Would Love To Have You For Dinner

“I’m sorry.”

 

There are sounds of fabrics rustling behind him; socks against carpet, worn leather jacket against old cardigan, velvet box that contains Junmyeon’s watch being opened, and Yifan likes the way Junmyeon’s scent wafts all over the room as he settles into his jacket despite his rushing manner.

 

“It’s alright; it’s just a five-minute walk from here. And I’m the one who owes you an apology. I should’ve told you about the reservation earlier instead of deciding it myself,” Yifan replies, getting into his jacket himself and grabbing his wallet from the top of the shelf next to the television where he put it earlier. Junmyeon fixes his glasses and stares at his feet, probably still thinking about things to say—possibly more apologies in different scenarios; it’s not so hard to decipher this small guy’s mind.

 

Okay, Yifan admits it; he’s kind of disappointed that the night doesn’t turn out to be as he had planned inside his head. If everything had gone according to plan, they would be sitting inside the small Italian restaurant three blocks down from Junmyeon’s apartment, feasting on the authentic Italian seafood pizza that Junmyeon had been telling him since about a month ago and drinking the best wine the eatery could offer. After that, maybe they could head back to Junmyeon’s place and have some bonding moment together, whatever the word ‘bonding’ might imply to the both of them. Yifan doesn’t think his interpretation of the word would be very innocent, though. Hey, it’s Saturday, after all, and it has been almost two weeks since the last time they saw each other.

 

But then Junmyeon’s Editor-in-Chief had to come into the picture and sent him more tasks with deadlines before midnight, and everything shattered. What ‘bonding’ moment? He could hardly enter Junmyeon’s working room to hand him his coffee earlier because Junmyeon was shrieking like a goddamn banshee on the phone and as much as he loves Junmyeon, he still loves his eardrums and himself more than anything.

 

So when the clock struck 8 PM and Junmyeon didn’t seem to be making much progress on the remaining work, Yifan decided that maybe tonight is just not it and called the restaurant to cancel the reservation off, before he suggested to Junmyeon that he’s going to take responsibility for their dinner tonight, and if he really does feel apologetic about it, “Spend 30 minutes with me, just to shop for the ingredients that we need, alright?”

 

“You can cook?”

 

“Hey, I still cook better than you even with my eyes closed, okay?”

 

“But still . . .  sorry. And thanks, for thinking about me . . .  and stuff.”

 

Pink cheeks. Red ears. His downward gaze that looks nothing but endearing. His glasses slide down his small nose, and his hair tousled, and Yifan swears he isn’t going to let anyone else see this sweet, dishevelled expression of Junmyeon, ever.

 

“If you don’t stop apologising, love, I’ll kiss you,” Yifan warns him playfully, hands already reaching for the keys hanging on the hook between the hallway light switch and the front door. It’s been a few months since he first visited Junmyeon’s place, and Yifan has unconsciously developed a habit of hanging his keys there instead of placing it inside the marble bowl next to the shoes rack where Junmyeon usually puts his. Junmyeon told him that the hook was from the previous tenant and he couldn’t find a way of removing it from the wall without ruining the wallpaper, so he let it stay.

 

There are a few seconds of silence after he said that, and Yifan stops fussing with the door lock that has always been a little bit difficult to open with his set of keys. Turning around just to check on Junmyeon, he finds his boyfriend crouching and hiding his face behind his palms next to the shoes rack. His ears are now as red as a ripe strawberry, and his glasses mushed up against his face as he refuses to move his hands away.

 

“Junmyeon? You okay?”

 

“Then . . . I’m going to apologise once again,” he mumbles against his palms, stands up straight and walks directly towards Yifan. Taking his hands off his face, he stares into Yifan’s intrigued face and shyly smiles, before he indeed, apologises for the nth time.

 

“I’m very, very sorry for tonight, Wu Yifan, so I hope you’ll kiss me.”

 

Yifan wastes no time in letting his arms snake around Junmyeon’s waist and nape, pulling him close and pushing him up against the still-closed door, stealing every breath that Junmyeon lets out and inhaling the sweet scent from Junmyeon’s worn cardigan rubbed against his jacket.

 

Yifan wastes no time, no time at all.

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That one kiss takes almost 10 minutes for them to settle down, and when they do, Junmyeon laughs at his own swollen lips and the slight stinging on his tongue. He however, doesn’t appreciate the way Yifan doesn’t seem to be affected much by it, except for his somewhat reddened lower lip, thanks to Junmyeon himself for sucking a little bit too hard before they actually parted earlier.

