For the first time, Jongdae is not going to sleep with his barrage of alarms set at five minute intervals due to go off in 4 hours. He has been slipping into bed and pulling the covers over himself only a couple of hours before sunrise everyday for the past week because his boss is the spawn of satan and dumped piles upon piles of work on him that he has been working his off to finish.

Well, that’s what he would like to say. 

Almost halfway through his twenties, Jongdae would like to be able to say that he is definitely a productive adult with a fully-fledged life and a fantastically paying job that would make his parents proud, and that he would lose sleep to labour over work because he is just that dedicated. He would also like to hide the fact that the darkening circles beneath his eyes are not due to the fact he has been binge-watching Descendants of the Sun. Definitely not.

The point is, he is positively confused when his phone blasts off at full sound moments after his eyelids fall shut from fatigue. He taps around on his phone screen, right where the snooze button should be but his phone does not shut up at all. Swearing, he pushes himself up, yanks the charging cord out of his phone and squints at it. It’s take another minute or so for Jongdae’s vision to focus and make out the outlines of a face and a brown ball of fluff staring at him.

It’s a call from Jongin. 

Jongdae presses the green ‘answer’ button and flops back onto his bed, phone held against his ear. 

“Hello?” comes Jongin’s frantic voice. “Jongdae can you please pick me up? I’m at the hospital.” 

He is speaking so goddamn fast and Jongdae can’t properly comprehend his words at 3am in the morning. Jongdae barely manages to squeeze in a “Why?” let alone a “Why the are you calling me up at this ungodly hour” before he is interrupted by Jongin’s next barrage of speech. 

“Please hurry! I don’t think I can last much longer.” 

Jongdae curses at his choices of a best friend as he rolls out of bed, slips on a pair of track pants and an oversized hoodie and slides into his blue Hyundai i30, driving to the hospital. Even though he has terrible sleeping habits, he has wonderful morals. If he were a little more awake, he would pat himself on the back for being selfless enough to prioritise his friend’s health over his own. 

But no, his eyes are drooping downwards and he has more irritation pulsing through him than worry for Jongin. He has to pinch himself every so often and turn the radio on full blast with some disgusting bubblegum pop song to keep himself from falling asleep. If he gets his license revoked for negligible driving it’s all ing Kim Jongin’s fault. 

When he finally pulls into the hospital parking and leaves his car under a tree, horribly double-parked and slanted, he rushes in to find Jongin sitting with his leg propped up against the waiting room seats with a frown as he stares at the cast plastered around his ankle. 

“I thought you had done something serious.” Jongdae narrows his eyes at Jongin and crosses his arms. 

“I have done something serious,” whines Jongin and alright Jongdae will admit seeing as Jongin is a dancer and all and it’s basically his job to have very healthy and perfectly working legs, having a leg injury is very serious but Jongdae is also an and he hasn’t forgotten the loving warmth of his bed or the current time. 

“Okay, but did you really have to get me out here at 3am? You should’ve called Sehun,” groans Jongdae. 

“Well I did, but did you really think he picked up? That kid sleeps like a ing pig,” Jongin mutters. 

“Fair point.” 

Jongdae helps Jongin hobble to the car because Jongin really, really can’t walk in crutches (and also because Jongdae is sick of Jongin’s constant “my armpits hurt”). It’s a miracle that Jongin has never broken his leg in all his 23 years of living considering how recklessly he dances. 

When they finally get to Jongdae’s Hyundai, Jongin stares blankly. 

“Did you always this much at parking?” remarks Jongin. 

“Did you always this much at dancing?”  

❇ 

 

Half asleep as usual, Jongdae yawns as he stumbles into the florist at which he works with outstretched arms. As he’s running the daily morning errands and readying the store for its nine o’clock opening, his phone buzzes. 

It’s a text from Jongin. 

When are you done with work???? 

He thumbs back: 

Should be around 2 today
Why? 

Can you come over? 

I’m not going to nurse you back to health if that’s what you want 

No I’m being serious 

I’ll be there at around 2:30

 

Jongdae locks his phone and shoves it into the back pocket of his jeans. 

There isn’t a day Jongdae can justify that he made the right choice moving away from home. At first, back when he was naïve at eighteen years old, it had seemed like a good idea, and he’d bargained with his parents. If he was to study the course they wished him to, they would let him move to the urban city that never sleeps (disclaimer: not New York City). Freshly out of university with a Business Administrative degree, his parents saw him off with the hopes that he would start his own flourishing life in Seoul fit with a spacious apartment, perhaps a partner, and a good job. 

