romaniranch fic dump 2 [how to fall in love part 1/2]
How To Fall In Love In Ten Photographs Or Less [1/2]
Title: How To Fall In Love In Ten Photographs Or Less
Rating: PG-15
Length: 13,800+
Pairings: Chanyeol/Kai
Warnings: moderate to strong language and some mentions of adult themes. also mentions past/unrequited!Kris/Chanyeol
Summary: Chanyeol is paired up with the brand new photographer to do a rush piece in time for the winter edition of his home publication, but this kid - Jongin - turns out to be a bit of a free spirit with an addiction to anything sweet. Shame Chanyeol is decidedly bitter.
how to fall in love in ten photographs or less
“Alright drones, I have a new assignment for you all.”
Non matching slacks and jacket, suspenders over the shoulder, round belly, scruffy beard. Chanyeol’s boss looks like almost every cartoon publishing jockey, and he speaks like one too.
“You are being paired off with photographers for our winter edition. We’re looking for a personal piece, the best of the best will get frontline publication. You lose, you’re on the back of the bus. Or perhaps not on the bus at all.”
Chanyeol rolls his eyes, tapping the edge of his pen on the conference table. There’s kids younger than him here that look eager; a chance to prove themselves. Chanyeol’s already proved himself nine times over. Besides, working with Jongdae is never really work so much as it’s extended time off.
“Okay, so to start our arranged marriages off, we have-”
Chanyeol zones out a bit, trying to think of the kind of thing he’d like to do. The magazine is a sort of urban travel publication. It’s aimed at young people and focused on seeing the world, but it also has what Chanyeol likes to call ‘neat pieces’. Little slivers of indulgence, the small amount of give his boss has on the noose around his neck makes it so he can write things he actually has an interest in. Like his last article - ‘Marriage And Why It’s A Farce’.
“-and Kyungsoo, you will be paired up with Jongdae-”
“Wait, what?” Chanyeol pipes up. “Jongdae is my photographer, what are you doing giving him to Kyungsoo?”
“I’m doing my job, kid, which I usually manage to do without your constant approval,” his boss chides, “Besides, we’re pairing you up with a new hire. Stay after, I’ll give you the details.”
Slumping back down in his seat, Chanyeol waits. Jongdae’s grinning like he’s amused, and Chanyeol vaguely wonders if this was all his idea. Probably was, the prick.
“Listen, please don’t scare this kid off,” Chanyeol’s boss says, rounding on him the minute the conference room is empty but for the two of them. “He’s more qualified than everyone here combined, okay.”
“Qualified doesn’t make a good photographer.”
“His name is Jongin,” Chanyeol’s boss says, obviously keen to ignore Chanyeol’s persistent protests. “He’s new to magazines and publications, but I think this could be good for you. Pulling you out of your comfort zone - it might drag you outta your funk.”
“You’re asking for a personal piece and you’re giving me a stranger.”
“Chanyeol,” his boss sits his rotund backside on the table near Chanyeol’s chair, nearly tipping it over, “I want you to get away for a while. Travel with this kid, show him what kinda things we do around here and then find something worth writing about for yourself. You can’t write this here, in this city, I won’t allow it.”
Chanyeol sighs, tracing an earlier scratch on the table from his pen.
“Gas money?”
His boss nods. “Covered.”
“Room and board?”
Groaning, his boys says, “Save your receipts. We’ll see.”
“Alright,” Chanyeol slaps his hand together with a somewhat hopeful smile, “Paid vacation it is.”
--
Meeting Jongin is a whole different story. They’re introduced in Chanyeol’s office, and the kid comes in dressed like he’s fresh outta school, which might actually be accurate. Fitted jeans, perhaps a little on the ‘too tight’ side, pressed collar shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. He’s got an earthy toned satchel tossed over his shoulder that’s frayed and looks like it was made of hemp. That’s kind of how he would describe Jongin’s hair right now, too. Less fried, more soft - made of a color not quite blond, not quite brown.
“So what are you planning on doing your piece on?” Jongin asks, looking quietly eager. Less so than the other invalids in the office, but it’s almost like he’s timid.
Chanyeol pulls himself from active indifference, refocusing his attention on the boy.
“Our piece. You’re working with me, not for me.”
Jongin lets go of this nervous fluttery laugh. “Yeah, but you’re the writer.”
