It is advisable to read "Generically Speaking" first before you proceed with this sequel to understand its universe. Or you can read either one, just for the sake of KrisHo.
Just some here and there of their life together after the first story.
One of the many things that Yifan first figured out about Junmyeon during the times they were together was that Junmyeon was never comfortable sleeping inside someone’s arms. It was weird, and a little bit ironic actually, because every night whenever they were already in bed, getting ready to fall asleep, Junmyeon would be the first one to find his hand and held onto it, as if he didn’t want to wake up alone (Yifan never leave the bed until Junmyeon woke up, though). He usually would wake up the next morning to Junmyeon’s unconscious (and rather violent) squirming, trying to get out from his long arms securing his neck and waist.
Of course, he didn’t let go. He never did.
So the night when he finally got Junmyeon back inside his arms after the tireless years of waiting, he was rather surprised to find Junmyeon’s small frame was clinging tightly onto him while the small guy was snoring. Yifan liked it, though. It felt really nice and fulfilling having Junmyeon inside his arms and close to him like that, filling in every crook, bend and corner of his body.
Like they were the puzzle pieces that belonged next to each other
At every toss and turn, however, Yifan was worried Junmyeon would crawl out of the bed and disappear again, leaving him lost, empty and heart-broken like he did almost nine years ago, so he didn’t get to sleep very soundly.
“Are you still going to work today?” Yifan asked him sleepily the morning after, and Junmyeon felt guilty as he buttoned his shirt up. “It’s freaking Sunday, you know? In case you didn’t check the calendar,” Yifan continued after Junmyeon sat quietly, almost like a statue when his first question went unanswered.
“I just need to sign a few papers for inventory. Yixing—”
“Who’s Yixing? And why is he calling you on your day off?” Yifan asked again, not letting Junmyeon to finish his sentence. His hands were crawling on the sides of his body, tickling him by the waist and proceeded to unbutton his shirt from the bottom. Junmyeon slapped his hands and stood up as quickly as he could from the bed, but he was held down by a pair of strong arms wrapped around his chest from the back.
‘Don’t go. Don’t meet Yixing. I don’t want you to meet Yixing. Who’s Yixing anyways?”
“I hate him already.” Yifan deadpanned, cutting him off once again, and Junmyeon thought it was really funny to see Yifan’s blind jealousy dripping out from his tone of speaking and body language. It was really hard to see him acting so spoiled when they were together back then, and Junmyeon had always waited for Yifan to call him at random times during the nights he spent at his cubicle in the office doing the unappreciated overtimes and force him to go home. Yifan never did, though. Instead, he was the one who cycled from the café to his office, bringing him the leftovers and told him to work hard and don’t worry about him.
“Yifan...” Junmyeon whispered as he was still trying to fight the long fingers that were dancing on his ribs. Yifan stopped kissing his back when Junmyeon turned around and palmed his cheeks.
“Yixing’s my associate. And he’s taken, so you don’t have to worry about him.”
“Really?” Yifan asked him, slowly but curiously. There’s a glint of hope in his voice, too, but Junmyeon thought it would be very embarrassing if he point it out, so he didn’t.
“Yeah. He’s dating our junior designer,” Junmyeon told him carelessly as Yifan let him go to finish getting dressed. However, a couple of minutes later, Yifan clucked his tongue and scrunched his face. Something didn’t feel so right about Junmyeon’s statement.
“Who’s the junior designer?” he asked in a monotone. Junmyeon raised a brow trying to remember a name.
“Oh Sehun.” Yifan gritted his teeth.
“Let me get this straight; Yixing, your associate, a man, is dating Oh Sehun, your junior designer, a boy? So he’s a – they’re a – and I don’t have to worry??” Yifan shrieked in panic, and Junmyeon covered his ears as he wondered how high this giant’s voice could go.
