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Donghyuck’s friends had argued that it was a terrible idea, and he had agreed. For the most part. But if he really took the time to think about it, he and Jaemin have already reached the fiery pits of hell with no way to crawl out, so what did it matter that he had decided there was no harm in another terrible idea?
The terrible idea in question was agreeing to participate in their yearly tradition of searching for Christmas lights together.
It began when they were children, too young to go themselves so their parents took them out of parental obligation. They’d begged to travel in the same car, their hands sticky from opened bags of candy canes, but they still found a way to hold each other tightly. They’d giggled excitedly to themselves, played a little game of who could spot the next house in the distance.
As they grew older they took the journey without their parents, riding around the neighbourhoods on their bikes, racing each other to find the nicest houses the fastest. They quickly found their favourite house, and that became the one they went to see every year. Just like that, a random house on a random street became their spot, no matter the opinion of the owners.
When they were thirteen they decided to run away, hand in hand. There was no particular reason, they were young and they were free and they had yet to learn about the true dangers of the world. Thirteen year olds often think they have it handled, but they certainly didn’t. Their parents had found them at their favourite house, Jaemin sobbing into Donghyuck’s lap, only calmed by Donghyuck pointing out all the pretty lights as a distraction.
When they were fifteen it had been the place of their first kiss. Donghyuck had been laughing his ass off at a giant blow up santa swaying in the wind like those balloons at car sale yards, when Jaemin had leaned over and kissed him square on the lips. It hadn’t lasted more than five seconds and Donghyuck had gone so red he thought he’d burst — but it was their first. While he hadn’t quite worked out why his palms were slick with sweat or his heart sped up whenever Jaemin was round, he’d enjoyed it all the same. Even if they hadn’t been able to look each other in the eye for weeks after.
When they were sixteen Jaemin had brought him to the house to kiss him again, this time stable and sure, with hands that gripped the back of his neck like he knew what he was doing, even though Donghyuck’s certain he really didn’t. Whether the neighbours minded two teenagers sucking face on their lawn they couldn’t be sure, but no one ever came to chase them away, and still, Donghyuck made sure to point out all the pretty lights as his fingers ran through Jaemin’s hair. He’d worked out his feelings at that point. Speaking them out loud was another challenge entirely.
Thankfully things had gone a little more smoothly after that, as they’d gone together to every single school dance despite adamantly denying that they were a couple. All of their friends simply didn’t mention that they’d never seen them have eyes for anyone else, and when the couple's slow dance came on, pretended not to notice how Jaemin had pulled Donghyuck by the tie and out onto the floor. They made it official at graduation, and everyone pretended to be surprised — especially their parents, who’d probably had an inkling before anyone else. .
College had been their downfall, missed dates due to busy schedules, petty jabs for no reason at all and fights so loud everyone in their vicinity would end up with a splitting headache. One would always disappoint the other, and like a clock, it continued until their batteries ran out. Friends picked sides, and everyone grew apart. Bitterness rose between the two and the accusations worsened, of cheating, of boredom, and neither wanted to delve into what it really meant. What it was covering up, shielding, deep inside. The fears that made running away seem the better alternative.
They broke up, and that had been the end of it.
Coming home from college had been a test. Being neighbours meant it was difficult to ignore each other, so forced smiles and shaky verbal exchanges made up the little interaction they shared. If longing stares were thrown into the mix, Donghyuck chose not to think too hard about it. They went on barely speaking, unresolved feelings haunting Donghyuck wherever he went, every step on the gravel paths a reminder of the past that threatened to swallow him whole.
Until Jaemin had thrown a pebble at his window, and Donghyuck had been forced back into the past so vividly that his body had a mind of his own when it snuck out his window and jumped onto his front lawn, like he was a teenager all over again. Sneaking out to meet his boyfriend.
And here they stand, side by side, staring at each other in front of Jaemin’s beaten up car. Neither moving until the other does. Not knowing what to say, or how to go about this.
It’s Donghyuck who clears his throat, breaking the silence. “So are we doing this, or what?”
