"we are good"; "很好"; 2/4
★
“This is Jongin.” Come Saturday, Chanyeol introduces his friend to Lu Han, who frowns and doesn’t extend a hand. But Jongin grabs his hand anyway and starts shaking it. “Nice to meet you, too.” He dispenses a lazy smile. Taken aback, Lu Han swiftly withdraws his hand and walks away.
“And this is Lu Han.” Chanyeol continues to introduce the now empty space beside him.
“Thank you,” Jongin whispers to Chanyeol before he follows closely behind Lu Han. Chanyeol nods solemnly. “You’re welcome.” Bless you, Lu Han, bless you.
Yifan appears amused by this. “You scheming little-“
“-handsome fella,” Chanyeol finishes for him. “Now, where’s the class?”
★
Chanyeol is about to die. There are paper cuts on his hand, a toddler in his lap, and another who’s smearing glue all over his right forearm.
“Noona,” the tiny dude who’s spreading the glue on his arm says, “Hyunjoon! Four years old!”
WHO THE FUCK CARES, Chanyeol wants to scream. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, while he gently pries four-year-old hands off himself, “Hyunjoon-ah, it’s hyung.” Hyunjoon ignores him and starts planting sequins onto Chanyeol’s sad arm.
“Unnie, look!” The cute little girl in his lap waves a disfigured piece of paper frog in Chanyeol’s face. Chanyeol refuses to look because he’s freaking pissed at her. He is one hundred and eighty-fucking-five centimeters of pure male testosterone, ok, let’s be clear on that. “Excuse you,” Chanyeol whispers darkly, “a lot of your unnies would want to sit on my lap.”
Unfortunately, at the moment, his precious lap-space is wasted on an unappreciative five year old.
“Har?”
“Let unnie show you how to fold the frog, Minjing-ah,” Chanyeol smiles sweetly and produces a really ugly blue frog (read: paper pulp) with his clumsy fingers. Hyunjoon slaps it with his palm until it dies a flat death on the low pink plastic table they’re seated at.
Chanyeol looks over to Jongin but he is enjoying himself with Lu Han at the next table, holding his hands and teaching him how to fold a crane. Actually, Chanyeol is mistaken. In fact, Lu Han is pushing Jongin’s hands away with the minimum amount of violence toddlers are allowed to be exposed to and Jongin is taking advantage of it by showering him with the maximum amount of skinship toddlers are allowed to be exposed to. They seem lovey-dovey anyway.
Chanyeol dry sobs. The world is a cold and cruel place.
The origami class is held in the center of the bookstore where there’s space - just wide enough for four of those low tables - reserved for autograph sessions and events like this. With people to take care of their kids, the parents are only too happy to go off on their own for a bit of shopping. This means extra care has to be taken to ensure the kids stay safe. Yifan has just finished making his rounds to all the small plastic tables, making sure that there’s nothing sharp or dangerous near the children, and he now sits beside Chanyeol. Usually, Chanyeol would have laughed at how ridiculous Yifan looks sitting in the tiny plastic pink chair, but he’s pretty miserable now.
“Save me or at least die with me,” Chanyeol pleads with Yifan, who snickers and takes Minjing from his lap. The girl is only too happy to go when she sees the perfect frog Yifan folds for her. Little unnie traitor. Chanyeol side-eyes Minjing. He side-eyes her hard.
“For you,” Yifan slides a paper heart over to him. “Hearts are supposed to be pink.” Chanyeol takes the heart and flips it over.
“Mine’s green,” Yifan says lightly and smiles at Chanyeol. It’s a full-fledged smile, showing the upper row of Yifan’s teeth, and Chanyeol has to bite his lower lip because he’s flushing so much. Then he sees the two lines scribbled at the back of the heart.
when sunbeams shine on the sea, i think of you
when misty moon rays scatter on spring waters, i think of you
When Chanyeol lifts his head up, Yifan is still smiling at him. This time, Chanyeol smiles back.
★
After work ends in the evening, Yifan sits on the bench in the bookstore and helps Chanyeol peel the dried glue off his arms. This act is accompanied by occasional yelps from Chanyeol as his arm hair comes off as well with the layer of glue.
Lu Han hangs around in the background looking extremely bored. “Yifan, can we go already?”
At this, Chanyeol puffs his cheeks out and shoots expectant coy looks at Yifan. A ghost of a smile slithers across Yifan’s face. “Why don’t you go home first? I’ll send Chanyeol back.”
Lu Han’s jaw goes slack. This is the first time that Yifan has failed to indulge him. He turns narrowed eyes at Chanyeol who only sticks his lower lip out at him.
“Don’t be jealous. I can send you home.” Indignant, Lu Han twirls around and snaps at Jongin, “I’m not jealous!”
But all Jongin says is, “I can hold your hand, too.” And he reaches out for Lu Han’s hand, squeezing it for a moment before lacing their fingers together and beaming up at him. Wordlessly, Lu Han stares at their linked hands and then at Jongin’s eyes, all bent into thin crescents. He is rendered speechless. This is the first time in his life that he has met someone as shamel- more shameless than he is.
Another shrill yelp from Chanyeol shakes Lu Han from his stupor. He slaps Jongin’s hand away, feeling his annoyance rise another level when Jongin remarks, “You look so pretty when you’re angry.”
“Lu Han hates it when people call him pretty,” Yifan says lowly. Upon his words, Chanyeol’s head swivels back to marvel at the show unraveling in front of him. True enough, Lu Han has stalked right up to Jongin, anger resounding in every step he clears, until he is in Jongin's face, breath darting across Jongin's cheek when he speaks, “How dare yo-“
“If you get any closer, I’ll have to kiss you.” And Lu Han leaps back, more agile than he has ever been his entire life, anger withered down to sheer outrage. This is another first. Tonight has seen too many firsts, which is more than what Lu Han can handle. Stupefied, he blinks twice at Jongin before he turns around and, there’s no other word for this, flees.
Jongin winks at Chanyeol before he gives chase.
“Is Lu Han going to be ok?” Yifan asks, peeling yet another patch of dried glue from his arm.
Chanyeol’s answer is exceedingly simple but satisfying. “Jongin is a good person.” There is so much sincerity in his voice that Yifan looks up at him. “He will be good to Lu Han.” Yifan hears the pride, firm and steely in Chanyeol’s voice when he vouches for his friend and that’s enough.
“I look forward to the day when someone finally subdues that imp.” Smiling, Yifan stands up. He blocks off the light so that it fans out around the crown of his head and Chanyeol has to squint so that he can look into his face. Yifan extends a hand to Chanyeol. “Come on.” His smile beckons like a charm. Mesmerized, Chanyeol reaches out. With his entire being, he wishes all of this were tangible so he could hold them, gladly suffer the reassuring burden of their weight in his arms and make everything seem more real. The future he hasn’t cast a thought upon now has a shape.
In the moment when Chanyeol’s hand finds Yifan’s, he believes he will go wherever Yifan leads him.
★
But Yifan just leads him out of the wrong exit of the bookstore and Chanyeol has to right him before they embark on the way to Chanyeol’s place.
The bricked path that winds up to Chanyeol’s house is dark and lonely. The dimly lit streetlights do little to shed light and in a way, Chanyeol is glad for the shield of darkness. But glad is hardly the right word to describe Chanyeol right now.
As usual, Chanyeol is fidgety when Yifan is near. His fingers twitch when Yifan holds his hand. As if he wants to let go. So Yifan releases his grip but then Chanyeol looks at him all shocked, as if he cannot believe Yifan has let go of him just like that.
“Do you want me to hold your hand or not?” sighs Yifan. A grin lounges at the edges of his eyes but it’s too dark for Chanyeol to see. So he can only stare at the silhouette of Yifan’s profile as he walks by his side.
Chanyeol is caught between wanting to die and wanting Yifan to hold his hand, actually. Or maybe, Yifan could hold his dying hand. He tries to say, ‘Yes, I would like you to hold my hand, if it isn't too much trouble,’ but really, what happens is just more of those cute lip shapes thing he’s so prone to. Chanyeol is beyond the ability of speech.
The moonlight casts obscure shadows on Chanyeol’s face so Yifan can only make out half of his mortification. Chuckling lowly, Yifan twines his fingers back around Chanyeol’s. “How am I going to kiss you, Chanyeol? If you’re always so flustered around me?”
Chanyeol trips over absolutely flat ground at his words and hears the ring of Yifan’s barely suppressed laugh. Unsteady and inebriated. But that’s alright. One shouldn’t be looking at the ground if he’s planning to fall anyway. All he needs to do now is to miss a step. Miss a step and start flying.
His pulse quickens and sends a flush of red flooding up his neck. Each beat is now heavy with the drag of anticipation. The yearning to be near is suddenly overwhelming. Space becomes an unforgivable notion.
Teasingly, Yifan stops and tugs on Chanyeol’s hand. They pause beneath a street lamp. When Yifan bends forward, Chanyeol’s lids flutter shut and he waits. Nothing happens. Then there’s the rumbling of laughter and Chanyeol can feel the vibrations of it on his neck. His eyes flit open and meet Yifan’s smile. Chanyeol’s scowl only serves to amuse Yifan even more. Wholly embarrassed, Chanyeol pushes Yifan’s face away with a huff and spins around to walk off into the dark. “You'd better not touch me for the rest of your lif-“
Yifan pulls him back before he could complete his sentence and Chanyeol crashes into his embrace. He is very close, close enough for Chanyeol to see the faint yellow light of the lamp gleam off his eyelashes. It makes Chanyeol forget all those words parked behind his lips. In his next blink, Yifan is at his neck, nuzzling the soft skin with his lips. He trembles a little. They are both trembling. The kiss drifts up the arch of Chanyeol’s neck to his cheek before Yifan draws back again to look at him. No one is smiling anymore.
And then there’s simply no more time to waste. There’s simply no more reason to wait. Chanyeol tilts his head forward and presses his lips against Yifan’s. He swears he could hear the racing beat of Yifan’s heart against his own then. Pleased that he finally has Yifan going out of control too, Chanyeol lets his eyelids drift shut, lets Yifan cup his face and lean in at another angle, lets him lick his lower lip before pressing in again. They kiss closed-lipped, warm lips sliding against each other's. It’s a fairly sweet first kiss and they’ve started to take turns pecking each other on the lips, stopping when Chanyeol cannot hold it in anymore and begins to laugh.
“Are we?” Yifan murmurs, brushing his lips along the curve of Chanyeol’s cheek, ceasing all teasing and seeking only certainty in exchange.
In reply, Chanyeol throws his arm around Yifan, their noses bumping in the process. “You can’t escape now.” He tries not to, but ends up laughing gleefully in the crook of Yifan’s neck anyway. In his joy, he also tries to lift Yifan up and twirl him around but romantic Chanyeol overestimates his strength and they end up just rocking a little from side to side while still locked in an embrace.
Something begins tonight, its birth as quiet as the drift of first snow.
★
“Stop following me!” Lu Han stops and lashes out at Jongin, acknowledging his presence only when they reach the lobby of his rented apartment. He doesn’t want to lead him up to the door.
“You live here?” asks Jongin, jotting down Lu Han’s address in his memory.
“None of your business.” There’s frost in Lu Han’s tone but it does nothing to damper Jongin’s passion.
“Are you sure you don’t want my number?” he asks sweetly.
”No, Lu Han snarls, folding his arms and standing his ground, refusing to go up to his apartment until Jongin goes away.
“But what if you miss me?” Jongin asks matter of factly. The question leaves Lu Han sputtering in indignation for a good 10 seconds.
“I will not. Never. I,” he chokes out. If shamelessness could kill, now would pretty much be a good time for the termination of the human race.
While Lu Han is still stuttering, Jongin just pulls him over and kisses him on the lips. The contact is fleeting so Lu Han doesn’t even get to have the chance to smack him away. “Your lips are so soft,” compliments Jongin in a low husky voice, fingers drifting over his own lips as if savoring the kiss.
