Work Text:
“Come on, Anxin, is it really that hard?”
Arno buzzes in his ear like an annoying fly around something sweet, except it’s freezing outside and there shouldn’t be any flies nearby.
Anxin lets out a heavy breath under his nose, doing his best to secure the string lights on the shop window without falling onto the cage with the budgie.
“What if it is? It is hard.”
It feels like any excuse should work right now, considering Arno hasn’t shut up since the moment they changed into their work clothes.
“Then make it not hard! Please!” Arno’s tone turns nasty — the kind Anxin absolutely hates. It drills into his eardrums worse than ordinary whining.
“Explain one thing to me,” the last hook finally holds the lights in place properly and doesn’t fall off, and Zhou turns to look straight at Arno. “Why do you need someone else on your own date? It’s Christmas — the holiday of lovers and all that. Lovers. Not lovers and their friends. Buy a Christmas cake with Junseo-ge or book a table at some fancy restaurant and that’s it.”
“But it’s our first date!” Arno looks like he’s about to stomp his foot in protest.
“We’ve all known each other since childhood!” Anxin shoots back, actually stomping lightly on the step stool, which makes the lights he worked so hard to attach come loose again in the same spot. Zhou is genuinely ready to rip his hair out.
“But it’s different, Anxin, please. Think about your first date — wasn’t it awkward?” Arno brings out his final weapon: comparison.
“It was. But my first date was at fourteen with the most popular girl in school, not at twenty-four with my childhood friend. You two skinny dipped together at Geonwoo’s birthday — there shouldn’t even be a hint of awkwardness between you,” Anxin snaps, tearing off a small piece of tape and resorting to desperate measures.
This year, in their small pet shop, Arno came up with the idea of making a cat face out of string lights — and Anxin ended up being the one doing it, because Arno wasn’t feeling like doing it. And Anxin really tried to make it neat and pretty, buying special hooks, but as it turned out, everything should have been taped from the start like usual.
“Even if we had slept together, that still has nothing to do with awkwardness on a first date!” Arno grabs the scissors Anxin hands him while Anxin secures the lights with a few more pieces of tape. “Wait,” Arno’s tone switches from whiny to serious. “What are your plans for Christmas?”
And that’s the exact moment Anxin makes his biggest mistake — focusing too much on the stupid lights and completely losing track of the conversation.
“None. I’ll order pizza, watch Home Alone, then The Grinch, and probably...”
“So you and Sangwon don’t have any plans!” Arno even claps his hands like he’s solved the biggest mystery of humanity, and Anxin seriously thinks that maybe falling over and hitting his head wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
“And how is that relevant?” He tries to keep his voice steady — not jumping too high or dropping too low.
“It means nothing’s stopping you from going on a double date with us, and right now you’re just messing with me!”
Anxin wishes that was the real reason he’s refusing, but the truth is far more complicated than Arno could imagine.
“Ordering pizza and watching movies are plans, for your information,” Zhou mutters irritably, finally fixing the last hook and carefully stepping down to inspect his work. This time the lights are secured everywhere they should be, and a big glowing cat face blinks in multicolored lights on the shop window. “Besides, I don’t want to spend my evening watching you and Junseo-ge trying to hold hands.”
“Hey!” Arno protests at once, pointing at him, but Anxin quickly pushes his finger aside with a quiet click of his tongue. “Your plans can shift a little. I’m not asking you to stay with us all night. We go to a restaurant, chat, get used to everything a bit, look at you two being disgustingly cute, and then you go eat your pizza and watch The Grinch and...”
“No ‘and,’ ge. I said no,” Anxin is ready to cry from helplessness. He still needs to decorate the register, the walls, the entrance door, check all the baubles, count how many food packs to order for the kittens, clean the fish tank — and his friend’s whining absolutely doesn't fit into this packed schedule.
“I’m still your boss,” Arno tries, even lowering his voice to sound more serious, but Anxin only smirks.
“I own fifty percent of the business. I can throw that same argument right back at you.”
“Then I’ll text Sangwon!” Arno threatens while Zhou tries to open the taped box with Christmas ornaments and tinsel.
And that threat is actually the most serious one Arno has made so far, but Anxin doesn’t show it, methodically cutting the tape with a box cutter and peering inside — red ornaments. He needed blue.
“He’ll say no too, so don’t waste your time.”
“He won’t, because Sangwon, unlike some people, doesn’t abandon friends in need.”
For full effect, Arno only needed to stick his tongue out and cross his arms, but even without that, Anxin rolls his eyes. Still, deep down, he really does think about it.
Sangwon should refuse, because Anxin did. Or at least Lee should text him and ask, Anxin will say he’s not going, and then Sangwon will have to refuse too. Yet the ugly tight feeling of anticipation doesn’t leave him all day.
Anxin gets home practically without legs, setting the heavy grocery bag on the floor and just standing there for a few seconds catching his breath, not even trying to take off his scarf or unbutton his coat. If Arno hadn’t been nagging him all day, he thinks, his head would hurt much less now.
Still, with a sigh, Anxin starts pulling off his outerwear, then picks up the bag and drags it to the kitchen, laying the groceries out on the table. He didn’t lie to Arno — he really planned to spend this Christmas alone with boxes of pizza and alcohol — but groceries still had to be bought. Xinlong would probably stop by a few days after the holidays, and pizza definitely wouldn’t count as festive food.
After the spices are put away and the meat placed in the second freezer drawer, Anxin starts making dinner, setting water for spaghetti and preparing meatballs from the minced meat to put in the oven, when the irritating buzz of his phone ruins the whole peaceful solitude. Zhou clicks his tongue and washes his hands to check the new message.
“Hao, oh my god…” Anxin mutters under his breath, almost sure it’s him. He’s already composing a reply in his head — choosing between even if you offer me money I still won’t agree and will you need a second couple at your wedding too so it won’t be awkward? — but all the witty lines fade the moment he opens the chat and sees the sender.
Sangwon
I’ll pick you up at six ;)
All of this could look like the most trivial Christmas romance, and the smiley face only adds to the comedy, but Anxin is absolutely not laughing, because at any second he’s ready to start screaming and stomping in frustration.
Anxin
Don’t tell me you actually agreed to Hao’s stupid request
Most of the time Zhou would start a conversation with a greeting, especially if the person he was texting was someone he hadn’t spoken to in three months, but this situation falls into the danger category, so he doesn’t care about basic politeness. Besides, Lee didn’t bother with a simple “hi” either.
Sangwon
I didn’t have any plans anyway
Anxin rereads the message three times, just to make sure he read the words correctly and actually understood their meaning. And honestly, Zhou can’t believe his eyes, because he himself would never have the nerve to agree to something so blatantly stupid without first checking with the person who’s also supposed to be involved.
Anxin
Well, I did
To be fair, Anxin absolutely doesn’t care how Sangwon is going to wriggle out of this. Let him find himself a date for the evening or show up alone — doesn’t matter — but Zhou is not stepping a foot outside his apartment. The twenty-fifth is reserved for pizza and movies, not for stupid Arno and an equally stupid Sangwon. At this point it’s not even surprising they’ve been friends since childhood — you’d be hard-pressed to find a more perfectly idiotic pair.
Sangwon
Pizza and movies aren’t plans, Anxin
And Zhou wants to answer that for the two of them even a simple trip to the store used to count as plans, but he holds himself back. No need to waste his nerves on Sangwon, Arno already drained his entire patience supply for the next several years.
Anxin
How do you know about my plans?
Sangwon
Hao whined about how boring we are and let it slip. Perfect timing, actually, otherwise I’d have had to improvise
Idiot.
Anxin
Then listen to me, not Hao. I have plans and I can’t
And I don’t want to, Zhou thinks, but doesn’t write it. There’s no need anyway — Sangwon does the work for him.
Sangwon
You just don’t want to
Annoying.
Anxin
Even if that’s true, it still means “no.”
Sangwon
What’s wrong with you, Xin, we’ve gone on double dates with Geonwoo and Xinlong like a hundred times
Anxin rereads this one again and again, looking for a hint of a joke or sarcasm, but finds none — realizing that Lee is absolutely serious and fully means it. It’s honestly hard to believe.
