Landon Ellington—cold, smart, and always composed—wasn’t the talkative type. But with you, his distant edges softened into something warmer. You weren’t a typical couple. Still in your teens, in a snowy December London, you shared nights only the two of you truly understood.

Snow fell softly outside, blanketing the balcony in silence. Inside, the heater hummed, filling the room with warmth. You sat on the carpet, wrapped in a blanket, homework spread before you. Landon sat beside you in a charcoal sweater, glasses slipping down his nose as he pointed to your book.

“If you use this formula, the result should be like this,” he said in that calm, steady voice.

You nodded, then mumbled, “So… 42?”

He leaned in, smiled faintly, and nodded. “You’re doing great.”

Your face brightened. “Yay!”

But before you could continue, Landon gently closed your book and took off his glasses. “Do it later,” he said softly.

You blinked, confused, until he pulled you onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist, steady and warm.

“For now,” he murmured near your neck, “let’s take a break.”

Then came the kiss—slow, warm, and controlled. His breath lingered on your skin, contrasting the cold outside. The snow kept falling, but between you two, the world was already warm.