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Weeding the rest of the flowerbed is faster with two pairs of hands at work. Chanyeol runs back and forth carrying water from the house down to the flowers, and Junmyeon shows him how to turn over the soil. (“Don’t eat any when I’m not looking,” Junmyeon warns. It’s cute that Chanyeol doesn’t realise he’s teasing and solemnly swears not to.)


There’s sweat stinging in Junmyeon’s eyes and a long smear of dirt down his arm after he’s wiped it away. The hair at his nape is in damp spikes. It’s been quite some time since he’s worked this long and hard in the garden, and even if he’s getting tired it feels good. Like he’s done a decent days work, not just kept himself busy.

Pulling off his gloves and climbing to his feet, Junmyeon turns to seek out the glow of red he knows will be nearby. “Chanyeollie, we should..” Found him. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, staring down into it, hands balled tight inside his sleeves. “Your old home,” Junmyeon says softly, stepping nearer. He’s spent a lot of time in that exact spot himself. He can see that Chanyeol’s mouth is drawn down.

“My old home.” Chanyeol steps from the grass edge into the earth. He turns a few times, gently treading the ground with a heel until he’s found the exact spot. For a moment he seems agitated, shifting his weight and pulling at the sweater, like he can’t get it comfortable. It’s an unnatural thing for him to wear. It can’t feel good being home but the wrong shape to fit.

Junmyeon toys with his apron cords, unsure what to say. It’s his fault Chanyeol no longer has roots. Before he comes up with anything, Chanyeol calls for him. His arms are open and Junmyeon steps into the soil with him, wraps an arm around his waist.

Chanyeol tucks Junmyeon in under his chin. “I missed this view.”

“I’m sure it’s nice.“ Rather than attempting to look, Junmyeon presses his cheek into the fabric of the sweater. It’s starting to pill with wear. Junmyeon rests against Chanyeol’s chest, listening to the way he creaks in place of a heartbeat. It feels bold and entirely familiar at once; Chanyeol’s always been willing to intimacy. Camellias are symbolic of eternal love, after all. “Chanyeollie, I’m sorry. For not appreciating what you did.” Junmyeon squeezes his solid body, that strange feeling of shifting sand under his skin as Chanyeol squeezes back. “I won’t make you regret it anymore.”

“I haven’t regretted it,” Chanyeol replies easily, voice thick. “I just miss it. You can miss something but not want it back. You can feel that, right?”

“Of course you can.”

“Ok. Good.” Chanyeol’s arms tighten just a little more. It shouldn’t have taken this long for Junmyeon to realise that he smells of fresh earth, not his flowers.

Maybe five minutes, maybe thirty, Junmyeon doesn’t know how much longer they stand there. By the time they start clearing up to head inside it’s getting dark.



🌼



It’s new podcast day. The life in China series - the murder mystery ended a few weeks back and Junmyeon hasn’t found a replacement yet. Mostly because he’s selective, partly because a certain someone is eating into his quiet time. The China episodes are bitesize and update four times a week. He downloads them all on Fridays to listen to over the weekend.

That’s the plan, anyway. The usual plan. Juice, podcast, nap on the couch. It’s a good routine - it gets the weekend over and done with faster, and Junmyeon has something to mail Zitao about once he’s done listening.

So Junmyeon’s got his juice, the episodes are lined up and ready. There’s just one thing missing.

“For something that doesn’t require sleep you spend a lot of time lying down.”

“There are two couches,” Chanyeol protests. Him and his long twisty vine limbs are taking up the entire thing, as he often is. His feet hang over the end unless he curls up. Reminds Junmyeon of a plant too heavy and long for its grow bag.

“So you won’t mind letting me have my favourite one,” Junmyeon presses, standing his ground. It’s comfier. The other couch had an unfortunate incident involving an insect and Zitao taking a running jump. “Chanyeol, come on, move. I’m holding things.” He lifts the glass. His tablet, headphones attached and looped around it, is hooked tight to his chest with the other arm. Somehow this means turning and sitting on the other couch is out of the question.

Chanyeol doesn’t entirely buy it either, but he still sits up. And sidles over, curls his legs in tight, and.. ah. So that’s how it’s going to be. “Sit, sit,” he encourages, reaching out for Junmyeon. Who is actually somewhat nervous of drink spills and tablet damage, so allows Chanyeol to pry both out of his hands.

“What are we doing?” Junmyeon asks warily, but Chanyeol’s already untangling the headphone cord with enthusiasm, so it’s not much of a mystery.

“I want to hear about China too.”

Until now Chanyeol’s mostly just left Junmyeon to his routines, other than trailing around after him at times. But until now Junmyeon wouldn’t have let Chanyeol disrupt one without biting his head off for it.

“I have relatives there,” Chanyeol offers as explanation.

True.

“And only your friend in China knows about me, right? So when we go to visit I should at least know something in return. That’s polite.”

Also true. In honesty Junmyeon doesn’t need much convincing - the guilt of how eager Chanyeol is to join in is doing a good enough job. “If you want to listen you’ll have to give that back,” he gestures to the tablet protectively caged against Chanyeol’s chest with his elbows.

Bony probably isn’t the right word to use for Chanyeol, considering he could be made of twigs for all they know. The tablet is balanced between Junmyeon’s right leg and Chanyeol’s left. His elbow, shoulder and ribs dig into Junmyeon as he watches him navigate the menu by colour. Junmyeon’s knee presses into Chanyeol’s long thigh, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Junmyeon offers Chanyeol an earbud. “Like I’m ever going to go to China again,” he pouts, fiddling with the cord to untangle his side. Chanyeol seems a little bemused by what exactly happens with headphones, so with some fumbling and a few distressed sounds, Junmyeon gets it in for him.

“That’s why we’d go together.” Chanyeol gingerly touches where the bud disappears into his ear. He’s seen Junmyeon do this enough times and knows in theory how it works, but in practice it’s..strange.

“I’ve left the house on my own maybe two times since,” Junmyeon gestures vaguely to his face. Since then. He prods Chanyeol’s arm. “And you’ve never been further than this place.”

“Taozi wants you to go,” Chanyeol protests, knowing that’s digging at a soft spot. Junmyeon’s frowning mostly at how strange it is to hear someone else refer to his baby with affection. Chanyeol’s vocabulary is made up of what Junmyeon fed him, though, so. And he isn’t wrong, but Junmyeon doesn’t want to get into that now.

“Ready?” he asks. Chanyeol nods. Junmyeon hits play, and Chanyeol yelps, nearly leaping out of his seat. Junmyeon steadies the tablet between them and elbows Chanyeol back. “I don’t want any cracks in the screen. Sit still.”

“But, the,” he sputters.

“Just listen to her talking,” Junmyeon shushes, “You’ll get used to it.”

“Ok,” Chanyeol says with wary determination, stiffly settling back. He removes Junmyeon’s elbow from his gut and keeps his grip on Junmyeon’s arm. Each time the speaker changes or music plays he squeezes a little harder.

Junmyeon just shuts his eyes and listens, though soon the warmth of Chanyeol against his side makes him sleepy. Too sleepy to focus on what’s being said anymore, and eventually too sleepy to stop his head from dropping onto Chanyeol’s shoulder. Company really isn’t so bad after all.



🌼



“Oh- woah,” comes Chanyeol’s voice from behind Junmyeon. Before he reacts Chanyeol’s already leant around and pulled the kettle upright and out of his hands. “Hot,” Chanyeol scolds softly, “You can’t be so heavy handed.”

“But I am.” Junmyeon frowns at his cup on the counter. Has it overflowed? He tilts his head in hope of any water around it catching the light.

“And how many times have you burned yourself?”

The answer is none in the past three months, because it’s so impossible to see where the waterline is Junmyeon just gave up making coffee. He’s not sure why he felt like trying again today, but his perception evidently hasn’t improved. “I time how long its pouring. It..sort of works.”

Chanyeol frowns. “Surely there’s an easier way.”

Junmyeon wipes the countertop over with the edge of his shirt just to make sure. “They make..things, yeah.” He knows what he’s letting himself in for by admitting this, but, “The hospital sent a letter with who to contact about it.”

And as expected, Chanyeol’s whole body suddenly seems to vibrate with excitement.

“No,” Junmyeon gets in first. “No, I don’t want any.”

“Why.” Chanyeol is suddenly right up against Junmyeon’s back. He leans against the counter with both hands, bracketing Junmyeon in. “Tell me a really good reason why.”

Junmyeon attempts to puff up defensively, but with Chanyeol towering over him and only feeble excuses to offer all he can do is scowl. “I don’t..”

“You’re mumbling.”

“I don’t.” Ugh. Yes, he’s being stupid and stubborn and it’s not a good reason. “I don’t want my home to look like I don’t know how to live in it. It won’t look like a normal kitchen if there are things stuck to everything.”

Chanyeol hums disapprovingly.

“It’s embarrassing not being able to do really basic things,” Junmyeon adds in his defence, and Chanyeol gives his back a consoling pat. He knows. But he’s still not letting Junmyeon get away with being petulant any more.

“So you’re telling me you can wear an apron to garden but can’t use a cup with a sticker on it?”

Junmyeon shifts uncomfortably.

“Maybe this would be a good first step,” Chanyeol encourages. He doesn’t have to add to you not being a huge pain in the ass for Junmyeon to distinctly get the feeling that’s what he means.


At some point over the following day the letter appears on the coffee table, still in a torn envelope with the hospital’s friendly logo in the top corner. Junmyeon is conveniently napping upstairs when Chanyeol finds it.

The date on the large print letter is from four months ago. This was supposed to be his first step when he was released from hospital, not five months on when he’s switched to plastic cups and cold drinks. Better late than never, though, and thanks to Junmyeon teaching Chanyeol how to send texts and mails for him, he knows exactly what to do.




🌼



“I have a problem,” Chanyeol announces as he walks in from the garden.

Junmyeon looks over, spoon stuck in his mouth. “I don’t like those before breakfast,” he scrapes around for the last of the yogurt in the little pot, “Problems.”

“That is the problem. There’s no breakfast.” Chanyeol pouts and sets his empty bowl on the counter.

Oh. Well, that is a problem. “You should have told me it was running so low.”

“The bag tore and I didn’t notice. I’m sure you don’t want the neighbours to see me eating out of a puddle.” Chanyeol rests on his elbows. Even if he’s looking longingly at Junmyeon’s strawberry yogurt it’s not like he could stomach eating it, though Junmyeon sets it aside in sympathy. “Can Jongdae get more?”

Junmyeon hums. “I wouldn’t bother any of them on a Sunday. And orders online don’t get processed until Monday.” And wait, that’s a good point. Chanyeol only took two days to get sick last time. Junmyeon reaches across for his phone. “We might have to do something drastic,” he says, and for a moment Chanyeol looks worried that he’s going to be sent out to the puddle with a spoon and straw.

Junmyeon pulls up a map on his phone and Chanyeol peers curiously over his shoulder as he types.

