Work Text:
you know this moment, don't you?
and time is strangely calm now
'cause everybody's gone
it’s just you and your anger
Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call — Bleachers
The calendar reads December 25th, 2019.
Kim Yooyeon stands in the middle of a modern hotel room in Germany, only a couple miles away from the Dread Tower, speaking softly into her phone.
“Yeah, I’m heading there tomorrow, maybe 9. a.m.. Sure, Just set an alarm—nevermind, those never work on you, do they?” Yooyeon says in a teasing tone, into the speaker of her phone. She’s on a voice call.
Right there, in the middle of the call, Yooyeon realizes her hotel room is cold.
Very cold.
It’s lonely, way too big, and nearly empty if not for her belongings that just made their way in. Her suitcase lies in a small corner between white porcelain walls, unzipped and open.
She stands behind the large glass window, looking at the cityscape outside. From the eleventh floor up, the buildings outside seem somewhat smaller, except for some tall ones.
The dark night sky looms over all of the structures, intimidating and unkind. Yooyeon remembers a time when she would’ve been so envious of it, even wished she could’ve been in that position. At the top.
Despite everything she threw away, everything she left behind and never looked back on, she never did reach that spot on the podium, anyway.
Then what was the point?
What was the point if—
“Hello? Earth to Yooyeon? Are you still there?” Yooyeon’s phone speaks, the voice of the person on the other side.
What was the point if the price of that podium would be to never hear that voice again?
Perhaps there was no point in it after all, because it’s the only voice that I will always answer in a heartbeat, she thinks. “Yes, of course. What’s up? Oh, okay. Yeah, See you.”
The phone lets out a quiet ‘beep’ after she hung up. A tired sigh left her lips. Yooyeon’s eyes scan for something, anything, that will take her mind off of the mess she’s thinking of. She looks at the festive mistletoe hanging at the back of the door. She looks at the red-green fairy lights hugging the walls. She looks at the reindeer-shaped rug on the floor. It doesn’t stop her from thinking.
Yooyeon thinks of how she never did like Christmas. Well, she doesn’t hate Christmas. To say it’s never done anything to her would be wrong, but as a holiday itself, there’s nothing wrong with it.
Except, a big part of it is very wrong, a part of her thinks, because Christmas always reminds her of the past, of the bad, the worst, and everything that should be forgotten but Yooyeon can’t and will never, ever forget about.
Yooyeon dwells on it, although she knows she shouldn’t.
She’s seen Christmas in many places. Her hometown in Seoul, outside her apartment. Japan, Thailand, during the Nationals. The Snake Pit. New York City, America, in the Raging Bulls building and everywhere outside it.
In all of those places, Yooyeon saw different things. But there are a couple things she associates with Christmas.
First of all, red, green, mistletoes, Christmas trees, fairy lights, and shiny ornaments. Then, there’s the memory of getting her bey Spryzen, battling Seoyeon for the first time, coming home to an empty apartment, an undecorated living room, cold food, training hard for the Nationals, locking herself in the Snake Pit training rooms to willingly lose herself, telling herself she wanted the path of throwing everything for a spot on the podium, sore muscles, spending Christmas with her friends but feeling so far away, and Seoyeon’s annual calls.
And then, there’s this: Christmas in the present time. Yooyeon’s eyes never tear away from the scenery of the buildings outside of the glass window as she thinks of this year’s Christmas. She’s spending it in a hotel in Germany, a couple miles away from Dread Tower, because soon she’ll be making her way there to confront Kim Soomin.
For Yooyeon, looking at Kim Soomin is like looking at a reflection of who she was two years ago. Hungry. Desperate. Destructive. Except, Soomin wasn’t as far gone as she was yet—but Soomin was on the brink of it.
Yooyeon needs to stop her before it’s too late.
Because Yooyeon can’t bear to see someone in the same rabbit hole that she once dug herself in two years ago. Even if it’ll cost her everything, Yooyeon will still go out of her way to pull the Soomin out of it.
Because there is still hope for her.
There is still hope for that girl. Something Yooyeon didn’t have, and maybe never had, because the moment she decided to look back, the exit had been sealed and she will never ever forget the dread that piled up in her stomach as she thought she would never be able to leave. And Yooyeon will never ever forget how grateful she felt as she saw her best friend’s hand reach for her, on that puny stadium of the International Beyblader’s Cup in America, as her world began to shine again, even though a voice in the back of her head whispered, you don’t deserve this.
Yooyeon wonders, as she stares at one particularly tall building outside, if she will spend this year’s Christmas alone again. She shoves that thought down as if it never occurred to her in the first place. She makes her way to the king-sized hotel bed and lays down on it.
Yooyeon stares at the ceiling and reminisces.
December 25th, 2015 — four years ago
Yooyeon eagerly spoke into the flimsy, wired apartment telephone, “Hey, I just got my bey! Wanna meet me at the park?”
