ISS 2012: for neko_valentine
Title: Fire and Ice
Pairing/Focus: Hoya/Dongwoo
Rating: PG
Word count: 3,600
Summary: These Santas know how to skate!
To: neko_valentine
From: Your Secret Santa
“So…” Dongwoo said, and looked over at the Santa he’d been partnered with. He looked more like a king reclining on his throne than a jolly santa, but the children seemed to enjoy his posturing. “How long did you say you’ve been here?” The Santa tilted his head to look at him coolly. What had been his name? Ah-Howon, right? Howon sighed and crossed his legs again.
“I’ve always been here.”
“No, I mean like-when did you get here, like what time…”
“I’ve always been here,” Howon repeated, and another child crawled into his lap. “Yo ho,” he said automatically. The child turned around.
“What kind of Santa are you?” he asked. “Yo Ho? Isn’t that what pirates say?”
“Eyes front. Merry Christmas,” Howon said, and slapped the child on his buttocks as he slipped off his lap and toddled away. Dongwoo smiled and waved, and the bells on his sleeve jingled when he raised his hand.
---
It wasn’t until the end of rush hour when Howon finally turned to look at him, hat askew and the front of his pants rumpled. He stood up to stretch.
“You the new guy?” he asked.
Dongwoo laughed. Something about the expression on his face-bored and arrogant-coupled with his lazy questioning made him want to take a chance.
“No, I’m the old guy,” he said playfully.
“Right,” Howon said, but he looked startled, and that pleased Dongwoo. Howon checked his watch and stood up. “Follow me.”
He led Dongwoo past a Uniqlo to a row of lockers tucked away near the stairs. He took a key out of his pocket and gave it to Dongwoo. It was uncomfortably warm and for a second, Dongwoo could only think about all those children sitting on his lap and the key sandwiched between their butts and Howon’s thighs, but he put it in his pocket anyway. Howon crouched down and tapped the bottom center locker-number 139. “This holds a set of spare clothes,” he said. “Bathroom is right across the hall. Anybody poops or pees or bleeds on you, you change the clothes and toss the old ones.”
“Okay,” Dongwoo said. That didn’t sound too hard. “What next?”
“We go back and sit for another four hours,” Howon said. Dongwoo sighed and began to stretch, anticipating the cramps to come. “I’ll give you a tour later this week,” Howon continued, giving him a sideways look. He checked his watch and began to walk back to their setup near the Christmas tree.
“Huh,” Dongwoo said, and followed him slowly. Had he just-no way.
By the end of their shift, Dongwoo was sitting on the faux snow carpet and ringing Howon’s bell with a slightly crazed grin on his face. A crushed box lay discreetly behind the throne from when he had tried to sit on it.
---
Afterwards, Howon led him down to the ground floor and into a service corridor. They stopped in front of a door with a taped sign that read UNION. “Twenty thousand won,” he said. Dongwoo stepped back.
“I thought the uniform was included,” he said.
Howon shoved his hands in his pockets again. “It’s the membership fee. You work here, you join the Santa Workers’ union.” Dongwoo laughed.
“It’s only temp work,” he said, but he pulled out his wallet anyway. “Is it tax-deductible?” he joked. Howon took his bills and opened the door. The room was dark inside. Howon slid his hand along the wall and pressed a light switch that turned on a lightbulb screwed into the wall. The ceiling was pipework, and a dusty filing cabinet took up one-eighth of the room. Three up-side-down janitor buckets were arranged around a shipping pallet covered with an unfolded cardboard box.
Howon picked his way over to the filing cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. Dongwoo winced at the rusty screech of metal. Howon fished around and then pulled out a card. “Your membership card,” he said, and handed it to Dongwoo. He then reached down and pulled open the bottom drawer. Dongwoo heard the clink of glass, and Howon’s hand re-emerged around the neck of a soju bottle.
“Wow,” Dongwoo said, for lack of anything to say. It was hard to smell anything over the cardboard. Howon cracked open the bottle, took an easy swallow, and handed it off to Dongwoo. “What are you doing?” he asked, maybe to stop himself.
“Getting ready for the evening rush hour,” Howon said morosely. He put the rest of Dongwoo’s bills into the middle drawer. By the time the other Santa-Elf duo trickled in from the first floor, Dongwoo was already drunk and almost falling off his bucket. One of them pointed at him.
“Is that the new guy?”
“No, I’m the old guy,” he insisted, trying not to slur his speech. The Santa from the first floor sat down and opened up a carton of playing cards from underneath the shipping pallet. Hoya licked his thumb and began to deal.
“Woohyun, meet Dongwoo,” Howon said. “Dongwoo, Woohyun.” Dongwoo nodded, and Woohyun grunted, eyes fixed on his card hand. “Get along.”
“So,” Woohyun said. “What are you in for, Dongwoo?”