Anxin
Do you want to tell everyone we broke up? Or should I carry that burden myself?
But I’m telling you in advance, I don’t have time for dumb setup dates our friends arrange to make us reconcile, so you’d better think this through again and tell Hao the plans have changed and we’re going skiing or flying to the Hawaii, I don’t care, but I’m not going on a double date with him and Junseo
Anxin’s breathing goes uneven, like he just ran a weighted cross-country race, and he tosses the phone onto the table, trying to calm down. Too many feelings crash into him all at once, and he tries to sort out exactly what they are so he can organize them and breathe. The first thing that becomes obvious is shock — Zhou genuinely has no words to describe the level of disbelief this situation causes. Yes, they broke up not that long ago, but did Sangwon really forget that fact so easily and agree to Arno’s request without even bothering to discuss it with him first?
They broke up over something stupid (in Anxin’s opinion), but even so, Zhou didn’t argue when Sangwon said he needed a break. Lee’s reasons back then weren’t very clear, and he kept repeating that he wasn’t sure he was moving in the right direction and that he needed to figure out what he wanted from life.
“Xin… I was barely eighteen when we started dating. Think about it — we haven’t really lived yet. And it’s not about you, please don’t think that. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I just… I need this, love. I’m sorry.”
After that Sangwon kept talking. Saying this wasn’t a final breakup, that it was just a temporary break and definitely not permanent — but Anxin understood that Lee was trying to convince both of them. Because “I need time” never actually means “we’ll get back together.” Sangwon knew that just as well as Zhou did. But breaking up with impossible promises of a happy future was much easier than fighting and crying, blaming each other for everything.
So no — Sangwon definitely didn’t forget they broke up. He just decided for both of them. Like they were still a couple. Like always.
The second feeling Zhou sorts through is anger, but this one he doesn’t linger on. Even without deep analysis it’s clear — he’s angry at his ex’s reckless decision, the one that shattered the calm flow of his life and his plans.
And finally, the last thing that stands out against everything else is sadness. Because Zhou is more upset than angry. It’s hard to believe that three miserable months were enough for Sangwon to forget him completely, and now Lee doesn’t seem to consider him at all — not even in something as important as a double date on a Christmas night.
The phone vibrates again, then once more. At first Anxin doesn’t want to read whatever Sangwon replied, but Zhou counts to ten (actually to twenty, he just takes very long pauses between the numbers), then reaches for the phone again, unlocking the screen and opening the chat.
Sangwon
You’re not going on a date with Hao and Junseo, you’re going with me
Do you really hate me that much that you can’t stand my company for a couple of hours, for the sake of our friends?
In reality, it’s the opposite. He can stand it. He wants to. Sangwon’s company can’t possibly be unpleasant, because Anxin misses his warm hugs like crazy, misses his familiar scent, misses Sangwon’s soft hair falling into his face — and Zhou never once got annoyed by that little thing. And also because Anxin never wanted this stupid break in the first place, but everything unfolded on its own, and getting rid of his feelings in such a short time turned out to be impossible — something he often scolds himself for. If Sangwon managed to move on so easily, why can’t he?
Anxin’s conflict is mostly that he’s not sure about his acting skills in front of Arno and Junseo.
When he and Sangwon broke up, they both agreed to wait for the right moment to tell others, when all their friends would be too busy with their own lives to deal with Anxin and Sangwon’s breakup.
Their friends were good people, but in situations like this their kindness crossed certain boundaries. Anxin still shuddered remembering how everyone, led by Sanghyeon, tried to reconcile Geonwoo and Xinlong when they were on the verge of breaking up. And even though the plan was successful and that fight turned out to be the last one for that couple, Anxin didn’t want him and Sangwon to become the next target. Especially since they didn’t even have a serious reason to break up — trying to reconcile a couple where one of the partners simply needed time was just pointless.
Anxin freezes with his finger hovering over the screen, still thinking about his reply. He doesn’t want to lie to Sangwon and say yes, your presence is unpleasant. But even more, he doesn’t want to look like a weak idiot who can’t forget his ex. Zhou exhales irritably.
Anxin
I’m not sure I can pretend everything is the same as before
Sangwon
But I’ll be there
Anxin
That’s the problem
I don’t know, Sangwon
Sangwon
Just a couple of hours, Anxin
I’ll take you home the moment you ask, I promise
Just like you promised our break would be temporary? Anxin thinks — and actually starts typing it out — but Sangwon beats him to it.
Sangwon
Remember how nervous I was on our first date? I genuinely thought I was going to die
Anxin
We were kids
Sangwon
Does that somehow change the fact that I was completely swept off my feet by you?)
Anxin rolls his eyes, but still lets out a small smile. Sangwon hasn’t changed at all.
Sangwon
I’d be nervous even at fifty, because I’d still want to make the best impression on you and not mess it up
And Hao wants the same thing
It really isn’t hard for us to help, and it will be much easier for the two of them
Anxin
You promise you’ll take me home the second I ask?
Still, he hesitates. It’s hard to trust someone who shamelessly trampled your heart. It’s even harder because that very heart refuses to stop beating faster whenever Anxin thinks about Sangwon in any context.
He spent dozens of nights cursing everything that had anything to do with Lee — cursing his stupidly beautiful face, cursing his soft voice, cursing his warm hands that always held him so tightly and safely that Anxin felt like the world itself paused just for the two of them, stretching those happy seconds. If he agrees now, this will be the hardest evening of his life.
Sangwon
Pinky promise
Anxin
You know that if you break your promise, your pinky gets cut off, right? That’s the law
Sangwon
As long as it’s not the thumb, otherwise I won’t be able to reply to your messages, love;)
Anxin
Idiot
Sangwon
See you on Saturday, Xinie))
And even though he never gave a formal yes, apparently Sangwon didn’t forget him completely — and clearly understood that Zhou had lost this battle and still agreed to the stupid double date idea.
“I’ll make you pay for the pizza,” Anxin mutters to himself as he tries to refocus on cooking, checking the pasta and pulling the meat out of the oven.
And for the rest of the evening, Anxin doesn’t even notice the ridiculously stupid — but completely satisfied — smile playing on his lips.
***
On Saturday, Anxin wakes up unreasonably early, and the only thought pounding inside his head like fireworks on New Year’s Eve is: This is just a normal meeting, don’t overdo it.
That’s exactly why he tries to justify his early rise by telling himself he’s simply a morning person (not at all; Anxin hated getting up early), the long shower and the equally long styling by the fact that he needs to look good when going somewhere crowded, especially on a holiday (he celebrated last Christmas with a stupid little ponytail and an old but comfortable hoodie — and that was when they all gathered at Arno’s place), and the new dark jeans and his soft white sweater by the idea that these are the most comfortable clothes in his wardrobe (even Anxin himself knows that’s a huge and talentless lie).
Trying to impress your ex on Christmas is the dumbest idea that has ever crept into Anxin’s bright head, and yet he can’t help himself. It feels like a counterattack directed at Sangwon — look what you lost — even though Lee has long since started moving on, while Anxin seems glued to that exact moment in time where Sangwon’s voice keeps repeating without pause: it’s not your fault, I need a break.
And the truth is, Zhou realized that he alone was to blame for his stubbornness, because there were plenty of opportunities to meet someone new. But Anxin didn’t even want to listen to potential candidates, sinking too deeply into the belief that he was fine on his own. At first, that really was the case — he genuinely began noticing that the time he used to dedicate to Sangwon could be filled with personal things: a complete apartment cleaning and rearranging, stocking up on all the missing groceries that weren’t strictly necessary. But all of that quickly faded, and barely a week and a half after their breakup, Anxin caught himself feeling that he was lonely.
Sangwon always knew how to fill any empty space and any stretch of time. When they were teenagers and their relationship was just beginning, Lee could suddenly call in the middle of the night to warn Anxin that in two minutes he would be standing at the front door and Anxin needed to let him in. Sometimes he would simply grab Zhou by the hand and start running through the street, cutting through a crowd of annoyed people — at first Anxin would be confused and just try to keep up, asking what was going on while running, but when it became clear that Sangwon had done it for no reason at all, Anxin would start laughing like crazy, clutching his aching side that began to hurt from the sudden physical exertion. He never complained, because when their mini-marathon finally ended and they stood there breathless and flushed, Sangwon would kiss the smile right off Zhou’s lips — and Anxin could rightfully call himself the happiest person alive.
