professional booseoksoon enthusiast

1

pshhhhhhhh

A fine shower of droplets sprinkles coldly into your face as the vegetable misters suddenly spring to life overhead.

"Dammit!" you grumble to yourself as you quickly retreat from the heads of broccoli you were restocking onto the refrigerator shelves. You pat your face with your sleeve, ridding it of the unwelcomed moisture. You'd think that with the many years you've been working at the Carats Ridge Food Mart you would have learned how to dodge the misters by now, but apparently not.

You step back, waiting for them to shut off again before you finish stacking the last few broccoli heads neatly on top of each other. You reach for the stocking cart handle and push it, moving on to the next display; you get about two feet before the cart stops abruptly as it bumps into something — knocking the topmost of the precariously-stacked boxes of veggies off. You catch it before it falls completely, but not before several root vegetables go tumbling to the red-and-white checkered tile floor. Looking up, you see that you've just ran into a customer's cart with yours.

"I'm SO sorry!" you blurt out as you scramble to retrieve the turnips and rutabagas before they roll away. The man bends down, picking up a stray rutabaga that had bounced over to him and handing it to you as you place the rest of the runaway vegetables back onto the cart. As you turn toward him you are greeted with an unfamiliar face — a rare occurrence when you've lived in a town of 1,200 people for your entire life. It takes you a moment before you register who it is: it's Jihoon Lee, the man who moved into the formerly-abandoned house on Hemlock Hill a couple weeks ago.

"That was an accident, I didn't see you there," you tell him as you accept the rutabaga from him, mildly embarrassed at your blunder. "I should have been looking where I was going, I'm sorry," you apologize again.

"It's alright," the man responds with a small polite smile on his face. He's soft-spoken and seemingly a bit shy, judging by his eyes flickering in and out of your gaze. "No big deal."

"You must be Jihoon," you say to him warmly. "I'm y/n. I heard you were the one who just moved into the house up on Hemlock Hill."

Hemlock Hill. The name feels strange coming off your lips for the first time in a long while. It used to be the talk of the town, due to its former resident: an old woman, known only as Agatha, whom nearly the whole town suspected was a witch. Rumors abounded — according to some she practiced black magic or worshipped the devil, which was scandalous enough in and of itself; but there was also a terrifying rumor amongst schoolchildren that if any child wandered too close on her property, she would cook them and eat them. There was never any proof of the far-fetched tales — but that didn't stop the town from making wild speculations and shunning her from society. One frigid winter's day about 10 years ago she was spotted walking into the woods — dazed and incoherent, barefoot and coatless in the snow — and was never seen again. The police searched for days, but never found her. It was presumed she died from exposure, and that her remains were carried off by a bear or mountain lion. The house sat vacant for the next decade, whispers of rumors of its cursed nature still floating around from time to time — but for the most part, no one likes to talk about it anymore.

"Yeah, that's me," he replies, looking sheepish. "Seems like the whole town knows my name already."

"That's Carol Milford's fault," you say quietly, leaning in so no one happens to overhear you. "She's the resident town gossip — if anyone does anything, she'll find out about it and tell everybody and their grandmother."

Jihoon smiles. "I'd always heard that about small towns, but I didn't know how true it was until I got here. This is all very new to me."

"Where did you move here from?" you ask, returning to stocking the shelves. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Seattle," he answers. "Lived practically in the heart of downtown."

"Oh wow! That's so cool," you tell him earnestly. "I went down to Seattle once as a child. I was only six, so I don't remember all that much, but it felt like a different world."

"It definitely is," Jihoon agrees. The misters suddenly spring to life again right as you're leaning into the shelves.

"Oh, not again!" you mumble, quickly wiping the mist off your face. A grin pokes at the corners of Jihoon's mouth, but he shoves it back down. He was amused by your reaction, not laughing at you — but he met you one minute ago, and he doesn't want to make a bad first impression.

"Anyway, I live just down the road from you," you continue. "About a five minute drive. So I suppose that makes us sort-of neighbors!"

"Oh!" Jihoon remarks interestedly. "That's good to know."

"This is the first time I've ever actually had a new neighbor, so it's pretty exciting for me! If that tells you how eventful it usually is around here," you laugh. "But I'll stop bothering you now and let you get back to your shopping. It was nice to meet you!" you tell him cheerfully.

"You're not bothering me," he smiles calmly. "But it was nice to meet you too."

2

"Here you go, hon."

You look up from your newspaper as the waitress slides a plate of fresh, warm apple pie before you.

"Thanks, Janice," you smile at her.

"Of course," she beams back before scurrying off back behind the counter to tend to the other customers.

You had a longer shift at the Food Mart today and you weren't in the mood to cook, so you stopped by the C.R. Diner on your way home for a hearty meal — which wasn't complete without a slice of their famous pie. As you finish up the delicious apple pastry you reach into your purse and retrieve your wallet, leaving the cash payment on the table behind you as you exit the diner. On your way out, you pass a group of older ladies in the booth behind yours; it's none other than Carol Milford, speaking to her good friends and fellow gossipmongers Matilda Brown and Donna Smith in a hushed tone.

"I heard that's why he moved here — the house is perfect for devil worship, given its history…" she whispers to the other ladies. As you pass, she catches your eye.

"Y/n!" she says to you, waving you over. "Good to see you, darling, how are you?"

"I'm alright, thank you," you reply politely. You don't particularly like the woman, but you know well enough that it's best to stay on her good side.

"We're talking about the new resident," she tells you, lowering her voice slightly. "The one who moved into Agatha's house."

"Yeah, that's Jihoon," you answer casually. "I ran into him at the Food Mart a few days ago, he seemed really nice."

"Be careful with him," Matilda warns. "He's too quiet. And we heard he's practicing black magic just like she was."

You know this is a load of bullshit — a classic case of the elder residents being unwelcoming to a new, young face in town. You don't even believe the old rumors about Agatha, so you certainly don't believe the polite man you met the other day is anything close to a devil worshipper.

"Oh, that's interesting," you say nonchalantly. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Don't speak to him again," Donna tells you insistently. "If you get too close there's a good chance he'll lure you in and use you as a sacrifice."

It takes everything in you not to blatantly roll your eyes at her.

"Right," you reply, desperately trying to get out of the conversation. "Well, thanks for the advice, but I have to head home now. It was nice to see you all."

"Stay safe out there, honey," Carol insists. You nod, giving them a wave as you quickly make your exit.

On your drive home you pass the gravel road leading up to Hemlock Hill, and Jihoon pops into your mind again. You wonder if he even knows about the house's history; you know Carol and company aren't the only ones in town with the same attitude toward it — and you're certain Carol has already told everyone she's seen about the newcomer and his alleged devil worshipping. Most in town know not to fully trust anything she says, but Carats Ridge's superstition around Hemlock Hill runs deep. Jihoon seems like a nice guy — and you just hope others in town meet him with a warm welcome instead of a cold shoulder.

3

"How many entries do we have for the chili cook-off?"

You look up to see Carrie, one of your fellow committee members, looking mildly frazzled. The Yuletide Fest is next weekend, and there's still much to be done in the meantime.

"Um," you reply, picking up one of many clipboards strewn upon the table and counting the names on the list. "Looks like fifteen."

"I thought Tommy Higgins dropped out?"

"He did, but Bill & Susan Alton signed up last minute yesterday before the deadline."

"Okay, great," she replies. "I'll be sure to get that extra table after all so we have enough room."

Yuletide Fest is Carats Ridge's beloved annual tradition — each year on the Winter Solstice nearly the whole town comes out to the makeshift fairgrounds on the town square to celebrate the coming holiday season. There's food, drink, music, and merriment for all — and all of it is put on by you and the other seven members of the Fest committee. A big responsibility, but you've loved the Fest since you were a kid, and despite the stress of it all you love putting the many hours in that it takes to run the whole show. Besides, it's a good way to stay busy this time of year — having a thousand different tasks to juggle all at once is still better than sitting at home, depressed and alone.

You're fortunately at a point where you rarely think about Max anymore, but every once in a while he will find a way to pop into your mind. As you work to untangle the long strand of icicle lights that had been sitting jumbled in a bin since last year, you flash back to Christmas three years ago — the last Christmas you spent with your now-ex-boyfriend. You spent the day together putting up the decorations in your yard, finishing it all up by hanging the lights across the eaves of your house. You very nearly fell off the ladder trying to reach a bit too far; luckily, he caught you before you hit the ground, and you were fine — but that didn't stop him from lovingly teasing you about it for the rest of the season. But Christmas came and went, and soon after so did your relationship. He suddenly decided he'd had enough of small town life and of cold weather, and so practically on a whim he packed his things and headed off for California, leaving Carats Ridge — and you — in the rear view mirror.

Your eyes begin to water, but you quickly brush the tears away before they can fall. In retrospect, your relationship with Max wasn't anything particularly special. You were friends in high school but never dated until a few years after graduation; your only other former boyfriend had also moved away by that point, and you liked Max enough to agree to go on a date with him. Your relationship was fine — happy enough, but even though he was nice you always felt like you weren't getting enough out of it. But, being lonely sounded worse, so you stuck it out. By the time he left, you had gotten so used to being in a relationship that you forgot how to be on your own. You had your friends, sure — and they were there to support and comfort you. But, they couldn't offer you romantic love — and honestly, you came to realize that was something Max didn't even really fulfill for you. You fell into a deep depression; for months you barely left your house, pretty much only going to work and back. It wasn't until Maria suggested the idea of joining the Yuletide Fest committee that you found a reason to go out again.

"C'mon, you've always loved the Fest!" your best friend had reminded you. "And the committee could really use an extra pair of hands."

So you joined the committee. Quickly you acquired about a dozen different responsibilities, leaving you no time to even think about Max anymore. You rekindled your relationship with your community and now you have them to lean on, and for that you are beyond grateful. But still, you often feel alone; there's always that dream of being loved — truly loved — lingering in the back of your mind. You tell yourself it will happen when the moment is right — that you're not doomed to be alone forever. And while you know it's probably true, that there is somebody out there for you, you can't help but wonder when your time will finally come.

4

"If you like piña coladas, and getting caught in the rain…"

The music plays tinnily overhead from Food Mart's old speaker system. You find this song in particular to be bothersome, especially when the store seems to cycle through the same 20 songs over and over again, but you've worked here long enough that you're pretty good at tuning it out. It's been a slow day today — most people aren't grocery shopping mid-afternoon on a rainy Tuesday. You zone out from behind the empty register, staring blankly at the tabloid covers in the checkout line to see if there's anything interesting on them, but no such luck. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a customer heading toward your register. Looking over, you're surprised to see it's Jihoon again, carrying a number of small cans in his hands.

"Hi Jihoon!" you greet him cheerily. "Good to see you again, how are you?"

"Hi, y/n," he smiles timidly as he sets his items on the conveyor belt. "I'm alright, how are you?"

"A bit bored," you admit. "Slow day today." Reaching for the products as they drift toward the scanner, you notice he's buying a handful of cans of Fancy Feast.

"Oh, do you have a cat?" you inquire interestedly as you scan them and place them into a small brown bag.

"No, I don't," he replies, shaking his head. "But there's a stray that's been coming around the house ever since I moved in. I made the mistake of tossing it scraps of chicken and now it won't leave."

"Sounds like it's your cat now," you say with a grin.

"No, no, it's staying outside," he insists. "But it seemed hungry, so I don't mind feeding it."

You ring up the total and Jihoon hands you a couple one dollar bills; you take the cash and give him a quarter in change, your fingertips bumping into his palm lightly as you drop the coin into his hand.

"Thank you," he says politely. As you hand him the paper bag, a thought pops into your head.

"Are you going to the Yuletide Fest?" you ask him. He looks up at you, curious.

"What's that?"

"Only the best day of the year," you grin. "It's a festival that happens on the Winter Solstice every year. This year it's on the 21st — so, this Saturday. I'm on the committee that helps put it together. There's a chili cook-off, all sorts of food and drink, ice skating, live music, carnival games… but the best part is the huge bonfire where you can roast marshmallows," you inform him enthusiastically.

"Wow, that sounds like a huge production. And you put it all together?"

"Myself and a few others, yes," you say proudly. "It's been happening for decades. I loved going as a kid, but even as an adult it's a lot of fun! Nearly the whole town turns out. You should come!"

"Oh, yeah, maybe," he replies. "I'll try and stop by."

"I'll be running the hot cocoa stand this year, come find me and say hi if you do!"

He nods, smiling at you softly.

"I will."

5

"There you go, honey!"

You beam at the small child standing before you as she takes the small styrofoam cup of hot cocoa from you — you made sure to add extra marshmallows, just as she had requested.

"Fank you!" she squeals at the sight of the heaping marshmallows.

"You're welcome!" you tell her, waving goodbye as she excitedly walks back to her parents with her beverage.

As you stash the quarter the child had handed you in the money jar, Kirsten, your fellow hot cocoa stand employee, returns from grabbing another box of cups. As she starts stacking them on the table behind the booth, she notices something, looking out to the fairgrounds with a grimace on her face.

"Look, it's the new guy," she says condescendingly. You follow her gaze to spot none other than Jihoon, slowly wandering around the Fest, seemingly looking for something.

"His name is Jihoon," you inform her casually. She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever, he's a fucking weirdo."

"How so?" you ask, frowning at her. "Have you even met him?"

"No," she scoffs. "And I don't plan too."

"Why not? He's very nice — I've run into him at work a few times now."

"Maybe he seems nice, but you have to be some kind of freak to want to live in that horrible house."

"Do you really believe all those stories about Agatha?" you raise your brow at her.

"She was a batty old witch," Kirsten insists. "God knows what kind of evil magic she was doing up there, the house has to be cursed."

"I think it's much more likely that she was just a lonely, senile old woman," you counter. "There was never any proof of witchcraft found in the house."

"Whatever. That house still gives me the creeps. I don't know why anybody would ever move there."

You purse your lips together, realizing there's probably nothing you can say to change her mind on the matter.

"Would you mind running the stand for a few minutes? I'm going to go say hi."

"Suit yourself," she shrugs. "Your shift is almost over anyway, I'll go find Kelly to take over for you."

"Thanks!" you smile at her, ignoring her negativity. "I'll see you later."

You exit the hot cocoa stand and make a beeline for Jihoon, who is standing in the center of the square looking very lost.

"Hey neighbor!" you call out to him as you approach. He turns, relief washing over his face when he sees it's you.

"Hi," he smiles. "I was trying to find you, but I didn't know where to go."

"You were close," you tell him, pointing to the cocoa stand behind you. "I was right over there." As he looks over to it, Kirsten notices the two of you, glaring at him from across the way. You roll your eyes at her.

"Anyway, I'm so glad you came out!" you say, smiling again as you turn back to Jihoon.

"You sold it so well, I had to come check it out," he smiles back. "This is incredible, you did an amazing job."

"Well, I certainly can't take all the credit, but thank you!" you beam. "Do you want any hot cocoa? I know a guy, you can have it for free," you nudge his arm with your elbow playfully.

"That's alright, I don't think your friend over there likes me very much."

"Oh, ignore her," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "I'll go get it. You want marshmallows?"

Jihoon grins. "Sure."

You quickly go fetch him the promised cocoa — extra marshmallows, of course — not bothering to speak to Kirsten as you do so. You exit the booth and walk back over to him, handing him the steaming cup of cocoa.

"Here you go! On the house."

"Thank you," he says warmly as he accepts the cup. "I appreciate it."

"Anytime," you smile.

You walk Jihoon around the grounds, showing him all there is to see at the Fest, as well as pointing out various townspeople you feel he should know about.

"Ooh! There's the mayor and his wife," you whisper to him, nudging your head in the direction of the gray-haired, bearded man standing at the darts booth.

"Which one?" he asks as he sips the cocoa, downing the delicious beverage.

"The one who looks like an off-duty Santa Claus," you state. Jihoon nearly spits out his drink.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" you ask as he coughs.

"I'm okay," he replies, wiping a dribble of chocolate from his chin, a wide grin spreading across his face. "That was really funny, I just wasn't expecting you to say that."

"Sorry to make you nearly choke," you tell him with a laugh. "Anyway, yeah, Mayor Santa is really nice. Want me to introduce you?"

