UPSIDE FORWARD for RISEANDRAIN [6/7]
Zitao was on shift again the next Saturday when Luhan and Chanyeol dropped by the cafe after the art show. The shop was busy, a couple in matching plaid scarves coming in just behind them, but Zitao escorted them all the way to the same table in the back and opened the menu to the page of seasonal specialties before excusing himself with a little wave.
“So, looks like the bingsu special of the week is roasted sweet potato and cilantro?” Chanyeol read aloud, shrugging off his jacket.
“What?” Luhan froze with his coat hanging off of one arm as he narrowed his eyes at the fold out menu. His nose was all wrinkled up and Chanyeol’s thumb was itching to stroke it smooth again. “What is cilantro?”
“I don’t know, but it looks like that green stuff.” Chanyeol tapped picture at the bottom.
“Ew!” Luhan pulled his coat all the way off and flung it over the back of his chair. “Why couldn’t they do something normal, like sweet potato and cream cheese?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the latest thing in France.” Chanyeol folded his jacket onto his lap and turned the page to the back of the menu. “Want to stick with green tea? Since we know it’s good?” Luhan nodded, reaching over to pull a loose thread from Chanyeol’s sweater sleeve just as Zitao pranced up to their table.
“Hello! Happy the weekend! What can I get for you?” Zitao actually had a notepad this time, albeit one Chanyeol would have expected to find in the possession of a third grade girl or Great Aunt Youngja, the cover a shiny pink leopard print with a silhouette of some DBSK member’s head embossed in the center.
“We’ll have green tea bingsu, with extra condensed milk please!”
“Ok!” Zitao nodded happily to Luhan, carefully marking down their order in his book. “That is all?”
“Yup!” Chanyeol confirmed with a nod. As much as he loved melon cream soda, which was somewhat difficult to find outside of import shops, it didn’t blend to well with the other flavors in their dessert.
“Just to let you know, there is a 10% couple discount on all specialty items!” Zitao winked, pointing with his pen to the cluster of promotional coffee drinks listed under the sweet potato shaved ice.
“Couple discount?” Chanyeol asked, flipping the menu closed to hand over to Zitao.
“Yes!” The waiter nodded, combing his fingers through his bangs. “Because our management supports all romance and we congratulate our customers when finding true happiness!”
“We’re not dating,” Luhan said slowly as he withdrew his hand from Chanyeol’s sleeve. “We’re just…” He pursed his lips in a brave attempt not to laugh. Chanyeol could see his shoulders quivering under his thin sweater and had to bite his lip to hold in his own amusement.
“Oh my god!” Zitao shrieked, jumping back and almost capsizing the empty chair across the table from the old lady next to them. “I’m so--!” He pressed the cover of his notepad to his burning cheeks, the spiral wire biting into the soft skin beneath his dark eyes.
“It’s ok, it’s ok!” Luhan laughed, not able to hold it in any longer, and said something in Chinese that had Zitao bobbing his head in earnest.
“It’s really ok!” Chanyeol added, flashing him a peace sign.
“Ok! Um,” Zitao clipped his pen to the pocket of his apron and straightened a bracelet on his wrist. “Be back soon!” He bowed and Luhan waved to him before getting up to fill water glasses at the counter behind Chanyeol’s seat.
“Do you want lemon?” He pinched a pair of small green tongs at Chanyeol. Chanyeol shook his head. “Here,” Luhan handed him one of the short cut crystal glasses before sliding into his seat.
“Thanks!”
“Mmhm.” Luhan clinked their glasses at the rim and took a slow sip as if it were chilled white wine instead of lukewarm tap water. “Anything for you!”
Zitao hurried over a minute later to deposit their bingsu on the table. “Enjoy the fresh taste!” he said with a quick bow, not quite able to look either of them in the eye. Chanyeol watched him weave through the maze of mismatched furniture to deliver an ice cream sundae to a table near the front.
“I know this may sound hypocritical of me, but his little Qingdao accent is adorable!” Luhan tapped his fingers together in a little clap and chortled like a toddler who had just discovered the deliciousness of dirt. Chanyeol doffed his cap and shifted the band over his forehead, squinting skeptically.
