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Waking up to Jisung is an experience Minho never wants to forget. He never wants to wake up by himself again, without the heat of Jisung pressed against his chest with the cold tip of his nose nestled into the crook of his neck. With Jisung’s breathing fanning his shirt and skin, with the sun slowly coming through the curtains casting him in an angelic glow.
Every morning, it feels like he’s won a prize he doesn’t deserve. Like some sort of God is shining down on him and keeps granting him Jisung. His lips, his words and his face. His kindness and laughter and loving ways. Oftentimes, Minho wakes up before Jisung does. Whenever that happens, he wraps Jisung in his arms a little tighter, presses a kiss to Jisung’s head and then watches.
Silently, taking deep breaths. He always tries to keep their breathing in sync, to not wake Jisung with uneven breathing and other noises. Those mornings are Minho’s favorite — where the birds outside are the only thing he hears apart from Jisung, when he gets to wake up slowly with the love of his life in his arms.
Jisung stirs and Minho freezes. He stays quiet, still, until Jisung whines softly and continues sleeping. His eyes move behind his lids, though they don’t open. Minho smiles, can’t help the way he wants to protect Jisung like this. Asleep, he’s calm. The anxieties and stress of everyday life don’t touch him when he’s like this, away in his own world. If Minho could, he’d keep Jisung in that world forever. He hates it when Jisung gets bad, when his brain becomes mean and his mind starts telling him things that simply aren’t true.
Leaning in, Minho presses a soft kiss to Jisung’s forehead. It’s clearly the wrong move, for Jisung tightens his hold on Minho’s shirt and whines again, eyes fluttering open slowly. It’s like a movie, the way Jisung scrunches his nose and smiles. One of those montages with close ups of the love interest, with soft music playing in the background and the distinct feeling that you’re watching something you shouldn’t.
Minho knows, though, that he’s allowed to watch this. Jisung’s smile grows when their eyes meet. “Good morning.”
“Morning baby.” Minho replies in kind, lowering his head until their noses are pressed together. He rubs his against Jisung’s, earning himself a giggle. “I think there’s a surprise waiting for you.”
Jisung raises an eyebrow, a confused noise leaving his lips. “What?”
“I think,” Minho repeats, kissing Jisung quickly before pulling away to allow Jisung more room. The younger shuffles away a little, his bedhair flopping from one side to the next. He clearly didn’t wash out his product well enough. Minho reaches out to card his hand through the mess. It’s soft in between his fingers. “I think we had snow last night.”
It’s comical, the way Jisung’s eyes grow wide as saucers. He scrambles, nearly elbowing Minho in the chest as he rushes to get out of bed. He throws the curtains open and gasps, the light casting into their bedroom a sudden onslaught on the eyes. Minho blinks once, twice, before Jisung comes back into view properly. He’s a silhouette in the sun, bordered by the snow slowly falling to the earth below. A small layer of snow has collected on their balcony railing like a cushion on a park bench. “Oh my god!”
“Pretty, right?” Minho asks from their bed. It’s cold now, without Jisung, and he would quite like his boyfriend back. Then again, now that he knows the snow is there, Jisung will not get into bed anytime soon. “Ji—”
“Come on!” Jisung rushes to Minho and grabs his hand. He pulls. Normally, Minho would fight and complain and tell Jisung to get back into bed again. Normally, they would stay in bed for at least an hour mindlessly chatting the time away in their own little coccoon. It’s the weekend, neither of them has work. It’s their usual routine.
Now, though, there’s snow involved. Minho pretends to complain — he huffs as Jisung throws a hoodie at him and his comfortable pants, but he pulls them both on anyway. Jisung is quick to put one of Minho’s hoodies on, ignoring his own selection of winter clothes, before taking Minho’s hand again and pulling him out of their bedroom.
He rushes them both to the hallway, where Jisung eagerly pulls their coats from the hangers. One of them clatters to the floor and Minho winces, though he doesn’t make a move to grab it. Instead, he steps into his shoes without needing to be asked. Jisung’s smile is gorgeous and warm and home in a way nothing else is.
“Hurry!”
