Upside Forward (6/10)
Title: Upside Forward
Pairings/Characters: Chanyeol/Luhan
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Luhan leaves for a study abroad semester in NY and leaves Chanyeol behind. Basically, without Luhan smiling at him everything about Chanyeol's life sucks just that much worse.
A/N: Originally written for lj user riseandrain at the yeolliepopday exchange. Also, some theme music and the song that kept me going.
Chanyeol tries to tell himself it wouldn’t be so bad, going to a museum alone, since it’s for an assignment after all. But Chanyeol knows that browsing exhibits is generally a couple activity, unless you happen to be a grade school student or parent chaperone on a class tour, and Chanyeol also knows for a fact that no schools are in session on the 25th.
That means Chanyeol will be walking straight into Lovey Dovey Zone on the biggest romantic holiday of the year excepting Valentine’s, unarmed and alone and very, very vulnerable. It makes him slightly sick just thinking about it. He can already picture several awkward scenarios if he were to run into someone he knows, out on a date, and just no. Not happening.
Since he can’t drag Luhan with him, Chanyeol’s options are rather limited. Baekhyun and Minseok both have dates, Kris and Yixing are out of the country for the next few weeks, and Kyungsoo is watering hanging plants and making radish kimchi at his aunt’s. That leaves Jongin and Jongdae. Jongin might come along if free food was involved, but Chanyeol hadn’t even seen him yesterday when he went looking for him in the studio. Most of the company dancers still have daily classes, break or no break, but only Sehun had been around yesterday to inform Chanyeol that the ballet people were off campus for some special master class.
So here Chanyeol is at the library on Christmas Eve, languishing on a hard chair in the back of the reference section and barricaded behind a wall of thick color catalogues. He’s spent all morning sifting through page after page of incense burners and urns and water jars, and oh--most exciting of all!--the unidentified fragments section in the back of The Complete Illustrated Guide to Gaya Artifacts. Chanyeol is dateless, friendless, and silently suffering from a ceramics induced headache. It’s not even 2 PM on the 24th and Chanyeol already hates Christmas.
“Chanyeol hyung?”
Chanyeol jerks at the breathy whisper, his elbow knocking the Illustrated Guide to the floor. It lands on the threadbare carpet with a thud. An invisible miasma of ancient dust tickles Chanyeol’s nostrils and someone coughs.
“Jonginnie? What are you doing here?” Chanyeol says, then sneezes.
“That’s what I was gonna ask you! You’re a hard man to find, Park Chanyeol.” Jongin slings his backpack onto the chair opposite Chanyeol’s and folds his arms across his chest.
“Not really!” Chanyeol is wearing a red sweatshirt with a broken zipper that jingles, has on his old, squeaky sneakers, and he can’t even cry quietly.
“I had to call and interrupt Minseokkie hyung’s date to know where to come find you!” Jongin makes quote marks in the air with his fingers, then sinks them into the hand warmer on the front of his hoodie.
“I thought his date was tomorrow.”
“Well, apparently he has two.” Jongin snorts.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Chanyeol tries to sound nonchalant, fingering the cracking binding of Joseon National Treasures: Porcelain Edition. Maybe if he introduces his proposal by starting with restaurant names, Jongin will be so focused on the prospect of food he won’t even notice the word “museum” in there.
“Nothing.” Jongin drops his gaze to the floor. His fingers worm inside his pocket. “That’s why I came to find you. Minseok hyung said something about a field trip?”
“Huh?” The stitching in the left corner of Jongin’s front pocket is coming loose, and there’s a tiny hole just above.
“The National Museum?” Jongin looks up again and his cheeks are tinged with pink. He’s wearing too many clothes under his jacket again; he must have just come from class.
“Oh, yeah. Why, did you want to come?” Chanyeol unzips his jacket and fans himself with the hem of his shirt. Just watching Jongin sweat in this stale air is making him uncomfortably warm.
“Well, I don’t have anything else going on.”
“You don’t have rehearsal?” Chanyeol starts rearranging the stacks of books in front of him, in no particular order.
“Not on Christmas.” Jongin licks his lips, kicks at the table leg. “So if you wanted... company…”
“One National Museum ticket! Sold! To the dongsaeng in the holey sweatshirt!” Chanyeol slams a heavy catalogue shut with his fist.
“The museum is free, hyung. And my clothes do not have hooooles!” Jongin whines, dragging his feet against the carpet.
“Then what do you call this? Huh?” Chanyeol wiggles his finger through the gap above the pocket, tickling Jongin’s tummy through his T-shirt.
“H-hey! Stop it!” Jongin laughs, his breath hitching as he writhes away. Chanyeol stands to grab his bag, sucking in his gut to squeeze out of the corner.
“Did you have lunch?”
“No, but I gotta run, my sister’s in town.” Chanyeol nods, turning his phone in his jeans pocket. “But I’ll see you tomorrow? In Yongsan?”
“Ok.” Chanyeol swallows, his throat all dry from the heater. “Tomorrow at 10:00?”
“You have yourself a date!” Jongin winks, flipping his thick shock of hair back from his forehead and matching Chanyeol’s eager grin with a lazy one.
Chanyeol sits back down to read through comparisons of kiln structures but his head feels much better now. So does his heart, maybe.
******
Chanyeol gets to the museum early, like twenty minutes early, so he takes his time walking through the grounds, past the reflection pool and up the wide granite stairs to the glass bubble of the front entrance. It’s windy and starting to blow fine needles of ice so Chanyeol pushes through the side door to wait on the steps inside.
As expected, almost no one else enters the museum alone while Chanyeol watches anxiously from the side. Most of the visitors wander in in pairs, women Taeyeon noona’s age in collared jackets, fluffy skirts, and heeled boots prancing by with boyfriends in ugly snowflake sweaters and plaid scarves, or high school kids in matching outfits of ripped jeans and flannel button downs. A few couples are pushing strollers or dragging an older child along by the arm, but no one lingers in the entryway, just strolls by Chanyeol with a brief glance or none at all.
