Archive of Our Own

December 18th:

The time Shingun finally made it to his small flat, the snow had already started sticking to the pavement. It wasn’t coming down particularly hard but it had been falling for long enough that the city had taken on that muted winter look he associated with the end of the year. The streets were darker than usual beneath the low clouds, headlights dragging pale streaks across wet asphalt and every few steps his boots left a damp impression in the thin layer of snow gathered along the pavement. The cold had worked its way through his leather coat hours ago. His fingers were still numb despite having spent the last part of the evening with them wrapped around a warm glass at the bar.

He stopped outside the apartment building and looked down at himself. There was probably still grease underneath his fingernails.

Lump Spark had been busy all day. The last day before the holidays always seemed to make things worse rather than better; everybody wanted their cars dealt with before Christmas, which meant the garage had been full from the moment they opened. By the time Liam finally shut things down, Shingun’s shoulders had ached from leaning over engines all afternoon and his clothes smelled so strongly of oil that even the cold air hadn’t managed to get rid of it. Then the others had dragged him to the bar and to everybody and his own’s surprise, he actually stayed longer than he’d intended.

It had been a good night though. It felt like kind of night that made going home feel less like an escape and more like the natural end of the day. There had been too much noise, way too much talking over one another and enough alcohol in each of his whiskey glasses that the crew made him chug that Shingun was feeling the faint warmth of it still sitting behind his eyes. He wasn’t particularly drunk but rather tired, loose-limbed and a little less interested in pretending he wasn’t exhausted.

He climbed the stairs rather than waiting for the lift, one hand sliding along the railing as he went. By the time he reached his floor, he was ready for nothing more complicated than taking his boots off and lying down.

The hallway was quiet. Shingun dug his keys from his pocket, unlocked the door and pushed it open. A breeze of warm air met him immediately. He stepped inside and shut the door behind himself, standing there for a moment without moving. Snow had collected along the tops of his boots and had already begun melting onto the floor. He bent down with a tired sigh, tugged one off, then the other and dragged them onto the mat before rubbing the soles against it a few times to get rid of the remaining slush. He hated cleaning up snow because it followed you everywhere.

His coat came next. He shrugged it off slowly, hung it on the hook by the door and ran a hand through his hair, brushing away the little bits of snow that had survived the walk home. The apartment was dim except for the light above the kitchen counter and the faint blue flicker coming from the television.

He frowned. He hadn’t left the television on. For a second he simply stood there, staring into the apartment before he noticed the dress shoes beside the couch. Shingun’s expression barely changed, of course.

There had never really been a point where Jake had officially moved in. Shingun had never asked him to and Jake had never exactly announced that he was going to. It had happened in pieces instead where a suit jacket would be left behind because it was cold, maybe a spare shirt because Jake didn’t feel like going home.  Now Jake was here often enough that Shingun sometimes forgot the apartment was technically his alone.

He walked further into the hallway. The place was still new compared to the old one and Shingun hadn’t completely gotten used to how much room there was. It was still only a studio but a decent-sized one. There was an actual kitchen instead of a cramped corner with barely enough space to turn around, a table by the window and a couch that didn’t force his knees against the opposite wall. He’d wanted somewhere he could come home to without feeling like he was climbing into a box.

Lately, though, the apartment had begun to feel less empty and it was not because he’d bought anything new but because Jake kept leaving pieces of himself around.

Shingun spotted him eventually. Jake was sitting at the table with a newspaper spread in front of him, one hand resting beside a cup that had probably gone cold a while ago. He’d changed out of whatever he’d been wearing earlier and looked considerably more relaxed than Shingun felt.

Jake looked up. His eyes moved over Shingun’s face, then down to his coatless shoulders, and finally to the boots he’d abandoned by the door. “You’re late.”, he remarked.

Shingun stared at him for a second then he looked at the clock. “It’s not that late.”

“It is for you.”

Shingun gave a quiet scoff and walked toward the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, stared inside without really registering anything, then closed it again. Jake watched him. “Did you drink?”

“A little.” Shin sighed. His breath did smell a little of alcohol he thought, though there wasn’t much that he drank compared to his younger days.

“How much is a little?”

Shingun turned his head, “Enough that I’m not answering that.”

