#partially proofread

You may not have to eat, sleep, or do anything at all, but not being able to engage with anyone surely wears on you after a certain amount of time. You were even starting to long for mundane things like small talk. And that said a lot.

What would you give for a cashier wishing you a nice day? A passer-by bumping into you and mumbling an apology before vanishing into the stream of people walking down the sidewalk? A single sign of acknowledgement from the man so keen on pretending you're not there...

A frustrated groan startled you out of your thoughts. Ford leaned back in his chair, glasses in one hand, the other sliding across his face.

"I would like to understand as to why... exactly you are doing this to yourself. You clearly aren't staying up to keep doing something, no. You keep doing something, anything really, to stay up. Why?" You could've sworn you saw the corner of his mouth tugging downwards at you speaking up once again. It really wasn't your intention to upset the man, it just so happened that your entire existence seemed to upset him.

"Look, you don't want me here, I understand. But you're the only one who can see me! Believe me, if there was someone else, I would be talking to them, but I can't!" Ford kept his hand on his face, silent as ever. "I would really like to do you the favour of leaving you alone, but unfortunately for you, you're just as much part of this as I am. And I won't stop trying everything in my power to get me out of here!" Slowly but surely his behaviour was getting to you. What was his problem?! How could he be so indifferent?!

After a moment of - again - no visible reaction from Ford, you frowned. "What, did you fall asleep, old man? Am I boring you that much?"

If he was going to keep this behaviour up, your despair would soon turn into anger. And you didn't want to know what would happen if the only physical thing around, you could let out your anger on, was yourself.

-

"I won't stop trying everything in my power to get me out of here!" Your words echoed in his mind. Now this started to sound a little more familiar...

Your choice of words and following taunting brought him very close to just lashing out at you. He could feel the anger boil up at him, almost as if your annoyance and frustration were contagious. Then again, indulging in the tricks of his mind might just make it worse. So he took a deep breath and then another. He felt himself becoming drowsy, darkness clouding the edge of his conscious thoughts.

He jerked up. No! Don't fall asleep! Don't give in!

"This is so not healthy..." he heard you mumbled from somewhere behind him.

Ford was quite sure that hallucinating someone talking to him also qualified as "not healthy". He abandoned the thought right then and there. No point in psychoanalysing himself, it would only lead to self-loathing and regret. Two things that he already had enough of to begin with.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 comments & reblogs are appreciated series masterlist

a/n: excuse me rq while i go insane over figuring out the actual plot and timeline of this story

Before they knew it, Christmas eve finally came and Peyton had a good feeling about tonight.

The evening snow dusted the streets of Seoul in a quiet hush, settling over roads and lampposts, rooftops capped in white like gingerbread houses brushed with sweet icing. The city glowed softly beneath it all, lights blurred by falling flakes.

Everything felt… right.

She bounded down the stairs two at a time, excitement making her pink locks bounce with each step. One hand fumbled with the ends of her plaid pink scarf as she wrapped it around her neck, already halfway out the door.

“Mom, Dad! I’m heading out!” she called, slipping past the living room—

Only to be stopped abruptly.

A hand caught the edge of her scarf just in time.

“Hoooold it right there, young lady.”

The low voice startled her enough to freeze. Ethan gently turned her back around by the shoulders, eyes narrowing in inspection. His brows furrowed in that all-too-familiar worried dad expression. “You need to make sure," he said, already adjusting the scarf with practiced hands, “that you’re tucked in nice and warm.”

“Dad,” Peyton groaned lightly, though she stayed still.

His hands stilled when his gaze dropped to her face, a small sigh escaping him. He reached up and ruffled her hair, earning an immediate protest.

“Wh—hey!” The pink haired girl complained as she attempted to swat away her father's meddling hands.

Ethan chuckled, the sound deep and fond, yes softening as he looked at her—those eyes no longer young, but warm with years of care and concern. “Worth it,” he said simply.

Then, as if remembering something important, he reached behind.

“You," he searched the counter top of the dresser, "forgot these.”

The former turned around as he dangled a pair of white, puffy earmuffs in front of her.

Peyton gasped softly, realization hitting her all at once. “Oh—right…”

“Mhm.”

Ethan shook his head with a quiet huff as he lifted the earmuffs and settled them over her ears, adjusting them until they sat just right. “I know you like this boy,” he said casually, adjusting them until they sat just right, “but if spending time with him gets you sick, I may have to consider preventative measures.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Drastic ones.”

Peyton rolled her eyes. “Dad, relax. We talked about this.” She crossed her arms, breath puffing visibly in the cold air.

He straightened, laughter bubbling up as he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying—” he shrugged, “My little jellybean isn’t freezing to death because she forgot how cold weather works while thinking about some guy.”

She clicked her tongue, not quite hiding her smile. “He’s not just some guy. It’s Naosuke.” A pause. “…And you said you liked him.”

Ethan laughed outright, shoulders shaking. “I do! Doesn’t mean I won’t tease you about it.” He patted her head—then ruffled it again.

“Daaad—come ooonnn,” she protested, swatting his hand away as both of them laughed.

Their banter was cut short by a soft clearing of a throat.

“Well,” came a familiar, amused voice, “aren’t you two lively tonight.”

Hee-su leaned against the doorway, arms loosely crossed, warmth dancing in her eyes as she took in the scene before her. Her gaze lingered on Peyton for a moment longer, her smile gentle—knowing, even.

She tilted her head slightly, then nodded toward the entryway.

“I think,” she said lightly, “someone’s been waiting for you outside.”

The words landed quietly.

Peyton’s breath hitched. And for just a second, the world seemed to pause—snow falling somewhere beyond the door, a night waiting patiently to begin.

