Work Text:
It’s a white Christmas.
The little specks of white start fluttering from the sky just after noon, starting precariously slowly, as if the snowflakes would run out at any minute and the sky would shift its greyish white shade to a safer blue, but it had thickened with every minute and now falls in steady waves, the frozen grass covered with it, the car windscreens invisible now under a pile of softness.
Hwiyoung watches it fall through the window of his office, soaking in the silence. The emails he’d been typing furiously since this morning are abandoned for a moment as his eyes follow the trajectory of a clump of snowflakes that hit against the glass and melt, the water droplet they leave behind racing the rest of the snow to the ground. He’s a dozen flights up, and the view from his office window is starkly winter- white sky, white snow, the tips of barren trees in the distance. He can see the reflection of his tiny desktop christmas tree in the glass too, the only green thing in sight (though, of course, it’s artificial.) Not for the first time today, Hwiyoung wishes it were summer again. He’s colder in the winter too, just another frost thing.
Christmas had never been a big thing in his family. Almost every year, one of his parents was working, and even if they were both at home for the holidays, it was a casual affair, the half-heartedly decorated tree and gifts the only thing distinguishing it from the previous day and the next. When he was younger and still eager to make his own traditions, Hwiyoung spent the day with friends, going for dinner and exchanging presents and braving the snow to window shop, anything to pass the time together. It was a happy day for him if his friends were there, and he hadn’t minded spending his Christmases like that, especially after he’d started college. Then he’d met people that had made the holidays glow for him, people that would pick out gifts months in advance, that would insist on spending Christmas Eve together as well, to wake up in the same place, to make every second as warm as possible. Christmas had really been Christmas then; Hwiyoung had felt the difference like a physical thing, a fluttering flame in his chest, a smile that he couldn’t fight. Most of those people are still able to give him that feeling, that warmth, but not today. They’re older now, and though the distance is only a geographical thing, and with most of them he’s closer than he’s ever been, it’s still there. Inseong is travelling with his parents, Chani is studying in another city, Rowoon and Jaeyeoon and Youngbin have dates, other people to spend the holidays with.
So, the office.
Hwiyoung had been worried about the emails anyway. He can get everything settled before the new year far more easily this way. The snow continues to flutter down outside, and he keeps typing, keeps checking figures and making plans for the new year, keeps sipping his coffee and trying not to glance at the time too often, lest it move more slowly. The office is barren except for him, the boss always too invested in his work, always stuck at his computer, and the heating is off to save money, but that’s fine by him. There’s a little wireless space heater under his desk, and the coffee sits comfortably in his stomach, heating him from the inside out, and the slight chill he can feel from the rest of the office is kind of nice. It reminds him of the weather outside, of the impression of snowballs on his skin. Only when his pile of urgent mail has been sent and he realises he’s long since finished his coffee does he really feel the uncomfortable kind of cold. His back is stiff, and the snow has slowed outside. There’s no one but himself in the office, no one but himself to keep the urge to procrastinate at bay.
He stands for a moment at the window, appreciating the spiral of the falling snow and savouring what little heat is left in the room before he surrenders himself to the chill outside, pulling his jacket close around himself and slinging his scarf around his neck. His ears are immediately pink and numb, the tip of his nose rosy, but he takes in the freshness of the cold air gratefully, and walks past his usual coffeeshop in favour of stretching his legs a little more, appreciating the flicker of the city Christmas lights as he walks. The streets are just as empty as his office, which means the snow is clear and unpolluted, and it gives him a childish, euphoric thrill to step into the crisp blanket of smooth snow and leave the first mark there. The impression of his boots travel across the snow in wandering patterns, leaving his trail, and he laughs at himself when an unnoticed slither of ice makes him windmill his arms for balance, happy that no one is on the street to see him stumbling. He has his hands shoved in his pockets, but by the time he finds a coffeeshop in this more unfamiliar part of town, they’re tingling with the cold, the tips of his fingers scarlet, and he stands for a moment under the electric heater of the shop and rubs the sensation away. He thinks he’ll order a coffee and maybe a mince pie, since he’d spied a huge one through the windows that had been particularly tempting, and then he steps up to the counter and everything is forgotten.