At that, Jake’s mouth twitched a little. Shingun leaned against the counter, suddenly feeling the full weight of the day settle into his body now that he was home. The warmth and the quiet and the very faint smell of whatever Jake had made earlier made him feel more tired than he’d been outside.

Christmas was less than a week away. For once, Shingun wasn’t working tomorrow. Was Jake going to do anything for the holidays, he thought, but then he was reminded of his “duties” and decided to put a pin on that for later. He looked around the apartment again, at the second coat by the door and the shoes sitting beside his own. It was strange but unsurprisingly not unpleasant.

Somewhere between the end of the Ross mess, Jake taking time away from work and Shingun finding this place, they’d slipped into a relationship neither of them had bothered to name. Jake stayed and Shingun let him despite throwing away all of his values that kept him alive and healthy whilst growing up in a violent background.

For a few moments, Shingun simply stood there and watched him. It was still strange sometimes, how easily Jake had become part of the place. There had been a time when Shingun couldn’t imagine letting anybody get close enough to leave their things in his apartment, let alone close enough that their absence would become noticeable. Whatever he and Jake were had never really been discussed properly; there had been no grand decision since there was no point where either of them had sat down and decided what they were supposed to call this.

Somewhere along the way, Jake had become the person Shingun expected to see when he opened his door. They had argued, disappeared on each other, found their way back, said things neither of them were particularly good at saying. Once, they’d even said I love youand only once. Despite their prideful personalities, neither of them had been brave enough to make a habit of it. Shingun wasn’t sure what that made them and to be honest, he didn’t particularly care.

He crossed the room and dropped onto the couch beside Jake with a heavy sigh, letting himself sink down until he was practically slouched into the cushions. The tiredness had finally caught up with him. His head tipped back, eyes half closed and for a while he said nothing.

Jake didn’t either. He simply picked his glasses back up from the table, put them on and returned to the newspaper he’d been reading.

The apartment settled around them. The television murmured quietly from across the room. Somewhere outside, tyres hissed over wet pavement, followed by the distant rumble of a train. Snow tapped softly against the window, melting almost as soon as it touched the glass.

Shingun glanced sideways at the newspaper. “When did you read the newspaper every day?”

Jake lowered it slightly. He looked at Shingun for a moment, as though deciding whether the question deserved an answer. “I always have.”

Shingun raised an eyebrow. Jake looked back at the paper. “When I was younger, especially.”

That got Shingun’s attention. “Why?”

Jake was quiet for a second before answering. “Army.” His voice was matter-of-fact, almost casual. “After training, there wasn’t much else to do. So I’d read.”

Shingun looked at him whilst Jake continued scanning the page, one hand holding the newspaper while the other rested loosely against his thigh. There was something oddly ordinary about the image. Jake sitting there in his apartment, glasses on, reading the news because he’d apparently been doing the same thing since he was young.

Shingun didn’t really know what to say to that so he didn’t say anything. Instead, he shifted across the couch. It was slow and unceremonious since his shoulder pressed against Jake’s side first then he slouched further until his head came to rest against him, cheek settling against Jake’s shoulder. The position wasn’t particularly comfortable but Shingun was way too tired to care.

Jake glanced down. Shingun’s eyes were already closing. For a few seconds, Jake didn’t move then his free arm came around Shingun’s shoulders, settling there without a word. His hand rested against Shingun’s upper arm, loose and warm through the fabric of his shirt. The newspaper remained open in his other hand. Shingun breathed out slowly, finally letting his weight settle against him.

Shingun stayed where he was for a while, his cheek resting against Jake’s side, listening to the occasional rustle of newspaper whenever Jake turned a page. The warmth of the apartment had made the tiredness settle into him properly now. His eyes felt heavy, and the slight buzz left from the evening at the bar had softened everything around the edges.

He shifted a little, finding a more comfortable position against Jake. “I’ve got some time off.”

Jake’s eyes remained on the newspaper. “From the garage?”

“Yeah.” There was a brief pause before Shingun continued, his voice quieter now. “Liam’s closing for the holidays. Said nobody’s getting dragged in unless somebody’s stupid enough to volunteer.”

