Though lanky, his shoulders were broad under a navy button-down and red-and-navy raglan tee, and his thighs filled out his tight ripped acid washed jeans quite nicely. As if he sensed your attention, his gaze cut to yours, and to your utter mortification, he winked.  Whipping back toward your drink, you hunched your shoulders, and dropped your head, hiding your face behind the curtain of your hair. A soft, rich, husky voice cut through the murmurs of the leftover crowd, and you found yourself peeking over your shoulder to see it was the man, singing quietly as he continued to study the patrons.  Shaking your head as if to rid yourself of a particularly foolish thought, you turned back to your plate of cut fruit, deciding to ignore the handsome singer.

It didn’t work.

Time after time, your gaze was drawn to him throughout the night.  He wandered through the crowd, impossible to miss, talking charmingly to first one woman, then another.  It struck you all of a sudden, out of nowhere.  You couldn’t say how you knew what you knew, but you knew.  What he was.  What he was doing.  

Your face flamed.

At one point, as he walked by, taking a call, you heard a snippet of his conversation as he passed, something about an entire building being without heat, and asking what he was supposed to do for the night.  Before you could hear any more, however, he had already passed from earshot, and you were left once more to your own mental devices.

As the night progressed and more people left, the man’s expression grew even harder, tighter, though his mouth retained an almost boyish pout, as if it alone held the last vestiges of his bygone innocence.  Meanwhile, you sat there.  You sat there and you watched him.  You watched him, and you drank.  You drank your bokbunja, your mashilju, and your flower wine...and you thought about it.  You thought about the wouldn’t it be nice.  The what if.  The why not?  Finishing your last glass of apricot wine, you signaled for the unsettlingly charming bartender, and settled your tab and tip.

“Are you going to be okay going home?” he asked softly, his deep voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket.  “Would you like for me to call a cab for you?”

“No, thank you, I live a few blocks away,” you answered, slipping into your coat, and gathering your scarf while side eyeing the man of the night, who by now had slumped down in front of the jukebox.  The bartender followed your line of sight, and for a split second, you saw his expression change from concern to judgement, before settling into a blank mask of neutrality.  

Ignoring the chill of the bartender’s disapproval against your back, you walked toward the man with the golden hair.  At some point in the night, he had folded back his sleeves, as if the effort of plying his wares had become too much.  As soon as you took the first step toward him, he clocked you, watching defiantly as you approached.  With your first step you were confident of your decision.  By the next step you were unsure, and as you drew closer to look down at him, your motivation changed.  “You look cold.”  Surprise rippled through his tough expression before the defiant gaze returned as if it had never left.  Crouching, you took your scarf and wrapped it around his neck and shoulders.  “What’s your name?”

“What do you want it to be?”  His speaking voice was much like his singing voice--a mid-range, pleasantly husky tenor that reminded you of toasty winter nights spent on your grandparent’s ondol.

“Mm… Whatever your mother gave you.”

His eyes softened for a moment--the first time you had seen them do so all night--before he hid them with darkened lids, his mouth briefly turning down as he quietly answered.  “Baekhyun.”

“Well, Baekhyunsshi… Would you like to come home with me?”

***

You could feel the heat of Baekhyun’s breath contrasting against the icy drip of late-winter rain that slid down the back of your neck as you tried to get your fingers to stop trembling long enough to fit your key into the lock by the scant illumination from a nearby street light.  Wordlessly he took over, slipping long, freezing fingers around your own, and unlocking your door.  Inside wasn’t much warmer, as you left off the heat while you were gone during the day, to conserve electricity.  

Cutting on the lights, you turned to find him shivering in your entryway, his pale hair plastered to his head, the scarf that you had given him little protection against the driving precipitation.  At least your coat had protected you against the majority of the rain, but he had no such luck, apparently not having brought anything to protect him from the elements.  “You need a shower,” you fussed, peeling off the soggy scarf, and tossing it over the hat rack.  As soon as he slipped off his shoes, you took him by the sleeve, tugging lightly as you led him through the maze of furniture and your halmeoni’s old piano to the bathroom, and turned up the thermostat.  “You can use whatever you see.  Washcloths and towels are in the closet behind the door.  Let me know if you need anything.”  With that you left him, sodden and silent, slowly dripping onto the drain in the bathroom floor.  

Without turning on the lights, you went into your room, peeling off your wet coat, drying your hair, and changing into a well-worn pair of comfortable sweats and a hoodie before heading to the hall closet and pulling out a few spare comforters.  Carrying the fluffy pile to the living room, you another space heater and set to making up the couch.  

Let it never be said that a guest went cold in your home during the night.

