Little fluffy snowflakes floated around, dusting the hood of the black SUV. A short winter’s day had become clouded over, threatening the highway just outside of Seoul with an imminent blanket of snow. The sun had long been lost behind hazy snow clouds.

“We should have left two hours ago,” Minho said, tapping the steering wheel. His chocolate hair fell in waves beside his sunglasses, framing his golden face, now filled with ire.

A look of reticence stole over the face of Minho’s companion. He moved to speak several times, but nothing came out.

Minho watched as Taemin’s eyes darted from the road to his hands and then the rear-view mirror.

“It’s not my fault,” he said, finally.

“Whose fault is it then?” Minho scoffed.

“Does it have to be someone’s fault?”

A bump in the road accompanied the silence that followed. The pair low-key arguing, at least by their standards. They were driving to Busan, a drive of four hours and change, to meet with the other three members of their group, who had left in the early morning for what management had deemed a weekend of rest and team building. Why they needed team building was beyond both Minho and Taemin, seeing as the group had been together for over ten years. Each kept busy juggling multiple facets of their careers, though it was true that the time the entire group spent together dwindled year on year. Perhaps that’s why there was a slight unease in the car that day, as though time and distance were chipping away at something.

“Has the weather forecast changed?” Minho tucked his sunglasses into the center console of the SUV.

As Taemin swiped away at his phone, he bit his lip, eyes darting to the road once again.

“Snow is predicted. Wait, where are we?”

“We’re barely out of Seoul.”

“It says there’s an alert for blizzard conditions.”

“In Seoul?”

“No, along our route.”

His voice was too placid for the news he was delivering, but this was characteristic of Taemin.

“Huh,” was all Minho returned.

“Don’t be mad. Weather is weather.”

“I’m not mad,” Minho barked. He had wanted to leave by ten am, which would have put the pair behind Jonghyun, Key, and Onew’s car by only two hours, but now it was noon hour, and Minho’s patience was shot. He didn’t know that it wasn’t Taemin’s fault they were behind schedule; Taemin had worked until the early hours of that very morning. Yet Minho, despite his forgiving heart, found himself less and less flexible as the years went by. All his agility for plans going awry was used up in work itself—tapings running long, do-overs, and the like. Personal time needed to be efficient.

“Hi, yeah, we’re on our way,” Taemin said into the phone. A pause. “He’s… alright. Middle-aged-man mode is on but what else is new?”

They looked at each other, and Taemin smirked. Purposeful teasing usually mellowed Minho.

“Did they arrive?” Minho asked.

“Key said they’re twenty minutes out. They’ll eat, and we can eat when we get there.”

The point of the weekend was togetherness. Eating divided wasn’t ideal, but it was only Friday. They had until Sunday afternoon to renew their friendships.

“I’m not middle-aged.”

“Then stop acting old,” Taemin said, the not-so-docile words coming out like soft-serve once again.

“I could have gone with the other three if you were going to be so late.”

Taemin’s eyes were wide, watching for Minho’s intent. He wasn’t about to tell Minho he barely managed three hours of sleep.

“On the way back, I can drive myself.”

“What, you’re going to be late even if we’re all together?” Incredulous, Minho laughed.

“I’ll find a way,” Taemin smirked once again. “You know this is the first time we’ve been alone in six years?”

Minho watched the road, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

“Are you keeping tabs on that sort of thing?”

“No, I just… maybe. Isn’t it weird?”

“We’re always at work. It’s not weird.”

“You haven’t even been to my new apartment. I’ve had it for a year.”

Minho looked sorry, with his brow furrowed and lips pouted.

“I guess I’ve been busy.”

An hour and forty minutes passed with the radio playing music from a time long before Minho and Taemin were born. It was the music even their parents found old, the music of grandparents and stories of precipitous times. Thick nostalgia for a time they couldn’t know blanketed the pair as their surroundings became ominously white.

Taemin leaned forward, looking vertically through the windshield. The snow was falling quickly now, threatening whiteout conditions.

