Archive of Our Own ^beta

DAY 1

Seonghyeon doesn’t know how he got here.

He woke up freezing. Not the normal kind of cold—the kind that sinks into his bones, gnaws at his fingers, creeps up his spine until his teeth start chattering uncontrollably. Snow presses against his cheek when he shifts, powdery and bright, blindingly white no matter where he looks.

It’s just snow. Seonghyeon is starting to think that beyond all this stretch of snow is probably just more and more snow.

But he is sure of one thing, and it’s that this isn’t Seoul.

Seoul’s snowstorm isn’t even as harsh as this.

Seonghyeon trembles, trying to heat himself up by blowing on his hands. Heck, he’s not even properly dressed for the weather. He remembers reaching home after a long day of hanging out with his friends, playing in the snow and building snowmen. He remembers collapsing onto his bed after changing into warm clothes. He doesn’t remember anything beyond that.

So, this is probably— no, definitely, a dream.

He sucks in a deep breath, shivering from head to toe. The cold bites at his fingertips, and the cold sinks deeper, seeps into bone and thought alike. Seonghyeon looks around again as if something will just magically pop up to grant him warmth. His surroundings are vast and endless, white stretching in every direction possible, the sky above dark despite the hour.

Actually, he doesn’t even know if it’s the morning or the afternoon or the night. Who is he to talk?

Seonghyeon groans, and continues to walk with shaking limbs. He hasn’t tracked how long he’s been walking, but it already feels like forever. How on earth did he get here, anyway? One moment, he had been resting on his bed, and then—

White. So much white. He won’t even be surprised if he’s in heaven right now.

His boots (he has no idea how he got these) sink into snow with every step, legs growing heavier, vision blurring at the edges. The wind howls loudly around him, almost mournful, raged, brushing past his ears. Seonghyeon opens his mouth to make a sound, but his voice comes out hoarse, swallowed immediately by the air.

Isn’t this what people experience if they get stranded in a desert for too long? Except Seonghyeon is experiencing the exact opposite because somehow he decided to keep trekking despite having no idea where he is.

And at this point, he’s considering giving up because it looks like there's no end to this endless stretch of snow.

Seonghyeon continues to walk, his steps growing sluggish, his legs trembling with every move. His breaths begin to come out shaky, the cold overcoming him like a second body. Heart thumping in his chest, he takes one last step—

And his knees give out.

The world tilts on it’s axis, and Seonghyeon collapses forward into the snow. Face planted into cold stillness. It’s soft, at least. He has no idea how the snow is soft but he has no more energy to care. The cold seeps through his thin clothes (again, he has no idea where he got these clothes from) instantly, sharp and unforgiving. He tries to push himself up with trembling arms, but his body refuses to listen and work.

Seonghyeon’s eyelids flutter.

He plops himself down, the rapid fall of snow burying him into the snow on the ground.

I’ll just… rest for a second, he thinks dimly. His eyes shut close, and everything turns mute. All Seonghyeon can feel is cold and helplessness.

His world momentarily goes dark for a minute when a bell suddenly rings somewhere nearby.

Seonghyeon jerks, trying to get his eyes to open but fails to do so. Instead, he stretches out his ears to pick up that jingling noise. 

He hears several bells. Light, chiming sounds, layered with hurried voices (what the hell?) and the rhythmic crunch of many boots against snow. Seonghyeon feels himself tremble again as the fall of snow builds up, and his lips quiver at the extreme cold seeping into his bones.

He hears multiple shrieks.

“—over there!”

“There is something in the snow!”

“Is that— oh, by Santa’s beard, that is a human!”

Then, he feels warm hands grip his shoulders, rolling him gently onto his back. The sudden brightness above him makes him squint— lantern light, golden and soft, haloed by drifting snowflakes in the strong cold wind.

Seonghyeon manages to get his eyes open just a little, and he can’t believe what he sees.

A-Are those pointed ears…?

His eyes catch the red and green fabrics the little humans are wearing, then the too many faces peering down at him, panic and disbelief etched into every expression. 

What the fuck is going on?

“He is freezing!”

“Hurry, hurry! We must get him inside now— someone, fetch blankets!”

Seonghyeon tries to speak, but his teeth are chattering too hard and his lips are quivering too much. His vision swims as he’s lifted (how strong are these things?), careful arms cradling him like he’s made of glass, vulnerable and fragile. The cold begins to fade, replaced by warmth— layers and layers of it, thick wool and fur and bells jingling faintly in the air.

He feels himself being carried by multiple hands on him at once for a few long minutes before he hears the sound of doors being swung open. 

And suddenly, there is light.

Seonghyeon looks around with half-opened eyes as he is brought in. The interior of the building is enormous, ceilings arching high above, gears turning slowly along the walls, conveyor belts of half-wrapped presents gliding past in various different sizes. The air smells like pine, sugar, and something warm and comforting like the feeling of drinking hot chocolate.

He’s set down on a bench near a roaring fire, and before he knows it, blankets are being draped over him and a mug is pressed into his hands, steam curling upward. The warmth brings bliss to his freezing body, which is starting to heat up tremendously thanks to the blazing fire and the heat from the drink in his hands. The warmth is overwhelming— his fingers tingle as circulation returns, his head still foggy.

“Easy, easy,” a voice murmurs beside him. “Drink slowly, human.”

As warmth settles into his fingers, Seonghyeon finally manages to open his eyes properly. 

He blinks.

Stares.

His mouth falls open as he takes in the pointed ears and glowing eyes.

Are these elves??

Short, tall, round, thin— each one staring back at him with equal parts concern and burning curiosity. Some are whispering to each other in the back, some scrutinize him from head to toe, while others bring more blankets and even more mugs of what he assumes to be hot chocolate.

The commotion eventually dies down when Seonghyeon opens his mouth, trying to say something.

“I think… I’m hallucinating,” Seonghyeon croaks.

A ripple of laughter breaks the high tension in the room.

“Nope, you aren’t,” a tall elf comes forward, chirping cheerfully, setting another fluff of blanket at Seonghyeon’s feet. Seonghyeon catches the name Martin on his name tag pinned on his uniform. “You are very real.” His tone grows sombre. “Unfortunately.”

Unfortunately?

Seonghyeon frowns. “What do you mean?”

Another elf clears their throat. This one doesn’t have a name tag, though. “Well, human, for starters, you shouldn’t be here.”

“That’s obvious, you dimwit,” an elf says from beside him.

“Hey, I’m just letting him know!”

“By the bells, quit arguing in front of a stranger, you two!” A round elf chides them, and Seonghyeon just takes it all in, amused and mesmerized.

The tall elf, Martin, just sighs and turns back to him, wearing a sheepish smile. He kind of reminds him of someone he knows back home, but Seonghyeon doesn’t think much about it. He’ll start to feel homesick if he does.

“Do you know where you are right now, human?”

Seonghyeon shakes his head. “I didn’t before this, not really. But considering you’re all elves and there’s presents lying everywhere, I’m assuming we’re in Santa’s Workshop at the North Pole?”

The elves blink in surprise, clearly not expecting his response. Seonghyeon raises an eyebrow, wondering what is so surprising. The surprise doesn’t last long, of course, and a few elves start to exchange glances, some impressed, some wary. One of them lets out a low whistle, followed by a yelp as they get punched on the head.

“Well, that saves us the trouble of explaining,” Martin laughs quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Most of the time when humans actually come here, they panic. Or scream. Or faint again.”

“I mean, I technically fainted just now…” Seonghyeon points out weakly, lifting the mug closer to his lips. He takes a careful sip, and wow it is hot chocolate. Thick, sweet, and richer than any hot chocolate he’s ever tasted in his life. It makes his heart ache in a strange, pleasant way.

Martin hums. “Fair enough.”

The warmth continues to seep into Seonghyeon’s bones, and with it comes the creeping awareness of how he must look—wrapped in blankets like a cocoon, hair still dusted with melted snow, borrowed christmas socks someone has apparently put on him at some point. His embarrassment arrives just a second too late.

“So, uh,” Seonghyeon says slowly, choosing his words carefully. “If this is really the North Pole… how did I get here?”

The elves stiffen at his question.

And then, panic immediately sets in.

Their voices overlap, hushed but frantic and Seonghyeon swears he can hear some swear words in their native elf language or something.

“A human can’t just appear during this time—”

“Did someone leave the gate open again?”

“Oh, by the bells, what if Santa finds out about this—”

“Everyone, quiet!” Martin claps his hands once, sharp and practiced. The room settles almost immediately, then his strict expression switches to apologetic and gentle when he turns back to Seonghyeon. And fuck, Martin the elf actually reminds him of someone. He doesn’t know who, his memories seem foggy, but he knows the elf reminds him of a dear friend he has. “That’s… what we’re trying to figure out.”

Seonghyeon swallows. “I don’t remember anything… I was just—”

Reaching home. Taking a warm shower. Changing into comfortable clothes. Collapsing into his bed. His vision turning dark—

“I don’t know,” he finishes softly.

Martin studies him for a long time, then sighs. “Well, either way, this is a problem.”

Seonghyeon lets out a small, humourless laugh. “Yeah, I figured,” he falters, before speaking up again, uncertain. “Is it… a really major issue? A human like me in the North Pole?”

“Oh, we don't actually know the consequences of a human staying in the North Pole,” Martin says, crossing his arms, thinking. “Santa Claus, you know him?” He grins when Seonghyeon laughs, nodding. “Yeah, he tells every elf here that humans aren’t supposed to enter the North Pole. That’s why when a human accidentally stumbles upon here, we send them home straight away.”

“And how do you do that?” 

“We give them a ride back home. On the sleigh. Usually, Santa is tasked to do that because he’s the only person who is ever allowed to go beyond the North Pole.”

Seonghyeon blinks. “That sounds rational.”

“Yup, but in your case…” Martin suddenly frowns, his expression turning pained. “I don’t think we can send you home right away.”

That catches him off guard.

“What? Why not?” Seonghyeon asks, alert. 

“It’s not anything remotely bad, don’t worry!” Martin immediately says, soothing a bit of his worry. “It’s just… It’s Christmas season now. And as you know, we elves are tasked to prepare gifts for people all around the world.”

Seonghyeon nods, unsure where this is going.

“The gifts we prepare are a lot, and Santa has been quite busy. We rarely see him nowadays, but since you’re a special case, James can schedule a meeting for you to see him.”

“Who’s James?”

“Assistant Head Elf!” Martin says proudly.

Seonghyeon pieces the dots together.

“So, are you the Head Elf?”

“Yeah,” Martin nods, grinning yet sheepish. His face turns a little red, and Seonghyeon doesn’t know why his heart aches. Why does this elf remind him so much of someone? “You’re a smart human.”

“All the humans you’ve encountered before aren’t smart?” Seonghyeon laughs.

“I didn’t say anything,” Martin chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “What’s your name, then? I’m Martin the Elf.”

Seonghyeon doesn’t have the heart to tell him he knew his name already. “Seonghyeon the Human,” he answers, mimicking the elf.

Martin laughs, and he lets the name roll off his tongue. “Seonghyeon. Alright, nice name. Anyway, Christmas is in three days. If James manages to arrange a meeting with Santa, we’ll let you know as soon as possible how you’re going to get home.”

“Alright, that’s fair. I don’t want to rush anyone to bring me home either.” Seonghyeon nods. “But then—”

Before he can continue, a sudden crash echoes from somewhere deeper in the workshop, followed by an indignant snort and the unmistakable sound of hooves skidding against stone. 

“Oh no,” someone groans.

“The reindeers,” another elf says. “They can smell him. The human.”

Seonghyeon gapes. They can do what? He barely has time to process that before the doors at the far end of the hall swing open again—this time with far less ceremony.

A rush of cold air sweeps in, along with snowflakes coating the floor and jingling harnesses. Curious heads poke in through the doorway: soft brown eyes, velvety noses, antlers brushing the frame as the reindeers crowd closer, sniffing eagerly.

Seonghyeon stiffens. “Uh—”

But it’s too late.

The nearest reindeer lets out a happy huff and steps forward, nudging at Seonghyeon’s blankets with it’s nose. Another follows, then another, until suddenly the personal space he barely had is completely gone. Never in his life did he ever imagine he would be surrounded by reindeers, moreover them sniffing him like he smells heavenly.

He definitely doesn’t, but he’ll give the reindeers the benefit of doubt. Animals just like to sniff humans, reindeers are no different. No need to panic, Seonghyeon. No need to panic at all.

“Hey—hey, careful!” An elf calls, scrambling forward.

That’s when Seonghyeon sees him.

He’s standing just beyond the doorway, half-hidden behind a reindeer’s flank. Snow clings to his boots and the hem of his uniform, curls of dark hair peeking out from beneath a fur-lined cap. His ears are pointed like the others’, but there’s something softer about this elf. Seonghyeon thinks he looks around his age, but he knows for a fact elves look younger than they actually are, so he’s not going to assume.

His eyes meet Seonghyeon’s.

And then, they widen. Comically large.

“Oh,” the elf breathes, barely audible over the noise. “He’s actually real.”

Something about the way he says it makes Seonghyeon’s chest tighten. He tries to source out a name, but the elf isn’t wearing a name tag. That’s strange. Do only higher-up elves wear name tags to help differentiate themselves from the rest? He’ll ask Martin later.

