#jingxiang

The world narrowed down to the warmth of his hands as he reached for the ends of your scarf, brows furrowed in concentration. Gently, carefully, he tugged the fabric higher to cover more of your neck, fingers brushing the underside of your jaw as he wrapped it one more time.

“There,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “You’re not covering it properly. You’ll get cold.”

You blinked up at him, face warming far more than the scarf could account for. He was close enough that you could see the faint flush coloring the tips of his ears, close enough that you could count the little flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

“Thanks,” you managed.

He immediately stepped back, flustered. “Mm. Yeah. Just—be careful in winter,” he added, like that explained the way his heart was pounding.

You breathed in, the scent of fabric softener and his shampoo still clinging to the air between you. You didn’t think too hard about why it made something in your chest go soft.

Behind you, a little ways down the street, two figures slowed their pace.

“…did you see that?” Kenshin asked, in the tone of someone witnessing live drama.

Yeojun sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “He wrapped their scarf again, didn’t he?”

“Lifted it like a K-drama lead,” Kenshin muttered. “If he tucks a strand of hair behind their ear next, I’m leaving the group.”

Yeojun watched as you and Jingxiang resumed walking, shoulders almost brushing, a shared cloud of white breath drifting between you. You laughed at something he said. Jingxiang looked like he’d just been handed the sun.

“Do you think they know?” Kenshin asked.

Yeojun didn’t even hesitate. “Not even a little.”

The thing about you and Jingxiang was that you had settled into a kind of easy closeness without ever defining it.

He gravitated toward you without realizing it. If there was a free seat beside you, he took it. If there was only one umbrella left by the door, he wordlessly held it over both your heads. If you looked cold, he unzipped his jacket halfway through his own shiver, shrugging out of it before his brain had caught up.

To you, that was just… Xiang being Xiang.

To the rest of Close Your Eyes, it was a very slow, very obvious love story that no one had actually admitted to yet.

The practice room’s mirrors were fogged slightly at the edges from the warmth inside, the air thick with the vague scent of cologne, sweat, and the rubbery tang of the floor. You’d dropped by to watch them rehearse, tucked into a corner with your bag at your feet, your eyes trailing after the group as they moved in sync.

On the break, everyone collapsed where they stood. Minwook stretched out on the floor like a starfish. Seungho sat down and didn’t get up, leaning against the wall with his water bottle tipped against his jaw. Kyoungbae scrolled his phone with dead-fish eyes.

Jingxiang, however, made a beeline for you.

“You came,” he said, a little breathless. There was sweat at his temples, his fringe sticking adorably to his forehead.

“You knew I was coming,” you reminded him, laughing. “I texted you.”

“I know, but…” He trailed off, smile tugging at his lips. “Still.”

Still.

He sat down beside you. Not close enough to be inappropriate. Just close enough that his shoulder brushed yours when he leaned back against the mirror. You handed him the towel you’d been holding for him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it with both hands like you’d given him something sacred.

“You’ll get sick if you don’t dry your hair,” you scolded lightly.

He started rubbing at his hair, made a mess of it, and for some reason, that was what made something tender twist inside your chest.

You didn’t notice the way Sungmin watched from across the room, raising one eyebrow.

“They’re cute,” Seungho muttered, following his gaze.

“They’re blind,” Sungmin corrected.

Kenshin popped up beside them, flopping down dramatically. “Do you think this is what it feels like to binge a drama in real time but never reach the confession episode?”

“We’re not even halfway through the season,” Seungho said darkly.

…

The meddling started small.

“Ah, sorry,” Minwook called out the next day, peering into a nearly empty shoe rack by the door. “Only two pairs of indoor slippers left. You and Xiang can take them,” he added, incredibly casual for someone absolutely orchestrating it.

You frowned, confused. “What about you guys?”

“We’ll get them from the other room,” Minwook said quickly.

Kenshin appeared at his shoulder. “Yeah. Super fine. Totally normal. No reason we want you guys walking together or anything.”

Jingxiang blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” three voices said at once.

You and Xiang exchanged a look, shrugged in silent understanding, and slipped your feet into the last two pairs.

As you walked down the hallway together, your shoulders brushed. Twice. Maybe three times. You assumed it was because the hall was narrow.

It wasn’t.

On another day, the heater in the dorm’s living room was weaker than usual. The members had gathered for a rare free afternoon, a variety show playing on the TV, snacks spread across the low table.

