(The) Coming Times [exo; lay/luhan/xiumin]
(The) Coming Times
lay/luhan/xiumin
pg-13, romance, drama, supernatural-ish, 5225 words
Yixing sees his future with Lu Han end before it even begins.
(i don't know how this managed to surpass 5k, please shoot me. also, guess the prompt which made me write this.)
When Lu Han first meets Yixing and their fingers brush, the lights flicker overhead, once, twice, before there’s a blackout. Curses are spewed along the hallways, thuds and clunks echoing as people trip over air, suddenly finding themselves statis halfway through an awkward dance move, singing along to a soundless void, pressed up against each other illicitly in the dark.
“What an ominous acquaintance,” Lu Han murmurs, and Yixing squeezes his hand just a bit tighter.
Later in the cafeteria, Chanyeol slides up next to Yixing, introduces himself quickly to Lu Han, and scans the room curiously before furrowing his eyebrows. “Hey, where’s Minseok?” he asks, chewing on a limp portion of lettuce.
Yixing bites down on a baby tomato, the sour juice squirts and burns the inside of his cheek.
“Who’s Minseok?” Lu Han leans side ways to whisper into his ear. Yixing shrugs, and swallows the rest of the tomato in one go. He knows Minseok, but not enough to warrant the right to be able to inform a fresh mind about him.
“He’s in the hospital,” Kris answers, “tripped and broke his leg during the blackout.”
Chanyeol laughs and bites down onto his fist, “Why do I find this so hilarious? I need to stop being so gleeful at everyone else’s pain,” he snorts, twirling two chopsticks around his fingers. He looks up at the curious expression etched across Lu Han’s face and laughs again, “I haven’t slept in two days, I’m not usually like this,” he assures.
“Riiiight,” Kris stretches the word, patting Chanyeol on the shoulder.
Minseok comes back from the hospital the next day at 3:40pm, and ends up in the company’s sick bay at 4pm. Kris stands at the edge of his bed, with Yixing standing next to him out of obligation and due to their arm of mutual friends.
“I’m sorry man, I swear I had no idea you were allergic,” Kris rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and Yixing savours the rare moment for a bit.
Minseok sighs, shifting his elevated leg slightly and moving up the pillow. “It’s alright, maybe some people were never meant to be good people,” he jokes, voice small and raw, as if it hurt to speak. “Anyway, tell Jino I’m not going to be able to make practice today, please,” he requests, smiling good naturedly.
“Urgh,” Kris rubs a hand down his face, “seriously, I’m sorry. Fucking Chanyeol, he--”
“Kris, seriously,” Minseok interrupts, “It. Is. Fine.” he enunciates. “You should get to practice, you too Yixing, and you too.... curious person I have never met before,” Minseok lifts himself up on his elbows and squints, “hey?”
Lu Han moves from behind Yixing and smacks his lips together, clearly flustered. “Sorry, I’m Lu Han, I um, I’m new.”
“Oh,” Minseok says, “well, I hope you like it here.”
And that’s the end of their awkward first meeting. Nothing breaks, no breeze flits through the open window, the fat lady doesn’t sing, and Lu Han and Yixing walk back to the practice room side by side.
“He’s cute,” Lu Han says after a few minutes.
“Hm?” Yixing asks.
Lu Han turns his head towards him, “Minseok,” he clarifies.
“Ah, alright,” Yixing hums a short tune under his breath, but it catches in his throat. “Wait,” he looks back to Lu Han, blinking, “do you?”
Lu Han raises an eyebrow, “Do I what?”
Yixing’s mouth feels dry, tongue parched, not enough moisture to form coherent words, not enough energy to understand what he was asking, “Do you like--?” he tries again.
“Do I what?” Lu Han asks, “Yixing?”
They’ve stopped walking, and they’re both staring at eachother under the dull fluorescent lights of the hallway.
“Yixing?” Lu Han asks again.
Why does it even matter so much?
“Yixing! Yixing! YIXIIIIIING!” Chanyeol hollers, whacking the back of Yixing’s head.
Yixing looks up, the remnants of a half-eaten tomato still warm on his tongue, “Huh?” he asks, looking around. The cafeteria was bustling, the special of the day -- garden salad -- was advertised on a lime green piece of cardboard stuck to the side of the entrance.
“Are you okay?” Lu Han asks, prodding Yixing on the shoulder, “it looked like you spaced out there for a second.”
Yixing opens his mouth, “Uh...”
“Well, it’s nice to see Yixing has yet again reached a new level of four dimensionality, but what were you saying?” Kris turns to Chanyeol after giving Yixing a skeptical, but concerned, look.
“Oh right,” Chanyeol snaps his head towards Kris, “I’m going to gather some money from Jino and the rest, and we can buy Minseok a bouquet. You have to give it to him tomorrow, I have some showcase to attend,” he explains, stealing a portion of Yixing’s salad when he thinks he’s not looking. Yixing notices, but his mind is too stuck in the past -- or the future, he guesses -- to really call him out on his transgression.
The next day plays out differently than what he expects, but Lu Han meets Minseok, and as they’re walking back to the practice room together, Yixing still has that question on the tip of his tongue, which -- he realises later whilst looking up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling of his room that night -- is really all that mattered.
“I’m going to die from exhaustion,” Lu Han complains, resting his head in between his knees, arms wrapped uselessly around his legs. Yixing’s stamina is impressive, and after years of practice he isn’t nearly as enervated as Lu Han is, but he slides down next to him on the wall and rests his head back anyway.
“It gets easier,” he assures, passing Lu Han a water bottle.
Lu Han takes one long and withdrawn gulp, before passing it back to Yixing. He pushes his sweaty bangs away from his forehead and looks up the stairs. The lights from the performance seep through the parting of the door -- pink, blue, and yellow playing across Lu Han’s face, dancing in the empty void of his eyes.
“You know, sometimes I don’t know how I’d get by without you,” Lu Han says, smiling bitterly. Yixing reaches out and takes Lu Han’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. Lu Han squeezes back before sighing and disentangling their digits.
“It gets easier,” Yixing promises, wrapping an arm around Lu Han’s waist.
“I think we’ve filled our sentimentality quota for the month or something,” Lu Han laughs, turning around and burying his face into Yixing’s neck. He inhales, and recognises the distinct smell of smoke and the woody scent of some high-priced cologne he never remembers Lu Han purchasing. It gets his blood boiling at an uncomfortable temperature, and he eases into Lu Han’s touch a bit too compliantly, he’s almost suspicious of himself.
“Yixing!”
A cool liquid trickles down Yixing’s face and he sputters before wiping his eyes and blinking up at Lu Han. “What?” he asks, a bit more forcefully than what was needed. Lu Han knelt in front of him in the practice room, his grey shirt stained with patches of sweat.
“You spaced out again. Seriously, either you’re an unearthed genius, or just really airheaded, I’m sort of leaning towards the latter,” Lu Han teases, ruffling Yixing’s damp hair affectionately. Yixing expects his veins to heat up and his muscles to tense, instead there’s a small flutter in his stomach, but it’s scary enough.
“I’ve just met you...” Yixing murmurs to himself in mandarin, but Lu Han picks up on the words and laughs.
