and forth between them, rubbing his head over their legs.

Minho glances up at Felix from his cutting board sometimes, sees him mix ingredients swiftly and goes back to crushing caramels wondering if he’s such a great cook that everything he does looks eye-catching or if Minho is just that whipped. 

When Felix calls his name, Minho hums in response and looks up to see him brushing hair out of his face. 

“Can you pour in flour as I mix it?” 

Minho grabs the jar and a spoon without a single word and steps closer. Felix takes the mixer into his hands but with a glance at Minho, he sets it back on the counter. 

“Wait,” he says, making Minho stop with raised eyebrows. “You might get it all over your clothes. I don’t want you to ruin anything.” 

Before Minho can say that it’s alright, that it’s just a piece of clothing, that he’s got a washing machine he can use anytime, Felix is untying his pink apron and taking it off in a swift motion. It lies in his hands for a split second, hesitation visible on his face and Minho doesn’t know if he should just take it and put it on. But then, Felix puts the apron over Minho’s head and straightens the fabric where it wrinkled on his chest. 

He mutters a soft “turn around”, so Minho does. After that, all he feels is Felix’s delicate hands, tying the apron in a knot on his back. 

Minho turns back to face him again. It’s a short moment, just Felix looking at him with a glimmer in his eyes. He runs fingers through his hair and — nonchalantly as it can get — tells Minho, “Unfair. You look way cuter than me.” 

There’s something in the way Felix pouts just to break into a smile a second later; something that tugs on Minho’s heart and makes it grow in his chest, throb and crash against his ribcage. 

Minho wants to disagree. He wants to voice out how he thinks Felix is — without a doubt — the most adorable human known to Earth, how his smile seems to light up the room, how the best part of him is the genuine care. How all it took was for him to show up in a punny Christmas sweater for Minho to swoon. 

But Felix moves away, grabs the mixer again and tilts his head to the side to let Minho know they should go back to baking. 

Minho pours flour into the bowl whenever he’s told and goes back to his part of the counter when he’s not needed anymore. 

“I think it’s better to just sprinkle them with caramel when they’re already cut, hmm?” 

“Yeah, that seems like a good idea,” Minho agrees, although he doesn’t think it makes any difference.

Felix shoots him another smile before looking around to find a rolling pin. He sprinkles the counter with flour so the dough doesn’t stick and takes it out of the bowl. It’s a lot, Minho notices but that’s even better — he’ll just enjoy the best cookies in the world for a long time.(Or not; maybe he’ll eat them in two days.) 

Minho gets the cookie cutters and watches Felix do the most important task. It’s strangely captivating, how swift his motions are and Minho has never thought rolling dough could be this attractive — maybe it’s just Felix. 

He sets the rolling pin down after he’s finished and looks up at Minho, only to find him already staring. Blinking, he brushes away hair that has fallen over his forehead and clears his throat. 

“Most of these aren’t exactly Christmas themed but they’re cute so you can choose what you like,” he says, gesturing to the cutters. 

“I don’t mind. It’s the otherworldly taste that matters.” 

Felix bursts into giggles, nodding and ushers Minho to stand on the other side of the counter so it’s easier for them to work. They both humm to the Holiday hits playing on the radio as they cut shapes into the rolled out dough. 

If their hands brush, if they cut out cookies too close to each other, if Minho steals a glance at Felix to see him bite back a smile, no one has to know. 

Minho gets to sprinkle the cookies with caramel flakes and nuts before they go into the oven. Felix laughs at him when his hand cramps out of nowhere and everything splatters over the baking tray. His ears turn a bright shade of red with embarrassment and all he can do is hope Felix doesn’t notice. 

When Minho puts the tray with cookies into the oven, they both crouch there for a moment just staring at their work. Minho isn’t surprised they look so good — afterall, it’s Felix who’s done most of the job. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Minho asks, when they finally stand up. Felix turns back to the counter to prepare the icing and he doesn’t really know if there’s anything he can help with. 

“Mhmm… can you make me instant coffee?” 

“Of course. Sorry, I should’ve asked earlier.” 

Felix shrugs. “I didn’t want anything to drink then,” he says. Minho turns to get his coffee ready and make a mug for himself, too. After a moment, as if he has debated if it’s something he should admit, Felix adds, “Honestly, I was really… shy, let’s say. I was just worried it’d be awkward but… but you’re you, so it’s really nice.” 

You’re you.  

Minho doesn’t know what to make of it. He remains with his back to Felix for a moment longer to take care of the stupid grin that’s spread across his face. It doesn’t go away. 

“If that makes you feel any better, I was over the moon just because you remembered me. You know, we were both drunk when we met so… Dunno. I was worried, too.” 

When Minho finally turns to face him, Felix is smiling, too. His eyes study Minho’s face just to quickly drop to his chest and then, his hand travels up to his mouth to suppress a laugh. It doesn’t work — the kitchen, the whole apartment is filled with his giggle and Minho doesn’t understand what the hell is going on. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, suddenly worried he’s said something strange. Felix stops laughing, maybe noticing Minho’s uneasiness and shakes his head vigorously. 

“It’s just — It’s the apron. You’re still wearing it and — You look really, really cute.” 

Minho looks down and — yes — the pink Kiss the Baker apron is still on his body. It has totally slipped his mind and — out of nowhere — embarrassment fills him up, makes his ears red again and Minho reaches to the back to untie the apron and give it back. 

“Wait, I’ll help!” 

Felix covers the distance between them and stands behind Minho to help him out of the apron. 

“I was just complaining about how everyone laughs when I wear it and now I did the same to you. Sorry, didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says, voice quiet, lips so close to Minho’s ear. “You seriously look pretty. It’s kinda annoying — you’re not supposed to look pretty in a stupid apron. But what can I expect from such a lovely face, hmm?” 

“You think my face is lovely?” Minho can’t help but ask.