It was stupid to deny that with Sangwon’s leave Zhou’s life lost all its color and joy. Now his standard day consisted of gray routine: wake up, bathroom, breakfast, clothes, public transport, pet shop, annoying Arno, closing the pet shop, public transport, clothes, dinner, bathroom, sleep. And although over time he managed to somewhat get used to this new and boring order of life, Anxin would never deny that he missed Lee and his sometimes childish, yet endearing antics.
But Sangwon’s return was an entirely different topic of conversation, and Anxin knew that a regular sweater and fresh hair wouldn’t produce any sensation, and no miracle would happen. He wasn’t even sure that Sangwon was still single — maybe he had long since found someone else, someone better than Anxin. Not that Zhou’s self-esteem ever truly suffered, but if there hadn’t been someone better, then maybe Sangwon would have kept his promise and come back. Anxin wanted him to come back. Unfortunately, wanting wasn’t enough, because Santa Claus doesn’t give presents to adults — even the most desired ones.
Anxin spends the time until six in the evening on the edge. He regrets getting dressed so early, because now it’s too warm in the sweater, and overall he feels like he doesn’t look as good as he imagined. There’s nothing interesting on TV to distract him, and on his phone all his acquaintances seem to have conspired, because the entire feed is flooded with absurdly romantic photos of couples having festive breakfasts. In the end, Zhou spends the free time half-asleep on his not-so-comfortable couch, his head thrown back against the backrest.
He wakes up to a loud sound outside, and when he looks at the time on his phone, Anxin realizes that Sangwon should already be here, but there’s no text or missed call. The sound outside repeats, and now Zhou recognizes it. A motorcycle. A familiar motorcycle.
Anxin jumps up from the couch and rushes to the balcony, opening the door and immediately shivering from the cold wind, but still stepping forward and grabbing the railing, leaning his head down. Of course that idiot didn’t come by car.
“Come down!” Sangwon shouts cheerfully, completely ignoring the annoyed looks of passersby. Anxin is one step away from canceling their double date on the spot and returning to his original plans.
Lee, still smiling brightly as he sits on the bike, hasn’t changed at all, even outwardly. Anxin lets his gaze travel over Sangwon’s messy hair, now dyed blond, lingers a little longer on his face, looking straight into those beloved eyes despite the fact that he lives on the third floor and the distance between them is significant, then drops his gaze to Sangwon’s lips, stretched into such a happy, bright smile that Anxin wants to kiss it away right this second.
“I can’t ride a bike, I’m wearing a long coat!” Anxin shouts back, briefly wondering how many neighbors are grumbling because of their behavior, but he almost immediately discards the thought. His head is far too occupied by the curiosity of whether the older boy’s bleached hair will still be as soft to the touch.
“Put on your jacket! The big gray one!” Sangwon calls back just as carelessly, still smiling. Anxin uses the last of his strength not to smile back and reveal just how happy he is to see Lee — to the point of stupid trembling in his hands and a tight knot in his stomach.
“I’ll freeze in it!”
The jacket was warm, but the coat was warmer. And that definitely had nothing to do with the fact that the coat was part of his carefully planned look meant for some kind of revenge.
“I’ll warm you up!” Sangwon replies with full seriousness, and Anxin instantly becomes grateful that Lee can’t see his face, because the blush spreading over his pale cheeks has absolutely nothing to do with the cold.
Anxin sees no point in continuing the shouting match, so he rushes back into the apartment, closing the balcony door, grabbing his phone, heading into the hallway and, with a hint of irritation, pulling on that gray jacket. Of all things, Sangwon remembers this stupid outerwear — but completely forgets the fact that they broke up.
Screw his look. Anxin wraps a big scarf around his neck, hiding half his face in it, glances at himself in the mirror once more, nods as if trying to encourage himself, and finally leaves the apartment, heading downstairs.
But the moment he steps outside, his fast pace slows to something far too sluggish, because full realization only hits Anxin now. In front of him is Sangwon — his Sangwon — the very same Sangwon that Anxin still loves, even though he knows it’s stupid. And with every step, Lee’s features become clearer; the blond hair looks fluffier than it did from the balcony, and Zhou can finally examine the light strands up close, which makes him snort quietly to himself, hiding the smile in his scarf. Sangwon’s hair looks cute — staticky and definitely still just as soft — but its wind-tousled state makes him look funny and Anxin chuckles despite himself.
“What’s so funny?” Sangwon asks instead of greeting him, and Anxin realizes that he even missed his voice. More than anything, Anxin wants to take that last step forward and collapse into his arms, relax, let the entire weight slide off his shoulders. Instead, Anxin climbs on behind him, tightening his grip on the handrail behind his back.
“Nothing,” Anxin replies automatically, the faint smile still lingering on his lips.
Sangwon turns, looking at him over his shoulder, and for several seconds they just pause, staring into each other’s eyes. Anxin can only hope the scarf is hiding his red cheeks.
He feels genuinely stupid — like on that disastrous first date at fourteen — but this time it’s worse, because Sangwon isn’t the most popular girl in school; he’s the boy who dumped him three months ago.
And Anxin really shouldn’t be reacting like this. He should hate him. He should throw punches, demand answers, say obvious things like how Lee treated him like a complete asshole. But instead, Anxin feels warmth and an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. He wants to run his fingers through Sangwon’s soft hair, wants to hug him like before and press his cheek to his back, closing his eyes. He wants to kiss him, then kiss him again just to make Sangwon smile. He wants far too many things for someone who isn’t allowed to do any of them.
So instead, Anxin clears his throat, forcing control over his face.
“Your hair,” he nods lightly toward Sangwon’s head. “It's... Not bad, kinda very you.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Sangwon asks, raising an eyebrow. And Anxin becomes even more certain that this was a terrible idea. Because if it’s already this hard now, what will happen later in front of Arno and Junseo, when they’ll have to perform this whole still madly in love act?
“Something in between,” Anxin replies slyly.
When Sangwon smiles at him — soft, familiar, painfully so — Anxin finally looks away, checking his grip on the handrail again. Falling off the bike on Christmas evening is not on his list of wishes.
“Ready to go?”
“What, can’t wait to see the newly crowned sweet couple?” Sangwon teases with that same smile, but still turns back, gripping the handlebars tighter.
“The sooner we start, the sooner we’re done,” Anxin raises his voice over the engine. Again, just why couldn’t Sangwon have come by car?
“Come on, Xinie, it’ll be fun,” Lee replies cheerfully, then turns his head toward him again, quickly scanning Anxin’s face before coughing awkwardly. “Hold on to me. It’s dangerous this time of year to ride holding the rail.”
Now it’s Anxin’s turn to study his face, because hugging him is exactly what Zhou wants more than anything — and exactly what he absolutely cannot do.
“I’m serious, Anxin. Hold on tighter. I don’t want you slipping on the next turn.”
“You really don’t believe in me at all, huh?”
A stupid question — Anxin knows it himself. There’s no real difference in what you hold on to while riding, but holding onto the driver feels mentally safer, like his brain is playing some elaborate game with itself.
“I’m worried about you,” Sangwon says, his brows drawn together just a little. And Zhou knows better than anyone that Lee only did that when he was genuinely worried.
Anxin would normally take this moment to jab back — say he shouldn’t have come on the bike at all, say that in this weather the subway is the only reasonable option, remind him that they’re nothing to each other now, that close physical contact isn’t on their daily schedule anymore. But instead, Anxin swallows every grievance and the sad remnants of his pride, releases the handrail behind him, and wraps his arms around Sangwon’s body, pressing himself closer.
The familiar scent hits him instantly — perfume, laundry softener, sweet mint gum, and some hair product, Anxin could never remember the name of it. All of it together is Sangwon. It seeps even through the scarf, and Zhou sneaks the deepest breath he can, because he missed this so much. By habit, he rests his cheek against Sangwon’s back and closes his eyes. And suddenly, everything feels lighter.