The coffee shop is quiet, as expected, but not empty. There’s someone in the line in front of him, ordering, and even before he turns around, Hwiyoung’s stomach swoops with recognition. The ink-black of his hair, the way the light shines almost blue against it, the height, the build, even the way he carries himself, all are painfully familiar to Hwiyoung. He’d know him anywhere.
Taeyang’s laughter lights up the quiet coffee shop. It had been a year and a half since Hwiyoung had heard that sound, but it feels so much longer, an eternity of silence, only broken now with the short, happy giggle that ends all too soon. Everything has been on mute since he’d last heard that sound, but Hwiyoung only now realises that, only now realises how he’d missed the rise and fall of it, only now realises how unbearably quiet everything else is in comparison.
He should say something. He shouldn’t be standing here behind him, waiting for his turn, saying nothing as if they were strangers. But a year and a half lies between them. It seems insurmountable. Everything he can think to say doesn’t cover the distance, sounds clumsy and unlike himself and not enough, not nearly enough. And then Taeyang is beaming at the barista and taking his coffee- hot chocolate probably, since it’s the holidays, and Hwiyoung can remember standing in line for the other boy’s order too many times on snowy days like this to forget his preferences- and he’s turning around and their eyes meet. Taeyang’s smile wavers, and he stops.
“Tae.”
There’s a horrible moment where the name hangs between them, when Hwiyoung wishes he could take it back. He isn’t Tae anymore, at least not to him. Maybe someone else uses that name now, maybe someone else’s voice holds more familiarity than his own, more fondness. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, and they could have nodded awkwardly to each other and Taeyang would have brushed past him and back out into the snow-
And then Taeyang grins, and Hwiyoung gasps as the breath is knocked out of him, Taeyang throwing himself across the distance and wrapping his arms around Hwiyoung’s shoulders. Only for a moment, Hwiyoung hesitates, and then he’s choking on a laugh and letting his arms go around Taeyang’s waist, hugging him just as tightly. Taeyang’s sigh tickles his neck, sends shivers across his skin more than the snow ever could.
“I’ve missed you.”
Hwiyoung catches the eye of the barista in front of him, and draws away. “What are you doing here? You’re never out on Christmas.”
The days of spending Christmas wandering around town with friends had ended when they’d met Taeyang. He’d insisted that Christmas was an indoor event, that it couldn’t be properly spent if not around a fireplace with a mug in your hand, with a meal made at home, with a window between you and the snow and a room full of your favourite people. It had been a welcomed change for the rest of them, easily accepted. There had been two Christmases like that. If Hwiyoung had dreamed them, they couldn’t have been more perfect. But that’s just Taeyang. They could have spent Christmas freezing on a beach somewhere, and it would still have been perfect to Hwiyoung.
“I, um, I just moved here. We’re unpacking right now, me and mum, but I don’t have a kettle yet, so…”
“You’re back in town?”
Taeyang nods a little shyly. Hwiyoung wonders if he’s thinking about the same thing he is, that day at the airport when they said it wouldn’t be goodbye. It had been snowing then too, the end of January, when the snow stops being a magic thing and starts being a nuisance. Hwiyoung had thought they were going to be fine, that they could keep going despite the distance, but it hadn’t lasted. Their video calls every week were tortuous to both of them in the end, when they ran out of things to say that wasn’t ‘ I miss you’ again and again in different phrasing, ‘ did you eat’ s and ‘ how’s the weather’ s and everything else they just stopped saying eventually.
If he’d known it meant goodbye, then, would Taeyang still have gotten on that plane?
If Hwiyoung asks and gets a no, it’ll be goodbye all over again. He doesn’t think he’ll survive another one of those.
“For how long?” he asks instead, hoping Taeyang catches his meaning anyway.
There’s no definitive negative, just a shrug that fills Hwiyoung with trepidation. Taeyang is smiling, though, when he says, “We’ll see. For now, I’m back.”
He shuffles the take-out-coffee tray in his hand uncertainly. His eyes stray to the counter, and Hwiyoung makes a startled sound and strides the rest of the way. His order doesn’t take long- just a black coffee, and the barista seems very eager to fill it and rid his shop of the very obvious tension hanging around them.
