I've always despised Christmas day.

Not particularly because it was a joyous holiday. I love the idea of peace and happiness on a single day. I love the idea of a precious baby Jesus being born to die for our sins. I love the idea of a white Christmas. I love the idea of mistletoe and building snowmen and snowball fights.

Unfortunately, Christmas had the opposite effect on my family because it was a time of stress. It wasn't stress about buying gifts or decorating the home. It wasn't even stress about family reunions, since it was always the three of us: Dad, Mom, and me.

Every year, stress always centered around freedom.

And this particular Christmas, my parents had taken their liberty and exploited it to the nth power.

~:~:~:~:~

"You ! How dare you go out with that while I was on my business trip!" roared my father from the living room. There was a large bump! as my mother's body crashed against the wall. I winced, even though I knew this was temporary. Tomorrow would bring about a new sense of peace for my parents. This happens every single year... I thought miserably.

"Oh? And you weren't sleeping around with a few women on your business trip? Don't give me any of your bull because I know you did! At least I didn't give my body away to someone else!" My mother screeched in an equally strained voice.

"At least my emotions aren't attached to those women! YOU fell for him! Am I right? Which is worse? Giving your body or your heart away?"

I sighed. Although I was in my bedroom, a whole floor above them, I could still hear their argument loud and clear. This is why they should've let me live on my own.

"Shut up! You're going to wake up Hansollie (*-ie is an informal attachment to a name)! Don't you have any common sense?" asked my mother rather sarcastically. "You know, you and your womanizing ways are the reason why girls are confessing to him left and right!"

"Or maybe he inherited your seductive ways to seduce girls into falling in love him!"

This is ridiculous, I thought to myself. Why are they bringing me into their argument? I shot out of my bed and slammed open my door. As I stomped down the stairs, my parents' voices rose in volume.

"Look at you! You've become so confident, since you have a new man to protect you!"

"Of course! If you had done your job as a husband, this wouldn't have happened!"

"You did not just--!"

"Yes, I did! What are you gonna do about it?"

A loud smack followed by a crash sent my body hurtling towards the front door. I didn't care anymore. Mind you, this wasn't abuse. No, it was much more, more destructive than abuse would ever be. It clicked when I saw the anger and sadness in my parents' eyes. They don't love each other anymore.

Grabbing my winter jacket and keys, I didn't bother to take a look at the violent and unsettling scene behind me as I exited my home. Once the door clicked shut, I could hear my parents shout at each other with some sort incoherent language. I exhaled a puff of steam and stared at the landscape in front of me.

It was a pretty, white Christmas that was second-to-none. Snowflakes fluttered down from steel-gray clouds, padding the ground with soft snow. Children ran along the streets, sliding on toboggans and cardboard boxes, making snow angels and snowmen, and sharing laughter amongst each other. Yes, it was the perfect Christmas, ruined by my parents' inability to spread the joy of the season.

Rubbing my ungloved hands together in an attempt to warm them up, I hurried past the happy children. My depressed mood didn't belong with them, even though I knew most of the kids since they were little. They were, after all, my neighbors, and I had taken care of each one of them at least once.

"Hansol-oppa! Where are you going?" called out Dabin, the little seven-year-old girl who lived next door to me. I grinned at her innocent wide-eyed expression and gave her flushed cheeks a hearty pinch. She pouted at me. Cute.

"I'm just going for a walk, Dabin-ah."

"But, Oppa, it's cold! Don't you need gloves and a scarf?"

"Ani... Nan gwaenchanha (*No... I'm okay/alright). You should go inside. Aju chupda (*It's too cold)." She gave me a small kiss on the cheek, causing my own cheeks to flame up in embarrassment, then waved goodbye.

A fresh breeze ruffled my hair as I continued on a snowy path toward my place of comfort, making me shiver from the frosty air. I stuffed my frozen hands into my jacket pockets. Oh, well, this day couldn't get worse, could it?

Three girls dressed head-to-toe in warm and trendy winter clothing giggled amongst each other while they walked towards me some 50 meters ahead. I frowned at their girlish banter. I never understood why girls did that. You know, walk around in packs and talk about fashion and boys until their jaws stop working. I always found such an activity annoying, especially during high school.

When they got close enough to see my shivering self clearly, they stopped walking and stared at me. Scowling, I glanced up at them and immediately understood why they stopped. The girl in the middle was Son Naeun, my ex-girlfriend. With long, straight hair as black as midnight and elegant cherry-red lips, Naeun was absolutely radiant. She was an ulzzang (*or uljjang, literally meaning 'best face'), just as I was, therefore earning us the title of "Ulzzang Couple" last winter. That is, until I broke it off to date her best friend a few months later.

As we both recalled the memory of our break-up, we stood exactly six feet apart from each other, eyeing the other out, moreso Naeun than me. It was understandable. I was a jerk to have broken up with her in the first place. But, I didn't love her. Nor did I love her best friend. I just THOUGHT I was in love both times.

