Jongin exhaled deeply as he followed Kyungsoo back into Café Noir. Baekhyun and Chanyeol were still seated in the same booth, and both of their heads immediately perked up when the ophthalmologist called out to them.

“You’re back!” Baekhyun squealed, jumping up and throwing himself onto Kyungsoo again.

The artist instantly flinched away, fists clenched by his side, as he bit his tongue to keep from spewing out any insulting remarks.

“Great!” Chanyeol chimed in as he also left the booth, reaching out to tug Kyungsoo towards him. “I haven’t finished telling you about—”

“I’m so sorry, Chanyeol, but do you think it could wait until another time?” the ophthalmologist interrupted, eyebrows furrowed apologetically. “I’ve still got a lot of work to catch up on before the clinic opens tomorrow and I wasn’t planning to be out this long.” He then sent his best friend a sweet, pleading smile. “So you can tell me next time? I promise I’ll be all yours then.”

Although Jongin had promised himself that he would rein in his irritation, his body involuntarily jerked and his teeth were beginning to grind against each other. No, he never wanted to be in the same room as Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun ever again.

“You’re leaving already?” The coffee shop owner pouted. “But the party’s just starting!”

“Work comes first,” Kyungsoo replied gently but firmly. “Next time, we can hang out longer,” he promised again.

“Are you leaving too, Jongin?” Baekhyun curiously asked, swiveling to face the artist.

Jongin nodded stiffly, not trusting his mouth to stay shut and refrain from releasing all of the insolent responses swirling at the tip of his tongue.

“Guess I’ll busk on the streets for a few hours then,” Chanyeol decided as he adjusted his guitar case over his back. “Gotta scrounge up rent money whenever I can,” he cheerfully added.

“And I’ll stay here by myself,” Baekhyun dramatically lamented, letting his lower lip wobble as he hugged Kyungsoo.

The ophthalmologist patted his friend on the back and chuckled lightly. “You have Yeonjung to keep you company, you big baby. I’ll text you tonight, okay?”

“Don’t forget to text me too!” Chanyeol piped up as he threw his arms around both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo. He then turned his head and grinned at the artist, beckoning him over with his chin. “Come join us, Jongin!”

“No thank you,” the artist bit out shortly.

Kyungsoo expertly wiggled out of his friends’ embrace before saying, “I promise to text you both and make dinner plans later, okay?” He then made a show of checking his gold-plated watch and widening his eyes. “I really have to get back home now though.” The ophthalmologist looked up again and smiled at his friends while waving to them as he surreptitiously began nudging Jongin towards the exit. “Talk to you soon!”

Chanyeol sent him a two-finger salute. “See ya, Kyungsoo!”

“Bye, Kyungsoo! Miss you already!” Baekhyun trilled.

Once they were out of the coffee shop, Jongin allowed his scowl to fully deepen and he muttered, “God, that was painful,” under his breath.

The ophthalmologist winced. “My sincere apologies, Jongin. I didn’t realize my friends had made that bad of an impression on you.”

Realizing how insensitive his comment had been, Jongin hastily backtracked. “Er, they’re not terrible or anything like that,” he amended with a pinched expression. “Just… Just…” But he was unable to come up with anything that didn’t sound horribly offensive to them.

“It’s alright, I understand,” Kyungsoo said with a lopsided smile. “They didn’t exactly showcase themselves in the best light today.”

As much as he agreed with the statement, Jongin couldn’t help but feel tendrils of guilt wiggle in upon hearing the ophthalmologist’s defeated tone.

It wasn’t like he was the paragon of excellent behavior either. Who was he to judge Park Chanyeol and Byun Baekhyun for their…less than tolerable flirtations?

As much as he wanted to, Jongin couldn’t deny his own uncouth behavior towards others in the past, including the ophthalmologist. And Kyungsoo had graciously excused him more times than he probably should have for arguably much worse grievances than being a lovesick fool. Not that Jongin would ever showcase himself in such a shameless manner.