“Are you sure he’s cute, hyung? He has leopard print stationery. That means he probably also owns a leopard print cardigan, or leo print loafers, or leo print leggings!” Chanyeol gagged on a giggle at the mental image of Zitao’s long legs in patterned tights instead of his usual black skinny jeans. It somehow didn’t seem too farfetched though, once he'd thought of it.
“So?” Luhan said with a slow blink. “I own a leo print cardigan.” He held up a piece of ddeok rolled in red bean and thick milk syrup until Chanyeol accepted the bite. “And who cares what kind of stationery it is as long as it has Yunho’s face on it!” Luhan shoveled a massive spoonful of ice chips into his mouth and Chanyeol burst out laughing, his spasms of amusement shaking his whole body. He almost knocked over his water glass trying to fetch Luhan a napkin.
Luhan was laughing too, in between groans of pain as he tried to fan his oversensitized teeth. Rivulets of milky green dribbled from his parted lips but he kept laughing despite the half amused, half judgmental stare of the lady at the table next to them, almost exactly the look Minseok would be giving them just then.
Chanyeol didn’t care though, because Luhan didn’t and because this was nice, really nice, whatever this was, just the two of them. The only thing that could make it even better would be if--
“Aw!” Luhan cooed, smearing melted dessert across his chin with a wadded handful of napkins. “Don’t be jealous, Yeollie!” He snickered through his nose, then coughed slightly at Chanyeol’s exaggerated pout. “You’re still the cutest to me!”
He reached across the table to pinch at Chanyeol’s pouty cheeks and Chanyeol automatically leaned forward into the touch, Luhan’s fingers grazing his right cheekbone and palm sliding down to cup his jaw. Luhan’s eyes were warm and open and so dark close up that Chanyeol forgot to breathe for a heartbeat, and before his brain even registered it his lips were sealed over Luhan’s, both their eyes still open as Luhan’s widened. Luhan squeaked, snatching up the forgotten menu to block their faces from public view as he surged forward to deepen the kiss. It was Chanyeol’s turn to gasp then, the slip of Luhan’s tongue gliding between his lips to curl around his own.
Luhan’s mouth was cool and milky sweet from the bingsu, and Chanyeol’s eyes closed as he chased the clean bitter green tea taste blended with something warm and dark and familiar that must be Luhan, he realized with a soft shudder, sliding the tip of his tongue along the softness of Luhan’s pink gums.
One of Luhan’s canines dug into the swell of Chanyeol’s lower lip and he bit back a moan, teeth clamping down on Luhan’s tongue. Luhan pulled away with a soft gasp, their noses still brushing behind the screen of the menu.
Chanyeol inhaled Luhan’s soft pants of breath against his mouth until he was breathing steadily enough to grin. He wiped a thumb over the slick pout of Luhan’s lower lip and sat up slowly, allowing the menu to drop. Luhan’s arm must’ve been getting tired.
Luhan propped his elbow on the green velvet cover and leaned his chin into the cup of his palms. He didn’t say anything, just beamed at him, and Chanyeol could have probably won the Cheshire Cat of the Year award right then, if that’s a thing, because everything about Luhan was so perfect: Luhan’s lips, Luhan’s smile, Luhan’s sparkle, Luhan’s stupid cotton candy hair, Luhan, Luhan, Luhan.
And since he already knew pretty much everything else about him was perfect (minus the DBSK obsession, but let’s not get technical here), Chanyeol guessed he shouldn’t have been so surprised that Luhan kissed perfect, too. Well, maybe not so much perfect as just really fucking hot. Fuck.
Chanyeol licked his lips and sucked down the rest of his water before he could blurt anything embarrassing. He glanced around the room, feeling a little dizzy. Luhan was still smiling, beaming really, and so was the old lady next to them, but no one else in the crowded room was paying any attention.
“Um, wow!” Luhan said. He looked a little dizzy too, or maybe that was just Chanyeol’s blurry vision. “What was that for?”
“You’re amazing and I think I love you!” Chanyeol blurted. He bit his lip, squinting and bracing himself for a jaw dropping laugh in response, but Luhan just smiled.
