It had started out simply enough, as all things tend to do. It was nothing more than the reciprocant of a child’s fleeting attention span, the frivolous interest of the month, the week, the day. It was solely something meant to pass the time in a period where hours still stretched into millenia. Yet, as all things are also bound to do at one point or another, be it sooner or later, it could only expand from its initial state, and expand it certainly did.

    It was a time in which everything as far as the eye could see was decked in red and green, in flashy lights and just about anything that may catch a child’s (or better yet, a parent’s) eye - not a particularly difficult task, yet one that every little shop lining the city street seemed to take with the utmost seriousness. The scent of pine needles and peppermint hung thick in the air. A pleasant aroma at first, but when it flooded from every open door and then some, it grew quickly to be abrasive. Five different songs (at the very least) concerning winter in some way blared from various loudspeakers, each competing to be the loudest, though it seemed that they achieved their goal collectively as opposed to individually as they all but shook the ground with their volume. Such was the nature of Christmas time in the city, the very atmosphere that the introverted Jeon Wonwoo despised.

    He was but a child then, as he still recalled ever so clearly. He was such a small thing (even smaller than others his age, as his frail stature had been around since before he was capable of even walking or talking), not reaching so much as one hundred centimeters off the ground. His arms and his legs were so impossibly thin that one feared they may snap in half if they were scrutinized too closely, yet, somehow, they always held up, supporting the delicate boy. At that time, his face was much rounder and his features much softer than they had grown with age, though his eyes still managed to retain that certain element of sharpness that stayed with him all his life. He had been bundled within layers upon layers of coats, scarves, and gloves then; with the limited fat on his already small body, he grew cold within an instant of stepping outside. When planning to spend a December day outside, he had to be wrapped with the utmost caution to ensure that he held in as much body heat as possible. He had toddled along that day with a tight grasp on the hand of his mother beside him, the bony boy made round by more clothes than he mused hung in most people’s closets.

    It was with wide, innocent eyes that he observed the world around him then. People bustled incessantly about the street, brushing past one another without sparing so much as a glance as they rushed to complete their shopping for the holiday. He watched them carefully; to a boy of such small stature as the five year old Jeon Wonwoo, these people were giants, were monsters pushing their way through the crowd. They spoke loudly, voices blending together and clashing with one another to form such a cacophony that could only be described as a nuisance - especially to the young boy with a distaste for crowded places. Yet he was there with his mother and couldn’t leave until she was fully prepared to do so, so he supposed that he ought to find some form of entertainment for himself until the time came to depart.

    Such a train of thought was what lead him to staring mindlessly into the windows of the stores that they passed by, unintentionally allowing himself to fall victim to the ploys intended only to earn the maximum amount of money possible. He was naive at the time, however, so every promise of ‘buy one, get one half off’ or ‘free with a purchase of x, y, or z’ was as good as the bible in his eyes. The king of them all, however, the holy grail of empty promises to children, was the store window with strands of lights in every color spelling out the words “Send Your Letter To Santa!”.

    His eyes twinkled at the sight before him. At the age of five, Santa Claus was his hero, was the end all, be all of idols for him. For one to have their personal letter delivered to Santa gave them an elite status among the other children of the playground, and the young Wonwoo’s heart began beating like a hummingbird’s at those words.

His mother had tried to continue walking - but how could she surpass such a grand opportunity as this? He raised a tiny fist, tugging on the hem of her shirt to grab her attention before pointing at the shining words displayed in the window, not speaking a single word himself.

    The case seemed to be that his silent gestures were enough for Mrs. Jeon, however, the woman in question making her way over to the shop to gather information. Wonwoo couldn’t contain the eager smile that found its way to his lips (which were just as thin and delicate as any other part of his body). The first thought on his mind, of course, was to brag to his partner in crime, Kim Mingyu, about the fact that he was going to send his letter to Santa.

    He was disinterested in his mother’s tasks for the remainder of their outing; his sole focus was on the sheet of paper in his hands with the address of none other than Santa Claus scribbled hastily upon it; “Santa Claus; The North Pole”. He could hardly contain his excitement, bouncing constantly on the balls of his feet every time he was instructed to stand still and shaking the sacred paper in his hands with every step that he took. Mingyu would be so jealous, he was certain; there was nothing that would feel quite so good as a victory of this proportion over the younger boy.

    He all but burst out of the car the moment that he and his mother arrived home, dashing indoors at a speed Mrs. Jeon was certain she had never seen her (admittedly slightly lethargic) son move at. He grabbed for the phone in record time, immediately dialing in the number that he had long since learned by heart.

