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Seoul and Ansan were similar in the way New York City and Jersey City were similar in that they were close enough to share weather, train lines, and had a steady flow of people who grew up in the smaller city and moved to the larger one for work. Yeonjun never thought of Ansan as a small town the way some of his Seoul-raised coworkers did, but it was quieter.
He hadn’t been back since he’d moved to Seoul for university. Not for any particular reason; he was just always busy. Besides, his family usually made the drive up to the city instead. But this year, his mum gently reminded him that his grandmother was getting too old and too tired to travel, so if he could come home, he should.
He’d promised he would visit for Chuseok – really promised – but then he’d landed a last-minute casting that whisked him off to Shanghai over the holiday. His family had understood, of course. That somehow made the guilt worse.
Which was why he was here now, in December, riding all the way to one of the last stops on Line 4 for the first time in over five years.
Stepping out of Exit 2, the sight of his hometown was less jarring than he had expected. The air quality was just as questionable as Seoul’s, and the streets were still lively in that familiar, lived-in way. It felt the same and different all at once, like someone had paused his childhood and pressed play again the moment he came back.
He dragged his slightly broken suitcase onto the main road and decided, immediately and without guilt, that he deserved a vanilla latte – even if it was already 5:30 p.m. The small cafe in front of him had gone all-in on Christmas. The window featured a tree that was big enough to be seen from the street, there was gold tinsel wrapped around every railing, and inside was a playlist that seemed legally restricted to Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe and EXO’s First Snow on rotation.
Inside, the warmth hit him instantly. He ordered his latte and settled into a corner to wait, scrolling through messages he’d ignored on the train. The cafe was busy enough that it took a while, but Yeonjun didn’t mind; he hadn’t stood still all day.
“Order five-three-!” someone called from behind the counter.
Yeonjun frowned. Five-three-one? Or did they say five-three-two? He shoved his phone into his pocket, squeezed past a couple with matching scarves, and reached the counter. A lone vanilla latte sat waiting. Good enough.
Just as he wrapped his fingers around it, a soft “Ahem…” sounded behind him.
He turned to see a tall man wearing round glasses and a startled expression. “Sorry,” the stranger said gently, “but I think that’s my coffee.”
“Oh!” Yeonjun’s stomach dropped. “Right – sorry, sorry. Here, you take it—”
He moved to pass the cup back, but in the awkward shuffle of arms, suitcase, and general exhaustion, his grip slipped.
The cup tumbled.
And the entire vanilla latte crashed straight onto the stranger’s chest.
“Fuck! Oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry.” Yeonjun instinctively reached out, hands sweeping over the man’s chest in a frantic attempt to wipe the latte away.
He immediately felt firm muscle beneath the soaked fabric – real, defined pecs that flexed under his palms – and Yeonjun jerked his hands back like he’d touched a hot stove. Great. Fantastic. Now he looked like an idiot and a pervert.
His face burned even hotter when he actually got a proper look at the stranger.
“It’s okay, Yeonjun. Don’t worry about it.”
The voice was soft – gentle, even – but everything else about him was… not. He was taller than Yeonjun by at least a few centimetres, broad-shouldered, clearly built underneath the now-saturated button-up that clung to the ridges of his stomach. His lips were full, pink from the cold, and—
Wait. Did he just say Yeonjun?
“I—do you—do we know each other?” Yeonjun stammered, throat suddenly dry.
Maybe the guy recognised him from modelling. He didn’t have superstar status or anything, but with nearly half a million followers on Instagram, it happened occasionally—usually at bars, rarely in cafes, though, never like this.
But the man simply smiled, stepped aside, and gestured toward the pick-up counter – where Yeonjun’s actual coffee was sitting untouched.
“It’s me,” he said, still soft-spoken. “Choi Soobin. We grew up on the same street.”
Yeonjun grabbed his real latte and bowed repeatedly to the poor cafe worker who had just witnessed the entire disaster. His brain, meanwhile, was trying and failing to reboot.
Soobin? Choi Soobin?
That couldn’t be right.
The Soobin he remembered had been a shorter, nerdy kid with oversized glasses and a backpack full of manga books. He used to trail behind Yeonjun after school like a shy little shadow, turning bright red whenever Yeonjun so much as said hello.
The irony of their roles reversing hit him all at once. “Soobin,” Yeonjun repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “I remember. Wow… you really grew up, huh?”
A dimple appeared on Soobin’s cheek at that, deepening his smile. “So did you. Your mum wouldn’t stop talking about how excited she was. It must feel weird to be back.”
Yeonjun huffed a small laugh. “Sorta. Do you still live in Ansan?”
“No, I’m just here for the holidays too,” Soobin said, brushing a bit of dried latte from his shirt like it would fix the almost certainly permanent stain. “Did you drive down?”
“Subway,” Yeonjun replied. “It was so strange catching it all the way here.”
Soobin nodded toward the battered suitcase at Yeonjun’s feet. “Well, you’ve got luggage. Let me drive you to your mum’s place – I’m assuming that’s where you’re staying.”
“Oh—no, no, it’s fine, I’ll just grab a cab. Seriously, don’t worry about it. I already ruined your shirt.”
“I’m staying with my parents too,” Soobin said, tone still gentle but firm enough to leave no room for argument. “So it’s not out of the way or anything.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled.
“I insist.”
Yeonjun really couldn’t argue anymore. So after Soobin received his replacement coffee from the staff, he simply watched as the man grabbed his battered suitcase with one hand and nodded for him to follow. Yeonjun trailed behind him awkwardly, as though he’d forgotten how his legs worked.
Soobin’s car smelled distinctly of bergamot – probably his cologne, Yeonjun guessed. It suited him.
Soobin drove the way attractive men in dramas always drove, like he knew exactly how good he looked doing it. One hand on the wheel, the other braced casually on the centre console, posture relaxed and confident.
Yeonjun tried very hard not to stare.
“So, uh… what do you do for work?” he asked before his brain could stop him.
Immediately, he cringed. Why are you acting like this is some first meeting? Get a grip, you stupid idiot.
“I’m a graphic designer,” Soobin replied, completely unfazed.
“Oh, that suits you.” Yeonjun nodded too quickly. “I, um, do modelling.”
“I know.” Soobin’s mouth tugged into a small smile. “I actually worked on a campaign you did for us last year. I handled the design – obviously”
Then, after a tiny beat, he added, “Modelling suits you as well.”
Yeonjun blinked. “Oh—wait, really? What company do you work for?”
“Benefit, at the moment,” Soobin said. “I got into cosmetics because it was the first place that hired me out of college. I meant to transition into something else eventually, but…” His shoulders lifted in a soft shrug. “I ended up liking it more than I expected.”