“Ok,” he said. Luhan picked up a spoon (Chanyeol wasn’t sure anymore whose spoon it was originally, not that it really mattered at that point) and proceeded to feed Chanyeol the rest of their dessert.
Zitao didn’t say anything when they got up to leave, but he gave Chanyeol an adorably lecherous wink and gave Luhan the couple discount. Luhan whispered something across the counter in Mandarin, shielding his mouth with his hand as if Chanyeol could understand if he overheard. Zitao’s shoulders shook in silent laughter.
“What?” Chanyeol hissed as Luhan tugged him impatiently out the door by the fringe of his lightweight scarf. Luhan just hummed, tugging the ends of the scarf snug against his neck, even though it really wasn’t that cold out. Luhan caught him by the wrist, gently this time, like Chanyeol’s bones were as fragile as the colorful tumble of fallen leaves that shifted beneath their shoes as they shuffled on the sidewalk, a private conversation of fidgets instead of words.
“You know,” Luhan said finally, leaning up to rest his forehead against Chanyeol’s. Chanyeol barely nodded, just waiting for Luhan to continue because if he opened his mouth who knew when he’d have been able to stem the flood of thoughts and feelings ready to tumble out. Luhan didn’t make him wait long, just a shaky breath and a shuffle closer.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
“Oh,” Chanyeol inhaled Luhan’s breath. “Yeah?”
“Mmhmm!” Luhan nodded, the sweep of his bangs caught between their foreheads softer than it should be for perpetually bleached hair. “Ever since you came to my show at the gallery.”
“Then why--!” Chanyeol’s brain was too fuzzy with the end of a sugar rush and... other... things to form a coherent sentence, but Luhan, being Luhan, understood him perfectly anyway.
“Well, for one thing, too many people at the gallery!” Luhan chuckled, his warm breath ghosting Chanyeol’s lips and throat.
“Not that that stopped you today!” Chanyeol dug a finger into Luhan’s rib. He squirmed, but didn’t move away.
“Hey now! Who started it today?” Luhan said darkly, and forget Chanyeol saying it was warm out, it was actually chilly enough that he was starting to get shivers. “Thank you for that, by the way! I couldn’t have just--”
“Why the hell not?” Chanyeol pouted, barely restraining himself from leaning in to claim Luhan’s mouth again with the grudging self reminder that they were on the street, albeit a secluded one, in broad daylight.
“Because!” Luhan huffed. “You’re my cute and innocent dongsaeng! I couldn’t have taken advantage of you on our first hangout! Yixing knows where I live!” he squeaked, his voice cracking. He shoved at Chanyeol’s shoulder and cleared his throat.
“Are you sure about the innocent part?” Chanyeol hummed, smirking at Luhan’s soft gasp.
“Get a room already!” Zitao shouted from the open kitchen window. Luhan pulled away enough to give him the finger and Zitao just laughed, blew a kiss. The old lady toodled her fingers at them through the front window and Chanyeol bowed slightly before Luhan tugged him into his side, wrapping an arm tightly around his waist and tucking his fingers into the belt loops of Chanyeol’s jeans.
“Bye, Taozi!” Luhan yelled, and pulled Chanyeol down the sidewalk. Chanyeol made it all the way to the station without tripping over any pavement cracks or slippery leaves, which is pretty miraculous, because he totally was not watching where his clumsy feet were stepping. Luhan was too beautiful to look away from. He probably managed to stay upright because of Luhan’s strong arm supporting him, but that in itself was pretty miraculous, if you asked Chanyeol.
At the station they headed left, in the direction of campus, but since both of them had the rest of the afternoon free they ended up at Kris and Yixing’s.
“So! Guess what!” Luhan said in his announcement voice as they stumbled into the living room, still flushed and all tangled up in each other.
“Oh dear,” Minseok said, rising half out of his chair. “Don’t tell me--”
“You two!” Yixing gasped, clapping his hands in evil glee that made Chanyeol start to wonder if there was some kind of bet hinging on their relationship.
“Well fucking finally!” Jongdae crowed, tossing his eraser. It bounced off of Kris’ forehead but Kris was smiling too widely to frown.
