yoni

 Sungho hates ice skating, he's not good at it either. He hates how cold he gets the moment he steps on the ice, how it's just impossible for him to learn ice skating because his friends really enjoy ice skating. He feels left out every time he stays outside the rink, seeing his friends have fun. They try to teach him, but he refuses (that's his problem now), paranoid about getting hurt, and he hates how you love ice skating. He hates how you love gliding around the rink, the breeze of the indoor rink makes your hair look like it's flowing around in the ocean— except you're not. It makes Sungho cringe with how fast he fell with you, it's ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

  You first met Sungho at the local ice rink in your town. You notice that he was looking at you from the barriers, a fond look on his face. You decide to approach him, gliding through the ice. Sungho realizes you're skating to him and looks away, feeling embarrassed. “Hi, I saw you looking, and you seem nice, so I want to talk to you.” You awkwardly look around as you try making a conversation with him, which really leaves him with no choice but to acknowledge you. “Oh, yeah. You're really…good.” You didn't expect him to compliment you and it made you smile.

  “Thanks, I get that a lot...” suddenly you notice that a few people are approaching, which makes you turn your back. As soon as you turn, you see 5 guys skating and laughing then looking in your direction. “Woah Sungho, we didn't know you had a girlfriend!” a guy who looks younger than the rest exclaims, to which the guy in front of you who's supposed to be Sungho, glares at him. Then another guy waves at you. “Hi, I'm Jaehyun, we're all Sungho's friends.” Then, the shorter guy pulls Jaehyun. “y'know, she's really familiar…” then, a light bulb lights in his head. “Oh! My sister watches you on tv! You're Y/n, the well-known figure skating prodigy!” Everyone looks at you in shock and you laugh at their reaction. “Yeah, I am. Never met one before?”

  Soon enough, you keep hanging out with the group for a while, their jokes and bond with each other was really a special one. But then it starts getting late, so you have to go home, but before you could, Sungho asked for your number. “Oh sure! Here it's.. ” 

  Ever since then, you've been friends with six chaotic guys, making your life louder… in a good way. It's been five years since you've met them, and you grew to love them like your family, except for one person. He makes your heart beat too fast for you to consider family.

  “Y/n, do you want to go to the ice rink?”

 Sungho called you on a random tuesday, which was already weird but then he asked you if you want to go ice skating? That's not Sungho anymore. “Sungho, whaaat?! You? And— and ice skating?!” He pauses for a second then mutters. “...Yeah? What's wrong..” You scoff at the microphone, a mix of happiness and shock coursing through you. “Everything! Everything about what's happening right now is just absurd! You wanna skate now, Sungho?! Omg this is so excit—” before you could finish your rant you realize something. “Wait… But Sungho, you don't know how to ice skate…?”

  Sungho sighs, turning his back on his bed. “That's why I wanted to go ice skating… I want you to teach me…” You smile because after how many times you've tried convincing him that skating is easy and that he should learn it, he's finally taking a step to learn. “Oh, okay! Yes definitely I will teach you! Oh my gee I'm so excited!!”

  You hang up and toss the phone on your bed before Sungho could say anything else, the excitement making you forget to say goodbye to him. “Oh, Sorry!!” Jumping on your bed you get your phone and call him again. “Y/n…” you giggle when Sungho picks up your call, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry, well… When are you free? Let's plan this out.”

  “Sooo yeah, we're going to the ice rink this Saturday!” Then you take a sip of your coffee, seeing Jaehyun's shocked face. 

  “What did you do to convince him to ACTUALLY go inside the ice rink and learn?!”

  Jaehyun exclaims while you laugh at his reaction. “I didn't do anything, he asked me…!” He huffs in annoyance. “I've tried for years, YEARS! And you… You know what, fine… You win!” You were in a cafe with Jaehyun, just hanging out and talking about literally anything. He’s the person in the friend group that you're the closest to, aside from Sungho. “Oh, I took pictures around the park earlier, look.” You take out your camera, and he leans on your camera’s LCD screen. As you go through the photos, he stops you. “Woah, where did you take this? I’ve never seen this before, and I grew up around this park!” You go back to the picture of the small pond at the park. “You haven’t seen this at all? How?! I mean, it’s a pond…” He nods, clearly, both of you are surprised by this.   Jaehyun stands up and gathers his things. “Let’s go, you have to take me there!” You stand up and take your hat, but before you can put it on, he drags you out of the cafe. As you walk around with Jaehyun as he wants to go to the pond that he never knew about, you notice a familiar figure. “Oh, Sungho! You're here!” Sungho perks up from the voice that's calling him out. “Y/n, Jaehyun!” As he waves for you to come, you take out your camera and take a picture of Sungho before you approach him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna go to Taesan’s.”   “Yeah, but he called me earlier and told me his family visited out of nowhere, so… I got uninvited.”   Sungho explains, while you find a bench to sit on. Jaehyun let out a snort, clearly laughing at Sungho’s situation. “Haha, that still doesn’t answer our question.” Sungho scoffs, then smiles. “I just…” He turns to look at you, making eye contact. He holds it for a while before looking away. “I was just bored, and I used to go here a lot, so… Yeah. I missed this place.” Now, this is where you mess up and say a stupid, like really…stupid joke. “Hah, is it because you confessed to me around here? You love me too much.” You laugh it off, but Sungho looks at you like you offended him. “Y/n, what? I mean, I did like you, but don’t just assume stuff that fast, it’s stupid.” You were taken aback, but you wanted to fight back. “Hmm, yeah, stupid like me, right? Remember that? When you called me stupid just because I rejected you? If you didn’t then, I hope I reminded you, Sungho! Honestly, you were such a little jerk, you couldn’t even accept it…”  

  You’re both glaring now. You knew you shouldn’t have made that joke, and he knew he shouldn’t have gotten angry, but fuck, he still likes you, it hurt to see you joke about it. “I acted out because you were being mean to my confession? Cmon, you don’t remember that? I’d say you were more immature than me!” Your voices have gotten louder, and Jaehyun couldn’t do anything but stare. Clearly, the confession left some damage on both of you. “Guys, stop it, we’re at a park, do this privately-” You cut him off with another jab. “You were being weird about it!” “Weird where?! I was being romantic even!”   “THIS FIGHT IS JUST STUPID ANYWAY, RIGHT SUNGHO?!” You shout out, the last jab you pull out, and without warning them, you run away from them. You got home and lay on your bed, reflecting on everything you said. Even then, this is a big deal, You fought with Sungho. You waited for days, planning to ask him to hang out or on a date, to apologize to him, but he got to you first. A week after the weird fight, Sungho finds himself outside your door, wearing the scarf you gave him last year and the ice skates you gave him last, last year. He rings the doorbell and mentally prepares himself. When you opened the door, you were really surprised that your instinct told you to shut the door. “Y/n, wait!” Sungho stops the door with his foot, which clearly hurts. “OH MY- I’M SO SORRY!”   He winces but still tries telling you he’s okay. “It’s fine. It’s just…the thing we agreed to, where you teach me to skate? It’s today…” Your eyes widen and look at the calendar inside your house, it is today! “Oh, I’ll get ready first, just wait!!”

  Fast forward to the ice rink, you stand in front of the door that's separating the both of you from the actual rink. You're tying your shoe lace when you notice that Sungho is looking nervous. You pat him on the shoulder and he flinches. “Sungho..? You're not okay at all… you can still back out you know…” He turns his head towards you and his expression, he looks so sure that he wants to continue on with this. “I don't… I don't wanna do this, but I wanna learn so… I can skate with you.” You look at Sungho in shock, taking in everything he just said. 

  “...Uh, should we go in now?” He stands up from the bench and sees that he's done with tying his shoe laces, you nod. You step on the ice, then you look at Sungho while extending your hand to him. “I'm here, just hold on to me okay? I've got you.” He makes eye contact with you as he slowly steps in the rink, your smile growing bigger every second. “You're already in, next step, how to actually skate.”

