Archive of Our Own

Dongju was in elementary school the first time he met a calamity. He had been walking home with his brother when the two decided to stop at a convenience store on the way back to buy popsicles with the small allowance their mother had given them. Dongmyeong had rushed inside to pick up the treats and pay after losing their rock-paper-scissors battle while Dongju had traced a crack on the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe, leaning against the store’s wall.

He looked around listlessly. It was the beginning of spring, and the air was thick with pollen. Though Dongju was alright, his brother had been sneezing more than usual and there were plenty of kids in his class that had perpetual runny noses and sniffles. Dongju thought the whole thing was pretty gross.

He was about to go in and see what was taking Dongmyeong so long (the other had a annoying habit of waffling for too long over decisions), when the sky above him abruptly darkened. Dongju looked up in alarm to see a puffy dark gray cloud passing in front of the sun. There wasn’t supposed to be rain that day, Dongju thought, or else their mother would have sent him and his brother to school with their matching umbrellas. He shifted from one foot to another uneasily, hoping Dongmyeong would hurry up so they wouldn’t get caught in the rain.

It was then that Dongju saw a man approaching in the distance, a darkness seeming to follow him as he walked, every step darkening more and more of the street. Dongju gaped at the man as not only did the other seem to have shadows dogging his footsteps, but he was crying.

The tears weren’t the thin trickles of frustration Dongju had seen on his brother’s cheeks when he was scolded by their mother or even the warm rivulets that had involuntarily poured down Dongju’s own cheeks the last time he fell off his bicycle and skinned his knee. These tears were like someone had turned on a faucet behind the man’s eyes, a river’s worth of water flowing down his face and dripping off his chin in a steady stream. Oddly enough, the man didn’t seem to pay the tears any notice, except to brush the wet strands of hair that had been plastered to his face by the deluge out of his eyes.

As the man drew closer Dongju wondered what he should do. He could run inside the convenience store and get his brother or ask the clerk to call their mother. Dongju was pretty sure he remembered their home number alright, and even if he didn’t his mother had written it on a card in a pocket on his backpack. He could also just hide in the store until the man passed. And yet… Dongju recalled what his mother had always said about showing kindness to others, especially those who were having a hard time. Surely if this man was crying then Dongju should help him, right?

Decision made, Dongju quickly dropped his backpack from his shoulders and began to dig through it. He resurfaced with a partially used pack of tissues in hand. The man was nearly level with him now, and Dongju knew it was either now or never.

“Excuse me, mister!” He said, projecting his voice loud and clear like his teacher had taught him.

The man paused and looked around the empty street before he turned his head toward Dongju. Up close, Dongju saw that the man’s eyes were bloodshot. “Me?” He asked, pointing to himself as his eyebrows rose in confusion.

“Yes, mister!” Dongju said, “Are- are you okay? You’re crying a lot.” He held out the tissues to the man.

The man blinked slowly, the tears cutting off for a brief instant before resuming their stream. The ground around him began to darken from the stream of water. “I’m alright,” he said. Dongju noticed that the man’s voice didn’t seem to be affected at all by his current state. “But you should get home soon.”

“I will! I’m waiting for my brother!” Dongju said with all the bright eyed trust of a child. He kept holding the tissue packet awkward.

The man nodded and finally took the tissues. “I see. Then tell your mother that if she has any laundry outside to bring it in. A storm’s coming,” the man said, looking toward the sky. It was now steadily darkening. “It’s going to be a big one,” he said, looking back to Dongju. “Thanks for the tissues.”

The man turned back to resume his walk down the street. The clouds darkened slowly in his wake and the trail of water on the ground grew longer and longer. Dongju watched the man until he could barely hear the sound of water striking the concrete anymore.

“Hey, you ready?”

Dongju spun around to see his brother standing behind him, a popsicle clutched in each hand. He hadn’t even heard the other come outside despite the small bell hanging over the door to the convenience store.

“I saw-“ Dongju began, only to be interrupted by a distant rumble of thunder.

“Let’s go home,” Dongmyeong said, “It’s gonna rain.”

The two of them set off on the path as the rumbling grew louder and more insistent. They reached their front door right as the first drops of rain started to fall. Dongmyeong scurried into the kitchen with their popsicles as soon as the two of them had dropped their shoes and bags in the entryway. Dongju rushed to follow him, but paused when he passed their mother who was in the middle of stirring a pot on the stove for dinner.

“Mom,” he said, wondering if he should tell her about the strange man he saw outside of the convenience store.

“Yes, dear?” She asked, looking up from the stew.

Dongju opened his mouth, but reconsidered. “I…I think we need to bring the laundry in. It’s going to rain.”

“What?” His mother looked out the window and saw the beginning’s of rain falling and quickly set her spoon down on a towel next to the stove. “Oh dear, that wasn’t in the day’s forecast,” she said, quickly bustling out of the kitchen and out their back door into the yard.

That evening as he sat at the dining table with his family, Dongju’s mind returned once more to the odd man he’d seen outside the convenience store. He wondered how the man had predicted rain when not even the weather forecaster could. He also wondered what the other had been crying about to have that many tears.

The storm that passed over the town that night was one of the worst ones to hit the area in decades.

Dongju encountered a number of strange people in the years following his initial meeting with the man whose tears brought storms.

There was a woman he spoke to in middle school just outside a farmer’s market whose smile was so bright and sunny that it made Dongju feel warm just by proximity, even though it hurt his eyes to look directly at her teeth. The next day the town experienced an unusually long heat wave that had led to him and his brother taking many, many trips to the local public swimming pool.

Two years later Dongju saw a middle aged man in a sharp gray suit sneeze, and at that a gale of wind burst through the street, so strong that it overturned trash cans and even set off a nearby car’s alarm. That following evening Dongju found himself and his family crowded in their tiny basement with all their pets in an attempt to hunker down against an unexpected twister. Luckily, the disaster missed their house.

His senior year of high school, right after getting pictures with Dongmyeong in their graduation outfits, a bouquet of roses clutched in his hand, Dongju saw a girl who couldn’t possibly be older than six huff angrily at the edge of the celebration. He wondered at first, absently, if she was one of his classmates’ younger sister, but then she stomped her foot in frustration as someone walked past her without a glance, and immediately the ground itself shook. Dongju’s eyes widened as screams broke out around the grounds, some of the people clutching onto nearby tables, chairs or even each other as the earth rumbled. He turned back to the girl, wide-eyed, but she seemed to have gotten bored and was walking away from the group. Dongju did not have a chance to pursue her as a number of people rushed around him, hurrying to their cars or to check on their families.

From that point on Dongju realized he was dealing with the forces of nature personified, embodiments of natural disasters and weather phenomena that could have catastrophic outcomes. No one else appeared to notice these people(?), often walking right past them and blissfully unaware of the future misfortune their presence warned of. Calamities, Dongju called them, and not without a healthy dose of wariness. He wasn’t sure how much they truly affected the weather patterns, but from his few encounters with the different calamities he tentatively thought that the older the calamities were, the worse the destruction would be. It was both a curse and a blessing, Dongju thought, that he was able to see them. Certainly they were bad omens, but they also would allow him to prepare for something bad that might happen, and hopefully warn others. And perhaps… perhaps he could see if he could persuade one of them not to unleash their destruction if that was something they were capable of stopping.

It was for this reason that the next time Dongju, now twenty one, stopped mid-stride in the middle of an outside shopping strip when he saw a man leaning on a lamp post in the middle of the shopping area. He was fairly young, though probably still older than Dongju, and Dongju watched as the strange man rubbed  his hands together, as if to ward off the cold. Unexpectedly though, a light dusting of white powder fell from the man’s hands onto the ground, and as it did the lamp post behind him flickered briefly. The shopping area was packed with the holiday crowd rushing to and fro, and none of them paid any mind to the man as they hurried on their own paths, some of them bumping into Dongju in their haste.

Despite the dirty looks, Dongju found himself rooted to the spot. As he watched the man closer, he was quick to realize that the strange man wasn’t dusting chalk off his hands, but snow, enough to make a small pile at the other’s feet. The man’s eyes met Dongju’s as he sent another cloud of snowflakes drifting to the ground as the light continued flickering. His irises were an icy blue. Dongju squeezed the handles of the paper shopping bag he was carrying tighter, briefly considering his next course of action, before rushing toward the other.

“Excuse me!” He called. The calamity didn’t move from his spot leaning against the edge of the large stone fountain in the middle of the shopping center square as he watched Dongju draw closer, but his eyes lit up in intrigue. Dongju stopped a foot away from the man, and shivered slightly. It felt as though the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees. “Excuse me,” he said again, gritting his jaw in a futile effort to stop his chattering teeth.

“Yes?” The man said, the corners of his mouth tilting upward in a bemused smile. Now next to him Dongju took in the other’s pure white hair and how the man’s skin was tinged faintly blue. His brown hair was streaked with silver patterns like frost tracks on a window. His clothes were a nondescript pairing of a dark blue sweater and jeans, but both had snowflakes clinging to the threads. His voice was quiet but clear, like a cold snap of winter wind.

“You,” Dongju paused, not totally sure how to address the other, “Uh, you’re…”

The man ran his fingers through his hair, causing another flurry of snowflakes to scatter from the silver threaded strands. “I’m…?” The man said, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Dongju was suddenly grateful for how cold it was around the man, because he was sure his cheeks would be heating with embarrassment otherwise. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You can control the weather, can’t you? Like the others can?”

“The others?” The man asked, sounding confused, before recognition sparked in his eyes. “You must be the one Keonhee was talking about. He said you gave him tissues.”

Dongju’s eyes widened as a faint memory from years ago suddenly resurfaced. He recalled the strange man who had tears streaming down his face, enough to nearly flood the sidewalk with. He also remembered how it had rained for days after the encounter. Was the other still walking around, flooding streets and dragging storm clouds in his wake?

“That was a while ago,” Dongju said.

“Was it?” The man said, looking bemused.

“Fifteen years ago,” Dongju said, eyebrows rising.

“Hm,” the man said, cocking his head thoughtfully, “I guess it has been a while since we’ve talked then. I should text him.” He reached into his pocked and pulled out his phone, snow spilling from his pocket in the process, and shook the device to clear the screen of the frost. He dragged a blue tinted finger across the phone’s surface. “Swipe up, swipe- for fuck’s sake.” He gave Dongju a long suffering look. “These touch screens never work with cold hands, I swear.”

“Uh…huh,” Dongju said. He watched in silence tinged with uncertainty as the man continued to fuss with his phone. It was only after the man apparently managed to unlock his device that Dongju chanced speaking again. “So are you going to…make it snow here?”

The other man looked up from his phone with a distantly annoyed expression. “Huh? Oh.” He looked at the ground as if he had just noticed the snow piling up around his feet. “Probably.”

“Could you…maybe not do that?” Dongju asked, words trailing off toward the end as the other’s expression grew unimpressed. “I mean. It’s the holidays and there are a bunch of people who are going to be traveling soon and if there’s a blizzard then it’ll be hard for people to go home or visit here and-“

“Geez, man, calm down,” the calamity said, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I guess I don’t have to cause a blizzard.”

Dongju blinked. “I…are you sure?”

“Yeah,” the calamity said with a shrug. “I was just bored.”

“You all cause disasters because you’re bored?!” Dongju blurted, incredulous.

He shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, it’s the only thing we really can do being like this. People can’t see us otherwise.”

“Uh… so what exactly are you then?” Dongju asked.

“Huh,” the man’s brow furrowed pensively, “It’s kind of hard to explain.” He suddenly pushed away from the fountain. “Let’s walk and talk, people are starting to think you’re crazy talking to thin air like this.”

“What?” Dongju looked around to see that yep, people were definitely giving him odd looks. Could none of them really see the man in front of Dongju? Evidently not if the way a young mother looked at him warily before tugging her daughter along behind her was any indication. He felt his cheeks warm. “I, uh, wireless earbuds,” he explained to no one, and got no discernible reaction. “Let’s just go,” he grumbled under his breath as he hurriedly gestured for the now grinning snow calamity to start walking.

It was only when they had gotten a fair distance away from thee crowd and onto the streets that Dongju spoke to the man again. “So what are you?”

“Have you ever been lonely?” The man asked in place of an answer.

“What?” Dongju said.

“Have you ever been lonely?” The man repeated, icy gaze boring into him . “Like, really lonely. Not just ‘my friend went on vacation for a week so now I’m just playing video games in my room by myself until they get back’, like actually lonely. Like you could be in a room full of people and feel alone. Or like you wish you could just disappear forever.”

“I…” Dongju wasn’t quite sure how to respond, “Maybe once or twice?”

“Hm,” the man said, “You’re lucky then. For some people that’s how they feel all the time. They can’t connect with others. They retreat inward and all their insecurities and emotions, their anger, sadness, fear, et cetera, it all builds into this bone deep loneliness that just makes them want to vanish.” He let out a slow breath, air clouding slightly in front of him, “And then they do. And all their emotions manifest as, well…” He trailed a hand along the brick wall next to them as they walked, leaving a trail of frost in his fingertips’ wake.

Dongju paused, waiting for the other to continue, but he seemed to have finished saying what he wanted to. “You mean you were a person once?”

“Yeah,” the calamity said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “A couple decades ago. I think I grew up near here.”

“You think?”

“I don’t remember much of my time before this,” he gestured to himself, “all happened. I think it’s better that way. Why would I want to remember something that made me so sad in the first place?”

“But what about your family?” Dongju asked.

The man shrugged. “I guess they think I disappeared. Maybe think I’m dead.”

Dongju frowned. “Have you tried to contact them?”

“No,” the man said, “It’s been decades. I think I’d just scare them if I reached out at this point.”

“That’s,” Dongju searched for a word, “Sad.”

“Is it?” The man wondered, “I guess. I don’t think about things like that for too long.” He said it so carelessly that Dongju wondered if the man had been this socially distant back when he was… mortal? A person?

“What do you do now then? Now that you’re a ca-“ Dongju cut himself off, “I mean, now that you’re like that?”

“What did you almost call me?” The man asked, looking interested.

“Nothing,” Dongju said quickly, ears burning at the lie.

The man’s blue eyes lit up with amusement. “Tell me!” He wheedled.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing! I came up with it in middle school,” Dongju snapped.

“I promise I won’t laugh,” the man said solemnly, putting a hand over his heart. Dongju squinted at him distrustfully.

“Promise?”

“On my every cold front.”

Dongju sighed. “I called you ‘calamities’.”

The man broke into a smile. “Oh, I was totally about to make fun of you, but that’s actually pretty cool!”

“You were going to make fun of me?” Dongju pouted.

“Just a little,” the man said, waving him off.

“God, you’re a dick.”

“I know,” the man said, “But I have to ask, why that name?”

Dongju frowned. “I guess it was just because whenever I saw people like you there was always a weather disaster afterwards. Tornados, earthquakes, thunderstorms… I thought you were all harbingers of doom or something.”

“That’s not bad reasoning,” the man said, “Pretty close to the truth.”

“But you said you could stop the disasters,” Dongju said.

“Yes,” the man agreed, “Usually we all just cause storms or floods or what have you wherever we go because it’s something to do when you can’t be seen by most of the general population, but now I’ve found something interesting.” He grinned at Dongju.

“What, me?” Dongju asked after a beat.

He laughed, the sound like ice shattering underfoot. “Yes, you. It’s been decades since someone other than the other ‘calamities’ saw me. It’s… interesting.”

“I guess I’d use the same word for meeting you,” Dongju said. He could at least give the other ‘interesting’. “Do you really not have a word for people like you though?”

“Not really,” the man said, “We don’t hang around each other much, at least not enough to have a word for our situation.”

“I thought you talked to another one sometimes,” Dongju pointed out, “Uh, Keonhee?”

“Oh yeah,” the man said, “There are a couple I know of, but Keonhee was probably the last one I talked to and we haven’t spoken in a while. Hm, maybe I should call him here.”

“Here?” Dongju couldn’t keep the trepidation out of his voice, “Are you guys going to make like… freezing rain?”

The man laughed again. “No, I promise we’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Is this like your other promise that you planned on breaking?” Dongju asked, crossing his arms.

“Guess you’ll see,” the man said, eyes glinting like ice. “But honestly I think he’ll get too much of a kick out of it to cause too much trouble. He could use something to smile about every now and then.”

“He was crying a lot,” Dongju said, “The last time I saw him.”

“Yeah, he’s been through a lot,” the man agreed, “He’s younger than me, on a number of levels. I don’t think he’d been a calamity for very long before you met him. He was probably still coming to terms with it. Hopefully he’s settled down some by now.”

Dongju sighed. “I guess that means you’ll both be bothering me then?”

“You catch on fast,” the man said cheerfully. He pulled out his phone once more and frowned as he started struggling with the touch screen once more.

Dongju looked away as they continued down the sidewalk. He hadn’t really been paying attention to the direction they’d been walking, but when he looked around he could see strings of lights trailing from the trees that lined the sidewalk, all leading to town square two blocks away. He could see the top of a Christmas tree already lit up despite it being the first week of December.

“Hey,” Dongju said suddenly, turning to the snow calamity, “What’s your name?”

“My name?” The man said, finger hovering over his phone. He frowned slightly. “It’s been a while since I was asked that.” His eyes grew distant, frosting over slightly like ice spreading across a pond. “It’s Youngjo.”

“Youngjo,” Dongju said, testing the name out. “Well how do you plan on finding me again? Is there some kind of secret, magic calamity GPS power I don’t know about?”

“You could just give me your phone number,” Youngjo said, lips tilting upward. He held his phone out toward Dongju and shook it enticingly.

Dongju scoffed. “You really think I’m going to give my number to the embodiment of a natural disaster who seems hellbent on turning the town into a snow-covered safety hazard?”

“Yes?” Youngjo ventured.

“Why should I give you my number, especially when it sounds like you’re inviting more disaster here?”

“Because we’re friends?” Youngjo said.

Dongju gave him a deadpan look. “Try again.”

“Because you’re a little curious, deep down?” Youngjo said.

Dongju frowned. He couldn’t really deny the other’s words. He was a little curious about Youngjo and all the strange people he’d met in the years since he first saw the man with a downpour streaming from his eyes. This could be the only chance he’d ever have to really talk with one of them.

“Fine,” Dongju finally caved, resolutely ignoring Youngjo’s fist pump as he swiped the phone from the calamity’s hand. “But only because I want to make sure none of you freeze us all into our homes.”

“Sure, sure,” Youngjo said, smile not leaving his face as Dongju shoved the phone back in his hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll all play nice.” He lifted a hand and ruffled Dongju’s hair. Dongju let out a yelp of protest as the other’s ice cold fingers brushed across his scalp.

Five days passed with no word from Youngjo.

When Dongju had managed to stumble home on the evening he’d met the calamity, he almost thought he’d daydreamed the whole encounter. His brother had questioned him briefly for returning nearly two hours later then he’d promised to be home at, but his brother had just shrugged in acceptance when Dongju had given a half assed excuse about finding extra presents for their parents when they went home for the winter break. He had almost convinced himself it was all imagined, until he checked his phone later that night and saw a text from an unknown number that just said.

Good news! Rain man’s on his way soon!

“What’s wrong?” Dongju asked, coming out from the bathroom and still steaming slightly from his shower. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dongju had shaken his head. “It’s nothing. Just. I think the weather might be changing soon.” He hadn’t replied to Youngjo’s text at the time and he left the snow calamity on read ever since. He wondered if the other had been miffed by Dongju’s lack of response, or if he had even noticed at all given that the passage of time didn’t seem to register with the other in the same way it did with normal humans.

Since then, however, Dongju hadn’t seen any sign of Youngjo, Keonhee, or any other calamity. He kept his eyes peeled for anyone who might be slightly out of the ordinary, but it was oddly quiet. There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky as Dongju prepared for his midterm exams. He sighed and let his head fall forward to thud against his open textbook. He had read the same sentence at least five times and had yet to have it stick in his brain.

Two hours later, Dongju gave up on studying and resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to focus for the rest of the day. He packed up his books and laptop with a fuzzy brain and only managed to get moving by mentally promising himself that he’d stop by his favorite coffee shop on the way back for a peppermint hot chocolate and then stop by fried chicken place next door to pick up a box to go. It was a treat he didn’t usually allow himself of in an effort to save money, but Dongju reasoned he’d had a long day and he deserved it.

It was cold outside when Dongju stepped out of the library, but not more so than it usually was at that time of year. Dongju wrapped his padded coat tighter as a gale blew past him and started off trudging through campus toward the coffee shop. He was quietly grateful that his and Dongmyeong’s apartment was only a block further. He had just started to smell the alluring scent of fried chicken when he flinched as a cold drop of rain landed on his face. 

He blinked, eyes darting up to the clouds. They were still the light gray typical of the winter season, but as he watched more and more of the raindrops began to fall. Faster and faster they came, Dongju picking up his pace to dash under the awning outside the cafe. He grumbled to himself as he pushed his hair back, the water making it stick to his face in clumps. There hadn’t been rain in the forecast that day, he thought, before pausing. He had a moment of distant horror before an arm was wrapping around his shoulders.

“Heyyyyy!” Dongju looked up to see Youngjo beaming down at him, his appearance hardly changed from what Dongju had seen before. He was even wearing the same clothes, Dongju thought.

“Agh,” Dongju managed, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t be like that,” Youngjo said, “You’ve already been so rude to me. First you never responded to my text and then I realized you never gave me your name,” he sighed dramatically, “It’s like you don’t even want to be friends!”

“Uh…” Dongju said. “Sorry?”

“You should be!” Youngjo said.

“Can you let go of me?” Dongju asked, struggling to get out from under the other’s arm. Unfortunately, the calamity didn’t budge. Dongju had a sudden intense desire to bite the other’s arm to get him off, but ultimately decided against it. Doing so might give him literal frostbite or something.

“Not until you tell me your name!” Youngjo said.

“Seriously?”

“Weird name for a human, but who am I to judge!” Youngjo said, “Nice to meet you, Seriously!”

“What? No!” Dongju sputtered, “My name is Dongju!”

“Ohhhh, that makes so much more sense,” Youngjo said before, thankfully, releasing Dongju’s shoulders. “Nice to meet you, Dongju!”

“Nice to meet you,” Dongju replied automatically, the manners his mother had drilled into him reflexively causing him to shake Youngjo’s proffered hand. It was just as cold as he remembered, like shaking hands with a block of ice. Dongju quickly retracted his hand and shoved it back in his pocket in an effort to warm it up.

“Anyway, we can get to know each other a little better now, right?” Youngjo asked. “It’s a Friday! Time to kick back!”

“I’m sorry, is he being a dick?” Dongju spun as another voice made itself known. He immediately blanched when he laid eyes on the speaker, the same man he saw a decade and a half ago outside a convenience store.

Keonhee, it had to be, was standing behind Dongju looking the exact same way he had all those years ago. He was wearing a black cardigan over a cream colored shirt and dark wash jeans cuffed at the ends to reveal black hi-tops. His hair was a chestnut brown, though the tips were drenched in water coloring them darker, which made sense given the fact that tears were still streaming down the other’s face and splashing onto the frozen sidewalk (and unfortunately also into the bucket of chicken the other was carrying).

“Oh gross!” Youngjo exclaimed, face scrunching at the sight of all the tears leaking onto the food. Dongju’s jaw hung slightly open watching the stream of tears from the other’s watery gray eyes. It wasn’t as torrential of a downpour as Dongju recalled from all those years ago, but it was still a steady deluge that barely paused even when the man blinked.

“What?” Keonhee asked.

“It’s getting in the food!” Youngjo said.

“Huh?” Keonhee looked down to see the now drenched chicken sitting in a half full bucket of water. “Oh, shit!” He held the bucket away from his chest, but the damage had already been done. He grimaced and tilted the bucket slightly to drain the water out from it.

“Go buy another one,” Youngjo said, “No one wants your gross ass soggy chicken!” Dongju silently agreed as he watched water pour out of the bucket along with a few scraps of chicken skin.

Keonhee pouted. “Sorry,” he said to Dongju, “I wanted to get you something as a thank you for the tissues but, uh…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dongju said, appetite waning in the face of the mess.

“Nonsense, take this guy for all the money he has!” Youngjo said, slapping Dongju on the back. Dongju swore he could feel the cold burning through his jacket.

“You be quiet,” Keonhee said, pointing a finger at Youngjo before turning to dump the waterlogged bucket of chicken into a trash can on the sidewalk. “And you,” he turned to Dongju, who stiffened slightly, “I’ll get another bucket of chicken for you. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful this time!” Keonhee hurried into the chicken shop, sound of splattering water growing more distant as he retreated.

Youngjo gave Dongju a lopsided smile. “So that was Keonhee.”

“He doesn’t look different at all,” Dongju said, still in shock at how the other didn’t look like he’d aged at all in fifteen years.

“Yeah,” Youngjo said, “We stop aging once we become like this. Like I said before, I’ve been wandering around for decades and I don’t look a day over twenty six!”

Dongju paused. “Oh.”

“This is where you’re supposed to agree with me!” Youngjo pouted.

“Uh, right,” Dongju said, a smirk tugging at his lips, “You look very young.”

“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” Youngjo groused, tugging at a brown and silver strand, “Seriously, I’m only twenty six!”

A thought popped into Dongju’s head. “So if you were frozen at twenty six-“

“Literally,” Youngjo said, giving the other finger guns. Dongju took a deep internal breath to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

“Yeah,” he opted to say, a flicker of amusement passing through him as he watched the other’s disappointment at the lack of acknowledgment. “Are you stuck like that forever?”

Youngjo’s expression suddenly became serious. “Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Youngjo said, “There is a way to become human again, but it requires a connection with someone else. If someone like me or Keonhee were to form a bond with someone else then we could reject the isolation that forced us to become like this in the first place. As you can imagine, that’s pretty hard given that most people can see us.”

“Ah,” Dongju said with a grimace. “Yeah, I can imagine that would complicate things.”

“It’s possible, though,” Youngjo said, “I’ve seen it.”

Dongju perked up, interested. “Really?”

“Yes,” Youngjo nodded, a glint of something Dongju couldn’t quite interpret making his eyes shine, “I once knew a woman who was able to create fog by sighing. Apparently she met someone like you, who could see us, and they became best friends. She stopped sighing as often and one day when she sighed, nothing happened at all. She was a normal person again, well as normal as you can be after being like this.” Dongju felt his heart squeeze slightly at the hint of longing in the other’s tone.

“Do you want to return to being human then?” Dongju asked.

“Someday hopefully,” Youngjo said, “It’s… hard being like this. And the longer you’re like this, the harder it’d be to turn back I think.”

“Uh,” Dongju began, flinching slightly as the other turned his gaze back on him, “I guess we could try to be friends then. I mean, if you want to try and become human again.”

Youngjo raised an eyebrow. “It’s not as easy as just saying you want to be friends,” he said, “You actually have to have a bond. A real bond.”

“I mean, I guessed as much,” Dongju said, cocking an eyebrow, “But that’s never gonna happen if you don’t start somewhere.”

Youngjo regarded Dongju for a long second, icy eyes piercing through the younger like a freezing gale. Dongju very resolutely did not squirm under the other’s gaze. After a few long seconds of Youngjo’s unnerving examination, the other gave Dongju a hint of a real smile rather than the showy smirks he usually threw around.

“You’re not wrong,” he said. “What the hell, let’s try it.”

Dongju opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted when Keonhee chose that exact moment to burst out of the chicken shop, a bucket of chicken held aloft over his head. “One tear free bucket of chicken!” He announced, before spinning to face Dongju and offering the bucket with a wide smile that wasn’t dampened in the slightest by the constant stream of tears running down his cheeks.

“Uh, thanks,” Dongju managed, reaching up and taking the bucket gingerly from the rain calamity. His stomach growled as the scent of fried chicken hit him and his hunger came roaring back at full force.

“Hungry?” Youngjo asked, his normal smirk sliding back into place.

“Starving,” Dongju replied. “I’m gonna go grab a hot chocolate and head home.” He paused mid-sentence, looking between Youngjo and Keonhee. “Would, uh, would you two like to come?” No time like the present to start becoming friends, he guessed. Both calamities looked blindsided by the question though.

“You… want to hang out with us?” Keonhee asked.

“Yeah,” Dongju replied, shifting his weight awkwardly. “I mean, you don’t have to. I was just going to watch some shitty reality show, but I mean I have a few streaming services if you want to watch a movie and eat together.”

“We don’t need to eat,” Youngjo said, almost reflexively.

“But do you like to?” Dongju asked.

Keonhee and Youngjo looked at each other before Keonhee beamed. “Yeah!”

“I don’t mind it,” Youngjo said, “I just don’t have a great sense of taste anymore.” He stuck out his tongue, which was colored so blue it was almost purple.

“Woah,” Dongju said, voice tinted with fascination as he unconsciously leaned forward to get a closer look.

“Gross,” Keonhee said, smacking Youngjo in the back of the head. The other winced and retracted his tongue, rubbing the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“You deserved it,” Keonhee sniffed, “No one wants to see your hypothermic tongue. Right, uh,” Keonhee hesitated.

“Dongju,” Dongju supplied.

“Right, Dongju?” He finished.

“I dunno, it was kinda cool in a morbid way,” Dongju said. Youngjo fist pumped. “I’m sure you’d be popular with people who listen to too many true crime podcasts.” Youngjo blinked while Keonhee guffawed.

“Oh, I like him,” Keonhee said. “Can we keep him?”

Youngjo sighed. “I hope so.”

An hour and a half after their initial meeting, Dongju, Keonhee and Youngjo were all piled into the apartment’s bathroom huddled around Dongju’s laptop with a bucket of fried chicken, a bag of chips and a bowl of popcorn split between them. Dongju had originally planned to have them all set up on the couch in the shared living area in the front of the apartment, but one glance at Keonhee’s tears soaking the welcome mat through had him rethinking that.

Which led to where they all were now, Keonhee sitting on a pillow in the bathtub with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Youngjo frosting over a few couch cushions that Dongju had moved into the room and Dongju trying to ignore the toilet paper holder that kept banging his arm into every time he reached for the chip bag. He adjusted his legs awkwardly on the pillow he was sitting on.

Dongju was grateful that his brother was out at band practice that night or else he would have had a hell of a time explaining why he was shutting himself in the bathroom for the evening and why all their pillows and couch cushions were covered in freezing cold water. Already he knew he’d have to mop up the entryway because of Keonhee’s tears. Though the rain calamity had apologized sheepishly for the mess, he couldn’t make the tears stop as they continued to flow even when Keonhee closed his eyes.

Despite the frantic hassle Dongju went through to organize the bathroom into something vaguely comfortable along with gathering snacks, he was fairly content with the current situation. The three of them had decided to watch a streaming series first, some show about a boy with deer antlers, but soon enough none of them were really paying attention to what was on screen.

Dongju had thought originally that he would try hard to be a good host, but soon enough he was arguing with Keonhee and Youngjo much in the same way he did with his brother. After one particularly annoying remark from Youngjo about the crowding of hair products that lay scattered on the bathroom sink (many of which were leftover from the time Dongju had decided to grow his hair out and go blonde), Dongju had instinctively bit the other in retaliation.

His first thought was cold, the ache in his teeth similar to the feeling he got when he ate ice cream or drank a convenience store slushie too fast, before the feeling raced upward toward his brain. “Agh!” He rocked back on his butt clutching at his forehead. “Brain freeze!” Youngjo started cackling like a hyena and Keonhee nearly flooded the tub as the tears started running faster and thicker between his gasping laughs.

“Serves you right, you damn piranha!” Youngjo wheezed, “Who just bites people?!”

“Mrghhhh…” Dongju groaned, waiting for the throbbing in his head to subside. When it finally did he glared at Youngjo. “Rude.”

“I’m rude?” Youngjo gaped. “You’re the one who attacked me!”

“But also,” Dongju turned to Keonhee, “Would the same thing happen if…?” He trailed off.

Keonhee backed up as far as the tub would allow, wet clothes squelching against the side of the tub. “Oh no, you stay away from me!”

Dongju’s hand shot out to grab Keonhee’s, his face involuntarily scrunching when he felt how clammy and damp the other’s were. “Mmph!” He bit down on the fleshy part of Keonhee’s hand as the other screeched and flailed. Dongju had a second to hope that Keonhee and Youngjo were inaudible as well as being invisible or else his neighbors might be calling to report a murder in his apartment.

Keonhee didn’t taste like much of anything, and contact with the other’s skin definitely didn’t cause a reaction like Youngjo’s had. If anything, Dongju would probably say that Keonhee tasted like how the air did after a night of heavy rain. Dongju was almost disappointed.

“Nothing,” he said, releasing Keonhee with a new set of teeth marks. Youngjo’s laughter got even louder.

“What is wrong with you?” Keonhee wailed, cradling his hand to his chest. He looked like he didn’t know whether to be offended or not by Dongju’s lack of reaction.

Dongju shrugged. “Jury’s out.” They continued to bicker, not realizing that during this whole process they had missed the noise of the apartment door opening and closing until the door knob to the bathroom rattled.

“Dongju?” Dongmyeong’s muffled voice echoed through the wood, causing the bathroom’s three occupants to freeze. “Dongju, do you have company over? I heard screaming all the way down in the lobby.”

“Oh shit,” Dongju breathed. He traded panicked looks with Youngjo and Keonhee. “Uh, no?”

“Are you sure?” Dongmyeong asked, sounding unimpressed.

“Yes?” He could practically hear Dongmyeong rolling his eyes on the other side of the door. “I was just watching television!”

“In the bathroom?” Dongmyeong said, “Just hurry up, okay? I have to pee.”

Dongju panicked. “Uh, okay! Don’t worry, I’ll be right out!” There was a noise of retreating footsteps as Dongmyeong walked away from the bathroom and toward the bedrooms. He turned to the two calamities. “You have to get out of here!”

“Why?” Youngjo asked, “It’s not like he’ll see us.”

“But he might wonder why I brought all this stuff into the bathroom!” Dongju said, gesturing to all the pillows, blankets and snacks. “Look, I can get this stuff to the bathroom and you guys just head straight out the front door. If he asks… I’ll just say I was making it for later.”

“Even the half eaten chips and popcorn?” Youngjo asked.

“You got a better idea?” Dongju asked. Youngjo shrugged which made Dongju want to upend the bowl of popcorn on the other’s head in frustration. The only thing that stopped him from doing so was the thought of having to clean up the mess later in addition to all the water that came from being sloshed out of the tub or from the melting snow piles. He let out a long breath. “Just. Let’s go.”

Dongju picked up the popcorn and bucket of stripped chicken bones while cramming the half full chip bag under his arm before reaching out to open the bathroom door. He peered both ways down the hallway to see the door to Dongmyeong’s room was firmly closed. He exhaled in relief. “Coast is clear.”

He made a bee line for the kitchen, quickly dumping the chicken bones in the trash (he’d have to remember to take that out soon) and setting the half full chips and popcorn bowls on the counter. He could hear hurried footsteps down the hall, presumably Youngjo and Keonhee’s, followed by the voice he dreaded.

“Are you Dongju’s friends?” Dongmyeong asked. Dongju spun around to see that his brother had stepped into the hallway and was glancing over Keonhee and Youngjo, at first with mild disinterest which quickly turned to shock as he took in Keonhee’s streaming eyes and Youngjo’s slowly melting footprints. “Uh…”

“Oh, he can see us,” Youngjo said, looking interested by the revelation. He turned to Keonhee. “Do you think it’s a family thing?” Keonhee shrugged in response.

“Hey, Dongmyeong,” Dongju cut in, stepping into the hallway and trying futilely to block his brother’s view of the two calamities. “They were actually just leaving. Keonhee, uh, just went through a breakup and we were helping him. That’s why he’s crying!”

“Hey!” Keonhee protested.

Dongmyeong peered around Dongju’s shoulder to look at Keonhee, eyebrows rising as he took in the nonstop tears. Youngjo waved at him, scattering snowflakes onto the floor. Dongmyeong turned back to Dongju with an expression that Dongju read as ‘how fucking dumb do you think I am?’ Dongju winced.

“Look, I’ll explain later,” Dongju said.

“Later?” Dongmyeong asked.

“As soon as they leave,” Dongju promised.

“Why do we have to leave if you both already know?” Youngjo whined.

“Because you’re ruining our floors!” Dongmyeong came to his brother’s rescue by gesturing to the slowly growing puddle around Keonhee’s feet and Youngjo’s own steadily increasing snowdrift.

“I’ll text you guys later,” Dongju said with a grimace.

“Fine,” Youngjo said with a dramatic, put upon sigh, “But you better actually do it this time! If you ghost me again, I’ll bury your apartment in snow up to your balcony!” Dongju felt a shiver pass through him as the temperature dropped slightly, but the two calamities left without any further protests.

Dongju sighed as soon as the door closed behind the two of them before turning back to his brother. Dongmyeong stared expectantly at him with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well?”

“Okay,” Dongju said, running his fingers through his hair, “You remember that time I told you about that weird guy outside the convenience store when we were six?”

Dongmyeong took the news about Dongju’s new friends(?) surprisingly well. The older twin was quick to accept the existence of these so called ‘calamities’ and even helped Dongju speculate as to why Youngjo and Keonhee were stuck in their current immortal but isolated states. He had told Dongju that the other should keep hanging out with the calamities as long as he wanted to, but they should be more careful if they came over again as he and Dongmyeong spent two hours mopping up the bathroom and entryway that evening. It was clear that his brother was still slightly wary of the calamities, but Dongju could hardly blame him considering the circumstances.

Mind made to continue his friendship though, Dongju had started a group chat with Youngjo and Keonhee the following evening. Dongju learned that Youngjo kept all his grammar and spelling correct when messaging, while Keonhee had a particular affinity for stickers and emojis. Dongju had pretended to be annoyed in front of his brother with how often the two of them messaged the chat, but he secretly enjoyed unlocking his phone after class to see the nonsensical conversations the two of them had along with minor arguments that they both clamored for Dongju’s deciding opinion on.

Time seemed to fly by as Dongju talked with them. He wasn’t able to meet with them again the following week with midterms coming up, though. In fact, Dongju had replied to the chat less and less as the exams grew closer, instead holing up in the library with his textbooks and laptop and trying to crank through study guides and term papers. When he had explained his situation to the others, they had replied with words of encouragement and a frankly overwhelming amount of emojis.

Dongju had never felt happier.

His exams came and went uneventfully. Dongju did as well as he could, and he think he did well enough to keep a good GPA for the semester. He knew he had run out of time in one of his exams, but he was pretty sure all the questions he had managed to answer were correct at least. His brother seemed to be similarly drained by the end of exams, muttering that he couldn’t wait until they could both go home for the holidays. It wasn’t until that moment that Dongju remembered that he and Dongmyeong would be traveling back home for the holidays, a train ticket set for a week away taped to the whiteboard in his room.

“Oh shit,” Dongju had blurted from the reminder.

Dongmyeong narrowed his eyes. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“No,” Dongju lied unconvincingly.

Dongmyeong rolled his eyes. “Well, you better start packing then. Did you at least do your Christmas shopping?”

“Most of it,” Dongju said. He recalled the day he met Youngjo being the same one he had gone out to pick up his father’s presents.

“Just go finish it then.” Dongmyeong flopped down on their couch, finally dry after many hours standing over it with a hair dryer, and picked up the TV remote. “It’s not like we have anything between now and when we have to leave.”

Dongju nodded, already pulling out his phone and retreating to his room to start browsing the websites from various local stores. He still needed to get their mother something. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to push the search option, when he hesitated. Impulsively, he switched over to his messaging app.

What should I get my mom for Christmas?

He sent the message before he could second guess himself. Youngjo and Keonhee were pretty fast about replying usually, most likely because there wasn’t much for either of them to do during the day, and he was’t let down as his phone buzzed seconds later.

Snowman

Warm clothes!

Or a gift card for the spa

Crybaby

My mom used to like getting little figurines and ornaments

Does your mom collect anything?

Me

Nah

But the spa card is a good idea

Snowman

Hah I win

Crybaby

It’s not a competition??????

Snowman

It is and I’m winning

I’m going to get a good grade in being a friend, something that it is both normal to want and possible to achieve

Crybaby

What????

Dongju I’m your best friend, right?

Me

No comment

Crybaby

:(((((((((((

Just for that I’m flooding your river

Me

I don’t live by the river so knock yourself out

Snowman

Now there’s an idea

Crybaby

Why are you both so mean to me?

Me

Wouldn’t you like to know weather boy

Dongju closed the chat with a smile on his face and switched over to start looking up massage parlors near his parent’s house.

Two days later Dongju was back in the shopping center picking up the last of his presents for Dongmyeong (a video game the other had been very loudly and pointedly talking about along a new pedal for Dongmyeong’s keyboard since he’d heard his brother complaining about his current one sticking while on the phone with his bandmates) while mentally calculating how many suitcases he would have to pack to get all the presents home. It was still early in the afternoon with a couple hours left until sundown, and Dongju found himself feeling, against all odds, a bit lonely. He pulled out his phone and tapped open the group chat to scroll through the string of messages from the previous evening.

Youngjo and Keonhee had been arguing who was the worst house guest. Youngjo repeatedly pointed out that Keonhee kept ruining hardwood floors while Keonhee said that Youngjo’s creation of slippery ice patches wherever he went was a health and safety hazard. When they had asked Dongju for his opinion, Dongju had replied that they were both terrible house guests because he had to entertain them in his bathroom. He smiled slightly as he re-read both of their outraged replies at that.

Dongju tapped on the message bar, hesitating only momentarily before sending off a text.

Me

Are either of you busy? I’m at the shopping center right now.

Snowman

Oh thank god, I was so bored. I’ll be there in ten

Crybaby

I’ll be there in five because I’m a better friend!

Dongju laughed as he leaned back in his chair and shoved his phone back in his pocket. Before meeting Youngjo and Keonhee he had never minded the fact that his phone was silent more often than not, but nowadays he found himself looking forward to their evening conversations. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get out of class and see a wall of text messages blowing up his phone. Some part of Dongju, despite his occasionally prickly exterior, enjoyed having friends like Youngjo and Keonhee even though he hadn’t known them for long.

Keonhee was true to his word and arrived five minutes after his text. Dongju could hear him long before he saw him, the sound of trickling water causing him to look over his shoulder. The rain calamity was running toward his table, slightly out of breath and splashing water everywhere in his haste.

“First!” Keonhee declared dropping into the seat across the table from Dongju. “Hah!” He pulled out his phone and quickly typed something into it. Dongju’s phone buzzed a second later. Dongju pulled his phone out and checked the group chat.

Crybaby

Beat you here, popsicle man

Snowman

I am going to freeze your eyes shut

Keonhee stuck his tongue out at his phone even though Youngjo couldn’t see it before dropping his phone on the table and smiling at Dongju. “Hey! Have you been here long?”

“I was shopping for my brother,” Dongju said, gesturing to the bags sitting at his feet. “I was bored and didn’t want to go home yet, though.”

“Understandable,” Keonhee said, “It’s a nice day.” It was by winter standards. Though the air was chilly, the sun was still shining enough to keep the worst of the chill out. In a few hours when the sun went down Dongju was sure the temperature would be a lot less pleasant, but for now Dongju was fairly content to sit outside.

They exchanged a bit small talk, Keonhee relaying that he’d been wandering around town lately and viewing all the window displays. He seemed particularly enthusiastic about one for a large clothing store about a block away that had moving stuffed animal animatronics in its window.

“They’re cute but also horrible,” Keonhee said, “Like I wouldn’t want to meet any of them in a dark alley.” He pulled out his phone and swiped to his photo reel. He spun the device to show Dongju a video he’d taken of the display. Dongju squinted down at the screen at the animatronics, one being a large stuffed bear with soulless black eyes and the other being an oversized bunny wearing a Santa hat and holding an unnervingly sharp peppermint stick. Both of them rigidly moved their arms up and down, the bunny stuttering slightly on every downswing of the peppermint stick. The bear’s head swung to look directly into the camera for an unnaturally long time before spinning away again.

Dongju was silent for a long minute, brow furrowing steadily the longer the video went on. When he looked up once more he saw Keonhee was grinning widely watching his reaction. Dongju opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “That’s terrifying.”

