#countdown2christmas

STEP ONE: MAKE SOMETHING THAT FEELS LIKE HOME

DAY 3: SONG OF BARDS AND BERRIES | @astrae4

SYNOPSIS: In a small market town, you’re just the fruit seller’s daughter until Sungho, a wandering bard, starts writing songs across from your stall. When you accidentally help him finish a lyric, he keeps coming back—asking for your thoughts, your voice, and slowly, a place in your quiet life. Between your daily work and his restless travels, the two of you form an unexpected connection, crafting songs together as a gentle romance begins to bloom.

pairing. park sungho x reader, writing a song

genre. Romance, medieval era fiction, fluff, slight angst, soft yearning, and as slow burn as 4k words can get me…

warnings. Reader has a lot of internal problems with what she wants vs what’s realistic to her.

published. 3 December, 2025. WC. 3.9k

DAY 4: THE GIFT YOU FORGOT YOU WERE | @hollyoongs

SYNOPSIS: As Jaehyun’s birthday arrives, you prepare something that is meant to lift his spirits during a time when everything has dimmed his usual brightness. What was meant to be a simple celebration quietly unfolds into a moment of honesty, comfort, and warmth, where both learn how much love can heal when words fall short.

pairing. jaehyun x reader, making handmade gifts

genre. established relationship, angst, and finishing FLUFF

warnings. Emotional distress, depictions of burnout and exhaustion, mentions of online hate, cyberbullying, and negative comment

published. 4 December, 2025. WC. 2.3k

DAY 5: SNOW-KISSED | @taestulipss

SYNOPSIS: You haven’t spoken to your best friend in weeks—not since that disastrous night. But when you find yourself stranded at the dorms for the holidays, and fate pushes you together once more—a Christmas miracle might just be in tow.

pairing. taesan x reader, building a pillow fort

genre. fluff, best friends to lovers

warnings. jealousy, arguments

published. 5 December, 2025. WC. 3.8k

DAY 6: WARM SUGAR | @gyurilla

SYNOPSIS: you and riwoo spend the afternoon baking gingerbread houses while "Snow Flower' plays softly in the background. the room is warm, the air smells like sugar, and everything feels calm..

pairing. riwoo x reader, making gingerbread houses

genre. fluff, established relationship

warnings. none

published. 6 December, 2025. WC. 3.2k

DAY 7: ENTANGLED WITH LIGHTS (& LOVE) | @ihankaji

SYNOPSIS: After finding out that you’ve never decorated a Christmas tree before, Woonhak was determined to change that. Whether it turns out to be the most perfect picture of a holiday moment or a tangled mess of lights and ornaments, his goal was to make it an experience you’d never forget. And much to his luck, the moment becomes chaotic, heartwarming, and maybe just a little romantic.

pairing. woonhak x reader, decorating the tree

genre. established relationship, fluff, romance

warnings. banter ( sungho appearance for plot build up kinda! ), ments. of overthinking / worries

published. 7 December, 2025. WC. 3.8k

DAY 8: WARM MUGS | @moesthinking

SYNOPSIS: You and Leehan have been in a healthy relationship since his late trainee days, but with a healthy relationship comes hardships to overcome. Leehan is a busy man with a demanding schedule and constant travel, and he unfortunately forgets to give you the attention you deserve. Once he returns home, you decide to solve your problems over hot chocolate and Christmas cheer.

pairing. leehan x reader , making hot cocoa

genre. fluff , established lovers , sprinkle of angst

warnings. relationship problems, overall no warnings

published. 8 December, 2025. WC. 2.5k

STEP TWO: GIVE WHAT YOU CAN’T WRAP

DAY 11: CAN WE ADDRESS THE MISTLETOE IN THE ROOM? | @tobiotaesan

SYNOPSIS: Last year, Yn gave her heart to Jaehyun. But he gave it back to her. And this year, well...Jaehyun decides to give his to her.

pairing. jaehyun x reader, helping at a charity event

genre. fluff, very tiny itty bitty angst, best friends to almost lovers to lovers

warnings. bickering (mostly sanhakhwe), kissing

published. 11 December, 2025. WC. 2.5k

DAY 12: STUDY GUIDE TO MY HEART | @starriniqhts

SYNOPSIS: juggling straight A’s along with your student job as a peer tutor is most certainly not for the weak… and this semester’s exams might really do you in. until a certain someone enters your life with a desperate plea for help. perhaps this year’s holiday season will be more than just cold libraries and studies, but instead warmer with him by your side.

pairing. riwoo x reader, giving each other confidence

genre. college!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, sickfic for a hot minute, angst if u squint real hard

warnings. final exams !!, general academic anxiety, reader falls ill (general cold nth serious), very sweet one may get toothaches

published. 12 December, 2025. WC. 3.3k

DAY 13: TIME OF OUR LIFE! | @riuscheri

SYNOPSIS: Dating your band’s electric guitarist and producer while being in the midst of preparing for the next album pretty much equals to hectic days and less free time. On the bright side, Christmas is around the corner, which gives you the perfect excuse to drag Taesan out of the producer chair and get him to learn the one instrument you’ve been forcing wanting him to learn!

pairing. taesan x reader, teaching the other a music instrument

genre. fluff, established lovers, electric guitarist x bassist

warnings. yn’s a little freaky for taesan, kisses

published. 13 December, 2025. WC. 2.5k

DAY 14: BLOCKED BY A SNOWSTORM, THE HEART SPEAKS THE TRUTH | @astrae4

SYNOPSIS: Snowed in together in December after a sudden power outage, you and your neighbor Leehan spend the night wrapped in blankets, candlelight, and the kind of closeness that’s been building for years. With no present to give, Leehan finally confesses that he didn’t bring a gift because he couldn’t wrap what he wanted to give—his heart, cliché and all. In the quiet pause of a winter night, you realize that the best gifts aren’t found under the tree. Sometimes, they’re found in the truth you’ve both been too afraid to say.

pairing. leehan x reader, confessing your feelings

genre. romance, slice of life, comedy, friends to lovers, neighbour/boy next door au

warnings. kiss + super big snowstorm

published. 14 December, 2025. WC. 3.7k

DAY 15: I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS (IF ONLY IN MY DREAMS) | @wooahoe

SYNOPSIS: The past few weeks were spent stealing kisses under lamplight, snow-covered streets and midnight escapades, but you both knew it wouldn’t last forever. At least you could pretend, at least for a little while, until he has to leave.

pairing. woonhak x reader, staying up to listen

genre. so much angst not enough comfort, established relationship

warnings. angst. so much fucking angst. hopefully i write comfort we’ll see. pda, kissing, perhaps a few tears idk it’ll work out i think

published. 15 December, 2025. WC. 3k

DAY 16: THE WARMTH OF YOU | @tsanho

SYNOPSIS: if love was a feeling, it would be the feeling of sungho’s gaze on you as you study, his fingers tapping the desk softly as he hums along to your explanations of concepts he never knew existed. if love was a feeling, it would be the feeling of sungho’s home cooked meals filling the air of your shared apartment as he makes sure you’re not just living off of ramen and coffee until the end of the semester. and if love was a feeling, it would most definitely be the feeling of sungho consoling you, taking care of you without a word as he holds you close and lets your tears stain his shirt.

pairing. sungho x reader, acts of service

genre. fluff, minor angst but it gets resolved, established relationship (bf/gf)

warnings. some crying i suppose… idk how to tag sfw stuff lowkey

published. 16 December, 2025. WC. 2.5k

STEP THREE: FIND YOUR SPARK UNDER THE LIGHTS

DAY 19: STAR-ALIGNED | @yunextdoor

SYNOPSIS: It’s Christmas Eve. During that time you’d usually be with your relatives—having dinner as wholesome speech and the warmth of family dance in the air around you. However, this year, you have something planned. Something that requires you to leave dinner halfway through and make your way to your best friend’s place. More specifically, the rooftop of the building where he lives. What could possibly happen under the pitch black sky, where all the stars have aligned?

pairing. woonhak x reader, rooftop stargazing

genre. fluff, romance, and best friends to ???

warnings. swearing (if you squint)

published. 19 December, 2025. WC. 4k

DAY 20: DECEMBER LIGHTS & TENDER NIGHTS | @mirisss

SYNOPSIS: A snowy night. Twinkling lights. Laughter that makes your heart skip a beat. Jaehyun and (Y/n) thought a simple stroll through the Christmas market would be just that… simple. But some moments, some sparks, are impossible to ignore.

pairing. jaehyun x reader, mistletoe

genre. fluff and friends to lovers

warnings. none

published. 20 December, 2025. WC. 2k

DAY 21: UNDERNEATH THE TREE | @riumori

SYNOPSIS: Festive season is your favourite time of the year, listening to festive music and decorating the tree with your loved one, Riwoo. Not only is it your favourite time of the year because you get to spend time with one another, but most importantly because something always tends to go wrong.

pairing. riwoo x reader, caroling chaos at home

genre. fluff and crack

warnings. skinship and swearing

published. 21 December, 2025. WC. 2.5k

DAY 22: I HEART ICE SKATER(S) | @woongelaatin

SYNOPSIS: Sungho hates ice skating. He's not good at it either, but the moment he meets you, he's willing to try—even if he sucks at it. He wants to make you happy after all.

pairing. sungho x reader, ice rink

genre. Fluff, love at first sight, friends to lovers

warnings. none

published. 22 December, 2025. WC. 2.5k

DAY 23: JUST LET ME LOVE YOU | @htaesan

SYNOPSIS: Taesan had spent almost his entire life behind steel—swords, arrows, armour, and duty. He swore by his life to never remove the armour, but one winter night brought himself to stand before you without it. He faltered. Hesitated, more loyal to you than to the nation your father commanded, at the edge of a line he never meant to cross. And maybe—just maybe—the lingering scent of roasted chestnuts drifting through the cold air was the final push he needed to accept his princess’s love.

pairing. taesan x reader, holding hands at a christmas market

genre. angst(????), (a bit of) fluff, forbidden love, princess x knight/guard, joseon!era, slight age gap (1-2 years difference), mutual feelings but undefined relationship (pls help me define this.. Is it “unresolved romantic tension” or “mutual pining”?? IDK)

warnings. open ending

published. 23 December, 2025. WC. 3k

DAY 24: A WINTER’S GLOW | @lovehakie

SYNOPSIS: Snow falls softly over the city streets, turning every lamp, shop window, and riverside railing into something magical. You’re bundled up in scarves and Leehan’s warmth, sipping rich hot cocoa, laughing at his teasing, and stealing kisses under twinkling lights. From a secret silver bracelet to a perfectly timed mistletoe, every little moment feels like Christmas itself — sweet, cozy, and unforgettable. One night, one stroll, and one perfect Christmas kiss might just be the memory you carry all year.

pairing. leehan x reader, city light kiss

genre. fluff, est. relationship

warnings. light romantic content, long cozy kisses, playful teasing between partners, cold weather and snow, christmas traditions like hot cocoa and mistletoe, and heartwarming holiday fluff.

published. 24 December, 2025. WC. 2.6k

DAY 25: AFTERWORD FROM EVERYONE

SERIES TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @teddywonss @taerae-verse @bbangbies @voucearse @ruuroom @wensurr @custarzd @sunoo-mint-choco @leehanaholic @delirioastral @todorokiskitten @cherryblossomlovesblog @pluslandminun @ivxae @chwrrydolly @waldorfiles @dj-ami @shyeonie @soymilkenthusiasts @hraethy @woonbabie @tenshi-sama @fayepz

NETWORKS: @k-records @onedoornet

He lifted his head, and a slow cloud of breath escaped his lungs in a soft hitch. 

You didn’t look like the young princess he spent every single day guarding, following like a shadow, carrying the sword that was meant for you and you only. At least, not at first glance. 

Instead of the usual silks and hair ornaments, you wore a simple hanbok in muted winter colours: soft cream jeogori, pale rose chima (skirt), and a dark wool shawl wrapped around your shoulders—obviously borrowed from a palace maid on your way out. Nothing flashy. Nothing that screamed your status and bloodline. Nothing expensive enough to buy Taesan and his entire future bloodline’s souls. 

Tonight, your hair wasn’t pinned up the way etiquette deemed appropriate for a princess—no neat braid, no ceremonial ribbon. Instead, your hair fell loose around her shoulders, dark and soft, a waterfall flowing over the simple collar of your borrowed hanbok. 

It made you look younger than you already were, freer… almost like the version of you that Taesan barely got to see behind palace walls. 

Your voice wasn’t the one you used at court and in the palace, that cut through the stinging winter cold like the universe was personally at your command. It was gentle this time, maybe a bit shy, expectant. 

Like an ordinary girl.

If that word was even worthy of you.

Taesan bowed his head automatically. A habit. That quiet, instinctive movement that he never quite unlearned despite the absurd amount of times you told him he didn’t have to. 

Old routine from his old post. Or… not that old, honestly. 

He used to stand at the palace gates, stoic with the rest of the faceless line of elite guards who were supposed to be part of the background. Nobody important. That was before the crown prince, your older brother, had pulled him aside. Before the hushed orders that he seamlessly fell into. Before he started showing up everywhere you were. 

Pure coincidence, of course. 

At least according to every palace record ever. 

“Your Highness.”

You smiled. That alone was enough to knock the loyal guard off his feet. 

“You should call me by my name, Taesan,” you said.

That soft winter glow that bestowed upon your face—lightly flushed cheeks from the cold, black eyes bright with a mix of nerves and determination that he couldn't help but find deathly adorable—made Taesan’s heart ache. There were no words suited to describe it, except that he could only soothe it if he took his heart out and physically ripped it apart. 