“Keonho,” Martin calls, relief lacing his voice. “Perfect timing. Can you get the reindeers settled?”

Oh, so his name is Keonho.

Keonho jolts, remembering where he is. “Y-yeah! Yes. Of course.”

He moves quickly, gently guiding the reindeer back with practiced murmurs and soft pats. They listen to him immediately, though one of them stubbornly circles back just to lick Seonghyeon’s cheek. He yelps, startled— and then laughs, the sound surprised and real. Then, he sees Keonho freeze for a second, and for a split second, all he does is stare blatantly at him.

Then, right after, his ears turn bright red.

“Sorry,” he blurts out, not even looking at Seonghyeon as he shoos the reindeers away again. “They—uhm. They like humans. And new things, I guess. Probably.”

“That’s okay,” Seonghyeon says, still smiling despite himself. “I think I like them too.”

Keonho meets his eyes again one more time, face burning red, cheeks aflamed. Seonghyeon almost stands up to go hug him, because shit, why does every elf he knows the name of here in Santa’s Workshop remind him of his friends back home?

It’s a shame his memories are foggy and he can’t remember anyone’s faces or names. But he knows that Keonho makes him feel warm and comfortable, somehow.

The reindeers are eventually coaxed out, hooves clopping reluctantly as the doors are shut once more. The workshop settles back into it’s usual hum—gears turning, bells chiming faintly, elves murmuring to one another as if nothing out of the ordinary has just happened.

Seonghyeon exhales a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“Well,” Martin says, clapping his hands once, brisk and bright. “That could’ve gone worse.”

“Could it?” Another elf mutters.

“Yes,” Martin replies without missing a beat. “At least no one got trampled.”

Seonghyeon snorts before he can stop himself, then clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening. “Sorry.”

A few elves chuckle. Even Martin smiles down at him, warm and reassuring.

“You’re doing great, considering,” Martin says, gesturing to the place where the reindeers were previously at. “Most of the reindeers don’t really warm up to humans a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Did you see how one of them licked you? They don’t do that with just anyone, much less humans.”

“I guess I’m just better,” Seonghyeon grins, which barks out a laugh from Martin. 

Then, the blankets are finally peeled away, one by one, leaving Seonghyeon feeling lighter. His legs wobble a little when he stands, but before he can fully lose his balance, hands catch his elbows.

“Careful,” Keonho says quickly.

His voice is even softer up close, quieter. Seonghyeon’s heart skips a beat.

“I’ve got you,” he adds, then seems to realise what he’s said and stiffens. “I mean. You can lean on me. If you want, that is! Just until—”

“It’s okay,” Seonghyeon says gently, steadying himself. “Thank you.”

Keonho nods a bit too fast and lets go immediately, retreating half a step back as if burned. Seonghyeon sends him a reassuring smile, and he swears Keonho’s eyes widen a fraction and his cheeks redden a shade. Martin watches them with something unreadable in his eyes, he doesn’t know what.

“Well,” he says eventually, clearing his throat. “Now that you’re conscious and no longer at risk of becoming a human popsicle, we should talk about what happens next.”

Seonghyeon straightens. “That was what I was going to ask. What am I going to do here for the—” he glances at the convenient calendar hung on the wall, the number 22 written in bold. “ —next three days?”

Martin brightens again.

“Well, you can’t just sit around. Humans aren’t supposed to be here, but since you are—”

“You might as well be useful,” someone says helpfully.

Martin shoots them a look. “ —you might as well help,” he corrects.

Seonghyeon blinks. “Help? With what?”

“With gift wrapping,” Martin says, snapping his fingers. “You’ve got hands, don’t you?”

“I— yeah?”

“Perfect. Come along, then. The elves in charge can guide you.”

By the time Martin finishes talking, the crowd of elves surrounding them disperse, some moving in pairs or groups as they leave the area or return to their working stations. Seonghyeon looks around inside Santa’s Workshop again, surprised by how big it actually is. He doesn’t want to imagine how large the entire workshop is if the gift wrapping room is this big.

He hesitates, glancing back one.

Keonho is still there.

Hovering awkwardly near the roaring fire, hands clasped in front of him, ears still faintly pink. When their eyes meet again, Keonho startles like he’s been caught staring—which he absolutely has. Seonghyeon raises an eyebrow. Does he have something on his face?

“Oh— uh,” Keonho says, shy. “I— good luck?”

Seonghyeon smiles, small but genuine. “Thanks, Keonho. Are you the one who takes care of the reindeers?”

Keonho blinks at the unexpected question. “Uh, yes.”

He pauses, choosing his words. “...Take care of them well.” 

Eom Seonghyeon, you are so fucking awkward.

The elf laughs before he can stop himself, the sound soft and surprised. Seonghyeon looks at him, really looks at him, enjoying the way Keonho’s eyes immediately fill with warmth.

“I’ll— yeah. I’ll try.”

Martin watches the both of them, staying quiet, before he nudges Keonho in the shoulder.

“Keonho, you’ll be free later tonight, yes?”

Keonho stiffens. “Ah— yes?”

“Good. You’re on reindeer duty with the human after wrapping lessons.”

Seonghyeon’s head snaps to Martin. “Wait, what?”

Keonho’s ears go red again, and he glares at Martin who has a big smug smirk on his face. Seonghyeon watches on, curious yet confused, as the two elves practically talk with their eyes. Can elves really read each other without saying anything? He didn’t know of this. Nobody talked about this in the books or fairytales.

“Okay, uh,” Keonho starts, then stops, swallowing. “I can teach you. The basics. If that’s okay.”

Seonghyeon looks between the two of them.

“Yeah.” He nods. “That’s fine with me.”

“Good,” Martin says, smiling. He ushers Seonghyeon to his feet, tugging him gently along by the sleeve. The blankets are no longer covering him, though Martin makes sure to leave one draped around him like a shawl. “I’ll give you warm clothes later.”

“Thank you…” Seonghyeon mutters, tugging the blanket tight around his shoulders. He spots Keonho staring at him, and wow, are his eyes sparkling? Must be an elf thing.

“Keonho, can you return to your station? We can meet up for a break later.” Martin’s words snap Keonho out of his trance, and Seonghyeon doesn’t miss the disappointed look on the elf’s face before it vanishes in the blink of an eye, replaced by a solemn nod.

“Sir, yes, sir.” Keonho rolls his eyes, and trudges out of the room, walking out into the snow where the reindeer shelters are. Martin shakes his head in disbelief.

“Don’t mind him. Come on, I’ll start you somewhere easy.”

They walk deeper into the workshop, away from the fire. The warmth fades only slightly, replaced by the steady hum of work— gears ticking, bells chiming softly, elves murmuring to one another as they move in practiced rhythm. Conveyor belts glide past them, carrying toys in various states of completion: wooden trains missing wheels, plush animals without sewed in eyes, boxes half-folded and waiting.

Martin stops in front of a long wooden table dusted with glitter and scraps of paper. Neatly stacked rolls of wrapping paper stand at one end, patterns ranging from classic red-and-green to shimmering gold constellations. Spools of ribbon hang from pegs along the walls like colourful vines. Seonghyeon looks around the place, captivated and stunned from how organized the workshop is, despite everyone being in full rotation as Christmas nears.

“Gift-wrapping,” Martin announces proudly, putting his hands on his hips. “The main event of Christmas.”

Seonghyeon stares at the table. Then back at Martin. “You’re trusting me with this?”

Martin laughs. “You’d be surprised how many elves mess this up their first year.”

That doesn’t reassure him at all.

Martin clears a space and places a small box in front of Seonghyeon—light, wooden, about the size of a paperback book. He sets a roll of paper beside it and slides a pair of scissors across the table.

“Rule number one,” Martin says, leaning his elbows on the table. “Measure twice, then cut once. Got it?”

“Elves give vague instructions all the time or what?” Seonghyeon says instead, and laughs when Martin flicks a paperclip toward his head. 

His hands still feel a little clumsy from the cold, but he takes his new task seriously, anyway. He has some experience with gift-wrapping, when he prepares gifts for his friends for special occasions, but not to this extreme. Elves must take their job seriously considering the neatly wrapped presents Seonghyeon spots stacked on top of another ready to be lifted onto the conveyor belt to be transported.

He’d be crazy to let elves think any less of him.

Seonghyeon rolls the box across the paper like Martin shows him, squinting as he tries to eyeball the right amount.

“Too much paper is better than too little,” Martin adds helpfully. “You can always trim excess. You can’t magically grow more, you know?”

“I feel like you can magically grow more,” Seonghyeon mutters under his breath.

Martin grins. “We’re magical, but we’re not that magical. Trust me.”

That earns a small laugh out of him, and he feels oddly safe in this workshop.

Seonghyeon cuts—crookedly, but passable—and folds the paper around the box. The corners, however, are a disaster. One side sticks out too far, the other crumples inward like it’s given up on life entirely. He stares at it, mortified.

“I swear I’ve wrapped gifts before.”

Martin throws his head back, laughing. His face turns red slightly, and Seonghyeon just stares. The sense of familiarity seeps in again, but this time it makes him frown. This elf definitely reminds him of someone, but the name is on the tip of his tongue, he can’t for the life of him remember who.

“I believe you. But have you wrapped thousands?” Martin says kindly, stepping in. He adjusts Seonghyeon’s hands, guiding his fingers. “Here. Tuck, then fold. Press flat here, like this.”

Their movements are slow, deliberate. The paper obeys this time, edges lining up neatly. Seonghyeon almost feels envious how Martin can just wrap gifts so perfectly in one go while he has to take half an hour trying to wrap one. But the dude’s an elf, so Seonghyeon feels like he has no room to talk.

“There,” Martin says. “See?”

Seonghyeon exhales, shoulders dropping. “Okay. That wasn’t so bad.”

They add a ribbon next. Martin shows him how to loop it cleanly, how to pull just tight enough without tearing the paper. Seonghyeon’s first bow is lopsided, one loop noticeably larger than the other. He grimaces, his hands growing clammy. Has he lost all ability to be coherent through his handiwork after coming here or what?

Seonghyeon quickly opens his mouth to apologise, but Martin waves it off casually.

“Come on, Seonghyeon. Children won’t care. Who knows, some of them might just prefer imperfect.”

That… settles something in his chest he didn’t realise was tight.

As Seonghyeon works on a second box, he becomes aware of movement beyond the tall arched windows lining the far wall. Snow drifts past the glass in lazy spirals. Further out, he can just make out the reindeer stables— shadows shifting around, antlers bobbing.

He looks toward the window, and there, moving between the reindeers, is Keonho.

He’s brushing down a reindeer’s flank, movements gentle and practiced, murmuring something Seonghyeon can’t hear. The animal leans into the touch, clearly content. Keonho laughs softly at something it does, head tipping back just slightly.

Seonghyeon’s chest does that thing again. Tightens. And it’s so, so warm.

He averts his eyes back down at the box before Martin can catch him staring. He has the feeling he’ll get teased for staring at an elf he’s not supposed to be staring at in the first place.

“This one’s for…” Martin checks the tag, whistling. “A kid in Finland. He likes astronomy.”

Seonghyeon carefully smooths the paper, choosing the gold constellation print without being told to. It just makes the most sense. He wraps it slower this time, more mindful, his fingers no longer shaking, growing more steady.

Outside, in his peripheral vision, he can see the reindeer snort softly.

Then, as Seonghyeon watches Keonho grin like the sun is breaking out of the clouds, he feels bells chime in his heart.

The bells in his heart don’t stop chiming even after he finishes the second box.

Then the third.

And so on.

Time moves strangely in the workshop, or the North Pole, to be exact. There are no clocks to tell him whether it’s morning or night— just the steady glow of lanterns and fairy lights strung along beams, the constant snowfall beyond the windows like a looping daydream. Seonghyeon loses track of how many gifts he wraps. His fingers ache faintly, but it’s the pleasant kind, the kind that tells him he’s doing something worth his time and he’s actually achieved completing things.

Martin hums as they work, an old tune Seonghyeon doesn’t recognise. Occasionally, another elf wanders by to drop off a box or retrieve a finished present, and it’s always the same elf. He offers Seonghyeon curious glances and soft smiles, acknowledging him. And it occurs to him that no one here looks at him like he doesn’t belong. Even if he’s counted as an anomaly in their home. 

If anything, they look… amused. Fond.

“Juhoon-ah,” Martin suddenly calls out when the same elf drops by for the tenth time that hour, piquing Seonghyeon’s interest after robotically wrapping presents for so long. 

The elf pauses mid-step, arms full of neatly stacked boxes. He looks about Seonghyeon’s age too, with hair pulled back into a low tie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Yes?” Juhoon answers, tilting his head.

“If you’re going to keep circling us like that, you might as well help.”

Juhoon laughs, unabashed. “I was just curious.” His eyes flick to Seonghyeon, warm and bright. “We don’t get humans very often.”

“None of us do,” Martin replies playfully, but there’s no bite in it. He gestures to the empty space beside Seonghyeon. “Sit. He’s learning fast, look.”

Juhoon does, setting the boxes aside. “You’re doing well,” he tells Seonghyeon as he ties a ribbon with quick, practised fingers. “Better than most first-years.”

“I’m not an elf,” Seonghyeon says reflexively.

Juhoon smiles, knowing. “Exactly. Keep it up.”

