Work Text:
Chenle is about to pull what many people would call an Ultimate-Broke-College-Kid move.
Chenle is on his way to his favourite hair salon— the one by the overpriced cafe a few streets down from the university. Whereas the cafe was selling overpriced brioche and croissants, the salon was full of what Chenle would proudly call “a world of bargains”.
What Chenle actually means is that the hair salon also doubles up as a hair academy . Which means that they have students studying hairstyling at the salon. Which means they have discounted rates for people willing to get their haircut by said students.
Most people wouldn’t willingly let themselves be the guinea pigs of random students who, sometimes, have no prior experience at all, but, you see, Chenle is in his third year of college. Student debt is hitting hard , and just yesterday he had to awkwardly walk out of a restaurant because he couldn’t afford a single thing on the menu. And, besides, who can resist a $5 haircut, at a nice swanky hair salon, hair wash included? In Chenle’s defence, they’ve done a very decent job so far. His scalp is still healthy. His split ends get snipped off diligently. Chenle will take what he can get.
Chenle walks right past the cafe, and stops in front of the hair salon. He pushes his way through the front door, and is met with the familiar sound of noisy hair dryers, and the smell of floral shampoo.
“Hey,” he says, as he reaches the counter. “I have a colour appointment at,” he checks the clock, and he’s just on time, “two pm, please.”
The lady behind the registration looks up at him, and Chenle realizes they must’ve hired someone new. He’s just about to give his full name and mobile number, when the head stylist notices him from across the salon.
“Hey, Chenle!” Ten says, and he slides behind the register, comb still in hand. Chenle gives a polite smile in response. He then scans through the registration book quickly with his eye, and taps at what looks to be Chenle’s name scribbled on the book. “Ah, here it is. Colour appointment, right?”
“Yep,” Chenle beams, “is it Jungwoo again this time?”
“Nah,” Ten says, shaking his head, “Jungwoo graduated from apprenticeship two weeks ago. You’ve got a newbie today.”
A newbie, Chenle thinks. And where most people would get worried and start rescheduling an appointment, excitement continues to stir in the pit of Chenle’s belly. It’s what Renjun calls the Chenle effect — the ability to feel excitement when the only thing facing him should very well be utter chaos.
He’s quickly plopped into a salon chair, adorned with one of those hairdressing gowns with the arm holes so he can still use his phone while getting his haircut(thank you, millennials who run hair salons), and he’s just about to whip out his phone from his pocket when a tall, looming shadow peers over him.
Chenle looks up at the person behind the mirror and gulps. Hard.
The first thing he notices is that the boy is… tall.
“Hi, I’m your hairdresser for the day— it’s my first week so please go easy on me,” the boy says, but all Chenle can focus on is his perfect nose, pretty heart-shaped lips, chiseled jawline—
“What colour were you looking at getting?”
Chenle blinks a few times. Then, he straightens up, finally peeling his eyes away from the boy to look at himself in the mirror. “Chestnut brown,” Chenle gargles, throat tightening, and truthfully he barely gets the words out.
More on that later.
The boy scratches the back of his head. “Oh, that’s kind of a difficult colour…” he starts, getting quieter with each word, “but that’s okay! I’ll try my best!”
He quickly disappears to the back of the shop, and remerges with an apron of his own (Chenle has never seen anyone else at the store look that cute in the apron. Sorry, Ten), and a trolley filled with hair dye products.
The first hour passes with one pass of bleach over Chenle’s hair, which really doesn’t concern him much, because his hair is a dark black, and a chestnut brown probably wouldn’t show well.
The second hour includes… another round of bleach? And… is that more bleach? Which gives him a very light yellow blonde. Quickly replaced by a platinum blonde with the toner the boy had just put on his head.
Honestly, this is the part where alarm bells should’ve started ringing in Chenle’s head, because chestnut brown definitely does not require three rounds of bleach and purple toner.
