Jongin's breaths leave his lips in warm puffs, rising into the cold night air. Yixing smiles to himself, hands warm in his pockets as he watches the other boy try to take pictures of the delicate snowflakes falling around them. Jongin lets out the occasional huff, fingers flying over the screen of his phone as he deletes unwanted attempts.

He's crouched in the corner under a streetlight, trying to catch the fluffy bits of ice on his tongue and on camera at the same time. It must not work, Yixing thinks, because as soon as Jongin's eyes land on him, he's on his feet, joining him in the middle of the courtyard.

Yixing feels his breath catch in his throat, eyes fixated on the younger's face and unable to look away. Yixing has seen Jongin in all ways—good and bad. He's seen him sick, sleepy, stressed, happy, embarrassed, sad, angry. And while there's a certain beauty and charm to Jongin in every state, he thinks there's something more this time.

"It's pretty, right?" Jongin asks, sidling up just in front of Yixing, close enough for their breaths to heat the space between them. Warm hands are pulling Yixing's from his pockets, shoving a phone into his slowly numbing fingers.

"Huh?" he mumbles, eyes finally falling from Jongin's excited face to the phone now in his hands.

Jongin laughs, bright and loud, fingertips sliding over Yixing's to adjust his hold on the device. "The snowflakes," he elaborates, glancing up again, and Yixing thinks it's unfair how the light plays off the ice crystals caught in Jongin's hair.

"Yeah," Yixing agrees, not entirely sure where the younger is going with the statement when his Korean is only so-so and he's not paying the most attention.

He laughs again, mouth open wide and eyes turned up in pretty crescents, breath curling up into the crisp air. "Take a picture for me?" he says, half asking, head tilted down to make sure the camera is open. Yixing can't take his eyes off of the yellow light illuminating Jongin from behind, catching in the dark strands of his hair. "Your hands aren't shaking as badly as mine."

Yixing only understands half of what he says, but he gets the gist of it, moving to comply. Clumsy fingers somehow exit instead, and he laughs a little in apology, holding the phone back out to Jongin because it's late, and he doesn't want to try to work his way through the confusing letters on the screen.

Jongin chuckles with him, shaking his bangs out of his eyes, a flurry of half-melted ice hitting Yixing's cheek with the action. "It'll stop snowing before we can get a picture at this rate," he says, attempting to sound angry, but all Yixing can detect is the playful tone in his voice.

Jongin moves closer, warm body pressed into Yixing's side, and Yixing opens his mouth to apologize, to ask if he can try again. He closes it when one of Jongin's arms wraps around his shoulders, the playful moment suddenly seeming much more intimate. He relishes in the warmth, admiring Jongin's focused face in the reflection of the glass of his phone screen as he brings the camera app up again.

Their manager comes out then to round them up, and Jongin is using his hold on Yixing to drag him around the corner and away from prying eyes. Yixing sends him a confused glance, and Jongin smiles, laughter much quieter than before—so that they're not found, he assumes. "I want to watch the snow fall for a little longer," he whispers, breath puffing from between his plush lips, and Yixing smiles as well.

"Okay," he agrees easily, unable to stop smiling as he watches Jongin fumble with his phone. It's considerably darker in their new corner, and the only reason Yixing reacts in time to help Jongin catch his phone is because he was watching his hands so intently.

Jongin laughs breathlessly in his ear, taking his phone and finally sliding it into his pocket. "I give up," he whines, draping himself over Yixing dramatically, chin resting on his shoulder. He can't see the younger's face from this angle, but he can hear the smile in his voice.

They're quiet then, watching the snow drift slowly to the ground, shimmering in the artificial light.

"It's pretty, right?" Jongin repeats after a while, voice soft.

Yixing thinks back to Jongin laughing, smile wide, eyes squeezed shut, snowflakes caught in his hair and eyelashes, warm yellow light framing him from behind, and smiles. He hums in agreement, leaning back into the boy behind him, speaking softly so he doesn't ruin the atmosphere. "It's beautiful."

You're beautiful.