That earns a surprised laugh out of him.

They work in companionable silence for a while, broken only by the soft snip of scissors and the rustle of paper. Seonghyeon finds that he’s no longer second-guessing every fold. His hands move with a quiet confidence now, muscle memory slowly settling in. Each finished gift is stacked neatly to the side, tagged and ready.

After a long while of silence, Martin and Juhoon begin to talk among themselves. Seonghyeon picks up a bit of English, though they mainly talk in their native tongue— if elves even have one, that is. He doesn’t recognise the language they’re talking in, so he assumes it's an elf language he can’t understand.

He remains quiet as he works, humming softly to himself as the two elves beside him continue to talk, caught up in the interesting conversation they’re having. At some point, Martin throws his head back and laughs loudly, slapping the table with his hand. Juhoon is also stifling his laughter, but eventually fails. Seonghyeon gives them an amused look, wondering what they talked about was so funny for Martin’s face to turn as red as a tomato.

Juhoon catches his stare and just shakes his head. “Don’t mind us. Pretend we’re not here.”

“That’s hard to do. Martin is louder than my humming.”

“Yeah, that’s because Juhoon’s a jokester,” Martin fires back, snorting. Juhoon grins at him, and Seonghyeon swears he can see fondness and mirth mixed into his eyes as he stares at the head elf.

He shrugs it off. It’s rude to think of people like that, much more literal elves. So, Seonghyeon goes back to wrapping presents.

Then, a bell rings in the distance— lower, deeper than the ones decorating the workshop. The hum of activity shifts subtly. Some elves begin moving in a different rhythm, voices calling out lists, footsteps heading toward exits.

Martin straightens. “That’ll be the stables calling.”

Seonghyeon looks up. “Stables?”

“Evening check,” Juhoon explains. “Reindeer care ramps up as it gets later. They… get restless.”

As if on cue, there’s a distant snort, followed by a clatter that echoes faintly through the walls. Seonghyeon glances instinctively toward the windows again.

And he sees Keonho. Closer now.

He’s leading two reindeer across the snow-dusted yard, breath fogging in the cold as he murmurs to them, hands steady on the reins. One of them bumps his shoulder affectionately; Keonho laughs, pushing it away with his hip before fixing the strap on it’s harness. There’s snow in his hair now, melted into dark curls, and his cheeks are flushed pink from the cold.

Seonghyeon doesn’t even realise he’s stopped wrapping.

Martin notices. Screw him, honestly.

“Ah,” he says, amused, dragging out the word. “Looks like you’ve caught the reindeer caretaker’s eye.”

Seonghyeon startles. “What— no, I—”

Martin only smiles wider. “Keonho’s good with them. They like him. He’s been with the reindeer since his first year.”

Outside, Keonho glances up, as if he’s hearing the conversation that’s happening inside.

Their eyes meet through the glass.

It’s brief, barely lasting a second. But Keonho freezes like he’s been caught mid-thought, ears reddening instantly. He lifts a hand in a hesitant little wave, fingers stiff like he’s not sure what to do with them. Seonghyeon’s heart immediately fills with warmth, and he waves back before he can think better of it.

Keonho’s smile is small, almost shy— but it’s real. He ducks his head afterward, tugging his cap lower as he guides the reindeer onward, pretending very hard to focus on his work. And Seonghyeon just watches the elf as he gets licked by the reindeer he’s guiding, and a laugh bubbles out of his throat.

“Alright! Finish up here,” Martin says, already gathering the completed gifts. “I’ll give you a change of clothes, then Keonho will take you to the stables. He’ll show you the basics, just for tonight.”

Seonghyeon nods, then frowns.

“Why do I… have to learn how to take care of reindeer, though?”

Martin pauses, thinking.

“Humans can help,” he eventually says, a grin plastered on his lips. Beside him, Juhoon gives him an assuring pat on the shoulder. “Especially ones the reindeers seem to like.”

“Ah,” Seonghyeon says helpfully, and it elicits a laugh out of both elves. He grins cheekily. “Am I able to feed the reindeers?”

“Why not?” Martin shrugs. “It’s almost feeding time too, might as well.”

Something small and anticipatory curls in Seonghyeon’s stomach. And then, the workshop doors open, letting in a breath of colder air. Snow dusts the floor in a thin trail as a familiar figure steps inside, tugging off his gloves and shaking snow from his sleeves.

Keonho.

He looks different, somehow. Less flustered and shy than earlier, more settled in his role. His cheeks are still pink from the cold, but his movements are sure, confident. He scans the workshop briefly—then his gaze lands on Seonghyeon.

He freezes.

“Oh,” Keonho says again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Seonghyeon replies before he can stop himself.

Martin watches the exchange with blatant interest, Juhoon snickering softly beside him.

“Okay, Keonho, wait here. I need to give Seonghyeon a change of clothes,” Martin says a bit too cheerfully. “You don’t mind waiting for a few minutes?”

Keonho blinks. “Uh, yeah, no worries.”

He follows Martin’s gaze to Seonghyeon, who is still standing by the wrapping table, bits of ribbon clinging to his sleeves, hands faintly glitter-dusted. For a second, Keonho slows to a halt, breath hitching. Seonghyeon stares at him, concerned. It’s scary how the elf can change his facial expressions as quickly as him wrapping presents.

“Seonghyeon, follow me.”

Martin leads the both of them down a narrow corridor branching off the main workshop. The noise fades as they walk. There’s no gears, no chiming bells, just the soft crunch of boots against snow-dusted stone. Martin is humming again, and stops at the end of the hall. He opens the door to a room full of cabinets, and he goes straight to the one at the far right.

Seonghyeon waits patiently as Martin rifles through a tall wooden cabinet, and his eyes light up when he finds what he needs.

“Here we go!” Martin says brightly, pulling out a folded bundle of clothes.

Seonghyeon peers down at it.

It’s… unmistakably elf clothing. Thick knit sweater. Fur-lined trousers. Wool socks. A long coat that looks absurdly warm. Elves probably work themselves up in a furnace with all these thick clothes, though Seonghyeon knows they need it to face the harsh snowfall outside.

He squints, examining the clothes. “These are…?”

“Keonho’s,” Martin says casually, and Seonghyeon chokes.

“What?”

Martin blinks down at him, faking bewilderment. “Well, we can’t give you spare uniforms. Those are regulated, unfortunately for you.” Seonghyeon has a feeling that this stupid elf is teasing him. “And, you can’t go out in that.”

He gestures vaguely at Seonghyeon’s thin jacket, the cozy blanket still draped over his shoulders like a super hero cape.

“Oh, yeah? What if I do?” Seonghyeon says, challenging him.

Martin raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Right, sorry,” Seonghyeon mutters.

“Exactly. Keonho’s about your size, so it’s close enough.” Martin hands him the bundle of clothes, and it weighs down Seonghyeon’s arms. 

He stares at the clothes again, heat creeping up his neck.

“You’re telling me to wear his clothes.”

“Yes.”

“That he—”

“Yes.”

“That he wears?”

Martin grins, unrepentant. “They’re clean, don’t worry.”

“That’s not—!” Seonghyeon cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “You know what. Fine. Okay. Sure, whatever. I’ll wear his stupid clothes.”

Martin points to a door, triumphant. “Lovely! Changing room’s there. Don’t take too long.”

Seonghyeon flips him off, earning a playful gasp from the head elf. He bites back a satisfied grin. He carries the bundle of clothes over to the changing room in the corner, and takes in a deep breath.

He can’t believe his heart is thudding far too loudly for something that should be this mundane.

He ducks into the room, shuts the door with a soft click, and leans against it for a second. He holds the clothes in his arms, squeezing them to his chest.

Keonho’s clothes.

Shit, this place and it’s elves are crazy. Is Martin insane??

Seonghyeon exhales slowly, and starts to change.

The sweater is warm immediately, soft and faintly scented. It smells a bit like pine, snow, and a little bit of chocolate. It’s gentle and comforting, which soothes his nerves just a little of having to wear an elf’s clothes. An elf he barely knows. Martin is throwing him under the bus, at this point. Not to mention the sweater is kind of big on him, and the sleeves just go past his knuckles, leaving his fingers in the open.

Evil and stupid elf.

Surprisingly, the trousers fit better than he expects. The coat is heavy, and the kind weight settles gently over his shoulders. Seonghyeon instantly feels warmer, and he has half a heart to ask Martin if he could donate some elf clothes because they’re so cozy and warm and fit for bad snowstorms in Seoul.

When Seonghyeon looks at himself in the mirror, he barely recognises the sight.

Pah, I look like an elf.

The thought scares him a little.

When he steps back out, Martin gives an approving hum. “See? It fits you like a glove!”

Seonghyeon tugs awkwardly at the sleeves. “Well, you didn’t have to tell me they were his.”

“You’re the one who’s making it an issue,” Martin chuckles, helping Seonghyeon put his neatly folded clothes into a drawer. “Come on, don’t keep him waiting.”

The way Martin says it makes Seonghyeon blush.

Back in the workshop, Keonho is standing near the entrance leading to the stables, talking quietly with Juhoon. He’s gesturing animatedly, clearly mid-story, with Juhoon as his ever interested audience. Until Juhoon’s gaze flicks past him.

The elf’s smile widens.

Keonho notices, and turns.

Then, he stops at what he sees.

Seonghyeon blushes at the scrutiny of Keonho’s eyes washing over him. He is painfully aware of himself all at once— of the coat, the sweater, the fact that Keonho’s eyes are tracking over him like he’s something worth studying.

“Oh,” Keonho says faintly.

Juhoon snorts. “That’s all you have to say after telling me all that?”

“H-Hey! Why would you say that? He can hear—” Keonho shuts up as Martin and Seonghyeon walk up to them, stopping just an arm away. 

“What were you guys talking about?” Martin asks, looking between the two elves.

“Nothing!” Keonho immediately shouts out, before lowering his voice. “Took you guys long enough. I was just done with my story. Isn’t that right, Juhoon?”

Juhoon gives him an unimpressive look. “Right.” He notices Martin’s puzzled expression, and his face softens. “I’ll tell you after this.”

Martin nods, uncertain. “Okay,” he says slowly. “In any case, Seonghyeon’s clothes fit him perfectly.”

“You don’t have to tell us that, you know,” Keonho teases.

“Take a closer look, Keonho.”

“What? What for—” Keonho starts to say, and when his eyes run over Seonghyeon’s body once more, making him shiver, the elf’s eyes widen comically large.

His ears go red instantly.

“You— Aren’t those my clothes?” Keonho suddenly grabs both of Seonghyeon’s arms, lifting them up and down as if he’s an instrument. Those hands move down to his chest, tugging at the sweater, patting Seonghyeon down at the same time. 

“What are you even doing?” Martin grins with obvious amusement.

Keonho shoots him a glare. “You gave him my clothes, didn’t you?” 

“Your builds are pretty similar, so your clothes fit him best.” Martin laughs at the look on Keonho’s face. “What? It’s practical.”

“You— ugh.” Keonho hangs his head low, and Seonghyeon can see his ears turning red in real time. “I seriously think we need to reconsider our friendship, Martin.”

Martin’s grin only widens. “Sure. But,” he points to Seonghyeon’s clothes, and much to his annoyance, they start talking in their elf language. “They’re warmer than whatever he had on earlier. Humans freeze fast.”

Keonho opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

His ears are fully red now, the colour crawling all the way down his neck, and Seonghyeon thinks it’s such a pretty colour. “You could’ve asked.”

“And ruin the surprise?” Juhoon pipes in.

Keonho snaps his head to the elf, a betrayed look on his face. “Whose side are you on, Juhoon?”

Seonghyeon, who has been standing there letting himself be inspected like some sort of display mannequin, finally clears his throat.

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about, but if it helps,” he offers, tentative. “They’re really warm.”

Keonho freezes.

Then, very slowly, he looks at Seonghyeon again. Really, really looks this time. At how the sleeves fall just right over his wrists. At how the coat sits comfortably on his shoulders, like it was always meant to be there.

Something soft flickers across Keonho’s face before he can hide it, and Seonghyeon doesn’t know how to feel. But his cheeks are flushed hot.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “They are.” Then his softness fades and his lips quirk into a teasing smirk. “Because it’s my clothes, duh.”

“Are you glad I’m wearing them, then?” The question leaves Seonghyeon’s mouth, and even he is surprised by his boldness. 

Keonho’s mouth falls open, and he swears the elf’s cheeks actually lit on fire for a moment.

“Uh—”

Martin claps his hands once, sharp and loud, startling the both of them in whatever moment they were sharing.

“Alright! This is my cue to leave before this gets unbearable to watch.”

“What—” Keonho starts.

“I’m taking Juhoon,” Martin continues, already steering the other elf away by the shoulders. “You two can go on ahead. Have fun.”

Juhoon barely resists, only offering Seonghyeon a small, knowing smile as he’s dragged away. “Don’t get lost,” he says lightly, letting himself get pulled away.

The two elves disappear down the hallway, laughter fading into the hum of the workshop, leaving behind a strange, sudden quiet Seonghyeon suddenly feels awkward in.

It’s just the two of them now.

Fuck, I’m not a talker at all. Seonghyeon glances at Keonho who is lost in his own thoughts, and the elf looks equally lost as he is.

