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Jihoon hates winter.
Winter is cold, and he thinks that’s, perhaps, the biggest reason why he hates winter. He hates how it’s inconvenient to head anywhere because snow gets piled up outside and it’s hard to walk around. He doesn’t understand how people can enjoy going out to have fun whenever the winter months come around-- all Jihoon wants to do is to stay in the comforts of his room, wrapped in countless blankets and sipping on cups of hot tea.
He hears people talk about how much they like layering clothes during this time of the year: how they choose between the coats and the jackets; and the shirts underneath the sweaters. And Jihoon wonders, honestly, what the point is when people are only going to notice what you’re wearing on the outside? He hates how he has to wear thick clothing so that he’s able to stay warm when he’s walking out on the streets, but when he enters a shop, it’ll suddenly feel like he’s back in the Busan summer.
“Yah,” a voice says from Jihoon’s side. He doesn’t need to turn his head to be able to tell who it is, because there’s only one person that would still be by his side, even though he’s grumpy as hell in winter. “Let’s head out today.”
“What, no ,” Jihoon spits out immediately. It’s right in the peak of winter -- the cold air bites at him even in his room, and he doesn’t even want to imagine how it’d be like outside. “You know I hate winter. Why would I want to go out with you, Park Woojin?!”
Woojin raises his hand to place a single finger on Jihoon’s forehead and pushes it back. “Because I’m your boyfriend and I want to go out with you.”
Jihoon flushes. He hates how his cheeks turn red so easily in the cold, and how Woojin always uses it to his advantage. Woojin always says the right words that make Jihoon’s cheeks burn, and he hates how smug Woojin is whenever he sees Jihoon’s blush, “Look, after years of dating, you still blush for me.”
But the blankets that surround him are a force to be reckoned with, and he finds it hard to relent. He doesn’t want to escape the blanket fort that he has built, even moreso when he looks past Woojin, to the window. Now, he definitely doesn’t want to leave his spot. “No, I’m fine here, thank you very much.”
He sees Woojin sigh, but there’s still a fiery determination burning in his eyes. Woojin always compliments his eyes, saying how he always gets trapped by the galaxy that his eyes are, but Jihoon thinks that Woojin’s eyes are as equally beautiful. He loves the way they burn with passion; the glint of fervour present whenever he’s dancing, on stage, and when he’s with Jihoon.
“I don’t care, you’re going out with me,” Woojin says simply, pulling himself out of the blanket fort that he and Jihoon are trapped in. Jihoon thinks that Woojin reads him like a book-- no matter how much Jihoon whines and complains about how much he hates Woojin, Woojin knows that there’s so much adoration and love that’s hidden underneath his words. This is also why Jihoon reaches out the moment Woojin leaves-- he feels like a moth attracted to the light that is Park Woojin.
Jihoon sighs, knowing that Woojin’s scheme had worked in forcing him to get out of bed, out of their blanket fort, and into the frigid winter air. He cringes slightly when his feet touch the icy cold floors of their shared apartment, and he turns to Woojin, and jumps onto his back. There’s no need for words between them, just actions and gazes because there’s so much constancy, so much familiarity in their relationship. Woojin’s face doesn’t even change the moment Jihoon jumps onto him, merely shifting to accommodate Jihoon better like as if they were puzzle pieces that were meant to be like this.
“So where are we going?” Jihoon asks, chin digging into Woojin’s shoulder blade as Woojin walks slowly to where their closet is. He drops Jihoon softly and gently when he’s in front of it and opens the closet to pick out their clothes. There’s a stark contrast in the way they dress: Woojin’s blacks and Jihoon’s colours, and Jihoon thinks, maybe that’s why they are together-- because opposites attract.
“I just wanted to go on a date with you,” Woojin states, gaze steely as he picks out clothes for the both of them to wear. Jihoon doesn’t understand how Park Woojin works. He’s so shy about affection when the both of them are out with their friends, but when they are alone, he says all these words with nothing but sheer confidence; and it’s a soft confidence that just implies how much love and trust Woojin has in the both of them. Woojin turns to look at Jihoon after a moment’s pause, pushing a black hoodie into Jihoon’s arms, “Wear these.”
Jihoon knows that it’s one of Woojin’s favourite hoodies-- it’s slightly big on Woojin, and it will be even bigger on Jihoon. He knows that clothes sharing is definitely one of Woojin’s kinks, that he loves to see Jihoon in his clothes, and Jihoon doesn’t want to admit it but he also does like wearing Woojin’s clothes. He doesn’t want to admit how he sniffs the edges of the clothes and relishes in the smell of Woojin, Woojin, Woojin. It makes him feel comforted, protected, and it’s just a nice feeling that he wants to bathe in.
“Alright, alright,” Jihoon murmurs and he pulls the hoodie over him and starts getting dressed. They don’t say anything, and Jihoon knows better not to say anything-- lest something else erupts and they start getting distracted.
They are at the doorstep of their house when Woojin reaches his hand out, “What are you waiting for? Aren’t you going to hold my hand?”
Outside their house, everything that Jihoon hates hits him like a trainwreck. He’s immediately being impaled by the cold and the biting wind, that Jihoon starts to regret agreeing to come out. But Woojin pauses in his steps, turns to face Jihoon and squeezes his hand, Jihoon feels Woojin’s warmth seep through him-- seep through his veins to reach his heart. He brings Jihoon’s hands up and starts blowing air over them, like as if it’ll help to combat the strong, icy winds.
If winter means that Woojin’s less reserved about public affection, more willing to shower Jihoon in warmth and love, Jihoon thinks, winter isn’t that bad after all. Jihoon pushes his hands away, and their faces are closer than ever-- Jihoon can almost see his own reflection in Woojin’s eyes. He feels the world come to a standstill, like those scenes in cheesy movies, and the sudden gust of wind allows the scent of cashmere to sweep past his nose.
He leans in closer, and presses his lips against Woojin’s. He means for it to be short, quick and intimate but he knows Woojin wants more, from the way he swipes his tongue over his lower lip, licks him and presses closer, like as if they could grow closer.
Winter is cold, but Jihoon thinks, his heart is on fire.
Maybe, winter isn’t so bad, after all.