UPSIDE FORWARD for RISEANDRAIN [5/7]

[yeolliepopday]

Winter break and January

Chanyeol drags his suitcase to his parents’ house as soon as his class is over the next day. He does two months of laundry, peels potatoes, carrots, and onions for jeon, drinks beer with Yura and his dad’s best friend, and in fact does not make it back to the dance building until Tuesday.

Fortunately for Chanyeol and Jongin, Krystal gets herself a boyfriend sometime over the holiday weekend and is too preoccupied indulging in Young Love (i.e., updating social media with repetitive couple selcas and sappy quotes more obsessively than Luhan) to tease them.

Winter break settles into a comfortable rhythm after New Year’s. Chanyeol studies at the library after class or gets coffee with Jongin. At least a few nights a week they end up at Chanyeol’s, huddled in front of another romance film (courtesy of Sehun) with a box of pizza or chicken open on the table between them. Baekhyun shows up with soju and gochu flavor chips on nights when Yoona’s busy and they sleep in a pile on blankets spread over the ondol. It almost feels like high school again, back when Baekhyun and Jongdae would sleep over after late night study sessions.

It all feels really nice until Baekhyun starts to raise his eyebrows. Chanyeol can feel him staring whenever a tipsy Jongin snuggles against his chest or when Chanyeol threads gentle fingers into Jongin’s messy hair. It’s not like Baekhyun to judge, especially not since he’s a clingy bastard himself, so Chanyeol shoves the faint stirring of unease back down in his chest. He’s secretly glad, though, that Baekhyun isn’t around the weekend they go out with Minseok for Jongin’s birthday and wake up the next morning in Chanyeol’s bed, just the two of them in boxers and shirts.

Chanyeol doesn’t ask about the staring and Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, at least until he shows up for Sunday brunch in late January and finds Jongin’s sneakers by the door.

“Do you already have company?” Baekhyun toes off his shoes and slides a loaf of bread onto the counter.

“No, just Jongin.” Chanyeol gestures with the handle of his knife at the bathroom door. The shower’s on full blast, tendrils of steam working their way under the door.

“Ah,” Baekhyun nods, fiddling with the handle of the silverware drawer. He boosts himself onto the counter next to the bread.

“We were drinking last night.”

“Does your bf know Jongin’s practically moved in with you?” Baekhyun laughs softly, but his eyes dart to the cherry blossom pink cup on the edge of the sink with Jongin’s purple toothbrush in it.

“You know, Jongin is the one who pretty much set us up, Baek! Of course Luhan hyung wouldn’t care.” Chanyeol slices an onion in half and picks at the papery skin with the point of his knife.

“That’s not what I asked.” Baekhyun’s voice is quiet, maybe so Jongin can’t hear them over the running water. Chanyeol sets down the knife and tries to count the bristles of his red toothbrush in the mug next to Jongin’s but the morning sunlight blurs any delineation of the translucent fibers. “Does he know Jongin’s over all the time now?”

“But you’re like, never here, Baek. So how would you know if Jongin is around all the time.”

“My point exactly. If I visit so sporadically and Jongin is here every time, his visits can’t be random.”

“Oh.” Now that Chanyeol thinks of it, Jongin has been around rather a lot lately. The shower shuts off and Baekhyun lets it slide, hopping down from the counter to root through Chanyeol’s fridge. Jongin pads out of the bathroom in fitted tracksuit pants and one of Chanyeol’s T-shirts, spraying droplets as he shakes the wet from his thick hair.

“Does someone need a towel?” Baekhyun asks loudly, wiping the back of his neck and flicking the water right back at Jongin. Jongin laughs, the stretched out neckline of Chanyeol’s too big shirt slipping over his shoulder. Chanyeol turns abruptly, twisting on the faucet to rinse the withered carrots Baekhyun’s excavated from the produce drawer that hasn’t been opened since finals week.

“Fuck! Hot!” He somehow forgot the water heater was turned up for the shower, somewhere between the smooth jut of Jongin’s collarbone and corded muscles shifting under his tan skin. Fuck.

“You dumbass!” Baekhyun pulls a tray of ice cubes from the freezer and dumps them over Chanyeol’s scalded fingers, shoving his hands back under the water as soon as it runs cold. “What kind of idiot washes veggies in hot water anyway?”

“Hyung, are you ok?” Jongin’s sliding his palm up the length of Chanyeol’s arm then down to his elbow just like Luhan always does when Chanyeol’s had a rough day and Chanyeol’s eyes are stinging and Baekhyun’s carefully massaging his tender skin under the freezing blast from the sink and Chanyeol misses Luhan and fuck, he just wanted an omelette for breakfast but now Chanyeol realizes with a dizzying flash he doesn’t know what he wants anymore.

“Whoa, there!” Baekhyun catches him by the elbow as the floor dips suddenly. They help him to the sofa and Baekhyun leaves Jongin and an ice pack with Chanyeol before returning to the stove. Jongin turns on the TV. Conan’s on.

“Do you want to watch something else?” Jongin whispers into his cheek, his body still radiating heat from the shower slung along the armrest and sofa back. Chanyeol shakes his head and leans back. This is nice, he hasn’t had time for cartoons in awhile. Jongin drops the remote, already chuckling at something on the screen. Chanyeol licks his lips and forces himself not to stare at Jongin’s profile. He tries to focus on the details of the mystery but Baekhyun keeps distracting him, glancing over towards the sofa as he burns their breakfast.