The thing is, Chenle is also a firm believer of the term “trust the process”, so all this, though slightly concerning, does nothing to really heighten Chenle’s worries. Plus, all the extra steps means that he can sit here and look at his hairstylist for a few more minutes… or hours….
So, by the third hour, the boy is adding some suspiciously green paste to his hair. Not that Chenle notices until his whole head is covered in it, because he was busy staring at the boy through the mirror the whole time, of course.
Suddenly, the boy leans over, putting his hands over Chenle’s shoulder. Chenle fails to breathe.
“What are you…”
“Ah,” he says, startled enough that he stops in his tracks, far too close to Chenle’s face, “I’m going to bring you to wash your hair…”
Right.
Chenle looks at the mirror. He still has the suspicious green stuff on his hair. He shrugs, and lets himself get led to the hair washing stations.
And Chenle really didn’t expect to be transported to the third dimension on a Wednesday afternoon, in a hair salon, but, man, Jisung has some magic fingers. Or hands.
The way he massages the shampoo into Chenle’s hair, rubs behind his ears, knuckles at his nape undoing all those knots he’d gotten while hunched over his notes at the school library… All Chenle can smell is grapefruit shampoo, and all he can feel is complete and utter bliss.
Chenle almost whimpers when he lets go of his scalp to turn the tap back on, and he honestly would’ve if the water that hits his scalp wasn’t an arctic temperature.
“Oh, shit,” Jisung says under his breath, when he sees Chenle visibly shiver, finally remembering to test the water with his hands. “That’s way too cold.”
Chenle can’t see what’s going on, eyes trained on the ceiling as he hears Jisung fumble with the tap behind him.
“Ah, fuck!” Jisung exclaims, and Chenle almost gets up, before remembering his hair is soaking wet. He’s just about to ask what’s wrong, when he sees steam rising from behind him.
“Too hot?”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, “sorry about that. These tap knobs are really sensitive.”
Chenle hums. “Is it two knobs?”
“Yeah.”
“Turn the one on the right clockwise?” Chenle suggests.
Jisung does as he’s told, and Chenle can see the steam start to dissipate. Then, Jisung aims it at Chenle’s scalp.
“Still too hot,” Chenle says. “Turn the knob a bit more?”
The water gets cooler. “A little more...Okay! Stop! This is good.”
“This is so embarrassing,” Jisung deadpans.
“You’re doing great, rookie!”
Jisung chuckles, albeit a little sheepishly, and gets to washing Chenle’s hair, getting the soaps and suds out of his freshly dyed hair.
By the time he’s back in the salon chair, Chenle has realized that his hair has basically become suspiciously green— the exact same colour as the stuff that had been put on his hair just minutes ago.
Then it’s minutes of the loud rumble of the blowdryer, the boy fumbling around with the styling brush, and pomade.
Chenle looks into the mirror. His hair is dry. And a very pastel green. Mint chocolate ice cream green. Statue of liberty after the copper has oxidized mint green. Green.
Chenle is half-hoping this is just a result of leaving the mint green hair treatment on his hair for too long and that the boy is going to dye his hair brown after this.
But, of course. He doesn’t. He sets the pomade down and simply does awkward jazz hands belatedly remembering to grab the little mirror to show Chenle the back of his head.
Maybe the back is brown?
Chenle quickly realizes to put that hopefulness away, too. His hair is completely mint green.
“Do you… do you like it?” The boy asks, nibbling on his lower lip, making him look more like a hamster than he already does.
He looks like a kicked puppy.
“Of course!” Chenle says, floundering, “this is exactly what I wanted.” He plays with his hair a bit, trying to sell the concept. “It’s great! Thank you!”
Chenle wouldn’t really consider himself a good actor, nor would he even consider himself a good liar. But the boy seems to have been reassured by this, now beaming at Chenle, and honestly, Chenle would get his hair dyed the wrong colour a thousand more times if it means he could see the boy’s heart-shaped smile one more time.
Either way, mint green hair isn’t that bad… right?
-
“That,” Renjun says, flinging his bag onto his side of the room, “is not chestnut brown.”
