Work Text:
When Junmyeon pitched this idea Chanyeol was on board pretty much immediately. It would fit into his schedule, it would mean Junmyeon handling the majority of preparations, and it would..yeah, it would have some nice continuity from winter. Or something. Either way, Chanyeol’s in a van being driven through forest dense mountains, and he’s wondering if he made the right decision.
“You mentioned it,” he says, lolling his head onto his left shoulder to glance across at Junmyeon, “About not having phone signal. It’s fine, I agreed.”
“I know. I just- it’ll probably cut out soon. Just reminding you in case there were last minute things.”
Chanyeol nods. He slips his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, but there are no new notifications and he’s already said his goodbyes. He closes apps with his thumb, flashes of light between the shadow of fast passing trees showing up swipes of grease on the screen. It is a daunting thought, but he hasn’t missed the way Junmyeon’s fretfully cycled between Instagram and Twitter for the past half hour. He’s barely said a word to Chanyeol, the driver, or the lone cameraman who’s riding with them in case anything goes wrong with Chanyeol’s hand-held.
“You think only I’m going to struggle with it?” Chanyeol nods to Junmyeon’s phone.
Junmyeon restlessly taps his fingers against the edges of the case where he’s cradling it. “You’re the one who wanted to cut down on usage time,” he says, and when he looks back to the screen the bars have disappear entirely.
Chanyeol expects some kind of reaction - a pout at the least - but Junmyeon just locks his phone and busies himself with his fussy little case in his fussy big bag. He always has something to suit the occasion, if more for appearance than practicality.
“It’s not like you could post something anyway,” Chanyeol says. Junmyeon is silent. He hadn’t really said it to lighten the mood anyway; it’s just how it is. But being unable to post for fans is probably only midway down the list of reasons Junmyeon sighs and sinks down in his seat.
Well, this is a fun trip so far. But if Chanyeol knows anything about Junmyeon (and he does know a little, after fifteen years), he’ll perk back up and want to be involved in everything once they arrive. After months of wholesome routine he must be itching to do something that’s their kind of normal, not everyone else’s.
Junmyeon is pouting now. It’s odd seeing him without the curtain of hair falling into his eyes anymore, but his hair is a good few inches longer than when the stubble had made Chanyeol’s palm itch. It’s fluffy and uneven and reminds Chanyeol of 2015.
The three months since Junmyeon enlisted is probably the longest Chanyeol has spent without seeing him since they were introduced as teenagers. And since Junmyeon returned home from training, that’s mostly on Chanyeol for never taking the invite to visit. He’s had a busy summer, after all, and Junmyeon has other visitors to prioritise in his new 9-5 life.
“How much longer, do you think?”
Junmyeon looks across again, watching Chanyeol roll his finger pads together to try and lift away the sticky residue from his snack ten minutes ago. “I’ve never been here either.”
“Ah.” Chanyeol can’t sink down low like Junmyeon or his knees will press into the drivers seat, so he settles for folding his arms around himself and dropping his head back against the rest. They’ve been in the shadow of a mountain for a long time now, he’s getting cold.
🌲
The scenery is beautiful, and as they approach the cabin Chanyeol lets out an impressed whistle. It’s just him and the camera crew right now, Junmyeon dropped behind with the other staff. He had his own bag hanging heavy across his chest and was pulling Chanyeol’s case over uneven ground last time Chanyeol saw him.
Chanyeol paddles shin deep in a small, cool river serving as a border for the cabin’s land, inspects the layout and rows of leafy vegetables growing, and sounds as impressed and curious as possible for someone who has been in on this surprise for two months. As expected, Junmyeon has picked somewhere Chanyeol likes.
“Ah, is this where I’m staying?” Chanyeol presses his palms together, pulling himself in small to climb the narrow rock pathway leading up to the cabin. Honestly it’s more his style than the fancy glamping place Junmyeon had him and Sehun stay in January. The excitement is genuine, fizzy in his chest as he picks his way around wood and metal furnishings to reach the door. “Let’s look..”
The sound of Chanyeol’s head colliding with the door frame must be, he thinks, loud enough to scare off any animals within half a mile. The silence from the camera crew makes the embarrassment worse. Chanyeol laughs, ducks his head, ignores the rush of blood to where it’s already throbbing. They’ll edit in a cute sound effect and it won’t be embarrassing anymore, when it airs.