“That’s cool,” Yeonjun said, hoping he sounded normal.
Soobin kept his eyes on the road, but the arm resting on the centre console shifted restlessly –his fingers tapping, stretching, and flexing against the latch. Yeonjun’s gaze drifted to them, grateful for something safe to focus on. Anything to stop himself from staring at the sharp line of Soobin’s jaw or the way the passing streetlights carved soft shadows across his cheekbones.
Before he could spiral further, Soobin slowed the car.
“We’re here,” he said gently. “Do you want me to help you carry your bag to the door?”
“No!” Yeonjun blurted, way too fast. “I mean—no, it’s fine. You’ve already done so much for me. I can do it myself.”
Soobin looked amused, but he didn’t push. He simply nodded, the corners of his mouth soft. “Alright. Have a good night, Yeonjun.”
“You too,” Yeonjun said, grabbing his suitcase and nearly tripping over the kerb in his rush to escape before embarrassing himself further.
He gave Soobin one last flustered bow, then turned toward the familiar gate of his childhood home. The outside light flicked on as he approached, and he raised his hand to knock – heart still thudding for reasons he absolutely refused to examine.
His mum threw her arms around him the second he stepped through the door. It was a full-body hug, one that almost squeezed the life out of him, followed by a rapid-fire barrage of questions that he had no hope of answering.
“Was the trip alright? Aren’t you cold? Are you hungry? You look thinner – are you eating properly? Have you been resting? Whose car was that outside?”
“Hello to you too, Mum,” Yeonjun said, laughing into her shoulder. “I missed you as well.”
“Then you should visit home more often,” she scolded lightly, swatting his arm before peering out the door again. “Now tell me – who dropped you off?”
“Oh – ah, you remember Choi Soobin? I ran into him at the station. He offered me a lift.”
“Soobin!” she brightened instantly. “Yes, he’s been in town for a bit. And goodness, he looks so different now, doesn’t he? I still talk to his family all the time. His mother always brags about how tall and handsome he’s gotten, but when I finally saw him, I thought, wow, she wasn’t exaggerating!”
Yeonjun could only nod, cheeks warming a little too quickly. “I’m, uh… going to take my bag upstairs and grab a shower, if that’s okay. Then I’ll come help with dinner.”
“No, no, you relax,” she said, shooing him toward the stairs. “You came all this way. I’ll call you when everything’s ready.”
Yeonjun smiled gratefully, picked up his suitcase, and headed upstairs. His childhood bedroom looked exactly the way it had the day he left for college. The bed still wore the same checkered blue sheets, his desk was cluttered with LPs from the 2010s, and a cheesy little LA snow globe his cousin had once gifted him sat in the corner, gathering dust.
Maybe he was a bad son for not visiting more often.
He sank onto the edge of the bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers scattered across the ceiling. A small, wistful smile tugged at his lips. He wondered absentmindedly if Soobin’s room was still filled with anime figurines and posters of artists that he liked.
🎄⛄❄️🎅
Yeonjun’s mum owned a small cafe near the main university in town. During the colder months, it wasn’t very busy since midterms were over and most students were heading home soon. People only occasionally came in for hot drinks and a quiet place to procrastinate. Yeonjun dropped by just to keep her company while she reorganised stock and deep-cleaned the shelves.
He tried to help, but every time he reached for a cloth or a box of supplies, his mum swatted his hand away with a microfibre cloth. “Sit! Talk to me! What are you, a guest or an employee?” she scolded. So he surrendered, planted himself on a chair behind the counter, and showed her photos from his last shoot.
He was in the middle of explaining how uncomfortable one of the outfits had been when the bell above the door chimed, and two customers stepped inside, bundled in winter coats.
“Soobin! Sooyeong!” his mum called out warmly. Yeonjun’s head snapped up in surprise.
Soobin was already looking at him, a small smile forming the moment their eyes met. Beside him, his older sister burst into a bright grin as soon as she recognised Yeonjun.
“Oh my god. Yeonjun!” she gasped, stepping closer like she needed a better look. “You’re so handsome. And look at those legs! No wonder he became a model in Seoul, right?” she added, not-so-subtly nudging her brother.
Soobin looked like he was trying very hard not to react, and Yeonjun suddenly wished the floor would swallow him whole. His mum, meanwhile, beamed with pride.
“He gets it from me,” she teased, but Yeonjun agreed. She really was beautiful, even now, with flour on her cheeks and her hair piled up messily like it always had been when she was working.
Without asking, his mum wandered behind the counter and began preparing two drinks. Regulars. Yeonjun wasn’t surprised; Soobin and his sister had practically grown up in this cafe too.
The siblings shed their coats and sat at the table closest to the counter, clearly comfortable here. Soobin tugged gently at his wool scarf, already looking toward Yeonjun again.
“Can you serve them their drinks?” his mum said, already halfway into the kitchen. “I’m just gonna grab them a cake slice each.”
Yeonjun nodded. He carried the drinks over, the mugs warming his palms, and set them carefully on the table. He was about to retreat to the safety behind the counter when Sooyeong spoke up.
“Sit, sit, Yeonjun! We need to catch up!”
He hesitated for half a second, glancing at Soobin. The last time they’d seen each other was the coffee incident, and that memory still lingered like the stain that was probably still on the shirt. But Soobin’s expression was warm, half shy and half amused, like there was nothing to worry about. So Yeonjun sat, folding himself neatly into the chair beside them.
“You guys must be happy to have Soobin home,” Yeonjun said, being polite, defaulting to safe topics.
“Nah,” Sooyeong laughed. “He’s in Ansan so much, sometimes it’s like he still lives here. The guest room in my house is basically just his room at this point.”
Soobin shrugged. “I miss my nephews when I’m in Seoul for too long.”
Of course he did. Even as a kid, Soobin was the type who looked after others before himself. Yeonjun remembered him showing up late to school because he spent his morning helping an injured stray cat near the train station. Eventually, the plates were reduced to crumbs and streaks of cream. Sooyeong checked the time and groaned.
“We should go – Mum’s probably waiting for me to pick up the boys,” she said, pushing her chair back.
Soobin stood too, slipping into his coat. “Thanks for the cake, Auntie. As always.”
Yeonjun’s mum patted his arm like she was shooing a child. “Next time, don’t wait so long to show your face. You and Yeonjun are hopeless”
“We do seem to be alike,” he deadpanned, and she laughed.
They all moved toward the door, Sooyeong waving cheerfully at Yeonjun. “Welcome home, by the way! We should all catch up soon.”
