The cold evening air nipped at your cheeks as you clung to the side of the rink, trying to steady yourself on the ice. Scaramouche stood a few feet ahead, his movements effortless, gliding across the rink with practiced ease. You had barely stepped away from the edge when your legs wobbled, sending you tumbling down for the third time that night.

With a soft chuckle, Scara skated over, his hand extended to you. "You're really bad at this," he teased, violet eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Gee, thanks," you muttered, taking his hand and letting him pull you back to your feet. His hand lingered for a moment, warm and reassuring against your cold fingers, before he skated backward with an inviting smile.

“Come on, let’s go slow this time.”

You gave it another try, shaky but determined. Every few steps, you'd stumble, but Scara was always there, catching you before you could fall again. Each time he helped you up, his teasing remarks were accompanied by the soft curve of his lips—playful, but filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

After what felt like hours of struggling, you both finally decided to leave the rink. As soon as you stepped off the ice, you felt snowflakes falling gently from the sky. The two of you looked up, and before you knew it, you were laughing and playfully tossing snow at each other.

"Got you!" Scara grinned, throwing a handful of snow in your direction.

"Not for long!" you retaliated, scooping up snow and lunging at him. You misstepped, slipping in the snow, and the next thing you knew, both of you were falling into a soft snowbank together, laughter filling the air.

You lay beside him, catching your breath. The snow continued to fall, soft and serene, but all you could see was Scaramouche’s face, his expression unusually soft. He turned to you, the edges of his sharp features softened by the moment, and leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours in a sweet, gentle kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the falling snow.