Chapter Text
Ten's lips are like soothing velvet against the sharp bite of the surrounding winter air. They're warm, a refuge, like changing into dry clothes on a freezing day or nestling under thick blankets on a particularly frigid morning after smacking the snooze button one too many times.
It's the kind of warmth that inexplicably slows time and makes the bustling discomforts of the rest of the world feel miles away.
That's what this is, not a violent fury of consuming flames but a slow crackling fire, a bubble of comfort that fills Kun from the inside out so completely that all those bells and alarms that should be going off have been dulled, drifting further and further away the longer he surrenders to the feeling of Ten's mouth falling open against his, the subtle but greedy curl of fingertips against the nape of his neck.
Despite that, deep down, Kun knows he shouldn't be doing this. If he were any sort of decent person, much less a friend, he would stop, extract himself from the bubble of warmth they've created between them, return to the freezing, wintery gusts of reality.
Ah.
But it's Christmas.
—
One Week Earlier
In one of the small rooms of their recently acquired office space in the heart of Seoul, Qian Kun stands in attendance with the elder of the Li brothers—his best friend slash business partner, Li Nichkhun—launching the payoff of everything they have worked for the last five years to build, their music tech startup, SonicStream.
A blue and white banner with the SonicStream logo stretches the expanse of the wall behind them, while both men stand in designer suits before their camera setup.
Nichkhun takes center stage, confident, captivating, the expressiveness of his gestures as energetic as his tone and features. His tousled brown hair and handsome smile accent his natural charm, and as enthusiastically as he's selling all the work that has gone into the budding business, as well as the potential of what the future holds, even Kun is captivated enough to forget outside this small room is a much larger vast and empty space.
That's always been Nichkhun's gift, why they make such a good team. Kun takes care of all the technical details and Nichkhun presents them in an enticing little package that makes them sound interesting, inspiring.
As the stream comes to an end, Kun and Nichkhun smile and wave at the camera together before the feed finally cuts out.
Nichkhun swirls around to face Kun, arms extended. "Aaaaaaaaaaand SonicStream is officially launched!" He turns to toss an arm around the back of his shoulders in that familiar way he does. "We did it! We did it, brother!"
"Yes, we did," Kun agrees, though while his tone is calm, Nichkhun's infectious enthusiasm has a smile plastered on his face.
"Ahhh, all that hard work is finally paying off," Nichkhun sighs wistfully. "We sure have come a long way, haven't we?"
"Well, keep in mind this is only a step," Kun reminds him. He doesn't like bursting Nichkhun's grand bubbles, though it is often an unfortunate necessity. "We still have plenty of work cut out for us, yet."
"Aw, Kun!" Nichkhun scoffs, releasing his shoulders. "This isn't a step, it's a milestone! We have every reason to celebrate!"
Kun barely has the time to concede when Nichkhun's eyes light up in a way that he knows means no good. "In fact, let's go do that!"
"I should get home. I still have a lot to unpack," Kun replies automatically.
Not that the idea doesn't tempt him. It's just that his apartment is like a miniature reflection of their office: bare walls and wide open space, stacks of cardboard boxes filling the corners. If he goes out with Nichkhun tonight, then unpacking said boxes tomorrow is going to be an unnecessarily strenuous—if not outright painful—experience.
"What are you talking about?" Nichkhun's brows knit together in a somewhat dramatic display of indignation. "We just had our launch party! If there's a time to celebrate, it's now!"
Sure, he has a point. It's just that Nichkhun frequently finds excuses to celebrate, and Kun hasn't quite recovered from the sixteen-hour flight a few days earlier, not to mention come anywhere close to resetting his circadian rhythm.
"One drink, Kun," Nichkhun insists. "It's not gonna kill you."
Kun gives him a skeptical look. It always starts with just one drink.
"Come on! Think of all those endless nights we spent crammed in the dorm hunched over your laptop. We've been waiting for this moment!"