“So? All the more reason for you to not worry about that and focus on what you do. I don’t want you to think about this as mypiece, because I want you to take pictures like you care about it, like it’s yours,” Chanyeol says firmly.
Jongin quietly adjusts the collar of his shirt. He looks uncomfortable - Chanyeol wonders if it’s something he said, or if Jongin just usually doesn’t wear this kinda thing.
“Okay. Our piece...”
“I’m being serious,” Chanyeol says, “I don’t want second rate photographs, I want you to be at your absolute best.”
Jongin tugs enough at his collar that the top button comes loose, and Chanyeol has to clench his stomach to keep himself from losing it and laughing.
“Sure. My absolute best, no pressure.”
--
Contrary to the fact Chanyeol’s boss is an absolute asshole, Chanyeol actually decides to listen to him. If not for the offer of having it completely paid for, aside from meals, then for the sole excuse to get out of the city for a bit.
Chanyeol spent half the night routing out their trip, figuring out where they’d stop, and where to avoid, printing out maps and highlighting certain routes, adding notes to the edges of the paper. He even has a half-formed idea for the piece.
“I’d call it ‘The Road Less Traveled’, tentative title,” Chanyeol proudly announces.
“I think that’s the name of a book,” Jongin says, huffing after tossing his duffel bag into the back seat. He looks different today. He’s still wearing what looks to be the same pair of jeans, but this time it’s with a button up flannel and a ratty looking hoodie.
“It’s tentative, do you know what the word tentative means?” Chanyeol snaps.
Jongin slumps into the front seat, huddling into his hoodie. “Yes, it means you haven’t struck it out on the page, meaning you’re still thinking of using it. Which you shouldn’t, not unless you want a copyright lawsuit on your hands.”
Jongin pushes his lips out when he speaks informally, almost like he’s pouting. It’s not something Chanyeol should notice, but he does.
Staring oddly at Jongin before turning on his car, Chanyeol says, “Alright - conceptual title, then. No use intended.”
“Still, it sounds kinda cliche.”
Chanyeol sighs on a laugh, starting up his car, and beginning to back out of the lot. “You’re not easily pleased, this will be a pleasant trip.”
“I’m very easily pleased, actually,” Jongin says, brightening almost obnoxiously. “You can tell alot about someone just by the way they pack. I’m a light packer, I don’t carry much baggage.”
Chanyeol narrows his eyes, obvious enough that Jongin can tell if he looks at him, just so Chanyeol doesn’t need to take his eyes off the road.
“You trying to say somethin kid?”
Jongin grins, and Chanyeol only sees half of it from his peripheral vision, but it’s kind of hard to miss. He’s all teeth and curved lips, eyes that curve up and practically disappear. It’s like the embodiment of the greatest happiness known to man is laying on the flat of his tongue, and Jongin is purposely hiding it behind his teeth.
“I bet you have stories to tell.”
Only one worth remembering.
“What all did you bring, then?” Chanyeol asks, looking for a change of subject.
Jongin rustles around in the back. He flops back into his seat, brandishing a small black case.
“One camera, and a bag of clothes and toiletries.”
Chanyeol nods. Certainly no stories to tell from that much.
The deal is that Chanyeol wants to hit most of the unseen towns, the kinds of places you can only ever experience by actually visiting them. It’s the sort of thing most kids from the city, the ones who read the magazine and dream about backpacking across Europe from the comfort of their high rise apartments, can only ever dream about.
The first town they arrive at is less than an hour outside the city, right along the back roads that start to trail into farmland. It’s a little later than Chanyeol had expected. He wanted to leave before it got dark, but only barely missed that considering Jongin couldn’t figure out that “the lot” meant the parking lot of their building, and that it wasn’t some secret codename for another place in town.
Chanyeol stops Jongin from barrelling into his motel room.
“Aren’t you gonna take pictures?” he asks.
“You said this was a personal piece- our piece.”
“Yeah...” Chanyeol narrows his eyes.
“So is this piece about us, or is it about these towns?” Jongin asks.
Chanyeol’s brow pinches together. “I guess... us? Our time in these towns, I think.”
“Then why would I take a picture of this motel?”
Chanyeol blinks.
