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Christmas had always been one of Zoey’s absolute favorite holidays. Out of the eighty-seven she adored, it still reigned at the top. She loved the way the holiday spirit seemed to weave itself into everything around her — the way snow dusted the world in a cold shimmer of magic, cities transforming into glowing galaxies of lights and music and how their boulevards became warm, inviting havens offering hot chocolate and churros to anyone wandering through the winter night.
It was truly the most wonderful time of the year.
Normally, she‘d spend the holidays with her family in Burbank, considering this is one of the few times where she gets to visit them. But this year, she wanted to also spend at least some of those holidays with her other family.
Rumi and Mira had been so incredibly kind to her over the years, both in their idol career and as girlfriends, and she wanted to share some of her favorite christmas activities with them. It was quite the shock to her when she had found out just how differently Christmas was celebrated in Korea compared to the US.
“Wait… so you don’t bake cookies during the holidays?” Zoey had asked, staring at them as if they’d just confessed to never having heard of snow.
“Nope,” Mira had replied without hesitation. “My parents considered that sort of thing beneath them, and therefore forbade us from partaking in it as well. ‘That’s what the staff is for,’ they’d say. I mean I wanted to, but they didn‘t care.“
“What about you, Rumi?”
Rumi had paused, brows knitting together as she thought about it. “Me and Celine did it once or twice when I was very little, but… it wasn’t a regular thing. We bought some Christmas cakes from time to time, but that‘s about it.”
Zoey had blinked at them, scandalized. “Okay… but you at least had a Christmas tree, right?”
Mira and Rumi had exchanged a glance.
“…Right?”
“Well,” Mira had said slowly, “we did technically have one. But it was this big, white, artificial thing. No decorations we picked ourselves, no presents under it. It was mostly just… there. For ambience, in case we had guests over.”
“Me and Celine did decorate the tree at the shrine with some lights, but that‘s about it. No Christmas tree in our house.“
“What about Christmas movies?“ she had asked hopefully.
“Zoey, I was lucky if they even turned on the TV,“ Mira had answered.
“Rumi?“ Zoey had asked, the hope in her voice already faltering.
“Like I said with the other things: Occasionally, not traditionally.“
Zoey had opened her mouth, closed it again, then lifted a finger like she was assembling evidence for a court case as she counted out loud.
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” she had said.
“You didn’t bake cookies. You didn’t decorate a tree together, except you, Rumi. You didn’t watch corny holiday movies, you didn’t even make hot chocolate from scratch — did you?”
Mira and Rumi had both shaken their heads, looking faintly apologetic.
“This is a crime against the sanctity of Christmas,” she had muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Alright, I’ve got about a week to teach you two the actual ways of the holiday before I leave for the airport. We’re going to bake cookies, watch Christmas movies, absolutely drown each other in love and affection, and — most importantly — get a real Christmas tree and decorate it together!”
She hesitated, her usual bravado softening at the edges. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, unmistakable even beneath her playful grin. Zoey knew herself — knew how her excitement sometimes burned too bright, how her enthusiasm had been called too much more times than she could count. The fear crept in quietly, the way it always did: the fear of overwhelming, of overstepping, of wanting too hard.
“I mean… if that’s something you want, of course. I don’t want to push—”
But Rumi and Mira had exchanged a look, one of those quiet, wordless conversations they’d learned to have, before stepping forward and wrapping Zoey in a warm, tight hug.
“Of course we’d want to do this with you,” Rumi had said softly.
“Yeah,” Mira had added, resting her chin on Zoey’s head. “It’s about time we make our own traditions.“
Zoey froze for a moment, before her arms curled around both of them with just as much dedication.
“You— you can’t say that stuff to me!” she protested, gripping them both tighter. “Do you want me to melt into a gay puddle on the floor? Because that’s how you get a gay puddle on the floor!”
Despite her words, she nuzzled closer, cheeks burning.
“…God, I love you two so stupidly much.”
Zoey prided herself on having a notebook for almost every situation one could find themselves in, with Christmas being no exception. She dug through her closet and found one of the older ones she made right before moving to Korea: “Zoey’s Ultimate Christmas Guide™.“
“Alright,” she said, gathering her girlfriends in the living room. Rumi and Mira sat beside each other on the couch, Mira having slung an arm across Rumi’s back, while she rested her head on Mira’s shoulder. They both looked up at Zoey with a soft expression, smiles on their faces as they watched her. She stood before them, her notebook open in one hand while she wildly gestured with the other like a missionary teaching an uncontacted tribe about the word of god. She held it with such reverence it might as well have been her version of the Bible. “Step one: get a Christmas tree.”
She glanced up, eyes bright with excitement.
“Which, by the way, is already taken care of. I ordered a real tree, and the delivery app says it should arrive sometime this week.”
Zoey looked back to the pages, missing the small glance Mira and Rumi exchanged with each other. “Okay, Step 2: Decorate the house.“
She looked around their living room, taking in the space with a small frown. Unlike the lobby of their tower — which was already glowing with lights, garlands, and enough ornaments to make a department store jealous — their actual living space looked almost bare by comparison.
Being part of one of the most successful idol groups in history usually meant very little downtime; add demon hunting to the schedule, and they were lucky to get any sleep, let alone decorate.
No twinkling lights, no candles, no wreaths or ribbons — nothing to hint at the season. The only indication that it was that time of year was the snow slowly drifting outside their windows.
“This is depressing,“ she muttered. “The good news is that we were allowed to ‘borrow‘ some of the left-over decorations.“ Neither Mira nor Rumi failed to notice how Zoey added some quotation marks with her fingers while saying it.
“Zoey.“ Mira looked at her with a stern look. “Did you seriously steal Christmas decorations?“
“WHAT? NO, of course not! I just… temporarily relocated them!“ She clapped her hands. “Anyways, let's not dwell on it and start decorating!“
Mira rolled her eyes but had a fond expression on her face as Zoey walked away, returning a couple moments later with three large boxes stacked on top of each other. They were full of various lights, lametta, statues and stars, which the girls started spreading around their living space.
