Critical Capture
Hail to the Chief
Suho/Chen, 2906
Winning is impossible when the opponent is Kim Jongdae.
A/N: Originally written here.
Joonmyun steps on campus and stops in the middle of the surging crowd to take a deep breath, ignoring the shoves and shouts of the students trying to get past him because this is it. This is his year.
As a dutiful son and Ivy League hopeful, Joonmyun has been doing nothing but immersing himself in the diverse clubs the school has to offer-well that and keeping his straight-A record-and has done his best to become a community leader. As an officer of the art club last year, he had created a mural for the gloomy side of the building that had yet to be defaced, and for the environmental committee, he had designed a botanical garden in the back of the school with the help of a few architecture students and volunteers who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty for a good cause. And those were only a few accomplishments.
But his true goal, and the most coveted position of all time is just within his grasp: Senior Class President.
In the past, motivation had been at a record low, and only one person ended up running for the title. Joonmyun hopes it’ll be the same, he’s been spending three years talking about his hopes and dreams so really, everyone should know that he’ll be in the race. But that doesn’t mean that he’s not prepared.
He has been spending all summer thinking up catchy slogans and planning his entire campaign. He’s ready. He was born ready.
So after the last announcements are made at the end of the day, Joonmyun troops down to the front office and hands in the slip of paper he’d received before the school year, the paper that would ensure his running and subsequent winning of the student body election. The nice woman behind the desk takes it with a smile and settles it beside her.
“You know, it’s funny,” she starts with a queer kind of smile, “this is the first year we’ve had more than one candidate.”
Joonmyun stops breathing. Before he can control himself, he hoists himself over the desk, ignores the secretary’s squawk, and peeks at the papers on the desk until he spots a name. When he sees it, his jaw drops.
Kim Jongdae.
--
There is no way he is going to win this alone, not when Kim Jongdae is his opponent. While not the sharpest tack, the kid is a born and bred extrovert and has befriended everyone in a five mile radius. So really, Joonmyun is forced to call in backup.
He whines to gain attention from the slumbering giant across from him in the library. The bleached blond slowly raises his head and regards Joonmyun through bleary eyes. “Ugh. What time is it?”
“It is wonderful to see you too, Kris. It is currently halfway through third period, so I took the liberty of telling your teacher that you were sick and I was monitoring you in the nurse’s office.” He taps the heel of his foot against the chair leg, wondering when Kris will cut to the chase.
“You know my schedule? And what, do you just aide all day or something?”
“I make it my business to know the schedule of everyone that matters. And yes.”
Kris frowns, blinks, and then drops his head back onto the table. “What’d you want?”
Joonmyun beams, able to decipher the question although it is mumbled into a shirt sleeve. “So, I don’t know if you’re aware, but the student body elections are soon.”
“You’re running.” Kris shifts to meet Joonmyun’s eyes. “Of course.”
“Of course,” Joonmyun agrees with a half-grin. “It’s just that Kim Jongdae has entered the race too, so-” He is unable to finish because Kris shoots out of his chair, cursing loudly when his knee bangs the bottom of the table.
“No kidding!” He says finally. “Then you might not win. Wow, this is going to be a tough one. Good luck, though.”
“Wait. That’s why I came.”
Kris raises a thick eyebrow, looking only slightly intimidating. But Joonmyun knows about his pony sticker-adorned books so he remains unfazed. For the most part.
“I was wondering if you could help me. You know, with the campaign and all that. I have no idea who to ask and what to do. I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”
“I don’t think anyone was.” Kris muses. “But hey, no problem. I think I know some people.” He returns Joonmyun’s grin and then yawns. “Right. So could you go and monitor me from somewhere else, now?”
Joonmyun speeds away from the table, closing the door softly behind him.
--
When he comes to school the next day, Kris is waiting next to the front gates. He stops in place and Kris groans, stomping over and throwing an arm over his shoulder so that he can drag him away from the morning crowd.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he squeaks.
“Apology not accepted,” Kris grunts, “but anyway, here’s a couple guys I rounded up. Meet Minseok. Oh, and Luhan. But he’s not helpful don’t pay any attention to him.”
The slightly shorter man huffs. “I wouldn’t have come. But Minseok insisted so-”
“Hi!” The shortest chirps, sticking out a hand that Joonmyun wearily shakes. “I’m Joonmyun and I help tutor literature, and Kris said you might need help writing a speech.”
Joonmyun starts. He looks at Kris, who smirks, and then back at Minseok. “That would be, wow, so fantastic! You’re really willing to do that?”
Minseok scoffs. “It’s no problem for me. Plus, aren’t the elections in a couple of weeks? I’d be happy to help.”
Joonmyun frowns at the mention of time. Right.
“It’s a problem for me,” Luhan mutters, crossing his arms.
There’s three dull tones in the background and Joonmyun snaps to attention. “I’ve got to get to class,” he worries, tearing himself away from Kris. He shakes Minseok’s hand one more time, saying, “thanks again,” and then he’s off.
--
Kris finds him in the halls every single day that week and Joonmyun vaguely wonders if his classmate attends any of his courses before he’s being thrusted in the direction of someone he’s never even seen before. He takes this as a sign that he needs to branch out, which he will of course do. After he wins elections.
Today he’s being thrown at a boy his height who looks half amused with the situation. Joonmyun shoots Kris a glare before holding out his hand. “Joonmyun. I guess Kris told you about the situation?”
The boy nods, adjusting the headphones around his neck. “I am Yixing. I’m in the Players Club. Theatre. Kris talked to me because he was worried about your stage presence or,” his eyes glint and Joonmyun gulps, “any stage fright.”
Joonmyun gives a dry laugh that echoes in the sound room, a tiny little thing that overlooks the auditorium. Right now it’s a mess of wires and tapes but that’s just because they’ve started gearing up for the fall musical. Mentally, he adds this Yixing to the list of people Kris has recruited, which includes Minseok, his irritable shadow Luhan, and a happy-go-lucky freshman named Tao that Kris had insisted he needs for rallying purposes. Tao had bounced happily as Joonmyun keyed in his number to the younger’s contact list and then the six foot tall ball of happiness had skipped away. Since then, Joonmyun wakes up every day to a good morning! (≧∇≦)/ on his phone and he supposes that it’s not all that bad.
“The auditorium is free during fourth period, and I can hook everything up so that it’ll seem more real. How does that sound?” Yixing smiles, then checks his watch. “Um, Kris, we have photo now.”
The taller man blinks. “Since when has that been a thing?”
--
Joonmyun has never exactly talked to Jongdae. He’s heard him talk, sure-who hasn’t?-but he’s never actually had a real heart to heart with the guy.
It’s seven days until D Day when he passes the life ruiner in the main corridor. To Joonmyun’s surprise, it’s Jongdae who stops him.
