On the clear winter night

the stars glitter when the sun retreats;

And love is quietly reassured with a kiss,

for together we are complete.

Myungsoo doesn’t like winter.

He hates the snow, which is whiter than his pale skin. The snowflakes that plague the streets and the trees and every other place Myungsoo settles his eyes on are like feathers shed by a disgraced angel from heaven. He finds no beauty in the dreariness, no poetry in the velvety paleness. He detests how the whiteness of the snowflakes stands in stark comparison with his black shirt, his black hair, his black eyes. He abhors the idea of the soft flakes gathering at the back of his neck and tickling his skin.

For the exact same reasons, Sungjong loves winter.

Even though Sungjong loves winter, there are a few things he wishes he could change about it.

Like the dry, lifeless trees, bare and desolate. And the bone-biting cold that stings. He dislikes the fact that the cold is sometimes so excruciating that it drives people inside shelters so that they cannot stand outside and enjoy the breathtaking scenery, wrapped in white. He associates winter with solitude, and he dislikes that as well.

For the exact same reasons, Myungsoo thinks winter isn’t all bad.