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hwaightme · 2 years ago

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The Chemistry of Christmas

❄️ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader (+implied woosan) ❄️ genre: fluff, christmas, opposites attract, mutual pining ❄️ summary: How could two people with such different views hope for the same thing? You, a logical and ambitious professional hiding a torrent of emotion within just to pave your future. Kim Hongjoong, your kindhearted and gentle friend and co-worker, who wants nothing more than to live in the moment. In this battle against time counting down to Christmas, will you be able to find your forever and make your wish come true? ❄️ wordcount: 10.6k ❄️ warnings/tags: language, explicit mention of alcohol, some get drunk, suggestive (very much so at times so minors please be mindful), ateez is a research group, christmas getaway, reader is ambitious and got that powerful energy, shy hongjoong, opposites attract, tension, back and forth, woo tormenting hwa like no tomorrow, hj and reader are nanoscientists, a bit of a work au, lmk if anything else ❄️ a/n: hello everyone! I'd like to wish you all a very merry Christmas and thank you from the bottom of my heart for the love and support you give. I am wishing for this celebration to bring you joy and adoration! I hope you enjoy this piece, and stay tuned for more to come! Reblogs, likes and follows always welcome <3

Magic in the air.

As though by a mysterious force, the city transformed in unison to a festive wonderland, much to the delight of its dwellers and visitors alike.

From the gorgeous trees to the intricate storefront decorations, to the aroma of sugar and spice travelling in the air from the cosy markets, the season was truly the one that kept on giving.

If that was not enough this year took things up a notch, with impressive snowfall for the majority of December. The quaint suburban neighbourhoods had come to look like miniatures from beloved fairy tale stories, while the high streets and city centre had taken on an astonishing glow. The temperatures kept on dropping, while the hearts of those around kept on getting warmer.

For you, Christmastime was most probably the best time of the year. You adored wishing merriness to the assistants at your favourite shops. Walking past the myriad of houses with wreaths, spotting Christmas trees glowing within and seeing people simply living in the miracle put a pep in your step. The exclusive beverages that were released just this time of year instantly were on your list to try, and never failed to cheer you up, ready for the day ahead.

And that was the secret behind how you came into work, beaming, in the depths of the ‘gloomy winter’, cheeks and nose flushed from the biting cold. The institute, where you were proud to be a fulltime researcher in the nanoscience department, could not escape from the cheer either and as you traversed the many corridors of your second home, the offices and laboratories bore hints of the season, be it in a stray bauble or bell on a door handle, or a bow pinned to a wall.

As you turned the corner, you did your research group’s usual routine of saluting the skeleton you permanently borrowed from the medicine department, now dressed up as Santa Claus. You were careful to not spill the tray of hot drinks you had picked up on the way as you completed the gesture. Noticing a couple more holiday cards set down on the floor under it, you hummed in approval. This was what academia was all about, folks. Slow and steady, you swiped your card on the scanner right above your office’s handle and followed with a practiced push down and shouldering of the door. This space was shared between you, and eight other fantastic researchers – all of you recent graduates, brought together by

The office was fairly large albeit bland, with space for nine desks – all in threes, with one to the far left against the wall, and two rows facing each other in the centre of the room. Each sported an ancient monitor and computer that were left unchanged because they still worked and were the only system that could be trusted with running the expensive and time-consuming simulations. A dramatic irony for any budding scientists-to-be who were all about innovation and equated research to being on a spaceship straight out of a science fiction movie. To the right was the ‘recreation station’ – a line of furniture collected from yard sales and second-hand shops, namely a duo of flimsy terrace chairs under the far window, a couch that had to undergo extensive treatment to get the stench of cigarettes out of it, and one of the better investments: a movable cupboard that housed kitchen paraphernalia and a microwave.

This was where you set down the tray, out of fear that if you were to tempt fate any longer, you were going to bring less than welcome floor decorations to the shared space. Besides, you did not want to be scolded by the resident cleanroom aesthetics activist, who was already giving you concerned glances from across the room. It was still surprisingly empty, given the time. You glanced at the clock on the wall, barely making out a 8:30AM on the dot behind the snowman face that someone taped on. You sure knew how to time your commutes down to a t. Right, time to get started.

“Good morning how is everyone doing?” you called out to the four men who had already arrived and were sleepily checking through their emails.

The chorus of greetings and friendly waves as they got out of what was a near trance was enough to remind you why you were grateful to be working here. Even on days when all of you were busy, or when life was continuously throwing stress tests, all you had to do was call out, and they would be there.

The youngest of the crew, Jongho, was quick to get up and saunter over to you. He looked expectantly at the drinks, while you took off your hat and ruffled your hair.

“Good morn’, Y/N, I see you are starting off early with the celebrations huh?”

“Never too early to pre-game, man, never too early. Here is your americano, by the way.” You turned to pick out the coffee, still piping, and passed it over to your colleague.

“Life saver, thanks.”

You watched in awe as he took a sip with a completely straight face, your own mouth feeling the ghosts of a burn. Fighting the shudder that was about to run down your body, you decided to unpack the carrier tray fully, and leave the rest of the drinks at their respective target desks. While doing so, two of your other close colleagues, Seonghwa and Yunho, approached you, pretending as though they were not about to snatch their beverages and run into hiding. You raised an eyebrow as Yunho did a little crab-like sidestep around you, having spotted his requested latte and wanting to reach for it.

“Go ahead, be my guest.”

“Thanks, and guess what, the Christmas crackers that had been delayed have arrived this morning!” he fist pumped the air as you thanked him for agreeing to sacrifice his apartment for any extra deliveries.

Once more, you turned to Seonghwa, who gave you an appreciative grin once you informed him that he was to receive a hot chocolate. Afterwards, you were quick to position the drinks on the respective four desks closest to you, saving your order and that of the man who was now standing before you, for last.

“Good morning, Y/N, thank you so much for this. Exactly what I needed.” He expressed, his musical voice washing over you.