The guard shook his head. “I could never, Your Highness, it’s…” he couldn’t finish. The word was stuck in his throat. Dangerous and too honest. Too close to the truth he wasn’t allowed to even imagine. 

Inappropriate, perhaps. 

No, he didn’t deserve to say your name. It hovered between his lips, tempting and impossible. A forbidden fruit. His tongue didn’t have the capability to savour the sweetness of your beautiful name—it was too lowly, too humble for someone like you. 

Even without the usual jewelled binyeo, there was something unmistakably regal about you. Chin up just at the right angle, posture a little too perfect, movements careful like you could never really switch off years of court etiquette. 

Taesan would never let himself utter your name. It was a kind of heaven no commoner like him could even dream of having. 

But he let himself slip out a compliment for you. 

“You look wonderful, Your Highness.”

The words came from his heart. It showed in his usually empty eyes—too warm, too soft—fonder than any guard should sound toward his princess. 

“Really?” you asked, that small smile forming on your lips. 

Taesan nodded earnestly. Maybe too keen. But he meant it. 

“Always,” he replied. 

Here, in the shadowy back corner of a warehouse, wrapped in a hanbok meant to make you invisible in the crowd, Taesan would’ve recognised you anywhere. Not because you looked royal, or because you were the most angelic young woman he’d laid his eyes on, but because you looked like you.

“Do you smell it?” you asked, the wind blowing softly at the strands of hair hanging free from the sides of your face. 

Your question pulled Taesan out of his trance. He blinked himself back into reality, though the sight of you in simple hanbok felt like a hazy dream anyway. 

“Um, smell what exactly, Your Highness?” 

The nearby festival had given them the wonderful mix of sweetened red beans, pumpkin juk, roasted chestnuts, cinnamon, honey, meat on smoky grills—the smell drifting steadily through the dense winter air. 

You shrugged. Not sure what the combination was made out of. 

“You reckon they sell yakgwa?” you asked. 

Taesan snorted. He didn’t mean to, but it was a dulcet sound that you had never heard come from him. His head dipped forward momentarily, the front of his black hair brushing his eyes. 

“Your Highness,” he said, the remnants of his amusement evident in the faint smile pulling at his lips, “you told me to bring you out to the festival so you could see for yourself how us commoners eat.” 

He was right. You had asked him to bring you around the winter festival, so you could experience it for yourself. Your father, the King, would never grant you the permission to stroll the streets as ordinarily as other people could. So, you resorted to this.

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes. “Right, right, you don’t have to remind me.”

A beat passed. 

But it felt like a really long one. 

The wind blew softly at your hair, the unrestrained locks loose against your face. There was a soft tint of pink across your cheeks, your breath forming puffs of cloud against your lips. 

Taesan wanted to chuckle along with your jest, to make things less stiff and awkward between him and you. 

Instead, he found himself extending his arm towards you, his smile fading.

“Should… we?”

The gesture itself was a leap that made his heart beat so fast, and his heart betrayed him because when you slipped your hand into the fold of his arm, he swore he almost died. 

Your fingers were light against his sleeve, a little unsure just like him. You didn’t look at him right away, but when you did, the ground seemed to shift under his feet. 

You smiled. Again. 

“Lead the way.”

Taesan swallowed so quickly, nervous, hoping that you wouldn’t notice. He nodded before his feet began stepping forward, careful. He guided you around the corner of the warehouse and into the streets. The festival glow spilled over the both of you as you walked closer—the orange glow of the lanterns bobbing against the dark blue sky, music and laughter weaved in a warm ribbon between stalls of hearty tidbits. 

The festival was comforting and warm against the cold winter night. 

Yet Taesan felt colder with every step. 

Not because of the breeze.

Not because the tip of his nose was about to freeze to death. 

Because your hand was still resting on his arm, fingers dainty but heavy against his sleeve. 

Too light yet too warm. 

Dangerous. 

His mind pulled an image together—how the palace would react when he was seen like this with you. A princess, carefree and all smiles, with a mere guard. A lad who was pretending for one implausible moment that he was allowed to walk beside his lady like an equal. 

He tried not to think about it. 

A moment later, he cleared his throat. 

“Your Highn–”

He stopped when, from the corner of his eyes, you shot him a warning look. 

Oh. 

Your fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of his sleeve. 

“What was that?” you said, eyes narrowing a bit. “Try again.”

A breath escaped Taesan, slowly curling into the night air. A secret of some sort. 

“Yes,” he said, a tad stiff. “I’ll… try. Next time.”

You raised a brow at him, a little wary, but you shrugged it off. 

The two of you then stepped into the warmth of the festival, the drifting glow of the lanterns bringing together the atmosphere you had always dreamed about. 

The change was immediate. Laughter, occasional banters, clinking bowls, sizzling batter on iron pans, running children weaving past adults with sticky candy in their hands—every sound wrapped around you with a strange kind of nostalgia. You’d never experienced this sort of ambience before, but somehow, it felt like this was home instead of the cold stone walls of the palace. 

A stringed haegeum played a melody from somewhere in the street, the notes gentle. 

You stopped walking. 

Naturally, Taesan did too. He turned towards you, unsure. 

But you weren’t looking at him anymore. 

The lanterns sparkled like bright stars in your eyes. Wider, gleaming more than any gemstone you wore in court. You were taking in everything with a kind of awe that painted itself across your face—unguarded and genuine. Nothing like Taesan had seen before. 

It made something deep inside his ribs twist.

“I have no words,” you breathed, finally, “it’s… beautiful.”

Taesan took a moment to gather himself and his words together, his eyes unable to pry themselves away from you. 

“Yeah.”

He didn’t know if you meant the lanterns, the streets, the people, the food… 

…or the freedom that you’d been trying to find. 

But he kept his question to himself. 

The way your hand still gripped his sleeve was enough of an answer. 

A stall keeper nearby called out, pulling your attention. He was loading a fresh batch of hotteok onto a metal tray, the steam white curls against the night. 

The wonderstruck look on your face made Taesan almost laugh. Almost. 

Instead, he asked quietly, “Do you want one?” He didn’t have to wait for your nod to know the answer. 

He carefully slipped away from you, his hand lingering on yours before he stepped towards the stall. He bought a few of the warm pancakes, steam still curling out of them. When he returned, he handed one to you, half-expecting you to take a small bite out of it. Proper, like how you took every ceremonial dish served back in the palace. 

But you didn’t. 

With the biggest, most excited grin he’s seen yet, you took a huge bite. 

Taesan choked on nothing. 

“Mmh—” You chewed slowly, the gooey syrup of cinnamon and nuts filling your senses. “My goodness…”

At the sight—you being the most adorable thing he’s ever seen—Taesan couldn’t stop laughing. It burst out of his chest, startled, soft and full of joy. He didn’t even know he was capable of sounding like that. 

He wasn’t sure he was even able to feel this way. 

You looked up at him, lips slightly glazed with the sweet syrup of the hotteok you were eating. The expression on your face—albeit endearing—was the most unprincess-like look he’d ever seen. 

It was perfect. 

“It’s good?” he guessed, voice as soft as his laugh earlier. 

You nodded rather vigorously. “Taesan, why don’t the kitchens serve something like this?”

Taesan chuckled again. “I’m sure they’d make some if you asked, Your Highn–”

He stopped, smile fading, when you looked at him pointedly. 

“Right. My… my point still stands.”

You snorted, grinning into your hotteok. 

In that moment—amidst the golden lanterns, the chatter, and the illusion that you could be an ordinary girl with your very much ordinary lover, enjoying the market—Taesan let himself believe, just for a lingering breath, that it would last. 

But then…

A metallic clang rang in the distance, sharp and delicate. 

Precise. 

Taesan froze. 

The festivity around you was now too loud. Too bright. Too crowded, easy to lose you in. 

His hand instinctively drifted to where his sword should’ve been. 

Shit. 

You noticed. Of course you did. 

“Taesan– hey, what’s–?”

He didn’t look away from the direction of the sound. “Stay behind me.”

“Taesan!”

“Please.”

You stopped. 

His voice wasn’t what you’d expected it to be. Not that of a guard. Not quite. 

It was urgent, too human. 

You stepped closer to him, your finger clutching the half-eaten hotteok tighter. 

And there it was again. The same clang, echoing a little too loudly in both your ears. 

A warning, perhaps. 

Taesan’s breath steadied. The look in his eyes betrayed his rather calm expression. 

“Taesan,” you called, voice barely above a whisper, “what’s happening?”

He didn’t answer, and just simply returned your gaze. 

But you could see it. His body tensed akin to a bowstring pulled too tight. He’d shifted just enough to block you fully from whatever that produced that sound earlier. His shoulder squared, his breath held. 

“Taesan,” you whispered once again.

“Don’t call my name like that.”

Your breath hitched halfway out of your throat. 

Before any of you could react further, a burst of laughter erupted from a group of children hurrying down the street, pushing past people as they waved long wooden sticks tied with bells. One had whacked his stick a little too enthusiastically against a pole, sending another sharp metallic ring through the crisp air. 

You winced slightly at the shrill sound, but your eyes were trained on Taesan’s expression.

He blinked. 

Once. Twice. 

His shoulders dropped a fraction, and you couldn’t hold back the grin that pulled on your face. 

The children scuttled past, chasing one another with their improvised toys, oblivious to the near heart attack they gave him. 

One of them—a girl with a missing tooth—grinned at Taesan before she ran off to join her friends. 

“Well,” you turned to him, the corner of your lips evidently twitching. “What was that again?”

Taesan exhaled the breath he’d been holding in. His frown softened, expression turning begrudgingly sheepish. 

“I was just being cautious,” he muttered, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

But you giggled regardless. The sound was soft but bright, and Taesan felt his ears warming under the winter cold.

“Come on then,” you said, fingers reaching out to tug lightly on his sleeve. “Let’s explore before someone else terrorizes you with… sticks.”

Taesan sighed, internally rolling his eyes. 

But he let you pull him along, silently praying the ground underneath his feet would swallow him whole. But your amusement wasn’t cruel. Not at all. If anything, it held a fondness he wasn’t sure he deserved.

The two of you wandered deeper into the festival. 

Deeper into the laughter and the warmth he wished he could share with you more often. 

YOU tried everything.

Everything. 

Spicy rice cakes that made you choke in a way that made Taesan’s eyes widen with worry. Roasted sweet potatoes that you took a bite of regardless of his warning that it’d burn your tongue because it was fresh off the grill. He watched with a soft smile, helping you fan your mouth with his hand. 

And the games—ugh, so annoying. 

Taesan tried to convince you the ring toss game was rigged. You didn’t believe him, of course. 

Now, after failing your first throw, you were starting to doubt your own insistence. 

He stood behind you, as loyal as ever, hands clasped behind his back. He was polite, but he stood close enough that you could feel the warmth from his chest radiating against your shoulder blades every time you moved. 

“You’re throwing it a bit too softly,” he murmured, leaning down just slightly. 

“I don’t want to hit someone with it,” you gritted back, eyes narrowed. 

Taesan simply laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Fine, fine. Throw it however you like.”

Hours passed without either of you realising. 

The festival shifted seamlessly from bright and bustling to something gentler. Quieter, like the night was finally wrapping around the remaining visitors like a fluffy blanket of dark blue and the soft golden glow of dying embers. Musicians switched to slower melodies as the crowd began to thin, and your breaths puffed in the air like white, velvety clouds. 

Taesan walked you to the top of the hill overlooking the town. 

From up here, the festival looked like tiny fireflies, scattered across earth. 

Your arms hugged the rabbit plush made out of leftover scraps of colourful hanbok material—the one that he won for you earlier—as the wind combed through your loose hair. The moonlight bathed your features in silver, highlighting the royal beauty that the night had hidden from the world. 

Taesan stood beside you, his hands clasped behind his back like always. His gaze was fixed forward, but even a child could tell that his attention was fixed on you. 

Not the view. 

You. 

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed. 

“Of course. Of course it is.”

You glanced sideways. He was staring at you instead of the horizon. 

A soft, rather knowing smile tugged at your lips. 

“Taesan,” you said softly. 

His breath hitched, because the sound of his name on your tongue—no formality, no title—felt forbidden. Yet it was the closest to heaven he’d get in this mortal world. 

THE walk back was quieter.

Not awkward, of course, but it was full. Heavy in the way snow-laden branches bend, not from burden, but from abundance. 

You walked close enough that your fingers brushed the fabric of Taesan’s sleeve every now and then. Each time it happened, his breath hitched the tiniest bit—so faint you might’ve mistaken it as the breeze. 

The palace walls loomed ahead, tall and dark against the moonlit sky. A sight you dreaded, banging heavy in your heart. 

The guards stationed at the outer courtyard had already begun their shift change. Lanterns glowed dimly, throwing elongated shadows across the tiles.

Taesan stopped first.

He always did.

A quiet signal that this was as far as he could follow you.

As far as he should follow you. 

You turned to him, the silver moonlight making that soft smile on your lips look more majestic than ever. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you told him. 

He didn’t reply instantly. 

Instead, he let the wind curl between the two of you, cold enough to sting, but Taesan was by far the warmest he’d ever been.

His mouth opened to speak, but closed before he uttered anything. 

Your eyes softened, and he knew it meant you were expecting him to step back into the shadows.

Well, that was what broke him.

Not desire.

Not the longing. 

Not even the lingering memory of your lips against his in hidden corners of the palace. 

It was the way you looked at him like you knew he wouldn’t choose himself. Like always.

But tonight… 

He did. 

Taesan stepped forward, ignoring the violent hitch in your breath. 