In the end, he wins this round, and Kun gives in with an exhale that sags his shoulders. "One drink."
Nichkhun smiles victoriously, patting his back. "'Atta boy!"
—
Classic Christmas tunes play faintly from the faded box televisions in the corners of what can only be described as a dive bar.
"It's surreal being back here, isn't it?" Nichkhun muses aloud over his glass beer stein.
Kun nods, eyes drifting to the frosted beveled windows lining the front of the establishment, distorting the scene of street lights, passing cars, and holiday lighting into liquid streaks of color.
Surreal doesn't even begin to describe it.
Culture shock is one thing, but returning to the place after five years where he had once had roots settled, where memories had been made, where critical turning points in his life had taken place, that's its own brand of disorienting.
Or maybe that's just the jetlag speaking.
His attention returns to Nichkhun. "It's like everything has changed but nothing has. It almost feels like all those years abroad didn't happen."
"But they did happen! And here we are! All grown up!"
Kun grins, eyes narrowing in a playfully skeptical manner over the rim of his stein. "Are we really though?"
Nichkhun winks back at him, nudging him with his elbow. "Well, as far as anyone else is concerned, we are."
Sharing a laugh, they clink their glasses together.
In a lot of ways, it feels like the years between him and Nichkhun didn't happen either.
"Big things are coming our way next year, brother," Nichkhun muses, staring up at the television screen as though it contains his vision. "Just you wait."
"So you keep saying."
Nichkhun twists in his barstool to face Kun directly. "Have I ever steered you wrong?"
"Often."
"And you've lived a very exciting life as a result, so you're welcome."
Kun shakes his head, though the upturn of his mouth ruins the effect.
Nichkhun's phone rings, and he reaches into his coat.
"Mae!" he answers, beaming as though she were right in front of him. "No, I didn't forget. Yes, yes, I know. I just got back in town, but I'm gonna be there tomorrow. And then we have all week, I promise!"
Kun's eyes flit to the television in a respectful attempt at giving the conversation privacy—not that Nichkhun is trying to conceal it with the way his voice carries through the establishment.
Despite his efforts, Kun can't help but overhear the faint but distinct maternal, chastising tone coming from Nichkhun's phone speaker, and the familiarity of it plucks warmly in his chest, flitting a grin onto his lips.
He thinks back to the days before he and Nichkhun ventured overseas, back when that same voice first welcomed Kun into her home with not perfect but passable Mandarin. The Li family had considerably more Mandarin words than Kun had Korean, and for an anxious fourteen-year-old trying to make friends while adjusting to an entirely new life in an entirely new country, it meant everything.
"Hey!" Nichkhun slaps Kun's shoulder, knocking him back into reality.
He's still smiling away at nothing with the phone on his ear, and the hand on Kun's shoulder moves to excitedly hook the back of his neck. "Guess who I have sitting here right next to me?"
Kun tries to slip out of Nickhun's grasp, but the muffled coos emitting from the phone speaker coax another smile to his face.
"That's right!" Nichkhun finally releases him. "Say hi!"
He holds his phone up just in time for Kun to hear Mrs. Li's tiny voice shout, "Hiiiii, Kunnie!"
"Hello, Mae!" he replies, head inclining somewhat sheepish.
"You better come visit us soon!" she calls out. "It's been too long!"
"I'll be there soon enough, I'm sure."
Nichkhun holds the phone to his ear again. "Alright, Mae. I love you. See you soon."
He makes kissy sounds into the receiver before ending the call and returning his attention to Kun. "So when's your flight?"
Kun rubs a hand over the nape of his neck as though it would ease the uncomfortable twinge in his stomach. His eyes lock on the television. "Between moving expenses, not to mention everything we put into this launch, visiting the family for Christmas just wasn't in the cards this year."
"Why the hell didn't you say something?" Nichkhun asks with an indignant shove of Kun's shoulder that takes his attention from the television.