The fact that Sangwon isn’t his boyfriend doesn’t weigh on him anymore. Neither does the stupid double date, nor his ruined plans. All Anxin can think about is how unbearably warm and familiar Sangwon is, how he wants to sit like this the entire evening, celebrate Christmas like this — just holding Sangwon tightly and forgetting about every problem in the world.
Sangwon doesn’t comment on his actions, but Anxin could swear he feels Sangwon’s fingers briefly brushing over the backs of his hands, which are locked together over Sangwon’s stomach, the touch is almost fleeting. In the next second, Sangwon lifts his foot from the ground, and wind roars in Anxin’s ears.
He wishes he could say this is fun. He wishes he could say this is nice. But he can’t — because it’s sad and it hurts.
As Sangwon carefully weaves between cars to catch the green light, fragments of memories flash through Anxin’s mind: their late-night rides on this same bike through empty Seoul streets. Some of Zhou’s happiest memories — when they were young, happy, in love.
Now Anxin suddenly wants to cry at the simple fact that everything has changed. They aren’t kids anymore. They haven’t spoken for three months. And after tonight, they probably won’t for much longer. Instead of overflowing happiness, Anxin feels a sting in his nose, warning of tears.
A warm hand pulls him back to reality as it covers his frozen fingers. Anxin jerks away from Sangwon’s back, immediately meeting his worried gaze.
“Are you cold?” Sangwon tries to cup both of Anxin’s hands at once, even though it’s physically impossible. Still, the warmth spreads somewhere inside him because of the touch.
“No,” of course he lies. He knew he’d be cold in this jacket.
Sangwon knows he’s lying too. So his long fingers gently separate Anxin’s hands, and Sangwon fully takes Zhou’s right hand in his own, squeezing.
“I’ll warm at least one,” and again — that smile. The one that used to belong only to Anxin.
It makes him want to scream.
Zhou wants to shout, wants to yell at Sangwon for being so reckless with him. Just because Lee has moved on doesn’t mean Anxin has. And even though he squeezes Sangwon’s hand back, inside the warmth frosts over, because it hurts knowing that Sangwon doesn’t mean anything by this, while Anxin is building fragile illusions and only hurting himself.
“The light is green,” Zhou says, far too relieved to finally have a reason for Sangwon to turn away and focus on the road again. Because Anxin is sure that if their touch lasted even a few seconds longer, he’d do something stupid he’d regret.
Sangwon lets go, returns his hand to the handlebar, and Anxin exhales quietly, interlacing his fingers again and closing his eyes.
Just get through an hour. An hour, maybe half an hour — then everything will go back to normal, Zhou tells himself, even though he already knows it won’t. He’ll have to start all over again, convince himself that Sangwon isn’t his person. Curse his name. Hate himself for agreeing to this meeting.
But was it worth it? Was this careless decision to meet Lee worth everything that Anxin will have to endure afterward again?
Zhou already knows the answer. He knows that...
“We’re here,” Sangwon says, lowering the kickstand and resting the bike on it.
Anxin opens his eyes and sees the restaurant sign in front of him.
He tries to act casual as he releases Sangwon and climbs off first, adjusting his scarf and clothes. But what he doesn’t expect is Sangwon’s hand finding his again — and the older boy interlacing their fingers, as if everything is exactly as it should be.
“What are you…” Zhou is already about to protest, but Sangwon beats him to the question.
“We always held hands, Xinie, don’t tell me you forgot,” Sangwon says with affected indignation, clearly meaning it as a joke, but Anxin doesn’t find it funny at all. Between the two of them, it’s exactly him who remembers everything far too well, even three months later.
“No kissing,” Anxin says barely audibly as they start approaching the doors, and he doesn’t know whether it was necessary to clarify something that was already obvious.
He and Sangwon had never been the kind of couple who kissed at every free second, but occasionally Lee could kiss him on the cheek, the temple, or the crown of his head when they all gathered as a loud group for dinner. And Anxin himself could allow just a little public affection too, when he brought Sangwon’s hand to his lips and left light kisses on his knuckles, drawing a soft smile out of Lee that only he ever noticed.
So there would be nothing strange about them not behaving as usual in front of their friends, and still Anxin decides to play it safe. He can barely tolerate touches; a kiss from his ex he definitely wouldn’t survive, he’s sure of that.
But Sangwon doesn’t comment on his words at all, only gentlemanly holds the door open for him, and then leads him to the cloakroom, taking his jacket and handing it to the attendant.
“Hao and Junseo aren’t standing here, you don’t have to try so hard,” Anxin remarks as if reminding him, waiting for Sangwon to hand over his own outerwear too, but to his surprise the older one only smiles lightly at that.
“Am I not allowed to court you on a Christmas evening?”
“And do you need that?”
And Anxin doesn’t even want to wait for his answer, because he’s sure he knows it in advance. Sangwon doesn’t need it — just like he doesn’t need Anxin himself and his stupid relationships. Zhou turns on his heel, already about to head into the dining area first, but Sangwon curses behind him and tries to catch up.
“Anxinie, hey,” Lee throws out on the move, doing his best to keep up with him while simultaneously shoving the coat check ticket into the pocket of his jeans. “Anxin, wait, please.”
Anxin, meanwhile, lets out a sad little smirk to himself, but still slows his pace. He wishes he could just as easily ask Sangwon not to leave him too, but for some reason he doesn’t allow himself that kind of audacity.
“Anxin,” and this time Sangwon’s fingers wrap around his wrist very lightly, almost fearfully. Has he finally remembered that there is nothing between them anymore? “Xinie,” Lee asks again as he gently tugs Anxin toward himself, urging him to turn around. At first Zhou waits a bit, ignoring the request, but in the end he gives in. He’s too weak when Sangwon speaks like this. So tenderly and lovingly, though most likely Anxin is just imagining things again.
Now they’re standing face to face, and all Zhou can do is hope that his face shows a grimace of dislike, which he’s trying very hard to force out. It surely doesn’t look sincere, because he doesn’t want to hurry anywhere, doesn’t want to go into the hall where Junseo and Arno are already waiting. He wants to stay here and, ideally, step just a little closer to Sangwon — just a bit — so that at least the tips of their shoes touch.
“I want you to have a good evening, I want you to like it, to be satisfied,” Lee explains calmly, finally stuffing the stupid ticket fully into his pocket and wrapping his other hand around Anxin’s second wrist. “It’s a holiday, after all. We should have a good time.”
“I would have a great time at home in the company of myself,” Anxin mutters in response, not looking Sangwon in the eyes, focusing instead on the older man’s chin.
“I know, Xinie, we won’t be here long,” Sangwon starts lightly tracing his thumbs over Anxin’s skin, and Anxin feels himself giving in. It’s as if Sangwon has the ability to talk him into any adventure, even when Zhou himself isn’t in the mood for it at all.
“No kissing,” Anxin reminds him again indignantly, and Sangwon chuckles, letting go of his wrists but still taking one of his hands properly. “I’m serious, Sangwon, promise me,” Zhou insists just as indignantly, though he knows it’s pointless, because even if Lee did promise, it would cost him nothing to break it.
“Fine.”
“That’s not a promise.”
“Who told you that?”
“I did. Sangwon…” But Anxin can’t even raise his voice at him, because they’re entering the dining area, and the older one is the first to spot their friends among the crowd of tables, lifting his hand in greeting.
Arno chose the restaurant for the meeting, and now Anxin tries to distract himself with everything around him (because clearly, arguing with Sangwon isn’t going to work). Arno and Junseo are waiting for them at a table by the window, sitting on a sofa, and Zhou is ready to swear that the tension between them could be cut with a knife — it’s that palpable. And now Anxin believes a little more that they really did need a second couple for this stupid Christmas-date idea.
They’re sitting next to each other, yet there’s still some distance between them, which is very strange, because before their relationship Junseo used to flop onto Arno all the time, falling asleep on his shoulder. But now embarrassment is written all over both their faces, and they’re holding hands under the table in an almost childish way. And while it’s pretty cute, Anxin is honestly holding back a laugh, but Sangwon doesn’t let him embarrass their friends even more, squeezing his hand in his own as if urging him to calm down.
