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The lobby of the church looks just as Minsoo remembered it looking on Christmas Eve: candles are lit, garlands are strung over the railings of the stairs, everything's lit in a warm, inviting glow, one that Minsoo is wary of now.
"Merry Christmas!" A greeter says to him, handing out a bulletin to him. "Everyone is welcome here, so please, come inside!"
Minsoo stares back at her — Mrs. Jeon, his old Sunday school teacher. He remembers her so clearly, and yet — he cannot spot any hint of remembrance in her eyes.
He breathes a sigh of relief, accepting the paper with shaking hands. He's wearing a mask, of course she won't remember. That's why he wore the mask, anyways: so that no one who recognizes him (and that, surely, is an easy task. He still looks like the person they would remember) and asks him what he did to his hair, asks why he had to dye it, cut it, because it was so pretty when it was long -
He breezes past her with a nod of his head, a softly murmured "Merry Christmas" lost in the noise of churchgoers talking with one another.
He does not think about how that invitation of being welcome is not really for everyone. He is not the kind of person that is welcome here.
Minsoo stands in the lobby of the church, bulletin in his hands, and for a moment, he feels like a lost child again. A child who comes here every Sunday and yet still cannot find their way through this building, and so he stares up at the lighting (he used to imagine these chandeliers were the lights of angels) and wonders where to go.
In front of him are the doors to the main seating of the sanctuary.
He does not go through them.
Instead, he turns to head up a flight of stairs — the balcony, the one place his parents refused to sit. They claimed it was too far away from God, but Minsoo knows why they didn't sit up here now. It was a status thing. They wanted to be seen sitting in their front-row pew every Sunday, perfect kids sitting next to them.
Minsoo chooses a seat removed from the rest up here. It's partly in the shadows, but that's fine for him.
No one should know he's here.
He hazards a glance over the balcony railing, and sure enough, he can see his parents in their pew, chatting with this evening's preacher.
Minsung's sitting with them. He's the son they asked for.
Minsoo leans back in his seat, tugging his hood up.
Why did he even come here?
I am a sinner.
If he runs now, no one will notice.
God will notice.
He does not belong here.
God will never love me.
His hands twist in his lap, and Minsoo stares up at the cross behind the altar.
He does not worship the same God these people do. Their God is an excuse for hatred, for gossip disguised as concern, for hurtful words hidden as being God's words.
Minsoo used to think his parents' God was a God of love.
Their God never was. His is.
His God loves, but in this place, his God gets overridden with the God his parents worship, and -
The lights dim.
The preacher takes the stage, and the lone light shining on stage — Minsoo can remember when it only shone on the cross when he was younger — illuminates him perfectly as he directs the congregation to rise and sing.
Minsoo stands. There are not many people on the balcony with him, and he does not wish to get to know them.
He stares at the congregation below him, and he hears the words they sing.
He does not belong here.
He hasn't belonged here for years.
The first song blends into the second, and the second is one that is all-too-familiar to Minsoo.
He remembers it so clearly — standing down in that sea of worshipers, shoulder bumping with Minsung's, head held high and full of thinly veiled pride. Dongho had given him a binder for Christmas, and Minsoo had worn it, then, hidden under a winter dress and a thick sweater. No one knew his secret. He had been happy.
He knows the words to these songs, had them practically drilled into his head every year until he was 18, and even then they never left him. He barely needs to think as he sings.
They're told to take their seats again, and now the speaker starts giving his sermon. It's the same as every Christmas Eve service, all about the birth of Christ and all the God=fearing magic of Christmas. Minsoo folds his hands in his lap, and stares down at his family.
Minsung is sitting straight up in the pew, hands scribbling notes on the back of his bulletin just like their mom told them to do. Minsoo slouches more in response.
God shouldn't care if he's slouching.
He wonders what his mom's church friends think of his parents' youngest child — a girl, just a year younger than Minsung, a girl who seemingly left the faith once she turned 18 and moved away from home. Last he heard, his mom was telling people she's moved to America and settled down with a good, God-fearing man.
Minsoo remembers that apparently, his mom is claiming he's got twins on the way. He tries not to laugh in the middle of a sermon.
He's had plenty of practice with Minsung — they used to kick each other's feet under the pews.
Minsoo's aware that this sermon isn't sticking in his brain. They never have, for him. The words his mom claimed to be from God did, though.
Her words are the reason why, when the speaker asks the congregation to bow their heads in prayer, Minsoo slips out of his chair. His knees hit the wood flooring and he bows, hands clasped over his head.
He is a sinner.
God, please forgive me. I do not belong here.