“Good morning, Hongjoong.” You could not help but drop your voice into a half-whisper, unable to retain the previously more friendly and confident composure upon seeing his glinting eyes. Gazing at you as though, in that moment, you were the only one to exist in this space.

He pointed at the coat that you were yet to take off, inquiring “need help with that?”. You happily obliged.

He had to be the closest thing there was to an embodiment of benevolence. Ever since you had met him in your second year of university, him being your senior and assistant in one of your classes, you noticed just how natural it was for him to connect with others, make them feel seen, understood, and appreciated. He was the type of man to sacrifice time even for the smallest of troubles, and you had seen him staying late again, and again, to help your peers with their work, their projects, and on the odd occasion, life troubles.

You had been amazed his having never treated the evident exploitation in an outwardly aggressive manner, instead independently choosing to sit and answer question after question, treating them all equally and repeating himself without a single inkling of doubt that he was merely doing his job. Initially you decided that this was not for you to inquire into, Hongjoong being fully capable of figuring things out for himself as a hardworking and high-achieving student. But that decision had not lasted even an hour, as in the class you had discovered obvious signs of fatigue. When you had heard your peer question him about his personal life and he fell into an awkward silence, you took it as a green light to steal him away, practically dragging him out of the door and wildly tapping in numbers on the coffee machine. Coincidentally, it was also winter then.

Since that exact moment, you and Hongjoong had become partners in crime. You would never admit it out loud, but he had been at the forefront of your mind when choosing what you were going to do with your life after university, even though you had told yourself time and time again that there was no chance, and that you should reduce your feelings to the nanoparticles that you studied.

As much as Hongjoong was there for you, his altruism and innate ability to bring people together, to lead, had unintentionally put some distance between you. Not that he could notice. He was oblivious to how you yearned for even a minute more of his time. He was likely unaware of how he was making you feel as he helped you take off your coat, hanging it on the rack with indescribable gentleness. How you melted like a snowman in the sunlight at his small gestures, how he took great care to let you walk to your workspace first and followed you with the early morning brews. If you had to describe what he was to you, to put it simply, he was your Christmas.

In a way, he was the opposite of you. You were that loud, heart on your sleeve type, bouncing off the walls if the energy in the room was right and sinking into the darkest brooding if you were to sense it. For the most part, you had figured out how to convert this energy into high octane work fuel, and no matter if you were going up or down on the roller coaster that was life, you found a way to use it. Be it by burning the midnight oil and letting cortisol guide you writing your thesis (which you had scolded Hongjoong for before, but he had graduated by the time the honour was bestowed upon you, so he did not have to know), or by repeating that everything was going to turn out okay like a mantra. You laboured away at bending the natural twists and turns of the ride, which was so unlike Hongjoong, that you could not help but be drawn to him and his inimitable openness.

You were one to feel hard and deeply, no matter how hard you tried to supress it. And this was both a curse and a blessing. To your advantage, you could enjoy the small moments, like you and four of the eight wonderful people who you had the honour of calling your friends after some time working together, sitting in the quietude of a cosy office that acted as your base of operations. Much to your disadvantage, you were very acute to Hongjoong’s presence immediately to your right, as he pushed his seated form closer to you. The rolling chairs hit one another with a soft thud as he leaned further forward to position his elbow securely on the desk and rest his head on the palm of his hand.

“Are you looking forward to the party tonight?” for a split second his voice sounded almost desperate, as though he was searching for something, or seeking confirmation. Any worry that you might have caught on his features quickly dispelled, however, as you mirrored his position and responded, studying him.

“Of course, I am. Getting to celebrate my favourite season with my favourite people, what more could I ask for?” you were not going to mention that you were looking forward to seeing Hongjoong sporting an ugly Christmas sweater, as commanded by the mutually agreed dress code, though you had no doubt that he would be able to pull anything off. On Halloween he managed to make a Despicable Me minion-inspired costume look a bit too good.

“Probably for your secret Santa to have actually taken their job seriously this year around, unlike-”

“Hey, Mingi was… considerate.” You interjected but failed to make a strong point as you recalled the hilarious combination of a nachos packet and a box of tissues, wrapped in paper that insinuated it was suddenly your birthday.

Whilst Hongjoong had been mortified, and Mingi was stock still, ears burning, the rest of the group had a blast breaking down into a laughing fit that had returned many times over the evening. This selection had obviously been made just after an event three days before the exchange, when you had knocked into Hongjoong full force, making him spill distilled water over much of your top.

“If you say so, but I bet this year is going to be much more exciting,” he winked. Luckily, he did not spot you stiffen at the action, as he was momentarily distracted by a notification, alerting him of a meeting he had to attend soon.

“Do you know who my secret Santa is, by any chance?” you tried, fluttering your eyelashes in a playful manner. He hummed, and lightly shook his head in disapproval, though his lips were curling into an adorable smile.

“Ah, I cannot neither confirm nor deny that, besides why would I ruin the anticipation? Patience is a virtue, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Says the guy who literally tried to speed run the preparation of a colloidal solution.” Seonghwa chided, looking over from his seat at the two of you, causing Hongjoong to make a sharp turn in his chair and argue that ‘it was an experiment and that he wanted to see what would happen just once’.

This was the never-ending debate of your office, so intrinsic to its function that you all ended up agreeing to set aside parts of the official group budget and of any new funding for something you had deemed ‘chaos expenses’ or, as once kindly called by Yeosang when someone had tampered with the electron microscope, ‘dipshit insurance’. You laughed at the exchange between the oldest members of your group, an unbeknownst to you, sent a shimmering light into your brunette deskmate’s chest.

He would do anything to hear your melodic laugh, or to watch your features soften as you let go of any stress that had plagued you. Thus, he had taken great pains to work behind the scenes for you, be it intercepting some unnecessary paperwork or figuring out laboratory access times for the entire team so that you could have your favourite slots. Sure, these were acts that benefitted everyone, but only your ‘thank you Joongie’ remained with him. The first thing he had taken note about you was just how valuable time was for you. How you spent it, where you spent it, with whom. So, he did the best he could to try to give you time that, as of late, had become his worst enemy.