Stunned, it takes Lu Han more than a few seconds to reignite his temper and kick Jongin in the shin. Yelping, Jongin bends down and clutches his leg. Lu Han walks over and hisses into Jongin’s ear. “You’ll have to try harder than this.”
His bangs lay curled on his cheek as Jongin lifts his gaze and says, in a voice stretched with expectations, “I’ll be sure to try harder then.” He winks.
Lu Han’s eyes go round and he really doesn’t want to, but he begins to go pink; it starts from the tops of his ears and spreads across his cheeks. When he realizes he doesn’t have a good enough retort, Lu Han employs his deadliest glare on Jongin, complete with wrinkled nose and squinty eyes, before he spins on his heels and walks haughtily into the lift that has just arrived.
So adorable, Jongin thinks. He pulls the right leg of his jeans up and sees faint bruising which will no doubt grow into a large patch of blue-black.
Spitfire.
★
Chanyeol is right when he says that the jitters he feel around Yifan will fade away as familiarity breeds. But that doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t speed up anymore when their lips meet in stolen moments in the dead corners of the bookstore, with Chanyeol laughing like mad with a hand over his mouth in the aftermath and Yifan looking on with a grin as he enjoys his little victories.
On alternate weekday nights, Yifan has his Korean classes. So Chanyeol hangs around with Jongin in school, both of them being ill-fated university students in their final semester. But on Yifan’s days off, he’d send Chanyeol to school although they don’t hold hands (they never do, unless it’s dark enough to), but the brush of their hands as they stroll beside each other is enough to set secret smiles blooming on their faces. When his friends ask about the mysterious gorgeous stranger who walks with him to the gates, Chanyeol will just reply arrogantly that his hyung is already taken and that they had better stop enquiring. Jongin keeps his silence because he still hasn’t quite gotten Lu Han nailed down and is preoccupied. While Chanyeol is at school, Yifan would spend his time with a book in a café nearby or check his bookmarks for the latest author interviews and book releases. When the last class is over for Chanyeol, they’d then gather again for a meal and at Yifan’s insistence, Chanyeol would reluctantly complete his work for the day under supervision. Wednesdays are special because Chanyeol would insist on going to the bookstore no matter what. “It’s a habit, a weekly ritual. Doesn’t feel right if I don’t go and immerse myself in literature,” he explains. Yifan just shrugs and accommodates him.
The walk back to Chanyeol’s is always the best. Although they never really make it to his house, saying their goodbyes a distance away. Yifan has never asked Chanyeol why. Just like how Chanyeol has never pried into his private life. They don’t ask each other questions, believing that there’s no need to.
Their hands find each other in the dark; they never remember who reaches out first but their fingers will always fall tangled up between them. Each step is slow and lingering as they sift their way through the night. Sometimes they pause for a kiss, sometimes they don’t. But a hint of regret can always be found in their goodbyes, when their fingers loosen to freedom they don’t want. Then Chanyeol would wait until Yifan is gone from his sight before he continues his way home.
Everything is commonplace. Ordinary and plain. Pages of their everyday that they don’t bookmark for recollection. If either of them could pick a piece of memory to preserve forever, this wouldn’t be it. But it is still the most beautiful time of their lives. It is beautiful when you hold love in your hands and you believe that, against all odds, it would last forever.
★
This Sunday, Yifan has his day off and Chanyeol is hanging out in his small apartment. Unfortunately, it’s also Lu Han’s day off. When he returns home after running some errands to find Chanyeol lying on the couch with his head on Yifan’s lap, watching what must be some melodramatic movie (Chanyeol looks like he’s trying not to be too emotional), he clucks his tongue and marches straight to the toilet for a shower.
“He doesn’t like me,” Chanyeol says, a little sadly, tilting his head up to look at Yifan. But Yifan suspects his sadness might be due to the death of the female lead.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” Yifan explains. “Lu Han and I grew up together.” Chanyeol nods, eyes still on Yifan. This is no surprise. The interaction between Yifan and Lu Han is more like that of brothers than friends. Yifan looks out for Lu Han in more ways than he knows. He knows when Lu Han is just throwing a tantrum for the sake of getting his attention and when he’s really upset. Chanyeol thinks Lu Han is simply being difficult all the time. “In the orphanage,” Yifan continues and feels Chanyeol stir at his words. When he sits up, Yifan gazes into his eyes and asks, “Does it bother you?”
“No!” Chanyeol shouts, alarmed by the idea of it. “No, no, no, no,” he repeats. He takes Yifan’s hand. “No.” It’s a soft murmur this time. His thumbs are pressed into the soft center of Yifan’s palm as he holds it with both hands.
But the truth is, it does bother Chanyeol. It haunts him from time to time for years to come and makes him feel inexplicably lonely, consoled only when he reaches out for Yifan and he is there, relieving the pain he causes Chanyeol. And it’s times like this that Chanyeol feels glad for his own existence. When the sun rains on the path that winds back home and carves dark shapes on the road, Yifan’s shadow is never alone.
Smiling, Yifan pulls Chanyeol back into his arms. “There were a lot of girls, some of the children were born with disabilities, some were sick. But we were boys and we were healthy. The fact remained that we were all unwanted.”
“But your parents didn’t abandon you.” Chanyeol consolingly strokes the hair at Yifan’s nape and recalls what Yifan told him in the café.
“Yeah,” Yifan mumbles into Chanyeol’s neck, “yeah.” The emotion in his voice is indistinguishable.
“You are not an orphan anymore. I will dote on you,” Chanyeol says, getting up from Yifan’s embrace. He kneels on the couch beside Yifan and cups his hand around the side of Yifan's face. “I will spoil you.”
“You already do,” Yifan mumbles, leaning into Chanyeol’s touch. But no, Chanyeol thinks, this is not enough. He wants to make up for all that Yifan has lost.
“Is this why Lu Han is so reliant on you?” asks Chanyeol.
“The boys in school often picked on Lu Han because he had no parents. He was really small when he was a kid.”
“And you were there.”
“And I was there.”
“A big nasty oversized bully.”
“Sun Wukong trapped in the body of a primary school kid.”
“Sun-what?”
“Nevermind,” Yifan says and wraps an arm around Chanyeol’s waist. “We took off after graduating from high school, earned enough money for plane tickets and left without a thought. Home was just too unhappy a place and Lu Han had a friend here who could help us get jobs. I'd been in Seoul for three years when I met you. Don’t worry about Lu Han, he’ll get over it when he finds someone, too.”
Chanyeol tips his head forward in a nod and meets Lu Han’s eyes when he comes out of the bathroom and into the living room. Ignoring Chanyeol who’s giving him please-love-me looks, Lu Han meanders into his room and flops onto his bed, realizing too late that he’s lying on something soft, something warm, something Jongin.
Lu Han flips right up like bread out of a toaster with very strong springs. And lands back onto Jongin.
“Hey, darling. I miss you. You feel really good on me, by the way.”
Back in the living room, Chanyeol and Yifan hear what might be the crack of a towel and a shrill cry.
“Are you sure about this matchmaking business?” Yifan yawns and is rewarded by a cushion in his face. It’s an early sign of domestic violence.
“Shut up. I can’t hear.” Chanyeol’s attention is diverted by the duty of eavesdropping. Yifan tickles his ears for his attention, but gets a half-hearted kick in the stomach. So he starts tickling Chanyeol’s foot instead, stopping when the kicks become serious.
“Get off my bed!” They hear Lu Han growl dangerously. “No one is allowed to defile Lu Han’s bed,” quips Yifan helpfully. As a considerate friend, Chanyeol carefully tucks this piece of information away for Jongin. When he sees that Chanyeol is still frowning in concentration, Yifan decides that’s quite enough. He pushes down on Chanyeol’s shoulders until his back meets the couch and he is pinned down under Yifan.
It works.
Staring up at Yifan who’s smiling most devilishly, Chanyeol feels his heart crack open and spill love, when he sees the child in him. He doesn’t want to talk about Yifan’s past because he doesn’t want him to relive it all. Yet Chanyeol grieves. His arms form a loop around Yifan’s neck and his hold tightens until they collide.
“I will give you a home.”
The promise is whispered onto Yifan’s skin and seared into his being. For a moment, he closes his eyes and breathes, inhaling Chanyeol. In the next exhale, Yifan lays the strain of his entire weight on him, like how a kite with a broken string relies on a steady current of wind - with abandon and a whole world of faith. It doesn’t matter then that Yifan has always felt the need to take Chanyeol under his wing, that Chanyeol is in fact two years younger without an ounce of real-world experience and sees everything in rainbow shades. What Yifan craves for, Chanyeol will provide.
When Chanyeol’s stroking hand on his back dissipates the tension vibrating through him, Yifan tips his head forward in a nod. The hardest glass breaks the easiest.
This is the first time they talk about the future.
★
After whipping Jongin with his wet towel, Lu Han struggles to get up but his foot gets caught in the blanket and he trips back into Jongin’s waiting arms instead.
“Your efforts are futile.” His tone is teasing but suddenly, there are fingers gently sweeping Lu Han’s wet bangs to the side. The softness in Jongin’s touch stills Lu Han’s struggles. He has been gearing up for a fight and not the enveloping warmth of Jongin’s embrace. It isn’t easy to resist the security he finds in it.
Honestly, he has been expecting Jongin. When Chanyeol drops by, he always brings Jongin who seems to think that he has some sort of proprietary rights over Lu Han, whether it’s a loose arm over his shoulders or the way he sometimes answers questions for him. But the element of surprise and anger is a nice defense mechanism and Lu Han is not ready to shed his mask yet. It’s puzzling, actually. The way Jongin has barged into his life, demanding changes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Especially when changes are so terrifying to Lu Han.
“Why are you nervous around me?” Those fingers sift through Lu Han’s wet hair, revealing the curve of an ear and a crease between brows. But the imp isn’t fighting him off this time. Jongin takes advantage of this by placing an arm across Lu Han’s waist, pulling him even closer.
“I’m not, it was the blanket!” Lu Han snaps, although he remains in Jongin’s arms.
“Why are you always so angry?” Jongin plays with a tuft of Lu Han’s hair, drawing the water out.
“Is it because you’re so sad?” A finger catches a drop of water near Lu Han’s temple and cuts a slow meandering path down his cheek, mimicking the flow of tears. It’s barely a whisper, but the emotions his words stir in Lu Han are frightening. Jongin knows the moment is gone when Lu Han’s shoulders go taut. He sighs regretfully.
A few weeks ago, when Yifan went to pick Chanyeol up after school, Jongin asked him about Lu Han without expecting an answer. So he was surprised when Yifan told him, after pushing Chanyeol away (he lingered in the background, with his sad puppy eyes and left out feelings). “Why are you telling me this?” he asked. Yifan jabbed a thumb in the direction of Chanyeol and said, “He said you were ok.” Rolling his eyes, Jongin said, “You know he hardly has a bad opinion of anyone, right?” But Yifan just smiled. Jongin felt a little lonely then, when Chanyeol came running over at Yifan’s wave, his grin brighter than usual. How the hell was that even possible? Dimly, he wondered how Lu Han felt around them and he wonders how he feels now.
Lu Han has thrown his arm off and leaped up from the bed. He stands before Jongin, chest heaving with what must be wrath. It is apparent in the flush found on his cheeks but that isn't what Jongin wants to know. And fighting hurts, Jongin doesn’t like it. Before Lu Han could unleash his anger, he sits up and pulls him over. “I will miss you.” Lips brush against his ear and Lu Han knows Jongin can feel his pulse beat out a shaky rhythm. The revelation is more intimate than heated caresses and he flinches. Before Lu Han could push him away, Jongin lets go. Startled by the sudden lack of contact, Lu Han blinks, feeling strangely unsatisfied; a story without a conclusion.