“Hey,” Jongdae greets, smile charming and grip loose enough to break free, if Joonmyun wanted to. “So elections are in a week, and I know you’re doing your best so, good luck!”
Joonmyun opens his mouth to thank the guy because, wow, he was so wrong and Jongdae really isn’t that bad, but then a pair of girls walk past them and one whispers to the other, “yeah, he’s going to need it,” and Joonmyun rips his hand free of the hold. Now that he thinks about it, Jondae’s always been a sarcastic kind of guy, and hold up. He’s moking him. Joonmyun scowls.
“You too,” he snaps, turning on his heel and walking away, not able to see the confused and hurt glance Jongdae sends him as he throws open the door to Advanced Trig and disappears.
--
“So, I’ve gotta jet but here you are.” Kris gestures to the room behind him. It’s past six in the afternoon and every other sane human being has already fled the building.
Joonmyun frowns. “You’re not going in with me?”
Kris laughs. “You’re not going to make a very good fearless leader.” And then he pulls open the door and pushes Joonmyun inside.
Three heads pop up upon his arrival. It’s an art studio, in the wide open art wing, so the walls are littered with all different kinds of work, macaroni and acrylic alike, and the desks are strewn about the room, covered in dried paint, clay, hopes and dreams.
“Hi,” Joonmyun greets, offering a small smile and a wave. Two of the three wave back, a very tall boy so enthusiastically that he falls off the desk he’s perched on and face plants onto the floor. A dark haired boy looks on, lip curled.
“So, Kris told us something about the elections…?” One of the two seated says, watching as his awkwardly tall friend rights himself. “Sorry, we weren’t really listening. Too busy looking at his pants.”
“They were abhorrent,” the gloomy one states, sketching something onto the pad beneath him.
“Oh, well, I’m running for Class President next week, and I was wondering if you would mind helping me make posters? I really can’t create anything artistic to save my life,” Joonmyun finishes with a self-deprecating laugh.
The tall one looks alarmed. “Um. You know we’re all friends with Jongdae, right?” Well. That explains it. The most talkative out of the three goes on, “we have been since middle school. Helping out the opposition would be-”
“A great idea,” the boy has stopped sketching, looking interested. “We’ll help you. We can have posters done by the end of the week. Just send someone to pick them up and hang them around the school.”
“Kyungsoo,” the tallest says in an outraged, but still ridiculously low, tone. “What are you doing?”
“He didn’t ask for any help and that’s his own problem. If someone else needs it, then it’s his loss,” Kyungsoo snaps. “Baekhyun, stop and get me some of that nice poster paper on your way home.”
The dark-haired boy groans. “Chanyeol, go with me?”
The tallest nods eagerly, leaning on a row of desks. He notices that Joonmyun hasn’t left yet. “No worries,” he says with a grin, “with a sign by Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, there’s no way you can’t win.”
--
He has three days. Three days to nail the speech he and Minseok spent hours writing and editing (while Luhan sat in a corner and moped.)
“Are you even trying?” Yixing questions doubtfully. “Where is the emotion? The life? Your speech is a dead man who has come back for his dentures, Joonmyun.”
Yixing is a strange person who uses strange analogies and Joonmyun has learned to deal with them. He clears his throat and prepares to start again.
The double doors in the back of the auditorium slam open and Kris marches in, dragging two sullen boys whilst Tao skips along behind him.
“What are you doing?” Joonmyun snaps. “I know for a fact that Tao has a class right now.”
“Carry your voice,” Yixing reminds him gently.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”Joonmyun tries again. Yixing claps.
“This is Sehun and Jongin and they will be your best friends for the next couple of grueling days. Isn’t that right?” Both boys groan in response.
“They tried to steal Kris’ bike so he grabbed them and brought them straight here,” Tao chirps helpfully.
“It wasn’t even that good of a bike. We could’ve maybe gotten five bucks for parts, if Jongin could even get it apart. That thing was rusted solid.”
“Piece of crap,” Jongin agrees.
“Joonmyun, I think you should make them clean the school. Top to bottom. Just a suggestion.” Kris shrugs nonchalantly, grip unrelenting.
“I think Baekhyun said that Kyungsoo was done with the posters. They could put those up?” Joonmyun supplies and Kris nods, letting go and instructing Tao to walk them down. He collapses into a cushioned chair. The upholstery is starting to wear away, revealing ugly yellow foam, but the school doesn’t have the time or luxury to replace them.
“So, how are you doing?”
“Great,” Joonmyun lies. But then he remembers all the work that he, Kris, and everyone else has put into this campaign. His gaze hardens. “We’re going to knock the socks off of Kim Jongdae.”
--
“The position of Class President is possibly the most important job in the entire school.” Joonmyun nods in agreement. He’s been nodding almost nonstop throughout the principal’s speech. “That is why I ask you to vote carefully and thoughtfully. Not just for your friends! Alright, have at it. First up, we have Kim Joonmyun.”
Joonmyun shakily rises to his feet, aware of the tired clapping surrounding him and the loud whoops coming from the rear. On stage, he can see the ten boys gathered in the back, large smiles gracing each of their faces-even Minseok and Sehun-and Joonmyun smiles right back before unfolding his piece of paper and taking a deep breath.
The speech is second nature by now. Minseok and Yixing have drilled it into his mind so well that his attention wanders as he talks about his capabilities and goals. He remembers the hoard of papers littering every single hallway with his face dead center, drawn in fine pointed Sharpie. He thinks of the texts in the morning that had started with Tao, and grown to include Jongin’s complaints, Chanyeol’s song lyrics of the day, and Kris’ selfies. He finishes with a smile and a bow as the applause booms. He returns to his seat just as Jongdae stands.
The applause is deafening. People stand. Girls scream. Jongdae grins and rips up the piece of paper he has with him. “Oops, I forgot to prepare a speech,” he says with a mock-speepish smile. Everyone laughs.
Midway through the talking, Joonmyun gets up and walks as fast as he can to the back, burying his face in Kris’ chest and hoping that he can just become a part of the taller man. No one will notice.
A hand rubs his back gently. “You did a great job,” Yixing commends, rare smile gracing his features. The others join in, congratulating him with whispered enthusiasm. It’s forced.
“Winning isn’t everything,” Tao states with a serious face.
Joonmyun nods miserably.
--
He’s sitting on the front steps outside, has been since the winner was announced. No one comes out here any more, so it’s a nice place to sit, listen to the wind, analyze shadows, and wonder what he did wrong.
“Hey.”
Joonmyun hastily wipes his eyes before looking up. Not crying. Just tired. “Congratulations,” he greets in return, hoping Jongdae’s parents will be happy for him. Joonmyun hopes he has a dad likes his own, a Harvard grad who has talked about nothing but his years serving as Class President for over a month now. “How does it feel?”
