a/n: if you haven't listened to Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas Is You.  A) what rock have you been hiding under, and B) here it is.

Chwe Hansol is reasonable.  Everyone who knows him would gladly agree that he is levelheaded.  A reasonable, generous, levelheaded person, however, could only be pushed so far before he or she arrived at the end of their rope.

Chwe Hansol had arrived at the end of his exceptionally long rope.

College is rough for anyone.  Sure, Hansol does okay, hovering just above average with the help of coffee, energy drinks, and many combinations of the two.  He might’ve had a few undesirable classes that require him to wake up at the crack of dawn some days, but he has learned how to cope.

Today, however, is not one of those days.  He is supposed to be able to sleep in today.  This is his day of rest when he doesn’t need to actually leave his dorm room or wear anything other than pajamas.  He should be dead to the world, with the exception of his roommate.  He shouldn’t even have to be awake before noon, and yet, here he lies at 9:00AM, approaching his snapping point at light speed.

Every time the song ends, Hansol hopes that it won’t start again.  But it does.  The twinkling sound of a xylophone (or something like that) starts up again.

“I don't want a lot for Christmas; there is just one thing I need.”  A male voice starts with a diva-esque excessiveness.  “I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true, oh, all I want for Christmas is you.”

The currently anonymous guy sings along to Mariah Carey’s Christmas classic, and he mimics everything about it, right down to the excessive ad-libs.  And it is driving Hansol up a freaking wall.  The man’s voice is gorgeous, and he harmonizes really well with Mariah’s voice, but Hansol can’t take it anymore.  Any other day and any other time, maybe, just maybe, he’d be more tolerant.

He can still hear them through the wall despite the fact that he’s covering his ears with pillows.  It’s so loud, and the dude just won’t stop.  Hansol has lost count of the number of times that the song has started and restarted.

Hansol wonders if this is only song that they have on their iPod.  Technically, playing a Christmas song is acceptable. The yuletide season has commenced, but Dear Lord in heaven, how can a person possibly listen to this song a trillion times in a row?  No one should subject themselves to that many sleigh bells consecutively willingly.  This is the kind of torture that a person endures while perusing the greeting cards at a gift store or office party.

Hansol rolls over in his bed, squinting at Soonyoung, who also looks tired and annoyed.

“If they listen to this one more time, I’m going to murder them.” Hansol seethes.  “With an axe.”

Soonyoung rubs his eye. “I’ll buy the axe for you," he promises. “This song will haunt my nightmares.”

Hansol pushes the pillow down on his ear even harder, risking suffocation in order to make this cheery nightmare end already.

The song ends in a fade-out, and Hansol and Soonyoung breath a sigh of relief.  It’s short-lived, considering a few moments later the twinkling comes back again along with a ridiculously long “I~” as the song starts again.

Hansol snaps, tearing his covers off and hopping out of bed to march straight to the source of their trouble.  He yanks the door open as Soonyoung rolls out of bed as well.  Hansol doesn’t care that he’s only in sweatpants, has bedhead, and a bad case of morning breath.  He’s only focused on punching whoever keeps on replaying “All I want for Christmas”.  Right now, all he wants for Christmas is to kill him.  That is how annoyed he is.

He bangs on the door of the neighboring room.  Apparently Seungkwan and Seokmin, as the decorations on their door claim, have made it their personal mission to torture the entire dorm with non-stop Mariah Carey.  (This will be the first time that Hansol has actually met them; they tend to be active during the morning whereas Hansol and Soonyoung do everything once the sun goes down.)

The song doesn’t stop, but the door swings open after the first verse ends.  A boy with a very bright, almost blinding, smile answers the door.  Unfortunately, the music and singing are roughly ten times louder now.  The smiley boy looks Hansol over but ends up addressing Soonyoung with a very interested, “Hello.”

Hansol had come too far to deal with early morning flirting and the continued sound of Mariah Carey and mystery boy’s voice grating against his ears.  Hansol snaps his fingers in front of the neighbor’s face, calling attention back to him.  “Turn it off.”  Hansol says with just the right amount of murder in his voice.

“Pardon?” The boy asks, as if there isn’t a Christmas song blasting through the walls.

“The song, the one you’ve been playing for the past twenty years.  I can’t take it anymore.  Turn it off.”  Hansol hisses with a clenched fist.  His eyes are dry, which really shouldn’t be an issue except that it makes him seem all that much angrier.

The boy at the door fails to respond quickly enough to angry/tired Hansol, so he pushes past the boy to turn it off himself.

Both Soonyoung and the boy at the door make noises in protest, but their words fall on deaf ears because Hansol needs to sleep.  It’s the only thing running through his mind, and this stupid song needs to be off in order for Hansol to go back to sleep.

