Solstice for chwihae [2/3]

[yeolliepopday]

Chanyeol breathes out, exasperated, while he and Yixing stand at one side of the confined reception hall. A few benches are lined up across the receptionist’s stand, all fully occupied. Just like the restaurant itself.

“Well, at least we’re not number ten?” Yixing offers with an amused look on his face.

Chanyeol chuckles despite himself, jamming both hands in the pockets of his jeans. He goes to lean back on the wall where Yixing is already propped in a lazy slouch.

“Of course,” he nods earnestly. “Nine is a tremendous improvement.”

Yixing lightly elbows him in the ribs, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “That’s the spirit!”

Chanyeol’s shoulders shake with muted laughter as he shuffles his feet, subtly inching crabwise until his shoulder is flush next to Yixing’s. He hopes the other man doesn’t notice; but then the next second, he’s sagging against Chanyeol’s lanky frame, unabashedly depositing most of his weight onto him so that the taller man has to readjust his foothold to keep them from toppling sideways. Of course Chanyeol doesn’t complain.

“We don’t have to wait, though.”He mutters, body stiff as a board. He’s trying not to make any sudden movements that Yixing might misconstrue as a signal that he's uncomfortable and wants him to move away. Only because that would be rude. “I mean, if you’re hungry-”

Yixing shakes his head. “I can wait. Hey, but if you’re-”

“Hey, Park Chanyeol.”

The voice alone makes Chanyeol start. It’s a distinct timbre that he can associate with only one person. He looks up just as he hears Yixing’s quiet “oh,” beside him. Ice-cold dread lances through his gut.

For all the height that Chanyeol’s got on Kyungsoo, the man in an all-blank ensemble comes across terribly intimidating even when he’s just standing there, breathing. His eyes are big and unblinking as they rest on Chanyeol’s colorless face, like a cold blade ghosting over his skin.

It suddenly occurs to him that he can’t feel Yixing’s weight on him anymore. He looks to his side and tries not to frown when he finds the man standing with his back off the wall, a full step away.

“No reservation?” Kyungsoo asks, not unkindly but not like he cares all that much either.

“No. This... this was just a spontaneous thing.”

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at that, gives him a knowing look. “Of course, it is.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know what the heck he’s looking so smug about. Or maybe he does. He swallows his own spit as panic begins to stir in the pit of his stomach. Kyungsoo is looking at him expectantly now. He can feel Yixing’s eyes on him, too.

“This is Yixing,” Chanyeol pauses to clear his parched throat. “Zhang Yixing-an old friend of mine from China. This is Do Kyungsoo, my-”

Closet casual fling? Secret fuck buddy?

"...friend. From... here in downtown."

Kyungsoo gives him a look, like he wants to scoff at the label. They’d probably have to know more about each other - other than the best way to stroke the other’s dick for optimal effect - to be classified as ‘friends’. Kyungsoo isn’t the post-coital-snuggling type, whereas Chanyeol kind of is, but only if there were actual feelings involved. Otherwise, why bother? As things stand, all this is, is a mutually beneficial arrangement between two men who prefer dicks over vaginas, who happen to be stuck in a place that is largely unforgiving of men who prefer dicks over vaginas. But Yixing really doesn’t need to know any of that.

Kyungsoo is calm, almost eerily so, when he turns to Yixing. He politely tips his head forward in greeting. Yixing, being Yixing, instantly bends forward at the waist. Chanyeol almost wants to laugh at the way Kyungsoo’s dark stare unexpectedly fades into something a little less cutting. Yixing does tend to have a thawing effect even on the coldest people.

“It’s good to meet you.” Yixing smiles.

Kyungsoo looks somewhat caught off guard. He’s even smiling back a little bit, courteous if nothing else, when he responds. “Likewise. Your Korean is very good.”

“It is, right?” Yixing beams, looking mighty pleased to hear it. “This jerk here doesn’t think so.”

Chanyeol yelps when he’s suddenly elbowed in the side again, more violent than the first time.

Kyungsoo’s mouth bends some more, making the heart shape of it more obvious. “He's lying.”

Chanyeol doesn’t refute it; he takes to pouting like a petulant child instead. He’s about to spit out a rebuttal when somebody standing by the door calls out for Kyungsoo. He’s with a group, apparently. Probably his colleagues and half of them are already filing in. Clearly they were smart enough to call in a reservation ahead of time.

“I should go. It was nice to meet you,” he tells Yixing before turning to Chanyeol. “Later?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol automatically chirps. He doesn’t quite process what that question really means before the affirmation is out of his mouth. Once he does, two seconds too late, he tries not to visibly grimace as he sends himself a mental kick in the crotch.

If Yixing notices his discomfort or that little smirk on Kyungsoo’s face as he walks away, he doesn’t mention it. Chanyeol turns to him abruptly, practiced grin in place.

“Hey, you know what, let’s just go somewhere else. It looks like this is going to take a while.”

Yixing doesn’t even pause to think. “Actually,” he moves away from the wall to stand in front of the taller man. “I’ve got a better idea.”

“Yeah?”

Yixing’s eyes are gentle as always as he stares up at Chanyeol. There’s a small smile there, too, though not enough to make a deep dent on his cheek.

“Let’s go to the market.”

❀❀❀

“I don’t understand why you’re not taking a music track in university.” Chanyeol absently muttered in amazement. “This is genius.”

