Work Text:
The wind picks up, biting at Myungjun's cheek, icy cold and more than enough to wrack shivers down his spine. He grabs at the front of his hood, attempting to add some type of cover to his face. That only lasts a minute though before his fingers are freezing up. A couple more seconds and his hand is retreating right back to what little security his pocket offers.
The park is beautiful—glistening a bright white—with snow almost completely undisturbed. Benches and slides are now blobs of crystal, unrecognizable from the surface. Flakes are still falling now, though nothing compared to the blizzard an hour ago. Flurries are all that's left, dusting over the heaped mounds of ice and clumping up on the sidewalk to form dangerously slip-inducing patches.
The view is breathtaking, but it's getting really hard for Myungjun to admire nature when his butt has reached a new world of numb.
He rubs at it absentmindedly, not like anyone's here to see him. The only life he can make out is far down the path, barely visible if not for its constant movement. Besides that, it feels like he's in a ghost town; the tumbleweed is probably buried somewhere in all the snow.
You'd have to be a complete idiot to be walking around in this snow-mageddon, especially without a reason or a coat.
So really, he's not an idiot. And he does, in fact, have a very good reason for coming out in this frozen wasteland. If anything, Sanha is the idiot for stealing his coat in the first place.
~~~
The snow is really coming down. Not so much flakes—Myungjun thinks—as they are streaks of white in the sky, piling up on every surface till only the smallest slits of color can be seen. He's been staring for the better part of half an hour. His breath fogs up the window every now and again; his hand coming up to write small phrases or doodle as he waits for the storm to settle.
Snow is nothing new. Myungjun had grown up seeing it everywhere. At home, it would pile up in the yard, on the roof, in the streets—forcing many school closings and just as many happy memories for Myungjun to think back on. He'd been lucky to have a house near the mountains, so some of his earliest memories were the giant piles of snow, stretching past the clouds to the peak of the rock.
When he'd moved to Seoul, the heart of hustle and bustle city life, it wasn't too different. He'd never lived that far from the city, so the skyscrapers and lights lining the streets lost their appeal pretty quick. Myungjun could adapt, and he wasn't alone doing it. Though Sanha might be a stretch for a 'mature and experienced' roommate, he was still a friend. He grew up with Myungjun and understood the change that came with picking everything up and moving to a new place. They did a good job of distracting each other and making the best of the situation.
Nastolgia just hit a bit harder when it started to snow.
Myungjun could remember the loud shouts and laughter of his siblings when they made a mess of snow in the yard. He remembered adventuring up the mountain to find Santa with his father. His mother always made the best hot chocolate for when they all came in, shaking and dripping and smiling so hard that they could feel it through the numb of their cheeks.
Even if he was happy where he was, Myungjun could still feel homesick sometimes.
He'd learned quickly that it was better to just make the most of it. He'd think back on the nice memories, call his family, and take a walk out in the snow. Wash away the bittersweet feeling with a bath in snowflakes. And if experience had taught him anything, the storm was just starting to calm down, so he'd have to hurry to see the snow at its freshest.
The loud slamming of a door grabs Myungjun's attention, putting his snowman doodle on pause. He can hear a squeaky shriek come from Sanha, somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door. There are fast paced footsteps going left and right across their small apartment, bangs signaling every change in direction. The kid could walk across their living room in less than ten steps, what-?
"Hyung! I'm going out! I'll be back in a couple hours I'mborrowingsomeofyourstuffokaybyethankyou-!"
A door slams shut again, loud and final before the apartment is quiet. Myungjun is left staring at his bedroom door, almost unsure if the short exchange was just a daydream. The muffled sounds coming from the hallway convince him otherwise. It seems like Sanha's still shouting his way out of the apartment, voice echoing in the hall.
What was that?
