Archive of Our Own

Changmin tries to wiggle his toes, and then winces.

Under three layers of socks, they’re struggling. And still somehow freezing. He reaches for his phone, and considers calling his flatmate. It had been Chanhee who had promised to buy extra blankets when they’d first moved into this apartment, and then it had been Changmin, and then it had been Chanhee again. Needless to say, responsibility is a ping-pong ball and the match between them is still yet to end. Before he knew it, the year was coming to an end, and it was already winter.

He remembers that Chanhee is probably on a plane right now, comfortably seated between not one, but two warm boyfriends. Changmin huffs. He sure could use a warm boyfriend right now. Or a girlfriend. Or just, anyone who wouldn’t mind holding his numb fingers. He isn’t picky, just cold, and admittedly a little lonely right now.

To be fair, Chanhee had offered to bring him along on their trip. But Changmin didn’t want to impose on a clearly romantic getaway they’d been planning for months. Nor did he want to be a fourth-wheel.

The lack of blankets wouldn’t be so bad, if it didn’t wake him up at some ungodly hour to realise the power was out, and the apartment was no longer toasty. Even if he were to go out to buy blankets right now, there are no stores open to fit his needs. His phone buzzes in his hands and he’s realised he’s sent Chanhee some obscure emoticon.

choi chani
??? changmin
ji changmin? wtf is that

When he doesn’t reply, he’s immediately hit with a facetime request.

“Hey,” Changmin greets, slightly contrite, when he’s met with Chanhee’s face. The lighting is too bright and the background noise is high. “Are you at the airport? It’s just an ant, by the way. I sent it by accident, it was in my recently used emoticons.”

“Connecting flight. Wait, an ant? Why would that b—” Chanhee looks confused but shakes his head. “Nevermind that. Why were you about to text me?”

The previous flight probably exhausted him, and here he is, on the phone. Changmin presses his lips together, guilt churning his gut. “I wasn’t.”

“But you considered it.” Chanhee’s face comes closer to the phone. “Why are our lights flickering?”

Changmin turns the camera to show him the lone candle on the coffee table.

“Is the power out? Oh, Changmin, sweetie, you must be freezing.”

He hates feeling helpless, and even worse, hates letting such feelings affect his friend. Especially when Chanhee is miles away and should be enjoying his holidays.

“Just appreciating our festive candles, y’know,” Changmin says, but Chanhee is frowning oh-so-sadly. He should’ve never picked up the call. “I’m sure the power will come back soon.”

“I should’ve bought the blankets when you asked me.”

“No! No, it’s okay,” Changmin assures, just as another face pops in frame next to Chanhee. “Oh. Hello, hyung.”

Younghoon smiles at him, in just his airport clothes and no symptoms of being affected by the winter chill. Changmin is so jealous right now. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Changmin tries not to scoff. Chanhee and his boyfriends are like three peas in a pod, he’s sure they have both been eavesdropping right from the beginning.

“Doesn’t Sunwoo also live in that building?” he asks, and Changmin’s nerves spike up for no reason. “He might have some extra blankets.”

“I,” Changmin starts, and his thoughts seem to die before they can make it to his tongue. “I don’t know him well enough to—”

“Bullshit.” Now Jaehyun is squeezing himself into view. “You’ve known him since before you and Chanhee moved there. And you’ve lived there for a year now.”

“I don’t know, guys,” Changmin says, absolutely despising the way Jaehyun grins at that. Like he knows something the others don’t. “Look, I don’t want to inconvenience him.”

“Well, I do,” Jaehyun eggs on, and all his teasing disappears when Changmin’s teeth chatter. “You’re literally dying. Should I call him for you?”

Jaehyun knows too much. He can’t risk any of it spilling to the wrong person.

“No!” Changmin exclaims, sitting right up. His friends stare in concern at the outburst, and he tries to play it off with a laugh. It comes out more nervous than he would’ve liked. “I can go downstairs right now. Thanks for your advice, please enjoy Germany. Bye bye lovebirds!”

And then he promptly hangs up, groaning into the couch cushions.

Because Jaehyun does know something the rest of them don’t.

He’d clocked it right away during their housewarming party, when Changmin had grown wide-eyed and uncharacteristically jittery at Sunwoo’s touch. Upon interrogation, he’d argued that losing his step and then being caught by the waist is unfairly romantic in its nature, and got a sceptical look in return. A couple of weeks later, he’d burst open with a confession he’d been choking down for nearly two months. Jaehyun had laughed in his face of course, and then pulled him into a hug. Changmin had sworn him to secrecy ever since.

It doesn’t help that Sunwoo gets along with just about anyone, falling easily into jokes and silly banter. They’ve grown to be solid friends, and the other man’s charm doesn’t go wasted on Changmin. It’s not quite the laughing matter anymore, now that he’s come to terms with the fluttery feeling in his chest whenever Sunwoo casually drops him a pick-up line and a cheesy grin with zero shame. 

To put it simply, the stress of asking Sunwoo for help is the last thing he needs right now. And no amount of frostbite can make him change his mind.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

Sunwoo blinks, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He squints at Changmin in confusion, and then absentmindedly scratches his arm like that’ll help. He fishes out his phone from his pocket and makes a face when the glare hits him. He glances back out the door.

 “Good morning, you said? I know it’s the AM, but this is basically night time.”

His hair sticks up in odd places, and his t-shirt is wrinkled beyond saving. And Changmin’s brain has the gall to not only think he looks cute, but also that he looks so, so, unfairly good.

He dispels the thought and rubs his hands together. “Answer my question.”

“Yes, I do have extra blankets,” Sunwoo says, and then looks confused at how relieved he seems at this. Concerned even. “Changminie, are you alright?”

It’s only when he’s being pulled inside, does he realise how cold the hallway was. Sunwoo guides him to the kitchen and sits him down on a chair. Changmin can’t really focus on much but the lingering feeling of Sunwoo’s hands on his shoulders. Clearly, the seasonal romcom he’d given a try has gone to his head. This is why he doesn’t watch that bullshit.

