Author's Note: Hey, errbody~! Wow, can you believe it's the last day of 2013? Looking back, it's been a hectic one for me :( I'm sorry if Roommates only had a few updates this year. I promise I'll be more diligent and beat writer's block! 

In other news, this should've been my Christmas special, but obviously, it's not. It's more of a New Year's special, without it actually connected to New Year :)) Anyway, I hope you still enjoy this chapter! 

Disclaimer: Besides when I was a teeny baby, I have never been pierced. Thus, all the description I put in here are results of research and assumptions. If you have personally been pierced and find that my writing is inaccurate, please let me know! I will appreciate it! <3 

Well, then, let's begin! 

You cringed as Lu Han’s mouth opened wide in apprehension. No words came out of his lips, however, his voice having been stuck in his throat out of fright. You cringed again when he swatted the piercer’s hand away, jumped off the chair and ran behind you, tightly clutching your shirt. You were still debating whether you were wincing from his desperate hold—so desperate that you kind of just wanted to take your shirt off so he could hug it like he would a childhood blanket—or from the ugly, pitiful face he made the minute he saw the needle and that menacing smirk he claimed the piercer had.

He had been doing so well, you thought. He had walked through the entrance with his head high up and back straightened; Lu Han was so ready to do this. “I am so ready to do this,” he had said, eyes shining like a revamped rustic car ready to take on a new, bumpy road. He had even said that he didn’t need to hold your hand. “Just wait outside,” he had told you with the most boyish grin you had ever seen on his face. (You refused to obey him, of course, because there was no harm in staying, and your gut feeling warned you not to heed your roommate’s words.) His resolve crumbled as soon as the sharp, glistening tip of the needle entered his view.

The piercer—a girl whom you’ve seen in one of your college’s events (you were pretty sure she was from the Biology department)—smiled at the two of you, patiently waiting for your roommate’s decision. “Sorry,” you mouthed at her, to which she replied with a gentle wave and a “No problem,” before setting the needle down.

You looked back at your roommate to see his eyes beady with thick tears threatening to spout out. You cringed again, because you didn’t expect to see your roommate cry this soon in your college life. He raised a quivering index finger and pointed to the outside. You felt a tug but disregarded it and inwardly sighed instead. What were he and you supposed to talk about—that all of this was a mistake? That you should’ve been more persistent in stopping him from committing the most stupid decision of his life?

Stupid Lu Han.

I tried to tell you so, but you wouldn’t listen.

You’re so stupid, it’s not even—

Lu Han tugged at your shirt—harder this time—causing your train of thought to break and you to clumsily step backwards and almost lose your balance if it weren’t for your, well, awesomeness. You sighed again, grumbling something in a voice so low Lu Han wouldn’t hear it. You took a sideward step and bowed to the girl, grabbing your roommate’s head to follow your actions. “We’ll be back!” you said, ignoring Lu Han’s aghast expression. You grabbed his wrist and hurried out the piercing room, out the salon, and into the coffee shop across the street. You pushed him towards an empty table, commanding him to stay there and to not even think about running away, before going to the counter to order him some tea.

You took slow, mindful steps as you carried your tray of tea towards the table. The subtle herbal aroma of Oolong tea wafted through the air, filling you with a sense of peace and reassurance that Lu Han will push through with this little idea of his.

He better, you thought. Even though you were against it before, you didn’t want him to carry the regret of not being able to accomplish it. A regretful Lu Han would be twice as burdensome as a normal Lu Han.

You arrived at the table to find your roommate looking out the window, cheek on palm as he gazed somberly at the piercing salon. His fingers, you noticed, continued to quiver, even as they laid on the smooth wooden surface of the round table

You took another whiff of the Oolong tea; this should calm him down.

