Death by chocolate. [FanXing, EXO, R, AU] 1/2
Title: Death by chocolate. 1/2
Author: gaussianblur89/89-archives/oeei
Rating: R
Beta: amlui
Pairings: Yixing/Yifan
Genre: AU, romance
Warnings: Racism, derogatory terminology, language and obscene amounts of chocolate
Summary: “What’s not to like about someone who makes chocolate this nice?” Zitao piped up and blinked his big eyes at Yixing.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Yixing confessed fondly. After a moment of silent musing he spoke up, “Will you let me guess your favourite chocolate?”
Comments: Prompt #16 for kissfanxing's Valentine's Day fic fest. Extensive A/N at the end of fic. Enjoy~
Word count: 10 394.
“Chocolate is the first luxury. It has so many things wrapped up in it: Deliciousness in the moment, childhood memories, and that grin-inducing feeling of getting a reward for being good.”
- Mariska Hargitay
*
Yixing wiped his brow as he rolled the cocoa beans under the rolling pin. His mother had never agreed on getting modern appliances to do the grinding of the beans for you, something which he never had understood, until now. There was a refined touch to it, much like making your own paint from raw pigments. Yixing smiled to himself as he looked over the ground beans, deeming the powder fine enough to be blended with rich cream.
Despite the kitchen of his chocolaterie being warm from the slowly simmering pots and pans, outside was nippy. Spring was attempting to take over from winter, but the winds still rattled the windowpanes and Yixing had admitted defeat to it, choosing to keep his front door shut instead of open for customers. He worried if the daffodils he had potted would make it until Easter.
*
Yixing had opened his shop in the middle of a tiny French village almost a year ago to date. He and his son had stepped off the bus, carrying only a backpack and suitcase each. It was a quiet village, something Yixing didn’t mind, save from the occasional aeroplanes that passed overhead and cars which drove by. People had eyed them with curious contempt, something Yixing tried to counter with a smile every time he passed someone in the street. His French was still very basic and he lacked the greater understanding of the finesse in intonation, which often led to misunderstandings and embarrassed smiles. Yixing however, wasn’t deterred by this. He had signed up for language classes online to help himself and his 10-year old Boxian to adapt better to the new environment.
His landlord was just as sceptical as everyone else when he had knocked on their door and introduced himself as the single-father who had taken interest in the mostly abandoned shop and apartment combination. Through gnarly communication in mixed English, French and some frustrated Mandarin; Yixing had gotten a tour of the grounds, as well as a document stating the place was his for the time being.
Boxian had looked at his father with some hesitation when the front door slammed shut behind their landlord. Yixing flicked on the lights and was happy electricity wasn’t a problem despite that they wavered nervously before shining evenly in the shop space. He, however, was a tiny bit cynical about the plumbing.
“Baba, this place is weird.” Boxian had tugged at Yixing’s hand, brown eyes round with apprehension.
“Maybe for now, but tomorrow it will all be better. I promise.” he carded his hand through Boxian’s black hair and promised himself they’d get through anything.
*
Now that dust particles didn’t float through the air and the countertops were wiped clean from old dirt and grime, the turquoise walls had a new shine to them, as did the black and white checker floor. Yixing was proud of the shop, despite that it was tiny and had been a disaster when he had stepped foot in there the first time. His landlord had looked at the playful paintings on the wall with a flicker of distaste in the corner of his eye, but he did not say much. The chink wouldn’t understand anyway, was the common consensus. Yixing had offered him Venus’ nipples in a sort-of apology mixed with a peace-offering. The man had grunted, eyed the tray of chocolates and excused himself with the justification of Lent. Yixing watched him leave the shop clutching his cell phone.
Yixing had never celebrated Lent. He had managed to piss off some of the inhabitants of the town by also refusing to attend service every Sunday, as well as by opening up a chocolaterie in the middle of a Christian holiday.
Soft music played in the background that Tuesday and he was in the middle of arranging a Mayan inspired window display when the bell on his front door tolled pleasantly, announcing the arrival of a new customer.
“Welcome!” Yixing called form the window where he had been engrossed in tinkering with the chocolates, his Chinese accent thick on his tongue. He stepped out of the window, smoothed out his clothes and was met by two of his regulars, a middle-aged French couple who loved his so called aphrodisiacs. The wife had recommended him on social media, which had boosted the flow of customers in the shop, something which Yixing still was grateful for, thanking them both with special gifts every now and then.
Life in the town was considerably easy, Yixing mused for himself when he waved goodbye to the couple after complimenting the wives blue dress and slipping an extra bag of chocolate covered almonds into their paper bag. They were two weeks into Lent and it made Yixing feel nostalgic, because last year had been eventful to say the least. Business slowed down and Mondays were usually slow, but Yixing didn’t have the luxury of being alone for too long, before Boxian barged through the front door and made a beeline for the stairs that led up to their apartment on the second floor.
“Boxian?” Yixing called out and hurried after his son, instantly alarmed, since Boxian should still be in school at this hour. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he stormed after the boy and judging by the determined stomps he had made a run for the alcove in his bedroom. True to his guesses, Yixing found Boxian’s shoes scattered by the door and his backpack beside them, and the curtains of the alcove were pulled shut.
“Boxian?” Yixing asked softly.
“Go away baba!” Boxian huffed; voice miserable and it broke Yixing’s heart every time. Boxian had problems fitting into the school system and Yixing knew he was bullied. He had contemplated pulling Boxian from school altogether, but it would’ve isolated the boy further.
“Boxian…” Yixing prompted and sat down beside the alcove. “What happened in school?”
“Nothing.”
“Do not lie to me,” Yixing admonished. “I know you’re upset.” Boxian’s breath hitched and it was clear he had been crying and was trying to cover it up. It saddened Yixing to know the kid was trying to put on a brave face.
“When are Yifan-gege and Zitao-gege coming back?” Boxian mumbled after a while of silence. Yixing tensed for a moment before he sighed ever so softly.
*
Yifan, Yixing knew, was a Chinese traveller who came and went with the same north wind that had brought Yixing to the town a year ago. His band of trucks had stopped outside town and they had come in to get some supplies and buy gasoline to continue their trip through rural France.
Boxian had ran into Yifan’s German shepherd mix when Yixing and he were walking back from the supermarket down the road, and was scared momentarily before Yifan had come running up to them, apologising profusely for his over-excited puppy’s behaviour. Boxian had fallen in love instantly with the dog and Yixing had been charmed by the gummy smile and soft voice that spoke a language he could fully understand. A young boy with messy, black hair tied in a ponytail, maybe a couple years older than Boxian, had ran up to Yifan a few minutes later, clung to his belt and whined he had been driven out of the convenience store for trying to buy a soda. Yifan had wrapped his arm around his shoulders and said they’d try again later. He introduced the boy as Zitao, his nephew, and both Boxian and Yixing were delighted.
