Ninth Frame
Tell Me
(And I'll Listen)
Friday night.
It’s supposed to be their typical ‘sitting on the couch watching movies on TV while eating takeouts’ night but Yifan suggested that they should be doing something a little more physical and intimate. And also had to be done on a more horizontal surface.
The coffee table is proven to be just the perfect place for it to happen.
Yifan pushes his tapered finger in. There is a bit of resistance going on, but he shall not rush. Bit by bit, his fingernail disappears from the sight. Instead a projection comes out from the other side, in which Yifan utilises his other hand to secure the projection between his fingers. He takes out his finger from the hole with extra care, bracing his then free hand on the table, before securing the jutted end between his fingers.
He pulls, and it comes out.
“YES!!! I GOT IT!”
Yifan gives a slow clap for himself, obviously because Junmyeon won’t be the one doing it. His boyfriend’s competitive streak had finally emerged from its dormant state. Yifan doesn’t even know that Junmyeon had that quality in him at first, but he has surprised Yifan on more than one occasion.
Full of surprises, Kim Junmyeon is.
Yifan puts up the green-coloured wooden block at his eye level. Sure, he could have obtained the ‘neutral’ piece or the red ‘dare’ piece right beside it. But the green block was right in the middle; it’s a safe choice. Hence the ‘truth’ piece in his hand.
Well, he is not sure if he wants to know about this one.
“Let’s see . . . .When was the last time you shaved your legs?”
Yifan flinches on his seat, avoiding Junmyeon from spraying his drinks all over him. He cracks up at his boyfriend who is trying his best to contain the liquid in his small mouth before he himself rushes to the television cabinet to grab a box of tissue and gives some to the smaller guy.
Junmyeon takes the tissues with his left hand as his right one is busy covering his nearly leaking mouth. Not to be a jerk, Yifan tries his best to stop the remaining laughter bubbling in his throat but somehow in the middle of it they meet each other’s eyes, causing another round of laughter erupting in the room.
“Wha—what kind of question is that?”
“Hey,” Yifan points to the block of Jenga he has pulled out just now. “I just read what’s written here, okay.”
Yifan watches Junmyeon shaking his head in disbelief before throwing a pleading look towards him. He looks cute; puppy eyes and all.
But a game is still a game. Junmyeon is not the only competitive one here.
“Okay,” Junmyeon seems to have come to terms that Yifan won’t give in to him despite the ridiculous nature of the question. “I never have to shave my legs. Because I . . . simply don’t have any leg hair.”
Yifan doesn’t hide his surprise at Junmyeon’s answer. “Oh, so you were just naturally hairless there? And here I am, thinking that you were extra prepared before our first—”
Junmyeon whines out loud so that Yifan wouldn’t finish his sentence but the taller one keeps on going. At one point Junmyeon must have thought that he can only resort to violence to shut his boyfriend’s mouth so he launches an attack towards Yifan’s unguarded shoulder. Yifan wants to poke at his boyfriend more but it is starting to hurt—those punches are not of a small rabbit’s—so he uses his large hands to catch Junmyeon’s rapid fist assault and promises not to mention it again.
Junmyeon seems determined to get the green block at the bottom of the tower; his lips protruding due to total concentration as his fingers carefully push the block out and away from the stack.
Once the difficult wooden piece is successfully removed from the tower, Junmyeon whoops in Yifan’s face, almost forgetting that the tower is still vulnerable to fall. Yifan leans his back against the sofa, lips curling up as he watches for a few more seconds of Junmyeon’s moment of glory before urging his boyfriend to just read the goddamn question. Junmyeon sticks out his tongue in retort, then proceeds with the question on his hard-earned block.
“The question is . . . How many relationships have you had?”
Shit. Yifan had forgotten that this question exists in the pile, and Junmyeon just had to pick that one.
“Uh . . . Relationships?” Yifan’s hand comes up spontaneously to his nape to rub an imaginary sore spot there, eyes shifting to a billboard outside his apartment window.