“It most definitely is,” Chenle says (lies), “are you colour-blind?”
Renjun walks up to Chenle, towering over him from where he’s sitting in his painfully uncomfortable college chair. Seriously. They need to invest in new chairs. He’s going to have chronic back pains before he’s thirty.
He sticks out a hand to inspect Chenle’s hair. It is definitely not chestnut brown.
“It is definitely not chestnut brown,” Renjun says, “this is mint green. I thought you wanted chestnut brown for a boy next door look or whatever the hell you were going on about that day?”
Chenle pats his mint green hair down, from where Renjun had messed it up a little. “I, uh, didn’t really choose mint green.”
Renjun stares at him, emotionless. Senior year really takes a toll on you.
“What.”
“The stylist, like, heard me wrong. I think. Which is fine! Because this hair colour actually really suits me and—”
“Why didn’t you just, I don’t know,” Renjun says, shaking his head, “tell him?”
Chenle pouts. “But he would’ve been so sad…”
“He got your hair colour completely wrong!”
“But I’d hate to see him sad!”
If Renjun’s eyes could shoot holes into Chenle’s skull right now, he’s convinced the thing would look like swiss cheese.
“Oh my god. You’re the dumbest gay I’ve met. Was he cute.”
Chenle nibbles on his bottom lip.
“He was cute, wasn’t he?”
Chenle chews on his bottom lip.
“Aha!” Renjun says, pointing at him, “you have a crush!”
“Shut up!”
“Oh, this is good,” Renjun says, flopping hard onto his own bed, hands behind his head, “this is so good. ”
“Please stop laughing at my misery. It’s not even a proper crush. He’s just cute. Eye-candy,” Chenle protests, folding his arms like a petulant child.
“Blah blah blah,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes, “all I’m hearing is My name is Zhong Chenle and I have a crush on the cute hair stylist who also sucks at his job.”
“Hey! He does not suck. The mint green is nice and hard to get right!”
Renjun does not respond, instead busy tapping away at his phone.
“What are you doing.”
“Huh?” Renjun says, barely looking up from his phone, “oh, nothing. Just telling Jeno about your little crush. ”
Chenle groans. “I hate you.”
Renjun makes a fake kissy face to Chenle. Chenle gags.
“Stop using me as a way to forge emotional connections with your own eye-candy.”
“He is not my eye-candy!” Renjun tsks, “Jeno is my very good friend who also happens to be very hot.”
“And my hair stylist also happens to be very hot.”
Renjun shrugs. “Touché. So, are you going to keep it?”
Chenle looks at himself in the mirror.
Well. It’s not like he can fork up another wad of cash in the next week or two, can he?
-
As it turns out, he can. As Renjun teases him, when the heart wants what it wants, there is a way.
He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror on a fine Tuesday morning. His green hair stares back at him.
It’s not that Chenle even hates the mint green that much. In fact, it grows on him quite a bit, despite the stares he gets when he goes for lectures— the mint green goes with his pale skin quite nicely, and he’s gotten multiple compliments on it while just making his rounds on campus.
It’s that… Chenle didn’t even get a name, and he really, really wants to see that boy again…
-
Chenle gets to see the boy again!
Which shouldn’t be such a happy occasion, because he’s forking out money from his already dead wallet again, but in his defense, he’d opted for a haircut rather than a hair dye session so it would be cheaper. And also so he wouldn’t have to explain to the cute hairdresser why he’s changing his hair colour so soon after getting it done.
This time, he asks for something simple: no special layers, no mullet. Just a simple trim. And he makes sure to articulate it properly this time. No way he’ll get it wrong this time, right?
“Ow, fuck,” the boy whispers, under his breath. Chenle definitely wasn’t supposed to hear that, but, unfortunately for him, Chenle has become hyper-aware at every single one of his hair appointments. It’s definitely not because Chenle thinks he’s cute.