“Sit,” Seungho said, patting the spot beside him.

Before you could accept, Kenshin slid in, grinning. “Oops, already taken.”

You shot him a suspicious look. “You weren’t sitting there two seconds ago.”

“I move fast,” Kenshin said with mock seriousness. “Like my career depends on it.”

“Come here,” Jingxiang said quietly.

He had shifted, creating a space between himself and the arm of the couch. It was a small space. You hesitated, then sat down, your thigh pressing against his.

The cushion dipped under both your weights, pulling you closer. Jingxiang went rigid for half a heartbeat, then forced himself to relax, ignoring the way his pulse hammered above his collarbone.

The warmth of him seeped through your jeans. His shoulder was solid against yours, his arm resting so close your sleeve brushed his every time either of you moved.

“You cold?” he murmured, tilting his head toward you.

“A little.”

He shifted, subtly, so he was angled more between you and the draft. You barely noticed the movement. You noticed the warmth that followed.

Yeojun, perched on the floor with his back against the couch, watched their reflection in the black screen when the show cut to commercial. You and Jingxiang leaned toward each other slightly, so unconsciously that it made something ache in his chest.

“We need to do something,” he said under his breath.

Kyoungbae glanced over from his spot on the armchair. “About what?”

Yeojun tilted his head back just enough to look at him. “Them.”

Kyoungbae followed his gaze, studied the picture for exactly two seconds, then sighed. “Oh. Yeah. That’s… that’s bad, actually.”

“Painful,” Kenshin corrected.

Sungmin hummed, eyes flicking from the TV to the two of you. “Let them be for now. But we’re talking to Xiang soon.”

“Soon has been three months,” Kenshin muttered.

It wasn’t all meddling. Some of it was just you being yourself, and Jingxiang being painfully, openly affected.

You swung by the practice room one evening with a paper bag in your hand and a smile you couldn’t quite hide.

“Break time,” you announced, nudging the door open with your hip.

Heads turned. The tiredness in the room lifted like someone had cracked a window.

“What is that?” Minwook asked, eyes already on the bag.

“Snacks,” you said. “Well, mostly. I got some warm drinks too, since it’s freezing.”

You started handing them out, calling each member by name, pressing cups and little bags of bread or pastries into their hands. When you reached Jingxiang, you paused.

“And for you,” you said, a little softer, holding out a cup with both hands. “Your favorite. They almost ran out but I got the last one.”

His fingers brushed yours when he took it. They were still slightly cold from dance practice, calloused and careful.

“You remembered?” His voice came out small, almost disbelieving.

“Of course,” you said, your smile tilting. “It’s you.”

The cup suddenly felt heavier in his hands. Something inside his chest swelled, unfamiliar and too big, pressing against his ribs like it was trying to escape.

You turned away to tease Kenshin about nearly dropping his bread, your laughter mixing with his dramatic whining.

Jingxiang just stood there for a second, staring at the steam curling from the lid of his drink.

It’s you.

Across the room, Yeojun watched him carefully, something like understanding settling over his features.

“Now,” he murmured.

Sungmin nodded once. “Now.”

They cornered him during the next break—gentle, but firm.

“Xiang,” Yeojun called, as the others sprawled around stretching. “Come here for a second.”

Jingxiang glanced up, mid-sip. “Mm?”

“Just for a talk,” Sungmin added, patting the empty space on the bench between them.

That should’ve been his first warning—Sungmin and Yeojun weren’t usually this obvious. But he was tired, and your words were still echoing in his head, and his guard was down.

So he went.

He sat between them, clutching his drink. “What’s up?”

Kenshin leaned over the back of the bench suddenly, chin hooked over Jingxiang’s shoulder. “We’re staging an emotional intervention.”

“…what?”

Yeojun sighed, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “We’re worried about you.”

“Why?” Jingxiang’s brows furrowed. “Did I mess up the choreography?”

“No, no,” Sungmin said quickly. “Choreo’s fine. This is about something else.”

“You,” Kenshin said. Then, after a beat, “But like… you and someone else.”

Jingxiang stared at him. “I don’t follow.”

“It’s okay,” Sungmin said. “We’ll go slow.”

“Think of it like… teaching a baby,” Kenshin offered helpfully.

“Why am I the baby?” Jingxiang spluttered.