The room itself is fairly tidy.  Seungkwan and Seokmin apparently decided to bunk their beds for more room, unlike Soonyoung and Hansol.  There’s a boy singing into a microphone as a semi-karaoke version of All I Want For Christmas plays on their TV with phonetic pronunciations of the English words appear in Hangul along with the original lyrics.

Hansol tears the microphone out of the singer’s hand with a look of hatred and annoyance.  He doesn’t care how affronted the stranger appears; he just yanks the plug on the karaoke machine and powers the TV down.  Everyone, including his own roommate, looks at him in shock as he turns to face the room.

“No more.” He hisses once more pointing at the people who live in the room.  “I will punch both of your lights out if I hear it again.”  His eye twitches as he finishes his threat.

Everyone seems sufficiently terrified in his sleep-deprived mind.  He hobbles off like a grumpy old neighbor that terrifies all the kids on the street.  He throws himself back into his bed at once, burrowing in the warmth of his covers.  He doesn’t think of it much as he drifts back to sleep while the other room remains silent.

When news of Hansol’s behavior reaches Jeonghan, the elder almost chokes on his hot chocolate.  He drags Hansol from the café across campus to his dorm and stands with crossed arms while jutting his chin toward Seungkwan and Seokmin’s door.  (Apparently, Soonyoung, the little traitor, spoke with them after Hansol left, and the person owed an apology was Seungkwan.  Hansol didn’t miss his roommate’s very pink cheeks when talking about Seokmin, the one who had opened the door.)

Hansol sulks, frowning deeply.  He really isn’t the best with apologies. He clicks his tongue, using a single curled finger to knock twice on Seungkwan’s door.  Really, they are both at fault for this whole mess.

The door opens rather quickly. Seungkwan’s eyes widen at the sight of Hansol; he half-shields himself behind the door, asking, “Are you going to yell at me again?”

“No.” Hansol mutters, refusing to lift his head up high enough to make eye contact.  He sees Jeonghan’s leg shake in annoyance.  He turns to his senior; “I’m not going to do it if you’re here.”

Jeonghan scoffs, turning on his heel and stalking off down the hall.  It leaves Hansol in front of Seungkwan, as the air grows stale from the awkwardness.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers barely audible.

“What was that?” Seungkwan asks, slowly pulling away from the safety of the door to hear Hansol better.

Hansol clears his throat, “I, Chwe Hansol, am sorry that I yelled at you because of Mariah Carey.”

Seungkwan smiles, and for a split second, Hansol’s heart short circuits.  This is someone he threatened to kill less than 48 hours ago.

After scratching the back of his head, Seungkwan speaks timidly, “I’m sorry that I played Mariah Carey repeatedly and too loud.”

Hansol his lips before asking, “Why did you play it so many times?”  He's genuinely curious; nobody likes that song that much.

“I’m singing it at a holiday competition, and I wanted to get perfect on the karaoke machine while I was practicing.”  Seungkwan admits quietly, scuffing the bottom of his shoe on the carpet.

“I mean,” Hansol starts, but stopping because he needs to swallow the embarrassment that’s building up in his throat.  He can't even look at Seungkwan as he doles out a compliment, “You’re a really good singer. It’s just the time of day and repetitiveness and the song.”

“Should I do a song that you like next time?”  Seungkwan asks with a teasing smile.

Hansol finds himself without a response.  Seungkwan is flirting with him.  What’s more is that Hansol is pretty sure that he likes it.  Seungkwan has pinch-able cheeks and a wonderful smile on top of his beautiful voice.

Hansol almost trips over his words; he doesn’t have a ton of experience with flirting with cute boys who initiate it.  His face contorts a little as he tries to think of a response that doesn’t give too much away. “How would you know my song preference?”

Hansol figures he’s about as smooth as chunky peanut butter at this point.

Seungkwan stifles a laugh.  It’s a really cute laugh, too.  Shoot, Hansol might be in love.  Seungkwan puts his game face back on, “Well, you would tell me.  Preferably over dinner.”

“When would that happen?”

Hansol had zero game to begin with, and now he’s actually getting worse.  When his friends find out about this, he’ll be ridiculed.  He’s all bark and no bite.

“7:00PM this Friday.”  Seungkwan answers concisely, closing his door before Hansol even confirms that he’s free.

Jeonghan returns from wherever he went.  “How’d it go?”

“I think I have a date.”  Hansol responds, as a smile grows on his face.  He’s too happy to be confounded by the progression of events.

a/n: ????
i no longer even try to have answers.  finals maybe?  procrastination?
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