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On hindsight, Renjun blames it on the adrenaline.
They’ve just ended their first SMTOWN in Osaka, the first of a three-day series of concerts and Renjun’s never felt his heart beat quite this fast before. He and Jaemin are on the balcony of the room he shares with Xuxi (who’s off somewhere with Sicheng), watching as cars drive past on the street below them and streetlights illuminate the way for passers-by, surprisingly plenty at this time of the night. The balmy night cradles them in a comfortable silence as their minds wander off with their own thoughts. It’s not their first SMTOWN concert – Dubai, with the gleaming Burj Khalifa and miles of rolling sand, left an indelible impression – but it is their first one as 7 Dream, with Mark and Donghyuck joining them, and their first with all 18 members of NCT performing as well. Any worries they might’ve initially had disappeared once they saw and heard their fans’ raucous support, cheering their hearts out while they performed a diverse setlist that showcased their talents.
The night ambles on peacefully, yet Renjun somehow feels restless. Heart racing, he turns his head just the tiniest fraction of an inch to sneak a glance at Jaemin, who’s barely an arm’s length away. Against the backdrop of Osaka’s night sky, Jaemin’s side profile looks all the more ethereal – Renjun can’t help but be envious of how effortlessly perfect he looks.
Still. Jaemin is so, so still, Renjun would’ve thought Jaemin was a statue if he didn’t catch the quiet sounds of his exhales. He finds it strange that Jaemin is so serene while he’s itching to just move.
A thought passes his mind and – no. He dismisses it the first time. It’s too risky. They won’t be able to pull it off.
The lights are dancing in the distance. Far away, they’re a blur – but even so, Renjun can make out the distinct blobs of colour – loud shades of blues and reds and yellows, juxtaposed against the towering, grey buildings that surround them. And suddenly he feels a strong yearning that manifests into an almost tangible pull towards the Dotonbori shopping district, wanting to experience the sights and sounds in person.
Minutes later, he decides to break the silence. “Why don’t we go and explore Osaka?”
Jaemin turns to look at Renjun, an eyebrow arched in amusement. Renjun’s eyes are seemingly transfixed on something in the distance, so he follows Renjun’s gaze and realises that he’s looking at the shopping district not so far away from their hotel, the large neon billboards apparent even at this distance.
“Now?” Jaemin asks, even though he knows what Renjun will answer anyway.
Renjun nods, jutting his chin out defiantly. Jaemin loves this about Renjun – that he’s so full of ideas, and at the same time unafraid to go all out and pursue them. That he doesn’t – or rarely – cares about consequences. That the here and now is where he resides in.
“Yes, now.”
And of course, Jaemin gives in like he always does – Renjun is his perennial soft spot.
“We need to make sure no one catches us though.” Jaemin is already ticking off a running list in his mind of what to look out for, taking precautions. “Taeyong-hyung and Doyoung-hyung like to walk around in the corridors so we should check them to make sure they’re all clear.”
The laughter that bubbles up Renjun’s throat sounds like the tinkles of a windchime.
“Sure, Mr James Bond.” Renjun nudges Jaemin’s arm with his elbow, eliciting a chuckle from the latter.
Renjun tucks his room card inside his pocket and they head out, taking care to make as little noise as possible. A brisk walk down the corridor takes them to the lift lobby, where they spend a nerve-wracking minute or two waiting for the lift, hearts in their mouths, hoping that no one else will pass by. Thankfully, luck seems to be on their side as they manage to make their way out of the hotel with minimal attention on them.
Once out of the huge revolving doors, Renjun bolts straight ahead, baggy shirt billowing behind him as he revels in his newfound freedom, arms outstretched. Jaemin follows after him and they’re both laughing with the wind in their faces. They slow down when the hotel is out of sight and Renjun shivers a little, being clothed only in a shirt and pants – the chilly air was obviously an afterthought to him in his excitement to escape.
“You cold?” The way Jaemin notices every little detail about Renjun shouldn’t surprise him anymore, but the question still catches Renjun off guard, and he blinks thrice in rapid succession, lips parting slightly.