“I could probably get by on what’s in the garden,” he offers. This all looks suspiciously like Junmyeon’s considering going outside. On his own. That would be very drastic, even in Chanyeol’s plans to get him doing things.

“I’m not making you eat out the flower bed, Chanyeol. There’s pellets in it and.. ah,” he squints, tapping and pinching the screen, “This says there’s a place-“

“Twelve minutes away!” Chanyeol reads ahead, “Doesn’t Kyungsoo usually drive you somewhere a long way away?”

He does. They make a day of it. Junmyeon’s never considered that it isn’t by necessity.

“Are you sure about this?” It means Junmyeon leaving the house without one of his friends to do all of the..whatever it is people do. “Sorry. It was my fault for being careless.”

Junmyeon shakes his head. He’s really, really not, but what other option is there? “Come with me?” he asks before his brain has time to consider the question. “If you want, that is. I mean, you should start seeing the world if you’re going to live here, right?”

Chanyeol bounces on his toes. Outside sounds exciting, and getting Junmyeon out there would be a real feat. “Are you really sure?”

Is he? About any of this? “Really,” Junmyeon says uncertainly. How much could go wrong between a partially-sighted recluse and a spirit who’s never seen the world beyond this house. “Just try not to make it too obvious you haven’t seen most of it before, I guess. And if people stare at your hair at least they won’t notice me falling over my own feet.”

“I wouldn’t let you!” With his usual excess of enthusiasm, Chanyeol slams his hands harder than necessary on the table top. But Junmyeon’s less interested in his heroics than another issue he’s just realised. Feet.


Finding shoes for Chanyeol delays them by a good fifteen minutes. (He doesn’t need them, as such. Junmyeon struggles to explain why it’s not socially acceptable to go outside barefoot. Chanyeol doesn’t like the sound of this society thing at all.)

There are one pair of Zitao’s somewhere in the depths of Junmyeon’s closet, from when he visited last year and told Junmyeon some time later that he’d stashed most of his luggage to make space for what he was taking back. Junmyeon sits on the bed and Chanyeol digs through clothes and boxes for any shoes that may be swimming around on the floor. Three of Junmyeon’s, and eventually a larger pair, new and not worn in.


It’s with trepidation that Junmyeon opens up the map and takes his first step outside. Same old outside as always, just like when they pick him up for appointments or drive him out to somewhere for the day. Junmyeon moved in a few years before the whole incident, but it’s really been so long he’s not sure he remembers the exact routes that lead out from here.

This is potentially far too overwhelming of a step. Junmyeon taps the side of his phone with a nail, wondering if he overestimated himself when he set his mind on this. But then Chanyeol, still struggling with not feeling the floor under his feet, nearly falls down the path.

“It hurts,” he whines as Junmyeon takes his arm and helps him regain his balance. “I don’t like it. I’ve only had feet for five minutes, I didn’t know they could be so painful.”

“I think you’re probably going to find this harder than I am,” Junmyeon laughs. It’s midday and quiet out on the street. It’s warm, and maybe you can never say the air is good when you’re still on the outskirts of a city, but it’s an improvement on the four walls of his dusty home.

Grumbling, Chanyeol practices heel-toe, toe-heel steps to get used to the feel of separation between his feet and the ground. “So what do I need to do?”

Right. They’re on a mission. “So, look, this little flashing dot is us,” Junmyeon holds his phone out, and Chanyeol opens his palms to receive it. “And as we move, the dot moves. And the line is the direction we need to go in.”

“So we just walk so the dot follows the line?” Chanyeol squints at it, turning on the spot until the pointed edge of the circle is facing the thick blue line on the map.

“Basically.” Junmyeon barely resists the temptation to cling to Chanyeol as he takes a step forward. Their surroundings are familiar, but kind of like he’s looking at it all through a frosted pane of glass. “But it won’t be quite as simple as the map. It can’t show where there’s obstacles. And, ah-” He does reach for Chanyeol now, pulling at his elbow and slowing him down. “I need to teach you basic road safety.”


The line on the map leads them to a place entirely unlike where Junmyeon has visited with Kyungsoo. It’s two stores knocked through to make one large, crowded space, and judging by the weathering of the sign it’s the oldest establishment on the street. Everything live or messy seems to be outside, spilling out over the boundaries of the store front. It’s probably why the place is located away from a main road.

“This is nicer,” Chanyeol says as they walk between the tables of flowers, and Junmyeon has to agree. It’s quiet round here, shaded by trees. The rows of potted flowers smell sweet and good. Chanyeol isn’t keen on cars. Or the sheer volume of brick and concrete everywhere. “There’s so little nature just, around,” he says mournfully, “No wonder there are so many bad people.”

It feels homely compared to the neat, formal layout of the place Kyungsoo drives them to. There are a lot of plants, numerous types of bird feeders, a few garden ornaments (Junmyeon doesn’t trip, but after bumping his toes against one he remembers to slow down), and no obvious sacks of soil.

With his fingertips on the edge of a table, Junmyeon carefully picks his way around to explore further. After a long moment staring at an unidentifiable object (an empty fish tank, he realises eventually), Junmyeon looks back to where he left Chanyeol. It’s a strange feeling being out with someone that isn’t Kyungsoo, Baekhyun or Jongdae. Well. It’s a strange feeling being out at all, to be fair.

In his whole life Junmyeon’s probably only been approached in the street a handful of times, yet it’s hard to convince himself it’s irrational to be so afraid someone will, for some reason, need him for the sight he doesn’t have. Someone will catch him out, realise he’s not like them.

For a split second he’s searching for Chanyeol. Panic floods him, then he finds the flash of red. Chanyeol’s crouched down. They’ll have to get him some clothes of his own; even Junmyeon can see the sweater stretched uncomfortably across his broad shoulders. He’s eye level with a pot of geraniums. Whether he’s making conversation with it or just looking, Junmyeon catches the side of his foot on an obstacle he’d entirely forgotten to watch out for and ungracefully stumbles into their moment and onto Chanyeol.

It startles Chanyeol but he reacts quickly, even if from his knees the best he can do is grip Junmyeon’s forearm and push back against him. It keeps him on his feet.

“Sorry, sorry. Did I hurt you? I didn’t kick you did I?” Junmyeon frets. He rubs the back of Chanyeol’s hand where it’s wrapped entirely around his wrist, trying to soothe the shock out of him. “I didn’t see..” Of course he didn’t see. He flushes hot and pink, but Chanyeol just shakes his head.

“This was kind of..” he grunts as he pulls himself up to his feet, “This was a challenging first outing, huh? There’s things everywhere.”

“I’m a chronic try-hard.” Junmyeon pushes his hair out of his eyes. His stomach is churning with the remnants of panic and then the jolt from tripping. “Always have been, but I didn’t intend to be for this.”

Chanyeol pats his shoulder. “See? You haven’t changed all that much.” Junmyeon huffs, but Chanyeol’s crouched down again before he can retaliate. “I found- it’s here out of the way.”

Chanyeol hauls out a sack similar in colour and design to the kind Junmyeon usually has. Off-brand, maybe. There’s a bright orange sticker in the centre, price hand written.

“Good thing you brought me!” Chanyeol’s busy pushing and pulling at the contents of the sack to even the weight out and doesn’t notice how Junmyeon’s started fidgeting. “No way you could have carried this back.”

“No,” Junmyeon mutters, distracted. He has other issues to deal with before thinking about how to get it home.


“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon says automatically. He’s always slow - getting his wallet, counting money? How did he think he’d manage that? Chanyeol’s busy outside, but it’s not like he could ask him to help anyway. He’d probably sooner eat a note that know it’s value.

“You can..” the girl hesitantly holds out her hands, small and pressed together, palms up. Her cheeks have large circles of orange makeup. She’s probably the kind of girl Junmyeon would have smiled at to get a smile in return, but right now he’s pretty sure his face is as heavy with blush as hers. “Have you paid like this before?”

Junmyeon shakes his head. Flustered, he offers his whole wallet. She apologises and quickly taps his card against the panel, and then Junmyeon feels warm with embarrassment. Of course he’s paid like that before.

Outside Chanyeol is patiently waiting, the sack of his meals for the next month slung over his shoulder. In a weird way Junmyeon’s not so worried about people seeing him, if it’s seeing that he has someone for company. (Ok it’s kind of in a gay way. It’s not as easy to convince himself everyone who sees him will identify him as a useless waste of space with a big handsome guy eagerly tagging along at his side.)

“Did you do the thing?” Chanyeol beams so brightly Junmyeon can make out the glint of his teeth, “I dunno exactly what you had to do, but! You did it?”

“I did it.” Junmyeon flexes his fingers. Wow. He really did just. Do it. “I mean.. I was messing up, but she helped. And made me realise there’s a much easier way to do it in future.”

Chanyeol hefts the sack of soil higher onto his shoulder with a huff. “Yeah? Where to next?”

“Home, I think.” Junmyeon gently tugs Chanyeol’s sleeve to get him facing the right direction. Outside is starting to feel too big for one Junmyeon and his little flower. “No more adventures for today.”


After dumping his soil outside the kitchen door and scooping a few handfuls into his mouth, Chanyeol collapses straight onto the couch. The world is very, very big. And noisy, and dirty. “I want to say that was fun, but I can’t decide if that’s the right word.”

“An experience,” Junmyeon offers as he follows through from the kitchen. He’s got a glass of water that Chanyeol gratefully takes from him and gulps down. Soil sticks in his mouth when he eats it dry. “I’m proud of you, Chanyeollie,” Junmyeon says, “You did really well for your first time out there.”

“You too. I mean- not for, obviously, it wasn’t your first time out. Yeah.” Chanyeol shakes his head, smiling. “You did a lot of things.”

In honesty Junmyeon hasn’t made a start on processing that yet. He’ll have a more interesting update mail for Zitao tonight than usual, that’s for sure.

Chanyeol leans forward, and Junmyeon hears the empty glass thunk down on the table. Then abruptly everything shifts. Junmyeon yelps at the unexpected tug to his waist. He’s pulled off his feet, and by the time the world has stopped spinning he realises he’s sprawled across Chanyeol’s lap.

“That was exhausting,” Chanyeol groans as though that somehow justifies why he needs Junmyeon in his lap, in his arms. He sighs, and Junmyeon hums in agreement with the overall sentiment of deflating. He shifts and presses his face into Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“I did, didn’t I. Do things.”

“So many things,” Chanyeol agrees. He doesn’t know the finer details of what those things are, but he doesn’t need to to be proud. He cradles the back of Junmyeon’s head, holding him tighter. “For someone who spent so long not doing any of them, you did a lot at once.”

Yeah. Junmyeon sighs shallowly, then fills his lungs with a deeper breath just to release it and feel the lack of tension. It’s a relief. He’d think he feels almost normal, if he wasn’t in a highly not-normal situation. Affection comes easy to Chanyeol now Junmyeon is more open to it, and for a long moment he just rests against him, light with relaxation as Chanyeol’s fingers comb through his hair.

