#xjficfest

Autumn isn’t Sungjoo’s favorite season of the year. Cold weather, strong winds, leafless trees and all, but there’s something endearing happens on the dorm when the weather starts getting colder. It’s Yixuan, the eldest hyung of four brats---including him---busy taking out all his blanket supplies from the closet, the thick fabrics make a thud sound when they bump into the floor.

Wenhan and Seungyoun stare at him with an eyebrow raised, Yibo only spares a quick glance before focusing back to his PSP. Sungjoo sits on the dining room, carefully observing the situation.

“Uh, okay, so, what are you going to do with these?” Wenhan motions to the blankets, “I know we’re currently not promoting, but do you think selling blankets will help our financial? I mean---”

“We’re not going to sell them,” Yixuan says, almost laughing. A corner of his lips curls up, forming an adorable little smile. “These are for you. The weather can get horrible at any time, so we need to prepare for the worst.”

“Are you going to wrap up on blankets when we go out?” Seungyoun asks. Yixuan nods, pulling out more blankets, scarfs, and coats that were being folded neatly on the shelf. “Cute,” Seungyoun adds, giggling.

“The last time someone wrapped me with a blanket was on the day I was born,” says Yibo. “I’m not a baby, I’m not doing that.”

“Sssh, you’re always be our little baby, so stop complaining and help me bring these to the living room. I’ll see if I need to do laundry to some of them.”

Sungjoo turns around, laughing to see Yixuan leads the line with three younger boys behind him, each of them holding a pile of blankets. Sungjoo can hear Wenhan’s protest of “Sungjoo didn’t help us!” and Yixuan says Sungjoo will help him on other things, and he shushes him further by shoving more blankets to him while Yixuan arranging the place.

Sungjoo doesn’t bother to hide his laughter, much to the three’s annoyance. He winks at his band mates and heads to the kitchen, making five cups of hot chocolate.

 Sungjoo rolls on the couch, trying to keep his body temperature up. They have nothing to do today, and the wind is especially strong, so Yixuan has clearly stated that going out is forbidden. But staying in the dorm isn’t so much of a help---Sungjoo is still freezing to his bones.

Sungjoo is half way  feels someone nudging on his toes, and he reluctantly opens his eyes to see Yixuan stands on the edge of the couch. He looks extremely attractive with sweater and sweatpants, only with sweater and sweatpants. He nudges Sungjoo’s toe again, harder this time. “Make a space for me,” he says.

The younger shifts, pulls the taller man down and his chest is pressed against Yixuan’s warm back. Sungjoo snuggles closer, breathing Yixuan’s aftershower scent and the fresh smell of his sweater.

“It’s cold,” Sungjoo says, “and you’re warm.”

“My, my, my poor Sungjoo is freezing, huh?” Yixuan holds the younger tighter, letting Sungjoo bury his face on his chest. “This is why I love cold weather. Always a reason to cuddle all day, without doing anything, not thinking about anything... isn’t that nice?”

“I was going to propose the idea to you,” Sungjoo says, voice muffled on Yixuan’s sweater. “Yeah, let’s do that. Cuddle on bed all day, not thinking about anything. But- hey, where are the kids?”

“Go shopping. I let them go after I wrapped them in seven layers of clothes.” Yixuan sounds like a proud mom and Sungjoo can’t help but laugh. He looks up to press a chaste kiss on Yixuan’s jaw, before snuggling back on the elder’s chest.

“The wind is so strong,” Sungjoo mumbles, “maybe you should give them ten layers of clothes so they could just roll and don’t have to walk around.”

Yixuan laughs, imagining how the other members look like with Sungjoo’s scenario. He kisses Sungjoo’s hair softly, whispering to him about things he’d like to do tomorrow and the day after, together with Sungjoo. Sungjoo just nods, agreeing without much commenting. 