Yeojun lifted a hand. “Okay. Let’s start with questions. Just answer honestly, alright?”

“Okay?” Jingxiang replied, clearly bewildered.

“First question,” Yeojun said. “Do you like being around them?” He didn’t say your name. He didn’t have to.

Jingxiang’s answer was immediate. “Of course.”

“Do you feel… happier when they’re here?” Sungmin added.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess so.”

Kenshin made a tiny victory fist behind him.

“Second question,” Yeojun continued, patient. “When they’re not here, do you find yourself thinking about them?”

Jingxiang hesitated.

He thought of mornings when he unlocked his phone and felt a strange, small disappointment when there were no new messages from you. Of walks home where he’d glance at the sky and imagine what you were doing. Of moments in practice when a song would remind him of your laugh.

“…Sometimes,” he said.

“Sometimes a lot,” Kenshin muttered.

“Third question,” Sungmin said. “When they’re cold, or tired, or not feeling well—how do you feel?”

Jingxiang clenched his fingers slightly around his cup, gaze dropping to the floor. “Worried.”

“Just worried?” Yeojun asked gently.

He swallowed. “I… I want to fix it. Make it better. I don’t like it when they’re uncomfortable.”

“Okay.” Yeojun nodded slowly. “And fourth question… when they smile at you, what happens?”

Silence.

He didn’t want to say it. It sounded ridiculous in his own head.

“I… I don’t know,” he said weakly. “I just—feel… weird.”

“What kind of weird?” Kenshin pressed, eyes shining with nosy delight.

Jingxiang rubbed at his chest absently. “Kind of… here. Like my heart is—” he shrugged helplessly, cheeks tinged pink, “—doing extra choreography.”

From the side, someone snorted. Seungho leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Not him describing heart fluttering like dance practice.”

Kyoungbae joined them, curiosity written all over his face. Minwook wandered over too, drawn by the growing cluster.

“Last question,” Sungmin said quietly. “If someone else started dating them… how would you feel?”

The world stopped.

The very idea of someone else holding your hand, someone else making you laugh the way he cherished, someone else wrapping their scarf around your neck—

His stomach twisted sharply.

“I…” His voice came out hoarse. “I don’t like that.”

“Just ‘don’t like’?” Kenshin asked.

Jingxiang’s grip tightened. He imagined it more clearly this time, imagined you standing in the snow with someone else, smiling up at them the way you always smiled at him.

The image hurt.

“It makes me—” He exhaled shakily. “It makes me feel… sick, I guess. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Okay,” Yeojun said softly. “Thank you for answering.”

There was a moment of quiet.

Sungmin exchanged a glance with Yeojun. Kenshin’s grin was practically splitting his face.

Minwook cleared his throat. “So,” he said. “Xiang.”

Jingxiang looked up, heart thudding. “Yeah?”

“You’re in love,” Minwook said gently. “Or, at the very least, you really, really like them.”

It landed all at once.

Like missing a step on the stairs and suddenly dropping three at once. Like the way the cold hits when you leave a warm building. Like the moment music cuts and all you’re left with is your own breathing.

“I’m—” he started, then stopped.

His head felt light. His chest felt too tight.

“You’re telling me…” he said slowly, eyes wide, “that all this time I’ve been— I— I—”

“Liking them. Yes,” Sungmin supplied.

“Genuinely, deeply, stupidly,” Kenshin added.

“In a romantic way,” Yeojun finished, voice calm but kind.

Jingxiang stared at them.

Then, with the utmost dramatics of a man whose world had just shifted thirty degrees to the left, he let his body go limp and slid right off the bench, landing on the floor in a stunned heap.

Seungho burst out laughing. “He crashed.”

Kyoungbae leaned over him. “You okay down there?”

“I—” Jingxiang’s voice floated up from the floor, high and thin with shock. “Oh my god.”

Kenshin peered down at him with entirely too much enjoyment. “Welcome to awareness, king.”

“I’ve been—” He covered his face with both hands. His ears were burning. His heart wouldn’t slow down. “I’ve been like this the whole time?”

“Yes,” came a chorus of voices.

Minwook’s was the most gentle. “It’s not a bad thing, Xiang.”

“It feels like a heart attack,” he muttered.

“That’s liking someone,” Seungho said unhelpfully.

