Chapter Text
Keonho woke up and immediately knew he was done for. The moment he opened his eyes, the ceiling blurred even when he squinted to adjust his focus. As he tried to sit up, his head spun, and an overwhelming wave of warmth enveloped his skin. Yet, somehow, he was cold, and every bone in his body screamed at him to stay in the comfort of his blanket.
His throat felt dry as a desert when he tried to swallow, and his body lagged a second behind every small movement he made. Keonho was already starting to sweat from the stubborn heat that clung to the surface of his skin, but the thought of getting out of bed felt impossible.
He blinked up at the ceiling, hoping the already-forming headache would pass if he ignored it. Unfortunately, it only got worse. Or perhaps that was due to his current inability to regulate his body temperature. Keonho couldn’t really tell. All he knew was that, based on the time on the clock, he would be late for school if he were to lie there for any longer.
Biting back a groan, he slowly removed the blanket and instantly felt goosebumps rise along his arms from the chill that greeted him. Let alone getting ready, even getting to his feet, felt like an ordeal. As he made his way down the stairs, he could hear the usual sounds of his family.
His mother was humming softly under her breath, accompanied by the clinking of dishes as she set them down onto the table. He could hear his father’s footsteps from the master bedroom, most likely still getting ready for work. As he turned the corner, the dining table came into view. Keonho’s sister, Seoyeon, was already there with a spoonful of soup in her mouth.
Placing his foot down on the last step of the stairs made the room tilt slightly, forcing him to press a hand to his forehead. Keonho reminded himself to breathe. It wasn’t that bad. It couldn’t be that bad. If he were seen looking anything close to sick, they would all notice immediately.
His mother would fuss, his dad would insist he stay home, and Seoyeon would scold him for getting himself sick, for not dressing warm enough for the harsh winter season, even though everyone knew she was actually just worried about his health. Keonho didn’t want that.
“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath, like saying it aloud would make it true.
Seoyeon spotted him straightaway, vaguely gesturing in his direction with the spoon in her hand to get their mother’s attention.
“Good morning, Keonho,” his mother greeted warmly with a smile on her face when she glanced up.
Keonho walked over and gave her a brief hug, careful not to stick too close, otherwise she might end up catching whatever stupid cold he had caught. Worse, she would notice that he wasn’t feeling well or that his skin was uncomfortably warm.
His older sister frowned when she got a better look at his face. “Why do you look like that?”
Keonho scowled at her, playing the look of being mildly offended at her comment, but also because the last thing he needed was to be discovered this early. “What are you talking about? I always look like this.”
“No, you idiot.” Seoyeon glared. “You look paler than usual.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, noona. I feel fine.”
Their bickering grabbed their mother’s attention, who studied Keonho’s face for a moment. “Seoyeon is right, you do look a little off.” Keonho quickly shook his head, which he should’ve known would be a dumb decision because the dizziness hit immediately, but it seemed to have a good-enough effect because she reconsidered her words. “Maybe it’s my eyesight getting poorer these days.”
“Ugh, whatever. Keonho, eat something before you leave,” Seoyeon ordered, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her breakfast.
A small smile tugged at his face. Seoyeon loved to play the role of being his nonchalant big sister as if she weren’t the same person who cried every time he got sick. Honestly, there were several instances when he acted like he was her child, even though she pretended not to care about him.
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Keonho said, grabbing a piece of toast he didn’t really want.
He chewed slowly, swallowing past the dryness in his throat, nodding at the usual instructions from both his mother and sister about how to cross the road safely, as he wasn’t seventeen years old and already in his last year of high school.
“Bye eomma, bye noona, I’m gonna head out now,” Keonho called out as he slipped on his shoes and made his way to the front door, “Bye appa!”
His father popped his head out from his parents’ bedroom to wave goodbye, adjusting his tie with the other hand. “Have fun at school, Keonho. Stay safe.”
The cold outside hit him harder than he expected. It almost stung, slipping past his uniform and sinking into his skin. Keonho pulled his sleeves down over his hands as he stepped onto the pavement, tucking his chin slightly into the warmth of his jacket.
Honestly, for a minute or so, the cool air felt good. It cut through the uncomfortable, buzzing heat clinging to him and made his head feel a little clearer. He let out a sigh, watching it turn into a small cloud of fog in front of him. He just needed to get through the day.
The walk to school was relatively short, but the world tilted when he moved too quickly, so the journey was a bit of a blur. By the time the school gates came into view, the warmth had crept back in, and he felt slightly lightheaded.