Jake glanced down at him. “And you volunteered?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Shingun gave a faint laugh against his side. “I might actually do something.

Jake turned another page. “Like what?”

“I don’t know.” It was probably the first time in a while that Shingun had been given enough free time to realise he didn’t have anything planned for it. Usually there was always something waiting for him: a car that needed fixing, parts to pick up, somewhere he needed to be, somebody asking him for a favour. The days tended to fill themselves and now there was nothing.

He looked toward the dark window. Snow had begun falling a little heavier, small flakes catching in the glow from the streetlights before disappearing into the night. “Maybe I’ll sleep,” he said.

“That would be a start.”

“Maybe work on the car.”

“You’ve got time off.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t work.”

Shingun lifted his head slightly, looking at Jake as though he’d suggested something ridiculous.  Jake finally looked down at him. “You don’t have to spend your holiday fixing something.”

Shingun considered that. “Maybe.”

Jake gave him a knowing look and returned to the newspaper. Shingun settled back against him, apparently satisfied with the answer. He didn’t really know what he’d do with the time yet. Maybe he’d sleep until noon. Maybe he’d wander around the city. Maybe he’d finally deal with the pile of things he’d been putting off or maybe he’d do absolutely nothing.

December 20th:

Unfortunately, throughout his early holiday days, Shingun had developed the unfortunate habit of leaving the apartment without actually knowing where he was going. He’d wake up late, eat something, throw on his coat and walk endlessly. There was no particular destination to it really; he wasn’t meeting anyone and Lump Spark was closed for the holidays, so for once nobody expected him anywhere. The city was cold enough to keep him moving, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he wandered down the pavement, boots occasionally crunching through patches of old snow that had survived along the curb.

Christmas had taken over everything, he thought. Garlands hung above shop entrances and a few department store windows were filled with expensive coats, watches, toys, radios and things he couldn’t imagine anybody actually needing. A few shops had little trees sitting beside their doors, their branches decorated with cheap ornaments that caught the afternoon light.

He barely paid attention to most of it until  he saw a watch. Resting on top of crimson, fancy pillow, it looked like it was plated with a shiny platinum band, having rose gold edges around the hand. Eyeing the metal, he slowed down. It was sitting behind the glass of a jewellery store, surrounded by other watches that looked unnecessarily expensive. He stared at it for a moment before moving on. Jake already had a watch, probably several so to him, that wasn’t useful. He kept walking.

A clothing store had a dark wool coat displayed in the window. Shingun looked at it, imagined Jake wearing it and immediately decided Jake would complain that it was too formal. A bookstore came next. That one made him stop again. Jake read more than Shingun had expected. Newspapers, mostly, but he’d started noticing the books around the apartment too. Nothing Shingun had ever seen him actually finish but they were there.

He stepped inside. The warmth hit him immediately, along with the smell of paper and dust. Shingun wandered through the aisles without much purpose, pulling books from shelves and putting them back after reading the backs. Most of them were too dense, way too many words about things he didn’t care about. He eventually found a book about cars and smiled at the slight nostalgia he felt reading about them as a teenager. That seemed more sensible.

He picked it up, considered it, then imagined giving it to Jake. Jake would probably say something sarcastic about how Shingun had bought him a book about cars when Shingun himself could barely tolerate reading anything longer than a newspaper article so he put it back. Outside again, he continued down the street.

Maybe Jake didn’t need anything? That was the problem. Jake could buy whatever he wanted. If he wanted a coat, he’d buy one. If he wanted a watch, he’d buy one. If he wanted something expensive and ridiculous, he probably wouldn’t even think twice about it.

Shingun kicked a little ridge of snow away from the curb. He wanted to give him something anyway, just because. He passed another shop window and caught his own reflection in the glass. For a second, he imagined what Christmas morning would even look like. Probably coffee, maybe something to eat like that pizza he shared with Rolphe and him a few months ago. Jake would probably complain about the cold whilst wearing the thickest trench-coat he had. Maybe the newspaper again. Shingun smiled faintly and he kept walking.