“It’s not that . . . exciting to hear. Might as well take another round, get a ‘dare’, yeah?” Yifan forces out a chuckle for a moment, not letting silence to fall between them.
Yifan notices his boyfriend fiddling with the green block with his smaller fingers. The playful grin on his face just now is long gone, replaced with a tight-lipped smile.
Damn it.
“I . . . ah . . . I’ve dated four times, if you really want to know. One time in high school, two in college, after that . . . ” his eyebrows furrowing as his brain works to find a better word to describe the nature of his last relationship, however it fails him greatly; so he just finishes with a nonchalant shrug.
“Seems like you have a lot going on between you and your last ex,” Junmyeon states, a bit flatly. He has an absent smile on his face; his hands are off the table now for they are wrapped around his folded knees, keeping near to his chest.
Now is a good time for damage control, he decides.
“I won’t call it dating though. More of like . . . .” Yifan waves his giant hand in lazy circular motion, trying to make a point. “An experiment? Yeah, just experiment.”
There was a brief moment of surprise flashing on the smaller male’s face before it changes back to its previous expression.
“If the last one was an experiment . . . How do you know that the next one is not?”
Yifan’s immediate reaction for the question is to laugh; it sounds funny to his ears because never in his mind did he place Junmyeon as a subject material under the file of ‘Wu Yifan: Straight or Bent? A Retrospective Study’. It was already concluded that Wu Yifan is nowhere near straight so to hear Junmyeon questioning this matter, as if he never did it to himself, is in fact quite funny.
Though Junmyeon definitely doesn’t share the same sentiment with him. The smaller male’s expression grows darker by the second and he looks like he is ready to bolt out of the door any moment, which is not how Yifan plans the night to end.
Time to execute Damage Control: Plan B.
He pushes himself up from the carpet and takes a few steps around the coffee table, groaning Junmyeon’s name as he descends and parks himself right beside his smaller partner. The latter’s lack of response encourages Yifan to grab one of Junmyeon’s hands and keeps it in between his much larger ones, warming it up.
“If only you know,” Yifan takes the small hand and places it against his cheek.
“That out of all my relationships,” his lips catches the edge of the smaller palm and he leaves a kiss there. He closes his eyes when he takes a much deeper breath, taking in the scent that belongs to only Junmyeon.
“You’re the first that I never hesitate.”
When he opens his eyes again, there's a glisten surfacing on Junmyeon’s round orbs. The latter seems to notice that the taller male is staring into his windows of soul so he diverts his eyes downwards.
Yifan puts down the hand that had been on his face onto the carpet, giving some time for his boyfriend. From here, it depends on Junmyeon to accept his answer or not.
“Tell me.”
Junmyeon’s voice sounds croaked that Yifan didn’t catch it the first time around.
“Tell me, and I’ll listen.”
Ever since that Revelation, his boyfriend seems to be willing to share more with him. Yifan will get messages at random hours of the day to see Junmyeon sending pictures to him; sometimes some quotes from the books that he finds interesting (“Don't you have a deadline to catch?” “😫😫😫”) or of him contemplating on which clothes to wear on their next date (“You’re gonna take them off anyway” “😑”).
Their conversations don't revolve around television shows anymore. It used to be their main topic—Junmyeon recommending movies or TV series to watch and Yifan agreeing to everything—but now they can talk about food, pet, sports; anything mundane. Even just now they were arguing about the best canned sardines in the market even though none of them liked to eat that.
Junmyeon is opening himself up to Yifan, and he couldn’t be happier.
“So how did you get these tickets again?” Yifan reaches out for the bucket of popcorn on his boyfriend’s lap while keeping his voice to minimum.
They are currently in a sparsely filled cinema, watching the midnight screening of the newly released The Little Prince in 3D. Not a very ideal time for a date considering that the next day is still a work day. This however is the first time ever Junmyeon personally asked him out, and Yifan is more than ecstatic to spend some time with his boyfriend.