Keonhee guffawed. “Right? I love them.” He swiped to the next photo to show him taking a selfie with the bunny, positioned so it looked like the bunny was about to stab him with the peppermint stick. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they hopped out of the window and killed someone before Christmas is over.”

“Who’s gonna kill someone?” Dongju looked up to see Youngjo approaching the table, snow blowing off his shoulders in his wake like he was auditioning for the next Disney franchise.

“Look at these animatronics!” Keonhee said, eagerly shoving his phone in Youngjo’s face as the other took a seat at the table.

“What?” Youngjo took the phone, eyes widening as he watched presumably the same video that Keonhee had shown Dongju. “Fuck, that’s scary.”

Keonhee cackled again. “I hope they keep it up year round.”

“Doubt it,” Dongju said.

“It’d be funny though,” Youngjo said. He turned then to Dongju. “So, you got bored shopping?”

“Yeah,” Dongju said, “I finished doing my Christmas shopping and thought I’d just ask if the two of you had some free time.”

“Good news,” Youngjo said with a flourish of his fingers that sent a light dusting of snow drifting down on the table top, “We have nothing but free time.”

“He’s right,” Keonhee sighed, “We mostly just wander around all day.”

“Not together?” Dongju asked. The two calamities looked at each other.

“I guess we could,” Keonhee said, “But we get pretty competitive.”

“We’d probably end up causing a rain storm or a blizzard,” Youngjo agreed. “It’s good to have you as a mediator.”

Dongju snorted. “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not just that!” Keonhee rushed to say, “We also like you as, you know, a person!”

“Nice save,” Youngjo snorted.

“I’m just messing with you,” Dongju said, laughing at Keonhee’s distressed look. “I do have to ask though, are you two friends with any other calamities?”

“Sort of?” Youngjo said, “None of us are really ‘friends’ with each other.”

“Ouch,” Keonhee said.

“I mean, you know what we were like before,” Youngjo said, flicking snow in Keonhee’s direction. “Like we know of each other but we don’t talk much.”

“Well, maybe you should change that then,” Dongju suggested. “Couldn’t that be another ‘bond’ like what you were talking about?”

Youngjo shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re all kind of flying blind here. I’ve only seen a calamity return to being human once in like fifty years.”

“Couldn’t hurt though,” Keonhee said.

“Fair enough,” Youngjo pulled out his phone and tapped through his contacts. “Uh, I have two others I know.”

“I just have one,” Keonhee said, making a face as he scrolled through his own phone.

Dongju raised an eyebrow. “Do you really only have two other contacts in your phone?”

“We’re not that common!” Youngjo said, throwing up his hand. Dongju guessed that tracked considering he’d only seen four or so calamities between the ages of six and twenty one. He was starting to understand just how isolating Keonhee and Youngjo’s existence were since Dongju considered himself pretty antisocial and he still had a couple dozen contacts in his phone aside from his family.

“I’ll just send them a message,” Youngjo said, “I think Hwanwoong might be visiting America, but he can travel pretty fast. Geonhak should be closer, he likes visiting Korea around the holidays.”

“Seoho should also be in the country,” Keonhee said. “I’ve heard reports about unseasonable heat waves happening further north.”

Dongju winced, realizing just what kind of people he’d invited into his life, or at least close proximity. “Uh, they’re not going to destroy the city, right?”

“Probably not!” Keonhee said cheerfully, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Seoho just likes playing pranks.”

“And Geonhak and Hwanwoong are pretty chill,” Youngjo said. He then frowned. “Okay, they’re chill as long as they aren’t getting competitive.”

“And what exactly are all of them capable of?” Dongju asked, dread growing in his stomach.

“Isn’t it more fun if it’s a surprise?” Youngjo said.

Dongju buried his face in his hands and groaned. Youngjo responded by reaching across the table and shoving an ice cold hand down the collar of Dongju’s shirt.

Dongju probably should have expected what was happening when he stepped outside a day after and the force of the wind outside nearly sent him staggering back into the building. Unfortunately, it was early in the morning on a weekend and Dongju’s brain wasn’t processing at the speed it normally did. So instead of connecting the dots, he just wrapped his coat futilely against himself as he started down the street toward the convenience store two blocks away. He and Dongmyeong had run out of milk that morning and Dongju had lost the rock-paper-scissors battle to be the one to go get more.

He didn’t even realize what was happening when he watched a heavy trash container at the end of someone’s driveway blow over and onto the sidewalk he was walking on, instead just nudging the trash can out of the way with his shoe and continuing onward. A trip that should have taken maybe six minutes of walking tops took around ten as he fought against the wind pushing against him. He mentally cursed Dongju and the other’s decision to choose paper over rock that morning.

He finally stumbled into the convenience store, wincing as the door clanged noisily behind him as the wind slammed it shut. The store was deafeningly quiet compared to the howl of the wind outside. Dongju jostled his coat discreetly to hear the metal zippers jingle just to make sure his ears were still working properly. They were, fortunately, so Dongju wasted no more time in hustling past the half asleep cashier to the freezers in the back to grab a gallon of milk.

When he headed back to the front the transaction passed uneventfully. The cashier barely blinked as he handed Dongju his change. It was only when the cashier absentmindedly said, “Be careful, it’s a bit of a howler out there.” That the rusty cogs in Dongju’s mind started turning. He didn’t dwell on any of his suspicions for too long though, resolving to message Youngjo and Keonhee when he got back to the apartment. This was a problem for the Dongju that existed ten minutes from now, he thought.

Dongju stepped back out on the street and found that the wind hadn’t lessened at all. If anything, the gales had only picked up in speed and ferocity. He ducked his head and began hurrying down the sidewalk. It may have been a mistake, though, to have squinted his eyes against the wind as he found himself stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. He nearly fell and dropped the milk in the process, but managed to keep his balance by staggering sideways and leaning against he brick wall of a nearby building.

He quickly righted himself and continued down his route only to see more and more cracks lacing the sidewalk in front of him. Luckily after his first misstep he was much more careful about looking at the ground, but the uneven pavement struck him as slightly odd. Had there been this many cracks in the sidewalk when he had walked down to the convenience store? Dongju didn’t have the education necessary to tell how long ago a piece of concrete was demolished, but given the sharp edges on the sides of each fissure the damage looked fairly recent. It looked like the Dongju of ten minutes from now was going to be in for a surprise, he thought grimly.

He finally made it back to his apartment, an ordeal that should not have taken as long as it did, and felt exhaustion settle into his bones as he noticed a tell tale trail of water leading up the stairs to his front door. To his friend’s credit it looked like the other had tried to keep the water trail as far to the side of the stair case as possible, but Dongju would probably have to come back out later with a mop and towel to clean up the mess.

Dongju trudged up the stairs, frowning as he started getting hotter the closer he got to his apartment. It had been so cold outside with the combination of freezing air and heavy wind, but in his apartment’s tiny hallway it felt like it was the height of summer. He wondered if one of his neighbors had decided to crank their heating up to combat the outside chill. He hoped it wasn’t Dongmyeong, or else their utilities bill would be through the roof.

By the time Dongju reached his front door, he was sweating under his heavy coat. He grimaced at the feeling of sweat sliding down his back, but couldn’t stop the droplets with one of his hands preoccupied with holding the gallon of milk and the other digging around in his pocket for his key. Dongju could practically feel heat emanating from under his front door. He wondered if the door handle was going to burn him. Fortunately that didn’t seem to be the case as the door swung open without any issue, but inside the apartment Dongju saw a mess of shoes strewn across the entryway and a combination of familiar and unfamiliar faces sprawled out over his furniture.

Keonhee was taking up one of the large armchairs in the living room near an open window, a plastic bucket cradled in his lap that was steadily filling up with the tears leaking from his eyes. Dongju watched as the bucket reached the top, Keonhee tossing the contents out the window to splatter into the back alley two floors below their apartment before returning the bucket to its previous position.

Opposite the rain calamity was a man Dongju had never seen before. The other was sitting sideways in the other armchair in the apartment, very carefully not letting his feet touch the ground. Dongju could see the amount of effort the other was exerting not to do that exact thing as the man reached for a glass of water on the side table between the two armchairs and nearly fell off the chair in the process.

There was another unknown man sitting on a pillow near the coffee table, staring at the half melted three wick candle Dongju had gotten from his co-worker at the campus bookstore as a Christmas present. As Dongju watched, the man picked up the candle and blew on it, despite the wicks being unlit. Then, almost nonsensically, three flames burst into existence on the candle. The man set the candle back on the coffee table with a satisfied expression.

Meanwhile, on the couch, Dongju saw Youngjo sitting on one end dusting snowflakes off his hands to entertain himself. He watched as Youngjo blew a stream of cold air toward the man who sat on the opposite end of the couch. The other squawked in protest and then sneezed, unexpectedly sending a burst of wind throughout the whole apartment. The wind blew out the freshly lit candle, which set off a chorus of whines from the man by the coffee table. All of these observations happened over the course of about a minute, the entirety of which Dongju spent standing in his own entryway with a jug of milk in hand wondering which part of this situation he should address first.

It was then that he noticed that sandwiched between Youngjo and the wind(?) calamity on the couch, sat Dongmyeong. The other was clutching a mug of hot chocolate with wide eyes, all his limbs drawn as tightly to his body as possible. Dongmyeong looked between Youngjo and the other man with alarm, and that was when his eyes landed on Dongju, who had somehow managed to come in without alerting any of the room’s occupants to his presence.

“Oh, Dongju!” Dongmyeong blurted, immediately getting the attention of everyone in the room. The other’s tone was cheery, but his twin’s eyes screamed ‘help me’. “Thank god you’re home! You got the milk, right?” The other quickly set his hot chocolate down on a low table and practically vaulted off the couch. He rushed over to Dongju, prying the milk from Dongju’s fingers. “I’m just gonna go… put this in the fridge!” He immediately scurried off toward their kitchen, leaving Dongju still standing in the entryway, now with five calamities staring at him.

“Hey Dongju!” Keonhee said, waving cheerily as he dumped another bucket of water out the window.

“How did you all get in my house?” Dongju replied before his brain caught up with his mouth.

“Your brother let us in,” Youngjo said, seemingly unbothered by the other’s lack of greeting.

“Ah,” Dongju said, finally toeing off his boots and stepping into the living room. Unfortunately, there weren’t many places to sit so Dongju was forced to take up the spot his brother had previously been sitting in between Youngjo and the wind calamity. He couldn’t see Dongmyeong from where he was, so he guessed the other had retreated to his room after putting away the milk. ‘Traitor’, Dongju thought.

“So, I guess introductions are in order!” Keonhee said. “These are our friends!”

“Loosely,” Youngjo added.

“They’re calamities like us,” Keonhee continued, ignoring Youngjo.

“Calamities?” The wind calamity next to Dongju asked.

Dongju turned his head to look at the other. This man had probably been the one causing the wind storm outside, Dongju thought. He would have never expected someone so much smaller than himself could cause such big gales, but he guessed that Keonhee despite his own unassuming appearance had caused one of the biggest rain storms the city had ever seen. The wind calamity’s hair was similar to Youngjo’s but instead of being laced with silver, it was silver entirely and (appropriately) windswept. The man’s pale gray eyes when Dongju finally met them, blurred in front of him. Dongju had to blink his dry eyes a few times, feeling he’d just walked back out into the windstorm and tried to open his eyes under the force of the gales.

“Yeah, that’s what he calls us,” Youngjo said, patting Dongju on the shoulder with a grin. Dongju frowned, but decided against biting the other’s hand again to avoid the brain freeze.

“That’s pretty cool,” the man in the arm chair said. Dongju was slightly taken aback by how deep the other’s voice was. The man had short, spiky black hair and Dongju noticed that the other was barefoot despite all the others being in socks.

“And appropriate,” the fire calamity near the coffee table said. The other picked up the candle once more and blew over it to relight all the wicks. Dongju thought that this was probably the source of the overwhelming heat in the apartment. Despite the fact that Dongju was sitting next to Youngjo, he could barely feel the chill that the snow calamity brought with him over the heat emanating from the man on the other side of the living room.

“So,” Keonhee said, pointing to the man in the armchair across from him, “That’s Geonhak.”

Said man waved. “Hi.”

“That’s Seoho,” Youngjo pointed to the man near the coffee table.

“Hey!” Seoho said. He brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, sending up a spray of sparks in the process.

“And that’s Hwanwoong,” Youngjo gestured to the man on the other side of Dongju.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Hwanwoong said, “It’s rare that a regular person can see people like us.”

“Pretty much unheard of!” Seoho chimed in.

“Oh,” Dongju said. He then narrowed his eyes at Youngjo. “What kind of things did you hear then?”

“You know,” Seoho said, waving a hand, “You were nice enough to put up with them for longer than twenty minutes, which is a feat in itself-“

“Hey!” Keonhee interjected. He tossed the bucket of water at Seoho, but the water evaporated before it could hit the other. Some of it did hit the candle, though, extinguishing the tiny flames once again.

“Bro!” Seoho yelled, “I just want to smell some fucking vanilla cookies!”

“Then stop being a rude little shit!” Keonhee said.

“We also heard that you bit them,” Geonhak said, speaking over Seoho and Keonhee’s bickering.

“Wait, what?!” Hwanwoong said, “I didn’t hear that!”

“Uh,” Dongju said, wondering if it was too late to run to his room.

“So what happened when you tried that?”

“He got brain freeze,” Youngjo snorted. Seoho and Hwanwoong both cackled while Geonhak hunched over, shoulder shaking.

“What about Keonhee then?” Geonhak asked, eyes bright.

“He didn’t really taste like anything,” Dongju said, resigning himself to the fact that there wasn’t a way out. “Just like… drinking puddle water.” Seoho and Hwanwoong started up another round of laughter. Geonhak leaned over and punched Keonhee’s shoulder in a friendly manner, but Keonhee still winced at the impact.

“Puddle water,” Geonhak wheezed.

“Shut up!!” Keonhee snapped, upending his half full bucket over Geonhak’s head.

Geonhak sputtered, swiping water from his face. “Gross, man! Keep your eye juice away from me!”

“Don’t call it that!” Keonhee shrieked. Dongju wondered if they were going to get a noise complaint from their neighbors.

“Seoho, can’t you dry me off?” Geonhak said, gesturing to his now damp hair and clothes.

Seoho grinned and lifted a hand. “Hold still!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Youngjo warned. Alas, he was too late as Seoho squinted an eye closed and took aim.

“Holy shit!” Geonhak yelped as a stream of fire shot over his head, setting the back of the armchair on fire. The man leapt from the chair, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, the hardwood floor splintered. “Sorry!”

“I said hold still!” Seoho said, aiming again.

“Stop it you maniac!” Keonhee shouted, dumping his bucket over the slowly spreading fire. Unfortunately the bucket wasn’t full enough to put the whole fire out, and Keonhee yelped as the flames spread higher. Hwanwoong jumped up to Dongju’s right, sucked in a breath and sent a strong burst of wind toward the fire, but that only made the flames grow faster. The fire alarm started to blare, high pitched, obnoxious and accompanied by flashing lights.

“What the fuck is going on out there?!” Dongmyeong finally came out of his room to see the fire blazing on the armchair. His eyes widened and he raced into the kitchen for the fire extinguisher.

“You idiots!” Youngjo screamed over the alarm, before clapping his hands together. A climb of snow materialized over the fire and dropped heavily on top of the armchair. The good news was that this extinguished the fire, the bad news was that the chair was now completely ruined and now half the living room was covered in snow.

“I got it!” Dongju reemerged from the kitchen with the fire extinguisher and sprayed the armchair with a few rounds of foam for good measure.

During this whole ordeal, Dongju had sat on the couch in silent, open mouthed horror. His eyes were locked on the foamy, snow covered armchair that had once been his favorite. It had been the perfect combination of squashy enough to fall asleep in but firm enough that he didn’t wake up with a horrible crick in his neck.

The fire alarm continued to blare as Dongmyeong set aside the fire extinguisher and picked up a dish towel to begin fanning the smoke away from the device. Keonhee opened both windows in the apartment as wide as they would go. Dongju finally got up and staggered over to stare at the tattered remains of the chair. The velvet upholstery was singed black and bits of foam and the wooden frame stuck up from the ruined fabric.

“Uh, sorry,” Seoho said sheepishly. “We’ll pay for a new chair.”

“We don’t have any money,” Geonhak mumbled, only to wince as Youngjo smacked him on the arm. “I mean, yes we will!”

“My chair,” Dongju said hollowly.

“Hey, bro,” Dongmyeong came over having finally managed to shut off the fire alarm. “I hate to say this, but make less friends.”

Dongju groaned and buried his face in his hands.

The chair was removed from their apartment the following day, the landlord shooting both Dongju and Dongmyeong a dirty look. Dongju suspected they weren’t getting their deposit back. He was just glad that Youngjo, Keonhee and their friends had cleared out with another round of apologies and promises to pay for the damages. Geonhak had to be carried out by a combined effort of Keonhee and Youngjo due to his abilities, which apparently made all the ground under his feet start crumbling to pieces. Under normal circumstances, Dongju probably would have found it very funny to watch the two of them struggle to carry a much more muscular looking man out, but in that moment Dongju was still staring blankly at the charred remains of his armchair while Dongmyeong got on the phone with their insurance company.

Dongju had sulked for at least half a week, refusing to open any messages from any of the calamities (he should have known that Keonhee and Youngjo would give his phone number to all the others) despite their repeated texts. He had simply shut his ringer off and set his phone to do not disturb, only checking at the end of every evening to make sure neither his professors, his parents, nor his boss had attempted to contact him.

He grimaced, one day, when his finger accidentally tapped on the group chat instead of his brother’s message right below it.

Snowman

Dongjuuuuuuu
Pleaseeeeee

It was an accident

Armchair Destroyer

Yeah, I’m really sorry!!!!!! :(((((((

And don’t worry, I’ve almost gotten enough to pay you back!!

Dongju sighed. Had he let them suffer enough yet, or should he drag it out a few more days? He asked his brother that very question and Dongmyeong had rolled his eyes and replied with, “The whole house still smells like smoking La-Z Boy.” Dongju worried his lip before finally giving in and texting back.

Me

I’ll only accept cash.

Armchair Destroyer

!!!!!!!!

You got it! 100% cash!!!

Crybaby

Dongju!! You finally responded!!!

Me

You’re still on my shit list for all the water damage.

Airhead

Hah

Crybaby

I’m sorry!!!!

Snowman

Don’t worry, we have a plan to make it up to you

Me

Should I be concerned?

Grounded Forever

Don’t worry! I’ll make sure it all goes well!

Me

You owe me new floorboards.

Snowman

Okay, I know this all looks bad but

We’ll fix it all

Trust me

Dongju sighed. Even though he should probably be more concerned about whatever it was the calamities apparently had in store for him by way of “making it up to him”, he couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter after taking to his friends once more. He could hardly believe it himself, but he’d actually missed the others.

“Really?” Dongmyeong asked, eyebrow raised pointedly at the rug the two of them had haphazardly thrown over the splintered floorboards.

Dongju shrugged helplessly. “I can’t ignore my friends forever.”

“What are you, an anime protagonist?” Dongmyeong asked. He rolled his eyes when Dongju just gave him a grimace. “Fine, but if you meet up with them again, do it somewhere we don’t pay for.”

One day before Dongju and Dongmyeong’s train was set to leave for home, a blizzard blew through their hometown. The station back home was closed for at least two days while the tracks were cleared, and with the rush of people trying to reschedule their trains there was no way the twins would be home in time for Christmas. Their parents had been very understanding, saying they would all just celebrate Christmas and New Year’s together when the trains were running again, but Dongmyeong couldn’t help the ball of disappointment that sat in his gut when he hung up the phone.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” Dongmyeong said. Though his words were said jokingly, Dongju could see the underlying sadness in his twin’s expression.

“We can still try and do something here,” Dongju said.

“I know,” Dongmyeong sighed, “I just… I’m just gonna take a nap.” Dongju pressed his lips together as Dongmyeong slouched back to his room, the door closing quietly behind him. Dongju pulled out his phone.

Me

Was this you?

Snowman

?

Me

Look outside.

Snowman

Oh shit dude, no way

I’ve been keeping my snow under wraps, swear on my icicles

Dongju blinked as his phone started ringing seconds later, Youngjo’s name clearly displayed at the top of the screen.

“What icicles?” Dongju said instead of a greeting.

“The ones in my heart,” Youngjo said, “You can’t see it, but I’m putting my hand over my heart.”

Dongju rolled his eyes, though a smile was tugging at his lips. “Alright, I believe you. Sorry for accusing you.”

“It’s no problem dude,” Youngjo said, “I actually had to check myself to make sure I didn’t set off a snowstorm in my sleep. Good news! I didn’t.”

“Have you done that before?” Dongju asked, now curious.

“Once back when I first became a calamity,” Youngjo said. “I couldn’t control my abilities very well. I dragged a cold front across the northern part of the country for weeks. One time I fell asleep in a town and woke up buried under six feet of snow. I learned not to sleep uncovered after that.”

Dongju jolted. “Wait, do you still sleep outside?”

“It’s not so bad,” Youngjo said, though that really wasn’t what Dongju wanted to hear. “No one sees me, not even animals, so it’s not like I’m in danger. I also don’t feel the cold really so it’s no problem.”

“But even if you can’t feel the cold, isn’t it…” Dongju paused.

“Isn’t it what?”

“Isn’t it lonely?”

There was a long pause on the line, so long that Dongju thought for a second that the other had hung up until he pulled his phone away from his ear to make sure.

“Of course it is,” Youngjo said, all of the normal teasing leeched from his voice. It sounded as empty and abrupt as a cold snap. There was another long pause as Dongju wondered what he should say next.

“What are you doing for Christmas Eve?” Dongju asked.

Youngjo was polite enough to not mention the change in topic. “Probably what I do every year,” he said, “Go walk around town and look at lights. Maybe stare at a Christmas tree.”

Dongju bit his lip. “Why don’t you spend Christmas Eve at the apartment? All of you could come.”

“You really want us all there?” Youngjo asked, “After what happened last time?”