Chanyeol is... confused. He realizes this as soon as Baekhyun and Jongin leave together for the station, leaving him alone in an empty room with an empty bed that is too full of extra blankets. So he emails Kris about it. Nothing specific, just a brief mention of a very general sort of confusion slipped in between carefully composed lines about the wintry weather and his term paper on the chemistry of cobalt glazes. Kris apparently agrees with Baekhyun that this is serious and promptly makes a Skype appointment with Chanyeol.

“Have you talked to Luhan much lately?” Kris’ voice sounds carefully neutral, like he’s critiquing one of Kyungsoo’s cooking experiments with what Minseok calls “diplomatic honesty”. Chanyeol isn’t used to that tone of voice, at least not directed at him.

“I talked to him on Christmas,” Chanyeol says quickly, stirring his mug of hot chocolate with a bent spoon. “Well, it was on his Christmas. Why? Have you?”

“Mmhm.” Kris pushes up the sleeves of his jersey. Maybe it’s just the crappy webcam, but his face looks hollow, the skin under his eyes sunken and bruised.

“And?”

“He seems to think you’re upset with him.”

“Me? Upset with him? I told him it wasn’t a big deal my present’s coming late!” If anything, the apology Luhan emailed last week made Chanyeol feel better, since he had totally forgotten to even look for Luhan’s gift until Jongin reminded him about it the night of the recital.

“And there’s nothing else bothering you?” Kris prods. Chanyeol tries to focus on Kris’ teeth nibbling at his thin lips, instead of the picture of Luhan smiling next to someone else. “Chanyeol, Luhan can’t make it up to you if he doesn’t know why you’re mad.”

“I’m not--!” Chanyeol huffs into his mug and a rush of steam billows up. “Look, I’m not mad, I’m just…” Lonely. Miserable. Slightly Jealous. That’s all.

“Ok, ok.” Kris slides a hand through his freshly bleached hair and Chanyeol’s next breath comes easier now that he’s backing off. He takes a sip, swirls the chocolate under his tongue. “Oh, and I got an email from Baekhyun.” Chanyeol chokes on a tiny dehydrated marshmallow.

“My Baekhyun? Byun Baek?”

“Yeah, I didn’t understand all of his Korean, but--”

“Haha, his typos are like, on another level!” Baekhyun rambles worse on the phone than he does in person, and worst of all in text. It’s like some weird side effect of his constant chattering that only gets more noticeable at greater degrees of separation.

“...But he seemed worried about you. He said something about Jongin?” Ok, now that’s just not fair. Baekhyun and Kris are both his friends, and maybe they’ve met a few times as well, but communicating about it behind Chanyeol’s back means they’re blowing this way out of proportion. Chanyeol is fine. Chanyeol has everything under control.

“Jongin helped me with a class project, that’s all. Why did Baek email you about that?” Better question, why is Kris calling about it all the way from Canada?

“No need to get defensive, Yeol, I’m just asking if... everything’s ok.”

“Things are fine, dandy. They would even be approaching perfect, if only ceramics museums weren’t so dusty. I’ve been sneezing so much the ahjumma at the maejom asked if I invented winter allergies!” Kris laughs, under his breath but it’s still a laugh, and Chanyeol joins him with an exhale of relief.

“Well... ok. But whatever’s going on, you should... be careful. Proceed with caution,” Kris advises in his older brother tone.

“But there’s really nothing going on.” Something stirs in Chanyeol’s chest, little rodent toenails clicking, and he realizes he’s irritated. Slightly mad. Not at Luhan or anyone in particular, but because people keep assuming things. And because three phone calls later he still has no idea what everyone’s getting upset over.

“Oh hey, before I forget, can you swing by my apartment just to check on things? Yixing texted Soo last night that he maybe left the bathroom sink on.” Chanyeol can hear Kris’ mental face palm through the quiver in his voice.

“Uh, sure thing hyung!” Chanyeol tries to bite back a laugh. No wonder Kris looks so tired, he probably didn’t sleep a wink last night worrying about the water bill and black mold growth. “I’ll swing by on the way home from class.”

“Thanks, man. Call me if you need anything.”

“‘Kay, bye.”

Chanyeol isn’t on campus as much after his winter class ends in January and Baekhyun heads back to Busan right after Seollal, but Jongin still comes out to Chanyeol’s officetel all through February, for games and TV and beer and stuff. It’s weird that his apartment’s full again, full of Jongin and Jongdae and sometimes Minseok when Taeyeon's busy, but it’s nice.

Kyungsoo comes back from his aunt’s after Seollal with a stack of slightly yellowed lace doilies for Kris and two kilos of chocolate pound cake for Chanyeol and Jongdae. Chanyeol puts the doilies in his closet to pass on to Kris and calls Jongin. They finish both cakes, with a little help from Kyungsoo and Krystal, in one sitting.

The next day Chanyeol goes shopping for Luhan’s Valentine’s present with no idea what to buy and comes home with a bag full of random assorted objects. He could always try to pass it off as a gift basket type of thing, but there's not really a theme to the stuff he bought. Is it bad that everything reminds him of Luhan? Things as mundane as Luhan's favorite ginseng candy chews and things as obscure as wooly knit gloves the exact shade of Luhan's turquoise sweater.

