home is where the heart is and other clichés
Title: home is where the heart is and other clichés
Pairing: Kris/Chanyeol
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,394
A/N: Entry for SNCJ Reverse Big Bang. The entry is locked in the comm so here is a repost.
---
The world has a vendetta against him.
Wufan is sure of this. When he had first moved to Korea, following a short audition that promised him dreams come true and fame beyond his imaginations, Wufan knew the journey would probably be the most difficult of his life. Leaving his family behind, resorting to late night ramen runs because he doesn’t have enough money, learning a language where the syllables are too round and the words are too foreign- he had prepared himself for all that. But now it’s just getting ridiculous.
His locker has been vandalized for the third time this month and among the various stolen items is a black umbrella. Usually Wufan would brush off the immature jokes of fellow trainees, but the fact that there is a fucking monsoon blowing outside makes this day the worst in a long while. He just wants to crawl back to the dorms, drink some of Yixing’s herbal tea, and pretend that the world doesn’t exist for a few hours. Too bad he’s stuck in the company lobby, watching as a torrent of rain water falls from the skies.
Wufan continues to glare at the world when someone shouts in his ear. He jumps in surprise, turning around quickly to receive a face full of hair. Sputtering a bit, he steps back to see large brown eyes and a wide mouth beaming up at him. A boy, a few years younger and many inches shorter, stands right behind him. He has light brown hair that falls messily around his face and large ears that hang almost comically next to a round face.
“Can I help you?”
It’s one of the few phrases Wufan knows how to pronounce correctly in Korean, and he hopes it’s enough. The boy’s smile stretches wider before he talks loudly, hands flying dangerously close to Wufan’s face as he gestures wildly at the rain outside. Wufan thinks he catches “tiger” and “sunshine” in between flashes of bright teeth. What the hell.
“Sorry,” Wufan tries. He gives a small shrug when the boy tries to speak again. “No speak the Korean.”
The boy’s mouth droops down, teeth biting into his lips as he rubs his hair. Wufan would think the action to be endearing if he didn’t already have a massive headache pounding at the back of his skull. Offering a small wave instead, Wufan turns, ready to brave the downpour, when thin fingers grasp his wrist.
“What-”
He looks down to see a small blue umbrella shoved into his hand. Little penguins are printed along the polyester fabric and there’s a pink bear keychain hanging from the handle. By the time Wufan glances up again, the boy has already run outside. Wet hair plastered to his face and a ridiculously huge grin spread across his small face, he turns for a final wave before disappearing into the rain.
---
“I didn’t realize you had such...interesting tastes,” Luhan comments when Wufan finally manages to get back home. His shoes are soaked through and his jeans cling tightly like a second skin. At least his shirt and backpack are somewhat dry.
“Not mine,” he grunts, shaking the rain water off his hoodie.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” Luhan says. There’s an amused grin on his face as he reaches for the small umbrella. “It’s kind of cute. Quite unlike yourself.”
“Fuck you,” Wufan mutters. Luhan raises an eyebrow at the unfamiliar words.
“Yixing!” he shouts, dropping the umbrella on Wufan’s foot. “Wufan is cursing at me in English again!”
“No English! Only Mandarin in this house!” Yixing shouts from further inside the apartment. When Luhan turns to give him a cheeky grin, Wufan doesn’t hesitate to throw his wet shoe at the latter’s head. He relishes the high-pitched shriek Luhan lets out as he dashes away.
“How are you older than me?” Wufan snickers.
“How are both of you older than me?” Yixing deadpans as he enters the foyer, where Luhan runs to hide behind his back. Yixing groans as he looks at the growing puddles that surround Wufan. “I just cleaned the apartment today.”
“Not my fault,” Wufan replies, giving an apologetic shrug. “Have you even seen the weather outside?”
Yixing only sighs before he eyes the umbrella. “Interesting.”
“It’s an umbrella,” Wufan huffs. “You two need to get over it.”
“But it’s for children,” Luhan says, his voice nearly a soft coo. He reaches for the umbrella again, brushing a finger against the penguins that decorate the fabric, and then flicks some water onto Wufan’s face. “What are you, like secretly a pedophile or something?”
“How was practice?” Yixing quickly says, stepping in between the two boys before they attack one another. Wufan glares around him at Luhan before slowly shifting his gaze back.
“All right,” he replies. “Some kids stole my stuff which is why-”
“Again?” Yixing’s lips are curled down displeasingly. “Isn’t this already the fifth time?”
“You know how it is. We’re foreign trainees.” Wufan makes his way down the hall to the bathroom, scattering raindrops along the way as he ruffles his hair.
“I get along with them just fine,” Luhan says. He yells loudly when Yixing slaps whacks him on the shoulder.
“Yeah, well some of us aren’t born with baby faces,” Wufan retorts, looking at him pointedly. He purposely reaches for Luhan’s towel and proceeds to dry his hair.
“It gets easier,” Yixing says gently. “Just find some Korean kid to hang out with and they’ll leave you alone.”
“Yeah right,” Wufan snorts. “I have a better chance of jumping off a rooftop and flying.”
Yixing only gives a soft laugh, offering him another towel. “Oh, you never know.”
---
The monsoon turns into a light drizzle by the next morning. The streets of Seoul are murky under the cloudy sky and there’s a stench of gasoline and smoke that hangs in the air. Wufan takes in all of this with a grim face as he heads for rehearsals.
He misses the fresh air and tall trees that fill his home back in Canada and longs for his mother’s warm Cantonese words mixed with the loud shouts of his friends. The familiar rap music that blasts through his headphones does little to quell the homesickness that burns in his chest. He continues to trudge through the streets, passing by sounds and sights that only increase his loneliness.
“And here’s to another day,” he sighs when he spots the familiar company logo. Breathing deeply, he steps inside.
Luhan is chatting animatedly with some lanky Korean kid with pale skin when Wufan enters the practice room. Yixing only gives a small shrug when he asks about the boy, and instead drags Wufan down on the floor to do their stretches. His muscles still burn after yesterday’s practice but he humors Yixing for a while, half-heartedly touching his toes for a bit before he opts to lie on the hard floors instead.
The dance instructor is five minutes late, and Wufan is contemplating a nap on the hard, dirty practice room floors, when he notices a familiar round face passes by the room. Wufan quickly rifles through his bag before he grabs Luhan's arm and drags him out the room, ignoring the elder’s noisy complaints as they run down the hall. They eventually catch up to the boy from yesterday and Wufan awkwardly thrusts the umbrella towards him.
"Thanks," he mumbles. The Korean word sounds rough on his tongue, unfamiliar no matter how many times he's practiced it, and he thinks he can hear Luhan laugh quietly under his breath.
The kid smiles and takes the umbrella from him, rough fingers brushing against Wufan's palm, as he begins to talk rapidly. Luhan listens for a while; there’s an amused expression on his face when he turns to Wufan.
"Apparently, he tried to tell you yesterday that tigers get married when the sun shines while it's raining."
Wufan blinks at him, trying his best not to frown. "The actual fuck?"
"Like I would know any better," Luhan says. "I think it's a Korean fable or something."
Wufan groans quietly because he really doesn't have time for Korean fables right now. The dance instructor is coming down the hall and he sees Yixing waving urgently at them to come back. The boy follows Wufan's gaze, eyes widening as he notices the instructor. He says something to Luhan in hasty syllables, flashing Wufan a blinding smile, before he runs down the hall.
"He invited us to lunch," Luhan says as they're walking back. "Well, it was more like he invited you-"
"Who was that guy?" Yixing joins them. He sees Luhan's sly grin and eagerly looks to Wufan.
"Wufan's crush," Luhan replies, snickering obnoxiously.
"No. He's just some kid," Wufan says, pushing away Luhan's leering face. "I don't even know what he's saying half the time."
"Language cannot come between those whom you truly love," Luhan dramatically sighs, clutching at his chest as he leans onto Yixing.
"I will cut you-"
"Well, he seems kind of cute," Yixing tries. "At least humor the kid and eat lunch with him."
Wufan snorts, turning away from the pair.
"Hey, you could use a Korean friend around here," Yixing says quietly. The dance instructor begins the count, demonstrating some new moves, and Wufan sighs when he sees how complex the routine is.
"I don't need a Korean anybody," Wufan replies. He watches with envy as Yixing flawlessly copies the instructor, limbs moving smoothly in ways that Wufan knows he can never achieve.
"It won't always just be us. Besides, maybe the other trainees will stop picking on you."
"I don't need-"
"How many sweatshirts and bags have you 'lost' already?" Luhan jumps in. He nudges Wufan lightly on the shoulder but there's concern in those playful eyes. "Come on. It's one meal, Wufan."
The instructor shouts at the trio to pay attention, eyeing Wufan in particular, before he resumes his teaching. Wufan fumbles as he tries to will his limbs to bend in a way that might remotely resemble dancing. How the hell is he supposed to pop his chest out like that, and dear god, are the instructor’s hips double jointed or something...
"Fine," Wufan gives in at the end of practice. He's soaking in sweat, wet strands of hair hanging over his eyes and shallow breaths coming out in uneven pants. "But you guys have to come with me."
---
The cafeteria in SM is probably the number one reason why Wufan comes back to the company day after day. Achieving dreams is great and all, but the warm, freshly prepared food is something more tangible that he can reward himself with after a long practice. Wufan eagerly heads for the cafeteria lines, scanning through the day’s specials.
“Why am I coming with you guys again?” Yixing asks. He eyes a plate of dukbokki before reaching for the salad.