  You stayed in the ice rink for two hours until Sungho knew how to balance himself on the ice and to actually skate, it's pretty good progress, you'd say. “You're a fast learner, you know? I've never seen someone get used to skating in just a few hours…"  

  “You know me, I'm a fast learner.” Sungho smiles at you and you smile back, your heart beating faster. For a while it seems to be going well, until his legs wobble and he falls, making a laugh escape your mouth. “OH MY GOSH SUNGHO! HAHAH! I take it back, I said something too early.” Still, you skate to him and help him get up. You reach your hand out, then he takes it and you pull him up. He stands with your help and you can't help but notice the redness of his ears. “Sungho, are you okay? Your ears are really red.”

  Sungho immediately covers his ears in a panic, the embarrassment from falling was already bad, now his stupid ears are making it worse. “It's nothing! They've always been red, Y/n, what are you talking about...” Slowly, you rest your hand on top of his hands that were covering his ears, then you pull them away, caressing his hands gently. “You know you're really cute when you get embarrassed. It's fine Sungho, I don't mind that, let's just continue with skating.” You both stare at each other and for a moment, time slowed down. 

  You didn't know what you were doing, you have never been this affectionate towards Sungho. On the other hand, Sungho's mind is running miles, overthinking everything you're saying to him. The whole time you're teaching him, you've been more careful around him and it does something to him. The feelings he had towards you that have disappeared are coming back and he's realizing it. And all you could think about is Sungho, the person you want to spend every winter on the ice rink with.

  “Uhm… Let's continue on now…” Sungho breaks the silence and you awkwardly laugh. “Oh, yeah! Sure...” Then you continue with skating until Sungho nudges you. “Uh, Y/n… You don't have to hold my hand really hard if you're guiding me, you know that right?” You look down to where your hand is gripping his hand HARD. You immediately let go of his hand. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…” Now you're the one that's embarrassed. Sungho laughs and you follow, it's a wholesome moment. Then you stop, you have to apologise now.   “Sungho, about our fight… I'm really sorry, I said some things that I knew hurt you so much. I thought that it would have been okay if I made a joke about it because it’s been a while, but I didn’t know it still affected you this much…I didn't mean anything I said, not at all. And… I know I should not do this here but I can’t wait anymore. I like you, not as a friend but more than that. You don’t need to give me an answer now, I get it, I mean after what happened, n-” Suddenly, you were hugged by Sungho, taking you by surprise, and the warm feeling in your chest came back. But you're not complaining, you just want to be on good terms with him again. “Y/n…I still love you.” You take a step closer, hugging his torso.

  “And you didn’t have to apologize, you know? I couldn’t control my feelings and got angry…” He ruffles your hair, looking down at you as you look up. “Still, we fought and I can’t really forgive myself because of that, I hurt you.” Sungho cups your cheek, caressing it.  “We're okay now, right? I missed you.” You smile, the intimate gesture already feeling like second nature, then pull away.

“Okay! Now that's resolved, let's go ba–” You cut yourself off as you lose your balance, you slipped. “Y/n!” Sungho rushes to your side, trying to save you from the fall, keyword: trying. As he grabs your jacket (literally what was he thinking!!), he goes down WITH you. You close your eyes, waiting for impact but you could only feel someone below you. You open your eyes and see that Sungho sacrificed himself and took the fall. “Sungho! Are you okay!?” You panic, checking his head and looking around to see if he got injured. “Y/n, I'm fine…” he groans and you let out a sigh of relief. Then you realize the position the fall got you onto, making you panic and pulling yourself up.

  “I’M SORRY!! I didn’t mean to do that, I swear!” Sungho laughs, looking up at you. “Will you help me?” You immediately bend down to pull him up. “Don’t you think it’s been a bit awkward since I uhm…” He doesn’t hesitate and says: “Mhm, yeah. Let’s stop for today. You can teach me more tomorrow, right? If you think about it, it’s going to be another date.” You reach for his hand, and he accepts it. "Sure, let's do another date tomorrow." You left the ice rink with a boyfriend.

Maybe you should get him one for this year’s Christmas. 

Maybe.

You’re singing along to whatever tune is playing as you move about the kitchen, shoving the sugar cookies into the oven. You two deserve a little treat as you continue to decorate the house for this festive year. 

Your favourite time of the year. It’s always fun. Caroling at home with Riwoo because you’re both too socially awkward to do it anywhere else. Creating a Christmas playlist every year together the night before December 1st. Purposely sneaking off to find the Pillsbury festive sugar cookies whenever you two go grocery shopping. 

He’s always catching you when he realizes you’re going off route, however this time he didn’t, hence why you’re now placing the cookies into the oven with a stupid grin on your face. The one that Riwoo adores.

 “(Name), are you done over there?” Riwoo calls while picking up the reef and approaching the front door, opening it as a breeze makes its way through. 

You shut the oven door, pulling the oven mitts off your hands. “Almost!” You cheer . You’re quick to place them on the countertop and make your merry way over to your boyfriend. He’s entering the house again, dusting off the few snowflakes that landed on his hair. He almost looked like a dog coming back from its late night walk.

It’s funny.

“What?” Riwoo’s brows furrow as he catches a glance of you laughing. “What’s funny?” He questions.

“You.” You say as you walk over to him and point at his hair. “You look like a dog dusting off the snow.” Your hand reaches out to his head, helping him get the rest of the snow off without making a big mess.  

“You look cute.” 

He blushes, then clears his throat and looks away. The two of you have been dating for at least three Christmases now—this being your fourth—and yet, your words never fail to make Riwoo’s heart flip. 

You bite back a smile as you pull your hand away from his hair. “There. All the snow is gone.”

“Thank you.” He mumbles and scurries away to the box of decorations. 

It’s filled to the brim with garlands, ornaments, the star, tree lights, and everything. Anything that brought the Christmas spirit. The Christmas spirit. Your favourite thing ever. So far, nothing has gone wrong this year. The decorating is going smoothly—that’s a first. 

Usually, something goes wrong. 

For example, last year the two of you couldn’t find the star of the tree at all. It wasn’t in the box of decorations, it was nowhere to be found. So, the two of you made a last minute run to the store to buy one, but it was closed… a minute before you arrived. 

Terrible luck.

Then the year before that, you were so into the music and decorating that you completely forgot about the cookies in the oven… they burned and the whole place smelled like smoke (more so burnt cookies) for a week.

And lastly, the year before that one too, you forgot to wrap two of his Christmas presents, and he saw them when grabbing something from the closet of your shared room… great.

So, you wonder what will happen this year. Hopefully it can be a lighthearted funny story to tell at a family dinner. Something to ease awkward tension whenever it’s there—nearly always from both of your perspectives. But having stories like that saves you enough suffocation.

You search the drawers near the entrance, looking for a lighter. To set the vibes even more, you thought it would be best to light a candle. Of course, something that you have quite a lot of. They vary from scents that are musky to sweeter than a sugar cube (how Riwoo likes to describe it). He isn’t wrong. There are some that do smell like a sugar cookie.

For example, the one that you chose. It’s almost like an iced gingerbread cookie. Your personal favourite candle. You’re still singing along to the song that plays, Riwoo joining in here and there filling in the silent moments of the night as you search.

You begin to light the candle wicks, Riwoo's head whipping over to the sudden flame, eyeing the label of the candle. “Oh that smells nice.” He announces.

“I like that one.”

“Me too. It’s my favourite.” You reply, lighting the last wick. It smells wonderful. You place the lighter down back into its original place within the drawers and take your leave.

“Do you want to start the tree?” You ask, appearing from behind your boyfriend. 

“Yeah, we can do that.” He smiles and reaches into the box for a decoration. 

“Any plans?” You ask and Riwoo shakes his head.

“Not at all.” He breathes. “Go with the flow?”

“Why not!” You cheer and the two of you get to work.

For the last three years, either one of you had a plan for the tree. There was never a ‘go-with-the-flow’ moment until now. Yikes, you have no idea how this might turn out, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

If you had to choose your most favourite decorated tree, it would definitely be your second Christmas together. Nothing could ever top such a thing. The combination of red, white, and the warm-toned tree lights was perfect. Accents of baby pink ornaments to top it all off as well? The best thing to ever be created. You loved it so much, however, you never were able to recreate it. 

