Chapter Text
Christmas morning didn’t announce itself with trumpets.
It arrived the way the best kinds of mornings did—quiet, warm, and a little ridiculous.
Soobin woke up first, blinking slowly, disoriented for half a second.
Then he remembered.
Christmas.
And also—
He turned his head and saw Yeonjun asleep beside him, hair messy, face peaceful.
Then he heard a faint snore from the living room.
Soobin sat up.
The dorm looked like a cozy disaster zone in the best way: blankets on the floor, pillows everywhere, empty cocoa mugs on the table, a few tangerine peels in a bowl like yesterday had happened and stayed.
And in the living room, sprawled across the rug like they’d been gently dropped there by gravity…
Beomgyu.
Taehyun.
Huening Kai.
Soobin stared for a moment, then quietly laughed into his hand.
Yeonjun stirred at the sound, eyes cracking open.
“What,” Yeonjun mumbled, voice sleepy.
Soobin whispered, “They’re still here.”
Yeonjun blinked, then slowly smiled like that was the best news in the world.
“Good,” Yeonjun whispered. “Christmas should be… together.”
Soobin’s chest warmed.
Yeonjun sat up and immediately tugged the blanket around his shoulders like a cape.
Then he looked at Soobin and said, solemn:
“New rule.”
Soobin raised an eyebrow. “What rule?”
Yeonjun pointed to the living room like he was making a royal decree.
“Christmas Day is not allowed to be sharp,” he declared. “No phones. No stress. We are doing soft Christmas.”
Soobin smiled. “Okay.”
Yeonjun nodded like he’d expected no less. “We need a tradition.”
Soobin’s eyes softened. “Like what?”
Yeonjun thought for exactly three seconds.
“Twenty-five minutes,” Yeonjun announced.
Soobin blinked. “Twenty-five minutes of what?”
“Twenty-five minutes of calm,” Yeonjun said firmly. “Because it’s December 25th. And we deserve to start the day gently. No phones, no doom scrolling, no anything. Just… breathing.”
Soobin’s throat tightened a little.
“Okay,” he said softly. “That’s perfect.”
Yeonjun grinned, then slid off the bed quietly like a sneaky cat.
He padded into the living room and crouched beside Beomgyu first.
Beomgyu was face-down in a blanket, hair everywhere.
Yeonjun poked his shoulder lightly. “Wake up.”
Beomgyu groaned like the world had betrayed him. “No.”
“It’s Christmas,” Yeonjun whispered. “And we have cookies.”
Beomgyu sat up immediately, eyes wild. “COOKIES?”
Soobin laughed softly from the doorway.
Next Yeonjun nudged Kai.
Kai blinked awake and smiled instantly, like his soul had never known negativity.
“Merry Christmas!” Kai whispered loudly.
Beomgyu hissed, “Shut up.”
Kai giggled.
Taehyun woke last, sitting up slowly with the calm expression of someone who had already accepted the universe’s chaos.
He looked around at the blankets and cocoa mugs and Soobin’s tree lights still glowing softly.
Taehyun blinked. “So we really did sleep in the living room.”
Yeonjun nodded solemnly. “Yes. It was a cozy camp.”
Taehyun sighed. “I see.”
Yeonjun clapped once, like a leader.
“Okay,” Yeonjun announced. “Christmas Day meeting. Pajama parliament.”
Beomgyu squinted. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Yeonjun said, standing on the rug like he was addressing a nation, “we vote on what happens today. Democracy. Soft democracy.”
Soobin’s eyes softened. “Pajama parliament.”
Taehyun rubbed his face. “We are not calling it that.”
Kai raised his hand immediately. “I vote cocoa bar!”
Beomgyu raised his hand too. “I vote presents!”
Taehyun, deadpan, raised his hand. “I vote silence.”
Yeonjun pointed at him. “Denied.”
Soobin laughed quietly. “What’s the first agenda item?”
Yeonjun’s eyes gleamed. “Twenty-five minutes of calm.”
Beomgyu frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Yeonjun said, very serious, “no phones for twenty-five minutes. We sit. We drink cocoa. We eat cookies. We breathe. We exist.”
Taehyun’s face softened a fraction. “That’s… not terrible.”
Kai nodded enthusiastically. “I can do calm!”
Beomgyu grumbled, “Fine,” but he was already reaching for a cookie.
Soobin glanced at the table, then set his phone face-down first, leading by example.
One by one, the others followed.
Yeonjun set a timer for 25:00 and placed it in the middle like it was sacred.
“Begin,” Yeonjun whispered.
⸻
For twenty-five minutes, the world didn’t get to touch them.
