Growing up, the little community on the outskirts of Daegu was a tight knit one and the house on the hill was well known. Junmyeon’s great grandparents had moved to the area a century ago and his grandfather is the one who had the house built along with what grew to be the local farmers market that his father managed while his mother worked as a teacher down at the elementary school.

After three miscarriages, Junmyeon was born, the cozy house on the hill becoming even cozier with his presence. His parents and grandparents occupied the only two bedrooms available and his family as a whole was far too fond of the house to move, so once Junmyeon outgrew his crib he slept behind a small divider in the living room. That was the setting for a good chunk of his childhood memories: sitting on his cot next to his Batman lava lamp, taping pictures he cut out from the brochures Jongdae would pick up for him on his family’s summer visits to Seoul.

Everyone liked Jongdae and his family. They moved into town with the opening of the first small apartment complex and had opened a quaint but oftentimes struggling hostel not long after. Always the type to help, Junmyeon’s grandparents volunteered to watch over the then six month old Jongdae during the day. He was a much louder child than Junmyeon but Junmyeon would crawl around with him willingly. It was because of Jongdae that when the time came to start preschool, Junmyeon was allowed to go at all. At four years old, Junmyeon hadn’t said his first words yet but both his and Jongdae’s families thought that them staying together would be for the best.

The chance they took paid off. By the end of his first year, Junmyeon had started talking to his family and Jongdae. By the second year, he responded to his teachers albeit very quietly. By the time his grandfather died when he was nine, Junmyeon had developed a strong interest in the play his grade was putting on about vegetables. Thinking of his grandfather, Junmyeon said his one line proudly dressed as a radish.

For a family that was so involved in the town, it was only fitting that Junmyeon grow a fondness for community. He quietly did his part for cultural festivals and church gatherings. Truthfully, he had never thought of dating, so it was a shock to him when a very beautiful but equally quiet girl asked him out in front of the library his second year of high school. 

He’d wanted to be more firm but the panicked shaking of his head only made the girl confused. Afraid of rejection, she had grabbed his arm and refused to let go and her touch sent unpleasant sensations all over his body. He didn’t mean to push her. He knew it wasn’t right to push people, especially girls, but he had. The nice local boy had pushed a girl and she skinned her palm on the pavement.

“Is it true what they say?” she’d asked. “That you’ll only be with Jongdae?”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Even though Jongdae always made time for him, he was a popular boy at school. Still, Junmyeon hadn’t guessed that he personally would become the subject of any sort of school gossip no matter how minor. That’s why he liked being quiet. He liked doing his part. He liked the little prop table he’d built for the upcoming school production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream . He thought about the celebratory corndogs he’d eat with Jongdae after opening night. Even all these years later, Jongdae was his only friend in a sea of acquaintances. Jongdae was his most special person. That should be obvious.

“Jongdae is special to me,” he’d said. 

Jongdae was used to him not understanding or simply not caring about many things that most everyone else was interested in. Going to parties, watching horror movies, and looking at girls were things that never crossed his mind. Jongdae was fairly sure he was a late bloomer but it’s not something Junmyeon had noticed at all. If Junmyeon didn't care, Jongdae felt no need to pressure him about it.

Jongdae didn’t distance himself from Junmyeon when the rumors surged through the town full force or when he his offers to volunteer at church or with the town cultural committee were rejected. He stayed close when his grandmother stopped speaking to him, a miraculous feat in a house as small and cozy as theirs. 

“It's true that I’m not interested in girls,” he’d told Jongdae with a roll of kimbap between them. “Not one bit. I like you and theatre and Batman in that order. Is that bad?”

So it was his surprise when they each attended universities in Seoul that Jongdae said he should find his special person for real now that they were away from home, that it was time to grow up a bit and explore no matter who that exploration took him to. It’s when he introduced Li Yin as his special person. 

Junmyeon still didn’t understand but was used to not understanding by this point. So he dedicated himself even more to his special place instead: the theater. It was two years after he graduated and got his job with the ballet that he met Taecyeon, a plus one at a ballet fundraising event with free alcohol. After a lifetime of feeling a lot like an alien, Taecyeon stepped in like it was his duty to fix him in all the ways his now deceased grandmother didn’t want him to be fixed. Junmyeon had hated himself by that point. Luckily, Taecyeon hated him just as much.

A year after they met, Taecyeon officially became his special person. Taecyeon didn’t like it when he spoke to Jongdae. Taecyeon didn’t like it when he left Seoul to visit his parents. Taecyeon didn’t like it when he said no to the or no to the drugs. Taecyeon didn’t even like that he worked for the ballet, a place too fancy and high class for someone like Junmyeon who grew up sleeping in the living room of his dirty country house. So when Taecyeon threatened to leave him, Junmyeon stopped saying no. He didn’t say no for years except when it came to his work. Hanging onto his position at the ballet was eventually what started the beatings. The sudden death of his parents ripped the rug right out from underneath him and by that point the only one left to catch him was Taecyeon. 

Taecyeon chose that moment to just let him fall.

***

By the third Saturday of December, Junmyeon hadn’t crossed off the dates on his kitchen calendar for several days. He didn’t like the way the mailman rang his doorbell the days following their interaction so he dismantled it. He felt guilty about it so he avoided the kitchen and the dining room almost entirely with the hope that he’d be less likely to think about if what he’d done made the mailman upset or not.

