﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

 

It's a week before Christmas when Hansol calls for an urgent meeting in the secluded washroom on the second level of Block F. Hansol had christened that particular washroom as his second home, and taken it upon himself to decorate it a long while ago— no one outside his circle of friends actually uses it, in fear of setting the school’s president off.

 

The empty hallways remind Mingyu of the Halloween party, and he finds himself smiling at the memory. He’s running a little late to the meeting since his math professor held the entire class back after losing his purple marker, completely convinced it was stolen by one of his students only to realize after ten minutes that the damn marker was in his hands all along.

 

Everyone else is already accounted for when Mingyu pushes past the washroom door. His jaw falls. It’s the cleanest and most lavish washroom he has ever been in, with the individual cubicles hidden tastefully in a line by the far wall and vessel sinks perched on what looked like bespoken cabinets. Framed mirrors adorn the walls, making the already large space seem even bigger than before, and Mingyu detects a lovely hint of magnolia and cream in the air. He wants to slap himself when he spots the built-in bathtub at the side, disbelieving his eyes. He wonders just which devil Hansol had sold his soul to for such blatant extravagance.

 

The other boys are littered around the room in variable states of boredom, some standing about, others sprawled on the numerous lounges and bean bags artfully arranged in a cozy fashion.

 

Hansol is standing on the marble countertop, feet on either sides of a sink with an inexplicably bored expression. Wonwoo is sitting cross-legged beside him, and he’s turning the faucet on and off repeatedly, staring blankly at the wasted water that washes down the sink.

 

Jisoo’s wrapping Jeonghan’s right arm up in toilet paper, and Jihoon watches as Seungcheol puts his head under the hand dryer, hot air blowing directly at his face.

 

Student councillors Chan and Seungkwan are present too, playing pattycake in the corner. They all seem like they’ve been waiting for Mingyu forever, and it makes him feel rather guilty.

 

“Mingyu!” he hears someone cry, and hold up, that sounds a lot like...

 

Soonyoung’s face pops up from behind the door, and it almost makes Mingyu’s legs give way in shock. He wasn’t expecting to see his friend here, and he’s even more confused when Seokmin steps out of a cubicle, the toilet flushing behind him. He pushes past his two friends to see literature classmate Junhui and lab partner Minghao reclined on the velvet couch (Hansol had personally requested for it, and since he was still a crucially important asset to the council, the principal had to accommodate him).

 

“Was there recruitment?” Mingyu asks, and he tries not to notice how Wonwoo perks up at the very sound of his voice.

 

“No,” Hansol yells from atop the sink, before attempting to blow bubbles with the bar of soap in his hand, “They’re plus-ones!”

 

“Who on earth would make Soonyoung and Seokmin their plus-one?”

 

Seungkwan’s hand shoots up, but he’s in the middle of his pattycake relay, so Chan accidentally smacks him in the face. He falls over in pain, writhing on the tufted rug they’re seated on.

 

“I made them my plus-one, but you didn’t have to smack me for it,” Seungkwan weeps, hands covering his face. Chan throws himself over the other student councillor, mindlessly rambling all sorts of apologies.

 

“Technically, we’re plus-twos!” Seokmin cheers, plopping himself onto the bean bags that sit snugly in the same corner. He reaches a hand out to pat Seungkwan’s head, “Thanks, man.”

 

“We’re plus-twos too, Chan invited us.” Junhui gives Mingyu a friendly wave, while Minghao gives him the finger in greeting.

 

Hansol hops off of the counter, and ends up tumbling to the ground. The fall doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest, kinda like an indestructible roly-poly doll, and he pulls the beanie he has off his head, beckoning everyone closer.

 

“We’re going to play secret Santa! Everyone has to pick a name from my hat, no excuses.”

 

“The actual , you kept the name slips in the beanie you wore on your head? That’s so disgusting,” Jihoon says, reaching for the bottle of vanilla cupcake-scented hand sanitizer on the sink.

 

Jisoo doesn’t seem to care as he volunteers to pick first, reaching into the bag and pulling out a small square of origami paper. He immediately hugs it against his chest, looking around almost suspiciously, and locks himself up in the furthest cubicle to take a look at it.

 

Seungcheol goes next, and he lets a whoop, punching a victorious fist in the air.

 

Mingyu is about to draw a name when Hansol stops him. He suddenly finds himself wrestled out of the bathroom by Junhui and Minghao, the door closing behind him with a click of the lock. What the ? There’s a ruckus in the washroom, Mingyu can tell from Hansol’s honking noises and Jihoon’s obnoxious laughter, before it goes quiet and Wonwoo is sent to unlock the door. Wonwoo doesn’t offer him any explanation, an unreadable expression on his face, and Mingyu returns to everyone else looking at him like a ing circus act.

 

Hansol holds up the beanie and what the ? Mingyu is presented with a yellow beanie, unlike the white one the president was previously wearing, with slips of paper spilling over its brim.

 

“Take your pick!”

 

“You’re kidding me, this isn’t the same hat.” Mingyu glares at the head councillor, who’s looking so happy to the point it’s suspicious, “Are you rigging my choice?”

 

“What are you saying, everyone else picked from this hat!” Hansol defends himself and widens his eyes to feign innocence, but Mingyu thinks he looks terrifying. Everyone else seems to be backing the head councillor up, and Mingyu has no other choice but to draw a name from the hat.