He and Yixing were tucked away in the latter’s room, Yixing having had just returned from his language class and Chanyeol from a lecture on acoustics and music production. The older boy was hunched over a textbook on his desk while Chanyeol lay on his stomach on the bed, watching the other’s back. He had earbuds plugged in, connected to Yixing’s trusty old MP3 player where he stored his own music, both finished and not. Chanyeol was drinking it all in.

Yixing slowly turned in his chair. Chanyeol couldn’t hear a thing but he did notice that the boy’s mouth was moving. He unplugged his right ear.

“What?”

Yixing stretched his hands above his head as his legs extended over the polished floor, ankles hooking together.

“I said I haven’t really decided,” he repeated, arms crossing on his chest. “But Papa wants me to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” He paused with a thoughtful frown, the one that he always got whenever he wasn’t sure if he was forgetting something or not. “I’ve told you about that, haven’t I?”

“Yes - but, I mean,” Chanyeol switched off the music. He shifted on his side, propping himself up on both arms until he was sitting Indian-style on the covers. He holds up the MP3 player in his hand. “This is what you’re really passionate about, right? Music?”

Adults had often been quick to mock whenever he started spouting words like ‘passion’, saying that he was too young for big concepts like that. But he knew - he’d known from the start, that however people sliced it, passion was simply music for him. And over the course of two weeks, he’d come to see the same fire in Yixing, no matter how much he’d claimed that it was only a hobby.

“Sure, but things can change, you know. I’m just as passionate about helping people.”

Chanyeol didn’t doubt that for a second. In fact, he thought that the white glow cast around him by the desk lamp, like a visible, angelic aura, suited him perfectly. But, still.

“So put up a charity? Or donate to one? Volunteer?”

Yixing smiled that soft smile that made Chanyeol feel like a silly child.

“It’s not the same. Besides, I can still do music on the side as a hobby,” he said, almost like it was rehearsed.

If Chanyeol were to be completely honest, he’d say that these all sounded like excuses. That Yixing was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Chanyeol that becoming a doctor was the right choice. They had spent enough time together for him to figure out that Yixing was big on responsibility. He’d never met anyone his age with a more solid grip on his moral compass. Yixing would be the type to give everything up, to deny himself, all in the name of filial piety; for the sake of upholding his principles.

Chanyeol didn’t necessarily agree. If this were any other person he might have remarked something that could possible come off as antagonistic; but this was Yixing, and so he chewed on his bottom lip - a conscious effort to prevent potentially offensive remarks from spilling over. He couldn’t really do anything about the conflict and disappointment that flashed in his eyes, though.

Yixing chuckled, like he knew exactly what Chanyeol was thinking, what he was trying to do. He angled forward, elbows on his knees.

“Look,” he said, indulgently. “I’m going to help you with your final composition, right? Then you’ll win, and then your song will be recorded by a popular artist, and then that’ll be my small contribution to the music scene.”

Chanyeol stared at him like he was the most ridiculous thing on the planet. Yixing was grinning like a mad man though, and he simply couldn’t help but splutter out a laugh.

“I don’t know about this logic of yours, hyung, but hell yes, we’re going to win this thing,” he declared with a smug look on his face.

“That’s the spirit,” said Yixing as he got up and padded over to the bed. He playfully pulled at the outer shell of Chanyeol’s ear the second he was close enough. Chanyeol scrunched up his nose but didn’t bat his hand away. He was used to this by now, but he pouted anyway, just to be a brat. Yixing chuckled, a combination of mirth and fondness dancing in his eyes, and Chanyeol’s heart swelled.

“Tell me what you want to eat. I’ll cook it for you.”

Chanyeol beamed.

❀❀❀

“So who’s Do Kyungsoo?”

He chokes on a mouthful of Yixing’s homemade Fettuccine Alfredo. Yixing promptly reaches across the kitchen island to rub a soothing hand on his shoulder while sliding a box of tissue in front of him with the other.

Chanyeol quietly marvels at Yixing’s uncanny ability to catch him completely off-guard. He pushes the food down with big gulps of water then wipes his mouth clean with a couple of table napkins.

“I told you-”

“A friend from downtown - yes, I remember.” Yixing cuts in without inflection. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” is his instantaneous response. He valiantly maintains eye contact even as Yixing begins to squint, searching his face intently like he’s a book with very tiny font that he’s trying to read. He does it to keep up appearances, make it seem like he’s being honest. It backfires, though.

“You’re lying.”

Chanyeol tenses. He forces a crooked grin, anyway, and hopes that it doesn’t look too stiff.

“How do you figure that?”

Yixing plants his elbows on the countertop as he leans in. Holding up the fork like a pen, he proceeds to wave the greasy tines in front of Chanyeol’s face. “You do this strange quirk of the mouth,” he says. “And you get a subtle, odd twitch in your eye when you’re not telling the truth.”

Chanyeol freezes, pales. He actually knows all of that to be true, but he never knew that Yixing had taken notes. How does he even remember all of this? And what is he even supposed to say to that now?

“But it’s fine,” Yixing follows up easily. “You don’t really have to tell me. It’s none of my business.” He turns to his own plate, spearing as many mushrooms and bacon bits as his fork can hold.

It takes a couple of seconds to get Chanyeol’s voice to work again.

“I feel like I’m at a staggering disadvantage here. I don’t know when you lie.” He’s deflecting, and not being very subtle about it either. But thankfully Yixing doesn’t call him on it.

“Not my fault you’re not very observant.”

Chanyeol’s mouth opens to react - because that’s what he does; he reacts - but ends up just closing it again when, shockingly enough, he can’t seem to come up with anything to say back. He looks down at his pasta but he’s suddenly not very hungry anymore.