“Hey,” Kyoungbae said, softer than the rest. He crouched down beside him, voice low. “It’s okay. Really. You’re allowed to like them. We already knew.”

“Yeah,” Yeojun agreed. “This isn’t us judging you. It’s us… letting you catch up.”

“And once you’re done screaming internally,” Kenshin added, “we can help.”

Jingxiang dragged his hands down his face, eyes unfocused, expression somewhere between horror and wonder.

“I… like them,” he whispered, testing the words on his tongue.

They felt fragile. Important. Real.

His heart skipped, then stuttered, then settled into a new rhythm.

“I like them,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “I… really like them.”

Sungmin smiled faintly. “There he is.”

Seungho nudged Minwook. “Do we tell him he’s basically been courting them already, or is that a problem for future Xiang?”

“Future Xiang,” Minwook decided.

“Definitely future Xiang,” Kenshin agreed.

From across the room, your voice drifted over, calling his name with that familiar warmth.

“Xiang! Do you want the rest of this bread?”

He jolted upright so fast he nearly hit Kenshin in the chin.

“Coming!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet.

The members watched as he hurried toward you, a freshly awakened disaster trying very hard to act normal when absolutely nothing felt normal anymore.

Yeojun folded his arms, a small, satisfied smile touching his lips.

“That,” he said quietly, “was step one.”

…

Jingxiang woke the next morning with a twist of something warm and terrifying curled beneath his ribs.

For a moment, he lay still beneath the blankets, eyes half-open, watching the pale winter light bleed into the room. His chest felt too full. His breath shaky. There was a strange flutter in his throat that wasn’t quite fear, but wasn’t calm either.

Then everything from the night before filtered back to him slowly, piece by piece—Yeojun’s patient voice, Sungmin’s gentle questions, Kenshin’s dramatic commentary, Kyoungbae’s quiet encouragement. The moment he’d sunk to the floor because the truth felt too big for his body to hold.

You’re in love, Xiang.

He pressed a pillow over his face and let out a muffled groan.

He didn’t feel ready to face you. He didn’t feel ready to face anyone. But when the dorm door clicked open later that morning and your voice floated in—soft, familiar, warm—his heart leapt before he could stop it.

“I brought snacks!” you called from the entryway.

Jingxiang froze in the hallway like he’d been unplugged.

Kenshin spotted him first and whispered, amused, “He’s buffering again.”

“Don’t pressure him,” Sungmin said quietly, though the fond curl of his lips gave him away.

“Go,” Yeojun murmured, nudging Jingxiang lightly. “It’s just them. Same as always.”

But it wasn’t. Not to him.

He took a breath and stepped into the living room.

You were toeing off your shoes, hands full of a paper bag and iced drinks. When you saw him, your face lit up instantly.

“Xiang!” you said, beaming.

His stomach somersaulted.

“H-hi,” he replied, voice cracking just slightly.

Your head tilted. “You okay? You look surprised.”

“Oh. No. I mean yes— I mean— I’m fine,” he stammered, forcing a smile. “You just… came early.”

You laughed softly. “Traffic was lighter than I thought.”

He nodded too quickly. He felt heat creeping up his neck.

Sungmin shot Yeojun a look over your shoulder, something between poor boy and we told him to breathe.

You sat down on the sofa, patting the space beside you without a second thought. Jingxiang stared at that small patch of cushion like it was a trap.

Then he sat.

Your shoulder brushed his.

Nothing unusual.

Except everything felt unusual now.

His breath snagged. He tried to hide it.

You didn’t notice—you never noticed the way your closeness affected him—but the members did. Kyoungbae, leaning against the hallway wall, caught the moment and smiled faintly, soft and knowing.

He murmured to Minwook beside him, “He’s overwhelmed.”

Minwook nodded. “He’ll settle. Just give him time.”

But Jingxiang didn’t settle. Not when you handed him a drink you’d remembered he liked. Not when you leaned in to show him something on your phone, your hair brushing against his cheek. Not when you laughed at one of his awkward jokes and his chest tightened with a warmth that almost hurt.

He spent the entire afternoon trying very hard to be normal, and somehow failing every few minutes.

When the group went out later to run errands, the winter air was sharp enough to sting. You hugged your arms around yourself, exhaling a soft little puff of fog.

Without thinking—because thinking would have stopped him—Jingxiang shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

The movement was gentle. Slow. Almost tender.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Xiang… what about you?”