Minsoo finds himself sitting in a deserted sideyard of the church once the service is over. He can hear people inside, still talking loudly to each other over refreshments, and Minsoo remembers that that was his favorite part.
Plates of cookies and baked goods and warm drinks and everything a kid could dream of after being stuck in a stuffy church for an hour.
He does not dare step foot in that building, now.
He just knows that some part of his face still looks like that girl this congregation still gossips about, and he is afraid. He is an intruder here. He does not belong here.
And so he sits in this sideyard, December wind biting at his cheeks, and he remembers when he and Minsung used to sit out here with what seemed like a feast of pilfered goodies.
He does not expect the side door of the church to open.
He does not expect his brother to step outside, expression falling as he steps out of the church.
They lock eyes for a moment, and it is at that moment that Minsoo realizes his eyes are filled with tears.
Minsung does not seem to notice in the low light, but Minsoo sees the way he smiles.
"I didn't expect to see you here! Ah, don't worry about going inside to get anything, I've got extras of Mrs. Jung's cookies — those... those were your favorite, right?"
Minsoo stares at his brother.
He bursts into tears.
There is nothing but comfort in Minsung's voice as he pulls Minsoo into his arms, and yet Minsoo can do nothing but cry into the shoulder of Minsung's jacket. The material is rough, and Minsoo knows it's expensive, but he also knows that Minsung always has been and always will be stronger than him, so there is no use trying to escape his embrace.
Minsoo tries to make it clear that he does not belong here. He confesses everything to Minsung in choked-out sobs, and yet Minsung never pushes him away. He just stays there, a shoulder for Minsoo to cry on, and just keeps promising that no, he does belong here, that no, God still loves him.
It's clear there is no approach that will make Minsung leave until he's stopped crying. So Minsoo does his best to calm down, to think of anything other than this hateful church he had to grow up in, and Minsung's promises fall on deaf ears.
When Minsung does finally pull away, Minsoo is just barely sniffling, and he refuses to meet Minsung's eyes as his brother wipes the tears off his face. His mask is soaked. He will not take it off.
"...I missed you," Minsung says quietly, taking Minsoo's hands into his own. "I... I know Mom and Dad did too, and... if you wanted to say hello to them -"
"No."
"- they'd probably put it down to a Christmas miracle."
"I'm not stepping foot in that church again."
"Minsoo, please... you haven't come to Christmas Eve service in... god, you were 18 when you moved out... it's been 10 years, Minsoo..."
"It was a mistake coming here again," Minsoo says bluntly. "I will never belong in that church."
Minsung grasps his hands a bit tighter, clearly desperate. "Minsoo, I can ask them to come out here. You don't need to worry about anyone else, and they'll be happy that you're ba—"
"They don't want me," Minsoo cries. "They only want... they want her."
"You're still their child," Minsung shouts back. "Can't you just let them know you're alive??"
"No! They don't want me, God hates me, and I don't belong here!"
The dorm entryway is dark when Minsoo gets home.
He can still taste toffee and brown butter in his mouth, lingering memories of the cookies that Minsung insisted he take home with him.
He's no longer sure how he managed to convince himself that going would be a good idea.
His shoes — worn-out sneakers that he cannot afford to replace — hit the floor with a muffled thump as he toes them off into the messy pile of shoes at their entryway, and Minsoo makes no attempt to move after that.
It is dark, and it is late on Christmas Eve, and Minsoo is standing in the dorm entryway, a perfect picture of what defeat looks like.
Maybe that's why Dongho doesn't say a thing as he drifts in silently, nudging Minsoo's coat off his shoulders and carefully unhooking the mask from around Minsoo's ears.
He is quiet, long, silver-tipped hair pulled back with angel wing clips, and he's wearing a white sweater with a cut-out on the chest. Minsoo notes the red sweatpants, and it's only then that he realizes Dongho is still dressed for the Christmas photo MAYHEM took together.
But then he's brought back to the present by Dongho cupping his face, and Minsoo wants to cry again.
"Oh, Minsoo..."
It is silent.
Minsoo says nothing.
Neither of them moves for a moment longer, and then Dongho sighs, almost reluctant. "...we should go to bed."
Again, Minsoo says nothing.
He wants to move on. To forget. But his mind is stuck in that church, and he wants to get out, but he cannot.
Dongho picks him up, gently rubbing circles into his back as he takes him to their room.
Minsoo buries his face in Dongho's shoulder, breathing in the scent of pine, and he has never been so glad to smell pine.
He is safe here, he belongs here.
That is all he has ever wanted.