Myungjun only gives himself a second to be confused. He's known Sanha his entire life and if he's learned anything, it's that he is weird and can only be explained up to a certain point. A laugh is startled from Myungjun's throat at the familiar scream he can hear outside. He turns back to the window, in time to see a lanky figure shakily stepping through the snow-covered sidewalk. It's up to his ankles, which sucks because that means it'll be even higher on Myungjun and-
Wait.
He didn't.
Myungjun's jaw is hanging open and shuts only when he spins around, pulling open his door to run towards the closet by the front. There's a mess of clothes scattered all over the floor, but he's got more important things on his mind. He's hoping that he saw wrong, but, when he pulls open the door-
"YOON SANHA!"
The closet is almost empty, not that it held much to begin with. There's a small umbrella, a couple pairs of shoes. He's fairly sure that that's Sanha's underwear dangling off a hanger. And normally, that'd make him laugh. He'd probably take a picture to use as blackmail against him later.
The bigger problem right now is that his coat is gone.
Myungjun's head flies back with a groan. He is going to kill Yoon Sanha.
Why does he even need Myungjun's coat? He has his own? He's a head taller than Myungjun anyways—has been since he started puberty, the jerk—so even if it's a little roomy, there's no way it'd fit the baby stuck in a giant's body.
Myungjun starts racking his brain for a solution. He needs to get outside soon, but he's stuck without a coat or the gloves in his coat's pocket.
Sanha better have a good explanation when he gets home.
He spends the better part of twenty minutes digging through his closet, drawers, and the closet in Sanha's room. And while he doesn't find any heavy winter clothes, he does find a couple of his larger sweaters in Sanha's room. He kneels in front of Sanha's dresser, holding up an old hoodie, worn and comfortable over years of use. The two used to share clothes, back when Sanha was normal-sized, but that came to a screeching halt after his growth spurt. So why-?
Oh.
Oh.
Myungjun flops back onto Sanha's bed, a groan once again slipping from his mouth. This time though, he can't help the twitch of his lips. He can suddenly remember a classmate of Sanha's, about his height—a little taller, a little more built. He can't recall him exactly; he'd only seen him once, but that one time was enough.
Sanha had banned him from seeing...what's his name? Minhyuk? He'd banned Myungjun from seeing Minhyuk after last time. Though in Myungjun's defense, it was really, really difficult to keep from laughing when Sanha was beet red and stammering over every other word.
Fortunately, Myungjun knew a bit from Sanha's countless stories. This kid was apparently 'hot stuff' in the most literal sense. Constantly walking around in a t-shirt despite the freezing temperature. Sanha was the opposite, an icicle more than anything else. And some time after getting to know each other, he was obviously starting to get a little worried.
"Hyung, if I have...a friend...that needs my help, even if he doesn't know it... What do I do?
"Help him out. If you're close; he'll understand. Maybe he'll even thank you for it later."
Myungjun didn't get a chance for further questioning, even if the blush lingering on Sanha's face made him want to. With a determined look, Sanha took off. Myungjun let it be. Over the next week he lost three jackets and didn't make the connection till now.
If Sanha wanted him to play wingman, he could've at least told Myungjun.
Once Myungjun pieces the parts together, giggling at the thought of Sanha playing Robin Hood for his crush, he peeks back at the window. He can see people making their way down the freshly cleaned street. They're few and far between, since snow still falls lightly, but they're there.
He still hasn't found a coat. There has to be at least six inches of snow on the ground. It makes the most sense to just skip out this one time, make some hot chocolate, and wait to pry the details out of Sanha once he gets home.
He's going to regret this.
Myungjun heaves himself off Sanha's bed, grabs the bulkiest of his sweaters—still stuffed in Sanha's cabinet—and leaves the room. He slips a pair of snow boots over his jeans before pulling the sweater over his head. He takes a last look around the room, reminding himself to make Sanha clean up, before he steps out the front door.
It'll just be a quick walk.
~~~
So, the walk is taking a little longer than expected, but Myungjun has every right to blame this on Sanha. He should know that something as simple as a coat won't keep Myungjun from tradition. He wonders for a moment just how much blackmail he'd gotten on the younger boy in the past hour.
