if your heart was a house i'd be home

May 30, 2014 18:21

if your heart was a house i’d be home
chanyeol/jongin, pg-13, general
to rewrite a story, you have to reach the end first.

for ang, happy birthday! ♥ thanks luvey for being my hurdles coach :3

Maybe in the same meeting room, six years ago, Chanyeol would never had broken up with Jongin.

It’d been horrible, six years ago. In Jongin’s dorm room - Chanyeol can’t remember the exact words Jongin had said, but the way Jongin had looked, hurt and bitter in the poor lighting, an inch from Chanyeol’s nose, still burns. Jongin still looks the same. Sharper eyes, maybe, ones that seem to see through Chanyeol even with the metres between them, but the same frame, same mouth.

“Hello,” Chanyeol says. Jongin loses its way in his throat and the silence after that’s meant to be filled for a stranger’s name buzzes sharp in Chanyeol’s ear.

“Right,” Minseok says, “This is Chanyeol, music producer for the mini, and,” Minseok gestures to Jongin, “choreographer. Lu Han you already know. We’re still waiting for the executive producer, then we can start.”

Minseok asks Lu Han about something - Chanyeol can barely hear it. There’s no space for anything else but the buzzing quiet between him and Jongin, directly across the table from him. Jongin’s looking in his backpack, turned away from Chanyeol, and all Chanyeol can think about is how the bow of his shoulder, the exact spot where Chanyeol had made a habit to kiss, is exactly the same.

Chanyeol only realises Junmyeon’s here when he claps a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder, thanks for making it last minute, and the meeting starts. Chanyeol’s quite aware he’s staring across the table, finding himself confirming all the memories of what Jongin looked like, some absurd validation for himself that he can’t help. Jongin’s eyes are fixed on Junmyeon.

Jongin meets his eyes in a piercing - Chanyeol is jerked to the present only then, realising Junmyeon has been calling his name for a while, now. “Chanyeol?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol’s eyes dart away reflexively, as if burnt. Maybe they aren’t ready to hold Jongin’s gaze right now, either. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, you’ll have to work very closely with Jongin - we want this mini to be very much performance-oriented, so we’re planning on closely tying the music with the choreography, add in new dance breaks. Mostly R&B and hip-hop, of course, but also some newer styles so the choreography can go wild.”

Chanyeol can’t look at Jongin, not when he can feel the weight of Jongin’s eyes on him. He nods. “Okay.”

The meeting irons out more details, the concept of the direction, and Chanyeol wonders if Jongin is as shaken, as unsettled as he is. Jongin’s good at wearing his heart on his sleeve, but also good at being professional, and that Chanyeol can’t read someone he’d thought he loves - it’s a smack in the face.

Eventually, after Chanyeol barely gets through the meeting and they have Jongin look at Lu Han’s dancing, Junmyeon walks Chanyeol to the exit. “Jongin’s done a lot of work in Japan,” Junmyeon explains even before Chanyeol can ask. “Up-and-coming choreographer there, hope he’ll work out some magic for Lu Han and we can build on that traction.”

Chanyeol nods, waves goodbye to Junmyeon like it’s nothing at all, but that night he lies awake staring at the ceiling realising he’d needed to know about Jongin through a third party - that for every curve and bow he knows about Jongin, Jongin is still, essentially, a stranger.

---

It’d been rash, a messy termination of puppy love. They’d fallen in bed together, a night so long ago Chanyeol only vaguely remembers anymore, after too many kisses sticky from alcohol at some lame beer-only party, and Jongin had fucked him hot and slow so well Chanyeol had made sure to keep the number Jongin scribbled on the back of his hand before jerking him off the morning after in a safe place.

Somewhere along the corridors of campus Chanyeol had found his heart already in Jongin’s hand, popped the question and took each other on dates too romantic to relive now, in the dark of his room. It was nice, someone to have in the crook of his elbow, being someone’s special someone, kissing Jongin where it matters. He’d spent much more time sophomore year in Jongin’s room pretending to study than in his own, and he’d thought, then, that that meant something.

The second year of their relationship Jongin’s dance major required that he spend eighteen hours in the studio as Chanyeol moved a state away to intern for a music company to put in his dues. When Chanyeol could make it back to Seoul, usually at obscene times, Jongin either was still choreographing in the studio or dead asleep to catch up with the hours he missed, and Chanyeol had understood. He had - he was passionate about his dream, too, but one Friday after braving two train delays to wait four hours for Jongin was a stood-up date too many.