“Look, I just want you to take pictures that are meaningful to you okay? If you wanna be picky about that, I don’t mind, just... make sure every shot you take means something. That’s all I ask, I’ll leave the rest up to you.”
Jongin nods, pouting a little unintentionally.
“See you bright and early then,” Chanyeol says, before heading into his own room.
--
The agenda for the next day is to walk down the local main street that’s been around for years, and it has a bit of a reputation, or at least a moderately significant online following. The buildings in the town are all ancient, old monumental structures that haven’t been renovated since being pitched, and Jongin at least seems somewhat intrigued by them.
“You should take some shots,” Chanyeol says, side-eying Jongin, “These buildings are practically historic."
Jongin nods, pulling out his camera from it’s case, and startling both himself and Chanyeol when he nearly drops it.
“Jesus, you alright?”
“Um, yeah.”
Jongin slides off to one side, holding the camera like he’s either afraid it’ll fall again, or perhaps maybe even run away from his grip. He snaps a few shots, which Chanyeol tries not to analyze too deeply, before they continue on down the street.
“Can I see the pictures you took?” Chanyeol asks, after an awkward bout of silence apart from their feet against the cobblestones.
“No,” Jongin says softly, holding the camera to his chest.
Chanyeol laughs. “Okay then. Where did you used to work before this? Or who did you work for?”
“I worked for Bernie’s,” Jongin says, eyes wide an innocent.
“Bernie’s? Like, the department store?”
Jongin smiles and nods.
“Did you take the catalogue shots or something? Advertisements?”
“No,” Jongin says airily, and then simply adds, “I was a sales associate.”
Retail. Some bustling amount of experience this kid’s got, but at least it makes sense. He does seem a little naive at times, perhaps a little too innocent for his own good. He kind of reminds Jongin of a trained animal in the way that he’s very easily pleased with himself.
“Well, I guess this is a step up from that then. Congrats.”
Jongin grins, and yep - pleased with himself. “Thanks.”
--
Later that night, at the same motel as the night before, Chanyeol gets an unwarranted text message.
From: Kris
hey. havent heard frm u in awhile... let me know if ur still alive
Chanyeol drops the phone to the bed when he sees it, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes tired and aching. Two devices sit on the mattress, both open and baring unfinished business - a laptop with a blinking cursor and a blank word document, and a phone with half an inbox full of unreplied text messages.
Chanyeol closes them both, and sleeps.
--
The next day, while they’re about forty minutes into the drive over to the next town, Jongin drops a bit of a bomb on the whole arrangement.
“So, I have this thing, where I believe in being honest with the people you surround yourself with, and I think that I’m doing us both harm by lying about this, so I have a confession to... make. I guess.”
Chanyeol sends him an odd look. “Um, alright? What confession?”
“I don’t know the first thing about being a photographer. I’ve never taken pictures before, at least not with a camera that wasn’t embedded into my phone,” he admits sheepishly.
Chanyeol’s grip on the wheel tightens, and his jaw clenches with it. “Um, what the fuck? How did you even get hired, then?”
“I made up a bullshit resume,” Jongin says, his voice raising defensively, eyes wide like the trained animal that’s been caught doing something he’s been explicitly told not to do.
“Wow,” Chanyeol says, sighing deeply and turning his focus back onto the road. He’s tempted to go off about feeling betrayed, but he hardly knows the kid. Besides, he’s kind of impressed. The thought makes Chanyeol laugh quietly, before asking, “You didn’t think you’d get caught?”
“Obviously not, since I’m here,” Jongin says, and then he sends a weak slap to Chanyeol’s bicep, accompanying a pout. Cute.
“So you’re not a photographer,” Chanyeol notes, and this earns him another weak slap, this one he flinches away from.
“Who’s to say I’m not a photographer, anyway? If you decide you want to be something, you find the tools and you do it. Isn’t that what like... having aspirations is?” Jongin asks, all with exaggerated hand gestures and dramatic whiffs of breath. It’s ironic, because Jongin has this ‘always sleepy’ look going for him, and Chanyeol figured he’d have the personality to match but... apparently not.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin looks like he’s at least done ranting for a little while. Chanyeol sighs, reality sinking into place, “Great. So I’m stuck on a bunk piece, with a bullshit photographer. Wonderful turn of events here.”