“Here.”

A steaming mug of something is placed in front of him. And Changmin, being incapable of forming a normal sentence around him, defaults to the snarky tone that seems to show up when they’re together. “Coffee? At this time of the night? Are you insane?”

Sunwoo scoffs, pointing at him. “Bold words from the guy who woke me up at this hour.”

Changmin’s mood deflates into something milder. “I’m sorry.”

Sunwoo lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Also, it’s chamomile. It’ll knock you out right after.”

He hadn’t guessed Sunwoo would be a herbal tea kind of guy—last time Changmin had offered him some tea he’d scrunched up his nose and asked if he was secretly seventy years old. But before he can inquire, the other is gone, leaving Changmin to sip on the drink by himself. When he returns, Changmin can now feel his fingertips again.

“Warmed up?” Sunwoo asks. He’s got two blankets tucked under his arm. One thick, and the other fuzzy. “Sorry, these are all I can spare.”

“That’s plenty,” Changmin tells him. He downs the rest of the drink in a hurry and stands to take the blankets from Sunwoo. “Sorry again about this.”

Sunwoo stares at him in thought. “Odd way to say thank you, but I’ll take it.”

“Thank you,” Changmin corrects, and frowns when Sunwoo only gives him one of the blankets. He gets his answer when Sunwoo follows him to the door, and eventually, all the way upstairs. Once Changmin is back in, blankets piled safely on the couch, Sunwoo hesitates at the door frame.

“Do you have a pen?” he asks. Changmin is puzzled but finds the closest thing to them—a purple marker on the coffee table. Sunwoo takes it and then gestures for his hand.

“What are you doing?” Changmin questions, watching Sunwoo’s fingers circle his wrist and turn his palm up. His reaction is belated when the felt-tip of the marker hits his skin. “What the heck!”

But Sunwoo is too quick. He hands the marker back to him, and numerical digits are scribbled big and bold from his forearm down to his palm. They both know Changmin already has his number, so he doesn’t know what all this is about. If this is Sunwoo’s way of being funny, he has to reluctantly admit it’s working.

Or maybe you’re just down bad , says a voice in his head. It starts cackling in a very Jaehyun-eqsue fashion.

“Call me if you need anything,” Sunwoo says with a nod, clearly pleased with his little joke. He’s still holding Changmin’s wrist. He can probably feel Changmin’s pulse as it quickens.

“Didn’t know you wanted me to call you that bad,” Changmin says under his breath, wiggling his hand out of his grasp.

Sunwoo laughs quietly, and it’s like a pocketful of warmth on this winter morning. He may not even need the blankets. God, Changmin needs to get a grip.

“No, really,” Sunwoo tells him. He’s looking at Changmin more seriously now. “Chanhee will murder me if he comes home to you frozen.” He raises a hand when Changmin opens his mouth to rebut. “But also I… would hate for you to be cold. So yeah, uh, call me.”

Sunwoo doesn’t give him time to reply, shaking his hand and wishing him goodnight before disappearing back downstairs. Changmin’s fingers begin to go cold again and he takes it as his cue to shut the door.

Changmin blinks. Sunwoo hadn’t even put on any extra layers.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

“I need to borrow the bl—”

His words get cut short when Sunwoo steps aside. He gestures, welcoming him in. Changmin can only stare blankly.

“Probably warmer in here,” Sunwoo explains, the corners of his mouth lifted up ever so slightly. It makes Changmin’s stomach do a funny little flip. “Our floor still has electricity.”

When Changmin doesn’t reply, Sunwoo’s smile grows wider. “I have heating .”

They’ve hung out before, one-on-one, without Chanhee as a buffer. They’re past two guys connected by a mutual companion. They’re… friends, Changmin wants to say. But friends don’t have him feeling like this.

Like his skin is about to burst into flames if he gets too close to Sunwoo.

He takes a step inside, welcoming the warmth. This is a rare occurrence, and it probably won’t happen again, right?

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

It happens again. And again. And again .

Changmin doesn’t understand why it’s only happening to the top half of their building. For the most part, it’s a mild inconvenience. There is still heating at work, so he tries to spend as much of his day there as he can. This way, the only time he really needs the blankets is if there’s an outage while he’s sleeping. Chanhee will kill him if he ever finds out about the cold showers, though.

Sunwoo gets increasingly more worried every time Changmin returns the blankets, fluffy and smelling of fabric softener. He insists Changmin keep them for the rest of winter, claiming it’d be super embarrassing if he has to cite ‘lack of blankets’ as Changmin’s demise in his eulogy. Changmin insists otherwise, and more often than not, it bites him in the ass when the power goes out again.

“Take care of yourself, silly,” Sunwoo would eventually say, handing the blankets right back.

It becomes a real problem when Changmin’s boss begs him to take an earlier leave than everyone else and just use up his remaining vacation days. Which is to say, all of them. He hasn’t taken a day off this year except when he got food poisoning. Chanhee calls him a workaholic; Changmin likes to think he’s just very efficient. He’d welcome the break a lot more if his apartment wasn’t chilly half the time.

Sunwoo’s reaction is a laugh so loud he can hear it even when he holds the phone away from his ear. Perhaps even through the flooring.

“My place is warm,” he says, and the audible smile in his voice does something annoying to Changmin, his heart liquefying. Maybe if he holds up the phone long enough, Sunwoo’s voice can melt away the frost in his apartment too. “Let’s hang out.”

“Tempting,” Changmin says dryly, like a liar, “but I have better things to do.”

“Oh yeah? Like trying to stay warm? I can hear you, y’know. The two hundred jumping jacks from yesterday were very impressive, I must say.”

Changmin resists the urge to scream or hang up. Neither of those things would deter Sunwoo from gleefully having the last word.

“Come over. I’m serious.” There’s a pause and Changmin thinks he’s forgotten to end the call. “We don’t even have to hang out, just come over. Stay warm.”

