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gotta-winwin · 1 month ago

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(☎️) ... merry christmas, please don't call

⭐ starring: seungcheol

☎️ preview: The toughest part about loving Seungcheol was the fact that he didn’t know himself at all. And how does one truly love a ghost?

based on the song Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call by Bleachers

“But you should know that I died slow Running through the halls of your haunted home And the toughest part is that we both know What to happened to you Why you're out on your own Merry Christmas, please don't call”

tw/cw: heavy angst + smut, not a happy ending, tortured lovers, coups is an asshole but he doesn't mean to, idol!seungcheol x nonidol!reader, talk of leader responsibilities, abstract telling of sexual intercourse, heavy topics such as anxiety and depression

🪽fic rating/wc: 18+ / 2.4k

☁️ masterlist & a/n: this heavy angst christmas fic is to combat the insane amount of fluff in the vernon christmas special (ᵕ—ᴗ—) it's also very self indulgent angst + smut with coups. thank you for spending 2024 with me and i cannot wait to spend 2025 with you too!

“Oh, golden boy, don't act like you were kind”

He was inevitable in the end. Like some invisible string connected the two of you together. Not the pretty, dainty kind of invisible string. Whatever held your lives together was made of barbed wire. Whatever line wrapped around your ribs, restricting your breathing, tying you to him was nothing pretty. It was what army men used in wars.

You can’t hate your best friend, even if they end up hurting you. You just can’t.

“Come back to bed.” You whisper in the dark as you watch his dark silhouette get up. The clock on his nightstand was barely legible.

You could hear him throwing a shirt on. “I’ve got to go.”

You open your mouth to ask him again, but the words die in your mouth. A couple days ago you would’ve begged, but the bubbling hatred in you pushed the words down your esophagus, momentarily choking you. Seungcheol noticed your silence.

“I’ll be back before sunrise.” He leans over the bed and kisses your cheek, brushing a stray hair from it. “Don’t be mad.”

You shake your head in the dark. “I’m not mad.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

That was just how the world spun. You, lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling you used to trace constellations on together. Sheets that smelled like him - aftershave and candles. Pleading words sewn shut in your mouth, hidden in your lungs, suffocating you. As you sank back into sleep, drowning under everything you’ve ever wanted to tell him. You knew it wasn’t his fault. After all - he barely knew who he was, hidden under all his responsibilities and his job title, he was barely a semblance of a man - tugged and stitched together.

It barely registered in your mind that tomorrow would be Christmas Eve. Part of you knew he wouldn’t be there to celebrate anyways.

“You know this moment don’t ya And time is strangely calm now”

You could say what drew Seungcheol to you initially was your confidence. It illuminated you like a beacon, a moth to the flame, as his eyes followed your movements from across the crowded room.

It was Christmas Eve in Korea, and everyone in the right circles knew Johnny Suh’s Holiday Bash was the place to be.

At least, that was what your friends had told you, claiming they had a way in and convincing you to join them.

You were pleasantly surprised to find that for untouchable K-pop idols, everyone at the party was oddly normal. Kim Sunwoo’s voice could be heard over all the chaos, forehead pressed up against Lee Haechan’s, caught in the middle of some intense drinking game. Jeon Jungkook took a love shot with a heavily drunk Kim Mingyu, the sounds of their glass cups clinking against one another catching your attention.

Drifting away from the noise, you moved upstairs, your hand tracing the natural engravings against the wooden banister. The dim lights made it difficult to see, as you searched for a respite away from the noise downstairs. You’d certainly never question a K-opo idol’s ability to party again.

It was Seungcheol’s quiet stare that made you approach him, noticing how he sat with his back against the smooth white wall, his hair falling into his eyes. It was odd to see him alone, unaccompanied by his usual entourage of rowdy members. When alone, he seemed oddly sad, as if he was trying to convince himself he wasn’t. Perhaps it was the vulnerability in his eyes that urged you to sit next to him.

“I’d like to be alone, please.” He mumbled, turning his big eyes towards you. The light from downstairs caught in his irises, refracting into a million tiny lights.

“Me too.”