The snow beyond the open doorway then drifts in softly, cold air brushing against Seonghyeon’s cheeks. He shivers, just slightly from the sudden wind attack. Fuck, how does Keonho even survive out in the cold? Do elves have an extra layer of warmth built into them or something? Seonghyeon looks at Keonho, and the elf doesn’t even look half bothered by the sudden intrusion of wind.

But why is Keonho suddenly frowning?

“Hold on,” he says, stepping closer before Seonghyeon can even process it.

The elf reaches out, hesitates for a split second— then gently tugs Seonghyeon’s scarf higher, wrapping it snug around his neck. His fingers are warm despite the cold, brushing Seonghyeon’s jaw accidentally.

“Oh,” Seonghyeon breathes, more surprised than anything.

“S-sorry,” Keonho blurts, hands retreating halfway before stopping. “I just— it gets colder near the stables.”

“It’s okay,” Seonghyeon says quickly. “I don’t mind.”

Keonho visibly swallows. He gives a firm nod, and moves onto gloves next. He takes Seonghyeon’s hands in his, holding them so gently that he’s afraid Keonho might be the one to break instead of him. He pulls on the gloves, carefully sliding over Seonghyeon’s hands. Keonho adjusts the cuffs, making sure no skin is exposed.

He has lost count of how many times their fingers have brushed.

For a moment, the world feels very small.

“There,” Keonho mutters, giving him a onceover. “Better.”

Seonghyeon looks down at their joined hands, then back up at him. “You take good care of everyone, huh?”

Keonho blinks. “I just do my job.”

“You’re doing a great job, then,” Seonghyeon says softly, smiling at him.

Keonho goes quiet for a second.

“…Thank you,” he whispers, voice barely coherent. “Uh, should we go?”

He turns, leading the way toward the stables, but not before Seonghyeon feels his gloved hand being gently, deliberately, held for just a second longer than necessary. 

It makes his heart jump.

And when they step out into the snow together, Seonghyeon realises something with a quiet, fluttering certainty.

The North Pole doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

The doors to the stables creak open with a long, wooden groan.

Cold air rushes out immediately, sharper than the chill inside of the workshop, carrying with it the earthy scent of hay and pine and animal warmth. Seonghyeon inhales instinctively, and immediately regrets it when the cold bites at the inside of his nose.

“Oh,” he says weakly. “It’s… colder than I thought.”

Keonho snorts. “Why would you breathe in the cold air?”

“I don’t know, okay! My nose just breathed on it’s own.”

“Of course it did,” Keonho shakes his head, chuckling. “Is it really cold for you?”

“I mean, it’s much more bearable now.”

Keonho pauses, halfway through pulling his gloves back on. Seonghyeon glances over, and sees concern flickering across his face before he schools it into something gentler. 

“That’s good,” he says. “Just stay close to me, okay?”

Stay close.

Seonghyeon nods, because it feels like the safest answer in the world.

Inside, the stables are wide and tall, lanterns hanging from beams overhead, casting warm pools of light over rows of stalls. Reindeers shift and snort softly, antlers brushing against wood, hooves clopping lazily against the floor. Some lift their heads when they see Keonho, ears twitching in recognition.

Immediately, a few of them perk up at the sight of Seonghyeon.

“Oh no,” Keonho mutters under his breath.

“What?” Seonghyeon asks, already wary.

Before Keonho can answer, one reindeer steps forward, nose outstretched. Then another, and another. 

Seonghyeon barely has time to react before something warm and wet presses against his cheek.

He yelps. “Ah—!”

A tongue drags enthusiastically across his face.

He stumbles back, slipping slightly on the packed snow near the entrance— and immediately feels hands grab at his arms, steadying him before he can fall flat on his back.

“I’ve got you,” Keonho says quickly, grip firm and warm even through the layers.

Seonghyeon blinks, breath catching. “…Thanks,” he murmurs, steadying himself on his own two feet.

The reindeer snorts happily, utterly unapologetic.

“I—” Seonghyeon laughs, half hysterical. “Did I just get licked?”

Keonho’s lips turn into a sunny smile. “Like, twice now.”

“Why do they like me so much, anyway?”

Keonho pauses.

“They…” he falters, looking at Seonghyeon with something he can’t explain. “They like good people, I guess.”

Seonghyeon blinks, taken aback. Keonho gives him a toothy grin, and leads him further inside, not allowing any more room for conversation. He starts to explain things slowly, and Seonghyeon pays extra attention to every word that leaves his mouth.

First, approach the reindeer from the side to not startle it. Then, hold out your hand to let it sniff first so they know you’re not a threat. Keonho also teaches him how to keep hold of the reins without wrapping them around your wrist. They’re now out in the open, snow falling wildly around them, and Keonho has a reindeer by his to demonstrate.

“Whatever you do,” Keonho says seriously. “Don’t loop it around your—”

But Seonghyeon takes one step back, and his foot catches onto something unseen. The reins tug suddenly as the reindeer moves, and before he knows it, Seonghyeon is spun slightly off balance, yelping as he stumbles—

—and falls straight onto his ass in the snow.

The reindeer looks back at him, offended.

There’s a split second of silence.

Then, Keonho bursts out laughing.

Seonghyeon stares up at him, affronted. “You said—”

“I said don’t,” Keonho manages between laughs, hurrying over and crouching in front of him. “Here, give me your hand.”

Seonghyeon places his hand in Keonho’s without thinking, grumbling.

Keonho pulls him up easily, grip secure, thumb pressing briefly into Seonghyeon’s palm before he lets go. Seonghyeon flinches, wondering what that was.

He shakes his head, sighing. “This is humiliating.”

Keonho smiles at him, soft and fond. “You’re doing great, don’t worry.”

That makes it worse.

What happens next literally kills Seonghyeon’s remaining dignity.

Keonho had warned him about it. He really had. 

He still climbs onto the small training sled with far too much confidence, gripping the sides like he’s about to take off into the sky. 

“Okay.” Keonho holds onto Seonghyeon’s side before letting go, his touch burning his skin. “Just sit still—”

The sled jerks.

Seonghyeon is just too clumsy in the snow, apparently.

He yelps and immediately tips sideways, landing face-first into a pile of snow.

He hears a loud, horrified gasp from behind. “Seonghyeon!”

“I’m okay!” comes the muffled reply.

Keonho’s hands are on him again, helping him up, brushing snow from his hair, from his shoulders, from his sleeves. His fingers linger on Seonghyeon for a while, frowning in concern.

“You’re really bad at this,” the elf eventually says.

Seonghyeon snorts. “You think I haven’t noticed?”

By his third fall into the snow, they’re both laughing too hard to care.

Snowflakes cling to Seonghyeon’s lashes, melt against his flushed cheeks. He looks around in awe as snow continues to fall steadily from the dark sky, completely enraptured.

“Does it ever stop snowing?” He asks quietly.

Keonho follows his gaze. “Not really.”

Seonghyeon feels a smile crawling to his lips.

“You’re lucky. I’d love to see snow everyday when I wake up.”

“You like snow?”

“Of course I do. Who doesn’t? Don’t you like snow?”

Seonghyeon doesn’t see Keonho looking at him instead of the snow falling all around them in white petals. 

The elf’s voice is sweetly soft when he finally answers. 

“…Yeah. I love snow.”

The both of them stay lying on the snow, Seonghyeon watching as the snowstorm continues relentlessly, and he only starts to feel a bit cold after a short while. Keonho laughs beside him.

“Let’s go back. It’s getting late already.”

“The sky still looks the same from a few hours ago,” Seonghyeon mumbles.

“The snowstorm usually grows a bit colder when it’s night, I’m starting to feel a little cold too.”

“Oh, really? That’s new.”

“Mm,” Keonho nods. He stands up then, and helps pull Seonghyeon to his feet. “Let’s go, then.”

On the walk back, Keonho hands him a mug of hot cocoa he randomly materialised out of nowhere. Seonghyeon just stares in shock, hands gripping the very real, legitimate mug in his hands, filled with piping hot chocolate.

“Are you sure you don’t have magical powers? I feel like you could save the world with them.”

Keonho snorts. “Like how? And that's to the best of my ability, I can’t do any more extraordinary things.”

“You can literally make hot cocoa for everyone in the world. That’s a superpower.”

“I guess, but I want to reserve my hot cocoa to people who I care about.”

“True,” Seonghyeon says, completely ignoring Keonho’s remark, flying right over his head. The steam from the cup of hot cocoa curls up into the cold air, warming up his face.

They stop beneath a lantern-lit path then, light glowing gold against the snow. It looks magical at best, and Seonghyeon just stares in awe.

It doesn’t help that a gush of cold wind suddenly kisses his skin, making him shiver.

Without a word, Keonho shrugs off his coat and drapes it over Seonghyeon’s shoulders.

“Keonho—”

“You’re going to freeze.”

“Okay, but do you have an extra protective layer of heat in your body or what? Are you not going to get cold from wearing less layers?”

“We do. That’s why I gave you my coat, idiot. I thought it was common knowledge?”

“It’s not, I’ll tell you that.”

“Alright, but just don’t take off my coat. You’re definitely going to freeze up.”

Seonghyeon looks at him, breath visible between them.

“…Thank you, nonetheless.”

Keonho’s ears go red once more, and the bells in Seonghyeon’s heart chimes again.

This time, they sound dangerously close to home.

DAY 2

Seonghyeon wakes up to the sound of bells. Not the loud, jubilant kind— just soft chimes, distant and rhythmic, like wind brushing against metal. For a moment, he forgets where he is.

His body is warm, wrapped in unfamiliar blankets that smell faintly of pine and something sweeter. When he opens his eyes, the ceiling above him isn’t his own. Wooden beams arch overhead, carved with tiny stars and moons, glowing faintly with magic.

Ah, right.

The North Pole.

He sits up slowly, breath fogging in the cool air. Juhoon had let him stay in his room for the time being, and while Seonghyeon had firmly denied, the stubborn elf insisted and told him he had another room he could rest in. So, Seonghyeon finally caved in and shamefully, he slept like a baby.

He peers out the frost-laced window beside the bed. Snow is falling again, thick and glittering, coating the workshop rooftops and winding paths like powdered sugar. Elves move below in neat lines, bundled up, carrying crates and lists and lanterns.

And when Seonghyeon looks further ahead, by the stables, he spots Keonho.

He’s already awake, already working, brushing down a reindeer’s legs with quiet focus. The animal stamps once, snorts, then stills under his touch. Keonho murmurs something soothing, breath visible in the cold, curls escaping from under his cap.

Seonghyeon’s chest warms in a way that has nothing to do with the cozy, soft blankets.

A yawn escapes his mouth, and he feels… oddly lethargic. His body still feels a little heavy, like sleep hasn’t fully let go of him yet. When he swings his legs off the bed, his feet sink into a plush rug instead of cold stone. Someone—Juhoon, probably—had thought ahead.

Outside the door, he can hear faint movement. Numerous voices overlapping one another, and Seonghyeon grumbles. These elves sure are hardworking.

By the time Seonghyeon steps into Santa’s Workshop, wrapped in the coat Keonho gave him last night, the North Pole is already busy and very much alive.

He’s 100% sure the elves here don’t take a break at all.

They bustle past with armfuls of boxes. Bells chime overhead, not loudly, but constantly, like the place itself is breathing. Seonghyeon lingers near the doorway, taking it all in again, because he honestly still can’t believe he’s living his life like this for only three days now. It was just yesterday he woke up in the North Pole, and he wonders if it will ever stop feeling unreal.

Probably not.

Light filters in through tall frosted windows, pale and bluish, the North Pole’s version of morning, he presumes. Outside, snow continues it’s endless descent, and Seonghyeon can start to hear the gentle clatter of tools and ribbons and gears beginning their daily rhythm as he enters the gift-wrapping room.

Someone taps him on his shoulder.

He twists around, startled, and is greeted by the sight of Martin. Standing tall with his ridiculous Christmas hoodie.

“Good morning, Seonghyeon,” the head elf greets, smiling. “Did you sleep well?”

Seonghyeon nods. “Yeah. Surprisingly well, actually.”

“Well, yes. Juhoon’s room tends to have that effect.”

“You slept in his room before?”

“Uh, I—” Martin coughs into his fist, hiding an obvious, growing blush. “We have sleepovers, sometimes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You sound like you don’t believe me.”

“I do,” Seonghyeon grins smugly. “I was just wondering if you guys have sleepovers sometimes, did Juhoon sleep in your room last night, then?”

Martin chokes, and Seonghyeon takes it as a yes.

He opens his mouth to start teasing the head elf again when a voice comes up from behind him.

“What’s going on here?”

Seonghyeon whips around in surprise at the unfamiliar voice, and he comes face to face with an elf as tall as him, with dirty blond hair ruffled sort of messily but he manages to make it look good. And geez, the elf is sending him a nasty look.

“Ah! Good morning, James!” Martin perks up, waving cheerfully.

Oh, so this is James, the assistant head elf?

Seonghyeon’s jaw almost drops when James’ mean expression melts away into a joyous smile as he greets Martin good morning. The elf’s smile is bright, easy. One that reaches his eyes. He claps Martin on the shoulder fondly, and Seonghyeon is left debating whether or not James just has a mean resting face and that the nasty look he gave him wasn’t intentional.

