It's been a while.

It often took a lot to make JunYu contemplate, but the factors that triggered his thoughtful mood was this time, instantaneous. As he watched blocks of silver clouds sprinkle lazy snowflakes through the window, he couldn't help but feel the chill outdoors. The heater was on, the house was rowdy, but his mind was soaring; through the neon lights, glittering trees, scattered torn wrapping paper, wrinkled stockings, empty eggnog glasses and knitted scarves. He blinked and turned to glance at his household. His cousin, HyunA was there, along with his college friends, his neighbours Gikwang, and Hyunseung. His parents would be arriving tomorrow. It was funny, because a week before, he would have been worried about telling his parents about the units. About revealing his status as a human secret keeper to a group of robots trying to save their own planet. About how they've been living with him for almost a year and how he'd grown to get used to them.

He had forgotten how to wake up without the sound of Himchan muttering in his sleep, how to imagine his day starting without tearing on his socks and finding that someone had mismatched them, fighting for his share at the breakfast table when Daehyun woke up and joined them, stopping Jongup from asking inadequate questions when he showered (and generally keeping Jongup out of the bathroom when he showered), or running straight to school without worrying about Eunchae having someone to walk with to high school. He had forgotten how to get through without worrying about Youngjae overworking in his workshop, or Himchan blowing up their kitchen with his manic soup experiments in that stinking apron that wouldn't disappear, or Daehyun getting into a playfight with Jongup and ending up crying, or Zelo clearing up the refridgerator. He even thought of Ririkimi when in school.

That's why this particular day, everything felt wrong.

He woke up to nothing, just nothing.

He woke up to a total, complete silence. No rhythmic breathing, no rustling of fabric over flesh, no low murmur in slumber. He woke up to the kind of darkness where he couldn't see his own fingers, even when he stretched them over and let them feel over the sheets of the unmade mattress next to his bed. It had been left the way the units had last left them, unmade and slept in, but their scent was gone.

The units had been missing for a week now. Their spaceships were gone, and so were the gadgets they always left lying around. They had left the clothes Junyu left them behind. Nothing. Nothing was forgotten.

The breakfast table seemed too wide for two people, and as Junyu watched Eunchae nibble at her bread in silence, he felt too ill to eat. He took half a cup of coffee and tried to smile. Because hey, it was Christmas Day.

Eunchae wasn't as enthusiastic in unwrapping her gift as she was last year. There were loads for both siblings, sent from adoring friends and relatives, but the house was too empty for them to care. Even as it started to pile with people, it felt cold and barren. Twice, Junyu caught Eunchae tearing up as she stared at the glowing star, perched on the fig tree at the center of the room.

That night, JunYu held a mistletoe over her as she lay in bed, well tucked in, and just as he had done all his life every Christmas, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Happy X-mas, sissy."

This year, she burst into hot tears.

As he sat there in the dark, rubbing his crying sister's shoulder as he held her in his arms, he fought the urge to do the same. But her racking sobs sent a solitary tear free.

This Christmas, the house was packed – but it was bare.

JunYu walked over to the couch after Eunchae had gone to sleep that night, and flopped onto it. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and reached out for the remote control. It wasn't on the handle. Sighing, he reached into the setee and d around for it. The house was really empty now, except for them two.

"It's just a dream," JunYu whispered, as his hands absentmindedly felt between the fabric, "they're just part of a really, really long dream."

But not long enough for him.

Then, his fingers clasped around something cold. He let them curl over it and pulled it out.

It was Yongguk's ring.