Archive of Our Own

On Christmas morning, Changmin woke to a pair of lips around his cock.

It should have been disturbingly alarming and usually, Changmin was not an easy man, but his brain was slow to make sense, and he hadn’t been able to get off once since his boyfriend had to leave on a sudden business trip to Jeju a week ago and he wondered faintly if this was another one of those too vivid porno dreams.

The lights were still off, the room was dim, and someone was still moving over him, and he thought he should be panicking or something because this didn’t feel like a dream, so he should be tossing sheets and turning on lights, but—

“Nngh,”

But he was so hard, so maybe he should let it be a little longer?

There was a movement in the dark and Changmin vaguely wondered how much of this he had slept through that his balls felt like they might shrivel and drop if he didn’t cum soon.

He moaned softly, and finally gathered enough self possession to blindly reach for the bedside table and flick on the reading light. The sudden influx of light made him wince, but he blinked twice to clear it, and looked down, where a dark haired head bobbed between his legs, a flash of playful, blown dark eyes, and his dick gave a very healthy throb at the sight.

Oh, Changmin thought dumbly as Jaejoong climbed over him with a predatory smile, and sat down directly on his erection.

Well, it looks like boyfriend is home.

Jaejoong moaned, quietly, obscenely, as he wrapped his arms around Changmin’s neck and licked at the sharp contour of Changmin’s jaw.

That was all the warning Changmin got before he was sliding into somewhere tight and familiarly warm, swearing as he did so because his stomach tightened dangerously.

He gripped Jaejoong’s waist, leaving bruises, and rolled his hips like he was helpless against it, pushing in so easy and familiar, the suffocating heat around his dick felt like homecoming no matter how many times they did it.

He didn’t get in more than an inch but Jaejoong swore, tensing up against the intrusion and unable to help otherwise and Changmin just realized fuck, Jaejoong didn’t use lube.

“Okay?” He asked, being considerate, as if it could be okay, could stop if Jaejoong said stop.

(He would. He absolutely would.)

“So fucking okay,” Jaejoong gasped, legs tightening, nails cutting tiny half moons on Changmin’s shoulder blades. “Come on, Changmin-ah, move—”

Jaejoong squirmed impatiently, as if trying to make a point, and rocked forward on his tailbone, a direct contact of hips-on-hips, and Changmin’s mouth dropped open a little. He propelled upward, nerves singed.

His brain was sending mixed signals—Morse codes really—down south, reminding him that his boyfriend was a little dry, that it was a little raw, and Jaejoong kind of rolled on his dick again—oh, fuck it.

The first thrust was deep, but not enough, but still hard, but Jaejoong’s head rolled back anyway. Every deeper-than-the-last fuck rattled Jaejoong’s orgasm and pushed him further into oblivion.

“Fuck,” Changmin hissed, pumping faster and dragging his cock against the constricting walls.

He pushed the sole of his feet against the mattress and fucked harder into Jaejoong, pace bruising and rigid, probing so deep that Jaejoong could feel him up in his stomach. Changmin scooted a little higher, back muscles rippling, and Jaejoong’s voice came out in a startled gasp when he thrust particularly hard, the blunt head of his cock nudging against that oh so wonderful spot inside him.

“Oh, oh, Changmin-ah—fuck, nnh, Min, fuck, fuck me, again, please, harder, again again, oh fuck, give it to me.” Jaejoong moaned, soft gasping sounds that kind of drove Changmin a little crazy, fingers grappling on Changmin’s slippery chest and nails scraping against Changmin’s dusky nipples.

The line of his body was tense, high-strung, as he tried every trick he could think of to make Changmin fuck him harderdeeper—please—faster.

Jaejoong winced when Changmin’s hips stuttered, losing rhythm, losing breath, until Changmin had to take it slower the rest of the way, lest his heart rate accelerate to a medically dangerous level, because fuck, if Jaejoong kept doing that thing with his hips and making those goddamn noises, he swore he was going to OD on pure endorphin.

Changmin clenched his eyes shut, feeling feverish, sweat dripping on his nape and forehead as he bucked upward, causing Jaejoong to gasp and slip, being bounced like a rag doll on Changmin’s lap.

Drool trickled out the side of Jaejoong’s succulent, puffy mouth as he sobbed from the pleasure that zinged through him, unable to do much but take, hands fluttering on Changmin’s broad, slick shouders.

Jaejoong moaned, loud and brazen, “Changmin-ah, more—”

“Nnh, ah, Jaejoong… hyung-ah—”

Changmin held the thin waist down, not pulling out or doing anything until Jaejoong protested by means of pulling Changmin’s left nipple and twisting it until the younger man hissed in pain.

Changmin did not take the bait, instead slowly rotating his hips, just rocking inside in a circular, slow motion, until Jaejoong was trashing, begging, “Min, Min-ah… no, don’t tease—baby, please don’t tease. Fuck me—” and cumcumpleasebabycum.

And shit, really, what a man was to do when asked so nicely.

He pulled out, provoking all manners of murderous protests as he flipped them over and pinned Jaejoong down on the bed before driving in, ramming inside and against Jaejoong’s prostate until the older man was cooing incoherently in his ears and everything just spiralled into a blurred mesh of skin tight physical sensations that dragged them both to the far edge and left them there without bail.

“Oh, shit—”

“Do it, come in me—”

“Can’t—” Nngh, “I’m gonna—”

Changmin bucked one more time and felt his limbs grew taut, his body a live wire, as his thighs shook and threatened to give out. The slow, familiar burn pooling in the pit of his belly amassed, he just needed that last push over the edge—

Jaejoong whined, his body going into spasms.

—and then Changmin was coming so hard, his vision spotted like a goddamn Dalmatian on something happy.

“Shit, shit,” he breathed, fingers coiling and twisting in soft, black tendrils of Jaejoong’s hair, pulling and tipping Jaejoong’s head so he could mesh their lips together, wet and all teeth and tongues down the other’s throat.

Jaejoong wiggled, blinking blearily, needing to come. “Hurry up,” He was pouting, as if someone so blotchy pink with arousal could afford to be huffy, reaching around and slapping Changmin’s shoulders, pulling faces that were somehow half-erotic, half-endearing.

Changmin breathed noisily through his teeth and pulled out, before he slithered down the length of Jaejoong’s body.

Jaejoong shoved his fist into his mouth to muffle his moans; the heat of Changmin’s wicked mouth pulled him off certain gravity and into Changmin’s.

Changmin bobbed his head, sucking hard and stroking long, fingers pressing into that tight, sensitive skin behind Jaejoong’s full balls, working his taint without respite before his tongue trailed lower, flattening against pink wrinkled pout of Jaejoong’s entrance and Jaejoong’s hardworking hips ground back against his face, smearing it with shared cum.

Jaejoong’s scream was cut halfway, fighting for air in lungs, because it was not enough. When Changmin shoved two fingers into him, twisting them around wickedly, scraping nails against the damp walls and curling just a little to the right like that before pushing his tongue in beside his tongue, Jaejoong wailed loud enough to wake the next block, grabbing on Changmin’s hair and pushing his head down, and then Jaejoong was coming into the back of his throat.

Still coming down from his high, Jaejoong pulled Changmin up for, what he called, a proper good morning kiss, sucking on tongues and twirling leisurely, like they had all the time in the world.

They pulled away and Jaejoong smiled up lazily, stretching his arms above Changmin’s head. “Good morning, Changminnie.”

Changmin puffed his cheeks, “What was that all about? And when did you come back?” He rubbed Jaejoong’s cheeks with his thumbs, worrying the colour there, “You said the client wanted to postpone the meeting until today at two? I told you that I could’ve picked you up. We don’t need another traumatized taxi driver on our hands like last Christmas.”

Jaejoong smiled wider at Changmin’s nagging, his personal brand of mothering.

“Hmm, I called a bunch of people and yelled until they got me the patent I wanted before Christmas tea time.” Jaejoong said, stroking Changmin’s bed hair and pressed a soft kiss on the damp forehead. “I wasn’t about to be stuck alone in Jeju on Christmas day with bald, capitalist assholes.”

”You’re a capitalist asshole,” Changmin said, earning himself a whack to the shoulder for his cheek.

Jaejoong paused, and then sighed.

“I heard some kids singing carols on the street on the way to the venue and I just thought about you all of a sudden. I felt guilty leaving you alone during holidays, and our anniversary, so I told my assistants that they could kiss their Christmas bonuses goodbye if it didn’t settle by last night. I took the earliest flight back after that.”

“… That could be classified as labour abuse, you know?”

“You’re so sexy when you get all lawyer on me.”

“I’m a judicial scrivener. Not a lawyer.”

“Same difference. Still sexy.”

Changmin would be lying if he said he wasn’t touched and felt himself hardening a little at the thought (well, it might be just because he had been horny all week and Jaejoong was so conveniently under him but it was still touching), and just as he was about to turn Jaejoong again for round two, Mangdongie suddenly jumped on Changmin’s back with a shrill yip, startling them both.

Changmin fell sideway and rolled off the bed with a loud thud in a tangle of sheets while Jaejoong squealed when Mangdongie shuffled and sniffed excitedly towards him, raining tiny licks on Jaejoong’s face, evidently happy that her other, more doting master was finally home.

Jaejoong cuddled the tiny Maltese to his chest, cooing at her before pulling a blanket around his body. He wriggled to the end of the bed in a series of caterpillar motions, peeking at his scowling boyfriend, who was rubbing his bum on the carpeted floor.

“Changminnie, you okay?” Jaejoong raised one of Mangdongie’s paws like playing puppet and the puppy barked excitedly, sticking her tongue out.

“No, The Changmin is not okay. I hate you both.” Changmin sniffed, as he stood up groggily and trudged to the bathroom.

Jaejoong’s laughter floated up from the bed where he laid playing airplane with Mangdongie, bubbling with his baby talk and make-believe noises at the Maltese.

Changmin grinned as he closed the bathroom door.

Jaejoong was home.

-

-

10:34 AM, 23rd September 2004
Meeting You Was like Fate’s Little Surprise Box

[“Yeoboseyo, Kim Jaejoong-ssi?”]

Jaejoong blinked and pulled his phone away to see the name on his phone screen, fumbling when the phone slipped from his ring-and-pinkie fingers’ grasp because his six other fingers were slathered with burger grease and fries salt.

It was an unknown number, with an unfamiliar voice. It knows his legal name. This was a situation at a 24-hour burger place and Jaejoong wasn’t sure on what to do.

Ever since he and his second youngest sister nearly got kidnapped when he was in second grade and one of his middle sisters disappeared with her boyfriend when Jaejoong was ten, Mama Kim took a Nazi approach concerning her babies and their general safety from everything, including teenage self-inflicted hazards and angst, from obsessing over their phone directory, haranguing on their curfew, to harassing their friends that she didn’t know or like.

Jaejoong and his sisters loved her, really. Well, most of the time. Mama Kim could be a little much.

She always told them to never talk to strangers, especially Jaejoong, who was her only baby boy and unfortunately, had a weakness for candies from strangers.

Was this considered as talking to strangers?

Jaejoong hesitated, biting on his lip, “Yeoboseyo? Who’s this?” He felt like a deviant going behind Mama Kim’s back.

[“Ah, so you haven’t changed your number. Good, I was afraid you did.”] The voice on the other line said, polite, crisp, like ice but not cold. Jaejoong decided that he rather liked the voice. [“I’m calling from Zion, by the way.”]

Jaejoong swallowed his pickles with difficulties. “… Zion?” He echoed, calling in blank.

The voice replied back, still painfully polite, but somehow Jaejoong could already imagine the eye-rolling behind it, [“The DVD rental down at Apgujeong? Next to the chicken shop, across from Burger King?”]

It took Jaejoong ten seconds to remember where it was. Well, vaguely.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m calling to remind you that you still have a couple of DVDs to return on our record,” the voice said over the sound of shuffling papers, [“Sixteen of them actually.”] Jaejoong tried to recall which was what and just where the fuck did he left these so-called DVDs. [“From three years ago.”]

“… Oh.”

There was a quiet rustling noise over the receiver. Like a snort. Yeah, definitely snort. [“Yeah, and the overdue interest has already accumulated to…”] There was a distinct click-clack of a calculator being punched, [“five-hundred-eighty-two-thousand won.”]

Jaejoong squeaked then whimpered, “F-Five-hundred—?”

This time, the voice sounded amused. A little annoyed maybe, but mostly amused. [“So can you please come down here and settle it already? I really need to sort everything out. I’ll be expecting you sometime within this week then.”] There was a soft tapping, clear tinkling of a pen against a ceramic coffee mug.

The then-blond, broke-ass college student Jaejoong spluttered, but the other end of the line had already hung up before he could say anything.

Jaejoong proceeded to call everyone on his phone directory to borrow money.

- - - - -

Shim Changmin, sixteen, wasn’t sure what to make of Kim Jaejoong.

When he first saw him, stumbling into the DVD rental where Changmin worked part-time, wide-eyed, flustered, blond and pale-skinned, he looked nothing like the demure, black-and-white photocopied picture of his student card from a three years old record.

But then again, Changmin was sure there were a couple of needlessly gory slasher movies and AVs somewhere in his record, for all his angelic countenance. Out of morbid curiosity, Changmin had run through the database for what kind of AV was checked out by someone like Kim Jaejoong.

There was only one standard issue porn from the year before, the vanilla stuff. There rest were catalogued in the G-section.

G, because it stood for gay porn.

Hoookay, Changmin’s eyebrow climbed higher and higher the more he learned about Kim Jaejoong.

So Changmin wasn’t surprised when Kim Jaejoong waltzed in wearing red high-top sneakers with neon-coloured laces, pre-shredded skinnies, the kind made to look old, over some huge, oversized water-coloured sweater, and smudged navy eyeliners. His ears were pierced and pink lips were pouted with faded glittery lip-gloss.

Changmin wasn’t sure why he was even noticing that either.

Then Jaejoong saw him, for some reason tripping on something invisible on the floor, before shuffling to Changmin’s desk.

“U-Umm, I’m Kim Jaejoong?” He blinked, “I mean, I’m Kim Jaejoong. Umm, I received a call earlier about—”

“Did you bring the DVDs?” Changmin said, cutting him short.

For some reason though, Jaejoong’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re that voice from yesterday!” He looked as happy as a puppy with a new chew toy by the revelation. Why? “Your voice was so nice! I mean is! Is! You sound like you could be, you know, a singer or something, like my friend Junsu, but he sounded more like a dolphin, and he’s so bossy and annoying sometimes—” He paused, looked guilty, then added very quickly, “Oh, but he’s sooo nice too he lent me money—but yours is—”

Changmin didn’t know what to do with such a direct, chaotic compliment, so he just stared.

“Oh sorry,” Jaejoong said suddenly, looking sheepish, “People said I left my mouth-brain filter at home, kept it in a box somewhere, and forgot where I put it so—”

“I’m sure.” Changmin replied, not missing a beat before taking out a file and a pen from his drawer. “So you’ll be paying in cash or—”

“What’s your name?”

Changmin paused, “—credit.”

Jaejoong frowned, “… That’s, umm… an interesting name. I’m sure it’s meaningful though.”

Changmin rolled his eyes again, “My name is Shim Changmin,” He cleared his throat, unsure why he had taken to introduce himself. “So cash or credit.”

“Oh, cash…” Jaejoong mumbled, taking out everything in his pocket, including the emergency pizza money stapled on his dorm’s fridge, combined with what he managed to borrow after a series of pitiful begging and horribly scarring favour promises from Junsu and Yoochun and Yunho and he was still short of eight-thousand won, because apparently, he was missing two videos and he had to pay the penalty for that too.

He looked like he would cry, so Changmin took pity of him and told him to forget about the eight-thousand won because he would pitch it in for him. Jaejoong was so touched that he looked even closer to crying, which was honestly scaring Changmin a little.

“You’re so nice,” He sniffed, “How old are you?”

Changmin regarded his question cautiously, “… I’m an ‘88 born.”

The blond boy perked up, pointing at himself with a bright smile, and to Changmin’s further horror, squealed, “Oh, you’re my dongsaeng then!” Yes, Changmin was afraid of that. “Wow, you’re so… um, tall!”

Changmin didn’t know how someone could make a compliment sound so complicatedly awkward.

- - - - -

Two days later, after Changmin’s shift at the store ended, somehow he found himself sitting across from the bubbly blond at Coffee Cojjee.

Jaejoong’s friend Junsu—the same one who lent him money and sounded like a strangled species of water mammal—worked there, so they got a free latte on the house, because even though Jaejoong said that he wanted to treat Changmin, he was kind of broke and was short of eight-thousand won in his bank account and Junsu kind of pitied him for it.

Kim Jaejoong was a flurry of whimsical force and was very easily distracted, and never seemed to run out of awkward things to say. He’d had Changmin surrendering his number within the fifteen minutes of knowing him.

(“I will never forget this debt until I die,” Jaejoong said, dead serious.

“Please forget it.” Changmin replied, “It’s eight-thousand won.”

Changmin thought Jaejoong was painfully embarrassing).

Jaejoong became even more annoying when he found out that Changmin was going to his college, which surprised Changmin into a minor choking fit, because the space cadet honestly didn’t look a thing like he could be a student from the nation’s top business school.

But then, as Changmin savoured the hot drink warming his hand, and the loud, vibrant voice of one Kim Jaejoong, who was all smiles and flailing hand motions that looked nearly dangerous, babbling about one thing—

(“So Vick is really biiig, I’m not sure where I went wrong in raising him,”)

—before he got side-tracked by another thing—

(“Yoochun’s forehead is really biiig too, but I didn’t raise him.”)

Changmin decided that it wasn’t so bad.

-

-

09:14 AM, 25th December
Jingle Bells – It’s Christmas Time in the City

Jaejoong looked absolutely ridiculous—ly round and soft—drowning in the fabric of Changmin’s old parka that was huge on him, with the faux-fur hood pulled over his soft, mused hair, a cherry red muffler, that was Yunho’s last year’s attempt at a knitting hobby, wrapped around his neck, and a pair of cute electric blue short Ugg snow boots.

His cheeks were apple red from the cold, bee-stung lips—pursed cutely, poised for a close-up photo anytime—were split slightly from smiling and made wet by sharp red tongue, berry flavoured honey pot lip balm already long gone from Changmin’s impromptu kisses, the younger man’s cracks of martyrdom in shutting him up, from when they were tying their shoes.

