Kim Jongin had been training to become a police officer when he met Oh Sehun in a coffee shop on Christmas Eve. He remembered it like it was yesterday, in fact. It had been snowing several inches (he recalled it was the heaviest snowfall in five years) and the coffee shop Sehun worked in happened to be the only one open at two in the morning, let alone during a seasonal holiday. The funny thing was that there were no customers; Jongin would have gone right past the frosted windows if he hadn't seen Sehun inside, crying over a mug of coffee.

Now, Jongin wasn't the type to stick his nose into personal things nor the kind to comfort complete strangers, but it was Christmas Eve and he figured doing something nice would give him some good karma for next year. He needed that karma badly because he actually had a shot at a promotion next month and he couldn't afford to miss it.

He remembered everything from the way the coffee shop played some tinkling Christmas carol when he entered and Sehun who had looked up in surprise to see that a customer had come inside when the door was—as he remembered it—locked (he had never been the sharpest tool in the shed).

Jongin had joked "Santa doesn't give crying boys any presents" and somehow that cheesy line worked like a miracle on Sehun who laughed softly and wiped his puffy eyes. Jongin remembered quite vividly how sweet the coffee shop smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, how beautifully tragic Sehun looked with his pale skin illuminated by the glow of hung Christmas ornaments and forced smile.

Jongin had nowhere else to be so he sat with Sehun and introduced himself first, then learned after twenty or so minutes that this was Sehun's third Christmas Eve alone, that he had no family to go home to for a holiday dinner or even a home to sleep in. Sehun was working long hours in exchange to sleep in the coffee shop's storage shed with some cardboard boxes and a sleeping bag rolled on the floor. He figured nobody would see if he kept the store lights on just a bit longer on Christmas Eve, but it had been sheer luck that Jongin had come by when he had.

He remembered telling Sehun about his daily adventures as a police officer, how training was difficult (he only stressed how difficult it was to appear manlier in front of Sehun), how his training officer was a five-star , and how, even after Jongin told Sehun every lame joke that was in the book of all lame jokes, Sehun smiled.

They had gone from strangers to friends in almost three hours, an impressive record for someone so antisocial like Jongin. It had only been three hours, but by the time Jongin had to leave, he couldn't bear to abandon Sehun so, naturally, he invited him home to spend Christmas together.

He remembered walking Sehun home under one umbrella, how the snow fell in clumps and Sehun laughed like it was something to laugh about, how they came to Jongin's one-room apartment only five minutes away and Sehun tried on his police uniform. He looked so cute that Jongin actually said he was cute, Sehun blushed, and the two felt absolutely silly the rest of the night.

On Christmas day, they made sugar cookies in Jongin's apartment and it turned out Sehun was a fantastic cook who knew how to bake things from scratch, so he made Jongin some police badge-shaped cookies. They enjoyed hot chocolate with marshmallows by the roaring fire and decorated the Christmas tree together, something Sehun admitted he had never done before, even as a child.

Jongin wasn't sure what came over him when he saw Sehun's smile illuminated by the Christmas lights, his gaze sparkled by reds, blues, and yellows, that he kissed him beside the tree. It was clumsy, awkward (he was sure he had missed Sehun's lips by half an inch), and impulsive, but that was what made his heart beat faster. It was purely instinctive; he hadn't really thought about how or when he should kiss Sehun, nor if it was too fast or just right or—it was perfect, because Sehun kissed him, too.

"You cheated, there's no mistletoe," Sehun had said and the two of them laughed (that day, Jongin also found out that Sehun would snort in mid-laugh and he thought that was adorable).

Jongin wasn't even sure if they were dating or if anything was official, but he guessed if Sehun wanted to take a picture for memory's sake, he could assume it was. He kept the polaroid photo of the two grinning by the Christmas tree and Jongin had sworn he had never seen a happier boy than Sehun before, except him, because he had met the love of his life.

After Christmas, Sehun went back to work and Jongin was contemplative, wondering if they were official, if the kiss had set anything in stone or if he was the only one wishing something could happen.

He remembered going back to the coffee shop and proposing to Sehun with a bouquet of wild flowers he had picked from here and there. He remembered how Sehun had screamed yes and how his whole life had changed since then.