Chanyeol checks the time on his phone. Jongin’s a bit late, but that’s not unusual. He considers texting Jongin just to make sure he’s out of bed and on the way, but settles for sending a message to Luhan.
Merry christmas hyung! <3 !
Hope youre stayng warm thinking of me~!
He slides his phone into the front of his coat and pokes at the tiny hole in the corner of the pocket. He wonders if Jongin’s wearing his sweater with the matching tiny hole. He wonders what Luhan’s doing on Christmas Eve and if his pajamas are warm enough for the New York winter. He wonders if Yura remembered her gloves for the outdoor show she’s play--
“Hey!”
Jongin waves at Chanyeol as he steps out of the rotating door. Underneath his puffy black coat Chanyeol can see the hood of his holey brown sweatshirt bunched around his neck. Jongin’s hair is a mess, like he rolled straight out of bed and walked to the subway station in his pjs. Chanyeol smiles faintly, then wider as Jongin bounds up the short stretch of stairs to tackle him in a tight hug.
“I thought you would never get here, brat! Do you know how late you are?”
“Only seven minutes, I think.” Jongin frowns, a thick lock of hair sliding into his eyes. Chanyeol pushes it back with a sweep of his thumb. Jongin bites his lip and ducks his head to dig around in his shoulder bag.
“Did you eat? You want a banana?” Chanyeol looks down at the yellow peel in Jongin’s brown hand. He licks his teeth and tastes soft banana, half chewed grains of rice, and sour stomach acid.
“I’m good! You better put that away before we get kicked out for harboring prohibited items!” Jongin rolls his eyes but slips his breakfast back into his bag. Chanyeol gives the bulging canvas tote a pat and heads for the information desk at the bottom of the stairs. He needs a signature from one of the docents on his proof of attendance slip. The woman behind the desk smiles at him in her navy uniform vest and hands Chanyeol a map before pulling out a pen to initial his paper.
“Hyung! Take my picture?” Chanyeol turns to see Jongin balancing on the stairs, waving with his phone. Chanyeol opens the camera app on his own phone just in time to capture Jongin’s gape of terror as he plunges off the edge of the top step. Chanyeol laughs as Jongin rises all red in the face and especially the ears because he knows Jongin’s not hurt, just mortified. Jongin pales a grayish white when something really hurts, like the tight pull of his strained back muscles after a long rehearsal.
Jongin scans the atrium to make sure no one witnessed his humiliation before slinking over to the counter to tuck his chin over Chanyeol’s shoulder. He’s got a few centimeters on Luhan, but somehow he fits right into Chanyeol’s side with the same familiar press.
“Hey, is your banana ok?” Chanyeol bumps their hips together.
“Fuck you!” Jongin groans, his breath hot in Chanyeol’s ear, before ducking his head in further embarrassment when he notices the smiling lady behind the counter. Chanyeol giggles, accepting the paper from her with a slight bow. She nods and straightens two white plastic plaques propped on counter advertising translation services available in English and Chinese. Chanyeol swallows down the sticky sourness that clings to his throat.
“Let’s go, I think the ceramics are on the third floor!” Chanyeol points up the stairs and Jongin nods.
“Did you at least get a good picture?” he whines, his forehead still pressed into the thick wool of Chanyeol’s coat.
“Yup!” Chanyeol grins, remembering Jongin’s ridiculously distorted face immortalized forever by the lens of his Galaxy. He pats his phone in his coat pocket and opens the spiral bound notebook tucked under his arm. He has to take “general observation notes” on a few of the pieces mentioned in their course text.
It doesn’t take them long to locate the ceramics on his worksheet. Chanyeol hurries to jot down the specifics from the informational cards in each display window, worried Jongin will get bored. Jongin fidgets a little, tugging at his zipper or the fringe edging Chanyeol’s muffler, but he narrows his eyes attentively whenever Chanyeol comments on a particularly interesting feature of an artifact.
In fact, Jongin proves to be such a captive audience that Chanyeol’s rambling has turned into a full blown tour by the time they exit the white porcelains room and end up in a gallery of buncheongsagi, an older couple examining a corner display turning to listen to Chanyeol’s enthusiastic narration.
“So why aren’t these considered white porcelain? They sure look white to me.” Jongin leans forward to blink at a drinking cup with a fluted lip.
“But buncheong isn’t made with porcelain at all! See?” Chanyeol gestures to a carefully pieced together vase in the next case. A few chunks of the slender neck are missing and the fired clay beneath the outer decorations is visible along the seams. “See where the glaze is cracking? The base material is that coarse gray stuff, not porcelain, right?” Jongin nods, his hair slipping into his eyes again. “The outer color is achieved by applying white slip before the glaze, and some of the pieces end up looking more gray than white.”
“White slip? Like how they glazed those green ones?” Jongin points back towards an alcove housing Buddhist ceremonial dishes from the Goryeo dynasty.
“Like the celadon, yeah,” Chanyeol nods. “Buncheong is basically the less refined version of that same technique.”
“So celadon was for royalty and this stuff was for commoners?” Jongin slides his bottom lip through his teeth until it blushes red, his gaze intent on Chanyeol as he questions.
“Actually no! Buncheong ware was used by members of all social classes, and a large percentage of it was manufactured for use by government officials. You see that stamp there, on that serving dish?” Chanyeol points to a large bowl with curling floral designs traced over the white in dark iron oxide. Jongin nods.
“Is that someone’s name? The owner’s?”
“Yup! How’d you get so smart, dongsaeng?” Chanyeol reaches up to ruffle his hair but Jongin slips under his arm, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor as he crosses the room with a split-legged leap. Chanyeol laughs and the ahjumma next to him smiles indulgently before taking her husband’s arm to guide him into the next room. Chanyeol wipes his mouth on his sleeve and moves on to admire a fat, short-necked vessel as Jongin drifts back to his side.
“That one looks like an aspirin tablet, one of the long ones!”
