Work Text:
There was something to be said about the sound of rain against the pavement. To Chanyeol, it sounded like a drum beat, soft and gentle, like when he opted to play with his fingertips rather than drumsticks, because sometimes it was less about making the beat than just feeling it. Its ambient quality reminds him that music really is everywhere, from the sounds of his wet footsteps to the crack of thunder, all the way to the beating of raindrops against the plastic bins on the roadside. The stormcloud was a maestro, and the sound of rain falling was his symphony.
Usually, Chanyeol wouldn’t mind attending mother nature’s concert, but not so much when it wasn’t forecasted, and he had to get home from work on foot.
There’s a crowd gathered at the metro entrance, those waiting for the rain to cease before braving the cold, wet outside. Normally, Chanyeol would grab an umbrella on his way out in the morning if he knew there’d be rainfall in the evening, key word being knew. Unfortunately, all he had right now was his laptop bag, his wallet, and his black button-up for protection. It was too late into the season to need a jacket, but one would have been pretty useful right about now.
After three minutes of pacing by the exit, Chanyeol decides to brace the rain. He's feeling tired, work had been exhausting, and he could always dry off at home. There was no point in waiting indefinitely for the storm to pass.
As soon as he pushes through the doorway, he’s immediately bombarded by a brutal wind blasting cold droplets into his face. Within seconds the sleeves of his shirt are soaked, the fabric clinging to his skin unpleasantly. His black hair now laid flat on his head, wet tendrils pressing to his forehead. Too late, he thinks to use his laptop case to shield him, not caring that he might damage the computer.
After about thirty more steps he gives up, too miserable to continue. There was no way he would be able to walk another ten minutes back home, not unless the bitter wind let up. The sun was beginning to set, and the grey sky was growing darker quickly, overcome with purple clouds. Chanyeol had a nagging feeling that it would only be getting worse.
A lightbulb flashes over his head when he notices the convenience store at the end of the block.
The bell rings when Chanyeol steps inside. He shakes his head like a dog, thankful to be under shelter, aware of how disgustingly wet he was now that he was out of the rain. Even his socks were damp.
Chanyeol paces the cramped aisles, before he notices a bucket by the cash. It’s almost empty; there’s only one umbrella left, a bright yellow reject.
When Chanyeol reaches down to grab the last umbrella, his shoulders brush another’s, and a soft, smaller hand connects with his as they both reach for the same item.
They freeze, and slowly turn to face each other, with Chanyeol standing back to full height. In order to make eye contact he has to look down.
“Ah,” the stranger says. He has long hair, longer than Chanyeol’s shaggy mop, and he has it tucked behind his ears on both sides. It’s also dripping. “I see we both had the same idea.”
Chanyeol frowns. He’s cold, uncomfortable, and wet, and really wants to buy this umbrella so he doesn’t drown on the way home.
The stranger smiles, and Chanyeol’s frustration dissipates, because he’s treated to soft features on a handsome face. He can’t be too upset at a beautiful man. Sehun would call it being weak, he’d call it being a romantic.
“Oh,” he says with all the intelligence of a thumbtack.
The stranger crosses his arms, brows furrowing as he contemplates their dilemma, and Chanyeol notices the beads of water on his cream sweater that haven’t quite soaked in, and those that glisten on his collarbone.
“Rock paper scissors?”
The stranger looks at him for a second in confusion, before glancing back to the umbrella. When Chanyeol’s words sink in he laughs, pressing the back of his wrist to cover his mouth.
“Alright,” he assents, “I guess that works. Best two out of three?”
Chanyeol nods, “on the count of three, then?”
If it were a sunny day, and he wasn’t currently standing in his own puddle, Chanyeol might have been tempted to let the stranger win. He’s cute, with kind eyes and soft cheeks that look like they’d fit perfectly cupped in Chanyeol’s hands. Ahem. But, today Chanyeol really, really, really, wanted that umbrella for himself.
Rock beats scissors, and then paper beats rock.
“Damn,” the stranger says. He picks up the umbrella and holds it out for Chanyeol to take. “It’s yours; you won it fair and square.”
Chanyeol gives him another court nod, “thanks.”