“Because I can’t speak Korean,” Wufan replies, grabbing multiple dishes. He hesitates briefly and then adds a box of cookies. “And I don’t trust Luhan.”
The said boy is already seated at a table, chatting excitedly with a few kids from their dance class, when he spots the pair and waves them over. Wufan barely has time to squeeze into a plastic seat before Luhan begins to introduce people.
“This is Sehun,” he says in slow Korean, nudging the pale boy that sits next to him. Wufan tries not to smirk when he sees the Korean boy blush at Luhan’s touch.
The tan kid with sleepy eyes leaning on Yixing is Jongin, a prodigy who’s supposed to debut soon, and another pale boy, but more mature and with a ridiculously gorgeous smile, introduces himself as Joonmyun. He tries to say hello in Mandarin, but the stilted words and awkward pronunciation only cause Wufan to chuckle lightly as he offers the other a grateful nod.
“And this,” Luhan smiles a little too happily as he points to someone next to Wufan, “this is Chanyeol.”
Wufan turns to see Umbrella Boy beaming up at him, teeth shining brightly as he speaks in a rapid succession of words. Seeing the look of confusion on Wufan’s face, Chanyeol looks pointedly at Luhan.
“What is he saying?” Wufan asks. He then notices how Chanyeol seems to be attached to his side and discreetly attempts to inch away from the boy.
“He thinks you’re very handsome up close,” Luhan snickers. Yixing catches his words and laughs loudly, causing Jongin to look up in confusion.
“What-” Wufan begins.
“Péngyou.”
Chanyeol is staring up at him with huge eyes, biting his lips anxiously as he repeats the word.
“Péngyou,” he repeats. He scrunches his eyebrows, struggling as he works his tongue to pronounce the syllables correctly. “Let’s be friends.”
Wufan finds that he does not have the heart to reply otherwise, and instead smiles warily at Chanyeol in return as he hisses under his breath, “What the hell.”
“You have your very own fangirl, Wufan,” Luhan snorts.
Yixing lunges across the table to prevent Wufan from flinging himself at the other boy.
---
The next few months pass relatively quickly for Wufan. That is, so much of his time is spent running away from Chanyeol that even practices that run into the early morning are found to be enjoyable. The younger boy makes a point to follow Wufan everywhere, grabbing the seat next to him during meals or waiting for him outside bathrooms. He even stands outside Wufan’s practice rooms, a poorly pronounced Mandarin phrase ready on his lips as soon as Wufan steps outside.
After the first few times Chanyeol tried to stalk him after rehearsals, Wufan thought that devoting most of his time to practice would prevent the far too often run-ins with the boy; he resorted to long hours in the studio and little breaks in storage closets to get a few minutes of peace. However, despite how hard he tries to make it otherwise, it would seem that the world wants to see him suffer a bit more.
“What’s wrong with him?” Luhan asks one evening when he returns from practice. Wufan is sprawled on the living room floor, pounding his head steadily into the wooden floor in heavy thunks that echo throughout the small apartment.
“Guess who’s in his rap class?” Yixing replies, a slow smile growing on his face.
“No way,” Luhan says, eyes lighting up. “Chanyeol?”
At Yixing’s nod, Luhan proceeds to laugh hysterically. He falls onto the floor, prodding Wufan with his thin fingers until the latter turns to glare at him.
“This is just too good,” Luhan says, laughter slowly dying down into occasional chuckles.
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Wufan says, groaning deeply. “I just want to live my life quietly, with no stalkers, until I’m famous. Is that really too much to ask for?”
“You can always pretend you don’t understand what he’s saying,” Luhan rolls his eyes.
“No, he’s learning too quickly,” Yixing speaks up. “Wufan’s Korean is almost as good as mine now.”
Wufan wants to sob. This has to be the first time in his life that hard work has led to nothing but distress, a growing irritation in the form of one Park Chanyeol. The boy’s determination to befriend Wufan seems to only increase with each day, his efforts nearly doubling now that he knows Wufan can understand him better.
“At least the other trainees stopped picking on you,” Yixing says. Luhan hums in agreement.
It is true. The number of pranks and missing articles of clothing had decreased in the past month. Wufan wasn’t too sure why they had stopped, but he wasn’t going to complain by any means. If he managed to retain all his personal items by the time he returned to his locker at the end of the day, Wufan considered himself blessed to some degree.
“I thought Chanyeol was training to be a model or something?” Yixing muses as he joins the pair on the floor. “Why is he taking rap classes?”
“That short kid?” Wufan snorts, looking up from the floor. He recalls Chanyeol’s frizzy hair, the wide stretch of his mouth when he smiles too much, the little legs that trail after him, and almost laughs. “He can’t be a model. You actually have to be tall to do that kind of thing.”
“He’s still young though,” Yixing shrugs, “You never know. He might have a growth spurt or something.”
“Aw, but he looks so cute right now,” Luhan whines in protest. “Chanyeol with his short legs, chasing after Wufan everywhere- he’s like a lost puppy.”
“I should have never accepted that umbrella from him,” Wufan sighs, pressing his face back onto the floor. He turns to glare at Luhan. “Besides, if you think he’s so cute, why don’t you take him?”
“He’s already got Sehun and Joonmyun. I think Luhan has enough boys trailing after him for now,” Yixing smirks. His grin grows wider, dimple becoming prominent, as Luhan stammers.
“And what about Jongin?” Luhan retorts hotly. “You guys are always together-”
“We dance.”
“So do Sehun and I. And Joonmyun.”
“That’s called a threesome, you idiot.”
Wufan watches his two roommates bicker, grimacing as the light-hearted teasing escalates into loud shrieks of embarrassment and pillows being flung at one another. He groans, burying his head into his arms, desperately wishing he had better friends, wishing he had never met Chanyeol that one rainy day, and wishing that his life would be just the slightest bit better.
---
Life doesn’t get better.
The rainy season soon ends, replaced with pellets of ice that pile into dirty snow on the streets. With the new weather comes huddled nights in multiple layers, boiling multiple pots of water for lukewarm baths, and steaming cups of herbal tea. Still, Wufan takes all of this in stride because he believes in suffering. He believes that the late nights and early mornings, the repetition of practicepracticepractice, the pain in waiting, will one day pay off.
But even suffering has its limits.
“Where are you going?”
Wufan stares at the small pile of luggage that occupies the foyer, small duffle bags zipped precariously with multiple tags wrapped around the handles. Yixing barely glances at him as he rushes throughout the apartment, teeth worrying his lip as he searches through drawers and shelves.
“Have you seen my passport?” Yixing asks. He slams the living room cabinet in frustration before dashing away.
“You’re going back home?” Wufan follows him into the kitchen.
“For the new year,” Yixing answers quickly. He rifles through the drawers, growing annoyance evident on his soft features. He hesitates, glancing quickly at Wufan, before searching in the refrigerator.
“How did you get vacation days?” Wufan asks. He nearly chokes when Yixing triumphantly pulls out his passport from the fridge.
“It’s just a few days,” he replies. “Barely a vacation.”
“And you need all that luggage?” Wufan nods back towards the foyer.
“Ah, yeah,” Yixing sheepishly rubs his neck. “Luhan is leaving as well. So you’ll be by yourself.”
Wufan pauses. “Oh. Cool.”
“If you need anything-”
“No, go have fun.” He smiles a bit, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “You haven’t visited your family in a while.”
“Neither have you,” Yixing says, raising an eyebrow.
“Canada is a bit further away than Changsha.”
“You can come with me.”
“I would rather dye my eyebrows,” Wufan grunts, playfully nudging Yixing on the shoulder. “Like you said, it’s a few days. I’ll survive so just go enjoy yourself.”
Yixing stares at him for a while longer, something akin to pity and sadness in his deep eyes, before he reaches for his bags. “Luhan and I will be back soon then.”
“Please sabotage Luhan’s ticket so that he’s trapped in Beijing.”
There’s soft laughter, and Yixing gives him one last wave before he’s out the door. It’s only when the lock is latched, the curtains pulled over the windows, and he’s certain that no one will come back, that Wufan goes into his room and pulls out a cell phone. His fingers tremble as he punches in the numbers, voice cracking as he asks the operator for an international call. The bright screen of the phone flashes before there’s a click and then it’s the sound of ringing.
His breath catches, each ring bringing him closer to the reason why he’s still here as well as the one excuse that will make him drop everything and rush onto the next plane out of Korea and back home. There’s a click as the line connects and a tender voice rushes into his ears.
“Hello?”
Wufan hangs up.
---
There’s a disturbing silence that fills recording studios in the late evenings. With only the hallway lights filtering into the room and the hum of the aircon lightly shaking the walls, the stillness is unbearable. The tears from previous recordings, the many dreams that have either come true or shattered on these floors, the harsh pants that rattle every trainee’s chest with each note and beat- Wufan feels as if he’s suffocating in the darkness.
“I didn’t know the company stays open on holidays.”
Wufan looks up to see Chanyeol standing at the door. Upon hearing Wufan’s groan, the smaller boy gives him a hesitant grin before carefully inching his way into the room. His baggy pants scratch across the carpeted floor as he settles next to Wufan.
“Chocolate?”
Wufan eyes the box of Peppero sticks Chanyeol waves in his face. He’s about to shake his head when sneakily Chanyeol sticks one between his lips, giggling at Wufan’s surprised expression.
“Aren’t you going home?” he asks, sticking a piece of chocolate in his own mouth.
“Too far,” Wufan shrugs. There’s an acrid taste building in the back of his mouth, and he reaches for another Peppero stick.
“China?”
“Canada,” Wufan says. He almost grins at Chanyeol’s perplexed look. “Some stalker you turned out to be.”
