Outside the walls of the school, Daegu was blanketed in thick mounds of snow, hanging on to the trees or piled up in mini mountains near the curbs. The wind whistled every time it blew, taking snow and uplifting it into the air before letting it fall back down to the cold ground. Bright lights in colors ranging from red and green to teal and yellow were obnoxiously adorned on almost every house, along with tacky and garrish looking plastic Santas, reindeer and anything else deemed ‘festive.’

Yoongi was never too fond of Christmas. Particularly, he wasn’t too fond of the commercialized bull, and getting his hopes up after watching the specials that would play on television in the off chance he was allowed to watch it, and internalizing the warm fuzzy feelings that came with messages about family and spending time with loved ones and then that message getting lost in the flashiness of it all. To him, Christmas was a contest, and everyone was competing to buy their child the next new thing, or cover their house in as many flashy decorations as possible in a grand show of wealth and passive aggressive messages of “my family is better than yours.”

Or, at least, that’s what Christmas was always like in his old neighborhood before the move to Seoul; a development inhabited by people with too much money and way too much free time, and he was glad that when he and his mom moved back, she picked a small house in Jimin’s neighborhood, away from all of that.

Perhaps that was intentional.

Yoongi pulled out his phone to check the time. Five minutes until Jimin and Taehyung were supposed to meet him at the auditorium entrance where Mrs. Park was picking them up to take them all to her house for ‘Friendsmas,’ which was basically Jimin’s mission name for getting Yoongi to like Christmas.

It started when Yoongi was 11 and Jimin was 9, when the holiday season rolled around for the third time into their friendship. Jimin was talking about how excited he was to see what his parents got him (he had found out Santa wasn’t real earlier that year, it crushed his little heart), a gap where his front top right front tooth should’ve been giving him a slight lisp, when he noticed Yoongi wasn’t engaging at all.

“What’th wrong, hyung?” Jimin had asked, eyes wide with concern.

Yoongi shrugged and said, “I don’t really like Christmas. I never get what I really want.”

“Well what do you really want?”

Yoongi looked down at his feet. “For my dad to hug me.”

Jimin bolted up and down the stairs in an instant, leaving Yoongi confused on the floor of Jimin’s bedroom.

“Mom! Dad!” he hears Jimin’s voice, and jumps up to follow him. He didn’t want Jimin’s parents to know about it. He was embarrassed.

He got their just a second late, bounding down the steps just in time for him to hear. “Dad! Yoongi wanth hugth for Chrithtmath but his dad doethn’t hug him. Will you hug him. Pleathe?”

And he was absolutely mortified. Tears stung at the back of his eyes, but he kept them down with his father’s words in his head. “Boys don’t cry.”

Through his eyelashes, Yoongi could see Mr. Park bound slowly to him, and kneel down to his level. He felt a hand on his chin to carefully tilt his head up, and in the gentlest voice he’s ever heard from a male authority figure, Mr. Park asked, “Would you like a hug, Yoongi?”

After a moment of contemplation, he nodded, and Mr. Park wrapped his arms around him like an electric blanket, just as warm.

“I’m sorry to hear that Yoongi,” he says, softly, “but if you want, you can sleep over the night before Christmas Eve, and you can celebrate with us. How does that sound?”

And thus, was the birth of “Friendsmas.” It used to be just a Jimin and Yoongi thing, until Taehyung and Jungkook came along but Yoongi didn’t mind extending it to them as well. Sometimes the concentrated attention made him uncomfortable, anyways.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he glances over the hallways one more time. They were decorated minimally, with only red and green tinsel lining the bulletin boards and the occasional wreath on a classroom door. Nothing grand, but Yoongi preferred it that way.

He goes into his pocket one more time, but a distinct “Hyung!” from somewhere the opposite end of the hallways stops him. Giddy, he smiles to himself and slowly turns around to see Taehyung and Jimin through a crowd of people coming down the hallway, and maybe it was his own imagination, but Jimin was surrounded by a ring of light, golden in hue and lightly dusted with sparkles. Maybe it was some Christmas magic making his boyfriend look like even more of an angel.

Yoongi giggled at the way his heart sped up. He was still getting used to the word.

