fic - How Much Do You Know About Santa Claus?
Genre: kinda fluff, almost negligible angst, attempted crack
Length: one-shot
Word count: 3,880
Pairing: Soulmates aka JaeChun
Rating: G
Disclaimer: boys belong to each other themselves out there, but in this fic they're mine to control muahahaha~
A/N: i know it's still too early for christmas, but i always divide the year into 2: anticipation towards Christmas and the reminiscing of past Christmas. this period of time is the "anticipation towards Christmas" time and i've been in Christmas mood on and off for a couple of times and thus the reason why suddenly an x-mas-related plot bunny could appear in my head ^^ won't be putting it in any community until around november or so.
A/N: still trying to be a better writer, concrits are welcome =)
A/N: not in AToDD universe
How Much Do You Know About Santa Claus?
Yoochun couldn't decide if he believed in Santa Claus or not. He couldn't remember if he did in the past, but now, knowing that the hohoho white-bearded man was fake, a part of him wanted to believe otherwise. Maybe it was simply because more than half of parents in the world wanted their kids to behave nearing the festive period and thus created this story of "if you behave, Santa's gonna give you present on Christmas". But what if there was a Santa? What if, even if those parents didn't buy their kids present, those kids would still accept one anyway?
"Yoochun, hurry up. This is your last day of packing, we have new worker coming in soon," barked his boss.
Yoochun's faraway musing went off in a poof. He sighed, packing the last of his papers and small stationery into a box, sealing it up and carried it out of his small dingy office.
It was a couple of months before Christmas, but Yoochun had always anticipated Christmas much earlier than most people. The weather was starting to get cold, and he was kicked out of his only source of income. He just prayed that he had enough in his saving to last through the winter. Yoochun walked all the way back to his house. He had to cut down on unnecessary spending as much as possible and transportation service was something that he could do without because now he was out of job and had all the time in the world to go anywhere he wished on his pair of strong legs.
That night Yoochun sat on his window, looking up at the stars and wondered about things, like childhood dreams, life, and Santa Claus...
He didn't know why he kept on thinking about Santa. Perhaps a tiny part of him was depressed because he was out of job and desperate for a new source of income, and thus started to fantasise about miracles. And with Christmas season looming in the air, for him at least, who was a better miracle-bringer than the hohoho old man?
Yoochun shook his head, wondering if he should contact a psychiatrist, to see if he was developing schizophrenia, or a neurologist, to see if he's developing dementia. He sat on his piano, the only worthy possession present in his small dingy apartment that he spent almost a year's saving for, and started playing some melody.
When he left his piano, he decided to write to Santa.
Yoochun didn't know how to write to Santa. But, he thought that the most important thing was the courage to do it. Santa's supposed to be easily accessible anyway, right? So, he wrote a short letter, putting all of his heart into it in a moment of sheer enthusiasm -or madness, he couldn't decide which- , put the letter into a plain white envelope and wrote on its cover:
To: Santa
Address: Anyplace where this letter could reach you
Yoochun didn't put any return address, Santa wouldn't need that, would he? He pasted stamp that would enable it to reach even the deepest part of Africa, and dropped it at the mailbox at the Post Office.
Then he returned to his daily life. Or, since he was recently retrenched, trying to go about resuming what was left of his daily life. Like, looking for a job, or looking for a job, or sometimes looking for a job. Yoochun looked high and low, searched every nook and cranny of the city, looking for someone who would hire him for a decent, full-time job that could pay for his daily bread. He didn't want to think that his skill was so useless that nobody wanted to hire him. He preferred to think that he was just being unlucky, coz being unlucky meant that his luck would turn for the better sooner or later, whileas being non-skilled meant that he had to go for retraining, and he didn't have money for that.
One day, when he had just been rejected from a small job at a restaurant, he entered the small familiar cafe nearby his house. The owner was nice, the coffee delicious and the cafe was warm and homey. Yoochun wondered how much longer would he be able to afford this humble, warmth-in-a-cup happiness.
Yoochun didn't realise that someone had been standing beside his table for quite some time. When he looked up, he saw a beauty with snow skin and chocolate hair covered in a white fluffy snowcap and a pair of big doe eyes looking straight at him. Moments passed when their eyes just glued to each other, then Yoochun looked down, his cheek felt strangely warm. What's with that guy?
Yoochun almost choked on his coffee when the stranger flopped down in front of him, his hands on the table and half crouching, big brown eyes still intently watching Yoochun. Yoochun squirmed uncomfortably in his seat before gathering up his courage and stared back at the man.
"Can I help you?"
"No, but I can help you."
Yoochun was surprised at the sweet gentle voice coming out of those lips. He was momentarily lost in those eyes again, then he mentally slapped himself and forced those wheels in his brain to start turning.
"Excuse me?"
...So much for a working brain.
The man smiled. Yoochun thought he saw a galaxy behind those twinkling eyes.