Despite the tension between them, Jaemin still manages a sloped smile. “It’d be a shame to break tradition, wouldn’t it?”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes, slamming the car door once he’s inside. The interior has a musky scent, too close to Donghyuck’s favourite perfume for him to be comfortable. Jaemin has always been drawn to those smells, so it isn’t a surprise that it hasn’t changed, but it’s confronting all the same. The seats, despite being as old as they are, are still plush underneath his sweatpants and it brings back one too many memories of moments they’ve shared in this particular car, intimately acquainted. He shivers, waiting as Jaemin plugs his seatbelt in and gets the engine going.
“It’s weird being back,” is the first thing Jaemin utters after the silent drive is about two minutes underway. “Does it feel weird to you?”
Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say. It’s daunting, if anything, being faced with everything he’s managed to avoid at college. His memories of Jaemin and their shared history linger in this town, and unless he uncaps the storage box in the back of his mind holding everything to do with his ex, he never dares bring up anything of his own volition. “I guess. There’s a lot of things I’d forgotten about.”
Jaemin taps the wheel with his thumb, a nervous habit he doesn’t seem to have kicked. “Like the giant statue of the raven over at that one park we used to ditch school to, and we graffitied the shit out of it? Made it pink?”
The ends of Donghyuck’s lips curl into a smile at the fond memory. Oh how he missed that place, and the sort of solace it brought about. They escaped there when they wanted to leave school during the day, but also on lonely nights when parents were fighting, or schoolwork was too hard, or when they just needed to find each other in the looming darkness that always seemed to catch them the further they ran. “Jeno had his first kiss under the wings, right? What was her name?”
“Hyunjin? Heejin?” Jaemin’s forehead crinkles as he does his best to guess, the years too long ago to recall with ease. “Something like that.”
“It obviously didn’t last,” Donghyuck finds himself giggling, recalling the sort of playground drama that had been so important back then. “I think he had other girls under there long after her.”
Jaemin shakes his head, grin lighting up his features. “He really was a little player. Now he’s a hopeless romantic, ready to settle down with the first Tinder match he gets.”
Donghyuck stiffens ever so slightly. Jeno had been the first friend to pick a side during their fights, and most of their exchanges after that have been nothing but awkward. He hasn’t stumbled upon him during the visit back to town and a part of him preys he doesn’t — he had been one of the hardest people to lose, straight from his childhood. That sort of pain doesn’t leave, he’s sure. The mention of him now, what he’s been doing, stings.
Jaemin notes his silence, stare lingering longer than Donghyuck is comfortable with. “He misses you, you know. He wishes it was different.”
Donghyuck turns to stare out the window, nothing in sight besides the occasional street light and empty houses, scattered shrubbery littered with trash. It seems every year people become less enthusiastic about the holidays, and less houses are as decked out as they used to be.
I wish it were different.
He wants to say it, but he’s always been a coward. And it wouldn’t change anything, not now, not when the dust has already settled. There’s nothing he can do except look for stupid Christmas lights, because if he doesn’t owe it to himself now, he owes it to the five year old Donghyuck still gripping his best friend Jaemin tight in the little storage box in his mind.
“That house is pretty,” he murmurs half heartedly, searching for words to fill the void, to fill the gap in his heart that he hasn’t managed to close no matter how many times he stitches it.
“Not the one I’m looking for.”
Jaemin says it with such nonchalance that it piques his interest, but a choking silence follows. It takes a split second for Donghyuck to figure out where they’re going, and his throat tightens. He gets a glimpse of the familiar street sign out the window and Jaemin makes a sharp turn. They follow the familiar road they’ve traipsed across every single year since they were friends, and it’s all too much the closer they get.
“Stop the car,” he whispers.
“What?”
“Please, stop the car.” He speaks louder, voice breaking in places he doesn’t want to.
Jaemin does as he says and comes to a direct stop, no other traffic around for miles to bother with parking it properly. He spins to face Donghyuck who stares down the dashboard, swallowing heavily. He blinks hard, desperate to keep any stray tears in, a sharp refusal to let Jaemin see him so distressed over a house.