 

If only he knows how he affects Yifan as a whole, complete human being.

 

“You don’t cook that much, do you, love?” Yifan asks him as he pulls one clean trolley out from the stacks at the entrance of the grocery Junmyeon frequents; slightly disgusted by the slimy substance that presents on almost every trolley he pulled out earlier. Junmyeon told him that it was probably some leftover veggies being mushed at the bottom of customer’s groceries and haven’t been cleaned for the week. Yifan wonders if the trolleys are being cleaned at all.

 

“Instant ramyun, frozen pizza, frozen dumpling, instant chicken rice, instant pasta, frozen—”

 

“Are you a yeti on-the-go or something? What’s with the frozen and instant food??” Yifan yells desperately, and a couple of ahjummas are glaring at them from a distance. Junmyeon laughs and bows down in their direction, apologising for the commotion. Yifan doesn’t want to, though, but because he loves Junmyeon and obviously, he’s not going to lose his boyfriend’s points, he bows down too, albeit begrudgingly.

 

“My eyes are usually on the screen the whole day, and before I knew it, it’s already midnight. I live alone, so I don’t really keep track with my meals. Whenever I’m hungry, I grab anything that I could and make do of it. If I don’t have any inside the house, I’ll come here and get some supply. I like it here, it’s quiet and away from the main street, but it has everything I need,” Junmyeon explains, hands picking the loose threads at the hem of his cardigan, a lonely smile threatening to appear on his lips.

 

Sometimes, Yifan wonders about every little thing that he had classified as beautiful, and how he classified them before Junmyeon came to his life. And then he would wonder how Junmyeon could be considered beautiful according to himself, and before he could find the answer to his own queries, he would be appreciating every little hair strand that exists on the man’s body, and figures that he could never have the answer to any of it.

 

(Except that he does; he does have the answer but he refuses to acknowledge the whole complicated search and he wonders if it could be simplified into one simple answer.)

 

“You should gain some weight, love. Your wrists feel so fragile it makes me worried,” Yifan suggests out of concern, and grabs Junmyeon’s left wrist that rests on the handlebar of the trolley, feeling the thin bed of skin around it with his long, nimble fingers. Even though he appears to be as red as a tomato right now, Junmyeon lets him, and Yifan grins as he brings the hand nearer to his lips and kisses the back of it.

 

“I’m used to being alone, Yifan. I’m not as weak or fragile as you think I am. And I am a man, for God’s sake. I can live with a few missed meals, so don’t you worry.” One hand palms Yifan’s cheek, feeling the flawless skin underneath his. Yifan pouts and tugs on his grip, gesturing Junmyeon to be nearer to him.

 

“Please get used to being loved. I’m here now, am I not? Use me to love you. What do you mean a man can live with a few missed meals? You’re, first and foremost, a human being, love. I don’t want you to forget that,” Yifan tells him, eyes looking into his and a sad smile blooms on his face.

 

“You’re doing it again,” Junmyeon whispers as he moves closer to Yifan, hand already properly entangled within Yifan’s, counting his knuckles and remembering his skin with the tips of his pale fingers.

 

A few elderly ladies are suddenly walking into the same alley they are in, so Junmyeon instinctively pulls their hands in between, hiding it from their sights. He tries to take his hand away when the ladies are getting closer, but Yifan only tightens his grip and in the end, they are both awkwardly standing side by side, watching and waving as the two ladies pass by. The elderly ladies aren’t even bothered by the fact that the two men are holding hands; they are too mesmerised by the fact that there exist people with sharp features like Yifan, to be honest.

 

“Doing what, love?” Yifan innocently asks, hand still gripping Junmyeon’s tight. If Junmyeon could become even redder than he is right now, Yifan thinks he’s going to add another new colour to the spectrum and call it ‘Junmyeon’.

 

“Calling me ‘darling’ and ‘love’ and all that stuff. It’s weird, don’t you think? A man calling another man all those stuff?”

 

“Well, I’m not going to call any man other than you ‘darling’ or ‘love,’ that’s for sure,” Yifan says seriously, and Junmyeon turns around to look at him properly. Yifan is expecting a simple ‘thank you’ from him, because that’s just how Junmyeon is, but when he hooks his arms around his shoulders and tiptoes nearer before planting a light kiss on his lips, Yifan never thought his eyes could be as wide as they are now.

