“What the hell was that?”

I grimace as Himchan practically tackles me as I slink into the Galmegi. The rest of BAP trails behind him, anger and frustration in their eyes.

“I had no other choice,” I retort. “They didn’t attack me. I couldn’t just leave-,”

“Yes, you could’ve!” Yongguk says. “Officer Hwang just called me and said that if we don’t give her evidence that something fishy’s going on, she’s ending our grace period and turning us in.”

“They weren’t going to give us any evidence, anyway! They obviously didn’t attack me-,”

“You just made yourself look worse by acting all buddy-buddy with them,” Jongup points out. “She probably thinks you’re affiliated with-,”

“Officer Hwang’s calling,” Yongguk says, staring at his phone screen. “You need to talk to her, Lia.”

“Can you guys just give me a break?” I huff, exasperated. “I don’t need the third-degree from you guys- you know what? I’m leaving.”

“Lia-,”

. I know I ed up. The plan that I thought was so ingenious failed. I know. The warm, fuzzy feeling that Sihyo’s Oven created in my stomach has gone, replaced by frustration, humiliation, anger, self-loathing.

Just the usual.

The last thing I see before I close my eyes is Sora’s empty bed.

List of things one typically does on Christmas Day:

1. Exchange presents with loved ones. Pretend to be ecstatic at the new set of dish towels a well-meaning family member has given them.

2. Drink hot chocolate. Subsequently burn tongue right after.

3. Watch cheesy Christmas movies with annoying younger cousins as Aunt 1 and Cousin 6 argue over each other’s life decisions.

4. Frolic in the snow. Get frostbite.

    I’m sure that “working out” wouldn’t be anywhere on that list. But here I am, throwing a jacket over my workout clothes and trudging across the snowy grounds of campus and heading to SNU’s gym. I don’t want to deal with Zelo and Officer Hwang and BAP. No gangs today. I just want to be by my-

    The first thing I see when I walk into the gym is Joonmyeon bench-pressing sets of weights.

    I freeze.

    When his eyes slide over to the door, his muscles tense.

     him, I tell myself. Just ignore him and go exercise.

    Curling my lip, I stride over to the practice mats in the corner of the room and begin stretching. Of course. It’s just my luck that he had to be here.

    Let’s see which one of us comes to the other first. When you’re at my door again, we’ll see which one of us needs the other more.

    I grit my teeth. Hell no. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of going to him first.  

    God, doesn’t he have anywhere better to be on Christmas Day?

    After loosening up my muscles, I head to the weight station furthest away from him and begin warming up with my weights. I can’t help but peer at Joonmyeon’s bar while I’m doing my reps. Now that he’s not faking weak- my eyes widen. He’s benching straight 100 pound weights on each side of the bar- that’s 245 pounds. When we exercised together, he would go up to 100 pounds before whining and quitting.

    My jaw clenches. him. I skip the rest of my warmup- something I’ll no doubt be regretting tomorrow morning- and go straight to adding 50 pound weights on the ends of my bar. Joonmyeon sees what I am doing and smirks; he adds another 30 pounds to each side of his bar, bringing his weight total to 305 pounds.

    “That was my warmup,” he smugly informs me.

    “Did I ask?” I spit back in an acidic tone.

    “Please. At least I can get real workouts in now. When I trained with you, I had to act like I couldn’t even look at 150 pounds.”

    “You think I didn’t have to fake it, too? I restrained myself so I wouldn’t make you feel bad.” I stubbornly add another 50 pounds to the ends of my bars. “I’m capable of a lot more.”

    “Really? Because when we fought for real, you were much weaker than I was.” Joonmyeon snorts. “Sparring with you was always so boring. Pretending like I couldn’t defend myself when I could really snap your neck in half if I wanted to.”

    Joonmyeon’s eyes are hard, unrelenting. His words send a jolt through me. I can’t help but jerk back, blink hard.

    “Wow,” I finally utter. “Okay. You know what? Why don’t we put that to the test right now?”

    “What are you suggesting?”

    I stride over to the mats. “Let’s spar right here and now.”

    He an eyebrow. “Really.”

    “Really.” I crack my knuckles. “No holds barred. You can snap my neck in half if you want.”

    Joonmyeon stands up, towels off the sweat on his face. “That was just a theoretical example-,”

    “Go ahead and try,” I growl.

    “Okay.” Joonmyeon steps onto the mats. “Whoever’s unable to fight first loses.”

    “Got it.”

    He smirks. “Ready?”

    I launch myself at him before he’s even done speaking, my right arm cocked back and my fist aimed at his face. He effortlessly jerks back to avoid my punches as I throw double jabs, direct a left hook at him. When I bring my leg around in a roundhouse kick he blocks it with his left leg and ducks under my arm as I prepare to punch him once more- where did he- ! I stagger backwards as his foot lands square in the center of my stomach. Joonmyeon takes advantage of my momentary pause to kick me once again. His blow knocks me to the ground, but as he moves towards me I plant my feet into his abdomen, causing him to stumble backwards, wincing.

    “Not so tough, are you?” I say.

    The conceited sneer has vanished from his Joonmyeon’s face, replaced with a cold glower. I smile smugly.