Before Yeonjun could reply, she stepped outside, letting the cold air rush in. The door swung partway shut behind her, but Soobin lingered—half in, half out, breath fogging lightly.
He looked at Yeonjun, then at the floor, then back again. “Hey… since we’re both here for a bit,” he started, slowly, “do you… want to hang out? Like – not with my sister. Just us. If you’re free.”
Seeing Soobin stumble over his words made Yeonjun see the shadows of his younger self reflected in his now-adult body.
“Oh,” Yeonjun said, blinking. “Yeah. Sure. That’d be cool.”
Soobin nodded once, then pulled out his phone. “Then – um. Can I get your number? Since… we never. You know. Had it.”
“Right,” Yeonjun muttered, suddenly aware of how warm his ears felt. “Yeah. Of course.”
He entered his contact, and then drop-called himself so he could save Soobins later. He was acutely aware of how close their hands came as he passed the phone back. Soobin glanced at the screen, then slipped the phone into his pocket like it might escape.
“I’ll text you,” he said. “So we can pick a day. While we’re still both here.”
“Okay,” Yeonjun replied, trying not to smile like an idiot.
Soobin returned the smile anyway, shy and crooked. “Good. Then – see you soon.”
He bowed slightly and walked out, nearly hitting the doorframe on his way. The bell jingled behind him as he left, and Yeonjun turned to see his mum looking at him incredulously.
“Did he just ask you on a date?” she said, eyes wide.
“Mum!” Yeonjun hissed.
“What! He used to be obsessed with you when you were younger. A mother can tell these things.”
“Yeah, that’s just because he admired me. That doesn’t mean – he isn’t – It’s not like that.”
Right?
Later that night, Yeonjun lay on his childhood bed, the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling looking far too judgmental for his liking. His brain, however, refused to stop spiralling.
He’s just being friendly because we grew up together.
But we weren’t even that close…
Maybe he just doesn’t have many friends in Seoul?
Or maybe Mum’s right. He did sound nervous when he asked for my number…
But if he’s interested, wouldn’t he have texted by now?
Wait. Should I be texting him first?
He groaned loudly and flopped onto his stomach, burying his burning face into his pillow.
Ugh. This is so complicated.
Stupid, pretty Soobin.
🎄⛄❄️🎅
The next day was Yeonjun’s obligatory family tour. He visited his cousin and aunt, played tug-of-war with their overly energetic dog, got kissed on both cheeks by his grandmother, and nodded his way through stories he’d already heard a hundred times.
Every time his phone buzzed, his heart jumped. He snatched it up so quickly that his relatives began giving him puzzled looks. His mum noticed too – each time, her eyebrows lifted a little higher – but, mercifully, she kept quiet around the family. Only when they were leaving his grandmother’s house did she mutter, barely concealing a smirk, “It’s not healthy to check your phone that much, you know.”
He ignored her.
By the time he got home that night, still with no word from Soobin, his nerves were stretched thin. He paced the length of his childhood room twice before dropping into his desk chair like he’d been defeated in battle. He stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars, looking for wisdom they clearly didn’t have.
Before he could stop himself, he hit call on his best friend's number.
The phone barely rang once before Beomgyu picked up.
“I need your advice,” Yeonjun blurted.
“Yes, I’m great, Yeonjun, thanks for asking,” Beomgyu replied dryly. “Go ahead.”
Yeonjun flopped back in his chair. “So, when I was a kid, there was this guy I never really paid attention to. But we were neighbours and stuff, right?”
Beomgyu made a noncommittal hum. “Okay.”
“Anyway,” Yeonjun continued, rubbing his forehead as if that might help, “I ran into him my first day back, and he turned into seriously the hottest man alive, Beomgyu. Like, you don’t even understand. He’s all toned and tall, and he’s really soft-spoken, so it’s like—ugh.”
“Hometown eye candy,” Beomgyu declared. “We love.”
“No, we don’t love.” Yeonjun sat upright, gesticulating even though Beomgyu couldn’t see it. “See, I spilled coffee all over him and embarrassed myself, right? He said it was fine and everything. But then I saw him a few days afte,r and he asked for my number and said we should catch up while I’m in town.”
He paused, waiting for the reaction he expected – something supportive, something helpful.
“So your issue,” Beomgyu said instead, “is that you went home and your dream man asked you out? They have a name for that, you know. Champagne problems.”
Yeonjun shot up from his chair and paced again. “No, no, you’re not understanding. He hasn’t texted me since he asked for my number. Should I be texting him?”
On the other end of the line, Beomgyu sighed like he was a doctor breaking bad news.
“Yes. Text him. Obviously.”
“But what if—”
“Nope,” Beomgyu cut him off. “We are not overthinking this. You like him. He asked for your number. You text him.”
Yeonjun stopped pacing. His heart hammered at his ribs, stubborn and dramatic. “Okay. Fine. I’m doing it.”
He sat on the edge of his bed, pulled up his messages, and his stomach dropped.
soobin
hii, it’s soobin let me know when you’re free :)
“Oh my god.” Yeonjun slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, oh my god.”
“What? Did he send you a death threat? A picture of a foot? What?”
“He texted me already!” Yeonjun nearly shrieked. “Eleven hours ago!”
There was a beat of silence, and then Beomgyu laughed so loudly it crackled through the speaker.
“You absolute clown.”
“What do I do?! He’s gonna think I ignored him on purpose! He’s going to think I’m uninterested! He’s going to think I’m playing hard to get even though I’m very much soft to get—”
“Take a breath,” Beomgyu interrupted. “We can still salvage this. Text him back right now and say you were out with family. Easy.”
Yeonjun swallowed hard. “Okay. What exactly do I say?”
“Okay, type this: Sorry for the late reply! I was out with family today. I’m free tomorrow if you want to do something?”
Yeonjun typed it, then stared at it, terrified.“It sounds too eager. I sound too eager.”
“You spilled boiling milk on his abs, Yeonjun. You’ve passed the point of shame. Send it.”
Before he could panic further, Yeonjun hit send.
The message barely left the screen before the little typing bubble popped up.
soobin
that sounds great. I’m free after lunch :) just let me know what time works for youuu
“He replied,” Yeonjun whispered, frozen.
“That was fast,” Beomgyu said. “He’s into you.”
“He’s not into me.”
“He’s into you.”
“He could just be—”
“He’s into you. I have to go now. I have an early shoot in the morning. Text me everything tomorrow.”
“Beomgy—”
click
The line disconnected.
Yeonjun stared at his phone, at the smiley face Soobin had used.
He pressed the phone to his chest, rolled onto his back, and let out a muffled scream into his blanket.