He turns to Felix, to really look at him, and feels like a teenager again — the way his heart drops, the way everything is so uncertain, seems so far away, out of reach. Minho doesn’t know what to do; if he won’t ruin things by closing the distance between them with a simple kiss. 

“The loveliest,” Felix mumbles. “ You are lovely. Not just your face.”

His eyes glimmer in the setting sun. His face, bathed in reds and pinks coming through the window, is genuine — no mask, no pretending. Minho finds it fascinating, how Felix seems to be an open book; take what you want. 

Maybe Minho would lean in and kiss him, with the damned apron still hanging loosely from his neck. Maybe Felix would kiss him back.

Maybe Felix wants it just as much as he does. 

But, as Minho is in the middle of gathering the courage to actually do something, the oven timer goes off. Felix doesn’t jump away and Minho can’t help but notice the disappointment on his face. It quickly melts away into a smile but remains in his eyes, in the way he steals glances at Minho when he’s taking the tray out of the oven.

They let the cookies cool down — Felix goes back to finishing up the icing, Minho to making their coffees. This time, he remembers to take off the apron.

In the meantime, Doongie stumbles into the kitchen and meows for food; loud, like he’s been starving for days. Minho pours some into the cat’s bowl after taking a look at the clock and making sure it’s not too soon since the last time Doongie’s eaten. 

“You’re so sweet with him,” Felix breaks the silence but when Minho looks up to the counter, he’s adding food coloring into the icing base, not even sparing him a glance. “Just one look and I know how much you care about him and he cares about you.”

“Yeah, Doongie can be… difficult. That’s I was surprised he was so cool with you but really, I shouldn’t have been.” 

“What do you mean?” Felix perks up, interested and Minho can help but think how much he resembles a kitten.

“You’re warm and — if that’s the right word — see-through. Like… there’s no ulterior motive about you. No wonder he finds you comfortable. I like that in you, too.” 

Felix blinks at him in surprise. His cheeks heat up and he scrunches his nose, visibly embarrassed. He tries to hide it by lowering his head but it only makes Minho laugh. He stands up, leaving Doongie by the bowl, to turn on the lights. Then, he comes closer to the counter, closer to Felix. 

“I’m done with the icing,” Felix says after clearing his throat. He puts a worryingly huge amount of sugar in his coffee and takes a few sips. “We could leave some cookies without the icing, what do you think?”

Minho hums in response, too focused on watching Felix fill piping bags with red, green, white and yellow icing. Everything feels domestic, like they’ve been friends for ages and it’s a normal thing — a tradition, even — for them to bake Christmas cookies together.

Minho feels his insides warm up at the thought. With Felix, he could do this again.

Maybe next time he could do more work, learn something and surprise Felix with his newly learned skills. Maybe next time he could bake something for Felix. Maybe next time he could just say, ‘Let’s cook together’ and it would be enough for Felix to show up at his door with a wide grin and his cute pink apron. 

They have fun decorating the cookies. 

Minho — for an art history student — is not that very good of a painter. Felix laughs at him for messing up a snowflake and proceeds to make a better one just out of spite. Minho doesn’t hate to admit that it’s better than his as much as he pretends to. 

“I’ve got more experience,” Felix assures him, even though Minho isn’t worried about how ugly his cookies might turn out. “Next time, yours will look much better.” 

“Mhm… so, you’re saying they look bad now?” he teases. 

“Nope, you said that. I’m just referring to your own words.” 

Minho acts like he’s offended, lips pursed, avoiding eye contact but Felix just laughs. After a moment, though, when Minho’s act starts to crumble and he wants to nudge Felix’s leg under the table, Felix slides a cookie across the counter. 

It’s cat-shaped. Felix put some white icing on it and made spots out of the red one. There’s no mouth but when Minho looks up at him with curious eyes, he meows. 

Minho snorts. If there was one thing (among others) he didn’t expect from Felix, it was being a literal cat. His meow has sounded so real that Doongie woke up from his nap on the armchair. 

“Jesus, that was embarrassing,” Felix mumbles, sliding hand across his face. Minho opens his mouth to disagree, to say that it’s been unexpected but not any less endearing, but Felix adds, “Eat it. See if we didn’t fuck them up.” 

Minho doesn’t need to eat to know they didn’t. The scent of cocoa, caramel and nuts is in the air. It smells so nice, nicer than any air freshener, and just by that Minho can tell the cookies have turned out delicious. 

When he puts it in his mouth, the experience is no different. His eyes light up as he munches on the cookie and, somehow, it’s even better than the cookies from the party. He licks remains of the icing off his lips and looks up at Felix, just to find him already staring. (If Minho didn’t know better, he’d think Felix was looking at his mouth.) 

“They’re fucking amazing. You should have one, too,” Minho tells him. He doesn’t even wait for a response — immediately prepares one for him.

He sprinkles the red icing with pearls and carefully picks the big heart-shaped cookie up from the counter. Felix opens his mouth and Minho cups one of his hands under Felix’s chin to prevent any crumbs from landing on the floor. 

Felix keeps staring at him with those sparkling eyes — Minho doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“Mhm… you’re right. We’re a good team.” Felix winks after munching up the cookie. Then, as if nothing has happened, goes back to icing the remaining biscuits. He sways from side to side to the songs playing on the radio, breaking out sometimes to whisper the lyrics under his breath.

After they finish decorating the cookies and tidying up the kitchen (although Minho has said it’s no problem for him to clean up by himself), Minho can’t think of anything to make Felix stay a little longer. With how the boy sits down on the couch to caress Doongie while he’s napping, Minho can only assume Felix wants to stay, too. 

“By the way, are you getting a Christmas tree?”

“I’ve got a small one in my closet. Nothing else would survive having Doongie around,” Minho replies. Felix chuckles and scratches a spot behind the cat’s ears, as if to say that it can’t be true, that Doongie is an angel. “I have to put it somewhere high, but he’ll probably jump and try to eat the baubles, anyways.” 