“I do,” Dongju said, and was surprised to feel that he really meant it. “We can… I don’t know, maybe Dongmyeong and I can fireproof the house or something.”

Youngjo laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll get Seoho under control next time before we set anything on fire.”

“Great,” Dongju said.

“Do you want me to tell the others?” Youngjo asked.

“No, I have a plan to do that,” Dongju lied. He had no plan, but now that he had decided to extend the invitation, a few half formed ideas swirled around in his head.

“If you’re sure,” Youngjo hummed. “And Dongju…”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For making an effort to talk to me that day.”

The phone line went dead, and Dongju tried not to smile at how Youngjo had probably hung up out of embarrassment of being so cheesy. Given the way that Dongmyeong said “What’s up with you?” When he entered the living room an hour an a half later, he was unsuccessful.

“Nothing,” Dongju said. He tilted his head a Dongmyeong in a way that had the other narrowing his eyes.

“What are you about to ask me for?” His twin asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Dongju said, the very picture of innocence.

“Bullshit.”

“I just…” Dongju grinned, “How do you feel about having company for Christmas?”

Dongju had only a little over a week before Christmas, and he was determined to invite all of his newfound friends (was it too early to be calling them that?) in the right way. He’d already asked Youngjo, but he wasn’t sure how the others, especially Geonhak, Seoho and Hwanwoong, would react to being invited to a Christmas party. Therefore he decided to start with the one he deemed the least trouble, Keonhee.

The rain calamity was more than happy to meet up, especially when he heard that Youngjo wouldn’t be there either. Dongju had no doubt that the other had already bragged about getting to hang out without Youngjo being present if the string of frowny face emojis Youngjo had sent him earlier that morning were any indication.

He and Youngjo ended up meeting at a heavily decorated festival event that lined an entire street downtown with stalls full of food, carnival games and a few photo areas. Keonhee’s eyes had shone bright under the lights that were strung up from the trees and draped across the street. At the end of the road were even a number of large mechanical rides like spinning teacups, octopus shaped coasters that launched riders’ cars into the air and even a ferris wheel.

“I’ve never been to one of these!” Keonhee said as he dragged Dongju around the festival. “We have to try everything!”

Dongju wondered if he was regretting his choice after Keonhee dragged him off to investigate nearly every food stall on the street. Dongju and Keonhee ended up eating fried pastries with powdered sugar, cotton candy, roasted almonds, oversized peppermint sticks and plenty of sugar cookies. Keonhee didn’t seem to mind any of the food that got waterlogged as he ate it, well except the cotton candy that dissolved under his touch. Dongju vetoed going on any of the rides afterwards, certain all the food he’d just consumed would make an encore performance if he did, but Keonhee wasn’t deterred and pulled the younger toward all the game booths instead.

Keonhee couldn’t play any of the games, but demanded Dongju try throwing baseballs at milk jugs or rings at milk jugs or bean bags at milk jugs and wow, okay there were actually a lot of games involving milk jugs, Dongju thought. Dongju didn’t do too terribly, winning a few cheap looking snap bracelets, a pair of plastic sunglasses and a fuzzy headband with felt reindeer antlers on it that his friend forced onto his head. Keonhee demanded they go to a photo area decorated with cardboard cutouts of oversized penguins with scarves.

Dongju handed his phone to the attendant and ignored the giggles from those in line behind him that followed him as he stepped into the square taped out in the middle of the scene. He pushed past his embarrassment and smiled at the camera as Keonhee leaned on his shoulder and flashed the lens a peace sign. He hurried to collect his phone afterwards and get away from the photo area as Keonhee laughed behind him.

“They all thought you were so cute, Dongju,” Keonhee giggled, ruffling Dongju’s hair as the younger grumbled.

“Is this good?” He asked, showing the photo to Keonhee.

Keonhee flapped a hand, smacking Dongju repeatedly on the back. “Send it to me, send it to me!” He demanded.

“Ow, I’m doing it!” Dongju said, batting away the other’s hands. When one got too close to his face again, he seized it and bit down on Keonhee’s thumb. The other still tasted like rain with a hint of ozone.

“Piranha!” Keonhee screamed, yanking his hand out of Dongju’s mouth. There was a bright ding as Keonhee’s phone chimed in his pocket. The other shot Dongju a wary look but pulled his phone out. His mood did a 180 as he saw the photo come through. “Oh, I look good!”

Dongju rolled his eyes, as Keonhee continued to fawn over the picture. “Come on, let’s do one more game before the light show.”

“Light show?” Keonhee asked, finally looking up from his phone. Dongju noticed the other had set the photo as his lock screen and tried to deny the fuzzy feeling that gave him.

“Yeah,” Dongju said, “They do a big show at the end of the night with all the lights on the street.” He checked the time on his phone, before stuffing it back in his pocket. “We still have like thirty minutes.”

Keonhee’s eyes lit up. “Sounds like a plan!” He trailed after Dongju as the other led them to a game booth that boasted an array of large stuffed animals hanging from the edges of the booth. The game itself was fairly simple, just squirting water from a gun mounted to the counter in front of the booth into a hole to cause a mechanical reindeer to race across a backdrop painted to look like a snowy field. It was a group game, so Dongju handed the attendant the money before sitting down on one of the stools to wait.

Luckily, given how crowded the festival was, he didn’t have to wait long. The stools next to him filled up quickly and soon enough the attendant was explaining the rules of the game to all of them. Dongju took aim with his squirt gun, and soon the bell rang to signal the start of the race. Dongju squeezed the trigger and his reindeer took off sluggishly, already lagging slightly behind the others. He grimaced, squeezing the trigger harder, but to no avail. The water stream, if anything, came out slower. Dongju briefly wondered if the game was rigged. It was then that he noticed Keonhee whistling casually as he leaned on the counter next to Dongju, despite the fact that no one else could see him.

“Oops,” Keonhee said in a sing song voice, moving a hand to rest on top of Dongju’s water gun. Almost immediately the water stream intensified, punching out of the gun with enough force that Dongju spun off target for a second. He struggled to refocus the blast, and as soon as the strong stream hit the target Dongju’s reindeer rocketed forward. Dongju was almost embarrassed by how fast his reindeer crossed the finish line, almost a foot ahead of all his competitors. There were a few good natured groans around the booth as the bell rang again to signal the end of the race.

“Congratulations, racer number seven!” The attendant said, turning to Dongju, though the man looked a little confused by the turn of events as well. “Feel free to choose any prize!” He gestured to all the animals hung up around the booth. Dongju blinked, glancing at all the stuffed animals. There were quite a few cute ones that he was sure Dongmyeong would have liked, but then Dongju glanced at Keonhee who was staring at one in particular wistfully.

“That one,” Dongju said, pointing at a snow white rabbit with a red ribbon tied around its neck. The attendant moved to the side of the booth to unhook the rabbit and hand it over to Dongju. “Congratulations again! Have a wonderful rest of your night!”

Dongju knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he slid off the stool and walked away from the booth, rabbit held in his arms. “You cheated, you know,” he said.

“What?” Keonhee asked, looking mock offended. “Me? Cheat? I would never!”

Dongju shook his head. “You did. But you know what that means?”

“What?” Keonhee asked warily.

“It means you won this more than I did,” Dongju said, holding the rabbit out to Keonhee.

Keonhee stopped walking and stared at Dongju with wide eyes. “What?”

“It’s yours,” Dongju said, forcing the rabbit into Keonhee’s arms. The other took it blankly, staring at the rabbit almost uncomprehendingly.

“You’re giving this to me?”

“Why not?” Dongju said, “You were the one who really won it.”

Keonhee ran a hand through its soft white fur. He made a face as the tears streaming from his eyes started to fall onto the rabbit. “No,” he said holding the rabbit back out, “I’m getting it all wet.”

“That’s okay,” Dongju said with a shrug.

“What?” Keonhee asked, nonplussed. “I’ll just ruin it. You should take it.”

“It’s okay if you ruin it,” Dongju said. “If you do, we’ll just come back here and win another one.”

Keonhee’s mouth opened and closed a few times and he slowly lowered the rabbit back down to his side. “Would you really come back here with me?” He asked quietly after a few seconds.

“Yeah,” Dongju said. “And if it’s after Christmas then we can just go to that store on fourth street and pick up one.”

Keonhee was silent for another long minute, but Dongju waited him out patiently. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you is a start,” Dongju offered.

Keonhee laughed, and Dongju graciously ignored how it was slightly more watery than usual (and that was saying something). “Okay. Thank you,” Keonhee said, tucking the rabbit under his arm carefully. “I-“

He broke off as the lights around them flashed red then green. There was a chorus of cheers as the lights began to flicker in different colors, trees lighting up one after the other down the street. Dongju couldn’t help his smile as the arches of lights over the street twinkled gold. When he glanced at Keonhee, he could see the other was entranced by the strings of lights alternating colors overhead and how the large Christmas tree at the far end of the street lit up one string at a time before the star at the top burst into a silver light.

Twenty minutes later, Keonhee and Dongju were walking out of the festival as the stalls began their final sales. Dongju managed to snag a couple to-go cups of hot chocolate for himself and Keonhee, and as the two of them walked down the street and the festival faded behind them, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt as warm.

“Hey, Keonhee,” Dongju said, suddenly remembering the reason he’d invited the other out in the first place.

“Yeah?” Keonhee asked, carefully balancing his hot chocolate in one hand and stuffed rabbit in the other.

“What are you doing for Christmas Eve?”

Keonhee blinked. “Probably just sitting in the park or something. I don’t really do much for the holidays since I’m, you know.”

“Would you like to come over to the apartment for Christmas Eve?” Dongju asked, “I’m inviting everyone and if you want to, I’d like you to be there.”

Keonhee gaped at Dongju. “Really?” He asked. “But we destroyed your place last time.”

“I know,” Dongju said, “Believe me, Dongmyeong won’t let me forget, but I still want you all there. You’re my friend.”

There was a beat of silence. “Dongju, do you know how I spent my last Christmas Eve before I became like this sixteen years ago?” Keonhee finally asked.

“Uh, no?” Dongju said, a bit thrown off by the change in topic but decided to play along.

“I spent it alone crying in my room,” Keonhee said, his brutal honesty cutting into Dongju’s heart. “I hadn’t been able to go home for Christmas and all my friends had already left for home so I just spent the whole time sitting around my apartment. I guess I must have drank too much spiked eggnog or whatever because I don’t remember anything else but crying myself to sleep. When I woke up, I was like this.”

Dongju’s stomach dropped. “You mean-“

“The last Christmas I remember before they all started blurring together into a haze of rain storms I spent trying to figure out why no one could see me and why I couldn’t stop crying,” Keonhee confirmed.

Dongju was silent as he tried to process this new information. “Well,” he finally said, “I can’t change what happened then, but I can make sure you don’t have another Christmas like that.”

Keonhee smiled, and for just an instant the tears streaming down his face paused. “I’d be happy to come over for Christmas Eve.” They ended the night planning how Dongju might ask the three other calamities to attend the party and for once sharing more laughter than tears.

Dongju was less sure of how to approach the other three calamities, worrying that they might think him weird for inviting them to a Christmas event when he’d just met them, but the thought of all of them spending the holiday by themselves, aimlessly roaming the streets and staring at store displays to feel a little less lonely, had him sucking it up and sending a message to Hwanwoong.

The wind calamity messaged back in no time at all, sounding rather excited to meet up with Dongju despite their lack of former acquaintanceship. Since Dongju didn’t know what the other really liked, he had decided to go with a fairly neutral meeting place. There was a tree lighting ceremony in the middle of the shopping district every year. It sounded like a stuffy affair on paper, but it was really just an excuse to listen to musical performances from local artists, buy expensive trinkets and drink maybe a little too much mulled wine as the evening went on.

Dongju arrived ten minutes before their planned meeting time only to find the other already waiting on the edge of the shopping district and eyeing one of thee booths that dripped with cheesy ornaments. Most of them were the typical Christmas designs- snowflakes, reindeer, wreaths and mugs of hot chocolate- but there were a couple that looked like they were based off popular television shows or anime characters decked out in festive wear. Dongju admitted privately that the one of a corgi wearing a red holiday sweater and holding a tiny bone with a sprig of holly tied to it was pretty cute.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” Dongju said, walking up to Hwanwoong.

The other looked away from an ornament that looked like a tiny folding fan painted with bright red poinsettias. “Nope!” Hwanwoong said, “I got here too early anyway. I didn’t have anything else to do today.”

Dongju began to slowly start walking away from the ornament booth, Hwanwoong following at a leisurely pace. He still had trouble looking the calamity in the eye, the other’s irises and pupils still blurring quickly in a way that made Dongju’s feel dry and achy. Dongju decided to focus on the stall selling gourmet hot chocolate instead. He slipped the bluetooth earpiece he’d, ahem, borrowed from his brother’s room into his ear preemptively. Hopefully it would dissuade anyone from giving him strange looks for talking to thin air once they saw the device.

“Do you want to get some?” Dongju asked. “We still probably have at least an hour and a half before they light up the tree.”

Hwanwoong glanced toward the large tree standing in the middle of the shopping district.It stood an imposing forty feet in height and probably at least twenty in diameter. Even unlit it was eye-catching, dripping in silver tinsel and oversized red and gold ornaments. There were a few unique ornaments thrown in for the town like a stuffed white and silver version of the nearby university’s logo, a plastic model of a famous local restaurant, and painted ornaments for the town’s fire department.

They both got in line for the hot chocolate booth. Dongju looked over the menu eagerly, worrying his lip over which option to choose between the caramel or peppermint hot chocolate. He grimaced that the prices were so high and forced himself to choose only one of the drinks, ultimately resolving to order the caramel version. At least both options came with mini marshmallows.

“You know, I’ve never been to one of these festivals,” Hwanwoong said as Dongju shivered in the line, “Not even back when I was in university.”

“Did you go to college here?” Dongju asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Hwanwoong said, “It was probably a few decades ago. I was studying dance performance.”

Dongju blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “So did you just go home for the holidays after the dance showcase then?”

As far as Dongju knew their school had two major dance showcases open to the general public, one during the holidays and one at the end of the academic year. Though Dongju wasn’t a dance major himself, he knew how big a deal it was in the performing arts building. He went to one of the showcases once with his brother and he remembered gaping at how large scale the production was. He felt like he should have paid far more than what he had to watch the performances.

“No,” Hwanwoong said, “I stayed on campus for all the holidays except Chuseok. I usually just went to the practice rooms during Christmas.”

“The whole time?” Dongju said with a frown.

“Yeah,” Hwanwoong replied nonchalantly.

“Even though the showcase was over?”

“I wanted to start practicing for the spring showcase.”

“But that’s five months away!”

“I know,” Hwanwoong sighed, “But I wanted to be prepared.”

“That…” Dongju started, “You must have been very dedicated.”

Hwanwoong laughed. “That’s a polite word for it. I might have been closer to obsessed. Had to make sure every little move was perfect, you know?”

“You were concerned about your grades?”

“Not even that,” he shrugged, “Just… you know. I had to be perfect. I couldn’t make even a little mistake, or else.”

“Or else what?”

“I would have been disappointed with myself,” Hwanwoong said. The line moved forward, and as the duo stepped up Dongju could smell the notes of chocolate, peppermint, and sea salt caramel more clearly.

“I don’t think it’s healthy to be so hard on yourself,” Dongju said.

“Maybe not,” Hwanwoong said, “But it’s hard to stop, you know? You just have to be better and better every time. Is it bad to want to surpass yourself?”

“It is if it’s to the point where you’re spending all your time working and nothing else,” Dongju said.

Hwanwoong hummed noncommittally. “I guess.”

Part of Dongju wanted to argue more, but he still didn’t know Hwanwoong that well and felt uncomfortable giving advice to someone he wasn’t close with. That said, he still wanted the other to take care of himself. He wondered if the other’s habit of overworking was what led him to become a calamity in the first place.

“So, what are you getting then?” Dongju asked, awkwardly changing the subject.

“Probably the one with all the marshmallow fluff,” Hwanwoong said airily. “Though the one with the pretzel straw looked interesting.” 

They spent the next few minutes in line debating the various flavors of hot chocolate, which led to a discussion about flavor combinations in general as they inched closer and closer to the front. He was sure that he still got a few weird looks from the others standing in the line despite his efforts to be as quiet as possible during their argument, but what could Dongju say, talking about food was one of the few things that got him heated. Eventually it was only the sound of the clearly underpaid teenager manning the stand clearing his throat that brought the two of them out of a debate over whether ketchup or mustard was the superior hot dog condiment.

“Are you ready to order?” The kid asked with no inflection.

“Yes,” Dongju said, feeling the back of his neck heat slightly with embarrassment. “I’ll have the sea salt caramel hot chocolate and and the hot chocolate with marshmallow fluff, please.”

“Hey!” Hwanwoong protested, “I can pay!”

Dongju gave him a skeptical look as they both stepped out of line and waited for their drinks to be called. “Can you? Can you really? Do you even have money?”

Hwanwoong winced. “I mean, I picked up a few coins on the ground on my way here!” He pulled four coins out of his pocket, the total sum of which would probably pay for half a hot chocolate. “Here you go!”

Dongju sighed, but pocketed the coins anyway. “Thanks,” he said. At least the biggest one he could use for laundry. “Don’t worry though, I had to pay for everything when I hung out with Keonhee too.”

“Oh, ouch,” Hwanwoong laughed. “How much did that cost you?”

“Enough that I was glad I had some money saved up,” Dongju said. Despite his griping, a smile still came to his face when he recalled Keonhee excitedly hugging the snow bunny plush that Dongju had won.

“Well, I’ll try to be more conservative with your wallet then,” Hwanwoong laughed. “I think there’s plenty to do here anyway that wouldn’t require money.”

He was right, Dongju thought. Though there were stalls selling all manner of Christmas goods, there were a few blocked off areas to build snowmen, watch light displays in store fronts set to music, and even a few free arts and crafts areas that were sponsored by the town center itself. Granted, most of the craft areas were for kids, but he could see a few young couples and teenagers messing around at the tables as well. Dongju looked up when he heard his name called and walked up to the stall to grab their drinks.

“Where do you want to go first?” He asked, handing the hot chocolate piled high with slowly dissolving marshmallow fluff to Hwanwoong. He idly wondered what other people saw when he did that. Did they see a floating hot chocolate, or did the drink disappear as soon as Hwanwoong took it in his hands? He glanced around to gauge the public’s reaction, but no one was looking in their direction.

“Let’s do some of the craft stuff,” Hwanwoong said, “I want to make a card.”

They crossed around the tree toward the crafts area while sipping their drinks. The area was full of collapsible tables piled high with construction paper, markers, stickers, glitter, safety scissors and much more. Dongju felt like he was in elementary school once more as he and Hwanwoong found an open spot at the end of a long table. Dongju set his drink down as he reached for a piece of white construction paper.

“What are you gonna put on yours?” Dongju asked as Hwanwoong frowned down at his own blank piece of light blue paper.

“I need to think of a pun,” Hwanwoong said, “Shit, I didn’t have one prepared.”

Dongju laughed. “Just start decorating, it’ll come to you later.”

“Ugh, but what if I use up too much space decorating and I can’t squeeze in all the words?” Hwanwoogn fretted, running his fingers through his silver hair.

“Then you can get another piece of paper,” Dongju said, “Look, plenty of people have messed up already.” He pointed to the piles of abandoned half finished cards that littered the table. Some of them had streaks of glitter and globs of glue on them, a few others had misspelled half finished greetings, and a couple had shaky Christmas trees that were aborted halfway through and dissolved into angry green scribbles.

“No, no, I’ll think of something first,” Hwanwoong insisted.

Dongju just sighed in response. “Suit yourself, man.” He picked up a brown marker and started drawing a lumpy gingerbread man on the front. After a moment of consideration he grabbed a blue marker and drew twin tear tracks streaming down the gingerbread man’s eyes and laughed at the result.

He held the picture up to show Hwanwoong. “It’s Keonhee.” Hwanwoong laughed despite the fact that he had yet to start on his own card.

“You should give that to him. I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that,” he said.

“Actually, that’s a great idea,” Dongju hummed, leaning over the table to pick up a large sheet of paper before folding it into quarters. He quickly traced the gingerbread man on top of the folded paper with a brown marker before cutting out the shape. Soon he had four identical blank gingerbread outlines sitting in front of him. He nodded in satisfaction before setting about to decorate the blank outlines’ features.

Gingerbread Youngjo was sprinkled with blue and silver glitter that created a chaotic disaster of sparkles when Dongju lifted it to shake off the excess. Gingerbread Seoho had bright orange eyes, and Dongju messily glued orange and yellow tissue paper flames to his hands. Gingerbread Leedo was barefoot and Dongju drew thick angry eyebrows on him. Gingerbread Hwanwoong…

Dongju glanced to the man next to him. Hwanwoong had finally started on his own card, and his brow was furrowed in concentration as he carefully blocked out the letters on the front of his card. He looked back to the blank gingerbread man outline in front of him. Finally, Dongju decided to decorate Gingerbread Hwanwoong with scribbly gray eyes and a bunch of cotton balls he pulled apart into wispy clouds.

“Damn it!” He heard Hwanwoong hiss.

Dongju looked over to see the other had colored slightly outside of his block letters and was squeezing his blue marker with a little more force than was necessary. He opened his mouth to assure the other that it was alright, but Hwanwoong sucked in a deep breath through his nose and blew it out heavily through his mouth. The action sent out a burst of wind, which nearly upended the entire crafts area. The younger yelped as cotton balls shot up into the air, papers flew away, and bottles of glitter spilled across the table. A few people on the other side of the table shrieked as the gale blew past them.

“Hwanwoong!” He hissed, smacking the other lightly on the shoulder. His own gingerbread men had been spared the worst of the gale since he was next to Hwanwoong, but the breeze had spilled a container of green glitter all over his jacket sleeve. He groaned internally, knowing that he’d never get all of the glitter out of the fleece material.

“I’m sorry,” the other said, looking horrified. “I didn’t mean to!”

“Well, try to find another way to let it out then!” Dongju said.

“Sorry,” he apologized again, dropping his marker, “I just fuck up like this sometimes. I didn’t mean to.” A breeze rustled past Dongju, whipping Hwangwoong’s hair out of his face. Dongju’s anger started to turn to concern at the truly distraught expression Hwanwoong had.