“Do you think this will pass?”

Minho concentrated hard; the concern was plain on his face. Cars were slowing. There was even one in a ditch already. They’d driven directly into the blizzard.

“We might be able to drive through it, that is if we can keep driving.”

He decelerated, turning on the 4-wheel drive. In an SUV, they had a higher chance of driving through the snowstorm without incident, if they went unhurried and steady. And there wasn’t much choice; the traffic was already a cautious crawl.

Thirty minutes passed, and they’d barely moved a mile. Each kept craning their neck to see something out of the window that wasn’t a dangerous amount of white.

“I think we should take the next exit,” Taemin said.

Minho nodded. Neither knew how far the next exit could be, nor how long it might take to reach it. They fidgeted in their seats, turning the radio to an all-news station. Taemin sent a barrage of texts. Instead of receiving replies, his phone rang.

“What do you mean you’re in a blizzard?” Key said, audible through the speaker. The annoyance was clear in his voice.

“We’re on the highway but we’re going to get off. We can barely see in front of us.”

“So, you’re not coming?” A question laden with accusations.

“Babe, don’t give him a hard time.” That was Jonghyun.

“No one said we’re not coming!” Minho was a shade away from a raised voice.

“We just need to get off the highway and find another way to go,” Taemin offered.

“Just be safe. It’s fine if you don’t make it until tomorrow,” Onew said.

Key sighed. “Better to be safe. I just think you should have left when we did.”

Minho and Taemin rolled their eyes at one another.

“Well, we couldn’t, could we? Taemin wasn’t ready.”

Taemin, for his defense, said nothing.

“It’s fine. Just tell us when you’re off the highway and somewhere safe,” Jonghyun asked.

After the call ended, Taemin stared out the window.

“What, what is it?”

“Nothing. Wait, there’s the offramp,” Taemin said, pointing.

Minho steered them slowly along the curve of the ramp, leading to a dusty white and lonely road. Neither of them knew exactly where they were, but wherever it was, there was no cellphone reception. They didn’t recognize any of the place names. They drove along what seemed to be the main road for ten minutes before seeing something useful. It was a roadside motel.

The parking lot was already filled with a couple of inches of snow, but it was nothing the SUV couldn’t plow through. They parked and then sat in silence.

“What are we doing?” Taemin asked.

Minho was reading something on his phone that made his brows and eyes crinkle up. Noticing how he kept trying unsuccessfully to push a chocolate lock behind his ear made Taemin smile.

“I think we should get a room,” Minho blurted.

“What?”

Taemin’s hands began wringing one another red.

“This storm isn’t going to pass. They’re predicting three feet of snow from now until five am.”

*

The tiny restaurant attached to the motel had a wall of windows facing the deserted road it sat upon. A car or truck passed by once every ten minutes, and not even one had stopped at the motel. That was likely because they had snagged the last available room at the motel, and a sign reading “no vacancy” now flashed intermittently in a neon red at the side of the road. Taemin and Minho sat opposite one another at a modest table that had just enough room for their lunch of home-style cooking: japchae, haemul pajeon and tteokboki layered with cheese and ramyeon. And rice. Lots of steamed rice. It wasn’t in keeping with their healthy diets, but the options were limited.

Taemin picked at the last few fishcake morsels drowned in a red sea before him.

“Go on, finish it off,” Minho urged.

Setting his spoon down, Taemin shifted in his seat and then looked out the expansive windows. It had snowed another inch while they ate. He gripped the table, deep in thought.

“Hey, no one’s gonna be mad at you. Or us. It’s weather, right? Like you said?” Minho used his soft voice, one that could be patronizing if wielded incorrectly.

“I know.” Taemin tucked his hair behind his ear and then caught the hint of a smile on Minho’s face.

“Let’s get our stuff into the room,” Minho commanded as he stood, rubbing the back of his neck. It was only four pm.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. We’re stuck.”