More impressed sounds, and the scent and gentle creak of warm wood quickly soothes away the unease after the jolt. It is a beautiful place to stay, inside and out. “Oh, what’s this?” Chanyeol scoots along the polished floor in his socks to another pre-planned surprise waiting for him.
This is all incredibly silly, and that makes it twice as fun as if Chanyeol had planned something by himself. Chanyeol reacts to Junmyeon’s message as though the man himself isn’t standing 10 feet away and itching to get inside out of the sun.
“Was this intentional?”
Junmyeon looks up from the book in his lap, mouth open with questions. It snaps shut again when he sees Chanyeol cradling the back of his head. “You think I checked the dimensions of a cabin in the most scenic area I could find to make sure you didn’t fit in it?”
Chanyeol prods at the tender section of his skull. This is at least the eighth time since they arrived that he’s cracked it against a doorway or ceiling beam; he must be losing brain matter by now. “Considering how you planned your own episodes for this show?” he huffs, dropping to his knees. Safer down here.
With a tiny shrug, Junmyeon looks back to the book. “Fans will love it,” he says, not denying that he is indeed an evil mastermind, “Cute gentle giant.”
Chanyeol snorts. “I only cursed off camera.”
“There you go then,” Junmyeon says.
Chanyeol flops down further, onto his belly so the wooden floor is cool against his bony knees. He picks at the rough skin around his nails and notices little scrapes he’s gained throughout the day despite wearing gloves. For a moments he watches Junmyeon read, sees the glazed look leave his eyes as a thought intrudes.
“Aside from that you’re happy with it though, right?” Junmyeon puts his finger between the pages and looks over at Chanyeol. “I was worried about picking this all out for you in case, you know,” his brows pinch, “They’re your episodes. I wanted somewhere you’d enjoy filming as well as fans enjoying seeing it.”
Chanyeol hums loudly at that. The sound vibrates through his palm, against the polished wood. It somehow feels different knowing there’s no apartments, roads, wires or other humans below. Just the earth.
“I don’t think that. That you were worried.” If there’s one thing Junmyeon doesn’t really fret over it’s his instincts for what the people closest to him need. “But yeah, I love it. Aside from it being like, the size of a gingerbread house.” Chanyeol flicks his fingers in gesture, though his bedroom seems to have the loftiest ceiling in the building. “It’s beautiful here. And I love my room.”
When Chanyeol had first walked in here his reaction hadn’t been for the camera. He’s been wondering if he’s ever told Junmyeon about this - what kind of room was his dream as a teen - and if Junmyeon had stored that information until it became useful.
“So, like, you told them to set it up like this?”
“Mm.” Junmyeon smiles, soft and lovely as always. Maybe a little more so now, a few months of enforced bedtimes and reduced responsibilities in. “They did a really good job.”
Chanyeol nods against his palm, and it makes him aware of the crick in his neck. He pushes up onto his elbows, biceps weakened from his day’s hard work, and with effort collapses back onto his behind. He’s glad he’d been working out before being expected to do rugged manly outdoors things for millions of people to see. “They did.”
For a moment longer Junmyeon looks around at the lights, the guitar, the records. “Well,” he sighs, dropping his place in the book and gently closing it, “I’d better go back to my less impressive room so you can film. And sleep.”
Chanyeol nods, watching Junmyeon stand and slot the book back into place. The title on the pale blue spine is in English, and Chanyeol doesn’t stop his smile as he wonders if Junmyeon could actually read it. “Straight to sleep, huh. No phones for us.”
“No,” Junmyeon says, “There should be something else for you, though, for if you can’t sleep straight away.” Chanyeol blinks at him curiously, but he just scrubs his fingers through tufts of short, dark hair. “Anyway, all this mountain air and foraging and stuff should make us tired. Goodnight, Chanyeol.”
Well, that’s true. Chanyeol knows even his overactive brain can’t compete with the kind of full body tiredness that comes from a good day of exertion. “Yeah. Night, Junmyeonnie-hyung.”
“Do your video diary before you get comfy, just in case,” Junmyeon says as he heads out of the door. There’s a smile in the shape of his words. The door clicks softly behind him, and Chanyeol leaves it approximately two seconds before diving across to his bed to investigate what the treat he’d missed was.