Rumi took it upon herself to place at least five Christmas figures in small little groups all throughout their apartment. Some snowmen here, a few reindeers there. It looked like they were being invaded by the army of Santa Claus. Mira was busy hanging up some Christmas lights along their walls, doorways and some of the windows while Zoey went around planting ribbons, white wool as a stand-in for snow and throwing lametta all over the place, including her fellow bandmates.
Rumi was busy arranging a group of nearly identical Santas in a neat row when she felt something shift gently in her hair. She paused, eyebrows rising, and glanced over her shoulder. Zoey stood behind her, caught in the unmistakable act of weaving lametta into her braid like a mischievous magpie. Rumi let out a soft chuckle.
“Zoey?“ she asked with a sly grin. “What are you doing?“
Zoey jerked as if she was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar (again). “NOTHING!“ she replied far too quickly. “Just, uhhh… decorating!“
Rumi turned to face her, lips curving into a playful smile. “So you’re decorating me? Am I not pretty enough for you already?”
Zoey’s eyes went wide. “WHAT? No— no, no, absolutely not!” Her face flushed pink as she rubbed the back of her neck. “You’re— you’re gorgeous. I just thought… the gold and silver would look beautiful with your purple hair. Like little highlights. I wanted to make you even prettier.”
Rumi let out a soft laugh. “I'm just teasing you.”
She stepped toward the nearest mirror, and the moment she caught sight of her reflection, she understood. The lametta had been woven delicately between strands, subtle but shimmering, little threads of gold and silver nestled in her braid. She touched one of the pieces with gentle fingertips, her expression softening.
“Zoey, this looks… incredible,“ she murmured.
Zoey grinned, shy but proud. “Only because you look incredible,” she said, teasing but honest. She leaned in, resting her head on Rumi‘s shoulder as her arms looped around her stomach from behind. “It took me twenty minutes to sneak it in without you noticing, you know? But I bet it’ll look even better if I actually get prep time.”
Rumi‘s hands found hers, gently resting on them as she spoke.
“We definitely need to keep this in mind for future outfits,“ Rumi replied.
“Already put it down in a notebook.“ Zoey answered, looking towards the living room where Mira was currently hanging up more lights. “Now let’s see if I can glam up our resident goddess over there.”
She squeezed Rumi, before turning around, sneaking slowly towards their unsuspecting visual. She was about to weave in the first strand when Mira spoke up without turning around.
“Zoey, I swear to the Honmoon, if you touch my hair, I’m going to revoke your cuddle privileges for an entire week.”
“But Miraaaaaa,” Zoey whined, lips pushed into an exaggerated pout. “I just want you to look all pretty and shiny too!”
“Zoey,” Mira said, beginning to turn around with the full intent to lecture. “The last time you wanted me to ‘look pretty,’ it took me two whole weeks to get the glitter out of my—”
She froze mid-sentence.
Because there, barely a few inches from her, was Zoey: bottom lip trembling, eyes wide and shimmering like the world’s saddest puppy. The sight hit Mira squarely in the chest, her stern resolve evaporating on contact after being exposed to Zoey‘s irresistable cuteness.
She let out a long, resigned sigh.
“…One strand.”
Zoey lit up with a triumphant sparkle as she moved to delicately put a gold-strand through her hair.
“You look absolutely stunning!“ Zoey said, admiring her work.
Mira let out a low chuckle.
“I‘m the visual, Zoey. That‘s kinda my job.“
“If that‘s your job, then why do you still look stunning off the clock?“
Mira’s laugh softened, a faint blush dusting her cheeks despite her best attempt at keeping her cool.
“Careful,” she murmured, nudging Zoey’s shoulder with her own. “Keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking you’re trying to flirt with me.”
Zoey gasped dramatically, clutching her chest.
“Start thinking? Mira, please, I’ve been flirting with you since the day we met. You’re just criminally slow at noticing.”
Mira‘s blush turned deeper, although she was trying her best to hide it.
Rumi, finished with adjusting her row of miniature Santas, let out a bright laugh as she walked over. “Honestly? She has a point.”
"See? My girlfriend believes in me.”
“I’m also your girlfriend,” Mira reminded her, crossing her arms in mock indignation.
“Exactly!” Zoey said, stepping closer and looping her arms around Mira’s neck. “Which means I get to make the both of you all pretty and pampered and adored. It’s in the girlfriend job description. You should‘ve read the fine print.”
Mira’s facade cracked entirely as she leaned in, resting her chin on top of Zoey’s head.
“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, voice fond.
“And you love me for it,” Zoey replied.
Rumi joined them, slipping her arms around both of their shoulders and pulling them into a soft three-way squeeze.
“She’s right, you know,” Rumi said warmly. “We do love you.”
Zoey made a tiny, contented sound — half giggle, half sigh — and melted into the embrace.
“Best Christmas prep ever,” she whispered.
As the days passed, Zoey found herself falling in love with her girlfriends all over again. The way Rumi and Mira moved around each other while decorating — effortlessly synchronized, as if they’d been doing it for years — made her heart melt.
She had only two days left before she needed to catch her flight, and she was determined to finish the last three items on her Christmas list.
No excuses, no compromises.
The tree, however, stubbornly refused to cooperate. The delivery kept being pushed back, and every update made her shoulders sink a little further. Rumi and Mira tried to comfort her — suggested they could buy an artificial tree instead — but Zoey wouldn’t have it. It had to be a real tree. She was clinging to the hope of a Christmas miracle with all the unshakeable optimism of a Hallmark protagonist.
There would be a real tree.
There would be presents underneath it.
And she absolutely refused to accept any universe in which that didn’t happen.
But while she waited for fate (and the delivery service) to do its part, she could at least cross off number 31 from her list — one she’d been excited about from the beginning: baking Christmas cookies with her girls.
For once, Zoey’s usual whirlwind chaos had been replaced by something that almost resembled organization: most ingredients were already lined up on the counter, the bowls set out and butter softened by the stove. She was even attempting to retrieve the flour before her girlfriends arrived.
Given something that happened a couple years ago, she was no longer permitted within ten feet of flour without supervision, and both Mira and Rumi made sure that any kind of flour was outside of her reach. Unfortunately, they didn’t hide it well enough this time, and supervision arrived a few seconds too late.
Zoey stood on her tiptoes beneath the tallest cabinet, fingers fluttering desperately toward a bag of flour, which sat dangerously close to the edge.