“Slander! Baby would never.” 

“He’ll jump all over it the second I turn my back to him, for real.” 

Minho remembers coming back home from college — the first Holidays he’s spent alone — and plastic baubles scattered all over the floor. The only good thing was that Minho didn’t get the glass ones — if Doongie broke them and something happened to him, Minho would never forgive himself. 

But since then, he’s never had a normal-sized Christmas tree. With a cat around, it doesn’t seem like a good idea. 

“But at home — I mean, where your family lives — you’ve got a tree, right?” 

Minho freezes. He blinks and moves his gaze from the floor to Doongie. He can’t look at Felix but still notices, out of the corner of his eye, as the boy raises his eyebrow. Minho musters up a smile, acting like his confusion is only caused by being shaken out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, sure. My cousins — they always decorate it.” 

Felix hums in understanding and — as a smile blooms across his face — the weird atmosphere disappears like it’s magic. Minho doesn’t dwell on it; he tends to overthink and always ruins good things. This time, he won’t let that happen. 

Just as he opens his mouth to suggest watching a movie together, Felix’s phone goes off. Doongie begins stretching his legs and Felix mumbles apologies for waking him up. (Minho thinks it’s the most adorable thing ever but doesn’t dare to say it.) 

“Sorry, I have to get this,” Felix tells him before standing up from the couch. He doesn’t go far away, just to the balcony windows.

Minho busies himself with stroking Doongie’s fur to lull him back to sleep, then. It’s not long until Felix comes back. By the apologetic smile on his face, Minho knows Felix has to leave before he says anything. 

“My flatmate called if I can come back. You know… heartbreak emergency.”

Minho tries very hard to hide the disappointment. It’s selfish of him to want Felix to stay when his friend clearly needs him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells Felix instead. “Do you want me to drive you?” 

“Ah, no, but thanks. I came by car.” 

“I’ll walk you to the parking lot, then. It’s dark, you know.”

It’s definitely not Minho just wanting to be with him a moment longer. Nope. 

Felix nods and crouches next to the couch to pet Doongie one last time. “I gotta go, baby. I’ll see you soon, hmm?” Doongie doesn’t react, too deep in his sleep. Minho snorts at Felix’s little pout and lets him know that Doongie still very much adores him. 

Felix doesn’t hide his sluggish movements. It’s like he doesn’t want to leave, either. 

Minho helps him into his jacket when they get to the door and grabs his own coat so he doesn’t freeze outside. Nights have gotten colder. 

“Don’t destroy the apartment when I’m gone!” Minho shoots over his shoulder to Doongie, still sleeping soundly on the couch. Felix giggles, smacks his shoulder and makes Minho feel like the funniest person on Earth, even though it’s a normal procedure that he has to follow with a cat as petty as Doongie. 

They’re silent on the way to Felix’s car but it’s one of those comfortable silences. Minho wonders when they got to that; wonders, if Felix feels as at ease with him as Minho does. 

“Thank you for helping me out,” he says when they stop next to a nice, white Mercedes. “And if you’re still up for it, text me when you’re free so I can make us some fancy dinner.” 

Felix raises his eyebrow, curious. “ You will be cooking?” 

Minho smacks him on the shoulder playfully, though he might not even feel that, with his jacket so puffy. 

“I will do my best. Unless you wanna go to a restaurant.” 

“No, I’m actually very intrigued,” Felix beams.

Now, Minho will have to watch a few YouTube tutorials but it will be worth it. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, it goes. 

“Well, besides the cooking, you can always come over. To see Doongie.” Minho debates a short moment before he adds, “Or me.” 

“You.” 

The tenderness of Felix’s voice does something to Minho. His heartbeat picks up and he thinks that this is it. Felix can’t make him any more love-struck. 

He doesn’t know how long they’re standing there, cheeks red from the freezing cold but with smiles as big as they can get. Minho doesn’t want this moment to end. 

But Felix speaks up. “I should go.” This time, Minho’s disappointment must be visible, since he doesn’t make any effort to hide it because he adds with a chuckle, “I’m not leaving forever, dummy. One call away.” 

And, even after Felix gets into his car and drives away, Minho stays in the parking lot a moment longer. His hands get cold and sore in no time but it’s only the falling snow that makes him go back to his apartment. 

The smell of caramel and hazelnuts lingers in the air for the rest of the night and lulls Minho to sleep. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

It’s been a long time since Minho slept this well. 

Cheek pressed against the pillow, Doongie curled up on the other side of the bed, the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies still in the air — Minho thinks it might be heaven. No wonder it takes him a lot longer than usual to get up.

Christmas Eve is one of the boring days during the year. Minho prepares breakfast for himself and Doongie, downs a mug of coffee and settles on the couch for the rest of the day, mindlessly watching whatever’s on TV. 

At some point, when his eyes get sore, he goes to the kitchen and gets himself a plate full of cookies he and Felix baked yesterday. There’s a lot of them — some still on the baking tray so the icing can dry — and Minho isn’t sure if he can eat them all by himself. (He will, of course.)

With a sigh slipping past his lips, he lies back on the couch. This time Minho reaches out for the book he stole from Hyunjin’s a few weeks ago instead of the remote. He can hear the faint rustling on the streets through the closed window when he starts reading. 

Minho doesn’t like knowing the plot — he picks up random books and gets through them even if they’re awful. Life gets predictable when you’re living by a routine; sometimes it’s only those insignificant surprises that give everything a little spice. 

Doongie moves from the other end of the couch to sleep under Minho’s arm. He can’t help but take his phone and snap a few pictures. Doongie sleeping, Doongie with one eye open, Doongie looking at the screen with curious eyes, Doongie standing up to press his furry face into Minho’s cheek, Doongie trying to scratch Minho’s lips.