“Got ‘em from my boss. Connections,” Junmyeon shrugs at the last word. The action causes his bangs to fall over his eyes.
Yifan takes notice of that. He reaches over once again, making Junmyeon seem to be a little confused because the taller male is not going towards the popcorn bucket. Instead it goes upwards to tidy up the fallen strands, making sure that the covered forehead is now properly exposed.
“Open the curtains, yeah? Let some light in.”
Junmyeon is still looking towards him when he puts down his hand.
“Do you think I’ll look better if I cut my hair?” Junmyeon asks with earnest.
“You look good every time, my dear. Though a little trim and some styling would do you better.”
Yifan pauses for a while before he adds, “Maybe you should dye it too, if you want. Something . . . bright. Gray maybe? It would look really nice against your fair skin, don't you think?”
Junmyeon snickers at him. “For someone who doesn't mind, you sure do have a lot of opinion.”
Yifan is about to retaliate his boyfriend’s sharp remarks when Junmyeon adds, “But I like it. Tell me more.”
Yifan just takes some popcorn and feeds the tiny boyfriend of his.
“You cried so hard just now,” Junmyeon teases him as they are walking towards the smaller male’s apartment complex.
Yifan tsk-es at his boyfriend and replies, “As if you didn't.”
“Yeah but not as much as you.”
“We both cried. Period.”
The sound of Junmyeon’s ringing laughter is like a rush of summer air, warming up the cold air brushing through his nape.
“You know,” Yifan starts, a thought suddenly comes to mind. “I used to wonder why the little prince fell in love with a rose. I mean, it’s a flower. Totally different species. That wouldn't end good, right?”
Junmyeon hums as a sign of him listening.
“Younger me didn't understand what the rose actually meant, obviously.”
There is a row of raised ledges on the sidewalk and Junmyeon steps onto it, footing on the narrow cement easily.
“So now you understand?” Junmyeon asks. His hands are spread out to balance his lithe body against the cold wind.
Yifan answers like it was a matter of fact, “Of course I do.”
Somehow there is a sudden gush of wind blowing towards them and Junmyeon loses his footing. Yifan catches his boyfriend’s arm on reflex then chides him like he would to a child for not being careful. Luckily the ledge is not that high or Junmyeon would have sprained his ankles.
A pout (a.k.a. Lethal Weapon #2—right after Sparkly, Puss in the Boots Eyes) makes its way on Junmyeon’s face. Yifan teases the other by reminding him of how he used to scold the taller male for not being careful on the street before but he stops before Junmyeon gets really upset. He wraps his long arm around the smaller male’s waist to console the latter and continues walking like that.
“I have one with me right now,” says Yifan. The entrance of Junmyeon’s apartment complex is already in sight.
“You have what?” Junmyeon asks. Their steps are getting slower as they are getting nearer to their destination.
“A rose,” answers Yifan. He pulls Junmyeon so the smaller male was right in front of him then he drapes his long arms around his boyfriend’s chest.
The position makes it easier to put his lips next to his boyfriend’s ear. “See? I’m holding my own rose right now.”
Yifan can't really see what kind of expression Junmyeon has on his face, but a soft squeeze on his arm convinces him that Junmyeon is indeed happy to hear that from him.
The time is now 1 in the morning. Yifan has just arrived home after a compulsory company gathering. The smell of alcohol and smoke lingers in every fiber of his clothes to every strand of his hair. Yifan hates the smell a lot; he hastily proceeds to the bathroom and takes off every single article on his body then he gets under the steamy hot shower.
His phone suddenly comes alive with the beat of a cheerful acoustic guitar. Yifan rushes out of his bathroom with his hair still damp and a towel around his waist to rush to his phone near the table lamp to receive the call.
Junmyeon’s face fills the screen. He looks like a kid right now with only his face visible; his head covered by a grey hoodie, fastened properly with strings tied in a bow.
Yifan greets his boyfriend as he walks towards the bathroom again to grab a bathrobe hanging behind the door. Junmyeon asks him why he took a shower so late at night in which he answers that their company had won a tender so they had a company dinner.