🎄⛄❄️🎅
He and Soobin had decided on dinner the next night, and both Beomgyu and Yeonjun’s mother immediately insisted it was a date. Yeonjun pretended not to agree, mostly to protect his own sanity. Still, he couldn’t ignore the flutter low in his stomach, conveniently the exact feeling he got before a first date.
He spent the entire day a little giddy, walking around the house with an extra bounce in his step that even his mum noticed.
“You’re awfully cheerful,” she commented while slicing spring onions behind the counter.
“I’m just… happy to be home,” he lied, but he could feel the corners of his lips betraying him.
He started his getting-ready process three hours before Soobin was due to pick him up. Not because he was desperate (absolutely not) but because it took time to run through his twelve-step skincare routine. And pick an outfit that toed the line between effortless and gorgeous.
He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his shirt buttons for the fifth time. Then the sixth.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, and adjusted them a seventh time just in case.
He sprayed two mists of cologne, then a third because what if Soobin leaned close and didn’t smell anything? That would be humiliating. He checked his hair from every angle. He tried smiling at himself. He tried not smiling because he didn’t want to look like someone who smiled at themselves in the mirror.
When he finally sat on the edge of his bed, ready and presentable, almost the entire three hours had passed. Meaning he had only ten minutes to sit with his own thoughts.
He was halfway through picking at a particularly stubborn hangnail when he heard voices drifting up the stairwell – Soobin’s deep, polite tone, and his mum’s enthusiastic chatter in return.
He took a slow breath, smoothed his hair one last time, and headed down the stairs.
Soobin stood by the shoe cabinet, hands tucked behind him in that timid way he never quite grew out of. He turned at the sound of Yeonjun’s steps and paused mid-sentence, like he forgot what to say for a moment. His eyes swept over Yeonjun’s outfit once, then flicked away a little too fast.
Yeonjun felt a stupid warmth curl at the base of his neck. Soobin was dressed in a similar outfit to the one he wore when they met in the coffee shop a few nights ago. It was almost annoying how incredible he looked in something as simple as a button-up shirt and dress pants.
“I, uh—my mum made some side dishes,” Soobin said, lifting a small reusable bag as if he’d just remembered it existed. “She wanted to give them to your mum. She said she hasn’t seen her in a while.”
Yeonjun’s mum beamed like she was about to adopt him on the spot. “Tell her I’ll call soon! And thank you. You two go, go—have fun! Don’t worry about bringing him back too late. He’s an adult.” She waved them toward the door with a little too much excitement.
“Mum,” Yeonjun muttered under his breath, embarrassed, but Soobin just laughed as they slipped on their shoes.
Outside, the cool night air brushed against Yeonjun’s skin, grounding him. He wasn’t prepared, though, for the way Soobin rounded the front of the car and pulled open the passenger door.
Yeonjun hesitated only a second before getting in. His heart slammed around like a child at a trampoline park.
Once they were both buckled, Soobin cleared his throat softly, eyes flicking toward him then back to the road. “There’s this steakhouse. My sister keeps nagging me to try it, so I figured… if you wanted to, we could go there?”
“It sounds perfect,” Yeonjun replied. He tried to be casual, but his voice had a brightness he couldn’t hide.
The steakhouse smelled like warm wood and garlic butter. It reminded Yeonjun of a place that he frequented a lot back in Seoul. A few tables were occupied, but the place was mellow.
Soobin led Yeonjun to a corner table by the window. Yeonjun tried to slide into his seat with casual grace and almost tripped straight through it, catching himself just in time.
“So,” Soobin said, opening his menu with the ease of someone who wasn’t fighting gravity or social anxiety, “do you ever miss Ansan while you’re living your glamorous Seoul life?”
Yeonjun took a sip of water too fast, coughed, nearly choked, then pretended everything was normal. “Uh… not really. I miss my family sometimes, but it’s not like it’s that far.”
Soobin’s lips curled into a small, dimpled smile. It was annoyingly soft. “True. I think everyone knew you’d be the most successful from your year, anyway.”
Heat crawled into Yeonjun’s cheeks. He pretended to study the menu as if his life depended on it, flipping a page he’d already looked at three times. “So… did you go to college here? Or did you move straight to Seoul?”
Soobin shrugged, trying to make it sound casual, though something tight flickered in his expression. “I went to college in Seoul. I didn’t—um—really have that many friends in school. Figured a fresh start would be nice.”
“Oh… right.” Yeonjun nodded too quickly. “Of course.”
Halfway through a perfectly cooked ribeye, Yeonjun reached for his water and knocked the salt shaker over. It clattered loudly across the table. He swore under his breath, cheeks burning, and Soobin reached to steady it at the same time. Their fingers brushed, light friction and heat, and neither moved right away.
“Were you always this clumsy?” Soobin asked, voice soft and amused. “I feel like that was always more my thing.”
Yeonjun opened his mouth to defend himself, but Soobin’s phone buzzed against the table. He checked it and frowned.
“Sorry – it’s my sister.”
“It’s okay,” Yeonjun said, relief and dread mixing in his gut. He wasn’t sure which he wanted: for the moment to end or for it to keep going.
Soobin answered. “Hey, Sooyeong? …What? Okay, I can come. No, it’s fine. Yeah. Love you too.”
He hung up, face apologetic. “My brother-in-law burned his hand. They need to go to the ER. She’s asking if I can watch my nephews.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. You should go. Family’s important.”
“Well…” Soobin scratched his cheek awkwardly. “She asked if we could… both come. If you’re comfortable with that.”
Yeonjun blinked, then nodded too fast again. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds fun.”
They boxed up their food and headed out.
Soobin’s sister’s apartment was cozy chaos by the time they arrived, with the smell of something burnt lingering faintly in the air. The door barely opened before two tiny boys launched themselves at Soobin.
“UNCLE SOOBIN!” the older one shrieked. “DADDY’S HAND IS FALLING OFF!”
“No, it is not,” said the brother-in-law, wincing while still managing a polite bow. “Thank you both. Sorry to ruin your dinner.”
“It’s fine,” Yeonjun replied, genuinely meaning it. “Go get your hand checked.”
The couple left in a rush, and the apartment immediately felt louder without them.
A small voice piped up beside Yeonjun. “Who you?”
The toddler stared up at him like he was an alien creature.
“This is my friend, Yeonjun,” Soobin said.
The older boy ignored the introduction entirely and marched up to Yeonjun with the authority of a miniature CEO. “Do you like superheroes?”
Yeonjun straightened instinctively, as though he needed to pass a test. “Uh… yeah. Sure. I like Superman.” (He liked looking at Superman, but that seemed irrelevant.)
