And the next thing he knows is that Yixing’s head is out the window and he’s shouting and waving at the clouds running above them, the wind flapping in his hair and tearing at his voice. Usually Junmyeon would smack him and demand that he sits back down before he hurts himself, but this time is delightful and free and Junmyeon feels light enough to open his own window and stick his hand out for the world to take; he doesn’t care that they’re inside a moving car and that they could lose a few limbs just by waiting with their hands hanging outside the safe space of the car. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone at all, because for some strange reason he’s feeling great and not even the world’s most powerful natural force could ruin his good mood at the moment.

Yixing sits back down in the passenger’s seat and re-adjusts his belt, his cheeks a rosy pink and his eyes twinkling happily. He’s breathing hard and his lungs drink life in as he leans back and closes his window, looking at Junmyeon fondly. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you this happy in a while,” he comments lightly, lacing his fingers with Junmyeon’s. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way, and he doesn’t mean to tease Junmyeon either, not at all. Zhang Yixing is made out of light and freedom and birds spreading their wings and flying away; it’s Junmyeon’s job to sit there and admire that about his husband, because he knows that he himself is made out of metal and salty ocean water, and those things are not even close to being as perfect as Zhang Yixing.

"I’m always happy when I’m with you," he suggests lightly, glancing at his husband with a simple smile on his lips. Yixing snorts and tightens his hold on Junmyeon’s hand, flapping down his sun shield as trees melt into a green mess on the sides of the road. "Bull. You’re also happy when you’re with Luhan."

Junmyeon lets out a big bark of laughter at that and takes a quick peek at his rearview mirror; their four year old son, Luhan, is sleeping peacefully in his seat, his hands clutching a big pillow and his head resting on his shoulder in a rather uncomfortable looking position. It’s an adorable sight and Junmyeon smiles happily, humming and tapping his fingers on the stirring wheel. “That’s different,” he explains. “Luhan’s my son, of course I’ll be happy whenever he’s around.”

"Oh yeah?" Yixing pouts and nudges Junmyeon’s side with his elbow playfully. "And what am I, a koala?"

"Allow me to roll my eyes," Junmyeon drawls back in his most sarcastic tone. He’s not really mad or frustrated; he just knows that Yixing thinks about everything and everyone all the time, and he just wants him to know that he’s loved. "You know I love you, right? Of course I’m happy whenever I’m with you."

There’s a short period of silence in which they both listen to the road whizzing beneath the wheels and the world brushes by them, and it’s a comfortable kind of silence, because they’re always comfortable with each other. Why shouldn’t they be?

Suddenly Yixing’s lips land on Junmyeon’s cheek and his fingers are holding Junmyeon’s surprisingly tight, and Junmyeon lets out a small “Eh” because what was that just now.

Yixing speaks after a few seconds. “Thank you for keeping up with me,” he says quietly, and Junmyeon’s heart cracks just a little because he sounds so small. Yixing never sounds small; he’s a mighty force that roars and rumbles and rolls around, but he’s never small. Junmyeon stares at the road ahead of them, watching the sun hanging low above the horizon, tinting the clouds pink and orange and a thousand shades of red. He clenches Yixing’s hand.

"I’m not keeping up with you, I’m leading you, you idiot," he shoots out. He’s not angry at all, but Yixing’s voice disturbed him and he’s really not okay with his husband being down. Luhan groans and stirs in the back seat and Junmyeon has to blink his tears away because he’s driving and just goddammit.

And suddenly Yixing is laughing and opening his window again, and Junmyeon blinks in surprise because his husband is so weird sometimes.

"What are you doing?" He shouts when Yixing sticks his head out of the window and yells out into the wild, young and uninhibited. Junmyeon can hear him laughing.

"I feel loved," Yixing yells back, and the sun flicks its brush and turns everything pink as Junmyeon reaches out of his window and lets the wind hit his hand and arm and soul, and now he’s yelling his lungs out as well.

Because for a minute, he feels like he’s made out of light and freedom and birds spreading their wings and flying away, too.