Halfway down the next block, something in one of the windows caught his eye. He slowed without really meaning to. Not being particularly flashy, the display was crowded with other things and he’d probably walked straight past it if he’d been looking anywhere else but there was something about it that made him stop and actually look. Shingun stood there for a few seconds, hands still buried in his pockets and he stepped closer to the glass. He looked at the item again. Then again, just one more time.

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “…Yeah.”

He could see Jake liking it. Maybe. Probably. Atleast he would like it enough to keep the thing, he pondered. He pushed open the rustic door of the shop.

December 23rd:

“You got any plans for Christmas?” Hoseong asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Shingun stood beside him with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, eating the hot dog he’d bought from the van. The two of them had ended up at the same spot they’d stopped at plenty of times before, neither really needing a reason to be there. The afternoon was bitterly cold, and every few seconds somebody hurried past them with their coat pulled tight around their body, shopping bags swinging against their legs. Shingun watched them for a moment before shrugging.

“Not really. Lump Spark’s closed, so I’m just off.”

Hoseong gave him a look. “You’re telling me you don’t have anything planned for the entire holiday?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I don’t have anything planned.”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

Shingun ignored him, taking another bite while Hoseong laughed quietly to himself. He seemed much more enthusiastic about Christmas than Shingun had ever been, and once he started talking about his plans, it became obvious that he had already thought the whole thing through. He was going to his sister’s house, apparently, where his parents and brother were coming too. His sister had been preparing food for days, his brother was bringing the kids and Hoseong had already been warned that he was expected to help with dinner.

“My sister’s been calling me nonstop about it,” Hoseong said, shaking his head as he flicked some ash onto the pavement. “Apparently I’m supposed to show up early because she needs help with something, but I know exactly what that means. I’m going to end up doing whatever she doesn’t want to do.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I know I’ll survive. I’m just saying she could at least pretend she appreciates me.”, he quoted, quite dramatically too.

Shingun gave him a sideways glance. “Do you appreciate her?”

“That’s not the point.”

That got a small laugh out of him. Hoseong continued anyway, telling him about the amount of food his sister was apparently planning to make and how his brother’s kids would probably spend most of the day running around the house. There would be some stupid board game after dinner, according to him, followed by everybody arguing over what to watch. It sounded chaotic in the ordinary way family gatherings were chaotic, and Hoseong didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. If anything, there was something comfortable in the way he complained about them, like he’d already accepted that this was simply how Christmas was supposed to be.

“You really like Christmas that much?” Shingun asked eventually.

Hoseong looked at him as though the question itself was strange. “I mean, yeah. It’s nice. Everybody’s actually around for once.”

Shingun didn’t answer immediately. He looked across the street instead, where a department store had decorated its windows with lights and fake snow. People were still going in and out despite the cold, most of them carrying boxes or brightly wrapped bags.

For Shingun, Christmas had never really meant much. It was a date on the calendar, another day when businesses closed early and people disappeared into their homes. He’d never had much reason to look forward to it, so the whole thing still felt somewhat foreign whenever December came around.

Hoseong noticed the silence and glanced at him. “What about you? You really just going to sit at home?”

“Maybe.”

“You got somebody there, though, don’t you?”

Shingun looked at him to which Hoseong’s mouth twitched into a knowing smile. “I’m just asking.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Shingun rolled his eyes and finished the last of his food, crumpling the paper around it before tossing it into the bin beside the van. He didn’t bother correcting Hoseong. There wasn’t really anything to correct anymore, not when the answer was sitting in the back of his mind every time he thought about going home. Hoseong seemed satisfied enough with that as he took another drag of his cigarette and looked out toward the street, where the first few flakes of snow were beginning to drift down again.

“Then at least do something,” he said. “You don’t get time off very often.”

Shingun shrugged, though he knew Hoseong was right. He’d been thinking about that too. He rubbed his hands together for warmth, glancing up at the grey sky as the snow started to come down a little heavier. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with a whole week of free time. He’d spent enough years making his own schedule around work, sleep, cars and whatever problem happened to land in front of him that having nothing demanding his attention felt almost suspicious.

Hoseong seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “You could at least go somewhere. You and Blondie doing anything?”

Shingun looked at him. Hoseong didn’t look back. He simply took another drag from his cigarette, eyes following the traffic moving down the street as though he’d asked the most ordinary question in the world. “I don’t know,” Shingun said eventually, “Haven’t asked.”

