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The door to tangerine swung shut behind Nico, muffling the faint strains of a Christmas carol drifting from a nearby convenience store. He glanced at his phone before shoving it back into his pocket—Christmas Eve, and here he was, stepping into a bar alone. The contrast hit him immediately—inside the air was warm and alive with low laughter, muted conversations, and the faint thrum of bass. Strands of mixed red and green lights draped across the ceiling blinked lazily, casting shifting hues onto the worn wooden bar and scattered tables.
Nico exhaled slowly, adjusting his scarf as his eyes adjusted to the dim glow. The space was smaller than he’d imagined, almost intimate. It felt personal in a way he hadn’t expected, like a bar designed for regulars. He glanced around, searching for a familiar face, though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find one. Harua had insisted this place would be worth his while, but right now, all Nico felt was out of place.
He spotted the DJ booth tucked into a corner, bathed in soft neon light. The man behind the controls—tall, broad-shouldered, with his oreo-tinted hair tied back—moved with quiet focus. His hands slid over the equipment like a craftsman at work, turning knobs, sliding faders. There was something precise but unhurried in the way he adjusted the music. Nico lingered near the doorway, unsure whether to approach or retreat.
The track shifted. A faint melody began to pulse through the speakers, and Nico felt the slightest pull in his chest. It wasn’t loud, not like the music in the dance clubs he used to haunt back in Taipei. This was something different—subtle, layered. He caught himself nodding slightly to the rhythm, his body responding before his mind could catch up.
“Move or stay, but don’t block the door,” a voice cut through his thoughts. Nico startled slightly, realizing a group of patrons was trying to squeeze past him. He mumbled an apology, stepping further inside, his cheeks warming.
Nico found a seat at the bar, though he didn’t order anything. From here, he could see the DJ more clearly. The DJ wore a simple black hoodie, his sleeves pushed up to reveal lean forearms. He had a bottle of water resting beside him, untouched. Nico’s gaze lingered on the way his head tilted slightly as if he were listening for something only he could hear.
“For EJ,” the bartender murmured to a passing server, the name drifting past like a fleeting note in a melody. Nico caught it and tucked it away, letting it settle in the back of his mind.
Harua’s words from earlier this morning came back to him: EJ. Ask him for a song; he’s cool. You’ll know what to pick when you hear his set. Nico felt his stomach tighten. Cool wasn’t exactly how he’d describe himself right now. He hadn’t felt cool in months, trudging through the monotony of office work while avoiding his reflection in dance studio mirrors. Still, he’d come here, hadn’t he? For a moment of escape. For some sort of reprieve.
Before he could overthink it, Nico stood and made his way to the booth. The music shifted again as he approached, a seamless slide into a downbeat electronic remix of something vaguely familiar from the top 100. It wasn’t Christmas music exactly, but the bells woven into the track made it feel festive. He stopped a few feet away, uncertain of the etiquette. Was he supposed to wait for the DJ to notice him?
EJ glanced up, his gaze steady but not unkind. Up close, Nico noticed the slight curve of a smile tucked into one corner of his mouth. EJ raised an eyebrow in silent question.
Nico cleared his throat. “Hi, um. Could you—do you take requests?”
EJ leaned closer, just enough to catch Nico’s words over the music. “Depends,” he said, his voice gentle and even. “What do you have in mind?”
“Something dancey,” Nico said quickly. He shifted his weight, his fingers fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag. “But, like… Christmas? If that makes sense.”
EJ’s smile widened, just enough to soften the sharp lines of his face. “Dancey Christmas. Got it.” He turned back to his equipment, his fingers gliding over the controls with practiced ease. Moments later, the speakers filled with a bright, bouncy beat, a remix that wrapped the familiar melody of Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande, in sparkling synth and infectious energy. The rhythm was playful and flirtatious, each note teasing Nico into a grin he couldn’t hold back, his foot tapping to the shimmering pulse of the music.
He mouthed a quick “thanks” and stepped back, not wanting to intrude further. For the first time in weeks, his body felt light, his pulse syncing with the rhythm. He found himself tapping his foot, his fingers drumming absently against his side. As the track picked up, Nico closed his eyes for just a moment and let the music fill the space around him.
When he opened them again, EJ was watching him—not in a way that felt invasive, but with the quiet curiosity of someone who’d noticed something worth seeing. Nico’s heart stuttered, and he looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with the blinking lights strung across the room.
