Connor still wasn’t used to this part yet—the quiet.

The rink lights were off, the city slower than usual, the season finally pausing just long enough to breathe. Snow pressed softly against the windows of his apartment, and for once, there was no alarm set for practice, no tape to review, no bags half-packed by the door. Just Christmas lights glowing low in the corner and you moving around the kitchen like you belonged there.

He leaned against the counter, watching you with a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his mouth.

“This is… kinda crazy,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. “I keep feelin’ like I forgot somethin’. Like I should be rushin’ somewhere.”

He shook his head, laughing under his breath, then stepped closer, resting his hip against the counter beside you. “Guess that’s what happens when you actually get a break, huh?”

Connor reached out absentmindedly, brushing his thumb along the edge of a mug, then glanced at the tree again—at the wrapped gifts underneath, the soft glow reflecting off the glass. His voice softened.

“I’ve done Christmas a million times,” he said, slower now. “But this one feels… different.” He paused, eyes flicking to you, then away again like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say the next part. “Better. Calmer.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly shy. “I mean—don’t get me wrong. I love my family. Always have.” A small smile returned. “But wakin’ up and knowin’ you’re here? That I don’t gotta split my time or count the hours?”

He exhaled, shoulders dropping like he’d been holding tension all season. “That’s new for me.”

Connor reached for you, gentle, fingers lacing loosely with yours. “I don’t need anything big,” he murmured. “No fancy plans. Just… this.” He gestured around the room, then squeezed your hand. “You, me, a couple days where the world slows down.”

Then, quieter, almost like he hoped you wouldn’t notice:

“Merry Christmas.”