“Yeah. Well I dated you, didn’t I? What’s the big deal?” Junmyeon asked without looking, trying to put on the cuff on his wrist. Yifan then naturally took his hands and helped him to put them on. Junmyeon thanked him with a big grin.
“Dating.” Yifan suddenly said, and Junmyeon was dumbfounded.
“Dating. You’re dating me now. Don’t use any past tenses anymore or I’m gonna kick your ass,” he pouted, and Junmyeon winked as he apologised.
“Got it. So... dinner tonight?” he said as Yifan helped him to put on his jacket.
“Dinner tonight. Oh and Junmyeon?” Yifan called his name, and as he turned around, Junmyeon could feel a pair of warm lips were flowering his thin ones. It took them almost five minutes of silent breathing and tongues counting the teeth before Junmyeon took the initiative to pull away. Yifan still refused to let go, though, so their foreheads were connected for a few more seconds when Yifan whispered breathlessly;
“I still hate Yixing, though.”
Junmyeon couldn’t control his giggle.
“Who’s Zhitao?” Junmyeon asked calmly as he was sipping the Americano from the porcelain cup. Yifan, who was sitting in front of him across the table almost spurted his iced mocha, so he covered it up with a forced cough.
“Zhitao.” Yifan repeated as a statement, but Junmyeon knew it was supposed to be a series of questions; ‘where did you hear that name?’, ‘what did he say to you?’, ‘is he bothering you?’, ‘are you going to doubt me now?’
“He called you last night while you were out for your Dunhill. He said he’s going to call you tomorrow, about France. Minseok said he’s a friend of yours.” Junmyeon said with a small smile on his face, having a quick glance at Yifan and then rested his view onto the dull-coloured weather outside the café. The beautiful green trees across the streets were busy turning yellow and fell onto the ground last week, and Junmyeon remembered kicking the bed of dried leaves with Yifan while holding hands on their way to the café.
Yifan suggested the café during the second week they were back together, saying that it belongs to Minseok, a good friend of his who worked together with him several years ago before he went famous. Junmyeon knew him, though. He was one of the first friends he made through Yifan. In fact, he did meet him a couple of years ago even before he knew Yifan was actually keeping tabs about him. Minseok did mention about the opening of his new café but Junmyeon was too distracted to remember the details because he was afraid that Yifan could be jumping out of nowhere at any time while they were speaking.
“You know, Yifan, we’ve been living our own lives in the past nine years. It’s only natural for you to have someone... you know, special, before we crossed paths again. I did, too.” Junmyeon finally let out his thought as he reached for Yifan’s hand that was let free on the table. It seemed as if Yifan was taken by surprise with his words, and his touch made him relaxed a little bit.
“He was more than a friend, but he wasn’t special. You, you are special, but he wasn’t. It was just some occasional meet ups and drinks together, but then it turned into something else. Physical. I didn’t know that he would become so... attached. He’s struggling with trying to come out to his parents, you know, and I was having a hard time then, because you—” Yifan paused; his hands were covering his eyes and a big part of his face. He seemed reluctant to continue, but at the same time, he was eager to do so.
“...because I was never without a partner?” Junmyeon continued in a whisper, one hand trying to pull Yifan’s hands away from his face, but failed.
“Because I didn’t look for you?” he guessed again, giving up on trying. But Yifan was still silent.
“Because you were so happy back then that I was scared you’d walk past me one day and wouldn’t even remember who I am,” Yifan finally whispered after a couple of minutes, and Junmyeon bit his lower lip.
‘It wasn’t a long time ago, was it?’ Junmyeon would like to ask, but didn’t, because he knew about the plane tickets to France that he found inside Yifan’s drawer a few days after they were back together. He saw the luggage hidden inside Yifan’s wardrobe – they were yet to be unpacked. He could hear Yifan’s voice whispering into the phone a few nights ago, trying to tell someone to never call him again politely, as if he was talking to a child.
Well, putting his trust in an adult like that; Zhitao is a child, isn’t he?