But he still knew the time of day his mail would be delivered. To avoid it even more, he’d started back in earnest cleaning up his father’s shed. Using his muscles and sweating a bit under his winter coat made him feel better but the memories he uncovered going through the shed made the grief he’d managed to bury bubble back up to the surface.

He should’ve locked the shed, walked away, and called Jongdae the moment he uncovered a small crate of imported bourbon. He recognized it as his father’s favorite specialty, the kind he’d always have a glass of on Friday evenings and special occasions. Maybe it was the universe laughing at him. Maybe it was the universe daring him. 

So he really had forgotten it was the third Saturday of December. At eleven in the morning he was still in bed. He didn’t hear Jongdae knocking when the doorbell didn’t work and his cellphone had been dead for a while. But Jongdae was always really smart, always thought ahead. Jongdae had his own key to the house on the hill. Jongdae wasn’t just Junmyeon’s friend, he was a family friend.

Junmyeon winced when Jongdae opened the curtains of his bedroom, the sun shining through. He burrowed under the covers when Jongdae started cleaning up, throwing the empty bottles away and finally sat with him when he heard Junmyeon start to cry.

“I-…  I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Where’s the rest?” Jongdae asked him quietly. 

“There isn’t.”

“Where’s the rest, Junmyeon?”

Junmyeon sniffled, hiccuped, and adjusted himself to glare at his friend.

“I DON’T NEED YOU! OFF! LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

Junmyeon tried to get up but fell to the floor and covered his ears. For a while, Jongdae sat and watched him cry. By the time he finished running a bath, Junmyeon accepted the water and crackers his friend brought up to him. A new box, because like usual Jongdae got his groceries for him.

“In the shed,” he said while sitting in the tub. He couldn’t remember at that moment the last time he’d bathed. “I didn’t know it was there. I swear.”

“I’m just glad you’re ok.”

Junmyeon rested while Jongdae cooked in the kitchen. When Jongdae called him down for a late lunch, Junmyeon had changed into fresh pajamas and another pair of his holiday socks. He sat down in front of the arrangement of salmon, rice, and soup. Jongdae bowed his head in prayer. 

“I know a good therapist in town,” Jongdae said. “He works in my building. Told me a while back that he’d be willing to come out here once a week… just to talk.” When Junmyeon didn’t answer, Jongdae kept going. “His name is Baekhyun. He’s the same age as us and a good friend of mine. A country boy who thinks Daegu is the big city. He likes Batman too.”

Junmyeon swallowed around nothing and put his utensils down. He’d picked at some of his food but had let most of it go cold.

“I was doing well. I was doing fine. I really was… before this. You saw it, right? You saw it for yourself… how well I was doing.”

“I saw you trying really hard… but… … it’s stressful for me too, alright? I worry about you all the damn time because I love you and I don’t want you to be just barely getting by the rest of your life. I want you to be happy.”

And then there was the other unsaid thing, the fact that Jongdae felt really guilty, felt really responsible for not fighting more to keep Junmyeon in his life these past few years. He’d called Li Yin from the police station after going to the club Taecyeon owned to beat the life out of him. He hadn’t been very successful. Junmyeon knew better than anyone how good Taecyeon was at holding people down.

“Let’s set it up then. For after the holidays.” 

“Really?” Jongdae asked like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “You’re sure?”

“No. I’m not sure.” Junmyeon thought about trying to smile, but tossed the idea. “This is me trusting you.”

***

Jongdae had stayed over that Saturday night and left late Sunday afternoon after convincing Junmyeon to agree to a modified Christmas plan. It was Li Yin who rang his doorbell at eleven on Christmas morning, Jongdae a distance behind her lifting various food and spices from the trunk.

With the both of them in his home, Junmyeon still couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He put a lot of concentration into dusting off the record player until Li Yin all but dragged him into the kitchen to teach him about fast and easy healthy snacks he could make on his own. She was glowing, as always, and Junmyeon was so very happy Jongdae had someone like her in his life. Their wedding was the last thing he’d attended before Taecyeon came into the picture. 

“The Saturday after New Years,” Jongdae told him on the couch after Li Yin had kicked them out of the kitchen for disrupting her baking process. “I’m giving Baekhyun a ride here and I’ll go shopping while he’s with you where you guys can figure out what the permanent schedule will be. Does that work?” 

“Yeah, it works.”

“Junmyeon?” Li Yin called from by the front door. The two of them went to meet her, eying the round tin she was holding decorated with a Christmas theme. “I was on my way to get something from the car but saw someone had dropped this off. Do you know a Zhang Yixing?”

Jongdae took the tin from her and the card on top of it.

“It’s not someone from… his crowd, is it?” Jongdae asked him quietly.

“I’ve never heard the name.”

Lifting the lid revealed what seemed to be homemade chocolate chip cookies that Li Yin began admiring. Junmyeon went back to the living room to open the letter, aware that Jongdae’s eyes were on him. It came in a pastel green envelope and the letter itself looked like it was from a personal stationery set rather than something picked up at a store.

It read: “Dear Mr. Kim Junmyeon,  It is very important to me that I repay you for the kindness you showed me.  Please enjoy these cookies with your loved ones. A list of ingredients used is also enclosed. Merry Christmas! -Zhang Yixing (your postman).”