And there are many different ways to interpret the definition of a ‘good job.’ In his parent’s eyes, a good job consisted of stability and above average salary, so long as he could live comfortably. Being the filial son he is, Jongdae does try to fulfil this, sending out cover letters and resumes when he can, flashing his best smile in interviews; but he never ends up in those multi-levelled buildings with artificial light. 

Ideally, Jongdae would be a songwriter, a singer if he dared to go that far. But it’s an unstable job and would probably welcome a future where he will need to live off greasy fast food and ramyun to struggle paying off his rent unless he makes it big, and Jongdae doesn’t have the optimism to chase a dream like that. Sometimes, when he works closing time shifts and he stands alone in the dimming room of the florist, he wishes that he was as good at songwriting as Jongin was at dancing, so he could do what he loved too. 

The bell rings and a tinkle echoes throughout the small florist. Jongdae looks up from picking at his nails to see a very determined Sehun slapping two 10,000 won notes on the counter and demanding, “I need a bouquet of flowers to break up with Lu Han.” 

“What’s this? The fifth time now?” Jongdae shakes his head in disapproval. But nevertheless, he goes off to arrange it. 

While Jongdae wanders about the store picking out flowers, Sehun stands by the counter complaining about the latest fight between him and Lu Han. Jongdae’s brain is now used to Sehun’s whining voice and has programmed itself to make sure his words go through one ear and straight out of the other. 

“He’s always so dramatic,” laments Sehun. “I don’t understand why he can’t be chill like me.” 

“I think you’re the dramatic one, Sehun,” comments Jongdae. In all the times that he has met Lu Han (and the number count has risen above the twenties), the guy has never struck Jongdae as dramatic. Only funny and warm and smart, and completely out of Sehun’s league. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud bark and Jongdae almost drops the flowers in his hand. He spins around to glare accusingly at Sehun and the white bichon frise perched innocently beside his feet and yells, “I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO BRING VIVI IN.” 

Sehun frowns at Jongdae. “But I can’t just leave her outside.”

“Yes you can.” Jongdae points through the glass door at the salt and pepper schnauzer currently tied to a leg of the bench on the street in front of the store.

“Jongdae, I’m going through a crisis right now. Can you just be supportive for once.” 

Jongdae finishes arranging the bouquet. It consists of a few blue hyacinths, purple tulips and a selection of pale cool-toned roses. He twists some wire around the stems, wraps the bouquet in white cellophane and perfects it by tying a ribbon around it. He attaches the silver-bordered card Sehun pens a message on and tells him, “I’m going to need 40,000 won for that.” 

“But I’m your friend,” pouts Sehun. 

“Okay.” Jongdae nods. “Your point?” 

Sehun sighs and digs out two more crumpled 10,000 won notes and slides them across the counter. 

“Do you want to pay in advance for the bouquet you’re going to buy when you ask him out again in a week’s time?” Jongdae asks, fully serious, as the till slides open. 

“It’s final this time. Goodbye forever,” Sehun says dramatically. 

“I’m charging you 50,000 when you come in,” Jongdae deadpans and waves him goodbye. 

Sehun is his most eventful customer that day. A couple of people trickle into the store to purchase assortments of flowers for anniversaries, for thank yous, or just to display at home. It’s a slow day, with Jongdae mostly serving regular ajummas who like to pinch him on the cheeks with a toothy smile to express their gratitude for his arrangements. 

Just as a man wearing a navy trench coat fixed with black buttons walks in (and god does Jongdae think he’s gorgeous), his coworker taps in on the shoulder. He flashes Jongdae an awkward smile and signals at the time. 

Life hates him. 

The clock on the wall reads 2 o’clock. 

It takes him a full minute to sigh and push his way to the backroom, cursing under his breath the entire time he shrugs off his apron and gathers his belongings. He waves a goodbye to his coworker and as he’s leaving, he catches the man bundled up in the trench coat ask at the counter, “I wanted to get some get well soon flowers for a friend?” Jongdae convinces himself that he’ll serve him another day because someone with a voice that sounds like honey and melted chocolate will surely be nice enough to buy his friend get well soon flowers multiple times.  

 

❇

 

Jongdae bangs his fist on Jongin’s door several times, earning him reddening skin and complete silence. 

It takes Jongin a grand total of eleven minutes and forty-two seconds – and no, Jongdae wasn’t counting at all, he just happens to be incredibly observant – to let him into the humble abode of his home. Trust him, Jongin’s apartment was as humble as you could get. 