(It’s a game, like the kind he’d played as a teen. Like he’d probably mentioned to Junmyeon once, years ago. Chanyeol gets up and washes his face again before filming his video diary.)
🌲
For three hours Chanyeol cooks. He eats the result in barely three minutes, hungry from the spent energy and frustration. It’s another four hours when he finally retreats to the cool of the cabin. “I’m in here,” he calls to anyone else who may be, sits in the least sunlit strip of the main room, tugs his damp socks off. Laying down flat makes his back twinge. He curls like a drying leaf for a moment, settling down to the wood with a sigh. He really loves doing this kind of thing.
“The staff must have some kind of internet connection, somehow,” he muses out loud to himself, “Couldn’t do all this work..”. He hasn’t asked anyone to get him contraband data yet, because Junmyeon is right - he did want to cut down on screen time. His eyes hurt enough from the smoke he’s been creating all morning. Being out here is clearing his head, even if it is still a form of work. After the first few hours he found the compulsion to slip his phone out of his pocket was lessening. He’d left it in his bag this morning. Junmyeon..he probably isn’t faring as well, but Chanyeol hasn’t seen him since breakfast.
It won’t be long until the next task is set up. Chanyeol’s itchy with drying sweat, will be fussed over by stylists any moment now so he only looks as disheveled as is attractive. He couldn’t place the last time his mind had stopped racing enough to consider sleeping naturally rather than just knocking out when the exhaustion finally hit, white morning light behind his blinds and his second documentary of the night still playing. He folds his hands to cradle his head, drifting to the scent of smoke.
The second night they take turns to step into the small space with the basin, alternating drying off and brushing teeth and rinsing. The toothpaste Chanyeol packed is cinnamon and when Junmyeon sees the tube he grumbles about how it’ll burn his mouth. His own bag is all the way in his room, and who knows how many years it’s been since they had to ask before sharing.
“It would have been nice to film Showtime in summer, don’t you think?” Junmyeon asks. He’s standing just outside the door, head level with Chanyeol’s chin. It’s one small step down into the tiled room with the basin. “Going camping and to the sea in winter, it was..”
“Entertainment value,” Chanyeol says, then splashes his face with a cupped handful of water.
“I know. It’s fun to think back on, even if we were all cold and tired at the time.” Junmyeon disappears out of sight, leans back against the thick wooden beam framing the doorway. He sighs, content, muscles relaxing. It’s been a long, long time since Chanyeol’s heard that.
Junmyeon claimed he’d been busy helping the staff for the majority of the day, and Chanyeol mostly believes that. Junmyeon’s diligent and always lightens the load for others if he can. But these staff have worked with them for years, know Junmyeon’s on the little vacation he gets, and Chanyeol’s pretty sure they’d want Junmyeon to relax. Chanyeol spotted him sometime around noon near the little river with a notebook in his hand, then didn’t see him again until dinner. And then again now, when Junmyeon heard Chanyeol run water and appeared from the small room opposite Chanyeol’s bedroom with a towel around his shoulders.
“Maybe Kyungsoo is on to something,” Junmyeon says, and now he’s peering around the doorframe again. Chanyeol’s always found him an absurd kind of handsome - like he shouldn’t be so hot all the time, and Chanyeol should be able to laugh at him for something, but somehow he just fits unfairly beautifully into his form. “How would you feel about living out somewhere like this running a farm? It’s nice, isn’t it.”
Chanyeol hums. The mirror in here is cloudy and he feels more than sees bumps that have formed on his chin and nose from the past two days of sweat and change in routine. “Nice if you want to do it full time,” he decides, “But..” Unfortunately he likes city life and an unstructured lifestyle too much for a change with so much commitment. Chanyeol likes familiarity, but he doesn’t liked to be tied to only one place.
Junmyeon, on the other hand, he likes setting down roots. He loves to leave, but he loves knowing exactly what he’s coming back to. Chanyeol knew Junmyeon had desperately wanted to travel before enlisting. Somewhere like Rome again, or Paris or back to LA, or maybe even somewhere new. Chanyeol misses his trips to Japan, but that’s different. Junmyeon had wanted to go, but now no one can go, and that’d seem more fair if Chanyeol didn’t know Junmyeon’s male travel companions are part of the reason he likes to get lost in faraway cities.