The recipient was a number she had dialed maybe a thousand times—Yoon Seoyeon, who then replied almost instantly with nothing but excitement in her voice, “You got it! I’m leaving right now!”
Seoyeon had initially called up Yooyeon to say “Merry Christmas,” something she did every year, which Yooyeon deemed ridiculous because they both know that she never did celebrate, but the other girl never stopped calling anyway. It was tradition, at that point.
However, sometime during the call, the conversation drifted into one of beyblades (inevitably), and Yooyeon eagerly mentioned she’d gotten her bey, and asked Seoyeon to meet her at the park.
This was the day Yooyeon had gotten Storm Spryzen for the very first time. Ironically, Seoyeon had gotten her own bey, Valtryek, exactly a year before this as a Christmas present from her dad. Yooyeon couldn’t help but chuckle a bit thinking about that memory and how ecstatic Seoyeon was.
With Spryzen perched neatly in her pocket, Yooyeon took the apartment elevator down and made her way to the downtown park, not a long trip, just a couple steps.
The warm sky was a bright shade of blue as it towered over the two girls in a light embrace. There weren’t a lot of tall buildings that surrounded them, just cozy wooden houses and some apartments here and there.
The two of them lived in a coastal town in Seoul, not too big, not too small. They were born there and grew up there too, amongst the grassy hills, the same neighbors, and the big trees.
It was the average town with suburbs and houses and residencies. Yooyeon saw the same landscapes everyday, except for when the Christmas season comes. During December, light snow hadn’t painted the streets yet, but the air was as cold as ever and the green-red decorations brought color to the usually lifeless streets.
Children sang, ornaments lit up the big trees, and Yooyeon’s world was in color—something rare, for a girl who grew up in empty apartments, cold food on the kitchen table, and quiet nights as bedtime stories. The Christmas season brought life back to her.
Yooyeon remembers this day very clearly, she remembers waiting in anticipation for Seoyeon’s arrival. What was supposed to be just another Thursday during winter break turned into a memory engraved in her mind.
The day Valtryek and Spryzen met for the very first time.
“What took you so long?” Yooyeon joked, letting out an amused laugh at Seoyeon, who was still panting. Yooyeon had to hand it to her, the other girl tried her best to get there as soon as possible, considering the park wasn’t a short trip from Seoyeon’s house.
“This—” Yooyeon pulled out the bey from her pocket—Storm Spryzen—scarlet and shining in all of its glory, “—is my bey, Spryzen.”
At the time, it hadn’t cracked yet. At the time, everything was fine.
“Nice one, pretty cool! Still, doesn’t stand a chance against Valtryek though!” Seoyeon held up her very first bey, Victory Valtryek, with hands that shook with nothing but pride and excitement. It was a royal shade of blue and seemed to glint with elation. At the time, it was the only bey Yooyeon deemed a worthy opponent, although that was something she would never admit.
“For now, maybe not,” Yooyeon admitted the truth, “but just so you know, I’m gonna train super hard!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“Then let’s have a battle right here, right now!”
As they launched their beys, Yooyeon’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. It was thrilling, the rush of the battle, the satisfying sound of the metal clink of their beys clashing, the adrenaline that rose when the other bey was knocked out of the stadium. It was… fun. There would be no other word to describe it. The two of them battled maybe almost ten times at the stadium.
“Oh yeah! Another win for me!” Seoyeon boasted, smiling excitedly from ear to ear.
The previously bright-blue sky had turned orange. Strangely enough, Yooyeon didn’t feel like a lot of time had passed.
Yooyeon remembers thinking so hard about why she was losing, then realized, “I think that launch failed because my hand was moving… One more time! I need the practice!”
“I’m kinda tired,” Seoyeon muttered sheepishly, scratching the back of her head, “Can’t we take a break and chill?”
“Not yet, I have to build muscle memory,” was Yooyeon’s ambitious response, “I’m so close. I gotta have the perfect technique.”
“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Seoyeon gave in, a warm smile on her face, picking Valtryek up from the concrete floor before Yooyeon spoke once more.
“Hey,” Yooyeon muttered, and watched as Seoyeon perked her head up, before continuing, “this is fun,” Yooyeon flashed a genuine smile.
“Thank you for battling with me, Seoyeonie.”
Seoyeon seemed to be caught off-guard by the sudden confession, it was unlike Yooyeon to be so honest, but still, she grinned, “No problem, Yooyeonie.”
Yooyeon looked down on Spryzen, her grip firm. “I have to train and get this right. I’ll master this… I owe it to my bey.”
Those last words would just sound like sheer determination to Seoyeon and anyone else, but Yooyeon realizes they weren’t. Those words were a lifelong promise between her and Spryzen.