The school grounds were already alive with noise, despite it being early morning. Students moved in groups, their overlapping voices and laughter not helping Keonho’s developing headache. He moved as quickly as his body would let him, making his way inside the building.
“Ahn Keonho!”
He didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Juhoon jogged up beside him, slightly out of breath, his bag hanging loosely off one shoulder. He bumped into Keonho lightly, sending him wobbling, losing balance for a second, before he regained his footing.
“Morning,” Juhoon said, but it sounded more like a question. He paused mid-step.
Keonho kept walking before he realised Juhoon was no longer at his side. He turned around to see his best friend staring at him, frozen in place.
“What?” Keonho asked, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.
“You look terrible,” Juhoon blurted out.
Keonho let out a small scoff, more out of habit than anything else. “Good morning to you, too.”
“I’m serious,” Juhoon pressed, stepping closer like he was trying to get a better look at his face. “Did you even sleep?”
“Yeah,” Keonho said. That wasn’t entirely a lie, even though the sleep had involved a lot of tossing and turning before he could usually fall asleep.
Juhoon frowned. “Then why do you look like you’re about to collapse?”
“I’m not,” Keonho replied, quick enough that it almost overlapped with Juhoon’s words.
Juhoon didn’t look convinced, so Keonho forced a small smile, the kind that usually worked on everyone else. “Stop exaggerating, I just didn’t sleep that well.”
“I’m not exaggerating,” Juhoon muttered, though his tone softened a little. “You’re so pale.”
“That’s just what my face looks like,” Keonho countered, nudging him forward so they’d start moving again. “You’ve known me for years. Don’t act surprised now.”
Juhoon let himself be pushed, but his gaze stayed fixed on Keonho’s cheeks, which were usually flushed pink in colour. He huffed out a breath, shaking his head as he fell into step beside Keonho. “If you faint, I’ll leave you on the ground and pretend I don’t know you.”
Keonho rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I absolutely would,” Juhoon replied, even though both of them knew that he was bluffing.
They turned into the main hallway together, the walls containing the sounds of lockers slamming shut mixed with footsteps and voices echoing off the walls, meaning that the noise was louder than outside. The back of Keonho’s skull throbbed faintly.
It felt warmer inside. Too warm, actually. He shrugged his jacket off his shoulders as they walked, pushing it down his arms and folding it loosely over one arm.
Juhoon glanced at him. “Cold one minute, overheating the next. You’re actually sick, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sick, hyung. It’s just warm in here,” Keonho said quickly.
Juhoon made a noise under his breath but didn’t push further, which Keonho was grateful for. They slowed when they reached their set of lockers. Keonho opened his, placing his bag inside and stuffing his jacket in after it without much thought. The cooler air against his arms made him feel a little better, even if it was only for a moment.
“Keonho.” Juhoon’s voice was hushed, and Keonho glanced up in curiosity.
“What?”
Juhoon didn’t answer with words. He tilted his chin subtly toward the row of lockers opposite theirs. Keonho followed his line of sight. At first, he wasn’t really sure where to look—there wasn’t a crowd forming or anything like that—but then his eyes locked onto Eom Seonghyeon.
Except it wasn’t just Seonghyeon standing in front of his locker that had caught Juhoon’s attention. It was a folded piece of paper sitting neatly inside Seonghyeon’s locker. A love letter, no doubt.
Keonho’s fingers stilled against the edge of his locker, watching as Seonghyeon paused when he saw it. His gaze was fixed on the paper, unreadable as always, almost as if he was trying to decide if it was worth the effort.
Students moved around him as they normally would—maintaining a safe distance from him—but there were others who had noticed the presence of the letter. Most of the people nearby were pretending not to stare. But Keonho couldn’t look away.
Seonghyeon reached in and picked the letter up between his fingers, holding it into the light for a second. He didn’t bother to open it. He crumpled it and dropped it straight into the bin beside his locker. There wasn’t a change in his stoic expression as he did it. Not a second thought.
Keonho blinked, his mind lagging behind, trying to catch up to what he had just seen.
“See?” Juhoon muttered under his breath. “He doesn’t even bother reading them.”
Keonho didn’t respond; his focus was still on the bin. The edge of the paper was still visible, white against the darker lining. Someone had taken the time to write that. To leave it there carefully, hoping it would be seen.
Across the hallway, Seonghyeon had already moved on. He closed his locker and said something to Martin before walking off towards his first class. Whatever had been in that letter didn’t matter. At least, not enough to read or keep.
“Harsh,” Juhoon added, though there was no real surprise in his tone. “I’d cry if that was mine.”