Anyway.
Chanyeol’s moisturises with gentle dabs of his middle fingers, very aware of eyes on him. He’s shown Junmyeon a hundred times how you’re supposed to apply, but Junmyeon’s just too naturally heavy handed. Chanyeol gets by fine with storebrand products while Junmyeon’s tend to all be prescribed and have a weird tang to them under the scent.
“What are you using?” Junmyeon leans in through the doorway and all the thick muscle in his deltoids stands out under his grey shirt. “Can I try it?”
“Ah.” Chanyeol raises a large hand, fingers spread, and it entirely blocks Junmyeon’s view.
Somehow they haven’t talked at all about what kind of year it’s been. Junmyeon is only at home, after all, he knows how the cafes have changed and has no issue with wearing a mask while he’s in public. His work is far stricter than anything Chanyeol is doing. It isn’t like when they were feeding information back to Minseok and Kyungsoo, explaining what life is like right now. Somehow they haven’t really talked about anything yet.
🌲
“You’re here.”
“You’re here,” Junmyeon retaliates. It’s sleepy, no bite. Not enough of an issue to be alert for. His muscular calf is sticking out from the draped net over Chanyeol’s blankets, the rest of his small body sprawled diagonally across. The bruises and scrapes from outdoor life are more noticeable on his smooth pale skin. His phone is on Chanyeol’s pillow, gallery open. “You aren’t sleeping in the tent?”
“Wind picked up,” Chanyeol says, musses his nearly dry hair. It wasn’t cold, but it was kind of spooky out there with the wind rustling and rattling all the decorations he’d been instructed to mount around the tent, and he was pleased to have a final night in this room. He’s all ready to get in those blankets and sleep. “Anyway, I’m stiff enough from sleeping in here, let alone in a bag in a vegetable garden. I pulled something getting in that hammock that hasn’t settled.” Life away from home is hard once you get rich and famous enough to buy an orthopaedic mattress.
Junmyeon pouts. “Sorry, I chose that. I thought you’d like it.”
Junmyeon couldn’t have set up every little thing about this concept himself. He doesn’t really game seriously (not even after Chanyeol got him that laptop to make sure he’d play), certainly not enough to come up with all of this. Most of the rewards Chanyeol has been winning feel impersonal and convenient. The hammock had been..wrong in that respect. “I did, it just didn’t like me.”
Junmyeon sits up. The light from his phone cuts out, leaving the border of the room glowing with fairy lights. Chanyeol’s dream teenage bedroom, and Junmyeon’s in his bed. He’s not sure he ever told Junmyeon that was part of the dream.
“Stay there,” Chanyeol gestures indistinctly, “Just move up. If we touch we’ll get super sweaty.”
The whole of today has felt happy, in a sunstroke delirious way. Chanyeol made coffee sitting out on a table he’d also made (because that happened? He just showed up to work this morning and built a table with his bare hands?), and then he wore a big straw hat to take photos. He took a lot of selfies, too. In that outfit he looked like a child, how rural kids in dramas always look in their idealised summers. Just very oversized. His shins are covered in bites and thin scratches now, on his final day of tasks and foraging around in long grass, but that’ll be edited out. For him, any that don’t heal neatly will be a little reminder of one of the strangest summers of his life.
“What’s wrong with your bed?” Chanyeol asks, but it’s not really a question. Junmyeon probably doesn’t have pretty lights in his room. And Chanyeol isn’t Sehun, but Junmyeon always sleeps better in a bed that feels like someone else belongs in it.
Chanyeol kneels and bats at the white netting to find his way in. He thinks of summer with Sehun, in a villa they pretended was theirs in moments between photos. Chanyeol put a veil over his head, and even indoors everything smelled of fresh oranges. They had some fun drunken nights. Tomorrow Junmyeon will go back to work, and Chanyeol will be sent to a hotel to hopefully have a few more fun drunken nights with the staff.
When Chanyeol sleeps he tends to lay diagonal, but they’re side by side, so his heels are touching the wooden floor past the end of the mattress. Even the tiny point of contact where Junmyeon’s elbow is amiably nestled at Chanyeol’s ribs feels hot. Chanyeol doesn’t want him to leave, so he doesn’t fidget. “So, Junmyeonnie-hyung,” he turns his head, “Is this the part where you bully me into saying I’ve missed you?”
