Kim Jongin had been in the process of “figuring his life out” for three years, and throughout all three of these years he lived across the hall from Kim Jongdae. That in itself was an experience, the experience Jongin was looking for from the “normal society”. 

And so Kim Jongin observed his duplex-mate from his doorway, morning coffee in hand. “What are you doing?”

Kim Jongdae looked at Jongin from over his shoulder, and then returned to attaching pieces of tape to pieces of red and green paper linked together in one large strip. “Hanging up decorations.” 

“For Christmas?”

Jongdae hummed in reply. “For my party later tonight. I made this with Harin the other night.”

“Harin? I thought you were gay.”

Jongdae turned around, giving Jongin a confused look accompanied with a harsh glare, one his father would give him when he was ‘convincing’ Jongin into doing something for him. “I am,” Jongdae explored carefully. “Harin is my boyfriend’s daughter? Minseok?”

“I didn’t know you had a baby.” Jongin frowned.

“Yes, you did,” Jongdae sighed, and then perked back up. “No no no, Harin isn’t mine, just Minseok’s-” he shook his head and his hands feverishly, not wanting Jongin to get any ideas. “Minseok had Harin with his ex-girlfriend, but he takes care of her. And you have met her; she drew on your door and you hit Minseok square in the crotch with the door when he was cleaning it?”

“Oh, that kid.”

“Yeah, that kid.” Jongdae rolled his eyes. 

Jongin found himself trying to recall the instances in when he saw the child as he entered back into his kitchen, and he thought back to the conversation he had just had with his mate, when he highlighted one part of their conversation.

“For my party later tonight.” Jongdae had said as he attached one end of the paper chain above the door.

Jongin dropped his mug so it clattered in the metal sink as he burst out his duplex door into the shared hallway yet again, Jongdae kneeling on the floor gathering up the various means of how he had tried to hang the paper chain.

“Did you say you were having a party tonight?” Jongin demanded, and again Jongdae looked up over his shoulder and Jongin, and then back down at what he was doing.

“Yes,” Jongdae said, standing up, cradling a box of nails, a stapler, and a tape dispenser shaped like a frog in one arm while he held a hammer with flower washi tape wrapped around the handle in his other hand. “Why? You’re welcome to come if you want.”

Jongin sighed, trying to contain himself. If Jongdae was his mother, he would throw himself to the ground, maybe stamp his feet around and pout until his point was proven and he got his way. But this was Kim Jongdae, his duplex mate and not his mother, and so he controlled his composure. “But I’m having my party tonight.”

“I’m around Harin enough for that pout to not work on me,” Jongdae pointed out, which just made Jongin pout even more. The Nini Pout™ always worked. “And we can both have parties, it’s not the end of the world.”

“It is though, Dae! Don’t you understand? All your guests will come to my party and all my guests yours and it’ll be one big mess.”

“Don’t you have anywhere better to hold your party? I always have my party on this day. You’re not usually here.”

“Father wouldn’t give me the PJ this year,” Jongin sighed in defeat, leaning against the doorway again. “And he cut my allowance and I missed the cutoff date for venue booking, and seeing as I’m the annual host, I couldn’t just move it to someone else’s place. Besides, my friends want to see how you poor people live.”

Jongdae stared blankly back at Jongin, and then jested his head to the side, taking the passive insult in stride. “You have plenty of pyjamas, Jongin.”

“Why pyjamas?”

“You said your father wouldn’t give you PJs this year.”

“Oh, the PJ,” Jongin corrected. “The private jet. I’m not flying economy, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Jongin made fake choking noises and hunched his shoulders as if he was about to be sick.

“Both of our parties being on the same night at basically the same place isn’t that big of a deal. Just, try and keep in mind that I’ll have children at mine, please.”

“You don’t understand how wild of a party this gets. Park Chanyeol gets black out drunk every year. He’ll probably retch right about… there,” Jongin pointed to a spot on the ground further down the hall. “And Oh Sehun strips after one sip of wine, basically, so you can only imagine how he is after a few shots of tequila. It really isn’t a child-friendly event.”