Your reply amused him as he watched you, intrigued by the way you stared off into the distance. He hadn’t known how you had noticed his glassy, tearfilled eyes from the get go, or else he would’ve walked away.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Your offhanded tone made the loaded question fall easier against his chest. He could feel himself breathing routinely once more, the tears in his eyes receding as he processed your question and figured out an answer.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” He admitted, finally turning the whole of his body to face you, moving his knees up against his chest as he leaned back against the wall once more.

There was something about him that made you want to help him. Maybe it was the fact that he was famous for being the reliable leader, responsible for too many things at such a young age. Maybe it was because, based on the things you’ve heard about him, you knew you could relate. Maybe you had already known - even then - that the two of you were different sides of the same coin. That he was inevitable in the end.

“I’ve got time.” You send him an open smile. “Lay it on me.”

Even to this day, Seungcheol had no idea why he confided in you, a total stranger, on the floor of a Johnny Suh Christmas party. He usually held his cards close to his chest - so close in fact, that the people around him often joked that he couldn’t read the cards himself.

So maybe he knew you were inevitable in the end too.

But neither of you could’ve ever predicted what would become of the two of you by the time the next Christmas rolled around.

“Oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home, And at your best you were magic; we were sold”

By the time the next Christmas rolled around, everyone around Seungcehol would credit you as the one who had “fixed” him. It was a term they all danced around lightly - fixed. None of them knew how to describe it, but Seungcheol was happier, louder, and had magically learnt the art of self-confidence.

“That is not my hyung.” Chan yelled into your ear from the side of the bar, eyeing Seungcheol, who was on the dance floor surrounded by an ecstatic Soonyoung and Mingyu. “My Seungcheol hyung does not dance.”

You laughed, because you knew the amount of work that had taken him to get where he was now. No one, except the two of you, would know about the late nights Seungcheol had spent near tears as you knelt by him, soothing phrases leaving your lips only to crash against his back.

“Look at him.” Chan was pointing an accusatory finger at Seungcheol, who had a wide grin on his face as he watched Soonyoung attempt to win over a girl on the dance floor. “He used to avoid the dance floor like it’d kill him. Hell, he avoided the bar in general.”

You followed his finger, a small smile drifting over your features as you witnessed Seungcheol laugh, the sound travelling straight to your core as you watched him. As if he had felt your stare, Seungcheol turned, his bright smile shining upon you as he reached out a hand, gesturing you towards him.

“Hi.” His forehead pressed against yours as he spoke.

“Hi.” You whispered back as he pulled you closer, relishing the safety you felt within his strong arms.

“I love you.” He said, but there were other words hidden deep beneath them. Don’t leave.

“I love you too.” Don’t hurt me.

“And the toughest part is that we both know What happened to you”

You dreaded each time he was called in for work. You knew he loved his job, and more often than not, he would have a good time - singing, dancing, creating with his friends for his fans. But you also saw the heavy weight that followed him home whenever it wasn’t a good time. Each company meeting where he was yelled at, each unsettling encounter with a crazy fan, each hate post you knew your boyfriend had read multiple times over.

You both knew the baggage that followed him home far outweighed the good he felt. But you couldn’t ask him to leave - because that would ruin him too.

February 19 2022. The date forever seared in the front of your mind. It was the day Seungcheol had returned home after dropping out of his world tour.

He had landed on your shared porch like a dead bird.

“Cheol.” You grabbed at his shoulders, trying to get a good look at his face.

He pushed past you into your shared home, kicking off his shoes and throwing his bags onto the floor. You watched him leave up the stairs. You heard the door of your shared bedroom swing close, the lock click into place.

You didn’t mind sleeping on the couch that night. You knew he needed his space.

“I’m sorry.” He had told you the next morning, his eyes betraying his lack of sleep.

Handing him his breakfast, you shook your head. “Don’t apologize. Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

First crack in the glass. You really should’ve known. After all, Seungcheol told you everything.

“But you should know that I died slow Running through the halls of your haunted home”

Seungcheol kissed you each time like he was afraid to lose you. His kisses were full of passion, firm and messy. He kissed you like he was constantly running out of time.