Spinning on his heel, the last Lu Han can see of Jongin is the hem of his shirt disappearing behind the door of his bedroom. He didn’t expect to feel disappointment at Jongin’s departure. Exhaustion causes him to flop over on his bed and that’s when he sees it. A bear keychain on his pillow. Lu Han picks it up. The tiny brown bear is wearing an unbuttoned white shirt over a navy tee. It’s one of Jongin’s gifts to him, what Chanyeol has taken to calling ‘Jongin’s nasty little love traps’ (Lu Han had thrown the bottle of eye-wrinkle cream into Jongin’s face though).
Viciously, Lu Han squeezes the poor bear, imagining it to be Jongin. Then he unfurls his fist and stares at the bear. It stares back. How rude, just like its owner! Scowling, Lu Han flicks its beady nose with a finger. Then he holds it up by the chain, watching it dangle back and forth, thoughts already straying. He closes his eyes, recalling how reassuring it felt to be held.
Lu Han didn’t know he had been craving for this; it’s scary to want something, to possess is to harbor a fear. You never have to be afraid of losing something you never had, you won’t have memories to remind you to be sad. But Lu Han thinks it might be worth it, even if it’s just for a short while. He would like to be happy.
Softly, Lu Han cups the bear in his hands and lets longing fill him up to the brim.
★
That night, after Chanyeol has long left, Yifan explains to him over a bowl of takeout jajangmyeon in their living room. “This is a pair of chopsticks.” Lu Han ignores him and digs into his noodles after he has mixed the sauce in. Flecks of black soybean sauce begin flying everywhere.
Yifan shifts further away from Lu Han on the couch and repeats, “This is a pair of chopsticks.” Lu Han grabs Yifan’s bowl of noodles so he shuts up and eats before his gege steals his food.
“This is a pair of chopsticks.” But the once clean pair of disposable chopsticks is now stained with sauce. Clearly, Yifan is going to die trying. So Lu Han decides he might as well die. Throwing a cushion into Yifan’s face, Lu Han leaps onto him and attempts murder but alas, he’s cute Bambi while his didi is a flying dragon (animals are much more fearsome if they can fly, e.g. roaches).
“This is a pair of-”
“Chopsticks!” Lu Han spits out, ”I know.” He’s being pinned down onto the couch by an arm and a leg.
“Glad you see.” Yifan’s easy smile is pissing Lu Han off so he quickly goes on with his chopsticks story. “Remember that fable in our textbook when we were in Primary Two? That one with the chopsticks?”
Lu Han stops struggling and thinks. “No.”
Ogling at him, Yifan says, “You broke nearly all the chopsticks in the orphanage and old Madam Wong chased you all over the yard with a feather duster.”
But Lu Han shakes his head.
The sigh is longdrawn. Removing his hold on Lu Han, Yifan says, “The moral of that story is, a single chopstick breaks easily,” he bends the single bamboo chopstick in his hand and it splinters into half, “but a bunch of them won’t, unity is strength. Anyway, here’s a twist to that tale.” Tossing the corpse of the broken chopstick over to the coffee table, he takes one of Lu Han’s used chopsticks and puts it together with his remaining good one so that they appear to be whole again, still unsplit. Lu Han believes Yifan has been reading too much Cai Kangyong lately, maybe that’s why he sees the need to dispense bad advice.
“You’d need to use more strength to break the disposable chopsticks if you didn't split them. But it’s only when you crack them apart,” Yifan separates the chopsticks, pulling them apart before putting them together again and gesturing as he would if he were picking up a thick glistening slice of braised pork belly, “that they become a pair and fulfill their use as chopsticks.”
“Why be so strong alone when you could become part of a pair?” Yifan asks kindly, before he gets up and clears the table, giving Lu Han some time to digest his noodles and thoughts.
Cheng shuang cheng dui, good things come in pairs. Lu Han suddenly recalls the glittery red words he once saw in a Chinese restaurant when he was working as a kitchen helper. A wedding banquet was to be held that night and the character 囍 was taped flimsily onto every single door. Shuang xi, double happiness, when in fact, only one happy event was to take place.
Lu Han has always thought 喜 looks so lonely after that.
★
Yifan has work the next day, so Chanyeol finds him at the bookstore after school. He picks up the stiff atmosphere immediately. “What’s wrong?” Today, the counter is unusually neat and tidy at the customer service section. All the magazines that used to be haphazardly stacked behind the counter are now standing neatly on the reservation shelf.
“Some surprise store visit by the chairman. How do I look?” Yifan looks devastating in his ugly uniform, of course, but Chanyeol is suddenly distracted.
“Oh, I guess I'd better get going then. Don’t want to disturb you.” But Yifan grabs his black backpack and drags him back. “Stay, we can go for dinner later. I can knock off work earlier today.”
“No, um, I have too much work to do.” Chanyeol starts making meaningless gestures and Yifan looks at him with questioning eyes. The kid is worried about not finishing his assignments. That’s new.
“Quick!” Lu Han scampers over to stand beside Yifan at the counter. “He’s here!”
There’s a flurry of activity near the entrance and the commotion quickly nears the Chinese section, as it’s located close to the entrance. It’s too late to run without attracting attention, so Chanyeol quickly hides his face by bending over to bow deeply like how Yifan and Lu Han are doing beside him.
“What are you doing!” hisses Lu Han. But Chanyeol ignores him with a deep scowl on his face. The frown intensifies when a pair of brown leather shoes appear in front of him. He recognizes the shoes but refuses to acknowledge it.
“Lift your head.” Curt and crisp, it is a command that Chanyeol is accustomed to and he cannot defy the instinct to obey. Slowly, he straightens up but his eyes stay focused on the floor. The scowl has smoothed itself out. The flagrant display of displeasure is not allowed, not in front of this man who holds himself with the air of a person who’s used to unquestionable authority. He compliments it with an expensive-looking black suit and salt and pepper hair, the streaks of silver adding on to his imposing aura. They are of almost the same height and share the same facial features, which set off the crowd of senior management following behind Mr. Park, although they only dare share covert pointed looks in suppressed silence. But upon closer examination, Chanyeol’s full lips and wide eyes lend him a softer look while his father’s sharp brows and nose serve to flatter his impressive stature even more. It’s true that Chanyeol has always taken after his mother more, both in demeanor and appearance.
When Mr. Park fixes a steely gaze on Chanyeol, the latter swallows and bends his spine a little in submission. “Follow me,” Mr. Park orders and walks off, gait steady and confident.
But Chanyeol hesitates. He looks down at Yifan who’s still bowing, clearly reluctant to move away from his side. There are so many things to explain. His father has paused mid-step, however, taken aback when he doesn’t sense Chanyeol behind him. There’s no need to call out to him, the order to obey is in his eyes and Chanyeol heeds, finally leaving Yifan’s side. “I will call you,” he says lowly and quickly moves to follow his father.
Before the entourage move off, Yifan raises his head and meets Mr. Park’s eyes. They keep their eyes locked in contact, breaking off only when a man in the pack starts talking to Mr. Park. And it’s only when they are out of sight that Yifan straightens his back. “What the hell was that?” Lu Han exclaims. But he isn’t the only confused one.
After work, Yifan waits for Chanyeol in the café they frequent; he has promised him dinner. But Chanyeol never calls.
★
Yifan wakes up to something blue flashing in front of him. He shakes his head to throw off the sense of disorientation. The stupor clears fairly quickly but the flash of blue remains. For a moment, he panics and swipes his face with a hand, almost slapping himself in the process. Something falls onto his chest. It’s a post-it, already crinkled with abuse. Written on it, in cute squiggly handwriting, is his name.
And an emoticon.
吴亦凡ㅠㅠ
Yifan drops his head back to his pillow and sighs when he checks the time on his handphone. Only 11:15 a.m. It’s too early to be this cute. He burrows deeper into his covers, savoring his day off. But only for a minute.
The truth is, Yifan does miss him a little.
He successfully gets out of bed, feeling like he's just fought a war and won. Sure enough, when he paddles out to the living room, he sees Chanyeol sitting with his legs folded on the black couch, hands placed on his knees, as if he’s deep in mediation. Or maybe, this isn’t Chanyeol at all, because his entire face is covered with colorful post-its. Settling down beside him on the sofa, Yifan takes his time making his decision and Chanyeol grows impatient. (Hey, try sticking post-its on your face. It isn't the most comfortable thing to do.) Because he can’t see, all he can do is to point at the general direction of his right eye. The green post-it stuck over his eye reads 凡凡凡. Yifan chuckles and removes it. Finally, Chanyeol can see him. It’s been more than a week since they last saw each other.
As far as right eyes go, Chanyeol’s seems pretty sad. Reaching over, Yifan erases the small crease between his brows with a thumb. Then he smiles to let Chanyeol know he’s alright, they’re fine. Something glazes over Chanyeol’s eye and he next points to the orange post-it over his mouth. 亦凡!!! is scribbled on it, accompanied by a fat little heart. Yifan dutifully tears it off to reveal a wobbly pout.
“Gege, gege.” It’s a piteous whimper.
Crossing his arms and leaning back onto the couch, Yifan asks, “I taught you how to write my name but who taught you this?”
But in a cute albeit still deep voice, all Chanyeol says is, “Dui bu qi, gege.” When Yifan doesn’t reciprocate (well, he lifted a brow but it wasn’t the correct reaction), Chanyeol tries again, sticking his lower lip out adorably and looking suitably three years-old. ” Yifan gege… gege…” He tugs at Yifan’s sleeve.
Chanyeol abandons his cute Chinese act when even the eyebrow antic ceases. “Erm, I have a friend who majors in Chinese.”
“Ah.”
Then there’s silence. Chanyeol summons both courage and wit from his being.
“And my father might own a chain of bookstores…” His right eye swivels from left to right and then back again.
“Along with a publishing company, is that right?”
“Uh, I’m not so sure about that.”
“You should check it on Naver, Canlie didi. It’s there,” Yifan says kindly. “Tell me again, why are you at the bookstore every Wednesday?”
Chanyeol groans and surrenders. “School does end earlier on Wednesdays, so it’s the best time to go. The first time we met, I visited late because I was out with Jongin the whole day.” He closes his eyes, or at least his right eye anyway, Yifan can’t tell. “My father quizzes me on store operations every Thursday morning, our own ‘Weekly Operation Review’. It’s practiced in the company on Thursdays and he practices it at home, getting my answers before work and then matching them with the reports people submit to him. I go to check out the latest arrivals, the best-selling titles, whatever. He sometimes asks me about store decorations. I don’t know, alright. I just don’t want it to come between us. Does it really matter?”
“It matters to me.” But of course it is important. Yifan might not have a lot of things but he treasures his pride and wears it like an accessory. And Chanyeol knows this, despite his question. It’s exactly why he has refrained from telling Yifan. Wu Yifan means I could have nothing under my name but I still stand as an equal with everyone. The memory now burns in Chanyeol’s mind. Technically, he hasn’t lied to Yifan but can concealment truly be considered a lesser evil? Probably not, from Yifan’s point of view.
“You don’t know what you want to be. But the fact is, you don’t even need to decide. Your father is going to hand over his business to you.” His right eye snaps open, but Chanyeol bites his lips, allowing no words to escape. Yifan takes his silence as a concession. “What happens if your answers are wrong?”
Chanyeol lowers his eyes and takes more time than necessary with the reply. “I have never been wrong.”
But of course, Chanyeol will not fail his father. “I haven’t seen you for the past week. Why haven’t you been replying to my messages?”
Utterly defeated, Chanyeol rips the pink post-it (凡형) over his left eye so he can be sad properly. “I’m kind of grounded at the moment. My phone’s been confiscated.” In contrast with his depressed mood, the remaining post-its on his face flutter happily whenever he utilizes his facial muscles. “Anyway, my father left for a business trip today so I snuck out.”
“Why are you grounded?” Chanyeol’s stubbornness is a flaw, Yifan muses. He can detect it now in the downturned ends of his lips and the determined glower he wears on his face. But Chanyeol’s honesty is also a flaw. He would rather stay a mute than lie, and currently, a pause is weighing down heavily on them.
