The snow is thick and unyielding. It comes down in heavy sheets, blanketing the world around them in a white wilderness. Nothing is visible through the thin paned windows of their apartment. The old apartment complex is drafty and the windows are damp around the edges. Despite wearing a thick pair of pajamas, Helen is cold. Her belly is warm with alcohol but she’s long since finished off the bottle, her weary steps are uncoordinated and she shivers as she shuffles her way towards the small fireplace in their apartment - as it was the only source of heat in the apartment.

She puts her hands out in front of herself, fingers splayed out. The old fireplace is well worn and putting off just barely enough heat to keep the coldness at bay. Hoseok turns the page of the book he is reading behind her, she can hear the soft sound the turning of the page makes, almost feeling the small breeze the turning makes and heaves a sigh. Her sigh doesn’t go unnoticed and there’s movement behind her. There’s a soft sound of his sock-covered feet shuffling across the cold wood floors and then a hand creeps around the edge of her hip. He plants his palm there and she can feel the heat of him through her pajama top. Hoseok is a furnace in the cold apartment. She resists the urge to lean back into him, to soak away all his warmth with her back on his chest. Instead she feels him lean in and the press of his forehead against her shoulder. He mutters something in his mother tongue, Korean - which she can't understand, and Helens lips turn up into a half-smirk.

“It’s too cold to sleep.” She murmurs softly but Hoseok isn’t having any of it. With a firm grip on her waist he lifts her up. A breathy laugh leaves her lips as he pulls her past the small sitting area, towards the small mattress. They fall together, the mattress squeaks under their weight and Helen burrows under the thick duvet. Hoseok joins her and it doesn’t take her long to curl into him. Her cheek presses to his chest and her cold fingers sneak up under the edge of his pajama shirt. When her fingertips brush his skin, his stomach jumps, and she grins against the blanket as he mutters something in Korean again. She misses on what he says as she smooths her palms over his waist and plants them on the small of his back. After a moment he heaves a soft sigh and buries his face in her neck. Eventually her cold feet tuck themselves between his legs and Helen falls asleep, because her insomnia is no match for Hoseok.

Sometime during the night she shifts, her hands skim away from him and she rolls, her back to his chest. His hand grips the blanket and then he moves his hand down. His fingers dig into her pajama top and he shakes. He shakes so violently that it wakes up the small mechanic. Hoseoks grip on her is bruising. She pushes at his hand and he swats back, he lets out a sigh so soft it sounds like a whimper. Helen is awake now, head up and pulling herself out of his impossibly tight hold. The fire has long since died down, embers leaving nothing but a soft glow in the room but it’s enough that Helen can see the sweat sliding down Hoseoks forehead, matting his hair down. She can see his teeth gritting against the pillow and when she goes to shake him, he lashes out.

His arm sweeps upwards and catches her under the chin. The force is enough to knock her back to the edge of the mattress, “Hoseok!” She shouts his name. He is pale even in the dark light, his eyes are squeezed shut and it’s like he doesn’t even hear her at first. She in a sharp breath, reaching over the bed. Her hand shakes his shoulder, moving to his hands as he goes to lash out again. She grips onto his forearms and crawls over the blanket. She holds onto him, pressing her weight on to his chest. His name falls from her lips again, it’s more desperate this time, her accent heavy. It must do the trick because he’s awake before she can shout his name again.

“Helen!” He looks shocked to see her. Those deep brown eyes of his are wide and searching, brows knitting together out of confusion. His breathing is still rough, labored under her weight and she carefully lets go of his forearm and reaches up. Her fingertips brush away the hair that has matted down against his forehead. His skin is clammy and she watches him as he tries to push her hand away, “Helen stop.”

She doesn’t. She shakes her head down at him, keeps her knees on either side, rooted to the spot as her fingers down the edge of his soft cheek, “You just had a nightmare.” Helen says it so freely, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hoseok inhales under her, closing his eyes and shaking his head softly as if trying to shake the whole notion away. After a minute, she leans over and her forehead presses to his. Her nose brushes his own and he opens his eyes. Helen doesn’t look away or back up. She’s a force he has to reckon with, one he finds he’s unable to look away from. Her brown eyes keep him pinned.

“What,” She starts carefully, softly -- speaking so quietly she barely knows if he can hear her, “What were you dreaming about?”

The silence ticks on, a log in the fire finally falls snuffing out the embers and Hoseok leans up. His lips brush hers as he speaks, but he refrains from kissing her, “Losing you.”