Chapter Text
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Shyness and hesitation held him back. Now that he’s aware—now that the two people he’s been falling for happens to be one and the same—Jisung doesn’t quite know how to act. Maybe he needs some air. Maybe he needs distance.
So instead, he tells Chan, "Excuse me for a moment," with his phone still pressed to one ear,
"I'm sorry I left that way," Chan cuts him off in a hurry, words pouring out. "Please..."
Jisung's eyes bolt upward, meeting Chan’s searching gaze. "Huh?”
"You must be upset with me. For rushing out like that. For not having told you earlier. I understand, if you are, so let me apologize—"
“Shut up...” This time, a teardrop escapes the corner of Jisung’s left eye.
A pause. “Sung...”
Across the road, through the soft lavender clouds in the lightening sky, the first rays of orange blossom to paint Chan’s silhouette in undulating ripples of light. Jisung’s heart swoops and skips, and his feet finally find the will to move forward. The rain had subdued about now, the youngers blonde hair looked like that of wet sunflowers in a golden field. Chan’s heart raced. He reminds me of art.
“Don’t apologize to me,” he snaps before dropping the call.
And then he's half-running from across street, and to his surprise, Chan, too, rushes forward and meets him half-way, so they're almost in the middle of the road, deserted, it’s just them now. Chan's hair was almost blonde, the purples and pinks remaining as streaks only, brushing along with the wind over his eyes, and Jisung slowly reaches out to push them aside, damn these strands; wanting to look, needing to see him.
Chan’s pupils dilate at his touch, but before Jisung can pull his hand away, he grabs his wrist in a gentle hold. His fingers are warm, and Jisung gasps softly when Chan presses a featherlight kiss to the ridges of his knuckles, eyes closed.
“Thank you,” he murmurs in a low rasp.
There’s so much more meaning in those two words than a simple show of gratitude, and Jisung understands that.
Thank you for searching for me.
For choosing me.
For believing in me.
Tears gathering in his eyes, Jisung shakes his head and murmurs, “No. Chan, thank you.”
For saving me when I needed it the most.
He's pictured, no, daydreamed over and over about this situation, a thousand times before in his mind. What he'd do, the things that he'd say, if he met CB97. Or if he would ever garner the guts sometime in the future to confess to his nocturnal neighbour. He had beautiful lines from lyrics he heard sitting on his lips, but everything just dissipated into dust at that moment. Words weren't enough. All the letters of the alphabet put together too, couldn't contain those emotions.
Chan has no idea, Jisung thinks, just how much he is the calm to his chaos.
Later, Jisung will tell him of all those nights he spent as a dedicated ghost listener of CB97. Later, they’ll joke about it all.
There’s more than enough time for that.
Now, Jisung throws both arms around Chan and leans in to connect their lips.
Night falls through the sky. Their eyes flutter closed. Jisung curves his hands around the nape of Chan's neck as the sun sets above the horizon, their lips melting and weakening against each other. Chan, just as desperately, meets his lips. Gently, Chan pulls him closer by his waist, and he giggles into their kiss when Jisung stumbles on a pebble, grip still steady around the shorter.
Chan breaks the connection with a relaxed breath to rest their foreheads against each other. Jisung can almost count the golden brown flecks dotting the irises of Chan from up close—his eyes are an entire fucking row of celestial objects.
“What’s that in your hand?”, the younger asks while looking at a pretty baby blue gift bag, now splotched here and there with dark blue stains. The purple-haired man gasps, “SHIT!,” incoherent words leaving his lips as he tries frantically to wipe dry the bag, “Okay, thank god nothing happened to it.”
Jisung furrowed his brows, “What’s in it?” curious about the sky toned cover.
Chan smiled nervously, hands scratching the back of his neck, as he handed the younger the bag, “It’s for you…”
The blonde boy grins, “For me??”, he carefully opens the bag, a pretty wrapped box, oddly shaped with a differently coloured bow. Mismatched all together, but precious. Jisung slowly tore the tape that bound the edges of the paper, a small gadget came in display. “A CD player?” says the boy, tilting his head quizzically.
“Open it…”
Jisung presses against the tough button that says ‘open’, laid inside was a CD with the print of the two of them at the beach, and the words ‘Forever Yours’. Heart threatening to beat out of his chest, the shorter manages to lock eyes with Chan, “Open the other thing too, and then play it...if you’d like to?”