The track began to fade, transitioning into something slower, and Nico took that as his cue to retreat. He glanced back at the booth once before returning to his seat. EJ had already turned his attention back to the equipment, but Nico couldn’t shake the feeling of that brief, unexpected connection. He settled into his stool, the warmth from the music still buzzing faintly in his chest.
It was going to be a long night, but maybe not a bad one.
---
Nico didn’t remember standing up. One moment, he was sitting at the bar, letting the rhythm of EJ’s remix settle into his bones; the next, he found himself near the DJ booth again, drawn in by the music’s magnetic pull. He wasn’t sure why, but the layered beats carried him forward, each pulse teasing him to stay. He swayed slightly, testing the rhythm as if gauging the depth of a pool before diving in. It felt good—better than he expected.
EJ noticed him almost immediately. His eyes flicked up from the console, catching Nico mid-step. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind that didn’t ask questions but made Nico feel seen.
“You’re back,” EJ said, leaning toward him, his voice cutting easily through the soundscape. He motioned toward the edge of the booth, inviting Nico closer.
Nico hesitated, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. “Yeah, uh… the song’s good,” he said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to say thanks. For playing it.”
“Sure,” EJ replied easily, his tone casual but not dismissive. He adjusted the console with a small flick of his fingers before his gaze landed on Nico again. “Harua said he was sending someone over tonight.”
Nico blinked, caught off guard. “He mentioned me?”
EJ shrugged, his smile quirking slightly. “He said he’s got a friend—Nicholas—who might need good music more than company this Christmas. Figured that was you.”
“Just Nico is fine,” Nico said with a dry laugh, the sound almost self-deprecating. “Sad, isn’t it?”
EJ’s smile widened, softening the sharp lines of his face. “Sadder than DJ-ing on Christmas Eve?” he shot back, his tone light. “Not so sure about that.”
Nico chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing with the banter. “Fair point.”
EJ leaned back, his arms resting loosely on the edge of the booth, then tilted his head toward the bar. “Harua’s a regular. One of Taki’s favorites,” he said, nodding at the bartender wiping down glasses.
Nico followed the gesture, noticing the bartender’s nametag: Taki. He tucked the detail away, the connection clicking into place.
“That tracks,” Nico said, grinning now. “Harua talks about this place like it’s the best-kept secret in Tokyo.”
“Not exactly a secret, but we like keeping things small,” EJ replied, his tone easy. “Less chaos, more vibe.”
“Well, he was right about the music,” Nico said, gesturing toward the console. “It’s great.”
EJ tilted his head, a flicker of amusement in his expression. “Thanks. First time here?”
“Yeah,” Nico admitted. “I was… hesitant. I don’t really go out much these days.”
EJ nodded, his eyes scanning Nico’s face like he was piecing together a story without pressing for details. “Well, you picked a good night for it.”
Nico’s gaze shifted to the console. “The track you played earlier—that was yours?”
“Most of it,” EJ said, his voice taking on a subtle note of pride. “Baseline’s borrowed, but the layering and mix? All mine. I’m testing it out tonight.”
“It’s… impressive,” Nico said after a moment, the words sincere. “It’s got a good vibe.”
“Glad to hear it,” EJ replied, a satisfied edge to his tone. “You’re my first test audience, so no pressure or anything.”
Nico laughed, the sound lighter than he expected. “No pressure. Well, I approve, for what it’s worth.”
EJ’s smile lingered as he leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly. “And if you don’t approve, what happens then?”
Nico blinked, caught off guard by the playful question. “Uh… I guess I’d leave a bad Yelp review?”
EJ laughed, low and warm. “Fair enough. I’ll make sure to keep you happy, then.”
The track shifted, the tempo picking up slightly, and Nico felt his pulse sync with the beat. For the first time all night, he didn’t feel like a stranger. Something about the easy rhythm of EJ’s voice, the warmth of the music, made the weight in his chest lift, just a little.
“Well,” Nico said, stepping back slightly, his fingers brushing the strap of his bag. “If Harua drags me here again, I’ll know who to thank—or blame.”
EJ’s grin widened, his eyes bright under the booth’s dim light. “I’ll take it either way.”
Nico chuckled softly but didn’t respond right away. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze flicking briefly to the blinking lights strung across the ceiling. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, the sound barely audible over the music.