After a couple more battles, the two wrapped it up as Seoyeon had to go home for dinner. Yooyeon vaguely remembers walking the festive streets of her hometown to go back to her apartment, admiring the scenery and smiling the whole way, the thrill of the previous battles lingering. It was fun. Beyblading was… fun.
Yooyeon liked it.
Yooyeon remembers walking back home and seeing her apartment room empty, yet again. A scene she has memorized for all her life. No Christmas tree, no lit up ornaments, no fairy lights, but the same kitchen counters, the same sofa, the same powered off TV and the same cold AC, with the presence of nobody but herself.
A small note on the grey-white marbled kitchen counter, presumably from her mom, read: “Sorry, couldn’t make it home today. I’ll make it up to you next week. Merry Christmas.”
But she never did make it up to her next week, or the week after, or the week after that, unlike how she had promised and said a thousand times before. As years passed by with no change, Yooyeon learned not to dwell on it. There was nothing she could do but accept the bitter truth: she didn’t have a large loving family to sing Christmas songs with or decorate this empty lifeless apartment with mistletoes and fairy lights or even her mother’s presence and help to set up a Christmas tree.
But she had to deal with it. Because there was nothing else she could do. Because what are you supposed to do, as a twelve year old girl, when you realize you have nobody but yourself to survive for?
She did the usual routine; she made herself spaghetti Napolitan, ate it alone, brushed her teeth, and walked to her room. But as she sat on her bed and longingly stared at how Spryzen shined charmingly in the small grip of her palm, Yooyeon came to a sudden realization.
Perhaps, her Christmas present was Spryzen and all of those thrilling beybattles with Seoyeon at the park.
And, at the time, it was more than enough for her.
But it wouldn’t be for long.
December 25th, 2016 — three years ago
It was the first Christmas day Yooyeon didn’t spend alone.
Initially, Yooyeon spent this Christmas season knowing national team battles were just around the corner. Although the national team battles weren’t particularly the main thing on her mind, the individual battles were.
The sky was orange, a beautiful shade of the sunset, a reminder of the evening, but also embodying Yooyeon’s burning passion.
Yooyeon had to beat her—Park Sohyun—this year. She had to do it. No matter what it took. No matter how long it took for her to train, no matter how sore her muscles got, no matter how much her shoulder hurt, she would do anything to just beat her.
Because she had made a promise, a pact, to Seoyeon: to meet her in the nationals, and Yooyeon wasn’t going to break that pact.
No matter what it took.
Yooyeon will meet Seoyeon in the finals.
That’s why Yooyeon spent this Christmas day training in the small stadium in the park.
Because there was nothing else she could really do.
Her apartment was empty, as usual, and she didn’t feel like spending the entire day waiting for her mother to come home knowing she wouldn’t. She didn’t feel like cooking pasta knowing she would end up eating all of it by herself, and she didn’t feel like sitting on the grey sofa that felt too big just to watch some crappy TV shows that encouraged you to celebrate Christmas with your family—because Yooyeon knew full well that she would never ever be able to do that.
And Yooyeon wasn’t stupid enough to wish that “maybe this year” it would happen, because she used to do that, and it never happened anyway, and all she got in return for her naive wishes was a pile of notes on the kitchen counter that mumbled insincere apologies.
And so, Yooyeon realized she had gotten used to spending Christmas alone, as she launched Spryzen one more time into the stadium. But when Spryzen only wobbled, barely spinning after she launched it, she decided to take a break. Yooyeon wiped her face with the white towel she always brought when she would train, and then her phone rang.
Very loudly.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Yooyeon took her phone out of her pocket, she smiled after she saw the caller’s name—Seoyeon. Because, of course, Seoyeon would call. Yooyeon pressed the ‘accept’ button.
“Yooyeon!” Seoyeon’s voice was loud, very loud, and Yooyeon instinctively pulled the phone away from his ear, “Merry Christmas! What’re you up to? Well, I’m doing super great!”
Yooyeon sighed, trying her best to make sense of what she’d just heard. “Merry Christmas to you, too. I’m just training. What are you doing?” After she said that, she could’ve sworn she heard some whispers from the other line.
“Oh, nothing much, just… Looking at my very cool best friend training,” Seoyeon replied, Yooyeon could hear the smile in her voice.
Shu turns around, and lo and behold…
It’s Seoyeon. And the entire BeyClub.
Seoyeon, Nakyoung, Yubin, and Nien were all standing on the grassy hill right beside the stadium, before they all simultaneously ran down and, quite literally, crashed Yooyeon’s training session.
“Merry Christmas!” they had all said at the same time.
Laughter filled the scene, and Yooyeon will never be able to forget how she felt so alive at that time, and for a second, she thought Christmas may not be that bad. She didn’t have her family to sing Christmas songs with, she didn’t have an apartment decorated in green-red fairy lights and warmth, but she found that warmth somewhere else, in the laughter of her friends and the grin on Seoyeon’s face.