He settles back into his seat. "I wasn't going to bother you about it. You have enough on your plate."
"You could've used some of the company funds—"
Kun shoots him a glance. "That's for business expenses only."
"It's Christmas!" Nichkhun persists, giving Kun another shove, though Kun swats at his hand this time.
Idly sipping from his glass, he shrugs. "It's not that different from the last few Christmases anyway. Besides, I can use the time to get the office set up and catch up on some of the moving setbacks."
"Oh, no!" Nichkhun proclaims with a brandish of his finger. "You are not working during Christmas. You know what? This is great! You can come down to the house with me! It'll be like old times."
"I don't want to impose."
"Impose?" Nichkhun scoffs with such indignation that he turns to face him directly, pointedly placing his hands on his hips. "That is offensive. I'm serious, I'm offended right now."
Kun rolls his eyes at his friend's display of dramatics, though a hint of a grin tugs on the corner of his lips.
Nichkhun twists, reaching for his phone. "I'm calling Mae back."
Kun swiftly catches his wrist. "Don't!"
"Then you better come!" Nichkhun pushes back with a scolding finger. "Come on, Kun. You work too hard. Take a rest already! Besides, no one should be alone on Christmas."
He's giving Kun an intense look, one that Kun knows means that he is not going to drop it, and if there is one thing Kun has learned after so many years with Nichkhun, it's to pick and choose his battles.
And if Kun is being honest with himself, underneath the layers of uncertainty, some small inkling of nostalgia rouses at the idea of spending the holiday at the old Li household.
"Alright," Kun gives in, much to Nichkhun's delight, though he quickly adds, "But I'm bringing my laptop!"
Nichkhun waves an annoyed hand. "Ugh! You're the worst!"
—
Nichkhun has the Christmas music set to full blast on his car stereo when they first depart Seoul, eventually quieting as they make their way into the outskirts. Kun watches the ever-changing landscape beyond the passenger window, the snow-covered scenery resembling a whimsical winter movie set.
"The family's going to be so happy to see you," Nichkhun says, snapping Kun out of his reverie. "I bet Ten's going to be excited."
Kun blinks at Nichkhun.
Ten.
Now there’s a name Kun hasn’t heard in a long time, and just the mention has his hackles rising.
He snorts skeptically. "Excited to annoy me, more like."
"Aww, come on!" Nichkhun nudges him. "You guys aren't kids anymore."
"Don't you remember what he said at the airport when we were leaving for New York?"
Nichkhun hums thoughtfully. "Vaguely? Remind me."
Kun's fingertips automatically find his forehead as though to quell the memory of a headache five years passed.
Why his mind decided to catalog this particular moment as clearly as it has, he couldn't say, but Kun remembers.
He remembers the bustle of the airport, he and Nichkhun weaving through the crowds while they lugged their carry-on bags, the anticipation thrumming through his chest so potently Kun half-worried he might be sick.
He especially remembers the way Mrs. Li tearfully pulled him into just as fierce of a hug as she did her own son when she saw them off.
After many well wishes and goodbyes from the Li family, he and Nichkhun headed to the security line to start this new chapter of their lives, but Kun had barely reached the line entrance when a hand curled around his bicep and a familiar voice spoke his name with an unfamiliarly soft tone.
Pausing, Kun blinked back to see Ten staring up at him, lightly panting for breath.
In hindsight, he really should've seen it coming, but in the moment, the urgency of Ten’s manner caught Kun off-guard, and his better senses abandoned him.
Kun turned to face him, giving him his full attention.
"Ten?"
For a moment, he truly thought Ten was going to wish him off well, say something supportive or encouraging.
However, Ten's face broke out in that trademark devious smile. "I just wanted you to know you're going to be just as much of a loser in America as you were here!"
Then he ran off laughing.
Leaving Kun stunned and oblivious to the disapproving glances thrown in his direction by the other travelers having to maneuver around him.