 

He’s glad he’s not the only possessive one.

 

They are getting kind of lost inside each other’s eyes when someone clears his throat loudly and forces them to give him their attentions.

 

“Fancy meeting you . . . here? Yifan?” Chanyeol is standing just a couple of metres away from them, one arm carrying a full basket of frozen pizzas and dumplings with a few cans of beer buried underneath the pile. He’s wearing his casual hoodie and ripped jeans with sneakers, and his smile is so loud and bright Yifan finds it hard to be angry at him for the interruption.

 

“Same goes to you. What are you doing here?” Yifan asks him back, finally letting go of Junmyeon because the latter insisted that he should, with his pout. Junmyeon then walks around the trolley as an effort to put a distance between him and the two guys. Chanyeol follows his movement with his eyes, and chuckles when he sees the tip of Junmyeon’s ears getting red.

 

“Getting my supplies for the week,” he says casually, lifting the basket hung on his arm and shoves it into Yifan’s face, in case the lad doesn’t get what he means.

 

“Why here?” Yifan asks, not fully convinced, and even though he kind of thinks that it is rather intrusive to ask Chanyeol about things like this.

 

“Because this is the nearest grocer to my house? You’ve been to my house, right? It’s just a couple of blocks away from here.” Chanyeol reminds him. Then, turning to Junmyeon, he greets, “Hello there. I believe we haven’t met before. My name’s Park Chanyeol, I’m Yifan’s colleague,” Chanyeol abruptly (and brilliantly) averts their topic of conversation to Junmyeon, holding out his hand for a handshake with the flabbergasted Junmyeon. He timidly reaches out and nods.

 

“Kim Junmyeon.”

 

“Oh,” says Chanyeol, a huge grin threatening to appear on his face. Yifan rolls his eyes and slowly fists one hand before shoving it towards Chanyeol’s face. The tall lad lets out a small laugh as he playfully avoids it, and Junmyeon is left bemused by their reactions.

 

“Chanyeol, stop using your disappearing act on me, you arsehole! I told you we’re not going to buy all of those frozen—oh. Sorry.”

 

A small man with light brown bouncy hair, small eyes and pretty smile can be seen walking towards them in a hurried pace before he stops and sees Yifan and Junmyeon. His pretty hand is covering his mouth and blotches of pink appear on his cheeks, embarrassed.

 

“Sorry, sorry. I was looking for some pasta earlier and I bumped into my colleague. Remember about the friend that I told you?” Chanyeol says as he drags the small man closer to them with his usual cheerful, big smile. As they wait for the couple to arrive, Yifan takes a glance towards Junmyeon, and is getting immediately concerned.

 

“Wait. Aren’t you Junmyeon-hyung?”

 

Junmyeon lost all the colour in his face.

 

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The small man’s name is Byun Baekhyun; Junmyeon’s junior during high school. He claims himself to be the closest friend Junmyeon ever had, and Junmyeon didn’t say anything to object it, so Yifan figures that it must’ve been the truth.

 

“I build chairs!” he admits. He’s a bullet train of thoughts; can’t really shut up, especially when Chanyeol told him that Yifan was the co-designer for the Vanity Fair’s Spring runway stage last year, which he adores so much and inspired his designs on furniture in the last few months.

 

But after all those admiration are out and about, he shuts up, smiles, and only nods to Chanyeol’s words and then smiles again, and Yifan can see the way his small but bright eyes disappear behind his cheeks; a very sincere smile, like he’s listening to a beloved. Junmyeon seems to subtly look away, but his grip on the bar handle of the trolley is somehow getting stronger that it barely moves when Yifan tries subtly to take it away from him.

 

A few minutes later however, Baekhyun frowns and turns to meet Junmyeon’s eyes, inching away from Chanyeol and Yifan who are getting immersed in discussing about an ongoing project they’re trying to finish within a deadline. Yifan isn’t letting him go out of his sight, though. He doesn’t trust Baekhyun, somehow.

 

“Why aren’t you saying anything, hyung? It’s been years since we last met and you’re acting like a stranger. It hurts, you know,” he starts, pretending to pout, taking a few small steps so that he will be nearer to Junmyeon, and Junmyeon is clearly uncomfortable with the shortening distance.