.

.

.

The cold breeze brushed against him, sharp enough to sting as snowflakes melted on contact with the warmth radiating from his skin. Naosuke exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him in pale clouds that lingered in the frosty air.

Ruby-red eyes wandered idly as he waited, a bouquet tucked carefully behind his back. Pink camellias. Soft, understated, and familiar. They always made him think of her.

The sound of shifting locks pulled his attention back to the door. A faint shuffle followed, the Christmas wreath trembling slightly as it moved.

Naosuke straightened immediately.

Gloved hands adjusted the red scarf around his neck, posture squared as he prepared himself—ready to be greeted by his favorite smile.

Instead, the door opened to reveal a tall, middle-aged man. A soft stubble lined Ethan Bates. He cocked an eyebrow, gaze sharp but not unkind.

“Good evening, Mr. Bates,” Naosuke greeted smoothly, bowing his head politely. A warm smile settled easily on his lips, even as he subtly adjusted his grip on the flowers behind his back.

Ethan nodded in return, "You're early," he pointed out, expression stern but relaxed enough to hint at good spirits. The subtle tug at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

The younger ravenette nodded, "It'd be rude of me to make your daughter wait too long." He replied, the warm smile still displayed contently across his face.

For a moment, silence lingered.

Then—

“Dad,” Peyton’s voice chimed in from somewhere behind him. Her smaller frame was almost completely hidden by her father’s broad shoulders. “You’re blocking the door.”

“I know,” Ethan replied easily, not moving an inch. “Just need to make sure of something.”

He turned his attention fully to Naosuke now, arms crossing loosely. “You’ve been tutoring my daughter all semester,” he began. “Never had any complaints. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Naosuke nodded. “I do my best, sir.”

“So,” he began, folding his arms, “this is the first time you’ve asked my daughter out somewhere that isn’t a study session.”

Naosuke didn’t falter. He nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

“And this,” Ethan continued, eyes sharp but curious, “isn’t just a ‘group thing’ that somehow turns into you two wandering off alone?”

“No, sir,” Naosuke said honestly. “Just the two of us.”

“And what is it about, then?” Ethan asked.

Naosuke inhaled once, steady and composed. “Spending time with Peyton. Making sure she enjoys herself. And bringing her home safely.”

Simple, honest, and not overreaching.

A pause.

“And you’re aware she gets cold easily?”

Naosuke almost smiled. “I brought extra hand warmers,” he replied, matter-of-fact. “And I checked to make sure the market has indoor stalls if it gets too chilly.”

Ethan studied him closely.

“Phone charged?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Crowded areas?”

“I won’t let her out of my sight.”

Another pause—then Ethan’s gaze flicked briefly downward. That’s when he noticed it.

The flowers.

He hummed softly, expression finally easing.

Behind him, Peyton groaned. “Dad. . .”

Ethan glanced at his watch, then stepped aside just enough for the door to open fully. “Well,” he said, adjusting the strap, “the fireworks start at a quarter to twelve.”

Naosuke straightened instinctively.

“If you’ll allow me to have her until then,” he said carefully, sincerity clear in his tone, “perhaps a little later. I promise to bring her home safely right after."

He paused, then added softly, eyes flicking toward Peyton behind him.

“That is. . . only if she’ll have me.”

Ethan huffed a quiet laugh, stepping aside at last. “Guess I won’t be standing in the doorway all night, then." A smile tugged at his lips, unmistakable now.

“Go on,” he said, glancing back at Peyton. “Have fun.”

Peyton stepped forward at last.

The cold kissed her cheeks immediately, but she barely noticed. Her eyes had already found him.

Standing just beyond the doorway, posture straight despite the snow settling softly on his coat. For a second, the ravenette simply looked at her—pink scarf, earmuffs slightly uneven, eyes bright in the porch light.

Then she noticed his hands.

Or rather… what he’d been hiding.

Naosuke shifted slightly, clearing his throat. “Ah—before we go,” he said, voice calm despite the way his pulse thudded loud in his ears. He brought his hands forward, revealing the bouquet he’d kept tucked safely behind his back.

The camellias.

For a moment, Peyton just stared.

Her breath hitched, fingers hovering like she wasn’t quite sure she was allowed to touch them. “Naosuke. .” she whispered, awe slipping through her voice before she could stop it.

“I—” He paused, then continued, tone gentle, almost careful. “I thought you might like them.” A beat. “If not, that’s okay too.” His gaze flicked briefly away, then back again.

“Figured I should give them to you. Before it gets too cold.”

She took them from him, hands trembling just a little as she cradled the bouquet close. The petals were soft, warm from where he’d been holding them, their color vivid against the snow.

“They’re perfect,” she said quietly, eyes shining. “thank you.”

Naosuke nodded once, the faintest smile tugging at his lips, something soft. He didn’t say anything else—but the way his eyes stayed on her said enough.

Behind them, Ethan watched the exchange with folded arms, expression unreadable. Until Hee-su nudged him gently with her elbow.

“See?” she murmured, just loud enough. “Sweet.”

Ethan huffed quietly, but there was no missing the way his expression softened. “Mhm,,, I see it.”

Peyton lingered just a moment longer, then reluctantly turned back toward the door. She hesitated, then handed the flowers carefully inside, making sure they were safe before stepping back out.

Peyton turned back toward her parents, cheeks pinker than the cold alone could explain. “W-we’ll be back later," she informed.

“Be safe,” Her mother called softly.

“I will,” Peyton replied, then hesitated—before adding, “Promise.”

Hee-su nodded “Stay warm,” she replied gently.

“And don’t forget,” Ethan added, pointing lightly, “text when you get there.”