“Yeah?” Luhan laughed, squishing the fingers of his free hand into Chanyeol’s cheek.
“Oh, congratulations!” Jongin said, his smile faltering a bit. Yup, there must have been a bet on alright, although how Jongin could be on the losing end Chanyeol had no idea. Jongin had been his personal kick-in-the-ass slash love guru for the past torturous month. The bet must have been a timeline thing, since Chanyeol himself wouldn’t have guessed he’d have the nerve to make a move so soon, although does it even count as nerve if you act completely on impulse and--
“Um, Luhan?” Kris cleared his throat, loudly, and Chanyeol realized with a sudden flush that Luhan was sneaking fingers up his shirt.
“OMG get a roooom!” Jongdae yelled, and threw his pink highlighter this time. It bounced off of Kris’ shoulder and landed at Minseok’s feet.
“But not my room!” Minseok glared. Luhan just laughed a little evilly as Yixing shoved them out the door.
“Come on, let’s get lunch!” Luhan said, and pulled Chanyeol down the stairs.
The next weekend Yura shows up with a sack of chamoe and her nail polish collection.
“Go get your pile of mending,” she says, and kicks him off his sofa. She’s settled into the cushion with a bottle of acetone in one hand and a bottle of Cass in the other by the time Chanyeol returns with his coat. It’s gotten kind of dusty under the bed. He brushes it off and tosses it over the armrest, leaning down to kiss her hair.
“Thanks, noona! How was work this week?” Chanyeol spreads himself out between the couch and the table in front of the TV.
“It was ok. Busy, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Same here, I guess.” Chanyeol turns the TV volume up a few notches as the travel show he’s been watching comes back from commercial break.
“Kris said you’ve been moping.” Yura sets her beer on the edge of table and peels off her socks. Chanyeol pretends to gag at the smell and steals her drink.
“Well, it is almost midterms.” He takes a swallow. “Hey, how do you know Kris?” He turns to stare at her but his sister smoothly changes the subject and starts rambling about her new boyfriend as she wipes the chipped polish from her nails with a twist of cotton wool. Chanyeol nods along, his attention sliding between her monologue and the giant tonkatsu being fried on screen until her toenails are sufficiently dry enough for her to start on his coat.
Yura slides her tray of polish over to make room for the small sewing kit she unpacks on the table before turning Chanyeol’s pocket inside out for inspection.
“Oh honey, I don’t know if I can fix this.” She bites her lip and plucks at ragged threads. “The lining’s raveled so much I don’t know if it’ll hold a seam.” She holds it up to the light from the window. The gap is big enough Chanyeol could probably fit his fist through and the edges of the seam are so frayed it looks more like fringe than a piece of cloth. “Did you stop using it like I told you to?”
“Yes!” Chanyeol switched to his canvas jacket that day and hasn’t touched the winter one since. It’s not his fault he had to wait a week for someone to fix it.
“Ok, ok,” Yura says, wrinkling her nose as she threads a fine strand of polyester onto her needle. “I’ll do my best, so save your tears.” Chanyeol’s fingertips brush his eyelashes in search of tears before he realizes it was just a turn of phrase. He sits up, forcing his knees to fold into the narrow space behind the table, and changes the channel.
Yura keeps talking as she fixes his coat. She mentions one of their old neighborhood friends is getting married in the summer, to some British guy she met while working in London. She says their grandmother is almost over the bad cold she caught around New Year’s and tells him to call her sometime soon. She asks after Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, Jongin, and Baekhyun’s class pet rabbit. She asks after Luhan.
Chanyeol responds with every interesting piece of news he’s managed to save up over the last month of an infinitesimally mind numbing winter break, careful not to graze too deeply over the more controversial bits. Like Jongin. Not that Jongin would be controversial if people like Kris would keep their noses to themselves.
Yura doesn’t push for information, and Chanyeol is grateful. He’s fully relaxed and getting sleepy after two more beers, curled up on the floor with a blanket by the time she finishes with his coat. It’s late enough into spring he should probably turn off the ondol during the day, but this is just too cozy.