“Well, take it as a compliment, you make people feel easy,” Lu Han grins, and his smile is bright and lustrous and Yixing thinks he could get used to seeing it everyday for the rest of his life.
“I think I’m going to fall in love with him,” Yixing tells Jongin a week later, as they lay in their singlets sprawled against the cool, dewy grass. Another late night of practice, and amongst the pounding of beats and the easy movements of their limbs, it’s 5am before either of them notice.
“Who?” Jongin questions sleepily, eyelids struggling to remain open. Yixing doesn’t mind though, he knows Jongin isn’t going to remember in the morning, but that’s why he discloses everything to him at the peak of dawn when they’re both muggy and deadbeat. He supposes he should be a better Hyung, but one learns to live for himself about six months after being separated from their roots.
“Lu Han.” Yixing answers, squinting at the orange glow slowly spilling over the horizon. He intakes the sharp morning air and lifts up his hands, wiggling his fingers against the glaucous sky. “I’m going to fall in love with him,” the words sound easier and less insane when uttered in daybreak.
“Didn’t he just join like, three weeks ago,” Jongin grumbles, rolling to the side and letting the wet blades of grass tickle his cheek.
“I don’t love him now. But I’m going to. I don’t know when though.” Yixing explains, though it does nothing to make his reasoning sound rational, “Crazy, huh?”
The chirping of birds begin from the tree a little away from them, and a splash of red and yellow fuse with the orange swimming across Seoul’s skyline. Jongin’s snores waft from beside him, and Yixing sighs before sitting up and wrapping one of Jongin’s arms around his neck, struggling to lift him upright. Unlike Yixing, Jongin had somewhere to go home to.
“Are you sure you should be walking around, Hyung?” Sehun asks, scooting over to make room for Minseok, who lifts his cast up and over the chair with much difficulty.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” Minseok replies, prying open his lunchbox and emitting a disappointed moan at the contents inside. “Ah well, should have figured,” he frowns and probes the tofu salad in front of him with a single chopstick, grimacing when he puts it in his mouth and begins chewing. He meets Sehun’s pitiful expression and forces a smile, giving him a thumbs up. “Delicious,” he says through a mouthful.
“Um, do you want some of my beef?” Lu Han offers his chopstick with the saucy delectable hanging off the edge. Minseok looks at it longingly before coming back to his senses and clearing his throat, looking down at his miserable tofu.
“No, no, I don’t like meat,” Minseok assures, “but thanks anyway... Lu... Han?” he tries, and grins when Lu Han nods in approval.
Yixing eyes the exchange and turns back to his meal of ddeokbokki before noticing the smile on Minseok’s face. Lu Han wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer towards him, whispering into his ear with a cheeky grin quirking at the side of his lips. The fans below them cheer and it eggs Minseok on, he raises two small fingers and beckons towards Lu Han, who completes him with a heart. They blow it at the fans, bowing with their arms around each other. Yixing watches from two seats down, a knot in his chest tightening.
Later that night, Yixing sleeps with his back turned to Lu Han. The lamp between their beds glowing dimly, casting a buttery hue on the walls.
“Are you mad at me?” Lu Han murmurs from his side of the room, shifting to face Yixing’s stiff spine.
Yixing buries himself deeper into his pillow. “No,” he states.
There’s rustling and some light footsteps, and Yixing feels a warmth on his shoulder. He presses his eyes shut tight, willing his blood to simmer down. This was so inappropriate.
“Why not?” Lu Han asks. He’s too close, his voice comes at an inappropriate angle, wisping inappropriately against the shell of his ear, and when Yixing turns his head in a half-daze, Lu Han is leaning down at an entirely inappropriate speed.
“That looks nice,” Sehun says, and Yixing jumps. Lu Han grins and leans forward, feeding Sehun the beef pressed between his chopsticks. Yixing bites his lip and stands up from the table.
“I’m going to go and try to catch some extra-practice,” Yixing says.
Lu Han looks up at him, “Um, okay, see you later?”
When he reaches the bathroom he runs the tap until it’s stuck and splashes his face with the startlingly cold water. He stands there, neck bent, fringe dripping into the white basin morosely for ten minutes, before resting his wet forehead on the cold mirror in front of him, breathing heavily.
The door creaks open and Minseok steps in, “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, staring at Yixing’s currently drenched state.
Yixing nods against the mirror, exhaling and fogging up his reflection.
“Are you sure? You left abruptly, and kind of randomly too,” Minseok worries his lip between his teeth and waits for a response.
“Yeah, just felt a little sick,” Yixing replies, bending down towards the sink, the dirt from his pores slowly swirling down the basin.
“Ah, understandable,” Minseok smiles, and then brings out a familiar lunchbox from behind his back and discards it into the bin. Yixing looks at the many full and wasted cubes of tofu lying in a heap amongst the actual litter.
“Do you hate tofu that much?” Yixing asks. He doesn’t really care, but he feels obligated to show concern.
Minseok shrugs, “Not really, but I can’t eat anymore. I have to make sure to watch my weight if I want to debut,” he explains.
Yixing rips off a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser and dries his face and hands with it, scratching the coarse surface against his skin thoroughly before throwing it in the trash. “You’re going to debut,” Yixing says walking past Minseok towards the exit.
Minseok turns around, “You can’t be too sure, I mean... Junmyeon...” he trails off.
Yes you can. “You’re going to debut, but not if you starve yourself,” Yixing tries again before closing the bathroom door behind him.
“It’s such a sunny day!” Lu Han exclaims, exaggeratedly and obnoxiously. Yixing looks up at him from the floor, putting down the mixed CDs he was currently skimming through.
“How would you know? You’re inside,” he deadpans, thinning his lips.
Lu Han snorts and bends down, grabbing Yixing’s hands with his own, shaking them excitedly. “Come on Yixing, let’s go out for a bit, please,” he pleads. Lu Han’s hands are warm and eager against Yixing’s clammy and calloused ones, but Yixing pulls away and wipes them down the length of his jeans.
“We should practice a bit more, Gege,” he responds, picking up the CDs and resuming his scanning
Lu Han groans and stands upright, “Buzzkill,” he murmurs, frowning when Yixing merely shrugs and goes to turn on the CD player. “Hey, I’m going to the bathroom for a bit okay?” he says. Yixing nods, and listens to the sound of Lu Han’s sneakers scuffling across the wooden floor and the slam of the door when he leaves.
“Don’t worry, he’s just stressed,” Kris says, collecting the cards and shuffling them with quick fingers. Quicker than his dance moves, Yixing thinks bitterly.
There’s a thud and a crash from inside their shared bedroom, and Yixing winces when Kris drops the playing cards, splaying them randomly all over the floor.
“Maybe someone should go check on him?” Jongdae asks, eyes travelling to Yixing of their own accord. Yixing’s shoulders stiffen and he plays with a loose strand of fibre protruding from the carpet. There’s a tense silence until Minseok sighs and lifts himself up, their game off Cheat all but forgotten.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Minseok says, treading carefully over the fallen cards and moving his way tentatively to Yixing’s room.
Kris makes them all continue their game, to focus on the numbers and the lies across their faces instead of the restrained, but still much too loud voices permeating from the room behind them.
”You need to shut the fuck up, no one expects anything of you.”
”You’re the only one who expects anything of yourself, you know that right?”
“Two Queens,” Jongdae puts down two cards in the middle.
”Stop feeling sorry for yourself all the time, you’re turning everyone into a fucking enemy.”
”Honestly, I’m not sure who the fuck you even are anymore, but I don’t care any less.”
Kris puts down three cards, “Three Kings,” he says.
“Cheat,” Yixing refutes. Kris swears and adds the pile from the floor into his own hands. Tao sifts through his own deck, pursing his lips, seemingly in thought.
”I’m sorry you’re such a fucking martyr, but no one asked you to be.”
“Two Sevens.”
”I’m not even sure how any of it is your business, Minseok. Since when do you care about anything that doesn’t involve calories?"
”That was a low blow, but I can pretend you didn’t mean it.”
Yixing looks through his cards, he has a vast array of choices, the Gods were with him in this round. He picks out the only two cards not bent at the edges.
“Two Eights,” he lies.
”If you’re going to go and dig at my self esteem I’d appreciate it if you’d at least fucking look at me. God, all I do is care about--”
Yixing swallows. Jongdae looks at him pointedly and opens his mouth, but hesitates and instead puts down his play.
“One Nine.”
They go through four revolutions without anyone being called out for cheating -- and it’s a bit ridiculous, and maybe their senses are simply dull today. The door behind them opens and Lu Han steps out of the room, skin tight and pale. Minseok shuffles behind him, fidgeting with his hands.
“I’m going to get some water,” Lu Han says, his voice is quiet and he walks calmly to the kitchen. Minseok sits down beside Jongdae on the floor, and there’s something like guilt in his eyes when he looks up.
“I’ll just watch for this round,” Minseok says.
Kris shakes his head. “No, it’s okay, we’ve already dealed for you, didn’t think you’d take so long,” he hands him a small deck, and Yixing doesn’t say anything, but he thinks it’s a little unfair.
Yixing looks through his cards before placing one down tentatively, “One King,” he enunciates slowly, lying through his teeth.
Minseok looks at him cautiously before going through his own -- unfairly thin -- hand. He bites the inside of his cheek before putting down his play. Lu Han returns with a glass of water, watching the game silently from where he was seated demurely on the sofa behind them.
“Two Aces,” Minseok says.
Yixing doesn’t waste his breath, “Cheat!” he exclaims.
Minseok raises an eyebrow and flips his cards over, ace of clubs and ace of hearts.
“Wow, Yixing gets the whole lot!” Jongdae marvels.
“What, that’s impossible--” he sifts through his hands for the corresponding cards, he has an ace of diamonds and an ace of spades, “I- I-” Yixing blinks rapidly, looking around the circle, “I counted wrong...” he trails off.
He hears Lu Han choke behind him.
Yixing runs through the company with more drive propelling him than all of his late night practice sessions combined, speeding through the halls and only narrowly turning the sharp corners. “Lu Han! Lu Han! Let’s go out!” he shouts, running into the male bathroom. All the stalls are empty, their doors swinging open lamely, forgotten. One of the new trainees, Kyungsoo, looks up at Yixing with wide eyes from the sink, razor in one hand, shaving cream in another.
“Hey, is something wrong?” he asks.
Yixing feels bad, but he runs away, bolting away from the bathroom and down the stairs. “Lu Han! Hey, Lu Han! Let’s go get some ice cream!” he hollers. His legs carry him to the back of the building, near the basketball courts, where the sun tended to shine extra bright.
“Lu Han! Lu Han! Lu--”
“That was so unfair! If I knew we were allowed to kick the ball into other people’s faces, it’d have been my tactic a long time ago!”
Yixing stops at the glass doors, voice dying on him.
Lu Han laughs and throws the ball at Minseok, who stops rubbing his forehead long enough to catch it before it hit the asphalt. “Okay, you can try and score now.” Lu Han says.
“I think you’re only doing this so you can bask in your superior athletic abilities, you don’t have to lie to me,” Minseok grumbles, walking behind the makeshift chalk boundary drawn across the court. He moves his foot back and angles it at an exact degree so it goes into the goal, or into Lu Han’s face, Yixing isn’t too sure.
Minseok looks up, ready to strike, but frowns. “Why are you smiling at me,” he murmurs self-consciously, rubbing at his forehead, “do I have something on my face?” he asks.
Lu Han grins bashfully, “You’re really cute~” he cooes.
Minseok blinks at him, baffled. “What?”
“Your cheeks, they’re so round,” Lu Han pulls at his own cheeks to demonstrate, “round and pale, like a steamed bun.”
Minseok looks like he’s at a loss for words, “Are you... are you calling me fat?” he asks. And Lu Han falls into a fit of laughter, leaning against the pole of the basketball net for support.
Yixing walks back inside.
“Are you avoiding me?” Lu Han asks, closing the door of the practice room behind him. Yixing stops halfway through his turn, skidding to a halt with a shrill squeak.
“Sorry Gege, I didn’t hear you come in,” Yixing reaches for the towel draped over the CD player, dabbing at his neck with the white cotton. Yes, he was avoiding Lu Han, but he had thought he had done it with some degree of stealth. From the way Lu Han was eyeing him accusingly, apparently he had thought wrong, and so it was time for plan B. Ignorance.
“My question. Are you ignoring me?” Lu Han repeats.
The timber between them looked to Yixing as if it stretched on for miles, rather than the few metres it actually did. “Why would you think that?” Yixing asks, not even trying to inject some kind of persuasion into his tone.
Lu Han shrugs, “Well it’s kind of obvious when you do, when you aren’t around me anymore. I mean, you are the closest person to me in this company.”
For now.
“I’m not avoiding you,” Yixing insists.
Lu Han narrows his eyes at him from behind dead blonde bangs, years of bleach and dye causing his hair to lose its life. “Can we talk about it?” Lu Han whispers, scared to raise his voice. No, they can’t talk about it, because it’s three am and it’s Yixing’s time to sleep and forget. He hears footsteps and the door on the other end of the dorm close shut softly, Minseok and Zitao’s room.
Yixing turns around to peer at Lu Han, arm stretched out across his forehead. “What’s that on your neck?” he asks.
Lu Han bristles and pulls the collar of his shirt up, “It’s a mosquito bite,” he snaps, so affronted that Yixing knows he’s being honest. For once. “For God’s sake Yixing, I’m not depraved.”
“Hey,” Yixing shrugs, “we all have needs. Wasn’t suggesting you were--”
“Yixing? Seriously, what is your brain? I’m tempted to kill you just for the sake of an autopsy so the mystery will be solved.”
Yixing blinks, and there’s Lu Han again, black hair, supple skin, looking at him with the default unimpressed face of affection he always has on around Yixing, this time with a tinge of apology. Yixing almost laughs at that, it’ll be years till Lu Han finally has something to apologise for. Somewhere down the road they won’t even be able to look each other in the eye anymore, and although Lu Han is reaching out to him right now, so willing to fix something unbeknownst to him, Yixing thinks, why bother?
“I have somewhere to go,” he tells Lu Han, brushing shoulders as he leaves through the door.
“Hey,” Minseok sits down across from him, carrying a red lunchbox Yixing has come to recognise as the “junk box”. Minseok sometimes steals away snacks and pleasantries in it when his mother refuses to nourish him with anything with more than one hundred calories. Yixing only knows this because Kris and Chanyeol like to steal little bits of food out of it when they’re desperate.
Yixing doesn’t tell him this though, “Hey Hyung,” he responds, pushing away the awkwardness stemming from foreboding events. “What’s that?” he beckons to the red lunchbox with faux curiousity.
Minseok’s smile is about one hundred watts, and perhaps this is why he’s so short, all his energy goes into his crooked grin. Yixing looks him up and down subtly, he’s not particularly good looking, if he was to be honest. Stout, face much too round, eyes too narrow, strange nose, teeth like a piranhas, mouth bent into an awkward shape when he smiles. Yixing doesn’t think much of himself personally either, he’s too skinny, too lanky, too spacey, but he can’t really understand why Lu Han would allegedly move from one second-rate to another.
Minseok opens his lunch box gleefully, “I brought fortune cookies!” He exclaims, pushing the box towards Yixing.
And, that’s probably why.
Yixing takes one crescent shaped biscuit between his fingers, playing with it until-- “Wait, did Lu Han ask you to come see me?” he asks.
Minseok looks up at him, biting into his fortune cookie. “No,” he answers honestly before swallowing, “Kris did.”
Yixing takes a few seconds to absorb everything and decides that tomorrow he shall throw himself off the company roof.
“Well, I sure hope so,” Minseok laughs.
“What?” Yixing asks, taking a minute to focus on something apart from his own self-pity.
Minseok smiles and hands a thin piece of paper over to Yixing.
Happiness comes after much heartbreak, of yours and others. Keep the faith.
“Keep your fingers crossed for me, okay,” Minseok tells him. “My fortunes are usually depressingly on point, in an ambiguous way. This is the most positive one I’ve gotten since I was fifteen.”
Yixing stares at the small text for a little while longer before nodding and biting into his own cookie, poking his index finger around the chink for his alleged fortune. He pulls out a thin scroll of paper and unravels it.
He apologises to Lu Han by waiting outside of his University with a bouquet of flowers.
“Who are you trying to be?” Lu Han asks, taking the gift. “Please tell me you also have a barf bag on you as well.”
“Sorry Princess,” he smirks, linking arms with Lu Han as they make their way to the subway. Maybe one day they’ll only be able to walk with three metres between them at all times, maybe somewhere down the line Lu Han will finally break his heart. But Yixing can wait, he can wait forever. He’ll endure the downs, but he’ll cherish every single up they have together as well.
“You know, you’re extra needy today, what are you doing?” Lu Han teases, playfully tugging Yixing’s arm away.
Yixing pushes Lu Han in revenge, smiling when the latter almost trips over his own feet. “I don’t know, just feeling sorta clingy,” he responds, burying his hand into his pocket, fingers wrapping around a thin piece of paper.
Savour the now.
Yixing looks up at the singular star in the sky, twinkling and real, but miniscule and almost insignificant. In retrospect Yixing prefers the glow in the dark stickers he had stuck up on his ceiling back when he was a trainee, centuries ago.
Someone lies down next to him, and Yixing closes his eyes. “Hey Gege,” he greets.
“Hey there,” Lu Han responds, staring up into space, “what are you doing?”
“Stargazing,” Yixing says abruptly, stretching his neck taut, the back of his head rubbing against the gravel along the roof.
“That would be so romantic if Beijing didn’t have insane light pollution and if that wasn’t a helicopter,” Lu Han stifles a laugh.
“What?” Yixing cracks open one eye, and sure enough, his lonely star begins flickering. Red. It makes it’s away slowly across the dirty blue night, into the soaring lights of the city. Yixing turns to glare at Lu Han. “Thanks for that,” he scowls.
“No matter what I said it was never going to be a star, no matter how hard you wanted it to be,” Lu Han refutes. Yixing scoffs and returns to staring up at the now starless expanse of sky, almost falling asleep until Lu Han kicks his leg and causes him to jolt upright.
“What was that for?” he growls.
“Man, that was such a perfect analogy and you didn’t even acknowledge it,” Lu Han frowns, “I’m a little bit offended.”
“What?” Yixing squints, until the information finally settles in three seconds later. “Oh!” he exclaims, “you’re the star....”
“Yes.” Lu Han nods, “Well, technically, I’m the helicopter, but--”
“Well then, be on your merry helicopter way please.” Yixing falls back onto the cold, hard roof, resting an arm over his eyes.
“Yixing,” Lu Han whines, attempting to drag the younger boy’s limb away from his face. Yixing isn’t in the mood for fighting, the acidic Beijing air and the anxiety from simply being in Lu Han’s general vicinity gives him too much stress as is.
Yixing sighs, exhausted, “What are you doing?” he asks.
“That’s not the point,” Lu Han sighs. “Yixing, obviously poetic metaphors are too intellectual for you, so I shall put it in black and white. You are my best friend. I love you. Dignity minus one hundred. Appreciate it.”
“What about Minseok?” Yixing questions.
Lu Han shrugs, “I love him too. But you’re the best friend. I’d appreciate it if you two got along, you know.”
“We actually do get along, we got Pizza together yesterday, it was fun,” Yixing retorts.
Lu Han grimaces, “Yeah, I saw that. It was sort of weird, actually.”
“Never pleased,” Yixing murmurs, and Lu Han snickers. There’s a beat of silence, and Yixing relaxes into Lu Han’s touch, eyes fluttering shut at the way Lu Han’s finger run gently through his hair.
“I missed you, Yixing,” Lu Han murmurs.
Yixing nods, “Mmm.”
“Yixing...”
“Yixing!” Kris whispers harshly.
Yixing blinks, looking around the enclosed space and having a mini panic attack when his eyes find the camera. “Uh...” he stares down into the microphone, unsure of what to say. What did the interviewer even ask again?
He does what he does best. Yixing looks to his side and passes the mic back to Kris, whose fists twitch and Yixing can tell he’s suppressing a strong urge to punch him in the face. Lu Han rubs a comforting hand on Yixing’s thigh, and although he can’t see it, he imagines that familiarly encouraging smile and calms down, tuning out Kris’ redundant babble.
They’ve only just debuted, anyway. He still has all the time in the world to fix himself.
a/n: first of all, i am so sorry for all the grammar/spelling booboos scattered through this, i finished this up at 1:52am ;__; secondly, something happened to my m-dashes and this makes me sad, do not screw around with my m-dashses, lj >:( okay, this was not meant to surpass two thousand words, let alone become a 5k monster. and for those of you who guessed -- the prompt for this was actually the song 'call me maybe' by carly rae jepson. never underestimate the power of bubblegum pop. ever. again. also, yes, i fail, but i couldn't bare to give yixing a non-happy ending. and i'm shamelessly biased for minseok. lu han is pretty. and layhan and xiuhan are so. frikking. adorable.
lay/luhan/xiumin
pg-13, romance, drama, supernatural-ish, 5225 words
Yixing sees his future with Lu Han end before it even begins.
(i don't know how this managed to surpass 5k, please shoot me. also, guess the prompt which made me write this.)
When Lu Han first meets Yixing and their fingers brush, the lights flicker overhead, once, twice, before there’s a blackout. Curses are spewed along the hallways, thuds and clunks echoing as people trip over air, suddenly finding themselves statis halfway through an awkward dance move, singing along to a soundless void, pressed up against each other illicitly in the dark.
“What an ominous acquaintance,” Lu Han murmurs, and Yixing squeezes his hand just a bit tighter.
Later in the cafeteria, Chanyeol slides up next to Yixing, introduces himself quickly to Lu Han, and scans the room curiously before furrowing his eyebrows. “Hey, where’s Minseok?” he asks, chewing on a limp portion of lettuce.
Yixing bites down on a baby tomato, the sour juice squirts and burns the inside of his cheek.
“Who’s Minseok?” Lu Han leans side ways to whisper into his ear. Yixing shrugs, and swallows the rest of the tomato in one go. He knows Minseok, but not enough to warrant the right to be able to inform a fresh mind about him.
“He’s in the hospital,” Kris answers, “tripped and broke his leg during the blackout.”
Chanyeol laughs and bites down onto his fist, “Why do I find this so hilarious? I need to stop being so gleeful at everyone else’s pain,” he snorts, twirling two chopsticks around his fingers. He looks up at the curious expression etched across Lu Han’s face and laughs again, “I haven’t slept in two days, I’m not usually like this,” he assures.
“Riiiight,” Kris stretches the word, patting Chanyeol on the shoulder.
Minseok comes back from the hospital the next day at 3:40pm, and ends up in the company’s sick bay at 4pm. Kris stands at the edge of his bed, with Yixing standing next to him out of obligation and due to their arm of mutual friends.
“I’m sorry man, I swear I had no idea you were allergic,” Kris rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and Yixing savours the rare moment for a bit.
Minseok sighs, shifting his elevated leg slightly and moving up the pillow. “It’s alright, maybe some people were never meant to be good people,” he jokes, voice small and raw, as if it hurt to speak. “Anyway, tell Jino I’m not going to be able to make practice today, please,” he requests, smiling good naturedly.
“Urgh,” Kris rubs a hand down his face, “seriously, I’m sorry. Fucking Chanyeol, he--”
“Kris, seriously,” Minseok interrupts, “It. Is. Fine.” he enunciates. “You should get to practice, you too Yixing, and you too.... curious person I have never met before,” Minseok lifts himself up on his elbows and squints, “hey?”
Lu Han moves from behind Yixing and smacks his lips together, clearly flustered. “Sorry, I’m Lu Han, I um, I’m new.”
“Oh,” Minseok says, “well, I hope you like it here.”
And that’s the end of their awkward first meeting. Nothing breaks, no breeze flits through the open window, the fat lady doesn’t sing, and Lu Han and Yixing walk back to the practice room side by side.
“He’s cute,” Lu Han says after a few minutes.
“Hm?” Yixing asks.
Lu Han turns his head towards him, “Minseok,” he clarifies.
“Ah, alright,” Yixing hums a short tune under his breath, but it catches in his throat. “Wait,” he looks back to Lu Han, blinking, “do you?”
Lu Han raises an eyebrow, “Do I what?”
Yixing’s mouth feels dry, tongue parched, not enough moisture to form coherent words, not enough energy to understand what he was asking, “Do you like--?” he tries again.
“Do I what?” Lu Han asks, “Yixing?”
They’ve stopped walking, and they’re both staring at eachother under the dull fluorescent lights of the hallway.
“Yixing?” Lu Han asks again.
Why does it even matter so much?
“Yixing! Yixing! YIXIIIIIING!” Chanyeol hollers, whacking the back of Yixing’s head.
Yixing looks up, the remnants of a half-eaten tomato still warm on his tongue, “Huh?” he asks, looking around. The cafeteria was bustling, the special of the day -- garden salad -- was advertised on a lime green piece of cardboard stuck to the side of the entrance.
“Are you okay?” Lu Han asks, prodding Yixing on the shoulder, “it looked like you spaced out there for a second.”
Yixing opens his mouth, “Uh...”
“Well, it’s nice to see Yixing has yet again reached a new level of four dimensionality, but what were you saying?” Kris turns to Chanyeol after giving Yixing a skeptical, but concerned, look.
“Oh right,” Chanyeol snaps his head towards Kris, “I’m going to gather some money from Jino and the rest, and we can buy Minseok a bouquet. You have to give it to him tomorrow, I have some showcase to attend,” he explains, stealing a portion of Yixing’s salad when he thinks he’s not looking. Yixing notices, but his mind is too stuck in the past -- or the future, he guesses -- to really call him out on his transgression.
The next day plays out differently than what he expects, but Lu Han meets Minseok, and as they’re walking back to the practice room together, Yixing still has that question on the tip of his tongue, which -- he realises later whilst looking up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling of his room that night -- is really all that mattered.
“I’m going to die from exhaustion,” Lu Han complains, resting his head in between his knees, arms wrapped uselessly around his legs. Yixing’s stamina is impressive, and after years of practice he isn’t nearly as enervated as Lu Han is, but he slides down next to him on the wall and rests his head back anyway.
“It gets easier,” he assures, passing Lu Han a water bottle.
Lu Han takes one long and withdrawn gulp, before passing it back to Yixing. He pushes his sweaty bangs away from his forehead and looks up the stairs. The lights from the performance seep through the parting of the door -- pink, blue, and yellow playing across Lu Han’s face, dancing in the empty void of his eyes.
“You know, sometimes I don’t know how I’d get by without you,” Lu Han says, smiling bitterly. Yixing reaches out and takes Lu Han’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. Lu Han squeezes back before sighing and disentangling their digits.
“It gets easier,” Yixing promises, wrapping an arm around Lu Han’s waist.
“I think we’ve filled our sentimentality quota for the month or something,” Lu Han laughs, turning around and burying his face into Yixing’s neck. He inhales, and recognises the distinct smell of smoke and the woody scent of some high-priced cologne he never remembers Lu Han purchasing. It gets his blood boiling at an uncomfortable temperature, and he eases into Lu Han’s touch a bit too compliantly, he’s almost suspicious of himself.
“Yixing!”
A cool liquid trickles down Yixing’s face and he sputters before wiping his eyes and blinking up at Lu Han. “What?” he asks, a bit more forcefully than what was needed. Lu Han knelt in front of him in the practice room, his grey shirt stained with patches of sweat.
“You spaced out again. Seriously, either you’re an unearthed genius, or just really airheaded, I’m sort of leaning towards the latter,” Lu Han teases, ruffling Yixing’s damp hair affectionately. Yixing expects his veins to heat up and his muscles to tense, instead there’s a small flutter in his stomach, but it’s scary enough.
“I’ve just met you...” Yixing murmurs to himself in mandarin, but Lu Han picks up on the words and laughs.
