Archive of Our Own

Mingyu’s head was throbbing. 

It was a steady pulsing push, which in a way, was comforting; despite the pain, it was comforting to be able to feel his heart beating, to know that his heart was beating. That he was still alive, because the slow return to consciousness had him realizing, belatedly, that he couldn’t see. 

Wait, no. Wait. His eyes were just closed. With a monumental effort, Mingyu forced his eyelids open, and regretted it immediately.

White light assaulted his retinas, so horrifyingly bright and stinging that it shot a sharp pain into his temples, replacing the throbbing with a stabbing ache that was much, much worse.

“Oh, shit.” The words were quiet. “You’re waking up.”

The voice sounded male, was completely unfamiliar, and came out as a bit of a grumble. Mingyu knew that he opened his mouth, and knew that sound came out, but he couldn’t for the life of him tell what the words were. In truth, he wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say. 

“Great.” The voice was back, flat now, a private mumble. “The idiot is eloquent.” 

It took a moment for Mingyu to realize that he should probably be offended by that because hey, wasn’t he the idiot? Before he had time to retort though, the light was mercifully blocked, Mingyu able to focus his eyes. 

Despite the blur around the edges Mingyu could make out a person leaning over him. The exact form was incredibly obscured with how the person was so bundled up in warm clothes, but their face was largely uncovered, Mingyu taking in round cheeks and a nose pink with cold, eyes narrowed in concern. There was a small mole under one of them. 

“Cute,” he managed out, then his own eyes fell closed again.

“No, if you can, you need to get up,” the stranger insisted. “None of your fancy clothes are waterproof; it’ll be a miracle if you don’t have frostbite.”

Frostbite? Was it cold out? Mingyu didn’t feel cold—or warm, really. He felt more numb than anything. He wished his head would stop aching. The stranger huffed out a breath.

“Gamja,” he said, and then Mingyu felt something wet against his face. And that was cold, chilled by the passing wind, and he opened his eyes again. 

A slobbery Saint Bernard was staring down at him. It was a huge dog, but it wasn’t his dog. His dog was a tan and white husky named Marshmallow, a dog that he’d taken out with him on the skimobile, feeling bad about keeping her cooped up in the winter resort. But where… Where was she?

Fear high in his chest, Mingyu attempted to struggle himself into a sitting position. 

“Hey, hey.” The grumpy voice was calmer now, almost soothing. “Careful. Let me help you.” 

“But—Marshmallow—”

“If that’s your dog’s name, she’s fine,” the stranger said, and Mingyu was finally upright, forcing his eyes open again. 

A snow-covered forest stretched as far as the eye could see. Granted, that wasn’t very far; snow was coming down in thick, heavy sheets, coating and sticking to everything—including Mingyu, the person trying to rescue him, and the completely wrecked skimobile a short ways away, still half-embedded into the tree that Mingyu had accidentally steered it into. A gust of wind from the starting storm had knocked a heavy load of snow off of the branch above Mingyu, blinding him enough to make it impossible to swerve out of the way in time. 

With how much his head hurt, Mingyu was grateful that he could remember that. 

There was a small whining sound to Mingyu’s right, just barely audible above the wind, Mingyu turning to look. It was Marshmallow and thankfully, she did look unscathed, though her harness had inexplicably been tied to the tree behind her with rope and she was straining at the end of it, trying to get to him. 

"What…?"

"I had to move her," the stranger explained. "She’s a sweet dog. She was trying really hard to keep you warm, but it made it impossible to get to you. Hold onto him."

It took a moment for Mingyu to realize that the "him" in question was the Saint Bernard, the stranger doing the work of lifting Mingyu’s arm himself and placing it on the dog's back. Then he hoisted Mingyu to his feet, the dog moving with him, and the hold was needed; Mingyu swayed, a wave of nausea roiling in his stomach, feeling dangerously unsteady as he curled his fingers on the handle of the vest the dog was wearing. 

"Gamja," the stranger said again, and with how the Saint Bernard looked up at him, Mingyu figured that it had to be the dog's name. "Bike."

Slowly enough for Mingyu to keep up, Gamja lumbered his way over to an undamaged skimobile a short distance away. The stranger helped Mingyu onto the back of it, then went and untied Marshmallow, who darted immediately to Mingyu’s side.

"Hey girl," Mingyu managed out, unable to pet her much as she scrambled around, licking at his gloves and the sleeves of his coat. The stranger got onto the front of the skimobile, and with it so clearly in front of his face, Mingyu noticed that the man's outermost jacket said RANGER on it in thick black lettering. Oh, good. Actual, professional help.

"Hold on," the man instructed, and when Mingyu didn't move, reached back and wrapped Mingyu’s arms around his middle for him. "We'll go slowly enough for the dogs to keep up, but we need to hurry. This snow is going to get worse."

"Are you taking me back to the resort?" Mingyu asked.

"My outpost is closer. I think that you probably want to keep all of your toes," the ranger responded. Mingyu couldn't really argue with that, resting his aching head against the man’s back as the skimobile started through the snow.

The “outpost” was a picturesque log cabin, covered in a heavy dusting of snow. The ranger parked and helped Mingyu off the skimobile, Gamja using a rope tied to the handle to open the door for them as Mingyu was ushered inside, Marshmallow darting in quickly. The cabin was incredibly warm and cozy, Mingyu grateful to see a fire already in the fireplace. 

"Gamja, friend," the ranger said, his voice clipped and quick. The word was clearly a command, the big dog walking up to Mingyu with purpose, nudging at Mingyu’s hand until it was on his head, then walking forwards a bit, so Mingyu had a hand on his back again. Mingyu, apparently, was "friend". "You need to dry off to warm up. Undress as much as you can. I'll get dry clothes and towels."

"Oh," Mingyu said. The urgency with which the ranger was moving, his steps quick as he disappeared into a room on Mingyu’s right was a bit worrying, but that concern didn't make it any easier for Mingyu to work the buttons on his coat. While his nausea had thankfully settled during the bike ride, his fingers felt stiff, incredibly difficult to move, and now that he was out of the chill, they were starting to ache, too. 

He'd only gotten it half off by the time the ranger returned, arms laden with towels and warm clothes. He dropped the clothes on the couch and knelt at Mingyu’s feet, working to get his shoes off. 

"Uh," Mingyu said. 

"Lift your foot," the ranger said back, so Mingyu did, needing to stabilize himself with a hand on Gamja's back as he balanced on one leg. Mingyu’s shoe was pulled off, his drenched sock peeled away a second later. The man didn't stop, getting his other shoe off too, and after cursing under his breath, told Mingyu to continue undressing and went into the kitchen, turning on the sink and rummaging through a cabinet for… something.

"Can I ask you some questions?" Mingyu asked. His hands were really starting to hurt now, and a look at his toes revealed pale, wrinkly, numb things that didn't really feel like they belonged to him which, well. It wasn't the most comforting thing in the world. Marshmallow had her nose to the ground, sniffing every inch of the cabin around her. "Who are you, and what's going on?"

"Lee Jihoon, snow ranger," the man started. He'd grabbed a shallow plastic bin from the cabinet and now had one hand under the water, checking the temperature as it flowed from the tap. "I got a call about an avalanche. The ski resort downhill reported one patron—and his dog—as missing. If your name is Kim Mingyu, then you're the missing patron, and once I'm sure that you don't have frostbite, we can call off the search party."

Mingyu had finally gotten his shirt off and wriggled out of his pants, needing to hold onto Gamja's fur for balance again as he lifted one leg at a time. He pulled the dry sweatpants on before speaking. 

"I am Kim Mingyu."

"Good." At that, the ranger—Lee Jihoon, presumably—visibly relaxed. Then he turned, the plastic bin in his hands now half filled with water, freezing for a moment when he saw Mingyu’s half naked body. Mingyu was a little too cold to feel self conscious. "You, uh. Um. Go sit by the fire, if you can."

Mingyu hobbled over. It hurt, which he hadn't expected.

"Ouch."

"Ouch?" Jihoon asked. Then, at Mingyu’s nod, "Good."

"Good?" Mingyu asked back, mildly incredulous. Jihoon nodded as he helped Mingyu to the floor, kneeling again and setting the bin down before rolling the legs of Mingyu’s sweatpants up to mid-calf. Then, with gentle fingers, he took Mingyu’s calves in his hands and guided his feet into the warm water. 

"Yeah. Pain means blood flow is coming back." 

"Oh." Mingyu didn't love "coming back", the insinuation that blood flow had been gone, because he knew that that was bad. "Okay then. Good."

It didn't feel good. It felt like pins and needles, but ten times worse than any time a limb had fallen asleep, Mingyu doing what he could to distract himself by finally, finally looking at Jihoon's face.

Overall, Mingyu’s first observation of Jihoon had been correct: round cheeks, a pink nose, and dark, concerned eyes. Getting out of the cold had the pink flush on his face fading, revealing incredibly clear skin, paler than Mingyu himself, with black hair that was nearly shoulder-length, thick and unstyled. Mingyu’s gaze caught again on the mole under his left eye, transfixed, and though Jihoon’s eyes were sharp, there was a clear worry in them that softened everything, Mingyu feeling rather struck with the thought of how handsome he was. Someone who had just saved Mingyu’s life, kneeling on the floor next to him, doing what he could to take care of him. Maybe it was all just starting to sink in, but Mingyu felt himself tremble, very ready to cry. 

"You're okay," Jihoon said, obviously able to read Mingyu’s expression, sliding his thumbs soothingly across Mingyu’s shins for a moment before completely pulling back, getting to his feet. His voice had gone a bit gruff, his expression a bit awkward. "Gamja, friend."

Gamja, again, placed himself next to Mingyu. He snuggled close, his furry body warm and heavy;  comforting.

"Thank you." 

Jihoon nodded curtly. "It might hurt, but you need to keep your feet in there for at least the next twenty minutes. Can you do that for me?"

Mingyu nodded, hoping the action wasn't too clumsy as he felt his face flush.

"Good. It's only mild frostbite, so once you're warm again there shouldn't be any lasting damage. Here." He grabbed the towel and remaining clothes from the couch. "Get dressed and dry your hair." 

"Thank you," Mingyu said again, getting a second gruff nod, realizing this time that Jihoon looked… embarrassed?

Jihoon began tugging off layers, removing two coats, a sweater, and a pair of ski pants, left in regular sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Then he made his way over to a radio system on the kitchen counter, reporting to someone on the other end that he had both the missing resort patron and their dog, and that neither of them needed medical attention. The pins and needles in Mingyu’s feet had graduated to a horrible burning sensation, and he did everything he could to keep his feet where they were, his toes wriggling, Gamja noticing his discomfort and nosing at him a little. Marshmallow, seemingly finished scoping out the joint, came over and began to investigate Gamja too. 

"Do you feel safe and have the resources necessary to house this person for the next two weeks?" The dispatcher asked. Jihoon’s entire body went still.

"Excuse me?"

"The avalanche has cut off the safest passage back to the resort, and this storm has gotten considerably stronger over the past hour. The other rangers can't even begin clearing it until the storm passes. Two weeks is a generous estimate, but I can't say it won't take that long."

"Oh." Jihoon said. "Okay. Yes, I'll be fine. Do any of the others need backup?" 

"Not as of now," the dispatcher said.

"Any information on what may have caused the avalanche?"

 "A wrecked skimobile was recovered." Hearing that had quick shame rushing through Mingyu, hiding his face with the towel he was holding as Jihoon glanced over at him. "It's suspected that the wreck is what caused the avalanche."

"Okay," Jihoon said again. "Keep me updated." 

When Jihoon turned to him completely, Mingyu felt the very strong need to defend himself.

"It just—it was snowing so hard, and I couldn't see, and… is this my fault?"

Jihoon’s lips were pursed. "No," he said. His voice was incredibly decisive, which did make Mingyu feel a little better. Then, "No one has been hurt, but the resort staff was very well aware a storm was coming. Once passage back is safe, I'm going to insist that whoever allowed you to go out on your own like that is fired." 

His tone didn't leave much room for argument, his—noticeably toned, oh—arms crossed over his—broad, wow —chest. Mingyu thought that he probably shouldn't find the threatening hot, but he kind of did anyway. 

"So we… we're going to be here for two weeks?"

Jihoon nodded. 

"If you don't feel comfortable, I may be able to transport you to a different ranger's outpost, though that might be difficult with—" 

"No!" Mingyu said quickly. "No, I'm fine. It's okay. I just…" Two weeks alone with a stranger, in a log cabin in the woods, presumably with no cell service, where he'd already almost died and nearly lost his toes to frostbite, all caused by an accident that was his fault. Mingyu felt dangerously close to freaking out about the whole thing, and wasn't keen on doing so in front of Jihoon. "Could I have a moment alone, please?" 

Jihoon nodded again, and after telling Gamja to stay, left the room. Mingyu was about to push his face into his hands and… he wasn’t really sure—cry, maybe? —when he was interrupted by Marshmallow nuzzling in on his other side, pushing close on her belly with a little whine so she could slip her head under his arm and onto his lap. Mingyu looked down at her, petting her head, and despite it all it was grounding to feel her fluffy fur, soft under his fingers.

“Sorry that you’re dragged into this,” he told her, though privately, he was glad she was here. He’d been told that he should just board her somewhere, that traveling with her was too recognizable and he was supposed to be staying out of the public eye, but Mingyu hadn’t wanted to part with her. She was one of his best friends, his girl; he couldn’t just leave her in an unfamiliar kennel somewhere for… Well, he was only supposed to be at the resort for a week, but that clearly wasn’t the case anymore. He had wanted to get away from it all, to clear his mind and take time for himself.

He’d thought he was over his ex-boyfriend, but unexpectedly seeing him four months after their breakup at a Cartier event—and needing to act friendly with him, because the public had known them as “friends”—had sent him to a bar by himself afterwards, and then the bar had played a sad love song, and despite the weird remixing done to the track to make it something upbeat to dance to, Mingyu was drunk enough for the lyrics to get to him anyway. He could still hear his manager's tone when he’d answered the phone. 

“Mingyu-yah, are you okay?” Jeonghan's voice was a slow mixture of hesitant and concerned.

“Yeah,” Mingyu lied, wiping at his face and clearing his throat. “Why?”

“Because I’m seeing pictures of you on Twitter at a bar alone, drinking and visibly crying.” 

The media had very quickly decided that a relationship would be the only thing that would cause such a happy-go-lucky public figure like Fashion Model Kim Mingyu to behave like this, and as a result Ralph Lauren, who had shot a series of very parasocial, boyfriend-roleplay-type adverts for the upcoming Valentine’s and White Day season, were currently in the process of reconsidering using him as a representative. Mingyu had been instructed to hide, and just let his PR team manage it all. 

Mingyu looked over to the pile of wet clothes that was his previous outfit. He'd known, while packing his suitcase, that he should probably pack more simply. That he was traveling this far north to lay low, because staying cooped up in his apartment for too long would drive both he and Marshmallow up the walls with boredom. But… the clothes had all been gifts, and they made him feel pretty, and the scandal he was currently wrapped up in wasn't really his fault, so he should allow himself some nice things, right? Why not? 

The first thing Jihoon had done—after calling him an idiot, that is—was to call his clothes fancy, and they'd done almost nothing to keep him warm once snow had begun to fall and melt on them. Because that's all they were: fancy. More concerned with showing off the brand names than being practical. They were all designer, and as Mingyu looked down at the plain black sweatpants and red sweater he had on, the raggedy old blue towel he'd used to dry his head hanging around his neck, he realized that in this moment, despite nearly having his feet frozen off, this was the warmest he'd felt since arriving at the resort two days ago. 

Mingyu wondered if the news had reached his modeling agency yet. Jeonghan would be worried, but there likely wasn't anything Mingyu could do to contact him. Well. Laying low had been Jeonghan’s idea, after all. Mingyu couldn't really be any more off the grid than this. Besides, he hadn’t completely been lying, when he said it was okay. Jihoon seemed like a nice guy, and Gamja was a very nice dog, and the cabin, while small, was a cute place. It was stressful, sure, but there were definitely worse places to be, and worse people to be with. 

There was a light knocking sound, both of the dogs’ heads shooting up. Mingyu looked up too, met with the sight of Jihoon in the doorway of the room he’d disappeared into, using his knuckles against the frame to get Mingyu’s attention. 

“It’s alright if you need more time,” he prefaced, “but your feet should be okay now, if you want to dry them off or something.”

“Oh, right.” Mingyu decided to do just that, Jihoon stepping up to take the container away. He dumped the water into the sink and Gamja, who had gotten up and followed him into the kitchen, nudged at Jihoon with his nose. Jihoon leaned down, unclipping the vest and removing it, hanging it where he’d put his own coat before ruffling the fur on the dog’s thick neck. 

“I have enough food for the both of us, and there’s enough dog food to share too, as long as your dog doesn’t have any allergies.”

"It should be okay,” Mingyu said, Jihoon nodding. Mingyu looked at the kitchen behind him, and food—that was a good idea actually, Mingyu getting to his feet. “Could I use the kitchen? Would you mind if I made you dinner?” 

“That’s—” Jihoon went pink. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh!” Jihoon seemed to have taken the words as a romantic—or at least, thankful—gesture. And not that Mingyu wasn’t grateful, but… “No, I—it’s for me. I cook when I’m stressed out, and this day has been… It’s been a lot."

After a moment, Jihoon gave a curt nod of understanding, then went to poke at the fire. Mingyu took that as a go-ahead, walking into the kitchen. 

