❄ wooya for hana on tumblr ❄
“You are going to hurt yourself,” Hoya says as he leans against the doorway to the kitchen.
“No I’m not.” Woohyun says as he spreads out more newspaper on the floor. ”Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Woohyun turns to his laptop to read the directions over; a block of candle wax sits at his side on the counter.
“Because you and hot wax just screams trouble,” Howon says.
“It’s going to be fine,” Woohyun replies. “Everyone said that I should get a hobby, so I got one.”
“I think they meant like photography like Myungsoo or fashion like Sungjong. Something less …” Hoya watches Woohyun turn on the stove warily. “... dangerous.”
“Candle making is not dangerous if it’s done right. And you’re distracting me, so go away.”
Woohyun proceeds to push Hoya out of the kitchen before placing the block of wax into the pot.
“I knew you were going to hurt yourself,” Hoya says smugly as he watches Dongwoo places Woohyun’s finger in the bathroom sink full of water.
Woohyun shoots a frown over his shoulder.
“Wax is more difficult to handle than I thought.” Woohyun frowns. “And the pot slipped.”
“Uh huh,” Hoya says, unconvinced.
“Keep it there for about five minutes,” Dongwoo instructs as he leaves the bathroom. “I’m going to get the first aid kit.”
“Does it hurt?” Hoya asks. (He’s not a complete asshole.)
Woohyun nods and takes his injured finger out of the water. He holds it in front of Hoya’s face. “Kiss it better.”
“Ew no,” Hoya shoves his hand and walks down the hall.
“Please?” Woohyun chases him down the hall, holding out his finger like a little kid.
“No! Stop!” Hoya struggles to push Woohyun away.
“Come on, just one little peck,” Woohyun laughs.
“Dongwoo’s going to get mad at you for not listening to him.”
“No he’s not not!”
“Hey!” Dongwoo yells, marching up to Woohyun with the first aid kit in hand. “I told you to keep it in the water!”
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Woohyun cries.
Hoya snickers as he watches Dongwoo drag him back into the bathroom.
❄ donggyu for anon on tumblr ❄
He would forget his gloves.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if he could just run into the salon, braving the cold for a few minutes. But no. They were half an hour early (that’s a first) and the salon’s front door were locked.
Why not just wait in the van? some might ask.
Well, Sunggyu would, if their manager didn’t accidently lock the keys inside.
Sunggyu sighs as he stuffs his hands in his coat pockets and watches Dongwoo hop around in an attempt to keep warm (or maybe he’s just overly hyper as always.) Their manager is yelling into his voice, telling the others to hurry up and get there before they freeze to death.
Sunggyu curls his hands into fists in his pockets. The heat from his palms sort of help edge the numbness away but his arms are still tense from the cold, hands still twitching slightly in his pockets.
Dongwoo hops in front of him.
“They’ll be here soon,” he says.
“Not soon enough,” Sunggyu grumbles. “My fingers are going to fall off any minute now.”
“Here,” Dongwoo says as he takes off his mittens. “Take them.”
Sunggyu stares down at the yarn gloves and the little reindeer design crocheted onto the backs. “Are you sure?”
Dongwoo nods with a small smile.
“Thanks,” Sunggyu mumbles and slips them on.
They’re already warm and feeling instantly begins to return back to Sunggyu’s numb fingers.
“What are you going to do?” Sunggyu asks, noticing Dongwoo’s thick sweater doesn’t have any pockets to shield his now bare hands.
“I’m not sure …” Dongwoo glances around, a pout on his lips. His eyes light up suddenly and he steps closer to Sunggyu. He sticks his hands into the Sunggyu coat pockets with a satisfied smile.
“Yes this will do,” Dongwoo nods.
Sunggyu stares down at the younger and sighs once again.
❄ hojong for veronica (@vipratten on tumblr) ❄
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.