He speaks the last sentence in Mandarin, watching in amusement as Chanyeol scratches his head, trying to figure out the foreign words. The squint of Chanyeol’s eyes as he puffs his cheeks in frustration is almost cute.
“Did your roommates go back to China?”
Wufan nods, thinking of reunion dinners filled with pork dumplings and nian gao. There would be decorations adorning the walls with “happiness” and “fortune” scribbled everywhere, chatter would fill homes as gifts are exchanged. He thinks of the lanterns that would light the houses as greeting are called out and thinks of the red envelopes that would be placed into eager hands.
“You miss it, don’t you?” Chanyeol says gingerly. “Home.”
“Missing something doesn’t make it any better,” Wufan sighs. He tilts his head back until it touches the walls, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries not to think about what has been left behind.
“You know, my family really likes having guests. They’re always saying I don’t invite people over enough, but it’s not like I don’t have friends or anything. I have a lot of them, I think,” Chanyeol says. “So what I’m trying to say is-”
He gulps nervously when Wufan glances over at him.
“Want to come to my house for New Year’s?” Chanyeol rushes to finish his words, a faint pink dusting his cheeks as he stares at his folded legs. “I mean, it’s not Canada, but my mom makes these amazing rice cakes and we play this traditional game I always win-”
“Sounds good.”
Wufan is as shocked as Chanyeol is with his answer. He doesn’t know what just compelled him to accept this offer, especially from the kid who’s been basically stalking him for nearly six months- man, Luhan would just eat this up- but the thought of sitting in an empty apartment for the next three days with nothing but the static of the TV and the occasional sounds of traffic- anything is better than that.
And besides, he can’t say no when Chanyeol is grinning at him so brightly like that.
---
Wufan quickly finds that Chanyeol’s easygoing nature must be a genetic trait. From the moment he enters the Park family's apartment, Wufan is welcomed graciously as he’s greeted by various family members. Chanyeol’s mother, a small-framed woman with soft features and wide eyes, gives Wufan a tight hug whereas Mr. Park immediately begins to rattle off any and all English that he knows, his strong voice and boisterous laughter shaking the apartment's thin walls.
"Oh my god, Chanyeol," his sister gapes when she joins them in the living room. "You were right. He is gorgeous."
Chanyeol's mother giggles quietly as the boy yells at his sister, jumping to cover her mouth as he blushes furiously. Wufan narrows his eyes at Chanyeol, wondering if maybe spending a few days in this kid's house was a bad idea.
"So exactly how much does your family know about me?" Wufan asks when they all leave.
"Just a little bit," Chanyeol sheepishly grins. "I like to talk about my friends, that's all."
He tugs Wufan further into the apartment, turning excitedly in front of a door that's plastered with music posters and large Hanja stickers that spell out his name. "This is my room," he says, leaning Wufan inside.
It's a decent sized place with pale blue walls and a large window that overlooks an alley way and little buildings that dot the horizon. There are more posters that hang on the walls, some of American rock bands, a few of TVXQ and Super Junior, and the occasional prints of aliens and spaceships. A few drumsticks and textbooks are scattered across various surfaces, and the space print bed sheets are wrinkled, stars and planets half-hanging off the edge.
"You can take the bed," Chanyeol says, rushing over to roughly fold the bed sheets. He pats the pillow as he beams up at Wufan.
"But it's your room."
"And you're the guest," Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I have a sleeping bag. And the floors are actually pretty comfortable."
“But-”
“Guest.”
For a little kid, Chanyeol likes to take control. He shoves Wufan’s suitcase onto the bed, giving him a firm look, before dragging him into the living room. They play videogames for a while afterwards, Chanyeol yelling triumphantly each time his Mario zooms past Wufan’s Princess Peach and Wufan shrieking in anger when he loses fourteen Tekken rounds in a row.
“Wow, you’re really bad,” Chanyeol says after winning consecutive games of Jenga, Monopoly, a few rounds of cards, and now, Hungry Hippos. “And all those games were American.”
“I’m from Canada,” Wufan huffs. He flicks a finger against Chanyeol’s forehead. “And you, shorty, respect your hyung.”
“How can I respect a hyung that’s so bad at everything?” Chanyeol gives him a teasing smile, eyes curving.
“There’s one thing I can do,” Wufan retorts. He grabs the cards from the table, shuffling through them idly as he tries to gain a feel for the thin plastic. Chanyeol gives an exasperated moan, kicking Wufan underneath the table.
“No more card games.”
Wufan only rolls his eyes, concentrating instead on the cards before him. It’s been awhile since he’s done this but hopefully all the years of practice will come back to him. He fans the deck in both hands and leans toward the younger. “Pick a card.”
“Hyung-”
“Just do it.”
Chanyeol decides to humor him, obediently reaching for a card. He looks at it quickly before returning it to the pile. “You’re never going to guess-”
“Ace of hearts.”
There’s a pause as Chanyeol stares at him carefully. “Lucky guess,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Again.”
Ten minutes later, Chanyeol is fully gaping at Wufan, mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised high on his small face. Wufan has managed to guess all his cards correctly and it’s now gotten to the point where he can determine the number before Chanyeol actually has the chance to read his chosen card.
“What sorcery are you performing?” Chanyeol hisses, flinging a card back at him as he shrinks away from Wufan. “Are you even human?”
“Magic,” Wufan smirks. “I’m not so bad, huh?”
Chanyeol only laughs, propping his chin on folded hands. “I always knew you were amazing,” he breathes. There’s awe in his voice with something else thinly veiled in his words that matches the sparkle in his eyes, and for a moment, Wufan can only stare.
“You’re one weird kid,” he eventually smiles.
---
Korean cuisine has never settled well with Wufan’s stomach. It’s not that the food is bad; the broths and side dishes drenched in oils and salts taste every bit as wonderful as they look. But when he realizes that the flavors are never quite as rich nor warm as those of his mother’s cooking, there’s a sour aftertaste of discontent and loneliness that settles uncomfortably within him. Most nights, he chooses to go to sleep with an empty stomach.
Chanyeol’s mother seems to understand this when he enters the dining room with apprehension. Without a word, she sets a large bowl of rice before him, placing him large pieces of marinated meat and vegetables on his plate. “For Chanyeol’s good friend,” she says softly.
Meals with the Park family are filled with a ridiculous amount of noise. There’s the clatter of dishes and chopsticks sliding across plates, the sounds of loud slurps and chewing, and a continuous stream of banter between the two Park siblings.
“You’re going to have to give up all this food when you debut,” his sister teases Chanyeol as she steals a piece of meat from his plate. “But don’t worry, I’ll help you by eating your shares.”
Wufan chuckles quietly under his breath, watching Chanyeol swat at his sister’s arm while their father only shakes his head, a soft smile on his face.
“You’ll have to sneak out every so often so that I can buy you decent food. And don’t forget to bring your group members as well,” his father says. He meets Wufan’s eyes and gives him a quick wink.
“Wufan and I are going to debut together,” Chanyeol beams excitedly before turning to the elder. “And you’ll come back home with me during breaks again, right?”
“Of course! He has to come back to see me,” his sister jumps in, flashing Wufan a cheeky grin.
“Wufan is mine!” Chanyeol yells. He bites his lip after the words leave his mouth, glancing nervously over at him.
“Poor Wufan. I bet you harassed him to be your friend, right?” His sister sticks her tongue out as Chanyeol sputters in protest, but not before she shoots Wufan a knowing smile. “Don’t tell me you followed him even to the bathrooms.”
They continue to bicker back and forth for a few more minutes, his father occasionally joining in to tease Chanyeol, much to the boy’s dismay. Chanyeol’s voice escalates with hysteria until his sister shuts him up by shoving pieces of meat into his mouth, only to rub his hair with a fond look. Wufan is watching all of this silently when he feels a small hand touch his own; he looks over to see Chanyeol’s mother smiling gently at him.
“My son,” she says, nodding over to where Chanyeol is for some reason making bird calls, “is a bit odd, but the boy is a good child.”
Wufan thinks of teeth that are too large and too bright, of Chanyeol trailing behind him at every opportunity, of obnoxious laughter that hurts Wufan’s ears. But he also thinks of excited grins, blue penguin umbrellas, and a boy’s determination to learn Chinese just so that he can communicate with one trainee he happened to meet on a rainy day.
“Chanyeol is pretty odd,” Wufan agrees. His eyes shift over to see the boy laughing hysterically at some joke, hands slapping his knees with every shake of the shoulders. Wufan feels his lips curl upwards. “But I’m beginning to think it’s better that way.”
There’s a strong squeeze on Wufan’s hand and Chanyeol’s mother chuckles gratefully. She’s piling more meat onto Wufan’s plate when Chanyeol glances over, flashing him a smile so wide that his eyes disappear into little curves above his round cheeks.
For the first time since Wufan has moved to Korea, the food tastes like home.
---
The next few days are spent doing exactly what the company told them not to do- eating and sleeping at every opportunity. The morning starts with burnt pancakes and poorly cut fruit (“Just because I’m Canadian doesn’t mean I know how to make pancakes!” Wufan shouts in defense when Chanyeol gives him an exasperated look), and ends with a nap on the living room, both of their faces streaked with batter. Chanyeol later gives Wufan a tour of his town, buying sweets from stands and stopping by cafes, all the while pointing out the oil refineries and automobile plants that litter the edge of the city.
“It’s not much, but I like this place,” Chanyeol says. They’re sitting in a nearby park, watching the dark smoke of the plants flit lightly over the skyline. A cold breeze blows through the trees and Chanyeol breathes deeply. “It’s home.”