He pays for the umbrella at the cash, but not before shooting a look over his shoulder. Surprisingly, the stranger has vanished. Maybe, Chanyeol speculates, he went searching for another shop.
Chanyeol is displeased to note that the rain hasn’t calmed down at all. Instead, it was pouring down and hitting the street with a loud pit-a-pat, flooding the lower dips in the sidewalks.
Still under cover of the storefront, he opens his new umbrella. Everything under him is bathed in yellow light. Chanyeol inadvertently squints. It certainly wasn’t a subtle colour. There was no chance he’d ever misplace it.
He starts out in the direction of home, when a splash splash splash behind him causes him to slow in his tracks.
“Hey,” a voice calls. It’s just familiar enough that Chanyeol turns around.
It’s the stranger from the shop. He’s holding his hands over his face to block the heavy droplets, but his sweater is finally drenched, and he blinks rapidly while squinting his eyes.
“Just curious,” the stranger calls, “since you’re heading this way, if maybe we’re going in the same direction?”
Chanyeol doesn’t know why, but he tells the stranger what area he’s walking to. If Sehun were here he’d surely be getting scolded for giving out his private information. He’d probably give the man his banking details if he asked nicely. The stranger smiles in response, so Chanyeol doesn’t feel so bad. It was impossible not to be weak for cute boys when they were so miserably drenched.
“Do you mind if I…?” the stranger points back and forth between them, eyes focussed on the umbrella. Chanyeol looks up, momentarily blinded by the yellow as if it itself were the sun, before understanding dawns on him.
“Oh, sure!”
He holds the umbrella up a little higher, and the stranger quickly rushes underneath. He uses his hands to wipe water from his face, and then exhales with a full body shiver.
Chanyeol starts to feel bad for not offering to share earlier. The umbrella is wide enough to accommodate the both of them if they press shoulder to shoulder, though their heights don’t quite align.
“Thank you,” the stranger says. The smile he wears now is a bit more subdued, but Chanyeol loses himself in it for a moment. Up close, he can see the details in his face, in the corner of his lips, in the slope of his nose, the curve of his cupid’s bow. Chanyeol has to force himself not to brush away the wet locks that cling to his forehead and the sides of his cheek. He wonders how his long hair usually looks when dry. “My name is Junmyeon, by the way.”
“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol repeats dumbly, not able to quell the urge to feel the syllables on his tongue, to see if they taste as good as they sound. “I’m Chanyeol. And, uh…no problem.”
Junmyeon giggles and Chanyeol wonders if it’s possible for him to be so smitten already.
Thunder booms above them, followed by a bright flash of lighting not far away.
Time seems to slow down after that, but Chanyeol dreads the moment they’ll have to part to go their separate ways.
They chat briefly, about their work, how long they’ve both lived in the area, but the sound of rain seems to lull them into silence. Chanyeol knows the street is noisy at this hour, even more so with the rain, but it feels to him like the world ends at the tip of the umbrella, everything else obfuscated by the falling rain. It’s as if they’re in their own world, safe from the downpour and everything else. He holds the umbrella up an inch higher, yellow swarming his vision above him and at his feet, reflected in the puddles as they trudge through them.
The spell breaks when Chanyeol regrettably has to make a left, and Junmyeon’s home continues on straight. The rain has assuaged into an inaudible drizzle, so Chanyeol doesn’t feel as bad when Junmyeon has to leave the comfort of the umbrella’s cover to continue on his path. He does notice his absence though, immediately, when there’s no more warmth at his side, no second set of footsteps to accompany his own.
At home, Chanyeol showers in water hot enough to turn his skin red, until he’s sufficiently rid himself of the chill. He cuddles with Zzar on the couch, dozing off after dinner. It was sleepy weather. He goes to bed early that night, his window cracked open just enough to fall asleep to nature’s lullaby.
—
The next morning still smells like petrichor when Chanyeol steps outside to go to work, but thankfully the skies look clear. He tucks the yellow umbrella under his arm, not trusting that the weather will stay as nice throughout whole day.
His intuition turns out to be correct, but he doesn’t quite expect the weather to shift so suddenly, barely five minutes after leaving his house. The sky is still half-sunny when fat, wet drops start to fall, giving Chanyeol no warning to open his umbrella before his clothes and hair are damp again.