While there was a decent amount of food, all of it was stuff that was preserved, or could keep for long periods of time. And while that made sense, it didn’t mean much in terms of variety and there weren’t a whole lot of seasonings or spices to speak of, Mingyu needing to look over the available ingredients a number of times before he was able to come up with a plan of what to make. Then he got to work. 

Aside from the occasional small hum, Jihoon was very still and quiet, sitting by the fire. For a stranger, he was a surprisingly calming presence, giving a hilariously perfunctory little "hello there," when Marshmallow approached him to sniff around and ask for attention.

"Why is her name Marshmallow if she's brown?" he asked. 

"She's a toasted marshmallow," Mingyu explained. It made sense to him, with her tan back and white belly. "Gamja is a really perfect name for him, though."

He used his stirring spoon to point to Gamja, and Jihoon smiled at the compliment. It wasn't just a compliment, it was true; the big Saint Bernard was incredibly evocative of a potato. 

While it wasn't perfect, Mingyu was glad to report that the dinner he made was still relatively satisfactory, despite his limited ingredients. He plated some of it for Jihoon and himself, walking up to the fireplace to hand it to him. There was a small kitchen table, Mingyu planning on going back to sit down once he'd given Jihoon his food, but the fire was so warm that he ended up rethinking that immediately, sitting down next to him instead. 

"Thanks." Jihoon fished around on his plate with his chopsticks, inspecting the offerings before nodding a little. He chanced a quick glance at Mingyu’s face. "Do you, um. Feel better?"

Mingyu held up one finger in a "hold on" gesture, balanced the biggest bite he could manage  between his chopsticks, then fit the entirety of it into his mouth. It always took at least the first bite for all the work he'd done to really take effect, the stress melting from his shoulders as he swallowed. 

"Now I do," he declared, and Jihoon, who had been looking at him in lightly amused incredulity the entire time he'd been chewing, let out a small laugh. Small, but genuine, Mingyu realizing it was the first time he'd heard Jihoon laugh so far. It was a nice sound. 

Jihoon took his first bite, making a muffled, appreciative sort of noise. They ate in relative silence, the last bite going into Mingyu’s mouth when Jihoon spoke again. 

"This is really good. I don't cook much. This is nice." 

"Good," Mingyu said, putting his plate down on the wooden floor next to him. He knew he was smiling, but he couldn't help it. "I mean, I'm glad it tastes good, but I also, I really… I can't thank you enough."

"I was just doing my job." Jihoon’s voice was casual, but the firelight was revealing a pink tint to his ears, striking Mingyu as unfairly cute. 

"I can still be grateful," Mingyu responded stubbornly, leaning back to rest against the side of the couch. Now that he was full of food and warmed by the fire, the exhaustion of it all was washing over him. "I'm going to cook for you every day that we're here so just… Just accept it." 

"Sounds like I don't have a choice," Jihoon said. There was amusement on his face again. "Alright, Kim Mingyu-ssi." 

"Lee Jihoon-ssi," Mingyu mumbled back, letting his eyes close, and he heard Jihoon laugh again.

He must have dozed off, despite not remembering it; the next thing he registered was Jihoon shaking his shoulder.

"Hey." His voice was gentle, Mingyu opening his eyes. It was dark in the cabin now, the only light in the room coming from the fireplace. Jihoon was just—he was just so pretty, especially this close, crouched in front of Mingyu. His hair looked so soft. His skin looked so soft. His lips looked so soft, Mingyu not quite realizing how intently he was staring at them until they moved. "Hey, don't sleep here. You'll hurt your back."

"Mn," Mingyu mumbled. Now that Jihoon mentioned it, his back did ache a bit. He straightened up, feeling his face scrunch. He felt almost sun-warmed by the fire, nice and cozy, but drowsy too; he wanted to go back to sleep. "Where, um…"

"You can sleep in my bed," Jihoon said, seemingly able to understand the question before Mingyu finished asking it, pointing to the side room to their left. Mingyu shook his head, not wanting to cast Jihoon out, but Jihoon was insistent. "The storm is probably going to make the power go out, so I'm staying out here anyway to keep the fire going. Go sleep." 

Oh. "Okay," Mingyu mumbled. It was dark and he still felt more asleep than awake, considering himself lucky when he managed to make it to Jihoon's bed without running into anything. Marshmallow followed him in, hopping onto the large mattress next to him, her warm body snuggling close. Mingyu had just enough wherewithal to pull the blankets over himself again before his eyes fell closed.

Mingyu woke up freezing. The cabin was completely dark, disorientingly so, Mingyu unsure for a moment about where he was and what was going on. The lack of heating likely meant that the loss of power Jihoon was anticipating had happened, but there was a warm glow across the floor in the living room, visible through the open bedroom door. Jihoon had also kept the fire going. 

Mingyu was curious about the time, realizing belatedly that his phone was in—or, at least, supposed to be in—an inside pocket of his coat. Hoping that it hadn't gotten too waterlogged, Mingyu gathered himself from bed, wrapping the duvet around his shoulders and holding it close as he made his way out of the room. Soft music stopped him in his tracks in the doorway. 

The quiet strumming of a guitar, and a gentle singing voice. Mingyu peeked into the room, met with the sight of Jihoon, wrapped up in a blanket and leaning back against a lightly snoring Gamja, an acoustic guitar in his lap. He was playing it and singing, just loud enough to be audible over the crackling fire. 

Mingyu didn't know the song, but the words were sweet, were pretty, pretty in both their meaning and the way the syllables shaped Jihoon’s lips. His voice was higher than Mingyu expected it to be, soft and light, gentle in the private way that he was singing just for himself, but it made Mingyu want to lean in, to move closer, to listen.

Firelight and shadow were taking turns dancing across his face, and Mingyu found himself staring, tracing the lines of Jihoon’s side profile, the rise of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the bow of his lips as they moved. Mingyu could sense a familiar, absolutely devastating tug in his chest, his knees going weak, just a bit, as he watched Jihoon sing. 

So, Mingyu wasn't just trapped in a cabin with a stranger. He was trapped in a cabin with a devastatingly attractive stranger with a cute laugh and soft voice and gentle hands, a stranger that had saved Mingyu’s life and was asking nothing in return, and Mingyu realized, in that moment, that his heart was going to put him in terrible, terrible trouble for this.

Marshmallow chose that moment to hop off the bed and pass Mingyu into the living room. Her presence alerted Jihoon, who froze in turn when he saw Mingyu there. His cheeks went dark with blush, the color going all the way to the tips of his ears. 

"Don't stop because of me," Mingyu said, but he could already tell that the moment was broken, walking in to sit in front of the fire too. "Where did the guitar come from?"

Jihoon was quiet for a moment. "It was in my bedroom," he said, with a tone that was a bit surprised that Mingyu hadn't seen it. "There’s a keyboard in there too."

"Oh." That was news to Mingyu, giving the back of his head an embarrassed scratch. "I didn't really notice. I kind of just fell asleep."

"Did I wake you?" Jihoon asked, letting the guitar go flat in his lap. Mingyu shook his head.

"Cold," he explained, Jihoon nodding in understanding. "And I was wondering what time it is." 

Jihoon glanced behind himself. There was an analog clock on the wall, another thing that Mingyu hadn't noticed. 

"Almost five in the morning."

That explained why it was so dark in the cabin. Jihoon was clearly still embarrassed by being seen singing, Mingyu casting around, trying to think of something to cut the tension. He extended a hand towards Jihoon's guitar. 

"Can I?"

"Can you play?" Jihoon asked back, handing the instrument over. He did it delicately, Mingyu making a mental note to be careful. To do everything in his power not to drop it. 

"A little." That might be an overstatement. He used to play bass guitar, but hadn't done it in nearly a decade. Still, he managed to place his fingers on the strings in a position that felt familiar, and strummed. Jihoon winced.

"That's almost a D minor chord," he said, reaching forwards and moving Mingyu’s ring finger for him. Jihoon’s hands were surprisingly warm. "There. Try that." 

Mingyu did. It sounded decent and a small smile appeared on Jihoon’s lips, so Mingyu tried again. Once Jihoon had helped him through four chords, Mingyu played them in an order that sounded nice, and Jihoon’s smile grew. There was something nebulous about this moment, special and small, a bubble of fireplace warmth shared between the two of them while the wind raged outside.

"I played bass guitar in high school," Mingyu explained, strumming lightly at the strings. "I used to be decent at it, but I've forgotten a lot."

Jihoon sat back, looking over him in a way that made Mingyu laugh.

"What?" he asked. 

"Not fair," Jihoon declared. "You're only supposed to have one."

Mingyu wasn't sure what that meant. "One what?"

"You can't be tall, look like a supermodel, cook well, and be able to play an instrument," Jihoon told him. "It's unfair. Leave some for the rest of us."

That made Mingyu laugh again, though he couldn't deny the warmth that the compliments put in his chest. 

"I'm not a supermodel," he defended. "Though… Don't get mad at me, but I can sew too."

"No you can't."

"I can!" Mingyu insisted, strumming the guitar again. "I can draw alright."

Jihoon’s smile was wide, shaking his head.

"I was the photographer for my uncle's wedding, and the pictures turned out pretty good."

Jihoon was giggling now, watching Mingyu’s face as he spoke, and it felt so nice that Mingyu wanted to continue, wracking his brain. 

"A friend and I learned video editing a few years ago. It's pretty fun. I'd say I'm decent at it."

Jihoon took a small pillow from the couch and threw it at him. The toss was light, a tiny protest of Mingyu’s boasting, and Mingyu let the plushy thing hit him in the face, which just made Jihoon laugh again. The firelight was bright in his eyes. 

"You're so greedy," he accused. “It’s ridiculous.”

"I'm taking that as a compliment," Mingyu responded. He knew he was being cheeky, but it was making Jihoon laugh, laughter that had put pink in the tops of Jihoon’s cheeks. Mingyu wondered how warm his cheeks would be to the touch, if pressing his lips there would yield skin that was as soft as it looked. He was so distracted that a small silence fell. 

"Do you know how to maintain a fire too?" Jihoon asked him. Mingyu nodded. "Okay. I'm going to go and get some sleep then, if that's alright."

"Oh, sure." By the sound of things, Jihoon had been up all night. "Of course." 

After a small nod back, Jihoon pulled a blanket up off the couch and beckoned Gamja after him, the big dog's nails clicking against the wood floor as the two of them disappeared into the bedroom.

Mingyu tried to play the guitar a bit longer, but he truly couldn't remember any more chords and quickly got bored, placing the instrument up on the couch. Then he remembered what he'd come in here for in the first place, trying to find his clothes. They'd been moved from a pile in the middle of the floor to a pile in the corner next to a window, Mingyu unable to help a small whine of displeasure when he had to touch the cold, wet fabric. Digging around in his coat did reveal his cell phone though, and miraculously, the screen lit up. It was just after five thirty in the morning. 

With an elaborate system of cans and plastic bins, Mingyu was able to construct a formation to hang his clothes on, placing it all in front of the fireplace so that hopefully, they would get dry. He stoked the fire again, then when Marshmallow hopped up onto the couch and nearly knocked the guitar to the floor, got nervous and grabbed the instrument, tiptoeing carefully into Jihoon’s room by the light of his phone screen to put it back.

As Jihoon had said, there was a guitar stand in the room, on the far wall from the bed and next to a keyboard. Mingyu tried to be as quiet as possible, then was unable to help himself, turning to look at Jihoon.

Jihoon was flat on his back and sound asleep. He was almost impossible to see, with how a snoring Gamja was lying almost completely on top of him for warmth. Despite what was likely a sufficient amount of fluffy body heat, the tip of Jihoon’s nose was pink with cold. 

Mingyu’s phone had no service, but he had a couple of games and photo editing apps, so he entertained himself with the device until he got hungry, made some food and ate it, marveled at how it barely got lighter in the cabin at sunrise thanks to the storm, tussled with Marshmallow, and rotated his clothes in front of the constantly watched-after fire. Then he was made to rinse and repeat those activities for the next two days because unfortunately, despite what Mingyu had thought to be a nice ice breaker of a conversation (no pun intended) about guitar playing, Jihoon was painfully, painfully closed off.

Mingyu couldn't tell if it was awkwardness, shyness, or simple personal preference. He was holding onto the hope that Jihoon didn't dislike him, because he always seemed attentive when Mingyu spoke or responded when Mingyu asked a question, even laughing at his jokes. But Jihoon wasn't good at continuing with words of his own, and once Mingyu had run out of ways to keep the conversation going he would make some excuse—braving the elements to retrieve more firewood from a nearby shed, braving the elements to let the dogs outside, braving the elements to check on this, that, or some other thing—and disappear. 

It felt painfully ironic, the fact that Mingyu had come out here to escape the boredom of being trapped in his apartment and was trapped here instead. If he hadn’t left his apartment, he could probably get away with taking Marshmallow on her daily walks if he got up early enough or stayed up late enough. He could sneak himself to and from the gym, or at least video call his friends; Wonwoo would crack a rib laughing if he could see where Mingyu had ended up. He was feeling stir-crazy just looking at the cozy cabin’s increasingly suffocating walls, but his phone dying with no way to charge the battery was the final straw. The clouds seemed to have parted on the third day since Mingyu had arrived at the cabin, so he pulled on his now-dry clothes while Jihoon wasn’t looking and beckoned Marshmallow to follow him out into the snow.

It was cold. It was almost unbearably cold, but the air was clear, and the sky was so open above him, and Mingyu took in a long, ice-fresh breath, ignoring the way it made his lungs sting. Marshmallow was bounding around, clearly loving the snowy ground and chilly weather, Mingyu stooping to scoop up a few snowballs to throw and laughing as she chased after them. He needed to move and simply started walking, not knowing where he was going or how to navigate the woods but pretty sure that he would be able to follow his footprints back when he deemed it time to go inside. 

He didn’t count on the snow starting up again. It was a light dusting at first, pretty and almost mesmerizing, Mingyu taking in the intricate details of the surprisingly large snowflakes that landed on his gloves and the sleeves of his coat. But then the wind kicked up and Mingyu decided he should try heading back, just to realize that he was lost. His footprints were being erased by the snowfall and the best he could do was turn on his heel, despite knowing that he hadn’t walked in a straight line. 

“Do you know the way back?” he asked Marshmallow, who had effectively tired herself out after two rounds of zoomies and was now simply walking by his side. If nothing else, the cabin was uphill. Mingyu knew that much, hoping that once he was high up enough, he’d be able to see it through the trees and the snowfall. 

As it turned out, it was a lot more difficult to trek uphill, against the wind, in the snow, than it was to do the opposite. Mingyu’s boots weren’t waterproof, and his hands and feet had gone from freezing cold to numb again, causing a good deal of stumbling. He even fell a handful of times, usually just onto a knee but sometimes all the way down, his clothes yet again covered in snow that left a bone-deep chill against his skin as it melted. A nervous laugh bubbled up in Mingyu’s throat, feeling the dry skin of his bottom lip split when the reflexive smile made its way onto his face. If he died out here, he would have to spend the entirety of the afterlife apologizing to Jihoon.

“KIM MINGYU!” The yell cut above the now-raging wind and was somewhere to Mingyu’s right, Mingyu turning his head to see none other than Jihoon and Gamja, Gamja bounding towards them, a glorious display of flung snow and fluffy fur and drooly, dangling jowls. Marshmallow was overjoyed to see her friend, running up to him, but Gamja was focused in his mission to reach Mingyu, not stopping until he made it to him. Jihoon was following behind, dressed in maybe half of the warm gear he’d been wearing the first time he’d rescued Mingyu, looking as though it had been put on in haste. “What the—what the hell—”

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu started, but trying to talk over the wind was a waste of potentially precious time so he didn’t continue, following the Gamja-led path back home. 

“What the hell?” Jihoon asked again, once they were safely inside and the door was closed behind them. Marshmallow initiated a huge full-body shake, snow flying off her fur. It was a question but Jihoon wasn’t really waiting for an answer, going immediately to Mingyu and beginning to work at the buttons on his wet coat with cold-pinkened fingers. He was tugging, rough actions with a clear strength behind them, his eyes narrow and focused with the singular intent to get Mingyu undressed, which… well. Mingyu desperately needed the blood in his body to go to less embarrassing extremities, so he pushed Jihoon’s hands away and worked on the buttons himself. Jihoon didn’t even pause, just kneeling to work the laces on Mingyu’s boots.

“It seemed like the snow had stopped, I just wanted to go outside for a little—”

“You could have told me. I could have lent you some safe clothes to wear. You didn’t—” Jihoon had gotten his first sock off, all of his breath leaving him in an exhale. “Are you—are you trying to give yourself frostbite while you’re in my care?”

“I might,” Mingyu retorted, unable to help it, "if that’s what it takes to get you to actually talk to me!” 

Jihoon stilled. Then he exhaled, going right back to work without responding, getting Mingyu’s other shoe off too and gesturing towards the fire as he disappeared into his bedroom. He returned again with warm clothes and a towel, dropping them on the couch while he went to get warm water to thaw Mingyu’s feet like before. Feeling chastened by the silence, Mingyu shuffled towards the fire like he’d been told, the familiar pins and needles already starting up in his fingers and toes. He sat, in the middle of rolling up his pant legs with shaky, fumbling hands when Jihoon reappeared, setting the bin of warm water down to move Mingyu’s hands away and do it himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was short and quiet. He dipped Mingyu’s feet in the warm water, one at a time. “I didn’t mean to… to make you feel that way. I’m not used to having people here.” 

He took Mingyu’s hands in his, Mingyu’s heartbeat picking up for a moment. But Jihoon was just examining his fingers and after some consideration, put Mingyu’s hands in the warm water too, his fingertips trailing across Mingyu’s palms as he drew back. 