No matter how important a guest was coming over (not that Jongin had many of those, anyway), the entire apartment would be a mess. There would be greasy dishes, pans and cutlery piled up in a mound rising from the sink; clothes strewn across the floor and couches, and the remnants of yesterday’s poor attempt at dinner stuck on the ceiling above.

“Could you be any slower,” Jongdae snaps. 

“Please ask me that after you’ve tried walking in crutches,” Jongin defends, one silver crutch lifted high in the air pointed at Jongdae. 

“I broke my leg when I was thirteen, I know how it feels and I was never that slow.” 

Jongin is exasperated. “Different people have different strengths and weaknesses. Don’t bully people who are slow on crutches.” 

“I’ll try my best.” Jongdae brushes aside a grey towel (is that blood he sees?) on the couch haphazardly and sinks down, leaning against a cushion that he vaguely remembers gifting Jongin as a housewarming gift. He asks expectantly, “So what did you call me over here for?” 

It takes Jongin a while to start speaking. He rocks back and forth, trying to delay broaching the topic. Finally, he starts, “So you know my side job, the one where I walk dogs?” 

“Mm yeah,” hums Jongdae. 

“Well, I can’t walk them because of this bloody sprained ankle.” Jongin gestures to his bandaged ankle. “But the dogs still need to be walked.” 

“Uh huh.” Jongdae has an ominous feeling about where this conversation is headed. His instincts are always right, and so Jongin’s next lines should be something along the lines of– 

“Can you walk them for me?” 

“No can do,” Jongdae spits out the words faster than lightning and shakes his head. 

As expected, Jongin is slow to give up. He pouts and pulls Monggu up onto his lap and commands for his dog to stare Jongdae down with those sad puppy eyes until he gives in. 

“No,” Jongdae repeats firmly. “I didn’t sign up for this when I agreed to be your friend eight years ago.” 

“A very wonderful friend.” 

“A very wonderful friend, indeed,” agrees Jongdae. “But not as generous and loving as you want.” 

Jongin sits opposite Jongdae with a very constipated look on his face, features twisted up like he is desperately in need of the toilet. He scratches the back of his neck as he says slowly, “You kind of can’t say no because I already phoned everyone up to tell them about my injury, and that it was going to be okay because my really extraordinary, gracious, kind-hearted, overall angel friend was going to help me out and walk them instead!” His lips pull into a wide smile, beaming at Jongdae. 

“Kim Jongin,” Jongdae seethes through gritted teeth. 

“I’ll owe you,” Jongin offers, wincing at Jongdae’s oncoming wrath. 

They’re interrupted by soft rhythmic raps on the door and a gentle voice calling out, “Jongin-ah, it’s Junmyeon.” 

Jongin stands up immediately, grateful to escape the tense atmosphere, to hobble to the door on his crutches. Jongdae is temporarily distracted from the problem at hand, more than just a little bit offended because Jongin gets to the door in only seven minutes. Where was that kind of love for Jongdae, who has had to deal with Jongin for eight years and has been shoved, without his consent, into covering the guy’s side job. 

From the living room, Jongdae hears a: “You didn’t have to! These look nice, but they’re probably really out of place in my dingy apartment.” 

He strains to hear the reply, “I thought it would be hard to get some fresh air on your crutches so I thought I would bring the fresh air to you.” 

Jongdae snorts. Where did Jongin find a friend like this. 

Jongin trudges back, guest in tow and a large bouquet balanced in one hand. 

“Jongdae, this is Junmyeon, my colleague from the studio.” 

Now these are the times that Jongdae is thankful he can stay calm even when everything in his body shuts down and his heart starts pounding at a million beats per second. He nods at Junmyeon, clad in a navy trench coat with black buttons, or more commonly known as the cute guy fate cruelly didn’t allow Jongdae to serve. 

Life actually loves him. 

“I’m Jongdae,” he extends a hand out, which Junmyeon takes with a warm smile, and Jongdae vaguely wonders if he should mention that he had seen him at the flower shop but is preoccupied by the smoothness of the man’s hands. 

“He’s going to be walking the dogs for me,” Jongin explains to Junmyeon. 

“Oh great!” Junmyeon’s smile grows wider and Jongdae swears his heart threatens to stop beating right then and there. “We can do it together then.” 

Fortunately, despite how hectic he is on the inside, Jongdae still manages to remain socially ept and keeps the conversation from turning awkward. He laughs, “Yeah, you’ll probably have to help me.” 