 

“It’s . . . it’s been a while, Baekhyun. I don’t . . . I don’t really know what to say,” Junmyeon admits, and Baekhyun chuckles. Yifan swears he sees the small man’s eyes turn dark for a few seconds there.

 

“Weird. You seemed to have a lot to say when we parted after your high school graduation, though. What was it that you said then?” he asks in a whisper, grin getting wider, and Junmyeon looks as if he is about to cry as his head is down and his eyes seem to be aware of his shoes more than of his surroundings.

 

Chanyeol’s words don’t seem to penetrate his ears anymore, because Yifan can only see red in his eyes, and it only takes one pleading glance from Junmyeon for him to pull Junmyeon away from whatever it is that Baekhyun is trying to put on him.

 

“You know what, Chanyeol? We still didn’t have our dinner yet, and suddenly I don’t feel like cooking tonight, love.” He suddenly says, stopping Chanyeol from speaking and jolting the other two men from whatever talk they are in. He turns to Junmyeon who has gotten his blotches of red back on his cheeks at the mention of ‘love’. He then takes the hand Yifan is extending towards him, letting himself to be pulled away from Baekhyun and be next to his boyfriend, safe and sound.

 

“We’ll continue this at the office on Monday, okay, Chanyeol?”

 

“Oh, okay. Sorry, I got kinda worked up as always.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Yifan assures, hand still holding on to Junmyeon’s, ready to escape and leave their trolley behind when Baekhyun pulls Junmyeon’s sleeve and stops their track.

 

“Well, um, it’s really nice seeing you again, hyung. I wonder if we could have dinner together, you know; reminiscing the good old days. If you’re not comfortable with just us, knowing you, we can have a night out with these guys too—you guys alright with this, right?” he asks for their approval, eyes pleading with excessive blinking and Yifan can really see why Chanyeol cannot leave this guy alone.

 

“Yeah, we’re cool with it. In fact, why don’t you guys come to my place next week? I redecorated my dining room a month ago, and since you guys are the experts in this field, I’ll let you guys judge. I could show off my culinary skills to you guys, too. How about that?” Yifan casually invites, and Baekhyun cannot hide his excitement as he nods frantically to the invitation.

 

“But it’s really a surprise, knowing that you guys are friends,” Baekhyun says out of nowhere a few moments later when Yifan is ready to take Junmyeon away again from the uncomfortable situation, voice a bit staggered and face contemplating. He really looks as if he cannot believe that someone would ever take an interest in Junmyeon, and that expression puts an unsettled feeling in Yifan’s guts. It feels like an insult that is being thrown innocently, when it’s not.

 

“But we’re not friends,” Yifan explains with a witty smile drawn on his face, and Junmyeon sees that, so he makes a confused expression, just like how Chanyeol and Baekhyun is.

 

“You’re not?” Baekhyun asks, trying to making sense of his words and the situation. Yifan likes to see him dumbfounded like that; it feels like anytime he could yell to Baekhyun “Hah! Serves you right!” but he doesn’t know for what. You know how mind doesn’t really work the logics sometimes.

 

“No, at the moment we are definitely not.” He pulls their intertwined hands to his lips and puts a kiss to Junmyeon’s pale knuckles, and laughs it off as he drags the now red, putty thing that is Junmyeon behind him to the exit of the grocer.

 

He doesn’t care what’s the expression on Baekhyun’s face as of now. Chanyeol might taunt him at the office on Monday but that’s the least of his concern.

 

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Their dinner ends up being the take-away seafood pizza from the Italian restaurant that Yifan had cancelled the reservation at earlier, and Junmyeon seems to be satisfied that he gets to eat his favourite pizza after all, so Yifan is content.

 

But when Yifan recalls about having to do some early preparation on the dishes he’s going to cook for them next week, Junmyeon recoils on the bean bag he’s sprawled on; arms hugging his knees and head buried in between. Yifan can see that, but he wants to make sure if Junmyeon’s discomfort is about the dinner itself or Baekhyun, so he puts out the bait.

 

“Baekhyun talks a lot, yeah? I barely contributed to our conversation earlier.”

 

“Yeah, he always does.” Junmyeon replies; his words mumbled against his knees. The words sound nostalgic, though. Yifan tries another shot.

 

“He was your best friend?”

 

No answer. Yifan is getting uneasy.