It felt like a one-hit wonder. 

The first year is a close second, still white decorations but with a mixture of gold and silver. The warm lights stayed every single year. It’s a classic, there’s no way the two of you are giving it up that easily. 

Last year was a mix of year one and two. It looked similar but still had a good vibe to it. Lovely.

Ding! 

Your head whips over to the sound of the oven timer going off. “They’re done!” Rushing, you approach the kitchen with that same stupid grin on your face from earlier, leaving Riwoo to begin decorating alone. The aroma of the cookies and the lit candle fill the living room space, feeling like a warm hug.

It’s cozy. Very very cozy. 

The Christmas trees and snowmen cookies are perfectly golden at the edges which makes you salivate at the sight. Oh you’re so ready to dive in later. 

“How do they look?” Riwoo questions from the room over.  

“Great!” You reply while placing the last tray on the countertop.

He smiles. 

Then it falters.

Then he stumbles.

Then falls. 

Shit.

“Riwoo?” You call from the kitchen, poking your head over the kitchen island. It’s silent. No response from the said boy, leaving you worried. You’re quick to take off the oven mitts, discarding them elsewhere before rushing to the living room. At first glance, you don’t see him anywhere. He’s nowhere to be found.

“Riwoo?” You call again, worry lingering in your voice. Your eyes are darting everywhere in the living room, yet you can’t spot him anywhere. Maybe the thud came from somewhere else in the house? Though, where could he have possibly snuck off to in such a short time? 

“Riwoo—” “I’m right here!” His voice is muffled but still catches your attention.

You look around, lost. You still don’t see him. “Where?” 

There’s a pause. For you it’s silence that makes you worry even further. For Riwoo it’s to mentally prepare himself and suppress the embarrassment that rushes up his neck. “Underneath the tree.” 

Underneath the tree? Like… that one Christmas song? Is he really joking around with you right now? “You want me to play that song?” You ask. 

There’s a sigh that leaves his lips from somewhere around the living room. It’s muffled yet you can hear it loud and clear.

“No, (Name)...” He says. “Physically underneath the tree.” 

You look over the couch in front of you, noticing the tangled mess of Christmas lights and Riwoo who so happened to be caught up in it. 

“Riwoo… How did that even happen?” You’re in disbelief. Shocked as to how things escalated that fast with you gone. You can never leave your boyfriend unsupervised for more than a minute, can you now? 

“Don’t ask.” He tries to wiggle his way from underneath the tree but fails miserably. Not even he knows how this happened so quickly. However, he does know that this is very embarrassing… and most likely will become the new funny story to say at family dinners. 

As you get closer to the trapped male, you’re stifling your laughter even more. Of course, you’re still wondering if he’s okay, but with the way he looks like a fish out of water, you can’t help but start laughing at the sight.

He’s staring at you with a bashful expression as you laugh. In your defense, it’s not like he wouldn’t do the same if you were in his position. He would waste no time to laugh at your being. 

“A little help here…” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. You bite your bottom lip in an attempt to hold back the rest of your laughter and clear your throat in the process. 

“Right, sorry.” You apologize as you crouch down to untangle the boy. Unfortunately, using your hands isn’t enough. It’s too tangled like a pair of wired earbuds for you to manage. 

“Riwoo, this is so bad! How’d you even do this?” 

“I don’t know! I was getting ready to wrap it around the tree and then boom. This happened.” He explains through frustration and embarrassment. 

“You’re so clumsy.” You tease, finally finding the loophole of the tangle. Swiftly, you unwrap the lights from his figure, freeing him from the Santa Claus shackles with a smile on your face. 

“Are you okay?” You question, wanting to know if he’s fine. Riwoo nods while racking his hand through his hair before you’re turning around to laugh again. 

A slight smile made its way to his face. As much as he likes the sound of your laughter, this is still quite embarrassing for him. “Is it really that funny?” 

You nod and he scoffs. 

“I hope this happens to you next year.” He mutters, gaining your attention immediately. 

“Knock on wood! Don’t jinx it.” 

“Never. Next year’s mishap will be your cookie incident again.” 

“Riwoo!” You exclaim, softly tapping at his thigh. You can’t let that happen again… You still haven’t lived it down when it comes to reminiscing memories.

“I’m just kidding, I love you.” He engulfs you into a hug, nuzzling his face into the crevice of your neck. The warmth is nice. With the music playing in the background and the smell of the freshly baked sugar cookies and sweet candle it all compliments it too. 

“Or am I?” He whispers, earning a soft slap on his back. You feel his laugh reverberating on your skin as you frown. 

“Not funny.”

“Hey, you laughed at me earlier. It’s only fair this way.”

Silence.

“Exactly, silly.”

“Oh whatever…”  You pause nuzzling further into his arms.

“Do you want to maybe take a break and eat while watching a Christmas movie?” You suggest, feeling him nod into your neck. 

“Elf.” Riwoo says, pulling away quickly. He knows how much you like every other Christmas movie over that one, but it’s only fair after his little mishap to let him choose, right?

“...Fine.” You answer and he smiles. 

Finally, Riwoo wins for once. Even if you’re not the biggest fan of Elf, it’s fine. At least you get to enjoy his company and sugar cookies while you’re at it. 

BOYNEXTDOOR PERM TAGLIST — @ihankaji @ancnymcnzjy @ilovedallywinston @i03jae @borednia @s0shroe @leehanwish @sol3chu @en-dream @ribbeoms @itsactuallylina @himewonu @hollxe1 @r1kification @mensisim @mydearyeseo @sunghxxnie @taesanfav @wonzzziezzzz @ijustwannareadstuff20 @tanghuyuj @ranjupotato @mimimimiaa @ningizuo @hyunjinslongasslegs @jvngw0nlvr @paradiseoflosers @itsactuallylina @kukkurookkoo @monniemoody @cheruphic @kazemiya @rizzwoos @beomgyus-right-eyelash @kagatinkita @w3willris3 @jusskla @bamgeutori @athenaisonlinee @wensurr @wnouzi @soobundle1009 @chae-rries @pupillary @daeengz @ivxae

Our December coverage reaches its final chapter.

After the cocoa spills, the confessions, and the blanket treaties, we arrive at the brightest part of the story—where everything glows a little warmer, beats a little faster.

Step Three is simple on paper and catastrophic in practice: Find your spark under the lights.

Experts define it as that sudden flicker between people, equal parts electricity, timing, and maybe divine mischief.

Below, six field reports from locations known to conduct such currents.

First to file, @yunextdoor reports from a residential rooftop where Woonhak proves that best friendships are statistically most vulnerable to becoming something more when stars align on Christmas Eve.

@mirisss follows with Jaehyun, whose casual stroll through a glowing market is officially reclassified as a mistletoe-assisted ignition event.

@riumori submits a domestic dispatch in which Riwoo’s at-home caroling chaos confirms that sparks often arrive disguised as noise, laughter, and minor disasters.

@woongelaatin then takes us rink-side with Sungho, whose willingness to fall—repeatedly—establishes effort as love’s most visible signal.

@htaesan delivers a historical field report as Taesan steps out of armor and into a winter festival, holding hands at the edge of duty and desire; and finally—

@lovehakie closes the series finale with Leehan, whose city-lights kiss serves as definitive proof that some sparks don’t just flicker—they glow.

CONCLUSION? Sparks build by those who LOVE!

The BoyNews team concludes its December coverage with unanimous results:

Home can be built.

Love can be given.

Sparks can absolutely happen under 20,000 fairy lights.

For archival purposes, the official record reads: Two hearts, one guitar, multiple mugs of cocoa, and a happy ending.

From our newsroom to yours—keep making, keep giving, keep glowing.

End of Series ( Seasonal print includes bonus crossword: “Find 12 synonyms for love.” )

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

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!”

thank you for reading! please like + reblog to show support, and feel free to leave feedback and comments through rb tags, anon messages, or dms!

