Fifth Frame

Not Just Fair-weather Friends

After their last date, Yifan is half afraid that Junmyeon won’t want to go out with him again, even though he knows it’s not true.

“You’re such a worrywart,” Chanyeol laughs, passing by Yifan’s desk on the way to the printer. “He’s not going out with you because the food was good or the weather was nice.”

Yifan tries to feel better about that, fingers clacking over the keyboard, but he keeps getting glimpses of Junmyeon’s wet face, water dripping from his bangs, brown hair completely black and plastered to his forehead. When he looks back at the email to the client, it’s full of trailing sentences and typos that devolve into gibberish.

He sighs in defeat, letting his hands fall to hang at his sides as he lets his forehead drop onto the keyboard with a dull thud. Something pings, and Yifan knows that an error message has probably popped up. He doesn't even care at this point.

“Seriously.” Chanyeol sounds like he’s trying to hold back a laugh, and Yifan grimaces into the keys that are currently jabbing into his face. Keyboards aren’t very good pillows, apparently.

“He hasn’t messaged me since I dropped him off at home,” Yifan mumbles into the keys. Another error message pings and he ignores it.

“That was yesterday,” Chanyeol says, probably rolling his eyes but Yifan doesn’t look up. The F key on the keyboard is suddenly incredibly interesting. There’s a pause, and then Yifan feels the warm weight of Chanyeol’s hand on his shoulder. “Didn’t he say he was going to be busy with that big book project?”

Yifan sighs, taking a deep breath and nods, finally straightening in his chair. “He needs to sleep more,” he says. Chanyeol laughs.

“Just message your boyfriend already,” he says, and steps back into the corridor. Yifan listens to his footsteps receding along the carpet, the sound muffled, as he turns Chanyeol’s words over and over in his head.

“Boyfriend,” he says quietly, testing the word out. It sounds strange on his tongue, the shape new in his mouth, but it feels right. He just doesn’t know if Junmyeon would agree. After all they haven’t talked about it yet.

His stomach twists when he thinks of saying the word and having Junmyeon look at him blankly, or worse yet, with a frown and a denial on his tongue. "You’re dating," he tells himself, his reflection muffled in the black of the monitor in front of him; his computer has already gone to sleep amidst his personal crisis. Yifan thinks about Junmyeon’s hesitance in meeting him, and realizes that this might be how he'd felt.

Yifan doesn’t want to say it, in case Junmyeon disagrees. He ignores Chanyeol’s advice, even though he knows it’s a cowardly thing to do—but hey, a guy’s allowed to have some doubts—and turns back to his computer.

 

 

Yifan brings his work home with him, sorting fabric swatches for a new client who’s convinced that having a chesterfield would somehow be a terrible reflection on her personality. He loves the designing part, but sometimes working with the clients makes him feel like he’s underqualified to be their counsellor. His phone stays quiet in his pocket, no chimes or the vibration of an incoming message, and Yifan tries to pretend that he's too busy to message Junmyeon first.

“You’ve changed your mind about the colour scheme?” he echoes a particularly difficult client, after finally getting off Skype with the chesterfield client, who’s decided to go for mid-century modern.

“I read on a blog that mint is the new black,” the client says enthusiastically, and Yifan can feel a headache forming behind his eyes. He reaches for his coffee cup, but when he brings it to his mouth, it’s empty.

“Do you like mint?” he asks instead, pinching the bridge of his nose and staring blankly at his screen.

“No,” the client says, sounding all too cheerful to be spouting something so completely illogical, and Yifan fights the urge to slam his face into the keyboard again. Swallowing down his frustration, he tries to think of an answer that will guide the client in a more constructive direction, but he’s drawing a blank.

Just then his phone vibrates against his leg; Yifan scrambles to answer it and apologizes to the client in a rush of reassurances while trying not to sound too relieved.

It's not Junmyeon though, when he swipes his thumb across the screen to take the call. Yifan considers rejecting it but his finger is too fast and he can already hear the muted sound of Chanyeol's voice through the speaker before he finally lifts it to his ear.