Jongin frowns so deeply, Chanyeol can see it without turning his head. The strange thing is, he actually kinda feels bad about being the one to put that expression on his face. It doesn’t really suit him all that well.
“The bunk piece isn’t my fault, you didn’t exactly put much thought into it yourself,” Jongin slumps.
“It’s a fucking personal piece, okay,” Chanyeol snaps mildly, “It’s supposed to be the kind of thing that develops into something as you go. The sort of thing you only recognize as a piece of work once you’ve had the chance to pour a bit of yourself into it.”
Jongin huffs, arms crossed, huddled into the seat. “Your bullshit doesn’t sound all that far off from mine.”
--
The next town over has an apparently “world famous” bakery, which probably only means its followers extend outside of county lines. Chanyeol is actually hungry, at least, on top of being exhausted from lack of sleep. The motel this time isn’t so trashy, but it’s not any more comfortable to sleep in. Chanyeol’s always found it hard to sleep away from home, so that was at least kind of expected.
Still, it makes him a little short tempered. He can only pray this place sells coffee, which he is relieved to find they do the minute he catches the scent of it.
Jongin sits across from him in the booth, his black canvas bag on the table, fumbling with his camera. He looks like the innocent victim of an Ikea flat pack raid - one induced by a wife, or perhaps a family member, or someone equally as detrimental to your health. Confused doesn’t even begin to describe the expression on his face. It’s more a mix of fear and anxiety, with a dash of‘I’m this close to throwing this thing into the wall’.
Chanyeol has to actively keep from smiling at him. He’s more than a little amused by the whole thing, even if he is still waiting for the caffeine to kick in.
“Why did you even buy that if you don’t know what you’re doing?” Chanyeol asks.
Pausing in his borderline scientific examination of the device, Jongin sighs, and says, “I didn’t. My parents bought it for me, after I dropped out of school.”
Chanyeol huffs out a laugh, pointing to the mess on the table. “You dropped out of school for this?”
Jongin levels him a glare. “Yes.”
“And your parents were okay with that?”
Jongin sighs, dropping the camera gently to the table, as if the sound of Chanyeol’s voice is too much of a distraction to even bother trying to continue.
“No, but I convinced them to be supportive,” Jongin says, and then his gaze slips momentarily up to Chanyeol. “Something I’m hoping I can eventually do with you.”
Chanyeol ‘tsk’s, “I never said I wasn’t supportive.”
“You said I was a bullshit photographer,” Jongin bites, tilting his chin upwards in a sort of silent challenge.
“I was frustrated, okay?”
“We’re working together, you know?” Jongin says, a little bit desperately. “Our piece, as you constantly like to remind me. I still have this job, which is something. Unless you decide to rat me out...”
Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. Besides, it’s not that hard to figure out how to work a camera.”
Jongin shoves the device into Chanyeol’s hands abruptly, causing Chanyeol to flinch. “Here, you figure it out then.”
Chanyeol takes a good look at the contraption, and suddenly feels just the tiniest amount of the anxiety he saw on Jongin’s face. The thing looks like a tool used to break down terrorists, or some sort of training device for those people that sit on the borderline of being both geniuses and also clinically insane. Not even Jongdae’s camera is this complex. Chanyeol’s keyboard has less buttons.
“Jesus, why did you buy the most fucking complex camera on the planet?” Chanyeol asks incredulously.
Jongin shrugs. “I dunno. I just went in the store with my parent’s credit card and asked for a DLSR.”
Chanyeol blinks at him, narrowing his eyes. “You realize it’s a DSLR right? Digital single... lens... something-”
“Well I obviously know that now,” Jongin adds tightly.
This kid is absolutely clueless. He’s probably that idiot kid that read a book about cooking and then went and bought the most expensive kitchen appliances he could find before he’d even had the chance to try anything out.
Chanyeol has an idea. Chanyeol stands from the table, leaving the camera in all it’s intimidating glory in an upended heap in the center. Chanyeol walks out of the diner, leaving Jongin stuck in that booth to stare holes into his back.
“Here,” Chanyeol slams down a plastic bag on the table when he returns, right next to Jongin’s camera.
Jongin jumps at the noise, and he looks like he’s been worrying his bottom lip while waiting. Maybe he thought Chanyeol wouldn’t have come back, like he’d just... leave him here, out in the middle of nowhere.