In a way, you were the opposite of him. Whilst Hongjoong was one to strive for attempting every single thing in the book that was to do with whatever his passion was at a given point in time, you were one to be highly selective and strategic in your decision-making. As soon as he had spotted you in that one class for which he tutored, you gave off the impression of someone who already had everything figured out, or at least carried themselves very well, head held high and prepared to fight for what you wanted.

On the days when he doubted himself, Hongjoong would refer to himself as a jack of all trades, but master of none. The jack who never quite got why you had asked for his help in tutoring you anyways, but oh how grateful he was. You had appeared beside him, a saving grace, when he was about to collapse after over twenty-four hours of no sleep, vision blurry, struggling to process a single phrase. He could put up a powerful front, sure, and when he had presented his research at conferences, or was a representative of the university, and then the institute at various exhibitions and open days he was commended for his eloquence and ability to draw a crowd in. But that was what it was – a front. As soon as he was back to his and Seonghwa’s shared apartment, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and enjoy a steaming cup of coffee and let his mind wander. Reassess his work, seek unique paths to innovation, imagine what discoveries lied out there, waiting for him. To him, ironically, science was an art.

In his eyes, you were what should be under the word ‘scientist’ or ‘researcher’ in the dictionary. Every bit a logistician, you were the goal setter, the ambitious future leader. Leaving the experimental work to your collaborators, you were one to seek rationality and clear-cut formulas, to describe phenomena once and for all. You were driven to find truth in mystery, and positioned yourself as someone who was patient, strong-willed and would not veer off a path you had your mind set on. He had observed that you were equally as selective with who you were to allow to be part of your closer social circle, and very clearly knew your likes and dislikes.

This was why Hongjoong was confident that his blooming feelings were one sided. It was a dreamer versus grounded realist situation, but the dreamer could not help but fall. And fall deep. If he had to describe you in the spirit of the season, you would be a winter night. Freshly fallen snow, illuminated by fairy lights strung on pines next to whimsical brick houses, from which peered the domesticated fashionistas, adorned by baubles and garlands. You were the silent night, calm and bright.

When he had drawn your name out of the Santa hat that San was approaching everyone with a mere three weeks ago, dread filled him to the brim. It was the first time, since he had come to terms with his not so platonic feelings towards you, that he was being given the chance to give you something. And he was not going to let this slide as a silly tradition that was meant to be there for laughs and eventually, for the gift. No, he wanted something bigger, something that would be valuable to you, or at least make you reminisce.

After a bombardment of your respective inboxes by yet another email chain from one of the seniors, both of you settled down to get to work, pausing only to greet the late comers who had collectively groaned in discontent, comically lamenting the now lukewarm drinks. As you typed you took glances at Hongjoong out of the corner of your eye as he reviewed some notes he stored in a tattered manila folder, delicate ring-adorned hands flicking through the pages. It was easy to fall for the undivided attention he was capable of giving. It was especially easy for you, being someone who could not stop rushing, with a permanent tunnel vision. This was why you loved Christmas, and at this time of year, wanted to believe in miracles.

Hongjoong could sense your intermittent observation with his half-turned body and prayed you would not notice the light nervous tremor he was battling to hide. Albeit it was barely there, like snowflakes ending their dance on warm gloved hands, it was enough to envelop him and make him lose sense, anchoring only to your strong and sanguine being. As he began to gather his belongings and gave you and his friends a light wave to signify his departure to meet with his supervisor, his mind travelled to tonight.

During the year when the entire group had begun working together, and moved into the office, the door of which he had just propped open, by a shared initiative and the lack of desire to drift home to their families earlier than necessary, they had organised a new tradition for themselves. A break from the regular holiday routine in the form of a friendly get-together, with specially curated Christmas playlists, movies, mulled wine (perhaps a little bit too much mulled wine), and every other practice or interpretation that they could think of. So far, there had only been two such events, but not a single one of the large friend group could imagine celebrating in any other fashion.

This year, the festivities were bound to be different for Hongjoong. This year he was finally not foolish enough to deny that all of his wishes were dedicated to you, and that he wanted to be more than background music, more than someone on the side lines to you. Though you sat side by side, saw each other more often than the comfort of your own homes, this type of closeness was not enough for him. Hongjoong could imagine a barrier between you and him, a construction of whosever doing. He was sure you did not need him.

Much as you were sure he had never attributed anything aside from common courtesy and platonic affection to you.

Both you and Hongjoong, unbeknownst to one another, were wishing for the same thing this Christmas.

There was a major change of setting for the party from last year, when the nine of you had been crammed into the apartment that San and Wooyoung shared. By a stroke of pure luck, an uncle of Seonghwa’s had decided to travel abroad for the entire duration of the holidays, and upon hearing that his nephew was to be celebrating with what was presented to him as ‘highly professional company’, offered to give free reign of a cottage outside of the capital to the group. Under Seonghwa’s strict supervision, of course, but that went without mention.

After the clock had striked the mandatory early end to your workday, the group had scrambled to make it in time for the train, arriving at the station with only minutes to spare, and wading through swarms of travellers about to make similar journeys. The near miss had sent you reeling, but you bit back the string of curses and melted into bliss once you had taken in the shared optimistic mood of the crowd. Somehow, even the slow walkers with monstrous suitcases that were ready to burst did not phase you as you sank into your seat by the window.

You glossed over the platform and antique buildings that lined the tracks as the train departed. Previously polluted and unsightly, with soot caking the ventilators and any stone within immediate line of fire from the screeching train brakes, it was now laying under a blanket of glistening white, dormant until the winter chose to retire.

Hongjoong was equally mesmerised, peering over your form while unzipping his hefty bag to take out a camera. It was a vintage number, one he had stumbled across during a trip to an artisan market, and after tinkering with it for what had turned out to be a total of two months, selected it for this trip.

He was adamant, even being questioned repeatedly why he had an affinity for a camera that required film whilst he was working on nano electronics, that this camera was the best way to tell the story of the next couple of days the group was staying at the cottage. And he knew that you would be the first to understand.

