“Mingyu, one more time the ball hits my fa-”

 

And then Wonwoo is stripped bare out of his rights to even construct a proper insult because the damn cold is numbing his face, thanks to the bigger-than-normal snowball that just hit him somewhere in between the nose and forehead. Wonwoo is thankful, so very thankful, that he’s ditched his glasses today because he has no time to pay heed to his fogging glasses in the minus temperature when he’s busy plotting ways to kill his best friend.

 

“I’m sorry, Hyung,” Mingyu squawks in between a giggle.

 

“Oh that’s it, ” Wonwoo bursts.

 

“No!” Mingyu breaks into a sprint.

 

“ you Mingyu, come back here!”

 

“Hyung, stop cursing! The little boy from next door will get influenced,” Mingyu screeches, arms flailing about in the midst of running.

 

The two of them continue to run around the expanse of Jeonghan’s backyard, throwing snowballs at each other and slipping on frozen ice. The neighbouring aunt gives them weird, judgmental stares, because seeing a couple of overgrown university students slipping on snow isn’t a norm. But age be damned, Wonwoo figures, because he’s allowed to have fun despite his age, and more importantly, now he’s a man on a mission, and he’s out to kill a certain Kim Mingyu – preferably with hypothermia.

 

He magically sneaks up behind a tree, like the snow fairy he deludes himself to be, and scoops whatever snow he finds at his feet to aim at Mingyu. But then he thinks, wouldn’t it be better to agonize the tall tree even more? So he concludes a plan with a wicked grin, and takes easy steps on his tiptoes to reach Mingyu.

 

Mingyu is too busy hiding behind his snow fort, cowering his entire six foot under a three foot wall, eyes darting left and right in search for his best friend. Earlier when Wonwoo caught sight of Mingyu’s fort, he labelled it lame and unsuitable for grown men – but Mingyu knows his Hyung is just jealous. Wonwoo’s snow fort was pathetic compared to Mingyu’s – just a mound of snow desperately pushed together to work as some sort of cover as its owner scavenges out for the enemy.

 

Wonwoo is now close – so very close, that he’s capable of ignoring his numb fingertips in order to inflict physical pain to the enemy perched right in front of him, and he barely gives a second of thought before he lunges forward, pulls at the waistband of Mingyu’s jeans and stuffs a handful of snow into his pants.

 

Mingyu lets out a howl, hands coming to land on his crotch and backside because the cold ing hurts. He’s reduced to a pile of tears, melted snow, and boy by the time Wonwoo is done laughing. “My balls are freezing,” he whimpers, lying on the snow.

 

Wonwoo pokes out his tongue, dusting a gloved hand triumphantly. “You deserve it, you ugly raccoon.”

 

Later, when Wonwoo accidentally slips on ice again and lands on Mingyu’s snow fort, successfully destroying the majestic thing, the boys conclude it’s safer to retreat back into Jeonghan’s place.

 

“You know, if Jeonghan Hyung was here, he’d get a fit looking at the mess we’re making in his house right now,” Wonwoo comments, slipping out of his beanie to shake the snow out and tossing his shoes aside. Mingyu is slower with his steps, taking care of arranging the shoes by the door and locking the door properly before he enters the house.

 

“I wouldn’t specifically call it a mess, per se. It’s just some snow turned into water.”

 

“Yeah, and we’re responsible to clean it up.”

 

“Well, Jeonghan Hyung should’ve thought better than to let the two of us in charge of house-sitting,” Mingyu concludes.

 

“Fair point.” Wonwoo jumps onto the couch, laying himself lazily and reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. Some Christmas songs blares through the house, in courtesy of that, and Mingyu dances himself awkwardly from the hallway into the living room in his hilariously soaked pants.

 

“I’m gonna go change myself out of this,” he points at his clothes. “Do you want to make some food? I’m hungry.”

 

“Yeah, come fast and make me some hot drinks,” Wonwoo replies, tapping on his phone.

 

“Stop exploiting me for my culinary skills,” Mingyu rolls his eyes. He shimmies his way out to the beat, like a pro, and Wonwoo only stares.

 

When he gets back in fresh clothes, warm and cozy in the moderately-temperatured house, Wonwoo is still lying in the same awkward position he was before, a leg sprawled onto the armrest and body twisted weirdly with half his head on the floor.

 

“Hyung, what do you wanna eat?”

 

Wonwoo tosses his phone and gets up. From the kitchen, Mingyu can hear his bones cracking, but he’s unsure if he’s mistaken it for the creak of Jeonghan’s sofa. “I don’t know, I just want something to drink.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s time for dinner.” Wonwoo stands up from the floor (prior to falling off the couch from trying to get up earlier), and sees Mingyu roll his eyes. The taller is perched at the kitchen aisle, leaning boredly in his loose sweater and a sweatpants, Wonwoo assumes, although the bottom half is obscured from Wonwoo’s view.