 

He has a really, really bad feeling about this, and it makes his stomach churn with dread. Mingyu digs through the paper strips (he appreciates that Hansol had the courtesy to at least give him the illusion of choice), and is praying to every deity that comes to his mind to let it be anyone but…

 

Mingyu pulls a slip of paper from the hat and holds his breath as he unfolds it. Hansol’s penmanship is so ing ugly and illegible, Mingyu has to take a moment to decipher the single name written on the paper.

 

Wonwoo.

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

this, Mingyu admits he makes the worst secret Santa ever. Hypothetically speaking, if he was assigned to Seungcheol instead, however, he’d probably be the best gift-giver. They've been exchanging gifts for years, and they have slowly evolved from game cartridges lovingly wrapped in shiny foil (with the help of their mothers) to boxes of condoms and bottles of Windex with a decorative ribbon carelessly slapped onto them. At least they always made the effort to pick the ribbon out in red and green though.

 

Mingyu almost gives himself an aneurysm trying to think of a gift for Wonwoo. Although he has more than a week’s time to deliberate over it, Mingyu doesn’t want to give the councillor any ordinary, run-of-the-mill type of present. He wants to give Wonwoo something with meaning, something that holds more importance than just a simple gift from a friend for reasons he hasn’t yet properly determined. Something more personal? Wonwoo’s definitely worth the extra effort.

 

How about a sweater? No, Wonwoo has an abundance of them, and even seems to have a growing taste for the ones he finds while digging through Mingyu’s closet. If there’s anyone who needs a sweater, it’s Mingyu, considering how he lets the student councillor steal every single last one he owns.

 

The lady in the gift shop proudly recommends a season’s greetings card, and Mingyu wants to cry as he flips through one that reads let me jingle your balls in cursive writing. Clothing stores offer nothing more than a wide arrangement of winter wear— fleece jackets, knitted caps, woolen socks, nothing more than what Wonwoo already owns. Mingyu briefly lingers in the mall’s bookstore, but then again, what’s special about a book when Wonwoo already has a whole collection of them?

 

Cute knick-knacks don't make the cut either, Mingyu thinks they all just end up as playthings to be put on display (just like the Russian doll that Soonyoung gifted him last Christmas; it sits on Mingyu’s tabletop and stares at him with its unmoving, beady eyes).

 

He’s feeling very out of place and very self-conscious in the stuffed animal section of Toys “R” Us, with little kids stopping in their tracks to stare at him like he's the tallest walking skyscraper they've ever seen, lollipops tucked in their cheeks.

 

To his utmost horror, one little boy even tries to shoot him down with a Nerf gun, screaming to his mother that he's tackling a monstrous beast. The child then attempts to scale Mingyu, and conquer him like he’s Mount ing Everest or something. Needless to say, the kid immediately gets dragged out by his embarrassed mother, and Mingyu, childish as he is, sticks a tongue out at his tiny assailant.

 

Some preppy salesgirl takes a liking to Mingyu, batting her false lashes and twirling a lock of hair around her fingertip as she suggests a bear for his girlfriend.

 

Mingyu wants to say that it's not a girl he’s getting the gift for, but the salesgirl is pushing their best seller into his arms— two stuffed bears with their arms around each other, one white and one tan, sharing a single scarf that envelops their round bodies. It's kinda cute, the smaller white bear reminds Mingyu of Wonwoo and the other one of himself, and… , why hasn't he thought of this earlier?

 

Mingyu is going to knit Wonwoo a scarf for Christmas.

 

He rushes out of the store empty-handed, much to the salesgirl’s disappointment, and has his mother on the phone while he browses through the different types of needles and balls of yarn in the handicraft store.

 

She slowly guides him through the selection process, but not before she drills and pummels him to the ground with an onslaught of questions, leaving him feeling a lot like beaten orange pulp after someone (his mother) has squeezed the fruit to an inch of its life.

 

(“My son? Learning how to knit? This can't be true. Are you trying to win someone over? Why on earth would you want a crash course on knitting?”

 

“Kim Mingyu, have you gotten yourself another girlfriend without telling your mum? Haven't you learned from your mistakes? That previous girl and her obsession with marriage was hard enough to get rid off.”

 

“Who is this special somebody you're knitting for? You’ve never done that for me, and I’m your mother.”)

 

Mingyu ignores all of them. He’s feeling pleased with himself when he arrives back in the dorm with all his knitting supplies, but that confidence slowly dissipates into thin air when his fingers tangle up in all the yarn and he stabs himself in the face one too many times with the needle (he was leaning too close). It leaves him feeling extremely demoralised, like he has feet for hands and the same capacity for creativity a garden slug would possess.

 

There are YouTube tutorials playing from Mingyu’s laptop and printed manual sheets strewn across the room when Seungcheol returns to their dorm much later. Mingyu has something that vaguely resembles a scarf in his hands (the knots are far too loose and the scarf is terribly out of shape), but he's curled in on himself on the bed, fast asleep.

 

Seungcheol is genuinely surprised. In the fifteen long years since he’s known Mingyu, he has never witnessed the boy put in so much effort for a single person. It makes him proud to see Mingyu finally being sincere, finally being serious about liking someone.