Dongwoo blinked at him. “What?”
“Watch out, we got a live one here,” Woohyun muttered, and slapped down a card. Howon gave him a sharp look from underneath the furry brim of his cap.
“You sure you want to do that?” he asked. Dongwoo smiled.
“I’m actually an ice skater,” he said. “Just moved here, though. Need a job.” He yawned. “So I can pay to study and all that jazz.”
Woohyun sighed. “Yep,” he said. “Real live one.” With a grimace he threw down another card. Howon raised an eyebrow. “You should talk to Hoya then. He’d know all about it.”
“Shut up,” Howon said.
“You know, he wanted to be one too,” Woohyun said, low and fast so that Howon couldn’t stop him. “He used to be really into it, a couple years back.”
Dongwoo sat up. “Really?” He turned to Howon. And looking at him now like this, it was easy to sense-the broad shoulders, his smooth gait and the slick, self-assured smoothness of his indifferent expression.
“I told you, I’ve always been here,” Howon said. He licked his lip and put down another card. “Go fish,” he said. Woohyun tossed his head back, wincing, and pulled out his wallet.
“See?” he said. “He’s mean, too. Plays for keeps.” He took out three warped bills and handed them over. Howon rolled them up and tucked them into his pocket. The ping-pong flow of banter was soothing.
“Howon’s been nothing but nice,” Dongwoo said fondly, and leaned into him. Howon shrugged him off gently.
“Don’t call him that,” Woohyun said, and rubbed his nose. The pallet shifted and Howon nudged it back into place with his foot. Dongwoo watched his boots work up and down on the floor.
“He doesn’t mind,” Dongwoo said.
“No, I mind,” Howon said. Dongwoo closed his eyes and resisted the urge to write down that fact somewhere. Oops.
“That’s okay,” Dongwoo said. “What are you gonna do, Howon?”
Woohyun watched Hoya close his eyes and open them. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” Woohyun fanned his cards out. “Dongwoo-yah, you’ve been playing with fire. His dad owns Santa Service Limited. Signs all our paychecks and everything.”
“Go fish,” Hoya said. “And didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
Woohyun sighed. “See what I mean?” he asked with a put-upon expression. Dongwoo laughed. His mind was wonderfully blank, so naturally he said the first thing that popped into his head:
“So what is this, nepotism?”
The hum from the lightbulb was clearly audible. “Yeah,” Hoya said. “That’s exactly what it is.”
---
There were less children during the evening rush. Mostly it was uncomfortably quiet, with Dongwoo humming along to Christmas songs, eyes drooping, until he felt a wave of sickness leap up from his stomach. He struggled to his feet, and almost fell into Hoya’s lap.
“Oh man,” Dongwoo said, and put a hand over his mouth.
Careful,” Hoya said, and steered him discreetly towards a trash can. Dongwoo threw up, and managed to aim correctly, for the most part. “Yeah, that may have been a bit much,” Hoya said, but he stroked Dongwoo’s back, which made him feel better, even as he gagged.
“Am I on camera? I’m on camera, aren’t I? Damn,” Dongwoo moaned. This was not good.
“Yep.” Hoya checked his watch. “Don’t worry, I know a guy in security, he’ll splice it out later.”
“That’s great,” Dongwoo said, and retched again.
---
Dongwoo was a live one compared to the others, although the general impression was that he should be watched. It was odd, because he otherwise didn’t look like he would do this sort of thing. But his desire to skate was not incomprehensible: he moved with an easy, natural grace. Hoya wanted to put Dongwoo through his paces and see it for himself, and during his tour of the second floor he stopped by the skating rink.
“This,” he said, “is our rink. Opens in October and closes in February. They pause every two hours to reform the surface.” He could tell Dongwoo was eager. “Want to try it out?” He asked. Dongwoo looked shocked, and that was another nice feeling. Signals were good, and definite signals were even better. He led Dongwoo downstairs into the pit.
“Come on,” Dongwoo said. “You too!”
“No thanks,” Hoya said. “I prefer a less crowded rink.”
Dongwoo was not only a graceful skater but a skilled one as well, and that was pleasing. Hoya watched him lead the children around him like a swarm. He bounced another kid on his lap and winced as she knocked the back of her skates against his shin. He sighed and juggled his knee, and she squealed.
“If you like,” Hoya said afterwards. He was leading them down the Northern wing of the mall. “I can open the rink up for you after-hours.” Dongwoo froze, his mouth halfway caught in a smile.
“Oh, I know what you’re trying to do,” he said. “Stop trying to impress me, it’s not working.” Hoya didn’t pause, and Dongwoo had to trot to catch up.
“This is my job,” he said.
“Ah, right,” Dongwoo said. He would have backpedaled, only he didn’t know how. “How long have you been skating?”