"Watch out!" A voice yells, very loud and very unexpected on his right.
Myungjun doesn't get the chance to act on this warning before something collides with the side of his head. It not enough to really hurt but wow did it have some power to it. And maybe Sanha isn't completely wrong when he says that Myungjun can 'overreact' sometimes, but it's definitely the force of the hit that has him sprawling to the side and slipping on a patch of ice, a high pitch scream following—though not for long.
To some extent, he thinks he should be grateful that his head didn't land on the stone path. On the other hand, this has got to be some sort of karma for getting blackmail on a child or something. Myungjun had no idea snow could be so dark, but he figures that must be the case when you've fallen into a snowbank.
He can still feel his legs, kicking out and trying to dislodge the rest of him, but he's covered from at least head down to torso in snow. He's got it in his eyes and mouth and really, Sanha is not that innocent. Does he deserve a punishment so harsh?
It takes him a moment to realize that someone is talking to him. Muffled through the snow, that's definitely a voice. His movements slow as he tries to decipher what the person is saying. He can feel something grab at his ankle, and he'd scream again if he weren't so scared of inhaling more ice. With one quick tug on his legs, he can feel his body pop out from the Myungjun-sized hole he'd made in the snow.
His breath comes fast, cold air sharp in his lungs but sweet on his tongue. Someone is still talking, their voice deep and urgent over his head, but Myungjun can't find it in himself to focus. Right now he's just staring at lap, legs curled up where he sits. He can't tell if his vision is blurry due to the banging on his head or the snowflakes by his eyes.
"Hello? Hello?! Really, that wasn't meant for you! I didn't even see you! I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Please, say something."
Myungjun blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice. His vision is a little better. Maybe because his brain isn't being shaken around anymore. It finally clicks that this person is probably trying to help, so he turns his head to look up at the stranger.
He's not looking at Myungjun anymore. He's turned towards the field, calling out what sounds like a name. The area is empty though, and, unlike the rest of the park, it's littered with holes and tracks—what looks like a bumpy attempt at a snow fort. It seems like there were others here, but thinking about it makes Myungjun's head throb.
"Dongmin! Bin!" He's been calling these names for at least a minute now, voice getting louder with each shout.
"The one time we need a doctor and you decide to play hide and seek in the woods." His voice is soft now, punctuated with a sigh of frustration. He turns back towards Myungjun.
Wow.
He is pretty.
The stranger is looking down on Myungjun, a worried expression plastered on his face. Myungjun knows the stranger must be worried for him—which is really kind—but it'd be nice if the other's expression would change. A smile would really make him look prettier. Somehow. It's like science; everyone looks better with a smile.
The guy is completely swallowed by clothes, with the exception of his face, but Myungjun has no complaints. He must've been out here for a while. His skin is pretty pale, but colored nicely with a spattering of red across his cheeks and nose. The cold wind can sure paint some nice colors when it wants to.
He's got some small creases by the corners of his eyes, probably smiles a lot. And a hood blocks the rest of his head, but Myungjun can see a small curl of hair poking out the lip of the stranger's coat. It's a light brown, similar to his own hair, but a shade cooler.
Am I okay?
The earlier question echoes in Myungjun's head; he thinks a second.
I've fallen a lot, but I think I'm okay falling for you.
Wait, that was a thought, so why did his lips move?
Myungjun now starts to realize that he's been staring this dude in the face way too long. Long enough to tell the difference between the cold-reddened skin on his cheeks and the newly blooming flush down his neck.
Okay, so he might've said that last bit out loud.
Myungjun wants to apologize. Cute the guy may be, but something tells him this isn't quite the right time to start flirting. Not that there won't be time later. He tries to open his mouth, maybe say thank you for pulling him out of the ice cave, but gets stopped short.
Now that his head feels half as shaky, he can hear the rapid chattering of his teeth. When did that happen? He also notices that his limbs feel like actual ice, and his previously numb butt could be gone for all he knows because he cannot feel it at all.