Chenle almost whips right around, but remembers that that could be bad for his hair. He looks at him, who’s folded his very lanky upper half over his palm, through the mirror.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” the boy says, making eye contact with Chenle through the mirror. “I just nicked myself. Haha. Don’t worry about it! I should be fine.”
Chenle finally turns around, and his eyes dart to his hand. There’s a tiny cut on his finger, a small droplet of blood dripping from it, and though it’s not a huge wound, Chenle’s suffered enough paper cuts to know it definitely stings. Seriously. Those things are the work of the devil himself.
His adorable hairdresser doesn’t do much except stare at the wound and curses under his breath, before Chenle decides that he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands (and no, that doesn’t mean he’s cutting his own hair).
He digs into his wallet and, sure enough, just as he’d thought, there’s a spare bandaid in there— one of the rare benefits of having Renjun as a roommate. He must’ve slipped it in there when they argued over being prepared the previous week. It wasn’t his fault he got caught in the rain and caught a cold because he didn’t have an umbrella. You can blame the skies for that one, Renjun.
Chenle reaches out to hold the boy’s hand, and applies the bandaid as gently as he can. He smooths down both the sticky sides of the bandaid. He looks at all of this with wide eyes, unmoving.
“I- thanks,” he says.
“Want me to kiss it better?” Chenle jokes.
What he expects is a giggle, or at least an awkward laugh, but then Chenle remembers that this is a bumble of a human we’re talking about, who, in the course of Chenle meeting him, has only shown two emotions– utter distress or adorably focused.
So, of course, he goes into utter distress mode— his face flushes bright red, right down to his neck, and Chenle wants to pat the poor boy on the head so badly.
“I’m kidding,” Chenle says, trying to put him out of his misery.
“I- yeah. Sorry. Thanks,” he ends up stammering out.
Luckily, the rest of his hairdressing appointment goes quite smoothly. Other than the boy being seemingly unable to work the vacuum that sucks up all the fallen hair, his haircut isn’t even half bad.
It’s just before he leaves the hair salon that the boy rushes back up to him, arms outstretched with a little card.
“By the way!” He says, calling after Chenle, “here’s my business card… I didn’t give one to you the first time because it was my first week and they hadn’t been printed but… yeah…”
And then he scurries off to the back of the store before Chenle can say anything.
He peers down at the card. Printed on a nice piece of cardstock, reads:
Neo Arts Hair Salon and Academy
Trainee Stylist
Park Jisung.
-
Chenle twiddles his thumbs. He spins his pen. He dog-ears his book. Highlights a couple random lines from the paragraph he’s reading.
Chenle is bored.
And when Chenle is bored, he finds his brain wandering towards his very dead love life. So dead he wonders what his exes from high school are up to. Not because he’s still interested in them, but simply because he has nothing else to think about .
This time, however, Chenle finds himself thinking about the cute hair stylist he met a week ago. Which would be a perfectly decent and fine thought, if Chenle wasn’t so acutely aware that times like this he’s meant to think about his love life. Relationships. Desire.
Wait a minute.
Chenle sighs out his nose. Long and hard.
Renjun was right. He does have a crush.
Chenle slides his chair back, and flops right onto his bed. Groans into the pillow, then slams his head into it again for good measure. He reaches over to his phone, and punches in a, at this point, very familiar number.
After a short conversation on the phone, he adds to his calendar:
Wednesday 5pm: Hair dye appointment with Jisung!!
-
“You dyed your hair again,” Renjun deadpans.
Chenle cracks an awkward smile and does jazz hands. “Um… ta-da?”
Renjun sets his pen down and pushes his glasses further up his nose bridge. He inspects Chenle’s hair— purple, now— and sighs out loud.
Chenle knows this isn’t a good sign. He calls it Renjun’s Mom mode , where he gets a looong talking to about whatever the hell he’s done wrong again. Once it was about bringing a rat home because he felt bad for it. Then, it was about calling him out for ‘animal cruelty’ when he was forced to let the poor thing go.