 

For the first time, Seungcheol doesn't make fun of his best friend. He doesn't slap him awake with pillows but helps pack up the loose sheets of paper instead, throwing a blanket over Mingyu’s sleeping figure.

 

The whole week is what it takes for Mingyu to finally get the hang of knitting. Amidst many calls to his mother (he places her on speed dial) and over four trips back to the mall (the yarn runs out quickly from the sheer number of times Mingyu s up), the scarf begins to take form. Thank goodness for winter break, because Mingyu doesn't think he’d be able to handle going to school to learn about carbonyl compounds and Othello’s greatest struggles in life, on top of returning to the dorms to practice his knitting.

 

Wonwoo drops by unannounced somewhere during the week. Mingyu almost kills himself making a mad dash to his room— it's an absolute mess with loose threads clinging to every piece of furniture he owns, and the unfinished scarf lies somewhere amongst the ruffled bedsheets— looking very much like a stampeding buffalo fighting its way to the last water hole in a god forsaken desert. The student councillor doesn’t question why he's suddenly banned from Mingyu’s bedroom (even after having taken many naps in it), and busies himself with writing Christmas cards on the carpet of the living room instead.

 

The scarf is completed on the night of Christmas Eve. It comes out decent enough, in different hues of navy blues and purples mixed with a muted grey. There’s even a matching grey pompom sewn onto each end. Fingers sore, pricked and plastered in the aftermath of his knitting quest, Mingyu’s glad that at least his gift would match well with that beanie Wonwoo always wears to school.

 

He even gets praised by his roommate for all the hard work— Seungcheol brings a bowl of Lucky Charms to his room, saying he doesn't want Mingyu to “die from starvation a day before Christmas” lest everyone gets bad karma for not feeding him. It's an exaggeration more than anything, Mingyu had only skipped his lunch and dinner in favour of completing the scarf.

 

Mingyu goes to sleep that night with his last thoughts being that of Wonwoo, truly hoping that the councillor would like his gift.

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

“You're under the mistletoe!”

 

Mingyu lifts his head, and sure enough, Hansol is precariously dangling a mistletoe over his head, attached with masking tape to the end of a broom. Wonwoo’s face is set in a decidedly neutral expression as he rips the tool from the president’s hands, whacking him over the head with the bristled end instead.

 

The blunt force knocks the Rudolph nose Hansol has on right off his face, and the president looks impossibly scandalised as the red styrofoam ball rolls under the couch.

 

“Go away,” Wonwoo says, and he's being extra pouty about it as he murderously plucks a gumdrop button from the crumbly body of his gingerbread man. He’s bundled up in a tacky Christmas sweater— the classic red and green ones you can get off Ebay for a few bucks— and there’s a pair of small reindeer antlers clipped into his hair.

 

“Sheesh, what's got your in a dead knot? You're going against the traditions of Christmas, man.” Hansol accuses, before wandering off to stick the mistletoe into the faces of Junhui and Minghao. “Gotcha! Now kiss!”

 

Much to Hansol’s delight, the two Chinese students do not hesitate the slightest in leaning over and locking lips with each other. The kiss is closed-lipped and considerably brief, but it sets the whole room off in a chaos of annoying howls and wolf whistles. (It makes Mingyu envious too, but that's not something you'll ever hear coming from his mouth.) Chan hides his face in his Santa hat, and apologises for even inviting the pair to their party in the first place.

 

The head councillor continues to try his luck in making his buddies kiss— he waves the stupid mistletoe over Jisoo and Jeonghan in the kitchen, then Seungcheol and Jihoon by the veranda— but fails to get any more lip action. Hansol does manage to coax a blushing vice president into pressing a kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek though, and he squeezes a considerable threat out of Jihoon too, the cute little bugger.

 

He loses interest in the mistletoe fairly quickly, and everyone gathers in the entertainment room. Hansol and Jisoo share the biggest living quarters in Dormitory E, considering how they're the president and second-in-charge.

 

The two, being busy as heck, do not have the time to go around visiting the other dorms, and this is amplified by their shared tendency to severely underestimate the considerable luxury of their living quarters. (“Oh yeah, these bedsheets are made of 750 thread count Egyptian cotton, they make a pretty good face towelette when I run out of clean ones.”)

 

All thirteen of them assemble in the room, and although it can definitely accommodate all of them standing, it's a tight fit once they've all sprawled out on the floor. There's a call for everyone to sit in a circle, and the students take some time to arrange their limbs in a strategic way, ensuring no fingers poke at anyone’s eyeballs and no feet are stuck right in anybody else's face.

 

Mingyu has Wonwoo semi-draped over him like a rag doll— the smaller student is forced to move aside and encroach upon Mingyu’s space when Hansol purposefully plants his invasive between him and Jihoon. Wonwoo shifts uncomfortably in his position, arm and leg bent at such an awkward angle, Mingyu's afraid they're about to snap clean off his body.

 

“As tiny as you are, Wonwoo, I don't think you fit.”

 

Wonwoo laughs at this despite himself, and says, “Shut up, the one taking up most of the space is you, jerk. It's either this or your lap.”