"Oh shit." The stranger seems to notice Myungjun's problem the same time he does. That's a good thing, because Myungjun's not sure if he could open his mouth to tell him anyways. The guy crouches down, looking Myungjun properly in the eye. His eyes are scanning, up and down, in a motion that would probably get Myungjun a bit heated, under normal circumstances. That's definitely not happening right now.
"Okay," The stranger says, voice level. "Just follow me, okay?"
Myungjun thinks he nods; it's hard to tell over the constant shivering.
The stranger moves slowly, slipping his arm under Myungjun's, wrapping around his waist. Myungjun's arm holds stiff laying awkwardly across the other's shoulder.
"You need to hold on to me. Can you do that?"
His tone is commanding, voice deep and soothing. He must be a great leader. Myungjun slowly curls his hand into the plush of the stranger's coat. He can't get that tight of a grip, but he's got one. The other moves gingerly, lifting most of Myungjun's weight to help him stand. He's shaky; his legs are stiff as boards, but he's standing now.
"Okay, good." Barely a mumble beside him. "I'm gonna let go now, okay?"
Myungjun panics for a second. Sure, he got up. He has no promises on <emstaying up without some help.
"Hey. Hey, it's okay." Myungjun can't express a lot of emotion, but it looks like this guy can see the look in his eyes, which means he sees Myungjun practically screaming with them. "I just need to let go for a second. I know you can do it."
Myungjun will blame his fuzzy head for why this guy's voice makes him calm down so quickly. Regardless, it's enough for him to brace his legs and not actually scream when the arm around his waist slips away. His eyes squeeze shut on reflex, but his attention is caught at the sound of a zipper.
Myungjun wants to tell this guy to stop—as if Myungjun weren't already a very good example of what not to do when it's cold—but all he can do is shake his head as the stranger pulls the zip down his jacket. He shakes it off his shoulder, sliding the other sleeve off in one smooth motion. Even without his coat, he's still covered up better than Myungjun. Slipping the heavy coat under one arm, he moves forward.
Myungjun is still shaking his head because this idiot is going to get himself killed, but the guy seems to be ignoring Myungjun now. He guides Myungjun's arm into one sleeve and wraps the coat around to fully cover his body. Once it's zipped up, Myungjun can't help the sigh that falls from his lips; the coat is thick and fluffy and so very warm. He had no idea a person could keep so much body heat during an arctic death storm.
Myungjun hopes the stranger can see the 'thank you' in his eyes, even if he's been ignoring his warnings of death. One look shows the other has paused, like he's thinking. His hands reach up. He pulls at the knitted wool around his neck. The grey scarf comes off in two layers. He leans forward, carefully wrapping the band around Myungjun's neck, once, twice. Myungjun has stopped breathing. His hands still after tucking the end under Myungjun's chin.
He's staring at Myungjun, eyes concentrated directly on his face. It's really a testament to how cold Myungjun is that his cheeks aren't flushed the most embarrassing red. With one hand, the stranger reaches up, tugging off the beanie on his head. It's a matching shade of grey, looks handmade. It slips off, revealing a head of messy, brown hat hair.
He lifts the other hand from where it rested, still in the folds of the scarf, to instead brush gently at Myungjun's hair. The snow has stopped completely now, but Myungjun feels the remains of it being sweeped off his head. The beanie gets pulled over his hair a second later. The brunette takes a step back, eyes scanning once again. He hums a satisfied noise, a small smile pulling at his lips.
"Okay, let's go." He steps towards Myungjun, arm slipping right back around the bend of his waist. "We need to get you someplace warm." Myungjun's arm can bend a bit now, no longer frozen in place. The stranger's hand pulls on his wrist, leading it to lie comfortably around his shoulder.
Myungjun has got some semblance of his motor control back, so he does the best he can to keep up with wherever this person is leading him. A whispered thought comes from the back of Myungjun's head that—really—this is a stranger, so maybe he shouldn't be following so blindly...
