Cute.

1.

"Thank you so much for coming," Kawi says, helping Pearmai into her jacket, then wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"Of course," she replies, hugging him even tighter until her hair tickles his nose. "We should do this every year; make it our tradition." 

It’s their first Christmas in their new home, their first shared place, and Kawi wasn’t sure if they’re too young to host dinner parties, if it would be boring, but his stomach still hurts from how much they laughed, and he feels pleasantly tipsy, his cheeks a little flushed, and his head a little lighter than usual.

"Maybe next year you can bring James along, huh?" Kawi suggests. " You really need to introduce him to us." 

Pearmai laughs, her expression joyful and a little bit bashful. "Let's see if it lasts. It’s only been a few weeks, and I want to take it slow this time. I don't need another relationship that leads nowhere." 

"Yeah, I understand," Kawi says quietly, because he’s seen all the men who broke her heart over the years—he's one of them—and held her in his arms too many times when she cried, silently cursing the universe for not giving her the same chance at happiness that he got when she’s so infinitely more deserving of it. But this is not the night to dwell on old wounds and memories, so he squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest instead, before saying, "He better treat you right, or else!" 
 
"I'll beat him up!" comes Pisaeng’s voice from the back, his words slurred and being swallowed by hiccups.
 
"You're not doing anything in that state you're in," Max tells him, holding Pisaeng up with an arm slung around his waist. "Uff, you’re heavy."
 
"I love you so much, man," Pisaeng mumbles, taking Max's face in his hands and placing a big, shaking kiss on his cheek, then another, and a third one, while Max grimaces to hide the smile that's tugging at his lips.
 
"Alright, I get it. I love you, too. But we're leaving now. Kawi?" Max calls over to him, his face a little bit desperate as he’s searching for Kawi’s eyes. "Please take your man away from me!"
 
Kawi snorts and rushes over to Max’s side to free him from Pisaeng’s sluggish limbs that are clinging to him. Kawi groans under his weight, but Pisaeng just leans into his side with a dopey, hazy grin on his lips, huddling closer as he hums contentedly.
 
"Let’s go to bed," Pisaeng mumbles, turning his face to kiss Kawi’s cheek, and his voice carries a hint of suggestion that makes Max fake a choking sound.
 
"Okay, that’s our cue to leave," he quickly says, throwing on his jacket and ushering the others out the door. "Goodnight, guys. This was fun. But I don’t need to see the rest of the fun, so see you later!"

Kawi looks after them as they walk down the corridor and over to the elevator, smiling at their retreating forms and revelling in the remnants of that familial warmth he always feels when they all come together like this.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you earlier, but I ran into Not the other day," he hears Kwan say. "He says hi." 

Max and Pear both groan, looking up at the ceiling in sync, before Pearmai says, "Kwan, please, not again," linking their arms as if to put her on the right track.
 
But Kwan shakes her head and laughs. "God, no, don't worry. That's so over. But he was nice. Well, as nice as you can expect from him. He asked about you guys and said how he'd like to meet up with the old gang."
 
"I never thought we'd hear from Not again, not now that he's become famous," Pear comments, leaning against the wall next to the elevator as they wait.
 
Max just gives her a dismissive huff as the doors open in front of them. "Come on, he sold a few more books than the first time around."
 
"He’s on the bestseller list, Max," Kwan reminds him as they step inside. "I saw him on a TV show, too."
 
And then the doors close behind them, and Kawi smiles to himself as he closes the one to their apartment, the quiet click of the lock announcing the end of the night. 
 
"You always meet twice, as they say," Kawi muses quietly, shaking his head a little bit, because while these words may mean so much more to him than to others, they still hold truth for everyone. "Everything comes full circle in the end, doesn't it?" 
 
"Yeah," Pisaeng agrees, giving his shoulder a squeeze before walking back over into the living room, but stopping in his tracks to pick something up from the ground, swaying precariously. "Hey, Kawi. Look!" he says when he stands up straight again, though heavily alist, pointing at his own head that’s now graced with an antler headband, entirely askew and almost falling off right away.
 
"Lovely," Kawi deadpans, despite the fact that Pisaeng does indeed look wholly adorable with this childlike joy on his face. "But I'd prefer it if you'd help me clean up so we can go to bed. I’m tired." 
 
"You’re so cute when you're mad at me," Pisaeng slurs, tilting his head to the side and chortling like a little boy. His cheeks are flushed, and his hair is dishevelled, sticking up at the top. It’s endearing, but Pisaeng doesn’t need to know that, lest he get too cocky.
 
"Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s all you ever say," Kawi grumbles instead, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his brow.
 
"‘Cause you are," Pisaeng coos, coming back over to him, a dopey, lopsided grin on his face as he pinches Kawi’s cheeks. "So, so cute. I love it when you pout," he babbles, chuckling to himself.
 
Kawi slaps his hands away, holding his wrists down because he’s neither a child nor a kitten, even though Pisaeng always insists he behaves like both. "Stop that." 
 
"No, really, you look so sweet, even though I know you’re secretly an old man," Pisaeng says with wide eyes and a conspiratorial whisper that’s not a whisper at all. "I won’t tell anyone; don’t worry. Who would believe me anyway, right? It’s so crazy."
 
"It is, yeah," Kawi agrees with a chuckle, his face softening once he has his back to Pisaeng to walk back into the kitchen, grabbing a pile of plates along the way. 
 