Wufan closes his eyes. For some people, people like Sehun and Jongin, people like Chanyeol, going home is easy. For them, it’s a short ride across the city before they’re back in loving arms, surrounded by the smell and sight of what’s familiar. And for others, like Yixing and Luhan, distance is but a number when the answer to their dreams is right within their grasp. But for certain people, confused and naive people like Wufan, home is sometimes so far away that all he sees are the number of miles that separate him and his family, and dreams no longer seem like a good enough reason for all those lonely nights when he can’t even pick up the phone in fear he’ll jump on the next plane back to Canada.
“Must be pretty hard, huh?” Chanyeol speaks softly. For once, there’s no smile on his face as he stares at Wufan. “Leaving behind everything.”
“It’s what needs to be done,” Wufan replies. “As long as I have a reason to keep going, it isn’t too bad.”
They sit in silence for a few moments longer, the occasional sounds of traffic and loud clangs of machinery reaching their ears as the sun sets in the distance. It’s when the sky is lit up in dark pinks and greys, the pale moon starting to peek through the trees, that Chanyeol finally speaks again.
“You have me now,” he says. There are slight trembles in his voice, and his lips are turned up in a nervous smile when he faces Wufan. “So, don’t go back to Canada yet.”
Wufan is stunned into silence for a brief moment, eyebrows lifting when he sees Chanyeol turn a bright red as he fiddles with his jacket zipper.
“You are one bizarre kid,” Wufan eventually replies, letting out a small chuckle. “From day one, you were a special guy.”
“I bet you thought I was really weird,” Chanyeol grins wryly.
“Well...”
“I mean, I followed you everywhere.”
“...yeah.”
“I even bribed this one kid so that I could have the locker next to you.”
“Wait, what?”
“Then there was that time I followed you back to your apartment but I didn’t know where the train station was so I sat outside your place for like an hour before Yixing finally showed up-”
“Just. Stop.”
Chanyeol chews on his lip as he looks up at Wufan.
“Do you still think I’m weird?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“But it’s okay.” Wufan pauses to clear his throat. “Because I like you that way.”
“Oh.”
And Chanyeol’s beaming again, nose wrinkled and eyes squinted as his lips part into a dazzling smile. Wufan can’t look away.
---
“I don’t know why I was even worried about you.”
Yixing smirks at Wufan, his eyes twinkling knowingly as he watches the elder check his phone. Wufan laughs at something he reads before texting back excitedly.
“Should I even ask what happened over break?”
Wufan ignores the latter, flipping his phone shut with a sly smile before going back to eating his lunch. Yixing barely has the time to feel offended when Luhan runs over, slamming his tray onto the table as he gives Wufan an accusatory stare.
“You got laid over break, didn’t you?” Luhan asks. Yixing snorts, a loud chuckle escaping him as Wufan turns red.
“I honestly need to find better friends,” Wufan mutters.
“Yeah, good luck with that. Yixing and I are the only people willing to stand your bitchy face.”
“Leave him alone,” Yixing laughs, leaning over to pat Wufan’s shoulder gently. “How was break with Chanyeol?”
Wufan sputters, wondering how Yixing always seems to know everything, while Luhan screeches loudly.
“Wait, you spent break with Chanyeol, that kid who stalks you? That ‘tigers-get-married-on-rainy-days’ kid?”
“It’s no big deal. I just went over to his house-”
“Tell me,” Luhan leers, smile dangerously tipping at the corners as he leans forward. “Is he absolutely feral in bed?”
Wufan nearly flips his tray as he jumps up, hands stretched towards Luhan’s face. Yixing tugs him back, screaming about “We need his face to debut!” while Luhan cackles triumphantly, pounding the table with glee.
“Is everything okay?”
Chanyeol stands next to their table, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he takes in the sight of a furious, red-faced Wufan being held back by a frazzled Yixing. Luhan smiles innocently, motioning for Chanyeol to sit down next to them.
“Join us,” he says sweetly. Wufan thinks of demonic angels and all the things that are wrong with the world.
“Actually, I wanted to talk with Wufan hyung,” Chanyeol says, staring at his sneakers. “Alone.”
Yixing covers Luhan’s mouth quickly, silencing whatever snarky comment the male was about to say, before giving Chanyeol a smile. Nodding at Wufan, Yixing drags Luhan away.
“Luhan hyung is a bit weird,” Chanyeol comments as he sits down. Wufan snorts.
“Believe it or not, I think he might be more bizarre than you are.”
Chanyeol’s laugh is loud, but Wufan catches the small breaks in his voice along with the hesitant looks Chanyeol sends his way every now and then. The younger’s hand are clutching tightly at his sleeves, smile stretched almost painfully across his face, and Wufan slowly reaches over to him.
“Hey, are you-”
“I’m going away for a while,” Chanyeol suddenly blurts out. Wufan withdraws his hand. “There’s this acting academy or something and I got in so....yeah.”
When Chanyeol looks up at him with confused eyes, Wufan can only look down at his food, swallowing the lump in his throat. Chanyeol is staring at him like he wants Wufan to say something, to do something. But how can he when he doesn’t even know what’s happening right now, doesn’t know why his chest feels tight or why he finds that he can’t be happy for Chanyeol. Wufan breathes slowly, wishing he could say the right words to fill the awkward silence between them.
“I’m not quite sure what I want to do with my life yet. I mean, entertainment stuff obviously but I figured I should explore all my options-”
“That’s great,” Wufan hastily says. He stirs the rice on his plate, trying to stop the way his hands are trembling.
“So, you’ll wait for me, right?”
Wufan looks up to see Chanyeol staring at him, eyes wide and serious as he speaks carefully.
“You won’t debut without me. Right?”
There’s a pause.
“Park Chanyeol,” Wufan sighs, chuckling softly. “You are one weird kid.”
---
When Wufan hears about this M1, M2 deal that Lee Soo Man decided to let loose at a goddamn seminar of all places, he wonders if Chanyeol has figured out his life yet.
It’s been nearly half a year since the younger had left for some academy at the border of Seoul, and other than the occasional text messages and rare video chats, Wufan has no idea how Chanyeol is doing. Wufan himself determined that rap and modeling seem like good options (“Your legs are trees, hyung,” Sehun deadpans. “You’re a model whether you want to be or not.”) but ultimately found that dancing is something he should try to avoid. Chanyeol had laughed loudly at this, and only shrugged when asked about his own future. (“I guess I should just model with you or something,” he murmurs, and Wufan is glad that the darkness of his apartment successfully covers the blush that spreads across his cheeks.)
“Missing your other half?” Jongin used to joke when Chanyeol first left. Luhan would then start cracking up, making lewd expressions in Wufan’s direction while the latter did his best not to throw something at the male’s face.
But with every passing day, and sometimes weeks would pass before Chanyeol responded to his messages, Wufan would sometimes feel an unexplainable loneliness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long while. Luhan eventually stopped his jeering when he saw the dark circles under Wufan’s eyes, the gauntness of his cheekbones when rehearsals ran too long, and Yixing found himself making too many cups of tea for Wufan late in the night.
“Maybe he found something else,” Yixing had said softly one night when Wufan had stared at his monitor for too long. The light had burned into his eyes, but he barely registered the pain because it wasn’t nearly as blinding as Chanyeol’s smile.
“No, he promised,” Wufan replied. “He’ll be back.”
“Don’t get famous without me,” Chanyeol would always say at the end of their phone calls. And Wufan would always rolls his eyes in return, humming in agreement as a soft smile spread across his face. Because they did promise to debut together, after all, and Wufan is not one to go back on his promises, no matter how long he has to wait.
The company is buzzing with speculation and guesses as to who will be in the new group, and even the usually dazed Yixing hangs on to every rumor and whisper that goes on between the staff and the trainees. Wufan soon finds that he tires of all the talk, of uncertainties that won’t even matter if Chanyeol isn’t there with him. He only gives Yixing an encouraging smile before leaving practice early.
It’s raining heavily when he reaches the front door; a small bit of sun barely peeks through the grey clouds and the streets are painted in wet streaks. He’s moving to adjust his hoodie when Wufan spots someone standing near the entrance. Opening his umbrella, blue with Pororo print and a pink keychain, Wufan holds it out to the person.
“Here, you can borrow my umbrella-”
“Hyung.”
Wufan sucks in his breath. This person is far too tall to be Chanyeol, nearly the same height as Wufan himself, and his hair is dyed a lighter color, twisting at the edges in soft curls. Even his voice is different, a deep rumble with rough edges unlike the high-pitched laughter Chanyeol is known for. But underneath the boy’s bangs are wide eyes that light excitedly and a huge smile that curls into a pleased grin as he stares at Wufan. And there’s a familiar laugh that, while too low, holds the same amount of eagerness and crazy Wufan remembers all too clearly. He feels his heart thud almost painfully against his chest.
“Chanyeol,” he breathes.
“You waited for me, hyung.”
---
Wufan later finds that Yixing, Luhan, and Jongin all knew Chanyeol was coming back that day.
“But where’s the fun in telling you,” Luhan smirks. “Surprises are more fun.”
At least Yixing has the decency to look somewhat apologetic and Wufan considers letting this slide because Chanyeol is back and-
“Besides, we got all these adorable pictures of Wufan blushing!”
Luhan runs down the halls screaming, an equally terrified Yixing and Jongin following closely behind. There’s a nun chuck in Wufan’s hand, borrowed from some new trainee named Zitao or another, and he doesn’t know how to use it but he figures it causes pain and that’s good enough for him. He chases after the three screaming boys, Chanyeol’s hand clutched tightly in his own.
