Archive of Our Own

The snowstorm had arrived earlier than the forecast promised, the flakes thick and unrelenting as they whipped past the windows of The Seesaw Inn. Yoongi sighed as he stoked the fire in the lobby’s stone hearth, its low crackle the only sound in the quiet space. Outside, the mountains had been swallowed by the blizzard, leaving only the dim glow of the porch light visible through the curtain of white.

It suited him just fine. The quieter, the better.

Straightening, Yoongi dusted off his hands and glanced around the empty lobby. Everything looked exactly the same as it had for years - dark beams overhead, worn furniture scattered like tired sentinels, and the tiny Christmas tree in the corner, its pathetic string of lights refusing to glow. He hadn’t bothered fixing them. Christmas didn’t mean much to him anymore.

Yoongi leaned on the front desk, the ancient register book open before him, though the pages were as empty as they’d been for weeks. Most travelers drove past Seesaw without stopping, lured by flashier hotels in town. He preferred it that way. People were noisy, messy creatures, and Yoongi had long since learned that solitude was simpler.

The old brass bell above the front door jangled suddenly, sharp and out of place, startling Yoongi out of his thoughts. He straightened, frowning as the wind pushed the door open wider. Snow gusted in, swirling through the lobby like an unwanted guest. And then a figure appeared - a man bundled in too many layers, his cheeks flushed pink beneath the ridiculous beanie pulled over his dark hair.

“Hi!” The stranger chirped, so bright and unbothered by the storm that Yoongi stared at him in disbelief. “Park Jimin. Please tell me you have a room. My car broke down just down the road, and my toes are about to fall off. Well, not literally, but, you know - close!”

Yoongi blinked. Park Jimin. The name was offered so freely it caught him off guard, like they were old friends. But they weren’t. Yoongi didn’t have friends. And judging by this guy’s breathless rambling and ridiculous grin, Jimin was a talker. Yoongi could already feel the headache coming.

He said nothing at first, just stared at the stranger – Jimin - taking him in. Snowflakes clung stubbornly to the bright red scarf wrapped around his neck, trailing behind him like a child’s cape. His eyes were wide and far too cheerful for someone stranded on a mountain in the middle of a snowstorm. He looked like he belonged on a Christmas card, all wide smiles and rosy cheeks.

“Room?” Jimin prompted, his grin faltering slightly as he shuffled in place, stamping snow off his boots. “Or maybe a place to sit? A cup of hot chocolate, perhaps? I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything.”

Yoongi exhaled, long and slow, closing the register book with an audible thud. “Take off your boots,” he muttered, already turning to grab a room key. “Before you bring in half the mountain.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Jimin babbled, leaning against the doorframe as he struggled to toe off his snow-caked boots. His grin returned, bright as ever. “You’re a lifesaver. I owe you big time.”

Yoongi didn’t reply, but his brows twitched as Jimin waddled across the room, socked feet leaving faint trails of melted snow. He dropped himself in front of the fire with an exaggerated sigh of relief, practically soaking up the warmth like a stray cat.

Yoongi glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he hung the room key back on the hook. “Don’t touch anything,” he grumbled, though Jimin didn’t seem to hear him - or didn’t care.

“This place is adorable,” Jimin called over his shoulder, looking around with unrestrained delight. “Like stepping into one of those old Christmas movies! You’ve really got the vibe down perfectly.”

Yoongi froze, his hand tightening on the edge of the desk. Adorable? The Seesaw Inn wasn’t adorable. It was old and empty - most of the days, and… fine just the way it was.

“It’s not a holiday,” he muttered under his breath, though it felt more like he was trying to convince himself than Jimin. “It’s just another day.”

Jimin laughed softly, the sound warm and light as it filled the lobby. For some reason, it unsettled Yoongi more than the snowstorm raging outside. Still leaning against the desk, Yoongi found himself staring again - this time at the stranger by the fire, his dark hair messy under his beanie, his face glowing with lingering cold and firelight.

Yoongi shook his head sharply. City boys, he thought, turning his attention back to the register book. He could only hope this Park Jimin didn’t plan on staying long. But as Jimin’s laughter echoed again, soft and easy in the quiet inn, Yoongi had the sinking feeling that the Seesaw Inn was about to get a lot less quiet this Christmas.

+++

The fire crackled softly, its glow dancing over the dark wood of the Seesaw Inn's modest lobby. The warmth seeped into Jimin’s cold bones as he sat cross-legged on the rug, hands stretched toward the flames. His beanie lay discarded on the arm of a nearby chair, his messy dark hair freed, still damp from melted snow.

Jimin sighed, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he watched the fire flicker, its embers glowing like tiny stars. Somewhere behind him, the innkeeper - Yoongi, Jimin reminded himself - was shuffling papers at the desk, his quiet grumbling barely audible over the crackling fire. Jimin’s smile widened. Grumpy as Yoongi seemed, he’d still offered him a room, which meant something, right?

Jimin’s gaze drifted to the flames again, the heat making his cheeks flush. He sank deeper into his oversized coat, letting the quiet wrap around him like a blanket. And then, his thoughts wandered back to how this whole ridiculous journey began. And everything happened just two days ago.

“You’ll never do it,” Taehyung had said, lounging on Jimin’s couch with a smug grin. His brightly patterned sweater and perfectly styled hair screamed festive cheer - too much, even for Taehyung.

Jungkook had nodded enthusiastically from where he was sprawled on the floor, chewing the end of a candy cane. “Yeah, you? Alone? Driving through snowy mountains during Christmas? Impossible.”

Jimin had huffed, throwing a pillow at Jungkook’s head. “Excuse you! I can drive in the snow. I’m a fully capable adult, you know.”

Taehyung leaned forward, his grin growing as he folded his arms. “Oh, really? Then prove it.”

“What?”

“Go on a Christmas road trip,” Taehyung challenged, his voice practically dripping mischief. “Drive up through the mountains, enjoy some scenic Christmas magic, and survive. Alone. Just you, the snow, and whatever little holiday spirit you can muster.”

“And you can’t come back until you have a story to tell,” Jungkook added, smirking.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “You two are ridiculous. I don’t need a dare to go on a trip.”

“Is that a no?” Taehyung teased, his eyebrows waggling.

And because Jimin was incapable of backing down from a challenge - especially one so stupidly festive - he had packed his bags the very next morning. With the car radio blasting Christmas songs, a thermos of hot chocolate riding shotgun, and an ill-advised amount of confidence, Jimin had set off, determined to prove his best friends wrong.

For the first few hours, everything had been perfect. The roads were clear, the mountains sparkled under a blanket of snow, and he’d been humming along to “All I Want for Christmas is You” like he was in his own personal holiday movie.

Then, somewhere on the quiet, winding mountain road, his car had sputtered once. Twice. And then... nothing.

Jimin groaned, smacking the steering wheel. “No, no, no. Not now.”

But the engine stayed silent, leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere with snow swirling thick and fast around him. By the time he’d trudged through the storm, coat pulled tight and cheeks stinging from the cold, he’d spotted the faint glow of lights through the trees - the only sign of civilization for miles.

