༺Masterpiece༻

XXXVIII :: Christmas

The evening air was crisp and biting as I buttoned up the jacket of the suit Jimin had given me. It was a perfect fit, tailored with a precision that spoke to how well Jimin knew me. But what made it truly special was the shirt underneath, hand-stitched by Halmeom herself—a piece of home, warmth, and countless memories stitched into every thread.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, adjusting the collar slightly, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nostalgia. The reflection looking back at me felt familiar yet different—older, maybe, but with a heart still brimming with the same anticipation that Christmas always brought. Tonight, however, there was something more to it—a sense of purpose, of sharing these moments with the people I cared about most.

When I stepped out into the hallway, Antonella was already there, looking radiant in the blue A-line silk dress Jimin had picked out for her. The color complemented her so well, bringing out the depth in her eyes and the natural elegance she carried. She caught my eye, and for a moment, her expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"You look beautiful," I told her, my voice genuine, though understated, as I took in the sight of my sister all dressed up, ready for the evening.

"And you look dashing," she replied with a playful grin, giving me an approving nod. "You clean up well."

"I bathe more than you."

Jimin appeared next, lingering in the background. He had chosen to wear an old pair of clothes, something simple and worn but somehow fitting. His usual ease was present, though there was a quiet humility in his choice that spoke volumes. I knew those clothes meant something to him—perhaps memories attached to the fabric, the stitches holding more than just the threads but the essence of who he was.

"Why the old clothes, Hyung?" I asked, curious but not pressing.

He shrugged lightly, his smile easy, as always. "Just felt like keeping it simple tonight," he said, leaving it at that, and I respected his choice, understanding that simplicity often held its own kind of grace.

Y/n emerged last, and when I saw her, my breath caught. The pink floral chiffon dress she wore flowed around her like a whisper, delicate and elegant. The soft colors and intricate patterns seemed to dance in the light, making her look like she had stepped out of a dream. Her eyes found mine, and in them, I saw a reflection of everything I felt—anticipation, warmth, and something deeper, something unspoken.

I keep repeating myself whenever it comes to her. I say the same words, I feel the same way. That is how spellbound I am.

"You’re stunning," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of my words was evident in the way her cheeks flushed ever so slightly, her smile shy yet radiant.

She walked over to me, the scent of her perfume mingling with the faint aroma of the pine tree in the living room, creating a sensory memory I knew I’d carry with me. "And you, Mr. Jeon," she said softly, "look quite handsome yourself."

We gathered our things, and as we headed out the door, the cold air greeted us with a sharp, invigorating chill. The snow crunched beneath our feet, the town glowing with festive lights and decorations, every corner imbued with the spirit of Christmas. It was a night of contrasts—the warmth of the season against the cold winter air, the simplicity of old clothes against the elegance of new dresses, the familiar routine of a movie night made special by the company and the occasion.

The theater was a short walk away yet we took the car for some reason, and as we arrived, the marquee lights cast a warm glow over the snow-dusted street. The movie title shone brightly, reflecting off the frosty windows and drawing us inside, where the warmth of the theater wrapped around us like a welcoming embrace.