Yixing soon learned that Yifan’s company was frowned upon where he lived. A bunch of no-good chinks the lot of them, seemed the general consent of the loud masses. Yixing couldn’t deny he knew how it felt and offered the two to come over for chocolates and company anytime while the other travellers sought supplies from friendlier faces.
“You’re in bad company.” he had warned when Yixing ladled some hot chocolate into cups and offered it to Yifan and Zitao when they came by later the same week. They even brought Ace, their dog, much to Boxian’s delight.
Zitao downed the chocolate like he was starving and his face was a mess from being so sloppy. Yixing filled his cup again with a smile on his face. Zitao gurgled happily and kicked his feet in the air behind the bar desk.
“How so?” he asked with a dimpled smile.
“They don’t like our kind here.”
“They aren’t particularly fond of me either,” Yixing confessed. “I’m choosing to make the best of it though.”
“What’s not to like about someone who makes chocolate this nice?” Zitao piped up and blinked his big eyes at Yixing.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Yixing confessed fondly. After a moment of silent musing he spoke up, “Will you let me guess your favourite chocolate?”
When Zitao had nodded enthusiastically, Yixing had asked Boxian, who had been busy playing with Ace on the floor, to bring the spinning plate to him. It was something his mother had gifted him with a long time ago and it was a treasure to him. It was a plate, decorated with various mythical creatures from Chinese folklore, and its purpose was to function like a spinning top.
“Look at the spinning plate and tell baba what you see,” Boxian instructed with as much professionalism as he could fit into his tiny body. “The first thing that comes into your mind!” he prompted. And Zitao stared hard at the spinning plate and Yixing swore he could see the cogs turn in the boys head while he concentrated on the plate. Yifan perked his eyebrows with interest, too.
“I see…” he hesitated for a second. “I see a running dog or a wolf. Tall trees… And that’s about it.” he mused and looked expectantly at Yixing.
“A wild one, clearly,” Yixing mused with a tiny smile on his lips, as he walked over to the display where a large assortment of pralines was placed. He took out a plate and presented the sweets to Zitao. "Dark chocolate with a berry trail mix blended into it. Try it."
Zitao hesitantly took one of the pralines into his hand and tasted it, his features scrunching up momentarily before the boy shone up like the sun and he looked positively teary-eyed.
“It’s so good, ge!” he wailed reverently. Yixing chuckled and presented Zitao with more sweets.
“Zitao don’t eat everything, you’ll have to pay for it too.” Yifan reminded him with mild amusement in his voice. Zitao pinked at the mention of money and put down the sweets he had been about to eat next.
“It’s okay,” Yixing chuckled. “Have as many as you like. It’s my gift to you.”
Zitao smiled broadly at Yixing, as if Christmas had come early. Ace whined next to Zitao. The dog was salivating and Boxian’s attempts to distract the mutt weren’t that successful.
“Will you let me guess what your favourite is too?” Yixing asked Yifan after a moment filled of gentle guitar music pouring out of the speakers.
“Huh?” Yifan perked from having reprimanded Ace from begging at the table.
“Your favourite chocolate? I think I know what you like.” Yixing turned to his shelves and displays for another sample.
“You can’t possibly know what I like.”
“Baba’s really good at guessing and he’s never failed!” Boxian protested and Yixing smiled fondly at his son, before he retrieved a tray of extra dark truffles.
“You’re right, Yifan, but I can make a decent guess,” he offered the tray to the other man. “You seem like a man who likes dark mocha flavoured chocolate with some sweet caramel cream filling.”
Yifan regarded the chocolate with furrowed brows before popping one into his mouth, savouring the richness of the cream, the bitterness of coffee and the smooth texture of the ganache. Yixing looked on with ill-kept curiosity and the boys were almost holding their breaths waiting to see if Yixing had been right about Yifan’s favourite.
Yifan’s severe demeanour let up momentarily and he smiled fondly at Yixing, before he swallowed the delicacy.
“It’s beautiful,” he smiled, gums showing and eyes twinkling. Yixing grinned, but Yifan continued, “But it’s not my favourite.”
“Oh,” Yixing looked fascinated for a moment, before determination took over and he took back the truffles, to come back with something entirely else. “Try this - a milk chocolate ganache, with an orange liqueur filling.”
Yixing bit his lip as he regarded Yifan sucking and chewing on the praline. He looked concentrated as he took his time tasting the confection.
“Very nice. But not my favourite.” Yifan grinned, and Yixing huffed.
So started a series of intense testing, because Yixing was stubborn and Yifan was relentless. Boxian and Zitao had given up after the fourth round and bid the adults farewell to go play some football outside the shop. Ace had keeled over on his side and snoozed peacefully.
“You’re just saying they aren’t your favourites because you want me to keep feeding you free samples.” Yixing gasped exasperatedly and very nearly flipped the entire tray of chocolates into Yifan’s lap.
“Now, now, I might be a traveller, but I’m an honest one!” Yifan laughed, chocolate smudged around his tiny mouth from having received multiple confections, one sweeter than the other. “I wouldn’t sit here and rob a true craftsman of his art.” he stood up from his seat and mock-bowed at Yixing. Yixing scoffed and deposited the chocolates back into the chilled display. He was amused, however and let it show when he turned back to Yifan.
“How long are you staying in town?”
“We’ll see. No one has made a schedule.” Zitao and Boxian’s screaming laughter interrupted him briefly and roused Ace from the checker floor. The dog yapped at the sound outside and begged to get out.
“I see,” Yixing hummed, mostly to himself. “That’s good.”
“How?”
“Come back and let me try finding your favourite again? Oh and-” Yixing turned back to the chocolates and quickly packed a tiny box full of the trail mix confections Zitao had loved. “These are for Zitao.”
“You don-”
“I know. But I want to.”
Yifan took the offered box and smiled softly at Yixing.
“I suppose I’ll see you around,” he waved a little when he got out through the door. “Thank you.”
“See you.”
*
Yixing stood in the liqueur section of the shop specialised in wines and spirits. He wondered if egg liqueur would be a nice twist to his usual filled confections, instead of orange or cream alcohol. He decided it wouldn’t hurt to try at least. It was rather silent in the shop and only a couple of other customers had made their way to stock up for the incoming Sunday when everything would be closed in town. Yixing had planned to be open and maybe even offer a chocolate covered brunch, but he wasn’t sure yet. Lent was still looming over the town and despite all his good intentions, people might not see it the same way as he did.
He ended up picking out a couple of bottles of cooking wine as well, just in case. He still remembered last year when he had invited some of his closer friends from town to celebrate with chocolates and good food. People hadn’t expected to find Yifan and part of his crew there and the atmosphere had been a bit awkward to say the least. Yifan had taken it in stride and allowed the curious to ask him questions which at time could’ve been invasive and even rude. Yixing hadn’t had to calm anyone down, except for maybe Zitao and Boxian when they got too rowdy.