“Good morning. You’re up early,” he says, then his gaze flicks back to Seonghyeon. And, he can’t lie, he feels intimidated. The smile on James’ face softens, curious now rather than sharp. “And you must be the human.”

Seonghyeon stiffens reflexively, then straightens his posture. “Uh— yeah. I’m Seonghyeon,” he bows slightly. “Nice to meet you.”

James’ expression immediately drops.

“Hey, hey.” His arms quickly reach out, hands gripping onto Seonghyeon’s shoulders, straightening him back up. “There’s no need to bow. There’s no hierarchy here.”

Seonghyeon has never felt more awkward. “Ah, uh, sorry. Force of habit.”

“Force of habit makes me wonder how you were raised,” James huffs, but leaves it at that. He studies Seonghyeon for a second, and it honestly makes his hair stand.

James looks like he’s cataloguing him, assessing, taking stock of something delicate. Seonghyeon has never felt more naked than under the elf’s scrutiny. His eyes flick briefly to the coat Seonghyeon is wearing.

Keonho’s coat.

Something unreadable passes over his expression, but it’s gone just as quickly.

Really, this should be considered their superpower because how on earth can elves change their facial expressions like they’re masks?

“So,” James says slowly, folding his arms. “You’re the one who caused half the workshop to panic yesterday.”

“Hey,” Martin protests immediately. “He didn’t cause anything.”

Seonghyeon opens his mouth, then closes it. “...I kind of did, though. If you think about it.”

Martin looks at him exasperatedly, but James laughs— a low, surprised sound. “You’re honest. I like that.”

He steps closer, offering a hand.

“James. Assistant Head Elf. I oversee logistics, security, and—” he glances meaningfully at the ceiling. “—making sure humans don’t accidentally wander into magical territory. Anything under the sun, really.”

Seonghyeon takes his hand carefully. James’ grip is firm, warm, and grounding. It honestly lowers his guard just a little. He can’t explain it, but James radiates off older brother vibes, or maybe that’s just him.

“Well,” Seonghyeon says. “I can promise I didn’t mean to.”

“I believe you,” James replies easily. “Most humans who end up here don’t.”

Martin exhales in relief beside him. “See? He’s harmless.”

“I didn’t say that,” James answers dryly, but there’s no bite to it. He turns back to Seonghyeon. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Better.” Seonghyeon just decides to be straightforward. “I’m still a little confused, but overall, I feel better.”

“Good.” James nods once. “Because we need to talk.”

Martin’s cheer dims just a fraction. “James—”

“Not like that,” James says gently. “He deserves to know.”

Seonghyeon’s stomach tightens. 

James gestures for them to walk, leading them away from the busiest parts of the workshop. The noise dulls slightly as they stop near a large window overlooking the stables. Snow swirls beyond the glass, and Seonghyeon watches keenly as reindeers shift lazily below, hoping to catch a glimpse of Keonho.

“Humans can’t stay at the North Pole, as you know already,” James says matter of factly. “The magic here isn’t meant for long-term exposure. You’re safe for now, but we need a plan.”

Seonghyeon nods. He’d expected this, Still, the words settled heavy in his chest.

“So… When will I go home?”

“You will,” James replies. “But not immediately.”

Both Seonghyeon and Martin look at him.

James continues. “I didn’t manage to arrange a meeting with Santa, but I’ve informed him of your situation.”

Seonghyeon’s heart jumps. “Santa?”

Martin beams. “Wow, Santa Claus knows about you now!”

“And,” James adds, “after some discussion, we’ve decided the safest option is for you to accompany him on the night of Christmas Eve.”

Seonghyeon blinks. “What?”

“Santa’s sleigh travels everywhere,” James explains. “Including your home. We’ll make a stop in Seoul, Korea. You’ll be returned safely, without tearing any seams in the magic.”

Seonghyeon opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. 

“...That makes sense.”

“Yes,” James confirms. “Which means you’re leaving tomorrow night.”

“That’s pretty soon.”

“It is.” The smile on James’ lips reminds Seonghyeon of someone, and yet again, he can’t seem to recall who it is. “So, I hope you’ll enjoy your time here in the North Pole.”

Seonghyeon grins. “Thank you.”

James continues. “You can spend your day however you like, I don’t really care. But I’m sure Martin has already decided what to do for you so I’m not going to assign any tasks. I can’t make a guest do work, anyway.”

Martin snorts from beside him. “You know that’s a lie.” He grins. “And I don’t have any tasks today. But I do think Keonho has one today.”

Seonghyeon’s heart skips a beat. “Really?”

As if summoned by name, a familiar laugh carries faintly through the glass. Seonghyeon turns instinctively, and spots Keonho again, tugging a reluctant reindeer forward, snow clinging to his sleeves. Something warm inside Seonghyeon twists at the endearing sight.

“I don’t… want to cause trouble,” he says quietly.

James looks at him for a long time.

Then his expression softens.

“You’re not trouble,” he says. “Just treat this place like how you treat your house. You’re welcomed here, Seonghyeon.”

Martin nods. “Exactly. You’re no burden. You’re already a lot of help! I don’t think I’ve ever seen the workshop so excited before when we have a new human over.”

James snorts. “Literally. I swear I lost sleep from how excited the elves were yesterday.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Seonghyeon mutters.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” James claps his hands together. “Just worry about whatever you’re helping with today.”

“Oh, right. Do you know what Keonho’s task is today?” Seonghyeon asks, merely out of curiosity, okay? Nothing more.

James smiles knowingly.

“We’ll let Keonho tell you himself. Oh, and do you want breakfast?”

James’ question hangs in the air.

“Seonghyeon. Breakfast?” he repeats mildly.

Seonghyeon blinks, then he laughs, quieter than usual. “Uh, sure. I do feel a little hungry.”

“Good,” James nods, satisfied. “You’ll want to eat. Humans eat to survive, don’t they?”

Martin hums thoughtfully. “That explains a lot.”

James shoots him a look. “Don’t start.” He turns back to Seonghyeon, already softer again. “There’s a small kitchen just past the eastern hall. It’s nothing fancy, but really warm. You can ask the elves in charge to cook for you.”

“Do you guys not eat breakfast?”

“We usually don’t eat at all.”

“You’re missing out, then.”

“That’s why we have a kitchen,” James snorts. “Anyway, I’m sure the elves will be thrilled to cook for you, since you’re our special guest.”

“I’ll feel bad,” Seonghyeon mumbles. 

“I promise you they won’t feel bad.”

Before Seonghyeon can respond, the workshop doors creak open again. Cold air spills in, sharp and clean, and with it comes the familiar jingle of harness bells.

“Oh,” Martin says, glancing up. “Speak of the elf.”

Seonghyeon turns.

Keonho steps inside, brushing snow off his sleeves, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. His cap is askew, curls damp with melted snow. He’s laughing under his breath at something an elf is saying behind him. 

Something cold twists Seonghyeon like a vice.

The elf doesn’t see the three of them until he bids goodbye to his friend, and his eyes lift.

They land on Seonghyeon.

The smile drops off his face.

Seonghyeon’s blood goes cold immediately.

“Oh,” Keonho says awkwardly.

Seonghyeon blinks just as awkwardly. “Hi.”

Martin makes an indistinct sound between a cough and a laugh. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to it. Breakfast is waiting for you, Seonghyeon, if you want it.” He gives Seonghyeon an encouraging nudge. “We’ll talk later.”

James nods, already stepping away. “Oh, and Keonho,” he adds casually, “you’re on delivery duty today.”

Keonho groans. “Today?”

“Yes.” James pauses, glancing between the two of them. Something flickers in his eyes. “I’m trusting you.”

“Yes, James…” Keonho sighs loudly.

With that, both elves leave, and the space they leave behind feels quiet.

Way too quiet.

Why couldn’t I be born with perfect talking abilities? Seonghyeon wonders instead of continuing the conversation with Keonho.

Snow taps gently against the windows. Somewhere deeper in the workshop, bells continue to chime. And the silence stretches between them until Keonho clears his throat.

“You— uh. You’re up early.”

“So are you,” Seonghyeon replies.

Keonho shrugs, hands fidgeting with the edge of his gloves. “Reindeers don’t really care what time it is. They’re bothersome, most of the time.”

“Oh, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know,” Seonghyeon snorts, stepping closer. There’s a brief pause before Keonho’s gaze flicks down, and lingers on the coat wrapped snugly around Seonghyeon.

He chokes. 

“Y-You’re still wearing my coat?”

Seonghyeon hesitates. “I can give it back if you want.”

“No!” Keonho blurts, then winces. “I mean— I didn’t mean— Aish, it’s fine. You look content, anyway.”

His ears betray him, turning red again.

Seonghyeon’s chest tightens, and something compels him to reach up and brush his fingers against the tip of Keonho’s ears. He freezes the second his fingers make contact. It’s barely a touch, but god, Keonho’s ears are so warm.

The elf reacts like he’s been struck by lightning.

He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat and jolts back half a step, hand flying up to cover his ear.

“S-Seonghyeon!” he yelps.

Seonghyeon’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to— A-are you hurt?”

Keonho’s ears are bright now. Not pink. Not flushed. Fully, unmistakably red, right down to the tips, and it’s spreading fast.

“Who— Who taught you to randomly touch elf ears?” Keonho mumbles, refusing to meet his eyes.

Seonghyeon stares at him, mortified. “I didn’t know it was a thing,” he says quickly. “I just… felt like touching it?”

Keonho looks at him in disbelief.

“...Humans are crazy.”

“Excuse you?” Seonghyeon nudges him. “But, uh,” he says carefully. “Is it like… touching someone’s hand?”

“More like you just grabbed my heart and started shaking it,” Keonho mutters.

Seonghyeon snorts before he can stop himself. “That sensitive?”

Keonho shoots him a look. “Do you mind?”

“I’m nervous!” Seonghyeon defends weakly. “You yelled my name like I stabbed you.”

“You might as well have,” Keonho grumbles, still covering his ear like it’s sacred. “Elf ears are— they’re sensitive. Especially the tips.”

“Oh, really?”

Keonho groans. “Don’t use that to your advantage.”

Seonghyeno lifts his hands in surrender. “I swear I won’t touch them again!”

“You sure?”

“Do I look like a liar?”

“...Kind of.”

Silence passes between them.

“I’m getting breakfast. Don’t follow me.”

“Hey, wait—!”

Seonghyeon is turning on his heel when Keonho immediately grabs onto his wrist. He turns his head back to look at the elf, and is surprised to see a cute pout on his lips.

“Don’t leave, I want you with me.”

This time, Seonghyeon’s ears turn red.

Keonho notices, and a smug grin tugs at his lips.

“Oho, is it the human’s turn for his ears to turn red?”

Seonghyeon swallows. “My ears don’t do that,” he says defensively. “They’re normal.”

Keonho hums, clearly unconvinced. His grip on Seonghyeon’s wrist loosens, but he doesn’t let go completely. Instead, his thumb drags absentmindedly over Seonghyeon’s pulse.

“Really?” Keonho tilts his head, eyes glittering with mischief. “Then you won’t mind if I check, right?”

“Check what—”

Before Seonghyeon can finish talking, Keonho steps closer, careful and quiet as falling snow. Warm fingers brush beneath his hair, and they just barely graze the shell of his ear. It’s barely anything at all, but Seonghyeon gasps quietly, breath catching.

His whole body jolts, shoulders hitching up as a sharp, embarrassing shiver runs straight down his spine. He makes a sound— half a breath, half a whine— and clamps a hand over his own ear when Keonho’s fingers move away.

“You—!”

Keonho freezes for exactly half a second before he breaks out into laughter.

It’s bright, unrestrained, and delightful. The elf covers his mouth with his sleeve as his shoulders shake.

Seonghyeon glares at him. “You did that on purpose.”

Keonho’s ears flush again, but this time his smile is victorious. “So, humans are sensitive there too, huh?”

“That’s not the same!” Seonghyeon protests. “You caught me off guard.”

“You touched mine first,” Keonho says smugly, shrugging. “All is fair.”

Seonghyeon groans, dragging both hands over his face. “You’re actually crazy.”

Keonho hums. Then, he leans in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “It’s interesting though.”

He peeks through his fingers. “What’s interesting?”

The elf’s fingers hover again, just near Seonghyeon’s ear. He’s not even touching, not yet at least, and Seonghyeon goes rigid instantly.

Keonho beams. “You react faster than reindeers.”

Seonghyeon scowls at him.

“Relax, relax. I won’t touch your ears again.” Keonho withdraws his hand at the last second, laughing softly. “We’re even now.”

“I feel molested.”

“And you think I didn’t?”

“...Fair.”

“Exactly.” Keonho grabs his wrist again and tugs him gently forward. “Breakfast?”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Yeah. I’m craving smores.”

“So, elves have cravings?”

Keonho doesn’t say anything, just laughs, and leads them to the kitchen.

His cheer fades just a little as they start walking.

It’s subtle. So subtle Seonghyeon nearly misses it. The way his steps slow to match Seonghyeon’s, and his face grows dim, shifting from playful to sombre. The workshop corridors glow with warm lantern light, wood-paneled walls humming softly with magic.

Elves bustle past them with armfuls of ribbons and half-finished toys, laughing, chatting, alive with purpose. Everything feels full. 

The most cheerful person Seonghyeon knows currently doesn’t share the same sentiment.