But he also doesn't have much of a choice, does he? And anyways, the stranger's been nothing but nice to Myungjun the entire—short—time they've known each other. Minus the hitting him with a snowball part, but that was an accident.
Really, this is all Sanha's fault if he thinks about it.
With that logic, he picks up speed, walking alongside the nice stranger into a little strip mall. The stores that line the sidewalk are older-looking. They almost look like decorations rather than places you actually go inside. Myungjun can recall passing by once or twice during a stroll back home; it's not far from where he lives. He'd never thought of visiting these shops though. About three stores down, they're making a turn, and it seems like he'll be changing that today.
The stranger pushes open a narrow door, holding it while attempting to assist Myungjun inside. Once they finally get in, he's quick to lead Myungjun towards a seat in the corner of the room. Myungjun hasn't had a chance to really take in his surroundings, but if the bittersweet smell in the air tells him anything, he's been led into some little coffee shop of sorts. Myungjun is brought over to a booth-looking table by the window, sat down, and told not to move. Then, he's alone.
He really has to think for a minute, if this has all been some weirdly vivid dream or what.
He can feel the grain of the wooden table under his hands. He can hear the indistinct chatter of disembodied voices nearby. He can smell the dark coffee and sugary snacks key to any successful cafe. With the last observation, Myungjun's stomach makes an angry growl. His hands go to cover up on reflex, as if that would muffle the sound.
Okay, seems legit.
So that means getting hit by a really cute guy, almost slipping into his own wintry death, and being half-carried to this mystery cafe were just as real.
Myungjun could get used to this feeling frozen thing if it meant he wouldn't get red when embarrassed anymore. He thinks the loss of feeling in his butt may just be worth the sacrifice.
"I didn't know if you liked coffee or tea, so I tried to play it safe."
The stranger's return is unexpected and almost has Myungjun knocking into him when he jumps in surprise. Once Myungjun turns to look at him, like a normal person, he really doesn't know what to say. Lucky for him, his lips aren't totally thawed out yet, so he technically doesn't have to.
The cute stranger—Myungjun should really get his name—is standing beside the table, a smile on his face and a steaming mug in his hands. When Myungjun doesn't move, he gently lays the mug on the table, right in front of Mungjun's resting hands.
Myungjun's eyes are locked on the drink, not to avoid the eyes pointed his way or anything. His hand reaches out, tentative, to grip the mug; he can feel a shudder travel down his spine. The drink is so warm, almost too warm, a hair away from untouchable and Myungjun can feel it down the entire length of his arm. He raises it to his mouth, taking one large sip. He pulls away on reflex, a hiss on his lips at the burn of liquid down his throat.
It's hot chocolate.
Myungjun may not know this stranger's name, but he's just won Myungjun's approval. He's won Myungjun's heart too, if he wants it.
He takes another swallow, sighing at the feel of warmth, slowly but surely returning inside his body. He's just about finished the drink when he notices the stranger, sitting across from him, watching silently from the other side of the table.
Blood rushes to warm Myungjun's cheeks, and, if nothing else, that at least lets him know that his body's systems are back at one hundred percent.
"Thank you."
Myungjun's voice speaks without much thought. It's rushed and awkward in the silence; but after all this guy has done for him, Myungjun really doesn't want to come off as rude. He'd actually like to leave a very nice impression on this handsome stranger. And maybe he can't take back their first—snow logged—meeting, but he'd like to think it was an unforgettable meeting if nothing else.
"You didn't have to help—I mean, I could've gotten myself out...eventually, I'm sure—but you still did it anyways, which was really nice of you..." Myungjun is somewhere between rambling and sincere thanks. Half his brain is telling him to stop, in case he starts overheating from embarrassment, but the other side doesn't care so long as he can talk to this kind stranger a little while longer.
"So I just wanted to say thank you, um..." His voice trails off.
Name, right. That's what's he was supposed to do.
"Jinwoo." Myungjun blinks.