“All good.” Junmyeon checks his silver watch and it’s almost as shiny as his white teeth when he smiles but not quite. “Sorry, I would love to stay, but I need to get back to the studio. Get well soon, Jongin. See you later, Jongdae, it was nice meeting you.” 

His eyes follow Junmyeon’s retreating figure and once he hears the door shut, he warns Jongin, “You owe me big for this.” But his voice is weak and his eyes are still in a daze. 

 

❇

 

It’s nearing the end of March and Seoul has begun to warm up, the sun returning as a regular visitor in the sky. 

Jongdae blames the weather when he feels a slick layer of sweat beading on the back of his neck after he all but rushes over to Jongin’s apartment the moment he finishes up with his shift at the florist on Wednesday afternoon. When Jongdae is finally let in (Jongin is still the world’s slowest person on crutches), he expects one brown poodle to greet him excitedly. He miscalculated the presence of another brown poodle and a white one. 

“My sisters dropped off Jjanggu and Jjangah,” Jongin clarifies. 

“I figured.” Jongdae nods weakly as he attempts to pry away the poodles scratching at his leg. 

“So,” drawls Jongin. “You look nice.” 

“I always look nice.” He doesn’t, but that’s beside the point. 

“No, but you look nice today. What’s the special occasion?” Jongdae wishes he could slap that -eating grin off of Jongin’s face. 

He settles for, “ off.” 

Jongin bursts into laughter and clutches his stomach, “You’re literally taking a couple of dogs for a walk, you didn’t need to gel your hair.” 

Jongdae doesn’t really know where he went wrong to end up with such a terrible best friend. He swears he is going to strangle the man, and he is very ready to, mentally prepared himself for the accusation of homicide and the idea of prison, when someone knocks on the door. In hindsight, that was a good thing. 

Jongin opens the door to reveal Junmyeon carrying a fluffy brown and white dog (“Her name is Byul,” Jongin had said earlier) and that is all Jongdae can say because he’s not well-versed in anything related to dogs, and that means his knowledge of breeds is very limited. 

“Ready to go?” asks Junmyeon. 

“Ah, yep.” Jongdae wipes his sweaty hands on his pants, forging this as the act of smoothing out the non-existent creases on his already pristine pants. Jongin clips red leashes onto all the poodles’ collars and hands them to Jongdae. 

Jongin mouths at him, “Good luck.” 

It’s definitely for the dog-walking. 

“You look nice today,” Junmyeon mentions once they’re out of Jongin’s apartment. He pauses and looks at Jongdae thoughtfully, “Did you change up your hair or something like that?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m just trying something new,” Jongdae says hurriedly, hoping that his cheeks won’t betray his image. His heart is racing uncontrollably, though, from the prospect that Junmyeon has noticed the difference in his appearance. He reaches up impulsively to ruffle up his hair, the styled hair an unusual weight to bear on his head. 

“It looks good,” says Junmyeon with a grin. 

They make easy conversation, Junmyeon talking about their work at the studio and Jongin’s mishaps. It’s weird to hear about the professional side of Jongin, and the idea of the guy ever being serious. Even though Jongdae has grown up attending all of Jongin’s showcases in the front row and cheering as his obligatory number one fan, it still feels strange to hear others’ admiration for him. Jongdae exchanges his own fair share of stories, hands flying wildly (with the leashes still gripped, of course) as he retells all the adventures they got up to during high school. Junmyeon’s eyes will crinkle at the sides when he smiles and Jongdae thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And don’t even get him started on the velvet smooth tone of Junmyeon’s laugh. 

It doesn’t take long at all for Jongdae to come to the conclusion that Junmyeon is the epitome of sunshine. 

Every so often, Junmyeon will notice the apartment complex they’re passing by and ask him to pause mid-conversation and collect dogs from various ajummas across the city. Jongdae finds out he’s not the only person who is completely taken by Junmyeon’s smile as the middle-aged women attempt to gift him with boxes of their homemade kimchi and steamed buns. 

Soon, they’re each holding about seven different leashes for the dogs and Jongdae is close to having a panic attack because he’s not sure what to do with the seven dogs he is walking simultaneously. Some prefer to linger behind and take their time as they wander from side to side, sniffing at the pavement, while some are rushing forward. Others decide it is imperative that they pee on every third tree they see. 

And while Jongdae is trying to make sense of the entire situation, his arms pulled in all directions, Monggu decides that it would be a revolutionary idea to poop in the middle of the sidewalk. 