It’s stupid how the first thing that comes to his mind is sending them to Felix. But — before he can back out — Minho opens Messages and texts him one of the pictures. The reply comes instantly, as if Felix has been just waiting for it. ‘Cute,’ it says, with a bunch of red hearts.

Minho feels brave that afternoon and sends the selfie with Doongie pressed against his cheeks. Felix takes a little longer to reply this time, but when the message comes, Minho almost rolls off the couch. 

FELIX: cuter ^o^ 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Having no contact with your family means spending Holidays alone and on doing whatever you please. The first part can get a little upsetting but it’s nothing you can’t get used to. And, Minho isn’t really alone when a ginger ball of fur is by his side.

After waking up, he messages Jisung and Hyunjin, expressing his hopes that they’re having a great time at home and replies to the texts his other friends have sent him.

It’s a nice morning, really. When he looks out of the window, there’s a lot of snow —n ot that dirty kind that lies by the side of the road but the one that reflects sunshine in an almost blinding way. From what he can see it’s not even windy — tree branches steadily bear up the weight of snow. Sun rays are breaking through the light clouds. 

It’d be a sin to stay inside. 

Minho dresses up in comfy clothes, wraps a scarf around his neck and kisses Doongie on the top of the head before leaving the apartment. A gust of wind hits him in the face as he exits the building but the smile doesn’t falter from his face. 

He keeps his head up, face turned towards the sun throughout the entire walk to the coffee shop. His cheeks get red because of the chilly weather but as he steps into the cafe, his body relaxes in an instant. 

It’s Christmas Day so it’s not as crowded as usual. The air smells like pastries — good, but not as good as in his apartment — and besides that, the more evident scent of cinnamon, nothing has changed since the last time he’s been here. 

Minho orders a caramel mocha and, after taking off his mask and scarf, sits by the window. The only reason he’s always choosing this particular spot is that there’s a heater and he can put his cold hands on it and feel warmth rush through his body. This, he realizes, is one of the things him and Doongie have in common — love for warmth (and radiators). 

He hasn’t planned anything special to do; just to get a drink and maybe walk through the park nearby but with the soft music playing through the speakers, Minho thinks he might stay there a little longer.

“As I thought, it’s you!” 

Minho turns his head, although at the very first second he doesn’t think the words are directed towards him. But then, Felix slides onto the seat across him with that sweet grin of his and Minho straightens. 

For a moment, he forgets he isn’t supposed to be sitting there; that he should be in his hometown, with his family, setting Christmas cookies on the table. 

“Hi,” Minho greets. He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips upon seeing the boy that seems to be occupying his thoughts twenty-four seven. 

Felix stares at him, curious. He sets down his own cup of coffee on the table and, casually as it gets, with eyes never leaving Minho’s face, he says, “I saw you come in but I thought, ‘Hey, this guy should be eating cookies with his family now, it’s definitely not him’. But it is you.” 

Minho freezes and the look on his face must be funny because Felix snorts with sheer amusement. 

“So,” he adds when Minho doesn’t say anything, “can you explain this revelation to me?” 

Minho splatters, trying to come up with something to say. His ears get warm from embarrassment when nothing making sense comes out of his mouth. Lowering his gaze, he manages to choke out, “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, no! I’m not here for apologies, or anything. But I kinda… knew something was off when you asked me to bake cookies for a family gathering,” Felix says. His words make Minho even more confused. He looks up, expecting to see Felix mad, annoyed but he doesn’t find anything like that. “You know, when Jisung talked about you, he joked we could bond over not being on good terms with our families. He didn’t say anything else and I didn’t wanna pry, either so…” 

Minho sighs. 

“What I wanna say is that you didn’t have to lie. But, since you did, I’ll just assume you wanted to see me again really bad and…”

“You’re actually right,” Minho interrupts. It’s embarrassing — this whole encounter is embarrassing — but if Felix knows a little bit, then he should know the rest. 

Felix quirks an eyebrow. “Well, I’m flattered, then. If that helps you relax, I wanted to see you just as bad. But I’m not as good at coming up with excuses.” 

Minho feels his heart thump. It crashes painfully against his ribcage and, in reality, he wants to tell Felix everything. He wants to say how he adores the way sunshine reflects in his eyes, makes them golden, how his cheeks get redder with every sip of his warm coffee, how the smile is just the perfect addition to his soft face and how it should always — always — be there. How all Minho wants to do in that moment is reach out and take Felix’s hand in his own, without worrying it’s inappropriate.

When did he get so sappy? 

“At the party… I wouldn’t have that much fun if it wasn’t for you. I thought I made it clear that I liked you. Lying wasn’t necessary,” Felix says with a sigh. He takes a sip of his drink and looks back up at Minho. “I just — It’s funny but I don’t like being lied to, you know.” 

“I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean any harm, I hope you know that.” Minho runs fingers through his hair. His eyes never leave Felix’s, to assure him, to let him know that he’s genuine. 

“Let’s just meet up whenever we want to, hmm? Without making up excuses.”

Minho nods and, suddenly, an idea pops into his mind. 

“Are you free this evening? Because if we’re both… family-less this Christmas, we could spend it together,” he proposes, finger running along the brim of his cup. “Unless you have plans already.”

Felix beams, eyes sparkling more than Minho has ever seen them to. Breath hitches in his throat. Minho doesn’t know why this particular moment, why now, in his favorite cafe on a Christmas Day, he realizes that he likes Felix very much. Very much more than a friend. 

Minho has found Felix attractive, has found him pretty and extraordinary since the day they’ve met but this — liking Felix as he is — is undoubtedly different than that. 

Felix looks at him with a glint in his eyes, bright smile never leaving his lips and Minho thinks he might feel the same. Minho lets himself think, lets himself dream about becoming close.

“I’d love to,” Felix tells him and his voice is softer than ever. “Do you want me to bring anything?”