Yooyeonfelt an inevitable smile slip on her face, it absolutely did reach her eyes—physical proof of how glad she was that Seoyeon asked her to join the BeyClub.
“Merry Christmas to you guys, too,” Yooyeon’s warm smile never left. Then it dropped, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “So, tell me why you guys decided to crash my training session?”
“Uhm…” Seoyeon trailed off, a sheepish look on her face as she scratched the back of her head. She nudged Nakyoung’s shoulder.
“What!? Why me!? Yubin, you answer!”
“What? I joined this plan last minute—”
“Guys, now is really not the time to be fighting—”
“This was Seoyeon’s idea—”
“Yeah, this was my idea, but—”
Yooyeon sighed, “One at a time, guys,” and all of them turned to Seoyeon.
“Well, at first, I walked by the park and saw you training all alone and felt kinda sad,” Seoyeon pouted as she continued, “Then I bumped into Nakyoung and told her my plan to crash your training session! We were ‘bout to do it, then we saw Nien, then we met Yubin, and I thought it’d be better if…”
“If you all crashed my training session at the same time?” Yooyeon deadpanned.
“Yeah!”
“Anyway,” Nakyoung suddenly said, “We were kinda confused why you were practicing all alone. It’s Christmas, you should take a break.”
“Yeah! You’ve really got to take your own advice sometimes,” Nien dramatically advised as if Yooyeon was a little kid. “You told us that we need to take a break so we don’t push ourselves over the limit, and Seoyeon—” She shot a glance at the said girl, “—even made the entire club take a day off in the name of your advice! But here you are, practicing alone, when it’s Christmas. What a tragedy.”
Nien did have a point, but Yooyeon tried to reason, “Well, the nationals are coming up, so I figured—”
“No!” Seoyeon interrupted, “What you figured is wrong! Guys, how about we all go back to Yooyeon’s apartment and eat her pasta! What do you say?”
“You’re just saying that because you’re hungry!” Yubin rolled her eyes.
Nakyoung seemed to give it some thought, then she said with a cheeky smile, “Yooyeon’s pasta is really good though…”
“So,” Seoyeon took a moment to ask, “What do you think, Yooyeon?”
Yooyeon sighed in defeat, “Okay, let’s go.”
“Woohoo! I’ve been craving Yooyeon’s carbonara pasta!”
“See, you just said that because you’re hungry!”
“Shut up, Yubam! Don’t act like you’re not hungry too!”
“I feel kinda bad for Yooyeon, she has to cook for all of us.”
“It’s fine,” Yooyeon had said while smiling, and it was actually fine, since it was the BeyClub. She was also just partially glad that she wouldn’t be eating dinner on Christmas alone, like she did the past couple years.
When they reached the apartment, which was only a small walk away, Yooyeon turned on the lights and told everyone to make themselves at home.
Home. A weird word for her. A word She never felt connected to, until that Christmas day.
She tried not to dwell too hard on the fact that the apartment finally felt like home. It finally wasn’t too empty, Seoyeon helped her cook, the kitchen table didn’t feel too big as they all sat together, the plate of pasta not too much even though it was triple the usual amount she cooked for herself, and the air not too cold even though the air conditioner was on its usual setting.
This was the time Yooyeon knew, the apartment was never meant for just one person. And it finally felt like… home.
Yooyeon figured this was how it would’ve felt, to have her family at that apartment, to not spend Christmas alone, to make jokes at the dinner table, to watch TV together. It would’ve felt like this—warm, inviting, comforting. Yooyeon never wanted the scene to end. She almost let herself amuse the thought this was how it’d always be.
Because, at the time, Yooyeon felt it was all more than enough.
At the time, she was so grateful to have Spryzen, to have her best friend, and that Seoyeon asked her to join the BeyClub.
At the time, she was so grateful to be spending Christmas with them.
So, imagine how shocked she would’ve been, if she knew that later, she had willingly thrown it all away?
That she willingly wanted to see this scene dissolve in front of her eyes, in exchange she signed up to see the grim training rooms in the Snake Pit?
The thought wouldn’t even pass her mind, not even for a second—that a couple months after this, she would be crying at the beach in her hometown, staring at the cracked shell of Spryzen, cursing the sky, and that the sweet warmth in her heart would be replaced by bitter vengeance.
Yooyeon never would’ve thought that she would later deem that all of those warm, inviting, comforting feelings as nothing compared to feeling Luinor rupture under her grip as she stood on top of the podium.
Yooyeon never would’ve thought that…
This was how it would be.
and the toughest part is that we both know
what happened to you
why you're out on your own
merry christmas, please don't call
Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call — Bleachers
December 25th, 2017 — two years ago
This was the first Christmas Yooyeon had spent without Seoyeon.