“Woah, I’m not mad or anything-“ Dongju said, not having expected such a strong reaction.

“I’m sorry,” Hwanwoong said, backing away from the table. His eyes, the ones that hurt so much to look into, were now even harder to track than usual. Dongju’s own pupils ached watching the other’s eyes jitter from side to side. One of his hands came up to cover his throat almost involuntarily. His words came out in between heavy gasps. “I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay-“ Dongju began, only to feel an even stronger wind burst out from the other man, growing with every apology that spilled from Hwanwoong’s lips.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better,” Hwanwoong repeated like a broken record, the gales around them growing stronger and stronger even as Hwanwoong started to back away from the table. People at the table were starting to look concerned as the wind picked up. Some of them hugged their jackets closer to their bodies. He saw one woman quickly grab a girl who must have been her daughter by the arm as the wind threatened to sweep her off her feet. Papers fluttered off the table and were borne upwards by the wind, circling around Hwanwoong’s head like vultures orbiting prey.

The wind got louder and stronger. People began to abandon the tables, running from the sudden windstorm. He heard a few of them scream as the wind picked up, and saw 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hwanwoong continued to say, eyes unfocused. Dongju tried to yell over the wind for him to stop, that it was alright, but his words barely made it past his lips before being lost under the roar of the wind.

“Hwanwoong!” Dongju yelled. He took a step toward the other, and staggered as the wind nearly knocked him off his feet. Dongju flailed a hand out to land on the table in an effort to steady himself. His eyes widened as he realized the table was starting to lift off the ground as well. Dongju briefly had a horrifying image of the table flying into the windstorm and crashing into Hwanwoong. He had to end this quickly.

He put his head down against the wind, tucked his arms in and started to shoulder his way through the storm. “Hwanwoong!” He yelled again to no avail. The wind tore at any exposed bits of skin, making them feel raw. He heard a clatter behind him, and he thought that the table had probably been knocked over and gone skittering across the sidewalk.

Dongju continued forward, ignoring the sting of the wind against his face. He could barely keep his eyes open, his vision limited to only the barest slits under the gales. Even then, his eyes still stung and welled with tears involuntarily. He wasn’t sure if he was crying or if the tears were being blown away before they could even fall. He felt inappropriate laughter welling up in his chest as he briefly imagined Keonhee in his position. Unstoppable tears vs. immovable apologies, which would win?

He continued to struggle against the wind for an indeterminable amount of time. At points he was unsure if he was moving forward, the wind seeming to knock him back two steps for every one he took. However he must have been making some kind of progress though, because he eventually stumbled forward as the wind abruptly cut out. Dongju nearly fell to the ground as his body registered that it was no longer pushing agains the wall of wind that he’d been slogging through.

He blinked a few times, vision blurry with unshed tears, until eventually his eyes cleared enough to see he was standing in the center of the windstorm. It was much quieter in here. Where before he could hardly hear himself think over the rush of wind past his ears, here it was near deafening silence. But wait, there was something breaking the silence now that Dongju strained his ears. It was…

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Dongju looked to his right to Hwanwoong was still apologizing in between gasps for air. It was a wonder the either could even still manage to form words given how breathless his words sounded and faraway his eyes looked. Suddenly, Dongju realized what he was dealing with. He’d seen that exact same expression on his brother’s face right before the other had had his first ever public performance on his keyboard back in middle school.

He’d come home from the convenience store that day to find Dongmyeong crouched in a fetal position on the floor in the bathroom, head in his hands and breaths coming out rapidly. Immediately terrified, Dongju had gone over to kneel down by his brother and ask what was wrong. Dongmyeong’s eyes had moved over toward him, but didn’t seem to focus really on Dongju’s face. Dongmyeong’s mouth opened and closed a few times but couldn’t quite seem to get any words out. Dongju had hovered there, terrified, before yelling for their mother. He would have run for her himself, but he was too scared to leave his brother on his own in that state.

Seconds later his mother had run into the bathroom, taken one look at Dongmyeong and Dongju and very quickly taken control of the situation. After Dongju blubbering his way through explaining that he’d found Dongmyeong in the bathroom in that state, his mother had knelt down next to Dongmyeong as well and spoken softly to him. She had moved slowly and asked, “Do you want to hold my hand?” Dongmyeong had managed a small, jerky nod and their mother had taken his hand in hers.

“I’m right here,” she said, “I want you to try and breathe with me, Dongmyeong. In… and out… in…” She had repeated the process a few times until his brother’s own breathing had slowed down considerably, some of the panic leaving his eyes. “Good. Keep breathing with me Dongmyeong. Do you want your brother to stay here?”

Dongmyeong had looked up at Dongju, and Dongju could see the other’s eyes were less clouded than they had been. “If you need me to stay I can,” Dongju had said quickly. Dongmyeong had paused before nodding.

“Okay, he’s going to take your other hand,” their mother said, gesturing for Dongju to do so. He followed the instructions quickly and winced at how cold his brother’s hand felt. “Focus on being here with us now. Follow our breathing…”

Dongju had continued to stay in the bathroom with his mother and brother for the next twenty minutes until Dongmyeong’s eyes had cleared entirely and he could feel warmth starting to flow back into his brother’s fingers. Afterwards his mother had taken him aside and explained in a low voice what a panic attack was. Dongju had been scared at first for his brother, but his mother had assured him that if it happened in the future he would know what to, both for Dongmyeong and in the case that it ever happened to himself. Dongju had been lucky enough that he’d never had a panic attack, but he had needed to help his brother through them a couple times since they’d both gotten an apartment together away from home.

He had always been grateful that his mother had apparently known how to handle dealing with panic attacks, as he’d been able to help not only his brother but a few of his schoolmates through them. He was even more grateful that his mother had done her research on the topic herself after he heard a few horror stories from his classmates regarding their own parents handling their panic attacks poorly.

It was these experiences that Dongju called on as he slowly approached Hwanwoong, body language open and unthreatening. “Hwanwoong?” He called softly. “Hwanwoong, it’s me, Dongju.” The other didn’t look up from where he was, staring at the ground with one of his arms wrapped tightly around his torso and the other still clutching at the base of his throat in a mimicry of a man drowning. Dongju slowly continued to get closer, narrating his every action as he approached Hwanwoong. The other reacted neither negatively nor positively to his proximity.

Eventually Dongju was right next to him. He looked down at the older man, before kneeling down to bee in Hwanwoong’s line of sight. “Hwanwoong?” He finally met the other’s gaze. Dongju’s eyes almost immediately welled up with tears again as the irises seemingly vibrated in place, but Dongju refused to drop his gaze this time.

“Hwanwoong, I’m here to help you. Are you okay with me staying?”

That finally seemed to get a response as Hwanwoong’s apologies stuttered to a stop. For a long moment the only sound was the wind swirling around them, but eventually Hwanwoong gave Dongju a small nod. Dongju let out a small sigh of relief that at least the other recognized he was present. He then held out his hand slowly.

“Are you okay if I touch you?” Dongju asked, “You can say no.” Hwangwoong stared blankly at Dongju’s extended hand for a second, before nodding again.

“Okay,” Dongju walked closer and took Hwanwoong’s hand in his own. It was just as cold as a blast of wind. Part of Dongju wanted to instinctively rip his hand back, but he just tightened his grip to try and help ground the other. “Hwanwoong, can you try and mirror my breathing? In… out… in… great, out…”

Slowly, Hwanwoong started to copy Dongju’s breathing patterns and started to slow his own hyperventilating. Dongju thought he. Heard the wind around them slowing slightly in time with their breaths, but he barely spared a thought to his surroundings as he kept up the breathing exercises. He looked again into Hwanwoong’s eyes, ignoring the sting of the wind and the blurring irises to try and keep Hwanwoong focused on what was in front of him. 

“Keep going,” Dongju said, “You’re safe here. This is going to pass soon.”

After a few more minutes of breathing and reminding Hwanwoong of where he was, the wind around them finally stopped kicking up and faded to a gentle breeze. Dongju watched curiously as Hwanwoong’s eyes incrementally stopped blurring so heavily, and for once he could see the other’s irises clearly without the typical pain accompanying it.

“How do you feel?” Dongju asked.

Hwanwoong opened his mouth a few times before managing a small, “Better.”

“Good,” Dongju said warmly, though he didn’t drop the other’s hand yet. He finally chanced a look around and saw that the whole crafts area looked particularly windswept. The table they’d been working on was overturned, and a number of supplies had blown all over town square. There weren’t any people around the area despite how crowded it had been previously, and Dongju had suspected most of them had run off when the wind started picking up. Apparently Hwanwoong had been looking at the damage as well since his face twisted into a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault,” Hwanwoong said quietly.

“Hey, no, it was just an accident,” Dongju said, squeezing Hwanwoong’s hand. “No one was hurt.”

“But-“

“And if you really feel bad about it,” Dongju cut the other off before he could sink further into any self loathing, “We can help pick things up.”

He gave the other’s hand one final squeeze before walking over to the nearby overturned table and hoisting back upright. He turned to Hwanwoong and tilted his head toward all the displaced art supplies strewn all over the ground. The calamity stared at him blankly for a second before moving to pick up some of the overturned bottles of glitter and scattered stacks of construction paper. As they kept working, a few of the employees who had been running the stall returned and starting picking things up as well.

“Well! That was exciting!” One of the attendants, an older woman with graying brown hair and a bright red apron, laughed oblivious to Hwanwoong’s flinch next to Dongju.

“Sure was,” Dongju hummed noncommittally.

“Must be Old Man Winter giving us a season’s greeting.” The woman smiled. “You know, I remember another wind storm like this that happened, oh, forty years ago?”

“Really?” Dongju asked.

“Yes, it was… the eighties?” She smiled, “Before you were born, I’m sure.”

“I was born in 2000,” Dongju confirmed.

“So young,” she said, sounding two seconds away from pinching his cheeks. Dongju really hoped she didn’t and subtly edged away. He could hear Hwanwoong snickering by his side. Luckily, the woman didn’t seem to notice as she bent down to gather a few stray pipe cleaners. “But yes, forty years ago there was a terrible windstorm round here. I was a student at this university you know. I was getting my graduate degree in mechanical engineering at the time.”

“Uh huh,” Dongju said. He was starting to get flashbacks to all the family reunions his parents had made him to attend around the holidays and the boring conversations he’d been forced to have with his relatives now that he was deemed too old for the kids’ table.

“It was around the end of the year,” she said, “Right after the winter showcase, you know? It was a lovely showcase. I went with my boyfriend then, now my husband. All the singers had such beautiful voices. I think one of them is on the radio nowadays!”

“Really?”

“Yep! I forget her name though,” she sighed.

A thought struck Dongju. “Were there any dancers?”

“Oh, of course!” she said, perking up, “Lovely performances. There was a group that did a traditional fan dance and a group that did some ballet…Oh! And there was this amazing solo dancer who did this very trendy modern dance.”

Dongju saw Hwanwoong stiffen at his side. Bingo. “What kind of trendy dance?”

“Something the kids were into at the time,” she said, “I’m afraid I was never very up to date on my pop culture. But even I could tell he was talented, goodness. He didn’t even use any set or props, but he still had the whole audience spellbound!”

“Do you remember his name?” Dongju asked.

“What are you doing?” Hwanwoong hissed, ears burning red.

“Just listen!” Dongju whispered back.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” the woman said, shaking her head, “It’s been so long. But I remember one thing! He had bright silvery hair!” She laughed, “My boyfriend and I both joked that he was going to be given detention the minute he stepped off stage. There were a lot of rules against dyeing your hair back then, you see.” Dongju watched Hwanwoong tug at his silver strands self consciously.

“I did get detention,” Hwanwoong pouted. Dongju had to hold back a laugh at the other’s sulky expression.

“They took those out in the performing arts school now,” Dongju said.

“Yes, and thank goodness,” the woman laughed, “I enjoy seeing just what all the colors are at the winter and spring showcases.”

“You still go to see them?” Dongju asked.

“Oh, yes of course!” She said, “My husband and I enjoyed the first one so much, that it’s become a bit of tradition at this point. We never did see that dancer again though, such a shame.”

“Wonder what he’s doing now,” Dongju said, staring Hwanwoong pointedly in the eye.

“I hope he’s still doing what he loves,” she said, “He was just captivating on stage.”

The conversation from there turned to holiday decorations around the university and the tree lighting ceremony that would be happening soon. Dongju actually found himself enjoying talking with the older woman, and when all the crafting supplies were finally picked up, she gave him a warm hug in thanks and a candy cane that she pulled out from a pocket in her apron. Dongju was satisfied as he unwrapped the candy, stuck it in his mouth and waved to her. He had just started to walk away with Hwanwoong. It was just as he turned that a piece of paper stuck in a nearby bush caught his eyes. He brightened in recognition and stuffed the paper in his coat before Hwanwoong could see it.

“So that was interesting,” Dongju said, catching up with Hwanwoong who was wandering toward a stall that was selling large, plastic pine wreaths with all kinds of ornamentation.

“Yeah,” Hwanwoong said, looking a bit lost in thought. His eyes were blurring slightly once more. Dongju wondered if that meant he had a lot on his mind. “She saw my showcase.”

“Sounds like it had a lasting impact on her if she still remembers it all these years later.”

“I had a cold at the time,” Hwanwoong said.

“Doesn’t seem like that mattered,” Dongju said, “To me it sounds like you were the best performer on the stage.”

“Hm,” Hwanwoong said, though his lips were tugging upward.

“Hey,” Dongju said, “You’re really incredible.”

Hwanwoong looked up in surprise. “You haven’t even seen me dance.”

“Yeah,” Dongju shrugged, “But I just meant with how dedicated you seemed. I mean, obviously you need to take better care of yourself,” Hwanwoong winced, “But I think people who are truly passionate about what they’re doing are kind of incredible.”

Hwanwoong squirmed at the words. “Stop, you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not,” Dongju said, pointing the half eaten candy cane that he had melted in his mouth into a fairly intimidating shank at Hwanwoong. “Say you’re incredible.”

Hwanwoong grimaced. “No.”

“Say it!”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“Say it!”

“No!”

Dongju grabbed Hwanwoong’s arm with his spare hand, “Say it or I’ll bite you!”

“What?!” Hwanwoong flailed futilely in his grasp.

“Too late.” Dongju dragged the other’s uncovered hand toward his mouth and bit down on Hwanwoong’s knuckle. A tiny part of his brain thought the words ‘minty fresh’ as he absently noted how the other tasted like wintergreen.

Hwanwoong protested loudly. “What the hell?! Keonhee was right, you are some kind of piranha!” He shook his hand, but couldn’t dislodge Dongju.

“Shayh ith!” Dongju yelled, voice muffled.

“Ow! Fine, I’m incredible!” Hwanwoong cradled his hand to his chest as Dongju finally released him. He could see the bite marks visible on the other’s knuckles. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“My brother asks me that every day,” Dongju said, wiping his mouth before sticking the candy cane back in his mouth and crunching the sharpened tip off.

Hwanwoong shook his head but Dongju could see a smile threatening the other’s lips. “You’re a weird one.”

“I know,” Dongju said shamelessly, “But I got you to say it.”

“What, that I’m incredible?” Hwanwoong said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“But I’m-“
“If you finish that sentence with anything but ‘amazing’, I’ll bite you again,” Dongju threatened.

Hwanwoong laughed. “I was going to say ‘not a dancer anymore’.”

“Did you ever stop practicing?” Dongju asked skeptically.

“Well, no,” Hwanwoong admitted.

“So you’re still an incredible dancer,” Dongju said.

“You still haven’t seen me dance,” Hwanwoong said.

“Dance then,” Dongju said.

Hwanwoong gave him a blank look. “What, like right here?”

“Sure.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Dongju asked, “It’s not like anyone can see you.”

“It’s just…”

Dongju tilted his head. “If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to, but I’d still like to see you dance someday.”

Hwanwoong’s face did something complicated before settling somewhere between embarrassed and pleased. “Fine. But only once!”

Hwanwoong shrugged off his heavy winter coat and handed it to Dongju. Despite the winter chill, the calamity didn’t seem to feel the cold at all as he began his routine. Even as the other took his starting place Dongju could tell that Hwanwoong was disciplined, his position belying a sort of strength and grace that came only with a combination of talent and hard work.

The other began, going through a complicated series of steps that Dongju could hardly keep up with but flowed seamlessly from one into the next. There wasn’t any music, at least none that Dongju could hear, but Hwanwoong kept every movement precise and powerful. The wind flowed in the other’s wake, dancing alongside him and accentuating every one of Hwanwoong’s movements with an added flair of windswept snow.

I was right, Dongju thought, he really is incredible.

The other’s routine finally wound down and Hwanwoong came to a rest in his final position, staring up at the night sky with his chest heaving. For a second Dongju was frozen, taking in the gravity of the entire dance, before he started to clap enthusiastically. “That was amazing!” He said, beaming at Hwanwoong.

The noise seemed to snap Hwanwoong out of whatever trance he’d been in while dancing and he immediately broke his posture and started waving off the praise. “No, I just-“

“Was incredible,” Dongju finished helpfully, handing the other his coat back. “Your dance was so cool, I feel like I should have paid money to watch that!”

“Stop!” Hwanwoong said, shrugging the coat back on and zipping it up.

“But I was right!” Dongju gloated.

Hwanwoong sighed. “Fine.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

Dongju grabbed Hwanwoong’s hand again and looked pointedly on the lingering teeth marks on the other’s skin. “Say it.”

“I’m incredible, I’m incredible!” Hwanwoong said hastily, ripping his hand out of Dongju’s. “Is this just how you always get your way?”

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Dongju said cheerfully, finishing off his candy cane with a loud crunch it between his teeth.

“I-“ Hwanwoong began.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Hwanwoong was cut off by a loud countdown coming from the people around them. Dongju looked around to see all the others in the square gathering closer to the large tree in the center of town square and abruptly realized what was happening. On impulse, he grabbed Hwanwoong’s arm and dragged the other closer to the Christmas tree.

“Three! Two! One!”

Dongju watched as the large tree lit up in levels, golden lights sparking to life around the tree’s pine branches until they reached the top. The large star set at the top of the tree illuminated with bright white and gold bulbs, and cheers erupted around the town center. Dongju spent a few minutes looking at the tree, taking in the spectacle and the ornaments that had lit up with the surge of lights.

“Wow,” Hwanwoong said, making Dongju look at him. He could see the lights glinting off the other’s gray eyes, for once completely still like the center of a hurricane. “I’ve never been able to see this while I was here.”

“Did you never come to the town center while you went to college?” Dongju asked.

“I never looked around,” Hwanwoong said, “I would kind of just go to the grocery store and maybe the department store if I needed an outfit for a dance event.” He glanced around. “One time I went to that coffee shop over there because I was meeting a friend to go over our dance routine.”

“You really didn’t do anything else, huh,” Dongju said.

“No,” Hwanwoong said. “I felt like I didn’t have time to.”

“You have time now,” Dongju said.

“I have nothing but time now,” Hwanwoong agreed.

“Well, since you have nothing but time,” Dongju said, pulling out of the piece of paper he’d plucked from the bush. It was lopsided cutout of a gingerbread man with wispy cotton balls glued all over it. Dongju had been happy that at least one of them had survived. “Do you want to come to the Christmas Eve party my brother and I are hosting? The others will be there too.”

Hwanwoong took the flimsy paper with care, as if was much more precious than a cheap craft made from construction paper and colored pencil. “Sure,” he said. Dongju graciously didn’t comment on how the other’s voice wavered. After all, it might have just been the nearby gust of wind.

If Dongju had a hard time trying to figure out where to go with Hwanwoong, he was positively at a loss when it came to Geonhak. The other, upon asking Youngjo, had the unfortunate ability to make the ground crumble around his feet. Even more unfortunately it appeared that the calamity didn’t have the best control over his ability, making it difficult to figure out what activity would even be possible for the both of them.

Ice skating was out of the question. Dongju had no desire to take a dip in a freezing cold lake. Most street festivals or outdoor events were dicey with the fact that the other would probably start tearing up the sidewalk and pavement wherever they went (and honestly the roads in the area already had enough potholes and uneven pavement). But what could a person really do that wouldn’t require being on their feet? Just sitting around at a cold outdoor cafe wasn’t very appealing to Dongju.

“Just go sledding or tubing,” Dongmyeong said when he brought the problem to his brother. Dongmyeong had given him a look like Dongju was an idiot. “Duh.”

And so, here Dongju stood shivering in a line waiting to rent an inner tube from a large cabin warehouse full of inflatable sleds. Geonhak had apparently gotten to the artificial mountain early and already rented (stolen?) his tube. According to his text, he was waiting for Dongju at the base of the mountain. Dongju hoped that the other wasn’t sitting in a hole of his own making that Dongju would have to pull him out of.

As he waited, Dongju glanced up at the mountain that he and Geonhak would be sledding down. Half of the mountain was devoted to skiing accessibly by a chair lift. He could see the distant tiny forms of skiers tracing their way down the mountainside. Set off to the slide were the bunny slopes where he saw the small colorful jackets of children slowly making their way down the gentle incline.

The other half of the mountain was made for tubing and was accessible by a slow moving conveyor belt that riders could both stand on and set their inner tubes on to be taken the distance up the mountain side. The tubing area only had one area on the slopes, so children and adults alike stood in line for the conveyor belt. He could hear faraway screams of delight as another group of colorful donut shaped tubes descended the mountain quickly. He used to come here with Dongmyeong and his parents, and he missed the full days his family would spend tubing and, once Dongmyeong and Dongju were able to balance properly, skiing down the mountain. He would’ve suggested skiing as well, but he was worried that if Geonhak attempted the activity the other might cause an avalanche by mistake or at least break his skis. He jolted back out of his thoughts as the line continued to move forward.

Thankfully, the line went fairly quickly and before Dongju knew it he had rented a tube and was dragging it behind himself via a strap attached to the front of the tube. He was vaguely reminded of the times when he was a child and would tie pretty much everything to a string and drag it behind himself calling it a ‘dog’. The tube itself was an inflated rubber tire shape and the bottom was covered by thick, smooth plastic, making it drag near frictionlessly over the snow. The top of the tube was covered in red cloth with two plastic handles set on opposite ends. The tube also had an arrow painted on the front of it to show which part of the tube was supposed to go down the slopes first.