"Oh, that's alright," he shakes his head. "I don't want to be a bother."

"Well you're certainly not a bother."

"I think most of the people I've met so far would disagree," he shrugs. "But it's okay."

"That's absolutely not okay," you frown. "Have people been rude to your face??"

"I wouldn't say rude," he replies hesitantly. "But definitely a bit… less than welcoming."

"Ugh, I'm really sorry about that," you reply, giving him an apologetic look. A deluge of teenagers suddenly fills the area, hollering and throwing wads of popcorn at each other. You both start moving again, continuing to stroll through the Fest together. "I promise most people here are much nicer than they might seem at first."

"It's okay, I understand why people here wouldn't necessarily trust newcomers. I'm sure I seem like an outsider to them."

"Well, that's definitely part of it…" you start, wondering how much you should say on the matter. But it's his house now — he deserves to know.

"How much do you know about the history of Hemlock Hill?" you ask.

"I know that the lady who lived there before died, if that's what you mean."

"Well yes, that's true," you reply. "But that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Jihoon tilts his head slightly, his eyebrows perking up in curiosity. With a slight sigh, you continue.

"To make a long story short, nearly the whole town was convinced Agatha — the woman who lived there — was a witch who practiced black magic and that the house and the whole hill are cursed now."

Jihoon's eyes widen. "Oh," he remarks. "Well I certainly didn't hear about that part of it."

"Don't worry though — once she died and her house was cleared out they didn't find anything that suggested she was worshipping the devil or anything like that at all," you assure him. "Not that that did much to quell the rumors, though," you admit. "She died ten years ago now, but people still believe that nonsense to this day."

"Wow," Jihoon responds, trying to process this new information. "If you don't mind my asking, do you know how she died?"

"Well, she kind of just wandered off into the woods one day and was never seen again," you tell him. "Some people think she was possessed, but honestly, I think she was just a lonely old recluse who sadly lost her mind."

"That is sad," he agrees, nodding solemnly. "Thank you for telling me though."

"I should probably also tell you that Carol Milford thinks you moved here to worship the devil," you add.

"Oh!" he exclaims. "Well, I can assure you that's not true."

"That's what I tried to tell her, but I'm sure she's told at least half the town about it anyway by now," you say with an eye roll. "I'm really sorry this is the welcome you've received so far. Folks around here can be stubborn, but for the most part they're kindhearted, good people. Hopefully once they get to know you more they'll come to realize that all a bunch of baloney."

Jihoon smiles. "Thanks, I really appreciate you telling me all this, I'm feeling better about everything already."

"Of course! It's your house now, after all. You deserve to know the full story."

By now, you've walked through the entire Fest; as you reach the field at the edge of the fairgrounds, an enormous bonfire pit comes into view, causing Jihoon to stop in his tracks.

"Whoa," he gasps at the majestic sight before him.

"See? I told you — this is the best part," you say, grinning excitedly. "Say, how do you feel about s'mores?"

You and Jihoon make your way over to the bonfire, each taking a long metal skewer and some big, fluffy marshmallows. There's plenty of room around the pit; you find a good spot on the other side of the fire — the rest of the festival providing a gorgeous backdrop as the setting sun begins to fade. Night takes over as you sit together roasting your marshmallows, a massive scattering of stars becoming visible against the darkened sky.

"Wow, I've never seen so many stars before," Jihoon tells you, staring up in amazement at the stunning array of constellations above. "It's beautiful."

You glance over at him, watching as he takes it all in. The dancing flames of the bonfire cast a warm glow upon his lifted face, the light glimmering in the reflection of his dark eyes as he gazes up at the stars. It strikes you how handsome he is — not that you found him unattractive before by any means, but seeing his features up close for the first time, your stomach begins to flutter with excitement.

"Isn't it just lovely?" you remark. Jihoon nods, glancing back over to you; you quickly fix your gaze back on your marshmallow, finding it to be perfectly roasted now.

"S'mores time!" you announce with a grin. You and Jihoon reach for the bar of chocolate sitting between you at the same time, your hands colliding.

"Oops, sorry," you apologize, reaching instead for the graham crackers on the other side of the plate.

"You're alright — here, I got it."

He breaks off a row of chocolate rectangles and hands it to you. You assemble your s'mores, the milk chocolate melting nearly right away as it greets the hot marshmallow. You quickly take a big bite before it can ooze out all over your hands. Jihoon assembles his own s'mores, joining you in taking a bite of the sugary goodness.

"Hits the spot every time," you mumble to him, your mouth still slightly filled with sticky marshmallow.

"I haven't had s'mores in so long," he replies delightedly, finishing off the last bite of his own treat. "That was delicious."

Jihoon's easygoing nature combined with your chatterbox tendencies makes conversation feel effortless; you float naturally from one topic to the next as you sit there together, basking in the tall roaring flames of the bonfire. Your s'mores are long gone, but you have no desire to leave just yet. Without your realizing, nearly an entire hour passes — and the closing hour of the Fest soon arrives.

"Thanks again for coming out," you say to Jihoon as you stroll back through the fairgrounds, the festival staff having kicked everyone out of the fire pit a couple minutes ago. "This was really fun. I'm usually so busy running this whole show that I don't get to experience it like this anymore."

"Thank you for inviting me," Jihoon replies. "I had a really nice time. And I'm feeling a little bit less like a stranger here now," he chuckles.

"Good," you nod. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Away from the massive bonfire now, and with the crowd dissipating as everyone heads home, the cold December wind is starting to chill you to your bones. You shiver, rubbing your palms together to try and warm up your frozen fingers.

"Where are you parked?" Jihoon asks. "I can walk you to your car."

"Oh, thank you — but unfortunately I have to tear down the hot cocoa stand still. Shouldn't take too long though, at least."

"Here," he says to you, retrieving something from his coat pocket. He extends his hand to you, and you see he is offering you a pair of leather gloves. "Take these so you can warm up."

"Oh! That's okay," you tell him, waving your hand to decline. "I'll be fine—"

He places the gloves in your hand anyway. "I insist."

"Okay," you smile at him. "Thank you."

"No problem at all," he nods.

"You better get going before they drag you out of here," you joke as you see a few staff members heading in your direction. Jihoon laughs.

"Alrighty then — goodnight, y/n," he bids you warmly.

"Goodnight! Get home safe."

"I will," he nods. "You do the same."

6

The next morning, you wake up earlier than expected — a bit annoying, since it's Sunday and you were planning to sleep in, but you decide to get up and get a head start on laundry. As you carry the basket of dirty clothes to the laundry room, you spot your jacket hanging on the coat rack by the front door. Walking over to it, the strong residual scent of bonfire smoke hits you; memories of last night immediately flood your mind — memories of sitting by the fire with Jihoon, eating s'mores together, talking and laughing and having a genuinely wonderful time. Smiling absentmindedly, you grab the jacket to toss it in the wash, but something falls from its pocket. You bend down to pick it up, discovering the pair of gloves Jihoon lent you. You set them onto the coffee table, so you can remember to return them to him.

A couple loads of laundry later, you plop down on the couch, ready to laze around and read your new book. As you reach for the novel sitting on the coffee table you notice the gloves again, sitting there beside the paperback, as if waiting for you to do something with them. You flip through the pages to locate your bookmark, starting the next chapter where you left off. The protagonist has just met the love interest, and the story is beginning to heat up — something that normally keeps your undivided attention, but your mind seems to be wandering today. You've only gotten a few pages into the chapter before your eyes flicker back to Jihoon's gloves. You think for a moment. Then, tucking the bookmark between the pages, you toss the book back on the table, grabbing the gloves and your keys as you make your way out the door.

The drive from your house to Jihoon's is a straight shot. There's a couple other houses along Douglas Fir Road, but for the most part it's forested, lined with tall conifer trees — growing denser as you drive deeper into the woods. As you approach a large bend in the road you slow, looking carefully for the entrance to Hemlock Hill Drive. It's a bit hard to see, but a singular rusty mailbox on a wooden post gives it away. You turn onto the gravel road, driving slowly up its steep incline. You're starting to wonder if you're in the wrong place when you finally spot a clearing in the trees up ahead. A charming cabin-style home comes into view; it's clearly old, but much of it looks recently-renovated — a far cry from the cursed, dilapidated house spoken of in the local legends.