Before they could leave, the grandmother who ran the restaurant sent them off with a couple of containers’ worth of food. They were likely to be the last customers of the day.

“Oh.” Taemin stood staring at the room. There were no chairs, only a TV on a chintzy stand and a tiny double bed. Minho the TV, but no channels had reception. It was all snow.

The two exchanged awkward glances. The room was mostly bed; no one could offer to sleep on the floor. It was hard for Taemin to maneuver past Minho with his duffel bag. He shoved it on the floor beside the TV cabinet and busied himself by fishing out a water bottle.

“This is…” Taemin started.

“Team building?”

They blushed as their awkwardness grew. The situation had been easier to manage in the car. What were four hours and lots of scenery between two people who were always insulated by the safety of the company of others? Now there were no distractions and no time limit—just a minuscule room and each other’s company.

Sitting on opposite ends of the bed, they fussed with the settings of their phones, hoping to get a signal.

“I should use the landline to call them. They’ll be worried,” Taemin said.

Minho nodded, moving his legs so Taemin could squeeze by to use the phone beside the TV.

“Are you safe?” Key asked.

“Yes, we found a place to stay for the night.”

“What? You didn’t turn around and head back home?” There was worry in Key’s voice.

“No, the weather is so severe, this was the safest choice. We’re lucky we found anywhere to stay.”

“Okay, well I hope we’ll see you early tomorrow. Jonghyun found a traditional onsen for us to try.”

“Listen, I’m sorry. I know if we had left when you did, this wouldn’t be happening. It’s all my fault.”

“Kid, don’t worry. We’ll see you tomorrow. It’s no big deal.”

Taemin put the phone down with a gentle click. When he turned around, Minho had a penetrating stare fixed on him. “What?”

“You apologized to him.”

Taemin and Minho’s communication had few settings. Lately, it was set to simmering conflict, and neither understood why.

“Do you want an apology?”

A knock at the door interrupted them. An elderly man with a plastic basket full of items stood in a parka two sizes too big for him.

“As a precaution, we’re handing out flashlights and water. If the power goes out, we do have a backup generator, but it might take some time for it to function.”

Taemin held the flashlight like it was treasure.

“Do you often lose power during storms?” Minho asked.

“It’s been known to happen. We’ll be digging out the parking lot from 6 am and would appreciate all the help we can get.”

“We’re happy to help,” Minho said. Taemin nodded in agreement.

Once the door was shut, Minho noticed Taemin sitting on the bed, holding the flashlight in his lap.

“You’re not scared of the power going out, are you?”

“No.”

“The cold?”

“No, it’s just—”

“What?”

“Can we pass this time in peace? I barely slept last night, and it would just be nice to make the most of a bad situation.”

“Barely slept?”

Minho’s phone pinged. He had service after all.

The conversation was dropped, and Minho swiped up and down on his phone before smiling to himself. Taemin sat, toggling between the home screens of his phone. There wasn’t even one game downloaded.

When Minho sat back down on the bed, Taemin couldn’t help but ask, “Who was that?”

“My ex.”

“Oh.”

Minho had more than one ex. There were several pretty women the text could have come from. But it was someone who still made Minho happy or at least amused.

As Minho picked up the TV remote again, Taemin laid his head down, wishing he would drift off to sleep.

*

Cold air and the slam of a door woke Taemin. The door to the motel room was banging against the frame, revealing a stunning darkness whenever it opened. After he swore and stood, Taemin grabbed for the doorknob.

“Hey, wait.”

The door was yanked in the other direction, and Taemin in his socked feet stumbled out into the snow. Minho stood with a shovel in his hand.

“What are you doing?” Taemin asked.

“Just giving the old man a hand. Someone needed to get their car out. Not sure how they’ll get back in if they wait too long.”

Minho patted all the snow off him before laying the shovel down and returning to the room. He locked the door behind him.

“Why was the door open?”

“Not sure. The wind unlatched it, maybe. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah