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The amber light of flames caught in the cut crystal of the glass in his hand, complementing the soft amber of the whiskey. The fire in the hearth gave out a welcome warmth, heating the small holiday cottage in the English countryside that, at Christmas, felt like something from a cheesy romcom. But he’d needed to get away, fed up of rattling around in that house in Malibu with the ghost of someone still very much alive haunting him at every turn.
The owner had decorated a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room for their guests. Hundreds of multi-coloured lights and sparkling tinsel nestled in its branches, with a generous heaping of trinkets and baubles to finish the look. It twinkled as a stubborn note of festivity that needled at Taejoon’s solemn mood. Yet it had seemed mean to leave the tree dark on Christmas Eve.
Tomorrow will be merely another day. Just another shitty day without him.
He’d given himself the holiday to spend alone, save for the company of a couple of bottles of whiskey. Having passed the last three Christmases this way he didn’t expect this year to be any different. At least now he’d passed his responsibilities on to Chiwoon he didn’t have to worry about any trouble awaiting his return in the new year.
Sable eyes landed on the television, where one of the many adaptations of ‘A Christmas Carol’ played almost to itself, an actor in wax paint and chains warning his former associate of the endless torment that lays beyond. It left TJ wondering if he was indeed walking a path that would lead him to become that miserly old man, hurt enough to lash out at a world that had forced him to leave behind his only source of comfort.
He drained the whiskey in his glass, moving to fill it again from the bottle on the table before the last of it had even seared its way down his throat. Maybe that’s why Scrooge had seen those ghosts, too much alcohol and a vivid imagination. He sighed heavily, passing his free hand over close cropped dark hair.
Barely noticing the time passing between glasses TJ was soon watching the end credits scroll over the screen. It was late, the neglected coals now little more than glowing embers in the fireplace, and he vaguely registered that it must have ticked past midnight, yet he didn’t care enough to retrieve his phone from his pocket to check.
Deciding against refilling the glass again he let it rest on the floor, content to doze on the sofa rather than move to the double bed upstairs that would feel too cold and empty. It wasn’t long before his mind began to weave lucid dreams from the threads of old memories and yearning.
-
“It’s Christmas Day.” Youngwoo’s voice was low with the promise of sleep, echoing with that distant edge of a dream. “Merry Christmas.” The man shifted slowly where he lay next to him, his cheek resting against TJ’s chest.
“Merry Christmas Youngwoo-yah.” TJ let his arm tighten around the man, warm under the covers, making sure he stayed close to his side for as long as he could keep him there.
That quiet part of TJ’s psyche that knew this for a dream began to pray that he’d never wake.
The surroundings in their regular motel room were dark, illuminated only by the pale red digital display of the clock on the nightstand and TJ’s vague memory of the small space. Yet he knew every detail of those vibrant violet eyes that regarded him, the weight of their gaze prickling at his skin. Youngwoo nosed at his neck lazily, lips grazing lightly over the pulse that thrummed under his skin.
Back then they hadn’t had much, even the privacy of the motel was an expense they couldn’t really afford, so they didn’t have money for gifts for each other. Instead they’d pass the special days of the year merely enjoying each other's company, finding indulgence in the soft touch of fingertips and the crush of lips.
“What’s your wish?” Youngwoo’s words rolled like waves into his ear, low and comforting.
“If I say it, then it won’t come true.” TJ smoothed a hand over Youngwoo’s back, a distraction from the truth that it wouldn’t come true anyway. It couldn’t. No one ever kept hold of someone as willful and spirited as Youngwoo, making them settle almost seemed like stifling them, a broken stallion coerced by whip and spurs. They needed to be handled carefully and with patience.
But oh how he longed to keep him, to be able to show the world the love he had for him.
Youngwoo hummed an agreement against his skin, tired and pliant as his hand roamed freely over tan skin full of scars and tattoos.
