A Week Before Christmas Day

Seoyun despises the mere act of a ‘good-bye.’ To her, it means walking away from what she has come to love— even if she knows she will eventually say ‘hello’ again. It’s simply the thought of the in-between that drives her nearly mad. 

Despite that though, she finds a chuckle escaping her lips and a final wave coming from her raised hand to bid her best friend (who was currently leaning half-way out of her red Toyota to blow her an airy kiss and yell out a heartfelt call me tomorrow!) one of those good-bye’s. She watches her pull away from her driveway and waits for the resonating pang of loneliness to strike in her chest— she always seems to experience this when the two separate. Yet, Seoyun is shocked still when the ingrained claws of anxiety in fact never come. Some feelings are hard to stop remembering, she thinks, taking a grounding breath.

It feels silly, pathetic almost, that she could somehow be caught by the immense sensation of what the past once was, and yet, not by the past itself. The process of healing and the passage of time are ironic twins, you can struggle and struggle to do things your way, but nothing erases quite as well as time. Though, being around her best friend is like tripping the electrical switch of suppressed memories, forcing her right back to when they spent most of their time together— she can still feel the echoes of panicked ‘good-byes’ and reluctant glances. It was a time that left Seoyun achy from overthinking and bruised from words that never should have left the mouths of those she thought she could trust. 

Seoyun once was made to recite that the wise believe that forgiving does not mean forgetting, but she doesn’t want to hold on anymore, forgiving and not forgetting is a cruel expression and she would give anything at this point to forget. Of course, though, that therapist also believed in sunbathing for depression relief and taking a nap when faced with anxiety. If she could sunbath to rid herself of degrading thoughts, Seoyun thinks she would be “cured” years ago. Either way, she’s learned to move on, because unlike then, when she was living in the pain of her memory, she has a future now and it happens to be one barren of good-bye’s. 

She slips out a sigh in mild defeat of the uphill she still has to climb, but lets a secret smile find home on her face because regardless, she's been climbing for a while and that in itself is enough for her. She takes in the view of her forever home: the painted mailbox dripping with snow, the messy strings of lights basking the windows in the perfect kind of home-y warmth, his collection of mismatched bird houses hanging delicately from the trees— she decides to fill her mind with memories of this instead. It wasn't the biggest home in the world, nor was it magazine fancy, but it was comfortable in the best way and maybe more importantly, Seoyun didn't have to share it alone— mentally or physically.

A small window sits amongst the bricked wall, giving a beautiful view of the fading sun to the inside inhabitants, and to her, a view she imagines she’ll never tire of. He seemed to be looking for something, his hands perched on his wide hips and his head tilted into a slightly confused grimace. She thought he looked the best like this, unworried and unknowing of her watching eyes. He ran a hand through his thick silver hair, making the tendrils stick up in a mop-like configuration that had her hands tingling to fix it. His gaze moved through the kitchen and languidly out the window, finally coming to land on her.

Seoyun watched with a content beat to her heart as his eyes lit up in surprise, his hand falling from his hair and his mouth ajarring just enough for her to want to . After a moment, his lips began to tug up into a brilliant smile— the one that seemed contagious and would soon transfer to her own lips if she wasn’t careful, which she never was with him. 

He beckoned her towards the house, but Seoyun stood for a few more moments. She has a list of lessons to mind that she and Chanyeol came up with in the years they have been together. Admire the little and big things. This seemed like a big thing.

Seoyun made her way towards the house after she was satisfied, finding the door handle already unlocked for her. She unraveled her thick wool scarf (actually it was his that she stole from his side of the closet this morning) and hung her jacket onto the rack beside the door. She thought the house smelled divine, like sweet vanilla and rich milk chocolate.

“Seo…” His voice echoed through the kitchen and bounced around in her mind. His voice always reminded her of the crackling of a fire, or a warmth that was uniquely his. Her feet made the decision to follow this warmth without first checking in with her— not that she would have denied such a request. “Do you know where I last put the key to the shed? I’m pretty sure the decorations are in there, but I can’t seem to remember where we placed it last.” 