    “Kim Mingyu!” He all but shouted into the phone. His voice had been so high then, such a contrast with the ‘bass’ vocals that he would gain later out. “Can you come over?”

    “Let me ask my mom,” came the (even higher) voice on the other end of the line. There was silence as Mingyu spoke with his mother and Wonwoo waited with baited breath, experiencing the deepest form of anxiety that a child of his age was capable of - the anxiety of whether or not one’s friend would be allowed to come play.

    “Yeah, she said I can.”

    The words drew a sigh of relief from Wonwoo.

    “Why do you want me to come over so much?”

    Wonwoo grinned even wider at the question - his chance to slowly make Mingyu go insane with envy. “I’m going to send a letter to Santa.”

    There was an audible gasp from Mingyu’s side of the conversation, followed by a brief pause, then, “I’ll be there in a minute.” Beyond that, there was just the dial tone - Mingyu had already hung up and was likely sprinting past the few houses that separated them at top speed.

    He was panting heavily once he arrived to Wonwoo’s front door, confirming the latter’s belief that he had been running as fast as he could.

    If Jeon Wonwoo had a polar opposite, even as a child, it was most definitely Kim Mingyu. Despite the age difference of nearly a year in Wonwoo’s favor, Mingyu stood just a few centimeters taller than him - just enough to drive him absolutely insane. He wasn’t nearly as frail as Wonwoo, though he was hardly stocky. He was a healthy weight, the ideal size for a four year old boy. While Wonwoo preferred peace and quiet, Mingyu craved excitement, and could blabber on for hours with no one to put a stop to him. Yet despite the odds, the two had somehow managed to become the best of friends.

    “I wanna write to Santa, too!” was Mingyu’s greeting - no need for “hello”s or any sort of formality.

    The corners of Wonwoo’s mouth twitched into a frown. Why, he wondered, should he let Mingyu intrude on this oh so sacred thing of his? The point was for Mingyu to envy him, for him to one up Mingyu even just one time. Why did Mingyu want to do it as well?

    “No,” replied Wonwoo, voice indicating that he thought his answer was the simplest thing in the world. He apparently did think so, too, as he offered no further explanation that that.

    Mingyu was absolutely indignant at the outright denial. “Why not?” He challenged, folding his arms across his chest. “I want to.”

    “I don’t want you to,” Wonwoo fired back yet again, his vast wisdom never ending. “You can’t.”

    Being only children, it was natural for their emotions to be in hyperdrive at any and all times. As such, it came as no surprise that at the words, “you can’t”, Mingyu’s bottom lip began quivering, and before long he had burst into hysterics, the likes of which alerted Mrs. Jeon, attending to her own business in another room.

    A few scoldings and negotiations later, Wonwoo and Mingyu found themselves seated across from each other at the kitchen table, both armed with crayons as they glared at one another. Being as young as they were, however, they could only hold their silence for so long.

    “I’m gonna tell Santa not to give you a present,” Mingyu stated matter-of-factly, tone indicating that his plan was not open for discussion.

    “Fine,” answered Wonwoo simply, trying his best not to show the complete and utter terror that Mingyu’s words had struck into him. “I’ll tell him not to give you one.”

    Mingyu’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign that he accepted Wonwoo’s statement as a declaration of war, before he took to his paper, scribbling furiously.

    “Dear Santa,

    Hi, Santa. I want a big puppy for Christmas. Also don’t give Wonwoo a present because he’s mean.

    Love,

    Kim Mingyu”

    He read his masterpiece aloud for Wonwoo, the elder’s eyes widening at the sound of it. He wouldn’t, right? There was no way that even Mingyu would sink so low, would he? By the smug expression on his face, it seemed that he would. Wonwoo was never one to back away from a challenge, however, so he quickly took to writing his letter as well.

    “Dear Santa,

    Hello, Santa. How are you? I’m good. I would like a set of blocks for Christmas. Please don’t give anything to Mingyu this year because he’s not nice.

    Love,

    Jeon Wonwoo”

    Mingyu’s face took on such a depth of offense that had never before been seen. He looked completely and utterly scandalized, pouting at the fact that Wonwoo would attempt such a low blow (it somehow seemed to have escaped his mind that he had done exactly the same to the older boy).

