[exo] (always) like the first time; kris/lay; r; [2/2]
part one;;-
The train ride up to Changsha takes an hour.
Yixing stares out the window, biting his thumbnail, curled up into a little ball on his seat. Lu Han’s sitting opposite him, brows furrowed. Kris leans against the chair handle, counting the number of times his phone vibrates in his back pocket. Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three.
“Lu Han,” Yixing says finally. “What happened to the competition?”
“It didn’t.” Lu Han rests his chin on his knees. “I was in the crash too. Tore a ligament. Jongin and Sehun competed by themselves, but of course it didn’t work, because our formations were for three people.”
“What about going to Beijing Dance Academy? You were always talking about it.”
Lu Han laughs. “No. I mean, Jongin and Sehun are studying there now. I never had a chance to audition, with you forgetting every day.” Yixing starts to protest, and Lu Han smiles at Yixing, putting a hand on Yixing’s arm. “It’s okay. I’d rather be here.”
Yixing doesn’t look convinced.
The specialist welcomes them with a sympathetic smile. “Ah, Yixing,” she says. Kris notes that she doesn’t even have to search up patient files. She looks at Kris. “Oh, hello, someone new?”
“This is Kris.” Kris waves. “He’s kind of…”
“I, um. Wanted to see about Yixing’s condition for myself. See if he could ever remember me.”
The specialist smiles knowingly. “A romantic interest, I see. So, the usual run-through?”
“Sorry,” Lu Han says. “It’s been so many times already.”
“Well, it’s pretty standard stuff.” The specialist pulls out some transparencies and places them on the projector. “Yixing has severe bilateral injuries to his hippocampus, in his medial temporal lobe-that’s the part of the brain that lets you change short-term memory to long-term memory,” she adds, seeing Kris's confused face. “The scar tissue that grew over the bruised parts of the brain is impairing his ability to make that conversion.”
“So,” Yixing says, “will I ever be able to remember new things?” He looks at Kris. “Will I ever be able to remember Kris?”
“There’s a possibility, but it’s very very slim.” Yixing looks crestfallen. “I’m sorry, I wish there was something we could do, but we don’t have the resources.”
“What if you had money?” Kris asks slowly. “Could you fix it if you had the funding?”
“No, that’s not that problem. Right now, there are only a handful of facilities that we can use. We don’t just need funding, but more space, and more specialists. Anyway, think of yourselves as lucky-with this amount of brain damage, it’s fortunate that Yixing’s still able to retain his memory for a full day.”
Kris frowns. “There are people worse off?”
The specialist nods. “Twenty-four hours is considered a long memory retention period for this type of injury.” She smiles. “Actually, if you have time, I have someone to introduce you to. In the infirmary. Follow me.”
The corridors to the infirmary are long and white and smell of disinfectant. Yixing leans into Kris, wrinkling his nose, and Kris puts his arm around Yixing’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Lu Han watches the two of them, smiling as Yixing holds onto Kris's arm.
They stop in front of a room. Inside, there’s a boy sitting in a chair, looking out the window, wide-eyed.
“Who…?” Yixing asks, puzzled.
The specialist smiles sadly. “A very special patient. Yixing, Kris, meet ten-second Kyungsoo.”
* * *
It’s late in the evening by the time they get back. Lu Han invites Kris over, and Kris realises that this is the first time that he’s ever been to their house. They’ve always been confined to the café, confined to the same routine, with Kris never daring to break it to respect Lu Han’s wishes. Now that it’s been broken, however, Kris can see just how little of Yixing’s life that he’s actually seen.
“I’ll make dinner,” Yixing says, disappearing into the kitchen. Lu Han makes to join him, but Yixing puts a hand on Lu Han’s chest and pushes him back. “It’s okay. I’ll do it myself. I-I need some time to think.”
“Well,” Lu Han says to Kris. “Make yourself at home.”
Kris sits down at the dining table, exhausted. Lu Han chucks Kris a can of beer, and he opens it, taking a long sip. It’s been a long day. The specialist had given them a bunch of leaflets and information about the infirmary, about amnesia, about recovery prospects, about dealing with a loved one who couldn’t remember you, and Kris had spent the train ride back just reading through them.
“You know what?” Kris says. “I think Jongin’s right.”
Lu Han looks up at Kris blearily. “Hm?”
“You can’t keep it up like this.” Kris watches Yixing’s back, moving around busily in the kitchen. “Pretending that every day is your birthday. Look, he’s going to wake up someday down the line and look in the mirror and…realise that he’s aged ten years overnight. And he’s going to want an explanation.”
“Then what do I do?” The chair scrapes as Lu Han gets up and starts pacing around. He runs a hand through his hair. “Trust me, Kris, if there were an easy way to do this, break the news to him every day, then I’d do it-but you saw how it was today. You saw how upset he got. Just imagine this happening, every single day, and then having to repeat the whole thing. Make him upset. Every single day.”
Kris clenches his jaw. “I think you’re being the selfish one here.”
Lu Han stops pacing. He looks at Kris. “Me? Selfish? You have no right to say that. I’ve looked after him for a year and a half, okay, making sure everything goes right-”
“-Lu Han.” Kris sighs. “Lu Han, no, I understand. But he’s not freaking out about the accident. What’s freaking him out is discovering halfway through the day that you’ve been lying to him.” Kris quietens. “Look, you say that it’s so that he can be happy-and I agree. I do. I want to see him smile as well. But I think he should have a choice.”
There’s a beat of silence. Lu Han purses his lips, starting to pace again. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it.
Kris looks down at his hands. “What I mean is-Yixing-his life is his, not yours. You shouldn’t have to tailor your life around him, pretending it’s your birthday every day, going through the same motions. Yes, it’s a lifelong condition. Yes, it means making sacrifices. But no, it didn’t mean rearranging your life completely. You’re going to look at this five years later and regret it, and feel bitter. Don’t you have things you want to do? Start up the dance crew with Jongin and Sehun again? Go and join Beijing Dance Academy with them?”
“I-” Lu Han stops in the middle of the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t, but…god, Kris, he got injured trying to shield me from the impact, and I have to look after him-”
“-it’s not fair for you or him.”
Lu Han downs his can of beer and crumples it up.
“I’ve been thinking about what the specialist said,” Kris mutters, dropping his voice. “About letting him know the truth. Yixing should get to choose, instead of being forced on repeat. And for that to happen, you have to tell him in the morning. It might be difficult at first-I mean, he’ll wake up, find out, and maybe he’ll be shocked and upset for an hour or two-but I think he’ll get over it, and then he can spend the next fourteen, fifteen hours of the day actually up to date. In the present. Living.”
Lu Han sits back on the chair. He buries his face in his hands, before he looks back up at Kris, a face full of indecision. Kris taps his fingers on the table.
“Hey!” Yixing pokes his head out from the kitchen. Both Lu Han and Kris jump, startled. “Dinner’s ready. Should I bring it out?”
“Y-yeah,” Lu Han says. “Thanks, Yixing.”
“Anyway,” Kris says. “I have an idea. If it doesn’t work, we’ll only lose one day. Can you trust me on this?”
Lu Han sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Yixing carries the dishes out of the kitchen, concentrating on not spilling anything. Yixing’s optimism even in this situation make Kris’s heart ache. “It’s worth a shot.”
* * *
Kris turns the video camera around. Record.
“Good morning, Yixing,” he says. He shuffles awkwardly. He’s never made a recording before, ever, but there’s always a first time for everything, especially around Yixing. “You’re probably wondering who I am. Uh, at the time you’re watching this, you…probably won’t know me…unless I’m in the room somewhere…but I’m hoping by the end of the day, you will. So. My name’s Kris. I’m from Canada. I only drink black coffee. I can’t draw, as you’ve kindly pointed out to me, and I know next to nothing about music composition. But you spend hours talking with me anyway, on the days you meet me, and Lu Han’s shown me the songs you’ve written for me, so…” Kris laughs. “I think you probably like me.”
Kris falls silent. He takes a breath.
“And I…I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
* * *
“Where were you?” Zitao asks when Kris walks into the office the next morning, dark circles under his eyes. “The contractors came to start the renovation project, and you weren’t there to sign the permission form. We had to fax things up to the main office-”
“-Yixing emergency,” Kris explains. Zitao stops talking.
“Oh. Did-did Yixing find out? Is he okay?”
“Yeah.” Kris rubs his eyes, yawning again. He’d spent the entire night filming and trying to figure out how to use the damn video editing program on his Macbook, to no avail. He’d even called Henry for help, but Henry hadn’t exactly been very useful, telling him what a cheeseball he was and subsequently suggesting to Kris to use Monotype Corsiva for overlay text. “Hey, Zitao, how good are you at making videos?”
The video ends up two minutes long. Zitao helps him burn it to a DVD. Kris rushes down to the café, between negotiating with a bunch of renovators, to give it to Lu Han.
“Happy birthday,” he says in jest, and Lu Han rolls his eyes. “DVD. For tomorrow morning.”
“Are you Lu Han’s friend?” Yixing asks in surprise, looking up from his table. “Hey, Lulu, how come I haven’t seen him around before?”
Kris smiles. “I’m, uh, new in town. I’m actually the, um, chairman of the, uh, Preservation of Extinct Dinosaurs society.”
“Kris.”
Kris waves. “Sorry, I gotta run off. I have chairman things to do. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
* * *
Lu Han lets Kris into the apartment early the next morning. Kris sets up the DVD player. Yixing wakes up and walks into the living room ten minutes later.
“Huh? What’s going on?” Yixing asks, rubbing his eyes. He sees Kris, and lets out a small exclamation. “Whoa, hey, Lu Han, who’s this?”
“Here,” Lu Han says, pushing Yixing onto the sofa. “Watch this first.”
“What are we watching?”
Kris pushes the play button. The TV screen flickers into life, three lines of white words appearing across the screen.
Good morning, Yixing.
Everything’s going to be alright…
But here are some of the things you’ve missed this year.
Kris groans at Zitao’s choice of font, then holds his breath as the video plays. There’s footage of the train accident. The hospital. Newspaper articles. Jongin and Sehun’s clips from the dance competition. The café. Yixing’s compositions. The neatly wrapped blue present he gives to Lu Han every morning.
Yixing’s silent through the whole video.
It’s only when the video ends, with Kris's embarrassing video monologue, that Yixing makes a kind of laughing sob, and Kris realises that tears are streaming down Yixing’s face.
“You broke your promise,” Lu Han whispers to Kris. Kris smiles grimly. “You made him cry.”
“This is so weird,” Yixing says, sniffling. He turns to Kris. Recognition flashes in his eyes. “You’re the guy at the end. Kris.” Kris nods, smiling. “You made this video?”
“I did.”
“How many times have I seen this?”
Lu Han turns the TV off. “This is the first time.”
Yixing nods slowly, wiping furiously at his face. Kris reaches out, thumb grazing over Yixing’s cheek. Yixing flinches, but doesn’t brush him away, instead, he reaches his hand up and places it over Kris's hand.
“God, I should remember you, shouldn’t I?” Yixing asks, in a small voice. “But I don’t. Because I have amnesia.”