“The snow isn’t going to melt in two seconds.” Minho giggles, though he allows Jisung to pull him out of their apartment and toward the elevator. Fortunately, it’s on their floor and Jisung quickly presses the button for the ground floor. He crows against Minho and shivers, leaning his head on Minho’s shoulder. Minho indulges him happily and presses another kiss to Jisung’s head. “We’re going to be so cold.”
“Don’t care.” Jisung replies, shrugging. “We can make hot chocolate.”
“It’s nine in the morning.” Minho deadpans, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll make us some french toast for breakfast.”
Jisung hums, nodding. He doesn’t get to say anything else, though, because the elevator doors open and he’s back to pulling Minho along like a puppet on a string. And perhaps he is just that — Jisung could pull him to the ends of the earth and Minho would follow without protest, complaint.
The cold is like a knife to the throat. Instantly, Minho shivers as the snow crunches underneath his feet. Jisung gasps again, eyes growing impossibly wider. He’s seen snow before — hell, they’ve done this routine maybe two times already — and yet, Jisung pretends it’s the first time every time he sees it. Like a child unable to forget how magical Disneyland truly is. Minho has never been, but he doubts it would beat Jisung looking at snow.
“You’re cute.”
“Minho,” Jisung whines, his pout only proving Minho’s point. He takes Jisung’s hand in his and squeezes, the cold already seeping through his coat. “Kiss me. In the snow.”
“We’ve kissed in the snow—”
“Don’t care.” Jisung rolls his eyes and crowds against Minho once more. Minho allows it without protest, lowering his head slightly to graze Jisung’s lips. The other man grins from ear to ear, a sparkle in his eyes that makes the freezing cold worth it. “We should put up our Christmas tree.”
“We will.” Minho replies, followed by a quick peck to Jisung’s lips. Their supplies are in their little storage room in the apartment complex’ basement floor and will take a minute to retrieve. But Minho doesn’t care. If Jisung keeps smiling at him like that, he’ll bring the moon down for him and make Santa appear out of thin air. “Now, where’s my kiss?”
Jisung giggles, a sound like music to Minho’s ears, before pressing their lips together again once more. It’s longer this time, their tongues moving in a dance that they know too well. The cold disappears, the snow falling down on them fading into the background. The sound of snow crunching should alarm Minho, but he doesn’t move. People walk past them, and there’s snow on his cheek and his hair is getting wet with cold, but none of it matters.
His entire being zeroes in on Jisung. And the thought of making breakfast for him while Jisung sits on the single sliver of counter space that Minho doesn’t need while cooking. Them setting up their Christmas tree again, decorating the rest of the room and hanging a wreath on their bedroom door. The cute napkins, the halloween pumpkins switched out for stuffed animals in the shapes of reindeer and snowmen.
Jisung shivers into the kiss, and Minho can’t help but laugh. He pulls away a sliver, a breath. “We should go inside.”
“But the—”
“You’ll get sick, and Felix will throw a fit if you can’t make it to Christmas dinner next week.”
“Okay,” Jisung whines and pouts. “But we’re going on a walk later.”
“Of course.” Minho kisses him again, rubbing their noses together when he pulls away. “We’ll go for a walk.”
The way Jisung smiles at him is bright enough to melt the snow around them, to rid the world entirely of ice and snow. Minho is selfish, however. He bottles up the warmth and adoration and hides it in his chest, keeps it away from the rest of the world and its people. He’s selfish and perhaps cruel, because he takes Jisung back inside when it’s clear his boyfriend doesn’t want to leave the snow.
Minho doesn’t want him to get sick. They can go back outside after they’ve eaten and their apartment has been decorated, and when Minho has fished their proper winter coats out of storage and found Jisung’s gloves again. They’ll go for a walk and look at the Christmas lights people have hung up outside, and go back home to watch a cheesy Christmas movie that Minho will pick out because Jisung cannot make a choice for the life of him.
As Jisung skips into the elevator, Minho smiles at him. His chest expands with the feeling of Jisung, and he exhales. This is his life now, and he’ll love every single second of it. Come rain, shine or snow.