Lu Han remained in his position even as you took your seat across him and slid him his cup of tea. You frowned, uncertain as to how to handle the situation. You’ve been living with him for a few months now, but besides the occasional mood swings that usually led to him sulking (it was always Xiumin who talked with your roommate), you’ve never really encountered a moping deer head-on. In spite of the manly façade he failed to upkeep, Lu Han was a pretty fragile kid with a pretty fragile heart. You needed to treat him with kid gloves. Luckily for you, a certain pretty boy in your hometown made sure you were adept in using kid gloves, but there was something about your deer of a roommate that screamed tricky and volatile in all directions. Unlike that pretty boy of yours, Lu Han utterly detested it when it was obvious to him that he was being treated like a child (“Which I’m obviously not. I am a man, Min Seok!” you heard him that one time he was throwing a tantrum).

To kid gloves or not to kid gloves?

That was the question.

“Hey,” you finally say, tapping the space near his fingers. “Lu Han, you gotta decide, you know. We can either sit here all day and drink ourselves to hatred or go to the piercing salon right across the street, face your fears, and be a man by getting that piercing you’ve been whining about.” You probably sounded like a at that moment, but quite frankly, you didn’t care if you seemed too caustic or too impatient. No, Lu Han did and does not want to be handled with kid gloves, so you thought you’ll handle him with another weapon you’ve been trained with: your sardonic, potty mouth.

Lu Han doesn’t respond and you roll your eyes. “Listen, man, I am doing all that I can to resist the urge to say ‘I told you so.’ But at this point, I can’t. I need to tell you that you are such an idiot for not listening to me or Kris. If you had done that in the beginning, then we could’ve saved money, time, effort and most of all, your face. It’s not everyday that a piercer meets a quote-unquote man who cries at the mere sight of a needle. I mean—“

“Hey!” Lu Han finally turns to you, his cheeks flared red, and pounds on the table. The ceramic cups lightly bounce and chink. “I am going to go through with this! I just…” his aggressive demeanor quickly subsides and Lu Han returns to his sulking self as he slouches against his seat. He starts to fiddle with his fingers, which, you noticed, were no longer quivering, and then lightly traces the brim of his cup. “You said that you’d hold my hand a while ago…right? I’ve been thinking, will you really? Because you don’t like holding hands or holding anyone. So, uhh, will you really?” He looks up at you with big, doe eyes that are just full of uncertainty and wonder. There’s not a hint of fear in them (well, maybe, fear of you, but not of the piercing), and you start to snicker—not at your roommate’s very abrupt (but also very, very cute) change in behavior, but at your own foolishness and assumptions.

“Sorry,” you apologized, scratching the back of your head. “For lashing at you like that. I can’t believe that all this time, the reason you’ve been sulking was because you were afraid to ask me for a favor.” Lu Han purses his lip at the word ‘sulking’ but nods nonetheless, tracing the brim of his cup at a much faster pace.

“Hmmm,” you mull, deliberately avoiding an answer to put Lu Han on edge. You don’t say anything for a while, and appreciate, instead, the silence that has taken over your table. You blow on your cup and slowly sip your tea, savoring the warm, herbal taste of Oolong. Lu Han bites his lips in anxiety, but when you shoot him a look that clearly says you’ll give him an answer later, he gingerly takes his cup and brings it to his thin, heart-shaped lips.

It takes you approximately ten minutes to finish a whole teapot, with you practically consuming 2/3 of the tea. You discover two things over the course of your dainty teatime: one, that Lu Han liked blueberry muffins with Oolong tea—a peculiar combination, just like all of his teatime pairings (he enjoyed cream puffs with Jasmine tea, fried dumplings with Green tea, ddeokbokki with Citron tea, and the weirdest of all—kimchi with Black tea); and two, that your roommate’s eyes were even more beautiful when late-morning light reflected against it.

With low-rise buildings surrounding this part of town, the little coffee shop welcomed generous amounts of late-morning light through its wide window. The late-morning sun and sky in Seoul were one of the few things that reminded you of your far home. It was different, in the way that the clouds seemed thinner and drifted slower, and that it was accompanied by the honking of cars, the chattering of people, and light gray smoke that disappeared as it ascended instead of the chirping of birds, the ringing of bicycle bells and the sprigs of wheat that would randomly fly by; it, however, was also familiar, at the exact moment when the sun showed itself, illuminating the buildings with its rays, and when the clouds dwindled into nothingness, revealing a perfectly blue sky.