"Huh?"
"My name's Jinwoo, just, in case you were wondering." The stranger, Jinwoo, offers a small smile.
Myungjun's heart does not skip a beat.
"Right, uh..." Myungjun's tongue swipes out to wet his lips. "I'm Myungjun, and thank you, um, Jinwoo."
His response is another smile, larger this time. Genuine enough that Myungjun can see the expression even in his eyes. Looks like he was right before because wow, did Jinwoo look nice with a smile on his face. Maybe Myungjun shouldn't have drank so quickly; his mouth seems to be a little dry all of a sudden...
"It's no problem," Jinwoo's voice is slow, languid in a way that somehow fits the air of the shop. His expression shifts, something a little less happy and a little more...like that time Sanha did laundry and turned all of Myungjun's socks a bright, unforgiving pink. "I mean, it's kinda my fault you got stuck to begin with."
"My friends, Bin and Dongmin, decided to tag along when I said I was headed down for a walk in the park." A grin lights Jinwoo's face, tongue poking through his teeth when he laughs. "I should've known better."
"We walked for a little bit; the pair of them started lagging behind at some point—which is weird because they're always complaining how slow I walk—and out of nowhere there's snow in my face." He's still got a grin on, equal parts mischievous as it is fond. Myungjun keeps from staring at his lips too long; he's got no head problems to blame anymore.
"I still don't know which of them did it, but someone threw the first snowball and I wasn't about to let them go without a fight." Jinwoo's eyes catch Myungjun's—dead on—by the end of the last sentence. Despite the playful tone in his voice, Myungjun sees the competitive glint already shining in Jinwoo's gaze. Myungjun almost backs away on reflex.
Outnumbered or not, Myungjun feels bad for whoever has to compete against Jinwoo.
"We ended up having a pretty intense snowball fight. Bin even called for a break and dragged Dongmin away past the trees." A look falls over Jinwoo's face, similar—Myungjun thinks—to the expression he himself wears whenever Sanha's being too mushy about his 'friend' situation.
"I didn't ask why he took Dongmin. I don't think I'd really want to know." Jinwoo's face when he says this is completely done; Myungjun's laugh is loud and sudden. Jinwoo seems satisfied.
Myungjun makes a promise to himself—right then and there—that he will find a way to keep talking to Jinwoo, for no other reason than having someone to be a third wheel with and complain about stupid friends and their dumb reciprocated crushes.
Well, maybe there were some other reasons.
"Anyways, they disappeared and I decided to use the time to practice my aim." Jinwoo's arm reaches out to rub at the back of his neck. His smile is sheepish, hinting at awkward.
"Bin and I dance together; he's tall and kind of a quick one. I was just trying to practice some fast-timed throws and, uh..." The two of them had made somewhat steady eye contact through the length of the story, but it's only now that Myungjun really feels Jinwoo's eyes on him.
A huff of air—almost a laugh—leaves Jinwoo's mouth, before he speaks, "That's where you came in."
They're still strangers, for the most part. They may know each other's names now, but that's really just about it. Still...
It may be Myungjun's imagination or just a fluttering hope, but it kind of seems like the fond look from earlier—back when Jinwoo spoke about his friends—might be back. It might be back, but this time for Myungjun.
Oh wait.
Right.
His friends.
A wave of guilt crashes, sudden, over Myungjun. Jinwoo was spending time with his friends. He took away from that to help Myungjun. He's still here with Myungjun. He left and his friends have no idea where he is now-
"Hey, are you alright?" Jinwoo's voice cuts through Myungjun's revelation. One look shows Myungjun that he's concerned, expression not dissimilar to when he pulled Myungjun from the snow.
"Hm? Oh, yeah! I'm fine!" Myungjun's hand fiddles with the zipper of his coat.
The coat that actually isn't his coat and is actually Jinwoo's and how much did this guy give Myungjun again? Myungjun can feel a hot burn on the tips of his ears.