“No. I’ll cook, you just have to show up.” 

“So, this is the promised dinner? The one for the cookies?” 

Minho knows what Felix wants him to say just by the look on his face. “No, that’ll be another one.”

A smug smile blooms across his face when he leans back on his chair. Now that Minho feels Felix likes him back, he can be more confident in his actions. 

“Alright, you flirt.” Felix rolls his eyes in fake annoyance but he can’t stop smiling, not even for a second.

Minho can’t take his eyes off him. With chin propped on his hand, he’s shamelessly staring but Felix doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he watches Minho with the same evident curiosity. 

When Minho grabs his cup to take a sip of his mocha, he finds it already empty. Sighing, he figures it’s time to go back home and prepare for dinner with Felix, no matter how much he wants to stay here with him. 

Felix stands up when Minho does and — before Minho can even think of a way they can say goodbye to each other on their level of relationship — pulls him into a hug. His cheek is pressed up against Minho’s, warm and soft when his arms lock around Minho’s waist. He hums, sending vibrations through Minho’s body. 

No hug has ever felt this good. 

“I’ll see you later,” Felix says and loosens his embrace.

The sudden loss of warmth makes Minho grimace. If he could, he’d never let Felix go. 

“Just come whenever,” Minho tells him while putting on his jacket. Then, with his scarf wrapped around his neck, there’s no way he can prolong his. Felix is gathering his things, too, anyway; probably has his own things to take care of before their dinner. “Oh, by the way, are you allergic or just dislike any foods? I don’t wanna send you to the ER.” 

Felix chuckles. He loops an arm around Minho’s when they’re leaving the cafe together. “Nope, I like everything. Really, don’t worry too much about it. I’d be happy if you ordered pizza.” 

Minho shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It’s obvious Felix is smiling, even though he’s wearing a mask. In his eyes, there are these sparkles, the glimmer that sweeps Minho off his feet every single time. 

And then, Felix is going away in the opposite direction of Minho’s apartment. He tries to wave before turning around but the air is too cold for his ungloved hand and he quickly shoves it back into his pocket. After a moment, he giggles and sways from side to side to wave with his whole body. 

Minho is so, so gone. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

On the way home, Minho has decided it’d better if he cooked something simple but tasty instead of going all in for Internet recipes he hasn’t tried before. He might not be the best cook on the planet but living alone for years now made him decent. And if he tries hard enough, Felix might even find his cooking delicious. 

He’s never found it in himself to care about what others think, to please people, but with Felix everything is different. Minho just wants to impress him.

When the bell rings, he’s still in the middle of frying vegetables. But Minho drops everything to open the door. 

“Hey, there,” Felix greets, lifting up a bottle of wine. Minho sends him a soft smile and lets him in. “I brought some sweets for the dessert.” 

“Mhmm, that’s nice,” Minho tells him as he’s leaving his jacket on the hanger. He honestly hasn’t thought about it, so he’s glad Felix has. “I’m just finishing up.” 

They move to the kitchen; Minho goes back to the stove. Felix leans over the counter from the other side with a delighted expression. 

“It smells really good.”

“You think so?” Minho asks but he’s too busy stirring the food to turn around and look at Felix. It looks good, too and he can’t wait to finally eat it. 

“Yep. And,” Felix starts — Minho can actually hear the mischievous tone in his voice before he even gets to finish the sentence, “you also look very hot when you’re cooking. I think I’ll be coming over for dinner more often.” 

It's so silly Minho can't help but smile, amused. This time he doesn't feel embarrassed when Felix compliments him — he’s more pleased with himself, smug, and thinks that maybe he should cook more so Felix can come over and keep telling him sweet things. 

“You should. You’re always welcome.” 

Minho sends him a smile over his shoulder. Felix looks at him, too, before his gaze drops to the floor and he’s disappearing behind the counter. Minho furrows his brows but before he can ask what’s going on, Felix exclaims, “My baby!” 

And Minho knows it’s Doongie. Felix stands up with the cat in his arms, cheek pressed against Doongie’s furry face. 

“He’s grown so much since I last saw him,” Felix mumbles. 

“He’s too old to grow now.” Minho chuckles at the offended noise Felix makes, as if pointing out Doongie’s age is a bad thing. “And you’ve seen him two days ago.” 

“Doesn’t matter. It seemed like forever.” 

Minho turns to face him and stands akimbo. “So, you can’t go two days without Doongie but me you don’t miss at all?” 

Felix seems to share a knowing look with Doongie before he sets the cat back on the floor. Then, he comes closer to Minho and cups his face. Minho shivers at the contact with Felix’s cold hands but doesn’t move away. He doesn’t move an inch. 

“You I missed the most,” Felix says. And then, he snatches a piece of beef from the frying pan and runs to the living room. 

“Fucking loser,” Minho mutters under his breath — but he can’t help the fond smile tugging at his lips — as Felix’s giggles echo through the apartment. He can hear the way Felix tries to sneak back into the kitchen a moment later to snatch Doongie into his arms but the creaks in the floor give him away.

Even though food is ready, Minho gives Felix a moment to play with Doongie before calling him to the table. He fills the cat’s bowl up, too so they can all eat together. 

Felix takes the seat across Minho’s usual when Minho is still setting down the plates. He wonders if they fit so well together already; so well because they complete each other even when it comes to such trivial things as seats at the table. 

“The piece I’ve snatched before was so, so good,” Felix tells him when he’s filling up his plate with bulgogi and vegetables. “If you say you’re a bad cook again, I’ll kick you in the face.” 

“Would it be so bad?” Minho teases, earning a poke to the cheek with metal chopsticks. 

“You hear him, Doongie? He’s shameless.” Felix shakes his head in fake disbelief — it only makes Minho laugh harder. He dives into the food right after and, just as it lands in his mouth, his eyes roll back. “Fucking hell, marry me.” 