That’s when he found it: The Seesaw Inn.

Jimin shook his head fondly, still staring into the flames. “Stupid Tae and Jungkookie,” he murmured, though there was no real malice in his voice. If he had to admit it, there was something magical about the inn, even if its grumpy owner didn’t seem to agree.

A soft noise made him glance over his shoulder. Yoongi was watching him from behind the desk, one eyebrow raised as if he could hear Jimin’s thoughts. Jimin grinned sheepishly, ducking his head.

“What?” Yoongi muttered, his voice low and gruff.

“Nothing,” Jimin replied, turning back to the fire. “Just thinking about how I got here.”

“Unfortunate car choices?” Yoongi deadpanned.

Jimin snorted, his laughter light and warm. “Something like that.”

He stretched his arms toward the fire again, his mind lingering on his friends and their silly dare. Maybe he hadn’t meant to end up here - stranded in a snowstorm, staying at a nearly empty inn with a man who looked like he wanted to disappear into the floorboards - but it didn’t feel so bad.

For the first time since his car broke down, Jimin felt calm. Outside, the snowstorm still raged, but here, the fire crackled, the inn creaked softly in the wind, and Yoongi shuffled papers at the desk like an old bear in hibernation. Jimin smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to tell Taehyung and Jungkook this story - whenever he got back.

+++

The fire still crackled, and the storm outside showed no signs of stopping. Yoongi was back at his desk, flipping through a worn ledger as if the numbers might change if he glared at them long enough. The lobby had settled back into silence, save for the occasional creak of the inn’s old bones under the weight of the snow.

Too quiet.

Yoongi glanced toward the fire, where Jimin sat cross-legged on the rug, humming softly to himself. That city boy smile hadn’t left his face since he walked through the door, and Yoongi found it increasingly... irritating. People weren’t supposed to look that happy after getting stranded on a mountain.

“You really don’t have any Christmas decorations up?” Jimin asked suddenly, his voice cheerful as he turned to face Yoongi.

Yoongi grunted, not bothering to look up. “Why would I?”

Jimin gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as though Yoongi had personally offended him. “Why would you? Because it’s Christmas, obviously! The most wonderful time of the year!”

Yoongi’s eye twitched. “It’s just another day.”

Jimin stared at him, horrified. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

Yoongi shrugged, keeping his focus firmly on the ledger. “Believe what you want, kid.”

There was a rustle of movement, and out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi saw Jimin hop to his feet. He watched warily as Jimin rummaged through his oversized coat, pulling out something shiny and bright. Yoongi squinted.

“Tinsel,” Jimin declared proudly, holding up the long, sparkly strand as though it were a trophy. “Never leave home without it!”

Yoongi blinked. “Why... why do you have tinsel in your coat?”

“In case of emergencies, obviously.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to argue - because what kind of emergency requires tinsel? - but Jimin was already on the move. With quick, nimble hands, he began draping the silver garland across the front desk.

“There. Perfect,” Jimin said, stepping back to admire his work. “Now the place feels a little more festive!”

Yoongi stared at the tinsel. Then at Jimin. Then back at the tinsel.

He stood up slowly, chair scraping against the floor as he marched around the counter. Without a word, he grabbed the shiny decoration in one hand, yanked it off the desk, and shoved it into Jimin’s startled arms.

“No,” he said flatly.

Jimin’s mouth fell open, eyes wide in disbelief. “What? Why not? It looks cute!”

“This is an inn, not a department store,” Yoongi muttered, returning to his side of the counter and sitting back down as though nothing had happened. “Take your glittery nonsense somewhere else.”

“It’s tinsel, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin whined, holding it like a wounded animal. “And it’s festive!”

Yoongi leveled him with a look. “No.”

Jimin huffed dramatically, stomping back toward the fire and plopping onto the rug with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that? Even the Grinch had a change of heart.”

Yoongi ignored him, pretending to focus on the ledger again. But the silence didn’t last long before Jimin’s voice piped up - again.

“I bet you secretly like Christmas,” Jimin teased, his tone lilting. “You just don’t want anyone to know because it would ruin your grumpy image.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw. “You’re delusional.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin hummed, a smile tugging at his lips as he tossed the tinsel back into his coat pocket. “We’ll see.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a way he’d never admit was close to a smile.

The fire crackled steadily, sending soft shadows across the room, but the air between Jimin and Yoongi buzzed with something less peaceful. Jimin pouted dramatically as he shoved the tinsel back into his coat pocket, though his eyes sparkled with a determination that Yoongi didn’t trust one bit. Sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, Jimin turned just enough to keep Yoongi in his line of sight, his expression mischievous.

“You know, you didn’t have to take it down,” Jimin said after a long moment, breaking the silence Yoongi had hoped would settle back in.

“Yes, I did.” Yoongi didn’t even look up from the ledger, though his pen had stopped moving.

Jimin snorted, tilting his head. “It’s just tinsel. What, are you afraid it’ll ruin your whole tough mountain man aesthetic?”

Yoongi’s eye twitched. “I don’t have an aesthetic.”

“Sure you do,” Jimin said, grinning now, like he’d made an incredible discovery. “You’re going for grumpy-but-secretly-soft. Very convincing, by the way.”

Yoongi shot him a glare over the rim of his glasses. “I’m not soft.”

Jimin gasped, clutching his chest as if Yoongi had struck him. “Not even at Christmas? Yoongi-ssi, this is a crime against holiday cheer.”

“It’s not a crime if it’s just another day,” Yoongi muttered, flipping a page in the register with unnecessary force.

“But it’s not just another day!” Jimin shot back, his voice earnest now, though still light. He pointed a finger at Yoongi like he was making an important point in a debate. “It’s the time of year when things are supposed to feel special. Even for people who pretend not to care.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something unintelligible about city boys and their nonsense. “Look,” he said finally, his tone gruff. “You’re a guest. A temporary one. So do me a favor and save the Christmas lecture.

“But—”

“No.”

Jimin groaned, flopping back onto the rug in exaggerated defeat, arms stretched out dramatically. “You’re a lost cause.”

“Glad you finally noticed,” Yoongi deadpanned.

For a moment, the only sound was the fire crackling and the wind howling faintly outside. Yoongi allowed himself to think it was over, that Jimin had given up and silence had finally returned.

But then—

“I bet you had a nice Christmas once,” Jimin said softly, still staring up at the ceiling.

Yoongi froze. His pen hovered above the ledger, unmoving, and for a fraction of a second, his gruff exterior cracked. But he didn’t let it show - he wouldn’t let it show. “What makes you think that?”

“Because you don’t really hate it,” Jimin replied, matter-of-fact. “Not deep down.”

Yoongi’s shoulders tensed. He’d heard enough. “What do you know about it?”

Jimin sat up again, cross-legged and impossibly bright despite the gloomy gray light seeping through the windows. He shrugged, his smile soft. “Nothing, really. But I know people. People who say they don’t care usually have the best memories of it - they just don’t want to admit it because… well, maybe it hurts too much to remember.”