Dongju steadily trudged through the snow toward the base of the mountain, eyes scanning the crowd for the bright blue and green jacket that Geonhak promised he’d be wearing (he also scanned for any noticeable holes in the snow just in case, but luckily there didn’t seem to be any newly created trenches). It turned out that Dongju didn’t need to look very hard as he quickly spotted the other. Geonhak’s jacket was easily visible due to the neon green accents running up and down the arms, one of which were waving at Dongju while the other clutched the strap of his own green inner tube.

“Over here!” Geonhak yelled, his distinctive voice rumbling across the snow covered clearing. Dongju was briefly glad that the other wasn’t visible to most normal people as he was sure the other would have been drawing attention otherwise.

“Hey,” Dongju said, pulling his tube up to Geonhak.

He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the other in person. Though he knew that Geonhak was a pretty easy going guy, both from stories that Youngjo told him about the earth(?) calamity and the other’s own laid back texting style, but Dongju couldn’t help but feel nervous. What if the ground opened below them and swallowed them whole? It sounded like something out of a nightmare to Dongju.

The other must have noticed Dongju’s glance toward the ground beneath them if his wry smile was anything to go by. “Don’t worry,” Geonhak said, thumping Dongju on the shoulder and nearly knocking the younger off his feet, “I can stand on snow normally.” The other bent over to pick up a handful of crumbling snow. “Snow is already powdery, so my abilities don’t really affect it. See?” He jumped up and down on the snow, but didn’t sink into it at all.

Dongju relaxed slightly. “Oh good. I was worried…” He trailed off, not knowing if he was being impolite.

The other thankfully just laughed. “No, we’re good. You might have to help me anywhere that’s not snow, but for now I’m fine.”

“What about the conveyor belt?” Dongju asked, glancing at the line for the belt. The structure that hauled the belt up the mountain seemed to be made mostly of wooden supports.

“We can just do this!” Geonhak flopped into his inner tube and held the strap up to Dongju with a wide grin on his face.

“Wait, you’re making me haul you around everywhere?” Dongju asked.

Geonhak shrugged. “Unless you want the whole thing to come down.”

Dongju frowned as he looked from Geonhak to the conveyor belt and back again. Geonhak shook the strap in his hand expectantly. “Ugh, fine.” 

He took the strap from Geonhak and sighed as he started to drag both inner tubes toward the conveyor belt. He struggled for a minute with how unbalanced the two weights were. The empty inner tube would slide easily with just a tug, but the inner tube with Geonhak on it dragged behind. Dongju recalled the time he saw Geonhak in his apartment with despair, since he knew that the other was primarily packing heavy muscle under his winter coat.

“God, you’re heavy,” Dongju grunted, leaning forward to keep his balance.

“Hey, you’re almost there,” Geonhak said cheerfully.

The other was right. Soon enough Dongju found himself nearing the front of the line waiting for the conveyor belt, and as soon as the tubes hit the mat of the belt Dongju breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that at least he didn’t have to drag the other up the mountain. If that had been the case, they might have only gone down the slopes once before Dongju threw in the towel.

“So have you been here before?” Geonhak, looking around.

On either side of them were people waiting on the belt with absently bored expressions. The ride up to the top of the hill took around five minutes, and Dongju was savoring the brisk winter air and the few minutes he had to just take in the scenery. There were trees planted on either side of the slopes, faraway enough that there was no risk of skiers or tubers hitting them but close enough to see how high they towered over the average human.

“I have,” Dongju said, “My family and I used to come here during the winter. Maybe once or twice a year.”

“Do you not go anymore?” Geonhak asked.

“Not since my brother and I left for college,” Dongju said, “We don’t usually have time to get away with exams in the winter. Also my parents are starting to get too old to ski.”

“They could tube like we’re doing,” Geonhak suggested.

“I guess they could, but they like skiing more,” Dongju said.

He turned to look at Geonhak. The other was sprawled lazily over his tube like a starfish, dragging his left hand through the snow on the side of the belt. He picked up a handful of snow and let it crumble between his fingers. Dongju wondered if the other could feel the cold, or if he was as immune to the cold as the rest of the calamities seemed to be.

“What about you?” Dongju asked, “Have you been here before?” He knew the mountain, artificial though it was, had been around for at least a few decades before he was born. How old was Geonhak even anyway?

“I’ve never been here,” Geonhak said, shaking his head, “But my family used to get flyers for it. We kept saying we’d go one day.”

“Never had time?” Dongju asked.

“Something like that,” Geonhak said, brow creasing and eyes glazing over with memory for a second before snapping back to the moment. “But it was a long shot anyway. We didn’t live around here. Our house was probably a good five hours from here, so we would have had to rent a hotel and everything too.”

“You could have stayed in the lodge,” Dongju said, pointing to the large building sitting a short walk from the bottom of the hill.

“We didn’t have that kind of money,” Geonhak said.

“Ah, sorry,” Dongju said, heat flushing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” Geonhak said, “We weren’t like, struggling financially too much. At least, we weren’t doing so bad that we ever had to give up any necessities. We just didn’t have much money saved for things like vacations. Most of it went to- belt’s ending.”

“Wh-?” Dongju nearly stumbled as the conveyor belt abruptly ended. He nearly went sprawling face first on the snow, but Geonhak managed to tug him back upright by pulling on the straps that Dongju still had a grip on. The other was also laughing the whole time, which somehow made the whole situation worse.

“Watch your step,” a tired sounding attendant said as Dongju sheepishly stepped to the side of the belt to allow the people behind him off.

“Oh my god,” Dongju muttered under his breath as he slowly dragged his and Geonhak’s tubes toward the lines for the slopes. “I want to die.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Geonhak said, though Dongju could still hear amusement coloring the other’s voice.

“It was, oh my god,” Dongju said, “I can never show my face in front of any of those people again.” He got in line behind a family of five.

Geonhak hummed. “That might be hard since we’re probably going to be taking the belt again. I mean, unless you want to waste all the money you paid for that tube and only do one run.”

“Ughhhh,” Dongju groaned.

Despite Dongju’s whining though, he couldn’t help the swoop of excited anticipation he got in his stomach as they got closer and closer to the front of the line. Soon enough they were watching the family in front of them get situated on the tubes as the college age attendant next to them rattled off a safety spiel about going down the right way and to not lean too far forward or to the side lest they tip their tubes over. Dongju recalled his own brother doing that once, leaning further to the right on a dare and eventually capsizing his tube. He’d been uninjured, thankfully, but he’d been stuck on the middle of the hill and had had to waddle awkwardly across the lanes to retrieve his tube from where it had slid away. It had held up other riders from being able to go down the hill, many of whom were loudly complaining from the top, and Dongmyeong had been so embarrassed by the whole ordeal that he had refused to talk to Dongju for the rest of the trip and the entire car ride home. Dongju had eventually bought the other hot chocolate for a week to get back on his brother’s good side.

“You nervous?” Dongju asked, looking down at Geonhak.

“Nope,” Geonhak said, eyes shining as he looked over the hill. The people at the bottom of the slopes looked small enough to be ants. “I’ve always wanted to try this.”

The family in front of them were soon gone with a wave from the attendant. Dongju could hear the kids shrieking with delight, the noise getting further and further away. The attendant motioned them forward, and Dongju dutifully dragged the tubes into place. He wondered what the attendant saw where Geonhak was concerned, but the man didn’t seem to even be looking in the calamity’s direction.

“Keep a firm grip on the handles,” the attendant rattled off, “And don’t lean too far forward or to the side. Try to keep the arrow pointed forward so you don’t spin around. Wait until I tell you to go.”

Dongju nodded and threw the strap into the middle of the tube before he sat down. He gripped the handles and used his feet to drag his tube forward. He could see Geonhak doing the same to his right out of the corner of his eye. The snowy ground wasn’t crumbling where his feet hit it, so Dongju guessed Geonhak had been telling the truth about his ability not being as effective in snow.

“Wanna race?” Geonhak asked, grinning at Dongju.

Dongju raised an eyebrow. “Obviously I’ll win since I’m lighter.”

“I can lean forward to go faster,” Geonhak said.

“What, you’re going to do one of the things that we’re specifically not supposed to do?” Dongju asked.

“Just a little bit,” Geonhak said with a shrug, “Not like I can get hurt. So, race?”

Dongju laughed. “Alright.” He used to race with his brother down the slopes and he’d never lost once. He could admit that sometimes he was a little childishly competitive, but it appeared that Geonhak was the same so he didn’t feel guilty.

“Go ahead,” the attendant said, waving them on.

Dongju took off immediately, tube racing down the hill. The wind sliced past his face, making him squint his eyes. Laughter spilled out from between his lips as his stomach dropped. For a second all he could think about was the rush of endorphins that came from the initial drop. But it was just when he was starting to lose focus that he could see Geonhak’s green tube starting to edge in front of him.

“Hey!” Dongju yelled over the winter wind. He only got Geonhak’s loud laughter in response. He gritted his teeth and hunched down to reduce wind resistance on his body. His tube started to accelerate in response until he was level with Geonhak’s once more.

“Is that it?!” Geonhak yelled, leaning so far forward that it looked like he was about to tip out of his tube. He rocketed in front of Dongju. Now, Dongju would admit later that what he did was stupid but he really wanted to win, goddammit. Against his better judgement Dongju mirrored Geonhak by leaning further and further forward, hoping the pressure he was putting on the handles would keep the tube from flipping.

What neither of them had counted on was the danger that came not from possibly capsizing their tubes, but from not slowing down at the bottom of the hill. Both of them came into the bottom so fast that they streaked past where other riders were dismounting their tubes. Dongju screamed at people to get out of the way as he nearly collided with a group of teenagers, who all shrieked as they dove out of his path.

He and Geonhak hit a padded wall set up at the bottom heavily. Dongju luckily hit the wall with side of his tube, and bounced off with a jolt so sudden that his teeth clicked shut hard. He was briefly grateful he hadn’t bitten his tongue. For a second his vision went blurry from the impact, but at least there didn’t seem to be any other lasting damage otherwise. Geonhak wasn’t so lucky though, hitting the wall milliseconds after Dongju and going feet first into it at full speed. He bounced off the wall as well, coming to a rest right next to Dongju.

“That was awesome!” Geonhak explained, cheeks flushed from excitement.

Dongju opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a loud splintering noise. He looked back at the padded wall to see it leaning dangerously far back. There was a series of further groans from the wooden wall before it finally toppled backward, the impact sending up a loud ‘boom!’ along with a spray of snow. The people around the two of them shrieked and ran away from the fallen structure.

“Uh,” Geonhak said, “Oops?”

“Let’s go,” Dongju said, hastily getting to his feet. “Go, go, go, go,” He quickly grabbed the straps from his and Geonhak’s tubes and dragged them toward the lodge attached to the resort. Hopefully no one would remember seeing him near the structure when it fell. “We’ll lay low here,” Dongju said, dragging Geonhak over to one of the picnic tables placed outside the lodge. 

It was a long wooden table, able to seat at least thirty people on one side. As he looked down the length of the table he could see a few families and groups of friends chatting as they shared paper boats of nacho, pretzels and hot dogs and sipped at cups of hot chocolate purchased from the lodge concession stand. Looking at the food and now smelling the enticing scents of popcorn, pretzels and other assorted junk food made Dongju’s own stomach growl.

“I’m going to get some food,” Dongju said, handing the strap of his tube to Geonhak as the other carefully levered himself out of his tube to move to one of the benches. “Don’t let anyone steal this.”

“Buy me a hot dog, and you got a deal,” Geonhak said as he took the strap. Dongju rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement.

The line for concessions was pretty long, but was moving quickly enough. Dongju winced as an announcement came over the lodge speakers that the tube slopes would be closed for an hour as the lodge got the safety measures back in place before apologizing to guests for the inconvenience. Dongju pulled the hood of his winter jacket up just in case as a chorus of groans and complaints broke out across the waiting area.

Once he had procured the food- two hot dogs, two cups of hot chocolate and a plate of nachos with cheese- Dongju carefully balanced the arrangement in his arms as he made his way back to the table while taking small steps to avoid upsetting the whole precarious stack. Geonhak looked up from his phone as Dongju neared the table. He grinned widely before shoving the phone back in his pocket.

“Finally,” Geonhak said as Dongju set the cups of hot chocolate down first.

Dongju frowned exaggeratedly. “See if I ever buy you food again.”

Geonhak’s eyes widened marginally. “No please, I can’t go back to eating ramen for every meal.”

“Then be grateful,” Dongju said. He set the rest of the food down and finally slid onto the bench across from Geonhak. It was just as he sat down that his body seemed to realize how long he’d been standing and the aches in his legs made themselves known. He grimaced in response.

“You good?” Geonhak asked, already reaching for his hot dog and drink.

“Sore,” Dongju said, “Probably be feeling it tomorrow.”

“We only went down the slopes once,” Geonhak said.

“I know, I’m just not used to these shoes.” He gestured to the large, sturdy snow boots he was wearing. They were nearly as stiff as they had been when he had bought them. Though there had been snow on the ground for weeks, Dongju had been stubbornly wearing his normal sneakers rather than the boots. Since they weren’t broken in, Dongju had been wincing as the shoes rubbed roughly against his ankles and heels despite his thick wool socks.

“Oh, I get that,” Geonhak said around a mouthful of hot dog. Dongju wrinkled his nose at the sight of half chewed food in the other’s mouth as he sipped at his own hot chocolate. “I don’t usually wear shoes, so none of mine are really comfortable.”

“You don’t wear shoes?” Dongju asked. Now that he thought about it, the other had been barefoot when he saw him back in Dongju’s apartment. He hadn’t bothered to count the number of shoes by the door, so he had no idea if Geonhak had worn any in. “Don’t your feet get cold?”

“Nah, I don’t really feel any of that,” Geonhak said with a shrug. “I guess that’s one of the perks.”

“I assume your feet don’t get nasty either?”

“Nope! Wanna see?” Geonhak reached for the laces of his snow boots, making Dongju nearly choke on the bite of hot dog he was chewing.

“No, no, no!” Dongju snapped, dropping the half eaten hot dog back in its paper boat to slap Geonhak’s hands away from his shoes. “We’re eating and the last thing I need to see is your gross feet!”

“They aren’t gross, that’s the point!” Geonhak laughed. “I swear they’re clean.”

“I don’t care how clean they are,” Dongju sniffed, “Shoving your feet in anyone’s face while they’re eating is gross.” He looked back down at his hot dog and felt his appetite drop slightly just from the conversation they’d been having. Despite this, he picked up his food once more, knowing that if he didn’t eat now he’d regret it later.

“Fine, I’ll just prove it later,” Geonhak said, thankfully straightening up to go back to his food. “But I get to ask you a question about yourself then.”

“What is it?” Dongju asked suspiciously.

“Hm…” Geonhak seemed to think for a moment, “What else did you and your family do in the winter other than coming here?”

Dongju blinked, not having expected such a normal question. “Well…” he dug back in his memories, “We made gingerbread houses most years. My brother and I would compete to see who could make the better one. Oh, and we usually went ice skating too.”

“Guess I couldn’t do something like that,” Geonhak joked.

“Unless you plan on swimming as well, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Dongju agreed with a smile.

The two of them finished off their hot dogs while discussing more typical winter events. Dongju talked about the snow sculpture competition that happened in a city two train stops down that he’d gone to view once a couple years ago and Geonhak revealed that he and his siblings used to have snowball fights every weekend in winter in the woods behind his old house. Dongju noticed that the other’s laid back expression shuttered marginally every time he mentioned his older brother, but didn’t push too far into it.

“Hey!” Dongju cried, smacking at Geonhak’s hand as the other tried to sneak some of his nachos.

“Ow!” Geonhak rubbed his hand, “You have so many though! You should share!”

Dongju stuck his tongue out. “Buy your own.”

“But I don’t have money!” Geonhak complained.

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Dongju said, pointedly taking a bite out of a chip.

“We can’t collect money with our states,” Geonhak defended.

“Hwanwoong said he’d pay me back,” Dongju said.

The wind calamity had promised at the end of their time at the tree lighting ceremony that he would pay for all of the food Dongju had bought him despite Dongju insisting the other didn’t need to worry about it. Eventually he’d given in and told Hwanwoong a much lower number than what he’d actually spend, but the other seemed satisfied and swore he’d reimburse Dongju before long.

“Dammit,” Geonhak muttered. His eyes narrowed as he reached for the chips again, only for Dongju to swat at his hand again.

“If you do that again, I’ll bite you,” Dongju said. He held Geonhak’s gaze unflinchingly. Geonhak paused and then, without breaking eye contact, reached out a hand deliberately toward the chip basket. “So you have chosen death,” Dongju said, seizing the other’s wrist. Geonghak was much stronger, Dongju knew this, but he was faster and he quickly clamped his teeth down on Geonhak’s wrist… and instantly regretted it.

“Serves you right,” Geonhak laughed as Dongju released his wrist and reeled backwards.

“Ugh!” Dongju spit out.

It felt like he’d just gotten a mouthful of dirt (a memory he had an unfortunate amount of experience with as he and Dongmyeong had often shoved each other’s faces into the dirt when they were children). He didn’t even have the will to stop Geonhak’s hand with a fresh set of teeth imprints from snagging a couple of his nachos. Dongju quickly chugged half of his remaining now-lukewarm chocolate to wash the taste of dusty ground from his mouth. “That’s really gross.”

“You’re the one who’s gross,” Geonhak chuckled. He lifted his hand to examine the bite mark before moving it over the side of the table. He smacked the back of his right hand with his left, and Dongju watched in amazement as the bite mark flaked off in pieces like mud or dirt. Geonhak examined his newly unmarked hand with satisfaction.

“That was weird,” Dongju said, “But also kind of cool.”

“Hm? Oh, you mean this?” Geonhak leaned back from the table and flicked a finger against the edge of his jaw. Dongju watched in awe and mild horror as a long crack began spiderwebbing up from the impact point, bits of his skin flaking off. Geonhak shook his head and dust cascaded downward from his head. When he straightened once more there was no sign of the cracked skin.

“That’s a great party trick,” Dongju eventually said. “If not a little disgusting.”

Geonhak laughed as he went back to stealing Dongju’s nachos. “So tell me about yourself then, since we’re gonna be stuck here for a while longer.”

“What do you want to know?” Dongju asked, unsure of where to begin.

Geonhak shrugged. “School. Family. Whatever you’re feeling.”

“Well,” Dongju dragged a chip through a cup of lukewarm cheese dip, “You’ve met my brother, Dongmyeong.”

“Oh yeah!” Geonhak smiled, “He’s your twin, right?”

“Yeah,” Dongju confirmed, “He’s a minute older than me.”

“Really? I would’ve thought you were older.”

“Why?”

“You just seem to like taking care of people. You’ve been inviting all of us out despite knowing what kind of things we can do.”

“You know about all of that?”

“Yeah. I’ve texted Hwanwoong and Youngjo. Hwanwoong wouldn’t shut up about all the food he ate at the tree lighting thing.”

Dongju laughed. “Yeah, he wanted to go to every stall he saw. Keonhee did that too.”

“They probably haven’t eaten real food in a while,” Geonhak said, “We don’t need to eat either.”

“I think Youngjo mentioned that,” Dongju said. “Is this your first meal in a while then?” He looked down at the overpriced nachos and empty hot dog boats with a grimace. It definitely would not have been his top pick for first meal in years.

“Nah, I actually try to eat every now and again,” Geonhak replied. “I probably eat about once a week or so, just to try something new.”

“So has this whole thing been an extended food tour for you then?” Dongju asked.

Geonhak laughed. “Something like that. After I turned out like this I did what every other person like us does and started wandering as far as I could. I couldn’t really get on a boat or plane easily, so most of my time has been spent wandering Asia and sometimes Europe. I like snowy places for obvious reasons, but I always end up coming back to my Korea every few years or so though.”

“Do you visit your hometown?” Dongju asked.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “My parents moved away forty years ago, though, and my sister is probably off with her husband and family somewhere else.”

“I’m sorry,” Dongju said, feeling as though he’d misstepped.

The calamity shrugged. “I don’t blame them. With all their kids gone, they probably didn’t want to stay around there.”

“Did all your siblings move?”

“No,” Geonhak said, eyes growing distant, “My older brother died fifty years ago. Before I became like this.”

“Oh, uh,” Dongju didn’t know what to say to that. ‘I’m sorry’ felt wholly inadequate as a response.

“It’s fine, it was a while ago,” Geonhak said, refocusing on Dongju, “I’ve had more than enough time to come to terms with it.”

His tone was forcibly light with false ease. Dongju knew he’d seen the flash of melancholy in the other’s eyes, and wondered if his brother’s passing had led to Geonhak becoming the way he was. Dongju nodded unsurely to the other’s words. No matter how much he and Dongmyeong bickered and hassled each other, Dongju was pretty sure he’d never be over it if he ever lost his brother. He didn’t know Geonhak well, but he was sure that something that difficult would be hard to overcome, especially if Geonhak was usually alone.

“Well,” Dongju said, “I know we kind of just met, but if you ever need to talk about it… I may not be able to offer much in way of advice, but I can at least listen.”

Geonhak blinked in surprise. “I’m really fine,” he said, “It was so long ago. I shouldn’t still be hung up on it.” To Dongju it sounded like Geonhak was trying to convince himself more than Dongju.

“Okay,” Dongju agreed easily. He wasn’t going to press the other about something so personal. “I’m just saying the offer’s open.”

Geonhak offered the younger a half smile. “Thanks.”

A silence fell between the two of them as they finished off the nachos and cheese. Dongju fiddled with the napkin in front of him for lack of something better to do, folding it back and forth into triangles and squares absentmindedly as he frantically searched for something to say (ideally something that wouldn’t make the situation even more awkward than it already was).

“My brother used to do that,” Geonhak said suddenly, breaking the silence between them. He pointed down at the napkin. “Origami.”