After paying for his purchases he headed back to the shop, passing the church as he did. Sometimes he wondered if things would be different if he had become a devout member of the religious community and attended Mass every Sunday. Would he be regarded otherwise if his sweaters were monochromatic instead of brightly coloured, and his jeans dark grey instead of light chinos underneath his mint apron with the chic logo printed on the chest part? Boxian had mentioned the kids at school thought he was Satan’s accomplish for not being like every other dad in the community. Then they had continued with bullying Boxian about not having a mother, which wasn’t true and Yixing made sure the boy knew this. Yixing sighed and trudged on across the windy square in front of the church.
Boxian had come home early and Yixing found him in the kitchenette of their apartment, head first in the fridge.
“Found anything you like?” he forwent any greeting and Boxian’s head snapped in his direction.
“No baba,” he turned back to stare aimlessly into the stocked shelves. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?” Yixing proceeded to unload his purchases into cupboards and the pantry. The boy next to him shrugged and closed the fridge door absentmindedly. Yixing handed him one of the boxed juices he knew Boxian liked from his shopping bag and petted him on the head when the kid visibly brightened.
“Zitao-gege likes this juice too.” Boxian smiled around the straw.
“Do you miss him?” Yixing asked, a vaguely sentimental feeling setting in the pit of his stomach. Boxian nodded vigorously.
“And Ace!” Boxian grinned, his eyes turning into crescents and Yixing laughed at this, because of course he missed the dog. “Yifan-gege too, despite his super scary face…” Boxian certainly looked a little embarrassed after admitting this, but Yixing bent down and kissed the top of his head with a smile on his face.
“I won’t tell Yifan-gege you think his face is scary, if we see him.” he promised his son.
“Can we try calling him?” Boxian looked up at his dad with hope pooling in his eyes. As much as Yixing would love to indulge his son, he was afraid to tell him that Yifan’s number hadn’t been in service for almost a year, neither had he answered any Line messages after he had left. The other had no social media accounts either and it frustrated Yixing.
“Do your homework first, then we’ll see.” he answered as truthfully as he could, despite his smile didn’t reach his eyes this time. Boxian didn’t seem to notice as he hopped away from the kitchen to start on his homework, singing the latest Lady GaGa song with gusto as he did. Yixing sighed and looked into the pantry to see if it held any answers to the longing he had tried to suppress for the past eleven months. The canned tomatoes and beans only held a silence he wasn’t too fond of. Yixing had tried to keep Boxian in the dark of how angry his was with Yifan leaving without notice or a proper goodbye. The boy didn’t need to know. He shut the pantry with an aggravated slam.
*
Lent had passed, as had several weeks and Yifan was still in town despite he had talked about leaving for days. The cars and trailers however remained in their parking spots, and had collected a fair share of dust during the time. By now the townsfolk had gotten moderately used to the presence of the travellers and the occasional breaks they created in the sleepy routine.
Summer was kicking in and the chocolaterie’s kitchen was unbearably hot from the several pans and pots which simmered on the stoves. Yixing had switched into baking at night when it was cooler and he had invested in an air conditioner to make the shop a bit more bearable. He hadn’t been able to create as fantastical window displays as he would’ve wanted to because of the sunlight shining into it and he abhorred any plastic replicas.
It was after closing time and he was mopping the floor from dust whilst Boxian was busy polishing the display windows when the bell at the door tolled.
“Sorry, we’re closed- Oh?” Yixing was interrupted by Zitao and Yifan’s smiling faces, and Boxian lit up like a candle. “Hello!”
“I know, but we thought we’d chance a visit anyway,” Yifan shrugged. His cheeks and shoulders were sunburnt and his hair was getting into his eyes. “Taotao wanted to see if Boxian wanted to come play football now that the weather isn’t so hot.” Zitao grinned sheepishly at the accusation and shoved at his uncle before he was put in a headlock.
Yixing laughed and put aside the mop while the two struggled. “Boxian can come and play after we finish tidying up and closing the shop.”
“Baba…” Boxian huffed and pouted at his father. Normally it would’ve melted polar ice caps and Yixing’s heart, but there were a couple of things that Yixing didn’t negotiate with Boxian.
“Young man, there’s not much left and if we do it together it’d be done even faster.”
“But baba, can’t I go play? Please?” Boxian laced his fingers together in front of himself and jutted out his bottom lip so much it was comedic. Yifan had a hard time controlling his face and ended up laughing his awkwardly hoarse laugh, holding onto the door frame to steady himself. Yifan’s laughing made the others snicker and soon Yixing was chuckling as were Boxian and Zitao.
“How about this Boxian? I help your baba close the shop, you boys go play some ball and we’ll come get you when we’re done, ok?” Yifan made a show of wiping his eyes from laughing so hard.
“You’re the best gege!” Boxian exclaimed with sparkling eyes and before Yixing could consent to the idea, both boys had escaped from the shop and were running down to the nearby park. Yixing stared after the boys and then he pinned Yifan with his gaze. Yifan might’ve swallowed audibly, for Yixing’s shoulders had tensed and his posture wasn’t as relaxed as thirty seconds ago.
“I’m so-” Yifan began, but was cut off by a flick of Yixing’s wrist.
“No you’re not,” he declared with a dejected sigh. “You can mop the floors and I’ll go get started with the dishes. Do not try to half-ass it; I want the floors to shine and I promise I’ll have you mop it again if I’m not satisfied. Come back to the kitchen when you’re done.” Yixing made a slightly dramatic exit and left Yifan to take care of the rest of the shop.
“Yes Sir.” Yifan grinned at Yixing’s retreating back and almost knocked over the bucket when he started mopping.
Yixing had plugged his phone into a small set of travel speakers, and was singing along to an older Jolin Tsai song while he did the dishes. He planned on investing in a proper washer when his finances allowed him, as well as hiring a helping hand who could handle the customer service aspect in the shop so he could focus more on research and on making the chocolates. Yixing was wriggling along to the song as he scrubbed the tempering block clean from caked on chocolate, when Yifan stepped into the kitchen.
“So this is where the magic happens.” he commented lamely and Yixing dropped his sponge from the surprise.
“Christ, don’t scare me like that,” he scolded, cheeks slightly pink from having been caught red handed from the impromptu dancing. “And yes, this is where all your un-favourites are made.” he picked up the sponge and continued scrubbing. Behind him, Yifan laughed good-naturedly.
“You’re never going to let that one go, are you?” he smiled as he crossed the kitchen and hovered around Yixing to see if there was something he could maybe pick up.