“I’ve been waiting four fucking hours,” Chanyeol had said - spat into the phone. It’s always the extremes with anger and irritation for him. “Don’t you think you can miss a couple hours of sleep to see your boyfriend who travelled three hours to see you?”

Jongin had been silent for a while, and Chanyeol had been too angry to hear the hurt in his held breath. “I have an exam in two hours,” was all Jongin had said, quiet like that was all the justification Chanyeol should need, and it’d shoved Chanyeol over the edge.

“Fine,” he’d said, angrily standing up and spilling the soup from the ramyeon he’d had, “Let’s break up, then. I don’t even see you anymore.”

“Fine,” Jongin had said harshly enough, quickly enough to kill any regret Chanyeol had right then, and Chanyeol had turned his phone off to blow the last of his cash and hot air in a club grinding up on the nearest body.

When the anger had finally, finally washed over Chanyeol to leave regret bitter in his chest, a week later, he’d discovered Jongin had changed his number, and they hadn’t shared a social circle enough for Chanyeol to ask his friends. He can’t deny that he hadn’t wanted to resort to that either, to forsake his pride for someone who hadn’t thought he was important enough to keep.

Six years later that fine is still the last thing Jongin had said to Chanyeol, and perhaps the regret is still as it had been, too.

---

Chanyeol wakes up late, stubs his toe on the bedpost and gets caught in the rain on the way to the company, which makes Jongin’s entrance into the studio catch him so off-guard that a few seconds pass before he can find a hello to force out. Jongin doesn’t break the eye contact.

“Hello.” It comes out strangled.

“Hello.” There is a hint of a smile on Jongin’s face, but Chanyeol cannot mistake the formality in it. Chanyeol can play the same, act as if they’d never known each other, too - it’s been six years ago, for fuck’s sake. It would be presumptuous to assume Jongin ever regretted that breakup, or that Jongin wants anybody to know about what they’d had. In truth, he probably doesn’t either.

“I came to hear the stuff you’ve been doing,” Jongin says, thumbing the side of his finger. “I’ve heard Lu Han’s music before, but since Junmyeon mentioned new arrangements… I can just sit here and watch you do your stuff, that’s okay, right?”

“Yes,” his voice comes out overcompensating for the quiet in the room and he has to clear his throat in haste. “That’s fine. We’re just going to re-record Moonlight today.”

Jongin nods, taking a seat in the far corner of the studio. Chanyeol’s always disliked the searing quiet of the studio, but today it feels much more tense; almost unbearable.

“Have you eaten, yet?” Chanyeol blurts, anything to cut the tension. Jongin looks at him, assessing for a second.

“Yes. You?” The second word, question is much more of an afterthought, the polite thing to do. Jongin’s never asked Chanyeol that question.

“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and when Jongin blinks, looking like he had one cup of coffee and nothing else, his eyes still half-lidded this early in the morning, Chanyeol still wants to press his lips to the spot where Jongin’s cheek catches the sharp fluorescent lighting, except this time he has to catch himself. Habits are hard to break, and Chanyeol’s first love was his whole heart itself.

Lu Han comes in with Minseok just then, dragging Chanyeol’s eyes from the tiny cleft in Jongin’s lip. “Sorry, sorry,” Lu Han says, “oh?”

Chanyeol doesn’t trust himself to make of how Jongin jumps a little, too, like he does when he’s surprised. “Hi,” he says, bowing a little to Lu Han. “I came to hear your stuff so far, Junmyeon gave me the demos but since the arrangements are going to be different…”

“Sure,” Lu Han says. “Glad to have you.”

Lu Han does a few voice exercises, Chanyeol rifles through his lyric sheets without reading and Jongin watches. Chanyeol can’t help but wonder if Jongin is watching Chanyeol from behind, the way he’d been magnetized towards Jongin in the meeting room last week.

“Chanyeol?” It takes Minseok’s hand on his shoulder for him to snap awake. “Sorry?”

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Minseok sets a paper cup of coffee in front of him. “We have a lot to get through today.”

“Right,” Chanyeol shakes his head. “Sorry.”

When the recording starts proper, Chanyeol jumps headfirst into it, and it helps that the music in his earphones are loud enough to cut over anything else. It takes Lu Han twenty takes to get it just right.

“Alright, think that can be a wrap.” Chanyeol says into the microphone, making a face like Lu Han hadn’t totally killed the last take. “Good enough.”