“All finished!” Yura reaches over Chanyeol to plunge her needle into the pin cushion on the table. He lifts his head to check out his coat as she holds it up for inspection. The hole is gone and the new seam looks tight when she prods it with her finger.
“You’re the best!” Chanyeol hugs her legs to his chest and she drops the coat to ruffle his messy hair. “Thanks.”
“Just be careful with it, ok? No carrying around lead weights or razor blades in your pockets!”
“Ok, I’ll be careful. Do you think it’ll hold?” She sighs and folds the coat neatly into quarters. He should probably get it dry cleaned before he packs it away til next fall, but then he’d have to fold it again himself.
“It’s hard to tell. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“Ok.”
She tugs lightly on his ears until he lets go. “Hand me that knife?” Yura points at the fruit knife nestled in the bag of chamoe and Chanyeol passes it to her with one of the melons. “It might tear again but we’ll just have to keep fixing it.”
She peels some fruit and feeds it to Chanyeol piece by piece while they watch to the end of the latest episode of We Got Married. It’s overripe and tastes like nail polish remover. Chanyeol wants to throw up.
Luhan’s necklace, the key shaped one he basically never takes off, only cost 3,000 won. They found it on sale in a tiny shop in one of those underground shopping markets. Maybe it was in Gangnam, maybe Myeongdong. Anyway, they hadn’t been shopping for Luhan at all, they were trying to find a Christmas present for Yura. Not that Chanyeol couldn’t have picked something decent himself, but who goes shopping by themselves? All the lonely people, of whom Chanyeol was not one. Not last year, anyway.
And Luhan liked to go shopping, unlike lazy Jongin who would rather order one size fits all hoodies online, ‘cause no one in the arts building cared if your clothes actually fit anyway. Everyone’s warm ups were always sizes too big.
They were in their 47th little shop of the day since lunch, probably. They’d pushed through racks of pleated skirts and crocheted cardigans and picked through shelves of cheap leather wallets stamped with the Union Jack or the Chanel double “c”, ear studs, hair ribbons, flower wreaths the like belonged on some woodland nymph in one of Junmyeon’s theater troupe plays, glass bangles, nose rings, you name it. If only they could have found something music related, Chanyeol would’ve gladly thrown in the towel and called it a day.
He’d seen a keyboard necklace a few weeks ago while keeping Jongdae company on a shopping adventure. He’d seen three, actually, so he should have been able to find something similar, but four hours, two coffees, and three blisters later, still no luck.
“Hey, you wanna go get something? Are you getting thirsty again?”
“What?” Luhan said, his back to Chanyeol.
“I said,” Chanyeol teetered onto his tiptoes and tried not to breathe as a teenager in wobbly stilettos squeezed past down the narrow aisle between the blouses and the clearance sun dresses. “Are you thirsty again? We’ve been at this all day, hyung. I don’t want to wear you out!”
Luhan swiveled on his heel and raised the take out cup in his hand. The ice rattled at the halfway mark. “Yeol, we just got here, what are you talking about?”
“But--!” Chanyeol liked to go shopping, he really did, especially with Luhan, but he was starting to get blisters from his favorite, very comfy, perfectly broken in sneakers. Blisters from sneakers, that’s just wrong.
“Well, maybe we should try another shopping place.” Luhan’s back was turned to him again. He was fingering a flat metal pendant on a long strip of black leather; Chanyeol could see it in the mirror next to the accessories. “I mean, if you can’t find anything here.”
“Haven’t we basically tried them all?” Chanyeol sighed, watching Luhan play with the necklace in the mirror.
“I don’t think that’s possible! Even someone as ambitious as Taozi would be hard pressed to cover every shop in Seoul!” Luhan turned back to Chanyeol with a chuckle, letting the pendant fall from his fingers. It was cast in the shape of an old fashioned key, like the one Aunt Youngja used to wind her cuckoo clock, Chanyeol noted as it swung on the rack. “Here, give me your cup.”
“What?” Luhan pulled Chanyeol’s empty cappuccino cup from his hands.
“I’ll go get something hot from the vending machine.” He nudged Chanyeol’s arm with his elbow. “Don’t wander too far from here, ok?”