He doesn’t know how Junmyeon is doing it or how Jongin does it, but apparently Jongdae mustn’t have been born with the same talent of dog-walking like they were. As he reaches for the plastic bag in his pocket to pick up Monggu’s poop, he accidentally loses his grip on one of the leashes and the maltese who has been itching to move forward sprints off around the corner. 

Great. What a cherry on top of a perfect situation. 

“,” he curses under his breath as he makes a run for the dog. 

“Jongdae, you need to pick up Monggu’s poop!” he hears Junmyeon call after him but okay poop can wait until later, this dog, however, cannot. What if he runs onto the road and is hit by a car? Or what if he runs into a– 

–white bichon frise? 

“Hi Jongdae, what are you doing here?” 

It’s Sehun. 

“Hello to you too, Sehun.” Jongdae snatches the leash of the maltese who is now distracted, socialising with Vivi. 

“Since when have you owned six dogs and Monggu?” Sehun asks. 

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “I’m walking them for Jongin.” 

“Oh ,” Sehun gasps, and then he bends down to pet each the dogs’ heads. “Sorry dogs, you didn’t deserve to live like this.” 

“What is your point, Sehun?” 

“Jongdae,” Junmyeon pants, breathless, as he catches up to Jongdae with a black plastic bag in hand. “I picked up the poop.” 

Sehun gives Junmyeon a once over and raises an eyebrow, “Who’s this?” 

“Junmyeon,” introduces Jongdae, “A colleague of Jongin’s at the studio.”

“Oh hi,” greets Sehun. “You’re cute. Jongdae is finally getting some.” 

“Sehun, please.” Jongdae pinches the guy. 

“Ow, I’m sorry.” Sehun swats away Jongdae’s accusing hand. “It’s just he’s always giving me grief about my relationship so I would just love it if he had someone to be preoccupied with rather than judging everyone else for their life decisions.” 

“Sehun, leave.” 

Sehun sniffs and tugs on Vivi’s leash. “Let’s go, Vivi.” He struts off down the street. 

“He seems nice,” comments Junmyeon. 

“Avoid him like the plague.” 

The rest of the walk passes relatively smoothly. Junmyeon had suggested they forego the park today and just stroll around the block several times before heading back along the same way they came from, dropping off the various dogs until they find themselves outside Jongin’s apartment once again. Monggu, Jjanggu and Jjangah’s leashes are grasped in Jongdae’s hands as he toes his shoes off. 

“When you told me you would probably need some help, I wasn’t expecting this,” Junmyeon admits. 

Jongdae’s heart sinks from the thought of disappointing Junmyeon and the sunshine that radiates from every inch of him. He apologises, “Sorry, I’ve never owned a pet before.” 

“Don’t be too bummed,” encourages Junmyeon. “Today was fun! I guess I’ll see you on Friday?” 

“Sure.” Junmyeon waves goodbye and disappears down the stairs, and Jongdae wonders when the Jongin will think it’s a good idea to open the door, but he needs not to worry because the door swings open almost immediately after Junmyeon is gone. 

“So, how was it?” Jongdae doesn’t like the look on Jongin’s face at all. 

  

❇

 

The last few days of March and the majority of April pass by in a haze of blooming flowers, hyperactive dogs who are eager to excrete, and Junmyeon’s white-teethed smile. 

Though the presence of fourteen yapping creatures proves it to be difficult, they make their outings work. When the sun shines particularly bright, the heat becoming too overwhelming for their winter-worn bodies, they’ll stop to purchase ice cream. Other times, it will be tteokbokki or tornado potatoes. They never lapse into a moment of awkward silence, always following one conversation topic with another immediately. 

Once, they were passing by a bustling ramyun shop with an advertisement for the newly released Samsung Galaxy S7 tacked onto the storefront window and they stumbled onto the topic of childhood dreams. 

“I wanted to be the CEO of Samsung,” Junmyeon reminisces. “I dreamed big.” 

“I used to dream of being a singer,” Jongdae says wistfully. 

“Sing me something.” 

“No way,” refuses Jongdae. 

“Just a tiny bit?” 

There’s no way he can refuse Junmyeon’s smile, and so Jongdae complies. The only song that he knows off the top of his head right now is that bloody Descendants of the Sun theme song and so he sings that, and hopes that Junmyeon won’t question him why he knows it so well. 

(He didn’t, thank god.) 

Somewhere amidst the shifting of months, Jongdae understands that this must be what it feels like to fall in love. He never wants it to end, but all good things end eventually, and before he knows it, Jongin is discarding his crutches. Jongin’s leg is almost as good as new, and he is running around the place, answering the door within a few seconds. 

