When Kaizo resigned to accept the party invitation, it wasn't easily. Fang practically had to kick him out to go, and even then, after talking him up about how he needed a break and some positivity before everyone parted ways for their own vacations.

He was not counting on him being there.

But there he is, just as Kaizo remembers him, though the expression on his face is one of hesitance and almost disgust. Disappointment?

No one else takes note of the suddenly chilly atmosphere in the room. They all sport jolly grins and laugh heartily as they come to greet the newcomers, but Kaizo's insides have turned to ice.

Not you, not .

It was supposed to be a chance to go outside for a change, have some social interaction before settling in for the holidays, probably wallowing in his own case. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

Kaizo averts his gaze and Ramen doesn't acknowledge his presence, simply walking past once his jacket has been shaken out and hung, as if Kaizo weren't even there.

For a moment he's frozen still.

He doesn't know what he expected. If anything he should be grateful the other isn't initiating some kind of communication for Kaizo to reciprocate. All the same, the difference is jarring.

He used to look at Kaizo like he was the only one in the room. Now it's like he's invisible.

Kaizo swallows the lump in his throat and goes to the kitchen counter to pour himself a cup of hot chocolate. His hands are shaking as he raises it to his lips and takes a sip too quickly. The hot liquid scalds his tongue and leaves his throat raw but it grounds him for a moment. He bites his burnt tongue and makes his way to the sofa, deliberately avoiding looking at the opposite side.

The swirling cocoa is rather mesmerizing, though it keeps his eyes busy as his ears attune to the conversation across him.

"The weather outside is brutal," one of them audibly shakes their head.

"Eh, I'd say it's pretty typical for this time of year."

"Made it hell to get here, though. All that snow- my wipers were still unfreezing when I got out of the driveway and the whole windshield was white by the time I got onto the freeway."

"You still got here, though," another notes.

"Well, yeah, duh, you think I'd miss a once-in-a-year chance to drink some of that legendary hot chocolate? Nah, man."

Just the usual throwaway conversation. Kaizo stares deeper into the foamy expanses of his cooling drink, gripping the cup tighter. It warms his hands but they're clammy with anxiety, and another sip of the hot chocolate does little to heat his cold insides, tight with dread.

"Soo, Ramen," one of them starts, and Kaizo resists a wave of nausea as his hearing sharpens automatically at the mention of the blond. "How's it been going lately. Haven't heard much from you, dude."

Kaizo wills himself to zone out and disappear but it doesn't work as the other's voice travels across the room, just as he remembers it.

"Eh, it's been going I guess," Ramen says vaguely.

Kaizo's chest swells and there's a rush of dizziness before he shakes his head just barely to clear it. His heart is beating so fast and he isn't sure why the cryptic response is eliciting such a visceral reaction.

For all he knows, Ramen just had a really shitty week at work. Or some family drama. Or maybe he got into some trouble with his landlord. All valid and realistic possibilities...

But Kaizo knows, deep down, what he's envisioning. Dare he say, hoping? That maybe, just maybe, it's a hint that Ramen isn't taking this well either.

The thought fills him with a wave of relief and that makes him sick for feeling almost, fleetingly, euphoric.

But the high dissipates quickly when the blond goes silent.

The quietness in the room feels hesitant, though casual, but it eats Kaizo up with a crippling anxiety and he prays for someone to break it.

To his mercy, Tarung begins to recount a fantastic tale- some memorable experience he had at the supermarket, or was it the gas station? - but Kaizo finds his thoughts wandering. His gaze slips back to a pair of fluffy socks, a garish pattern of red and green, one on the floor, the other at the end of a crossed leg. His eyes briefly flick up to the other's sweater, just barely taking in an equally offensive color combination, but he quickly looks elsewhere, focussing intently on the carpet threads beneath them.

He doesn't dare look at his face because he knows that the moment he sees it again, he's done for. He's wading in the shallow water but then he'll be in deep, and at that point there's no going back.

