maayacolabackup

Ayo Jongdae,

I liked all your ninja pictures. Have you been initiated into the secret cult yet?

Things are good at home. Jongin is still dating slash being stalked by Taemin, and Kyungsoo is still learning how to chill out.

Baekhyun says: Have a safe trip! <3 (the heart is from him, as usual, because I’m still mad that you got Sehun to hide the key to your flat and ruined my awesome party plans.)

Peace,
C-Dawg

*

They leave Kai with plenty of food in different rooms of the grounds that he won’t go hungry over three days. They’ve raised him to be an outdoors cat, anyway, and he’s old enough and scrappy enough now that Tao only cries a little as they leave him.

Yixing drives them to the competition in the white van with the dragon on the side. Kris pouts in the passenger seat—well, Jongdae thinks he’s pouting, because his thick eyebrows are sort of… drooping, but you never can be too sure what emotion Kris is feeling by just the look on his face.

But even if Kris is sad, Jongdae is relieved. He sits in the back with Tao on the ride down, Lu Han and Xiumin playfully poking at each other and bickering in the middle row of seats. Xiumin seems more like he’s used to Lu Han’s pestering than that he’s responding to it, but Lu Han seems satisfied enough with the level of interaction.

Tao is quiet and unsmiling, and Jongdae thinks he might be in some strange form of meditation or something, the way his back is so straight and his eyes are so distant, focusing on something so far away. He’s got his mysterious black covered book in his hands, but he doesn’t open it.

Jongdae leaves him to his thoughts, sitting just close enough that the sides of their hands touch. Just so Tao knows he’s there. Even that makes Jongdae’s heartbeat speed up.

But Tao doesn’t lean into him, and that makes the drive feel longer.

*

Haikou used to be a port city. You can tell by the layout of it; the way traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular, flows up into the center city from the coast.

They go exploring while Kris goes to check in to the hotel. “I’ll go with Kris,” Tao says, and Jongdae selfishly wants to protest, but he can see the tension in Tao’s shoulders and in the set of his jaw, and figures maybe Tao doesn’t really feel up to walking around the city.

Jongdae misses him, though, as they walk through Lao Jie, Old Street, perusing the antiquated-style shops that sell everything from chickens to drapes to cookware, and he knows if Tao were here, they’d be playing the naming game that Tao likes so very much.

Xiumin does teach him some words, though, pointing at things and telling him the Mandarin and the exact Korean equivalent. It’s fun, but it’s not as fun, and Jongdae can almost feel where Tao’s hand would have rested on his hip as he tried to wander off in the wrong direction.

They’re looking at kitchen knives when Jongdae gets careless, reaching out to pick up one and slicing his finger ever so slightly on the blade next to it.

“Ow,” Jongdae says, frowning down at the cut before sticking it in his mouth, to Xiumin’s disgust. He pulls it out and the bleeding’s already stopped, but it stings. “It hurts!” He says it in Mandarin, and Yixing looks up at him as Lu Han squeaks. “Did I say it wrong?” Jongdae asks, and Lu Han shakes his head no.

“It’s not that you said it wrong, it’s just that you said it in Shandong dialect,” Lu Han says.

Jongdae doesn’t get it. “What are you talking about? What’s Shandong dialect?” He wonders if that’s got something to do with the way Lu Han adds a heavy ‘R’ sound to the ends of his words, tongue curling them around and making them even less recognizable.

Lu Han shakes his hair out of his face, eyes following a sweets vendor instead of returning Jongdae’s curious gaze. “You really should study more,” Lu Han says, and Yixing giggles.

“Zitao has the Shandong accent,” Yixing says, not speaking too quickly so Jongdae can follow. “Like Lu Han has a Beijing accent. You’ve started talking like Zitao.”

“Oh,” Jongdae says, and he remembers that Tao had talked about Shandong cuisine, and presses his lips together. “Right. Tao’s from Shandong.” Lu Han winks at him, finally losing track of the vendor as he disappears into the crowd.

“No surprises there,” Lu Han says, “considering why you’re even learning Mandarin.”

Jongdae wonders if, as they continue wandering down the old-fashioned, preserved street, it’s sunny enough now to blame the permanent red to his cheeks on the sun.

*

When they get to the hotel, Kris hands everyone keys. “Xiumin and Lu Han, you guys are together. Yixing and Chenchen. Zitao and I are in the last room on the hall.”