“So let me guess,” Chanyeol says, and Yifan winces prematurely. “You’re sitting at home at your laptop, pretending to get things done and avoiding your phone while desperately hoping Junmyeon will call but telling yourself that you’re not.” He takes a breath, and Yifan opens his mouth to— “So am I right, or am I right?” Chanyeol concludes and Yifan closes his mouth again in a long exhale.

“Just call him already,” Chanyeol says, before hanging up. Yifan is left staring at his phone, practically speechless at the fact that Park Chanyeol just literally hung up on him.

Out of spite, he goes back to his email, just to make a personal point, but Chanyeol is unfortunately right and his mind isn't on his work at all. Soon enough, Yifan is powering the computer down, leaving his phone on the desk as he grabs his cup and heads for the kitchen and his coffee maker.

It’s just his luck that the phone buzzes on the desk when he’s in the middle of pouring hot water into the French press, and hot water goes splashing across the floor as he jerks up, startled. Luckily though, he’s managed to avoid his bare feet, and since it’s probably just Chanyeol anyway, he mops up the floor before heading back to his desk, steaming cup in hand. That’s when he sees the name on the screen with the missed call notification.

Yifan sets the coffee down on the table and calls Junmyeon back before he loses his nerve.

“Junmyeon?” he asks, as soon as the call connects, even though the chances of it not being him are slim to none.

“Yifan!” Junmyeon’s voice is happy and Yifan feels his shoulders relax at the sound; Junmyeon doesn’t sound mad about last time, so he’s relieved, and yet he’s not sure what to say about it. But before he can think of the right words, Junmyeon is talking.

“The weather is supposed to be really nice this weekend,” Junmyeon says, voice bright, “I know the cherry trees have already blossomed, but I heard that the apples will be blossoming and I think we should have a picnic.”

“A picnic?” Yifan stands there, beside his desk, and blinks. “After what happened last time?”

“Last time?” Junmyeon pauses, and Yifan can picture his expression so clearly by the tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” he says, “with the boat tipping over and the soggy food.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon says. “But we had fun anyway, didn’t we?” He sounds slightly hesitant, and Yifan feels bad for making him sound that way.”

“I had fun because I was with you,” he says, and it’s true. “I’ll plan a much better picnic for this weekend, okay?” All of a sudden, his mind is running with ideas and he's not tired at all.

“Okay!” Junmyeon says. “I can’t wait to see you. It’s been so busy and . . . yeah . . .” His voice trails off and Yifan just wants to reach through the phone and tuck Junmyeon into bed, but he can’t, so instead he hums and says goodnight, ending the call with a fond smile on his face.

 

 

The weather on Saturday is perfect, and Yifan sighs internally in relief as he grabs his bag and keys and takes the elevator down to his car. Fresh jeans, crisp shirt, wayfarers tucked up on his hair, not styled up today but soft, the way Junmyeon won’t admit he likes it. Yifan smiles at his reflection in the rear-view mirror, and pictures Junmyeon secretly ruffling his fingers through his soft hair.

Junmyeon is waiting in the lobby, wrists tucked up in a fuzzy blue sweater and Yifan notes the puffy skin beneath his eyes when he leans over to press a soft kiss to Junmyeon’s mouth.

“You haven’t been sleeping enough,” he says, as Junmyeon climbs into the passenger seat, curling his legs up to sit cross-legged on the seat as he buckles his seatbelt.

“I told you I was going to be busy,” Junmyeon says, side-stepping the question; Yifan shakes his head but the gesture is more affectionate than exasperated and Junmyeon grins.

Yifan reaches over the gap between their seats to hold Junmyeon’s hand, the gentle weight somehow incredibly reassuring as they drive through the city.



“Where’s the picnic basket?” Junmyeon asks, stepping out of the car only to glance around after Yifan doesn’t head to the trunk.

“I’m not leaving it up to the weather today,” Yifan says, glaring up at the sky, blue scattered with puffy white clouds. Junmyeon laughs, as though soggy sandwiches had been no big deal, as though being dumped over into cold water had been refreshing, and reaches for Yifan’s arm. Yifan snuggles him into his side in his fluffy blue sweater, that familiar warm glow filling his chest when he thinks about how well Junmyeon fits like this, tucked beneath his arm.

