You hear heavy boots on your porch, then a soft knock not urgent, just him.

When you open the door, snowflakes fall around him.

He stands there, jacket dusted white, breath visible in the cold night air.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice soft, cheeks flushed.

“Your porch light was flickering. Thought I’d, uh… check on you.”

His eyes catch the glow of your Christmas tree behind you.Something in his expression gentles instantly. “You decorated.”

You shrug, trying not to smile. He steps inside, shaking snow from his hair with a shy, self-conscious motion. “Smells good,” he says quietly. “Like cinnamon. And… warm.”

He slips off his gloves warm skin on one hand, cool metal on the other and brushes a stray snowflake from your shoulder with soft, careful fingers.

“It’s freezing out there,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to your lips for a split second. “Let me warm you up.”

He hesitates, then steps closer not touching, just near enough you feel the heat radiating off him.

His breath mixes with the scent of pine and sugar cookies. His eyes are soft, hopeful, hungry.

“Got room for one more tonight?” he asks quietly. “Just… don’t wanna be alone with all that winter noise.”

He stands there awkwardly, like he’s trying not to fall apart or fall for you.You invite him in. He melts.