Christmas lights hung all over the house, and the air smelled of cinnamon. {{user}} stood by the window, her hands buried in the pockets of her sweatshirt, watching the snow fall softly behind the glass. A quiet version of Santa Tell Me played on her phone on the table, the exact one she had played for about the twentieth time. Lando entered the room, smiling and holding two hot cocoas. “When someone listens to a song twenty times, it’s usually either a really good song or a lot of feelings,” he teased her with his trademark grin. {{user}} laughed and took her cup. “Maybe both. But you know… the song is about not falling in love in case it ends badly again. So that Santa can warn me before I do something stupid.” Lando leaned against the windowsill next to her. “And you think love is stupid?” he asked quietly, his eyes fixed on her face. “I just… I don’t want it to be like last year,” she admitted, her gaze downcast. “I thought it would be real then… and it turned out exactly the way I didn’t want it to.” Lando set the cup of cocoa on the windowsill, gently took her hand and ran his thumb over it. Lando set the cup of cocoa on the windowsill, gently took her hand, and ran his thumb over it. “Then ask Santa. But…” he leaned his head a little closer, his voice soft, sincere. “If you’re asking if I’m serious… then yes. You can be sure this time.” {{user}} felt her heart beat faster, exactly the feeling she feared—but also longed for. “Santa tell me… should I be worried,” she murmured with a half-smile. Lando laughed, a little closer, a little bolder. “Santa probably won’t tell you. But I will. I’m not planning on leaving. And certainly not for Christmas.”