Lu Han sticks his tongue out at Chanyeol when he takes his headphones off and comes out to punch him in the arm. “Thanks, producer-nim,” Lu Han tells him, the perfect face of sweet sarcasm. Chanyeol punches him back in the gut.

“We’re doing Thunder on Thursday,” Chanyeol calls after Lu Han when they leave, grinning at the thumbs-up Minseok shoves in the gap before the door closes, and turns back to see Jongin still there. Chanyeol is surprised for a second, though he’s not sure why he’d instinctively expected Jongin to have left halfway. Jongin’s eyes hold a lot of him that he’s suddenly almost afraid to know about, and the tension is so thick on Chanyeol’s lips that he has to tear his eyes away from Jongin’s.

Catching a glimpse of the clock, Chanyeol starts when the time registers. “We have to leave,” he turns to busy himself with stuffing the papers in his backpack. “We have the studio just till twelve.”

Jongin nods. “Thanks for letting me sit in.”

“It’s nothing,” Chanyeol says, holding the door open for Jongin. When he turns to close the door, at this cusp of Jongin leaving - it makes Chanyeol want to call his name, roll Jongin off his tongue for the first time since their first meeting again, but when Chanyeol readies it on his tongue and turns to the corridor, Jongin’s already gone. Perhaps it’s just as well, since Chanyeol doesn’t know what he would have said after.

---

“Sorry,” is the first thing Chanyeol hears after he steps into the studio. “Junmyeon said you were editing today?”

Chanyeol looks up to see Jongin, dark circles smudging his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Can I…. sit in again?”

Chanyeol’s answering before he realises. “Sure.”

“Moonlight is a really beautiful song,” Jongin says as he takes the seat in the sofa furthest from Chanyeol, like he had yesterday. The studio suddenly seems much too big for two.

“Please sit here,” Chanyeol blurts before he can stop himself, patting the swivel chair next to him, wondering how it sounds to Jongin after it makes it out of his mouth. “Maybe you can give me some opinions.”

Jongin’s smile is apprehensive when he takes the seat. It’s much closer, maybe too close, but Chanyeol’s heart is calmer than it’s ever been since Jongin had stepped into the studio.

“I’m just gonna go through the versions Lu Han recorded yesterday, find out the best parts.” Chanyeol isn’t quite sure if he’s doing this for Jongin or himself, but he keeps talking. “Cut them together and figure out the bass and backup vocals.”

Jongin nods, and out of the corner of Chanyeol’s eye he can see that Jongin’s looking at him. Chanyeol focuses on the computer before him, cues up Version 1.

When the music starts, Chanyeol offers Jongin one of his earphones on reflex, remembering that Jongin can hear from the speakers much too late. Jongin takes it anyway, his fingers brushing over Chanyeol’s - Chanyeol’s surprised it feels like nothing, especially not in the way it used to too many years ago, when he’d been head over heels, pulse-racingly in love with Jongin, insatiable in his hunger to feel Jongin everywhere it matters.

“I like this part,” Jongin says after a while of sitting in silence, a sea of nothing away from Chanyeol’s shoulders. Chanyeol smiles when he registers it’s the segment he’d worked on for several nights, polishing every note.

“I’ve been a sucker for sad guitar riffs for too long,” he says.

“I know,” Jongin says, quiet, but it’s resounding in the studio. Chanyeol can’t help whipping to Jongin, but Jongin doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s the first admission that they’d had a life together, a first sign that Jongin had thought Chanyeol important enough to remember, and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to say.

“Version two?” Jongin asks, Chanyeol complies, and the moment’s over, though those two words crawl under Chanyeol’s skin like an itch. In version two Lu Han starts much softer, intimate this time, but maybe Chanyeol’s imagining it.

Chanyeol lines the versions up back to back so he doesn’t need to say anything, Jongin listens next to him. It’s testament to how different they work, when Jongin’s feet tap out the beat and Chanyeol picks up on the ways Lu Han’s voice drops off too early in a line, takes an awkward breath here and there. When he gathers himself to peek sideways, Jongin has his eyes closed, moving with all the grace and fluidity Chanyeol’s ever seen anyone sitting down, choreographing to the music and it hits Chanyeol like a sledgehammer - that this is the Jongin he’d fallen in love with so long ago, the Jongin that has music in his veins, the Jongin that gives all of himself to dance. Chanyeol remembers how it’d felt when he’d hung around to watch Jongin practice the first time, when they were more than a one night stand but not quite dating, so intensely it feels almost like flesh memory. He’s not sure if memory can quite hold this intensity, anymore.

