Until the Cherry Blossoms Bloom

The cold in Oaken Ridge didn’t simply settle over the land.

It crept.

It slipped beneath doors despite carefully packed cloth, crawled through cracks in old cedar walls, and clung stubbornly to every surface until even the hearth seemed to burn with reluctance. It lived inside the timber of the cottages, in the frozen fishing nets hanging unused from weathered docks, and in the lungs of every villager who dared venture outside.

After four months, the cold had become another resident of Oaken Ridge.

Jungkook stood at the window with both hands wrapped around a mug that had long since gone lukewarm. Beyond the wavering glass, the sea rolled beneath cliffs dusted in white, each wave capped not with foam but with shards of drifting ice. The harbor sat eerily still. Fishing boats remained trapped where they’d frozen months ago, ropes stiff as iron rods.

The calendar nailed beside the doorway insisted it was the twenty-eighth of April.

It lied.

April should have smelled like damp earth. Like salt carried inland by warm winds. Like fresh herbs sprouting behind cottages.

Instead...

The air smelled only of snow. Snow and smoke. The entire village had stopped talking about spring sometime around February. Now people only asked one another the same questions.

“How much wood do you have left?”

“Did the supply wagon ever arrive?”

“Will the pass open before next week?”

No one answered.

No one knew.

Jungkook rested his forehead lightly against the cool glass. The chill should have made him pull away. Instead, it soothed him. His hand drifted instinctively beneath the thick wool sweater hanging loosely around his frame.

There.

The familiar warmth.

Small.

Fragile.

Impossible.

A smile ghosted over his lips before melting away almost immediately.

“...Hi.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper. “I know it’s cold.” Silence answered him. Still... He liked pretending whoever rested safely beneath his heart could somehow hear him. “I’m trying.” He rubbed gentle circles over the barely noticeable curve. “I’m really trying.”

His scent had changed weeks ago. At first he’d dismissed it as stress. Then exhaustion. Then wishful thinking.

Until Taehyung had frozen halfway through preparing dinner, stared at him with wide eyes, and quietly asked, “...Kook?”

The younger omega hadn’t needed to ask what Tae had noticed.

He’d simply started crying.

Jimin still didn’t know.

The realization hurt more every day. Closing his eyes, Jungkook reached toward the distant thread connecting him to the northern half of their pack. It was still there.

Faint.

Frayed.

Like grabbing hold of a spider’s web during a storm.

Sometimes, usually in dreams, he thought he caught echoes. The reassuring weight of Jimin’s presence. The scent of warm cedar bark after rain. Calloused hands against his waist. A laugh rumbling against his shoulder.

Then he’d wake. The cabin would be quiet. The mountains would still be buried beneath impossible walls of snow. The bond would stretch painfully thin again.

“...I miss you.” His breath fogged the window. “I really miss you.”

A loud crack echoed outside. Jungkook startled. His heart lurched before he realized it was only another tree giving way beneath accumulated ice. He released a shaky breath. His nerves had become embarrassingly fragile lately. Every unfamiliar sound made him jump. Every gust of wind felt like bad news.

Three gentle knocks interrupted the silence.

“Kookie?” Taehyung’s voice.

Jungkook hurried toward the door. The moment he opened it, freezing wind burst inside carrying flakes of powdery snow.

Taehyung stumbled through with exaggerated dramatics. “I’m becoming an icicle.” He kicked the door shut behind him. “I’ve officially decided winter is rude.”

Despite everything... Jungkook laughed.

A tiny one. But real.

“There you are.” Taehyung pointed accusingly. “See? I knew you still remembered how.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I breathed funny.”

“You laughed.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“You snorted.”

“I would never.”

Taehyung gasped dramatically. “Jeon Jungkook.”

“What?”

“You just lied to my face.”

His boots thumped heavily against the wooden floor before he peeled away layers of scarves, mittens, and thick coats until his naturally sweet omega scent gradually filled the little cabin. Vanilla. Warm bread. A hint of cedar that always lingered after spending too much time beside Yoongi. He set a wooden crate onto the kitchen table.

“Look.”

Jungkook wandered over. Inside sat carefully wrapped bundles.

Dried apples.

Tea leaves.

Half a sack of barley.

A tiny jar of honey.

His eyes widened. “...Honey?”

Taehyung grinned proudly. “Mrs. Han refused payment.”

“She what?”

“Said Yoongi fixed her roof before winter.”

“...Hyung never told us.”

“He wouldn’t.”

Jungkook smiled softly. “That sounds like him.”

Taehyung began unpacking everything while talking. “The bay’s changing.”

Jungkook looked up immediately. “What do you mean?”

“The ice.” Taehyung carefully measured tea into a kettle. “It cracked this morning.”

Jungkook’s heartbeat quickened.

“The fishermen saw open water.”

“...Really?”

“Mhm.”

Hope.

Tiny.

Dangerous.

It fluttered inside his chest.

“What about the pass?”

Taehyung’s shoulders fell. “...Still buried.”

The hope dimmed.

“...Right.”

For several minutes only the kettle spoke.

Water hissed softly over gathering heat.

Finally Jungkook murmured, “It’s been four months.”

“I know.”

“Hoseok hasn’t come back.”

“I know.”

“I keep thinking...” He swallowed. “What if they’re hungry?”

“They’re not.”

“What if someone got hurt?”

“They haven’t.”

“What if—”

“Kook.” Taehyung reached across the table. Warm fingers enclosed Jungkook’s cold ones. “They’re alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“How?”

“Because Namjoon hyung is with them.”

Jungkook blinked.

Taehyung smiled. “If the mountain itself tried killing them, Namjoon would probably negotiate with it.”

A tiny laugh escaped Jungkook. “And Jin hyung would make it soup afterward.”

“...Exactly.”

The laughter faded into silence.

Then...

“I wish I believed that as easily as you.”

Taehyung squeezed his hand. “I don’t.”

“...No?”

“I just choose to.”

Eventually the younger omega whispered the thought that had haunted him for weeks.

“He doesn’t know.”

Taehyung’s expression softened instantly.

“He doesn’t know...” Jungkook repeated, voice trembling. “He doesn’t know he’s going to be a father.”

The words settled heavily between them. Outside, wind battered the cabin. Inside, neither omega spoke. Taehyung slowly stood. Then crossed the room. Then wrapped both arms around Jungkook before the younger omega could pretend he wasn’t about to cry. “He’ll know.”

“What if...”

“No.”

“What if he never...”

“No.”

“What if—”

“He will.” Taehyung leaned back enough to meet Jungkook’s tear-filled eyes. “I have never met someone more stubborn than Park Jimin.”

“...You have.”

“No.”

“You live with Yoongi.”

“...Okay.” They both laughed. “A close second.” Taehyung said, while hugging his friend again. “He’d climb the mountain barefoot.”

“He would.”

“He’d fight a blizzard.”

“He absolutely would.”

“He’d yell at the weather.”

“He definitely would.” Jungkook sniffled. “He’d probably lose.”

Taehyung smiled. “For about five minutes.”

Jungkook rested one hand over his stomach again. This time Taehyung covered it with his own. Neither spoke. Neither needed to. Beneath wool and layers of careful secrecy rested the smallest heartbeat either of them had ever protected.

Outside...

Winter still ruled the coast. The mountains still stood impassable. The train tracks remained swallowed beneath snow. But somewhere beyond those frozen peaks, another half of their family waited beneath the same sky. And ice, no matter how endless it seemed, had never lasted forever.