“Not that great,” Jongdae says seriously, plopping down beside Joonmyun and disregarding the other’s sullen attitude. “I made a mistake.”
Joonmyun acts like his interest hasn’t been piqued. “Oh. You did?”
“Yeah,” Jongdae leans his head on his hand, looking directly at Joonmyun. “I joined the race because I thought I could impress this guy because it seems like something that he would like. Stupid me, I completely forgot about the fact that he would probably be running too." He sighs needlessly loud. "Now he probably hates me.”
Joonmyun blinks. Then he sputters. “He doesn’t! Hate you. I mean, maybe. I wouldn’t know.” He looks away, and then mutters under his breath, “maybe he’s just a little jealous.”
“He shouldn’t be!” Jongdae exclaims, grinning widely. Joonmyun finds it a little mesmerizing. “In all seriousness, though, I am a horrible lead figure. I cannot possible fill this position without a Vice President who is better than me at everything. Any idea where I can find one?”
Joonmyun gapes.
Jongdae grins wider and leans forward, whispering into Joonmyun ear, “I like you.” He leans back and casually rests his hand on top of Joonmyun’s. “So, are you game?”
“Um,” Joonmyun says intelligently, brain short-wiring as he tries to process this. Jongdae. What even is Jongdae. “Sure. I’m game.”
Jongdae grins cheekily, giving his hand a little squeeze. “Awesome.”
Nominal Nonpareil
Suho/Chen, 2397
Kim Jongdae has the most beautiful name Joonmyun’s ever happened to come across.
A/N: Originally written here.
There are certain rules that are universally accepted, such as that the sky is blue and Monday is the worst day of the week. And there are the lesser known rules, but still just as full of truth, like A is red and wallet is an off shade of mauve.
When four-year old Joonmyun came home and told his parents that cat was his favorite word because it was so funnily colored that it was practically a mix of brown and yellow, they had both simply laughed him off and playfully agreed with his conclusions. But when he had to explain to them in high school that he didn’t need to make notecards to remember the vocabulary words for school because each one was a completely different color and he couldn’t possibly mix them up, phone calls were made.
The doctor had talked about his brain and his parents had shot him sympathetic glances, almost as if they believed that this was all their fault. They kept a close eye on him after that, asking him if he was seeing any colors. Joonmyun lied. Said words were as bland as bran cereal. Then he graduated high school and moved as far away as he could, embracing the colors that came to life behind his eyes every time he read about faraway places or learned a new word.
Halfway through college, he found his calling in organization and became a member of the Board of Certified Professional Organizers, was picked up by a developing company as a professional organizer, and hasn’t looked back since.
-
Kris bursts into the office, crumpled papers gripped tightly in his hands and eyes wild. He zones in on a frozen Joonmyun and marches forward.
“Have you-” He starts, stopping when the shorter man holds up a hand, peels his fingers away from the stacks of paper and replaces them with a cup of steaming hot coffee. He allows Joonmyun to seat him in his black leather computer chair, taking quick sips from the cup as the man hops onto the empty table, placing the mismatched stack of papers beside him.
“I have gone through and summarized the data of all the applicants, and the ones I believe are most suited to the job are on top, the least on the bottom.” Joonmyun’s smile grows as he watches the company head slowly deflate in the cushioned chair. The company is actually headed by two men-Kris and a well-meaning man named Chanyeol-but Kris usually ends up with the brunt of the work, so they hired Joonmyun to tone things down a bit.
After he’s actually tasted some of the coffee-black, no cream or sugar, as Joonmyun knows he likes-Kris stands and reaches around Joonmyun for the aforementioned folders and nods his head before stuffing them under his arm and heading back to the elevator.
Joonmyun smiles to himself and for the next hour, he busies himself with trying to make sense of all the papers Kris had been carrying. It’s just around lunch time that Chanyeol enters his office, grin on his face and manila folders in his hands.
“I have a question.”
Joonmyun glances up from sorting papers in time to see Chanyeol getting cosy on the corner of his desk. “Yes?” At his prompting, Chanyeol removes a manila folder from the pile and hands it to Joonmyun.
“I saw you labelled this one ‘highly consider.’ Do you know him?” Chanyeol nudges the manila closer to the seated man and taps his foot on the carpet. “I just need to make sure this isn’t a conflict of interest or anything. I mean, I’m fairly sure you’ve never met any of the applicants. But I just need to make sure. For Kris’ sake.”
Joonmyun laughs at that. “For Kris,” he agrees, flipping open the cover and scanning the cover page. Then he spots a name and has to close his eyes as color explodes behind his eyelids. Kim Jongdae, warm floods of pink, orange, and sharp flecks of yellow. Absolutely beautiful. “Ah, yes,” he starts, voice kept in a professional monotony, “although his references are subpar, I do think he’d make a great addition. But that’s just my opinion.”
“Excellent!” Chanyeol sings, hopping off the desk and flipping the folder shut with a loud snap. “I’ll have his orientation scheduled as soon as possible.”
-
"Hey, Joonmyun!"
He pauses, on his way back from the copy room, and offers Chanyeol and the man beside him a welcoming smile. "Do you need something? It's been a little too quiet today. I was worried."
Chanyeol laughs. "Yeah, Kris decided to take the day off, so the stress level of the entire building has decreased by ten thousand."
Joonmyun laughs. "I'm telling him when he comes back. Now, did you need me or...?"
Chanyeol seems to remember why he'd come in the first place. He pulls the man beside him into the small circle they've generated. "Sorry, I just wanted you to meet our newest employee. Joonmyun, meet Jongdae."
Joonmyun has to consciously keep his face neutral despite the inward shock he feels. Never has he seen someone who fits a name so well. Joonmyun can see the name in his mind’s eye, and can see it in the man in front of him as well. Warm pinks and oranges are showcased on the man’s flawless complexion and thick, dark hair tamed by some kind of gel. Sharp cheekbones give the man a striking appearance and add a flair of yellow to his countenance. It takes Joonmyun a minute before he notices the man is holding his hand out. Hastily, he meets him halfway, giving a welcoming shake and an apologetic smile.
“Welcome!” Joonmyun says, ignoring Chanyeol’s questioning stare. He drops the hand and starts walking away, smile still present. “I hope you like it here. Chanyeol, I need to go and update the calendar.” And then he flees to his office.
--
Joonmyun has a problem. It’s quite a big problem and it’s started to interfere with his work.
On the upside, Jongdae is a fantastic addition to the office. He’s a hit with the other workers and a master at instant coffee, he can make it taste like gourmet blend in seconds which is a godsend early in the morning. He’s also a diligent worker, something Chanyeol mentioned with a secret smile that Joonmyun ignored. He’s also Chanyeol’s new best friend which means a miserable Kris and photocopies of butts floating around the building but the others endure. Business has never been better.