Jongin opens his eyes to meet Chanyeol’s, his eyes holding the pull of a thousand oceans, and Chanyeol’s cheeks are on fire, not just because Jongin had caught him staring. Version 21 ends to searing quiet in the studio, but Chanyeol can’t call it awkward, not when his heart is churning.

“Sorry,” Jongin says, not taking his eyes off Chanyeol. The weight of his gaze is too much, but Chanyeol doesn’t want it to stop. “Am I being distracting? I can -“

“No,” Chanyeol says, “it’s fine. I like seeing you dance.”

Six years ago he would have said this just so he can follow it with a kiss, but the way it makes it out of his mouth - it sounds like he means it, and he does, truly so. It’s nothing more than appreciation, nothing less. This time it’s Jongin’s turn to redden, the first of the old Jongin Chanyeol’s seen so far on his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Jongin says, looking down at his lap. “I hope I can come up with something good for this song.”

Chanyeol hopes too, and he says nothing when he nods, but perhaps Jongin hears it anyway. Later that evening, though Chanyeol can count the words they’d exchanged over the afternoon, when Jongin bids him goodbye quietly the studio with himself alone is much, much too big for one.

---

Chanyeol goes through an hour of mixing and editing trepidatious and jittery before he realises he’s waiting for Jongin to knock and ask if he can sit in, and it hits him harder than he expects. Assuming too much faith right from the get-go has always been a bad habit of Chanyeol’s, and it’s a long way to fall - Chanyeol’s experienced this too many times to count. It’s a reminder that his reflexive yardstick is premature and aggressive - has always been, even when it’s not Jongin’s fault.

Still, it unsettles him, and it’s much worse when he finds that none of Lu Han’s versions capture the emotions he wants in the bridge on his millionth listen. The studio feels suffocating today, though Chanyeol has always loved the way music fills the studio all the way up, and Chanyeol stands up thinking he’d better take a break.

He’s thinking of dropping by the convenience store next to the company, getting a drink or something to eat when he passes a door and sees, through the glass door, Jongin choreographing to Moonlight. He can tell it’s exploratory; Jongin is hesitant, looking at his moves in the mirror, rewinding the music after several bars, sometimes letting it run till he’s got the set of eight perfect. He’s transfixed, but most striking of all, Chanyeol realises, his heart is ironed out much lighter with the knowledge that Jongin hadn’t been at the studio because of this.

Ten, twenty minutes pass, maybe, Chanyeol just watching Jongin dance. Chanyeol’s secretly thankful that Jongin puts in two hundred percent of his attention when he dances, until the music ends on the few notes Chanyeol’s especially proud of and Jongin stops to catch his breath - and Chanyeol’s gaze, when his eyes cut through the door to find Chanyeol’s. He’s not sure whether to go in, but -

“You can come in,” Jongin closes the ten steps it takes to jerk Chanyeol’s heart to the back of his throat. “Maybe you can give me some opinions, too.”

“You know I have two left feet,” Chanyeol laughs in an attempt to ignore his choking pulse.

“Still, I’ll appreciate anything,” Jongin replies, and the moment’s over. Chanyeol’s left tasting his receding heartbeat as Jongin starts the music so Chanyeol can watch him dance to something borne out of his efforts, something he’s immensely proud of. In truth, he doesn’t need to watch the dance in its entirety to be sure there’s no one else he would rather have choreograph a number to Moonlight.

The dance is stunning with the music playing and Jongin in clear sight - it seems as if Jongin is the magnetizing heartbeat in the room itself. Chanyeol’s lost for words when Jongin looks at him expectantly when the music ends.

“I… wow. I love it.” Chanyeol swallows. “I - it’s great.”

Jongin looks at him for a while, then breaks into a laugh, his eyes crinkling into breathtaking crescents. “Still eloquent,” Jongin says, turning to rewind the track, and somehow those two words - maybe it’s how fond Jongin sounds saying them - pull everything that’s been simmering in Chanyeol’s chest these few days onto his tongue.

“Jongin.” Chanyeol gets it out before it crumbles into nothing. “I should have said this a long time ago, but. I’m sorry. I was rash and stupid and I shouldn’t have ended it, at least not that way.”

Chanyeol can’t see Jongin’s face, but Jongin freezes and Chanyeol’s heart stutters with the feeling of having made a terrible decision in the second it takes for Jongin to turn around.