You've only been up here one other time in your life — it was sixth grade, and a few of the boys in your class dared you and your friends to sneak onto the property with them. You didn't particularly care for that sort of thing, but then they started calling you chicken, and that was something you were not about to let slide. So you agreed. It was a chilly night — you remember how much you were shivering as you and your friends climbed up the hill. It was dark, nearly pitch black except for the one flashlight you had amongst yourselves. Fear creeped into your bones as you approached the house, all the horrible tales you'd heard of Agatha whirring through your mind as your heart pounded in your ears. The house was unlit as you approached, sitting ominously in the shadows; you felt like it was taunting you, egging you to just come a little closer. The boys were in the middle of bickering about who was brave enough to go knock on the door first when a sudden rustling in the nearby bushes sent all of you running back down the hill, screaming at the top of your lungs as you made your escape.

Seeing it now, years later and in the daylight, you can hardly believe it's the same house. You pull in behind the old blue-and-white pickup truck parked at the end of the drive. The fog is slightly denser up here — lingering in the air like a cold, misty blanket. You climb the steps leading up to the house and knock on the front door. You don't see any lights on inside, but you assume if Jihoon's truck is here then he must be around somewhere. You wait, but no response. You knock again, but something moving in your periphery catches your eye. You turn to spot a large cat walking along the side of the house, headed in your direction. It's a tomcat with a big round head — his long black-and-white fur slightly dusty but still easily spottable against the rich browns and greens of the surrounding foliage.

"Here, kitty kitty," you say as the cat approaches, bending down and reaching out to pet him. You wonder if he's going to run away, but instead he eagerly nuzzles his head against your palm.

Mrrrrow, the cat chirps as you scratch behind his ears.

"Well, aren't you friendly?" you say to the cat. Suddenly noticing the sound of footsteps approaching you from behind, you whip your head around, but it's just Jihoon, sauntering toward you from behind the house with a big stack of chopped firewood in his arms.

"He's getting a little too friendly," he comments as he sets the pile of wood down on the porch. "Guess that's what I get for feeding him." He turns back to face you, his expression warm and welcoming.

"So what brings you up here?"

"I just wanted to return these to you," you reply, pulling his gloves from your pocket and reaching out to hand them to him.

"Oh! You didn't have to drive all the way here just for that," he tells you sheepishly as he takes the gloves from you.

"I told you, I'm only about five minutes down the road," you remind him with a smile. "It's no big deal, really."

"Well, thank you," Jihoon smiles back, his soft cheeks tinged pink from the frigid winter air. "I appreciate it."

"Oh, and here—"

You motion for him to wait as you flutter down the steps, reaching into your car and retrieving something from your glovebox. You return with a miniature spiral notebook in hand, scribbling something on a clean sheet with a ballpoint pen.

"Let me give you my address and phone number. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

You tear the pale yellow sheet from its binding and hand it to Jihoon. He takes it, folding it carefully and tucking it into his shirt pocket.

"You're too nice to me," he chuckles. "But thank you — I will."

"Here," you say, extending the pen and paper to him. "You should give me yours as well."

Phone numbers now exchanged, you've accomplished what you came up here for; as much as you'd like to stay and chat, you did show up to his home unannounced, so you know it's time for you to go.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your firewood now," you tell Jihoon. A hint of sadness seems to flash across his face, but as soon as you blink, it's gone. "It was nice to see you!"

"Good to see you too," he smiles, giving you a wave as you head back down to your car. He watches as you drive away, eyes fixed on you until your car disappears down the hill.

As he steps through the front door to head inside he pulls the small piece of paper from his pocket, staring at your name handwritten neatly in cursive. He searches around the house for where he put his address book — he hasn't needed it once since he moved here, because you are the only person who has actually talked to him so far. He finally locates the small bound booklet in a drawer; he flips to the correct letter and writes down your contact information, contently humming to himself as he does so. He carries on with the renovations he had planned to get done around the house today, catching himself humming again as he paints the window frames, and even singing out loud as he removes gross, wet clumps of leaves from the gutters. As he lays in bed that night, his mind drifts back to you. He decides he needs to find a way to thank you for your kindness, but before he can think of anything he is blissfully drifting off to sleep.

7

Jihoon is driving home from yet another trip to the hardware store when he decides to take a slight detour.

His house is shortly after the intersection of Douglas Fir and Juniper, but instead of going straight he turns left. Juniper Road takes him past Hemlock Hill Drive — but it's also the street you live on. Just like you said, it's about a five minute drive until he reaches a small but cozy-looking red house. Your driveway is vacant, so he assumes you're not home, but he doesn't mind that for this errand. He pulls into the drive and parks; reaching into the breast pocket of his thick, flannel-lined jacket, he locates the small yellow piece of paper he's kept on his person ever since you gave it to him about a week ago. Unfolding it, he double checks your handwriting — he is indeed at the correct house. He retrieves a small, brown envelope from his glovebox and hops out of the truck.

Walking up to your front door, he suddenly becomes a bit nervous. He reminds himself that you showed up to his house unannounced, which he didn't mind, and that you're not even home right now. As climbs the steps up to your porch he sees a small tin letterbox next to your front door — perfect. He drops the card inside and heads back to his truck.

"Leaving already? But you just got here!"

He spins back around, seeing your head poking out from the now-slightly-open front door.

"I didn't think you were home," he replies, taking a few steps back toward the porch. He looks a bit embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning rosy red. "I didn't see your car."

"It's in the shop," you explain. "It was making a weird clunking noise, turns out I had bad motor mounts. If all goes well I'll have it back late tomorrow."

"Oh, wow. How are you getting around then?"

"I'm not," you shrug. "I was just planning to call off work."

"I can give you a ride, if you want," Jihoon offers right away.

"Oh, that's alright, you don't have to do that—"

"It's no problem, really," he insists. He gazes at you warmly. "I don't mind. Besides, you're just down the road — it's not even out of the way."

"Alright, then," you smile softly. "If you insist. I open tomorrow though, so I have to be at Food Mart by 7:30 in the morning."

"Not a problem at all — I can be here at 7:00, if that works."

"Sounds perfect," you grin. "Thank you so much, Jihoon."

"Of course, I'm happy to help."

"So, what did you bring me?" you ask, reaching into the letterbox and pulling out the envelope Jihoon dropped off.

"Oh, just a holiday card," he answers sheepishly, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Figured I'd save on postage."

"Well, next time you drop by be sure to say hi," you tease. "I don't bite. Wanna come in and warm up some?"

He's tempted to say yes, but he shakes his head.

"Thank you, but I have to get back home." He nudges his head toward the wooden planks in his truck bed. "Gotta finish up some repairs on the house before it gets dark."

A flicker of disappointment flashes across your face, but you smile at him.

"Next time, then," you tell him with a nod. "Good luck on the repairs!"

"Thanks, y/n," he replies fondly. "See you in the morning."

You head back inside, carefully tearing the sealed envelope open and pulling out Jihoon's card. On the front is a quaint illustration of a snow-coated forest, a deer standing elegantly between the tall pines. You open it to see a surprisingly lengthy message, written in ink, the lettering slightly messy but still perfectly legible. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you read what he wrote you:

Dear Y/n, I am writing because I want to thank you for your kindness. When I moved to Carats Ridge a few weeks ago, I knew nobody here. Quite frankly, I still don't know anybody — except you. You were the first (and only) person to strike up a real conversation with me, and after a couple weeks of receiving nothing but disdainful glares and muttered whispers as I passed by, the warmth you showed me was like a breath of fresh air. I almost didn't come out to the Yuletide Fest that night — as much as I appreciated the invitation, I didn't want to have to walk into a crowd of strangers whom I knew would not be welcoming toward me. But after much deliberation, I convinced myself to go. I told myself I would just stop by for a few minutes to check things out, that I'd say hi to you and then leave. But then you left your post at the hot cocoa stand, all so you could show me around — and I forgot all about leaving. I had a wonderful night, and it made me feel like I have a place in this town after all. So again, thank you, for being a friend (I hope it's okay that I call you that) when I needed it the most. —Jihoon Lee

It's not until you finish reading that you realize you're crying. You wipe the tears from your face, but they continue to trickle down your cheeks as you read the touching message a second time. Closing the card before you keep crying in the middle of your kitchen, you walk over to your fridge and post it to front of the door with a magnet — right at eye level, so you can see it every time you pass by.

