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The air in Seoul had turned sharp, the kind of cold that bit at the tip of one’s nose and turned exhaled breaths into swirling ghostly clouds. For Hwang Hyunjin, this weather was a canvas. He saw the world in shades of slate gray and icy blue, but lately, his eyes kept drifting toward a specific splash of color: Yang Jeongin in a chunky, cream-colored warm sweater.
They had been dancing around each other for months in a slow, agonizing choreography that everyone else in their circle seemed to notice, yet they remained trapped in the center of it, blinded by their own hearts.
Hyunjin was the loud one, the one who wore his emotions like a bright silk scarf draped over everything he did. He would linger a second too long when hugging Jeongin, or stare at him with such open adoration during dinner that the others would have to clear their throats to break the spell. Jeongin, on the other hand, was a fortress of quiet affection, hidden behind constant complaints and soft refusals. He showed his love in all the little things he never said out loud — pretending to hate the attention he got on a daily basis, avoiding any kind of physical contact, yet always making sure Hyunjin’s favorite vitamin drink was waiting in the fridge. Or the way he would wordlessly shift to the edge of the couch, just enough to give Hyunjin space to stretch out his long limbs.
Today, the sky was heavy, a bruised purple-grey that promised the year’s first snowfall. Hyunjin stood by the window, his forehead pressed against the cold glass, watching the pedestrians below hurry home. "Hyung, you’re going to freeze if you keep staring out the window without a coat on," Jeongin’s voice drifted from Hyunjin and Changbin’s shared dorm kitchen. It was steady, grounded, and made Hyunjin’s chest ache with a familiar, dull throb.
Hyunjin turned, leaning his back against the pane. "It’s going to happen today, Innie. I can feel it." Jeongin walked over, clutching two mugs of steaming tea. He handed one to Hyunjin, his fingers brushing against Hyunjin’s for a fleeting second. Hyunjin felt the spark right down to his wool-sock-covered toes.
"The snow? You’ve been saying that for three days," Jeongin teased, though his eyes were soft. Hyunjin pouted, an expression he knew Jeongin was weak for. "The first snow is special. Don't you know the legend? If you’re with someone during the first snow, true love will blossom." Jeongin looked away, a faint pink dusting his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. "That’s just a story, hyung. Drink your tea before it’s ice."
The afternoon was spent in a restless sort of domesticity. They tried to watch a movie, but Hyunjin spent most of it sketching in his notebook. He wasn't drawing the landscape; he was drawing the curve of Jeongin’s jawline and the way his eyes crinkled when he scrolled through his phone. Every few minutes, Hyunjin would let out a long, dramatic sigh, hoping to catch Jeongin's attention. He’d shift his position, draping his legs over the arm of the chair, or humming a low, melancholy tune. He was desperate for Jeongin to ask him what was wrong, to offer a word of comfort that he could cling to. But Jeongin remained a pillar of calm, though his thumb hovered over the same line of text for ten minutes, his own heart racing at the sheer proximity of the older boy.
"You're doing it again," Jeongin finally murmured, not looking up from his screen. Hyunjin didn't even flinch. "Doing what?"
"Watching me." Hyunjin leaned his chin on his hand, the sketchbook forgotten.
"You're easy to look at. Why wouldn't I look at my favorite person?" It was a bold move, even for Hyunjin, who was known for his dramatic flattery.
He waited for a witty comeback or a scoff, but Jeongin simply shifted closer on the sofa, his shoulder pressing against Hyunjin’s. It was a quiet permission that sent Hyunjin’s pulse racing.
For the next hour, they sat in a silence so heavy with unspoken words it felt like the room was underwater. Every time Jeongin laughed at something on his screen, Hyunjin felt a fresh wave of desperation. He was hopelessly, ridiculously in love, and the weight of it was becoming too much to carry alone. He wanted to reach out and take Jeongin's hand, to tell him that every sketch in his book was a love letter, but the fear of shattering their delicate peace kept him anchored in place.
Meanwhile, Jeongin was battling his own internal storm. He kept his gaze fixed on his phone because he knew if he looked at Hyunjin, he’d crumble. He’d see the warmth in the older boy’s eyes and mistake it for something more than friendship, and that was a risk he wasn't ready to take.
To Jeongin, Hyunjin had always been a star—bright, radiant, and seemingly out of reach for someone who preferred the quiet corners of the world. He showed his love through service, through being the anchor to Hyunjin’s kite, but he never dared to hope the kite wanted to be tied down to him. Every time Hyunjin complimented him or touched his arm, Jeongin would tuck the memory away like a precious stone, terrified that if he reached for more, the whole collection would vanish. He noticed the way Hyunjin's eyes lingered on his mouth, the way Hyunjin's voice softened when they were alone, but he convinced himself it was just Hyunjin being "Hyunjin"—naturally affectionate and devastatingly kind to everyone.