The thought of it caused involuntary shudders to run down the artist’s back.

In any case, Park Chanyeol and Byun Baekhyun were out of his hair now. With luck, he would never have to see them again.

As long as Jongin stayed in his circle and they stayed in theirs, they would never have to cross paths ever again.

If Yixing wanted to sit around in a coffee shop for fun, he could drag Jongdae with him to Café Noir instead. Jongin was never going to step foot in that tacky establishment ever again.

If Chanyeol wanted to invite more people to watch Kyungsoo sing at the Chat-Shire, he could find someone else who’d actually listen to the guitarist yap away like a siren.

The faint memories of Kyungsoo’s velvety vocals suddenly echoed in the back of Jongin’s mind and his fists curled at his side.

No, it wasn’t worth it.

He could listen to professional singers any time he wanted to on his computer at home in the comfort of his living room.

An amateur bar show was nothing to needlessly expend energy for.

Especially when Park Chanyeol was involved.

“Is everything okay, Jongin?” Kyungsoo quietly asked, jolting the spacey artist out of his reverie. His eyebrows were drawn together with worry as he glanced at the taller male, whose neck instantly flushed red.

“Yeah, sorry, I just… Uh, I was trying to…remember what Yixing wanted me to buy, since I forgot to write it down earlier,” he lamely fibbed.

“Oh, okay. Well, shall we go grocery shopping then?” Kyungsoo kindly asked, gesturing to his silver BMW M5 that was parked along the sidewalk.

Jongin nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and followed him into the car.

--

“So what kind of fruit are you getting?” the ophthalmologist curiously asked as he began steering an empty shopping cart into the spacious grocery store.

“Uh…” Jongin’s eyes darted around the brightly lit aisles in panic before settling on the most eye-catching fruit on display. “Bananas!”

Kyungsoo followed the artist’s gaze and nodded as he steered towards the aisle. “I should grab a bunch as well,” he cheerfully commented. “Is there anything else you’re going to buy?”

“Er, cherries…apricots…kiwis…blackberries…plums…strawberries…” Jongin clumsily scooped boxes of each fruit into his arms as he randomly listed them.

“Seems like you’re getting an entire fruit rainbow,” the ophthalmologist joked as he reached over to help offload some of the groceries into his shopping cart. “Will you be able to eat everything before it goes bad?”

A look of chagrin etched itself on Jongin’s face and he just about dumped the rest of the fruits into the shopping cart, as if they were hot stones burning his hands. “Well, um, I won’t be eating them all myself. But, uh, Yixing and Jongdae will probably eat a bunch. Especially Jongdae. He’s always hungry,” the artist rambled while he internally cursed himself for continually digging his own grave when he was around Kyungsoo.

The other male only laughed as he neatly organized all of Jongin’s selections to the side before picking his own fruits to add to the shopping cart as well. “He’s lucky to have such a considerate brother who looks out for his appetite,” the ophthalmologist commented as he grabbed a box of raspberries.

Jongin ducked his head down, the back of his neck burning once more. “He’s just…annoying when he’s hungry. That’s all,” he mumbled, keeping his gaze fixed on the dusty linoleum floor.

“It’s a step in the right direction though,” Kyungsoo cheerily said as he pushed his shopping cart forward. “And I’m sure he’ll reciprocate the gesture later on.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” the artist muttered under his breath.

Luckily, Kyungsoo was out of earshot at that point. The ophthalmologist was busily combing through a pile of lemons, inspecting each one before adding them to a small cardboard tray.

Before joining him, Jongin briefly shook himself to chase away all of the jitters and then exhaled deeply.

All they were doing was shopping for fruit. It wasn’t rocket science. It wasn’t life or death.

It was a simple errand that he had upon himself and he was going to pull himself together like the mature adult he was.

Never mind that the last time he had stepped foot in a grocery store was when he still lived in Paris. Never mind that he had no idea if the fruit he had picked was of good quality or even needed at home.