The words lingered longer than they should have. Yoongi scowled down at the ledger, his knuckles white as he gripped the pen. “You talk too much.”

Jimin’s grin returned, undeterred by Yoongi’s sharp tone. “That’s what my friends say, too.”

“Smart friends.”

Jimin laughed, the sound light and warm, and Yoongi hated how it softened the edges of the room. “Don’t worry, Yoongi-ssi. I’ll have you in the Christmas spirit in no time.”

Yoongi snorted. “Not in a million years.”

Jimin pointed at him again, like he’d just issued a challenge. “We’ll see.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, but as Jimin turned back to the fire and began humming “Jingle Bell Rock” under his breath, Yoongi’s scowl deepened.

The kid was relentless. And worst of all, a small, traitorous part of him - buried deep, deep down - didn’t entirely mind.

And as Jimin continued humming, Yoongi muttered, “If you’re going to sing, at least pick a decent song.”

Jimin perked up immediately, eyes gleaming. “You do have an opinion about Christmas music! I knew it!”

“No, I—”

“You’re totally a Christmas softie,” Jimin teased, grinning ear to ear.

“Out.”

“I live here now,” Jimin quipped, spreading his arms as if claiming the inn. “You’re stuck with me, Yoongi-ssi!”

+++

The room Yoongi had shown him was small but clean, with worn wooden furniture and a bed that looked far cozier than Jimin’s restless mind would allow. The storm outside howled against the windowpane, the wind rattling the glass every now and then, but it wasn’t the storm that kept Jimin awake. It was everything else.

He lay sprawled on the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. "Rest," Yoongi had said, voice gruff but final, as though Jimin were a child in need of a bedtime. "It’s late. The other guests are already in bed."

Jimin snorted softly to himself, recalling Yoongi’s words. How someone could make a polite statement sound like an order was beyond him. It was like the man carried his own personal cloud of do-not-disturb.

But still… there’s something about him, Jimin thought, shifting under the covers. Yoongi was curt, sure, but he wasn’t unkind. He’d opened the door. Given him a room. Fed the fire to keep the place warm.

Grumpy on the outside, soft somewhere inside, Jimin decided.

He turned over for the hundredth time, the quiet too loud, too strange. The city had always buzzed around him, humming with life even at night. But here, the silence stretched out wide and endless. Sleep wouldn’t come.

I need water, Jimin thought, convincing himself that this was a practical excuse to leave the bed. Slipping on his socks and grabbing his coat, he tiptoed to the door and opened it as quietly as he could.

The hallway was dark and still, lit faintly by the pale light seeping through a window at the far end. Jimin winced as the old floorboards creaked beneath his steps, though he doubted anyone could hear him over the storm still raging outside.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he paused.

The soft glow of firelight spilled out from the lobby below, flickering gently against the wooden walls. Jimin tilted his head. Wasn’t the fire supposed to die out by now?

Curiosity got the better of him, and he made his way down carefully, one step at a time. When he reached the bottom, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.

Yoongi was there.

He sat in one of the armchairs by the fire, his back slightly hunched and his expression uncharacteristically soft, as though he had forgotten to put up his usual walls. In his hands was a book, its pages worn and yellowed, cradled with a kind of careful reverence. The fire’s glow painted him in warm hues, softening the lines of his face and turning his dark hair to shades of chestnut.

Jimin held his breath, watching.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed slightly, as if whatever he was reading had pulled him somewhere far away. The book was thick - one of those heavy-looking kinds Jimin always avoided back in school - and Yoongi turned the page slowly, like he was savoring it.

Who knew Mr. Grumpy McTinsel-Hater liked to read? Jimin thought, biting back a smile. But there was no teasing edge to the thought this time.

The man before him was different from the one who had snapped at him about tinsel earlier. He looked… peaceful. And maybe even a little lonely.

Jimin hadn’t meant to stare, but it was hard not to. The fire crackled softly, the storm outside sounding distant now, like a faraway song. He wondered how many nights Yoongi had spent like this - alone by the fire, lost in the pages of a book, while the rest of the world slept.

He must’ve moved because Yoongi’s head snapped up suddenly, dark eyes meeting Jimin’s across the room.

Jimin froze. “Uh…”

Yoongi blinked, clearly startled, then scowled, though it lacked any real heat. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jimin admitted, scratching the back of his neck as he stepped closer. “I didn’t mean to interrupt…” He nodded toward the book. “What are you reading?”

Yoongi hesitated, as though debating whether to answer, before holding the book up just enough for Jimin to see. The gold-embossed title caught the firelight: "Collected Poems of Yoon Dong-ju."

Jimin’s lips parted in surprise. “Poetry?”

Yoongi frowned. “What, that’s so hard to believe?”

“No!” Jimin said quickly, shaking his head. “Not at all. I just… didn’t expect it.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue and set the book down gently on the table beside him. “Most people don’t.”

Jimin smiled softly, moving to sit cross-legged on the rug near the fire, like he had earlier. “It suits you.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jimin shrugged, his smile teasing but kind. “You’re thoughtful. Quiet. Like poetry.”

Yoongi scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated sigh. “You talk too much.”

Jimin grinned, unbothered, as he turned his attention to the fire. “And you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be.”

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Yoongi didn’t move to leave, and Jimin didn’t feel like filling the quiet with his usual chatter. Instead, he watched the flames, letting the moment stretch out peacefully.

“You should sleep,” Yoongi said eventually, though his voice had softened.

“Yeah,” Jimin murmured, not moving. “Maybe in a bit.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yoongi glance at him briefly before picking up the book again, his fingers brushing over the cover with practiced familiarity.

Jimin leaned his chin on his knees, smiling to himself.

Not so grumpy after all.

+++

On the next morning, Jimin awoke to the faint sound of the storm still howling outside, the inn creaking gently in response. The fire from the night before had long since died, leaving only the lingering scent of smoke and pine. He stretched in the small, cozy bed, blinking up at the ceiling. Another day in snowy exile, he thought, though his smile said he didn’t mind all that much. After pulling on his sweater and socks, Jimin ventured downstairs. The lobby was just as quiet as it had been last night, the fire newly lit and crackling softly, filling the room with its golden glow. And to Jimin’s delight - there were people.

Three groups sat scattered across the lobby.

By the fire was sitting a man, probably in his mid-30s if Jimin guessed right, with an air of quiet contemplation about him. His tousled brown hair fell just over his forehead, and though his features were sharp and handsome, there was a tiredness in his gaze. He held a steaming mug of coffee, staring out the window at the swirling snow.

Near the far corner was sitting a couple - both handsome, though clearly irritated with one another. One of them, with broad shoulders and sharp features (Seokjin, Jimin learned later), was flipping through a magazine with exaggerated disinterest. The other, taller and wearing wire-rimmed glasses (Namjoon), paced back and forth near the window, muttering to himself about “poor communication” and “too much pride.”