 

In retrospect, there was a good chance the student councillor might have just been joking, but Mingyu doesn't give it much thought when he pulls Wonwoo onto his lap without further preamble. The boy yelps, hands reaching out to blindly grab at Mingyu’s arm to steady himself.

 

“Damn, I know y'all dating—”

 

“Happily married,” Seokmin helpfully supplies from his position stretched out over Soonyoung’s legs.

 

Minghao lets out a hoot of laughter at that, and holds his hand up for a high-five (one that Seokmin gladly reciprocates, as the two of them have been getting along well recently), before he continues, correcting himself, “— I know y’all happily married, but would you keep the touchy-feely -dinky to a minimum?”

 

The choice of words is so terrible, even Hansol who's reaching for the tapioca chips in the middle of the circle recoils his arm and crumples his face in disgust, like he just had a mouthful of Warheads dipped in lemon juice.

 

“We’re not together,” Wonwoo clarifies, voice small and shoulders slumped in such an unconvincing way, Mingyu wouldn't have believed him either if not for the fact that he was the other party in question. He doesn't make any effort to move from Mingyu’s lap though, and Mingyu takes that as a green light to rest his chin on the other’s shoulder.

 

“But—”

 

“Whatever!” Hansol cuts Minghao off mid-sentence and drums his feet against the carpet in annoyance. “We’re going to reveal our secret Santas!”

 

“In what order?” Jeonghan asks, and Hansol directs flying kisses in his direction, because at least someone is speaking his lingo.

 

“How about we start with the ugliest? I volunteer Mingyu!” Seungcheol attempts to tag his best friend by sending a cushion flying across the room, but misses his target and hits Wonwoo square in the face instead.

 

“Hah, if anything, you would be up first.” says Jihoon, “But it looks like Wonwoo has taken the hit for us all, so he can start, I guess.”

 

Wonwoo gifts Chan a collector’s edition of Michael Jackson’s Dangerous, the album a first printed version and still sealed in its glittering plastic wrap. The junior councillor has a mini meltdown in the corner of the room, eyes b with cartoonish tears of gratitude. Wonwoo lets out a happy laugh and affectionately pats Chan’s hair when the kid barges head first into him (and Mingyu) in an attempt to give him a hug.

 

Chan automatically goes next, giving Soonyoung a solar-powered dancing cat, and the gift-giving relay continues accordingly. Hansol’s apparently matched to his right-hand man, and he presents Jisoo with a thirty-inch panda doll along with a framed certificate, authenticated with a WWF stamp.

 

“You’re a father!” Hansol says gleefully, going so far as to also provide an A5 picture of the giant panda he had adopted under Jisoo’s name. “I got you a panda, because it has dark circles around its eyes, just like you!”

 

In a similar fashion, terrible gifts continue to make their rounds.

 

Seokmin gets Jihoon a set of LED fairy lights to hang in his room, because he “reminds him of a tiny spring fairy jumping from flower to flower”, or something along those lines. Wonwoo has to physically hold Jihoon down to stop him from strangling Seokmin with the wires instead.

 

Minghao receives a self-taken Polaroid from Junhui (“Take me, for I bless you with the gift of my face!”) embellished with cheap, plastic crystals and glitter glue. It’s a short while till it’s finally Seungcheol’s turn to play Santa, and everyone except Mingyu and Wonwoo has received their gifts. Mingyu knows he’s assigned to Wonwoo, so that leaves— Seungcheol. , his secret Santa is none other than his best friend, who’s giving him the most self-satisfied and smug grin he’s ever seen.

 

Seungcheol disappears from the room, only to wheel in a zip-up closet a few moments later, the kind made out of non-woven fabric. It’s already ped, interior empty and devoid of any shelving. Not a single occupant of the room looks surprised, but rather, they’re having a ing laughing fest— even innocent Chan has doubled over in amusement, slapping at Jeonghan’s thigh as his laughter fills the room— what have they done to that little angel?

 

Seungcheol hums and bobs his head to the tune of Jingle Bells playing from Hansol’s extensive stereo system (“Surround sound, baby!”), and pulls a party popper over the circle of friends.

 

“You got me a closet...?” Mingyu picks the confetti out of his hair, voice trailing off at the end as he tries to comprehend the logic behind Seungcheol's gift. What happened to the very predictable and customary boxes of protectant?

 

“That’s not the best part!” Seungcheol squeals excitedly, and Mingyu watches in faint horror as his friend wraps a satin ribbon around Wonwoo’s head, starting from under his chin and pulling it up to frame the sides of his face. Seungcheol ties it off in a big, red bow on top of the student councillor’s head (it knocks those cute antlers out of place in the process, much to Mingyu’s dismay). He steps back to admire his handiwork, and gestures at Wonwoo with his hands. “Tada!”

 

“You’re giving me Wonwoo for Christmas?”

 

Wonwoo’s face is impassive and cluelessly blank, his rapid blinking the only indicator of any emotion as he looks up at Seungcheol with a forlorn frown. Mingyu thinks the world would be a better place if everyone filed for a restraining order against his best friend.

 

“Seven minutes in heaven, baby! Pucker up,” Seungcheol yells, and then he’s dragging Wonwoo up by his arm, ushering him into the closet. Mingyu is manhandled into it next, and he barely has any time to react before Seungcheol is zipping the closet shut from the outside, enclosing the two of them in.