“Hehe, you’re right!” Technically it’s supposed to be the shape of a rice bale, but Chanyeol likes Jongin’s analogy better. “It’s a weird shape, but see how clear the color contrast is? Some later pieces like this were dipped in white slip, completely submerged to get that even coating.” Jongin nods, his breath fogging the glass as he yawns.
“I still think the green ones are prettier.”
“Manufacturers switched to buncheong out of necessity. During the Mongol invasion the ceramics industry had to focus on production rather than aesthetic, so this less time intensive process was developed. Did you know some of these pots are actually older pieces recycled with a buncheong style glaze?” Chanyeol turns in a circle on his heel, craning over his shoulder to locate Jongin. He’s slumped against the wall between two smaller display cases, his shoulders massaging the white paint as they shake in silent laughter. “What?” Chanyeol pouts, his lower lip curling.
“‘Aesthetic’? ‘Time intensive process’?” Jongin kicks the baseboard and hoots. “Hyung! You sound like a textbook, or a really stuffy old tour guide!”
“Shut up!” Chanyeol growls, his voice wavering on a note of laughter.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re actually enjoying this class!” Jongin smirks and Chanyeol can feel his face heating up. He unbuttons the collar of his coat, then undoes all the rest and shrugs off the damp wool.
“Does that mean you’re bored? Ready for lunch?”
“Do I look bored?” Jongin pushes off the wall, his gaze locked in Chanyeol’s as he advances. “It’s really nice to see you happy for once.”
“What?” Chanyeol fumbles with the loose knot of his muffler as Jongin comes to a stop in front of him, the tips of their sneakers barely touching at the toes. “Happy? Am I?”
“Yesss,” Jongin nods slowly, his smug grin relaxing into a tiny smile. Tiny like the hole in his sweatshirt. Tiny like the matching hole in Chanyeol’s coat pocket. Tiny like--
“Haven’t you been enjoying today? Enjoying all this?” Jongin unfurls his arm in a wide sweep around the room, curling back his wrist to finish with a wave between their chests.
“Yeah, I guess so. Huh.” Chanyeol steps back. His fingers are all tangled in the fringe of his scarf still tied around his neck and his other fingers are scraping the seam of his coat pocket, picking at the tiny, growing hole.
“Me too!” Jongin grins and tugs on the strings of his hoodie, crossing the fraying ties in a loose knot. “But if you’re hungry, I’d be willing to keep you company at lunch somewhere. As long as we eat at a chicken restaurant.”
“You little--!” Chanyeol makes a wide swing at Jongin’s head and he backs into the wall, laughing. Chanyeol tugs him up by the coat sleeve, the padded nylon slick in his sweaty fingers. “Come on, you! Chicken it is then.”
“Thanks for the tour, Ahjusshi~!”
“Aissh, you--!” Chanyeol clicks his tongue and hurries down the stairs, three at a time. At the bottom he turns back to make sure Jongin is in no danger of tumbling again as he follows, and doesn’t even notice the other museum patrons, or their partners.
The lady at the information desk smiles at them on their out the door and Chanyeol bestows her with his most charming grin, just because it’s Christmas. Jongin is right, he does feel happy. And chicken sounds just about perfect for today.
*****
On Wednesday Chanyeol wakes up to a message from Luhan: Get online. Chanyeol chuckles at the terse request and drags himself up with a groan. His phone buzzes again twice while he’s waiting for his desktop to load. Yeollie hurry up! Plzz.
Chanyeol logs in and gets an incoming call before all of the entries on his contacts list have a chance to load. It’s from an unknown number, the unfamiliar string of digits scrolling across his screen sending a pang of worry through his empty stomach. A chipmunk is gnawing on his ribcage and his brain is still foggy with wisps of unresolved dreams but he answers anyway.
“Chanyeol?” It’s Luhan, his voice husky and kind of out of breath, like he’s climbing stairs or talking into the wind.
“Hyung! Wh--”
“Chanyeol! Hi! I’m calling your Skype from my phone! Isn’t that awesome? Did you know you could do that?”
“Uh, yeah?” Chanyeol swallows a yawn. “Where’s your computer? Is something--”
“Chanyeol! Chanyeol guess what!”
“Santa brought you a pony for Christmas?” Chanyeol croaks. Luhan laughs, and Chanyeol’s internal rodent immediately curls up and goes to sleep.
“No, doofus! Where would I even keep a pony?” The line crackles a little but the lilt of Luhan’s voice is lovely regardless.
“Santa brought you a unicorn?”
“No! I’m in LA!” Luhan blurts, tremors of excitement bleeding into his voice. “We got a grant to do research! Isn’t that awesome? But I was on a plane yesterday, and then my phone died and I thought I lost my charger at the airport, so sorry I couldn’t call last night!”
“It’s ok,” Chanyeol says, and means it. “I went to bed early anyway.”
“Agh! Bed! You should feel how soft the huge fluffy bed is at our hotel here! I wish I could spend all week in it but I probably won’t get much sleep. Because, research!” Luhan giggles and Chanyeol giggles too. He’s missed excited Luhan.
“Research?” Chanyeol flexes his toes inside his fuzzy socks. “You mean running around in the streets taking selcas with graffiti?”
“Taking selcas with street art, Chanyeol! The official term is street art.”
“Street art, got it.” Chanyeol swallows around the dry lump in his throat. His glass is on the other side of the room, tauntingly full of cool water on the edge of the sink. “LA, huh? Isn’t that dangerous? Or do drive by shootings take off for the holidays, too?”
“I’ve been in America for four months now and I’ve never once seen a gun,” Luhan groans. “You sound like my mom! Don’t worry, stupid. We’ll be careful.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Chanyeol makes sure to keep his voice even and his tone light.
“Oh, me and Amber, didn’t I already say?”
“No.”
“She came along as my tour guide!” Luhan clears his throat with another light cough. “She’s from LA, you know, so she and her cousin are my official tour guides!”
“Great! I’m glad someone’s taking care of my idiot in my absence~!” Chanyeol teases and Luhan scoffs at having his own cheese quoted back at him.