Sungjoo stares at Yixuan’s mouth, watching for the smile he knows is about to make an appearance. Sungjoo has lost their card game and he’s fairly certain that Yixuan knows it. After a moment, Sungjoo frowns. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“No,” Yixuan says, grinning. “I was waiting for you to concede.”

“You are terrible.” Sungjoo throws his cards down onto the little, makeshift table in the middle of their small trailer home. He leans back in his chair, still frowning at Yixuan. His scowl doesn’t last long, however. Yixuan’s smile is infectious and less than a minute later, Sungjoo is laughing. “Okay, I’ll admit that it was fun,” he says. “Even though you’re a cheater.”

“Hey, I didn’t cheat.”

Sungjoo eyes Yixuan suspiciously, but Yixuan’s expression is open, honest, and Sungjoo throws his hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. You’re just too good at this game.”

Yixuan snorts. “As if.” He starts collecting their cards into a pile, shuffling them back into the deck. “Do you want to play again?”

Sungjoo glances at the time. The digital clock on the stove reads just past eleven, and he shakes his head. “We should head to bed,” he says. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“I forgot that tomorrow was moving day,” Yixuan says as they clean up and head to bed, curling up together on the futon in the corner of the room.

“Yet another new beginning,” Sungjoo whispers against Yixuan’s collar once they’re situated. “Do you think we’ll be okay?”

“Everything’s going to be just fine.”

“Dad! We’re here! We’re here!”

Six year-old Seungyoun bouncing enthusiastically on his chair, his little hand gripping on the doorknob tightly. He turns his head and puts on his best impatient face to Sungjoo, silently telling his dad to hurry open the door!

Sungjoo chuckles, calmly turns off the machine and flicks Seungyoun’s forehead lightly. “Calm down, little boy. Uncle Wenhan is not going anywhere.”

“But Dad, our cartoon movie marathon is not going to wait!”

“Okay, okay,” Sungjoo sighs in defeat, “but first, let’s unbuckle your seat belt and promise me you won’t run away.”

Seungyoun shoves his little pinky to Sungjoo’s nose, “Promise!”

Sungjoo smiles, clicks the seat belt open and unlocks the door. Seungyoun runs in a speed of light out of the car, knocking on Wenhan’s door and when the house owner opens the door, Seungyoun runs into the house. Sungjoo watches his son’s antics from the car with mouth agape, he can’t help but laugh at the little boy. Seungyoun is always been a hyperactive, but not in a bad way. (It’s still tiring, though.)

___

“Don’t you have TV at home? Look at your son worshiping my television. It’s kinda scary, you know.”

Sungjoo laughs at his best friend. “I do, but I can’t supply his favorite cartoons from A to Z with a big ass home theater like you.”

Wenhan grins, “So you do know it’s the way I bribe your son so he’ll come here often. Seems like it works well.”

“As long as he’s not addicted to it, or I won’t let him stay here for weekend anymore.”

Wenhan winks for reassurance, and he shouts at Seungyoun, “Younyoun, do you want some ice cream?”

Sungjoo looks at him in horror when Seungyoun’s roar of agreement echoes across the wall. “You can get it on the freezer! Make sure to close the door after you done!” Wenhan adds, cackling like a madman when Sungjoo walks upon him with arms outspread, ready to strangle him to death.

“You’re such a bad influence for kids,” Sungjoo grumbles, “how can I trust you to keep him on his holiday?”

“You’re going to leave him with me for summer?” Wenhan repeats, immediately shaking his head. “Sorry, dude, I’m afraid I can’t. Big holiday projects, you know. I’ll be super busy this whole month and probably two or three later. I did want to spend a holiday with your son, but priorities come first.”

Sungjoo rolls his eyes, “Wenhan, you’re a model. Specifically, a model for a clothing brand. What does summer holiday have to do with you?”

“It has a lot, to be honest. Summer is where people actually looking for guidance about shit they gotta wear. I know doctors won’t think any of it is necessary, but that’s how I’ve been feeding myself for years which was also the reason I could buy a big ass home theater your son loved so much.”