He held his hand out. Slow. Reverent. His finger brushed a stray snowflake from your cheek, lingering a beat too long. His eyes searched yours for permission. 

You didn’t speak. 

You only gave a tiny nod. 

That was all it took.

Taesan leaned in.

Not forceful, frantic. But with such gentleness it almost made your heart jump out of your ribs. 

His forehead touched yours first, as if giving you one last chance to stop him.

You didn’t.

Why would you?

So he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft.

Warm, but trembling with everything he never let himself say.

His other hand rose to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your hairline. He held you like you were fragile porcelain—laughable, given who you were—but to him, you were something far more breakable.

Like if he was being too greedy, too human, it’d break you.

But you kissed him back, breath warm against his lips. But for once, you weren’t the first to move.

Taesan deepened the kiss—just barely—enough for you to feel the subtle shiver running through him. Enough for the world to disappear except for the warm and desperate press of his mouth against yours.

When he finally pulled away, his breath came out in a trembling puff that tickled your swollen lips.

He rested his forehead against yours again, eyes closed, clearly struggling to piece himself back together.

“That…” His voice cracked. He swallowed. “I should not have done that.”

“But you did,” you murmured softly. 

“Yeah,” he opened his eyes, swallowing again. His gaze dropped to your mouth before riding back up to your eyes, forehead still resting against yours. “I did.”

You brushed your nose lightly against his. Playful, tender, teasing. “You know, I could get used to this.”

Taesan inhaled sharply, dread pulling at his eyebrows. Only you could turn a moment of painful desire and longing into a lighthearted jest. “Your Highness, please.”

You rolled your eyes as you stepped back. “Fine, fine.”

A beat. 

“You should get going,” Taesan said softly. 

Before I can’t stop having you.

You swallowed, nodding. The palace walls behind you felt too tall. Too restricting. 

“Yeah.”

As you slipped toward the palace doors, you glanced over your shoulder.

Taesan was still watching you.

But not like a guard.

Like a man who had finally let himself want something forbidden.

You whispered his name—just once, just for him—and he straightened as if called to battle.

Then you vanished behind the sliding wooden door.

Taesan stayed there long after it closed, the hand that had held your face stiff in place, trying to make your warmth linger longer between his fingers.

He didn’t care if he died from the cold, standing there. He breathed in the ghost of your kiss, indulging in the memory of your lips against his, as if it were the last warmth in winter. 

And maybe, just maybe… 

He’d force himself to want. To come back for more.

― © htaesan, 2025.

You pressed your lips together as you arranged the pages and polaroids, your thumb caressing one picture in particular that you took when the group was shooting “If I Say I Love You”. His no-teeth smile, his nose scrunched in that familiar way whenever he felt warmth from the people surrounding him. Lately, though, even that had faded from your camera roll.

He still smiled, of course. But the boy who used to interact with people who supported him and made their time worth it now came home quieter, heavier, which scared you and the members. You could feel it in hugs; they were tighter than usual, and far from those that come of full affection. The comeback was a full success; they were on the charts, the songs were doing well, and the fans loved it.

But online, the silence was loud. People started twisting his happiness into something performative, most of the comments saying the word “too much”—he was too much in general. The worst part? The same people were the ones who knew by heart that the hate that mocked someone for being genuine was the one that hurt most. Of course, he hasn’t said it out loud, but you couldn’t turn a blind eye to how he’d scroll through his phone in silence before going to sleep. Lips pressed thin, and his smile faded too soon.

You were tired of the smell of the glue, of the few cuts you got on your fingers, and how they felt numb after cleaning and decorating your heart out. Every single part of your last gift made sure he could see from your point of you how he mattered, because he truly did.

You heard the bell, and your heart immediately jumped.

“Oh my God, I forgot he would come early today.” You put the gift in the Christmas bag you had before rushing to open the door. You grabbed a towel when you walked by the kitchen, cleaning any traces of glitter from your hands. 

You smiled at the view of your boyfriend, his hood was up, mask halfway down, hair was damp from the snow.

“Hey, princess,” he greeted softly. You could see the eye bags caused by the lack of sleep due to the rough hours of practice, yet he smiled at you.

“Hi, birthday boy.” 

That caused him to chuckle, stepping inside as you helped him remove his scarf. “I thought you forgot.”

“As f I could,” you said, “you’ve been counting down to your birthday since last week. Plus, the city is surrounded by birthday messages.”

He grinned faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you usually make it feel even more special.”

You couldn’t ignore the crack in your chest at his tone, but you decided to sit him on the couch, and grab the remote to lower the volume of that random lofi playlist you found. You placed the small blanket that was sitting on the corner of the sofa on his lap.

“Give me two minutes, okay?” you said before darting to the kitchen just to come back a few seconds later. “Happy birthday to you…”

His lips parted slightly before smiling, that genuine smile you loved. The small birthday cake was homemade and slightly uneven to your misfortune. There was only one candle on top, which made it easier to walk with it.

When you finished the song, he looked at you. “You made this?”

“Of course, love,” you smiled, “we both know you’ll have plenty of fancy ones later with your group, so I decided to make this one just ours.”

He chuckled softly, the warmth returning to his face for a moment. “It looks good.”

You set it down on the table in front of you. “Make a wish.”

He looked at the candle, then at you, and for a second, he didn’t blink, but held your hand in the process. “I already got it,” he murmured. But he blew the candle anyway. 

You had to clap softly to prevent him from seeing you blush, an useless attempt to something that he already saw, and softly touching your cheek.

After sharing slices of cake and a conversation to distract him from your nerves, it was time. You left the empty plate on the table, grabbed the Christmas-themed gift bag from under the tree, and placed it beside him.

“I know it’s your birthday, but since you’ll be busy for the holidays and we can’t celebrate it properly, I wanted to do our exchange today.”

He tore out the tape that was keeping the bag together, blinking in surprise. “You made me something?”

“The cake, this, and something else, actually,” you said, trying to hide your excitement. “Go on, open it.”

Apparently, your excitement was contagious. The first thing he took was the graphic T-shirt you made in a workshop. It was simple, but printed with a design you made of all their albums. He grinned immediately.

“This looks so good,” he said, flipping it over.

“They taught us how to screen print. Take care of it, it’s a limited edition,” you joked. He chuckled at your comment; you could see the corners of his eyes softening as his thumb ran over the ink.

“Thank you so much,” he said, folding the shirt carefully and placing it on his lap as if it were something fragile.

“Well…” 

He blinked. “There’s more?”

Instead of answering, you reached into the bag again, pulling out the reason for the cuts on the tips of your fingers. The journal had a handmade leather cover, tied together with twine, decorated with small pressed flowers that had taken you embarrassingly long to align.

“This one took a while,” you said, offering it carefully. “You can open it whenever your heart feels like it.”

He frowned in mock suspicion but opened it. The first page was titled ‘And if I say 100 ‘I Love You’s’’

He was silent for a long time, eyes scanning your handwriting, the pasted polaroids of all the moments, the notes that held a reason alongside a story, and a random thought that popped out that day.

You wrote about everything. His laugh, his way of never giving up, his patience when helping others, even his dumb jokes, those that weren’t captured on camera but were engraved in your heart.

By the time he reached reason number seventeen, he paused. 

You watched the exact second his expression faltered. His throat bobbed, seeing how his eyes turned glassy, though he tried hiding it by lowering his head. His fingers trembled as they hovered over a picture of him hugging you backstage during their tour, face with undeniable happiness, and one of your favorites.

“Hey,” you whispered, touching his shoulder. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Simply closed the journal gently and placed it over the T-shirt. When he finally looked up, he could see your worried look.

“You wrote all of this for me?” his voice cracked at the last word. He exhaled shakily after you nodded. “Why?”

Your heart tightened at his question, more at the fact that you knew he meant why would anyone go through this much trouble for me? For a boy that the internet had spent weeks convincing he was “too much,”

You cupped his cheeks gently, your thumbs brushing away the faint dampness at the corners of his eyes. “Because someone needed to remind you of the truth before the noise drowned it.”

He moved everything he had on his lap to pull you onto it. His arms wrapped around your waist as your fingers slid into his damp hair, still cold from the snow. His forehead leaned against your chest.

“I’m so sorry, princess,” he murmured. “I’ve been coming home like a ghost, yet you always see me even when I can’t.”

“You’re allowed to be tired,” you assured him softly. “But you’re not allowed to face it alone. Not with me here.”

He nodded slowly, breathing in deep, settling in your warmth as if your hug could stitch him back together. You held him until his breaths evened out, feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen.

After a long moment, he sniffed once and straightened. “Okay,” he whispered, wiping his eyes sheepishly. “My turn.”

You blinked. “What?”

“My gift,” he said. “We are connected because I also made you something.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “It’s not as beautiful as what you made, but…”

“Jaehyun,” you warned playfully, “I will fight you in your living room.”

That earned a soft, breathy giggle you hadn’t heard from him in weeks. He reached into his backpack and pulled out something wrapped in brown paper tied with red yarn.

Your brows rose. “This looks handmade already.”

“That’s the point,” he muttered.

You sat back onto your knees and carefully untied the yarn. 

“Oh my God,” inside was a wooden music box, completely hand-carved, delicately sanded, and decorated with etched constellations. Now it was your turn to have your vision blurred by the tears piling up. “It looks exactly like the one I had as a child.”

He nodded shyly. “I asked your family if they had a picture of your old music box, and started to do it from scratch, took me several months.” His eyes softened. “But I finished, so I can see that smile.”

You opened the lid, welcomed by a soft melody that began to play. ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ was rearranged into something that sounded exactly in your head when you were with him.

He rubbed the back of his ear shyly. “I asked our composer-hyung to help me arrange it. Then I learned how to tune the mechanism myself.”

Your heart felt like it flipped.

“Jaehyun…” You swallowed. “This must have taken forever.”

“I wanted it to sound like home,” he murmured. “Because that’s what you feel like.”

You nearly dropped the box, but you looked at him, the glimpse of the boy who’d been trying so hard to stay bright in a world determined to dim him. And the boy who had carved constellations into wood just so you could hear your song play from something made by his hands.

You set the music box down gently and cupped his face again. “Come here.”

He tilted his head. “What—”

Your kiss cut him off, filled with everything words couldn’t carry, mixed with the faint flavor or your tears. He melted into you, fingers gripping the hem of your sweater as if anchoring himself. When you pulled away, he was really smiling. The characteristic nose scrunched with how his eyes turned into crescent moons.

The spark was back. Even if it flickered, it was there.

“Thank you for making everything better,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Thank you for making it worth it,” you replied, brushing your nose against his.

He looked at the journal again, then at the cake plate, the shirt, and the tree lights reflecting in your eyes.

“You’re my favorite thing I’ve ever loved,” he whispered. You smiled, cupping his head with your hands, brushing your thumbs over the ends of his eyebrows, the way he secretly loved.

“And you’re my favorite thing I’ve ever been given.” 

He pulled you back into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, his warm breath against your neck, his warmth wrapping around you tightly enough that you squeaked.

“Jaehyun—air,” you laughed between words.

“Nope,” he muffled dramatically. “I live it here now.”

“Oh, really?” you chuckled, lightly tapping his back. 

“Yes,” he said, all this while still hiding. “This is my home. I’m one with the sweater.”

You snorted, trying to pry him off, though your strength compared to his was laughable. “Jaehyun, you’re crushing me.”

“That’s the point,” You laughed harder, head falling back against the cushion. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist,” he corrected smugly without lifting his head.

“Oh my God,” you groaned. “You’re back.”

He finally peeked up, “There she is,” he teased, tapping your chin. “My favorite human who makes dangerously adorable birthday cakes.”

You pushed his shoulder lightly. “It was charming.”

“It was slanted.”

“JA—”

He cut you off with a quick kiss full of the spark you’d been missing. When he pulled back, he was smiling, really smiling.

“I feel lighter,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your cheek. 

You cupped his face gently. “Good to have you back, sir.”

He grinned, pulling you closer again, but this time not crushing you, just holding you. “Well then,” he whispered into your hair, “get ready.”

“For what?”

He nuzzled your temple, voice full of playful warmth.

“I’m going to be annoyingly affectionate before my promotions; you have been warned.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at the only exception you gave hugs. “Can’t wait.”

He kissed your forehead, “I love you,” 

“I love you more.”

And in that cozy December glow, wrapped in his arms and the soft hum of the music box, you knew—your Jaehyun was truly back, slowly, maybe some features won’t change, but you knew that spark would come back for good and stronger.

─── ONEDOOR UNITED! first collab ever, and i'm so glad it's with all these amazing people joining us with JAW DROPPING drabbles, please give it lots of love and happy December. Here's my masterlist! @onedoornet

“The weather,” you mumble, scooching deeper under the patchwork quilt. 

“Winter’s your favourite season,” she reminds you. 

“The birds are too loud.”

“Well, yeah… it’s six in the morning.”

“And the air is too cold.”

“We’ve got a space heater.” She nudges the metal appliance with a socked foot—fluffy white with prancing red reindeer. 

“December is cruel,” you whine, forgoing excuses altogether, simply satisfied with looking like a corpse under the layers of blankets and animal plushies. 

Wonyoung is unimpressed. She brushes her long hair down, watching your unbreathing figure in the mirror with a tired sigh. “What did Taesan do now?”

With a single sentence, she simultaneously opens the proverbial Pandora’s box and sets gasoline and fire to it. 

Han Taesan.

The devil in a school uniform, the bane of your existence—the man, the myth, the legend.

And additionally—your best friend, Han Taesan. 

“Do not speak of that moron ever again.” You crawl out of your bed to spit venom, staring daggers at Wonyoung’s reflection as she rolls her eyes—preoccupied with tying her ponytail back with a scarlet bow. 