“Have you ordered anything yet?” Lee, as always, doesn’t waste time on greetings. He lets go of Anxin’s hand, allowing the younger one to sit by the window, then sits down next to him and immediately wraps an arm around Zhou’s body, pulling him closer.
And Anxin knows better than anyone that he should move away, because they can’t behave the way they used to anymore. Sangwon can’t hug him anymore (and surely doesn’t want to, only doing it now for show in front of their friends), Sangwon can’t kiss him on the crown of his head anymore, and Anxin himself can’t trustingly relax in his arms or bury his nose in his neck anymore. But…
‘One evening,’ Zhou begs silently, as if trying to negotiate with his inner self. ‘Please, I’m only asking for this one evening, and then everything will be as before.’
And even though his inner self doesn’t answer him, Anxin decides not to waste the time he’s been given. So he presses closer to Sangwon, resting his head somewhere near Lee’s collarbones, so that the older man’s lips are level with his own temple. And Anxin could swear he hears Sangwon stop breathing for a split second, and then, very timidly, he moves his hand, placing his palm on Anxin’s stomach. And Zhou drives the final nail into the coffin called “Christmas with your ex” when he reaches back and intertwines his fingers with Sangwon’s, relaxing into Lee’s body even more. This is their usual position — at all gatherings with friends they almost always sat like this — and it’s a very convenient excuse, because if after this whole performance Sangwon demands explanations, Anxin can always say that he was just playing his role well in front of their friends so they wouldn’t suspect anything was wrong.
“No, we were waiting for you,” Arno answers for himself and Junseo, and Anxin notes with surprise that even Arno’s voice is thinner and slightly shaky, and he notices a clear blush on his cheeks opposite him. He lowers his head again so he won’t laugh at his friend’s awkwardness. Maybe coming to this meeting wasn’t such a bad idea after all — at the very least, Anxin now had a huge amount of compromising material on Arno.
Junseo, who’s still holding Arno’s hand, thinking no one notices, still hasn’t said a word, and Anxin notices that their awkwardness is rubbing off on him too. And it seems like only Sangwon isn’t bothered by the atmosphere at all, because he casually crosses one leg over the other and picks up the menu from the table, opening it so Anxin can see it too. Junseo grabs his menu right after and opens it the same way, hiding his and Arno’s faces from view, so Anxin decides to take a risk.
“We should ask them something,” the younger one says barely audibly while Lee studies the appetizer page with interest. Sangwon’s thumb strokes Anxin’s hand, but Zhou tries not to give in to these manipulations and keep a clear head. After all, since he did agree to this, he really can be useful and help their friends.
“For example?” Sangwon props the menu against the table to turn the page. He could do it much faster if both of his hands were free, but he doesn’t, and Anxin is actually far too happy about that.
“As if I know,” Zhou gets distracted for a second, looking over the salad page. Because of his nerves he hasn’t eaten anything, and now his stomach is doing posthumous somersaults inside him, making him uncomfortable, he needs to eat at least something. “You agreed to all of this, so you come up with a topic for conversation.”
And Anxin absolutely doesn’t expect Sangwon to lean closer to his face and raise his eyebrows in surprise, as if offended. Because that used to be one of Lee’s habits, one Anxin had completely forgotten, which makes him snort under his breath now and cover his mouth with his free hand so he won’t laugh out loud at how funny Sangwon looks.
Lee studies his face for a pitiful second, then lets out a light laugh himself and, following those same habits of his, buries his face into Anxin’s neck, tickling his skin with warm breath. And right now they don’t look like exes who broke up some time ago at all. From the outside they look like two stupid schoolboys laughing at a joke that isn’t funny at all, and it would be easy to mistake them for a newly formed couple embarrassed by their own actions. Because Arno and Junseo are quietly studying the menu across from them, and Anxin catches a slightly disapproving look from Kim when he stares at them point-blank.
“What’s so funny?” Junseo throws out a little roughly, but Anxin and Sangwon both know that Junseo talks like that when he’s embarrassed, hiding it behind mild aggression and irritability.
“Nothing, just picking a dessert,” Sangwon replies, still hiding his face in Anxin’s neck, and the younger one gets used to this long-forgotten action from Lee far too quickly. And if everything were like before, Anxin would’ve turned his head to the side to leave a kiss in Sangwon’s hair — but now he doesn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he’s not allowed to. Instead, he tries to pull himself together, flipping the menu page and moving on to the hot dishes, while Sangwon finally returns to his original position. Even so, Anxin clearly feels the older man pulling him closer, and he doesn’t resist.
When they finally place their order, Arno starts talking about how beautifully Anxin decorated their workspace, hanging up garlands and ornaments, saying he himself could never do that. But Anxin doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation, finally looking around properly.
In truth, he’s ready to give credit to the people who worked on decorating the place, because Anxin really likes how the Christmas atmosphere seems to waft from everywhere. A large Christmas tree stood in the center of the hall, decorated in red and gold; fir branches and mistletoe wrapped around the bar; and right by their table, on the windowsill, stood a mini tree — like a small copy of the main one in the center. Anxin gets distracted by it, sliding a little lower on the sofa, using Sangwon like a soft pillow. Their hands are still intertwined. Lee laughs softly at something Junseo says, and Anxin feels a light vibration through his body. He wouldn’t mind dozing off right here, in the warm and far-too-familiar arms of his ex — but Sangwon’s next question shatters the magic.
“So, how did it happen?” Lee asks in his casual tone, now wrapping Anxin with his second arm, as if Zhou were a living plush toy. Sangwon’s chin rests on the crown of Anxin’s head, and from this position he can’t stop the stream of Sangwon’s thoughts.
“What exactly?” Junseo looks at him a little confused and shifts slightly closer to Arno, as if trying to copy the pose Sangwon and Anxin are sitting in.
“You two!” Lee continues with a light chuckle, and Anxin is now a hundred percent sure Sangwon is asking exactly what shouldn’t be asked, because then their perfect plan will fall apart in an instant. “I mean, we all knew that sooner or later you’d realize you were madly in love with each other and all that. Xinlong even lost money to me over it. But how did you get there?”
Sangwon’s eyes are burning with undisguised excitement and interest, but Anxin still tries. He squeezes Sangwon’s hand several times, signaling that he’s going in a completely wrong direction, but Lee seems determined not to understand the hints, squeezing Anxin’s hand back and continuing to look expectantly at their friends.
And Zhou watches in horror as utter confusion forms on Junseo’s and Arno’s faces. Arno shoots Anxin a questioning look, then turns back to Sangwon.
“Sangwon, didn’t Anxin tell you? We talked about it with him a couple of weeks ago.”
Anxin starts slowly counting to fifty.
Because now their three-month-long lie is about to be exposed, and then Arno and Junseo will realize that all those “tell Sangwon I said hi” were never actually passed on for three whole months. After that, they’ll definitely contact Geonwoo and Sanghyeon to help come up with a reconciliation plan, because “you and Sangwon are such a great couple!”, and Anxin is now living through his last peaceful seconds, waiting for hell to come crashing down on him.
“They fell for it, Xinie, can you believe it?!” Sangwon laughs loudly. Fake — Anxin recognizes it instantly, but Junseo and Arno are unlikely to catch such nuances. “You’re such fools,” Lee continues without malice, shifting some of his attention to Zhou and kissing him on the crown of his head.
‘We agreed “no kissing”,’ Anxin thinks, because his cheeks and ears are burning and he’s almost afraid to imagine how red he looks from the outside.
“I was joking, my God. You were so tense, I thought I wouldn’t survive it. Of course Xinie told me,” and at these words Anxin receives a second kiss in the exact same spot — and what’s worst is that he can’t even protest or pull away, because Sangwon is holding him too tightly.
In reality, Anxin never told him. And as it turns out now, Sangwon hadn’t even been interested in this question until today. Still, Lee managed to wriggle his way out of it. Lucky bastard.
“Idiot,” Arno and Junseo throw at him simultaneously, and then immediately laugh too, also in unison, which finally lets Anxin relax a little.
And the stupidest thing is that it all works far better than Anxin could have imagined, because now Arno finally takes the last step, leaning into Junseo, who wraps an arm around his waist. And Anxin curses Sangwon again in his thoughts, marveling at his sheer luck.