On the flipside, this means that Joonmyun reads about Jongdae everywhere. There’s an article about him in the company newsletter, his nametag is on the door beside Chanyeol’s, and he’s included in almost every faculty meeting attendees list, which Joonmyun has to read and edit. t catches him off guard every time, and he has to sit in his chair for a good couple of minutes until the sensation subsides and his vision isn’t being bombarded with a blasts of soft pastel and bright sunshine yellow. It’s a major inconvenience and a waste of time. But he can’t ever feel annoyed by it, because he loves it. He loves the explosion of unique and contrasting colors that envelope him now like a second skin, welcoming and calming.
Joonmyun is in love with a name. Fantastic.
“Hey.” Chanyeol’s head pops into the doorway, lenseless glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Important meeting today at three.”
Joonmyun nods as his superior waves and leaves. Then he slams his head down onto his desk.
--
Sitting in a spinning chair with wheels is a religious experience and Joonmyun highly recommends it. It’s great for letting all the stress seep out of the body, which is why Kris owns five.
The seat beside him is drawn back and a co-worker joins him. Joonnmyun makes the mistake of looking over at the newcomer and chokes. Jongdae is next to him. Whoever had the bright idea of sitting him next to Kim Jongdae needs to be apprehended and given a severe lesson in the dreadful existence that is Joonmyun’s life as of late.
“Alright, the meeting will commence now,” Kris announces, and a lull falls over the room. He looks exhausted, as does Chanyeol beside him and Joonmyun wonders what he can do to ease their schedule a bit and allow them more time to sleep.
That idea flies out the window when an agenda is passed out, and the first thing Joonmyun sees is Jongdae’s name. He can’t help it. He’s bombarded with all the name entails, Kris’ voice a whisper in comparison. Joonmyun tries to decipher all the colors in the perfect blend that makes up Kim Jongdae. If he looks hard enough, he can see magenta, turquoise, and-
“Joonmyun,” a smooth voice hisses urgently in his ear.
Joonmyun snaps to attention, sees Jongdae staring at him with slight worry visible in the creases in his forehead-wow is he close-and looks around the room.
“Care to join us, Mr. Kim?” Kris asks, teeth gritted.
Joonmyun colors, sinking into his chair. “Sorry,” he murmurs, and to his relief, Kris moves on. The meeting’s over after he finishes his briefing, but Joonmyun stays as the others leave the room, head down so that he doesn’t catch Kris’ glare.
“Hey.”
He glances up and represses a groan. Of course the only other human being to stay in the room would be Jongdae. This whole thing is like a huge cosmic joke.
“You zone out a lot. Are you okay? Is that normal?” Jongdae even looks a little concerned. Joonmyun feels the urge to just collapse.
“Fine. I’m fine.” He waits for the man to leave. Jongdae stays. He crosses his arms in askance and the man looks away. “Did you need something?”
“Chanyeol said something the other day about you being the reason I was hired. So… thank you.”
Joonmyun rolls his eyes. Chanyeol could not be more unprofessional. “There is no need.”
“No really! I want to thank you so, um, how about dinner? I know a nice place a few blocks away. I’ll come pick you up at your office around six.” Joonmyun makes no reply. “Great! See you then!”
Joonmyun gapes as the man stands, waves at him, and then leaves. What.
--
Jongdae pops into his office at six on the dot. Joonmyun still hasn’t been able to tell whether it was a joke or not, so he closes down and packs up slowly, motioning for Jongdae to come in and take a seat. They leave the room together and walk side by side down the crowded streets until they reach a small building where Jongdae stops. He opens the door for Joonmyun, who forces a smile at the gesture and they walk in.
Jongdae goes right up to the waiter and says he has a reservation. Joonmyun is floored, but follows when the waiter motions them over to follow him. Joonmyun beams when he’s handed a menu, earlier mood be damned, because this is an italian restaurant.
Foreign languages are quite honestly fantastic. Joonmyun only speaks what he grew up with, but that doesn’t change the fact that each character, letter and number still has it’s own shade, so he feels himself cheer up when pasta primavera casts a scarlet glow in his mind.
“So,” Jongdae starts, startling him from his thoughts. “You’re doing it again. Care to let me in on the secret?” He asks with a hint of laughter.
Joonmyun bites his lip and considers. He’s never really told anyone before, never had to, but no one’s really asked. “I have color synesthesia. It means that when I see words, like this,” he offers up his menu, “I see color, too.”
Jongdae sets his own menu down. “That is incredible. What colors are you seeing?”
Joonmyun hums, closing his eyes for a second. “Mainly soft oranges and reds. There’s a few off-greens, too.” He opens his eyes. “It makes memorizing things a whole lot easier. I can usually just recognize the word by the color. So,” he clears his throat, “what are you getting?”
Jongdae shakes his head vehemently. “Hey, no! You can’t drop it just like that! Tell me more. Do you see it for names, too?”
“Yes.” Joonmyun really hopes he doesn’t ask.
“What’s Kris?”
Joonmyun exhales. Crisis averted. “Well, he’s a mix of violet and navy, but very solid. Almost too solid. Knew he was going to be a problem when I met him.”
Jongdae laughs at that. “Then, what about me?”
“You,” Joonmyun starts, wringing his hands. “You’re a mix of soft, bright shades, almost like sherbet. But more like a sunset? I don’t know, but it really stands out on newsletters. Your name is very unique.”
“Wow.” Jongdae looks like he wants to ask more, but is stopped by the appearance of the waiter. They pursue more casual conversation while they eat and Joonmyun is grateful.
At the end of the night, Jongdae pays though Joonmyun does everything to stop him. They idle at the door before Jongdae grabs his wrist and drags him outside, saying he wants to show him something. They walk over to the large park in the center of the city, and its only when they step onto lush grass that they realize they’re still holding hands. Jongdae lets go, looking away as he lies on his back. Joonmyun follows, hoping and praying that he doesn’t get any grass stains on his suit.
“What are we doing?”
Jongdae points at the sky. The sun is just setting, and after a few minutes, it’s barely over the horizon, painting the sky with marvelous shades of pink, orange, and dying yellow. Joonmyun looks at Jongdae and finds the man facing him. “Is it anything like that?”
“No,” Joonmyun answers right away. “It’s so much more. Vibrant. Alive. This pales in comparison.” He sighs, threading his fingers together behind his head. “I wish I could show you.”
Jongdae shakes his head. “No, I’d much rather you explain it to me.” He grins. The sky is now filled with only a waning glow, and the streetlamps are flickering on. Jongdae yawns. “We should do this again.”
Joonmyun laughs, thinking that a name has never fit a person better. “We should.”