It happened at 4:00 PM. A single, crystalline flake drifted past the window, followed by another, and then a sudden, thick flurry. "Jeongin! Look!" Hyunjin practically leaped off the couch, pressing his hands to the glass like a child seeing the world for the first time. "It's starting! The first snow!"
Jeongin stood up, a small, genuine smile breaking across his face. "It really is." Hyunjin spun around, his eyes shining with an intensity that made Jeongin’s breath catch. "We have to go out. Right now. I want to be in it." "Hyung, it's freezing—" "I don't care! It’s the first snow, Innie! We can't miss the magic!" Hyunjin was already scrambling for his heavy padded coat and a vibrant red scarf. He grabbed Jeongin’s own coat and tossed it at him, his movements frantic and joyful. "Hurry! Before the ground gets too wet and it turns to slush!"
They tumbled out into the crisp evening, the transition from the heated apartment to the biting air making them both gasp.
The park near their home was already transforming into a silent, white sanctuary. The trees, previously skeletal and dark, were being frosted with white lace. The streetlamps flickered on, casting a golden, cinematic glow over the falling flakes.
Hyunjin was a whirlwind of energy. He ran into the middle of the clearing taking pictures, spinning around with his arms wide, his head tilted back to catch the snow on his tongue. He looked like a painting come to life, and Jeongin stood by a bench, his heart doing somersaults. He pulled out his phone to take a photo, but then stopped; no lens could capture the way the light hit Hyunjin’s eyes at that moment.
"Innie, come here! Don't just stand there being cool!" Hyunjin shouted, waving him over. Jeongin laughed, a bright, clear sound that echoed in the quiet park, his eyes curving into soft crescents, disappearing into happy little slits that made his fox-like charm impossible to ignore. He jogged over, and before he could react, a loosely packed snowball disintegrated against his shoulder. "Oh, it's on," Jeongin grinned, his competitive side flaring up.
For the next hour, they weren't idols, they weren't artists, and they weren't "pining friends." They were simply Hyunjin and Jeongin, just two young men losing themselves in the pure, stupid joy of the moment, just like they used to do in their winter highschool days.
They chased each other through the deepening snow, their boots crunching rhythmically. They tried to make snow angels, but Hyunjin kept sabotaging Jeongin’s by kicking snow over him, leading to a wrestling match that left them both breathless and covered in white. They rolled down a small embankment, limbs tangled, their laughter loud enough to startle the birds in the nearby trees.
When they finally stopped tumbling, Hyunjin was pinned beneath Jeongin, both of them gasping for air, their faces flushed bright red from the cold and the exertion. Hyunjin reached up to brush a stray clump of snow from Jeongin's hair, his hand lingering on the side of Jeongin's face for a heartbeat too long. They both froze, the silence of the park suddenly feeling heavy again, until Jeongin cracked a joke about Hyunjin's "clown-red" nose to break the spell.
Eventually, they decided to build a so-called masterpiece. Hyunjin insisted on giving the snowman "high fashion" features, using his own scarf and some twigs he found, while Jeongin meticulously shaped the base.
"He needs more personality," Hyunjin declared, adjusting a twig "arm" to a sassy angle.
"He’s a snowman, hyung, not a runway model," Jeongin retorted, though he was smiling so wide his cheeks ached. They argued over the shape of the head and the placement of the pebble eyes, their bickering filled with a warmth that completely ignored the plummeting temperature. Hyunjin kept "accidentally" bumping into Jeongin, finding any excuse to feel the solid weight of the younger boy against him. They were acting like children, but every brush of a shoulder or shared look felt like a high-stakes gamble.
As the sky deepened into a dark navy, the park grew quiet. The initial burst of energy had worn off, replaced by a comfortable, heavy exhaustion. The snow was falling thicker now, muffling the sounds of the distant city traffic. The world felt encased in one of those perfect-looking snow globes that looked so pretty disposed on a shelf.
"I'm beat," Jeongin said, dropping onto his back in an undisturbed patch of white near a cluster of pine trees. Hyunjin followed suit, falling down beside him with a dramatic huff. They lay side-by-side, staring up at the darkening sky where the white flakes looked like falling stars against the void.
"Innie?" Hyunjin’s voice came through the quiet like a fragile thread, so soft it almost disappeared between the hum of the snow and the steady rhythm of their breathing.
Jeongin shifted beside him, eyes still fixed on the sky above them, pretending not to notice the weight behind that single word.
“Yeah, hyung?”
There was a pause — not an empty one, but the kind that felt heavy, filled with things Hyunjin wasn’t sure how to say. He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at Jeongin’s profile, searching for something he couldn’t quite name.