Staring at Chanyeol for a few more moments, Jongin eventually reaches for the plastic bag, timidly pulling out what’s inside of it, and- “A disposable camera?”
Chanyeol nods, and it’s his turn to look proud of himself, despite Jongin still looking significantly baffled. “Simple enough for both of us to figure out. Consider this your training wheels.”
Jongin levels him an unamused glare, filled with teenage angst and perhaps a little shame. “I’m being trained by a writer on how to take pictures?”
“No,” Chanyeol shakes his head, “You’re being trained by a disposable camera. I’m just the patient bystander who has to work with you.”
Jongin nods slowly, like he’s appraising a piece of music, and then startles the ever-loving shit out of Chanyeol when he suddenly lifts the cardboard cased camera and snaps a picture of Chanyeol - flash included.
“What the fuck was that for?” Chanyeol bites, blinking back his vision. “Give a little warning, please.”
Jongin smirks. “No warnings. If you’re gonna take personal pictures, you can’t tell someone you’re taking them. It ruins the moment.”
“Um, okay,” Chanyeol mutters. “Didn’t realize you were suddenly the expert.”
Chanyeol looks up to catch Jongin turning the device in his hands, examining it and all of it’s two-button glory with a bright smile on his face. It’s that eager one again, the one where he looks pleased with himself, but also a little excited too.
“I kind of like this, actually,” Jongin admits. “I can’t see what I’ve done until it’s finished. There’s no display.”
Chanyeol sighs, staring down at the empty plastic bag next to the monster camera. “Well I’m glad you’re happy with this, because I am officially stressed out now.”
“Don’t be,” Jongin grins, looking up at Chanyeol, “I’m a fast learner.”
Chanyeol takes Jongin’s camera, the one that belongs in the NASA space program, and stuffs it in the leftover plastic bag, wrapping it up and placing it in his lap.
“I’m keeping this as collateral,” Chanyeol says in response to Jongin’s questioning look, “If your shit doesn’t deliver, I’m selling this to pay my rent, since I probably won’t be earning any money off this piece. There’s gotta be a museum that would have this, somewhere...”
Jongin shrugs, and pulls his focus back to the disposable camera. “Suit yourself.”
--
Jongin takes a total of twenty-two pictures, all in all, the entire reel.
His first picture is the one of Chanyeol, off his guard at the booth in the bakery. The second one he takes is of the outside of the bakery. They’re about to head back out onto the road, having checked out of their motels, but Jongin makes him pull over. He stands up out of the car, pointing the camera up towards the paint chipped awning above the entrance of the shop. He spins the obnoxious little wheel once he’s snapped the shot, once again quietly pleased with himself.
“Why did you take that one?” Chanyeol asks, standing out his door, leaning against the roof to watch.
“You asked me to take pictures of things that are meaningful. This place now means something to me.”
Chanyeol jerks his chin forward. “Why?”
Jongin smiles, like he’s amused by Chanyeol’s question, as if he thinks Chanyeol already knows the answer. “Because this is where I earned my training wheels.”
--
The third shot Jongin takes is of the odometer in Chanyeol’s car.
He leans over the center console, reaching into the gap between the wheel and the dash, and takes the picture, all while Chanyeol’s still driving.
“Um, why that one?” Chanyeol asks, watching Jongin like he’s officially off his rocker.
“It shows we’re going somewhere,” Jongin says with a bright smile, spinning the camera a few times before letting it fall into his lap.
Chanyeol narrows his eyes, and then sighs, unimpressed. “Okay, kid. Whatever you say.”
“You’re so pessimistic,” Jongin mumbles.
“No,” Chanyeol begins, in his best matter-of-fact tone, “I just don’t see the world through rainbow colored glasses, like you do.”
Jongin chuckles. “The world is already in vivid color, you don’t need rainbow glasses to see it.”
Chanyeol hums. “But what if you’re color blind?”
“See?” Jongin says harshly, whipping his head to glare almost offended at him. “You dirty pessimist.”
Chanyeol laughs then, loud and probably obnoxious. He’d once been told he laughs too loud, but Jongin looks somewhat amused by his uncontrolled volume.
“Okay, but it’s a car. All cars drive, all cars have mileage. What makes this one special?”
“We’re in it,” Jongin says, a breathy sound seeping into his otherwise firm tone, “We’re creating a story, why not document the journey?”