    What was done was done, though, was done; their sloppy crayon handwriting may have been as good as a blood pact for all they were concerned. They folded their letters into small panels, never once removing their eyes from one another as they crammed them into the envelopes with their small hands, both proceeding to scrawl the words, “Santa Claus; The North Pole” on the back. They were shoved hastily into the mailbox with the aid of Mrs. Jeon, both boys turning to one another with smug grins that indicated their pride in their successfully completed schemes.

    Mingyu politely bid Wonwoo’s mother farewell, doing no more than sending a distasteful glance in Wonwoo’s direction before running back off towards his own home.

    Wonwoo huffed, crossing his arms across his chest in an attempt to seem apathetic about the whole situation, an attempt to seem as though he hadn’t been highly hurt by his lack of acknowledgement. It was with a heavy heart that he trudged back indoors. He couldn’t help but to wonder why it was that he was even friends with Kim Mingyu in the first place.

    Within no more than two days’ time, Wonwoo received a phone call with the information that MIngyu had gotten a new toy car, and all previous grievances were instantaneously forgotten, Wonwoo begging that his mother let him go play with Mingyu, and all was right in the world again.

    However, time continued to pass, as it unfortunately tends to do. The hours that had at one time seemed to extend for millennia were shortened only to centuries, though such a change was hardly detectable to those who were still children, still eagerly willing away every second until they may finally reach the nightmare known as adulthood.

    The once five year old Wonwoo had added a few more years to his repertoire, now at the glorious age of nine. While he was certain that he had grown and developed vastly since that time, in truth , the changes that he so fiercely insisted upon were barely detectable to an outsider, if they could even be detected at all. He had gained a bit of weight, though he was still essentially skin and bones, just as frail as he had ever been. And even if he had gained a miniscule amount of weight in his limbs, his face had begun the painfully slow process of losing its baby fat, gradually beginning to take on the slim, defined look so unique to him as he grew older - though the completion of that look was still easily a decade in the future. He had gained a few centimeters of height, though not nearly as many as his peers who had all seemed to rocket above him at once - though none so much as Kim Mingyu.

    Mingyu had also grown and developed - though his changes were far more prominent than those of Jeon Wonwoo. While his face was still round and his eyes still wide with innocence, it seemed that he had been hit with the same growth spurt as all of Wonwoo’s classmates despite being a year younger than them. While the gap between he and Wonwoo had hardly been noticeable in the past, their difference was now fairly significant, much to the chagrin of the smaller.

    Regardless, they were just as close as they had ever been, as was shown by their current position.

    It seemed as though Christmas time had rolled around again, as was made evident by the state of Wonwoo’s house, different Christmas decorations around every corner and bells softly playing a familiar tune. As always, the air was heavy with the smell of pine. This time around, however, Wonwoo had no particular disdain for it. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, likely a result of the fact that he had only one person by his side as opposed to the thousands always pushing through the cities.

    He could be found in quite a peculiar position, though one he was fond of nonetheless. He laid on his back on the carpeted floor of his living room, taking up limited space despite being fully spread out. Above him stood the Christmas tree, the source of the aforementioned scent of pine. All he could see was the sea of green needles above his head, occasional flashes of the brightly colored ornaments that he was proud to say he had hung himself showing through when they caught the light just right.

    And, of course, Mingyu was laying beside him, mimicking his position as he stared up into the tree.

    “What are you gonna ask Santa for this year?” Came the question from Mingyu, slight lisp present in the absence of his two front teeth.

    Wonwoo shrugged his shoulders in response before remembering that Mingyu couldn’t see him, voicing his reply with a soft, “I don’t know.” He really didn’t know; he lived a comfortable life, so there was nothing much that he was left yearning for. He was vaguely aware that such a thing was abnormal for a boy of his age. In fact, a child not knowing what they wanted for Christmas was absolutely unheard of. He shook the thought quickly enough, however. He had never quite conformed to the norm very well, so one more deviation came as of no surprise to him.

    That didn’t stop Mingyu from being completely shocked, though. “What?” he exclaimed, disbelief prominent in his voice. “You have to want something!”

    Wonwoo’s reply was as noncommittal as ever, nothing but another shrug.

    His unresponsiveness seemed to slip right past Mingyu, however, the younger beginning to gush about his Christmas wishes. “I want a new video game!” He announced, eyes shining as he spoke. “I haven’t gotten a new one in a really long time, and I saw this commercial…”

    Once Mingyu had begun to speak, there was no stopping him, and this fact was especially true - at least doubly so - when he was excited about something. Not that Wonwoo minded, though. While he himself was very quiet and not at all a fan of speaking, he didn’t mind when Mingyu talked. As a general rule, he detested sound of any kind, be it voices or just background noise. Mingyu’s voice was different, though. He didn’t know what it was about it, but he loved listening to the younger speak. Something about the tone of his voice was just so calming, so pleasant.