A year later, Sehun had moved in with Jongin, his boyfriend, and the two got busy refurnishing the entire apartment to match Sehun's vision of a perfect love-house. Jongin had to admit that it was nice and convenient having Sehun with him, especially since his boyfriend had an obsessive habit of cleaning everything that was out of place. Everything would be where it originally was and Jongin sometimes found that a bit weird. Since Sehun was fond of photos, they hung their polaroids on clothespins around the walls, tacking up every frame of a memory they had shared together. Every photograph was put up but the one they had taken on their first Christmas together, which Jongin personally kept close to himself.

One day, Sehun had asked him why he kept that photograph around so it would get abused, yellowed, and gnarled, and Jongin just told him it was a special memoir that was too important to use as home decor.

After their second Christmas together, shortly after New Year's, Jongin had been drafted into the military and the two exchanged tearful goodbyes. Jongin promised to write letters and Sehun promised to wait, even if he wouldn't see him for two years.

The few calls he was allowed while serving the military were all used on Sehun. They only had two minutes, and each time Jongin told him how much he loved Sehun and how it was growing everyday, because he never knew how much longer it would be until he'd get to say it again. Then, Sehun would sing him a lullaby because Jongin was scared as hell; the only reason he had ever wanted to be a police officer was because he was scared.

He was scared of dying. He was scared of fighting. He was scared of holding a gun. He was scared of literally everything but he believed confronting his fears would eventually pave the path to overcoming it. Sehun helped by singing to him but sometimes their time would run out and he'd never get to hear the end of the song.

A letter came from Sehun a few months before Jongin had finished his service, one that nearly ripped him up from the inside. Sehun was diagnosed with a heart disease with a name Jongin didn't understand even if he knew. The letter was hopeful and reassuring, with Sehun saying this and that about how the doctors had already prescribed him some effective medicine and that there was nothing wrong, but Jongin knew better—or so he had thought.

When Jongin came home after two years, he and Sehun reunited warmly like they had never been separated in the first place. Jongin was surprised to find Sehun so healthy that he never would have guessed he was suffering from this cardiovascular disease if he hadn't told him so.

Their four year anniversary was coming up and things weren't going so well. Jongin was never home and Sehun was always worried sick that his boyfriend was hurt, lost, or even dead somewhere, but his constant nagging always irked Jongin. The miscommunication always ended up in arguments—loud, hurtful arguments—where Jongin would throw things and tear clotheslines off the walls, arguments where Sehun would scream and cry and end up spending the night in the bathroom with the door locked shut.

When Sehun lost his job and the bills started piling high, the arguments got worse and Jongin was sure their sugar-coated love had finally come to an end; yet, no matter how bad things got, they always managed to stay together. Neither of them broke it off first because Jongin had yet to admit that he feared losing Sehun the most.

Sehun knew that.

He remembered, in the end, how they would curl up in bed and Jongin would apologize first by wrapping his arms around Sehun's waist and tickle him until he'd see Sehun smile again. Then, he would tell him they would get through it, that everything would be okay, and Sehun would sing him his lullaby. They always had the faith to make it through another night, just by hanging on a thin thread they called love.

One day, Sehun suggested that they adopt a child and Jongin thought that no adoption agency would willingly hand over a teenage couple that was struggling financially, but they managed to cover that part with Jongin's military funds and Sehun figured a child would be best to mend their tattered relationship.

Jongin remembered Sehun's smile when they adopted their baby girl, an infant barely over six months old with eyes like Jongin's and skin as fair as Sehun's. He remembered holding the baby girl in his arms and saying "this is my baby girl" out loud.

Miraculously, their relationship mended bit by bit when Jinju, their daughter, arrived. Jongin spent more time with Jinju and Sehun, and he remembered how happy he had been to hear her say 'daddy' for the first time. However, he had been the happiest to peek into the cradle room and hear Sehun singing his lullaby to their daughter every night, or even at three in the morning.

Jinju was one when the whole family went to go buy her new shoes for Christmas, and on the way there, a semi-auto truck charging fast had slammed into their car and left the whole front shattered and crushed. Jongin's legs were crushed beneath the debris, he heard Jinju crying in the back, thankfully unscathed, but Sehun's side had clearly taken all of the impact and Jongin was horrified to see his boyfriend bleeding and mangled beside him.

