Xiumin puffed out a breath and watched as it condensed into the cold air. It was cold in China, and the members had to put up with it. Tucked comfortably in long coats and cosy sweaters, Chen and Xiumin were on one of their escapades.

The duo had their heads trapped in knitted beanies and their ears covered in matching earmuffs just for the sake of it. Despite the fact they weren’t exactly freezing their heads off, they enjoyed the little coverage the earmuffs provided, which came with minimal discomfort.

It was one of the things they agreed on silently.

Being Korean members in the Mandarin counterpart of Exo did kind of make life tough for the two. Minseok and Jongdae were both given names that particularly fit into the Chinese stage and made them appear more Chinese and less Korean. This was proven by how both could easily camouflage and pull off as a Chinese member, as long as their awkwardly slurred Chinese was not put to test.  

This was another thing that both had quietly accepted into their lives.

It was tough, inevitably, for the two Chinese-illiterates to learn a single phrase of Chinese. They would sit, side by side, with their personal notebooks laid in front of them as they murmured Chinese words with effort to achieve the perfect pronunciation.

With some accent of course.

Silence engulfed them for a few seconds and even though Chen was known to be rather noisy and chatty, the Jongdae Minseok knew needed several calming moments like these.

“It’s cold huh.” Minseok shuffled slightly at the question, adjusting his earmuffs before picking up his beverage and taking a small sip.

“Mhm.”

They were wrapped in another comforting silence before Jongdae spoke up again.

“Let’s practice some Chinese together!” His usual curved and quirky smile lit up his face, but the shadows lining his eyes were an indication that Jongdae was tired. Minseok kept up with him and flashed a small smirk.

“Sure. I’ll start.”

And they fell into a small competition, without any competing whatsoever, but a rather warm and friendly exchange of heavily accented Chinese gibberish.

“You’re good, Xiumin hyung.”

“So are you, Chen.”

Their eyes met for a brief second, and Minseok couldn’t help but add, his line of sight dropping down, fingers tapping against the sides of his styrofoam cup, “Does Jongdae enjoy learning Mandarin for Chen?”

Jongdae's gaze softened, as a tender smile found its way to his lips, and leaned back into his seat, sighing as he took a gulp from his cup of hot chocolate.

“Not when he doesn’t get to learn together with Minseok.”

And they shared another meaningful glance, tinkering laughter, and playful shoving.

Just like how Jongdae knew Minseok; Minseok knew Jongdae just as well.