---
Pairing: Kris/Chanyeol
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,394
A/N: Entry for SNCJ Reverse Big Bang. The entry is locked in the comm so here is a repost.
---
The world has a vendetta against him.
Wufan is sure of this. When he had first moved to Korea, following a short audition that promised him dreams come true and fame beyond his imaginations, Wufan knew the journey would probably be the most difficult of his life. Leaving his family behind, resorting to late night ramen runs because he doesn’t have enough money, learning a language where the syllables are too round and the words are too foreign- he had prepared himself for all that. But now it’s just getting ridiculous.
His locker has been vandalized for the third time this month and among the various stolen items is a black umbrella. Usually Wufan would brush off the immature jokes of fellow trainees, but the fact that there is a fucking monsoon blowing outside makes this day the worst in a long while. He just wants to crawl back to the dorms, drink some of Yixing’s herbal tea, and pretend that the world doesn’t exist for a few hours. Too bad he’s stuck in the company lobby, watching as a torrent of rain water falls from the skies.
Wufan continues to glare at the world when someone shouts in his ear. He jumps in surprise, turning around quickly to receive a face full of hair. Sputtering a bit, he steps back to see large brown eyes and a wide mouth beaming up at him. A boy, a few years younger and many inches shorter, stands right behind him. He has light brown hair that falls messily around his face and large ears that hang almost comically next to a round face.
“Can I help you?”
It’s one of the few phrases Wufan knows how to pronounce correctly in Korean, and he hopes it’s enough. The boy’s smile stretches wider before he talks loudly, hands flying dangerously close to Wufan’s face as he gestures wildly at the rain outside. Wufan thinks he catches “tiger” and “sunshine” in between flashes of bright teeth. What the hell.
“Sorry,” Wufan tries. He gives a small shrug when the boy tries to speak again. “No speak the Korean.”
The boy’s mouth droops down, teeth biting into his lips as he rubs his hair. Wufan would think the action to be endearing if he didn’t already have a massive headache pounding at the back of his skull. Offering a small wave instead, Wufan turns, ready to brave the downpour, when thin fingers grasp his wrist.
“What-”
He looks down to see a small blue umbrella shoved into his hand. Little penguins are printed along the polyester fabric and there’s a pink bear keychain hanging from the handle. By the time Wufan glances up again, the boy has already run outside. Wet hair plastered to his face and a ridiculously huge grin spread across his small face, he turns for a final wave before disappearing into the rain.
---
“I didn’t realize you had such...interesting tastes,” Luhan comments when Wufan finally manages to get back home. His shoes are soaked through and his jeans cling tightly like a second skin. At least his shirt and backpack are somewhat dry.
“Not mine,” he grunts, shaking the rain water off his hoodie.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” Luhan says. There’s an amused grin on his face as he reaches for the small umbrella. “It’s kind of cute. Quite unlike yourself.”
“Fuck you,” Wufan mutters. Luhan raises an eyebrow at the unfamiliar words.
“Yixing!” he shouts, dropping the umbrella on Wufan’s foot. “Wufan is cursing at me in English again!”
“No English! Only Mandarin in this house!” Yixing shouts from further inside the apartment. When Luhan turns to give him a cheeky grin, Wufan doesn’t hesitate to throw his wet shoe at the latter’s head. He relishes the high-pitched shriek Luhan lets out as he dashes away.
“How are you older than me?” Wufan snickers.
“How are both of you older than me?” Yixing deadpans as he enters the foyer, where Luhan runs to hide behind his back. Yixing groans as he looks at the growing puddles that surround Wufan. “I just cleaned the apartment today.”
“Not my fault,” Wufan replies, giving an apologetic shrug. “Have you even seen the weather outside?”
Yixing only sighs before he eyes the umbrella. “Interesting.”
“It’s an umbrella,” Wufan huffs. “You two need to get over it.”
“But it’s for children,” Luhan says, his voice nearly a soft coo. He reaches for the umbrella again, brushing a finger against the penguins that decorate the fabric, and then flicks some water onto Wufan’s face. “What are you, like secretly a pedophile or something?”
“How was practice?” Yixing quickly says, stepping in between the two boys before they attack one another. Wufan glares around him at Luhan before slowly shifting his gaze back.
“All right,” he replies. “Some kids stole my stuff which is why-”
“Again?” Yixing’s lips are curled down displeasingly. “Isn’t this already the fifth time?”
“You know how it is. We’re foreign trainees.” Wufan makes his way down the hall to the bathroom, scattering raindrops along the way as he ruffles his hair.
“I get along with them just fine,” Luhan says. He yells loudly when Yixing slaps whacks him on the shoulder.
“Yeah, well some of us aren’t born with baby faces,” Wufan retorts, looking at him pointedly. He purposely reaches for Luhan’s towel and proceeds to dry his hair.
“It gets easier,” Yixing says gently. “Just find some Korean kid to hang out with and they’ll leave you alone.”
“Yeah right,” Wufan snorts. “I have a better chance of jumping off a rooftop and flying.”
Yixing only gives a soft laugh, offering him another towel. “Oh, you never know.”
---
The monsoon turns into a light drizzle by the next morning. The streets of Seoul are murky under the cloudy sky and there’s a stench of gasoline and smoke that hangs in the air. Wufan takes in all of this with a grim face as he heads for rehearsals.
He misses the fresh air and tall trees that fill his home back in Canada and longs for his mother’s warm Cantonese words mixed with the loud shouts of his friends. The familiar rap music that blasts through his headphones does little to quell the homesickness that burns in his chest. He continues to trudge through the streets, passing by sounds and sights that only increase his loneliness.
“And here’s to another day,” he sighs when he spots the familiar company logo. Breathing deeply, he steps inside.
Luhan is chatting animatedly with some lanky Korean kid with pale skin when Wufan enters the practice room. Yixing only gives a small shrug when he asks about the boy, and instead drags Wufan down on the floor to do their stretches. His muscles still burn after yesterday’s practice but he humors Yixing for a while, half-heartedly touching his toes for a bit before he opts to lie on the hard floors instead.
The dance instructor is five minutes late, and Wufan is contemplating a nap on the hard, dirty practice room floors, when he notices a familiar round face passes by the room. Wufan quickly rifles through his bag before he grabs Luhan's arm and drags him out the room, ignoring the elder’s noisy complaints as they run down the hall. They eventually catch up to the boy from yesterday and Wufan awkwardly thrusts the umbrella towards him.
"Thanks," he mumbles. The Korean word sounds rough on his tongue, unfamiliar no matter how many times he's practiced it, and he thinks he can hear Luhan laugh quietly under his breath.
The kid smiles and takes the umbrella from him, rough fingers brushing against Wufan's palm, as he begins to talk rapidly. Luhan listens for a while; there’s an amused expression on his face when he turns to Wufan.
"Apparently, he tried to tell you yesterday that tigers get married when the sun shines while it's raining."
Wufan blinks at him, trying his best not to frown. "The actual fuck?"
"Like I would know any better," Luhan says. "I think it's a Korean fable or something."
Wufan groans quietly because he really doesn't have time for Korean fables right now. The dance instructor is coming down the hall and he sees Yixing waving urgently at them to come back. The boy follows Wufan's gaze, eyes widening as he notices the instructor. He says something to Luhan in hasty syllables, flashing Wufan a blinding smile, before he runs down the hall.
"He invited us to lunch," Luhan says as they're walking back. "Well, it was more like he invited you-"
"Who was that guy?" Yixing joins them. He sees Luhan's sly grin and eagerly looks to Wufan.
"Wufan's crush," Luhan replies, snickering obnoxiously.
"No. He's just some kid," Wufan says, pushing away Luhan's leering face. "I don't even know what he's saying half the time."
"Language cannot come between those whom you truly love," Luhan dramatically sighs, clutching at his chest as he leans onto Yixing.
"I will cut you-"
"Well, he seems kind of cute," Yixing tries. "At least humor the kid and eat lunch with him."
Wufan snorts, turning away from the pair.
"Hey, you could use a Korean friend around here," Yixing says quietly. The dance instructor begins the count, demonstrating some new moves, and Wufan sighs when he sees how complex the routine is.
"I don't need a Korean anybody," Wufan replies. He watches with envy as Yixing flawlessly copies the instructor, limbs moving smoothly in ways that Wufan knows he can never achieve.
"It won't always just be us. Besides, maybe the other trainees will stop picking on you."
"I don't need-"
"How many sweatshirts and bags have you 'lost' already?" Luhan jumps in. He nudges Wufan lightly on the shoulder but there's concern in those playful eyes. "Come on. It's one meal, Wufan."
The instructor shouts at the trio to pay attention, eyeing Wufan in particular, before he resumes his teaching. Wufan fumbles as he tries to will his limbs to bend in a way that might remotely resemble dancing. How the hell is he supposed to pop his chest out like that, and dear god, are the instructor’s hips double jointed or something...
"Fine," Wufan gives in at the end of practice. He's soaking in sweat, wet strands of hair hanging over his eyes and shallow breaths coming out in uneven pants. "But you guys have to come with me."
---
The cafeteria in SM is probably the number one reason why Wufan comes back to the company day after day. Achieving dreams is great and all, but the warm, freshly prepared food is something more tangible that he can reward himself with after a long practice. Wufan eagerly heads for the cafeteria lines, scanning through the day’s specials.
“Why am I coming with you guys again?” Yixing asks. He eyes a plate of dukbokki before reaching for the salad.
“Because I can’t speak Korean,” Wufan replies, grabbing multiple dishes. He hesitates briefly and then adds a box of cookies. “And I don’t trust Luhan.”