 

He grabs at his glasses and trots his way into the kitchen, though Mingyu would like to argue that he’s basically sliding through the floors like a child, purple kitten printed socks gliding through the smooth floors. Wonwoo figures there’s no point in denying Mingyu’s statements, and does an obvious twirl on his way to the kitchen, before placing himself next to the taller. Mingyu stares at him unamused.

 

“That’s some weak skills right there, Hyung,” he deadpans.

 

“Don’t be salty, nasty.”

 

“Whatever you say, Hyung,” Mingyu rolls his eyes.

 

“Hey, is that my beanie you’re wearing?” Wonwoo asks Mingyu – now that he has his glasses on, he doesn’t have to squint like a blind fool – eyeing the grey beanie Mingyu has pulled onto his head, an obnoxious red pom pom sitting on the top of his head like a cherry on a banana split.

 

“Yes, yes it is.”

 

They both stare at each other for a while, wondering what they would do with this information. Wonwoo would be a liar, if he says he doesn’t find Mingyu really cute in his beanie. He also deduces that this thought is not going to do him any good. “Well, okay then,” Wonwoo shifts his gaze.

 

“I’m gonna make us something to drink while you figure out what you want to eat.”

 

“Just make some chicken nuggets,” Wonwoo says, hopping onto the counter. He sits there patiently, eyes lazily following Mingyu as he brews some coffee and adds hot chocolate powder into it.

 

“Hyung, help me find some candy canes,” Mingyu orders distractedly, pouring coffee into the two mugs he has set out. Wonwoo barely has to stretch his limb out to reach out at the jar of candy canes Jeonghan has set in the middle of the counter and pass it to Mingyu. Mingyu blinks. “Well that was easy.”

 

He unwraps the candy canes and uses them instead to stir the coffee and hot chocolate mixture. Wonwoo has no idea what he’s doing, neither does he think its edible, until Mingyu adds a handful of marshmallows into the mug, the candy cane still perched into the mug. Well, at least now it has to be somewhat edible.

 

“Done!” Mingyu grins, handing Wonwoo the mug with a green reindeer on it. Mingyu’s has a Santa Claus and snow on it.

 

“I have no idea what the did you just make, but I hope I won’t die drinking it,” Wonwoo eyes the drink with a frown.

 

“Have some faith in me, please,” Mingyu rolls his eyes again. Wonwoo wonders when the younger started taking on his behaviour, since between the two of them, Wonwoo is supposed to be the sarcastic one. “It’s supposed to be a rendition of peppermint mocha. The candy canes are supposed to work as the mint,” he smiles.

 

Wonwoo takes a cautious sip and figures Mingyu has the hands of an angel because anything he makes turns out good. It’s kind of ing unfair, because Wonwoo can try to defrost a bagel and still manage to burn it somehow.

 

“This is good. Really nice,” he smacks his lips together.

 

Mingyu pokes out his canines. “I read the recipe somewhere in a storybook once.”

 

Later, Mingyu does make chicken nuggets, and he also makes an addition of mushroom soup – though it came out of a box, but semantics. They both enjoy the simple meal (Wonwoo gobbles down fifteen nuggets,) in front of the TV, fighting for the remote because Mingyu wants to watch Home Alone 2, but Wonwoo rather wants cheesy Christmas re-runs on Hallmark.

 

“You need to stop watching these,” Mingyu says.

 

“They’re cute, okay?”

 

“They’re girly. My little sister watches this, Wonwoo Hyung.”

 

“Because she understands Christmas romance.”

 

“This isn’t romance, this is magical delusion.”

 

“Gee, when did the Santa turn into a Grinch?” Wonwoo frowns at the younger.

 

“Gee, when did the Grinch turn into an Elf?” Mingyu teases back.

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and snuggles closer to Mingyu. “A long damn time ago. Now stop judging me or I’ll choke you with this popcorn.”

 

They do settle with a Hallmark movie, and then with Mingyu’s favourite Home Alone 2, and a Hallmark movie again. By the time Christmas Eve rolls, Wonwoo finds himself yawning, and he turns to his left to see Mingyu’s eye half focusing on the TV. He kicks at Mingyu’s thigh to wake him up. “Hey, get up. It’s almost two in the morning already.”

 

Mingyu fumbles around blearily before he stretches off the couch, yawning alongside Wonwoo. “I’ll clean the kitchen first then. Help me take out the trash?”