“Because you have been caught hanging around with the wrong company.” The answer isn’t too hard to guess and Yifan knows he’s right when Chanyeol averts his eyes. He has one last question. “Does your father knows his son is gay and dating his employee?”
This is too much to handle. Chanyeol closes his eyes again and keels over on the couch, playing dead. But he would need more than cuteness to save him now.
“I’m your dirty little secret.”
“No!” Immediately, Chanyeol shoots up from where he’s sprawled across the couch and pounces on Yifan, pinning him down and locking him into a fierce hug. He doesn’t care that Yifan might push him away, nor does it matter to him that they’re probably in the middle of a fight and physical contact might not be the best idea. Because the last thing he wants Yifan to think is that Chanyeol is ashamed of him. This is not true. This is the furthest one could be away from the truth. Chanyeol has a lot more things than Yifan, but he has never wanted anything, anyone, more than him.
“No,” he repeats, forcefully holding Yifan down where he is, “you don’t know what you mean to me.” Chanyeol pushes himself off Yifan to stare into his eyes. It’s sort of hilarious the way the post-its are still sticking onto his face; they can clearly withstand even the strongest emotional outbursts, although curled at the corners already. But no one is laughing and when Yifan hears what Chanyeol says next, a flicker of a spark comes to life within him, the warmth so unbearable that it’s painful to contain. With every breath, it threatens to snap the seams of his being, scattering pieces of him that have been stitched together so painstakingly. All these years of careful living.
“I want to be important to you,” Chanyeol says slowly and earnestly. “Like how important you are to me.”
It hurts so much. Yifan’s hand reaches out to cup Chanyeol’s neck, his wrist is a light pressure against the frenzied pulse. He peels the post-its off to reveal Chanyeol’s face, shining with hope. “You are important.” You are the fiercest streak of brilliance in my life.
The reply is simple but Chanyeol knows the weight of it. Collapsing on top of him, Chanyeol tucks his face into Yifan’s neck and says with urgency, “I can’t be with you yet, not now, we can’t. My father, he will never allow. Do you understand?” Yifan bobs his head in comprehension and feels relief resonate throughout Chanyeol’s body. “Will you wait for me?” Always accommodating, Yifan says yes. Chanyeol brushes his lips against Yifan’s jaw, the kiss too eager and ephemeral to be real. But this is Chanyeol and he is now pressed against his body, pushing himself even more into his heart, breaking and mending Yifan, all at the same time. How could this be? Yifan thinks as he tilts Chanyeol’s chin up and angles in, each kiss a silent cry of yearning. He wants this so much. He will wait.
Just wait. Chanyeol’s stubbornness is a virtue. And his strength is exactly what they will need to pull them through the darkest days. But there are things that are telling only with the passage of time, and they are so young, so young.
★
Jongin watches Lu Han peep at Yifan and Chanyeol from behind his bedroom door. “You know, Yifan is not going to leave you.” Side-eyeing Jongin, Lu Han strolls to his bed and flops onto it. “Why do you think I opened the door for that kid.” The tone isn’t friendly but it isn’t hostile either. Jongin smiles and hands Lu Han a mailing tube. “For you.”
Casting the ‘nasty little love trap’ a wary eye, Lu Han deliberates for a while before taking it. There’s a poster inside. He unrolls it.
“I,” he starts and stops, staring at the image of the football player.
“It’s Ronaldo.” Pleased that he has done his Lu Han research well, Jongin beams at him, expecting some form of reciprocation.
“…it’s Ronaldo from Brazil.”
‘And?’ Jongin thinks, clearly not knowing where this is heading.
“I like Cristiano Ronaldo, not Ronaldo.”
Lu Han has just said that he likes Ronaldo but not Ronaldo. This is too difficult for Jongin (and all other mere mortals outside of the football fandom) and he narrows his eyes.
“But thank you.” Lu Han walks to his cabinet then, opens a drawer and throws something that he retrieves from it at Jongin who catches it in time. It’s a pink polka-dot deer keychain and has a 鹿 stitched onto the side of its body in navy threads. There’s even an adorable small beige backpack on its back. “Payback,” Lu Han says.
“Cute,” Jongin grins. There’s something on Lu Han’s face that might be the hybrid of a smile and a scowl. It’s awkward but at least it’s genuine. Jongin thinks that Lu Han’s awkward smile is beautiful.
In this moment, a heart opens up and Jongin walks in.
★
When Yifan and Chanyeol next meet, it is already December, a month later at the company’s annual dinner which is held in a hotel ballroom with plush red carpeting and round tables draped with heavy tablecloth. A vase filled with fresh flowers sits at every table. They will be thrown away immediately after the banquet, wilted only around the edges. The next customer might be picky with the choice of flowers and they usually are. Wedding dinners are the worst, brides-to-be are the nastiest people in the whole world. Yifan knows this because he once worked part-time as a waiter in a hotel before. But today, he enters as a guest. He wears a crisp white shirt, neatly pressed and starched so that it matches his state of mind.
During this span of time, Yifan has sat through an interview for the position of assistant book buyer at another local bookstore, not as large as the one he works in but it still houses a sizable Chinese book section. Lu Han’s friend, Yixing - the same person who helped them get their current jobs at the bookstore - clinched this opportunity for him through some vital contacts. The interviewer didn’t want Yifan, honestly. They wanted a Korean who could read and speak Chinese but interviewed without success. Yifan was a Chinese who spoke good Korean and although he wasn't exactly what they were looking for, Yixing had a few choice words for the interviewers. ‘The Chinese are hardworking people,’ he exclaimed, ‘they are responsible and will work beyond what you’ll be paying for them!’
It’s a junior position, he was told at the interview, and they are unable to give him a pay increase. However, he will be given guidance and there’s a chance to be promoted to the position of book buyer. When Lu Han and he sit down at their table located just beside the aisle at the edge of the entrance, his mobile rings and it’s Yixing, notifying that he has the job.
He looks up smiling and stills when he sees Chanyeol stride past his table, standing tall with his father at his side, looking just as impassive. A grey suit adheres to his lanky frame, it’s a perfect fit. He fills the suit perfectly, fills his rightful place as an heir perfectly. But Yifan can still remember how the cotton of Chanyeol’s tee felt against his cheek; it feels like yesterday. There’s no sign of acknowledgement on Chanyeol’s face, it is so free of expression that Yifan almost doesn’t recognize him. But he does. Yifan would be able to pinpoint Chanyeol in a sea of layered faces. Out of sheer instinct, he would turn to him.
His eyes stay unwavering on Chanyeol until father and son are seated at the table in the middle of the ballroom, far away from him. Lu Han places a consoling hand on his knee under the table and Yifan’s smile returns as he turns back to him. When his vision flits over once again, however, he clashes with Chanyeol’s gaze. His father is gone, busy entertaining the guest of honor and he sits alone at the big table.
I miss you, Chanyeol mouths to him, across the distance, looking so familiar now. Yifan takes a deep breath and lowers his eyes, exhaling his fear of being forgotten. At the next instance, he lifts his eyes up, letting his fake smile evaporates into loneliness, mirroring Chanyeol’s expression.
I miss you, too.
★
After the dinner, he waits outside the hotel, letting the cold bite his fingers. It’s nearing midnight and Lu Han has already reached home. He sends a message in Chinese. Hui jia, it says. Come home.
But Yifan wants another home. So he loiters. Sticking his hands into the pockets of his black pea coat, Yifan throws a look at the bellboy who has been staring at him through the large slanted glass doors of the hotel. It’s too cold to be standing out here in the dead of winter and Yifan has been waiting for a good hour. But it’s worth it, he thinks when a minute later, he looks up and sees Chanyeol rounding the corner and sprinting up to him in the dark, scarf flying, hair ruffled by the harsh wind, cheeks red with exertion. Yifan will remember the image of Chanyeol running up to him for a long time, exhilaration and desperation alternating at every step. That blazing look on his face.
His speed doesn’t falter even as he nears, choosing to crash into Yifan instead, the impact causing his back to hit the hotel’s wall with a thud. Yifan finds himself breathless as well when his arms go around Chanyeol, as if he too, had to fly across just as large a distance in order to close in on him. And maybe he did.
“I-I lied!” Chanyeol is still panting, he sounds excited. “I said I left my wallet at the hotel!” When he pulls a little away to look at Yifan’s face, however, his excitement at being a new rebel quickly slips away and is replaced by what seems to be melancholy. He leans in and presses his forehead against Yifan’s, clenching his jaw tight. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. There is little happiness to be found in this touch, just intolerable pangs of longing.
“Where’s your wallet?” Yifan whispers against Chanyeol’s lips.
“In the trashbin just outside the ballroom, probably already gone,” he mumbles, looking directly into Yifan’s eyes. “You waited.”
“I waited.” Yifan nods and closes his eyes, allowing Chanyeol to tilt his head a little and fuse their mouths together. When his tongue touches Chanyeol’s, he feels Chanyeol shiver in his embrace. They kiss for some time before Yifan recovers his senses. They are too reckless. Grabbing the lapels of Chanyeol’s coat, Yifan pulls him into the shadows of the trees. “I have a new job,” he says harshly between kisses and sees Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide. Laughing lowly, he presses a kiss on Chanyeol’s cheek, the heat on his skin has long dissipated. He cups Chanyeol’s face with both hands, trying to warm him up but his touch is even colder and Yifan ends up stealing heat instead.
Chanyeol doesn’t push him away though; he places a hand on Yifan’s shoulder, grip suddenly fierce and unrelenting. “When will you resign?”
“Tomorrow.” Nodding shakily, Chanyeol stutters as the cold from Yifan seeps into him, “I-I will tell h-him. He isn’t as guarded now. D-didn’t even bother following me here.” Yifan doesn’t need to ask to know who Chanyeol is referring to. He also knows Chanyeol is afraid. The shivers are not only because of the cold.
“You don’t have to,” Yifan says gently, thumb stroking his cheek. If it’s so hard for Chanyeol, they can stay a secret.
“No, no,” Chanyeol shakes his head in agitation, “I have to. We,” he swallows hard and doesn’t complete his sentence. The idea of being apart just wouldn’t do. Would never do. The simple truth is Chanyeol cannot part with Yifan.
We. For the two of them, this is what Chanyeol needs to do.
“I’ll wait,” Yifan renews his promise. And he knows Chanyeol will, too. Yifan knows it in the look Chanyeol gives him before he turns and dives back into the dark, so far away from him.
★
Two weeks later, Yifan commences work as an assistant book buyer. From an experienced book buyer, he learns that his responsibilities encompass far more than that of stocking up titles. He also has to plan events, deal with publicity matters and customers’ enquiries. Although Yifan now has an office desk, everyday he has to walk the floor and check the merchandising displays. Instead of oak brown, his new bookstore has bamboo flooring, the bookshelves in a shade of forest green. He works with a publisher based in Hong Kong, meeting its overseas Chinese representative on a regular basis. This is the most exciting aspect of Yifan’s job. He gets to hear the rep talk about the season’s latest titles, run his fingers across the spines of books so new, few know of its contents. And in a matter of seconds, he has to provide his input and assist the book buyer in making his decision on whether the bookstore will stock up the title.
The tricky thing about dreams is that they sometimes come with strings attached. Yifan doesn't only have to deal with literature but also books on parenting, cooking, economics; the list goes on. The work is sometimes mundane and not exactly what he imagined it to be. But he figures fulfilling half a dream is not half bad at all, it’s half good.
He is busy. The gears of his mind are ticking furiously in the day. But at night, when the chaos of his world trickle down to the solo beat of his heart, he thinks only about Chanyeol. It is not a conscious decision. The process of recollection is seeded within him without any form of control. Yifan cannot stop his memories from consuming him but even as they do, one single stream of thought rises above all: he is remembered as well.
He is not alone in this. Whatever ‘this’ is. Whatever ‘this’ could be.