“And you two?” Junseo asks in return, when Arno settles comfortably in his arms, smiling contentedly.
“What about us? Already forgot our beautiful love story, grandpa?” Sangwon laughs at his own joke. And even if it’s not funny at all, it still sets a friendly, cheerful, almost festive atmosphere, so Anxin is willing to let the two kisses slide, because Sangwon is doing a pretty good job playing master of ceremonies for the evening.
“Three months ago you couldn’t shut up about the renovation — my head was killing me because of you, just so you know. But still, did you finally finish it?” Arno replies. For just a moment, Anxin finds it amusing that they’re finishing each other’s thoughts without even coordinating, as if the same question popped into their heads at the same time. But the moment passes quickly, because Zhou has no idea what to do or how to answer his friend.
“Anxin suddenly stopped complaining about it, so I figured you finally finished everything,” Arno adds, and that only makes it worse.
Of course Anxin stopped mentioning it at work — because they broke up. What renovation could there even be? At that point, a stupid repainting of the walls was the last thing on his mind.
But now a fairly obvious question creeps into his mind — why didn’t they talk through the basic points with Sangwon before the meeting? Why didn’t they agree on what was allowed and what wasn’t, why didn’t they discuss the important details that could expose their lie at any moment. Because now, with every passing second, their perfect plan is collapsing like a sandcastle hit by a wave, and Zhou is not happy at all, tensing up in Sangwon’s arms without caring that the other man will surely feel it.
“We decided to start with my apartment, while there’s no one there,” Lee begins absolutely calmly, as if he memorized this text right before the meeting, while Anxin does his best to keep a mask of composure, because according to their script, of course he already knows this information. “We’ll wait a bit and temporarily move in to it, so we can start working on Xinie’s apartment,” Sangwon continues, lowering his head and now resting it not against the crown of Anxin’s head, but against his shoulder.
“Then we’re first on the housewarming guest list,” Arno manages to chime in just before the waiter approaches, setting the ordered dishes on the table. Anxin takes advantage of the moment, slightly turning his head toward Sangwon — now the older man’s nose brushes against his own, and they’re far too close.
“So you did repaint it after all?” Anxin asks quietly, while the waiter fills the silence with explanations of each dish, as if they’d come to a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
“In dark brown. It looks pretty expensive, you absolutely have to see it,” Sangwon answers just as quietly. And before Anxin has time to pull away, Lee kisses him on the forehead, then immediately sits up straight and pulls his plate closer, commenting on how interestingly his salad was served. Anxin smiles faintly.
The rest of the evening goes far better than Zhou could have expected. Salad is followed by hot dishes, but they don’t rush through the food, instead starting to talk about their mutual friends and discussing how they should all get together soon, since they haven’t met as whole group in a long time. Anxin spends a while talking about customers, recalling recent stories, and also complaining about Arno — making Junseo laugh happily, while still calming Arno down, who gets overly offended by Anxin’s comment that Arno’s hands grow out of the wrong place.
Anxin himself doesn’t even notice how he ends up back in Sangwon’s reliable arms, pressing closer to his body. He tries to ignore the light kisses too, yet can’t help but secretly enjoy them deep down.
Sangwon kisses his temple several times while hugging him tightly and pulling him closer with both arms. Another kiss lands somewhere on his neck, right in the middle of Anxin’s story, another one Lee leaves on his cheek, far too close to his lips. At that moment Anxin is listening to Junseo talk about his work, while Sangwon leans closer, first brushing his nose along Anxin’s face, then kissing him and lingering there. And Anxin allows it — presses closer himself, moving Sangwon’s hands from his waist up to his neck so it’s more comfortable.
He tells himself that Lee is simply continuing to convincingly play their usual behavior, because they were always like this, always allowed themselves small displays of affection in public. But somewhere deep inside, Anxin wants to believe that Sangwon is putting more into these actions than just good acting. He wants to believe that Sangwon still enjoys hugging and kissing him, wants to believe he’s doing all this because he missed him too — not just because he doesn’t know how else to convince their friends that everything between them is still the same.
Most likely, Anxin wants too much.
When they finish dessert, Anxin feels pleasantly sleepy and tired, twisting in Sangwon’s arms so he can lie against him, closing his eyes. The evening turned out well, and now the café is warm and cozy, pleasant music plays in the background, Anxin has eaten the best food he’s had in a long time, and — most importantly — Sangwon is with him, hugging him and stroking his back, kissing his forehead again (Anxin stopped counting how many kisses that is tonight). More than anything, Zhou wants to linger in this moment for as long as possible — just sit on the comfortable sofa with his eyes closed, listen to the music and his friends’ conversation, and breathe in that familiar Sangwon’s scent as deeply as he can, so it stays in his lungs for a long time.
“Tired?” comes from right by his ear, and Anxin has to pry his eyes open to see that Sangwon’s face is once again a centimeter from his own. The older man’s eyes are beautiful and so beloved up close that Anxin freezes for a few seconds, just looking at them.
“A little,” Zhou answers, not even thinking of changing their position. It feels like Anxin at the beginning of the evening and Anxin now are two completely different people. Because this Anxin isn’t thinking about what’s right or wrong — he’s just enjoying the fact that, at least now, for this short moment, he can feel loved again, even if it isn’t real. “Why don’t I hear Hao’s chatter?” Anxin asks in surprise, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He could turn his head and look, but he likes Sangwon’s closeness too much to risk it.
“They went out for a fresh air,” Lee explains with a smile, gently brushing Anxin’s bangs away from his eyes. “They wanted me to wake you, but I didn’t do it in front of them, waited until they left.”
“Your hair’s messed up,” Anxin says a bit out of place, and Sangwon immediately reaches for his head, trying to fix his unruly blonde strands. “Still never learned how to style it properly?”
“There was no one to teach me,” Sangwon replies lightly, shrugging a little, and Anxin finds far more in this simple answer than he should. No one. Does that mean the older man is still alone? “You’ll still always be my best hairdresser,” Lee smirks, finally easing the pressure on his arm and relaxing, resting his forehead against Anxin’s.
“So that’s how it is — you only dated me for good hairstyles and styling,” Anxin protests with mock horror, but almost immediately lets out a laugh.
“Hard to admit, but yes,” Sangwon plays along, placing a hand over his heart and sighing. And now they laugh together, getting lost in the moment, forgetting about everything around them.
Anxin closes his eyes when Sangwon gently cups his cheek and lightly rubs his nose against Anxin’s, moving even closer. The younger one allows himself a bit of freedom too, covering Lee’s hand with his own and tilting his head slightly to the side.
And in all these three months, Anxin has never regretted their breakup as much as he does in this exact second. Because Sangwon is right here, so close. Zhou feels warm breath on his lips, and more than anything he wants to shorten this ridiculously tiny distance between them and kiss him like before. But instead, he keeps holding onto the moment, rubbing noses back — because that’s all he can allow himself. Just this small piece of illusion as a Christmas gift from fate, because everything else is forbidden to him. Forbidden to kiss the person he still loves so much it hurts. And it hurts right now — hurts to the point of burning tears in his eyes and a trembling lower lip — because Sangwon is no longer his boyfriend, and Sangwon no longer loves him.
“I want to leave,” Anxin whispers, hesitantly opening his eyes and meeting Sangwon’s confused gaze. And now he’s definitely imagining things, because Lee can’t possibly be upset about this, so why can Anxin so clearly read sadness in those large brown eyes?
“Home? Now?” Sangwon breaks a single question into two. He’s nervous, Zhou notes to himself, as if that could change anything.
“Yes.”
Sangwon looks like he wants to argue with his decision — Anxin sees it, reads it on his face — but Lee quickly pulls himself together and nods restrainedly.
“Okay, since I promised.”
And now the sadness in his gaze is too obvious, impossible to mistake for anything else. But Anxin doesn’t have time to figure out why that emotion appeared, because movement nearby distracts him. He and Sangwon pull away at the same time, watching Junseo and Arno return to their seats and smile at them stupidly.
“Oh, don’t stop, we’ll pretend we’re not here,” Junseo finally starts acting like himself, throwing out jokes and smiling wide, baring his teeth. On one hand, Anxin is glad, because it’s nice to know he managed to help, and now Arno and Junseo feel comfortable. But on the other hand, all these jokes feel a little out of place for Zhou right now. Still, there’s no one to blame but himself — Arno and Junseo had no idea he and Sangwon had broken up.