Keonho wasn’t sure if he agreed. Seonghyeon hadn’t made a scene, hadn’t embarrassed anyone. There was no cruelty in the way he’d done it. If anything, Keonho thought it was better to make it clear that he wasn’t interested rather than leading some poor girl on.
But also, if it were him, he wouldn’t want that. Keonho wouldn’t want to stand there, waiting, only for something he wrote to be thrown away without being opened. Maybe he was biased because Seonghyeon’s cold gaze more often than not made his heart flutter.
Not that he would ever admit it to Juhoon. His usually quiet, peaceful, calm best friend would skin him alive and yap into his ear for an hour about how he was going to get his heart broken by liking the supposed ‘Ice Prince’ of their school.
“Let’s go, Juhoon hyung, we’re going to be late to class,” Keonho said, closing his locker.
Unfortunately for Keonho, he and Juhoon were in two separate classes for their first period.
“Don’t die,” Juhoon said flatly as they split.
Keonho waved him off without turning around. “Worry about yourself.”
He could feel Juhoon’s gaze still on him for longer than usual before he disappeared behind him. By the time Keonho reached his classroom, his head was already starting to throb again. Each step felt heavier than the last, like his body had decided it was done cooperating for the day.
Keonho slipped inside just before the bell rang, keeping his head down as he made his way towards the back of the classroom. His teacher for this period was stricter than most, and the last thing he needed right now was to be picked on.
Keonho dropped into his seat, exhaling heavily. Warm. It was warm again. He pressed his lips together, blinking slowly as he tried to ground himself. The heat clung to him stubbornly, making the collar of his shirt feel suffocating against his neck. He resisted the urge to tug at it.
The teacher walked in a minute later, and the room fell silent as the lesson began. Keonho reached for his notebook and pen, fingers working a little slower than usual, and flipped the book open onto a blank page.
At some point, he wasn’t sure when, because both time and his vision had blurred, the warmth faded. It slipped away so gradually that he hadn’t noticed until all that he could feel was the opposite. Cold. The thin fabric of his shirt did absolutely nothing against it.
Keonho’s shoulders tensed as he tried to ignore it. It was just a little cold. It wasn’t that bad. It would pass. He shifted in his seat, clasping his hands together, trying to generate as much warmth as possible without making it obvious.
The air conditioning hummed above them. No one else seemed bothered. A few students were leaning back comfortably in their chairs, and some even had their sleeves rolled up.
Keonho swallowed past the dryness in his throat. If he said something, everyone would notice. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want the teacher looking at him, pressing him with questions in that sharp tone that made it clear he was in the wrong even if he was right.
He didn’t want the attention, the concern, the unnecessary fuss. He didn’t want to be an inconvenience. So Keonho said nothing.
Another wave of cold followed. A small shiver ran through him before he could stop it. He froze immediately, his shoulders going rigid. No one reacted. No one said anything. Good.
Keonho lowered his head, focusing on the page in front of him. The few words he had written down blurred when he tried to read them properly, so he gave up and just paid attention to what was on the board, hoping he looked convincing enough.
Goosebumps littered the skin on his arms. Keonho slowly lifted his hands up to cover his exposed arms, only to wince quietly at how much colder his hands were. His body, which usually ran warm, was failing him. He couldn’t think of how to stop whatever warmth he had left from slipping away.
The chair behind him moved, scratching against the floor softly. It was barely noticeable, but it cut through his train of thought. Keonho hadn’t paid much attention when he sat down earlier—too focused on not passing out—but he wished he had.
Someone was sitting behind him. They were close enough that, now that he had registered their presence, he could faintly smell their cologne. Keonho tried to ignore it, trying to keep his focus on the board instead. Another shiver ran through his body, and he dropped his pen onto his notebook.
A quiet rustle came from behind him. He tensed up. Had they noticed? Silence followed, and a few seconds passed. It was long enough for Keonho to convince himself that his hazy mind had imagined it.
Then something touched his shoulder. Keonho froze, his eyes going wide. There was a high chance he was going insane because the first thing his mind went to was his fear of cockroaches. More specifically, his fear of them touching his body.
Before he could turn, something warm settled over his shoulders. The weight was unfamiliar, the fabric nice and thick as it draped over his shoulders and down his arms. The heat followed almost immediately, melting the cold that had been sitting there for too long.
For a moment, Keonho didn’t move, couldn’t breathe properly. Then, slowly, carefully, he turned his head.
Eom Seonghyeon was sitting behind him. Close. Closer than Keonho had ever been to him. His expression was the same as always—calm, unreadable—as his gaze flicked over Keonho briefly before moving back to the front of the room.
“You’re distracting,” he said quietly.