“Well, we’re on the way to dinner now, but I can call you again from the hotel in a few hours. You know, with video.” Chanyeol groans and kicks at his comforter.
“I miss your face, hyung, I really do, but I have class. Don’t tempt me to skip it!”
“Oh,” Luhan says. “Oh yeah, I sort of forgot. How’s that going, bt dubs?”
“Good?” Chanyeol scratches his cheek where his rumpled pillowcase left indents while he slept. “I mean it’s not bad, for a super boring history class.”
“You got lucky, huh?” Luhan drawls. Underneath all the excitement he sounds kind of tired. Is LA far enough from New York to cause jet lag? Chanyeol can’t remember this early in the morning. “Why did you sign up for that class, anyway? If you’ve developed a sudden interest in ceramics, a hands on pottery making class sounds more your style.”
“Eheh! I’m not so sure of that!” Chanyeol winces, remembering the misshapen heap of coiled clay he tried to pass off as a vase in his middle school art class. He’s lucky they didn’t assign grades back in kindergarten, or he would have failed Intro to Playdough, too.
“Oh hey! We’re almost to the restaurant now, I should go.”
“Aww! Ok,” Chanyeol sighs. His face still itches. “Thanks for calling, hyung! Don’t forget to send me a Disney World magnet!”
“It’s Disneyland, dumbass!” Luhan snorts. “Disney World’s in Florida. Why do I even put up with you?”
“Because I’m amazing and you loooove me!”
“You wish! Oh, hang on Yeol.” The wind crackles through the speakers and Luhan says something in Mandarin. The only part Chanyeol catches is Amber’s name.
“Hey, uh, Merry Christmas!” someone says. It’s a girl’s voice, but it’s not much higher than Luhan’s.
“Uh, me too? You too?” Chanyeol fumbles in clumsy tongued English, blushing when Amber laughs and says a quick goodbye.
“Hanging up now!” Luhan says over a gust of wind -- or maybe it’s traffic noises, come to think of it. “Don’t be late for class!”
“Ok, bye!”
After Luhan hangs up Chanyeol showers, buttons on his coat, and goes to class. And then he heads to the studio to wait for Jongin, as per usual. That’s pretty much how the rest of the week goes.
“So are you officially moving into the lobby as soon as your lease is up?” Krystal teases when she catches Chanyeol napping on the patchy orange sofa for the third day in a row. It’s Friday, and he has to go home soon for the holiday on Monday. “We should make you our little mascot or something, put you in the corner of our next playbill!”
Chanyeol laughs nervously and rubs a hand through his hair. It’s probably sticking up at odd angles. The velveteen upholstery makes it all staticy and he really needs a haircut. Yura’s probably going to yell at him and drag him to her salon next week, if she doesn’t chase him around the kitchen with a pair of scissors threatening to do it herself.
“He’s not little, noona.” Jongin strolls around the corner with his arms folded across the strap of his shoulder bag. His hair is sweaty and tousled and matches Chanyeol’s. “Did you forget what twenty centimeters looks like? ‘Cause that’s how much he’s got on you!”
“Only 18!” Krystal snarls, then snaps her jaw shut and rolls her eyes like she doesn’t care. “Scoot over, Park.” She kicks at the cracking leather of his boot. “At least share the sofa while I wait for Taeyeon unni!”
“Sorry!” Chanyeol slides to the left and leans over the armrest in search of his hat. It’s on the floor, just out of reach.
“Is noona past her curfew on her date with Minseok hyung?” Jongin waggles his eyebrows and kicks Chanyeol’s hat further out of reach. The brim hits the radiator pipe and spins to a stop, the LA Dodgers logo obscured in shadow.
“Ugh! Young love is so disgusting these days!” Krystal shivers her shoulders.
“Tell me about it!” Jongin moans. He’s the one who gets stuck listening to Minseok’s romantic highs and lows while Yixing’s out of town.
“Jongie!” Chanyeol whines in the back of his throat and makes grabby hands at his hat. Jongin ignores him but leans his hip into Chanyeol’s shoulder, scratching his fingertips into Chanyeol’s messy hair.
“Ick! You two are just as bad!” Krystal complains, scooting all the way to the far armrest. “Chanyeol’s here more than Minseok oppa. You guys might as well be dating.” She taps her nails against her bedazzled phone case. Jongin’s fingers still on Chanyeol’s scalp.
“But Chanyeol hyung is…” Chanyeol’s gaze cuts from Krystal’s bored yawn to Jongin’s profile, but Jongin’s already distracted with something on his phone.
“I do love Jonginnie, but I’m already spoken for!” Chanyeol laughs and wriggles on the saggy cushion. His left foot’s all tingly from falling asleep.
“Just sayin’.” Krystal crosses her legs and jiggles her loosely tied hi-top on her skinny ankle. “Don’t get all bent out of shape.”
“Come on hyung, you ready?” Jongin pockets his phone and stoops to retrieve the hat. He plops it on Chanyeol’s head, brim to the side, and the band pushes Chanyeol’s overgrown fringe down over his eyes like an itchy blindfold.
“Uh huh!” Chanyeol tips his head back and bares his teeth at the ceiling in a gasping yawn.
“Eww! Get your fat butts out of here and don’t come back ‘til Tuesday!” Krystal waves them off with a derisive flick of her long purple fingernails.
“What’s on Tuesday?” Chanyeol mumbles to Jongin as they stumble to the door. Chanyeol’s left foot is still half asleep in his boot.
“I dunno.” Jongin rolls his shoulders in a fluid shrug as he adjusts the hang of his bag. “It’s noona’s new catchphrase, don’t ask what her nonsense is supposed to mean.” He flashes her a smug grin over his shoulder as he tugs Chanyeol’s muffler into place. “You should wear a warmer hat when it’s this cold out!” Jongin taps the brim with two fingers, ignoring Krystal’s shriek of indignation as the glass door swings shut behind them.