“Uwaaa, it’s so cold, so cold~” Jaejoong bubbled across their yard from here to there, patting on his cheeks, looking as excited as a toddler one third his height and even lesser physical age.

Changmin made a noncommittal grunt because he was still sleepy and it was too cold out, but Jaejoong had a shopping date with the supermarket and he’d promised convincing, worldly pains to Changmin if he refused to come along and carry his things.

He made another grunt, louder this time, when he banged his forehead on the door on his way out, the impact knocking his non-prescription glasses askew—he already wore contacts, but Jaejoong liked seeing him in glasses, so—and made his eyes water, but at least he was awake now.

He tried to act unaffected out of embarrassment, but Jaejoong was too distracted breathing puff rings in the cold air to notice Changmin’s undignified little run in with the door. Changmin kicked the door shut out of pettiness. It only hurt his toe instead. Damn it.

“Changmin-ah~” Jaejoong sing-songed, waving him frantically over.

Changmin tried to hide a smile against his boyfriend’s adorableness with a yawn, resisting the urge to rub his forehead or toe lest Jaejoong found out about the damn door bullying him, when Jaejoong suddenly squatted down and palmed a handful of snow, moulding it like a rice ball.

He turned around to face Changmin, grinning so wide, his lips split again and bled a little this time. He looked almost mischievously cute, but mostly just creepy.

Changmin shot him a warning glare. “No. Don’t even think about it, Kim. I’m not kid—”

Changmin didn’t know why he even thought that Jaejoong would do as he said because Jaejoong never did. A strangely well-aimed snowball landed between his eyes like a bullet, rattling his vision to white for five seconds. He could only glare at his boyfriend, who had thrown both hands up straight in the air and blinking wide, innocent eyes.

He responded the only way he knew how: a ball for a ball. And if Jaejoong screeched about him playing dirty when he aimed between the legs, Changmin nearly doubled over in hysterics at all the innuendo in his head.

When Jaejoong ran out of breath and realized that he was trapped by Changmin, who had already grabbed Jaejoong by the collar and was shoving fist-sized snowballs into his sweater on the back, he changed tactics and tackled Changmin instead, wrestling him into a snow bank, slapping on Changmin’s arms and chest and shrieking when the younger man dropped the snowballs to violently tickle his sides.

They sprawled in the bank afterwards, chest heaving and sweating under their clothes. Jaejoong’s glossy butter spray-on tan was smudged and Changmin’s hair was covered in white flakes.

Jaejoong opened one eye and tried to kick Changmin, but Changmin was faster and he caught Jaejoong by the ankle, pulling until Jaejoong slid along closer. He sat up, leaning down to peck Jaejoong on the lips and tip of his nose. Jaejoong’s hand reached up into his hair, mussing the brown locks.

Changmin scowled, shaking his head and tickling Jaejoong’s face with the tips of his hair. “You’re getting snow in my hair.”

“You already got snow in your hair, you big baby.” Jaejoong smiled as he nudged Changmin’s chin with his nose. Changmin bit the said nose and rolled off him, standing up before Jaejoong started one-touching him into New Year.

Jaejoong still lay on the snow, and everything was suddenly so calm that Changmin thought his boyfriend had fallen asleep there, because it had happened before and because Jaejoong rarely shut up for more than a minute, before the older man started to flail about on the snow, swinging arms and legs, this way and that, left-and-right.

Jaejoong jumped back up and up-and-down, wriggling the snow off him. He squealed when he saw the winged imprint he left in the bank. “So cute,” He cooed, clutching his cold flushed cheeks into his palms. “Even the snow angel I made is so cute. Aren’t I cute, Changmin-ah? Neh, aren’t I?”

Jaejoong blinked prettily, eyelashes open because he couldn’t wink to save his life, but he put his hands together under his chin to add the cuteness instead.

Changmin stared at him, “I thought we were talking about the snow angel.”

“I’ll poke you in the eyes if you say the snow angel is cuter than me.” Jaejoong said serenely. He handled jealousy like a pro-skater.

“Yah, you made it!” Changmin snapped, incredulous. “And it’s a fucking snow angel! It’s the same no matter who made it!”

Jaejoong suddenly looked hurt, glassy. “Are you saying that my snow angel is not cute? You’re hurting her feelings, Min-ah!”

Changmin rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Come here and I’ll kick your skinny ass.”

Jaejoong stuck his tongue out, being obnoxious and scrambled to get away, but Changmin caught him easily, because Jaejoong tripped over another flat surface, and threw the smaller man over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

Jaejoong laughed so hard when his nose—with the unfading teeth mark—bumped into Changmin’s frozen, jeans clad ass that Changmin nearly dropped him. In the end, Changmin just set him back on the ground before they got into an accident.

The smaller man fluttered away again, this time sitting back on his heels near the bank, “Changmin-ah, let’s make some snowmen!”

Changmin sighed, shaking his head but knowing he’d end up doing what Jaejoong wanted in the end. It made fewer domestic hazards in his love life, and by that extension, less physical ones.

They ended up making one tall, skinny, tipped over snowman with upturned lips and eyes (Jaejoong had very rudely pointed and squeaked, “Snow Prince!”

He put a princess tiara he found from somewhere on the head and used a crow feet twig with the very prominent middle stem as the hand, making one very scandalous snowman.

“It looks like a very, very rude Pisa tower.” Changmin deadpanned) and they made another one with a reverse triangle shape.

Jaejoong added exaggerated, sexy bicep muscles—Changmin commented that it looked bloated, Jaejoong hmmed and palmed Changmin’s face full of snow to shut him up because the artist in Jaejoong was very sensitive—with a girly waist just beside the first snowman, close enough that Jaejoong could wrap his scarf around them so they would look like a couple.

The both of them stepped back and observed the masterpiece.

“They’re missing something.” Jaejoong decided.

They ended up making three more sloppy miniature snow people with bright, happy faces: one with the exaggeratedly voluptuous butt, one with a very tiny head, and one more with chubby cheeks and ahjumma perm.

Jaejoong giggled, breathless and happy with puffed cheeks and glittering gem-like eyes as he moulded something like B-cup appendages on the second miniature snowman. Changmin took out his phone and snapped a series of paparazzi pictures of five relatively happy snowmen plus one Kim Jaejoong.

The older dimpled at his attention, making all sorts of the world’s cutest un-cute faces to compliment his happy snowmen.

Changmin zoomed in on Jaejoong’s face though, black hair sticking around his face and clinging to his pale nape, looking too short of breath but pixel happy and glowing. He secretly set it as his new lock screen wallpaper, his current one was a pouting selca of Kim Jaejoong in the bathroom that the older man kind of hacked and set it himself when Changmin was not looking.

Jaejoong man stood and walked over to Changmin, snatching his Samsung to croon at the pictures, “I always love how you take stalker pictures of me like you’re maaad in love with me when you think I’m not looking.”

Changmin grabbed the phone and popped him on the shoulder hard enough to send Jaejoong to the ground, but did not say anything against the “maaad in love” part.

Jaejoong turned to the snowmen again and smiled.

This time, it was that small, awkward quirk of lips—the smile that didn’t make him looks like a child in a twenty-eight years old skin for once.

It was the same one that Changmin had been stuck on for six years. The other smile, he was stuck for longer.

“I rather wish they could, you know, last longer.” Jaejoong said, wistful. His eyes became a little more gentle, voice a little softer as he dug at the snow with sole of his boot. “They never lasted long enough.”

Changmin pulled him into something like a headlock and rubbed Jaejoong’s cheeks a little worriedly, thinking that despite everything else, Jaejoong was older, worldly, a little more broken with age, tampered by time.

Poignant little things like footprints washed away in sand and snowmen that never lasted made him solemn, over-thinking about life.

“Changminnie?”

“Hmm?”

“I hate things that don’t last.”

Changmin said nothing. He knew Jaejoong’s complex of saying goodbyes better than anyone. There was nothing tragic in his past, but Jaejoong had always been bad with the last hellos and first goodbyes.

“Changminnie?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Changmin turned his eyes, meeting Jaejoong’s. “What do you want me to say? We’re not snowmen, Jaejoong-hyung. We’re not sandcastles either.” He gently knuckled Jaejoong’s forehead, “So try not to think about everything “forever” in two minutes, hyung. You’re dangerous when you try to think.”

It was subtle, but it was there. Forever, Jaejoong liked that cliché. Changmin rarely used meaningless promises such as “forever” and “I love you” and “you’ll use algebra in real life” but when it mattered, Jaejoong also knew that his younger boyfriend was very serious when it concerned “forever” and “I love you” and “algebra.”

So he smiled, and leaned against Changmin’s large, warm touch.

They spent five more minutes staring at the snowmen before Changmin turned around, hands in his jacket pocket, and said, “Come on. Let’s go before it got to noon. You promised to feed me eggnogs and cakes.”

Jaejoong smiled and blew a raspberry at the five snow people before running off after his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Changmin’s neck from behind and attaching himself like a huge, overly affectionate koala.

Changmin staggered from the sudden weight before he looped his long arms under Jaejoong’s knees in a piggyback, regaining his balance, the slow almost romantic walk to the bus station stretching as far they needed like a scene from a movie.

They ignored the curious looks people shot them as they got on the bus with huge wet spots on their clothes and took a seat in the far back. Jaejoong claimed the window seat so he could press his cheeks against the cool surface and puff his breath there to draw stick figures with his finger.

Changmin sat beside him, plugged on his iPod and played his “shopping with Jaejoong” mix, his shuffle landing on Kim Jongkook’s “Loveable,” and took out his pocket-sized Japanese phrase book while his boyfriend plastered himself on the window.

Somewhere five minutes into adjective and indirectly direct subjects, Jaejoong stole one of his earphones and Changmin scowled, but he grabbed Jaejoong’s right hand so he could rub the cold fingers warm.

-

-

09:18 PM, 19th March 2005
It was as easy as breathing – one, two—

Changmin was sitting on the floor in front of the television, long winter-socked legs folded, with a pillow tucked under his arms, bangs tied like a palm tree on top of his head, glasses slipping, and a pepero stick tucked at the corner of his mouth like a smoke, Changmin looked like he was plotting world domination, on caffeine, with a Wii controller.

He was going to beat Junsu’s high score even if it killed him.

Changmin cursed softly when his kart went off track, Princess Peach struggling fussily on the flat screen. He wasn’t sure what caused him to be so distracted when he in second place, but he couldn’t move too much either, because Jaejoong’s head was resting on one of his thighs, fast asleep.

It wasn’t that he was that heavy, but his hair—light brown now—tickled the skin on Changmin’s leg that wasn’t covered by his shorts.

He had been moodily fiddling with Changmin’s iPod earlier, laying his head on Changmin’s thigh because Changmin was ignoring him for a stupid game, but he had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle, the iPod playing Kim Jongkook’s “Lovable” on repeat.

Jaejoong didn’t look like a cliché when he was asleep. He didn’t look like an angel, or a natural disaster like Yunho. He made a few faces here and there, puckering his lips comically or gritting his teeth, but overall, Jaejoong was a quiet sleeper, unlike his awake self, all fluttering eyelashes and occasional, soft murmurs.

It was never boring watching him.

Changmin didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing Jaejoong’s quiet, long breathing when he dreamed. Or his exuberant expressiveness when talking Changmin’s ears off about what he liked and didn’t like, or even his loud, awkward laughter that should’ve annoyed Changmin long ago.

Jaejoong was a ball of chaotic, emotional mess, and quirky contradictions. He appeared shy and a little aloof on sight, sad doe eyes and pursed lips, but at the same time, was very endearingly motherly towards his younger friends and acted like a dependable brother towards girls, even the older ones because he was raised as the youngest boy in a family of eight girls.

He cried buckets during Lion King, but kept on giggling when they watched The Ring (Changmin had closed his eyes throughout the entire ordeal because he was too young to get scarred. Yoochun wasn’t as smart).

He liked to putter in the kitchen cooking when he was angry or happy. He set pictures of baby foxes and days-old kittens as his cell phone background. He could suddenly fall asleep when talking to someone, which surprised Changmin the first time it happened.

He couldn’t do the back flip during gym to save his life, but spent his weekends riding quadbikes and went bungee jumping (the first time Jaejoong strapped the harness and the braided shock cord on his ankles, the younger man nearly went on his knees begging Jaejoong to let him go).

He was a complete blond when talking, senseless and all over the place, but the fact remained that he was one of the best students in the financing and corporate law major, an ambitious merge-broker in the making who passed the bar exam in one-shot, absorbing foreign stock exchanges and numbers like sponge to water.

He had these huge, blown-up posters of a half-naked, sweating, tanned, topless Rain in his bedroom, but said that Junsu, who sometimes sang for a Christmas choir at the church, was his favourite singer in the whole wide world.

He also had this weird way of asking for attention with jump hips attack and taking paparazzi pictures of people when they were taking dumps.

He hated it when people called him pretty or girly, but he wore BB creams and lipgloss, plucked his eyebrows every other Sunday, had oval-trimmed nails, and wore dozens of perfumed hand creams.

Changmin tried not to think too closely about silk-like skin whenever Jaejoong one-touched him, adoringly patting on his head and babying him and feeding him because it was just something that Jaejoong did.

How it spiralled from a store clerk’s fond exasperation at a troublesome customer into such an easy thing to fall back into, well, Changmin tried not to think too closely about that either.

There was nothing unusual being in sort-of-like-love with Jaejoong.

Everyone was sort of in love with Jaejoong, because Jaejoong went out of his way to make sure that they were because he was an attention whore like that.

He sounded like he could go on forever talking about Kim Jaejoong. Someone told him (Junsu or Yunho, he didn’t remember) that if they knew better, they’d think they were dating or something.

Of course, he wasn’t in love with Jaejoong or anything.

Changmin really didn’t like men, and Jaejoong annoyed him sometimes, but Changmin tolerated him enough to let Jaejoong tug on his sleeves in hallways, let him link their ankles under the table during lunches, let him ruffle his hair and lean his head against Changmin’s shoulders.

It wasn’t like anything he said would make Jaejoong stop.

He didn’t like it when Jaejoong one-touched him, because it seriously hurt and honestly, it looked gay.

But Changmin always, always allowed it until he was laughing, louder than he ever had before, no matter his mood, and one-touched Jaejoong back twice as hard for all the ho yay, just until Jaejoong laughed.

Yoochun and Yunho started calling them with this rude couple name “soulfighters” by the end of the first year. Jaejoong found it absolutely hilarious.

“Min?” Jaejoong sleepily opened his eyes when he felt a hand touching his hair.

It was so easy.

“Go back to sleep, hyung.”

Jaejoong did.

It was easy as easy as breathing.

-

-

12:58 PM, 25th December
Like White Castles on Clouds

Changmin didn’t remember how exactly that his boyfriend got him pressed against the wall at the side of their duplex apartment building after they got back from grocery shopping, with his jeans pulled down to half his thighs.

Really, this was a little stupid, Changmin thought, because they were right there in the openness of their yard, and it was minus two degree outside and they would probably die from pneumonia, or something like a heart-attack, or maybe sheer mortification if an innocent neighbour decided to stumble on their little tryst and have a heart attack—

Fuck, Jaejoong’s lips tightened around his cock and Changmin’s brain kind of melted.

Or maybe it had melted since Jaejoong lowered Changmin’s zipper with his fucking teeth and nuzzled his dick like a goddamn puppy.

Unff.

It was quiet, out here in the cold, Changmin could only hear the wet, lewd slurp of Jaejoong’s tongue and lips and his own breathing that was soft and desperate. His fingers raked through Jaejoong’s hair, grip tightening whenever Jaejoong hollowed his cheeks.

Jaejoong kissed the head of Changmin’s cock, blew, then engulfed the tip and made Changmin whimper like the rest of the way, sucking hard enough to take the paint of a car, fingers curling around the base as Changmin muttered something obscene when Jaejoong took another inch down his throat.

Jaejoong’s eyes were closed, but his face was red and his lips were plush swollen, his dark hair tickled as it brushed against Changmin’s crotch.

Changmin was a little fascinated by the little details Jaejoong gave in a blowjob, like how his throat would constrict with every swallow, the stream of humming he did whenever he drew back, the way Jaejoong would prod at every protruding vein with his tongue, the way he would graze his teeth against the slit when he pulled away for a breath—

Jaejoong scrapped his nails across Changmin’s abs under his shirt and his cock jumped in Jaejoong’s mouth. He carded his fingers through Jaejoong’s hair, stroking the scalp, pressure gentle as he pushed Jaejoong’s head down to take more.

Jaejoong glanced up at his boyfriend, throat relaxing, catching sight of tightly clenched eyes and an open mouth, and he stroked a little faster, tongue swirling around the tip, under the flared head. His jaws were already aching and his eyes had started to water when Changmin’s started to cant frantically, but he took it all in stride.

He rested his left hand in the junction of Changmin’s thigh and groin, trying to calm Changmin as his thumb reached down to rub just beneath Changmin’s balls.

He continued until his nose bumped against Changmin’s belly—something hugely different from when they were still clueless, fumbling teenagers in Changmin’s university dorm room because it took Jaejoong nearly four tries before he could even close the distance between his mouth and a fist that was wrapped around the base of Changmin’s cock without gagging—and the thought made him moan, deep and slow in his throat.

The vibration travelled up to Changmin’s cock, making him choke back an embarrassing squeak, in the case of an innocent neighbour passing by, and he grabbed on Jaejoong’s hair as he came with a strangled groan.

Changmin slumped back on the wall, his body lax and chest heaving as Jaejoong climbed over him, too far gone under post-coital haze to protest when Jaejoong pressed their lips together, tasting like salt, transferring a mouthful of Changmin’s thick cum into his mouth, tongue licking at Changmin’s and flicking against the roof of his mouth.

It was messy, because Jaejoong had cum and saliva dripping from his chin and they were passing the cum mixed with saliva back-and-forth, prolonging the sharp, bitter tang as they rolled their tongues together, Changmin’s finger cupping Jaejoong’s face, his thumb stroking smooth, flushed pink cheeks.

Changmin pulled away to swallow, and even then he couldn’t swallow it all, grimacing at the taste lingering at the back of his throat. Jaejoong stuck his tongue out, licking clean at whatever Changmin missed before wrapping his arms around Changmin’s neck.

