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It was 6am, and strange that Jimin was awake.
He did not often get up early, was most days torn from a bundle of covers and heavy sleep. Even with morning flights and rehearsals and an apartment full of noisy youth, he was never used to rising before the sun - was far more comfortable with tangled hair and eyes opening to a fill of midday light. There was so much to tire him, to tire them all. Busy schedules and straining routines, up all night with aching limbs, or up all night with seven laughing and laughing in the living room.
(sometimes there had been midnight hours full of tears and heartache, but not so much now that they were flying.)
So Jimin slept little and late, and never felt guilty for it. Yet now it was before dawn, on a day full of freedom; there were no alarms or managers blaring through the stillness, they had the time to lay quiet and sleep. All there was, was thick snowfall outside the window. He had been drawn from his bed by something, felt so alive and awake despite the dark. Pulling open the blind he had seen the ground blanketed in white, a sky thick with heavy cold and cloud, but stars on the edge of the horizon.
And Jimin could have denied it, could close his eyes and curl up to slumber in hope the snow would remain until he woke again. He blinked as he adjusted to early morning dim, took one last forlorn glance at the rumpled duvet as he turned away, and strode to the closet for warm winter wear. The snow was pure and untouched, and if someone was to press their footprints into it first, he thought it might as well be him.
Creeping down the hallway, trying to slip into his parka as quietly as possible, he paused among the doorways barely visible in the darkness. Because the dorms were new and a space so large, with a room each and more to spare, Jimin could not quite find his bearings. He counted the doorknobs as he padded gently through the hall, coming to a quivering stop in front of a bedroom he might be as familiar with as his own. Only a few weeks in this home, and yet he had been many nights unable to resist coming to knock on this door, to spend time with whom slept inside.
He could walk through the snow with any member and be happy, shiver in the cold just for the sake of being by any of their sides. It was true, perhaps, that waking Jungkook might be impossible, and that it would be cruel to shake Yoongi and Namjoon from sleep when they always had so few hours of it. And though Hoseok would acquiesce to a hand on his face, even if it was 6am, Jimin wanted desire, not compliance. Taehyung would bring a small but loud puppy into the day with him, and Jimin had not crept from his room to have it be futile as barks woke a whole apartment block. That left one choice, he told himself, cursing his uncertainty as he raised a hand to the doorknob.
For, if Jimin had been woken by the snow, it would most probably be because he was barely sleeping anyway. Most of every night he tossed through dreams of wide shoulders and kind eyes, and went to bed hoping he could pull himself away from an image of full lips that flickered behind his eyelids every time they closed. Kim Seokjin had become as much a part of Jimin’s soul as he had been the constant of the soul of their group. What was always a calm embrace had become seconds of his heart shaking, skin burning from the breath that fanned across his neck. A wink midst performance had him fighting away a blush, and days they spent together had Jimin wishing he could hold Seokjin’s hand across the café table… and maybe not let go. He didn’t think he was a fool - and he had sung so many songs about love he was sure he knew the words if not the feeling – but there was a friendship he held dear, and then the unknown that might come after. All he needed was to be sure, first. Sure, so to give himself not halfway, as he and Jin both deserved. Sure, so that then all might be easy.
Watching the snowflakes fall in swirls about Seokjin in the streetlamp light, seeing the warm sunrise glow across his beautiful face, this, Jimin felt, was what would grant him certainty.
He eased open the door. “Seokjin-hyung?” It was no more than a whisper in the dark, and as Jimin glanced around to the bed, to a soft lump under piles of covers, there was only light from the glowing number of a bedside clock. 6:35 am. The time he had spent tentative in the hallway had seeped into what small hours he might spend alone with Seokjin, and sunrise was only an hour away. He reached the window first, drew back the curtain. There was glad relief to see the snow still falling, softer now. As the natural light swam across the room, there was fondness, too, as Jimin took in the sight of a large and graceful body burrowed small in the wide bed.
Before fear could drive him further away, Jimin sprung forwards to gain the closeness he wanted. Needed almost, as his heart threatened to beat from his chest. He reached down over Seokjin’s form and shook his shoulder slightly, swallowed hard as his fingers grazed the collarbones a nightshirt had slid open to reveal. Again he whispered, “Seokjin-hyung?” and after the slightest hesitation, “It’s me, Jimin.”
There was a muffled groan, the covers rustled as a body shifted. Jimin steadied himself with a hand braced on the mattress, just brushing Seokjin’s hair. His heart still leapt as a face turned up towards his, as dark and lovely eyes took him in. With a start, he was aware of how close their faces were, how small and fragile he felt under Seokjin’s waking gaze. (There was a touch of resentment too, that one could look this stunning with mussed tufts of hair and eye bags that were inescapable before 10 am.)
Seokjin rubbed a fist over his eyes, slid them open just a fraction to gaze at Jimin. He ran his fingers up to the sleeve of the parka, and then folded forward, alert. “Jiminie?” He said, with sleep now almost gone, “Is everything alright, why are you dressed?”