Instead, Yooyeon had spent the Christmas with aggressively roaring stadiums that echoed the shrieks of Spryzen unwillingly moving over and over in circles, her sore muscles, empty isolated rooms, and a haunting mask, with nobody but the suffocating air of the Snake Pit accompanying her. There were no mistletoes, no green-red fairy lights, no shiny ornaments, no festivities and no children singing.
Only a quiet clink! filled the lonely training room—the sound of Spryzen being knocked out of the stadium.
And so Yooyeon launched Spryzen again, and again, and again, and again until she was left panting, muscles sore and head spinning. Because it was easier to be immersed in the repetitive, painful process of losing herself, rather than to admit she was regretting things.
It was easier to pretend she didn’t care, to pretend her deprived heart didn’t stutter when Seoyeon and her friends visited the Snake Pit, rather than to throw it all away when she’s gone so far down the inescapable rabbit hole.
It was easier for Yooyeon to ignore the way Spryzen screamed, to ignore the way she hated these training rooms, to ignore the way she despised the entire location as a whole, and to ignore the way she wished for nothing more than to be out, out of this rabbit hole disguised as a podium—rather than to give in to the itch of calling her best friend.
Because she had betrayed that very person.
And it was easier for her to run away rather than admit the guilt, the shame, and the pain of throwing it all away. So here she was, on Christmas day, standing in an empty, isolated, training room, with nobody but herself. She’d told herself that she was satisfied. That she wanted this, she so badly wanted this position—to be on the top of the podium, to get revenge for everyone who sought to prove her otherwise.
She ignored the voice in the deepest depths of her heart, the voice she had now gotten very familiar with, that repeatedly whispered, you threw it all away for a couple seconds on the podium, but isn’t it lonely up there?
“I’m sorry. I know I broke our pact,” Yooyeon vaguely remembered the memory; a year ago, she was standing on a beach in Seoul, cradling Valtryek gently in her palm, fondly staring at her best friend playing in the ocean and whispering, “someday, I'll make it up to you.”
So she tried to justify it all by thinking: through this path, she would make it up to Seoyeon. She would bury the shame she felt from breaking their promise, and in turn, it would be fulfilled—she would battle her best friend properly, strike vengeance upon Luinor for destroying Spryzen, and get rid of everything in her way.
Yooyeon pretended not to hear the soft voicein the back of her head that said, you know that Seoyeon would rather have you back than battle you like this. She pretended not to hear it, because she, at the time, would rather battle at full strength than to be Kim Yooyeon again; because Kim Yooyeon was weak and unworthy and disappointingly incompetent, and she broke their promise. Red Eye could and would do better.
Come back, a voice—her best friend’s—pleaded.
There’s nothing worth coming back to, she thought.
Yooyeon ignored it all—that voice, the ache in her heart that longed to leave, the pain in her muscles, and the dim, tired glint in Spryzen’s eyes—and instead listened attentively to the whisper at the back of her head that insisted: you need to win.
Yooyeon needed to win.
Yooyeon needed to win.
Yooyeon needed to win, because who was she, if not for the scar on her right eye, if not for the medals she’s won from countless tournaments, if not for the bitter vengeance trapped in her heart?
And so she continued to train, over and over again, because she knew what the answer would be: she was a loser. She was a loser, practicing all alone on Christmas day.
A loser who was, foolishly, lured into the grim rabbit hole of ambition, who was eaten up by fake promises of success, and was just now realizing it.
A loser who started to regret the path she took, and used every fibre of her being to turn around, only to realize the exit door was nowhere to be found.
A loser who couldn’t accept defeat.
But most of all, she was a loser who missed the voice of her best friend with all of her crooked heart.
She pretended not to.
She pretended she didn’t care, pretended she was satisfied with this path, and pretended she wasn’t slowly forgetting Seoyeon’s voice.
Because how is she supposed to forgive herself for that?
Her pondering question was interrupted by the sound of Xinyu’s voice through the speaker on the corner of the room: “Red Eye, you are to battle Azure Eye tomorrow. Understood?”
“Understood,” was Yooyeon’s reply. Short. Monotone.
That was how it always was—command after command, battle after battle after battle, a sickening, repetitive motion loop that Yooyeon could never admit she despised or she would lose the spot on the podium she so badly wanted, she so badly yearned for, that she deemed that only a couple seconds on it would be worth losing the only things that mattered: the BeyClub, her best friend, and...
When was the last time she ever saw beyblading as fun?
Maybe it was the team battles. Maybe it was her battle with Seoyeon at the district tournament. Maybe it was before she got the scar on her right eye. Yooyeon couldn’t remember, and she pretended she couldn’t care less.
To Yooyeon, pretending, ignoring, and running away was more prominent in the air than the chilling cold in the December wind.
Because that was what she had always done, right? She’s so good at running away, ignoring the pain in her arm, ignoring Seoyeoh’s pleas to rest her shoulder, and now ignoring everything and everyone, just for her own ambitions.
