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The living room looked like Christmas had exploded, but in the best way possible.
The tree stood tall and glowing in the corner, every branch heavy with ornaments. Handmade paper stars, glittery baubles, tiny figurines that somehow survived toddlers, and a crooked angel perched on top that leaned slightly to the left. Warm lights wrapped around it all, casting a soft golden glow over the mountain of presents underneath.
And right now, that mountain was being attacked.
“THIS ONE'S MINE!” Yongbok announced, already halfway through tearing the wrapping paper, her small hands fierce and determined.
Chan sat cross-legged beside her, careful and precise, peeling the tape slowly. “Bokkie, you’re supposed to open it nicely,” he said, even though his eyes were shining just as brightly.
Hyejin didn’t wait for permission. She dove straight into the pile, grabbed a box that was nearly her size, and dragged it toward herself.
“Mine,” she declared, hugging it possessively.
Jihan toddled after her, determined not to be left out, and immediately sat on the corner of a gift twice his size. He patted it proudly, as if claiming it by sheer will.
Changbin lounged a little farther back, legs stretched out, watching the chaos with an amused smile, but the moment Jeongin shoved a wrapped box into his lap, all composure was gone.
“Open it,” she urged, grinning. “You’re being boring.”
He rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “I was just savoring the moment.”
“Open it or I will,” she threatened.
That was enough.
Paper tore.
Gasps followed.
Yongbok squealed first. “IT’S A DOLLHOUSE,” she screamed, jumping up and down so hard the box nearly tipped over. “The pink one! The big one! With tiny beds!”
Chan’s mouth fell open as he lifted his own lid. Inside sat a brand-new keyboard, sleek, black, and very real.
He froze for a second. “Oh,” he whispered, like he didn’t quite trust the moment yet.
Hyejin had already climbed halfway into her box. “DINOSAUUU,” she announced loudly, holding up a green plush almost as big as her body. “BIG.”
Jihan copied her immediately, holding up a much smaller plush and yelling, “BIG,” even though it was very clearly not.
Changbin let out a low laugh as he opened his gift, new boxing gear, exactly the kind he’d been eyeing but never said out loud. He turned it over in his hands, impressed. “They remembered,” he murmured.
Jeongin unwrapped hers more slowly, fingers tracing the edges first. Inside was headphones, custom design and beautiful, along with a set of sketchbooks and professional pencils. She smiled softly, hugging it to her chest for a brief moment before anyone could tease her about it.
Then... more gifts.
Because apparently one was never enough.
“Another one?” Chan asked, blinking as Yongbok shoved a second present toward him.
“Everyone has more,” she said very seriously, as if this was simply the rule of Christmas.
Boxes kept opening. A new puzzle. Clothes in favorite colors. Toys that made noise. Books with shiny covers. Little notes tucked inside some of them, written in familiar handwriting.
One card slipped out and landed near the base of the tree.
Jeongin picked it up, reading aloud, “To our tiny chaos makers. Be good. Or don’t. Love, Grandpapa & Grandmama.”
“Oh,” Changbin said knowingly. “So that’s why this feels a lot.”
Yongbok beamed. “Grandpapa loves me the most.”
“No, me,” Hyejin argued immediately.
Jihan clapped, deciding this was the best argument he’d ever heard.
And a little away from the chaos of wrapping paper and squeals of joy, the adults had claimed the couch.
Hyunjin sat curled beside Jisung, her legs tucked under her, his arm resting easy along the backrest behind her shoulders. Across from them, Seungmin leaned back with the air of someone who had survived the morning on sheer caffeine, Minhee tucked comfortably against his side, her attention half on the kids and half on the gifts.
For a moment, none of them spoke. They just watched.
Chan held up something shiny and immediately launched into an explanation no one had asked for. Hyejin and Jihan were surrounded by boxes, their laughter coming in bursts. Yongbok had climbed halfway into Changbin’s lap to show him something, and Jeongin sat cross-legged near the tree, smiling fondly at all of it.
Minhee sighed, long and satisfied, then tilted her head toward Seungmin.
“So,” she said casually, eyes still on the kids, “where’s my Christmas gift?”
Seungmin didn’t even blink. He simply shrugged. “What Christmas gift?”
Minhee slowly turned to him. “Excuse me?”
Hyunjin, who had been suspiciously quiet, smiled. Not a teasing smile, something softer. Knowing. She reached down beside the couch and pulled out a neatly wrapped box, red paper, gold ribbon, perfect corners.
“It’s not from him,” Hyunjin said gently, handing it over. “It’s from me.”
Minhee’s eyes widened, and Seungmin chuckled under his breath.