“That was gross.”

“That was snowballing.” Jaejoong said, arms wrapping around Changmin’s neck. Changmin could feel how hard he was, even through his jeans. “No pun intended. You don’t know?”

Jaejoong made “don’t know” sound like a four-letter word.

“You knew?” Changmin tried not to sound like a jealous bastard because he was not.

Jaejoong leaned up and rested his ear against Changmin’s chest and listened to his heart pounding a little faster than usual from post-orgasm adrenalin.

“Now I do.” Jaejoong snuggled into Changmin’s collarbone and finger out-rimming his nipple through Changmin’s muscle thermal shirt and playfully pinching the dusky nub, “Consider it extra service. For Christmas.”

“I have a feeling that I’ll be paying for this later.” Changmin said, feeling a bit broken in the brain. “God, snowballing is right. I feel like I’ve been hit by a fucking avalanche. Maybe we should try avalanche next.”

“You’re so precious when you’re thinking horny.”

Changmin smacked him upside the head.

Jaejoong laughed before pecking Changmin’s lips again, “Just buttering you up, Changmin-ah.”

“Consider me buttered.” Changmin said, “Dripping even.”

“I love dripping in Christmas mornings.” Jaejoong chirruped.

When they crossed the yard, hand-in-hand between the groceries bags, Jaejoong saw the five snow people were still there, not quite as tall as before, but still standing closely together with their bright, funny faces. Changmin felt Jaejoong squeezed his fingers and caught a little, happy smile as happy as a mini Christmas on Jaejoong’s lips.

He looked brighter than the tree at the Seoul City Hall Park.

“They’re still here.” He whispered. Maybe some things did last longer than he often made himself believe.

Changmin said nothing at first, but squeezed the fingers back. “Yeah, they are.” For some reason, he was a little bit happy too, mostly because since the two larger snowmen were still standing close, still together.

“They will always be.”

They wouldn’t, but between Jaejoong and Changmin, they understood enough.

-

-

06:00 PM, 28th November 2008
I Got You under My Skin

When Changmin got back, the first thing he saw from the doorway was Jaejoong, wearing a scandalously pink short shorts and a large shirt Changmin had been missing for a week, sprawled on the floor.

Wide spread-open Dragon Ball Z Japanese mangas were scattered around him, one propped over his eyes. Jaejoong couldn’t even read katakana, so he must have been only looking at pictures.

He was lying in a half-foetal position, Mangdong—a tiny puppy that had grown on Changmin after the four nosy busybodies that were Jaejoong, Yoochun, Junsu, and Yunho bought him as a birthday present—curled and tucked away by his stomach, both of them sleeping soundly.

Changmin sighed, not knowing who was the baby between the two.

He took the mangas, putting them away, before tugging on Jaejoong’s wrist.

“Hyung, get up. You’ll catch a cold.”

Jaejoong murmured sleepily, rubbing his eye with the back of his wrist before suddenly circling his arms around Changmin, causing Changmin to trip forward, hands planted on either side of Jaejoong’s head.

There was a brush of naked thigh against his training pants.

Changmin closed his eyes and made a mental count to ten (one, two, three, five, what came after that, eight, ni—nine, ten) before placing his forehead against Jaejoong’s.

“You’re cold.” And so defenceless, what do you take me as? I’m a man too.

“You’re warm,” Jaejoong dimpled at him, sleepy eyed and all as Changmin pulled him into a sitting position, before blinking and perking up when he noticed something different. “Oh hey, I like your new glasses.”

Something about the way Jaejoong said it made Changmin felt like doing something stupid like, say, blushing. He didn’t of course, but he did shove his bangs out of his face with his right hand, knowing that Jaejoong was weak against his face from certain angles like that.

It didn’t matter that everything out of the rim of his glasses—out of Jaejoong— was a little blurred from focus.

“I ran out of contacts this morning,” He lied, pretty smoothly.

“I saw them pancake-flattened under your ass last night, dongsaeng.” Jaejoong said, with no intent of humiliating him at all as he gently plucked the glasses from Changmin’s face, fingers brushing against cheeks, and slipped it on the bridge of his own nose, his soft hair falling over to frame his face, so flawless it hurt to look at him.

It wasn’t fair that Jaejoong always looked so good in Changmin’s stuff, not that Changmin would complain when Jaejoong wore his university shirts like a nightgown during their sleepovers because it was hilarious.

And attractive, frighteningly attractive.

The frame matched his visage, but the prescription was Changmin’s, so it was giving Jaejoong dizzy spells and Changmin had to pull it away before Jaejoong could tip backward from spinning rooms.

Jaejoong wobbled slightly, pouting, “That’s pretty bad. Can you see me without them?” He waved a hand in front of Changmin’s eyes as if to emphasize.

Without his glasses on, the world lost its clarity, its edge, somehow softened, and somehow rounded, as if stripped into basic shapes, all in water colours and pastel visions.

It wasn’t as frightening and Jaejoong didn’t seem as impossibly delicate.

Changmin told him gently, “Always.”

Jaejoong didn’t know who leaned forward first, but suddenly, there was recycled air in his lungs that was not completely his, hot and fusing into his being. His breath hitched, but he couldn’t do anything but kiss back just as tentatively, testing unknown waters.

He didn’t know who pulled away first either, as Changmin’s hand reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, soaking up the shock in silence, in uncertain slow motions.

“… I think,” Jaejoong licked his lips and paused, unsure.

Changmin’s eyes followed the pink muscle disappearing into Jaejoong’s mouth, swallowed hard, but put on his glasses back for a sense of world and normalcy and clarity. “I think you should make dinner now, hyung. I’m tired and I’m starving.”

He missed the devastated look on Jaejoong’s face when he turned away in a moment of cowardice.

“Yeah,” Jaejoong said, voice hoarse. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Changmin stood and took the widest, fastest strides he could without looking like he was running away—but he was running away—to the bathroom and locked the door with a bang.

Changmin never locked doors around Jaejoong before and the reality of what just happened hit him like a sledgehammer to the face.

Jaejoong’s face burned in shame.

It was a little more humiliating when Jaejoong later thought he’d still give Changmin everything for another kiss after that.

Maybe he was just desperate.

…

Yeah, he was pretty desperate.

-

-

02:44 PM, 25th December
So just how did Grandma get run over by the reindeer?

Jaejoong wanted to have a Japanese White Christmas that year. Which was better than last year’s Hawaiian pink one that actually side-blinded Changmin a little and the year before that was an African themed one (why Africa? Jaejoong even put on these creepy little decorations of macho mermaid Santas on the tree).

But then again, what Jaejoong wanted, Jaejoong got. For the sake of world’s peace.

So Changmin was stuck with the duty of decorating the tree, again. Which was a little weird, Changmin thought as he sprayed two tall cans of Montana spray in silver chrome and gold tech all over the tree, because his family was strictly Buddhist before he met Jaejoong.

Changmin glanced around the living room of their duplex apartment, sighing. Nearly every inch of the wooden flooring was covered with an assortment of lantern papers, satin ribbons, white magnolias, stringed LED light bulbs, glittery silver bells, pinecone garlands, and glass balls filled with sprigs of holly and bay leaves.

He looked back at the mini polar bear he was holding by the string (but polar bears weren’t even Japanese native), before turning to stare at a pair of smiling ball crabs decorations hanging on a different branch.

(“You want to put crabs on the tree.” Changmin said, “… Why?”

“Don’t you love Hokkaido crabs? It’s a Japanese White Christmas tree.”)

He shook his head, eternally wondering why his boyfriend had such convoluted taste in everything as he hung the polar bears, trying not to think about it further lest it hurt his brain, potentially permanently.

He glanced at his boyfriend, who was humming along to Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer which was playing on the television. It was a pretty morbid thing considering that he was cheerfully pounding on meats with a mallet the size of a grown man’s fist.

Changmin turned again and this time, his mouth tsunami-ed a little as his eyes landed on the mustard-maple glazed ham that looked big enough to feed a small army sitting primly on the buffet table.

Jaejoong had really outdone himself this time: brandied hams with honey, herb-crusted seared prime ribs, slow-roasted balsamic glazed duck, spice-rubbed crisp stuffed turkey, a golden brown roasted chicken with thick gravy, wild mushroom and spinach lasagna, lobster pastas with stuffed pumpkins, poached salmon in wine sauces, and marinated rack of lambs.

He didn’t even know how Jaejoong managed it even though Jaejoong had told him that Mama Kim sent most of the premade stuffs over the night before.

Apparently, he’d asked his mom to prepare it before he took off for Jeju because he knew he wouldn’t be able to prepare it beforehand. Changmin couldn’t be more in love with Jaejoong. His boyfriend had him hooked by the stomach, just second to his libido, which was second to his heart.

Changmin’s stomach grumbled happily and he would’ve sneaked something if Jaejoong wasn’t holding a mallet and Changmin would hate to distract him with a potentially maiming utensil in hand.

He couldn’t wait for dessert already.

With a happy thought of eggnogs and cakes, Changmin headed for the fridge to grab a drink only to thunk his head against the door when Jaejoong suddenly banged his knee against something painful and sent a few stainless steel utensils to commit suicide on the floor, his foot narrowly missing the mallet.

“What? What is it?”

Jaejoong blinked, too innocent by half, “I think we forgot the eggs.”

And there went his eggnog.

Changmin thunked his head again.

-

-

03:02 PM, 08th December 2008
And We Came So Far

The study group, minus Jaejoong, met on Tuesday afternoons. Because the library was packed and the study and audio rooms were fully booked, they ended up studying at the university cafeteria, textbooks and papers littered with snack wrappings and canned coffees.

Half an hour into it, Yunho was doodling on his calculus notebook (“What the fuck is that?” Junsu had asked.

“It’s a rhino,”) and Yoochun was making vaguely obscene hand motions with a blond Caucasian girl on the other side of the room.

She returned the gesture, only a lot ruder. Yoochun laughed and said, “How cute.”

Changmin would never understand Yoochun. Not that he ever wanted to.

Changmin, on the other hand, was trying to look nonchalant and generally unperturbed, but failed when Jaejoong stepped into the cafeteria with Hyunjoong. Jaejoong didn’t even look in his direction and Changmin felt miserable, like wilted kimchi in summer.

It had been two weeks since the incident, and they had not talked since. It was too awkward, and both of them had avoided each other, leaving vague voicemails, each saving them to replay it later because honestly, they missed each other.

Junsu cautiously asked if they were fighting, while writing down on his dolphin-themed girly notebook with a pen that looked sharp enough to physically maim a grown man, and Changmin was pretty sure he was painfully awkward in response.

Yunho was pretending that he didn’t notice anything was wrong and Yoochun was directly hovering over Junsu, begging to get his eyes poked out by something, the pen or Junsu’s death-giving black nails.

Changmin wanted to think that he was acting normal, but he still dropped everything he was holding when Yoochun said, “Dude, you look like Heechul-hyung just ran you over with a happy bus or something.”

Heechul scared Changmin. Well, Heechul scared everyone, but most of all, Changmin.

“I do not,” Changmin mumbled, but glanced at Jaejoong, who looked like the other human road kill in the room.

Jaejoong had barely looked his direction since the incident, but his eyes were puffy and a little red. He looked sullen, unusually quiet, not even smiling or fiddling with his camera phone like he usually would.

Well, Changmin didn’t need Yunho’s subtle (not really, it just made Changmin want to chuck an oxford dictionary at his too small face) comments—

“Jaejoongie is really sad these days,” and,

“I think Jaejoongie needs a cuddle. Or a good talk,” to know that he had screwed up big time.

Oh shut it, Jung-face. Changmin proceeded to try and set the man on fire with his mind.

“You should talk to him, you know.”

Changmin glared at Junsu’s patronizing face, strangely enough the sanest of their little group of social misfits—Jaejoong, Yunho, and Yoochun were popular, for all the wrong reasons. Junsu was worshipped on campus, period—and glared at the ceiling, then at his calculus textbook.

He hated calculus. Jaejoong was pretty good at it though and he used to tutor him a lot.

Junsu sighed, nonchalantly stabbing at Yoochun’s hand that was on the table when Yoochun tried to touch his ass with the other hand. It missed—but narrowly—the space between Yoochun’s ring and pinkie finger.

Yoochun pulled back with a whimper.

“He’s not going to come first, you know.” Junsu said, “But you know hyung adores you more than any of us. He’s going to forgive you anything.”

Anything.

“… I know.”

Changmin threw another glance at Jaejoong, who smiled feebly when a group of worried looking girls asked why he was looking so down lately. Changmin snorted in disgust and glared when the blond one—Jessica, if he wasn’t mistaken—patted at Jaejoong’s fluffy hair like he was a puppy.

The now wine-headed boy turned around slightly, looking around, feeling eyes on him. He flinched when he caught Changmin’s gaze just behind him. He quickly looked away and pretended to be busy with Hyunjoong’s electronic dictionary.

Okay, that does it.

Changmin slammed his hand on the table, surprising Yoochun, who became bored when Junsu didn’t entertain him and decided to drool on his notes instead, leaving purple highlighter imprints on the side of his face.

Junsu scrunched his nose in disgust and scooted further away.

Yoochun noticed and scooted after Junsu.

Yunho was still doodling, this time a giraffe-that-looked-like-a-zebra, while stuffing his cheeks with dill pickle potato chips.

Changmin was burning with determination.

Very desperate times call for very desperate measures, Changmin decided. He was going to make it right this time.

-

-

03:15 PM, 25th December
Feliz Navidad Feliz Navidad Feliz Navidad Prospero Ano Felicidad

“That will be nine-thousand-six-hundred-and-forty won. Will you be paying in cash or credit?” The cashier beamed, looking as cheerful as the pointy bright red hat she wore but somehow, it only served to annoy Changmin even more.

Changmin grunted irritably and spilled his wallet’s content looking for some loose change before picking up the twin bulky plastic bags of eggs that Jaejoong had sent him to buy from the nearest supermarket.

“Thank you for coming and have a Merry Christmas!”

Well, Changmin knew for one thing that he wouldn’t be having any Merry Christmas this year if he didn’t get his eggnog dessert later.

Of all things that Jaejoong’s scattered brain decided to miss, why his eggnogs?

Changmin made another show of glowering misery as he trudged to the station, half dragging the plastic bags and suddenly feeling like laying eggs all of a sudden. He was waiting for the bus, all the while thinking about egg-laying, when his cell phone suddenly blared to life from his jeans’ pocket.

I want nobody nobody but you
I want nobody nobody but you
How can I be with another, I don’t want any other
I want nobody nobody nobody nobody

“What the fuck—?”

Everyone within ten feet turned to stare—a few mothers were even glaring—at him as Changmin frantically fumbled with his bags and phone. The screen flashed Honey Funny Bunny in huge, bold letters on the blinking screen with another selca of Jaejoong making a cutesy kissy face at him.

He scowled before placing the phone to his ear, “Yah! Kim Jaejoong, what the hell did you do to my phone again?”

[“Awwwh~ you don’t like it, Changminnie?”]

“Don’t you take that tone with me, you sneaky bastard!” Changmin snapped, only realizing that he was shouting when a small, bug-eyed old lady sitting next to him nearly stabbed his toe with her mean looking purple umbrella. He buried his face into his palm and hissed, “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

[“Why?”] Jaejoong echoed innocently, [“Hmm. Well, because I. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. You. Shim. Chang. Min. Min. Min. Min. Min. So tingly tingly my body is trembling~”] Jaejoong sing-songed in SNSD’s Gee, while probably trying to imitate the crab leg dance too.

Changmin hated that song.

Changmin groaned again, wondering if he would ever win against Kim Jaejoong. “Well, you called me earlier. What do you want?”

Jaejoong cooed, [“Wheatgrass snow cones~”]

Changmin paused. He pulled his phone away from his ear, puckered his brow, and promptly disconnected the call. Exactly two seconds later, his phone nearly jumped in the air as the stupidly embarrassing song blasted on full volume again.

He answered it.

[“Yahyahyahyahyah! Did you just hang up on me! Why did you hang up on me, Shim Changmiiin~?”] Jaejoong whined, tone dulcet but dangerously so.

Changmin could hear the sound of Jaejoong’s foot stomping on the floor because even though Jaejoong was mostly all “wheee” about everything else, he hated it when someone hung up on him.

Changmin didn’t even miss a beat, “I thought I heard something disgustingly disturbing. Satellite signals are so unreliable these days. What did you want again, baby?”

[“Wheatgrass snow cones!”]

Ah, so he didn’t hear wrong.

“… What the fuck is that?” Changmin had to avoid another umbrella attack from the offended old lady sitting next to him. He glared back at her before whispering loudly into his phone, “Wheatgrass snow cones?”

[“It’s a new thing on TV. Some sort of Christmas special edition stuff. It’s super popular, too. That thing looks like something that only Yunja and Junsu could concoct on their bad days. But it tastes—”] He paused, [“Well, I think it tastes like something they would concoct on their bad days, too. But supposedly, it’s good for your health.”]

“And you want me to buy these… these snow cones for you. Why?” Changmin asked, completely bewildered.

[“Because I want to eat it, silly!”] Jaejoong laughed like it was obvious because he was crazy. [“The baby and I want snow cones, Changmin-ah. So you should totally buy us some. Like now.”]

“Where the fuck am I supposed to find them?” Changmin said, wondering if it was something about Christmas spirit that made his boyfriend a little more “off” than usual. If so, he was going to ask Father Christmas for a refund. “… And since when the fuck are you pregnant?”

Jaejoong giggled, the sound of his laughter ringing like bells in Changmin’s ears. [“Just buy me the snow cones, Changmin-ah. Wheatgrass ones. I’m sure you’ll find them somewhere. I’ll love you some more if you do. Baibi~”]

Jaejoong hung up before Changmin could say anything else.

He dialled Jaejoong’s number again, but he was redirected to his mailbox so he left a rather explicit voicemail instead before begrudgingly went to look for the “fucking wheatgrass snow cones” anyway.

- - - - -

Surprisingly, there was an open snack stand about twenty minutes walk away from the bus stop that actually sold the so-called elusive wheatgrass snow cones—with a shocking queue line that was long enough to reach from here to there and the next block.