 

“Did you guys have a fight, then?” There’s a hum that escapes from Junmyeon, but that’s hardly an answer. Alright, Yifan admits it; he’s kind of jealous that someone from Junmyeon’s past suddenly appears out of nowhere and riles up Junmyeon’s insides. He wants to be the only one who does that. So when Junmyeon isn’t responding to his questions like he wanted him to be, there’s a red alarm inside his head that kind of reminds him that it would be alright (but disastrous) if he decides to be pissed off right now.

 

So, instead of waiting for the answers—and it might make him look petty—Yifan stands up, reaches for his jacket and keys and walks towards the front door. Junmyeon watches him as he goes, and in panic, he pulls Yifan’s jacket away from his hand.

 

“Where—where are you going?”

 

“Home.”

 

“ . . . Why?” Junmyeon asks, half-pleading and hugging Yifan’s jacket in his arms tighter, and Yifan knows his plan is working.

 

“Because if I stay, I might let myself think about your past with Baekhyun and make myself jealous to death. So I’d rather get home and busy myself up.” He explains honestly, and Junmyeon shakes his head hard enough that his face turns red. Yifan takes it as he doesn’t want him to leave, then.

 

“It’s not like that. It’s never like that. Baekhyun and I were never like that, so you don’t have to be jealous over anything.” He walks closer towards Yifan, resting his head into his lover’s chest, asking to be comforted. Yifan obliges.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you. So Junmyeon, darling, would you like to let me know what happened, then?”

 

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Baekhyun was the kind of student that you would find in every school, in every batch of students, every year in every country. He’s good at studying, sports, has special talents and was famous among the students and teachers.

 

But there’s a drawback for a perfect student like him: they tend to be tyrants. And that was what Baekhyun was like. He was a tyrant that enjoyed manipulating people around him, and even though it didn’t seem like he was bullying them, Junmyeon bet his life that he actually was and he only got away with it because no one suspected him to be a bully; not even his victims.

 

“But how did he find you? You weren’t even in the same year,” Yifan asks as they are settled back in the living room, sitting next to each other and satisfied as Junmyeon decides to rest his head on his shoulder.

 

“People like him seem to be attracted to losers like me. Even though I don’t really like socialising, there was a time in high school when I craved for human interaction. You know, teenage emo stage and stuff. And Baekhyun knew that. We were in the same club and he somehow tried really hard to earn points from me, so in the end, we became friends. He’s really easy to talk to, you know?”

 

“I don’t want to know, thank you,” Yifan retorts, pissed. Junmyeon laughs and snuggles closer as Yifan lifts his arm and secures it safely around Junmyeon’s frame. The Gag Concert is on, but the telly is left on mute. Both of them don’t want to turn it off; maybe they don’t want to make the atmosphere awkward with just the sounds of them and their heartbeats.

 

“But that’s it. I got myself a friend and he found himself a victim. By the time I was about to graduate, there was a mean gossip spread around town, saying how I’m acting suspiciously close towards Baekhyun and that I’m aiming to sleep with him . . . or something. It’s gotten so bad that I was called to the principal office to clear this issue. At first I tried to ignore it, because Baekhyun didn’t say anything about it; he didn’t avoid me or anything. I was thinking that oh, it will die down on its own. But then . . . I heard him talking about it with his friends . . . and it wasn’t . . .  I wasn’t . . . I just didn’t think that he’s the one who started it. I never expected that it would come from him,” Junmyeon ends his explanation, and by the time he is finished, Yifan is enveloping him like he is about to protect Junmyeon from every bad thing that ever existed in the world.

 

“It’s a thing in the past, but I’m still quite shaken by it, I guess.” He says, returning the hug and sniffing in the scent of Yifan’s cologne. Yifan can feel the shiver that runs through his fingers as Junmyeon places his hands on his shoulders.

 

“Sorry. I won’t ask again. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s alright, you deserved to know. And I needed to tell this to someone, too. But for now, just, hold me, please.” Junmyeon whispers and Yifan takes his whole small frame into his embrace.

 

“I’ll protect you, love, so don’t you worry.”

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“Remind Baekhyun about it and please, come dressed in your best skin.” Yifan lets Chanyeol know on Friday when he was asked about the dinner he planned on spur just a week ago. Chanyeol doesn’t show it, but he is all charged with the thought of having the chance to give his views on his senior’s place. It’s not like Yifan nevers ask for his opinion on anything, but Chanyeol, being the traditional Korean guy, as traditional as he could, at least, always gives way to Yifan whenever they’re collaborating on a project, and that’s something that Yifan wishes he could fix about him.