“So just keep your guests contained to your suite, and I mine.” Jongdae deadpanned. He really wasn’t having much of Jongin’s bull excuses onto why he couldn’t have his party; Minseok was already set to arrive early with snacks and Harin, and Jongdae had a small gift for Harin he wanted to gift her before other people arrived so it wouldn’t spark fights with other children.

“Kim Junmyeon is coming along for the first time, and I already have a down-scaled venue; I don’t think children running around will leave a good impression I want on him.”

“Kim Junmyeon?”

“Yeah, my father wants some sort of business deal with him, and since he recently took over his father’s company I’m basically just buttering him up-”

“I think he’s in one of my classes.” Jongdae frowned.

“Yeah, he’s into that brain stuff,” Jongin waved Jongdae off. “He said he wanted to become some sort of brain guy, I can’t remember what exactly, but since he’s the eldest son in his family he had to inherit the company. I heard there was a huge inheritance battle between him and his siblings because as the eldest, Jaekyung thought she would get the company, and Junmyeon didn’t really want it but he’s legally bound to it, so he’s trying to give her as many positions of authority as he can and there was this whole other thing with JR and Joonhee; it was a show.”

“Fascinating,” Jongdae rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he won’t give a about kids or not. I think this Oh Sehun stripping will leave a worse impression than children.”

“Actually, on le contraire. Junmyeon ed Sehun earlier this summer and totally wants to again, but Sehun’s been ing Bae Joohyun, which Junmyeon is lowkey mad about because he was supposed to marry her, but then her father’s company went bankrupt so Junmyeon’s father called it off, but now that Junmyeon has the company he thinks he can save them, which is wishful thinking because Mr. Bae is horrible with money and constantly fired his financial advisors. Both Sehun and Joohyun are going to be here tonight, so it’ll be interesting.”

Jongdae sighed. “Please, just keep the stripping and the ing and the retching to your suite, and I’ll keep all my stuff to mine.”

“Your party sounds lame.” Jongin frowned as Jongdae nudged his suite door open with his foot, closing it behind him and ending the conversation that was tiring for him. 

 

-

 

People always had a hard time discerning which suite was Jongdae’s and which suite was Jongin’s, no matter how simple of directions they gave.

“It’s suite A,” Jongdae instructed over the phone, almost five years ago now, when he first started seeing Kim Minseok. “It’s the only one on the left when you walk in. It has a giant gold ‘A’ on the door. It’s hard to miss.” Despite the clear instructions, Kim Minseok came knocking on what would be Kim Jongin’s door, and continued to do so, even after Jongin moved in.

Kim Jongin had his suite door propped open, trying to air out the smoke from the cookies he had tried to bake but burnt when Kim Jongdae’s door swung open. Jongin watched Jongdae angrily slam a piece of paper onto the front of his door and then storm back in. 

“Five years!” Jongin could hear Jongdae exclaim as the door closed shut behind him, much more gentle than Jongdae was. “And you still don’t know who’s suite is who’s!”

Jongin squinted to see what Jongdae had hastily hung on his door. It was a lined sheet of paper, ripped, that in large, blocky letters in Jongdae’s barely legible handwriting loudly proclaimed his name and that was, indeed, his suite.

Jongin couldn’t help but laugh at that.

 

-

 

Compared to what was going on across the hall at Kim Jongin’s, Kim Jongdae’s party was tame; almost boring. He sat in the centre of his red sofa, his boyfriend Kim Minseok sidled up his left, explaining something that Jongdae wasn’t listening to Do Kyungsoo while Harin and other children ran around his suite, playing some game Jongdae surely played as a child. 

Jongdae tried hard to focus on what was going on around him. The conversation Minseok was having, what food Yoon Bomi and Son Naeun were eating, of which he’d have to go out and buy more of tomorrow, what objects in his suite the children were close to breaking and what wall one of them would run into first, but all he could focus on was the aggressive thump thump thump of the bass from the loud music Kim Jongin had pumping through two sets of large speakers from across the hall. He drowned out the chatter of his own party and only heard the distant, indistinct chatter from Jongin’s.

