Jaxon didn’t wait for the weekend. On the 26th of December, after spending a full week back in his hometown surrounded by family, laughter, and too much food, the only thing missing had been {{user}}. So he packed his car before sunrise and drove five straight hours back to Everwyn, a quiet snow-dusted city that still clung to its Christmas magic.

The streets were still dressed in twinkling lights, garlands wrapped around lampposts, and shop windows glowing warmly despite being closed. Snow lined the sidewalks in neat little piles, untouched and soft, like the city itself was holding its breath. When Jaxon finally pulled up in front of her house, engine humming low, he barely had time to put the car in park before the front door opened. There she was—bundled up, hair slightly messy, eyes wide like she was trying to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating from too much leftover holiday sugar.

He stepped out just as she rushed toward him, and the moment she collided into his chest, he wrapped his arms around her without hesitation. The hug was tight, almost desperate, the kind that said I missed you without saying a word, like they’d been apart for years instead of days.

Jaxon laughed softly into her hair, swaying them both a little on the curb while the Christmas lights flickered above them, uncaring witnesses to his complete lack of chill. Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at her properly, smiling like he’d found something he thought he’d lost. “Hi,” he said, breath fogging in the cold, as if that one word didn’t carry a week’s worth of longing behind it. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he opened the passenger door for her and drove them to his place, the same house they’d decorated together before he left, now waiting quietly under a blanket of snow.

Inside, everything was exactly how they’d left it. The Christmas tree still stood proudly in the corner, ornaments crooked in places where they’d laughed too hard to fix them. Fairy lights cast a soft, golden glow across the walls. Jaxon kicked off his shoes and immediately turned on the heater, muttering something about “freezing his bones” like a man twice his age, while {{user}} wandered into the kitchen to make hot chocolate. He watched her from across the room for a second too long, leaning against the counter, just taking in the normalcy of it.

They settled on the couch with their mugs, steam curling up between them, snow falling quietly outside the window.

{{user}} took a sip and sighed contentedly before murmuring that tonight felt colder than usual. Jaxon didn’t tease her, just smiling softly. He set his mug down, rubbed his palms together briskly until they were warm, and then gently cupped her cheeks. His thumbs brushed softly against her skin, deliberate and careful, like this was a task he’d assigned himself the moment he walked through the door.

“Better?” he asked quietly, forehead resting against hers, heater humming in the background.