(part five here) (part seven here)
Pairings/Characters: Chanyeol/Luhan
Rating/Warnings: T for language and (eventual) making out
Disclaimer: I own nothing; written just for fun
Summary: Luhan leaves for a study abroad semester in NY and leaves Chanyeol behind. Basically, without Luhan smiling at him everything about Chanyeol's life sucks just that much worse.
A/N: Originally written for lj user riseandrain at the yeolliepopday exchange. Also, some theme music and the song that kept me going.
Chanyeol tries to tell himself it wouldn’t be so bad, going to a museum alone, since it’s for an assignment after all. But Chanyeol knows that browsing exhibits is generally a couple activity, unless you happen to be a grade school student or parent chaperone on a class tour, and Chanyeol also knows for a fact that no schools are in session on the 25th.
That means Chanyeol will be walking straight into Lovey Dovey Zone on the biggest romantic holiday of the year excepting Valentine’s, unarmed and alone and very, very vulnerable. It makes him slightly sick just thinking about it. He can already picture several awkward scenarios if he were to run into someone he knows, out on a date, and just no. Not happening.
Since he can’t drag Luhan with him, Chanyeol’s options are rather limited. Baekhyun and Minseok both have dates, Kris and Yixing are out of the country for the next few weeks, and Kyungsoo is watering hanging plants and making radish kimchi at his aunt’s. That leaves Jongin and Jongdae. Jongin might come along if free food was involved, but Chanyeol hadn’t even seen him yesterday when he went looking for him in the studio. Most of the company dancers still have daily classes, break or no break, but only Sehun had been around yesterday to inform Chanyeol that the ballet people were off campus for some special master class.
So here Chanyeol is at the library on Christmas Eve, languishing on a hard chair in the back of the reference section and barricaded behind a wall of thick color catalogues. He’s spent all morning sifting through page after page of incense burners and urns and water jars, and oh--most exciting of all!--the unidentified fragments section in the back of The Complete Illustrated Guide to Gaya Artifacts. Chanyeol is dateless, friendless, and silently suffering from a ceramics induced headache. It’s not even 2 PM on the 24th and Chanyeol already hates Christmas.
“Chanyeol hyung?”
Chanyeol jerks at the breathy whisper, his elbow knocking the Illustrated Guide to the floor. It lands on the threadbare carpet with a thud. An invisible miasma of ancient dust tickles Chanyeol’s nostrils and someone coughs.
“Jonginnie? What are you doing here?” Chanyeol says, then sneezes.
“That’s what I was gonna ask you! You’re a hard man to find, Park Chanyeol.” Jongin slings his backpack onto the chair opposite Chanyeol’s and folds his arms across his chest.
“Not really!” Chanyeol is wearing a red sweatshirt with a broken zipper that jingles, has on his old, squeaky sneakers, and he can’t even cry quietly.
“I had to call and interrupt Minseokkie hyung’s date to know where to come find you!” Jongin makes quote marks in the air with his fingers, then sinks them into the hand warmer on the front of his hoodie.
“I thought his date was tomorrow.”
“Well, apparently he has two.” Jongin snorts.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Chanyeol tries to sound nonchalant, fingering the cracking binding of Joseon National Treasures: Porcelain Edition. Maybe if he introduces his proposal by starting with restaurant names, Jongin will be so focused on the prospect of food he won’t even notice the word “museum” in there.
“Nothing.” Jongin drops his gaze to the floor. His fingers worm inside his pocket. “That’s why I came to find you. Minseok hyung said something about a field trip?”
“Huh?” The stitching in the left corner of Jongin’s front pocket is coming loose, and there’s a tiny hole just above.
“The National Museum?” Jongin looks up again and his cheeks are tinged with pink. He’s wearing too many clothes under his jacket again; he must have just come from class.
“Oh, yeah. Why, did you want to come?” Chanyeol unzips his jacket and fans himself with the hem of his shirt. Just watching Jongin sweat in this stale air is making him uncomfortably warm.
“Well, I don’t have anything else going on.”
“You don’t have rehearsal?” Chanyeol starts rearranging the stacks of books in front of him, in no particular order.
“Not on Christmas.” Jongin licks his lips, kicks at the table leg. “So if you wanted... company…”
“One National Museum ticket! Sold! To the dongsaeng in the holey sweatshirt!” Chanyeol slams a heavy catalogue shut with his fist.
“The museum is free, hyung. And my clothes do not have hooooles!” Jongin whines, dragging his feet against the carpet.
“Then what do you call this? Huh?” Chanyeol wiggles his finger through the gap above the pocket, tickling Jongin’s tummy through his T-shirt.
“H-hey! Stop it!” Jongin laughs, his breath hitching as he writhes away. Chanyeol stands to grab his bag, sucking in his gut to squeeze out of the corner.
“Did you have lunch?”
“No, but I gotta run, my sister’s in town.” Chanyeol nods, turning his phone in his jeans pocket. “But I’ll see you tomorrow? In Yongsan?”
“Ok.” Chanyeol swallows, his throat all dry from the heater. “Tomorrow at 10:00?”
“You have yourself a date!” Jongin winks, flipping his thick shock of hair back from his forehead and matching Chanyeol’s eager grin with a lazy one.
Chanyeol sits back down to read through comparisons of kiln structures but his head feels much better now. So does his heart, maybe.
******
Chanyeol gets to the museum early, like twenty minutes early, so he takes his time walking through the grounds, past the reflection pool and up the wide granite stairs to the glass bubble of the front entrance. It’s windy and starting to blow fine needles of ice so Chanyeol pushes through the side door to wait on the steps inside.
As expected, almost no one else enters the museum alone while Chanyeol watches anxiously from the side. Most of the visitors wander in in pairs, women Taeyeon noona’s age in collared jackets, fluffy skirts, and heeled boots prancing by with boyfriends in ugly snowflake sweaters and plaid scarves, or high school kids in matching outfits of ripped jeans and flannel button downs. A few couples are pushing strollers or dragging an older child along by the arm, but no one lingers in the entryway, just strolls by Chanyeol with a brief glance or none at all.