 

Anyways.

 

He tells Junmyeon the same thing over the phone on his way home from the office, and instead of a simple ‘okay’ as a reply, Junmyeon seems to be thinking for quite a long time on the other side of the line.

 

“ . . . Why?”

 

“Just to fit the theme of the dishes I’m going to make.”

 

“And what theme would that be?”

 

Yifan chuckles, and Junmyeon is heard grunting softly.

 

“Junmyeon, don’t forget your glasses.”

 

“Again, why?”

 

“To fit the theme.”

 

“Yifan!”

 

Yifan spends almost a minute after the call has ended just to contemplate how lovely it is to have a normal phone conversation with someone you love.

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Yifan wasn’t joking when he told everyone to come in their best skins, because he is. With his navy blue Italian cut suit over his crisp white shirt inside, paired with a grey and white polka dot necktie, a pair of dark brown Oxfords and a silver Tag Heuer donning his left wrist; Junmyeon wonders if he’s even adequately dressed enough for this dinner. And what’s with dressing up for dinner anyways? Humans always tend to complicate something so simple and easy.

 

Junmyeon pulls on the hem of his dark brown checker suit and checks on his Puma running shoes; the only nice shoes he currently has in his shoes rack. It’s pretty nice that they’re in black, thank goodness. But Yifan still obviously looks a thousand times better than he is, and he cannot help feeling so underdressed.

 

“You look too handsome. I don’t like it,” however, is the first thing that Yifan whispers to Junmyeon as soon as he walks into Yifan’s apartment. This is only Junmyeon’s third visit here; the first one was when Yifan invited him for that silly (but adorably enthusiastic) Hogwarts dinner, the second one was when they were on a date and it suddenly rained heavily, and he borrowed Yifan’s shower (and clothes) with a cup of hot chocolate, waiting for the rain to stop.

 

He didn’t expect the third time would be a dinner with the person he would like to avoid the most.

 

“ . . . And looking handsome is a crime, how? Hey!” Yifan ignores his chide and proceeds to run his huge hand along Junmyeon’s carefully combed hair, messing it up and then arranging it again. He then pulls out Junmyeon’s glasses that are tucked inside his breast pocket and forces him to wear it right then.

 

“There. Better. Now, let me hang your coat for you, Junmyeon.” He offers politely, and as he is taking his coat off begrudgingly, Junmyeon notices that there’s something different with the way Yifan speaks this evening.

 

“If you may wait in the dining room Junmyeon, that would be great. My two other guests are already impatient for their entrée,” Yifan invites him to walk along with him across the long hallway towards an open room at the end of the apartment. Junmyeon is about to contemplate whether coming here is a wrong decision after all, as soon as he sees how Baekhyun is smiling darkly next to Chanyeol who seems to be mesmerised with the decoration of the room.

 

But then, he stops and takes another look at where Chanyeol is actually looking.

 

There’s a chandelier made of mule deer antlers hanging from the top, designed in a cascading arrangement. It looks so simple yet so majestic when the lights are on, as the shadows hit the long, oak dinner table situated beneath it. Junmyeon takes his eyes off the chandelier and is met with the beautiful indigo blue that is painted all over the room with a few mixtures of small dots of yellow, as if the whole room is a dark night sky. The wall that is being back faced by Chanyeol and Baekhyun right now is made up of beautiful logs from different types of woods stacked together, with a narrow counter that expands across it from side to side decorated with small ornaments; probably souvenirs from all over the world.

 

Junmyeon secretly wonders how many places had Yifan gone to without him. He wonders how many night skies in different places had Yifan seen in order for him to design such a majestic room with so few colours and materials and sources.

 

“Have a seat, Junmyeon. The entrée will be out in a minute.” Yifan calls him out, pulling a seat in front of Baekhyun for him to sit. He glances angrily at Yifan; as if he intentionally picks the place for Junmyeon to torture his soul. He might be. Who knows.

 

“I’ll help you,” he refuses to sit, but Yifan holds his shoulder and puts him to his place.

 

“You’re my guest for today, and I have everything set out already. Do not fret, Junmyeon.” And there it is, the weird way of speech again.