Chenle still remembers the tiny little thing. He was just hungry. Rest easy, Fiddlebonk the Rat.
“You can’t keep dyeing your hair just to see the boy. You’ll be bald before your senior year. Hell, you might even be bald by next semester!”
“His name is Jisung,” Chenle pouts.
“Oh, great, he has a name!” Renjun says, voice dripping with endless amounts of sarcasm.
“You need to stop pining,” Renjun continues, cutting right to the chase. “Do something!”
“Like what?”
“Ask him out!”
“AAAA,” Chenle whines, voice quivering in a very unflattering way that makes him sound like Luigi.
“If you come back with a different hair colour next week I’m kicking you out of our flat.”
“You can’t do that!” Chenle pouts, again.
“I very much can,” Renjun says, “and I will. ”
His brain goes back to the rat, of course, and it’s untimely demise caused by the mouse trap Renjun had threatened to use. Chenle has learnt long ago not to take Renjun’s words with a pinch of salt.
-
Love, for Chenle, at least, seems to manifest itself in the weirdest, most mundane places. Like the hair salon. And the grocery store?
The first thing Chenle thinks when he picks up a box of cereal is that this will last him a whole two weeks. The second thing he thinks is: wait, that boy looks like Jisung!
It can’t be Jisung. Not on the day where he looks like trash, his eye bags as dark and heavy as the readings he keeps getting assigned for his courses, his hair as messy as his desk, his clothes consisting of sweatpants and a hoodie he hasn’t washed in god knows how long.
“...Chenle?” Jisung says, when he finally recognizes him because clearly hiding behind a display stand of Cheerios didn’t work, “what are you doing here…?”
Chenle gestures to the groceries in his basket, and then vaguely to the groceries around them. “Getting groceries. It’s a grocery store, Jisung. What else could I be doing?”
Jisung makes a tiny ah sound, and then stares at Chenle. Chenle shrinks just a little bit. And by a little bit, he means a lot. Was there something on his face from lunch? Did Renjun pull a stupid prank in his sleep again? Because if he did Chenle was going to make sure he didn’t see another day and he’s definitely going to get revenge-
“Your hair,” Jisung starts, finally breaking the silence, “it’s faded.”
Chenle throws a hand through his hair, lavender locks flopping back down against his forehead. “It’s not that bad.”
A blatant lie. It’s pretty bad. His ‘lavender’ hair is basically grey.
“It’s basically grey,” Jisung frowns.
“Don’t be overdramatic,” Chenle reassures, putting a box of cookies into his grocery basket.
Jisung scrunches his nose, following behind him, “that doesn’t make me feel at ease at all… How can I make it up to you?”
“You really don’t have to.”
“We could get a meal, or something, on me…”
Chenle is about to cut him off, opening his mouth before Jisung cuts in with, “No, seriously, my treat. For all the trouble. You paid a lot for the hair dye, anyway. It’s the least I can do.”
Chenle wiggles his brows. “Is it a date?”
Chenle meant this as a joke. Obviously. Haha.
That doesn’t stop Jisung from blushing right down to his roots, ears tinged pink— almost the same shade as the rose brown colour that is his hair.
“I’m kidding, Jisung. Thank you, I appreciate it. Seriously.”
The fact is that Chenle wasn’t kidding, but this situation is very much akin to the time he had told Jisung his hair was exactly what he wanted when he was flustered. The boy just looks so pitiable when he’s in utter panic mode.
Still, they exchange numbers and then arrange to get dinner down the street from the hair salon, after one of Jisung’s shifts. All of this, of course, happens while they’re slowly picking groceries off the shelves, making small talk, and paying for their stuff at the self-checkouts.
Before he knows it, Jisung is at the automatic sliding doors, almost ready to exit.
Renjun’s words ring loud and clear in his head, which would usually give Chenle a headache (because it’s probably the result of nagging), but this time, he acts on it.
“Actually,” Chenle calls out, just before Jisung’s out the door, “I’d like if it was a date. If you don’t mind, that is.”