"You're "The Cold One"," and Yoochun choked at his own saliva. This guy... No, it couldn't be. But how else....? But....
"You..b-but, you're..." Yoochun sputtered.
The man's smile grew into a blinding grin, supernova that blasted Yoochun's brain out into the next universe. With his brain in half a coma state, Yoochun barely noted that the man didn't comment on his almost accusation.
"But Christmas is not in more than a month's time," way to pick the important point up, Yoochun. "And... You're Santa????"
Later, Yoochun couldn't remember the chain of event that resulted in him letting the guy stayed in his house. Yoochun's defense was that the man's beauty had short-circuited his brain and thus caused him do the otherwise unimaginable. Letting a guy live in your house when you're unemployed and on the verge of being a bankrupt yourself? This definitely wasn't the Christmas miracle that Yoochun was hoping for.
Yoochun learnt that Santa's name was Jaejoong. Apart from being minutely shorter than Yoochun, they have similar body size, making it convenient for Santa, Jaejoong, to borrow Yoochun's clothes. Other than the clothes on his body, Santa didn't own anything else; no wallet, no cellphone, no identity cards, no money, nothing. Santa had apparently set off from his place with nothing but Yoochun's letter, which Yoochun found inside his pants pocket by accident while doing laundry, the ink smudged and the paper crumpled and dirty.
"Not many people know how Santa works,"Jaejoong said, as he munched on a celery stick while Yoochun peeled potatoes in preparation for dinner, "so they asked for things that are impossible for Santa to grant."
Santa had proven his culinary skills to be above Yoochun's, and he had made Yoochun do the preparation and the cleaning-up in exchange of whopping out delicious dinner with their measly budget.
"Explain," Yoochun said, eyes still concentrating on his potatoes. And Santa liked to talk, Yoochun had caught that on early.
"Santa can't give you materialistic items. If you send letter wishing for a house, a sports car, a radio-control toys, we can't deliver them to you. We can only grant unworldly wishes of people."
Yoochun stared at Jaejoong. "Explain," he repeated.
Jaejoong blinked.
"Explain the "we" part."
"Oh, there are quite a number of us working in the service. But, really, there aren't much to do," Jaejoong shrugged. "There are not many believers nowadays, so not often we get to receive letters. Most of the time we just play around and have fun."
Yoochun blinked his confusion down but didn't confess that, with Jaejoong's arrival, the conventional wisdom of Santa Claus in his mind was crumbling down brick by brick.
Santa was just like a regular person. He ate, bathed, enjoyed watching TV, and pretty skilled at cleaning the house. But whenever Yoochun wanted to label him as human, he would look into those eyes that held a galaxy within them and got lost in them. Santa, Jaejoong would walk pass by him and he would catch a whiff of something that made him see the sunshine and field meadows in the summer at the back of his mind. All Jaejoong needed to do was smile and Yoochun swore that the room temperature would raise by a couple of degrees, literally. No human beings should be able to do that. Right?
Soon they fell into a sort of routines: Yoochun would leave in the morning, walking around the city looking for job while Jaejoong scoured around the apartment looking for old newspapers and magazines, hunting as many job vacancy pages as he could. Yoochun would return at home in the evening to prepare dinner, Jaejoong would cook, and they both would end the day scanning whatever Jaejoong had picked up and writing letters to them, applying for jobs. Other nights, Yoochun would take Jaejoong for a walk to the park, to the mall, just around the block to the nearby pastry shop, anywhere Jaejoong would like to go.
"I don't envy those Santas that kids lined up for to get their wishes heard and granted," Jaejoong popped up one day as they walked through a mall. "They must have a huge network to be able to grant so many wishes. Maybe I should ask where they're from and tell them to ease it up a little bit. They're making us out of jobs, people won't bother writing letters anymore if all they could do was line up and tell their wishes up straight."
Yoochun had to pull Santa Jaejoong away from the queue, trying not to blush when kids, and their parents, looked at them funny. He didn't know how to break the news to him, that those Santas to whom little kids were queueing up for were all fakers who were paid by the shopping malls to bring in more business into the lot.
Unbeknownst to Yoochun, Jaejoong also wrote flyers in the day. He advertised a mini piano recital service, performed by Yoochun, of course, and distributed them to restaurants and cafes. Yoochun got a shock one day when Jaejoong told him that he had a couple of restaurants willing to give his service a try. He blasted at Jaejoong for doing it without even consulting him.
Later on Yoochun would sneak behind a sleeping Jaejoong on the couch, tugged on his blanket and told him he was sorry. Jaejoong smiled and touched his cheek, telling him that he was really good at it and he should try playing while waiting for those companies they applied jobs for to get back to him. Yoochun kept quiet, but he tugged on Jaejoong's hand and pulled him to bed, sharing with him the thickest and warmest blanket that he owned.
Sometimes Yoochun wondered if Santa wasn't just one of the guys working in the post office, who had seen his letter, thought the address was amusing and decided to open it up and read it. But Yoochun couldn't imagine how in the world would Jaejoong knew how to find him.
