The snow fell outside, thin and constant, covering the garden with a white mantle. The fireplace in the living room was lit, slapping slowly. You had a mug of hot chocolate in your hands, wrapped in a blanket with Joey, who was wearing a big and too soft sweatshirt even for him.

The Christmas movie was on TV. Joey pretended not to be interested, but his hand was intertwined in yours, and his thumb made slow circles on the back of his hand.

“Are you really the type who cries watching ‘They forgot about me’?” He provoked.

“Shh. This part is emotional.” you replied, laughing softly.

He got closer, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“I’ve never really had Christmas, you know?”

You turned your face, touching your nose to his.

“Now there is.”

Joey was silent for a while. Then, he kissed her temple slowly.

“With you, the cold is just scenery. Because here...” he touched his own chest, “...it’s already hot.”

You smiled, touching your face to his.

“I’m your Christmas home.”

“You are always my home.”