Junmyeon makes a monotone hum. Seems that he wants to say something but he’s been holding back. Yifan wonders what exactly that Junmyeon wants to ask.
“Yifan-ah, remember what you said to me yesterday? About me being your . . . rose. Do you . . . ” His gaze wavers for a moment.
“Do you really mean it?”
Oh. So he wants to know about that. Yifan sighs in relief.
“Of course I do. Why? You don't trust me?”
The smaller male shakes his head; the tied strings move together as he does that.
“I just want to know,” Junmyeon says.
After that they talk briefly about their days when Yifan notices how Junmyeon’s eyes keep drifting away. He figures that his boyfriend is getting sleepy.
Yifan bids his boyfriend goodnight and sweet dreams. He doesn't hear Junmyeon saying the same to him.
Yifan checks his phone. No new message from Junmyeon.
He checks it again.
And again.
New message comes in but not from Junmyeon.
Yifan deflates at that.
“Dude,” Yixing, his colleague that sits right across his workspace, calls him.
“You look distracted. Are you okay?”
Yixing is well known in the office for being the one that takes care of everyone; the mother hen of the staff.
“Nah. I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
With that Yixing walks away but not before he gives a concerned look at his colleague. Yifan glances at his phone again and realizes that he is getting a bit too hopeful for Junmyeon to be constantly updating him about everything.
He is now at work. He should focus on his duty.
He silences his phone then opens the top drawer where he keeps his supply of sweets and places it inside, not noticing some messages coming in thirty minutes later.
[ My J ] sent 08:34
“C'est le temps que tu a perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante.”
"It is the time you wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important
Maybe you should not have spend your time so much on it.
14 unanswered messages and 21 rejected calls later, Yifan finds himself standing in front of his boyfriend’s apartment.
The sun is hot against his black, clothed back. He can feel his nape getting baked by the midday sun and the pulse at his temples throbbing wildly but he pays no heed to that for he has another, more important thing in mind right now.
One more time, he tells himself when he taps on the green phone icon. He puts his ear next to door, trying to pick up any sound through it. As expected he hears a rather soft tune coming from inside for a few seconds. The tune stops playing the same time as a red icon call icon pops onto Yifan’s phone screen.
It takes no genius to know that Junmyeon is avoiding him.
For what reason, though? Junmyeon has never acted like this; not even when he had to proofread 300 pages of literature work within two weeks. Yifan wants to give his boyfriend the benefit of the doubt but judging from the way Junmyeon dismissed his calls, he knows for sure that whatever is happening right now is not work-related.
Yifan taps away on his phone, sending a message to notify the person inside the apartment that he is in fact outside the door and they should have a talk, right there and then.
“Junmyeon,” he calls for his boyfriend, each time louder, harsher than before, while his finger pushes the doorbell.
“I know you’re in there. Please just . . . ” his finger movement is turning more rapid by now.
“Just open the goddamn door!”
His clenched fist stops milliseconds before it hits the hard vertical surface. Even in his agitated state he knows that banging onto his boyfriend’s door will not make the other more compliant. His brain now demands for more oxygen to function—his chest heaves, struggling to catch some breath. The rush of air passing through his throat makes an ugly rasping sound.
“Let’s . . . talk . . . ” He tries to swallow in between his breathless words but his head is spinning right now and he can’t stand still. His now opened, shaken palm makes contact with the door first before the rest of his body follows.
The loud sound of blood rushing in his ears unables him to hear the ‘click’ coming from the other side. His eyelids are getting heavier; legs too, succumbing to the pull of gravity.
The coldness of the metal door against his bare cheek is now replaced with something warm and soft.
Suddenly, it's dark.
Cold. That is what he feels right now—at least his forehead is.
There is faint light behind his eyelids; he hasn’t bothered to open them since he woke up. The coolness on his forehead is still there, on and off, right to left. There’s water pooling in the inner corners of his eyes by now and it is seeping through his eyelids.