"It wasn't easy, of course. This is a huge city, and there are a lot of people. A lot," Jaejoong shuddered. "But we Santa knew how to look for people, and we can see who are the believers and who are the sceptics. I've searched for you for a couple of weeks before finally finding you in that little cafe," he smiled that galactically blinding smile of his.
"But how did you know that I was the one?"
"There are names flying above you, humans, heads, do you know? Only Santas can read those names, and those without names are those who've sent letter to San..." Jaejoong couldn't finish his sentence because Yoochun had tackled him to the couch, tickling him for lying and using the manga* he had read yesterday as inspiration.
But even as they laid on the couch with Yoochun's snuggling to Jaejoong, curled up, comfortable and sleepy, Jaejoong didn't give further explanation. And Yoochun thought he didn't care about how Jaejoong managed to find him, it was enough that he was there, now, by his side.
Maybe Jaejoong was a real Santa. Yoochun had left some money at the kitchen counter for Jaejoong to use if he wanted to buy anything, knowing that he didn't own a single cent. The money was never touched, but sometimes Yoochun would find a new set of cups on the table or a new floor mat in front of the door.
Jaejoong hit him real hard when Yoochun asked if he was stealing. Santas never steal!
Santa hit nothing like a girl. Ouw. Did he break a tooth?
When Jaejoong gave Yoochun a warm compress for the bruise, Yoochun apologised for doubting him. Jaejoong put his hand over the bruise throughout the night, and the next morning Yoochun could almost swear that it had healed completely.
Once, the electric line to their old apartment building had to be replaced and the occupants were advised to stay at other place for one day for them to fix it. Yoochun and Jaejoong didn't have anywhere else to go. Yoochun came back home with takeaway boxes, but Jaejoong was nowhere to be found. Instead, he found a note that asked him to eat dinner by himself and not to wait for him; Jaejoong was probably going to be home late.
Yoochun waited for him, watches the sky grew darker and the whole house fell into a deep shadow and, soon, darkness. Yoochun played with his handphone, seeking for light. He opened his phonebook, but he didn't know how to contact Jaejoong; that man didn't own a cellphone. A tiny fear crept into his heart.
What if something had happened to Jaejoong?
What if he met a robber, or, worse still, an accident?
What if...he went back to where he came from and not coming back?
Yoochun shook his head, reminding himself that Jaejoong had indicated that he was coming back and willed his mind to stay away from the "what if" territory.
Jaejoong came back well into the night. He clutched 2 big plastic bags in his hands. One of them was filled with candles and candle holders, the other had a huge container of what seemed like ginger soup. Yoochun stared at him unloading the candles, and started lighting them up one by one.
When Jaejoong asked him to help, Yoochun grabbed his waist from the back and pressed his face against Jaejoong's wide shoulders. He didn't say anything, but Jaejoong understood. He turned around and let Yoochun buried himself in his arms.
"I left a note." Didn't you trust me?
"I know." I'm sorry for being scared. I'm glad you're back.
They spent the night on the couch, bundled up in Yoochun's thick blanket and surrounded by numerous candles, drinking sweetened ginger soup that left hot trail down their throat and settled in their stomach. The heater was off but, tucked comfortably under Jaejoong's chin while watching the candle flames flickered, Yoochun had never felt so warm.
"How's the Santa network like?"
"Not much. There are quite a number of us, girls and guys alike, and when we received Christmas wishes, we let those who were interested in the job to take it. Otherwise, we used the normal, diplomatic and fair way to choose who to get to do the job."
"How?"
"Scissors-paper-stone."
They never heard from any of the companies that they've written for. Instead, Yoochun found himself receiving offers to play in many different restaurants and cafes. Apparently Santa's advertising skill was pretty good and he was very dilligent in spreading the words about Yoochun's piano recital service.
But Yoochun hesitated in accepting their offers. Yoochun didn't have proper piano background, his skill on the piano was self-taught; he played when he was down or when he was happy, he wrote songs when he was inspired or frustrated in life. He considered his time with the piano as a very personal time and he was keen to keep it private. He could handle being kicked out of his job, but if people rejected his music, he wasn't sure if he could cope with that.
But Jaejoong had heard Yoochun played, and he knew how good Yoochun was. He urged Yoochun to try at least playing once. Yoochun was sure he exerted his Santa-ish power because in the end Yoochun relented, agreeing to play at the nearby cafe whose coffee had been the source of happiness in some of Yoochun's darker hours.
His first gig was a success, in a sense that there were less than 5 people in the cafe when he started playing, and by the end of his gig there were more than 10 people crowding the place, with the earlier people still in the house. That gave him a small boost of confidence and with a little bit of further pushing (in the form of his declining bank statement and the arrival of bills) Yoochun started his service.
"What happens after you fulfill our wish?"