“But-“ Jongdae starts to ask, but then he closes his mouth, holding the words in and trapping them, before swallowing them down. It doesn’t matter if Tao doesn’t want to room with him, he guesses.

Maybe Tao had looked into Jongdae’s eyes, back in their room at the temple, and seen all the things that Jongdae’s realized he can’t fight. Maybe it makes Tao uncomfortable, and Tao wants to sleep knowing that the other man in the room isn’t feeling all sorts of things Tao doesn’t.

Jongdae’s not going to say anything, anyway.

Yixing is quiet as he uses the keycard to open their room. Tao and Kris had kindly brought everyone’s bags up to their rooms. Jongdae’s backpack is sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Been a long time since I slept on a mattress,” Jongdae says, and Yixing smiles at him.

“Don’t be sad,” Yixing says.

“I’m not,” Jongdae says. “I’m excited! For the competition.”

“You’re sad,” Yixing replies. “Because of Zitao. But don’t be sad.”

Jongdae runs his fingers through his hair, and flops down onto the mattress, bouncing a bit on the springs. “It’s complicated,” Jongdae says, and Yixing narrows his eyes.

“No it isn’t.”

Later, when Yixing has disappeared to check out the venue and Jongdae’s turned on the television just to enjoy the ambiance noise, there’s a knock on his door. Jongdae is lying on his bed, ‘Mandarin for Beginners’ open to chapter thirteen, and he groans as he stands up, wondering who it could be.

It’s Tao, who has changed into soft black pants and a black t-shirt, and Jongdae can see the outline of the heating patches on his back through the t-shirt’s thin material. “Tao?”

“Busy?” Tao asks, voice light. He’s looking past Jongdae, into Jongdae’s room, and Jongdae opens the door a little wider.

“Studying,” he replies, and Tao hesitantly walks in. Jongdae returns to his bed, his stomach doing cartwheels. He lies back down, notebook open next to his textbook, and picks up his pen.

Tao just stands there, at the foot of Jongdae’s bed, for a moment, before he shuffles closer, squeezing onto the bed. Tao’s almost too big to fit, but Jongdae makes room. The two of them are pressed together from shoulder to ankle.

“Not looking at the place?” He doesn’t know the word for venue, but Tao understands him.

“I looked,” Tao says. “I know it, though.”

“Right,” Jongdae says, and Tao leans his head down. His hair tickles at Jongdae’s chin. “What’s this?”

“Yijianzhongqing,” Jongdae says. Second tone, fourth tone, first tone, second tone. The words rolls off his tongue easier than they would have months ago. ’Love at first sight’

“Oh,” Tao says, and he takes the pen from Jongdae’s hand. The calluses on Tao’s hand are rough, and Jongdae can feel the touch long after Tao’s grabbed Jongdae’s almost full notebook, with it’s wrinkled pages. Tao shifts closer to Jongdae, bare arm brushing against Jongdae’s as he draws example characters for Jongdae to copy. Jongdae strives to pay attention to the stroke order; the way Tao draws the lines for the new character in the construction, that he doesn’t remember from childhood, but all he can actually pay attention to is the way Tao crinkles his nose, or the way Tao’s eyes squint narrowly at the paper as he licks his lips.

“Got it?” Tao asks, and Jongdae wonders if his Mandarin textbook is working against him just as much as his own heart.

“I think so,” Jongdae says. “Yi. Jian. Zhong. Qing.”

“Sounds good,” Tao whispers, and he doesn’t look up, and Jongdae can feel the clench of Tao’s arm muscles and the line of tension that seems to go from his neck all the way down his body.

“Tao,” Jongdae starts, but words fail him. “I’m-“

“Kris is helping me with something,” Tao interrupts. “I’m going.”

“Okay,” Jongdae says. “Of course.” Tao leaves, and Jongdae’s left alone in the room, listening to a television he can only half-understand, feeling lost and miserable.

Jongdae thinks, not for the first time, that he might be a little bit doomed.

*

It’s the most intense three days of competition that Jongdae’s ever seen. Kris mumbles explanations into Jongdae’s ear as they watch, explaining about deductions and stuff like that as Jongdae watches Yixing and Xiumin and Lu Han compete, each doing well if Jongdae’s understanding the announcer correctly. The scores are read in English and Mandarin, and that’s good enough.