He curses under his breath, fiddling with the runner, when someone stops next to him.
He nearly jumps in surprise. It's Junmyeon, the stranger from yesterday. He’s dressed in a beige trench coat, which looks waterproof, but he’s still holding a black, leather messenger bag over his head.
“Still no umbrella?” Is the first thing Chanyeol says in greeting. Smooth.
Junmyeon looks sheepish for a moment, before he eyes the yellow canvas once Chanyeol gets it open.
“It was sunny when I left,” he whines, and Chanyeol pushes down the way he likes that sound. It was eight-thirty in the morning, be normal. “But, I don’t suppose you mind sharing again?”
All Chanyeol can do is hold out the umbrella, giving Junmyeon the space to settle underneath. Though not completely unscathed from the sudden rain, Chanyeol gets a better idea of how his hair looks while dry. It sits straight, though it curls up along his cheekbones and at his nape, and it looks silky enough that Chanyeol wonders how it would feel to run his fingers through it.
Christ, he only met this man yesterday.
The walk to the metro station is even more tranquil than yesterday’s, maybe due to the sleep that still lingers on his eyelids and the back of his throat, causing him to yawn more than once along the way. The puddles on the ground haven’t quite dried, and the current rainfall only fills them back up. Chanyeol had thankfully pulled on boots before he left, so he could savor sinking his feet into the pools of water without fear of getting his clothing wet, reminding him how he used to play in the rain with his sister in elementary school.
They arrive at the station, and Chanyeol closes the umbrella, shaking it dry before tucking it back under his arm. It wasn’t the classist umbrella to take to the office. He had one at home with a wooden handle that wasn’t nearly as bright, but since Chanyeol had paid for this one he figured he should at least get his money’s worth.
“Do you get off work at the same time as yesterday?” Junmyeon asks, as he fishes in his bag for his metrocard.
Chanyeol nods.
Junmyeon’s pleased expression has him gripping the umbrella hard enough it almost slips out from his grasp like a live, wriggling fish.
“Will you wait for me?” he asks. Chanyeol has learned quickly that Junmyeon isn’t shy, but he does wear his emotions plainly. Chanyeol thinks he looks hopeful. “In case it’s still pouring?”
Chanyeol nods so exaggeratedly he risks giving himself whiplash. “Of course!”
At work, he floats through the day in a haze. He even misses the paper airplane Sehun launches into his cubicle. His friend is instantly suspicious, but Chanyeol assures him it’s just due to the weather.
—
His last client takes a little longer than expected, so by the time Chanyeol debarks from the metrocar it’s ten-to-six, a whole twenty minutes later than he got off yesterday.
He climbs the steps with heavy limbs. Junmyeon probably wouldn’t have waited longer than ten minutes for him. It rained on and off the whole day, but the last hour has been nothing but a gentle mist. He could get home without Chanyeol coming to his rescue.
There’s no one waiting at the exit, so Chanyeol sighs and pushes through the revolving door, ready to head straight home.
Fingers fly in front his eyes, and a loud shout of “boo!” has him yelping in an octave his deep voice normally can’t reach.
When he recovers, he notices Junmyeon hunched forward in laughter. He’d been hiding outside the exit.
“Did you…did you wait outside just to scare me?” Chanyeol pants. It will probably take a few more minutes for his heart rate to steady.
Junmyeon can’t answer for a few moments, still possessed by laughter. He doesn’t hide his face with his hand this time, and Chanyeol studies how his amusement takes hold of his entire expression, eyes crinkling into crescents.
“I had to!” He wheezes, still in a fit of giggles, “you looked so serious, and then boom! I got you.”
Chanyeol shakes his head, pretending that he isn’t fond of Junmyeon’s melodious laughter or his immature sense of humour.
“Forgive me?” Junmyeon finally asks, when Chanyeol doesn’t give up his pout.
Chanyeol strokes his chin and pretends to consider it, “I guess, since you did wait for me.”
Junmyeon’s resulting smile is suspiciously bright for the time of day.
They walk home under the umbrella, side by side, falling into comfortable chit-chat. Junmyeon talks about work deadlines and art exhibits and pottery class. Chanyeol discusses pressure from his boss, vintage guitars, and superhero movies.
