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The first thing Alina was proud of, was that there was a very real, very believable, entryway.
Or foyer. What have you.
But considering that her standards for apartment living had been dangerously low for most of her adult life, it felt like quite an accomplishment to have a very believable entryway, which led to a similarly believable living room, most notably one that did not double (or triple) as a study, bedroom, and kitchen.
It turned out, it was nice to have rooms like that separated out.
She wandered through her flat, feeling blessed for every glorious bit of square footage she was able to afford, courtesy of her fancy new museum job, the one that liked to wine and dine her, and the one that allowed her to finally move out of a fun but borderline hellish six person shared living space, and into one very suitable one person-sized living space.
The ornament in her hand crashed unceremoniously onto the ground. Shit.
While living alone certainly had its perks, it also meant the unfortunate loss of five other, taller, people at her instant disposal to help her hang up holiday decorations. Now, she was left alone with her Christmas Pop! playlist playing softly in the background as she swept up the broken evergreen coloured shards, calculating which pieces of furniture she could effectively turn into a footstool, or better yet, if it was acceptable to just call Mal and ask him to come over to help her instead.
Dumping the shards in the bin, Alina glanced around her apartment, half decorated appropriately, half...not decorated. These ceilings were high. She was a short person. Better not risk the possibility of using the coffee table as a stool, only to fall off of it, land in the hospital, and cancel her Christmas party.
She fished her phone out of her pocket and called Mal.
~
“And you thought today was the perfect day to start decorating?” He asked as she swung open the door, grinning.
She grinned back, stepping to the side to let him in, watching shamelessly as he kicked off his trainers, took off his beanie and tousled his hair. Her cheeks grew unfortunately warm when he finally looked at her, and she felt like she’d been caught red-handed with her hand in the cookie jar.
“You’re getting snow on my carpet,” she said instead.
Mal looked down, and tousled his hair some more. Clunky shards of ice fell from his scarf, and she traced the planes of his face that were bright pink from the cold, a lovely frost-bitten colour that ran along his cheeks, nose, and the outside of his ears.
“You move out and suddenly you think you’re above a little snow on your carpet, is that it?” He began to take off his coat and scarf, and Alina found these actions to be in the same vain of unwrapping a highly desired Christmas gift. At the risk of embarrassing herself, she twirled away from him and padded quickly towards the kitchen.
“I don’t think, I know,” she called over her shoulder. Yes, it was possible that she’d timed her boiling water so that it would be ready when Mal arrived. She made him a cup of tea and met him in the living room. “And you moved out too y’know.”
“Yes I’m definitely aware I’m no longer sharing a bathroom with five other people.” He took a sip from the mug she handed him, and gave her a smile that warmed her insides. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do. For your troubles.” She gestured to the parts of her undecorated apartment, all parts that were more or less out of reach. It was imperative that she decorate the entryway.
Mal rolled his eyes at her. “Yes the two minute trek was certainly very gruelling.”
But a glance out the kitchen window certainly made her believe it, because the snow seemed to be coming down faster and faster every second. It had started with a light sprinkling when she’d woken up that morning, but seemed content to unleash frozen misery upon the city’s residents now. The shameless part of her thought that that made everything quite romantic, including the fact that Mal had trekked through snow to help her, or that it would complete the rather picturesque image of her first hosted holiday party. The logical part of her told her to shut her mouth.
“Your bravery will not go unrewarded.” She regretted the phrasing as she said it, especially when Mal sputtered slightly, which he followed up with very graciously pretending he had choked on his tea. She signed and followed his lead.
“Sorry. Choked on my tea,” he offered.
She sighed again. It was the holidays - maybe this year she could ask that these feelings exit her body once and for all, so she could stop feeling hot all over when Mal was around, or when Mal brushed up against her, or when he did nice things for her, or even just when he texted her, or when they Facetimed in total silence while she read and he worked -
No, it did not seem like these feelings would be leaving anytime soon this year.
“Don’t hurt yourself.” She patted his upper back consolingly, ignoring the firm muscle that not even his bulkiest knit sweater could hide. With a glance around her living room, she dragged over the last of her holiday decorations, kicking them lightly towards him, and he nodded in silent agreement.