It had been a month since that day on the swing set. A month since Yoongi confessed to Jimin that he was in love with him, a month since they shared their first kiss (and second, and third) but surprisingly, the addition of kisses were the only real thing that changed between them. Jimin still held his hand whenever he got the chance, they still found themselves cuddling after a long day at school, they still acted like best friends.

Or maybe they were actually dating this entire time and neither of them realized it.

Yoongi reached out for Jimin’s hand when he and Taehyung neared, enveloping his small, chubby hands into his larger veiny ones, pulling him closer until they were practically snuggled up against the lockers.

“Hey you,” he said quietly, leaning down to deliver a tender kiss into the top of his head.

Jimin pressed his lips together to suppress his smile, and shyly peaks up at Yoongi through his eyelashes. “Hi,” he says back shyly.

“AWWWWWWW!”

Jimin and Yoongi cringe.

“Tae, it’s been a month, you can stop doing that now.”

“I can’t help it,” Taehyung squeals. “You guys are just so cute, I could die.”

“Tae-”

“Plus now I don’t have to listen to ‘Omg, Yoongi hyung’s so cute, and cool, what am I gonna dooo?’”

Yoongi quirks up an eyebrow at that. “Oh?” he questions, looking to Jimin but the younger, betrayed and embarrassed, has dropped his head into his hands.

“Tae! That was supposed to be a secret,” he muffles. Yoongi, incredibly amused, rubs his shoulders. “I don’t even talk like that.”

“You kinda do,” Yoongi pipes up.

Jimin snaps his head up. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on the side of truth.”

Jimin pouts, and he looks so adorable with his lip jutted and his scarf and beanie fit snuggly on his body that Yoongi can’t resist leaning down even farther, quickly pecking Jimin’s full lips and making him squeak.

“Not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war, Jiminie.”

“Not when I’m trying to be mad at y-”

“Disgusting.”

All three of them go still at the voice: quiet and badly masked by a cough but still audible. Yoongi knits his eyebrows together, about to look around to see where the voice came from when Jimin’s chair suddenly jolts forward, pushing him into the lockers with an upsetting clash. Yoongi’s arms instinctively wrap around Jimin’s body,

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks with his hands gripping the handles, looking around frantically for the culprit until they land on something behind Yoongi. His face twists into a snarl.

Yoongi turns around, face hard set into a glare because he already knows who it is, and just catches the end of Jiho’s profile before he turns his head completely, walking pompously down the other end of the hallway.

Nobody else was paying attention, going about their business as if nothing happened, and that spiked Yoongi’s blood from simmering to boiling. Of course they weren’t. Of ing course.

He straightens his back, will every intention to walk up to Jiho and tackle him to the ground because he’s tired of this. He’s tired of people stepping on him and the people he cares about, and he’s tired of being too afraid to do anything about it. He’s fed up.

He takes one determined step, eyes zeroed in on Jiho’s back-

“Jiho!”

He stops. The sound of wheels on the tile floor squeak in his ears, and suddenly Jimin is in front him, zooming past him and Yoongi’s briefly worried he won’t be able to stop himself with how fast he’s going before he realized what he was doing, and he realizes he has much bigger things to worry about.

“Jiho!” Jimin shouts again. The boy in question turns around, and his face contorts into one of confusion when he sees Jimin coming towards him. He looks like he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or just walk away. Yoongi wants to punch him even more.

“You wanna say that again?” Jiimin questions forcefully. “Maybe a little louder, so everyone can hear you, hmm?”

Jiho’s slowly backs away as eyes shift to the crowd forming around them before landing on Jimin again. Yoongi can only see his back and shoulders, but he can tell from his body language - rigid, but tilted just the slightest bit forward - that he’s serious. He almost wants to step in, but voice in his head that sounds like Jimin is telling him to hold back, and let him do this.

“Or maybe you just want to go straight to hitting me.” Jimin spits. “Like when you knocked me out and then locked me in a closet. Remember that, Jiho?”

Jimin pushes himself closer. “So what are you waiting for, huh? Hit me.”