“We’d gladly take you up on that offer, hyung, but it’s time for us to go,” Sangwon replies with a smile, lightly patting the table with his hands. He reaches for his wallet to pay his part of the bill, but Arno stops him, waving a hand in the air.
“My treat. I’m serious, Sangwonie — don’t you dare try to shove even a hundred won at me,” Arno frowns threateningly, while Junseo beside him looks at him with pure adoration. “Besides, we’ll stay a bit longer, Junseo liked the parfait way too much.” Now Arno looks at Kim with the same adoration. Sangwon decides not to argue anymore.
They say their goodbyes quickly, and before leaving, Arno quietly manages to say, “Thank you so much, Anxinie, I owe you,” to which Zhou smiles faintly and replies, “No problem.” After that, the evening feels like it’s put on fast-forward: they leave the hall, walk to the cloakroom, Sangwon hands over their ticket, then takes both jackets — setting his aside and opening Anxin’s jacket in his hands to help him put it on.
“I could’ve done it myself,” Zhou protests weakly, but still accepts the help, slipping his arms into the sleeves and zipping it up.
“Can’t I take care of you on Christmas evening?” Sangwon repeats his earlier words. And before Anxin can repeat his own — not as good or successful — Lee quickly puts on his jacket and, just like at the very beginning, takes Zhou by the hand and leads him outside.
Now that time has passed, it’s even colder outside. Anxin can literally hear his own teeth chattering from the icy wind and the snow falling in large flakes onto his head.
Going home now feels like the right decision. He’ll take a hot shower, put on his favorite warm pajamas, and finally carry out his personal plans — because after everything that happened today, he’s unlikely to fall asleep anyway. But despite his serious resolve, Anxin catches himself thinking that he absolutely doesn’t want to return to his empty apartment. Pizza and movies now feel more like a stupid idea than real plans for the rest of the evening, so Zhou takes a long time gathering his courage, trying to make a decision.
“Hop on,” Sangwon calls out to him after brushing the snow off the seat and starting the bike, while Anxin moves toward him in very small steps, as if he’s still trying to convince himself he’s making the right choice. And yet, when he settles in behind him and wraps his arms around Sangwon’s body from the back, he makes up his mind. “Home?”
“Can we go to your place?”
Anxin realizes that he’s probably caught Lee off guard with that question, so he gives him time to think, trying not to panic. But when a full minute passes and Sangwon still hasn’t said anything, Anxin starts to get nervous.
‘Well, there you go’, he thinks. ‘You’ve definitely ruined everything now, because you’re the only one who’s still in love. What an idiot you are, Anxin, really.’
“I can practically hear you thinking, so don’t,” Sangwon asks, pulling Anxin out of further self-directed insults. “And yeah, we can go to my place, of course,” and the smile on his lips is genuine — Zhou has always been good at noticing details like that. “Just hold on tight. I’ll try to get you there as fast as possible so you don’t freeze any longer.”
This time, Anxin doesn’t need to be told twice. He hugs Sangwon tighter, resting his cheek against Lee’s back again and closing his eyes as Sangwon pulls onto the road and almost immediately accelerates to the maximum allowed speed.
Through his closed eyelids, Anxin feels the flashes and shimmer of lights and signs, hears the roar of the wind in his ears, and feels Sangwon’s heart beating in sync with his own as he lifts one hand from Sangwon’s waist higher, deliberately searching for that heartbeat. And even if he has no idea what they’re going to do or what they’ll talk about — even if he doesn’t understand at all why he asked Sangwon for this — he’s glad, because he managed to stretch their time together by another couple of hours; hours he’s going to draw out as if they’re infinite. Because he really doesn’t want to forget Sangwon again.
They get there in record time, and even though Anxin is thoroughly dusted with snow, he doesn’t pay it any mind — Lee grabs his hand and they laugh stupidly as they run from the motorcycle to the entrance of the apartment building, and then, still laughing, they rush up the stairs to the fourth floor.
“No peeking,” Sangwon says seriously, carefully guiding Anxin forward, one hand resting on Zhou’s waist while the other covers his eyes. Anxin feels that it’s even warmer in Sangwon’s apartment than it was in the café, and the air is soaked with the scent of gingerbread — the kind the older one loved so much to bake at Christmas. Anxin himself didn’t make any this year, because Sangwon’s always turned out better.
“It’s just walls, Sangwonie, please.”
Even now, Anxin tries to argue, though he plays along with Sangwon’s little performance, really squeezing his eyes shut and not even attempting to peek.
“And the tree! You haven’t seen it!” Sangwon exclaims, as if he’s explaining something completely obvious. “Don’t open your eyes until I tell you,” Lee gives his final instruction, and the next second Anxin feels the warm hands disappear from his eyes and waist, and it immediately becomes a little colder.
Zhou keeps playing along, so for several minutes now he’s been standing in complete darkness, listening to the rustling around him and trying to figure out what those sounds are.
“Be honest — was it a mess in here and you decided to clean it up just now?” Anxin asks half-jokingly, though in truth he believes this version the most, since he still can’t figure out what that rustling is.
“So that’s how low your opinion of me is? Unbelievable,” Sangwon mimics the exaggerated tone he used back at the restaurant, drawing a soft chuckle out of Anxin.
“If that’s not the case, can I open my eyes?”
“Absolutely not!” There’s genuine panic in Sangwon’s voice. “Be patient, Xinie, just one more minute.”
“I’ll be patient if you stay close. Standing alone in pitch darkness isn’t very nice, just so you know.”
Anxin stops filtering his words, and because of that the first sentence comes out sounding a little ambiguous, but he tries to ignore it. ‘Don’t judge everyone by yourself’, he reminds himself, surely Sangwon isn’t putting some hidden meaning into every word.
“Couldn’t you wait just a little longer?” Comes right by his ear, and Anxin flinches hard when two arms wrap around his waist from behind. “Don’t be scared, it’s me,” Sangwon’s lips brush against his earlobe with the earring, making his legs feel like cotton, but Lee holds him firmly and securely, so Anxin isn’t afraid of falling. “A couple more steps forward, small ones,” Lee continues giving instructions, nudging Zhou’s feet along with his own, and Anxin can’t suppress the absolute, childlike delight and happy giggles slipping past his lips, because he’s happy. He’s so damn happy to be with Sangwon in this exact second that it feels like he might burst from all the positive emotions flooding every single cell of his body at once. “You can open your eyes now,” Sangwon whispers in his ear, and Anxin doesn’t waste a second, opening his eyes immediately and parting his lips slightly in surprise.
The first thing that catches his eye, of course, is the Christmas tree. A real one — not artificial like the one at the restaurant — and the pine scent Anxin had picked up beneath the gingerbread smell makes sense in the same instant. Golden lights illuminate multicolored ornaments and other decorations, and Anxin honestly feels like he could squeal with delight like a kid in a toy store, because it’s all incredibly beautiful. The walls, painted a rich dark chocolate color, are also draped with golden fairy-lights, giving the impression that a whole swarm of fireflies has filled the room at once — the atmosphere is downright magical. And the last thing Anxin’s gaze snags on turns out to be…
“Did you seriously install a fireplace in your apartment?” Anxin can barely believe his own words; the scene in front of him seems even more unreal. Opposite the large (also new) couch, Sangwon has indeed installed a real fireplace — one that absolutely did not exist here three months ago. And now the source of those rustling sounds becomes clear, because logs are burning in the fireplace, and apparently Sangwon has been trying to get the fire going this whole time.
“But it’s pretty, right?” Sangwon asks hopefully, as if he’s genuinely afraid Anxin might not like it.
“Very,” Anxin replies, and somehow, on their own, his hands reach for Lee’s, their fingers interlacing for what feels like the hundredth time that evening, but no one complains.
“Do you want something to drink?” Sangwon asks quietly, switching into hospitable host mode, but all Anxin wants is to stay close to the older one for as long as possible, so he shakes his head. “Then what do you want?”
To hear that you still love me the same way I still love you.
“To be with you.”