Changmin spluttered as he got in line, ignoring a group of giddy looking high school girls who was giggling at him, just what the hell is wrong with people nowadays? Seriously, wheatgrass snow cones?

Forty minutes into queuing, a spilled snow cone, one foot slip accident, a pair of annoying ahjummas, and some two dozen eggs mishaps later, Changmin went home in a strangely solemn mood, his hair and coat covered in eggs, not even caring that people were staring and pointing anymore.

Eggnogs, bye-bye bye-bye.

… Well, at least he got those snow cones Jaejoong wanted.

-

-

Interlude
You are So Loveable from Head to Toe

This was what Jaejoong loved: Changmin. From the first eight-thousand won to the eight-thousand-and-first uneven smile.

It was embarrassing how he was so helplessly smitten by Changmin, who was younger, yet moved with more confidence, was aloof and sharp, but really was nothing more than a six foot two teddy bear.

Yoochun’s exact words had been “totally crazy eyes, dudes,” but in English, so it wasn’t like Jaejoong understood what it meant.

At point blank, Jaejoong was suddenly crazy in love with everything about Changmin.

Everything from his harsh, realistic mind-set and razor-sharp tongue that intimidated people and was such a contrast to his deep thoughtfulness, his brusque affection, but undying loyalty to Junsu, Yoochun, and Yunho, his long-standing affair with food, and his love for the little Mangdongie, from the tips of his hair and down to the wiggle of his littlest toes.

He loved how Changmin would glance his way when Jaejoong was talking too close to someone, spine stiffening when there was an actual physical contact—an innocent brush of the back of hands, a meaningless tuck of hair, a careless peck on a cheek, that Jaejoong always made sure to happen whenever Changmin was near and thought that Jaejoong didn’t notice him—and it didn’t matter who, because Changmin’s jealousy was sharp, a quiet force, but mostly unreasonable.

He loved how Changmin always unconsciously sought out the line of Jaejoong’s eyes, scowling if someone happened to be in it, because no one is good enough for Jaejoong in his eyes, loved how Changmin was always so detailed, so organized, but he never realized that his toothbrush was used by someone else, or how he always complained that Jaejoong used all his shampoo, but talked in his sleep that Jaejoong smelled so good.

He loved that he was the only one had duplicate keys to Changmin’s studio apartment and he wore it around his neck like a lucky charm, loved how Changmin loved his cooking.

He loved that Changmin had a drawer of clothes over at Jaejoong’s place. When he did the laundry sometimes, he would bring Changmin’s clothes to his nose, breathing in the scent that was distinctly Changmin that wouldn’t go away even with all the detergent he used before folding them lovingly.

He loved that they were content to spend the blistering summers lazing around the floor with the air conditioner on full blast, sharing an iPod between them until the battery ran out.

He loved the way Changmin pretended to be stronger than any of them when he was actually younger, more vulnerable. He loved the way Changmin loved him, even if Changmin was oblivious to that love.

Jaejoong loved a lot of things. He loved Shim Changmin.

- - - - -

Jaejoong remembered when his favourite grandfather used to take him on camping-fishing trips before he passed away in a hiking incident in New Zealand.

When he was younger, Jaejoong didn’t see the appeal of fishing. When older, well, he still didn’t see the appeal, but if he knew anything about fishing after growing up, it was always a waiting game, all about knowing when to bait and hook, line, sink at the right time.

Two years, that was how long Jaejoong waited until he threw the bait and his penny into the game.

He had to, before Changmin’s little girlfriend could up him one.

- - - - -

“I… I heard from the girls that Changmin went to a hotel at Hongdae yesterday. He was with Lee Yeonhee.”

Thinking about it, Jaejoong had taken the news with considerable calm, not breaking down or fainting or anything, but Hyunjoong and Yihan still looked at him like he was a time bomb without the clock.

So they all knew, Jaejoong thought with an indignant, but half-fond exasperation. They had known all along and just let Changmin and Jaejoong think they didn’t.

All of them knew, but Changmin. This was getting ridiculous.

Christmas that year was the most miserable he’d had since he met Changmin.

He spent it locked in his room, alone and crying quietly into his pillow because Changmin was a jerk and Jaejoong was going to die from a runny nose because he caught a cold that night.

But it didn’t matter. It never mattered. He’d wait.

Jaejoong was good at waiting. He made it effortless, made it almost graceful, but fruitful.

He knew how to be patient, but at the same time, he was purposeful and scheming (people everywhere thought Kim Jaejoong wasn’t capable of guile, but even that came as an advantage) to get what he wanted.

And he wanted Changmin.

It was just like that camping trip, like what his favourite grandfather always said about fishing, “You’ll get the biggest fish in the water, Jaejoong-ah. But only if you know just how to bait it right and wait it to come to you. And then—”

He had thrown his bait. Now he waited.

-

-

05:56 PM, 25th December
Santa Baby So Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

It wasn’t like he did it on purpose. No, really.

After Changmin got home, Jaejoong had squealed and nearly threw himself at Changmin in his usual manner of welcoming him home, but had paused halfway and wrinkled his nose at the sight of his normally dashing boyfriend covered in eggs from head to knees.

Changmin had scowled, open arms hanging awkwardly in the air with the initial intent of catching Jaejoong, and they stared at each other for a long moment before Changmin suddenly ran after Jaejoong, all intent and purpose of bear-hugging the older man.

Jaejoong had squeaked and fled to the kitchen.

They went at it for ten minutes before Jaejoong threatened him to surrender the snow cones and take a shower, all the while waving a vaguely dangerous looking spatula-whisk thing.

Five minutes later, he found himself rummaging through his boyfriend’s sea of manly beauty products and manly BB creams and manly skin care bottles that crowded the bathroom cabinet for a bottle of shampoo that wasn’t fruity or headache inducing when he popped open the lid because his ever-so-thoughtful boyfriend had used Changmin’s all up and had conveniently forgotten to buy some more.

He pulled out a plastic squeeze tube from a glittery pink basket. It was a non-descript white with green and brown swirls. No labels, which was weird because Jaejoong was a complete brand queen. He flicked the sparkly green cap and sniffed carefully, smelling peppermint candy and a hint of something sweet. Maybe toffee?

Changmin’s brow furrowed. Was it a body wash gel or something? Some new kind of shampoo?

He flipped the tube over and squinted at the tiny print on the back label. It was in English and though he took a class last semester at college, he only got about one tenth of the whole thing, but he shrugged it off, figuring it couldn’t hurt anyway.

Well, whatever.

At least, it didn’t smell like all the girly shit Jaejoong accumulated in their bathroom, Changmin thought as he squirted a dollop of the clear gel like liquid on his palm before running it through his hair under the running water.

It was only then that he realized the subtle, barely there, but very, very familiar scent of something plastic and Changmin froze, eyes wide open, full of unspoken horrors, as he lowered his hands in near slow motion and carefully brought them back to his nose and—sniff.

Oh. Shit.

- - - - -

“… Why do you have a peppermint toffee flavoured lube in the bathroom?”

“Oh, you found that? I ordered it online. There’s this really funky website that offered these crazy Christmas-flavoured lubes. You know, like those seasonal drinks at Starbucks?” Jaejoong paused, suddenly poking his head through their closet opening. “Oh, and I used your credit card by the way.”

“That’s not my point—what are you wearing?”

Jaejoong had just emerged from the closet in a very puffy, very very red looking Santa suit, complete with a Santa hat with cutesy antlers and a pair of white boots with pompoms that Changmin was pretty sure didn’t come in men’s sizes in Korea.

He was even wearing one of those plastic, no prescription ulzzang glasses and a fake handle bar white moustache.

Changmin blurted the first thing that came to mind, “Are we having a new role play game or something?”

“Isn’t this cute? Hohoho~” Jaejoong didn’t seem to have heard him and instead gushed with exaggerated Santa voice, twirling on his feet and babbling Santa Claus is Coming to Town, in broken English, before he paused and laughed, much more flatly, “Hohoho. And look what I’ve got you to match with me!”

Jaejoong bubbled as he turned around, flashing Changmin a brown, furry looking Rudolph full gear, his big eyes shining and painfully hopeful.

Changmin stared at him from the open doorway, hands on hips. He looked remarkably like Jaejoong’s mother like that. Well, with biceps and over six feet tall.

And looking sexy dripping wet in just a towel.

“No,” Changmin said.

Jaejoong pouted sadly.

“No.” Changmin repeated. He glared at innocent Rudolph like he was trying to set it on fire with his mind. “And you how old? Suck in that lip. Don’t even think about flirting me into agreeing with it. I won’t do it.”

Jaejoong huffed and crossed his arms. “I don’t need to flirt. I will seduce you.” He paused again before he suddenly spread his legs, folded his arms, bent his knees, and pursed his lips determinedly, “With my awkwardness. Hai-yah!”

Jaejoong kicked his feet high in the air and ended up tripping back until he crashed into their unmade bed, rolled over, and dropped to the other side with a loud thud.

Changmin rolled his eyes, smirking. “Don’t hurt yourself trying, hyung. And was that supposed to be Bruce Lee?”

“Nooo~” Jaejoong whined, peeking from the other side of the bed while rubbing his head. Changmin could imagine him pouting already. “That was Abracadabra. Don’t you know that? Tch, you’re so old-fashion, baby dongsaeng.”

“How was that supposed to be Abracadabra?” Changmin snipped, “And don’t call me baby.”

Jaejoong stuck his tongue out and grinned, waving about another costume consisting of a flimsy looking jewelled thong with a green, leafy elf’s collar with berry pom-poms and nothing else.

“Well, you can be Santa’s little helper if you want.” Jaejoong said, somewhat lecherously, blinking his huge innocent eyes again.

The younger man raised an eyebrow, his arms now folded. “And I should choose, why?”

“Because~” Jaejoong sing-song, “I’m not talking to you until you do.”

“And that’s supposed to be a threat?”

“And I’ll burn your precious, trashy, explicit graphic novels that you thought you managed to hide under the kitchen sink.”

Changmin stared long and hard at Jaejoong’s beaming face before he finally sighed and pointed at Jaejoong’s left hand, completely defeated. “… I’ll take the Rudolph.”

Jaejoong cheerfully ran towards him, reindeer costume in hand.

“If you pull the towel off me, Kim, I swear I’ll—”

The towel was already flying halfway across the room before Changmin even finished talking and he grumbled when he suddenly found himself with an armful of Kim Jaejoong.

“My delayed welcome home hug~” Jaejoong said, closing his eyes as he nuzzled Changmin’s chest and kissed just above his nipple, his dark hair tickling Changmin’s collarbone. “Hmm, you smell nice.”

Changmin sighed again, unable to do much but put his arms around the older man.

Jaejoong had gotten just a little chubbier over the holidays from all the cakes and dinner parties, and though his boyfriend would gleefully strangle him with condom wrapper if he ever said it out loud, it still felt like the nicest feeling in the world as he buried his nose in Jaejoong’s hair.

It was a mystery to Changmin how Jaejoong always smelled like warm apple spice and steamed milk, despite all matter of floral smelling body wash taking permanent residence in the bathroom counter, a little like the detergent they used on the sheets, like their private Sunday morning spent lazing around in bed, like Christmas muffins and home-cooked meals.

Like home—

Sniff.

Jaejoong grabbed Changmin’s head and pulled him down, sniffing on his damp, tousled hair and blinked. “… Changmin-ah, why do you smell like peppermint toffee?”

“Shit!”

-

-

Unknown, 2006
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

Changmin had a girlfriend. Once. It happened about two years after he met Jaejoong, but it felt like an eternity ago.

There were two kinds of visual memories of your past romances. One was the kind that your mind’s laboratory constructed, like how you remember a sequence of multiplication table, with your eyes open, and you remember everything in such commonness, like how he remembered his kindergarten teacher, who was his first crush, and all he could think about was “nice smile,” “pretty name,” “short, bobbed hair,” “bright, red mouth.”

Some days, he remembered his teacher being prettier than he ever thought she actually was, some days he didn’t and he would mistake her for someone else with her similar, general descriptions walking down the street. He would remember his first girlfriend like this, too.

The other kind of memory was the kind that remained, when you close your eyes, behind the eyelids and the retinas, an optical replica of a little ghost in all natural colours. This was how Changmin would always remember Kim Jaejoong.

But before that, there was Lee Yeonhee.

Yeonhee was pretty, was popular. There wasn’t much else that Changmin knew about her. Changmin was seventeen and she was his age, a girl from public relations. He remembered being a wreck when preparing for their first date, flipping over his wardrobe, all sweaty palms and too many breath fresheners.

Butterflies were cliché, but it happened though it didn’t last throughout the actual date. Yeonhee was nice, was sweet, they had a lot of things in common. It was nice, but Changmin felt a little disappointed that dating wasn’t as fun as he thought it would be.

He would’ve asked Jaejoong to come along, nearly forgetting the whole point of a date, but then Jaejoong and Yeonhee could barely tolerated each other.

Yeonhee was uncomfortable with his bluntness and his appearance. Jaejoong knew it when someone didn’t like him and chose to avoid conflicts most of the time.

They didn’t say anything because of Changmin, but Changmin always felt like Jaejoong went out of his way to distance himself ever since he started dating Yeonhee.

Changmin found himself over-thinking about what Jaejoong was doing and whether he’d be up for some late-night-ramyeon-in-the-cold out at their dorm’s terrace after he got back from his dinner with Yeonhee.

It could be barely called a dinner though, with Yeonhee heating a rabbit portion of dainty looking green salad and shooting disapproving looks when Changmin wanted to order his third serving of pasta. He was a growing boy, for god’s sake. This couldn’t be healthy for his diet.

Yeonhee picked on her meals, didn’t flail when she talked, didn’t spill things when she laughed, didn’t take pictures of things she thought was cute or meaningful when they walked down the street, didn’t stop to coo at someone’s dog (because she was allergic to the fur) or baby (because she was uncomfortable with children).

He thought he was being a little biased, because best friends were supposed to be comfortable and do embarrassing, stupid things with you, supposed to like things you liked, but girlfriends were not.

But then they went to movies and she didn’t like horror, didn’t like comedy, didn’t like romance, and didn’t like exploding action movies. She said Transformers and Harry Potter were for kids.

So they settled on the re-release of Titanic.

She didn’t eat popcorns by the handful or pelt Changmin with the kernels when she thought a scene was boring. She didn’t smack Changmin for monopolizing the popcorn either.

Yeonhee leaned her head on his shoulders, but her perfume was so powdery that Changmin felt like sneezing all the time.

Changmin didn’t even realize he was nodding off until Yeonhee said she needed to touch up her make-up in the toilet. He surreptitiously wiped a trail of drool at the side of his mouth with his sleeve and blinked quickly to dispel his sleepiness.

On screen, Jack was already sketching a naked Rose and Changmin belatedly realized that he had slept through nearly the whole thing since the first ten minutes mark.

By the time Titanic split in half, Changmin found himself instinctively offering a tissue pack to Yeonhee, who didn’t need it.

He awkwardly put the tissue pack away, feeling a little caught off guard because had it been Jaejoong, he would have been crying like a baby already. Because no matter how many times they watched the last twenty minutes of the movie, Jaejoong would always bawl his eyes out from the minute Titanic sunk up until Rose let go of Jack’s frozen body from the plank.

To be fair, the date had been nice. It had been… well, boring.

But despite everything, Changmin had loved Yeonhee. Even though he wasn’t sure it was the right kind of love, but she had been his first girlfriend, a good friend, a nice and smart girl that anyone would have liked, and he was still enjoying every novel experience, from holding hands, to kissing, to sharing ice creams, and planning for their one-hundredth day anniversary, which happened to be on Christmas.

All thoughts about Yeonhee and anniversaries flew from his head when Jaejoong casually mentioned that he was going to be alone this Christmas over their late-night-ramyeon-in-the-cold session one night, because Yoochun and Yunho would be going home and Junsu had plans to go to Osaka with his family to visit relatives.

Jaejoong had just laughed it off when Changmin asked if he was going to be alright. Even until the last five minutes before he left to meet Yeonhee.

(“What, it’s not like you can abandon your girlfriend on your one-hundredth day for me.” Jaejoong grinned, puffy-eyed and pale-lipped, with his nose red and running.

He was bundled in thick comforter, because they had shitty dorm heater and he was already down with a fever since yesterday night and was only functioning on paracetamol and mild ibuprofen.

“And moreover, it’s Christmas! It’s a couple’s day. Yeonhee-ssi will kill you if you bail out on her today of all day—”

Cough, cough. Cough, co—wheeze, cough.

Changmin nearly winced when Jaejoong rasped noisily, trying to regain his breath even as he tried to convince Changmin that he was okay.

Changmin hesitated, “But—”

“I’ll be okay. Seriously, I’m a big boy.” He shook his head, grabbing some Kleenex to blow his nose as loud as an elephant. Changmin had to smile because even that was adorable—in a completely platonic, non-sequitur point of view of course.

Jaejoong smiled, watery. “Now go. Before I decide to trap you here with me.”)

Jaejoong had pushed him out the door, smiling.

But Changmin couldn’t get that face Jaejoong made when he closed the door out of his head, even with Yeonhee nearly completely naked under him, even as he unhooked her bra and kissed the valley between her breasts, even as she moaned softly and wrapped her legs around him.

Jaejoong had looked so… lonely.

Changmin shook his head. He shouldn’t be doing this, thinking about his best friend when he was about to have sex for the first time with his girlfriend.

“Changmin-ah…” Yeonhee sighed, her voice pitching high, as Changmin’s hand went under her skirt.

Changmin opened his mouth, her name in his conscious mind, but there was another name at the tip of his tongue and suddenly there was a different person under him—larger eyes, fuller lips, prettier smile—a warmer voice, hotter touch.

“Changminnie~” Jaejoong would coo to his ears, wrapping his arms around Changmin’s neck, his body warm, familiar, voice soft—

Changmin froze, greatly disturbed all of a sudden by the rather condensed optical illusion. He closed his eyes, but the vision didn’t leave, but instead planted itself behind his eyelids and burned into his brain until it stayed there, found a home, and never wanted to leave.

He couldn’t do this, he thought as he pulled away completely from Yeonhee. He sat on the edge of the bed, his erection completely deflated.

He felt like he was cheating. Changmin had harboured an unrequited hatred for cheaters ever since his mother left his father for another man. But right now, it felt like he was one.