Straightening, you jumped as you bumped into something warm and alive.  Yelping in alarm, you spun to find a serious-looking Baekhyun gazing down at you curiously.  Freshly showered he stood there, his pale, ruffled towel-dried hair making him look like a particularly handsome species of dandelion.  Without the kohl, his eyes had lost much of their sharpness, and he looked warmer, softer, somehow.  Eyes drifting downward, you frowned in dismay when you saw the towel draped discomfitingly low around his hips. “I’m sorry--I didn’t think--give me a moment.”

Returning to your room, you found an old pair of your harabeoji's pajamas. Bringing them to Baekhyun, you handed them to him while desperately trying not to look at the inviting expanse of pale gold chest.  He was silent for a moment, before his hand reached for the tie of his towel.  Jolting in dismay, you scurried toward your room.  “Okay, well, I hope you have a good night, sleep well, please don’t rob me in my sleep; I’m poor!”

Slamming your bedroom door shut, you leaned against it, clutching your chest, panting as your heart beat frantically. Turning, you leaned your ear against the door, trying to figure out what he was doing while trying not to imagine how he might look doing it.  Finally, the soft rustling of cloth died down, and silence rang through the night.  Quietly, you turned the lock on your bedroom door before silently creeping into bed, cutting on your heating pad, and snuggling under the covers.  

You hoped that you hadn’t just done something monumentally stupid.

***

The next morning, you put your ear to your door and listened carefully.

Nothing.

Painstakingly unlocking the bolt, you cautiously cracked the door and peeped outside.  Everything appeared to be in order.  Nothing broken, or out of place.  Tiptoeing to the couch, you peeked over the back to see Baekhyun curled on his side, the couch pillows tucked around his body, and a comforter pulled up to his nose. You had to shove your fist against your mouth to keep from cooing. With the eyeliner washed away, his hair rumpled, his features relaxed, and his pink mouth soft with sleep, he looked positively--

Angelic.

His cheeks were thinner than you considered to be healthy, but his sweet little potato of a nose sat adorably over his pouting mouth, and the soft wispy black of his eyelashes caressed the warm brown skin beneath, and oh! You had never wanted to a man’s hair more in your life. Not wanting to be a creeper, you quietly crept into the kitchen to start breakfast, thankful that it was the weekend.  Opening the refrigerator, you peered inside, calculating the fastest way to get the largest, most filling spread on the table.  After setting up several small pots to simultaneously heat leftover samgyetang, dakgalbi, and gamja jorim, you tiptoed through the living room to take a quick bathroom break to freshen up, and put his clothes in the wash to remove the rain smell.  Slipping silently back into the living room, you were startled to see him awake and sitting up, the fluffy comforter surrounding his head like a renaissance halo, as he sleepily glared at you over the back of the sofa. “Oh.  Did I wake you?  Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he murmured, still not looking totally awake.

“There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer under the bathroom sink. I’ll be in...the kitchen,” you said, before awkwardly sidling away.  As you were mincing vegetables for the gyeran mari, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist.  Jumping in shock, you spun, only to feel a warm mouth descend on your own.  Stiffening, you tightly pressed your lips together, as you pulled away in dismay.  “Please don’t hurt me!”

Baekhyun looked down at you in bewilderment.  “Hurt you?  I would never--I thought that’s what you wanted!”

“Oh.  No.  I’m sorry, but…” you pushed at his chest, and tried not to think about the expanse of firm, warm muscle that moved under your palms, “I don’t...want...that…”

His arms dropped then, confusion clouding his face as his eyes searched yours.  “Then...why did you invite me home?”

Thinking back, you shrugged.  “You looked cold.”

Last night.

“You look cold.  Would you like to come home with me?”

“I look cold, hm?”  He chuckled ruefully, then sat forward getting into your space.  “Are you going to warm me up?”

Trying to back away without seeming obvious about it, you grinned nervously.  “Look, it’s late, and you’re still here, so I figure that you don’t want to go wherever you have to go.  I just blew my hiring bonus on drinks, but I can offer you a warm place for the night.  It’s up to you,” you stood and smiled down at him.  “No pressure.”

Baekhyun’s eyes ran thoughtfully down your body, but it didn’t feel lecherous.  More like...he was sizing you up.  Making decisions.  You must have passed inspection, because his head lolled lazily against his shoulder as he looked back up, giving you a slow half grin.  “Well, you know…  Lead the way.”  With a sudden, economical burst of movement he was up and, no, not quite towering over you, but you did have to look up to meet his eyes.  This seemed to reassure him, and he rolled his shoulders a bit, as he looked down at you.  