Chanyeol finds an empty soju box at the supermarket and sets the bag next to it on his table. For the next week he keeps looking at it and thinking about mailing it and not actually going to the post office.

February

“So what are you doing next weekend?” Jongin slides his empty milk glass onto the counter. Chanyeol grabs it and sticks it under the tap. “Got a hot Skype date with Luhan hyung?” Jongin winks, his dark eyes flashing. Thin white froth overflows the glass and foams over Chanyeol’s wrist.

“Yeah, I guess.” Chanyeol slides his lip between his teeth. They haven’t set a specific time yet, but he assumes that’s what he’ll be doing. He sighs and slings the water from the glass before slamming it into the drain and Jongin jumps, his heel knocking against the cabinet door.

“Sorry!” Chanyeol yelps. He turns off the tap and drags his palms up the thighs of his sweats.

“You ok?” Jongin’s voice is so soft he would have missed it if the water was still running.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Chanyeol says, still facing the sink.

“I dunno, you just seem kind of out of it.”

“Everything’s cool.” Chanyeol shrugs. He just didn’t want to be reminded that his weekend is still wide open without any hint of plans. Chanyeol can be flexible, but he hates assuming. It makes him feel insecure.

“Less than a month of break left.”

“Yup.” Chanyeol takes the towel Jongin tosses him and dries his hands again.

“Are you ready?” Jongin asks thickly through a yawn. Chanyeol can hear the sleep still coating his voice and it makes him feel sticky, like he needs another shower.

“Yeah... I never thought I’d get sick of cartoons and webtoons, but, hehe!” He turns to lean on the counter across from Jongin.

“It’s been a long winter.” Jongin pushes off from the counter to stretch, his back to the sink as he stares out the balcony window. “Hey, what’s in the bag?”

“Huh?”

“This.” Jongin crosses the room in two strides to poke at the bag on the table. Chanyeol jumps at the loud rustle of thin plastic as he plucks at the knotted handles.

“Nothing! Just some stuff for a... a project.”

“Oh?” Jongin slides onto the arm of the sofa and blinks at Chanyeol. “Do tell!”

“I said, it’s nothing!” Chanyeol lunges across the room and stuffs the plastic sack into the box before shoving the whole thing under the table. Water droplets from his hastily dried fingers spatter the thin plastic.

“Ok,” Jongin says, but he’s frowning like Chanyeol tried to shove him under the table.

“Ok.” Chanyeol turns on the TV, turns around to find the dish towel. His hands got all wrinkly in the water.

“I miss you. I bet you’re tired of hearing that now.”

“What?” Chanyeol blinks, the color on his screen swimming as the webcam adjusts to the dim lighting in Luhan’s apartment. A blur of pink shakes its head and Luhan’s features come into focus, gray and grainy in a texture that would absolutely horrify him if he could see. He's almost as diva about his skincare routine as Kris is, even if he tries to pretend otherwise.

“Never mind!” Luhan stretches his clasped hands above his head and rolls his shoulders. “So! I planned out our first date for when I get back!”

“Oh?” Chanyeol muffles a yawn. He would try to discreetly flatten his hair using the webcam as a mirror, except Luhan would totally notice. It’s not like his hair would cooperate with him anyway.

“Yeah!” Luhan bounces in his seat. “Well, obviously, we have to go to the cafe and get bingsu first thing! Unless of course, you’d want to get dinner first, I guess I could live with that. Then! Then we have to go straight to Myeongdong to check out the new accessories store that Zitao has been raving about since November and--!”

“You talk to Zitao?”

“Yeah?” Luhan tilts his head and straightens one of his cuffs. He’s wearing a wooly red sweater with his key necklace draped over the top. Also an earwarmer. Inside. “Sometimes. Anyway,” he waves his hand and Chanyeol can see the paint stains in the grooves of his knuckles and in the corners of his cuticles, even in the dim light, “since I couldn’t plan anything exciting for today, I planned out a whole day of stuff for when I get back! So make sure you’re hydrated and caught up on sleep the night before, ok? I won’t go easy on you!”

“Is this a date, or a marathon?” Chanyeol laughs.

“Both?” Luhan blinks up to the ceiling, considering for a moment. “Both, obviously! I don’t do anything half-assed, you know.” Chanyeol nods. “Next up would be Hongdae, of course. I need to stock up on skincare stuff again and…”

Chanyeol tries to be a good boyfriend and listen attentively, but he just can’t get excited about it. He squirms on his sofa and tunes out Luhan’s endless reviews of the new vintage thrift shop that opened in Edae. He doesn’t want to listen in detail to all of the things they can do together again in May that he wishes he was doing right now.

It would be so much easier if he could just crawl into bed and bury his head under a pillow and ignore how much he wants to punch in the LCD screen taunting him with Luhan’s smile and Luhan’s voice, letting him get so close to touching his boyfriend but not nearly close enough. This whole weekend would be easier if Jongin were snuggled silently against him on the sofa and they were watching Conan again. Maybe with some beer. Or another case of soju and a box of chicken to chew on so they could keep going past the fourth bottle.

“Hey! Hey, Chanyeol?” Chanyeol sits up with a start. Luhan is frowning at him, he realizes with a hot rush of guilt in his ears.

“Hyung?”

“I’m sorry.” Luhan’s voice is gruff, like cheap black coffee.