“You haven’t asked?”

“There’s still a few days.”

Hoseong hummed, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. He knew enough about Blondie to know that Shingun spent a suspicious amount of time around him, but he’d never actually asked what the hell was going on between them. Whatever it was, Shingun clearly wasn’t interested in explaining it, and Hoseong wasn’t interested in forcing him to. Instead, he nodded toward the shops across the street. “You buying him anything?”

Shingun’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

“I’m curious.”

“Don’t be.”

Hoseong laughed quietly. “I’m just saying. Christmas is coming.”

“I know.”

“Jake does seem like the type who’d buy himself whatever he wants anyway.”

“He is.”

“So you got him something?”

Shingun hesitated for just a fraction too long. Hoseong noticed and to be frank, he didn’t really say anything about it. Shingun looked away, watching people hurry past with their collars pulled up against the cold. “Yeah.”

Hoseong nodded slowly, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Thought so.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Shingun gave him a suspicious look, but Hoseong was already looking down the street again. After a moment, Shingun muttered, “It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You’re making a face.”

“I always make this face.”

“No, you don’t.”

Hoseong laughed, and Shingun shook his head. They stayed there a little longer, neither of them bothering to fill the silence. Hoseong eventually glanced at his watch and sighed. “I’ve got to go. My sister wants me to pick something up before I get there.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

He started walking, then looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t spend your whole holiday working on some car.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Shingun watched him disappear into the crowd, then looked back toward the shops. He thought ‘2 days until Christmas.’

December 24th:

Shingun had gotten used to waking up warm, which was probably the strangest thing about the life he had ended up with. For most of his life, sleep had simply been sleep; something he did because his body needed it, preferably somewhere quiet and reasonably comfortable, without ever expecting another person to be there when he opened his eyes. Now, more often than not, he woke with the warmth of a muscular American man pressed somewhere against him, Jake’s arm thrown lazily across his waist or his body stretched out beside him beneath the blankets, taking up far more room than he had any right to. Shin had never asked for it, never really talked about it, but at some point the warmth had become familiar enough that he noticed its absence immediately. That was what woke him that morning.

The room was cold in the particular way winter mornings were cold, despite the heating still running, and Shin remained half-buried beneath the blankets for a moment with his eyes closed, vaguely expecting to feel Jake’s body beside him if he shifted closer. His hand moved across the mattress almost automatically, searching for warmth, only to meet a patch of cool, empty sheets. He frowned and opened his eyes, staring at the other side of the bed. The curtains were pale with the grey light of morning, and beyond them snow was falling steadily over the city, thick enough that the buildings across the street looked slightly blurred through the window.

“Jake?” There was no answer.

Shin lifted his head from the pillow and looked toward the bedroom doorway, still waiting for the obvious explanation to present itself. Maybe Jake was in the bathroom. Maybe he’d gotten up early and was making coffee. He pushed himself out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt, then walked through the apartment checking each room with increasing confusion. The bathroom was empty, the kitchen was empty, and the living room was empty too. Jake’s shoes weren’t by the door, his coat was gone, and there wasn’t even the usual newspaper sitting folded on the coffee table.

Shin stood in the middle of the living room for a while, looking around as though Jake might suddenly materialise from somewhere simply because he’d been sufficiently annoyed by the situation.

“What the hell?”

He checked the table for a note and found nothing. He looked beside the telephone, then on the kitchen counter, then even opened the drawer where Jake occasionally left things when he didn’t want them lying around. Nothing. There was no message, no explanation, no indication of where he’d gone or whether he intended to come back soon.

It wasn’t unusual for Jake to disappear. Although he avoided working, especially after the Ross fiasco, his work still had made that a fact of life and Shin had long since learned that there were times when asking questions only resulted in more questions. But Jake usually told him something first, even if it was only a vague warning that he’d be out for a while. This was different enough to bother him, although Shin refused to let himself think too deeply about why.

He rubbed his face, glanced toward the window again, and finally decided that standing around waiting wasn’t going to accomplish anything. If Jake wanted to vanish on Christmas Eve without saying a word, that was his problem. Shin had his own things to worry about, and one of those things was breakfast.