Suho/Chen, 2906
Winning is impossible when the opponent is Kim Jongdae.
A/N: Originally written here.
Joonmyun steps on campus and stops in the middle of the surging crowd to take a deep breath, ignoring the shoves and shouts of the students trying to get past him because this is it. This is his year.
As a dutiful son and Ivy League hopeful, Joonmyun has been doing nothing but immersing himself in the diverse clubs the school has to offer-well that and keeping his straight-A record-and has done his best to become a community leader. As an officer of the art club last year, he had created a mural for the gloomy side of the building that had yet to be defaced, and for the environmental committee, he had designed a botanical garden in the back of the school with the help of a few architecture students and volunteers who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty for a good cause. And those were only a few accomplishments.
But his true goal, and the most coveted position of all time is just within his grasp: Senior Class President.
In the past, motivation had been at a record low, and only one person ended up running for the title. Joonmyun hopes it’ll be the same, he’s been spending three years talking about his hopes and dreams so really, everyone should know that he’ll be in the race. But that doesn’t mean that he’s not prepared.
He has been spending all summer thinking up catchy slogans and planning his entire campaign. He’s ready. He was born ready.
So after the last announcements are made at the end of the day, Joonmyun troops down to the front office and hands in the slip of paper he’d received before the school year, the paper that would ensure his running and subsequent winning of the student body election. The nice woman behind the desk takes it with a smile and settles it beside her.
“You know, it’s funny,” she starts with a queer kind of smile, “this is the first year we’ve had more than one candidate.”
Joonmyun stops breathing. Before he can control himself, he hoists himself over the desk, ignores the secretary’s squawk, and peeks at the papers on the desk until he spots a name. When he sees it, his jaw drops.
Kim Jongdae.
--
There is no way he is going to win this alone, not when Kim Jongdae is his opponent. While not the sharpest tack, the kid is a born and bred extrovert and has befriended everyone in a five mile radius. So really, Joonmyun is forced to call in backup.
He whines to gain attention from the slumbering giant across from him in the library. The bleached blond slowly raises his head and regards Joonmyun through bleary eyes. “Ugh. What time is it?”
“It is wonderful to see you too, Kris. It is currently halfway through third period, so I took the liberty of telling your teacher that you were sick and I was monitoring you in the nurse’s office.” He taps the heel of his foot against the chair leg, wondering when Kris will cut to the chase.
“You know my schedule? And what, do you just aide all day or something?”
“I make it my business to know the schedule of everyone that matters. And yes.”
Kris frowns, blinks, and then drops his head back onto the table. “What’d you want?”
Joonmyun beams, able to decipher the question although it is mumbled into a shirt sleeve. “So, I don’t know if you’re aware, but the student body elections are soon.”
“You’re running.” Kris shifts to meet Joonmyun’s eyes. “Of course.”
“Of course,” Joonmyun agrees with a half-grin. “It’s just that Kim Jongdae has entered the race too, so-” He is unable to finish because Kris shoots out of his chair, cursing loudly when his knee bangs the bottom of the table.
“No kidding!” He says finally. “Then you might not win. Wow, this is going to be a tough one. Good luck, though.”
“Wait. That’s why I came.”
Kris raises a thick eyebrow, looking only slightly intimidating. But Joonmyun knows about his pony sticker-adorned books so he remains unfazed. For the most part.
“I was wondering if you could help me. You know, with the campaign and all that. I have no idea who to ask and what to do. I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”
“I don’t think anyone was.” Kris muses. “But hey, no problem. I think I know some people.” He returns Joonmyun’s grin and then yawns. “Right. So could you go and monitor me from somewhere else, now?”
Joonmyun speeds away from the table, closing the door softly behind him.
--
When he comes to school the next day, Kris is waiting next to the front gates. He stops in place and Kris groans, stomping over and throwing an arm over his shoulder so that he can drag him away from the morning crowd.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he squeaks.
“Apology not accepted,” Kris grunts, “but anyway, here’s a couple guys I rounded up. Meet Minseok. Oh, and Luhan. But he’s not helpful don’t pay any attention to him.”
The slightly shorter man huffs. “I wouldn’t have come. But Minseok insisted so-”
“Hi!” The shortest chirps, sticking out a hand that Joonmyun wearily shakes. “I’m Joonmyun and I help tutor literature, and Kris said you might need help writing a speech.”
Joonmyun starts. He looks at Kris, who smirks, and then back at Minseok. “That would be, wow, so fantastic! You’re really willing to do that?”
Minseok scoffs. “It’s no problem for me. Plus, aren’t the elections in a couple of weeks? I’d be happy to help.”
Joonmyun frowns at the mention of time. Right.
“It’s a problem for me,” Luhan mutters, crossing his arms.
There’s three dull tones in the background and Joonmyun snaps to attention. “I’ve got to get to class,” he worries, tearing himself away from Kris. He shakes Minseok’s hand one more time, saying, “thanks again,” and then he’s off.
--
Kris finds him in the halls every single day that week and Joonmyun vaguely wonders if his classmate attends any of his courses before he’s being thrusted in the direction of someone he’s never even seen before. He takes this as a sign that he needs to branch out, which he will of course do. After he wins elections.
Today he’s being thrown at a boy his height who looks half amused with the situation. Joonmyun shoots Kris a glare before holding out his hand. “Joonmyun. I guess Kris told you about the situation?”
The boy nods, adjusting the headphones around his neck. “I am Yixing. I’m in the Players Club. Theatre. Kris talked to me because he was worried about your stage presence or,” his eyes glint and Joonmyun gulps, “any stage fright.”
Joonmyun gives a dry laugh that echoes in the sound room, a tiny little thing that overlooks the auditorium. Right now it’s a mess of wires and tapes but that’s just because they’ve started gearing up for the fall musical. Mentally, he adds this Yixing to the list of people Kris has recruited, which includes Minseok, his irritable shadow Luhan, and a happy-go-lucky freshman named Tao that Kris had insisted he needs for rallying purposes. Tao had bounced happily as Joonmyun keyed in his number to the younger’s contact list and then the six foot tall ball of happiness had skipped away. Since then, Joonmyun wakes up every day to a good morning! (≧∇≦)/ on his phone and he supposes that it’s not all that bad.
“The auditorium is free during fourth period, and I can hook everything up so that it’ll seem more real. How does that sound?” Yixing smiles, then checks his watch. “Um, Kris, we have photo now.”
The taller man blinks. “Since when has that been a thing?”
--
Joonmyun has never exactly talked to Jongdae. He’s heard him talk, sure-who hasn’t?-but he’s never actually had a real heart to heart with the guy.
It’s seven days until D Day when he passes the life ruiner in the main corridor. To Joonmyun’s surprise, it’s Jongdae who stops him.