In contrast, you’re still in your stained pullover that’s two sizes too big and murky grey sweatpants, sporting eyebags for days—red and puffy from crying all night. Safe to say, it isn’t your best look. 

It’s the first day of winter break: the boarding school grounds are packed with excited students eager to head home for the holidays and parents who wait with open arms to hold them. Snow dusts the windowsills, frost creeping up like vines over the glass panes. The watchman whistles a merry tune as he playfully salutes the cars away, a shovel in his other hand. 

The world holds its breath in anticipation of Christmas. 

And then there’s you… the picture of death—the fourth and final horseman, ready to strangle a man if need be.

“You need coffee.” Wonyoung gets up, lugging you forward by the forearm. “And some will to live if they have that at breakfast.”

//

On the first day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Heartbreak in a hoodie.

“So you’re saying,” your roommate neatly cuts into her omelette. “You fought over a dumb piece of clothing…?”

There’s no shame in your heart when you nod aggressively, chewing with enough force to break a molar—it isn’t just a dumb hoodie to you; this is serious business.

“He thinks he can just ask for it back! Like?” You use your hands to gesture widely. “Dude, we were fine one day, and then he’s demanding I return his clothes? The nice hoodie too!”

“It’s his clothes, though.” Her pragmatic answer earns her a vicious stare. “What!? I’m right, aren’t I? It’s not like you’re dating him or anything.”

“We’re best friends! That should count more than anything.” 

“Did you tell him that?” 

“I—” You did not. “I told him to return my vinyls.”

“Of course you did.” Wonyoung shakes her head in disappointment.

“And then he took his record player back, and then I had to take my DVDs back, and—”

“You guys have known each other since you were in the womb; why do you still fight like a pair of alley cats?” She sounds genuinely curious now, tilting her head.

“Precisely why we fight, my friend,” you say with a click of the tongue. “And also because he’s a moron.”

“He’s leaving home today, isn’t he? Aren’t you going with him?”

The fork in your hand slips out accidentally, landing on your plate with a clang. 

You hadn’t told her yet about the happenings of last night: the heated phone call with your mother, how she had scolded you for not understanding that both she and your father couldn’t make it back from their business trip on time as promised, and how you needed to be good and responsible and stay put until they could come back for you. How you were, essentially, stranded on campus for Christmas.

“Probably,” you lie, averting your eyes from hers.

“Y/N—”

“Hey, he can be petty all he wants, but his mom still loves me. She’d throw him away sooner than not choose me over that guy.” 

Your feigned confidence seems to work, and Wonyoung just laughs at your statement instead. 

In truth, you’re quite positive he’s already left—after some half-assed excuse to Mrs Han about why you were too busy to come down and say hi to her, while also staying completely oblivious to your current predicament. Hopefully he thinks you've gone home before he does.

Soon enough, Wonyoung will have left too, and you’ll be here all alone. 

Oh well… Here’s to the worst Christmas ever.

You toast an imaginary glass in your mind, preparing to rough it out underneath the blankets until the break is over and winter withers away. 

November 17th

On the second day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Two woollen gloves

And a heartbreak in a hoodie.

It started on a night that was like any other night.

Your elbows are linked with Taesan’s, boots inches deep in crunchy snow, leaving leg-shaped imprints as you trudge through. 

“How much longer?” You frown, blinking up at your school in the distance, spots of window lights signalling that you still had some time before curfew.

“This would be a lot easier if you could grow taller,” Taesan grumbles back, pulling you along with him.

You mutter some unsavoury words under your breath, quivering as the cold wind brushes over your cheeks and fingers, sending a wave of chill up your body. “Tae—”

“Here,” He’s already taking off the fuzzy black gloves from his hands, slipping them carefully over yours without letting you finish. “It’s kinda big, so don’t lose it in the snow.”

Taesan doesn’t wait for you to respond—he takes off once more, directing one of your hands into his coat’s pocket, keeping it warm with his body heat. 

But the pink tinge of his nose is unmistakably not from the cold. He only blushes that deep when he’s embarrassed—or when he’s trying to hide his affections under feigned nonchalance.

Han Taesan is easy to read, you think. It makes a giggle break free past your lips.

“What’s so funny?” Taesan narrows his eyes, challenging you to poke fun at him if you dare.

And of course, you dare. 

“Your fac—” you begin to retort, but the words lose volume when a buzz of chatter heads your way from the nearby trail through the snow. 

It’s a group—no, a horde—of students, all heading in the direction of the school, probably back from exploring the town the same way you were.

You spot several familiar faces amongst them: Leehan from Chemistry, Woonhak—the freshman who never returned your feathery pens (yes, multiple) back to you, and Danielle, who you swore had a crush on Wonyoung. The rest are friends of friends or acquaintances you’ve met in the hallway or at dinner on occasion. 

Woonhak brightens as his eyes land on you. “Y/N! You look like you’re about to freeze to death!” he says with a too-happy tone that makes you want to strangle him. 

You whip your hand out of Taesan’s pocket to carry through with the act. 

“Kim Woonhak, you brat.” You start chasing him around the circle. “Is that how you greet your elders? And give me back my pens!” You don’t even know why he needed all three out of your collection.

Woonhak weaves in and out between people to escape your wrath. “I swear, I don’t know where I put it!” He pleads for mercy.

After many more rounds, and a break for ragged heaving, you finally let up.

“Truce,” he begs, leaning on an amused Leehan, while Taesan glances sharply at the younger boy. “Take my scarf as compensation.”

On a better day, you might have held onto your pride and asked him to stuff the scarf down his throat. But today, you are cold, and you are severely underdressed. 

With a huff and a tut, you swipe it out of his offering hands, wrapping it around your freezing neck. Woonhak grins in relief. 

“You’re getting my pens back even if you die trying.” Your tone indicates that it’s not a request. 

Woonhak is attentive only to the fact that you aren’t about to let him bleed out in the snow at this very moment, and it drives him to engulf you in a bear hug. 

“Ugh,” you grumble, but still hug him back without reluctance. He could be cute when he wasn’t losing your things, you suppose. “Only because it’s Christmas.”

Woonhak prepares to squeeze you once more and spin you around in his rush of festive excitement, but the moment is broken with an annoyed cough. 

Taesan’s.

“Curfew. Late,” he sneers, a narrowed gaze flipping between you and Woonhak.

“Oh shit, you’re right.” Woonhak gasps, moving to grab Leehan’s arm. “Hyung, we should go now. Warden’s not gonna be as kind the third… wait, no—fourth time.”

The group moves along in front, speeding up to make it on time. You and Taesan linger behind them—the space between you suddenly quiet, tense. 

He doesn’t try to make conversation with you like he usually does, nor do you attempt the same back. When you grasp the frayed ends of Woonhak’s scarf to collect your thoughts, absentmindedly nuzzling into its hollow, Taesan seems to put more distance between you.

The walk back to the dorms is unbearably strange—he doesn’t drop you off at your room as usual, there are no verbal goodbyes, no fist bumps, no nothing—just a quiet jerk of the chin and the image of him walking away without saying anything more. 

Any hopes of things returning back to normal soon are severed the next day.

//

November 18th

On the third day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Three feather pens

Two woollen gloves

And a heartbreak in a hoodie.

“My gloves,” Taesan says monotonously. “Give it back.”

You lean against your door, scratching your hair. “What happened to hello? Good morning? How have you been, best friend?”

“Been great. Now gloves.” He makes a motion with his hands, and you frown.

“It’s in my jacket.” You yawn, pointing at the laundry hamper.

“Well, get it.” Taesan is impatient. “And my black hoodie with my varsity number. Y’know…the one you stole.” 

“Stole!? You lent it to me! I never even asked.” 

“Could have given it back after washing, no?” He crosses his arm, raising a brow, looking like the poster child for annoyance. 

“God, you’re such a jerk,” you huff, digging through your dirty hamper for his stupid hoodie you did not care for. “Here,” you throw it at his chest, and he winces. 

“Now the T-shirt from last year—”

“Okay, what is going on with you?” You stand akimbo, staring quizzically at him. Taesan looks away, nose flared. 

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“You,” he begins sharply, voice riding up an octave by accident. He forces it back to his normal pitch. “You’re so oblivious to everything, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You feel your irritation turn into anger, your vision seeing red when you look at your best friend of close to two decades.  

“Exactly what I said,” he sneers. You want to punch that expression off his face. 

Taesan’s grip on the varsity hoodie tightens, and he refuses to meet your eyes still, dawdling at the foot of your door like he wanted to stay and fight. 

“Listen,” You suck in a breath, counting from one to ten. “Whatever problem you have, let's talk it out, yeah? And maybe not with my door wide open where everyone can hear.”

“What makes you think I want to talk?”

There he goes again, being difficult—making your life challenging on purpose, as though he gets some sort of pleasure from riling you up. 

“You know what, Taesan… ” You grab more of his clothes out of your wardrobe—some band tees, a couple beanies he’d tossed your way on winter outings, and a flannel shirt that hasn’t seen the light of day in ages. 

You seethe as you stuff a whole bundle of fabric into his unprepared hands, making him stumble in his spot. “Do what you want with your stupid clothes—burn them for all I care. Oh, and,” you curl your hands around the door handle. “Come back when you’re done sulking like a baby.” 

With that, you shut the door in his face.

It escapes your mind that the gloves he came for in the first place still lie neatly tucked into your jacket pocket. 

December 4th

On the fourth day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Four precious words

Three feather pens

Two woollen gloves

And a heartbreak in a hoodie.

It’s been three whole days since the winter break kicked off. 

You’ve been permanently living in sweats, the occasional shower being your only saving grace from making you look like a sewer rat. Your hair is deranged, your face unmoisturised and tired, and your bed etched with the weight and shape of you starfishing on top of it. 

The first human contact in days comes in the form of four knocks to your door. 

At first you don’t respond, chalking it up to one of the unfortunate faculty members who was forced to stay behind to keep an eye on the non-home-goers. They’d leave if you pretended to be asleep.

Except—

Four more knocks.

“Who the fuck—” You exhale angrily, throwing the blanket off of you and stomping over to swing the door open, only to be met with—"I… Taesan?”

He stands with his hand hovered awkwardly, evidently ready for another set of knocks.

“Uh,” he gulps, resembling a cat caught in a crime. “Hey.”

It occurs to you that his other hand holds a metal pot, the scent of rice and fermented vegetables taking over your senses; you have to remind yourself that you are still mad at him.

“What are you doing at school? Shouldn’t you be home by now?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“I could say the same for you,” he shoots back.

You’re already beginning to whack the door closed, but he’s quick enough to catch it with a palm. “Listen,” he says, sighing. “I’m… sorry, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Can I come in?” Taesan’s gaze lingers at your eyes, nothing close to his animosity from days ago. “Please?”

You find yourself letting him in. 

"Here," he pulls out your feather pens from his pocket. "I made Woonhak find them. It was with his laundry..."

You take it from him, unable to form a coherent thanks.

Instead you turn around, and gently place it down on the vanity.

“Mom said,” he begins, but you shush him with a motion of your hands.

“Lemme go shower first. I stink.”

He nods, settling the pot down on your chair, and letting you shuffle out the door with a towel and a spare change of clothes. 

When the water hits your head, you have to calm your racing heart down. 

Why is Taesan still here…? Why does he have his mom’s food with him? And most of all, why is he saying sorry? 

You didn’t expect any of this—honestly, you were prepared to slump out the rest of the break in the solitude of your room, waiting for the day he’d come back and both of you would have forgotten the fight for good.

But… he had said sorry. 

Why?

When you return, the sight that awaits you almost makes you drop your towel on the floor.

“Sannie?” You blink. 

Taesan is dragging two chairs to the centre of your dorm room, a horde of your blankets in his arms as though he were about to go do your laundry. The radio hums the sweet tune of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’. At your voice, he turns to look at you—a small, nervous smile beginning to show itself on him.

“I’m… building a pillow fort,” he coughs out, trying to wave away the awkwardness. 

“Umm… why?”

Taesan shrugs. “For old time’s sake?” 

You know what he’s doing—the old trick his mom would use when the two of you quarrelled as kids. She’d push the couches and chairs together, throw plenty of sheets over them, and arrange layers of blankets underneath to set up a makeshift tent. There was no way either you or Taesan could resist crawling into its warmth. Then you’d spend all night dipping cookies into milk and reading fairy tales together.

It’s exactly what he’s trying to replicate.

Wordlessly, you join him in laying your duvet and quilt down on the carpeted floor, dimming the lights so that the only glow is a soft orange from your night lamp. Out the ajar windows, you can see the gentle snowfall, drifting to the melody of the carol as the moon hangs behind the canopy of milky-white trees. Songbirds sing along, their wings flecked with snow, settling your room in perfect bliss.

You scoot inside the fort as Taesan brings over the pot of kimchi fried rice. Your plushies (which you now remember had been won by him on your arcade trips from childhood) stare at the two of you from the sidelines, pillows lining every inch and corner of the fort. 

“I can get your gloves for you now,” you whisper, in fear of breaking the calm.

“It’s okay,” he pouts, softer. “I… It’s yours. I won’t ask for it back.”

“Oh… Okay.” You lower your head, fiddling with your fingers. Swirls of steam rise above the pot next to you, food still untouched. “So, why didn’t you go home?”

Taesan responds in the shiest voice you’ve heard from him, “Mom told me not to come back before making up with you. She came by to leave you some food, though…said she made it especially for you.”

“Oh.”

“And… Well, I wasn’t going to leave you alone. It’s Christmas… and I’d miss you too much.”