The kitchen gradually filled with the familiar sounds of him moving around, cupboards opening and closing as he searched for something worth eating. He put together a simple breakfast without much thought, cooking while the snow continued to accumulate outside and the apartment slowly warmed around him. There was something almost annoyingly peaceful about the morning, especially considering the fact that he was supposed to be annoyed. Christmas Eve had a strange effect on the city; even from inside the apartment, Shin could feel the difference. People were staying home, shops were closing earlier, families were travelling across the city to see each other, and the usual noise outside seemed muted beneath the snow.

He sat at the kitchen table and ate alone. Every so often his eyes drifted toward the empty chair across from him. It was stupid, really. Jake had only been gone for a few hours, and Shin knew perfectly well that the man was capable of looking after himself. There was no reason to keep wondering where he’d gone, but the lack of explanation bothered him in a way he couldn’t quite dismiss. Jake was usually predictable in his own strange way. He liked his routines, he liked knowing what was happening, and when he disappeared for work there was normally some reason behind it.

This felt deliberate. Shin finished his breakfast, washed the plate and pan, then wiped down the counter before wandering back into the living room. He picked up the newspaper Jake had left behind the previous evening and folded it properly, then caught himself looking at the chair where Jake normally sat. He could practically picture him there, glasses on, one ankle resting over his knee as he read through the paper with that irritatingly serious expression he wore whenever he was concentrating.

Shin dropped the newspaper back onto the table. “Fuckin’ bastard. Running off elsewhere, hm?” There was no real heat behind it.

He spent the next couple of hours finding things to do. He cleaned the apartment more thoroughly than necessary, folded laundry that had already been folded once, rearranged a few things in the kitchen and finally fixed the loose hinge on one of the cabinets that had been bothering him for weeks. Every task was accompanied by the quiet awareness that he was doing it because he didn’t want to sit down and wait.

By midday, he had run out of excuses. Shin stood at the window with a mug of coffee in his hand, watching snow pile along the edges of the pavement. The street below was quieter than usual, and the people who were outside hurried along beneath umbrellas and heavy coats. Somewhere farther down the block, a car struggled through the snow before its tires finally caught the road again, and the sound of an elevated train drifted faintly between the buildings.

By the late afternoon, Shin had accepted that Jake was probably not coming home anytime soon, although he still found himself glancing toward the window every few minutes as though the man might somehow appear on the pavement below. He had tried sitting down with the newspaper, but reading the same paragraph three times without taking in any of it eventually annoyed him enough that he put it aside and decided to go outside for some air. He pulled on his boots and a heavy jacket, wrapped a scarf loosely around his neck, and headed downstairs, telling himself that a walk would do him good and that he absolutely was not going to spend the rest of Christmas Eve sitting around waiting for somebody who had apparently decided he didn’t need to explain himself.

The snow had gotten heavier since morning, covering the parked cars and turning the pavements into uneven slush. Shin shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked, keeping his head slightly lowered against the cold while he made his way down the block. The city looked different beneath the snow. The usual grime was hidden beneath a clean layer of white, traffic moved more slowly than usual, and the people who were still outside seemed to have somewhere specific to be, hurrying home with bags tucked under their arms and coats pulled tightly around themselves. Shin wasn’t going anywhere in particular, which was probably why he noticed the car.

It was parked awkwardly near the curb a little farther down the street, angled slightly toward the road with its hood raised. A man stood beside it looking increasingly frustrated, occasionally attempting something under the hood before stepping back and staring at the engine as if it had personally offended him. Shin slowed without meaning to. He kept walking and then he stopped.

His shoulders dropped as he looked back at the car. “No.”

The driver glanced over. “Something wrong?”

“With the car? Yeah.”

The man gave him a confused look, and Shin immediately regretted stopping in the first place. He could already feel himself getting dragged into it, and the last thing he had promised himself was that he wasn’t going to work during his time off. He had spent enough years fixing other people’s problems at Lump Spark; for once, he had absolutely no reason to crawl under a freezing engine on Christmas Eve.

He looked at the car again. There was a particular sound an engine made when something wasn’t right, and Shin had heard enough of them to know that whatever was wrong here probably wasn’t going to fix itself.