“Hey,” Jongdae greets, smile charming and grip loose enough to break free, if Joonmyun wanted to. “So elections are in a week, and I know you’re doing your best so, good luck!”
Joonmyun opens his mouth to thank the guy because, wow, he was so wrong and Jongdae really isn’t that bad, but then a pair of girls walk past them and one whispers to the other, “yeah, he’s going to need it,” and Joonmyun rips his hand free of the hold. Now that he thinks about it, Jondae’s always been a sarcastic kind of guy, and hold up. He’s moking him. Joonmyun scowls.
“You too,” he snaps, turning on his heel and walking away, not able to see the confused and hurt glance Jongdae sends him as he throws open the door to Advanced Trig and disappears.
--
“So, I’ve gotta jet but here you are.” Kris gestures to the room behind him. It’s past six in the afternoon and every other sane human being has already fled the building.
Joonmyun frowns. “You’re not going in with me?”
Kris laughs. “You’re not going to make a very good fearless leader.” And then he pulls open the door and pushes Joonmyun inside.
Three heads pop up upon his arrival. It’s an art studio, in the wide open art wing, so the walls are littered with all different kinds of work, macaroni and acrylic alike, and the desks are strewn about the room, covered in dried paint, clay, hopes and dreams.
“Hi,” Joonmyun greets, offering a small smile and a wave. Two of the three wave back, a very tall boy so enthusiastically that he falls off the desk he’s perched on and face plants onto the floor. A dark haired boy looks on, lip curled.
“So, Kris told us something about the elections…?” One of the two seated says, watching as his awkwardly tall friend rights himself. “Sorry, we weren’t really listening. Too busy looking at his pants.”
“They were abhorrent,” the gloomy one states, sketching something onto the pad beneath him.
“Oh, well, I’m running for Class President next week, and I was wondering if you would mind helping me make posters? I really can’t create anything artistic to save my life,” Joonmyun finishes with a self-deprecating laugh.
The tall one looks alarmed. “Um. You know we’re all friends with Jongdae, right?” Well. That explains it. The most talkative out of the three goes on, “we have been since middle school. Helping out the opposition would be-”
“A great idea,” the boy has stopped sketching, looking interested. “We’ll help you. We can have posters done by the end of the week. Just send someone to pick them up and hang them around the school.”
“Kyungsoo,” the tallest says in an outraged, but still ridiculously low, tone. “What are you doing?”
“He didn’t ask for any help and that’s his own problem. If someone else needs it, then it’s his loss,” Kyungsoo snaps. “Baekhyun, stop and get me some of that nice poster paper on your way home.”
The dark-haired boy groans. “Chanyeol, go with me?”
The tallest nods eagerly, leaning on a row of desks. He notices that Joonmyun hasn’t left yet. “No worries,” he says with a grin, “with a sign by Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, there’s no way you can’t win.”
--
He has three days. Three days to nail the speech he and Minseok spent hours writing and editing (while Luhan sat in a corner and moped.)
“Are you even trying?” Yixing questions doubtfully. “Where is the emotion? The life? Your speech is a dead man who has come back for his dentures, Joonmyun.”
Yixing is a strange person who uses strange analogies and Joonmyun has learned to deal with them. He clears his throat and prepares to start again.
The double doors in the back of the auditorium slam open and Kris marches in, dragging two sullen boys whilst Tao skips along behind him.
“What are you doing?” Joonmyun snaps. “I know for a fact that Tao has a class right now.”
“Carry your voice,” Yixing reminds him gently.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”Joonmyun tries again. Yixing claps.
“This is Sehun and Jongin and they will be your best friends for the next couple of grueling days. Isn’t that right?” Both boys groan in response.
“They tried to steal Kris’ bike so he grabbed them and brought them straight here,” Tao chirps helpfully.
“It wasn’t even that good of a bike. We could’ve maybe gotten five bucks for parts, if Jongin could even get it apart. That thing was rusted solid.”
“Piece of crap,” Jongin agrees.
“Joonmyun, I think you should make them clean the school. Top to bottom. Just a suggestion.” Kris shrugs nonchalantly, grip unrelenting.
“I think Baekhyun said that Kyungsoo was done with the posters. They could put those up?” Joonmyun supplies and Kris nods, letting go and instructing Tao to walk them down. He collapses into a cushioned chair. The upholstery is starting to wear away, revealing ugly yellow foam, but the school doesn’t have the time or luxury to replace them.
“So, how are you doing?”
“Great,” Joonmyun lies. But then he remembers all the work that he, Kris, and everyone else has put into this campaign. His gaze hardens. “We’re going to knock the socks off of Kim Jongdae.”
--
“The position of Class President is possibly the most important job in the entire school.” Joonmyun nods in agreement. He’s been nodding almost nonstop throughout the principal’s speech. “That is why I ask you to vote carefully and thoughtfully. Not just for your friends! Alright, have at it. First up, we have Kim Joonmyun.”
Joonmyun shakily rises to his feet, aware of the tired clapping surrounding him and the loud whoops coming from the rear. On stage, he can see the ten boys gathered in the back, large smiles gracing each of their faces-even Minseok and Sehun-and Joonmyun smiles right back before unfolding his piece of paper and taking a deep breath.
The speech is second nature by now. Minseok and Yixing have drilled it into his mind so well that his attention wanders as he talks about his capabilities and goals. He remembers the hoard of papers littering every single hallway with his face dead center, drawn in fine pointed Sharpie. He thinks of the texts in the morning that had started with Tao, and grown to include Jongin’s complaints, Chanyeol’s song lyrics of the day, and Kris’ selfies. He finishes with a smile and a bow as the applause booms. He returns to his seat just as Jongdae stands.
The applause is deafening. People stand. Girls scream. Jongdae grins and rips up the piece of paper he has with him. “Oops, I forgot to prepare a speech,” he says with a mock-speepish smile. Everyone laughs.
Midway through the talking, Joonmyun gets up and walks as fast as he can to the back, burying his face in Kris’ chest and hoping that he can just become a part of the taller man. No one will notice.
A hand rubs his back gently. “You did a great job,” Yixing commends, rare smile gracing his features. The others join in, congratulating him with whispered enthusiasm. It’s forced.
“Winning isn’t everything,” Tao states with a serious face.
Joonmyun nods miserably.
--
He’s sitting on the front steps outside, has been since the winner was announced. No one comes out here any more, so it’s a nice place to sit, listen to the wind, analyze shadows, and wonder what he did wrong.
“Hey.”
Joonmyun hastily wipes his eyes before looking up. Not crying. Just tired. “Congratulations,” he greets in return, hoping Jongdae’s parents will be happy for him. Joonmyun hopes he has a dad likes his own, a Harvard grad who has talked about nothing but his years serving as Class President for over a month now. “How does it feel?”
