viii. “Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay.”

—Ruin and Rising

_____

Jongdae, at first glance, is quiet.

It’s my first thoughts about him anyway, for quite a while too—out of everyone in his friend group, he doesn’t stand out because he’s loud, but because he’s quiet, always listening instead of speaking. It’s not a bad quality, it really isn’t, but at the same time, it’s not the same when that quietness is attributed to fear.

What of? There’s a lot to be afraid of. Fear of saying something wrong, fear of being judged, fear of saying too much and coming off as annoying (even when people all around him do the same thing), and much more. It’s not that he doesn’t have anything to say, but he never finds the right time to express it or let others know.

He really should, I think, but looking at Jongdae with his ever-present smiles and the signature quietness, I wonder if he’ll ever.

***

Another week passes, then another. The Christmas tree request from Jongdae doesn’t come true, because we meet up once at the library and then another time at a coffee shop after school because the team’s schedules clashes too much for him to be able to make it.

He rejoins his friends in the chemistry seating (apparently because Hwang Yusah is back, though I’m not sure). I’m too far away to tell if they’re talking properly, but it kind of seems in Languages that Chanyeol’s barely speaking to Jongdae and Jongdae keeps his silence too. It’s not nearly enough to figure out if they still haven’t solved their fight, and the last thing I want to do is ask Jongdae, as per usual, scared about whether or not it’ll make him mad.

We’re two weeks into December and a month and a half away from the presentation when we resume the Sunday meet-up schedule, though at this point, we’re really close to finishing. I tell Jongdae to come over, and, this time, a bit more used to my house and whatever shenanigans go on there with my parents, he comes with his laptop and books.

I open the door, inform him that neither of my parents are home and the Christmas tree is still miraculously up, and he gives me a slight grin. “I would hope it doesn’t get destroyed before Christmas,” Jongdae jokes as he steps inside. I can see him surveying the interior of the house like usual, even though there isn’t anything new.

Another thing I notice, though, is the grey under his eyes. It’s become a habit, especially when he’d mentioned insomnia—I find myself checking, because the lack of sleep always shows clearly on his face even if he covers it up through actions, maintaining the same attitude and cheerfulness. He can’t hide the dark grey rimmed around his eyes, neither can he hide the fact that he’s slightly—just a bit—less enthusiastic than usual, not quite keeping up sometimes.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask as we head into the living room. “I’ll get you milk. And then you can just nap in the living room. My dad always has a bunch of blankets. If you’re good, maybe I’ll even combine milk and chamomile tea.”

Jongdae snorts slightly. “I’m not going to magically fall asleep if you give me milk and a blanket,” he replies. “The spell will wear off, and besides, I’m not that tired anyway. And no, that’s gross. Don’t combine it.”

“Your idea.”

He shakes his head, smiling slightly, and then abruptly stops walking.

It takes me a couple of seconds to realize that it’s because Jongdae has finally spotted our Christmas tree, which is standing next to the window and covering up a good half of my dad’s desk. It’s quite tall, and the star is still crooked because no one bothered actually trying to fix it, though my mom has vacuumed the stray pieces of pine needles that used to litter the carpet.

“Oh, wait.” I glance at the tree sheepishly. “Wait, give me a second to plug in the lights. My mom always pulls them out during the day to ‘save energy’. Dad tells her that we can afford to be a little wasteful on Christmas, but he always loses the argument.”

Ten seconds later, I’ve managed to turn on the switch. The lights aren’t very bright because it’s daytime and there’s enough light coming from the outside, but when I take a step back to look, the Christmas tree, minus the awfully crooked star, isn’t as ugly as I thought it was.

Jongdae looks at it like he’s seen the most beautiful Christmas tree in the world, and while it’s flattering, I really don’t think our tree lives up to those standards.

“Well,” I start awkwardly. “It’s not the best Christmas tree, but we made do with what we had, so…”

He blinks, looking away from it finally and back at me. “It’s pretty,” he replies. “Seriously, it looks so nice.”