“So, what's the plan?” Junmyeon asks, looking around: the contrast of his dark hair against the pale pink and white apple blossoms is stunning and Yifan blinks for a moment, distracted until Junmyeon nudges him in the ribs with an elbow.

“I thought we could get coffee from the pavilion and then sit on a bench?” Yifan says. It turns into a question, because he’s not quite sure all of a sudden—what had seemed like a safe date now feels remarkably dull, like his design sense has hit a snag and he’s not understanding the client's demands. He’s just about to tell Junmyeon to forget it, that they’ll go off and do something more exciting, but Junmyeon hums, fingers tangled up with Yifan’s, the soft cuff of his sweater brushing the soft skin of his wrist, and pulls him along.

“I like your plan,” Junmyeon says, “except I think I’ll get hot chocolate instead. Is that allowed?” His eyes wrinkle in amusement as he looks up at Yifan, and Yifan nods, allowing himself to lightly squeeze Junmyeon’s hand, just because he needs to.

 

 

Junmyeon’s hot chocolate smells rich and sweet, and Yifan might have stolen a sip when Junmyeon wasn’t looking, but Junmyeon only grins at him with a knowing expression and steals a sip of americano back, then promptly makes a grimace at the taste.

“Bleh,” Junmyeon says, “I don’t know how you can stand to drink that bitter stuff.” He’s still grinning though, and Yifan kicks him affectionately on the leg before taking his own sip.

There are other people wandering around the park, families with small children and couples walking hand in hand along the paths beneath the trees. Yifan smiles, Junmyeon’s head resting on his shoulder.

“Look at all the couples,” Junmyeon says, and his tone is strange, as though he wants to say something but isn’t quite sure if he actually wants to say it. Yifan remembers his conversation with Chanyeol at the beginning of the week.

“Your boyfriend,” Chanyeol had said, and Yifan had realized that they’ve never really discussed it, never really said the words.

But they’re dating, aren’t they? That means they’re boyfriends, right? Junmyeon, leaning against his shoulder, is no longer soft and relaxed but rather tense. Yifan glances down but he’s looking away, off into the park, and he can’t catch Junmyeon’s eye.

I should just say it, he thinks. I should just say it, once and for all.

Wrapping his fingers more securely around Junmyeon’s shoulder, Yifan opens his mouth to—

There’s a rustling from the shrubbery behind the bench they’re sitting on, and Yifan jumps, spinning around to look—

“Do you think it’s a bear?” Junmyeon asks, and Yifan isn’t sure if he’s joking or serious but he really does not want to meet a bear in the park on a date that was supposed to be foolproof.

The rustling intensifies, along with Yifan’s grasp on Junmyeon’s shoulder; just when he’s about to snap, scooping Junmyeon up and making a break for safety, a small brown thing tumbles out of the bushes, emerging in a pile of snapped twigs and pussywillow catkins.

Yifan is just staring at the small creature, blinking and trying to focus, when Junmyeon says in a bemused tone, “Totoro?”

Yifan doesn’t have any idea what or who that name refers to at all; the rustling has started up again and if a totoro-thing is anything like a bear cub, then that means that there must be a bear mama lurking in the bushes just behind it and—

“Si Cheng!” a voice calls from the bushes, just before a decidedly-unbearlike figure emerges from the greenery, brushing the branches away with her arms.

“Yang Mi?” Yifan says, the words slipping out of his mouth before his brain catches up, just as the small brown thing on the ground uncurls and resolves into a small boy wearing what looks like some kind of anime-inspired costume.

“I’m Totoro!” the small boy, Si Cheng Yifan guesses, says, before commencing to jump up and down and wave his arms, flapping up a small wind.

“Yes, yes,” Yang Mi says, reaching over to scoop him up by the waist.

“Yang Mi?” Junmyeon’s voice sounds puzzled, his fingers dropping away from Yifan’s arm. He tries to picture it from Junmyeon’s perspective; how strange this tableau must be. He’s never spoken about Yang Mi at all.