Jiho backs up even more, eyeing the crowd that has now grown twice in size. Yoongi would say he looked nervous, and when Jimin wheels himself forward even more, so quick and fast he’s managed to back Jiho against the lockers, Yoongi would say he even almost looks scared. Out of the corner of his eye, Taehyung steps forward, but Yoongi puts his arm out to stop him.

“Come on. You’re ballsy enough to call me disgusting under your breath but not ballsy enough to say it with your chest? Hit me!” Jimin screams up at him, and when Jiho stays silent, he does something completely unexpected. He leans forward, and steps out with his good leg, planting his foot on the floor and with all the strength he has, pushes himself up against the arm rests while flinging himself forward, catching himself on the lockers with his hands that slam into them on either side of Jiho’s face with a loud clang that makes almost everybody jolt.

“Hit me!” he screams again, his nose a mere inches from Jiho’s face, who’s eyes have gone comically wide.

It’s quieter than an abandoned town as everyone waits with baited breath for whatever is going to happen next. Yoongi himself feels a buzzing under his skin, half of his heart swelling with pride and the other half trying to beat out of his chest with anxiety.

After what seems like forever, Jiho looks down at Jimin’s lower half for a few seconds, seemingly studying it, from what Yoongi can tell, and then looks back up, pointedly putting his hand on Jimin’s left arm, and carefully moves it out of his way.

“Whatever,” he says under his breath, stepping out from in front of Jimin and shoving his hands in his pockets, walking out of the crowd.

The crowd slowly dissipates, going back to their usual business and from Yoongi’s spot at the other end of the hallway, he lets out a small chuckle. Because if Jiho had moved Jimin’s right arm, and with just a little bit more force, he could have thrown him off his balance and sent him to the ground.

But he didn’t.

Jimin a little dazed looks down to Yoongi and Taehyung, and both of them run to his side, helping him back into his chair.

“What were you thinking?” Taehyung asks, helping to support his left right side as Jimin lowered himself back into the seat.

“That,” Jimin starts, still dazed, “was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

And then he turns to Taehyung, and suddenly, busts into a series of chuckles that gradually get louder, until he’s full on laughing, loud and infectious. Yoongi and Taehyung share a look, and pretty soon they’re laughing along with him, though nothing about the situation was very funny.

“Come on, you little devil,” Yoongi says when the laughter’s finally died down. “Your mom’s probably waiting for us.”

-

The smell of vanilla and peppermint hit Yoongi the second he walks into Jimin’s house. Mrs. Park always had a thing for candles, and had a dresser drawer full of them in the attic. He’s pretty sure she had one for every occasion.

The fire place, which housed the Park family stockings, is burning as always, the smell of smoke intermingling with the vanilla and peppermint scent, filling Yoongi with warm fuzzy feelings that are usually foreign to him this time of year. It was always a nice change. The tree is smaller than it was last Christmas, but just as lavishly decorated, draped in gold and silver tinsel, wrapped around multiple times. Pictures of the family through the years in small wooden frames were also hanging on the real branches. The ornaments, however, were purple and blue, as opposed to the traditional red and green or silver and gold, unconventionally conventional. Boxes and boxes of presents wrapped haphazardly were piled under it, including one mysteriously big one that Yoongi immediately wondered who was for.

Fairy lights in colors of the rainbow were also drapped on the walls lining the ceiling, the walls and the door, filling the room with multiple layers of light. It was bright and overwhelming, a direct contrast to the house outside, but Yoongi didn’t hate it like he usually does. Maybe because it was inside, and therefore private, for their eyes only.

“It smells so good in here,” Jungkook comments, kicking his shoes off at the door. “Is Mr. Park cooking already? Ow!”

Taehyung takes his hand from his ear. “That’s not the first thing you ask when you enter someones house, Kookie.”

Mrs. Park laughs. “Oh it’s quite alright. I know he means no harm,” she smiles warmly, the scar on her cheek forming a parenthesis as she does so. “And the answer is yes, he’s in the kitchen right now.”

“Sweet,” Jungkook says, and then, when Mrs. Park isn’t looking, sticks his tongue out at Taehyung. The red head rolled his eyes.