Hoya’s pace quickened slightly. “Long enough.” He gestured at the signs. “The northern wing has the playground and the Gymboree,” he said, “so the kids like to come here a lot. You’ll be spending a fair amount of time in this section.”
---
“One thousand won, kid in the white is named Sungjong,” Dongwoo said. He and Hoya had settled into a game of people-watching; the stakes were high, and the results expensive.
“Looks more like a Sunggyu to me,” Hoya said. “Gunning for a last name?”
“You take Kim, I’ll take Lee, five hundred.”
“Done.”
The child in question had to be pushed up to the front by his mother, and when the photographer took aim, his expression turned into an ugly contortion. Hoya jiggled his knee threateningly. “Behave.”
“I’m pretending to be an owl,” he whined. “Hey mister, don’t I see you here every year?”
Dongwoo kneeled. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m not giving you my name, what if you kidnap me?” the kid whispered, but to no avail. Picture taken, his mother said, “Come here, Sungyeol.” Santa and his elf gave each other sour looks.
“Seriously? What kind of a name is Sungyeol?”
-
“He’s right, though,” Dongwoo said while digging into his cookie cake. “Every year? You must recognize him too, right?”
“I do,” Hoya said, and wiped his hands on a napkin. “But most of the time, they don’t even know who Saint Nicholas is, so why bother?”
Dongwoo drummed his fork against his plate. “He’s cute,” he decided.
“Don’t get attached,” Hoya said, and something in his tone made his mouth go dry, and that was the cue for Dongwoo to begin talking about his other favorite topic.
“So,” he said. “Tell me more about the time you slipped and fell into a triple axel at regionals.” Hoya waited for the smile to drop off his face before responding.
“How did you know that? You’ve been talking to Woohyun, haven’t you?” Dongwoo held up his hands in an appeasing gesture.
“He’s been the one talking to me, man-”
“Right,” Hoya said. He smirked, and Dongwoo laughed cautiously. “Okay. It was the coldest day of the year that winter in Seoul, and I hadn’t slept the night before, but…”
---
It wasn’t often Hoya talked about his own skating. He did not deter Dongwoo’s interest, but he had a certain way of flipping any curiosity about his past into another question about Dongwoo. The level of expertise he spoke from was never questioned, and in time Dongwoo came to believe in Hoya’s infallibility.
The ice was hard and crisp, judging by the sound of Dongwoo’s skates. His form was good, and the line of his body was enjoyable, but the lack of finesse marked him as an amateur. Dongwoo turned around, drawing lazy eights with his tracks. “Come on, Hoya,” he yelled. “The water’s warm, jump in!”
“Lift up your chin and widen your stance,” Hoya said. “And watch out for the wall.”
“Come at me, wall!” Dongwoo yelled, and spread out his arms. He wheeled around again and Hoya checked his watch.
“Are you being serious right now?” he asked. “You keep saying you want to go pro, but you’re just horseplaying.” Dongwoo looked back.
“You’re no fun!” he yelled, and then slid to a stop. “Actually, you know what would be really fun? You and me, get back into the circuit after this is over,” he said. “We could do spring training together!”
“I said widen your stance,” Hoya said. Dongwoo sank down into a squat and whizzed past him.
“Check!” he yelled. “You and me, yeah? We’ll switch to an indoor one once they take this one down-”
“And do what? Play around some more?” Hoya asked.
“Can you teach me how to do a triple axel?”
“Are you listening to me?”
Dongwoo turned around. “No.” He slowed and began moving back towards the center of the rink, where he sank down into a spin.
-
“Why don’t you think I can make it?” he asked afterwards, skates on his shoulder and heart on his sleeve. “What am I missing?”
Hoya gave him a sideways look, keys jangling in his pocket. He swept his hand down the wall, turning out the lights. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because Woohyun told me-”
“Why are you asking me?”
Dongwoo looked down. “Because I respect your opinion,” he said. Hoya looked down also. Their shoes echoed against the glossy floor and walls.
“A lot of people say they do things because they enjoy it. That doesn’t mean they’re any good, or that they have any talent for it,” Hoya said softly. “You know. Hobbyists. That doesn’t mean you have to do it for a living.”
Dongwoo was hurt by Hoya’s thoughtfulness, but neither did he have an answer. “Then what am I missing?” he asked.
It was a long time before Hoya spoke.
“What do you think is going to happen to you? You don’t even have enough to pay for a teacher. You’re a fucking helper elf in a fucking shopping mall. You’ve been screamed at, cried on, burped at, and bitten by the youth of the nation. It’s not about what you lack, Dongwoo. It’s what you have at all that’s worth sacrificing so much for.”
Dongwoo stopped. The hall was silent now that neither of them were moving. “I’ve been doing this my whole life. I’ve spent years-it’s not as if everything was a bunch of roses-I’m not going to quit just because you think I can’t make it!”
