my favorite flavor? vanilla, of course!
jongin can’t believe his ice cream blogger hero could say something so simple. for a guy to have tried all the flavors in korea and to be wanted worldwide, how is his favorite flavor vanilla?
he decides to ask him later.
(oh yeah, they’re best friends and boyfriends—jongin forgets to mention that)
“you said your favorite flavor of ice cream is vanilla—fucking vanilla—like the most common flavor on the planet.” jongin’s slightly frustrated.
(i mean, who was expecting some radical flavor or even something with so many adjectives trailing before “flavor” even was said. everybody, that’s who)
sehun sighs, “have you had any other vanilla ice cream besides what’s in the carton?” he crosses his arms and taps his foot.
(this gesture is new, jongin thinks, maybe sehun has been watching too many dramas—this is too cliché, even for the sappy romantic named oh sehun)
“uh, no? why would i, the carton ones are plenty good.” even before the words tumble out, they sounds really incredibly dumb, because jongin’s talking to one of the biggest ice cream enthusiasts in asia. obviously he hasn’t been gorging out on all the ice cream containers from all the supermarkets, and instead, going to the actual ice cream parlors and factories and labs to help perfect the artform that is ice cream.
sehun (of course) doesn’t take this answer as a plausible one and drags him to the car, ten minutes of driving with the tanned one pouting over so easily being dragged when he’s known for his near-perfect physique of muscles and bones with a thin film overlaying those substances (skin). he’s also a little upset that he has to eat sugary dessert food, something he’s long cut out of his diet.
(yes, it’s “has to” at this point; the thought of sugar being manipulated like that makes him gag and stomach churn—just like white bread and solid fats)
sehun goes to park and jongin doesn’t see anything special—he doesn’t even see an ice cream shop—just some buildings too tightly packed together in varying lengths and popularity.
(it reminds him of what he hears about females trying to squeeze themselves into skinny jeans—the taller buildings squished in their surroundings until they reach certain heights and have more room to wiggle around)
“through here,” sehun tugs on his arm towards a really sketchy looking alley that jongin can’t help but flinch, “i know what it looks like, but the best ones are generally hole-in-the-walls. now, come on.”
they walk through the door without any injuries or deaths. sehun bows to the man behind the counter before asking for a couple vanilla ice creams please, preferably in cups.
(jongin wants to hug sehun, because he knows that sehun knows how he probably would explode from too much sugar if he has a cone added onto the sugar check that jongin most certainly won’t be able to cash)
(“how big are these ‘cups.’” jongin lifts a brow.
“small, very small—when you’re crazy about ice cream, you don’t offer huge quantities of it. it’s something made with the heart like most other things are; you want to create what your love has turned into without being a heartless factory worker—just churning and churning until your heart is mush instead of sprinkles gently sprinkled throughout like the oreos in cookies ‘n cream or the almonds in rocky road.” sehun sounds like a poet, pumping out metaphors all over the place that, surprisingly, make sense (this time). “a few spoonfuls—four or five probably.”)
(sehun has learned that instead of speaking more simply, to refer to only the common ice cream flavors—however to him, it’s all the same)
they talk a bit—sehun and, from what jongin can perceive at least, the owner—a few casual words before the tiny bowls are handed over and move to some chairs by the window. the enthusiast has a kid smile on his face before he takes a bite and visually melts.
(i can’t even make him do that, jongin’s resolve crumbles, fuck this guy for doing it in a spoonful)
jongin tries it, licking his lips and tilting his head in thought. “what do you think?” low and behold, sehun’s face has a shit eating grin because he knows.
“is that—” jongin was never a foodie, he figured it was enough that he could recognize the difference from good tasting food to perfect tasting food, “christmas?”
“some nutmeg, yes.”
(sehun’s also learned that knowing jongin comes with a manual and loving him is to be the founder of the translation to his code; this isn’t even the bad part of it)
jongin approves (he kind of has to, but he doesn’t complain), it’s not quite as sweet as the generic vanilla flavor is—or maybe it’s a different kind of sweet?—but the delicate flavor of the bean is definitely balanced with the soft cream.
“it tastes like you.” sehun smiles at that like the little romantic he is.
(sehun doesn’t comment on how the other shovels the rest in his mouth in the most ungraceful way possible. instead he just kisses him as they laugh.)
yeah, sehun definitely tastes like vanilla and jongin can’t help but love him a little more.