In the car, Nichkhun's shoulders shake with laughter after Kun recounts the tale, and Kun's annoyance flickers. "Don't you remember?"
"Kinda."
"Why would he go out of his way to say that?"
Nichkhun shrugs. "It sounds like a very Ten thing to say."
Kun stares at him. "But why did he go out of his way?"
Because that’s what Kun never understood, what irks him even after all this time. Not the insolent quip itself—Nichkhun’s right; that was a very Ten thing to say—but the effort involved in getting his attention for it.
"I don't think Ten would've been able to live with himself if he didn't get the last word in," Nichkhun suggests. "Besides, it was probably his way of sending you off well."
Kun's doubt lingers. "Right."
Nichkhun throws him a glance before returning his attention to the road ahead. "You always took Ten way too much at face value."
Kun arches a brow, but before he can question further, Nichkhun turns the next corner, and they arrive at the Li family neighborhood.
"Here we are," Nichkhun announces.
A flutter stirs in Kun's chest. Anticipation or nerves, he's not entirely sure. This house holds many of his fondest teenage memories, a place where Nickhun's parents welcomed him in like one of their own.
But that was five years ago.
They pull into the driveway, and the multistory house is as Kun remembers it, like a picture taken straight out of his memory and brought back to life, Christmas lights and all.
Nostalgia floods Kun’s chest, and it's a welcome contrast to the barren walls that stared at him back in Seoul.
The wreath-decorated door swings open to reveal Mrs. Li, squealing her delight as she pulls both Kun and her eldest son into a bear hug, showering them with a whirlwind of maternal affection and sizing Kun up like she's never seen him before.
"Kunnie! My Kunnie! Look at you! You're all grown up! You look so handsome!"
The density of silver streaks have increased throughout her hair, and the lines surrounding her eyes have deepened, though they still contain that familiar warmth.
"Make yourself at home," she insists, ushering them inside.
"Where's Ten?" Nichkhun asks, shedding his layers.
"God only knows," Mrs. Li sighs. "Said he'd be here once he got off work, but knowing him, that could be any time. Assuming he comes at all."
Further inside, a vivid festive scene awaits them—decorations, a towering tree next to the fireplace surrounded by mountains of presents, the aroma of cinnamon and savory delights wafting from the kitchen. Endless photos of the family span across the walls and over surfaces.
Nichkhun's father welcomes him warmly, and Nichkhun tugs Kun along to reacquaint him with the rest of the family. Kun recognizes some faces, though some are grown, others entirely new, others aren’t human, in the case of the beagle sniffing around everyone’s feet, Bella.
The lingering dregs of his earlier nerves dissipate. They may not be his family by blood, yet this place feels as much like his home away from home now as it ever did, and the warm familiarity of it all feels a lot like slipping into a favorite old pair of sweats.
He's grateful Nichkhun convinced him to come.
Later, when Nichkhun ventures off onto his own, Kun idly strolls through the house by himself, wine glass in hand, taking in the collection of photos adorning the walls—some old, some new, further enveloping him in a warm sense of nostalgia.
His path brings him to the festively decorated mantelplace in the living room, a trove of memories captured in frames. A few among the collection feature a younger version of Kun himself, stirring a touch of fondness in his chest to see them here after all this time.
His gaze pauses on a photo of Nichkhun with his little brother, Ten, both beaming with youth.
Little Ten looks so deceivingly angelic in this photo that Kun suspects coercion from their mother—either a bribe or a particularly firm threat—was involved in capturing such a perfect shot.
Another photo displays a wild teenage Ten sporting a gravity-defying hairstyle of shocking red and black streaks, and Kun can't help but snort at the sight.
The photo captures Ten's adolescent awkwardness—limbs gangling despite his petite frame, baby fat stubbornly clinging to his cheeks, not to mention Ten's eccentric clothing choices as though that much more determined to stand out.