Jongdae pushed himself up off of the sofa, upsetting Minseok.

“What’s up?” Minseok asked due to Jongdae’s sudden movements. 

“Nothing.” Jongdae shrugged, and then made to keep moving, but Minseok stopped him, grabbing his hand.

“Is it Jongin?” he asked, dropping his voice.

Again, Jongdae shrugged. “I’m just going to see what’s going on over there.”

“Want me to come?”

“I’ll be fine.” Jongdae slipped his hand out of Minseok’s and made his way across his suite.

“I’m here if you need me.” Minseok called out after him.

The minute Jongdae pushed the door of his suite open, the music and the conversation immediately intensified, causing Jongdae to have a small pulsing ache in his head. 

Jongin’s door was propped open, and just from the door Jongdae could tell Jongin’s party was much more packed than his was. 

Jongin’s guests consisted of men in nice, pressed suits and women in solid coloured, short dresses with their hair done up, and almost everyone held some sort of drink in their hands - martini glasses, beer bottles, wine glasses, tequila shot glasses; someone was holding a whole 330mL bottle of Smirnoff Ice that seemed already halfway drained. Despite their glamorous and well-put-together, formal appearances (which made him feel out of place, as he was wearing matching Christmas sweaters with Minseok), they seemed to behave as if they were at a high school party, when the parents of one of the football players were away for the weekend. There were multiple people sitting on Jongin’s island counter (which had been transformed into a make-shift bar), a slice of pizza was somehow stuck on the wall, someone who walked by him had some sort of blue substance splattered all up his arm, some girl was passed out drunk in the corner… and oh god, the making out. If Jongdae hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed it was some sort of group . 

Jongdae wasn’t yet sure what he was going to say when he found Kim Jongin, or why he was looking for him, but as he wandered about, he felt a hand reach out and tug on his sleeve, pulling him back and around. 

“Jongdae.” Pyo Hyemi said. She wore a blue sweater, and had little Christmas baubles in her hair.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Jo Sojin, who stood beside her, added. She had baubles in her hair similar to Hyemi’s, and her sweater was also identical, but pink rather than blue.

“We have no idea who any of these people are.” Hyemi continued.

“We thought this was a child-friendly event.”

“I’ve been hit on my at least five drunken men. This is far from what I expected from you, Jongdae.”

“My suite is across the hall,” Jongdae said, slightly confused and almost dumbfounded. “This is my mate’s, Kim Jongin’s.”

“Oh,” Hyemi muttered. “I guess that explains a lot.”

“It does.” Sojin giggled.

“There’s always confusion,” Jongdae tried to reassure the girls. “There’s a sign on the door. It’s open and there should be some of a charcuterie board left if Bomi hasn’t eaten it all.”

The girls thanked Jongdae and went on their way, and he continued his search for Kim Jongin. It didn’t take him long, however, as he could soon be heard yelling at a man in a white dress shirt, with his slacks half undone standing on his coffee table, “Sehun! Get down from there!” and then the assumed Sehun dumping a glass of bokbunja on his head before jumping down.

“ you!” Jongin yelled after him. 

“Hey,” Jongdae greeted as he approached the sopping wet Kim Jongin, who gave him a dangerous glare.

“What are you doing here?” 

Jongdae opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off before he could say anything. An arm was thrown across his shoulder, and the stench of alcohol on breath enveloped him.

“Hey there, there’s a lil’ man!” the man with his arms across his shoulders exclaimed. His hair was dyed a deep red, and his eyes and ears were as wide as he was tall.

“I bet you he’s still taller than Junmyeon.” another man piped in, sticking his face in front of Jongdae’s. His hair was dyed a platinum silver, that Jongdae thought would make anyone else look older, but somehow managed to make this man look even younger. Although he was clearly drunk, his words slurred and everything he said caused a giggle, his glittery eye makeup remained perfectly intact.