Now it’s your time to flush an embarrassing shade of ruby. Your hands instinctively hug a cat plush in your lap, and it only sends another wave of heat down your throat when you realise how similar it looks to Taesan.

“You called him taetnyangi.” He’s smiling, finally brave enough to look at you.

“I…remember now.” You nod. “You got it for me after we fought over the last candy bar, back in seventh grade.”

Taesan grins at the shared memory—fond of how softly the words leave your lips. He relaxes against a pillow at his back, letting the worries from before wash away under the hazy lights and nostalgic music. “I was jealous,” he says, eyes fixed on taetnyangi. “And angry at myself for being so…scared. And late.”

Your heart stutters. Everything feels dreamlike in this moment—something right out of a photo album from childhood. Or a precious memory to be recollected on particularly sentimental days. Taesan’s words don’t feel real. 

But he repeats again, louder, “When Woonhak gave you his scarf, and… and you accepted,” his chest is caught in a sharp inhale. “I thought you didn’t need my gloves anymore. It’s stupid, I know.” He smiles, and it hurts. “I thought…you didn’t need me anymore.

“I was gonna confess that night, before everyone interrupted us,” he adds with conviction, and his voice indicates he doesn’t expect a ‘yes’ from you—that he never did.

“Taesan—”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a jerk to you—for pretending I came here to take my clothes back when… I wanted to apologise. It just scared me to tell you the truth.” Taesan’s voice breaks off into a thin sigh, his eyes downturned dejectedly. 

“Taesan—”

“I know I suck, and you deserve better. We’re always fighting, and half of the time it’s because I go too far with my teasing, but it’s only because I like seeing you angry, and,” he catches his breath, too trapped inside his own head. “I’m terrible at communicating and an asshole, and I don’t know how to be normal and just tell you I like you and—”

“Han Taesan, shut up,” you exhale a grin, stopping his ramble by leaning in to hold his face between your palms. “Say that again.”

“I’m… an asshole…?”

“The part after that.” 

He pouts shyly. “I…I like you, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I have since we were kids,” he confesses. “I never wanted to make you hate me.”

“I’d never hate you.” You shake your head, your eyes softening. “You’re my best friend.”

“I acted like a brat.”

“A moron,” you correct, coaxing out another pout from him—one that you swipe at with your thumb. “Can I..”

He quirks his head, confused. But it just makes him look cuter than he is. 

You clear your throat, embarrassed at having to spell it out. “Can I kiss you?” you end up mumbling, but Taesan’s red cheeks indicate that he’s heard you loud and clear.

He dignifies your question with a tiny nod. 

When your lips meet halfway, it’s clumsy and a little hesitant. He smells like candied apples—and winter. It makes you lean closer for a better taste. Taesan takes it as an invitation to press you closer, a warm hand coming to rest against your lower back, the other cupping your jaw to keep you both steady.

Opening your eyes, you see his half-lidded gaze, his profile washed in soft orange, the tender material of the blankets firm under your fingers. Under the canopy of mismatched bedsheets and linens, you see your best friend differently for the first time.

“Hey,” he pauses for just a couple seconds, enough to say, “Burn his scarf and I’ll give you the hoodie back.”

You burst out in laughter but agree to his ridiculous request with a nod. He grins bright and happy.

The clock strikes midnight, and once more, you’re melting into another kiss, like snow under sunlight.

December 5th

On the fifth day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Five snow-kissed wings

Four precious words

Three feather pens

Two woollen gloves

And a daydream in a hoodie.

Taesan breaks away from your lips, letting his ghost against yours.

“Wanna go home with me tomorrow?” he asks, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. 

You nod. “Anywhere with you is okay.”

The fifth day of December brings you new understandings, the sweetest kisses you’ve ever tasted, and a pillow fort straight out of childhood dreams. When he catches your lips without holding back, the song comes to a peaceful end, leaving just the pleasant chirp of the birds to keep you company. 

This is what you know now: 

Home is a person, and yours is Han Taesan—and you’d be happier than ever to just spend Christmas with him here, in your house made of pillows and blankets.

fin.

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inbox always open!

“K.”

Was the last text he sent to you, his frustration evident, he never does that. It's been a long two months for you both, and instead of there being ups in your relationship, everything seems to be going downhill, no matter how much you try to fix it. Donghyun is busy; it's apparent. You knew what you were signing up for when you started dating your boyfriend, of course, you didn't care. He's straight out of a fairytale; sweet, charming, funny, and god was he gorgeous. The fairytale prince you once knew was only diminishing; lately, he's snappy, uncoordinated, and he's barely home because of how busy he is with his schedule. You can see how much it's hurting him; his dark eyes are shiny from tears threatening to spill each time you argue, his hands are shaking, and he doesn't recognize himself, nor do you.

Your most recent argument is a high contender for the worst one yet; even better, it was over text. You stare at the grey and blue bubbles as you scroll through the thread of texts for the hundredth time, trying to craft solutions in your mind that wouldn't quite work. You thought of reaching out to him in an attempt to hear his side of the story, but you know he's busy; that's what the argument was about after all. With a sigh, you scrap trying to communicate with him and do the second-best thing: put your phone down and let it haunt you until you see him again. You curl up in your grey sheets and cover yourself with a blanket. When the silence settles around you, tears come to your eyes rather quickly. You think of the times when your relationship first started to bloom, the smiles, shared laughs, and how warm you used to feel around him. It's rare to feel those butterflies anymore, the ones that set a fire in your stomach and practically make you a human heater. You long for those times again, especially with the harsh winter outside; you feel colder than ever. You tell yourself to keep your composure, after all, he comes home from his tour today. Though no matter how much you try to keep them in, the tears flow from your eyes.

You settle in your bed for a few minutes, letting the tears flow from your sockets onto the bedding, leaving wet splotches in their wake. The room around you blurs, water floods your vision, and that overwhelming emptiness you feel takes its place where those old butterflies should be. That's when you see them from the corner of your eye, the Christmas lights circling your bedroom. You can't exactly make out their shape due to your limited vision, but the red, green, and blue colors pop out to you, almost magically. That's when you decide you aren't going to sulk over your boyfriend, and rather think of yourself for once. You wipe the tears from your eyes and climb out of your bed. It's almost Christmas. Why are you letting yourself be sad? You run down the hallway and out into your kitchen, the box of hot chocolate packages already out on the counter.

Though you push it out of your way, and instead raid your cabinets and fridge for different ingredients. Today, you're making homemade hot chocolate, and you've finally found what you'll use to finally make up with your boyfriend once and for all: Christmas cheer and your mom's homemade hot cocoa.

Donghyun's eyes haven't left your texts, not since he sent his last message. He stares at his reflection in his phone screen, trying not to let the "read 2:00 pm" get to him. He fucked up, he's realized that every single time he's yelled at you, even ignored you. Your recent argument only screamed in his face that he needed to fix things. He hums as he browses the coffee aisle in the local grocery store. He's just gotten back from tour, and a very long plane and car ride. To say he's fatigued is an understatement, no matter how tired he is, though, your face flickers across his mind, you're doing this for her, he tells himself, trying to keep his eyes open as he searches for two key words, "Hot Chocolate".

It's a pathetic gift for an apology, but the thought of making hot chocolate and watching a movie with you warms his soul. He grabs a box of the brand you usually buy and drops it into his basket, his next destination: marshmallows.

"You falling asleep?"

Dongmin's voice rings through his ears. Right, he didn't come alone. He shrugs his shoulders, his exhaustion evident from his lack of words. His best friend hums from behind him. Dongmin walks up next to him, occasionally bumping shoulders with Donghyun as they walk side by side. Dongmin has become a great listening ear to Donghyun lately; he confides in his friend for almost everything, especially his relationship with you. He knows everything. Donghyun is surprised his perspective on him hasn't changed.

"You should buy the big marshmallows, girls like those."

That gets a laugh out of Donghyun, a rare occurrence lately since he's been so stressed. His schedule as an idol is busy to say the least, constantly learning, making public appearances, helping his members with music and choreography, not to mention performances, he's on his toes 24 hours a day. Lately, idol work has been piling up, staff are relentless, and he hasn't had a day when he isn't frustrated with everyone around him. Unfortunately, that even includes you, his lovely girlfriend. Which absolutely kills him. He can only picture your hurt expression every time you argue, the tears straining your eyes; he instantly folds and resorts to silence. He vows to fix everything today, even himself. Even if it's over hot cocoa in your cramped kitchen, anything will do for him at this point.

"Girls like these, huh?"

Donghyun picks a package of large marshmallows from the shelf in front of him, failing to notice the huge smile on his best friend's face. Maybe it's the freedom of being off tour, or the thought of being able to see you in person again, but he feels his personality start to shine through the darkness that surrounds him. Dongmin hooks his arm around Donghyun's, dragging him impatiently out of the aisle.

"Let's look at the Christmas decorations before we leave."

Donghyun sighs and lets Dongmin drag him away from the marshmallows. He can't say no to the stars twinkling in the other's eyes, even if it's taking time out of his evening. The store practically transforms when they both step foot into the Christmas section. Lights, trees, reindeer, Santa, it's almost like the North Pole threw up all over the corner of the market. Donghyun stops in his tracks, his pupils growing in size as he examines the various lights surrounding the shelves. He suddenly remembers it's almost that time of year, a holiday he especially loves. Happiness spreads through his system as he recalls setting up the decorations with you, dressing the tree, and the cupcakes you made that day. He remembers what Christmas is about: love and giving, and out of everything, warmth and happiness.

It's almost as if a switch was flipped inside of him, but he's suddenly more motivated to spend time with you, even more than he already was. He turns on his heels and speed walks out of the aisle.

"C'mon, hyung! I need to get flowers for her!"

He yells out as he jogs towards the front of the market. Dongmin staggers behind, whining as Donghyun ignores his pleas for him to slow down. He was on a mission. make you happy, feel loved, and most of all, fix the mistakes he's been making.

After dropping Dongmin off, Donghyun tries his very best not to get a speeding ticket while on his way back to your shared apartment. He's excited rather than nervous now; he knows there won't be any yelling, any disagreement, or tears. Rather, actual communication. The hot cocoa and flowers in his passenger seat are only a plus. He's also happy to be able to see your face again; he only hopes you won't be mad when he walks through the door. That's the only thing he's letting himself be anxious over. He pulls into the parking lot outside of your complex and turns off his car, shivering when he opens the door to the cold. He hugs the flowers and the paper bag close to his chest to create a little warmth as he treks inside.

The trip up the elevator almost kills him, and the two-minute wait feels like two hours. He shifts his weight between his feet as he watches the floor number go up, slowly reaching the fifth floor where you both live. He wonders how you've been holding up for the two days after your recent argument; he can only hope you haven't been beating yourself up over it. After what felt like forever, the elevator opens with a ding, and Donghyun runs right out of it and towards your apartment. He fumbles with the keys and almost drops them twice opening up the door. Maybe he's more nervous than he'd like to admit.

"Home !"

He shouts out, confused when the smell of chocolate fills his nose. He wanders further into your shared home, kicking off his shoes as he approaches the kitchen, just to be met with the surprise of you stirring around something in a pot; he can only assume that's where the chocolate smell is emanating from. Donghyun's heart instantly melts. You both had the same idea. He slowly moves towards the counter and drops the bag off, before coming behind you and wrapping his arms around your figure, effectively startling you.

"Donghyun!?"

You turn around in his arms and instinctively rest your hands on his chest. You didn't hear him come in. He grins and pulls you closer, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead.

"Not even a 'Babe'? Woe is me…"

You roll your eyes as he juts his bottom lip out and gives you the best puppy eyes he can muster. You slip out of his grip and turn off the stove, so you don't burn the hot cocoa you spent a good amount of time on. Not before realizing the beautiful bouquet of flowers in your boyfriend's hand. You reach out and touch the colorful petals with your fingers, your lips parted.

"For me?"

You take them with a soft squeal as he nods his head, quickly turning around to find a makeshift vase for them in the cupboard. As you pull out a glass, you wonder if Donghyun is spoiling you to avoid communication. You set down the items in your hand and stare at them; the butterflies previously fluttering around in your stomach disappear. You fidget with the petals on the flowers as doubt fills your brain. By the way he's acting, the gifts, the curious grocery bag, the only thought that comes to your mind is that he's ignoring the argument he previously started.

"Can we actually talk?"

Of course, until he speaks up, and it's almost like your prayers were answered. Your body whips around, your actions startling Donghyun.

"I've been waiting for you to say something, sit in the living room for me?"

He follows your orders like an obedient puppy and shuffles towards the living room. You take the pot of hot chocolate off the stove and place it on the counter. You get two mugs and pour the liquid in, adding whipped cream on top; the only ingredient you're missing is a couple of marshmallows. Curiously, you open the paper bag Donghyun brought home with you, big marshmallows pleasantly surprising you, along with a box of hot chocolate, you don't fail to notice that it's your favorite brand as well. You recognize he had the same idea as you. You sigh, a big smile painting your face as you pull the marshmallows out, plopping two in both of your mugs.

When you meet your boyfriend in the living room, he's anxiously bouncing his leg, waiting for you. You place his mug in front of him and sit down, looking at him through your eyelashes as you sip the hot chocolate. You stay silent and wait for him to start the conversation; you only feel like it's fair. Finally, he looks up at you. You can't tell what he's thinking, but with how downturned his eyes are, you can only assume he feels very guilty.

"I should start by apologizing."

And there started your hour-long conversation, you vent about how horrible he's been making you feel, and he listens intently, admittedly making you nervous with how much he seems to care. That's when you saw the Donghyun you first started dating, attentive, caring, and sweet. The look in his eyes make you melt as he comes up with solutions for you both, pinpointing every problem, every mistake he's made. You even admit to some of your faults in the relationship, too, and find ways to fix them in the long run.