As you pressed yourself into your seat to let Hongjoong snap a picture, took his concentration on the scenery behind the viewfinder as amble time to regard and commit the artist behind the camera to memory. How a stubborn lock of rich onyx locks hovered right over his soft brow, having made its escape out of the woolen hat he wore. How his glasses with a delicate golden frame suited his sculpted face perfectly, even tilted down to give way to the apparatus in his steady hands. He was one for keeping memories, snapshots to highlight the priceless instances that others plead for in times of need.

"Stay like that for a second." His dulcet tone took you out of your daze, and you shook your head in embarrassment, realising that he probably caught you ogling him.

"What?"

"Just do it for me, please?" He repeated himself, camera at the ready.

"Oh, come on, don't waste film."

"Who says waste? You'd be the best part." He whispered, unable to return your scrutiny and studying the leather detailing on the body of the camera.

"Cringe, but I'll let it slide." You finally uttered, laughing airily, and striking a pose.

Right when you were in motion, not a thought in mind except about the anticipation of the celebration ahead, Hongjoong snapped a segment of that joy, more satisfied than he let on.

Playful, you shifted in your seat and moved to place your hands over his. You were likely pushing it, but with the seasonal buzz fuelling you, your usual stoicism and preference to influence others with words only, could be stored. Despite the fact that you were of the opinion that you were not right for Hongjoong, and that you did not possess the delicate, nurturing aura he deserved, you were enticed by competition and challenge. Seeing him be friendly to others, going from meeting to meeting to appease even those who had much to learn from him, made you want to fight for his attention. You wanted him to be captivated by you, and you alone.

You took pleasure in his widening eyes and lips parting, as though in longing. It almost made you believe that he too, wanted something more than just the normal chatter about the superficial that you shared, and his avoidance of being in the same room for extended periods of time when it was just the two of you. As his orbs dashed from left to right, up and down, you scanned every part of his oh so irresistible face, and only shared with him a smirk to describe your intentions. In a blink you pried the prized possession out of his slackened grasp and in one swipe got the attached strap over his head. Simultaneously, all hints of the near sadistic taunting evaporated, and you were back to being an upbeat, jolly passenger on her way to indulge in festivities.

"Now you. Pose, Joongie!"

Your transition from an overwhelmingly intense stare down to now giggling and instructing him, singsong and almost childish, drove Hongjoong wild. It was as though under your outwardly collected and amiable demeanour there was a turbulent river, dangerously alluring and intoxicating. Much to his dismay, the moments you let this side of yourself shine through were few and far between, as rare as a blue moon.

It had not been the first time he had encountered this version of you, however. The first, one he did not need photographs of to burn into his retinas, was when he had completely forgotten about his promise to attend the institute-wide New Year's party last year, instead remaining in one of the laboratories, immersed in modelling the design of a nano robot that had been giving him much trouble.

When it was already approaching an hour before the monumental strike of midnight, you had appeared off to his side like a shadow, a lab coat loosely draped over your shoulders and, underneath it, revealing a breathtaking cerulean blue dress that highlighted all of your best features. He gulped. You were beautiful. So beautiful that it left him terrified.

Placing your manicured hands on his stiffened shoulders, you had purred in his ear, demanding he were to join you that instant at the party, adding that it was lonely without him, especially in a sea of tipsy researchers. He had not dared to even try saying anything in response, having become impossibly malleable putty under the challenging, unreadable once-over you gave him that he swore burned his skin.

And when during the party itself you had rapidly disappeared from his company, busying yourself with entertaining far too many of his colleagues for his liking, he came to the revelation that the one who he had considered to be his younger colleague, an ambitious professional who he had enjoyed working with and had a bond with all the way from his evolution through university, had control over his very being.

After that night, all he could envision when you approached him in the laboratories was that New Year’s. Hongjoong was afraid of just how much he yearned for your touch and for your command, directed at him, unintentionally sultry. So, he had made it a point to try use his friends as buffers between him and you, even though it was going against all that he wanted and needed and led to the others figuring out pretty quickly that he was not indifferent.

The first had been Seonghwa, who, admittedly, did well in maintaining his composure when Hongjoong grew undeniably shy around you, but then made the great mistake of mentioning the tension in the lab offhandedly to the resident chaos bringers. And once San and Wooyoung knew, everybody knew. Except you, because what would be the fun in that, right? A couple of times he had been threatened with being locked in a closet with you until he confessed, mainly by Jongho who sat on the other side of him in the office and was fed up with the dynamic that his recently single self did not want to deal with. Every time Hongjoong fought back with promises to confess later, and later, until now, nearing exactly a year since, he felt almost out of time. There was an urgency in his actions in the weeks approaching tonight, and your teasing wasn’t helping at all.

He swallowed his desire to close the space between you, and mimicked how you had posed for him, causing another chuckle. Soon enough, he too, was immortalised in that roll of film, your two photographs as mirror images of one another.

The rest of the journey outside the capital had passed as smoothly as it could, since you did not have to suffer the fate of being sat in front of or behind any of your rowdier friends, namely the discord duo and two of the tallest members of your group, who only needed a small catalyst to turn into hilarious menaces. They had occupied a four-seater with a table on the other side of the carriage and, after Yunho revealed a set of Cards Against Humanity that he had hidden in his mini suitcase, were now cackling uncontrollably at round after round. Eventually, Yeosang, who had previously been fully immersed in daydreaming with his noise-cancelling headphones on, decided to join them, and left the group dumbfounded at his beating San’s five-point lead.

Jongho was right behind you, typing without a minute’s pause on his laptop, and Seonghwa, who had occupied aisle seat behind Hongjoong, was in his own world, disconnected from the turmoil two metres away from him, probably zoning out to ASMR. The entire ride was dedicated to you and your seatmate, and after running out of things that you and him in your positively excited, but nervous states had deemed appropriate to discuss, agreed to share earphones and listen to some festive jams to set the mood. Soon enough, you were both quiet, with Mariah Carey’s hit taking on a slightly different meaning than last season.