“I owe you that, too,” Jongin says, biting his lip looking at the floor. Chanyeol almost feels relieved that Jongin doesn’t meet his eyes - he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that. Chanyeol can see the slight tremble of his lip - maybe because his heart is mirroring it. “I’m sorry.”

Jongin doesn’t owe Chanyeol anything, but the room seems less suffocating, the space between them less full now. Perhaps it’s because Chanyeol’s thrown his heart raw and bare into it - Jongin has, too, and perhaps it’s because this is closure, somewhat. A late answer is still a period at the end of the chapter.

“Let’s start over?” Chanyeol gathers the last of his courage to offer his hand, and Jongin takes it with the tiniest of smiles.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jongin says, “I’m Jongin.”

“Chanyeol,” Chanyeol smiles, and even if Chanyeol can still remember the slip and slide of Jongin’s lips hot against his, this feels like a fresh start.

---

They shift after the night in the studio as demo recording and mixing gives way to editing and choreography for the mini - Jongin drops by the studio more often than not to listen, and Chanyeol drops by the dance room to watch.

“Mondays suck,” Jongin sets the cup down next to Chanyeol in the earliest they’ve been at the studio, waiting for Lu Han so they can squeeze in an hour of recording before one of his schedules. It’s an Americano, two sugars from the sip Chanyeol takes. A tiniest, most mundane detail about himself, but Jongin remembers, and Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, but the small paper cup feels especially warm in his hands.

“Thanks,” Chanyeol grins, tossing Jongin the other half of his breakfast bun, and Jongin catches it just to sink into the seat next to Chanyeol. It feels just like finals term in college first year, Jongin in charge of the energizing drinks and Chanyeol in charge of the kisses. Chanyeol wonders if Jongin remembers the lazy Sundays in Jongin’s sheets after finals, too, and wonders what the faint twinge in his chest means at the memory.

“Hey, hey,” Lu Han plods in half-asleep as Chanyeol’s halfway through his cup of comfort. “How come I don’t get coffee too?”

“Your manager - sorry, butler is behind you,” Chanyeol points out to Minseok’s death glare, then both Jongin and Chanyeol burst into laughter. Jongin still laughs precisely how Chanyeol remembers him to, and sometimes it’s just this mere fact that makes Chanyeol laugh along too. It’s been two weeks since they’d started afresh and they both don’t skirt around mentions their past relationship, but there’s still that awkward point when one of them inevitably lets slip. A moment where Chanyeol’s not sure what it means for Jongin, for him, but it always passes before Chanyeol can figure anything out. Another thing that’s changed, though: Jongin choreographs in the studio sometimes, as Chanyeol plays segments with the bass beats he intends to add and Jongin feels if it works, and Chanyeol makes notes in the dance room to strengthen the snare drum when he sees Jongin make a move with force. Sometimes it feels like the lines are blurred. Jongin asks him about his stories, inspirations for the songs he’s written, Chanyeol watches his passion translate into Jongin’s limbs. Perhaps waking up next to someone with drool down their chin is its own sort of implicit understanding, even if it happened six years ago.

“Hey,” Jongin calls from the middle of the dance room across to Chanyeol later that evening, who’s sitting on the sofa absently watching Jongin figure out this set of eight. “How does this look?”

“It all looks good,” Chanyeol calls, because it does. Jongin scowls and kicks in Chanyeol’s direction.

“You didn’t even look!”

“I did,” Chanyeol says, catching his eye. “You’ve been working on this for ages, let’s go for dinner.”

“Okay,” Jongin pads over to Chanyeol to grab his towel and mush it in his face. “You’re buying, right?”

Chanyeol’s surprised at the speed at which Jongin’d agreed - years ago, with a deadline looming ahead and sets of eight yet refined to the last beat, Jongin would never have left the studio. Chanyeol knows that his demo video for Moonlight is due next week at Junmyeon’s table and he’s almost done with the choreography, but even so this is a Jongin that he’s never seen.

“Wow, I can buy too, you know. When did you become so stingy -“

Chanyeol shakes his head, grins fast enough to make it look like he was gunning for that all along. “You’re buying, then,” he says, and Jongin rolls his eyes to lead Chanyeol out of the dance room.

When they’re all settled down with makchang and enough servings of samgyeopsal to feed the entire team working on the mini, the question makes its way off Chanyeol’s lips with the onions. “You don’t push yourself too hard anymore,” he says quietly, waiting for the meat to grill. “I mean, not that you don’t work hard, but now you let yourself breathe more.”