★
“This is Jongin.” Come Saturday, Chanyeol introduces his friend to Lu Han, who frowns and doesn’t extend a hand. But Jongin grabs his hand anyway and starts shaking it. “Nice to meet you, too.” He dispenses a lazy smile. Taken aback, Lu Han swiftly withdraws his hand and walks away.
“And this is Lu Han.” Chanyeol continues to introduce the now empty space beside him.
“Thank you,” Jongin whispers to Chanyeol before he follows closely behind Lu Han. Chanyeol nods solemnly. “You’re welcome.” Bless you, Lu Han, bless you.
Yifan appears amused by this. “You scheming little-“
“-handsome fella,” Chanyeol finishes for him. “Now, where’s the class?”
★
Chanyeol is about to die. There are paper cuts on his hand, a toddler in his lap, and another who’s smearing glue all over his right forearm.
“Noona,” the tiny dude who’s spreading the glue on his arm says, “Hyunjoon! Four years old!”
WHO THE FUCK CARES, Chanyeol wants to scream. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, while he gently pries four-year-old hands off himself, “Hyunjoon-ah, it’s hyung.” Hyunjoon ignores him and starts planting sequins onto Chanyeol’s sad arm.
“Unnie, look!” The cute little girl in his lap waves a disfigured piece of paper frog in Chanyeol’s face. Chanyeol refuses to look because he’s freaking pissed at her. He is one hundred and eighty-fucking-five centimeters of pure male testosterone, ok, let’s be clear on that. “Excuse you,” Chanyeol whispers darkly, “a lot of your unnies would want to sit on my lap.”
Unfortunately, at the moment, his precious lap-space is wasted on an unappreciative five year old.
“Har?”
“Let unnie show you how to fold the frog, Minjing-ah,” Chanyeol smiles sweetly and produces a really ugly blue frog (read: paper pulp) with his clumsy fingers. Hyunjoon slaps it with his palm until it dies a flat death on the low pink plastic table they’re seated at.
Chanyeol looks over to Jongin but he is enjoying himself with Lu Han at the next table, holding his hands and teaching him how to fold a crane. Actually, Chanyeol is mistaken. In fact, Lu Han is pushing Jongin’s hands away with the minimum amount of violence toddlers are allowed to be exposed to and Jongin is taking advantage of it by showering him with the maximum amount of skinship toddlers are allowed to be exposed to. They seem lovey-dovey anyway.
Chanyeol dry sobs. The world is a cold and cruel place.
The origami class is held in the center of the bookstore where there’s space - just wide enough for four of those low tables - reserved for autograph sessions and events like this. With people to take care of their kids, the parents are only too happy to go off on their own for a bit of shopping. This means extra care has to be taken to ensure the kids stay safe. Yifan has just finished making his rounds to all the small plastic tables, making sure that there’s nothing sharp or dangerous near the children, and he now sits beside Chanyeol. Usually, Chanyeol would have laughed at how ridiculous Yifan looks sitting in the tiny plastic pink chair, but he’s pretty miserable now.
“Save me or at least die with me,” Chanyeol pleads with Yifan, who snickers and takes Minjing from his lap. The girl is only too happy to go when she sees the perfect frog Yifan folds for her. Little unnie traitor. Chanyeol side-eyes Minjing. He side-eyes her hard.
“For you,” Yifan slides a paper heart over to him. “Hearts are supposed to be pink.” Chanyeol takes the heart and flips it over.
“Mine’s green,” Yifan says lightly and smiles at Chanyeol. It’s a full-fledged smile, showing the upper row of Yifan’s teeth, and Chanyeol has to bite his lower lip because he’s flushing so much. Then he sees the two lines scribbled at the back of the heart.
when sunbeams shine on the sea, i think of you
when misty moon rays scatter on spring waters, i think of you
When Chanyeol lifts his head up, Yifan is still smiling at him. This time, Chanyeol smiles back.
★
After work ends in the evening, Yifan sits on the bench in the bookstore and helps Chanyeol peel the dried glue off his arms. This act is accompanied by occasional yelps from Chanyeol as his arm hair comes off as well with the layer of glue.
Lu Han hangs around in the background looking extremely bored. “Yifan, can we go already?”
At this, Chanyeol puffs his cheeks out and shoots expectant coy looks at Yifan. A ghost of a smile slithers across Yifan’s face. “Why don’t you go home first? I’ll send Chanyeol back.”
Lu Han’s jaw goes slack. This is the first time that Yifan has failed to indulge him. He turns narrowed eyes at Chanyeol who only sticks his lower lip out at him.
“Don’t be jealous. I can send you home.” Indignant, Lu Han twirls around and snaps at Jongin, “I’m not jealous!”
But all Jongin says is, “I can hold your hand, too.” And he reaches out for Lu Han’s hand, squeezing it for a moment before lacing their fingers together and beaming up at him. Wordlessly, Lu Han stares at their linked hands and then at Jongin’s eyes, all bent into thin crescents. He is rendered speechless. This is the first time in his life that he has met someone as shamel- more shameless than he is.
Another shrill yelp from Chanyeol shakes Lu Han from his stupor. He slaps Jongin’s hand away, feeling his annoyance rise another level when Jongin remarks, “You look so pretty when you’re angry.”
“Lu Han hates it when people call him pretty,” Yifan says lowly. Upon his words, Chanyeol’s head swivels back to marvel at the show unraveling in front of him. True enough, Lu Han has stalked right up to Jongin, anger resounding in every step he clears, until he is in Jongin's face, breath darting across Jongin's cheek when he speaks, “How dare yo-“
“If you get any closer, I’ll have to kiss you.” And Lu Han leaps back, more agile than he has ever been his entire life, anger withered down to sheer outrage. This is another first. Tonight has seen too many firsts, which is more than what Lu Han can handle. Stupefied, he blinks twice at Jongin before he turns around and, there’s no other word for this, flees.
Jongin winks at Chanyeol before he gives chase.
“Is Lu Han going to be ok?” Yifan asks, peeling yet another patch of dried glue from his arm.
Chanyeol’s answer is exceedingly simple but satisfying. “Jongin is a good person.” There is so much sincerity in his voice that Yifan looks up at him. “He will be good to Lu Han.” Yifan hears the pride, firm and steely in Chanyeol’s voice when he vouches for his friend and that’s enough.
“I look forward to the day when someone finally subdues that imp.” Smiling, Yifan stands up. He blocks off the light so that it fans out around the crown of his head and Chanyeol has to squint so that he can look into his face. Yifan extends a hand to Chanyeol. “Come on.” His smile beckons like a charm. Mesmerized, Chanyeol reaches out. With his entire being, he wishes all of this were tangible so he could hold them, gladly suffer the reassuring burden of their weight in his arms and make everything seem more real. The future he hasn’t cast a thought upon now has a shape.
In the moment when Chanyeol’s hand finds Yifan’s, he believes he will go wherever Yifan leads him.
★
But Yifan just leads him out of the wrong exit of the bookstore and Chanyeol has to right him before they embark on the way to Chanyeol’s place.
The bricked path that winds up to Chanyeol’s house is dark and lonely. The dimly lit streetlights do little to shed light and in a way, Chanyeol is glad for the shield of darkness. But glad is hardly the right word to describe Chanyeol right now.
As usual, Chanyeol is fidgety when Yifan is near. His fingers twitch when Yifan holds his hand. As if he wants to let go. So Yifan releases his grip but then Chanyeol looks at him all shocked, as if he cannot believe Yifan has let go of him just like that.
“Do you want me to hold your hand or not?” sighs Yifan. A grin lounges at the edges of his eyes but it’s too dark for Chanyeol to see. So he can only stare at the silhouette of Yifan’s profile as he walks by his side.
Chanyeol is caught between wanting to die and wanting Yifan to hold his hand, actually. Or maybe, Yifan could hold his dying hand. He tries to say, ‘Yes, I would like you to hold my hand, if it isn't too much trouble,’ but really, what happens is just more of those cute lip shapes thing he’s so prone to. Chanyeol is beyond the ability of speech.
The moonlight casts obscure shadows on Chanyeol’s face so Yifan can only make out half of his mortification. Chuckling lowly, Yifan twines his fingers back around Chanyeol’s. “How am I going to kiss you, Chanyeol? If you’re always so flustered around me?”
Chanyeol trips over absolutely flat ground at his words and hears the ring of Yifan’s barely suppressed laugh. Unsteady and inebriated. But that’s alright. One shouldn’t be looking at the ground if he’s planning to fall anyway. All he needs to do now is to miss a step. Miss a step and start flying.
His pulse quickens and sends a flush of red flooding up his neck. Each beat is now heavy with the drag of anticipation. The yearning to be near is suddenly overwhelming. Space becomes an unforgivable notion.
Teasingly, Yifan stops and tugs on Chanyeol’s hand. They pause beneath a street lamp. When Yifan bends forward, Chanyeol’s lids flutter shut and he waits. Nothing happens. Then there’s the rumbling of laughter and Chanyeol can feel the vibrations of it on his neck. His eyes flit open and meet Yifan’s smile. Chanyeol’s scowl only serves to amuse Yifan even more. Wholly embarrassed, Chanyeol pushes Yifan’s face away with a huff and spins around to walk off into the dark. “You'd better not touch me for the rest of your lif-“
Yifan pulls him back before he could complete his sentence and Chanyeol crashes into his embrace. He is very close, close enough for Chanyeol to see the faint yellow light of the lamp gleam off his eyelashes. It makes Chanyeol forget all those words parked behind his lips. In his next blink, Yifan is at his neck, nuzzling the soft skin with his lips. He trembles a little. They are both trembling. The kiss drifts up the arch of Chanyeol’s neck to his cheek before Yifan draws back again to look at him. No one is smiling anymore.
And then there’s simply no more time to waste. There’s simply no more reason to wait. Chanyeol tilts his head forward and presses his lips against Yifan’s. He swears he could hear the racing beat of Yifan’s heart against his own then. Pleased that he finally has Yifan going out of control too, Chanyeol lets his eyelids drift shut, lets Yifan cup his face and lean in at another angle, lets him lick his lower lip before pressing in again. They kiss closed-lipped, warm lips sliding against each other's. It’s a fairly sweet first kiss and they’ve started to take turns pecking each other on the lips, stopping when Chanyeol cannot hold it in anymore and begins to laugh.
“Are we?” Yifan murmurs, brushing his lips along the curve of Chanyeol’s cheek, ceasing all teasing and seeking only certainty in exchange.
In reply, Chanyeol throws his arm around Yifan, their noses bumping in the process. “You can’t escape now.” He tries not to, but ends up laughing gleefully in the crook of Yifan’s neck anyway. In his joy, he also tries to lift Yifan up and twirl him around but romantic Chanyeol overestimates his strength and they end up just rocking a little from side to side while still locked in an embrace.
Something begins tonight, its birth as quiet as the drift of first snow.
★
“Stop following me!” Lu Han stops and lashes out at Jongin, acknowledging his presence only when they reach the lobby of his rented apartment. He doesn’t want to lead him up to the door.
“You live here?” asks Jongin, jotting down Lu Han’s address in his memory.
“None of your business.” There’s frost in Lu Han’s tone but it does nothing to damper Jongin’s passion.
“Are you sure you don’t want my number?” he asks sweetly.
”No, Lu Han snarls, folding his arms and standing his ground, refusing to go up to his apartment until Jongin goes away.
“But what if you miss me?” Jongin asks matter of factly. The question leaves Lu Han sputtering in indignation for a good 10 seconds.
“I will not. Never. I,” he chokes out. If shamelessness could kill, now would pretty much be a good time for the termination of the human race.
While Lu Han is still stuttering, Jongin just pulls him over and kisses him on the lips. The contact is fleeting so Lu Han doesn’t even get to have the chance to smack him away. “Your lips are so soft,” compliments Jongin in a low husky voice, fingers drifting over his own lips as if savoring the kiss.