“What?”

“Sorry... for leaving you alone so long.”

“Hey,” Chanyeol says. “Don’t, hyung.” He drops his gaze to the small dark stain on the hem of his sweater. “You didn’t leave me alone. There’s Kris and Yixing hyung and Soo and Jongdae, Minseok hyung, Jongin…”

“Yeah,” Luhan sniffs, and Chanyeol can’t look up. “Yeah, otherwise I really couldn’t have left you, huh?”

“And don’t pretend like I’m the only one who’s been suffering. I know you’re--”

“Tough as nails battered in steel shavings and deep fried in motor oil!” Luhan snaps and Chanyeol looks up with a startled laugh.

“Hyung! What--?” Chanyeol just can’t, because he’s laughing so hard his whole bed is shaking and the webcam with it, and Luhan’s going to yell at him soon for making him seasick if he can’t stop.

“Shit.” Luhan sniffs like he's contracted some of Chanyeol's winter allergies and wipes the corners of his eyes with his thumbs, hard. “Jongin. I should thank him the most, huh? For taking care of you.”

“You know--”

“I heard from Xing he’s been a good friend to you while I’ve been so busy.” Luhan meets his gaze and his eyes are red rimmed and there’s a cold bubble of panic rising in Chanyeol’s gut. If he’s been talking to Yixing about...

“Hyung, I--”

“Chanyeol, I trust you, ok? You don’t need to explain anything.” Luhan smiles, small and a little wobbly, but so warm and so real and so Luhan.

“I--” Chanyeol traces the gentle curve on his computer screen with the tip of his knuckle. “Ok.” Chanyeol pulls off his too tight socks. The elastic of the left one gets caught on his baby toes. “Thanks. I miss you, Luhan.”

“Thanks, Yeol.” Luhan pulls the hood of his jacket up, only his chin and the tip of his nose peeking out of the shadows. “It’s getting really late here, but... tomorrow? Could I call again tomorrow?”

“You aren’t busy?” Chanyeol squeaks. “I mean, well yeah! If you want.” Chanyeol grins and Luhan shifts forward, his hood sliding back to his shoulders. He’s grinning so hard Chanyeol would worry about his face breaking, if he didn’t already know how hard Luhan’s head is.

“See you tomorrow, then!”

“Goodnight, hyung! Sleep tight!” Chanyeol pokes a finger into each cheek and pouts into the camera. “Don’t forget to dream about me!”

“Agh, you’re so cheesy!” Luhan groans, pretending to gag. “Why do I even put up with you?” Chanyeol bats his eyelashes and curls his fingers into a heart with practiced ease.

“Because I’m amazing and you love me! Jajjang~!” Luhan laughs, waves, and hangs up. Chanyeol shoves his computer in his backpack, laces on his shoes, and checks to make sure the door locked.

“Do you come here often?”

“Not really?” Luhan pushed open the door to the cafe. The felt strip of insulation at the bottom scraped softly over the tiles. “I’ve been here twice, maybe.”

“Wah! It looks really nice in here!” Chanyeol tipped his head back to admire the sloping arch of the vaulted ceiling above them. The molded plaster was cracking in the corners and around a few of the light fixtures but the intricate patterns were obviously the work of a master artist, maybe a century ago? Chanyeol didn’t know anything about architecture, still doesn’t.

“Yeah, you can’t tell from the outside though, can you?” Chanyeol nodded, unwinding his loose weave scarf. The front looked like the entrance to any old officetel with apartments built into the shell of an older building, before the narrow corridor which led into the shop. “That’s why I like this place.” Luhan grabbed Chanyeol by the wrist and dragged him further inside.

“Welcome!” A guy with a green canvas apron cinched over the waist of his baggy black T-shirt skittered around the counter. “Would you like a seat?” He slid a rainbow of braided hemp bracelets up his forearm and grabbed a menu from a low shelf.

“Yes, please,” Luhan said in carefully enunciated Korean. He’s pretty comfortable around his friends but Chanyeol had noticed he gets a little stiff in situations like ordering food or calling his hair salon to make a reservation.

“Ok! Follow!” the waiter said, dodging between occupied tables on his way to the back. He stopped in front of a small round table pushed against a full length window overlooking the street and slid the menu onto the tabletop. “Soon I will come back for your ordering!” He waved, three of his four bracelets slipping back down his wrist, before he turned away to clear a nearby table.

Luhan dropped his wrist and Chanyeol took a seat with his back to the tray drop. He rubbed self consciously where his skin was flushed pink from the tight grip and hoped Luhan wouldn’t notice.

“So is this just a regular old cafe, or do they have a specialty?” He poked at the velvet menu cover. It was the same color green as the waiter’s apron and looked like it belonged in some hotel restaurant, one of the fancy ones downtown with polished marble lobbies.

“Does anything about this place look ‘regular old’?” Luhan asked, flipping his chair around so the back rested against the edge of the table.

“Haha, I guess not!” Chanyeol chuckled, his elbow brushing brightly dyed feathers dangling from a large dream catcher duct taped to the window.

“The specialty is bingsu,” Luhan said, straddling his chair.

“Bingsu?” Chanyeol laughed. “Hyung! It’s the middle of October!”

“So?” Luhan rested the point of his chin in the dip of the heart-shaped trellis back of the wrought iron chair. “It’s still delicious. You eat ice cream on your birthday, right? And that’s in November.”