Jongdae knows he should be happy for his friend, and relieved that he doesn’t need to deal with the dogs any longer, but apart of him has grown attached to them. And perhaps he’s grown more than a little fond for the companion he has met as a result. 

He can’t mask his disappointment when Jongin stops him before he leaves with Monggu, Jjanggu and Jjangah, and tells Jongdae that his ankle has just about healed up and he can cover the dog-walking job again. 

“Thanks for all the help, I owe you big time.” 

Jongin is not usually sharp, and all the hearts he had unwittingly broken in high school are testaments of that fact. But knowing someone for eight years, and dealing with all the incidents that youth had brought, makes you sharp to an extent. So when Jongdae wavers, and answers barely a second late with a voice that is only the slightest hint duller, Jongin knows. 

“Finally, I was starting to think you were ing with me,” jokes Jongdae. 

“Jongdae-ah, you should talk to him,” Jongin says. 

Jongdae blinks, “What?” 

“Don’t act dumb. You know what I’m talking about.” 

Seriousness is a foreign concept to Jongin. It pulls his face in all the wrong directions, etched in so distortedly that Jongdae feels physically pained from looking at the emotion on Jongin’s face. 

“I can’t,” Jongdae sighs. “I don’t want to ruin what we have. I don’t even know if he swings that way.” 

Jongin’s face creases further – Jongdae didn’t even know that was possible – like he has a million and one things he wants to scream at Jongdae, but is trying incredibly hard to phrase them coherently before he unleashes his rage at the man. 

Thankfully, Jongdae is saved by the soft knocks on Jongin’s door. 

“I’m going to go.” He bids goodbye and leaves with three poodles in tow.  

 

❇

 

They’re at the park, Junmyeon talking about how one of his colleagues destroyed the studio’s microwave in his attempt to use it to cook a hard-boiled egg, and Jongdae doesn’t know what prompts him to bring it up but he mentions, “Jongin’s ankle has healed.” 

Junmyeon doesn’t miss a beat when he responds, “Oh, that’s great! So he’ll be back walking the dogs?” 

Jongdae’s heart sinks. He doesn’t know what he had been expecting, really. For Junmyeon to mirror the same tumultuous feelings that had been consuming Jongdae for the past five weeks? To be disappointed when he learned that they wouldn’t be spending every second afternoon together anymore? It’s at times like this that he especially resents his treacherous heart, letting him grow up with the audacity to hope. 

“Yeah, next week. You’ve still got one more afternoon on Friday stuck with me, unfortunately,” Jongdae chuckles. 

What he hates more, however, is his inability to be impulsive. If there’s one thing you must know about Jongdae, it’s that he never takes risks. Not for love, not for his dreams. He knows that the only way to happiness is the courage to chase it, and the only way to receive answers is to ask the questions in the first place. He knows that there are a million things he should say and do, but, like every other time in his life, he will firmly remain inside his comfort zone. 

“You make it sound as if I don’t enjoy our dog-walking fiascos,” Junmyeon hesitates. “Actually, I–” 

Junmyeon’s sentence is one that Jongdae will never finish hearing, because at that moment, something furry and warm decides to plaster itself over his face. 

“I’m so sorry!” A man with wine red hair tamed by a leather snapback and a pair of black thick-framed glasses balanced precariously on his nose apologises repeatedly as he plucks the ferret off of Jongdae’s face in a hurry. “He gets really excitable, but he means no harm. I hope he didn’t hurt you.” 

“Chanyeol?” 

“Junmyeon?” 

Junmyeon turns to Jongdae. “This is the guy I was telling you about who tried to microwave the egg at the studio.” 

“Junmyeon, you didn’t,” Chanyeol gasps, eyes widening with betrayal. 

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon winces. 

Jongdae rushes in quickly to reassure him, “Rookie mistake, I get it. I would have done it too if I were you.” 

“Really?” Chanyeol’s eyes light up. 

“No,” Jongdae confesses, earning a frown from Chanyeol. 

“Park Chanyeol! This is why I told you not to bring Ddori to the park,” A black-haired man dressed in a white t-shirt and ripped jeans, half a head shorter than Chanyeol, slaps him on the arm. 

“Baekhyun, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Chanyeol whispers loudly. 

“I know, being seen with in in public is an embarrassment,” Baekhyun sighs, voice laced with exasperation. “But anyhow, hi Junmyeon, fancy seeing you here with a very handsome looking young man, are we interrupting something by any chance?” 