Yet, it's that devious glint in his eyes that shines above all else.
Now that he's looking at these photos, Kun can't help but wonder what Ten's been up to in all these years. Nichkhun had kept him up to date with the family as best he could, but it's been a while since he's mentioned Ten specifically.
Is he still embracing his unconventional fashion choices? Finding new ways to cause trouble? Targeting new victims with his antics?
Then again, he thinks, perhaps now that Ten's entered his adult years, he's finally calmed down.
Kun tries to envision what Ten looks like now as an adult, but all his mind comes up with is the same awkward, mischievous boy he knew except a little taller, and the mental image has him laughing under his breath.
It occurs to him then that there aren't any updated photos of Ten as there are others of the family. Frowning, he scans over the mantel photos then glances back at the ones on the wall, but then Nichkhun reappears around the corner, insisting Kun join the family, tugging him from the living room and his musings.
That evening, the long dining room table is a certifiable feast of savory and sweet delights. Bella weaves through the row of legs underneath in the hopes of catching a fallen scrap. A classic Christmas melody plays from the phonograph in the living room, underlying the chorus of laughter as Nichkhun captivates everyone with the tales of his and Kun's university escapades.
"One of us receiving an acceptance letter from NYU was a miracle. The fact that we both did? It was outright destiny." He emphasizes his sentimentality with a raise of his wine glass. Then a mischievous glint flits across his features. "And thank God for that, because this guy really carried my ass the whole way through."
Kun ducks his head amidst the next round of laughter, only for Nichkhun to catch him in a playful attempt at a headlock. Kun maneuvers his way out, retaliating with a jerking mock punch that has them both laughing.
"How did you end up getting stuck with this lug dragging you down?" one of Nichkhun's uncles teases.
"I had no choice," Kun deadpans. "I knew all of five Korean words when my parents moved here, and he was the only one of my classmates that could speak Mandarin."
Nichkhun lifts his glass again, eyes alight. "Lucky for me!"
As the conversation continues, the front door bursts open with a jingle of decorative bells and a gust of cold air, causing the dining room candles to flicker and the surrounding laughter to die off.
The new arrival stomps his way to the dinner table, dropping his duffel bag in an unceremonious heap before dragging out a chair, flinging bits of snow as he shimmies out of his coat.
"Evening, everyone! Welcome home, Nichkie-boy," he greets into the stilted silence, scooting his chair forward. He then points to one of the steaming dishes. "Pass that my way, will you? I haven't eaten all day, and I'm fucking starving."
One of the adults gasps and throws her hands over her child's ears while others sniff and huff their disapproval.
Kun shoots the newcomer a reproachful glance, but it turns into an unexpected double-take. If he is being perfectly honest—and right now, his tipsy mind certainly is—this individual has the most immaculate profile that Kun has ever seen, more than a human should have any right to possess.
He carries himself with impressive grace despite his brash entry. Layers of full black hair effortlessly frame his face, and his pristine skin is like the perfect canvas for features so delicate yet simultaneously striking.
An involuntary warmth that has nothing to do with the wine he’s consumed surges through Kun, and he has to remind himself to breathe.
Then Mrs. Li finally breaks the silence, and reality rips the floor right out from under him.
"Good of you to finally join us in the middle of dinner, Ten."
Wait.
Ten?
Kun's head jerks in the opposite direction, his seat suddenly uncomfortable as that internal heat swells.
"I'm here, aren't I?" Ten sulks around a mouthful of food. "And it doesn't look like you were all held up waiting for me or anything, so I don't really see what the problem is—is there rum in that eggnog? On second thought, pass me the wine!"
"That's hardly the point," Mrs. Li huffs under her breath.
"What?" Ten continues, unfazed. "The roads are awful 'cause of all the snow, and even if they weren't, Taeyong's shift ran longer than mine, so I didn't have much of a choice, seeing as he was my ride and all."