—

You're finishing your second cup of coffee when you hear the soft rumble of Jihoon's truck as he pulls into your driveway again. You peep at the clock — 7:00am on the dot. Quickly donning your coat and boots, you grab your purse and head out to greet him.

"Morning!" you call as you scurry down the steps and over to his car. You see it's already started to snow — a light dusting of flakes starting to cover your yard in a frosty white blanket. Jihoon gets out and walks around the truck, meeting you at the passenger side door.

"Good morning," he says warmly, opening the door for you.

"Thanks!" you say as you hop inside the vehicle, relieved to find it comfortably toasty. Jihoon shuts the door and returns to the driver's seat, shifting the truck into reverse and backing out of your driveway.

"How'd your repairs go yesterday?" you ask as he reaches the main road, shifting into gear and beginning the drive to Food Mart.

"Much better than expected, honestly," he answers cheerily. "Finished up fixing the side of the house. Some of the old wood was rotting — it nearly crumbled in my hands as I stripped it down. But now it's good as new."

"You must be very handy to be fixing all that yourself," you commend him. "Do you work in construction at all?"

Jihoon shakes his head. "Nope, I learned it all from my dad. He was always having me help around the house when I was a kid. I didn't mind it then, but it's definitely been very useful these days."

"That's nice! What do you do for work then, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm a writer," he answers. "When I'm not fixing up the house, I'm working on my book."

"Whoa, that's so cool! What's it about?"

"It's um, kind of a science fiction novel. I know that's pretty dorky," he chuckles shyly. "But there's also romance involved."

"Oh, romance is my favorite genre! But I don't think that's dorky at all," you assure him. "It sounds impressive. What made you want to write science fiction?"

"It's always been my favorite genre. Do you know Dune?"

You shake your head. "Sorry, never heard of it."

"That's okay," he smiles. "It's iconic in the world of sci-fi literature, but it's not exactly mainstream. It was my favorite book when I was younger."

"Tell me about it!" you respond. "I'm curious."

"Um," he laughs nervously. "Well, it's quite long and complicated, but basically it's about a boy who moves to a desert planet called Arrakis — there's this highly coveted substance called spice that's basically a magic drug and Arrakis is the only place in the universe where it exists. They mine it from the desert, but there's these massive worms that live in the sand that interfere, and there's also this group of people who live in the desert called the Fremen—"

He glances over at you, seeing the stark confusion on your face.

"Sorry, you lost me at the big sand worm," you giggle.

"Fair enough," he laughs. "But yeah, I love the worldbuilding and the intergalactic politics of it all. My novel is nowhere near as complex, though. I've kind of ended up focusing on the romance aspect of it more than I expected."

"Well I'll definitely have to read it when it's published, then," you smile.

The green roof of Food Mart comes into view as you near your destination. Jihoon turns into the parking lot, pulling into the spot closest to the grocery store's front door.

"Well, here you are," he says as he shifts the car into park. "What time do you get off? I'll come pick you up."

"I get off at 4:00pm, but I'll have to go pick up my car."

"No problem, I can take you to the auto shop."

"Amazing — you're the best!" you beam at him, making him turn slightly pink. "See you later!"

"See you later," he smiles back at you as you exit the truck. He waits to make sure you can get in — it's far too cold to be stranded outside — but luckily the door is already unlocked. You look back as you step inside, giving him a cheerful wave goodbye. He reciprocates, gazing at you softly through the window as you disappear into the store.

—

True to his word, Jihoon returns to Food Mart at 4 o'clock to pick you up. He drives you to the auto shop, where you're relieved to find your car is just about fixed.

"You sure you're fine waiting here by yourself?" he asks when you tell him the good news.

"Yeah! It'll only be about 30 minutes. Please — go home, you don't need to wait around for me."

"Okay," he agrees. "But call me if something comes up, okay?"

"I will. Thanks again for the rides!"

"Of course. See you later, y/n."

Driving home, Jihoon approaches the intersection of Douglas Fir and Juniper. He hesitates at the stop sign, thinking for a moment, before deciding to turn left.

You pull up to your house about 45 minutes later to see Jihoon's truck once again parked outside, and its owner halfway through shoveling the snow from your driveway.

He turns as you slowly pull into the shoveled end of the drive, giving you a polite wave.

"What on earth are you doing??" you inquire as you step out of the car.

"Shoveling your driveway."

"I see that, but why?" 

Jihoon shrugs. "It snowed a couple inches. How else were you going to be able to park?" 

The way he says it is so matter-of-fact, so nonchalant — as if he didn't go out completely of his way to do a massive chore for you without you ever even asking.

You're not entirely sure why, but you nearly burst into tears right then and there. Instead you hold it in, blinking away the excess saline, hoping it appears as though your eyes are watering simply due to the cold.

"You didn't have to do that," you say softly. 

"I know," he replies with a warm smile. "But I wanted to."

"Here, I have an extra shovel," you tell him as you march past him to go grab the tool propped up against the side of the house. "I'll help you finish — we'll be done in no time."

Indeed, with the two of you shoveling — and Jihoon having already done the brunt of the workload — the driveway is clear within fifteen minutes.

"Please, come inside and warm up," you say to him as you put the shovels away. "I insist."

He pauses for a moment, about to politely decline — but he is quite cold.

"Okay," he nods in agreement. 

He follows you through the front door, removing his shoes right away as not to track snow into your home and quickly discarding his several layers of outerwear now that he is in the warmth of inside.

"It's very cozy in here," he compliments you as he takes a look around. "I like it."

"Thank you!" you chime. "I do too."

You don your nearby slippers and head into the kitchen. "I'm going to heat up some leftover soup from the fridge — minestrone that I made the other night. Would you like some?"

"That sounds delightful," he replies. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until right this moment. 

You reheat the minestrone and dish up you and Jihoon each a big, steaming bowl.

"Wine?" you offer after you serve him, picking a bottle of cabernet up off the counter. You had been saving it for something special, and this seems like just the occasion.

"I'm okay, thank you," he declines, waving his hand. Without thinking, he adds "Maybe another time."

"Okay, but I'm holding you to that," you wink as you fetch the corkscrew from the drawer, opening the bottle and pouring yourself a glass.

"This is delicious," Jihoon says between slurping down spoonfuls of the thick, hearty soup. "You are an excellent cook."

"Thank you, I try my best," you reply humbly.

"Well you're doing a great job."

The room falls quiet as you both inhale your meals, but the lull in conversation feels perfectly comfortable. You each have seconds, polishing off the remainder of your big batch of soup; you also decide to pour yourself a second glass of wine as well — just a small one, you think to yourself. 

"Tell me about Seattle," you say as you take the empty dishes and place them in the sink. You look over to Jihoon as you start scrubbing the bowls and spoons with a soapy sponge. "I barely remember it since I was so young when I went, all I remember it feeling huge and magical."

"I don't know about magical," he smiles. "But it's definitely huge and busy and filled with people. Basically, the complete opposite of here."

"I want to go back sometime — and see it not through the eyes of a child," you chuckle. "I've seen photos, the skyline is just so beautiful."

"I suppose it is," he says wistfully. "But not as beautiful as it is up here, if you ask me."

"I think beauty can come in all shapes and forms," you remark, rinsing the bowls and drying them with a towel. You rejoin Jihoon at the kitchen table. "They're both beautiful in their own ways, if you ask me."

He smiles softly. "I suppose that's true."

The question that has been lingering at the back of your mind since you first met him pops into your head again. You weren't sure if you should ask before, since you barely knew the guy — but he did call you his friend, after all.

"What made you leave the hustle and bustle of the big city to move out here — practically the middle of nowhere?" you ask gently. He seems to tense up, a somber expression washing over his face.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want," you quickly backpedal, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he shakes his head.

"No, it's alright," he responds with a sigh, staring down at his folded hands atop the table. "It's just… a lot. But to make a long story short, I was engaged. I had proposed to my girlfriend — we had been dating since high school, and it was the only relationship I've ever been in. I didn't know anything else, and I thought I was happy. But as we started to plan for the wedding, I came to realize I just… wasn't happy." 