“Okay,” Jisung sighed, pausing to wipe his nose on his sleeve. The wrapping was left over a small shape, spherical almost. With delicate fingers, and a beating heart the younger removed the pretty paper away from the figurine. A snow globe? No...
It’s water. Jisung’s mouth slightly drops open, his skin tingled, a “Chan are these from—”
“—The beach? Yeah...It’s your own personal sea,” purple strands stuck to his forehead, a certain warmth emanated from the older.
Feelings of happiness are often difficult to describe. Because like most things, that feeling doesn’t last for too long. But like the ocean in his hand right now, Jisung felt it again. The infectious happiness. It started as a tingle, much like the feeling he had nights without sleep, but instead of worrisome it's calm. The boy feels it pass through him like a wave, washing away the stress of his day.
“I feel so…….happy,” the blonde-boy says, as he rattles the pretty shells in its glassed salty glory. The feeling is a blissful evocation of time spent with you, Chan. Jisung stood and let the happiness soak right into his bones.
Chan’s voice is small, like he’s too afraid to speak lest he break something fragile. “Do you like it?”
Jisung sighs, eyes fluttering close. “I love it,” he answers.
Chan reaches for Jisung’s hand and squeezes it. He mentally notes to thank Minho and Changbin.
“So...H.J, how did you like the reveal?” Chan’s grin widens.
Annoyed by the nickname he had chosen to engage with the podcast host back then, Jisung gives a petulant cry and reaches out to pinch Chan’s arm.
A sharp inhale. “Ouch?!”
Jisung sticks out his tongue. Straightening up, Chan’s pained expression morphs back to a crooked smirk. “If this is reality, then can I just get kisses instead of hits, sweetheart.”
Jisung's brain whizzes through all the information present to him and his heart clenches. How could he have failed to note the resemblances sooner?
He breathes in, complete awe taking over his features, "I can't believe it," as they resume walking speed. "You're him. Why didn't you tell me earlier? ”
Chan gives him a dirty look. "I just told you."
"You know that's not what I meant..."
The older male sighs defeated, "You know...I couldn't get myself to talk. It's tough around people...and podcasts? well I grew up listening to them or—”
“—well slept listening to them. It only made sense to do that when I couldn't sleep either and..."
He went on a tangent again didn't he? Chan blushes.
Jisung stares, his eyes ever so soft, "I feel like a fool, Chan..."
He snickers, "I...Honestly sungie...when you sent in that letter, I wanted to tell you, but it felt so—"
"Uncanny? Unbelievable?" Jisung completes, "...yeah, I thought so too"
His own words caused another flush to crawl up Jisung's neck.
"Sorry," he murmurs darkly, lowering his lashes. Jisung smacks his head internally for being completely blind all along.
“How can I make it up to you?”
Jisung pretends to think, humming in thought. “Be my boyfriend...and maybe kiss me again.”
“If you want to, that is”
Heart racing, Chan stops walking and side-eyes him. Then, with an equally cheeky smile of his own, he answers, “Oh, I don’t know.” He folds his arms and strokes his chin to think. “Maybe if you take me out for dinner, I’ll think about it.”
Jisung’s eyes disappear as he laughs, drawing Chan into his arms once more for a hug that warms him to the tips of his toes. “If that’s all it takes, then say goodbye to your single life.”
The older laughs and Jisung once again is reminded of how much that sound resonates through every fibre of his being. He noticed again how it's the kind of laugh that transforms him into someone else entirely, the kind of laugh that puts stars in his eyes and a dazzle on his lips and he realizes that he's never seen someone like this before.
But he gets to now. More often, now .
Chan does, however, nod a simple yes. Of course he wants to. He wanted it more than he thought so himself.
The younger extends his hands out as they walk, to intertwine their pinkies, because all of this, Chan's dimples; the work overload from the past few weeks; the whole series of events leading up to the present, feels like a newly realized promise he wants to keep for himself.
The pair shuddered as they held hands, drenched from head to toe, making their way home. An unopened umbrella and a gift bag of memories.
Later that night, as Jisung tucks himself under the duvet with the CD player beside him, he plugs on his earphones and tunes into his favourite podcast show,
“Hey you, welcome to ‘Your Daily Insomniac’ a late-night podcast and this is CB97, Christopher to my mother, Chris to most of my friends—” an awkward pause later the host continues, “—and Channie to the significant other I just found, staying up with you all night until the sun rises…” a soft giggle echoes in the wind.
My Channie...
Falling asleep to the sound of his boyfriend’s voice not because he needs to.
But because he can.
He’s lucky like that.
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