Hoya nodded as if Dongwoo’s story was exactly as he expected. “I’m not going to open up the skating rink for you anymore,” he said. “Go find another place to waste your time.”
---
“You’re doing it wrong.” He could tell by the snap of the ice, but the angle of his ankle and his posture were more definite indicators. Once upon a time, he had made that very same mistake. Dongwoo didn’t stop. “Keep your knees bent.”
“Aren’t you going to kick me out?”
“Depends. Are you going to make me?”
Dongwoo slowed to a stop. “Teach me how to do it right then.” Hoya was a small lump at the other end of the rink, and his voice was no louder than a whisper, to Dongwoo’s ears.
“Are you interested in me, or are you interested in skating?”
Dongwoo didn’t answer, wobbling on his skates. He watched Hoya walk to the bench and bend down over his shoes. By the time Hoya walked onto the ice, Dongwoo had started pacing again. Hoya’s entrance was far from regal, but he skated with an old grace and a keen sense of balance. He skated twice around and stopped in front of Dongwoo.
“You do it,” he said. “Like this.” And then he sank into a perfect sit spin. Dongwoo watched him blur and clapped his hands. Hoya rose up from his spin. “Your turn.”
Dongwoo skated away from him, gathering up momentum, and skated into his spin. He hadn’t quite gotten so good at spotting, but he could see Hoya’s face, stormy. “You knew how to do it already,” he stated when Dongwoo finished. Dongwoo smiled at him angelically and held out his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “Skate with me.”
Hoya’s lip curled. “Liar,” he said, and skated towards the entrance.
“Why do you keep running?” Dongwoo shouted. Hoya slowed.
“Running,” he repeated, and turned around.
“From me, from this-” he spread out his arms. “Us.”
Hoya began to skate towards Dongwoo. “Am I running?” he asked.
“Uh,” Dongwoo said, and slid backwards. Hoya continued, building up speed.
“Am I running?” he repeated.
“Not right now,” Dongwoo mumbled and skated away from him. Hoya was accelerating frighteningly fast.
“Does it look like I’m scared? Have you ever seen me scared?” Dongwoo gulped. I’m scared, he thought. Hoya had cornered him into the endzone, and he was damned if he would be chased for another lap.
“Stop chasing me!” he yelled, and turned around abruptly. Hoya slammed into him, and they hit the barricade.
W H A A A M ! ! !
Luckily, there was a plastic shell behind the barricade, so they didn’t flip over the railing and crack their heads open on the bleachers. They were both fine, but there was blood dripping from Hoya’s nose onto the ice now, and when he skated back to the entrance his tracks were pink.
-
After that they stopped talking. Not the fake kind of talking:
“Let me get that,” Hoya said, when a baby dropped her bottle onto the floor.
“No, I got-” Dongwoo said, and reached for it. They touched it at the same time.
“I’ll pick it up,” Hoya insisted, and Dongwoo withdrew his hand.
The baby began to sob and all attention was diverted away from the duo as the photographer picked up a toy and began to wave it in the baby’s face.
I mean the real kind of talking. The wandering conversations and the betting pools on children’s names, talk of skating, or anything at all. Dongwoo knew he had been unfair, but how was he supposed to fix it? Hoya’s silence was nearly absolute; most days he acted as if Dongwoo didn’t exist.
The ice between them existed all the way until December 24th, when they saw Lee Sungyeol once more. He was a nuisance in line, but they would forgive him later, because when it was his turn to hop onto Hoya’s lap, he made a point of turning around, and saying “you guys have no Christmas spirit today. Guess you finally got bored, huh?”
Hoya cleared his throat. “Smile!” Dongwoo said.
When he was gone, Hoya looked at Dongwoo, as if for the first time. “That bad, huh?” he said. And just like that, the ice had broken between them. Dongwoo waited until their break to apologize. He followed Hoya to the elevator, and although Hoya kept turning around and watching Dongwoo follow him, he made no move to push him away.
Dongwoo stepped forward, still breathing. “I’m sorry,” he said. I know I was being nosy and pushy.” He waited. Hoya blinked at him. The elevators opened, and a businessman exited. Dongwoo waited for him to pass before continuing. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” Hoya watched him. Dongwoo cleared his throat and continued.
“You get to know something about me too, okay? I’m gonna make it even.” He wavered, but Hoya didn’t retreat, staring down his nose at him, and Dongwoo stared back at him, too afraid to do it. Hoya cursed.
“Am I going to have to do this too?” He asked, and he stepped forward. Hoya’s lips were cold, and his jaw was stiff, but Dongwoo leaned in, and smiled anyway.
Sungyeol ran down the hallway. He needed to pee, really bad, right then, and he knew the toilet was next to the elevator. When he turned the corner he nearly pissed his pants. He looked back at his mom, several yards behind him.
“Mommy!” he yelled, and pointed for good measure. “I saw somebody kissing Santa Claus!”