Stunned, it takes Lu Han more than a few seconds to reignite his temper and kick Jongin in the shin. Yelping, Jongin bends down and clutches his leg. Lu Han walks over and hisses into Jongin’s ear. “You’ll have to try harder than this.”
His bangs lay curled on his cheek as Jongin lifts his gaze and says, in a voice stretched with expectations, “I’ll be sure to try harder then.” He winks.
Lu Han’s eyes go round and he really doesn’t want to, but he begins to go pink; it starts from the tops of his ears and spreads across his cheeks. When he realizes he doesn’t have a good enough retort, Lu Han employs his deadliest glare on Jongin, complete with wrinkled nose and squinty eyes, before he spins on his heels and walks haughtily into the lift that has just arrived.
So adorable, Jongin thinks. He pulls the right leg of his jeans up and sees faint bruising which will no doubt grow into a large patch of blue-black.
Spitfire.
★
Chanyeol is right when he says that the jitters he feel around Yifan will fade away as familiarity breeds. But that doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t speed up anymore when their lips meet in stolen moments in the dead corners of the bookstore, with Chanyeol laughing like mad with a hand over his mouth in the aftermath and Yifan looking on with a grin as he enjoys his little victories.
On alternate weekday nights, Yifan has his Korean classes. So Chanyeol hangs around with Jongin in school, both of them being ill-fated university students in their final semester. But on Yifan’s days off, he’d send Chanyeol to school although they don’t hold hands (they never do, unless it’s dark enough to), but the brush of their hands as they stroll beside each other is enough to set secret smiles blooming on their faces. When his friends ask about the mysterious gorgeous stranger who walks with him to the gates, Chanyeol will just reply arrogantly that his hyung is already taken and that they had better stop enquiring. Jongin keeps his silence because he still hasn’t quite gotten Lu Han nailed down and is preoccupied. While Chanyeol is at school, Yifan would spend his time with a book in a café nearby or check his bookmarks for the latest author interviews and book releases. When the last class is over for Chanyeol, they’d then gather again for a meal and at Yifan’s insistence, Chanyeol would reluctantly complete his work for the day under supervision. Wednesdays are special because Chanyeol would insist on going to the bookstore no matter what. “It’s a habit, a weekly ritual. Doesn’t feel right if I don’t go and immerse myself in literature,” he explains. Yifan just shrugs and accommodates him.
The walk back to Chanyeol’s is always the best. Although they never really make it to his house, saying their goodbyes a distance away. Yifan has never asked Chanyeol why. Just like how Chanyeol has never pried into his private life. They don’t ask each other questions, believing that there’s no need to.
Their hands find each other in the dark; they never remember who reaches out first but their fingers will always fall tangled up between them. Each step is slow and lingering as they sift their way through the night. Sometimes they pause for a kiss, sometimes they don’t. But a hint of regret can always be found in their goodbyes, when their fingers loosen to freedom they don’t want. Then Chanyeol would wait until Yifan is gone from his sight before he continues his way home.
Everything is commonplace. Ordinary and plain. Pages of their everyday that they don’t bookmark for recollection. If either of them could pick a piece of memory to preserve forever, this wouldn’t be it. But it is still the most beautiful time of their lives. It is beautiful when you hold love in your hands and you believe that, against all odds, it would last forever.
★
This Sunday, Yifan has his day off and Chanyeol is hanging out in his small apartment. Unfortunately, it’s also Lu Han’s day off. When he returns home after running some errands to find Chanyeol lying on the couch with his head on Yifan’s lap, watching what must be some melodramatic movie (Chanyeol looks like he’s trying not to be too emotional), he clucks his tongue and marches straight to the toilet for a shower.
“He doesn’t like me,” Chanyeol says, a little sadly, tilting his head up to look at Yifan. But Yifan suspects his sadness might be due to the death of the female lead.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” Yifan explains. “Lu Han and I grew up together.” Chanyeol nods, eyes still on Yifan. This is no surprise. The interaction between Yifan and Lu Han is more like that of brothers than friends. Yifan looks out for Lu Han in more ways than he knows. He knows when Lu Han is just throwing a tantrum for the sake of getting his attention and when he’s really upset. Chanyeol thinks Lu Han is simply being difficult all the time. “In the orphanage,” Yifan continues and feels Chanyeol stir at his words. When he sits up, Yifan gazes into his eyes and asks, “Does it bother you?”
“No!” Chanyeol shouts, alarmed by the idea of it. “No, no, no, no,” he repeats. He takes Yifan’s hand. “No.” It’s a soft murmur this time. His thumbs are pressed into the soft center of Yifan’s palm as he holds it with both hands.
But the truth is, it does bother Chanyeol. It haunts him from time to time for years to come and makes him feel inexplicably lonely, consoled only when he reaches out for Yifan and he is there, relieving the pain he causes Chanyeol. And it’s times like this that Chanyeol feels glad for his own existence. When the sun rains on the path that winds back home and carves dark shapes on the road, Yifan’s shadow is never alone.
Smiling, Yifan pulls Chanyeol back into his arms. “There were a lot of girls, some of the children were born with disabilities, some were sick. But we were boys and we were healthy. The fact remained that we were all unwanted.”
“But your parents didn’t abandon you.” Chanyeol consolingly strokes the hair at Yifan’s nape and recalls what Yifan told him in the café.
“Yeah,” Yifan mumbles into Chanyeol’s neck, “yeah.” The emotion in his voice is indistinguishable.
“You are not an orphan anymore. I will dote on you,” Chanyeol says, getting up from Yifan’s embrace. He kneels on the couch beside Yifan and cups his hand around the side of Yifan's face. “I will spoil you.”
“You already do,” Yifan mumbles, leaning into Chanyeol’s touch. But no, Chanyeol thinks, this is not enough. He wants to make up for all that Yifan has lost.
“Is this why Lu Han is so reliant on you?” asks Chanyeol.
“The boys in school often picked on Lu Han because he had no parents. He was really small when he was a kid.”
“And you were there.”
“And I was there.”
“A big nasty oversized bully.”
“Sun Wukong trapped in the body of a primary school kid.”
“Sun-what?”
“Nevermind,” Yifan says and wraps an arm around Chanyeol’s waist. “We took off after graduating from high school, earned enough money for plane tickets and left without a thought. Home was just too unhappy a place and Lu Han had a friend here who could help us get jobs. I'd been in Seoul for three years when I met you. Don’t worry about Lu Han, he’ll get over it when he finds someone, too.”
Chanyeol tips his head forward in a nod and meets Lu Han’s eyes when he comes out of the bathroom and into the living room. Ignoring Chanyeol who’s giving him please-love-me looks, Lu Han meanders into his room and flops onto his bed, realizing too late that he’s lying on something soft, something warm, something Jongin.
Lu Han flips right up like bread out of a toaster with very strong springs. And lands back onto Jongin.
“Hey, darling. I miss you. You feel really good on me, by the way.”
Back in the living room, Chanyeol and Yifan hear what might be the crack of a towel and a shrill cry.
“Are you sure about this matchmaking business?” Yifan yawns and is rewarded by a cushion in his face. It’s an early sign of domestic violence.
“Shut up. I can’t hear.” Chanyeol’s attention is diverted by the duty of eavesdropping. Yifan tickles his ears for his attention, but gets a half-hearted kick in the stomach. So he starts tickling Chanyeol’s foot instead, stopping when the kicks become serious.
“Get off my bed!” They hear Lu Han growl dangerously. “No one is allowed to defile Lu Han’s bed,” quips Yifan helpfully. As a considerate friend, Chanyeol carefully tucks this piece of information away for Jongin. When he sees that Chanyeol is still frowning in concentration, Yifan decides that’s quite enough. He pushes down on Chanyeol’s shoulders until his back meets the couch and he is pinned down under Yifan.
It works.
Staring up at Yifan who’s smiling most devilishly, Chanyeol feels his heart crack open and spill love, when he sees the child in him. He doesn’t want to talk about Yifan’s past because he doesn’t want him to relive it all. Yet Chanyeol grieves. His arms form a loop around Yifan’s neck and his hold tightens until they collide.
“I will give you a home.”
The promise is whispered onto Yifan’s skin and seared into his being. For a moment, he closes his eyes and breathes, inhaling Chanyeol. In the next exhale, Yifan lays the strain of his entire weight on him, like how a kite with a broken string relies on a steady current of wind - with abandon and a whole world of faith. It doesn’t matter then that Yifan has always felt the need to take Chanyeol under his wing, that Chanyeol is in fact two years younger without an ounce of real-world experience and sees everything in rainbow shades. What Yifan craves for, Chanyeol will provide.
When Chanyeol’s stroking hand on his back dissipates the tension vibrating through him, Yifan tips his head forward in a nod. The hardest glass breaks the easiest.
This is the first time they talk about the future.
★
After whipping Jongin with his wet towel, Lu Han struggles to get up but his foot gets caught in the blanket and he trips back into Jongin’s waiting arms instead.
“Your efforts are futile.” His tone is teasing but suddenly, there are fingers gently sweeping Lu Han’s wet bangs to the side. The softness in Jongin’s touch stills Lu Han’s struggles. He has been gearing up for a fight and not the enveloping warmth of Jongin’s embrace. It isn’t easy to resist the security he finds in it.
Honestly, he has been expecting Jongin. When Chanyeol drops by, he always brings Jongin who seems to think that he has some sort of proprietary rights over Lu Han, whether it’s a loose arm over his shoulders or the way he sometimes answers questions for him. But the element of surprise and anger is a nice defense mechanism and Lu Han is not ready to shed his mask yet. It’s puzzling, actually. The way Jongin has barged into his life, demanding changes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Especially when changes are so terrifying to Lu Han.
“Why are you nervous around me?” Those fingers sift through Lu Han’s wet hair, revealing the curve of an ear and a crease between brows. But the imp isn’t fighting him off this time. Jongin takes advantage of this by placing an arm across Lu Han’s waist, pulling him even closer.
“I’m not, it was the blanket!” Lu Han snaps, although he remains in Jongin’s arms.
“Why are you always so angry?” Jongin plays with a tuft of Lu Han’s hair, drawing the water out.
“Is it because you’re so sad?” A finger catches a drop of water near Lu Han’s temple and cuts a slow meandering path down his cheek, mimicking the flow of tears. It’s barely a whisper, but the emotions his words stir in Lu Han are frightening. Jongin knows the moment is gone when Lu Han’s shoulders go taut. He sighs regretfully.
A few weeks ago, when Yifan went to pick Chanyeol up after school, Jongin asked him about Lu Han without expecting an answer. So he was surprised when Yifan told him, after pushing Chanyeol away (he lingered in the background, with his sad puppy eyes and left out feelings). “Why are you telling me this?” he asked. Yifan jabbed a thumb in the direction of Chanyeol and said, “He said you were ok.” Rolling his eyes, Jongin said, “You know he hardly has a bad opinion of anyone, right?” But Yifan just smiled. Jongin felt a little lonely then, when Chanyeol came running over at Yifan’s wave, his grin brighter than usual. How the hell was that even possible? Dimly, he wondered how Lu Han felt around them and he wonders how he feels now.
Lu Han has thrown his arm off and leaped up from the bed. He stands before Jongin, chest heaving with what must be wrath. It is apparent in the flush found on his cheeks but that isn't what Jongin wants to know. And fighting hurts, Jongin doesn’t like it. Before Lu Han could unleash his anger, he sits up and pulls him over. “I will miss you.” Lips brush against his ear and Lu Han knows Jongin can feel his pulse beat out a shaky rhythm. The revelation is more intimate than heated caresses and he flinches. Before Lu Han could push him away, Jongin lets go. Startled by the sudden lack of contact, Lu Han blinks, feeling strangely unsatisfied; a story without a conclusion.
