The following account happened in their First Year of college

“Kwonnie! This sure is a surprise,” your mother’s happy baritone voice greeted from the other end. Even without her in front of you, you could clearly see her sharp eyes sparkling in amusement—the same eyes you inherited from her. Her pixie cut, now longer, was probably just above her chin—side fringes outlining your mother’s strong bone structure. She was most likely wearing one of her jerseys as well; and judging from today’s cold weather, it was probable that she opted for a dark-colored one. Her favorite was a black and red baseball jersey she had gotten when she used to coach the local little league. 

You frowned, however, remembering who got you into this messed-up dormitory scheme in the first place. “Well, yes, I bet it is. I’m still not over it, mother,” you replied, eyes rolling in exasperation. You were certain your mother knew what you just did.

She chuckled—a sound quite similar to your own. “It’s been months, you know. It’s high time you accept your fate, Kwonnie” she said, singing the last part.

Kwonnie.

You kind of hated your mother for giving you one of the most terrible sounding nicknames on the face of the earth. It was supposed to combine your love for martial arts and your “charm point.”

You honestly had no idea what she was talking about.

“I’m sure you’re having loads of fun right now!” she said. “Now, tell me: how are the boys there in Seoul? How about your roommate? You never talk about him!”

You could see her winking.

You cringed. Never in a million years did you ever think you would have this conversation with your mother; your mother—of all people. “Mother, your attempt at being a feminine, doting mom is pathetic—almost like your attempt at getting rid of my hatred for men.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop bugging you about that,” she said, voice reverting to its normal pitch. “I know you’ll tell me when you want to tell me—which is probably, never. But, oh well, I’ll force it out of you soon. Anyway,” your mother cleared , “Why did you call, Kwonnie? You don’t do this very often.”

“Actually, this is only the third time I’ve called since the start of college,” you pointed out. You weren’t much for texting or e-mailing or calling. You preferred letters.

Your mother sighed. “My child is such a recluse. It’s like you live under a rock or something.” she whispered, ‘tsk’-ing away.

“Mother, if you’re done regretting all the things you did that made me such a shut-out, can I continue telling you my reason for calling?”

“…All right, I’m done. Now, you may continue.”

You smiled. “Finally. Well, you know how I should be there by tomorrow to celebrate Christmas?”

“Oh yeah! I can’t wait to finally see you again, Kwonnie! And I’m sure the boys would be thrilled to have you back as well. You only visited that one day during summer, so imagine their excitement when they found out you were arriving tomorrow to spend the rest of winter break with us!”

Your smile faltered, and you swallowed hard. Of course they were all waiting for you. And of course they were painfully waiting for you. To have that actually said to you just made you feel worse for what you were about to do.

“Umm, about that, I…I can’t spend Christmas with you this year,” you muttered, voice growing weaker with every word.

“What?”

You bit your lip. You’ve never felt this guilty, this remorseful in your entire life. “Something came up. My roommate…well, not just him. He and his friend are sick, plus, they won’t be returning to China this year, so I…”

“So you volunteered to take care of them? Kwonnie, don’t they have relatives they can stay with? Or anyone else in the dorm to care for them?”

“Mother, no, they don’t. Which is why—“

“Oh, I know!” she interrupted, clapping in the background. “Why not take them here? You’ll be driving anyway, so—“

“Mother!” you half-shouted, almost failing to restrain yourself. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, then switched back to the receiver. “Mother, my roommate and his friend have impossibly high fevers right now. Dangerously, dangerously high,” you emphasized through gritted teeth. “All of the borders have gone home, even our foreign students. Honestly, mother, I have no idea why these two are still here when they should have gone back to China weeks ago…Hell, I don’t even know why I’m still here as well. Anyway, the sad part is that my roommate doesn’t have any relatives here in Seoul or in South Korea for that matter; and the same goes for his friend.”

You exhaled. “To sum it all up, mother, the three of us are the only ones left, and I’m the sole member who has the strength to do some work around here.”

There was no exchange of words after that; the only sound you heard was your mother humming some classic trot song as she pondered on your argument. Well, with or without her approval, you would stay firm with your decision.

“Well,” she spoke slowly, “I’m fine with it. And I’m sure your father’s fine with it.” You could feel her Cheshire grin. “I’m glad you care about your friends that much to do something to that extent. It’s been barely a year, and look at you: preferring to stay in Seoul rather than spending the holidays with us here in your hometown. I think you should thank me for what I did?”

God, you wanted to hit your head against the wall. Even when it was unnecessary, she would still find a way to insert that issue.

“Mother,” you seethed.

Your mother released another velveteen laughter—thick and fluid with delight. “Kwonnie,” she said, “I’m proud of you. That shell of yours is cracking, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer.

“Well, whoever your roommate and his friend are, they sure are something to get that much emotion out of you. And since you’ll be breaking your poor father’s heart, and poor SHINee’s hearts, the least you can do is to send me a photo of your roommate and his friend, hmm?”

You twitched. “…If I remember to do that,” you mumbled.