“Wooyoung, please be careful and don’t fall down from the table. As much as I do enjoy cleaning I don’t want to clean a crime scene-” Seonghwa’s voice rang out across the house as preparations for the party were in full swing.

“I DO WHAT I WANT, MOM! And I am doing important work here, look at this beauty!” the younger retorted after putting finishing touches on the festive arrangement he decided to do on the living room chandelier, and hopping down from the piece of furniture, spiderman style.

You had to admit, it did not look terrible, though perhaps just a tad garish. At least he tried. You shrugged to yourself and turned back to place the final bauble on the Christmas tree that Jongho had been tasked to find and lug to the cottage as soon as you all had arrived.

The cottage was located on the outskirts of a small town, though even saying outskirts made the settlement appear much larger than it was in reality. It consisted of houses dotted around the wintery landscape and some clusters built up closer to the station and the high street - a single line dedicated to all forms of shopping and recreation now converted into a quaint Christmas market. The residents had not disappointed when it can to decoration either, with their porches and roofs made to look as though the walls were supposed to be made of gingerbread. When the group was making the trek to Seonghwa’s uncle’s vacant abode, you had also spotted a church a little further out, its gothic spires appearing to pierce the rapidly darkening sky and stained glass glowing from what had to be a myriad of candles within. This location looked to be a perfect holiday hallmark movie set.

As soon as you all dropped off your belongings in various rooms, with you being given the honour of having your own one, everyone got to work. The plan of operations, consisting of phases and checkpoints, was under administration of the two eldest, and yourself in the role of what Mingi had called ‘vibe control’, seeing as you were deemed the most festive of the lot considering how overjoyed you were to discover the utter beauty of the place where you were to stay the next few days. Phase one, which was performing a last minute venture to buy up drinks and food and, the crucial element - the tree, had been successful, and transitioned into Seonghwa and a snacking Yeosang cooking up a storm, Jongho and Yunho totally not trying to trip each other up into the deep snow while hanging decorations on the cottage’s façade, and the rest of you running around from room to room, leaving traces of glitter in random nooks and crannies as you tried to not totally ruin the otherwise tasteful interior design with festive visual noise.

For the most part, it ended up looking well put together, and you were proud of the Christmas tree that had been mostly your focus. Aside from the moment when Hongjoong approached you, beaming, a cardboard box in his hands.

“Is this a bomb?”

“Yes, totally, as if Christmas hasn’t already exploded in this house.” He countered, stretching his arms further out to hand the box to you.

“Good point. Then what-” you stopped mid-sentence as you revealed a set of what looked to be homemade tree décor. Test tubes and miniature conical flasks corked up and containing liquids and suspensions of various vivid hues. The creator of the set had to have been skilled, as the corks had very neatly attached metal eyelets, to which the much-needed strings were tied. You hooked one out of the box with your finger and admired how the shade of the contents changed with the flashing lights you had wrapped around the tree.

“Where did you find this?”

“I made it.”

“WHAT?” you shrieked, instantly covering your mouth as you did not want anyone to join in on your conversation just yet. Thankfully, at the same time the front door was flung open and the duo who had been outside ambled in, arguing about something to do with phosphorescence versus fluorescence.

Hongjoong, cheerful, was more than pleased with your reaction. During one of the events hosted in early December by the department head, you had been impressed by an arrangement of clamps that were positioned in a tree-like formation, each one holding a colourful test tube. He had wanted to replicate that moment, that sensation, for you, and so spent a week sprawled on the floor of his bedroom, gluing things together and practically recreating Heisenberg’s lab in his kitchen to make the substances. He had striked exclusively under the cover of night, which had scared Seonghwa out of his wits when he was awoken by the rumble of the kitchen extractor fan and strolled in to discover Hongjoong fully decked out in a face mask, goggles, silicon gloves, and pyjamas with teddy bears on them.

“You are going to take a photo of this beauty after we are done right?” You were ready to give him countless pecks on his cheeks with how adorable he looked blushing.

“Sure.”

“Let’s make this a chemis-tree then. Help?” You passed the test tube you were holding to him and set the box down carefully on the ground between you. In comfortable silence, you two moved around the tree, occasionally handing items across, in a tranquil symbiosis.

Hongjoong savoured the moments you accidentally brushed your hands with his, and inadvertently took in the light scent of your perfume as you snaked around him to re-hang a bauble in the shape of an angel. He wouldn’t be able to guess what brand it was even if he tried, but what he was sure of was just how well it suited you. With white floral top notes giving way to something much deeper and darker, it was your daring magnetism in a bottle. A stark contrast to the sweater you were wearing – a red, grey, and white combination with a design depicting reindeers dashing through the snow, with some hearts and trees dotted around along with ornate bands at the cuffs, base, and collar. You truly embodied a variety of contrasts, an enigma that drew him in.

You hovered for a moment, deep in thought as you spun the angel with your fingers, letting a sigh escape you as you hung it on a not yet overloaded part of the tree.

“What’s up?” Hongjoong was curious, seeing that the little toy had evoked a new emotion in you.

“Just remembered how when I was a kid, I loved to make snow angels. Like, really loved it. Did not care how deep the snow was, just let me lie in it and I was happy.” You recounted fondly while Hongjoong turned his shoulders to completely face you. Standing closer than friends should be.

“Let’s do it, then.” He was feeling courageous, wanting to repay you for your flirtations on the train ride to the cottage. You laughed, lightly tapping his shoulder.

“I think I am too old to do that sober now, need a bit more Dutch courage to go hop in a snowdrift.”

“I’ll make sure to give you a big mug of mulled wine then, angel.” He informed; his expression rather coy. You liked this kind of Hongjoong. Not wanting to drop the tension, you took the tiniest step forward, and murmured, low and slow:

“You go down with me, darling.”

Before Hongjoong could respond to your concealed provocation, a yell from an incredibly vexed Seonghwa near deafened you.

“WHO THE FUCK TURNED ELF ON THE SHELF INTO A STRIPPER? I SWEAR WOO IF IT WAS YOU, I WILL REARRANGE YOU LIKE A LEGO SET-”

“YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE!”