Junmyeon gestures to the dogs and explains, “Jongdae is covering for Jongin’s dog-walking job since he sprained his ankle and all.” 

“Oh yeah, that idiot. Jongdae,” Baekhyun pauses, contemplates the name, and scrutinises Jongdae for a second. He eyes Jongdae up and down five times before he exclaims, “I know who you are! Junmyeon won’t stop talking about you at the studio.” 

“That guy!” Chanyeol claps his hands together, echoing Baekhyun’s realisation, and promptly frightens Ddori who he latches onto the corgi attached to the leash in Baekhyun’s hand. 

“Yeol,” snaps Baekhyun. “Stop letting your disgusting ferret fraternise with Mongryong.” 

“Don’t say that! You might hurt Ddori’s feelings,” Chanyeol warns. 

The scene unfolds all too quickly for Baekhyun’s earlier words to sink in. The two leave as quickly as they had come, bickering the whole way as they walk towards the edge of the park, but not before Baekhyun sneaks in a wink at Junmyeon first. 

“Don’t worry about him, he likes to say a load of crap,” says Junmyeon. 

Jongdae nods, but he doesn’t miss the way Junmyeon closes himself off for the rest of the afternoon. 

(And later, Jongin will ask if Jongdae spoke to him. Jongdae will shake his head and Jongin will throw a battered cushion at him in disappointment.)  

 

❇

 

Jongdae has this theory that if he never goes to sleep, morning will never come and he will never be forced to face the problems that the next day will bring. It’s not true at all. He has spent the entirety of his school years, college years, and even his wasteful adult years trying to prove his theory. The only thing that they bring, as he has so wisely learnt, is immense fatigue throughout the day and a load of regret. 

This doesn’t stop him from testing out his theory on Thursday night though. 

He tosses and turns in his single bed throughout the night and only manages to slip in two hours of sleep before the sun rises. His brain works strangely. He is surging with victory inside, but he is also tired as when he stumbles into work on Friday morning. 

Sehun, as always, is his first customer. What surprises Jongdae is the unusual absence of Vivi, and the sight of a white button up and grey slacks hanging off of Sehun’s lanky figure rather than the ugly navy tracksuit set he wears habitually. 

“What’s the special occasion?” asks Jongdae.

“It’s our one month anniversary since getting back together,” Sehun declares. 

Jongdae sets about to choose the flowers for the bouquet. “Would you like to hear my opinion?” 

“No.” 

He ignores Sehun’s answer and continues anyway, “I think you spend entirely way too much money on flowers.” 

“Who cares about your opinion though,” retorts Sehun. 

“Shut up, Sehun,” says Jongdae. “Look at me being an absolute darling and making you your very nice bouquets.” 

“You get paid.” 

“Revolutionary deduction. Thank you for that.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. He has no idea what Lu Han sees in the guy. He’s dumb and ungracious, and maybe good-looking and rich, but Jongdae would rather not mention that. 

When Sehun is paying for the bouquet, an arrangement of the pastel roses that had come in recently for spring, he decides to bring Junmyeon up, “So how is that guy you walk dogs with?” 

“Fine,” Jongdae responds curtly. 

“Just fine? Or fine.” 

Jongdae just glares at him. 

“Are you going out yet?” Sehun is relentless. 

“Pay for your flowers and leave,” hisses Jongdae. Sehun finally slides over his two 50,000 won notes with a frown. Jongdae passes him the change and hurries him out of the store. 

The day passes by slowly, and Jongdae isn’t sure if he’s annoyed or if he’s grateful. He yearns to see Junmyeon but the fact that it will be their last dog-walking rendezvous saddens him more than he initially thought it would have. 

He is just finishing up with serving a young girl purchasing flowers for her mother’s birthday, eyes still glued to her with a smile, when he hears his name. 

“Jongdae?” 

He looks up in surprise and echoes, “Junmyeon?” 

“You never told me you worked here!” exclaims Junmyeon, lips pulling into a wide grin. Just like that, any lethargy that Jongdae has been bogged down by has been alleviated, and he forgets everything that he’s been stressing over for the past two days. 

“Did I forget to mention it? My bad.” Between all the dog-walking meetings, he had forgotten about the time he had first seen Junmyeon at the florist.

“I come here all the time,” Junmyeon says. “I can’t believe I’ve missed you every single time.” 

“Probably because you come in at this time. This is generally when my shift finishes up,” laughs Jongdae. “What’s the occasion, though?” 

