There are splatters of pure white on the mountains in the distance and tiny, almost invisible snowflakes slowly floating down to paint the campus with a light sheen. The uniquely formed shapes and patterns melt quickly, but they are a beautiful sight nonetheless, drifting like bubbles through the breeze, whipping around the people walking around briskly. A chilled temperature accompanies these specks of prettiness and it is refreshing, a tranquil sensation perfectly designed to soothe overwhelmed university students. Jongin is one such student on this particular day and he is grateful for the snowflakes prickling his skin, leaving little wet patches behind as a reminder of their presence.

He has just handed in his first major assignment, which he spent hours and hours working on each day. Most of his morning was spent hunched over at his desk, fingers rapidly punching the keyboard of his laptop even though the screen piercing through darkness was excruciating for his sensitive eyes to concentrate on. He had at one point believed he wouldn’t finish it, but somehow, with multiple cups of bitter coffee and horribly heavy music filling his room, he managed to succeed in concluding it. It was an excess of ten thousand words and he hadn’t thought it to be written to the best of his ability. Now though, he isn’t concerned about it, just joyous that he no longer has to let his thoughts be consumed by a loud conscience nagging him to finish what is truly important.

His breath comes out in misted clouds in front of his face and is blown back at him, inhaled once more, and his gloves are holey and old, leaving his fingertips exposed to the nipping breeze. There is a red tint to his nose and he thinks he must look a little like Rudolph, but it is okay because most of the students brushing past are exactly the same, their cheeks bright and pink. His lips are cracked too and despite the continuous layers of cream he has been applying, they don’t seem to be improving. He is terribly conscious of this, worried that Kyungsoo might lean in to kiss him and feel disgusted by the peeling skin and taste of blood. A part of him believes that Kyungsoo might be into that kind of thing, but he doesn’t really want to find out.

He snaps out of such a mindset, shaking away images of Kyungsoo’s body, and notices that there is a cluster of students up ahead. They form a circle, trapping someone in the centre, whose voice is angelic and yet unbelievably powerful. There are cheers and a raucous beat of claps, accompanying the person’s pacifying tone and accentuating the beauty of it. Jongin, who is easily excited by the minor things in life, bounds over speedily and weaves his way through the crowd to obtain a place near the front.

His heart almost bursts from his chest as he sees Kyungsoo, standing there on his lonesome with his hands held out wide, belting out expressive lyrics flawlessly. Like the novels he reads, the philosophies he preaches, the words spilling from his lips are moving and emotive, with multiple underlying meanings. The people surrounding him seem to be touched by them. There are women with their palms pressed against their chests as they watch on in bewilderment, entranced by Kyungsoo’s smooth melody, and there are even men who smile broadly as they witness how effortlessly the skill of singing comes to him. Jongin stares with his mouth agape and realises that it is possible to like Kyungsoo even more than he had previously.

He is in awe, because Kyungsoo is amazing and beautiful and talented. His lips are so enticing and the way his expressions match the lyrics makes him so extraordinarily remarkable, like an experienced actor who has mastered his emotions. Even his fingers are alluring. The way they fiddle with the hem of his oversized knitted sweater, the way the tips are a faint pink just like the colouring of his plump lips, makes Jongin want to push forward and hold them in his own, warming them tenderly.

This sight, the sound, smell and sensation of it, is a spiritual experience that Jongin’s assigned novel never could have described or predicted. It is something new that deserves its own chapter, but there are no words that could possibly do it any justice. It is too perfect, too breathtakingly stunning, that Jongin can hardly bare to stand still. This is why he is relieved that Kyungsoo wraps up relatively fast.

The crowd dissipates promptly and soon, it is just Kyungsoo and Jongin huddled together. They don’t need to say anything to one another. The glint of admiration in Jongin’s eyes - the tenderness swimming around and the words spoken through their wavering – is enough for Kyungsoo to know that he has been appreciated, seen by someone who cares far more than they should.

Jongin drapes an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulder tensely. He relaxes when his gesture is not rejected, but embraced, Kyungsoo’s arm wrapping around his waist in return. They mould together like matching jigsaw pieces, their bodies melting into one as they protect each other from the cold. It feels right to hold Kyungsoo, to grasp onto his sweater as though it is a lifeline. Jongin does not want to let go, wishing that they could be knitted together like this forever and that his upcoming class did not exist as a barrier between them.

‘How long have you got left until your lecture?’ Kyungsoo asks, having to shout to be heard over the piercing wind.

Jongin stoops in close so that he doesn’t have to raise his voice. ‘I have a couple of hours to spare. Why?’

‘I’m hungry,’ Kyungsoo responds, twisting to walk backwards so that he can stare up into Jongin’s eyes, ‘and I think you should take me out on a date.’

Jongin has never been on a date before and he is ecstatic that he has the chance to share such an experience with the man whose lips make his heart flutter.

The café is cute and full of alacrity. There are tables of all shapes and sizes constructed of randomly selected woods scattered around, some decorated with towering candles and others with a tall vase of fresh hand-picked flowers. The walls are completely covered in posters of classic films, most from the 1980’s, as well as photographs of celebrities who have visited over the years. Each member of the staff is friendly and welcoming, never ceasing to smile and to ensure that their customers are being treated satisfactorily. The man serving Jongin and Kyungsoo, who sit at a hexagonal table with a pot of lilies, is a university student named Junmyeon. He has fair skin and neatly parted hair, which he wears off his face and with a slight ruffle to style it. With a shining grin full of straight pearly whites, he makes the two men feel right at home.

Jongin thinks that the way Kyungsoo’s round glasses fog up whenever he takes a sip of his tea is adorable. He wants to reach across and swipe the mist away, but watching Kyungsoo groan inwardly as he tries to clean it with his shirt is so childish and appealing that he forces himself to sit still. These little actions, the small things like the way Kyungsoo scrunches his nose when he is in deep thought or how he runs fingers through his hair when he is trying to impress someone, are what Jongin in. He loves these minor elements, loves the way that they make Kyungsoo who he is and loves the way that they can tug his lips into a smile even when his mind is obscured by thoughts that irritate him. He is so glad to be sitting here and observing such things.

‘What are your parents like?’ Kyungsoo asks suddenly, swirling a finger through his tea.

Jongin scratches his chin in thought. ‘They’re good people and they taught me everything I know. They just got a little lost, I suppose.’

‘Do you mind elaborating?’

‘One day we were all happy and the next we weren’t. My dad wrote poetry at a professional level and my mum tried desperately to do the same, but her works went unnoticed and she let it get to her,’ Jongin explains softly, eyes trained