Chanyeol checks the time on his phone. Jongin’s a bit late, but that’s not unusual. He considers texting Jongin just to make sure he’s out of bed and on the way, but settles for sending a message to Luhan.
Merry christmas hyung! <3 !
Hope youre stayng warm thinking of me~!
He slides his phone into the front of his coat and pokes at the tiny hole in the corner of the pocket. He wonders if Jongin’s wearing his sweater with the matching tiny hole. He wonders what Luhan’s doing on Christmas Eve and if his pajamas are warm enough for the New York winter. He wonders if Yura remembered her gloves for the outdoor show she’s play--
“Hey!”
Jongin waves at Chanyeol as he steps out of the rotating door. Underneath his puffy black coat Chanyeol can see the hood of his holey brown sweatshirt bunched around his neck. Jongin’s hair is a mess, like he rolled straight out of bed and walked to the subway station in his pjs. Chanyeol smiles faintly, then wider as Jongin bounds up the short stretch of stairs to tackle him in a tight hug.
“I thought you would never get here, brat! Do you know how late you are?”
“Only seven minutes, I think.” Jongin frowns, a thick lock of hair sliding into his eyes. Chanyeol pushes it back with a sweep of his thumb. Jongin bites his lip and ducks his head to dig around in his shoulder bag.
“Did you eat? You want a banana?” Chanyeol looks down at the yellow peel in Jongin’s brown hand. He licks his teeth and tastes soft banana, half chewed grains of rice, and sour stomach acid.
“I’m good! You better put that away before we get kicked out for harboring prohibited items!” Jongin rolls his eyes but slips his breakfast back into his bag. Chanyeol gives the bulging canvas tote a pat and heads for the information desk at the bottom of the stairs. He needs a signature from one of the docents on his proof of attendance slip. The woman behind the desk smiles at him in her navy uniform vest and hands Chanyeol a map before pulling out a pen to initial his paper.
“Hyung! Take my picture?” Chanyeol turns to see Jongin balancing on the stairs, waving with his phone. Chanyeol opens the camera app on his own phone just in time to capture Jongin’s gape of terror as he plunges off the edge of the top step. Chanyeol laughs as Jongin rises all red in the face and especially the ears because he knows Jongin’s not hurt, just mortified. Jongin pales a grayish white when something really hurts, like the tight pull of his strained back muscles after a long rehearsal.
Jongin scans the atrium to make sure no one witnessed his humiliation before slinking over to the counter to tuck his chin over Chanyeol’s shoulder. He’s got a few centimeters on Luhan, but somehow he fits right into Chanyeol’s side with the same familiar press.
“Hey, is your banana ok?” Chanyeol bumps their hips together.
“Fuck you!” Jongin groans, his breath hot in Chanyeol’s ear, before ducking his head in further embarrassment when he notices the smiling lady behind the counter. Chanyeol giggles, accepting the paper from her with a slight bow. She nods and straightens two white plastic plaques propped on counter advertising translation services available in English and Chinese. Chanyeol swallows down the sticky sourness that clings to his throat.
“Let’s go, I think the ceramics are on the third floor!” Chanyeol points up the stairs and Jongin nods.
“Did you at least get a good picture?” he whines, his forehead still pressed into the thick wool of Chanyeol’s coat.
“Yup!” Chanyeol grins, remembering Jongin’s ridiculously distorted face immortalized forever by the lens of his Galaxy. He pats his phone in his coat pocket and opens the spiral bound notebook tucked under his arm. He has to take “general observation notes” on a few of the pieces mentioned in their course text.
It doesn’t take them long to locate the ceramics on his worksheet. Chanyeol hurries to jot down the specifics from the informational cards in each display window, worried Jongin will get bored. Jongin fidgets a little, tugging at his zipper or the fringe edging Chanyeol’s muffler, but he narrows his eyes attentively whenever Chanyeol comments on a particularly interesting feature of an artifact.
In fact, Jongin proves to be such a captive audience that Chanyeol’s rambling has turned into a full blown tour by the time they exit the white porcelains room and end up in a gallery of buncheongsagi, an older couple examining a corner display turning to listen to Chanyeol’s enthusiastic narration.
“So why aren’t these considered white porcelain? They sure look white to me.” Jongin leans forward to blink at a drinking cup with a fluted lip.
“But buncheong isn’t made with porcelain at all! See?” Chanyeol gestures to a carefully pieced together vase in the next case. A few chunks of the slender neck are missing and the fired clay beneath the outer decorations is visible along the seams. “See where the glaze is cracking? The base material is that coarse gray stuff, not porcelain, right?” Jongin nods, his hair slipping into his eyes again. “The outer color is achieved by applying white slip before the glaze, and some of the pieces end up looking more gray than white.”
“White slip? Like how they glazed those green ones?” Jongin points back towards an alcove housing Buddhist ceremonial dishes from the Goryeo dynasty.
“Like the celadon, yeah,” Chanyeol nods. “Buncheong is basically the less refined version of that same technique.”
“So celadon was for royalty and this stuff was for commoners?” Jongin slides his bottom lip through his teeth until it blushes red, his gaze intent on Chanyeol as he questions.
“Actually no! Buncheong ware was used by members of all social classes, and a large percentage of it was manufactured for use by government officials. You see that stamp there, on that serving dish?” Chanyeol points to a large bowl with curling floral designs traced over the white in dark iron oxide. Jongin nods.
“Is that someone’s name? The owner’s?”
“Yup! How’d you get so smart, dongsaeng?” Chanyeol reaches up to ruffle his hair but Jongin slips under his arm, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor as he crosses the room with a split-legged leap. Chanyeol laughs and the ahjumma next to him smiles indulgently before taking her husband’s arm to guide him into the next room. Chanyeol wipes his mouth on his sleeve and moves on to admire a fat, short-necked vessel as Jongin drifts back to his side.
“That one looks like an aspirin tablet, one of the long ones!”