The track swirled softly around them, its shimmering beat weaving through the dimly lit bar like a shared secret. Nico leaned slightly closer to the booth, hesitating for a heartbeat before speaking. The barrier between them felt less like a wall and more like an invitation. “Thanks for this,” Nico said, his voice quieter now, almost tentative. He gestured vaguely toward the console. “It’s been a while since… well, since I’ve been anywhere like this.”
EJ glanced at him, his gaze steady but not pressing. “Since a good bar? Or since a good song?” he asked, the question carrying a faint teasing edge.
“Since feeling… okay,” Nico admitted after a beat, surprising even himself with the honesty. He smiled faintly, as if to soften the words, and looked away.
EJ didn’t reply right away. Instead, he reached for his water bottle again, unscrewing the cap in one smooth motion. When he spoke, his tone was thoughtful, quieter than before. “Music’s good for that. Letting things feel okay—even if just for a little while.”
Nico nodded, the weight in his chest easing just slightly. The music shifted again, softer now, like the first flakes of snow settling on an empty street. He glanced at EJ, who was watching him with an expression that seemed to say: Go ahead. Speak.
“So…” Nico started, shifting his weight. “How’d you end up here? DJ-ing at tangerine?”
EJ tilted his head slightly, considering the question as he twisted the cap back onto his water bottle. “Friend of mine owns the place,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the bar. “Fuma. He needed someone to keep the music going on holidays and weekends, so here I am. Filling in until I can figure out what’s next.”
“What’s next?” Nico asked, genuinely curious.
EJ shrugged, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—hope, maybe, or uncertainty. “Something bigger. Clubs, festivals, maybe even producing full-time. Who knows?” He paused, his smile quirking upward. “But for now, this works.”
Nico nodded, leaning slightly against the edge of the booth. “Harua didn’t mention you were, like, legit,” he said, the faintest hint of a grin pulling at his lips.
EJ laughed, a low, easy sound that seemed to settle into the rhythm of the music. “Legit might be overselling it,” he said, shaking his head. “But I do what I can.”
“Well, it’s working,” Nico said, his voice soft but sincere. He gestured around the bar. “The place has a vibe. And the music… it makes you forget stuff. In a good way.”
EJ’s gaze flicked to him, warm and intent. “That’s the goal,” he said. “Glad it’s hitting the mark.”
They lapsed into silence for a moment, the soft, shimmering melody filling the space between them. Nico glanced back toward the bar, where Taki was stacking glasses, his easy movements a reminder of how much life could flow when you weren’t overthinking it.
“So, you’re not from around here, right?” EJ asked, breaking the quiet.
Nico shook his head. “Taipei,” he said. “Moved here a few months ago for work.” He hesitated, then added, “Not exactly a dream job, but, you know… bills.”
EJ nodded, his expression thoughtful. “And Christmas in Tokyo? How’s that been?”
“Lonely,” Nico admitted, surprising himself with the bluntness of the word. He let out a soft laugh, as if to cover it up. “But tonight’s better. Way better.”
EJ’s smile returned, small but genuine. “Good,” he said simply.
The music shifted again, this time into something brighter, with a subtle, playful beat. EJ leaned toward the console, his fingers hovering over the controls. “You know,” he said, not looking up, “there’s a dance floor over there. You don’t have to just listen.”
Nico froze, a flush creeping up his neck. “Oh, no. I—I don’t—”
“You used to, though,” EJ interrupted, glancing at him now. There was no judgment in his tone, just quiet encouragement. “Right?”
Nico swallowed, his heart thudding. “I used to,” he said finally. “But it’s been a while.”
“Then maybe it’s time to start again,” EJ said, his voice low and even. He tilted his head toward the open space near the bar. “No one’s watching. Just you and the music.”
Nico hesitated, his feet rooted to the floor. But something about EJ’s steady gaze and the gentle push of the music around them made the idea feel less impossible.
---
The cold hit Nico’s face the moment he stepped onto the rooftop, the sharp bite of winter air sobering after the warmth of tangerine’s interior. He almost turned back, but the sound of muffled footsteps drew his gaze. Across the rooftop, near the edge, EJ sat perched on the low wall, his profile outlined by the faint glow of nearby buildings.
Nico hesitated, unsure if he was intruding. EJ had his back to him, one knee drawn up, the other leg swinging idly over the edge. A small box rested on his lap, and Nico frowned in confusion. It wasn’t a cigarette carton, as he’d assumed.
EJ turned slightly, catching the sound of the door creaking shut behind Nico. His expression didn’t register surprise—if anything, he seemed faintly amused.