The conversation ends with your lips on his, the chocolately taste coating your taste buds as you deepen the kiss. The smell of pine and the feeling of warmth overcome both of you, and suddenly Christmas feels the way it should: happy and loving.

a/n : GAHH ending is rushed.. haven’t posted in like a million years but hi guys!! I miss u!! I’ll be back from hiatus after dec!

perm taglist — @beomtomie @sincerelysungho @ajjaehyun @leeknowramona @wensurr @vanillakirstein

bonedo taglist — @sincerelysungho @ajjaehyun @ivxae @chayuni400 @tsanho @taestulipss

On the other hand, Jaehyun kept himself busy with the checklist on his hand. Every year, the mayor sends volunteers to help out at the shelter. Being a big animal shelter in a small city was a struggle with the lack of staff and budget cuts. Since the local government can't give their yearly budget an increase, they compensate by sending volunteers during the end of the year.

"Hey, Jae I found a package by the door when I came in this morning. It says its dog food but this box feels too light," Taesan informs him while bringing over a huge box. Jaehyun's forehead forms creases in confusion. Dog food in a box? When did they start shipping them in boxes instead of sacks? Maybe it was the dog sticks he ordered? He immediately rips off the adhesives and opens the package in Taesan's arms. They both raise an eyebrow and give each other a look that says "are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Inside the box were what seemed to be around almost a hundred pieces of mini mistletoe decorations.

Woonhak looks at the two of them and walks towards the box, intrigued by their facial expressions. Upon seeing the contents of the box, he bursts out laughing and falling on the floor. "Did you jus- did you just get scammed?! I-I told you not to buy from that shop!" Woonhak breathlessly tries to say. The boy was gasping for air at this point. Taesan giggles at the sight before dropping his smile when he looked back to see Jaehyun's glaring at him. Jaehyun grabbed his temples and did a few breathing exercises before trying to think of what to do with the contents of the box. "That's why they had a no refund policy. Well, the neighbours are lucky. Ask around for anyone looking for a mistletoe decoration for their houses, tell them we have…extras. Just give them away to anyone." He tells Taesan while still massaging his temples. Woonhak, who had already finished laughing, wraps an arm around his shoulders and says, "Hey, don't give them all away. You never know when you're going to reconnect with your almost ex girlfriend and tell them that you actually like them back but had commitment issues back then. Then, you can kiss under the mistletoe to make sure that this time you are end game." Jaehyun starts counting to a hundred to calm his nerves and stop himself from giving Woonhak a punch in the face.

After calming himself down, Jaehyun shoved the boy off of him before starting to walk away. "Hey, Taesan. I'm going back to the office to call the mayor's office and ask when the volunteers are going to come. Tell Woonhak, after he's done being stupid, to hurry up with the cleaning because it's almost time for the puppies at the nursery to eat." Taesan responded with a thumbs up while Woonhak continued to hang mistletoe's in the ceiling.

Jaehyun throws his phone on the desk and pinches the bridge of his nose. The service center landline just had to stop working today of all days. With Taesan and Woonhak out to request for a repairman from the service center across town, his morning workload just doubled and he would probably work overtime today considering how long it takes to get to the service center alone, not including the wait time to find an available repairman. But he silently thanks whoever powerful being was above, because the volunteers arrive today. His workload may have doubled but at least the double is just orienting and instructing the volunteers. He stood up and grabbed the checklist on the desk and headed out to start on his work.

After orienting the volunteers on what kind of help the shelter needed and where things were located, he noticed that one of them seems to be busy examining a picture on the wall by the lobby. "They must be a late comer," he thought, not remembering anyone who wore their hair down earlier. Carefully, he walked towards the girl and followed her line of sight. "That's Charm, one of our oldest and nicest dogs at the shelter," he said, startling the girl a little. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he apologized. The girl looked back at him and Jaehyun's face was enveloped in shock.

"Yn?"

"Jaehyun?" The girl's face mirrored Jaehyun's. Eyes wide open and jaw dropped to the floor.

"I'm gonna go check on Charm and her babies," he mumbled in a hurry and dashed away as quickly as he could. Yn was left standing there alone with her jaw still dropped to the floor. Just like he did that day. Woonhak shook his head disappointingly as he watched from the window. He wondered whether he should put everything he learned from fanfics to use. Because clearly, these two weren't capable of fixing matters on their own.

Jaehyun's heart was beating way too fast for his liking. He keeps dropping stuff from his hands due to his sweaty palms. His head was light and airy, he was  sure it would float away if he removed the scarf on his neck…scarf? He quickly untangled his scarf from his neck and threw it over his desk. 'That's so much better. See? I'm not shaken up, it was just the scarf I forgot to remove,' he thought to himself. He shakes his body in hopes of also shaking away his nerves. The sudden opening of the door startled him and caused him to knock down his pencil cup. He looked by the door to find the culprit who almost caused him a heart attack.

"The repairman's at the nursery fixing the heater," Taesan informed him. A mischievous smile appears on his and Jaehyun immediately shakes his head, "No."

"I haven't even said anything," he raised his hands in surrender. Jaehyun glared at him but Taesan simply laughed at his face, finding his situation amusing. He had been waiting for this for a year.

A few years ago, Taesan and Woonhak met Jaehyun and his best friend Yn. It was obvious from the very start that the two were harboring feelings for each other as more than friends. Long story short, last year, something finally happened between the two. Yn confessed her feelings for Jaehyun. They thought that Jaehyun would obviously accept her confession.

But they were wrong.

They couldn't believe it. Then, Yn left to pursue her studies abroad. Only being able to catch up with her through watching her Instagram stories. But due to their busy schedule at the shelter, it seems that Taesan had missed any posts about her return home.

"Han Taesan, be honest with me, I know you two still follow each other on Instagram. Did you know she was back?" He asks in an accusatory tone. Taesan crossed his arms over each other and looked at Jaehyun unamused, "No, I didn't...but if I did I wouldn't have told you." Taesan stood up and placed his hands on Jaehyun's shoulder, "Its time for you to tell her the truth. Don't chicken out again this time." Jaehyun pulled on his hair as he plopped down on the swivel chair, his impact causing it to roll back, hitting the cabinet behind. Even his chair was nudging him forward, as if its also telling him to talk to you.

The next few days suffocated Woonhak. It was him that feels the frustration for the two. Jaehyun had kept avoiding and running away from Yn. Every time he realizes they were in the same room, he finds a way or makes up an excuse to leave. Woonhak can't help but feel pity towards Yn. It was obvious in her face and the way her eyes follows Jaehyun, that she was hurting from his actions. In that moment, Woonhak finally decides that he's going to take action and make sure that the two would fix whatever this was going on between them.

"Kim Woonhak if I freeze to death tonight, I will haunt you forever." Taesan complained as he turned up the heater in his car, that was parked just across the street from the shelter. The plan was to lock the exit of the shelter, like a "forced close proximity" situation. According to Woonhak this was the most effective solution to making two people who avoid each other like the plague to talk things out.

Jaehyun grabbed his scarf from the rack and wrapped it around his neck before heading out and locking the door to his office. He walked down the quiet hallways, eyes looking through each window that he passes by to see all the dogs sleeping comfortably and checking to see if all the heaters were working. At the last turn, he notices that the light was still on in the nursery. Curious, he approached the room and finds the girl he had been avoiding all week, head on top of her arms as she dozes off on the table in front of the puppies. For the first time, his feet dragged him towards her instead of running away. He sat down quietly in front of her and leaned forward to examine her face as she slept. She looked more tired compared to the last time they last saw each other. Her hair seemed to be longer now too, a tell-tale sign she's been neglecting herself as he knew how much she hated growing it out past her elbows.But these changes doesn't change the fact that in Jaehyun's eyes, she was still the prettiest in the world.

"How long are you going to stare at me?" Jaehyun jumps from his seat, startled by her voice, hitting his knee on the table in the process. He doubles over in pain, face contorting as he rubs his knee. Yn laughs at the sight and sits straight on her chair.

"What are you doing here? Are you done avoiding me?" she said, body turned to face him.

"Oh, I just saw that the lights were still on in here so I came to check." God, he hated the way his heart was beating way too fast right now. Its like his body's default mode every time he's around Yn. "So, you're still avoiding me?"

Jaehyun visibly gulps. Yn chuckles at him. His ears reacting at the sound, red tint spreads across his cheeks. He missed hearing that so much. "Yn, can we talk?" he began. Yn's face turned serious and nodded.

He takes a deep breath before sitting again on the chair before Yn. He fixed his posture and dusted his coat before finally looking into her eyes. His breath gets caught in his throat as soon as he locks eyes with her. It feels like he's sixteen years old and confessing to his crush all over again. Yn slid her hand across the table and grabbed onto Jaehyun's, her thumb rubs his knuckles to calm him down after noticing his nervous fumbling. Unexpectedly, considering how nervous he usually gets around her, this time he feels his heart calm down.

"I'm sorry about last year."

"Oh, come on, Jaehyun. We promised not to be awkward about it." Yn interjected. This time it was Jaehyun's hands who held onto hers.

"No, listen to me. I lied back then," he continued. Yn furrows her eyebrows in confusion. She squeezes his hands, urging him to keep talking. "I did like– well, I still like you. Back then, I was just...I was being dumb. I was scared that I'll mess us up." His head drops down to his chest. "I've never felt that strongly to anyone before. I'm sorry for lying and hurting you." The weight on his chest finally disappears. But then anxiety takes over at the lack of response from Yn. It gets even worse when she pulled away her hand from his causing him to shot his head up. Jaehyun starts worrying that he really messed up this time and regret starts to fill him.

"Yn, I'm so sorry. You probably don't even have feelings for me anymore."

"Wait, Jaehyun, listen to me." She spoke up but Jaehyun didn't stop.

"I messed up didn't I? I'm so sorry. I should have just kept my mouth shu–"

Yn couldn't help but grab his face to pull him into a kiss. Jaehyun's eyes widen and he was frozen solid on his seat. He couldn't believe what was happening. His hands pinch his arm to check if this just a dream but he's pinching himself and he still feels her lips on his.

Yn pulled away right when he realized that it was in-fact not a dream. She opens her eyes to find his already locked with hers. His pupils were wide and he looked like he had just seen a ghost, "What was that? What does that mean? Why did you do that?" Yn laughed at the sight, throwing her head back. He looks at her and pouts.

"Stop laughing, why are you laughing? Who kisses someone then starts laughing?" He whines. Yn keeps laughing at his adorableness. Her hand was grabbing at her stomach now. It took a moment for her to calm down and notice the huge pout on Jaehyun's face. "Are you done now?" She wipes away the tears in the corner of her eyes and nods.

"I'm sorry, you just looked so cute." Yn responded, hands reaching for his.

"Will you tell me why you kissed me now?"

"Do you seriously not get it?" She tilts her to the side.

She leans in to peck his lips again and smiles at him teasingly, "I like you too. Well, still like you because, remember how I confessed to you last year and then you rejec–"

This time, it was his turn to cut her off with a kiss. Their stomachs flipping and turning. The air they exhale from their mouth when they pull away for a second to catch their breath before going back in, warms their cheeks. Smiling into the kiss as it feels ticklish on their faces.

Suddenly, Yn pulled away, "Can I ruin this moment and ask about the ugly, tiny mistletoe hanging above us?" Jaehyun looked up to the ceiling and sighed. Remembering how their shelter ended up with way too much mistletoes hanging everywhere due to his careless late-night purchase.

"It's a long story. Just pretend it's romantic because we're under it right now." They both just simply shrug their shoulders and continue basking in each others warmth and presence.

Meanwhile, Woonhak and Taesan high five each other upon seeing that the two finally made up. They got worried at the lack of sign of life from the two and went to check for themselves. "Guess you could say they finally addressed the mistletoe in the room. I'm such a genius, I knew sacrificing my neck to hang those mistletoe's everywhere was worth it."

Taesan sighed at Woonhak, "Genius? More like you're playing cupid on other people's love life because you're lonely."

"This is why your crush decided to date somebody els– oof!" A snowball hits Woonhak's face. Let's end this fic on a nice note and not piss Taesan off.

Merry crisler to those who celebrate!

©️ tobiotaesan

Woonhak knows that he’s not your first.

But, after hearing how you’ve casually mentioned that you never decorated your own tree with a significant other, he took it as an opportunity. 

He took it as a sign. A chance. A place where he could be your “first” at something that could matter so much to you. 

His goal wasn’t simply just making Christmas special. 

For the both of you, he wanted to create another memory. A memory that you would remember even down the long run. 

He wanted to make your Christmas special. 

He wants to be the first to do that with you.

Even if it meant absolutely going full out. 

As he stood up from the floor, Woonhak looked at the reality of the entire situation. He only just noticed the mountain of plastic filled bags he had surrounding him. 

He wasn’t really sure if you two needed everything. In fact, if anything, he was more painfully aware that most of these items were excessive. But, he couldn’t ignore the thought of getting a little bit of extra decorations—like the extra box of ornaments or the extra set of twinkly lights was just calling his name every single time.  

Even with the slight overwhelming feeling creeping up on him, the doorbell rang.

Both Woonhak and Sungho froze, making brief eye contact before their heads snapped toward the door at the same time. Their eyes had widened in unison as if that sudden noise could only mean one thing.  

Sungho scrambled toward the door, pressing his eye closer to the peephole. Meanwhile, Woonhak fumbled for his phone, instantly swiping up his notifications center at lightning speed. 

No messages from you.

Thank goodness.