“Chanyeollie,” Junmyeon barely attempts to lift away, but Chanyeol preemptively tightens his hold. That’s- ok. They can talk like this. “I don’t know how to make it up to you. That I was so awful to you before. I’ve..” Actually, maybe it’s easier talking about it this way. Junmyeon can close his eyes. The fabric of Chanyeol’s sweater feels rough and worn against his cheek. “The last few days, I’ve really.. things haven’t felt so bad. Because you’ve been here keeping me company and helping me out with things. It’s what you’ve been trying to do from the start, and I know you always had good intentions and I was just..”

“Humans are a lot more complicated than I imagined,” Chanyeol says, “The world is. I think maybe we just didn’t understand where each other was coming from very well in the beginning.”

It’s never really been in Junmyeon’s nature to be forgiving. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to imagine why Chanyeol is willing to just move forward. However much Junmyeon thinks about all of this it’s hard to imagine why of all people he was the one this happened to.

“Anyway,” Chanyeol’s hand drops from his hair, then there’s a long moment of silence and no contact. There’s some finality to the way he pats Junmyeon’s back. “You’re making it up to me by doing the things.”

“Mm.” It’s tempting to stay. But the whole day can’t be spent on just this outing and the consequences of it. Junmyeon has puttering to do, and now Chanyeol isn’t preventing him from moving there’s no excuse not to get started. Though actually, there is one more task Junmyeon’s been thinking over.

Careful of where he’s resting his weight and with some helping shoves, Junmyeon climbs back to his feet. He claps a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder, smiling down at the puzzled frown shot up to him.

“I know someone who needs some new clothes if they’re going to start going outside.”



🌼



A sound that isn’t Junmyeon’s alarm wakes him. It takes a moment for his brain to engage enough to realise it’s the ring tone, and another to figure out that he’s not making much progress on moving because he’s tangled in Chanyeol’s arms.

“Phone,” he groans, pushing at whatever his hand comes into contact with to try and free himself. Has Chanyeol grown four more limbs in the night or something? “Phone, Chanyeol, the-“

He breaks free and falls onto his side. Chanyeol rolls along after him, slotting himself up against Junmyeon’s back. Chanyeol’s arm curls around his waist just as he answers the call, and he stumbles a little in greeting Baekhyun.

“Yes, yeah, everything is fine,” Junmyeon clears his throat. He can’t exactly say he’s being spooned by a yokai. “It’s just- early, you know how I am in the morning.”

Chanyeol doesn’t sleep, so it’s not like they end up like this by accident. It’d be a groundless accusation to make, though - Junmyeon’s clingy and Chanyeol seems fairly moral, so it’s probably not a one-sided thing. Chanyeol’s strong and solid and Junmyeon’s a pretty hopeless gay as it is, let alone one that’s been touch starved for going on a goddamn year. So he doesn’t elbow him away. Maybe he even encourages Chanyeol to tuck him in under his chin. Maybe.

“What did Baekhyun want this early?” Chanyeol asks once they’ve finished talking. He doesn’t make any move to let go, so neither does Junmyeon.

“Date,” Junmyeon yawns, dropping his phone beside the pillow. “His husband is away and he’s apparently incapable of walking the dogs without company.”

Chanyeol chins at his hair. “You’re going?”

It’s not the usual kind of thing they’d invite him to do, what with the whole being outside thing and the trip hazards. After the retelling of his soil acquiring adventures maybe they feel they can be less cautious. That’s..really nice. And he’d love to spend time with the dogs. “Mm, he said he’d call back soon to agree times and things.” It feels too good here tucked against Chanyeol’s chest, and for a moment Junmyeon thinks he’d rather stay just like this.

His thoughts are derailed by a whine close to his ear. “No~” Chanyeol buries in against Junmyeon’s shoulder, squeezing him tight. That’s. Ok.

Belatedly Chanyeol seems to catch himself, and Junmyeon doesn’t get another word in between him rambling about needing to open the blinds downstairs and get breakfast. Chanyeol’s clumsy footsteps sound all the way down the stairs. Well. Junmyeon sits up, pushes the covers off and shivers. It’s a colder morning than he’d realised.


“You’re so busy recently.”

Chanyeol’s pretty busy himself. Since he taught himself how to cook rice he’s more or less added it into their daily routine. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and he holds his hand over the rim of the bowl as he pours out cloudy water.

Junmyeon’s weighing up whether that was critical or congratulatory when Chanyeol turns to him, smile so broad Junmyeon can make out the white of his teeth.

“That’s so great! You seem to always be meeting your friends now and thinking up things you want to do. I knew once you got started you’d get enthusiastic about it.”

Ah, good.

“Anyway, there’ll be rice for when you get back,” Chanyeol states the obvious, “But if you want to stay with Baekhyun for longer that’s ok, it’ll keep. I’ll learn how to make more things eventually,” he says sheepishly, picking wet grains from the palm of his hand, and Junmyeon shakes his head.

“If you have rice you don’t need anything else to be happy.” It’s good to have any kind of hot homemade food that isn’t instant from a packet. He’s already getting used to rice every day, appreciative that Chanyeol is so keen on learning to perfect it.

When the doorbell rings Chanyeol is still in the kitchen, though he startles and steps away from anything that could potentially make a sound. If Baekhyun heard strange noises coming from inside the house there’s no way he’d leave without investigating.

Junmyeon steps in from the hallway, smoothing down the front of his shirt. “Am I presentable?” The dress shirt clearly hasn’t been ironed, and the sleeves hang down to his knuckles. Chanyeol cuffs them for him while Junmyeon reminds him about his water, says he shouldn’t spend all day with the tablet an inch from his face even if he is keen to learn.

“Take care,” Chanyeol says like always, tugging the shoulder seams just-so. He looks a little..off. Which, you know, for Junmyeon to see must mean he is. But he smiles his usual big smile, so Junmyeon returns it.

“I will. Thank you in advance for the food, I’ll look forward to it.”

Something definitely feels different, but not unnervingly so. Just..

This time they both startle when the bell rings. “Go, go,” Chanyeol shoos Junmyeon back into the hallway. “Take care.”

Junmyeon laughs. “I’ll take extra care, don’t worry.” He raises his hand in a small wave, and Chanyeol leans in and kisses his forehead. Junmyeon’s getting used to that, too.



🌼



“Little flower,” Junmyeon says one night. He doesn’t say it often. “I’ve been thinking.”

Chanyeol looks up from the tablet, ears pink-tipped, and blinks owlishly. On evenings Junmyeon can stay awake long enough this is generally what they do - Junmyeon curls on his favourite side of the couch and listens to podcasts or audiobooks, Chanyeol sits opposite and studies (or plays games. It’s still studying - improves his coordination, or something.)

Should I be worried, Chanyeol means to say, but Junmyeon’s never looked at him like this. Not since he’s been in this human shell. His mouth just hangs.

“You’re too big to hold how I used to, but I still can.” Junmyeon pats his knee, like he’s encouraging a puppy to clamber up. He offers Chanyeol a reassuring smile. Doesn’t need clear vision to see he’s doing that sticky-out thing with his limbs, unsure what to do with himself. “Hold you, that is,” he confirms. “I can still tell you how beautiful you are. If you want. I wasn’t sure if you’d feel differently now you’ve been human for a while.”

“I’m not a human,” Chanyeol mumbles, hot face lowered. He seems to do that a lot - suddenly heating up like the sides of the rice cooker -  when Junmyeon’s nice to him. Something else to research. “Still a flower inside. I hope you’ll still think of me that way.”

Junmyeon nods in understanding. “I’d like to hold you, if you’d still like to be held.” All he can do is hope he’s been reading this right.

It’s one step from couch to couch. Chanyeol unfurls slowly, one hesitant foot to the floor and then the other. “I don’t know what- I didn’t have these in the way before,” he limply holds his hands up. His arms, his long, long legs.

It’s not the most graceful thing, fitting all of Chanyeol into Junmyeon’s small lap. Junmyeon laughs. It’s dim and Chanyeol’s close and moving too much to focus on, so by feel he helps guide Chanyeol’s long limbs around himself. He’s heavy, but Junmyeon can bear his weight while he figures out how to bend his knees into the cushions to support himself.

“This isn’t much like before,” Chanyeol huffs. Junmyeon’s hips are narrow and squeezed tight between his thighs. He rested his arms loosely around Junmyeon’s shoulders because that felt like the only obvious place they could go without getting in the way. Awkwardness is a distinctly human emotion, but it’s probably what he’s experiencing right now.

And in fairness, yeah, Junmyeon hadn’t entirely prepared to be straddled like this. But Chanyeol’s good at curling in small, and once Junmyeon’s hands are on his back he melts right down, and it feels just a little more familiar to be holding him. “Seems like it’s been so long since I last told you how pretty you are. And how happy you make me.”

“It’s been a really long time,” Chanyeol’s voice is dropped deep, mumbling, “Because I stopped making you happy and started annoying you instead.”

Well, there is that.

“But now,” Junmyeon smooths his palms over the broad plane of Chanyeol’s back. This is a little..strange, a little closer than they’ve been. But it doesn’t feel bad. Anything but, so Junmyeon doesn’t stop himself from relaxing into the warmth. Resting his forehead against Chanyeol’s shoulder and closing his eyes. “You’ve always had my happiness in mind, even when I didn’t know. And then even when I was being ignorant to it..”

When Junmyeon sighs Chanyeol feels the heat against his chest. His face is burning, but with Junmyeon under him and so much smaller there’s nowhere to hide. This didn’t go so well the first time, so he focuses over Junmyeon’s head, looking out to the kitchen. “I love you. Junmyeon, I’ve loved you so, so.. I couldn’t wait to be able to tell you. I think maybe it was selfish too, the.. I did wish to be human so I could care for you. That was why I did it, honest. But I wanted to be able to talk to you, too. I wanted to tell you I loved you in a way that you’d hear. And, and..”

Chanyeol pauses, and Junmyeon looks up at him. Red hair and pink ears, pink in his cheeks and down his neck.

“And I wanted to do it before my flowers fell this year. You know, how they all just drop at once like that, I was so worried how you’d feel once my season was over, and..” Chanyeol bites into his lip.

“And?” Junmyeon prompts gently.

“I mean, the, there’s..” Junmyeon’s hands are surprisingly strong for how small he is. Chanyeol’s missed being in them so much it’s making his head swim. “There’s..you know, there’s other flowers as bright as me. Like, other colours, and bigger and you’d have seen them just as well. B-but! They wouldn’t have understood. They wouldn’t have listened to you, and I, I was worried about not being able to see that you were ok, it wasn’t just..” Jealousy is a very bad human emotion, and Chanyeol’s ashamed to have found that that feeling even has a name.

“It’s ok,” Junmyeon laughs, “Chanyeollie, it’s ok. That’s sweet. It’s understandable you were concerned about being replaced.”