Yifan clenches the muscles around his eyes once to get rid of the pooling water before he opens his eyes.
The very person that refused to see him all day is now hovering over him, holding something cold on his forehead. Junmyeon undoubtedly notices him waking up, judging from the rapidness of him retracting his hand from Yifan’s face.
He acts faster than his brain; he grabs the retreating hand and holds it fast. Junmyeon is struggling to free his wrist but Yifan is not planning to let go; not this time.
His grip slowly loses its force when his brain finally registers the view in front of him. The strands atop of Junmyeon’s head is now no longer jet black—Yifan can’t properly decide the colour he is seeing under the dim afternoon ray.
Probably only noticing his own uncovered head, Junmyeon grabs the fallen hood on his back in a hurry and hides his newly dyed hair. He turns his back towards the other, getting ready to bolt and hide somewhere.
“WAIT!” Yifan shouts, making the smaller male flinch and halt in his spot. He pushes himself from the sofa to get on his feet though he chooses to keep a distance between them.
“What’s goin—Why—” His hands come up to his face and he takes a big breath, exhaling as his hands go up to push back his hair from plastering against his damp, cold forehead.
“Why are you acting like this?” His voice comes out desperate, mirroring his emotion that he has held from the moment he saw Junmyeon’s last message.
“That quote you sent me—rose and shit. And your hair? What are you trying to . . . .”
And then it clicks, like gears in a key to a doorknob turning inside his head.
“You want to break up,” Yifan states, no longer asking questions.
A little, no, a large part of him tells him that that is not what Junmyeon wanted. They had been so good together so why the break up now?
“That's right.”
Yifan’s heart drops from his chest.
“I am breaking up with you.”
It’s coming again. That bubbling laughter in his throat. It’s not funny. Goddamnit, nothing is funny about this. But it is ridiculous enough to make Yifan want to laugh.
“So you're telling me, after doing so well, that you want to put a stop to this.”
He is laughing right now, he thinks. But the wet, warm sensation running free on his face tells a different story.
“You’re unbelievable, Kim Junmyeon.”
Yifan briefly hears a gasp before Junmyeon pivots on his feet, facing the taller male head on. His eyes rimmed red and his nostrils are flaring, another expression of him Yifan haven't seen.
“You said I’m a fucking rose!” Junmyeon shouts at him, eyes kept shut as he does so.
The echo carries the last word bouncing from wall to wall.
When Junmyeon cries, Yifan observes through his own glistening eyes; he looks like he is smiling. His cheeks go up and most of his teeth are visible. His eyes now disappear; fresh droplets of tears streak across his elevated cheeks. The tip of his nose is now tinted with red, still flaring.
Apparently when his brain is busy mapping the features of his crying boyfriend, his legs are making their own command. He is now only a feet away from the smaller male, his shadow covering the other’s tiny frame entirely.
“You told me, I'm your rose,” Junmyeon mutters under his breath.
Yifan matches his boyfriend’s tone. “And what about that? I don't understand, Junmyeon. Please.” He cradled the crying face with his hands, feeling the warm saline against his palms. “Please make me understand.”
Junmyeon shakes his head weakly against his hold.
“You won't understand. You—” The smaller male sniffs between his words, struggling to get his tiny voice out. “You’ll leave m-me. Just li—just like he did . . . To his own rose.”
The gears in his head clicks again, turning fully this time around.
Junmyeon had been presenting every single insecurities that he had. Yifan always watches but he never really listens.
“Tell me, and I’ll listen.”
Say what you want me to do and I’ll do it for you.
“Do you think I’ll look better if I cut my hair?”
Would you like me more if I change my hairstyle to the look that you want?
“About me being your rose. Do you mean it?”
Will you leave me, like the Little Prince did, when you get tired of me?
“Oh, Junmyeon.”
Yifan pulls his boyfriend close to him, fitting the smaller frame under his bigger one. His hand finds purchase at the curve of the lithe waist while the other is resting over Junmyeon’s covered nape. He expects the other to at least retaliate a little but the smaller male just stands there, motionless.