Minhee took the box like it was something fragile, reverent even. “Oh my god,” she whispered, already smiling. “I love lady secret Santa.”
She peeled the paper carefully, far more carefully than the kids had, and lifted the lid. For a second, she just stared.
Inside were hairpins. Not just one or two, but many. Different shapes, different designs, some delicate, some bold. Gold, silver, soft pastels, tiny gemstones catching the light. All elegant. All unmistakably Minhee.
Her breath caught. “Hyunjin…”
“I remembered you saying you always lose them. And that you like having options depending on your mood.” Hyunjin leaned closer, her voice soft.
“They’re-” Minhee picked one up, turning it between her fingers. “These are custom.”
Seungmin leaned forward now, peering into the box.
Hyunjin nodded, a little shy now. “Yeah. I… might’ve gone a bit overboard.”
“This isn’t overboard. This is perfect.” Minhee laughed, the sound bright and breathless, eyes shining as she looked from the pins to Hyunjin and back again. She reached out suddenly and hugged Hyunjin tight. “You get me.”
Hyunjin hugged her back just as firmly. “Of course I do.”
Jisung smiled at the sight, warm and proud, while Seungmin shook his head with a fond scoff. “Great. Now how do I compete with that?”
Minhee pulled back, still smiling as she carefully closed the box and held it to her chest. “You don’t,” she said sweetly. “You just live with the fact that your sister-in-law has better taste than you.”
Seungmin snorted. “Rude.”
He was half-sulking, arms loosely crossed, pretending he wasn’t watching Minhee turn every single hairpin over like it was a priceless artifact. She kept gasping softly, arranging them on her palm, already planning outfits in her head. Hyunjin laughed quietly, clearly pleased with herself.
“Okay,” Jisung said after a moment, nudging Seungmin’s knee with his feet. “Don’t pout. It’s our turn.”
Seungmin looked up, suspicious. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to,” Jisung replied easily, already reaching under the table beside the couch. He pulled out a much smaller box compared to Minhee’s, simple, neat, almost deceptively plain, and placed it in his brother's hands.
Seungmin frowned at it. “Why is mine tiny?” he muttered, giving Jisung a look that suggested betrayal.
“Open it,” Hyunjin urged as she rolled her eyes, leaning forward, clearly enjoying this.
Seungmin hesitated, then slid the lid off. For a second, his brain didn’t quite register what he was seeing.
Then his breath caught.
Inside the box lay a phone. Sleek, new, unmistakably expensive. The kind you didn’t just stumble upon. The design was minimal and rare, the sort that wasn’t easily available in regular stores.
Seungmin stared. Blinked. Then stared again. “No… no way,” he said softly, lifting it like it might vanish if he moved too fast. “This is- no. This is that phone.”
Jisung smiled, relaxed and fond. “Mmhm.”
Seungmin slowly turned his head. “How did you even-”
“Connections.” Jisung shrugged, completely casual.
Hyunjin snorted into her hand. Minhee laughed outright, finally setting her hairpins aside to look at Seungmin’s stunned expression.
“You like it?” Jisung asked, already knowing the answer.
Seungmin swallowed, thumb brushing over the screen like he was afraid to smudge it. “Like it?” He looked back up, eyes wide. “Sung, my brother, my beloved brother, this is ridiculously expensive!”
“And?” Jisung replied, smiling softly. “It’s Christmas.”
Seungmin shook his head, disbelief giving way to a smile he couldn’t hold back. “You’re insane.”
“But you’re smiling,” Minhee teased.
He was. Wide, unguarded, boyishly happy. He leaned over without thinking and pulled Jisung into a quick hug, mumbling a thank you against his shoulder.
Jisung patted his back, warm and familiar. “Merry Christmas.”
Before Seungmin can say anything, Minhee slid a box across the table toward Jisung.
It was… tiny.
Suspiciously tiny.
Jisung stared at it for a second, then looked up at Minhee with exaggerated amusement. Hyunjin laughed softly beside him, already guessing what's inside.
Minhee crossed her arms, chin lifted. “Open it before judging. Don’t embarrass yourself on Christmas.” Said the woman and she leaned back, smirking.
Jisung picked it up, carefully lifting the lid.
Inside, neatly arranged on soft velvet, were guitar pins.
Not ordinary ones.
They were customized, tiny, intricate designs shaped like guitars in different styles, each one hand-painted. One had Jisung’s favorite color subtly worked into the strings. Another had a tiny engraving on the back. One even looked worn-in on purpose, like it carried stories already.
Jisung froze.
