Every time the hollow ding-dong of the announcement speaker sounds around the busy train station, Seungkwan's head will snap up and he'll wait in agonizing anticipation for: "Train 17 from Incheon arriving on platform 12" to crackle out. And every time it didn't, Seungkwan will sigh with his heart sinking faster than the flow of Niagara Falls.

It had been two weeks since Seungkwan had picked up his phone to the hip-hop beat of Hansol's familiar ringtone and heard the other exclaim through the phone with glee: "Baby, I'm coming home for the holidays!"

Seungkwan honestly could've screamed he was that excited, but he refrained for damaging his vocal chords with a screech was too apparent, and ultimately settled to choking out an excited laugh and expressing his happiness via words (and some gross kissing noises, but no one had to know about that).

His next fourteen days passed with pretty much the same kind of routine:

Seungkwan would wake up, roll over and feel a dwell in the momentary sadness as the space next to him on the soft yet small single bed was still unoccupied. He'd contemplate the feeling of Hansol’s fingers dragging through his scruffy fringe, his strained morning voice and endearing sleepy eyes before up the bittersweet absence and dragging himself from his mattress, muttering some sleep-affected phrase about how was only one day less with every frosty morning that passed.

Thirteen more days, twelve more days, eleven more days...

He'd trudge to the kitchen of his box-like apartment (which was kind of just a proportion of wall next to the sitting area lined with cupboards and appliances), fix himself either a bowl of Frosties or grab a piece of fruit (toast was a special-occasion-morning kind of breakfast) and gulp down a full mug of hot, milk and two sugar coffee. He’d wrap himself up in his warm winter coat, and slip his feet into his cozy snow boots, double checking his bag before setting out to work, making sure all the lights were turned off and his door was firmly locked.

Ten more days, nine more days, eight more days...

" Only a week?" Seungkwan squeaked into his phone, his brow furrowing as Chan across the table flinched and exclaimed in surprise before he shushing him to not speak so loud.

"What do you mean only a week ?" Seungkwan did lower his voice, but clearly not low enough for Chan's liking, who physically cringed and twisted in his seated to mouth apologies to the other lunch goers around them.

"I know, I know," Hansol sighed dejectedly on the other end of the line, "but my dad wants me to also visit home again this year, and winter break is only two weeks. I have to fit everyone in."

Seungkwan didn't want to argue with that - he knew Hansol was a very family oriented young man, and to put forward that he'd rather have his boyfriend visit him over his parents would be absolutely dreadful, not to mention selfish and totally embarrassing.

"I would try and sway him, but you of all people should know how stubborn my dad can be, Seungkwan.."

"I know," Seungkwan sniffed, rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his coat (winter weather had gotten to him, he guessed). "I just hoped we'd get longer together this year," he slumped back into the solid cafeteria seat and ran his finger around the rim on his polystyrene cup. "It was only a weekend last year and a whole week before Christmas day at that. Do you know what it's like having to spend Christmas at Seungcheol's? I mean, of course, I was thankful to him for letting me stay, but I have never seen a more grossly loved up couple than he and Jeonghan. You thought Seokmin and Soonyoung were bad, you should've seen those two - my God . I'm all for some Christmas lovin', but sometimes too much is just too much.” He paused for a breath. “And don't even get me started on Seungcheol's cousin. Jihoon was by far the saltiest human being I have ever met. Like, thank the Lord Jisoo was there to keep him tongue every time he tried to make a snarky comment he had cooked up in that condescending brain of his--"

"Hyung, you're rambling again," Chan interjected with a sigh, peering at Seungkwan over the top of his soda can (how anyone could drink an ice cold Tango in the winter was a mystery). "Let Hansol-hyung at least get a word in."

"I don't know about you, Kwan, but that sounds like a fantastic Christmas to me," Hansol chuckled, and Seungkwan wished he was in the canteen with Chan and himself, mainly so he could hear that laugh in real life, but also kind of to give him a punch.

Seungkwan snorted - not the most attractive sound he could make, but oh well. "Don't even joke about that, please." He sighed again, biting his lip as he added: "It's only Christmas if it's with you."

"No, no, no," Hansol whined over the phone, and Seungkwan kind of melts a bit inside while ignoring Chan who had gotten up to leave, groaning something about going to sit with a someone single. "Don't start that. Christmas is still Christmas, even if I'm 5,000-ish miles away."

Seungkwan paused and thought. "New York is further away than L.A."

"Yeah, but only by a thousand miles or so."

