Yifan locks his phone and slips it into his back pocket, a wide grin appearing on his face. He feels like a 14-year-old with a crush, which is totally uncalled for since Junmyeon was just a Really Great Friend (or so he insists to himself). Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, Yifan heads towards the bathroom to freshen up for his dinner date.

 

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Junmyeon stands in front of the door, gnawing at his lip in anxiety. He had arrived five minutes early, but just could not seem to bring himself to alert his host of his presence.

 

What if he happened to be at the wrong address? Or too early? Was he dressed appropriately? Should he have brought wine or something? (Though Yifan did expressly tell him not to . . . )

 

Just the thought of Yifan makes Junmyeon jittery, his usually cool head now filled with the incessant buzzes of 'what-if's and 'what-could-be's and 'what-should-probably-be's. He just cannot think straight. Yifan is definitely . . .  special. His deep but gentle voice and comforting presence had put Junmyeon at ease when he met the Chinese male in person for the first time. He had no regrets showing up that weekend at the coffee shop. In fact, he felt like giving himself a pat on the back for taking that leap of faith. And while he knows Yifan is nice, and sweet, and patient and kind, Junmyeon still can’t help but feel nervous. Just because their first meeting had gone well, doesn’t mean this next one would. Right??

 

Releasing a deep breath, Junmyeon raises his hand towards the doorbell, hand hovering midway as he hesitates. Before he can talk himself out of it, he presses the button, his arm dropping to his side. He can hear movement behind the door and someone walking closer and closer.

 

Junmyeon panics. Should he wave when Yifan opens the door? Or smile and greet? Or wait for Yifan to say something first?

 

Surprisingly for Junmyeon, none of the above happens. Junmyeon knows Yifan is behind the door, fiddling with the lock and the peephole, but he doesn’t expect to hear Yifan’s deep voice through the closed door.

 

“Password please! You can only enter when you tell me the password.”

 

Junmyeon furrows his eyebrows and scratches his head absently. “Umm . . .  12345?”

 

There’s silence on the other side, before an amused chuckle comes from Yifan. “Junmyeon, not all passwords are 12345.”

 

Junmyeon folds his arms across his chest, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Well, you didn’t say anything about a password.”

 

There’s silence on the other end before Yifan responds, playfulness oozing from his words. “Remember that time we discussed Harry Potter, and we tried to sort each other into Hogwarts houses? What house did we sort me in?”

 

Junmyeon recalls their conversation. It had started out with the both of them mentioning embarrassing incidents that had happened to them. Junmyeon remembers how he had been highly amused by Yifan’s recount of him dealing with a child that caused an unfortunate mini disaster while watching the third film of the franchise. Yifan had been babysitting his 4-year-old niece, who had freaked out upon the appearance of Sirius Black and peed all over herself. That had launched them in a full conversation about the Boy Who Lived and resulted in them trying to sort each other into a Hogwarts house. Their not-so heated debate was filled with evidence from random webpages they had Googled before finally coming to an agreement. Junmyeon in Hufflepuff: loyal, dedicated and patient. Whereas they had decided that Yifan’s ambition and resourcefulness put him in . . .

 

“Slytherin.”

 

There’s the sound of the lock clicking and the door swinging open and finally, Yifan is standing in front of Junmyeon, flashing the bright gummy smile that Junmyeon had so missed over the past few days. The sight makes Junmyeon stop, heart caught in his throat. Yifan is dressed in a white button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slacks and reading glasses perched on his nose. His hair is slightly mussed up; brown tufts loosely held by whatever remained of the gel he had applied this morning.

 

Junmyeon is pulled through the doorframe by a warm grip on his wrist. “Don’t stand out in the cold, you’re going to catch a chill.”

 

He enters a narrow hallway, with a small shoe rack placed to the side. The hallway led to the living room which comprised a dark blue couch and a flat screen television. A brown bookshelf took the corner of the room. Junmyeon notes with interest the various books on the shelf, as well as several photo frames and small figurines. The space is cosy and neat; Yifan definitely is an interior designer. The living room opens up to the dining area, which has been decorated specially for the night by Yifan.

 

Yifan had dug out the fairy lights he normally uses for Christmas from the storeroom, and twisted them around the window grill. The dining table seems to be made out of dark oak, with one large lit candle at the centre of the rectangular table and a few other candles placed scattered around the area. The table is set for two, filled with various mouthwatering dishes. Junmyeon can’t wait to test out Yifan’s culinary skills. The scene vaguely reminds him of the Great Hall in Harry Potter, without the Hogwarts Ghosts or any other people. He turns to his side, finding a sheepish (or maybe even nervous) looking Yifan. “Umm, I do hope everything is to your liking . . . ? I didn’t really know what to do so—”

 

“This . . .  is amazing. You prepared so much and I really should have brought something over . . . like fruits.”