A layer of tension that wasn’t there before now seems to linger in the room, piling up thicker as dead air keeps on stretching. He tastes a bit of guilt in his mouth, though he can’t imagine why. He’s probably over-thinking this, he tells himself.

He catches a flash of silver when a fork suddenly jumps in out of nowhere to attack a particularly large bit of bacon on his plate.

“I ran out.” Yixing explains, shamelessly unapologetic.

Chanyeol blinks at him incredulously. He tries to go after his mushrooms as revenge, but Yixing is quick to fend off his fork with his own. Chanyeol gets an idea. then He glances at a random spot above Yixing’s head, pretends to be taken by surprise - complete with a startled, “what the hell is that!” - and Yixing falls for it. Chanyeol steals two mushrooms when the other man glances behind him. When he turns back, Chanyeol is already chewing away, a triumphant smirk on his face.

He’s pretty sure Yixing is trying really hard to look upset, with how he’s furrowing his brows and glaring at him. The attempt lasts a grand total of three seconds before the whole façade collapses. He splutters out a laugh and shoves at Chanyeol’s shoulder with enough force to make him jerk back, but not enough to hurt.

And just like that, the tension is gone. Easy as pie. Or bacon bits in white sauce.

When they’re well into their seconds, after Chanyeol has regaled him with stories about his misadventures with Baekhyun and Jongdae during their days in university, he looks up from his food and asks, “So what is it that you came all the way down here for, anyway?”

Yixing blinks at him innocently. “What, you don’t think I’m here to see you?”

Chanyeol snorts. “Okay, now I know that’s a lie,” he says, fixing him with a look. “You should have seen your face when you opened the door and saw me standing there.”

Yixing’s cheeks color faintly at that.

“Okay, you caught me,” he says, laughing. “It’s just that you were so adamant about leaving this place right after high school, so I thought you’d have left by now. I didn’t think you’d be managing your family’s property eventually.”

“Well, you’re not wrong; I did leave.” Chanyeol tells him. “And I’m more of a... financer. I don’t exactly manage anything here - that’s all Yura noona. I run a studio in Seoul with Baekhyun and Jongdae now.”

Yixing smiles, eyes glittering. “Wow, look at you. Congratulations, Cànliè.”

He takes in the sheer delight on Yixing’s face and it makes his chest swell with pride. He has come a long way from the young, starry-eyed, music-enthusiast that flew to China with nothing but dreams in his pocket.

“What about you?” He sets his fork down on the edge of the plate, folding his arms on the surface of the counter. Whatever little is left of his pasta has gotten cold by now anyway.

“Me?” Yixing, always the faster eater between the two of them, cleans off his plate and sets his own fork down on the center of it. He washes down the last of his pasta with some homemade milk tea. “I’m a doctor now. Almost done with my residency.”

It takes a couple of seconds for that to sink in. Chanyeol finds himself forging a smile. It’s incredible how much effort it takes to keep his tone neutral.

“So you did end up picking medicine, huh?”

Retrieving his fork, he finishes his food in one swoop, mostly just to give himself a legitimate excuse to look somewhere else.

He shouldn't be shocked. He's not, actually. Sure, they’d had a lot of fun working together on Chanyeol’s music; had learned so much about each other and about the art of marrying sound to words, giving life to rhythm, that by the end of it, Yixing had started looking up universities that offered courses in music. But he had promised his father that he was going to become a doctor and Chanyeol knows that he’s not the type to go back on his word.

So when Yixing says, “No, I picked music,” he isn’t quite able to hide his surprise.

“You... picked music,” he echoes, unblinking eyes wide with disbelief.

Yixing hums in the affirmative. “And then I shifted to premed after a year.”

Ah...

Of course, he did.

“Because of your father?”

“Partly.” Yixing gathers both plates to bring over to the dishwasher. He seems to have no intention to expound on the matter so Chanyeol opts not to probe. He gets up and offers to help, but Yixing backs up, taking the dishes away from his reach.

“You're my guest.”

“Actually,” Chanyeol half grins. “Technically, you’re my guest.”

Yixing balks. He’s got his clueless/thinking face on and Chanyeol still finds it so cute even after all this time that he has to try to restrain himself from doing something ridiculous like... maybe poke his cheek. Or kiss it. Or, no, maybe just poke it.

“Right,” mutters Yixing. “Well, you cooked the pasta and washed the pot. You've done your part, so just... sit.”

What he means is that Chanyeol boiled the water and dumped the pot in the washer. It’s hardly comparable to all the work that he’s done, but Chanyeol knows better than to argue. A smile creeps up his face as he watches Yixing’s back. He recalls the time Mama Zhang shot him down pretty much the same way.

“How is Mama Zhang doing?”

Chanyeol doesn’t miss the sudden lapse in Yixing’s movements. His shoulders are tense as he puts in the last of the utensils in the rack.

“She passed away over a year ago.”

Chanyeol almost forgets to exhale.

“I’m...” He swallows, reeling from the shot of pain that ricochets in his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Yixing gets the washer started then turns to lean back against the sink, hands gripping the edge.

“She was sick for a long time,” he says, his voice steady; somber. “We had to sell the guesthouse early on because she was working more than she was resting and it wasn’t good for her. Papa already had a different family; we didn’t want to bother him. I could have taken over but she had wanted me to focus on my studies. She didn’t know but I eventually took a part time job at a restaurant to help out with the expenses. We weren’t doing too badly, financially, but I just. I needed to get my life together. I didn't want to... I didn't want to be a problem for her.”