    “It’s funny,” I sigh. “Here you were, acting like some kind of bigshot. ‘I spar with BTS every day’. Yeah, but you can’t-,”

    It happens so quickly that I can’t even process what is happening. Joonmyeon moves towards me and uppercuts my jaw; he slams his fingers into my solar plexus and I double over but he does not pause- suddenly what feels like a truck rams into the side of my body and I topple to the ground, trying to prevent my face from contorting in pain. Holy - get up, Hyo- he’s fighting like a machine- what the hell is-

    “Ah,” I groan as Joonmyeon digs his knee into my stomach, pressing all of his body weight down onto me. I wheeze in pain, desperately flailing around in an attempt to throw him off, but he refuses to let up. A heavy cough racks through my body- is that blood?- as he lands another punch in my gut. Within a matter of seconds, he has me pinned up against the floor, a forearm to my throat. I cry out in pain, my fingers desperately clawing at his arm, but he does not relent.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he tells me in a low voice. “Don’t think for a moment that I give a damn about you.”

Although the pain of his grip has not abated- if anything, it has grown stronger- my body slumps. His eyes are blazing with the pure hatred that is so characteristic of him. I let out a shaky breath.

    “Joonmyeon,” I choke. “Let up.”

    “Give up,” he utters tonelessly.

    Tears begin to fog up my vision. I swallow.

    “Joo- please-,”

    Spots dance in my vision. My body writhes around.

    “Joonmyeon,” I whisper, and something flicks on in his eyes and he removes his arm from my neck but keeps his body right above mine- so close that I can feel the heat of his skin on me. He is positioned between my legs, and I am caged between his arms. Something aches in his eyes; something familiar, recognizable. Pained. My nerves skitter with trepidation.

    “,” he hisses, and smashes his lips onto mine.

    Our kiss is sloppy, desperate. His hands erratically travel from my hair to my face to my arms, as if I am a spirit who he fears will disappear in a matter of seconds. I wrap my arms around his neck and tug him closer- the feeling of his lips moving against mine; his heavy, labored breaths as he pulls away and pushes off my top with shaking hands; fumbled movements as I respond in kind. He is holding onto me so tightly- I’m not leaving, Joonmyeon, I ing swear I’m not leaving- I never want to let go-

    “Just- just one day,” I rasp as he trails kisses down my neck. I hate myself because I know how many times I have said this but I can’t-

    Joonmyeon lifts me up, bridal-style, and repeats, “Just one day.”

    “Does it hurt?”

    Joonmyeon’s cold fingers move from combing through my wet hair to gently caressing my throat, the same area where he viciously pinned me down. I push his hand away.

    “Let’s not talk about what happened,” I utter. Every moment that I spend with him makes me regret my decision to take him back to my dorm. It’s something about my room that reminds me of all the-

    Oh. I know what it is.

    It’s Sora’s empty bed.

    .

    “So I heard you went to Sihyo’s Oven for Christmas Eve last night.”

    “Yeah.”

    “Trying to get the gangs caught?”

    I sharply look at him. “You know what we were planning, didn’t you. Is that why no one attacked me as I walked in?”

“No. It’s a rule that there’s no violence allowed at Sihyo’s on Christmas Eve. But I could figure out what you were planning when I heard about it. Especially since you’ve reunited BAP.”

Joonmyeon is saying this calmly, coldly. Nausea rises up in my stomach and I whirl around, so that I am straddling him. My fists are clenched by my side as I growl, “ you, Suho.”

He lazily an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

“Shut the up. You’re an evil, twisted bastard who gets off on watching other people suffer. You make me absolutely sick.”

“Mmmm.” Joonmyeon leans back in my bed, amusedly watching me from hooded eyes. “Keep talking.”

I snap. “There. See? That’s just another facade. This is your Suho character. At school, you play your Joonmyeon character. You’re just putting on a show. In reality, you have no control over yourself, don’t have any sense of integrity- you don’t even have a personality, do you? Just masks.”

Joonmyeon is still staring at me with that insouciant smirk, but I can see something hard rising up in his eyes.

“What are you going to manipulate me into doing next?” I press. “You’re keeping me around for kicks, because you know how I feel about you. You said you don’t give a damn about me. Just what you can use me for. You know what? I feel bad for you. You don’t even know what your real self is-,”

In a flash, Joonmyeon has flipped me over, so that he is hovering above me. He pins my arms above my head in a vice-like grip.

“My real self?” he snarls. “You don’t want to know about my real self. You don’t deserve to know- you think I don’t give a damn about you? Are you ing kidding me?”

I stubbornly glare back up at him. “My parents died. And you know why. But you won’t tell me, because you think it’s more fun to around with me! Tell me, Joonmyeon- how amusing is it to watch me helplessly flail around?”

“Your parents died because your father overheard the meeting about BTS,” Joonmyeon hisses. “Our men were ordered to eliminate anyone the information could have possibly spread to.”

I blink up at Joonmyeon, unable to say anything. My throat feels thick. The severity of what he has just told me sinks in. For a minute, we simply stare at each other, silent and unmoving.

And then I breathe, “Wow.”

Joonmyeon doesn’t say anything.

“So my parents died for BTS?” I say. “For your company? For you?”

Joonmyeon straightens up, releasing my hands from his hold. His expression is inscrutable.

“You want to get mad at me for killing ZE:A,” I utter. “But that was your company’s fault, Joonmyeon. If the blame hadn’t been shifted onto ZE:A, then I wouldn’t have gone after them.”

He looks down at me.

“You’re the reason why they’re dead,” I whisper.  

Joonmyeon’s face remains blank.

But he swallows.

Something flickers in his eyes.

He slowly stands. Without another word, he walks to the door and leaves.

I stare after the door long after he has left. Tears pool in my eyes, freely spill down my cheeks.

Merry Christmas, Hyo.

A/N: Hi guys! It's been ~1 month since I moved into college. Things are p good rn! my korean class is bomb! BTW, about the poster contest, I'm going to get the winners up by this weekend. Thank you so much to everyone who participated ily all <3 sorry for lack of updates ofc, hope yall are doing well. tell me how this chap was! im still a little rusty