“Zoey, you know you can’t have the flour,” Rumi warned gently as she and Mira stepped into the kitchen. They were wearing some of the Christmas sweaters she had given them as dictated by Step 12 of “Zoey´s Ultimate Christmas Guide™” and looked absolutely adorable.
Mira‘s was a deep shade of red, with white triangular shapes patterned across it, while Rumi‘s was a dark green that had dozens of Christmas trees spread across it in all shapes and sizes.
“I know,” Zoey said, still stretching upward, face determined. “I just thought I’d try and prepare it for you two.”
“Zoey, if you don’t stop, it’s going to fall,” Mira cut in, already striding toward her with the resignation of someone who’d been here before. “Just let me grab it.”
But Zoey was nothing if not stubborn.
Her fingertips brushed the bag. Her eyes lit up and she let out a triumphant squeal.
“Got it!”
What she didn’t have, however, was an understanding of momentum.
She yanked. Hard.
The bag launched itself over her head like it was trying to escape the premises, colliding with Mira’s head in an explosion of white. The bag burst open with a thunderous fwumph, swallowing Mira in a cloud of flour so thick the kitchen looked like it had experienced spontaneous winter.
Rumi clamped her hands over her mouth, suppressing a small yelp.
Zoey froze.
Out of the dissolving fog, a pair of brown, razor-sharp eyes glowed back at her like an enraged polar bear preparing for homicide. As the flour settled, Mira emerged — completely white from head to toe. Even the festive blood-red Christmas sweater Zoey had coerced her into wearing was now ghostly pale.
Only her eyes remained untouched. And they promised consequences.
Rumi, torn between concern and laughter, took a cautious step forward. “Mira? Are you okay?”
Mira slowly fixated Zoey under her piercing gaze. It was the sort of stare one typically saw before a boss fight.
Zoey let out a nervous laugh.
“I… I can fix this?” she offered weakly.
“With what?” Mira growled, voice somehow both soft and terrifying. “More flour?”
Zoey took a step back. “N-No! I mean—I’ll clean it! I’ll clean everything! I’ll scrub the ceiling! I’ll vacuum the walls! I’ll—”
Rumi gently touched Mira’s arm, brushing some of the flour away. “Mir… please don’t murder her in the kitchen. We still need to bake.”
Mira inhaled, then exhaled, then inhaled again like she was performing a ritual to calm her nerves in order to prevent felony charges.
Zoey wilted. “I’m… really, really sorry.”
Mira stared at her a moment longer — then flicked a puff of flour off her shoulder.
“One more flour incident, Zoey… and you’re banned from the kitchen until—”
Mira stopped mid-threat, sucking in a sharp breath before she could finish. She barely had time to lift her hands before a tiny, impossibly cute sneeze escaped her. A soft puff of flour exploded off her sweater and hair like she’d turned into a very grumpy, very sparkly snow fairy. Another thin cloud of flour drifted into the air.
Zoey snorted so hard she had to clap both hands over her mouth, shoulders trembling as she tried — and failed — not to giggle. Rumi wasn’t faring much better, half-covering her smile with the back of her hand.
Mira slowly lowered her hands from her face, blinking through the settling dust with the exhausted dignity of someone who had accepted her fate.
“—until spring,” she finished flatly, even though her voice was still adorably stuffy from the sneeze.
“You look like a homicidal powdered donut,” Zoey wheezed. “A very pretty powdered donut! But please don’t kill me — pretty please?”
She clasped her hands together, trying to look repentant but absolutely failing because she kept giggling.
Mira just stared at her for a long, dangerous second… then let out another tiny sneeze.
Zoey had to brace herself against the counter, wheezing like an overworked steam engine as she tried not to collapse from sheer lack of oxygen.
Rumi finally gave up trying to hide her grin, stepping closer to wrap an arm around Mira’s shoulders and brush some flour out of her hair.
“Okay, okay,” Zoey said between breathless giggles, “I will not touch anything that could explode, combust, or create snowstorms without supervision. I promise. My beautiful, furious, seasonally-themed menace.”
Mira’s glare softened just an inch — just enough for Zoey to know she was forgiven… for now.
She sighed and placed a hand on the one that was currently resting on her shoulder. “Let’s just… start over.”
Zoey brightened like a golden retriever being told she wasn’t actually in trouble. “Okay! I’ll… I’ll go wash my hands!”
“You’ll go wash everything,” Mira corrected.
Zoey bolted towards their cleaning closet, looking for their vacuum. Rumi leaned toward Mira, smothering a laugh. “You look like a very annoyed Christmas ghost.”
Mira deadpanned. “I feel like one.”
Rumi kissed the flour off her cheek, before wiping away some of the flour that was stuck in her hair. “Still beautiful, though.”
Mira’s scowl softened — just a little.
“Flattery won’t save her,” she muttered, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
“I know,” Rumi said softly, “but this really matters to her. And… it matters to me too.” She gently brushed a loose strand of Mira’s hair aside and cupped her face with both hands, thumbs warm against her cheeks. “I’ve never celebrated Christmas like this before, and getting to experience it with you two, it’s… really nice. So please… don’t murder her just yet.”
A reluctant laugh slipped out of Mira, the tension in her shoulders easing. She lifted one hand to cover Rumi’s, leaning just slightly into her touch.
“I’ll try,” she sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Thanks to Zoey throwing her entire chaotic soul into the cleanup process — half-sprinting between counter and sink, humming Christmas music, and somehow managing to use three towels at once — they finally reset the kitchen for actual baking. Mira had cleaned up and changed into a green Christmas sweater with a cartoon reindeer and a shiny red pom-pom nose in the center. It was tacky. It was ridiculous. It was absolutely adorable on her.
“Alright!” Zoey announced, slapping her hands together and immediately sending a tiny puff of flour back into the air. She had put on a bright-red apron with white accents that resembled a candy cane. “Cookie time!”
Rumi slid the mixing bowl toward the center of the counter and grabbed the sugar, humming under her breath. Zoey grabbed the whisk and began stirring like she was trying to drill through the bowl.
“Zoey,” Mira said, placing a steadying hand on her wrist, “we’re making cookies, not digging through the counter.”