 

“Junmyeon, it’s fine. And I told you not to bring anything, I would’ve felt really bad if you did.” Junmyeon remains silent, face a little flushed and the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. “Just enough yourself tonight, okay? And you’ve gotta try the mashed potatoes. They’re pretty smashing, if I may say so myself.” Junmyeon lets out a light giggle, and doesn’t protest when Yifan ushers him to the table.

 

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All in all, Yifan considered the night a success. Junmyeon had seemed to enjoy himself, and that was all that mattered. They had talked about anything and everything, the conversation flowing much better than either thought it would, while exchanging random stories from their day and debating over random topics that came up. But, as much as they’d like to talk the night away, Junmyeon was showing signs of fatigue, and Yifan had no intention of taking any of his much-needed rest time.

 

“Ah before you leave, I actually have something for you.” Upon seeing Junmyeon’s look of distress, he quickly adds, “It’s really small, not much, so please don’t feel bad!”

 

Yifan runs into his room and brings his little gift out, placing it gently within Junmyeon’s tiny hands. Junmyeon gasps, eyes lighting up upon seeing the yellow and black crest, and is even more amused when Yifan brings his own Slytherin keychain out from behind his back. But that is soon stopped by a giant yawn from the smaller male, who tries to use to his tiny fist to cover his mouth.

 

Yifan chuckles. “And it’s time for you to go, I’ll see you to the bus stop.”

 

“No it’s oka—”

 

“I insist.”

 

Yifan’s firm tone and warm stare had Junmyeon agreeing.

 

The cool night breeze brushes their faces as they walk side by side along the concrete pavement, streetlights illuminating their path. The bus stop is located along the main road, which means that the two have to walk a bit to exit the neighbourhood. The street is fairly empty at this time: Yifan’s house is located off the main road which means that there’s barely any traffic, apart from the occasional car or two bringing a neighbour back home.

 

The silence between them is oddly comforting, the remnants from the high of an evening filled with great conversation and food. The evening wind is proving slightly too chilly for Junmyeon though, judging by the way his coat is buttoned up and his chin is slowly disappearing under the coat neck. Yifan is tempted to pull him closer and share his own body heat with the smaller man, but that probably wouldn’t be considered appropriate physical contact between friends, would it?

 

Junmyeon’s voice breaks Yifan from his little internal debate.

 

“No one has done anything like this for me before so, thank you. I really had a great time tonight.”

 

“It’s my pleasure.” Silently, Yifan notes how adorable Junmyeon looks at that moment: a shy smile gracing his face as it disappears into his coat, nose crinkled, ears pink from the cold, hands stuffed into his coat pocket and eyes shaped into tiny crescents peering up at Yifan. They have already reached the traffic junction, and the traffic lights illuminate Junmyeon’s face in greens, reds and ambers, and tiny specks of colour reflected in his eyes. Yifan is smitten.

 

He is snapped out by the beeping coming from the traffic light and turns away, making to cross the road. “Let’s cross, Junmyeon.”

 

Just as he is about to step onto the road, he feels a tug on his hand and is pulled back, just in time as a car zooms past in front of him. “Oops . . . ”

 

“Oops?! You could have gotten yourself killed! What a headline, ‘Man dies crossing the road because he didn’t check for cars’. I didn’t know you disliked our date that much. Anyway, you’re going to follow me now.”

 

Junmyeon turns with a flourish and drags a mildly bewildered Yifan across the road, all the while chiding and nagging him for not adhering to road safety rules. He probably shouldn’t say that he was distracted by Junmyeon, right?

 

“Okay mom, I was wrong. I’ll remember to check for cars next time, okay?”

 

“Mom?! If I weren’t there, there probably wouldn’t be a next time . . . ” The two have a mini stare-off of sorts, Junmyeon’s concerned and upset gaze with Yifan’s embarrassed and slightly mesmerised gaze. Yifan belatedly realises that Junmyeon’s touch is still warm on his skin, hands clasped together. His heartbeat speeds up a bit. “Uhh Junmyeon, you’re still holding my hand.”

 

Junmyeon looks at him defiantly, chin raised, and squeezes his hand tighter. “A mother has to take care of her baby.”

 

The bus stop is empty, save for a lone person listening to music on their phone, and the privacy is welcome as Junmyeon, seeming absentmindedly, rubs tiny circles into Yifan’s palm, eyes on the lookout for an approaching bus.

 

Yifan will probably never admit it aloud, but Junmyeon has his heart racing and adrenaline pumping, and has him contemplating that maybe, probably, perhaps Junmyeon could not be considered just a Really Great Friend anymore.

 

But finally the bus arrives, bringing their night to a screeching halt. Junmyeon mutters a quick goodbye with a small smile, before scrambling up the bus. He appears from a window a few seconds later, waving to Yifan as the bus drives off.

 

A weary Yifan steps back into his apartment, ready to clean up and collapse into bed. His phone beeps, and Yifan wonders who would message him at this time.