It was the middle of the night.

The room was quiet apart from the clap and crackle of the storm raging outside, and the room felt empty as Seungcheol reached out his arm to the vacant spot where Jihoon had slept. Yet, Seungcheol felt at home as he felt the warmth Jihoon’s body had left behind - a silent promise that he would always return.

“Jihoonie,” Seungcheol whines, hoping his boyfriend could hear him from the kitchen where he was getting a glass of water.

Seungcheol’s bare chest was littered with goosebumps as he wrapped the duvet tighter around his shivering body.

“Jihoonie, it’s cold,” he calls, waiting for the boy’s usual response of “it’s called a sweater, you should wear one.” But it never came.

Seungcheol frowned at the silence. His boyfriend was never one to pass up an opportunity to complain about his choice of sleeping attire in the dead of winter.

Seungcheol untangled himself from the sheets, wincing as he placed his feet on the icy floor. He grabbed the duvet in defeat, wrapping it around himself like a cocoon, knowing that he’d never be able to reach the kitchen in only his boxers.

Seungcheol shuffles down the hall slowly, keeping the duvet tight around him and cursing as he stubs his toe on a misjudged corner.

“Jihoon?” He asks – his voice soft in the hushed house as he sees the boy’s silhouette standing in the kitchen.

Seungcheol fumbles with a light switch, which was only in vain as the power was out, before giving up and moving towards his boyfriend, his fingers lifting to lightly brush his shoulder.

Jihoon flinches away from the touch and Seungcheol’s stomach drops as worry gnaws at his insides.

Seungcheol raises his hands so they’re only hovering at the side of the boy’s face, knowing that he couldn’t handle another reaction like the prior.

“You can tell me if anything’s wrong you know that, right?” Seungcheol asks, his eyes straining to read Jihoon’s expression.

Another lightning strike illuminates the room and Seungcheol only has a second to view the fear on Jihoon’s face before the boy crumples into himself, sinking to the floor as his whole body shakes.

Seungcheol watched on in horror, but when Jihoon flinched at the next roar of thunder, he understood.

Seungcheol joins Jihoon on the cold tiles – glad his boyfriend was rugged up in sweatpants and a large sweater.

“Why did you never tell me?” He asks softly.

Jihoon lets out a harsh laugh at that, the first sound Seungcheol had heard from him since he entered the kitchen.

“It’s not exactly something to brag about.”

Jihoon flinches as the sound of thunder rolls over the house, seeming to surround them. Seungcheol had never wanted to protect his boyfriend as much as he had in that moment. He wanted to wrap Jihoon up in a blanket and kiss his fears away. And so that’s what he did.

Seungcheol still had the duvet around him, so he opened his arms and pulled the boy against him – cocooning them both in the softness and warmth.

He rested his head on Jihoon’s shoulder and placed a light kiss to his neck, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand whenever thunder or lightening livened up the dark outside.

“Thank you,” Jihoon mumbled into Seungcheol’s chest, his voice sounding sleepy despite the loud storm that had yet to ease.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Seungcheol asks, willing to do anything he could to make this fear a little more bearable.

He pulled the duvet tighter around them as he tried to hide his shivering while waiting for Jihoon to answer.

“There is one thing…” Jihoon starts out slowly.

“Yes?”

“It’s called a sweater. You should wear one.”