“It’s okay,” Kris mutters. “It’ll be okay. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve just woken up from a really long dream,” Yixing says. Kris watches as Yixing tries to calm himself down, taking deep breaths in and out. After a few moments, he sighs. “So, you’re Kris. From Canada.” A hesitant smile. “Who thinks I’m the most beautiful person he’s ever met.”
Kris tries to nod away his urge to crawl under a rock. “That’s me.”
Yixing laughs tearily. “Well, let’s see how well you can draw, hm?”
* * *
They take Yixing around the rest of the day. He talks to the local supermarket owners, his high school teachers, his classmates from music composition class a year ago. A lot has changed since the accident.
“I can’t believe Song Qian’s married now,” Yixing says in disbelief. Lu Han shrugs, letting Yixing take all the new information in. “And Zhou Mi’s a famous model. It’s amazing. There are so many new buildings too,” Yixing adds, pointing out the series of newly-built residence high-rises. Kris hides a smile. If only Yixing knew that those high-rises were all constructed and distributed by Kris's father’s company.
“So what is it that you do?” Yixing asks Kris. Kris scratches his head.
“I work at an office,” he says. “The company I’m working for set up a branch in Hunan early this year, even though it’s in an old building. Do you two want to see it”
Zitao’s pacing around in front of Kris's office when they arrive, a look of relief on his face as he spots Kris. He rushes up with a pile of documents, and Kris groans internally.
“Not now, Zitao. I’ll sign these later. We’re showing Yixing around.”
“Oh. Yixing,” Zitao says. Yixing gives Zitao a wave and a grin. “Did you watch the…?”
“Video?” Yixing asks. “Yeah, yeah I did. Kris told me you helped him edit it.” He narrows his eyes. “Hey, was it you who decided to use the Comic Sans?”
“Do you like it?” Zitao asks, hopeful.
Yixing laughs. “Maybe try something less jarring next time.”
“It was better than Monotype Corsiva,” Zitao mutters, indignant.
They make it back to the café at night. Yixing collapses into the booth, looking tired and worn out, but with a large smile on his face. Kris sits down opposite him, yawning.
“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Lu Han says with a soft smile. “I’m going back home. Take your time.” He leaves a single light on, giving Yixing’s hair a ruffle before waves and disappears.
“So,” Yixing says. He takes a napkin and unfolds it on the table, doodling patterns on it. “Today was interesting. I’m just-thank you.”
“What for?” Kris asks. He watches as Yixing draws music notes, treble clefs, and writes indecipherable words next to them. “I mean, I haven’t done anything worthy of thanks.”
Yixing shakes his head vehemently. The pen drops out of his hands onto the table. He makes no move to pick it up. “But you have. Being with me. Putting up with me.”
“On the contrary,” Kris says, taking Yixing’s hands in his, “you’re a pleasure to be around.”
Yixing sighs. He turns his own hands around, so that his palms are resting on top oh Kris's outstretched hands. “Twelve hours, and it still feels weird to be this close to you. But it shouldn’t be. I mean, I remember Lu Han, and Zitao, and Jongin and Sehun-but not you. It must be frustrating to be with me like this, when I don’t even remember-I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Kris mutters. “Don’t you ever be sorry.”
“Why?” Yixing looks into Kris's eyes, eyebrows gently furrowed. “Why? Why do you bother?”
Kris pauses. He intertwines their fingers. Yixing blinks back at him, awaiting an answer.
“Because you’re worth it,” Kris finally says. Yixing’s hands are soft and warm, and Kris envelopes them in his, gripping them tightly. Yixing’s beautiful. From that first moment Kris had seen him in the café, it had been Yixing. He’s surprised by how much he really means those four words.
Yixing smiles, eyes crinkling. “Thank you,” he whispers, giving Kris's hands a squeeze, that distinctive dimple of his forming on his right cheek-and yeah, Kris thinks, Yixing’s worth every moment.
* * *
It becomes routine, but not quite, because each day is like the first, and Kris is never sure what’s going to happen, or how Yixing’s going to react.
Kris adds sections to the video he’d made for Yixing, minus the Comic Sans. Just small shots of the office, of him walking down to the café, of him and Yixing together, laughing, expanding the video day by day, so it’s up to date. He collects napkins, on them doodles that Yixing draws, snippets of unsaid thoughts, and strange, tall figures.
“I wrote a song for you,” Yixing says one day as they’re sitting outside watching the sun slowly sink over the horizon. “At least, I think it was for you. I’m not sure. But it was in my book, and there was something about Canada at the bottom of the notes, and you’re from Canada, so it must’ve been for you.”
Yixing strums the guitar as he sings. Kris closes his eyes and listens to the lilting rhythm of Yixing’s voice, gentle, clear, and just beautiful.
Kris takes all his work to the café when he can. He still gets hounded by his father, but as long as he’s getting things done, then there’s really nothing to complain about. On the weekends, after he sits through Yixing watching the video, and Lu Han gives Kris his permission, he takes Yixing up to Changsha and to the tourist sites. In the back of his mind he knows that it’s no use, really, because Yixing will forget everything the next day, but it’s with Yixing that he can enjoy the moment. He never forgets the video camera, taking videos of Yixing posing with the lion statues, buying icecream, holding sparklers under the streetlamps late at night.
“Look,” Yixing says, holding a brown, leather-cover book under Kris's nose. Kris takes it, flicking through the pages, and feels a twinge in his heart. It’s a diary, dated, with a summary of each day. Kris. Kris. More photos of Kris, with captions underneath them. Canadian. Can’t draw. Tone deaf. Ticklish on his right side. Don’t disturb him while he’s sleeping or he’ll get really grumpy, because he’s grumpypants. Oh, and he likes to tell really really lame jokes.
“Did you make this?”
Yixing nods, grinning. “The videos are great, but I feel like I’m being told, instead of finding out myself. With this, I can tell myself exactly who you are.”
“Okay,” Kris says. He takes out a pen and scribbles out the grumpypants and replaces it with most handsome. “I think it’s accurate now,” he says, and Yixing whacks him on the arm, snatching the book back.
* * *
The first time they kiss is under the new years fireworks.
The countdown goes off, four, three, two, one, and the lights blast into the air, a million brilliant colours illuminating the night sky.
Yixing smiles and tiptoes and presses his lips to Kris's, eyes closing in nervous excitement, and it’s sweet and electric and perfect and everything Kris has ever wanted.
* * *
Jongdae calls in February.
“So I hear you’re living well in that hole,” he says, hint of sarcastic amusement in his voice.
Kris laughs. “I am, thank you very much.”
“I talked to your father yesterday. I think he’s okay if you come back now. So, when do you want me to book your tickets for?”
Kris hesitates. Now that the option’s presented itself, Kris isn’t sure he wants to take it anymore. He might’ve hated being in Hunan at first, but things are different-there’s Yixing, for one-and he can’t bear to leave. The locals know him here. He’s on friendly terms with all the staff at the Hunan branch, and even Zitao, as clingy and pestering as he can get at times, is also strangely endearing, and also a much more lenient personal assistant.
“Don’t,” Kris says. “At least, not yet. I’m staying here. Nothing personal, Jongdae,” he adds, hearing Jongdae’s disappointed ‘aww’ing over the line. “I’m just…liking it here, actually.”
“Alright,” Jongdae says. “But you know, it’s getting mighty boring here without you to pester for paperwork.”
“I’ve got Zitao here doing that in your place,” Kris mutters darkly. Jongdae chuckles. “Hey, I’m gonna go. Stay well.” Kris pauses. “And Jongdae?”
“Hm?”
“If you get the chance, you should go up to my father and tell him to stop deciding for himself what I can and can’t do. Cheers.”
He hangs up.
* * *
Kris and Yixing kiss for a second time in an aquarium.
A third. A fourth. Tenth, twelfth, eighteenth.
No, Kris has to remind himself, when he wants to sneak a hand around Yixing’s waist, pull Yixing closer to his body, breathe him in. First. Always the first, at least for Yixing.
Kris is used to it by now, but Yixing’s not-and will probably never be. The way that Yixing tenses up, fingers intertwining with Kris's, standing up on his tiptoes, breath hitching audibly in his throat, never changes.
“It’s so strange.”
“Hm?” Kris cracks one eye open, from where he’s sleeping on Yixing’s lap. Yixing’s sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, watching a movie, one hand stroking Kris's hair. “What’s strange?”
“I-I wake up and I watch your video, and it just-I know I’ve seen the video a hundred times before, but it always feels like the first. Everything feels like the first. The first time meeting you, the first time going out with you, the first time kissing you.”
“But it’s not,” Kris murmurs, smiling. “It’s okay. There’s no need to rush.”
“Yeah.” Yixing falls silent for a moment. He bites his lower lip. “Kris, can I ask you a question?”
“What is it?”
“Do you…love me?”
Kris lifts his head from where he’s sleeping on Yixing’s lap, surprised. “Hm?”
Yixing sighs, looking uncertain. “I’ve seen the videos. I’ve read my diary. But I still want to hear it from you. Do you love me?”
“Love?” Kris laughs. “Love is…difficult to define.”
Kris thinks of Chanyeol. He thinks of Chanyeol and how fast that had been, from the lingering touches to the late nights pressed up against the glass walls of his Vancouver office, door unlocked, skin on skin, uncaring. That was lust, but not love. And Chanyeol had his own agenda.
Yixing doesn’t. Yixing is-just him. Yixing. Bright, cheerful, caring, beautiful. Spending a day with him makes Kris feel like he’s being swept off his feet and taken on a ride, with no destination in sight. Even if they don’t get past hand-holding, even if they don’t get past a simple kiss, Kris doesn’t think he’ll ever unboard.
“Well,” Kris starts. He reaches a hand up to brush the strands of Yixing’s fringe away from his eyes. “I go to the café, and I meet a boy called Zhang Yixing every day, the boy sitting in the booth composing, or talking loudly to Lu Han, with that stupid smile on his beautiful face and…” Kris sighs. “Yeah. I probably love you more than I love any other person in the world.”
“Wow,” Yixing says. “Wow.”
“What about you?” Kris asks flippantly, not really expecting an answer. He smiles up to Yixing. “Do you love me, then?”
“Love?” Yixing traces a finger over Kris's eyebrows, down his nose, tracing his jawline. “Love is difficult to define,” he repeats, teasing Kris.
“Stop stealing my words,” Kris mutters, amused. Yixing smiles, then grabs Kris's hand and presses it to his chest. “Yixing? What are you doing?”
“Can you feel it?” Yixing presses harder. Kris feels a steady thumping through Yixing’s sweater. “Here-it always gets faster when you’re around. And then it’s hard to breathe. I don’t know. I’ve only met you for the first time today, so I don’t know.”
Yixing takes Kris's hand away.
“It might not be love, but I think it’s close enough.”
* * *
“I don’t want to forget you.”
Yixing leans into Kris, clinging onto Kris's arm. They’re on the way back from dinner, and Yixing’s a little wine-happy, so Kris loops an arm protectively around Yixing’s shoulder to make sure he doesn’t bump into any street lamps on the road by accident. Kris sighs, nodding.
“And I don’t want you to forget me either. But there’s no helping it.”
“What if I stay awake?” Yixing murmurs. “What if I just don’t sleep, so my brain doesn’t shut down-will I remember you then?”