“Yes, Mother!” Chanyeol rolled his eyes but smiled and didn’t try to duck away from the punch Luhan aimed at his shoulder. He couldn’t hit very hard with an empty paper cup in his hand, anyway. Luhan ducked through the racks in the crowded shop, pausing to flash Chanyeol one last smile before he disappeared around the corner.
Chanyeol grabbed the key necklace off the rack and dropped it on the chipping laminate counter. The shop girl heaved herself out of a folding chair by the side entrance with a sigh and tripped on a pile of unsorted merchandise on the way over.
“That’ll be 3,000 even,” she yawned, and punched something into the cash register. Chanyeol handed over the bills and picked up the necklace before she could offer him a bag.
“I don’t need the receipt, thanks!” She nodded and tucked a strand of orange hair behind her ear.
“Goodbye now.”
Chanyeol stuffed the pendant and all of the leather strap into his back pocket just as Luhan reappeared out of the crowd. He accepted the small can of hot cocoa Luhan handed him and allowed himself to be pulled down the shopping alley to the next place with racks of cheap jewelry.
When they finally resurfaced on the street to find a noodle restaurant a few hours later the streetlights were already on. Chanyeol shivered into the damp breeze even though he was still a little sweaty from the overheated indoor mall.
They ducked into a ramen place at the end of the block and Chanyeol hunkered into a seat next to Luhan at the counter, his knees knocking into the paneled wood in front of his stool. Luhan sighed dramatically, making a show of unwinding his knit scarf and pulling off his matching gloves one finger at a time. Chanyeol slipped his fingers into his back pocket.
“What are you doing?” Luhan demanded as Chanyeol tugged the leather loop over his head and adjusted the key at the front of his baggy sweater. “Yeol?”
“It looked like you,” Chanyeol said and shrugged, withdrawing his hands to twist in his lap. “I mean, like something you would wear. You like it, right?” Luhan looked down at the necklace, then turned with an open mouthed gape.
“You little sneak! I walk away for five minutes and--!”
“But you like it?”
Luhan closed his eyes and gave a sharp nod. “No one’s ever given me a necklace before.” He glanced over to make sure the proprietor was still busy stirring a steaming pot over the stove before pressing his lips to Chanyeol’s temple. “Thanks, Yeol.” He squished their cheeks together and tightened his arm around Chanyeol’s waist.
They never did find one of those keyboard necklaces for Yura, but that’s ok because--well, let’s just say Chanyeol doesn’t remember the rest of dinner except that was pretty much the best fucking ramen he’s ever tasted.
April
They’re barely a month into the spring semester but Chanyeol is already feeling suffocated by the workload. He’s working later shifts in the lab, which means his commute home takes longer with crowded and delayed subway transfers, and he has less time to hang around the studio with Jongin. Jongin is busy too, rehearsing something with Sehun at an off-campus studio for a charity show, but they make up for lost time when they can.
Today is Wednesday so Chanyeol doesn’t have to stay late at the stockroom, but since Luhan’s traveling again for a few days he’s in no rush to get home. Out of habit he joins the usual study party at Kris’, minus Yixing who is holed up in his room sleeping off an extra night shift he picked up this week.
Everyone’s settled into the dry fatigue that comes just before midterms, but Chanyeol’s comfy enough with Jongin folded into his side on the living room floor. Jongin is reviewing English flashcards, slowly shuffling the deck with soft little sighs as Chanyeol twines fingers into his thick hair and strokes gently at his scalp. Chanyeol is trying to imprint microbio vocab into his brain, but it’s slow going. Latin is just so…
“Agh, how is it already after three?” Jongin groans, peeling his cheek from the printed logo on the front of Chanyeol’s shirt as he sits up.
“You have rehearsal?” Chanyeol asks and smoothes Jongin’s hair back from his forehead. Jongin nods, yawning as he stretches forward to grab his ankles.
“I should…” He checks his phone messages and frowns. “Shit, I gotta run, I’ll see you all later!”
