ANGEL ☾ winwin one shots.

a shelter in the snow. [markwin]

it's the first snowfall that day. ice crystals from the sky fly down and land on mark's lashes. a smile blooms on his face. ever since he was little, mark loves the snow. he used to chase after the light white flakes and make snowmen out of them.

now that he's sixteen, he stopped doing all that. but his love for winter never changed.

the distant sound of bells urges him to look up. his smile widens. coming out from the café with two hot drinks in each hand, sicheng – dressed in a fluffy beige coat and oversized maroon scarf – tries to balance them as he pushes the door with his feet. his brows are knitted together in concentration.

call mark smitten, but he looks adorable even doing the bare minimum.

as cute as it is, he's clearly struggling, so mark approaches him and takes his drink from sicheng. only then does sicheng look up.

" minhyung ," he says, slightly surprised. " you're done already ?"

" yup. went to main street then back again ."

sicheng smiles and ruffles mark's hair. " little mark's grown up. you used to take 30 minutes at the very least ."

you're only two years older, mark thinks, but doesn't voice it out.

" well, I've done this for six years. gotten used to it ." he says instead.

" good. as your mom said, let's never lose hope ."

" I don't know. I think we should stop ." he says quietly. he could've almost sworn he whispered it – but judging from the look on sicheng's face, he's heard it.

mark's face drops when sicheng retreats his hand. sicheng throws his gaze elsewhere. he has this faraway look on his face, like he's reminiscing. looking back to his past.

and mark knows, if he could, he would've traded his present for his past in a heartbeat.

when it was more than just the two of them. when mark's half-brother was still around.

although he never admits, mark knows sicheng's been affected heavily by the absence of his brother. they were a tight-knit duo after all. the lack of his best friend has been driving sicheng off the edge, though he hides it so well.

but at times like these, mark could see it in his eyes. hollow, like a window to his miserable soul. it reminds mark of a winter sunset.

then, like a switch has been flicked, sicheng turns to mark with a smile.

gently, he reaches for mark's bare hand. waves of sensations hit mark all at once. sicheng, unaware of the effect he has on mark, interlocks their fingers.

mark's gaze falls to their hands. they fit perfectly, like puzzle pieces.

his thumb caresses the back of sicheng's hand. the older is wearing cream fingerless gloves. they're handknitted by mark's mother for sicheng's birthday long before she's fell ill, when he was a kid. years later they still fit.

mark lets his eyes find sicheng's. sicheng's smile reminds him of coming home from school on a snow day to hot cinnamon drinks by the fire.

" it's getting dark soon. we should go home ." sicheng says.

unable to speak, mark nods.

the route back home takes less than five minutes. that's one of the little benefits of living in a rural town; everything is nearby. but when sicheng detaches his hand to unlock the door, mark's decided it's not a benefit.

the house is similar to a small cottage. shabby and old – its doors squeak every time they move, its lights flicker every now and then. its faucet runs, drawers never close quite right.