“How did you even get there?” Yifan whispers. The hand on top of the covered head is now patting it in attempt to coax the smaller male to relax.
Junmyeon doesn’t fall for his touch, yet. His boyfriend is genuinely upset; the inner end of his eyebrows getting closer, the outer ends drooping down, his lips pursing as he pours his heart out. The way those jelly pink lips move is mesmerizing; hypnotic almost. Yifan knows that he needs to give his attention fully to whatever Junmyeon is saying but those lips, oh god he misses those plush lips against his own.
“There are other prettier flowers, Yifan. You’d think that I’m special now. But once you get bored of me, you'll throw me away, just li—umph—”
Yifan can't wait any longer; every second, every minute that passed without having those lips on his feels like a torture. It's awkward to kiss with this angle, his neck bending sideways to get to Junmyeon’s lips without making the smaller male to look up.
He goes in softly at first; just to get a little of that taste that he misses. Then his need grows bigger. He wants to proceed to devour those lips like they belong to him and him only but no, he will wait for his boyfriend to give him a sign.
He feels some light pressure on his back, knows that Junmyeon’s arms are now wrapped around his torso, small hands fisting on the fabric covering his back loosely. Those soft lips are now parting willingly against his own closed ones.
And so he takes.
Yifan goes in deeper; his hand now moves to slip into the hood, raking the soft hair along the sensitive nape to find a purchase there. Junmyeon gasps into the kiss, head tilting back from the touch. His tongue invades through the parted lips, but not too much. Just enough to make Junmyeon to open his mouth wider, demanding for more.
Like this—Junmyeon looking up, him leaning in—it's easier for Yifan to gain access into the small mouth. The sigh coming from the smaller male encourages him to push through the slit, exploring the warm, welcoming cavern.
As sweet as it tastes to be in Junmyeon’s mouth, there’s still traces of saltiness at the corner of his mouth. That is enough to remind him that the reason for those spilled tears was him. Junmyeon was afraid, terrified.
Everyone knows what the little prince feels towards his rose, but does anyone know what the rose feels to be left alone after it has received all the love from the prince?
Yifan goes for one last time, lips pursing to gently trap Junmyeon’s upper one between them. The smaller male responds with a suck on his much fuller lower lip.
They part away with much reluctance from both sides. Yifan rests his forehead against his boyfriend’s, sharing the warm air that they forget to breathe in just now. Yifan opens his eyes to be greeted by an orange hue, making him feel like he is the main actor in a sepia-filtered movie.
“Junmyeon,” he calls. The eyes of the said person slowly flutter apart. The hued light reflects onto those brown orbs, making them look like a pool of warm cognac with gold glitters settling at the base.
“I said this before and I’ll say it again: Yes, you are my one and only rose. You're my rose because I chose you and you found me.”
“I love you, Kim Junmyeon. I love you because you are you. I’d do anything just to make me believe that out of all the flowers, nothing can compare to you. You are my centerpiece.”
Those dried tear tracks on Junmyeon’s cheeks are wet again from fresh tears.
“Yes, we’ll discover a lot more about each other and yes, some of them might make us question ourselves. But I promise you, I’ll try. I’ll try the best that I can to keep us together.”
Yifan pulls his sobbing boyfriend and lets him rest his head on his shoulder. He calms the smaller male, saying It’s okay to every apology Junmyeon is muttering under his breath.
The tip of his nose is ticklish. It twitches in reflex, yet the sensation doesn't go away.
Yifan tries to move his hand so he can scratch the itch but finds himself unable to move his dominant hand. Groggily, he opens his eyes to find that there's a tuft of hair right under his nose. Yifan uses his other hand to wipe them away from his face then stares at the dyed strands falling from between his fingers.
Something . . . bright. Gray maybe? It would look really nice against your fair skin, don't you think?
Oh, Junmyeon. He finds himself saying that a lot nowadays—out of amazement mostly—and he knows he’s going to say it more and more in the future.
