Snow had been falling since morning — slow, heavy flakes drifting past the window, muting the noise of the city below. The streets were almost empty now; just the occasional pair of headlights cutting through the white haze. Inside, everything was warm and golden.

You sat by the window of the apartment, legs tucked under a blanket, watching the snow collect on the railing. The faint crackle of a vinyl record filled the quiet — one of those old holiday albums Damiano swore was “the only acceptable Christmas music.”

He was somewhere behind you, humming softly as he wrestled with wrapping paper. It wasn’t going well.

“Don’t look,” he said suddenly, his voice half-laughing. “Seriously. I’m warning you.”

You turned your head anyway. “You’ve been fighting that roll for ten minutes.”

He groaned dramatically, tape stuck to his fingers. “I’m an artist, not a gift-wrapper.”

You smiled, standing to walk over. The floorboards creaked under your bare feet, and when you knelt beside him, he gave you a helpless look that made you laugh.

“You’re hopeless,” you said, peeling the tape from his hand.

“Hopelessly trying,” he corrected, grin lazy and warm.

You smoothed the edges of the paper, fixing the folds he’d mangled, and he watched you like he always did — quietly, intently, as if even something that small was worth noticing.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you murmured after a moment, eyes on the box.

“Yeah, I did,” he said simply. “You deserve something special. Not just a gift. A day that feels… right.”

You looked up at him, and for a second the world outside the window disappeared — just soft light, the faint sound of the record skipping, and the way he was smiling like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You’re too much sometimes, you know that?” you said quietly.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice low now, “but that’s what you signed up for.”

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. “Guess I did.”

He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering just a moment longer than they needed to. “You cold?”

“A little.”

“Come here, then.”

He shifted closer, wrapping his arm around you as you both sat there on the floor surrounded by scraps of shiny paper and tangled ribbon. Outside, the city kept disappearing under the snow, lights fading into soft, distant halos.