A frisson of unease skittered down your tipsy spine, but then again, you had never heard of a homicidal e, so statistically, the likelihood of him murdering you was slim.

Heh.  Yeah.  Slim was super comforting.  

“I’ll wait for you while you get your coat,” you said, taking a step back, outside of the range of the heat of his body.  “Do you need to settle your tab?”

“Nah, I don’t drink.  No sense in burning my earnings before I make them.  And I don’t have a coat.”

“Oh.  Well,” you glanced outside to see steady rain pattering just past the frosted glass.  “I wish I had gloves for you.  I guess that the scarf will have to do.”

“It’s a nice big scarf,” he said.  “I don’t recall seeing any this size these days.”

“I made it.”

“You made this?!” he said, his voice rising in incredulity.

“Mm.  I work in a call center for LG U+, and a lot of people just like to talk about irrelevant things.  So, while they’re talking, I knit.  I crochet.  Just something to do with my hands, and keep me from wanting to snap at them for wasting time.”

Lifting a tentative hand, he gently caressed the soft grey lambswool.  “It’s nice.”

You smiled.  “Thanks.  By the way, my name is--”

Present

Baekhyun laughed dubiously.  “I looked cold?  I’m sure that you’ve seen a lot of cold people in your life.”

“I have,” you agreed, nodding thoughtfully.  

“See?  So...why?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t have an answer for you, I’m sorry.  I could say, ‘Oh, maybe I was drunk,’ but I wasn’t.  I knew what I was doing.  I remember.”

“So...what now?  I can just...leave?”

You shrugged.  “If you want.  I was going to feed you first.  But it’s up to you.  I didn’t kidnap you.”  You looked over his slender, but sturdy form.  “I don’t think that I could keep you, even if I wanted to.”

He eyed you consideringly before his gaze cut to the pans bubbling merrily on the stove, the rice cooker on warm, the chopped vegetables and pile of uncracked eggs.  A small growl broke the morning silence.  He shrugged nonchalantly.  “What’s for breakfast?”

***

“May I buy you a coat?”

“What?!”  Baekhyun beat his chest as he tried to swallow the cheekful of spicy chicken that was currently trying to choke him.  

You waited patiently as he took a long, bracing drag of water before reengaging.  “A coat.  May I buy one for you?”

“Why would you buy me a coat?!”

“You said that you didn’t have one.”

“So?”

“So it’s almost winter.  If you don’t have one, then you need one.”

“And why would you buy it for me?”  Carefully setting down his chopsticks, he fixed you with a hard look.  “What’s the catch?”

“Warmth.”

“Why?”

You shrugged.  “Why anything?  Why did I bring you home?  Why did I make you breakfast?  Why did you sleep here?  Why did you stop when I asked you?  I don’t know why.  Who cares why?  I don’t have any ulterior motives.  I just want to do it.  Why can’t I?”  Tilting your head, you examined his body language, then softened your voice.  “If you don’t want to, then I understand.  It’s fine.  I had to ask--”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.  You can...buy me a coat.”

“Okay.  Thank you.  Now,” you shifted awkwardly in your chair, “I do have to let you know--well, you can probably tell that I can’t afford anything expensive.  If you don’t mind, we can go to the thrift store after this--”

“That’s fine.  Perfect, actually.”

“Oh?  Why perfect?”

He frowned, picking up his chopsticks, a thoughtful expression clouding his face.  “Do you want to know why...I don’t have a coat?”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“Someone stole it.  There’s no point in having anything nice in my line of work, where I live.  It always gets stolen.”

A flash of anger bubbled up your stomach like acid, and you had to clear your throat, take several calming gulps of water.  You surreptitiously watched him over the rim of your glass as you drank, then carefully put it down.  “I hope that whoever stole your coat got scabies.”

He barked a laugh.  “And lice.”

“And bed bugs.”

This time, his laugh was more lighthearted.  “Remind me to never piss you off.”  Suddenly he froze, as if realizing what that statement implied.  

Wanting to put him back at ease, you shook your head.  “Nah.  I’m all talk, no trousers.  I couldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Kyaaa...I hope they catch those, too.”

“Of course!” Chuckling, he reached forward to grab another piece of dak galbi. “Aigoo, don’t just eat meat.  Eat the banchan, too.”  You gestured to everything on the table.  “Eat it all!”  The look he fixed you with was full of such arch humour that you snorted.  “Don’t misunderstand.  I don’t care about your health.  I just don’t want to have to put away leftovers.”

“Oh, well, if I’m helping you, then…”

You grinned at each other then, and you watched in satisfaction as he ate an exaggerated amount of putbaechu doenjang muchim.  He took a large scoop of rice and, without pausing to think too deeply about it, you leaned over and put a healthy strip of chicken on his spoon.