“Usually when people document their journey they take pictures of, oh, I don’t know, the sights?” Chanyeol points to the endless farmland around them as they drive, the way the fields start to melt into forests further on down the way.
“Yeah, usually,” Jongin agrees, and then, “But sometimes they forget how many steps it took to get to those sights - how long it was until they arrived at their destination.”
Chanyeol huffs a moderately amused laugh. “Why does that matter?”
Jongin shrugs, and he twists his mouth like he’s not sure if he’s pouting or if he has an itch in his nose. And then it all drops when he seems to apparently find the answer.
“Sometimes the path is more interesting than where you started, or where you finish.”
Chanyeol grins, in that big, open way, where he can’t help himself, even if he wanted to hide it he couldn’t. Jongin is a personal piece all on his own.
“I can’t wait to see what you take a picture of next,” Chanyeol comments.
Jongin lifts the camera from his lap, snapping another unannounced shot of Chanyeol, his fourth shot.
“Jesus, what did I tell you about warning me?” Chanyeol waves him away blindly, as if the camera caught a stray wisp of his soul and he’s trying to detach it from sucking the rest out of him.
“Sorry,” Jongin quietly admits, though he’s still grinning devilishly.
“Why’d you take that one, mister ‘everything-is-meaningful’?”
“You looked happy,” Jongin says, “You haven’t really looked happy since I’ve met you.”
Chanyeol swallows thickly. It’s a shame how pointing out how happy someone looks can completely wipe it from their face, if they let it. Chanyeol doesn’t let himself look at Jongin to see the disappointment.
--
Chanyeol tries to write that night. His laptop is out, on his lap, warming his thighs in the otherwise chilly hotel room. He can’t think of anything for his piece, though. It’s hard to write when you don’t know what you’re writing about, but it’s even harder when you don’t have the accompanying shots to look for inspiration in.
The cursor burns a blinking hole in his brain, and for a small moment, he thinks of writing about Jongin. Jongin’s philosophical views on how to brute-force your way into any career you want, just with the help of an almost childlike imagination, and your parent’s credit card. Or how different things can mean something to you, and why an expression on an almost stranger would fall under that category.
But then Jongin doesn’t feel like a stranger, not anymore. He has a distinct personality, has wove his way into a specifically person-shaped slot in Chanyeol’s life, albeit somewhat forcefully.
He starts it all off by writing “How do you forget a forcefully unforgettable person?”
Chanyeol’s mind betrays him, barely a sentence in, and he finds himself thinking of Kris. Of the friendship Kris refuses to let go of - of the painfully blissful ignorance Kris always seemed to have with him. It takes less than a minute for Chanyeol to realize that you can’t forget certain people, not even if you want to.
He ends up deleting the line, and closing his laptop.
--
The fifth picture Jongin takes on his cardboard coated camera is one of a milkshake at a local diner, the next town over. It’s in a tall, frosted glass, complete with a mound of whipped cream, and a cherry on top. Chanyeol watches him take it, from across the booth - not unlike the other booth from the bakery the next town over.
“Why?” Chanyeol asks, and Jongin smirks at the question like he’d been expecting it.
“Because I like milkshakes, so it has meaning to me,” Jongin replies.
Chanyeol snorts. “I thought you were deeper than that.”
Rolling his eyes, Jongin says, “I never claimed to be deep. I’m just not miserable all the time.”
“I’m not miserable all the time either,” Chanyeol blurts, ego somewhat bruised.
“Prove it,” Jongin demands, and then he grins. “Order a milkshake. Like this one, with extra happy.”
Chanyeol bites his lip, a fiery determination filling him with something like unabashed resolve. He was never one to turn down a challenge.
With his most saccharinely sweet voice, Chanyeol calls over the waitress and orders a milkshake himself, keeping sure to smile wide the whole time. The waitress looks at him like she thinks he’s probably moderately insane, and Chanyeol wouldn’t say she’s entirely wrong, not right now. He orders it with sprinkles and cookie crumbles, and Jongin hides his laughter behind his palm, watching this all play out from the other side of the table.
“Are you happy now?” Chanyeol asks as soon as the waitress leaves.
“Very,” Jongin says, grin threatening to split his face in two.