“Hehe, you’re right!” Technically it’s supposed to be the shape of a rice bale, but Chanyeol likes Jongin’s analogy better. “It’s a weird shape, but see how clear the color contrast is? Some later pieces like this were dipped in white slip, completely submerged to get that even coating.” Jongin nods, his breath fogging the glass as he yawns.
“I still think the green ones are prettier.”
“Manufacturers switched to buncheong out of necessity. During the Mongol invasion the ceramics industry had to focus on production rather than aesthetic, so this less time intensive process was developed. Did you know some of these pots are actually older pieces recycled with a buncheong style glaze?” Chanyeol turns in a circle on his heel, craning over his shoulder to locate Jongin. He’s slumped against the wall between two smaller display cases, his shoulders massaging the white paint as they shake in silent laughter. “What?” Chanyeol pouts, his lower lip curling.
“‘Aesthetic’? ‘Time intensive process’?” Jongin kicks the baseboard and hoots. “Hyung! You sound like a textbook, or a really stuffy old tour guide!”
“Shut up!” Chanyeol growls, his voice wavering on a note of laughter.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re actually enjoying this class!” Jongin smirks and Chanyeol can feel his face heating up. He unbuttons the collar of his coat, then undoes all the rest and shrugs off the damp wool.
“Does that mean you’re bored? Ready for lunch?”
“Do I look bored?” Jongin pushes off the wall, his gaze locked in Chanyeol’s as he advances. “It’s really nice to see you happy for once.”
“What?” Chanyeol fumbles with the loose knot of his muffler as Jongin comes to a stop in front of him, the tips of their sneakers barely touching at the toes. “Happy? Am I?”
“Yesss,” Jongin nods slowly, his smug grin relaxing into a tiny smile. Tiny like the hole in his sweatshirt. Tiny like the matching hole in Chanyeol’s coat pocket. Tiny like--
“Haven’t you been enjoying today? Enjoying all this?” Jongin unfurls his arm in a wide sweep around the room, curling back his wrist to finish with a wave between their chests.
“Yeah, I guess so. Huh.” Chanyeol steps back. His fingers are all tangled in the fringe of his scarf still tied around his neck and his other fingers are scraping the seam of his coat pocket, picking at the tiny, growing hole.
“Me too!” Jongin grins and tugs on the strings of his hoodie, crossing the fraying ties in a loose knot. “But if you’re hungry, I’d be willing to keep you company at lunch somewhere. As long as we eat at a chicken restaurant.”
“You little--!” Chanyeol makes a wide swing at Jongin’s head and he backs into the wall, laughing. Chanyeol tugs him up by the coat sleeve, the padded nylon slick in his sweaty fingers. “Come on, you! Chicken it is then.”
“Thanks for the tour, Ahjusshi~!”
“Aissh, you--!” Chanyeol clicks his tongue and hurries down the stairs, three at a time. At the bottom he turns back to make sure Jongin is in no danger of tumbling again as he follows, and doesn’t even notice the other museum patrons, or their partners.
The lady at the information desk smiles at them on their out the door and Chanyeol bestows her with his most charming grin, just because it’s Christmas. Jongin is right, he does feel happy. And chicken sounds just about perfect for today.
*****
On Wednesday Chanyeol wakes up to a message from Luhan: Get online. Chanyeol chuckles at the terse request and drags himself up with a groan. His phone buzzes again twice while he’s waiting for his desktop to load. Yeollie hurry up! Plzz.
Chanyeol logs in and gets an incoming call before all of the entries on his contacts list have a chance to load. It’s from an unknown number, the unfamiliar string of digits scrolling across his screen sending a pang of worry through his empty stomach. A chipmunk is gnawing on his ribcage and his brain is still foggy with wisps of unresolved dreams but he answers anyway.
“Chanyeol?” It’s Luhan, his voice husky and kind of out of breath, like he’s climbing stairs or talking into the wind.
“Hyung! Wh--”
“Chanyeol! Hi! I’m calling your Skype from my phone! Isn’t that awesome? Did you know you could do that?”
“Uh, yeah?” Chanyeol swallows a yawn. “Where’s your computer? Is something--”
“Chanyeol! Chanyeol guess what!”
“Santa brought you a pony for Christmas?” Chanyeol croaks. Luhan laughs, and Chanyeol’s internal rodent immediately curls up and goes to sleep.
“No, doofus! Where would I even keep a pony?” The line crackles a little but the lilt of Luhan’s voice is lovely regardless.
“Santa brought you a unicorn?”
“No! I’m in LA!” Luhan blurts, tremors of excitement bleeding into his voice. “We got a grant to do research! Isn’t that awesome? But I was on a plane yesterday, and then my phone died and I thought I lost my charger at the airport, so sorry I couldn’t call last night!”
“It’s ok,” Chanyeol says, and means it. “I went to bed early anyway.”
“Agh! Bed! You should feel how soft the huge fluffy bed is at our hotel here! I wish I could spend all week in it but I probably won’t get much sleep. Because, research!” Luhan giggles and Chanyeol giggles too. He’s missed excited Luhan.
“Research?” Chanyeol flexes his toes inside his fuzzy socks. “You mean running around in the streets taking selcas with graffiti?”
“Taking selcas with street art, Chanyeol! The official term is street art.”
“Street art, got it.” Chanyeol swallows around the dry lump in his throat. His glass is on the other side of the room, tauntingly full of cool water on the edge of the sink. “LA, huh? Isn’t that dangerous? Or do drive by shootings take off for the holidays, too?”
“I’ve been in America for four months now and I’ve never once seen a gun,” Luhan groans. “You sound like my mom! Don’t worry, stupid. We’ll be careful.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Chanyeol makes sure to keep his voice even and his tone light.
“Oh, me and Amber, didn’t I already say?”
“No.”
“She came along as my tour guide!” Luhan clears his throat with another light cough. “She’s from LA, you know, so she and her cousin are my official tour guides!”
“Great! I’m glad someone’s taking care of my idiot in my absence~!” Chanyeol teases and Luhan scoffs at having his own cheese quoted back at him.
