The wood breaks

into life’s splinters;

Spring’s child but

I bloomed in winter.

Myungsoo struggles a bit, he puts up a small, reluctant resistance, before drowning in Sungjong’s eyes.

Even though he speaks less, he has never experienced a situation where he was actually tongue-tied before. But now, in front of Sungjong, he can’t find the right words and when he does, he stumbles over it and gives up speaking altogether. But Sungjong talks on and Myungsoo’s shy smile conveys much more than his stutters. When Sungjong gives it a rest and simply stares at Myungsoo, he gladly returns the favor. It’s funny how when they just look at each other, he feels the least awkward. They laugh at the same time. Sungjong then starts to squirm. Myungsoo wants to try something out too but he isn’t sure that Sungjong won’t question the propriety of such action. But what’s life without a few risks. Deep down inside, he knows it isn’t a risk. And so he raises his arm and props his elbow on the table, palm facing towards Sungjong, who hesitates for a fraction of a second before copying him. Just like before, they press their palms against each other, this time without the sheet of glass between them. Their skins touch and when he looks Sungjong in the eye, he knows he feels it too.

Sungjong can’t help but feel satisfied when he sees the warmth grow in Myungsoo’s eyes as their hands touch.

As he slides his fingers into the spaces between Myungsoo’s fingers, Sungjong can’t stop thinking how this won’t have been possible if Myungsoo hadn’t been driven into the café due to bitter cold – maybe there is nothing bad about winter at all.

Sungjong doesn’t know what he’s drinking. It tastes delicious – Myungsoo ordered it. He wonders if it really is the drink or if it’s the season. He wonders if it’s the person, or the warmth in his eyes. He wonders if it’s only he who has changed or has it happened to the person sitting in front of him as well, or is it the world at large. He wonders if it’s a dream – if it is, he doesn’t want it to end. But the date ends, yes, he is now brave enough to use the word in his head. They step out into a chilly evening - soft snowflakes making their homes on the pavement. Snowflakes importantly gather on them, some of which is brushed off, the others are left to do as they please. Myungsoo holds out his cell phone – he has completely forgotten why they were supposed to meet in the first place. Sungjong reaches out for his scarf too but Myungsoo shakes his head. He says he will keep it – Sungjong doesn’t argue. He thinks it smells like lemongrass and coffee – but maybe Myungsoo finds it more fragrant than that. Sungjong starts towards his house, but not before he enamors Myungsoo with a smile and a wave. He ignores the bubbly feeling in his stomach as Myungsoo smiles back.

Myungsoo watches the white snow on Sungjong’s black hair, his black shirt, contrasting his black eyes, he sees a portion of it settle down on his nape – Myungsoo reasons that maybe winter is not that bad after all.