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

COLLAB TAGLIST: @astrae4 @hollyoongs @taestulipss @gyurilla @ihankaji @moesthinking @tobiotaesan @starriniqhts @ring4hiy @coriihanniee @wooahoe @yunextdoor @mirisss @riumori @woongelaatin @htaesan @lovehakie

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

want more? check out the masterlist! want to be notified? join taglist here!

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

Welcome back to our continuing investigation into how to spend twenty-four perfect days before Christmas. After last week’s revelations on cocoa diplomacy and the rise of blanket infrastructure, the newsroom turns its gaze from making to giving. Our analysts report a shocking statistic: eighty-three percent of the season’s best gifts can’t fit in a box.

Step Two is for those things—unpostable, unprice-taggable, sometimes terrifyingly sincere.

First on the docket, @tobiotaesan shows up with Jaehyun, whose charity-event heroics strongly suggest that last year’s misplaced heart has officially been returned to sender.

@starriniqhts then files an academic briefing wherein you provide unauthorized emotional tutoring to our beloved Riwoo, boosting both confidence levels and end-of-semester morale!

@ring4hiy reports next as Taesan abandons his producer’s chair to learn an instrument purely because you asked, marking a historic surge in boyfriend compliance rates, and—

@coriihanniee contributes a recovered-archives piece in which Leehan’s long-buried confession rewrites the timeline of a childhood friendship.

@wooahoe then follows with Woonhak, whose late-night vigils confirm that listening—reaaaally listening—may be the most achingly fragile gift the season demands.

Finally, @tsanho closes Step Two with Sungho, whose quiet acts of service—warm meals, softer gazes, and a steady shoulder—demonstrate that love’s loudest declarations often arrives without a single spoken word.

CONCLUSION? A gift comes without a RECEIPT!

Step Two proves that the most valuable presents expire immediately if left unspoken. They need hands, ears, and a heart willing to look a little foolish. So give what you can’t wrap. Offer time, trust, and a ridiculous amount of sincerity.

Next up in our continuing coverage: Step Three: Find Your Spark Under the Lights. Rumors hint at ice rinks, rooftop stars, and one ( 1, uno, roman numeral I ) legally binding mistletoe clause. Stay tuned.

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

NETWORKS: @k-records @onedoornet

“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

snow leaned gently on the window glass. every speck held a dim shine from the kitchen lamp, almost like little glimmers floating mid-air. chill air kissed the outer side of the pane, yet indoors, heat poured out from the stove while scents of gingerbread with cinnamon wrapped the space in comfort.

the smell felt warm, wrapping around the room while drifting into the hint of vanilla from the sugar sitting close by. a quiet crackle came from the oven as it lost heat, joining the delicate tune of snow flower playing softly through the speaker

The window carried a light mist from the heat indoors, turning what was past it into hazy forms and dim bright spots. now and then your shadow showed up weakly - glowing softly, tiny beside the broad cold landscape out there. Inside seemed like a snug pocket hidden off by itself

only warmth, nothing but sweetness, then that soft murmur of a calm night. the atmosphere seemed heavy with ease, one where your muscles relax before you even realize it.

the snow dropped slow, like it didn't care where else it could go - just here, just now, near you.

snow flower hummed through the small speaker by the edge, quiet and smooth, one of those tunes that drags minutes into something longer. the room held streaks of flour, mixing bowls, red-striped canes, sticky drops of color - yet nothing looked out of place. instead, it breathed, almost like this cozy corner existed only for both of you. overhead, the bulb blinked once in rhythm, bouncing off tiny sugar bits, turning them into specks of starlight along the table’s edge. shadows curled gently down the walls while every shelf and tile wore a hazy shine

the tunes curled through the space, cozy as an old quilt, while gentle melodies mixed with cinnamon scents and a hint of sugary air. each tiny noise stood out - the crinkle of foil, the drag of fabric on countertop, or the muffled bump when jelly candies settled

It was soft beneath the tune. When you moved closer, heat from the stove touched your face. Everything around shifted with your rhythm - calm, steady.

riwoo softly sang while arranging the cookie shapes, his arms covered in white powder. he looked your way, grinning just a bit. "really gonna begin the top part without meee," he said, head cocked as if guessing your answer already. his voice carried a playful edge that made your heart skip.

his tune mixed easily with the quiet tunes playing nearby, so everything felt calmer. He seemed totally relaxed right there - dustings of flour stuck to his fingers, strands of hair falling out of place, his gaze carrying that cozy, playful spark he only showed when you were near.

the way his voice rose at the end of that question seemed known, almost like a habit from countless past moments. warmth spread in your chest seeing how he shifted near the table - cautious yet relaxed, as if he belonged right there alongside you.

you blew up your cheeks, faking confidence. "im totally sure - everything’s gonna work out just right," you blurted, swatling your arms like it’d erase doubt

your voice floated into the thick air, feeling silly even as you heard it. your arms acted on their own, sweeping wide, kicking up a small puff of flour from the surface. that gentle amber glow overhead gave your face a cozy blush, while watching your hands dance midair nearly made you snicker. the space itself felt cheerful, like it was grinning along - light bouncing softly off the countertop.

he chuckled quietly, flicking some flour from your sleeve. His hand stayed near you - just a beat too long. "that’s what they all say," he joked, gaze lively, full of warmth

the touch was gentle, yet it warmed your skin where his fingers passed. a speck of flour drifted down when he wiped it off, vanishing somewhere in the golden glow around them. his laughter blended with the low hum of music, heat from the oven, plus the calm hush - suddenly time seemed softer, closer. his eyes gleamed as if hiding something just for you.

you rolled your eyes - yet that grin still slipped out. "fiiine," you gave in, voice dragging. maybe… just maybe… a bit of help wouldn’t hurt

even rolling your eyes came off calm, never frustrated. yet your smile broke through since the cozy sensation inside wouldn't stay buried. instead, your words drifted out slow, fitting the quiet rhythm around you. still, there was peace in surrendering, a lightness in owning up while he stared with that kind look. almost like allowing heat to slip in through a slightly open door.

“that’s why im here,” he said, moving nearer. side by side, you both bent toward the table. bits of gingerbread lay scattered - like a miniature town needing borders. your palms brushed the tabletop, cool at touch, while frosting pooled heavy and tacky, tugging at your skin in gooey little bunches. powdered sugar speckled the edge nearby, shimmering faintly where light hit it, snagging your gaze every few seconds.

the nearness made your face warm, though the stove wasn't to blame. the table seemed like a tiny scene from a frosty day.

gingerbread walls just stood there, hoping for something real. Candy bits sat close by - each one a small glowing house. every time you moved near, spice scents drifted out, wrapping around you slow.

his hands moved yours as icing traced the corners of the room. it just clicked, simple, like nowhere else would’ve fit right. heat from his touch ran across your fingers, soft but steady. cinnamon hung thicker in that space, while his quiet words slipped into the song, making everything slow down and taste almost real

each small motion seemed to matter - his fingertips grazing yours, warmth radiating from his palm, calm and firm. instead of words, his breathing blended with the sweet scent of sugar in the air. slowly, side by side, your hands guided the icing in gentle sweeps, shaping it without hurry. that quiet closeness turned the space between you heavier, softer, like being tucked in.

the first little house popped up smooth, but its roof slipped at first till it found balance. you gave quiet applause while moving backward, eyes on the small build swaying just a bit before going still

your gentle clap floated out, mixing with the oven’s faint pops as it cooled down. that tiny gingerbread home seemed almost confident, sitting lopsided yet strong. it tugged your lips upward - just slightly - the kind of grin you get when little things mean more than expected. even its tilt appeared sweet, as if the place were bashful but giving everything it had.