Maybe this is what he’d been mad at Jongin for a long time ago, a twisted frustration at Jongin pushing himself way too hard, except he was too dumb, too rash and selfish to see it. Jongin’s eyes are soft across from him.

“Yeah.” Jongin says just loud enough for Chanyeol to hear. “Took me a while to see that sometimes breaks are just as important, especially for the people who matter.”

Chanyeol’s heart is running faster than he can keep it in, especially with Jongin holding his gaze, but he wills himself not to drag this wild. “I’m glad.”

“Besides,” Jongin’s smile is different, now, “I really was hungry.”

This is easier to handle - Chanyeol’s grinning before he comes up with a comeback. “Enough to treat me,” he laughs and dodges Jongin’s lettuce leaf.

Later, after Chanyeol fights hard enough to pay, he won’t let himself treat this as a date, but that lightness in his chest, the warmth on his skin even in the cool spring air is much, much worth the extra everything Jongin added to the bill.

---

Chanyeol spends enough time watching Jongin’s every move, every step that he knows what’s coming next, when Lu Han tries the choreography for Moonlight out for the first time.

you’ll have to credit me as honorary choreographer, Chanyeol texts Jongin when Lu Han records replacement backup vocals for Moonlight and dances to Jongin’s choreography in the studio. corrected him on that roll at the start of the bridge n__n

we’ll see for dance practice later, Jongin texts back when Chanyeol knows his alarm rings. keep ur smirk till then

Chanyeol attends the dance practice later as Honorary Choreographer, just to watch Lu Han get the move at the start of the bridge right and Jongin dart his eyes to Chanyeol, grudging amusement in them. Even after the session, when they’re sprawled on the floor finishing the fried chicken Lu Han bought, the feeling of victory and something else still stays, especially when Jongin lets Chanyeol change his name in Jongin’s phone to HONORARY CHOREOGRAPHER PARK CHANYEOL. The dance practice must have been draining, but Jongin perks up when he hears Chanyeol absently hum one of the songs he’s working on.

“Play that for me,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol doesn’t need anything else. Reaching for his guitar leant against the wall, he strums a little to warm up, then goes straight into it. They’ve done this before, a long time ago as boyfriends, as Jongin snoozed lazily on Chanyeol’s legs and Chanyeol tried out chords on Chanyeol’s bedroom floor. This time they have a sea of space between them, but it’s just as comfortable, just as warm in the room. Jongin rubs his eyes and pillows his chin on his hands, watches quietly as Chanyeol sings and strums, and it’s only then that Chanyeol notices the creases at the corners of Jongin’s eyes.

“Tired?” he asks, breaking from his singing but keeping his fingers strumming. Jongin nods. “The sleeping until lunch isn’t enough?”

Jongin carelessly throws a sock at Chanyeol, one he’d taken off the minute they’d gotten to the room. “Junmyeon asked yesterday that I choreograph for the other group they’re debuting, you shit. Baekhyun and Jongdae? I have to listen to their stuff first.”

It’s great news, especially since it’s more exposure for Jongin in the Korean pop scene. “Wow, really?” Chanyeol reaches over before he realises what he’s about to do. “Congrats.” His hand lands in a rough ruffle of Jongin’s hair.

Jongin smiles. “Their music producer is so different from you. Grumpy and scary.”

Chanyeol laughs when he remembers Kyungsoo, quiet, serious and not an article of clothing that isn’t black in his closet. “He’s a black belt in jujitsu, just warning you.”

Jongin shudders, picking up the last of the chicken. “I don’t want to ever be in the same room as he is.”

“I know, not everyone can be an excellent person to work with like I am,” Chanyeol stretches out, smug, and hides behind his guitar before Jongin can reach over to punch him. “So what’s their music like? Are they as much of a shit as Lu Han is?”

“They’re pretty good dancers,” Jongin hums, “good music, too. I like their stuff, can’t wait to come up with dances.” It’s there, the fire in Jongin’s eyes when he talks about dance, and Chanyeol suddenly remembers what he’d fallen in love with way back in their university’s tiny dance studio, the passion for dance Jongin has that Chanyeol had been too childish to watch edge over himself in Jongin’s heart. It still rushes admiration in his chest.

“Tell me everything,” Chanyeol says, and in that afternoon he lines up the questions he’s genuinely curious about, about Jongin’s opportunities, his experiences in Tokyo that will help, and finds that his eagerness to share everything with Jongin, to share Jongin’s everything distracts him from everything but Jongin.