Peyton nodded quickly. “I will. Love you.”

She slipped back out moments later, scarf snug, hands tucked into her sleeves.

Naosuke waited on the sidewalk, hands tucked into his coat pockets. When she reached him, he glanced back toward the house and offered the Bates a respectful nod.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Ethan met his gaze, steady and approving. Though quickly melted into a soft grin, “I know you will.”

Peyton smiled shyly, waving once more before joining Naosuke at his side. As the door closed behind them, snow continued to fall and the night opened wide. Soft, quiet, full of promise.

And Naosuke turned to Peyton, the quiet between them warm with everything that had yet to be said.

.

.

.

The streets bustled with people and light, the air rich with the scent of warm cocoa and sweet spices drifting from nearby stalls. They hadn’t even reached the market yet, and still—Christmas had already found them.

Their walk was quiet. Not the awkward kind, but the easy sort, where small talk slipped naturally between steps and silence never felt heavy. With every block they passed, comfort settled in deeper, woven into the simple fact that they were walking side by side.

“So,” Peyton started, glancing up at him, a hint of mischief lifting her brow. “You ‘won’t let me out of your sight,’ huh?”

Naosuke hummed in acknowledgment.

“Was that your way of persuading my dad so he wouldn’t start posing for Vogue in the doorway,” she teased, “or were you actually planning on babysitting me all night?” She let out a light giggle.

Naosuke looked over at her mid-step, their eyes meeting. A soft chuckle escaped him. “I know how protective parents can be,” he said. “Trust me—you should see my mom. She worried about me constantly growing up.” He shook his head with a fond smile. “Sometimes she was way too close for comfort. Used to drive me crazy.”

Peyton laughed. “God, do I know how that feels.”

“Right?” He laughed too, relieved by the shared understanding.

A brief pause followed.

“But,” he continued, voice gentler now, “I know it wasn’t easy for her. Growing up, I mean.” He shrugged lightly. “I guess… that was her way of making sure I had an easier life.”

He smiled, tender and sincere. Somehow, he seems more relaxed and open than usual. Which softened a few edges of the tension in the current atmosphere.

Peyton found herself watching him, struck by how grounded he was—how naturally thoughtful. A soft smile bloomed on her lips before she even realized it.

Maybe it was the open road. Or the glow of the streetlights. But something made it easier to speak.

“…My dad,” Peyton said quietly.

Naosuke’s attention shifted to her immediately.

“He’s done so much for me,” she continued, eyes fixed on the sidewalk below. Their footsteps moved in quiet sync. “I don’t even know where I’d be if it weren’t for him.”

She exhaled softly. “Sure, he nags. Gets overprotective. Meddles sometimes…” A small smile tugged at her lips. “But I’m lucky. Really. I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”

Her smile grew brighter as she said it.

Naosuke felt his heart skip—just once—but he stayed quiet, listening. A sense of relief settled over him, calm and steady.

They walked a few more steps in reflective silence.

“By the way,” Naosuke said suddenly, breaking it. “I wasn’t kidding.”

“…Hm?” Peyton blinked. “W—what? About what?”

He stopped walking.

She did too, turning to face him, confusion flickering across her expression.

Naosuke took a moment, just long enough to register how cute she looked when caught off guard, before leaning down slightly to her level.

“About not letting you out of my sight,” he said, a playful smirk curling at his lips as he tilted his head. Peyton swears she felt heat fume comically across her cheeks almost instantly.

“A—”

“Pfffft—” Naosuke broke into laughter, honest and unrestrained. “Why do you look so tense?” he teased, still chuckling. “Relax.”

Peyton stood there, completely flustered, cheeks burning, words stuck somewhere between her heart and her throat—

And she had no idea what she was supposed to say next.

He let the laughter fade naturally, breath evening out as the noise of the street hummed back into place around them. When Naosuke looked at her again, the teasing glint in his eyes had softened—traded for something steadier, quieter.

Peyton looked up.

“I was teasing,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, gaze briefly dropping to the snow-dusted pavement before returning to her.

“But…I meant what I said,” he continued. “About keeping you in sight.” A small pause. “Not because I was told to, but because I want to.”

The streetlights caught in his eyes, warm against the winter chill.

“And,” he added after a beat, voice lower, steadier, “I like knowing you’re nearby.”

The words weren’t dramatic. They didn’t need to be.

Peyton’s breath hitched anyway.

“Oh,” she managed, fingers curling into the ends of her coat. “. . . Okay.”

Naosuke straightened, hands slipping back into his pockets as if nothing monumental had just been said. “C’mon,” he said lightly, nodding ahead where the glow of the market lights spilled into the street. “We’re almost there.”

He took a step forward.

Peyton followed—heart racing, cheeks warm, snow crunching beneath her boots as the night opened up before them.

For a few steps, they walked in comfortable silence.

Then she felt it.

A hesitant brush at her side—barely there. Naosuke’s gloved hand had slipped free from his pocket, his pinky drifting close enough to graze hers.

The contact lingered. Tentatively, like he was testing the space between them

Slowly, almost cautiously, his pinky hooked around hers.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she let her finger curl back, the smallest intertwine—timid, unspoken, but unmistakably there. It felt warm despite the cold, grounding in a way she hadn’t expected.

Neither of them said a word.

They just kept walking, pinkies linked, the glow of the Christmas market drawing nearer with every step—snow falling softly, the moment quietly settling into place like it had always belonged there.

.

.

.

The gates of the market rose before them, lavishly dressed in ribbons and festive lanterns, colored ornaments swaying gently overhead. Banners stretched from stall to stall, threaded with decorative leaves and fairy lights that shimmered softly, as if the whole place were breathing warmth into the winter night.