"Yeah," Seungkwan repeated, breathing a forced laugh with a half-hearted side smile. "Only a thousand miles or so."

Seven more days, six more days, five more days...

"By the way," Hansol's pixelate face was blurry on Seungkwan's monitor and his voice sounded a lot more robotic than over the phone (damned this apartment's crappy connection), "if you start decorating the flat without me, we're getting a divorce."

Seungkwan stopped chomping on his double chocolate chip cookie and frowns at the electronic deception of Hansol's face. "Baby, we're not even married."

"Not yet." Hansol winked, he winked , and as much as Seungkwan wanted to hang up the video chat and not talk to his boyfriend for the night as punishment, he couldn't, for the smile that spread across his chubbying cheeks (it was the holidays - chocolate was a must) was far too strong to stop.

"Ever heard of a being too sweet?" Seungkwan swallowed his mouthful of cookie and wiped a stray crumb from the corner of his lip. "Anyway, no need to worry. My flat is as bare as a shaved sheep until you're home. Scout's honor." (Seungkwan was never in the Boy Scouts) He smiled sweetly, heart fluttering when his screen was filled with Hansol's matching grin.

The call ended later with the bidding of sweet dreams and a promise to speak tomorrow. Seungkwan wandered from his bedroom to the sitting room after, tapping away at his phone in one hand and sipping lightly at the glass of milk in the other. He set the drink aside and held his hand on his hip with an unamused look on his features, scanning the biggest room with his tired, red and irritated eyes.

He guessed he could put away the tinsel, collapse the tree and hide the novelty snowman in the morning.

Four more days, three more days, two more days...

"You didn't pick up all day," Hansol's voice echoed from the Seungkwan's phone, the device being held between his shoulder and his ear as he struggled to get the key into the lock while also balancing the gift bag from Junhui and his grocery shopping. “I was getting a bit worried."

"So you decided to leave eight messages?" Seungkwan giggled, mentally congratulating himself as he finally managed to push open his front door. “And about a million texts?”

"Hey, I was worried, okay?" Hansol defended, his voice tensing to mask the fragile front being broken. "Who knows what could happen without me there to protect you."

Seungkwan faked a belching noise. "Save it for the silver screen, Mr. Heroic." He released everything from his arms by the front door, not minding as the bags fell to the floor with a solid clunk.

"Where were you anyway?" Hansol's voice peaked in curiosity. "Surely work didn't run over all the way until 9pm. "

Seungkwan hums to himself. "Remember in high school when you had that bad-boy-who-don't-give-no-craps aroma ? I miss those days - you didn't get on my back as much."

"No, I'm still a bad boy who don't give no craps," Hansol scoffs, "I'm just making sure you aren’t being unfaithful."

"That, baby, is what I believe is giving a crap."

"You're a crap."

" Your crap, nonetheless."

"...Touché."

Petty spats.

Seungkwan smiled and slumped down on the couch with a heavy sigh. "I was at Junhui and Minghao's engagement party. After six years his finally popped the question."

"Oh," Hansol exhaled from the other end and Seungkwan felt a stab of guilt in his gut. He knows Hansol didn't like being 5,187 nautical miles from Seungkwan but he did his best not to show it a lot.

"It's just distance," Hansol said to Seungkwan as they stood embracing in the airport, "it's nothing." Summer was ending and so, as it would seem, the passionate romance two kids from high school shared before one jetted off to the USofA to start his college career.

"It's not just nothing, though, Hansol." Seungkwan bit his lip to stop the sob that was clawing at the sides of his throat, "It's 5,000 or so miles. It's apretty big nothing."

"Yeah, but it doesn't have to be a pretty big nothing if we don't make it a pretty big nothing." Hansol holds Seungkwan's face in his palms, that annoying, -eating grin splashed across his lips as he pushes the cheeks together to make Seungkwan resemble something like that of a fish. "I'm not going forever."

"Only five years," Seungkwan scoffed, though it came out more like 'onwy fibeu yearsh' due to his temporary facial lift.

"You can hold on for that long." Hansol dropped his hands and threw an arm around Seungkwan's shoulders instead. "I know you can. I will too."

Seungkwan knows that Hansol hates it when Seungkwan does all those things that they should do together as a young couple: He doesn't like it when Seungkwan goes grocery shopping by himself, having to carry all those bags home on his own, when if Hansol was there - they could've done together. He hates it when Seungkwan get's invited to events like their close friend's engagement parties when they should attend together. He hates having to go to bed every night knowing, that on the other side of the world, Seungkwan is curled up in the bed they should share together, alone. He hates being away from Seungkwan, because being a relationship but not being in the relationship is the worst thing he can imagine.