With the help of his lanky arms, her very specific directions, his light complaining that her directions were too specific and he was only a man and these were only decorations, her replying that he would respect the sanctity of specifically placed holiday decorations goddamnit, him replying that if she truly felt that way she would not have waited to decorate her apartment until the day of her holiday party, and roughly 75% of the Christmas Pop! playlist, they reached the bottom of the last of Alina’s decorations boxes.
Mal sifted through the remaining contents, mostly lost tidbits, string lights (broken), a rather lame looking garland (Alina had opted for fresh garland this year), and a small sign post labeled Santa’s Workshop (presently covered in profanity, due to an unspeakable drunken event of stealing lawn signs with her housemates her second year of school. Actually she would speak of it. It had been quite a fun night).
“How about this?”
She looked over. Mal was crouched over the box, but looked at her now, holding up - ah.
“That’s - that was a gag gift -”
“I can hang it up,” he said at the same time, standing up.
Before she could stop him, or register that her cheeks were positively burning, Mal crossed over to the entryway, surveying the small space that contained a shoe rack, the door to the coat closet, and a wall mirror. She stood at the archway that separated the space from the living room, nervously pulling at the thread of her sweater while Mal reached up to the ceiling in from of the slightly secluded coat closet, and carefully hung the sprig from its bright red ribbon.
Satisfied, he looked at her now, the right side of his mouth quirked up. “Now you can say you’re truly and completely decorated for the holidays.”
She gave a weak laugh. He gave her a smile, providing no indication of what was possibly going on inside his head. She looked up at the plant, looked back at him. He watched her, curiously, openly. She glanced at the wall clock. Three hours until people were supposed to begin showing up. She looked back at him - and suddenly wondered if this was a sign: Mal, watching, waiting, for her, standing under mistletoe, for her? Her feet took a tentative step towards him, and she felt the pace of her heart quicken in her ears, thunderous and overwhelming. As she inched closer, she noticed that pink colour return to his cheeks, but he couldn’t possibly be cold, and she watched him tug on one of his earrings, a nervous tick she’d made a note of several years ago.
Now Alina stood in front of him, their toes almost touching, but a respectable distance between their actual bodies. No matter, because she still felt like she was on fire a little bit, especially when her eyes accidentally dropped to his mouth.
“I got you something.” Mal broke the spell. Or didn’t, because he inched forward until their toes touched, and fished something out of his pocket.
“I know we’ll still see each other on Christmas and we have the group gift exchange but...” he looked down at the box in his hand. She looked down at the box in his hand. It could be the size of a very specific ring box. Alina had had her fair share of dreams that started this way.
He popped open the box, and her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Mal...”
Staring back at her was not a ring, but a dainty gold chain, its centrepiece a small sun charm with a diamond stud in the centre. She watched the light bounce off the jewel, and ran a finger over the thin gold, the necklace itself so delicate she could hardly bare to touch it.
“It just hit me, that I’m really going to miss living with you,” Mal said softly. His words were laced with something she could not quite name, and her heart ached. It was true, the worst part of living alone was that she was not living with him. There was something magical in having him be the first and last person she saw most days.
“And I’m just really proud of you,” he continued, “of everything you’ve done. Of you. I’m so glad -” his breath hitched, as if to stop himself, “I know you. And that you’re my best friend.”
Alina searched frantically for words, most notably ones that began with ‘thank you, you’re my best friend too,’ but all she could come up with was to gape up at him like an unattractive fish, and try desperately not to think about how much she wanted to kiss him.
“Put it on me?” She turned her back towards him, and heard the snap of the box before feeling his hands ghost up her back to move her hair to the side. She shivered.
Like they were moving in slow motion, Mal draped the necklace on her neck, his fingers moving against her skin lighter than a feather, and she forgot how to breath. Clutching onto the cold charm against her chest, she felt the jolt of electricity run through her body where Mal’s fingers lingered on the back of her neck as he clasped the necklace.
She turned back towards him, slowly. Mal kept his hands up, and placed them on her shoulders, slowly. She tilted her head up. His face was quite close to hers, she realised. She could not blame the force of gravity for bringing the two of them so close together, but maybe she could be indulgent, and think that it was the force of something else, them, the sheer magnetism that radiated between her and Mal that had kept them at each other’s sides all these years.