He had reached out to cup Sehun's cheek, relieved to see that Sehun could still open his eyes and speak, although very hoarsely. "Baby," he had said, "Baby, don't leave me. Please don't leave me." He remembered how he had cried so hard because he was scared as hell, how he felt Sehun's tears on his hand with the warm blood trickling down the side of his lover's head.

"Jongin..." Sehun had whispered, a bloody hand reaching up to clasp over Jongin's on his cheek, "I love you."

"Don't, please don't, Sehun, please..."

Jongin remembered how Jinju had been crying the whole time, how Sehun whispered 'shh' softly to their little baby and how sweetly Sehun hummed 'just close your eyes, this is your very own lullaby, count to ten, until we meet again' and Jongin whispered it with him before he heard Sehun give his last breath.

By the time the ambulance arrived, Sehun had passed away but Jinju was alive.

Jongin spent his days crushed by alcohol and depression, so haunted by his nightmares that he often thought of suicide and even taking Jinju with him into the clutches of hell. He was so stressed waking up at two in the morning to feed Jinju, raising her without Sehun's loving touch or warmth in the home that had lost its color the day Sehun died. He started looking up different adoption agencies, but mostly carried his days huddled on the ground, hands fisted in his hair, not knowing what to do as their child cried and cried and cried.

"I know you miss him!" he had barked at her one day, "I miss him, too! What do you want me to do!" He was teetering on the edge of going into hysterics, he knew. There had to be something completely mental about yelling at an infant who could barely speak.

Jinju had stared back at him in the middle of the empty apartment floor, wide-eyed and red-faced, looking guilty as if she understood what Jongin had said.

It was in that pivotal moment that Jongin had seen Sehun in her face and remembered how Sehun would sing to their daughter. She was theirs. She was everything he had left of Sehun. He held her in his arms and sang to her, just like Sehun would. Jinju stopped crying instantly, her little fingers clinging into Jongin's shirt. "I know you miss him, baby girl," he had said and showed her the Christmas photo he kept in his wallet, "I miss him so much, too."

She had been the only one to hold that special photograph besides Jongin and she seemed to know how important it was, staring at her two parents for a long time.

Before he knew it, Jinju was five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five years old.

Jongin hadn't noticed how fast time had gone by, until his daughter came home with her fiance on his fiftieth birthday, until he went past the coffee shop he had met Sehun in and discovered it had been reconstructed nearly ten years ago into a bookstore, until he wore his cadet uniform and remembered how cute Sehun had looked in it. He wondered how much cuter he'd look in his new Chief of Police uniform. He wondered if it really had been twenty-five years because it still felt like yesterday he had walked Sehun to his apartment under one umbrella.

He was proud of himself for having raised Jinju so well, especially now that she had grown to be a very successful pharmacist who had gone to medical school and everything.

She had asked him why he was heading out in subzero temperatures to Sehun's grave on Christmas Eve, that he should be staying at home, enjoying her holiday dinner. He had explained to her that he couldn't leave Sehun alone, especially today, because every Christmas Eve, he saw a boy crying behind frosted glass.

He went out to Sehun's grave, laid flowers (the same ones he had proposed to him with) on the grass, and draped his cadet jacket over his tombstone. He told him he loved him like he did yesterday, the day before yesterday, and all the yesterdays before that. He had already lost Sehun so he wasn't scared anymore, he wasn't scared of anything else.

Jongin had been on field duty one day, got called out to a robbery, and faced the perpetrator holding a hostage. He held a gun in his hand and aimed steadily, lodged a bullet straight into the other man's head, narrowly missing the hostage, but took a bullet to his chest in return.

He must have lost consciousness for a short while because he woke up to the sky above him and Jinju holding his hand. He was still on the ground, bleeding, and he knew the paramedics hadn't moved him because he was seconds away from death. He had told his men specifically not to move his body from the scene of the crime. He didn't want to die in a hospital.

"Jinju," he said, his daughter's damp cheek, "My baby girl."

He had raised her all on his own with Sehun watching over them from heaven, and finally, it was time for him to let go and close his eyes.

"Dad, please... Please don't go."

Jongin mouthed the words and Jinju, with tear-filled eyes, whispered the sweet words as Jongin took Sehun's hand:

'Just close your eyes,

this is your very own lullaby,

count to ten,

until we meet again.'