“Oh, Park Chanyeol.” Even in the dim light Chanyeol sees Junmyeon roll his eyes, and then they close. “I haven’t bullied you since our early twenties.”
A moment passes - this evidently isn’t the part where Junmyeon wants to hear things Chanyeol will only admit under pressure. Well, fine. Chanyeol tastes sweat on his upper lip. He’s put himself under enough pressure for the past three months for the both of them. “We kind of, y’know, when we filmed in January.. fuck, it was so cold. Remember how we had our winter coats indoors? It must be freezing here in the winter.”
Junmyeon hums softly, nods. “What about when we filmed in January?”
They’d kind of..they hadn’t exactly had a moment. Not then, in January. They’d had the moment before. Many small moments that equated to Junmyeon letting down his final defence, a hug that was impossible minutes before it happened. A second hug, their arms hooked around each other and Chanyeol with no idea what Junmyeon was seeking. He’d never expected to actually break Junmyeon down, so he offered anything he felt would help. And then January made it real, sharp and in focus, and they talked but they didn’t talk about it. Chanyeol brought him flowers and bought him drinks in April. Saying a formal goodbye to Junmyeon felt stupid when they knew he’d only be gone a month. Chanyeol barely cried before he got his hands on Junmyeon’s head for the photo, but of course he did cry.
“I have missed you,” he admits freely, because that’s an easier topic than how they started the year. “It’s weird without you. Even when we’re all doing our own stuff, it’s..it’s- been fine, y’know, I know you know.” Chanyeol drums his fingers over his belly, counter rhythm to the fluttering. “You always know everything.”
Junmyeon smiles at that. “I feel like a fan,” he says, and the sigh Chanyeol feels warm against his arm is so fond. “Checking what you’re all doing when I wake up and when I commute home.”
“You shouldn’t watch my Instagram lives, hyung.” Chanyeol does move then, so he can jostle Junmyeon playfully. “3am on a work night?”
Unfortunately moving had the effect Chanyeol had anticipated, and he misses the unwelcome heat as soon as it’s gone. Junmyeon huffs as he pushes up onto an elbow, his other hand coming to smooth down his tufty hair. “Speaking of late nights, I should probably leave you to it.”
Chanyeol turns onto his side. If Junmyeon wants to get out he’ll have to climb. “I already filmed my goodnight. While you were washing up.” He squints to make Junmyeon’s features out in the low light, trying to see if this is likely to be a winning battle. “You can just stay here, hyung. It’s the last time we’ll be together for a while.”
Chanyeol isn’t so obnoxious as to say he knows Junmyeon gets absurdly lonely and the past few days seem like they’ve been challenging. But he must still seem at least a little obnoxious; as Junmyeon settles back down he says, “You haven’t made fun of me yet. Are you saving it up for a special occasion?”
“No?” Frowning, Chanyeol folds his arm to rest his cheek on and curls in more to wriggle closer. They’re knee to knee, almost elbow to elbow. The small welt below Junmyeon’s eyebrow is noticeable in shadow and would fit the pad of Chanyeol’s pinky finger perfectly. “What would I make fun of?”
“My hair, for a start,” Junmyeon wrinkles his nose, “I know it gets that little kink in it so it always looks uneven when it’s this short.”
Oh. Well. Maybe if it was in front of an audience who’d find it funny. It’ll be a long time until Chanyeol can gently threaten or whine at Junmyeon on Instagram for everyone to enjoy.
“And my skin is so bad again,” Junmyeon sighs, still a little smile even as he runs fingers across the tender bumps Chanyeol definitely wasn’t going to mention, “And since I’ve been off that diet I followed last year..”
“You know how I did music for that installation? Since then I’ve been visiting art galleries,” Chanyeol derails, “Yeah, like, got really into the whole gallery thing recently.”
“Without me?” Junmyeon pouts, although he never invites Chanyeol to exhibitions because he knows they like different styles of art.
Chanyeol got a Hockney piece, one of the generic recognisable ones, propped it against his bar. He got it because he liked the colours and name attached, not because it was symbolic or anything. But when Junmyeon texted him three days after the nng update with the piece obnoxiously visible to say he had that print, too, Chanyeol wasn’t sure if that meant something. Does sharing iconic gay art with someone mean something?