In a split second, she gave a huge sob and ran back in the direction she came from. Her minions followed her shortly after, but not before shooting me disgusted glares. I sighed again for the third time that day. Why was I such a jerk to girls back then? I'm not even like that anymore, yet they still treat me like I am. Well, whatever. Thank goodness, I'm not going to go through that stuff again. I'm gonna stay away from girls for a little while.

I finally reached the main road, where cars were in bumper-to-bumper traffic and shouts of profanity leaped from one car to the next. This must be the best Christmas spirit anyone can muster at the moment. I grimaced as a man shouted at an ahjumma crossing the road with her walker, "What the , you old hag! I'm trying to get home to see my kids and you're blocking my ing way!"

The ahjumma responded to him by flipping him the birdie while she pushed her walker onto the sidewalk. I wrinkled my nose in irritation. What the heck is wrong with these people???

Within five minutes, I reached my desired destination, a bench right outside a pub my mother used to work at when my father was jobless three years ago. I was in high school at the time and I remembered piggy-backing my mother home whenever she was too exhausted to walk. Those were hard times. Even I had to take on odd jobs on my own, as a newspaper delivery boy, grocery store cashier, and even a street entertainer for a bit, just to earn enough to feed the three of us and keep our home.

Despite all my struggles, my popularity with the female population grew. I began receiving daily confessions at every single public spot on campus: my locker, several of my classrooms, in the cafeteria, in the courtyard, everywhere! Whether I knew the girls personally or not, they continued to badger me with aegyo, homebaked cookies, confession letters, and chocolates. Lots of chocolates. I never figured out the reason for this sudden influx of female requests and demands. It was all too much for me to handle on my own.

On top of everything, my father's popularity with women also grew, without my mother's knowledge. My father is a charmer, a smooth talker, and very handsome. Even though his hair is streaked with gray and his figure has become much less defined, women still find him attractive. With a strong nose, perfectly set teeth, and deep dimples in both cheeks, it's clear that my father is a catch.

One day, while I was at home during winter break, I remember hearing my father come home with a woman. He called me down, since my mother was still at the working at the pub. I can recall clearly how the woman looked like. Straight shoulder-length light brown hair, natural eye smiles, and a body that could put Sistar's Bora to shame, her name was Jeon Nana. He told me that she had offered him a job as a salesman for Samsung electronics.

I gave the young woman a scrutinizing gaze. She was obviously a Noona, but not very much older than me, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Of course, she was drop-dead gorgeous and had a pretty laugh, which was strange in and of itself. My father was not funny. He had an easy-going personality, but he was nowhere near funny. My mother was the funny one. After a few minutes of studying her, I noticed that Nana was looking at my father with longing eyes and a dazed smile, as if... as if... She's in love with him, I thought to myself.

She flashed me a heart-stopping smile, which stopped my heart not because it was beautiful, but because I realized the relationship between my father and Nana. Just then, keys jingled outside our door, signaling that my mother was home.  

And what do you know, just as my mother opened the door, that darned Nana grabbed my father's face and crashed her lips against his. It was disgusting, to see them make out right in front of my mother and I. The keys dropped, as well as my mother's jaw. The couple broke apart, staring at her with wide, "innocent" eyes. Well, Nana wore a smug smirk on her face, but my father was clearly surprised by everything.

Long story short, my father moved on to work as a manager for a Lotte department store in downtown Seoul and dumped Nana due to my mother's threats to divorce him. He is now the right hand man to Lotte's CEO, going on business trips often, and rarely returning home during holidays.

It was then that my parents' relationship began to dwindle. They no longer showed affection towards one another, sat at opposite ends of the dinner table, and my father went on more and longer business trips. As a high school student facing love life troubles of my own, I never paid attention to their deteriorating relationship, although I never forgave my father for that incident. I just knew that it was bound to happen again. 

I brushed the newly-settled snow off the bench and sat down. I leaned my back against the wall and ruffled my hair in frustration. Why couldn't my parents just be normal for once? My mother just had to add flames to the fire with her secret affair with my father's step-brother, my own uncle.

Staring up at the opaque sky, I blew air into my cheeks and tried to get rid of the noisy thoughts in my mind. So, Mom is in a relationship with Uncle Hyunwoo. And Dad is sleeping around with women. They are now seriously talking about divorcing one another. Naeun is still torn over our broken relationship and she won't ever let me forget it. Man, this Christmas . Big time. Because of my parents, I have to spend the rest of the day outside of the house. In the freaking cold. This isn't even Christmas, it's Christ-less.

A bottle crash snapped me out of my short-lived pity party.

A gruff man shouted, "Ggeojyeo (*get lost, bad version)!"

Then, the door of the pub opened and out flopped a drunken girl around my age.

 

*****Hey, all! This is my first three-shot and I'm nervous about the results... I'm hoping that this fanfic is well-received by my readers and I look forward to any comments and subscriptions that come about! Feel free to comment, subscribe, and give constructive criticism. I appreciate them all! I know that this is a bit late in regards to Christmas and the holidays, but I still wanted to post this for my readers. :) Enjoy!*****