But when Tao competes, Kris doesn’t talk. He just watches, silently, and Jongdae can understand. There’s nothing to say. Jongdae notices the careful position of Tao’s fingers and watches as Tao puts his foot down just so. He gasps as Tao flips, sword dangerous sharp in his grip, and sighs in relief when the landing is perfect.

On the third day, when Tao wins, Jongdae isn’t surprised. There can be no other winner, in Jongdae’s mind, because he’d seen no one but Tao.

Tao cries as he accepts the award, and Jongdae wants to laugh, because of course Tao cries, and when the ceremony is over Tao bounds over to them and hugs Lu Han, then Yixing, then Xiumin. Kris gives Tao a glare, which Tao ignores, and Tao hugs Kris, too. Then he comes to a stop in front of Jongdae, face wet and eyes shining, and Jongdae reaches up and wipes his thumb across Tao’s cheek to clear the watery lines. “Congratulations,” he says in Mandarin, like Lu Han had taught him, and Tao’s smile is far brighter than the fluorescent lights in the gymnasium.

Then Tao picks him up in a hug that crushes Jongdae’s arms and turns Jongdae to jelly, and he can feel Tao’s wet face burrowing into his neck, lips brushing Jongdae’s shoulder as he shakes.

“Congratulations,” Jongdae repeats, and Tao laughs. The distance Jongdae’s felt between them the past while is gone, now, as Tao pulls him even closer.

“You said it perfectly,” Tao replies, and as Jongdae inhales the scents of sweat and cedar, he never knew something could feel as simultaneously wonderful and hopeless as this does.

*

There are so many things to discover in Haikou that it seems impossible to pick just one thing to label as must-see. There’s the Lao Jie, the Old Street, and the sea turtles, the museums and the multiple beaches. But for me, all of this paled in comparison to watching one of the most amazing competitions I have ever seen…

*

Tao sleeps with his head in Jongdae’s lap as Yixing drives home, and as Jongdae rests his hand on Tao’s shoulder, he thinks it might be his turn to cry.

Life settles into a different routine, post competition. It’s almost like everyone is taking a long held-back breath, tasting fresh air for the first time in nine months.

Tao spends his first day of freedom shadowing Jongdae as he wanders around the grounds, Kai dwarfed in his large hands, and eager, curious eyes reading Hangeul over Jongdae’s shoulder.

“Can you even read it?” Jongdae asks, and Tao laughs, poking at Jongdae’s cheek, and moves back, pulling out his own black notebook.

Jongdae is on deadline for another article. He writes, taking notes about the competition. His panda notebook only has a few pages left, but there are enough, he thinks, to finish out the year if he writes small. He doesn’t want a different notebook.

Jongdae doesn’t know how he feels about that. He only knows that when he looks at Tao, sitting with his back pressed up against a ginko tree as Kai stretches out along his calf, that this is something he’s going to miss.

*

“Wake up,” Tao says. “Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

“But why,” Jongdae groans, and Tao is smiling down on him as he blinks sleepy eyes.

“It’s still dark,” Jongdae whines, but he gets up anyway.

Tao takes him on the hike up to his clearing; his special training place that sits between the mountains, nudging Jongdae ahead of him to make sure he doesn’t fall on the rain-slick rocks.

They reach the clearing just as light begins to filter into the sky.

“You came to China almost a year ago,” Tao says. “But you haven’t seen the sunrise.”

“Number two,” Jongdae says, and in a moment of bravery, he reaches forward and grabs Tao’s hand. Tao jumps, and for a moment, Jongdae thinks he’ll pull away, but then he doesn’t. Instead, he squeezes Jongdae’s hand, slipping his fingers in between. Jongdae’s hand feels small, like this.

Jongdae’s camera is around his neck, and he uses his right hand to pick it up. He snaps a picture of Tao, just as the sky goes gold. He thinks he gets only half of Tao’s face, because his hand is shaking a little.

“For your essay?” Tao asks, and Jongdae licks his lips.

“No,” he says. “For me.” Tao pauses, and Jongdae can see his earring glinting in his ear.

“Good,” Tao says, and he looks down at Jongdae with unreadable eyes.

The way the light hits him, as the sun rises, makes him almost seem to glow. Jongdae’s breath escapes him as he looks back.

Jongdae is leaving soon, and he’s worried he might be leaving his heart behind.

*

Baekhyun sighs. “Jongdae, I’m worried about you.”

“Why?” Jongdae asks listlessly.