Lastly, in the corner near the bookshelf, a young woman sat, her shy little boy pressed close to her side. She whispered something softly, her hand running through his dark hair, but the boy only clung tighter to her arm, his wide eyes darting nervously around the room.

Jimin’s heart clenched. The inn, despite its warmth, felt heavy. A room full of people who all seemed... alone. As he stood there, taking it all in, a gruff voice broke through his thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Yoongi muttered, appearing behind the front desk.

Jimin turned, flashing him his brightest smile. “Good morning to you too, Yoongi-ssi!”

Yoongi grunted something incomprehensible, eyes flicking suspiciously toward the other guests. “Don’t bother them.”

“Me?” Jimin gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Bother? Never.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, already regretting talking to him. “What are you smiling about?”

Jimin’s gaze swept over the room once more before landing back on Yoongi. “You don’t see it?”

“See what?”

Jimin’s expression softened. “They’re all stuck here too. Alone, for different reasons. And it’s almost Christmas Eve.”

Yoongi looked unimpressed, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s still just another day.”

Jimin whirled around to face him fully, eyes sparkling with determination. “No, it’s not! Not this time.”

Yoongi stared at him, unblinking. “What are you plotting?”

Jimin grinned, that dangerous, I’m-up-to-something grin that Yoongi already hated. “If I’m stuck here, we might as well do something nice! These people deserve a proper Christmas.”

Yoongi’s brow furrowed, a scowl settling on his face. “No.”

“Oh, come on!” Jimin chirped, practically bouncing in place. “A little decorating, some food, maybe even a tree? I saw one outside - it’s perfect! We’ll bring it in, hang lights—”

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi snapped, his voice sharp. “This isn’t some holiday movie.”

“Why not?” Jimin shot back, undeterred. “You’ve got the cozy inn, the fire, the snowstorm—it’s basically fate.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself about “delusional city kids.” “I’m not helping you with this nonsense.”

Jimin tilted his head, hands clasped behind his back. “What else are you going to do? Sit there and glare at the snow?”

Yoongi opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. He snapped it shut again, narrowing his eyes at Jimin, who grinned wider.

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin said triumphantly. “Come on, Yoongi-ssi. It’ll be fun. You do know how to have fun, don’t you?”

“I know how to avoid it,” Yoongi muttered.

“Well, today you don’t get a choice.” Before Yoongi could argue further, Jimin spun on his heels and marched straight toward the guests. Yoongi watched, feeling the last of his peace slip away like smoke up the chimney.

“Good morning!” Jimin greeted brightly, his voice carrying across the lobby like sunlight piercing through clouds.

The man by the fire looked up, surprised. His gaze met Jimin’s, and up close, Jimin could see the faint shadows under his eyes and the flicker of loneliness he seemed to be carrying.

“Uh… morning,” the man replied, his voice deep but tinged with warmth.

Jimin smiled as he extended a hand. “Jimin. You are?”

The man blinked once before setting down his mug and shaking Jimin’s hand firmly. “Jung Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you, Hoseok-ssi!” Jimin said cheerfully, though he noted the hesitation in the man’s expression. “Stuck here too, huh?”

Hoseok exhaled softly, a corner of his mouth twitching. “Seems that way.”

“Well,” Jimin said with a conspiratorial wink, “I’ve got a plan to make today a little less bleak. Stay tuned.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow but didn’t press, taking a quiet sip of his coffee as Jimin moved on to the next guests.

Turning away, Jimin made a beeline for the couple near the window. They were impossible to miss - their body language screamed “we had a fight last night.” One of them, the broad-shouldered man with perfectly styled hair and sharp features sat with his arms crossed, flipping aggressively through a travel magazine.

The other, taller and wearing wire-rimmed glasses, paced anxiously, muttering under his breath about “overreacting” and “poor listening skills.”

“Good morning!” Jimin sang out, cheerfully disrupting the tension.

Both men froze and turned to stare at him. Seokjin recovered first, offering a stiff smile that looked more like a grimace. “Morning.”

Namjoon adjusted his glasses and muttered, “It’s not a good morning, but - sure. Morning.”

Jimin tilted his head, undeterred. “You must be a couple.”

Seokjin blinked. “What gave it away?”

Jimin smirked, crossing his arms. “Oh, I don’t know. The glaring? The brooding? It’s very romantic.”

Namjoon flushed, clearing his throat. “We’re not brooding.”

Seokjin snorted but said nothing.

“Well, whatever it is,” Jimin chirped, “you’re both stuck here for Christmas, so maybe you’ll have time to kiss and make up. I’m Jimin, by the way.”

“Seokjin,” the broad-shouldered one muttered. “And that’s Namjoon.”

“Lovely names!” Jimin grinned. “Stay tuned - you’re going to love what I have planned.”

Namjoon frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Jimin ignored the question, turning on his heel as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb of mystery on them. “You’ll see!”

Finally, Jimin turned toward the corner near the bookshelf, where a young woman sat quietly with her little boy. The woman, Jimin quickly noticed, had a warm, patient presence, though the exhaustion in her eyes was hard to miss. Her son, on the other hand, was practically glued to her side, his small face buried in her arm as he peeked nervously around the room.

Jimin approached slowly, crouching down so he was at eye level with the boy. He smiled warmly, his voice gentle. “Good morning. I’m Jimin. What’s your name?”

The boy peeked out shyly, his eyes big and dark.

The woman smiled apologetically. “He’s shy. I’m Soo-ah, and this is Minhyun.”

“That’s okay,” Jimin said softly, waving a little at Minhyun. “We’ll be friends when you’re ready, okay?”

Minhyun blinked at him, curiosity breaking through his nervousness just for a moment.

Soo-ah smiled gratefully. “Thank you for being so kind. It’s been a rough trip.”

“Well,” Jimin replied, standing up and flashing her a bright smile, “today’s going to get better. I promise.”

Jimin straightened and turned back toward the front desk, where Yoongi stood watching him like he was some kind of hurricane tearing through his quiet little inn.

“These people deserve some joy,” Jimin declared, hands on his hips. “You’ll see. By tonight, this place will feel like Christmas.”

Yoongi scowled, already regretting not locking Jimin in his room. “Against my better judgment, I let you stay here. Don’t make me regret it.”

Jimin grinned, already dragging one of the armchairs toward the door. “Cheer up, Yoongi-ssi! You might even enjoy yourself.”

“Doubtful.”

Yoongi watched as Jimin muttered to himself about needing a Christmas tree, shoving on his boots by the door with all the determination of someone going to war. The snowstorm outside roared on, but for the first time in a long while, The Seesaw Inn didn’t feel so still.

Yoongi sighed heavily, glaring at the ceiling. What did I do to deserve this?

And yet, as Jimin hummed a Christmas tune to himself, Yoongi didn’t stop him.

+++

Yoongi wasn’t sure how it happened. One moment, Jimin had been bouncing around the lobby, spouting nonsense about decorations and “bringing joy to the inn.” The next, the place was crawling with ribbons, baubles, and strands of lights that Jimin had somehow pulled from his seemingly bottomless bag of Christmas cheer.

