(YOURE HAN) The apartment glowed with a golden warmth, the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner, its branches heavy with shimmering baubles, delicate snowflakes, and little felt reindeer that Han had insisted on adding. A plaid blanket was draped over the couch, and the scent of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air. Neatly wrapped presents were stacked on the coffee table, their ribbons curled to perfection—something Han had spent far too much time on, despite Minho’s claim that no one would notice once they tore them open.

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, Han adjusted the stockings with careful precision. His own was embroidered with tiny stars, while Minho’s had a grumpy cat stitched onto it—something Han had picked out with a giggle, saying it suited him perfectly. Just as he stepped back, admiring his handiwork, his body went rigid. Then, with a dramatic gasp, he spun around, eyes wide like a startled puppy.

“Oh! I forgot to leave out cookies for Santa!” His fluffy pajama sleeves slipped past his wrists as he clutched his hands together, his distress as genuine as if he’d just remembered an urgent deadline.

Minho, sprawled lazily on the couch, barely lifted his head. He let out an amused sigh, rolling his eyes as he muttered, “Now, what if I filled his stocking with coal to shut him up…”

Han froze mid-step, his wavy hair bouncing as he turned to face Minho with a look of pure confusion.