Now that sounded about right for a domestic, festive scene. You and Hongjoong immediately began to search for the exhibit, finding it at the top of the stairs, where an innocent elf was made to be wrapped around one of the railings in a suggestive pose, and when a flash of bright red hair zoomed past you with an ashen blonde ball of anger following right behind, you guffawed, not stopping until your ribs began to hurt.

Poor Seonghwa had yet to find the other elves that were set out in unconventional poses and hidden in random places around the house. You personally had spotted one inside the bathroom cabinet and decided to let it be. Out of sight out of mind. An act commended by San who was tiptoeing out of one of the bedrooms, three more elves dangling from his clenched fist. He had simply given you a nod and placed his free index finger to his lips, which you did too in response, tapping a couple of times to show solidarity.

After the wave of life-or-death tag, and the gathering of the entire group in the living room, with Mingi having finally come down after napping through the majority of the prep, you breezed through setting the table, arranging Secret Santa gifts under the tree by transferring them from a grocery store bag that had been hanging on the office door for a week to avoid anyone having any clues, and then, finally, getting to sit down, take a deep breath, and simply enjoy.

Every bit of this was incredible. The food, the company, heck, even the stripper elf that Seonghwa ended up not having the heart to take down because ‘he did not want to be a Scrooge’. It was obvious that with every passing hour, the buzz was getting to you all, as the chatter was getting louder and louder, the jokes more and more ridiculous, and the questions more and more personal.

You were amidst an animated conversation with Yeosang about wanting to try snowboarding sometime and planning an imaginary trip to some mountain range far away when you were suddenly called for by Wooyoung, who was sitting at the far end of the table from you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he slurred a little, having been ‘taste-testing’ the spiced brew since before dinner, “are you dating anyone?” Yeosang grimaced, mouthing a ‘good luck’ to you, knowing that once Wooyoung entered his relationship talk state, he was near unstoppable unless some extreme topic change was made.

“Bro your boyfriend is sitting right next to you, and no thank you I don’t want a threesome.” You quipped, inducing a ripple of chuckles across the group. But Wooyoung would not let up, even though San was repeatedly nudging him under the table.

“Nooo… you know what I mean. Just generally. Like, do you have a designated mistletoe partner?” you did not like where this was going. Not one bit. Hongjoong, who was sitting on the other side of the table, right in front of you, visibly tensed, alarm bells ringing in his head.

“Uh, not at the moment.” You could not exactly lie, nor did you want to, seeing as the person you would not mind taking that role was right there, and for some reason looked oddly fearful.

“Great!” He exclaimed, and in a matter of seconds was standing on his chair, bending over the entire table, holding a mistletoe branch�� over the table and not so discreetly changing its angle from you to Hongjoong, and back again.

You locked gazes. Panic rose in your throat. You did not enjoy this feeling; control being taken away from you, your friend toppling you over and shining a spotlight on you. And now a metaphorical knife was being wedged into your heart from having to witness what you perceived to be as total unwillingness in Hongjoong’s every fibre. Did you want this? Yes. Like this? Hell no.

Seconds passed like hours of torture, and each sound seemed to have amplified thousand-fold in volume. Lost, you were unable to decide your next course of action. Logic, your go-to for any situation, had failed. Emotions were a wreck. Oh, how you wanted this to stop. Anything you had hoped for until this moment shattered before you, scattering agonising pieces in all directions.

Was this his chance? It must be. Had he been sitting next to you, the space would have been no more in an instant. But the separation, once again that damn barrier, now also in physical form was preventing him from following through with what he wanted to express. This did not mean that he did not think Wooyoung had pulled a dick move, especially towards you, but Hongjoong had imagined what it would be like kissing you under the mistletoe. Wishful thinking, it seemed. All he could read across the table was discontent, and the recoil unlike that of a cat’s. He was running out of the time that he had wanted to give you.

Before either of you could do anything, Wooyoung gave out a yelp and almost toppled onto the remnants of dinner, saved only by a very quick to react San, who wrapped his arms around the slipping legs and weighed them down. Everyone was quick to turn their heads to the culprit – Jongho who was sitting unperturbed, arms crossed over his chest. Yeosang had been the saving grace, whispering for the youngest to figure something out in ‘Jongho style’. So, taking one of the apples from the fruit bowl, he took aim and hurled it with all his might where the sun did not shine.

“My bad bro, I hit the wrong head.”

Wooyoung was doubled over, and the mistletoe was lying all but forgotten among the randomly arranged side dishes. Seonghwa was failing to stifle a satisfied laugh, while Mingi was quite literally gasping for air, hiding his face in the tablecloth as Yunho was rubbing his back, a grin on his face. You let out a breath you did not know you were holding, and you absent-mindedly picked at your sweater.

“Right!” Hongjoong clapped to get everybody’s attention, wishing for nothing more than to move on from this ordeal. “How about before we get too drunk, we do the gift exchange, yeah? And DJ-Mingi, blast the tunes a little louder, it’s Christmas after all.” He pointed at the taller male, who was currently wiping tears from his eyes, still breathing heavy from the fit of giggles.

“Aye aye, captain!” he saluted and in a couple of strides was at the Bluetooth speakers, which now began blasting Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.

As everyone got up and headed to the huge u-shaped sofa, something stopped you. Mystified, you noticed that the mistletoe branch was gone.

The incident was brushed over soon enough, and the group was now losing their minds over each other’s gifts. This year, there was a very interesting mix of both humour gifts and genuinely meaningful statements, but that was to be expected from a Secret Santa where one of the rules was to ‘go ham’.

Yeosang wiped his forehead in mock relief as he was safe from torment: he received a giftcard to his favourite fried chicken delivery place and a t-shape tool for his skateboard – an ode to his most popular complaint being that the wheels did not feel right, or he swore he had to replace something. Yunho wasn’t quite so lucky, on the other hand, having received a tub of Vaseline with a printed note taped onto it that read ‘for the times that your supervisor fucks you over’ – it was a known fact that his supervisor, an elderly and angry man in his sixties, was notoriously hard to impress, and at this point probably made Yunho lose too many nerve cells.