“Me too!” the boy said proudly. “Don’t you think Uncle Soobin looks like Superman? Like when he’s pretending not to be Superman?”
Yeonjun glanced at Soobin – glasses, business casual, gentle shoulders, soft-spoken demeanour – and yeah. He kinda did look like Clark Kent.
“Mr Yeonjun?”
The older nephew continued, clutching a plastic action figure, brows knit like he was about to ask the most serious question in the world.
“Mm?” Yeonjun answered, trying not to look directly at Soobin – who was currently wrangling the younger toddler into pyjamas.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Yeonjun blinked. “Uh… no. I don’t.”
The boy nodded thoughtfully, then pointed at Soobin with the same confidence people used to start witch hunts in the Middle Ages.
“Uncle Soobin does.”
Yeonjun’s stomach dropped so fast it left him feeling hollow. Heat prickled at the back of his neck, but he forced a tight smile. “Oh… does he?”
“Yep.” The boy was fully invested now, waving the action figure like a microphone. “He and Mum always talk about his noona. Apparently, she’s pretty like Superman’s girlfriend.”
Yeonjun swallowed. The sick feeling rose higher, warm and embarrassing. “That’s… nice.”
It came out strained, and even the four-year-old seemed unconvinced. Yeonjun stared at the pile of toy blocks across the room like they might rescue him, or maybe knock him out if one was thrown at his head. Either worked.
Soobin must have noticed, because after tucking the toddler into bed, he walked over, brows furrowed slightly. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah,” Yeonjun lied, stretching a smile too wide. “Just tired. Long day.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course,” Soobin said softly, though he didn’t sound convinced.
Yeonjun didn’t offer anything else. For the rest of the night, he barely said ten words. just nodded, forced a polite smile, and held onto a quiet hope that no one could hear how loud his heartbeat suddenly felt.
🎄⛄❄️🎅
The nightlife in Ansan was always a little underwhelming, and Yeonjun really wasn’t in the mood to run into someone from high school every three minutes, so he’d taken the trip out to Suwon to drink alone. Beomgyu had strongly advised him against solo drinking on the night before Christmas Eve, but Yeonjun couldn’t imagine doing anything else. He downed his third vodka Red Bull and reread Soobin’s messages for what felt like the hundredth time.
soobin
i had so much fun tonight! sorry the dinner got interrupted.
my nephews really like you though
soobin
hey do you wanna grab a coffee tomorrow?
soobin
i can come to your mums cafe if that's where youre gonna be :3
soobin
you okay?
soobin
did i do something :(
soobin
your mum said youre not feeling well! i hope you get better soon
soobin
text me when you get the chance :)
A small pang of guilt thudded in his chest. Ghosting someone for a week wasn’t exactly mature. But the humiliation still burned hot enough to make his stomach twist. Soobin probably thought he was clingy. Desperate.
“Can I get another Red Bull vodka?” Yeonjun asked the bartender, his voice a bit too steady to match the spinning in his head. Maybe if he blacked out, he could stop replaying every clumsy, stupid thing he’d said around Soobin.
“Make that two,” a voice chimed in beside him.
Yeonjun turned to see a stranger sliding into the barstool next to him. He was handsome and had a welcoming smile. He wasn’t Soobin-level pretty, but he was charming enough to distract him for the night.
“You know,” the man said, propping his elbow on the counter, “you really shouldn’t be mixing Red Bull and vodka. The stimulant effect of the caffeine masks how drunk you are. Pretty dangerous.”
“Oh yeah?” Yeonjun said flatly. “Then why’d you order one?”
“So I'd have an excuse to talk to you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Hanbin.”
“Yeonjun.”
Hanbin looked him up and down, pleasantly bold. “Is it too forward if I say you’re gorgeous?”
“Not too forward to tell me the truth,” Yeonjun replied, lips curving into a lazy smile.
Two drinks later, and they were lost in the crowd on the dance floor, bodies close, bass shaking through their ribs. Hanbin’s hands rested around Yeonjun’s waist, and Yeonjun leaned into him with the warmth of a man who’d decided temporary distractions were his new coping mechanism. Hanbin said something into his ear, but Yeonjun barely heard it over the music. He just laughed, loud and unbothered, letting himself get pulled into the lights and noise.
When Hanbin leaned in again, he dropped his voice low, asking, “Want to go somewhere quieter? Maybe my place?” Yeonjun’s answer wasn’t quite words, just a sloppy grin followed by:
“Sure, Soobin.”
“…Soobin?” Hanbin repeated.
Yeonjun blinked up at him. “That’s your name. Soobin.”
“No,” Hanbin said carefully, giggling, “it’s really not.”
Yeonjun frowned like Hanbin was the one being ridiculous. “Well, maybe you changed it.”
That was when Hanbin seemed to realise just how drunk he was.
“Okay,” Hanbin sighed, guiding him off the dance floor by the waist, “we’re gonna sit down, pretty boy.”
Yeonjun slumped into a booth, eyes half-lidded as Hanbin handed him water. He stared at the cup as if it had personally offended him.
“Why is this not vodka?” he mumbled.
“Because I’m not trying to go to prison for murder,” Hanbin muttered.
Yeonjun’s face drooped into his sleeve. “Do you think Soobin hates me? He has a girlfriend. Superman girlfriend. I’m… stupid.” His words slurred together until they barely had shape.
Hanbin stared as if he’d just been handed an emotional bomb. “…Okay. Give me your phone.”
Yeonjun passed it over without hesitation, as if it didn’t matter what was on it. Hanbin scrolled, winced sympathetically at something, and then put the phone to his ear.
“Hey. No, I’m, uh… a friend. Your – Yeonjun is pretty drunk. If I text you the address, can you come pick him up?”
By the time Hanbin hung up, Yeonjun had slumped sideways against the booth. He tried to lift his head, but gravity clearly hated him. When he finally managed to look up, Soobin was suddenly there in front of him. Glasses slightly fogged from the cold, hair pushed back, and wearing a worried frown.
“Whoa,” Yeonjun croaked. “You can teleport?”
Soobin closed his eyes like he was physically restraining a laugh, biting his cheek until a dimple threatened to betray him. He turned to Hanbin and bowed politely. “Thank you for calling. Really.”
Hanbin nodded. “Yeah. He kept calling me you. Figured that was a bad sign.”
Soobin helped Yeonjun stand, slinging an arm around him. Yeonjun leaned heavily into his shoulder like a sleepy sloth.
“I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbled.
Soobin adjusted his grip and sighed. “Please try to do it before we reach my car.”