“Not that great,” Jongdae says seriously, plopping down beside Joonmyun and disregarding the other’s sullen attitude. “I made a mistake.”
Joonmyun acts like his interest hasn’t been piqued. “Oh. You did?”
“Yeah,” Jongdae leans his head on his hand, looking directly at Joonmyun. “I joined the race because I thought I could impress this guy because it seems like something that he would like. Stupid me, I completely forgot about the fact that he would probably be running too." He sighs needlessly loud. "Now he probably hates me.”
Joonmyun blinks. Then he sputters. “He doesn’t! Hate you. I mean, maybe. I wouldn’t know.” He looks away, and then mutters under his breath, “maybe he’s just a little jealous.”
“He shouldn’t be!” Jongdae exclaims, grinning widely. Joonmyun finds it a little mesmerizing. “In all seriousness, though, I am a horrible lead figure. I cannot possible fill this position without a Vice President who is better than me at everything. Any idea where I can find one?”
Joonmyun gapes.
Jongdae grins wider and leans forward, whispering into Joonmyun ear, “I like you.” He leans back and casually rests his hand on top of Joonmyun’s. “So, are you game?”
“Um,” Joonmyun says intelligently, brain short-wiring as he tries to process this. Jongdae. What even is Jongdae. “Sure. I’m game.”
Jongdae grins cheekily, giving his hand a little squeeze. “Awesome.”
Nominal Nonpareil
Suho/Chen, 2397
Kim Jongdae has the most beautiful name Joonmyun’s ever happened to come across.
A/N: Originally written here.
There are certain rules that are universally accepted, such as that the sky is blue and Monday is the worst day of the week. And there are the lesser known rules, but still just as full of truth, like A is red and wallet is an off shade of mauve.
When four-year old Joonmyun came home and told his parents that cat was his favorite word because it was so funnily colored that it was practically a mix of brown and yellow, they had both simply laughed him off and playfully agreed with his conclusions. But when he had to explain to them in high school that he didn’t need to make notecards to remember the vocabulary words for school because each one was a completely different color and he couldn’t possibly mix them up, phone calls were made.
The doctor had talked about his brain and his parents had shot him sympathetic glances, almost as if they believed that this was all their fault. They kept a close eye on him after that, asking him if he was seeing any colors. Joonmyun lied. Said words were as bland as bran cereal. Then he graduated high school and moved as far away as he could, embracing the colors that came to life behind his eyes every time he read about faraway places or learned a new word.
Halfway through college, he found his calling in organization and became a member of the Board of Certified Professional Organizers, was picked up by a developing company as a professional organizer, and hasn’t looked back since.
-
Kris bursts into the office, crumpled papers gripped tightly in his hands and eyes wild. He zones in on a frozen Joonmyun and marches forward.
“Have you-” He starts, stopping when the shorter man holds up a hand, peels his fingers away from the stacks of paper and replaces them with a cup of steaming hot coffee. He allows Joonmyun to seat him in his black leather computer chair, taking quick sips from the cup as the man hops onto the empty table, placing the mismatched stack of papers beside him.
“I have gone through and summarized the data of all the applicants, and the ones I believe are most suited to the job are on top, the least on the bottom.” Joonmyun’s smile grows as he watches the company head slowly deflate in the cushioned chair. The company is actually headed by two men-Kris and a well-meaning man named Chanyeol-but Kris usually ends up with the brunt of the work, so they hired Joonmyun to tone things down a bit.
After he’s actually tasted some of the coffee-black, no cream or sugar, as Joonmyun knows he likes-Kris stands and reaches around Joonmyun for the aforementioned folders and nods his head before stuffing them under his arm and heading back to the elevator.
Joonmyun smiles to himself and for the next hour, he busies himself with trying to make sense of all the papers Kris had been carrying. It’s just around lunch time that Chanyeol enters his office, grin on his face and manila folders in his hands.
“I have a question.”
Joonmyun glances up from sorting papers in time to see Chanyeol getting cosy on the corner of his desk. “Yes?” At his prompting, Chanyeol removes a manila folder from the pile and hands it to Joonmyun.
“I saw you labelled this one ‘highly consider.’ Do you know him?” Chanyeol nudges the manila closer to the seated man and taps his foot on the carpet. “I just need to make sure this isn’t a conflict of interest or anything. I mean, I’m fairly sure you’ve never met any of the applicants. But I just need to make sure. For Kris’ sake.”
Joonmyun laughs at that. “For Kris,” he agrees, flipping open the cover and scanning the cover page. Then he spots a name and has to close his eyes as color explodes behind his eyelids. Kim Jongdae, warm floods of pink, orange, and sharp flecks of yellow. Absolutely beautiful. “Ah, yes,” he starts, voice kept in a professional monotony, “although his references are subpar, I do think he’d make a great addition. But that’s just my opinion.”
“Excellent!” Chanyeol sings, hopping off the desk and flipping the folder shut with a loud snap. “I’ll have his orientation scheduled as soon as possible.”
-
"Hey, Joonmyun!"
He pauses, on his way back from the copy room, and offers Chanyeol and the man beside him a welcoming smile. "Do you need something? It's been a little too quiet today. I was worried."
Chanyeol laughs. "Yeah, Kris decided to take the day off, so the stress level of the entire building has decreased by ten thousand."
Joonmyun laughs. "I'm telling him when he comes back. Now, did you need me or...?"
Chanyeol seems to remember why he'd come in the first place. He pulls the man beside him into the small circle they've generated. "Sorry, I just wanted you to meet our newest employee. Joonmyun, meet Jongdae."
Joonmyun has to consciously keep his face neutral despite the inward shock he feels. Never has he seen someone who fits a name so well. Joonmyun can see the name in his mind’s eye, and can see it in the man in front of him as well. Warm pinks and oranges are showcased on the man’s flawless complexion and thick, dark hair tamed by some kind of gel. Sharp cheekbones give the man a striking appearance and add a flair of yellow to his countenance. It takes Joonmyun a minute before he notices the man is holding his hand out. Hastily, he meets him halfway, giving a welcoming shake and an apologetic smile.
“Welcome!” Joonmyun says, ignoring Chanyeol’s questioning stare. He drops the hand and starts walking away, smile still present. “I hope you like it here. Chanyeol, I need to go and update the calendar.” And then he flees to his office.
--
Joonmyun has a problem. It’s quite a big problem and it’s started to interfere with his work.
On the upside, Jongdae is a fantastic addition to the office. He’s a hit with the other workers and a master at instant coffee, he can make it taste like gourmet blend in seconds which is a godsend early in the morning. He’s also a diligent worker, something Chanyeol mentioned with a secret smile that Joonmyun ignored. He’s also Chanyeol’s new best friend which means a miserable Kris and photocopies of butts floating around the building but the others endure. Business has never been better.