“Guys, get off of him.” Jongin waved them off, and the taller took his arm away from around him, but they didn’t leave. 

“We’re just trying to make friends, Nini.” the shorter of the two pouted, tilting his head to the side. 

“And business deals,” the taller said, and then cupped Jongdae’s face in his hands, bringing his face close to Jongdae’s, making the alcohol stench even stronger. “What company do you run, lil’ man?”

“Lemme guess, lemme guess!” the shorter put a finger to his lips, and the other man released Jongdae’s face. “Hmm… I’m guessing one of those online shopping companies. Are you cousins with Jeff Bezos? You look like him.”

“I’m thinkin’ somethin’ along the lines of like, a bank or somethin’. Only bankers show up to parties like this wearing something like that.” he used his head to gesture to Jongdae’s sweater. Jongdae tried not to take offence; Minseok had picked it out, but these men were drunk and rich and gave negative five s about anybody else in this party except themselves.

“And heirs of online shopping companies. Look at what Noh Leeyoung is wearing. What a disaster.” 

“It looks like she got dressed in the dark. No wonder Kim Yongsun won’t even look in her direction.”

“Guys, guys, leave Jongdae alone,” Jongin broke in again, waving his arms about. “He’s broke as and wishes he ran some kind of company. He goes to some community college or something.”

“I actually got into a really nice university,” Jongdae defended himself, taking offense. “I study psychology.” 

“Isn’t that what Kim Junmyeon is doin’?” the taller asked.

“Not anymore,” the shorter spat. “He had to drop out like the failure his family is.”

“That’s harsh.” Jongdae said.

“Chanyeol, Baekhyun, get out of here,” Jongin reiterated. “I’m not going to tell you again. Go tell Junmyeon what a failure he is instead of me; I don’t care.”

“Sheesh,” Chanyeol, the taller of the two, shot his eyebrows up. “You’re mean.” he took one of Baekhyun’s hands, who carefully walked alongside him as he glided away.

“He’s wearing Heelys,” Jongin told him before Jongdae could say anything. “His father owns a huge shoe distributor company, so Chanyeol has like, every shoe. Anyways, what the are you doing here? I thought you were like, dressing up as Santa for some kids or something.”

“I never said I was dressing up as Santa,” Jongdae said, confused. “And I just came to see what was going on over here, I guess.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Chanyeol all night to make sure he doesn’t puke in the hallways. Instead he puked in my bed, which will be fun for my maid later.” 

“Joy.” Jongdae muttered sarcastically.

“You know her? She’s here. Or do you mean the company? Because Wu Xuanyi, Son Juyeon, and Lee Jinsuk are all here, too,” Jongin must’ve seen Jongdae’s confused look, because he dismissed it and continued on. “If you wanna bring Minseon over for a bit you can.”

“Minseok has to stay with his daughter, Harin,” Jongdae explained for the umpteenth time. “This isn’t really his kind of thing, anyways.”

“Okay, well, see you whenever, then.” Jongin walked off after that, and although he didn’t really feel like Jongin was trying to kick him out by the end of the conversation, he still felt horribly out of place, and so he made his way back over to his own suite, where he was met with Minseok his finger and scrubbing at something on Harin’s face, who squirmed away from him.

And as Jongdae took the same spot on the same red sofa as before, he thought that people just wanted to feel loved around the holidays. Whether that meant watching your boyfriend scrub his daughter’s face with his thumb, or throwing an elaborate party, or holding your boyfriend’s hand because you couldn’t balance on your Heelys, or stripping on some man’s coffee table, people had their own ways of feeling loved.

“Tomorrow do you want to drive out with me and take Harin to see the Christmas lights display?” Minseok asked him later that night, to which he agreed to.

The next night, when Minseok arrived at Jongdae’s suite, he didn’t need a sign to remember which suite was Jongdae’s.