Kris laughs. He pushes open the door to Yixing and Lu Han’s residence. “You’ve tried that twice before. Didn’t work.” Kris remembers it well. Both him and Lu Han had advised Yixing against it, but Yixing had insisted-and both times, Yixing had been unable to stay awake past the 72 hour mark. The instant he woke up, everything he knew about Kris was gone. He had to start from zero again.
“But I don’t want to forget,” Yixing mutters again. Yixing’s grip tightens on Kris's shirt. “It takes so much effort for you just to let me know about you, and put up with me, and-hey, Kris, can you not go tonight? I don’t want you to go.”
Yixing opens his bedroom door, pushing Kris inside. Kris lands on Yixing’s bed, and Yixing sits straddle-legged across Kris's lap. Yixing reaches a hand up to trace Kris's face, and Kris inhales sharply. Yixing’s hands are trembling.
“I feel like I barely know you,” Yixing says, fingers trailing over Kris's lips. He leans against Kris, and Kris can feel the heat of Yixing’s breath against his cheek, more than welcoming. “God, I do barely know you, but I also feel like I’ve known you forever. There’s so much to take in. I wake up and I find out that we’re dating, that we’ve been dating for months, but every date still feels like the first, and every kiss still feels like the first.” Yixing breaks out into a cheeky smile. “And I don’t remember reading anything in my diary about going past this stage yet.”
“Well,” Kris mutters weakly, “there’s always a first time for everything.”
“There is.”
Kris isn’t sure what exactly happens next, or who makes the first move, but he knows that there’s a welling in his chest, and Yixing’s there in front of him, so beautiful-and Kris reaches out and takes Yixing by the wrists and kisses him; stands up so that Yixing slides onto the bed, wild-eyed and breathless and kisses him; runs his hands over Yixing’s face and pushes Yixing down and kisses him, gently, passionately, caringly.
“Kris,” Yixing murmurs. His hands scrabble at Kris's jacket, and Kris flings it off to the side, undoing his tie. “This is-”
“-is this too fast?” Kris breathes, pressing kisses against Yixing’s jawline. Yixing shivers, shaking his head vehemently.
“No, no. It’s like-it’s like I’m falling, and then waking up from a really long dream, and I find that my prince charming’s there in front of me. I feel like Sleeping Beauty,” Yixing says, chuckling, “except I’m a guy.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think I really need that clarification,” Kris murmurs, feeling Yixing hard on his thigh. He reaches down, to the zip and buckle of Yixing’s pants, sliding a hand down past the elastic, and Yixing tilts his head back, hissing between his teeth. “Yixing, are you sure?”
“Do it,” Yixing says. “I want it to be you. Please.”
A flood of second thoughts go through Kris's mind as he takes off Yixing’s shirt and presses kisses against Yixing’s collarbone. He’s drunk. This is too fast. He won’t remember. He’ll hate you-but all of them are outweighed by the euphoric feeling in his chest, the one that screams ‘but it’s Yixing’, so Kris pushes aside his reservations and presses his body against Yixing’s and makes Yixing his.
It’s messy. It’s uncoordinated. It’s nothing like the skilled dexterity or the fast, snappiness of Chanyeol’s wrist that Kris's used to, but in many ways, it’s simpler, and it’s so much better.
Yixing grits out Kris's name when he comes, a quiet whimper, a hitching of breath in his throat, a scrabbling of fingers on Kris's back for purchase. Yixing groans, then bites on Kris's lower lip and curls his hand around Kris-and then Kris can only think in white hot bursts of Yixing, Yixing, Yixing, an unbearable pleasure shuddering through his body-and god, Kris thinks as he comes into Yixing’s hand, he loves this boy, he loves him, he really does.
And, watching Yixing drift off to sleep afterwards, curled up into his side, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
* * *
But the more he loves, the more it hurts.
It’s inevitable. The forgetting. Kris knows, very well, that every day, his place in Yixing’s heart and Yixing’s mind is wiped away. Kris becomes a complete stranger. Usually, Yixing recovers it all, though the video and through the diary, but it’s not always foolproof.
Kris wakes up the next morning, and sees Yixing’s face next to his, stunning, perfect. He reaches out to caress it, hands resting on the side of Yixing’s face. Yixing opens his eyes, and for a moment, they’re both stuck in that wondrous moment between dreams and reality-but then Yixing blinks, once, twice, and in less than half a second, that content smile turns into a look of confusion, a look of horror. Kris lies there, unable to react, as Yixing yanks off the blankets and sees himself naked and Kris naked and registers that they’re in one bed and screams.
It hurts.
“Lu Han,” Yixing shouts, panicked, “Lu Han, where are you? Why-why is there a strange man in my bed?”
“I’m-” Kris covers himself with the blanket. “Goddammit. Yixing, wait, sorry-”
“-don’t come near me.”
“What’s going on?” Lu Han bursts in, and Kris ducks as Yixing hurls a book at him. “Shit, Yixing, Yixing, calm down, wait-”
“-who is this person?” Yixing hurls a photo frame at Kris. It hits him on the head. There’s a crack, the glass of the photo frame breaking, and Kris can feel blood trickling down the side of his head.
“Oh my god,” Lu Han breathes. “Wait, I’ll get the bandages.”
Kris puts a hand up to his head. There’s red, staining his fingers. A lot of red. A sharp, tingling pain.
His heart still hurts more.
* * *
Yixing calms down enough to watch the video.
“Oh,” he says, when the video finishes. Kris stands behind him, grim. Lu Han hands Yixing his diary. Yixing flicks through the pages quickly. First date. Second date. First kiss. Fireworks. “Oh, oh my god. I’m sorry, Kris, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Kris mutters, but his heart’s not with his words this time.
“I’m-” Yixing sighs, gripping the diary in his hands. They’re trembling. He’s visibly shaken. “I need some time. I’m sorry, I’m going to read this in my room.”
“Are you okay?” Lu Han asks quietly, when Yixing door shuts. Kris nods, wincing as his head pounds from the motion. “It’s the amnesia. Don’t take it too personally.”
“I’m not,” Kris mutters. “It’s-” he sighs, unable to finish his sentence. “I’m going to go down to the office. I think I want to be away from here for a while.”
“Bandage yourself up first,” Lu Han says, handing him a roll. He pushes Kris to the bathroom. “I don’t want you dying of blood loss.”
Kris is admiring his bandages when his mobile rings. He scrambles to pick it up without checking the caller ID.
“Kris.”
Kris closes his eyes. It’s his father.
“I heard stories. From the staff at the office-you’re seeing someone, aren’t you? A boy called Yixing. Stop that now and come back to Vancouver.”
Kris rests his head on the mirror. As usual. “Dad, I’m staying here.”
“There’s no need,” his father says. “You don’t need to stay there any longer; Hunan’s renovation project is nearly completed anyway. Forget about Yixing. Come back to Vancouver, and I’ll put you in a higher executive position.”
Kris grits his teeth. His father doesn’t understand. A higher position isn’t what he wants. “No.”
“No?”
“I’m staying here. Dad, I’m sick of running back and forth as you please. Don’t lie, I know you didn’t send me down here so I could ‘gain experience’. You sent me down here because you didn’t like Chanyeol.”
There’s a tense silence. “The company will be yours after I retire. I can’t have you with just anyone. They’re probably using you for your status, son, and your money. Listen to me.”
“No,” Kris says. “Chanyeol, yes, maybe. But not Yixing. Not him. Not everyone has an agenda. I’ve met some really nice people here, dad, really nice. And they’re not nice to me for the money, because they don’t know that I’m your son. What kind of son of a multimillionaire chairman comes down to a remote town in the middle of Hunan and works in an office?”
“Don’t you argue with me.” His father’s voice has a hard edge to it now. There’s a long pause. “Kris, listen to me. Come back to Vancouver, now.”
“Give me some time, dad.”
“You don’t have-”
“-please, dad, please. I like Yixing. I love him. I’m staying here with him. It won’t affect the company. Just-just learn to let me do things at my own pace.”
Kris slides his phone shut and slips it back into his pocket. He stares at himself in the mirror.
His father might have the wrong reasons for sending him here and there, but there is still one thing that Kris knows is inevitable, and he’s been trying to avoid-he’ll have to go back to Vancouver sometime. He’d promised Lu Han to be there, but if his father was going to keep pressuring him like this, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last.
Kris sighs. He splashes his face furiously with water.
* * *
Kris can’t concentrate at work. His thoughts drift from listlessly signing and stamping documents to his father’s words and the incident earlier with Yixing, and he finds that his mind wanders. When Kris finally decides to leave the company building, he’s surprised to find Yixing waiting outside.
“Kris?” Yixing peers closer. “Hi. I’m sorry about earlier. The, um, photo frame. Is your head okay?”
Kris looks at Yixing. Normally, at this stage, Yixing would be smiling and trying to find similarities between the real Kris and the Kris that he’s read about in his diary-but not today. Today, he’s hugging his diary to his chest with both arms, a sad look in his eyes.
“Yixing,” Kris says. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”
Yixing shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “I’m going to cut to the chase. Kris, I’m breaking up with you.”
Kris blinks. For a moment, everything’s still, and then Yixing’s words hit him.
“Why?”
Yixing walks up to him. He opens his diary to the last page, and takes out a sheet of yellow paper, holding it in front of Kris's face.
Yixing, remember: Kris is the son of the chairman of Wu Huifei Industries
He has a company’s future on his shoulders
He’s meant to be back in Vancouver
He’s staying here because of you
Don’t hold him back
“My room’s right next to the bathroom,” Yixing says softly. “I could hear everything. How come you never told me before? I mean, not today, but-there’s no mention of this in any previous entries. I went through them all again to confirm.”
“I’m-”
“-you’re the chairman’s son. You’re meant to be in other places, bigger, better places, not here with me. I’ve been thinking. I’m not worth it.”
“You’re worth every second,” Kris protests. “I don’t want to leave you. Here, look, give me the note. I’ll throw it away, and you’ll wake up tomorrow, and you won’t remember anything, and it’ll be all good.”
Yixing shakes his head. “I’ve made a decision. If you take the note away, that would be unfair to me. Stealing away my memories. Stealing away the truth. I’m just a burden. I’m breaking up with you today.”
“Yixing, you’re not a burden-”
“-your dad’s right, you know? You need to find someone who’s on the same level as you. I’m a nobody with less than five figures in my bank account and incurable anterograde amnesia. All I’d do is drag you down.”
“Yixing-”
“-I slept with you,” Yixing whispers, pained. Kris's heart twinges. “I slept with you, and I can’t even remember it. What’s the point, of you wasting all this time on me, trying to get me to remember you, and me not ever being able to? I’ll only hurt you. You’ll begin to resent me. I don’t want that.”
“I can’t hate you,” Kris says desperately. The sharp pain in his chest intensifies. “Who could?”
Yixing sighs. “I’ve decided. No more. I’m going to erase you out of my life. I’m destroying all the diary entries about you.”
“Don’t.”
Yixing hugs his diary to himself. “I want you to be there with me, just one last time.”
* * *
The photos burn in the dark, the fire spitting a dirty grey-orange into the sky. One by one, the carefully written words-not just words, but feelings, emotions, realities-disintegrate to nothing.