“I got tired of waiting for my turn.”
“Your turn is whenever you want it to be, Chanyeollie. I’d always make time for you, you know that.” The firmness to it is new. You do know that? is in his warm eyes, and Chanyeol figures something really must have shifted during the new year if Junmyeon’s trusting him with non-verbal emotions that are soft rather than pointy.
Chanyeol hums. “You say that and then never offer first, so I figure you’re just polite and it’s insincere.”
“You are bullying me.” Junmyeon points a stubby finger at himself. At that moment the wind finds the exact angle to rattle the windows, like it’s backing him up. “Bullying me on Instagram, bullying me in person..no wonder people think we don’t like each other, you’re always like this when I’m nice.”
Junmyeon has been there for Chanyeol every day of his life that he’s needed him. Even when Junmyeon would make him cry one moment and rub his back the next, hiss criticism and whisper encouragement. Junmyeon’s love can be tough, but he soothes like he’s the safest, most secure landmark in Chanyeol’s life.
“When this is over and you’re back- when I’m back, when we’re done with needing to be away, I want my turn.”
“Yeah?”
It’s the lightest touch to Chanyeol’s wrist, just the tip and scratchy nail of Junmyeon’s index finger. Not exactly a poke. After a moment he starts to rub.
“I mean it. Take me on a gallery date,” Chanyeol says, watching Junmyeon touching him and feeling the baited breath swelling inside his ribs, “Take me on a proper date, like you take all the others on.”
Junmyeon laughs, sleepy now. “You wouldn’t like-”
“How do you know I wouldn’t if we’ve never tried?”
“Because I know you.” Junmyeon brushes along Chanyeol’s tattoo, then drops his hand. “Goodnight, Chanyeol,” he says, gives Chanyeol’s hair a light, fond ruffle, and turns over before there can be any discussion.
Stunned by the abrupt end to the conversation, Chanyeol takes a moment to decide that yeah, they probably should be asleep by now. He combs his fingers through his hair to rake it all back into place. For a split second he takes in Junmyeon’s narrow shoulders, considers being a pain and smacking his palm into the space between shoulder blades that’s barely big enough to fit his hand. “Yeah,” he grumbles, “Goodnight, hyung.”
This room - this cabin, the entire setup of this premise - isn’t something Chanyeol can argue with. They’re surrounded by Junmyeon’s understanding of him, but Chanyeol isn’t sure what that means. Like not knowing if owning art by Junmyeon’s second favourite artist, like displaying it is a potential act of queerness in itself, means something. He should know Chanyeol likes to be petulant and stop having an answer for everything.
🌲
When Chanyeol first opens his eyes he’s entirely convinced that he’s still dreaming. He’s in his ideal teenage room, after all. The blankets beside him still have the lingering sleep warmth from Junmyeon spending the night, and Junmyeon is here, crouched down and holding the netting aside so he can lean into Chanyeol’s safe little nest.
“I said my car is here, Chanyeollie.” Junmyeon’s evidently repeating himself. He checks his watch, and Chanyeol tries to blink himself back into reality. Surely this is the part where Junmyeon kisses him goodbye, says he loves him..Chanyeol’s intensely embarrassed that Junmyeon is here in person to both recreate and witness Chanyeol’s dream scenario after 15 long years.
Chanyeol’s first attempt at speaking is what he imagines the frog he saw by the stream yesterday would have sounded like. He blearily hoists himself upright and finds the room looks much the same as it did when they went to sleep. “Is the sun even up?” he manages after clearing his throat.
Junmyeon shakes his head. He’s right - his hair always develops a totally untameable little kink to it when it’s so short. He has a face mask hanging from his right ear and is wearing, from what Chanyeol can make out in the soft light, something that looks part office job and part forgot-to-change-from-morning-run-before-work. “It probably will be by the time I leave though, if you’d like to see.”
The temptation to steal a morning kiss and ruin their career together and spend an hour longer in his ideal bedroom is there, it really is. But it’d be a shame to miss a sunrise here, and they have another 15 years ahead, maybe even more, for that other part. It’s the first morning since Chanyeol was eleven that he doesn’t even think about his phone before clambering out of bed.