He shook his head, rubbing at his chilled arms. “It’s okay. You were shivering.”

Your fingers curled into the lapels of the jacket.

You looked at him—really looked—and something in your expression softened.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

He felt the words down to his bones.

Behind you, Yeojun watched the exchange with the tired sigh of a man who had predicted every second of this. Kenshin clasped his hands dramatically against his chest.

“This is like watching a romance film in slow motion,” he whispered.

“It’s comforting,” Kyoungbae admitted.

“Painful,” Sungmin corrected.

But no one interrupted. No one teased. Something about the quiet intimacy of that moment felt sacred, even to them.

As you all walked back toward the dorm, you drifted naturally toward Jingxiang’s side. He hovered half a step behind you, as if instinctively wanting to shield you from the cold, from the wind, from anything.

The members saw it.

You didn’t.

And maybe that was why it was so beautiful.

Back inside, you lingered for a little while longer—talking, laughing, sharing the last of the pastries you’d brought—before finally grabbing your bag and saying you should head home.

Jingxiang walked you to the door.

“You sure you don’t want your jacket back?” you asked softly, fingers still curled around the sleeves.

He shook his head quickly. “Keep it. It looks… good on you.”

Your breath caught.

His eyes widened just a fraction too late.

“Oh,” you whispered, cheeks warming.

“Oh,” he echoed, because he hadn’t meant to say that, not out loud, not now, not when his heart was already fluttering wildly against his ribs.

You smiled anyway, shy and warm. “Then I’ll bring it back next time.”

He nodded, feeling slightly dizzy. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you echoed.

The door clicked closed.

Silence hummed through the entryway.

Then from the living room—

“My boy is DOWN BAD,” Kenshin announced.

Jingxiang slapped a hand over his face.

Sungmin walked over, voice gentle. “You’re doing fine. Just breathe.”

“You’re getting there,” Minwook added with a soft smile.

“You don’t need to rush,” Kyoungbae murmured. “Winter just started.”

Yeojun placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “Whenever it happens… it’ll be the right time.”

Jingxiang closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and tried to steady his racing heart.

He had no idea the first snowfall was only days away.

No idea that everything inside him—his nervousness, his affection, his quiet yearning—would soon spill over into the cold sky and the soft white falling from it.

No idea that soon, very soon, he would be standing beneath that snow with you.

And the words he’d been holding back would no longer have anywhere else to go.

Snow had been threatening the city for days.

You could smell it in the air, crisp and metallic, the kind of cold that seeped into the cracks of the pavement and pressed against windows like a whispered warning. The sky that evening was a muted gray, thick with unfallen flakes.

You hadn’t expected to end up at the dorm again, but the members had invited you so casually—“come by, it’s cold, we’ll order dinner”—that you arrived almost without thinking, tugging Jingxiang’s jacket tighter around your shoulders as you walked.

When he opened the door and saw you wearing it, something in his expression flickered. It was small—barely there—but it was unmistakably warm.

“You came,” he said quietly.

“You invited me,” you reminded him with a smile.

He stepped aside, letting you in, his gaze lingering for a heartbeat longer than usual. You didn’t know he’d replay that moment later, tucked between the folds of his mind like something precious.

Most of the members were in the living room, half-watching a show, half-distracted by snacks. Kenshin waved you over immediately. “Sit, sit! It’s freezing outside.”

“It really is,” you agreed, rubbing your hands together.

Before you could reach the sofa, Jingxiang was at your side again, already tugging a blanket from the backrest.

“Here,” he murmured, draping it around your shoulders with a gentleness that made your breath catch. His fingers brushed the back of your neck. “You’re cold.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the softness in his voice.

He looked away quickly, ears turning pink.

Kenshin silently mouthed oh my god into a pillow.

Sungmin nudged Yeojun with his elbow. “It’s happening.”

“Not yet,” Yeojun murmured, eyes flicking toward the window. “Soon.”

You didn’t know what he meant.

You didn’t know how closely Jingxiang had been watching the sky all day.

Dinner was eaten slowly, comfortably. The heater hummed. The show played in the background. Your feet brushed against Jingxiang’s under the low table, and he went still—barely breathing—before easing into the contact like it was something he’d been wanting without realizing.

At one point, you stood to get water, crossing in front of the window.

You paused, brow furrowing.

“…is that—?”