“You following me?” EJ asked, holding up the box. “Or are you just here for the Pepero?”
Nico blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I thought you were… smoking or something.”
EJ smirked and tapped the box with two fingers. “Just sugar. Not as bad for the lungs.” He slid a stick out and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before adding, “Want one?”
The casual offer threw Nico, but he nodded, stepping closer. EJ held the box out, and Nico plucked a stick from it, his fingers brushing against EJ’s in the process. The faint warmth of the contact lingered, even as Nico focused on peeling the wrapper.
“It’s colder up here than I expected,” Nico said, partly to fill the silence. He glanced at EJ, who seemed entirely unfazed by the chill, unfazed by the chill, even though it looked like his hoodie would do little to block the wind.
“You get used to it,” EJ replied, taking another bite of his Pepero. “Besides, it’s quieter up here. Easier to think.”
Nico nodded, though he couldn’t quite imagine thinking clearly while shivering in the open air. He took a bite of the Pepero, the sweetness melting on his tongue. It was oddly comforting.
“What are you thinking about?” Nico asked, surprised by his own boldness.
EJ tilted his head, as if considering the question. “Mostly about how weird Christmas feels this year,” he said finally. “No family, no big dinners. Just… this.” He gestured vaguely at the skyline.
Nico chuckled softly, the sound dry. “Yeah. I get that.”
They fell into a companionable silence, broken only by the faint hum of the city below. Nico found himself watching EJ again, noticing the way his breath fogged the air or how his fingers absently tapped against his knee, keeping time with a rhythm only he could hear.
“What about you?” EJ asked, turning his gaze on Nico. “Why are you here? And don’t say ‘just for the music.’”
Nico hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “I guess I just… needed to get out,” he said eventually. “Everything’s been feeling heavy lately, and I thought maybe this would help.”
EJ nodded, as if he understood exactly what Nico meant. “Sometimes a change of scenery is all you need,” he said. “And a good song doesn’t hurt, either.”
Nico smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward despite himself. “You sound like you’ve got it all figured out.”
EJ laughed, a low, easy sound. “Not even close. But I’ve learned to fake it ‘til you make it.”
That earned a real laugh from Nico, and for a moment, the weight he carried felt lighter.
“Do you miss them?” Nico asked suddenly.
EJ blinked, caught off guard. “Who?”
“Your family.”
EJ exhaled slowly, his breath curling into the cold night air. “Yeah. Korea feels a long way from here,” he said, his voice quiet. “But honestly, I think what I miss the most isn’t them exactly—it’s the idea of them. The way things felt easier when I was a kid, like everything just worked, you know? Back when you didn’t realize how complicated it all really was.”
Nico nodded, his throat tight. He thought about his own family, about Taipei and the way his mother always left the lights on during the holidays, as if the house were waiting for him to come home.
“It gets lonely,” Nico said quietly. “Even when you try not to think about it.”
EJ glanced at him, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said. “It does.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence felt different this time—less like an absence and more like something shared.
EJ broke it first. “You know,” he said, holding up another Pepero stick, “this isn’t exactly a cure for loneliness, but it’s not bad.”
Nico smiled, taking the offered stick. “You’re not wrong.”
They ate in silence, the city sprawling out below them, and for the first time in months, Nico didn’t feel entirely alone.
EJ’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the faint murmur of the bar downstairs and a muffled voice filtering through the line as he answered. He glanced at Nico, his lips curling into a faint smile.
“I should get back,” EJ said, though he didn’t move right away. “I’ve got this folder of five tracks I prepped earlier—my official Pepero break playlist. Mixed it all in Ableton, so it should’ve been seamless, but judging by Taki’s panicked tone, track five’s already on.
Nico chuckled softly, holding onto the last bite of his Pepero like it was an anchor. “Yeah. I should probably get back too,” he said, though there was a touch of reluctance in his voice.
EJ smiled at him, slow and easy. “Next time you’re here, let me know. I’ll play you something good.”
Nico returned the smile, feeling it settle somewhere deep in his chest. “I’ll hold you to that.”
EJ stood, brushing crumbs from his lap before heading toward the door. Nico stayed behind for a moment, watching him go, the warmth of the rooftop encounter lingering long after EJ disappeared downstairs.
---
Nico lingered near the bar, his scarf wound loosely around his neck as he sipped the last of his water. tangerine was quieter now, the crowd thinning as the night edged closer to Christmas morning. He thought about leaving—he had his coat in hand—but something held him in place.