Begrudgingly he does; it’s not like he has much planned for the holidays anyway. But he makes sure to always return home in time for bed, not wanting to inconvenience the poor guy further. He’s sure Sunwoo needs his alone time too. 

There comes a point where Sunwoo stops trying to convince him to keep the blankets, but instead finds a way for him to stay longer each time. Changmin pops downstairs to use the microwave, and Sunwoo asks him to stay for dinner. One evening, the power cuts out mid laundry cycle, and he rushes in with an armful of sopping clothes. Sunwoo had roped him into watching some terrible holiday rom-com, claiming he should use the dryer too. One night, Changmin needs to charge his phone, Sunwoo clicks his tongue, but he receives a warm drink for his wait. 

“How do you still have so much of this stuff?” Changmin asks, as he brews another cup of chamomile tea. Changmin always reasons it’d be a waste to not drink it. “I feel like I’m the only one drinking this.”

“You are,” Sunwoo says, not looking at him. “You once recommended this for sleepless nights, so I bought some to give you. I just keep forgetting to do that last part.”

Changmin doesn’t know what to make of this information. All he’s pieced together is that Sunwoo had thought of him during something mundane as grocery shopping. And that he’d for some reason remembered some piece of advice Changmin had given eons ago. That’s… a friendly sort of thing to do, right? Like him remembering Chanhee’s favourite yogurt flavour, or something.

“Now, I just keep it here so you have a reason to come running.”

Changmin stills, wondering if he’s mishearing. “Excuse me?”

Sunwoo places the cup closer to him on the kitchen counter. “So come over often, okay?”

And Sunwoo’s pink dusted cheeks would be so easy to make fun of, if they weren’t currently matching Changmin’s too.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

Changmin likes taking walks. Changmin also likes the snow. What he doesn’t like is taking walks when there is snow falling down on him. It’s pretty until he realises it’s all coming down way too heavy, and that he’s still got much of the walk ahead of him. Meanwhile, the fluffy white that had clung to him has melted through his clothes, and he’s left with layers of wet fabric all over him.

Sunwoo’s waving goodbye to a delivery guy when Changmin trudges to the building’s entrance.

Of course, they run into each other when Changmin looks like he’s gone for a swim fully dressed. Of course, Sunwoo happens to look effortlessly gorgeous on this occasion, too. It’s too early for him to be looking like this. Changmin cannot stand him and his handsome, minimal-layer-wearing ass.

“Had a package to send to my mother,” Changmin explains, when Sunwoo keeps staring at him in question. The wait for the lift to reach the ground floor could not be longer.

“And what, did you walk all the way to Cheongju to personally deliver it? In a snowstorm?”

The laugh punches its way out of him before Changmin can control it. When he peeks at Sunwoo, there’s a satisfied curve to his mouth.

“No, just the post office,” Changmin replies, and then shrugs. “It’s environmentally conscious to walk.”

He nudges Changmin’s foot with his own. “Did the power come back for your floor?”

Changmin sighs ruefully. “No. We are cursed.”

“Don’t you dare take a cold shower after this,” Sunwoo says, when Changmin pulls away wet layers from his body in disgust. “Shower at mine instead.”

Changmin’s reply is interrupted by the sound of the lift doors opening. He can only gape at the back of Sunwoo’s head when he walks in first.

“Don’t give me some bullshit about it being environmentally conscious,” Sunwoo continues, almost in warning. “I’ll tell Chanhee.”

Changmin is just a second to late when he puts one foot in, the lift beginning to close. Sunwoo is right on time when he yanks Changmin in before the doors crush him between them. It really shouldn’t be that attractive, but the butterflies in his belly don’t seem to care.

“You little snitch,” he manages to say. The press of Sunwoo’s hand feels too real, even through his wet sweater. He wracks his mind for an excuse. “All my dry clothes are at my place.”

“I’ll get you some,” Sunwoo counters with finality, nudging him out of the lift when they reach his floor.

Changmin is defrosting his chill under the comfort of warm water, when he realises that even if Sunwoo can get into their apartment, he can’t possibly know the ins and outs everything. His cheeks go warm at the thought of Sunwoo digging through his room, curious eyes on all the little tidbits of his soul. Changmin speeds through the rest of the shower, hurriedly towelling his hair.

But when Sunwoo knocks on the bathroom door, he hands Changmin a set of clothes he’s never seen before in his life. At least, not on himself.

“You didn’t have to give me your clothes,” he says later, chopping up vegetables in Sunwoo’s kitchen. He doesn’t own anything that’s not atleast two sizes too baggy on himself—needs all that extra room for his swag, he says. While super comfortable, they’re even baggier on Changmin, and the sleeves keep drooping back over his fingers no matter how much he pushes them up. Changmin puts down the knife with a frustrated sound.

“Well, you don’t have to cook for me,” Sunwoo reasons, reaching for his hand. He starts folding the sleeve, and it’s the most careful he’s ever seen Sunwoo be. Not that he’s been watching or something. “But hey, here you are.”

Changmin hates that he makes sense. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing this. He’s not even that good of a cook, to try and do this for someone else.

“Yes, I do,” Changmin argues, eyes on how his fingers work the fabric. “Because you gave me your clothes.”

“Because you’re cooking for me,” Sunwoo shoots back, gesturing for the other hand.

“That’s not how it works!” Changmin laughs, and Sunwoo grins at that. He’s done with both sleeves, and steps back to lean against the counter again, watching him.

“Sure thing, chef.”

He tries to act annoyed, but it’s really hard when Sunwoo makes him smile so easily. It’s even harder when Changmin returns back to his apartment that night, but he falls asleep wrapped up in layers—of fabric that smells like Sunwoo, of thoughts plagued by big brown eyes, of an echoing laugh that’s akin to sunlight.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

Changmin feels a little pathetic knocking on the door again. But what’s more pathetic is the way it all disolves when the door opens to reveal Sunwoo’s knowing smile.

