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Tape stuck to his fingers. Remnants of his nail polish scuffed the crinkled wrapping paper. His frustration made it even more difficult to keep his hands steady as he tried to fix the disaster on the floor in front of him. One gift. He only had to wrap one single gift. Seonghwa had done the rest. The gifts for his parents, for his friends, even for people he didn’t know, Seonghwa had wrapped them. And they were all perfect and beautiful and pristine, just like Seonghwa.
Hongjoong huffed and reminded himself that gift bags are for quitters . Or at least that's what Seonghwa would say. Christmas gifts need glittering paper and name tags and ribbon and bows. But that was easy for Seonghwa to live by. He could wrap anything and make it look perfect. Hongjoong couldn’t even manage a box with flat faces and straight edges.
Unsure when it got dark or how three hours had passed, Hongjoong accepted defeat, nearly sobbing at the mess he’d made of the box and the floor. He’d covered all the gaps and other sins of his first ten or so attempts, but that didn’t make it any less horrendous to look at. Chunks of mismatched paper held together by wrinkled tape and stickers placed over a few odd rips stared back at him by the light of the Christmas tree. And the click of the door opening exposed him to the one person he cared to impress.
“Hey Joongie,” Seonghwa said with a smile. “What’re you up to?”
He sighed, full of regret for not stuffing the monstrosity of a present back into his room before Seonghwa could see it. “I was just — trying to wrap.”
“I told you I’d help you. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I just wanted to try it on my own,” he lied and shielded the box with his body.
Seeing Seonghwa’s eyes reflecting the golden lights of the tree only filled him with more guilt. This year was supposed to be different. This was the year he was finally supposed to confess. He hoped by Christmas Seonghwa was more than his friend and long-time roommate. But at the rate he was going, impressing Seonghwa had become as impossible as ever.
Seonghwa hung his coat and keys by the door and hurried over to Hongjoong, almost like he was excited to see his failure. The shock and hesitation in his eyes when he finally saw the horrors that had been committed pushed a lump to Hongjoong’s throat. He wanted to lie or explain or cry, but as Seonghwa lowered himself to the floor, that unreadable expression became one of adoration.
“Joong, it's so beautiful.”
“What?”
“You know, sometimes I forget you’re an artist.”
“Art –”
“It's like a mosaic. Or like – is it called patchwork? You must have worked on this all day.”
If he didn’t know Seonghwa so well he would have assumed he was lying just to make him feel better. But even he couldn’t fake that look in his eyes – that addicting glow of genuine admiration.
“You really like it?”
“Yes! I must say I’m a fan of organized chaos. Perfectly imperfect.”
“Actually, it's not quite there yet.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“I think – I think it needs a bow. But I need help. Your help.”
“What if I mess it up?”
“You won’t. I promise.”
“Alright, well,” Seonghwa reached into their bin of gift-wrapping materials, still in chaos from Hongjoong’s desperation, “which ribbon do you want to use? We have curling, satin, metallic, glitter, velvet…burlap?”
“Which one is your favorite?”
“Glitter. The red one. But we don’t have to –”
“I want that one. The red glitter. Please.”
“I’m not sure I can mimic your, um, art style .”
“I want it that way,” Hongjoong assured him, playing along. “Organized chaos. Like you said.”
With a smile, Seonghwa pulled out a roll of thick, brilliant, red ribbon and got to work. Hongjoong wondered if Seonghwa was aware of the way he pressed his lips forward when he focused. Or the way his eyes drew in every source of light in the room. He wondered if Seonghwa could ever understand how beautifully pure and perfect his soul seemed to be. But it only made it all the more apparent to Hongjoong that he’d never be worthy of the love housed by such a heart.
“Can I borrow your finger?” Seonghwa asked softly.
“My finger?”
“Just to hold it. Here,” Seonghwa gestured. “Press here.”
Hongjoong pressed his finger to the center of the ribbon and looked to Seonghwa for reassurance, only to be met with a soft smirk. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing. I just forget how small your hands are sometimes.”
“Shut up.”
“No. I think it's cute.”
“Cute?”
Seonghwa smiled, “Yeah. Everything about you is cute.”
Just as Hongjoong’s heart began to flutter, the ribbon cinched over his finger, creating a perfect bow so characteristic of Seonghwa’s skills and a perfect contradiction to the wrapping. The two of them always had been such a perfect juxtaposition to each other, but like always, Hongjoong failed to see it.
“I think it looks pretty good. I hope you like it, Joongie.”
“I love it.”
“It’s, um, it's a really beautiful present. Who – Who’s it for?”
Hongjoong turned the box, locating its smudged nametag and presenting it to Seonghwa, “Sorry I couldn’t do it all on my own. Just a few more days and you can open it.”
“You did all this for me?” Seonghwa asked as his eyes met Hongjoong’s.
“I really wanted it to be special. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it more like the stuff you like. You always make them look so perfect.” Hongjoong fought tears as Seonghwa scooted closer and patted his shoulder.
“But I love everything you make.”
“You do?”
“I love…everything about you.”
Hongjoong fell into those ridiculously massive brown eyes he’d spent a few odd years swimming in. It was as if Seonghwa set him up to finally say what he wanted to say. And judging by the quiver of his lip, he hoped Seonghwa had his own confession on the tip of his tongue. Instead of ruining the moment with a cheesy speech or a clunky explanation, Hongjoong leaned in and waited for hesitation from Seonghwa. Instead, his best friend , and long-time roommate, simply closed his eyes and waited for impact.
Hongjoong cradled his head, brushing his fingers into his silky hair as he pulled him to his lips. He scooted along the carpet to better reach every soft corner of Seonghwa’s pout. He controlled the haste he’d bottled up for the sake of offering the most loving expression of genuine want he could muster.
Seonghwa’s hands made their way to Hongjoong’s cheeks, making him even more grateful that he’d been able to control his crying for the most part. A soft hum buzzed against his lips until they were both consumed with dizzying joy and soft laughter.
“Seonghwa —”
“I know,” he whispered. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Hongjoong – you didn’t. You couldn’t have. You shouldn’t have.”
“Oh but I did.”
“These things cost –”
“Don’t start with that. I wanted to get it for you so I got it for you.”
“It's the original . Not even the Disney reboxing.”
“Do you like it?”
“Are you joking?”
“I already decided you can occupy the coffee table for as long as it takes you to build it.”
“It's a really long build, Joong. Are you sure? I –”
“Please? I want to be able to watch you.”
“I love you, you know. In about a thousand ways, I love you.”