Keonho breaks the silence first, voice quieter than before. “You slept okay?”

Seonghyeon nods. “Yeah. Better than I expected, actually.” He hesitates, then adds. “Your coat helped.”

Keonho smiles at that, and it relieves some of his concern. “Of course it does. It’s my coat, after all.”

They walk a few more steps. Snow taps against the high windows again. It’s constant here— always falling here and there. Almost like the North Pole is stuck in a constant loop of snowfall. Seonghyeon would be admiring the snow if Keonho doesn’t look so bothered.

“So, you talked with James, I presume?” Keonho says suddenly.

It’s not a question.

Seonghyeon nods slowly. “Yeah. I’m leaving tomorrow night.”

The words feel heavier on his tongue than they should.

Keonho’s down expression wraps itself tightly around Seonghyeon’s heart like a vice. He should be relieved and grateful he’s able to go home, he has family and friends probably wondering where on earth he went.

But his fingers curl slightly around Keonho’s coat sleeve instead.

“Oh,” Keonho murmurs, staring straight ahead. “That’s… soon.”

“Mm.”

Another pause stretches between them, but this one is vastly different from the previous silences. Seonghyeon doesn’t want to be the first to say what he’s thinking, and it looks like neither of them want to be.

“I mean, humans don’t belong here forever,” Keonho continues, forcing a lightness into his tone that doesn’t quite match his facial expression. “You’d freeze and turn into a human ice cube.”

Seonghyeon blinks, and lets out a weak laugh. “I've already nearly died, like, twice.”

“That was one time,” Keonho protests automatically, then pauses to think it over. “O…kay. Maybe more than once. But you know what I mean, right?”

“Of course, I do,” Seonghyeon snorts, not meaning his words at all.

They reach the edge of the eastern hall, where the warmth from the kitchen spills out in waves. The smell of sugar and cocoa and complete sweetness hangs in the air. Keonho stops just at the entrance, peeking in but not entering. Seonghyeon stops then too, giving the elf space to do whatever he wants to do.

For a moment, neither of them moves.

Seonghyeon wonders if Keonho is even doing anything.

“You’re… excited though.” Keonho looks at him. “Right?”

Seonghyeon opens his mouth.

Then closes it.

“I… guess,” he says, after a beat. “I— it’s my house. My life.” He pauses. “My bed.”

Keonho snorts loudly at that, catching the attention of the working elves in the kitchen. 

But his ears (sensitive, traitorous things) droop just slightly.

Seonghyeon’s face softens, noticing.

“Come on, Keonho. Let’s go grab your smores.”

He doesn’t stretch the topic any longer, and pulls Keonho into the kitchen. He glances back at the elf who has teased him, saved him, and lent him his coat without hesitation. He glances back at the elf who knows reindeers better than his own kid and laughs like the sun is shining on his face.

“What combination do you usually get your smores in?” He asks.

They end up at a small table tucked near the windows in the kitchen, steam curling lazily from two mugs of hot chocolate. The elves in charge watch them with barely contained delight as they pass over skewers of freshly made s’mores: gooey marshmallow sagging between chocolate and biscuit.

Seonghyeon has a bagel sitting on his plate too, insisted by the elves who managed to persuade him to accept their graciousness. He gives in too easily, because it’s too much of a hassle to reason with them and they actually have superb cooking skills.

He bites into his s’mores and immediately hums. “This is life-changing.”

Keonho blows gently at his own drink, already finished with his s’mores. “Exactly.”

“Everything here is unfairly good,” Seonghyeon says, cheeks already smudged with chocolate. “You guys have to be hiding secrets.”

Keonho watches him, fondness softening his features. “We just… like to share joy.”

It’s a vague answer, but Seonghyeon doesn’t push. What is he supposed to respond to that, anyway? They eat in comfortable quiet for a while, snow drifting lazily past the tall windows. Then, when he looks out, without warning, the snowfall thickens tremendously. What was once gentle becomes sharp and swirling, wind pressing snow hard against the glass.

Keonho stiffens, before running a hand through his hair with a loud groan.

“....Ahh, no,” he mutters, pouting.

Seonghyeon follows his gaze toward the sky. Outside, it has darkened slightly (he doesn’t see a big difference, actually), snow spiraling in shimmering arcs.

He frowns. They look too neat, and way too luminous to be natural.

“That’s bad?” Seonghyeon asks carefully.

“That’s a magical snowstorm.” Keonho drops his head into his hands. “Of course it is. Totally okay. Ugh.”

He pushes back from the table and stands, already tugging on his gloves. “Santa’s going to need a batch of gifts moved before the storm worsens,” he groans again. “Which means I need to wear heavier clothes so I don’t get frozen fingers.”

Seonghyeon blinks. “That sounds intense.”

“It’s a hassle,” Keonho grumbles. “The heavy snow messes with my visibility, and the reins get stiffer, and—” he sighs, stopping his rant. “I’ll be back soon. You can wait here or go hang out with Juhoon and the others.”

Seonghyeon abruptly stands up too, chair dragging against the floor. “Hey— wait. I’ll go with you.”

Keonho coughs loudly, accidentally tripping over his feet and nearly knocking his chair over. “What?”

“I said I’ll go with you,” Seonghyeon repeats firmly. “I don’t want to just sit here.”

“That’s not— Seonghyeon, it’s dangerous. You’ve never even been on a sleigh before.”

“I know.” He swallows. “That’s why I want to try. With you.”

Keonho stares at him, snowlight reflecting in his eyes. He looks ethereal, and Seonghyeon feels his heart pick up pace.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“And, uh, Martin and James told me you had a task today, so I’m assuming it’s this?”

For a long moment, the only sound is the wind howling outside. There’s a pained expression on Keonho’s face, and momentarily, Seonghyeon regrets having ever asked to come along. He’s opening his mouth to apologise when the elf exhales, defeated.

“Don’t listen to those idiots. But, fine. You can come with me.” Keonho looks at him, face hardening. “However, you listen to my instructions at all times. And if I say hold on, you hold on for dear life, got that?”

Seonghyeon blinks, shocked by how serious the carefree elf has gotten.

“Uh, yeah. Got it.”

“I mean it.”

“I trust you, Keonho.”

That does something, apparently. The elf turns away quickly, and Seonghyeon feels his lips quirk up at the red ears warming beneath Keonho’s beanie.

“I’ll grab a thicker coat for you, and a scarf. Wait here.”

Minutes later, Keonho comes back with thicker clothes. And Seonghyeon thinks he has never looked stupider bundled head to toe in clothes warmer than the desert. But he takes back his words when they step out outside, walking through the storm to get to the stables.

Shit, it’s really cold.

Snow whips around them, cold and biting. Seonghyeon feels his teeth start to chatter slightly. Even when he’s wrapped in four layers of clothes, he can still feel the harsh cold seeping into his bones. Keonho, on the other hand, barely looks affected. The elf wears a frustrated look on his face, and Seonghyeon understands because he can barely see anything in this magical snowstorm.

The sleigh waits just beside the stables, the reindeers pawing the ground impatiently. Gifts are already loaded in the back of the sleigh. Seonghyeon stops short, gaping.

“...It’s higher than I thought.”

Keonho glances back at him. “Scared?”

“A little,” he admits bashfully.

Keonho doesn’t tease him. Instead, he steps closer, hands warm even through layers of fabric. “It’s okay,” he says awkwardly. “I got you. Just stay close to me.”

He helps Seonghyeon up onto the sleigh, steady hands firm at his waist, and the warmth burns through the numerous layers of Seonghyeon’s clothes. He feels his cheeks turn hot as he gets himself comfortable, and once he’s seated, Keonho swings his legs over and settles behind him without much thought, one arm slipping around Seonghyeon’s middle to keep him secure.

Seonghyeon freezes.

Keonho doesn’t notice. “Make sure to hold tightly onto the reins, okay?”

“R-Right,” Seonghyeon breathes, back leaning instinctively into Keonho’s chest. He can feel his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

I’m doomed.

There’s no warning when the sleigh lurches forward.

Seonghyeon yelps, fingers immediately clutching onto the reins. Keonho’s right hand is holding onto the reins too, and he gently places it over Seonghyeon’s.

“You’ll help me guide the reindeers to Santa, okay?” The elf says quietly, but Seonghyeon is able to hear him over the loud wind of the winter night. “Just follow my lead.”

The arm wrapped around his waist tightens.

“Focus, Seonghyeon. If we crash, it’s your fault,” Keonho says playfully, but Seonghyeon’s attention is fully elsewhere.

I can’t focus if you’re hugging me like that, you idiot!

He grumbles, and follows Keonho’s lead. Whatever, no use thinking about that. The wind continues to roar around them, snow stinging Seonghyeon’s cheeks.

Behind him, Keonho is warm and solid.

And slowly, Seonghyeon relaxes, breathing syncing with Keonho’s as the sleigh cuts through the storm, bells ringing softly into the white.

It’s silent for a while before Seonghyeon speaks.

“Why don’t you have a name tag?”

Keonho bristles behind him. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s just— Martin and James have one. So, I was wondering if higher-up elves, if that’s a thing, are the only ones who get name tags?”

Keonho snorts softly, breath puffing warm against the back of Seonghyeon’s neck. “Higher-up elves?” he echoes. “Is that what you think I am?”

“Well,” Seonghyeon starts, squinting ahead through the snow. “You’re literally the boss of all the reindeers. You get assigned delivery missions. And I usually only see you at the stables. You look like you know what you’re doing too.” He pauses. “Most of the time.”

“What? Hey.” Keonho looks offended. “I do know what I’m doing.”

“Sure.”

Keonho nudges him lightly with his knee. “And, to answer your question, I used to wear one.”

“Aha, so you’re a higher-up elf!”

“I’m not, I’m just a special case. Martin said it’d be good for me to wear one in case any of the other elves need me for something reindeer related.”

“Yeah? So, where’s your nametag now?”

“I don’t wear one because the reindeers chew on them.”

Silence.

Seonghyeon blinks. “That’s the reason?”

“Yeah.” Keonho shrugs. “They think it’s food, and super shiny. I lost three name tags in one week once.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“It was traumatic, excuse you!”

Seonghyeon laughs, the sound almost getting swallowed by the wind. “So you just gave up entirely?”

“James told me it was ‘undignified’ to keep replacing them.” Keonho sighs. “It’s not even my fault, though. So, now I’m just… nameless.”

Seonghyeon hums thoughtfully. “I dunno. I think a name tag would suit you.”

“Oh? Why?”

Seonghyeon turns his head slightly to meet Keonho’s eyes.

“Who wouldn’t want to know your name?”

Keonho blinks at him, and he sees mirth start to swirl like snowflakes in his vibrant eyes. He laughs, startled, the sound warm and bright right against Seonghyeon’s ear. His arm tightens for a second, like he’s forgotten himself.

“You’re weird.”

“You’re the one hugging me.”

“You’re nice to hug,” Keonho says, and Seonghyeon can hear the smile in his voice.

The sleigh dips suddenly, gliding through a pocket of rough wind, and Seonghyeon instinctively leans back harder into Keonho’s chest with a startled scream. He feels the elf stiffen for a half a heartbeat, before relaxing again, adjusting his grip so his arm rests more securely around Seonghyeon’s waist.

“If I wasn’t hugging you, you’d fall to your death,” he says with a grin. “See? You’re still alive. You should be thanking me.”

“I barely survived,” Seonghyeon deadpans. “If I die, tell my family I slipped like a superhero.”

“I’ll tell them you screamed instead.”

“I didn’t even scream.”

“You literally did.”

“That was a manly yell. Not a scream.”

“More like a girly scream.” Keonho laughs when Seonghyeon pinches his thigh.

They ride on like that, trading small comments over the wind. How the snowstorm smells sharper than usual snowfall today, how one of the reindeers keep trying to veer left and Seonghyeon is doing a terrible job at steering the sleigh, how Santa’s handwriting on the gift tags is somehow always worse than the elves’. 

It’s easy conversation, comfortable even.

Eventually, Seonghyeon asks a question.

“Do you do this often? Riding out in storms like this?”

Keonho hums. “Yeah. It comes with the job.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?”

“Sometimes,” Keonho admits, tugging at the reins a little. “But it’s kind of nice too. I get to have time to myself, flying in the air.”

Seonghyeon looks at him quietly, not saying anything more.

The bells chime softly, snow swirling around them in endless white. Keonho’s chin almost brushes Seonghyeon’s hair when the sleigh glides smoothly again. 

“You’re doing good, by the way,” Keonho says suddenly, a little awkward. “For your first ever sleigh ride.”

Seonghyeon smiles, fingers tightening around the reins. 

“That’s because I have a very good teacher.”

Keonho laughs freely.

This time, Seonghyeon hears the bells in his heart chime louder.

Seonghyeon is sitting on the sleigh, waiting for Keonho to come out of Santa’s… house, he doesn’t know exactly. They arrived not long ago, and Keonho had asked him to wait for him while he transported all the presents inside. 

He tugs the coat he’s wearing tighter around himself, shivering. Snow still falls thick and steady, but the wind isn’t as sharp anymore. It’s still cold, though, and Seonghyeon silently hopes Keonho just hurries up and comes back to hug the cold away.

Ew, no. I sound desperate.