These days, he rarely thinks about it, about the fact that he lived another life—two, maybe even three—before settling into this one, and the crystal ball now sits almost forgotten on their bedroom dresser, just a sentimental piece of decoration. He doesn't even know if it still works or if it has already lost its power, but he has no real desire to find out. He's okay where he is, content, most days even happy. It's a strangely simple life they're living, mundane, and filled with routine, but even though he knows there are endless possibilities and lives out there for him to live, he wouldn't trade this one for anything. He almost has his dream career, he has a circle of friends that is small but close as family to him; and he has so many memories here, good and bad, that he wouldn't alter a single thing about them. And he has Pisaeng, the partner he didn't dream of, didn't even consider back then, yet he found the kind of steady, quiet happiness with him that he never truly thought he'd find.
 
Pisaeng, who's currently trying to sneak up to where he's standing over the sink washing dishes, but his loud hiccups and the way he bumps into the kitchen counter on his way over betray him. Kawi grins before Pisaeng's arms even find their way around his waist, expecting the stubble against his neck and the wet, uncoordinated kisses Pisaeng leaves there before nuzzling against his shoulder with a sigh. They've spent countless nights like this—relaxed, loose, and a little bit tipsy—on wine or each other. And Kawi cherishes them, enjoying the mellow comfort of just being with each other like this—two people in love, sharing a hug while doing chores. Except that Pisaeng loses his balance and almost topples both of them over with the way he clings to Kawi's waist. 
 
"Easy there," Kawi warns him through a laugh, his wet and slippery hands from the dishwater barely able to catch their fall. 
 
"Sorry, babe," Pisaeng murmurs, tightening his grip around Kawi's waist and swaying them, voluntarily or because he can't keep his balance, Kawi isn't sure. "Love you. So much. Like… so, so much. Always." 
 
His words are hazy and slurred together, and his eyes can’t seem to focus when Kawi takes his face in his hands to look at him. "Alright, let's get you to bed," he says gently. "You'll have a terrible hangover tomorrow." 
 
"No, let's dance again," Pisaeng protests, trying to straighten himself and putting his hands on Kawi’s hips to draw him in. 
 
"There's no music," Kawi reminds him with a laugh, but Piseng just shrugs.
 
"Sing for me, then," he mumbles, pulling Kawi closer until he relents and holds onto Piseang’s arms. "I love it when you sing. You could've been a big star, you know. You'd have been on the T-pop show and everything; I just know it. And I would've been there in the crowd, cheering you on. I'd have been your biggest fan. Bought all your merch, and all that. And then I'd have come backstage to seduce you," he finishes with another snicker, wiggling his brows in a way that isn’t sexy at all.
 
Kawi huffs out a laugh and hums, leaning his head against Pisaeng’s shoulder and steadying him with his arms firmly wrapped around his back as they slowly move from side to side in their kitchen. Kawi never fully told him about that time—that wasted decade they lived where he was famous and Pisaeng was a mere side character to his own selfish success story. He doesn't need to know about the pain they both endured there, about that version of Kawi that left a path of devastation wherever he went, drowning his own sorrows in greed and alcohol. He's not this man anymore, and he vowed to do better for himself and Pisaeng. It’s in the past—or the future, depending on how he looks at it—but either way, it doesn’t matter anymore. But in a way, he's glad to know that a part of this Pisaeng remains in the one he's holding right now, that even though they didn't consciously share all parts of their history, all of them somehow converge in every moment they have together.
 
"I love you, too," Kawi says eventually, his words muffled where his face is nestled against Pisaeng's collarbones, but he knows he's heard when Pisaeng sighs happily and squeezes him ever tighter.
 
And then he yawns, loud and dramatic, directly into Kawi’s ear.
 
"Ugh, okay. That's enough for tonight. Come on," Kawi says, winding out of Pisaeng's embrace and grabbing his arm to drag him towards the bathroom.
 
Kawi sits him down on the edge of the bathtub, helps him out of his tacky Christmas jumper, and sticks a toothbrush into his mouth. "Anything you want, baby," Pisaeng replies, decidedly not brushing his teeth but simply watching Kawi as he fills up a glass of water and places it next to him, as well as an aspirin in foresight.
 
"Don’t call me that; you know I hate it," Kawi says on his way over to the dressing room to fetch them pyjamas and fresh towels.
 
"You don’t. You love it. Baby," Pisaeng calls over to him with a mouth full of toothpaste.
 
Over in the bedroom, Kawi chuckles to himself as he throws back the bedspread and fluffs out Pisaeng’s pillow. Kawi does love it a little bit, at least when they’re alone and especially when they’re intimate. But it never stopped being funny to tease Pisaeng, to play this little game where he acts aloof and is rewarded with Pisaeng’s need to soften him up by showing him even more affection. It’s the way they’ve always been, and Kawi’s eyes stop at the picture frame now that sits on Pisaeng’s bedside table, holding a photograph of them that is old and faded, back from the days when they first started out. They look happy in it, younger and more innocent. Their love was different back then—not as lived-in and secure as it is now—yet clearly visible in the way Pisaeng looks at him and Kawi grins so brightly. Kawi has a matching one on his side of the bed, a new one they took just last year, yet the expression on Pisaeng’s face is the same—that same endless adoration that he’ll likely never get used to, and that still takes Kawi’s breath away sometimes.