He just wasn’t sure just who had he cheated with whom and that was just ridiculous.

“Changmin?”

Changmin looked over his shoulders. Yeonhee was staring at him, her face flushed, confused, uncertain. He felt guilt tugging on the sleeves of his heart. She did nothing wrong, but she looked like she had.

“Is…” She wet her lips, “Is something wrong?”

He couldn’t come up with anything to say so he just stood, shoved his legs into his jeans and started to pull on his clothes.

Yeonhee looked almost panicked, “Changmin, what are you—?”

“Sorry, Yeonhee-ah. I can’t do this.” Changmin muttered as he pulled on his socks and hooked his belt—where was his wallet?

“W-What do you mean you can’t?” Yeonhee nearly shrieked, torn between humiliation and anger. Her face was completely red now, lips twisted, and she looked close to tears. “Is something wrong? Is it… Is it me? What did I do?”

Changmin shook his head, having found his wallet on the floor beside the lamp table. Now, he only had to look for his phone.

“Nothing is wrong with you.” It’s me. “I can’t do this to you, Yeonhee. Not…” Not when I’m thinking about my best friend under me when—God, I’m going crazy. He took a deep breath and stared into Yeonhee’s wet, accusing eyes that he had been avoiding. “I’m not about to be unfair to you like that, Yeonhee-ah.”

“Unfair? Unfair!” Yeonhee snapped, incredulous. “And you think this is fair, you bastard?!”

Changmin nodded, without hesitance, and ducked to avoid one of her heels when she hurled it at him.

“I’m really sorry, Yeonhee. I—I just need to go.”

“So that’s it?” Yeonhee screeched, tears flowing freely on her face. “You’re going to leave without any explanation? What, I’m not good enough for you or something?”

“It’s not like that. I’m just… It’s complicated, okay?” Changmin ran a hand through his hair. “You deserve better and I—”

“Complicated. Deserve better. That’s always the easiest way out, isn’t it?” She spat, bitter, a strangely thoughtful look on her face.

Changmin bit his tongue because she was right. Those words just now were just words, born out of trying to fit a situation, lacking in any real honesty or sincerity and anything else Changmin might say would just be the same.

“… Is it Kim Jaejoong?” Yeonhee asked.

Changmin froze.

The young woman snorted, bunching and gathering the sheets to cover her upper body, fist trembling. “It’s always about him. Kim Jaejoong this, Kim Jaejoong that. Jaejoong is so this, was so that.” She looked… hateful. Possessed. “The little bitch just knew how to rile you up, huh? What, did he get you off when I’m not available or something? Did you fuck him? His lips are so pretty, is he good at sucking—?”

Changmin frowned, the line of his body rigid. “Take it how you want, Yeonhee. But don’t you dare drag Jaejoong-hyung into this. I won’t let you.”

Yeonhee looked surprised by the coldness in his voice and deflated considerably, shoulders shaking and face pale. “W-What?”

“… It’s not like that.” Changmin said. “It’s no one’s fault, not yours or his. It’s just…” He wet his dry lips, “It’s just me.”

He felt like he should be saying something more, something to make her feel less worthless, something like she would find someone better, but couldn’t, so he pocketed his phone that he found under Yeonhee’s strewn jacket and headed for the door, taking out all the cash in his wallet before placing it on vanity on his way out.

“I’ll pay for everything. It should be enough for the taxi fee back too. Be careful on your way home.”

“I don’t need your money.” Yeonhee said, “You don’t have to play the concerned boyfriend part anymore. It makes you look like a hypocrite on top of being a sick bastard.”

“Just take it so I’ll know you get home safely.” Changmin muttered, slipping on his sneakers. “Because somehow I don’t think you’ll appreciate me calling.”

Yeonhee said nothing to that.

Changmin glanced at his watch. It was nearly eleven, Christmas wasn’t even over yet.

“Yah, Shim Changmin.” Yeonhee called, her last effort in this relationship, sitting on the bed with her back to Changmin as she clasped back her bra. “If you walk out that door, we’re over for good.”

Changmin didn’t even pause, “Then we’re over.”

He walked out and closed the door. He never turned back, even when he heard her sobs through the door and the sound of something—probably her other heel—thudding against the wooden door surface, probably meant for him.

He didn’t wait for the elevator. He used the emergency staircase instead and nearly tripped down a full flight of stairs when he missed a step.

He needed to go back.

- - - - -

He took the subway, and then the bus, interchanged twice, and ran the rest of the four blocks away because he ran out of T-money and he’d left all his cash with Yeonhee in a final act of ambiguous chivalry.

He tried to call Jaejoong’s phone, but no one answered and that never happened before.

His imagination worked up half-terrifying visions, like what if Jaejoong had fainted from dehydration or what if he had tripped over a soap bar in the bedroom and knocked himself over the head or what if he was helpless because there was no one to make him some late night meal and he refused to eat alone in that condition?

Because in all the years Changmin had known Jaejoong, though a little less than say, Yoochun, he’d always needed to be looked after a little after he spent the whole day looking after everyone. He needed those little post-its and tiny text messages to sleep or eat because he was happy when they replied his text messages by reminding him to take care of himself too.

Everyone knew that about Jaejoong.

That was why Junsu would buy those disgustingly unhealthy take-outs for him whenever both finance students were locked up in the library planning Wall Street takeover or something as ominous.

When it rained outside, Yoochun would play scrabbles with him and teach him how to play the piano because Jaejoong loved the piano but never had the chance to learn it.

If he was gloomy, then Yunho would cuddle with him on the couch, poke his cheeks and talk cutely at him while they watched some gruesome horror flick until Jaejoong was feeling better, even though Yunho mostly fainted at the sight of blood.

With Changmin, it was a little different—a bump on the shoulder, a mini wrestling session on the carpet, a slap here, a hit there.

It was always different.

When he reached back to Jaejoong’s door, he was out of breath, sweat soaking his back, and looking like he had been ran over by a stampede of angry elephants.

Or an angry Jaejoong.

His heart was racing, blood rushing in his ears, and he didn’t know why his palms were sweating so much, because it was ridiculous really, this was only Jaejoong’s apartment and he had been over almost every other days of the week.

So why was he hearing all these bells in his head?

When Jaejoong opened the door, he appeared puffy-eyed and miserable, like he had been crying or something and it tugged on Changmin’s heartstrings.

And suddenly, he was glad that came back after all.

Jaejoong looked up at him with wide eyes, his gaze unbelieving, like he thought he was delirious and Changmin wasn’t really there.

“C-Changmin…?” He rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm, half-hiding behind the door. He looked worse than he had before Changmin left, lips chapped and huge bags under his eyes.

Changmin wanted to hug him so much that he felt awkward all of a sudden. He cleared his throat, “I… I was—I thought someone has to watch over you before you accidentally kill yourself with a bottle opener or something in that condition, because we all know how you are with mishaps and shit, so… yeah…”

It sounded lame even to his ears.

Jaejoong blinked. Then blinked again.

Changmin’s tried to look casual, but his ears were burning red, because this is really embarrassing for some reason, and Jaejoong would probably notice how his hair was still a little wet from the shower he had back at the hotel and he was wearing his shirt inside out under the jacket.

He was pretty sure that he looked like Yeonhee had been riding him hard and putting him away wet, though they didn’t even get to do anything, and Jaejoong would probably say something demeaning about it because it wasn’t even midnight—

And then, Jaejoong’s lips curled into a small smile, the smile that would be stuck on Changmin’s throat, down to his lungs and stomach and heart, and never really left after that.

Jaejoong was sick he was a little muddled and probably didn’t notice it, but Changmin’s blush was one for the history books right up there beside Hitler and Benjamin Franklin.

Changmin thought the bells in his head were Christmas bells.

It wasn’t.

It was—

-

-

07:52 PM, 25th December
In which Mr. Santa is Too Sexy to Come Down through the Chimney Top

So Changmin’s eggnog ended up not having any eggs in it.

His boyfriend had made the eggnog just how he liked it, with a little brandy and bourbon, and a sprinkling of ground cinnamon and spice, but it just wasn’t the same.

Changmin stared sadly at the milky white beverage on the buffet table, looking like someone had just cancelled Christmas. Well, Changmin didn’t actually celebrate Christmas per se, but he generally appreciated the season because it always put Jaejoong in this slightly crazy mood that promised lots of good food and lots lots lots of sex.

Now, Changmin just looked as miserable as floating, soggy cornflakes on a Monday morning in a reindeer suit with a fake glowing nose, one that his boyfriend practically abused him to wear—after Jaejoong made an unholy giggle over the teeny peppermint toffee catastrophe that was not to be mentioned again for a very, very long time.

When their guests started arriving—a bubbly Jihyo in her pretty white dress and sweet Geunyoung, who looked much more mature than when he last saw her jumping into mud pools, then Hyunjoong and Seunghyun who rode with Boa, Kyuhyun who was his colleague at the firm, followed by Junho, and then Hyukjae who was Junsu’s weekend soccer teammate of some sort—Changmin still looked like Mangdongie got run over by a public bus.

Boa had cackled at his face when he explained the situation—after she’d finished cackling at the reindeer suit—because the woman didn’t have a single sympathetic bone in her body, while Jihyo, Hyunjoong, and Seunghyun generally didn’t seem to mind the eggnogs—or the suit—so much.

Hyukjae had looked half-amused mostly-mortified at the sight of him, while Kyuhyun had shot him that weird up-and-down look and made vague snorting sound that somehow pissed him off.

Even sweet, painfully sincere Geunyoung had told him that he looked adorable in some sort of misguided attempt to cheer him up.

Changmin hated them all.

Changmin was also a little put off by Shirota Yuu’s appearance, because even though his boyfriend had told him to behave, the handsome half-Spanish half-Japanese was still Jaejoong’s ex and Shirota liked to aggravate Changmin and everyone kind of knew it.

Not to say that Changmin was a petty, jealous bastard just because he wanted to poke pretty boy in the eyeball with a corkscrew when he stared at Jaejoong—who looked all the wrong kinds of adorable in the bright red Santa suit—two seconds too long for Changmin’s liking, but the man even made a few subtle attempts to pull Jaejoong under the mistletoe hanging just above the entrance hallway leading to the study.

It had Changmin itching to rearrange the cover boy face permanently. Instead, Changmin shoved a would-be-traumatized Hyukjae under the mistletoe with Shirota and mouth-butted the two of them together.

Shirota was blissfully quiet after that. Hyukjae was still whimpering in the corner, but Changmin felt considerably happier.

At ten past eight, Yoochun and Junsu arrived.

Junsu appeared first, looking generally harassed in a flurry of pale blue hair and white tiger coat that looked about as expensive as a house. He stalked pass Changmin the moment the door was opened, nearly leaving a 5mm diameter hole in Changmin’s foot with his dangerous looking man-stiletto.

“Well, Junsu-sama, it’s very nice to see you again.” Changmin said, “No hello kisses this time? Can’t say I’m disappointed,”

Junsu glared at him, but then raised an eyebrow at what he was wearing. Changmin managed to act unaffected after being the receiving end of that look the whole night.

“Cute. You look. Like. A very wrong kind of Rudolph,” Junsu scrunched his nose delicately, fingers twitching for his phone to take some physical evidence to weaponize later, “The very insolent, bad example kind. How did Jaejoong-hyung even put you up to this? Are you just cream-whipped or did you drink?”

“No, but you look like I need a drink.” Changmin returned.

“Shut up, you brat.”

Junsu shrugged out of his coat, revealing some sort of fancy electric blue cashmere sweater and leather pants underneath before he turned to face Changmin again.

“So I see your face is a lot older than last week. Do be careful of the early aging epidemic, Minnie-yah. I heard that a lot of bastards have caught it lately.”

“Epidemic. You learned a new word.” Changmin dramatized, awed, “I’m so proud of you, hyung.”

Junsu flipped him off and whipped his head around left and right. “Now, where is my ever so lovely partner?” Junsu spelled partner like a soprano, “I heard he’d traumatized one of our interns so bad, the poor brat went into nunnery in mainland China.”

Oh, right.

It was so easy sometimes to forget that Junsu and Jaejoong were partners who co-owned Eastern Asia Pacific Management, which was probably one of the most notorious hedge fund units in this part of the continent because the both of them really didn’t look a part of it.

The company was founded by Junsu’s father fifteen years ago, but it flourished under Junsu and Jaejoong instead, so the man left all manner of commercial operations to the two of them and was now a president in name only.

Last Changmin heard, the old man was enjoying his retired life away exploring the African’s preserved natural wildlife with his wife.

Changmin sighed, “What did he do this time?”

“Kid screwed up with some four million dollar contract and I think Jaejoong-hyung hung the kid upside down in the main lobby for three hours and used his ribs a pin-poke cushion with wooden chopsticks.”

“Ouch.” Changmin said, almost sympathetic.

Junsu shrugged, “There was no lasting damage other than the mental trauma, I assure you. The problem is that the kid’s father is one of our board directors and he’s not very happy about it so—”

Thump. “Junsu baby~” Thump, thump, thump. “I know you’re in there. Don’t think I didn’t see you at the parking lot, bunny! Did you just pretend not to know me?” Thump, thump. “I’m hurt, you know!” Thump!

“Yoochun-hyung, stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Junsu said, before he—well, Junsu was one of the most fearless, ruthless people that Changmin knew in his life that feared nothing short of an upset kitten, which suited his job as a hostile takeover specialist, but he—ran away. To the kitchen.

Changmin smirked as he unlocked the door and one Park Yoochun came tumbling in, curly hair flying all over the place, looking drunk even without alcohol because it was his default expression. His little brother followed dutifully behind him, trying to look as small as possible from the embarrassment.

Changmin could sympathize with that. After all, Jaejoong wasn’t Yoochun’s soulmate for nothing if not their fascinating capacity of embarrassing their general vicinity.

Yoochun looked at Changmin, blinking. “Hi.” Yoochun said, normal as anything. He blinked again, before he very rudely ogled at Changmin’s glowing red nose. “Dude, you look like a very big, sexy Terminator on antichrist mission.”

Changmin scowled.

“I mean that in the most loving, sexy way.” Yoochun assured.

Before Changmin could say anything, Yoochun was already floating down to the kitchen as if he could smell Junsu from in there.

“Susu~”

“Yah!” Junsu squealed from the kitchen, followed by vague sounds of attempted murder. Changmin worried. For his fridge. “I still have standing restraining orders against you, Park! Aiiiieee, get away from me!”

Well, good to see those two hadn’t changed. Since last week. Changmin wondered why Junsu didn’t just give in already, considering that they had been at it since college, but then he remembered that Yoochun was still sort of married with his fourth wife.

Yoohwan bowed at Changmin, carrying a tiny, fat, pink bundled, drooling baby girl in his arms. “Sorry about that, Changmin-hyung.” He smiled sheepishly, bouncing the baby who was valiantly trying to swallow her own fist and seemed to be quite successful at it, too. “You know what Yoochun-hyung’s like.”

But Changmin didn’t hear him. He was staring at the baby, who was staring back at Changmin with round, brown unblinking eyes. It was cute, in a little disgusting sort of way because she looked like a miniature Yunho slobbering all over Yoohwan’s very obviously designer sweater.

“… Is that Jiyool?” For some reason, she looked alarmingly huge compared to the last time Changmin saw her.

Yoohwan looked down on the baby and grinned. “Yeah, she is. Isn’t she the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?” He cooed at the baby girl, who drooled even more at the attention, and ticked her chin.

He was looking at her adoringly, so much that Changmin thought it couldn’t have been healthy.

The baby slapped Yoohwan’s chin and gurgled happily.

“You’re good with her.” Changmin noted, flatly. “There’s a very healthy motherhood glow about you since I last saw you at Yoochun-hyung’s third wedding.”

Yoohwan laughed, unaffected by Changmin’s bluntness, smoothly avoiding Jiyool when she tried to butt Yoohwan’s nose with her forehead. He scooted the baby at Changmin’s direction, “Do you want to hold her?”

Changmin quickly shook his head and took a step back, because honestly, babies freaked him out a little.

“She’s not going to bite, you know.”

“Yes, she does.” Changmin said, full of conviction as he unconsciously rubbed on his nose. “They all do. They’re just waiting for the right time to strike when you’re least expecting it.”

Because the last time he carried Jaejoong’s innocent looking, mochi like niece, the little brat had nearly taken his nose off his face.

“Well, they don’t always.” Yoohwan conceded. He paused, then furrowed his eyebrows, “You don’t… like kids, hyung?”

Changmin frowned, “I don’t hate them or anything if that’s what you mean. But I know they don’t like me that much either.”

“But Jaejoong-hyung is good with kids, isn’t he? I heard him telling Yoochun-hyung once that if men could get pregnant, he would already. Get pregnant, I mean. With triplets.”

“I’m not going to comment anything because that sounded so many levels not okay.” Changmin said, rubbing at the back of his own neck. “But yeah, I know that he adores all manner of brats under the terrible ninety centimeters mark—god knows why—and I know he’s been hinting on the idea of adopting for a while now.”

He loved Jaejoong, as self-sabotaging the idea as it was, and he really could imagine spending his whole life with the man. But adopting? That sounded scarily like a self-life-sentence.

“You should consider the idea though, hyung.” Yoohwan said, nuzzling Jiyool’s soft baby hair with his nose and tickling her with his sniffing. Jiyool whined and wiggled cutely. “They’re okay to have around. Make things a lot more fun on most days. And I know you and Jaejoong-hyung will make wonderful parents.”

Yeah, Jaejoong would.

Yoohwan’s smile was near blinding and Changmin could only swallow, “… Yeah.” He glanced at Jiyool, then squinted, “Maybe.”

Why was he even considering this so seriously all of a sudden?

Yoohwan laughed at Changmin’s painfully awkward response and shook his head. “Hyung, you and Jaejoong-hyung have been together for… what, six years? Topics like kids and adopting are bound to pop up sometimes.”

Changmin groaned. Of course he knew that. “I just… I just don’t get why it has to.”

Yoohwan looked pensive, thoughtful.

“Well, people told me that kids bring about a sense of completeness to a relationship. You know, like a bonus of happily ever after? I guess everyone is looking for their own perfect ending,” Yoohwan said, his eyes much older than his years,

Genetic, Changmin decided right then, was a very, very strange thing. The fact that the intelligent, mild-mannered Yoohwan was in any way related to that overgrown sleaze ball was enough to raise some very difficult, though dubious, scientific discussions.