Good god, Jongdae was going to laugh his frightfully empty head off if he ever found out why his younger brother was bringing home an entire mountain of fruit.

“Jongin, is there anything else you need?” Kyungsoo’s calm, smooth voice suddenly pierced through the fog that was beginning to swirl within the artist’s head. When Jongin looked at him, gaze refocusing on the ophthalmologist’s big brown eyes, Kyungsoo smiled kindly and gestured around the large store. “I think I’m done, but we can get whatever else you need while we’re still here.”

“No!” the artist yelped, tongue stumbling while his thoughts tumbled around his mind like marbles in a pit. “I mean, we... We can go,” he messily managed to stutter out when Kyungsoo’s expression changed to one of concern. “I—I’ve got enough.”

“Okay…” the shorter male slowly said. Once they made their way to the nearest checkout aisle, Kyungsoo handed over his credit card before the cashier could start scanning any products. “Everything can be charged on this card,” he informed her before Jongin could react.

He wanted to bash his head into the ground, having completely forgotten the ophthalmologist’s insistence on paying for the groceries earlier. And because Jongin’s brain had conveniently decided to completely turn itself off during this entire ordeal, now the bill was going to be sky-high and he’d be indebted to Kyungsoo once more, even though the shorter male would most likely insist that they were still even.

Jongin knew he could probably physically overpower the ophthalmologist and get his credit card swiped through the machine instead. But he had no desire to make a scene in such a public place, especially since his head was still in a daze.

So the artist reluctantly watched the cashier swipe Kyungsoo’s credit card after all of the fruit had been scanned and the ophthalmologist smiled triumphantly as he signed his name on the bottom of the receipt.

After neatly folding the receipt and tucking it in his wallet, Kyungsoo began pushing the shopping cart out of the grocery store and Jongin followed the other male all the way to his car.

As soon as the shopping cart stopped, the artist started looping his arms through the handles of his designated grocery bags.

“Wait, are you planning to wait here,” Kyungsoo gestured around the parking lot, “with all of that?”

Jongin nodded, straightening up after he picked up his last bag of fruit. “My manager will come pick me up after I call him,” he said, shifting his arms so that the heavy grocery bags weren’t putting as much of a strain on his muscles.

“I can give you a ride back home instead,” Kyungsoo offered.

“No, no, it’s fine!” the artist hastily replied. “I can wait for Yixing here. Besides, don’t you have work to do?”

“It won’t take long to drop you off,” the ophthalmologist easily countered. “I have to drive in that direction anyway. There’s no need to bother your manager when your place is on the way.”

“Are—are you sure?”

Kyungsoo beamed brightly. “Trust me. It’s no problem at all.”

Unable to come up with any other reason to reject the kind offer, the artist exhaled loudly in surrender. “Alright then… Thanks, Kyungsoo. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course! Happy to help!” the ophthalmologist cheerfully replied as he unlocked the car trunk and began showing the grocery bags inside on the left. He then beckoned for Jongin to place his on the right side. Once everything was safely tucked inside the car, Kyungsoo securely shut the trunk door and dusted off hands. “Shall we go?”

Jongin nodded and sent him a small smile. “Let’s go.”

--

Yixing’s surprise was palpable when Jongin suddenly walked into the house with several bags of fruits hanging off of his arms. “I don’t remember asking you to go grocery shopping.”

“You didn’t,” the artist replied, his voice high and thin. “Now hurry up and help me get these to the kitchen. My arms are about to fall off.”

The Chinese male hurriedly slid some of the bags onto his own arms to alleviate the weight and followed Jongin into the kitchen. “Why on earth did you buy so much fruit then? You’re not going to eat it all, are you?”

“Of course not,” the artist answered with a snort.

“Then why?” Yixing repeated.

“Because… Because…” Jongin’s voice suddenly caught in this throat.

There was no way he could explain the actual circumstances behind his impulsive purchase. Yixing would question him until dawn. And the artist couldn’t even blame him for wanting to do so. After all, what kind of idiot lied about needing groceries?