 

Yifan prepared Spiced Garlic Escargot with sliced baguette for the entrée. The smell of cheese and wine and garlic permeate into the room as soon as he enters, two steaming plates balanced on one arm while his hands are carrying the other two, like a professional waiter in a 5-star restaurant. A few strands of his dark hair fall and dance on his forehead, so as soon as he sets the food on the table, he slicks them back up, and catches Junmyeon staring at him with a pair of twinkling eyes.

 

Quite the effect he wished for.

 

“We’re eating snails?” Baekhyun tries to start a conversation, one hand holding up a shell and the other poking the entrance with his fork. Yifan has settled in the seat next to Junmyeon, coat already off and now left with his white shirt, sleeves smartly folded and displaying the veins on his forearms. He pours them some of the wine Chanyeol brought earlier, just some 12,000 won-cheap pinot noir but with great taste, as he claimed.

 

“Yes, we are. It’s not fresh snails though. The fresh ones will have more earthy taste and I’m not sure you guys are going to enjoy it. Although, I found an exotic canned food store in Cheondam-dong last week, so I thought why not give it a try?” he explains, truthfully, and takes a moment to watch Junmyeon’s face change from being cautious to amusement upon seeing Baekhyun and Chanyeol fumbling to eat the exotic dish.

 

“Why snails, though?”

 

“Because snails love eating with company. Don’t we all love having someone to eat with, thus, this dinner?”

 

“It’s surprisingly delicious,” Chanyeol compliments, dipping the bread into the broth and savouring the taste with his eyes closed.

 

Junmyeon, however, has not touched the snails at all. He only eats a slice of bread with the broth, and then puts the plate away. Yifan understands that Junmyeon isn’t adventurous with the things he puts inside his mouth, so he isn’t saying anything about it. In fact, he is about to get up and get a plate of avocado-and-shrimps salad he prepared earlier, just in case anyone isn’t comfortable with eating the escargot when Baekhyun opens his mouth again.

 

“You’re still like that, hyung. Always rejecting people’s kindness in a silent way. That’s kind of rude to our host, isn’t it, Chanyeol?” he turns to Chanyeol for a yes, but Chanyeol makes a better decision of downing the cheap red wine at the right moment.

 

“I’m . . .  I’m not . . . ” Junmyeon’s head snaps towards Yifan, trying to explain that he doesn’t mean anything by not eating the dish, but Yifan isn’t even looking at him. Instead, Yifan takes his hand underneath the table, coos him with his thumb while he is staring at Baekhyun with a smile.

 

“Baekhyun, sir, would you rather I extend you the same kindness as the escargot?”

 

Everyone goes silent. Even Chanyeol who was drinking like a fish is now timidly putting his glass back onto the table, and looking at Yifan with caution. Junmyeon stops mumbling and his eyes are darting between his plate and Yifan’s face.

 

Is this . . .  a parody?

 

“I’m sorry?” Baekhyun asks, unsure if he’s being treated as a guest or a criminal here. Yifan’s words don’t seem to really make sense tonight.

 

“He’s asking you if you would like to be eaten without your knowledge, you know, like how you did to the snails,” Junmyeon then explains in a whisper, a smile threatening to surface on his lips, so Yifan pinches his palm lightly. The room is silent for a few seconds before Yifan laughs it off, and starts talking about the NBA match he watched last night with Chanyeol who almost sobered up just now. Baekhyun is watching intently as Junmyeon’s face turns red when Yifan refuses to let his hand go.

 

​

​

 

“You seem happy now, hyung. I thought you’d be heartbroken after I rejected you in high school,” Baekhyun says in a whisper over the wine and the few last pieces of Yifan’s special Beggar’s Chicken. The rich fermented taste of the rice is overwhelming, but not as much as Baekhyun’s words. Yifan and Chanyeol are in the kitchen preparing the desserts and Baekhyun must’ve figured this to be the right time to start messing up with Junmyeon again.

 

“I am happy. And that was a weak attack, Baekhyun. Such a childish taunt is not going to work on me,” Junmyeon says, trying to be composed over a cup of wine. He sure has drunk a lot tonight even though he is a light drinker. Good thing the wine isn’t so strong.

 

“I’m not taunting you. I’m just saying the truth. And I guess, after you failed to have me, you found yourself a big fish, yeah? Wu Yifan, the up-and-coming young interior designer, fucker of Kim Junmyeon the perverted gay bo—”

 

BAM!