 

“I got you the most opaque one I could find, for maximum privacy!”

 

The closet is definitely too small and Mingyu finds his limbs in a tangled mess along with Wonwoo’s. Its dimensions couldn't possibly be any bigger than that pathetic excuse of an aquarium Mingyu had as a child, the one that was home to only two sea snails and a clown fish or whatever. Screw it, this damn closet was built to fit no more than a few winter coats, and certainly not a lanky teenager with uncontrollable arms plus the tendency to break everything in sight, let alone two.

 

There's the silhouette of a hand pressing against the flimsy cloth of the closet door, and judging by the voice that accompanies it, it's Jihoon. “I'm sorry, Wonwoo— buddy, but this had to be done. I’ll be here to save you in like, seven minutes. Tell him everything!”

 

There's still some light streaming through the thin fabric, and Mingyu can see Wonwoo frantically trying to grab at Jihoon’s hand, but obviously to no avail.

 

“I don't have anything to tell him,” Wonwoo cries out uncharacteristically, and it makes Mingyu wonder what goes on in their dorm when he isn't there to invade it.

 

“Don't lie, you talk about Mingyu every night,” Jihoon responds with a snort, and then the hand is gone, along with everyone else. It's definitely only because Jihoon kicks their asses out of the room— even at this crucial juncture, Wonwoo still has Jihoon to count on, the short student hellbent on protecting his friend’s privacy from any kind of violation by a bunch of goons.

 

Meanwhile, Mingyu can hear his own best friend complaining, and it makes him question how he managed to make such bad choices. It takes a considerable while to clear the room with Seungcheol’s refusal to cooperate, and with Soonyoung trying to pull the I-am-Mingyu’s-mother-so-I-have-the-rights-to-my-own-son card.

 

The room door slams shut, and suddenly it's too quiet. Even though they’re shrouded in almost complete darkness and Mingyu is sure Wonwoo can't see him all too well, he finds himself being extremely self-conscious. His knees are tucked to his chest in an attempt to squeeze (and disappear) into the corner, but he can almost feel the heat radiating off of Wonwoo from their close proximity. He hears Wonwoo’s steady breathing, and takes a moment to level his own.

 

Mingyu has been alone with Wonwoo countless of times, they nap in the same bed, drink from the same straw, share the same clothes. So why on earth is he feeling so restless?

 

His own gift for Wonwoo is still in his hands, and Mingyu thinks it's ing do or die time.

 

“Merry Christmas,” he says lamely, chucking the gift into Wonwoo’s hands. , that was not what he was supposed to say. Kim Mingyu, why bother learning how to speak when you're better off keeping your sorry mouth shut?

 

Wonwoo apparently hasn't recovered from his friend’s betrayal, because he takes a moment to react. There's the sound of paper crinkling and tearing as he slowly unwraps the gift, and Mingyu doesn't dare move an inch.

 

In the silence of the room, Mingyu manages to catch Wonwoo’s small exhale of breath, and he knows the other boy has seen his gift. There's no indication for sure though, and it sends Mingyu’s brain into overdrive, his nerves already on edge. He's teetering so close on the edge of insanity, he fails to stop the word vomit that spills carelessly from his mouth.

 

“I made it for you! I mean, not the material, but like— I put it all together, you know? With those big needles. , this is terrible. What I meant was, I knitted it, specially for you—”

 

Mingyu is cut short by the hand that finds its way to his own. It's a familiar touch, one that Mingyu knows by heart, and he lets himself take a deep, shaky breath as he closes his fingers around Wonwoo’s.

 

“I love it,” Wonwoo whispers, voice light and breathy, and Mingyu can practically hear the smile in his voice. He’s a little disappointed and wishes he was able to see Wonwoo’s reaction, but the student gives his hand a gentle squeeze and that's enough consolation.

 

It goes quiet again, and maybe it's the reassurance he gets from Wonwoo’s slender fingers fitting perfectly between the gaps of his own, but Mingyu finds the courage in him to speak first. It’s now or never, and Mingyu doesn't think he'll forgive himself if he misses the chance to tell Wonwoo just how precious he is to him.

 

“I like you,” he admits, “a lot— it's getting out of hand, I think about you every day.”

 

It's a lot harder to express his feelings now that he's started, and Mingyu can feel his throat closing up, but he presses on anyway. His heart is beating so hard against his ribcage, it's almost painful. The air around them is so tense, Mingyu feels like he's being suffocated from the lack of oxygen.

 

“And, I feel all sorts of funny around you. It's not a bad thing, but like— it's hard to function around you when all I can really focus on is, well, you. Your nose wrinkles and your eyes form crescents when you smile. , I sound so creepy, I'm sorry—” Mingyu’s voice cracks on his last two syllables, and he wants to cry. Oh hey, maybe Wonwoo wouldn't mind letting Mingyu borrow the scarf long enough for him to wring it around his neck and cut off his own supply of air.

 

Mingyu doesn't know how long they've spent locked up in the confinements of this darn closet. An estimate would tell Mingyu that it couldn't have been any longer than two minutes, but then again, he's the same person who manages to spend four hours on a single literature essay (and still gets a grade no higher than a measly D), under the false assumption that only thirty minutes have passed.