This Christmas day was the first time Shu didn’t hear Seoyeon wish her ‘Merry Christmas.’
In truth, at the time, she didn’t know if Seoyeon called her or not. She didn’t have it in her to check her phone, because then she’d see all of the messages, the missed calls, the bricks of texts, and the shouts of people missing who she was before.
Kim Yooyeon, a girl from Seoul, a genius beyblading prodigy, one of the finalists of the South Korea National Tournament, a member of the Seoul Academy BeyClub, an eighth-grade student, and Yoon Seoyeon’s mature childhood best friend.
Before she willingly turned into an empty shell of who she once was. Who she once was, before she threw it all away, in the name of selfishness, strength, and power disguised as a golden medal.
Yooyeon remembers, during that Christmas, she felt her locked-up heart whisper, please, Seoyeon, don’t call. I don’t think I could bear the guilt of knowing you did, and yet I still pretended I didn’t hear you.
And so, Yooyeon spent that Christmas season with nobody but the bitter realization that she had gone too far to turn back.
But Christmas had always been bitter to her, hadn’t it?
so what if i call,
and you pick up the phone?
and i use this holiday
to make my way to your ghost
Merry Christmas, i miss you — Alex Crichton
December 25th, 2018 — one year ago
For the first time, Yooyeon didn’t spend Christmas day alone. In a literal sense, no.
Yooyeon was sitting by the wooden desk in her personal office in the Raging Bulls building. Not necessarily doing anything. Her office wasn’t in its usual state; the glass walls tinted with green-red fairy lights and mistletoes she’s seen before, decorations that her students insisted on setting up in favor of “Christmas spirit” although it was something she didn’t particularly believe in, Yooyeon let them do it anyway. Her surroundings were festive, but her bandaged heart didn’t particularly feel it.
She didn’t feel it, the festivities, the songs, the celebrations. At the moment, she was, in a sense, numb.
It was cold. Her room was cold, and she was left alone to ponder.
Since it had been a year after that happened, Yooyeon found herself wondering very often, was she still a best friend to Seoyeon? Because, what kind of best friend throws you away for her own success? For her own selfishness? To win? For a couple seconds of adrenaline, the rush and validation from hearing an announcer deem you as “World Champion”?
She could’ve sworn that the title whispered to her: this will save you. Xinyu had told her: this will save you. They all told her that winning was just what she needed, she just needed to get better, to train harder, to win, and Yooyeon had been naive enough to believe those sugar-coated lies.
They all told her that this was what she was missing, the emptiness she felt would be no longer when she got that title, and then suddenly it wasn’t about “winning” anymore, as they told her that all she needed was to feel Luinor crack under her fingertips, all she needed was to get better and stronger, and all she needed was to stand on the top of the podium for just a couple of seconds.
Yooyeon had been naive enough to believe those stupid, sugar-coated lies, as she willingly walked into the machine and created Spryzen Requiem.
And so, Yooyeon traded her entire world just for a couple seconds on that podium, that podium made up of torn dreams, missed calls, broken pieces of beyblades, and her best friend’s tears. Up there, at the top, she hadn’t been conscious enough to realize it, but the feeling lingered in the back of her head: this was the worst she’d ever felt.
It was so quiet. It was so silent. Up there, at the stadium, during the International Beyblader’s Cup in America, it was so quiet. It wasn’t fun. Battling wasn’t fun, even though she was battling Seoyeon, it wasn’t fun anymore, and Yooyeon realized she had no control over herself, and that it wasn’t her up there, who stared at her best friend with eyes of hatred and vengeance and the troubling need to win. She wasn’t battling over and over again because it was fun, like she once did, but instead, because she wanted so badly to win.
And, up there, on the stage, with thousands of people watching, Kim Yooyeon realized she had lost herself.
That she had gone too far, and there was no turning back, and she was gone forever, and she had no sense of control over herself anymore, and she had turned into the very monster she had despised. Battling became just a series of motion for her, repetitive movements of launching, just spinning circular tops, as she and Seoyeon battled over and over again until the eighteenth time, and it wasn’t fun. Yooyeon realized she had treated her entire world for nothing.
At the eighteenth battle, Spryzen burst.
And, up there, on the stage, with thousands of people watching, Kim Yooyeon realized she had found herself in the palm of Yoon Seoyeon’s hand again.
And, perhaps, she had traded her entire world for nothing, but there was something in return that had never left—her best friend.
At long last, beyblading became fun again, as Yooyeon offered to battle one more time.
Since it had been a year after that happened, Yooyeon found herself wondering very often, did she deserve it? Did she deserve to accept Seoyeon’s hand that reached out? Did she deserve Seoyeon’s genuine smile that seemed so authentic, so happy to just have her best friend back?
Yooyeon knew the answer: no.