“The day we went to the amusement park,” Yixing says, smiling. “Aw. You bought a unicorn doll for me.”
“And you got me a dragon,” Kris mutters. Yixing had also pushed him into the pool meant for little children. He’d been dripping wet the rest of the day. Kris’s smile turns into a grimace as he watches the page turn to dust.
“That time we tried to finish an entire forty-scoop tower of gelato.” Kris takes the photo. It’s Yixing, holding two spoons, tongue stuck out. 好吃！Yummy! the caption below says. That goes into the fire.
“You wrote this for me,” Kris says. The sheet music flutters. “I remember this. We were sitting by the river, and you sang it for me.” It goes too.
Day by day, page by page, memory by memory.
Paper curling up into black ashes, glossy plastic melting into twisted, shapeless forms.
“Is this what you really want?” Kris asks softly. Yixing nods. He rips out the last page, holding it over the fire. The flames catch, engulfing the page, and Yixing lets go.
Seven months reduced to ash.
Yixing tries to smile at Kris. The corners of his lips are curled upwards, but his eyes scream regret. Kris runs a thumb over Yixing’s cheek. It’s moist. Kris feels his vision blurring as well, and he wipes angrily at his face with his sleeve.
“Well,” Yixing says, voice thick with tears, “I guess that’s it.”
* * *
In the coming weeks, the company building gets completely knocked down. It’s so they can re-do the piping and electricity and prepare it for renovations-long overdue renovations-and Kris would be glad that they’re finally fixing that safety hazard of an office he had-if he were still staying here.
Jongdae had called. “Your plane tickets have been booked. Your visa’s going to expire if you don’t come back, and I don’t particularly want to bail you out of jail. You better come back before your father disowns you, by the way.” Kris had agreed, too tired to argue. It was over anyway. Yixing was out of his life. He had no purpose here anymore.
Two weeks, one week, and then Kris is hauling a suitcase up the steps of the train station, about to say goodbye to the place that has made him feel so many different things the past eight months.
Lu Han’s on the platform, waiting for Kris. Kris squints, not sure if he’s seeing properly-but sure enough, it’s Lu Han, holding a package.
“Lu Han,” Kris says. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Here,” Lu Han says. He pushes the package over. “A gift. Thank you for the experience. This time with you around has been-interesting. Challenging.”
Kris takes the package with a smile and a nod, tucking it into his backpack. The train guard blows the whistle, signalling two minutes until departure.
“So,” Kris says. “I guess I’m leaving.”
There’s a silence.
“Zitao told me you’re going to take over your father’s position in Vancouver.”
Kris frowns. “Yeah, I guess I’ll be doing more stuff now. Helping out my father. Expanding worldwide. I still can’t figure out how everyone suddenly found out who I was.” Lu Han tries to hide a grin, pulling a nonchalant poker face without much success, and Kris narrows his eyes. “I knew it.”
“Hey, I only told Zitao. It’s Zitao’s fault for not being able to keep his mouth shut,” Lu Han defends.
Kris laughs. “Doesn’t matter now. What about you? What are your plans?”
Lu Han shrugs. “Well, now that Yixing’s checked himself into the infirmary…I don’t have anything to do anymore, except run the café. But Jongin and Sehun asked me to go up to Beijing last week to try out for the Dance Academy again-and I’ve been practising, so…” Lu Han smiles. “I might join them.”
Kris nods. There’s one final question on the tip of his tongue, one that he’s promised himself he wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t remind himself, but-“And how’s Yixing? Does he…remember anything?”
Lu Han smiles sadly. “I don’t know. I can’t even see him that often, because he’s at the institution. The specialist said that he’s happy there, though. He’s teaching music to some of the patients. He’s even singing and composing on the guitar every day.”
The train guard blows the whistle twice, and Kris sighs. He pulls his luggage up into the train. “Thank you. I have to go now. It was-honestly, I’ll miss it here.”
The train doors close.
“Hey,” Lu Han shouts through the train doors. “Hey, Kris, make sure you open the package on the train!”
* * *
The attendant on the train asks if he wants anything. He declines, a sour feeling in his mouth. The package sits on the seat next to him, untouched. He stares at it for a moment as the train jerks and sets off, a mix of anticipation and dread, before ripping it open.
There are two things in it. The first is a CD player. The second Kris recognises instantly when it falls out of the package onto his lap. His heart leaps into his throat. He’s finding it hard to breathe.
A brown, leather-covered book.
Yixing’s diary.
Kris smooths his hands over the cover. He opens it. The diary is a lot thinner than it had been before-most of the entries gone, burnt away on that day, the last time he’d seen Yixing.
I lied. We burnt everything, but I couldn’t bear to erase you completely.
So I’ll just leave these few lines here, and leave myself to wonder every morning who you are.
Kris, wonderful Kris, who’s put up with so much-forgive me.
PS: I never told you, but I was falling in love.
Kris slams the diary shut. He can feel his heart tearing at the seams, barely held together by will.
There’s a sticky note on the CD player. Yixing’s compositions while in the infirmary! it reads. He’s composing every day. They sent me a copy of all the songs he’s recorded. I thought you might want one too.
He takes a breath to collect himself, then puts the earphones in and presses play on the CD. The guitar starts off, a familiar melody sounding, then Yixing’s voice comes on and Kris almost can’t stand it.
“Oh baby, please don’t go, please don’t leave me waiting for you alone.”
“Composing every day,” Kris mutters. He furrows his eyebrows. There’s something off here, something that he’s missing.
Lu Han’s voice rings in his head. “He only finishes composing that song on days he meets you.”
Kris's heart stops for a nanosecond. If Yixing had finished writing these songs in the infirmary, without having met him, then-
Oh, Kris thinks. Realisation dawns on him. Oh.
“Oh.”
It’s a possibility. It’s a slim, miniscule possibility, but it’s still a possibility-and Kris realises, gripping Yixing’s diary in his hands, that even if it was a one in a million chance, he’d be willing to drop everything for Yixing. He doesn’t want to leave for Vancouver; doesn’t want want to take over his father’s position, if Yixing wasn’t going to be there beside him.
The train pulls into Changsha station. Kris rips out his earphones, grabs his suitcase, and rushes out the doors.
* * *
The corridors of the infirmary are even longer than Kris remembers them being. He abandons his luggage near the elevators and runs, searching left and right, opening doors to see if Yixing’s in any of them.
“Hey!” the security guard shouts. “Hey, excuse me! You’re not allowed to enter patients’ rooms without authorisation.”
“I am a patient,” Kris shouts, “I’m, uh, looking for my room. Memory disease! I can’t remember where it is,” he lies.
The security guard scratches his head, miffed. “Poor guy,” he mutters.
Kris finds Yixing in the room at the very end, facing the courtyard. He’s sitting in front of a music stand, a guitar on his lap, a pencil in his hand. Kris pushes open the door, holding his breath.
“Hey,” Kris says. Yixing looks at him, eyebrows furrowing gently. Kris searches for any signs of recognition on Yixing’s face.
“Hi,” Yixing says. His eyes travel to the diary that Kris is holding. He bites his lower lip and tilts his head slowly. “Do I…know you from somewhere?”
“Do you remember?” Kris asks, walking up to Yixing. Yixing puts the guitar aside, standing up from his seat. “Do you remember me?”
Yixing shakes his head. “No.”
Kris's heart crashes from where it’s been suspended on a highwire. He can taste the bitter disappointment. His shoulders slump, and he drops his arms to his sides. “Oh. Oh, never mind-”
“-wait,” Yixing says, walking up to Kris. “Don’t go.”
Yixing raises a hand. Kris gulps. “May I?” Yixing asks, and Kris nods. Yixing runs his fingers over Kris's face. Tracing his nose, his cheekbone, the line of his jaw. “You…you remind me of something. A song. A melody. Black coffee.”
Kris gulps. Yixing drops his hand and steps back, looking Kris up and down.
“It’s strange. I’ve never met you. I don’t remember who you are.”
“But?”
Yixing takes Kris's hand places it to his chest, gripping onto Kris's lower arm. Kris can feel Yixing’s heart, thumping irregularly under his palm. Yixing gently squeezes Kris's arm.
“But for some reason, this part of me tells a different story.”
* * *
“Hey dude, you got that press conference today?”
Kris groans as he picks up the phone. Henry. Of all the days to call.
“Yes, Henry,” Kris rubs his eyes and sits up in bed. “Because I really needed a reminder at six in the morning.”
“Hey, I don’t know what time it is there! It’s your fault for staying in the motherland.” Kris yawns in response. “Man, I still don’t understand how you managed to get your dad’s approval for that thing,” Henry continues. “He’d never give to charity.”
Kris laughs. “Well, I think he realised that I’m his only son, and this wasn’t something I could give up so easily. Hey, after cutting me off for three months and finding out I was doing fine without him and the company, I guess he thought it’d be best to have me back and let me do things my way. Plus, the Beijing branch kinda needs a…more trustworthy head manager and some positive PR.”
Henry sighs. “All for Yixing. How is he?”
“Sleeping next to me.” A pause. “He looks so beautiful.”
“You’re so far gone, man.”
Kris grins. He’s pretty sure he’s smiling like an idiot, but Henry can’t see over the phone. “And so what? Hey, stop playing around. Once you fall in love, you’ll understand-you’ll do anything for them.” Yixing stirs next to him, making a content noise. Kris drops his voice. “And speaking of which, I gotta get out of the room and get the videos ready before Yixing wakes up and tries to throw a pot plant at my head. Talk to you later!”
“So far gone.”
* * *
“…We believe it’s important for us to give back to the community. That’s why Wu Huifei Industries has taken on the project of constructing medical facilities for the research of neurological disorders. We’re hoping with the opening of the Beijing Institute, more people with neurological disorders will have access to the help and treatment they deserve.”
Kris gives a slight bow as he steps away from the podium. The reporters and journalists snap photos, while the company shareholders mutter things at the back of the room. Kris surreptitiously scans the room, looking, looking-
“What’s the reason for taking on this project?” a journalist shouts out. “I understand that the funding for this project is 70% from the company itself, and likely to result in a net loss-why would the company shoulder that?”
There.
Kris turns to smile at the reporter, but his eyes are fixated on that someone else-someone hidden away in the fourth row of seats, with a glowing smile. Yixing gives Kris a thumbs up.
“Mr. Wu? Your answer?”
“Well,” Kris says. He thinks of Yixing, of the days he’s spent, of all the tears and conflicts and pain, but then he thinks of the happy highs, the sheer thrill of each new day, Yixing’s voice in his ear at night, and he grins. “Because there's a first time for everything.”
* * *
(“Do you love me?”
“I do.”
“How many times have I asked this question?”
“Five hundred and sixty four.”
“And how many times have I asked that question?”
“Five hundred and sixty four.”
“Are you making this up?”
“No.”
“And how many times have I-”
Kris shuts Yixing up by pulling him into a kiss.)
a/n: late repost is late u___u massive thanks to C, A and M for trolling on my gdocs, and potaoto for beta n___n
original prompt for r&g: 50 first dates krislay with lay with the memory disease! it doesn't have to follow closely, but i'd like the general plot to be similar :') and there's a scene where lay leaves this for wu fan? ;; no sad ending please ;___;
The train ride up to Changsha takes an hour.
