Hoya finds Sungjong on a bench well past midnight. 

The younger is just sitting there, under the glow of a lamp light, in the middle of a deserted park near their dorm. 

A puff of steam escapes Hoya’s mouth as he sighs and walks over the bench. Hands in his sweatshirt’s front pocket and hood over his head, he sits next to Sungjong. 

They sit in silence, listening to the wind rustle the leaves of the trees over their heads and the distant sounds of car horns because Seoul never truly goes to sleep. 

“It’s freezing,” Hoya complains after a while.

“You should have brought a thicker jacket,” Sungjong chuckles but stares down his shoes with eyes that are the opposite of humorous. 

“Want to talk about it?” Hoya asks. He’s the only one that ever does. 

Sungjong shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

“Tell us --”

“-- when you’re ready.” Sungjong rolls his eyes, a hint of a smile on his lips like he’s heard Hoya’s speech a million times before (and he nearly has). “I know.” 

Hoya shoves Sungjong’s shoulder lightly, mumbling “respect your elders, you brat” or something along those lines. 

Sungjong sighs and leans his head back, closing his eyes briefly before staring up at the night sky. It’s too cloudy and the city air is filled with too much smoke to see the stars. 

“You know, we’re always here for you.” 

Sungjong turns to find Hoya staring up at the pitch black sky as well. Hoya glances at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“All of us,” he adds. 

“I know.” Sungjong nods.

Hoya holds his arm open and Sungjong scoots closer to him, resting his head on the elder’s shoulder. 

“You’re the youngest, you can act like it sometimes.” Hoya rests his hand on the top of Sungjong’s head.

“I know.” 



(prompt: freezing)