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The chill sets in around five in the morning. It begins at the tips of Jaehyun’s toes, a biting draft that creeps up his calves and drags him out of a heavy, dreamless sleep. He shivers, his eyelids fluttering open to a bedroom bathed in the dark, muted blue of pre-dawn. The heater in the corner of the apartment must have shut off hours ago, finally surrendering to the winter air slipping through the minuscule cracks in the window frames.
Jaehyun reaches out blindly. His hand sweeps across the mattress, expecting to grab the edge of their thick duvet and pull it back over his freezing shoulders. Instead, his fingers brush against nothing but the bare, chilled cotton of the fitted sheet.
He blinks the lingering sleep away, groaning softly in the back of his throat, and rolls over. Beside him, the mattress dips under a massive, tightly wound lump.
Sanghyeok has done it again.
He is rolled completely into the bedding, resembling a massive, fabric-heavy cocoon. The comforter is tucked beneath him on all sides, pulled taut so that not a single inch of the mattress is spared. Sanghyeok’s face is mostly hidden, just a tuft of messy blond hair peeking out from the top of the bundle. His breathing is steady and deep, completely oblivious to the freezing temperature of the room and the fact that he has left his partner entirely exposed to it.
Jaehyun rests on his elbows, shivering slightly as the cold air bites at his bare arms. He looks at the stolen blankets, then at the peaceful rise and fall of Sanghyeok’s shoulders beneath the fabric.
He doesn't reach out to yank the blanket back. He doesn't huff in annoyance or try to pry the edges loose. Jaehyun knows exactly how tightly Sanghyeok is gripping that fabric from the inside. Even in deep sleep, Sanghyeok’s hands will be balled into fists, clutching the cotton as if his life depends on it.
Instead of fighting it, Jaehyun bridges the gap. He scoots across the mattress, abandoning his cold side of the bed. He presses his chest flush against the solid, fabric-wrapped mass of Sanghyeok’s back. He loops a heavy arm over the top of the bundle, effectively wrapping himself around the cocoon.
Near the pillows, the blanket sits a little loose. It leaves a small, vulnerable gap of exposed skin at the nape of Sanghyeok’s neck. Jaehyun ducks his head, slotting his face right into that gap. He buries his freezing nose against Sanghyeok’s warm skin, nuzzling into the space just below his hairline. Sanghyeok shifts slightly at the sudden contact, letting out a soft, unconscious grunt, but he doesn't wake. He just leans back a fraction, his body seeking out the solid presence behind him. Jaehyun sighs, letting his icy skin siphon the heat radiating from Sanghyeok’s neck, and closes his eyes.
There is a distinct reason Jaehyun never fights for the blanket.
Years ago, long before they shared a spacious apartment and a stable life, their world was confined to cramped dormitories and relentless schedules. It was a period defined by overwhelming pressure, where success felt like a distant illusion and failure breathed down their necks every waking hour. During the day, Sanghyeok was a pillar of absolute focus. He moved through dance practices and vocal lessons with an unbreakable resolve, always smiling, always pushing forward. He was the person others leaned on when the stress became too heavy.
But the nights were different.
Jaehyun remembers waking up at three in the morning in their old shared room. The city outside was still, the traffic reduced to a distant hum. The air inside their room felt unbearably thick. Jaehyun had turned over in his narrow bed to find Sanghyeok sitting up in the dark, hugging his knees to his chest.
Sanghyeok staring blankly at the wall, his breathing shallow, his shoulders rigid with tension. He had taken his thin, worn-out blanket and wrapped it tightly around his entire body, holding the ends together with white-knuckled grips.
When Jaehyun asked him what was wrong, Sanghyeok had taken a long time to answer. His voice, when it finally came, was fragile, lacking all the confidence he carried during the day.
He confessed that when the lights went out and the noise of their grueling schedule faded, a crushing sense of isolation always crept in. Despite being surrounded by people all day, the moment he was left alone with his thoughts, an irrational panic would seize him. He felt entirely unmoored, terrified that he wasn't enough, terrified that he would wake up and find himself completely left behind. The anxiety made him feel physically hollow, as if he might just float away and disappear into the dark.
He pulled the blanket tight because he needed the pressure. The physical weight of the fabric trickled a false sense of security into his brain, mimicking the feeling of being held. It was a grounding mechanism, a desperate attempt to build a tangible barrier between himself and the expansive emptiness of the room.
Jaehyun had gotten out of his own bed that night. He had crossed the small distance between them, wrapped his arms around Sanghyeok’s trembling, blanket-covered shoulders, and held him until the sun came up.
That old, cramped dorm is a thing of the past now. Sanghyeok is safe. He is successful, loved, and deeply secure in their relationship. But the body keeps the score, and muscle memory is a stubborn thing. Even now, when the temperature drops or a vague trace of exhaustion settles into his bones, Sanghyeok’s subconscious takes over in his sleep. He gathers the heavy covers, pulling them taut to recreate that pressure, building a fortress to fend off a ghost of anxiety that no longer haunts him.