Hwiyoung turns and sees Taeyeang is still there, a few paces away, waiting for him. He shoves his hands in his pockets with a note of finality, stealing himself to walk past and into the cold again. “Don’t let me keep you, then-”
“What about you?” Taeyang interrupts, following. His eyes are deep and dark and just as beautiful as Hwiyoung remembers them, trained on his intently, expectantly. “D’you live around here now? What are you doing for the holidays?”
He reaches for the door and holds it open, though there are two drinks balanced in his hands and only one in Hwiyoung’s, and then they’re out in the snow again. As the coffee shop heating is left behind, he shivers further into his dark coat, shoving his free hand in his pocket.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder is something Hwiyoung had said himself, when they parted. It’s bullshit, obviously. He’s never been fonder than now.
It scares him. It’s too much to fit in his chest, this sudden warm feeling again, after so long trying to forget what it felt like. He shrugs a little awkwardly and looks away.
“Dad was working until noon, so I got a few hours in at the office as well. We’ll have dinner later, do gifts then.”
“You’re working around here? Where?” If he hadn’t wanted to see Hwiyoung too, their conversation would have ended already. Taeyang is keeping them both here, in the cold, keeping his family waiting, out on Christmas day to nod as Hwiyoung mentions his new workplace and look concerned as he asks, “They’re treating you well enough?”
“They kind of have to,” Hwiyoung half-laughs, the surprise in his voice not nearly enough to cover up the fondness, “I’m the boss.”
Taeyang’s eyes widen. “The boss? Hwiyoung , why are you working on Christmas day!”
Hwiyoung shrugs, ducking his chin to his chest. “Everyone’s busy.”
When they met, he’d felt it instantly- Taeyang was the cool older guy that’d been so sure of himself, so certain what he wanted, and so unexpectedly soft, always so kind, so concerned over him. Hwiyoung, even now, when he’s far more sure of himself too, can’t help feeling a little scolded. His voice is closer to a mumble as he says, “I didn’t know you were back.”
Taeyang looks a little scolded too. He looks down, and Hwiyoung only notices that they’ve stopped walking now as he watches the other boy trail a boot across the snow, shuffling it off the path.
“Yeah, well,” Taeyang says, “I wanted to get settled first.”
He’s shame-faced as he shuffles the coffee tray to his other hand and shoves the now frostbitten one in the pocket of his long coat, looking more at the ground than at Hwiyoung. “You should- you should come see the place when it’s done,” he says. “I think you’d like it, it has a nice view.”
Hwiyoung eyes him toying with the snow and avoiding his eyes, and, without thinking about it, finds himself asking- “Would you have thought of me at all if we hadn’t crossed paths?”
Taeyang’s gaze jumps back up to his, his eyes wide with surprise. “I’m always thinking of you, Hwiyoung.”
The confession has both of them going quiet. Taeyang presses his lips together in a line, as if he wants to take it back, but he doesn’t.
“I should have called,” he says eventually. “I was going to- really, I was.”
Hwiyoung sighs at himself. “Sorry. I don’t know why I-”
Before the apology can even be made, Taeyang is batting it away. “I get it,” he says, and it sounds like he really does. His gaze softens, flickering slowly over Hwiyoung’s face, the berated downturn to his lips, the line of his jaw above his coat collar. He’d lost weight since the last time they saw each other. His hair’s longer, tucked around his ear.
Taeyang’s voice is dreamlike, far off. “It’s been too long, right?”
Self-consciously, Hwiyoung bats a strand of hair away from his forehead. The gesture makes Taeyang smile.
“Come visit me,” he says.
Hwiyoung nods, taking a sip of the coffee he’d already almost forgotten about. It looks like Taeyang’s waiting for some kind of answer, so he says, “Sure,” and then, when that doesn’t seem to do it, points at the tray in the other boy’s hand and adds, “Your drinks will be getting cold, you should get back.”
Taeyang had definitely forgotten about his drinks too. He looks a little surprised to see they’re still in his hand. He laughs at himself. “Right. Um-” he takes a step backward, the distance between them growing again, and something in Hwiyoung twists uncomfortably, only slightly relieved to see Taeyang hesitate and turn another smile on him, adding, “But, I’ll see you around, right?”