You were Seonghwa’s Santa this year and tried your best not to show your delight at him basically bouncing on the sofa as he unwrapped the set of holiday-themed lint rollers that you had bought. Then, it was your turn and your friends followed your movements as you searched under the Christmas tree to pick out the gift with your name. Sitting back down on the couch, you spun it in your hands. The container was two centimetres thick and square in shape, leaving you perplexed as to what was behind the wrapping. You initially thought it could be an album by an artist you had been raving about recently but had to delete that from your mind considering it would be way over budget. You peeled away the washi tape that was holding the paper together to be met by a wooden box.

Turning it the right way around, you lifted the lid, and gasped. Inside was a necklace – a thin thread-like gold chain, and on it an intricate pendant – a tiny clock, its hands frozen on eight thirty. You were overwhelmed, but from your lips rolled out one word of gratitude after another. You ignored a now tipsy Mingi booing and calling out that it was probably over budget. Maybe you would have agreed seeing as that was technically a rule but shit, you were over the moon. You flipped the pendant around and spotted a message engraved into the back, so small that it was barely there – only for you to cherish and hold close to your heart.

Forever is composed of nows.

Emily Dickinson, you note. A poem you had quoted, time and time again. But not to just any audience. You look up, cautious. The gift unwrapping had moved on, with Jongho currently being the centre of attention, so you use the chance to seek out the one who you were sure was your Secret Santa. And sure enough, his attention was already on you. As you had wished so many times. Kim Hongjoong. Your Christmas.

He was praying that you would like the present. To the point of mumbling to himself and flittering his fingers over the throw on top of which he was seated. The idea had come to him when he had to stay late in the office, waiting for a response from his supervisor, who he had no idea had already left for the night. As minutes turned into an hour, and the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock, with the outdoor noise having been absorbed by yet another snowfall, the pieces came together.

This quote encapsulated you both. On the one hand, you enjoyed it because the notion of ‘now’ being the way to shape the intangible future motivated you to remain organised, diligent, and focused on a specific path. On the other hand, he respected it for the interpretation that this forever had so many parts that it was crucial to not waste them on fixation and if they were to be captured, it was through the lenses of his beloved cameras. This collection of five words stuck a balance between Hongjoong and yourself, and explained that maybe, you were not quite so different after all.

The rest of the guys were tidying up the wrapping paper and some headed to the kitchen to carry the pot of mulled wine and the saucer, along with a champagne bottle Yeosang had produced out of the blue. You and Hongjoong let this particular ‘now’ continue for a little longer, knowing smiles on your faces, and the previous awkwardness over dinner erased. As you held onto the open box containing the invaluable message, you sauntered over to him.

“Thank you.”

He bit his lip as he lifted his head.

“May I?”

“Yes please.”

You turned and exposed your neck to him, moving your luscious hair to the side. Again, those black patchouli base notes that filled his head with only you. Hongjoong could finally pinpoint the rest of the bouquet, having recalled his housemate explaining the terminology after he had splurged on a luxury cologne and was trying to explain himself. He reached to take the necklace from the box, and not so accidentally caressed the sensitive skin as he clasped the lock. You explained that you wanted to see how it looked, so the two of you made a beeline for the full-length mirror at the entrance into the cottage.

You were inspecting the necklace in the mirror, still in shock at how it spoke volumes, nearing an inexplicable divinity. His body moving on its own accord, Hongjoong, who was standing behind you, gently placed his hands on your hips, and breath hot against your ear, complimented:

“I knew it would look brilliant on you.”

Your attention drifted back to Hongjoong, locking gazes with him through the mirror. He was all smiles, but for a split second you spotted something much more passionate. Intrigued, you wanted to test how far you could go before the man would snap. You were never one to back down from a game like this.

“Thank you, though I don’t think these clothes do it justice.”

“Hm?” you felt his grip tighten just a little, as his eyes shifted to your necklace once more.

“You know, maybe without them it would look even better, don’t you think?”

And there it was. The darkness only you could lure out from deep within him. A distant howl turned into a thunder, rolling across his body in waves. A man ready to do anything to drown in the turbulent river that had tantalised him for so long. A man lost in the silent night, at the beck and call of your voice that haunted him wherever he went. Hongjoong let out a shaky breath, his chest almost flush against your back as he held his head over your shoulder, level and mirroring yours.

“Do you know what you do to me?”

You smirked. He was still so heedful of you, navigating your ever-changing maze ever so slowly. But now, unlike before, you had a guarantee that the Hongjoong you had deemed to be attentive to everyone was, in fact, at your feet. You could finally read how he behaved around you. The adorable shyness, the inability to be alone with you for too long… it all made sense. Cute, precious Hongjoong. It was probably not the best conclusion to come to, but you felt powerful. Until the young man suddenly gripped your waist and spun you around, pulling you towards him until his face was so close you could count his beautiful lashes, study the intricate patterns of his irises, clouded over with emotion he had never revealed before, enticing you. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded and lips wet with his saliva.

“I’ll repeat myself, angel. Do you know what you do to me?” the pet name that had stuck with him since when you had decorated the Christmas tree slipped out, making you exhale sharply. You were enjoying this. Boy was getting braver.

You shifted the dynamic once more as you raised the hand that was not loosely holding the box and cupped Hongjoong’s chin, feeling him gulp at your boldness. You pulled away from him slightly, but only to observe as you traced his bottom lip with your thumb. It was so easy to make him melt once, after all these years, you appeared to have figured out the chemistry of Hongjoong. He shuddered under your touch, one hand drifting down back to your hip, attempting to press you against him, which you deny with a teasing poke of the box square in his chest.

“I can make an educated guess, darling.” Two could play the game as you enunciated the words so that each one fuelled his desire. Your index finger trailed under his chin, terminating the sensation with an instantaneous flick.