"Sounds like fun," Hansol continued and Seungkwan smiled softly to himself.

"Oh, it was." He rolled onto his stomach and reached his hand out to the coffee table where his favorite selection of chocolates sat, just begging to be eaten. "Until Minghao quote, unquote accidently took a sip too many of Wonwoo's vodka and coke. Remember that time in twelfth grade when we snuck your parent's wine out and drank it under the bleachers? Remember how easily Minghao got tipsy from it? Yeah, the vodka Wonwoo had was 37.5% alcohol, so you can imagine how the groom-to-be was like after that. "

"No wonder the party ended so early," Hansol began to laugh, "that guy's weaker than a baby in an arm wrestling match. "

"Yeah." Seungkwan matched his laughter, giggling until it faded off into a thick yet comfortable silence.

"I miss you," Hansol exasperates after a few moments of listening to his soft breath over the phone, “Like, a lot."

Seungkwan rolled again onto his back and stared up at the bland ceiling (it would've been filled with decorations by now if it weren't for Hansol). "I miss you, too."

"Just one more day."

"Yeah." A wide grin erupted onto Seungkwan's calm features. "One more day."

One more day...

Seungkwan yanks the headphones out of his ears as the hollow ding-dong yet again filled the now sparsely populated train station ."Train 42 from Busan--" He stopped listening after that, not caring much for the passengers on Train 42 from Busan unless one of those passengers were Hansol. Which they weren't.

Hansol's train was due three hours ago, at quarter-to-eleven in the evening, yet here Seungkwan sat, at two-forty-two in the morning, freezing his behind off in nothing but his thick jumper (Hansol's thick jumper, technically) and jeans, waiting for the late comer. He knew he couldn't be pissed off at Hansol - it wasn't his fault the train had been delayed - but he was cold, tired and in need of some hugs (Chan wouldn't cut it as a substitute this time), and he didn't know anyone else to blame.

And to top it off, Hansol hadn't texted or called once during those three lonely hours. If you're gonna be home late, at least have the decency to keep me company via technology, Seungkwan thought bitterly to himself, cursing the other out and was in the middle of seriously reconsidering the grounds of their relationship when his music stops and his legs start to tingle from the vibrations of his phone.

He pouts looking at the caller ID, pulling out his headphones and placing the device to his ear feverishly. "I demand three hours of cuddles the minute you get here Hansol Choi."

"I'm sorry, Boo," Hansol sniffs, and Seungkwan feels his heart sink to the pit of his stomach at the pure dejection in Hansol's voice.

"It's alright, I guess," Seungkwan pulls a little smile, "it's not your fault. But I'm serious, you owe me a heap of loving.”

"It is my fault," Hansol hesitates and Seungkwan is physically on the end of his seat with panic rising in his belly because something's not right about his voice. "I, uh..."

Spit it out, Hansol!

"...I got on the wrong train."

“You got… on the wrong… train…” Seungkwan deadpans and opens his mouth a few times like a gobsmacked goldfish. "How- How?" He cries, "You had one job, and that was to get on the right train and you couldn’t even do that?" Seungkwan’s voice rose as high as his temper. Yes, being pissed at Hansol was now justified, and Seungkwan was a little to fired over the fact he now had someone to blame.

"I know, I know! I'm sorry!"

"You truly are an idiot, Hansol! I've been sitting here, in the train station, for three hours now! It's freezing, my feet hurt, it's late, I'm tired and you didn't even send me one message to tell me you're gonna be late?" Seungkwan was up on his feet, shouting down the receiver as he was thrown multiple strange looks by the light night arrivals. "Where are you now?"

"I think-"

“You think? You think !” Seungkwan grunts and kicks the black seat he was previously sitting on. "Well, when you figure it out, I'll be at home." The sarcasm and venom were lethal in his voice. "Feel free to join me if you don't get lost when you finally find your way to Seoul!" Before Hansol could get a word in, Seungkwan ends the call, stuffing his phone into his back pocket and stalking out of the train station with a pissed off stride in his step. He barrels home, hugging himself tightly and fighting with the imaginary Hansol that, in his head was following him, prying him for forgiveness.

