The windows of the old farmhouse groan, rain pelting the glass and an angry wind jostling the frames. A draft slips in through a gap in the wood, the one Jungkook’s been meaning to fix, and you reflexively pull the blanket that’s wrapped around your body tighter, snugger. 

Through fogged glass windows, you can barely make out the sheep in the pasture where they’re huddled together, their bodies distorted by bulbous raindrops. You watch as a couple break off from the herd, blurs of white floating toward the fence line like grounded clouds.