There was hardly an inch between them now, and her hands suddenly found themselves at the bottom of Mal’s sweater, firmly placed on his hips, like they had a mind of their own. She scrunched the chunky knit fabric in her hand, like she was clinging on for her dear life, which it certainly felt like, when she looked up another inch, only to lock eyes with Mal, who was looking at her like every secret of the universe was etched in the corners of her face.
“And Alina, I just wanted to...”
She had to strain to hear him, distracted by his hot breath ghosting over her face, and the sound of her thunderous heartbeat, and his hand coming up to cup the side of her face...
“...let you know, that I -”
BRRRRRRRRRRRING.
They - whatever they were presently doing - paused. She grounded herself in the feeling of Mal’s hand on her cheek, but saw the switch in looks in his eyes. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as her door buzzer continued its obnoxious ringing before ceasing completely.
Her apartment felt suddenly much quieter than before. “They probably hit the wrong number or somethi-”
BRRRRRING BRRRRING BRRRRRRRING
She tore herself away from Mal, jabbing the speaker button harder than necessary while massaging her temples. As it turned out, the universe was apparently out to get her, and she cursed it incessantly.
“Hello?” Her voice came out deadly. Someone better had be dying or already dead.
“Alina! It’s Genya-”
“Genya,” she hissed. “The party is not for another three hours.”
“I’m here too!” A second voice crackled through the speakers. Alina identified it as Zoya’s. “We brought wine-”
“I have wine-”
“Our flat lost power and we need to bake our pies,” Genya rushed out. “We hoped it would be okay if we just came early because it’s bloody fucking freezing. And we need pies.”
“And you didn’t pick up your phone,” added Zoya.
Alina sighed, and forced herself to not woefully turn to Mal. She did anyways, and he gave her a tight smile, hands shoved in his pockets. Whatever lovely moment that had existed between them was gone now.
“That’s alright, come on up. Mal is here too.”
“Hiii Mal,” they called through the speaker.
They had about forty five seconds before Genya and Zoya arrived at her front door. Turning to Mal, she racked her brain for something to say, but he beat her to it.
“That’s - I should go then.” He grabbed his coat, scarf, and beanie, and she regrettably watched him bundle himself back up for the cold.
“You can stay, I’m sure we’ll just bake and drink -”
Mal stood in front of her now, his smile soft as the falling snow. “That’s all right. I wanted to hit the gym anyways before.” He hesitated for another moment, then swooped down and kissed her on the cheek. There and gone again. Even as he turned towards the front door to open it, she could still feel the phantom tingle of his lips linger.
“S’later Alina.” He gave her another look over his shoulder as he opened the door, a look that felt significant, but she wasn’t quite ready to piece together why. “Genya, Zoya.” He nodded greetings to their friends, then exited swiftly out the door.
“Hi Mal, bye Mal,” Genya called after him. Zoya’s eyes narrowed after him, then swivelled dramatically towards her.
“Weird vibe,” Zoya observed. “Did something happen?”
Alina watched her friends kick off their shoes and hang up their coats, hemming and hawing over her holiday decorations. Genya hooted when she saw the mistletoe - it had been a gift from her after all.
“No,” Alina said to herself. “Nothing at all.”
~
The party was in full swing. Michael Buble’s smooth voice drifting seamlessly throughout her apartment, the background noise to the continuous chatter amongst her group of friends. The gift exchange had gone off without a hitch, and Alina was now the new owner of a vintage typewriter, courtesy of Tolya and his uncanny ability to thrift. The group was entering the portion of the evening where the spiced wine she’d made was flowing freely, and friends had invited friends of friends as the night went on, and she found that her insides felt quite warm, independent of the wine, but dependent on having the corners of her apartment filled with chatter and laughter, and being surrounded by friends. This was her family, and she knew with sudden certainty that she would never be alone at Christmastime.
“I don’t know what you put in this mulled wine my friend,” Nikolai’s sudden voice at the base of her neck made her jump. “But it’s making me feel very merry!” He sing-songed and twirled away from her, making his way towards the kitchen, no doubt for another mug.
“I’m very glad!” She called after him. She received a shake of his butt and raised mug in response.