“Look at me,” Jaemin whispers.
Donghyuck shakes his head. He can’t, he doesn’t want to. Not when Jaemin is still the same Jaemin he’s known all his life, who he still loves no matter how much time he’s had to change it, even though their break up was months ago. Who it was easier to leave than make their relationship work like it could because giving someone everything is terrifying, and he was ready. Because somehow, being ready is the scary part.
“Donghyuck,” Jaemin persists. “I need to know that you’re okay.”
Donghyuck sputters, but doesn’t lift his gaze. It irritates him, how neutral Jaemin can remain about something like this, how unaffected he sounds. “You’re bringing me back to the house that is everything to us, and you want to know if I’m okay? How could I possibly be okay?”
He hears Jaemin sigh, deep and exasperated. “This was not the plan at all.”
The words have Donghyuck turning to meet his eyes, confusion written all over his features. “The plan?”
Jaemin has the gall to flush, biting his cheek but refusing to avert his gaze. “Yes, Donghyuck. The plan.”
“You had a plan.”
“Yes. I had a plan.”
Donghyuck crosses his arms, the panic seeping away and replacing itself with a wary curiosity. Despite knowing Jaemin for so many years he can’t get a read on him now. “Tell me.”
“The whole point of the, well, plan is that you’re not supposed to— you’re not supposed to, uh, know until I’ve executed it.” The only indication that he’s remotely flustered is the gracelessness with which he stumbles over his words.
“Jaem,” Donghyuck tries for a gentler tone this time, and throws in his nickname for good measure. They’re already digging a deeper hole, he may as well use a damn bulldozer. “C’mon. What’s going on?”
For the first time tonight, Jaemin looks slightly unwound. He runs a hand through his styled hair, ruining it. “This is really embarrassing,” he admits.
“You think?” Donghyuck raises a brow. “I’m stuck in my ex boyfriend's car on the way to complete a childhood tradition, I think we can both admit this is embarrassing.”
Jaemin winces. “Yeah. Well— That’s what I was hoping to talk to you about.”
“You know we can’t break up twice,” Donghyuck mutters. It earns him a small grin, and a break from the building unease.
“Funny. I meant more, about like, us. And the house represents all our milestones so I was going to bring you there and hope it brought back, I don’t know, memories? And you’d be more open to hearing what I have to say.”
“You were going to manipulate a response from me?” Donghyuck says, amused. While Jaemin looks affronted, it’s always been a joy messing with him. He’s missed it terribly, and it’s so easy to revert back to their old ways rather than face what he’s beginning to suspect is their weeping wounds.
He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the determined set to Jaemin’s jaw, and the intense look in his eyes that indicate a verbal bomb about to be dropped, and him as the casualty.
“Donghyuck. I’m trying to say that I’m still in love with you. And— yeah.”
It comes out so suddenly it literally takes his breath away. It catches him completely off guard, that he can’t even hide his bewildered expression before Jaemin is reading it as a negative, and deflates in response.
“I knew that would be your reaction,” Jaemin says, the slightest shake in his voice he can only pick up on from years of hearing it. “Jeno warned me this was a bad idea.”
He doesn’t want to leave any gap for silence to creep in. So he says the first thing that pops into his head, no matter how unhelpful it is. “Jisung told me I’d be stupid to come here too,”
They stew in silence. Donghyuck picks at the threads on his ripped jeans, struggling to think of anything he can say in response. He doesn’t understand how, after all this time, Jaemin can still be in love with him? Their breakup was mutual, and they’d shown nothing but disdain for each other after the fact. Except, maybe—
“I was scared,” Donghyuck spits out before he can talk himself out of it. It freaks him out, how fast they’re moving, but if he stops he’ll never speak again. “I was scared because we’ve already been together for so long, and they say childhood lovers never work out in the end because who can put up with someone for that long, right? And we were already having problems so I just figured hey, maybe it’s better to end it now before it’s too late and we’re married with kids and a dog and we have to put them through all of that, even though i know our problems could have been solved so easily because we’re problem solvers, right? But it was just so easy to leave. Even though I know no one can replace you and it wouldn’t be fair to them to try but I just— it was so easy— and then you just agreed to break up and I was so angry because—”
Jaemin’s hand finds his, and links them together to rest on the console. It stops Donghyuck in his tracks, head spinning from the contact alone. Jaemin’s thumb brushes his, soothing him, in a way only Jaemin can.