He shifts his gaze out your window, staring off into the distance pensively. 

"I think I was too young and naïve to know it before that point," he continues. "But it was almost like a revelation: one day I woke up and realized I was putting a lot more into the relationship than she was. I think she did love me, to a degree. But I knew then that if I went through with the marriage, I would end up regretting it. So as scared as I was to do it, I ended things. It went just about as poorly as it possibly could have," he laughs somberly. "She was furious. I don't think it even was about the relationship ending, really — she ended up moving on almost immediately, it seemed. But I think it was about the fact that things were no longer going her way. She told everyone — her family, all of our friends — that I ruined her life. And to be fair, I suppose I kind of did. But in retrospect, I know it wouldn't have lasted long anyway, so I'm glad I saved myself that grief. But when nearly everybody walks out of your life in the blink of an eye… I just didn't know what to do. I had no friends left. My family is still around, but they've made it loud and clear that they think I made a huge mistake. I was sick to my stomach to even go outside and walk around the city that I loved anymore, because everything reminded me of her. So I left. I searched around for the most remote location I could possibly find — and that's how I ended up here. I never had even heard of Carats Ridge, but that was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to get away and forget any of this ever happened. And I do love it here, really — I don't regret moving here at all. But although I left all the physical reminders of my ex behind, I guess I still couldn't escape the emotional damage that was done. "

The room sits still and silent for a moment as he finishes, the heaviness lingering in the air. You take a deep breath, stopping yourself before you start tearing up again.

"I'm so sorry, Jihoon," you finally speak softly. "That's all so awful."

"Yeah," he sighs, shaking his head wistfully. "That all happened almost a year ago now. It's embarrassing that it's still affecting me this much, but truth be told I'm not completely over it yet. But I try my best not to let myself dwell on it anymore."

"That's a huge, life-changing thing that happened to you," you reassure him. "It's okay to not be completely over it. You know what they say — healing isn't linear."

"You're certainly right about that," he replies, a soft smile appearing on face. "Anyway, I'm sorry to dump all that on you, but thank you for listening to me."

The way he says it is so gentle, so grateful — it seems as if you're the first person to properly listen to him in a very long time. And given everything he just told you, you suspect that very well might be true. It nearly breaks your heart.

"Hey, I'm always here if you need someone to talk to," you respond, smiling at him warmly. "Seriously — I mean it."

"Thanks, y/n," he glows warmly back at you. "I really appreciate that." 

Glancing out the window again, Jihoon realizes just how dark it is.

"Wow, it's gotten late," he remarks as he peeks at his watch. "I should get out of your hair now."

Stay, you want to tell him. Stay as long as you want.

"Thanks again for shoveling my driveway. And being my taxi today," you say instead. And for keeping me company, you think as well.

"Anytime — I'm happy to help," he nods.

You walk him to the front door, opening it for him after he's bundled himself back up his coat and boots. 

"Goodnight," you say warmly as he brushes past you. He turns to look at you, and for just a split second his face lingers before yours — so incredibly close it makes your stomach turn to jelly. 

"Goodnight," he speaks softly, his dark eyes fixed intimately on yours for just a moment — then he goes. 

You shut the door, but peek out the front window to watch as he strolls back to his truck. As he starts backing out the driveway, he catches your eye. You're a bit embarrassed that he saw you watching him, but he gives you a friendly wave. You wave back, and he drives off into the night.

8

You're zoned out stocking soup cans on the Food Mart shelves when you register somebody walking toward you out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head, coming back to Earth, ready to assist the customer — but you smile when you realize who it is.

"Well, hey there!" you say brightly.

"Hi, y/n," Jihoon replies with a warm grin. He's pushing an empty cart, seemingly just arriving at the store. "I was hoping you were working today."

"Yep, here I am," you say, trying not to turn completely flustered. "It's been a busy day today — everyone's trying to get their groceries early before the big snowstorm rolls in tomorrow night."

"Yeah, I heard about that," he replies. "Do you really think we're going to get ten inches of snow?"

"We might," you shrug. "It's pretty rare that we get that much all at once, but it does happen every once in a blue moon."

"Wow," he muses. "Well I guess we'll just have to wait and see, then. Anyway, speaking of tomorrow night, I had a question for you."

"Oh! Sure, what is it?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner. We can do it early — so you can get home before the storm starts."

A big grin creeps across your face. "I'd love that," you gush excitedly. 

"Excellent," he grins back. "How do you feel about steak?"

"Steak sounds wonderful!"

"Perfect, I'll pick all the ingredients up while I'm here. Let's say, 4:00pm tomorrow?"

"I'll be there at 4 o'clock sharp," you beam.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, y/n."

—

Tiny flecks of snow begin to hit your windshield as you turn onto the steep incline of Hemlock Hill Drive. 

"Guess the snow's coming in early," you mumble to yourself as you pull up to Jihoon's house. You park and make your way to his front door. You're about to knock when it swings open before you.

"Welcome," Jihoon says with a smile as he beckons you in. He's wearing a plain, black apron, slightly messied with stray splatters of sauce. "Come in, it's cold out."

"Looks like the storm might be coming in sooner than expected," you say, brushing the dusting of white flakes off your coat before you step inside.

"Sure looks like it."

As you remove your outerwear, you take in the interior of Jihoon's house for the first time. It looks like the inside of a cabin, with perfectly cozy decor arranged neatly in the tidy space. A large stereo system with a turntable sits in the living room, playing upbeat old-timey swing music at a moderate volume from its speakers.

"It's lovely in here!" you tell him cheerfully. 

"Thank you, but I can't take all the credit. Most of the furniture came with the house," he explains. "It was all rather dusty, but with a bit of effort I got everything cleaned up and good as new, if I do say so myself."

"Wow. So much for the past occupant being an evil witch," you say with a laugh. "Not that I ever really believed any of that. But I'm sure most people in town would be expecting a big cauldron or pentagrams or whatever."

"Can confirm — not a single pentagram found in this house," he grins. "Please, have a seat — dinner is almost ready." As you walk through the house you are hit with the enticing aroma of steak; he leads you to a small table in the dining room, pulling a chair out for you before zipping back into the kitchen to check on the meat. The table is set, covered in a delicate linen tablecloth intricately embroidered with farmhouse scenery.

A couple minutes later he returns, now apron-free, carrying two fine porcelain plates — each bearing hearty roasted potatoes, tender-looking asparagus, and a thick, sizzling filet mignon. 

"Wow, this looks amazing!" you tell him as he sets the first plate before you. 

"One more thing…"

He returns to the kitchen, emerging again moments later with a bottle of expensive-looking cabernet sauvignon and two crystal wine glasses.

"I wasn't sure what else you liked, but I saw you were drinking a cabernet the other night, so I figured this would be a safe bet," he tells you as he opens the bottle with a corkscrew and pours you a glass.

"No, this is perfect," you glow at him.

He sits across from you, the humble size of the table making his closeness feel even more intimate.

"I'd say bon appétit, but that feels way too fancy for me to be saying," he chuckles lightheartedly.

"Are you kidding? This could be a Michelin star meal as far as I'm concerned," you praise. 

You cut into the filet mignon, the tender, juicy meat slicing with ease. Your eyes widen as you take the first bite.

"Pardon my French, but holy shit," you mumble through a mouthful of steak, eyes widening with delight as the delicious flavor floods your mouth. "This is the best steak I've ever had."

"I'm glad you like it," he replies warmly. "My grandmother taught me how to cook from a young age. All this stuff is hers, actually — the dishes, the tablecloth. I've pretty much never used it," he laughs. "Only on special occasions."

"And I'm a special occasion?" you ask playfully as you take a sip of the wine. It's deliciously dry — full-bodied with rich flavor. 

"Of course," he answers matter-of-factly, smiling softly as he looks you in the eyes. Between that and the wine, you feel a rush of heat starting to fill your cheeks.

The delicious meal is quickly devoured — but you remain at the table together long after, conversation and laughter filling the room as the both of you continue to sip at the wine. You don't know how long you and Jihoon have been sitting here talking — it's surely been well over an hour now, but it doesn't feel like it in the slightest.