Chanyeol almost flinches. A problem.

He wants to ask if that was the reason why he’d stopped talking to him all of a sudden. If he was one of the things that he felt like he needed to purge from his life. He’s not mad, not really; he just wants to understand. But now is not the right time for that and Chanyeol knows it.

For a moment he just looks at Yixing as he unravels in front of him, as if finally breaking at the tattered seams, and his heart breaks a little. He looks exhausted.

Yixing takes a deep breath and averts his gaze, rolling his shoulders back, as though to recollect himself. When he turns back to Chanyeol, his eyes are a blank slate again.

“She asked about you a lot, though,” Yixing tells him with a rueful smile. “She knew we kept in touch.”

Chanyeol sees the opening. It's so easy to steer the conversation in that direction, but he doesn’t take it. Some other time, maybe.

“She was a rockstar,” he says fondly, sincerely.

“Yeah, she was.” Yixing's smile reaches his eyes now, at least.

He goes to the fridge and pulls out two cans of beer. He waves one at Chanyeol and brings it over to the table when he gets a nod in response.

“You still haven't told me why you’re here, though,” says Chanyeol. He puts the drink to his lips and tips it back.

Yixing slips into his seat with a thoughtful expression.

“You know how I fixate on things, right? I get very competitive with myself, too. Very determined.”

“Very stubborn,” Chanyeol pointedly states, arcing an eyebrow. “Are you stalling?”

“I’m not, okay - let me finish.” Yixing lightly chuckles. Chanyeol leans back in his chair and tries not to look as proud as he actually feels about being the cause of that sound.

“I...” He hesitates for a second, takes a sip of alcohol. “Well, the bottom line is that I have some decisions to make and I’m taking this time to...” His brows knit together, probably searching for the right translation in his mental database. Chanyeol can almost hear the cogs turning in his head. “...recalibrate.”

Fair enough, Chanyeol thinks. They get a lot of those kinds of visitors.

What kind of decisions? He wants to ask, but it’s probably not his place to pry.

“Anyway, I found an ad for the Gunhangjae festival while sifting through brochures from the travel agency. I read ‘Jinhae’, remembered you, and thought, why not?”

“Remembered me,” Chanyeol scoffs. He wraps a hand around the cold can, unmindful of the rivulets of precipitation under his fingertips. “And yet you came down here expecting that I wouldn’t be here.”

He actually kind of means it, if he’s being very frank. And he should probably be a little bit offended that Yixing brays with laughter at his quasi-indignant expression, but he finds that he rather likes that sound very much. So he shoots the man a glare for good measure and is rewarded with a giggle.

“I'm sorry if this bruises your ego but I’m here, first and foremost, for the festival.”

Chanyeol feigns hurt for all of two seconds until Yixing reaches over to pinch his scrunched up nose.

“I’m really glad you’re here, though, Chanyeol,” he tells him earnestly, and all of a sudden his entire face feel like it’s on fire. He takes a swig of beer to hide his flushed cheeks - or to have an excuse for them other than simply being flustered under Yixing's attention. It's silly, really; it's high school all over again.

“Tell me what your itinerary’s like.”

Yixing ducks, lightly scratching the side of his neck. “Actually, I don’t have an itinerary,” he mutters sheepishly.

“Oh. That’s... fine. But do you have the schedule for the festival events, at least?”

Yixing blinks. “Umm.”

Chanyeol’s brows shoot up. “Are you serious?"

“I did look it up, though,” the doctor is quick to jump to his own defense. “I just don’t remember right now. I didn’t memorize it,” he says and Chanyeol tries not to snort because, honestly, he’d probably end up forgetting it either way. “I was planning to sign up for one of those local tour things that I read about online.”

He means the overpriced (in Chanyeol’s opinion, anyway; he’s always been a cheapskate) packages that some opportunistic locals organize to take advantage of the swarm of clueless outsiders during festival season.

Chanyeol shakes his head. “Trust me, hyung, you don’t really want to blow over a hundred thousand won just for that.”

Yixing takes a sip of his beer. He’s already pink in the face despite not having that much to drink yet. Chanyeol smiles because tipsy Yixing is as cute now as he was when they were teenagers sneaking in mildly alcoholic beverages into Yixing’s room. He can handle his alcohol much better now. Yixing, on the other hand, looks like he hasn’t grown out of being a lightweight.

“Are you saying you’ll be my tour guide?”

He really doesn’t have to ask, Chanyeol thinks. He humors him, though.

“Only if you keep making food for me.”

Yixing smiles up at him, flush-faced, droopy-eyed, and terribly cute.

Chanyeol’s heart betrays him and kind of skips a beat. Or two.

“Deal.”

The next morning, Chanyeol jolts awake at the sound of the alarm.

He defiantly rolls on his stomach, as if he can terminate the incessant beeping by sheer will alone. It gets exponentially louder, though, drilling into his skull mercilessly the longer it persists. Annoyed, he lazily flings out a long arm from under the covers, blindly gropes for the table clock, and narrowly misses the night lamp as he slams down on the snooze button hard. He buries his face in stacks of pillows, groaning when he senses the onset of a throbbing headache between his eyes.

Yixing had taken forever to finish a single can of beer last night. If Chanyeol didn't know any better, he’d say that the man had done that on purpose to extend their impromptu drinking session. Then again, it’s more likely that he was only pacing himself, just like a responsible drinker should. He kept handing Chanyeol one new can after another, which he didn’t turn down because the truth is, he may have sort of secretly wanted to hang out with Yixing more.