For once, instead of comfortable silence, their conversation flows steady like a stream. So much so that Chanyeol misses his turn and walks an extra block with Junmyeon.
“Here,” Chanyeol says, holding out the umbrella, prompting Junmyeon to grip the shaft.
The other simply stares at him for a moment, before raising a brow.
“Chanyeol, it's barely raining. I can get home without your umbrella.”
“I know,” Chanyeol replies, “but it might rain later this week. I have another one at home, so I think you should have this one.”
Junmyeon seems to consider his proposition, but eventually he does take it. The way he holds the umbrella is much lower than when Chanyeol holds it for the both of them. Like a halo it washes Junmyeon’s soft face in a golden glow.
Chanyeol waves him goodbye, before turning and heading back to his place.
—
The next day is still wet. At least the grass looks marvelously green, Chanyeol notes as he heads out for his morning commute.
The umbrella he takes from home is higher quality than the one from the convenience store, but the fabric is a dark grey, almost black. When Chanyeol holds it open over his head it feels less like pulling out the sun and more like summoning his own personal dark cloud. It makes him even colder somehow. He shivers, wishing he took a sweater or something with him.
He does see a familiar yellow shape bobbing a couple blocks ahead of him.
It makes him smile, the kind of smile that doesn’t leave his face even when he gets to the office and Sehun starts poking his cheek because he looks weird and he’s concerned. Sehun even calls in Kyungsoo for backup, who merely shrugs. Not his department; Sehun was supposed to be the one between them who had the PhD in Chanyeolography.
A stray beam of sunlight pours through the office windows. Chanyeol wonders if the bout of rain was finally over. Plants and flowers loved water, but they also needed plenty of sun if they wanted to reach full bloom.
The sun feels nice on the back of his neck when he walks to the metro station, bidding his coworkers a good evening as they hop onto the opposite car.
Chanyeol isn’t exactly surprised when he exits the metrocar, and finds the world outside once again plunged into a dark gloom. He sighs, reaching for his umbrella…
Except, he left it in the office.
He slaps his face in exasperation, dragging his cheek down his face with a groan. Maybe the shop at the corner will have restocked their selection. Or maybe the dark clouds are just a threat, and it won’t rain until after he gets home.
There’s a loud, thunderous boom, and then water hits the pavement outside in a wave with a hiss. He sighs. After three straight days, it almost seems intentional.
He considers waiting this storm out. He might be over six feet, but the rain looked heavy enough to completely wash him away if he wasn’t careful. Even some pedestrians with umbrellas look like they’re struggling against the sudden, disorienting gusts of wind.
Something hard taps him on the shoulder. Chanyeol flinches, turning around to see Junmyeon with the yellow umbrella. He snickers at Chanyeol’s reaction.
“Looks like you’re the one without an umbrella today. Care to join me?”
Junmyeon waves the unopened umbrella, nearly jabbing a passerby in the eye.
“If I have no other choice,” Chanyeol sighs, in an exaggerated tone, “lead the way, neighbour.”
Junmyeon holds the door for him, and then fiddles with the runner. It’s a cheap umbrella, made of cheap plastic and a questionable metal spring. It seems like the kind of thing that will either last a lifetime, or fall to pieces after a dozen uses.
Chanyeol’s bets are on the first, after Junmyeon gets it open. Immediately, the strong winds have him stumbling as the umbrella pulls him side to side, before flipping inside out.
Chanyeol shakes his head, and takes the umbrella from him, doing his best to hold it against the winds so that it stays the right way in. Junmyeon casts him a thankful, apologetic look.
Besides, if Junmyeon holds the umbrella then Chanyeol will have to crouch underneath. It makes more sense for him to hold it up anyways.
“You know, we should plan this,” Junmyeon starts, just as they’re passing the convenience store where they first met. Water is running off the roof like a waterfall, flooding the ground by the entrance.
“Plan what?” Chanyeol asks, snapping his head from the cascade back to Junmyeon. There’s a chill in the air from the storm, and even though Junmyeon is wearing his coat again his cheeks are still tinged a cool shade of pink. Chanyeol wishes he had a scarf or a hat or something to lend him. Today he’s the one benefiting from Junmyeon’s warmth, under the umbrella he gave him.