Funny, he remembered the time when he was so obsessed with the idea of generic love. If he was who he was nine years ago, maybe he would already be standing up and walking out of the café, because the Yifan in front of him right now wasn’t the Yifan that was going to match him. This Yifan was still feeling guilty for a kid he used to sleep with and had grown attached to, and Junmyeon wasn’t ready to have someone like that telling him ‘I love you’ every morning in his bed, because right now, Junmyeon was ready to give Yifan his whole life if he asked him to.
(He had abandoned his other options by choosing Yifan again, and Yifan must be cut off any other options too, just like him)
“I’m sorry.” Junmyeon apologised, and Yifan pulled his hands away from his face. He seemed surprised with the apology. Junmyeon let out a small sigh, and smiled.
“There were times when I didn’t think about you at all. It would be really inappropriate to remember about my ex-lover when I was having a happy time with my new one, don’t you think?” he said, and Yifan nodded solemnly.
“And I don’t think you would want to know when I missed you the most,” he guessed, but Yifan shook his head.
“I do.” He said. Junmyeon scratched the back of his head and bit his lower lip again.
“I missed your big hands at nights when I was alone. I missed you during breakfast because nobody ever made me those slimy sandwiches like you after that. Whenever I was at a client’s empty house, I wondered how you felt the morning after I was gone.” He muttered quietly, and his eyes were focusing on his coffee cup instead of Yifan’s face.
“I missed you whenever I felt like it would be convenient for me, and I’m sorry for that. I’ve wasted nine years of our lives trying to deny that I am in love with you, that you are the right ones for me, and I’m sorry for that too. So Yifan, there’s nothing to be guilty about. I’m sorry that I let you felt that way, and I’m sorry for Zhitao.” Junmyeon ended, and by the time he looked up again, Yifan was smiling with his gum shown; a sight that made him fall in love with him once.
“Zhitao’s my cousin. He’s going to study some culinary skills in France and he forced me to follow him because he can’t speak the language, but it’s a good thing you came right before the flight, so I had an excuse to stay.” Yifan explained, and Junmyeon had an extreme dumbfounded look on his face.
“And trust me, despite being so fucking cuddly and girly, he’s so not into men,” he added after he took another sip of his iced mocha, so cavalier and carefree as if he wasn’t the guy with all the problems in this world a few minutes ago.
“I’m glad that I was always on your mind, darling.” He continued when Junmyeon was still staring at him as if his eyes were shooting laser and Yifan’s face was a piece of cardboard for an experiment.
“It’s also revenge, since, well, you’ve been dating quite a handful of ladies while I was trying so damn hard to stay truehearted to our love. Oh, the struggle. It’s really hard to be handsome and remain single at the same time, you know.” He let out a heavy sigh before pulling a big idiotic grin on his face. Junmyeon took a deep breath and shut his eyes.
“Fuck you. For the love of God, I do love you, but fuck you, Wu Yifan.”
“So what about Hae Ryung?”
“What about her?” Junmyeon returned the question as Yifan was trying to fit into the same bathtub he was in. Junmyeon laughed seeing the water overflowed as the giant man was adjusting his back. A yellow duck slipped from his hands and fell onto the floor as he was straightening his feet underneath Junmyeon’s naked bottom. He grunted and huffed, and the aromatherapy candles that were surrounding them swayed as if a dragon had just flapped its wings across.
“Well, she’s your first girlfriend, isn’t she? Why are you still in contact with her?” he asked, this time more specifically, and Junmyeon giggled as he ran the handheld shower across Yifan’s face. His lover was gasping for air for a few seconds before he grabbed the shower from his hands and hooked it back in its place. Yifan then captured both his wrists and held them down onto Junmyeon’s bare thighs. They looked so pale and translucent as he bent his knees and the candle lights were illuminating his protruded legs.