“I… I dunno,” he finally managed to mumble, keeping his gaze fixed on the fruit as he began transporting them into the refrigerator. “I thought we didn’t have any at home, so I bought some on my way back. The grocery store was close by,” Jongin added, as if that would somehow strengthen his terrible lie.

“That—that’s very thoughtful of you,” Yixing answered, visibly taken aback as he watched his friend continue organizing the fruit in the refrigerator. “Thank you, Jongin.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “Please don’t ever mention it. Seriously.”

“Um, okay…” Yixing then scooped down to grab the bag of plums. “Shall we eat some now? We can have an afternoon snack together, since it’s still too early for dinner.”

The artist stepped back from the refrigerator and let the door close shut. As Jongin dusted his hands against his pants, he nodded in response. “Sure.”

“I’ll make some tea as well,” Yixing offered while slowly pouring the plums into an empty bowl.

Jongin carelessly shrugged. “Go ahead.”

The manager beamed happily. “Great! But, before I get started on that,” Yixing grabbed a large metal pot and placed it in the sink, “we need to properly wash off the wax on the plums first.” He then the tap and water began steadily jetting into the pot. “Can you keep an eye on this for me, please?”

The artist nodded. “How high do you want it?”

Yixing paused and thought for a moment before answering, “A little over halfway should be enough. We can always add more if it’s too low.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Jongin leaned against the counter with his eyes trained on the metal pot.

Meanwhile, Yixing rummaged through the kitchen cabinets before letting out a triumphant, “Aha!” and pulling out a stainless steel tea kettle. He set it next to the artist before reaching back in for a cylindrical box.

Jongin did a double-take, eyes wide as saucers, before letting out a deep sigh and relaxing his shoulders.

It was just a box of regular loose leaf tea.

He really was starting to lose his mind.

There was no way Yixing would have the same box of sugukcha that the artist had anonymously gifted Kyungsoo a month ago. His manager had never stepped foot in Floral Splendor, at least not to Jongin’s knowledge.

And it was going to stay that way. Hopefully.

The artist suddenly wondered if Kyungsoo had ended up liking the gift. At the very least, Jongin hoped the ophthalmologist hadn’t tossed it into the trash. Not right away.

Not that Jongin would ever know.

However, even though it was just thirty thousand won, a mere drop in the vast bucket that was Kim Jongin’s bank account, the artist hadn’t put that much thought or effort into a present in years. Kyungsoo wasn’t obligated to enjoy it.

But…a small part of Jongin still hoped that he did.

If only as reassurance that the artist hadn’t wasted an entire afternoon of his life for nothing.

Jongin was so caught up in thinking about the hydrangea tea he had sent to Kyungsoo that the artist completely forgot about the metal pot he was currently holding. It wasn’t until Yixing yelped, “Jongin, the water!” that the artist was jarred out of his stupor and he hurriedly turned back to flick off the tap before the pot could overflow.

“Oops, sorry about that,” Jongin mumbled as he hauled the metal pot out of the sink. “Uh, should I go water the plants outside or something so that the water isn’t wasted?”

“We can add the extra water to the kettle, since I need it to make the tea anyway,” the manager answered as he removed the lid to the tea kettle and gestured to the empty container. After Jongin transferred the excess water to the kettle, Yixing motioned for the artist to set the metal pot on the stove. Once the pot and the tea kettle were placed on adjacent hobs, Yixing switched on the induction stove and adjusted the heat for both hobs before returning to the box of hydrangea tea. “You can drop the plums into the pot once the water starts boiling,” the manager instructed as he carefully scooped out dried tea leaves into two ceramic mugs. “After ten seconds, you can take them out and wash them once more in the sink.”

“Is it really necessary to go through all of this?” Jongin asked, arching an eyebrow while keeping his gaze trained on the induction stove. “It’s just fruit. It’s not like raw meat or anything that needs bacteria completely cooked out of it.”

“Jongin, have you not been properly washing the fruit you eat?” Yixing asked, a touch of alarm coloring his tone.