“Not until I find your favourite, no,” Yixing huffed and wiped his brow from sweat. He could feel it trickle down his back between his shoulder blades and it disgusted him. He definitely needed a shower when he was done down here. “Pick up a towel; you can start drying the dishes. I suppose you know where everything goes by now.” he instructed and rinsed the tempering block before handing it to Yifan.
A comfortable silence settled between them, only broken by rhythmic drum music which played in the background. Yifan didn’t attempt small-talk and Yixing was intent on getting the dishes done as efficiently as possible so he could attend to other matters that waited him, like book-keeping and his language courses to keep up with what Boxian was learning in school. He’d have to go through his inventory too at some point and contact his supplier for goods.
“Zitao likes Boxian.” Yifan commented out of the blue. Yixing almost flinched, having nearly forgotten he stood next to Yifan doing dishes.
“Well, Boxian likes Zitao too,” Yixing hummed with a smile on his lips. “It’s good there’s someone speaking Mandarin with him so he won’t forget.”
“You speak Mandarin with him, don’t you?” Yifan raised one thick eyebrow and it looked a bit comical, since it disappeared behind his long bangs.
“I try to speak French with him too so he would have it easier in school. The other kids don’t really seem to accept him right now, so I try to make it easier for him to adapt.” Yixing mused and he realised he had stopped scrubbing the plate he had in his hands.
“Do they bully him?” Yifan asked.
“I have a sneaking suspicion they do. Most of the time it seems to be because of me, not him. Boxian is a good boy.” Yixing sighed and his shoulders sagged. How many times hadn’t Boxian come home with a wobbling lower lip and scraped knees, asking for a hug and band-aids for his bruises.
“What do you mean, if you don’t mind me asking?” the dishes were more or less forgotten by now, and Yixing was silent for a good while before he looked up at Yifan and smiled a bit forlornly.
“You might’ve noticed there’s no Mrs Zhang to be found in the house,” he rinsed his hands under the hot spray of water. When Yifan didn’t say anything he continued, “It also seems to be a bit of a problem that we don’t attend service on Sundays, much less respect the sanctity of Lent, not to mention we are those suspicious chinks…” by now Yixing’s tone was a bit distressed and his movement around the kitchen less poised. He sighed audibly and shrunk a bit next to Yifan. “I’m sorry; I got a bit agitated there.”
“No worries,” Yifan laid a gentle hand on Yixing’s shoulder and squeezed a bit before he let go. “I think I can sort of relate.”
Yixing smiled warily and nudged Yifan in the arm with his bare elbow. “But yeah, basically… Boxian gets shit for having a father who dresses too colourfully and having an absent mother,” Yixing pursed his lips and twisted his fingers in front of him. “He does have a mother though and she’s somewhere in China but we don’t know who she is. And hanging out with Zitao and you doesn’t seem to aid the situation…” Yixing blurted and realised a few seconds later how wrong it had sounded. “Fuck! I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, Jesus…”
“We can always leave if it is a problem for you.” Yifan looked every shade of thunderous you could imagine and his mouth was set in a stiff line. He pushed away from the countertop he had been leaning against and Yixing panicked.
“No, no, no. It is not and I’m so sorry for making it sound like that,” Yixing reached for Yifan’s hand to keep him from leaving. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Yifan.”
“I’m not here to cause problems you know,” Yifan made clear. “And clearly, you’re not having it easy.”
“Don’t be silly, Boxian adores you and Zitao. He’ll have a harder time if you just disappear because I was an arse!” Yixing exclaimed, a bit of desperation colouring the tone of his voice. “Please forgive me?” Yixing hated to plead and admit he had been an arse, but losing friendships was something he hated more.
Yifan seemed to ponder over this for a while, before he nodded silently. Relief flooded Yixing’s body and he almost sobbed. Yifan’s face was still set in a grim mask, but his eyes seemed to have lost the sharp edge they had mere moments ago.
“Do you mind terribly if I go change my shirt before we get the kids?” Yixing gestured to the front of his shirt, littered with specks of chocolate and powdered sugar. “You can help yourself with the left-overs from today if you want. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” he pointed to a tray on the kitchen table where a mixed assortment of confections stood, before he darted out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the apartment.
Yixing had managed to change his shirt into something nicer and cleaner without having a mental breakdown over his behaviour and had made it back downstairs in less than ten minutes. Yifan had seated himself beside the kitchen table and seemingly ignored the prompt to have as many sweets he liked. Instead he was messing with his phone and Yixing’s heart sank and he wriggled his hands nervously behind his back, because if chocolates weren’t helping then what would?
“Shall we go?” he asked with an attempt of a smile on his face and Yifan nodded with a stern expression. As they made it through the shop, Yixing noticed that Yifan had followed his orders to make sure the floor shined bright. Guilt knocked behind his ear and he reached out to touch Yifan’s shoulder briefly.
“Thank you, Yifan. The floor looks marvellous.” he said with as much sincerity he could pack into one sentence.
“Don’t mention it.” the taller huffed and held the door open so Yixing could pass through it, before he turned and locked it.
They walked in silence to the football field, downhill from where the chocolaterie was situated. The air smelled of dust and Yixing swung his arms freely by his side, trying to lessen the heavy air around the two of them. Yifan walked silently behind him on a slight distance. Yixing regarded him from time to time, trying to figure out if the firmly set lips and proud posture was a sign of him not wanting to talk, or if Yifan felt as uncomfortable as Yixing was feeling. He knew he couldn’t keep apologising forever, but he felt he needed to do something in order to rectify what had happened.
“Yifan,” he tried a bit timidly. Yifan recognised him by grunting and it made Yixing smile. “The kids will realise we didn’t come here as the best of friends…” Yixing started.
“We’re not best friends.” Yifan deadpanned and Yixing flinched at the harshness of the words.
“I know,” he sighed. “But Zitao and you have been visiting us almost every day the past weeks, so they might think otherwise about this…” Yixing ran a hand through his hair and stopped in front of Yifan. The taller didn’t say much but the frigid air was still thick around him.
“I’m not asking to be your best friend Yifan,” Yixing continued after not getting any answers from the other. “Please, despite I was a complete arse earlier, consider me as a friend, because I do like you and Zitao.” his cheeks heated at the confession and he wanted to believe it was because of the late afternoon sun and warmth and not the words he had just spoken. He held Yifan’s gaze bravely, despite he wanted to turn away at several occasions, but he found he wasn’t afraid, as much as he was nervous about getting recognition.
People passed them in the streets and some whispered heatedly between them, which was unnecessary considering neither of them knew enough French to take their words into consideration. Some huffed at them for blocking the road and pushed at them to get through.
“Has anyone told you you’re fucking stubborn?” Yifan grumbled and wrapped an arm around Yixing’s shoulders to keep him from being walked into. There was laughter in the corner of his eyes and Yixing relaxed against him and let Yifan lead him towards the park.