The faded and fraying maroon is much safer to stare at. He repeats the design over in his head, slowly memorizing it, but he must have involuntarily tuned in to the conversation at some point, because the next moment he's aware, a second too late, of a question posed and a curt answer given in return.

It's just one word, but Kaizo aches to hear his voice again. He closes his eyes and wills himself, deliberately, not to look up.

Ramen is glancing back at the snacks. Kaizo's heart sinks, though he doesn't know what he was expecting, and drops his eyes to the carpet again. He's already memorized the assortment of refreshments. There's gingerbread cookies, candy canes, mugs of hot chocolate and spiced coffee, the typical seasonal scene.

Kaizo wonders if he could choke on a cookie and have to be taken to the hospital to get out of here.

In his peripheral vision, the blond turns his head to pay attention to something one of his friends is saying.

Kaizo makes the mistake of looking up, and immediately regrets it, though Ramen doesn't seem to notice. He sits there, blissfully oblivious to the fact that his fluffy undercut is only a memory of rosy mornings, his eyes of sparkling mischief and misty cafes, and his mouth of murmured lullabies against his own lips late into the night.

Kaizo shakes his head and struggles to take deep breaths against the lump in his throat.

It's all so fresh, too crisp and vivid, and it overwhelms him all at once. Ramen shouldn't be on the couch opposite him. Ramen should be nestled beside him, too close for comfort, with his arm thrown around his shoulders and a sneaky grin, ducking in and leaving him with the taste of eggnog lingering on his lips. Laughing and snuggling his head into his neck, muttering jokes into his ear and making him double over as his drink spills out of his hand...

Kaizo's mind goes blank and he finds himself unable to look away, his eyes transfixed on the blond across the room, or perhaps the spot on the wall just above his head, or right through him at the counter behind. His jaw goes slack, mouth dry, and Ramen doesn't turn his head, maybe intentionally avoiding meeting his gaze.

Why won't you look at me, Kaizo begs silently. Just look at me...

Ramen refuses to answer his silent plea, and Kaizo deflates hopelessly. It's stupid, he should be over this by now, but he can't stop himself, can't forget about it, not when Ramen is right here and so close, closer than he's been in weeks, closer than Kaizo hoped he'd be again, and yet feels further away than ever before.

Blond eyebrows jump in surprise at something Samyung said, too forced, Kaizo thinks, for a natural reaction. He's faking it, but Kaizo could very well be imagining it, a desperate assurance that it's not just him, that they're both suffering together even if they're apart.

That Ramen misses him too.

Kaizo can't breathe. No one seems to notice him fading. Ramen doesn't even glance at him. He's disappearing, floating towards the bathroom, his cup escaping from his hand at some point. He doesn't know if it's empty or full, in the trash or on the floor, he barely registers it as his hands fumble for his jacket and he slips it on, then grabs for a handle, trembling as he turns the lock, and throws the door open.

A rush of cold wind blows by, and someone calls his name behind him, but he doesn't look back, letting his feet carry him to wherever they're headed. He doesn't think, just follows wherever his body will take him.

He stops, once, and turns around, just to stare for a moment. The snowflakes whip around, masking everything in a fuzzy white filter, but there's light glowing around the still-open door. Kaizo squints, straining his eyes as the light fades, door closing, and his heart sinks.

He doesn't know what he expected - maybe the smallest of fleeting hopes that Ramen would be there, staring back out at him, watching him leave. Maybe waiting for him to come back.

The Ramen he remembers would have come running out without a jacket to beckon him back inside. He would shiver in his ugly Christmas sweater, thick wool still too thin for the frigid winter night, but he would still wrap Kaizo in the warmest hug, hold his face close against his chest and tell him the party was stupid anyway - it was much better out here with just the two of them even with the small risk of frostbite.

But he doesn't know if the Ramen he remembers is even Ramen anymore.