Jisung does that thing again; the one where he turns a bright shade of pink, yet nods timidly, before he’s out the door— and inwardly, Chenle cheers.
He’d scored himself a date! With Jisung! And shared tenancy with Renjun for at least the rest of the semester!
It’s only when he’s halfway back to campus that he realizes: fuck. He’d forgotten to buy Renjun’s oyster sauce.
He might get thrown out anyway, it seems.
-
“My god you are painfully single.”
Chenle pouts. “I’m working on it! I literally have a date right now!”
“Yeah,” Renjun tsks, lifting Chenle’s chin so he can put more makeup on his eyes, “and I’m the only reason he’s not going to walk out on you the second he sees you!”
Chenle huffs out a protest, “Sweatpants are totally appropriate date attire.”
“When was the last time you went on a date?”
He blanks.
Renjun tsks again, this time a bit harder— reminiscent of Chenle’s own mother when he failed to wear safety gear when out on a bike. “You need to make yourself look hot , not like a poor college kid that just rolled out of bed.”
“But I am a poor college kid that-”
“Exactly!”
Renjun applies a final bit of blush on the apples of Chenle’s cheeks, and a small swipe of tinted lip balm, before he’s effectively manhandling Chenle to the mirror.
And Chenle would say he’s relatively high-maintenance; doesn’t feel the need to put in that much effort in date attire, but Renjun has done something right.
Adorned with the slightest bit of eyeshadow, and some very impressively clean eyebrow work, Renjun had managed to elevate Chenle from boy-who-hasn’t-slept-in-days to attractive.
“No need to thank me,” Renjun says, and Chenle rolls his eyes in response— although he does exactly that, anyway.
Renjun manages to act like he’s Chenle’s mother and frat boy roomie all at the same time, yelling things like they grow up so fast and use protection! as he pushes Chenle out the front door.
By the time Chenle reaches the restaurant, Jisung is already there, explaining that he’d been let off work earlier since
What a gentleman.
Chenle will not be telling Renjun about that thought. It’ll save him more weeks of teasing.
He’s in a black denim jacket, a simple white t-shirt, and black skinny jeans… and to say he looks good would be an understatement.
Jisung looks incredible .
Chenle will not be telling Renjun about that thought, either.
Naturally, they get a table of two, sitting down in a quiet corner of the restaurant, food ordered and all.
“So,” Jisung says, when the silence has settled between the two of them, “are you, like, on a mission to dye your hair every colour of the rainbow?”
Chenle almost chokes on his ice water. He clears his throat. “Huh?”
“You, uh, come to the salon a lot.”
“Oh,” Chenle says, then giggles, and then laughs. Jisung looks at him quizzically, almost offended (or embarrassed, Chenle is too busy to figure out), at his random outburst of laughter.
He makes a weird gurgling noise at the back of throat to show confusion.
“You remember that first time I came in?” Chenle asks, “when I did mint green?”
Jisung nods like a lost puppy, and Chenle has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent another outburst of laughter.
“I actually asked for chestnut brown that day.”
Jisung’s eyes widen, even more so than Chenle had thought possible, and he gapes so big Chenle can’t help but lean over and place his fingers under his chin, pushing his mouth closed.
That, evidently, does little to soothe Jisung’s internal strife, because his ears then turn bright red, and he flushes right down to his neck.
“Holy shit,” Jisung breathes out, “how did I hear chestnut brown as mint green? ”
Chenle giggles. “I have no idea.”
“Oh my god,” Jisung says, “why didn’t you tell me?” he adds on, panicking, arms gesturing wildly, “do you want a refund? Holy shit,” and now, with his head in his hands, “this is so embarrassing. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Chenle says, still giggling, “you’re cute. Also, the mint green wasn’t half bad. I kinda liked it, actually.”
Jisung, however, doesn’t seem very settled— he’s still fiddling with his fingers under the table, and chewing on his pretty heart-shaped lips. Not that Chenle is staring at his lips. Because he’s not. Ahem.