Hwiyoung tries his best to return the smile. “Sure.”
The older boy’s eyes narrow. “I mean it, Hwiyoung, you should come over. Soon.”
“Alright.” Taeyang gives him another dubious look, one brow raised as he keeps stepping away, and Hwiyoung laughs. “Alright, alright, I will.”
And like that, their paths go in different directions again. Hwiyoung has a taxi to hail, a family dinner on the other side of town, and Taeyang has a new flat here, in the middle of the city, boxes to unpack and his own family waiting on him.
He must have been busy, Hwiyoung thinks. Taeyang would never spend his Christmas like this if he could unpack any other time. Maybe his landlord had insisted he move in by a certain time, or maybe he’d left his old place in a hurry. Could he have a job here already? Had he just been dying to live in this city again after being gone for so long?
He’d left quickly then, too. He’d been at the same college as Hwiyoung, in the year above, set to graduate when the call came in, an opportunity to study at an academy overseas, somewhere with prestige, somewhere that could get him places. He couldn’t pass it up- Hwiyoung had encouraged him, too, told him they could still see each other when he came home for the holidays, that they could still call. Then Taeyang had assignments, and another job to pay his rent, and then a mentoring gig. The calls had gotten fewer and further between, and then they’d stopped altogether.
Hwiyoung would do the same thing now, if he had any choice in the matter. If they turned back time, he’d still tell him to go. He knows Taeyang was happy there, that the academy was where he wanted to be, even when it was hard to bear the distance. It was Hwiyoung that should have tried harder. They could have tried to see each other more often. He could have gone to visit more than he did, made sure to text everyday. It might have turned out differently then, right? Taeyang might have came back sooner, then. Maybe Hwiyoung would be overseas with him, instead.
Hwiyoung is too wrapped up in his thoughts to hear the voice calling to him at first. He thinks he’s imagining the echo of Taeyang’s voice, thinks he’s daydreaming when he hears it call his name, because of course he’d daydreamed it before, when he’d been walking alone in the city and telling himself it could be there one day amongst the sounds of the traffic and the conversation and the bustle of the streets, even when he knew it was impossible. Taeyang was hundreds of miles away then- the voice he’d thought he’d heard couldn’t be his. But he’s right behind him now, and the second time Hwiyoung hears his name is even closer than the first, and he turns around and it’s real, he’s real, Taeyang staring back at him only a few feet away, one arm raised in the air as if to wave for his attention, except there’s something in his hand and then-
Hwiyoung yelps as a snowball hits the side of his face, smacking against the edge of his ear and exploding, sending ice shards down his jaw and slipping down his neck.
“Wha-Tae!”
The protest is pointless. Taeyang probably can’t even hear him over the sound of his own laughter- the image of Hwiyoung’s shocked face as the snowball hit, the sound of his deep voice startled into a higher register, has him throwing his head back and howling with laughter, his smile stretching ear to ear, his eyes crinkled with mirth, his cheeks rosy with more than the chill. More than the unexpected collision, the sight knocks the breath out of Hwiyoung. He’s dizzy with it, with the fluttering feeling in his stomach.
“What was that for?”
“Just because,” Taeyang laughs, walking back towards him. “You didn’t hear me the first time anyway.”
Hwiyoung breathes a chuckle and knocks snow from his hair. “Nice throw.”
“Thanks.” Taeyang stops in front of him, only a pace or two away again. His head tips to the side, his hair flopping. “I was wondering.”
Hwiyoung tries without success to avoid staring at the way his lips have stretched into a slyer grin. “What?”
Taeyang definitely notices- his head tips further, so Hwiyoung’s eyes jump back up to his own, and there’s obviously amusement in his voice as he asks, “What are your plans for New Years Eve? Think you could make some time for me?”
New Year's Eve had stopped becoming a thing for Hwiyoung once Taeyang wasn’t a part of it. He’d spent the first one after the breakup trying to fend off Inseong and Jaeyoon, who both insisted they should get the kiss at midnight, and it just hadn’t felt the same. The second one he’d spent with family. It felt a little less like people were trying to cover up a gaping hole, but it was still…not right.