“Don’t forget your extra jacket by the door!” Jongdae hollers after him as Jongin crams his study cards into his dance bag and jogs through the narrow kitchen. The door slams.
“So are you going to do that in front of Luhan when he comes back?” Kris asks, his voice soft and carefully neutral.
“What?” Chanyeol snaps his gum, startled from counting the prongs on the spiral notebook Jongin dropped in his lap when he jumped up.
“Are you going to do that in front of Luhan?”
“What?” Chanyeol shoves Jongin’s notebook out if his lap and scratches his belly under the waistband of his sweats. “We’re just doing homework.” Jongdae shoots him a dark look. Not the one he uses when he tries to pick up girls in clubs and strikes out, but the one he gives Jongin when his roommate is four days delinquent on taking out the trash again.
“Really,” Jongdae says, not blinking.
“What!” Chanyeol demands, getting annoyed at how this conversation is making him sound like a tropical parrot with a severely limited vocabulary.
“You two are all over each other whe--”
“But--!”
“--all the time.” Jongdae cuts off Chanyeol’s protests with an eyeroll.
“I don’t get why everyone’s accusing me of--of--!” Chanyeol grits his teeth and groans in frustration when he can’t find the words he wants. Maybe this horrible, Luhanless winter really has turned him into a fucking parrot.
“We’re just friends!” He yanks on the strings of his hoodie until the opening tightens around his throat like a noose. “Han hyung even said it was fine, that it’s ok, that he appreciates that Jongin is around to take care of me.” That he trusts Chanyeol.
“Ok,” Kris nods. “So he trusts you. What about later? Are you going to feel comfortable doing... that,” he waves the pen in his fist, “in front of Luhan?”
“I don’t know!” Chanyeol scrubs his palms over his eyes, trying to wipe away the sudden image of Amber’s arm tight around Luhan’s waist.
“Well if you haven’t thought about it, you probably should.” Kris drops his pen and rocks back on the feet of his chair.
“Why,” Chanyeol moans into his wrist. “Hyung, I’m so tired of thinking! I--” He rolls onto his belly, the ancient wool rug fibers digging into his face like needle fine claws. “I hate my brain sometimes! All the time…”
“Chanyeol,” Jongdae sighs. He kicks him in the ankle. “We know it’s hard, ok? Nobody’s denying that. But what about Jongin?”
“What about Jongin?” Chanyeol growls, the prickly carpet not improving his mood at all.
“How’s he going to feel when Luhan comes back?” Kris says. “Are you going to just drop him?”
“Drop him?” Chanyeol grunts, propping himself up onto his elbows. “What do you mean, ‘drop him’? Of course we’ll still hang out!” What kind of horrible person do they think he is? Seriously?
“I’m not talking about hanging out,” Kris huffs, starting to sound annoyed.
“Then what--!”
“He means the sleepovers and the back hugs and the movie cuddles and the nuzzling!” Jongdae snaps. He looks almost angry, his hands tightening around a throw pillow.
“We’re friends,” Chanyeol repeats stupidly. “Just friends and--”
“Geez, Yeol! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed Jongin likes you!” Jongdae tosses his cap. The bill knocks into the backs of Chanyeol’s calves.
“W-what?” Chanyeol splutters. “Jongie--”
“He’s been a little in love with you since freshman year, since Junmyeon sunbae introduced you at that after party, but--”
“But he never said anything so how--!”
“Because you met Han hyung a few weeks after and he’s not an asshole, unlike some people around here!” Jongdae’s lips are pressed together in a tight pout, not the one he uses on Minseok when he wants a ride to the shopping mall, but the anxious one that shows up when he gets a low score on a particularly brutal lab quiz.
“We’re just friends,” Chanyeol says, blinking at the faded geometric curlicues on the rug. Even though the colors are dull the pattern is still crisp, the delineation of the shapes sharp in contrast.
“Is that what you’ve been communicating to Jonginnie the past few months?” Kris steeples his hands under his chin. All he needs are some wrinkles and a tobacco pipe and he could pass an audition for Gandalf in the next Hobbit installation, creepy-ass eyebrows and the whole package.