Rumi laughed, nudging Zoey‘s shoulder. “Come on, let’s mix this more calmly before you break the bowl. Mira, would you mind putting on some music?“
Mira grabbed her phone and connected it to their sound system. With a few taps, she pulled up a playlist labeled “Holiday Classics“ and hit play. Soft chiming bells drifted through the kitchen like falling snowflakes.
Zoey froze.
Her entire body went rigid, like someone had just whispered the name of an ancient enemy. She knew that melody. She knew it too well. It was the same song that had haunted every December of her retail job back in America — the store overflowing with frantic shoppers, the endless hours on her feet… and that one particular carol repeating roughly four thousand times a day.
And then the singer’s gentle voice floated into the room.
Zoey moved on instinct.
Before Mira could blink, Zoey was suddenly at her side, snatching the phone from her hands like a lightning strike. She slammed the stop button, deleted the song from the playlist with ruthless efficiency, double-checked it was gone from all folders, and even hit “Remove from library” for good measure — all in under five seconds.
Only then did awareness catch up to her. Zoey blinked down at the phone in her hands… then slowly up at the two stunned faces staring at her.
Rumi looked equal parts confused and concerned, while Mira‘s brain seemed to have blue-screened.
“Zoey…?” Rumi asked carefully. “What just happened?”
Zoey inhaled slowly, visibly trying to regain composure. Then, in the flattest, most haunted tone imaginable, she said, “I’m sorry. My trauma responded before I did.”
Mira opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. “…Trauma?”
Zoey handed the phone back with trembling reverence, as though returning a disarmed bomb. “That song is the bane of my personal existence during the Christmas-season.” She shuddered. “In retail, they played it twelve times an hour. Every. Single. Day.”
Rumi blinked. “Twelve—?“
“No one should hear that song more than twice a year,” Zoey continued, voice grave. “I’ve seen grown adults snap in the cereal aisle because of that song. I’m still not emotionally prepared to hear it outside a war zone.”
Mira snorted before she could stop herself. “Oh my god...”
“I’m serious!” Zoey insisted, pointing accusingly at the speaker like it had personally wronged her. “That melody has hurt me!“
Rumi gently rubbed her back. “Okay, okay. We‘ll leave that song out of our apartment.”
“And if she ever plays again,” Zoey added, narrowing her eyes at the innocent playlist, “we run.”
Mira rolled her eyes, but a fond smile tugged at her lips. “Noted, soldier.”
Zoey stood up straight, saluting in front of Mira. “I appreciate your service.”
Rumi just laughed. “Alright, chaotic one. Pick a song you can handle.”
Zoey perked up instantly. “Oh! I already have one in mind!“
Grabbing her own phone, she put on another playlist. The music sounded distorted, like it was playing over an old shabby speaker.
“Geez, how old is this song?“ Mira asked.
“Does it matter? It's a classic!“
“Zoey, how old are you again?“
Zoey let out an exasperated groan. “I‘m only two years younger than you two. You don’t have to diss me like that!”
“But you look so cute when you’re annoyed,” Rumi teased, bopping the tip of Zoey‘s nose, leaving a small smudge of flour.
Zoey playfully swatted it away, before crossing her arms. “Okay, first of all: I always look cute. Secondly: I know where you both sleep.”
“Is that a threat?” Mira asked, raising a skeptical brow.
“It’s not a threat,” Zoey said sweetly, batting her eyelashes with manufactured innocence. “It’s a promise.”
“Damn, noted,“ Mira said, with an exaggerated look of surprise on her face.
They continued working in rhythm — Zoey dumping in ingredients with the energy of a caffeinated squirrel, Rumi smoothing and measuring with calm precision, and Mira keeping them both on track with the stern discipline of a drill sergeant… who was also a little bit fond of the chaos.
Soon, the dough was ready, soft and golden in the bowl.
Mira, using hands that both Rumi and Zoey practically worshipped with a cult-like obsession, kneaded out the dough before rolling it out.
Zoey was already in full gremlin-elf mode, lining up the cookie cutters in an impeccably neat row: stars, gingerbread men, crescent moons, reindeer, and an entire assortment of geometric shapes. She even put out some of the other cutters they had, like hearts, lightning bolts, clouds and animals. Each came in multiple sizes, promising a large batch of cookies by the end of the night.
Rumi, meanwhile, retrieved the decorations with the precision of someone taking inventory for a candy shop. She set out jars of colorful sprinkles, tiny silver pearls, edible glitter (Zoey’s uncontested favorite), several pastel glazes, frosting tubes, and a handful of sweets — gummi bears, mini marshmallows, and neatly chopped squares of chocolate.
The kitchen filled with warmth, clinking bowls, and the kind of happiness that came from creating something together.
“Okay,“ Zoey said, stepping back. “Mira, as the official connoisseur of Christmas, I give you the honor to cut out the first cookie.“
Mira gave her a dry smile while looking at the various cutters. “Who on earth was reckless enough to elect you?”
“Bold of you to assume there was a fair election,“ Zoey shot back with a smug grin.
Mira snorted, looking over the collection of cookie cutters spread neatly across the counter. Stars, reindeer, moons, gingerbread men, snowflakes, and bells, all in every size. After a moment of contemplation, she tapped one with her finger.
“This one.“
“A reindeer,“ Rumi pointed out.
“It suits you,“ Zoey immediately chimed in with a grin. “They look absolutely adorable, but could probably murder you if you looked at them wrong.“
Mira rolled her eyes, but affection softened the gesture. She pressed the cutter into the dough with a firm, deliberate motion. Zoey applauded like she’d just witnessed the coronation of a queen before launching herself into Mira’s arms for a quick squeeze.
“Rumi, now it‘s your turn!“ she said.
Rumi looked over the remaining shapes. Eventually, her hand hovered over a snowflake cutter: intricate, delicate, perfectly shaped, every line intentionally placed.
“This one,” she said quietly.
Zoey’s face lit up. “A snowflake — of course. Precise, beautiful, impossible to copy, and truly one of a kind. That’s so you.”
Rumi’s cheeks warmed, but she smiled anyway as she pressed the snowflake into the dough with steady, confident hands. Zoey practically vibrated with excitement as she bounced forward.