The cold slapped Yeonjun awake as soon as they stepped outside. The wind had sharp, freezing, vicious teeth and the snow that had been “light flurries” a few hours ago was now an outright blizzard, whipping across the street in thick white sheets.
Soobin half-guided, half-dragged him to the car. Yeonjun fumbled with the seatbelt for way too long before Soobin leaned over to buckle it for him. Their faces got close – close enough for Yeonjun to see the tiny frost crystals clinging to Soobin’s eyelashes.
“You smell… like pine,” Yeonjun muttered.
“That’s… great,” Soobin replied gently. “Please don’t vomit.”
The car crept forward onto the street, wheels grinding through snow. The windows fogged instantly; Soobin had to keep wiping them with his palm while trying to drive with one hand. His jaw was tense, brows knit, eyes flicking from the road to the closed-off signs ahead.
The first major road was blocked with flashing hazard cones.
“No problem,” Soobin murmured, turning left.
The second road was worse – police tape strung across the entrance and two officers waving cars back.
Soobin gripped the wheel tighter. “Okay. Fine. We’ll go the long way.”
They tried the long way. And the long way was also barricaded, wind blasting so hard the sign swung dangerously.
Soobin inhaled sharply through his nose. “Are you kidding me? It’s Christmas Eve Eve. It’s not the apocalypse.”
“It might be,” Yeonjun mumbled, forehead pressed against the cold window. “Maybe Santa’s dead.”
Soobin stared at him. “Please stop talking.”
After another ten minutes of blocked roads and aggressive snowflakes hitting the windshield like thrown rice, Soobin finally cursed under his breath and pulled into an empty convenience store parking lot.
“We’re stuck,” he said simply, shoulders dropping.
Yeonjun blinked slowly. “Are we gonna die?”
“No. We just... need to find somewhere to sleep before we skid into a ditch.”
“A ditch,” Yeonjun repeated dramatically. “I don’t want to die ugly. I still have skin care at home.”
Soobin rubbed his temples like he regretted all of his life choices. “I just looked it up, and Naver Maps says there's a motel like 3 minutes from here. We can wait out the storm until morning.”
“So… we’re having a sleepover?” Yeonjun whispered.
“Sure,” Soobin said in a blase manner, already putting the motel into the navigation. “It’s a sleepover”
Yeonjun smiled into his collar. “Sleepover.”
Soobin closed his eyes. “Please save your voice for when I inevitably have to beg the receptionist to let me drag you into a motel room at 1 am.”
The motel Soobin found was… pink. Pink neon hearts, velvet curtains, a giant sign offering “rates for as short as 3 hours”. Even in his haze, Yeonjun blinked at the window display of discounted massages and chocolate syrups.
Inside, the receptionist looked them over — from Yeonjun, swaying slightly with ruffled hair and eyes that refused to stay open, to Soobin, gripping his elbow like he was a flight risk.
Soobin cleared his throat. “Hi. Do you have any… double rooms?”
The woman raised an eyebrow, typing slowly. “No double rooms,” she said, tone thick with judgment. “Only king beds.”
Soobin’s neck went stiff. “Right. Yes. I understand.” He sighed through his nose. “We’ll take a king.”
Yeonjun gave a vague cheer. “King! For royalty. That’s us.”
Soobin’s smile was more pain than amusement. He signed the form, bowed awkwardly, and practically hauled Yeonjun toward the lift.
The room was warm and ridiculously romantic. It was filled with red lighting, rose-printed wallpaper, and tissues arranged like origami swans. The bed looked like it could fit at least three people.
“The universe is bullying me,” Soobin muttered.
Yeonjun flopped face-first onto the mattress with a dramatic groan. “So comfy. I looove being rich.”
“You didn't even pay for this,” Soobin said, already digging through the mini-bar. He found a bottle of water, cracked it open, and knelt beside the bed.
“Drink.”
Yeonjun turned his head just enough to eye him suspiciously. “Are you drugging me?”
“I would have to be insane to try,” Soobin said very calmly. “Drink. Now.”
Yeonjun opened his mouth obediently, letting Soobin press the bottle to his lips. Water dribbled down his chin, soaking the pillow, but Soobin didn’t complain. He just kept holding the bottle until Yeonjun finished half of it.
“Good,” Soobin said, like he was talking to a stubborn houseplant. “You’re going to thank me tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Yeonjun mumbled, burrowing deeper into the pillows, “I’m gonna marry you.”
Soobin raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Mhm.” Yeonjun blinked up at him lazily. “Did you know you’re, like… stupid pretty? It actually makes me angry. Why the hell do you look like that?”
Soobin’s cheeks turned a soft pink. Windburn maybe? “Are you worried I’m going to become a model and steal all your jobs?”
“No,” Yeonjun slurred without hesitation. “I’m pretty too.”
Soobin bit back a smile. “Fair enough. Do you want anything to eat? I think I saw ramen in the lobby.”
“Not unless you wanna clean up my vomit,” Yeonjun muttered, letting his eyes slide shut again.
Soobin opened his mouth, maybe to argue, but before a single word left him, Yeonjun was gone. Out. Asleep before his lashes even finished falling against his cheeks.
🎄⛄❄️🎅
Yeonjun woke to the heavy smell of cheap air freshener and the distant hum of a vending machine through the wall. His skull throbbed. For a moment, he had no idea where he was until he turned his head and saw Soobin asleep beside him.
Soobin was on his stomach, one arm folded under the pillow, lips parted, a line of drool sliding toward the heart-patterned pillowcase. His glasses were folded neatly on the bedside table next to a bottle of water that Yeonjun definitely didn’t remember drinking.
And suddenly everything hit him like a car skidding on ice. The bar. Hanbin. The phone call. The motel. The marriage comment.
Yeonjun shot upright too fast. A stab of pain ripped through his head, and he swallowed a curse.
The movement stirred Soobin awake. He blinked blearily, hair sticking up on one side, voice deep and raspy with sleep. “Mmn… morning. Head okay? Drink the water. All of it.”
Yeonjun fumbled for it obediently. “Thanks. For… um. Picking me up. And… everything, I guess.”
“No worries.” Soobin’s voice was gentle, still rough. Then he hesitated, eyes focusing properly for the first time. “Hey. Did I… do something? Last week. Before this. You’ve been kind of… gone.”
Panic seized Yeonjun’s chest. He shook his head too fast, regretting it instantly. “No! No, nothing like that. I was just… tired. And sick, kind of. It wasn’t you.”
Soobin looked at him for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it go. “Alright… if you say so.”
He reached for his phone on the bedside table, squinting at the screen.
“Looks like the roads are open again.” He stifled a yawn. “We should… shower, get ready, and then I’ll drive you home.”