“Commuting with the umbrellas. I was thinking, you know, when people share a car on the way to work they call it carpooling? Well, what if we did umbrella pooling? Only one of us would have to remember to take it with us in the morning,” Junmyeon explains, like he's just had a stroke of genius. The last line feels targeted.
“Hey, I still took one with me today. I just forgot it at the office,” Chanyeol rebuts, “also, if we’re supposedly sharing how come I’m always the one holding it up?”
Junmyeon rolls his eyes, “I’d be happy to hold it, but then you’d be uncomfortable, right?”
Chanyeol huffs, “it still doesn’t seem fair.”
Honestly, he doesn’t mind, but bantering with Junmyeon feels natural, and has him constantly fighting back the curl of his lips, swallowing the smile threatening to burst out.
“Fine,” Junmyeon concedes, “is this better?”
He reaches for the shaft with his own hand, holding the spot just below Chanyeol’s grip, close enough so that the sides of his knuckles graze the sides of Chanyeol’s hand. There must be excess electrical charge in the air from the lightning, because Chanyeol feels a shock zip through his system when their hands touch.
He doesn’t even voice the fact that Junmyeon’s proposition doesn’t make much sense, because they weren’t saving on money on gas nor cutting the environmental impact. However, when their skin connects all desire to reason or to argue leaks out from Chanyeol’s ears, joining the water at their feet and disappearing down the storm drains.
Junmyeon walks him to the door of his building, this way to keep him dry. He also requests Chanyeol’s number, so that they can arrange who will meet who with the umbrella the next time it rains. They agree that if it's raining tomorrow morning Junmyeon will bring the yellow one, but in the afternoon Chanyeol will use the one he left at the office.
It’s complicated, and far from practical. However, it builds a routine.
—
Chanyeol’s sister calls him a few weeks later, to rant about the weather. According to Yoora, they were having the wettest season on record.
That didn’t surprise Chanyeol in the slightest. Most days out of the week, for the past little while, he’d been commuting underneath an umbrella. Sometimes on the weekend they’d get a dry day, but like clockwork every time Chanyeol had to leave his house to go to the office, the clouds were dark and very pissed off.
Fortunately, that meant he got to see Junmyeon almost everyday. Granted, they lived closeby, and could hang out together if they really wanted to, but they’d only ever spent fifteen minutes together at a time, so Chanyeol wasn’t really sure if Junmyeon wanted to get to know him any better.
He decides, after another week of meeting each other under the umbrella, to be more forward.
It was Friday, and they were walking under the yellow umbrella this evening. The rain was an on and off drizzle that was just annoying enough to make the walk more comfortable with some protection.
It was getting late into spring, and the evenings were no longer chilly, even when the weather wasn’t fantastic. Junmyeon had stopped bringing his beige coat with him, preferring a loose overshirt over his work attire. The sleeves were long and covered his fingers in a way that made Chanyeol’s toes curl up, because he was so freaking adorable.
“Hey, Junmyeon?” Chanyeol asks. He does his best to keep his tone even, to not let any nerves seep in. “Do you have any plans tonight?”
Junmyeon hums, thinking to himself, and Chanyeol considers running away, sprinting down the street and out of sight. His stomach twists; asking out a cute boy was an instant recipe for weak knees.
“I don’t think so?” Junmyeon responds, voice bright. “What about you?”
What about me???? Chanyeol has to not-so-subtly gulp for air.
“I just…” I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, “thought you might want to catch a drink together, you know, since it's the weekend…”
Junmyeon perks up at that and if Chanyeol had a tail it would be wagging wildly because that doesn’t look like rejection!
“Oh, I’d love to!”
He recovers from the shock of Junmyeon not outright refusing his suggestion by offering to head to one of the bars along the main boulevard, closeby to their homes.
To be fair, just because Junmyeon agreed to hang out outside of their regularly scheduled post-work commute doesn’t mean he also thinks Chanyeol is a cute boy. He could just want to be friends.
Chanyeol would be okay just being Junmyeon’s friend, because he was funny, nice to talk to, and so, so easy for Chanyeol to tease, yet didn’t seem to mind. But, he was also cute in a way that made Chanyeol want to reach up and separate the rainclouds with his bare hands to gift him fresh sunlight. Enamoured was putting it lightly.