The music shifted. A soft, shimmering melody spilled through the speakers, its rhythm tender and deliberate, as though it was reaching out to the room itself. Nico turned instinctively toward the DJ booth, and there was EJ, his head tilted as he adjusted the track. Their eyes met across the room, and EJ’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile.
Nico took a steadying breath and approached the booth, the soft thud of his boots lost under the hum of the music. EJ noticed him coming, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.
“Back again?” EJ teased, leaning casually against the console.
Nico hesitated but returned the smile. “I thought I’d say goodbye. I didn’t want to leave without thanking you.”
“For what?” EJ asked, his tone light but his gaze steady.
Nico shifted, his fingers brushing the edge of the booth. “For the music. For… tonight, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve felt…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.
“Like yourself?” EJ offered gently.
Nico blinked, startled by the accuracy of the guess. He nodded. “Yeah. Something like that.”
EJ’s smile softened, and he glanced down at the console, his fingers brushing over a button. “You’re welcome, then,” he said. “Though you’re the one who decided to show up.”
Nico chuckled. “Harua might’ve had something to do with that.”
EJ tilted his head, considering. “Still. You could’ve left after one drink or stayed at the bar. But you didn’t.”
There was something in his tone—light, playful, but with an undercurrent of sincerity—that made Nico’s chest tighten. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I guess I didn’t want to.”
EJ looked at him for a long moment, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Finally, he straightened and reached for a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap but not drinking from it. “You’re heading home, then?”
“I think so,” Nico said. “I’ve got a long day tomorrow. Well, technically, today.” He gestured vaguely toward the clock on the wall.
EJ grinned. “Christmas plans?”
Nico shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Not really. Just me, some work, and a microwave dinner, probably.”
EJ made a soft sound of disapproval, setting the water bottle down. “Doesn’t sound very festive.”
“Well, I left my holiday spirit somewhere between Taipei and here,” Nico said, only half-joking. “Guess I didn’t pack it in my carry-on.”
EJ’s gaze lingered, thoughtful but unreadable, before he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the edge of the console. The movement closed some of the space between them. “Maybe you didn’t need to bring it,” he said. “Maybe it’s something you find. Or make.”
Nico let the words settle, his fingers brushing absently against the edge of the booth. The distance between them felt smaller now, though neither of them moved further. “That sounds… easier said than done,” he murmured, his voice quieter this time.
EJ tilted his head, his tone softening. “It is. But you don’t have to do it alone.”
The words hung there, tentative but certain, like a bridge waiting to be crossed. Nico hesitated, the tightness in his chest easing just enough to let him meet EJ’s gaze. For a moment, he thought about reaching out—his hand shifting just slightly before stilling on the edge of the booth. The silence between them wasn’t empty; it carried something fragile, but undeniably real.
The track shifted again, the melody brightening as if echoing the conversation. EJ glanced at the console, his hand hovering over a dial. “One more?” he asked, his tone light again. “For the road?”
Nico smiled, his heart unexpectedly light. “Sure,” he said. “One more.”
EJ queued up a track, and the speakers filled with an upbeat rhythm that felt like the beginning of something—a promise, maybe.
DJ, play a Christmas song
I wanna be dancing all night long
It's cold outside, but it's warm in here
And that's the only thing I want this year
DJ, play a Christmas song
I wanna be dancing all night long
It's tough outside, but it's love in here
And that's the only thing I want this year
Nico let himself sway to the music, his hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them, EJ was watching him, his expression softer now, less guarded.
As the track reached its first drop, Nico felt a surge of courage. “Hey,” he said, stepping closer to the booth. “If I came back here sometime… would you play me another song?”
EJ’s smile widened, slow and deliberate. “You’d have to ask,” he said. “But yeah. I think I could do that.”
Nico laughed, the sound light and easy. “I’ll hold you to it.”
The music swelled, filling the room as the red and green lights flickered overhead. Nico felt the weight of the night—the homesickness, the loneliness—begin to fade, replaced by something quieter, steadier.
“I should go,” Nico said finally, though the words felt reluctant.
EJ nodded, stepping back from the console. “Merry Christmas, Nico.”
Nico smiled, the words settling warm in his chest. “Merry Christmas, EJ.”
As Nico turned to leave, the music followed him to the door, wrapping around him like a second coat. He stepped outside into the cold, his breath visible in the air, but for the first time in months, he didn’t feel alone.
Behind him, through the frosted glass, the music continued to play.