“You don’t seem like you want to come back,” Baekhyun says, puffing out his cheeks and blinking. “Or like you’re sad about leaving.”

“I’ve lived here a year,” Jongdae says. “Of course I’m sad about leaving.” Kai bites his pinky. “I don’t want to leave my bratty-as-hell cat, either.”

“I think…” Baekhyun says, tapping his nose with his index finger, “that there’s something else.”

“What do you mean?” Jongdae gulps.

Baekhyun’s eyes shift nervously. “Well, Kyungsoo came over and asked to borrow one of my self-help books and I-“

“Batted your eyelashes and giggled until he told you the whole story, like the worried mother hen he is.”

Jongdae’ll call Kyungsoo out on the self-help books later.

“Well, yes,” Baekhyun says. “You’re exactly right.”

“I would have told you about it,” Jongdae says. “But…”

“I live with Chanyeol and Jongin,” Baekhyun finishes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s to talk about?” Jongdae asks, and his voice is more bitter than he’d like. “I’m leaving in three weeks, and that’ll be that.”

“Jongdae,” Baekhyun says, and his voice is calm and even. “Grow some balls.”

Jongdae chokes on nothing, and Baekhyun laughs at him.

“You’ve been living with Jongin too long,” Jongdae replies.

“But you must admit I have a point.”

When Baekhyun’s disconnected, and Jongdae is lying on his bedding, fingers tracing the lines of the characters in his textbook, Jongdae thinks that yes, Baekhyun does have a point.

*

A year away from everything you know can change you, if you let it. It can show you the ugliest parts of yourself; the cowardly parts, that you can just avoid when you’re going to work everyday on the same subway train at the same time, and coming home everyday, waving hello to the same vendor at the corner in front of your flat, and eating the same thing for dinner as you had the night before. There’s nothing wrong with that familiarity, but when you strip it away, you’re forced to face yourself, and that’s hard. But I’m glad I came here, to Hunan…

*

Jongdae learned how to talk about liking people or things or places in chapter three of ‘Mandarin for Beginners’, but he knows that’s not quite the same as what he wants to say.

*

Jongdae knows their days are dwindling. Tao knows too, and he has more time to spend with Jongdae now, lying on his stomach and reading as Jongdae writes, and dragging him out on walks in different directions every day.

They can talk to each other now, in broken Mandarin that’s better than Jongdae had ever thought it could be. And the more they talk, the more Jongdae’s heart aches at the idea that they might not talk this much ever again.

They’re out for a walk and they get caught in a surprise shower. Jongdae starts to turn back in the direction they came from, but Tao just laughs and grabs both of his wrists, spinning him around.

Jongdae resigns himself to being soaked, and lets Tao spin them around, feeling the warm rain drench his clothes, and he loves the way Tao looks, right now, laughing and free.

Jongdae will miss him. They slowly start walking back, and Jongdae doesn’t slip on the rocks even once. His footing is more sure. It feels like the sort of metaphor he’ll write in his last article. “You can still get sick in the summer,” Jongdae says, and Tao elbows him.

“We had an adventure,” Tao says. “One last adventure.” Tao looks down. “Number five. Have an adventure.”

Jongdae pauses, for just a moment. “My friend told me, before I left, that this…” Jongdae tries to figure out words. “That this was a big adventure. Coming to China.”

“Right,” Tao says. “And playing with me in the rain is a little adventure.” Tao pushes his hair out of his face, and the rain glistens along his eyelashes, and leaves a soft glitter on his cheekbones when the sunlight hits it just right. “Chen should have lots of adventures.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae says. “Lots of adventures.”

Jongdae’s list will have five red lines through it tonight, and he can take it off the wall and feel accomplished.

They dry off, shedding wet clothes at the door and changing into dry ones, carefully not looking at each other. Tao picks up the pile of clothes and shakes them out, like he does when he’s going to hand them.

His hair sticks to his forehead, and a small smile plays at the edge of his mouth, and he’s so lovely that Jongdae wants to…

Jongdae thinks about the word ‘adventure’, and how it shakes him to his core, no matter what language it’s said in, and he takes a deep, calming breath.

Jongdae doesn’t want to settle for just this. This is great, but Jongdae wants more than hands that small like hazelnut cream from dropped coffee, and two heavy folders from Yunho and Changmin filled with all the dues he has to pay. He wants more than watching the school football team from the sidelines, and he wants more than the regret of never having said anything at all to Tao.