“My mother yelled at me all the time.” Yixing smiled.
*
Part II
Author: gaussianblur89/89-archives/oeei
Rating: R
Beta: amlui
Pairings: Yixing/Yifan
Genre: AU, romance
Warnings: Racism, derogatory terminology, language and obscene amounts of chocolate
Summary: “What’s not to like about someone who makes chocolate this nice?” Zitao piped up and blinked his big eyes at Yixing.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Yixing confessed fondly. After a moment of silent musing he spoke up, “Will you let me guess your favourite chocolate?”
Comments: Prompt #16 for kissfanxing's Valentine's Day fic fest. Extensive A/N at the end of fic. Enjoy~
Word count: 10 394.
“Chocolate is the first luxury. It has so many things wrapped up in it: Deliciousness in the moment, childhood memories, and that grin-inducing feeling of getting a reward for being good.”
- Mariska Hargitay
*
Yixing wiped his brow as he rolled the cocoa beans under the rolling pin. His mother had never agreed on getting modern appliances to do the grinding of the beans for you, something which he never had understood, until now. There was a refined touch to it, much like making your own paint from raw pigments. Yixing smiled to himself as he looked over the ground beans, deeming the powder fine enough to be blended with rich cream.
Despite the kitchen of his chocolaterie being warm from the slowly simmering pots and pans, outside was nippy. Spring was attempting to take over from winter, but the winds still rattled the windowpanes and Yixing had admitted defeat to it, choosing to keep his front door shut instead of open for customers. He worried if the daffodils he had potted would make it until Easter.
*
Yixing had opened his shop in the middle of a tiny French village almost a year ago to date. He and his son had stepped off the bus, carrying only a backpack and suitcase each. It was a quiet village, something Yixing didn’t mind, save from the occasional aeroplanes that passed overhead and cars which drove by. People had eyed them with curious contempt, something Yixing tried to counter with a smile every time he passed someone in the street. His French was still very basic and he lacked the greater understanding of the finesse in intonation, which often led to misunderstandings and embarrassed smiles. Yixing however, wasn’t deterred by this. He had signed up for language classes online to help himself and his 10-year old Boxian to adapt better to the new environment.
His landlord was just as sceptical as everyone else when he had knocked on their door and introduced himself as the single-father who had taken interest in the mostly abandoned shop and apartment combination. Through gnarly communication in mixed English, French and some frustrated Mandarin; Yixing had gotten a tour of the grounds, as well as a document stating the place was his for the time being.
Boxian had looked at his father with some hesitation when the front door slammed shut behind their landlord. Yixing flicked on the lights and was happy electricity wasn’t a problem despite that they wavered nervously before shining evenly in the shop space. He, however, was a tiny bit cynical about the plumbing.
“Baba, this place is weird.” Boxian had tugged at Yixing’s hand, brown eyes round with apprehension.
“Maybe for now, but tomorrow it will all be better. I promise.” he carded his hand through Boxian’s black hair and promised himself they’d get through anything.
*
Now that dust particles didn’t float through the air and the countertops were wiped clean from old dirt and grime, the turquoise walls had a new shine to them, as did the black and white checker floor. Yixing was proud of the shop, despite that it was tiny and had been a disaster when he had stepped foot in there the first time. His landlord had looked at the playful paintings on the wall with a flicker of distaste in the corner of his eye, but he did not say much. The chink wouldn’t understand anyway, was the common consensus. Yixing had offered him Venus’ nipples in a sort-of apology mixed with a peace-offering. The man had grunted, eyed the tray of chocolates and excused himself with the justification of Lent. Yixing watched him leave the shop clutching his cell phone.
Yixing had never celebrated Lent. He had managed to piss off some of the inhabitants of the town by also refusing to attend service every Sunday, as well as by opening up a chocolaterie in the middle of a Christian holiday.
Soft music played in the background that Tuesday and he was in the middle of arranging a Mayan inspired window display when the bell on his front door tolled pleasantly, announcing the arrival of a new customer.
“Welcome!” Yixing called form the window where he had been engrossed in tinkering with the chocolates, his Chinese accent thick on his tongue. He stepped out of the window, smoothed out his clothes and was met by two of his regulars, a middle-aged French couple who loved his so called aphrodisiacs. The wife had recommended him on social media, which had boosted the flow of customers in the shop, something which Yixing still was grateful for, thanking them both with special gifts every now and then.
Life in the town was considerably easy, Yixing mused for himself when he waved goodbye to the couple after complimenting the wives blue dress and slipping an extra bag of chocolate covered almonds into their paper bag. They were two weeks into Lent and it made Yixing feel nostalgic, because last year had been eventful to say the least. Business slowed down and Mondays were usually slow, but Yixing didn’t have the luxury of being alone for too long, before Boxian barged through the front door and made a beeline for the stairs that led up to their apartment on the second floor.
“Boxian?” Yixing called out and hurried after his son, instantly alarmed, since Boxian should still be in school at this hour. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he stormed after the boy and judging by the determined stomps he had made a run for the alcove in his bedroom. True to his guesses, Yixing found Boxian’s shoes scattered by the door and his backpack beside them, and the curtains of the alcove were pulled shut.
“Boxian?” Yixing asked softly.
“Go away baba!” Boxian huffed; voice miserable and it broke Yixing’s heart every time. Boxian had problems fitting into the school system and Yixing knew he was bullied. He had contemplated pulling Boxian from school altogether, but it would’ve isolated the boy further.
“Boxian…” Yixing prompted and sat down beside the alcove. “What happened in school?”
“Nothing.”
“Do not lie to me,” Yixing admonished. “I know you’re upset.” Boxian’s breath hitched and it was clear he had been crying and was trying to cover it up. It saddened Yixing to know the kid was trying to put on a brave face.
“When are Yifan-gege and Zitao-gege coming back?” Boxian mumbled after a while of silence. Yixing tensed for a moment before he sighed ever so softly.
*
Yifan, Yixing knew, was a Chinese traveller who came and went with the same north wind that had brought Yixing to the town a year ago. His band of trucks had stopped outside town and they had come in to get some supplies and buy gasoline to continue their trip through rural France.
Boxian had ran into Yifan’s German shepherd mix when Yixing and he were walking back from the supermarket down the road, and was scared momentarily before Yifan had come running up to them, apologising profusely for his over-excited puppy’s behaviour. Boxian had fallen in love instantly with the dog and Yixing had been charmed by the gummy smile and soft voice that spoke a language he could fully understand. A young boy with messy, black hair tied in a ponytail, maybe a couple years older than Boxian, had ran up to Yifan a few minutes later, clung to his belt and whined he had been driven out of the convenience store for trying to buy a soda. Yifan had wrapped his arm around his shoulders and said they’d try again later. He introduced the boy as Zitao, his nephew, and both Boxian and Yixing were delighted.