On the flipside, this means that Joonmyun reads about Jongdae everywhere. There’s an article about him in the company newsletter, his nametag is on the door beside Chanyeol’s, and he’s included in almost every faculty meeting attendees list, which Joonmyun has to read and edit. t catches him off guard every time, and he has to sit in his chair for a good couple of minutes until the sensation subsides and his vision isn’t being bombarded with a blasts of soft pastel and bright sunshine yellow. It’s a major inconvenience and a waste of time. But he can’t ever feel annoyed by it, because he loves it. He loves the explosion of unique and contrasting colors that envelope him now like a second skin, welcoming and calming.
Joonmyun is in love with a name. Fantastic.
“Hey.” Chanyeol’s head pops into the doorway, lenseless glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Important meeting today at three.”
Joonmyun nods as his superior waves and leaves. Then he slams his head down onto his desk.
--
Sitting in a spinning chair with wheels is a religious experience and Joonmyun highly recommends it. It’s great for letting all the stress seep out of the body, which is why Kris owns five.
The seat beside him is drawn back and a co-worker joins him. Joonnmyun makes the mistake of looking over at the newcomer and chokes. Jongdae is next to him. Whoever had the bright idea of sitting him next to Kim Jongdae needs to be apprehended and given a severe lesson in the dreadful existence that is Joonmyun’s life as of late.
“Alright, the meeting will commence now,” Kris announces, and a lull falls over the room. He looks exhausted, as does Chanyeol beside him and Joonmyun wonders what he can do to ease their schedule a bit and allow them more time to sleep.
That idea flies out the window when an agenda is passed out, and the first thing Joonmyun sees is Jongdae’s name. He can’t help it. He’s bombarded with all the name entails, Kris’ voice a whisper in comparison. Joonmyun tries to decipher all the colors in the perfect blend that makes up Kim Jongdae. If he looks hard enough, he can see magenta, turquoise, and-
“Joonmyun,” a smooth voice hisses urgently in his ear.
Joonmyun snaps to attention, sees Jongdae staring at him with slight worry visible in the creases in his forehead-wow is he close-and looks around the room.
“Care to join us, Mr. Kim?” Kris asks, teeth gritted.
Joonmyun colors, sinking into his chair. “Sorry,” he murmurs, and to his relief, Kris moves on. The meeting’s over after he finishes his briefing, but Joonmyun stays as the others leave the room, head down so that he doesn’t catch Kris’ glare.
“Hey.”
He glances up and represses a groan. Of course the only other human being to stay in the room would be Jongdae. This whole thing is like a huge cosmic joke.
“You zone out a lot. Are you okay? Is that normal?” Jongdae even looks a little concerned. Joonmyun feels the urge to just collapse.
“Fine. I’m fine.” He waits for the man to leave. Jongdae stays. He crosses his arms in askance and the man looks away. “Did you need something?”
“Chanyeol said something the other day about you being the reason I was hired. So… thank you.”
Joonmyun rolls his eyes. Chanyeol could not be more unprofessional. “There is no need.”
“No really! I want to thank you so, um, how about dinner? I know a nice place a few blocks away. I’ll come pick you up at your office around six.” Joonmyun makes no reply. “Great! See you then!”
Joonmyun gapes as the man stands, waves at him, and then leaves. What.
--
Jongdae pops into his office at six on the dot. Joonmyun still hasn’t been able to tell whether it was a joke or not, so he closes down and packs up slowly, motioning for Jongdae to come in and take a seat. They leave the room together and walk side by side down the crowded streets until they reach a small building where Jongdae stops. He opens the door for Joonmyun, who forces a smile at the gesture and they walk in.
Jongdae goes right up to the waiter and says he has a reservation. Joonmyun is floored, but follows when the waiter motions them over to follow him. Joonmyun beams when he’s handed a menu, earlier mood be damned, because this is an italian restaurant.
Foreign languages are quite honestly fantastic. Joonmyun only speaks what he grew up with, but that doesn’t change the fact that each character, letter and number still has it’s own shade, so he feels himself cheer up when pasta primavera casts a scarlet glow in his mind.
“So,” Jongdae starts, startling him from his thoughts. “You’re doing it again. Care to let me in on the secret?” He asks with a hint of laughter.
Joonmyun bites his lip and considers. He’s never really told anyone before, never had to, but no one’s really asked. “I have color synesthesia. It means that when I see words, like this,” he offers up his menu, “I see color, too.”
Jongdae sets his own menu down. “That is incredible. What colors are you seeing?”
Joonmyun hums, closing his eyes for a second. “Mainly soft oranges and reds. There’s a few off-greens, too.” He opens his eyes. “It makes memorizing things a whole lot easier. I can usually just recognize the word by the color. So,” he clears his throat, “what are you getting?”
Jongdae shakes his head vehemently. “Hey, no! You can’t drop it just like that! Tell me more. Do you see it for names, too?”
“Yes.” Joonmyun really hopes he doesn’t ask.
“What’s Kris?”
Joonmyun exhales. Crisis averted. “Well, he’s a mix of violet and navy, but very solid. Almost too solid. Knew he was going to be a problem when I met him.”
Jongdae laughs at that. “Then, what about me?”
“You,” Joonmyun starts, wringing his hands. “You’re a mix of soft, bright shades, almost like sherbet. But more like a sunset? I don’t know, but it really stands out on newsletters. Your name is very unique.”
“Wow.” Jongdae looks like he wants to ask more, but is stopped by the appearance of the waiter. They pursue more casual conversation while they eat and Joonmyun is grateful.
At the end of the night, Jongdae pays though Joonmyun does everything to stop him. They idle at the door before Jongdae grabs his wrist and drags him outside, saying he wants to show him something. They walk over to the large park in the center of the city, and its only when they step onto lush grass that they realize they’re still holding hands. Jongdae lets go, looking away as he lies on his back. Joonmyun follows, hoping and praying that he doesn’t get any grass stains on his suit.
“What are we doing?”
Jongdae points at the sky. The sun is just setting, and after a few minutes, it’s barely over the horizon, painting the sky with marvelous shades of pink, orange, and dying yellow. Joonmyun looks at Jongdae and finds the man facing him. “Is it anything like that?”
“No,” Joonmyun answers right away. “It’s so much more. Vibrant. Alive. This pales in comparison.” He sighs, threading his fingers together behind his head. “I wish I could show you.”
Jongdae shakes his head. “No, I’d much rather you explain it to me.” He grins. The sky is now filled with only a waning glow, and the streetlamps are flickering on. Jongdae yawns. “We should do this again.”
Joonmyun laughs, thinking that a name has never fit a person better. “We should.”