Jingxiang nearly dropped the spoon in his hand.

He was on his feet before he could help himself. “What is it?”

You stepped closer to the glass, palm pressed lightly against the cold surface.

Outside, illuminated by the streetlamps, something soft drifted down.

A single flake.

Then another.

And another.

“Oh,” you whispered. A smile touched your lips, small and bright. “Xiang… it’s snowing.”

Something in his chest buckled.

He drifted toward you without meaning to, drawn like gravity had shifted. You stood together before the window, breath fogging the glass, faces lit by the pale, glowing snowfall outside.

“It’s the first one,” you said quietly. “The first snow of winter.”

You sounded almost awed.

He didn’t look at the snow.

He looked at you—eyes bright with wonder, light catching in your hair, his jacket wrapped around your shoulders like it had always belonged there.

His heartbeat thudded against his ribs, a tremor of something deep and inevitable rising inside him.

“Do you want to… go outside?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Your eyes widened. “Now?”

He nodded.

There was something in his gaze—soft, vulnerable, hopeful—that made the air around you seem warmer.

“…okay,” you said.

You grabbed your gloves. He held the door.

The moment you stepped outdoors, the cold air kissed your skin, and snowflakes landed silently on your eyelashes. The street felt quieter than usual, softened by white.

You breathed in, smiling. “It’s beautiful.”

He didn’t answer at first.

You turned to him, brows raised.

Then he spoke, so quietly you almost missed it.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your breath caught.

He froze, eyes widening, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

His hand flew to his mouth.

“I—I didn’t— That was— I mean I did but I—”

You stared at him, cheeks warming despite the cold. “Xiang…”

He squeezed his eyes shut like bracing for impact.

“I think—” he whispered, voice shaking, “I think I’ve been trying to court you.”

The words spilled out like a secret too heavy to keep inside.

You blinked. “Trying to… court me?”

He nodded helplessly, hands trembling slightly at his sides.

“I didn’t realize it at first. I didn’t understand why I kept wanting to be near you. Or why I kept… wanting to take care of you.”

He swallowed hard.

“But then the members explained it to me—slowly, like I’m emotionally inept—and it made everything make sense. I’ve been— I’ve been doing all these things without realizing what they meant.”

You said nothing.

The snow fell softly around you, settling in your hair, melting on his sweater.

Jingxiang’s voice dropped to a murmur.

“I like you,” he admitted, raw and trembling. “I like you so much I didn’t even understand it was liking. I just thought it was… you. Being you.”

The night breathed with you.

The sky glowed faintly.

The world felt suspended.

You took one small step closer.

“Xiang,” you whispered, voice barely stable, “I think I like you too.”

His breath hitched—sharp, disbelieving.

His head lifted slowly, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

He found none.

The snow swirled gently around you, softening the world, muffling the sound of everything except your breathing and his heartbeat.

Something inside him softened.

Something inside him bloomed.

He exhaled shakily, warmth fogging the air between you.

“…really?”

You nodded, smile trembling. “Really.”

A laugh slipped out of him—small, incredulous, beautiful.

He covered his mouth again, as if afraid the joy might escape.

Behind the dorm window, silhouettes gathered—six heads stacked at different heights, watching silently, except for Kenshin, who was visibly bouncing.

But neither of you noticed.

You looked up at him, snow melting on your cheeks, eyes warm in the cold.

Jingxiang lowered his hand and whispered, “Can I…?”

His fingertips hovered near your cheek, uncertain, gentle.

Then, softly:

“Can I kiss you?”

He asked the question so quietly you almost thought the snow had whispered it instead.

Can I kiss you?

The words drifted between you like breath in the cold—visible, tender, fragile.

He stood there with his hand half-raised, his eyes wide and soft and terrified, as if you were a snowflake he was afraid to touch too hard or you’d melt.

You felt your heart swell.

Not in a loud way.

In a slow, warm, inevitable way—like it was expanding to make room for something it had been waiting to hold.

You nodded.

A small, shaky exhale slipped from him, like he’d been holding his breath for days.

Jingxiang stepped closer—just a little.

Careful. Cautious. Gentle, the way he always was with you.

The snow fell around him in quiet spirals, landing on his lashes, catching in the strands of his dark hair.

His fingers touched your cheek first, the lightest brush, warm against the cold of your skin.

You leaned into the touch without thinking.

He froze.