“Hey again,” Changmin greets, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. He doesn’t think it’s working; he can feel himself mirroring Sunwoo’s expression. “So, you know the drill. I need to borrow the—”

But Sunwoo’s tugging him inside. Changmin is stumbling from surprise, hands coming up to grab something. They press against Sunwoo’s chest, just as Sunwoo’s hands land on his waist, steadying him. It’s so reminiscent of that night at the party, except this time, they don’t spring apart after two seconds.

“Your hand is super cold.”

Changmin can feel his voice under his palm, the vibrations of it bringing him back to reality.

“Sorry,” he immediately says, about to move away. But Sunwoo is quicker, and he finds himself closer than before, warmth all around him. Sunwoo’s as good of a hugger as he’d imagined. “Oh.”

“Is this okay?”

And Changmin’s brain is short-circuiting. His words try to sharpen themselves up, but they bend and soften under his emotions running wild. All he can manage is a quiet, “Yeah.”

The interaction has him dazed for longer than he he anticipates, simply nodding along when Sunwoo asks if they should order in. He even lets Sunwoo pick out a godawful romcom again, not even a semblance of insult slipping past his lips. Because his mind is full, thinking so hard about the hug and how nice it was, and how much he wants it to happen again. Instead, they poke fun at the screen, and Sunwoo complains about work, and Changmin complains about his apartment.

“I’ll be in here more often, I guess,” he jokes, remembering the landlord’s text to him about when the issues will be fixed. It’s unlikely to happen before New Year’s. Surely, that goes against something in the contract he signed?

He pulls his knees up to his chin, curling up on the sofa. Sunwoo notices, and then holds out an arm in invitation. The thought of declining barely pops up, but he pushes it away surprisingly fast. This is bad—Changmin is becoming weaker and weaker to these thoughts.

“Better?” Sunwoo asks once he's scooted his way, and Changmin hums, still keeping a polite level of space between them. Sunwoo scoffs and pulls him closer, tucks him right into his side. Changmin nearly sighs at the warmth that seeps into his body, but quickly catches himself.

“You sure this is okay?” he asks, leaning his head on the other’s shoulder.

“Have I ever said no to a hug?” Sunwoo murmurs, resting his cheek on Changmin’s head. “Besides, it looks like you’ve already decided it’s okay.”

To his mortification, he realises he’d already thrown his legs over Sunwoo’s. Changmin mumbles out something in defense, but he can’t really register what. All he knows is that it makes Sunwoo laugh, arm squeezing Changmin tighter. Sunwoo makes a comment on the movie, but Changmin isn’t paying it the least of his attention, eyes fluttering shut, savouring this moment.

He awakens later, and the first thing he notices is that he isn’t on the sofa anymore. There’s a blanket pulled over him, a pillow under his head, and though Sunwoo is nowhere to be seen, Changmin can smell him on these covers. Roses and citrus, the tiniest hint of musk—whatever it was that had lulled him to sleep, whatever it is that Changmin can pinpoint as Sunwoo whenever they’re close.

He shakes his head, and slips out of bed, trying to be soundless as he makes his way out of the room.

“How was the movie?”

Not a moment of peace for him, it seems. Sunwoo lounges on the sofa, a comic book in hand.

Changmin runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it out. Sunwoo’s eyes follow the movement. “Sorry, I don’t remember it much, or even going to—”

He blinks, trying to recall how he made it to Sunwoo’s room.

“Did you carry me there?”

Sunwoo looks abashed for once, and flips a page in his comic book. The thing that grows in Changmin’s chest is conflicting, butterflies fluttering their hardest as they’re caught up in webs of shame, all sticky and stubborn.

“I’m sorry,” Changmin blurts out, embarrassment winning.

Sunwoo’s eyes peek over the top of his book, brows raised. When they lock gazes, he sits up properly, frowning. “What? No. No, that’s completely fine. I didn’t mind.” He holds up an arm, pretending to flex. “I’m super strong, you see.”

“I should’ve just gone home,” Changmin says, sitting down next to him.

“Actually,” Sunwoo begins, putting the book down and turning to him, his eyes all sweet and serious, “I was thinking you could stay here for the rest of your holidays.”

That’s at least two weeks. Weeks, sharing a space with Sunwoo. Sunwoo, who fills him with chaos and calm all at once; a veil of fond irritation and the softer feelings beneath it. Sunwoo who glows like topaz under the sun, making his heart beat so furiously.

“I… I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Changmin says, but Sunwoo is taking his hands. His eyes are all large and shiny and imploring, and Changmin thinks that is such an unfair advantage.

“I want you to stay,” Sunwoo explains, unblinking. “It’s not like you’re going anywhere for the holidays, and neither is the power issue. So, stay here.” A little softer, he adds, “If not for me, then at least to keep warm, y’know…”

Changmin stares at their hands. At how Sunwoo’s fingers curl around his, thumb resting over his knuckles. He thinks about his apartment, dim and cold. He thinks of Chanhee, thousands of miles away. He thinks of his family, who he had to miss out on visiting this year. He thinks about how the loneliness of all those things fade every time he steps foot into Sunwoo’s presence.

“... Fine,” Changmin relents, looking to the side. “I guess I live here now.”

He doesn’t get to play nonchalant for too long, because Sunwoo is throwing his arms around him, and Changmin is grappling for something to keep himself from being knocked over. He finds that, despite his lanky frame, Sunwoo is a pretty stable option. Changmin tries not to pull him too close in the process, heart ready to leap out of his chest.

“Good, you’re already dressed like you do," Sunwoo murmurs into his shoulder.

Changmin is about to ask him about the nonsense he’s spewing, when he remembers he’s in Sunwoo’s hoodie again. What an utterly terrible mistake on his part.

“Shut up,” Changmin tells him, but it lacks any kind of bite. “I was cold.”

Sunwoo hums. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you super warm from now on.”

“Shut up,” Changmin repeats, but his pretense is shattered by his laugh, and the squeeze of his arms around Sunwoo tightens just a bit.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

It turns out to be easier said than done.