Junmyeon wavers, eyes darting from left to right, before he dismisses the question, “Ah, nothing much. Just here to get some for a friend.” 

“Congratulatory flowers for Jongin on healing?” Jongdae offers. 

“Possibly,” chuckles Junmyeon. 

“Well, I leave you in good hands,” Jongdae says as his coworker assumes his position at the counter. “See you later.” 

By the time Jongdae has reemerged from the back room with his belongings, Junmyeon has already consulted his coworker at the counter and the guy is milling around to pluck out the assortment of flowers for his request. Jongdae presumes he’ll see the bouquet later when Junmyeon drops them off at Jongin’s apartment, so he settles for a slight wave and then leaves.  

 

❇

 

Being with Junmyeon welcomes a feeling that is foreign to Jongdae. There is a tingle that starts in his toes and slowly makes its way throughout his body until every inch of it is filled with warmth. Jongdae has never been good with words, and he can’t use various complicated words to illustrate the inexplicable feeling. But he knows it’s something akin to comfort. 

If there has only been one thing he’s been completely sure of in his life, it’s that he has fallen in love with Junmyeon, and he never wants to let him go.

He only realises this when they’re walking back to Jongin’s apartment, the last afternoon of all their dog walks finished. It had passed like all the ones preceding it did, with tonnes of dog poop, incessant barking, and dog saliva as all the dogs tried to his hand when he petted them and bid goodbye. 

“Um.” Junmyeon clears his throat when they’re outside the entrance of the apartment complex. “I actually have an urgent errand to take care of. So can I run off first?” 

Jongdae’s first reaction is to reply with, “Yeah sure, have a good weekend.” As he watches Junmyeon’s silhouette rush down the street, he wills himself to call out the man’s name. However, the only thing he does is push open the creaky gate and make his way up the stairs to Jongin’s apartment. 

“Just yourself?” Jongin raises an eyebrow when he opens the door. 

“He had an errand to run so he left first,” replies Jongdae. 

Jongin greets Monggu eagerly as Jongdae slams himself down on the couch and buries his face into one of the cushions. He regrets it immediately when he smells the scent of sweat amongst other things. Jongdae doesn’t want to know what filthy deeds Jongin has been doing on this couch. 

“Sometimes, you just have to try. Put yourself out there, Jongdae. Seize the ing day.” Jongdae had known that this lecture from Jongin was coming. 

“Jongin, stop trying to be wise. You’re too young for that,” he groans. 

“I know you’re always worrying about what other people think of you,” Jongin continues. “But who the cares about what they think. At the end of the day, you’ll still have me, and that’s all that really matters, right?” 

“...”

“You’re a ing , Kim Jongdae.” 

“I have walked your dogs for you for the past five weeks,” Jongdae reminds him. “Whatever. Thanks for the pep talk, but let’s not be too dramatic. It’s not like I’ll never see him again; this is the 21st century.” 

Jongin clearly has more to say, but Jongdae is thankful that the guy abstains himself as he watches Jongdae roll off his couch and trudge towards the door. 

It’s when he exits Jongin’s apartment, door closing with a thud, does he learn that life always has a way of working itself out, in the end. Because Jongdae looks up to see Junmyeon standing in front of him with a handful of bright orange roses. 

“Sorry for being tacky but,” Junmyeon stares at his feet and asks with reddening cheeks. “Do you want to go out with me?” 

“Holy .” 

Junmyeon takes the smile spreading across Jongdae’s face as consent and leans in to kiss him on the lips. It’s slow and sweet, and by the time they pull apart, they’re both blushing messes. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you standing in Jongin’s apartment,” whispers Junmyeon with a sheepish laugh. When Jongdae nods and tells him the same thing, they kiss over and over again. 

“You’re ing welcome!” Jongin yells from inside his apartment which is fitted with very thin walls. “Now please leave while I clean my soiled ears out with bleach.” 

 

❇

 

Months later, on Jongdae’s birthday, Junmyeon will surprise him again. Something stemming from a small detail lost amidst the honks of cars on the busy streets of Seoul and the warm sticky taste of vanilla ice cream melting on his tongue. The memory has been pushed to the back of his mind, replaced with the taste of Junmyeon and the smell of his cologne.

But, Junmyeon remembers. 

“So my cousin works at a record label.” 

 

❇

 

Maybe Jongdae hasn’t learnt his lesson. But as he slowly allows himself to trust that life can work itself out for the better, maybe he can begin to.