-
The heaviness of sleep made the moderate sound of knuckles rapping on the wooden door seem shockingly loud as it yanked him awake. TJ’s head swam as he sat bolt upright, the lingering feelings of the dream still settled over him like a fog. Suddenly he found it pertinent to check the time on his phone.
01:00
Wary, he opened the door slowly, ready to react if it was suddenly pushed inwards towards him by an intruder. He may have left that violent life behind but he knew it could find him again at any moment. When nothing untoward happened he allowed it to open, revealing that there was indeed a ghost of his past at the door on this Christmas Eve night.
As the clock strikes one.
“Youngwoo?” The air seemed to dissipate from his lungs in a rush, like a fire had consumed it.
“Taejoon.” His name almost lost on the exhale, damson eyes quickly finding his, the hesitant smile toying with the man’s lips not quite reaching them.
Everything was eerily stil for a moment, nothing daring to stir in the quiet night, not even the proverbial mouse. TJ wasn’t sure what to think, or say; only able to register that the man looked just as he remembered. A melancholy beauty that almost seemed like it was hewn from cold stone, with only that willful spirit behind sharp eyes to breathe life into it.
He’d not gone to great lengths to hide from the man these past few years, but he had made himself difficult to find in the hope that Youngwoo would find the space to move on and make a good life for himself. As if somehow distance could change the hand they’d been dealt and time could cleanse the blood from their hands.
As if Youngwoo wasn’t the most stubborn man he’d ever met.
Dazed, TJ began to move forward, needing to check that the man wasn’t another dream conjured by a wishful mind and a desperate heart. Before he could move a step he was pushed back through the door by Youngwoo bodily colliding with him. The air that had finally found its way into his lungs was pushed back out as the man pulled him close. Finally taking in a breath he noticed the familiar scent he’d almost forgotten, soft bergamot and cigarettes, the botanicals strongest around his pulse point.
“Youn-” TJ’s voice was cut off by the crush of Youngwoo’s lips against his, insistent and almost overwhelming.
Not daring to ask all the questions that were now crowding into his head, TJ let himself be carried by the other man’s tide, Youngwoo had always been impulsive and reckless. Always getting them into trouble, always the first to give chase, the first to throw a punch, the first to kiss or touch.
TJ’s back eventually collided with the wall in the hallway, rattling one of the picture frames that hung there. Still, Youngwoo didn’t relent, remaining insistent as his tongue pushed into TJ’s mouth, a soft sigh rising in his throat as he leaned his weight against him.
The cold night air rushed into the small cottage behind him, but TJ wasn’t in a hurry to shut the door until Youngwoo pulled back, looking like he’d broken the surface of a trance.
“Taejoon.” He repeated, voice warm and more solid than earlier.
TJ could barely remember Youngwoo calling him by his name, except maybe in anger… or when he needed help.
“Is everything ok? What’s wrong?” TJ felt worry bloom in his chest as he moved to close the door against the cold night outside before turning back.
“Nothing.” Youngwoo’s gaze dipped to the floor as he spoke, he may as well have just told TJ that the answer was a lie. After a beat of silence he seemed to realise that he’dhad betrayed himself, acknowledging that he couldn’t hide any more. “Everything?”
The inflection at the end of the word made TJ’s chest tighten and he was unable to stop his hands from reaching for Youngwoo, smoothing his palms lightly over the other man’s arms. He didn’t really know what to say, what to do, so he leaned forward to claim the man’s lips again, arms moving to encircle a slim waist, TJ’s hands seemingly large against Youngwoo’s slim build.
“It’s Christmas Day.” A dry observation and change of subject that was almost whispered against TJ’s lips as they parted.
“Merry Christmas Youngwoo-yah.” He darent let the man go, as if any space between them might break the spell, might leave him here alone once more, forced to learn lessons from spectres.
“What’s your wish?”
“If I say it, then it won’t come true.” The Deja-vu ran through him and pulled the words from his lips almost unbidden.
“This time I think it will.” Bright purple eyes found his, warm and determined.