He eyed you over the small mountain of food.  “Do you always just do whatever you want?”

“Within reason.  Why not?”  You eyed him.  “Am I making you uncomfortable?”  You leaned back, “Don’t worry.  I won’t do it again.”

“No!  I don’t...mind.”  With that, he stuffed the spoon in his mouth, and chewed, looking down at his bowl.

You pretended not to see his small smile.  

***

“Alright, choose what you want.”

Baekhyun looked at you, his brows arched in surprise.  “I get to choose?”

“You’re going to be the one wearing it.  Why on earth would I choose?  Just, try to keep it under 50,000 won, please.”

“Please,” he echoed softly, his eyes drifting over the racks of clothing.  

“I’ll wander around.  Just come find me when you’re ready.”  You started off, but were stopped by his hand on your sleeve.  

“Maybe…” he started. You looked back at him expectantly. “Maybe...it would be better...if I had your number.  So I don’t lose you...” he trailed off.

“Oh…”

His face flushed.  “Please don’t misunderstand me--I’m not trying--I’m not going to--I won’t become burdensome.  It’s just for today.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Why not?  I can always just block you if you become obsessed with me,” you teased, unlocking your phone and handing it to him.  “Just call yourself.” He did so, a small smile curving his lips as he saw your number pop up on his screen.  Hanging up, he handed your phone back, and slipped his phone into his pocket.  You wandered off, looking through all of the interesting things, but the entire time, you could feel eyes on your back.  Checking your suspicions, you turned a few times, only to quickly clock Baekhyun watching you whenever you looked up.  Smiling ruefully, you continued to poke and prod anything that you found remotely interesting, thinking, I guess that he didn’t need my number after all.

Finally, he popped up by your side, shyly holding out a long black padded coat with a hood.  “Is this okay?”

“How much is it?”

“30,000 won.”

“Oh, is that all?  Why don’t you get some gloves too, then?”

He fidgeted.  “No, that’s okay.”

“Why not?”

“This is enough.  I don’t want...I don’t want you to think that...that I’m trying to take advantage of you.”

“How could you be taking advantage of me if I’m the one offering?”

“I know...but still…”

You were silent for a moment, watching him examine something fascinating on the floor.  “Alright,” you said quietly.  “Ah, that’s right.  I need this.”  You picked up the first thing your hand touched--a heavy stone jeolgu and gongi.  “Let’s go.”

You paid and left, Baekhyun immediately slipping into the coat.  “Here,” he said, handing you your scarf.  

“No, keep it,” you answered, waving it away.  “Like I said, I make them while frustrated at work, so, like...I make them all the time.  I’ll probably have made another one by Tuesday.”

“I don’t know,” he said uncertainly, the scarf.

“I give them away all the time, honestly.  And if it gets stolen, then…”  Your stomach fluttered at what you were about to say, but you forged ahead.  “Just call me.  I’ll give you another one.”  Baekhyun was silent, but then, without saying a word, his hand slipped over yours, and he took the bag from your hand.  You looked up at him.  “Why?”

He shrugged.  “It’s heavy.”

“I bought it, I can carry it.”  You reached for it only for Baekhyun to lift it above your head and hiss warningly at you.  “Well!” you said in mock offense.

You turned away so that he couldn’t see you smile.

***

You turned to him as you reached your door, holding out your hand for your bag.  “Thank you for carrying this for me.  It was very gentlemanly of you.”  

He handed it over, refusing to meet your eyes.  “Yes, well.  Thank you for the night.  And the meal.”  Looking up, he gestured to your porch light.  “You should probably cut that on when you know that you’re going to be coming in late.  For safety.”

“Oh, it’s broken,” you said, waving dismissively.  

“Well then, you should have someone fix it.”

“Yes,” you agreed noncommittally.  

“And while you’re at it, you need to clear the brush from your backyard--cut it back to your property line.  It’s really dark back there at night.  Someone could hide; it’s not safe.”  

“I've never had any problems,” you said airily.  “This is a quiet street--mostly older people.”  Changing the subject, you gave him a once-over.  “Actually...you are taller than me; would you mind doing me a small favour?”

“What is it?” he asked.  

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” you demurred.

Running into your kitchen, you ripped open the cabinet and pulled out all of your tupperware.  Working quickly, worried that by the time you returned he would be gone, you filled all of your storage containers with every single prepared dish in your fridge--as well as a large container of your homemade kimchi.  Tying up everything in a couple of large bojagi, you trotted back to the door, nerves jangling in the hopes that he would still be there.

He was.

“Here,” you said, pushing the packages into his arms, dropping them, so that he was forced to catch them.