At first, Yoongi did what he did best - he watched from a distance, arms crossed, leaning against the front desk like an unmovable mountain. He told himself he was just keeping an eye on Jimin so he didn’t break anything.

But the truth was, he couldn’t look away.

Jimin was a whirlwind of movement and enthusiasm. He’d started with the fireplace mantel, hanging little homemade garlands of pinecones and dried orange slices (“For a rustic vibe, Yoongi-ssi!”) before moving to string lights around the tiny, decrepit Christmas tree that had sat in the corner for years. The lights didn’t work, of course, which Jimin discovered when he plugged them in with a dramatic groan.

Yoongi smirked to himself. Good. Maybe he’ll give up now.

But no. Jimin didn’t give up. He never gave up.

“Yoongi-ssi!” Jimin called, standing in front of the tree, pouting at the dead strand of lights in his hand. “Do you have any tools? Or spare bulbs? I can fix this.”

Yoongi sighed loudly, hoping the kid would get the hint and leave him out of it. “They’re broken. Just leave it.”

“But we can fix them!” Jimin insisted, his eyes far too hopeful. “If we’re going to have a tree, it needs to sparkle.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to argue but paused when he noticed the guests sitting quietly in the lobby - Hoseok with his hands wrapped around a mug, the couple Seokjin and Namjoon sneaking amused glances at Jimin, and little Minhyun peeking at the lights from behind his mother’s coat.

They were watching, too. And for the first time in a long while, there was something alive about the inn. Something warm.

“Fine,” Yoongi muttered, pushing himself off the desk. Jimin turned to him with wide eyes as Yoongi grabbed the lights and muttered, “Move. I’ll fix it.”

“Really?” Jimin beamed, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Stop looking at me like that. It’s just wires and bulbs, nothing special,” Yoongi grumbled. But as he sat down and began tinkering with the tangled lights, he could feel Jimin’s bright grin practically radiating from across the room.

Yoongi wasn’t sure how it escalated. First lights, now baking.

“How did I get dragged into this?” Yoongi muttered under his breath, staring down at the flour-dusted kitchen counter.

“Because you’re a good person deep down, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin teased from beside him, sleeves rolled up and hands kneading dough like he’d been born to do it. “And because cookies make people happy.”

“They’re just flour and sugar,” Yoongi shot back, but his hands were already reaching for the rolling pin to flatten out the next sheet of dough. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but something about the methodical rhythm of baking felt… calming. Familiar.

Jimin hummed happily as he cut out cookie shapes, sticking mostly to stars and gingerbread people. “I think you’re enjoying this.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re smiling.”

Yoongi glanced at him sharply. “I’m not smiling.”

Jimin pointed a flour-covered finger at him. “You totally are.”

“Focus on your cookies,” Yoongi snapped, but there was no real bite to his words.

The snowstorm hadn’t let up, but that didn’t stop Jimin. Nothing ever stopped Jimin. “Come on, Yoongi-ssi!” The younger man whined.

“You want me to do what?” Yoongi asked, staring at Jimin in disbelief.

“Chop down a tree!” Jimin chirped, holding out a rusty old axe he’d found in the shed. He looked far too excited for someone suggesting manual labor in the middle of a snowstorm.

“You’re insane.”

“It’s tradition!” Jimin argued, his face flushed pink from the cold. “And besides, the little tree inside is nice, but we need a real one. It’ll make everyone smile, Yoongi-ssi. You’ll see.”

Yoongi stared at him, the wind whipping Jimin’s hair into his eyes and his cheeks practically glowing in the freezing air. Jimin’s enthusiasm should’ve been irritating, but instead, it had an annoying way of… spreading.

Without another word, Yoongi grabbed the axe. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jimin’s cheer echoed through the snow-covered trees as he trailed after Yoongi, pointing out which pine looked “just right.” Yoongi pretended not to care, but when Jimin finally picked one—tall, full, and perfect—Yoongi nodded gruffly.

“This one’ll do,” he muttered, lifting the axe.

While he worked, Jimin crouched nearby, brushing snow off the pine needles and humming Christmas songs to himself. Yoongi ignored him - or at least, he tried. But when the tree finally fell, soft into the snow, Jimin jumped up and cheered as if Yoongi had just saved the world.

“You’re amazing, Yoongi-ssi!”

Yoongi grumbled, hauling the tree over his shoulder like it was nothing. “It’s just a tree.”

Jimin practically skipped beside him as they trudged back to the inn, the storm swirling around them. “Not just a tree. You’ll see.”

Yoongi glanced down at him, wind biting at his face. Jimin’s grin hadn’t faltered once, even as snowflakes clung to his eyelashes and the tip of his nose turned red. Yoongi turned away quickly, mumbling, “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re secretly having fun,” Jimin shot back.

Yoongi didn’t reply, but as they pushed through the inn’s front door, the sight of the guests’ surprised, smiling faces as they carried in the perfect tree made something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

He set the tree down and stepped back, wiping snow off his shoulders.

“See?” Jimin beamed, turning to Yoongi as if reading his mind. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

Yoongi glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. “Don’t push your luck.”

But as Jimin started untangling lights and ribbons, rallying the guests to help decorate, Yoongi found himself lingering nearby. Watching. And when no one was looking, he fixed a strand of lights that had come loose from the branches.

“Just wires and bulbs,” he muttered to himself. But as Jimin caught him – again - with that knowing smile, Yoongi sighed. He was losing this battle.

The Seesaw Inn was alive in a way Yoongi hadn’t seen in years. Lights twinkled faintly from the tree Jimin had insisted they haul in, and the faint hum of laughter and chatter filled the lobby. If Yoongi had his way, he would’ve been hiding in the kitchen or buried under a pile of paperwork. But somehow, he was here - right in the middle of it.

Because of Jimin.

“Yoongi-ssi, can you pass me the icing?” Jimin’s voice pulled him back to the present.

Yoongi, sitting at the far end of the table with his sleeves pushed up, frowned as he slid the piping bag across the surface. The small kitchen-turned-workspace was a mess: bowls of frosting, trays of candy, and broken gingerbread pieces littered every inch of counter space.

Jimin, with flour smeared across his cheek and a determined glint in his eye, was hunched over the half-built gingerbread house like an architect designing a masterpiece. “This time, it’s going to stand up. I promise.”

“You said that an hour ago,” Yoongi deadpanned, arms crossed. “And it’s already leaning like it’s been through an earthquake.”

Jimin pouted, leaning back to inspect his creation. He frowned. “Okay, maybe just a small tilt…”

“It’s about to collapse.”

“No, it’s—”

CRACK.

The roof split clean in two, the walls caving in as Jimin gasped dramatically. “Noooo!”

Yoongi couldn’t help it. The laughter bubbled up before he could stop it - a low, unexpected chuckle that startled even himself. Jimin froze, his mouth open mid-wail, and turned to stare at Yoongi like he’d just witnessed a Christmas miracle.