They ditch all of their shoes and access clothes at the door, and in the next hours find themselves in the dining room. Yoongi’s say next to Jimin - who’s holding his hand under the table - on his left, while Taehyung’s on his right, and Jungkook to his right. Mr. Park and Mrs. Park are standing by the stove. It’s about half past 5pm, and the yukjeon (one of Yoongi’s personal favorites) tteokguk, and sigeumchi nanmul is done and currently being served on fine China.

Conversation flows easy once everybody is served, mainly thanks to Taehyung, because the boy could talk about pretty much anything and to anyone. It ranges from school, to Yoongi’s hair (he hasn’t touched up the roots recently, and looks something like a skunk) until somehow the subject falls on Jimin, and what happened at school that day.

Nervously, he recounts the events to his parents with his eyes on his food. Underneath the table Yoongi squeezes his hand, silently supporting him.

When he’s done, Mrs. Park nods carefully. “Ok,” she starts slowly, “Have you talked to your therapist about the prosthetic? I know you said you wanted to before you made a final decision.”

Jimin lets out a shaky breath, but nods confidently. “Yes. I don’t want one.”

“And you’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Mrs. Park brings her mug to her lips with a glint of something in her eye, like she has a secret. “Ok,” she says, taking a thoughtful sip.

Yoongi and Taehyung clean up the kitchen once dinner is over, and afterwards Jimin, Jungkook and Yoongi are on the couch while Taehyung is digging through their Christmas movie collection.

“We could watch the Polar Express?” he suggests, holding up the box.

Jungkook groans. “We watched that last year.”

“But it’s so good!” Taehyung argues.

“Not with that annoying kid in the glasses that sounds like Mandark from Dexter’s Laboratory.”

“You’re not even old enough to know what Dexter’s Laboratory is,” Taehyung huffs, but places the box back on the shelf to grab another one. “What about The Santa Claus.”

“Too old.”

“It’s a classic.”

“It’s old.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes dramatically, searching for another one. “What about National Lampoons Christmas Vacation?”

“That’s even older than The Santa Claus.”

Taehyung throws his arms up. “Well what do you want, Kookie?”

Jungkook smiles innocently. “Krampus.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Like hell we’re watching Krampus with your baby .”

“I’m not a baby, I’m 14,” he whines, sounding very much like a baby. “And you’re not even 16 yet.”

“I turn 16 in literally a week.”

“Congratulations, do you want a cookie.”

Taehyung bats his eyelashes. “You’re the only cookie I want, Kookie.”

“Stop calling me K-”

Their arguing is cut off by a sudden ringing. They all look to each other in confusion before Yoongi feels the vibration under his . Jimin leans away so he can reach under himself to his back pocket where his phone is snugly resting. He quickly checks the caller ID before clicking answer.

“Hey, mom, is everything ok?”

“Yoongi! Hi, why did you call me?” she says sounding frazzled on the other end.

Yoongi scrunches his nose. “I’m pretty sure it was you that called me.”

“N-nope, sorry, I don’t recall anything of the sort.”

Yoongi pauses. “Are you okay?”

“Yep! Never better. I’m fan-freaking-tastic.” she says, followed by someones muffled laughter.

“Who was that?”

“No one!” she answers almost too quickly, voice to high. “Definitely not anyone you know. But um, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay sweetie? Mwah! Say hi to Jimin for me, bye!”

And then she hangs up. Yoongi eyes his phone like it just grew a head and tentacles.

“Everything okay?” Jimin asks. Yoongi shifts his gaze from Jimin back to his phone about 5 times before shrugging and says “Yeah, it’s probably just my mom being my mom,” and puts his phone back in his pocket.

They end up watching Krampus after all, because Jungkook is a brat and Jungkook always gets what he wants.

Despite it’s funny moments, by about halfway through, they’re all snuggled up on the couch with the blankets up to their ears. Jungkook is practically in Taehyung’s lap, every now and then using his chest to conceal his eyes. Jimin is doing the same to Yoongi, and Yoongi has his arms wrapped around him, partially protecting him and also partially so he has something to squeeze during jump scares.