Yixing stares out the window, biting his thumbnail, curled up into a little ball on his seat. Lu Han’s sitting opposite him, brows furrowed. Kris leans against the chair handle, counting the number of times his phone vibrates in his back pocket. Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three.
“Lu Han,” Yixing says finally. “What happened to the competition?”
“It didn’t.” Lu Han rests his chin on his knees. “I was in the crash too. Tore a ligament. Jongin and Sehun competed by themselves, but of course it didn’t work, because our formations were for three people.”
“What about going to Beijing Dance Academy? You were always talking about it.”
Lu Han laughs. “No. I mean, Jongin and Sehun are studying there now. I never had a chance to audition, with you forgetting every day.” Yixing starts to protest, and Lu Han smiles at Yixing, putting a hand on Yixing’s arm. “It’s okay. I’d rather be here.”
Yixing doesn’t look convinced.
The specialist welcomes them with a sympathetic smile. “Ah, Yixing,” she says. Kris notes that she doesn’t even have to search up patient files. She looks at Kris. “Oh, hello, someone new?”
“This is Kris.” Kris waves. “He’s kind of…”
“I, um. Wanted to see about Yixing’s condition for myself. See if he could ever remember me.”
The specialist smiles knowingly. “A romantic interest, I see. So, the usual run-through?”
“Sorry,” Lu Han says. “It’s been so many times already.”
“Well, it’s pretty standard stuff.” The specialist pulls out some transparencies and places them on the projector. “Yixing has severe bilateral injuries to his hippocampus, in his medial temporal lobe-that’s the part of the brain that lets you change short-term memory to long-term memory,” she adds, seeing Kris's confused face. “The scar tissue that grew over the bruised parts of the brain is impairing his ability to make that conversion.”
“So,” Yixing says, “will I ever be able to remember new things?” He looks at Kris. “Will I ever be able to remember Kris?”
“There’s a possibility, but it’s very very slim.” Yixing looks crestfallen. “I’m sorry, I wish there was something we could do, but we don’t have the resources.”
“What if you had money?” Kris asks slowly. “Could you fix it if you had the funding?”
“No, that’s not that problem. Right now, there are only a handful of facilities that we can use. We don’t just need funding, but more space, and more specialists. Anyway, think of yourselves as lucky-with this amount of brain damage, it’s fortunate that Yixing’s still able to retain his memory for a full day.”
Kris frowns. “There are people worse off?”
The specialist nods. “Twenty-four hours is considered a long memory retention period for this type of injury.” She smiles. “Actually, if you have time, I have someone to introduce you to. In the infirmary. Follow me.”
The corridors to the infirmary are long and white and smell of disinfectant. Yixing leans into Kris, wrinkling his nose, and Kris puts his arm around Yixing’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Lu Han watches the two of them, smiling as Yixing holds onto Kris's arm.
They stop in front of a room. Inside, there’s a boy sitting in a chair, looking out the window, wide-eyed.
“Who…?” Yixing asks, puzzled.
The specialist smiles sadly. “A very special patient. Yixing, Kris, meet ten-second Kyungsoo.”
* * *
It’s late in the evening by the time they get back. Lu Han invites Kris over, and Kris realises that this is the first time that he’s ever been to their house. They’ve always been confined to the café, confined to the same routine, with Kris never daring to break it to respect Lu Han’s wishes. Now that it’s been broken, however, Kris can see just how little of Yixing’s life that he’s actually seen.
“I’ll make dinner,” Yixing says, disappearing into the kitchen. Lu Han makes to join him, but Yixing puts a hand on Lu Han’s chest and pushes him back. “It’s okay. I’ll do it myself. I-I need some time to think.”
“Well,” Lu Han says to Kris. “Make yourself at home.”
Kris sits down at the dining table, exhausted. Lu Han chucks Kris a can of beer, and he opens it, taking a long sip. It’s been a long day. The specialist had given them a bunch of leaflets and information about the infirmary, about amnesia, about recovery prospects, about dealing with a loved one who couldn’t remember you, and Kris had spent the train ride back just reading through them.
“You know what?” Kris says. “I think Jongin’s right.”
Lu Han looks up at Kris blearily. “Hm?”
“You can’t keep it up like this.” Kris watches Yixing’s back, moving around busily in the kitchen. “Pretending that every day is your birthday. Look, he’s going to wake up someday down the line and look in the mirror and…realise that he’s aged ten years overnight. And he’s going to want an explanation.”
“Then what do I do?” The chair scrapes as Lu Han gets up and starts pacing around. He runs a hand through his hair. “Trust me, Kris, if there were an easy way to do this, break the news to him every day, then I’d do it-but you saw how it was today. You saw how upset he got. Just imagine this happening, every single day, and then having to repeat the whole thing. Make him upset. Every single day.”
Kris clenches his jaw. “I think you’re being the selfish one here.”
Lu Han stops pacing. He looks at Kris. “Me? Selfish? You have no right to say that. I’ve looked after him for a year and a half, okay, making sure everything goes right-”
“-Lu Han.” Kris sighs. “Lu Han, no, I understand. But he’s not freaking out about the accident. What’s freaking him out is discovering halfway through the day that you’ve been lying to him.” Kris quietens. “Look, you say that it’s so that he can be happy-and I agree. I do. I want to see him smile as well. But I think he should have a choice.”
There’s a beat of silence. Lu Han purses his lips, starting to pace again. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it.
Kris looks down at his hands. “What I mean is-Yixing-his life is his, not yours. You shouldn’t have to tailor your life around him, pretending it’s your birthday every day, going through the same motions. Yes, it’s a lifelong condition. Yes, it means making sacrifices. But no, it didn’t mean rearranging your life completely. You’re going to look at this five years later and regret it, and feel bitter. Don’t you have things you want to do? Start up the dance crew with Jongin and Sehun again? Go and join Beijing Dance Academy with them?”
“I-” Lu Han stops in the middle of the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t, but…god, Kris, he got injured trying to shield me from the impact, and I have to look after him-”
“-it’s not fair for you or him.”
Lu Han downs his can of beer and crumples it up.
“I’ve been thinking about what the specialist said,” Kris mutters, dropping his voice. “About letting him know the truth. Yixing should get to choose, instead of being forced on repeat. And for that to happen, you have to tell him in the morning. It might be difficult at first-I mean, he’ll wake up, find out, and maybe he’ll be shocked and upset for an hour or two-but I think he’ll get over it, and then he can spend the next fourteen, fifteen hours of the day actually up to date. In the present. Living.”
Lu Han sits back on the chair. He buries his face in his hands, before he looks back up at Kris, a face full of indecision. Kris taps his fingers on the table.
“Hey!” Yixing pokes his head out from the kitchen. Both Lu Han and Kris jump, startled. “Dinner’s ready. Should I bring it out?”
“Y-yeah,” Lu Han says. “Thanks, Yixing.”
“Anyway,” Kris says. “I have an idea. If it doesn’t work, we’ll only lose one day. Can you trust me on this?”
Lu Han sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Yixing carries the dishes out of the kitchen, concentrating on not spilling anything. Yixing’s optimism even in this situation make Kris’s heart ache. “It’s worth a shot.”
* * *
Kris turns the video camera around. Record.
“Good morning, Yixing,” he says. He shuffles awkwardly. He’s never made a recording before, ever, but there’s always a first time for everything, especially around Yixing. “You’re probably wondering who I am. Uh, at the time you’re watching this, you…probably won’t know me…unless I’m in the room somewhere…but I’m hoping by the end of the day, you will. So. My name’s Kris. I’m from Canada. I only drink black coffee. I can’t draw, as you’ve kindly pointed out to me, and I know next to nothing about music composition. But you spend hours talking with me anyway, on the days you meet me, and Lu Han’s shown me the songs you’ve written for me, so…” Kris laughs. “I think you probably like me.”
Kris falls silent. He takes a breath.
“And I…I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
* * *
“Where were you?” Zitao asks when Kris walks into the office the next morning, dark circles under his eyes. “The contractors came to start the renovation project, and you weren’t there to sign the permission form. We had to fax things up to the main office-”
“-Yixing emergency,” Kris explains. Zitao stops talking.
“Oh. Did-did Yixing find out? Is he okay?”
“Yeah.” Kris rubs his eyes, yawning again. He’d spent the entire night filming and trying to figure out how to use the damn video editing program on his Macbook, to no avail. He’d even called Henry for help, but Henry hadn’t exactly been very useful, telling him what a cheeseball he was and subsequently suggesting to Kris to use Monotype Corsiva for overlay text. “Hey, Zitao, how good are you at making videos?”
The video ends up two minutes long. Zitao helps him burn it to a DVD. Kris rushes down to the café, between negotiating with a bunch of renovators, to give it to Lu Han.
“Happy birthday,” he says in jest, and Lu Han rolls his eyes. “DVD. For tomorrow morning.”
“Are you Lu Han’s friend?” Yixing asks in surprise, looking up from his table. “Hey, Lulu, how come I haven’t seen him around before?”
Kris smiles. “I’m, uh, new in town. I’m actually the, um, chairman of the, uh, Preservation of Extinct Dinosaurs society.”
“Kris.”
Kris waves. “Sorry, I gotta run off. I have chairman things to do. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
* * *
Lu Han lets Kris into the apartment early the next morning. Kris sets up the DVD player. Yixing wakes up and walks into the living room ten minutes later.
“Huh? What’s going on?” Yixing asks, rubbing his eyes. He sees Kris, and lets out a small exclamation. “Whoa, hey, Lu Han, who’s this?”
“Here,” Lu Han says, pushing Yixing onto the sofa. “Watch this first.”
“What are we watching?”
Kris pushes the play button. The TV screen flickers into life, three lines of white words appearing across the screen.
Good morning, Yixing.
Everything’s going to be alright…
But here are some of the things you’ve missed this year.
Kris groans at Zitao’s choice of font, then holds his breath as the video plays. There’s footage of the train accident. The hospital. Newspaper articles. Jongin and Sehun’s clips from the dance competition. The café. Yixing’s compositions. The neatly wrapped blue present he gives to Lu Han every morning.
Yixing’s silent through the whole video.
It’s only when the video ends, with Kris's embarrassing video monologue, that Yixing makes a kind of laughing sob, and Kris realises that tears are streaming down Yixing’s face.
“You broke your promise,” Lu Han whispers to Kris. Kris smiles grimly. “You made him cry.”
“This is so weird,” Yixing says, sniffling. He turns to Kris. Recognition flashes in his eyes. “You’re the guy at the end. Kris.” Kris nods, smiling. “You made this video?”
“I did.”
“How many times have I seen this?”
Lu Han turns the TV off. “This is the first time.”
Yixing nods slowly, wiping furiously at his face. Kris reaches out, thumb grazing over Yixing’s cheek. Yixing flinches, but doesn’t brush him away, instead, he reaches his hand up and places it over Kris's hand.
“God, I should remember you, shouldn’t I?” Yixing asks, in a small voice. “But I don’t. Because I have amnesia.”