“Yoongi-ssi!” Jimin cried, pointing an icing-covered finger at him. “You laughed!”

Yoongi cleared his throat, forcing the smile off his face, though his lips twitched. “I didn’t.”

“You totally did,” Jimin said triumphantly, grinning ear to ear. “You found that funny.”

Yoongi sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Watching you wage war against a gingerbread house isn’t funny. It’s tragic.”

“Tragic? I’ll show you tragic,” Jimin declared, grabbing a fistful of jellybeans and tossing them in Yoongi’s direction. A few bounced harmlessly off Yoongi’s sweater, and Yoongi blinked at him in disbelief.

“Did you just throw candy at me?”

“Oops,” Jimin said, far from apologetic. “Accident.”

Yoongi shook his head, fighting the urge to smile again. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re smiling again,” Jimin teased, his voice sing-songy. “I’m telling you, Yoongi-ssi, you’re secretly full of Christmas spirit.”

“Not a chance.”

Jimin grinned but didn’t argue further, turning back to the gingerbread house ruins as he muttered something about “structural reinforcement.”

And as if the gingerbread disaster wasn’t enough, Jimin had somehow convinced everyone that a bit of caroling “would lift the holiday spirits.” Yoongi, naturally, refused to participate, opting instead to stand in the doorway of the lobby with his hands stuffed into his pockets, watching the chaos unfold.

Seokjin and Namjoon stood to one side, their earlier tension forgotten as Seokjin overdramatically tried to harmonize while Namjoon shook his head and laughed. Soo-ah and Minhyun hummed along softly, the little boy clutching a jingle bell Jimin had fashioned out of scrap ribbon.

And then there was Jimin.

Standing in front of the tiny group like an overly enthusiastic choir director, Jimin launched into “Jingle Bells” - loud, cheerful, and woefully off-key. He clapped along, his entire face lit up like the Christmas tree as he belted out the lyrics with zero shame.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaaay!”

Yoongi winced. “What is he doing to that song?”

Hoseok, leaning casually against the wall nearby, chuckled. “Murdering it.”

Yoongi snorted, the sound catching him by surprise, and Hoseok grinned knowingly.

Jimin turned to the group, still bouncing on his heels. “Come on, everyone! Louder!”

“I think we’re loud enough, Jimin-ah,” Seokjin called, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter.

Yoongi shook his head, but his gaze lingered on Jimin - flushed cheeks, flour still smeared faintly on his sweater, eyes sparkling as he tried to lift everyone’s spirits. He’s ridiculous, Yoongi thought. Absolutely ridiculous.

And yet, Yoongi found himself smiling again.

Just a little.

When the “caroling” finally came to an end and the guests drifted off to their rooms, Yoongi lingered near the now-quiet lobby. The fire crackled softly, the lights on the tree casting a warm glow over the room. Jimin flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, looking content despite his exhaustion.

“That was a disaster,” Yoongi said flatly, approaching with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Jimin grinned up at him. “Was it? Everyone smiled, didn’t they?”

Yoongi didn’t reply, but Jimin caught the look in his eyes - a softness he hadn’t seen before.

“You smiled too,” Jimin added quietly, his voice gentle.

Yoongi’s expression faltered. “No, I didn’t.”

“You’re terrible at lying,” Jimin teased, resting his head against the couch cushions as he looked up at Yoongi. “Admit it. This isn’t so bad, is it?”

Yoongi stared at him for a moment before looking away, his voice barely audible as he muttered, “It’s… tolerable.”

Jimin beamed. “I’ll take it.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. As he turned back toward the kitchen, he heard Jimin humming softly - off-key, of course - but somehow, it didn’t bother him this time.

Maybe, Yoongi thought to himself, just maybe, this wasn’t the worst Christmas after all.

+++

The next evening, the storm outside was quieter, though the snow still fell steadily against the windows. Inside The Seesaw Inn, the lobby glowed warmly, thanks to the fire Yoongi had lit and the strands of lights that Jimin had insisted on hanging.

Jimin sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully untangling the stubborn mess of Christmas lights, a small frown of concentration on his face. “Why do these always turn into spaghetti?” He muttered to himself, tugging gently at a particularly knotted section.

Across from him, Yoongi sat slouched on the couch, a smaller tangle of lights in his lap. He worked with steady hands, his movements surprisingly patient. They’d been sitting like this for a while - Jimin chatting idly about everything and nothing while Yoongi offered the occasional grunt or sarcastic remark. But Jimin didn’t mind. The quiet moments were just as nice as the chaotic ones.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin said, finally breaking the silence, “how did I convince you to help me with this?”

Yoongi looked up, a faint scowl tugging at his lips. “You didn’t. You’re just terrible at untangling lights.”

Jimin pouted. “That’s not true! This is artistic chaos.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Yoongi muttered, though his expression was softer than usual.

They worked in companionable silence for a few more minutes before Jimin glanced at Yoongi curiously. “Did you ever like Christmas?”

Yoongi’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second, his gaze dropping to the lights in his lap. Jimin noticed the shift immediately. For someone like Yoongi, small things said everything.

“Yeah,” Yoongi muttered eventually, his voice quieter than Jimin expected. “I used to.”

Jimin blinked, surprised by the answer. “You did?”

Yoongi didn’t look up, his fingers absently smoothing over the strand of lights as he spoke. “When I was younger, Christmas was… nice. Simple. My family would decorate the inn together. We’d bake cookies. There’d always be guests coming and going, people laughing, sharing stories.”

Jimin smiled softly, trying to picture a younger Yoongi surrounded by family, warmth, and laughter. “That sounds beautiful.”

“It was,” Yoongi admitted, his voice distant, like he was lost in the memory. “But then… life got noisy. Complicated. People stopped coming as often, and it just… faded. Christmas became disappointing. Another day.”

Jimin’s chest ached at the quiet sadness in Yoongi’s tone. It wasn’t the sharp, gruff version of him that Jimin was used to - it was something rawer, more vulnerable. Yoongi wasn’t just irritated by Christmas; he’d given up on it.

“You don’t have to hide from it, you know,” Jimin said gently.

Yoongi looked up at him then, his dark eyes meeting Jimin’s. “I’m not hiding.”

Jimin tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You are. You’ve built yourself this little fortress - grumpy innkeeper who hates tinsel and cookies - but you’re not fooling me.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched, as if fighting back a smile. “You’re insufferable.”

Jimin grinned. “Maybe, but I’m right.”

For a moment, Yoongi just looked at him, his gaze softer than Jimin had ever seen. Then, with a sigh, Yoongi muttered, “Call me ‘hyung.’”

Jimin froze, his eyes widening. “What?”

“You heard me,” Yoongi said, looking back down at the lights as though it were nothing. “You’ve been here long enough, and you’re annoying enough to earn it. Call me hyung.”

A warmth spread through Jimin’s chest, and he couldn’t stop the small, genuine smile that lit up his face. “Really? You’re not going to take it back later?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Yoongi grumbled, though his ears turned faintly pink.