“Okay, okay. I was just asked, no need to mock me like that.”

Wenhan laughs, patting Sungjoo’s knee apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. But are you really that busy this summer?”

Sungjoo sighs, nodding his head. “I don’t think I can even go home. We’re accepting interns in two weeks and everyone in hospital is going crazy, we have a lot of works to do in such a little time. Seungyoun won’t be happy about this, and I haven’t told him yet. I still don’t know what to do.”

“How about your parents?” Wenhan offers.

“They are doctors too, Wenhan. They’d love it but they wouldn’t have more time than I do. I need someone who can watch him intensively, Seungyoun is at the age where his curiosity can kill the adults around him.”

Wenhan scrunches his nose, thinking. “Have you thought about summer camp?”

“Summer camp?” Sungjoo frowns, “No, I’m not leaving my son at such a place. How if they are secretly a sect? And they have a mission to brainwash people? And how if they brainwash my son?”

Wenhan snorts. “You know, as an educated person, your way of thinking is purely uneducated,” he says blatantly, “Summer camp is a right place for active kids like Seungyoun. He will like it there. They have enough adults to watch over the kids, you don’t have to worry about anything.”

Sungjoo still doesn’t think it’s a good idea. “I want someone I know to watch over my kid?”

“You can have their contacts or something, gosh, Sungjoo, you’re so old-fashioned. Summer camp is a trend, dude, a trend!”

Sungjoo bites the inside of his cheek, considering Wenhan’s suggestion. Wenhan may be helpless at a lot of things, but sometimes he’s also the most useful person Sungjoo has ever met. And probably he’s not absolutely wrong about the idea.

He glances at Seungyoun, happily watching television with a huge bowl of ice cream on his tiny arms. Sungjoo doesn’t want his son to be disappointed, and the only way to distract him from Sungjoo’s lack of presence is giving what Seungyoun loves to do. Or keeping him busy, it works either way.

“So,” he says after a long pause, “do you have a recommendation?”

___

Being a model sure gives Wenhan lot of advantages, one of them is being able to make an appointment in a blink of eye. Sungjoo and Wenhan are on the way to meet a friend of Wenhan who happens to run the biggest summer camp this season, and the said person is always busy, but he agrees to make some time for Wenhan.

“I warn you, he’s gorgeous. Please control your eyes,” Wenhan says from the passenger seat. Sungjoo glances over to his sleeping son on the back seat from the rear view mirror, making sure he didn’t hear Wenhan’s words.

“I’m not like you. And please, control your mouth--”

“Oh! Here’s the place!”

Sungjoo is just about to complain about how rude Wenhan was, but he can’t say anything because a deadly gorgeous tall blonde man is standing not too far from his car, and he must be someone Wenhan talked about. Wenhan literally jumps off his car to give the person a tight hug, which he gladly returns with same enthusiasm.

Sungjoo gulps. Wenhan had warned him, but he didn’t say it was this bad.

“Sungjoo! Come here!” Wenhan shouts, tugging on his hand impatiently. “Sungjoo, this is Yixuan. He’s my best friend, he loves kids like they are all his own and he’s an expert on this field. He’s a one hundred percent trustworthy person, I can guarantee it.”

“You’re exaggerating it,” the gorgeous blonde man -- Yixuan, isn’t it? -- laughs softly, his voice weirdly soothing on this too-warm day; or is it just Sungjoo? “Hello, I’m Yixuan. I run this place, and I’ll be happy to have more participants. Is this going to be your kid’s first experience?”

Sungjoo nods, “Uh, yes, my son is six years old. He’s very active, I hope he won’t be a burden.”

“Of course not,” Yixuan smiles, “I’ll need you to fill up a registration form for your son, sadly I didn’t bring it with me so you’ll have to come to my office. Do you have time for that?”