“A lot didn’t find them, take our parents for example. Some said it’s impossible to find. But personally, hyung, I think you and Jaejoong-hyung are pretty damn close.”

Changmin sighed again, feeling very out of sorts for some reasons. “Somehow, I think that’s just the sentimentality of the notion. In reality, I don’t think having kids is as emotionally healthy as they made it out to be.”

There would be a lot of parental responsibilities, tantrum fits, teenage rebellions, and lots and lots of money involved. Less time alone. Less sex. Just thinking about it was already giving him indigestion.

“Well, I would say that they’re easy to have around too, but they’re really not, hyung. It’s going to be hard, especially in the beginning. They will be instinctively suspicious.”

Changmin frowned, “But they’re just kids.”

“Exactly. I helped in raising Jiyoolie, hyung.” Yoohwan said, “And I think she knows by now that I love her very much, but I think she also knows I’m not her mother. There’s always that distance.” Yoohwan sounded almost wistful, filled with longing, “In reality, I’m just babysitting her for Yunho-ssi.”

The taller man really didn’t know what to say to that.

“Oh, speaking of Yunho-ssi, he’s going to be here soon by the way. His car got towed somewhere in Banpo-dong.” Yoohwan said, obviously trying to redirect the topic.

Changmin snorted, “Typical of Yunho-hyung.”

Yoohwan nodded, jiggling a fussy Jiyool in his arms, “He couldn’t get a taxi because he left his wallet somewhere and you know he always left his phone at a different place. I think he managed to call Heechul-ssi from a public phone from somewhere though, so Heechul-ssi will pick him up after he got off work.”

Changmin nodded in familiar understanding. Yunho once got back to the dorm without remembering where he put the car key (it turned up in his pocket with his dorm keys). He didn’t even remember where he left the car. So how did he get back?

“Did you know that he actually managed to accidentally lock himself outside the house in nothing but his boxers and socks in the middle of the night?” Yoohwan sighed, his suffering long. “Yeah, that was last week. I don’t know how he even managed to survive so long without any life-changing surgeries.”

“Well, you’re the one who’s dating the man. How would I know if you don’t?”

While it had been a little fascinating when he first found out about gentle, mostly normal Yoohwan dating Yunho a while back, Changmin couldn’t say it was such a bad thing now. Yoohwan wanted someone who would take his feelings seriously and Yunho kind of needed someone who could look after him and Jiyool all the time.

Jaejoong thought it was “super cute” but that was just Jaejoong.

All involved parties were mostly just worried about how Yoochun would react to it when he found out because he was always a little crazy when it concerned his baby brother’s virtue.

Yunho and Yoohwan would probably have to elope to some third world non-English speaking countries because Yoochun would probably try to assassinate Yunho in his sleep with that stuffed deer Yunho still had on his bed from age six to twenty six before going into depression period.

“I kind of told my mom about me dating Yunho-ssi. You know, just in case Yoochun-hyung found out before we’re ready to tell him.”

Changmin blinked, hard. Apparently, he had spoken the last bit out loud, “You what?”

“Told my mom,” Yoohwan repeated, shifting on his feet and prodding at something invisible on the carpet, “Surprisingly, she was pretty chill about it. I’m just glad she didn’t freak out or anything because Yunho-ssi’s a man and a widower.”

“I think after the Greek tragedy that was your brother’s third divorce, you dating a somewhat decent, mostly morally upright, and very single man whose wife died honourably a year ago during child birth is the least of your mother’s big concerns in life.”

Yoohwan nodded absently, “Mom loved him, by the way. Yunho-ssi, I mean.” He added, like they could be talking about anyone else. “She said he was charming, financially stable, and well, he’s older than me so I guess she thought he could look out for me or something.”

Changmin snorted again.

“Oh, Yunho-ssi also fixed our heater when he came over last time. And he complimented mom’s hair and cooking. So yeah, instant brownie points. For mom anyway.”

Changmin rolled his eyes. Yunho never changed, because even though he was probably the kindest between the five of them, he was probably the fakest one too. Changmin meant that in the nicest way possible, of course.

“Besides, mom has a weak spot the size of China for grand, romantic gestures. You know, love conquers all and saves the world from devastation? She probably thinks our relationship is Shakespearean or something.”

It would be Shakespearean when Yoochun found out alright. Like Romeo and Juliet. Or Othello. Or maybe both.

“I thought we were clear that your mom wasn’t the main issue? What about Yoochun-hyung?”

“Mom said that she’ll talk to hyung about it.” Yoohwan said uncertainly, then shrugged vaguely, “Well, eventually. It’s been two weeks since then and no one is dead or anything so I guess she hasn’t.”

The Jung himself materialized by the doorway about five minutes later, appearing strangely remorseful with an irritated Heechul leading him.

Apparently, Heechul had, for some ill-advised reasons, decided to trust Yunho’s sense of direction and the man had gotten the both of them driving around in circles because he remembered a wrong right turn somewhere.

Why Heechul even bothered with Yunho questionably damaged navigation skills when there were such things such as smart phones with satellite GPS was out of him, but he never did understand the things that Heechul did most of the times.

Yunho shuffled about behind Heechul, making the act of putting away shoes appear like self-chastening. His whole countenance changed when he caught sight of his younger lover and daughter though, moving in to kissing a squawking Jiyool’s face all over until the baby kicked him on the chin.

When Yunho just laughed it off and grabbed on Jiyool’s feet to tickle her toes instead, Changmin couldn’t help himself from blurting, “… Is that really fun?”

“Huh?” Yunho echoed.

“That’s supposed to be fun?” Changmin said again, more to himself this time. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Huh?” Yunho repeated.

Yoohwan just smiled knowingly at Changmin’s thoughtful frown and whispered to Yunho, “I think Changmin-hyung and Jaejoong-hyung are planning to have a baby soon.”

Yoohwan giggled infectiously and Yunho smiled back, though completely confused, and he was about to kiss Yoohwan for being so cute when Yoochun was suddenly, unwillingly dragged back to the hallway by an equally unwilling looking Hyukjae.

Hyukjae stared between the three of them, grimaced, and proceeded to dump Yoochun on Yunho. “Yeah, no,” He paused and finally settled on begging, “Just stay here. Please. Junsu will kill both of us if you don’t.”

After that, Hyukjae ran back to the kitchen, leaving a sulking Yoochun behind. Yoochun muttered darkly about Hyukjae’s fate and Changmin almost felt pity for Hyukjae.

“I bet monkey boy just want a piece of those luscious, succulent buns for himself.”

But Lee Hyukjae was completely straight, Changmin thought. But he decided not to say anything because Yoochun was impossible to reason with when it concerned Kim Junsu.

“You could take him,” Yunho said loyally to Yoochun.

Yoochun huffed self-importantly, “Of course I could take him.”

Changmin rolled his eyes.

“I heard Jiyoolie! Is she here already?”

Jaejoong, who had been puttering about in the kitchen all the while, suddenly poked his head in the hallway, brightening like LED bulb when he caught sight of the baby girl in Yoohwan’s arm.

“Uwaaaa, Jiyoolie! I miss you so much~ Do you miss Jae Jae too~?”

Jaejoong gently plucked the baby from Yoohwan, cuddling her to his chest and cooing and twirling her around, causing Jiyool to shriek in delight, looking so natural with a baby that Changmin felt like he was gut-punched.

Yoohwan shot him another knowing smirk.

… Great.

- - - - -

Dinner was done a la carte buffet and by the end of it, Changmin was close to committing a strategic second degree mass murder over a piece of ham, Yoohwan was trying to keep Junsu from stabbing his brother with a fork, while Hyunjoong and Jaejoong were already all over each other in a pile of drunken mess with Seunghyun goading them with endless supply of whiskey.

Changmin sighed as he went over to Seunghyun, stopping him from handing the pair another glass of whiskey, earning blubbered, simultaneous protests. “Don’t give him anymore, hyung. Alcohol is bad for his legs and I’m the one who has to deal with the consequences later.”

Seunghyun cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the tipsy Jaejoong, who had abandoned Hyunjoong after the brunet passed out cold on the floor, and was currently giggling and clinging onto Kyuhyun’s side, the latter looking half-flushed half-mortified.

“What? Do they swell or something?”

“No. They spread.”

Seunghyun stared at him.

Changmin shook his head, “You look so precious when horrified.”

“Changmin-ah!”

Changmin choked when Jaejoong suddenly hip-attacked him, effectively tackling him onto the couch. Changmin was then forced to manoeuvre a bit as Jaejoong climbed into his lap, beaming. Changmin looked back at him warily and they spent the next five minutes just staring until Yunho cleared his throat loudly.

“What do you want now, hyung?” Changmin asked finally.

Jaejoong perked, like he had been waiting for Changmin to say that. “I’ve always wanted to try this.” He wriggled some more on Changmin’s lap until he was sitting directly on top of Changmin’s crotch, hands locked behind Changmin’s nape. “Santa, there’s something I want for Christmas.”

At this point, Yunho and Yoohwan looked politely away, steering Jiyool’s line of sight somewhere more appropriate for her age.

Jihyo and Kyuhyun stared at them. Junsu stared at them. Yoochun stared at Junsu, while devouring the eggnog-without-the-eggs.

Shirota settled on looking bitter before leaving the room. Hyukjae and Seunghyun just looked mostly horrified before Hyukjae started gulping down cola to make himself drunk. Geunyoung looked on confused.

Boa was leering. And Heechul… Heechul was also leering.

“I’m Rudolph.” Changmin deadpanned, “And while it doesn’t seem to bother you in the slightest trying to seduce me in that outfit, I am greatly disturbed.”

Jaejoong pouted again, shameless. “So we’re not gonna play the tell secret desires to Santa?”

“No.” Changmin said, dead serious, before trying to roll Jaejoong to his side on the couch but Jaejoong was clinging to him like an Amazonian leech. “We are not. Why? Because I’m Rudolph and because I said so. Now get off me.”

“You won’t do it even in Christmas spirit?” Jaejoong asked again, looking up miserably with fake wobbling lips and wet eyes.

“I’m a Buddhist.” Changmin said as dry as possible, which was pretty dry.

“Ooh, the Santa is Buddhist~” Yoochun slurred, in his limited English and laughed hysterically on his own, all the while cradling the eggnog bowl.

Changmin sighed loudly, rubbing his forehead. Oh, his migraine. “Can someone stop feeding him the eggnog? It’s making him think he’s actually American.” He glared pointedly at Yunho, who was busy trying to make his baby girl spit poor Mangdongie’s ears that she had taken as chew toy, the tiny Maltese whimpering at her mercy.

Yunho quickly snatched the bowl of eggnog from Yoochun, who blinked then flailed.

“But my eggnogs~”

“Yoochunie,” Yunho started, patiently holding Yoochun by the forehead at arm’s length away, “Go bother Junsu.”

Yoochun blinked again and went willingly.

“I can appreciate Buddhism, no problem.” Jaejoong chirruped, smiling cutely and being stubborn all at once. “And Rudolph can be a good, helpful boy and get across my message to Santa later.”

Changmin recognized a fight he wouldn’t win when he saw it, so he sighed and blew on his bangs instead, “Fine.” He scooted Jaejoong up like the man weighed cotton and settled him onto his thighs.

All lucid pairs of eyes plus a squawking Jiyool’s were suddenly turned to him and it just hit him like a bullet in the face what he had gotten himself into.

He glanced at Jaejoong, who looked bubbly with anticipation and Changmin inwardly bemoaned the “things that he did for Kim Jaejoong” as he cleared his throat and said, “… T-Tell Santa what do y-you… want… for Christmas, J-Jaejoong-ah?”

“Man, you guys are so fucked up.” Boa commented from the side, trying to target her mouth with the glass but kept missing and spilling on Seunghyun.

Junho and Kyuhyun were watching full of fascination from their place on the floor. Hyukjae was still trying to drink himself drunk with cola while Junsu sat next to him, primly inspecting his perfectly manicured nails while ignoring Yoochun, who was clinging to Junsu’s leg and rubbing his face there, with practiced ease.

Heechul was still leering.

Changmin glared at all of them.

Jaejoong, who didn’t seem to mind the attention at the slightest, titled his head to the side and dropped his eyes down at Changmin’s covered crotch. They lit brighter than the damn tree. “All I want for Christmas is inside your pants, Santa.”

Changmin heard Junho let out a poorly disguised hacking cough while Yunho and Hyukjae hacked violently on their drinks and proceeded to die. Boa just snorted into her wineglass of kiwi punch and made a series of complicated eye rolls, Kyuhyun yawned, while Geunyoung still looked completely bemused.

Heechul’s leer by now was effectively capable of making a full-grown man cry.

Junsu finally kicked Yoochun.

Changmin felt like kicking himself as his cheeks and ears burned up. “Oh for—Hyung, get off me. Now. Or I’m not giving you anything from inside anywhere.”

Jaejoong stared at him, opting to be gut-wrenchingly cute, “Not even if you can punish me for being a bad boy, Santa? I’ve been a very, very baaad boy~”

“Stop talking to my dick, hyung.” Changmin pinched Jaejoong’s cheeks, stretching his lips while at it, and lifted his gaze to Changmin’s face-level and the younger man smirked, “And bad boys don’t get Christmas presents from Santa.”

Jaejoong pouted, sniffing when Changmin plucked him from his lap and deposited him in the empty space next to him.

“You’re such a meanie.”

Changmin grinned, “I try very, very hard.”

- - - - -

After dinner, while leaving the other to procrastinate in the living room with Changmin and Seunghyun playing the babysitters, Jaejoong managed to bully a few people into doing the dishes with him because he was a petty tyrant like that.

Yunho and Hyukjae were roped in almost immediately and Junsu had actually offered to help. But that was just because he was avoiding Yoochun.

“I can’t believe him!” Junsu said as he furiously scrubbed on a plate, looking strangely at home wearing a frilly pink dish apron—Jihyo and Boa’s idea of a joke—over his designer clothes. “Why can’t he just leave me alone? And what the fuck happened to my restraining orders?” He scrubbed harder.

Jaejoong hummed as he flicked soap suds at Hyukjae and Yunho. Hyukjae looked generally harassed, but dutiful. Yunho dropped a plate. “Well, I just think it’s super cute that he’s still in love with you even after ten years.”

Junsu scowled at his plate, “He’s a frivolous bastard who can’t keep it in his pants to save his life. If you happen to forget something, hyung, you attended all his four weddings and two of his divorce trials!”

“Well, Yoochunie is a little… fussy.”

Yunho hand-slipped with another plate. He stared sadly at the million glass pieces on the floor before he went to get the broom.

“Fussy! None of his relationships ever lasted longer than a long bathroom trip!” Junsu huffed, “I’m surprised that none of his exes had lined up in front of his door to kill him. Or castrate him. Yes, castrate is good. And everyone wondered why I never dated the perv in college.”

Jaejoong opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, paused, and he must have thought better of it, because he said instead, “Well, I dated the Shim for six years and everyone wondered about that, too. But that’s because he’s kind of a six-and-one-and-a-half inches dick and that gets me hot.”

Junsu suddenly looked thoughtful and Hyukjae meep-ed.

Yunho returned with the broom but he accidentally nudged a stack of clean plates into the floor with his butt. He was vetoed out of the kitchen after that to avoid more innocent plate murders. Yunho trudged away from the kitchen with his head hung low like a kicked puppy.

Jaejoong smiled serenely, brimming with innocence. “I mean six feet one and a half inch tall dickhead.” He grinned, “And that gets me very hot.”

“You totally did that on purpose!” Hyukjae sputtered, shuddering.

Junsu remained wholly undisturbed, “But just how did you end up with him anyway? I mean, you guys were friends since forever. I get that. But how did you end up dating him?”

Changmin was more sarcastic than Junsu could handle most of the time and he didn’t understand half of the things Changmin said for the rest of it.

If he had to be fair, Changmin was more “sly” than actually hostile, but Junsu’s basic parameter of common sense didn’t exactly cover how a normal human being could date Shim Changmin. For six years.

Not that Jaejoong was the shining example of “normal.” Junho still affectionately thought Jaejoong was an alien.

Jaejoong’s eyes lit up suddenly. Which was pretty alarming, “Oh, you remember that Christmas party six years ago at Jihyo-noona’s place?”

Junsu raised an eyebrow, “The one where Jisung ended up dancing on the table in a speedo, Yoohwan ended up swallowing a pack of condoms under the mistletoe because he refused to kiss Kim Jongwoon, and Yunho ended up in the seven-minute closet with that transvestite with the hairy legs?”

“It was Hangeng by the way.” Jaejoong said, “The transvestite. Heechul thought it would help him blend in with the local culture.”

The eyebrow rose higher, nearly disappearing under Junsu’s blue hair, “By dressing him in drag?”

Jaejoong shrugged, “It’s Heechul.”

“So what happened back at Jihyo-noona’s place?” Hyukjae interrupted before the conversation could spiral into something more awkwardly embarrassing.

“Did you remember me and Changmin having a little… uh, tiff before that?” Jaejoong bubbled as he suddenly obsessed over a cowlick he spotted sticking out on the side of his head on the stainless steel surface of their fridge. He couldn’t get it to lie down and he fussed with it.

Junsu made a disgusted face, “You mean the month-long cold war period that you two spent looking moony and as miserable as sick puppies on angst steroids?” He gestured the air vaguely, “Changmin’s best-friend-hyung-love-freak-out era? That? Yeah, I remember that.”

“I just love the way you put it, Junsu-yah. It sounds… debonair.” Jaejoong mmh-ed.

“Do you even know what that means?”

“Anyway, how we got together was sort of romantic. Shakespearean even.” Jaejoong said, non-sequitur, “Changminnie kind of went out all Mike Tyson to save me from this perv who was trying to feel me up at the party because I was drunk. And oh god, he looked so hot all angry and growling like that.”

Hyukjae scratched his hair, confused. Well, it did sound a little romantic, a somewhat typically violent sort of way.

“Then he dragged me away and locked us up in Jihyo-noona’s bathroom. He brought an actual mistletoe above our heads and he was blushing and I was like “awww, so sweet” because damn, Changmin is sexy when he’s trying to be mushy.”