“My turn!“ she declared, already scanning the lineup like she was choosing her weapon for battle. She hummed dramatically, tapping her chin as if she were faced with a choice that decided the fate of reality. Then, her eyes lit up with triumphant mischief.
“This one,” she announced, snatching up a lightning bolt–shaped cutter.
Rumi blinked. “A lightning bolt?”
“Obviously!” Zoey said, as though it were the most self-evident truth in the world. She posed with it held high, dramatic and proud. “Behold — Zoey’s ultimate symbol. Chaotic energy, destructive potential, and a 50/50 chance of causing property damage!”
Mira snorted. “That… actually tracks.”
“And,” Zoey added, softening for just a moment as she pressed the cutter into the dough with exaggerated ceremony, “it’s also because you two always say I strike your lives like lightning. Shocking, loud, and impossible to ignore.”
“Given your long, colorful history of somehow annoying and charming us — and the fans — at the exact same time, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Zoey placed the lightning bolt closely beside the snowflake and reindeer, pressing it down.
“Alright,“ Zoey declared, leaning back and admiring their work so far. “Now that we have the semantics out of the way, let's get started. I CALL DIBS ON THE BELLS!!!“
Chaos promptly ensued.
After a couple of hours — plus several near-disasters involving spilled sugar, a frosting tube explosion, and Zoey attempting to dual-wield spatulas like weapons — they finally managed to get every cookie into the oven.
Which meant it was time for the best part: decorating.
Rumi approached it with intense precision, like she did with everything that was supposed to be fun, arranging colors and patterns like she was preparing pastries for a five-star gala. Mira, in contrast, took a casual, almost lazy approach — sprinkling decorations in whatever direction her wrist happened to move, humming along to the music. And Zoey… well, Zoey tried to make her cookies look like a unicorn thrown up on them. There was glitter everywhere.
“Zoey,” Mira said slowly, staring at the ungodly creation in front of her. Zoey had somehow assembled five cookies into a precarious tower, glued together with icing, drowning in gummy bears, glitter, and what Mira prayed wasn’t the entire tube of chocolate. “I’m getting diabetes just from looking at this.”
“You simply lack the neurodivergence required to appreciate my artistic vision,“ Zoey replied with dramatic indignation, adding yet another layer of glaze as if to prove a point.
“It’s not artistic vision,” Mira deadpanned. “It’s a cry for help.”
Rumi snorted, holding back a laugh as she piped delicate icing onto her snowflakes. “Honestly, Zoey, I’m impressed. I didn’t know it was physically possible to commit this many crimes against confectionery in under five minutes.”
Zoey gasped loudly, clutching her chest. “Excuse you, I am a pioneer. A visionary. An innovator in the field of edible chaos.”
“You’re a mad scientist,” Mira muttered, leaning over to inspect Zoey’s cookie-tower more closely. “Not sure the field you’re innovating in is… legal.”
Rumi elbowed Mira lightly. “Be nice. At least she’s having fun.”
Zoey shot her a grin. “See? Rumi gets it. You‘re just jealous because my cookies are going to be the prettiest.”
“Pretty isn’t the word I’d use,” Mira said under her breath.
“Oh?” Zoey leaned closer with a wicked smirk. “Got a better one?”
“Yeah,” Mira answered, lips curling into a slow smile. “Hazardous.”
Rumi bursts out laughing, nearly smearing icing across her cookie.
Zoey huffed, grabbed a handful of edible glitter, and declared, “Fine. If my cookies are hazardous, then so will be yours.”
Before either of them could react, a flurry of glitter rained down, coating all three of them in a thin, sparkling dust.
Rumi blinked. Mira sighed. Zoey grinned like she had just achieved victory.
And despite all the laughing, playful banter and everything being covered in glitter, the cookies still tasted great.
Tomorrow was the day Zoey had to leave for the airport — which meant she had only two more items left on her Christmas checklist. The first was decorating the tree… assuming it actually arrived. The company had sworn it would be delivered tonight, and despite a week of delays, Zoey still clung to her stubborn, sparkling hope.
Rumi and Mira had spent the entire week gently trying to convince her to settle for an artificial one, but Zoey refused with all the conviction of someone defending her last shred of childhood magic. To her, Christmas just wasn’t Christmas without the smell of a real tree. And so, the wrapped presents sat in a lonely pile in the corner of the living room, looking strangely out of place without their evergreen companion.
The second thing on her list was far simpler, and far sweeter: watching Christmas movies together. And no matter what happened with the tree, that was one tradition Zoey would make absolutely sure they kept.
Zoey had already picked out her favorite, which was “Rudolph“. She remembered how she had watched it every year with her family back in America, and how it practically became tradition.
Sure, she had watched creepy, romantical, and comical movies with her girls, but basking in this feeling of nostalgia with them on one of her most favorite holidays made her little heart explode with joy. They settled down beneath a big, heavy blanket, huddled closely together in a mess of tangled limbs and absolutely content with just being in each other's presence.
“That reindeer is such a little shit,” Mira muttered as one of the animated deer started mocking Rudolph’s glowing red nose. “I’d punch him so hard he’d end up with a nose redder than Rudolph’s.”
“Yeah, Arrow reminds me of a kid who used to make fun of me in school,” Zoey said, crossing her arms. “But honestly? I think he just doesn’t have the emotional maturity yet to understand what’s going on, so… maybe we should forgive him?“
Rumi tilted her head, impressed. “That’s very kind of you. Does that mean you forgive the kid from school, too?”
“Fuck no,” Zoey said immediately, not missing a beat. “He was definitely old enough to know better. He did it for the drama, not out of ignorance.”
Mira snorted. “Wow. Someone holds a grudge.”
“Mira,” Zoey fired back, deadpan, “you literally offered — unprompted — to ‘hunt down and bury’ our replacement driver because he didn’t hold the door open for me.”
Mira opened her mouth… and promptly closed it again.
“…Point taken.“ Her hand was currently slung across Rumi´s shoulders, so she reached a bit further to move her fingers through Zoey´s hair. “But unlike the driver, that guy deserves it, I agree.”
As Rudolph’s glowing nose cut through the snowstorm, Zoey shifted where she laid across Rumi‘s lap and looked up at her.
“You know,” she began thoughtfully, “Ever since you revealed your patterns, I thought you and Rudolph were kind of the same.”