you tipped the gumdrop jar - candy bounced all over, pinks, greens, yellows zipping underfoot. light hit them just right, making each shade burst beside the dull tiles. riwoo dropped down slow, grabbed a rosy one, held it up like he’d found buried gold. “floor snacks? pretty sure that’s not how this works,” he teased

gumdrops skittered over the wood, tapping gently, rolling beneath tables and drawers like tiny bursts of joy. a grin rose up without warning, just from watching him move. his crouch came slow, exaggerated, kind of silly - like he was after treasure nobody else could see. those vivid sweets shone faintly, standing out in the dim kitchen light.

the space buzzed with heat, yet held a touch of goofy delight.

you tossed a random sugar bit toward his nose - he chuckled while wiping it away. next thing, both of you went for the same frosting nozzle. skin brushed against skin. time just… stopped, real quick. heat from his palm hit you first. then came the sweet air floating around. soft tunes hummed in the background - suddenly, nothing else moved

it wasn't about how little rain fell.

the moment it touched his nose, his face relaxed into something warm and quiet. as your hands brushed, heat climbed your arm like a slow ripple - unexpected, but steady. everything around froze, just for a beat. the sound dimmed down too, almost on purpose, like it didn’t want to break the stillness.

at the next house, icing oozed out the edges while a side swayed like it’d collapse any second. riwoo braced it, grumbling about weak frames. his forehead tightened a bit from focus, mouth squeezed shut

the clutter just made things seem more hilarious, while every bit of icing hitting the floor cranked up the wild vibe in the kitchen. walls swayed like they were attempting a move, yet riwoo’s straight expression somehow warmed the scene. his attention came off sweet, kind of naive - like he’d signed up as an architect for something ready to collapse. heat from the space kept laughter bubbling whenever he narrowed his eyes. maybe it’s just trying to act like modern art,” he said while smirking, wiping some frosting from his thumb

his smile filled the little gap around you, turning the dim kitchen glow into something cozy. The icing on his finger fit how gently he was looking at you. Outside, past his shoulder, the falling snow seemed to pause, like it didn’t want to miss a thing.

maybe it's like life," you joked, reaching out to fix the collapsing pile. Your hands slipped right in - goo stuck to your skin, smeared everywhere. sticky trails spread where you moved. colors bled slow - the red creeping into green, turning hazy, sweet, kinda messy

the icing mashed quietly, clinging to your skin like little puffs of sky. blotches across the wood took on a painted look in the golden glow. somehow, chaos just added warmth.

your voice mixed into the clatter from the kitchen, each phrase soft yet full of warmth.

you accidentally smeared frosting across his cheek while brushing away flour - he gave a quiet smile, then cleaned it up with a napkin.

it felt good. chaotic - but the right sort of chaos. your laugh floated through the air, gentle and low, while the little cozy space lit up more each time you grinned

the napkin skimmed your fingers, yet the laugh after was fuller, richer. light in the space grew brighter with each chuckle, like the walls soaked up your joy. stains spread across the table, down your palms, along his cuffs

It just seemed like one of those quiet scenes that sticks around in your head.

when the final piece clicked into place, you two just dropped where you stood. the kitchen looked wrecked. powder coated every edge. sweet goo smeared the tabletop. jelly beans tucked beneath cupboards, showing only hints of bright color

sitting on the floor seemed like how things were meant to wind down after that quiet mess. the cold floor tiles touching your skin evened out the cozy air around you. dustings of flour across the surface gave the space a hushed, frosty glow, as if winter had slipped through the cracks near the window.

riwoo gave you a soft nudge… you shifted closer, soaking up the cozy heat from his knit top. silence curled around snow flower’s low murmur while warmth seeped out of the stove - suddenly, the world beyond faded out.

his sweater was cozy, holding a hint of sweetness mixed with comfort. Leaning on him? Like sinking into something fluffy and quiet. outside, snow fell slow - but it didn’t matter. light from the kitchen blended with gentle tunes, wrapping you two up without effort. Warmth still crept out from the oven, moving in soft pulses.

check it out," he murmured, waving toward the leaning homes. his tone stayed quiet yet held a spark of pride, drifting through the narrow gap between you

his voice slipped into the thick air, gentle - almost like a note in the song. seeing the leaning houses through him, they actually looked unique. tiny flawed things shaped by hands always moving, joy always bubbling up.

you grinned big. “It seems just right,” you said softly - your words quiet yet cozy, blending with the soft noise around

your whisper slipped into the silence, kind of like steam on a frosty window. Resting your head on his shoulder just happened - no effort. those little gingerbread homes seemed snug, each in its own odd fashion. A bit tilted, sloppily dressed up, yet full of life from the hours you poured into them.

you hung around for some time. Snow Flower kept drifting through the air, low and gentle. beyond the window, flakes dropped slow, blanketing the ground in pale hush. In the room, heat from the stove mixed with quiet chuckles, along with just having him near - suddenly, nothing else mattered. each inhale seemed deeper, each look his way meant more

time slipped by strange in that cozy corner. the tune melted into a quieter melody, though you barely caught it shifting. snow painted everything beyond the glass hazy, making things feel calm and still. In there, your breath found his on its own, syncing without effort. soft glows, heat from nearby, just being together like that.

all around seemed touched by a gentle light.

his hand met yours once more. a soft press, just that - quiet, saying it all. fingertips brushed slow, linked in a way that felt steady. cozy, known, like something always there

the afternoon slipped by in small, soft moments. whipping up hot chocolate, gobbling tons of sugar cookies even though you swore they were gross, then bundling up mini presents for pals - sometimes stopping just to stare outside at the clouds. each move seemed heavy with meaning, like it mattered. the cup warmed your palms, drink rich and sugary. fumes twisted upward, bringing whiffs of cocoa mixed with sweetness

the afternoon slipped past like a quiet nap. the hot cocoa heated your core while sugar cookies scattered bits down your arm. each tiny move seemed calm.

the sky beyond turned from pale white to a dull gray while snow continued drifting down.

once the houses were finished, you still couldn't decide where to put the candy. Riwoo said candy canes held everything together - like they actually kept the roof up. You gave him a look, muttering they only looked nice. He shot back with that teasing spark again

you ran your fingertip over the couch’s side, touching his hand by accident. In reply, he gave yours a solid, calm press

the smooth material beneath your fingertip heated up fast when his palm met yours. yet his grip stayed light, unhurried - almost whispering that he hadn’t gone anywhere. though silent, the space between you carried the same warmth as earlier giggles.

the gingerbread homes leaned sideways - clumsy, uneven, yet oddly right. near each one, sprinkles of frosting and sweets spilled out here and there. their shades popped beneath the dim shimmer above

ypu chatted low with riwoo - odd stuff, like crooked walls or stray gumdrops, then flicked through old movie scenes instead.

You poked fun at him. In response, he shot back with a joke. More arguments came up - this time about why sugar cookies just belong at Christmas. Your laughs mixed with his little tunes, making the space warm, alive, maybe even protected

the hushed chat was light, almost weightless. no pressure, no hurry - just gentle speech with cozy undertones. whenever he responded with a hum, that tone rippled through space, blending into the melody. walls expanded softly around your talking, cradling each note like a shared secret. somehow, this moment simply seemed familiar.

small wins popped up when your friends picked their favorite cookie shapes. each chuckle, stare, or bump into each other meant something - time flew easier because of it. That spark stayed around; even silly debates about how cookies should look made you smile

every alert zapped your screen like lightning, every tally sparking fresh teasing debates. tiny remarks had you two grinning bigger. joy hung around way past the final count

a gentle hum of joy lingered by the walls, almost like quiet heat after a fire dies down.

finally, night showed up, while shadows crept over the yard. Inside, the kitchen held its cozy glow. you flicked a loose candy his way, he snagged it mid-air with a smirk, then chucked it out. A quiet tap rang out when it bounced off the countertop

as dark settled outside, turning things hazy blue, the kitchen stayed bright with a gentle glow. the candy soared across the warm space; when he grabbed it midair without effort, you couldn’t help grinning. A small metallic tap rang out - soft as wind chimes - in the calm around you.