 

“I know,” Wonwoo says quietly. Mingyu doesn't know how to interpret the reply in any way other than it being a rejection, and no amount of expectation is able to change how the words stab at his heart. It's painful more than anything, the thought of Wonwoo not reciprocating his feelings, and Mingyu silently wishes he hadn't said anything at all.

 

“I've always known, Mingyu.” Wonwoo continues, a low, husky quality to his voice that Mingyu has never heard. There's no trace of maliciousness in it though, and instead, Wonwoo keeps his tone impossibly gentle. “And I've liked you back since forever.”

 

Wait, what?

 

“You're not exactly subtle, you know,” Wonwoo lets out a laugh, but it’s devoid of any humour and flickers way too close to sadness for Mingyu’s liking. “I've never told you because, well, I'm scared. I don't want to ruin everything we already have between us. I've always known how you felt, but I'm afraid it's just a passing phase, so I— I kept it to myself. It’s really selfish of me, isn't it? I'm sorry, Mingyu.”

 

Another dry laugh leaves the councillor’s lips, and the grip on Mingyu’s hand tightens every so slightly. Mingyu watches in silence as Wonwoo takes a deep breath in order to compose himself, lower lip quivering and caught under his perfect row of white teeth.

 

“I know it’s stupid, because you make me really, really happy. But sometimes, I think that maybe I don't deserve it. I tell myself to be satisfied with what I have— what we have— because I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose you.”

 

Mingyu doesn't want to believe for a second that Wonwoo, of all people, thinks that he doesn't deserve every single ounce of the happiness he gets. It's the same Wonwoo who selflessly puts everyone else before himself, who is always willing to sacrifice his own meals and sleep to help anyone in need, who has Mingyu helplessly falling in love— yet Wonwoo doesn't dare let himself hope for much in return, especially not from Mingyu, in fear of having it taken away from him all too quick.

 

It makes Mingyu sad to know just how fearful Wonwoo is of letting himself want more, more than just the exchange of shy glances and fond smiles, more than just the soft touches that border on intimacy but ultimately fail to progress into anything more.

 

More than anything, Mingyu hates how Wonwoo blames himself for it. With his gentle personality and caring nature, the last person to ever apologise should be Wonwoo.

 

Mingyu can barely make out Wonwoo’s silhouette in the dark, the minimal light casting shadows across the smaller student’s face. He watches as Wonwoo brings his other hand up to furiously wipe at his eyes, and the act sends another dagger straight through Mingyu's heart. There’s nothing he wants more than to hold Wonwoo tight, reassure him that it's alright to let himself be happy, and that it's not wrong for him to think for himself once in awhile.

 

So, he does. Mingyu pulls Wonwoo into his embrace, and presses a kiss to the boy’s forehead. It's a sweet gesture, and Wonwoo’s hands curl at the material of Mingyu’s sweatshirt, head resting against the crook of his neck. Mingyu doesn’t know what to say, so instead he reaches up to pat at Wonwoo’s hair, earning a rewarding tinkle of laughter from the student.

 

“Sorry,” Wonwoo murmurs again, but this time, there's a small smile in his voice when he continues a little louder, “You know, now that I’ve said everything aloud, I really just sound melodramatic.”

 

“Not at all, Wonwoo, everyone has insecurities,” Mingyu says honestly. It’s true, Mingyu doesn’t know how many times he has lost sleep over the uncertainty of his relationship with Wonwoo. He suddenly remembers that one night he even messaged Seungcheol (who was literally on the other side of the wall separating their two bedrooms) about it, and immediately judges himself for his bad life decisions, because how desperate must you be to even ask for Seungcheol’s help in anything?

 

Mingyu’s mental warfare is brought to a standstill when Wonwoo starts shifting in his arms. The boy’s hugging his knees to his chest, but he’s fiddling with the ends of his new scarf while trapped within Mingyu’s grasp. It’s too dark to see, and it’s only when fabric brushes against the back of Mingyu’s hand that he realises oh, Wonwoo is looking at the scarf that was knitted for him.

 

“I almost died learning how to knit just for you, you know? So that makes you, like, really special.”

 

Wonwoo laughs at the confession, and doesn’t reply until he’s done wrapping the scarf around his neck. His voice is muffled by the knitted fabric pressed against his lips, and it’s pretty darn cute in Mingyu’s opinion.

 

“Yeah, that does make me feel really special.” Wonwoo rests his head on Mingyu’s shoulder, and it’s almost as if Mingyu’s entire existence centres around Wonwoo and making him comfortable. “So, we’re good?”

 

“We’re good. You sure you’re alright?”

 

Wonwoo pauses for a moment before nodding his head. There’s still a hint of melancholy tugging at the corners of his lips, but the tight set of his jaw is no longer there and his nose is scrunched up the way it is only when he’s happy. Mingyu sneaks a glance at the student councillor cocooned against his side.

 

Neither say anything after that, but with Wonwoo seeking warmth and comfort in Mingyu’s embrace and Mingyu being more than satisfied with holding the other student close, they lapse into a comfortable silence.

 

Their hands find their way back to each other somewhere in between, and Wonwoo distracts himself by playing with the tips of Mingyu’s fingers, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips when the latter presses small kisses into his hair. It’s the closest and most intimate they’ve ever been.