Changmin already knows the man he’s crushing on is unreal levels of beautiful, and has made peace with the fact that he will be in said man’s presence every day. What he hadn’t accounted for is what this would do to his psyche. More often than not, he finds himself letting his eyes linger on Sunwoo, and then scrambling for a cover when he’s caught.

“How are you always in one layer?” is his excuse for today, when he finds Sunwoo settled on the floor, gaming console in hand. “In winter? Do you not get cold or something?”

Sunwoo tilts his head with a half-smile. “If you wanted to cuddle, you just had to say so.”

When Changmin turns his face the other way, he laughs, patting the space next to him.

“Come play. It’s fun, I promise.”

Changmin glances at the screen. He doesn’t game often, but he knows this is not his forte.

“So what?” Sunwoo asks, when he’s got Changmin next to him, controller in hand, “You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it.”

“What a naive way to live,” Changmin says, trying to manoeuvre his character using the buttons, “Winners don’t think like that.”

Which is how he ends up hissing angrily at the display an hour later. Sunwoo’s arms circle around him, pressing him close into his side, fingers over Changmin’s own in an attempt to guide him. Their cheeks are pressed against each other, and when Sunwoo murmurs instructions, Changmin can feel it buzz through his entire head.

It’s so… couple-y.

No, he reasons. Couples game together much more differently. He’s seen Chanhee bracketed by Younghoon’s legs, the other’s chin over his shoulder as they try to get through a level. He’s seen Jaehyun with his head laid in Chanhee’s lap, eyes focused as slender fingers run through his hair. He’s had to turn off the television when he found Younghoon and Jaehyun asleep, wrapped up in each other’s limbs, controllers forgotten on the floor.

(This isn’t couple-y at all. Not unless Sunwoo decides to let him nestle in between his legs, lets him recline against his heartbeat, guiding him through the game patiently. Or something like that. The back of his neck burns at the thought.)

“Yes, exactly like that,” whispers Sunwoo, startling him out of his terrible, horrible, unthinkable daydream. Changmin has somehow passed an important checkpoint, though he guesses that was all through Sunwoo’s efforts. “See? I knew you could do it.”

He’s always thought that Sunwoo has a pleasant voice. It was one of the first things Changmin had liked upon their meeting. But like this, so soft and so near, Changmin likes it a little too much. He wants to keep it all for himself.

“It’s just my body temperature, by the way,” Sunwoo says, giggling when Changmin voices out his confusion. “The single t-shirt? I just run hot, that’s all.”

“God, yeah, you are,” Changmin mumbles before he can help it. His breath hitches when he realises what just happened. “Hot—literally, I mean. Like a walking furnace. We need to put you in the freezer or something.”

Changmin can see his mouth shaking with a barely held-back smile. He barely counts to three before Sunwoo bursts open with laughter, draping over him. The winds outside swirl with powdery white, people hurrying home with frost-nipped cheeks. But in here, Changmin’s face is aglow with warmth, Sunwoo’s arms still around him.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

Changmin finds that Sunwoo picks up a person’s vibe and matches it almost immaculately. One evening, he flops down onto the couch, presumably to use the television, when he catches Changmin wrapped up in his fleece throw, a novel in hand, his phone playing mellow piano tunes on low volume. He puts the remote down and retreats to his room. Changmin worries he’s interrupted something Sunwoo really wanted to do, until the other returns with a box.

He gathers from the packaging that it’s some kind of crafting kit, but he cannot figure out the process. There’s a cute, rounded animal doll on the front. All Sunwoo has been doing is holding a lump of beige fuzz, and furiously prodding it with a needle.

“What even is that?” Changmin finally asks, his curiosity too much to bear.

Sunwoo points at the box with his needle. “Needle felting. This is going to turn into that cute little guy.”

Changmin looks from the box to Sunwoo’s current progress. He sure hopes Sunwoo is right. “I didn’t know you were into this stuff.”

Sunwoo laughs, stabbing at the felt again. “Never done this in my life. I bought the kit and thought this might be a good time to try.”

Changmin tilts his head in question. Sunwoo gestures to his book, and then to his phone.

“We’re doing quiet things together,” he remarks.

“Oh,” Changmin says, softly inhaling. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Sunwoo assures. There’s something a little too honest in how his eyes look at Changmin.

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he unwraps himself, and beckons Sunwoo into his little haven of fleecy warmth.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

Despite no longer needing to get up so early, his internal clock is still aligned with his nine-to-five. He stretches his limbs and decides he might as well have some coffee, if Sunwoo has any. Which is how Changmin sees the state of how Sunwoo has been sleeping these past few days.

“Not a chance,” he tells the other, holding up his hand when Sunwoo opens his mouth to retort. “The sofa can’t be comfortable.”

“It’s not super soft, but it isn’t terrible,” Sunwoo replies, patting one of the seats. His unfinished ball of brown felt lays on the coffee table. You have to admire his persistence.

Changmin frowns at how his legs hang off the edge. He thought Sunwoo would’ve at least been taking extra pillows out for the night, but he’s just been using the tiny ones on the couch. “It’s not big enough for you, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo’s eyes follow his gaze, and then he curls up, making himself smaller. He grins at Changmin with a thumbs up.

“No,” Changmin reiterates, and then crosses his arms with a sigh. “I guess I just have to go back home, then.”

Sunwoo gasps, sitting up way too fast, reaching out to hold him by the arm. As if Changmin was going to start running upstairs right away or something. It’s silly and comical, and it really shouldn’t make his fondness grow.

“No, I’ll move back to my room,” he blurts out, tugging Changmin’s arm, “But I’m warning you.”

“About what?” Changmin laughs, incredulous.

He’s not laughing later that night when he realises what Sunwoo meant. Unlike his and Chanhee’s shared two-room apartment, Sunwoo’s side of the building is for single bedroom options. They try their best, but the one bed is not the most spatially generous option for two grown men.

It’s not uncomfortable, per se. If they could just relax a bit, this could be the cosiest sleep they ever get.

But here they lie, stiff as boards, shoulder against shoulder, staring at the ceiling.