“What’s this?  What do you need?” he said, grunting in surprise at the bundles’ weight.

“Help cleaning out my fridge.  Would you take those for me?”

“You want me to throw them away?” he asked in confusion.  “What does that have to do with me being taller than you?”

“I mean, I would rather you not throw them away.  I would rather you eat what’s inside,” you answered awkwardly.

“What…”  Understanding broke over his face like sunrise, and he looked down, frowning.  “Look, you’ve already done enough--”

“Just until here, hm?  I can do that, right? You’ll let me, won’t you?  I promise you that I won’t bug you any more.”

“Bug me--?!” he looked around muttering, “Say something that makes sense.”  

“Sense is boring.  All of last night, and all of today, I’ve done everything that I wanted to do.  There are no strings attached.  Just go home and...eat well.”

He looked into your eyes  then, searched your face.  “Why have you been so nice to me?”

You shrugged.  “Why not?”

***

Baekhyun’s feet dragged as he neared his derelict apartment building. He hoped that the power company had been able to fix the electricity as, not only did he not want to be cold, but also he didn’t want your hard work to have gone to waste.  There was probably enough food to keep him for a week if he stretched it out with rice.  Walking into the building, he breathed a sigh of relief at the hum of electricity, though he chuckled ruefully to find the elevator still out of order.

Of course.

By the time he reached the top floor, he was out of breath, but the promise of homemade food drove him doggedly forward.  Unlocking the door to his efficiency, he gave a quick glance around to ensure that everything was in order before coming inside.  Turning on the light, he sighed, his breath exhaling in clouds of condensation as he noted the shine of the bulb overhead reflecting off of something on the floor.  

A giant puddle.  

Looking up, he noted the spiderwebbed cracks in the ceiling, still dark with yesterday’s moisture.  Fortunately for him (considering the fact that the landlord never fixed anything), his ceiling didn’t leak every time it rained, only when the rain was especially heavy.  It only took a few steps to reach his refrigerator, open it, and push the cans of coke, and expired kimbab to the side to make room for what you had given him.  

That done, he opened his blinds, turned off the light,pulled his well-used mop and bucket from the corner and set to cleaning up the mess.  The good thing about living in such a small apartment was that cleaning never took too long.  He shivered, teeth chattering as he mopped, his feet freezing on the cold wooden floor.  Whoever said that heat rises should come spend a night in here, he thought ruefully.  His stomach growled, and even though he knew that he should eat the kimbab first, before it went from stale to actually expired, he couldn’t control himself.  

One by one he went through the containers of food that you had packed, tasting everything, the smells and flavours delighting him.  Finally deciding on two dishes to eat, he put them in a couple of small bowls and set them in the microwave to warm, along with some leftover rice.  Sure, it would have been nice to come home to warm rice, but he wasn’t about to waste the electricity it would have taken to keep his rice cooker on warm while he was gone.  Even though the only good things about his place were the decent plumbing and the fact that it was bug-free, when added up for the year, it was exorbitantly expensive.  Though he was given the perk of being able to pay by month, after paying for rent, his phone, and electricity, he barely had enough left over for living expenses.  

It was fine.  Women preferred him slender, anyway.  He knew his edge lay in his boyish good looks, and if staying underweight helped with that, then it was just a necessary sacrifice.  Crawling into his fluffy pallet--the only point of softness and comfort in his entire home, he his heating pad and sighed.  You had been so kind.

It was rare that he found someone kind--truly, unselfishly kind--and shame burned in his chest at the memory of your generosity.  Trying not to think about it, he took a bite of galbijjim, and then a spoonful of rice.  The rich, unctuous, hearty flavour melted over his taste buds, and he thought of how you must have looked in the kitchen while you cooked it.  Smiling, he idly fantasized about you in the kitchen cooking something for him, maybe for his birthday, or for Chuseok.  The food caught in his esophagus as he swallowed, and he beat his chest, clearing his throat and reaching for another piece.  

The bowl blurred.  “Delicious,” he mumbled around a mouthful of meat and rice.  His mother had always told him that you could taste one’s love and sincerity in their cooking and sitting there, stomach warming with the food that you had given him, he could believe it.  He sniffled.  “It’s so good,” he muttered, stuffing his mouth with another bite.  Wetness splashed on his thigh.  “Aigoo...is all of your food this good?” he wondered out loud, hiccuping slightly.  “Do you always cook this well?”  His mouth slowed to a standstill, cheek still full of food.  “Are you always this warm?” He barked a mirthless laugh.  “Are you always this kind?”  He shook his head.  “Yah, Byun Baekhyun, pull yourself to