“Just a little,” Renjun shrugs, rubbing his hands on his arms but looking ahead and acting nonchalant. “It's nothing, really.”
He’s not weak, he can deal with a little cold air, it’s no big deal –
Jaemin sighs and pulls Renjun a little closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder in an attempt to transmit some of his body heat to him. Jaemin’s dressed a lot warmer than Renjun is, of course – he has a jacket on, one of his thicker ones that has a fluffy inner lining. Though Renjun never understands why Jaemin always dresses like the temperature is a couple degrees lower, this time he’s thankful for the extra body heat.
“Better?” Jaemin chuckles and reaches up to poke Renjun’s nose. To onlookers from afar, they look like a weird human blob, struggling to walk in a straight line.
Renjun leans into Jaemin’s warmth, and it’s oddly reminiscent of the feeling of wrapping his hands around a cup of hot jasmine tea.
It’s nice.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, but Jaemin hears it anyway. Even without looking, Renjun can feel Jaemin’s smile grow wider. His heart swells inside his chest, squeezing the last bit of air out of his lungs.
Their first stop is the Dotonbori Shopping District, without a doubt the most famous shopping area in Osaka. Jaemin knows they’re nearing it when his senses begin to get inundated with a variety of sights, sounds and smells. He hears the bustle of the shopping crowd – an eclectic mix of tourists and locals, young and old, couples and families, and the odd lone wanderer – all eager to immerse themselves in Dotonbori. Dotonbori practically buzzes with energy – it’s the beating heart of Osaka, revitalising the city with its liveliness. All around them are billboards and signs in a mix of kanji, hiragana and katakana. Though Jaemin can recognise the odd character, everything else is foreign to him and a tinge of regret hits him for not putting in more effort to study Japanese before he came.
They stroll along the river, towards the centre of Dotonbori. Occasionally, the odd boat filled with tourists passes by. Bright lights, dotted in the water, appear to move along with the gentle ripples – imbuing the whole scene before him with a Monet-like vibe.
“Look! The Glico running man!” Renjun exclaims, excitedly waving a finger at what Jaemin makes out to be a neon signboard with the outline of a running man, on a blue race track with famous Osaka landmarks behind him in the distance. Jaemin doesn’t know why Renjun’s so excited over a neon signboard of a random man, nor why the signboard’s there in the first place.
It’s Japan. He figures that’s explanation enough.
“I read about this before! Did you know, the Glico running man has glowed over Dotonbori’s canal for more than 80 years?” While informing Jaemin of this random piece of trivia, Renjun eagerly takes out his phone from his pocket and begins to snap pictures of the signboard. Jaemin looks on as Renjun takes a few shots vertically, then horizontally, chiming in with laughter when the older complains about having to tilt his arms upwards high to get a good shot.
“Why a running man though? That’s so random…” Jaemin trails off, staring up at the brightly lit signboard.
“Glico’s first product was Glico-Caramel, and they advertised it as something that would boost one’s energy, so – a running man,” Renjun explains, now flicking through the various filters on his phone and trying to find the best one for his photo.
“Huh,” Jaemin folds his arms and starts contemplating what Renjun says, eyes still on the neon running man. “That’s pretty smart, actually. I definitely am craving some Glico snacks right now.”
Renjun chuckles lightly at that; the way his eyes crinkle and the little dimple on his left cheek appears, albeit just for a fleeting moment, sends Jaemin’s heart aflutter. “We can go get food later, but first, there’s something else I want to find…”
Without any warning, Renjun grabs Jaemin’s arm and he finds himself almost being thrown off kilter, as Renjun drags him forward, squeezing through the dense crowd. Jaemin has lost all sense of direction as Renjun pulls him along the seemingly endless throng of people, twisting and turning, and he has to take a moment to reorient himself when they finally stop in the middle of a busy pedestrian street.