Yeonjun nodded, throat tight, wishing he could evaporate into the motel comforter and never be perceived again.
The heater blasted weakly against the cold as Soobin drove, his glasses fogging every time he breathed too close to the vents. Outside, snowbanks glittered under the pale morning sun, but inside the car, it felt strangely quiet, like neither of them wanted to poke the silence too hard.
Yeonjun sipped from yet another bottle of water Soobin had insisted on, cradling it between his palms. His head still throbbed faintly, though the embarrassment beat louder.
“So,” Soobin said, eyes on the road, voice too casual to actually be casual, “when do you head back to Seoul?”
Yeonjun cleared his throat. “The day after Christmas.”
“Oh.” Soobin nodded slowly, fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “Right. That’s… soon.”
“Yeah.” The word came out small.
A minute passed. Two. An Ariana Grande song was softly playing through the Bluetooth. Soobin tapped his thumb against the wheel like he was hyping himself up for something, then finally spoke.
“Do you…” He shifted, pretending to adjust his seating. “Would you wanna maybe go to the Heart Village light festival tomorrow night? If you’re not busy, that is.”
Yeonjun blinked, caught off guard. “I’m doing lunch with my family, but otherwise I’m free.”
“Cool.” Soobin nodded too fast, then slowed down to nod again, like he needed to edit the first nod. “Yeah. Cool. It’ll be fun. There’s, um – lights. And food. And… stuff.”
“Sounds nice,” Yeonjun said quietly.
🎄⛄❄️🎅
Yeonjun’s mother was absolutely convinced this was a date. He hadn’t even bothered telling Beomgyu – he knew his best friend would parrot the same spiel his mother had gone on.
“I think he just wants friends,” Yeonjun said, rolling his eyes.
“Honey,” his mother said, wagging a finger, “he’s taking you out on Christmas Day. That’s not exactly friendly.”
“He has a girlfriend,” Yeonjun muttered, more defensively than he intended.
His mother laughed, loud and incredulous. “Surely you don’t actually believe that.”
“His nephew said so.”
“The four-year-old? Oh, a perfectly reliable source, I’m sure,” she teased, smirking.
Yeonjun groaned, sinking further into his chair. “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I just like to tease my son when he’s flustered. Makes up for the fact that he’s grown into such a handsome idiot.”
Yeonjun buried his face in his hands. “Mum.”
His mum had spent the entire Christmas lunch loudly announcing to the family that Yeonjun had a “date” with Soobin that night, much to Yeonjun’s embarrassment and protests. His cousin giggled and remarked that she had always hoped they would end up together, and his grandmother added with a warm smile that she hoped Soobin would treat him well and make him happy.
This time, Yeonjun spent far less time getting ready. There was no delusional hope tucked in his chest anymore. Just a quiet, selfish desire to spend a little more time with Soobin before they both returned to their separate lives. He wondered, briefly, if they’d keep seeing each other once he was back in Seoul. Maybe he’d land another campaign with Soobin’s company. And maybe then, they could see each other professionally… and who knows?
This time, when Soobin showed up at his door, he was carrying a small gift: a bar of ginger chocolate – his mum’s favourite.
“I just picked it up on the way here,” he said nonchalantly.
Soobin was still perfectly chivalrous – opening the door for Yeonjun, offering a hand with his coat – but tonight there was something different. A tension clung to him, subtle but noticeable. His grip on the steering wheel was tighter, his laughs in their small talk slightly forced, like his mind was elsewhere.
Yeonjun couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of his own blunder the other night. That is, his awkward confession and the messy bar scene. Had he created a wedge between them, even unintentionally?
When they arrived at the festival, Soobin immediately rushed out of the car, opening Yeonjun’s door first. Then he popped the back door open and reached in, pulling out a small bundle.
“This is for you,” he said, holding out a petite bouquet of flowers. His lips were pursed just so, making his cheeks puff slightly and his dimples more prominent. Yeonjun’s heart stumbled. He almost fell over at how unbearably cute Soobin looked.
“Thank you,” Yeonjun said, taking the flowers carefully. “They’re so pretty.”
As they walked toward the festival lights, Yeonjun’s heart pounded so loudly he could swear Soobin might hear it too.
They wandered through the glowing paths of the festival, the cold air crisp against their cheeks. Fairy lights flickered overhead, casting a warm glow over the crowd, and the occasional puff of steam from hot chocolate stalls drifted past them.
Yeonjun clutched the bouquet tightly in one hand, the other hand brushing against his jacket pocket every few seconds, as if he could make the nerves disappear. Soobin walked beside him, shoulders slightly hunched, occasionally glancing at him with a tentative expression.
They paused at a display of light-up reindeer. Soobin stepped closer to point at a particularly sparkly one, and their arms brushed. Yeonjun froze for a fraction of a second, heart hammering. Soobin didn’t pull away, just adjusted his sleeve, and Yeonjun had the sudden, ridiculous urge to melt into the snow.
“They’re so cute,” Yeonjun said softly, nodding at the reindeer.
“Yeah,” Soobin murmured. His eyes flicked toward Yeonjun, briefly catching his gaze before darting back to the lights. “Reminds me of when I was little. My parents used to decorate the yard with all these lights and stuff. Do you remember? It felt like magic.”
Yeonjun smiled. “Yeah, I did. My mum once joked that you’d be able to see your house from a plane landing at Incheon”
Soobin’s smile deepened faintly. “Really? That’s cute.”
Another brush of arms as they moved closer to the next set of lights made Yeonjun’s stomach twist. He cleared his throat. “And your Christmas this year… did you have fun?”
Soobin tilted his head, thinking. “It was chaotic. Now that my nephews are old enough to start knowing what Christmas is, my sister and her husband went all out. They even – um – asked about you” His voice was quiet, almost shy, but there was something soft in it that made Yeonjun want to lean a little closer.
Yeonjun felt heat rise in his cheeks. “They did? What did they ask?”
“Well,” Soobin said, shifting slightly so their elbows brushed again, “They asked if I got you Superman for Christmas. Sorry to disappoint, though, I just got you the flowers”
Yeonjun blinked, heart stuttering. “No, that’s okay. I didn't get you anything, so...”
Soobin tugged Yeonjun along, navigating through the crowd until they reached the Heart Tunnel. Once inside, he guided him to the far end and gently spun him around so they were facing each other.
The glow of the pink and red lights painted their faces in soft hues. Soobin fidgeted, his fingers twisting and untwisting nervously. Yeonjun’s stomach flipped, knots tightening like icy ropes, and he suddenly felt acutely aware of every sound: the distant laughter of festival-goers, the soft hum of lights, the quickening beat of his own heart.