It was late at night and Yoochun was having one of his bouts of insomnia. He eyed the dark sky outside the window, hand clutching Jaejoong's hand on his waist. Yoochun turned and watched Jaejoong's sleeping form; so serene and peaceful. He hadn't heard Yoochun's earlier question. He kissed those eyelids, snuggled more comfortably against this awesome source of heat, and closed his eyes.
Jaejoong's eyes fluttered open when Yoochun's breathing evened out. He pressed his face against Yoochun's head, breathing in his sweet scent and pressed a kiss onto his hair.
"We leave," he whispered.
Yoochun rode the arrival of the festive season as the bringer of the joyous mood and found a long list of places seeking his service. They let him played his own songs in addition to the obligatory Christmas songs. To his utter delight, people loved his music. He was earning as much as he did from his previous job, his bills were paid for, his savings were fattening back up, and he had never felt so happy going to work. They had stopped scouring for vacancy pages, but Jaejoong still leave the house every afternoon and he never told Yoochun where he was going. But every night he would drop by the places where Yoochun was playing and he would sit in the corner and watch.
Christmas day was a tiring day because Yoochun was fully booked for the whole day. But, even though his back ached and his wrists felt heavy, Yoochun played with joy and enthusiasm.
When he came home, Jaejoong had some surprises waiting for him. He had obtained the biggest bucket Yoochun had ever seen, in which Yoochun could crouch in and soaked his body in hot water immersed with bath salt. He also cooked Yoochun his recently-declared-favourite dish -soft beancurd with sweetened ginger soup- and, later in bed, rub Yoochun's back soothingly as he curled to sleep against Jaejoong's own broad chest.
Even on Boxing Day, Yoochun had a full schedule. He had gigs on 5 different places, from morning til late at night. The morning started off like usual. Jaejoong had cooked breakfast and promised to go to some of the restaurants later to watch him play. Yoochun wasn't surprised to find that his back and wrists felt fine, like he hadn't just pulled off an 8-hour piano-recital marathon the day before.
That night, Jaejoong didn't show up in any of Yoochun's night gigs. That night, Yoochun went home to an empty house.
Yoochun combed his house for any message from Jaejoong; there was none. He ransacked his drawers and cupboards searching for Jaejoong's original clothes; they were gone. There wasn't any trace of him in the house. He told himself not to panic; Jaejoong was just going out for a while, he would be back, he definitely would come back. Yoochun decided to play the piano to calm his nerves while waiting for Jaejoong's voice to greet him, I'm home like usual.
There, inside the cover of his piano, he found something.
It was his letter. The letter to Santa that he had written weeks, months ago. The inks were still smudged. With his eyes blurring, he read his own, hardly intelligible, handwriting.
Dear Santa,
This Christmas I don't wish for big and expensive things. I just wish to feel warm and happy when the world outside is cold and lonely.
Regards,
The Cold One
Yoochun remembered with painful clarity their previous night together. He heard Jaejoong's laughter as he massaged Yoochun's scalp when he was soaking in the bucket. He saw Jaejoong's smile when he ravished down all the food he had cooked for supper. He felt Jaejoong's warmth as he held him in bed, rubbing soothing circles into his back and humming a song that lulled Yoochun to sleep. Yoochun remembered it all and realised that it was the warmest Christmas he had ever experienced in his life.
Santa had fulfilled his wish. And now he was gone.
...Shouldn't a fulfilled-Christmas-wish lasted longer than just on Christmas...?
One day, well into the New Year, Yoochun woke up with his neck stiff and the smell of coffee wafting in the air. He jumped off the couch and went to the kitchen.
He was greeted with the sight of Jaejoong brewing coffee in a small coffee machine, one that he didn't remember owning, and casually dressed in Yoochun's t-shirt and shorts.
Was that really Jaejoong? Was it the combination of overworking himself and crying too much in the past weeks that resulted in this hallucination? He didn't want to be a schizophrenic, but he desperately wanted to see Jaejoong again.
Jaejoong turned around with Yoochun still standing agape, shocked, and afraid to believe his own eyes. He gave a soft smile and walked closer. His hands caressed Yoochun's face, fingers trailing down the traces of tears down his cheeks.
"Have you been sleeping on the couch, waiting for me, and crying to sleep every night since I was gone?"
He was Jaejoong alright, still with the Santa-ish power that could read Yoochun so easily like the back of his mind. Yoochun wanted to punch him for making him worried, slap him for breaking his heart, strangle him for leaving without a word, and torture him inside out for leaving those goddamn gig contracts that he still had to fulfill even though his heart was leaking blood and all he wanted to do was spend the whole day bawling his heart out on his bed while smothering himself on the Santa's pillow.
His brain screamed profanities at his heart when Yoochun felt his body moved on its own accord, pulling Jaejoong into a tight hug, burying his head at the crook of his neck.
"..." he couldn't find anything to say. There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask, to scream, too many of them.
As always, Jaejoong understood him.
"Santa?" Yoochun finally croaked.