Every corner glowed.

A winding pathway led straight toward the centerpiece, a towering Christmas tree crowned in gold, lights cascading down its branches like falling stars.

It was beautiful.

Both of them slowed without meaning to. Peyton let out a quiet sigh of admiration, her breath blooming into a pale cloud before dissolving into the frosty air. Her eyes wandered everywhere at once. People laughing, vendors calling out cheerfully, the soft music threading through the crowd. Taking it all in like she was afraid the moment might slip away if she blinked too long.

A few steps behind her, Naosuke found himself less captivated by the market itself.

The warm lights kissed her skin, painting her cheeks pink from the cold as snow drifted down on cue, catching briefly in her hair before melting away. There was something about the way she took it all in quiet wonder and unguarded curiosity that always unraveled him a little.

She looked ethereal.

Without thinking too hard about it, he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening the camera with practiced ease.

“Peyton,” he called softly.

Right on cue, she turned toward him.

Her smile came easy—gentle, honey-warm, reaching all the way to her eyes.

Click.

The sharp snap of the camera broke the moment.

Her dark grey eyes widened. “Wh—hey! No fair, I wasn’t ready!” she protested, stepping toward him in a quick attempt to grab the phone.

Naosuke laughed under his breath, lifting it just out of reach. “No, no, I promise—you look good.”

She huffed, lips pursed in defeat, before peeking at the screen. Her expression softened almost instantly.

It was her.

Captured with care. With intention. The lights behind her blurred into a gentle haze, snowflakes suspended in motion, and right there in the center—her smile, bright and real.

She looked—

“Beautiful,” he muttered before he could stop himself.

Then, meeting her eyes, he added lightly, “Told you.”

Yoo Naosuke, one of these days you’re going to give this poor girl a heart attack.

Peyton swatted his side on instinct, playful but undeniably flustered. “You’re unbelievable,” she mumbled, earning a familiar burst of laughter from him.

After a beat, she tugged gently at the edge of his sleeve. Her gaze dipped away, lips settling into a small pout.

“Let me take one of you,” she said quietly.

He hummed in agreement, stepping back into frame. Peyton pulled out her phone with a nervous little shuffle, gesturing him slightly—

“A little left… no, right—okay, there.” Then pausing, and adjusting again.

Noticing her nerves, Naosuke decided to intervene—by making it worse.

He struck a series of dramatic poses in quick succession. “You’re taking your sweet time, Ms. Photographer. Do make haste—I’ve got a cover to be on~”

She blinked.

Then laughed, bright and unrestrained. “You dork,” she shot back, snapping a few photos as she played along. The laughter faded naturally.

“Okay, okay—serious now,” he chuckled, settling naturally with his hands in his pockets.

She took one last picture.

Click.

Perfect timing.

Peyton glanced at the photo, then her face lit up—small, bright excitement flickering across her expression before hurrying over to him, holding the phone up proudly.

The lighting was dimmer than hers, softer. Snow drifted through the frame as people blurred into the background. A warm yellow hue brushed his pale skin, the red scarf at his neck vivid against the scene. His smile was faint—but unmistakably his.

“Mm,” Naosuke hummed appreciatively. “I’ll say, Bates—you might just put Vogue to shame. Care to share your secrets?”

Her shoulders straightened just a touch, confidence blooming shyly. “I don’t know,” she said, scrunching her nose. “Maybe I could give you a few lessons this time.”

Naosuke’s smirk lingered as he glanced back at the photo, then at her.

“Careful,” he said lightly, tucking his phone away. “If word gets out you’re that good, I’ll have to start booking appointments. Limited slots. Very exclusive.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes—but the way her shoulders relaxed gave her away.

“C’mere,” he added after a beat, quieter now, nodding toward the Christmas tree glowing behind them. “Let’s get one together. For… documentation.”

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, giving her more than enough time to pull away if she wanted to. One arm settled behind her back, not quite touching at first, his hand hovering near her shoulder like he was still asking permission without saying it out loud.

Peyton noticed.

After a beat, she leaned in anyway. Just slightly, enough that her temple brushed the side of his arm, enough to close the gap on her own terms. Naosuke stilled, breath catching so softly it almost went unnoticed.

That was all the answer he needed.

“Ready?” he asked, quieter now.

She nodded, eyes lifting to the screen.

The camera clicked.

Snow fell perfectly on cue, lantern light spilling over them in warm golds and reds. The moment was simple—two figures framed by winter, close but unspoken, comfortable in the shared silence.

He glanced at the photo, then at her.

“Yeah,” he murmured, satisfied. “I like this one.”

Peyton peeked at the screen—and then immediately realized how close they still were.

Too close.

Her cheeks flared pinker than the cold alone could justify as she quickly leaned back, clearing her throat far too loudly. “O-Okay—yeah—uh—good picture!” she blurted, fumbling with her phone as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the market.

Naosuke bit back a smile, heart pounding, pretending very hard not to notice just how warm the night felt despite the snow.

.

.

.

As the night unraveled, everything seemed to melt gently into place. Time moved differently here—unhurried, softened by lights and laughter.

The longer they stayed together, the more it felt like an unspoken promise quietly taking shape.

They drifted from stall to stall, letting the crowd carry them along. The air felt lighter with every step, warmed by easy laughter and quiet sentiment, the kind that didn’t need words to feel full.

They shared hot cocoa, one of them dissolving into laughter while the other, far too focused on the conversation, ended up with a smear of fluffy vanilla cream on his face.

The embarrassment lasted only a second before it turned into something fond, something to remember.