“Goodnight,” Sunwoo whispers, turning onto his side, and Changmin thinks for a moment. Considers turning to the same side, with a perfect view of the back of Sunwoo’s head, his warmth right at Changmin’s fingertips if he so wished. The thought startles him, and he promptly turns the other way.

Despite their efforts, they realise after a total of three nights that this is futile. Sunwoo’s a hugger even when unconscious, and Changmin enjoys this more than he’d like to admit. So when he wakes up earlier than Sunwoo—easy feat, by the way—and finds that they’ve somehow intertwined, he closes his eyes again and pretends the sun has yet to rise.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

He’s grown so used to Sunwoo sleeping in, that when he wakes up to an empty bed, he thinks he’s still dreaming. When he realises Sunwoo really did leave bright and early, Changmin ends up playing that video game from before, out of boredom. Somehow, it isn’t quite as fun by himself. He tugs the hoodie tighter around himself. This is ridiculous. How can he miss someone when he’s in their home, in their clothes?

He’s about to make it past a difficult level when the door clicks open. The way he perks up and turns around is almost embarrassing. He hears his character fall off a ledge on screen.

“Woah, you almost had it this time,” Sunwoo says, but Changmin is more focused on what he’s carrying in. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you buy a whole tree?”

Sunwoo puts it down with a heavy sigh. Like he didn’t go out and do this all on his own.

“Fake mini tree. And pre-assembled, you’re welcome.” He pauses in thought before looking back at the door, eyes lighting up. “Wait, I got fun things to put on it too. I’ll be right back. Oh, and put this on, you look like you’re freezing. Why didn’t you turn the heater on, you silly…”

The puffer jacket Sunwoo was wearing lands right on his head. Changmin doesn’t have time to react before he’s gone again. He puts on the jacket, and grabs one more from Sunwoo’s closet before he makes his way out.

The air that hits him is bitingly cold, and he runs over to where Sunwoo is parked, the back of his car open. Changmin slaps the other jacket over his back.

“Lecturing me about how it’s cold,” Changmin grumbles, helping him into the jacket. When he takes Sunwoo’s hand, he finds that his fingers are icy. “I know you’re freakishly hot naturally, but you’re also just a human, okay? Don’t be stupid and get sick.”

But all Sunwoo does is grin, eyes crinkling and pearly whites on display. “So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m hot?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Changmin groans, ignoring him in favour of unloading boxes out of the car. Even if it isn’t what he meant, it doesn’t make it less true. “I also called you stupid, think about that.”

Sunwoo simply laughs, accepting whatever Changmin shoves into his arms. “Whatever you say, gorgeous.”

Changmin nearly drops the box. He swiftly turns on his heel and speed walks back to the building, leaving Sunwoo behind. He catches up of course, and the few seconds in the lift feel almost unbearable. Gorgeous? Sure, maybe Sunwoo’s a master of flattery. Or maybe this is just his usual flirtatious joking. Perhaps they’re close enough now that Sunwoo is comfortable to do this so casually. Or maybe…

He peeks at Sunwoo from the corner of his eye, only to find him already watching.

Changmin whips his head away. No way. 

“Wait, Sunwoo,” Changmin remembers later, as they’re putting up the final ornaments on the tree. They’re the cheap kind, and the glitter comes off them much too soon, sticking to their skin. “You don’t even do Christmas.”

Sunwoo looks over to him from where he’s securing tinsel to the space above the TV. There’s sparkling red and gold flecks stuck to his cheek, but their shine is nothing compared to his eyes when he smiles. “But you do.”

Changmin’s thoughts break free again, a thousand hopeful 'maybe's flooding his mind.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

“Alright, so when’s the wedding?”

Changmin shushes Jaehyun like he’s here in person, despite his earbuds being connected to the phone. There’s nobody else in the supermarket anyway. “Don’t be ridiculous! And be quiet, do you want the whole world to know?”

Chanhee slides into frame, woollen scarf wrapped around his entire head, powdery white flecks caught on the fabric. “Who’s getting married?”

“Nobody,” Changmin says, waving his hand. “Tell your boyfriend to get back to skiing.”

Chanhee gives him a cute little salute and Changmin thinks he’s too lovely for Jaehyun’s nosy ass. But then Chanhee is tilting his head in question as Changmin pulls a pack of ramyeon off the shelves with his free hand.

“I didn’t think you liked that brand,” he says, very confused.

“Uh—newly acquired taste?” Changmin tries, hurriedly putting the pack in his shopping basket.

Chanhee is still peering at him intensely. “That jacket.”

“It’s a common jacket,” Changmin replies, hoping that’ll be explanation enough. He picks up a box of the cookies Sunwoo likes, that he’s been sneakily emptying the pantry of.

“Changminie,” Jaehyun sing-songs, toothy grin on display. “How’re you dealing with the power issues? Did you end up asking a friend, or going to your parents until it’s resolved?”

This fucker.

“I’ve found uh, temporary solution, don’t worry,” he starts, trying to sound as calm as possible. “I’ll be fine, so don’t—”

But it’s too late. Chanhee’s eyes are sharp, like a cat that has just realised that its prey is cornered with nowhere to go.

“I got that jacket customised for someone’s birthday last year,” Chanhee recalls, and Changmin thinks, for once he’s not cold. He’s warming up rapidly when Chanhee’s smile teeters the line between gentle and a little devious. Whatever, maybe he and Jaehyun deserve each other after all. “Are you staying with… Sunwoo?”

He’s saved by a flurry of white behind the two, and Younghoon’s shrill yelling in the background. Changmin owes him one.

“Hyung!” Chanhee gasps, back to his usual angelic self. Jaehyun is already rushing off to help. Chanhee points at the camera with a perfect, slender finger. “Listen, I need to go, but I expect details, mister.”

They exchange hurried ‘love you’s before Changmin is left to stare at the contents of his basket in silence. He finds that most of these items are things he’s only very recently come to like.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

Christmas morning comes, and Changmin is staring blearily at a small, badly wrapped gift set down in front of his breakfast.