“Take me out on a date first,” Minho smirks, trying to keep his composure but his insides feel funny. Hot. Very hot. “Is it really that good?” 

Felix nods, cheeks full of food. “Incredible. Spectacular. Completely not ever done before.” 

“You’re making fun of me now.” 

“‘M not! It’s just — ” he puts another piece of meat into his mouth, “Oh God, I can’t do this. You’re perfect, you’re actually perfect.” 

What is Minho supposed to answer with? 

He stares at Felix, not really sure what to make of his words but the way he speaks gives him an unreasonable amount of satisfaction. It’s the way Felix’s eyes sparkle, face twisted in a grin that makes everything so genuine. 

Doongie finishes his dinner, stumbles under the table to rub his face into their legs. Minho moves his foot to pet the cat without stopping eating but it crashes with Felix’s. If they share silly smiles and their legs stay tangled even when Doongie goes to the living room to take a nap, no one has to know. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

“You’ve got a corkscrew?”

Minho opens one of the drawers, lets Felix’s hip bump into his when he’s reaching to get the corkscrew and acts like his skin isn’t burning when Felix rests his hands on his waist to get him to move a tiny bit to the right. 

He sets the glasses on the counter, takes a better grip on them and waits as Felix opens the bottle of wine. If it were Minho, half of the bottle would’ve been spilled on the floor but Felix manages to do it swiftly and a pop echoes in the apartment as he gets rid of the cork. 

They move to the living room, sluggish after dinner. The dishes are still in the sink because Minho has insisted they can wait until tomorrow. Now, all he wants to do is spend some more pleasant time with Felix. 

Minho is so selfish; he doesn’t want him to go, wants to keep him close because Felix makes him feel happy. With Felix everything is easy. 

They settle on the couch and without a debate play the first movie that shows up in the Christmas section on Netflix. Minho doesn’t really pay attention. He hands Felix a glass of wine and takes the other one, leaning into the back of the couch with a content sigh. 

“This is the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time,” Felix says and proceeds to take a sip. Minho can’t disagree. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming.” 

Minho likes the way Felix’s eyes sparkle when he turns to look at him. His lips are slightly curled up in that soft smile that makes Minho’s heart throb. Everything about Felix is endearing; from his pretty face and even prettier soul, through his knitted sweater and yellow socks with a giraffe pattern, up to the way he makes Minho feel so at ease and content. 

There’s so much more about him for Minho to discover, so many parts to find and cherish one by one — Minho doesn’t want to rush. 

He could easily take his chance, lean in, close the distance between them but instead he says, “I’m so glad I met you.” 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

They don’t see each other much later that week — Felix is busy with college assignments he needs to get done before holiday break ends and Minho uses his free time to gradually clean every centimeter of space in his apartment. 

It’s only when Felix calls him one morning, on the 30th, when he’s in the middle of changing sheets. He picks up nonetheless, almost the same second Felix’s name shows up on his screen, pausing the music Minho has been playing to add some more fun to his mundane activities. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hears on the other side of the line. “How have you been doing?” 

Minho moves to the living room. He sits down on the couch and lets out a sigh. “Just tired, which is weird because I’ve been barely doing anything for the past week. You?”

“Just finished my last essay, so I’m free. I’m taking a nap in a few, just wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh, shoot.” 

There’s a pause. Long enough that Minho checks his phone to see if he hasn’t accidentally hung up, but the call is still ongoing. It piques his curiosity; what can possibly have Felix so hesitant to just ask?

“Are you coming to Hyewon’s on New Year’s Eve?”

Minho suppresses the slight disappointment; it was silly of him to think Felix would ask him on a date right that moment but it was the only thing that came to his mind. He hums and says, “Depends. Are you?” 

“I think so. Jisung and Hyunjin are probably coming, too.” 

“Are we gonna third-wheel then? Ew.” 

Felix chuckles. It’s different from his previous giggles but Minho feels weird for noticing. It’s a phone call, he’s probably hearing things. 

“We can leave them and have fun on our own and then use Hyunjin as our ride back home,” Felix suggests and Minho knows — he hears it in his voice — that he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“If you promise to not leave me .”

Felix pretends to be thinking, hums and Minho plays along. He exclaims a little ‘Yah!’ and, content, listens to Felix break out in giggles on the other side of the line. 

“I wouldn’t. I won’t,” he’s quick to assure. 

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Minho teases. He meets eyes with Doongie, pats his lap and watches the kitten run to him, acting hesitant at first. “You’ll have to reward my benefit of the doubt.” 

“How?” 

“First, you have to dance with me during the party.” Felix hums in response. “Second, you have to go and take your nap, right now.”

“You care me,” he mumbles. Minho thinks that yes, he does. And if knowing Felix for a little over a week, he cares about him so much, it’s scary to think how everything will bloom in the future. 

“Yeah, yeah. Now sleep, you kitten.” 

Nothing could prepare him for Felix’s next words. His voice — sleepy but clear — rings in Minho’s head long after the call ends. 

“Love ya.” 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

On the evening of New Year’s Eve, Minho climbs into the backseat of Hyunjin’s car, phone in hand. The warmth of AC envelops his chilled cheeks as he closes the door behind him. 

“Damn, it got real cold,” he says instead of a greeting. Hyunjin nods in agreement as he drives out of the snowy parking lot outside Minho's block. “Dunno if he told you, but Felix will meet us there.”

Jisung turns to him from the passenger seat, finally stopping playing Subway Surf on his phone. Seeing his expression — puckered lips and inquisitive eyes — Minho knows what to expect before Jisung can even open his mouth. He exchanges a knowing look with Hyunjin, leaving Minho out of their telepathic conversation. 

“So… you and Felix?” 

In Minho’s head, when he keeps coming back to this thought every given second, their names laced together sound familiar. But when Jisung says them — out loud, into the world — it’s different. 

He shrugs, ignoring the twist in his gut. “Me and Felix.” 