“I’m intruding,” Mingyu acknowledged. “I know that, but… Like, we’re stuck here, right? So we might as well get to know each other, you know? I want…" The words were going to sound flirtatious. Mingyu decided to say them anyway. "I want to get to know you, Jihoon-ssi.” 

Jihoon’s cheeks were pink, but Mingyu couldn't tell if it was from the statement or the lingering chill. Either way, Jihoon was avoiding Mingyu’s eyes.

“Me?”

Mingyu gestured around the cabin. “Who else?” 

That got a light laugh, Jihoon taking Mingyu’s dripping hand and putting it back in the water. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he chastised, but he was smiling a little. “Don’t move for a minute.”

He’d pulled out a small tub of something that Mingyu hadn’t noticed, under all the clothes and the towel that he’d brought: petroleum jelly, medical grade, in an incredibly boring container. Jihoon gathered some onto the pad of his middle finger before leaning in. He took Mingyu’s chin in his free hand, and while his grip was light, Mingyu’s breath went still in his chest. Then Jihoon touched his fingertip to Mingyu’s split lip. 

Mingyu felt his body light up. Forget the fire; this was more than enough to warm him, staring at the way Jihoon’s eyes were fixed with a sort of singular intensity on his mouth. The touch was feather-light, tracing Mingyu’s lips a few times, always just a little extra careful across the split skin. Mingyu couldn't really feel the injury anymore, truth be told; every molecule of him was centered on Jihoon’s touch, with the same sort of buzzing, tingly sensation that a good kiss could sometimes leave behind. Between the different lipsticks and glosses that Mingyu had worn in the past, the jelly was sticky in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it did soothe the dry skin, and it was more than worth it to have Jihoon leaned in like this, touching him like this. 

“There,” Jihoon murmured, pulling back. Mingyu had to swallow and lean back in turn. 

"Thanks," he answered. He didn't know how affected he sounded, proud that he'd managed to speak at all, but Jihoon showed no signs of noticing anything, closing the container with a snap. Then he got to his feet, taking his own outerwear off and hanging it up before sitting back down across from Mingyu on the floor, which was already such a noticeable change from the days previously that all Mingyu really felt able to do was look at him.

“Um.” Jihoon reached up, his fingers fiddling cutely with the tip of one of his ears. “I don't know where to start. I can’t think of anything interesting.” 

Oh. Jihoon had taken his complaint seriously, and was offering conversation. That was much more in Mingyu’s wheelhouse than unexpected lip touching, and he sat up straighter. 

“Well, we can start with the basics,” he said, doing what he could to pull himself together. “Like… How old are you? What job do you have?”

“Twenty-eight,” Jihoon reported, and Mingyu blinked in surprise. Jihoon—he had such a cute face, and such a youthful laugh, and Mingyu hadn't been able to ignore the fact that Jihoon was a whole head and shoulders shorter than him. 

“You’re older than me,” he couldn’t help but say, and Jihoon looked equally surprised at that. “You’re my hyung.”

Then the overly familiar term echoed back to Mingyu, and he floundered for a moment, feeling his face burn. 

“Or—I mean you, you could be I guess, but I'm—I’m not just going to start calling you hyung, I was just surprised, it’s—”

“You can,” Jihoon cut in. He was staring directly into the fire, instead of up at Mingyu. “Call me hyung. If you want.”

Mingyu paused, swallowing, resisting the urge to bite or lick his sticky lips. “Oh.” 

That, for some reason, seemed to fluster Jihoon in turn, his face going bright pink. 

"Just… We're getting to know each other, so…"  

"Right. Yeah." Mingyu felt near-itchy with embarrassment, but he didn't want Jihoon to retract the offer. "Thanks, hyung."

Jihoon gave a curt nod. Even his neck had some blush to it now. 

“I’m only a ranger part time,” he continued, barrelling on with a complete refusal to acknowledge the fluster on either of their faces. “During the heavy winter season, when they’re understaffed. Late November to late February, usually. The rest of the time I’m a personal trainer in Seoul. You?”

A personal trainer. That explained all the muscles. 

“I’m a model,” Mingyu admitted, and Jihoon’s gaze darted towards him in a way that looked accusatory. 

“You said that you weren’t.” 

“I’m not a super model,” Mingyu countered. “That’s different. I’m just… A normal one. You know, fashion magazines and advertisements and stuff. Maintaining my Instagram properly. I don’t like all of the dieting and dehydrating that goes into fashion shows, so I haven’t really walked in one since I was twenty. I’m twenty-seven now.”

“A normal one,” Jihoon echoed, something disbelieving in his voice. "Fashion shows. Instagram?”

“Yeah.” Mingyu grinned, letting himself get a little cheeky again, since Jihoon had seemed to like it the first time. “You should follow me.” 

Jihoon gave a snort of a laugh and smiled back. The comfortable air was returning so Mingyu decided to push his luck, to push this new limit, lowering his eyes and letting his voice get pouty. He was curious about what would happen.

"Hyung, my hands really hurt." 

Using the term was a bit exhilarating, almost as exhilarating as the idea of Jihoon responding to it. Would Jihoon say something sweet? Use some gentle touch, as he'd done with Mingyu’s split lip?

Jihoon’s expression was a bit amused, his tone mild.

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

"I—hey!" Mingyu exclaimed, and Jihoon just laughed at him again, the sound putting a smile on Mingyu’s face. 

The snowfall Mingyu got caught in seemed to be the last of the worst of it, because miraculously, the power returned in the evening. Mingyu plugged in his phone, sitting on the couch and waiting for it to charge.

"Am I going to be able to use this as, you know, a phone?" he asked Jihoon. Jihoon nodded.

"There are a few towers in the woods," he said. "Signal should come back once the storm completely passes, but it's not the most reliable."

Mingyu nodded in understanding, though he wasn't sure if the good of contacting the outside world quite outweighed the corporate mess that was undoubtedly waiting for him. Hopefully it wouldn't be too bad. 

Thankfully though, by the next day, Mingyu’s phone was still nothing more than a light up brick to play games on. Despite the excitement of yesterday and the nice chat he had with Jihoon over breakfast—Mingyu was figuring out Jihoon’s sense of humor, enjoying how much it was like his own and using that to make Jihoon laugh as much as he could—Mingyu still couldn’t help but feel a little too cooped up, a little bored just sitting here, without anything to do. He knew that he was a person that liked to go out, to have experiences and learn new things, but he’d never felt that truth quite as starkly as he did now. 

Soft piano music came floating towards him through Jihoon’s open bedroom door, Mingyu sitting up to peek over the back of the couch. Jihoon was at the piano, on the piano bench, his posture less perfect than Mingyu would initially expect, but fit more with the relaxed air that Mingyu had come to notice from Jihoon when music was involved. His expression was calm, his hands graceful and movements self-assured as he danced his way across the black and white keys. Mingyu wanted to hear the music better, getting up from the couch as quietly as he could and moving in closer, stopping in the doorway. 

Jihoon played for only a moment more before pausing, speaking without turning around.

“Stop being creepy.” 

That startled a laugh out of Mingyu, which had Jihoon turning his way, Mingyu ducking his head in apology as he entered. He didn’t plan on sitting down with him but Jihoon moved to the side without asking, making room on the piano bench, so Mingyu did. Jihoon turned to him.

“Can you play the piano too?” he asked. The sheepish smile that Mingyu felt growing on his face was reflexive. 

“No, actually.” Mingyu looked down at the expanse of keys. They were dizzyingly identical, way too many to remember which sound belonged to which key. “Maybe you could teach me?” 

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, an amused upturn to his lips. “Really?” 

“What else are we supposed to do?” Mingyu asked back, and Jihoon’s smile grew. “I like learning stuff. I’m a great student, I promise.” 

Jihoon gave his head a small shake, then pointed to one of the keys. 

“That’s middle C,” he said. “Put your thumb on it, and space your other fingers properly. There, there you go.” 

With assistance that didn’t entirely feel necessary, but Mingyu certainly wasn’t complaining about, Jihoon made sure that each finger of Mingyu’s right hand was squarely on the subsequent white key. 

“The black keys are sharps and flats,” Jihoon continued. "Try pushing down on each key individually."

He gestured to Mingyu’s hand as he spoke, so Mingyu did. The notes came out uneven—it was harder than expected, Mingyu’s ring finger almost tripping him up with how immediately it wanted to follow after his middle finger. So Mingyu did it again, and it went better that time, Jihoon nodding. 

"That's a five-finger scale," he said. "Now, place your other thumb on the C that's an octave down."

He gestured to the keys, Mingyu looking down at them. After a moment of hesitation, he was able to see it, the small pattern of black and white keys. He chose a key, trying to act decisive but unable not to look at Jihoon's face for approval. Jihoon smiled again. 

"Good job," he said. "Though, you also could have just counted. There are eight notes in an octave, right?" He tapped the top of Mingyu’s right thumb with his pointer finger, just enough pressure to push the key down, then trailed down the keys until he made it to Mingyu's left thumb, pushing that one too. C, B, A, G, F, E, D, C. "Now play this scale too."

Mingyu did, the first attempt going a bit better than expected, likely on account of him being left handed. 

"Those are the basics," Jihoon said with a shrug. "Playing with both hands separately can be hard, and reading the lines for both hands at once is basically impossible so there's some memorization involved, but…" 

He trailed off, and Mingyu nodded. He played the scales again, this time both hands at once and yeah, it was kind of hard. But he was already feeling that small ambitious itch, that frustration at not being good enough at something, that desire to impress someone that, well, he wanted to impress. He had what could be up to a week and a half here, with nothing else to do except care for his dog and subtly flirt with Jihoon; maybe he could learn some piano while he was at it. That would even fit into the "flirt with Jihoon" plan anyway.

"Do you have a favorite piece?" he asked. Maybe Mingyu could learn how to play it. Jihoon fell into thought, his head tilted, his lips slightly bunched together. 

"I don't know about my favorite," he finally said. "But… out of ones that I know…"

Then he put his fingers on the piano and started to play. Jihoon's right hand moved quickly across the keys, his left hand traveling through a slower melody line. Jihoon's hands were incredibly pretty, surprisingly so, long and slender instrument-trained fingers that tapered down to pink nail beds. They were mesmerizing to watch, and Mingyu took in a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly in a desperate bid to keep from saying something embarrassing. 

There was no sheet music out, all of the notes clearly coming from memory—that memorization Jihoon had mentioned, Mingyu supposed. It was a light but familiar melody, though Mingyu wasn't sure why or how he knew it.

"I recognize this song," he told Jihoon. Jihoon nodded, reaching across Mingyu to tap at a higher note key, a little ringing ding!  

"Für Elise," he said. The words were completely unfamiliar, but Mingyu didn't think he knew the actual names of any classical songs at all, so that wasn't too surprising. "Beethoven." 

Well, Mingyu did recognize the name Beethoven. He couldn't learn this song though, especially without sheet music. Jihoon played through the recognizable part of the melody a few times before slowing down and trailing away, his hands falling back into his lap. 

"Any songs that you like that I could learn?" Mingyu tried again. Jihoon looked surprised at that, and after a moment, got off the bench and walked over to a closed cardboard box on the other side of the guitar stand, moving a speaker off of it and opening it up. It was full of slim books, books of sheet music for various instruments; guitar and piano, sure, but as Jihoon tossed them out of the box and onto the bed, Mingyu saw some for drums, clarinet, and even saxophone. He was beginning to suspect that Jihoon was some kind of musical genius. 

Eventually, he found a book that he was satisfied with. It was clearly old, and he turned to a page that had already been dog-eared. 

"You'll probably know this piece too," he said, pulling up the collapsed music stand apparatus on the keyboard and propping up the book. "It's pretty popular, which could help with learning it, but it's not actually too technical." 

River Flows In You by Yiruma. That song had enough of a foothold in pop culture for Mingyu to recognize it, Jihoon leaning over Mingyu’s shoulder to tap out the first few opening notes. His chest was warm against Mingyu’s back. Mingyu leaned back a bit, just enough to feel it, but Jihoon didn't move away; instead, he lifted his free hand and rested it on Mingyu’s shoulder. A small thrill ran through Mingyu's stomach.

"It's in F Minor," Jihoon continued, pointing to the three sharp signs in front of the clef symbols, "so all of the Cs, Gs, and Fs in the piece are sharp. I marked the first few lines when I started learning it."

Sure enough, there were some little hashtag-looking symbols littering the page in faded pencil. Mingyu felt out of his element, but Jihoon knew his own collection; he likely didn't have anything simpler, and Mingyu had never been one to back down from a challenge. 

"Could I write on it too?" he asked. Jihoon nodded, rubbing his thumb against Mingyu’s shoulder before completely stepping back. "And do you have any tape?"

After some searching, Jihoon was able to procure some from the back of a cabinet. Mingyu labeled all of the keys for both basic hand positions, then got to work. 

They had cell service the next day. Mingyu's phone began exploding, the screen filling with notifications, KakaoTalk messages and missed calls and Instagram DMs. Jeonghan was the most pressing person he needed to respond to, and once Jihoon had disappeared into his bedroom, his phone also ringing, Mingyu gave Jeonghan a call. 

"Mingyu-yah?" There was concern in Jeonghan’s voice, from the moment he picked up the phone, and that was kind of nice. "Are you okay? There's all this stuff about a storm, and an avalanche—I've been calling the resort twice a day, but they say you still aren't there."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he answered. "I'm not at the resort. I… I was out when the avalanche happened and the storm started. I got picked up by this ranger guy, and there's no safe passage back yet, so… We're in a cabin."

"You're in a cabin in the woods with a stranger?" Jeonghan asked back. "That's… did you ever get any of your body parts insured?"

"Oh, shut up." Mingyu was well aware that on paper, the situation did sound like it could be a horror movie, but it wasn't. "He's really nice, and he's saved my life twice. He's not going to, I don't know, chop my legs off or something." 

"Okay, good." There was a slight shuffling of papers in the background, Jeonghan rattling off a handful of updates about ongoing projects, things that were proceeding on schedule, but Mingyu was only really half listening; light snowfall had started up out the window, despite the sun being out, the snowflakes glittering as they fell. A sigh from Jeonghan caught his attention. "But your absence… it's been noticed, to say the least. You're behind on two branded posts—CELINE has been understanding about the situation, but the Dolce and Gabbana one was already off schedule due to everything else, and their rep guy has been sending me vague emails with threatening contract clauses in them for the past three days." 

"Sorry," Mingyu felt the need to say. Jeonghan made a small, noncommittal sound.

"That guy has always been a jerk. It’s fine. The main problem though… Well, completely disappearing after what happened isn't really helping dispel the rumors. It's kind of making everything worse."

"You told me to disappear!" Mingyu protested.

"Not like this!" Jeonghan protested back. "We had people in PR drafting posts, there was this whole… you know, it doesn't really matter anymore. How reliable is your service there?"

"It's not great."

"Can you post on Instagram?"

Mingyu didn't know. He hadn't even attempted loading the app yet. 

"I can try?"

"Okay. Take some nice pictures, and we'll work on putting together what needs to be in your explanation post. Write one out, send it to me, I'll approve it, and then hopefully Ralph Lauren likes the excuse, because they're still on the fence."

"Does it count as an excuse if it's literally what happened to me?" 

"Yah, semantics," Jeonghan complained at him. "Don't be fussy, Mingyu-yah. I love you, alright?" 

"Love you too," Mingyu grumbled back, because for better or for worse, over the years of working together, Jeonghan had become a close personal friend. 

"Keep in touch."

"I'll try."

The call disconnected and Mingyu let out a sigh, letting his phone fall into his lap and his head fall against the back cushion on the couch. 

"So… you needed to disappear?" 

Mingyu’s eyes snapped open, turning his head to see Jihoon standing in the doorway to his bedroom. He didn't look all that suspicious or concerned, but he hadn't said the words like a joke either.

"Uh." Mingyu ran a quick cost-analysis in his head, the pros and cons of explaining the situation. 

Pros: knowing that he was someone that had publicly cried in a bar to an EDM remix over an old ex would definitely make him the least threatening person in the entire world to be trapped in a remote cabin with. 

Cons: one, he would have to think and talk about the incident, which he'd been trying to avoid at all costs; two, one more person knowing the truth—someone that was only a little less than a stranger—could increase the chance of that truth actually coming out; and three, Mingyu didn't know how Jihoon would react to the idea of him dating a man. He could try dancing around that specific detail, sure, but that might be awkward and Mingyu didn't want to run the risk of his explanation sounding disingenuous. Plus, then Jihoon might mistake him as straight, and Mingyu didn't want that to happen either. 

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and letting his weight rest against the doorframe.

"It just—it’s work," Mingyu finally said. "The media, and… Something dumb happened at work. I promise that it's not serious." 

"You're not going to kill me in my sleep?"

"No!" Mingyu exclaimed, and that had Jihoon giggling, shifting his weight off the wall and walking over. "No, no. I would never, hyung."

"Sure."

"No, really! What can I do to convince you?"

Jihoon shook his head a little, sitting on the floor next to the couch so he could pet a sleeping Gamja.

"You don't need to convince me. I watched you hit yourself in the face with a spatula this morning, Mingyu-yah. I'm pretty sure I could take you." 

Mingyu hadn't expected the teasing, sticking a leg out to kick at him. That made Jihoon laugh out loud, catching Mingyu’s ankle in one hand and giving it a small tug. The display of strength was incredibly casual, and despite the way Mingyu was leaned completely against the back of the couch, it had his entire body dragging a few centimeters across the cushions. Personal trainer, Mingyu remembered. His stomach had flipped over about five times before Jihoon let him go.

