Hi guys! This is part of a 12 days of Minewt challenge! All Christmas/Holiday themed! As always, I don't own the rights to TMR!

Enjoy!

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He heard the music first, as he started to shake the sleep from his system. It wasn't quite Christmas music, from what Minho could tell in his groggy state, but it was warm and melodical. He noticed the clock as he was in the process of pushing himself out of bed feet-first. It read 3:00 in bright red. What the heck?

He stumbled out of the bedroom, pulling on a navy blue shirt in the process. The lights in his small kitchen were on, but dimmed, and a figure stood in the center wearing plaid pjs and a much-too-large sweatshirt.

"Newt?" He asked, wondering if this was a terrifyingly realistic dream. He hadn't seen the other boy in months, not since their messy breakup. He was scared to move, scared to breathe, not wanting whatever this was to disappear.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" The blonde asked, motioning to turn off the music coming from his phone on the counter.

Yes, Minho thought. "No. What, um, what are you doing?"

Newt took his time before replying, shutting off the music and running his fingers through his messy hair. "I got locked out of my flat." At Minho's quizzical look he continued, "and I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but Tommy's not home and I didn't know where to go and I still had your spare. I'm really sorry I'lljustgonow."

"No, wait." Minho reached out and laid a gentle hand on Newt's shoulder, the familiarity of the gesture both painful and comforting to both of them. "Stay. It's okay."

This was real. Newt was actually here, in his apartment, and not trying to kill him. He moved to make them hot chocolate as Newt retreated to the living room. He didn't know what to say, what to do, but he knew this was his chance to fix everything.

The two had met in their junior year of college, when Newt had transferred from England to his school. They were in the same lit class, both suffering through it and complaining about how stupid it was that they needed to read Shakespeare to graduate. Minho had been awful, barely managing Cs on his essays, but Newt, even though he hated the class, was able to secure top marks on every assignment. Minho was sure it was just because he was British, but since he was willing to help his struggling classmate he had kept his mouth shut.

After noticing how his two friends were dancing around each other, Thomas had taken it upon himself to push the two together, which was both the best and the worst thing the brunette had ever done. What had been slowly burning throughout the semester went up in flames as they began their relationship. They were consumed in passion, whether it be good or bad. They were volatile and explosive and too in love to notice the approaching fallout.

Minho had never really fallen out of love with Newt, didn't know if that would ever be possible. The blonde had been his fuse for two years, that couldn't easily be forgotten. After they had split Minho felt as if all of the passion he'd ever had walked out the door with Newt. Tonight it had crept back in in the form of tousled hair and Minho's old sweatshirt.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly as he approached the blonde with two steaming mugs. Newt was curled up at the end of his couch, as if he were trying to be as nonexistent as possible.

"Bloody brilliant," the blonde shot back as he accepted the cup. His words lacked the fire Minho was so accustomed to, though.

"So what are you doing locked out of your apartment at three in the morning?"

Newt looked down, as if he didn't realize what he was wearing, and shrugged. "Kind of a stupid story."

"Trust me, I'm used to your stupidity."

Newt turned on the music again and set his phone on the coffee table. He took a deep breath before saying, "I've been staying at Tommy's since I, um"

"Moved out?" Minho supplied.

"Yeah. And I had stepped out for a smoke-"

"You picked that up again?"

Newt shrugged and took a sip of hot chocolate. "Stop worrying, mom." Minho rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I had stepped out for a minute and the shank left without telling me and locked the bloody door. He wasn't answering his phone and I didn't know where else to go."

"But you said you had my spare?"

"It was in the sweatshirt pocket," Newt said, his cheeks turning red.

"My sweatshirt pocket. I can't believe you still wear this old thing," Minho said, thumbing the sleeve. Newt flinched at the contact but didn't move Minho's hand.

"I like it. It's soft and it stillsmellslikeyou," the blonde replied, mumbling the second half.