“Um,” Yifan starts, then pauses, not sure what to say first, where to start.

“Hello,” Yang Mi says, making the decision for Yifan as she holds out a hand to Junmyeon, Si Cheng still tucked beneath her arm. “I’m Yang Mi, Yifan’s cousin.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon says. Yifan can see his face brightening again and could kick himself for not having prevented the confusion. “I’m Junmyeon,” Junmyeon continues, and meets Yang Mi’s hand in a handshake. Si Cheng squawks and somehow manages to twist out of Yang Mi’s grasp, launching himself at Junmyeon who catches him out of reflex.

“And this is Si Cheng, my son,” Yang Mi laughs, reaching over to brush catkins and bits of broken twigs off the brown fur of his costume.

“I’m Totoro!” Si Cheng protests loudly, squirming away from his mother and nuzzling deeper into Junmyeon’s arms; Yifan has to smile at the both surprised and yet intensely gratified expression on Junmyeon’s face.

This would be a good time, Yifan thinks, turning back to glance at Yang Mi when he feels a raindrop on his cheek.

“It’s raining!” Si Cheng announces, laughing and spreading his arms as though to orchestrate the coming of the rain, before the heavens open and it begins to rain.

“Quick!” Junmyeon says, Si Cheng still in his arms, as he starts running for the parking lot.

“Rain! Rain!” Si Cheng shouts in his arms, as Yifan gestures to Yang Mi and starts running after Junmyeon, hand shielding his face from the rain.

“I can’t believe it’s raining again,” he says, partly to himself, but Yang Mi nods, catching up as she leaps over a puddle.

“We took the bus,” she says, laughing at Yifan’s expression as he pictures Si Cheng bouncing around.

Junmyeon reaches the parking lot first, and Yifan fumbles in his pockets for his keys as he runs, managing to unlock the doors in time for Junmyeon to scramble into the backseat.

Si Cheng makes a disgruntled noise, complaining at leaving the excitement of the rain until Yang Mi slides through the other door and pokes his nose.

“This is the cat bus,” she says, and Si Cheng is all of a sudden bubbly and excited, as Junmyeon laughs.

“He’s on a Totoro kick?” he asks, and Yang Mi nods, smothering a laugh with the back of her hand. Yifan, alone in the front, feels oddly left out.

“Is it okay if we go to dinner?” he asks, partly to Yang Mi, and partly to Junmyeon, to whom he directs an apologetic expression.

“Don’t let us interrupt anything though,” Yang Mi is quick to say, pulling a handkerchief out of her bag to dab at Si Cheng’s nose. “You were on a date.” She's busy with a squirming Si Cheng on the seat beside her and misses Junmyeon’s expression, the way his cheeks flush and he bites his lip.

Yifan makes up his mind.

“I don’t mind,” he says, and takes a breath before adding, “and I’m sure my boyfriend won’t mind either.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the back seat, covered up by Si Cheng loudly protesting about the ignominy of having his nose wiped, and only Yifan meets Junmyeon’s eyes.

Junmyeon is smiling, his eyes shining, and Yifan doesn’t know why he hasn’t said it before. Now they’re separated by the back of his seat and Yang Mi’s presence when all Yifan wants to do is crawl over to Junmyeon and swallow him up in a kiss.

He makes a silent promise instead as he holds Junmyeon’s gaze for a moment more before turning away, biting his bottom lip as he turns the key in the ignition.

“I’m okay with it,” Junmyeon says, as Si Cheng settles into a sulk on his lap, Yang Mi sighing, and only Yifan can hear the fact that he's slightly breathless.

“You two are so adorable,” Yang Mi says when they climb out of the car, Si Cheng demanding to tumble out onto the asphalt himself, and Yifan realizes that she’s probably noticed everything after all. Reaching for Junmyeon’s hand though, and pressing a quick kiss just behind his ear, just to hear his breath stutter, Yifan can’t find it in himself to be bothered about it.

“My boyfriend is adorable,” he says, squeezing Junmyeon’s hand, and he means it.