Chanyeol makes a little sound of complaint, at lack of words for exactly what he’s disagreeing with.

“You’re my beautiful little flower,” Junmyeon shushes. It takes one misaimed swipe for him to run his fingers through Chanyeol’s soft hair, and it’s not the same as before. It maybe lacks the intimacy of thumbing the silk folds of petals, but as human interactions go, this is about as intimate as Junmyeon’s been with anyone in recent memory. “And even if the guys had brought me new flowers every week until you’d bloomed again, it would only have been because I was waiting for you. I wouldn’t have had anything to say to them.”

Chanyeol clears his throat. “I’d pretend to believe that if I thought you were saying it for your own benefit.”

Junmyeon smiles, then it builds to a laugh. “I’ll admit I’m chatty. But you have always been special, Chanyeol. Nothing would have replaced you.”

Chanyeol makes a small, doubtful sound. His fingers are linked behind Junmyeon, twisting together uncertainly.

“What I said before,” Junmyeon rubs between his shoulder blades, “It was true, but I didn’t mean it as harshly as it came out. I just meant..loving a human is different to loving a flower, you know? Even if you’re the same spirit. It was a big change. Humans come with a lot more context.”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol lowers his head, bashful. “I kind of underestimated exactly how many humans there are..and that some of them aren’t nice. Not that it’s fair of you to think I’m like a human! But, I think I understand better now, why it’s more complicated.”

“I’m glad,” Junmyeon says, “That you understand that.” And Chanyeol curls in tighter around him, squeezing, warm cheek pressed to Junmyeon’s hair. Junmyeon understands his little flower better, too, and he’s glad for that, too.



🌼



Junmyeon would hesitate to say he’s excited about visiting a convenience store, but.. well, yeah, he is.

“My mother started letting me go alone when I was 8,” Junmyeon tells Chanyeol as they walk. He wasn’t allowed soda and was a boringly obedient kid, buying lunch instead of snacks like he was told, but he’d just enjoy looking up at the shelves. He felt so achieved when he handed over the money and walked back home carrying a bag all of his own.

“How old were you when we met?”

“A lot older than that,” Junmyeon laughs. They’re walking intentionally close and his shoulder bumps Chanyeol every few steps. “I wonder how old you are? You’d already grown big when I moved in.”

“Dunno,” Chanyeol replies vaguely, focused on the road ahead of them. Chanyeol’s still undergoing training of sorts at how to safely navigate the world (for himself and Junmyeon), but roads and cars he picked up on pretty fast. Horrible loud stinky things. “It says we can walk,” he tells Junmyeon as they approach the curb, looping their forearms to guide him across.

“Do you remember who lived there before me?” Junmyeon asks. His fingers are curled tight in Chanyeol’s sleeve. “Maybe they planted you.”

“Dunno,” Chanyeol shrugs. “Will there be water where we’re going?”

Junmyeon drops his hold on Chanyeol’s arm gradually, brushing his fingers over the back of his hand. “Thirsty again already?” he frowns. They’ve adapted the routine so Chanyeol gets watered at the same time Junmyeon takes his medication, plus an extra glass mid-afternoon. “Are you feeling ok?”

“Yes. Yeah, fine. Maybe I just..absorb it faster if we’re outside, or something,” Chanyeol offers feebly. He’d just very much like to change subject. Thankfully Junmyeon isn’t difficult to distract when they’re out and there’s so much else to process.

“There’ll be lots of water.” Junmyeon presses into Chanyeol’s side to give the blurry figures ahead a wide berth when they pass each other. It was strange, moving to a quieter area when he’d always lived in the heart of a city, but even imagining trying to navigate such crowded streets gives him the shudders. He smiles up at Chanyeol. “Maybe it’ll be extra good for you, the kind they sell has minerals and things.”

“Maybe.”

Junmyeon can’t tell if Chanyeol is smiling back.


Even if Junmyeon hasn’t visited a store in months (all his groceries are ordered online or appear via Jongdae), nothing ever really changes. There’s a banner above the door for a promotion, and the pink and white writing is sticking up from the ends of aisles on big signs. The bright shelves and music drifting down from the ceiling is reassuring, in a way - even the hospital is a recognisable space, but it’s not necessarily a comfort just to be able to find your way around.

Luckily Junmyeon can navigate this familiar space easily. Chanyeol’s intrigued and distracted by pretty much everything, and somewhere around the freezers of ice cream Junmyeon loses him entirely. But that’s ok - it’s not exactly a large enough space for them to get separated for long.

It’s a kind of strange experience being somewhere he knows so well after all this time. It’s almost disappointing that everything is blurred and foggy, seeing old things anew and being reminded that this is how they are now. He squints hard. The limited soda flavour is mango. He hated it when it ran a few years back, but he’s here and seeing it for himself and that almost feels like good enough cause to buy it anyway.

The mystery of where Chanyeol’s disappeared to comes to an abrupt end when warm hands suddenly clasp down on Junmyeon’s shoulders. He startles, and behind him Chanyeol says, “Excuse us.” A gentle tug to the side and a woman steps past, ducking her head in apology.

Junmyeon flushes hot across the back of his neck. “I didn’t know I was in the way.”

“No worries,” Chanyeol says. He drums his fingers against Junmyeon’s shoulders, and Junmyeon looks up at him and thinks how stunningly bright his hair is under these lights. “Everyone must get in the way sometimes.”

That’s true. And though Junmyeon is more conscious of how much space he’s taking up while he slowly sifts through items for the familiar packaging he’s looking for, it’s no less uncomfortable the second time.

Junmyeon steps back from the chilled meals straight onto someone’s foot. He startles, face filling with heat. From all he can see when he gets his footing and turns it was a teenage boy. A tall dark blob (hood pulled up, maybe?) who mumbles in response to Junmyeon’s flustered apology and darts away down an aisle.

By the time Junmyeon’s acquired all three items he wanted, plus a small bottle of water for Chanyeol, he’s tired. Condensation forms on the water, sticking the bag to it. Wrapping it separately so the other items won’t get wet at least gives the old man behind the counter something to politely busy himself with. Between the two of them, Junmyeon squinting at the colour of the coins in his palm and Chanyeol dutifully picking out the ones he says, they eventually have enough change for the money tray.

Chanyeol may not particularly understand the concept of queuing, but hooking an arm around Junmyeon and getting him away from the small line of people behind them asap seems a good idea. He’s had enough experience of seeing a human that isn’t in a good mood.

“I feel too tired to walk home,” Junmyeon mumbles as he’s led away.

His energy drains at an alarming rate anyway, but feeling has a tendency to exhaust him too. Aside from the few little bumps, he’s basically set a personal best for how long he’s been excited today. No wonder he needs to lie down. He still wants to carry the bag home, gripping the handles tight when Chanyeol offers to take it.


“I realised something.”

Chanyeol looks down at Junmyeon. His hair naturally parts in a little swirl on the top of his head, like the centre of a rose. “Yeah?”

It’s been a slow walk back. It’s not far and the streets are still quiet. Junmyeon’s been swinging the bag in his hand and Chanyeol’s been slouching along beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets (angles his elbow so Junmyeon can easily hook onto his arm if he needs). Maybe, at a glance, with practice they look like two average people.

“When I get..emotional, or exert myself, or anything, really, I notice changes in my sight. It’s normal that it varies, but I found it noticeable how often I’d get upset and then the next day find it harder to see.” Junmyeon twists the handles around his fingers until they’re tight, pinching the skin pink, and then he lets it unwind again. “Recently I don’t notice it as often. There’s been a few days where it’s too obvious to miss, but.”

“But you’re too busy to focus on it so much?”

Junmyeon nods. Then sticks his elbow in Chanyeol’s side, making him yelp. “Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so’, I’ll put you back out in the garden.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Chanyeol clutches his side dramatically, staggering his next few steps. “Maybe I was just going to say I’m proud of you and happy you’re not so worried about it.”

If Junmyeon didn’t pout he’d smile. “Because I’ve started being active and finding other things to occupy myself with, like you told me to.” He swats at Chanyeol to get him to walk in time again, tugging gently at his sleeve until they’re walking level. He frowns. “Would have been pretty much perfect today if I hadn’t kept getting in the way. My peripheral vision isn’t good even in bright lighting, I just didn’t notice them.”

“That’s what the.. I know you don’t like it, but,” Chanyeol looks away, over the top of Junmyeon’s head at the dappled sunlight from the trees they’re passing. “I don’t know exactly what it does, but I know the hospital wanted you to have it, and Baekhyun is always nagging.”

The white cane. It’s slim and in three sections that fold together. And in the depths of Junmyeon’s closet, to prevent Baekhyun from finding it when he’s in a meddling mood.

Junmyeon’s pout turns into a scowl. “I don’t..need it, exactly. People with worse sight loss than mine have special ones that help them feel where they’re going. But the one they gave me isn’t like that.” It’s called a signal. Junmyeon hadn’t even known there was a difference until he’d been given his. “It’s like. Carrying a sign that says I’m disabled, I guess. That’s all it does.”

Chanyeol purses his lips. He’s learned to hold his tongue, let the first thought that comes to mind settle and reorganise into something more Junmyeon-friendly. “Junmyeon, we’ve been getting along better. I don’t want you to get angry with me.”

Junmyeon shrugs. The bag is starting to cut off the circulation in the two fingers its hanging from, so he swings it across to his other hand. “I wouldn’t cause a scene in public, don’t worry.”

“Ok, good. You are. Disabled. And it is! That’s why it’s useful.” Chanyeol’s hands are out of his pockets, waving around. A few weeks ago Junmyeon would have cared that it’s probably attracting attention to them, but he’s too occupied with thinking how to argue that. “It’s so people will know not to walk into you. And if you’re not with someone and have a problem, people would know what to do. And, probably lots of other useful stuff. How else are they gonna know?”

Junmyeon doesn’t have an answer. He swings the bag at Chanyeol’s knee and misses, but Chanyeol still leaps away like he’s been struck.

“That’s not an answer,” Chanyeol says, and it’s probably for the best Junmyeon’s too focused on his footing as they approach a curb to see his smug smile. Chanyeol stuffs his hands back into his pockets and resumes his normal slouch, arm bumping Junmyeon’s shoulder as they continue home.


“He’s right, isn’t he,” Junmyeon sighs. On the other end of the line Zitao makes a surprised, displeased sound at the noise.

“He is right. Junmahao, we’ve all been telling you..”

“I know, I know,” Junmyeon cuts in, embarrassed. “Things have just.. things are a bit easier now. I’ve been rethinking things, recently.”

“You know, even if he’s done some creepy spirit thing to you I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

Junmyeon huffs, rolling onto his front and hugging the nearest pillow to his chest. It’s been a couple of months, and Chanyeol hasn’t demonstrated that he’s capable of anything metaphysical other than existing. So no, he probably can’t blame some kind of spooky mind control for him finally seeing sense.