Their walking became a kind of treasure hunt. Pausing, wandering, then doubling back. At one point, they ducked into an indoor stall to escape the bite of the cold, settling at a small table with warm waffles and roasted chestnuts. Outside, winter pressed in hard. But inside, the world shrank to steam curling from mugs and the soft hum of people nearby.

Even through her gloves, her fingers trembled. Almost absentmindedly, without looking at her, he slipped a small heat pack into her palm and closed her hand around it, his larger one cupping hers just long enough for the warmth to bloom. It spread slowly, like a quiet fire. She turned her face away, biting back a smile, and they settled into a comfortable silence that felt earned.

Minutes slipped by.

They wandered into a stretch of local stalls filled with games and prizes, teenagers and young adults crowding the space, energy buzzing and contagious. A glance from him, a gentle nod from her—and suddenly they were laughing louder, moving faster, unrestrained joy wrapping around them both. They played without keeping score, cheered too hard, lost once or twice, won twice as much. In the end, they traded small prizes, custom keychains pressed into each other’s palms like secret tokens.

He studied his quietly, thumb brushing over its edges before lifting it to his lips with a soft sigh of relief, smiling as he tucked it safely into his pocket. He didn’t notice her mirroring the gesture, holding hers close for a moment longer than necessary before slipping it away with care.

Time passed unnoticed.

The town square clock chimed, its hands resting at eleven as people began gathering near the towering Christmas tree at the center of the market. Anticipation hummed through the crowd, voices rising, eyes lifting skyward in wait for the night’s final spectacle.

As they moved through the packed space, he reached out and caught the hem of her sleeve, giving it a gentle tug. She turned just in time to see him motion her closer, slowly guiding her in so they wouldn’t be separated.

“I know a place,” he whispered, that familiar playful grin curving at his lips, the kind she trusted without question.

Confusion fluttered through her, but she followed.

Her heart picked up its pace, nerves threading through the excitement as curiosity pulled her forward, eager to discover what waited just beyond the crowd.

.

.

“No peeking,” Naosuke warned, the words softened by an unfiltered chuckle.

“I’m not. Promise.” Peyton replied, giggling with her eyes squeezed shut. Her arm extended forward as her fingers intertwined with his, letting him guide her somewhere still unknown. With each step, the lively hum of the market dulled behind them, replaced by quieter sounds. Even through closed lids, she could tell the lighting had changed. Something warmer, dimmer, more intimate.

“Hope it’s not too late to ask if you’re a serial killer,” she joked lightly, curiosity lacing her tone more than any real concern.

Naosuke laughed again, easy and unguarded. “Pretty sure Mr. Bates would already be tossing my remains in a dumpster if that were the case.” Peyton snickered, "Actually he'd make sure no one would find you, but fair point." she played along,,, half joking.

Earning a silent grin in respons, Naosuke glanced back to make sure she was still close, still within reach.

She was.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped him before he could stop it. His thumb shifted, rubbing small circles against the back of her hand where their fingers were linked.

Peyton noticed. She didn’t say anything.

They walked a few more minutes until even the last traces of festive noise disappeared, replaced by the hush of night. Snow crunched beneath their steps. Somewhere nearby, grasshoppers chirped faintly, as if even the night were whispering.

Naosuke slowed, then gently guided her by the shoulders, positioning her carefully as he stepped just behind her.

“Okay,” he said softly. “You can look.”

Her eyes opened.

Dark gray orbs widened instantly.

Before her stretched a quiet trail of light, lanterns hanging from bare branches, soft and golden. Small circular candles guiding the way toward a wide frozen pond. The water had long since turned to ice with the first snowfall, now left untouched while the rest of the town gathered at the square. Hidden among trees, sheltered from noise, the place felt like a secret the wind had agreed to keep.

“Naosuke, you—”

She turned just in time to see him holding up two pairs of skates.

“Surprise,” he said with a grin. “And for the record—not a serial killer.”

She smacked his arm lightly, laughing. It was already becoming a habit.

“You’re unpredictable, Yoo Naosuke.”

“And you’re surprisingly easy to convince,” he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Bates—comma—Peyton.”

The way he said her name—careful, deliberate—made her heart stutter.

“So,” he continued, dangling the pink pair that matched her outfit, “what do you say?”

Her enthusiasm wavered just a bit. “I, uh…” She rubbed the back of her neck through her glove. “I’m. . . not really a skater.”

Naosuke studied her for a moment, then smiled softly. He set the skates down and crouched to put on his own. “Good. Then we’re evenly matched.” He glanced up. “For the record, the first two times I tried, I slipped and knocked myself out.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was.” He knelt to lace up his own skates. “Taeshi and Minnie had to drag me back like a wounded animal. Whole thing was humiliating,,, a humbling experience . . .”

Despite herself, Peyton laughed.

“I turned down skating every time after that,” he continued, finishing the second lace before looking up at her. He shuffled closer on his knees and offered her skates carefully, not pushing. “But I figured… third time’s the charm.”

She sighed—defeated, fond. “Is this your way of announcing you’re offering skating lessons now?”

He cackled. “More like a live demonstration of what not to do.” She sat on the nearby bench, watching him untie her shoes before she could even reach down. The gesture still surprises her—but less so now. She was starting to expect his quiet thoughtfulness.

“You’ll be watching me wobble around like a newborn deer.” Naosuke continued whilst chuckling, expecting a laugh from the other.

She hummed thoughtfully, gaze drifting to the top of his head. Snow clung to his dark curls, softening them further.

“Who knows,” she murmured.

Her gloved fingers moved without thinking, brushing gently through his hair. Sweeping some of the chipped snow away.

Naosuke froze mid-motion.

“You might end the night with a degree in figure skating.”

His breath caught.