"In a fight, I mean. But I'll sleep with one eye open."

In—in a fight. Right. Mingyu buried his face in his phone screen in a desperate attempt to regain control of himself, Jihoon cooing at Marshmallow as she walked over and began nosing at Gamja's thick fur. 

Mingyu had an Instagram post to busy himself with, reading over Jeonghan’s specifications a handful of times before looking at Jihoon again.

"Could I mention you in my next Instagram post?" he asked. "I won't do it by name, but… you did save my life. You deserve credit for that." 

Despite seeming hesitant, Jihoon did eventually consent, even allowing Mingyu to post a cute picture of Marshmallow curled up with Gamja, which Mingyu put in between a shot of the snowy outdoors and a selfie in front of the roaring fireplace. The only lie in the statement was that the trip to the resort had been pre-planned, to imply that the timing was purely coincidental. The hope was that when sandwiched in with other truths about the avalanche and the storm, things that could be checked on local news sites—and the fact that the one person that had been caught out in the weather was Mingyu, something that the resort had been given permission to confirm if called by the press—then it would all come off as true. He'd lost internet connection completely against his will, because he was trapped out in the elements, not because he was hiding from a relationship scandal. Nope. Not at all. 

He ended the post with an encouragement to stay warm, then spent the rest of the day responding to friends and family, assuring people things were fine and he was safe—Wonwoo did, as Mingyu had expected, crack a rib laughing at him—trying to put the worries about work out of his mind. There was nothing left to do but wait for some kind of response from Ralph Lauren. 

There was no response for the rest of the evening. No response when Mingyu woke up the next morning. When a full twenty-four hours had passed with no news, Mingyu was truly starting to feel anxious about it, cooking a full dinner and doing all of the dishes and eventually sitting himself down at the piano, hoping he could distract himself with the song he was supposed to be learning. 

He was making some progress. It was definitely hard, and Mingyu could only really get through the first two lines on his right hand, but that had enough of the recognizable melody in it that he figured he might be able to show off the skill sometime soon, and not get too heavily mocked online. It felt more like muscle memory, though, than actually learning; Mingyu wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this if he were given sheet music that wasn’t marked up exactly the same way his was, or if he had to play on a keyboard that wasn’t labeled like this, despite not really needing the labels anymore. It was about the familiarity. 

Mingyu hit a note that wasn’t right for what he was playing, but sounded right for something else, hitting the key three more times before he figured it out. He had to stare very hard at the keys, but after some trial and error, was able to tap out what sounded like the first nine notes to the song that Jihoon had played for him a few days prior. 

“Hey, hyung!” He turned towards Jihoon, who was flat on his back on his bed behind Mingyu, scrolling on his phone. At the words, Jihoon lowered the device to look at him. “Listen!”  

He played what he had discovered, and a smile made its way onto Jihoon’s face. 

“That’s close,” he told Mingyu, sitting up a bit straighter. “You’re about a half octave off, though.” 

“Really?” Mingyu frowned, playing again. Jihoon nodded. 

“The starting note is supposed to be up here,” he explained, lifting his hand when he said “up” and singing a tone that was a few steps higher than what Mingyu was doing. Mingyu traversed the keyboard with his fingers until he found it, then played the start again, and Jihoon grinned at him. “There you go.” 

“I think you’re a musical genius,” Mingyu told him, and that had Jihoon laughing, his phone falling flat against his chest, his full attention on Mingyu now.

“I’m really not.”

“You are! You know, like, everything about music.” 

“I don’t know anything about brass.” 

“Brass,” Mingyu echoed, because he didn’t even know what “brass” entailed, exactly. “Well that’s good, with your whole ‘only have one’ rule, or whatever. Which you are also breaking, by the way.” 

“How, by having zero?”

That had Mingyu fully turning towards him on the piano bench. Though the question had been asked lightly, in the same teasing sort of way that Mingyu was speaking, Jihoon’s expression wasn’t as firmly in joke-land as Mingyu would like. 

“By being,” Mingyu held up his fingers to count on them, “Awesome at all types of music—”

“I already said, brass isn’t—”

“Extremely strong,” Mingyu continued over him, holding up a second finger. “You're very attractive, and caring, and you have great skin, which is a point all on its own because I don’t see any skincare products here—”

“I’m going to hit you with a pillow again if you don’t shut up,” Jihoon threatened, holding up the pillow on the bed next to him as though to prove it. His face was pink, and Mingyu loved it. 

“Oh no, don’t,” Mingyu deadpanned back, and a flurry of giggles left Jihoon’s mouth. He chucked the pillow anyway, Mingyu turning but not dodging, the cushion hitting the side of his head with a soft thwump. Jihoon just laughed some more.

“I’m keeping this,” Mingyu warned, making a big show of situating it in his lap as he turned back to the piano; he didn’t think he was really in the headspace to practice anymore, but he also didn’t think that he could keep looking at Jihoon’s happy pink face without doing something incredibly dumb about it. He tried yet again to tap out the first couple of bars of the song, but the lingering distraction had his fingers clumsy. 

“This really is crazy,” Jihoon said after a moment. Mingyu, unable to help it, turned to him again.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he complained. 

“I’m not!” Jihoon insisted, in a voice that seemed earnest enough. “I’m not. I just… I have a supermodel in my bedroom, playing piano really, really badly. It’s surreal.” 

“I’m not a supermodel,” Mingyu insisted. All Jihoon did was hum. 

“You look like one,” he said. He looked so sweet, his expression having calmed from the open laugh from before to a small smile as he said the compliment, his eyes on Mingyu’s own. He looked so comfortable, his body relaxed, already in slightly rumpled sleep clothes and all laid back in bed. The urge to do something dumb was growing again, something like get up and climb on the mattress, to bracket Jihoon’s body under his and kiss his pretty, pretty mouth. Mingyu decided to take that as a sign that he should probably go. 

“You seem like you’re going to sleep,” he said quickly, getting to his feet. He was still holding the pillow. “I’ll let you—the couch—”

“The heating works,” Jihoon cut him off. His voice was just as abrupt. “Now that power’s back. We don’t need to keep the fire on all night anymore.”

“Okay,” Mingyu said dumbly. 

"So, um. So nobody needs to sleep on the couch."

"Oh." Mingyu’s tongue felt too big for his mouth. This almost sounded like stay, but he didn’t trust the interpretations that his wishful thinking could be giving him. 

“This is the warmest room in the house,” Jihoon finally said. Then he moved over across the sheets just a bit, just enough for Mingyu to take the offer if he wanted it, but also just ignore it, if he didn’t. That was more clear, Mingyu trying very hard not to trip over his own feet as he made his way to the mattress. Once he was properly in bed, lying under the covers, Jihoon reached up and clicked off the lamp, bathing the room in darkness.

Jihoon was very quiet. He was also very still, and Mingyu quickly discovered that this wasn't going to be the soft and snuggly—and, if he was being honest, possibly sexy—cohibernation that he'd been hoping for. It was pretty ergonomic, with how Jihoon radiated heat, but also slept completely flat on his back. Unwilling to do anything to make Jihoon uncomfortable, Mingyu kept his limbs to himself the best that he could and closed his eyes, Jihoon’s breathing lulling him to sleep. 

Despite being the one that offered, Jihoon was hilariously awkward the next morning. They were both woken by Gamja, who snuffled curiously at Mingyu’s face before rounding the bed and nudging at one of Jihoon’s arms. Jihoon grumbled himself into a sitting position, one of his feet touching Mingyu’s leg as he did, and seemed all at once to remember that Mingyu was there, jolting up while Marshmallow trotted in. Mingyu had barely reached out towards her for a good morning pet before Jihoon was coaxing both dogs towards the door.

By the time Mingyu had managed to make it out of the bedroom Jihoon was finished feeding the puppies breakfast, rushing away again with an insistence that he needed to take a shower. Mingyu made breakfast in the meantime, planning to trap him with food. Mingyu of a few days ago would likely have been hurt by the clear avoidance, but knowing it didn't come from a place of dislike had Mingyu just finding it funny instead, unable to help a smile when freshly-showered Jihoon entered the living room, clearly hungry, and skidded to a stop when he saw Mingyu in the kitchen, squirreling himself down next to the fireplace. 

He was fussing unnecessarily with some kindling when Mingyu walked up, sitting beside Jihoon before he could move. Jihoon still tried, beginning to get to his feet, Mingyu reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hyung.” Mingyu let Jihoon see the amusement on his face. “Good morning.” 

Jihoon looked back at him for a few quiet beats before letting out a huge exhale, glancing away. 

"Morning," he finally said. Then, "sorry." 

"Sorry?" Mingyu echoed. "What for?"

"I…" Jihoon trailed off, either too embarrassed or at too much of a loss. He was blushing all the way up his ears and Mingyu couldn’t help himself, nudging Jihoon’s shoulder with his own. 

“Come on, hyung.” He nudged Jihoon again. “What, have you never shared a bed with another man before?” 

That had Jihoon’s head turning towards him. He looked over Mingyu’s face for one long moment before raising an eyebrow.  

“You really want to know?” he asked back. 

It was Mingyu’s turn to go red, saved before he could do any awkward stammering by his cell phone beginning to ring. The device was still in the bedroom and the sound was Jeonghan's customized ringtone, an excellent excuse for Mingyu to run off before it became too obvious that he had completely lost his tongue. 

"Breakfast is on the stove!" he managed out, then dashed away. There had been no further embarrassment from Jihoon at the implication of him sharing a bed with another man. No shock or disgust at all; just a simple question about Mingyu’s curiosity on the subject, which… Okay. Sure. Yeah. Awesome. What?

He found his cell phone on the floor next to the bed— his side of the bed, a distinction that had his brain feeling a little fuzzy— You really want to know?— staying crouched down as he answered it.

"Hello?"

"Ralph Lauren said yes," Jeonghan said, in lieu of any kind of greeting. "They've finally realized that rumors are stupid, and are going to use you for the campaign. The ads are going to run from the end of January to mid April."

Mingyu wavered slightly on the balls of his feet, then sat back on his butt. 

"Oh," he managed out. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Jeonghan sounded incredibly enthused, which was rare when they were talking about work. "Geez Ggyu-yah, be a little less excited, would you?"

"I—no, just…" Mingyu was excited. Of course he was; he liked Ralph Lauren a lot, and the opportunities that would doubtlessly be opened up by the campaign meant good things for his career. But the thought of work just reminded him that he would have to go back to work, likely very soon, where he would likely be extremely busy. That was a thought that he didn't like, and he wasn't sure how to stomach it, because he'd always loved his work; he was someone who was interested in fashion and preened under attention. But… he didn't want to leave. He hadn’t finished learning River Flows In You yet.

"I'm just really relieved, I think."

"Ah, yes. There are probably going to be jokes about it forever though, so just be ready for that. Social media drama runs the world, unfortunately." Jeonghan had a false sageness to his tone, as though reciting some ancient proverb. "Speaking of which, your social media is looking really bare. Like, really, really bare. How's service been? More reliable?" 

"Yes," Mingyu said, unable to keep a sigh from his voice; somehow, there was something endearing about Jeonghan’s wheedling, nasally tone. "I'll post more, hyung."

"I'm just saying!" Jeonghan hadn't directly said anything at all, but Mingyu could read between the lines. "You're in a pretty place with pretty weather, and you're pretty too. No sense in wasting an opportunity like this. Film some stuff! It'll be cute, I'm sure." 

"I will!" Mingyu didn't need convincing. Jeonghan was right, and now that he'd mentioned it, it would be nice to film some stuff here. To document his time. He might even try to get Jihoon on camera; just a little something to remember it all by, because he had no idea what their relationship would look like once the avalanche was cleared away. This wouldn't last forever, and Mingyu was already on day eight of his stay. "Do you want me to send things to you before I post them?" 

Jeonghan made an extended "thinking" noise into the receiver, a high hum. 

"Use your judgment," he finally allowed. "I trust you. But I'd rather you not post anything identifying about the ranger you're with until I can run some intel on him, just in case."

"He's nice!" Mingyu insisted, feeling defensive on Jihoon’s behalf.

"Sweetheart, you think everyone is nice," Jeonghan said, not unkindly. "And just because he's kind to you doesn't mean he hasn't gone on some public hate campaign against Calvin Klein on Twitter, or something. That would make your last branded post look pretty stupid." 

Mingyu still didn't think Jihoon would do something like that, but he decided not to argue; he wasn't planning on posting anything identifying about Jihoon anyway. 

"Okay. Thanks for the call, hyung." 

"Stay safe, Mingyu-yah." The cuteness in Jeonghan's tone did nothing to cheapen the words, Mingyu feeling himself smile instead. "See you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bye." 

The call disconnected, Mingyu leaning back against the wall. Things were going to be fine. An anxious sort of thrum, something that had been so constant in the back of Mingyu’s mind that it had settled in as almost normal and expected, disappeared. It all felt stupid now, somehow. Career damaging, sure. Embarrassing? Definitely. But also just… kind of dumb. This whole dating scandal thing had seemed so, so important before, and of course he was glad that it was over now—as “over” as it was going to be without the further passage of time—but the fact that people had worked themselves up into that much of a frenzy over gossip online was a bit unbelievable, now that he'd spent time so far removed from it. Maybe there was something to going out and “touching grass”, as the kids liked to say. 

He didn't think he'd want to unplug this completely, or for so many months at a time, but he thought he understood, just a bit, why Jihoon would volunteer to come out here like this. Mingyu knew that he definitely wouldn't be able to be here alone, the way Jihoon so often was, but… something like this could be nice. A couple of weeks, spent with an equally unplugged person. And Jihoon no longer seemed to mind having him here.

Mingyu returned to the living room, treated to the sight of Jihoon sitting on the floor, an empty bowl in his lap, Marshmallow standing by his side and licking at the spoon he was holding up for her with such single-minded focus that her body seemed to quiver. He was smiling as he watched her, cooing gently, and Mingyu felt something in his heart squeeze, holding up his phone and immediately deciding to switch tracks. He wanted to film and photograph for himself, not for work. He wanted pictures of Jihoon, of the cabin, of Gamja and Marshmallow; anything he was able to put on Instagram would just be a secondary bonus. 

“Bad behavior,” he chastised, and at the sound of his voice, both Jihoon and Marshmallow looked his way. Hilariously, they also both looked chastised; Marshmallow side-eyed him, licking her jowls and avoiding his gaze while Jihoon gave an embarrassed little smile, then noticed Mingyu’s phone and fully ducked his head, hiding his face behind his hand.

“Aish, don't film me,” he protested.

“What if I want to?” Mingyu asked, but he ended the recording and lowered the device, tossing it onto the couch. 

“Don't post me on the internet. You have too many followers.”

That had Mingyu blinking, aborting his trip into the kitchen and turning on his heel to look at Jihoon.

“How do you know about my followers?” he asked. Jihoon immediately averted his eyes again.

“You're the one that told me to follow you on Instagram,” he responded defensively. 

“Did you?” Mingyu asked back, grabbing for his phone, ready to search through all the people on his follower list for the chance of finding Jihoon’s account.

“No.” The answer was short. Then, “Fashion isn't really my thing.” 

Mingyu pouted so hard that his chin cramped up and he had to rub at it, causing Jihoon to giggle at him. 

“I do have to post some things today,” Mingyu told him, getting his own food and sitting on the couch. Marshmallow immediately walked up to him and began staring with big brown puppy eyes. “That phone call was my manager, actually. And like, I do want to film some stuff, or take some pictures, but I promise I won't post anything you end up in. Is that okay?”  

After a hesitant moment, Jihoon agreed. He was still incredibly squirrely though, almost as though he didn't trust Mingyu—or, at the very least, didn't want to chance it—and it took nearly an hour to get him in a photograph, sending it to Jeonghan. 

Here! Lee Jihoon 

It took ages to send but the response was quick, and Mingyu didn't like it. 

Oh!
…he's cute, Mingyu-yah.

Mingyu tried to tell himself not to respond, that Jeonghan was just joking, that it didn't mean anything, but only really managed to hold strong for about fifteen minutes.

Back off.

Jeonghan sent an extremely long string of laughter back, bookended by angel emojis. His next message came in a concerningly short amount of time, essentially telling Mingyu that Jihoon’s minimal social media presence, the outward attitudes of Jihoon’s place of employment, and the social medias of the people that Jihoon publicly associated with were all free of any controversy, so therefore, on the business end, Mingyu was cleared to publicly connect himself with Jihoon, if he wanted.

Mingyu decided to refrain the best he could anyway. He did the easy stuff first, taking pictures and videos of Marshmallow; she was well-behaved in front of the camera and even better at posing than he was, going outside to film her loping around in the snow and trying to catch snowballs in her mouth. He had the goal to make two actually nice, official Instagram posts and toss the shorter, funnier stuff onto his Instagram story. But mostly he just filmed indiscriminately, deciding he would edit it later, posting the safe stuff if he was allowed to and making a cute video for himself out of the rest of the footage. 

He might need help, he realized with some despondence. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d opened the video editing software on his laptop; in truth, he couldn’t even properly remember the last time he’d used his laptop or tablet for anything that wasn’t streaming some show to zone out to when he got home from work, or putting on a YouTube video for background noise. He’d bragged to Jihoon about his plethora of skills, but he knew that due to neglect, he had to be embarrassingly rusty at most of them. Aside from cooking and maybe photography, piano was the hobby that he had the most confidence in, and he’d started that less than a week ago. That was something he wanted to fix. 