“Then,” Jisung says, “why’d you keep coming back if I was such a shit hairdresser?”
“As I said before: you’re cute.”
Jisung lifts his gaze, just enough such that his eyelashes flutter and Chenle can see, from this angle, how long they really are. He’s a fairy. Chenle is convinced.
“Me?” he asks, pointing a finger at his chest, “you come back for me? ”
“Yeah,” Chenle admits. He feels a whole weight off his shoulders, and, honestly, he could jump on the table and dance. He doesn’t, though, because Jisung is paying for this meal and he’s kind of broke and would value not embarrassing him enough to decide to walk out of the meal. “I also go for the little candies you guys serve at the counter, but that’s just a bonus.”
“Fox’s”
“What?”
“Fox’s hard candy,” Jisung breathes, “that’s the candy we serve at the counter.”
Chenle nearly chokes on his water. “ That’s all you gathered from what I just told you?”
“No, no,” Jisung pales, waving his hands frantically, “it’s just. I don’t know, thank you? Sorry. I don’t know what to do when hot people call me cute.”
Chenle raises an eyebrow. “When what people call you cute?”
“H-” Jisung starts, and then stills. His eyes widen, and Chenle thinks the boy looks like a chipmunk.
Cute, he thinks, and also (unconsciously) says aloud.
“Stop it!”
“What?” Chenle shrugs, “it’s true. I think you’re cute.” He gestures vaguely to the distance between them, “That’s why I asked you on a date.”
Jisung stays silent, and Chenle notices his ears are tinged pink again.
“You mean people at the hair salon don’t randomly ask you out?” Chenle asks, his tone more surprised than he was prepared for.
“No…?”
Chenle opens his mouth, just about to say something stupid and cheesy, but the waiter politely interrupts them with their main course (no appetizers because they’re broke), and the conversation quickly switches to something else.
Divine intervention, perhaps. Whatever was about to come out of Chenle’s mouth could most definitely go into the hall of fame for worst pick up lines.
Later, Chenle learns that Jisung likes hanging out at the park just around the corner from the restaurant, and that his lip balm tastes like mint.
-
Chenle also learns that the university, despite having thousands upon thousands of students, is still metaphorically tiny and that Renjun’s new boyfriend, Jeno, has been Jisung’s childhood friend since high school.
What results is Chenle sitting down at the canteen with the couple, looking at and going through God knows how many (adorable, but Chenle won’t admit it) high school era photos of Jisung. The whole bunch. Seriously, it’s a little concerning how many photos of Jisung Jeno has sitting around in his Snapchat memories
“It’s because he’s got only child syndrome and treats Jisung like his baby brother,” Renjun whispers to Chenle, while Jeno is in the midst of explaining how he got a blurry photo of Jisung in a Wonder Woman costume with the word “streaks!!!!!” scribbled across it.
“I see that,” Chenle deadpans, nodding in Jeno’s direction. Renjun pulls a sorry face. Says something about he’s not usually like this, it’s just, yknow, he gestures vaguely, Jisung.
“—yeah, and then he had way too many shots that night and threw up in a bush. A rose bush. With thorns! What a lightweight,” Jeno laughs, finally taking a break to pick up his can of diet coke.
“Anyway, how’d you meet the loser?”
Chenle looks up from where he’d been nibbling on his nails. “Oh, me? It’s not the most romantic. He was, uh, he was my hairdresser.”
Jeno coughs. Sputters. Almost spits out his coke. Renjun pats him on the back soothingly.
“You let him near your hair?!”
“Multiple times, actually,” Renjun adds on, still patting his boyfriend’s back.
“Do you hate yourself,” Jeno deadpans, once he’s finally recovered from his coughing fit.
“Yes, apparently. He dyed my hair green when I asked for chestnut blonde and I still went back. It was like I had Stockholm syndrome or something.”
Renjun rolls his eyes. “What actually happened is he went and got his hair done, then came home and gushed about meeting the cutest boy at the salon and booked his next appointment almost immediately like a lovesick puppy. And I had to deal with this for, like, three whole months.”