“Ah! There it is!” Renjun shouts excitedly, hand going up to grab Jaemin’s arm – it’s a natural reflex at this point. Jaemin swivels his head to look at the gigantic bright orange crab that Renjun’s pointing at.
“The famous crab!” Indeed, a very large, menacing-looking crustacean, with eight moving legs, two pincers and a pair of black beady eyes, is perched above the signboard of a restaurant (which, Jaemin thinks he can safely assume, sells seafood).
“It does indeed look very famous,” Jaemin accedes. “If not for the restaurant, the crab is definitely eye-catching enough.”
“Didn’t you say you spent a lot of time learning Japanese?” Renjun’s eyes are shining with mirth as he nudges Jaemin with an elbow. “Can you read that sign?”
Jaemin looks at the signboard and the memories of all the hours spent toiling away in Japanese lessons start inundating his brain, but all he can do is stare blankly at the Japanese characters while his mind drowns in the flood of information.
“Ka… ka… ka ni…” Jaemin gets only as far as the second character, as third and fourth elude him. In the end, he shakes his head, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. “I don’t know. I give up.”
“Ha!” Renjun yells triumphantly. “It’s ‘ka-ni-do-raku.’” He beams as he tells him, enunciating each individual syllable, while Jaemin pays attention to the way the sounds fall from his lips. In his mind, there are flashbacks to how Renjun would, when Jaemin asked, repeat Chinese phrases to him over and over again until he could pronounce them without completely butchering them. It contrasts with how Chenle would shake his head and tut at him when he tried saying any new phrase he’d learnt, joking that his pronunciation wasn’t good enough.
“What does it mean, oh Mr. I’m-so-good-at-Japanese?” Jaemin scoffs, rolling his eyes. For some reason, Renjun loves to make everything a competition and constantly searches for ways to one-up Jaemin. Renjun used to boast about being the best cook in Dream until Jaemin decided to put it to a vote, and in the end, Jaemin won by a single vote, courtesy of Jeno. Till this day, Renjun hasn’t let Jeno live it down, still bringing it up from time to time and shooting him dirty looks despite his numerous apologies.
The smug grin on Renjun’s face progressively widens as he exclaims, “It means ‘crab road’!”
Jaemin purses his lips, genuinely impressed by Renjun’s knowledge. Meanwhile, Renjun’s phone is already out of his pocket and held snugly in his hands, as he positions it so that the crab is in the centre of the frame.
“Kani Doraku is the most famous seafood restaurant in Osaka,” Renjun tells Jaemin as he snaps away. The long queue snaking away from the restaurant’s entrance is proof – the end is nowhere in sight.
“How do you know all of this?” Jaemin can’t help but wonder – amidst their practices in preparation for the concert and the upcoming comeback, he doesn’t know how Renjun could possibly have had time to do such extensive research. Renjun takes a few steps back in search of a new angle.
“I talked to Yuta-hyung, mainly,” Renjun shrugs, snapping a few more pictures of the shopfront before pocketing his phone. “He was really helpful.”
Jaemin acknowledges Renjun’s words, nodding twice. “Where shall we go next?” he then asks, knocking into Renjun with an elbow and a grin. “I’m a little hungry.”
Renjun takes a deep breath and lets it out all too slowly, as if his narrow shoulders bore the weight of the world. “You’re always hungry,” he complains, eyeing Jaemin disdainfully, brows furrowed. Jaemin’s occasional immaturity can frustrate him to no end.
Jaemin retorts almost immediately, “I just have a good appetite!” A few passers-by turn their heads upon hearing Jaemin’s cry and Renjun looks down at his shoes, mildly embarrassed. He notices that they’re now a dirty grey, a far cry from the pristine white they used to be when he first got them. He probably should wash them soon.
“Well, luckily they sell really good street food here too,” Renjun tells him when he’s sure no one else is paying them any heed, the corners of his lips curving up, “and there’s a takoyaki stall that I want to try.”
“Let’s go then!” Jaemin cries in excitement, grabbing Renjun’s arm with both hands and swinging it from side to side. Renjun is used to being thrown around like a rag doll, but that doesn’t prevent him from feeling exasperated at Jaemin’s antics, though ultimately he doesn’t have the heart to shake Jaemin off.