“It’s okay,” Kris mutters. “It’ll be okay. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve just woken up from a really long dream,” Yixing says. Kris watches as Yixing tries to calm himself down, taking deep breaths in and out. After a few moments, he sighs. “So, you’re Kris. From Canada.” A hesitant smile. “Who thinks I’m the most beautiful person he’s ever met.”
Kris tries to nod away his urge to crawl under a rock. “That’s me.”
Yixing laughs tearily. “Well, let’s see how well you can draw, hm?”
* * *
They take Yixing around the rest of the day. He talks to the local supermarket owners, his high school teachers, his classmates from music composition class a year ago. A lot has changed since the accident.
“I can’t believe Song Qian’s married now,” Yixing says in disbelief. Lu Han shrugs, letting Yixing take all the new information in. “And Zhou Mi’s a famous model. It’s amazing. There are so many new buildings too,” Yixing adds, pointing out the series of newly-built residence high-rises. Kris hides a smile. If only Yixing knew that those high-rises were all constructed and distributed by Kris's father’s company.
“So what is it that you do?” Yixing asks Kris. Kris scratches his head.
“I work at an office,” he says. “The company I’m working for set up a branch in Hunan early this year, even though it’s in an old building. Do you two want to see it”
Zitao’s pacing around in front of Kris's office when they arrive, a look of relief on his face as he spots Kris. He rushes up with a pile of documents, and Kris groans internally.
“Not now, Zitao. I’ll sign these later. We’re showing Yixing around.”
“Oh. Yixing,” Zitao says. Yixing gives Zitao a wave and a grin. “Did you watch the…?”
“Video?” Yixing asks. “Yeah, yeah I did. Kris told me you helped him edit it.” He narrows his eyes. “Hey, was it you who decided to use the Comic Sans?”
“Do you like it?” Zitao asks, hopeful.
Yixing laughs. “Maybe try something less jarring next time.”
“It was better than Monotype Corsiva,” Zitao mutters, indignant.
They make it back to the café at night. Yixing collapses into the booth, looking tired and worn out, but with a large smile on his face. Kris sits down opposite him, yawning.
“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Lu Han says with a soft smile. “I’m going back home. Take your time.” He leaves a single light on, giving Yixing’s hair a ruffle before waves and disappears.
“So,” Yixing says. He takes a napkin and unfolds it on the table, doodling patterns on it. “Today was interesting. I’m just-thank you.”
“What for?” Kris asks. He watches as Yixing draws music notes, treble clefs, and writes indecipherable words next to them. “I mean, I haven’t done anything worthy of thanks.”
Yixing shakes his head vehemently. The pen drops out of his hands onto the table. He makes no move to pick it up. “But you have. Being with me. Putting up with me.”
“On the contrary,” Kris says, taking Yixing’s hands in his, “you’re a pleasure to be around.”
Yixing sighs. He turns his own hands around, so that his palms are resting on top oh Kris's outstretched hands. “Twelve hours, and it still feels weird to be this close to you. But it shouldn’t be. I mean, I remember Lu Han, and Zitao, and Jongin and Sehun-but not you. It must be frustrating to be with me like this, when I don’t even remember-I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Kris mutters. “Don’t you ever be sorry.”
“Why?” Yixing looks into Kris's eyes, eyebrows gently furrowed. “Why? Why do you bother?”
Kris pauses. He intertwines their fingers. Yixing blinks back at him, awaiting an answer.
“Because you’re worth it,” Kris finally says. Yixing’s hands are soft and warm, and Kris envelopes them in his, gripping them tightly. Yixing’s beautiful. From that first moment Kris had seen him in the café, it had been Yixing. He’s surprised by how much he really means those four words.
Yixing smiles, eyes crinkling. “Thank you,” he whispers, giving Kris's hands a squeeze, that distinctive dimple of his forming on his right cheek-and yeah, Kris thinks, Yixing’s worth every moment.
* * *
It becomes routine, but not quite, because each day is like the first, and Kris is never sure what’s going to happen, or how Yixing’s going to react.
Kris adds sections to the video he’d made for Yixing, minus the Comic Sans. Just small shots of the office, of him walking down to the café, of him and Yixing together, laughing, expanding the video day by day, so it’s up to date. He collects napkins, on them doodles that Yixing draws, snippets of unsaid thoughts, and strange, tall figures.
“I wrote a song for you,” Yixing says one day as they’re sitting outside watching the sun slowly sink over the horizon. “At least, I think it was for you. I’m not sure. But it was in my book, and there was something about Canada at the bottom of the notes, and you’re from Canada, so it must’ve been for you.”
Yixing strums the guitar as he sings. Kris closes his eyes and listens to the lilting rhythm of Yixing’s voice, gentle, clear, and just beautiful.
Kris takes all his work to the café when he can. He still gets hounded by his father, but as long as he’s getting things done, then there’s really nothing to complain about. On the weekends, after he sits through Yixing watching the video, and Lu Han gives Kris his permission, he takes Yixing up to Changsha and to the tourist sites. In the back of his mind he knows that it’s no use, really, because Yixing will forget everything the next day, but it’s with Yixing that he can enjoy the moment. He never forgets the video camera, taking videos of Yixing posing with the lion statues, buying icecream, holding sparklers under the streetlamps late at night.
“Look,” Yixing says, holding a brown, leather-cover book under Kris's nose. Kris takes it, flicking through the pages, and feels a twinge in his heart. It’s a diary, dated, with a summary of each day. Kris. Kris. More photos of Kris, with captions underneath them. Canadian. Can’t draw. Tone deaf. Ticklish on his right side. Don’t disturb him while he’s sleeping or he’ll get really grumpy, because he’s grumpypants. Oh, and he likes to tell really really lame jokes.
“Did you make this?”
Yixing nods, grinning. “The videos are great, but I feel like I’m being told, instead of finding out myself. With this, I can tell myself exactly who you are.”
“Okay,” Kris says. He takes out a pen and scribbles out the grumpypants and replaces it with most handsome. “I think it’s accurate now,” he says, and Yixing whacks him on the arm, snatching the book back.
* * *
The first time they kiss is under the new years fireworks.
The countdown goes off, four, three, two, one, and the lights blast into the air, a million brilliant colours illuminating the night sky.
Yixing smiles and tiptoes and presses his lips to Kris's, eyes closing in nervous excitement, and it’s sweet and electric and perfect and everything Kris has ever wanted.
* * *
Jongdae calls in February.
“So I hear you’re living well in that hole,” he says, hint of sarcastic amusement in his voice.
Kris laughs. “I am, thank you very much.”
“I talked to your father yesterday. I think he’s okay if you come back now. So, when do you want me to book your tickets for?”
Kris hesitates. Now that the option’s presented itself, Kris isn’t sure he wants to take it anymore. He might’ve hated being in Hunan at first, but things are different-there’s Yixing, for one-and he can’t bear to leave. The locals know him here. He’s on friendly terms with all the staff at the Hunan branch, and even Zitao, as clingy and pestering as he can get at times, is also strangely endearing, and also a much more lenient personal assistant.
“Don’t,” Kris says. “At least, not yet. I’m staying here. Nothing personal, Jongdae,” he adds, hearing Jongdae’s disappointed ‘aww’ing over the line. “I’m just…liking it here, actually.”
“Alright,” Jongdae says. “But you know, it’s getting mighty boring here without you to pester for paperwork.”
“I’ve got Zitao here doing that in your place,” Kris mutters darkly. Jongdae chuckles. “Hey, I’m gonna go. Stay well.” Kris pauses. “And Jongdae?”
“Hm?”
“If you get the chance, you should go up to my father and tell him to stop deciding for himself what I can and can’t do. Cheers.”
He hangs up.
* * *
Kris and Yixing kiss for a second time in an aquarium.
A third. A fourth. Tenth, twelfth, eighteenth.
No, Kris has to remind himself, when he wants to sneak a hand around Yixing’s waist, pull Yixing closer to his body, breathe him in. First. Always the first, at least for Yixing.
Kris is used to it by now, but Yixing’s not-and will probably never be. The way that Yixing tenses up, fingers intertwining with Kris's, standing up on his tiptoes, breath hitching audibly in his throat, never changes.
“It’s so strange.”
“Hm?” Kris cracks one eye open, from where he’s sleeping on Yixing’s lap. Yixing’s sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, watching a movie, one hand stroking Kris's hair. “What’s strange?”
“I-I wake up and I watch your video, and it just-I know I’ve seen the video a hundred times before, but it always feels like the first. Everything feels like the first. The first time meeting you, the first time going out with you, the first time kissing you.”
“But it’s not,” Kris murmurs, smiling. “It’s okay. There’s no need to rush.”
“Yeah.” Yixing falls silent for a moment. He bites his lower lip. “Kris, can I ask you a question?”
“What is it?”
“Do you…love me?”
Kris lifts his head from where he’s sleeping on Yixing’s lap, surprised. “Hm?”
Yixing sighs, looking uncertain. “I’ve seen the videos. I’ve read my diary. But I still want to hear it from you. Do you love me?”
“Love?” Kris laughs. “Love is…difficult to define.”
Kris thinks of Chanyeol. He thinks of Chanyeol and how fast that had been, from the lingering touches to the late nights pressed up against the glass walls of his Vancouver office, door unlocked, skin on skin, uncaring. That was lust, but not love. And Chanyeol had his own agenda.
Yixing doesn’t. Yixing is-just him. Yixing. Bright, cheerful, caring, beautiful. Spending a day with him makes Kris feel like he’s being swept off his feet and taken on a ride, with no destination in sight. Even if they don’t get past hand-holding, even if they don’t get past a simple kiss, Kris doesn’t think he’ll ever unboard.
“Well,” Kris starts. He reaches a hand up to brush the strands of Yixing’s fringe away from his eyes. “I go to the café, and I meet a boy called Zhang Yixing every day, the boy sitting in the booth composing, or talking loudly to Lu Han, with that stupid smile on his beautiful face and…” Kris sighs. “Yeah. I probably love you more than I love any other person in the world.”
“Wow,” Yixing says. “Wow.”
“What about you?” Kris asks flippantly, not really expecting an answer. He smiles up to Yixing. “Do you love me, then?”
“Love?” Yixing traces a finger over Kris's eyebrows, down his nose, tracing his jawline. “Love is difficult to define,” he repeats, teasing Kris.
“Stop stealing my words,” Kris mutters, amused. Yixing smiles, then grabs Kris's hand and presses it to his chest. “Yixing? What are you doing?”
“Can you feel it?” Yixing presses harder. Kris feels a steady thumping through Yixing’s sweater. “Here-it always gets faster when you’re around. And then it’s hard to breathe. I don’t know. I’ve only met you for the first time today, so I don’t know.”
Yixing takes Kris's hand away.
“It might not be love, but I think it’s close enough.”
* * *
“I don’t want to forget you.”
Yixing leans into Kris, clinging onto Kris's arm. They’re on the way back from dinner, and Yixing’s a little wine-happy, so Kris loops an arm protectively around Yixing’s shoulder to make sure he doesn’t bump into any street lamps on the road by accident. Kris sighs, nodding.
“And I don’t want you to forget me either. But there’s no helping it.”
“What if I stay awake?” Yixing murmurs. “What if I just don’t sleep, so my brain doesn’t shut down-will I remember you then?”