His calloused hands ran gently against your bare skin, handling you like pieces of precious glass.

“I love you.” He’d murmur against your stomach as he inched his way down, looking up at you with shining eyes - akin to the way he once looked at you during your first meeting. That was something special about him: his eyes sparkled the same way whether he was crying or in love. You had yet to learn the difference.

Seungcheol liked holding you as he pushed in, craving the feeling of closeness and how he was connected inside of you, with you. You were his escape and his solace, his mind numbing into a void of white as pleasure coursed through him. The usual jumble in his brain ceased to attack him and he was left with the sole thought of showing you how much he truly did love you.

Seungcheol loved making love with you. It was the aftermath where he didn’t.

“I love you.” You’d whisper as you threaded your fingers through his hair, your other hand drawing circles against his bare skin - and your voice would feel planets away.

The loudness of his own mind was back, the mess of barely coherent thoughts intruding once again. Seungcheol knew it made no sense.

“You were mine, but you were awful every time”

Choi Seungcheol was not good for your soul. You knew that. He was a man full of paradox, forever contradicting himself and everything you’ve ever felt for him. Even the way his coarse hands gently traced the bones of your back felt contradictory, when he had only just told you the two of you could never be together.

“We won’t work.” His lower lip jutted out as he spoke, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor.

“I know.” You were tired of begging, the constant back and forth. Seungcheol would run, and then he would still find his way back to you in the following few months. That was just how this relationship worked, and you were used to it by now.

“I’m sorry.” He would whisper, cupping his hands around your face as his thumbs traced your cheekbones, a gesture filled with silent love.

Then don’t leave, you wanted to yell at him. If he really was sorry, if he really did love you, why would he still leave each time? But you knew that wasn’t how he operated.

You knew Choi Seungcheol wanted you. But he barely knew what he wanted himself.

“'Cause everybody's gone it's Just you and your anger”

You knew he’d be back like clockwork. You knew Seungcheol could never stray from you for too long, some hindrance keeping him from ever truly leaving you.

He’d leave each time he felt like he wasn’t enough, each time you failed to convince him he was. Then he’d come back the moment that insecurity vanished, leaving him with his anger. At himself, at the world, at you.

Seungcheol’s anger burned in white and blue. His anger was silent, suffocating, almost petty and petulant by nature. He would never yell or raise a hand at you but he’d push you away. Further and further until it felt like you never really knew him at all.

“I love you.” You’d say, and he’d just hum in response.

“Cheol.” You’d beg, because even when you said you were done begging, you knew you’d do it again. “Look at me, please.”

He turned, although his eyes locked on some spot right above your head.

“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” You’d ask him. “Let me help.”

You knew your attempts at understanding were futile. Choi Seungcheol’s fatal flaw was his independence. He relied on no one but himself.

“Merry Christmas, please don't call

Merry Christmas, I'm not yours at all”

You supposed Christmas Eve was as good a time as it could get. There would be no best time, you knew that now. You had been looking for the perfect time to leave and look where you were now. Six years deep, in love with a man who barely knew love himself.

Merry Christmas. You wrote, leaving the letter tucked neatly beside his Christmas gift on the living room table. You knew you couldn’t say goodbye in person. One look at his shining eyes and you’d be begging for his love once more.

I know none of this is anyone’s fault. You had begun the letter with. I know there are just some things nobody can fix.

Your hand on the doorknob, your other hand clutched around the handle of your bags, you turned to take in the place one last time. Memories of you and Seungcheol circulated through the air as you lingered by the door, unable to step forward.

Because that was the couch where he had said I love you for the first time, his face inches from yours. That was the kitchen lights that had flickered when broken, the same lights in which you had danced under, wrapped warmly in his arms.

I really do wish you the best, Cheolie. And because at Christmas, you tell the truth - I hope you find everything you need to be happy in this life. Merry Christmas. Please don’t call.

a/n: ending off the 2024 season with a bang! if you made it this far, thank you so much for following along through the beginning of this blog - and i'm excited to spend the next year with you!

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