Maybe he shouldn’t be saying things like that to someone who decided to break up with him, but Anxin can’t help himself — he wants to tell Sangwon the honest truth. They never lied to each other.
“And you?”
“I want to be with you too,” Sangwon’s lips leave the lightest imprint on Anxin’s neck, and Zhou tries not to shiver, because then there’s a chance Sangwon will kiss him again. “And I also want to dance.”
“Right now?” Anxin smiles stupidly at that declaration, but honestly, it doesn’t sound like such a terrible idea.
“Yeah. Right now.”
Sangwon has to step away from Zhou again, rummaging through the dresser near the tree while Anxin examines the ornaments more closely, but suddenly the first soft notes fill the apartment’s silence, and Lee appears in front of him with an outstretched hand and a smile on his lips. And of course Anxin accepts the invitation — like he ever had another option — and now one of his hands rests in Sangwon’s warm palm, while the other lies on his chest, right over his heart, as Lee wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him closer.
And Anxin almost immediately recognizes the song, smirking at the realization that he’s now living out the dream of hundreds of romantics — except he’s dancing not with his other half, but with his ex, whom he still loves.
“What?” Sangwon asks quietly, trying to figure out the reason for the smile on Anxin’s face.
“Everyone dances to this song outside in the snowfall, and we’re breaking all the rules.”
“I can sprinkle powdered sugar on you. Flour’s on the menu too,” Sangwon informs him with the most serious expression, but Anxin can’t hold back and bursts into laughter. There’s nothing particularly funny about those words, but Anxin’s in a really good mood, and he genuinely wants to laugh at the silliness. And it seems he passes that mood on to Sangwon, because the older one starts laughing along with him, and they don’t even notice how their faces end up far too close again. They’re too busy spinning in a light, easy dance by the fireplace and the tree — little details like that don’t matter.
When the laughter finally fades and they’re just smiling at each other, Anxin suddenly realizes that all his anger and resentment toward Sangwon have evaporated.
Just this morning he’d thought about yelling at the older man, about telling him how cruelly he’d been treated, about trying to hurt him the same way Sangwon had hurt him not so long ago. But now all Anxin feels is boundless love, and it seems that in this state he’d be willing to let Lee break his heart all over again — because all the good feelings bubbling inside him right now would drown out the pain, and Anxin wouldn’t suffer the way he once did.
He loves Sangwon so much, and somewhere deep down he desperately begs for everything happening between them right now to mean something.
“What did you ask Santa Claus for?” Sangwon asks, as if it’s the most important thing he needs to know at this very second. An utterly childish, silly question that doesn’t quite fit the fairy-tale atmosphere at all, and yet Anxin decides to answer.
“I don’t believe in him. That old man wouldn’t be able to give me what I want anyway.”
“Well, that’s too bad — he granted my wish,” Sangwon says with the utmost importance, and right now he reminds Zhou of a child trying to sound smart about something he knows absolutely nothing about. But while kids in moments like that can be irritating, Sangwon looks genuinely adorable, and Anxin doesn’t even notice how, because of that, the hand that had been resting on Sangwon’s chest slides up to his neck.
“And what did you ask for?”
“As if I’d just tell you,” Lee rolls his eyes, but almost immediately returns that carefree, happy expression he had a second ago. “If you didn’t ask for anything, you can do it now. There’s still time.”
“And then you’ll tell me your wish?”
“Pinky promise,” and Sangwon actually hooks their pinkies together. Their dance has long since slowed to a stop, and now they’re not moving at all, just standing there, holding on to each other tightly.
“Do you think my wish will come true?”
“If you’re on the Nice list, then definitely,” Sangwon says with a chuckle, but Anxin only smiles in response, then closes his eyes to make his wish silently.
And even though he’d never believed in Santa Claus, and believing in miracles had always seemed even harder than believing in some incomprehensible man with a beard in a red suit, Anxin really does say his wish to himself — scrunching up his nose with concentration, as if the more insistently he repeats it, the higher the chance it will come true.
He repeats it several times, mentally recalling which numbers are considered lucky for him, even though numerology probably has nothing to do with Christmas at all. But right now absolutely everything is fair game, because this is the most desired gift Anxin has ever wanted in all his life.
He doesn’t keep track of how much time passes, but when Anxin finally opens his eyes, Sangwon’s face is as close as it physically can be, and Lee’s palms are cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing gently over his cheekbones.
“Well?”
“I made a wish,” Zhou reports, as if making a Christmas wish were some kind of special task that absolutely had to be completed.
But all of that becomes completely irrelevant when Sangwon closes his eyes and whispers right against his lips, “Merry Christmas, my love,” and then kisses him — tenderly, so softly that Anxin feels like he might cry. And of course he kisses Sangwon back, wrapping his arms around his neck and lifting slightly onto his toes from all the feelings.
Everything that’s happening in this very moment, Anxin is ready to call a Christmas miracle. He keeps touching Sangwon’s lips with his own, smiling faintly when he feels that Sangwon is the first to smile, and it all feels more like a beautiful dream than reality. But when they pull apart, Sangwon doesn’t turn into an illusion and doesn’t disappear from his arms. He’s still here, close, smiling brightly and warmly, kissing Anxin on the very tip of his nose, then on his forehead and closed eyelids. It’s all real, and Anxin has never been happier than he is right now.
“What did you wish for?” Lee asks, stroking his face and peppering it with short kisses that make Anxin blush, though he happily accepts every single one.
“For you to come back to me. For real. For good.”
“And I wished to spend this Christmas with the person I love.”
With those words, the last weight finally lifts from Anxin’s soul, because all the things he’d been imagining throughout the day turn out not to be imagination at all, and everything Anxin had been so desperately wishing for finally comes true — bringing happiness and love with it, the kind that will last until the very end.
Sangwon doesn’t say anything else right away. He just pulls Anxin closer, forehead resting against his, as if anchoring them both in this moment, making sure it doesn’t slip away. His hands are warm and steady, thumbs still brushing Anxin’s cheeks in slow, absent-minded motions, like he’s memorizing him all over again.
“I’m sorry,” Sangwon finally says quietly, so softly it almost gets lost between their breaths. “For leaving the way I did. For making you think you were alone in this.”
Anxin swallows, his chest tightening, but there’s no sharp pain in it anymore — only something tender and achingly full.
“I would’ve waited for you to come back anyway.”
Sangwon lets out a breath that sounds dangerously close to a laugh and a sigh at the same time, then kisses him again — slow, lingering, unhurried.
They move to the couch almost without noticing how, tangled together in a mess of limbs and soft touches. The blanket ends up pulled over them at some point, the fireplace crackling nearby, the Christmas lights reflecting in the dark windows like a thousand tiny promises. Sangwon’s arm wraps securely around Anxin’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest, and Anxin fits there like he always has — perfectly, instinctively, as if his body never forgot where it belonged.
The movie plays, but neither of them is really watching it. Anxin traces idle patterns on Sangwon’s sweater, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, grounding and familiar. Every so often, Sangwon presses a kiss into his hair or his temple, like he can’t help himself, like he’s still afraid this might disappear if he doesn’t keep touching him.
“I missed you,” Anxin murmurs at some point, half-asleep.
“Me too, baby,” Sangwon answers immediately, without hesitation. “Every single day.”
Later, there’s pizza shared straight from the box, laughter over burnt crusts and stupid jokes, quiet conversations about nothing and everything at once. They talk about small, ordinary things — about plans for the next week, about unfinished repairs, about which movie they’ll watch next time — and in those simple words lives something huge and unshakable: a future.
When Anxin finally drifts off, curled against Sangwon’s side, his face relaxed and peaceful, Sangwon looks down at him for a long moment, brushing his thumb gently under Anxin’s eye.
“I’m not going anywhere, love,” he whispers, more like a vow than a reassurance. “I love you so much.”
And even in his sleep, Anxin seems to hear it, because he shifts closer, fingers tightening in the fabric of Sangwon’s sweater, a small smile ghosting over his lips when he mumbles “love you more.”
Outside, snow keeps falling, soft and quiet, covering the city in white. Inside, the world feels warm and whole again.
And this Christmas doesn’t just feel happy. It feels like coming home.