“Oh, yeah.” Chanyeol licked at his lips. “How’d you know that?” Chanyeol stared curiously at Luhan. He blinked but didn’t look away, even as his face heated up under Luhan’s steady, dark-eyed stare.

“Oh, I have my ways!” Luhan’s lips curled tighter, almost smug, and Chanyeol pouted. “So, bingsu. What kind do you want?” Luhan thumped his knuckles on the menu. “They have all sorts of crazy flavors here, like persimmon and coconut crunch and banana nutella and blueberry cheesecake and--”

“Cheesecake? Damn!”

“Mmhmm! See?” He flipped open the menu with his pinky finger.

“How do you even pick? We’ll have to order like three! Do they have calorie information available for these things?” Chanyeol joked, waving his hand across the list of offerings.

“If that’s what you’re worried about, I think we should pass on the Devil’s Food Deluxe Dream Boat!” Luhan giggled, tapping the picture on the menu. “It’s soaked with so much chocolate syrup you’ll be sneezing black for a week!”

“That’s disgusting!” Chanyeol shrieked but couldn’t help laughing, even when Luhan kicked him again under the table.

“You have a decision?” the waiter asked, skating up to their table, the soles of his canvas shoes nearly silent on the polished hard wood.

“We’ll have bingsu,” Luhan said, looking up through his fringe. His hair was freshly dyed and the color was a bright bubblegum.

“Our original flavor has the lowest calories! You want to try?” The waiter smiled at them hopefully, switching his gaze from Luhan to Chanyeol and then back to Luhan. “It’s amazingly delicious!” Luhan tilted his head and scratched at his ear.

“That sound good to you, Yeol? You wanna try the original?”

“Ah, ok.” Chanyeol tore his gaze from the alluring HD photo of the cheesecake flavor (which sported a thick slab of cake on top piled with fresh berries--like, is the place attached to a greenhouse or something?) and smiled into Luhan’s hopeful eyes. They looked really soft that day, but maybe that’s just because of the way his fluffy white sweater framed his smiling face. “Is that what you want, hyung?”

“Sure!” Luhan said, “anything is fine!” He turned to the waiter. “Ok, original it is then!”

“Original! Ok! We have that,” the waiter nodded. He whipped a pen out of his apron pocket and started inking their order directly onto his hand. The lower half of his palm was layered with overlapping lines of print in faded violet and blue ink. “Anything more?” He scraped his freshly inked hand through a shock of bronze hair. It immediately tumbled back into his eyes again, just like his bracelets that wouldn’t stay put.

“You want coffee?” Luhan kicked Chanyeol’s shoe under the table.

“Do you have hwanta?” Chanyeol asked hopefully.

“Uh, melon flavor ok?” The waiter bit his lip.

“Yup!”

“One bingsu, one melon hwanta,” Luhan repeated, shoving the menu to the edge of the table.

“Original flavor,” the waiter nodded, narrowing his eyes. He annotated their order on his hand and collected the menu before dashing off.

“So what’s this place called?” Chanyeol tilted his head to pop his neck. It had been a long week, and he was ready to go home and crash for the next two days. “There wasn’t a sign out front.”

“I dunno.” Luhan scraped his Keds across the floorboards.

“What? Really?” Chanyeol laughed in surprise. “But you have to check in to Facebook at every other restaurant and cafe!” Luhan tsked and pushed Chanyeol’s snapback down over his eyes.

“Why do I even put up with you?”

“Because I’m amazing and you love me!” Chanyeol smirked, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table.

“Yeah,” Luhan said softly. “I guess so.” He licked his lips, opened them like he was about to say something. Chanyeol’s blood started rushing in his ears because Luhan was leaning in too, but his eyes didn’t look teasing at all. Chanyeol hadn’t seen his eyes look like that before and--

“Our melon hwanta, here!” The waiter suddenly reappeared with a tall glass which he set carefully in front of Chanyeol. It had two straws, one lemon yellow and one baby blue. “Please enjoy!”

“Thank you!” Luhan pulled off the straw covers and stirred the ice around until the condensation started to pool in a ring on the table. He shoved the yellow straw in his hand down between the chunks of ice and slid the glass towards Chanyeol, not taking his eyes off him. Luhan wasn’t staring exactly, more like talking without words, something about how nice this was and how good the bingsu would taste when it finally got here and... maybe... just maybe, that he was glad to be there with Chanyeol.

Chanyeol didn’t let himself follow that train of thought though, because in any case, this was comfortable, whatever it was, and he didn’t want to spoil it by over thinking things. He opted for smiling, hoping Luhan would get the message that he reciprocated the sentiment.

“Drink up!” Luhan said finally. Chanyeol nodded, but hesitated just a second longer, almost knocking foreheads with Luhan when they both leaned in for a straw at the same time. That should have been really awkward but somehow it wasn’t. They both laughed, louder than they should in a secluded cafe, but neither of them cared.

Chanyeol really liked that about Luhan, how he was observant and pretty good at reading people when he wanted to but owned his own personality so well he didn’t care what others thought. He operated by a unique brand of Baekhyun’s fuck haters they’re ignorant, a slightly cocky yet not thoughtless indifference and yeah, Chanyeol really liked it.