 

Somebody slammed the dinner table with a bucket of ice cream, and both Junmyeon and Baekhyun look up just to find Yifan with a tight smile on his face. Chanyeol appears from behind him, curious to know what happened.

 

“Did you enjoy the chicken, Sir Baekhyun?”

 

“Ye—yes, I did. You’re such a great cook, Yifan-hyung.” Baekhyun tries to look as calm as possible, and he fails miserably. Yifan sighs, and puts up a pretentious pout. Oh yeah, Junmyeon can see that, and he can’t wait to see what else would Yifan do.

 

“I was thinking of presenting you guys, my special guests, with something special tonight. Maybe with some smoked pork tenderloins, baked to perfection with my special blood sauce. But the pigs were very nice, and my butcher was having a hard time slaughtering them. So I decided on some poultry instead. Because you know, nothing could go wrong with birds.” He sits down and starts to scoop the vanilla-flavoured ice cream into small dessert cups Chanyeol brought together with him earlier. He hands it over to Baekhyun with a wink, and with shaky hands, Baekhyun receives it.

 

“Why birds?” Chanyeol asks innocently, helping himself for a cup of ice cream after Yifan seems to forget about him. Chuckling, Yifan cradles his chin with his palm as he props his hand on the table, watching Baekhyun swallow the ice cream as if he is eating something bitter. He might as well be.

 

“Because birds are always loud and scratchy, no matter when. Even when you’re trying to feed them. I hate birds so much, it feels like a satisfaction every time I had the chance to eat them,” he explains, stressing on the word ‘eat’ and Baekhyun almost drops his spoon.

 

“You know, because whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude.” Junmyeon says as if on cue, as if the sentence is the most natural thing to be said; edging his seat closer to where Yifan is sitting and daringly plants a kiss on his lover’s cheek. Chanyeol is howling cheerfully at the back, and Baekhyun seems to have lost his appetite.

 

Yifan slowly puts his arm around Junmyeon’s waist, and proudly nods.

 

​

​

 

Baekhyun and Chanyeol leave the dinner table at 9:30 PM, a bit earlier than planned.

 

“He says he’s not feeling very well, so I guess I need to take care of him now. Thanks for the food, Yifan, and really, your dining room is awesome. I still need to learn a lot from you,” Chanyeol says as he puts on his jacket. Baekhyun is already waiting on the front step, averting his eyes from both Yifan and Junmyeon, but still urging for Chanyeol to be faster.

 

“It’s alright, and thanks. I’ll try to host another dinner next time. It’s fun to gather like this sometimes, don’t you think, love?” he asks Junmyeon who’s leaning against the door frame, face flushed from the wine and embarrassment.

 

“Ye—yeah. It’s very nice talking to you Chanyeol. And take care of Baekhyun for me.” He says sincerely, and Baekhyun’s ears perk up to the mention of his name.

 

“Maybe I’ll cook the pigs when they’re acting up next time, Baekhyun, sir!” Yifan yells from the door, and Baekhyun nods awkwardly. Junmyeon pinches his waist while restraining himself from laughing.

 

“They’re long pigs, you know? Very lean and tender, so damn delicious,” he adds later as both the guests are stepping into the cab. They both can see Baekhyun shiver at the words and finally laughs out loud. He turns to Junmyeon who is looking at him with huge eyes of wonderment, and pulls him into a deep kiss after the door is closed.

 

“Tonight was a job very well done, Dr. Lecter,” Junmyeon whispers into his ears as they part, and his glasses are all but crooked and hair dishevelled. Yifan stares into his eyes and thinks, as if trying hard to pick another sentence from the series, and Junmyeon waits for him.

 

“Are you content, Will?”

 

“Yes, I am, Hannibal,” Junmyeon replies, eyes watching the strings of hair fall again onto Yifan’s forehead. There’s a dark feeling that surfaces inside his guts as their gazes meet, and he isn’t so sure if it’s because of the dinner or the satisfaction of scaring Baekhyun in the only way they know.

 

It feels like he wants to have all of Yifan inside his tummy now, safe and content. If only he knows that Yifan wants only the same thing. Devouring each other.

 

“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.” Yifan smirks, and Junmyeon knows exactly how this feels.

 

“It’s beautiful.”

 

It feels like they’re being thrown off of a cliff on a stormy night in each other’s embrace, unknowing of the end.