He groaned, desperate to end this push and pull once and for all, when you completely freed yourself while his mind was still enchanted. You had heard the others, still in the living room, getting louder, with someone loudly asking where you went. As if nothing at all had happened, you gave Hongjoong a lopsided grin and pointed at the doorway, informing him that everyone was waiting. Like hell they were, probably took notice of the absence at random and would have forgotten it then and there. As you ambled away, he bent over, stretching to try easing the unbearable tension under which he had been, thanks to you. Once more, he looked in the mirror, running a hand through his hair a couple of times, and yet the only thing he could see was your reflection.

Much of the rest of the night was dedicated to letting completely loose. Just like that night last year, you were purposefully oblivious to him tracking your every move. Paid no mind to just how attractive you looked, dancing to the pulsating beat of a song by The Weeknd that someone decided to put on. Evidently, champagne had started pouring. The night was turning into a blur for Hongjoong, as he struggled to process his actions. He had to plan something. And that something had to happen sooner rather than later.

He chose to slink away from the room right when now a very drunk San, Wooyoung and Seonghwa were recreating the infamous dance from Mean Girls to Jingle Bell Rock, laughter roaring in his ears and with his departure he finally managed to get you to turn and face him. He beckoned you to come to him with a wave of a hand, and turned to exit into the entrance.

When you followed and joined him, you found he was in the process of zipping up his winter jacket, having already tugged on all the woollen accessories.

“Where are you going? Stuff is wild in there.” You approached him to try and take his hat off, but he sidestepped towards the front door and silently motioned for you to dress up as well. Confused, but too interested to see the outcome of this bewildering proposal, you agreed.

When you signalled that you were ready by giving Hongjoong a double thumbs up, he grabbed the keys from a nearby counter and opened the door letting a chilly breeze hit you. You swore your mind was going through a thousand calculations a picosecond as you were trying to figure out the intentions of the man in front of you. This Christmas was definitely not like any other. As he walked further and further away from the cottage, until the lights emanating from the décor and from within did not hit the snow and you were hidden away from sight by a couple of evergreens, you repeated the quote that was now above your chest to yourself, letting go and trusting the man who was leading you into the landscape.

He stopped, waited until you caught up to him and were standing right next to him. And then, fell right on his back. You squealed in terror, assuming the worst. You peered at him, but were met with a very happy Hongjoong, who spread his limbs into a star shape, and began to wave them around. When you did not move, he stopped and shouted out, disappointment laced through his words.

“Y/N, didn’t you say you were a pro at making snow angels? Show me what you got.”

And just like that, you were also in the snow, giggling like the child you had been when you had done this last. Flailing around, kicking bits up in the air only for it to fall on you or him. You relished in the sensation, since it reminded you of something you had intentionally been repressing for the majority of your life – the ability to enjoy yourself freely, experience things that were not planned ahead and treating your existence as an ongoing work of art.

You were knocked out of your reveries with a snowball landing smack on your nose. You had not realised that Hongjoong had already gotten up and was aiming for another shot. It was on. You skillfully rolled away as he threw the winter weapon, picking up your own ammo as you did so. Once you were on your back again, the snowball was ready, and you got a clean headshot, having aimed for the sowed-on tag on his hat. As he was brushing snowflakes out of his eyes, you rose to your feet, hopping away and throwing two more roughly shaped ones. The game did not continue for long, though, because as you took some return hits you pounced on him, with the plan of attaining payback for the first snowball.

Both of you toppled on the ground and you laughed triumphantly, your body flat against his, nose to nose. While you were trying to push yourself up and get a grip on the ground to either side of Hongjoong, he pulled something out of the breast pocket of his winter jacket, raised it above the two of you, and pointed at it.

“Would you look at that? Guess we have to do something about it. Got any ideas?”

This man was unbelievable. That was one point on the endless list of why you were smitten.

“So that is where the mistletoe went!” you exclaimed, slowly leaning in.

“And this time I am not letting you go.” His promise sounding gruff, he pulled you in by the collar and finally, your lips collided.

The snow that had fallen from your clothing onto him rapidly melted as you sank deeper into the mutual craving. Starting slow, you got to know one another, keen to map out each sigh. You had fantasised about this for so long that it felt like you were in a feverish daydream. But nothing could compare to the real softness of his lush lips, the irresistible nips at yours and how he snaked under your coat and sweater, the coldness sending you into a frenzy.

As you repositioned yourself to gain more closeness, and as such grinded against him, you heard him hiss. He responded to your motion by pulling you closer and, his lips never leaving yours, tilting your head slightly to beg for entrance. You hummed in approval, mouth opening slightly to allow for his tongue to explore your further. Not letting him enjoy all the fun, you joined in the fight for dominance and savoured his addictive taste.

As you pulled away to catch your breath, Hongjoong looked completely at your mercy. Eyes still shut, panting, flushed and filled with want. He was beyond saving, left only as a vessel to be guided by you. There, illuminated by the moon and stars, you were ethereal. Your every angle and shapely curve was one he wanted to adore and worship. Your form, hovering above him, was nothing short of flawless. At the same time, within, you concealed a lethal sin, but one for which he would fall countless times, and willingly sacrifice himself for good. Your melodic laugh rang out over him.

“We are going to freeze out here-” You stated, unable to finish the thought as Hongjoong pulled you in again, growling against your lip and pushing himself against you. You sighed in pleasure as he dragged your scarf down to reveal your neck and planted rough kisses trailing from your jawline, stopping to claim you midway down. As you leaned over and peppered the side of his face with attention and nibbled his ear, sending a shiver through him, you stopped to purr:

“Though it seems you know a way to warm up.”

“You are a devil in disguise, Y/N.”

“Yours truly.”

“Mine?”

“And so are you.”

“Oh, come here.”

This was the kind of Christmas you were willing to enjoy every time of year. Together with the one who completed you in every way imaginable. From your ambition to his artistry, your tendency for timeliness to his tendency for timelessness.

Whilst you were opposites in some ways, you struck an unparalleled balance that made you stronger together. An enciphered, irreplicable chemistry that spelled ‘forever’.

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