Jaejoong looked extremely pleased with life, which at least made one of them.

“And he was like “hey, I think we should kiss wanna kiss” and it was so unff and all, I couldn’t have said no.”

Junsu and Hyukjae just stared at him, because it looked like the safest option to take at this point.

Jaejoong had given up trying to smooth down the cowlick and just suddenly decided that it was cute anyway, like a charm point. He poked at the wayward lock of hair, smiling when it just coiled back cutely. “That must be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and Lee Taemin asked me out once.”

“Umm, that was… very sweet?” Hyukjae tried, because really, what else could he say to that?

“I appreciate people who are straightforward,” Jaejoong explained.

Neither Junsu nor Hyukjae asked him anything more on the topic for a long time after that.

- - - - -

It was nearly midnight when the lights suddenly went off without warning.

For a second, Changmin wondered if it was a power failure before he realized that the sound system was still playing. Then, he was suddenly pulled forward by the collar and found himself kissing a pair of familiar lips.

Changmin kissed back, because it was the most natural thing to do as his hand found their usual spot on thin, girly waist.

They were not the only couple in the room that was quick to steal a kiss in the momentary darkness, but Changmin had all the rights in the world to feel like they were.

Jaejoong pulled away breathlessly, his eyes gleaming even in the dark and Changmin could trace a pleased smile playing on his puffy lips with his own.

“Merry Christmas, Changmin-ah.”

Before he even got to say it back, the light was switched on again—just as suddenly as it went off—and Changmin realized something in the room had shifted, the status quo, a current, or maybe just the general feel of it.

He realized what exactly shifted when Jaejoong tugged him towards the kitchen’s direction and he nearly squealed, sort of embarrassingly, when he saw the girls plus Jaejoong’s two sisters, Minyoung and Sooyoung (Changmin didn’t even know they were here), setting the buffet table that now looked like a homemade version of cake opera with a cocktail combo assortment of mini gingerbread cheesecake, red velvet Bûche de Noël, triple-brownies raspberry trifle, hazelnut praline torte, toasted coconut and vanilla bean meringues, even the traditional pumpkin pie with pecans and spice.

And was that—

“Eggnog mousse cake? With almond dacquoise?”

“Yeah,”

Changmin had to take a deep breath.

And sitting in the middle of it all was a croquembouche, obviously handmade and shaped like Christmas tree, a glittering high-piled cone of chocolate truffles, whipped ice cream profiteroles, and macarons (salted milk caramel, bourbon, blueberry, chai, coffee feuilletine, liquorice, pistachio, raspberry, matcha) held together with webs of thick, gooey caramel strings and peppered with sugared powder almond and cinnamon.

It was half his height, looked sweet enough to kill a grown man with immediate diabetes, and fuck, he loved his boyfriend.

He was so going to get some of those adoption papers even if it killed him, Changmin decided, staring so much that he only realized he did that when someone (Yunho, who’d probably decided to take pity on him before he drowned in his own pool of drool or something) closed his jaw for him.

He elbowed Yunho painfully in the ribs and scowled when he realized that the rest of the party was already crowding his kitchen’s space, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the buffet table.

He turned away again and when his eyes landed back on the buffet table, Changmin’s eyes turned dreamy and he looked so alarmingly moved like he could cry. He sniffed instead, “You—I don’t—just how did—?”

“I sent an emergency SOS signal earlier.” Jaejoong explained, grinning sheepishly, “Called my mom and a few sisters to help out when you went to get the snow cones.”

Ah, so that was why he was so adamant about getting the damned snow cones. Changmin suddenly felt a little guilty for leaving that explicit voicemail on his mailbox. He wondered if he could get around deleting it before Jaejoong got to it.

But then again, with his brand of humour, Jaejoong might find it funny instead.

“I just… wanted everything to be perfect for you. I thought we should have something special, you know? Considering that this is our sixth year anniversary and all that too, and I really, really wanted to surprise you for a change, and well—Surprise!”

Jaejoong was babbling so Changmin leaned forward and pressed their lips together. It was so suddenly, so unexpectedly that Jaejoong could do nothing but freeze very awkwardly.

“It’s perfect.” Changmin grinned when pulling away, his left eye crinkling, mismatching the right, and cheeks pinking, “You’re perfect.”

Jaejoong stared at Changmin, a hand over his mouth because holy shit, did Shim “how about if I staple my PDA to your eyeballs if you try that” Changmin just kiss him in front of the very people who could be their whole career in social life?

Changmin was already scrambling to the buffet table before Jaejoong could say anything else, staring dreamily at the dainty confectionaries before shoving Yoochun away from poking his croquembouche, baring his teeth threateningly when Yunho was about to touch the eggnog mousse cake, and elbowing Shirota shamelessly aside (the man wasn’t even near the buffet table).

The sight made Jaejoong toss his head back and laugh, running after to pinch and pull Changmin’s now cake-stuffed puffy cheeks so hard, the younger man nearly dislocated something when he one-touched him back just as hard.

As hard as they loved each other.

-

-

11:49 PM, 25th December 2008
Fact: The Inner Contents of Mistletoes’ Fruit, Viscin, Bears a Great Resemblance to Human Semen.

Changmin decided to confront Jaejoong during a Christmas party at Song Jihyo’s place. Her parents left on a six-week cruise on the Aegean Sea and left the house to their daughter and their partially deaf, genial Pilipino housekeeper.

It was impossible for Jihyo to resist the temptation of throwing an American-style frat party of sort given the situation.

He knew Jaejoong would be invited because Jaejoong was always invited everywhere.

Changmin had waited all night for a chance to strike, imitating a hunter waiting to go in for the kill, which was dumb because it was only Jaejoong who was his best friend. The chance came when Jaejoong stood up from the small group of people playing rum-and-cola bong to go to the toilet.

Changmin followed him at a distance, watching amusedly as a wide-eyed, incoherently mumbling Jaejoong stumbled and nearly tripped everywhere, bumping into things, and clinging on walls, attempting to crawl on them, obviously out of it.

He even bowed in apology at a fat dynasty Ming vase he nearly toppled over from a stand, mistaking it for Yunho (“Sorry—Oh, Yunja-yah! How did you get so fat in one night, Yunja~?” He flailed then giggled then stopped suddenly) and Changmin had to smile.

Jaejoong was a cute drunk.

Apparently, the amount of alcohol he’d had effectively killed his already impaired internal GPS so Jaejoong was going around in small circles and rubbing his cheeks in frustrations while trying to figure out which way to go when the toilet was just ahead and right of him.

Changmin chuckled quietly, all nervousness gone, and he was about to approach Jaejoong when Changmin noticed one of their seniors, a lean, rather sensual stranger—the kind who looked like a sexual predator and knew it, too—who was leaning languidly against a nearby wall, smoking a cigarette.

The man was gazing at Jaejoong with predatory gleam in his eyes, lips curling into a thin-lipped smirk as he blew a smoke ring and dropped the bud, toeing it on the marbled surface before he headed for Jaejoong.

Changmin gritted his teeth, knuckles white, watching narrow-eyed as Jaejoong staggered again, this time falling conveniently into the stranger’s open arms.

Jaejoong looked up groggily, completely defenceless. The stranger smiled beatifically, offering to bring Jaejoong to rest up at one of the rooms upstairs, voice soft and husky, full of promises as he whispered right into Jaejoong’s ears, “You are so drunk, sweetheart.”

Large, obtrusive hands found purchase on the slim waist and soft, exposed skin. He gently manoeuvred a confused Jaejoong to the stairs, the unfamiliar face alight with anticipation as Jaejoong moaned slightly in disorientation, weakly clinging to the man for support when they started walking.

Before Changmin even realized what he was doing, he was already walking up to the pair, in large, vengeful strides before he grabbed the stranger by the shoulder, turned him around and socked the man on the jaw with almost enough force to take a head off the neck before anyone could do something.

Not that they would do anything though, because Shim Changmin was rather notorious and he wasn’t afraid to cause trouble or break things—and bones—when pissed.

That, he was this six feet two guy who had taken up boxing since middle school as a hobby.

The commotion seemed to wake Jaejoong though and, while he wasn’t sure what exactly just happened, he was watching Changmin—his Changmin, who seemed impossibly taller and so much more handsome than he had been a month ago, but maybe that was just Jaejoong who was missing him a little too much—with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Changmin glanced coldly at the sprawled man groaning on the floor before turning his eyes to Jaejoong, who stiffened at the attention then shuffled on his feet like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to run to Changmin or away.

Changmin felt like saying something but he bit the insides of cheeks instead, holding back from shouting something stupid in front of captive audience.

So instead, he reached forward and tugged on Jaejoong’s thin wrist, landing another swift, but decidedly painful kick at the man who was still prostrated on the floor, causing him to choke in pain, before half-dragging Jaejoong away, the smaller man stumbling after him, unable to match his wider strides but too afraid to say anything.

Jaejoong felt himself panicking a little inside. While he knew that Changmin would never do anything to hurt him—well, maybe a little if their one-touches were anything to go with, but Changmin would never really harm him. That much—Jaejoong had never seen Changmin so mad either.

That was saying something because Changmin was mad a lot.

Jaejoong found himself being shoved into one of the bathrooms on the first floor, eyes widening when Changmin followed him inside and closed the door behind him, pawing the lock.

Changmin honestly didn’t know what he was doing, locking himself with Jaejoong in Jihyo’s bathroom when he was supposed to be declaring his fucking grand love to the man.

He’d rehearsed this, played it over and over again in his head, using his pillow and Junsu as occasional practice targets—which nearly made Junsu cry in mortification—and made a fucking script on the back of his planner.

He opened his mouth, closed it again.

“C-Changmin-ah?” Jaejoong wet his lips, unsure.

Changmin’s first instinct was to kiss those lips until his brain broke. His second was to run away. Maybe to Japan or Antarctica so he could make friends with the polar bear community there and become a nomad Eskimo or something because Jaejoong was staring at him like Jaejoong wasn’t sure what to do besides looking very awkward.

No one said anything for a painfully long time.

Both of them jumped, startled, when some delirious, weed-smoked drunk outside suddenly banged on the door, rattling the knob and slurring at them to “hurry the fuck up” because he needed to take a piss.

Changmin scowled and slammed the side of his fist against the door hard enough to take the paint off, nearly missing how Jaejoong jumped again at the sound. “Fuck off,” He growled and the rattling stopped.

Jaejoong shrunk even more and cast his eyes down, feeling smaller, because after nearly a month of almost no direct contact, Changmin suddenly seemed so much bigger—seriously, would the boy ever stop growing, Jaejoong had stopped growing years ago—stronger, his hands so much larger and—what’s that?

Jaejoong’s eyes widened at the sight of the skinny twig in Changmin’s hand, fingers clenched so tight around it, that the edge of Changmin’s fist was a blotchy white.

“… Changmin-ah?”

Jaejoong was drunk, was disoriented, but he was also very aware of Changmin’s presence.

Changmin swallowed thickly, like he had been force fed molasses—or tar, yes, black evil tar—and cleared his throat, awkward as anything. “Yeah. So… uh, I get that we’re supposed to kiss someone under the mistletoe?” Changmin said, not quite a question, waving the mistletoe in his hand.

Jaejoong stared at him blankly. Changmin felt like such a failure.

But then, what seemed like understanding filled Jaejoong’s beautiful eyes, making them brighter, more lucid. With only the slightest bit of hesitation, as if wanting to make sure that he did not misunderstand this, he leaned closer to Changmin and stepped up on his toes, closing their height differences, and giving Changmin enough space to back off comfortably if he did happen to misread it.

“So?” Jaejoong breathed, heart palpitating, threatening to burst and made a very gory bathroom floor.

The younger man stuttered, “S-So, I got this mistletoe—” that he secretly stole from above Jihyo’s entrance hallway (because Jihyo’s idea of a sadistic, evil joke was to trap unwilling, crack-ish couples under the damned mistletoe, one of which resulted in Yoohwan swallowing a pack of condom just so that he didn’t have to kiss Kim Jongwoon when they both happened to arrive at the same time).

“So?” Jaejoong was so close, their faces almost touching, lips brushing against each other in a private bubble.

Changmin felt his face heat up and this was just so embarrassing he could die. “Umm, so—” He cleared his throat then raised the sprig just above their heads and mumbled in gibberish, “So I think I should be kissing… s-someone… no?” He squeaked, embarrassingly, at the end.

Jaejoong closed his eyes. “… Yeah?”

Jaejoong’s lips were dry and slightly salty-tangy-bitter from all the drinks he’d had and Changmin just knew he had been waiting for this all his life and suddenly, he knew what he had to say and do.

Fuck the scripts; he wasn’t in a drama.

Changmin dropped the sprig and Jaejoong squeaked when he found himself being lifted into narrow counter next to the sink. He automatically wrapped his arms around Changmin’s shoulders, his knees bracketing Changmin’s waist as the taller boy stepped into the open v of his legs.

Changmin did not say anything else, lips a hairbreadth away above the openness of Jaejoong’s mouth. Their breaths mingled heavily, each breathing himself more into the other’s lungs until they only knew each other’s air.

This was nice, Changmin thought. Standing up, he was nearly a whole head taller than Jaejoong, but with Jaejoong like this, Changmin only had to tilt just so and Jaejoong would be at the perfect height to kiss.

But then again, Changmin never loved him because he was perfect for Changmin.

There was never a “because.” He just did. Loved.

Yeah, Changmin had kind of loved him all along, didn’t he?

Jaejoong pulled away slightly, reaching up and trapping Changmin’s head so he’d be at direct eye-level with Jaejoong.

They looked into each other’s eyes, so familiar yet so different now that they both got their hearts lined up in the shooting range. Changmin was all too aware that he had Jaejoong caged between him and the counter, Jaejoong breath fanning over his cheek, smelling sweet even with the sharp taste of tequila on his breath.

“… Why now?” Jaejoong asked him, looking helpless and small and sad, and any yellow caution tape that they couldn’t shed as “best friends forever” were ripped down and now everything was laid bare, out in the openness between them.

The question had Changmin feeling like having stomach cramps or vomiting from sheer nerves, but he figured he wouldn’t look so handsome with a potential peptic ulcer.

The older man looked up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes that nearly melt Changmin’s heart into a puddle of goo right there in the middle of the bathroom. “Why now, Changmin-ah? Tell me, I need to know—”

Jaejoong was just so close, too lovely so Changmin kissed him hard on the mouth. Jaejoong frantically returned the kiss with a consuming desperation.

Jaejoong made a soft, breathy hitch at the back of his throat, his wet eyes glazed and skin flushed pink. Changmin suddenly felt like his own skin was too tight and he was hot from his cheeks to his neck and chest as he rubbed slow circles on the smooth, heated skin under Jaejoong’s shirt.

“There’s never been now or then, hyung.” Changmin whispered, nuzzling his forehead against Jaejoong’s.

Jaejoong closed his eyes when Changmin rubbed their noses together, stroking his cheeks with the pads of calloused fingers, a habit that would carry on into their relationship.

“There’s only always been. I just… never realized it.”

When you’ve been right here all along.

“… Oh my god,” Jaejoong muttered, being so close that Changmin was a blur of tanned skin and mismatched eyes as he reached up to pinch Changmin’s cheeks, pulling them to each side, causing the younger man to wince. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” Jaejoong said, full of awe before leaning up to kiss Changmin again.

Changmin laughed, but the sound was muffled because Jaejoong was kissing him again.

He wasn’t sure how long they spent kissing like that, but Changmin never had the chance to do that before, just kiss like they had all the time in the world, even though reality remained that they were locked in Jihyo’s bathroom with some odd thirty people milling about behind two inches of definitely-not-soundproofed wooden door.

There was a singularly delirious moment where Jaejoong wondered if this was still last week, when he fell asleep on the couch with his phone pressed to his forehead, replaying Changmin’s saved voicemails as comfort, and was only dreaming.

But the warm, solid heat that was Changmin’s body was something sublime, the hot slickness of his lips wasn’t something that Jaejoong could’ve ever imagined.

It was just so much better.

With that realization, Jaejoong couldn’t have stopped that dam of swelling, messy emotions within him from breaking if he wanted.

“I love you, Changmin-ah.” He whispered, the words slipping from him easily, familiarly, fitting in between them, into their skin, and remaining there.

“I lo—umm, you know—y-you too.” It was the perfect ending, but he kind of chickened out at the last minute so Changmin fumbled a little and ended up just kissing Jaejoong again, a peck this time, somehow sweet, like candies and first loves.

“… Yeah, I know.” Jaejoong whispered, smiling. He leaned forward to kiss Changmin on the chin before nuzzling Changmin’s neck.

Changmin smelled so good.

Jaejoong closed his eyes, wanting to drown in everything that was Changmin. He would have a very nice dream tonight, preferably filled with this handsome young man that he had been in love with for the last four years.

“Changminnie…?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll wait for you, okay?” He looked up at Changmin, smiling and kissing again, because he could never get enough of kissing Shim Changmin in this lifetime. But don’t make me wait too long.

And Changmin understood.

It would be a year later before Changmin would be able to say the L-word without feeling like running away, without thinking that Jaejoong would slip from his grasp like sand like his mother did so many years ago before she left him and his father for a stranger whose face Changmin didn’t remember anymore but whom he remembered had been nearly half his mother’s age.

His mother was flighty, had always been erratic. She could never really stay rooted in one place and be content with life. She had loved Changmin and his father, but maybe she just loved herself a little more.

But then Jaejoong, his gentle, patient, loving Jaejoong, who was selfless and nothing like his mother, knew him better than anyone else.

And somehow, Changmin knew Jaejoong loved him, more than anyone should ever have really, and knew that his heart would be safe here, locked away in a tiny treasure chest with no keys and remained forever like sands and water and diamonds in the sun.

But for now, Changmin breathed softly, now evenly, because, “Yeah.” Some things didn’t have to be said out loud.

Still, he tightened his hold around Jaejoong, nuzzling his soft hair and neck, until they were waterproof tight and inseparable.

Jaejoong closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, his voice almost dreamy. “Merry Christmas, Changmin-ah.”

He turned his face to the right, whispered, breath sticky against Jaejoong’s ear.

“… Merry Christmas, hyung-ah.”