    Before long, with Mingyu chattering happily away about anything and everything under the sun, the time came for Mingyu to head home. There was just a brief hug before Mingyu was off, skipping back home yet again. Wonwoo watching him go, head heavy with thoughts as he did so. Once Mingyu’s form was out of sight, Wonwoo himself retreated, retrieving a pen and a piece of paper.

    Even if not with Mingyu, Wonwoo had clung dearly to this tradition of writing letters to Santa Claus yearly. He was at the age that he had begun to doubt in the presence of such a being, his mind craving more logic, more proof, more evidence. Regardless, he held the idea close to his heart, which is why he found himself seated at the kitchen table, brandishing his pen in his hand.

    “Dear Santa,

    Merry Christmas! I hope you had a good year. I don’t know what I want for Christmas this year. So instead of giving me a present, can you give two to Kim Mingyu? He wants a video game. Thank you!

    Love,

    Jeon Wonwoo”

    He looked at the letter in his hands, smiling at his work. He didn’t know why he had asked for something for Mingyu. Shouldn’t he ask for a present for himself? Regardless, he had all that he wanted, so it made sense that Mingyu should get what he wanted as well.

    A few weeks later, when Mingyu didn’t get the game that he had wished oh so desperately for for Christmas, Wonwoo’s belief in Santa reached its last straw.

    From there, time could only continue to pass - hours were no longer centuries but decades, perhaps even only years, and Jeon Wonwoo was no longer only nine years old, but thirteen. It was in this time frame that the most prominent of changes began to occur - Wonwoo had reached puberty. His voice had dropped infinitely lower seemingly overnight, and continued to drop lower yet. His jawline grew sharper and sharper, baby fat falling off rapidly as he grew slimmer and slimmer (which no one had thought to be possible) despite how much he ate. Perhaps the best of changes in his eyes, however, was the height he was gaining at the speed of light. While he had been behind the others in growing tall, it seemed that he was now more than making up for it, shooting up and up and up with each new day. Eventually, he and Mingyu had evened out, both constantly wishing to grow even just a few centimeters taller than the other.

    Of course, Mingyu was undergoing the exact same changes as Wonwoo. He had always been an early bloomer, so it was hardly a surprise that he had begun to change at much the same time. Mingyu’s changes, though, while some physical, were primarily mental, emotional, hormonal. He had come to Wonwoo’s house one day gushing about how pretty a girl in his class was, how much he wanted to go out with her - something he had never said before.

    Wonwoo didn’t know why that had made him angry - of course, his changes were not solely physical, either.

    It was the last day of school leading up to winter break when Wonwoo asked Mingyu to stay the night at his house. This was hardly a new occurrence; being friends for as long as they had, it was natural that they had slept over at one another’s houses countless times. It was just something that best friends did. At least, that’s what Wonwoo told himself as he waited anxiously for Mingyu to arrive, heart beating abnormally quickly.

    Upon the arrival of the younger, everything was almost normal. Almost.

    They played the same games, at the same foods, and discussed the same topics as always. Yet, somehow, there was something not quite adding up. There was an uncomfortable air hanging about them that was atypical of the two, a feeling that there was something going unspoken. Or perhaps the case was even that there was something going without understanding, such as why Mingyu was sitting closer than usual to Wonwoo, or why Wonwoo was hyper aware of the younger’s highly close proximity to him.

    “Wonwoo,” said Mingyu finally, hushed voice with an edge to it that was nearly hoarse as he stared at Wonwoo - something else that the elder had noticed him doing that night.

    Wonwoo gulped subconsciously, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with the other. “Y-yeah?”

    There was no fear or hesitation in Mingyu’s voice as he whispered, “Have you ever wondered about kissing?”

    Wonwoo’s mouth went dry. That was a strange question to ask your best friend, wasn’t it? Likewise, that was a strange question to set your heart racing when asked by your best friend. “What do you mean?” He asked shakily, evading the inquiry.

    “You know what I mean,” challenged Mingyu, detecting Wonwoo’s lies without so much as batting an eye. “Like, don’t you wanna know what it feels like?”

    Something about Mingyu’s words were just so compelling, so enticing, and Wonwoo found himself nodding along before he even realized it.

    Mingyu seemed satisfied with that answer. “Then,” he began, clearly preparing to press further, “wanna try it?”

