Tuesday morning, and the mist is thick over the campus grounds. The air is chilly enough to warrant proper winter gear, and Wonwoo tucks his chin deeper into his neat navy scarf as he stands alone at the shuttle stop. He’d take out his phone to check his email again, but his hands are too comfy nestled in his pockets to help out. Instead, he drifts over to the slapdash mishmash of stapled postings on the side of the station. There’s a missing pet posting that make him feel a little sad, billions of half-ripped For Rent slips fluttering in the breeze, plus the usual ads for CHEAP, AFFORDABLE TUTORING NOW. Smack in the middle is something more unique: someone has very badly drawn a picture of a bloody hand, a long red string trailing from it. Except the hand has green and white doodles on it, and there are words indicating it’s supposed to be a mitten. Ah, not so gory after all. Underneath, the artist has written in curly letters what looks like poetry, though the snow has smudged the lettering a bit, and Wonwoo squints to make out the words.

“Lost: My Other Half

I was lovingly knitted by my owner’s mother who will stop making me delicious food if she found out my other half eloped.

Not really, but she’d cry, and that will ruin my appetite : (

Last seen on a rainy December 4^th.

Seek out my owner,

I’ll be holding his hand everyday until my other half is found.

Thanks” followed by a string of hearts.

All in all, it’s a little adorable. Wonwoo finds himself smiling at it, and wiggles his own hands in front of him. Long fingers clad in wooly greyness wave back. He feels a little sorry for this poor soul out there with the singularly frozen fingers. He likes how his hands looks right now, toasty and warm in nice touchscreen gloves he saved up for last Christmas. The sounds of the approaching bus drive all thoughts of the posting away as he scrambles for his bus pass, the wool over his fingers making it difficult to grasp it, and he forgets all about strange posting for the rest of the week.  

It’s finally Friday, but Wonwoo needs to hand in this essay tonight, so he’s camping out at the coffee shop on campus. He’s been scribbling ideas for essay topics on his notebook for an hour now, his laptop idling, when he realizes he’s at 5% and running low fast. The cord is in his bag but somehow it’s become a long and entangled nest of snakes, dropping to the floor in his haste. As he bends down to attempt at wrangling it towards the outlet, he notices something red peeking out from between the table leg and the wall near the floor. He wouldn’t even have seen it, but the red stands out against his black bag. With a tug, it slips out: a red knitted glove, green reindeer dancing across the back, with white snowflakes across the bottom. Wonwoo regards it blankly, wondering what kind of person would wear something so festive. It’s a perfect match for the cutely horrid drawing he saw in the posting. Ah. He straightens up, the woolen treasure still in hand, and places it on the table in clear view of the door in case said someone happens to frequent this coffee shop too. Perhaps he’ll keep it with him like a strange good luck charm until the owner is found. Wonwoo hums to himself, wondering how else he can find the owner, before he realizes he almost forgot about his essay at the mercy of his dying laptop and plugs it in with a little grateful sigh. The night wears on as he gets into the groove of writing again. He can see the end of his essay approaching, and he’s glad for it: coffee can only do so much, and he finds himself staring at his own faint reflection in the window more and more often as exhaustion sets in. Outside, the rain has turned to flurries of snow. A flock of umbrellas is slowly gathering at the bus stop outside, clamoring to get out of the steadily worsening weather. A figure clad in a red puffy parka standing close to the window pushes his hood back to look skyward, and Wonwoo catches his breath: he’s beautiful, the soft boyish curves of his face framed in fur as he holds out a bare hand in wonder.  Small flakes of snow settle onto his hair, a black curtain scattered with flecks of white like the stars in the sky above. His newly exposed ears quickly turn red from the cold. His other hand is tucked deep into the pocket of his parka, his head almost buried in a long red and green scarf. The boy takes out both of his hands and blows on them to warm them up.

And there, on his right hand, is one obnoxious red glove, emblazoned with green reindeers.

Wonwoo panics, and raps on the glass for his attention. The boy sends a cursory glance towards the window, but turns back.

Hm. This won’t do. The bus could arrive at any moment, and then he’s lost his chance. But he can’t leave his things alone in the coffee shop and he doesn’t want to rush out into the cold…. But maybe…

The glove is surprisingly warming and soft as he slips his own hand in. The appendages are too short for his own long fingers, but it’ll do.

He raps again, and spreads his wool clad fingers against the glass.

Wonwoo watches the boy’s eyes eyes light up, before he slowly takes his hand out from his pocket and presses it against the pane. The matching gloves mirror one another.

The snow continues to fall between them as they stare at one another through the glass. The boy looks even more beautiful facing towards the Christmas lights edging the store window, his eyes sparkling.

A car drives by too fast, splashing in a roar through the puddle by the curb, and shatters them out of their daze. In a flash, the boy is at the door, yanking it open to let in a huge gust of cold air. He rushes towards Wonwoo and his arms squeeze tight around him. Wonwoo’s face is suddenly buried in folds and folds of the matching nauseatingly Christmas scarf.

“You found it! Hallelujah it’s a Christmas miracle~!”  

It turns out Seungkwan lives in the dorm next to Wonwoo’s, so he walks him there, the other boy chattering, his reunited gloves dancing in the air as he gesticulates wildly about his day.

**************************************

Christmas is around the corner again, and this time, Wonwoo has got his hands tucked into his pockets with a sheepish smile.

“You lost them? “

His boyfriend is noisy, fussing and scoffing like he hadn’t lost them himself last year.  

“Here, wear mine.”

Wonwoo cups the boy’s gloved hands in his own before the brunet can even slip one off, and looks earnestly into his eyes.

“But then you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, sweetheart.” The pink that tinges Seungkwan’s face is from more than the cold, he’s sure. “How about this for an idea?”

He slowly peels one glove off the small hands before him, before slipping them over his left hand. His right entangles itself with Seungkwan’s left, and Wonwoo gives the newly exposed fingers a little kiss before letting their twined hands fall between them.

“This way, I can keep your hand warm as a way of thanks,”

“I also take other forms of thank you payment, but this will do for now,” the boy replies. Wonwoo catches a glimpse of his cute smile before it’s tucked away behind the thick Christmas scarf.

Later, he finds his own pair smashed into the bottom of his bag under his laptop. The cozy feeling of Seungkwan’s hand tucked into his today comes to mind. The gloves lay innocently in his hands as he considers, before they are returned to their resting place: Wonwoo can already hear Seungkwan’s special and obnoxiously loud message tone calling for his attention, and the little smile that dances across his features at the thought of a reason to hold his hand every day warms his heart as he picks up the phone to reply.