He sighed. “Pop the hood properly.”

The man blinked. “You know cars?”

“Fortunately.”

Shin crouched beside the front of the car, brushing snow away from one of the components while the owner hovered nearby. The problem wasn’t especially complicated, but the cold made everything harder, with his fingers stiffening inside his gloves and snow collecting on his shoulders as he worked. He muttered to himself while checking the obvious things first, eventually finding the issue and explaining what needed to be adjusted before the car would start properly. The whole thing was irritatingly familiar.

For a moment, Shin wasn’t standing on a snow-covered New York street at all. He was younger, rougher around the edges, still living with the assumption that helping someone was simply something you did because you knew how. He remembered the first time he’d met Jake, although the memory had never become any less ridiculous with age: a broken-down car, Shin stopping because he couldn’t walk past a problem without fixing it and then somehow ending up arrested because the situation had been connected to something far bigger than he understood at the time.

He could still remember the confusion of it, the anger and the complete lack of understanding about why he’d suddenly become somebody else’s problem. And then Jake had appeared, somehow calm in the middle of everything, getting him out of trouble with that infuriating confidence of his. Shin had thought Jake was an asshole. To be honest, he still thinks Jake is an asshole. The difference was that now he happened to like the asshole.

“Try it.”

The driver climbed into the car and turned the key. The engine coughed once before finally catching, settling into a rough but steady idle. The man’s face immediately brightened. “Holy shit. It works.”

Shin stood, wiping his hands against his jacket. “Yeah. Don’t turn it off again until you get somewhere warm.”

“Thank you, seriously. I was starting to think I’d be stuck here all night.”

Shin gave a dismissive shrug, already stepping away. “Merry Christmas.”

He had barely taken three steps when he heard a familiar voice behind him.”You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

Shin stopped as he knew that deep voice. Turning slowly, he spotted Jake standing on the other side of the street, dressed for the weather in a dark coat, snow resting on his shoulders and buzzcut hair. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked entirely too amused for somebody who had vanished from the apartment without leaving so much as a note. Shin stared at him and Jake smiled. For several seconds, neither of them said anything.

Then Shin looked toward the car, then back at Jake, his expression flattening as the pieces finally started fitting together. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Jake crossed the street, taking his time as he approached. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

Jake stopped in front of him, looking down at the snow-covered mechanic who had somehow managed to spend his day off doing exactly what he’d promised he wouldn’t do. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “But first, you should probably come with me.”

Shin narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Jake’s smile widened slightly. “Because I’ve got something to show you.”

Shin stared at him for another moment, suspicion written plainly across his face, but underneath it was something else now too: the faint realisation that Jake hadn’t disappeared for work, hadn’t gotten himself into trouble, and probably hadn’t forgotten about Christmas Eve at all. He glanced back at the car he’d just repaired and then at Jake. “You planned this?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I swear.”

As they were talking to the unkown destination, Jake was beside him a few feet away, snow dusting his coat and blond hair, looking irritatingly fine for someone who had vanished without a word on Christmas Eve. Shin stared at him and whatever relief had flashed across his face disappeared almost immediately beneath the anger that had been building all day.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jake glanced at Shin’s snow covered self then his mismatched eyes. “Nice to see you too, Shingun.”

“Don’t.” Shin dropped the rag he was using for that car onto the floor and walked toward him, his expression hardening. “Seriously, don’t start with that. You disappeared this morning.”

“I went out.”

“No shit, I figured that part out.”

Jake’s mouth twitched, but Shin wasn’t having it. He had spent the entire morning trying not to worry, and now that Jake was standing right in front of him, perfectly alive and apparently amused by the whole thing, the relief only made the anger worse.

“You could’ve left a note,” Shin said, quieter now but somehow more serious. “Anything. A piece of paper. Two words. Whatever. I woke up and you were gone, and there wasn’t even a fucking sign that you’d left.”

Jake’s expression changed slightly at that, the teasing fading from his eyes, but he still didn’t rush into an apology. He looked at Shin for a moment then shrugged his shoulders like he was trying to make the whole thing smaller than it was. “I figured you’d be asleep.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I know.”