Those were what you loved most about the late-morning sky in Seoul. And after seeing Lu Han’s eyes glimmer like the golden rice fields in your hometown, you had added another reason to love late-mornings in the city of Seoul.

 “So…ummm,” Lu Han begins as he places his empty cup on the coaster. “Will you let me hold your hand?”

You chose to remain silent, laying both of your hands—palms up—on the table. Your fingers are filled with protruding bony calluses and ugly dried-up scars from all your roughhousing in the years that have passed; your palms are rough, like sandpaper, and your veins—green and purple and sometimes blue—create a disturbing sea of serpents that wind through each other. “I don’t think anyone can find comfort in holding these hands,” you say, “I don’t think these will do, Lu Han.”

“What are you talking about? They’re perfectly fine,” he says, catching you off-guard. “See?” he beams at you, poking your palms, “They’re soft, and bouncy. Exactly how hands should be.” His words surprise you, but what shocks you more is how warm his touch is—not hot or that smoky, fiery feeling you get every time you come in contact with somebody. You abruptly close your palms, wanting to shrug off the foreign sensation, while Lu Han continues to smile innocently at you.

“The wrist.”

Lu Han blinks. “What?”

“You may only hold my wrist,” you bluntly say.

“But—but—but—“

“I know I said you may hold my hand, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. So, the wrist only, all right?”

Lu Han pouts as he grumbles—something about you giving him false hope and how he’ll never trust you again—before reluctantly accepting your condition. His childish pout, however, did not disappear.

“Jesus, Lu, it’s not going to hurt, you know,” you tried to assure him, “There’s no need for you to actually hold my hand, or even my wrist. It’s just like getting stung by a bee.”

“But getting stung by a bee is painful!” he reasons, eyes going bloodshot.

You show him your infamous deadpan look, fingers twitching as you fought the strong urge to throw the teapot at his face. You felt like hurting someone. Or facepalming yourself into the core of the earth. “Lu Han,” you spoke through gritted teeth; resisting had suddenly become so much more difficult, “Relax, will you. The pain—if any—will only last a few seconds—a few minutes, at most. So relax, all right? And don’t be jittery; that will make the piercer panic and we both know that it will not end up pretty should that happen. So please, please,” you say emphatically, “Relax. My entire arm is here for you to hold, so don’t go flailing again, okay?”

Your roommate nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, biting back the pathetic whimpers you knew he was about to sputter, “Okay. I’ll be good, I promise. But I hope you forgive me if I squeeze your arms to obsoleteness.”

“Urge to punch you rising.”

“All right, I’m sorry!” he stammers, shooting up and waving madly at you. “I won’t worry so much anymore.”

You stare at your wrist this time, imprinting its image in your mind. Bruises covered it, and you could only imagine how much it would hurt when Lu Han starts squeezing you to death. It was an ugly arm—even uglier than your fingers, but you knew that this may very well be the last time you see you wrist and your forearm this healthy and normal.

~

“You were right, it didn’t hurt that much,” Lu Han boasted, happily bouncing off the chair. He shook the piercer’s hands, and thanked her, flashing the same smile that had all the girls in campus swooning and falling head over heels. The girl replied with a smile of her own, telling him that it was her pleasure. She was the tough kind, you realized, with her small tattoos hidden behind her short, turquoise-colored bob, and not one to hastily fall for your roommate’s charms.

You, meanwhile, held your left forearm, pressing a thumb against the biggest vein to feel a pulse. Didn’t hurt that much, my , you thought bitterly, squirming at the sight of your now swollen wrist. The bruises, which had finally begun fading a few days ago, would soon return and worsen to color your wrist a disgusting shade of purple yet again. Lu Han had gripped you too tight—tighter than what you had prepared for.