“I think it’s just an order!” Sungho called out, turning to look at Woonhak who let out a breath he'd been holding and stepped forward. 

As he opened the door,  the massive brown box sitting horizontally in the entryway took up nearly the entire threshold. 

This was definitely not going to be easy to bring in.

Instantly turning back, Woonhak flashed a Sungho grin so wide that it undoubtedly creeped Sungho out. 

“What do you want from me now?” Sungho asked, his voice laced with dread as his gaze kept switching back from Woonhak’s unsettlingly pleased expression to the box outside of his place. 

“Help me, obviously,” Woonhak scoffed, turning his back on Sungho before he could bicker away again. The tactic worked like a charm; instead of hearing Sungho try to lecture him once more, he heard footsteps approaching right behind him. 

“Well, it shouldn’t be that difficult right?” Sungho muttered, stepping outside the door to lift the long box. He scanned the narrow entryway, making sure that once he lifted it up, it wouldn’t knock anything else present. 

Then he shot Woonhak another look, one eyebrow arching as he stared at him. “Are you going to help me or just stand there and watch?”  

Woonhak blinked right back at him, completely unbothered. After a brief moment, he crouched down, allowing his fingers to slip under the cardboard edge to also help lift the box. “Honestly? The latter sounds really good now.” 

Sungho groaned under his breath. “I swear, if you weren’t doing all this for someone you’re stupidly in love with—”

“Lift on three,” Woonhak cut in quickly, ears slightly heating up. 

They both paused, fixing their hand positions before inhaling. 

“One… two… three—”

The box was finally lifted, but it was not graceful. Sungho had straightened himself up properly with perfect controlled effort. Woonhak, on the other hand, nearly tipped backward before he found his footing, his arms wobbling along with him.

“Are you holding it or just letting me do the work?” Sungho hissed under his breath. 

“I am holding it!” Woonhak slightly snapped, though the way he adjusted his grip for like the fourth time in ten seconds made that questionable. 

They somehow shuffled forward, one awkward step at a time. 

The box would hit the doorframe. 

It would scrape the floor. 

Then hit the opposite wall. 

“Please tell me,” Sungho muttered between gritted teeth, “tell me you didn’t get the biggest size.” 

“I literally got the medium,” Woonhak defended. 

“This is not medium.” 

“Well, maybe—just maybe it just came in a bigger box!”

Sungho paused just long enough to glare at him. “You clearly bought the biggest one.”

“Even so, what’s wrong with that?” Woonhak muttered. 

They would continue their clumsy moves into the living room, the box finally being placed down in the center of the chaos of the filled bags for Christmas decorations. 

“I’m leaving this all to you to assemble.” Sungho straightened, rolling his shoulders back with a muffled groan. “You better hope this is all worth it.” 

“It is,” Woonhak said without hesitation—though the lingering doubt that still remained from earlier still hovered in the back of his mind. 

Woonhak didn’t have the time to overthink or handpick what he should get rid of because they seemed “too much”. You had actually texted not long ago that you’d be arriving soon during this whole process, and suddenly everything felt like it was sinking in. So, instead of going down in a further spiral, he would push out the still sulking Sungho out of his home, still muttering a quick but genuine “thanks” for the help—even after teasing him practically the entire time he was here.

Once the door had clicked shut behind Sungho, the atmosphere in the apartment fell into the tense quiet kind that made Woonhak more hyperaware of each scattered bag. To pretend like he wasn’t panicking about absolutely everything, he hurriedly attempted to make it seem more organized. 

Soon enough, Woonhak’s ears perked up at the doorbell. 

This time, the sound wasn’t entirely alarming. 

Woonhak knew well that this time, you would be the one behind the door. 

He rushed over immediately, barely giving himself a second to breathe before swinging it open, instantly breaking into a grin the moment he saw you. You matched his smile, lifting a small plastic bag in your hand. 

“I made some tiramisu for us.”

“Oh, you’re perfect,” he blurted out, unable to hold back the soft gush in his voice. He stepped aside, ushering you inside so you didn’t have to stand out there anymore. As you slipped off your shoes, Woonhak gently took your scarf and hat, setting them aside on his clothing rack. 

But his breath got caught when he noticed you freezed. 

Your eyes lingered on the mountain of shopping bags all gathered in the center of the floor. The unopened Christmas tree box still laid in the same position when the other two had brought it in.

“I know the room looks a little messy right now,” he said quickly, rushing forward as if blocking your view would somehow help you from registering the sight in front of you. “But it’ll look better once we get everything sorted out. Promise.”

His voice was cautious yet hopeful as he tried to read your own expression. Despite feeling like he knows you, he still braced for judgement—but hoping for anything else but that. 

“You remembered?” your voice softened, your eyes finding his. 

“You… you know what all of this is for?” Woonhak asked, his own voice growing quiet but still carrying a hint of surprise. He held a look that showed that he was waiting for you to say that somehow all this planning might’ve been too much. 

“Well, yeah,” you laughed lightly, the sound now easing the built up tension in his shoulders. You pointed towards the bags with a few stray decorations already peeking out. “It’s pretty obvious we’re decorating something.” 

Woonhak blinked at you, almost like he was acting like you wouldn’t catch on so easily. Or maybe he was just shocked that you did—but weren’t teasing him for it. 

“Right,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know… I just wanted it to be special. I was going to assemble the tree before you got here, but I was too excited when I already heard that you’d be on your way.” 

You stepped closer, grabbing his hands. “Woonhak,” you said with a small smile, “the fact that you remembered and went through with all of this already makes it special.” 

Woonhak’s eyes couldn’t help but soften—completely and helplessly. 

“I’m glad I’ll be getting to spend Christmas with you,” he confessed in a hushed tone, cheeks already flushing as if the words slipped out before he could catch them. 

“Well, if you say so,” you teased lightly, brushing past him toward the mountain of bags, crouching to peek inside one of them. “We should probably start with the most important thing, right?” 

Woonhak nodded, immediately grabbing a box cutter to start assembling the tree. He’s never assembled a tree on his own before, but he hoped the ten minute Youtube tutorial he watched at double speed last night would magically benefit now. 

As he sliced the box open, the contents already instantly poured out in a tangled mess of the metal parts and branches. 

His confidence definitely wavered for a second. 

From where you crouched, you glanced up at him due to the source of the noise. Your attention on the pack of ornaments vanished when you caught the sight of Woonhak frowning at a paper pamphlet with the instructions.

“Do you need help?” 

“No—I got this,” he said with instant determination, straightening his back from his own crouching position. He wanted the tree ready before you touched a single thing, wishing to prepare this tree as the perfect blank canvas for you to go all out with your own ideas.

“Totally got this,” he added, eyeing down the instructions once more. 

Instead of questioning him any further, you bit back a smile, choosing instead to go through another bag of decorations so you wouldn’t distract him too much. 

But, the silence was just too tempting. 

“You sure?” 

Woonhak didn’t look up. “It’s fine. This is easy. This should be easy.” 

You raised a brow as he flipped the pamphlet upside down, then right up up again, eyes flickering back and forth from the paper to the actual tree assembling. 

“Uh-huh,” you said along with a small chuckle following up afterwards. 

He cleared his throat, refusing to even acknowledge how the way your laugh made the tips of his ears redden. His focus surged once more as he pulled the bottom section of the tree into the base, slotting it until he heard a click. He would tighten the eyebolt, making sure that it stayed in place. 

He did glance over at you—just for a second—to see if you noticed. 

And you did. 

“That looks sturdy,” you praised as you watched him. “Good job.” 

“Told you I’ve got this,” he smirked—far too confident for someone who did not have a clear vision of what he was supposed to do. The confidence definitely arrived a little too soon. The tree was not fluffing up the way he wanted it to; instead of the lush, it looked like an extremely sad and stiff tree. 

He tried fixing it before you looked over, frantically moving at the branches to achieve the look he had pictured in his head. But, when he glanced up and caught your eye, it was already too late. 

“...It’s a part of the process,” he rushed to say, as if that explained everything. 

“Maybe I should help,” you said gently—just that soft understanding you always seemed to have. Instead of laughing, you scooted closer, allowing your knees to brush against his, settling next to him on the floor. 

Even though you’ve never done this before, you reached for the branches and began fluffing them. From the bottom alone, there was already some kind of shape forming. Within seconds, with the volume of the tree, it started looking like the one from the tutorial he swore he managed to remember perfectly. 

“See?” you said quietly, looking over to the boy’s expression that was mesmerized by how quick you managed to do all of that.

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost shyly. “Maybe we can do it together.”

You smiled, and it was the warm kind, the kind that was so familiar. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” 

Woonhak’s cheeks warmed up again, yet this time he didn’t look away. 

“Yeah,” he admitted, his previous confidence melting into something more earnest.  “I guess it is.” 

With that alone, the two of you instantly felt into an easy rhythm. The silence that had once filled the room earlier softened into light chatter, which transformed into shared laughter—Woonhak stealing glances at you after every joke he made, and you chuckling at almost anything that had slipped out of his mouth. 

Even though you two were only assembling the tree, Woonhak felt like this was already the beginning of something special. He believed that the moment you walked through his door, it was the moment that Christmas had already started.

And he hoped you felt the same way too.

If he had been doing this alone, he knew it would’ve taken him ages. But with you by his side, you two instantly worked at equal pace—naturally, and almost effortlessly so. 

“It looks good to me,” Woonhak said, stepping back to admire the three you both had but together. “What do you think?”

“I think so too,” you replied, your face brightening with the same gleam he’d wish to see everyday. It was the one where you’d get whenever something genuinely excited you. In an instant, you hurried back to the bags, lifting a couple toward him with both hands. 

“I think it’s the perfect time to start decorating!”

Now, it was his turn to laugh, but it was the soft, endearing kind. The kind of giggle that slipped out when he’s just genuinely admiring the person in front of him. 

He followed your excitement, gathering a couple of the bags and sliding them closer to the perfectly placed tree in the corner of his living room. The two of you stood side by side, staring at the ornaments, lights, ribbons, and all the miscellaneous decorations he absolutely didn’t need all out but bought them anyway. 

“Now, where do we even start?” he asked, his voice half-thrilled, half-terrified as he took in the sight of everything again. 

You tried starting back leaning over to one bag to pull out the fairy lights—only to pull out a tangled mess of it instead. 

“I think…” you tried stifling a laugh, but you couldn’t as the lights dangled. “This might’ve been your first mistake.”

“I didn’t even do anything yet!” his voice echoed, along with a dramatic gasp following it. 

“You bought them,” you teased, swinging the knotted lights around. 

“That hurts, you know,” he said dramatically while pressing his hand to his heart. Despite that act, he was already moving beside you, sitting cross-legged on the floor to help untangle one end of the disaster as you did the other one. 

It only took him a minute to somehow have his fingers stuck between the wires. 

“Don’t pull—wait, wait!” his voice boomed with panic, trying to get his fingers out as you stood momentarily frozen by the situation. “Okay, okay. Maybe pull a little that—no, not that way!” 

You burst into laughter as he shrieked, his expression twisting into instant betrayal. “Are you really laughing at my suffering?”

“Well, yes,” you said without an apology, leaning closer to carefully free his hand yourself, “but only because you look cute when you’re struggling with things like these.” 

“Um—you—well, okay,” he mumbled in defeat, his voice cracking on the last word. 

Once the lights were finally untangled, he stood up triumphantly with a proud grin. But before taking a single step toward the tree, he paused to look at you to show how he wanted your opinion first. 

You reached into one of the bags, putting out two sparkling bundles of tinsel. As the red and silver tinsels were in your hands, you stated, “Tinsels first, then the lights.” 

Woonhak nodded eagerly, setting the fairy lights aside. “Tinsels first,” he repeated, grabbing one of the tinsels from your hands before making his way to the tree with purpose. 

You followed right behind him, already wrapping the tinsel around one of the branches. He copied your movements, trying to not get into your way while you’re wrapping on your side—which caused his tinsel to look shift a little too much. But, you always helped him adjust it afterwards, allowing your shoulders to touch. 

Halfway through putting the first decorations, you both stepped back at the same time, looking at the tree with the tinsels finally all up. 

“I think it’s already starting to look good,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder. 

“I think so too,” his eyes lingered briefly on the tree before drifting back to you, already glowing with pride over the half finished product. “But, we still have a long way to go.” 

You agreed and practically scurried back, digging through the bags instantly. Woonhak would peek over your shoulder, grabbing the boxes of ornaments you pull out so you can continue going through whatever he bought. 

As you get everything ranging from frosted white glass baubles to glossy red ornaments, you two both on opposite sides of the tree start decorating. There were moments where you ended up getting in each other’s way, instantly playfully bickering about who was on that side first. 

During the process, you would circle around the tree and occasionally sneak glances back at him. You watched as Woonhak would carefully space out the ornaments apart, having him bite his lip slightly in concentration. 

Every now and then, he’d pause and back back to check if it looked good even from a distance. Much contrast to his words before, he was doing better than expected. You ended up slipping the odd ornaments towards the back of the tree, catching the attention of Woonhak. 

As he was about to comment, the facial expression on your face was enough to shut him up, making him allow you to do your own thing. After all, this experience was meant to cater towards you—so if you wanted a randomly large gingerbread cookie ornament to take up the space, he would gladly work around it to make it stand out. 

The more you two decorated, the more your steles would mesh together. Gradually, the tree would gradually turn into the best blend of his careful placements with your carefree ones. 

By the time the last ornament was on the last empty branch, you both stepped back once more, finally admiring the fully decorated tree. 

The branches were filled with the tinsels, the faintly glowing lights, and the combination of the ornaments made it look better than what you two had initially imagined. 