Dongju looked down at his hands to see that he’d folded the square napkin into a very sad, drooping crane. “My brother taught me how to make it,” he said without thinking, before wincing at the fact that he’d mentioned his own brother right after Geonhak had admitted to losing his own.

“Mine did too,” Geonhak said, beginning to fold his own napkin. Thankfully he didn’t seem to mind Dongju mentioning his own sibling. “My brother was sick a lot as the three of us grew up. He had some kind of bone related disease that meant he couldn’t go out much because of how fragile his bones were. He had to go to the hospital a lot.”

Dongju nodded, not daring to interrupt the other.

“He was five years older than me,” Geonhak said, folding down his crane’s wings. “It was when he was seventeen and I was twelve and our sister was seven that our family got the news that he probably wouldn’t be leaving the hospital again and had a month at the most left to live.

My parents were devastated. My mother just spent hours crying in their room and my father basically stopped speaking to anyone. Visits to the hospital were terrible. Thankfully my sister was too young to really understand what was happening, but she knew something was wrong. I also didn’t really understand the full scale of what was happening at the time, so she and I were the only ones who really were able to talk to my brother in that last month. He kept telling me he was bored waiting in the hospital room all day, so I just started bringing him books and things.”

“One day I brought him a huge stack of origami paper that I’d found in my room. It was some birthday gift from my aunt from years ago that I’d never gotten around to trying out. He seemed to really like it because it was just something he could do without thinking too hard. He told me there was a legend about paper cranes, that if you folded a thousand of them you’d get one of your wishes granted.”

“He taught me and my sister how to fold cranes back then, and with every one of them I wished that he would be able to get out of the hospital so we could all go back home and everything would go back to normal.” 

Geonhak paused as he set his finished napkin crane next to Dongju’s. His own napkin crane had remnants of nacho cheese around its bill, but sat up straighter than Dongju’s due to Geonhak’s sharp folds. The calamity smiled softly at his creation.

“Then?” Dongju prompted gently.

“Huh?” Geonhak said, “Oh, right. Well, as you can imagine, it didn’t work. At the time I blamed myself because I didn’t fold enough cranes. I mean, not just that, I wasn’t an idiot. I also blamed myself for not being nicer to my brother, not listening to him more, not letting him have the last bite of kimchi, basically everything.

“The house after my brother’s funeral felt itself like a funeral home. My mother drifted from room to room like a ghost and my father rarely spoke more than to ask how my grades were. My sister kept asking me when our brother was coming home. It was suffocating to be there. I spent a lot of my high school years trying to avoid going home as much as possible. When I graduated, I moved out for college. I thought being away from that environment would help.”

“For a while it did. I didn’t dread going back to my dorm room in the way that I dreaded going home. I made a couple friends even. I wasn’t super close to them, but it was nice to have evening plans that weren’t just going home and eating ramen while doing homework until I fell asleep.”

Dongju grimaced. That particular statement reminded him of the one year he’d lived in the dorms upon entering college. It had been the only year that he and Dongmyeong had lived in different units, though they were still in the same building. His first year of college had passed in a blur of stressful homework nights, cheap microwaveable meals, and occasionally making ill informed decisions at parties (or at least picking Dongmyeong up from making ill informed decisions at parties). He didn’t miss those times, and honestly having his own apartment with Dongmyeong had done wonders for Dongju’s healthy habits.

“It got to the point where I just didn’t want to go home at all,” Geonhak continued. “Not for birthdays, holidays, nothing. Every moment I had to force myself to spend at home was agony. I spent most of my time back there shut up in my room, and I only came out for the family dinners that were the most awkward meals in the city.”

“One of those days I just decided to head into my brother’s room and start going through his things to find… I don’t know. Just anything. My parents hadn’t even touched the place since his passing. It was then that I found all the cranes he and I had made in a box under his bed. My parents must have brought it back, but they clearly hadn’t opened it because I found a letter to me and one to my sister inside it. He’d written me one before he passed that I hadn’t known about for ten years because my parents couldn’t bear to go through any of his stuff.”

“I was… I don’t know know how I was. It was a lot of emotions all at once. I knew in my head that my parents were suffering as much as I was, but I couldn’t help but be angry that all this letter went undiscovered for so long just because no one in our family could figure out how to deal with our emotions properly. Then I wanted to talk to one of my parents about it, but I knew my mother would just start crying as soon as I brought my brother up, and my dad hadn’t offered me any useful advice in a decade. My sister probably would have been a little more understanding, but she’d been so young when he passed that she barely remembered him.”

“So I felt alone, with all these unresolved feelings threatening to burst out of me at any minute. I went for a walk outside. I walked and walked and walked until my feet started hurting and I was sure that they were starting to bleed through my socks. I could barely feel it at the time. It felt too much like I was falling apart along with everything around me. I couldn’t talk to my parents or sister, I couldn’t talk to my friends, and worst of all I couldn’t talk to my brother. I couldn’t even muster up enough energy to be mad about it.”

“It was then that I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and nearly broke my wrist on the ground. I decided to go back home. The sidewalk, I remember thinking, was a lot more broken up than I thought it had been.” Geonhak smiled wryly.

“I’ll spare you my whole existential crisis when I realized my parents couldn’t see me and how I nearly sunk our house into the ground walking around it after I figured out I’d become something…different. I ended up having to walk back to university since I couldn’t take any public transportation, and no one there could see me either. So I’ve been wandering ever since.”

He poked the paper crane with a finger, making it flop over. “I’ve had years to come to terms with the illness that took my brother’s life, but I’m still like this. I don’t know what to do anymore, and I’ve just accepted that I’ll be like this for the rest of my life.”

Dongju quietly absorbed all the information that Geonhak had told him. It had definitely been a lot to take in, and he was sure it had been difficult for the other to admit to such an intensely personal situation. He hated to admit it, but all of his words fell short of recognizing the gravity of what had happened to Geonhak.

“Thank you for telling me,” Dongju finally said. Geonhak nodded jerkily. “Have…have you ever visited your brother’s grave?”

Geonhak grimaced. “I’m worried about what my abilities would do to a graveyard.”

“Ah,” Dongju made a similar face. He hadn’t considered what Geonhak’s abilities would do to a place like a cemetery, but it was a shame that a man who clearly was searching for some kind of closure regarding his brother couldn’t even visit his brother’s final resting place. A thought struck Dongju then. “Well, you might be able to go now though.”

“What do you mean?” Geonhak asked.

“I mean, there’s snow on the ground,” Dongju said, gesturing around. “Didn’t you say your abilities weren’t a problem on snow?”

Geonhak’s eyes widened. “You’re right.” He looked down at the snow. “I could visit, I could…” He broke off, eyes conflicted.

“Do you want someone to go with you?” Dongju asked.

Geonhak tilted his head. “You would do that? It’s not exactly a close walk.”

“That’s fine,” Dongju said, “If you want company, I can give you some.”

Geonhak seemed to think over the offer for a minute. “If you want to… I would appreciate it.”

“Then I’ll make time,” Dongju said, smiling. “But I have another invitation for you as well.”

“What?”

“Are you busy this Christmas Eve?” Dongju asked.

“No,” Geonhak said, grinning. “I’ve already heard from Youngjo about the party. He was so proud of being the first one invited.”

“I’m sure he was,” Dongju said, rolling his eyes. Geonhak laughed at the younger’s expression.

“But yeah, I’d be happy to go,” Geonhak said.

“I haven’t even invited you yet,” Dongju huffed.

“But you were going to.”

“Arrogant, are we?”

“Confident,” Geonhak said, “There’s a difference.”

Dongju shook his head. “I’m considering retracting the offer.”

“You won’t.”

“I won’t,” Dongju agreed. “And maybe the day afterwards we can visit your brother.”

Geonhak paused. “I’d like that,” he finally said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dongju said, standing up from the bench and gathering up their trash. He heard a distant cheer, and when he glanced back at the slopes he could see the conveyor belt lift had started chugging upward once more. “Want to head back to the line?”

“Yeah,” Geonhak said, standing as well and grabbing the cloth strap from his tube. “Can’t wait to have you drag me around the hills again!”

Dongju made a face. “If I end up falling down the slopes because of you, I’m suing you.”

“People here can’t see me,” Geonhak said, grinning widely, “It’d just look like you fell down the hill being clumsy.” Dongju shook his head, though a smile was tugging at his own lips. Even though dragging Geonhak toward the conveyor belt was as much of a strain as Dongju remembered, he had never felt more happy to be unbalanced.

Armchair Destroyer

I can’t believe you STILL haven’t taken me on a friend date :////

That’s pretty pyrophobic of you

Me

Oh, have we not talked yet?

Armchair Destroyer

No!!!

Me

Bummer

Armchair Destroyer

Is this about the chair? I said I’d pay you back for it!

Me

And yet

Here I am

Still using a bean bag in place of an armchair

Armchair Destroyer

I’m sorry!

I’ll get you a new one soon!!

Me

My favorite armchair

Armchair Destroyer

://////////

Me

How bad do you want this friend date

Armchair Destroyer

Keonhee keeps bragging about his

And sending pictures of this big stuffed bunny

Me

How do you feel about movies and popcorn?

Armchair Destroyer

:))))))))

Me

I’m sending you the address. The movies start at 6pm.

Armchair Destroyer

Like tonight??

Me

What, do you have a life or something?

Armchair Destroyer

Maybe I do!

Me

…

Armchair Destroyer

…I’ll be there at 6

In all honesty, it had been difficult for Dongju to figure out what activity to do with Seoho. With the calamity’s fire abilities, most winter activities were out of the question. Dongju had no desire to stomp around in the mud and slush that would inevitably follow in Seoho’s path, so he’d eventually settled on a public movie showing that was taking place in the town park. It was out on the grass, and the public were encouraged to bring food, drinks and lots and lots of blankets as a Christmas movie marathon was projected on a large screen on one end of the park.

Dongju had gotten there thirty minutes early to stake out a good spot for his blanket. He’d also brought a couple bags of popcorn, thermoses full of hot chocolate and boxes of candy. There were stall vendors in the area as well, but Dongju was trying to save money as the last week of outings with the other calamities had left his bank account in a pretty sorry state.

That said, the atmosphere was lively despite the steadily dropping temperature as the evening went on. The sun had gone down hours ago, but the park was packed with families, groups of teenagers, young couples, and a considerable amount of college students who were also stuck in the area by the snow storm. Dongju waved to a group of people he vaguely recognized from his general communications elective as he spread out his blanket. He shivered slightly as a breeze blew through the area, and struggled to keep the corners of the cloth down, eventually having to resort to weighing down the edges with the extra blankets, candy and thermoses.

“And here I thought I was going to be early.”

Dongju looked up to see Seoho grinning down at him as Dongju starfished out over the blanket in an effort to flatten it out. He huffed in response. “Help me.”

Seoho gave a mock bow. “Your wish is my command.” Before laying down next to Dongju and allowing the younger to draw his limbs back in. Now closer, Dongju could feel the heat radiating off Seoho once more. Almost immediately the chill of the winter air vanished, and Dongju even felt like he was starting to sweat under his heavy padded coat. It felt like he was sitting next to a fireplace. Seoho grinned at the younger as he noticed the beads of perspiration starting to appear on Dongju’s forehead. Dongju frowned in return.

“Sorry,” Seoho said, not sounding sorry at all, “I can’t turn it off.”

“I know,” Dongju sighed, scooting slightly further away from the fire calamity. He grabbed a bag of popcorn and passed it to Seoho, startling slightly as he heard one of the still unpopped kernels burst as soon as Seoho’s fingertips came in contact with the bag.

“Thanks!” Seoho said cheerfully, ripping the bag open and beginning to shovel popcorn into his mouth. “So, what movies are we watching?”

“I think it’s starting with How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” Dongju said, brow scrunching as he tried to recall the list he’d read online, “And then Home Alone, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and it ends with Frosty the Snowman.”

“Fine by me,” Seoho said cheerfully. Dongju opened his own popcorn bag and started to eat his way through it as well. They spend a few moment simply watching all the other people around them as they ate through the bags. “Hey,” Seoho said, pointing at a couple, “What do you think the story is there?”

“What?” Dongju glanced at the people Seoho was pointing at. He could practically hear his mother saying that pointing was rude, but he guessed it wasn’t an issue since Seoho wasn’t visible to anyone else. As for the couple he was gesturing to, they looked completely normal to Dongju. The girl was curling up to the boy’s side and was giggling at something he’d said. “What do you mean?”

“Like, how do you think they met?”

“I don’t know,” Dongju said, baffled.

Seoho rolled his eyes as he tossed a piece of popcorn into the air and caught it in his mouth. “Boring,” he drew out the word, “Just make something up.”

“Oh,” Dongju glanced at the couple again. “I think they probably go to the college here.”

“Uh-huh,” Seoho said, sounding unimpressed.

“And, uh, the guy hasn’t told his parents about his girlfriend yet,” Dongju added, looking to Seoho for approval.

“A secret love affair,” Seoho raised an eyebrow, “Why wouldn’t he tell his parents?”

“He’s, uh, supposed to be dating someone else his parents picked out for him because he’s set in inherit a company,” Dongju said, gaining confidence with his own made up story, “He actually lied to them to stay on campus right now. They think he’s networking at a holiday party for rich kids.”

“Ooh, the scandal of it all,” Seoho laughed, “His future fiancee is actually at the holiday party.”

“She’s covering for him because she doesn’t want to get married to him either,” Dongju agreed. “She actually wants to study underwater basket weaving instead of becoming an expected housewife.”

“Good for her, fight the power,” Seoho said, giving a fist pump. Dongju laughed. “What about them?” He pointed to a group of teenagers fooling around on their own set of blankets, shoving at each other and laughing loudly enough to disturb everyone nearby.

“They came here to give a demonstration against something, but they forgot to make the signs in time,” Dongju said.

“Interesting,” Seoho raised an eyebrow, “What were they planning on protesting?”

“The commercialism of the holiday.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“But they realized halfway through buying all the protest equipment that they were still supporting commercial chains.”

“Ain’t that the way of things.”

“Also they just wanted to buy popcorn.”

“Same.”

“What about that couple?” Dongju asked, nodding toward an elderly couple sitting fifty feet away.

Seoho scanned over the couple before brightening. “The old man used to be a professor at the university, but he was quietly fired for his ethically dubious experiments.”

“A mad scientist?”

“No, he was totally sane,” Seoho said, “But he wanted to do the impossible…he tried to raise the dead!”

Dongju gasped dramatically. “No!”

“Yes,” Seoho continued gravely, “And he would have succeeded if the university’s exorcists hadn’t caught on. All his research was…buried!”

Dongju fell back against the blanket. “Oh my god, that was terrible,” he said, though he couldn’t help the giggles that escaped his mouth.

“I try,” Seoho said breezily. “Hey, what about-?”

The time before the movies started flew by as Dongju and Seoho both singled out people and made up stories on the spot for all of them. The grounds quickly filled up with undercover superheroes, torrid love affairs, secret gang members and even demons just looking to use up some vacation hours. Dongju found himself being actually disappointed when the first movie started.

Fortunately, Seoho didn’t take the start of The Grinch as an indication to stop talking, instead starting up an active commentary throughout the whole movie trying to get Dongju to laugh loud enough that people around them shot him questioning looks. Every time he was on the receiving end of an irritated shush Dongju would apologize profusely and swat subtly at Seoho, but he wouldn’t be able to help his laughs at the next joke Seoho cracked.

By the time the first movie ended, Dongju kicked at Seoho for making him apologize non less than five times over the course of a half hour. Seoho was undeterred, instead falling back into their earlier game of making up stories for the people around them. Dongju had rolled his eyes but played along as he unscrewed his thermos to down some hot chocolate.

Thankfully during the second movie Seoho was a little more subdued and Dongju didn’t get in any more trouble. He enjoyed Home Alone and even texted a picture of the screen to his brother. Dongmyeong had replied with a string of sad emojis before sending back a picture of the TV in their living room playing Die Hard. Dongju snickered as he shoved his phone back in his pocket and leaned back to watch the movie.

On the break between the second and third movie he got up to use the bathroom as this break was much longer. Many of the families with young children were heading home, leaving mostly young adults and elderly couples. When he returned from the bathroom he found Seoho people watching again.

“What do you think of her?” Seoho pointed to a young woman manning a popcorn booth currently handing a paper bag filled with popcorn to a teenager.

“She’s working to pay for Christmas presents,” Dongju said, “She wants to buy her little sister a new bike.”

“With rockets on the back?”

“With rockets on the back.”

“And him?” Seoho pointed to a man who was up near the projector, fiddling with the machine.

“He’s here because the guy who was actually supposed to be running the projector called off,” Dongju said, “He’s been projecting all the movies using his phone and a magnifying glass.”

Seoho laughed. The third movie started soon after. Rudolph had always been a classic in Dongju’s household. His mother told him that he and his brother used to be obsessed with the movie, even demanding to watch it in the summer. Dongju had some doubts about the veracity of her words, but their dad had backed her up. It was a pretty short movie, and Dongju saw some more of the crowd leaving afterwards. It was getting pretty late, and there was only one movie left.

“What’s his story?” Seoho pointed to a young man talking to the popcorn cart girl for far longer than it probably took someone to order a bag of popcorn. The girl was smiling.

“He’s liked her for a while,” Dongju said, “He waited all semester to confess, and now he’s finally worked up enough courage to admit…he loves rocket bikes.”

“She’s been asking him for recommendations?” Seoho laughed.

“He’s studying astrophysics,” Dongju agreed, laughing himself. As their laughter petered out, Seoho’s expression grew melancholy the longer he stared at the couple.

“What about this guy?” Seoho said, “What’s his story?”

Dongju followed Seoho’s finger to where it pointed to Seoho’s own face. He blinked. “What do you think his story is?” Dongju finally asked carefully.

Seoho gave Dongju a half smile, but it was bitter and full of regret. “He’s a hot head. He used to go to school here, twenty or so years ago. He’s not really sure how long, he’s lost track. On his final year of college he got into a fight with his best friend, his only real friend, and he yelled a lot of things he didn’t mean but couldn’t be taken back. It felt like a firestorm starting in his throat. It made his skin feel too tight, and he watched as all his words burned away ten years of friendship.”

“Do you think he could apologize?” Dongju said.

“It’s been over twenty years,” Seoho said. “His friend thinks he’s dead. His family does too. The last thing he said to his best friend was that he hated him and he never wanted to see his face again.”

Dongju picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Do you think his friend believed him?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Seoho asked.

Dongju tilted his head. “Every day I tell my brother that he’s annoying and I should have absorbed him in the womb and I wish we weren’t related.”

“But you’re joking,” Seoho said, “I wasn’t.”

“Even if I wasn’t,” Dongju said, “Even if I’d said those words out of anger, do you really think he would believe I meant them after twenty one years of being stuck together.”

“I… probably not?” Seoho said.

“Right,” Dongju nodded. “So this guy’s friend, do you think he really believed him?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because I think this guy’s full of shit,” Dongju said bluntly.

Seoho let out a startled bark of laughter. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” Dongju said, corners of his mouth curving upward. “I think he should get his head out of his ass and apologize instead of feeling sorry for himself.”

“And if his friend doesn’t accept his apology?” Seoho asked.

Dongju shrugged. “Then he did what needed to be done and at least has no more regrets.”

Seoho blew out a smoky breath, embers trailing upward. “I don’t know where he is now.”

“Don’t you guys have, like, unlimited time or whatever?” Dongju asked. “Do a Google search. I’m sure you still know about social media.”

“He can’t even see me if I do find him.”

“You still owe him an apology,” Dongju said.

“I…I do,” Seoho sighed. He pointed at Dongju with narrowed eyes. “This guy, he’s a brat.”

Dongju quirked an eyebrow. “But he’s also right.”

“He is,” Seoho said. He leaned back on his elbows. “Would he at least be willing to help the other guy stalk his friend on social media to try and find him again?”

“If he must,” Dongju said, with a huge put upon sigh. The final movie of the night started up and for a minute both of them just stared at the screen, lost in thought.

“Hey Dongju?” Seoho said. “I think the hothead’s gonna listen to the other guy’s advice.”

“Good,” Dongju said mildly before offering Seoho a small smile. “Hey, Seoho?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come to a Christmas Eve party?”

Seoho unexpectedly let out a groan. “Finally!” He whined, throwing his hands up, “I was about to think that you weren’t going to invite me at all!”

Dongju laughed, “I wouldn’t forget something like that.”

“Well, you sure took your sweet time!” Seoho pouted.

“And if you want,” Dongju continued, “We can go to Hallmark beforehand and get you one of those blank greeting cards so you can appropriately grovel and then mail it to your friend.”

Seoho grimaced. “I’m not looking forward to that.”

“It’s the time of year for reconciliation,” Dongju chided, “You might even be surprised.”

“Or I could not be.”

“It’s possible,” Dongju allowed, “But at least you won’t be burning yourself up inside anymore.”

Seoho’s nose wrinkled. “That was terrible.”

“If you wanted good puns, go buy a joke book,” Dongju said, turning back to the movie, “Now shut up and watch the snowman die.”

The rest of the evening passed with more light hearted comments about the movie and laughs as Seoho had an existential crisis over whether he was the natural enemy of Frosty the Snowman. It wasn’t a particularly noteworthy outing to anyone looking at them from a distance, but Dongju thought that it gave him a good story.

“They better not break our apartment, that’s all I’m saying,” Dongmyeong said for the fifth time that morning. Dongju barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Again. He settled for giving Dongmyeong, who was slouched in a crevice between the cushions on the couch, an unimpressed stare as he opened another box of tree decorating ornaments, before standing and heading back to the kitchen.

“We’re already not getting the deposit back,” Dongju said. He picked up a bowl of popcorn and another of chips that had been sitting on the counter.

“Yeah,” Dongmyeong agreed, “But that doesn’t mean I want to buy any more furniture or flooring. I don’t have money, Dongju, I’m a struggling musician.”

Dongju actually rolled his eyes that time as he set the snacks out on the coffee table in the living room. “Dongmyeong, we have plenty of money. We share a bank account, I know.”

“We should really tell our parents to separate our bank accounts,” Dongmyeong grumbled, “Just because we’re twins doesn’t mean we have to share anything.”