The bar is crowded, it still being happy hour, so the two of them get crammed into a wobbly table in the corner, pushed up against the window. There’s a chill from the glass, and Chanyeol can’t really maneuver his long legs away from it, but it's hard to really mind when his calves tangle with Junmyeon’s, comforted by the other’s warmth.
The loud buzz of conversation from the other tables reminds Chanyeol of rain, and it fades into the background. All he can focus on is Junmyeon, his quiet voice, his small hands folded on the table, his hair falling from behind his ears into his eyes. The warm lighting makes his cheeks’ glow. Without having to focus on holding up the umbrella and walking, Chanyeol finds the other's presence overwhelming.
He loses himself in Junmyeon, so much so that a kick to his leg alerts him to the fact that Junmyeon’s been speaking to him.
He apologizes, sitting up straighter. The back of the booth doesn’t really accommodate his height, but he tries to at least correct his posture. He doesn’t want Junmyeon to mistake his entrancement for boredom.
“I was asking if you checked the weather for tomorrow.”
Ah, so they were still only discussing the weather. The endless amounts of rainfall certainly made for easy conversation, but Chanyeol had been hoping there’d be more for them to discuss, especially now that they were properly hanging out, one on one. He’d learnt quite a bit about Junmyeon over the last few weeks, like how he was often running late for work in the mornings yet would stay up past midnight finishing assignments. He’d been getting small doses, but Chanyeol had grown impatient. He wanted the full Junmyeon special.
“No, but let me guess: more rain?”
Junmyeon shakes his head, “nope! They’re calling for sun and a record high!”
Chanyeol nods thoughtfully, “I’ll take Zzar on a walk, then. Too bad it's only nice on the days I’m not required to leave the house. Maybe it’ll change next week.”
Junmyeon’s smile is small and his eyes settle somewhere on the corner of the table, “we’ll see.”
Chanyeol orders a beer, preferring something light, while Junmyeon orders a glass of wine. Junmyeon, he learns, knows quite a bit about wine. Chanyeol, who hasn’t had red wine since the last time attended mass with his parents, knows nothing about it, and his ignorance prompts Junmyeon into a long rant about how a good bottle could change his opinion, and has Chanyeol ever visited a vineyard in Italy?
Chanyeol can’t control his grin, as Junmyeon goes on about sangiovese and barbera grapes. The more he drinks, the redder his cheeks get, and he stutters over his words, giggling into his wine glass. Chanyeol knows he’s probably flushed too, but Junmyeon’s blush spreads over his whole face, down his neck, and Chanyeol wishes he had a sophisticated enough vocabulary to describe how beautiful he is. Junmyeon knows beauty in art galleries and classical poetry; Chanyeol knows it in song, as a collection of chords. Words, for Chanyeol, came to him in abundance, but not when he had to describe something special, not when it came to Junmyeon. The average word was not enough. Junmyeon deserved better than Chanyeol’s usual blabbering; he deserved proper appreciation.
No dinner and two drinks each have them both sufficiently buzzed by the time the happy hour specials are over. Chanyeol can feel it in the sluggishness of his limbs, and he can hear it in the way Junmyeon’s voice gets a few decibels louder, uninhibited, and is laced with that toothsome whine that Chanyeol can’t pretend doesn’t affect him.
Chanyeol can’t even pretend to be surprised when it’s still raining outside. He doesn’t let the dark skies ruin his mood.
“Can I walk you home?” Chanyeol asks. Technically, Junmyeon should be walking him, since today they had the yellow umbrella, but Chanyeol doesn’t care.
Junmyeon doesn’t seem to mind either, that they’d be breaking the routine he’d strictly enforced, “sure.”
Junmyeon’s smaller hand holds the shaft just under Chanyeol’s, close enough for his warmth to bleed into him. Chanyeol wonders if his hand is cold. He debates whether he should place his larger one on top of his smaller one, or even better, use his free hand to hold Junmyeon’s.
Before he can act on it, they find themselves outside Junmyeon’s building. Chanyeol climbs with him up the entrance steps, feeling the warmth in his chest slipping as they get closer to the door, like he’s watching the sun be slowly swallowed by passing clouds.