One the screen, the music is ominous. Something’s building, and the anticipation has Yoongi wrapping his arms around Jimin’s waste just a little bit tighter, bracing himself for the jump scare that he knows is coming any sec-

Someone bangs heavily on the door, and all four of them jump at least four feet in the air.

"Jesus," Jungkook utters.

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, it's Christmas." Yoongi says and untangles himself from Jimin and the rest of them, wordlessly volunteering to get the door, turning on the living room light on his way. In passing, he wonders who could be visiting the Park’s on Christmas Eve Eve, but when he opens the door, he sees quite possibly the last person he was expecting.

His jaw hangs as he takes him in. He’s wrapped up in a striking blue scarf with giant snowmen on it, and a black coat that hung to his knees, and sporting his signature heart shaped smile. His hair was different, laying on his forehead instead of spiked up like he remembered, but he still looked exactly the same.

“Hoseok?”

Hoseok, smiled, big and goofy and threw his hands up. “In the flesh.”

“Oh my God!” Yoongi exclaimed, throwing his arms around him. Hoseok hugged him back, tight and constricting around his middle and making it a little hard for him to breath, but it. It was Hoseok, and Hoseok was always one of the exceptions.

“I can’t believe - how - what are you doing here?” Yoongi asked when they broke apart.

“I’m here for Christmas! I thought the rest of my family was back in Gwangju but it turns out I have family here, too. Who knew, right? Oh!” His eyebrows shoot up. “And I brought tag-a-longs.”

Just as Yoongi’s opening his mouth to ask, a voice coming up from behind Hoseok beats him to it.

“I can’t believe you left me and Joonie to carry your . Do I look like a maid to you?” Seokjin appears beside Hoseok in a matching pink hat and scarf, shoving a giant plastic bag in his arms.

“Yeah, not cool man,” Namjoon appears next to him with all his hair stuffed under a gray beanie, carrying an identical plastic bag.

“I’m sorry but how was I supposed to hug Yoongi with a bunch of bags in my arms?”

Seokjin looks unimpressed.

“I appreciate your sacrifice?”

Namjoon snorts.

“Anyways,” Seokjin rolls his eyes and turns to Yoongi and wordlessly holds his arms open. Yoongi stares at them both with his jaw hanging before he eagerly steps into them. His hugs were always the best, his broad shoulders wrapping him up like a blanket.

“It’s so good to see you guys again,” Yoongi sighed into his chest before withdrawing to give Namjoon the same attention. When he stepped out of Namjoon’s arms, he stepped back to just…look at them. Seokjin appeared older somehow, the first semester of college must have aged him, but he was still as handsome as he’s always been. Probably always will be, too. Yoongi was only a little bit jealous. Namjoon, who had taken off his beanie, has died his hair, now an ash blond and brown mixture, with the sides grown out a bit instead of shaved.

It might just be a Christmas miracle.

“Um, Yoongi hyung?”

He snapped his head in the direction of a confused looking Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung still on the couch.

“Oh yeah, this isn’t actually my house,” he says, gesturing for them to come inside. “Guys, this is Jimin, my boyfriend, Taehyung, and Jungkook. You guys, this is Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin hyung.” He pauses. “Wait, this isn’t my house. How did you guys know where I was?”

Hoseok stops waving at the three youngest to answer him. “Oh! We stopped by your mom’s house, the address you gave me, but she said you were here. And then she tried to call you to tell you I was here but I said I wanted it to be a surprise so when you answered the phone, she panicked. It was so funny. I missed your mom.”

Huh. Well that explained the weird phone call.

“So these are the guys you met in Seoul?” Taehyung questions, and is off the couch, extending his hands with a welcoming grin. “Kim Taehyung. Lover. Anime expert. Great friend.”

“A nerd,” Jungkook pipes up. Jimin chuckles.

“Ignore him,” Taehyung says a little too loudly. “That’s my cousin. He’s an only child so he follows me around. I’m like his honorary big brother.”

“You love me,” Jungkook says.

“I have to,” Taehyung says back.

“Oh my God,” Seokjin coos, and immediately bounds over to the couch next to Jungkook. “Oh my God, he’s so cute!”

“He’s not cute,” Taehyung interjects. “He’s evil. Once he knows your insecurities he’ll use them against you and make your life miserable.