Mira snorted, quickly covering her mouth, as Rumi lifted an eyebrow.
“Oh? So I’m a reindeer now? Since when do I have antlers and a glowing red nose?”
“Well, you do turn red sometimes when I say or do certain things in the bedroom, like that one time—"
“Okay!” Rumi cut in before Zoey could finish, her cheeks already warming, as a pulse of light pink flashed through her patterns, indicating her embarrassment. “I get it! Please continue before this spirals.”
Zoey giggled softly, then her expression softened. She grabbed a hold of Rumi‘s hand, gently caressing it.
“What I mean is… you’re our leader. The person we’d follow into any storm. And the thing you always thought made you different, the patterns, that’s your strength.“ She rubbed her thumb across Rumi‘s knuckles, sending a slight shiver through Rumi. “Kinda like Rudolph’s nose. He thought it made him weird or unwanted, but it’s what made him shine. Same with you. What you call imperfections are the things that make you unique… and loved.”
“Zoey…” Rumi whispered, a small tear slipping down her cheek as her patterns pulsed with a gentle gold. “Why’d you have to say that? Now I’m getting all emotional!”
Mira leaned closer, placing a hand on Rumi’s cheek and humming the movie’s theme tune under her breath, brushing another tear aside with her thumb.
“Rumi, the gold-patterned human…” she teased, her voice low and laced with affection.
Rumi bumped her shoulder into Mira’s with a watery smile. “Shut up.”
Zoey took that moment to climb out of Rumi’s lap, letting go of her hand just long enough to wrap her in a warm, full-bodied hug, holding her tight. She could feel Mira on Rumi‘s other side doing the same, her long arms easily encapsulating both Rumi and herself. They held onto each other, a tangled mess of limbs and love, feeling their hearts beating in sync, as Rudolph led the reindeers through the storm.
While the credits rolled, Zoey got a notification on her phone. She turned over to Rumi, while trying to untangle herself from their limbs. She smiled apologetically.
“Sorry, gotta take that. I‘ll be right back.“
Rumi whined, making grabby hands as Zoey got up to retrieve her phone. She grabbed it from the coffee table, but once she read the message, she did a double-take. She read it once. Then Twice. Again and again, as if her sheer stubbornness could somehow change its contents.
“No, no, no, nonono," she said, her voice rising with each word.
Both girls turned their heads towards her. Mira spoke first.
“What is it?“
“They can't be serious, this must be a joke.“ She looked up from her phone screen, a look of confusion on her face. “They said that they couldn't deliver the tree. Only next week. I gave them my money! They said they‘d deliver it today!“
She braced her head with her hands, fingers digging through her hair. Zoey‘s frustration turned to anger, which Rumi tried her best to soothe.
“Calm down, nothing‘s lost yet. Maybe we could buy an artificial one?“
“That‘s not gonna cut it!“ Zoey interjected. “It‘s about the tree being real, decorating it together and having to clean up needles from the floor every five minutes! And where are we gonna get one this late anyways? I have to go to the airport tomorrow!“
Zoey hunched over, burying her face in her hands.
“I should‘ve listened to you. I ruined Christmas…“
She felt the couch cushions sink in at her sides, before two sets of arms wrapped around her. She felt Rumi‘s words hot against her ear.
“Please don‘t say that.“ She cupped Zoey’s face in between her hands, turning it to face her. “You didn‘t ruin anything. You‘ve shown us many of the beautiful ways one can celebrate Christmas together, and we appreciate you for that, we really do.“
“While getting turned into a flour monster wasn‘t on my bucket list, I sure did enjoy the experience," Mira added, her arms wrapping around Zoey. “We‘ll find a solution,“ she said, her words echoing through Zoey‘s head. But her disappointment only wavered ever so slightly. Sure, she did get to celebrate with them at least a little, but it just wasn‘t the same without a Christmas tree.
“I think I‘ll head to bed,“ she muttered. “I need to get up early tomorrow.“
She pressed a soft kiss to each of their cheeks before heading towards her room. As Zoey walked away, Mira and Rumi exchanged a quick glance behind her back, a shared idea already beginning to take shape between them.
Zoey pushed open the door to her room and stepped inside. Chaos greeted her, the same endearing disaster zone it always was. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like a hurricane had come through. To Zoey, it was a perfectly functional ecosystem. A system only she understood.
Her suitcase sat by the door, already packed for the travel she had ahead of herself.
She changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. From her window, the Seoul skyline stretched out in its sparkling glory, trying to push away the darkness of the night’s sky. Zoey pulled the blankets closer.
She should’ve felt satisfied. She’d spent Christmas here with the two people who she lived with all her heart. They baked cookies, made a mess, fought over sprinkles, listened to Christmas music until she nearly had a retail flashback-induced meltdown. She’d laughed, she’d been warm, she’d felt wanted.
It was perfect.
Almost.
Because the most important thing on her list was the one she hadn’t managed to tick off.
And it was her own fault.
It was her stubbornness that led to this. In hindsight, she should‘ve listened to them. But she didn‘t.
Tomorrow they’d open presents, hug her, smile for her, and kiss her until she felt ready to go. She’d hop on a plane to America, and by the time she landed, she’d be surrounded by family — her brothers, cousins, Aunts, nieces, and nephews. She loved them with all her heart, and she couldn’t wait to see them. The gifts she’d sent ahead were already on the way; with any luck, they’d arrive in time.
Zoey let out a quiet breath, sinking deeper into her blankets as the snow outside continued to fall. Her eyelids grew heavier with each passing second.
At least it was a good Christmas, she reminded herself.
Warm. Loud. Chaotic. Hers.
And with that comforting thought, Zoey slowly drifted off to sleep.
The morning arrived far too quickly. Zoey’s blissful sleep was shattered by the shrill, merciless beeping of her alarm. Six in the morning. Of course. She let out a long, wounded groan and slapped the snooze button with the emotional precision of someone who had lived through too many Mondays.
She didn’t want to get up. Every cell in her body insisted she stay wrapped in her blankets forever. But she had to be out the door by 9 a.m. if she wanted to catch her flight.
With another dramatic, theatrical whine that would have made a soap-opera actor proud, she dragged herself upright. Seoul’s glow still poured softly through her window — as if the city had never bothered to sleep at all — snow drifting lazily past the glass.