The morning air is a shock of cold to Chanyeol’s bare arms and knees. While the sun is still just a glow of pink and purple behind the mountains it’s chilly even with days where heatstroke is a risk. Dew brushes onto Chanyeol’s shins as he clambers down the stone steps laid into the bank to reach the path. Another beautiful day out in the middle of nowhere, and Chanyeol aches in approximately nineteen places. This rustic living thing is nice and all, but he can’t wait to get to the hotel and soak in the tub for the rest of the evening. He can catch up on his texts and eat in there, who cares if he turns incurably pruny. Prunes don’t have to work or enlist or have complicated emotions.
Junmyeon is waiting by the car. He’s wearing a silly hat now, some kind of beret. Which is a shame, because Chanyeol had hoped to touch his hair before he left, and because it’s humiliating being attracted to someone wearing a ridiculous little beret.
Chanyeol leans his hip against the car, folds his arms, and says, “You know the weirdest thing? This is like, genuinely the first time I’ve known someone with a normal 9 to 5 job.”
“8 to 5,” Junmyeon amends. He has his bag slung over his shoulder this time, his neckline caught under the strap and exposing a pink itchy bite on his pale collarbone. “Usually more like 8 to 6 or 7.”
Chanyeol scuffs his sandal into a tyre mark in the dirt path. “The point,” he huffs, “Is that it’s weird. You’re normal now.”
Junmyeon hums placidly at that. He’s glancing at his watch again, so, yeah. They had their chance to talk last night. The next time..who knows when that’ll be. “Time to say goodbye,” Junmyeon prompts, already opening his arms.
Hugging Junmyeon without either of them stiffening in disapproval or hurried back slapping to make it end is still a relatively novel experience. Junmyeon is solid and strong and quiet, like he’s really focusing his energy into it. His bag presses into Chanyeol’s side, his jaw a soft line along Chanyeol’s bicep. He can’t even perch up on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “We never finished making plans, hyung,” Chanyeol says more as an excuse to pull back and let Junmyeon see him frown. His heart has always been too soft for small adorable things; if he held Junmyeon for a moment too long he’d never be able to let go. “You’re too intimidated by the challenge to take me on a date, I knew it.”
It’s a joke, it’s a joke. Playful bickering, what they’re best at. Chanyeol anticipates a light punch to his arm, not Junmyeon assuming his deep thinking stance. (Chanyeol has way too many quirks catalogued in the Junmyeon section of his brain. Or does that live in his heart?).
“The way I see it,” Junmyeon starts, and it’s the same moment Chanyeol realises he didn’t let go. His hand is still bunched in fabric at Chanyeol’s side. “Isn’t it more romantic to know you’d hate my kind of date so to do something else?”
No. Chanyeol really does wish just sometimes Junmyeon didn’t always have answers. Junmyeon always understands, touches him like it’s easy. “Who said I wanted to actually enjoy it?” is the most intelligent thing Chanyeol can muster before sunrise.
Junmyeon smiles at him, broad and boyish. There’s a small pink strip across his nose where the sun caught him over the past few days. “Have you ever though we should just try saying what we mean?”
Detaching Junmyeon’s fingers from his side is like trying to pry a cat’s claws out of a sweater without pulling a thread. Chanyeol tucks Junmyeon’s arms back at his sides, and Junmyeon giggles, immediately crooks his elbow to check his watch again. “See the sunrise with me before you go, hyung. You can leave as soon as it’s up.”
“Is that your answer?”
“No.” Dry dirt and loose stones crunch under Chanyeol’s foot as he steps away from the car. The grass beside the path feels strange and cushiony underfoot. He wants a clear view of the mountains, even if it’s not like you can stare directly into a sunrise once it’s spilled too far into the morning. “Even in all this time with all those dumb schedules, we’ve hardly seen any sunrises together,” he says, already squinting against the white light showing through the hills and clouds. “Like, not like this.”
Junmyeon joins him on the grass, away from the car. “Not like this, no.” He smiles, and Chanyeol realises his mask is still dangling from one ear and looks ridiculous, along with his ridiculous little beret and stupid fancy bag. Stupid weekend in an isolated cabin together, watching the stupid sunrise.
“Nearly,” Chanyeol tells Junmyeon, as though his extra height gives him a better view. Junmyeon hums and nestles amiably against Chanyeol’s shoulder to watch, which probably makes it mean something.