you two giggled, lost in those little goofy moments, while everything else just faded out. the soft snap of the heater mixed with the low drone from the speaker, wrapping around the whole room

your laugh mixed into the hum of the heater, like the dark got gentler somehow. beyond the glass, everything might’ve faded away - you’d never know. nothing else counted except that cozy light hanging in the air near both of you.

after that, clearing the leftover bits side by side. riwoo bumping your shoulder now and then, resting close, whispering silly jokes. just pushing dirt around somehow seemed warm. worn out yet smiling

the gentle sweep of your sleeves while working side by side brought a cozy kind of comfort. whenever he bumped into you, a grin slipped out, no matter how hard you fought it. bits fell from the countertop like sweet flakes, piling up in little heaps that set you giggling once more. just wiping things down somehow became woven into the moment you both kept.

then again, the last plate got cleaned. surface scrubbed down. you dropped onto the sofa

the cushions cradle you, cozy and inviting, making tension fade right away. beyond you, the kitchen hums with a gentle heat, lit by strings of flickering bulbs. weight shifts down as you ease into the seat, worn out yet satisfied deep inside.

the tree's lights shimmered low, spreading a gentle warmth through the space. inside, it felt snug, humming with soft giggles. you sank into riwoo, hand slipping into his, while a quiet grin tugged at your lips

the lights flickered, little sparks dancing on the glass. inside, everything seemed hushed - warm light, quiet hum, a space that held its breath. then your skin touched his, fingers slipping together like they fit from before. heat rose where you met, drifting up through your ribs, soft as smoke.

you whispered, "im glad we did this"

your voice seemed kind of drowsy, muffled by the cozy space and hours passing slow. somehow the phrases just came, no effort needed.

he softly hummed - just a little noise that somehow fixed the whole world. a tiny tune, yet it brought calm like nothing else could

his low hum trembled near your shoulder - gentle like a warm wrap tucked tight. It carried what words never had to say.

the quiet beyond seemed calm, almost as if the snow had curled up for sleep too. hours passed, yet cinnamon lingered in every breath. those tiny homes sat firm on the tabletop, kind of standing watch over moments you lived.

christmas without him wouldn't feel like christmas - no way

the idea landed gently inside you, cozy like a quiet certainty. no pressure at all. simply there.

plain, truthful, shining like the bulbs on a pine.

__________________________________________

MORE WORKS

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 💔😭💔😭💔😭💔

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

A boy—no, a young man—sitting on the low stone wall directly across from your stall. Boots dusty, hair a little mussed, a lute leaned against his leg, parchment balanced on his knee. He’s still, but not idle. His quill taps the page. Tap-tap. Pause. Tap-tap-tap. His brow furrows. He sighs. He stares at the sky like it offended him.

You’re supposed to be sorting plums.

You’re absolutely not supposed to be watching the way his lips move silently, like he’s testing lyrics in his head.

“Stop staring,” your mother murmurs from behind you, not even looking up. “You’ll drop the fruit.”

“I’m not staring,” you say, nearly dropping a plum.

“Mm.”

You turn away, cheeks hot, and focus on your hands. Fruit is easy. Firm vs. soft. Good vs. bad. One goes in the basket, one goes in the discard crate. You understand that.

You do not understand the boy with the lute who looks frustrated at paper.

Later, when the lunch rush has faded and the sun hangs lazily above the rooftops, you hear him again. Not music—just a groan of pure despair.

“Oh, come on,” he mutters, voice just loud enough to carry. “Why is this so bad?”

You sneak a glance.

He’s leaned back, head tilted, eyes narrowed at the parchment like they’re in a fight. From this angle, you can just barely see ink on the page. Lines. Words. One half-finished sentence that your brain, traitor that it is, tries to read.

The girl in the market, framed by the sun–

Your heart stutters.

You shouldn’t be reading that. That’s not your business. He could be writing about any girl. Probably is. The market is full of them. You clutch a plum too tightly and feel the skin give under your fingers.

“Stupid line,” he sighs. “It doesn’t even mean anything.”

Without thinking—without meaning to—you mumble, “It does.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you freeze.

He heard you.

His head turns. Eyes—warm, dark, surprising up close—land on you. He blinks.

“Oh,” he says.

You consider sinking into the cobblestones.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, hands flying up. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t reading, I just—heard you, and I— I’ll stop talking now.”

He just… laughs. Not meanly. It’s light and a little breathless, like he wasn’t expecting to be entertained by the fruit seller’s daughter.

“It’s alright,” he says. “I was sort of yelling at it. Kind of hard to miss.”

You stare down at the plum in your hands like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“I just meant,” you say quietly, “that it did mean something.”

His attention sharpens. He sits forward a little, quill still between his fingers. “Yeah?”

“It’s… a picture,” you say, feeling incredibly foolish. “You can see her. The sun, the market. It’s not meaningless.”

He lifts the parchment, squinting at the line. “Hm. Maybe. It just feels… empty. Like I’m pretending to know her.”

You swallow.

Your eyes flicker to the words again before you can stop them.

The girl in the market, framed by the sun—

Hands stained with sweetness, a story begun…

Your brain quietly offers an ending: Too busy to chase the dream she’s spun.

You snap your gaze away. Absolutely not. No.

“Maybe…” you say instead, voice barely audible, “it’s not that you don’t know her. It’s that she doesn’t think she’s worth knowing. So it feels incomplete.”

He blinks. “That’s… strangely specific for a hypothetical.”

You flush. “I sell fruit,” you mumble. “I make up stories in my head sometimes. That’s all.”

He stares at you for a long breath.

“What was that line you just thought?” he asks.

You choke. “What line?”

“The one you didn’t say,” he says calmly. “You looked at the page, then you looked extremely offended at yourself. There was definitely a line.”

You grip the edge of the stall. “It was nothing. Just stupid.”

He stands.

You instinctively step back, heart hammering, but he only walks those few steps to your stall and holds the parchment between you, setting the scene like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Can I hear your ‘stupid’ line?” he asks, eyes honest. “Just once. If it’s truly terrible I promise to mock it kindly.”

You’re acutely aware of your father on the far end of the stall and your mother sorting crates behind you. They’re not paying attention, but they could, at any second. Your throat feels tight.

“It’s really not—”

“Please?”

He says it softly, like he actually cares about your answer.

You take a shaky breath.

“Just… maybe…” you whisper, “…‘too busy to chase the dream she’s spun’?”

It sounds worse out loud. You wince, already regretting it.

He goes very still.

“That’s—” He lets out a startled laugh. “That’s good.”

You stare at him. “What?”

“‘Too busy to chase the dream she’s spun’,” he repeats, trying the rhythm. “It fits. And it gives her something. A conflict. A reason. That’s so much better than what I had.”

“It was just a thought,” you say quickly.

“And sometimes thoughts are lines,” he says, like that’s obvious. “I’m stealing it.”

He snatches his own quill up before you can argue and scribbles the words onto the parchment.

You watch, hands still hovering.

“You don’t have to use it,” you mumble. “It’s not… I’m not a—”

“Bard?” he supplies, glancing up with a crooked smile. “I noticed. We tend to come with instruments.”

You huff despite yourself.

He holds his ink-smudged hand out. “Sungho,” he says. “Line thief. Bard. Occasional nuisance.”

You hesitantly put your hand in his. His palm is warm. His grip is careful.

You tell him your name.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he says, and you realize with a jolt that he’s noticed you before. “You should come to the inn tonight. I’ll sing your line.”

Your brain short-circuits. “I– what? No. I can’t. I have to be up before dawn, and the stall, and—”

He lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright. Busy girl in the market. Just thought I’d ask.” Something sparkles in his eyes. “But I am using the line.”

“Thief,” you murmur.

“Proudly,” he says. “I’ll credit you under my breath where no one can hear it.”

He gives you one more bright grin and melts back into the flow of the market, like a piece of music fading into the background.

You stare after him, a little dazed.

Your mother nudges you with a crate. “He’s trouble,” she says lightly.

“He’s a bard,” you say.

“Same thing,” she replies.

You don’t disagree.

But you do spend the rest of the day with the rhythm of too busy to chase the dream she’s spun echoing in your head.