Zoey shuffled to the door, opened it… and instantly screamed.
Mira stood right there, hand raised mid-knock, dressed in a cropped red Christmas sweater that showed off her sculpted abs, matching shorts, and — of course — a festive hat tilted to one side. A little bow sat on her hip like a final flourish.
Zoey had no time to enjoy how pretty her girlfriend looked, because she practically jumped back.
“Mira! God dammit!” she yelped. “Are you trying to scare me to death?”
“Sorry! Sorry,” Mira said quickly — though the way she bit back a smug grin completely betrayed her. “I just wanted to check whether you were awake or if you slept through your alarm. Again.”
“I never do that.“
“Uh, yeah you do.“
“No.“
“Yes.“
“No.“
“Yes.“
“Nuh-Uh. Defamation and slander.“
“Alright, fine,” Mira sighed with a fond eye-roll.
Only then did Zoey allow herself a moment to actually take Mira in: warm skin glowing in the hallway light, hair soft and a little messy, abs out and devastating, the bow on her hip absolutely illegal.
“…Damn. You look hot.”
“Only hot?” Mira raised a brow.
Zoey blinked. “You look ‘I would fight through literal hell just to get your attention’ hot. If you were a present, I’d unwrap you right now.”
Mira felt a small blush creeping up her face. She quickly turned around. “Rumi‘s waiting for us by the tree, so let's go,“ she said quickly, walking towards the living room.
The lights were dimmed, yet still there was an assortment of colours glowing from somewhere. A mix of blue, red, pink, and yellow.
Wait, did Mira just say “tree“?
“Wait, what do you mean? There is no-“
She walked into the living room, then froze, her words dying in her throat.
There — perched delicately on one of their ottomans, surrounded by presents — stood Rumi.
Her outfit mirrored Mira’s festive ensemble, yet hers was a deep, elegant evergreen, the exact shade of a Christmas tree. A soft shimmer clung to her: strands of twinkling lights Zoey had definitely not stolen from the lobby were wrapped around her hips and arms, casting warm glows across her skin. She held her arms out like graceful branches — one hand cradling a blue ornament, the other a red — her posture somehow both regal and endearingly awkward.
But it was her hair that stole Zoey’s breath entirely. Rumi’s long braid was woven with thin threads of gold and silver lametta, catching every glint of light and turning her into something ethereal, like she had stepped out of a winter fairytale rather than the living room.
Then there were her patterns.
Those soft, luminous markings along her body pulsed gently in sync with her heartbeat — first a tender pink, then a peachy orange, then a warm, buttery yellow. Each shift of color was subtle yet mesmerizing, like the lights were responding to some emotion she hadn’t voiced aloud.
And Zoey… Zoey felt her brain simply short-circuit.
Her heart kicked against her ribs, and her throat tightened as a heat she couldn’t name spread through her chest. Rumi looked breathtaking — beautiful in a way that went beyond pretty outfits and clever decorations. She looked like warmth given shape, like a living symbol of every good and gentle thing Zoey had ever wanted but never dared to hope she’d have.
In that moment, surrounded by twinkling lights and soft snow filtering through the window, Zoey knew she would remember the sight of Rumi like this for the rest of her life.
“There you are," Rumi said, looking at Zoey with a warm smile. “Turns out standing like this is much harder than I expected.
Zoey was utterly speechless, her hands flying to her mouth as she watched Mira step beside Rumi, holding out her phone with a gentle, patient smile.
“Wanna take a picture before we start unwrapping presents?” Mira asked softly, her eyes flicking between Zoey and Rumi.
Zoey stood frozen at the edge of the living room, her chest tight with a mix of awe and joy. A sound escaped her — a strange little noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob — and a single tear slid down her cheek, catching the soft glow of the Christmas lights.
Mira didn’t hesitate. She set the phone down and hurried over, concern etched into her features. Rumi’s warm smile shifted instantly to worry. Mira’s hands gently rested on Zoey’s trembling shoulders.
“Hey, hey… look at me, Zoey. Are you okay?”
Zoey lifted her tear-streaked face to Mira, her eyes glistening as she offered a shaky, watery smile.
“I… I’m fine, it’s just— gosh, I don’t even know how to explain it.” She sniffled softly before throwing herself into Mira’s embrace, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “I love you two so, so much,” she whispered, voice breaking with emotion. Mira tightened her hold immediately, pressing Zoey close.
“We love you too,” Mira murmured into her hair, fingers threading through the strands with gentle reassurance.
“I’m kinda feeling left out here,” Rumi called from her perch, making Zoey laugh through her tears.
“I’ll make it up to you, don’t you worry,” Zoey said, letting go of Mira. “Now, let’s take a picture. I want to remember this moment forever.“ They walked over, but Zoey paused for a moment. “Wait, somethings missing…“
She walked over to another box with ornaments sitting by the wall, digging through it until she found it: a small 5-pointed star and a short stick.
She walked back, jamming the stick into the bottom of the star before handing it to Mira.
„Can you place this on Rumi‘s head?“
Mira stared back at her, before a quiet laugh slipped out from of her. „With pleasure.“
Rumi leaned down slightly, as Mira pushed the end of the stick into the top of Rumi‘s braid, making her look like a unicorn.
They posed together, hearts full, and Mira snapped a quick photo, capturing all their glowing smiles and the warmth radiating between them.
“Alright, Rumi, I think you can come down now. Otherwise how are you going to unwrap your presents?” Mira teased gently.
“Are you sure?” Rumi asked, moving slightly on the ottoman. “I can stay here a little longer if you want—”
“Rumi,” Zoey cut in with a grin, “I got to see you dressed up as a Christmas tree. While I would love to spend Christmas under the Rumi-Tree, I’d much rather unwrap presents with you instead of under you.”
Rumi’s lips curved into a soft, delighted smile as she carefully descended, untangling herself from the lights and ornaments. She left the strands of lametta woven through her braid, which shimmered in the Christmas glow, and Zoey almost fainted at the sight.
They all settled down beside the pile of gifts, a quiet sense of peace enveloping them.
“Alright, who goes first?”
“I think Zoey should,” Rumi said, her voice playful but knowing. “I’ve seen the way you’re eyeing that giant present over there.”