    Wonwoo’s eyes went wide, face flushing such a deep shade of scarlet he was certain that it had never been seen before. Mingyu likely couldn’t see it anyway, though, as they were sitting in the dark. “K-kissing?” Wonwoo stuttered out, volume dropping to match Mingyu’s hushed tone.

    “Yeah,” Mingyu breathed, “kissing.”

    Wonwoo didn’t know what had come over him when he realized that he had begun to nod, voice coming out before he had time to think about it, “Yeah.”

    As soon as the approval had left his lips, Mingyu’s eyes were closing and he was leaning towards Wonwoo, and Wonwoo found that he was leaning towards the other as well.

    It was strange, the feeling of their lips pressed against each other.

    Strange, but not unwelcome.

    It was over all too soon, Mingyu pulling away with stars in his eyes and Wonwoo feeling butterflies in his stomach.

    Neither knew how, but it was as though the kiss had never happened; they continued on with their night as they would’ve had they never kissed, playing video games and whining about their teachers and homework.

    Wonwoo didn’t know how Mingyu did it, acting as though nothing happened, because Wonwoo knew that the only thing on his mind was how Mingyu’s lips tasted like peppermint.

    The moment that Mingyu left the next day, Wonwoo unearthed a blank page in one of his notebooks, sharpening his pencil to a point. Perhaps his belief in Santa had been dashed, but habits die hard, and when Wonwoo wanted something, there was only one way that he knew how to get it. With the thought in mind that this was only to get his feelings out - whatever those feelings may be - he began to write.

    “Dear Santa -

    I don’t really know what to say, but I feel like I need to say it anyway. I don’t know what just happened, but I’m happy that it happened. If I can ask for one more thing for Christmas, I ask for that again. To kiss Mingyu.

    Love,

    Jeon Wonwoo”

    It wasn’t until Wonwoo was nineteen years old - with his sharpened jawline, deep, deep voice, and final few centimeters of height (which, unfortunately, were not enough for him to surpass that damned Kim Mingyu) - that he finally realized the true nature of his feelings. Perhaps he was dense, or perhaps he just refused to accept his feelings for what they were. But the second time Mingyu asked for a kiss, Wonwoo knew that the pounding of his heart against his rib cage was not at all normal.

    Six years had passed since the first kiss, neither mentioning a word of it since it happened. But they both knew. They knew that it was at the forefront of their minds every time they spoke, every time they saw each other even.

    Wonwoo could never erase the flavor of peppermint from his memory either, no matter how hard he tried.

    The second kiss happened in a setting much like the first - nearly identical, in fact, the main difference being that both boys grew lankier, grew leaner. They sat side by side on Wonwoo’s bed, a Christmas movie that neither were too interested in playing on the TV across from them.

    Just like the first, Mingyu was beside Wonwoo, hand merely inches away from the elder’s, but not quite close enough to be touching, as Wonwoo so wished that they were. Both could feel it in the atmosphere around them; it was the same as that time. They stared straight ahead but occasionally spared glances at one another out of the corners of their eyes, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of one another.

    It was completely silent between them, and the tension in the air seemed to feel thicker and thicker until -

    “I’m in love with you, Kim Mingyu.”

    Wonwoo wasn’t aware that the words were leaving his mouth until he heard his own voice, heard himself saying the thing that he had only recently come to realize. A small part of him wished that he could take his statement back. A larger part prayed that Mingyu would say the same thing to him.

    Mingyu didn’t seem at all stunned by Wonwoo’s words, and the latter didn’t know whether he should feel relieved or upset by that fact. There was no shock, no difficulty accepting the new information - he simply slowly broke into a relaxed smile, a reaction that Wonwoo didn’t know what to make of.

    “I know,” came the simple answer, so incredibly anticlimactic in relation to what Wonwoo had just said.

    Silence once again surrounded them, and it was all that Wonwoo could do to turn his attention back to the film playing before them, wondering if this would be another instance not to be mentioned.

    “Wonwoo,” called Mingyu, finally speaking after ten, perhaps fifteen minutes.

    “Hm?” came Wonwoo’s reply, refusal to commit to a better as prominent as ever even as he grew older.

    “I think about that time we kissed a lot.”

    “Yeah. Me too.”

    “Wanna do it again?”

    “...Yeah.”

    This time around, Wonwoo knew what he was doing as he leaned in, kissing Mingyu with everything that had been building up for six years, Mingyu doing exactly the same.

    Maybe, just maybe, if the turnout was always like that, Wonwoo thought he could believe in Santa again.