Actually, Chanyeol just liked Luhan in general, from his candy pink hair Katy Perry should be jealous of, to his obsession with photo documenting spray paint scrawls, to his dopey smiles that swallowed up his face when he was lazy and happy, like right then, Chanyeol realized with a soft tug in his chest. His own smile widened, pulling at the chapped skin at the corners of his mouth, and Luhan opened his mouth again to say something when the waiter returned with a ginormous dish of bingsu on his tray.

“Jajjang~!” he announced, resting the tray on the edge of their tiny table and hefting the glass bowl to a resting place next to the hwanta. “Here this is, one delicious green tea flavor bingsu! Please enjoy the perfect taste!” He set a spoon in front of each of them and clutched the empty tray to his chest.

“Um,” Luhan said, blinking through his lensless glasses. “Uh…”

“Oh! More napkins are needed?” the waiter asked, pointing towards a dispenser on the tray drop behind Chanyeol.

“We ordered the original flavor?” Chanyeol said, his gaze flickering between Luhan and the waiter. “I think?” The waiter’s face tightened, then fell as he blushed a deep, hot red.

“Oh--oh!” he stammered, “original flavor!” He bit his lip and dropped his gaze to his scribbled on hand, then to the floor as his fingers curled into a white knuckled fist. “My apologies! I can--”

“I’m--s-sorry if I--”

“No no no!” the waiter gasped, waving his hands in contradiction with the tray awkwardly clenched under his armpit. “I--!” His shoulders jerked slightly and he broke off with a soft hiccup when he realized he‘d just interrupted his potentially disgruntled customer. His shoulders sagged, his hair wilting and the bow of his apron drooping and his bracelets dropping forward to stack neatly on his wrist, boom boom boom, like beads on an abacus.

Chanyeol gulped back an awkward laugh because the guy was just so damn cute, like a baby giraffe or a stork or something, even when the waiter proceeded to cuss under his breath. At least Chanyeol thought it was a curse he muttered, albeit one he’d never heard before.

Luhan sat up with a start, his chair scraping across the floor, and fired a question in rapid Mandarin at the melting waiter who backed into the nearest empty table with a staggery little hop.

He and Luhan exchanged a few more lines of Chinese, the waiter’s anxious scowl gently relaxing into a sheepish smile. Luhan said something with a wink and waved him off, and the waiter backed away with a flurry of quick bows and hair tugging and tray clutching. Luhan picked up his spoon and smiled at his upside down reflection in the concave surface.

“What’d he say? What’d you say?” Chanyeol demanded in a breathy whisper, tugging at the furry cuff of Luhan’s sleeve before he had a chance to answer.

“Oh, you know.” Luhan shrugged, dipping his spoon in the top mound of red bean and held it out to Chanyeol.

Chanyeol blinked at the spoon, then whined, “Hyuuung!” before closing his lips around the bite. Luhan grinned, his jaw dropping into the collar of his sweater. The red bean paste was sweet, but not too sweet, a little salt in the mix just enough to bring out the nutty flavors.

“He’s a student, new this year from China,” Luhan said, carefully scraping a spoonful of ice and condensed milk with a little smear of red bean before holding it up again. “His name’s Zitao and he said Korean’s still hard for him and sometimes he messes up. I told him it was ok, I still make mistakes sometimes too, even though it gets a lot easier eventually, and,” he caught the yellow straw between his teeth and took a long suck, looking up with a smirk, “I told him to get a notebook!” Chanyeol giggled, scooting his chair in closer.

“I told him green tea flavor was ok, I hope you don’t mind?” Luhan caught the edge of his lower lip between sharp teeth. “He looked like he was about to cry, and--”

“Oh no! Really!” Chanyeol leaned forward to accept the next bite, chewed twice, and swallowed. “Actually... I, uh, didn’t really want the plain kind anyway, so!” He shrugged, laughed, bit his lip. Luhan’s eyes widened behind his glasses frames and then he was laughing, too.

“You should have told me, stupid!” He nudged Chanyeol’s foot with his shoe, then pursed his lips into a tiny smile. “Actually, neither did I! Want to eat the plain one, I mean. Lucky us, huh?”

“Hehe, yeah!” Chanyeol laughed again, his knees knocking into Luhan’s under the table, and he loaded his spoon with a heaping bite for Luhan. Luhan took it all in one mouthful, his features crumpling like he tried to siphon a pipette of hydrochloric acid with his mouth (that totally happened in Chem I lab, by the way, just don’t try to tease Jongdae about it because he will punch you).

Chanyeol leaned back to snatch a handful of napkins from the dispenser and fluttered them in Luhan’s face as he moaned around the cold in his mouth. Luhan swallowed everything down with a gulp of melon soda and dabbed at his swollen lips, panting.

“Delicious!” he sighed, adjusting the earpieces of his frames. “Here, try the ddeok!” He fished out a piece of powdery rice cake and Chanyeol reciprocated with a more manageable spoonful this time as Zitao scampered over to their table and plunked a tray of Toll House cookies down next to their small vat of shaved ice. The chocolate chunks were still gooey from the oven.

“More of our apologies!” Zitao said, smiling over his shoulder as he nearly skipped back to the kitchen. Luhan laughed, his warm voice sliding into a pleased hum as his lips closed around the piece of cookie Chanyeol stuffed in his mouth. Chanyeol licked the smudges of chocolate left on his fingers and laughed at Luhan’s stupid, perfect face. He looked like he just slid into a hot bath after a long day and fuck, now he’s thinking about Luhan naked and--

“Hello! Chanyeol? Hey.” Chanyeol sat up to find Luhan waving at him.