-

-

02:33 PM, 26th December
Chestnut Roasting on an Open Fire

After the last of the guests left, someone dragging someone else out of the door in a heap, Changmin was quick to change into a pair of sweats before stretching himself out across the L-shaped couch, red socked feet dangling over the armrest with an arm thrown over his eyes, faded background noise of KBS Christmas special encore broadcast playing on the television, the warm glow of the fireplace casting a comfortable hue over the now empty living room.

He was sleepy, well-fed. Perhaps a little drunk, too.

He might’ve fallen a little asleep when he suddenly felt someone—Jaejoong, because really, who else—straddled over him, squeezing into the tiny space left on the couch, and sitting directly on top of Changmin’s crotch.

“You’re heavy,” Changmin griped, grunting when Jaejoong purposely squirmed on his lap.

“Well, I’m comfy,” Jaejoong huffed, moodily tucking his chin on the crook of Changmin’s shoulders.

He turned his face slightly to suck at Changmin’s lower lip, flicking his tongue shyly but obscenely, tugging with teeth and licking at gums. Changmin rolled his eyes, but opened his mouth anyway and let a delighted Jaejoong tangled their tongues until they were both properly hard.

Kissing was good, was nice, was hot. Changmin knew that Jaejoong loved kissing, loved touching, like how he loved being fingered, loved them almost as much as he loved the actual sex and on some days, even more than sex. It was the hopeless romantic in him.

“I have a present for you.”

Jaejoong pulled away, glistening milky skin and dark eyes smouldering with arousal. He manoeuvred slightly and tugged off a tiny piece of underwear, slid it down his long legs and kicked it away smoothly.

“Santa Claus is Coming to Town, big boy.”

Fuuuuuck.

Changmin groaned and cursed. He looked down and painfully realized that Jaejoong was still wearing the stupid Santa suit, only this time, without the pants and only donning on a pair of red pantyhose under the coat.

“Great,” He would never be able to hear that stupid song again without popping something in his pants.

He hated Jaejoong sometimes. Not literally, of course. Well, maybe just a little because Jaejoong was going to be the death of him one of these days and Changmin was too helplessly in love to stop it from happening.

“I told you, I have a present for you.” Jaejoong whispered hotly in Changmin’s ear. Their bodies melded together perfectly, familiarly, aligning in all the right places. A brazen, smooth thigh pressed into the sensitive junction of his hips, and Changmin nearly squeaked.

Oh.

This was turning out to be a very sexy Christmas. Changmin likes, said a voice in his head in third person. He thought he should be doing something, saying something to up the ante instead of just being seduced dumbly.

“So, uh…” Changmin paused, “What’s in your stocking?”

There was silence for a long moment before Jaejoong suddenly burst out laughing. Changmin wanted to bury himself under a rock somewhere.

“Eww, Minnie,” Jaejoong giggled, breathless. “That was lame.”

Changmin was about to protest but stopped when he felt Jaejoong’s hand touching here and there and everywhere before slipping under the band of Changmin’s sweats, cupping over the hardening bulge in his boxers, all soft kneading pressure, gentle and knowing.

Changmin clutched Jaejoong’s hips as the older man fisted around his cock, thumbing the tiny slit and coaxing more pre-cum to make it slicker, hands flying over Changmin’s sensitive dick. Changmin gritted his teeth against coming and hissed as Jaejoong pulled his hand away to suck his middle finger into his mouth, giving Changmin a show of his pre-cum smeared against plump lower lip.

Changmin growled and suddenly, they were rolling off the couch and onto the carpeted floor, Jaejoong landing on the remote and turning the volume up with his ass. Changmin scrambled for the mute button, because damn it, he wanted to hear those soft noises Jaejoong made whenever he was a horny mess.

Jaejoong shivered as Changmin bit on his earlobe and whispered into Jaejoong’s ears, “Now who’s the naughty boy, Santa?”

Changmin groped around under the cushion for their emergency lube for late night porn or impromptu couch sex.

He briefly thought about using that peppermint toffee flavoured lube in the bathroom before dismissing it.

He didn’t exactly want a reminder of what happened earlier—his hair still smelled like peppermint toffee and Jaejoong had nearly burst a vessel laughing when Yunho had asked Changmin what shampoo he used and where could he buy some—and besides, Changmin didn’t think that either of them could have lasted half the journey to the bathroom.

He made a triumphant noise when he recovered the bottle. It was already half-empty.

He raised an eyebrow at Jaejoong, who flushed and said, “What? It’s not like you didn’t do it too sometimes.”

Changmin did, but only when Jaejoong was away for business for too long.

“I didn’t say anything, baby.” Changmin said as he kissed Jaejoong again, groping and nearly ripping at the pantyhose and fuck, Changmin thought as the ripping sound sent a jolt to his aching cock.

Jaejoong looked ridiculously gorgeous in red and with the golden orange glow of the fire from the fireplace, he looked almost unreal.

Jaejoong squirmed as he felt the uncomfortably cold, gooey liquid dribble between his buttocks, nearly kneeing Changmin in the face when a large hand cupped one of his ass cheeks and pulled slightly, exposing his quivering, clenching entrance, before two fingers were pressed against the vulnerable pucker, massaging the clear liquid, plunging inside slightly, not very deep or enough, hooking at random as if to spread the slickness against his inner walls.

The older man was still loose from their little morning session and he was so receptive, so sensitive, swallowing everything Changmin gave with a demand for mooo-ah-re!please!yes!

Changmin cursed Jaejoong’s whiny impertinence and yanked his fingers out, lining up his cock with a hand that was trembling in anticipation. Hazily, he thought he was going to come in like two minutes and embarrass himself.

He slowly rubbed the head of his dick between the silken inner parting of Jaejoong’s thighs, until the older man was twisting under him, writhing and slapping on his shoulders as if punishing him for the teasing before Changmin slid inside, long and heavy.

Jaejoong hissed at the stretch—the slide inside smooth, there was only a little burn from the drying lube—until Changmin’s balls nestled against the curve of Jaejoong’s ass.

“Nnh… Changmin…” Jaejoong thrust back against him eagerly, tossing sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes and glanced up at Changmin with half-lidded eyes.

Changmin pulled back, slowly, provoking a long groan from Jaejoong, which turned into a high-pitched moan as he thrust back in.

“Oh, god—Changmin!” Jaejoong whimpered, throwing back his head as his hardworking hips moved in frantic, but fluid rolling motions, trying to get Changmin to the perfect angle.

Changmin gasped, one hand behind Jaejoong’s knee, holding his leg up and against his shoulder. Jaejoong’s soft voice turned high, unchecked, his cock bouncing between their tight, quivering stomach muscles, and Changmin had to pull away, had to turn his face to the side to bite the underside of Jaejoong’s knee, suddenly feeling grateful for such things such as distractions.

Changmin wanted it slow, secretly wanted it loving and tender and romantic, wanting to adore Jaejoong from the tip of his hair to the wiggle of his littlest toe, but Jaejoong was too out of it and the tight, velvety hold of Jaejoong’s body around him was short-circuiting his brain, reducing it to a pile of hormonal mush.

The slick sounds of skin slapping against skin was obscene, each dirty squelch heightening their arousal to the point where it physically hurt and Jaejoong was lost in that sensation of being completely filled, stretched so wide he’d never be able to remember normal again.

Changmin nearly bit his tongue when Jaejoong’s body convulsed around him, as if trying to strangle Changmin’s cock and, for one second, Changmin had a passing stupid thought that Jaejoong was going to take his dick off clean and be done with it.

“God, please… something more…” Jaejoong sobbed, clawing into Changmin’s back like an angry cat.

The angle wasn’t quite right, Changmin growled softly. He wanted the beautiful man pushing back so desperately, so distraught on his cock to lose his mind—too, sooner—at least, before Changmin did.

It was too much and wasn’t enough, so Changmin pulled out despite Jaejoong’s protests and flipped the smaller man over, until he was face down with his ass in the air. He knocked Jaejoong’s knees apart for easier access, all the while keeping his head down with a punishing grip on his hair.

Jaejoong twitched at the rough treatment, his abused hole clenching and unclenching hungrily, needy for something to fill it.

Changmin licked his two fingers until they were properly wet and pressed the pads against Jaejoong’s freshly fucked hole, rubbing against the violently pink opening brutally, and Jaejoong choked, eyes wide and body arching, feeling the pleasure sear like a hot knife against the butter that was his body when those fingers plunged back in and prodded against his prostate.

“Yes, god yes, right there—”

“Shit! You’re such a slut,”

“Yes! Your slut!”

“Goddamn it, hyung—nnh!”

Changmin pulled out his fingers again and pounded back into him, without respite, without falters, his gaze burning on that connection point where he disappeared into Jaejoong’s too hot body, eyes darkening when he saw the creamy whiteness of lube and saliva and cum that coated his cock, making it all the more wet and slippery and—

“Jaejoong-ah, I’m not going to last,” Changmin warned hoarsely, eyebrows furrowing at the excruciating effort against coming.

Jaejoong didn’t seem to have heard him, his world’s focus spun and narrowed down to the baser instinct, to the basic needs, to Changmin. Soft moans spilled from his mouth and his limbs fluttered uselessly in the mindlessness of sex, because god, what else Changmin could be expecting him to do when Changmin was so perfect?

Well, Jaejoong could always settle on looking debauched and so reduced to a shameless, sobbing mess.

Jaejoong pushed the balls of his feet against the carpet, rolling and meeting each hump, each push into his body as Changmin fucked him clean into the rug, his pace blistering and hurting so good, Jaejoong’s breath hitched, stuttering halfway into his lungs.

Changmin grunted, eyes crossing as he reached blindly for Jaejoong’s cock, rubbing the head of the over-sensitized erection and digging the tip of his nail just so into the copiously leaking slit, until Jaejoong was sobbing.

Changmin then leaned down to kiss him, sideways and messy—kiss him like he was trying to steal all the air in Jaejoong’s lungs and replaced it with his own, breathing the colour of lungs and hearts into those lips.

“W-Wait,” Jaejoong started, twisting a little away, but then Changmin brushed against the bundle of nerves deep inside, touching his core in more ways than intimate, and Jaejoong could only arch into it, his eyes rolling shut with a soft whimper.

“God, I love you,” Changmin groaned, feeling Jaejoong throbbed all around him, and stuffed himself so balls deep that Jaejoong would’ve been able to taste come if he swallowed.

Changmin swivelled his hips, rocking deep and not pulling out until Jaejoong reached back and grabbed on Changmin’s ass, urging him to move, slapping his other hand over his own mouth to stifle an obscene cry.

Changmin did it again, then again, and yanked Jaejoong’s hand away from his mouth, locking Jaejoong’s wrist above his head. “Want to hear you,” He panted, wet lips against Jaejoong’s damp, naked, flushed nape, before he pulled out and slammed back in, trying to be gentle and forgetting how.

He wrapped a hand around Jaejoong’s leaking cock again, fist tight and slippery this time, jerking to the bruising pace of their fucking.

“Fuck, fuck, Changmin, baby—” Jaejoong whined hoarsely, biting down on his own lower lip until he could taste blood, contracting his inner muscles almost spastically as he came—came so hard it yanked Changmin’s orgasm along so suddenly that Changmin choked behind him, arms collapsing.

Changmin swore black and blue into the damp air between them as he came, spilling inside, and he fucked into Jaejoong through the aftershock with short, abrupt thrusts as Jaejoong rutted the carpet until they slowed down and Changmin slumped bonelessly on his boyfriend.

Neither of them moved as they tried to breathe and remember about right.

“Get off me,” Jaejoong grumbled, “You’re so heavy.”

Changmin bit on the small of Jaejoong’s back as a response but pulled out with a squelch, both of them moaning at the sensation, before Changmin rolled onto his back beside Jaejoong, chest still heaving as he ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, feeling heavy-limbed and glowing.

Jaejoong didn’t say anything for a long while until, “… I’m going to regret this carpet in the morning, aren’t I?”

Changmin nodded, distracted, “Just regret it in the morning.” He paused, muttering, “Shit. I think I broke my dick.”

“I’m sure the insurance will cover it, Changmin-ah.” Jaejoong mused softly, distantly, “The carpet isn’t included though.”

Changmin scowled, somehow mustering enough energy to jab his two fingers into the side of Jaejoong’s ribs, causing the older man to squirm. “Will you stop talking about the damn carpet now?”

Jaejoong shook his head and closed a hand over his mouth, whatever response he might have had was lost in a huge, exaggerated yawn. Changmin sighed but made a move to stand, with a groan, and head for the bathroom for a pair of damp, small hand towels.

Jaejoong cracked an eye open when Changmin returned and scowled slightly, “That better not be cold, Shim.”

Changmin rolled his eyes at His Divaness, “It’s freezing.” He snorted, even as he spread Jaejoong’s ass cheeks gently and slid the warm towel there, wiping at his drying cum that was dribbling out of Jaejoong’s hole, causing Jaejoong to moan slightly in sensitiveness.

He coaxed the sleepy, content overly large cat to roll over to clean his front. He’d worry about the carpet later.

Changmin tossed the used towels in a hamper in the kitchen before grabbing a tall, frosty bottle of oxygenated mineral water from the fridge. Something round and white bumped against his calf and Changmin looked down to Mangdongie staring up at him with huge doe eyes, her usually immaculate fur slightly askew from Jiyool’s earlier torment.

He petted the tiny Maltese on the head before picking it up and returning to the living room, where Jaejoong was already snoring softly.

He shook his head at his boyfriend’s ability of falling asleep almost everywhere before dropping Mangdongie softly on the couch in the middle of fluffy cushions, where the puppy proceeded to make herself comfortable for the night.

Changmin gathered the smaller man into his arms, easily hoisting him up and cradled to Changmin’s chest.

He carried Jaejoong to the bedroom, carefully depositing him into their bed. The other man just snuggled into a tangle of sheets, squirming around to get the blanket around him and failing.

-

-

03:30 AM, 26th December
One-Hundred More Christmases with You

Laughing quietly, Changmin slid in bed next to Jaejoong, and smiled when Jaejoong opened his fuzzy eyes and wriggled closer to Changmin.

Catching sight of that adorable, bleary-eyed look, Changmin’s heart skipped a happy beat and the bells in his head were ringing again, like the tinkle of bell chimes married in New Year’s dawn.

“… Changmin-ah?” Jaejoong whispered, airy.

Changmin’s thought train of stupid committed suicide halfway and he looked back down on the warm bundle in his arms, “Hmm?”

Jaejoong smiled happily, sleepy now, long lashes fanning against his cheekbones, looking luxuriously lazy and radiant, andshit if Changmin didn’t love that about him—like he loved everything else about Kim Jaejoong, even his random bouts of crazy.

“If humans can live up to a hundred, then I’ll work very hard to live to one-hundred-and-twenty-eight so I can spend the next one hundred Christmases with you, Changmin-ah.”

“That’s sounds scary. Like, life-defying scary.” Changmin said, faking a shudder, and Jaejoong slapped on his chest, pouting.

“Just kidding.” Changmin laughed again, blowing softly and parting Jaejoong’s sweaty bang. He dropped his forehead against Jaejoong’s and rubbed their noses together, his mind going back to Yoohwan’s softly spoken words.

“I guess everyone is looking for their own perfect ending,”

Changmin closed his eyes, cuddled closer, “… Yeah, I’ll eat wheatgrass snow cones and wear stupid costumes with you even when I’m a one-hundred-and-twenty-six year old grandpa with no teeth and wrinkly balls.”

Jaejoong sighed into his neck, nuzzling with his nose contently. “You’re so romantic.”

Changmin shrugged—a subtle movement of shoulder, he didn’t want to jostle Jaejoong—because he wasn’t sure if Jaejoong was being sarcastic or otherwise.

“So it’s okay even if we can’t have sex anymore?”

Changmin grimaced, “Isn’t it creepy if you can still think about sex at that age?”

Jaejoong’s lower lip jutted out and he traced at the random heart patterns and his own name on Changmin’s tanned skin that he made with a glittery purple sharpie during one point of the party. “I wanna have sex with you for the next one-hundred Christmases too. Even if you are a one-hundred-and-twenty-six year old grandpa.”

Changmin flicked his forehead. “That line is so many levels not okay.”

“… ‘s okay…” Jaejoong’s blubbering grew more distant, more incoherent, and Changmin knew he was close to sleep. “Min-ah…”

“Yes, hyung?”

“… ‘m cold, keep me warm?”

Changmin knew that painful, clenching tug in his chest was love swelling within him as Jaejoong’s body unconsciously searched for Changmin’s even in his sleep.

His arms were going to be very dead in the morning, he thought as he pulled Jaejoong’s body to his own, but Changmin was so in love with him that he felt like he was going to die from all the love he felt anyway as he leant down to kiss Jaejoong’s forehead.

“You are going to be the death of me, you know that?”

He whispered, exasperatedly fond, pinching Jaejoong on the nose and snickering when Jaejoong’s nose scrunched up slightly.

This year was a good Christmas too, Changmin thought as he pulled up the blanket, rubbed their cold feet together, and gathered Jaejoong into his arms, feeling that pleasant post-coital exhaustion softening the edges of his mind.

Changmin fell asleep breathing in Jaejoong’s scent.

It still smelled like “home for Christmas.”

Changmin glanced at his boyfriend, catching Jaejoong’s beautiful, smiling eyes as he gazed lovingly at Jiyool, cooing and mumbling, and Changmin knew he never had a way out.

Never wanted a way out.

He didn’t know a thing about perfect, but Shim Changmin knew he already got his happy ending.

-

-

26th December

They didn’t make it out of the bed the next day until late in the afternoon, falling in and out between sleep and sex.

It was only when Changmin’s stomach demanded to eat everything in their overly huge fridge—Changmin bumping their feet together under the bar and linking their ankles—that Jaejoong suddenly remembered that he had a cell phone.

“Do you know I have like thirty-six text messages from Yunho and Yoochun asking if I’m pregnant?” Jaejoong blinked as he picked up Mangdongie onto his lap.

Changmin blinked back.

“Oh, and Junsu is asking us why are we giving Yoochunnie weird ideas because right now he’s propositioning Junsu to carry his evil, greasy spawns? In front of fourth wife-ssi too!”

Changmin choked on his juice.

“Changminnie?”

Changmin spluttered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “So, uh… w-what…” He mumbled, “What do you think about adopting?”

Clatter.

“… Changmin?”