Heat rushed up his neck, dusting his cheeks and ears a deep rose as he slowly looked up at her. His red eyes were softer than she’d ever seen—tame, stunned, and undeniably flustered.

Peyton realized what she was doing.

She yanked her hand back like she’d touched fire. “Ah—uhm—I—I mean—you had snow in your hair—I was just—”

She trailed off, mortified.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Naosuke cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his head and staring at the ground. “…Your skates.”

“O-oh. Right. Thanks.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The silence lingered. . . then it softened.

Naosuke stood and extended his hand to her. Peyton looked up, hesitant, until he gave her a small, reassuring smile.

He wiggled his fingers slightly. “C’mon,” he said lightly, a teasing lilt returning to his voice. “Worst case scenario, we both fall. Best case? We survive with dignity.”

She laughed despite herself and took his hand.

And just like that, the awkwardness melted—replaced by something easy again, something soft and promising as they stepped toward the ice together.

The ice greeted them with a soft scrape, blades whispering against its frozen surface as they stepped on together.

Peyton wobbled immediately.

A small gasp slipped from her as she instinctively tightened her grip on Naosuke’s hand, fingers curling into his sleeve like it was an anchor. He barely had time to react before his own footing betrayed him—his skates sliding just enough to earn a quiet, deeply offended sound from his throat.

“Oh. Okay. Wow,” he muttered. “Rude.”

She laughed, breathy and bright, the sound carrying in the cold air. “You said you’d survive with dignity.”

“That was an aspirational statement,” he corrected, trying to steady himself. “We are currently in the warm-up humiliation phase.”

They moved slowly after that, cautiously, the kind of careful pace where every small glide felt like a victory. Peyton’s steps were short and deliberate, shoulders stiff with concentration, eyes locked on the ice as if daring it to try something. Naosuke skated just ahead of her, turned slightly so he could keep her in view, his hand still firmly holding hers.

“Try loosening up,” he suggested gently. “You’re fighting it.”

“I don’t trust it,” she replied, suspicious gaze fixed downward. “It’s like it's plotting something . . . I can feel it.”

He huffed a laugh. “You sure that's not just your footing?”

A moment later, her foot slipped.

She made a startled sound, and before either of them could think, Naosuke reached out, catching her by the waist. "Whoa whoa—heey hey hey, I got you I got you," he murmured, instinctive and soft.

They both froze.

His hands were steady at her sides. Peyton’s fingers fisted into his jacket as her balance slowly returned, breath shallow, pulse loud in her ears.

They were close, close enough that pretending it didn’t matter felt impossible.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, then realized how near they were and pulled back just a fraction, cheeks warming. “Yeah. Yeah—thanks.”

Instead of letting go, he adjusted his grip, lighter now, a little more careful. As hesitant as he was, he began skating backward in front of her, guiding her gently.

“Okay,” he said, easy again, like his heart hadn’t just tripped over itself. “We’ll do it like this. If I fall, we fall together.”

“That’s—Yeah, totally reassuring,” she deadpanned.

He shrugged, "Never too late for trust-building exercises.”

She laughed, tension easing as they moved again. Slowly, awkwardly, but together. Somewhere along the way, she realized she wasn’t gripping him as tightly anymore. Her shoulders relaxed. Her steps smoothed out.

“Hey, you’re getting it,” Naosuke said, and there was something quietly proud in his voice.

She glanced up at him, surprised. “I am?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “At least now you’ve stopped looking like the ice personally insulted you.”

She snorted. “Don’t jinx it.”

They drifted farther out, the lantern light reflecting across the ice like spilled gold. Snow began to fall again. Soft, lazy flakes settling into the night. The world felt hushed, like it was holding its breath just for them.

The ice hummed beneath their skates as they kept moving, slow glides turning into something smoother with each pass. Peyton still held onto Naosuke’s hand, but the grip had loosened. Less like lifeline, and more choice-wise.

She tested a longer glide, arms lifting slightly for balance. “Hey,” she said, a note of triumph in her voice, “I didn’t fall.”

Naosuke glanced back, skating backward with exaggerated caution. “Careful. It can hear you.” he joked referring to the ice as if it were alive. And just right on cue, his foot slipped just enough for him to windmill his free arm.

Peyton laughed, bright and unrestrained. “Oh my god. Is this the famous 'third-time’s-the-charm' technique?”

He rolled his eyes in attempts to brush it off. “Wow. Betrayal. From my own student.”

“Student?” She raised a brow. “I think I just surpassed you.”

“Mhm, like you didn't slip a few minutes ago” he replied, mock-offended, then leaned in slightly as he steadied himself again. “and technically, I was the one who brought you here~” he continued, taking credit in a playful manner.

“And yet,” she grinned, skating a little ahead of him now, “I'm not the one wobbling around like a newborn deer~” she teased.

"Oh, how dare you," he skated forward to reach for her.

They circled the pond, laughter trailing behind them in the cold air. Naosuke let go first, testing his balance, then reached out again when Peyton wobbled—only this time, she recovered on her own.

“Look at that,” he said, impressed. “You don’t even need me anymore.”

She slowed, skating beside him. “Don't get too disappointed, I still like having you around.”

The words slipped out easily.

They skated merrily in silence for a few seconds, breath fogging in soft puffs. Snowflakes caught in Peyton’s hair, Naosuke brushed one away with his sleeve without thinking.

“Y'know," he glided, "I don’t usually do things like this,” he said then, almost casually, eyes fixed ahead as he pushed off again.

She looked at him. “Like. . . skating?”

“Like planning,” he clarified. “Like… bringing someone somewhere that matters.” He kept his eyes forward. “I tend to keep things simple. Familiar. It’s easier that way.”

