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Wonwoo was cold.
The winter air of December was settling in on the streets of Seoul, and though their staff tried their best to make sure heating was provided for all of their activities, the chill that ran through his bones did not slow down one bit. At one point in the past, during a more hopeful time, Wonwoo had thought that bulking up and an unbreakable work out routine would get the blood in his body pumping faster than when he was a wiry, awkward little boy. Much to his chagrin, his status as ice prince (more literally now than figuratively, thanks to his audience finally recognizing that he really was just Some Guy) remained unyielding.
So, in all honesty, and with much feeling, Wonwoo was fucking freezing.
He’s sitting in the green room of a show he can’t be bothered to remember the name of because he can’t think past the cold biting at his fingertips, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands in a feeble attempt to calm his trembling hands. Wonwoo contemplates asking one of the managers to turn down the standing fan that’s running in the corner of the room, but then decides against it when he catches Soonyoung sitting directly in front of it, sweat soaked and panting. Post ass-shaking cool down or something.
Wonwoo shifts in his seat, looking for something, anything to help him generate heat in his body. He considers looking for a blanket, but then he'd have to trouble a staff member to go all the way out into the cold and to the company car. The heat packs were out of stock, and someone had already gone out to find some more, so Wonwoo decides his best option is to sit and pray that he stays alive until the heat packs arrive.
Unless.
Unless he considers a secret third option, and to say that he was reluctant to even think about it would be the understatement of the century.
There, seated on the other end of the couch, in all his beautiful blond glory, was Lee Chan, too engrossed in the video he was watching on his phone to notice Wonwoo slowly freezing to death.
Wonwoo knew for a fact that Chan was a very warm person, both literally and figuratively. Always the brightest in the room, he was the first to get a laugh out of anyone feeling down and also the first to offer up a hug and a half of his jacket to a member feeling cold. Wonwoo could so simply ask the younger to cuddle him, or even just let him sit closer, but the almost obvious attraction that he feels towards Chan stops him from even considering it.
Wonwoo wasn’t shy about showing his affections to Chan, of course. He provided a good helping of hugs and head pats, all fueled by a healthy dose of fondness that he’s sure they all feel towards their youngest. But somehow, as they all watched each other grow into bodies that could accommodate all their ambition, Wonwoo found himself seeking Chan out in a way that felt different from the other members. His eyes would stay on Chan just a little bit longer, he’d laugh at Chan’s jokes just a little bit harder, and the brand new butterflies that he felt fluttering around in his stomach would crawl up his throat and leave him a little bit speechless every time Chan would smile his way.
And so Wonwoo created a healthy bit of distance between himself and Chan, in a half-assed attempt to quell these feelings that welled up in him when he was around the younger. Clearly, Wonwoo wasn’t very successful, because here he was, fighting back the urge to crawl over to Chan and tuck himself into his side. Fuck romantic feelings, he would much rather get the feeling back in his fingers right now.
And yet, he hesitates.
“Hyung, do you know when the staff will come back with the heat packs?” Wonwoo asked, turning to the manager sat across from him. The man shook his head with a sorry expression, likely having noticed the rasp in Wonwoo’s voice and the way he was curling in on himself. With a sigh, he decides that today was the day he breaks his self appointed fast from Chan-contact.
Hoping to every deity that the shake in his hands would disguise his unfound nerves, Wonwoo inches slowly towards Chan’s end of the couch. He was going for inconspicuous and casual, a stark contrast to the desperation and exhilaration he felt in his chest. Was it his delusions or was the racing of his heart actually helping with the cold?
"What are you doing?" Wonwoo settles on something safe, starting a conversation about what he was watching, surprised at how naturally he manages to let his head rest on Chan's shoulder. Sure, he was trying his best to come across as awfully easy-going, but it wasn’t very difficult to relax against Chan’s familiar, space heater-esque warmth either. He’d done it countless times before, after all.
Chan tilts his head towards Wonwoo’s voice first, his eyes still glued to the choreography video he was monitoring, seemingly unfazed by the closeness.
"Oh, I was just looking over-" Chan stops, wide eyes meeting Wonwoo’s, quite obviously shocked at the distance (or lack thereof) between them. Their noses almost touch as Chan turns to face him properly, and if Wonwoo wonders if it’s possible for one’s body heat to melt another person into a puddle of panic and feelings.
“H-hi Wonwoo hyung,” Chan greets, something close to nervousness in his voice. Wonwoo almost feels hopeful in his confusion, until he realized that ah, he’d made Chan uncomfortable. He hopes his dejection was not too apparent as he starts to move away, but to his surprise (and seemingly Chan’s as well), he’s stopped by two warm hands landing on his cheeks.
"Hyung, you're freezing!" Chan exclaims, nerves forgotten as he rubs his palms against Wonwoo’s face. Wonwoo’s somewhat sure his face is already a bit warmer than before, thanks to how flustered he’d become in the past few minutes of being on Chan’s radar.
"Yeah, I guess my body never figured out the whole thermoregulation thing," he responds with a laugh, hyper-aware of Chan's hands that were now moving from his cheeks to his neck. They felt so warm against his freezing skin and Chan splayed his fingers across Wonwoo’s jaw, and he found himself helplessly melting into the contact.
"You should've told me, hyung! I could've brought you a jacket, or-" Chan pauses once again, and Wonwoo thinks he sees a glimpse of that earth-shatteringly bright smile as he closes his eyes and silently leans into Chan’s hands. He could die like this, he thinks, before shelving that thought away to dissect later at night when his mind is plagued by the younger.
With only the briefest of pauses, as if he took a split second to think and decide that thinking wasn’t worth it, Chan wraps his arms around Wonwoo and pushes him down, so that he's lying with his back to the backrest of the couch and Chan’s right beside him. He wraps his hands around Wonwoo’s neck, tucking his face into the space between Chan’s neck and shoulder as he tangles their legs together. Wonwoo exhales the frost out of his lungs and into the hearth that is the junction of his collarbones.
"Better?" Chan asks, his warm breath hitting Wonwoo's ear. He nods, slowly wrapping his arms around Chan's slightly smaller frame with a sigh.
“Thank you Channie,” he mumbles, only slightly embarrassed by how sleepy he’d already become. Chan didn’t seem to mind though, evident in the way his arms tighten around Wonwoo as if in reaction to the low rumble of his voice.
“Of course, hyung,” he replies, his own voice dropping to a whisper. Then, so quietly that Wonwoo could barely catch it, he whispers, “I missed you. I was worried something was wrong.”
The pleasant shock and warmth in Wonwoo’s lungs is replaced by a sharp plunge of cool guilt, and so he presses his lips to the exposed skin at his disposal in apology.
“I’m sorry Chan-ah. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Wonwoo feels Chan’s chin move atop his head as he shakes his head determinedly. “No no hyung, it’s okay. But I’m sorry too. Just in case.”
Wonwoo knew that he would eventually have to make it up to Chan with a million and one acts of love, and reassure him that the awkwardness created between them was nothing but his dumbass of a hyung’s fault. But for now, he settles for pressing his lips against Chan’s clavicle and basks in the warmth of the sun himself.