Smiling to herself, Alina surveyed the the kitchen area from her spot in the living room, seemingly worlds away, separated out by her couch, coffee table, and the throngs of people crowded in various places. A small group formed in the kitchen space: Nikolai, Zoya, Mikhael, Mal, and - Mal caught her eye before she could continue her survey, and she had to wonder...
They hadn’t spoken much since he’d gotten here, which was an unfortunate side effect of hosting a holiday party. He had gifted Matthias a hand-carved wooden tankard, complete with a wolf emblem, but was then swiftly swept into conversation with Mikhael and Dubrov, then Jesper, then Tolya and Tamar, then Nikolai...
But not Alina. At least not yet. She was beginning to think that they should maybe talk about what he had meant to say before they were interrupted, but every time she thought of the possibility of him saying...that, her brain frantically shut itself down. It was protecting itself, because she had been suffering silently on the sidelines for years, dreaming and wishing he would say that, but lived in a constant fear that he never would. Because he never had, at least not in the way she wanted to, and he’d had six years of being her roommate and best friend to do so, but never had, and here she was sighing into her wine again, wishing for something that would never be.
Refocusing her attention on Mal, she could see the slight cock of his head as he looked at her from across the room. She raised her mug in the air and he did the same, but kept his eye on her as they took their respective sips.
Are you okay? he mouthed.
Sure, she mouthed back, and tacked on a slightly unconvincing smile.
Mal watched her for a moment, and she watched him. He was wearing a red holiday sweater, complete with reindeer and glitter and everything. She was the one who’d pulled it out of the corner of the rack of the thrift store and practically forced him to buy it. But she also knew it was his favourite holiday sweater, and that thought itself made her feel things inside.
He jerked his head to the side, motioning towards her entryway. Her eyes widened slightly in realisation, and parts of her started to thump with anticipation as they made the journey from their respective crowded parts of her apartment. Maybe she’d just realised how many people were in here, when she had to squeeze past no less than five groups of people. Was this a fire hazard?
“This feels like a fire hazard,” answered Mal’s voice. His body followed as he squeezed past Tolya, half stumbling into her.
She grabbed hold of his forearms for - balance, or whatever - and laughed breathlessly. For the second time in several hours, they stood quite close to each other, and she felt his breath brush against her cheek, smelling sweetly of spices and cider.
“Hi there.” He gave her elbows a squeeze.
“Hi.” She looked up at him, slightly dazed, not even trying to hide automatic smile she kept in her back pocket for whenever he was around.
Mal glanced around them, at the cheerful but slightly unhinged and drunken bodies of their friends surrounding them, and caught sight of the entryway. “Can we talk for a minute?
She nodded mutely, staring at her hand in his as he dragged them around the small corner, and suddenly she remembered where the mistletoe was hung up and -
“Occupied,” Nadia said without looking at them. Alina wondered how she’d been able to see them, let alone speak to them when her tongue was presently occupied being shoved down Tamar’s throat.
“Really?” She asked weakly.
Tamar broke free from Nadia’s lips briefly, and glanced at the two of them. Alina did not miss her friend’s gaze flick to her hand in Mal’s, nor the cheshire cat grin she shot her.
“You put this mistletoe up, you knew what to expect.”
“Right in front of a coat closet is inherently a very sexy spot,” added Nadia.
Mal tugged on her hand, murmuring into her ear “It’s alright, we can talk later-”
“No - or, yes, just - stay. After and we can-”
“Alina.” Zoya appeared at the entryway, and the four of them turned to face her. Zoya looked only at Alina, her face calm. Ish. Alina narrowed her eyes. “I would just like to let you know that there has been a small but very controlled fire in your kitchen that does not require your immediate attention, but I figured you should know-”
“A FIRE?”
“Small but controlled and taken care of -”
“Sure, sure, out of my way please.” She shoved past Zoya and the crowds of people, turning back once to see Mal and Zoya following as they crossed the living room. Alina caught Mal’s eyes, and he smiled sadly at her. She knew it too.
The moment had passed.
~
There were now less people in her apartment. Less, as in the random stragglers that had found their way to her home, slightly alarming in and of itself, had been booted out the door.