…

You end up at the inn.

You tell yourself it’s because your father needed someone to bring over a late basket of peaches. That’s not technically a lie. The innkeeper did send a boy with a message. Your father did grumble about the timing.

You didn’t have to be the one to deliver them.

The common room is loud and hot, full of voices and clinking cups and smells you could categorize with your eyes closed: roasted meat, spilled ale, burning wood. You keep your grip tight on the basket. It anchors you.

“Ah, perfect, just in time,” the innkeeper’s wife says, taking the peaches from you. “Your father spoils us.”

You murmur something polite, shifting your weight, half turned toward the door already.

And then a familiar voice lifts above the murmur.

“This one’s new,” he says, adjusting his grip on the lute. “About a girl in the market who doesn’t know she belongs in a song.”

Your head snaps up.

When he starts to play, the noise dims like someone’s turned down a dial.

He meets your gaze across the room. Doesn’t look away.

Your heart stutters.

His voice is… warm. That’s the first thing you notice. Not overly polished, not distant and perfect like some traveling minstrels. It’s raw and bright and alive, threading through laughter and clinking mugs with an ease that makes you think of sunlight slipping through shutters.

The first verse is his. You can tell by the flow, the way the imagery unfurls a bit grandly. But then he reaches the second part, and you hear your words.

The girl in the market, framed by the sun,

Hands stained with sweetness, a story begun,

Too busy to chase the dream she’s spun—

Your breath catches.

He changed a few words, smoothed the line, but it’s still undeniably yours.

You feel exposed and hidden all at once. No one here knows. To them, it’s just another verse, another charming detail. But to you, that line is a secret, whispered in the space between you and the fruit crates, airing now in the open like laundry on a line.

The song goes on, painting a picture of a girl who’s always working, always giving, always putting herself last. A girl who thinks dreams are for people with lighter baskets and fewer responsibilities. A girl who doesn’t realize someone is watching, writing, turning her into something worth singing about.

He never says your name.

He doesn’t have to.

When the song ends, the room applauds. You clap too, hands moving automatically, even as your chest feels too tight.

He bows. Looks at you again. His eyes are gentle.

He’s not laughing at you.

He’s trying to tell you something.

That thought is almost scarier than the idea of being mocked.

You try to avoid him the next day.

It’s not that you’re upset. Exactly. It’s just that you don’t know what to do with the way your stomach flips when you think about that song, about your line, about the fact that he saw you so clearly when you’ve spent most of your life trying not to be seen at all.

So you focus on work. On stacking fruit. On counting coins. On anything that is solid and simple and won’t look you in the eyes and ask you to sing your own fears out loud.

It’s a good plan.

It lasts until mid-morning.

“Busy girl in the market,” a familiar voice says. “Do you ever take breaks?”

You jump, nearly dropping the basket of pears. “Don’t do that,” you hiss, heart racing.

Sungho raises his hands in surrender, eyes wide with harmless innocence. “Sorry,” he says. “I would have announced myself with a fanfare, but the lute isn’t exactly… subtle.”

“I noticed,” you mutter, remembering the way his music filled the inn.

He leans against the stall, folding his arms. He’s wearing the same shirt as yesterday, sleeves rolled and laces loose, but there’s a new piece of parchment tucked into his belt. His fingers tap an absent rhythm against the wood.

“So,” he says. “Did my performance earn your approval, oh mysterious critic of lines?”

You busy yourself with rearranging apples that don’t need rearranging. “You used it.”

“Of course I used it,” he says, scandalized. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrug. “It was just… an example.”

He tilts his head. “Did you hate it?”

“What? No! I just…” You bite your lip. “It was strange. Hearing it like that. In front of everyone.”

“Good strange?” he asks, softer now.

You want to say yes.

You also want to say no, because if you admit it felt good, you’re admitting something bigger: that a part of you liked being seen. That a part of you liked the idea that your thoughts could matter beyond the stall.

You settle on, “I don’t know.”

He nods like that’s an acceptable answer. “Fair.”

Silence falls, but it’s not uncomfortable. He watches the crowd. You watch him watching the crowd.

“New song?” you ask before you can stop yourself, nodding at the parchment.

“Trying to be,” he sighs. “Yesterday you made it seem so easy, I thought maybe you cursed me. The muse only visits when you’re nearby.”

Your ears burn. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a thread of sincerity underneath. “It’s true.”

You fidget. “What are you stuck on this time?”

He brightens instantly, like a candle catching flame. “You are going to help me, then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you asked,” he points out, grinning. “That’s practically an invitation.”

He pulls the parchment free and smooths it on the counter between the baskets. You lean in despite yourself, breathing in the faint scent of ink and paper beneath the heavier smells of fruit and market dust.

“It’s supposed to be a duet,” he explains. “Two voices. One who travels, one who stays. I’ve got the traveler.” He taps one side of the page, where lines are already spilling down in neat, slanting script. “I don’t have the one who stays.”

Your fingers hover over the blank half of the page.

The lines he’s written are full of wide roads and open skies, cities and seas and songs sung in far-off taverns. They’re beautiful. They’re everything your life is not.

“What would someone staying even say to that?” you murmur.

“That,” he says softly, “is exactly what I want to know.”

You exhale slowly. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears.

“I really should be selling these peaches,” you say weakly.

“No one’s here right now,” he counters. “I swear on my lute, the moment a customer appears, I’ll move aside and let you overcharge them for the best plums in the kingdom.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smiles, not denying it.

Your gaze drifts back to the page.

I walked a hundred roads and still I roam…

You hear a reply in your head, soft and stubborn at once: I’ve never left this town and still I call it home.

You clamp your mouth shut.

“Anything?” Sungho asks, watching your face like he’s trying to read the lyrics there.

You shake your head, stepping back. “I don’t— It’s not my place.”

“Who decided that?” His tone isn’t sharp, just curious.

“It’s just… I help here,” you say, gesturing to the stall. “My parents need me. I don’t have time for songs.”

He studies you for a long moment.

“Is that what you want,” he asks quietly, “or what you’ve accepted?”

The question knocks the breath out of you.

“I should get back to work,” you say, voice tight.

He nods, pushing the parchment away without argument. “Alright,” he says lightly. “But if any lines happen to wander into your head while you’re stacking cherries, feel free to send them my way.”

“I won’t,” you say.

He chuckles. “We’ll see.”

And then he’s gone, weaving back into the market.

You stare at the empty space he leaves behind.

I’ve never left this town and still I call it home, your mind whispers traitorously.

You do not write it down.

…

The push and pull becomes a rhythm of its own.

Sungho appears at your stall nearly every day after that, always at the edges of rushes when you’re too busy to talk much—or when you’re just idle enough that he can steal your focus without feeling like he’s truly stealing it.

He brings half-finished verses, humming melodies under his breath. Sometimes he asks you specific questions: “Does this sound too dramatic?” “Is this image too silly?” “Do you like ‘narrow street’ or ‘winding lane’ better?”

Sometimes he just talks about nothing in particular: a funny thing he saw in the next town over, a song an old man taught him by the riverside, a story he’s heard about lands beyond the mountains. His life stretches far beyond the boundaries of your familiar streets, and every time he shares, you feel your world expand just a little more.

You never mean to help.

It just… happens.

But as he encourages you more,

“I have to work,” you say, your favorite shield. “That’s the life I have.”

“Lives can have more than one song,” he says softly.

You don’t answer.

But when he leaves that day, you find he’s “forgotten” a scrap of parchment on your stall. It’s small, folded once, a little messy.

You unfold it that night in your tiny room, lamp flickering.

I walked a hundred roads and still I roam,

You’ve never left this town and still you call it home.

Your breath catches.

He wrote it.

The line you refused to say.

Your fingers tremble as you trace the ink.

Without meaning to, you whisper the next line aloud.

“I carry all these places in my chest,” you murmur, “but you’re the only place that ever feels like rest.”

You fold the parchment back up like a secret and tuck it under your pillow.

Just for tonight, you tell yourself.

It stays there for many nights after.

