❛❛ That tree isn’t even going to fit in the house! Why did you buy it without measuring it first? ❜❜
★ holiday sentence startersearly december 2016.
( tw !! knives )
“I’m sorry— you said, ‘wonnie! please get me a tree; I don’t have time with work to get one before the best ones sell out!’ and I took the time out of my day to do a good deed and go and get you one— and you complain! who are you— me?!” he huffs, balancing the rather large tree against his hip. “you didn’t give me a measurements either; how was I supposed to know you lived in a fucking hobbit house— though maybe by your height, I should’ve known.” he snickers. would he ever stop making tasteless jokes about her height? probably not. just like he’ll never stop calling sukjin old; it’s just too comfortable of a safety net. (and the amusement just never wears off for him, oddly enough.)
“listen, I’ll fix it; do you have a pruner?” her blank stare says it all. “any kind of industrial cutters?” absolutely nothing. “…thick gloves?” finally, her features light up and wonwoo breathes a sigh of relief. if he’s going to be pulling this tree apart half with his bare hands, at least he’ll have a little protection.
she rushes back in, and he feels his patience drop instantaneously. “I meant— like gardening gloves, or driving gloves, not— fucking mittens.”
“they’re not—”
“yeah, yeah; I know. you at least have scissors, right?” hope is written all over his expression, and it’s not something he expresses too often in her, or anyone’s, company, but it’s hard to control when, the way things are going, it’s very likely that whatever god is up above hates him with a burning passion and taeyeon conveniently doesn’t even have the most basic cutting tool. he’s not about to hedge his bets cutting the tree with a knife, not when his arms will be tangled up inside the branches, too.
thankfully, she returns with scissors in hand — and they’re not nail clippers either, so he’s grateful — and he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work. half an hour passes quickly, with the gentle lull of christmas music in the background and knowing he’ll be returning home soon to something he’s waited all day to see, and once he’s tidied up the last branch, he takes a step back and admires his work.
“you owe me.”
(but it’s worth it, he supposes. she looks happier than he’s ever seen her, and isn’t that the point of christmas, after all?)