Pairing/Focus: Hoya/Dongwoo
Rating: PG
Word count: 3,600
Summary: These Santas know how to skate!
To: neko_valentine
From: Your Secret Santa
“So…” Dongwoo said, and looked over at the Santa he’d been partnered with. He looked more like a king reclining on his throne than a jolly santa, but the children seemed to enjoy his posturing. “How long did you say you’ve been here?” The Santa tilted his head to look at him coolly. What had been his name? Ah-Howon, right? Howon sighed and crossed his legs again.
“I’ve always been here.”
“No, I mean like-when did you get here, like what time…”
“I’ve always been here,” Howon repeated, and another child crawled into his lap. “Yo ho,” he said automatically. The child turned around.
“What kind of Santa are you?” he asked. “Yo Ho? Isn’t that what pirates say?”
“Eyes front. Merry Christmas,” Howon said, and slapped the child on his buttocks as he slipped off his lap and toddled away. Dongwoo smiled and waved, and the bells on his sleeve jingled when he raised his hand.
---
It wasn’t until the end of rush hour when Howon finally turned to look at him, hat askew and the front of his pants rumpled. He stood up to stretch.
“You the new guy?” he asked.
Dongwoo laughed. Something about the expression on his face-bored and arrogant-coupled with his lazy questioning made him want to take a chance.
“No, I’m the old guy,” he said playfully.
“Right,” Howon said, but he looked startled, and that pleased Dongwoo. Howon checked his watch and stood up. “Follow me.”
He led Dongwoo past a Uniqlo to a row of lockers tucked away near the stairs. He took a key out of his pocket and gave it to Dongwoo. It was uncomfortably warm and for a second, Dongwoo could only think about all those children sitting on his lap and the key sandwiched between their butts and Howon’s thighs, but he put it in his pocket anyway. Howon crouched down and tapped the bottom center locker-number 139. “This holds a set of spare clothes,” he said. “Bathroom is right across the hall. Anybody poops or pees or bleeds on you, you change the clothes and toss the old ones.”
“Okay,” Dongwoo said. That didn’t sound too hard. “What next?”
“We go back and sit for another four hours,” Howon said. Dongwoo sighed and began to stretch, anticipating the cramps to come. “I’ll give you a tour later this week,” Howon continued, giving him a sideways look. He checked his watch and began to walk back to their setup near the Christmas tree.
“Huh,” Dongwoo said, and followed him slowly. Had he just-no way.
By the end of their shift, Dongwoo was sitting on the faux snow carpet and ringing Howon’s bell with a slightly crazed grin on his face. A crushed box lay discreetly behind the throne from when he had tried to sit on it.
---
Afterwards, Howon led him down to the ground floor and into a service corridor. They stopped in front of a door with a taped sign that read UNION. “Twenty thousand won,” he said. Dongwoo stepped back.
“I thought the uniform was included,” he said.
Howon shoved his hands in his pockets again. “It’s the membership fee. You work here, you join the Santa Workers’ union.” Dongwoo laughed.
“It’s only temp work,” he said, but he pulled out his wallet anyway. “Is it tax-deductible?” he joked. Howon took his bills and opened the door. The room was dark inside. Howon slid his hand along the wall and pressed a light switch that turned on a lightbulb screwed into the wall. The ceiling was pipework, and a dusty filing cabinet took up one-eighth of the room. Three up-side-down janitor buckets were arranged around a shipping pallet covered with an unfolded cardboard box.
Howon picked his way over to the filing cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. Dongwoo winced at the rusty screech of metal. Howon fished around and then pulled out a card. “Your membership card,” he said, and handed it to Dongwoo. He then reached down and pulled open the bottom drawer. Dongwoo heard the clink of glass, and Howon’s hand re-emerged around the neck of a soju bottle.
“Wow,” Dongwoo said, for lack of anything to say. It was hard to smell anything over the cardboard. Howon cracked open the bottle, took an easy swallow, and handed it off to Dongwoo. “What are you doing?” he asked, maybe to stop himself.
“Getting ready for the evening rush hour,” Howon said morosely. He put the rest of Dongwoo’s bills into the middle drawer. By the time the other Santa-Elf duo trickled in from the first floor, Dongwoo was already drunk and almost falling off his bucket. One of them pointed at him.
“Is that the new guy?”
“No, I’m the old guy,” he insisted, trying not to slur his speech. The Santa from the first floor sat down and opened up a carton of playing cards from underneath the shipping pallet. Hoya licked his thumb and began to deal.
“Woohyun, meet Dongwoo,” Howon said. “Dongwoo, Woohyun.” Dongwoo nodded, and Woohyun grunted, eyes fixed on his card hand. “Get along.”
“So,” Woohyun said. “What are you in for, Dongwoo?”
Dongwoo blinked at him. “What?”