“Well, take it as a compliment, you make people feel easy,” Lu Han grins, and his smile is bright and lustrous and Yixing thinks he could get used to seeing it everyday for the rest of his life.
“I think I’m going to fall in love with him,” Yixing tells Jongin a week later, as they lay in their singlets sprawled against the cool, dewy grass. Another late night of practice, and amongst the pounding of beats and the easy movements of their limbs, it’s 5am before either of them notice.
“Who?” Jongin questions sleepily, eyelids struggling to remain open. Yixing doesn’t mind though, he knows Jongin isn’t going to remember in the morning, but that’s why he discloses everything to him at the peak of dawn when they’re both muggy and deadbeat. He supposes he should be a better Hyung, but one learns to live for himself about six months after being separated from their roots.
“Lu Han.” Yixing answers, squinting at the orange glow slowly spilling over the horizon. He intakes the sharp morning air and lifts up his hands, wiggling his fingers against the glaucous sky. “I’m going to fall in love with him,” the words sound easier and less insane when uttered in daybreak.
“Didn’t he just join like, three weeks ago,” Jongin grumbles, rolling to the side and letting the wet blades of grass tickle his cheek.
“I don’t love him now. But I’m going to. I don’t know when though.” Yixing explains, though it does nothing to make his reasoning sound rational, “Crazy, huh?”
The chirping of birds begin from the tree a little away from them, and a splash of red and yellow fuse with the orange swimming across Seoul’s skyline. Jongin’s snores waft from beside him, and Yixing sighs before sitting up and wrapping one of Jongin’s arms around his neck, struggling to lift him upright. Unlike Yixing, Jongin had somewhere to go home to.
“Are you sure you should be walking around, Hyung?” Sehun asks, scooting over to make room for Minseok, who lifts his cast up and over the chair with much difficulty.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” Minseok replies, prying open his lunchbox and emitting a disappointed moan at the contents inside. “Ah well, should have figured,” he frowns and probes the tofu salad in front of him with a single chopstick, grimacing when he puts it in his mouth and begins chewing. He meets Sehun’s pitiful expression and forces a smile, giving him a thumbs up. “Delicious,” he says through a mouthful.
“Um, do you want some of my beef?” Lu Han offers his chopstick with the saucy delectable hanging off the edge. Minseok looks at it longingly before coming back to his senses and clearing his throat, looking down at his miserable tofu.
“No, no, I don’t like meat,” Minseok assures, “but thanks anyway... Lu... Han?” he tries, and grins when Lu Han nods in approval.
Yixing eyes the exchange and turns back to his meal of ddeokbokki before noticing the smile on Minseok’s face. Lu Han wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer towards him, whispering into his ear with a cheeky grin quirking at the side of his lips. The fans below them cheer and it eggs Minseok on, he raises two small fingers and beckons towards Lu Han, who completes him with a heart. They blow it at the fans, bowing with their arms around each other. Yixing watches from two seats down, a knot in his chest tightening.
Later that night, Yixing sleeps with his back turned to Lu Han. The lamp between their beds glowing dimly, casting a buttery hue on the walls.
“Are you mad at me?” Lu Han murmurs from his side of the room, shifting to face Yixing’s stiff spine.
Yixing buries himself deeper into his pillow. “No,” he states.
There’s rustling and some light footsteps, and Yixing feels a warmth on his shoulder. He presses his eyes shut tight, willing his blood to simmer down. This was so inappropriate.
“Why not?” Lu Han asks. He’s too close, his voice comes at an inappropriate angle, wisping inappropriately against the shell of his ear, and when Yixing turns his head in a half-daze, Lu Han is leaning down at an entirely inappropriate speed.
“That looks nice,” Sehun says, and Yixing jumps. Lu Han grins and leans forward, feeding Sehun the beef pressed between his chopsticks. Yixing bites his lip and stands up from the table.
“I’m going to go and try to catch some extra-practice,” Yixing says.
Lu Han looks up at him, “Um, okay, see you later?”
When he reaches the bathroom he runs the tap until it’s stuck and splashes his face with the startlingly cold water. He stands there, neck bent, fringe dripping into the white basin morosely for ten minutes, before resting his wet forehead on the cold mirror in front of him, breathing heavily.
The door creaks open and Minseok steps in, “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, staring at Yixing’s currently drenched state.
Yixing nods against the mirror, exhaling and fogging up his reflection.
“Are you sure? You left abruptly, and kind of randomly too,” Minseok worries his lip between his teeth and waits for a response.
“Yeah, just felt a little sick,” Yixing replies, bending down towards the sink, the dirt from his pores slowly swirling down the basin.
“Ah, understandable,” Minseok smiles, and then brings out a familiar lunchbox from behind his back and discards it into the bin. Yixing looks at the many full and wasted cubes of tofu lying in a heap amongst the actual litter.
“Do you hate tofu that much?” Yixing asks. He doesn’t really care, but he feels obligated to show concern.
Minseok shrugs, “Not really, but I can’t eat anymore. I have to make sure to watch my weight if I want to debut,” he explains.
Yixing rips off a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser and dries his face and hands with it, scratching the coarse surface against his skin thoroughly before throwing it in the trash. “You’re going to debut,” Yixing says walking past Minseok towards the exit.
Minseok turns around, “You can’t be too sure, I mean... Junmyeon...” he trails off.
Yes you can. “You’re going to debut, but not if you starve yourself,” Yixing tries again before closing the bathroom door behind him.
“It’s such a sunny day!” Lu Han exclaims, exaggeratedly and obnoxiously. Yixing looks up at him from the floor, putting down the mixed CDs he was currently skimming through.
“How would you know? You’re inside,” he deadpans, thinning his lips.
Lu Han snorts and bends down, grabbing Yixing’s hands with his own, shaking them excitedly. “Come on Yixing, let’s go out for a bit, please,” he pleads. Lu Han’s hands are warm and eager against Yixing’s clammy and calloused ones, but Yixing pulls away and wipes them down the length of his jeans.
“We should practice a bit more, Gege,” he responds, picking up the CDs and resuming his scanning
Lu Han groans and stands upright, “Buzzkill,” he murmurs, frowning when Yixing merely shrugs and goes to turn on the CD player. “Hey, I’m going to the bathroom for a bit okay?” he says. Yixing nods, and listens to the sound of Lu Han’s sneakers scuffling across the wooden floor and the slam of the door when he leaves.
“Don’t worry, he’s just stressed,” Kris says, collecting the cards and shuffling them with quick fingers. Quicker than his dance moves, Yixing thinks bitterly.
There’s a thud and a crash from inside their shared bedroom, and Yixing winces when Kris drops the playing cards, splaying them randomly all over the floor.
“Maybe someone should go check on him?” Jongdae asks, eyes travelling to Yixing of their own accord. Yixing’s shoulders stiffen and he plays with a loose strand of fibre protruding from the carpet. There’s a tense silence until Minseok sighs and lifts himself up, their game off Cheat all but forgotten.
“I’ll go talk to him,” Minseok says, treading carefully over the fallen cards and moving his way tentatively to Yixing’s room.