The soft spot he has for Jaemin is both a blessing and a curse.
Renjun leads the way after determining the route to follow using Google Maps; Jaemin follows along, making sure not to let Renjun disappear from his sight as the latter weaves in and out of the throng of people. They arrive at the takoyaki stall a minute later. It’s tiny and nondescript, sandwiched in between two restaurants, but again, the queue is what gives it away.
Jaemin steps forward to take a closer look, marvelling at the rows and rows of takoyaki balls, shaped into spheres and gleaming golden underneath the orange-yellow lights of the stall.
“Look! You can still see the steam!” Jaemin eagerly jabs a finger onto the glass panel, pointing out the whitish wisps emanating from the takoyaki; Renjun can barely discern them from the variety of colours in the background. The sight of tasty takoyaki balls whets his appetite again and he feels his stomach rumble.
“Who’s buying?”
No response – typical. Jaemin glances at Renjun out of the corner of his eye, only to see Renjun looking back at him, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“Rock, paper, scissors!” Renjun calls out, trying to catch Jaemin unawares by showing ‘paper’. And it works – Jaemin’s hands scrunch into a fist on reflex, meaning that he’s lost.
“You lost! You lost! Ha!” Renjun throws a triumphant fist into the air, turning to laugh in Jaemin’s face. And Jaemin’s face falls, though only for a fraction of a second, because Renjun’s infectious joy causes him to grin.
Renjun still doesn’t know that Jaemin’s got his rock-paper-scissors strategy all figured out long ago; he doesn’t even realise that he tends to choose rock, then scissors, then paper, in that order. He doesn’t know that Jaemin lost on purpose, doesn’t feel how Jaemin’s heart soars when he sees Renjun react with so much happiness to his “win”.
Outwardly, Jaemin pretends to heave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, I’ll buy.”
Soon enough each of them is holding a box of four takoyaki balls, drizzled with brown takoyaki sauce and topped with shavings of dried bonito. Renjun eagerly skewers one of the takoyaki balls, eyes curving into pretty crescents as he takes a bite and revels in the explosion of taste that fills his mouth.
“This is really good, try it,” Renjun says, words made indistinct by the mouthful of takoyaki. Jaemin does and it really is delicious, even better than the takoyaki they usually buy from the store near their dorm. Perhaps there really is something magical about Osaka, that makes the takoyaki more delicious, the lights brighter, and Renjun even more ethereal.
Once their food is finished and they dispose of the empty containers, Renjun suggests that they cross the Ebisu Bridge, another one of Osaka’s landmarks. Jaemin nods in agreement and they head towards the bridge, neither of them minding that their shoulders are bumping into each other every few seconds.
“Remember when we went to Garosu-gil when we were trainees?” Renjun mentions, hand seeking out Jaemin’s and interlocking their fingers – Jaemin’s palm is warm, almost alarmingly so, whereas Renjun’s is cool. “We went here and there and you kept complaining you were hungry, so I treated you to Korean BBQ.”
Jaemin laughs fondly at the memory, one of his favourites involving Renjun. After that trip, what Garosu-gil meant to them changed completely. It became more than just a high-class shopping district with fancy cafes and vintage shops – it became a marker of how their feelings for each other grew along with time, as the trees that dotted the street bore witness to the many, many special memories they shared.
“Yeah, we decided to go there after training and everyone on the streets looked like models but there we were, all sweaty and in baggy training attire,” Jaemin laughs out loud, eyes crinkling as he recalls how they earned more than a few judging stares as they walked into the trendy shops. If Jaemin was alone he’d feel self-conscious, but having Renjun with him that day meant he couldn’t care less about others’ judgements.
For Renjun was, and still is, his source of strength – the one he turns to when he’s tired, upset, or in doubt. Jaemin wouldn’t call himself brave, but somehow, when Renjun’s around – courage isn’t so hard to find anymore.