They sat in blankets on the floor, passing warm mugs around. Kai insisted on making cocoa properly—extra marshmallows, a sprinkle of cinnamon, a little drizzle of chocolate like he was trying to heal them through sugar.
Soobin watched them all with something tender in his chest.
Beomgyu mumbled sleepy jokes with crumbs on his lips.
Taehyun quietly adjusted the playlist to something soft without saying a word.
Kai leaned against Soobin’s shoulder at one point, warm and content.
Yeonjun sat close to Soobin, knee pressed to his like a quiet anchor.
At minute fifteen, Beomgyu murmured, “Okay. This is… kind of nice.”
Yeonjun nodded smugly. “I know.”
At minute twenty, Taehyun said quietly, “It feels… quiet in my head.”
Soobin’s gaze softened. “Me too.”
Yeonjun blinked at that, then leaned in and bumped Soobin’s shoulder gently.
When the timer finally chimed, Yeonjun reached over and turned it off immediately, like protecting the softness.
“Okay,” Yeonjun said. “We did it.”
Kai clapped softly. “Merry Christmas calm!”
Beomgyu yawned. “Now presents.”
Taehyun sighed. “I knew this was coming.”
⸻
The gift exchange was TXT-coded chaos.
Beomgyu’s “gift” for Soobin was a tiny framed photo of Soobin in the reindeer headband from last night—printed somehow overnight like Beomgyu had access to a secret villain printer.
Soobin stared at it. “How did you—”
Beomgyu grinned. “I’m talented.”
Yeonjun wheezed laughing. “That’s evil.”
Soobin’s ears went pink, but he carefully set the frame next to the December jar anyway.
Taehyun gave Yeonjun a small, simple gift: a warm scarf in a color Yeonjun liked, with no dramatic explanation.
Yeonjun held it like it mattered.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Taehyun shrugged, but his eyes were gentle. “Don’t freeze.”
Kai gave everyone something soft: little plush keychains, one for each member, like he’d decided the world needed more comfort in it.
Beomgyu immediately attached his to his hoodie zipper and declared, “Now I’m a cozy warrior.”
Yeonjun’s gift to Soobin was small: a tiny keychain shaped like a house key—matching day 21—because Yeonjun never forgot symbolism.
“This is for…” Yeonjun started, then got shy.
Soobin’s eyes softened. “For coming home?”
Yeonjun nodded, cheeks pink. “For when you forget.”
Soobin’s throat tightened.
He reached out and squeezed Yeonjun’s hand. “Thank you.”
Soobin’s gift to Yeonjun was warm socks and a small card with one sentence inside:
“No sharp holidays. Not with me.”
Yeonjun read it and immediately covered his face with the card like he was going to combust.
Beomgyu yelled, “EWW!”
Kai laughed, delighted.
Taehyun muttered, “You’re all unbearable.”
Soobin just smiled.
⸻
Later, they did a short group video call to family—nothing long, nothing exhausting, just warm voices and “eat well” and “we miss you” and “Merry Christmas.”
Soobin’s call was steadier than it would have been a week ago.
Yeonjun’s voice didn’t wobble when he said “I’m okay.”
And after, they all sat in the living room again, quieter.
The tree lights blinked softly.
The December jar sat full and heavy on the shelf like proof of a month lived on purpose.
Yeonjun stood up and walked over to it.
He held it carefully, like it was fragile.
Then he grabbed a sticky label and wrote in big letters:
DECEMBER — WE MADE IT.
He stuck it on the jar, then turned around with shining eyes.
“So,” Yeonjun said softly. “Do we… say something?”
Beomgyu blinked. “Like a speech?”
Taehyun looked alarmed. “No speeches.”
Kai raised his mug anyway. “I can do a toast!”
Soobin smiled faintly and shook his head. “Just… one sentence each. Like the jar notes.”
Taehyun relaxed a fraction. “Okay. One sentence.”
They did it, sitting close, blankets still around their shoulders.
Soobin: “I’m grateful we learned how to make home.”
Yeonjun: “I’m grateful we stayed soft.”
Beomgyu: “I’m grateful for cookies.”
Taehyun: “I’m grateful for quiet.”
Kai: “I’m grateful for warm people.”
Yeonjun blinked quickly, then laughed. “Okay. That’s it. No more emotions.”
Beomgyu pointed at him. “You were emotional all month.”
Yeonjun scowled. “December made me.”
Soobin leaned closer and murmured, “December made you honest.”
Yeonjun’s ears went pink. “Stop.”
Soobin smiled, warm.
Outside, Christmas Day continued—cars, lights, cold air.
Inside, TXT stayed in pajamas and blankets, letting the holiday be simple.
Not perfect.
Just gentle.