“Huh,” he says, looking up with his cheeks full of food.

Sunwoo rubs the back of his neck, his smile a little sheepish. “It’s not much, but it’s for you.”

Changmin tears it open carefully, and blinks at the object inside. So this is why Sunwoo had been so tirelessly working on his needle felting project. It’s much clearer in form now—bushy tail and rounded cheeks. There’s a tiny red heart in between the paws, that he doesn’t remember being part of the kit. Sunwoo shakes it in front of his eyes.

“I’ll attach the keychain later,” he explains, and puts it back on the table. Sunwoo pulls a chair close to him and takes a seat. “He kinda looks like you.”

Changmin frowns at the squirrel’s beady eyes. When Sunwoo lightly taps his cheek, he realises that in his surprise, he hasn’t swallowed his food. Changmin supposes they do look pretty similar like this.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Changmin says, once he’s finally gotten his breakfast in his system. He recalls the endless hours of Sunwoo poking the thing non-stop, grumbling about how it was clearly a scam. He smiles at the finished doll, tracing the top of its head gingerly. “Thank you. It’s very cute.”

“Just like you,” comes the immediate response, and Sunwoo’s looking at him, chin in his palm. Changmin can’t even give him some kind of irritated response; Sunwoo’s eyes are too genuine for that, his voice too hushed.

“Thanks,” he says weakly.

Sunwoo winks, and then gets up, patting his head. “Anything you wanna do today?”

Changmin’s scalp feels like it’s twinkling with stars. Good lord.

“Ice... skating?” he suggests, reminiscing how they’d usually go with the rest of their friend group. They’d usually have to organise this beforehand, but Changmin is sure they’d appreciate the invite if they’re still in the city. “D’you think the others would be down?”

Sunwoo pretends to stroke an imaginary beard. “Pretty sure Haknyeon’s gone back to Jeju for the week.”

“Juyeon told me he’s sick yesterday,” Changmin remembers, drumming his nails on the table. “Which means Eric’s definitely also sick.”

Sure enough, when they call him, Eric coughs through Sunwoo’s phone, his sentences garbled with phlegm. Changmin thinks it’s good that he and Juyeon finally decided to move in together, with how much they worry about each other.

“What about Kevin?” Sunwoo suggests, when Eric finally hangs up after wailing about how badly he misses them. “He’d never pass this up.”

Except Kevin’s instagram stories all have Vancouver in the locations he keeps tagging. And they don’t even get to consider Jacob, because he is in each of Kevin’s photos. In fucking Vancouver, Canada. There goes another two people from their crowd.

“Hmm, we could try Sangyeon,” Sunwoo says, after listing everyone else off on his fingers. “He’s usually in Seoul unless he’s flying out for work. Which, well—it’s the holidays.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, babies,” Sangyeon laments over video-call, one of his nephews hanging over his shoulder with a cheeky smile. Changmin frowns at the background. Are they on a mountain? “We’re all in Japan until New Year’s.”

In the evening, it just ends up being a party of two at the ice rink. They’re not pros or anything, but both of them have done this enough to glide across the ice without assistance. And yet, they’re still joining their hands, and Sunwoo’s still letting Changmin pull him along whichever way he pleases. Sunwoo’s still bringing him closer whenever someone whizzes past them too speedily, hand finding the small of Changmin’s back. Someone does push Sunwoo by accident, hollering an apology as they zoom away, and he flails around as Changmin tries to steady them.

They end up too close, grabbing each other’s arms, foreheads nearly touching.

It isn’t out of place, the rink is chock-full of couples anyway, holding hands, dancing around one another, stealing a kiss. Changmin is so close to him. He grips Sunwoo’s arm harder.

“Should we get dinner?” Sunwoo breaks the silence, leaning away first.

It turns out, it’s very hard to find a place that isn’t booked out or backed up with orders on the biggest holiday of the year. It’s on them for overlooking this, and they laugh about it on the way home, Sunwoo’s hand still in his, cosy in Changmin’s coat pocket.

“Sorry,” Sunwoo says later, when they’re curled up on opposite ends of the sofa in pyjamas, empty instant ramyeon cups on the table. “I know this is kind of a shitty Christmas.”

“Are you joking?” Changmin asks, pointing around at the room. They’d gotten Changmin’s set of string lights from upstairs and put them up, too. “Festive decor, a gourmet dinner, and a cute date? I’m living the dream. Chanhee would be jealous.”

Sunwoo huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m serious.”

Changmin crawls over to Sunwoo’s side of the sofa, into his usual spot of comfort from these last few weeks. Sunwoo welcomes him readily, letting Changmin tuck his face into the crook of his neck, their legs overlapping. They’re a little cocoon of warmth, and Changmin has grown to like this so much. He’s almost dreading the day his problems get solved.

“I’m serious, too,” he echoes, playing with the other’s fingers. When they’re palm to palm, Changmin finds that their hands match each other well. “This is more than enough, I mean it.”

For once  Sunwoo’s reply isn’t witty nor funny, his fingers simply finding their way into the spaces between Changmin's.

° . • ~ ❄️ ~ • . °

Changmin awakens, his ear pressed against a heartbeat. They fell asleep on the couch last night, and normally the woollen throw blanket wouldn’t be enough, but he finds that being intertwined with Sunwoo makes up for whatever it lacked.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Sunwoo says from under him, relief in his voice. “Listen, my bladder is about to burst, so if you could just—”

Changmin blinks, scrambling off him immediately. “You should’ve just pushed me off and gone.”

“Didn’t wanna wake you,” Sunwoo hurriedly explains, scurrying off in the bathroom’s direction.

Changmin is left to think about the implications of his choice. His gaze wanders around the living room decorations, catching sight of the felt squirrel, which he’d somehow wedged in place between green plastic branches, still holding up fine. He ends up next to the tree, taking the doll in his hands.

He kinda looks like you.