He paused, choosing his words. “But tonight,” he continued, voice calm but thoughtful, “. . . felt right. I guess I wanted to make a memory that wasn’t . . loud. Just something that stays.”

Something I could have just with you. his heart whispered.

They glided side by side now, steps matching.

Peyton considered that, warmth blooming in her chest. “Quiet things do last longer,” she said softly.

He glanced at her then, just briefly. “Yeah.”

She smiled at that, “I don’t usually try stuff I’m bad at,” she admitted, eyes flicking down to the ice. “But… it’s easier when someone’s there. Even if they’re also bad at it.”

Naosuke laughed under his breath. “Hey. I prefer ‘enthusiastically learning.’”

She bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “Sure you do.”

They laughed again, the sound light and unguarded as it carried across the frozen pond, fading into the quiet of the night.

Both of them slowed instinctively.

Naosuke eased them farther toward the center of the pond, skates carving shallow arcs in the ice until they came to a gentle stop. He turned first, guiding Peyton with a careful hand so they faced each other instead of the sky.

Snow drifted between them, slow and weightless. Their breaths fogged the air, mingling in soft clouds that vanished almost as soon as they formed. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The lantern light reflected faintly in Peyton’s eyes, and Naosuke found himself holding still—not because he needed to, but because he didn’t want to break whatever this was.

The world felt quiet. Like it was waiting.

Peyton’s gaze lifted to his, and something in it was quieter than her laughter had been, more honest. Less guarded. Naosuke felt it settle in his chest, steady and undeniable.

Without really deciding to, he leaned in just a fraction.

Nothing rushed nor forced. Just enough to close the space between them.

Peyton’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Every sensible thought scattered at once. She should have moved. Said something. Teased him, maybe. But instead, she stayed—frozen in place, breath caught, eyes flicking briefly to his lips before returning to his gaze.

Naosuke noticed.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth—soft, almost surprised—and then he leaned in, slowly, like he was giving her every chance to pull away.

'Shit shit shit omygodomygodomygod this is really happening', her brain screamed faintly.

She took the chance anyway.

Just as the space between them thinned to almost nothing—

BOOM.

The sky exploded into color.

Fireworks burst overhead in brilliant mixtures of gold and red, streaking across the dark canvas of night and melting into stars. Light reflected off the ice in fractured hues, bathing the pond in sudden warmth and wonder.

Peyton gasped softly, head tilting back.

A small, shared awkwardness lingered between them, lightened by the quiet laughter they both breathed out. Naosuke stilled, breath leaving him in a slow exhale as he followed her gaze upward.

They stood there side by side now, shoulders nearly brushing, watching the display unfold. Followed by the feeling of something unspoken, unfinished, but not lost.

Whatever had almost happened lingered between them, gentle and intact.

There would be time.

For now, the sky burned bright above them, and that was enough.

.

.

.

The walk home was more than pleasant.

They talked about the night in fragments at first—replaying small moments like favorite lines from a movie. The near-falls. The suspicious ice. The way he windmilled his arm like a malfunctioning scarecrow. The way she pretended not to panic when he leaned in.

Their jokes settled easily between them, warm and private.

Eventually the conversation drifted to the rest of the year. Plans of going back to their hometowns. Of relatives who would ask too many questions. Of volunteering, of winter traditions, of quiet resets before spring. Plans that felt both distant and suddenly very close.

The street was nearly empty, but it didn’t feel lonely. The world seemed to exist only in the stretch of sidewalk they occupied. Streetlamps cast a soft amber glow over the snowy pavement, stretching their shadows long and close together.

It felt simple.

It made sense.

And like winter wind slipping past unnoticed, time moved faster than either of them realized. Before long, the familiar porch of the Bates residence came into view. It's presence was quiet, dusted with snow, steady and real.

They slowed without speaking about it.

The few steps up to the porch felt heavier than they should have. The faint creak of wood beneath their boots. Then stillness at the front door.

Hours had passed, and yet everything still carried that surreal glowPeyton had the strange feeling she was living out some softened version of Cinderella. That at midnight everything would unravel, that the magic would fold in on itself, that this night would turn into something she’d question later.

But it was already past midnight.

And the magic hadn’t disappeared.

And she hadn’t realized until now that their hands had been loosely intertwined the entire walk, just their pinkies hooked together, subtle and thoughtless. A quiet declaration. A small promise to remember.

Her gaze lifted, following the warmth of that connection up to him.

His sharp red eyes looked softer under the porch light.

“Oh—uhm,” she murmured, startled by her own awareness. She slowly drew her hand back. The separation lingered at their fingertips, neither quite letting go at first. Afraid that if they let each other slip, they'd be gone forever.

But it was real, very much so that the warmth never escaped their touch.

Naosuke gave a quiet, almost self-conscious chuckle, slipping his hands into his coat pockets as if to anchor himself. A beat of silence settled over them. Peyton played with the ends of her hair. His gaze wandered idly over the porch railing.

Then their eyes met.

A small, shared awkwardness lingered between them, lightened by the quiet laughter they both breathed out.

It faded naturally.

"I had fun tonight." Peyton spoke quietly, gloved fingers fiddling with the hem of her sleeves.

“I’m glad.” He tilted his head slightly. “I had a really good time too. I’m… happy I got to spend it with you.”

His words sank gently into her chest, slowly embedded through her chest as her heart fluttered.

A soft giggle escaped her, "And I'm glad that I got to see you almost mop the ice with your face."

He blinked. "Ooohh okaaayyy, har har, bates." he rolled his eyes in mock-offense, crossing his arms in a way that was playful before emitting a low sigh, "I have a feeling that you're never gonna let that go," he leaned against the door frame.