It was odd, this role reversal. Most days Jimin was the one whom woke to Seokjin’s cheek pressed close to his own, unable to shift over the weight of a body thrown over his. There would be a voice right down his ear, a laugh, and then strong arms that reach under his arms and pulled. Pulled him into the day, into Seokjin’s smile so bright with amusement. The eldest would use whatever means necessary to rouse his dongsaengs; the hilarious flick of Jungkook’s nipple, a snuggle into Taehyung’s bed. With Jimin it was always playful affection, a rough and tumble that left Seokjin’s cheeks pink with exertion and, caught up in feeling, Jimin desperate for it not to end.
So now, to watch as Seokjin awoke, to gaze at him without barriers, was a new and wonderful blessing. It bubbled inside him, rose up his throat until he had to say, “Hyung, it’s snowing. There’s sunrise and we have a new and full view of the city here. It’s just…lovely. And I thought you might…want to share it with me?” Jimin trailed off at the end, tensing with the thought of what might be read between the lines of his words. It sounded false even to him. The weather was pretty but no longer new to him, since snowless Busan had been left years ago now, and sunrises were there every morning. Seokjin knew well how Jimin had pushed the light of day away in favour of a few hours to remain in the pillows. All that rung true was “the thought of you”, that had laid his heart bare in the freezing morning, and now he was afraid of rejection.
If Seokjin turned back into his bed now, waved him away, he felt this would be the end of it all.
But he didn’t, was kind enough to not even question, and instead flung himself out of bed to make the departure less miserable, and sped to his closet. Jimin trailed behind him in glad relief, heart beginning to beat normally again. He giggled as Seokjin emerged, hair still a mess and dressed in a comical collection of outerwear.
“You’d better hope I forgive you for this.”
And Jimin was falling all over again, for the cute and pouting tone this was said in, for how obviously it was a tease. He would wake Seokjin every morning if this was what it made him, grumpy and adorable and still always wanting to make Jimin laugh.
He did laugh, said, “Hyung! Come on though, we better hurry or we’ll miss the dawn.” and dared to take his arm, pulled them both towards the front door. Seokjin let himself be led, beaming, and Jimin glanced sideways to steady himself on the smile.
They were tucked against each other outside, noses pink and hair already dusted with snowflakes. It was still just barely quiet, the two fighting away sleep even as the whole of Seoul lay awake before them.
There was pink rising on the horizon, and Jimin broke their hushed silence to raise his hand toward it, to take a deep breath in at how much this was surely a beginning. Seokjin lifted his face towards the new morning sun, let it shimmer over his brow. He was pressed so close that his warmth felt a part of them both, blood that ran through both their bloodstreams, hearts that drummed in tandem.
Jimin brought his hand down to his lap, joined it with the other to wring them together and drive away the cold.
“You’re not wearing gloves?” Face close to his, Seokjin looked at his small hands, and then waved one of his larger palms in response, “Me neither. I forgot them in the rush.” He had no heat pack either, Jimin noted with surprise, as he knew, “Hyung, you don’t like the cold though. Do you have pockets?”
“There’s a better solution.” And then he stretched over and took Jimin’s hands in his, spread his long fingers wide and around them. It was so natural, Seokjin’s gentle touch and how well their hands fit together, the sparks as their palms touched. Their shoulders shifted against one another, as Seokjin looked back to the sun. They had danced through the fresh snow when first outside, and still their footprints were the only imperfections of the glittering and blanketed ground. The sunbeams bounced over every snowdrift, the sky shifting from grey through orange and pink, to purple then blue.
In a soft voice, eyes clear and open to the dawn, Seokjin said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Jimin clutched their hands together as tight as he could, revelled in the feel of Seokjin’s skin against his own. He had not one care for the sun, did not notice how it flickered at the edge of his sight. His gaze was stuck, reverent, to the curve of lips in profile, of how dark hair was lit with golden highlights. Seokjin’s skin was dewy, his eyes were bright, and there was a haze of understanding clouding Jimin’s senses. He let out a shaking breath, half laugh and half wonder, prayed that Seokjin, ethereal and (for this moment) only his to enjoy the sight of, might not disappear. The sunrise was dreamlike, the snow a lover’s canvas.
He did not drag his eyes away, just pressed closer and replied, “Yes hyung, beautiful.”
A little while later, they strolled back towards the apartment. It was if the silence had been theirs for the dawn, and now the world was alive and awake again, the city of cars and sirens and morning people weaving through it.
They did not discuss why their fingers were still intertwined, why neither had wished or asked to be released. Jimin was as wide-awake as he could ever remember being this early, giddy on his bright sun that was more the man beside him than any light coming from the sky.
When they were before the door, Seokjin stilled and faced him, a grin just rising on the edge of his lips. He swung their hands between them, looked deep into Jimin’s eyes.
“Jiminie, you know I hate the cold. I’ve seen snow many times and my sunrises have yet to run out.” He shifted closer, eyes burning so that they might ignite Jimin’s heart as well. “So I don’t like winter mornings and how tired I will look today, and I especially don’t like that you thought you couldn’t be honest with me.”
Seokjin was beaming now, and Jimin’s smile lit up in response. That hope of a beginning rose up the greater.
“Just ask me next time Jiminie, because you know what I don’t like. And because that doesn’t matter, when what I like is you.”