“Are you happy?”
The question wasn’t casual. It carried the quiet fear of someone who cared too much, of someone afraid of the answer but needing it anyway. For a moment, even the air between them seemed to wait.
Jeongin turned his head to look at Hyunjin. The older boy was staring straight up, his expression uncharacteristically serious, the golden light of the streetlamp reflecting in his damp eyes. "Yeah. I'm really happy. This was... I needed this. I needed to be here with you."
Hyunjin finally turned his head too. He looked at Jeongin with a vulnerability that was terrifying. "I don't think I've ever told you properly. How much you mean to me. I spend so much time thinking about the future, or worrying about what people think. But out here, with the snow falling... It's like the rest of the world just doesn't exist. There’s just you."
Jeongin felt a lump form in his throat. He tried to keep his voice steady, but the honesty in Hyunjin’s gaze was stripping away his defenses. "I feel that way too. When it’s just us, everything else feels quiet."
Hyunjin reached across the small gap between them, his gloved hand searching for Jeongin’s. He hooked his pinky finger around Jeongin’s, the contact small but monumental.
"I was scared," Hyunjin continued, his voice trembling slightly. "Because you're so composed, so level-headed. You’re so strong despite being the youngest out of all of us. And I’m... I’m a mess. I didn't think there was room for my heart in your life. I thought I was just the dramatic older brother you tolerated."
Jeongin sat up abruptly, his eyes wide with shock, snow clinging to his coat. "Hyung, are you serious? I’m the one who was scared! You’re so bright, so talented, so handsome, everyone loves you. I thought I was just the younger one you had to look after because we went to school together, because you're kind. I didn't think you’d ever see me as someone you could love like that. I've spent months trying to hide it because I didn't want to ruin what we have."
Hyunjin sat up too, his heart hammering against his ribs so hard he was sure it would leave a mark. "You thought—? Jeongin-ah, I’ve been practically screaming it from the rooftops for months! I buy your favorite things, I try to hang out with you as much as I can, I can't even look at you without smiling! I even learnt how to make that specific soup you like just so you'd have it when you were tired!"
"You're loud about everything!" Jeongin shot back, a small, tearful laugh escaping him. "How was I supposed to know this was different?"
Hyunjin reached out, taking both of Jeongin’s hands in his, pulling them close to his chest. "Because I don't look at anyone else the way I look at you. I don't wait for the first snow with anyone else. I don't stay up late just to make sure you got home safe with anyone else."
The silence that followed was peaceful, the final pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. The pining, the hidden sketches, the quiet cups of tea, and the longing stares—it all converged in this single moment. Jeongin looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Hyunjin. The quiet, reserved boy finally let the walls down.
"I love you, Hyunjin-hyung. I have for so long."
The tension that had been coiled in Hyunjin’s chest for months finally snapped — not in a painful way, but like a knot coming undone. The air was still sharp with cold, biting at his skin, yet a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the weather. For a heartbeat he couldn’t find his voice. Words felt too small for what was happening.
So instead, he moved.
He leaned forward and pulled Jeongin into a crushing, almost desperate hug, as if he were afraid that if he let go for even a second, this moment might vanish. Jeongin gasped in surprise, then laughed, the sound bright and breathless, as they lost their balance and tumbled backward into the snow together. Cold seeped through their clothes, but neither of them cared. They were laughing and crying all at once, tangled up in each other, their breaths fogging the air above them.
“Say it again,” Hyunjin demanded into the crook of Jeongin’s neck, his voice thick and muffled by the soft dark fabric of Jeongin’s coat. He held him tighter, as if he needed to hear the words one more time just to be sure they were real.
“I love you,” Jeongin whispered. This time there was no hesitation, no doubt — just quiet certainty. His hands tightened at the back of Hyunjin’s padded coat, anchoring them together.
Hyunjin pulled back just enough to look at him. Even in the dim, snowy light, Jeongin’s face seemed to glow, eyes bright and unguarded. A shaky smile spread across Hyunjin’s lips, something close to awe written in every line of his expression.
“I love you too, Yang Jeongin,” he said softly. “So much it’s actually stupid.”
They stayed there for a long time, lying in the snow, two dark shapes against a vast, silent white. The world felt far away, muted by falling flakes and the steady rhythm of their breathing. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was calm.
The snow kept drifting down, gently erasing their tracks and softening the edges of everything around them. But for once, the cold didn’t reach them. They had found their warmth in each other.
Eventually, they stood and began to walk home, fingers slipping together as naturally as if they had always belonged that way. Behind them, a new set of footprints stretched across the fresh powder — not side-by-side, but close enough to touch, leading forward into whatever came next.