…

The budding romance doesn’t appear all at once. It grows in the quiet spaces between songs and stalls.

You don’t talk about it. Not directly. There’s no confession, no dramatic declaration under the moonlight.

Instead, there’s this:

“It’s almost time for me to move on,” he says one day, voice light but eyes careful as he plucks at his lute near your stall. “Another town, another inn, more people to torment with my endless verses.”

Your chest tightens. You focus on polishing a pear that doesn’t need polishing.

“Of course,” you say. You knew he was a traveler. You’ve always known that this… whatever it is… exists in a bubble that would eventually pop.

“You’ll have to write without me,” he says, trying for teasing. “I expect at least three new songs about the market when I come back.”

“Who says I’ll be here when you come back?” you joke weakly.

He falters.

“You leaving?” he asks quietly.

You look at your hands. Your parents. The stall. The town you’ve never left.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

It’s the first time you’ve allowed yourself to say that out loud.

He watches you for a long moment.

“You could,” he says. “You know that, right? You’re allowed to want something else.”

“I don’t know how,” you say. “I’m… scared.”

He nods.

“Then start small,” he says. “Write with me today.”

You blink. “That’s small?”

“It’s a step,” he says. “And steps add up.”

You look at the market. It’s busy, but your parents are handling the other side of the stall. No one is at your counter right now. The world hasn’t ended in the five minutes you’ve stolen before. Maybe you can steal a few more.

“Just… a verse,” you say again, like a charm.

“Just a verse,” he agrees.

You work on the duet. On the lines between leaving and staying, between roads and doorsteps. He suggests something grand; you temper it with something grounded. You offer a quiet image; he finds the way to make it sing. Your words start to weave together, no longer easily separable into his and yours.

Your shoulders brush, and neither of you move away.

When you laugh at one of his more ridiculous rhymes, he looks at you, really looks, and the sound dies on your tongue as your eyes meet.

The world narrows down to ink and parchment and the space between your faces.

He leans in, just a little.

Your heart stutters.

Then someone calls your name from the other side of the stall, and the moment breaks like a soap bubble.

You jerk back, face burning. He clears his throat, fingers fumbling with the quill.

“Right,” he says, a little hoarse. “Duty calls.”

You force your thoughts back to baskets, coins, weights on scales.

But the line you write together that afternoon stays with you more than any sale.

You wander, I anchor, yet somehow we find,

A home in the verses where our worlds intertwine.

…

He leaves a week later.

Not for good, he promises. “I’ll be back when the stories here have grown without me,” he says with a lopsided smile. “Can’t have you out-writing me while I’m gone.”

You hug your arms around yourself, trying to hold yourself together.

“You’ll forget,” you say before you can stop yourself. “New towns, new songs, new… girls in markets.”

His expression softens.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. “Look at me.”

You do.

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of parchments. You recognize some of them—the duet, the girl in the market song, half-finished verses you helped shape. Others are new.

“These,” he says, pressing them into your hands, “are ours. Keep them safe for me, alright?”

Your throat tightens. “Ours,” you repeat quietly.

“Ours,” he confirms. “Proof that you’re a bard, whether you admit it or not.”

You clutch the papers like a lifeline.

“And this,” he adds, reaching into his pocket, “is for when you miss me too much.”

You snort, an unexpected laugh bursting through the sadness. “That assumes I’ll miss you at all.”

He grins. “You will.”

He presses a small, folded scrap into your palm. You unfold it to find a single line.

I walked a hundred roads and still I roam…

You look up, confused.

He taps your chest gently, right over your heart.

“You already know the answer,” he says.

Your eyes sting.

“Sungho,” you say, his name catching on something in your chest.

He inhales, like he’s about to say something important. Something heavy.

Then he seems to think better of it.

Instead, he smiles, soft and sure, and reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Keep writing,” he says. “Even if it’s just in your head. Even if it’s between weighing apples and counting coins. I’ll want to hear everything when I come back.”

“When you come back,” you echo, clinging to the certainty in his tone.

He nods.

“And next time,” he adds, eyes warm, “I’m not letting you hide behind the stall. We’re singing that duet at the inn.”

Your heart stumbles. “In front of everyone?”

“In front of everyone,” he says. “Or no one. Whatever you’re ready for.” He squeezes your hand around the parchment. “Just promise me you won’t pretend this part of you doesn’t exist anymore.”

You look down at your ink-smudged fingers. At the words that have started to feel less like accidents and more like choices.

“I promise,” you whisper.

His smile widens.

“Good,” he says softly. “Then this isn’t goodbye. It’s just… a verse break.”

You laugh through the ache in your chest. “That’s a terrible metaphor,” you say.

“I’m workshopping it,” he says. “I’ll ask my favorite co-writer for notes when I’m back.”

And then, before you can overthink it, he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead.

It’s a brief touch. Chaste. But it sends warmth flooding through you, from your hairline down to your toes.

When he pulls back, his cheeks are pink, but his eyes are steady.

“Take care, busy girl in the market,” he murmurs.

“Take care, ridiculous bard,” you reply.

He laughs, steps back, and shouldering his lute, he walks toward the road.

You watch until he’s just a speck in the distance.

Then you look down at the parchment in your hand.

I walked a hundred roads and still I roam…

“I’ve never left this town and still I call it home,” you murmur, “but my heart’s learned the sound of your traveling song.”

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

NETWORKS: @onedoornet @k-records

First @astrae4 files a cultural report as Sungho ( itinerant minstrel and part-time menace ), proves that co-writing a song is still one of December’s fastest routes to emotional residence!

@hollyoongs quickly follows with Jaehyun, who confirms through handcrafted evidence that gift-making remains a high-yield tactic for restoring the national mood.

@taestulipss then breaks the story that Taesan’s pillow-fort reconstruction project has—against all predictions—also rebuilt a dormant friendship.

@gyurilla contributes a lifestyle segment in which Riwoo’s gingerbread engineering test results in unprecedented levels of sugar-driven domestic calm.

@ihankaji then enters with breaking visuals of Woonhak, whose tree-decorating initiative has escalated into a full-scale charm offensive!

Lastly, @moesthinking signs off with Leehan, who demonstrates during a late-night cocoa briefing that quality time is still the most reliable emergency response protocol.

CONCLUSION? Home is a VERB!

Our investigation concludes that Step One isn’t about the object; it’s about the making. Stirring, tying, taping, singing—it turns strangers to neighbors, friends to almost, almost to oh. Today’s front page reads: Comfort Located. See Inside for Instructions.

Coming Up in Doorstep Daily: Step Two: Give What You Can’t Wrap. Rumored topics: time, listening, courage, and the kind of confession that makes the lights lean closer. Ready when you are.

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

NETWORKS: @k-records @onedoornet

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 HUGS | @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: Christmas, the season of giving. Gifts, not pain. Happiness, not misery. And certainly, love, not heartbreak. So he tries his best to smile and be civilized, with the person that he spent 16 winters with until they left 6 years ago. For this season is not just for giving, but also forgiving.

pairing. jaehyun x reader, helping at a charity event

genre. fluff, romance, childhood friends to acquaintances to ???, slight angst

warnings. hospital scene (childbirth, not heavily described), lost and grieving of pet dog, swearing, quarreling, kissing

published. 11 December, 2025. WC. 3.5k

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! | @ring4hiy

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: BACK TO DECEMBER | @coriihanniee

SYNOPSIS: Christmas was a beginning before it became an ending. Years after a fight that left everything fractured and his departure turned the holiday into a memory you could no longer celebrate, you find what he left behind—a truth you weren't meant to discover, a confession that unravels everything. What you can't wrap, you can only give. What you couldn't say then, you must say now.

pairing. leehan x reader, confessing your feelings

genre. fluff, angst w/ comfort, childhood friends to strangers to lovers

warnings. angst, past argument

published. 14 December, 2025. WC. 3.5k

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 @kyusqult @cherryblossomlovesblog @pluslandminun @ivxae @chwrrydolly

NETWORKS: @k-records @onedoornet