But there was only one thing that remained.

The golden star. 

You took the chance to lift it out of the box, eyeing Woonhak as you had it in your hands. His expression softened immediately and without saying anything, he walked closer. His hands overlapped with yours, his fingertips grazing yours as he held the star with you. 

“Ready for the finishing touch?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

As you two inched closer, you two had both stepped onto the stools he had nearby just for this moment. Lifting it together, he steadied the star once you had guided the piece into place. For a moment, both of your hands stayed there, pressed close, warm feeling against warm. 

The star gleamed perfectly, leaving both of you to have matched awe. 

“Woonhak,” you whispered, allowing your arm to now interlock with his. “It looks beautiful.” 

As much as the tree was really beautiful, he didn’t find himself looking at it. 

He wasn’t paying much attention at the vibrant tinsels, the bright lights, the shiny ornaments, or the glowing star you two placed together. 

He found himself looking at you. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, admiring something else instead. “It really does.”

And you caught him instantly. The way he was staring at you said everything he didn’t have to. By trying to play it off, you nudged him gently, which the smile tugging at your lips gave away how much that made you flustered. He laughed, and you joined him, which the laughter would quickly turn into something more lovestruck. 

“Thank you so much for doing this Woonhak,” you said, finally taking the chance to express what had been swelling in your chest the whole night. “I already have a feeling that this Christmas is really going to be special. And I’m really glad you’re my first for making this holiday already feel so perfect.” 

His breath hitched, feeling the impact of those words land on him. His fingers would slide to intertwine with yours fully, allowing his thumb to brush lightly over the back of your hand. 

“And I’ll always be here,” he said, his gaze settling on you with a sincerity that instantly made your heart skip. “For many more years to make this holiday always perfect for the both of us.” 

The glow from the Christmas tree in the corner of the room wrapped around you both, making this moment even more cherishable. 

Everything made this a moment you knew you both would remember. 

“Woonhak,” you whispered again, this time softer, turning your gaze back to the tree. You leaned your own head on his shoulder, and he immediately tilted his own to rest against yours as he hummed in acknowledgment for you to continue speaking. 

“I’m really happy.” 

His grip on your hands tightened, showing how grateful he was. 

“Me too,” he said, warmth filling his tone. “More than you know.” 

Along with the tree glowing and your fingers intertwined in the quiet warmth of his apartment, Christmas was already starting to feel like home. 

That was when everything started to settle in. 

He was the first. 

The first person that you ever decorated a Christmas tree with. 

And to him, that meant so much more than he knew how to put it into words. 

Everything helped him to understand how important he found first times to be. It wasn’t simply just something special—it was something precious as well. 

And Woonhak was truly—deeply—happy to be the one to be sharing it with you.

‘💬’ ─ I LOVE WOONHAK 💔😭💔😭💔😭💔

he graduated the past spring, having taken on a job as a gym trainer as he searches for something more aligned with his major. but also, he just wanted to stay close to you in the mean time, having met you on campus through a mutual organization. he never thought he would’ve gotten a chance with you, but here you both are, living together 2 years into the relationship.

“what do you want for dinner, baby?” you hear your boyfriend call out, him on his phone as he looks up recipes. he’d been very into making meals related to the holidays recently, saving whatever he comes across while scrolling through his reels. cooking has been one of his favorite activities so far, and having you taste his food made him even happier.

you just hum back at him, still focused on taking down notes on the purposes of every register in the CPU (you’re still wondering why you need to know these nitty gritty details as you do so).

chuckling, sungho gets the memo. ‘i’m busy, anything is good.’ that’s what the humming means, so that’s what he does, ending up making a simple meal you can have at your desk. at least this way, he can make sure that you’re not living off of instant noodles and coffee everyday. and he’s saving the other recipes for the last day before you leave to go back home for the holidays, hoping he can make it a good start to your break.

there are only 3 more weeks until the end of the semester, and you’re finally starting to feel the weight of your endless assignments and exams lift off your shoulders. you only had your finals left to take, done with presentations and group projects—the bulk of your stressors.

“will you stay at the library with me today?”

“you want me to, honey?”

you nod as you pack your bag, wrapping the cord of your laptop charger into a neat infinity before putting it in. sungho watches you the whole time, sitting on your desk’s chair as he waits. and once you’re done, you both head out to his car.

usually, he drops you off before heading back home to make dinner or going to work. but on the rare occasions you want him by your side, he obliges. it’s hard not to when he loves watching you study, eagerly listening when you need to explain something to him to get a concept.

after a quick car ride, you both arrive at the library, the blond grabbing your bag for you so you didn’t have to carry it yourself. he knows how your shoulders have been aching from the weight of your laptop, too heavy because of how you had bought one before college started based on what was recommended. you can’t say you regret it though (she’s your baby, basically), apart from the inevitable pain that comes after walking around campus and back all day.

the library is bustling with energy as you both walk in, sungho holding your hand as the other held onto the strap of your bag. following behind you into the familiar building, he reminisced the times he studied at the library too. he remembered the late night stays as he watched you code a project while he wrote down flashcards of information to study for his own exams, not to mention the amount of caffeine consumed between the two of you amidst the subpar convenience store food. he spent a lot of time here until he didn’t have to, but being by your side like that felt peaceful to him. and he’s glad he can still support you with simply his presence.

making your way to the uppermost floor, you recited your plan for the day to him as he listened to you attentively. he loved seeing how determined you got, ready to conquer your work as the doors opened up to the quiet atmosphere of your favorite study spot.

another day of endless studying, and this time, you had your boyfriend with you.

sungho got determined to plan the perfect day for you. he’s been seeing you work tirelessly to finish your work, the semester finally coming to an end as the weeks move closer to the holidays.

the numerous projects and exams you had to take were all you could focus on, barely having time to spend with your boyfriend. even though he didn’t ask to spend as much time together, knowing you were busier than ever, it still hurt you to deny him on the rare occasions he did. still, you were grateful that he sat by your side and did his own work while you studied whatever the hell computer architecture is…

“babe, this has got to be the most annoying class i’ve had to take. like come on! i’d rather code than study the parts of the CPU for the umpteenth time!”

well, sungho would agree, but his major wasn’t anything close to yours. still, he tried his best to sympathize, nodding as he reached over to you. he soothingly rubbed your back as he peeked at the presentation you’d been studying out of. “well, you’re almost done! your exam for this class tomorrow is the last one right? and then you’ll be free for the rest of the month, so just keep at it. you can do it baby,” he leaned forward, kissing your shoulder.

now he had to make sure you’d have the best day post-exam.

ever since dropping you off, sungho had been waiting outside the building you had your exam in, parked and playing games on his phone. the plan was simple: wait for you finish the exam, drive back to your place, and while you packed for your trip back home for the holidays, he would make you both an early christmas dinner (since you both wouldn’t be spending it together), after which movies and cuddles!

but those plans would’ve had to wait as he recognized your gloomy figure make its way out of the building you merely 30 minutes later.

he got out of the car right away, going up to you as he pulled you into a soft hug.

“what’s wrong, baby? not go well?”

sungho rubbed your arms up and down as he looked at you, your body falling into his as you hugged him back. he felt your head shake against his chest before you looked to the side and pouted.

“come on, let’s get in the car first,” he whispered, letting go of the hug as he kept one arm around your shoulder to help keep you up. you walked slowly until you both reached the door, him opening it to help you get in before getting into the driver’s seat on the other side.

as soon as the door shut and your boyfriend turned to you, you leaned your head back on the headrest and covered your face with your sweater (he picked out a cute one for you to wear, saying “dressing up will get you to perform better—at least that’s what i heard from the psychologists online.”). you tried not to sniffle or cry, but it was hard when all you could remember was the look of horror as you remembered how you didn’t remember the differences between 2 registers.

“that went horribly,” you muttered, groaning into your clothes as you fell forward to put your head on the dashboard. “i should’ve studied harder!”

sungho patted your back, rubbing circles as he tried to soothe you. the lack of continuance from you made him talk then, “hey, don’t beat yourself down. you did the best you could, y/n. you’ve been studying so hard for the exam.”

“yes… but also, i definitely could’ve done better. there’s so much that i mixed up because of the simple 1-letter differences. argh!!! this major is infuriating!!”

despite finding you adorable at the moment, complaining about the number of acronyms and homonyms you had to memorize, the man tried not to let it show, hiding his face away as he closed his lips tightly.

looking up, you kept going, “you know what! if i have to retake this class, then so be it! i’ll simply just drop out and become a housewife and you have to get married to me and make the money and everything!” at that, you looked to the side to see your boyfriend looking out the window, his expression reflecting off the glass. “HEY!!! PARK SUNGHO! WHAT’S SO FUNNY?!”

that was the last thing sungho needed to finally break out into the laughter he had been holding in. “i’m sorry,” he choked out mid laugh, “you’re just too… cute….”

“what’s so cute about me sulking?!” you pouted at him, scrunching your eyebrows to look intimidating.

that only made him laugh more, head falling back and hitting the glass which made you break as well, a smile appearing on your face as you hid it from him.

at that, he got the hand that was on your back to bring your face to look back at him. “don’t hide your smile from me. if i can make you happy, that’s what matters.”

“don’t be so cheesy, i’m still sad about my exam,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up from his words. no matter how long it had been, he still had this effect on you, and it drove you crazy every time.

clearing his throat, sungho put on his ‘serious mode’ as he grabbed both your hands to hold. “ok princess, what can i do to make you feel better?”

sungho held your hand all the way back home, a mere 10 minute drive from the college. it was quiet, your usual music not being played as you simply sat and thought about how you were done for the semester. no more projects or exams to worry about, no more homework to finish, no more staying up to study until the tiredness caught up to you. it was an odd feeling, because you still had to wait for grades to be uploaded. but apart from that, there wasn’t anything else to do.

once parked, your boyfriend came out to open the door for you, holding his hand out and bowing a bit as he called you “princess,” closing the door behind you after you came out grabbing the extended hand with a giggle.

“what do you want tonight? anything special?”

“anything will do, baby.” you smile up at him as you both walked to your place.

the smell of cherries and oranges hit your nose as you opened the door—the newest festive fragrance he had bought in the beginning of the month. you sighed a breath of relief as you entered, turning on the lights and removing your shoes and jacket.

“alright. i’ll be in the kitchen then. call me if you need help with packing ok?” he leaned forward, kissing the back of your head as he did the same after locking the front door.

2 hours later, you were almost done with packing, only having your essentials left to put into your backpack after you got ready for the flight back the next day. you looked up at the clock then, your stomach grumbling as hunger pang and made you remember what your boyfriend had been doing.

walking out, the feast that decorated the table had your jaw drop as sungho came out of the kitchen holding the last dish—just a simple salad—wearing his messy apron. “you’re here!” he exclaimed as soon as his eyes found yours, setting the dish down and undoing the messy apron to hug you.

“i hope you like it all, i’ve been saving recipes to make for so long… i couldn’t help making as many as i could, especially since it’ll be our last meal together for a while.”

“it’s… beautiful,” you exclaimed, looking at the variety. there were only 5 dishes, but between you both, it was plenty of food to last for days. what caught your eye though was the fruitcake, right in the middle on an elevated cake plate.

you remembered telling him a long time ago about how you used to have it for christmas with your family when you were young, the taste of the sweet fruit cutting through the bready loaf deliciously. and you certainly didn’t think sungho would’ve remembered, but the fact that he did, and even went as far as making it for you both, warmed your heart.

next to the cake sat a bowl of gravy, white and speckled with black peppery dots, and biscuits next to it with butter glistening atop. the salad he’d just made was colorful, leafy greens mixing in with pomegranate maroons, as the shades of the festivity shone through a simple dressing. and whether you ate it or not, sungho had to have a meat dish, so a perfectly cooked steak decorated a cutting board, his favorite cranberry jam on the side. last but not least, a home cooked fried rice never went wrong between you both, one of the most comforting meals you’ve come to love simply because of the way your boyfriend makes it.

the combination of foods was a bit odd, but you could sense how much care went into every single item on the table.

“come, sit!” sungho beamed, proud of how much he was able to make while you were busy. he hoped it was enough to cheer you up, but also didn’t want to bring up anything to remind you of how you may have done on your exam hours ago—though he believed you aced it, but he knew better than to insist his thoughts upon you.

you took another moment just to take in the sight, finally sitting down on the chair he had pulled out. “everything looks so good. i can’t wait to dig in.” you paused for a moment, smiling slightly before looking at him. “but baby, you didn’t ha—”

“shh,” he put his finger on your lips to quieten you, “don’t ever say that. how many times do i have to remind you? i want to. so just sit back and relax, eat until you’re full, and then we’re gonna cuddle and watch a movie until we fall asleep, okay?”

you nod, his finger still on you, after which he takes it off. your smile widens as you look at the food, but you saw his love more than anything in it all.

“thank you, sungho.”

“you’re very welcome, y/n.” he smiled too. “now eat! the movie isn’t going to wait for us!”

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A/N: hi guys! so idk much about christmas, but i tried to include what i could... i had to ask rosy @taestulipss for help (THANK YOU SO MUCH) 😭 nonetheless, i hope you guys enjoyed this fic as you all have been (hopefully) enjoying the rest of them as they get released. and with mine, comes the end of step 2! look forward to step 3 💗 also check out the main collab masterlist for fics you may have missed ^^

TAGLIST: @lovehakie @taestulipss @nanaluvsyouu @beomtomie

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DIVIDERS BY: snowfall gif by @junabuggy, gift wrapper by @strangergraphics, christmas tree line by @cursed-carmine, ending wreath by @diviniyae, banner by @astrae4!

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