He hesitates, wary of the hopeful spark in his chest. “Are you sure?”
Taeyang nods. “Make time for me,” he says, more authority in his voice this time. “New Year's Eve, my place. I can give you the tour.”
“I-”
“Say yes,” the older boy says. Whatever demand could be behind the words are softened by the almost pleading look in his eyes. “Please. It’s been too long.”
The nerves melt away. Hwiyoung nods. “Far too long.”
“Then New Year's Eve,” Taeyeang insists. His smile is brilliant now, whiter than the snow, shining, ear to ear. His eyes on Hwiyoung’s are more certain now, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, seeing Hwiyoung looking back at him with more certainty too.
A snowflake lands in Taeyang’s dark hair and melts in an instant. Hwiyoung sees it, there one moment and gone the next, and knows he won’t settle for the same.
His own boldness surprises himself, but he guesses the year and a half apart has made him desperate, and subtly can’t be afforded when they’ve missed so much time already.
So he asks, “What about New Years?”
Taeyang’s laughter is bright, full-bellied. He’d been surprised too, but he doesn’t take long to recover.
“Valentines Day, too, I hope?” he asls, looking Hwiyoung straight in the eye, their gaze familiar- but new too, some new secret passing between them, turning them into conspirators, bolder and slyer than they were before.
“And then your birthday.”
The wide grin Taeyang had been wearing becomes another kind entirely, close-lipped, wobbling and bashful, more in his eyes than on his lips, his eyes that are creased around the edges, that are impossibly gentle. “You remember?”
Hwiyoung returns his smile just as gently. “Everything,” he says.
It brings a blush to Taeyang’s cheeks. “Your number’s the same? Then I’ll call you.” Just when Hwiyoung begins to dread the goodbye, thinks that Taeyang is about to turn away and march in the other direction, the older boy catches his arm, leans in, and plants a kiss on his cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Hwiyoung.”
Now, Taeyang starts to step away. This time, Hwiyoung doesn’t think about chasing him, doesn’t wonder whether this is the last time they’ll see each other. The goodbye is temporary, and with his cheek still blazing with the shock of the kiss, he finds he can live with that, for now. Taeyang, looking just as flushed, glances over his shoulder and gives him a little wave.
“Text me your address,” Hwiyoung calls after him.
Taeyang frowns a little as he turns, walking backwards so he can see Hwiyoung’s face. “Why?”
Hwiyoung shakes his head. “Just do it.” He gives Taeyang a wave too, and promises, “I’ll see you New Year's Eve.”
This is enough to appease him: Taeyang smiles one last time, and then turns around. Hwiyoung watches him go for only a moment before he’s turning too, sipping his coffee, his other hand going to the phone in his jacket pocket. He calls for a taxi, making a quick stop, giving the address Taeyang had sent him to a delivery boy before he gets back into the cab and speeds towards home. He’s hardly aware that he’s smiling all the way.
The text arrives a few hours later, when dinner is finishing up. Hwiyoung sets his plate in the sink and leans back against the kitchen counter, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening the new message. It’s from an unknown number, but if Hwiyoung hadn’t already been able to guess who’d sent it, the boy in the photo gives it away. It’s a selfie at a strange angle, Taeyang bending at the waist so his head is level with his own kitchen counter, the shimmer of a silver kettle behind him and a mug raised to his lips, partly covering his smile.
Thanks , is all the message says. There had been no name on the box, no indication as to who could have sent it, but of course, that had been obvious too.
Hwiyoung smiles, saves the image to his gallery, and types back, Merry Christmas, Tae.
After a moment's hesitation, he saves the number to his contacts again. The random collection of numbers turns to 'Tae' again, and even before Hwiyoung has managed to take his eyes off of the name and save it, there's another ding, another text coming in. That sound, knowing who's causing it, knowing it's going to keep sounding, again and again just like it used to, knowing that when he hears it, Tae will flash across his phone screen with all of its old familiarity...well, it's the best thing Hwiyoung has ever gotten for Christmas.