He didn’t exactly get smashed; just inebriated enough to get a mild hangover the next day, apparently. He’s about to let himself sink deeper under the covers and maybe even fall back asleep when he remembers why he set an alarm in the first place.

He’s meeting Yixing in about an hour.

On any humdrum day, he’ll probably wash his face real quick without bothering at all with his hair, and then throw on the first shirt he sees before hobbling down to his sister’s house for breakfast if he’s feeling too lazy to make his own. But not today. Not on the first day of Tour Guide Duty.

Today, he hits the shower, actually thinks about it when he picks out a shirt (“Blue! Yixing hyung likes-wait, what the hell are you doing? This isn’t a date-”), brushes his teeth, and slicks his hair back the way he knows it looks good on him.

Throwing the coat that he’s been using for the past three days in the hamper, he takes out a black, hooded, faux leather jacket to wear over his gray shirt instead. He goes for an old pair of jeans so that it doesn’t look like he’s trying too hard and because it’s comfortable. Not loose enough to pass for baggy, but not too tight that it looks like it’s cutting off his circulation. Also because it fits nicely enough that it creates the illusion of an ass, even though he barely has any.

So basically he set that alarm an hour ahead just so that he can think this whole look through. He supposes it's worth it, though, because when he enters the main house through the back door in the kitchen, Yura pauses, surveys him from his head to his feet, then gives him the oddest look.

“What have you done to my brother?”

Chanyeol flashes a big grin.

“Good morning to you, too, noona! Are those burgers?” He goes to stand beside her to catch a whiff. He loves the smell of beef patty on the pan.

Yura pointedly ignores his question, probably assuming that it’s rhetorical, anyway. She flips one of the burgers on the skillet and then presses down lightly on the other two with a spatula.

“I almost forgot that you knew how to use a comb,” she quips. “What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need a specific occasion to make myself a little bit more presentable?”

“Yes,” Yura smirks. “And I wouldn’t call this-” she turns to point the spatula at him, dragging it up and down in a vertical line. “-just ‘a little bit more presentable’. I mean, relative to your usual self, a full one-eighty’s more like it. Do you want one of these?”

“No, thanks. I’m about to head out anyway. And, hey, I’m not that bad!” He pouts.

“Maybe not,” Yura chuckles. “But it’s pretty obvious that you made a great effort. Humor me.”

Chanyeol picks up a morsel of cheese that probably chipped off from the big block when his sister was cutting out thin slices to put on top of the patties.

“I’m showing the new guest around before the start of the opening ceremony this afternoon,” he says, nonchalantly.

At that, Yura sharply glances up at him with wide eyes. “You? At the festival?” A brow arcs up. “But you hate those things. And you’ve already met Yixing?”

Chanyeol tosses the cheese in his mouth. “Mhmm.” He chews. Slowly. As if it can get him out of elaborating.

Hate might be too strong a word. He just… thinks it’s a waste of precious time. It's not because the performances are terrible because they’re certainly not, and he understands why folks from out of town would be so interested. But for him, someone who has participated in it so many times growing up, it's hard not to be immune to the novelty of it all.

The thing about his older sister, though, is that she’s a little bit psychic sometimes.

Yura pins Chanyeol with a dubious look. He’s probably doing the mouth and eye thing that Yixing was talking about yesterday, because now she’s squinting at him like she knows he’s hiding something.

She looks like she has something to say, but what would have been a very early interrogation is intercepted by light tapping sounds on the glass door panel. The smile that appears on Chanyeol’s face is automatic when he sees Yixing waving at them from the other side of the door.

He turns to his sister and drops a quick kiss on top of her head.

“Gotta go,” he says, and then he’s out before Yura can try to stop him.

He doesn’t want to linger by the doorway and so he blurts a clipped, “Hi, hyung. Let’s go,” then makes a grab for Yixing’s hand. He tugs him along until they reach the gate. Only when they’re inside the car does he notice that Yixing is slightly out of breath. Chanyeol’s very long legs are made for very long strides, after all.

“Sorry for dragging you away like that,” he says, guiltily.

“No, it’s fine,” says Yixing as he snaps on his seatbelt. “Exercise in the morning is good for the health.”

Chanyeol barks out a laugh. “You make a good point, Doctor Zhang.”

“You look great, by the way,” Yixing tells him.

Chanyeol smiles, blushing a little, and decides that the extra hour he took away from his sleep that morning was definitely worth it.

“Look at that, spring is here.”

Chanyeol can hear the smile in Yixing’s voice even with his eyes locked on the road. True enough, he catches an array of vivid colors as he drives along his usual route, splashes of yellows and reds and violets amid the greens, and for a second he wonders how all these could have sprouted overnight. He doesn't remember seeing this yesterday. Then again perhaps he wouldn't have noticed it now either if Yixing hadn’t pointed it out. Maybe they’ve been there, budding, all this time and he just hadn't been paying attention.

The opening ceremonies don’t start until about six in the afternoon, and so instead of heading to Jungwon Rotary where the festivities take place every year, he takes Yixing out to the border, to the very gateway of Jinhae. He figures they could start from the beginning.

The sakura trees near the outskirts have yet to come to life, but he knows it won’t be long now. It’s a different story downtown, where some roads are already lined with pale pink flowers. The sunny weather of the past couple of days must have made it warm enough to help hurry it along. It’s perfect for a walk or a nice hike, which works in every tourist’s favor. If they’re down here for cherry blossom sightings, chances are they’re in for a lot of walking and hiking.

