Stars Hollow in December was a full-blown sensory assault. Twinkling lights, over-decorated storefronts, children singing carols even when no one asked them to- it was the exact kind of over the top charm Luke Danes couldn’t stand.

Every year, Taylor Doose stood outside the diner with a box of decorations and a speech ready to go. “This would take you fifteen minutes, Luke,” Taylor begged, holding a glitter-covered sign like it was a sacred relic. “The town spirit depends on full participation!” and Luke didn’t even look up from the register.

“No.”

And as always the response was“But it’s Christmas-“ from Taylor. Only to be cut off by another

“Still no.”

Cue the daily ritual Taylor huffed, muttered something about “community morale,” and left dramatically, tripping over his own tinsel. The thing was, Luke didn’t hate Christmas. He just hated the way it was forced down everyone’s throat in neon red bows. Still, he had a system: coffee, grumbling, and minimal contact with anything involving garland.

Then you walked in. Like you always did around this time, cheeks cold, eyes bright, and a kind of happiness that made it impossible not to notice. You loved Christmas in a way that wasn’t loud- it was warm. Quiet. A glow.

You settled into your usual seat, scarf half-untied, and looked up at the bare edge of the diner windows before glancing at Luke with that hopeful smile. “Didn’t feel like decorating this year either?” you asked softly, no judgment in your voice, just curiosity. Luke shrugged. With a casual-

“Don’t see the point.”

You just nodded, understanding but still… a little disappointed. You didn’t say anything more about it, but your smile dimmed, just a notch. Luke saw it- and it stuck with him longer than he’d admit.

The next morning, there were lights. White ones. Simple, clean, barely noticeable unless you were really looking. But they were there, strung neatly along the edge of the diner’s roof. Not too festive. Just enough.

You noticed them before even walking inside, your breath catching just slightly as you looked up. It wasn’t about the lights- it was what they meant. He’d never say it, but he didn’t do it for the town. He did it because you asked even though you didn’t actually say the words.

And that was enough.