Zoey’s laugh bubbled up. “Guilty,” she admitted, raising her hands in mock surrender. She scooted closer, her fingers shaking slightly with excitement as she lifted the massive box and peeled back the wrapping. Beneath the colorful paper, the black packaging glared back at her, emblazoned with the iconic LEGO logo.
Her heart leapt. “No way… you didn’t!” she shrieked, ripping the paper away with ferocious delight. The words “Star Wars: USC Venator“ stared back at her, accompanied by an epic image of the massive starship. Zoey squealed, grabbing both Mira and Rumi and burying herself between them, peppering them with kisses. They collapsed into a tangle of limbs and laughter, Zoey perched on top, still giggling uncontrollably.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she gushed.
“We know what you like, Zoey,” Rumi said, chuckling between kisses.
“Zoey, stop! I can’t breathe!” Mira laughed, squirming beneath her.
Zoey leaned down, gazing at Mira with sparkling eyes. “Oh, come on. As if you wouldn’t want to choke on my mouth.”
“Only in the bedroom,” Mira teased, smirking, sending a shiver down Zoey´s spine.
They disentangled themselves with soft laughter and playful nudges.
“Alright, now it’s Mira’s turn,” Zoey said, reaching for the next present.
Mira moved to a flat, square-shaped package, lifting it carefully. “This is definitely a painting,” she murmured, glancing at Rumi. She unwrapped it slowly, as though revealing a treasure too delicate for the world.
Inside was a breathtaking painting of the three of them, nestled beneath a tree on a hill at sunset, overlooking a serene valley. Their painted selves sat close together, leaning on one another, sharing a quiet, intimate moment in perfect harmony. Mira’s eyes glistened as she admired it, a tear slipping down her cheek despite her best effort to remain composed.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered. “If my room ever catches fire, I will literally fight to save this painting.”
Zoey squeezed her hand gently. “Now it’s Rumi’s turn.”
Rumi sifted through the pile, deliberate and thoughtful, before settling on a tall, crinkly bag. She carefully unwrapped it to reveal a pair of delicate lotus flowers in soft lavender, blooming under translucent wrapping.
“Awww, thank you,” she murmured, her eyes soft. “These will make a perfect addition to my collection.”
They opened gifts slowly, savoring each one, lingering over small details and sentimental notes tucked beneath ribbons. Sometimes they drifted into stories — why they chose a particular gift, the little moments they remembered while wrapping it, memories from the past year that made them laugh. Other times, they simply sat close, knees brushing, hands finding one another without needing to speak.
By the time the last gift was opened, the room had grown quiet, peaceful in a way that felt sacred. A comfortable silence settled around them, filled only with warmth, love, and the soft twinkling of the Christmas lights reflecting in their eyes. The glow painted the room in gentle golds and reds, turning the moment into something that felt almost suspended in time.
Zoey finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying the weight of her heart. “I… I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before. Not ever. You two… you make everything perfect.”
Mira’s gaze softened immediately, warmth pooling in her eyes. Rumi’s patterns pulsed with slow, steady light, like a gentle heartbeat. The two of them exchanged a glance, one full of shared understanding and love, before smiles tugged at both their lips.
Without a word, they leaned in together.
Arms wrapped around Zoey from both sides, holding her close, surrounding her in a hug that was equal parts tenderness, security, and unspoken devotion. Zoey let out a small laugh as she melted into them, burying her face in their shoulders. There they were: three hearts pressed together, wrapped in a cocoon of love, laughter, and the quiet, shimmering magic of Christmas.
Eventually, though, Zoey shifted just enough to peek up at them, a spark already forming behind her affectionate daze.
“Alright,” Zoey said softly, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “I’ve got about two hours before I need to head to the airport.” She glanced slowly between Rumi and Mira, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes. “So… I think I’ll spend that time unwrapping my last two presents.”
Both women froze, a deep flush creeping across their cheeks. Rumi’s patterns flared brilliantly, bright enough to put her Christmas tree performance to shame, and Zoey couldn’t help but laugh, the sound low and teasing.
She slipped her hands into theirs and gently tugged them down the hallway. The soft crunch of Christmas wrapping paper under their feet echoed in the quiet house, punctuating the intimacy of the moment.
“This is definitely getting you on the naughty list,” Rumi called from behind her, her voice halfway between laughter and exasperation.
Zoey turned her head over her shoulder, drinking in the sight of the two people she loved most in the world. Mira’s brow quirked in mild disapproval, but her lips tugged into a subtle, affectionate smile. Rumi’s patterns pulsed like a heartbeat, illuminating her soft features.
Was this heaven? Did she die and somehow land in some perfect paradise? Her grin widened into something wicked, a thrill running through her as she leaned closer, humming the tune of “How It’s Done“ under her breath.
“Body on body, I’m naughty, not even sorry,” she sang softly, her voice teasing.
“Zoey,” Mira said, stepping closer, “you’re going to make me lose my mind if you keep smirking like that.”
Zoey only laughed again, low and warm. “Oh? That’s the point, isn’t it?”
When they reached her room, Zoey released their hands just long enough to nudge them inside with a gentle push, firm but playful, before slipping in after them. She let the door click softly into place, the lock sliding home with a definitive, intimate click.
“Locked in,” Zoey murmured, turning to face them, her grin softening as her eyes swept over them. “Now… let’s see these presents, shall we?”
She reached for their hands again, guiding them towards her bed.
Rumi sat down on the edge, still catching her breath from Zoey’s teasing, while Mira eased back onto her hands, trying not to smile too widely as she joined her. Zoey’s presence, electric and affectionate, seemed to wrap the entire room in warmth.
“This is ridiculous,” Rumi whispered, a mixture of laughter and awe in her voice. “How are you always like this?”
“Like what?” Zoey tilted her head, eyes sparkling with delight.
“Like… completely irresistible,” Rumi admitted softly, the words carrying the weight of her feelings while Mira let out a low laugh and shook her head, amused but touched.
Zoey grinned, stepping closer, bridging the small distance between them as she leaned down. “Because it‘s part of who I am,“ she said with a smile. She then leaned in even closer between the two of them, her breath hot against their ears. “I have two hours, and I intend to make every second count.”