Christmas, for as long as I can remember, has been nothing more than an ordinary day. I never felt the childhood excitement of lying awake, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. Having me as the 'illegitimate bastard mistake' threatened my stepmother's perfect family image. Elizabeth made it abundantly clear that I wasn't welcome to spend Christmas with my father or my half-siblings. To make matters worse, my mother rarely used the child support money she received on me. I can't recall us ever doing anything special for the holiday. There was no decorated tree, no exchanging of presents, and heaven forbid we shared a meal that cost more than absolutely necessary. It wasn't until I turned 16 and moved in with Grandpa Red that I finally experienced the joy of unwrapping a Christmas present on the actual day.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the mattress sagging beneath me as I stared into the space ahead. I was lost in thought while my hands cradled a small wooden box with gentle reverence. My thumb instinctively traced the intricate carving on the lid, following the delicate line of the sweet pea. The design was etched in my memory like a familiar melody. After 16 years, I could recall every detail with perfect clarity. Those years had been restless, filled with tumult and change. Yet one thing remained constant—the music box my grandfather had given me for Christmas. It was my most cherished possession, so much so that it was the first thing I packed in my duffle bag when I went on the run after Tae's murder.

I slowly pushed the lid open, feeling the solid weight of the wood beneath my fingers. Though the music had long since fallen silent when the mechanism broke many years ago, the sweet melody still played clearly in my mind. My index finger traced the short, heartfelt message inside as if touching the words could somehow bring me closer to my grandfather again.

'Sweet Pea, may your heart always find its melody. Love always, Grandpa Red.'

As I closed the lid, a soft knock echoed through the door before it creaked open. Yeosang stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the surroundings before settling on me.

"Merry Christmas, Bonsai!" Yeosang exclaimed, his voice as bright and festive as the Hawaiian shirt he wore, adorned with vibrant palm trees and cheerful patterns. "Ready for food, festivities, and fireworks?" I wanted to match his enthusiasm, but I felt more like the Grinch. Sensing my reluctance, he softened his tone and asked, "Bonnie, talk to me. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Yeo," I replied, my voice betraying a lack of conviction even to myself. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding eye contact because I knew he would see right through me.

Of course, Yeosang wasn't fooled—he was an experienced FBI interrogator, after all. He stepped closer and gently tilted my chin up, compelling me to meet his steady and concerned gaze. "Let's try the truth now, Bonnie. How are you really feeling?"

I tried to hold back the tears, but they spilt over in silent, uncontrollable waves. "I feel fractured," I choked out. "I don't know who I am anymore. When I'm with you or Yoongi, I can be myself. But the guilt of lying to our friends about who I really am, what my name is... It's consuming me. I'm terrified of Hoseok and the gang finding me." I looked at Yeosang, who had the saddest expression on his face. I could tell he wished he could fix everything but he can't. "I'm not afraid of dying. But if anything happened to Yoongi, you, or anyone else because of me... that would be worse than death."

Yeo pulled me into his chest and held me tight as I broke down. My voice quivered as I continued, "What makes it worse is that Yoongi's been away in Europe for a month. It was supposed to be just a couple of weeks but one of his deals has had so many problems. I haven't had a proper conversation with him in ten days. I promised myself I wouldn't be that clingy girlfriend who pines over her partner when he's away for work. But, for goodness' sake... I miss him so much."

His arms around my waist tightened. "I'm sorry, Bonsai. I know it's hard, but you're not alone in this. The case won't last forever; you have to have faith in Namjoon and Jungkook." He pressed a soft kiss into my hair before resting his head on mine. "You need to remember that you're not a bad person. What's happening is out of your control. Who you are as Bonnie is the same as who you truly are—just with a different name and profession."

He gently gestured towards the music box. "You want to tell me about this?"

For the fourth time in my life, I opened up about my unhappy childhood. Unlike Seokjin and Louisa who were both ready to throttle my mother, Yeosang responded much like Yoongi did. "I can say with complete honesty that it's their loss—Elizabeth's and your mother's, not yours," he stated with unwavering certainty. "You are one of the most remarkable people I've ever met, and I know our family of misfits would agree."

His words sent tears streaming down my face. Yeosang shifted on the bed, turning to face me, and gently wiped the wet tracks from my cheeks with his thumbs. "Family isn't always about blood—it's about who you choose to surround yourself with. So, why don't you take a shower and get all dolled up? I'll find something special for you to wear. I'm excited to celebrate your very first Hawaiian family Christmas with you and our chosen family. How does that sound?"

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸🖤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

As everyone settled into the available chairs in Hongjoong and San's living room, my gaze kept drifting back to their Christmas tree. It was one of the most beautifully decorated trees I had ever seen. I suspected it was San's handiwork, especially since Hongjoong had been preoccupied with organising and putting on his school's Christmas concert.