A clock chimed midnight, and Alina sat perched on the edge of her couch, mulled wine mug glued to her hand. Her cheeks had been turning warm for the better part of the last hour, but she glanced around, and at the very least, knew everyone around her.
Her corner of the couch was a point in the semi-circle that was what had turned into Girl Talk, everyone tipsy and loose enough to freely complain about their romantic woes and wins and weird sex stuff. It was generally her favourite part of any evening.
“Is that new?” Genya pointed to her neck, and Alina’s hand automatically flew up to trace the sun charm, imagining the feel of Mal’s hands as he’d put it on her. She urged herself not to glance at him now.
“It is. I um,” she took a sip of her wine, and her cheeks started to burn for another reason entirely. “It was a gift from Mal.”
A loud chorus of ‘ooohs’ erupted around her, and her leg was jostled rather violently by Nina, who was seated on the couch next to her. As it turned out, they really were idiot schoolchildren at heart.
“No, it’s not - it’s not like that,” she argued as they died down.
“Sure, sure.”
“I get expensive jewelry for my best friends all the time in a super normal platonic way.”
“Genya, you actually did though, remember you got me that necklace-”
“Quiet Nina a point is trying to be made here-”
“Look it’s not like that,” Alina interrupted their overlapping voices. Or it was like that. She had no idea because she needed to speak with Mal. And she needed to stop being interrupted by doorbells and baking emergencies and small fires.
“Did you at least say thank you?” Nadia wiggled her brows in a way that suggested she was express her thanks in other ways.
“I -” Alina thought back to that moment, suddenly stunned by the lack of words she’d had in that moment. “Actually no not even - I was interrupted!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Genya, not bothering to look for the missing Zoya. “By you idiots! Saints what kind of friend am I, can’t even say thank you when people gift me things?”
“The good kind, because you can make it up in other ways,” suggested Tamar.
“Or you can say it right now - Mal!” Genya grabbed onto his arm violently, wincing slightly as he choked on the gingerbread cookie presently being shoved into his mouth. When she was sure they had avoided all choking hazards, she dragged him into their semi-circle. The rules of Girl Talk were being broken, and Alina was now exceedingly unsure of what was about to happen. She gave Mal a little smile. He brushed crumbs off his face and gave her a little smile back.
“Alina has something to say to you,” Genya announced.
Her eyes widened with Mal’s at the same moment, and she was struck by the panic that whatever they needed to speak about, whatever could happen, events she thought lived only in the hidden parts of her mind, it needed to be private. And private did not mean in the middle of half her friends.
So Alina did the only thing she could think of: she hopped off her couch arm dragged Mal out of the circle, his hand in hers for the second time in several hours, his throaty laughter following her like a shadow.
She dragged him across the living room, back towards the entryway. She wouldn’t talk to him in her bedroom, which was presently closed, because that was too obvious, and her friends would never pass up on a chance to point out the too obvious. All other spaces of her apartment were otherwise occupied, and the squished feeling in her chest that ached when he wasn’t around was starting to go haywire. The entryway had just enough wall space to block out the rest of the apartment, just enough privacy to maybe even reach up on her toes, give him a kiss that started every one of her dreams -
“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”
At her voice, Nikolai lifted his head off and up from Zoya’s neck, his face flushed and hair mussed. He gave them a sheepish grin. Zoya gave her a look that oscillated between annoyed and horny.
“When did this even become a thing?” She asked weakly.
Mal leaned towards her with an answer, his lips inches from her ear. “Few hours ago.”
“I’d say three mulled wines ago,” corrected Zoya. Mal rolled his eyes. Alina tried to ignore the fact that her friends’ hands were moving in the corner of her eye-line.
“Fantastic.” She looked up at the ceiling, avoiding looking at anyone any longer. It seemed like the only appropriate thing to do in a situation like this.
“Now can you two leave us? We’re trying to make solid use out of this corner.”
~
The clock moved dangerously towards 2 am. But that was alright, because her friends were slowly filtering out of her apartment, one by one. (Or rather, two by two. Saints, she was friends with too many couples). The candlesticks had been burnt to nubs, and all that remained in the pots on her stovetop were the lingering aroma of wine and cider, an orange rind here, a cinnamon stick there, and an almost overwhelming amount of mugs in her sink.