He did eventually make his way to the piano, setting up his phone and deciding to show off the first few lines of River Flows In You. He explained that he was learning, and that the ranger that had rescued him was teaching him, but he felt strangely nervous and as a result, his first attempt was completely disastrous. Mingyu quickly deleted the video from his camera roll, trying it all again. The second try went much better, getting almost all the way through it before playing G instead of G sharp, jumping and turning when he heard Jihoon’s voice.

“That note should be sharp,” he corrected. He was holding a pillow to his chest, one of the small ones from the couch. “At least you sound better than yesterday.” 

“Shut up, hyung!” Mingyu protested at him, Jihoon bursting into giggles and tossing the pillow at him. Mingyu let it hit him as always, a soft thwump against his forehead, feeling the cushion mess up his bangs and beginning to giggle too.

After some consideration, Mingyu decided to post the video to his Instagram story. Jihoon was completely out of frame, but had known he was filming, and had decided to speak anyway. Plus… it was cute. Jihoon had giggled. 

Jihoon got more and more comfortable with Mingyu’s phone camera as the day wore on. It started with simply staying in the room when Mingyu had his phone held up, going eventually from posing when asked to actively ruining shots Mingyu was trying to post, jumping to make it into frame. It was impossible to be any kind of annoyed, because Jihoon seemed to think it was the funniest thing in the world, a mischievous little smile on his face that just made Mingyu laugh too. He actually got some of it in a video that was safe to post: Jihoon stuck his arm into frame, wriggling his fingers around.

“Hyung, I am filming,” Mingyu informed him. Jihoon just laughed again, making a peace sign. Mingyu posted the video. Jeonghan sent him a text.

You just barely escaped one dating rumor. Please don’t start another one. 

Mingyu declared himself finished once the sun had set, the two of them eating dinner and getting ready for bed. Jihoon seemed more comfortable sliding under the covers with him than he had the day previously, relaxing against the pillows without comment. 

“Today was fun!” Mingyu said, reaching over to poke Jihoon when he didn’t agree. “I know you had fun, hyung. I have a ton of embarrassing pictures of you, I bet.”

“No you don’t.” 

“I do!” Mingyu poked him again. “And I’m going to use them for evil.” 

Jihoon poked him back, presumably in protest for whatever this unspecified “evil” was. It felt incredibly juvenile, so unexpected that Mingyu let out a little yelp. That just led to Jihoon doing it again, Mingyu reaching out to snag his wrist. So Jihoon poked him with his other hand. 

It escalated to full-on grappling so quickly that Mingyu didn’t really realize what was happening until he had an arm thrown across Jihoon’s chest in a desperate attempt to keep hold of one of his wrists, Jihoon’s hand gripping his other forearm, the blankets a mess with how Mingyu had a leg thrown over both of Jihoon’s to keep him from kicking. He hadn't actually wrestled with someone like this in so long, but there was something incredibly fun about it, about the physical push and pull.

However, he didn’t notice just how much he was literally on top of Jihoon until Jihoon’s own body went lax, turning his head and exhaling a laugh against the skin of Mingyu’s neck. Mingyu froze, unsure if it would be stranger to stay or to pull away, his heart stuttering for just a moment before beating double-time. 

“It was fun,” Jihoon admitted. The breathiness in his voice made Mingyu’s head spin, loosening his hold on Mingyu’s forearm and letting his fingers slide down to Mingyu’s wrist. His thumb rested against the pulse point there, and Mingyu knew he had to feel the way it was pounding. Despite the obvious power and strength Jihoon had, his touch was gentle. Delicate in a way Mingyu always tried to be, and often missed due to clumsiness. The thought of that touch trailing anywhere else on his body had Mingyu heating up, so distracted that he nearly missed Jihoon’s next words. “I usually really hate it, being in front of a camera, but it was fun today.”

“Really?” Mingyu asked, simply because if he didn’t say something, he was liable to choke on his own tongue. Jihoon’s legs shifted, but not nearly enough to dislodge Mingyu; he was settling, getting comfortable.

“I don’t know.” Jihoon’s voice was soft. “Maybe it’s just being here. Things always feel a little different when I’m here.” A pause. “Maybe it’s you.” 

“Oh,” Mingyu responded dumbly. Then the words truly sank in. “That’s really sweet, hyung.” 

“Is not.” That was a gruff grumble, Jihoon turning completely away. Mingyu was quick to let him go but Jihoon didn’t do the same, keeping Mingyu’s wrist in his hand as he turned; when he’d settled again, Mingyu’s arm was still wrapped over him. This position was unexpectedly close—not actual spooning, with Jihoon a little too far away to be properly pressed against his chest, but definitely more than nothing, and— “You really want to know?” —definitely intentional. “Goodnight, Minggu.”

“Night,” Mingyu managed back, not realizing until his heartbeat finally slowed, Jihoon’s breathing evening out next to him, that he seemed to have been given a bit of a nickname.

When Mingyu woke up the next morning, the bed was empty. Jihoon was speaking, his voice slightly hushed but his tone lilted in that way it could get when he talked to the dogs, and it was sweet to listen to, Mingyu finding himself smiling at the thought. Actually paying attention to the words made him sit up, though. 

“Sorry Marshmallow, but you really can't come with us.”

Can't come? Can't come meant that Jihoon—and Gamja—were going somewhere, Mingyu getting to his feet and heading to the living room.  

Sure enough, Jihoon was bundled up from head to toe, standing by the door. He was shrugging his ranger jacket up onto his shoulders, Gamja standing to the side, wearing his working vest and looking at him for instruction, his fluffy tail swishing leisurely. Jihoon looked up, and as soon as their eyes met his mouth pursed into a unsuccessfully suppressed smile that made the dimples by the corners of his mouth pop.

“Good morning,” he told Mingyu. Mingyu was left floundering for a moment, knocked off-kilter by the unexpected sweetness so early in the morning.

“Where are you going?” he asked. 

“The weather is warm enough that we can finally make some headway in clearing out the avalanche,” Jihoon explained. “I'm going to go help out, and see if I can get an estimate on how long it'll take.”

“Oh.” Mingyu tried not to look too put out, thinking he was probably unsuccessful by the way Jihoon’s smile grew into something that was a little sympathetic. 

“I won't be gone too long,” he assured Mingyu, his eyes flicking to Mingyu’s forehead a couple of times as he spoke. Every time they did, the smile seemed to get just a fraction wider. “Everyone's safe and there's no immediate urgency, so we're not going to try and clear it all at once.”

Mingyu nodded again. Realistically, he knew that returning to the real world was imminent, but he hadn’t been prepared for it to be quite this soon. Jihoon’s expression went serious.

“Try not to die while I'm gone,” he said. “Don't give yourself frostbite. It might be good for you to just not go outside at all.”

Mingyu nearly protested at Jihoon's lack of faith in him, but then realized that with his track record, the concern was probably justified. He gave Jihoon a mock salute instead. 

“I'll stay safe,” he promised. Jihoon’s smile grew again, finally full. 

“Good,” he said. Then he and Gamja were out the door. 

Giving his head a small shake, Mingyu went to the bathroom. He needed to wash up and brush his teeth, and the way Jihoon had been looking at him made him feel the need to look in the mirror. Sure enough, the explanation was immediately obvious.

To his despair, Mingyu looked ridiculous. 

The grogginess in his expression wasn't unexpected, but along with that, he had red sleep lines criss-crossing all along his cheeks and forehead. A forehead that was extremely exposed, thanks to how his bangs were sticking straight into the air. He gave an experimental bounce on the balls of his feet. The hair wobbled.

Mingyu thought back to the purse-lipped smile Jihoon had given him the second he'd walked into the kitchen, then buried his face in his hands with a groan.

 Time without Jihoon seemed to pass very slowly. Mingyu ate breakfast and played with Marshmallow a bit, posting a few photos of her on his Instagram story before deciding to practice piano again. Unfortunately, it was terribly boring to do all alone and before too long he was simply languishing on the piano bench, wishing he were doing something else. It took Marshmallow coming and resting her head in his lap to make him realize he could very easily be doing something else, getting up. 

In truth, he wanted to go outside. It looked nice out, the sky blue and so sunny that it almost seemed warm, despite the thick snow covering the ground and coating the trees. Marshmallow was nothing but encouraging, nudging at him and running to the door.

Jihoon didn't want him to go out, but… Mingyu could do it, right? He would bundle up. He would only stay in the front yard! The sky was clear; he wouldn't get snowed on and soaked through, and knew well enough to go back inside if any of his extremities went numb. It would be fine.

He planned on getting some air and going back in before Jihoon returned so he would be none the wiser, but timing was not on his side; he’d been out for maybe ten minutes when a yell rent the air.

“KIM MINGYU!” 

Well. That was familiar. 

Due to the lack of wind, the shout was pretty loud, Mingyu turning towards the noise. There was Jihoon, bundled up, Gamja at his side. The huge fluffy dog was calm until Jihoon reached down and unclipped his working vest; as soon as he was free he began bounding towards the both of them, snow flying, fur wild. Mingyu knelt to receive him and Gamja absolutely bowled him over, Jihoon’s laugh ringing through the trees as Mingyu was knocked fully onto his back. 

Thankfully, Gamja only gave him a few licks before Marshmallow stole his attention, and Mingyu was allowed to sit up. Jihoon reached him by the time he was upright, extending a hand down towards him.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” Mingyu confessed. He took Jihoon’s hand, letting himself hold it for a moment.

“I told everyone about you, and they said I should get back,” Jihoon answered. That seemed true, and Mingyu wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. “Seems like they were right; I directly told you not to come out here.”

“Hey!” Mingyu used his grip on Jihoon to pull himself to his feet. Jihoon didn’t budge a single centimeter at the extra weight. “All I promised was that I would stay safe. And look!” 

He took a step back, extending his arms. Jihoon gave him a discerning up-and-down, and Mingyu hoped that he could blame his pink cheeks on the cold. Finally, he nodded.

“You’re not all wet and pathetic,” he said, Mingyu so surprised that a laugh burst from his mouth. Then he frowned, the expression pouty. “I don’t like it.”

“What’re you going to do about it?” Mingyu asked him. All that got was a shrewd eyebrow raise, Mingyu laughing again. He turned, having only taken two steps towards the dogs when a snowball hit him squarely in the back of the head. 

The hit nearly had him losing his balance, more from surprise than anything else, making an incredibly ineloquent noise that made Jihoon laugh again. The snowball had been packed expertly, bursting on impact, and the sheer amount of snow that got down into the collar of Mingyu’s coat was almost unbelievable. It was cold, sending a chill into Mingyu’s bones as it melted against his skin.

“You—!” Mingyu knelt, trying to pack a snowball to get back at Jihoon with. Jihoon, as expected, was faster; by the time Mingyu had gathered a sizeable clump of snow in his hands, another snowball hit him. It flew past his face, catching some of his hair in its wake before exploding against his shoulder. Mingyu straightened, packed his own snow with a couple of satisfying crunch es, and threw it.

He managed to hit Jihoon square in the chest. Jihoon’s jacket did well enough to protect him, but that didn’t stop it from being satisfying to watch, and Jihoon seemed surprised that he’d been hit. 

With good reason, it turned out, because that was the only throw that Mingyu managed to get in for the rest of the snowball fight. 

Jihoon obviously had more experience in the snow than him, but it seemed like more than that. Mingyu suspected a background in baseball, with how fast and accurate his throws were; his aim was impeccable, somehow always able to not only hit Mingyu, but to angle the snowballs to get the maximum amount of wet ice in his clothes and his hair. It was fun, but before too long Mingyu was very wet with snow and, likely, looking a little pathetic. So he gave up on trying to fight fair and simply ran at Jihoon.

Jihoon was too surprised by the new tactic to get any sort of head start, and between the hindrance of ankle-deep snow and the difference in leg length, Mingyu was able to catch up rather easily, wrapping his arms around Jihoon’s waist and throwing all of his weight into knocking him down. The impact had the air “oof”-ing out of Jihoon, Mingyu toppling over too, the two of them crashing headlong into the snow.

“Not—fair!” Jihoon gasped out. He was laughing, all of their limbs flailing, snow flying everywhere. He was trying to get himself out from under Mingyu’s body, Mingyu hooking a leg around Jihoon’s hip in an attempt to hold onto him.

It didn’t work; there was a grunt, then Jihoon fully rolled the both of them over, gripping Mingyu’s wrists to hold them over his head, and all of Mingyu’s limbs turned to jelly. Jihoon might have won, but with Jihoon sitting on him, pinning him to the ground with his body weight, his labored exhales hot against Mingyu’s mouth, Mingyu didn’t really feel like he was the loser here.

“You cheated,” Jihoon panted out. He was so close, his cheeks pink with cold, his eyes on Mingyu’s own.

“What're you going to do about it?” Mingyu asked again, though much of the bravado from the first time was gone. It came out breathy and weak instead, and Jihoon’s fingers tightened around Mingyu’s wrists.

Then Mingyu’s vision went white as a lump of snow came hurtling at them, smacking into their bodies like a wave. Mingyu yelped in shock, unable to help it, Jihoon releasing him and reeling back. Gamja seemed to have decided to teach Marshmallow how to dig the rescue dog way, the kicked up snow angled directly at them, Marshmallow flinging it up fast in her enthusiasm. Jihoon quickly got up and out of the line of fire but Mingyu just curled in, letting the snow cover him, needing something to cool his burning body down.

The next day was Mingyu’s tenth day at the cabin. He woke up first, letting the dogs out before they disturbed Jihoon and starting on breakfast. He was still at the stove when Jihoon waddled in, eyes drowsy, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Mingyu couldn’t help it, smiling when he saw him. 

“Happy anniversary,” he said. Jihoon blinked. Blinked again. Glanced around, taking in the active kitchen, the fire in the fireplace, and the two dogs cuddled up together on the rug. 

“Am I still dreaming?” he asked. 

“It’s our ten day anniversary!” Mingyu explained. Sure, it was stupid and a bit nonsensical, but an excuse to spoil Jihoon sounded fun. Especially if he kept blinking up at Mingyu like he was doing now. “Ten days since you saved my life. I want to thank you.” 

“You seriously don’t have to keep doing that,” Jihoon told him, going over to the table. Mingyu rushed over before he made it there, pulling out his chair for him. Jihoon looked down at the chair, then up at Mingyu again. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes, I am.” 

Laughing, Jihoon acquiesced, shaking his head a little as he sat down. They ate together, but Jihoon didn’t stay, going out again to help with avalanche clearance. Mingyu moaned and complained about being abandoned on such a special day, but once Jihoon was gone he truly got to work, scavenging pine branches to use for a table arrangement, pulling out the emergency candles to place them on the table, and cooking the most fanciful dinner he could with the available ingredients. He stepped back when he was finished, hands on his hips to survey his handiwork before nodding to himself in satisfaction. 

Jihoon was out much longer than he had been the day before, not returning until the sun was starting to set. Mingyu was all ready and felt giddy about it, hurrying up to meet Jihoon at the door to take his coat from him and hang it up. 

“You’re just in time for dinner!” he exclaimed, gesturing. Jihoon stood there, staring at the table while Gamja entered the kitchen, sniffing at the air.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jihoon said again. Mingyu beamed.

“Yep!” 

Jihoon disappeared to get redressed in clean clothes, Mingyu taking that time to feed the dogs, dish up the food, and light the candles. The candles were all the room was lit by when Jihoon returned, and the shadows they cast made his dimples more pronounced as he smiled at Mingyu, shaking his head. 

“Happy anniversary,” Mingyu insisted, raising his glass for a toast. Jihoon fully began laughing then, but he raised his cup in response, the drinks meeting with a quiet clink. They talked as they ate, Jihoon telling Mingyu about the progress on the avalanche clearance, about how safe passage was only a day or two away. That led to Mingyu telling Jihoon about his work, explaining what was awaiting him when he got back. He tried to dance around the dating scandal but didn’t do it very well, always unprepared for it, the subject constantly tripping up his tongue.

“I… sorry,” he finally said. Jihoon was looking at him in concern. Thankfully, the meal was over now, so Mingyu gave himself a few moments by clearing the table and washing their dishes. He’d wanted to use today to make Jihoon smile as much as possible, and so far, it had been working. Before he could think of a good way to move past it, there was a tap on his shoulder.

He turned. Jihoon had stoked the living room fire and spread a blanket down in front of it, holding a bottle of soju in one hand and two shot glasses in the other. He lifted the drink up in offering.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked. The drink was peach flavored. Mingyu took it.

“Sure.” 

Adorably, it only took one shot for a pink flush to start across Jihoon’s face. 

“I don’t drink much,” he explained, seeming embarrassed, rolling the bottom edge of his shot glass in a circle against the blanket. Mingyu took it, filling it back up for him.

“I can’t believe you hid this from me!” he said. Apparently, it had been in the back of some drawer in the fridge, brought along at the insistence of one of Jihoon’s friends and completely untouched. Mingyu didn’t usually go for flavored soju, but with no beer or any other mixers, he didn’t mind it. “This trip might be the longest I’ve gone without drinking. Which…” He handed the shot glass back. “Which doesn’t sound great when I say it out loud.” 

Jihoon let out an amused exhale from his nose. He waited for Mingyu to refill his own glass, the two of them drinking at the same time, Mingyu turning back towards him just in time to see Jihoon pulling a face.

“You don’t like drinking,” he guessed. Jihoon frowned, seeming to debate internally about whether or not to deny it before sighing.

“Coke just tastes so much better,” he said, and that really made Mingyu laugh. 