“If it means I get blackmail material against Thee Yoo Naosuke,” she teased, dragging out his name with exaggerated respect, “then no, absolutely not.”

“Mm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind people knowing you spent enough time with me to collect that sort of information.” the ravenette displayed a toothy grin.

The pair of dark grey orbs widden, "You're," she began to protest, only to melt down in embarrassment, ". . . Impossible. . " she muttered.

Naosuke stiffles another unfiltered laugh, He didn’t laugh because she was flustered. He laughed because he liked that he got to see it.

If his heart were allowed to speak plainly, it would admit the quiet rush he felt whenever her cheeks flushed like that. The way her annoyance never lasted long. The way she softened around him without realizing it. It felt selfish to want to keep that side of her to himself, but he did.

In fact, this whole night was ecstatic. Fuller than it should have

And it only deepened something that had already been quietly living in his chest for a long time now.

His eyes drifted to the wooden porch, bits and pieces of snow scattered and some had latched off from their boots. His gaze wandered as if trying to find the right words.

"Hey," he said, biting lightly at his lip. "about earlier." the ravenette recalled.

Peyton could feel the lump in her throat, something that swelled up from holding back the insane rhythm of her heartbeat. she knew where this is going.

“Y—you know,” he continued, voice lower now, careful. “At the center of the—”

Before he could continue, the sound of a lock turning cut through the moment. Metal clicked. The doorknob shifted.

Both of them straightened almost instantly, a reflex neither commented on.

The door opened.

Ethan stepped out just slightly onto the porch, one hand resting against the frame. He folded his arms—not rigid, but composed. The porch light caught the silver at his temples as his gaze moved calmly from Peyton to Naosuke.

“That tells me one of two things.”

Naosuke straightened almost imperceptibly.

“You’re either very responsible,” Ethan continued mildly, “or my daughter was bored.”

“Dad,” Peyton muttered immediately.

Naosuke met his gaze with steady politeness, a soft chuckle leaving him. “I try to aim for the first one, sir.”

Ethan hummed, amused. “Good answer.”

“Dad,” Peyton muttered under her breath.

“And,” Ethan went on, ignoring her entirely, “my daughter still has all ten fingers, appears unharmed, and—” he leaned slightly to peek at Peyton’s face, “—mildly flustered, but still smiling. I’ll take that as a positive report.”

“Dad.”

Naosuke coughed into his fist to hide a smile.

Ethan’s eyes flicked back to him. There it was—that subtle testing edge beneath the humor. “Walk her the whole way?”

“Yes, sir.”

“On the sidewalk?”

“. . . Yes, sir.”

“Not the street?”

“Dad!” Peyton’s voice pitched up, mortified. “Oh my god.”

Ethan raised his hands defensively, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Just thorough.”

She groaned, grabbing his sleeve. “Okay, that’s enough. Inside. Now.”

“Pey—”

But she was already pushing him gently but firmly back through the doorway.

“Goodnight, Mr. Bates,” Naosuke managed smoothly.

“Mhm,” Ethan replied, stepping backward.

The door shut. There was a beat of silence.

Then it opened again just enough for Peyton to slip back outside, pulling it closed quickly behind her before her father could reemerge.

She leaned against it for a second, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Naosuke let out a quiet laugh. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. He was interrogating you like you just applied for a security clearance.”

“I, , , think I passed?” he said lightly.

She peeked at him. “. . .You did.”

A small pause settled between them again, but softer now. Closer.

The porch light cast a warm glow over her face, catching the faint pink still lingering on her cheeks. Snow drifted lazily around them, slower now.

Naosuke slid his hands back into his coat pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. “He cares,” he said after a moment. Not judgmental. Just observant.

“I know.” She smiled faintly. “He just. . . forgets I’m not twelve.”

“He doesn’t,” Naosuke replied quietly. She looked up at him.

“He knows,” he continued, voice gentle. “That’s probably the problem.”

That made her laugh softly.

Silence settled again, but this time it felt different. Less awkward. More intentional.

Naosuke glanced briefly at the door, then back at her. The earlier almost-confession hovered between them, unspoken but understood.

He exhaled slowly.

A quiet intimacy lingered in the space between them. The snow caught in her hair again. He noticed, but didn’t brush it away this time. The moment felt too delicate to risk breaking.

The confession can wait. For now, It's best to savor the moment they had. Because some things were sweeter when saved.

“I’m really glad you came tonight,” she said.

“Me too.”

Silence hummed gently between them.

“…Even though we’re both terrible at skating?”

He considered that. “I think that was the best part.”

She blinked. “Falling?”

He chuckled, “No,” eyes steady on hers. “Learning.” his statement landed softly, less of a punchline and more of something with meaning.

She laughed softly, the sound smaller now. Sleepier. Honest.

He took a half step back, knowing if he stayed any longer, he might lose whatever careful restraint he’d managed to keep all evening.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” he uttered in a gentle tone.

“You better.”

“Wouldn’t want your dad conducting a porch stakeout.”

She groaned again. “Stop.”

He smiled, warmer this time. Less teasing. “Merry Christmas, Peyton.”

The way he said her name made it feel deliberate. Like he was placing it somewhere safe. Her chest tightened in the gentlest way.

“Merry Christmas, Naosuke.” she spoke with heart, tone honest.

Neither of them moved for a second. Then he stepped backward off the porch.

She stayed where she was, watching him descend the steps, boots crunching softly against snow. Just before he turned down the sidewalk, he glanced back.

She was still there. Of course she was.

He gave a small nod. She lifted her hand in a quiet wave.

And this time, when the door finally closed behind her, the night didn’t feel like something fleeting.