Seungkwan is a messy mix of love and hate. God, he is so irked. How could Hansol be so dense as to get on the wrong train? You’d think, that when someone was as desperate to get home as Hansol was, he’d take extra care in his journey, double checking his ticket, double checking the time. It wasn’t hard - get off the plane, get on the train. But no, Choi Hansol somehow screwed that one up and leave his beloved boyfriend shivering in the train station seat, no warm, soft Hansol to hold.

But Lord, does Seungkwan long for just that - he pines to have Hansol wrap him up in his arms, cuddle him, kiss him, make him special and fuzzy inside like he hasn’t felt in the many months they’ve been apart. He wants to spend hours and hours doing nothing but lay with Hansol, natter mindlessly about the least important topics but have it mean everything because it was them. He wanted nothing more in the world than to have Hansol back and be his, make him feel so, so loved.

The tall, dark silhouette of Seungkwan’s apartment looms into view and he sighs for the umpteenth time for that night. The windows lining the side picture perfect holiday homes. Tree in view, fire (even if fake) crackling, cookies and milk set out ready for a certain man to take in exchange for presents. Seungkwan’s window was dark - blinds drawn with no tree nor decorations yet. He’s waiting for Hansol to do that with, just like he asked. Seungkwan is good like that.

As he nears his third floor flat door, Seungkwan swears it’s colder in the hallow halls than it is outside with the blistering wind. Key shoved in lock, Seungkwan twists with numb fingers, awaiting the unwelcoming emptiness of his home. He just wants to crawl under his covers (maybe cry) for a while.

He didn’t bargain to be attacked by an overwhelming waft of warmth as he pushes open his apartment door. He didn’t bargain to be met with the sweet scent of boiling hot chocolate, or to have his television temporarily transformed into a fireplace. He did not, of all things, bargain a lean, messy haired, red faced boy bundled up in his winter wear leaning against his kitchen counter.

Choi Hansol, you bastard.

His smile is angelic - wide and bright bearing all his pearly white teeth as grins at the shaken Seungkwan in the door. His hair is shorter and darker than Seungkwan remembers, now not parted but combed over so his forehead was hidden and a stronger shade of brown. Everything else, though, from his slanted, shapely nose to his fresh pale skin to his pretty pink lips, was just as Seungkwan knows, just as he sees in his dreams every night. Hansol was familiar, and here.

“Surprise?” Hansol chuckles, his uncertain tone and cheeky smile bubbling annoyance in Seungkwan, despite the combatting relief and happiness of having him home.

It’s too much, too many emotions floating around in Seungkwan’s head and heart for him to maintain composure. As he lets the front door slam behind him, Seungkwan snaps, burying his face in his hands and letting out many ugly sobs.

Hansol’s arms are around him in a nanosecond, the smell of his foreignly washed clothes protruding past Seungkwan’s blocked nose as he face and body is enveloped into Hansol. Soft shushes and a hand ruffling the back of his hair, Seungkwan falls deeper and deeper into the surreal feeling of Hansol, no doubt soaking the younger’s jumper with his tears as he blubbers: “You said you got lost!”

“I said I got on the wrong train, you got angry and hung up on me before I could say ‘I’m outside your apartment.’” Hansol’s voice bounded with amusement as he smiles down as Seungkwan with his eyes creasing.

Seungkwan sniffs, glancing up at Hansol with big, glossy eyes (honestly he was just trying to convey that he really wanted his forgiveness). “You could’ve called back.”

Hansol shrugs, his signature -eating grin plastered across his face. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise.” He rubs his hands over Seungkwan’s shivering body, his face falling into concern. “You’re freezing! Why the hell did you go out without a coat?”

“I figured I wouldn’t be too long since you were meant to get here at quarter-to-eleven, not at three in the morning.”

Hansol sighs and hands Seungkwan a steaming mug of chocolate from the counter behind him. “Yes, and I’m incredibly sorry about that,” he brushes a stray hair from Seungkwan’s fringe, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Seungkwan gulps down the scalding liquid, shivering as it pours down his throat into his frozen body. “You seriously had better.”

Moving the cup from his mouth, Seungkwan finally receives the gift he’s been longing for months to get. Hansol, as gentle as a feather, pushes his lips to Seungkwan’s, softly and slowly reclaiming his place there. So warm, so familiar, Seungkwan almost feels himself well up at the sensation. He missed Hansol, so, so, so much it almost hurt, but he was here now (hours late, but still).

Pulling apart wasn’t met with sadness - Seungkwan knew that kiss would be the first of many for that week - because finally, finally, it felt like Christmas.