Minho let the comment go, knowing Newt wouldn't appreciate his mentioning it. "I'm not complaining, but why'd you come here?"

"I didn't really know where else to go, honestly. I don't really know anyone but you and Tommy."

"And you thought breaking into your exes' house in the middle of the night was a good idea?" Minho asked with light humor.

"It's not breaking in if you gave me a key."

"Touché." Minho took another long sip out of his mug. "Well I'm glad you didn't have to sleep on the street."

"I thought about it. I didn't know how you'd take to me showing up. I was planning to slip out before you woke up."

"Well it's really great to see you again." To this Newt was silent, but he uncurled himself from his tight ball. "How've you been otherwise?"

"Honestly? It's been really shitty. Living with Tommy is great and all, but he's not-"

"Me."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their hot chocolate and listening to the low murmur of the music. This was uncharacteristic of the two, who were only ever silent if their lips were preoccupied, but the silence was surprisingly comfortable. Minho's mind was racing. Was there a chance Newt still felt the same about him? Was there a chance they could rekindle what they had?

"Dance with me," Minho said suddenly. He peeled himself off the couch and extended a hand to Newt, who gingerly accepted.

Their hands fit perfectly together, as they always had. Minho felt like a high-schooler giddy about holding his crush's hand for the first time. Tingles ran up his arm and he offered Newt an assuring smile.

Once away from the couch, he wrapped his arms around Newt's waist and the younger boy tentatively looped his around Minho's neck. They didn't speak, only swayed back and forth to the calming music. In a moment of confidence, he pulled the blonde closer. Newt let out a small squawk but followed Minho's lead nonetheless.

He sank into Newt's body, burying his head into the taller boy's neck. "I missed this."

Newt let out a low chuckle, "we never did this."

"I mean I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Minho."

They continued dancing together, just enjoying each other's company. When the song ended, Minho took a step back but kept his hands at Newt's waist. They stood there, looking at each other, for a long moment before Minho leaned over and captured Newt's lips in his.

It was everything they had always been but also everything they never were. The same passion was there but with it patience. It didn't lack the usual electricity, but there was also a calmness. Minho taste the smoke from Newt's cigarette and made a note to lecture the younger boy about that later. Their lips moved together effortlessly and Minho pulled the younger boy closer. He felt a hand curl into his hair and deepened the kiss. The blonde was letting out little gasps that Minho couldn't get enough of, couldn't understand how he had survived for so long without them. Without him.

Eventually, the two broke apart with wide grins and flushed cheeks.

"Would you want to get coffee sometime?"

"I hate coffee." Newt deadpanned.

"Tea then, you British shank."

"I don't want it to be, I don't know, the same."

"What do you mean?" Minho asked as he lightly pulled Newt back to the couch.

"It's just, it's us. We're always fighting and storming out and I don't know if I can keep living like that."

Minho ran a hand through his hair, "I know, I don't want that either. But it sucks waking up alone and not seeing you all the time. It's so shucking painful. You know I still have your red teacup and your Fleetwood Mac record, and I'll stumble upon them sometimes and think about how much miss you. It's just really lonely."

"You sap," Newt said, bumping Minho with his shoulder.

"I don't know how to not fight with you, honestly. I don't. But I think it's worth trying."

"Yeah. Besides, I don't know how much longer I can live with Tommy; you know the shank never does his share of the chores?"

"Oh, I know," Minho said with a chuckle. "We were roommates for two years."

"Right, yeah."

The Asian decided to push his luck. "So, uh, you're moving back in?"

"How about you take me on that date and if we can go a day without being at each other's throats I'll consider it."'

"Deal."

"I should probably go," Newt said, looking at his watch, which read 4:30. "Hopefully Tommy's back now, he probably went on an ice cream run."

Minho cleared his throat, "ah, if you want you can stay here. On the couch," he added at Newt's skeptical look.

"Thanks, Minho. I really appreciate it."

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a/n: Not the best ending but I didn't know where else to take it! Hope you enjoyed!