Onew slunk down to the train station. Flakes of snow covered his hair as he took step after step along the sidewalk. People on either side of him and the street were bustling about, going to and from work, some heading home to dinner, some starting shifts that would bring them to the early hours of the morning. A countless number of them would be greeted by bright faces of children and partners. And where was he going? Well… He was going home…

            Not to the place with the bed he slept in every night. The one where he had the pillows engraved with the shape of his head and the mattress to match. Not to the place where he had a mother and father sitting in the kitchen on either side of the table, refusing to look at each other as they all ate in a deadly silence. That wasn’t home. There was no warmth, no bright smiles to greet him or to reassure him every time he slipped on the ice in the driveway.

            The house keeper couldn’t even be considered family. She’d been with him since birth but she didn’t speak a word of Korean. She hadn’t even tried to speak to Onew so she was as good as useless as far as he was concerned.

            More snow started falling down. It coated his hair, floated to his shoulders where it clung to the material of his trench coat. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, hoping to gain some warmth in the tip of his numbing fingers. When the news had warned that a snow storm was coming he thought he’d at least have a few hours before it hit… Unfortunately, the weather was as unpredictable as his mood. It had started snowing not ten minutes after he’d left his house.

            A sigh blew out in a puff of white that froze in the air and remained suspended for a few moments. Onew reached out and dragged his fingers through it, scrambling the particles of his breath and erasing the blob from the space in front of his face. He furrowed his brows and blew out another breath, the heat warming his fingers for two milliseconds before it froze again like an ice encasement on his hand.

            The train whistle blew. He saw it coming in the distance. It started off as a dot of black on the tracks and then it was in his face. Amongst the three others that were here on the platform he was the only one who saw its true beauty. Or so he thought anyway. The tunnel of smoke that billowed out the top wasn’t just pollution; the churning wheels weren’t just tools of transportation. Its silver-grey body was more than a carton to haul people to and fro their destinations. It had no specific beauty, but it was beautiful.

            He boarded it silently, his bag thudding lightly against his back when he stepped in. It wasn’t rush hour. There were many seats available. He chose the one by the window so he could watch the urban scenery rush by him. There’d only be two stations worth, but it was nice to take a sip from the cup of juice he couldn’t really have.

            By the time Onew disembarked, he was the sole passenger to the train. His cabin was empty, and so was the platform. Snow was coming down in waves. He clutched the straps of his pack tighter and trudged through the harsh winds and bitter cold. Every time he felt like it was getting too cold for him to manage he reminded himself that he was going home and it didn’t seem so bad.

            Finally, it was there. In all its glory, the big, old building where he had first glimpsed happiness. Not just the fake smile, forged happiness that he hadn’t known to be acting out in all his short years of living, but the pure kind. Covered head to toe in a thick layer of snow he pushed open the doors, surprised that they hadn’t closed yet. Maybe the owner had had an inkling that he would be making another appearance that night. It was a good call, considering the snow storm and everything. And Onew vaguely remarked that maybe the landlord’s son had pulled the ropes in his favour as well to keep the place open late.

            Whatever the case, he wasn’t about to go around and contradict the choice. He walked through another set of doors to the arena where a less brutal cold attacked him. Onew breathed in the cold air, letting it burn his lungs as he sat on the bench. Carefully, he took out his brand new skates from their bag that he transported them in when coming to this place. He eased them onto his feet, going through the motions taught to him by the owner’s son on how to tie them perfectly.

            There, he approved with a nod, staring blankly at his skates.

            Using the boards as support, he heaved himself up, still a bit wobbly. Practice makes perfect, though…

            That was when he saw him. He was skating circles round the rink, doing moves with such ease that Onew was convinced he’d been born skating. One foot moved behind the other, gliding easily in a curve and then the toe dug into the ice, flying him up into a spin that he landed so gracefully. Awe fluttered in the boy’s chest while he watched the other dance on skates. There wasn’t a song to follow but he knew that he would be humming one to himself as he tried out different actions. A sharp sound resounded throughout the large room when he dug his toe into the ice again, going for a riskier move that he knew him to be practicing.

            Unfortunately this time he didn’t nail his landing, instead landing on his bottom with a painful sounding thud.

            “Minho!” Onew shouted, worried that he may be hurt.

            But as he slid on his bottom across the freshly glazed ice he could hear his bubbly, vivacious laughter. It replaced the worried creases on Onew’s face with a relaxed expression, a smile forming on his lips. He levered himself onto the ice clumsily, gripping the boards till he reached the approximate area the other was in and then slowly, very, very slowly, he took shuffling steps/glides towards Minho.

            “You idiot,” he teased, now about a foot away from him.

            “Hey, practice makes perfect,” Minho shot, getting up and wiping ice shards off his bottom. His eyes darted down to Onew’s skates, that he seemed to finally realize were on his feet. “You finally got your skates tied on your own,” he noted, smiling broadly to his friend.

            Onew’s smile grew. The warmth spread from his fingers to his chests and rung small bells that tingled in his mind. “Well… You know,” he said, putting one hand to touch his chapped lips. “Practice makes perfect…”