“That’s probably for the best,” he said, putting the soju bottle down. “I mean, drinking is kind of what got me into this mess in the first place.”

“Yeah?” Jihoon looked over him. “Did you do something embarrassing in a public place?” 

“How did you know?” Mingyu asked back, keeping his tone mild, refilling Jihoon’s glass again. “I mean, all I was doing was crying. The internet decided on the rest.” 

“Were you actually crying about a breakup?” Jihoon asked him. Mingyu was completely unable to keep the surprise from his face.

“Did you—how did you know that?” 

“You keep forgetting that you told me to follow you on Instagram,” Jihoon said. “Your account wasn’t the only thing that came up when I went to look for it. I didn’t read any of the articles because it's always bullshit, but I saw the headlines.” 

Mingyu nodded, taking another drink. While he was grateful that Jihoon hadn’t actually looked at any of the pieces on the clickbait gossip sites, he wasn’t sure if Jihoon already knowing about it made things better or worse. It definitely didn’t give him the privilege of deciding where to start.

“Kind of,” he decided on, which really wasn’t much of an answer at all. “Just…” He took in a deep breath, then let it back out. “Do you know who Song Kang is?” 

Jihoon's blank expression was enough of an answer, so Mingyu tried elaborating. 

“He's… He's an actor? Or… Did you watch much Inkigayo back in 2018?”

“I don't understand,” Jihoon said, and this time, Mingyu let his cheeks puff up as he exhaled. 

“Okay. Well, um. Uh. He's… he's my ex.” 

“...ex?”

“Like, boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” 

Jihoon was quiet for a moment. “Oh,” he finally said. Mingyu, now much more nervous, tried to resist the urge to take another shot, nodding instead. “So… you did have a breakup?”

“No!” Mingyu said quickly. “Or, I mean, yeah, I guess. Kind of.” 

Jihoon was back to staring at him. “I'm confused again,” he told Mingyu. Mingyu, now on his third deep breath of the conversation, tried to think of the best way to lay everything out.

“It was months ago,” he began. “The breakup, I mean. He was too busy for me. And… He was working, and I—I understand how important networking is, I really do, but after a month of plans falling through or not responding to me, I really started to wonder if the cast parties really had to run so late, or why he couldn’t just decline when he already had plans scheduled. No matter how accommodating I was or how far in advance I tried to make the reservations, something always came up.”

It had been exhausting, but Mingyu had known that the alternative—giving up, ghosting Song Kang in return, trying to make him schedule a date for once—would have just highlighted how much the other man didn’t care, a feeling that Mingyu hadn’t been able to bear.

“Was he cheating on you?” Jihoon asked softly. Mingyu shook his head.

“I don’t think so.” And he didn't. Song Kang always kept him updated on where he was and what he was doing, Mingyu always able to cross-reference that with the pictures and videos posted on the public and private accounts of people at the same events. He never snuck away, or was unaccounted for, and hadn’t been seen with anyone since they’d split. “He was just always working. It’s been paying off, and I am happy for him, but…” Mingyu laughed, short, unable to help it. “I’d never felt so lonely in my entire life.”

The only sound was the crackle of the fire in front of them. Mingyu could feel Jihoon look at him, not wanting to look back, not wanting to see the pity that was bound to be there. Jihoon picked up the soju bottle, now over half gone, and poured the both of them another shot. 

“He even broke up with me over text, like an asshole,” Mingyu continued. “And it felt… It was so weird, because it had been so many weeks since I’d seen him in person that things didn’t feel that different. I didn’t see him again until… Wow, has it been a month now? We were at the same fashion event. I didn’t know he was going to be there.”

Jihoon made an abrupt noise of surprise.

“I would have fucking left,” he said, the rude word bringing a smile to Mingyu’s face despite himself. 

Nobody on Mingyu’s team had known Song Kang was going to be in attendance, because he knew that as much as Jeonghan liked to tease, he wouldn’t have sprung that kind of surprise on him. He might have even told Mingyu not to go. Instead, Mingyu had met eyes with his ex-boyfriend from across the room, nearly tripping over poor Park Bo Young in shock.

The benefit of dating as a closeted public figure meant that none of Mingyu’s past relationships had been called anything more than a “friendship” by the media. However, that meant that the media had seen he and Song Kang as friends, so they'd had to act friendly at the event, and Song Kang had just seemed so… normal. He’d been composed. He’d been kind. Mingyu would have liked it better if he were apologetic, or even just awkward—anything to show that he was affected, because instead, it caused Mingyu to wonder.

“And I think that maybe… Maybe it was a lot of convenient excuses. Maybe he’d been trying to let me down easy for what, six weeks? And I was just too dumb to notice.” 

Silence fell again, Mingyu able to hear a light, wheezy snore from the bedroom, knowing Gamja was splayed out on the rug and very likely drooling. 

“If that’s true, then he’s a coward and you’re too good for him,” Jihoon said. Despite it being clear that the alcohol was affecting him, Jihoon’s words were steadfast and his eyes were sharp. 

“Thanks,” Mingyu responded lightly. Anything more sincere than that felt like it might be too much, and he regretted how serious the mood already was. He picked up the soju that time, refilling their shot glasses with the last of the bottle. “I don’t still love him, and I definitely don’t want him back, but finally seeing him in person really just… It hit me all at once, I think. I didn’t want to be alone, so I went out, which was my first mistake. And I wanted to get drunk, which was my second mistake, because then I just got sad.”

“I can't believe people took pictures,” Jihoon said, frowning at him. Mingyu shrugged; there was no changing that now. 

“Have you ever heard the song Lonely by BOL4?” he asked. Jihoon had to think for a moment, then nodded. “They were playing the strangest dance remix of it that I’d ever heard, and that’s what made me cry. Which…” He threw the shot back, setting the glass down outside the blanket, hearing it clink against the wooden floor. “It’s kind of hilarious, if you think about it. Maybe that makes it worth documenting.” 

Jihoon didn’t seem to think it was hilarious. Jihoon was closer than Mingyu remembered him being at the start of the conversation, his eyes on Mingyu’s face. He looked for so long that Mingyu nearly asked him about it, but then he spoke.

“Your ex is stupid,” he declared. The last shot seemed to have done him in; he now sounded as tipsy as he looked, and they'd only gotten through one bottle between the two of them. The lightweightedness of it made Mingyu smile. Jihoon was cute. “Not wanting to spend time with you. That's so stupid.” 

“I mean, you didn’t exactly want to spend time with me either, at first,” Mingyu countered, wanting to tease. Jihoon seemed to miss the humor in his voice, a frown overtaking his expression.

“I never said I’m not stupid too,” he muttered, a bark of surprised laughter leaving Mingyu’s mouth. “I got over that, didn’t I? And now you’re leaving in a few days, and I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.” 

“Hyung, really?” Mingyu cooed, pretty sure the words had only been spoken because of the inebriation and wanting to take full advantage. “You're really going to miss me?”

“Now you're the one being stupid,” Jihoon told him. Then he leaned close, planting one hand on the blanket and using the other to cup Mingyu’s jaw, turning his head and kissing him on the mouth.

Jihoon’s lips were soft. They pressed against Mingyu’s with purpose, the intention clear. Jihoon was kissing him. Jihoon wanted to kiss him. He pulled back, looking at Mingyu. The question in his eyes was an easy one to answer, Mingyu opening his mouth before deciding actions would be faster and more effective than words, leaning in and kissing Jihoon back. 

The response was immediate; a small sound left Jihoon’s throat and his other hand found Mingyu’s waist, moving closer. The slide of his lips was slow and he tasted so sweet, all peach soju and affection, fireside warmth pushing itself through Mingyu’s veins until every point of contact between them felt lit up. Mingyu wanted more of it, and Jihoon was more than willing; all Mingyu had to do was lean back against the couch and then Jihoon was on him, straddling his hips, one hand now planted against his chest, his tongue passing Mingyu’s lips to slip into his mouth. 

Jihoon was so—he was so hot, his body overwarm, his hips doing a smooth small grind down that had Mingyu gasping. He grabbed at Jihoon, letting one palm rest against Jihoon’s thigh, and at the contact a small hitching sound came from Jihoon’s throat, his teeth pressing into Mingyu’s bottom lip, just to release into a low moan when Mingyu squeezed at the muscle. Jihoon's fingers tightened in his hair, and Mingyu felt near-dizzy; he'd never been this turned on just from kissing someone before, had never felt the rush in his blood move this fast, had never wanted so much not to stop. 

The clumsy way Jihoon grabbed at his free hand gave him pause, though. It took two tries before he'd managed to find Mingyu’s wrist, moving Mingyu’s hand to his torso, planting Mingyu’s palm against his side. The guided permission was good, and being wanted felt nice, but Jihoon was drunk. Mingyu broke the kiss, turning his head when Jihoon tried to kiss him again.

“Minggu?” Jihoon asked. Thankfully, he sounded more confused than dejected. “Do you not want…?”

Mingyu managed out a small, shaky laugh.

“Trust me, I want,” he said. He slid his thumb where it rested against Jihoon’s abdomen, the muscle clear and firm under his shirt. “But hyung, you're drunk. We should go to bed.”

Jihoon frowned at him.

“We'll talk in the morning, alright?” Jihoon looked so cute that Mingyu couldn't help it, kissing his forehead. Jihoon stared at him for a moment, then the pink flush on his face went a shade deeper and he pushed his burning face into Mingyu’s neck. 

“Ugh,” he grumbled, Mingyu laughing out loud as he pulled Jihoon properly into his arms, carrying him towards the bedroom. 

They’d fallen asleep curled close, but when Mingyu woke up, he was alone. The bed was empty and he couldn’t hear anything from the living room, a sinking feeling entering his chest. Jihoon must have left. Jihoon must have gone to work. And—and sure, it was his job, he probably had to go, but that didn’t make it feel like less of a desertion. He stared up at the ceiling with a sigh.

He considered just going back to sleep, laying there so long that he started to drowse when Gamja padded into the room. The big dog tried to snuffle at Mingyu’s face, but the shock of seeing him had Mingyu sitting up in bed. 

“You’re here,” he told the dog. He was stared at in response. 

If Gamja was here, the Jihoon must be too. Mingyu got up, entering the living room to see Jihoon curled up on the couch, Jihoon already looking his way.

“You didn’t leave,” Mingyu said. 

“I can if you want me to,” Jihoon responded. There were nerves all over his face, and Mingyu knew it must have been hard for him, sitting here and waiting for Mingyu to wake up, knowing he had an acceptable escape but not taking it. “The others said they could manage without me, and… I thought we should talk.” 

“I…” Mingyu felt bad, now, for assuming the worst of him. “I really appreciate that, hyung. Thank you.” 

Jihoon’s face scrunched up in the resulting silence. “Um.” He started getting up, moving towards the kitchen. “I, uh, I can make some food. I was going to make breakfast for you but then you slept for a long time and I didn’t want the noodles to stretch so I just was going to wait, but I can—” 

“Can we talk first?” Mingyu interrupted, after deciding against seeing how long Jihoon would ramble for. “Let me… Let me get presentable, and then we can talk.” 

He didn’t want to try having a serious chat if the hilarious bed head from before was making a second appearance but thankfully, all he saw when he looked in the bathroom mirror was some puffiness. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, only having taken a few steps into the kitchen when Jihoon spoke again.

“I’m sorry.” 

Mingyu didn’t… Well, he didn’t love that.

“Sorry?” he echoed, concerned. 

“For what I did last night,” Jihoon clarified. Mingyu’s expression must not have been a great one, because he continued quickly. “I don’t regret kissing you. I’m sorry about how I did it. It’s embarrassing, how sloppy I must have seemed, and you’d just told me about another man that treated you poorly. Reacting like that was unfair to you. So… I'm sorry.”

There were a few words that came to mind to describe the way Jihoon had kissed him last night. “Unfair” was not on that list. 

“Sorry?” Mingyu walked a little further into the kitchen. “Hyung, I kissed you back, remember?”

“I’ve seen pictures of the people you normally hang out with,” Jihoon said. 

“What?” The direction the implication was headed had Mingyu flabbergasted, staring at Jihoon. “Hyung, you're not serious.” 

Jihoon didn't respond, but his expression betrayed an insecurity that was serious. After a moment he shrugged, and Mingyu couldn't let that stand.

“Hyung, I've wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you,” he said. “Haven't I told you that you're handsome? You don't believe me?” 

Jihoon seemed to flounder a bit at Mingyu’s silence, when he realized that the question wasn't fully rhetorical. Mingyu didn't try to force him to answer though, letting himself step into Jihoon’s space, wanting Jihoon to believe him. 

“I'm glad that you kissed me. I wanted you to kiss me. So please don't apologize for one of the best kisses I've ever had.”

Jihoon blinked. Blinked again. Then he looked away, a small, amused exhale leaving his nose. 

“What?” Mingyu asked.

“Just—you have to be joking,” Jihoon said. “You’re kind, so you’re exaggerating. Best? There’s no way.”

Mingyu placed his hands on the kitchen counter, on either side of Jihoon’s hips. “You’ve really got to start taking me seriously, hyung.” 

“It was sloppy,” Jihoon countered. 

“It was good!”

“But best?” Jihoon shook his head. “I know it wasn’t the best I could do.”

“Oh?” Mingyu raised an eyebrow at him. “D’you want to prove that, hyung?”

Maybe he sounded too sincere—he had meant it seriously, but maybe it was too abrupt of a shift, because Jihoon went still, his eyes on Mingyu’s face, the tips of his ears flushing pink.

“I…”

“I mean—” Mingyu felt himself fluster up too. “I didn’t—if… Do you want to kiss me again?” 

Jihoon was searching his face. 

“Do you want me to kiss you again?” he finally asked, his voice quiet, and Mingyu felt his knees go weak.

“Yes.” If the answer was too immediate, too wanting, too desperate, Mingyu didn’t care. “Yes, please, yes, I—” 

He didn’t have time to finish the less-than-coherent thought, Jihoon reaching up towards him. His hand cupping the nape of Mingyu’s neck did more than enough to shut Mingyu up, pulling him down, and then Jihoon was kissing him. The kiss was deliciously slow, gentle, Jihoon coaxing Mingyu’s lips apart as his other hand slid over Mingyu’s shirt, up his chest, his nimble fingers brushing every dip and swell on their way. That hand cupped his cheek, his fingertips pressing in just enough to feel as Mingyu opened his jaw just a bit further to kiss Jihoon back, a small hum of satisfaction leaving Jihoon’s mouth that made Mingyu’s head spin. Then he pulled away.

“There,” he said. He let Mingyu go, rocking back onto his heels; he’d gotten up onto the balls of his feet. His mouth was wet and pink. He sounded breathless. “A good kiss. Or, better, at least.” 

Speaking had spread the flush from his ears to the tops of his cheeks, and he began to turn away. Mingyu, nearly tripping over himself, reached out and took Jihoon’s wrist.

“You are driving me crazy,” he choked out, leaning towards him. They met somewhere in the middle, Jihoon’s grip tight on the front of his shirt, Mingyu dipping down, lips joining in a gasping, open-mouthed kiss. There was a hunger that had been restrained before, a want that made Mingyu groan, and he pushed in as close as he could get. Jihoon took a half-step stumble backwards before his back hit the kitchen counter with a small, pained grunt.

“—gyu, I—” 

Mingyu gripped Jihoon by the hips, lifting him to sit on the countertop. They were level with each other now, Jihoon’s expression one of unrestrained surprise.

“You—you are—”

“Ridiculous,” Mingyu finished for him, Jihoon’s expression melting into a laugh, his eyes falling closed, cupping Mingyu’s face in both hands and pressing their foreheads together.

Jihoon ended up staying for the day. The laughter had slowed the fervor from before but they still spent a moment there, warming Mingyu from the inside, pressed up between Jihoon’s knees with Jihoon’s arms around his neck. That good feeling welled up and spilled over, Mingyu needing to take a moment, breaking the kiss to dip his head and press his face into Jihoon’s chest.

“Minggu?” There was a light amusement in Jihoon’s tone.

“I like you,” Mingyu felt the need to say, voice muffled. “I really like you a lot.”

Jihoon laughed again, the sound full of honest affection, lifting Mingyu’s face with gentle fingers and pressing a scatter of kisses across Mingyu’s cheeks until he was laughing too.

They still had to take care of the dogs and themselves, Mingyu working on putting together some food while Jihoon got the fire started. They went on a longer walk in the early evening, the trees glittering, the temperature bearable with how the wind was non-existent, the dogs bounding through the snow around them. They came home just in time for Mingyu to get started on dinner and despite all of the effort that Mingyu had put in the day previously, despite the candlelight and excuse of a celebration, this dinner felt much more like a date than the last one had. 

Some wall between them had collapsed; Jihoon, in particular, was much more comfortable. Their conversation shifted almost immediately to their individual interests, Jihoon chatting first about music—he liked to compose for fun and had a personal SoundCloud—then about anime—they liked a lot of the same shows, but Jihoon was still an active, avid watcher and had a multitude of adorably strong opinions—then about his personal trainer job, the two of them connecting about a few relatable experiences that came from regularly going to the gym before he went on another ramble about nutrition and his dislike of diet culture. Eventually Mingyu couldn’t help himself, letting his chin sink into his hand, watching how animated he got.

“I—what?” Jihoon finally asked, when he’d paused to breathe and noticed that he was being stared at. Mingyu laughed. 

“I had no idea you were so talkative,” he said, and Jihoon turned so red so fast that Mingyu nearly got concerned for him, watching as he shoved his face into his hands. “You’re cute, hyung.”

“I’m not,” Jihoon grumbled back. He rubbed at his cheeks, both looking and sounding like a grumpy cat, and it didn’t help his defense in the slightest. To Mingyu’s delight, it took so long for the blush to fade that he ended up needing to kiss Jihoon about it, washing their used dishes as quickly as he could before crowding Jihoon up against the counter again. 

“We have got to stop making out in the kitchen,” Jihoon mumbled against his mouth. Mingyu, caught off guard, let out a laugh and pressed his forehead into Jihoon’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around Jihoon’s waist.

“I’m just saying!” Jihoon continued, the protesting slightly exaggerated for the sake of Mingyu’s amusement, lifting an arm to gesture to the entire rest of the cabin. “There’s a couch, there’s a bed—”

At “bed”, Mingyu lifted his head. Jihoon noticed, and though the blush was back, the smile didn’t leave either, Mingyu turning both of their bodies to the open doorway.

“Oh my god—” Jihoon started, the words lost to giggles as Mingyu began leaving clumsy kisses across his face and neck, leading him back one step at a time.

“It was your suggestion hyung,” Mingyu defended, and Jihoon was absolutely breathless with laughter by the time the back of his knees hit the bed, falling onto it. The speed at which Mingyu crawled on after him barely gave Jihoon enough time to properly situate himself, his lips quirked into a grin.

“Eager?” he asked, glancing up at Mingyu. 

“Thought about doing this a few times,” Mingyu confessed. Jihoon was flat on his back on the mattress under him and he looked perfect, lips kiss-pink and smiling, eyes bright, hair feathered out across the pillow, all warm and pliant and happy. “I—god, I like you so much.” 

Jihoon lifted up off the pillows and pressed a short kiss to Mingyu’s lips. “Show me what you imagined,” he murmured, the words low, vibrating down Mingyu’s spine and sparking in his stomach. Something left Mingyu’s mouth, a sort of strangled groan, the heat in his body only growing when he kissed Jihoon again and felt a smile there, one of Jihoon’s legs coming up to hook over his hip.

Mingyu kissed and kissed and kissed him, reveling in the way Jihoon kissed back, in how vocal he was; his breath stuttered when Mingyu slid a hand into his shirt, small sounds catching each labored exhale when Mingyu nipped at his neck, and when Mingyu slowly let his body down, resting his weight against Jihoon’s hips, Jihoon groaned into Mingyu’s mouth, his back arching, one hand twisting into the back of Mingyu’s shirt, the other sliding down to grip Mingyu’s ass.

“Want you,” Mingyu murmured, grinding down with purpose, wanting Jihoon to know just what he meant, and how he meant it. He was almost fully hard, and the loose fabric of Jihoon’s sweatpants had Mingyu able to feel Jihoon’s hard-on too, firm and hot against his thigh. 

“Mingyu-yah, I—I don’t—” 

That made Mingyu pull back, looking down at him. Jihoon’s face was flushed, his pupils wide, and despite what he’d said, his leg hadn’t lifted from how it was hooked over Mingyu’s hip.

“Hyung?”

“No, I just—I meant to say… I don’t have any condoms.” He said it like it pained him. 

“Really?” 

“I didn’t bring any.” A streak of amusement cut Jihoon’s otherwise keyed-up expression. “Didn’t exactly think I’d need them.”

That was… a very fair point, Mingyu’s head falling onto the pillow to snort a laugh into Jihoon’s hair. There were things they could still do, sure—some of them things that Mingyu really, really wanted to do—but just how much he wanted Jihoon inside of him had him feeling just a bit delirious. It led to a thought that he almost didn’t want to voice out loud, but the idea made his hips twitch despite himself, and Jihoon sent him a questioning glance. 

“Do you have lube?” Mingyu asked. 

“I—yeah.” Jihoon nodded, his cheeks flushing deeper at the admittance. “Some.” 

“And…” Mingyu had to swallow before asking his next question. “Are you clean?” 

Jihoon went completely still under him, Mingyu’s insinuation fully realized. It wasn’t a smart idea, and Mingyu wouldn’t blame Jihoon in the slightest if he turned it down, but Jihoon’s eyes had gone a kind of liquid dark, meeting Mingyu’s own.

“I… Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, I am. You?” 

Mingyu nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Fuck,” Jihoon murmured again, quick and low, dragging Mingyu’s face back to his by his hair and pressing a kiss to his mouth. 

“That’s the idea,” Mingyu murmured against his lips, and that just made Jihoon laugh, his head lifting up off the bed, his forehead pressing into Mingyu’s shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” he asked when he pulled back. Mingyu couldn’t nod fast enough.

“As long as you are,” he responded. “Don’t let me sway your decision, but I do kind of feel like I might die if you don’t fuck me, hyung.” 

Jihoon’s lips twitched in amusement, considering Mingyu for a moment, genuine thought on his face. Then he moved to get up, Mingyu sitting up to let him. 

“I’ll grab the lube,” he said, making his way to the edge of the bed, standing up. Then he reached back, patting Mingyu’s ass. “Why don’t you get undressed for me?” 

Mingyu’s entire body flushed with heat so fast that a throb ran through him, Jihoon disappearing into the bathroom. Mingyu had stripped down to his underwear by the time Jihoon returned, emerging with only his shirt discarded. His body was firm and incredibly distracting, his sweatpants low on his hips, his dick bobbing slightly under the fabric as he moved. He had the aforementioned bottle of lube in his hand and Mingyu, who had rolled to lay on his front, had to pause to stare at him. 

“What?” Jihoon asked, coming to a stop at the edge of the bed, tossing the bottle onto the bed and ruffling at his hair. “Don’t be weird.”

“What?” Mingyu asked back, mildly incredulous. “Hyung, am I going to have to choke on your dick to convince you that you’re hot?” He nuzzled at Jihoon’s hip, grinning in satisfaction when he felt Jihoon’s dick twitch against his cheek. “Though, I forgot to tell you, control over my gag reflex is another one of those things I'm pretty good at.”

Jihoon was staring down at him. 

“I don’t think you’re real,” he finally managed out, and with a laugh, Mingyu pulled him onto the mattress. 

The sex was so good that Marshmallow nearly broke the door down out of fear that Jihoon was hurting Mingyu. Mingyu couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good, stretched out well and fucked so thoroughly that the muscles in his abdomen kept twitching with the occasional aftershock, with absolutely no faith that his legs would hold him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so wanted, the way sweet words kept leaving Jihoon’s mouth, Jihoon’s beautiful hands seemingly unable to stop touching him, roaming anywhere they could reach. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so cared for, Jihoon petting his hair or cupping his face to rub his cheekbone whenever Mingyu needed to breathe, constantly checking in with him, bringing his own fingertips to his lips in a kiss before pushing those fingers in Mingyu’s mouth to quiet him.

There was an edge to that sweetness that made it ache, that made it perfect; Jihoon cooed at Mingyu the first time he came, calling him pretty and leaning in for a kiss. The moment Mingyu gained the wherewithal to return the kiss though, that affection grew hungry, Jihoon murmuring out "Want to see that again," before gripping Mingyu by the hips and making sure that he did.

And now, Mingyu was lying in bed, sweat cooling on his skin, exhausted satisfaction syrup-thick as it settled deep into his limbs. Jihoon was next to him, an arm slung over Mingyu’s bare chest.

“We need to get up," he finally said. His voice was slow. Mingyu made a small, dissenting noise. "No, we do. If we don't, I'm going to fall asleep.”

“Sounds nice.” Mingyu let his eyes fall closed, exhaustion washing over him. “Let's do that instead. Let's just fall asleep.”

“It won't be nice when you wake up later and you haven't cleaned up,” Jihoon countered. With what seemed like a momentous effort, he pulled himself upright, reaching his hands out for Mingyu to hold. “C'mon. I'll help you.”

The offer was sweet, Mingyu taking it, Jihoon pulling him upright too.

Really, Jihoon was right. Mingyu was a mess, and it was only a matter of time before the cool air left him unpleasantly sticky. Jihoon's promise of help got him up on wobbly knees, and they got in the shower together.

“Wow, hyung.” Mingyu couldn’t help a light laugh as he watched Jihoon in the mirror, both of them brushing their teeth. The shower had taken a little longer than intended, and though Mingyu was definitely comfortable and clean, he was also now sporting a rather large hickey under his jaw. They’d both redressed in just sweatpants, and Jihoon barely had his eyes open. “Wear yourself out?” 

Jihoon leaned over the sink to spit, raising an eyebrow as he rinsed off his toothbrush. “You’re not tired?” he asked back. Mingyu tsked.

“Such a stereotype,” he said, raising his voice to stay audible as Jihoon left the bathroom. “Falling asleep right after! Shameless.” 

Jihoon responded to that by crashing headlong into the pillows, Mingyu laughing out loud as he watched him. He rinsed his own toothbrush and followed, Jihoon clicking the light off and beginning to get comfortable, scooting in closer to Mingyu.

“Hey, hyung?” Mingyu asked, feeling hesitant. Jihoon made a soft, inquisitive noise. “I, um… I like to be the little spoon, actually. If that’s okay.” 

There was a moment of silence, then Jihoon let out a sigh. 

“You are so fucking cute,” he mumbled, shifting up on the pillows and wrapping an arm over Mingyu’s chest. Mingyu fell asleep warm, comfortable, and content.

How he woke up, though, was the complete opposite. His phone was ringing, Jeonghan’s personalized tone cutting into his subconscious. It sounded like it was coming from the floor by his side of the bed, Mingyu starting to shift, trying to reach for it, just for Jihoon’s arm to lay across him more insistently, an opposed grumble leaving his mouth.

“Need to answer my phone,” Mingyu explained, bleary. He felt like he'd just slept for a week, but it couldn't be that late in the morning; it was late enough that the sun was up, but not so late that the dogs had come to bother them for breakfast. 

“No you don't,” Jihoon countered. “It's already gone to voicemail three other times. You sleep like a rock.”

His complete lack of concern about the fact that this was Mingyu’s manager's fourth time calling him would have made Mingyu laugh, if it didn't worry him so much. He shifted again, Jihoon properly grabbing at him that time, squeezing Mingyu’s pec. 

“Hyung!”

Jihoon’s response was to tilt his chin up, and after receiving a kiss, seemed placated enough to let Mingyu disentangle himself as much as was needed to pick up his phone, managing to answer before it went to voicemail again. 

“Hello? Hyung?”

“Mingyu-yah!” Jeonghan didn't sound angry, Mingyu relaxing back against the pillows. “Finally. Where are you?”

“Uh…” That was the most confusing question Mingyu had gotten in a while. “The same place I've been for the last two weeks, hyung.”

Jihoon snorted a laugh at that, rolling to slot one of his thighs between both of Mingyu’s, nuzzling his face into Mingyu's neck. He was warm and heavy, nice and comfortable. 

“I'm at the resort,” Jeonghan said. “They cleared the passage out last night.”

“They did?”

“Jihoon-ssi didn't tell you?”

One look at Jihoon's face told Mingyu that Jihoon hadn't even known, seeming as surprised as Mingyu felt. That made sense though; he'd been busy last night, after all. He'd missed all radio messages they'd likely tried sending.

“He, uh—he didn't go to work yesterday. They told him he wasn't needed.” 

“Oh.” Jeonghan huffed. “Well… They told the resort, and since I'm your emergency contact—and because I've been calling them twice a day about when you'll be back—they called me. I've been here since last night.” 

“Last night? Why didn't you call me sooner?”

“I thought that it might be safer to wait until the next morning, just in case. You coming back in the dark had too much of a chance of something else happening to you, and you know that I don't have enough energy to take care of your husky if you die.”

Jihoon exhaled another laugh against Mingyu’s skin, his next kiss against Mingyu’s neck open-mouthed and hot. It rendered Mingyu unable to respond for a moment, and Jeonghan continued on.

“Anyway, I'm here, the sun is up, and we have a lot of work to do, so if you could join me as fast as possible, that would be appreciated.” 

“Y-yeah.” Jihoon nipped at his collarbone, his thigh pressing more insistently between Mingyu’s legs. It was taking all Mingyu had not to grind against it. “Course, hyung.” 

An extended pause lingered on the line.

“Any idea when that will be?” Jeonghan finally prompted. Mingyu was tempted to make him wait a few hours—a terribly desperate part of his brain was saying never— but Mingyu also felt bad that Jeonghan had already stayed one night there, almost positive that the agency wasn't going to compensate him for it, and check-out at the resort was at ten.

“I'll need to like, wake up and get my stuff together, but I'll be there before check-out, hyung. I promise.”

“Alright.” Jeonghan's voice had gone skeptical, but he didn't call Mingyu out on his words, or the tone they'd been said with. “See you soon, Mingyu-yah. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Mingyu managed out, just as Jihoon’s head traveled down, his lips closing over a nipple. Mingyu hit “end call” and dropped his phone on the floor, groaning when Jihoon nipped at his skin again.

“You menace, that—you knew who I was on the phone with!” he panted out. Jihoon just grinned at him.

“Get your stuff together?” he asked. “You didn't bring anything with you.”

Mingyu just grabbed at Jihoon's chin, bringing Jihoon’s head back towards him for a kiss, letting his hips grind up against Jihoon’s thigh. Jihoon kept him there, pinned and writhing and desperate until Mingyu managed to get himself off, and it was so hot that Mingyu insisted on blowing him before they actually got out of bed. 

By then the dogs were hungry and Mingyu was too, but they were really running out of time; all Mingyu could do was make some instant ramyeon, the two of them slurping it down before pulling on layers of warm clothes.

“I wanted to give you a better goodbye meal than this,” Mingyu complained, shrugging his coat onto his shoulders. “Contact me when you get back to Seoul, so I can cook for you again. I owe you at least one more nice meal.”

“You really don't owe me anything,” Jihoon insisted. He looked at Mingyu for a moment. “Actually… Actually, you need this. Lean down.”

He took his own scarf off, folding it over and reaching towards Mingyu’s neck. Mingyu bent obligingly, Jihoon wrapping it around his neck for him.

“Hickeys,” Jihoon explained sheepishly, grinning when Mingyu laughed. The smile was wide enough that it showed his teeth and Mingyu felt his heart squeeze, pushing his forehead into Jihoon's. 

“I'm gonna miss you,” he said. “Gonna miss you so much.” 

Jihoon didn't answer, just tilting his chin, keeping Mingyu close by his grip on the scarf and kissing him. It was a sweet, knee-weakening kiss, Mingyu wrapping his arms around Jihoon’s waist to keep him close for just a little bit longer. 

“Come on,” Jihoon said, pushing lightly at Mingyu’s chest. “You're going to be late. Let's go.”

The snowmobile ride back was shorter than Mingyu wanted, his arms tight around Jihoon, resting his head on Jihoon’s back and watching the dogs run beside the bike. When the resort came into view, Mingyu was surprised to see Jeonghan standing outside, who jogged up when the snowmobile came to a stop, pulling Mingyu into a quick, surprisingly tight hug. Marshmallow barked in delight at the sight of him, hurrying up to dance around their feet.

“There are a few paparazzi here,” he warned Mingyu, his voice quiet.

“Don't dislodge the scarf,” Mingyu warned back, and Jeonghan didn't question the words, pulling away to properly look at him.

“Are you okay, Mingyu-yah? Gosh, you scared me so much.” He reached up, tugging at Mingyu’s bangs, Mingyu yelping and swatting at him. Jihoon was watching the interaction with interest. “I'm going to get gray hairs.” 

“It's not my fault you're old,” Mingyu whined, Jeonghan stooping to greet Marshmallow. “Jeonghan-hyung, this is Jihoon-hyung. Jihoon-hyung, this is my manager.”

The two bowed once at each other, Jeonghan bowing again when he spoke.

“Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Oh, it—” Jihoon waved his hands quickly. “It was no trouble, really.”

Thanks to Jeonghan's warning of people possibly taking pictures, Mingyu couldn't give Jihoon the farewell he wanted, saying goodbye to Gamja before taking one of Jihoon’s hands in both of his, pressing it to his chest. 

“Goodbye, hyung. Thanks for everything.”

Jihoon smiled. “Bye, Minggu.” 

Mingyu wanted to kiss him so much it hurt, needing to let Jihoon go and turn away before he actually ended his career. They didn't even need to enter the resort, Jeonghan having retrieved his things from his vacant room for him, simply walking towards the car. Jeonghan wrapped an arm around Mingyu’s waist as they went, his voice light. 

“Oh, I see. Be careful with that scarf when you get in the car, Mingyu-yah. It might be safe to leave it on until you're all the way back home.” 

Mingyu reached up to cover his neck, where he had one hickey from the night before on one side, a fresh one from this morning on the other. “Shut up, hyung.”

Jeonghan’s laugh was loud as they climbed into the car and drove away. It wasn't until they were halfway home that Jeonghan made a small noise of interest, telling Mingyu to check his Instagram DMs. That wasn't a part of his account that Mingyu was usually given access to, and with how it was so overrun with spam messages, he didn't miss it, either. But he knew immediately why Jeonghan had told him to look; an account had sent him something. He didn't recognize the username and the profile picture was just fingers on a guitar, but the fingertips were familiar, and the message confirmed who it must be. 

I miss you too. 

Mingyu tried to stay in contact with Jihoon. He got Jihoon’s KakaoTalk ID so they could talk on a platform that wasn’t monitored by Mingyu’s staff, but as he had feared, he was horrifically busy. He had to catch up on things he'd missed, and keep up with new work to make sure he didn't get further behind, and go to media training get his story straight for the inevitable interview questions. Free time was a thing of the past, and as a result, Mingyu was usually made to bulk-reply at midnight to anything Jihoon had sent him throughout the day before crashing into bed and telling himself—in vain—that he would do better tomorrow. It made conversations awkward, stilted, and easily fizzled out, Mingyu unable not to apologize. 