“What?”

“You were spacing out on me!” Luhan gave him a side glance, an amused smile tugging at his lips, and Chanyeol blushed furiously.

“O-oh!” he stammered, tugging on his overheated, probably bright red earlobes. “Sorry, hyung!” Luhan rolled his eyes.

“I was just asking if you’re busy this weekend. Yixing has extra tickets to an art show in Pyeongchang-dong.”

“Xing hyung?” Chanyeol sliced a red bean cleanly in half against the side of the glass bowl.

“Well, he can’t actually go, which is why I asked you.” Luhan sniffed, curling his fingers into the cuffs of his sweater. “But if you don’t want to go, that’s totally fine! I can always just…”

“Sure!” Chanyeol said, smashing the severed bean with the back of his spoon until the soft insides oozed out of the smooth skin. “I mean, sure I want to go, I just…” He glanced down at the handle of the spoon clutched in his fist.

“If you’re already busy, it’s cool! No big.” Luhan shifted in his chair, the rivets in the back pockets of his jeans lightly scraping across the seat.

“I’m not busy, hyung.” Chanyeol slowly raised his eyes.

“Yeah?” Luhan was breathing so lightly he almost looked like he was holding his breath.

“I just don’t know what to do at an art show?”

Luhan burst out laughing at Chanyeol’s reluctant confession and Chanyeol’s embarrassed wince shifted to a pout.

“Exactly the same thing you did at my art show, stupid!” Luhan patted the back of Chanyeol’s hand. “Looking at art isn’t something you can mess up, so no pressure, ok?”

“I’m pretty sure I could find a way to mess it up,” Chanyeol growled as he tried to regain control of his blushing faculties, since Jongdae wasn’t there to say it for him. Luhan’s hand squeezed around his, tugging on the spoon.

“Well, is there someplace you’d rather go on Saturday? I have the whole day off.”

“No,” Chanyeol answered honestly. “I’ll go.”

“Perfect!” Luhan released his hand to tug on the end of his scarf. “Meet me in the student center at ten?”

The last Saturday of February finds Chanyeol rolling in a big mopey heap on the floor of Kris and Yixing’s apartment. They’ve both just arrived in town since classes are starting soon. Kris is even trying to get a head start on his studying while still jet lagged, though the rest of them are more interested in their phones and the bag of promised snacks Yixing brought back from China.

“Here! Try this sesame candy! My grandma made it and it’s amazing.” Yixing tries to shove a black lump in Chanyeol’s mouth but he turns his head away.

“No thanks, I’m not hungry.”

“Excuse me?” Yixing flops onto the sofa with an exaggerated gasp of horror and Kris glares, offended on behalf of his abused furniture. “Park Chanyeol isn’t hungry? Should I call Obama and warn him the apocalypse in on the way?”

Jongdae snorts. “As if an American could do anything to stop the apocalypse after the mess they’ve made in Iraq!” He throws a cashew at Yixing’s leg. “And don’t get me started on Benghazi!”

“Then who would you call?” Yixing challenges, stabbing Jongdae’s shoulder with the eraser end of his pencil. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure the Ghostbusters are American too!”

“Yeol, are you feeling ok?” Kris asks, choosing to ignore his roommate’s continued theatrics.

“Yeah? No… I don’t know!” Chanyeol scoots his hips farther under the coffee table and flops his arms onto the floor above his head.

“Details, Chanyeol.” Kris closes his book with a sigh. “Let’s shoot for an itemized list of symptoms and then we can decide whether or not we need to head to the hospital.”

“I’m not sick!” Chanyeol whines into the cuff of his sweater. He’s wearing the green cable knit Luhan sent him for Christmas that already has a gochujang stain near the hem. Chanyeol huffs and opens his eyes. Kris is glaring patiently at him, which means he’s not getting out of this by hiding under the furniture. “I’m not sick,” Chanyeol repeats in an even tone. “I just feel weird in my stomach. And sometimes my chest, when I wake up.”

“What kind of weird?” Jongdae asks, wresting Yixing’s pencil away with a grunt.

“Like... something got trapped in my gut and is trying to escape through my ribcage. Just, you know.” Chanyeol shrugs. His sweater clings to the wool rug and bunches beneath his shoulder blades.

“No, not really.” Yixing is frowning now, too. “Did you eat raw shellfish out of season? Have you heard of coenuri? Do we need to call an ambulance? Say the national anthem backwards if you see how many fingers I’m holding up!” Yixing wiggles all ten digits at him like he’s in a Broadway musical jazz number.

“Oh my god hyung! I do not have tapeworms! You can’t even get those from shellfish.” Chanyeol knocks the back of his head against the floor. Kris makes soft gagging noises. This conversation is not going anywhere productive.

“Well, what exactly do you think is trapped in your ribcage?” Jongdae asks, twirling the pencil in his fingers.

“Like a... chipmunk?” Chanyeol pulls the neck of his sweater over his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch Kris’ face contort in further befuddled agony. “A very metaphorical chipmunk. I think.” Chanyeol yanks the sweater back down to spit out the lump of fuzz that just adhered itself to his tongue while he was mumbling into his collar. He double takes when he realizes Kris isn’t frowning anymore at all.