This is Jongdae’s adventure, and he wants to experience it to the fullest.

“I like you,” Jongdae says, in Mandarin. Wo xihuan ni.

Tao looks at him, hands pausing over their wet clothes, and Jongdae swallows. He feels, somehow, like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, and one small push could send him hurtling to the ground. It’s terrifying, standing here and knowing that this could change everything, and that his time in China is almost at an end, and that Tao might never look at him the same.

Tao’s eyes are wide. “Wo xihuan ni,” Jongdae repeats. “Wo ai ni.” Even though Jongdae is shaking, and he’s so afraid, somehow, he feels free. He feels like he could say it a hundred more times, with perfect tones and a steadiness to his voice that comes with all the times he’s already said it to himself to practice.

Tao sets down the pair of trousers he’d been about to hang. He stares at them, on the bed, pressing his mouth into a straight line.

“Are you listening?” Jongdae asks. “I like you. I like you, I like you, I like you-“

Then Tao is in front of him, and Jongdae has to crane his head back and look up because Tao is so close Jongdae can’t see his face. The proximity is making Jongdae’s heart beat faster; so fast it’s like he’s running an Olympic race. His hands are shaking, so he balls them into fists. He doesn’t look away. Jongdae is tired of looking away. Jongdae is tired of thinking it’d be easier or better to not feel this way about Tao. He’s tired of it, and even if Tao doesn’t like him back, doesn’t love him back, at least, not the way Jongdae likes him, Jongdae will still be glad he said it.

Because even if he and Tao spend half their time trying to find some kind of common language to speak, there are some things that are universal. Like the way Tao’s face lights up when Jongdae remembers a character or the way Tao’s hands brush his own, knuckles grazing knuckles, when they stand next to each other in the kitchen, afternoon sunlight streaming in.

There are things, Jongdae thinks, that are greater than words, and greater than something he can put in his limited Mandarin or his fluent Korean. Tao, Jongdae knows, is one of those things, and Jongdae just wants… He wants to remember the way Tao’s voice sounded in his ear as they sat next to each other and drank a cup of tea, Kai curled up on Tao’s lap, or the way Tao had cried when he won, and the way Tao’s arms had felt around his waist when he ran to hug him.

Tao’s eyes are still wide. His lips are slightly parted, and there’s a faint flush to his cheeks, and that hint of cedar is flooding Jongdae’s nose. “Me?” Tao asks, and he sounds… amazed; like it’s something great that Jongdae is so madly in love with him that he’s driving himself insane. “You like me?”

“Yes,” Jongdae says. “You.” He pokes Tao in the chest, and bites down on his lower lip.

Tao’s hand comes up and catches Jongdae’s, wrapping his larger hand around Jongdae’s smaller one. Tao hesitates for a moment, before he links their fingers together, palms flush against each other as Tao holds both of their hands in the air between them.

Tao takes a deep breath. “I-“ He laughs. Jongdae doesn’t think anything is funny, but then Tao is shaking his head, trying to get his hair out of his face, and Jongdae can’t stop himself from reaching up with his other hand and pushing the wet strands off of Tao’s forehead. His fingers are trembling, he notices, as he moves the hair. His fingers are trembling, and so is his wrist, and his whole arm, even.

Tao’s other hand grabs Jongdae’s left hand, too. Now they’re standing here, face to face, Tao’s breath warm on his forehead, and Jongdae isn’t sure of anything except the fact that he likes Tao so much he might burst.

“Jongdae,” he says, in heavily accented Korean. “Na do saranghae.” Tao doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t stall, and the words roll off his tongue like maybe he’s practiced them a million times, too. “I studied it. Korean, I mean. I studied a lot.” ‘Nomu mahni’ sounds strange on Tao’s lips, but charming and wonderful, too, just like Tao.

Jongdae guesses he knows what Tao’s been studying, now, in that black covered book.

Jongdae’s heart stops in his chest, and then it starts again, and Jongdae feels dizzy with it all, and like the only thing keeping him from floating away is the heat of Tao’s hands, folded into his own.

Tao’s eyes are soft, and watery, and Jongdae thinks Tao might cry, because Tao cries a lot, but it’s one of the things Jongdae likes about him; one of the hundreds of things that Jongdae can rattle off, without thinking, about Tao that make him so special and wonderful in Jongdae’s eyes.