The artist grimaced at the thought as he recalled all of the apples he had eaten in the past, completely unskinned and barely rinsed out of laziness. “…Maybe.”

“Jongin!”

“What? It’s not like I’ll die from eating it.”

“Maybe not, but the glaucous wax—”

“The what?”

“The glaucous wax,” Yixing patiently repeated as he placed the lid back onto the box of tea. “It’s basically synthetic wax that fruit sellers coat their products with to safely extend the shelf life.”

“This wax looks nothing like glaucous,” the artist pointed out, critically eyeing the bowl of plums with renewed purpose. “It’s translucent, yes, but glaucous? Where’s the blue? Where’s the gray?”

Yixing only sighed and rubbed his forehead.

After giving the plums another stern once-over, Jongin flippantly continued, “In any case, it can’t be that bad if the Ministry of Food and Drug Safety allows grocery stores to sell fruit that’s covered in this stuff.”

“Glaucous wax can still harm your digestive system,” the Chinese male insisted. “Even if it’s technically edible, you can actually develop respiratory problems or stomach ulcers if the wax coating isn’t removed.”

“Tch, since when did you become a doctor?” the artist grumbled.

“It’s called taking care of your health, Jongin,” Yixing smartly responded.

Before Jongin could retort back, steam began hissing out of both apparatuses on the stove. So the manager slipped on an oven mitt and grabbed the tea kettle while Jongin picked up the fruit bowl and began dropping the plums into the water. He silently counted to ten before fishing them out with a ladle and ing them one-by-one underneath a jet of cool water. The skins naturally began peeling off, so Jongin carefully removed them from the fruits and then placed the bare plums into a clean bowl.

When the artist turned away from the sink with a full bowl of fruit in hand, he found Yixing holding a tray with a china teapot decorated in pale blue swirls and two gray ceramic mugs sitting on top. The manager motioned towards the living room with his head, so Jongin carefully followed him and they settled comfortable onto the couch.

“I’ll let the tea steep for a few minutes more,” Yixing said, lightly tapping the side of the teapot. “And thank you for peeling the plums.”

“No problem. It was easy,” Jongin replied nonchalantly as he picked one up from the bowl.

Yixing followed suit and both men were soon nibbling on the sweet fruit in silence. After a few minutes, the manager timidly asked, “How was your day out?”

“Fine.”

Several more minutes passed.

“Did…you do anything interesting?”

Jongin took a sip of tea. “Not really.”

Yixing nodded, trying—unsuccessfully—to hide his wince. “Oh.”

They continued eating in silence.

As Jongin began polishing off the last plum, the Chinese male tentatively asked, “Do you have more plans to go out again soon?”

The artist paused mid-bite for a brief second before chomping down and chewing the sweet fruit, expending much more effort and energy than he usually would for such a mindless task. Once he finished swallowing, Jongin lowered his arm and coolly answered, “Not that I know of. Why?”

“I…think it helped put you in a better mood,” Yixing explained, his voice laced with hesitance as he carefully gauged the artist’s reaction. When Jongin didn’t bite back, the manager slowly continued, “You usually don’t help me out in the kitchen, but you did so without me asking this time. And you didn’t complain either.”

“Do you really think I’m that inconsiderate of a person?”

“No, no, of course not,” the Chinese male said, laughing nervously and waving his hands in front of him. “It was…just an observation!” As he settled his hands in his lap, Yixing then softly smiled. “I’m…glad you’re feeling better though.”

Jongin grunted before wolfing down the last half of the plum. He tossed the pit into the now-empty fruit bowl before grabbing a napkin and wiping away the sticky remnants of juice on his hands. Dropping the dirty napkin into the bowl as well, the artist shoved his hands into his pockets and began padding up the stairs to shut himself into his bedroom.

Yixing wore a lopsided smile as he watched Jongin gradually disappear from view before standing and picking up the bowl. “Well, at least it’s a start,” he commented to himself before heading into the kitchen.

♈♈♈