Chapter Text
Jungwon lounged on the couch. It was Christmas Eve, and the house smelled like it had always smelled when he was little, when Santa still brought him gifts under the tree: oranges and cinnamon, mulled wine and cookies in odd shapes. Only that back then his mother hadn’t used a cheap Christmas-themed air freshener. She didn’t make cookies anymore. Or decorate the tree.
He was waiting for him. In fact, ever since he woke up at 11 AM, Jungwon could only think about him. It had been years. Was he taller, snobbier, one with the good, elevated crowd, with a better job and apartment?
He had vague memories from their childhood and teenage years. Mostly of his smile and laugh, how he used to carry him on his back, running until they both fell tumbling into the grass. At sixteen, Jungwon broke his arm, falling from a tree. He laughed at him but then carried him to the hospital, still laughing.
Jungwon didn’t quite know what had happened to their friendship, how they stopped talking at some point, when life got too busy and they ran out of time to fill each other in.
The bell rang. His thought stopped there before turning dangerous.
“Jungwon, get that!” his mother shouted from the kitchen.
His palms were sweaty on the doorknob. He was shaking. It was going to be awkward. Uncomfortable even.
“Hi…” Jungwon said as he opened the door.
“Hi. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas…” he said and stood there, staring at him, dressed in a long black coat with a scarf hanging loosely around his neck. He looked mature.
Different.
“Sorry, come in.”
He stood aside and wondered whether he should hug him. Too casual. Intimate.
“This is for you,” the other said.
A box, wrapped, with a bow. His gift stood at the bottom of a gift bag, less neatly or artistically wrapped.
“You didn’t have to.”
“Oh, come on. Has it been… what? Ten years?”
“Maybe. You’ve grown.”
“You haven’t,” he laughed, the same as he could remember it.
“Jay.”
“I’m kidding.”
He didn’t know how to act around him anymore. There was no ease in conversation. Jay had changed so much. What if he only liked expensive things, caviar, and designer brands, and talked only about private equity and luxury vacations?
His last vacation was in the countryside.
“Dating anyone?” Jay asked, as they entered the kitchen and the conversation died there; his mother hugged him, kissed his cheeks and they were laughing and smiling like nothing was particularly odd about it.
So Jungwon didn’t find the moment to say that no, he wasn’t dating anyone. Was he?
But then maybe his mother, attuned to how out of place he felt, pushed aside whatever she was doing and threw them out of her kitchen, upstairs to his bedroom. What a strange choice.
“God, it looks the same,” Jay said and sat on the bed. “These are the same sheets.”
“Yup. The ones I begged mom to buy.”
“You really were obsessed with dinosaurs, weren’t you?”
Jungwon shrugged.
“I heard you made it big.”
Jay shook his head.
“Not really.”
“Don’t be modest.”
“I’m not. Okay, maybe just a little. Open the present.”
“Oh, shit, I forgot to give you mine.”
He ran down the stairs, glad he was further and further away from him. It wasn’t his idea, but his mother’s. She met Jay’s parents while grocery shopping and they had all agreed it was such a shame their boys had lost touch. So they took care of everything as parents do, even though Jungwon begged her not to. Even though admitting he’d only ever slept in his childhood bed with stupid dinosaurs on it and he’d never once paid the electric bill by himself made him feel smaller. A child pretending to be a grown-up.
“Aren’t you happy? You were best friends, honey,” his mother had asked the previous night.
“When we were children.”
“You cried when you both left for college.”
Jungwon didn’t know what to say, so he let her invite Jay on Christmas Eve. He grabbed the little gift bag and felt bad. He’d been feeling bad about a lot of things lately.
“It’s not much,” Jungwon said and placed the fake Santa bag onto Jay’s lap.
“Doesn’t matter. Remember when you bought me that godawful T. rex inflatable costume? I got you a matching one and went out on Halloween like that.”
“We scared two cats and one dog,” Jungwon said, smiling.
“Come on, open my gift.”
He was shaking again, the room too hot, as he made out the contours of the present. It was too much, too expensive.
“Shit, a Nintendo Switch. Really?”
“Your mom told me—”
“I’ll kill her.”
“Don’t.”
“I can’t take it.”
“Yes, you can, weirdo.”
“My gift is shit.”
“It’s an inflatable T. rex,” Jay said, laughing. “Did you buy one for yourself? Tell me you did.”
“Of course I did.”
There was something else on the bottom; the entire gift was stupid, too sentimental. But sometimes Jungwon felt like that. Stupidly sentimental.
“Did you make this?” Jay asked as he opened the photo album. “I remember this.”
“Your first tooth fell.”
“You stole my tooth.”
“I still have it.”
“Show it to me.”
“You want your tooth back to put it on a chain?”
“Precisely.”
They wore the T. rex costumes, going back to the kitchen, scaring Jungwon’s mother. They ate in front of the TV, but Jungwon still felt bad about the Switch. But he felt bad about most things anyway.
“We should really watch that horror movie. What was it?” Jay asked.
“Saw?”
“Right. It’s a Christmas tradition.”
“Is it?”
“We can make it one.”
He didn’t want to throw Jay out of the house, but seeing him sit on his bed, crawling underneath his stupid dinosaur sheets as he brought the laptop, nothing made sense.
The past hit him right in the face. Was it even real?
Was Jay real?
He sat next to him, but it suddenly felt too close, too intimate, too much. Was he pretending that everything was fine, that no time had really passed and they were not just two people who used to know each other?
“Still scared of horror movies?” Jungwon asked.
“That’s why I’m watching it with you.”
Jay was still scared, and Jungwon liked it. He pressed closer and closer to him, until all shame and barriers were removed; until he hid his face against his shoulder and put his arm around his middle. Until he could smell his hair, his perfume, and feel his breath on his neck. Until they were so close, Jungwon felt too hot and wished it was all a dream, because it was all too much.
He had the same horrible feeling, sinking in the depths of his chest, a dampness, like wet cardboard left out to soak up the rain on the sidewalk.
It was warm, but he felt cold.
“Did you fall asleep,” he asked him.
“No. But… I missed this. You. Us,” Jay said and looked at him.
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t miss me.”
“I’m not. I just… didn’t think you’d actually come. It’s been years, anyway. We grew apart.”
“Did we?”
“Of course. You have your life, much better than mine, anyway. And I have mine. I really wish you hadn’t bought me an expensive gift,” Jungwon said.
“Why?”
“Like you don’t know.”
“I don’t. I thought you’d like it.”
“I like it.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is… you’ve always made me feel small. And you do it again. My gift was… a fraction of what you—”
“I like it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what’s the point?”
He paused the movie.
“You have everything. I don’t. And you always manage to shove that into my face. Always.”
“Oh, here we go again, with your inferiority complex,” Jay said and laughed. “Maybe I don’t have everything. You don’t know everything about me. You never knew because you’ve always been too busy feeling pity for yourself.”
“That’s not—”
“Stop lying.”
“Fine. I’m miserable and pitiful. Happy?”
“I should go home,” Jay said and stood up from the bed. “I really thought… whatever. Doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I guess not.”
Jungwon didn’t walk him to the door. He sat there, staring at the laptop screen, and hoped the sinking would go away. It didn’t. As he stood up, he glanced through the window at him, standing in the street, snow slowly falling; soft and white and pure. The light was fading into endless grey and the street lamps were glowing orange over the white.
He ran down the stairs, ran to the street, right into the cold, no coat, nothing, as the snow fell on his skin, turning it pink.
“Jay, wait!” he shouted.