Renjun smiles, the dimple on his left cheek deepening. Jaemin stares at him, almost forgetting how to breathe. “This reminds me of those days. I’m really happy you came with me tonight, Jaemin-ah.”
The Ebisu Bridge is full of people convening, couples holding hands and children skipping after their parents. People linger on the bridge, stopping to take in the scenes around them. Shinsaibashi shopping district is on the opposite bank (or so Renjun says), its neon signboards mirroring the ones at Dotonbori.
Osaka’s night lights are pretty, Jaemin thinks, but nowhere near as pretty as Renjun, who’s so bright he puts even the stars to shame.
“Let’s go!” Renjun laughs, grabbing Jaemin’s hand and tugging him along as he runs across the bridge, Jaemin falling into step beside him.
And as Jaemin sneaks a glance at the boy beside him, all wild eyes and windswept hair, he thinks to himself what he’s ever done to deserve him, while falling ever deeper in love.
They walk along Dotonbori River, neon lights from Shinsaibashi casting fluorescent glows on Renjun’s countenance. Jaemin is looking at Renjun with the biggest smile on his face. He never takes his eyes off Renjun even once, almost doesn’t want to blink – to him, every second spent not appreciating Renjun’s beauty is a second wasted.
“I hate it when you smile like that,” Renjun blurts out.
To say Jaemin is surprised is an understatement – his eyes widen and he stops dead in his tracks, trying to process Renjun’s words. “Like what?”
“You know, when you smile like it’s going to eat up your whole face,” Renjun scrunches his nose, deliberately turning away from Jaemin to hide the mini emotional turmoil he’s going through. Renjun knows all too well that he always wears his heart on his sleeve, his face a canvas of his emotions. “I hate it.”
The smile on Jaemin’s face falters. There’s a beat before he quietly asks, “What’s wrong with it?”
The silence that follows lasts for much longer before Renjun replies, “It makes me want to kiss it off you.”
The smile that Renjun hates (or claims to) grows even wider now, and Renjun’s gaze falls to Jaemin’s lips, as his own lips part subconsciously. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, suddenly feeling his mouth go dry when Jaemin locks gazes with him.
Renjun isn’t thinking when he pulls Jaemin towards him, not when Jaemin looks absolutely beautiful right there against the backdrop of a thousand neon lights. He reaches to comb a lock of stray hair behind Jaemin’s ear, then his hand slowly slides to Jaemin’s neck, and stays there. The last thing Jaemin sees before his eyes flutter shut is the sparkle in Renjun’s eyes, reminiscent of the brightest star in the night sky.
Renjun kisses Jaemin, soft and slow, and it takes all of Jaemin’s strength not to combust right there and then, what with the way Renjun is threading his fingers through his hair and holding him so close that Jaemin can hear his heartbeat. Jaemin doesn’t want it to end but eventually Renjun breaks the kiss, though he’s still standing close enough for Jaemin to count the flecks of stardust in his eyes.
“I can’t wait to go back home,” Renjun whispers, his breath tickling Jaemin’s neck. Osaka is nice but he already misses their dorm and the late nights spent talking in their rooms, with only a flickering candle to accompany them.
“Home? Home’s wherever you are,” Jaemin says solemnly, intertwining his fingers with Renjun’s and holding their hands up in front of him. What follows afterwards feels like a promise. “And I’ll be your home, too.”
Renjun turns away, he might’ve flushed too – Jaemin’s not too sure, it’s too dark to tell.
“You’re still so cheesy,” Renjun sighs, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Jaemin. Tenderly, Jaemin flattens his palm against Renjun’s face, gently turning it so that Renjun’s looking at him.
“And you still like it,” are the words he says before he leans in again, pressing a soft peck to Renjun’s lips. Renjun answers with a smile so dazzling that it steals Jaemin’s breath away.
For what is home, but a place where your heart belongs? So when Renjun rests his head on Jaemin’s chest, wraps his arms around him, and closes his eyes – he thinks that it feels right.
Jaemin feels like home.