“Don’t sound so grumpy! It’s a good thing. You’ve sounded better recently, Junmahao.” Zitao’s voice is thick with fondness. “Plants all have growing instructions, right? It’s just like..like, you have people instructions so everyone knows what to do to make sure things are ok.”

“Hmm,” Junmyeon replies. “Anyway, you should get going,” he says, and across a few hundred miles he can sense that Zitao stuck out his tongue.

“I should. We all love you so much, ok? I love you the most! And I always will. But Chan-yokai loves you a lot too. It’s good for you to be loved. It’s making you sound glowy.”

“I do not sound glowy,” Junmyeon gasps, affronted, and Zitao giggles. After hanging up Junmyeon drops his phone onto the bed and presses his face into the pillow. Does he?



🌼



The seedlings have all grown. Junmyeon stands in front of a bed of pinks and whites, puzzled, not noticing water dripping from the can as he leans to count the distance between plants. He’s really been neglecting his garden. And his podcasts, and his daytime tv schedule. The whole garden needs attention, but Baekhyun is still husband-less and lonely and wants to see a movie and invited him, no question. Chanyeol of course encouraged him to go, offered to tend the flowerbeds and have rice waiting for him.

Junmyeon makes coffee safely, takes his meds, and thoroughly musses Chanyeol’s hair when he passes him sitting at the kitchen table.

Chanyeol nearly coughs out a mouthful of breakfast. “That-” he thumps his chest, wheezing at the fine powdery soil that tickled the whole way down his throat, “-is no way to handle a flower.”

“Sorry.” Junmyeon unhelpfully pats Chanyeol’s back with his fingertips. “Is this better?”

“Wh-” Junmyeon’s bony chest flattens to Chanyeol’s back. His arms squeeze tight around his shoulders, up on tiptoe to reach over the back of the chair and the exact right height to rest his chin on top Chanyeol’s fluffy red head. Chanyeol drops his spoon and startles for a second time at how loudly it clatters on the table. “Wh,” he repeats eloquently. Is Junmyeon- swaying them?

“Just happy,” Junmyeon hums. He has a tendency to do silly things when he’s happy, but, well. Not surprising if Chanyeol doesn’t know that.

He hasn’t told anyone, because they’d misinterpret what he means, but recently Junmyeon’s felt a lot more how he did before. Not back to his old self, obviously, but like the sun reaches him again. He isn’t carrying around stones in his belly anymore. Yesterday he spontaneously sung, and he was sour with lack of practice but remembered every word.


“Chanyeollie,” Junmyeon calls from the hallway, “Outfit check, please.”

Water runs, then Chanyeol ducks out of the kitchen, wet handprints on the thighs of his new jeans. They suit him. He still refuses to wear socks. “You- ah,” he stops in his tracks, and Junmyeon waves the white cane at him threateningly.

“Not a word. And I know I’m being a coward using it in a cinema of all places,” Junmyeon’s lips turn pouting. Chanyeol has to wonder if he knows he’s lost the ability to genuinely sulk recently. There’s always a little smile under the grumpy tone. For some reason it makes Chanyeol want to hold his face.

“I have no idea what a cinema is.” Chanyeol pats Junmyeon’s shoulders to let him know he’s all good to go. “I’m just- not a word, yeah. But. Yeah. Ok. Take c-“

There’s a sharp knock on the door, in some kind of pattern that makes Junmyeon laugh. “That’s me.”

“But I didn’t-” Chanyeol protests as he’s steered back into the kitchen.

“Don’t forget your second water. And I will take care, I promise,” Junmyeon holds up the cane again - after all, Chanyeol’s the one that insisted it would be helpful to use -
and in compensation he blows Chanyeol a kiss from the doorway.

Chanyeol catches it. Unsure of flying kiss courtesy (does he eat it? Press it to his forehead?), he stuffs it in his pocket for later. There’s already two screwed up paper receipts from their most recent outings in there, so he scoots across the kitchen to put them in the trash. He’s already starting to amass waste because these clothes he apparently has to wear have storage for it. Human’s are very strange indeed.



“I’m still walking you right up to the door,” Baekhyun says, “Even if you’re not inviting me in. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“You have no reason to be so gentlemanly to other men anymore.” Junmyeon squeezes Baekhyun where their arms are linked, and Baekhyun makes a sound between a laugh and a wheeze.

“You think I should lose my manners because I’m off the market? I’m not polite just to flirt.”

“Me neither,” Junmyeon sighs. His right arm is aching from holding the white cane. Baekhyun was so pleased to see him using it he hasn’t had the heart to say he’s ready to fold it up and stop drawing attention to himself. “I never grew out of the fear of not being polite enough.”

Baekhyun leans a shoulder against the wall while Junmyeon fishes out his keys. He purposely turns to look at the row of trees across the street. “Your parents scared you formal, my father was a pig and I couldn’t stand to be like him.”

Junmyeon laughs. The key scrapes across the lock, so he takes another more determined stab at it. “The flirting does come in useful, though, so at least there’s that.”

It’s easy to hear when Baekhyun is smiling. “I want another date with you-” he engulfs Junmyeon in a hug that squeezes and sways, “-very soon, ok?

It’s actually not awkward fitting the cane between them after all. For a first attempt there was nothing notably terrible about it, though Junmyeon can’t say he isn’t relieved to finally fold it back up. It’s probably ok to leave it on the hall table beside where he keeps his shoes - he won’t lose or forget it there.

The house is warm and Junmyeon’s cheeks flush within moments of being inside. “Chanyeollie, I made it back in one piece,” he calls, squirming out of his layers.

“There’s rice,” Chanyeol calls back, and the heat in Junmyeon’s face spreads right down into his chest.



“Thank you. For being persistent,” Junmyeon says. They’re in bed facing each other, Junmyeon’s knees curled in and pressed to Chanyeol’s thighs. It wasn’t the same - of course it wasn’t, seeing a blurry movie and carrying a cane and holding Baekhyun’s arm to keep his footing, because Baekhyun worries in different ways to the others - but it was good. The rice was good. Going out with a friend and coming home to company was really, really good.

Chanyeol’s hum is a deep, warm sound close to Junmyeon’s face. “You’re very welcome.” Chanyeol leans across and kisses his forehead. And Junmyeon doesn’t really know what possesses him to do it, but there’s a pleasant buzz under his skin and instead of pulling away, he tilts up and leans in. Chanyeol’s skin is rough and warm, and it’s just a little peck on the cheek but Junmyeon feels positively dizzy as he draws back.  

“Oh,” he breathes. Oh, oh. It hits him all at once that he wants this. He can’t- he really can’t see enough, so he feels instead, hesitantly bringing a hand to Chanyeol’s face. He doesn’t pull back. “Is this ok? Is it ok if we do this?”

“I’m,” Chanyeol says hoarsely. His skin burns against Junmyeon’s palm. “I’m gonna be honest, I don’t.. this is- this is a human thing, I don’t..”

Right. But, “You kiss me all the time. When I go out and you stay. I thought..” Well, looking at it logically, which is extremely hard for Junmyeon to get his brain in gear for right now, it makes sense that it wasn’t a loaded gesture. “Chanyeol, it’s kind of..when humans do that, it’s kind of..”

“Oh.” Chanyeol’s brow creases, confusion and realisation at once. Junmyeon didn’t think it was possible for him to get any warmer. “Your friends do it? And..and I wanted to be close like they are, so. It seemed a nice thing to do.“

“Oh,” Junmyeon echoes. “Context.” Chanyeol tilts his head curiously. Not to be dramatic, but Junmyeon might die if he doesn’t get to kiss that pouting mouth instead of just trying to visualise how soft it is. “Baekhyun and Jongdae both have people that are special to them. Like.. like a mate?” he tries, and Chanyeol nods in what Junmyeon hopes is understanding, “So when they kiss me there we know it’s just a friendly thing, because they already have someone. If you don’t have someone, it’s kind of..”

“But,” Chanyeol bites at his lip, “I do. I have you. That’s why I wanted to-”

“Chanyeollie,” Junmyeon cuts in, but Chanyeol is so close it’s hopelessly distracting. It’s not like Junmyeon had the most patience when it came to kissing boys he liked back when he had a social life, but the sheer weight of the intimacy and the warmth of another body is driving him crazy. It’s not the same as anything he’s wanted before - Chanyeol’s sand and twigs body and petrichor mouth - and nothing is the same about himself, either. “When humans love each other and kiss each other,” Junmyeon says, swallows, and holds eye contact regardless of how pointless that is for himself, “It’s because they’re special to each other, and..and it’s more complicated than that, but.”

“Are you saying I’m special?” Chanyeol grins.

Junmyeon groans. Feelings, ugh. “You’d still be in that container on the window if you weren’t.”

“Kissing. Is it like being pollinated?”

“Similar.” Junmyeon smiles. He thumbs back and forth at the soft spot just behind Chanyeol’s ear, and Chanyeol seems to get heavier and looser with each stroke. “Nicer. I would assume.”

Chanyeol makes a low sound in response. “Nicer, huh.”

When Junmyeon kisses Chanyeol its relief that he feels. Something good that fills him with warmth after so many long, hollow months. He draws back flushed and smiling, pressing their foreheads.

“You said,” Chanyeol pauses, experimentally pressing his lips together to feel the tingle in them, “When humans.. humans, plural, love each other.”

It’s been a long time since Junmyeon giggled. “When humans and little flowers love each other,” he amends, and Chanyeol’s flushed as bright as his hair when he leans in again.



🌼



“You seem happier,” Jongdae says, and then his eyes narrow, “Different. Not just happier, you seem different.” His tone is accusatory and so warm, Junmyeon can’t help grinning.

“The stick changes my whole face, doesn’t it.” He pats the white cane on the bench beside him.

“It compliments your outfit,” Jongdae reciprocates lazily, then leans forward, pushing his drink aside to make space for his elbows on the table. “Junmyeonnie, this is amazing. And I mean this in the nicest way possible, but.. what happened? We’ve hardly seen anything of you for the last few months and you’re suddenly up and out all the time. And carrying your thing? That you hated and hid from Baekhyun?”

“Just, you know,” Junmyeon shrugs and gestures at the cafe around them. It’s a small family run place, far enough from home that he decided to use his cane but so small inside he doesn’t feel disoriented by the surroundings. “Really missed spending money on coffee. It’s not like it’s not actually easier on me to have it done by someone else.”

Jongdae shakes his head, and Junmyeon’s grinning so wide he covers his mouth so as not to weird out the couple opposite. Junmyeon’s pretty sure he’s entitled to feel as pleased with himself as his friends have been.

“Really, though,” Jongdae reaches across. His hand is strong and warm around Junmyeon’s forearm. “Whatever happened that helped you reach a turning point, I’m really- we all are, really happy for you,” he says, and it settles heavy in Junmyeon’s gut.