It's alright, Jihoon sent back. You're busy. I understand. 

Messages still were daily throughout the end of January, Mingyu trying hard for optimism when February hit. Sure, the Ralph Lauren collection was coming out and he had a substantial amount of interviews lined up, but Jihoon had told him that he usually returned to Seoul at the end of the month, weather permitting. It would be easier to keep in touch when the connection was stable enough for a phone or video call, and he only had a few more weeks of work before he was fully caught up. Then they could spend actual, face-to-face, quality time together, Mingyu determined to use that to set things back on track.

I miss you, he couldn’t keep himself from sending. He was lying in bed, and it was late and he was feeling tired, so it was probably a little sappier than he ought to be. It was the truth, though. He rolled onto his side. Wish you were here.

Yeah? Jihoon sent back. What would you do? If I were there? 

Mingyu didn’t even need to consider it. 

Ask about more of your anime opinions
Just want to hear your voice 

It took Jihoon nearly five minutes to respond.

Did not expect that
Hey
Stop trying to be cute

The last message was softened by the laughter punctuating it, and then Jihoon sent a link. It was his SoundCloud account, Mingyu met with a surprising amount of both covers and original songs.

Wow… Hyung?

Just don’t tell me if you hate it, Jihoon sent back. Or if you like it

Just don’t mention it at all 

Mingyu could imagine Jihoon’s embarrassment, giggling, rolling to press his face into his pillow. The first file was a cover of Bye Bye My Blue by Yerin Baek, Mingyu pressing play and closing his eyes, Jihoon’s soft voice lulling him to sleep. 

Mingyu ended up glad to have the link in more ways than one, because in the weeks that followed, contact from Jihoon became more and more scarce. Mingyu’s schedule was evening out and opening up, and now it was Jihoon who would take hours to get back to him, or respond when Mingyu was asleep, or only answer with stickers that, while cute, didn't do much to facilitate further conversation. Mingyu tried to bat down his trauma and not read too much into it, telling himself that it was probably Jihoon’s turn to be busy; it had to be tough and time consuming, packing the cabin up and getting ready to leave. 

Instead, he focused on fun things. He edited all the videos he'd taken, asking mostly for help from Wonwoo but turning to internet tutorials for questions that felt a little too embarrassing. He brought his tablet with him wherever he went, in case he felt like sketching while he was in the car. He got back into asking the photographers he worked with questions about lenses and lighting and other effects, the same way he had when he was a rookie, and it was still as interesting as it had been back then; by the end of the week he'd purchased a handful of his own expensive camera lenses on the internet, using Marshmallow to test them out. 

The instruments were harder to come by, because Mingyu wasn't sure that he was committed enough to actually buy a bass guitar, or that he had enough room in his apartment for a keyboard. His complaining about it eventually led to Wonwoo telling him that the guy he was currently in a “situationship” with had his own piano, which in turn led to Mingyu going over to the apartment of a man named Wen Junhui with a fellow Wonwoo for emotional support, a printed PDF of River Flows In You for study, and a full bag of hotpot ingredients as a thank you. 

Practicing the piece wasn't quite the same when it wasn't tucked into the well-loved crease of Jihoon’s book of sheet music with the self-important dog-eared corner, but he was able to manage it all the same, updating his progress on his Instagram Story. Mingyu noticed Jihoon watching the videos, so he set aside a red cable knit sweater from the Ralph Lauren collection that he knew Jihoon would look incredible in, hoping that giving it to him wouldn't seem too forward once Jihoon was back in Seoul. 

The sweater made a home on the top shelf in his closet as March came into view. Mingyu had used the last week of February hinting about wanting to see Jihoon, but his final message, sent three days previously and left open but unresponded to, was a blunt When will you be back in Seoul? When can I see you?

“He still hasn’t answered?” Jeonghan asked, when he picked Mingyu up the next morning. There was no work to do today, but Jeonghan knew Mingyu was sulking and had insisted they go try out a new cafe together. Mingyu was grateful for the companionship. “I think he’s officially a jerk, Mingyu-yah.” 

“He’s not,” Mingyu responded. He knew how Jeonghan could get, when Mingyu’s heart was involved; protective, and consequently, quick to judge. “He’s probably moving, right? He’s busy.”

“Not too busy to not message you back,” Jeonghan grumbled, and unfortunately Mingyu didn’t really have a counterargument for that. They’d arrived at the cafe, ordered, and gotten their food and drinks—Mingyu was quite happy with his latte and strawberry french toast—by the time Jeonghan spoke again. “What if you just book a session with him?” 

“I… What?”

“He's a personal trainer, right?” Jeonghan stole a strawberry slice from Mingyu’s plate by spearing it with the knife he was holding, popping the fruit into his mouth and speaking around it. “I know where he works. It wouldn't be hard.” 

“Hyung, ambushing someone at work is like, the number one thing not to do if you're trying to get them to go out with you,” Mingyu said.

“It would work, though.”

“No.”

“He wouldn't be able to run away!”

“Yeah, that's the part that's bad about it.”

“You've got to do something, Mingyu-yah.”

Unfortunately, Mingyu’s current plan was to listen to Jihoon's SoundCloud songs and mope, and he knew Jeonghan wouldn't take that as an answer. 

“I want to just give him a little more time.”

Really, Mingyu should have seen it coming. But no, he simply believed Jeonghan, when he texted Mingyu in the morning two days later and said that his regular gym was closed for shower repairs. And that Mingyu’s membership would work at a partnered gym about twenty minutes away, and that he was expected at ten-thirty, so management would know to let him in. All he had to do was walk in at the right time and ask for Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol seemed to be the guy manning the front desk. He had a cute smile and impressive biceps, a pair of crutches leaned against the wall behind him. 

“Ah, and you're the ten-thirty?” Seungcheol asked, focusing in on the computer in front of him when Mingyu nodded. “Alright. Just go through that door on the left and make yourself comfortable; we're running a little behind schedule but it shouldn't be too much of a wait.”

Mingyu did as he was told, closing the door and shucking off his sweatpants and hoodie, standing in the room in gym shorts and a tank top when he realized that everything he'd just been told didn't make much sense. Running late? Sure, he was a stranger to how this facility ran things, but all he needed was access to the equipment and the showers; the time didn't matter. Besides, with all the rolled yoga mats and foam blocks, he wasn’t sure what kind of workout the room he was in would give him. He opened the door, ready to ask Seungcheol about it, just to stop in the doorway when Seungcheol spoke. 

“Yah, Jihoon-ah. You really can't keep wearing your slides on the gym floor.” 

Jihoon-ah. And sure enough, Jihoon walked into view. He was wearing black shorts and a black t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up his shoulders, his dark hair tied into a small bun. And he did have slides on his feet, reaching for the front desk’s table top and drumming his fingertips against it. He smiled at Seungcheol, so handsome that Mingyu was torn between cursing Jeonghan for going behind his back like this, or just thanking him for it. 

“Is my ten-thirty here yet? The new client?” 

“I'm serious!” Seungcheol exclaimed, seemingly upset at being ignored. “People are going to start copying you, and then we'll have a big problem.”

“No they won't,” Jihoon said, almost as though Seungcheol was some kind of idiot. “They can’t. We have a closed-toe shoe policy.”

“I—exactly!” Seungcheol waved an arm behind himself and, without looking, planted his hand on the safety poster behind him, directly on the symbol of a sandal with a big red “X” over it. The accuracy of his blind aim gave Mingyu the feeling they'd had this argument more than once. “This applies to you too!”

Jihoon just laughed, beginning to turn, catching sight of Mingyu in the doorway. His smile froze. 

“That's your ten-thirty,” Seungcheol said, his expression betraying that he knew who Mingyu was, at least in relation to Jihoon. That he'd had somewhat of a hand in orchestrating this too. 

“Hi,” Mingyu said, because someone had to say something, and he had the feeling Jihoon wouldn’t. “Can we talk?” 

Jihoon gave a small nod, Mingyu stepping back from the doorway. When Jihoon entered he closed the door behind himself, Mingyu catching the last few moments of Seungcheol’s concerned expression before it was blocked from view. He took a deep breath in and let it all out.

“First, I want to apologize,” he started, because he really did. “I didn't know you worked here. My gym is closed, Jeonghan-hyung told me to come here, I…” His voice trailed away as he realized, belatedly, that his own gym probably wasn't closed at all. “I knew this was an idea he had, but I specifically told him not to do it. I'm sorry, hyung.”

“I believe you,” Jihoon finally said. His eyes were on his feet. He didn't continue, an awkward silence permeating the room. 

“When did you come back?” Mingyu asked. Jihoon swallowed. 

“About a week ago.”

About a week. As long as it had been since Mingyu’s last message, which had gone unanswered. Mingyu decided to grit his teeth and stand up for himself. 

“It's alright if you don’t want to see me anymore, but I would rather you be upfront with me about it.” 

Silence rang through the room after the statement, and after a moment, Jihoon nodded a little. 

“I… I'm sorry too,” he finally said. “I got scared.” 

The confession sounded incredibly honest, and not at all what Mingyu expected to hear. He immediately began cycling through everything he’d said and done since he’d gotten off the back of Jihoon’s skimobile at the resort, but Jihoon met his eyes and shook his head. 

“You’ve been fine,” he said, like he knew what Mingyu was thinking. He made a few nonsense hand gestures, as though to collect his thoughts, then began again. “It was… So… Okay. I didn’t mean not to respond, at first. It really did slip my mind—I saw the message and got busy, so I kind of forgot—but then I… I saw you in an ad. Actually in an advertisement. On YouTube.” 

“Oh.” Mingyu shifted his weight from one foot to the other. That wasn't particularly surprising to hear, but Jihoon had said it with a decent amount of gravity. 

“You really are somebody, out here,” Jihoon continued. “You told me, I know, but it didn't really sink in. I didn’t understand how I could fit into that, or why you would want me to. Neither of us had changed, but something still felt different. I thought that maybe it would be better to just let you get back to your model life.” 

The explanation had brought a dusting of pink across Jihoon’s cheeks that traveled steadily up to the tips of his ears. He hadn’t ever put his hair up while they were at the cabin, and it was almost painful now, how beautiful he looked; the bun was neat and sleek, a few short locks in the front coming down to curl in towards the corners of his mouth. 

“Then…  you know.” Jihoon let out a long breath of his own, his cheeks puffing out as he did. “It felt like I’d taken too long to answer, which is awkward, and that made it harder to figure out what to say, so I waited longer, which made it worse, and… yeah. But… But it was still wrong of me. I’m sorry.” 

He seemed like he meant it, Mingyu nodding. Of everything he’d expected Jihoon to say, those concerns hadn’t been on the list, and it was understandable.  

“I believe you,” Mingyu said, and as he'd hoped it would, the echo of words brought a small smile to Jihoon's lips, Jihoon glancing up at him. “I didn't think about how this might be for you. I've never really met someone outside of this—” he waved his arm, attempting to capture Seoul, both in location and context, and Jihoon nodded. “—and if that really is a concern for you, then… Then I get it. But I'd like it if we kept in touch. I'm never not going to be grateful that I met you, hyung.”

“Aish,” Jihoon complained, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked away. “I don't understand how you can talk like that, seriously.”

“It can be embarrassing,” Mingyu admitted, the honesty making Jihoon grin, “but it helps that I actually have been able to get back into most of my hobbies, after talking about them with you. I can combat early stage frostbite, and play a song on the piano, and…” He met Jihoon’s eyes. “You gave me calm and kindness at a time when I really, really needed it. I don’t know that I would have met you under any other circumstances, but I am glad that I did, and I think you deserve to know that.”

Jihoon took a short step closer to him, Mingyu continuing when Jihoon didn't speak. 

“I really, really like you. I’ve missed you a lot. And if you’d be willing to give this a try, then I would love to use whatever time I have left of this workout session to take you out to lunch.” 

Jihoon’s fingers curled in Mingyu’s shirt, properly stepping up to him and tilting his chin up. When he gave a light tug, Mingyu leaned in obligingly, unsure of where this was going but willing to find out. 

“Hyung?”

“I'm going to kiss you,” Jihoon explained, his voice soft. A smile broke out across Mingyu’s face, a small, happy laugh escaping him a moment later. It was not at all conducive to Jihoon being able to kiss him, who tugged on his shirt again.

“Hey, stop it.”

“I can't,” Mingyu said helplessly, another laugh leaving his mouth, wrapping his arms around Jihoon. Jihoon began laughing too, small giggles that broke against the skin of Mingyu’s neck. Finally, finally, Mingyu was able to calm himself down enough to press a close-mouthed smile of a kiss against Jihoon’s lips, which just made Jihoon laugh again. 

“Yes. Um, by the way.” Jihoon’s hands were on his hips, resting lightly, the fingers of his right hand fiddling with the fabric. “I want to give it a try. I missed you a lot too, so I don't think we should go to lunch.”

Mingyu looked down at him, one eyebrow raised. “Why's that?”

“I think Seungcheol feels guilty enough about coordinating this that he'll let me off work for the rest of the day, and I remember you saying that you owed me one more meal.” Jihoon reached up with both arms, wrapping them around Mingyu’s neck. He was so solid and warm. “So I think you should cook for me.” 

Those words turned Mingyu on so fast that he actually felt a bit lightheaded. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Okay. Sure.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” 

“That was maybe one of the hottest things anyone's ever said to me.”

Jihoon went a little pink in the face, though his smile didn't fade. 

“I meant that literally, I wasn't insinuating—”

“I know,” Mingyu assured him. 

“Oh.” Jihoon laughed. “So you're just weird.”

“Totally.” Mingyu wrapped his arms around Jihoon again. “Just wait until you ask me to do your laundry for you.”

It was Mingyu’s turn, then, to wait for Jihoon to stop laughing before he could kiss him, but he didn't mind. One kiss turned to two, turned to more, until Jihoon was pressed against him, leaning back just enough to pant into his mouth.

“I take back what I said about it not being an insinuation,” he said, and Mingyu laughed again. 

“Let's get back to my place first,” he suggested, because while Jihoon might not care much about his workplace's rules, Mingyu didn't want to be a bad influence.  

Jihoon took Mingyu’s hand in his as they re-emerged, though that didn't seem to do much to quiet Seungcheol’s anxious expression. He even got to his feet when he saw them, swaying to the side to put all of his weight on one leg.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked Jihoon. Jihoon let out a momentous sigh, tucking hair behind his ears with his free hand.

“No,” he admitted.

“What did Jeonghan-hyung bribe you with?” Mingyu had to ask. Seungcheol’s face went incredibly bright pink.

“Um,” he said. Then, honest, “His phone number.” 

In looking at him, that news did not surprise Mingyu in the slightest. 

“I'm taking the rest of the day off,” Jihoon informed Seungcheol, and as expected, Seungcheol didn't protest. Mingyu pulled his phone out of his pocket with his free hand, working on calling a ride. “Gamja is going to need dinner, his afternoon walk, and breakfast tomorrow, and I would appreciate it if you called Seokmin for me, and if he's too busy to dogsit let me know.” 

Seungcheol blinked in surprise, Mingyu going completely still and looking down at him. Jihoon seemed to feel the look, looking back. 

“Is that okay?” he asked. Mingyu just managed back a nod, Jihoon grabbing some belongings from behind the front desk—a phone, wallet, hoodie, and ball cap—and then they were out the door. 

“Do you need to go by your apartment and get anything?” Mingyu asked him. Jihoon shook his head.

“Are you sure this is alright?” he asked back. “I just—I wanted to show that I do want to spend time with you.” Then, a little quieter, “I missed sleeping next to you.” 

“It's very alright,” was all Mingyu said, feeling like he might combust if he acknowledged Jihoon's last words, with the effect they were having on his heart. Which seemed fine, because Jihoon looked like he might combust too. Jeonghan hadn't scheduled Mingyu for anything today, something that had confused him in the moment but made sense in hindsight, and while the place wasn't spotless, it also wasn't a level of messy that Mingyu found embarrassing. “Though, I need to warn you, my apartment isn't nearly as romantic as a log cabin in the snow.”

That had an amused exhale leaving Jihoon’s nose.

“As long as you have a kitchen to make out in, it'll work,” he responded, and Mingyu laughed. 

While Mingyu knew there were still a few things to talk about, knew that the wintery bubble they'd met in had been burst, knew that he had a lot more about Jihoon to learn, relearn, or recontextualize, he also knew that he was more than willing to give it a try. The comfortable way Jihoon kicked off his shoes after entering Mingyu’s front door, the sweet way he greeted a whiningly-excited Marshmallow, and the laugh he let out when Mingyu led him into the kitchen, tangling their fingers and looking at him with a sort of unabashed affection, had Mingyu sure that despite all of the unknowns, they were on the same page.

“Can I pick you up?” Mingyu decided to ask. He would very much like to have Jihoon sitting on the counter, the perfect height for peppering with little kisses while he made lunch. Jihoon acquiesced with a nod, and once he and Mingyu were more level he leaned in to wrap his arms around Mingyu’s neck. He seemed to like doing that. Mingyu liked it too.

“Hi,” Mingyu said, and Jihoon got very suddenly shy, looking away and kicking his swinging feet, a decent height off the ground. 

“You're ridiculous,” he said. Mingyu was absolutely hopeless against the grin on his face.

“You like me, though.”

Jihoon slid one hand to the side of Mingyu’s face, cupping his cheek. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, I really do.”