“I know,” he says. And he does, Donghyuck realises. Jaemin stares at him the way he always has, like Donghyuck created the universe and he’s just so happy to be living in it with him, at the same time, and nothing about it has changed. Maybe if he’d looked past the bitterness he would have seen it months ago.
“Do you want to go see the lights?” Jaemin asks, pressing a kiss to their joined hands. The warmth stays on Donghyuck’s knuckles long after he pulls away.
“Please,” he answers, eyes filling with tears. He blinks them away.
The house is only a street ahead, a familiar sight to the both of them. It pains Donghyuck to drop Jaemin’s hand as they leave the car, but Jaemin quickly finds him as they sit on the lawn, pulling Donghyuck onto his lap and wrapping his arms around his waist. Making him feel safe and loved, like he always has.
“I’m sorry,” he hears Jaemin whisper. “I’m sorry I went along with the break up. That I didn’t know how to make you stay.”
“Don’t,” Donghyuck grips his thigh, glad he can’t see Jaemin’s face. “We can save that talk for later.”
Jaemin nods against his back, nose nuzzling into his neck. Inhaling his perfume, because it’s what Jaemin does, has always done.
“Look,” Donghyuck prompts him to lift his head, tapping his thigh. “Above the garage. They have little blue stars on a string.”
“Pretty.”
“No blowup Santa though, like when we were teenagers. Such a shame,” he keeps his voice light, on purpose this time. When Jaemin makes a noise of agreement indicating his head is still lifted, Donghyuck turns slightly in his hold to face him. “But I can still do this.”
He presses a quick kiss to Jaemin’s lips. It lasts barely a second and he’s quick to pull away, Jaemin’s cherry lip balm sticky on his mouth. Jaemin’s mouth opens in surprise, eyes wide. He doesn’t give him time to react, leaning back in Jaemin’s hold, the other supporting him even when still in shock. He’s warm, and he’s content. All the rest can wait.
“Hyuck—” Jaemin begins.
“Later,” he replies. “Let’s save it for later. For now, we stay happy and look at the lights.”
Jaemin doesn’t get the memo, or he wants to spite Donghyuck. “Did you say you wanted to have kids with me? Back in the car?”
Donghyuck huffs. “The lights, Jaemin. We’re looking at the lights and saving those conversations for later.”
He can hear the teasing in Jaemin’s tone, clear as the night sky above them. “Okay but I swear you said we’d have kids and a dog— wait, hey!”
Donghyuck turns and shoves Jaemin backwards, falling on top of him with a grunt. It isn’t the smoothest fall, but Jaemin stares at him with such wonder that it’s very much worth it. “What memory are we reliving this time?” Jaemin’s mouth forms a smirk, this time completely aware of what Donghyuck has in mind.
“Since you don’t want to look at the lights, I had to get creative,” he licks his lips, the cherry taste staining his tongue.
Jaemin’s mouth finds his, and nothing has changed. His kisses are gentle where Donghyuck’s are desperate, and Jaemin’s grip tightens on his waist as if he’s scared he’ll slip away at a moments notice. Reacquainting themselves with each other is easier than he’d imagined, and Jaemin swallows the moan that escapes his mouth before he can restrain himself, the delight too overwhelming to hide. He lets out a giggle, Jaemin smiling into their kiss.
It might’ve been a terrible idea to start with, and it may still be in the days that follow. He and Jaemin have never been simple, and rebuilding a relationship that still has its scars is scary. Donghyuck doesn’t want to run away or deny himself the one person he wants out of fear, and from the carefulness with which Jaemin handles him, he knows the feeling is mutual.
But for now, those thoughts can wait — there’s no place he’d rather be.