When Chanyeol receives the diabetic monstrosity, he stares down at it forlornly. He’s never been one for sweets. He’s got his black coffee on the table next to it, maybe he can use that as a chaser.
Before he can act on tasting the beast, Jongin surprises him by snapping a picture, number six.
Chanyeol glares angrily at Jongin, but the irritation instantly dissipates when he notices Jongin has a distinct glob of whipped cream on his nose, like he’d been attempting to eat the thing without a straw or spoon.
“Give me that damn camera,” Chanyeol says, and then snatches it from Jongin’s grasp.
Jongin has barely enough time to pose with his thumbs up, before Chanyeol takes the seventh picture.
Laughing, Jongin says, “So this means something to you, huh? Me enjoying myself?”
Chanyeol finds himself blushing, cheeks turning hot, which the realization of this happening only - cruelly - makes it worse. Chanyeol dips his head, stirring his disgustingly sweet looking drink, now rapidly melting, hoping that Jongin won’t see the pink tint of his face.
“Maybe... why shouldn’t it?”
Jongin leans over, and quickly plucks the camera from Chanyeol’s hand.
“Finish your manly coffee, I’ll have what you don’t want of your milkshake.”
--
Driving through to the next town, the weather gets a little warmer, at least warm enough for Jongin to roll the window down and for Chanyeol to not feel like he has to complain about it. Jongin is becoming exceedingly comfortable around him now, especially in this car. He’s got his shoes kicked off, feet up on the dashboard, leaning into the door.
Jongin leans out a little further, arm extending through the window, and he snaps a picture, lens pointed up towards the blue sky. Shot number eight.
“Why that one?” Chanyeol asks, routine making the question fall from his lips almost without him knowing, as Jongin pulls his arm back into the car.
“The sky is always with us,” Jongin says wistfully, still staring out the window, up into the clouds. “It’s a part of this journey.”
Chanyeol chuckles. “I’m surprised you’re not a vegetarian.”
Jongin finally pulls his gaze from the heavens and turns to focus on Chanyeol. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Still stifling down laughter, Chanyeol asks, “Did your parents let you walk around naked as a kid? I can totally picture you as a little nature-child with flowers in your hair.”
Jongin’s face is tight, unamused, which really is not helping the whole tryingnottolaugh thing.
“No, my parents are very pro-clothing,” he says, pouting, but then brightens and adds, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t walk around naked now.”
Chanyeol swallows. “I think local law might have something to say about that.”
“I meant indoors, idiot. You haven’t been into any of my motel rooms yet.”
Completely against his will, Chanyeol ends up picturing this. Jongin, walking around in the nude, his skin a contrast to the otherwise dull tones of all the places they’ve slept, his hair maybe a little damp from the shower, soft and touchable. Chanyeol forces himself to blink, and realizes he’s blushing violently, cheeks spreading heat down to his neck, the atmosphere in the car suddenly too stifling.
His brain wants to admit defeat and go back to that mental image of Jongin’s naked body, but he’s startled again - this time, perhaps more than usual - by the flash of Jongin’s ninth picture.
Chanyeol lets out a painfully exasperated sigh. “Jongin, what the fuck?”
Jongin grins, staring at Chanyeol, and answers the unasked question by saying, “Because I made you blush.”
--
They drive a little further to the next town, an extra hour or so, and then arrive in a small sailing community, which Jongin has incorrectly dubbed ‘cute beach town’. There’s about half a rocky shore there for boats to dock nearby, but that’s the closest thing to a beach there is. Regardless, Jongin loves it.
All of the buildings here are small and squished together, like they’d had a limited amount of space and too many houses to build, and they are all each painted a different color of pastel. Most of them aren’t houses anymore, a lot of them are shops or restaurants, and Jongin seems keen to look into every single one they pass.
Jongin becomes anchored to a local sweet shop he finds, one that sells homemade candy, and has a nice old man behind the till that reminds Chanyeol of his boss, except he’s wearing an apron.
Jongin turns into an actual fiend in this place, he’s lifting all the glass lids of all the testers, trying absolutely everything he can get his eager little mits on. The shop owner isn’t exactly helping, either, pointing him in the direction of things he might’ve missed his first time around, or giving suggestions of various confections for him to try.
Once Jongin has his gargantuan bag full to the brim of candy, the shop owner hands him a second, smaller bag, and Chanyeol snatches it from his hands.
