In These Arms [mxm]

Chapter 8 - Forever lotus

A/N: Friendly reminder that this is completely unedited. There may be plotholes and spelling and grammar errors riddled all through this but I'm trying to smash out as much as I can while I'm stuck at home from work with the rona. I always have different excuses for never editing but they are all valid I swear (at least they always align with my laziness and impatience). 

Anyway, please enjoy 

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My body shook so much that Chanyeol seemed to mistake it for being cold. When he led me inside, he took me to the open plan living space where a ginormous black U shape couch took up the majority of space. The aesthetic reminded me so much of Jung-ho's private hospital bathroom suite, with its dark greys and blacks. There were yellow couch throws folded and placed neatly at the end of the ottoman, as if they'd never been touched. He picked one up and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"I'll get you a warm drink," he said as he walked away.

As I watched his back turn to me again, I tried to swallow down a new onslaught of tears. I hated the sight of his back, even if he was only planning to be gone a few moments. To take everything off my mind, I looked around the apartment and took in just how much everything had changed. The walls were pristine white compared to the ugly green walls and the muddy yellow wallpaper in the kitchen. The floors weren't dirty and stained sixties carpets anymore, but rather smooth and polished concrete.

The furniture was all different. The light fittings were fixed into the ceiling this time, rather than hanging down with awkward light shades. Everything looked so futuristic, yet so surprisingly modern. His kitchen bench wasn't the same muddy yellow as the old wallpaper, but rather black marble with white splatters. There were no handles on any of them. He stood at a high cupboard and touched it, and I watched it open to reveal mugs and glasses.

Chanyeol pulled out two and boiled his glass jug with a built-in neon blue light. He really lived like a wealthy man. I watched in awe as he moved about in the kitchen. His clothes were so corporate, which didn't suit his broad shoulders and cautious movements. The smell of hot chocolate wafted into the living room, giving me a haunting sense of nostalgia.

When Chanyeol came over with my drink, I recognized the black mug he extended towards me where half a lotus flower was outlined in gold, and had an English inscription which read, "For our forever." It was my promise to him when we first moved into this home twenty years ago. In his other hand was the second half of the set in white. He'd still kept them for all these years.

As I looked up at him, all I could see was the eighteen-year-old boy I'd spent almost my entire life beside. His hair was long and unruly, his stature was lean and confident, his smile was still crooked and mischievous, and there was a gleam of eternal youth behind those beautiful proud eyes. The man in front of me looked so cold and empty by comparison.

"How did you change so much yet remain almost exactly the same?" I whispered, pulling my eyes away to stare at the marshmallows instead.

Leaving some distance between us, Chanyeol sat down beside me and took a sip of his hot chocolate. Three marshmallows floated on top of his, too. Old habits seemed to die hard, even after seven godforsaken years.

"How can you remain exactly the same?" he countered, leaning back, and folding his arms against his chest while keeping his coffee mug close to his lips. It's like he did this deliberately to draw my attention to the parts of him I was always weakest towards. His lips, chest, and arms. It was hard not to just crawl into his lap and bury my face in his neck. This desire didn't dissipate after seven years of slumber.

"Life works in cruel and mysterious ways," I muttered before blowing on my hot chocolate and taking a sip. My eyes closed and some of the tension melted away. I was taken back to the weeks leading up to our enlistment in the army where we'd enjoy our hot drinks together. Chanyeol would be the one to make them because he always made them taste better, which must have been a gift inherited from his father. Thinking of his father reminded me... "Does father-in-law still live here? How is his health? Is he okay?"