Then softened, thumb barely grazing the curve of your jaw.

You whispered his name.

“Xiang…”

He looked at you like you were something beautiful he’d never been allowed to see up close.

Then, slowly—so slowly you felt your breath stutter—he leaned in.

His forehead touched yours first.

A soft nudge.

Barely there.

He lingered, steadying himself, letting the moment settle around the two of you like a blanket.

And then… his lips met yours.

The kiss wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t practiced.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss found in movies.

It was soft.

Warm.

A little shy.

He kissed you like a question—like he was terrified and hopeful all at once.

You answered by tilting up toward him, pressing a fraction closer, letting the cold of winter brush your back while his warmth anchored the front of you.

He made the tiniest sound against your mouth—a quiet, startled breath that sent your heart tumbling. His hands came up hesitantly, one settling at your waist, the other holding your cheek as if afraid you would slip away.

The world dimmed.

The snow grew thicker.

Somewhere far behind you, the members were pressed against the window in chaotic silence, but even their presence felt muted, distant.

Because right now there was only this—

Jingxiang’s trembling exhale beneath the snowfall,

your hands fisted gently in the front of his sweater,

your noses brushing as you broke apart for a moment that felt like the pause between heartbeats.

His eyes fluttered open.

He looked dazed.

Soft.

Absolutely wrecked in the sweetest way.

“You…” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, trying again. “You kissed me back.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Yes, Xiang.”

His lips curved into the smallest, shyest smile—like he hadn’t expected to be allowed happiness this tender.

“…can I do it again?” he whispered.

You nodded—too quickly, too honestly.

He laughed, nervous and delighted all at once, and leaned in again—

this time with a little more certainty,

a little less fear,

and all the warmth he’d been holding in his chest for months.

His mouth brushed yours in a lingering kiss that tasted like winter air and soft promises, the kind that settle under your skin and stay there long after the moment ends.

When you finally pulled back, your noses still touched.

Your breath mingled in tiny clouds.

Jingxiang rested his forehead against yours and let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “This doesn’t feel real.”

You cupped his jaw lightly, snow melting on your knuckles. “It is.”

He blinked, slow and full of wonder.

“I really like you,” he whispered. “I’ve liked you for a while. I just didn’t… know how to call it liking.”

You smiled up at him, lips tingling, cheeks warm despite the cold.

“And now that you know?”

He flushed, looking away for half a second before meeting your eyes again with sincerity that hit you like warmth in winter.

“Now,” he said softly, “I want to learn how to love you properly. I want to do everything right.”

Your breath caught.

He wasn’t trying to be poetic.

He wasn’t trying to impress you.

He was just honest.

You slid your hand down his arm until your fingers found his.

“I’ll help you,” you whispered.

His grip tightened around yours.

A gentle hush fell over everything—the street, the sky, the falling snow—like the world itself had paused just long enough to make space for this moment.

And Jingxiang, heartbeat steadying as he held your hand beneath the first snowfall of winter, smiled in that small, soft way that meant he finally understood something he hadn’t before.

He was allowed to want you.

And you wanted him too.

BONUS: EPILOGUE

The moment you and Jingxiang disappeared from view—just barely slipping beyond the balcony railing, faces close, lips finally meeting—the dorm erupted into the exact brand of chaos everyone had been holding in for weeks.

It started with Kenshin.

He slapped both palms against the sliding glass door and whispered, far too loudly to be a whisper,

“OH MY GOD, IT’S HAPPENING. IT’S ACTUALLY— THEY’RE— THEY’RE KISSING!”

Minwook yanked him away from the window. “Get DOWN! They can SEE you—!”

“No they can’t,” Kenshin argued dramatically as Seungho grabbed the back of his hoodie to drag him down to the carpet. “They’re in their own little ROMANCE WORLD! Leave me here to witness history—”

“Kenshin,” Sungmin said calmly, “your forehead is literally fogging up the window.”

He froze, then pressed his hand against the glass to check.

Sure enough — a perfect forehead-shaped circle was blooming on the surface.

Yeojun sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re unbelievable.”

But his voice was warm, softer than usual.

Because when he lifted his gaze back to where you and Jingxiang stood outside—still close, still tucked into each other like the cold didn’t exist—something like relief settled into his eyes.

Kyoungbae didn’t say anything for a while.