---

When the mini’s production nears the end and Chanyeol’s at Lu Han’s schedules more in the capacity of a friend than professionally, Jongin’s spending more and more time in the dance studio, sometimes without Chanyeol. Chanyeol drops by whenever he can, after working on the projects that Jongin’s not involved in, and they have dinner often. Chanyeol still longs, sometimes, that Jongin would be next to him in the studio laughing, still longs for Jongin to be the first person to listen to his stuff, but it’s not the same urgency he’d felt, back in college. Now waiting till they have dinner together is fine - seeing Jongin move instinctively to his songs is good enough. Chanyeol can take pleasure in thinking of Jongin and texting him, too.

Jongin meets him late on a Friday looking tired but happy, and Chanyeol’s grin mirrors Jongin’s on its own.

“They really like the demo video,” Jongin says, slipping into the booth next to Chanyeol at their favourite meat place instead of across from him. “So I get a break off till Monday ‘cause they’re overseas at some singing training place.”

“Wooooo,” Chanyeol cheers and hands Jongin a beer bottle so he can clink it. “Lucky I ordered enough to celebrate then.”

Jongin tells Chanyeol excitedly about the progress they’ve made on Baekhyun and Jongdae’s debut, and Chanyeol returns the favour on his project till they’re both stuffed to the brim with food. “So, two days off?”

Jongin nods, resting his forehead on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Two whole days to myself, what even am I going to do.”

“You should go on a vacation,” Chanyeol says, “down to Eulwangni beach or something. Apparently the weather is perfect there.”

“Alone?” Jongin pulls a face. “Do they deliver to the beach? It’s not a vacation if I have to look for food myself.”

Chanyeol laughs, wondering if Jongin can hear his heartbeat at this proximity. There’s only one thing to say. “Let’s go, then.”

Jongin pulls his chin up to look Chanyeol in the eye - this way they’re so close Chanyeol can feel his breath on his lips, and -

“Really?” Jongin says, not moving away. “I was just - you know. You don’t have to drop everything to come with me. Don’t you have mixing or whatever to do?”

“Nope,” Chanyeol grins and stands, pulling Jongin up with him. “Vacation it is!”

Chanyeol makes a quick stop to grab a bunch of clothes at his house, and they’re on the highway to Incheon with excitement buzzing his veins. It’s been a long while he’s done something this impulsive, but he can’t say he regrets it, especially when he rolls the windows down and Jongin looks as excited as Chanyeol is with the wind carding his hair.

“I haven’t been to the beach in ages,” Jongin remarks. “Like in years.”

“Me too,” Chanyeol says. Seven years, in fact, since the last time they took another trip, just as impromptu as this one to clear their heads in the midst of studying for midterms. Chanyeol can’t help from wondering if Jongin remembers that, too.

Jongin sticks his head out of the window, looking at the landscape they pass, the bright moon hanging over the roofs of the houses, then turns back at Chanyeol. Whether it’s the sheer intensity of his gaze or whether this is familiar as if it’d happened just yesterday, Chanyeol can feel that Jongin’s both happy and touched without having to look at him, and it makes him much, much more pleased than he would expect.

Eventually, after Chanyeol’s belted out his best cover of Firework over the radio along to Jongin’s laughter, Jongin falls asleep, leaving Chanyeol to navigate the confusing roads of Incheon alone, but even when he eventually parks along the prettiest stretch of beach and kills the engine quietly nearing dawn, just the sight of the moonlight dusting Jongin’s cheeks is enough to keep Chanyeol feeling full - wholesome - till he falls asleep.

---

After Jongin shoves a rather sleepy Chanyeol into the water and they share convenience store corn dogs and odeng in the sand for lunch the next day, looking for shelter and sanitary facilities is their immediate concern, but they are out for a bit of a surprise. Being as impromptu as Chanyeol gets has its drawbacks, they find when they drop by the hotels near the beach, especially in summer - prime tourist spot coupled with prime tourist vacation period means they are relegated to a room on the beach with the hot summer air as their four walls. Jongin doesn’t seem to mind his quick shower at the public toilets, at least, and sinks onto the painfully old picnic mat Chanyeol found at the bottom of his boot after they stuff themselves with clam soup and grilled octopus after dusk. The slopes of Jongin’s face are softer in the wan light, and Chanyeol sits down next to Jongin much closer than he’d intended to, but it’s nice, his thigh grazing Jongin’s. Jongin stretches out and pillows his head on his arm, looking up at the stars.