“So where to first?” Yixing asks around a big yawn. Chanyeol wants to pinch his cheek but that’s probably going to end up in a small scuffle, and that’s not very good driving etiquette.

Chanyeol makes a careful turn around a bend. “You'll see.”

He can feel Yixing watching him closely. It makes his stomach tangle in knots.

“You’re winging it, aren't you?” Yixing eyes him, accusingly. “I get mocked for not having a plan and yet-”

“Hey, I'm a local, born and bred - I'm perfectly allowed,” he argues with a haughty tilt of the chin.

“Fine,” Yixing huffs in forfeit and sinks back into the passenger seat. Chanyeol chuckles; he knows Yixing’s not really upset.

“You have to trust me, hyung,” he says, and this time he doesn’t even try to quell the compulsion to pinch the older man’s cheek.

Yixing yelps in surprise and bats his hand away, laughing.

“Stupid. Of course I trust you.”

Almost fifteen minutes in, they stop by a Dunkin’ Donuts just off the main road less than ten minutes away from Jangboksan park. It’s Yixing who brings up the subject of breakfast and apparently neither of them has had anything to eat before setting off.

“Why were you in such a hurry to leave, anyway?” Yixing asks as they settle into a table by the window. “We could have had breakfast with your sister and Yejun.”

Chanyeol swallows down a small chunk of ham and cheese croissant.

“I didn’t want to be put on the hotseat so early in the morning.” He takes a sip of hot capuccino and tries not to giggle when Yixing does a curious head-tilt that oddly reminds him of a cute, little bunny.

“Hotseat?”

“I mean, the fact that I’m voluntarily setting foot anywhere near the festival strikes her as odd-for good reason, I suppose,” Chanyeol explains with a light shrug. “She knows I’m not a huge fan. And she doesn’t know about our-” He catches himself, hesitates. His feet shuffle uneasily under the seat as he rephrases that in his head. “-she doesn’t know that we’ve met before.”

“Oh.”

Chanyeol waits for a denial or a dismissal, maybe a ‘but that was such a long time ago, it doesn’t matter now,’ but it never comes. Instead, Yixing looks at him quizzically and asks, “Will it be a problem if she did find out?”

“Well,” Chanyeol's lips pull into a thin line. “I mean, I guess not? My family knows that I’m… you know. We just never talk about it. It’s not really easy for them.”

Yixing feeds himself a bite of his sandwich. “Yeah, okay. I get it,” he says. “That means you don’t openly date guys here, then?”

Chanyeol can’t help but cough out a sardonic laugh. Openly date guys here. Hell would sooner freeze over.

“Things like that don’t really sit well with most people here. It’s a small, traditional town,” he says, volume dropping slightly. “I’m pretty sure they know about me, though. At the very least they probably think I’m bi - or that’s what they prefer to think. That I have some shred of ‘normalcy’ left in me, as far their standards go.”

“That’s why you wanted to leave here so bad,” Yixing muses aloud and Chanyeol shrugs.

“That, and also the fact that I had no future in music here,” he says, to which Yixing wordlessly nods in response.

They fall silent after that. Not exactly awkward; just filled with the weight of things not being said.

“You know,” Chanyeol clears his throat, heart suddenly heavy despite the casualness that he manages to infuse in his tone. “If it makes you uncomfortable being seen with me, I can just take you downtown, or we can call this whole thing off. No hard feelings, I swear.”

“Why would I want that?” Yixing looks him straight in the eye and the intensity of it makes Chanyeol’s pulse stall. He looks almost angry. “I wouldn’t have come here if not for you.”

“I just thought-” He’s abruptly cut off when Yixing reaches across the table and cups the side of his cheek. Chanyeol holds his breath as fingers lightly brush over a corner of his mouth, his skin prickling at the point of contact. He barely notices the tiny crumbs falling away.

“Listen,” Yixing says, and he almost doesn’t catch that too, what with his heartbeat suddenly roaring in his ears. But Yixing looks serious, contrite, as he holds his gaze steady. The slight tremble in his voice is the only thing that gives his nerves away. “It’s probably too late, and maybe it doesn’t matter to you now. But I really want to tell you that I’m sorry.”

Chanyeol swallows. He would coolly ask, “for what?” just to deliver a reaction. But he does know exactly what Yixing is talking about. He’s not really up to putting up a front. Not right now.

“I don’t want to give you any excuses; you don’t deserve that. I just want you to know that I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, carefully. As if he’s afraid of saying something wrong. Like he’s thought about this many times before.

Chanyeol leans back in his seat, his gaze dropping to the half-eaten croissant in front of him. He stabs at it with a fork, swallows around a small rock in his throat. What can he say? ‘It doesn’t matter’? That would be a lie.

“You were the first boy that I-” The words tumble out before he can stop them.

Yixing nods, shoulders sagging like they bear too much weight. “I know.”

Chanyeol can see the anguish and the remorse reflected in his eyes. It really doesn’t suit him, he thinks, and it makes him feel so uneasy knowing that he put it there.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath. Maybe in the back of his mind he’s always known that the apology was unnecessary. He lets the corners of his lips curl in a crooked grin and then he holds up a closed fist over the small table.

“Clean slate?”

The tension clouding Yixing’s features gradually clears-though it takes a few seconds because he’s always been a little bit slow to react. And then he grins at last, bright eyes curving into half moons.

He reaches over the table and bumps Chanyeol’s bony knuckles with his own.

“Okay.”

The crowd in Jangboksan park is not nearly as packed as Chanyeol expected, which is nothing short of a small miracle. Most of the locals are probably busy prepping for the opening ceremony. He knows that there is bound to be an influx of visitors throughout the day so it’s a good thing that he and Yixing were able to set off early.