“Well, if this parasitic infestation is purely metaphorical, you should have said so.” Kris taps his pointy chin.

“Come again?” Chanyeol is still confused, really confused.

“It sounds like you’re suffering from something psychological. Or maybe emotional, I’m not sure.” Yixing rolls over on the couch to better hear Kris, his interest piqued. “When did your chipmunk take up residence?”

“I don’t know.” Chanyeol blinks at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Maybe December? Around Christmas?”

“Christmas, huh.” Kris sniffs, deep in thought.

“Oh wait, no. I think it was... the night of Jonginnie’s recital? Definitely December, then.” Chanyeol lets his head roll back, somehow relieved that he’s remembered when it was, even though the actual date is not that important anyway.

“Did anything happen at the recital? After the recital?”

“No.” Chanyeol frowns. “We had ice cream and then we went home.”

“Did you go home together?” Yixing asks with a yawn, nuzzling into Kris’ favorite white damask throw pillow.

“No, I went home and he went back to his place,” Chanyeol answers honestly, but his stomach twists as Yixing’s question echoes in his head, this time in Baekhyun’s raspy voice.

“Ok. Well...” Kris spreads his knees, straddling the seat of his chair. “Is there anything else bothering you?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says automatically. “I mean, no. Well, it’s nothing new but I just miss Luhan. A lot. He feels so far away.”

“Now you feel my pain,” Yixing says. “My position as Xiao Lu’s bestie got shunted when you came along.” He drops a sticky sesame lump into Jongdae’s hair. Jongdae punches him in the shin.

“Like that makes me feel better!” Chanyeol kicks the coffee table. “You’re really bad at comfort, hyung.”

“And also you suck!” Jongdae tugs at his hair and whines in frustration. “I think I’ll have to cut this out! Fuck.”

“Why did he have to go so far away?” Chanyeol repeats obstinately to the ceiling. He’s been asking his ceiling the same question for months, but maybe Kris’ ceiling will have a more satisfactory answer. It looks like it’s been painted more recently.

“Did you even ask him to stay?” Kris asks.

“Oh.” Chanyeol bites his lip. “No, but how could I? You know that exchange semester was his dream since--” Actually, Chanyeol’s not really sure anymore. All he remembers is the emptiness that blossomed through his insides the moment Luhan started bursting his Park Chanyeol’s Plans For The Immediate Future bubbles at the table in the back of their cafe, pop pop pop.

The emptiness is still there, he knows because it still aches. Luhan just takes up so much space in his life: no wonder there’s so much room that weird little metaphorical rodents started moving in when he left. Luhan better come home in May and not extend again or Chanyeol might end up with a small zoo in his abdominal cavity. Ew.

“Ow!” Jongdae shrieks. Yixing is tugging at the sticky wad in his hair. Jongdae lets out another squeal that would make Baekhyun proud and Kris flinches and drops his calculator.

“Just hold still! I’ll go find my peanut butter.” Kris sighs and slouches into his bedroom, returning with a plastic jar from his suitcase. “I can’t believe I’m sacrificing this for your split ends, Jongdae,” Kris sighs as he hands it over. “You owe me new throw pillow after this, Xing!” Yixing shrugs and Chanyeol chuckles, relieved the spotlight’s off him for the moment. But he knows he’d better resolve this soon, whatever this is, or the probing questions about ~feelings~ will just get worse.

March

It’s the first day of March and Chanyeol just forced himself out of bed with the nagging thought that he absolutely has to mail Luhan’s present today. Otherwise he might as well just save it for his birthday in April, which would be stupid because one of the gifts in the box is a pair of cashmere gloves. This procrastinating thing is getting a little ridiculous.

Chanyeol pulls on the nearest sweater he finds on the floor and changes his socks. The post office is only a few blocks away and it’s not even that cold today. There is no logical reason for him to feel like an asthma attack’s coming on when he picks up the box from the counter. Like he just said, this whole situation is ridiculous, he’s had all of break to go do this one simple task. Simple. Yeah. He can do this.

He takes a deep breath and steps into his shoes, shoving his keys into his pocket. His hand freezes on the doorknob as the seam splits, his heavy key ring dropping all the way to the hem of his coat. Chanyeol fumbles for his phone and calls Yura, slightly panicked.

“Noona! Can you fix my coat? The lining in the pocket all ripped out!” he whimpers, wringing his free hand. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“Ugh,” Yura groans, her voice rough with sleep. He must’ve woken her up. Oops. “Can it wait? I’m really busy this week, Chanyeol.”

“But--!”

“Sorry. Not today. I’ll fix it soon though, ok?”

“...ok.” Chanyeol doesn’t want it fixed soon. He wants it fixed now. He’s not really sure when the tear went from a tiny hole to something loose enough to rip out, or why he suddenly cares that it ripped, but it feels like it’s something much bigger than his winter wardrobe that’s fraying beyond repair under his fingertips.

“It’s not going to stay cold for much longer anyway. Can you make do with your other jacket this week?”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks anyway.”

Chanyeol takes off his coat and shoves it roughly under his bed. He puts the box on the top shelf of his closet and punches the power button on the TV, not even bothering to find the remote. Detective Conan is on. Chanyeol hates waiting in the post office anyway. He’ll just take the package later. Maybe next Saturday.

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