“It wasn’t that bad!”
Renjun stares at him, eyes drilling into his skull.
“Okay. It was that bad.”
Jeno finishes the last drop of his coke, intrigued. “Well. That’s quite the love story. I don’t know you very well but you sound like a real idiot for falling in love with Park Jisung the hairdresser.”
“Yours truly,” Chenle says, faking a curtsey, “but I must say that your meet cute with Renjun wasn’t any better. I mean, seriously, getting caught staring at ass in the middle of Chemistry 101? I can’t believe you—”
Chenle’s sentence gets cut off by Renjun clearing his throat loudly , standing up and announcing that they have a lecture to get to, all whilst dragging Jeno away. Jeno still waves goodbye at Chenle, but Renjun is awfully strong for a tiny body, and Jeno still gets dragged away like a puppy on a leash.
-
Life as Park Jisung’s boyfriend is not very much different from his own previous life. Outside of the (very much appreciated) extra cuddles and nights spent together watching movies, he’s still terribly sleep deprived and constantly stressed about his GPA.
They’ve also basically moved into each other’s flat (much to Renjun’s annoyance— but if they stay out of the common room there’s not much Renjun can do except acknowledge Jisung’s very tall existence), and sometimes Jisung comes straight home to Chenle’s instead of his own flat. Complete with his own drawer in the closet, of course.
Jisung is doing just that— waking up in Chenle’s flat— today, while Chenle is in the midst of catching up on a few lectures.
“Off to work?” Chenle asks.
“Oh,” Jisung breathes, rubbing his eyes, “I’m not going in today.”
Chenle makes a sound. “Why not?”
“Did I not tell you?” Jisung asks, puzzled, “I quit in favour of going to do head massages at the spa.”
“YES!” Chenle exclaims, “wait, I mean, oh no, what happened?”
Jisung makes a noise of confusion. “Well, I figured after our whole… debacle that hair styling wasn’t for me, and Ten told me that someone had anonymously written in a bunch of times to compliment me on my head massages during the hair washing…” He then fades off and straightens up, like a bulb went off in his head.
“And… now that I think about it… it was you, wasn’t it?”
Chenle smiles sheepishly. “Maybe.”
Jisung pulls a face. “Am I really that bad at hair?”
“Didn’t say you were! Just said your head massages were much better in quality,” Chenle beams, throwing a lazy thumbs up in Jisung’s direction.
Jisung’s face doesn’t budge, however, and it takes Chenle standing up from his chair, walking all the way over to where Jisung is standing in the middle of his bedroom, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips for the pout to go away.
He wouldn’t have it any other way, though, and the way Jisung smiles after is enough to remind him of it.
And now that Jisung’s finally no longer at the salon…
-
View Google Reviews for: Neo Arts Hair Salon and Academy
Zhong Chenle
★★★★★ 5/5, two minutes ago.
So, I came in here thinking I was getting a haircut, but what I really got was a whole different experience. First, I asked for chestnut brown, but then I got mint green, because the rookie hairdresser couldn’t understand my accent and was too embarrassed to ask me to clarify. Luckily, he’s really cute, and crazy good at head massages. Seriously. I think I ascended to a higher state of being during. Have I mentioned his absolutely divine head massages?
Anyway, I kept coming back to this salon to see the cute head massage boy because he’s got the nicest smile and voice. Even when the constant bleaching was making my hair start to fall out. And even when he managed to nick himself with the scissors.
The good news for you all is that I managed to convince him to quit hairdressing (it really isn’t his calling) for head massages!! So please continue to patronize this lovely and very wallet-friendly establishment because I swear the rest of their hairdressers are amazingly talented and the adorable (though somewhat incompetent in the world of hairdressing) bumble of a human that I happened to encounter is definitely an outlier.
Tl;dr: Came wanting chestnut brown hair, left with very dead and damaged rainbow hair and a boyfriend. 5/5.