Music - ...You are the sunshine on a hard day...

AFTER THE YELLOW LETTERS

This is for Marya – for being a wonderful reader and an even more wonderful friend.  ^_^

A white curtain flutters in the chilly morning air and a stray ray of sunlight in shades of yellow sneaks in through the gap in to the room. It falls on a pile of clothes thrown over a chair and a table with a haphazard pile of papers, books and sticky notes and moves to spread over a wall almost completely covered with Polaroid pictures pasted on it without any rhyme or rhythm or pattern. The ray of bright light stealthily creeps over two lumps of figures occupying the bed, splatters over some abandoned socks on the ground before halting against the door of the room which is decorated with a colourful crayon drawing of three stick-figure people with heads too big for their bodies.

There is a small whining noise before something scratches against the door of the room. One of the sleeping figures on the bed grumbles at this noise and flops over in the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes to hide from the sunlight. A minute passes followed by another series of whines and scratches which are steadily ignored by the two gently snoring figures until the owner of the said whines and scratches decide to take matters into his own hands.

There is a couple of ‘thump’s before the door creaks open slightly, allowing the sneaky ray of sunlight to escape into the rest of the house. A pug-nosed white dog pads into the room, as if he owns it – he is not so small anymore, the passing years have done nothing but made him fatter and heavier and more spoilt. He wiggles his a few times, takes aim and jumps on to the bed – to somewhere right between the legs of one sleeping figure, probably squishing some very precious and sensitive body parts in the process, and the said figure gives a startled gasp of pain, complaining ‘Flooooofy! Dammit!’ The other however just snorts  and curls further into the man now frowning while trying to ignore the dog who is walking all over his stomach.

A few peaceful minutes pass and the three settle back into a half slumber. Sadly, this peace doesn’t last for all too long.

A small banging noise is coming from the room next to theirs. One sleeping figure grumbles again but ignores it. The banging noise gets louder and then there’s a soft ‘flump’. This doesn’t bode well. He pokes at the blonde figure next to him with his toes, who just curls into him even more and pretends not to feel it. He pokes harder.

There is a high pitched giggle and another thump followed by the sound of something tearing.

“Han.”

“No.”

“Haaaan.” He whines.

“He is your kid.” Comes the mumbled reply.

“He is your kid too!” Kris grumbles back.

 “Not at 6’ something in the morning.”

Kris huffs at this answer. He is about to kick a bit harder when Luhan suddenly runs a small hand across his chest and shifts his head slightly to place soft, warm lips right below Kris’ ear. All annoyance disappears and Kris melts right into the touch. Luhan runs a light finger up his bicep and the curve of his shoulder and places another kiss on his jaw line. Then another and another until stops inches away from meeting his lips. Kris moves instinctively in his direction but Luhan curls back into himself and moves away.

Kris groans. “Fine. Fine. I will check on him.”

Luhan grins into duvet, smug and satisfied.

Kris vents his frustration by pushing Floofy off the bed as he stumbles to the half open door that separates their two rooms and peeps in.

He had been their Christmas miracle. A tiny one year old left in the care of the child services centre that Chanyeol’s sister worked at. Parents gone in a flash, a few seconds of misjudgments on the slippery ice in the busy streets of Seoul one December and a toddler left barely hurt but orphaned. Kris had been there, passing by to give Chanyeol, Yura and Minseok their Christmas presents a little early- when he had seen the infant being brought in. Fluffy hair, eyes curved into half-moons and a giggle was all it took – it had been love at first sight.

It had been 2 years after Kris gave up his life in front of the cameras, 2 years since he had ended his contract with SM entertainment and moved away from the busy streets of Seoul to a quite neighborhood outside the city -  the same neighborhood he had run into barefoot one December nearly 8 years ago. Two years of just being Kris, Luhan's Kris – and as much as he loved that it was just the 2 of them he could not bear to leave the little child behind.

So he had carried the energetic toddler home and sat underneath the Christmas tree until Luhan got back home late from work that day. It was the 24th, the night before Christmas. Luhan had taken one look at them, blinking confusedly, before disappearing into the bathroom. Kris had nearly bitten his nails off in anxiety waiting for Luhan to come back. He had come back with water dripping down his face, and pinching his arm.

“Oh. So I really did see you there with a baby. I was so tired I thought I was hallucinating.”

The baby had wriggled in Kris’ arms and continued to play with the roll of ribbon in his hands, not knowing that his future was being decided right there in front of him.

“Uh..no, you really did see us.”

Luhan had stood there, blinking at him for a few minutes. “Well? An explanation would be nice?” it had been 8 years with Kris now and Luhan was still so lost sometimes. Kris was an impulse buyer, and sometimes would come home with the most ridiculous and unnecessary things just this past 2 years they had been officially living together and Luhan would get annoyed, frustrated and sometimes even angry but it would last no more than five minutes. The things Kris bought mostly ended up getting thrown away or piled into cardboard boxes and put away and that would be it. But here he was all of a sudden, with a baby in his arms. They had never talked about children, never thought about it like most couples do and this was a baby, another results of Kris’ impulses but not something that could be thrown away or wrapped up in a box in the garage.

“Just-you know-chanyeol-I was there- and yura was…well the Christmas presents, you know- so then I saw, really, Luhan I couldn’t bare to I mean look at him-so then I-”

Luhan rubbed tiredly at him temples and held up his hand to stop Kris’ explanation. Or rant. Or gibberish, whatever. For an experienced idol with years of training to speak perfectly in front of cameras Kris could be remarkably incoherent and disjointed sometimes. Yixing used to say it was better to listen to a toddler trying to explain the Marlow’s hierarchy of needs than listen Kris explain how to put on a tshirt.

Luhan had come to kneel in front of the toddler, watching him twisting a red ribbon in his little at fists apprehensively. Once the baby felt Luhan's gaze on him he had dropped the ribbon and turned such a steady gaze on him that Luhan started to feel mildly uncomfortable under the thorough scrutiny. Kris had grown increasingly uneasy about the baby’s stare until he had surprised them both; springing out of Kris’ arms suddenly into Luhan's shocked arms. Luhan had fumbled, unsure and stunned, but had managed to wrap his arms around the small baby and hold him to his chest tightly. Kris had watched Luhan's eyes grow wide and terrified when the baby nuzzled happily into his neck seeming to have deemed Luhan worthy of affection after his lengthy examination.

Kris had watched it all play