“Yes!” Sungjoo answers rather too quickly, gets embarrassed (Wenhan is laughing out loud at his response) and immediately adds, “I mean, of course, it doesn’t take long, does it?”

“I promise it doesn’t,” Yixuan smiles wider, “Please, this way.”

___

“Go check on my son, I’ll be back soon.”

“Isn’t he beautiful, huh? Yixuan?”

“Yes, god, yes,” Sungjoo groans, “I have enough stress already. I don’t need a gorgeous summer camp instructor to be another one.”

Wenhan hums, “You owe me a big thing, my dear friend.”

Sungjoo groans again, louder this time. “I really, really, really hate you.”

shanghai is quieter now at 3am and sungjoo is a seasoned warrior and knows that sleep has left for the night so he slips out from the blankets, pajama pants skimming the ground and already knowing that the other bed in the hotel room is cold and vacant as well.

the steaming coffee is bitingly bitter against his tongue and is scalding in contrast with his bare feet against the tiled floor of the small kitchen. sungjoo hates the decor of the tiny space, with the tasteless paint and muted appliances that once shone, but it's an upgrade to the last hotel they stayed at in wenhan’s hometown. the five members had been separated into three groups and with loud neighbors in between to further the distance.

at least this time the five of them share a suite and there's a living room to connect them.

sungjoo really shouldn't be surprised anymore, but it still hits him sometimes with he sees lights on in which ever common room they reside in that night, because there's only one who's stupid — or passionate — enough to do this. 

it's no secret that occasionally yixuan wakes from sleep like he does, because he's seen it himself, though for very different reasons. it never fails to amaze sungjoo how yixuan took on the role of leadership with complete abandon and pushing the limits even further than anyone could imagine. it's what he's born to do, meant for it in every possible way, no doubt, but there's always a cost, even if everyone doesn't see it.

but sungjoo does. ever since sungjoo laid eyes on the older chinese man, his gaze has never quite left. so he knows every line beneath yixuan's eyes and all the small pimples that pop up like goosebumps from broken cycles, long before they're smudged away by makeup and blinding lights.

and he sees it even more now as he leans against the doorframe, unnoticed. he takes in the papers scrawled with ink and a pair of glasses that are abandoned on the desk beneath the dull light of the shitty desk lamp that hangs like a wilting flower.

but he really only has eyes for the silhouette against the window, eyes closed and head leaning against the glass. yixuan is art like this, his figure greyscale in contrast to the gradient of navy sky blues and night purples with scattered city yellows and white road windings.

the suite is an almost ironic design really, three bedrooms that have gaping windows facing different directions, funneling different cityscapes into the mouths of its residents. but, inevitably, there yixuan in the center, standing steady behind it all and holding it all together. 

all roads lead back to home.

but what is yixuan without the members, a home without its occupants? is it not just a structure without meaning? sometimes when he thinks that no one is looking, sungjoo notices the spaces where yixuan hasn't filled, where the untold stories rest, stories of a boy grown up too fast, too soon.

when he thinks of what — who — yixuan was, before the world told him who he should be, sungjoo thinks it must be this — long frame folded loosely on the windowsill, face half-lit, soft hair falling into softer eyes that remain untouched by the tricks and games of the world. 

and he wonders if yixuan remembers too.

yixuan startles from his thoughts the same way he does when he gets asked a question that he doesn't know how to respond right away — with blinking eyes, a hum deep in his throat, and a slow, unhurried smile.

taking in the offered drink, yixuan raises his eyebrows, but takes it anyway with a quiet, 'isn't it a bit late for coffee?'

sungjoo pulls up the chair and straddles it, arms holding across the back and replies, 'it's morning somewhere in the world.'

these are the moments that sungjoo treasures the most because this is when yixuan looks at him the way he remembers — forgetting all the responsibilities he has and just stares at sungjoo in a way that's neither invasive nor demanding. and all distance, difference, time, roles, troubles, everything falls away.