Kris laughs. He pushes open the door to Yixing and Lu Han’s residence. “You’ve tried that twice before. Didn’t work.” Kris remembers it well. Both him and Lu Han had advised Yixing against it, but Yixing had insisted-and both times, Yixing had been unable to stay awake past the 72 hour mark. The instant he woke up, everything he knew about Kris was gone. He had to start from zero again.
“But I don’t want to forget,” Yixing mutters again. Yixing’s grip tightens on Kris's shirt. “It takes so much effort for you just to let me know about you, and put up with me, and-hey, Kris, can you not go tonight? I don’t want you to go.”
Yixing opens his bedroom door, pushing Kris inside. Kris lands on Yixing’s bed, and Yixing sits straddle-legged across Kris's lap. Yixing reaches a hand up to trace Kris's face, and Kris inhales sharply. Yixing’s hands are trembling.
“I feel like I barely know you,” Yixing says, fingers trailing over Kris's lips. He leans against Kris, and Kris can feel the heat of Yixing’s breath against his cheek, more than welcoming. “God, I do barely know you, but I also feel like I’ve known you forever. There’s so much to take in. I wake up and I find out that we’re dating, that we’ve been dating for months, but every date still feels like the first, and every kiss still feels like the first.” Yixing breaks out into a cheeky smile. “And I don’t remember reading anything in my diary about going past this stage yet.”
“Well,” Kris mutters weakly, “there’s always a first time for everything.”
“There is.”
Kris isn’t sure what exactly happens next, or who makes the first move, but he knows that there’s a welling in his chest, and Yixing’s there in front of him, so beautiful-and Kris reaches out and takes Yixing by the wrists and kisses him; stands up so that Yixing slides onto the bed, wild-eyed and breathless and kisses him; runs his hands over Yixing’s face and pushes Yixing down and kisses him, gently, passionately, caringly.
“Kris,” Yixing murmurs. His hands scrabble at Kris's jacket, and Kris flings it off to the side, undoing his tie. “This is-”
“-is this too fast?” Kris breathes, pressing kisses against Yixing’s jawline. Yixing shivers, shaking his head vehemently.
“No, no. It’s like-it’s like I’m falling, and then waking up from a really long dream, and I find that my prince charming’s there in front of me. I feel like Sleeping Beauty,” Yixing says, chuckling, “except I’m a guy.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think I really need that clarification,” Kris murmurs, feeling Yixing hard on his thigh. He reaches down, to the zip and buckle of Yixing’s pants, sliding a hand down past the elastic, and Yixing tilts his head back, hissing between his teeth. “Yixing, are you sure?”
“Do it,” Yixing says. “I want it to be you. Please.”
A flood of second thoughts go through Kris's mind as he takes off Yixing’s shirt and presses kisses against Yixing’s collarbone. He’s drunk. This is too fast. He won’t remember. He’ll hate you-but all of them are outweighed by the euphoric feeling in his chest, the one that screams ‘but it’s Yixing’, so Kris pushes aside his reservations and presses his body against Yixing’s and makes Yixing his.
It’s messy. It’s uncoordinated. It’s nothing like the skilled dexterity or the fast, snappiness of Chanyeol’s wrist that Kris's used to, but in many ways, it’s simpler, and it’s so much better.
Yixing grits out Kris's name when he comes, a quiet whimper, a hitching of breath in his throat, a scrabbling of fingers on Kris's back for purchase. Yixing groans, then bites on Kris's lower lip and curls his hand around Kris-and then Kris can only think in white hot bursts of Yixing, Yixing, Yixing, an unbearable pleasure shuddering through his body-and god, Kris thinks as he comes into Yixing’s hand, he loves this boy, he loves him, he really does.
And, watching Yixing drift off to sleep afterwards, curled up into his side, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
* * *
But the more he loves, the more it hurts.
It’s inevitable. The forgetting. Kris knows, very well, that every day, his place in Yixing’s heart and Yixing’s mind is wiped away. Kris becomes a complete stranger. Usually, Yixing recovers it all, though the video and through the diary, but it’s not always foolproof.
Kris wakes up the next morning, and sees Yixing’s face next to his, stunning, perfect. He reaches out to caress it, hands resting on the side of Yixing’s face. Yixing opens his eyes, and for a moment, they’re both stuck in that wondrous moment between dreams and reality-but then Yixing blinks, once, twice, and in less than half a second, that content smile turns into a look of confusion, a look of horror. Kris lies there, unable to react, as Yixing yanks off the blankets and sees himself naked and Kris naked and registers that they’re in one bed and screams.
It hurts.
“Lu Han,” Yixing shouts, panicked, “Lu Han, where are you? Why-why is there a strange man in my bed?”
“I’m-” Kris covers himself with the blanket. “Goddammit. Yixing, wait, sorry-”
“-don’t come near me.”
“What’s going on?” Lu Han bursts in, and Kris ducks as Yixing hurls a book at him. “Shit, Yixing, Yixing, calm down, wait-”
“-who is this person?” Yixing hurls a photo frame at Kris. It hits him on the head. There’s a crack, the glass of the photo frame breaking, and Kris can feel blood trickling down the side of his head.
“Oh my god,” Lu Han breathes. “Wait, I’ll get the bandages.”
Kris puts a hand up to his head. There’s red, staining his fingers. A lot of red. A sharp, tingling pain.
His heart still hurts more.
* * *
Yixing calms down enough to watch the video.
“Oh,” he says, when the video finishes. Kris stands behind him, grim. Lu Han hands Yixing his diary. Yixing flicks through the pages quickly. First date. Second date. First kiss. Fireworks. “Oh, oh my god. I’m sorry, Kris, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Kris mutters, but his heart’s not with his words this time.
“I’m-” Yixing sighs, gripping the diary in his hands. They’re trembling. He’s visibly shaken. “I need some time. I’m sorry, I’m going to read this in my room.”
“Are you okay?” Lu Han asks quietly, when Yixing door shuts. Kris nods, wincing as his head pounds from the motion. “It’s the amnesia. Don’t take it too personally.”
“I’m not,” Kris mutters. “It’s-” he sighs, unable to finish his sentence. “I’m going to go down to the office. I think I want to be away from here for a while.”
“Bandage yourself up first,” Lu Han says, handing him a roll. He pushes Kris to the bathroom. “I don’t want you dying of blood loss.”
Kris is admiring his bandages when his mobile rings. He scrambles to pick it up without checking the caller ID.
“Kris.”
Kris closes his eyes. It’s his father.
“I heard stories. From the staff at the office-you’re seeing someone, aren’t you? A boy called Yixing. Stop that now and come back to Vancouver.”
Kris rests his head on the mirror. As usual. “Dad, I’m staying here.”
“There’s no need,” his father says. “You don’t need to stay there any longer; Hunan’s renovation project is nearly completed anyway. Forget about Yixing. Come back to Vancouver, and I’ll put you in a higher executive position.”
Kris grits his teeth. His father doesn’t understand. A higher position isn’t what he wants. “No.”
“No?”
“I’m staying here. Dad, I’m sick of running back and forth as you please. Don’t lie, I know you didn’t send me down here so I could ‘gain experience’. You sent me down here because you didn’t like Chanyeol.”
There’s a tense silence. “The company will be yours after I retire. I can’t have you with just anyone. They’re probably using you for your status, son, and your money. Listen to me.”
“No,” Kris says. “Chanyeol, yes, maybe. But not Yixing. Not him. Not everyone has an agenda. I’ve met some really nice people here, dad, really nice. And they’re not nice to me for the money, because they don’t know that I’m your son. What kind of son of a multimillionaire chairman comes down to a remote town in the middle of Hunan and works in an office?”
“Don’t you argue with me.” His father’s voice has a hard edge to it now. There’s a long pause. “Kris, listen to me. Come back to Vancouver, now.”
“Give me some time, dad.”
“You don’t have-”
“-please, dad, please. I like Yixing. I love him. I’m staying here with him. It won’t affect the company. Just-just learn to let me do things at my own pace.”
Kris slides his phone shut and slips it back into his pocket. He stares at himself in the mirror.
His father might have the wrong reasons for sending him here and there, but there is still one thing that Kris knows is inevitable, and he’s been trying to avoid-he’ll have to go back to Vancouver sometime. He’d promised Lu Han to be there, but if his father was going to keep pressuring him like this, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last.
Kris sighs. He splashes his face furiously with water.
* * *
Kris can’t concentrate at work. His thoughts drift from listlessly signing and stamping documents to his father’s words and the incident earlier with Yixing, and he finds that his mind wanders. When Kris finally decides to leave the company building, he’s surprised to find Yixing waiting outside.
“Kris?” Yixing peers closer. “Hi. I’m sorry about earlier. The, um, photo frame. Is your head okay?”
Kris looks at Yixing. Normally, at this stage, Yixing would be smiling and trying to find similarities between the real Kris and the Kris that he’s read about in his diary-but not today. Today, he’s hugging his diary to his chest with both arms, a sad look in his eyes.
“Yixing,” Kris says. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”
Yixing shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “I’m going to cut to the chase. Kris, I’m breaking up with you.”
Kris blinks. For a moment, everything’s still, and then Yixing’s words hit him.
“Why?”
Yixing walks up to him. He opens his diary to the last page, and takes out a sheet of yellow paper, holding it in front of Kris's face.
Yixing, remember: Kris is the son of the chairman of Wu Huifei Industries
He has a company’s future on his shoulders
He’s meant to be back in Vancouver
He’s staying here because of you
Don’t hold him back
“My room’s right next to the bathroom,” Yixing says softly. “I could hear everything. How come you never told me before? I mean, not today, but-there’s no mention of this in any previous entries. I went through them all again to confirm.”
“I’m-”
“-you’re the chairman’s son. You’re meant to be in other places, bigger, better places, not here with me. I’ve been thinking. I’m not worth it.”
“You’re worth every second,” Kris protests. “I don’t want to leave you. Here, look, give me the note. I’ll throw it away, and you’ll wake up tomorrow, and you won’t remember anything, and it’ll be all good.”
Yixing shakes his head. “I’ve made a decision. If you take the note away, that would be unfair to me. Stealing away my memories. Stealing away the truth. I’m just a burden. I’m breaking up with you today.”
“Yixing, you’re not a burden-”
“-your dad’s right, you know? You need to find someone who’s on the same level as you. I’m a nobody with less than five figures in my bank account and incurable anterograde amnesia. All I’d do is drag you down.”
“Yixing-”
“-I slept with you,” Yixing whispers, pained. Kris's heart twinges. “I slept with you, and I can’t even remember it. What’s the point, of you wasting all this time on me, trying to get me to remember you, and me not ever being able to? I’ll only hurt you. You’ll begin to resent me. I don’t want that.”
“I can’t hate you,” Kris says desperately. The sharp pain in his chest intensifies. “Who could?”
Yixing sighs. “I’ve decided. No more. I’m going to erase you out of my life. I’m destroying all the diary entries about you.”
“Don’t.”
Yixing hugs his diary to himself. “I want you to be there with me, just one last time.”
* * *
The photos burn in the dark, the fire spitting a dirty grey-orange into the sky. One by one, the carefully written words-not just words, but feelings, emotions, realities-disintegrate to nothing.