The words were low, just enough for Keonho and no one else to hear. Keonho’s throat felt too dry to respond, so he nodded weakly instead, even though he wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to. Seonghyeon didn’t say anything else, didn’t even look at him again.
Keonho turned back slowly, heart beating violently against his ribs. What the fuck. He blinked, trying to process what had just happened. The warmth from the jacket spread down his arms, and Keonho curled his fingers into the fabric.
Unlike earlier, the warmth didn’t feel suffocating. It was comforting; he wanted nothing more than to slip his arms into the sleeves and stay wrapped in the heat of the soft fabric. Preferably, stay cuddled up in it while he went back to sleep so he could get rid of this stupid cold.
Keonho stared down at his notebook, the words on the page completely forgotten. Not like he had much hope in the first place, but Keonho was certain that he wouldn’t be able to focus for the rest of the lesson. Not when he was enveloped in the warmth from Seonghyeon.
The bell rang, a shrill that made Keonho flinch in his seat. Students immediately jumped up from their seats, grabbing their belongings as they headed out of the classroom with their friends. Keonho stayed still for a second longer, fingers resting against the edge of his desk, his thoughts lagging behind everything happening around him.
The jacket was still on his shoulders. The weight of it, the warmth that had settled deep into his skin, the faint scent that clung to the fabric. It felt wrong to keep it on any longer. Keonho swallowed and carefully slid it off.
The cold slipped back in immediately, brushing along his arms and the back of his neck, but it was manageable, lighter than before, but enough to make him aware of the absence. People were already filing out past him. He needed to move.
Keonho turned around and paused. Seonghyeon was right behind him. The proximity was close enough that Keonho had to tilt his head a little just to meet his eyes. They were around the same height, but Seonghyeon had this way of making it seem like he was looking down at Keonho.
Up close, Seonghyeon looked handsome. There was no doubt about that. What caught Keonho off guard, though he wasn’t sure why it took him by surprise, was the lack of softness in his eyes. His gaze rested on Keonho without anything he could use to ground himself.
Keonho’s grip on the jacket tightened. All he had to do was say thank you like a normal person. Instead, what left his mouth was, “Here.” He held out the jacket.
Seonghyeon’s eyes flicked down to the jacket, then back up to Keonho’s face. It was his cue to say it now. Thank you. But his tongue felt heavy. The words wouldn’t come out. Seonghyeon reached out and took the jacket from him.
Their fingers brushed just for a second, but Keonho felt the warmth from Seonghyeon’s hand against his cold one like a burn, and he pulled his hand back too fast. Heat rushed to his face, completely unrelated to how sick he felt, and his heart rate picked up, loud enough that he was sure Seonghyeon could hear it too.
Seonghyeon slipped the jacket back on, adjusting the collar, before reaching for his notebook and pencil case. There was absolutely no change in his expression. There was nothing in it that suggested he was waiting for anything more, nothing that invited Keonho to continue.
His chest felt tight. Why was this so hard? Seonghyeon glanced at him once more, a brief look, like he was confused why Keonho was still standing there, before he stepped past Keonho and walked toward the door with the rest of the class.
Keonho’s feet remained stuck in place. He shut his eyes, dragging in a slow breath that did nothing to settle the sudden spiral building in his chest. He had one job. One. And he still failed to say it. Keonho pressed his lips together, forcing himself to move before he ended up standing there all day.
For a while, he walked without thinking, letting the flow of students lead him down the hallway. What was wrong with him? It was just a thank you. Seonghyeon probably didn’t even care. Yet, the boy’s cold gaze had scared the shit out of Keonho’s heart, apparently.
It felt wrong not to thank Seonghyeon. His parents—well, mostly his sister—had raised him to be a polite person, no matter what the circumstances were. It would most definitely be on his mind for the rest of the week, and with how scattered his thoughts felt already, he really didn’t need the extra material to overthink.
He should go back. Seonghyeon couldn’t have gone far. Yeah, Keonho could find him, say it quickly, and leave. It would take less than a minute as long as he didn’t jumble up the two words he needed to say. It wouldn’t be awkward if he got a grip on himself.
Keonho turned around, scanning the hallway. The rush of students had thinned out, but Seonghyeon wasn’t there. He stepped forward, weaving through the remaining students, his eyes flicking from one end of the hallway to the other.
Then he turned the corner near the windows and saw him. Seonghyeon stood a little further down the hall, near the row of lockers by the glass panels that let in the winter light. The brightness softened the edges of everything around him and the sharp lines of his face.
Keonho quickly noted that he wasn’t alone. Martin was there, standing beside Seonghyeon, animatedly talking about something with a huge grin on his face. They were just out of earshot, so Keonho wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but Martin was clearly enthusiastic about the topic.