 

They don’t bother moving from their positions when they hear the door swing open with so much force, it’d take an idiot to think that it was anybody but Seungcheol. Hansol is here too— no surprise there— and there’s the sound of overly-excited socked feet running across the room before the closet is ped in a single downward motion, and light pours into every crevice of the space. Wonwoo makes a noise of annoyance and promptly decides to avoid the onslaught of brightness by pressing himself even closer to Mingyu, face hidden by the scarf.

 

The need to protect Wonwoo from every form of evil in the universe immediately overcomes Mingyu, the present evil being Hansol, whose face is the first thing that comes into view when the closet doors fall open. His whole nose is painted a Rudolph red, and Christmas ornaments dangle from both his ears, and Mingyu doesn’t even want to know what the gang has been up to during their time in the closet.

 

“Is this a bad time? Or like, are y’all doing that cuddling thing you get after se—”

 

Hansol’s words are cut off when Jihoon shoves him aside. It sends the head councillor flying and crashing onto the floor, along with the red and gold snowflake-patterned ornaments that he had previously worn as an accessory. Jihoon starts pulling at Wonwoo’s arm, and whacks the hand that Mingyu has over his best friend’s shoulder.

 

“Get your filthy paws off Wonwoo. Seven minutes is up, and I even gave you an extra five.”

 

Wonwoo lets himself go boneless as he’s dragged out of the closet by his friend no taller than five foot three, and Mingyu immediately misses his warmth. They're no longer in direct proximity, and it's definitely not something Mingyu takes a liking to. But then Wonwoo turns around to smile at him, and it's wide enough to show a glimpse of teeth, his nose scrunching up in the same lovely way Mingyu never gets tired of.

 

It gets Mingyu hopeful, and he’s beginning to finally let himself believe that what they have is special, and has been all along. It's almost surreal— just one earnest smile, and the doubts that previously weighed him down are lifted all at once.

 

The moment is ruined when Seungcheol rudely cuts into Mingyu’s line of vision, with a grin that stretches too far and eyebrows that wiggle to oblivion. He sticks his face right in front of Mingyu’s and starts tugging him out of the closet, demanding to know what happened.

 

There are candy canes hanging from Seungcheol’s ears, and Soonyoung appears from behind him, proceeding to unhook one, unwrap it, and eat it. Mingyu can't find the strength in himself to do anything else but avert his gaze to stare at the door from which Jihoon leads Wonwoo out instead.

 

There's a sickening pop sound as Soonyoung obscenely smacks his lips around the peppermint candy, and Mingyu loses it when Seungcheol snidely asks, “So did you get any ?”

 

Mingyu gets to his feet— they're all tingly and numb from having his gawky legs folded at an unnatural angle in the closet, and beginning to feel like how Mingyu imagines evaporating into thin air would— and he almost falls flat on his face trying to walk. Lady Luck is on Mingyu’s side though, for she blesses him with a Soonyoung, who helps him up and even gives him a comforting pat on the .

 

“ing— My legs feel like… , they feel like jelly, minus all the deliciousness.”

 

“So like, what, gelatin? Collagen?” Soonyoung supplies.

 

Mingyu wants to ask him to shut up, but he knows his friend, albeit dumb, is just trying to be helpful, so he doesn't. Seungcheol is on the floor, and somehow managing to choke on air as he laughs his way to tears. Now that’s someone who needs to shut up.

 

Mingyu's stumbling out of the door the moment a decent amount of feeling returns to his legs. It brings bad, bad memories of that one time he got high at Seungcheol’s nineteenth birthday party, and he was brainwashed by the birthday boy into thinking he was melting. In Mingyu’s buzzed mind, his legs did feel identical to room-temperature butter, and he broke down crying from the fear of having liquified limbs.

 

Yeah, that's exactly how his legs feel like right now.

 

He spots Wonwoo by the kitchen door, cornered by Jihoon and Minghao (with Junhui clinging to the Chinese student’s arm, their smiles eerily matching. Mingyu has always found the two terribly cat-like, only ever either lounging around or up to some form of mischief). And then there's Wonwoo looking very tiny, like a mouse stuck in a trap.

 

The boy’s looking considerably owlish as he blinks at his friends, arms crossed defensively over his chest. It's probably a little exaggerated, but well justified— they look physically ready to squeeze answers out of him. Wonwoo is pressed up against the door to the point that Mingyu thinks it just might give way and send him rocketing into Jisoo’s extensive collection of stainless steel pots and pans hanging on the wall.

 

It’s probably just the high from knowing that Wonwoo reciprocates his feelings, but Mingyu’s feeling much more spontaneous than ever, so he confidently charges forward.

 

Mingyu marches his way over to Wonwoo, unsolicited exhilaration bubbling in him like an overfilled cauldron of soup. But the feeling is gone when he takes Wonwoo by the wrist, because heads snap in his direction and he’s greeted by accusing stares.

 

“Mingyu, we are trying to talk to Wonwoo,” Minghao says in a nasally voice. Jihoon’s glaring at Mingyu with a nasty scowl, and Junhui’s just nodding along to every word his Chinese companion says.