Not being able to tell them about Chanyeol feels like the worst kind of lying. Not just because they’ve never hidden anything from each other before, but because he wouldn’t have done any of this without him. He couldn’t have. Every day he wakes up to the creaking vines in Chanyeol’s arms wrapped tight around him, and he feels lucky. His kisses taste like sun-warmed earth, and Junmyeon thinks about kissing him over and over when he’s turning the soil in the garden. Every morning he wakes up to the sight of his bright little flower, and it always gets the day off to a good start.

Junmyeon pats Jongdae’s hand, then gently pulls away to lift his drink. “Once I got started it became easier,” he admits, “I changed my routine up, started taking some advice. Limiting myself to gardening meant having too much free time, so I started learning to cook, and- hey!” Junmyeon scowls and aims a sharp kick at Jongdae’s shin for the way he cackled, “At least I’m trying!”

Jongdae wipes away fake tears. “Trying to put yourself back in hospital.”

And yeah, Junmyeon didn’t exactly know his way around a kitchen even before he was more prone to hazards. Spurred on by Chanyeol’s interest, over the past few weeks his podcasts and tv consumption have changed to include more cooking. Chanyeol installs tens of apps every day and drags them into a folder on a screen he thinks Junmyeon doesn’t know about, and he reads and reads. Their first joint effort cooked meal was pancakes that tore into shreds when they scraped them from the bottom of the pan to try and flip. Junmyeon held the pan handle and spatula and Chanyeol slotted tight against his back, hands gently closed around Junmyeon’s wrists to guide him. Wasn’t a bad experience even if the pancakes tasted of burning.

“I’m happy for me, too,” Junmyeon says quietly, and Jongdae reaches across again and squeezes him so tight.



🌼



Having a specialist all of your own is a strange kind of relationship. Not entirely professional and not exactly a friend, either, but Junmyeon still has this urge to tell him about Chanyeol. Excited may be an overstatement, but when the check up letter arrived Junmyeon filled to the seams with ideas of introducing his kind-of-boyfriend to someone who would be pleased for him. He won’t, because that’s not what you do when the special new person in your life resembles a human male, but he dreams about it twice.

Chanyeol’s never been anywhere as formal as a waiting room before. From the moment he helped Junmyeon get his buttons even this morning he’s been fretting. He’s done perfectly, steering Junmyeon’s hand to the right spot to sign in at the desk and guiding him through the corridors (Junmyeon knows the way; he navigates, Chanyeol steers). Junmyeon’s name hasn’t even been fully called when Chanyeol nearly leaps out of the hard plastic chair with urgency.

Junmyeon’s eye specialist is a tall, broad man with a voice too big for his small room. He welcomes them both in like they’ve arrived at a party, his laugh booming down the corridor. “You’ve brought a new friend to meet me,” he says, and Chanyeol’s so taken with the goofy smile on Junmyeon’s face he nearly trips.

It was just one of those human figures of speech, Chanyeol realises once he’s been shown where to sit and is immediately forgotten about. The office isn’t bright and clinical like the other parts of the hospital. Carpeted and full of filing cabinets and kind of like they’ve entered an entirely different building. It’s lamplit, a bed against the wall and equipment and chairs beside the window. A square of strong white daylight frames them, but when Junmyeon leans towards the slit lamp the blinds are pulled down.

This is all just standard procedure to Junmyeon after this long. He explained to Chanyeol during the bus ride here, in as much detail as he could remember, what to expect. Junmyeon flicks a look to the side where Chanyeol is hunched up at the dim end of the room. He deliberated a lot over whether to allow him to come, but in the end they agreed it was right. Chanyeol’s been as dedicated to his care as the other three - he deserves to be let in on the entire thing.

Not that the entire thing is all that much to see. Junmyeon props his chin on the rest and has (“Sorry, look up, I know you don’t like these.”) eyedrops from a tiny blister packet. It’s not some modern digital piece of equipment; it has oiled gears that turn noisily, and a little rattly joystick type control.

The doctor pulls up a small cone and holds it in front of what he’s already looking through. The light on Junmyeon’s face turns blue, and the tip of the handheld microscope is too close to Junmyeon’s eye. Chanyeol feels uneasy about the steadiness of his hand, so he studies the chart beside his head. It’s not a poster but a moulded plastic sheet with sections of the eye diagram raised. It’s disgustingly detailed, in that way everything about human anatomy is. Chanyeol reads each description, attempts to repeat them back to himself, then reads them again, staying as quiet as possible. (Well, maybe not too quiet. Humans breathe, after all).

Junmyeon reads the reflection of the chart from the mirror in the top corner of the room, turns to read the small flip chart on the desk. The doctor has never dropped formal speech, but there’s a genuine friendliness to the odd personal questions he slips in. The first few months of this were numb and foggy and Junmyeon imagines he wasn’t the most responsive patient to deal with, but his garden is something he’s always found the words for.

It’s maybe just what a big man he is, his gentle but commanding presence, but Junmyeon’s always felt kind of bashful speaking to him. Junmyeon’s done wonderfully today, he says, and there’s a kind of pride in his tone when he adds that he thinks it would be safe to reduce the steroids. Junmyeon has the urge to wriggle in the chair.

“I imagine your camellia will be at the end of its season by now,” the doctor says as he fills the prescription notes. He uses an ink pen that scratches loud and hollow on the wood grain of the desk. There’s a laugh in his voice as he gestures across the room with the pen, “You must be able to see your friend here whatever the weather.”

A flare of heat flushes from Junmyeon’s ears down into the neck of his sweater. He looks over, and Chanyeol’s arms and legs are doing the sticky-out thing. “I never lose him in a crowd,” he agrees, covering his smile with his fingers.

When they leave, Junmyeon’s specialist, even taller than Chanyeol, leads Junmyeon to the door. He claps them both firmly on the shoulder, like they’re children, and says, “Take care of each other.” Junmyeon beams, nods.

They make it three steps down the corridor before Chanyeol says, “You told him about me.”

Junmyeon looks up at Chanyeol, and Chanyeol winces. Junmyeon’s eyes are left slightly yellow from the eyedrops. He knows how gross it is, and that his pupils are blown. Jongdae always comments on how creepy it looks. Unfortunately they also make things appear even fuzzier than usual, so dropping Chanyeol’s arm and scooting ahead isn’t an option.

“I- yeah. He’s always asked what I’ve been keeping busy with. He’s nice,” Junmyeon shrugs, “I think the nice ones subtly check up on your wellbeing outside of the specific thing they’re treating you for.” They leave the building, and it’s empty enough outside that Junmyeon leans in close and stays close. “Anyway, so what if I told him I happened to have a very pretty camellia.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Chanyeol shakes his head. If only Junmyeon could see if he was getting pink. “I thought maybe.. Do you think he knows? About me. Maybe it was just..I dunno. I felt like maybe he knew. He’s trained higher than the others, right?”

Huh. “Like. Well, in eyes, yeah.”

Puzzled by what exactly Chanyeol thinks doctors do, Junmyeon directs them back to the bus terminal that will take them via the pharmacy.



🌼



“Was the change in your medication ok?”

Junmyeon sucks loudly at the thick straw in his drink, responding with a nod and raised brows.

“You’ve seemed,” Chanyeol pokes his tongue into the edge of his mouth. Fruit infused water is sweet and good and the flavour is stuck to his lips. “Weird. All day.”

Not that it’s been a bad day or anything. The opposite - Junmyeon’s been incredibly active. In the morning they planted some new mail order seeds and deadheaded and weeded. They got through four podcast episodes (kind of. Junmyeon may have drifted in and out of the part about annual river swimming competitions, even though one is held in Zitao’s father’s hometown). They’ve been to the convenience store and Chanyeol picked out snacks. Snacks he can’t eat himself, but they’ve got them spread across the bed and it’s still kind of exciting. He gets to sniff them and puzzle over them before Junmyeon dutifully eats it for him. It’s not really felt like a normal day.

“Not weird,” Junmyeon pouts, stirring the straw around. He’s never tried one of these convenience store milkshakes before because they’re overpriced and loaded with sugar. And, he’s now found, so delicious and thick he’ll be needing at least three a week.

Chanyeol drops his chin onto his folded arms. There’s crumbs on the bed covers. “Is everything ok with Taozi?” he asks, flicking at the crumbs with a finger. “You were talking a long time last night.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, “We had a nice talk.” Zitao was telling him all about how Sehun was finishing school and needed to go back to Korea, so maybe they could visit. Maybe Junmyeon could visit them sometime, y’know, since he’s become so much more adventurous recently. And then he said Chan-yokai can come too, if he’ll still be here by then, and Junmyeon’s head has felt heavy with storm clouds since.

Chanyeol hums, then rolls so their shoulders bump. “You’ll tell me eventually, so you could do it sooner and not keep being weird.”

“You know, some people would love to have a partner as intuitive as you,” Junmyeon replies flatly. But he makes a point, as he usually does. “It was just, Taozi said something, and it made me think. I wondered..will you leave? I know you’re not one of those fancy spirits with powers,” he says before Chanyeol reminds him, “But sometimes..sometimes spiritual things are only around for as long as they have a purpose?”

“You couldn’t wait for me to leave when I first arrived.”

“Chanyeol, I’m serious. I don’t know anything about this. If you made some kind of contract or if you’re just here until you’ve fulfilled something or..” The plastic cup in Junmyeon’s hands is a brown and pink blur. He turns it around and around. “You said you missed being in the ground. If you wanted to go back I wouldn’t stop you,” he says, then catches a shaky breath and puffs it out. This feels like the most horribly vulnerable position he’s been in, and that’s saying something. Junmyeon pulls a sleeve down to cover his knuckles, tugging it tight over the skin. “But, if I’m honest, I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

For a long moment Chanyeol says nothing, and Junmyeon fiddles with the straw in his cup. “I don’t think I can go back. One time deal.” Chanyeol rolls to the side again, nudging their shoulders together, “If you hadn’t wanted me to stay I’d have just started hanging around in fog luring people to their deaths, I guess?”

Junmyeon smiles a little at that. It’s probably just the excess of sugar that’s making him feel nauseous now he’s got an answer. “You’ve been weird too, though,” he says, “Some days you just..you seem off, and I can’t tell why. I thought you’d tell me if I was upsetting you again,” he pouts, “You’re supposed to stop me being a jerk.”

“It’s the opposite.”

“You’re being weird because I’m making you happy?” Junmyeon asks, and if he sounds incredulous it’s..well. Him? Making someone happy?

“No- I mean, maybe. Kind of.” Sighing, Chanyeol drops his head to Junmyeon’s shoulder. “So, the thing is, I do know how old I am. In plant years, at least.”

Junmyeon pushes up on his elbows, shrugging Chanyeol off in the process, so he can turn onto his side and face him. “You said you didn’t know,” and he’s scowling, but from what he can see Chanyeol is bashful right now. He may not be able to see his features clearly, but he’s coming to read his body language with ease.