The teasing expression melted off his face instantly. “Oh,” he breathed, lifting one carefully between his fingers.
Minhee watched him closely, a small proud smile forming. “We figured... our family pride. Our musician, you carry your guitar everywhere. Even when you don’t play it, it’s still you.”
Seungmin nodded. “And you’re annoyingly sentimental about details.”
Jisung let out a soft laugh. Warm, a little stunned. “I’m not-” He stopped himself, then shook his head, smiling wide. “Okay, I am. This is- this is perfect.”
Hyunjin leaned closer, peeking at the pins. “They’re beautiful,” she said honestly, eyes soft as she looked at him instead of the gift.
Jisung carefully placed the box back on the table, as if it were fragile in a way money could never buy. “I love it,” he said, voice sincere. “I really, really love it.”
Minhee clapped once, delighted. “Good. Because I spent weeks deciding.”
Seungmin snorted. “She was unbearable.”
Jisung laughed, shaking his head, still smiling down at the tiny box. Hyunjin is still smiling, curled comfortably beside Jisung, when Seungmin suddenly clears his throat.
“Actually,” he says, a little too casually, reaching behind the couch. “There’s one from me. To my best friend.”
Jisung turns first, as Seungmin pulls out a box.
Not small. Not subtle. A big box.
All three of them freeze.
“That’s not funny,” Jisung says slowly. “Who is that for.”
Seungmin ignores him and holds it out to Hyunjin. “Merry Christmas.”
Hyunjin stares at it like it might bite. “For me?”
“For you.”
She takes it carefully, setting it on her lap. The room goes silent. Jisung’s already suspicious, arms crossing as he watches Seungmin like a hawk.
Hyunjin opens the box.
Inside isn’t jewelry. Or something shiny. Or anything expensive-looking at all.
Art supplies.
A lot of them.
Sketchbooks stacked neatly. Different kinds of paper. Charcoal, pencils, brushes, paints, acrylics, watercolors, little labeled compartments, carefully chosen. Things that look good. Not flashy, not loud. Just thoughtful.
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything.
Her hands stop moving.
Her smile dropped. Just for a second.
Jisung’s heart drops.
“Oh,” he starts quickly, already panicking. “Hyunjin, Honey, my love, if you don’t like it, it’s okay, I can- I’ll get you something else, something better, we can go out tomorrow, I know a place, I’ll buy whatever you-”
“Sung.” Hyunjin’s voice cuts through him, sharp and breathless. She looks up, her eyes shining. “Do you know,” she says, voice climbing with excitement, “that I once- once told Min that I wanted exactly this kind of set?”
Jisung's mouth falls open.
“Not expensive,” Hyunjin continues, gesturing wildly at the box. “Just… everything I actually use. But even better brands. Everything I always end up searching for. I said it one time. Just once.”
Jisung turns slowly to Seungmin.
Hyunjin doesn’t let him finish. She launches herself forward and hugs Seungmin tightly, arms around his shoulders.
“I love this,” she says, muffled into his sweater. “I love this.”
Seungmin grins, smug and cool, patting her back. “I don’t miss details.”
Jisung just stares, stunned, before finally exhaling in relief so hard it’s almost dramatic.
“I thought you hated it,” he mutters.
Hyunjin pulls back, still smiling wide. “Are you kidding? This is perfect.”
Seungmin leans back, crossing his arms. “Hyun’s my best friend. Of course I got it right.”
Jisung scoffs. “Don’t get cocky.”
But he nudges Seungmin’s shoulder anyway, soft, grateful, fond.
The kids were still gathered near the tree, wrapping paper everywhere, boxes half-opened, laughter spilling out in bursts as Yongbok proudly showed off the same toy for the third time, Chan quietly lining up his gifts with careful precision, the twins half-asleep but refusing to leave the glow of the lights, and Changbin and Jeongin sitting shoulder to shoulder, comparing gifts like it was a competition only they understood.
On the couch, the adults had naturally gravitated closer without realizing it. Hyunjin leaned into Jisung, her new art supplies already mentally catalogued, his arm warm and familiar around her shoulders.
Seungmin and Minhee opposite to them, the woman absentmindedly playing with one of her new hairpins while Seungmin pretended not to notice how proud he looked.
It wasn’t loud anymore, just soft voices, shared smiles, and the quiet comfort of being exactly where they were meant to be.
Outside, beyond the fogged-up windows, tiny flakes of snow began to fall. Inside, the Christmas lights blinked steadily, the tree stood full and bright, and the house breathed with warmth, of love, of family, and of a moment that would stay with them long after the snow melted.
It was a perfect Christmas.