"I resigned."
- End -
*) Death Note
Length: one-shot
Word count: 3,880
Pairing: Soulmates aka JaeChun
Rating: G
Disclaimer: boys belong to each other themselves out there, but in this fic they're mine to control muahahaha~
A/N: i know it's still too early for christmas, but i always divide the year into 2: anticipation towards Christmas and the reminiscing of past Christmas. this period of time is the "anticipation towards Christmas" time and i've been in Christmas mood on and off for a couple of times and thus the reason why suddenly an x-mas-related plot bunny could appear in my head ^^ won't be putting it in any community until around november or so.
A/N: still trying to be a better writer, concrits are welcome =)
A/N: not in AToDD universe
How Much Do You Know About Santa Claus?
Yoochun couldn't decide if he believed in Santa Claus or not. He couldn't remember if he did in the past, but now, knowing that the hohoho white-bearded man was fake, a part of him wanted to believe otherwise. Maybe it was simply because more than half of parents in the world wanted their kids to behave nearing the festive period and thus created this story of "if you behave, Santa's gonna give you present on Christmas". But what if there was a Santa? What if, even if those parents didn't buy their kids present, those kids would still accept one anyway?
"Yoochun, hurry up. This is your last day of packing, we have new worker coming in soon," barked his boss.
Yoochun's faraway musing went off in a poof. He sighed, packing the last of his papers and small stationery into a box, sealing it up and carried it out of his small dingy office.
It was a couple of months before Christmas, but Yoochun had always anticipated Christmas much earlier than most people. The weather was starting to get cold, and he was kicked out of his only source of income. He just prayed that he had enough in his saving to last through the winter. Yoochun walked all the way back to his house. He had to cut down on unnecessary spending as much as possible and transportation service was something that he could do without because now he was out of job and had all the time in the world to go anywhere he wished on his pair of strong legs.
That night Yoochun sat on his window, looking up at the stars and wondered about things, like childhood dreams, life, and Santa Claus...
He didn't know why he kept on thinking about Santa. Perhaps a tiny part of him was depressed because he was out of job and desperate for a new source of income, and thus started to fantasise about miracles. And with Christmas season looming in the air, for him at least, who was a better miracle-bringer than the hohoho old man?
Yoochun shook his head, wondering if he should contact a psychiatrist, to see if he was developing schizophrenia, or a neurologist, to see if he's developing dementia. He sat on his piano, the only worthy possession present in his small dingy apartment that he spent almost a year's saving for, and started playing some melody.
When he left his piano, he decided to write to Santa.
Yoochun didn't know how to write to Santa. But, he thought that the most important thing was the courage to do it. Santa's supposed to be easily accessible anyway, right? So, he wrote a short letter, putting all of his heart into it in a moment of sheer enthusiasm -or madness, he couldn't decide which- , put the letter into a plain white envelope and wrote on its cover:
To: Santa
Address: Anyplace where this letter could reach you
Yoochun didn't put any return address, Santa wouldn't need that, would he? He pasted stamp that would enable it to reach even the deepest part of Africa, and dropped it at the mailbox at the Post Office.
Then he returned to his daily life. Or, since he was recently retrenched, trying to go about resuming what was left of his daily life. Like, looking for a job, or looking for a job, or sometimes looking for a job. Yoochun looked high and low, searched every nook and cranny of the city, looking for someone who would hire him for a decent, full-time job that could pay for his daily bread. He didn't want to think that his skill was so useless that nobody wanted to hire him. He preferred to think that he was just being unlucky, coz being unlucky meant that his luck would turn for the better sooner or later, whileas being non-skilled meant that he had to go for retraining, and he didn't have money for that.
One day, when he had just been rejected from a small job at a restaurant, he entered the small familiar cafe nearby his house. The owner was nice, the coffee delicious and the cafe was warm and homey. Yoochun wondered how much longer would he be able to afford this humble, warmth-in-a-cup happiness.
Yoochun didn't realise that someone had been standing beside his table for quite some time. When he looked up, he saw a beauty with snow skin and chocolate hair covered in a white fluffy snowcap and a pair of big doe eyes looking straight at him. Moments passed when their eyes just glued to each other, then Yoochun looked down, his cheek felt strangely warm. What's with that guy?
Yoochun almost choked on his coffee when the stranger flopped down in front of him, his hands on the table and half crouching, big brown eyes still intently watching Yoochun. Yoochun squirmed uncomfortably in his seat before gathering up his courage and stared back at the man.
"Can I help you?"
"No, but I can help you."
Yoochun was surprised at the sweet gentle voice coming out of those lips. He was momentarily lost in those eyes again, then he mentally slapped himself and forced those wheels in his brain to start turning.
"Excuse me?"
...So much for a working brain.
The man smiled. Yoochun thought he saw a galaxy behind those twinkling eyes.
"You're "The Cold One"," and Yoochun choked at his own saliva. This guy... No, it couldn't be. But how else....? But....
"You..b-but, you're..." Yoochun sputtered.
The man's smile grew into a blinding grin, supernova that blasted Yoochun's brain out into the next universe. With his brain in half a coma state, Yoochun barely noted that the man didn't comment on his almost accusation.
"But Christmas is not in more than a month's time," way to pick the important point up, Yoochun. "And... You're Santa????"
Later, Yoochun couldn't remember the chain of event that resulted in him letting the guy stayed in his house. Yoochun's defense was that the man's beauty had short-circuited his brain and thus caused him do the otherwise unimaginable. Letting a guy live in your house when you're unemployed and on the verge of being a bankrupt yourself? This definitely wasn't the Christmas miracle that Yoochun was hoping for.
Yoochun learnt that Santa's name was Jaejoong. Apart from being minutely shorter than Yoochun, they have similar body size, making it convenient for Santa, Jaejoong, to borrow Yoochun's clothes. Other than the clothes on his body, Santa didn't own anything else; no wallet, no cellphone, no identity cards, no money, nothing. Santa had apparently set off from his place with nothing but Yoochun's letter, which Yoochun found inside his pants pocket by accident while doing laundry, the ink smudged and the paper crumpled and dirty.
"Not many people know how Santa works,"Jaejoong said, as he munched on a celery stick while Yoochun peeled potatoes in preparation for dinner, "so they asked for things that are impossible for Santa to grant."
Santa had proven his culinary skills to be above Yoochun's, and he had made Yoochun do the preparation and the cleaning-up in exchange of whopping out delicious dinner with their measly budget.
"Explain," Yoochun said, eyes still concentrating on his potatoes. And Santa liked to talk, Yoochun had caught that on early.
"Santa can't give you materialistic items. If you send letter wishing for a house, a sports car, a radio-control toys, we can't deliver them to you. We can only grant unworldly wishes of people."
Yoochun stared at Jaejoong. "Explain," he repeated.
Jaejoong blinked.
"Explain the "we" part."
"Oh, there are quite a number of us working in the service. But, really, there aren't much to do," Jaejoong shrugged. "There are not many believers nowadays, so not often we get to receive letters. Most of the time we just play around and have fun."
Yoochun blinked his confusion down but didn't confess that, with Jaejoong's arrival, the conventional wisdom of Santa Claus in his mind was crumbling down brick by brick.
Santa was just like a regular person. He ate, bathed, enjoyed watching TV, and pretty skilled at cleaning the house. But whenever Yoochun wanted to label him as human, he would look into those eyes that held a galaxy within them and got lost in them. Santa, Jaejoong would walk pass by him and he would catch a whiff of something that made him see the sunshine and field meadows in the summer at the back of his mind. All Jaejoong needed to do was smile and Yoochun swore that the room temperature would raise by a couple of degrees, literally. No human beings should be able to do that. Right?
Soon they fell into a sort of routines: Yoochun would leave in the morning, walking around the city looking for job while Jaejoong scoured around the apartment looking for old newspapers and magazines, hunting as many job vacancy pages as he could. Yoochun would return at home in the evening to prepare dinner, Jaejoong would cook, and they both would end the day scanning whatever Jaejoong had picked up and writing letters to them, applying for jobs. Other nights, Yoochun would take Jaejoong for a walk to the park, to the mall, just around the block to the nearby pastry shop, anywhere Jaejoong would like to go.
"I don't envy those Santas that kids lined up for to get their wishes heard and granted," Jaejoong popped up one day as they walked through a mall. "They must have a huge network to be able to grant so many wishes. Maybe I should ask where they're from and tell them to ease it up a little bit. They're making us out of jobs, people won't bother writing letters anymore if all they could do was line up and tell their wishes up straight."
Yoochun had to pull Santa Jaejoong away from the queue, trying not to blush when kids, and their parents, looked at them funny. He didn't know how to break the news to him, that those Santas to whom little kids were queueing up for were all fakers who were paid by the shopping malls to bring in more business into the lot.
Unbeknownst to Yoochun, Jaejoong also wrote flyers in the day. He advertised a mini piano recital service, performed by Yoochun, of course, and distributed them to restaurants and cafes. Yoochun got a shock one day when Jaejoong told him that he had a couple of restaurants willing to give his service a try. He blasted at Jaejoong for doing it without even consulting him.
Later on Yoochun would sneak behind a sleeping Jaejoong on the couch, tugged on his blanket and told him he was sorry. Jaejoong smiled and touched his cheek, telling him that he was really good at it and he should try playing while waiting for those companies they applied jobs for to get back to him. Yoochun kept quiet, but he tugged on Jaejoong's hand and pulled him to bed, sharing with him the thickest and warmest blanket that he owned.
Sometimes Yoochun wondered if Santa wasn't just one of the guys working in the post office, who had seen his letter, thought the address was amusing and decided to open it up and read it. But Yoochun couldn't imagine how in the world would Jaejoong knew how to find him.
"It wasn't easy, of course. This is a huge city, and there are a lot of people. A lot," Jaejoong shuddered. "But we Santa knew how to look for people, and we can see who are the believers and who are the sceptics. I've searched for you for a couple of weeks before finally finding you in that little cafe," he smiled that galactically blinding smile of his.
"But how did you know that I was the one?"
"There are names flying above you, humans, heads, do you know? Only Santas can read those names, and those without names are those who've sent letter to San..." Jaejoong couldn't finish his sentence because Yoochun had tackled him to the couch, tickling him for lying and using the manga* he had read yesterday as inspiration.
But even as they laid on the couch with Yoochun's snuggling to Jaejoong, curled up, comfortable and sleepy, Jaejoong didn't give further explanation. And Yoochun thought he didn't care about how Jaejoong managed to find him, it was enough that he was there, now, by his side.
Maybe Jaejoong was a real Santa. Yoochun had left some money at the kitchen counter for Jaejoong to use if he wanted to buy anything, knowing that he didn't own a single cent. The money was never touched, but sometimes Yoochun would find a new set of cups on the table or a new floor mat in front of the door.
Jaejoong hit him real hard when Yoochun asked if he was stealing. Santas never steal!
Santa hit nothing like a girl. Ouw. Did he break a tooth?
When Jaejoong gave Yoochun a warm compress for the bruise, Yoochun apologised for doubting him. Jaejoong put his hand over the bruise throughout the night, and the next morning Yoochun could almost swear that it had healed completely.
Once, the electric line to their old apartment building had to be replaced and the occupants were advised to stay at other place for one day for them to fix it. Yoochun and Jaejoong didn't have anywhere else to go. Yoochun came back home with takeaway boxes, but Jaejoong was nowhere to be found. Instead, he found a note that asked him to eat dinner by himself and not to wait for him; Jaejoong was probably going to be home late.
Yoochun waited for him, watches the sky grew darker and the whole house fell into a deep shadow and, soon, darkness. Yoochun played with his handphone, seeking for light. He opened his phonebook, but he didn't know how to contact Jaejoong; that man didn't own a cellphone. A tiny fear crept into his heart.
What if something had happened to Jaejoong?
What if he met a robber, or, worse still, an accident?
What if...he went back to where he came from and not coming back?
Yoochun shook his head, reminding himself that Jaejoong had indicated that he was coming back and willed his mind to stay away from the "what if" territory.
Jaejoong came back well into the night. He clutched 2 big plastic bags in his hands. One of them was filled with candles and candle holders, the other had a huge container of what seemed like ginger soup. Yoochun stared at him unloading the candles, and started lighting them up one by one.
When Jaejoong asked him to help, Yoochun grabbed his waist from the back and pressed his face against Jaejoong's wide shoulders. He didn't say anything, but Jaejoong understood. He turned around and let Yoochun buried himself in his arms.
"I left a note." Didn't you trust me?
"I know." I'm sorry for being scared. I'm glad you're back.
They spent the night on the couch, bundled up in Yoochun's thick blanket and surrounded by numerous candles, drinking sweetened ginger soup that left hot trail down their throat and settled in their stomach. The heater was off but, tucked comfortably under Jaejoong's chin while watching the candle flames flickered, Yoochun had never felt so warm.
"How's the Santa network like?"
"Not much. There are quite a number of us, girls and guys alike, and when we received Christmas wishes, we let those who were interested in the job to take it. Otherwise, we used the normal, diplomatic and fair way to choose who to get to do the job."
"How?"
"Scissors-paper-stone."
They never heard from any of the companies that they've written for. Instead, Yoochun found himself receiving offers to play in many different restaurants and cafes. Apparently Santa's advertising skill was pretty good and he was very dilligent in spreading the words about Yoochun's piano recital service.
But Yoochun hesitated in accepting their offers. Yoochun didn't have proper piano background, his skill on the piano was self-taught; he played when he was down or when he was happy, he wrote songs when he was inspired or frustrated in life. He considered his time with the piano as a very personal time and he was keen to keep it private. He could handle being kicked out of his job, but if people rejected his music, he wasn't sure if he could cope with that.
But Jaejoong had heard Yoochun played, and he knew how good Yoochun was. He urged Yoochun to try at least playing once. Yoochun was sure he exerted his Santa-ish power because in the end Yoochun relented, agreeing to play at the nearby cafe whose coffee had been the source of happiness in some of Yoochun's darker hours.
His first gig was a success, in a sense that there were less than 5 people in the cafe when he started playing, and by the end of his gig there were more than 10 people crowding the place, with the earlier people still in the house. That gave him a small boost of confidence and with a little bit of further pushing (in the form of his declining bank statement and the arrival of bills) Yoochun started his service.
"What happens after you fulfill our wish?"
It was late at night and Yoochun was having one of his bouts of insomnia. He eyed the dark sky outside the window, hand clutching Jaejoong's hand on his waist. Yoochun turned and watched Jaejoong's sleeping form; so serene and peaceful. He hadn't heard Yoochun's earlier question. He kissed those eyelids, snuggled more comfortably against this awesome source of heat, and closed his eyes.
Jaejoong's eyes fluttered open when Yoochun's breathing evened out. He pressed his face against Yoochun's head, breathing in his sweet scent and pressed a kiss onto his hair.
"We leave," he whispered.
Yoochun rode the arrival of the festive season as the bringer of the joyous mood and found a long list of places seeking his service. They let him played his own songs in addition to the obligatory Christmas songs. To his utter delight, people loved his music. He was earning as much as he did from his previous job, his bills were paid for, his savings were fattening back up, and he had never felt so happy going to work. They had stopped scouring for vacancy pages, but Jaejoong still leave the house every afternoon and he never told Yoochun where he was going. But every night he would drop by the places where Yoochun was playing and he would sit in the corner and watch.
Christmas day was a tiring day because Yoochun was fully booked for the whole day. But, even though his back ached and his wrists felt heavy, Yoochun played with joy and enthusiasm.
When he came home, Jaejoong had some surprises waiting for him. He had obtained the biggest bucket Yoochun had ever seen, in which Yoochun could crouch in and soaked his body in hot water immersed with bath salt. He also cooked Yoochun his recently-declared-favourite dish -soft beancurd with sweetened ginger soup- and, later in bed, rub Yoochun's back soothingly as he curled to sleep against Jaejoong's own broad chest.
Even on Boxing Day, Yoochun had a full schedule. He had gigs on 5 different places, from morning til late at night. The morning started off like usual. Jaejoong had cooked breakfast and promised to go to some of the restaurants later to watch him play. Yoochun wasn't surprised to find that his back and wrists felt fine, like he hadn't just pulled off an 8-hour piano-recital marathon the day before.
That night, Jaejoong didn't show up in any of Yoochun's night gigs. That night, Yoochun went home to an empty house.
Yoochun combed his house for any message from Jaejoong; there was none. He ransacked his drawers and cupboards searching for Jaejoong's original clothes; they were gone. There wasn't any trace of him in the house. He told himself not to panic; Jaejoong was just going out for a while, he would be back, he definitely would come back. Yoochun decided to play the piano to calm his nerves while waiting for Jaejoong's voice to greet him, I'm home like usual.
There, inside the cover of his piano, he found something.
It was his letter. The letter to Santa that he had written weeks, months ago. The inks were still smudged. With his eyes blurring, he read his own, hardly intelligible, handwriting.
Dear Santa,
This Christmas I don't wish for big and expensive things. I just wish to feel warm and happy when the world outside is cold and lonely.
Regards,
The Cold One
Yoochun remembered with painful clarity their previous night together. He heard Jaejoong's laughter as he massaged Yoochun's scalp when he was soaking in the bucket. He saw Jaejoong's smile when he ravished down all the food he had cooked for supper. He felt Jaejoong's warmth as he held him in bed, rubbing soothing circles into his back and humming a song that lulled Yoochun to sleep. Yoochun remembered it all and realised that it was the warmest Christmas he had ever experienced in his life.
Santa had fulfilled his wish. And now he was gone.
...Shouldn't a fulfilled-Christmas-wish lasted longer than just on Christmas...?
One day, well into the New Year, Yoochun woke up with his neck stiff and the smell of coffee wafting in the air. He jumped off the couch and went to the kitchen.
He was greeted with the sight of Jaejoong brewing coffee in a small coffee machine, one that he didn't remember owning, and casually dressed in Yoochun's t-shirt and shorts.
Was that really Jaejoong? Was it the combination of overworking himself and crying too much in the past weeks that resulted in this hallucination? He didn't want to be a schizophrenic, but he desperately wanted to see Jaejoong again.
Jaejoong turned around with Yoochun still standing agape, shocked, and afraid to believe his own eyes. He gave a soft smile and walked closer. His hands caressed Yoochun's face, fingers trailing down the traces of tears down his cheeks.
"Have you been sleeping on the couch, waiting for me, and crying to sleep every night since I was gone?"
He was Jaejoong alright, still with the Santa-ish power that could read Yoochun so easily like the back of his mind. Yoochun wanted to punch him for making him worried, slap him for breaking his heart, strangle him for leaving without a word, and torture him inside out for leaving those goddamn gig contracts that he still had to fulfill even though his heart was leaking blood and all he wanted to do was spend the whole day bawling his heart out on his bed while smothering himself on the Santa's pillow.
His brain screamed profanities at his heart when Yoochun felt his body moved on its own accord, pulling Jaejoong into a tight hug, burying his head at the crook of his neck.
"..." he couldn't find anything to say. There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask, to scream, too many of them.
As always, Jaejoong understood him.
"Santa?" Yoochun finally croaked.
"I resigned."
- End -
*) Death Note