But then he sees Keonho step out of the building, and Seonghyeon finds he doesn’t care anymore.

The elf briskly walks up to the sleigh, readjusting his gloves and securing his beanie properly on his head. Seonghyeon shifts forward a little to give Keonho space to sit behind him, and he feels his shoulders sink when the familiar warmth comes back again. He instinctively moves toward the warmth.

…I’m fucking crazy, Seonghyeon chides.

Keonho eases the reins back, guiding the reindeers to the direction they came from, seemingly not noticing Seonghyeon leaning into him. And before he knows it, they’re back in the air again. The snowstorm hasn’t calmed down, and Seonghyeon still can’t see what’s beyond the horizon, but Keonho is relaxed behind him, so he doesn’t worry.

“Now, we hope the trip back home is smooth too,” Keonho says, voice close to Seonghyeon’s ear.

Seonghyeon exhales tightly. “Don’t jinx it.”

He places his hands onto the reins again, and Keonho’s hands find his own, covering them completely. He blushes furiously at the fact Keonho’s hands can literally engulf his own. He’s an elf, for fucks’ sake. How are Seonghyeon’s hands smaller than a literal elf?

He’s lost in thought when Keonho suddenly pulls back a little, angling the sleigh toward a familiar light shining in the distance, and he leans back instinctively.

Keonho’s arm isn’t around his waist anymore, but Seonghyeon still feels warm regardless.

The elf is humming a tune, and Seonghyeon just listens quietly, enjoying the warmth enveloping around him like a soft blanket and the noise of the snowstorm. 

They’re just about to steer the sleigh toward the familiar lights of the stables when one of the lead reindeers in front snorts sharply, while another slows, ears twitching.

Keonho frowns. “Hey— What’s wrong?”

Seonghyeon peers ahead, squinting through the snowfall. “Are they okay? I don’t see anything.”

“I’ve no idea.” Keonho’s eyebrows furrow, pursing his lips. “They probably sensed something. That’s what usually happens.”

Seonghyeon nods, wordless as he continues looking down, seeking out anything that’s making the reindeers bothered.

Then, he sees something through the blotches of falling snow.

“Is… that deer supposed to be out here?”

Off to the side, half-hidden behind a mound of snow, is a lone reindeer. Smaller than the rest, it’s harness dangling loose, antlers dusted white from the snow. It stamps it’s hooves nervously, lost and helpless. Then, it notices the sleigh in the sky, and immediately bolts the other direction, out of sight.

Seonghyeon realises something.

That’s the same reindeer that licked him yesterday by the fireplace.

“Oh no,” Keonho moans. “What’s it doing out here?”

“Is it lost?”

“I’m pretty sure, yes. Runaways like that deer usually get lost in the heavy snowfall with no guidance.”

“A runaway?” Seonghyeon echoes.

“Yeah. It happens sometimes when snowstorms get too heavy,” Keonho pulls the reins, angles the sleigh to go downward and land safely on the ground. “They get spooked and slip out, or they just escape for fun. Either of the two makes my job troublesome.”

Seonghyeon laughs at Keonho’s pout. The elf hops down first, boots crunching into the snow.

“Stay here, I’ll—”

“No way.” Seonghyeon climbs down with him, nearly slipping before Keonho grabs him by the arm. “I recognise that deer. It’s the one that licked my face yesterday!”

“You’re really bad at listening,” Keonho mutters.

“You’re really bad at stopping me.”

“Too much energy. Just do whatever you want.”

“Thank you.”

Keonho rolls his eyes playfully, then turns and walks toward the deer hiding behind the building pile of snow. He cups his hands around his mouth and clicks his tongue softly.

“Hey, hey. Come on, sweetheart,” he coos, voice gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Let’s go back, yeah?”

The reindeer looks at him warily, peeking from behind the snow. It flicks an ear.

And promptly hides behind the snow further.

Seonghyeon snorts. “You sure you can call yourself a reindeer caretaker?”

Keonho glowers at him, putting a finger over his lips. “Hey, shut it. Watch me.”

After a few failed attempts later, Seonghyeon bursts out laughing, hand clutching his stomach as Keonho stands up, miserable as the reindeer continues to stay behind the snow no matter how much he pleads.

“Aish, it’s no use. My words can’t get through it,” Keonho complains, troubled.

Seonghyeon recovers from his giggling fit, wiping a stray tear at his eyes. He turns back toward the pile of snow, shielding the reindeer, and he thinks of something.

“Should I try instead?”

Keonho blinks. “You?”

“I mean, it licked me yesterday, so it must like me.”

Keonho snorts. “Traitor.” But he steps aside anyway. “Go on, let’s see how good you can do.”

Seonghyeon nods, suddenly nervous. He approaches slowly, hands raised in what he hopes is in a non-threatening way. Snow crunches under his boots, and he stops a few steps away, wondering where and how to start.

“Hey,” he coos softly, feeling a little ridiculous. He cringes a little inside at his high, pitchy voice. “It’s okay, You’re not in trouble.”

The reindeer peeks from behind the snow, tilting it’s head.

“You’re probably cold, aren’t you?” Seonghyeon continues, glancing at it’s loose harness. He has no idea what he’s doing, but looking at the lost reindeer, he suddenly feels maternal instincts over it. “You feel lost too, don’t you? But don’t worry, your friends are right over there.”

He gestures vaguely toward the stables, lights glowing faintly through the pouring snow. 

“Look, they’re all there. Don’t you want to join them?”

For a long second, nothing happens, and Seonghyeon is starting to feel stupid for even attempting this in the first place.

But then, much to his shock, the reindeer takes one tentative step forward.

Seonghyeon’s jaw drops, and when he turns his head, Keonho’s eyes are wide.

He quickly averts his eyes back to the reindeer, and smiles encouragingly despite his shock. “Yeah, yeah. That’s it. Good job, sweetheart.”

Another step. Then another.

Soon, the reindeer is close enough for Seonghyeon to gently take hold of the dangling harness. It snorts softly, warm breath fogging the air. Behind him, Keonho lets out a low whistle.

“Okay, wow. I’m genuinely offended.” Seonghyeon can hear the grin in his words.

He laughs. “Maybe I should just take over your job.”

“No way. I’m not going to lose to you.”

Together, they guide the reindeer back toward the shelter. The moment it spots the rest of the herd, it perks up and breaks into a clumsy trot, disappearing into the warmth and noise of the stables.

Seonghyeon dusts snow off his gloves. “I finally did something today.”

Keonho snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Good job, Seonghyeon.”

“Ooh, I’m getting praised by elf Keonho,” Seonghyeon smiles, turning to him. “High praise coming from someone like you.”

Keonho looks at him for a long moment.

“Can you close your eyes for me?”

Seonghyeon blinks. “What?”

“Just close your eyes. I have a surprise.”

“Okay?” Seonghyeon shuts his eyes close, and he feels the shuffling and crunch of boots in the snow for a short moment. “Keonho—”

Before he can finish, he’s thrown something straight at his chest.

Seonghyeon immediately snaps his eyes open, and he sees the elf scoop up a handful of snow and toss it at him again, a large grin on his face.

“Hey—!” He splutters as cold seeps through his layers. 

Keonho is already laughing, bright and unguarded. “Snowball fight!”

Seonghyeon looks at him, surprised, before he grins, and bends down to grab his own handful of snow.

“You’re on!”

What follows is less of a fight and more of unfiltered chaos. Slipping, laughing, Seonghyeon missing entirely, Keonho nearly landing face flat into the snow, and the both of them nearly tripping more than once. At some point, Seonghyeon shoves Keonho lightly, and they both go down in the snow, breathless from laughing so much.

They lie there for a moment, snow settling into their hair and sleeves.

“...That was fun,” Keonho finally says, panting.

“That was crazy,” Seonghyeon replies. “I’m exhausted. I haven’t had a snowball fight that tiring before.”

“Do you have snowball fights often?”

“I usually do, with my friends.”

“I rarely have snowball fights.”

“Why? You can’t be that busy, right?”

Keonho blinks. “It’s not that. It’s just… my friends just prefer to do other things.”

“Aren’t Martin, Juhoon and James your friends? Just ask them to have snowball fights with you.”

“I usually ask them, but they’re always busy with other things. I don’t even know why they’re busy.”

“That’s tragic,” Seonghyeon mutters.

“Mm.” Keonho goes quiet, and Seonghyeon turns to rest on his shoulder, staring at the elf. He’s looking up at the sky, the stars reflected in his own irises, and it looks like there’s his very own night sky in Keonho’s eyes.

Seonghyeon looks down at the snow, thinking.

Then, he lifts a gloved finger, and traces something into the snow.

S.

A letter ‘S’, the initial of his name, written into the snow neatly but slightly crooked. 

“What are you doing?” Keonho suddenly asks, making Seonghyeon flinch.

“I’m writing the initial of my name.”

“Into the snow?”

“Yeah. Just for fun.”

Keonho hums, and Seonghyeon raises an eyebrow when the elf adds his own initial beside it.

K.

Seonghyeon looks at their initials side by side.

“...Isn’t this the moment where people draw a heart in between the initials?”

Keonho snorts, smiles bright and easy. 

“You’re right,” he says cheekily, and he draws a small heart between the two letters.

Seonghyeon finds himself smiling, chest warm despite the cold. 

He doesn’t see Keonho’s eyes, but he thinks he already knows what he’ll see in them.

DAY 3

The last day comes faster than Seonghyeon likes.

Christmas Eve arrives quietly. At the North Pole, the sky stays dark as always. An endless night stitched together with stars, but there’s a different feeling in the air. The workshop hums with a restrained kind of excitement. Bells ring softer than usual. Elves move quicker with hushed voices. Everyone is aware that time is pressing forward whether they like it or not.

Seonghyeon knows it the moment he wakes up.

He’s leaving tonight.

The thought settles heavy in his chest as he sits up in bed, wrapped in Juhoon’s blankets that smell faintly of pine and snow. His breath fogs the air, and he shivers slightly, bringing his hands up to rub them together.

Somewhere outside, bells continue to chime.

He really doesn’t want to think about leaving yet.

But it looks like everyone is thinking about it once he steps into Santa’s Workshop. Numerous elves walk up to him, shaking his hands, patting his back, and inviting him to oversee them working. Tempting offer, but Seonghyeon declines politely and makes up an excuse to go find Martin, knowing it isn’t true.

There’s only one person— or elf— he wants to see right now.

Keonho.

And it looks like, apparently, Keonho has been thinking about Seonghyeon leaving since before dawn, since he finds the elf staring at the snow with furrowed brows, standing at the edge of the workshop.

“Keonho.”

The elf snaps his head up at the name, and his frown melts away into a gentle smile. Seonghyeon’s cheeks heat up. 

“What were you doing?”

“I was just thinking,” Keonho says, walking up to him. “Have you had breakfast?”

“No.” Seonghyeon shakes his head profusely. “I wanted to find you first thing in the morning.”

Keonho looks startled. “What? Why? Aren’t you hungry?”

Seonghyeon tilts his head, chuckling.

“You wear your emotions on your face, Keonho-yah.”

The elf tenses up, expression tightening slightly. Keonho huffs, hands tucking into his sleeves. “I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Why are you so up, anyway?” Keonho asks, changing the topic. “Humans sleep a lot.”

“And elves don’t eat,” Seonghyeon shoots back. “Everyone has flaws.”

That earns him a small laugh. It sounds a little strained, but Seonghyeon pretends not to notice.

Seonghyeon’s face softens at Keonho’s pursed lips, eyes seemingly faraway elsewhere, eyebrows so furrowed it looks like it’s going to stay permanent.

“Hey, come on. Walk with me?” He takes Keonho’s hand on his own, and leads the elf outside.

Keonho doesn’t ask where they’re going, only tugs gently at Seonghyeon’s hand when he gets distracted. He keeps close, and Seonghyeon doesn’t mind it, if Keonho wants to be closer, he’ll let him.

There’s no exchange of words between them, just the snow falling gently around them, and the chiming of bells.

After a while of walking, Keonho takes the lead. He doesn’t say where they’re going, so Seonghyeon doesn’t ask, because he trusts the elf either way. He looks up at the sky, mesmerized by the constellations and stars, before he spots something forming.

Seonghyeon stops in his tracks.

“Keonho.”

The elf turns just as the sky blooms.

Green light spills across the darkness like ink dropped into water. Then, blue. Then, hints of violet, shimmering and slow, curling across the heavens in soft, impossible waves.

Seonghyeon stares.

“Oh my god,” he whispers in disbelief.

The Northern Lights dance overhead, reflected faintly in the snow beneath their feet. They move like living things, breathing, stretching, as if alive. And Seonghyeon has never seen the Northern Lights. Never in his life.

He looks at Keonho, who he finds is watching him instead of the sky.

Seonghyeon doesn’t know why his heart skips a beat at that.

“I’ve never—” he swallows, overwhelmed. “I’ve never seen the Northern Lights before.”

Something cracks in Keonho’s eyes.

“This is your first time?” he asks softly.

Seonghyeon tears his eyes away just long enough to look at the Northern Lights. “Yeah. I’ve never had the opportunity to see it back on Earth.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Did you plan this?”

Keonho shrugs, ears turning pink at the question. “They appear occasionally in the North Pole. I was hoping you’d still be here so we could watch it together.”