But at least he went through with it. You sighed, rotating your left wrist to see if it could still function. You winced as the slightest turn shot a sharp pain throughout your entire forearm. Great, you wouldn’t be using this for a while. Thank god I’m right-handed, you told yourself, choosing to look at the brighter side of things.

“Hey, you okay?” Lu Han finally notices you squirming to yourself and approaches you with worry-filled eyes. “Did I squeeze you too hard?”

You’re deciding whether you should say a witty, hurtful comeback or quietly back down and assure him that this was nothing.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” you said, walking towards the chair. “Now, shoo, I’ll get my piercing.”

“You sure you don’t need my hand?” he offers, showing you his delicate alabaster fingers. They're long and pretty and it felt like they were worth a million won of insurance. They’re nothing like yours.

“It’s all right. And besides,” you smirk, “I don’t think you’d want to see a hole getting drilled in this bony part over here,” you tap the upper half of your ear where a cartilage laid.

Lu Han inhales sharply as he processes your words. His face contorts into a grotesque and appalled expression. “Okay, point taken. I’ll just wait for you outside!” He runs out the room, covering his ears (was he preempting your scream?).

You and the piercer share soft laughter, amused at your roommate’s quirky behavior. “Surprisingly, he can be very manly,” you told her.

“Hmm, surprisingly, I believe that,” she replied, gaze shifting to your swollen arm, “Your roommate’s got a pretty strong grip. Want some ice?”

You chuckle. “Yes, please.”

~

“Oh, god. Ew. Ew. Ewwwww. Stay away from me,” Lu Han complains, shielding his eyes from seeing your ‘gory’ wound. The upper half of your ear was sore—its color almost like blood (according to Lu Han, who was exaggerating a bit too much)—after the procedure, and a bit of thick, red liquid oozed out of the piercing, staining the white starter earring the piercer had given you. True to what you heard, the procedure did hurt, but it was something easy to get over—especially since you were used to pain.

You roll your eyes at your roommate, crossing your arms to express your disapproval of his overly-dramatic behavior. “Then don’t look, sheesh.”

“How can I not? You don’t have hair to cover your ears!”

“And that’s good because that might infect it.”

“Eeeeewwwwww. Oh, god, eeewwwww,” he squirms. “Too much information.”

“Oh, stop being a girl, you stupid deer.”

“I am NOT being a girl,” he defends himself, “But anyone would be disgusted by your piercing.”

For the nth time that day, you resist the urge to hurt Lu Han. Your patience, however, was wearing thin, and you didn’t know how much more you could take before your sanity completely dissolves into the abyss. Being roommates with Lu Han was tough—tougher than all the fights you were part of in high school. It was perfectly acceptable for you not to hold back during those encounters, but Lu Han was a different story. It was a fight that required mental strength more than physical one.

Must. Stay. Strong. You mentally chant, clenching your teeth.

“Lu Han, remember the first few weeks of school? When we just became roommates and we were warring against each other?”

Lu Han’s expression rapidly changes into that of amusement mixed with embarrassment. “Haha, oh yeah. That was funny.”

“You wouldn’t want us repeating that, would you?” Lu Han quickly shakes his head. You were hell, he was hell; it was all hell. Not the best way to jumpstart your university life. “I thought so. So please, do the both of us a favor and stop whining.”

“Huuu, okay.”

You smile to yourself, feeling accomplished. That should give you some peace and quiet. “Now, shall we buy those earrings you wanted?” you asked, feeling livelier. You show Lu Han a grin—one of your too-awkward-because-I-don’t-really-smile-much grins.

“Yehess!” he cheers, mirroring your expression. 

Next chapter: It's your post-Christmas celebration with the Seoul boys, and you see a familiar accessory on Lu Han's ear. 

Please note that next chapter will be slightly, like a teensy weensy bit, connected to the latest chapter of my Se Hun-centric fic, The Taste of Tea. I hope you guys could check it out! It was really fun to write, teehee! 

Thank you for reading, commenting and subscribing! 

And thank you, thank you, for another amazing year! 

Hope to hear from you guys! 

Happy New Year!