With Jungkook’s cheek between his fingers, Seokjin giggles. “I don’t have any insecurities.”

Jungkook, for the second time that day, sticks out his tongue at Taehyung.

Yoongi leads Namjoon and Hoseok father into the living room, offering them spots on either couch. It’s a little weird, having all of his friends together in the same room, but it’s nice.

“This is okay, right?” Yoongi asks, assuming his spot next to Jimin.

Jimin looks to Seokjin doting on Jungkook, Namjoon by their side and smiling to himself at the display, and to Taehung and Hoseok, who already conversing like they’ve been friends for years. “Of course it is,” Jimin answers. “The more people for Friendsmas, the better.” And then quickly pecks his lips.

“AWWWWWWW” Hoseok and Taehyung exclaim at the same.

Yoongi groans. “Seokie, not you too."

“I can’t help it! After listening to you pine for two years it’s refreshing to see you finally stopped being so emotionally constipated.”

“You had to listen to it, too?” Taehyung perks up. “Wasn’t it the worst?”

“The absolute worst,” Hoseok agreed. “Do you know how many times this guy would call me in the middle of the night because he was up thinking about Jimin? ‘What do you think he’s doing right now? I hope he’s not sad. Oh my God what if he’s sad right now? This is the worst, I should be there, not here. I hate my dad.’”

Yoongi groaned louder.

“And then I’d have to sit there and remind him that Jimin was probably asleep.”

“For the record, he wasn’t,” Taehyung adds. “And I know because I was getting the same kind of phone calls.”

Yoongi takes it back. Having them all in the same room wasn’t nice at all. “You guys are terrible,” he grumbles into Jimin’s chest.

“Oh relax, hyung. I’m just teasing.” he laughs it off, and then takes on a more serious tone. “But really, I’m glad for you. It’s nice to finally see you truly happy.”

Taehyung turns to Jimin. “It’s nice to see you happy, too, Jiminah,” he echoed Taehyung, putting his hands on his shoulders, and turning Jimin to him so he was looking him in the eyes. Jimin, sensing the change in demeanor, sits up straighter. “Especially...especially in that time after your accident, when you thought Yoongi would never love you back because you weren’t ‘whole’ anymore.”

Jimin inhales sharply, glancing back at Yoongi almost too quick for him to see and then turning back. Jimin never actually told him that, but he figured as much. From behind, he envelopes his arms around the younger’s torso, and lays his head on his shoulder. He feels Jimin relax into him pressing his back up against his chest, sharing body heat.

“And I’m glad that you had nothing to worry about after all. I’m glad you got your happy ending.”

Yoongi feels Jimin start to shake in his arms, and he lifts his head to see Jimin has tears on his face. He’s biting his lip, and looking at Taehyung with so much adoration it makes Yoongi’s chest swell. From behind, he presses a tender kiss to his soft, plump cheek.

He’s glad they got their happy ending, too.

-

With Mr. And Mrs. Park’s permission, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok end up staying the night as well. They’re all passed out on a pile of blankets and pillows in the living room. Well, everyone except Yoongi is. Yoongi lays awake, staring at the ceiling reflect the fairy lights on the ceiling.

He’s thinking about nothing but also about everything. From when he and Jimin were young, and how they met on that fateful day on the swing set, how Jimin broke down the walls he had built up as a defense mechanism from growing up in the kind of environment that he did. He smiles thinking of that small, chubby kid that made him fall off a swing set that somehow became his best friend. He still doesn’t know why Jimin approached him that day, but he’s glad he did.

From behind him, Yoongi hears someone shift. He holds his breath and goes still, just in case it was Jimin, but then he remembered that he decided it would be best for him to sleep on the couch, and that was where he lay still, snuggled up in a bunch of blankets.

From his spot on the floor, Yoongi slowly turns his head to see Hoseok on his feet, sleepily dragging his feet towards the kitchen. Being careful not to wake him, he gets up and follows him. Hoseok doesn’t even flinch when Yoongi enters the kitchen. In fact, he chuckles.

“I guess I should say I’m surprised you’re still up, but I’m not,” he teases, grabbing a cup from the cupboard and filling it with water at the sink.