The couple had adapted to living together seamlessly. When Seonghwa and Michelle moved in together, San was searching for a new roommate. Then, when Hongjoong's place unexpectedly went on the market and he had to move out, inviting his boyfriend to live with him was an easy decision. Despite occasional squabbles—often triggered by Hongjoong's stress over his divorce that kept being drawn out thanks to his ex—their relationship seemed to be flourishing.

"And this one is for..." Jongho, who was handing out presents, paused to read the label. "...Poppy!" Like the other gifts, this one was passed around until it finally reached her.

With the influx of new faces in our friend group this year, we decided to switch things up and do Secret Santa instead of buying presents for everyone. This way, each person received a thoughtfully chosen gift from a randomly assigned member of the group. I'd received Mingi, who loved the coffee table book on tattoo art that I had gifted him. He looked so proud and excited as he showed it off to everyone. As soon as I saw it in the bookstore, I knew he would appreciate the vibrant colours and intricate designs.

Poppy carefully slipped her finger beneath the edge of the wrapping paper, gently prising the tape loose. Her unwrapping was done with such reverence as if the paper itself were the most precious thing in the world. When she finally uncovered her gift, the sheer wonder on her face was unforgettable.

"Whoever picked me, thank you," she gushed, her eyes welling with tears. With an excited flourish, she unveiled the chocolate-brown leather bag, modelling it proudly for everyone to admire.

I glanced over at Yeosang, who wore a soft, satisfied smile. When he'd pulled out Poppy's name, he had been uncertain about what to get her. While we were shopping, I recalled a conversation she and I had a few weeks earlier. Poppy mentioned she wanted to find a new brown leather tote bag during the after-Christmas sales, as her old one had recently broken.

Jungho picked up another gift, glanced at the label, and I noticed his smile falter. "This one is for Yoongi," he said, his tone saddening.

My friends all wore melancholic smiles, their faces reflecting the weight of Yoongi's absence. The void left by his absence was palpable, especially in the subdued grins of Jimin and Seonghwa. Their usual radiant smiles, which could light up any room, now carried a trace of sadness—like a cloudy day stubbornly refusing to clear. Without him by their side, the brothers' once-sparkling eyes had lost some of their lustre.

"I'll take it home, and he can open it when he gets back," I said, wishing Yoongi were there to unwrap it himself. "Thank you to whoever drew his name. I know he'll love and cherish whatever you picked out for him." Michelle nodded, confirming that she was the one who had been his Secret Santa.

The rest of the gift exchange was filled with smiles and laughter. Everyone was pleasantly surprised when it was revealed that the gift Yoongi had bought was under the tree. I, however, wasn't surprised at all. My boyfriend was so organised—mere hours after drawing Hwa's name, he had already secured a pair of the incredibly limited-edition sneakers his youngest brother had been eyeing in the online pre-order. Given that only 50 pairs were made worldwide, I was in awe of how my boyfriend managed to pull it off.

The potluck-style lunch was a delightful feast, with each of us contributing a dish. When Wooyoung brought out the turkey he had cooked, a single tear slipped down my cheek. I couldn't believe that it had taken me 32 Christmases to finally have a turkey on the table.

There was no way my mother would ever spend that type of money on a single meal, so I was lucky when I got a 'fancy' frozen dinner to eat while watching Christmas movies by myself. When I lived with Grandpa Red in Boston, cooking up a whole turkey felt excessive for just the two of us. In New York, after I started working at Copacabana, I spent Christmas with Seokjin and Louisa. For our first holiday together, we celebrated at a local Chinese restaurant, and that became our annual tradition.

Seeing this turkey now, surrounded by friends and festive cheer, made me understand why people cherished the holiday. The only thing that could have made it better would have been having my boyfriend beside me, his hand resting on my thigh in its usual place.

"Whose ass do I need to kick for making my girlfriend cry?"

I started massaging my temple, trying to ease the pounding headache that had been building. The sleepless nights must have taken their toll, as I was convinced I heard Yoongi's voice. But that couldn't be right—he was in Europe. When I caught a whiff of his cologne, I was sure I was having a full-blown hallucination.

I grabbed my empty wine glass and stood up, heading towards the kitchen for some water. As I crossed the dining room, I glimpsed what I thought was Yoongi standing there. My exhausted mind couldn't accept it, though. I convinced myself it was just a figment of my overworked brain. It wasn't until Hongjoong took my glass, pushed me towards the apparition and went to get water that I realised that my boyfriend was actually in the dining room and not still in Europe.

When Yoongi opened his arms, I threw myself into them, sending us both tumbling to the floor. Instead of wincing in pain or complaining, he gently cradled my head, his thumb resting beneath my ear. He then gave me the kiss I had been yearning for over the past weeks. Instantly, I felt whole again, as if the part of me that had been missing was finally home.

Yoongi chuckled between breathless gasps as we finally separated. He gazed deeply into my eyes and whispered, "I missed you too, Angel. It's so good to be home."