Kris makes them all continue their game, to focus on the numbers and the lies across their faces instead of the restrained, but still much too loud voices permeating from the room behind them.
”You need to shut the fuck up, no one expects anything of you.”
”You’re the only one who expects anything of yourself, you know that right?”
“Two Queens,” Jongdae puts down two cards in the middle.
”Stop feeling sorry for yourself all the time, you’re turning everyone into a fucking enemy.”
”Honestly, I’m not sure who the fuck you even are anymore, but I don’t care any less.”
Kris puts down three cards, “Three Kings,” he says.
“Cheat,” Yixing refutes. Kris swears and adds the pile from the floor into his own hands. Tao sifts through his own deck, pursing his lips, seemingly in thought.
”I’m sorry you’re such a fucking martyr, but no one asked you to be.”
“Two Sevens.”
”I’m not even sure how any of it is your business, Minseok. Since when do you care about anything that doesn’t involve calories?"
”That was a low blow, but I can pretend you didn’t mean it.”
Yixing looks through his cards, he has a vast array of choices, the Gods were with him in this round. He picks out the only two cards not bent at the edges.
“Two Eights,” he lies.
”If you’re going to go and dig at my self esteem I’d appreciate it if you’d at least fucking look at me. God, all I do is care about--”
Yixing swallows. Jongdae looks at him pointedly and opens his mouth, but hesitates and instead puts down his play.
“One Nine.”
They go through four revolutions without anyone being called out for cheating -- and it’s a bit ridiculous, and maybe their senses are simply dull today. The door behind them opens and Lu Han steps out of the room, skin tight and pale. Minseok shuffles behind him, fidgeting with his hands.
“I’m going to get some water,” Lu Han says, his voice is quiet and he walks calmly to the kitchen. Minseok sits down beside Jongdae on the floor, and there’s something like guilt in his eyes when he looks up.
“I’ll just watch for this round,” Minseok says.
Kris shakes his head. “No, it’s okay, we’ve already dealed for you, didn’t think you’d take so long,” he hands him a small deck, and Yixing doesn’t say anything, but he thinks it’s a little unfair.
Yixing looks through his cards before placing one down tentatively, “One King,” he enunciates slowly, lying through his teeth.
Minseok looks at him cautiously before going through his own -- unfairly thin -- hand. He bites the inside of his cheek before putting down his play. Lu Han returns with a glass of water, watching the game silently from where he was seated demurely on the sofa behind them.
“Two Aces,” Minseok says.
Yixing doesn’t waste his breath, “Cheat!” he exclaims.
Minseok raises an eyebrow and flips his cards over, ace of clubs and ace of hearts.
“Wow, Yixing gets the whole lot!” Jongdae marvels.
“What, that’s impossible--” he sifts through his hands for the corresponding cards, he has an ace of diamonds and an ace of spades, “I- I-” Yixing blinks rapidly, looking around the circle, “I counted wrong...” he trails off.
He hears Lu Han choke behind him.
Yixing runs through the company with more drive propelling him than all of his late night practice sessions combined, speeding through the halls and only narrowly turning the sharp corners. “Lu Han! Lu Han! Let’s go out!” he shouts, running into the male bathroom. All the stalls are empty, their doors swinging open lamely, forgotten. One of the new trainees, Kyungsoo, looks up at Yixing with wide eyes from the sink, razor in one hand, shaving cream in another.
“Hey, is something wrong?” he asks.
Yixing feels bad, but he runs away, bolting away from the bathroom and down the stairs. “Lu Han! Hey, Lu Han! Let’s go get some ice cream!” he hollers. His legs carry him to the back of the building, near the basketball courts, where the sun tended to shine extra bright.
“Lu Han! Lu Han! Lu--”
“That was so unfair! If I knew we were allowed to kick the ball into other people’s faces, it’d have been my tactic a long time ago!”
Yixing stops at the glass doors, voice dying on him.
Lu Han laughs and throws the ball at Minseok, who stops rubbing his forehead long enough to catch it before it hit the asphalt. “Okay, you can try and score now.” Lu Han says.
“I think you’re only doing this so you can bask in your superior athletic abilities, you don’t have to lie to me,” Minseok grumbles, walking behind the makeshift chalk boundary drawn across the court. He moves his foot back and angles it at an exact degree so it goes into the goal, or into Lu Han’s face, Yixing isn’t too sure.
Minseok looks up, ready to strike, but frowns. “Why are you smiling at me,” he murmurs self-consciously, rubbing at his forehead, “do I have something on my face?” he asks.
Lu Han grins bashfully, “You’re really cute~” he cooes.
Minseok blinks at him, baffled. “What?”
“Your cheeks, they’re so round,” Lu Han pulls at his own cheeks to demonstrate, “round and pale, like a steamed bun.”
Minseok looks like he’s at a loss for words, “Are you... are you calling me fat?” he asks. And Lu Han falls into a fit of laughter, leaning against the pole of the basketball net for support.
Yixing walks back inside.
“Are you avoiding me?” Lu Han asks, closing the door of the practice room behind him. Yixing stops halfway through his turn, skidding to a halt with a shrill squeak.
“Sorry Gege, I didn’t hear you come in,” Yixing reaches for the towel draped over the CD player, dabbing at his neck with the white cotton. Yes, he was avoiding Lu Han, but he had thought he had done it with some degree of stealth. From the way Lu Han was eyeing him accusingly, apparently he had thought wrong, and so it was time for plan B. Ignorance.
“My question. Are you ignoring me?” Lu Han repeats.
The timber between them looked to Yixing as if it stretched on for miles, rather than the few metres it actually did. “Why would you think that?” Yixing asks, not even trying to inject some kind of persuasion into his tone.
Lu Han shrugs, “Well it’s kind of obvious when you do, when you aren’t around me anymore. I mean, you are the closest person to me in this company.”
For now.
“I’m not avoiding you,” Yixing insists.
Lu Han narrows his eyes at him from behind dead blonde bangs, years of bleach and dye causing his hair to lose its life. “Can we talk about it?” Lu Han whispers, scared to raise his voice. No, they can’t talk about it, because it’s three am and it’s Yixing’s time to sleep and forget. He hears footsteps and the door on the other end of the dorm close shut softly, Minseok and Zitao’s room.
Yixing turns around to peer at Lu Han, arm stretched out across his forehead. “What’s that on your neck?” he asks.
Lu Han bristles and pulls the collar of his shirt up, “It’s a mosquito bite,” he snaps, so affronted that Yixing knows he’s being honest. For once. “For God’s sake Yixing, I’m not depraved.”
“Hey,” Yixing shrugs, “we all have needs. Wasn’t suggesting you were--”
“Yixing? Seriously, what is your brain? I’m tempted to kill you just for the sake of an autopsy so the mystery will be solved.”
Yixing blinks, and there’s Lu Han again, black hair, supple skin, looking at him with the default unimpressed face of affection he always has on around Yixing, this time with a tinge of apology. Yixing almost laughs at that, it’ll be years till Lu Han finally has something to apologise for. Somewhere down the road they won’t even be able to look each other in the eye anymore, and although Lu Han is reaching out to him right now, so willing to fix something unbeknownst to him, Yixing thinks, why bother?