“The thing with..the whole becoming sentient deal. You know anything can become sentient? Not just already living things.”

“I know what a yokai is.” Junmyeon’s relieved Chanyeol wasn’t an overly-attached piece of furniture. “But I don’t know how they come to be.”

When he’s uncomfortable Chanyeol tries to bunch himself up small, but there’s no room for it lying out on the bed with Junmyeon beside him. He rubs at the nape of his neck. Sometimes it prickles and stings in a way that probably makes sense to a human. “Just. I’m not gonna leave. Ok? You can trust me, I knew what I was doing when I came here. I don’t have any plans to leave.”

Well, that’s nice, but it’s not an answer. “You’re always so evasive,” Junmyeon pouts. “Sneaky little spirit,” he jabs at Chanyeol’s side with his tiny strong hand, “Maybe you are malicious after all.”

“N-“ Chanyeol tries to duck away from the sharp prods to his ribs, but there’s nowhere to go unless he leaves the bed and risks scattering crumbs and empty packets. ”Fine! Fine. A hundred.”

“A..“

“Anything over a hundred years old gains the ability to become self aware. When you asked I realised that I must have turned a hundred, and that’s why it worked.” Chanyeol rubs at his sore ribs. When he dares to glance over at Junmyeon it’s to find him gawping. Chanyeol heats from his ears to his toes. “I knew you’d get all weird about it! That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

It takes a moment for Junmyeon to find his voice. His tongue feels thick and sticky with sugar. “I’m- I’m not being weird, that’s just..It’s a long time to be alive for. You used up your wish straight away,” he swallows thickly, “On me.”

Chanyeol groans, covering his face with his hands. “Yeah, on you. I’ve been weird because it’s just. Things don’t really work how I expected they would, you know? I know you don’t feel the same way about me.”

For a second time Junmyeon can’t seem to find the words fast enough.

“I get that now,” Chanyeol hurries to explain, “I understand, I know humans are different to me, and me appearing as a human is different to what I was to you as a flower, and there are different kinds of love and when you don’t need my help anymore then you’ll meet more new humans and meet th-“

It’s a hard thump of a kiss with Junmyeon’s accuracy not being the best. Chanyeol makes a startled sound of complaint, both at being cut off and at the bruising force they met with.

“You’re mine and I’m keeping you,” Junmyeon probably sounds childishly sullen, but he doesn’t care. He balls his hands in Chanyeol’s hoodie and holds himself close. “I won’t want anybody else. I’ve never wanted to keep anyone, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol licks over his lower lip. It’s pulsing with heat. “Never?”

Junmyeon shakes his head. “Baekhyun and Jongdae have always wanted to find someone to be with forever. I’ve liked people- I’ve had fun being with people, but not like that. I’ve never wanted that.”

“Never,” Chanyeol, who is a hundred years old and traded in his peaceful life as a camellia for a human, repeats. Uncertain, confused.

Junmyeon feels the same. But, “You’re my little flower, and I want you to stay here and be mine,” he says, burying in against Chanyeol’s chest. If there’s only one thing he is sure about, it’s that.



🌼



“Chanyeollie, blue or black?”

Chanyeol turns to find Junmyeon elbow deep in the closet, rummaging. There’s a black sweater on a hanger in his other hand. He pulls out a sleeve, holding it away from his shadow and frowning. Warm cozy rooms are all well and good when you don’t need sterile brightness to see.

“Which colour do you want?” Chanyeol asks. Junmyeon pouts, and Chanyeol places a steadying hand at his back to let Junmyeon know he’s stepping closer.

“Which colour is best for lying convincingly to your friends in?”

“Blue. Black looks more suspicious.” Chanyeol follows the sleeve into the closet and fights the hanger out from between the tightly packed clothes, then takes the one Junmyeon’s holding and wedges it back in.

It’s only..temporary lying. And it’s not entirely a lie, anyway. It’s not exactly untrue that Chanyeol is Junmyeon’s carer, and it’ll explain why he’s around all the time. They’ll have the distraction of sussing out that Chanyeol’s secretly Junmyeon’s kind-of boyfriend before suspecting he’s not human, anyway, which is probably preferable.

“I’m worried.” Chanyeol’s spoken to people in passing when they go out. But they’re just people, not Junmyeon’s people. His closest friends. “I mean, obviously I hope they’ll like me and I’ll like them, but them believing me is more important. What if they don’t? What if they don’t agree and want you to change your mind?”

“You look-” Junmyeon reaches to push a stray crimson hair back in place. It’s long for styling up and strands keep falling out of the product, standing up like little sprouts. “-incredibly handsome. Even if they’re not convinced, you can probably just charm your way around them.”

“Yeah?”

Junmyeon hums. “Useless gay, useless bisexual,” he explains with a smile, “Kyungsoo’s a mean asexual, but trust me, he likes looking. He’ll like looking at you.”

“You’re already relying on that more than me being convincing.” Chanyeol fiddles nervously with his cuffs.

If he’s going to live here permanently it’s not only impractical to keep hiding from Junmyeon’s friends, but it’s.. well, he doesn’t want to be human, but he doesn’t want to be dehumanised as such either. Being introduced to them under false pretences had been his idea, and it seemed like a good one. Like, when they were cuddled up in bed giggling about Kyungsoo’s confusion over a large pair of shoes in the hall. It had seemed a good idea when they were safe and alone and not wearing uncomfortable tight fitting clothes.

“It’s not that.” Junmyeon grins. “Envy and pride are very bad human traits, Chanyeollie, don’t pick them up.”

“So you’re showing me off,” he accuses, maybe sounding a little proud. What flower doesn’t like being appreciated for how they look?

Junmyeon folds his arms across his chest, but then notices a strip of white where there shouldn’t be. “I want you to get to know my friends, and for you to not have to creep around the place anymore,” he says, messily tucking the left tail of Chanyeol’s shirt into his waistband. Chanyeol makes a little sound in realisation and covers Junmyeon’s hands with his own. He’s trying to take the task over, and it takes him a moment to realise that Junmyeon’s purposely letting his hands get in the way. “And I’m showing you off.”

“Stop that,” Chanyeol groans, pressing his palms to Junmyeon’s rounded cheeks, “If you keep smiling like that they’re going to figure it out before I’ve even said anything.”

“They only need to get used to you being around and then we can explain,” Junmyeon’s smile broadens, Chanyeol’s palms pressing warm to his face. “It doesn’t matter if they’re suspicious.”

“You know them better than me,” Chanyeol concedes, but he still sounds worried. Junmyeon takes one of his hands between his own and turns it, presses a kiss to the heel of Chanyeol’s palm, and, well. Whatever Junmyeon wants is fine.



🌼



Out of the three Baekhyun probably wasn’t the first to figure it out, but he is the first to outright accuse Junmyeon of sleeping with his carer. Which Junmyeon truthfully denied. But maybe Zitao was right about the glowy thing; Baekhyun turns up unannounced the next morning with a lot of questions and fresh pastries as bribery.


“Kim Junmyeon, you’re sorely out of practice at sneaking boys past people.” Baekhyun tears open both grease-spotted paper bags set on the table between them and nudges one towards Junmyeon. “The poor guy couldn’t have convincingly lied about it to save his life.”

“It is how we met though. Honestly, when he showed up one day to..” What do professional carers actually do? Junmyeon waves his sugary fingers dismissively, “..do the whole carer thing, he annoyed the hell out of me. I didn’t want him here.”

“That part is convincing.” Baekhyun tears off a chunk of buttery pastry and drops it into his mouth. “But then suddenly you wanted him here an awful lot?”

“We didn’t get along for a while. We had different ideas about what kind of progress I should be making, and I just wanted to fight with him every day. But over time we came to see each other’s views better. And he’s..” Junmyeon frowns and picks at the flakes of pastry loose in the bag. Kind, thoughtful, passionate, considerate.. “You know.”

“Hot,” Baekhyun offers. Junmyeon’s jaw drops, and Baekhyun chews open-mouthed and noisy in imitation, “You can cut out that innocent act. Like I really believe you can’t tell he’s like an 8.”

“Aren’t you too old for rating my choices in men?”

“Too married for it, maybe. But I know you want to know why he’s not a 10.”

“Too tall,” Junmyeon says, shaking his head in disbelief that they’re doing this. They’ve been playing this since they were teenagers, and..well, Junmyeon hadn’t really imagined it would be necessary again. It’s kind of surreal being able to talk about Chanyeol to someone he’s actively been hiding him from.

“That’s only one point.” Baekhyun leans back in the chair and licks crumbled pastry from his lips. “His hair, Junmyeonnie. You’re not a teenager anymore. How did he even get employed looking like that? I’ve never even seen that colour on anyone. Nice for you though, I g- oh, is that why?”

Junmyeon nearly chokes on his mouthful of butter and sugar. “Baekhyun, what- They wouldn’t make their staff change appearance to suit the client.” They, he said, Even he’s buying into the fictitious employer. Pretending Chanyeol isn’t due in yet, when really he’s still hiding, bundled under the covers of their bed.

Shrugging, Baekhyun reaches back over the table to start fiddling with the empty paper bag. He always likes to be touching something, keeping moving. “But isn’t it kind of, bad? Like, against the rules? I had to fire my own husband to marry him,” he laughs, waving a dismissive hand, “I’m not judging the circumstances, obviously. But he’d get in shit with his agency if they knew, right?”

Junmyeon hesitates before nodding. That’s a plot point in their story he hadn’t considered. He’s always been better with numbers than words. Baekhyun drums his fingers on the table.

“Would he leave for you, do you think?” Baekhyun asks, and Junmyeon doesn’t need to think about that question. He nods, and maybe he’s glad he can only hear the soft gasp and can’t quite make out Baekhyun’s features beyond his open mouth. “Sooo.. he’s got it that bad for you. But you? Is he just making the nights less cold and lonely, or..”

Well, there’s a question. Junmyeon’s lengthily silence seems to answer it for him.

“I knew it!” Baekhyun wiggles in his seat, “I told the others - he’s not your type, of course you caught feelings.”

“What does that even mean.”

“He is not your type,” Baekhyun repeats emphatically, “Barely in looks, let alone personality. So obviously it’s because you actually like him.”

The idea of falling for Chanyeol as a human, as a stranger, seems improbable. Even if Junmyeon could explain the circumstances, he’s not just going to tell anyone he’s maybe been in some kind of love for a while now. He’s not even good at telling Chanyeol that. He should.


“Happy for you, Junmyeonnie,” Baekhyun says as he hugs Junmyeon goodbye, feet on the front path and body draped through the doorway. Junmyeon huffs, sways him, then pushes him back upright.

“Stop it, you all keep saying that. You knew it was only a matter of time until I got back on my feet.”

The length of Baekhyun’s pause says enough about that. He shrugs and leans into Junmyeon’s space again. “Happy you’ve found someone that makes you all soft and happy like that. We can pretend we don’t know, if it’d make him more comfortable.”