Jimin laughed softly, letting the quiet settle around them again. He watched Yoongi carefully wind the lights, his movements slower now, more thoughtful.

“It’s not too late to find joy again, you know,” Jimin said after a pause, his voice gentle. “You just need the right company.”

Yoongi glanced up, and for a fleeting moment, Jimin thought he saw something shift in his expression - something that looked a lot like hope.

“I don’t know about that,” Yoongi said, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

“You’ll see,” Jimin replied brightly, holding up the fully untangled strand of lights like a trophy. “Once these are hung up and the guests see this place glowing, you’ll feel it too. I promise.”

Yoongi didn’t respond, but he didn’t argue either. Instead, he picked up the strand he’d been working on, stood up, and wordlessly handed it to Jimin.

“Come on,” he said, heading toward the lobby. “Let’s get these up before you get another bright idea.”

Jimin stared after him, smiling to himself. Call me ‘hyung,’ Yoongi had said.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

+++

The Seesaw Inn had never looked like this before.

Yoongi stood quietly near the doorway to the lobby, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweater as he surveyed the scene unfolding before him. The old inn, usually quiet and shadowed, now glowed with a kind of warmth he hadn’t seen in years.

Jimin’s handiwork was everywhere - twinkling lights draped across the ceiling beams, garlands of pine and ribbon on the mantel, and the enormous Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner. Its branches were adorned with mismatched ornaments Jimin had scrounged up from the storage room, homemade paper snowflakes from little Minhyun, and strings of popcorn that Jimin had forced him to help string the night before.

It was chaos. Beautiful, ridiculous chaos.

And somehow, it worked.

The guests were scattered around the room, their voices mingling with soft music playing from the old radio. Namjoon and Seokjin sat together on the couch, laughing quietly as Seokjin teased Namjoon about his inability to hang lights straight. Hoseok stood near the fireplace, a glass of mulled cider in hand as he shared an animated story with Soo-ah. Even shy little Minhyun was smiling, proudly holding up a paper chain he had made as his mother beamed at him.

And then there was Jimin.

He was everywhere at once - handing out cookies, laughing with Minhyun, clapping Seokjin on the back after a joke. His presence was as bright as the tree, his laughter as infectious as the crackling fire. He was a force of nature, leaving warmth and light in his wake. Yoongi leaned against the doorframe, quietly watching. He should’ve been irritated, he thought. He wanted to be irritated. Jimin had upended his quiet life, dragging him into decorating, baking, caroling - things Yoongi hadn’t done in years. Things he thought he’d stopped caring about.

But as he stood there, watching his guests - his family for the night - share stories and laughter, he felt something twist in his chest.

It wasn’t irritation. It was peace.

Jimin had been right. Christmas wasn’t just another day.

It wasn’t the lights or the cookies or the tree that made it special. It was this—the warmth, the joy, the sense that, for at least one evening, no one in this room was alone.

And it was all because of Jimin.

After the guests had long since gone to bed, the room quiet once more except for the soft pop of the dying fire. The lights on the tree still twinkled faintly, casting shadows that danced on the wooden floors. Jimin sat on the floor in front of the fire, his legs stretched out and his head resting back against the couch. His eyes were half-closed, his expression peaceful for the first time all evening. Yoongi stood near the tree, something small clutched in his hand.

He didn’t know why he felt so awkward. He wasn’t good at this - at gestures, at saying things that mattered. But he knew he couldn’t let the night end without doing something.

Clearing his throat, he stepped closer, and Jimin’s eyes fluttered open.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin said softly, his voice still carrying that endless warmth. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Yoongi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he held out his hand, the small object resting in his palm. It caught the glow of the firelight as Jimin blinked in surprise. It was a small, hand-carved wooden ornament-shaped like a pine tree.

Jimin sat up straighter, staring at it. “What’s this?”

Yoongi shrugged, muttering, “You earned it.”

Jimin looked up at him, eyes wide. “You… you made this?”

Yoongi scratched the back of his neck, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing. Just some wood. I used to carve things when I was younger, and I… found my old tools.”

Jimin’s fingers brushed over the ornament, handling it like it was something delicate and precious. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Yoongi finally looked at him, his expression softening. “This place – tonight - none of this would’ve happened without you. You brought… something back here.” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “You brought something back for me, too.”

Jimin’s smile grew, bright and genuine, and for a moment, Yoongi forgot how to breathe.

“You’re not as grumpy as you look, you know,” the younger teased gently, though his voice was soft.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, though a faint pink crept up his neck. “Don’t ruin it.”

But then Jimin’s grin turned mischievous. “Oh, but I have to ruin it.”

Before Yoongi could ask what that meant, Jimin pointed upward. Yoongi followed his gaze. And there it was - mistletoe.

Yoongi froze. “Where did that come from?”

Jimin shrugged innocently, though his cheeks were pink, too. “I may have hung it earlier. For emergencies.”

Yoongi groaned softly, though he didn’t move. “You’re impossible.”

Jimin smiled, softer this time. “And you’re not leaving, are you?”

Yoongi sighed, his shoulders dropping as his lips twitched faintly. “You’re relentless.”

“Always.”

Before Yoongi could protest further - not that he really wanted to - Jimin leaned in. It wasn’t hurried or overdramatic. Just a soft, lingering kiss under the faint glow of the tree and the warmth of the fire. Yoongi found himself closing his eyes, the edges of the world blurring as he let himself feel - the warmth of Jimin’s lips, the gentle press of his hand resting against Yoongi’s arm.

When they pulled apart, Jimin smiled up at him, eyes shining.

“Merry Christmas, hyung.”

Yoongi stared at him for a beat, his heart full in a way he hadn’t realized was possible. Finally, he muttered under his breath, “Merry Christmas, Jimin.”

+++

The snowstorm had passed. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Seesaw Inn, casting soft, golden streaks across the floorboards. Outside, the world was transformed into a glistening wonderland of untouched white, the kind of morning that looked like it belonged in a painting.

Jimin stood near the front door, his coat zipped up and his bags slung over one shoulder. It felt strange to be leaving - like he was walking away from something unfinished. Behind him, the inn was quiet, the warmth of the Christmas decorations still lingering. The tree twinkled faintly, lights reflected in the shiny ornaments they’d hung just the night before.

And in front of him stood Yoongi.

The older man held out a battered thermos, his expression unreadable save for the faint furrow of his brows. “Hot cocoa,” Yoongi muttered gruffly, not quite meeting Jimin’s eyes. “It’ll keep you warm on the drive.”

Jimin blinked, caught off guard, before breaking into a wide smile. He took the thermos carefully, cradling it in both hands. “Thanks, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Hyung,” Yoongi corrected automatically, though his voice was quieter than usual.

Jimin’s grin softened. “Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi shoved his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but at Jimin’s face. “Drive safe, city boy. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Jimin bit his bottom lip to hide the smile threatening to spread across his face. “I’ll try not to.” He hesitated, glancing toward the snow-covered driveway where his car now sat, repaired and ready to take him back to the world he’d come from.