Spinning on his heel, the last Lu Han can see of Jongin is the hem of his shirt disappearing behind the door of his bedroom. He didn’t expect to feel disappointment at Jongin’s departure. Exhaustion causes him to flop over on his bed and that’s when he sees it. A bear keychain on his pillow. Lu Han picks it up. The tiny brown bear is wearing an unbuttoned white shirt over a navy tee. It’s one of Jongin’s gifts to him, what Chanyeol has taken to calling ‘Jongin’s nasty little love traps’ (Lu Han had thrown the bottle of eye-wrinkle cream into Jongin’s face though).
Viciously, Lu Han squeezes the poor bear, imagining it to be Jongin. Then he unfurls his fist and stares at the bear. It stares back. How rude, just like its owner! Scowling, Lu Han flicks its beady nose with a finger. Then he holds it up by the chain, watching it dangle back and forth, thoughts already straying. He closes his eyes, recalling how reassuring it felt to be held.
Lu Han didn’t know he had been craving for this; it’s scary to want something, to possess is to harbor a fear. You never have to be afraid of losing something you never had, you won’t have memories to remind you to be sad. But Lu Han thinks it might be worth it, even if it’s just for a short while. He would like to be happy.
Softly, Lu Han cups the bear in his hands and lets longing fill him up to the brim.
★
That night, after Chanyeol has long left, Yifan explains to him over a bowl of takeout jajangmyeon in their living room. “This is a pair of chopsticks.” Lu Han ignores him and digs into his noodles after he has mixed the sauce in. Flecks of black soybean sauce begin flying everywhere.
Yifan shifts further away from Lu Han on the couch and repeats, “This is a pair of chopsticks.” Lu Han grabs Yifan’s bowl of noodles so he shuts up and eats before his gege steals his food.
“This is a pair of chopsticks.” But the once clean pair of disposable chopsticks is now stained with sauce. Clearly, Yifan is going to die trying. So Lu Han decides he might as well die. Throwing a cushion into Yifan’s face, Lu Han leaps onto him and attempts murder but alas, he’s cute Bambi while his didi is a flying dragon (animals are much more fearsome if they can fly, e.g. roaches).
“This is a pair of-”
“Chopsticks!” Lu Han spits out, ”I know.” He’s being pinned down onto the couch by an arm and a leg.
“Glad you see.” Yifan’s easy smile is pissing Lu Han off so he quickly goes on with his chopsticks story. “Remember that fable in our textbook when we were in Primary Two? That one with the chopsticks?”
Lu Han stops struggling and thinks. “No.”
Ogling at him, Yifan says, “You broke nearly all the chopsticks in the orphanage and old Madam Wong chased you all over the yard with a feather duster.”
But Lu Han shakes his head.
The sigh is longdrawn. Removing his hold on Lu Han, Yifan says, “The moral of that story is, a single chopstick breaks easily,” he bends the single bamboo chopstick in his hand and it splinters into half, “but a bunch of them won’t, unity is strength. Anyway, here’s a twist to that tale.” Tossing the corpse of the broken chopstick over to the coffee table, he takes one of Lu Han’s used chopsticks and puts it together with his remaining good one so that they appear to be whole again, still unsplit. Lu Han believes Yifan has been reading too much Cai Kangyong lately, maybe that’s why he sees the need to dispense bad advice.
“You’d need to use more strength to break the disposable chopsticks if you didn't split them. But it’s only when you crack them apart,” Yifan separates the chopsticks, pulling them apart before putting them together again and gesturing as he would if he were picking up a thick glistening slice of braised pork belly, “that they become a pair and fulfill their use as chopsticks.”
“Why be so strong alone when you could become part of a pair?” Yifan asks kindly, before he gets up and clears the table, giving Lu Han some time to digest his noodles and thoughts.
Cheng shuang cheng dui, good things come in pairs. Lu Han suddenly recalls the glittery red words he once saw in a Chinese restaurant when he was working as a kitchen helper. A wedding banquet was to be held that night and the character 囍 was taped flimsily onto every single door. Shuang xi, double happiness, when in fact, only one happy event was to take place.
Lu Han has always thought 喜 looks so lonely after that.
★
Yifan has work the next day, so Chanyeol finds him at the bookstore after school. He picks up the stiff atmosphere immediately. “What’s wrong?” Today, the counter is unusually neat and tidy at the customer service section. All the magazines that used to be haphazardly stacked behind the counter are now standing neatly on the reservation shelf.
“Some surprise store visit by the chairman. How do I look?” Yifan looks devastating in his ugly uniform, of course, but Chanyeol is suddenly distracted.
“Oh, I guess I'd better get going then. Don’t want to disturb you.” But Yifan grabs his black backpack and drags him back. “Stay, we can go for dinner later. I can knock off work earlier today.”
“No, um, I have too much work to do.” Chanyeol starts making meaningless gestures and Yifan looks at him with questioning eyes. The kid is worried about not finishing his assignments. That’s new.
“Quick!” Lu Han scampers over to stand beside Yifan at the counter. “He’s here!”
There’s a flurry of activity near the entrance and the commotion quickly nears the Chinese section, as it’s located close to the entrance. It’s too late to run without attracting attention, so Chanyeol quickly hides his face by bending over to bow deeply like how Yifan and Lu Han are doing beside him.
“What are you doing!” hisses Lu Han. But Chanyeol ignores him with a deep scowl on his face. The frown intensifies when a pair of brown leather shoes appear in front of him. He recognizes the shoes but refuses to acknowledge it.
“Lift your head.” Curt and crisp, it is a command that Chanyeol is accustomed to and he cannot defy the instinct to obey. Slowly, he straightens up but his eyes stay focused on the floor. The scowl has smoothed itself out. The flagrant display of displeasure is not allowed, not in front of this man who holds himself with the air of a person who’s used to unquestionable authority. He compliments it with an expensive-looking black suit and salt and pepper hair, the streaks of silver adding on to his imposing aura. They are of almost the same height and share the same facial features, which set off the crowd of senior management following behind Mr. Park, although they only dare share covert pointed looks in suppressed silence. But upon closer examination, Chanyeol’s full lips and wide eyes lend him a softer look while his father’s sharp brows and nose serve to flatter his impressive stature even more. It’s true that Chanyeol has always taken after his mother more, both in demeanor and appearance.
When Mr. Park fixes a steely gaze on Chanyeol, the latter swallows and bends his spine a little in submission. “Follow me,” Mr. Park orders and walks off, gait steady and confident.
But Chanyeol hesitates. He looks down at Yifan who’s still bowing, clearly reluctant to move away from his side. There are so many things to explain. His father has paused mid-step, however, taken aback when he doesn’t sense Chanyeol behind him. There’s no need to call out to him, the order to obey is in his eyes and Chanyeol heeds, finally leaving Yifan’s side. “I will call you,” he says lowly and quickly moves to follow his father.
Before the entourage move off, Yifan raises his head and meets Mr. Park’s eyes. They keep their eyes locked in contact, breaking off only when a man in the pack starts talking to Mr. Park. And it’s only when they are out of sight that Yifan straightens his back. “What the hell was that?” Lu Han exclaims. But he isn’t the only confused one.
After work, Yifan waits for Chanyeol in the café they frequent; he has promised him dinner. But Chanyeol never calls.
★
Yifan wakes up to something blue flashing in front of him. He shakes his head to throw off the sense of disorientation. The stupor clears fairly quickly but the flash of blue remains. For a moment, he panics and swipes his face with a hand, almost slapping himself in the process. Something falls onto his chest. It’s a post-it, already crinkled with abuse. Written on it, in cute squiggly handwriting, is his name.
And an emoticon.
吴亦凡ㅠㅠ
Yifan drops his head back to his pillow and sighs when he checks the time on his handphone. Only 11:15 a.m. It’s too early to be this cute. He burrows deeper into his covers, savoring his day off. But only for a minute.
The truth is, Yifan does miss him a little.
He successfully gets out of bed, feeling like he's just fought a war and won. Sure enough, when he paddles out to the living room, he sees Chanyeol sitting with his legs folded on the black couch, hands placed on his knees, as if he’s deep in mediation. Or maybe, this isn’t Chanyeol at all, because his entire face is covered with colorful post-its. Settling down beside him on the sofa, Yifan takes his time making his decision and Chanyeol grows impatient. (Hey, try sticking post-its on your face. It isn't the most comfortable thing to do.) Because he can’t see, all he can do is to point at the general direction of his right eye. The green post-it stuck over his eye reads 凡凡凡. Yifan chuckles and removes it. Finally, Chanyeol can see him. It’s been more than a week since they last saw each other.
As far as right eyes go, Chanyeol’s seems pretty sad. Reaching over, Yifan erases the small crease between his brows with a thumb. Then he smiles to let Chanyeol know he’s alright, they’re fine. Something glazes over Chanyeol’s eye and he next points to the orange post-it over his mouth. 亦凡!!! is scribbled on it, accompanied by a fat little heart. Yifan dutifully tears it off to reveal a wobbly pout.
“Gege, gege.” It’s a piteous whimper.
Crossing his arms and leaning back onto the couch, Yifan asks, “I taught you how to write my name but who taught you this?”
But in a cute albeit still deep voice, all Chanyeol says is, “Dui bu qi, gege.” When Yifan doesn’t reciprocate (well, he lifted a brow but it wasn’t the correct reaction), Chanyeol tries again, sticking his lower lip out adorably and looking suitably three years-old. ” Yifan gege… gege…” He tugs at Yifan’s sleeve.
Chanyeol abandons his cute Chinese act when even the eyebrow antic ceases. “Erm, I have a friend who majors in Chinese.”
“Ah.”
Then there’s silence. Chanyeol summons both courage and wit from his being.
“And my father might own a chain of bookstores…” His right eye swivels from left to right and then back again.
“Along with a publishing company, is that right?”
“Uh, I’m not so sure about that.”
“You should check it on Naver, Canlie didi. It’s there,” Yifan says kindly. “Tell me again, why are you at the bookstore every Wednesday?”
Chanyeol groans and surrenders. “School does end earlier on Wednesdays, so it’s the best time to go. The first time we met, I visited late because I was out with Jongin the whole day.” He closes his eyes, or at least his right eye anyway, Yifan can’t tell. “My father quizzes me on store operations every Thursday morning, our own ‘Weekly Operation Review’. It’s practiced in the company on Thursdays and he practices it at home, getting my answers before work and then matching them with the reports people submit to him. I go to check out the latest arrivals, the best-selling titles, whatever. He sometimes asks me about store decorations. I don’t know, alright. I just don’t want it to come between us. Does it really matter?”
“It matters to me.” But of course it is important. Yifan might not have a lot of things but he treasures his pride and wears it like an accessory. And Chanyeol knows this, despite his question. It’s exactly why he has refrained from telling Yifan. Wu Yifan means I could have nothing under my name but I still stand as an equal with everyone. The memory now burns in Chanyeol’s mind. Technically, he hasn’t lied to Yifan but can concealment truly be considered a lesser evil? Probably not, from Yifan’s point of view.
“You don’t know what you want to be. But the fact is, you don’t even need to decide. Your father is going to hand over his business to you.” His right eye snaps open, but Chanyeol bites his lips, allowing no words to escape. Yifan takes his silence as a concession. “What happens if your answers are wrong?”
Chanyeol lowers his eyes and takes more time than necessary with the reply. “I have never been wrong.”
But of course, Chanyeol will not fail his father. “I haven’t seen you for the past week. Why haven’t you been replying to my messages?”
Utterly defeated, Chanyeol rips the pink post-it (凡형) over his left eye so he can be sad properly. “I’m kind of grounded at the moment. My phone’s been confiscated.” In contrast with his depressed mood, the remaining post-its on his face flutter happily whenever he utilizes his facial muscles. “Anyway, my father left for a business trip today so I snuck out.”
“Why are you grounded?” Chanyeol’s stubbornness is a flaw, Yifan muses. He can detect it now in the downturned ends of his lips and the determined glower he wears on his face. But Chanyeol’s honesty is also a flaw. He would rather stay a mute than lie, and currently, a pause is weighing down heavily on them.