“He was afraid he wouldn’t meet your approval,” Junmyeon smiles, “And I think he probably still is, so maybe just until he’s more sure of things.”

Baekhyun frowns, hands clasped around Junmyeon’s forearms. “We trust your judgement,” he says, and Junmyeon appreciates that, “But that’s understandable, with the circumstances. Next time you wanna- not that you seem to really need us as chaperones anymore, but next time you wanna go somewhere nice, if you wanted to invite us as well as bringing him..”

Junmyeon hums like he’s considering it. Really he’s just amused at Baekhyun’s insuppressible curiosity.  

“Let us get to know him more, Myeonnie. I know we’re all going to love him.” Baekhyun says it earnestly enough. He gives Junmyeon a last squeeze and leaves him wondering how he got so lucky with the people in his life.

Well, anyway, now the coast is clear..


“Chanyeollie, it’s safe to come out now.” Junmyeon pats his hands over the lump under the bed covers. He must reach something sensitive - Chanyeol jolts and squirms and his fluffy red head pops out.

“You could come back in,” he suggests. Since they’ve been on more intimate terms he’s getting very good at intoning suggestions in ways that compensate for his puppy eyes being ineffective.

“I have things to do,” Junmyeon protests as Chanyeol makes a grabby hand towards him, “I have th- Chanyeol.” It’s not exactly a struggle for Chanyeol to tug Junmyeon in. By the time he’s steadied himself from bouncing down onto the mattress Chanyeol’s swamped him with the covers. “You’re the one that wanted me to be more active and now you want me to stay in bed all day?” Junmyeon pouts playfully, “I spent months doing that.”

“Yeah, when I wasn’t able to join you!” Chanyeol pouts right back, and just the curl of his tone makes Junmyeon think of kissing him. He isn’t afraid to pull Junmyeon around a little now, still mindful of not disorienting him but tucking covers and limbs around him with determination.

And yeah, Junmyeon can think of a lot of things that are a better way to spend time than getting back into bed, but Chanyeol makes a very good point. Chanyeol nuzzles in at Junmyeon’s neck and holds him so close, so carefully, the way he learned from how Junmyeon used to hold him so entirely in both hands.

“Only twenty minutes, ok?” Junmyeon’s already closed his eyes, “And then we’re getting up. Things to do.”

Chanyeol’s sigh ruffles Junmyeon’s hair. “I regret trying so hard to get you interested in being active all the time again.”

“You don’t,” Junmyeon yawns, burying into the warmth of Chanyeol’s broad chest, “It just means you have to work harder to distract me.”



🌼



Junmyeon had wondered if it would be bad, revisiting somewhere he’s only ever seen in fragments. Whether being back out in the fields with the big pond and big greenhouses would just remind him of before, or if it would be nice, now. Now that there is a before and after.

Kyungsoo drove because Kyungsoo knows the way. Baekhyun sat at one window because he likes to see out, and Chanyeol sat at the other because Junmyeon knew he’d enjoy seeing a rural area. Junmyeon went in the middle, less steady but pressed between two warm bodies. Chanyeol rubbing his thumb across Junmyeon’s knuckles was to soothe his own nerves, not a boyfriend gesture, but Baekhyun gave Junmyeon a subtle little smile and maybe wiggled slightly as he turned back to look at the scenery.


As soon as they’re through the entrance Baekhyun loops their arms. Junmyeon, with his white cane in one hand and Baekhyun occupying the other, turns back and scans for the flash of red. He smiles apologetically, and Chanyeol’s limbs seem to move in a gesture that says its ok before Junmyeon is dragged away entirely.

Chanyeol drops behind, hands stuffed in his pockets. This place has meaning to them from a time before he was around. Baekhyun seems nice and so far they’ve at least bonded over the volume they like to speak at. He gets to look after Junmyeon all the time - he won’t begrudge Baekhyun taking over.

Keeping them in sight, Chanyeol wanders. There’s a strange kind of humidity in here from the warehouse roof and well watered plants. The smell of damp soil and the feel of it under his feet in small clumps across the stone floor calms his nerves. Nearly everyone here is currently out of the ground, all kept in plastic or ceramic containers while they wait to be rehomed.

This place is much larger than the one they visited to buy his soil, and being far from all those roads and noisy cars feels good. Chanyeol’s almost sorry that most of his fellow plants here will, like he will, be taken back into the city. “You need someone to look after you, so I suppose it’s worth the trade in the end,” he says to a fuchsia. He means to touch it gently, but his clumsy human fingers prod and make it swing. Oops.

He’d apologise, but Kyungsoo and the cart suddenly pull up beside him. The words stick in his mouth, so he guiltily rubs one of its leaves between his finger and thumb.

“This’ll be a lot easier than it was last time. With you here,” Kyungsoo says, resting on the cart with his elbows. Junmyeon and his friends are all small, but Kyungsoo seems the smallest. He’s stocky and wears odd clothing that throw his proportions off. “You should have seen me and Baekhyun trying to manage Junmyeon as well as a cart. Neither of us wanted him to think it was a bother, but we were barely strong enough between us to lift half of it.”

Chanyeol consciously laughs, and it must sound as uncertain as he is. There’s a flicker of a frown before Kyungsoo smiles. He’s trying to make friends, Chanyeol realises, and his ears tip pink as he realises Junmyeon’s probably told them that he’s nervous. He is, obviously, about whether they’ll like him, but also about getting caught out before they’ve had a chance to get to know him. Revealing your true form after people like you seems the safest order to go about it.

“Junmyeon said you cook?” Chanyeol holds his hands out, offering to push the cart.

Kyungsoo gives him a curt nod and steps aside. “Professionally, yeah. I mean, that word always sounds more impressive than it is. It’s nothing big, but I’d like it to be one day. But you know how it is being young in that industry.”

Chanyeol doesn’t. Kyungsoo’s smiling, so he laughs anyway. It must sound like it came easier that time; Kyungsoo’s looking up at him like he isn’t just some strange intruder.

“Junmyeonnie tells me you’re making him eat better these days.”

“I’m-“ Chanyeol’s tongue suddenly feels clumsy. Pick a subject he can actually talk about, he’d thought, not realising Kyungsoo would be way above attempting recipes from apps. “Learning. I only recently started, so I’m pretty limited. I’m not, uh. Food doesn’t interest me much, to be honest, I just wanted Junmyeon to start eating better to help with his recovery.”

Kyungsoo parts his lips, then pinches them back into a smile. For a moment he looks at Chanyeol the same way Baekhyun had looked at Junmyeon’s little hand under his own, like he’s fond. Like maybe Chanyeol’s unprofessional interest in Junmyeon is ok, not just Junmyeon making questionable decisions.

“That’s good of you. If you ever need any tips let me know.” Chanyeol nods his head rapidly. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and shrugs. “Considering how he eats if you leave him to his own devices I don’t think he’ll be interested in me interfering in trying to elevate home cooked food, though. I’m sure he’s really appreciating it.”

“I. Yeah, I like s-“ There’s just something in the steady way Kyungsoo makes eye contact that’s getting Chanyeol all muddled. His neck is doing that weird stingy thing again, and he knows that when his face feels hot it tends to look it too. “He seems happy, so, I’m happy to do it.”

Kyungsoo nods. “We’d better catch them up. If Baekhyun tires him out chatting then we won’t get around to buying anything.”

Junmyeon hadn’t been wrong that Kyungsoo likes to look. It’s unnerving and somehow makes Chanyeol want to puff up proud. One moment it feels like maybe Kyungsoo knows, like he’s searching him for evidence, then the next it’s just.. Chanyeol knows how humans look at things when they like the look of them.

“Yeah, lets..” Chanyeol rubs at the back of his neck through his sleeve, then scans the area. It reaches a point where the warehouse is cut away, leading to sloped pathways with larger plants and trees. It’d be easy to miss the two of them if..well, if it weren’t the two of them, arms linked and Junmyeon’s white cane and their heads conspiratorially close. “Ah, that way.” He turns the cart and the wheels rattle loudly over the uneven floor.


“Kyungsoo didn’t give you a hard time, did he?” Junmyeon murmurs close to Chanyeol’s ear.

Baekhyun moved to the front passenger seat for the journey home to leave the back free for their purchases. And to give Junmyeon some privacy with Chanyeol. (Junmyeon didn’t ask. From his tone Baekhyun probably winked when he insisted and held the door open).

Chanyeol makes a sound in his throat. “No, we got along ok. He seems nice. He was nice to me.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Junmyeon nuzzles in at Chanyeol’s shoulder, and Chanyeol rests their heads together.

Too much excitement always wears Junmyeon out, and despite the cleaner air and greenery all around Chanyeol’s a little wilted from his efforts to appear human. A responsible human at that.

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo says from the front, and Chanyeol startles and tries to look like he definitely wasn’t about to press a kiss to the top of Junmyeon’s head. “There’s some sharp corners coming up.”

“Ah-“ Careful not to disturb Junmyeon, Chanyeol angles his hip and reaches out to put pressure against the large container strapped in beside him. “Got it. All good.”

“You two are friends already.” Junmyeon wriggles a little to get comfortable again. Amongst the odds and ends Junmyeon wanted to get (and soil - for breakfast and for the beds), he told Chanyeol to pick out a plant he really liked to bring back home. Chanyeol had worried that the fuchsia was too big, but Junmyeon assured him Kyungsoo would find a way if it was the one he wanted.

The flowers hang down like tiny dancers, swinging with the motion of the car and tickling where they brush Chanyeol’s wrist. “We are,” he smiles, and this time he does sneak a kiss.



🌼



“Are you sure you’re ok doing this? You won’t get jealous or anything?” Junmyeon asks. He’s bundled up in a coat, scarf, and nestled in against Chanyeol’s side. He isn’t smiling - teasing. It was his idea, because he’s better at gestures than words, but Chanyeol sharing the sentiment is what matters.

Jongdae’s only been digging for a few minutes. He had a lot of questions about how and why Junmyeon decided on getting rid of the camellia after insisting it had to stay before. No trace of it, he’d grumbled to himself like it was a bad thing, No roots! How is the earth so compact after roots like that!  

“Sure,” Chanyeol nods, looking over at where the fuchsia is sitting, patiently waiting to be planted. It’s as bright as he is, and it’s got a charming personality. A good choice. “It’s not my home anymore,” he says, tilting his head to rest against Junmyeon’s.

Junmyeon hums agreement. His little hand releases its grip on Chanyeol’s hoodie to reach up, feel over his collarbones and slip around the back of his neck. “Your home is here with me,” he smiles into the soft kiss to Chanyeol’s jaw.

A whistle startles them apart. “You could try to be subtle,” Jongdae raises a critical brow at them, then turns back to lift the fuchsia and lower it into the ground.

They huddle closer together, Junmyeon giggling behind his hand and Chanyeol trying to somehow hide himself behind him, their faces flushed camellia red.