Shin exhaled sharply and rubbed a hand over his face. “You know what? Forget it. Just… don’t do that again. I don’t care if you’re going somewhere. Just let me know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

There was a pause. Jake looked at him for another second before reaching into his coat pocket. “Come here.”

Shin frowned. “Why?”

“Just come here.”

“I’ve already had enough surprises today.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Jake turned and started walking toward the small garage behind him and Shin followed reluctantly, still suspicious and still irritated enough that he wasn’t about to let Jake off easily. The garage door was halfway open, yellow light spilling across the snow and Jake reached up to pull it the rest of the way.

Then Shin stopped. Inside was an old car.

It wasn’t flashy, and it wasn’t new. In fact, the thing looked like it belonged in another decade entirely, with its dark paint, long hood, chrome details, and the kind of solid shape that made Shin’s attention lock onto it before he could stop himself. He stared at it, completely silent, his anger momentarily forgotten as his eyes moved over every detail.

Jake leaned against the doorframe, watching him. “I found it a few weeks ago,” he said. “It needed work. Figured you could do whatever you want with it.”

Shin slowly walked closer. His fingers hovered over the hood before finally settling against the cold metal. He looked through the window, then at the wheels, then back toward the front of the car, taking in every little thing with an expression Jake had probably never seen on him before.

“You got this?”

“For you.”

Shin turned around. Jake tossed him a set of keys. He caught them automatically, staring down at them for a second before looking back at the car. The realization seemed to hit him all at once: Jake had been gone all morning because of this. He’d found the car weeks ago, apparently kept it hidden, had it brought here, gotten it sorted out, and somehow managed to keep the entire thing secret without Shin noticing.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Shin murmured, but there was no anger left in his voice.

Shin looked at him, then at the keys in his hand, and his expression softened completely. He stepped closer, caught Jake by the front of his coat and kissed him again, letting it linger for a few quiet seconds. He kissed him so deeply, just like how they kissed when they were reunited again after his poor brother’s death, however, unlike that time, Christmas was a happy time to celebrate. There was still a trace of disbelief in the way Shin held onto him like he hadn’t quite gotten over the fact that Jake had actually done all this for him. As they parted their blushed faces away, unable to decipher if it was from the chilly cold or their affection, Shin stayed close forehead almost touching Jake’s and let out a small laugh.

“You really went all out, huh?” Shin muttered, looking far too pleased with himself. “Keep doing shit like this and you’re gonna make me look bad.”

Jake’s mouth curved into a grin. “Thought you didn’t care about Christmas.”

“I don’t.”

“Sure.”

Shin rolled his eyes, then reached into his coat. “Whatever. I got you something too.”

That caught Jake off guard. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Shin pulled out the neatly wrapped package he’d bought a few days earlier, holding it out with an almost sheepish expression. “It’s a vintage silver lighter. Got your initials put on it.”

Jake took it, looking down at the package before glancing back at Shin. “You had my initials put on it?”

“Yeah. Don’t make it weird.”

Jake laughed softly, turning the little package over in his hands. “I wasn’t going to.”

“You were.”

“Maybe.”

Shin smiled, then slipped the keys safely into his pocket and looked once more at the car before turning back to Jake. “Thank you.”

The words came out simple, but Shin meant them. He looked down at the keys again, then back at the car, and his smile returned. “Really. I fucking love it.”

Jake nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

Shin stepped closer and gave him a quick, warm hug, holding on for a moment longer than usual before pulling away. He looked embarrassed about it almost immediately, so he covered it by pointing toward the car.

“We’re taking this out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Christmas morning?”

“Obviously.”

Jake laughed. “You’re not even going to let me sleep in?”

“Nope. I still have a Christmas present for you in bed.”, to which Jake classically smirked at.

Shin looked at the car again, still smiling to himself. For once in his life, he didn’t care that it was Christmas, or that it was supposed to be some special holiday, or that he’d spent most of his life barely noticing his own birthdays or holidays at all. Jake had remembered something he loved, had found something that suited him and had gone out of his way to make it his. To him, that meant more than Shin really knew how to say. He slipped the keys safely into his pocket and looked at Jake again.

“Merry Christmas Jay.”

Jake smiled. “Merry Christmas Shingun.”