“I have somewhere to go,” he tells Lu Han, brushing shoulders as he leaves through the door.
“Hey,” Minseok sits down across from him, carrying a red lunchbox Yixing has come to recognise as the “junk box”. Minseok sometimes steals away snacks and pleasantries in it when his mother refuses to nourish him with anything with more than one hundred calories. Yixing only knows this because Kris and Chanyeol like to steal little bits of food out of it when they’re desperate.
Yixing doesn’t tell him this though, “Hey Hyung,” he responds, pushing away the awkwardness stemming from foreboding events. “What’s that?” he beckons to the red lunchbox with faux curiousity.
Minseok’s smile is about one hundred watts, and perhaps this is why he’s so short, all his energy goes into his crooked grin. Yixing looks him up and down subtly, he’s not particularly good looking, if he was to be honest. Stout, face much too round, eyes too narrow, strange nose, teeth like a piranhas, mouth bent into an awkward shape when he smiles. Yixing doesn’t think much of himself personally either, he’s too skinny, too lanky, too spacey, but he can’t really understand why Lu Han would allegedly move from one second-rate to another.
Minseok opens his lunch box gleefully, “I brought fortune cookies!” He exclaims, pushing the box towards Yixing.
And, that’s probably why.
Yixing takes one crescent shaped biscuit between his fingers, playing with it until-- “Wait, did Lu Han ask you to come see me?” he asks.
Minseok looks up at him, biting into his fortune cookie. “No,” he answers honestly before swallowing, “Kris did.”
Yixing takes a few seconds to absorb everything and decides that tomorrow he shall throw himself off the company roof.
“Well, I sure hope so,” Minseok laughs.
“What?” Yixing asks, taking a minute to focus on something apart from his own self-pity.
Minseok smiles and hands a thin piece of paper over to Yixing.
Happiness comes after much heartbreak, of yours and others. Keep the faith.
“Keep your fingers crossed for me, okay,” Minseok tells him. “My fortunes are usually depressingly on point, in an ambiguous way. This is the most positive one I’ve gotten since I was fifteen.”
Yixing stares at the small text for a little while longer before nodding and biting into his own cookie, poking his index finger around the chink for his alleged fortune. He pulls out a thin scroll of paper and unravels it.
He apologises to Lu Han by waiting outside of his University with a bouquet of flowers.
“Who are you trying to be?” Lu Han asks, taking the gift. “Please tell me you also have a barf bag on you as well.”
“Sorry Princess,” he smirks, linking arms with Lu Han as they make their way to the subway. Maybe one day they’ll only be able to walk with three metres between them at all times, maybe somewhere down the line Lu Han will finally break his heart. But Yixing can wait, he can wait forever. He’ll endure the downs, but he’ll cherish every single up they have together as well.
“You know, you’re extra needy today, what are you doing?” Lu Han teases, playfully tugging Yixing’s arm away.
Yixing pushes Lu Han in revenge, smiling when the latter almost trips over his own feet. “I don’t know, just feeling sorta clingy,” he responds, burying his hand into his pocket, fingers wrapping around a thin piece of paper.
Savour the now.
Yixing looks up at the singular star in the sky, twinkling and real, but miniscule and almost insignificant. In retrospect Yixing prefers the glow in the dark stickers he had stuck up on his ceiling back when he was a trainee, centuries ago.
Someone lies down next to him, and Yixing closes his eyes. “Hey Gege,” he greets.
“Hey there,” Lu Han responds, staring up into space, “what are you doing?”
“Stargazing,” Yixing says abruptly, stretching his neck taut, the back of his head rubbing against the gravel along the roof.
“That would be so romantic if Beijing didn’t have insane light pollution and if that wasn’t a helicopter,” Lu Han stifles a laugh.
“What?” Yixing cracks open one eye, and sure enough, his lonely star begins flickering. Red. It makes it’s away slowly across the dirty blue night, into the soaring lights of the city. Yixing turns to glare at Lu Han. “Thanks for that,” he scowls.
“No matter what I said it was never going to be a star, no matter how hard you wanted it to be,” Lu Han refutes. Yixing scoffs and returns to staring up at the now starless expanse of sky, almost falling asleep until Lu Han kicks his leg and causes him to jolt upright.
“What was that for?” he growls.
“Man, that was such a perfect analogy and you didn’t even acknowledge it,” Lu Han frowns, “I’m a little bit offended.”
“What?” Yixing squints, until the information finally settles in three seconds later. “Oh!” he exclaims, “you’re the star....”
“Yes.” Lu Han nods, “Well, technically, I’m the helicopter, but--”
“Well then, be on your merry helicopter way please.” Yixing falls back onto the cold, hard roof, resting an arm over his eyes.
“Yixing,” Lu Han whines, attempting to drag the younger boy’s limb away from his face. Yixing isn’t in the mood for fighting, the acidic Beijing air and the anxiety from simply being in Lu Han’s general vicinity gives him too much stress as is.
Yixing sighs, exhausted, “What are you doing?” he asks.
“That’s not the point,” Lu Han sighs. “Yixing, obviously poetic metaphors are too intellectual for you, so I shall put it in black and white. You are my best friend. I love you. Dignity minus one hundred. Appreciate it.”
“What about Minseok?” Yixing questions.
Lu Han shrugs, “I love him too. But you’re the best friend. I’d appreciate it if you two got along, you know.”
“We actually do get along, we got Pizza together yesterday, it was fun,” Yixing retorts.
Lu Han grimaces, “Yeah, I saw that. It was sort of weird, actually.”
“Never pleased,” Yixing murmurs, and Lu Han snickers. There’s a beat of silence, and Yixing relaxes into Lu Han’s touch, eyes fluttering shut at the way Lu Han’s finger run gently through his hair.
“I missed you, Yixing,” Lu Han murmurs.
Yixing nods, “Mmm.”
“Yixing...”
“Yixing!” Kris whispers harshly.
Yixing blinks, looking around the enclosed space and having a mini panic attack when his eyes find the camera. “Uh...” he stares down into the microphone, unsure of what to say. What did the interviewer even ask again?
He does what he does best. Yixing looks to his side and passes the mic back to Kris, whose fists twitch and Yixing can tell he’s suppressing a strong urge to punch him in the face. Lu Han rubs a comforting hand on Yixing’s thigh, and although he can’t see it, he imagines that familiarly encouraging smile and calms down, tuning out Kris’ redundant babble.
They’ve only just debuted, anyway. He still has all the time in the world to fix himself.
a/n: first of all, i am so sorry for all the grammar/spelling booboos scattered through this, i finished this up at 1:52am ;__; secondly, something happened to my m-dashes and this makes me sad, do not screw around with my m-dashses, lj >:( okay, this was not meant to surpass two thousand words, let alone become a 5k monster. and for those of you who guessed -- the prompt for this was actually the song 'call me maybe' by carly rae jepson. never underestimate the power of bubblegum pop. ever. again. also, yes, i fail, but i couldn't bare to give yixing a non-happy ending. and i'm shamelessly biased for minseok. lu han is pretty. and layhan and xiuhan are so. frikking. adorable.