Jongdae rises up on his toes, so he’s at eyelevel with Tao. “I’m going to kiss you,” Jongdae says in Korean, and he knows Tao probably won’t understand the words, but it doesn’t matter, because Jongdae and Tao have learned how to communicate with more than just words.

Tao’s lips are soft, and give beneath Jongdae’s as Tao pulls his hands free and moves them to Jongdae’s waist, tugging him closer. Jongdae easily falls against Tao’s chest, letting Tao’s strong arms support his weight as he wraps his own around Tao’s neck. He tilts his head to the side, slotting their mouths together even more closely.

Tao kisses him back with the innocence of someone who’s never been kissed. His mouth is sloppy and warm and eager, and Jongdae hasn’t kissed all that many people either, so it’s good; it’s better than good, and when Jongdae’s tongue inquisitively slides across Tao’s lower lip, Tao’s lips open beneath his so naturally, so simply, that Jongdae wonders if he’ll ever be able to pull away.

Tao’s hands tighten on Jongdae’s sides, like he’s afraid to let Jongdae go. Jongdae doesn’t know why, because Jongdae has no intention of going anywhere. He licks at Tao’s mouth, running his tongue alone the line of Tao’s slightly crooked teeth, and Tao makes a tiny gasp, as their tongues wrap around each other, that makes Jongdae quiver all the way down to his toes.

Jongdae pulls back slightly, sucking Tao’s upper lip in between his, biting lightly, and Tao shudders, and trembles, and Jongdae is on top of the world, staring out at the landscape from the top of a mountain in Wulingyuan, and there isn’t anything, Jongdae thinks, that’s ever made him feel more alive than this. He presses tiny kisses to the corner of Tao’s mouth, and Tao’s cheeks, and Tao hums, one hand sliding around behind Jongdae to drag up and down Jongdae’s spine.

“Saranghae,” Tao whispers again, breath tickling at Jongdae’s forehead. “Wo ai ni.”

But it’s the tenderness, Jongdae thinks, of Tao’s mouth when he hesitantly kisses Jongdae again, that says the most.

*

“Oh dear,” Lu Han says. “I guess better late than never, but you really pushed it, this time.”

Jongdae tightens his hand around Tao’s, and Tao’s eyes are crinkled up the way Jongdae likes.

Yixing snickers. “Chen just wanted to make things difficult,” he says, and Jongdae shakes his head.

“No,” Jongdae says. “I was just afraid to let them be easy.” Jongdae smiles. “I guess I was finally ready for my adventure.”

*

Dear Mom,

I’m coming home! I hope my plants are alive! I have so much to tell you, mom. So many pictures to show you, too. I’ll see you soon.

Your son,
Jongdae

*

Kris calmly eats his ice cream as Jongdae sips at his ice-latte.

The airport is loud, and Jongdae can barely hear himself think. There’s also a group of young girls sitting across from them, taking pictures of Kris on their mobile phones.

Jongdae supposes he does look a little bit like the prince from a movie, or something, if you don’t know him.

“Have a safe flight, okay?” Kris says, not looking at Jongdae.

“I survived the trip to the airport,” Jongdae replies. “I think I can survive anything.”

“Shut up, Chenchen,” Kris says, and he turns, offering Jongdae one of his rare gummy smiles. “We’ll miss you.”

“Naw,” Jongdae says. “You’ll be fine.”

Kris takes another bite of his ice cream. “We’re glad you came.”

“I’m glad I came, too,” Jongdae says, and he means it. “Thanks, duizhang.”

Kris looks up at him, shocked, and all Jongdae can do is grin.

Junmyeon picks him up at the airport.

“You’ve gained weight.”

Jongdae stares at him, and pretends to turn around and walk back towards the gate.

“Sorry, sorry,” Junmyeon says. “Jongin told me to say it, and it sounded good…” He pats Jongdae on the shoulder. “You look good.”

“I am good,” Jongdae replies. “Really, really good.”

“I’m glad,” Junmyeon says. “Really, really glad.”

*

“I was personally very pleased with your work over the past year, Mr. Kim,” Lee Soo Man says. “Your articles were some of the most popular, every month.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jongdae says, squirming in the too-soft chair. “I did my best.”

Lee Soo Man stares at him, over his wire-framed spectacles, and smiles like a shark. “Yes, well, I have no regrets about sending you to China for a year. You’re going to be a valuable asset.”

Jongdae blinks, twice. “What, sir? I mean, I’ve already been working for you for two years, sir.”