He’s tired of bad weather. He’s tired of being cast in shadow.
He won’t let the warmth slip away, not yet.
“Hey, Junmyeon?” He sounds breathless, but he’s tipsy enough to avoid feeling embarrassed.
“Yeah?”
Junmyeon’s eyes are wide and firm, as Chanyeol meets their gaze. He feels for a moment like he’s miscalculated, because instead of sunshine, Chanyeol feels cool water rush in his lungs, dragging him under the whirlpool.
That’s right, Junmyeon is able to captivate him and leave him gasping, stuttering for breath. Chanyeol can’t even fight against it, submerged completely in Junmyeon’s gaze, drifting towards his lips like they’re glistening treasure waiting on the seafloor, the prize awaiting any sailor brave enough to challenge their depths.
He leans forward and presses his mouth against Junmyeon’s. The kiss is chaste, the lightest peck. Enough that Chanyeol hopes he won’t need words anymore. The moment passes so slowly, like Chanyeol’s moving underwater.
Everything speeds back up when Chanyeol pulls away, savouring in his mind how soft those lips felt, how they seemed to give in to his own instead of pushing back.
There’s a moment of hesitation, where he hopes he hasn’t gone too far, hasn’t made the atmosphere uncomfortable.
What he’s not expecting is for a hand to reach the back of his neck and yank him back down with a yelp.
“Finally,” Junmyeon groans, “do you know how annoying it was to make it rain every day?”
What? Was Junmyeon implying that all the rain was because of him—
All rational thoughts cease, because Junmyeon presses his lips back against Chanyeol’s, pulling Chanyeol into him. Chanyeol chases his mouth, not able to process much more than the way Junmyeon is pulling them backwards until Chanyeol is crowding Junmyeon against the door.
One hand moves to steady itself on Junmyeon’s waist, while the other can’t resist moving up to finally card through those soft, black locks. His hand settles on his neck, before the thumb travels under his jaw and Chanyeol finally gets to test how Junmyeon’s face fits against his hand. The action is so small he almost misses it, but he thinks he feels Junmyeon shudder.
It spurs Chanyeol to deepen the kiss, happy to be the match that ignites the space between them, lighting up their shared desire.
Burning up, Chanyeol pulls back to catch his breath. He wants to keep kissing Junmyeon so badly it makes him dizzy.
Junmyeon is also panting, slowly collecting himself. He straightens his collar and tucks his hair back behind his ear, clearing his throat.
He’s not into it, Chanyeol worries, and he watches the way Junmyeon chews his bottom lip–his swollen, well-kissed lip. Chanyeol draws back, readying himself for rejection.
“See you Monday?” Junmyeon says in a quiet voice. Before Chanyeol can spiral, contemplating what that means, he adds: “I mean after work. I’ll cook something, or we could go out again? I heard the forecast is good?”
Junmyeon phrases it all like a question, like he’s not sure if Chanyeol’s going to want to kiss him another night. God, he was so adorable. Chanyeol isn’t sure how he’ll make it through the entire weekend without him.
“What’s ‘good’ to you?” Chanyeol teases. Now that Junmyeon has shown him an ounce of fluster, Chanyeol wants to abuse it. He wants to find a way to tease him until his neck flushes darker than the effects of wine. He wants to tease him until he’s whining and—
“Good enough that you’ll hold my hand for real instead of by proxy through the stupid umbrella,” he grumbles, and Chanyeol chuckles at his impatience. The umbrella in question is at their feet, neglected. He bends down to pick it up, handing it over to Junmyeon. He hopes the next time he sees it, it’ll be inside one of their apartments, and not because of more rain.
“Okay,” he yields, still grinning, “I will definitely see you Monday, after work.”
Because he can’t help it, he presses another kiss to Junmyeon’s soft skin, right under his jaw.
“It’s a date.”
If Junmyeon’s face is crimson when Chanyeol turns to head home he keeps it to himself. He thinks the way Junmyeon makes his heart beat faster, on the other hand, is unmistakable.
The rain clouds, like his doubts, finally disperse. Chanyeol is no weatherman, but he anticipates seeing plenty of clear skies from now on.