The said boy is already seated at a table, chatting excitedly with a few kids from their dance class, when he spots the pair and waves them over. Wufan barely has time to squeeze into a plastic seat before Luhan begins to introduce people.
“This is Sehun,” he says in slow Korean, nudging the pale boy that sits next to him. Wufan tries not to smirk when he sees the Korean boy blush at Luhan’s touch.
The tan kid with sleepy eyes leaning on Yixing is Jongin, a prodigy who’s supposed to debut soon, and another pale boy, but more mature and with a ridiculously gorgeous smile, introduces himself as Joonmyun. He tries to say hello in Mandarin, but the stilted words and awkward pronunciation only cause Wufan to chuckle lightly as he offers the other a grateful nod.
“And this,” Luhan smiles a little too happily as he points to someone next to Wufan, “this is Chanyeol.”
Wufan turns to see Umbrella Boy beaming up at him, teeth shining brightly as he speaks in a rapid succession of words. Seeing the look of confusion on Wufan’s face, Chanyeol looks pointedly at Luhan.
“What is he saying?” Wufan asks. He then notices how Chanyeol seems to be attached to his side and discreetly attempts to inch away from the boy.
“He thinks you’re very handsome up close,” Luhan snickers. Yixing catches his words and laughs loudly, causing Jongin to look up in confusion.
“What-” Wufan begins.
“Péngyou.”
Chanyeol is staring up at him with huge eyes, biting his lips anxiously as he repeats the word.
“Péngyou,” he repeats. He scrunches his eyebrows, struggling as he works his tongue to pronounce the syllables correctly. “Let’s be friends.”
Wufan finds that he does not have the heart to reply otherwise, and instead smiles warily at Chanyeol in return as he hisses under his breath, “What the hell.”
“You have your very own fangirl, Wufan,” Luhan snorts.
Yixing lunges across the table to prevent Wufan from flinging himself at the other boy.
---
The next few months pass relatively quickly for Wufan. That is, so much of his time is spent running away from Chanyeol that even practices that run into the early morning are found to be enjoyable. The younger boy makes a point to follow Wufan everywhere, grabbing the seat next to him during meals or waiting for him outside bathrooms. He even stands outside Wufan’s practice rooms, a poorly pronounced Mandarin phrase ready on his lips as soon as Wufan steps outside.
After the first few times Chanyeol tried to stalk him after rehearsals, Wufan thought that devoting most of his time to practice would prevent the far too often run-ins with the boy; he resorted to long hours in the studio and little breaks in storage closets to get a few minutes of peace. However, despite how hard he tries to make it otherwise, it would seem that the world wants to see him suffer a bit more.
“What’s wrong with him?” Luhan asks one evening when he returns from practice. Wufan is sprawled on the living room floor, pounding his head steadily into the wooden floor in heavy thunks that echo throughout the small apartment.
“Guess who’s in his rap class?” Yixing replies, a slow smile growing on his face.
“No way,” Luhan says, eyes lighting up. “Chanyeol?”
At Yixing’s nod, Luhan proceeds to laugh hysterically. He falls onto the floor, prodding Wufan with his thin fingers until the latter turns to glare at him.
“This is just too good,” Luhan says, laughter slowly dying down into occasional chuckles.
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Wufan says, groaning deeply. “I just want to live my life quietly, with no stalkers, until I’m famous. Is that really too much to ask for?”
“You can always pretend you don’t understand what he’s saying,” Luhan rolls his eyes.
“No, he’s learning too quickly,” Yixing speaks up. “Wufan’s Korean is almost as good as mine now.”
Wufan wants to sob. This has to be the first time in his life that hard work has led to nothing but distress, a growing irritation in the form of one Park Chanyeol. The boy’s determination to befriend Wufan seems to only increase with each day, his efforts nearly doubling now that he knows Wufan can understand him better.
“At least the other trainees stopped picking on you,” Yixing says. Luhan hums in agreement.
It is true. The number of pranks and missing articles of clothing had decreased in the past month. Wufan wasn’t too sure why they had stopped, but he wasn’t going to complain by any means. If he managed to retain all his personal items by the time he returned to his locker at the end of the day, Wufan considered himself blessed to some degree.
“I thought Chanyeol was training to be a model or something?” Yixing muses as he joins the pair on the floor. “Why is he taking rap classes?”
“That short kid?” Wufan snorts, looking up from the floor. He recalls Chanyeol’s frizzy hair, the wide stretch of his mouth when he smiles too much, the little legs that trail after him, and almost laughs. “He can’t be a model. You actually have to be tall to do that kind of thing.”
“He’s still young though,” Yixing shrugs, “You never know. He might have a growth spurt or something.”
“Aw, but he looks so cute right now,” Luhan whines in protest. “Chanyeol with his short legs, chasing after Wufan everywhere- he’s like a lost puppy.”
“I should have never accepted that umbrella from him,” Wufan sighs, pressing his face back onto the floor. He turns to glare at Luhan. “Besides, if you think he’s so cute, why don’t you take him?”
“He’s already got Sehun and Joonmyun. I think Luhan has enough boys trailing after him for now,” Yixing smirks. His grin grows wider, dimple becoming prominent, as Luhan stammers.
“And what about Jongin?” Luhan retorts hotly. “You guys are always together-”
“We dance.”
“So do Sehun and I. And Joonmyun.”
“That’s called a threesome, you idiot.”
Wufan watches his two roommates bicker, grimacing as the light-hearted teasing escalates into loud shrieks of embarrassment and pillows being flung at one another. He groans, burying his head into his arms, desperately wishing he had better friends, wishing he had never met Chanyeol that one rainy day, and wishing that his life would be just the slightest bit better.
---
Life doesn’t get better.
The rainy season soon ends, replaced with pellets of ice that pile into dirty snow on the streets. With the new weather comes huddled nights in multiple layers, boiling multiple pots of water for lukewarm baths, and steaming cups of herbal tea. Still, Wufan takes all of this in stride because he believes in suffering. He believes that the late nights and early mornings, the repetition of practicepracticepractice, the pain in waiting, will one day pay off.
But even suffering has its limits.
“Where are you going?”
Wufan stares at the small pile of luggage that occupies the foyer, small duffle bags zipped precariously with multiple tags wrapped around the handles. Yixing barely glances at him as he rushes throughout the apartment, teeth worrying his lip as he searches through drawers and shelves.
“Have you seen my passport?” Yixing asks. He slams the living room cabinet in frustration before dashing away.
“You’re going back home?” Wufan follows him into the kitchen.
“For the new year,” Yixing answers quickly. He rifles through the drawers, growing annoyance evident on his soft features. He hesitates, glancing quickly at Wufan, before searching in the refrigerator.
“How did you get vacation days?” Wufan asks. He nearly chokes when Yixing triumphantly pulls out his passport from the fridge.
“It’s just a few days,” he replies. “Barely a vacation.”
“And you need all that luggage?” Wufan nods back towards the foyer.
“Ah, yeah,” Yixing sheepishly rubs his neck. “Luhan is leaving as well. So you’ll be by yourself.”
Wufan pauses. “Oh. Cool.”
“If you need anything-”
“No, go have fun.” He smiles a bit, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “You haven’t visited your family in a while.”
“Neither have you,” Yixing says, raising an eyebrow.
“Canada is a bit further away than Changsha.”
“You can come with me.”
“I would rather dye my eyebrows,” Wufan grunts, playfully nudging Yixing on the shoulder. “Like you said, it’s a few days. I’ll survive so just go enjoy yourself.”
Yixing stares at him for a while longer, something akin to pity and sadness in his deep eyes, before he reaches for his bags. “Luhan and I will be back soon then.”
“Please sabotage Luhan’s ticket so that he’s trapped in Beijing.”
There’s soft laughter, and Yixing gives him one last wave before he’s out the door. It’s only when the lock is latched, the curtains pulled over the windows, and he’s certain that no one will come back, that Wufan goes into his room and pulls out a cell phone. His fingers tremble as he punches in the numbers, voice cracking as he asks the operator for an international call. The bright screen of the phone flashes before there’s a click and then it’s the sound of ringing.
His breath catches, each ring bringing him closer to the reason why he’s still here as well as the one excuse that will make him drop everything and rush onto the next plane out of Korea and back home. There’s a click as the line connects and a tender voice rushes into his ears.
“Hello?”
Wufan hangs up.
---
There’s a disturbing silence that fills recording studios in the late evenings. With only the hallway lights filtering into the room and the hum of the aircon lightly shaking the walls, the stillness is unbearable. The tears from previous recordings, the many dreams that have either come true or shattered on these floors, the harsh pants that rattle every trainee’s chest with each note and beat- Wufan feels as if he’s suffocating in the darkness.
“I didn’t know the company stays open on holidays.”
Wufan looks up to see Chanyeol standing at the door. Upon hearing Wufan’s groan, the smaller boy gives him a hesitant grin before carefully inching his way into the room. His baggy pants scratch across the carpeted floor as he settles next to Wufan.
“Chocolate?”
Wufan eyes the box of Peppero sticks Chanyeol waves in his face. He’s about to shake his head when sneakily Chanyeol sticks one between his lips, giggling at Wufan’s surprised expression.
“Aren’t you going home?” he asks, sticking a piece of chocolate in his own mouth.
“Too far,” Wufan shrugs. There’s an acrid taste building in the back of his mouth, and he reaches for another Peppero stick.
“China?”
“Canada,” Wufan says. He almost grins at Chanyeol’s perplexed look. “Some stalker you turned out to be.”