“Because you have been caught hanging around with the wrong company.” The answer isn’t too hard to guess and Yifan knows he’s right when Chanyeol averts his eyes. He has one last question. “Does your father knows his son is gay and dating his employee?”
This is too much to handle. Chanyeol closes his eyes again and keels over on the couch, playing dead. But he would need more than cuteness to save him now.
“I’m your dirty little secret.”
“No!” Immediately, Chanyeol shoots up from where he’s sprawled across the couch and pounces on Yifan, pinning him down and locking him into a fierce hug. He doesn’t care that Yifan might push him away, nor does it matter to him that they’re probably in the middle of a fight and physical contact might not be the best idea. Because the last thing he wants Yifan to think is that Chanyeol is ashamed of him. This is not true. This is the furthest one could be away from the truth. Chanyeol has a lot more things than Yifan, but he has never wanted anything, anyone, more than him.
“No,” he repeats, forcefully holding Yifan down where he is, “you don’t know what you mean to me.” Chanyeol pushes himself off Yifan to stare into his eyes. It’s sort of hilarious the way the post-its are still sticking onto his face; they can clearly withstand even the strongest emotional outbursts, although curled at the corners already. But no one is laughing and when Yifan hears what Chanyeol says next, a flicker of a spark comes to life within him, the warmth so unbearable that it’s painful to contain. With every breath, it threatens to snap the seams of his being, scattering pieces of him that have been stitched together so painstakingly. All these years of careful living.
“I want to be important to you,” Chanyeol says slowly and earnestly. “Like how important you are to me.”
It hurts so much. Yifan’s hand reaches out to cup Chanyeol’s neck, his wrist is a light pressure against the frenzied pulse. He peels the post-its off to reveal Chanyeol’s face, shining with hope. “You are important.” You are the fiercest streak of brilliance in my life.
The reply is simple but Chanyeol knows the weight of it. Collapsing on top of him, Chanyeol tucks his face into Yifan’s neck and says with urgency, “I can’t be with you yet, not now, we can’t. My father, he will never allow. Do you understand?” Yifan bobs his head in comprehension and feels relief resonate throughout Chanyeol’s body. “Will you wait for me?” Always accommodating, Yifan says yes. Chanyeol brushes his lips against Yifan’s jaw, the kiss too eager and ephemeral to be real. But this is Chanyeol and he is now pressed against his body, pushing himself even more into his heart, breaking and mending Yifan, all at the same time. How could this be? Yifan thinks as he tilts Chanyeol’s chin up and angles in, each kiss a silent cry of yearning. He wants this so much. He will wait.
Just wait. Chanyeol’s stubbornness is a virtue. And his strength is exactly what they will need to pull them through the darkest days. But there are things that are telling only with the passage of time, and they are so young, so young.
★
Jongin watches Lu Han peep at Yifan and Chanyeol from behind his bedroom door. “You know, Yifan is not going to leave you.” Side-eyeing Jongin, Lu Han strolls to his bed and flops onto it. “Why do you think I opened the door for that kid.” The tone isn’t friendly but it isn’t hostile either. Jongin smiles and hands Lu Han a mailing tube. “For you.”
Casting the ‘nasty little love trap’ a wary eye, Lu Han deliberates for a while before taking it. There’s a poster inside. He unrolls it.
“I,” he starts and stops, staring at the image of the football player.
“It’s Ronaldo.” Pleased that he has done his Lu Han research well, Jongin beams at him, expecting some form of reciprocation.
“…it’s Ronaldo from Brazil.”
‘And?’ Jongin thinks, clearly not knowing where this is heading.
“I like Cristiano Ronaldo, not Ronaldo.”
Lu Han has just said that he likes Ronaldo but not Ronaldo. This is too difficult for Jongin (and all other mere mortals outside of the football fandom) and he narrows his eyes.
“But thank you.” Lu Han walks to his cabinet then, opens a drawer and throws something that he retrieves from it at Jongin who catches it in time. It’s a pink polka-dot deer keychain and has a 鹿 stitched onto the side of its body in navy threads. There’s even an adorable small beige backpack on its back. “Payback,” Lu Han says.
“Cute,” Jongin grins. There’s something on Lu Han’s face that might be the hybrid of a smile and a scowl. It’s awkward but at least it’s genuine. Jongin thinks that Lu Han’s awkward smile is beautiful.
In this moment, a heart opens up and Jongin walks in.
★
When Yifan and Chanyeol next meet, it is already December, a month later at the company’s annual dinner which is held in a hotel ballroom with plush red carpeting and round tables draped with heavy tablecloth. A vase filled with fresh flowers sits at every table. They will be thrown away immediately after the banquet, wilted only around the edges. The next customer might be picky with the choice of flowers and they usually are. Wedding dinners are the worst, brides-to-be are the nastiest people in the whole world. Yifan knows this because he once worked part-time as a waiter in a hotel before. But today, he enters as a guest. He wears a crisp white shirt, neatly pressed and starched so that it matches his state of mind.
During this span of time, Yifan has sat through an interview for the position of assistant book buyer at another local bookstore, not as large as the one he works in but it still houses a sizable Chinese book section. Lu Han’s friend, Yixing - the same person who helped them get their current jobs at the bookstore - clinched this opportunity for him through some vital contacts. The interviewer didn’t want Yifan, honestly. They wanted a Korean who could read and speak Chinese but interviewed without success. Yifan was a Chinese who spoke good Korean and although he wasn't exactly what they were looking for, Yixing had a few choice words for the interviewers. ‘The Chinese are hardworking people,’ he exclaimed, ‘they are responsible and will work beyond what you’ll be paying for them!’
It’s a junior position, he was told at the interview, and they are unable to give him a pay increase. However, he will be given guidance and there’s a chance to be promoted to the position of book buyer. When Lu Han and he sit down at their table located just beside the aisle at the edge of the entrance, his mobile rings and it’s Yixing, notifying that he has the job.
He looks up smiling and stills when he sees Chanyeol stride past his table, standing tall with his father at his side, looking just as impassive. A grey suit adheres to his lanky frame, it’s a perfect fit. He fills the suit perfectly, fills his rightful place as an heir perfectly. But Yifan can still remember how the cotton of Chanyeol’s tee felt against his cheek; it feels like yesterday. There’s no sign of acknowledgement on Chanyeol’s face, it is so free of expression that Yifan almost doesn’t recognize him. But he does. Yifan would be able to pinpoint Chanyeol in a sea of layered faces. Out of sheer instinct, he would turn to him.
His eyes stay unwavering on Chanyeol until father and son are seated at the table in the middle of the ballroom, far away from him. Lu Han places a consoling hand on his knee under the table and Yifan’s smile returns as he turns back to him. When his vision flits over once again, however, he clashes with Chanyeol’s gaze. His father is gone, busy entertaining the guest of honor and he sits alone at the big table.
I miss you, Chanyeol mouths to him, across the distance, looking so familiar now. Yifan takes a deep breath and lowers his eyes, exhaling his fear of being forgotten. At the next instance, he lifts his eyes up, letting his fake smile evaporates into loneliness, mirroring Chanyeol’s expression.
I miss you, too.
★
After the dinner, he waits outside the hotel, letting the cold bite his fingers. It’s nearing midnight and Lu Han has already reached home. He sends a message in Chinese. Hui jia, it says. Come home.
But Yifan wants another home. So he loiters. Sticking his hands into the pockets of his black pea coat, Yifan throws a look at the bellboy who has been staring at him through the large slanted glass doors of the hotel. It’s too cold to be standing out here in the dead of winter and Yifan has been waiting for a good hour. But it’s worth it, he thinks when a minute later, he looks up and sees Chanyeol rounding the corner and sprinting up to him in the dark, scarf flying, hair ruffled by the harsh wind, cheeks red with exertion. Yifan will remember the image of Chanyeol running up to him for a long time, exhilaration and desperation alternating at every step. That blazing look on his face.
His speed doesn’t falter even as he nears, choosing to crash into Yifan instead, the impact causing his back to hit the hotel’s wall with a thud. Yifan finds himself breathless as well when his arms go around Chanyeol, as if he too, had to fly across just as large a distance in order to close in on him. And maybe he did.
“I-I lied!” Chanyeol is still panting, he sounds excited. “I said I left my wallet at the hotel!” When he pulls a little away to look at Yifan’s face, however, his excitement at being a new rebel quickly slips away and is replaced by what seems to be melancholy. He leans in and presses his forehead against Yifan’s, clenching his jaw tight. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. There is little happiness to be found in this touch, just intolerable pangs of longing.
“Where’s your wallet?” Yifan whispers against Chanyeol’s lips.
“In the trashbin just outside the ballroom, probably already gone,” he mumbles, looking directly into Yifan’s eyes. “You waited.”
“I waited.” Yifan nods and closes his eyes, allowing Chanyeol to tilt his head a little and fuse their mouths together. When his tongue touches Chanyeol’s, he feels Chanyeol shiver in his embrace. They kiss for some time before Yifan recovers his senses. They are too reckless. Grabbing the lapels of Chanyeol’s coat, Yifan pulls him into the shadows of the trees. “I have a new job,” he says harshly between kisses and sees Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide. Laughing lowly, he presses a kiss on Chanyeol’s cheek, the heat on his skin has long dissipated. He cups Chanyeol’s face with both hands, trying to warm him up but his touch is even colder and Yifan ends up stealing heat instead.
Chanyeol doesn’t push him away though; he places a hand on Yifan’s shoulder, grip suddenly fierce and unrelenting. “When will you resign?”
“Tomorrow.” Nodding shakily, Chanyeol stutters as the cold from Yifan seeps into him, “I-I will tell h-him. He isn’t as guarded now. D-didn’t even bother following me here.” Yifan doesn’t need to ask to know who Chanyeol is referring to. He also knows Chanyeol is afraid. The shivers are not only because of the cold.
“You don’t have to,” Yifan says gently, thumb stroking his cheek. If it’s so hard for Chanyeol, they can stay a secret.
“No, no,” Chanyeol shakes his head in agitation, “I have to. We,” he swallows hard and doesn’t complete his sentence. The idea of being apart just wouldn’t do. Would never do. The simple truth is Chanyeol cannot part with Yifan.
We. For the two of them, this is what Chanyeol needs to do.
“I’ll wait,” Yifan renews his promise. And he knows Chanyeol will, too. Yifan knows it in the look Chanyeol gives him before he turns and dives back into the dark, so far away from him.
★
Two weeks later, Yifan commences work as an assistant book buyer. From an experienced book buyer, he learns that his responsibilities encompass far more than that of stocking up titles. He also has to plan events, deal with publicity matters and customers’ enquiries. Although Yifan now has an office desk, everyday he has to walk the floor and check the merchandising displays. Instead of oak brown, his new bookstore has bamboo flooring, the bookshelves in a shade of forest green. He works with a publisher based in Hong Kong, meeting its overseas Chinese representative on a regular basis. This is the most exciting aspect of Yifan’s job. He gets to hear the rep talk about the season’s latest titles, run his fingers across the spines of books so new, few know of its contents. And in a matter of seconds, he has to provide his input and assist the book buyer in making his decision on whether the bookstore will stock up the title.
The tricky thing about dreams is that they sometimes come with strings attached. Yifan doesn't only have to deal with literature but also books on parenting, cooking, economics; the list goes on. The work is sometimes mundane and not exactly what he imagined it to be. But he figures fulfilling half a dream is not half bad at all, it’s half good.
He is busy. The gears of his mind are ticking furiously in the day. But at night, when the chaos of his world trickle down to the solo beat of his heart, he thinks only about Chanyeol. It is not a conscious decision. The process of recollection is seeded within him without any form of control. Yifan cannot stop his memories from consuming him but even as they do, one single stream of thought rises above all: he is remembered as well.
He is not alone in this. Whatever ‘this’ is. Whatever ‘this’ could be.
★