“You better!” your mother exclaimed. “Oh, but don’t worry! If they’re too handsome, I won’t show the photos to SHINee. Wouldn’t want your boys to feel threatened, huh? Especially not dear Taeminnie! He’s been—“

“Mother, stop rambling. If this conversation is done, then I am going to put down the—“

“Kwonnie!”

“…What.”

“Merry Christmas.”

You grinned, feeling your mother’s presence right in front of you. It was a ghost of an image of your mother, but it was nice. It felt nice because even if it was just a figment of your imagination, you could see your mother’s smile.

Her pixie cut hair, which you thought would be longer, was still the same because she had another haircut, refusing to have any hairstrand past her cheeks. Her black jersey was how it was: dirt evident despite the color; she must have been teaching the kids in your neighborhood how to play baseball. And her sharp eyes, even with the genetic cat-like quality, were still so soft and loving—gazing at you with tenderness you didn’t think possible with your mother’s roughness and masculinity.

“Merry Christmas, mother.”

You entered the room, gently closing the door behind you.  Lu Han lied on his bed, while Kris was on the mattress you had transferred from his room. The scene almost had you laughing if it weren’t for their sickly disposition. Kris, who was usually strong-willed and serious, was now curled up in a ball, hugging the comforters close to his body. Lu Han, on the other hand, was restless, tossing and turning—unable to sleep.

Kris, hearing your entrance, weakly opened his eyes to peer up at you. “Who were you talking to?” he asked, throat sore from all the coughing he did last night till this very moment.

“My mom,” you answered. You knelt beside Kris, placing a palm on his forehead to check his temperature. “Well, at least you’re not burning anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Kris suddenly said, turning his body toward you. “You were supposed to go home tomorrow, weren’t you?”

You blinked. Despite his tall stature, Kris was such a big softy inside, and he easily felt guilty for the littlest things—even if it wasn’t his fault. “That doesn’t matter,” you instantly replied, standing up to get some medicine on your desk. After pouring him a cup of water, you returned to Kris’s side and helped him sit up. “It doesn’t matter, really,” you assured him as you aided him in consuming the pill.

You then turned to Lu Han.

“We’re sorry. You’re stuck here with us.”

The look of shame on his face was enough to drive you nuts.

You pursed your lips, disappointed with their self-pity, and mad at how little the trust they put in you was. You knew you shouldn’t be, but you were angry. You were angry because they didn’t need to feel sorry for themselves. You were angry because you knew it was also a bit of your fault for not clearing things up. You were angry because you felt like you weren’t investing as much on this friendship as the others were.

“Listen, the two of you. Don’t feel guilty, all right? I’m here because of my own wanting, my own decision. I want to stay here with you, understand? And with or without your fevers, I would have stayed. I can’t and will not possibly leave the two of you alone. So shut your mouths and just rest, okay?“ you assured them, tucking some unkempt hairstrands behind your roommate’s ear.

Lu Han’s big, doe eyes followed your movements as you popped open a tablet and pushed it between his lips. Cautiously, you placed the cup in front of his mouth, and tilted it ever so slightly so water could enter and dissolve the bitter pill. Lu Han, with much difficulty, gulped down the liquid, shutting his eyes in agony.

The tablet, although small, tasted awful.

You wiped away the excess liquid around his mouth, gingerly tracing the corners of his lips with your callused fingers. You apologized for their rough texture, lamely telling Lu Han that your fingers could only dream to be as graceful as his. Your roommate, however, thought otherwise as he chuckled, nuzzling against your forearm.

“You know, I learned something new about you today,” he sounded cheerful—satisfied—despite his lack of strength, “You don’t like showing it, but you’re very caring.”

You blinked.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, staring up at you.

“Merry Christmas,” Kris repeated, tugging on your pajama pants.

You looked at the two of them, shifting glances from one to the other. Finally, you settled in between them, kneeling on the tiny gap that separated Lu Han’s bed from Kris’ mattress. You patted their heads, letting your fingers run through their hair in an effort to soothe them and make their pain go away.

“Merry Christmas.”

Author's Note:

Hello, everyone!

No, I do not care if I should be writing Taemin's story nor the continuation to Cupids for a Day. It is Christmas and I wanted to write a Christmas special. 

In other news: yes, after 293893840934 chapters, our protagonist finally has a name! Well, it's not really her name; it's just her mom's nickname for her :)) And apparently, Lu Han doesn't know. 8D

Also, I would like to shamelessly endorse myself. Remember that one chapter of His Story I wrote with Se Hun as the main character (a.k.a. the previous chapter). Well, I did say that I've been having too many Se Hun feels lately so I made a short drabble collection called The Taste of Tea I hope you guys could check it out and comment on it :-)

Well, not much to say. Sorry for my long absence. Honestly, though, sometimes, I'm just too lazy to write. :-)) But rest assured that most of the time, I'm just too busy. Even without school, I still have a lot of things going on, with extra-curricular activities and whatnot ;A; 

Again, thanks for reading, subscribing and commenting! Be sure to leave a comment or two :-) 

Happy Holidays, everyone!