 

Wonwoo shakes his head furiously at that, but stops when he earns a pinch on his thigh from Jihoon. For a short person with even shorter fingers, man, did his pinches hurt a whole damn lot. Come to think of it, Jihoon has always sworn by the effective strategy of digging nails into flesh. Wonwoo slaps his hand away.

 

He doesn’t know what else to do other than look at Mingyu imploringly, and tug on the taller male’s pinky. Something in Mingyu actually stirs at this, and he feels the familiar burst of affection rising up his chest. It makes Mingyu feel warm and tingly all over, an inexplicable tugging at his heart— it's the same feeling he gets when a bleary-eyed and very sleepy Wonwoo snuggles a little closer to him during lunch breaks.

 

Jihoon is looking at him with the evil eye, and Mingyu kinda gets the message of don't you ing dare, but he's too far gone to give a . Mingyu bolts for the front door, fingers still firmly wrapped around Wonwoo’s wrist.

 

There’s Hansol’s ear-piercing scream, a shrill “I never said this meeting was over!”, and then the student council president is blocking the entire doorway with his body. He's spread out starfish-style, skinny limbs preventing the duo from escaping.

 

Seungcheol comes charging out of the entertainment room at the sound of Hansol’s voice, arms outstretched and ready to make a grab at Mingyu. His lips are stretched from cheek to cheek in the creepiest smile, and Mingyu wants to scream bloody murder.

 

It’s awfully terrifying, to see their group of friends— minus the young Chan and Seungkwan, it’s past their bedtime and they’re sleeping on a single mattress in the centre of the living room— after them. It’s kinda like they’re a pack of ravenous wolves, out to draw first blood, with Wonwoo and Mingyu being the only fresh meat they’ve seen for miles.

 

Seungcheol is no more than three steps away when Mingyu decides to bulldoze the past Hansol with Wonwoo in tow, the president almost bringing the whole door frame with him by his sheer determination to not let the go.

 

Wonwoo’s just laughing as he’s dragged out of the dorm— Mingyu wants to chide him for not acknowledging the severity of the situation, but frankly, Wonwoo’s amusement ranks higher to him than any amount of Hansol and Seungcheol. The situation is really more like Mingyu’s stealing a cute, defenseless omega from a high-ranking wolf pack than anything else, but still, Mingyu thinks that Wonwoo really has to stop his giggling.

 

It’s certainly not because he finds the other’s laughter adorable, and very distracting in his quest for escape.

 

By some ing miracle, Mingyu manages to lose Hansol and Seungcheol by running into the conveniently opened doors of the building’s lift. (Wonwoo almost gets squished between the metal frames, but that much Mingyu can live with, as long as they get away.)

 

There‘s the sound of trampling footsteps as a deranged president and the world’s worst best friend run past the elevator, and Mingyu can hear Seungcheol’s muffled voice say, “, Hansol, how did you even manage to lose two giant six-footers? They’re basically running Christmas trees!”

 

“Ain’t that easy to keep track of running trees, my dude!”

 

Mingyu’s starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of proper ventilation after his mad dash to the lift, and belatedly realises that Wonwoo has fiddled with the buttons. The student has lost a reindeer antler somewhere in between, and the scarf he’s received from Mingyu falls loosely around his shoulders.

 

“It looks good,” Mingyu manages to say between gasped breaths, as he quickly rearranges the scarf to wrap snugly around Wonwoo’s neck, “I should start my own line of clothing.”

 

Wonwoo’s all pretty smiles and laughter, and it serves as enough validation for Mingyu’s hard work. Screw Seungcheol and his valiant attempts to up Mingyu’s love life.

 

“Maybe it’s the model that makes it look good,” comes the cheeky reply, before Wonwoo’s leading him out of the lift doors.

 

It doesn’t even take Mingyu a second for him to know where they’re headed to, as he’s been past these hallways countless of times. Wonwoo lets Mingyu enter the pin to his own apartment (it’s Mingyu’s birthday, much to Jihoon’s protest), and they spend a good amount of time wrestling each other onto Wonwoo’s bed.

 

Mingyu wins, obviously, and has the smaller male pinned and giggling to the soft mattress.

 

He has had his arms around Wonwoo’s slim waist for no more than a mere second before he gets a faceful of pillow, the other clobbering him off the bed. Mingyu falls off of the bed with the grace of an octopus in distress, all limbs and absolutely no sense of control.

 

It takes no time at all for Wonwoo to crawl over to the edge, and he peeks down at Mingyu with wide, innocent eyes. He has the blankets draped over his head, and it reminds Mingyu of an overly-apologetic puppy.

 

Mingyu thinks it’s a little ridiculous how quickly he’s invited back onto the bed— and even more so at how quickly he accepts said invitation— but it’s Wonwoo, so Mingyu figures he can afford to make an exception.

 

They spend the rest of Christmas night in each other’s embrace, falling asleep to the steady beats of shared hearts and icy snowflakes on the chilled window.

 

 

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A/N: merry christmas! may you all have a blessed holiday, my gift to you is jingle (my) bells part two :-)

I have a confession, I only finished this up today, thank you chorusofthesong for the stimultaneous beta-ing while I wrote heh

please let me know in the comments whether you enjoyed this holiday's story!

also, I created a new twitter, please feel free talk to me about anything & everything, or ask me any questions there! I'd love to make friends ye hit me up @bbaekstillcute