Yixing soon learned that Yifan’s company was frowned upon where he lived. A bunch of no-good chinks the lot of them, seemed the general consent of the loud masses. Yixing couldn’t deny he knew how it felt and offered the two to come over for chocolates and company anytime while the other travellers sought supplies from friendlier faces.
“You’re in bad company.” he had warned when Yixing ladled some hot chocolate into cups and offered it to Yifan and Zitao when they came by later the same week. They even brought Ace, their dog, much to Boxian’s delight.
Zitao downed the chocolate like he was starving and his face was a mess from being so sloppy. Yixing filled his cup again with a smile on his face. Zitao gurgled happily and kicked his feet in the air behind the bar desk.
“How so?” he asked with a dimpled smile.
“They don’t like our kind here.”
“They aren’t particularly fond of me either,” Yixing confessed. “I’m choosing to make the best of it though.”
“What’s not to like about someone who makes chocolate this nice?” Zitao piped up and blinked his big eyes at Yixing.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Yixing confessed fondly. After a moment of silent musing he spoke up, “Will you let me guess your favourite chocolate?”
When Zitao had nodded enthusiastically, Yixing had asked Boxian, who had been busy playing with Ace on the floor, to bring the spinning plate to him. It was something his mother had gifted him with a long time ago and it was a treasure to him. It was a plate, decorated with various mythical creatures from Chinese folklore, and its purpose was to function like a spinning top.
“Look at the spinning plate and tell baba what you see,” Boxian instructed with as much professionalism as he could fit into his tiny body. “The first thing that comes into your mind!” he prompted. And Zitao stared hard at the spinning plate and Yixing swore he could see the cogs turn in the boys head while he concentrated on the plate. Yifan perked his eyebrows with interest, too.
“I see…” he hesitated for a second. “I see a running dog or a wolf. Tall trees… And that’s about it.” he mused and looked expectantly at Yixing.
“A wild one, clearly,” Yixing mused with a tiny smile on his lips, as he walked over to the display where a large assortment of pralines was placed. He took out a plate and presented the sweets to Zitao. "Dark chocolate with a berry trail mix blended into it. Try it."
Zitao hesitantly took one of the pralines into his hand and tasted it, his features scrunching up momentarily before the boy shone up like the sun and he looked positively teary-eyed.
“It’s so good, ge!” he wailed reverently. Yixing chuckled and presented Zitao with more sweets.
“Zitao don’t eat everything, you’ll have to pay for it too.” Yifan reminded him with mild amusement in his voice. Zitao pinked at the mention of money and put down the sweets he had been about to eat next.
“It’s okay,” Yixing chuckled. “Have as many as you like. It’s my gift to you.”
Zitao smiled broadly at Yixing, as if Christmas had come early. Ace whined next to Zitao. The dog was salivating and Boxian’s attempts to distract the mutt weren’t that successful.
“Will you let me guess what your favourite is too?” Yixing asked Yifan after a moment filled of gentle guitar music pouring out of the speakers.
“Huh?” Yifan perked from having reprimanded Ace from begging at the table.
“Your favourite chocolate? I think I know what you like.” Yixing turned to his shelves and displays for another sample.
“You can’t possibly know what I like.”
“Baba’s really good at guessing and he’s never failed!” Boxian protested and Yixing smiled fondly at his son, before he retrieved a tray of extra dark truffles.
“You’re right, Yifan, but I can make a decent guess,” he offered the tray to the other man. “You seem like a man who likes dark mocha flavoured chocolate with some sweet caramel cream filling.”
Yifan regarded the chocolate with furrowed brows before popping one into his mouth, savouring the richness of the cream, the bitterness of coffee and the smooth texture of the ganache. Yixing looked on with ill-kept curiosity and the boys were almost holding their breaths waiting to see if Yixing had been right about Yifan’s favourite.
Yifan’s severe demeanour let up momentarily and he smiled fondly at Yixing, before he swallowed the delicacy.
“It’s beautiful,” he smiled, gums showing and eyes twinkling. Yixing grinned, but Yifan continued, “But it’s not my favourite.”
“Oh,” Yixing looked fascinated for a moment, before determination took over and he took back the truffles, to come back with something entirely else. “Try this - a milk chocolate ganache, with an orange liqueur filling.”
Yixing bit his lip as he regarded Yifan sucking and chewing on the praline. He looked concentrated as he took his time tasting the confection.
“Very nice. But not my favourite.” Yifan grinned, and Yixing huffed.
So started a series of intense testing, because Yixing was stubborn and Yifan was relentless. Boxian and Zitao had given up after the fourth round and bid the adults farewell to go play some football outside the shop. Ace had keeled over on his side and snoozed peacefully.
“You’re just saying they aren’t your favourites because you want me to keep feeding you free samples.” Yixing gasped exasperatedly and very nearly flipped the entire tray of chocolates into Yifan’s lap.
“Now, now, I might be a traveller, but I’m an honest one!” Yifan laughed, chocolate smudged around his tiny mouth from having received multiple confections, one sweeter than the other. “I wouldn’t sit here and rob a true craftsman of his art.” he stood up from his seat and mock-bowed at Yixing. Yixing scoffed and deposited the chocolates back into the chilled display. He was amused, however and let it show when he turned back to Yifan.
“How long are you staying in town?”
“We’ll see. No one has made a schedule.” Zitao and Boxian’s screaming laughter interrupted him briefly and roused Ace from the checker floor. The dog yapped at the sound outside and begged to get out.
“I see,” Yixing hummed, mostly to himself. “That’s good.”
“How?”
“Come back and let me try finding your favourite again? Oh and-” Yixing turned back to the chocolates and quickly packed a tiny box full of the trail mix confections Zitao had loved. “These are for Zitao.”
“You don-”
“I know. But I want to.”
Yifan took the offered box and smiled softly at Yixing.
“I suppose I’ll see you around,” he waved a little when he got out through the door. “Thank you.”
“See you.”
*
Yixing stood in the liqueur section of the shop specialised in wines and spirits. He wondered if egg liqueur would be a nice twist to his usual filled confections, instead of orange or cream alcohol. He decided it wouldn’t hurt to try at least. It was rather silent in the shop and only a couple of other customers had made their way to stock up for the incoming Sunday when everything would be closed in town. Yixing had planned to be open and maybe even offer a chocolate covered brunch, but he wasn’t sure yet. Lent was still looming over the town and despite all his good intentions, people might not see it the same way as he did.
He ended up picking out a couple of bottles of cooking wine as well, just in case. He still remembered last year when he had invited some of his closer friends from town to celebrate with chocolates and good food. People hadn’t expected to find Yifan and part of his crew there and the atmosphere had been a bit awkward to say the least. Yifan had taken it in stride and allowed the curious to ask him questions which at time could’ve been invasive and even rude. Yixing hadn’t had to calm anyone down, except for maybe Zitao and Boxian when they got too rowdy.