“The day we went to the amusement park,” Yixing says, smiling. “Aw. You bought a unicorn doll for me.”
“And you got me a dragon,” Kris mutters. Yixing had also pushed him into the pool meant for little children. He’d been dripping wet the rest of the day. Kris’s smile turns into a grimace as he watches the page turn to dust.
“That time we tried to finish an entire forty-scoop tower of gelato.” Kris takes the photo. It’s Yixing, holding two spoons, tongue stuck out. 好吃！Yummy! the caption below says. That goes into the fire.
“You wrote this for me,” Kris says. The sheet music flutters. “I remember this. We were sitting by the river, and you sang it for me.” It goes too.
Day by day, page by page, memory by memory.
Paper curling up into black ashes, glossy plastic melting into twisted, shapeless forms.
“Is this what you really want?” Kris asks softly. Yixing nods. He rips out the last page, holding it over the fire. The flames catch, engulfing the page, and Yixing lets go.
Seven months reduced to ash.
Yixing tries to smile at Kris. The corners of his lips are curled upwards, but his eyes scream regret. Kris runs a thumb over Yixing’s cheek. It’s moist. Kris feels his vision blurring as well, and he wipes angrily at his face with his sleeve.
“Well,” Yixing says, voice thick with tears, “I guess that’s it.”
* * *
In the coming weeks, the company building gets completely knocked down. It’s so they can re-do the piping and electricity and prepare it for renovations-long overdue renovations-and Kris would be glad that they’re finally fixing that safety hazard of an office he had-if he were still staying here.
Jongdae had called. “Your plane tickets have been booked. Your visa’s going to expire if you don’t come back, and I don’t particularly want to bail you out of jail. You better come back before your father disowns you, by the way.” Kris had agreed, too tired to argue. It was over anyway. Yixing was out of his life. He had no purpose here anymore.
Two weeks, one week, and then Kris is hauling a suitcase up the steps of the train station, about to say goodbye to the place that has made him feel so many different things the past eight months.
Lu Han’s on the platform, waiting for Kris. Kris squints, not sure if he’s seeing properly-but sure enough, it’s Lu Han, holding a package.
“Lu Han,” Kris says. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Here,” Lu Han says. He pushes the package over. “A gift. Thank you for the experience. This time with you around has been-interesting. Challenging.”
Kris takes the package with a smile and a nod, tucking it into his backpack. The train guard blows the whistle, signalling two minutes until departure.
“So,” Kris says. “I guess I’m leaving.”
There’s a silence.
“Zitao told me you’re going to take over your father’s position in Vancouver.”
Kris frowns. “Yeah, I guess I’ll be doing more stuff now. Helping out my father. Expanding worldwide. I still can’t figure out how everyone suddenly found out who I was.” Lu Han tries to hide a grin, pulling a nonchalant poker face without much success, and Kris narrows his eyes. “I knew it.”
“Hey, I only told Zitao. It’s Zitao’s fault for not being able to keep his mouth shut,” Lu Han defends.
Kris laughs. “Doesn’t matter now. What about you? What are your plans?”
Lu Han shrugs. “Well, now that Yixing’s checked himself into the infirmary…I don’t have anything to do anymore, except run the café. But Jongin and Sehun asked me to go up to Beijing last week to try out for the Dance Academy again-and I’ve been practising, so…” Lu Han smiles. “I might join them.”
Kris nods. There’s one final question on the tip of his tongue, one that he’s promised himself he wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t remind himself, but-“And how’s Yixing? Does he…remember anything?”
Lu Han smiles sadly. “I don’t know. I can’t even see him that often, because he’s at the institution. The specialist said that he’s happy there, though. He’s teaching music to some of the patients. He’s even singing and composing on the guitar every day.”
The train guard blows the whistle twice, and Kris sighs. He pulls his luggage up into the train. “Thank you. I have to go now. It was-honestly, I’ll miss it here.”
The train doors close.
“Hey,” Lu Han shouts through the train doors. “Hey, Kris, make sure you open the package on the train!”
* * *
The attendant on the train asks if he wants anything. He declines, a sour feeling in his mouth. The package sits on the seat next to him, untouched. He stares at it for a moment as the train jerks and sets off, a mix of anticipation and dread, before ripping it open.
There are two things in it. The first is a CD player. The second Kris recognises instantly when it falls out of the package onto his lap. His heart leaps into his throat. He’s finding it hard to breathe.
A brown, leather-covered book.
Yixing’s diary.
Kris smooths his hands over the cover. He opens it. The diary is a lot thinner than it had been before-most of the entries gone, burnt away on that day, the last time he’d seen Yixing.
I lied. We burnt everything, but I couldn’t bear to erase you completely.
So I’ll just leave these few lines here, and leave myself to wonder every morning who you are.
Kris, wonderful Kris, who’s put up with so much-forgive me.
PS: I never told you, but I was falling in love.
Kris slams the diary shut. He can feel his heart tearing at the seams, barely held together by will.
There’s a sticky note on the CD player. Yixing’s compositions while in the infirmary! it reads. He’s composing every day. They sent me a copy of all the songs he’s recorded. I thought you might want one too.
He takes a breath to collect himself, then puts the earphones in and presses play on the CD. The guitar starts off, a familiar melody sounding, then Yixing’s voice comes on and Kris almost can’t stand it.
“Oh baby, please don’t go, please don’t leave me waiting for you alone.”
“Composing every day,” Kris mutters. He furrows his eyebrows. There’s something off here, something that he’s missing.
Lu Han’s voice rings in his head. “He only finishes composing that song on days he meets you.”
Kris's heart stops for a nanosecond. If Yixing had finished writing these songs in the infirmary, without having met him, then-
Oh, Kris thinks. Realisation dawns on him. Oh.
“Oh.”
It’s a possibility. It’s a slim, miniscule possibility, but it’s still a possibility-and Kris realises, gripping Yixing’s diary in his hands, that even if it was a one in a million chance, he’d be willing to drop everything for Yixing. He doesn’t want to leave for Vancouver; doesn’t want want to take over his father’s position, if Yixing wasn’t going to be there beside him.
The train pulls into Changsha station. Kris rips out his earphones, grabs his suitcase, and rushes out the doors.
* * *
The corridors of the infirmary are even longer than Kris remembers them being. He abandons his luggage near the elevators and runs, searching left and right, opening doors to see if Yixing’s in any of them.
“Hey!” the security guard shouts. “Hey, excuse me! You’re not allowed to enter patients’ rooms without authorisation.”
“I am a patient,” Kris shouts, “I’m, uh, looking for my room. Memory disease! I can’t remember where it is,” he lies.
The security guard scratches his head, miffed. “Poor guy,” he mutters.
Kris finds Yixing in the room at the very end, facing the courtyard. He’s sitting in front of a music stand, a guitar on his lap, a pencil in his hand. Kris pushes open the door, holding his breath.
“Hey,” Kris says. Yixing looks at him, eyebrows furrowing gently. Kris searches for any signs of recognition on Yixing’s face.
“Hi,” Yixing says. His eyes travel to the diary that Kris is holding. He bites his lower lip and tilts his head slowly. “Do I…know you from somewhere?”
“Do you remember?” Kris asks, walking up to Yixing. Yixing puts the guitar aside, standing up from his seat. “Do you remember me?”
Yixing shakes his head. “No.”
Kris's heart crashes from where it’s been suspended on a highwire. He can taste the bitter disappointment. His shoulders slump, and he drops his arms to his sides. “Oh. Oh, never mind-”
“-wait,” Yixing says, walking up to Kris. “Don’t go.”
Yixing raises a hand. Kris gulps. “May I?” Yixing asks, and Kris nods. Yixing runs his fingers over Kris's face. Tracing his nose, his cheekbone, the line of his jaw. “You…you remind me of something. A song. A melody. Black coffee.”
Kris gulps. Yixing drops his hand and steps back, looking Kris up and down.
“It’s strange. I’ve never met you. I don’t remember who you are.”
“But?”
Yixing takes Kris's hand places it to his chest, gripping onto Kris's lower arm. Kris can feel Yixing’s heart, thumping irregularly under his palm. Yixing gently squeezes Kris's arm.
“But for some reason, this part of me tells a different story.”
* * *
“Hey dude, you got that press conference today?”
Kris groans as he picks up the phone. Henry. Of all the days to call.
“Yes, Henry,” Kris rubs his eyes and sits up in bed. “Because I really needed a reminder at six in the morning.”
“Hey, I don’t know what time it is there! It’s your fault for staying in the motherland.” Kris yawns in response. “Man, I still don’t understand how you managed to get your dad’s approval for that thing,” Henry continues. “He’d never give to charity.”
Kris laughs. “Well, I think he realised that I’m his only son, and this wasn’t something I could give up so easily. Hey, after cutting me off for three months and finding out I was doing fine without him and the company, I guess he thought it’d be best to have me back and let me do things my way. Plus, the Beijing branch kinda needs a…more trustworthy head manager and some positive PR.”
Henry sighs. “All for Yixing. How is he?”
“Sleeping next to me.” A pause. “He looks so beautiful.”
“You’re so far gone, man.”
Kris grins. He’s pretty sure he’s smiling like an idiot, but Henry can’t see over the phone. “And so what? Hey, stop playing around. Once you fall in love, you’ll understand-you’ll do anything for them.” Yixing stirs next to him, making a content noise. Kris drops his voice. “And speaking of which, I gotta get out of the room and get the videos ready before Yixing wakes up and tries to throw a pot plant at my head. Talk to you later!”
“So far gone.”
* * *
“…We believe it’s important for us to give back to the community. That’s why Wu Huifei Industries has taken on the project of constructing medical facilities for the research of neurological disorders. We’re hoping with the opening of the Beijing Institute, more people with neurological disorders will have access to the help and treatment they deserve.”
Kris gives a slight bow as he steps away from the podium. The reporters and journalists snap photos, while the company shareholders mutter things at the back of the room. Kris surreptitiously scans the room, looking, looking-
“What’s the reason for taking on this project?” a journalist shouts out. “I understand that the funding for this project is 70% from the company itself, and likely to result in a net loss-why would the company shoulder that?”
There.
Kris turns to smile at the reporter, but his eyes are fixated on that someone else-someone hidden away in the fourth row of seats, with a glowing smile. Yixing gives Kris a thumbs up.
“Mr. Wu? Your answer?”
“Well,” Kris says. He thinks of Yixing, of the days he’s spent, of all the tears and conflicts and pain, but then he thinks of the happy highs, the sheer thrill of each new day, Yixing’s voice in his ear at night, and he grins. “Because there's a first time for everything.”
* * *
(“Do you love me?”
“I do.”
“How many times have I asked this question?”
“Five hundred and sixty four.”
“And how many times have I asked that question?”
“Five hundred and sixty four.”
“Are you making this up?”
“No.”
“And how many times have I-”
Kris shuts Yixing up by pulling him into a kiss.)
a/n: late repost is late u___u massive thanks to C, A and M for trolling on my gdocs, and potaoto for beta n___n
original prompt for r&g: 50 first dates krislay with lay with the memory disease! it doesn't have to follow closely, but i'd like the general plot to be similar :') and there's a scene where lay leaves this for wu fan? ;; no sad ending please ;___;