“Watch out, we got a live one here,” Woohyun muttered, and slapped down a card. Howon gave him a sharp look from underneath the furry brim of his cap.
“You sure you want to do that?” he asked. Dongwoo smiled.
“I’m actually an ice skater,” he said. “Just moved here, though. Need a job.” He yawned. “So I can pay to study and all that jazz.”
Woohyun sighed. “Yep,” he said. “Real live one.” With a grimace he threw down another card. Howon raised an eyebrow. “You should talk to Hoya then. He’d know all about it.”
“Shut up,” Howon said.
“You know, he wanted to be one too,” Woohyun said, low and fast so that Howon couldn’t stop him. “He used to be really into it, a couple years back.”
Dongwoo sat up. “Really?” He turned to Howon. And looking at him now like this, it was easy to sense-the broad shoulders, his smooth gait and the slick, self-assured smoothness of his indifferent expression.
“I told you, I’ve always been here,” Howon said. He licked his lip and put down another card. “Go fish,” he said. Woohyun tossed his head back, wincing, and pulled out his wallet.
“See?” he said. “He’s mean, too. Plays for keeps.” He took out three warped bills and handed them over. Howon rolled them up and tucked them into his pocket. The ping-pong flow of banter was soothing.
“Howon’s been nothing but nice,” Dongwoo said fondly, and leaned into him. Howon shrugged him off gently.
“Don’t call him that,” Woohyun said, and rubbed his nose. The pallet shifted and Howon nudged it back into place with his foot. Dongwoo watched his boots work up and down on the floor.
“He doesn’t mind,” Dongwoo said.
“No, I mind,” Howon said. Dongwoo closed his eyes and resisted the urge to write down that fact somewhere. Oops.
“That’s okay,” Dongwoo said. “What are you gonna do, Howon?”
Woohyun watched Hoya close his eyes and open them. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” Woohyun fanned his cards out. “Dongwoo-yah, you’ve been playing with fire. His dad owns Santa Service Limited. Signs all our paychecks and everything.”
“Go fish,” Hoya said. “And didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
Woohyun sighed. “See what I mean?” he asked with a put-upon expression. Dongwoo laughed. His mind was wonderfully blank, so naturally he said the first thing that popped into his head:
“So what is this, nepotism?”
The hum from the lightbulb was clearly audible. “Yeah,” Hoya said. “That’s exactly what it is.”
---
There were less children during the evening rush. Mostly it was uncomfortably quiet, with Dongwoo humming along to Christmas songs, eyes drooping, until he felt a wave of sickness leap up from his stomach. He struggled to his feet, and almost fell into Hoya’s lap.
“Oh man,” Dongwoo said, and put a hand over his mouth.
Careful,” Hoya said, and steered him discreetly towards a trash can. Dongwoo threw up, and managed to aim correctly, for the most part. “Yeah, that may have been a bit much,” Hoya said, but he stroked Dongwoo’s back, which made him feel better, even as he gagged.
“Am I on camera? I’m on camera, aren’t I? Damn,” Dongwoo moaned. This was not good.
“Yep.” Hoya checked his watch. “Don’t worry, I know a guy in security, he’ll splice it out later.”
“That’s great,” Dongwoo said, and retched again.
---
Dongwoo was a live one compared to the others, although the general impression was that he should be watched. It was odd, because he otherwise didn’t look like he would do this sort of thing. But his desire to skate was not incomprehensible: he moved with an easy, natural grace. Hoya wanted to put Dongwoo through his paces and see it for himself, and during his tour of the second floor he stopped by the skating rink.
“This,” he said, “is our rink. Opens in October and closes in February. They pause every two hours to reform the surface.” He could tell Dongwoo was eager. “Want to try it out?” He asked. Dongwoo looked shocked, and that was another nice feeling. Signals were good, and definite signals were even better. He led Dongwoo downstairs into the pit.
“Come on,” Dongwoo said. “You too!”
“No thanks,” Hoya said. “I prefer a less crowded rink.”
Dongwoo was not only a graceful skater but a skilled one as well, and that was pleasing. Hoya watched him lead the children around him like a swarm. He bounced another kid on his lap and winced as she knocked the back of her skates against his shin. He sighed and juggled his knee, and she squealed.
“If you like,” Hoya said afterwards. He was leading them down the Northern wing of the mall. “I can open the rink up for you after-hours.” Dongwoo froze, his mouth halfway caught in a smile.
“Oh, I know what you’re trying to do,” he said. “Stop trying to impress me, it’s not working.” Hoya didn’t pause, and Dongwoo had to trot to catch up.
“This is my job,” he said.
“Ah, right,” Dongwoo said. He would have backpedaled, only he didn’t know how. “How long have you been skating?”