 

“Mmhm, okay,” he mutters distractedly. Jeonghan’s supposed to be back around early morning today. This means they have around a couple of hours to fix whatever mess they’ve made around the house before getting the extra Christmas money Jeonghan promised to give them. Wonwoo sighs, then dusts the popcorn crumbs lefts around the living room, sighs again, and retreats to the kitchen. The things they do for money.

 

“Tie up the trash and throw them outside, Hyung,” Mingyu tells.

 

His bones are too lazy to comply to Wonwoo trying out any exercise in the wee hours – and by exercise he means to crouch and bend under the counter to clear the trash bin – but he has no choice because he’s been useless almost all day, and he has to be of use somewhat besides helping to create a holiday mood in the house.

 

He groans as he pushes open the back door because one, he’s still lazy and two, the cold air from outside hits him in the face and Wonwoo realizes he’s not dressed for this. He plans to sprint out real quick and getting back under the blankets, but Mingyu, as always, ruins whatever great things Wonwoo comes up with.

 

“Wonwoo Hyung, I need to throw this out too!” Mingyu shouts just as Wonwoo is back at the door. Mingyu waits for him at the door frame with another plastic of garbage dangling from his fingers.

 

“Why couldn’t you have given me it earlier,” Wonwoo whines, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket for warmth. Mingyu is a ruiner – of Wonwoo’s dreams, hopes, and needs, and right now all Wonwoo needs is to get back inside and snuggle into the couch.

 

“Come on, Hyung, just help me throw this one out,” Mingyu pouts.

 

“No, you go do it.” He deadpans.

 

“Don’t be a brat, Hyung.” Mingyu rolls his eyes.

 

“But nooo,” Wonwoo whines at the younger. He’s in the middle of starting a tantrum when he tilts his head upwards and accidentally catches sight of it. It dangles beneath the door frame, looking fresh and green, and it’s superglued to the wooden frame with a tape on top to ensure it stays steady in its position without falling off – it is a mistletoe.

 

Wonwoo doesn’t want Mingyu to catch sight of it, no he doesn’t, because Mingyu is definitely one for traditions and hates breaking any of it – and the pivotal problem here, at two seventeen in the morning in the cold Christmas air in the city, is that both Mingyu and Wonwoo are standing right under the small mistletoe together. His breath hitches a little.

 

Mingyu notices this of course. He sees how Wonwoo grows quiet out of a sudden and finds his own eyesight trailing above their heads, at what Wonwoo’s looking at. He inhales softly when he too, sees it, his breath sounding a little too noisy in the quiet night.

 

He looks back down at Wonwoo, and sees how the latter is still staring at the mistletoe wide-eyed. Wonwoo stands there, hands stuffed in his pocket, and hood pulled up on his head, tied securely with the drawstrings. His eyes, Mingyu can see, twinkle in both wonderment and fear, like a bright star in the dim almost-Christmas night – and Mingyu can’t help but softly smile at this, because his Hyung, no matter at the wild age of twenty, still looks so young in the middle of the night, standing close to Mingyu’s own body, unknowingly trying to steal some body heat.

 

Mingyu thinks Wonwoo is a little too cute. And this, he would reason would be the sole reason he reaches down to cup his Hyung’s cheeks, before landing his plush lips onto Wonwoo’s. His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see how Wonwoo’s eyes widen when their lips collide – but what he does know is that Wonwoo’s cheeks are hot under his palms, and that his lips are soft under his own, and this – really feels very nice. It feels as if Christmas came a day early. He smiles into their kiss, and feels how Wonwoo reaches a hand out of his pocket to hold at the soft maroon fabric of Mingyu’s sweater to steady himself.

 

When the kiss breaks off, Mingyu is left smiling, Wonwoo is left baffled, and the garbage bag, poor thing, is left like an unwanted trash by their feet.

 

An hour and forty-three minutes later, Jeonghan bursts into the house with some company he’s brought home, and he cheers – “Merry ing Christmas boys! Guess who’s back home?”

 

 

 

 

“Well, you look awful for someone who’s supposed to be in a Christmas-themed coffee house on Christmas Day,” Jeonghan says.

 

“Don’t ing test me,” Wonwoo hisses, though it comes out like a whimper because he has a headache, and it’s not something he really wants to welcome on Christmas morning.

 

“Alright there buddy, I’m going to get you some hot chocolate because I’m a damn nice person, and you’re going to tell me why you called me first thing in the morning when I could be scavenging for presents under my Christmas tree instead.” When Jeonghan returns with a promising cup of something hot, Wonwoo pulls the drink to his chest to further warm the burning in his chest.