Jaehyun understands this ritual completely. He knows that pulling the blanket away would only leave Sanghyeok stripped of his makeshift sanctuary. So, he chooses to be the outer layer of the fortress instead.
Lying in the frigid air of their current bedroom, Jaehyun tightens his arm around the bundled fabric. The heat from Sanghyeok’s neck begins to spread through Jaehyun’s shivering body, melting the winter chill away. Listening to the steady sound of Sanghyeok’s breathing, Jaehyun lets his own breath match the pace. Slowly, the dark blue hues of the room fade behind his eyelids, and he drifts back into a comforting slumber.
-
Time passes in a hazy blur. The world outside their window gradually shifts. The muted blues bleed into soft, pale grays as the morning sun begins to threaten the horizon, casting long, faint shadows across the hardwood floor.
What pulls Jaehyun out of sleep this time isn't the cold. It is a touch.
Gentle, hesitant fingers brush against his cheekbone.
Jaehyun hums, a low, gravelly sound vibrating in his chest, and slowly opens his eyes. The room is considerably brighter now.
Sanghyeok has shifted. He is facing Jaehyun, the massive cocoon having partially unraveled in his wakefulness. The heavy comforter is now pooled loosely around their waists, finally offering a meager portion of its warmth back to Jaehyun.
Sanghyeok’s eyes are wide and completely awake, swimming with a heavy dose of guilt. His hand is resting against the side of Jaehyun’s face, his thumb lightly stroking the skin there.
"You're freezing," Sanghyeok whispers. His voice is raspy, ruined by sleep, but the remorse in his tone is unmistakable.
Jaehyun blinks slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the morning light. He leans his face into the palm resting against his cheek. Sanghyeok’s hand is incredibly warm compared to his own chilled skin.
"I stole them again, didn't I?" Sanghyeok asks softly, his gaze dropping to the massive pile of fabric he had hoarded onto his side of the mattress. He bites the inside of his cheek, his brow furrowing in self-reproach. "I took all the blankets. You should have woke me up. You should have just pulled them back. Your arms are like ice."
Jaehyun lets out a breathy, tired chuckle. He shifts closer, closing the remaining distance between them, and slides his cold leg over Sanghyeok’s warm one beneath the loosened covers. Sanghyeok gasps a little at the sudden shift in temperature, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he moves his hand from Jaehyun's cheek to trace the line of his shoulder, trying to rub some friction and heat back into his partner's freezing muscles.
"It's fine," Jaehyun murmurs, his voice a deep, sleepy rumble. He buries his face into the center of Sanghyeok’s chest, letting his heavy eyes slide shut as he makes himself comfortable. "You looked cozy. Didn't want to ruin it."
"I'm going to give you a cold," Sanghyeok argues weakly, though his fingers continue their rhythmic, soothing motion across Jaehyun’s shoulder blade. "I keep doing this. I'm terrible to sleep next to."
"You're the best person to sleep next to," Jaehyun corrects immediately. He reaches up blindly, catching Sanghyeok’s wrist and pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to the inside of it. "Stop overthinking it. My internal heater is just broken today. That's all."
Sanghyeok lets out a soft sigh, clearly unconvinced, but the tension visibly bleeds out of his shoulders. He pulls the heavy comforter up, making sure it covers Jaehyun up to his chin this time, tucking the edges securely around him. The sudden influx of trapped body heat is fantastic, making Jaehyun’s tired muscles go completely boneless.
"Go back to sleep," Jaehyun mumbles, his eyes already slipping shut again as the warmth finally begins to thaw his limbs. He wraps his arm securely around Sanghyeok’s waist, anchoring him close. "It's too early to be awake on a Sunday."
Sanghyeok remains still for a moment, just watching the relaxed slope of Jaehyun’s face. He brushes a stray piece of hair away from Jaehyun’s forehead, his touch gentle. "Are you sure you aren't too cold? I can go turn the heater back on manually."
"Don't you dare leave this bed," Jaehyun grumbles, tightening his grip on Sanghyeok’s waist in warning. "Just stay here. Let me steal your body heat."
A small, fond smile finally breaks across Sanghyeok’s face. He settles down deeper into the mattress, resting his chin on top of Jaehyun’s head.
"Okay," Sanghyeok whispers, his hand resting reassuringly on Jaehyun’s back.
"Just wake me up when you decide you want to make coffee," Jaehyun adds, his words slurring slightly as sleep pulls him under once more. "You owe me a hot cup. For my suffering."
Sanghyeok’s chest vibrates with a silent laugh. "Okay. Sleep well, Jagiya."
Surrounded by the heavy weight of the blankets and the steady, grounding presence of the person he loves, Jaehyun lets the morning slip away entirely, completely warm at last.