She didn’t deserve any of it, because she had been so cruel to her, to all of them, and she had frankly thrown them all away in favor of herself. And anyone sane enough would’ve turned away the moment Yooyeon lashed out at them and accepted the fact that she wasn’t coming back. But still, at the edge of the cliff, as her hand sat frozen in the bandaged cast, Yooyeon was shocked to see everyone… reached out to her, and they just seemed so happy to have her back.
Yooyeon knew she didn’t deserve their forgiveness. But now that she had them back, Yooyeon would never ever throw it all away again.
Because she had all of this before, this warmth, back when she still lived in Seoul, and she deemed it wasn’t enough as she seeked for more. But then, at the time, after all of it happened and her friends gathered in her kitchen while she cooked pasta, she realized that all of this was enough. More than enough. And she would never seek for more, ever again.
Yooyeon forced herself to snap out of her thoughts to open her phone, and saw the notification: the BeyClub groupchat wishing each other Merry Christmas. Another tradition they had built over the years. Yooyeon scrolled over, and she saw her call logs.
Four missed calls from Nakyoung, Yubin, and Nien, one call from her mother, but her finger freezes as she comes across:
Thirteen missed calls from Seoyeon, dating back to December 25th from the year before.
And suddenly, the feeling of dread piled again in her stomach.
Well, of course she called, no matter how hard Yooyeon pleaded please, don’t call, from the bottom of her buried heart a year ago, she knew deep down that, of course, Seoyeon would call.
Because she always did.
Because Seoyeon never gave up.
Because that was who Seoyeon was, her best friend, so relentlessly forgiving to the point it nearly made Yooyeon sick to her stomach with shame, because she didn’t deserve any of it.
Yooyeon almost felt transported back to December 2017, purposely neglecting her phone, and thought of Seoyeon on the other line, trying to call her again and again and again just to be able to wish her ‘Merry Christmas’ while Yooyeon was rotting in the Snake Pit, trying to train again and again and again just to forget her voice.
And Yooyeon suddenly felt as if her hands were soiled, and she wondered what the point of it all was. Maybe a hundred years wouldn’t be enough to atone for what she’d done, and—
Ring!—her phone shouted its usual ringtone—Ring! Ring!
Yooyeon stared at her phone, realized the caller is Seoyeon, and did a double take. It was… Seoyeon. Because of course it was. Of course, Seoyeon would call. Because she always did. How ironic in this situation.
“Yooyeon!” Seoyeon’s voice pierced through the thick wind in her room, and through Yooyeon’s messy thoughts. “Finally, you picked up!”
“Uh… yeah, Seoyeon,” Yooyeon replied, trying to sound as fine as possible, although her voice betrayed her as it had the slightest raspy hint of despair. “What’s up?”
“...You alright?” Seoyeon asked, voice straining with concern. Of course, she knew. Only Seoyeon could see through it all.
Yooyeon sighed, and tried again to sound normal, “Yeah, of course. What were you about to say?”
“Okay, well, I just wanted to say—”
“Merry Christmas?” Yooyeon let herself chuckle a bit, already knowing what Seoyeon would say.
“Yeah, you know me too well,” On the other line, Seoyeon laughed, giggled even, while saying: “Merry Christmas, Yooyeon!”
“Merry Christmas, Seoyeonie,” Yooyeon wished the other girl, and then said, “I hope you get everything you want this year.”
She said it as a joke, but it was actually an unfiltered whisper from her heart. If Yooyeon had more guts, the full version would’ve been; I hope you get everything you want this year, and the year after, and the year after that. Thank you for calling me. You mean more to me than any title. I’m sorry.
“Aw, thanks! You too, Yooyeonie!” came Seoyeon’s beam of awe from the other line. She sounded like she was returning the joke, but a small part of her voice echoed: you too, Yooyeon. It’s okay. I’m just so glad to have you back.
They talked for a while on the phone, maybe fifteen minutes, before Seoyeon had to leave. Apparently, BC Sol did festive Christmas celebrations, and the other girl was much needed for the occasion.
Yooyeon spent that Christmas season with a call from Seoyeon, a bunch of wishes from her friends and students, and she deemed it was more than enough.
And she could never ask for more.
Even though a part of her mind still whispered, you don’t deserve this peace.
The calendar beside Yooyeon’s bed now reads December 25th, 2019.
What snaps her out of her thoughts was her ringtone—Ring! Ring! Ring!
She looks at the caller and it’s… Seoyeon. Yooyeon chuckled, like she did all those years ago when she saw her best friend calling her on Christmas day, because of course it’s Seoyeon. Of course, Seoyeon would call, Yooyeon thinks as she presses the ‘accept’ button like she did all those years ago.
“Yooyeon!” Seoyeon’s voice is still ecstatic, full of energy, but a little mature. She’s older now, not the little kid she once was, but still her best friend and Yooyeon can still hear the smile in in the other girl’s voice as she asks, “Where are you right now?”