"More wine?" he asks, cheeks pink and glowing from the alcohol as he picks up the bottle. "Bottle's just about empty, we can finish it up."

"Yes please," you smile at him, the wine also making you a bit giddy.

"Would you like to sit on the couch?" Jihoon asks. "I can start up the fireplace."

"That sounds perfect."

Migrating to the living room, he stops by the stereo system, quickly replacing the finished record with a new vinyl. Softer jazz music begins to play from its speakers as he grabs a couple logs of firewood and sets them in the fireplace, igniting the hearth with a lighter. A soft orange glow fills the room as the fire comes to life, immediately warming up the room.

You're about to sit down on the couch when you notice the seat is already occupied with a large round, black-and-white ball of fur.

"I told you!!" you exclaim. Jihoon — still kneeling before the fireplace — pokes his head up.

"Hm?" 

You reach down to pet the fluffy creature; he wakes up, lifting his big round head and making a brrrrrrp sound.

"I told you you had a cat now!" you grin, patting the animal softly. 

"Oh god, he's not supposed to be on the couch," Jihoon grumbles. "No, still not my cat. I only let him in because of the snowstorm tonight — he's going right back outside as soon as the snow clears."

He walks over to the couch, making a shooing motion to the cat, but the cat just looks at him. 

"C'mon, get off."

"Oh, leave him be. Look how comfy he is!" you say, scratching his furry ears. "He's made himself right at home. Besides, the couch is big enough for all of us."

"Alright, fine," Jihoon concedes. He points his finger at the cat. "But don't get used to this."

With the cat taking up one end of the couch, you and Jihoon take a seat on the other side. There's plenty of room on the couch — it's wide enough for you to each have your own cushion and sit comfortably, but as he takes the end seat you scoot in a little closer to him. He doesn't seem to mind, taking a sip of his wine as he gazes over at you, the flickering flames of the fire illuminated in his eyes. You flash back to that night at the Yuletide fest, sitting by the bonfire, Jihoon at your side. He's even closer now — making your heart beat excitedly in your chest.

"Thanks again for the delicious meal," you say, taking a sip of your wine. "You really went all out."

"You're welcome," he smiles. "I haven't had anyone to cook for in a long time, so this was a real treat."

Silence follows for a few moments. Basking in the warmth of the fire together, you finish your wine; you delicately twirl the stem between your fingers as you stare at the crystalline design of the cup, watching it sparkle in the flames' light. Jihoon also finishes his drink, extending his hand and offering to take your now-empty glass.

"Here," he says, taking the glasses and setting them atop the coffee table. Leaning back into the couch, he turns to look at you again, unknown words sitting upon his lips, waiting to be spoken. You wait, eyes locked with his, suspended in an intimate moment of time; he licks his lips, taking a deep breath.

"I—" he starts, the flicker of his eyes to your lips not going unnoticed. You shift your weight, leaning slightly into him, the side of your thigh pressing gently into his. 

"I just wanted to say, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," he tells you, his face tinged with a flushed shade of pink. 

"Me too," you reply softly, leaning in closer still. The romantic sounds of the jazz album fill the air around you, embellished by the pleasant crackling of the firelogs from the hearth. Jihoon seems anxious — but he decides he can't wait a moment longer.

"Can I kiss you?"

It comes out as barely more than a whisper. His eyes stare into yours expectantly, waiting nervously for a response. You answer with a smile, shining brightly from ear to ear as you nod eagerly. His pupils dilate with excitement, a huge grin spreading across his cheeks. Slowly he leans in, his lips colliding with yours — an eruption of flutters rippling through your body as he kisses you. He tugs at your lips, slow and gentle and loving, savoring every moment of kissing you for the very first time. Your hand slides onto his lap, gripping his thigh as you kiss him back fervently, the darkly sweet flavor of the wine lingering on his mouth as you taste him. His hand brushes against your cheek as he cradles your face in his palm, rubbing your cheekbone tenderly with his thumb. You drag your fingers up his thigh, making him squirm slightly in his seat; you rest your hand upon his waist, grasping at his body through the thick knitting of his sweater. His hand gradually slips to the back of your neck, holding you tightly against him as he kisses you with a passion desperate and urgent. You cling to him as he pulls you into his arms, feverously running your hands over his body as his hands wander — committing every curve of your body to memory. Finally, your lips part, breaking for air; he kisses down your jaw to your neck, pressing his lips softly into the delicate skin, making you gasp with pleasure.

"You're even more perfect than I imagined," he mutters between kisses. He begins to suck at the skin lightly, causing you to let out a soft moan. His hands on your waist suddenly grasp tightly at your flesh, pulling you up and over onto his lap. You hold his face in your hands as you straddle him, kissing him on the lips again. He wraps his arms around your torso, pressing your body into his as he kisses you and kisses you — never wanting to leave this moment. 

The strain in his pants grows increasingly obvious as you make out; you grind your hips against his as you bite at his lower lip, causing him to groan into your mouth in desperation as your core presses into his burgeoning erection.

"Oh my god," he murmurs, grabbing your ass as he presses you into him further. You feel his clothed cock throb beneath his jeans, the thick mass pulsing against your equally aching clit. You've never been so certain of anything as much as you are certain that you need him — and you need him now.

Reaching down, you tug at the button of his pants, looking at him to make sure this is okay — but his pleading eyes staring up at you tell you he wants this just as much as you do. You tug the button open, slowly pulling the zipper down; a simple pair of white underwear comes into view, doing nothing to hide the massive bulge of his stiff cock beneath the fabric. You look down at it as you run your fingertips over it lightly; Jihoon inhales sharply at the sensation, his body tensing up beneath you. You lift your eyes to his face again, finding him staring at you as if he's never desired anything more. You go to stand up; Jihoon grasps at your hands, not wanting you to leave for even a moment — but when he sees you reaching to unfasten your pants he gives you a lazy grin, drunk off wine and lust. You slip your pants off, letting them fall to the floor and stepping free of them. Jihoon reaches for your hips with both hands, slipping his fingers under the delicate fabric of your panties and pulling them down in one swift motion. Discarding those to the ground as well, you sit back onto your knees, straddling his lap as he reaches for his own underwear. He tugs the waistband down, revealing a cock so thick it makes your clit pulse excitedly. You wrap your hand around its width, giving him a few slow strokes. His eyes start to roll back — his pleasure only exacerbated when you drag his tip through your drenched folds.

"Ohhh," he moans as he stares at your cunt. "Fuck you're so wet."

"I want you so bad," you whisper, stroking your clit with the head a few more times as you stare down at him desperately.

"I want you too," he mutters in a low voice, grasping at your hips. You position his tip at your entrance, slowly lowering your cunt onto his cock. Jihoon's mouth drops open, letting out another moan as your walls squeeze tight around his size. You whimper as you bottom out — the entirety of his cock now inside you. You kiss him with urgent need, his hands slipping under your sweater, tantalizingly cold against your warm skin. Slowly, you lift yourself up, dragging your pussy up his length til it's almost all the way off — then dropping again, his cock sliding back into you and making you feel deliciously full.

"Oh my god," you groan, slumping over onto him as your body relaxes with pleasure. He wraps his arms around your torso, squeezing you tight against him as you begin to ride him. The room fills with a symphony of moans as he fucks his cock into you, thrusting up into you slowly but with the perfect amount of intensity. 

“Fuck,” you cry as his pace starts to quicken. “That feels so good…”

“You feel amazing, baby,” he mutters into your ear. You lift your head slightly, laying your forehead against his, gazing into his dark eyes as he stares up at you — both of you enamored and infatuated and very nearly on the brink of orgasm. 

“Jihoon,” you whine, your moans growing louder and longer.

“You sound so pretty like this,” he mumbles, his voice low and grovelly as the breaths of his words hit your lips. “Gonna cum soon, baby.” 

“Me too,” your voice quivers. You press another long kiss into his lips; his hips begin to jerk into you as his body tenses, the overstimulation and the pressure against your clit sending you over the edge. You cry out as your orgasm rushes through you, powerful surges of ecstasy rolling through your body as your core burns white-hot with pleasure. Your walls constrict around his painfully-hard cock as you cum, driving him straight into climax too — you feel him release into you, hot bursts of cum shooting deliciously into your cunt. He fills you up, trickles of white leaking from your pussy all over his cock as he gives you a few final thrusts. Finally, aside from the deep heaving breaths of your chests, both of your bodies still. You collapse onto him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. 