Hoya’s pace quickened slightly. “Long enough.” He gestured at the signs. “The northern wing has the playground and the Gymboree,” he said, “so the kids like to come here a lot. You’ll be spending a fair amount of time in this section.”
---
“One thousand won, kid in the white is named Sungjong,” Dongwoo said. He and Hoya had settled into a game of people-watching; the stakes were high, and the results expensive.
“Looks more like a Sunggyu to me,” Hoya said. “Gunning for a last name?”
“You take Kim, I’ll take Lee, five hundred.”
“Done.”
The child in question had to be pushed up to the front by his mother, and when the photographer took aim, his expression turned into an ugly contortion. Hoya jiggled his knee threateningly. “Behave.”
“I’m pretending to be an owl,” he whined. “Hey mister, don’t I see you here every year?”
Dongwoo kneeled. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m not giving you my name, what if you kidnap me?” the kid whispered, but to no avail. Picture taken, his mother said, “Come here, Sungyeol.” Santa and his elf gave each other sour looks.
“Seriously? What kind of a name is Sungyeol?”
-
“He’s right, though,” Dongwoo said while digging into his cookie cake. “Every year? You must recognize him too, right?”
“I do,” Hoya said, and wiped his hands on a napkin. “But most of the time, they don’t even know who Saint Nicholas is, so why bother?”
Dongwoo drummed his fork against his plate. “He’s cute,” he decided.
“Don’t get attached,” Hoya said, and something in his tone made his mouth go dry, and that was the cue for Dongwoo to begin talking about his other favorite topic.
“So,” he said. “Tell me more about the time you slipped and fell into a triple axel at regionals.” Hoya waited for the smile to drop off his face before responding.
“How did you know that? You’ve been talking to Woohyun, haven’t you?” Dongwoo held up his hands in an appeasing gesture.
“He’s been the one talking to me, man-”
“Right,” Hoya said. He smirked, and Dongwoo laughed cautiously. “Okay. It was the coldest day of the year that winter in Seoul, and I hadn’t slept the night before, but…”
---
It wasn’t often Hoya talked about his own skating. He did not deter Dongwoo’s interest, but he had a certain way of flipping any curiosity about his past into another question about Dongwoo. The level of expertise he spoke from was never questioned, and in time Dongwoo came to believe in Hoya’s infallibility.
The ice was hard and crisp, judging by the sound of Dongwoo’s skates. His form was good, and the line of his body was enjoyable, but the lack of finesse marked him as an amateur. Dongwoo turned around, drawing lazy eights with his tracks. “Come on, Hoya,” he yelled. “The water’s warm, jump in!”
“Lift up your chin and widen your stance,” Hoya said. “And watch out for the wall.”
“Come at me, wall!” Dongwoo yelled, and spread out his arms. He wheeled around again and Hoya checked his watch.
“Are you being serious right now?” he asked. “You keep saying you want to go pro, but you’re just horseplaying.” Dongwoo looked back.
“You’re no fun!” he yelled, and then slid to a stop. “Actually, you know what would be really fun? You and me, get back into the circuit after this is over,” he said. “We could do spring training together!”
“I said widen your stance,” Hoya said. Dongwoo sank down into a squat and whizzed past him.
“Check!” he yelled. “You and me, yeah? We’ll switch to an indoor one once they take this one down-”
“And do what? Play around some more?” Hoya asked.
“Can you teach me how to do a triple axel?”
“Are you listening to me?”
Dongwoo turned around. “No.” He slowed and began moving back towards the center of the rink, where he sank down into a spin.
-
“Why don’t you think I can make it?” he asked afterwards, skates on his shoulder and heart on his sleeve. “What am I missing?”
Hoya gave him a sideways look, keys jangling in his pocket. He swept his hand down the wall, turning out the lights. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because Woohyun told me-”
“Why are you asking me?”
Dongwoo looked down. “Because I respect your opinion,” he said. Hoya looked down also. Their shoes echoed against the glossy floor and walls.
“A lot of people say they do things because they enjoy it. That doesn’t mean they’re any good, or that they have any talent for it,” Hoya said softly. “You know. Hobbyists. That doesn’t mean you have to do it for a living.”
Dongwoo was hurt by Hoya’s thoughtfulness, but neither did he have an answer. “Then what am I missing?” he asked.
It was a long time before Hoya spoke.
“What do you think is going to happen to you? You don’t even have enough to pay for a teacher. You’re a fucking helper elf in a fucking shopping mall. You’ve been screamed at, cried on, burped at, and bitten by the youth of the nation. It’s not about what you lack, Dongwoo. It’s what you have at all that’s worth sacrificing so much for.”
Dongwoo stopped. The hall was silent now that neither of them were moving. “I’ve been doing this my whole life. I’ve spent years-it’s not as if everything was a bunch of roses-I’m not going to quit just because you think I can’t make it!”