 

“First of all, I want to know why you had a mistletoe ing strapped to your back door.” Wonwoo deadpans.

 

Jeonghan blinks. “My mistletoe? What’s wrong with my mistletoe?” He pouts.

 

“ Everything, is wrong with your mistletoe. It’s the cause of all this problem,” Wonwoo says sharply.

 

“You need to tell me what happened clearly, for me to help you out with whatever you need help with,” Jeonghan concludes, sipping on his suspiciously half-green and half-chocolate coloured frappucino.

 

“Your mistletoe, Jeonghan Hyung, saw Mingyu and I underneath it,” Wonwoo replies monotonely. The reply effectively makes Jeonghan choke on his drink, and Wonwoo – the poor thing with eye bags on Christmas morning, thinks Jeonghan deserves it.

 

“Holy , Merry ing Christmas,” Jeonghan says, the only appropriate thing he can figure as a reply. “The both of you kissed?” Jeonghan questions, and Wonwoo can feel the numerous question marks attached to the question.

 

Wonwoo covers his eyes with the sweater paw he has. It’s ten a.m on a Christmas day, and according to the activities he has written in his non-existent planner, he’s supposed to be at their place as per their usual tradition, eating breakfast at home and exchanging cheap but memorable gifts with each other. He’s not supposed to escape the confines of Mingyu and Wonwoo’s shared house at eight thirteen in the morning, stumbling to pull his sneakers on without waking Mingyu up, and sit in a café with Jeonghan.

 

He’s just so tired and annoyed and confused and a little happy that he kissed his homoual best friend because Wonwoo is a little gay for him too, but he’s also a little scared. He sighs. “Yeah, we kissed.”

 

“How was it?”

 

“Hyung, that’s not the ing point right now,” Wonwoo whines.

 

“Well, it has to be. Wonwoo, if you don’t think I can see the distraught in your face because you’re a dumb idiot who doesn’t know what to do, then I must look like an awful Hyung.”

 

“I don’t know what to do,” he pouts into his drink.

 

“For starters, you can tell me if it felt nice,” Jeonghan says. “Additional details aside though. Please don’t tell me you had in my house,” he adds hastily.”

 

“You , Hyung.”

 

“And you swallow.” Jeonghan grins at the horror and distaste written on Wonwoo’s face. “Now tell, from a scale of one to ten.”

 

Wonwoo sighs. “Nine point nine five.”

 

“That’s pretty solid.”

 

“Mingyu’s pretty solid,” Wonwoo states distractedly, stirring his hot chocolate. It takes him exactly seventeen seconds to realize what he’s said, and by the time he can look up at Jeonghan wide-eyed to take his words back, he knows it’s too late. Jeonghan smirks at him, eyes turned into slits, and Wonwoo knows nothing can be good about it.

 

“Well,” Jeonghan starts.

 

“ Don’t.” Wonwoo stops him. “Just – don’t.”

 

Jeonghan sighs. “Wonwoo, it’s not as hard as you make it seem. He kissed you first didn’t he?”

 

“That doesn’t prove anything,” he retaliates.

 

“Yes it does,” Jeonghan fights back. “He wouldn’t have just made the first move if he didn’t want it, Wonwoo.”

 

“Hyung, you know he follows Christmas rules.”

 

“And I don’t think he’s shallow or heartless enough to follow it if it supposedly hurts someone else.” The older points out.

 

Well, Jeonghan does have a point there. Mingyu would’ve never deliberately done something even after knowing it’ll do Wonwoo bad – though now, Wonwoo is confused yet again.

 

“So what you’re telling me, is that Mingyu did that on purpose,” he asks quietly.

 

“Probably. Yes. That doesn’t really matter. Mingyu could’ve done it on a whim and still mean it. Just because it happened in the heat of the moment doesn’t make it not real.”

 

Wonwoo stares at him. “, when did you get so wise, Hyung?”

 

Jeonghan sips at his drink with a triumphant grin. “Well, you can call me your Christmas miracle.”

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, reaching for his cup, now warm rather than hot. “Of course you are.”

 

“You should talk to him.”

 

His phone is on the table, and with the most recent buzz, the screen is lit, and the notification reads two missed calls and three texts from Mingyu. Jeonghan eyes at him pointedly.

 

“I guess you might be right,” Wonwoo sighs.

 

Jeonghan grins. “That’s my boy.”

 

This makes Wonwoo stretch out of the chair, limbs filled with nervous energy as he walks to the order counter. Jeonghan follows him dutifully, like the good friend he is, to tease Wonwoo.

 

“One peppermint mocha please,” he requests at the counter nervously.

 

“For Mingyu?” Jeonghan asks from the side. Wonwoo only nods.