But… he didn’t want to leave.

He turned back to Yoongi, standing there in his thick sweater and worn slippers, looking every bit the grumpy innkeeper - but there was something different about him now. The sharp edges were softer, the quiet loneliness replaced by something warmer.

Jimin tilted his head, mischief dancing in his eyes as he said, “I could come back for New Year’s… if you’d like.”

Yoongi’s gaze snapped up, surprised. For a second, they just looked at each other. Jimin could see it - the way Yoongi’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite let himself.

“Suit yourself,” Yoongi muttered, the words gruff but carrying no real bite.

Jimin beamed, his heart unexpectedly light as he turned toward the door. “I will, then.”

He stepped outside, the cold air biting at his cheeks as he made his way to the car. The engine started easily this time, rumbling softly as Jimin buckled himself in. But before pulling away, something made him glance up at the inn one last time.

There, standing on the porch, was Yoongi.

He wasn’t waving - of course he wasn’t. But his posture was still, his gaze fixed on Jimin’s car like he wasn’t quite ready to see it go.

And in his hand, Yoongi held the small, hand-carved pine tree ornament. The same one Jimin had promised to hang on a tree back in his city apartment—but now it looked like Yoongi wasn’t ready to let it go either.

Jimin’s chest squeezed, warmth spreading through him despite the cold outside.

He grinned to himself as he shifted the car into gear, glancing one last time in the rearview mirror. Yoongi still stood there, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as the sunlight turned his figure golden against the snow.

“See you soon, hyung,” Jimin murmured softly to himself.

As the Seesaw Inn faded into the distance, Jimin couldn’t stop smiling.

Because he knew.

Sometimes, the grumpiest hearts just needed a little cheer to start beating again. And he’d be back - because something told him that his story with Yoongi wasn’t finished yet.

+++

The Seesaw Inn was quiet again. It had been a week since Christmas, and Yoongi was back to his usual routine: tending the fire, fixing leaky pipes, and keeping to himself. The decorations Jimin had insisted on leaving up still twinkled faintly, like they were mocking him.

Yoongi hadn’t expected to miss the noise. But he did.

So when he heard the distant hum of an approaching car, he frowned, stepping onto the porch to see what poor soul had braved the snow. His breath misted in the cold air as he watched a familiar car pull into the driveway.

The door opened, and there he was. Jimin.

Bundled up against the cold, his bright red scarf flapping like a flag of victory, Jimin grinned widely as he stepped out of the car. “Yoongi-ssi!”

Yoongi felt warmth rush through his chest, though he only muttered, “It’s hyung, and you’re too loud.”

But before Yoongi could say more, two other figures tumbled out of the car - one tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp doe eyes – whose name Yoongi learned later was Jungkook, and the other with a mischievous smile and a luxurious coat wrapped snugly around him and also Jimin’s best friend – Taehyung.

“We’re here!” Taehyung declared dramatically, linking his arm through Jimin’s.

“Did you bring the whole city with you?” Yoongi grumbled, squinting at the trio.

Jimin bounced up the steps, his cheeks flushed from the cold. “You’re welcome, hyung. I wanted my friends to meet my future husband.”

Yoongi froze, blinking at him. “Your what?”

“My future husband,” Jimin repeated nonchalantly, turning to grin at Jungkook and Taehyung, who looked far too entertained by the exchange. “I told them all about you, so I had to bring them to meet you.”

Yoongi scoffed, though he felt his ears turning pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re blushing,” Taehyung sing-songed, earning a smirk from Jungkook.

“Inside,” Yoongi barked, pointing at the door as he turned to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Before you freeze and I have to explain it to your friends.”

The evening turned out far better than Yoongi had expected. Jungkook was quiet but polite, helping Yoongi chop wood without being asked, while Taehyung filled the room with chatter and stories that had Jimin doubled over laughing. They ate together in the warm glow of the inn, sharing drinks and counting down to midnight.

And when the clock struck twelve, Yoongi didn’t even complain when Jimin threw his arms around him, shouting, “Happy New Year, hyung!”

“Happy New Year, city boy,” Yoongi muttered, ruffling Jimin’s hair gruffly but gently.

One year later, The Seesaw Inn was no longer quiet.

Yoongi stood in the kitchen, wiping flour off his hands as the sound of laughter echoed through the halls. It had been like this all day - voices, chatter, the occasional crash of something Jimin had dropped.

And Yoongi wouldn’t have it any other way.

He glanced out the doorway into the lobby, where the Christmas tree stood tall and glowing in its usual corner. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, warming the room as their friends filled the space.

Seokjin and Namjoon sat on the couch, squabbling good-naturedly over whose turn it was to choose the next board game. Across from them, Taehyung was sitting cross-legged on the rug, snapping photos with his camera while Jungkook watched fondly, one arm slung around Taehyung’s shoulders.

Hoseok was in the corner with Soo-ah, the two of them laughing quietly as little Minhyun - now much braver than before - ran excitedly around the room, holding up paper snowflakes he had cut himself. “Yoongi-samchon! Jimin-samchon! Look!”

From the kitchen doorway, Yoongi smiled softly.

And then there was Jimin.

Standing on a chair, carefully fixing the lights that had slipped off the top of the tree, he was still as bright and energetic as the day he’d walked into Yoongi’s life. He turned, catching Yoongi watching him, and beamed. “Almost perfect, hyung! Just a few more lights!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips betrayed him with a smile. “You’re going to fall and break your neck.”

“Nonsense. I’m very nimble,” Jimin teased, hopping down gracefully. “And you said it’s not Christmas without the lights.”

Yoongi didn’t reply, but he didn’t deny it either.

Jimin crossed the room to him, his smile softening as he slipped his hand into Yoongi’s. “You okay?”

Yoongi looked down at their joined hands before meeting Jimin’s gaze. “Yeah.” He glanced back at the tree and the people who now filled his inn. Their inn. “Better than okay.”

Jimin’s smile widened, and he tugged Yoongi gently toward the others. “Come on, hyung. You’re in charge of hot cocoa. Don’t think I’ll let you sneak away and be grumpy somewhere.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Yoongi muttered, though his fingers curled more tightly around Jimin’s hand.

“Sure,” Jimin teased. “Whatever you say, Mr. Christmas Spirit.”

Yoongi let himself be pulled along, the sound of laughter and warmth filling his ears. A year ago, the inn had been empty and silent - a reflection of himself. But now… now it was alive.

And it was because of him.

Because of Jimin.

When they sat around the fire later that night, Yoongi glanced at the people he now called family - Seokjin, Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook, Hoseok, Soo-ah, and Minhyun. The tree glowed warmly, Jimin curled into his side, and outside the snow fell softly against the windows.

For the first time in years, Yoongi’s heart felt full.

“Merry Christmas,” Jimin murmured sleepily, his head resting on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi pressed a soft kiss to the top of Jimin’s head, his voice low but steady. “Merry Christmas, city boy.”

The Seesaw Inn was no longer just a place to sleep. It was a home.

THE END