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The snow turns to slush as it hits the pavement. Kun’s boots sink into the gross snow with a squelch and his face turns into a grimace. He pulls his coat closer around him and crosses the empty street. Under the street lamps, the city is an ugly yellow color, illuminating the closed shops and barren streets.
It’s just him tonight.
Christmas eve tends to do that. People bundle up in their homes and spend the holidays with their families. No one is around in the middle of the night like this.
Kun quickens his pace.
He reaches his destination faster than he expected. Fumbles his way up the steps of the apartment complex and presses the buzzer by the door.
“Hello?” the voice crackles through the speaker. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” he replies. The door clicks open.
He takes the stairs, three at a time. The fourth floor comes fastest that way and he catches his breath on the landing. The apartment he’s looking for is unlocked when he gets there, expecting. Waiting.
He takes off his wet boots by the door, hangs his soggy jacket and scarf on the coat rack before finally making his way into the warm apartment.
Noise comes from the kitchen, clueing him into the location of its occupant. He shuffles through the hall into the open space to meet him.
“You know, you shouldn’t just open the door for anyone,” he says, sliding up behind the kitchen’s inhabitant. He wraps his arms around him and presses a familiar kiss into his neck. “It could be a monster, trying to get you.”
The man laughs, and doesn’t attempt to shove him off, lets him huddle around him next to the stove. He stirs the stew. The air is full of the smell of fresh ground spices and the familiar scent of homemade broth. There is leftover meat on the counter, cubed and perfect for warm winter stews.
“Hello to you too, Kunnie,” he says. “Is that really how you’re going to greet me on Christmas?”
“Merry Christmas Yuta,” he says, face still buried in his neck. He bites lightly into the fleshy skin.
“Stop that,” Yuta laughs. “Maybe I did let in a monster.”
“I’m the only monster you’ll ever need baby,” he says.
“Don’t be greasy,” Yuta nudges him to move back. Kun obliges, releases his grip, and steps out of the way. “Dinner is almost ready, go put on something cozier, you look so uptight in khakis.”
“You think the khakis are sexy,” he laughs. He walks away before Yuta gets the chance to scold him, making his way to the bedroom down the hall.
It’s dark inside, unlike the rest of the apartment. Where the living area was full of warm string lights and Christmas glow, the bedroom was dim and unlit. He was familiar enough with the layout that he didn’t need the lights on, but he flipped the switch anyway. He pulled a pair of sweatpants out of the drawer and grabs one of the sweaters dropped on the floor. He thinks it was his at one point but it doesn’t really matter. As he’s changing, he notices the closet door is cracked.
‘Odd,’ he thinks as he pulls the crew neck over his head. ‘We don’t keep any clothes in there.’
He walks over to it and peaks inside. Fresh bones stare back at him from the depths of the closet. He hums and shuts the door tight. Yuta calls him from the kitchen.
‘That’s right,’ he thinks to himself. ‘The skeletons go in the closet.’
It’s just him tonight.
Christmas eve tends to do that. People bundle up in their homes and spend the holidays with their families. No one is around in the middle of the night like this.
Kun quickens his pace.
He reaches his destination faster than he expected. Fumbles his way up the steps of the apartment complex and presses the buzzer by the door.
“Hello?” the voice crackles through the speaker. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” he replies. The door clicks open.
He takes the stairs, three at a time. The fourth floor comes fastest that way and he catches his breath on the landing. The apartment he’s looking for is unlocked when he gets there, expecting. Waiting.
He takes off his wet boots by the door, hangs his soggy jacket and scarf on the coat rack before finally making his way into the warm apartment.
Noise comes from the kitchen, clueing him into the location of its occupant. He shuffles through the hall into the open space to meet him.
“You know, you shouldn’t just open the door for anyone,” he says, sliding up behind the kitchen’s inhabitant. He wraps his arms around him and presses a familiar kiss into his neck. “It could be a monster, trying to get you.”
The man laughs, and doesn’t attempt to shove him off, lets him huddle around him next to the stove. He stirs the stew. The air is full of the smell of fresh ground spices and the familiar scent of homemade broth. There is leftover meat on the counter, cubed and perfect for warm winter stews.
“Hello to you too, Kunnie,” he says. “Is that really how you’re going to greet me on Christmas?”
“Merry Christmas Yuta,” he says, face still buried in his neck. He bites lightly into the fleshy skin.
“Stop that,” Yuta laughs. “Maybe I did let in a monster.”
“I’m the only monster you’ll ever need baby,” he says.
“Don’t be greasy,” Yuta nudges him to move back. Kun obliges, releases his grip, and steps out of the way. “Dinner is almost ready, go put on something cozier, you look so uptight in khakis.”
“You think the khakis are sexy,” he laughs. He walks away before Yuta gets the chance to scold him, making his way to the bedroom down the hall.
It’s dark inside, unlike the rest of the apartment. Where the living area was full of warm string lights and Christmas glow, the bedroom was dim and unlit. He was familiar enough with the layout that he didn’t need the lights on, but he flipped the switch anyway. He pulled a pair of sweatpants out of the drawer and grabs one of the sweaters dropped on the floor. He thinks it was his at one point but it doesn’t really matter. As he’s changing, he notices the closet door is cracked.
‘Odd,’ he thinks as he pulls the crew neck over his head. ‘We don’t keep any clothes in there.’
He walks over to it and peaks inside. Fresh bones stare back at him from the depths of the closet. He hums and shuts the door tight. Yuta calls him from the kitchen.
‘That’s right,’ he thinks to himself. ‘The skeletons go in the closet.’
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