“Old habits die hard,” Yoongi responds. And then it’s quiet. Not an awkward silence, but comforting, two friends simply enjoying each others presence. Yoongi eventually follows Hoseok’s lead, and grabs a cup of water himself, halfway through it when Hoseok speaks up again.

“I meant what I said, you know. About seeing you happy. I really mean that.”

Yoongi nods considerably. “What do you think about him, by the way? Now that you’ve met him,” he asks, taking another drink.

Hoseok tilts his head back. “I like him. In a totally not gay way, I’d bang.”

Yoongi spits his drink.

“Oh my ing-” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Who even are you?”

Hoseok, in between fits of laughter, extends his hand. “Jung Hoseok. boy Extraordinaire.”

“For s sake, he’s an amputee.”

“And? That doesn’t mean he can’t have . Or doesn’t want to.”

Yoongi’s ears go spectacularly red, and Hoseok, the bastard, slowly gives him a patronizing smile.

“You’ve never thought about it, have you.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer. Not because he hasn’t thought about it.

But because he has.

Once.

He gets embarrassed thinking about it.

“Well, regardless, try not to stew on that and get some sleep, will you,” Hoseok playfully shoves him and exits, leaving a red faced embarrassed Yoongi in the kitchen by himself.

-

They all awake to a very loud, very bad rendition of All I Want for Christmas is You by Mr. and Mrs. Park.

Breakfast is on the table already, western style, with pancakes that were sweet and eggs that look like they were chopped up too many times with vegetables in them. It still looked delicious though, despite that, and danced on his tongue all throughout the morning hours.

During noon, it was time to open presents. Well, one present. Can’t spoil everything on Christmas Eve.

Taehyung got the video game version of some anime Yoongi can’t remember the name of, and ran around the entire living room screaming.

Next was Jungkook, who wasn’t too happy about his dog collar, courtesy of Taehyung. They all laughed at him anyway.

Namjoon and Seokjin had already exchanged their one gift to each other, so next was Hoseok to Yoongi, who as it turns out, wanted his address so he could hand deliver it himself. Yoongi carefully pulls off the packaging, and when he opens it, his entire body goes warm.

It was a journal, hardback with blank pages, but on the cover in printed calligraphy was a quote. His quote, something he said to Hoseok long ago.

‘It’s just something about being alone with my own thoughts that makes it so much simpler…”

There’s also a pen set, in different designs and little inscriptions on them that say “Property of Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi looks up at Hoseok with watery eyes, who simply shrugs and says, “You needed a new journal, anyway.”

Jimin was the last one to go. He sat on the couch as his parents went over to the Christmas tree, grabbing the big box that takes both of them to carry. There’s no grand introduction, or build up. The box is simply placed in front of him. Jimin eyes the box, alternating his gaze from it and his parents, who look like they want to jump over to him and open the box for him. Yoongi’s curious himself. He’s been sneaking glances at it since yesterday.

His parents gasp in unison at the first tear of the wrapping paper. At the second tear, they both lean forward, anxiously awaiting Jimin’s reaction and at the third, their eyes widen. The rest of the wrapping paper falls off at the fourth tear, crumpling around the box on the floor.

The tears in Jimin’s eyes are instantaneous. His red face is hidden behind his hands, but the sounds he makes ring loudly throughout the living room. Yoongi has ears in his eyes too, and when he looks around he sees so does everyone else. Hoseok, as Yoongi expected, is bawling like a baby, Taehyung is sniffling into his sleeve, Namjoon and Seokjin are crying on each other, and even Jungkook had a few tears on his cheeks.

Jimi wordlessly holds his arms out, unable to get up and hug his parents himself so they go to him, hugging him tightly at the same time.

“You have no idea how relieved I was when you said you were sure you didn’t want a prosthetic last night, because as you can probably guess, this wasn’t cheap,” Mrs. Park laughed through her tears. Jimin smiles as much as he can, and runs his fingers along the box containing his brand new remote controlled wheelchair.

“You wanna try it out?” Mr. Park asks.