“I meant to our full-time writing staff, Mr. Kim.”

“You’re promoting me, sir?” Jongdae squeaks. His hand automatically comes up to his neck to pull at his tie. “To writer?”

“Yes,” Lee Soo Man says. “Isn’t that what you went to college for?”

“Well, yes, sir, but-“

“But?” There’s an edge to his voice that informs Jongdae that he should just shut up and accept his good fortune.

“Nothing, sir. Thank you sir.” Jongdae swallows, and stands. He bows, at a ninety-degree angle, and remembers the way Lu Han had laughed at him, when he’d left the temple, and fluffed his hair as Xiumin had watched amusedly.

“Now go away,” Lee Soo Man says, and as he walks out that heavy oak door, after surviving his third time in the devil’s office, Jongdae feels like skipping.

About two minutes later, his mobile phone rings. Jongdae’s not quite used to having one again, so the vibration startles him.

“Hello?” he says.

“Hey, um, Jongdae?” Chanyeol’s on the other end of the line, voice sounding unsure.

“Obviously yes,” Jongdae says. “What’s up?”

“Did you move?” Chanyeol laughs nervously, and he can hear Jongin snickering in the background. “You still live in the same flat, right?”

Jongdae does. There’d only been a thin layer of dust in his bedroom, and before he’d come back his mom had returned all his plants to their rightful homes in his windowsills. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, I dropped by to leave you some spaghetti that Kyungsoo made, and I used the spare key that you keep under the front mat-“

Jongdae sits down at his desk. There’s no folder from Yunho, and no threatening sticky notes from Changmin. Jongdae could maybe get used to this. Junmyeon looks over at him from his desk across the room, and Jongdae gives him a thumbs up.

“Okay,” Jongdae says. “So what’s the problem.”

“We were attacked by a ninja!” Jongin yells, and it’s loud even though Chanyeol is obviously still holding the phone. “That’s what Chanyeol thinks.”

“Shut up!” Chanyeol says. “I didn’t mean to yell ninja; it just happened-“

Jongdae feels a laugh bubbling up from his stomach, and he barely manages to stifle it as he leans forward to rest his head on the cool, cleared surface of his desk. “Oh,” Jongdae manages, when he’s finally choked back his giggles. “The ninja.”

“I told you there was a ninja!” Chanyeol crows, and Jongdae can’t help it; he bursts into laughter. He looks up and everyone in the room is staring at him. He bows in apology as he moves out into the hallway, where he leans against the wall.

“I forgot to mention,” Jongdae says, “that Tao is going to be living with me.”

“Yeah, that must have slipped your mind,” Chanyeol says sarcastically, and he can hear Jongin demanding that Chanyeol put the phone on speaker. “Although how that possibly-“

“He’s in training for the Olympics with Lu Han’s teacher here in Seoul,” Jongdae says. “And he’s studying Korean.” Jongdae thinks about the way Tao had looked, sprawled sleepily across his bed that morning, sheets white against his lightly tanned chest, hair in messy tufts across Jongdae’s pillow. He thinks about the drowsy kiss he’d stolen before he’d crept quietly from his bedroom and shut the door. He can’t wait to go home tonight.

“I was wondering why you weren’t sobbing like a little girl at leaving your boyfriend behind,” Jongin says, and Jongdae really needs new friends.

“Everything’s really worked out for you, huh?” Chanyeol says, and Jongdae closes his eyes and leans his head back until it hits the cool wall.

“Yeah,” Jongdae says, and he smiles. “Lucky me.”

*

Jongdae’s Mandarin is getting better, and so is Tao’s Korean. Sometimes Jongdae misses the quietness of the mountains, and sometimes he relishes the noisy city sounds in the late night.

But those are all small things; nothing but details, because Jongdae has everything he needs already.

The stretch of Tao’s palm against his stomach in the evenings reminds him of Chinese winters, and Tao’s bright smile in the mornings is like the dawning of spring at the edge of the temple grounds, wildflowers blooming without warning where there had been nothing but brittle grass.

“Wo ai ni,” Jongdae whispers, into the skin of Tao’s shoulder, before work.

“Saranghae,” Tao whispers back, and this, Jongdae thinks, is happiness beyond measure.

Kai curls up at their feet warm and silky. He’s learning how to be a housecat, day by day. He seems to like the excuse to be even lazier.

The words don’t matter; not really.

Jongdae leans forward, and kisses Tao again.

END