“Please don’t encourage him,” he chides the old man, “I don’t need him on any more of a sugar high than he already is, on a daily basis.”
Jongin snatches the bag from Chanyeol, after at least half an effort of putting up a fight for it. “Don’t be an ass, this bag was for you.”
Before Chanyeol can protest, and remind Jongin that he actually does not enjoy sweet things, Jongin is shoving it back to him, the bag half full with various things Chanyeol probably couldn’t even name.
“Would you mind if I took your picture?” Jongin asks the man with a pleasant smile, and then thanks the man and says goodbye to him after snapping his tenth shot.
Jongin ends up practically skipping out of the shop, leaving Chanyeol to meander behind him, and when he catches up to Jongin he sees him pointing the camera at himself, angled in such a way that he’d catch the row of colorful buildings behind him in the picture as well.
Once the eleventh shot is taken, Jongin drops the camera, and instinctively goes to look at the display screen, which obviously isn’t there. “It’s weird trying to take a selca without seeing it.”
Chanyeol takes a small round, dusty piece of candy from his significantly smaller bag, fear twisting his features - because the dust of sugar makes it almost look moldy - but then relaxing when he tastes it’s moderately sour strawberry flavor.
Chewing on the sweet as he walks down the road with Jongin, Chanyeol asks, “So why’d you take that one?”
“I already told you, I love this town. Why wouldn’t I want a picture of me and my love?”
Chanyeol huffs skeptically. “How can you love this town? You’ve been here once.”
This question seems to strike a nerve with Jongin, because he stops dead, swivels in his place to glare at Chanyeol, and says, “What the hell kind of question is that?”
Chanyeol stops suddenly as well, cautiously swallowing the candy he’d chewed, and asks, “What?”
“How can you question that? That’s so unnecessary,” Jongin says, fire tinting his tone. Chanyeol wouldn’t say he looks angry just... passionate, maybe. If Chanyeol had the camera, he would take a picture of him right now.
“I always ask you why you take your pictures,” Chanyeol sheepishly admits.
“I don’t mean that, I mean why I would love something. What business is that of yours?”
“I don’t... understand,” Chanyeol stumbles over his words.
Jongin sighs, turning back to continue walking now. “I bet your concept of love is just as pessimistic as the rest of you.”
“What are you talking about?” Chanyeol asks with a scowl, more than a little offended.
“I bet you have a five year plan and everything. Date for a year, confess your love, date as people in love for a year, propose, spend two years engaged, then get married and call your first year a prolonged honeymoon,” Jongin rants, all in seemingly one breath.
Chanyeol’s scowl deepens into something ugly - as deep as a scar, poised as blatant and vulnerable and right on his mouth, wearing it like a brand.
“Please don’t talk to me about marriage,” Chanyeol says darkly.
“What, am I wrong?” Jongin turns in place, stopping Chanyeol in his tracks once more, this time even more unannounced. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You have no idea what I think about love, okay? Drop it.”
“You realize nobody knows what love means to anybody else, right?” Jongin asks, voice softer now, almost calming.
Chanyeol sighs. “What are you even saying? Don’t turn this into another hippie rant, maybe you should put away the candy now-”
“I’m serious,” Jongin interrupts. “I could tell you I’m in love with you, right here, right now. And who has the right to tell me I’m wrong?”
Chanyeol feels a little winded, like someone knocked the words right out of him. “What?”
“Whatever love is should only matter to yourself. You can love someone in your own way, and the other person might not love you back, but that doesn’t make what you feel any less valid,” Jongin says.
The fresh air surrounding them in gentle breezes now suddenly tastes bitter and stifling. What makes this all even worse, is that Chanyeol actually agrees with what Jongin’s saying, he just can’t say that, not out loud. Not yet.
“Sure,” is all he says, voice tight.
Jongin sighs, releasing whatever was left of the tension in his shoulders, his bag of candy clutched tightly in his fist down at his side. His lips look so full when he pouts like this, his whole face softens with it. Chanyeol has a really bad habit of noticing stupid things like this, it’s why he started avoiding eye contact for a while.
“So, let me love this stupid town,” Jongin says, and then with the pinky and ring finger of his candy-filled hand, he tugs at Chanyeol’s wrist. “Let’s go.”
Part 2