He stood slightly back from the crowd, hands in his pockets, watching the way Jingxiang leaned in slowly, timidly, as if afraid to startle you. Watching the way you tilted up toward him, smiling in that small, quiet way that said you’d been waiting for this moment too.

Eventually, he exhaled.

“He looks… happy,” Kyoungbae murmured.

There was a pause—unexpectedly gentle—before Minwook nodded.

“He really does.”

Inside the pile of bodies on the floor, Kenshin whispered, “I’m gonna cry.”

“You always say that,” Seungho muttered.

“But this time I MEAN IT,” Kenshin hissed. “Do you even KNOW how many hours of my LIFE I spent watching Xiang stare at them like a confused baby deer?? I deserve this.”

Yeojun elbowed him lightly. “Be proud of him.”

“Oh, I AM,” Kenshin said, pressing both hands over his heart. “My boy unlocked his romantic arc!”

Sungmin, still the calmest of the bunch, finally pulled them away from the glass entirely.

“Alright, break it up. Give them space. Jingxiang’s gonna pass out if he sees us hovering.”

“He already passed out once this week,” Seungho pointed out.

“Exactly.”

They drifted back toward the couch, still buzzing with excitement but trying—poorly—to act normal.

Sungmin turned on the TV. Yeojun grabbed a snack bag and opened it just for something to do. Minwook sat down, elbows propped on his knees, subtle smile never leaving his face.

Kenshin paced like a caffeinated cat.

Finally, the sliding door opened.

Jingxiang stepped inside first, hair damp with melted snow, cheeks flushed deep pink. You trailed in behind him shyly, adjusting his jacket around your shoulders.

If he’d been nervous before, he was a wreck now—eyes darting around like every member was a landmine waiting to explode.

“Uh,” he said, voice soft and cracked. “We’re back.”

The silence that followed lasted exactly half a second.

Then—

“KISSED!!!” Kenshin screamed.

Sungmin slapped a hand over his mouth. “Kenshin—!”

But the damage was done.

Six sets of eyes locked onto the two of you with varying levels of delight, pride, and holy-hell-it-finally-happened energy.

Yeojun stood up first, expression calm but eyes bright.

“Congratulations,” he said simply.

You smiled shyly. Jingxiang’s ears went crimson.

Minwook approached with a grin that was equal parts teasing and warmly proud. “So… how does it feel to finally confess, Xiang?”

Jingxiang made a noise that resembled a dying kettle.

Seungho clapped him on the back. “We’re all really happy for you.”

“SO HAPPY,” Kenshin added, prying Sungmin’s hand away from his mouth. “YOU GUYS DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND—”

“Kenshin,” Sungmin warned.

“What? I’m expressing JOY.”

“You’re expressing noise.”

Kenshin ignored him completely and turned to you with the sweetest grin.

“Welcome to the family officially. Sorry about the chaos, but, uh… you knew what you were getting into.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah. I think I did.”

Jingxiang looked between you and the members, overwhelmed in the best possible way. His shoulders relaxed. He reached for your hand—quietly, instinctively—and when you intertwined your fingers with his, he looked like he might float straight into the ceiling.

Kyoungbae spoke last, approaching with his hands still tucked into his pockets.

He gave Jingxiang a small nod—simple, sincere.

“You did well,” he said.

Jingxiang’s eyes softened. “Thanks.”

“And,” Kyoungbae added with the faintest smile, “I’m proud of you.”

The room fell into a hush for a moment—warm, close, almost reverent.

Then Kenshin ruined it.

“So,” he said, leaning forward with a too-wide grin, “WHEN’S THE WEDDING—”

“Kenshin, I swear—” Sungmin lunged.

Kenshin yelped and darted behind the couch.

The room erupted into laughter, bodies chasing each other around furniture, Seungho filming from the sidelines, Yeojun shaking his head, Minwook trying to mediate, Kyoungbae sipping his tea like he had nothing to do with any of them.

And in the middle of all the chaos, Jingxiang leaned toward you with a quiet smile.

“You okay?” he asked, voice soft, warm just for you.

You squeezed his hand.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Just really, really happy.”

His smile deepened in the way only winter softness could allow.

“Me too.”

And as the members continued yelling, teasing, laughing, and loving a little too loudly around you—

you realized this was exactly what falling in love with Ma Jingxiang felt like.

Warm.

Gentle.

Chaotic.

And utterly perfect.

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