“Hae Ryung’s also married and mothering a child. What is so wrong by keeping in touch with an old friend? You’re still having game weekends with Minseok and... Who’s that kid from your old publishing company? The cracked editor... Jongdae!” Junmyeon yelped at the end of his words when Yifan slipped one of his toes between his legs, slowly between his thighs up to his bottom. Junmyeon’s toes were curling at the sudden touch as he crouched until his forehead was kissing his knees, and Yifan seemed to enjoy his view.
“He’s not cracked. He’s just... eccentric. Besides, he laughs a lot and I think it’s funny. I don’t like you hanging out with Hae Ryung too often,” he warned, this time slipping another toe just below Junmyeon’s crotch. Junmyeon let out a heavy moan as he tilted his head backwards; lips trembled just from the friction made by Yifan’s toes. What pissed him more was that Yifan didn’t even use his hands at all, smirking at him as he was leaning against the wall of the tub, moving his toes and made Junmyeon excited all by himself.
“For God’s sake, dude, her husband’s your fucking editor!” Junmyeon yelled as he jerked one of his legs forward, straight into Yifan’s crotch. There was a sound like a dying ox coming out from Yifan’s mouth, and he was crouching with his face half-submerged into the water. Standing up, Junmyeon’s hands were on his waist, and he was looking at Yifan like a winner looking down at the third placer.
“Whaaarrr diirrr yuuurrr durrr thaarrrr—” Yifan yelled from underneath the water so it wasn’t very audible. Junmyeon pulled his head up from the water by the neck and he was almost deafened by the dolphin-like scream from his lover.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT!? My dick—arggghhh!!” Yifan stood up abruptly, looking down for a quick check on his vital area. Junmyeon hissed when he saw a bruise the size of his feet just a few inches away from Yifan’s scrotum.
“Nobody likes bubble soap in their ass. Besides, I missed it. Stop being so overdramatic, dude.” Junmyeon snickered as he walked out from the bathtub, only to be pulled in once again by Yifan.
“Since when did you become so dangerous?” he asked as his mouth was busy attacking Junmyeon’s. Junmyeon was suffocating, struggling to find his grip on the sides of the bathtub and escaping Yifan’s sexual harassment.
“Since – ugh – hmmnn... I met you... nine years ago,” he muttered between their kisses, and Yifan pulled him up to be on top of him so Junmyeon wouldn’t die anytime soon. He continued kissing him with his hands palming the latter’s chest and waist and down to his bottom, before slipping his fingers into Junmyeon. The grips of Junmyeon’s nails were carving moon-shaped prints on his shoulders as Yifan reached the right spot.
“And since when... hnn... did you become so fucking needy?” Junmyeon returned the question a while later as Yifan was slamming him inside the now dried up bathtub. Some of the bubbles were still sticking on his nose, so Yifan leant in and licked them away, before he kissed Junmyeon hungrily and thrust slower and deeper inside him. The bruise on his inner thigh was stinging, but that’s not a big deal. He was already high on this drug named Kim Junmyeon, so he could just deal with the pain later.
“Since you left me alone in that stupid apartment nine years ago, so there’s a very thin line between being a passionate lover and a freaking sexual offender for me right now,” he whispered, biting Junmyeon’s left ear a bit too hard that it would definitely leave a scar tomorrow.
“Fuck.” Junmyeon deadpanned.
“Yes, fuck.” Yifan replied.
“So... you’re taking back the apartment?” Hae Ryung asked, carefully and in a defensive tone. Junmyeon laughed and shook his head.
“He’s too lazy to cancel the lease, don’t worry.”
Hae Ryung let out a relieved sigh.
“But he’s taking back the sofa.” Junmyeon said in a relaxed tone, and Hae Ryung laughed. She only stopped laughing when she realised Junmyeon wasn’t laughing along with her.
“Seriously?” She asked.
“Seriously.” He repeated.
"Junmyeon-ah?" Hae Ryung called his name as polite and as soft as she could, that it made Junmyeon a tad surprised.
“I knew I’m going to hate you one day.”