“So… um,” Soobin started, opening and closing his mouth like he couldn’t quite find the words. He finally spoke, voice low and hesitant. “Do you… Really like the bouquet?”
Yeonjun blinked, trying to steady his voice. “Oh… yeah. It’s really pretty. What kinda flowers are they? Some kind of rose?”
Soobin nodded, glancing down briefly. “Yeah. Christmas roses. And… um… mistletoe.”
Yeonjun’s heart leapt. He stammered, cheeks warming. “Mistletoe, huh? You… trying to kiss me or something?”
Soobin froze for a moment, scratching the back of his neck, looking utterly uncertain. Then, slowly, he stepped closer. One of his hands lifted Yeonjun’s bouquet above their heads, and with the other, he gently tilted Yeonjun’s chin up.
Their eyes met. They were searching and hesitant. Yeonjun could feel a heart thudding, but Soobin’s chest was so close that he wasn’t sure whose it was. Then, softly, Soobin closed the distance between them. The kiss was tentative, almost shy, but so full of warmth it made Yeonjun melt immediately, his arm dropping.
Yeonjun let himself lean into it, his free hand brushing against Soobin’s arm, and for a heartbeat, the rest of the world – the festival, the lights, the cold – completely disappeared.
Soobin pulled back just slightly, brushing his forehead against Yeonjun’s. “Uh… sorry. Was that… totally lame and cliche?”
Yeonjun shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. “No. Well… kinda. But… It’s the kind of lame I like.”
Soobin’s eyes softened, and without a word, he leaned in and pressed another quick, gentle peck to Yeonjun’s lips.
“Good,” he murmured, a small smile playing at his dimples.
Yeonjun’s stomach did that familiar flip again, and he couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped him.
As they left the glowing heart tunnel behind, hand in hand, Soobin led Yeonjun back to the car. The night air was crisp, and the quiet hum of the streets felt intimate after the chaotic warmth of the lights and Soobin’s lips.
Yeonjun leaned back in his seat, still holding the bouquet loosely in his lap. “My mum is going to tell me ‘I told you so’ when I get home. She’s been trying to convince me this whole time that you’re into me.”
Soobin glanced at him, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you not believe her? I didn’t think I was being very subtle. I’ve been all over you since I saw you in the cafe”
Yeonjun groaned, burying a hand in his hair. “Yeah, well… I’m stupid, okay? Plus… your nephew said you had a girlfriend.”
Soobin practically yelped, laughing. “WHAT?! And you believed that? Me?? A woman?? Yeonjun. Be serious.”
“Well… I don’t know! Something about how you always talk to your sister about some ‘noona’ you’re obsessed with,” Yeonjun admitted, voice small.
Soobin laughed harder this time, shaking his head. “Have you never had a codename for your crush? Like back in high school?”
Yeonjun blinked. “I—well, yeah, but… I don’t get it.”
“That is my nickname for you, so I could talk about you without anyone knowing,” Soobin explained, dimples flashing. “I called you that because… well, remember when you had that really long hair and used to tie it up in a ponytail?”
Yeonjun’s jaw dropped slightly. “Wowwww.”
A comfortable pause settled over them.
“You… you still want to see me when we go back to Seoul, right?” Yeonjun asked cautiously.
“Well, yeah,” Soobin said with a small grin. “That was sorta the plan.”
“Oh. Okay. Good, good… what part of Seoul do you live in?”
“Seocho,” Soobin replied simply.
Yeonjun’s eyes widened. “Wait… I live in Gangnam”
Soobin’s grin widened. “Yeah, I know.”
Yeonjun’s face heated. “You’ve been stalking me all these years, huh, Soobin?”
Soobin leaned back, mock-serious. “You wish.”
🎄⛄❄️🎅
One year later:
Yeonjun was perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging impatiently, as his boyfriend pulled a tray of golden sugar cookies from the oven. The warm scent of butter and cinnamon filled the small apartment.
“Soooobinnnn, come hereeeee,” Yeonjun whined, kicking his feet petulantly against the cabinets.
Soobin rolled his eyes but shut the oven with a soft click, then slid in between Yeonjun’s legs, balancing carefully.
Yeonjun looped his arms around Soobin’s neck, tugging him closer. “I missed you.”
“So did I, baby.” Soobin nuzzled against his forehead, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Yeonjun’s ear. “And you’re not allowed to go overseas ever again. I don’t care if it’s for Calvin Klein.”
“You’re just jealous that everyone’s going to see my perfect, sexy body on all those large billboards”, Yeonjun teased, swatting Soobin lightly on the chest.
“Hmmm… no,” Soobin murmured, pressing a hand to Yeonjun’s side and leaning in. “People can look all they want. I’m the only one who gets to do this.”
He leaned closer for a soft, slow kiss. Yeonjun let out a tiny laugh into it, hands tightening slightly around Soobin’s neck.
“Ugh, you two are disgusting,” came a voice from the bathroom, breaking the moment.
Beomgyu emerged, arms crossed and mock-disgust plastered on his face. He shook his head dramatically, trying not to laugh.
“You would be too if your mystery one-night stand from the other night would text you back,” Soobin teased, giving Yeonjun a playful nudge.
Beomgyu grimaced, sighing. “I can’t wait to meet your friends so we can all gang up on the two of you. I’ve had enough of being the third wheel!”
About fifteen minutes later, a knock at the door made them all jump. Yeonjun hopped down from the counter, brushing crumbs off his jeans, and swung the door open to find Taehyun and Kai, grinning wildly.
“Merry Christmas!!!” they shouted, barreling in and flinging their coats onto the nearest chair.
“Taehyun and Kai, this is my best friend—” Yeonjun began, raising a hand to stop them from trampling over the cookies.
“BEOMGYU?!” Kai shrieked, eyes wide and jaw dropping.
Beomgyu spun around, equally stunned, knocking into the Christmas tree and almost toppling it completely. “KAI?! You’re Soobin’s friend?!”
Kai, cheeks burning, pointed dramatically. “And you’re Yeonjun’s?!”
“Evidently,” Beomgyu muttered, looking betrayed, hands on his hips.
Taehyun threw up his hands in defeat “Does someone want to explain what I’m missing?”
“Well,” Beomgyu said, flopping onto the couch, rubbing his temples, “I’ve been waiting for Kai to text me back since what I thought was a very satisfying evening last week!”
“I—I never got your text!” Kai stammered, leaning against the kitchen counter, face flaming. “I was waiting for you to reach out!”
Yeonjun and Soobin exchanged a knowing glance.
“Anyone want cookies?” Soobin beamed.