I want to make a joke about it, but part of me’s hesitant. He looks at the tree like he’s never seen one before, and while it’s probably not true because he’s definitely seen them on the street or in stores, perhaps it’s true to some extent. And maybe it’s not tradition here, I don’t know, but from the way Jongdae’s eyes linger for a little while longer, I think that perhaps it’s longing for something he’s never quite had.

Finally, Jongdae glances away. “Impressive,” he says to me. “But you’re right. The star is a bit crooked.”

“Very crooked,” I correct. “Do you want to study in the living room for today? I can heat up something warm to drink—I bought eggnog yesterday, but my dad also has this really expensive hot chocolate he thought would we should try out—honestly, Nestle’s fine—and then we got marshmallows.”

“Hot chocolate?” Jongdae suggests.

I’m craving eggnog as usual, but it’s Jongdae and I don’t like turning down his requests because he makes so few already, so I hurry into the kitchen to make it.

***

I find Jongdae fast asleep on the couch when I get back five minutes later.

I can’t say that I’m particularly surprised that he passed out, probably unintentionally, though I am torn between amused and slightly sad, because despite his claims about not being tired, he looks exhausted and he was obviously exhausted enough to drift off like that in such a short span of time. I decide that it’s probably best to let him rest for the time being, and, carefully, I set the hot chocolate down on the tea table. It’ll remain hot for a while longer, and it’s not as if we can’t afford to lose a bit of time on the project. He looks surprisingly small in the position he’s in, eyes shut and breathing steady, not smiling for once. I stand still for at least fifteen seconds too long before realizing that I’m staring at him sleeping and that’s quite creepy, and I look away, a bit embarassed.

Trying to keep my movements minimal, I make the mistake of sitting down on the couch. The moment I touch it, the cushion creaks, Jongdae snaps awake, and I freeze.

He blinks, looking confused for a good couple of seconds before his eyes land on me again. Still a bit bleary, he shakes his head as if trying to shrug off sleep. “Did I fall asleep?”

Mentally cursing myself, I sit down next to him. “What do you think, Sherlock?”

Shaking his head, Jongdae sits up straighter. “How long?”

“Don’t know when you fell asleep, but I left to go into the kitchen and make hot chocolate approximately five minutes ago and you woke up as soon as I tried to sit down, so you have slept a grand total of five minutes maximum. So much for ‘not being tired.’”

He gives me a more sheepish look. “I’m used to this,” he protests. “I don’t know why I nodded off. Maybe because it’s so warm in here. I was just looking at the Christmas tree and the next thing I knew I was asleep. It’s hypnotizing.”

“Stared too long and bored yourself to sleep?” I shoot back. “Very likely. Anyway, here’s your hot chocolate. I wasn’t sure how much marshmallows you wanted, so I just added a bunch because that’s mostly what normal people want.”

“Woah.” He accepts the cup from me. “What are you implying there?”

I point at the cup. “If you finish the cup of hot chocolate and all the marshmallows, you’re a normal person. Also, my laptop is broken. I forgot about it and didn’t tell you, so we’ll most likely have to use yours.”

Jongdae frowns. “I didn’t bring mine,” he starts.

A recipe for disaster, of course, except not really because we’re far enough along the project not to be extremely worried about it. “Change of plans?” I ask. He doesn’t look too bothered by it. “Do you have any other homework? We can just work on that and drink hot chocolate?”

***

Everything’s fine until Jongdae’s pulled the rest of his homework out, and as he rifles through his belongings, obviously looking for something, I pull out a book, stirring my hot chocolate and attempting the melt the rest of the surviving marshmallows.

I can tell he’s searching for something, though I don’t know what to say, so I watch as he practically turns his backpack inside out looking. Finally, I manage out, “What is it?”

He gives a brief break from the searching. “I need my notebook if I do the practice questions,” he explains. “I don’t know if… right. I think I gave that away.”

I stare at him. “Elaborate?"

“It’s nothing.” Jongdae is now putting everything he pulled out back into his backpack. “Someone asked me for my chem notes, so I just gave my notebook to them. I’ve already studied, so it’s fine, but do you have extra paper? I need something to write on.”

I reach for my own notebook and tear out one. “Who asked you for your notes?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know if you know her? Cho Hyemi.”

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