Chanyeol opens his mouth and Kris holds up a hand. His bony wrist peeks out of his jersey sleeve. “I don’t mean verbally, because I highly doubt the two of you actually talked about this. I mean emotionally, because Jongin has feelings too.”
Kris has a slightly guilty, mostly reproving frown etched into the corners of his mouth. He probably thinks this little chat is an awkward part of his hyung duty, or whatever. Chanyeol sits up, trying not to cringe, and rakes a shaky hand through his hair.
“I know,” Chanyeol says, “everyone does. Even Soo.” Kris’ frown winces inward. Jongdae rolls his eyes, his head hitting the arm of the sofa with a thud.
“At least think about it, if you haven’t.” Kris is already staring at his accounting homework, pen in hand, when Chanyeol glances over. He nods mutely in amusement even though no one’s watching him anymore and flips open his lab notes.
Chanyeol thinks Jongdae is fucking kidding if he seriously thinks Jongin has feelings--that kind of feelings--for Chanyeol, because no. Just no. Chanyeol would have noticed before now if that were the case. Right? Right.
Everything is totally cool, he tells himself, although his resident rodent population doesn’t seem to agree. It seems like they’ve been multiplying like, well, rodents while he sleeps or something.
Chanyeol steals the throw pillow from under Jongdae’s head and shoves it between his belly and the floor. He smirks at Jongdae’s sharp whine of protest, the pressure on his gut finally easing some of the roiling dread. He digs in his bag for a highlighter, humming a soft note of pleasure when he finds his favorite, the lucky green gel highlighter which is on permanent loan from Junmyeon since last semester. Junmyeon had sighed but smiled fondly when Chanyeol sheepishly asked to borrow it back in September, reaching up to pat Chanyeol’s head with gentle fingers when he handed it over.
September was back when things were really... not good, when Chanyeol could barely remember what day of the week it was and took to copying everything--from his class schedule to his grocery list--onto his palm, ala Waiter Zitao. September was when even Minseok doled out comforting hugs and side squeezes without being pestered for them and Yixing gave weak-thumbed but affectionate back rubs during Mainland soap opera marathons Chanyeol couldn’t really understand but invited himself to anyway. (No one could say anything if Chanyeol’s eyes got a little misty when half the screen time was devoted to closeups of the main leads sobbing to a soundtrack of piano ballads exclusively played an octave above middle C in E flat minor.)
September was when Yura had to cajole him to finish off a box of pizza and Jongdae clung to his shoulders an unnecessary extra thirty seconds during attack back hugs. September was when he spaced out in calc enough to bomb the first test and Jongin brought him chicken, even though he’s not the hyung in this relationship. September was when Kris texted awkward inspirational quotes at bedtime which he probably copied off some blog on Naver, and even Kyungsoo didn’t make fun of his ears or his flailing for a record thirteen days and 4.3 hours (Jongdae counted). So see, really, it wasn’t just Jongin he got closer to, Chanyeol thinks with a tight curl of vindication in his ribcage, somewhere between justified and satisfaction.
He manages to focus on his lab notes for a few hours to the familiar soundtrack of Jongdae’s purring snores and Kris’ little huffs of concentration. The chipmunk in his gut never quite manages to fall asleep though, constantly uncurling itself and nestling back into a restless ball right next to his liver. It’s probably because the universe just really hates him right now, but maybe it’s a sign he should cut back on the soju, regardless. It’s getting a little embarrassing to take out his recycling with the number of bottles he and Jongin can empty in a weekend these days.
Kris doesn’t say anything other than a quiet goodnight when Chanyeol packs up his bag to catch the last train home, but he does give Chanyeol a slight eyebrow raise and a short nod that translates to you better think about what your hyung said or Minseok will be paying a visit with too many frowns and not enough alcohol.
“I know, I know, I’ll think about it!” Chanyeol says, firmly enough to sound convincing, he hopes, but quiet so as not to wake Jongdae. He smiles until his gums start to get cold in the open doorway, and Kris gives another tight nod.
“Tell Luhan I said hi when you call.”
“Sure thing, hyung!”
Kris shuts the door, the automatic lock beeping faintly, and Chanyeol shivers in the thin spring air.
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