After paying for his purchases he headed back to the shop, passing the church as he did. Sometimes he wondered if things would be different if he had become a devout member of the religious community and attended Mass every Sunday. Would he be regarded otherwise if his sweaters were monochromatic instead of brightly coloured, and his jeans dark grey instead of light chinos underneath his mint apron with the chic logo printed on the chest part? Boxian had mentioned the kids at school thought he was Satan’s accomplish for not being like every other dad in the community. Then they had continued with bullying Boxian about not having a mother, which wasn’t true and Yixing made sure the boy knew this. Yixing sighed and trudged on across the windy square in front of the church.
Boxian had come home early and Yixing found him in the kitchenette of their apartment, head first in the fridge.
“Found anything you like?” he forwent any greeting and Boxian’s head snapped in his direction.
“No baba,” he turned back to stare aimlessly into the stocked shelves. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?” Yixing proceeded to unload his purchases into cupboards and the pantry. The boy next to him shrugged and closed the fridge door absentmindedly. Yixing handed him one of the boxed juices he knew Boxian liked from his shopping bag and petted him on the head when the kid visibly brightened.
“Zitao-gege likes this juice too.” Boxian smiled around the straw.
“Do you miss him?” Yixing asked, a vaguely sentimental feeling setting in the pit of his stomach. Boxian nodded vigorously.
“And Ace!” Boxian grinned, his eyes turning into crescents and Yixing laughed at this, because of course he missed the dog. “Yifan-gege too, despite his super scary face…” Boxian certainly looked a little embarrassed after admitting this, but Yixing bent down and kissed the top of his head with a smile on his face.
“I won’t tell Yifan-gege you think his face is scary, if we see him.” he promised his son.
“Can we try calling him?” Boxian looked up at his dad with hope pooling in his eyes. As much as Yixing would love to indulge his son, he was afraid to tell him that Yifan’s number hadn’t been in service for almost a year, neither had he answered any Line messages after he had left. The other had no social media accounts either and it frustrated Yixing.
“Do your homework first, then we’ll see.” he answered as truthfully as he could, despite his smile didn’t reach his eyes this time. Boxian didn’t seem to notice as he hopped away from the kitchen to start on his homework, singing the latest Lady GaGa song with gusto as he did. Yixing sighed and looked into the pantry to see if it held any answers to the longing he had tried to suppress for the past eleven months. The canned tomatoes and beans only held a silence he wasn’t too fond of. Yixing had tried to keep Boxian in the dark of how angry his was with Yifan leaving without notice or a proper goodbye. The boy didn’t need to know. He shut the pantry with an aggravated slam.
*
Lent had passed, as had several weeks and Yifan was still in town despite he had talked about leaving for days. The cars and trailers however remained in their parking spots, and had collected a fair share of dust during the time. By now the townsfolk had gotten moderately used to the presence of the travellers and the occasional breaks they created in the sleepy routine.
Summer was kicking in and the chocolaterie’s kitchen was unbearably hot from the several pans and pots which simmered on the stoves. Yixing had switched into baking at night when it was cooler and he had invested in an air conditioner to make the shop a bit more bearable. He hadn’t been able to create as fantastical window displays as he would’ve wanted to because of the sunlight shining into it and he abhorred any plastic replicas.
It was after closing time and he was mopping the floor from dust whilst Boxian was busy polishing the display windows when the bell at the door tolled.
“Sorry, we’re closed- Oh?” Yixing was interrupted by Zitao and Yifan’s smiling faces, and Boxian lit up like a candle. “Hello!”
“I know, but we thought we’d chance a visit anyway,” Yifan shrugged. His cheeks and shoulders were sunburnt and his hair was getting into his eyes. “Taotao wanted to see if Boxian wanted to come play football now that the weather isn’t so hot.” Zitao grinned sheepishly at the accusation and shoved at his uncle before he was put in a headlock.
Yixing laughed and put aside the mop while the two struggled. “Boxian can come and play after we finish tidying up and closing the shop.”
“Baba…” Boxian huffed and pouted at his father. Normally it would’ve melted polar ice caps and Yixing’s heart, but there were a couple of things that Yixing didn’t negotiate with Boxian.
“Young man, there’s not much left and if we do it together it’d be done even faster.”
“But baba, can’t I go play? Please?” Boxian laced his fingers together in front of himself and jutted out his bottom lip so much it was comedic. Yifan had a hard time controlling his face and ended up laughing his awkwardly hoarse laugh, holding onto the door frame to steady himself. Yifan’s laughing made the others snicker and soon Yixing was chuckling as were Boxian and Zitao.
“How about this Boxian? I help your baba close the shop, you boys go play some ball and we’ll come get you when we’re done, ok?” Yifan made a show of wiping his eyes from laughing so hard.
“You’re the best gege!” Boxian exclaimed with sparkling eyes and before Yixing could consent to the idea, both boys had escaped from the shop and were running down to the nearby park. Yixing stared after the boys and then he pinned Yifan with his gaze. Yifan might’ve swallowed audibly, for Yixing’s shoulders had tensed and his posture wasn’t as relaxed as thirty seconds ago.
“I’m so-” Yifan began, but was cut off by a flick of Yixing’s wrist.
“No you’re not,” he declared with a dejected sigh. “You can mop the floors and I’ll go get started with the dishes. Do not try to half-ass it; I want the floors to shine and I promise I’ll have you mop it again if I’m not satisfied. Come back to the kitchen when you’re done.” Yixing made a slightly dramatic exit and left Yifan to take care of the rest of the shop.
“Yes Sir.” Yifan grinned at Yixing’s retreating back and almost knocked over the bucket when he started mopping.
Yixing had plugged his phone into a small set of travel speakers, and was singing along to an older Jolin Tsai song while he did the dishes. He planned on investing in a proper washer when his finances allowed him, as well as hiring a helping hand who could handle the customer service aspect in the shop so he could focus more on research and on making the chocolates. Yixing was wriggling along to the song as he scrubbed the tempering block clean from caked on chocolate, when Yifan stepped into the kitchen.
“So this is where the magic happens.” he commented lamely and Yixing dropped his sponge from the surprise.
“Christ, don’t scare me like that,” he scolded, cheeks slightly pink from having been caught red handed from the impromptu dancing. “And yes, this is where all your un-favourites are made.” he picked up the sponge and continued scrubbing. Behind him, Yifan laughed good-naturedly.
“You’re never going to let that one go, are you?” he smiled as he crossed the kitchen and hovered around Yixing to see if there was something he could maybe pick up.