Something warm floods Seonghyeon’s chest. “So, you did plan this.”

Keonho laughs, his smile reminiscent of the sun breaking out in between clouds. “Okay, I did. Happy?”

They stand there together for a long time, shoulders brushing, breath fogging in sync. At some point, their legs grow sluggish, and they sit down in the snow. Keonho’s hand finds his, and Seonghyeon doesn’t move away, letting him be held. In fact, the elf inches closer.

“Seonghyeon.”

“Hm?”

“I want to give you something,” Keonho says suddenly.

Seonghyeon blinks at him. “Huh?”

Keonho fumbles with his sleeves, clearly nervous. “Like a goodbye gift, you know? It’s— it’s nothing big, or fancy. Just—” He gives up, and reaches into his coat pocket. “Here.”

In Keonho’s hand sits a small snowglobe.

Inside it, perfectly crafted, are two tiny figures sitting side by side beneath swirling lights. One unmistakably human, which represents himself. And another one with pointed ears, representing Keonho. Above them, miniature Northern Lights shimmer faintly, enchanted to glow softly even without shaking it. Mini snow falls inside, and Seonghyeon is captivated.

His breath catches.

“Keonho…”

“I know humans like souvenirs, or gifts, in that aspect,” Keonho explains quickly, words tripping over each other. “And magic behaves weirdly outside the North Pole. But this one should be able to last. I made sure—”

Seonghyeon takes it with trembling hands.

“They’re us,” he says stupidly as if it isn’t obvious.

Keonho nods nervously. “Yeah.”

For a second, Seonghyeon just stares. Then he laughs softly, cheeks flushed hot.

“I love it, Keonho.”

The elf’s ears go red instantly.

Before he can respond, voices call out nearby.

“Seonghyeon!!”

He turns his head to where the voices are coming from, and he spots three elves rushing over. James arrives first, panting, holding a neatly wrapped parcel. Martin follows, grinning, and Juhoon trails behind with something small in his hands.

“You didn’t think you’d be leaving without us coming to say goodbye, did you?” Martin says, plopping down beside Seonghyeon, grinning. He throws an arm around his shoulder, giving him a side hug.

Then, there are more hugs directed at him. Warm, tight, overwhelmingly kind. Three gifts are pressed into Seonghyeon’s arms, and the elves all sit around him.

Seonghyeon feels his heart swell at the love of the people he’s known for less than a week showing him more love than he’d expected.

“Keonho, why would you just give your present unwrapped to Seonghyeon?” James frowns, speaking in their elf language. Seonghyeon is too grateful to even care at this point. “You can’t even make it a surprise?”

“I got lazy. Besides, it’s better to be straightforward. Wrapping gifts is bothersome.” Keonho says, yawning lazily.

Juhoon snorts. “That’s because you don’t know how to wrap gifts.”

“I know how,” Keonho protests weakly. “I just… don’t like doing it.”

“That’s what people who don’t know how to say!” Martin throws his head back, laughing.

Keonho opens his mouth to argue, then stops. His gaze drifts back to Seonghyeon, who’s basking in a conversation he can’t understand. Something soft settles in his expression, fond and a little helpless.

Seonghyeon’s ears burn at the heavy gaze. And James must have noticed because he clears his throat loudly.

“Well!” he says, standing up and brushing snow from his coat. “It’s Christmas Eve. We can’t just sit here all day.”

Then he looks at Seonghyeon with a huge grin.

“Let’s go to the town district!”

The group arrives at the town district moments later, with James leading the way, Martin and Juhoon in the middle, and Keonho and Seonghyeon at the back. They walk together through the town district, lanterns glowing warmly against the endless night sky. Snow crunches beneath their boots, and Seonghyeon has never felt more at home.

Elves pass by with cheerful waves and laughter, some coming up to wish Seonghyeon a Merry Christmas like he belongs here.

With them.

In the North Pole.

He doesn’t dwell on that thought for too long.

Keonho stays glued to his side the entire tour around the town district.

He points things out. There’s a bakery that never closes, a bellmaker’s shop that rings on it’s own and sometimes it gets on his nerves, a tiny town square where elves gather to sing on Christmas morning as a tradition. After that, they hold up festive celebrations, full of snack booths and activities to do.

Seonghyeon listens to Keonho’s words, commits everything to memory, because it feels important to listen. 

He doesn’t know when, or if, he’ll ever see this place again.

As they reach a souvenir shop at the very end of the row of shops, they pass by beneath a low arch strung with greenery and small silver bells.

“Ohh,” Martin says, looking up. “A mistletoe.”

Then, paying it no mind, Martin enters the souvenir shop, with Juhoon in tow, talking about the interesting souvenirs. James doesn’t say anything either, but the smile he gives Seonghyeon is knowing and kind.

…There’s no way James knows too. Seonghyeon’s face burns at the realisation. 

James disappears into the shop, leaving both of them outside, standing under the mistletoe.

Keonho’s ears are red before Seonghyeon even speaks.

“I— humans usually—” Keonho starts, then stops. A nervous laugh escapes his lips. “You don’t have to. It’s just a human tradition, right? So—”

Seonghyeon huffs out a laugh, and steps closer.

Keonho freezes.

“I know, Keonho,” he says softly. “But I want to.”

Keonho’s breath stutters.

Seonghyeon steps closer until their faces are inches apart, and Keonho’s hands fly up to grip his arms, and he can feel him shaking. 

“Are you nervous?” He laughs.

Keonho scowls at him.

“You gave me a gift,” Seonghyeon continues despite the lack of a response. “So, I think it’s fair I give you one too. A human gift.”

He leans in, and he can hear Keonho gasp.

The kiss is gentle and brief, and so much warmer than Seonghyeon thought it would be. His lips brush Keonho’s gently, careful like the elf might get hurt if he pressed too hard. He’s pretty sure elves don’t have any kissing experiences too, so Seonghyeon tries to take the lead for now.

Keonho’s hands eventually move down to hold his hips, and Seonghyeon forgets how to breathe entirely.

When they part, his ears are fully red again, eyes bright and stunned.

“You humans have weird traditions,” Keonho murmurs, and Seonghyeon laughs, throwing his head back. “...I like it.”

Seonghyeon smiles in return, holding onto Keonho’s hands. “Yeah, me too.”

Eventually, the time to leave comes.

Martin leads him to the edge of town where Santa’s sleigh waits in the distance, lights glowing softly. Snow continues to fall, steady and endless, like the first time Seonghyeon had been here.

He hasn’t seen Santa yet, and he’s… nervous.

It’s not so often that you get to meet the awesome fairytale figure who practically runs childhood dreams.

Seonghyeon sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. In his coat pocket sits the snow globe Keonho has given him, and the rest of the presents Martin and the others gave him are loaded onto Santa’s sleigh.

Keonho suddenly pulls him into a hug, catching him off guard. He relaxes into the embrace, and he honestly feels like Keonho is hugging him like he’s trying to memorize the shape of him.

It makes his heart squeeze a little.

“Stay safe,” Keonho whispers, bumping his head against his. "And, don't forget me."

Seonghyeon chuckles, the sound lost in the winter night.

“Do you think I’ll forget you?”

The look Keonho gives him is sad and knowing.

“Of course, you won’t.”

When they finally let go, Seonghyeon gives him a surprise peck on the lips, and enjoys the thrill of watching the elf’s ears go red in real time. He waves goodbye to Martin, James and Juhoon who are standing somewhere in the back, giggling at Keonho who looks like he’s malfunctioning.

He steps out into the snow, glancing at the sleigh. 

Empty.

When he looks back in confusion, Santa’s Workshop is gone.

Keonho and the others are nowhere to be seen.

His blood goes cold, but a deep voice interrupts his panic—

—warm, amused, and unmistakably kind.

“Easy there, kid.”

Seonghyeon whirls around.

Santa Claus stands a few steps away, tall and broad, his red coat trimmed with frost and starlight. His beard is thick and white, eyes crinkled with mirth, but there’s something ancient behind them too. The sleigh rests behind him now, real and solid, reindeers snorting softly as bells chime. Seonghyeon even spots the famous Rudolf the Reindeer with the bright red nose at the very front of the sleigh, and he can’t believe this is happening right now.

His heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

“Oh, uh—” He bows on instinct, then immediately straightens, flustered. “Um, hello.”

Santa chuckles, the sound deep and gentle, like snow settling on rooftops. He looks exactly as Seonghyeon imagines him to be. “That’s usually how it goes the first time. Rest easy, child.” He gestures to the sleigh. “Come on. No need to stand out in the cold.”

Seonghyeon hesitates, then walks closer, boots crunching in the snow. Up close, Santa smells faintly of pine and warmth, exactly like fireplaces and winter mornings.

It’s a familiar feeling.

“You are Seonghyeon, yes?” Santa says, but it sounds like confirmation rather than a question.

“Yes, sir,” Seonghyeon replies. “Just Seonghyeon is fine.”

Santa grins. “That’s what I like to hear. And please, call me ‘Santa’.”

Seonghyeon nods awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. They stand beside the sleigh together for a moment. He glances at it, then back at Santa, nerves bubbling again.

“Uh, thank you,” he says quietly. “For letting me stay. Everyone was… really kind to me.”

Santa hums, folding his hands over his belt. “I have heard. Not many humans like you get to see the North Pole the way you did.”

Seonghyeon smiles faintly, the memories rushing in. “I just think… I got lucky.”

His fingers brush his coat pocket without thinking.

“Oh?” Santa’s gaze follows the movement. “What have you got there?”

Seonghyeon hesitates, then pulls it out carefully.

The snowglobe glimmers in his palm, tiny Northern Lights shimmering softly inside. He turns it so Santa can see it clearly— two small wooden figures beneath painted skies, sitting by side, artificial snow falling all round them.

Santa’s expression softens.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “That is a good one, child.”

Keonho made it, Seonghyeon almost says out loud. He bites it back, smiling instead.

“It’s from…” He pauses, considering his words. “...someone important.”

“I can see that,” Santa replies with kindness. “It looks like it has been made with love.”

Seonghyeon studies the globe for a second longer, then looks up. “Can I— um. Is it okay if I bring this with me?”

For a brief moment, Santa says nothing. Snow falls between them, slow and patient. He knows the rules. North Pole magic doesn’t cross worlds freely. Memories will fade as humans leave the realm, and unregulated gifts such as this one cannot pass through, and will automatically disappear once they cross borders.

But Santa also sees the way Seonghyeon is holding the snowglobe.

Like it’s something that matters the most.

Santa has given so many gifts throughout his entire life. Why should he not let this one exception pass? Why should he rip this kind human of his happiness?

Santa smiles.

“Of course, kid,” he says warmly. “A gift is a gift.”

Relief floods Seonghyeon’s face instantly. “Really? Thank you so much.”

“Really.” Santa winks. “Just keep it safe.”

“I will,” Seonghyeon promises, and he hugs the snowglobe to his chest for a moment before tucking it back into his pocket. “And, uh, the other gifts my friends gave me— am I able to bring home those too?”

“Without a doubt,” Santa says, smiling. He gestures toward the sleigh. “Ready to head home, child?”

Seonghyeon nods, then pauses.

“...It’s my first time meeting you,” he says suddenly.

Santa laughs, a rich sound. “Likewise.”

“I’m sorry if I caused any trouble,” Seonghyeon says sheepishly.

“You did not,” Santa replies, eyes crinkling with warmth and mirth. “I think…” He looks up at the night sky, smiling. “You reminded us why we do this.”

Seonghyeon doesn’t quite understand, but his chest warms anyway.

Santa helps him up onto the sleigh, settling him among the presents. The reindeers stamp their hooves, eager to take off. The snow starts to thicken then, the air shimmering faintly with magic.

As Santa takes the reins, Seonghyeon looks back once more.

There’s nothing behind them now but open snow and sky.

Still, his fingers curl around the snowglobe in his pocket.

Bells start to ring, and Santa’s laugh fills the night air.

The sleigh lifts.

Seonghyeon wakes up with a startle.

He’s in his bed, his limbs twisted around his blankets. He yawns, sitting up. Morning sunlight filters through his curtains. His body feels exhausted in the best way, like he’s slept for days. Snow dusts the windowsill outside, untouched.

It feels like he’s slept forever. But when he checks his phone, it’s the morning of Christmas.

“...Weird,” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes.

As he turns toward his nightstand, something greets him.

A snowglobe sits neatly on his nightstand.

Seonghyeon frowns.

“What is this?”

He picks it up, shaking it gently. Miniature snow falls, and there are two tiny wooden figures sitting beneath shimmering Northern Lights. His heart skips for reasons he can’t explain. 

“Did I buy this…?” he mutters.

And if he looks closely enough, one of the figures look like—

The door to his room swings wide open.

“Eom Seonghyeon!!” A familiar voice calls out in a singsong tone. “Come on, hurry up! It’s Christmas! We need to open our presents now!”

Seonghyeon looks up.

Keonho stands there, hair messy, wearing a ridiculous Christmas sweater with an elf image printed on it. The boy grins brightly. Then, he hears James, Martin and Juhoon’s voices echo faintly from downstairs.

“Hyeon? You coming?”

Seonghyeon stares at him for a long second.

Then, he smiles, warmth blooming in his chest, confusion slipping away like a dream.

“Yeah,” he says, setting the snowglobe down. “I’m coming.”