Where Seonghyeon was quiet, distant, and hard to approach, Martin was the complete opposite. They were completely different, yet they always stood side by side. No one in their year was a stranger to the pair of childhood best friends who were pretty much always together. Some even joked that Martin was the only person Seonghyeon could tolerate.
Even now, Seonghyeon was nodding along to whatever Martin was saying, and then he reacted—it happened so fast that Keonho almost missed it. Seonghyeon smiled. A small curve of his lips that softened his entire face in a way Keonho had never seen before.
Never in his three years of high school had Keonho witnessed Eom Seonghyeon, the supposed Ice Prince of their school, smile. Not once.
Keonho forgot how to breathe. Fuck. Seonghyeon looked so… There were many words Keonho could’ve used, but the one he settled on was different. The sight of other boy smiling didn’t match the version of him that Keonho had unconsciously built in his head from a distance.
But when he smiled, replacing his usual stoic expression, the cold edges melted into something that warmed Keonho’s chest in a way that had nothing to do with being sick. Maybe it was a bit too early to say he felt lovesick.
It only lasted a second, possibly even less than that. Seonghyeon’s expression went back to his default, the softness disappearing as if it had never been there in the first place. He said something in return to Martin, his voice too low for Keonho to catch, but the moment had already done its damage.
Keonho’s heart slammed against his ribs. Oh, he was fucked, wasn’t he? There was no way he was going up to Seonghyeon now when the words felt insignificant to whatever the fuck was happening in Keonho’s chest right now.
He turned before he could do something stupid, nearly missing several steps as he speed walked back to the lockers. Keonho’s thoughts were spiralling fast. Why did that affect him so much? It was just a smile. People smiled all the time. It wasn’t a big deal. Except it felt like one.
Keonho reached his locker and stopped, his hand hovering over the handle before dropping to his side. He still hadn’t said thank you. The thought settled heavily in his chest again. He pouted, frustration bubbling up. This was ridiculous. He was making it into something bigger than it needed to be.
And yet—Keonho’s gaze landed on the bin beside the lockers. The same one from the morning. The edge of the white paper was still visible. The letter that Seonghyeon hadn’t even opened. Keonho stared at it for a moment.
Someone had written that, left it there carefully, and it hadn’t mattered at the end of the day because Seonghyeon acknowledged its presence before throwing it in the trash. Right. That was how things worked sometimes. You could say something, and it wouldn’t mean anything.
For the first time today, his brain seemed to be on his side, because a thought popped in immediately. It was the thought that counted, right? This approach was much safer for his heart anyway. Keonho reached into his locker and grabbed the heart-shaped red sticky notes Seoyeon had bought for him.
His sister had given them to him as a joke, saying they suited him well. Keonho had pouted and pretended to complain when, honestly, he thought they were quite cute. Hopefully, Seonghyeon didn’t get the wrong idea, though technically that idea itself was true, too.
Keonho leaned against the locker and started writing. His handwriting slowed as he formed each word carefully, finally being able to form steady thoughts after that chaotic morning of overthinking. He made sure to avoid anything that pointed back directly to him, because he didn’t want to make it obvious or make it seem like he was demanding something in return.
Reading it again, it did kind of sound like a love letter. He was no poet, but he wanted something short and sweet that would convey his gratitude, which wasn’t the cursed words of thank you. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he signed off like he usually would with a heart, but omitted his name.
Once he was done, he glanced around and sighed in relief when he saw that the hallway was almost empty. Most people, who Keonho should’ve been part of, had already moved on to their next classes. No one was paying attention to him.
He held the note against his palm, stepping towards Seonghyeon’s locker. The soft echo of his shoes against the floor and his heart beating too fast weren’t exactly helping his nerves, but before he could overthink it any further, he slipped the note inside through the crack of the locker.
Keonho stepped back immediately, his heart jumping into his throat as he glanced around again. Still nothing. No one had noticed. The hallway remained indifferent to what he had just done. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the sudden rush of nerves that hit him all at once now that it was done. It was too late to take it out now anyway.
For a few more seconds, he lingered near the lockers, but on the side of the hallway where his and Juhoon’s were, eyes fixed on the one that belonged to Seonghyeon. He both wanted and didn’t want to see Seonghyeon’s reaction, but either way, he felt like he had done the right thing by expressing his gratitude. Keonho just had to keep telling himself that it was the thought that counted.
everyone fears your winter, yet i found shelter inside it.
thank you for proving that the heart of a blizzard can be the safest place to hide.
love, ♡