“Where am I?” Yooyeon repeats the question, a bit confused herself. “I’m… at the hotel.”
That’s when someone knocks—once, twice, then thrice—on the door of her hotel room, so Yooyeon says into the speaker of her phone, “Wait, Seoyeon. Someone’s at the door.”
Then, Yooyeon realizes.
A smile is on her face as she realizes it’s Seoyeon behind that door, because of how her voice echoes on the other side of the line and she nearly laughs herself, because it’s so her. That’s just what her best friend would do.
Of course, Seoyeon would show up uninvited to Yooyeon’s hotel room, because for once they’re not separated by distance or by emotion, and it’s just like how it was four years ago when she lived right next door and the sky was warm and everything was fine.
Yooyeon opens the door, and, of course, it’s Seoyeon on the other side. Her best friend is just how she remembered; her hair the shade of black it always was, the mole on her nose, her face slightly flushed from the cold wind and a sweet smile plastered across her face—the kind of smile that crinkles her eyes in a beautiful way, a smile Yooyeon had seen a million times.
“Merry Christmas, Yooyeon!” Seoyeon laughed as she said it.
Of course, it’s Seoyeon.
Who else could it be?
Yooyeon shakes her head and laughs lightly. “I knew it.”
“Wha— how’d you know!?” Seoyeon pouted, “I was trying my best!”
Banter filled the previously silent cold air, as Yooyeon closes the door behind her, and Seoyeon takes off the thick fur coat. Yooyeon ignores how warm her heart feels when Seoyeon promptly treats the hotel like a shared apartment. Seoyeon asks if she’s cooking pasta tonight, Yooyeon wasn’t thinking of doing so, but then she looks at her best friend’s cheeky smile and realizes this is one of Seoyeon’s indirect pleas for her to cook pasta, so she did.
It’s so domestic, and for a moment, Yooyeon nearly forgets everything that has happened—
Until she looks at Spryzen on the nightstand and sees Valtryek sitting right beside it. Seoyeon must’ve put it there after she entered.
They talk and catch up while Yooyeon cooks pasta and Seoyeon is watching those crappy shows on TV that encourage you to spend Christmas with your family, sitting on a sofa that felt too big when Yooyeon first sat on it, and suddenly the hotel room doesn’t feel as big or as cold as it once was when she first entered.
It’s weird how the presence of just one person could make a place change so drastically.
The pasta is finished cooking, Yooyeon serves some on Seoyeon’s plate, then they both sit on the sofa, now the perfect size. They change the channel to some rom-com that’s playing, and Yooyeon feels content.
For the first time in four years, Yooyeon feels content.
She doesn’t seek for more, and she still feels guilt, but she has accepted it all as the past, and what matters is she will never fall into the same pattern again. Yooyeon doesn’t pretend, ignore, or run away anymore. Yooyeon doesn’t push Spryzen against its limit anymore. Yooyeon finally feels and understands the Christmas festivities, the green-red fairy lights, the mistletoes, and the ornament-decorated tree in the corner.
For the first time in four years, Christmas isn’t bitter to her.
It’s sweet.
And it feels like home.
So this is what Christmas is supposed to be, Yooyeon thinks. It’s not waiting for her mother to come home, it’s not reading another insincere apology letter on the kitchen counter, it’s not training for the Nationals, it’s not locking herself in the Snake Pit training rooms, and it’s not spiraling inside her office in the Raging Bulls.
It’s this.
Christmas is getting an annual call from her best friend. Christmas is sitting on the sofa and eating spaghetti Napolitan while watching rom-coms on the TV with Seoyeon. Christmas is knowing that Yooyeon is sorry, that she will do better. Yooyeon will stop Soomin from becoming the monster she once was.
Perhaps this was the point, after all.
Seoyeon is saying something about how “this show doesn’t really make sense,” but she stops talking when she sees how her best friend stares at her—eyes full of gratitude, as if she’s just happy to see her.
Her best friend is also just how she remembered; Yooyeon’s wearing a black sweater and her long hair a light shade of black it always was, her skin still resembling pale snow, her face flushed a light pink from the cold and a soft smile across her face. The kind of smile that she’d only give on rare occasions, like when she accepted Seoyeon’s hand on the stage during the International Beyblader’s Cup, when she thanked her for asking her to join the BeyClub, and when they battled for the first time.
But there’s a light in her beautiful dark brown eyes that was absent from the previous years, and Seoyeon can hear the smile in Yooyeon’s voice as she whispers:
“Merry Christmas, Seoyeonie,” Yooyeon’s smile widened as she continued, “I hope you get everything you want this year.”
Because Kim Yooyeon had already gotten everything she wants this year. And the next year. And the year after that.
It’s Yoon Seoyeon.
Of course, it’s Seoyeon.
Merry Christmas, thank you for calling.