“That’s nice,” Hyunjin comments; Minho thinks he’s right — everything is so nice.

Nothing extraordinary, no heart-shaped balloons and fireworks, dramatic confessions and tears. Felix always brings a smile to his face, makes him laugh about the silliest things, gives the best hugs in the whole wide Universe, gets along with his grumpy cat and bakes otherworldly cookies. It’s mundane; so easy. With every passing second, as Minho gets to know more and more of him, it only gets better. 

“I told you you’d get along well.” Jisung breaks out in a smile. He turns back to face the road and jabs his finger into Hyunjin’s cheek. “Han Jisung is never wrong!” 

“Jesus, leave him alone, he’s driving!” 

“I got used to it, don’t worry,” Hyunjin tells Minho and, by the way he hasn’t even flinched when Jisung poked his face, he must be telling the truth.

Minho eases into the backseat but can’t help the teasing tone. “Yeah, but keep your hands to yourself, Han. I’d like to get to the party in one piece.”

Jisung instantly turns around again, seatbelts digging into the side of his neck. He sticks out his tongue at Minho like a five year old, before saying, “Of course you’d like to, bitch.” His expression melts into a smug grin, the one that precedes bullshit coming out of his mouth. “Are you looking forward to kissing Felix at midnight?” 

Minho doesn’t reply. He shoves his hand into Jisung’s face, pushing him back into his seat. By the laugh that escapes his lips, Minho knows Jisung got what he wanted. 

Hyewon’s house is in one of the prettier neighbourhoods. For the few years that Minho’s known her, all the New Year’s Eve parties have been organized at her place. It’s like an unwritten rule — everyone gathers in Gangnam on December 31st. 

The house itself is spacious and cosily furnished, on the more luxurious side, and has got a big garden they always watch fireworks from. Minho likes it even better now, on the day of the party, when there’s a Night Sky projector in the middle of the room, giving it a magical glow.

It's not one of those messy parties with empty bottles laid on the ground, waiting for someone to trip over, drunk people occupying bathrooms, vomiting their insides out. It’s more of a gathering, really — colorful drinks and snacks that no one would eat on an ordinary day, not too many people dancing around the middle of the room, chatting between friends you don’t see much on campus.

Minho steps into the open space of the house; his eyes scan the room almost unconsciously for a familiar face. He doesn’t have to look around too long — someone sticks a paper cup with a drink in his face; even without turning around Minho knows it’s Felix.

He takes a moment to properly look at Felix; at the rhinestones glued underneath his eyes, lips tinted pink and the almost completely see through black shirt. Nice. Minho needs a fucking drink. 

“You look pretty,” Felix tells him. He lifts his hand, hesitant at first, to let it travel up to Minho’s hair, run fingers through it. The way his touch sends shivers down Minho’s spine is embarrassing. “Very pretty.”

Minho doesn’t think he went off with his outfit — a white, printed T-Shirt, black skinny jeans and black denim jacket — but when he looked into the mirror back in his apartment, he felt good. And if Felix tells him he looks pretty, Minho has no other choice than to believe it. 

“Mhmm… maybe. But I think you look the prettiest.”

Felix laughs. Minho crumples the empty cup in his hand and throws it into the trash bin. “Alright. I know how it’s gon’ go. We’ll just compliment each other back and forth.” 

“Would it be that bad?”

Felix’s hands travel down to Minho’s shoulders; stay there for a moment before he slides them down Minho’s arms and takes one of his hands into his own. “It wouldn’t. But I kinda wanna dance with you right now.” 

Minho nods, fixes the hold so it’s more comfortable and follows Felix onto the makeshift dance floor. They find a free spot, a little bit of space in between the growing crowd of bodies.

His hands find their way to Felix’s waist; grip to pull him closer. Their eyes meet and Felix smiles; smiles so softly Minho’s breath hitches. Felix loops his arms around Minho’s neck — it’s so familiar. At any other moment, he’d think back to their earliest encounter, to the party, to the way Felix’s hands felt on his body for the first time; but this, the confidence and ease, is even better. 

Dancing is another, maybe more meaningful, way to speak. It’s letting the body talk, say things that are too nerve-racking to slip past lips. 

Felix spins around, laughs and, losing his balance, crashes into Minho’s chest. His eyes are sparkling, reflecting stars displayed on the ceiling, when he looks up. When their eyes lock, everything but them seems to disappear. The music thumps, loud, erratic, aligned with Minho's heartbeat. 

Felix lets go, shoots a daring glance his way and moves away to sway to the rhythm of the pop song blaring through the speakers. Head thrown back, he dances, rolls his body and spins. Locks eyes with Minho — sends him a smouldering glance, points a finger as if to say, ‘Watch me. I’m here, so look at me. Just me.’ 

He’s sober — Minho knows he is — so there’s no excuse why he’s dancing like this. But, whatever he’s doing, whatever he wants to earn this way, is working because Minho’s heart travels up to his throat and he wants to grab Felix, pull him close and never let go. 

Just as he takes a step forward, Jisung’s voice rings through his ears, louder than the music. “Damn, you’re so hot!” 

Minho bites back the whine of disappointment. Felix pants. Sweat drips down his exposed collarbones but Minho tears his eyes away, settles his gaze on Felix’s beautiful smile. Even though Jisung and Hyunjin are next to them now, it seems to be directed only at Minho. 

Felix comes closer, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Minho wants to slip an arm around his waist, where it belongs but Jisung crowds into their space, bouncing like a kid just to shout, “You kiss that boy right now or I will, Lee Minho!” right into his ear. 

Nice. Jisung always knows what to say. 

Minho glances to the side, glances at Felix, not really sure if this is the right moment — with so many people around, obnoxious pop song blasting in the air and their friends staring. He’s not really sure if it’s even what Felix wants. 