He stares at the two pink patches on its face, meant to look like blushing cheeks. He hadn’t expected something like this from Sunwoo. Something that required so much patience and care to make. The squirrel’s smiling face stares back at him. Something so… cute.

Just like you.

Changmin shakes his head, cheeks warm. There’s a poke to the back of his neck.

“Boo—fuck, I’m sorry! ” Sunwoo yells when Changmin whirls around in fright, a punch aimed straight for his face. He misses by a hair’s length. Sunwoo’s fear dissolves soon enough, when he sees what Changmin’s other hand is clutching. “You like it that much?”

Changmin hums, holding the squirrel to his heart. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“Nah, you’re all good,” Sunwoo assures, and just as he turns around to walk away, Changmin pulls him back by the shirt.

“I’ll get you something,” he insists. “What do you want?”

He’s so sure Sunwoo is going to ask him to pay for a meal, or to buy him some new shoes, or even a new hoodie. Maybe some character skins if he’s really going to take advantage of this. But his smile is playful when he reaches up to tap his lip.

“Just a kiss.”

“What?” Changmin says, dumbfounded.

“A kiss, please,” Sunwoo repeats, watching as Changmin’s befuddlement finally becomes external.

“No, I—” Changmin says, throat dry. He tries to put the squirrel back on the tree. It falls to the ground. “I heard you the first time, I just—huh?”

Sunwoo’s grin is widening with glee. He’s enjoying this too much.

“We share a bed, what’s a little kiss between bros?” he asks, eyes deceivingly round.

There is no sign of him backing down, and Changmin doesn't plan to either. Sunwoo's getting a little too smug at the silence. Two can play at this game—even if his pulse right now is crazy enough to launch him into space.

“You’re joking,” Changmin grumbles, fingers curling into the fabric of Sunwoo’s t-shirt, leaning in closer.

“Am I?” Sunwoo questions, following his move, mouth so close to Changmin’s, a hand coming up to cup his cheek.

And it feels like everything happens in slow motion. The bow of Sunwoo’s lip is incredibly pretty. His eyelashes are feathery as his eyes close in anticipation. The thump-thump-thump of Changmin’s heart is both deafening in his own ears, and so faraway at the same time. If he does this, he couldn’t possibly go back to being just friends. Just the thought of it feels lethal, leaves him aching terribly. Whatever fake confidence he’d just spewed evaporates immediately, and he pulls away with a shaky breath. Sunwoo’s beauty devastates him so much it feels like the sky is falling down on him. God, his stupid little crush has gotten too big. He inhales and it’s still shaky.

“I like you,” Changmin blurts out, and the shock that appears in Sunwoo’s eyes scares him. It terrifies him, so he looks away, frowning at the floor. “I like you. Shit, sorry.”

It’s unfamiliar to lay himself out this way to be read, and he hates it.

But then he’s being pulled into something familiar, Sunwoo’s all around him—familiar arms and familiar scent and familiar warmth. “That’s not something to apologise for, hyung.”

Changmin blinks back a growing sting in his eyes at that. Sunwoo has never cared much for formality or honorifics, except when he feels like he’s majorly fucked up. Which doesn’t make sense, considering Changmin is the one who just set this whole thing on fire.

“This doesn’t have to change anything,” Changmin promises, even though he’s sure it will.

Sunwoo is rubbing his back slowly, and Changmin’s anxiety is finally numbing out. He’s still too scared to hug him back.

“Just… let me down gently, okay? I can take it.”

Sunwoo’s hands falter for just a second before continuing. “Now why would I do that to myself? When the guy I like finally says he likes me too?”

He gives Changmin two seconds to process before pulling away, eyebrows creasing upwards in disbelief at Changmin’s confused expression.

“I thought I made it pretty obvious,” Sunwoo says, a laugh snaking its way past the sentence. “I’ve been dropping hints for months.”

When Changmin remains silent, Sunwoo’s palms are on his shoulders.

“Sure, I let friends stay over, but do you think I let you cuddle me to sleep out of the goodness of my heart?” He looks a little embarrassed when he admits, “I did have my own selfish reasons.”

Changmin rushes to add to this revelation. “Me too. So it cancels out.”

Sunwoo grins big at that, his nose scrunching up and his eyes twinkling. Changmin remembers how this all began, and his brain is fizzling again at the prospect of their lips touching. God, he doesn’t think he’s ready for all this. He wants to tread this carefully; something as lovely and precious and new as Sunwoo in this light. Changmin’s heart, too, is a tenderly new thing, unshelled and honest like this. He worries he’ll ruin it all if he goes so fast.

“I can’t kiss you,” he sighs, resting his forehead against Sunwoo’s shoulder. “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Sunwoo agrees, stroking the hair at the back of his head. “Or ever, okay? Not unless you’re comfortable.”

One day, Changmin promises in his mind. His arms finally come to twist around Sunwoo. But for now…

“This will have to do,” he says, lifting his head to peck Sunwoo’s cheek. It’s warmer and pinker than it’s ever been.

“Perfect,” Sunwoo breathes out, his smile shy. It’s a new look on him, and Changmin immediately likes it. He’s so giddy, he barely processes being dragged into Sunwoo’s room, all the way to his bed.

“What are we doing?” he asks, when Sunwoo peels the covers away and crawls into bed.

“Sleeping,” Sunwoo answers, tugging at him to join. “It’s way too early.”

Changmin slips in next to him, pulling the covers over them. Sunwoo curls into him right away, yelping when Changmin’s icy limbs come into contact with his. And yet, he still takes Changmin’s hands, and guides them under the warmth of his t-shirt. Good lord. Winter hasn’t killed him yet, but Kim Sunwoo just might.

“Your hands are freezing,” he declares, like that isn’t his own fault for putting them there.

“Good thing my new boyfriend runs super hot,” Changmin mumbles, sighing at how the heat of Sunwoo’s skin hits him immediately. Their temperatures meld together into something perfectly in between. Changmin feels his mouth twitch into a smile, and snuggles closer. Thermal equilibrium has never felt more romantic.