“Are you kidding? Of course I do!” Jimin replies, opening the box from the top. Mr. Park has a cardboard cutter already in hand, finishing off the job and helping his son into it afterwards.

Jimin eyes the controls with wonder, and like a baby seeing something new for the first time, curiously reaches out for the lever. His thumb rubs on the button on top before pressing down on it, and carefully pushes the lever forward.

It doesn’t take him long before he’s gotten the hang of it, and he’s zipping and zooming all around the living room, laughing as if he were riding a roller coaster.

“This is so awesome. I never have to wear those stupid gloves ever again.”

Yoongi lets out a quiet chuckle. Jimin hears it, though, and from where he is across the room they lock eyes, and share a smile.

No words are said. But they hear each other loud and clear.

-

It’s later, well into the afternoon, and Jimin and Yoongi have retired to the younger’s room. Hoseok has already gone to stay with his family on the other side of the city, and Namjoon and Seokjin have caught the next train back home. Taehyung and Jungkook were at home with their families, so now it was just Jimin and Yoongi. Yoongi and Jimin. Just like before.

“Today was a really good day,” Jimin sighs into Yoongi’s chest, bunching the covers around them even more.

“It was a good day. You might have actually succeeded in making me like Christmas.”

Jimin pops his head up. “Really?”

“A little,” Yoongi giggles.

Jimin smiles contently, his eyes turning into slits. “Good,” he says, “I’m glad.” His head drops back to the elder’s chest. “I really like Hoseok hyung, too. He’s funny.”

Yoongi thinks back to their brief conversation in the kitchen last night. “Hoseok is…a character.”

“He’s a good guy. Namjoon hyung and Seokjin hyung, too. They’re all really good people.”

“They are, some of the best I’ve ever met. But they still don’t compare to you,” he adds cheekily.

“Gross,” Jimin mumbles, but Yoongi can tell he doesn’t actually mean it. “Hey, remember when Friendsmas was just the two of us?”

“Yeah, it was quieter.”

Jimin playfully shoves him. “That’s all you remember?”

Yoongi cards his hands through Jimins hair. “No, that’s not all. I also remember you doting on me constantly, even when I said I was fine.”

“Because I knew you weren’t.”

Yoongi stays quiet at that, gazing up at the ceiling before looking back down at Jimin. Slowly, he opens his mouth.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“...Why did you approach me that day?”

Jimin lifts his head again. “What day?”

“That day on the swing set. Why did you come up to me?”

Jimin adjusts himself under the covers so his elbows are on Yoongi’s chest. His face is close to Yoongi’s, too close, and he almost can’t concentrate when Jimin opens his mouth and whispers “I used to watch you play by yourself. And I remember how you always looked so sad when you watched the other kids, like you wanted to join but couldn’t somehow. And I just wanted to see you smile.”

Yoongi blinks. Jimin is too close, his plush lips are too close to his, his body is too close to his, everything’s too close.

He can’t help himself when he surges forward, capturing his lips with his. He can’t help it when he flips them over, straddling Jimin’s hips. He can’t help it when he pokes his tongue out, running it over Jimin’s bottom lip asking for access that the younger eagerly grants him. And he can’t help but groan when Jimin’s arms wrap around him and pull him even closer.

They kiss for who knows how long, but Yoongi knows he’s getting worked up. His hands become lose, too independent when they run down Jimin’s sides and under his shirt, feeling the hard muscle now hidden by a thin layer of fat, and his hips develop a mind of their own, grinding down without much of his say so.

Jimin squeaks. “Wait, wait, I-I’m not-”

“, , I’m sorry,” Yoongi panics. “Too much?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Not-not too much but-but anything more than this-”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand,” Yoongi whispers against his lips, pressing his own against them again, tentatively this time, to make sure he doesn’t scare him. For the duration of the time Yoongi’s still there, they only kiss. Jimin’s mouth is warm, and tastes like sugar cookies, sweet and buttery.

He doesn’t want to let go, he doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he has to when his mom comes by to pick him up. They exchange goodbyes, and Yoongi’s on his way out the door, but not before glancing back at Jimin one more time.

And Yoongi’s 8 years old again, staring at the 6 year old boy he met on a swing set.