“While I agree with you on that,” Dongju said, “We’re just gonna have to work with it as is for now.”

“And you better pay back all that money you’ve been spending lately,” Dongmyeong said, “Your outings are doing a real number on our savings.”

“Don’t worry, I will once my job at the bookstore reopens,” Dongju said.

Dongmyeong huffed. “Anyway, when are all your friends getting here?”

Dongju checked his phone quickly. “They should be here in about half an hour.”

“Great,” Dongmyeong said, standing from the couch and stretching. “That’s enough time to use the bathroom, grab a snack and hide in my room for the rest of the day!”

“You know, you could also try and be social sometime,” Dongju said, raising an eyebrow.

Dongmyeong shook his head vehemently. “Nope. I already know all the people I ever want to know.”

“Really,” Dongju stated dryly, “Every single person.”

Dongmyeong frowned. “Well, I would like to meet a guitarist and a bass player for the band, but other than that I’m done meeting people for the rest of my life.”

“Mom would kick your ass if she heard you say that,” Dongju said, shaking his head.

“Well, Mom doesn’t have to know,” Dongmyeong said, “Anyway, you probably wouldn’t want me dragging down your little party anyway since I don’t know any of them. Actually,” he checked his phone, “I might just text the band to see if anyone’s up for dinner tonight.”

“Are you really going to ditch me?” Dongju asked, voice dangerously close to a whine.

“Weren’t you just the one saying I should be more social?” Dongmyeong asked. He turned to head back toward the bathroom, phone already in hand as the older presumably messaged his friends.

“Traitor,” Dongju called as Dongmyeong swung the door closed.

“Love you too, bro!” Dongmyeong yelled back, voice slightly muffled by wood.

Dongju muttered a few more curses under his breath as he started decorating the tree with a few circular ornaments, strands of tinsel and a few ceramic ornaments that he and his brother had picked up over the years. Dongmyeong’s favorite had always been one shaped like a keyboard while Dongju had always preferred one that looked like a spotted brown and white dog. A few minutes later Dongju re-emerged from the bathroom before hustling to his own room to pick up his coat and wallet.

“I’m out to that barbecue place a few blocks over,” Dongmyeong said, zipping up his jacket. “Don’t wait up!”

Dongju snorted. “If anything you’ll be back and falling asleep before the party’s over.”

“Yeah, yeah, be safe and make smart decisions,” Dongmyeong said, grabbing his keys from the dish on their coffee table before heading out their door. “Call me if something catches on fire!”

And with that, Dongmyeong was gone, leaving Dongju to put away all their ornament boxes by himself with only fifteen minutes left until the others were set to arrive. Dongju cursed as he quickly collected all the storage boxes and hurriedly shoved them in the hall closet before dashing to the bathroom to use the toilet and wash his hands before anyone got in.

He exited a few minutes later and did a final scan of the living room and kitchen, running through a mental checklist to make sure he’d set out everything that he meant to. Snacks on the coffee table, drinks in the fridge, presents under the newly decorated tree, movies laid out next to the TV, board games for when they got bored or drunk enough to play them… that should be everything, Dongju thought, nodding in approval. And not a moment too soon, as there was a series of rapid knocks on the door a minute later just as Dongju was straightening the pillows on the couch.

“Coming!” Dongju called, dropping the pillow back on the couch as he crossed to the door. He sucked in a breath to brace himself, wondering which calamity had made it there first and, if his phone was correct, five minutes early. “He-“

“HA, I WIN!” Youngjo declared, turning around laugh at someone further down the staircase.

“Only because you froze all the stairs!” Keonhee’s outraged voice yelled from further down. Dongju wondered if it was too early in the evening to get a headache. Well, at least part of his preparations had included setting out a bottle of pain killers in the bathroom.

“Hey, Dongju!” Youngjo said, beaming as he turned back around to face the younger.

“Hello,” Dongju said, backing away from the door. “Come in, you’re the first, I guess.”

“I sure am!” Youngjo laughed, stepping triumphantly through the threshold and toed off his shoes in the entryway.

Keonhee appeared in the hallway minutes later, coming up the staircase while clutching tightly to the bannister. “You’re a goddamn cheater!” His eyes were narrowed as they landed on Youngjo, but the tears along with the fact that Keonhee was clearly clinging to the railing for dear life made the whole appearance less threatening than the man had probably intended. 

“And what about it?” Youngjo arched an eyebrow arrogantly at Keonhee.

“Uh, can you unfreeze the stairs at least?” Dongju asked. He had an elderly neighbor down one floor and he had a horrifying mental image of her arriving home and then proceeding to break her hip in the staircase.

“Oh, yeah,” Youngjo said, snapping his fingers. There was a blast of cold air through the staircase. “Should be good now!”

“Thanks, I think,” Dongju said, as he gestured for Keonhee to come in as well. He handed a bucket by the door to Keonhee as he entered.

“Wha- oh,” Keonhee said, taking the bucket and holding it under his chin to catch all the tears. He looked around Dongju’s apartment as he stepped out of his shoes and closed the door behind him. “Your place looks nice!”

“Thanks,” Dongju said, “I spent last night and all morning decorating.”

“I like the tree,” Youngjo said, moving toward the sitting room to poke at the small Christmas tree. He touched one of the tree’s plastic branches, and it immediately frosted over. He quickly retracted his hand. “Uh, oops?”

“It’ll melt,” Dongju sighed, but he was still smiling.

Keonhee moved to sit in the armchair he’d been in last time near the window while Youngjo made a beeline toward the bean bag chair that had been placed where the other armchair had once sat. He had laughed when he saw it, but now sunk into it with a rude sounding squelch.

“Actually Youngjo,” Dongju said, picking up another wide and deep plastic tub he’d placed by the door, “Can I ask you to fill this up with snow? And I might need you to refill it periodically tonight.”

“Sure, but why?” Youngjo asked as Dongju brought the tub closer.

Youngjo reached out to grab the tub and placed it on the floor near the bean bag. He rolled his shoulders to pop his joints- both Keonhee and Dongju grimaced at that- before clapping his hands over the tub, sending a shower of snow cascading down as he parted his hands again.

“It’s actually for Geonhak,” Dongju explained as he watched Youngjo repeat the process a few more times.

“Really? Why?” The tub had reached about six inches of snow deep.

“That’s good,” Dongju said, removing the tub and placing it near the couch. “And it’s because-“

He was cut off by a few quick knocks on the door. “Oh sorry, let me grab that.” Youngjo waved him off and Dongju returned to the door.

“Hey, Dongju!” Hwanwoong said, waving. Dongju could hear pained grunting coming from the staircase behind Hwanwoong.

“Hi, Hwanwoong,” Dongju said, though he was glancing behind the other with concern.

“Oh, that’s just Seoho,” Hwanwoong said, without any concern, “He’s carrying Geonhak up.”

“Ah,” Dongju said, stepping back from the door to let Hwanwoong in. True to the wind calamity’s word, a huffing and puffing Seoho appeared over the stairs soon after with Geonhak draped over his back. Dongju couldn’t help the snicker he let out at the sight.

“Why are you so heavy?!” Seoho cried, face turning red in a way Dongju was certain wasn’t from the heat the other emanated.

“It’s all muscle,” Geonhak rumbled.

“Seoho, Geonhak, glad you two could make it,” Dongju greeted as the two stumbled through his doorway, “You can drop Geonhak over there.” He pointed to the couch where the bucket of snow sat.

Geonhak’s eyes lit up as he spotted the snow. “Oh, good idea!” He said cheerfully as Seoho deposited him heavily on the couch before collapsing on the other end of the couch himself, still wheezing dramatically.

“I’m still lost,” Youngjo said. Geohak straightened back up on the couch and swung his (bare, Dongju noted) feet around to drop into the bucket of snow.

“Woah!” Youngjo blurted.

“Don’t!” Keonhee yelled at the exact same time.

“It’s fine,” Geonhak said, wiggling his toes in the bucket. “My powers don’t affect snow.”

“Huh,” Youngjo said, eyes widening. He glanced back at Dongju, “How’d you figure that out?”

“We went tubing together,” Dongju said, as he moved to sit between Geonhak and Seoho. Hwanwoon moved to sprawl out on another beanbag placed by the coffee table in the sitting room near the tree. “He told me more about his ability there and why he was able to walk around on the snow.”

“At least your floors won’t take another beating,” Keonhee commented before tossing the water in his bucket out the window and replacing it in his lap.

“And now we’re all here!” Hwanwoong said, swinging the door shut and locking it.

“Yeah, so what’s the plan?” Youngjo asked, looking at Dongju expectantly.

“Uh, I’ve actually never hosted a party before,” Dongju admitted, pushing some hair out of his face sheepishly.

“What, really?” Seoho asked, straightening back up on the couch. “Aren’t you in college though?”

“I’ve been to parties,” Dongju said, “But that’s different.”

“It’s more than I did in college,” Hwanwoong said with a shrug.

“Dude,” Youngjo said, “Did you really never go to parties?”

“I was busy!”

Youngjo shook his head. “What about the rest of you?”

“A couple, but it was a while ago,” Geonhak said.

“I usually just stayed in,” Keonhee admitted.

“I went to parties, but I usually got too drunk to remember much of them,” Seoho said, not looking ashamed in the slightest.

Youngjo sighed. “Alright, well it looks like none of us know how to party.”

“You’ve really never been to one either?” Dongju asked skeptically.

“Do you really want to know how parties in the fifties went?” Youngjo asked.

“Point taken,” Dongju said. “Well, I have movies, board games, Switch games, a speaker system or I guess we could braid each other’s hair or something.”

“I don’t think any of us have enough hair to braid,” Hwanwoong said.

“Hey, where’s your brother?” Geonhak asked.

“Oh, he’s out eating with friends,” Dongju said, “Speaking of food, I thought we could order pizzas in an hour or so in case we get hungry.”

“We don’t need to eat,” Hwanwoong reminded him.

“Shhh!” Seoho hissed, leaning over Dongju to swat at him.

“And until then we could play Mario Kart or something,” Dongju suggested.

“Oh shit, I’ve always wanted to play that!” Youngjo said, getting up from the beanbag and moving to the couch as Dongju dug through the remote basket for the Switch controllers.

“We only have four,” he said as he handed one to Seoho, Hwanwoong, Geonhak and Youngjo.

“Loser of the stage gives up their controller,” Geonhak declared. There were murmurs of assent all around as Dongju set up his Switch.

“Bet you’ll fuck up pretty quickly, Youngjo,” Keonhee called as he dumped another bucket of water out the window. “Why don’t you just hand me your controller now?”

“Big words from a man who would cry regardless of whether he won or lost,” Youngjo said as the main menu screen popped up on the TV.

“Enough talking!” Seoho said, pulling up the character select screen. “Put your skills where your mouth is!”

And so as four of the calamities started scrolling through the character menu and Dongju plopped back on the bean bag that Youngjo had vacated to hassle them as they raced, he felt something close to happiness building in his chest.

They ended up playing for an hour and a half before putting in an order for pizza. While they waited Keonhee popped a movie into the television. It was some cheesy holiday movie that Dongju had already watched a dozen times, so he spent more time watching all the calamities watching the movie rather than watching the film itself. Some of them were watching it like they’d never seen it before, which Dongju guessed was possible since the movie had come out thirty years ago and some of them were definitely older than that. And anyway, it was entertaining to watch them gasp and laugh along as the movie went on.

Dongju paused the movie when the pizza arrived, but started it back up once he’d set it up on the coffee table. They ended up watching two holiday movies back to back, some of the calamities asking him questions about pop culture references that would appear in the movie. Dongju had to admit to not knowing some of them since the movie had come out nearly a decade before he was born and was also set in America, but the others all seemed to accept whatever answers he came up with. He was also glad his plan for Geonhak was working since his floors weren’t currently caving in. He kept a mental note to keep the bucket around and to remember to invite Youngjo every time the other came to visit.

At some point during the evening the others decided that they wanted to roast marshmallows even though that wasn’t necessarily a Christmas tradition. Unfortunately, Dongju’s apartment didn’t have a hearth in it, so they ended up sticking all the large marshmallows on fondue forks and then roasting them over Seoho. The fire calamity had screamed particularly loudly when Youngjo had ignored his marshmallow for long enough that it had melted off the fork and dripped onto the other’s hair. Dongju had never been so grateful that the calamities were inaudible to anyone else.

Despite all the yelling and chaos that ensued with almost any activity they chose to do over the course of the night, Dongju always found himself laughing by the end of it. He hadn’t known any of them for very long, but somehow it just felt like they fit into Dongju’s life almost seamlessly. Dongju was certain that this was the first time he’d had this much fun with another group of people, it was definitely better than all the college parties he’d spent sitting squashed in the corner of a random couch in a frat house or awkwardly tagging along to Dongmyeong’s band practices.

It was just as they started up a round of Monopoly (in retrospect that was probably not the best idea considering they were all the deadly combination of ‘extremely competitive’ and ‘bad at games’) that Dongmyeong arrived back home smelling faintly of barbecue with cheeks flushed pink from the cold outside.

“Oh, you guys are still here?” Dongmyeong asked, hanging his coat up on a hook near the door.

Dongju rolled his eyes. “If Mom heard you speaking to guests that way, she’d dangle you over the balcony.”

“Good thing she’s not here then,” Dongmyeong said, sticking out his tongue.

“Are you going to bed now?” Dongju asked.

“Probably in a little bit,” Dongmyeong said with a shrug.

“We can be quiet,” Keonhee said.

“No, we can’t,” Seoho muttered under his breath, only to be lightly smacked on the shoulder by Hwanwoong. “Ow! What? We can’t!”

“It’s fine, I can sleep through pretty much anything,” Dongmyeong said.

“It’s true, he can,” Dongju confirmed, “But we were probably going to wrap up soon anyway?”

“We were?” Youngjo asked, looking vaguely disappointed. The rest of the calamities all glanced around, also trading let down glances.

“Well, I mean after this game,” Dongju said, gesturing to the Monopoly board. He glanced at the clock on the wall to see it was already nearing midnight.

“Oh,” Keonhee said, clearly trying to keep his voice upbeat. “Right! We wouldn’t want to impose too late on you!”

Dongju glanced around the circle. “I mean… you’re all spending the night, right?”

Geonhak dropped the tiny metal top hat piece he’d been holding. “We are?”

“I mean, I expected you all would,” Dongju said uncertainly, “Since it’s a Christmas Eve party?”

“The best part of Christmas Eve is knowing you’re waking up to presents the next morning,” Dongmyeong added.

“Right…” Keonhee said. Dongju graciously didn’t comment on his the other’s voice sounded a lot more watery than usual and how the tears had started pouring out of his eyes even faster.

“We’d love to stay the night, if you’ll have us!” Seoho cut in. “And then we can play games all day tomorrow too!”

“That’s the plan,” Dongju said, “Unless any of you have something else you’d like to do?”

“Nah,” Youngjo said, almost as soon as the last word had left Dongju’s mouth. “I think we’d all rather be here.”

Christmas morning dawned lazily. Dongju blinked his eyes awake and his eyes were immediately assaulted by the bright morning light. He groaned and squeezed his eyes back shut before slowly opening them again. The room swam into focus, and Dongju abruptly realized from the ache in his lower back that he’d spend the night sleeping in a criminally thing sleeping bag on the living room rug. The rest of his friends (were they close enough now to be called that?) Were mostly sprawled around the living room.

Youngjo was squished with Geonhak on the couch, the latter’s feet dangling over the edge of the couch. Seoho was curled up in a ball in the bean bag chair next to the side table where the old armchair had been. Hwanwoong was snoring from the room’s one armchair (Dongju fuzzily recalled that Hwanwoong had won the spot after a very intense round of rock-paper-scissors. Dongju had a brief moment of panic after realizing he couldn’t find Keonhee, but then he recalled that the other had dragged an assortment of blankets of pillows back toward their bathroom to sleep in the bathtub.

“Izzit morning?” He heard Youngjo slur. He turned to see the other has started to stir on their couch.

“It’s…” Dongju checked his phone, “Nearly ten.”

“Ugh,” Geonhak groaned, “Too early. Sleep.”

“Nope!” Dongmyeong burst out of his room, waking up everyone in the living room. Dongju glared as best he could at his brother and the other’s stupid Christmas pajamas (yes, Dongju had a matching set, and yes he was wearing them, shut up). “It’s time for presents!”

“Oh, presents!” Keonhee stumbled out of the bathroom, bucket already clutched under his eyes, though it was already spilling a bit over the edges. “Oops.” He rushed to the window and tossed the water out.

“Presents!” Hwanwoong half-heartedly cheered.

“Mmmfrrgh,” Seoho said into the bean bag.

Eventually they all managed to huddle around the coffee table near the tree and started passing out presents. Dongju had never been the best at wrapping, so he’d just opted to pack everyone’s presents in gift bags rather than wrapping them properly.

He gotten Keonhee another stuffed rabbit, one in matching colors to the one he’d won at the fair they’d gone to. Hwanwoong received an ornament shaped like a folding fan with red poinsettias that Dongju had seen the other eyeing at the tree lighting festival. Geonhak got a stack of origami paper along with a book of instructions for how to fold different animals. Seoho got a fancy looking Moleskine journal with a note that read ‘so you can keep making up stories’, which made the other cackle. Finally, Youngjo received a snow globe with a single lamp post covered in snow stuck in the middle of it.

“It reminded me of when we met,” Dongju explained quietly as the others continued to exclaim over their gifts. He recalled the first time he’d met Youngjo, the other dusting snow off his hands as the lamp post behind him flickered like candlelight.

“Huh,” Youngjo said, a smile playing on his lips as he turned the snow globe upside down and watched all the white flakes swirl around the lamp post. The edges of the glass ball. frosted at his touch. “I like it.” He looked back up at Dongju, and just for an instant his icy blue eyes flickered to a warm, inviting brown. “Thanks, Dongju.”

Dongju blinked, wondering if the change had just been a trick of the light. “You’re welcome,” he managed.

“We actually all pitched in and got something for you,” Youngjo said. “Uh, who had the present again?”

“I did!” Keonhee said, turning to dig through his jacket pocket. “Merry Christmas!” He handed Dongju a small box, maybe the same size as a phone.

Dongju opened the box and blinked down at a gift card for a local furniture store. “Huh.”

“It’s to replace the chair we destroyed!” Seoho said cheerily.

“You destroyed,” Hwanwoong clarified.

“It was a group effort!” Seoho insisted.

“Anyway,” Geonhak cut in, “You can pick out any chair you want and we’ll cover it.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Keonhee agreed.

Dongju’s felt a grin break out over his face. “Thank you, all of you,” he said looking around at all the smiles around the room.

“Well,” Dongmyeong said, breaking the fuzzy silence. “I don’t know about all of you, but I’m starving. Who wants Christmas pancakes?”

“Ooh! Pancakes!” Seoho said, bouncing up from the bean bag.

“Good, you’re my assistant!” Dongmyeong declared, pointing at Seoho, who immediately blanched.

“Wait, I didn’t-“ He spun to look around at the rest of them helplessly. Dongju avoided his eyes, as did everyone else in the room. “You’re all traitors!” The fire calamity hissed.

Hwanwoong laughed. “Thank you for volunteering, Seoho!”

Seoho departed with a little more whining while the rest of them moved over to the TV to turn on another Christmas movie that they hadn’t gotten around to watching the night prior while flopping down on the couch or sleeping bags. As the room filled with the smell of cooking pancakes, bacon, sausage and hash browns, Dongju snuggled deeper under his blanket and reveled in the warmth that surrounded him and his friends in their little apartment, he recalled the incident that started it all, and the chance meeting that had resulted in one of the worst rainstorms in his town’s history. Now, though, Dongju felt like he had when he and his brother had made it home just in time before the rain started pouring, like he’d just come in from a storm.

[Epilogue]

Dongmyeong grimaced up at the stormy gray clouds overhead, wincing as another streak of lightning flashed across them. Though he supposed he should be happy that it was rain and not snow meaning he and Dongju could head back home soon, it was hard to be grateful when it looked like a bad storm was on the horizon. All of Dongju’s weird… friends had declared that none of them had caused it, which could only mean that this storm was completely natural or some other calamity had come to town. Dongmyeong could only hope that he and his brother could make it back home the next day before the storm got too bad.

He scurried across the square of the shopping district, feet glued to the ground as he headed back in the direction of his apartment. It was only the faint strains of guitar strings over the steadily increasing wind that made his head snap up from where it was locked on the cracks in the concrete.

His band needed a guitarist, god knew they did. A bass player as well, but it was hard for Dongmyeong to find anyone with a schedule open enough to join a little band with more passion than recognition and no label to speak of, even with a college campus as expansive as the one he attended. All the musicians on campus seemed to be bogged down with school performances and extracurriculars with no time to spare.

Dongmyeong turned to see a man around his age standing in the middle of the shopping district with a guitar in hand, slowly plucking out notes as shopper streamed around him, no one paying any mind. Curious, Dongmyeong moved to get closer and listen to the other’s song as he switched to something faster and angrier.

The wind picked up and Dongmyeong strained to hear the other’s music over the gales. He was skilled, Dongmyeong could see that just from the speed at which the other’s fingers flew over the fretboard, and Dongmyeong’s heart picked up at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he might be able to convince the other to join his band, or at least to check their practices out.

He got closer, wondering all the while why no one was stopping to listen to the man’s music. Dongmyeong blinked when the man finally looked up from his guitar to meet Dongmyeong’s eyes. The man’s eyes were a stormy gray, the same color as the clouds overhead, and Dongmyeong breathed in sharply as a flash of lightning sparked in the other’s irises. The man raised an eyebrow at Dongmyeong before strumming a loud chord. At the same time, the thunder rumbled in a pitch perfect imitation. Dongmyeong’s throat abruptly dried. This had to be another calamity, there was no other explanation for it.

He wondered if he should run screaming in the other direction. That would probably be the sensible, smart thing to do but… well, he’d never been known for being the reasonable one, and he wasn’t about to start now. He walked right up to the calamity(?) With a smile that his brother always referred to as his ‘infomercial smile’ and didn’t flinch even as another flash of lightning flashed across the guitarist’s widening eyes.

“Hello!” Dongmyeong said with a half wave. “Are you in a band?”