Seoyun could hear the casual pout in his voice before she even turned the corner and took in his furrowed eyebrows as he rummaged the junk drawers next to the sink. The kitchen was a mess, storage baskets littered amongst the counter and random keys set out as if he had tried them all without success. She successfully hid her increasingly amused chuckle behind the soft material of her sweater, remembering their latest bickering about how he loses everything and him retorting that he only puts them in a safe spot, a too safe spot.  

He turned in question, his eyes turning to silvers at finding her infamous I told you so face fully on display for him to bake in. Seoyun thinks their relationship is framed around him getting into some kind of predicament and her having to come in and save the day, but then again, she also feels that he is the best at saving her. Once, there might have been a time she would not dare laugh at his downfalls— big or small, serious or joking— but there’s this certain kind of safety he radiates around her, even when he’s angry and frustrated with her, that she understands is his special way of saying that he cares. She thinks that no one else wears the look of comfort better than him. 

“What?” He asked, an air of playfulness alighting in his eyes as he gradually let go of his irritation. He slowly reached out and pushed the drawer closed, a hand perching on his hip. “Ohh,” he dragged out in her silence, “you think this is funny, huh? Clumsy boyfriend, always losing everything.” 

She nodded her head easily, and as his tongue poked through the soft side of his cheek, she knew she was about to get it. This didn’t stop her from egging him on however. “Clumsy boyfriend, not good for anything.” 

He shook his head and her eyes grew as she followed his calculated footsteps towards her. She in her breath as his large grip rounded her waist and ever so delicately backed her into the front of the refrigerator. His other hands came up to cup her cheek, the back of his thumb rubbing a soothing pattern on her velvety skin. 

She could feel through his touch how patient he was, how each finger held an infinite amount of love for her. He liked to show himself like that, she knew. He liked to wrap her in his affection and tuck her away into the better things of life. Maybe it was this that made her give in so easily to him; he wanted her love almost as badly as she needed it— even if she didn’t know that at first. 

“I’m good for this, aren’t I?” He teased, his eyes flickering down to her already parted lips with an endearing gaze. 

Something bubbled up in need at his statement, need for him to be closer, need for her to keep him by her side, but she also wanted to savor this moment. “I told you that you’d forget where the keys are,” she said in an effort to ignore his previous statement. Though, his lips were beginning to distract her as they tugged up on the corners, coming impossibly close in collision to her own. 

A deep chuckle emerged from his chest that she could feel radiating through him and into her, his laugh was simply like that. “What am I going to do about you always calling me out?” He mumbled more to himself than her, his eyes flickering down like baby candles to her already slightly parted lips. Seoyun simply hummed in defeat, giving in to her wants to . She felt as her head tilted up in response towards him, her heels beginning to slowly inch so the two of them may finally meet— like two stars shooting together. 

She held her breath as his lips finally molded against hers, and although it had only been a few hours since they last shared an embrace as such, it felt as if she had waited centuries. Chanyeol too, must have felt the same longing as her, his head turning down to deepen the kiss and his tongue jotting out to run effortlessly against her own. 

They leaned in together, savoring one another in a manner she thought was only unique to them. He tasted of sweetened candy and a raw type of enticement that she has come to associate as purely Chanyeol. He let out a restrained noise of approval as her hands traced up his firm back and latched onto his neck, her roaming fingers tugging softly on the ends of his tangled locks. 

She’s realized that no matter how many times she’s kissed him, or how long ago it’s been, each time is like a new shock of surprise, sending tingles of warmth through her body and reminding her how much she longs for him when away from his gentle, lingering touches. To her, Chanyeol was a sweet addiction, one she was sure boosted her health like that of a vitamin; once she had her first taste of what it felt like to be wanted, trusted, loved, she made sure to take her daily dose