They walk up along a hiking trail bordered by seemingly endless lines of cherry trees and pines. Yixing takes pictures at every turn - of sculptures, flower beds, trees, shadows on the ground, blobs of light that seep through the gaps between branches. Everything fascinates him. Sometimes Chanyeol wonders why because they’re just plants and wood and stones.

In his opinion, when you've seen one sakura tree, one palace-or any ancient Korean architecture, for that matter-you've seen them all. He doesn't understand what Yixing sees exactly. Sometimes he wishes he does. But for the most part he thinks it’s enough seeing the childlike awe in his eyes.

The opening ceremony is surprisingly... eventful, to say the least-mostly because of Yixing’s reactions to the performances of the choir and the naval military band. Chances are they probably have much bigger and grander festivals back in China, but that doesn't stop him from openly appreciating what Chanyeol’s hometown has to offer.

Yixing is not familiar with the music; Chanyeol doubts that he knows the traditional instruments that the performers are using either. But at some point he starts humming another layer of accompanying harmony under his breath, and Chanyeol just lowkey smiles beside him. He doesn’t call him on it or react at all because he doesn't want to interrupt; he just wants him to keep going.

The minute the ceremony is over, Chanyeol finds himself sprinting after Yixing when he eagerly scurries off to the side of the stage to take pictures with the baffled performers. Chanyeol would probably be embarrassed if the whole thing wasn’t terribly amusing.

They stroll down the side of the road as Yixing continues to photograph everything - from the flyers stuck on the lightposts to the couples wrapped snuggly around each other while walking. He takes plenty of Chanyeol’s pictures, too-a lot of which are of them together trying to out-dumb each other on camera. They’re probably making too much noise laughing their heads off, but neither of them really care.

They reach Yeojwacheon stream just as dusk falls. The entire stretch of it, flanked on both sides by cherry blossom trees, becomes alight with color as soon as the sun is gone. Bright lights in different shapes and colors hang from the branches and the wooden railings.

Yixing drags him down to the many food stalls that line the fringes of the stream. Chanyeol gets them both a corn dog and a can of grape Fanta each, while Yixing secures for them a wooden bench at a quieter side of the long road.

“You owe me another meal, on top of the ones you already do owe me for being your tour guide,” Chanyeol tells him sternly as he gingerly hands over the food before sinking into the bench.

Yixing’s brows furrows thoughtfully. He puts down his can of soda in the space between them.

“How many meals are we talking about exactly? I'm only here three more days.”

Chanyeol pauses. He feels a twinge in his gut as he lets that sink in for a second.

“Three days?” It’s strange how everything suddenly tastes like sand in his mouth. Has it really been a week now?

“Yes.” Yixing chews silently, not meeting his eyes. He’s staring ahead with a blank look; Chanyeol recognizes it as his Thinking Face. A part of him wants to know what’s on Yixing’s mind, but another part of him is saying, “what for? He'll be gone again in three days.”

Chanyeol takes a long drink of his soda.

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner,” he reconsiders that for a second. “Or breakfast and dinner. We’ll be out by noon so you you won’t be able to cook.”

“Packed lunch?” suggests the doctor.

“Will you have the time, though?”

Yixing finally turns to look at him with a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“I didn’t say I was going to do it alone,” he singsongs. “You can wash and slice stuff or something, and then I’ll cook. Teamwork.”

Chanyeol mulls this over for a bit. Or he pretends to, anyway. There’s only one foreseeable outcome to this, really.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Three meals, three days. That should cover it.”

Smiling, Yixing puts warm fingers against the back of Chanyeol’s neck in a gentle massage-as thanks, or maybe as a consolation, or whatever. Chanyeol lets him, all the while pretending that he’s not reeling from Yixing’s touch and the phantom trickling of an hour glass that’s quickly running out of sand.

The next morning, he goes to Yixing’s cottage instead of the main house for breakfast. He packs up their lunch while Yixing whips up a simple breakfast of veggie omelette beside him.

“What?” Yixing asks when Chanyeol giggles out of nowhere without even realizing it. He flushes lightly.

“This just feels so... domestic, what we’re doing. Feels like old times,” he confesses with an embarassed laugh.

Yixing doesn’t react for a good five seconds. Chanyeol glances to his side, worried that he might have said something wrong. His breath instantly catches when he finds Yixing watching him with a soft smile on his face.

“I missed you a lot, you know,” Yixing tells him, and he tries to remember to breathe. “Without you there was no one to cut up the peppers into ugly, uneven slices for me.”

Chanyeol squawks. “Excuse me, my pepper slices are exquisite,” he bites back indignantly. Although, yeah, he might have been a little less skilled in the kitchen back then. Or a lot less skilled.

Yixing throws his head back in a hearty laugh and it makes Chanyeol smile. The kind of smile that makes his eyes that much brighter; the kind that almost hurts his face and threatens to split it in half, and probably makes him look like a crazy person. Not the well-timed, calculated sort that he’s spent years perfecting to keep up an image. Somewhere along the way he’s forgotten the difference. But now he remembers.

Chanyeol pulls a face, cheeks turning a light shade of pink, when Yixing playfully tugs on his ear. He mutters something in Mandarin that Chanyeol manages to understand-and he flushes even more.

“So cute, my Cànliè.”