“Well, we’re on the way to dinner now, but I can call you again from the hotel in a few hours. You know, with video.” Chanyeol groans and kicks at his comforter.
“I miss your face, hyung, I really do, but I have class. Don’t tempt me to skip it!”
“Oh,” Luhan says. “Oh yeah, I sort of forgot. How’s that going, bt dubs?”
“Good?” Chanyeol scratches his cheek where his rumpled pillowcase left indents while he slept. “I mean it’s not bad, for a super boring history class.”
“You got lucky, huh?” Luhan drawls. Underneath all the excitement he sounds kind of tired. Is LA far enough from New York to cause jet lag? Chanyeol can’t remember this early in the morning. “Why did you sign up for that class, anyway? If you’ve developed a sudden interest in ceramics, a hands on pottery making class sounds more your style.”
“Eheh! I’m not so sure of that!” Chanyeol winces, remembering the misshapen heap of coiled clay he tried to pass off as a vase in his middle school art class. He’s lucky they didn’t assign grades back in kindergarten, or he would have failed Intro to Playdough, too.
“Oh hey! We’re almost to the restaurant now, I should go.”
“Aww! Ok,” Chanyeol sighs. His face still itches. “Thanks for calling, hyung! Don’t forget to send me a Disney World magnet!”
“It’s Disneyland, dumbass!” Luhan snorts. “Disney World’s in Florida. Why do I even put up with you?”
“Because I’m amazing and you loooove me!”
“You wish! Oh, hang on Yeol.” The wind crackles through the speakers and Luhan says something in Mandarin. The only part Chanyeol catches is Amber’s name.
“Hey, uh, Merry Christmas!” someone says. It’s a girl’s voice, but it’s not much higher than Luhan’s.
“Uh, me too? You too?” Chanyeol fumbles in clumsy tongued English, blushing when Amber laughs and says a quick goodbye.
“Hanging up now!” Luhan says over a gust of wind -- or maybe it’s traffic noises, come to think of it. “Don’t be late for class!”
“Ok, bye!”
After Luhan hangs up Chanyeol showers, buttons on his coat, and goes to class. And then he heads to the studio to wait for Jongin, as per usual. That’s pretty much how the rest of the week goes.
“So are you officially moving into the lobby as soon as your lease is up?” Krystal teases when she catches Chanyeol napping on the patchy orange sofa for the third day in a row. It’s Friday, and he has to go home soon for the holiday on Monday. “We should make you our little mascot or something, put you in the corner of our next playbill!”
Chanyeol laughs nervously and rubs a hand through his hair. It’s probably sticking up at odd angles. The velveteen upholstery makes it all staticy and he really needs a haircut. Yura’s probably going to yell at him and drag him to her salon next week, if she doesn’t chase him around the kitchen with a pair of scissors threatening to do it herself.
“He’s not little, noona.” Jongin strolls around the corner with his arms folded across the strap of his shoulder bag. His hair is sweaty and tousled and matches Chanyeol’s. “Did you forget what twenty centimeters looks like? ‘Cause that’s how much he’s got on you!”
“Only 18!” Krystal snarls, then snaps her jaw shut and rolls her eyes like she doesn’t care. “Scoot over, Park.” She kicks at the cracking leather of his boot. “At least share the sofa while I wait for Taeyeon unni!”
“Sorry!” Chanyeol slides to the left and leans over the armrest in search of his hat. It’s on the floor, just out of reach.
“Is noona past her curfew on her date with Minseok hyung?” Jongin waggles his eyebrows and kicks Chanyeol’s hat further out of reach. The brim hits the radiator pipe and spins to a stop, the LA Dodgers logo obscured in shadow.
“Ugh! Young love is so disgusting these days!” Krystal shivers her shoulders.
“Tell me about it!” Jongin moans. He’s the one who gets stuck listening to Minseok’s romantic highs and lows while Yixing’s out of town.
“Jongie!” Chanyeol whines in the back of his throat and makes grabby hands at his hat. Jongin ignores him but leans his hip into Chanyeol’s shoulder, scratching his fingertips into Chanyeol’s messy hair.
“Ick! You two are just as bad!” Krystal complains, scooting all the way to the far armrest. “Chanyeol’s here more than Minseok oppa. You guys might as well be dating.” She taps her nails against her bedazzled phone case. Jongin’s fingers still on Chanyeol’s scalp.
“But Chanyeol hyung is…” Chanyeol’s gaze cuts from Krystal’s bored yawn to Jongin’s profile, but Jongin’s already distracted with something on his phone.
“I do love Jonginnie, but I’m already spoken for!” Chanyeol laughs and wriggles on the saggy cushion. His left foot’s all tingly from falling asleep.
“Just sayin’.” Krystal crosses her legs and jiggles her loosely tied hi-top on her skinny ankle. “Don’t get all bent out of shape.”
“Come on hyung, you ready?” Jongin pockets his phone and stoops to retrieve the hat. He plops it on Chanyeol’s head, brim to the side, and the band pushes Chanyeol’s overgrown fringe down over his eyes like an itchy blindfold.
“Uh huh!” Chanyeol tips his head back and bares his teeth at the ceiling in a gasping yawn.
“Eww! Get your fat butts out of here and don’t come back ‘til Tuesday!” Krystal waves them off with a derisive flick of her long purple fingernails.
“What’s on Tuesday?” Chanyeol mumbles to Jongin as they stumble to the door. Chanyeol’s left foot is still half asleep in his boot.
“I dunno.” Jongin rolls his shoulders in a fluid shrug as he adjusts the hang of his bag. “It’s noona’s new catchphrase, don’t ask what her nonsense is supposed to mean.” He flashes her a smug grin over his shoulder as he tugs Chanyeol’s muffler into place. “You should wear a warmer hat when it’s this cold out!” Jongin taps the brim with two fingers, ignoring Krystal’s shriek of indignation as the glass door swings shut behind them.
(part five here) (part seven here)