Pairing: Jikook
Warnings: mildly angsty; very vague hinting at the ytimes
Word Count: 967

The first time they meet, properly meet, it's one of those lonely party nights, when no amount of liquor can quite fill the empty spots in their hearts. They're open doors, both of them; eyes too bright in the dimmed lights, and it's winter, really winter. 

They don't talk much beyond the endless thrumming of rain against the windows; a silent sharing of drinks, then bottles, as everyone else either gets lucky or passes out trying.
There's no sense to it, but there hardly ever is, and they can choose to either drown in silence together or have it suffocate them in the heavy bass coming from downstairs. 

There is no choice.

They sit there, out of the open windows and almost on the roof but not quite, looking at the cold blue sky that's full of stars that night, and they're collecting the twinkling lights in each other's eyes; a vain attempt to warm themselves.

They don't need to talk when they finally collide, breaths heavy and hands cold on scorching skin, and both of them know that this isn't what they're looking for, but neither one wants to admit, too caught up in the warmth between their bodies, perhaps in the illusion of warming-up hearts.

They collapse against each other and there's no sound but their laborious breathing, nothing but the gust of wind coming through the still-open windows, howling for something it can never comprehend.

The winter gets colder and so do they, falling all over each other when they'd always sworn last times and never agains. It seems easy enough, stopping this whole arrangement and just calling it a mistake, but none of them can bear to say the words, not with the other nestled against him; bodies trembling, but minds upholding a memory, a semblance of warmth that's almost enough.

And Jungkook swears he feels his wings unfold more and more with every shaky breath on freezing skin, but Jimin is holding onto him like he's a lifeline and he knows for sure he could never fly away from the snow that has settled over his heart, buried his feelings, because the older deserves so much more than this, than him, but still he's selfish enough to deny him that and claim perfection to himself.

They drift apart, because intentions are meant to be left unsaid; they drift further in time with the birds beginning to sing in the trees, silent whispers to a melody long forgotten.

It isn't something that happens consciously, but this kind of thing never does, so they sit in silence until the words hang heavy between them, but they never argue, because god forbid a spark would light the space between their bodies and melt away their carefully crafted barriers; walls made of ice so thin, one could only notice by getting too close.