Hoya nodded as if Dongwoo’s story was exactly as he expected. “I’m not going to open up the skating rink for you anymore,” he said. “Go find another place to waste your time.”
---
“You’re doing it wrong.” He could tell by the snap of the ice, but the angle of his ankle and his posture were more definite indicators. Once upon a time, he had made that very same mistake. Dongwoo didn’t stop. “Keep your knees bent.”
“Aren’t you going to kick me out?”
“Depends. Are you going to make me?”
Dongwoo slowed to a stop. “Teach me how to do it right then.” Hoya was a small lump at the other end of the rink, and his voice was no louder than a whisper, to Dongwoo’s ears.
“Are you interested in me, or are you interested in skating?”
Dongwoo didn’t answer, wobbling on his skates. He watched Hoya walk to the bench and bend down over his shoes. By the time Hoya walked onto the ice, Dongwoo had started pacing again. Hoya’s entrance was far from regal, but he skated with an old grace and a keen sense of balance. He skated twice around and stopped in front of Dongwoo.
“You do it,” he said. “Like this.” And then he sank into a perfect sit spin. Dongwoo watched him blur and clapped his hands. Hoya rose up from his spin. “Your turn.”
Dongwoo skated away from him, gathering up momentum, and skated into his spin. He hadn’t quite gotten so good at spotting, but he could see Hoya’s face, stormy. “You knew how to do it already,” he stated when Dongwoo finished. Dongwoo smiled at him angelically and held out his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “Skate with me.”
Hoya’s lip curled. “Liar,” he said, and skated towards the entrance.
“Why do you keep running?” Dongwoo shouted. Hoya slowed.
“Running,” he repeated, and turned around.
“From me, from this-” he spread out his arms. “Us.”
Hoya began to skate towards Dongwoo. “Am I running?” he asked.
“Uh,” Dongwoo said, and slid backwards. Hoya continued, building up speed.
“Am I running?” he repeated.
“Not right now,” Dongwoo mumbled and skated away from him. Hoya was accelerating frighteningly fast.
“Does it look like I’m scared? Have you ever seen me scared?” Dongwoo gulped. I’m scared, he thought. Hoya had cornered him into the endzone, and he was damned if he would be chased for another lap.
“Stop chasing me!” he yelled, and turned around abruptly. Hoya slammed into him, and they hit the barricade.
W H A A A M ! ! !
Luckily, there was a plastic shell behind the barricade, so they didn’t flip over the railing and crack their heads open on the bleachers. They were both fine, but there was blood dripping from Hoya’s nose onto the ice now, and when he skated back to the entrance his tracks were pink.
-
After that they stopped talking. Not the fake kind of talking:
“Let me get that,” Hoya said, when a baby dropped her bottle onto the floor.
“No, I got-” Dongwoo said, and reached for it. They touched it at the same time.
“I’ll pick it up,” Hoya insisted, and Dongwoo withdrew his hand.
The baby began to sob and all attention was diverted away from the duo as the photographer picked up a toy and began to wave it in the baby’s face.
I mean the real kind of talking. The wandering conversations and the betting pools on children’s names, talk of skating, or anything at all. Dongwoo knew he had been unfair, but how was he supposed to fix it? Hoya’s silence was nearly absolute; most days he acted as if Dongwoo didn’t exist.
The ice between them existed all the way until December 24th, when they saw Lee Sungyeol once more. He was a nuisance in line, but they would forgive him later, because when it was his turn to hop onto Hoya’s lap, he made a point of turning around, and saying “you guys have no Christmas spirit today. Guess you finally got bored, huh?”
Hoya cleared his throat. “Smile!” Dongwoo said.
When he was gone, Hoya looked at Dongwoo, as if for the first time. “That bad, huh?” he said. And just like that, the ice had broken between them. Dongwoo waited until their break to apologize. He followed Hoya to the elevator, and although Hoya kept turning around and watching Dongwoo follow him, he made no move to push him away.
Dongwoo stepped forward, still breathing. “I’m sorry,” he said. I know I was being nosy and pushy.” He waited. Hoya blinked at him. The elevators opened, and a businessman exited. Dongwoo waited for him to pass before continuing. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” Hoya watched him. Dongwoo cleared his throat and continued.
“You get to know something about me too, okay? I’m gonna make it even.” He wavered, but Hoya didn’t retreat, staring down his nose at him, and Dongwoo stared back at him, too afraid to do it. Hoya cursed.
“Am I going to have to do this too?” He asked, and he stepped forward. Hoya’s lips were cold, and his jaw was stiff, but Dongwoo leaned in, and smiled anyway.
Sungyeol ran down the hallway. He needed to pee, really bad, right then, and he knew the toilet was next to the elevator. When he turned the corner he nearly pissed his pants. He looked back at his mom, several yards behind him.
“Mommy!” he yelled, and pointed for good measure. “I saw somebody kissing Santa Claus!”