But his eyes are expectant, like he’s daring Minho to go for it. It would be so easy to lean in, press lips against Felix’s and watch the ground crumble underneath their feet. 

However, Minho is a romantic. Minho takes pleasure in the anticipation. Minho has a soft, yet selfish heart that doesn’t let him share this glamorous moment with anyone else. 

He leans in, though, and — just as Jisung calls, “Fucking turn around, they’re gonna kiss!” to Hyunjin — Minho tilts his head and plants a wet kiss on Felix’s cheek.

Felix giggles as Minho pulls away, his hand travelling up to the place that Minho’s lips touched. He looks up and the glim in his eyes hasn’t disappeared. Has it ever? 

Jisung seems utterly disappointed that they haven’t actually kissed but he forgets about it as soon as his ‘top listened song on Spotify’ begins. He throws his hands in the air, jumps around and bounces, singing as loud as he can. They all join in, even though none of them really know the lyrics. 

As another song starts and the words ‘ I don't wanna think about a moment with you, I'm kinda hoping for forever ’ blare through the living room, Minho can only look at Felix. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

It’s close to midnight when they decide to sneak out of the house, away from the crowd. Bodies sore from dancing, they lean on each other. Minho grips Felix’s hand like it’s lifeline. 

The sky is clear, as clear as it can be in the middle of a polluted city. Various sounds of music coming from around the neighbourhood blend into gibberish. Cold nips their cheeks but, huddled together, they don’t care. 

The stone porch steps get uncomfortable and — saying, “We’ll freeze our asses off, come on”—Felix stands up. He pulls Minho up to his feet, too and leads them through the front garden. It’s a dark, winter night — no flowers blooming, trees bare but Minho still thinks it’s one of the most beautiful moments of his life. 

He’s had a few more cups of punch and, despite the little amount of actual alcohol, feels warm all over. Snow squeaks underneath their feet, chilly breeze makes them scrunch their noses. With one single glance to the side, he finds Felix’s face glowing in the moon. The rhinestones catch light, sparkle but still not brighter than his eyes. 

Minho can’t really blame it on the alcohol. He just really wants to tell Felix how beautiful he is. Drunk or sober, it would happen sooner or later. 

“I like you,” Minho breathes out. It’s soft. So soft that he’s not sure if Felix even heard it, if his words didn’t just flow away with the wind. Therefore, he adds, “I like you so much.” 

He’s not scared to properly turn to Felix, to look at him and see exactly what’s written on his face. Felix has been so clear to read since the very first day they met. 

What Minho sees sweeps him off his feet, it’s unexpected. No matter how many times Felix smiles — smiles at him — it’s always gentle. It’s like soft rays of sun coming through the blinds on a spring morning, a sip of hot chocolate when the whole world is freezing, looking up at the night sky with someone you cherish.

But this time, it’s different. 

With lips in a pout, eyes glimmering, Felix looks like he might burst into tears. Minho blinks but, before he can ask if he’s done something wrong, if it’s a bad moment, Felix’s hand travels up to his face to softly caress it. 

“I like you so, so, so much,” he finally whispers and breaks into a delighted grin.

Minho’s heart flutters. There’s this boy in front of him that he likes, that he wants to fall in love with, and the boy likes him just the same. Minho doesn’t think there’s a feeling better than this; better than the millions of butterflies in his stomach, better than heart pounding so fast you couldn’t count the beats even if you tried to, better than million thoughts running through your head. 

Minho sighs as their foreheads touch. 

All the times he’s thought Felix might like him back don’t matter now because it’s reality now. It’s reality and one that makes Minho smile like he’s never smiled before. 

The words are out there, in the open, yet for Felix’s ears only. Minho should feel a weight come off his shoulders because he’s said out loud what he’s been thinking about non-stop but he doesn’t — it’s just an overwhelming sensation that makes him feel like flying. 

It’s only when fireworks one by one begin to set off, slicing the dark night sky with colors, Minho is reminded they’re in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

Felix lets out a startled chuckle, moving away but staying close enough that his warm breath tickles Minho’s face. He looks up at the sky, at the rainbow of colors and shapes, fascinated.

Minho doesn’t know what time it is, doesn’t know if the clock has already struck midnight, doesn’t know what happens now. He slips his hand into Felix’s, laces their fingers together in a warm hold. 

“Do you wanna go back now?”

Whatever comes now, Minho is ready. 

“Right now,” Minho starts, turning to face Felix. Slowly, he lifts one of his hands up—the other still holding Felix’s — and rests it on Felix’s face. He searches for any sign of discomfort — because Felix must realize what Minho wants to do — but there’s nothing. “Right now, I’d rather do this,” and then he leans in to kiss Felix.

Minho closes the space between them, sure like never before. Felix’s mouth is soft against his own, vanilla chapstick with a hint of alcohol. His hands travel up to loop around Minho’s neck, cold fingers pressed to his nape, pulling him closer and closer.

Minho doesn’t know if it’s the fireworks or just his heart pounding his ears, so loud that Felix — when their chests collide — can hear, too.

He wants to keep kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. He wants to feel Felix’s smile against his own and the way he’s pressed up against his body — forever. 

It’s a strange feeling to pull apart when you need air, when — at that very moment — Minho thinks all he needs might be just Felix. 

Minho pants, feels Felix’s hot breath on his face and melts at what he sees right in front of him. Felix’s face is flushed, lips red and glistening, eyes closed. Minho takes this intimate second to look at him, to move his hands to Felix’s waist, to pull him even closer because he just needs Felix closer. 

It’s a beautiful moment when Felix flutters his eyes open and breathes out. He looks ethereal. Minho thinks he’s very lucky; lucky to kiss him, lucky to have him in his arms, lucky to be the one Felix has feelings for. 

Felix’s eyes narrow dangerously but the content smile lingers on his lips when he lets out a sigh and smacks Minho on the shoulder.  

“ I wanted to kiss you first!”