“It’s beautiful,” Jongin murmurs, his hand creeping out to touch Chanyeol’s thigh. “Look.”

There are a few stars out today, each blazing brighter than the next, but Chanyeol’s heart is blazing hardest of all. His breathing is so slow, so hesitant, almost as if it’s afraid Jongin will move away if he takes a bigger breath. Quite simply, Chanyeol doesn’t want Jongin to stop.

“It is,” he manages, taking that last step off the edge to look at Jongin. From this angle, Chanyeol can see everything - the stars reflected in Jongin’s eyes, the soft bow of Jongin’s lips. The burn is back in his chest - the one that overwhelms Chanyeol with how much he wants to kiss Jongin. It’s like he’s eighteen all over again.

In the few seconds Jongin catches his eye Chanyeol thinks he reads the same fire, too, but Jongin breaks the gaze to look back at the stars and the moment’s over. Chanyeol can’t stop looking at Jongin, though, like Jongin is a magnetic force field that’s snapped away from him, and the burn is still there, so strongly that Chanyeol can’t imagine it’ll ever go away.

He doesn’t do it, doesn’t even move from his position till Jongin tugs him down so they’re lying side by side, and Chanyeol lays awake that night next to Jongin’s quiet snoring hoping there is courage to be gained from being under the stars like this.

---

Chanyeol still ignores the burn the whole of the morning, throughout the sand fight Jongin starts with him, throughout them getting ice creams off a roadside stand, even when a bit of melted ice cream slides down Jongin’s chin, throughout their lazy feet dipping at the shore. Jongin seems carefree, something that Chanyeol hasn’t seen in a while, not with all the projects looming over his head. It’s the very Jongin that had gotten - still gets - Chanyeol’s heart in a flutter; just watching Jongin enjoy the time he has for himself is enough to make Chanyeol enjoy himself, too, and he doesn’t want to break this. Jongin’s laugh every five minutes at everything and nothing Chanyeol says is the largest test - Chanyeol wants to feel that laugh for himself too, on his lips and on his skin, but he can’t bring himself to hear it stop.

The ride home is something else - Jongin’s presence is much, much bigger in the little space in the car, something that tunnels inside Chanyeol and makes itself home. If Jongin’s enjoyment had been palpable at the beach, it’s visceral in the car. The burn blazes harder than ever, when Jongin dances along to whatever’s on the radio, his elbow grazing Chanyeol’s hand on the gearstick, when Jongin looks at him singing along to Moonlight so intensely Chanyeol thinks it reaches the bone, when Jongin’s laugh rings loud and bright in the tiny space over the gearstick. It feels exactly like six years ago, like he’s falling in love all over again, except - this is not precisely the Chanyeol that had fallen in love with Jongin six years ago, and this is not the Jongin that Chanyeol had fallen in love with. In simplicity, the only thing that matters is this is what he wants.

Chanyeol pulls up at Jongin’s apartment block quiet, watches as Jongin unbuckles his seatbelt. Jongin stays put even after he does.

A long pause of holding Jongin’s gaze, then - “Thanks for,” Jongin makes a vague gesture, “This.”

Chanyeol smiles, truly happy. “Anytime.”

Jongin seems to want to say something, but he just watches Chanyeol for a second and maybe - then Jongin blinks, smiles, opens the door and for some reason, the possibility of losing this chance to nothing, makes Chanyeol grab Jongin’s wrist as he turns.

“Jongin.”

Jongin sits back in the car, looking at Chanyeol, and Chanyeol can’t breathe, can’t choke it out of his throat, but Jongin’s lips are on his, now, quiet and hesitant, almost, something fleeting that’s gone just as quickly as it came so there’s a beat between their lips. Jongin’s breath is held, and this close - no distance at all - it tumbles off Chanyeol’s lips.

“I like you,” Chanyeol whispers, his lips grazing the words onto Jongin’s. “A whole lot.”

Jongin’s tiny snort of laughter in reply might as well have been Chanyeol’s, with how close they are, and this time they meet in the kiss that’s been burning in Chanyeol for much longer than he’d realised.

“I like you a lot, too,” Jongin murmurs somewhere during the kiss, and that’s all that needs to be said.

g: general, p: chanyeol/jongin, r: pg-13, f: exo, a: rubyls

Previous post Next post
Up