It’s a quiet Christmas morning and King’s Cross Station is just beginning to stir to life. They’re not expecting much traffic since most people will spend it at home opening presents with family or friends. However, a holiday does not stop routine. Just like every other Tuesday for the last few weeks, at precisely seven fifteen am, the tall man by the name of Chanyeol Park—with the wide smile, pushed back hair, and big ears—stands on the other side of Jongin’s counter waiting for his train ticket.

The first time Jongin saw Chanyeol the man slid a black Master Card over the counter and asked for a round-trip ticket to Paris. The second time, Chanyeol smiled, gave him the card and asked for a round-trip to Amsterdam. The third time, he was talking on the phone, but Chanyeol still winked as he passed Jongin his card, and asked for a round-trip to Brussels. Every time an exciting new destination, to places Jongin had only ever dreamed of. No one could blame him for falling a little bit in love with the handsome stranger even when the only words they had exchanged were “A ticket to?”, the destination, “Have a nice trip” and “Thank you.”

The machine spits out the two tickets bringing Jongin back to the present and the reality of his racing heart. Jongin grabs the tickets—a nearby trip to Cambridge this time—checks if they are correct, and is about to hand them over when the man says, “Merry Christmas.”

Jongin is so accustomed to their four-phrase exchange that when new words are suddenly added into the conversation his mind goes blank. He literally freezes, hand extended over the counter, tickets slowly slipping from his fingers. The script has changed and he is on stage, under the spotlight unable to remember his next line.

The man grins showing way too many teeth, seemingly aware of Jongin’s predicament. He grabs the tickets from Jongin’s static fingers before they fall onto the floor. “Thank you. Again, Merry Christmas.”

Jongin watches the way Chanyeol’s coat moves across his broad shoulders as he walks away. There’s a whimper lodged in his throat that he’s grateful never came out. It’s embarrassing enough that he gaped like a fish out of water in front of the man of his dreams. Oh god. Why didn’t he respond? He feels like an idiot now.

The sound of chair wheels comes from his right and Jongin tenses. Squeak…squeak squeak. It’s never a