He speaks the last sentence in Mandarin, watching in amusement as Chanyeol scratches his head, trying to figure out the foreign words. The squint of Chanyeol’s eyes as he puffs his cheeks in frustration is almost cute.
“Did your roommates go back to China?”
Wufan nods, thinking of reunion dinners filled with pork dumplings and nian gao. There would be decorations adorning the walls with “happiness” and “fortune” scribbled everywhere, chatter would fill homes as gifts are exchanged. He thinks of the lanterns that would light the houses as greeting are called out and thinks of the red envelopes that would be placed into eager hands.
“You miss it, don’t you?” Chanyeol says gingerly. “Home.”
“Missing something doesn’t make it any better,” Wufan sighs. He tilts his head back until it touches the walls, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries not to think about what has been left behind.
“You know, my family really likes having guests. They’re always saying I don’t invite people over enough, but it’s not like I don’t have friends or anything. I have a lot of them, I think,” Chanyeol says. “So what I’m trying to say is-”
He gulps nervously when Wufan glances over at him.
“Want to come to my house for New Year’s?” Chanyeol rushes to finish his words, a faint pink dusting his cheeks as he stares at his folded legs. “I mean, it’s not Canada, but my mom makes these amazing rice cakes and we play this traditional game I always win-”
“Sounds good.”
Wufan is as shocked as Chanyeol is with his answer. He doesn’t know what just compelled him to accept this offer, especially from the kid who’s been basically stalking him for nearly six months- man, Luhan would just eat this up- but the thought of sitting in an empty apartment for the next three days with nothing but the static of the TV and the occasional sounds of traffic- anything is better than that.
And besides, he can’t say no when Chanyeol is grinning at him so brightly like that.
---
Wufan quickly finds that Chanyeol’s easygoing nature must be a genetic trait. From the moment he enters the Park family's apartment, Wufan is welcomed graciously as he’s greeted by various family members. Chanyeol’s mother, a small-framed woman with soft features and wide eyes, gives Wufan a tight hug whereas Mr. Park immediately begins to rattle off any and all English that he knows, his strong voice and boisterous laughter shaking the apartment's thin walls.
"Oh my god, Chanyeol," his sister gapes when she joins them in the living room. "You were right. He is gorgeous."
Chanyeol's mother giggles quietly as the boy yells at his sister, jumping to cover her mouth as he blushes furiously. Wufan narrows his eyes at Chanyeol, wondering if maybe spending a few days in this kid's house was a bad idea.
"So exactly how much does your family know about me?" Wufan asks when they all leave.
"Just a little bit," Chanyeol sheepishly grins. "I like to talk about my friends, that's all."
He tugs Wufan further into the apartment, turning excitedly in front of a door that's plastered with music posters and large Hanja stickers that spell out his name. "This is my room," he says, leaning Wufan inside.
It's a decent sized place with pale blue walls and a large window that overlooks an alley way and little buildings that dot the horizon. There are more posters that hang on the walls, some of American rock bands, a few of TVXQ and Super Junior, and the occasional prints of aliens and spaceships. A few drumsticks and textbooks are scattered across various surfaces, and the space print bed sheets are wrinkled, stars and planets half-hanging off the edge.
"You can take the bed," Chanyeol says, rushing over to roughly fold the bed sheets. He pats the pillow as he beams up at Wufan.
"But it's your room."
"And you're the guest," Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I have a sleeping bag. And the floors are actually pretty comfortable."
“But-”
“Guest.”
For a little kid, Chanyeol likes to take control. He shoves Wufan’s suitcase onto the bed, giving him a firm look, before dragging him into the living room. They play videogames for a while afterwards, Chanyeol yelling triumphantly each time his Mario zooms past Wufan’s Princess Peach and Wufan shrieking in anger when he loses fourteen Tekken rounds in a row.
“Wow, you’re really bad,” Chanyeol says after winning consecutive games of Jenga, Monopoly, a few rounds of cards, and now, Hungry Hippos. “And all those games were American.”
“I’m from Canada,” Wufan huffs. He flicks a finger against Chanyeol’s forehead. “And you, shorty, respect your hyung.”
“How can I respect a hyung that’s so bad at everything?” Chanyeol gives him a teasing smile, eyes curving.
“There’s one thing I can do,” Wufan retorts. He grabs the cards from the table, shuffling through them idly as he tries to gain a feel for the thin plastic. Chanyeol gives an exasperated moan, kicking Wufan underneath the table.
“No more card games.”
Wufan only rolls his eyes, concentrating instead on the cards before him. It’s been awhile since he’s done this but hopefully all the years of practice will come back to him. He fans the deck in both hands and leans toward the younger. “Pick a card.”
“Hyung-”
“Just do it.”
Chanyeol decides to humor him, obediently reaching for a card. He looks at it quickly before returning it to the pile. “You’re never going to guess-”
“Ace of hearts.”
There’s a pause as Chanyeol stares at him carefully. “Lucky guess,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Again.”
Ten minutes later, Chanyeol is fully gaping at Wufan, mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised high on his small face. Wufan has managed to guess all his cards correctly and it’s now gotten to the point where he can determine the number before Chanyeol actually has the chance to read his chosen card.
“What sorcery are you performing?” Chanyeol hisses, flinging a card back at him as he shrinks away from Wufan. “Are you even human?”
“Magic,” Wufan smirks. “I’m not so bad, huh?”
Chanyeol only laughs, propping his chin on folded hands. “I always knew you were amazing,” he breathes. There’s awe in his voice with something else thinly veiled in his words that matches the sparkle in his eyes, and for a moment, Wufan can only stare.
“You’re one weird kid,” he eventually smiles.
---
Korean cuisine has never settled well with Wufan’s stomach. It’s not that the food is bad; the broths and side dishes drenched in oils and salts taste every bit as wonderful as they look. But when he realizes that the flavors are never quite as rich nor warm as those of his mother’s cooking, there’s a sour aftertaste of discontent and loneliness that settles uncomfortably within him. Most nights, he chooses to go to sleep with an empty stomach.
Chanyeol’s mother seems to understand this when he enters the dining room with apprehension. Without a word, she sets a large bowl of rice before him, placing him large pieces of marinated meat and vegetables on his plate. “For Chanyeol’s good friend,” she says softly.
Meals with the Park family are filled with a ridiculous amount of noise. There’s the clatter of dishes and chopsticks sliding across plates, the sounds of loud slurps and chewing, and a continuous stream of banter between the two Park siblings.
“You’re going to have to give up all this food when you debut,” his sister teases Chanyeol as she steals a piece of meat from his plate. “But don’t worry, I’ll help you by eating your shares.”
Wufan chuckles quietly under his breath, watching Chanyeol swat at his sister’s arm while their father only shakes his head, a soft smile on his face.
“You’ll have to sneak out every so often so that I can buy you decent food. And don’t forget to bring your group members as well,” his father says. He meets Wufan’s eyes and gives him a quick wink.
“Wufan and I are going to debut together,” Chanyeol beams excitedly before turning to the elder. “And you’ll come back home with me during breaks again, right?”
“Of course! He has to come back to see me,” his sister jumps in, flashing Wufan a cheeky grin.
“Wufan is mine!” Chanyeol yells. He bites his lip after the words leave his mouth, glancing nervously over at him.
“Poor Wufan. I bet you harassed him to be your friend, right?” His sister sticks her tongue out as Chanyeol sputters in protest, but not before she shoots Wufan a knowing smile. “Don’t tell me you followed him even to the bathrooms.”
They continue to bicker back and forth for a few more minutes, his father occasionally joining in to tease Chanyeol, much to the boy’s dismay. Chanyeol’s voice escalates with hysteria until his sister shuts him up by shoving pieces of meat into his mouth, only to rub his hair with a fond look. Wufan is watching all of this silently when he feels a small hand touch his own; he looks over to see Chanyeol’s mother smiling gently at him.
“My son,” she says, nodding over to where Chanyeol is for some reason making bird calls, “is a bit odd, but the boy is a good child.”
Wufan thinks of teeth that are too large and too bright, of Chanyeol trailing behind him at every opportunity, of obnoxious laughter that hurts Wufan’s ears. But he also thinks of excited grins, blue penguin umbrellas, and a boy’s determination to learn Chinese just so that he can communicate with one trainee he happened to meet on a rainy day.
“Chanyeol is pretty odd,” Wufan agrees. His eyes shift over to see the boy laughing hysterically at some joke, hands slapping his knees with every shake of the shoulders. Wufan feels his lips curl upwards. “But I’m beginning to think it’s better that way.”
There’s a strong squeeze on Wufan’s hand and Chanyeol’s mother chuckles gratefully. She’s piling more meat onto Wufan’s plate when Chanyeol glances over, flashing him a smile so wide that his eyes disappear into little curves above his round cheeks.
For the first time since Wufan has moved to Korea, the food tastes like home.
---
The next few days are spent doing exactly what the company told them not to do- eating and sleeping at every opportunity. The morning starts with burnt pancakes and poorly cut fruit (“Just because I’m Canadian doesn’t mean I know how to make pancakes!” Wufan shouts in defense when Chanyeol gives him an exasperated look), and ends with a nap on the living room, both of their faces streaked with batter. Chanyeol later gives Wufan a tour of his town, buying sweets from stands and stopping by cafes, all the while pointing out the oil refineries and automobile plants that litter the edge of the city.
“It’s not much, but I like this place,” Chanyeol says. They’re sitting in a nearby park, watching the dark smoke of the plants flit lightly over the skyline. A cold breeze blows through the trees and Chanyeol breathes deeply. “It’s home.”