Myungjun starts tugging at the zipper, focusing on the zip as he speaks, "Actually, I'm so fine, you should really take your coat and go find your friends; I'm sure they're worried si–"
"No!"
In an instant so short, Myungjun can barely process that it happened, Jinwoo's hand is on his—grip tight, zipper now at a full stop. From his peripheral, Myungjun can see Jinwoo's head dart to the side. He had been a tad loud, but no one seemed to notice. Myungjun isn't sure if he even picked up on it himself, because right now he's suddenly very aware of how short the table space is between them. It's short enough that Jinwoo was able to reach him very quickly, and, speaking of Jinwoo, his hand is still kind of there.
Myungjun hears a soft sigh of relief before Jinwoo is turning back to face him. This is most definitely the worst time for him to be looking at Myungjun though. He can feel an all too familiar heat burning his skin; its color impossible to miss, even with the slight tan he's got.
"Oh! Sorry! I, um..." Jinwoo's hand is off his in a flash and Myungjun remembers how to breathe.
"M-my friends are fine! They were probably making out in the woods anyways. A-and I shot them a text when I got your drink, so don't worry..." Myungjun's want to see Jinwoo speak outweighs the urge to keep his gaze down. When he does peek up, it's Jinwoo with his attention in his lap. His skin is colored the same shade of pink as when they were outside. Weird, he looked fine a minute ago.
"And, uh, anyways..." Jinwoo's eyes come up suddenly, before Myungjun can look away. He's looking at Jinwoo—his eyes and that smile that does funny things to Myungjun's heart.
"My friend, Dongmin? He studying to become a doctor." Jinwoo's smile get a little wider at that. He must be really proud of his friend's work. Myungjun thinks Dongmin must be a pretty good guy. He'd like to meet him one day, meet all of Jinwoo's friends.
"Whenever one of us gets badly hurt, he says to wait at least an hour to see if symptoms persist before doing anything." Jinwoo's hand moves from his lap, slipping into his sweater pocket. He pulls out his phone and clicks it on, looking at the screen before he holds it out out towards Myungjun.
The first thing Myungjun notices is his lock screen. A photo of three guys, one familiar and the other two a mystery. From the heart eyes, Myungjun can assume these are the missing friends in question. He already feels bad for the longing looks Jinwoo must have suffered through. Refocusing, Myungjun notices the time. He left his house maybe half an hour ago.
Seems like he's got some time left.
"Do you have anywhere to be?"
Jinwoo's hand drops onto the table, allowing Myungjun to see his face. He's got a small, crooked smile on his lips and his eyes are giving Myungjun déjà vu. It's like Sanha's puppy eyes, from back when Myungjun was young and naive and actually convinced by the look. Now though, he can feel a fluttering in his stomach.
"Uh, no. No, I'm..." He clears his throat. "I'm free."
"Well..." Jinwoo's smile is back to full power, and the fluttery feeling has moved to Myungjun's chest. Jinwoo's hand reaches forward, giving Myungjun a small heart attack, before he takes hold of the mug, forgotten off to the side of the table.
"I'll get you another one of these, maybe a pastry if you want? And..." He glances down at the rim. "I can keep an eye on you till we're sure you're okay?" He peeks down at Myungjun.
In all honesty, Myungjun is probably more than okay. What with the additional layer and accessories, Myungjun is almost burning up thanks to the clothes and situation. Cold is nowhere to be found.
Instead of saying this, he just nods his head, heart stuttering at the eye smile he gets in return.
"Cool. I'll be back in a minute." Jinwoo turns back towards the counter, a bit of a hop in his step.
Myungjun watches him walk, eyes wide. He flinches at the sharp pain on his arm. Okay, not a dream; pinches still hurt.
That really happened.
Sanha stole his coat. He almost froze to death. Some angel came to save him, and maybe just turned this into a weird and sudden date.
Sanha was the cause of this whole mess, and Myungjun will be sure to let him hear that when he gets home.
But Jinwoo is his angel and Myungjun will be taking credit for that.