She hugged Inej goodbye, and gave a salute to Kaz as they headed out her door, hand in gloved hand. Genya gave her a half hug, already being dragged out by a very sleepy looking David. Alina did not miss the significant look she shot her before leaving, slamming the door shut behind her.
“And then there was one,” she muttered under her breath.
Turning into the living room, she observed the space from her little corner. The mess was actually manageable - no more lingering wrapping paper and ribbon littered the ground, and everyone had done their civic duty in bringing their dirty dishes to the kitchen. All her tinsel was in tact, and the sparkly snowflake stickers she’d pasted on her windows winked at her as real snow fell outside.
She winked back. Metaphorically, or whatever. Whatever was needed to face what was to come.
Mal stood bent over her sink, washing the dishes. A small trash bag stood limply next to him; he was cleaning up for her. She was so far gone for him, it wasn’t even funny anymore.
“Oh that’s not - you don’t have to -” she called from across the room.
He glanced to the side at her, the dim light reflecting off his earring almost blinding her, as much as the smirk on his face did.
“I want to,” he called back. Well. She would be a bad host if she didn’t let her guests do what they wanted.
“Yeah, alright,” she said under her breath.
Aside from the steady stream of the water and the sound of a scrubbing sponge, her apartment was entirely quiet. She glanced outside the kitchen window - and the world out there seemed just as silent. It was like everything living was holding its breath along with her, waiting. For what? She didn’t know. But she supposed that was part of the magic of 2 am.
She returned to the entryway, surveying the small mess that had not yet been addressed. Shoes, everywhere, first of all. And the hangers in her closet were facing every which way. She bent down to straighten out her shoes, then stood up quickly only to bump into -
Mal. She had not heard him at all.
“Why are you fixing your shoes at 2 am?” He held loosely onto her wrist. Not like she really needed a reason to stand close to him.
“They needed um. Fixing.”
Mal blinked once. “They needed fixing,” he repeated.
She nodded. Nobody ever said that the magical part of 2 am meant embarrassing yourself in your own apartment.
“And that’s all?”
She nodded again, less sure of what he was getting at.
“Be honest Alina - are you avoiding me?”
“What? No, not at all,” she sputtered, her cheeks beating up in embarrassment. It appeared that Mal’s were doing the same, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair.
“It’s okay if you are - look I think I know it was kind of an intense gift.” He blew out a hot stream of air, looking at anywhere but her. “And it’s true, I didn’t just buy it because it’s a nice looking necklace, I bought it because of you, and I - oomf.”
It was not the time for talking anymore, Alina decided. She let the possibility of frozen time rush her forward, twisting her palms in his sweater she’s picked out and jerked his body towards hers until she felt the first brush of his lips. From there, everything happened all at once: Mal’s hands wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her flush against him. She brought her arms around his neck, and he opened his mouth slightly, an invitation, and her tongue ran timidly along his bottom lip, shy and patient until he moved harder against her, impatient.
Alina could not breath. She never wanted to breath again, if this was what it meant. Mal pressed a another desperate kiss against her mouth, before leaving her lips entirely and resting his forehead against hers. They were both breathing heavily, and she cracked an eye open to see the loveliest shade of pink dust across Mal’s flushed cheeks.
“Alina.” He muttered her name like a prayer. “What was that for?”
“It’s a thanks. Of sorts.” She circled one of his wrists, and brought his hand up to her chest, so that his fingers could play with the necklace he’d gifted. And if she kept his hand over her heart so he could feel it beat for him, so be it.
“Just a thanks?” Mal breathed. He must have felt her heart thump a beat louder.
“Not just a thanks.” Maybe she didn’t need to say it after all. Looking into his eyes, she knew. And she knew he knew, and they exchanged their secrets with only a glance, because truth be told, that was all they needed.
“I love you.” He said it anyways, and she smiled, leaning forward to kiss him softly, another exchange of secrets, of sorts.
“I love you too,” she murmured against his mouth. Just so she could say it too.
They kissed again, and again and again, and did not stop even when the sun came up, even when the seasons changed and the plastic mistletoe that hung from the ceiling gathered dust. Alina pointed it out to Mal one day, and he simply laughed. She couldn’t help but join in.