He gently cradles the head that has been nestling between his neck and shoulder, carefully removing his trapped arm. Junmyeon stirs a little in his sleep, face scrunching as he lost the source of his warmth.
Yifan gets his feet down from the bed. He reaches for his underwear—the same boxer that he wore through work yesterday—and inspects it to see any sign of spunk soiling the article. It seems good enough to wear for a while, just to cover his naked groin. He’ll ask for a clean one from Junmyeon later.
He leaves the room; not before draping the blanket over his boyfriend and leaving a kiss on the top of the smaller male’s crown before he is off to search for his missing phone.
He finds it on the floor in the living room with the battery at 7% along with notifications of missed calls and unread messages on the lock screen.
[ Park CY ] sent 08:10
bro
i told the boss that u r sick at home
yixing backed me up
so yeah
dont get caught!!!!1!1!
Yifan makes sure to give a lot of stickers for Chanyeol together with his gratitude. He does the same to Yixing, in which he gets an immediate reply of Aiyo wei, do you know how hard to keep a straight face with the boss? He promises to buy a dinner for Yixing (and Chanyeol too).
Yifan looks for a charger—thankfully he uses the same brand as his boyfriend—and finds it dangling from an extension plug near the television cabinet. As he gets nearer to the furniture, his eyes catch some DVD titles and merchandises from the TV shows that contributed a lot in his current relationship.
Snippets of memories come to him, flashing in his mind like a recap of previous episodes at the beginning of a new episode.
“We’re better off trying, I suppose, than not trying at all.”
“If I wasn’t there, there probably won’t be next time.”
“Can I ask for another kiss?”
"I'm not saying that we should stop seeing each other.
"I don't mind and I'm sure my boyfriend won't mind either."
“Basically you had a flash forward about us living together here?”
“You know, because whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude.”
“No one I've ever dated . . . no one, has ever been this interested in me before.”
After he leaves his phone to charge he goes back in the master room, picking up the clothes scattered on the floor. He spots a chair beside the small bookshelf near the window and decides that it's a good spot to stack the clothes temporarily when he notices a book resting on the seat.
He recognizes the book in a heartbeat: Le Petit Prince. He picks up the book and drops the clothes on the seat. He goes to the window for the search of better lighting, flipping through the pages of French literature and odd drawings, when he stops at pages marked with a folded paper.
There's a sentence highlighted on the page he is opening. Yifan tries to pronounce the words, relying on his rusty French skills he picked up back in Canada.
Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé.
Between the space of the lines there’s a set of neat writings in blue ink.
You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.
That’s what the fox said to the prince, Yifan recalls. And somehow it feels like the fox is talking to him.
He opens the folded paper to see writings (yifan YiFan YIFAN) and doodles (hearts—broken and complete) on the white surface of the paper. At one corner of the paper though, he notices a complete sentence, written messily.
I think I’ve been tamed to stay.
A sudden realization dawns on him. Junmyeon is so upset to be called a rose because he takes himself as the fox, the companion for the prince.
So Yifan, in reality, doesn't only get a rose. He also gains a fox to keep by his side, the one that will never leave him.
Oh, Junmyeon. How foolish of him for not realizing that sooner. He looks at his boyfriend, sleeping soundly on the king-sized bed, back curving to form a fetal position. Junmyeon seems vulnerable like that—all the worries of the world trapped in the creases between his eyebrows—and it is up to Yifan to tell him that he will go nowhere. He’ll be here, right beside him; just like the fox to the prince.
He looks for something to write with and he finds a black pen lying around on the bookshelf. He tests the ink somewhere else on the paper before using it to fix all the broken hearts. He puts Junmyeon’s name next to his name, adding some more smaller hearts in between their names.
Finally, he adds something underneath Junmyeon’s heartfelt outpour, rushing to finish with the writing when he hears a small groan coming from his boyfriend. He hides the book and the paper behind him before turning and giving a wide smile at the man who is just beginning to wake up.
You have tamed me, so let me stay.