 

The cashier smiles at him brightly. “Merry Christmas! Do you want whipped cream and green sprinkles on top too?”

 

“Yes, please.” Wonwoo takes his wallet out of his back pocket. “Actually, can you add caramel into it? And vanilla? Add hazelnut in it too. Thank you.” He chucks a twenty at the girl staring at him. She still rings up his order though.

 

“Woah, what’re you doing? Trying to get major diabetes?” Jeonghan asks alarmed.

 

“Sure, if adding more sweet to Mingyu’s drink would hopefully help make Mingyu die earlier so I don’t have to face him embarrassedly, then why not. Why not, Hyung? Right?” He grins at Jeonghan tiredly, a hint of deliriousness and anxiety mixed into it. It makes Jeonghan a little worried, but the older is used to all sorts of crazy among his friends.

 

“Well, at least the mistletoe worked for you,” Jeonghan murmurs, thinking of how the mistletoe was meant to set him and his housemate up for a kiss.

 

 

 

 

When Wonwoo reaches their door, he carefully sets the drink he’s bought for Mingyu in a space he wouldn’t accidentally topple it over before reaching into his pocket to take it all out. It is a roll of mini scotch tape, a pair of scissors, and a fresh mistletoe – all courtesy to Jeonghan. Well, Merry ing Christmas.

 

He has to tip toe a little, to carefully stick the mistletoe to their doorframe with shaky hands, before he puts the scissors and tape back into his coat pocket, and pick the hot drink back into his hand. The sweet drink in his hand is more warm than hot. The whipped cream on top looks sadly melted, but the green sprinkles still stand out vibrantly against the snow-like cream. He hopes Mingyu will die from diabetes.

 

He knocks on the door.

 

It takes a few seconds for Wonwoo’s heart to beat loudly and for the sound of feet shuffling from inside to stop.

 

“Wonwoo Hyung?” Mingyu frowns down at him when he swings the door open. The younger has a reindeer headband perched on his head, an accessory he probably donned on in hopes of waking Wonwoo up to an amusing sight in the morning. Now he kind of feels bad that he ditched Mingyu alone on Christmas morning.

 

He chucks the drink into Mingyu hastily and whispers, “Merry Christmas.”

 

“Wait, what?” he asks confused, looking at Wonwoo. “Hyung, you ditched breakfast this morning. I was waiting up for you, you know.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says guiltily.

 

“Care to explain it then, Hyung?” Mingyu sulks.

 

“Look up,” Wonwoo says. And he only gives Mingyu enough time to tilt his head up and catch sight of the mistletoe, his lips parting in awe – before Wonwoo scoops his face into his hands and presses a chaste kiss onto Mingyu’s lips. When he’s done with the bare-seconds of peck he’s given to Mingyu, he lowers his hands and takes a step back.

 

Mingyu looks a little red in the face, the same colour as the sweater Wonwoo is wearing, and the reindeer headband he has on his own head. Though, Mingyu, has a small smile on his face. “Hyung?” he questions.

 

Wonwoo clears his throat. “You see, the art of Christmas, is gifting the things you’ve gotten back to their respective owners if it’s applicable so, there you go. Just, returning a gift,” Wonwoo babbles softly.

 

“God, you’re cute,” Mingyu whispers – and it is also, the only warning he gives before he pulls Wonwoo closer again to kiss him senseless at their doorway, one of his hand still busy clutching at the drink his visitor had brought him. They kiss a little long, like it’s the sweet breakfast they deserve of a bright Christmas morning, amongst minty lips and sweet breaths. Mingyu doesn’t let Wonwoo go, pressing kisses over kisses into Wonwoo’s mouth, tasting something like hot chocolate and Christmas miracles on his lips.

 

While he sets a final peck on Wonwoo’s mouth, the latter’s lips a cherry red, Mingyu says – “Say, Hyung, I’ve never heard of such rule for Christmas.”

 

Wonwoo holds Mingyu’s face in his hands. “Well, you can call it a Christmas miracle, then?”

 

Mingyu laughs into Wonwoo’s cheek. “Did you have to tip toe to get that mistletoe there, Hyung?”

 

“Quit teasing me, you brat,” Wonwoo scolds. “You should appreciate the things your Hyung does for you.”

 

“Well, Christmas does seem pretty sweet this year,” Mingyu smiles at him, his canines poking out brightly in between his red lips.

 

“Merry ing Christmas,” Wonwoo whispers against Mingyu’s lips.

 

Mingyu laughs brightly into his mouth. “Merry Christmas, Wonwoo Hyung. Let’s go finish that breakfast you ditched me from.”