♫ : winter falls - stray kids 

Christmas Eve afternoons had a unique kind of peacefulness. Soft sunlight streaming through frosted windows and the kind of chill that made you want to stay indoors.

You spent most of the morning cleaning up your apartment and finalizing an idea that had been brewing for days. Dumplings. The thought of steaming hot dumplings on Christmas Eve felt cozy and festive. You picked up your phone and typed a quick text to Jake:

[heyyy]
[are you free this afternoon?]
[i'm stealing the dumpling vendor's recipe and trying it out]
[wanna help?]

You sent it before second-guessing, the bubble of excitement in your chest winning over your nerves. When his reply came back less than a minute later, it was almost too on-brand.

Jake Sim: [stealing recipes???]
Jake Sim: [bold.]
Jake Sim: [be there in 30 seconds]

You barely had time to reread his message before a knock sounded at your door. Opening it, you blinked in surprise at Jake, who stood there in literal pajamas. He smiled sheepishly, his hair slightly messy as if he had just rolled out of bed.

"Didn't think you meant immediately," you said, stepping aside to let him in.

"What can I say?" he shrugged, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. "I live next door. Figured I'd save the dramatic entrance for when I need something."

Rolling your eyes, you motioned toward the kitchen counter, where the ingredients were already brought out. "Come on, dumpling chef number 2. Let's see if you can actually cook."

The process started off simple enough. Chopping mushrooms, mixing them with the ground pork and seasonings, and tasting as they went along (Jake insisted the filling needed more salt, and you insisted he was trying to sabotage you).

You demonstrated how to fold a classic sofa-shaped dumpling, carefully pinching the edges closed. "See? Simple. Just make sure there's no air inside, or it'll burst."

Jake furrowed his brows, holding up his attempt, which looked more like a deflated triangle.

"This... feels insulting to actual dumplings."

You laughed, reaching over to adjust it. "At least try to make it look edible!"

But Jake had other ideas. Soon, he was crafting increasingly bizarre shapes. A tiny triangle here, a dumpling sun there...

"What is that?" you asked, pointing at his latest creation.

"A masterpiece," Jake said. "Modern art in dumpling form."

"Looks like it's about to fall apart," you retorted, poking the misshaped wrapper.

"It has character."

Your kitchen was full of laughter as the tray of dumplings slowly filled. While the dumplings steamed, you set a random TV show to play in the background. Jake lounged on the couch, toying absentmindedly with the Christmas bunny plushie he'd given you.

"You really like that thing, huh?" you teased, joining him with two mugs of warm tea.

"I just think it's cute," he said, giving it a squeeze before setting it beside him.

Once the dumplings were ready, Jake insisted on taking charge. "Sit," he said, pointing to the couch. "You did the hard part, I'll handle the rest."

"You just want to avoid doing the dishes," you teased but still obliged, curling up with the blanket draped over the armrest of the couch.

The smell filled the room when Jake returned with the tray of dumplings. He sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, and spread the blanket over both of you. The first bite of the dumplings was heaven.

"Merry Christmas Eve," he said casually, raising his chopsticks in a mock toast.

"Merry Christmas Eve," you echoed.

You hummed in satisfaction, stealing a glance at Jake, who looked oddly proud. "Not bad," you admitted, reaching for another.

"Not bad?" Jake pretended to be offended. "I made those!"

"You wrapped one that looks like a UFO. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

The two of you ate in silence, though your focus wasn't entirely on the food. You were hyper-aware of Jake beside you - the warmth of his body, the way his hair brushed against you when he leaned in for more dumplings, the warm, woody scent of his between you.

You found yourself wondering if this was just how Jake was, or if there was a reason he seemed so... present whenever you were around.

By the time the dumplings were gone, Jake leaned back, his head resting lazily against the couch, while you found yourself tucked closer to his side under the shared blanket.

The Christmas bunny plushie was back in his hands, his fingers playing with its ears as he stared at the screen. You stole another glance, your eyes tracing the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

He turned to you suddenly, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the show.

"You're quiet," he said.

"Just thinking," you replied, although the thud of your heart made it hard to form coherent thoughts.

"About?"

"Stuff," you said lamely, earning a soft chuckle from him.

The blanket shifted as he moved slightly closer, his head tilting until it was nearly resting on your shoulder. The hours stretched on and to be honest, you weren't really watching the Christmas movies you queued up. And you doubted Jake was either.

Eventually, sleep crept in. You didn't realize that you had slumped against him until your head rested on his chest while his own head leaned against the back of the couch.

The plates were still on the table and the TV was annoyingly still playing. Why can't it turn itself off? You thought. But none of it really mattered.

The only thing you noticed was the rhythm of Jake's heartbeat beneath your cheek. And maybe, just maybe, the thought that he might feel the same way.