"What's wrong with the car I got you?" Mr. Li's voice interjects.
"Broke down a few weeks ago," Ten explains with a shrug, drinking generously from his practically overflowing wine glass.
Kun repeatedly sips from his own as though it might steady his racing heart.
The conversation drones on like background noise, and Kun steals a glance at Ten around Nichkhun, blinking his astonishment because his eyes surely must be lying to him.
The gangling teenager is gone, replaced by a figure of stunning elegance, all grown up and filled out.
Ten still maintains the standout fashion statements, though far from awkward, they flatter all his best features. Tattoos run down the length of one arm, metal shimmers along the shells of his ears, smoke frames his eyes, and the way the gloss emphasizes the pout of his lower lip has Kun taking a particularly long swig from his wine glass as he watches the way the tip of his tongue slips out to catch a stray crumb.
Oh.
This is bad.
"Why didn't you call me?" Nichkhun asks Ten, the sound of his voice snapping Kun back to reality.
Around him, the other table occupants resume their conversations, granting the immediate family privacy, and Kun ducks his head to mask the flush on his face that may as well be the written exposure of his thoughts and feelings in glaring neon letters.
"Oh, right!" Ten jeers sarcastically. "And intrude on your grand arrival by asking a favor? I never would've heard the end of it!"
Nichkhun maintains his calm. "Don't be like that."
"Like what?" Ten persists. "It's the truth, and you know it!"
"Is that any way to greet your older brother?" Mrs. Li whispers harshly, leaning in to conceal the argument. "He's finally returned home, taking out the time from his busy business schedule to spend time with us for the holidays, and here you are! Barging right in and making a scene!"
"I said welcome home?" Ten petulantly hunches his shoulders. With a defeated sigh, his attention returns to Nichkhun, a saccharine sweet smile breaking across his face. "I'm sorry, Nichkhun. Welcome home! It's good to see you. Merry Christmas!"
Despite his better judgment, Kun glances in their direction. The Li brothers are like night and day: Nichkhun with his silk button-up and neatly styled comma hair, Ten with all his tattoos and makeup and artfully ripped clothing, slouching back in his chair like he owns the place.
Nichkhun places an affectionate hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "I'm happy to see you too, Ten. Really."
Ten waves him off and reclaims his wine glass. "Don't start getting all sentimental on me. I'll cry."
"We have another guest here that has also returned home, you know," Mrs. Li cuts in, and Kun stiffens.
His pulse kicks right back into overdrive, and he internally berates himself for it because frankly, he is being ridiculous.
Ten grew up, but he's still Ten, still the little brother of his best friend and business partner—the one that is currently seated next to him, mind—and while Kun may have been surprised by his grown-up appearance, that's all it was: surprise.
Genuine, understandable, completely appropriate surprise.
"Hm?" Curiosity laces Ten's tone, and he steals a look around his family members, eyes locking with Kun, who does his best to regard him as naturally as possible.
It takes an embarrassing amount of effort.
"Kun…" Ten's voice is surprisingly gentle, more so than it has been since his abrupt arrival. "Look at you."
The corners of his lips twitch in a manner that, for a moment, Kun thinks that after all these years, enough time has passed that he will finally have something genuinely thoughtful to say.
"You haven't changed a bit. Fucking nerd."
Ten then returns his attention to the bottle of wine in front of him, snatching it by the neck to refill his glass.
"Ten!" Mrs. Li hisses, while Mr. Li backs her with a slew of his own hushed disapproval.
A new clamor of chatter takes over the table. All the while Kun sits stunned in his indignation.
Not just any indignation. It's a very specific brand that Kun had forgotten even existed within him, spiking so potently, it's as though it had been sitting there biding its time for the last five years, awaiting this precise opportunity to finally strike.
"Ah," Nichkhun sighs contentedly among the chaos, lightly toasting his wine glass. "It's good to be home."