Wufan closes his eyes. For some people, people like Sehun and Jongin, people like Chanyeol, going home is easy. For them, it’s a short ride across the city before they’re back in loving arms, surrounded by the smell and sight of what’s familiar. And for others, like Yixing and Luhan, distance is but a number when the answer to their dreams is right within their grasp. But for certain people, confused and naive people like Wufan, home is sometimes so far away that all he sees are the number of miles that separate him and his family, and dreams no longer seem like a good enough reason for all those lonely nights when he can’t even pick up the phone in fear he’ll jump on the next plane back to Canada.
“Must be pretty hard, huh?” Chanyeol speaks softly. For once, there’s no smile on his face as he stares at Wufan. “Leaving behind everything.”
“It’s what needs to be done,” Wufan replies. “As long as I have a reason to keep going, it isn’t too bad.”
They sit in silence for a few moments longer, the occasional sounds of traffic and loud clangs of machinery reaching their ears as the sun sets in the distance. It’s when the sky is lit up in dark pinks and greys, the pale moon starting to peek through the trees, that Chanyeol finally speaks again.
“You have me now,” he says. There are slight trembles in his voice, and his lips are turned up in a nervous smile when he faces Wufan. “So, don’t go back to Canada yet.”
Wufan is stunned into silence for a brief moment, eyebrows lifting when he sees Chanyeol turn a bright red as he fiddles with his jacket zipper.
“You are one bizarre kid,” Wufan eventually replies, letting out a small chuckle. “From day one, you were a special guy.”
“I bet you thought I was really weird,” Chanyeol grins wryly.
“Well...”
“I mean, I followed you everywhere.”
“...yeah.”
“I even bribed this one kid so that I could have the locker next to you.”
“Wait, what?”
“Then there was that time I followed you back to your apartment but I didn’t know where the train station was so I sat outside your place for like an hour before Yixing finally showed up-”
“Just. Stop.”
Chanyeol chews on his lip as he looks up at Wufan.
“Do you still think I’m weird?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“But it’s okay.” Wufan pauses to clear his throat. “Because I like you that way.”
“Oh.”
And Chanyeol’s beaming again, nose wrinkled and eyes squinted as his lips part into a dazzling smile. Wufan can’t look away.
---
“I don’t know why I was even worried about you.”
Yixing smirks at Wufan, his eyes twinkling knowingly as he watches the elder check his phone. Wufan laughs at something he reads before texting back excitedly.
“Should I even ask what happened over break?”
Wufan ignores the latter, flipping his phone shut with a sly smile before going back to eating his lunch. Yixing barely has the time to feel offended when Luhan runs over, slamming his tray onto the table as he gives Wufan an accusatory stare.
“You got laid over break, didn’t you?” Luhan asks. Yixing snorts, a loud chuckle escaping him as Wufan turns red.
“I honestly need to find better friends,” Wufan mutters.
“Yeah, good luck with that. Yixing and I are the only people willing to stand your bitchy face.”
“Leave him alone,” Yixing laughs, leaning over to pat Wufan’s shoulder gently. “How was break with Chanyeol?”
Wufan sputters, wondering how Yixing always seems to know everything, while Luhan screeches loudly.
“Wait, you spent break with Chanyeol, that kid who stalks you? That ‘tigers-get-married-on-rainy-days’ kid?”
“It’s no big deal. I just went over to his house-”
“Tell me,” Luhan leers, smile dangerously tipping at the corners as he leans forward. “Is he absolutely feral in bed?”
Wufan nearly flips his tray as he jumps up, hands stretched towards Luhan’s face. Yixing tugs him back, screaming about “We need his face to debut!” while Luhan cackles triumphantly, pounding the table with glee.
“Is everything okay?”
Chanyeol stands next to their table, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he takes in the sight of a furious, red-faced Wufan being held back by a frazzled Yixing. Luhan smiles innocently, motioning for Chanyeol to sit down next to them.
“Join us,” he says sweetly. Wufan thinks of demonic angels and all the things that are wrong with the world.
“Actually, I wanted to talk with Wufan hyung,” Chanyeol says, staring at his sneakers. “Alone.”
Yixing covers Luhan’s mouth quickly, silencing whatever snarky comment the male was about to say, before giving Chanyeol a smile. Nodding at Wufan, Yixing drags Luhan away.
“Luhan hyung is a bit weird,” Chanyeol comments as he sits down. Wufan snorts.
“Believe it or not, I think he might be more bizarre than you are.”
Chanyeol’s laugh is loud, but Wufan catches the small breaks in his voice along with the hesitant looks Chanyeol sends his way every now and then. The younger’s hand are clutching tightly at his sleeves, smile stretched almost painfully across his face, and Wufan slowly reaches over to him.
“Hey, are you-”
“I’m going away for a while,” Chanyeol suddenly blurts out. Wufan withdraws his hand. “There’s this acting academy or something and I got in so....yeah.”
When Chanyeol looks up at him with confused eyes, Wufan can only look down at his food, swallowing the lump in his throat. Chanyeol is staring at him like he wants Wufan to say something, to do something. But how can he when he doesn’t even know what’s happening right now, doesn’t know why his chest feels tight or why he finds that he can’t be happy for Chanyeol. Wufan breathes slowly, wishing he could say the right words to fill the awkward silence between them.
“I’m not quite sure what I want to do with my life yet. I mean, entertainment stuff obviously but I figured I should explore all my options-”
“That’s great,” Wufan hastily says. He stirs the rice on his plate, trying to stop the way his hands are trembling.
“So, you’ll wait for me, right?”
Wufan looks up to see Chanyeol staring at him, eyes wide and serious as he speaks carefully.
“You won’t debut without me. Right?”
There’s a pause.
“Park Chanyeol,” Wufan sighs, chuckling softly. “You are one weird kid.”
---
When Wufan hears about this M1, M2 deal that Lee Soo Man decided to let loose at a goddamn seminar of all places, he wonders if Chanyeol has figured out his life yet.
It’s been nearly half a year since the younger had left for some academy at the border of Seoul, and other than the occasional text messages and rare video chats, Wufan has no idea how Chanyeol is doing. Wufan himself determined that rap and modeling seem like good options (“Your legs are trees, hyung,” Sehun deadpans. “You’re a model whether you want to be or not.”) but ultimately found that dancing is something he should try to avoid. Chanyeol had laughed loudly at this, and only shrugged when asked about his own future. (“I guess I should just model with you or something,” he murmurs, and Wufan is glad that the darkness of his apartment successfully covers the blush that spreads across his cheeks.)
“Missing your other half?” Jongin used to joke when Chanyeol first left. Luhan would then start cracking up, making lewd expressions in Wufan’s direction while the latter did his best not to throw something at the male’s face.
But with every passing day, and sometimes weeks would pass before Chanyeol responded to his messages, Wufan would sometimes feel an unexplainable loneliness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long while. Luhan eventually stopped his jeering when he saw the dark circles under Wufan’s eyes, the gauntness of his cheekbones when rehearsals ran too long, and Yixing found himself making too many cups of tea for Wufan late in the night.
“Maybe he found something else,” Yixing had said softly one night when Wufan had stared at his monitor for too long. The light had burned into his eyes, but he barely registered the pain because it wasn’t nearly as blinding as Chanyeol’s smile.
“No, he promised,” Wufan replied. “He’ll be back.”
“Don’t get famous without me,” Chanyeol would always say at the end of their phone calls. And Wufan would always rolls his eyes in return, humming in agreement as a soft smile spread across his face. Because they did promise to debut together, after all, and Wufan is not one to go back on his promises, no matter how long he has to wait.
The company is buzzing with speculation and guesses as to who will be in the new group, and even the usually dazed Yixing hangs on to every rumor and whisper that goes on between the staff and the trainees. Wufan soon finds that he tires of all the talk, of uncertainties that won’t even matter if Chanyeol isn’t there with him. He only gives Yixing an encouraging smile before leaving practice early.
It’s raining heavily when he reaches the front door; a small bit of sun barely peeks through the grey clouds and the streets are painted in wet streaks. He’s moving to adjust his hoodie when Wufan spots someone standing near the entrance. Opening his umbrella, blue with Pororo print and a pink keychain, Wufan holds it out to the person.
“Here, you can borrow my umbrella-”
“Hyung.”
Wufan sucks in his breath. This person is far too tall to be Chanyeol, nearly the same height as Wufan himself, and his hair is dyed a lighter color, twisting at the edges in soft curls. Even his voice is different, a deep rumble with rough edges unlike the high-pitched laughter Chanyeol is known for. But underneath the boy’s bangs are wide eyes that light excitedly and a huge smile that curls into a pleased grin as he stares at Wufan. And there’s a familiar laugh that, while too low, holds the same amount of eagerness and crazy Wufan remembers all too clearly. He feels his heart thud almost painfully against his chest.
“Chanyeol,” he breathes.
“You waited for me, hyung.”
---
Wufan later finds that Yixing, Luhan, and Jongin all knew Chanyeol was coming back that day.
“But where’s the fun in telling you,” Luhan smirks. “Surprises are more fun.”
At least Yixing has the decency to look somewhat apologetic and Wufan considers letting this slide because Chanyeol is back and-
“Besides, we got all these adorable pictures of Wufan blushing!”
Luhan runs down the halls screaming, an equally terrified Yixing and Jongin following closely behind. There’s a nun chuck in Wufan’s hand, borrowed from some new trainee named Zitao or another, and he doesn’t know how to use it but he figures it causes pain and that’s good enough for him. He chases after the three screaming boys, Chanyeol’s hand clutched tightly in his own.
---