Chanyeol takes Yixing to the Eco Park and the man instantly falls in love with how peaceful the place is. They sit quietly by the small lake for about half an hour after Yixing is satisfied with all the photos that he’s taken. At some point, Chanyeol finds Yixing’s head on his shoulder and Yixing’s arm looped around his. They just stay like that for about ten minutes more and it doesn’t even occur to Chanyeol to complain about this intrusion on his personal space.

Around lunch time, he gets a few calls from his sister and from Baekhyun, asking if he’s still alive, what he’s been up to. Moonlighting as tour guide for free meals, he tells them, which isn’t exactly a lie.

Baekhyun just sniggers over the line, while his sister sighs and says, “Well, just. Just be careful, alright?” And he gets it. He knows what she means.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing, noona,” he reassures her, and that’s the end of that talk.

He gets a call from Jongdae, too-but that’s mostly just him whining about how he’s hella stressed and would Chanyeol please tell Sehun to stop hanging around the dance studio next door to flirt with the new assistant choreographer called Kim Jongin because they have a fucking deadline to meet?

“Ah, Jongdaeyah, let him be. Let the kid fall in love, maybe he’ll scowl less.”

Jongdae whistles and it’s like the sound of a dropping bomb. “Well, look at you, preaching about the transformative power of love,” he quips. “Don’t forget to use protection, okay? And lube. Always be prepared. Getting Laid 101.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, laughing. “You’re an ass.”

Jehwangsan park is their last stop for the day. Luckily, the queue for the cable car isn’t looking so bad, so they go for that option instead of climbing the 365 steps up to the tower. Yixing doesn’t take many pictures this time. He plants his arms on the railing, elbow right next to Chanyeol’s, and takes in the fresh air as it blows in strong gusts.

The view from the tower is one of a pale pink sea interspersed with a bunch of greens. The cherry blossoms are everywhere - around houses and buildings, along the roads - even as far as the foot of the long range of mountains in the distance. At that moment, Chanyeol sees the beauty of his hometown the way he hasn’t seen it in a long time. And all of a sudden he finds himself rapidly blinking away the moisture that has begun to spring in his eyes. If Yixing notices that his eyes are extra sparkly, he doesn’t mention it.

Chanyeol startles a bit when Yixing suddenly inches closer, reaching out an arm to hold him around the waist. He doesn’t resist, though. Instead, he leans into Yixing’s side when the man gently pulls him in.

“Your hometown is beautiful,” he says softly, earnestly. Like he knows exactly what’s on Chanyeol’s mind.

He doesn’t even bother to fight back the urge to plant a light kiss on Yixing’s temple as a ‘thank you’. Yixing looks up at him, surprised. But then the most beautiful smile blooms on his face and Chanyeol can’t help but return it.

“It is, right?”

But not as beautiful as you, he wants to add, because as cringe-worthy as it is, it’s not a lie.

They head back home before it gets too dark.

Chanyeol follows Yixing back to his cottage instead of heading to his own. He helps out with dinner and then he stays for a couple of drinks after. It’s almost tradition now.

They talk at length about music, about the slump that Chanyeol’s been in for far longer than he’s comfortable with, and it surprises him how he actually hasn’t thought about that since he met Yixing again.

“I think,” says the doctor while lifting his legs over the sofa. He drops them on Chanyeol’s lap, stretching across the cushion the way the taller man can’t because he’s just too long. Chanyeol bounces his knees just to be a brat, but somehow he ends up absently massaging the sides of Yixing’s calves through his pants.

“I think your friend Baekhyun is right. Don’t force it. If it’s not coming to you on its own, then maybe there’s something else you need to fix.”

“That’s what I’m trying to sort out. That’s why I’m here,” he nods, long fingers gently sliding down the firm muscles of Yixing’s lower legs. He hears the doctor sigh, so he does it again. “Okay, your turn. You said you were here to ‘recalibrate’... why?”

Yixing chews on his lower lip. He sits up, but doesn’t remove his legs from Chanyeol’s lap.

“I was set to join an oncology fellowship program after I finish my residency, but my mentor wasn’t sure I was doing it for the right reasons. I suppose it’s not enough for him that it was something I promised my mother I would do.” He sucks in a breath then blows it all back out as he heavily leans against the back rest. His shoulders slump like they’ve finally given out under the weight of years upon years of pressure-most of it he had brought upon himself, most likely-and Chanyeol fights the urge to pull the man against him and massage those tired shoulders too.

“But I get it,” says Yixing. “It’s a lifetime commitment. I need to be sure that it’s what I want to spend the rest of my days doing-dealing with terminal illness day in and day out.”

Chanyeol makes a sound of acknowledgment. “I know you went into this whole thing because you wanted to help people-you wanted to make a difference-and you’re already doing that. If you want to do more, there are other ways.”

Yixing squints his eyes at him, teasingly. “Like put up a charity? Volunteer?”

Chanyeol’s cheeks color slightly hearing his teenager version’s words being echoed back to him. Still, he addresses the doctor with a haughty jut of the chin and contends, “Why yes, Dr. Smartass. Those are still very legit options, thank you very much.”

Yixing vibrates when he laughs and Chanyeol finds it oddly comforting.

“Maybe,” he admits. “It’s still not the same, though.”

Chanyeol expected to hear something that. There’s still no knocking down Yixing’s principles, his priorities in life. God knows he’d tried to squeeze into that rock-solid wall once; tried to make a tiny dent, a tiny room for himself. That didn’t work out so well, obviously. Maybe if this were a year ago, when he still had some of that fight in him, he’d have tried again. But now...

“Yeah,” Chanyeol concedes with a sigh. “You're probably right.”

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