“Wow,” you sigh, laying atop Jihoon as he gently rubs his hands over your back.

“Yeah,” he replies breathily. “I agree.”

Gathering the energy to sit back up, you lift your head; a huge, giddy grin is plastered across Jihoon’s reddened cheeks. You giggle, pressing your nose into his, staring fondly into his eyes. 

“Stay here,” he murmurs softly, giving you a peck on the lips. He fetches a towel and gets you all cleaned up, even lending you a pair of oversized sweatpants so you can be comfortable. You cuddle up on the couch again, entangled in each others’ arms underneath a thick, cozy blanket. 

“Do you think we’re snowed in yet?” you ask softly as you rest your head upon his chest.

“Oh, yeah. We are absolutely snowed in,” he replies with a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, I know you were supposed to be out of here before then — but I must admit you are very distracting.”

“Don’t apologize,” you grin. “Guess you’re stuck with me for the night, then.”

“Guess so,” he smiles, kissing the top of your head tenderly. “But I don’t mind that one bit.”

9

You wake the next morning to the bright glare of the rising sun reflecting off the deluge of snow piled high outside the house.

Sitting up and peering around the room, you realize you’re still in Jihoon’s house — his side of the bed empty beside you. You get up, locating one of his sweatshirts and tossing it on as you walk out into his living room. Out the front window, you can see the top of his beanie-clad head as he is busy shoveling your car out of possibly the most snow you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Donning your coat and boots, you traipse out the front door. The sidewalk from the door to the driveway has a narrow pathway shoveled through the solid twelve inches of snow resting peacefully upon the ground.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this,” you call to him as you saunter over toward him. He looks up, giving you a wave as he grins at you.

“Why?” he inquires.

“Because I’m gonna have to start paying you for doing all this manual labor for me,” you grin back.

“Nope,” he replies, shaking his head. “My services are free.”

“Because you like me?” you tease.

“Yes,” he smiles at you softly. “Because I like you a lot.”

“Let me help you at least—” 

“No need,” he says with a dismissive wave. “I’m almost done. You should go back inside, it’s too cold out here. I’ll be right in.”

“Okay, fine,” you pretend to complain, but you smile back at him. As he turns to finish the last bit of shoveling, you reach down and collect a handful of snow. It’s frigid against your bare palms, but you pack it into a solid sphere anyway and chuck it at Jihoon. It hits him square in the back; he turns, giving you a quizzical look.

“Did you just throw a snowball at me?” 

You respond by throwing another snowball, this time hitting him in the arm. He chuckles, rolling his eyes and returning to shoveling. You lob another one — hitting him in the butt this time. 

“Oops, sorry!” you shout. “That’s not where I was aiming, I swear.”

“Sure it wasn’t,” he laughs.

“C’mon, throw one back!”

He ignores you, removing the last bit of snow from around your car’s back tire. You throw another one, hitting him right in the butt again.

“Okay, that one was on purpose.”

“It sure was,” you reply proudly. “Come onnnn, you’re just gonna stand there and take this?”

He turns, giving you a shrug.

“Fine,” he says as he gathers a small handful of snow off the trunk of your car, barely packing it and tossing it at you. It falls apart midair, showering you in a light dusting of snow. 

“That’s it?” you taunt. “Haven’t you ever been in a snowball fight?”

“Sure, when I was a kid.”

You throw another ball at his chest. “Throw one back or I’m gonna stuff snow down your coat,” you grin mischievously, grabbing a handful and walking toward him.

“Hey!” he shouts, backing away. He grabs a big chunk of snow and lobs it at you, hitting you in the arm. “There! I did it. Happy now?”

“Yes,” you say, chucking more snow in his direction as you continue toward him. His eyes widen as he tries to run, but you’re quicker; you fling your arms around him, planting a big kiss on his cold cheek. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad—” you start, but you stumble and fall, pulling Jihoon to the ground with you.

“I’m sorry!!” you shout apologetically as you both fall into the deep pile of snow. “I didn’t mean to do that!” 

You lift your head to see Jihoon laying beside you, laughing heartily.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” he teases, pulling you off the ground with him as he stands back up.

Back inside again, Jihoon makes a fresh pot of coffee. You cuddle up together on the couch once more, steaming mugs in hand as you warm yourselves up underneath the blanket. The cat, still inside, is curled up in a ball on the floor, napping peacefully before the blazing fireplace.

“Gotta be honest,” Jihoon tells you as you snuggle in close. “This was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”

“Which part?” you ask cheekily. 

“All of it,” he answers matter-of-factly. Smiling shyly, he adds, “Though, the sex was pretty mind-blowing, I must admit.”

“Yeah, it was,” you giggle, laying your head on his shoulder. “Honestly, me too, though. I really like hanging out with you, we should keep doing it.”

Jihoon doesn’t reply. Lifting your head up, you see his eyes starting to water. He quickly blinks the tears away.  

“I just… really appreciate you spending so much time with me. So thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for spending time with you, silly,” you say to him softly. “That’s what friends are for.”

The tears return to his eyes, this time escaping and trickling down his cheeks.

"I was starting to wonder if coming to this town was a mistake,” he tells you, patting his damp face with his sleeve. “After everything that happened, all I wanted was to be alone — but I had no idea how lonely I’d get. But then one day, this beautiful girl hit me with a cart of vegetables in the Food Mart,” he laughs. “And it was one of the best things that ever happened to me."

It’s your turn to start crying. 

“Oh god, what did I say?” he asks with genuine concern. 

“No no, you’re fine,” you reply, chuckling through your tears. “That’s just the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.” You sit up, turning to look at Jihoon. “I’ve never met anyone like you, you know. I’ve only been in a few relationships, but every guy I’ve ever dated barely gave me the time of day. And I thought that was normal — I thought I was just a silly romantic whose expectations were way too high. But then one day you shoveled my entire driveway. I didn’t even ask you to do that, you just did. That was the first time in my life I’ve ever felt truly loved.”

Jihoon wraps his arm around you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t have much to offer,” he tells you, gazing at you softly. “But if you’ll allow me, I’d love to keep loving you.”

You smile, staring back at him fondly.

“That’s all I could ever need and more.”

EPILOGUE

“Cat! Dinner!”

Jihoon wanders into the living room, carrying a bowl of Fancy Feast. The fluffy critter appears, tail perked up in the air as he trots excitedly to his food spot.

“There you are,” Jihoon says as he sets the food down, petting the cat as he brushes past and starts eating right away.

You look up from your book, staring at him from across the room.

“You’ve gotta name that damn cat.”

Jihoon turns his head to you. 

“What?”

“You need to name him. You can’t just keep calling him ‘cat’.”

“Why not?” he asks plainly, coming to join you on the couch. 

“What do you mean ‘why not’??” you ask incredulously.

“He’s a stray. If I name him that makes him my cat.”

“Jihoon. Look at him.” You gesture across the room to the cat, finished eating already, as he curls up on the fleece blanket Jihoon laid out for him. “He already is your cat.” 

“Alright, fine,” he replies, waving his hand at you. “You can name him if you want.” 

“Yay!” you say excitedly, taking it as a win. “Okay, how about… Hm, what do you think of Sylvester?”

Jihoon makes a face. “Why ‘Sylvester’?”

“Like from Looney Tunes! You know, the black and white cartoon cat?”

“That sounds like an old man name,” he frowns.

“Okay, fine. What about Oreo?”

He shakes his head. “Too basic.”

“Checkers, then.”

“That’s too silly for him,” he declines.

“For it ‘not being your cat’ you sure have some opinions on his name,” you tease. “You have any ideas, then?”

Jihoon looks at the cat for a moment, then looks back to you.

“Rutabaga.”

“What? That’s not black and white!” 

“No,” Jihoon smiles. “But the first time I met you you dropped rutabagas all over the floor.”

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes. “And why exactly do you want to name your cat after my embarrassing blunder?”

He shrugs, leaning over to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Because it reminds me of you.”

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