“Not until I find your favourite, no,” Yixing huffed and wiped his brow from sweat. He could feel it trickle down his back between his shoulder blades and it disgusted him. He definitely needed a shower when he was done down here. “Pick up a towel; you can start drying the dishes. I suppose you know where everything goes by now.” he instructed and rinsed the tempering block before handing it to Yifan.
A comfortable silence settled between them, only broken by rhythmic drum music which played in the background. Yifan didn’t attempt small-talk and Yixing was intent on getting the dishes done as efficiently as possible so he could attend to other matters that waited him, like book-keeping and his language courses to keep up with what Boxian was learning in school. He’d have to go through his inventory too at some point and contact his supplier for goods.
“Zitao likes Boxian.” Yifan commented out of the blue. Yixing almost flinched, having nearly forgotten he stood next to Yifan doing dishes.
“Well, Boxian likes Zitao too,” Yixing hummed with a smile on his lips. “It’s good there’s someone speaking Mandarin with him so he won’t forget.”
“You speak Mandarin with him, don’t you?” Yifan raised one thick eyebrow and it looked a bit comical, since it disappeared behind his long bangs.
“I try to speak French with him too so he would have it easier in school. The other kids don’t really seem to accept him right now, so I try to make it easier for him to adapt.” Yixing mused and he realised he had stopped scrubbing the plate he had in his hands.
“Do they bully him?” Yifan asked.
“I have a sneaking suspicion they do. Most of the time it seems to be because of me, not him. Boxian is a good boy.” Yixing sighed and his shoulders sagged. How many times hadn’t Boxian come home with a wobbling lower lip and scraped knees, asking for a hug and band-aids for his bruises.
“What do you mean, if you don’t mind me asking?” the dishes were more or less forgotten by now, and Yixing was silent for a good while before he looked up at Yifan and smiled a bit forlornly.
“You might’ve noticed there’s no Mrs Zhang to be found in the house,” he rinsed his hands under the hot spray of water. When Yifan didn’t say anything he continued, “It also seems to be a bit of a problem that we don’t attend service on Sundays, much less respect the sanctity of Lent, not to mention we are those suspicious chinks…” by now Yixing’s tone was a bit distressed and his movement around the kitchen less poised. He sighed audibly and shrunk a bit next to Yifan. “I’m sorry; I got a bit agitated there.”
“No worries,” Yifan laid a gentle hand on Yixing’s shoulder and squeezed a bit before he let go. “I think I can sort of relate.”
Yixing smiled warily and nudged Yifan in the arm with his bare elbow. “But yeah, basically… Boxian gets shit for having a father who dresses too colourfully and having an absent mother,” Yixing pursed his lips and twisted his fingers in front of him. “He does have a mother though and she’s somewhere in China but we don’t know who she is. And hanging out with Zitao and you doesn’t seem to aid the situation…” Yixing blurted and realised a few seconds later how wrong it had sounded. “Fuck! I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, Jesus…”
“We can always leave if it is a problem for you.” Yifan looked every shade of thunderous you could imagine and his mouth was set in a stiff line. He pushed away from the countertop he had been leaning against and Yixing panicked.
“No, no, no. It is not and I’m so sorry for making it sound like that,” Yixing reached for Yifan’s hand to keep him from leaving. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Yifan.”
“I’m not here to cause problems you know,” Yifan made clear. “And clearly, you’re not having it easy.”
“Don’t be silly, Boxian adores you and Zitao. He’ll have a harder time if you just disappear because I was an arse!” Yixing exclaimed, a bit of desperation colouring the tone of his voice. “Please forgive me?” Yixing hated to plead and admit he had been an arse, but losing friendships was something he hated more.
Yifan seemed to ponder over this for a while, before he nodded silently. Relief flooded Yixing’s body and he almost sobbed. Yifan’s face was still set in a grim mask, but his eyes seemed to have lost the sharp edge they had mere moments ago.
“Do you mind terribly if I go change my shirt before we get the kids?” Yixing gestured to the front of his shirt, littered with specks of chocolate and powdered sugar. “You can help yourself with the left-overs from today if you want. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” he pointed to a tray on the kitchen table where a mixed assortment of confections stood, before he darted out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the apartment.
Yixing had managed to change his shirt into something nicer and cleaner without having a mental breakdown over his behaviour and had made it back downstairs in less than ten minutes. Yifan had seated himself beside the kitchen table and seemingly ignored the prompt to have as many sweets he liked. Instead he was messing with his phone and Yixing’s heart sank and he wriggled his hands nervously behind his back, because if chocolates weren’t helping then what would?
“Shall we go?” he asked with an attempt of a smile on his face and Yifan nodded with a stern expression. As they made it through the shop, Yixing noticed that Yifan had followed his orders to make sure the floor shined bright. Guilt knocked behind his ear and he reached out to touch Yifan’s shoulder briefly.
“Thank you, Yifan. The floor looks marvellous.” he said with as much sincerity he could pack into one sentence.
“Don’t mention it.” the taller huffed and held the door open so Yixing could pass through it, before he turned and locked it.
They walked in silence to the football field, downhill from where the chocolaterie was situated. The air smelled of dust and Yixing swung his arms freely by his side, trying to lessen the heavy air around the two of them. Yifan walked silently behind him on a slight distance. Yixing regarded him from time to time, trying to figure out if the firmly set lips and proud posture was a sign of him not wanting to talk, or if Yifan felt as uncomfortable as Yixing was feeling. He knew he couldn’t keep apologising forever, but he felt he needed to do something in order to rectify what had happened.
“Yifan,” he tried a bit timidly. Yifan recognised him by grunting and it made Yixing smile. “The kids will realise we didn’t come here as the best of friends…” Yixing started.
“We’re not best friends.” Yifan deadpanned and Yixing flinched at the harshness of the words.
“I know,” he sighed. “But Zitao and you have been visiting us almost every day the past weeks, so they might think otherwise about this…” Yixing ran a hand through his hair and stopped in front of Yifan. The taller didn’t say much but the frigid air was still thick around him.
“I’m not asking to be your best friend Yifan,” Yixing continued after not getting any answers from the other. “Please, despite I was a complete arse earlier, consider me as a friend, because I do like you and Zitao.” his cheeks heated at the confession and he wanted to believe it was because of the late afternoon sun and warmth and not the words he had just spoken. He held Yifan’s gaze bravely, despite he wanted to turn away at several occasions, but he found he wasn’t afraid, as much as he was nervous about getting recognition.
People passed them in the streets and some whispered heatedly between them, which was unnecessary considering neither of them knew enough French to take their words into consideration. Some huffed at them for blocking the road and pushed at them to get through.
“Has anyone told you you’re fucking stubborn?” Yifan grumbled and wrapped an arm around Yixing’s shoulders to keep him from being walked into. There was laughter in the corner of his eyes and Yixing relaxed against him and let Yifan lead him towards the park.
“My mother yelled at me all the time.” Yixing smiled.
*
Part II