metaphorically speaking
title: metaphorically speaking
pairing: luhan x yixing
genre: domestic/post-college au
rating: r
length: ~6800w
summary: the real world is hard, but luhan makes sure yixing doesn't have to go it alone.
yixing is like stone: solid, secure. he’s a pillar, a constant symbol of strength and stability. luhan is like water: free, flowing, able to fill every crack and crevice yixing has, right into his very bones. but luhan also weathers yixing, breaks him down, erodes him until he’s the smallest grain of sand, and luhan can do nothing but apologize even though yixing doesn’t seem to mind, because even at the bottom of the ocean, the water will always meet the sand.
they’re two forces of nature: strong individually, seeming to work against each other but still naturally coming together.
luhan tells yixing this one night, while on a skype call that’s lasted six hours, but all yixing’s been doing is working on his masters thesis and luhan’s been talking his ear off because he’s having an inconvenient insomnia spell the night he has a portfolio due and a meeting with the editor in chief in the morning. it’s the first time yixing’s even looked up from his notes and his books for the past two hours.
“xiaolu,” he says plainly, because between them there’s no need for the rigid honorifics they learned as kids and also because everyone always assumes luhan is younger anyway.
“ah, now i remember what your face looks like.” luhan’s comment is unnecessary, asinine, and it’s brushed off like a speck of dust.
“that’s the gayest thing i think i’ve ever heard you say.”
“hey, fuck you!”
the words fall off luhan’s lips easy, without a hint of malice, and before he can even stop himself, his empty apartment is echoing with his own laughter, and he’s awoken yixing’s dorm mate-he can tell because he can hear the complaints, faint but clear. yixing’s trying to stay quiet as his shoulders shake, a hand clasped over his mouth and luhan thinks yixing might have the most beautiful laugh in the world even though he can only see half of it. but the eyes are enough, he thinks, in the way they curve into crescent moon shapes and twinkle in the light of his laptop.
“you should sleep soon,” yixing says once his laughter dies down to only a faint chuckle, which is lost in the ups and downs of his tone.
“you first.” and even though luhan protests, a yawn surfaces, leaving his mouth in an unattractive stretch of body and soul that brings about a look of amusement on the other boy’s face. “yeah, okay,” luhan speaks hurriedly before yixing can retort. “don’t stay up too late, okay?”
“i’m almost done,” yixing says, gaze disappearing once more in favor of his books and his notes and his nearly completed thesis.
“xing.”
no response.
“i love you.”
and even though yixing’s gaze doesn’t wander from the body of words printed on the pages of his music theory textbook, all the response luhan needs is clear in the way the corners of yixing’s lips curve upward in just the slightest manner and the way his highlighter stops gliding across the page. “good night, lu han.”
“good night, zhang yixing.”
and with perfect timing, as usual, just as luhan is about to exit out of the skype program, yixing adds without looking up, “i love you, too.”
luhan sleeps like a baby that night and nearly misses his meeting in the morning.
yixing is intoxicating, irresistible; his scent is heady and the feeling of his flushed skin pressed against luhan’s own on an uncharacteristically muggy afternoon in los angeles is a rush luhan can’t get anywhere else. yixing is a powerful drug, and luhan an addict, willing to do anything to get his fix with no intention of ever getting clean.
if luhan could have it his way, he’d stay in bed with yixing for the rest of the day, buried under dirty sheets and ridiculously fluffy pillows, their legs entangled in each other, but yixing’s always hated the heat, and he’s graduating in two hours, so he should probably shower.
but luhan’s stubborn as he rolls onto his side, tightening his legs around yixing’s and throwing his arm around the other’s torso as he buries his face into the nape of yixing’s neck, inhaling his scent as he smiles into his skin, softly humming a vaguely familiar tune. “let’s never get out of bed,” he says frivolously, knowing full well that they’d both have to get up soon to start getting ready for the ceremony.
“mm,” yixing responds in agreement, throwing luhan off enough for him to pull back and search the younger male’s face.
“you’re graduating in two hours,” luhan reminds him, thumb tracing circles along the bare skin of yixing’s back. he’s given a response in the form of incoherent mumbles and luhan pulls back even further, observing yixing’s face and the way his eyebrows pull together and his lips pout unintentionally. “you don’t want to go?”
“graduations are bullshit anyway,” yixing murmurs, pulling luhan back in closer to him.
luhan frowns, but obliges to the tug, nestling back into the home he’s made under yixing’s arm and on his chest. “they’re not bullshit. you were so excited when we graduated with our bachelor’s degree. why the sudden change of heart?”
yixing shrugs, and luhan can feel him rest his chin atop his. “i guess that’s just it. i’ve already done it. it feels like it’ll just be a repeat if i do it again, like it’ll cancel out the first time i did it.”
luhan says nothing for a few moments; there’s not much he can say when he didn’t even bother going back to school for his master’s, whereas yixing had been the one to continue his education. he feels yixing’s chest rise and fall with a long sigh, and luhan’s forefinger traces a path from yixing’s navel up to his chest where he presses it into the groove where his chest meets his diaphragm. “it’s special to me,” he says finally, lifting his head so he can meet eyes with yixing.
he’s answered with a soft smile and fingers running through his hair. “if it’s important for you to see me walking the stage so you can snap pictures you’ll never develop, then we’ll go,” yixing says softly.
“i’ll develop them!” luhan insists with a frown, eyebrows furrowing together in disagreement. “and i’ll frame them, too!”
yixing laughs, and luhan can feel the vibrations coming from within his chest, and can’t help but laugh along, if only at the way his own head rises and falls with the movements. “good luck finding one that isn’t blurry.”
“asshole,” luhan murmurs, sitting up in defiance only to be pulled back down by strong arms, though they needn’t be, because any motion of yixing wanting him, needing him, is enough for luhan to be reeled back in.
“we’ll go,” yixing says, wrapping his arms and legs around him so that luhan can hardly move. “we’ll go and then we’ll develop the photos and i can put all your ugly, blurry photos on my nightstand.”
luhan looks up at him, attempting a disdainful look only to end up mirroring yixing’s contagious smile. “next to the one of us in palm springs?” luhan asks hopefully.
“right between that one, and the one of us in big bear,” yixing confirms.
with a grin, luhan turns, wrapping his arm once again around yixing’s torso as he rests his forehead to yixing’s chest. “one day, it’ll be our nightstand,” he murmurs under his breath, and again he can feel yixing’s chest come to life with laughter.
“yes,” yixing agrees, holding luhan tighter. “some day.”
luhan has always heard people say that penguins mate for life, and that’s what he felt like he was doing when he first asked yixing to move in with him. his apartment is small and cramped because the rent for an apartment in west la is exorbitant and luhan’s job pays barely enough for rent and food, but luhan doesn’t mind sharing such a small space with yixing because, yes, yixing is his mate for life.
luhan’s also heard that penguins share in care of the household and of the offspring, and a penguin’s what he feels like when he stops by the pet store after work and brings home a goldfish with big, bulging eyes, almost identical with all the other goldfish in its tank. as soon as he walks in the room with the small container and the swimming fish, yixing eyes him from the couch where he’s sending out resumes on his laptop.
“xiaolu, what is that?”
“it’s our baby.”
yixing is obviously holding back a laugh, poorly disguising his scoff as he clears his throat and shuts his laptop. “our baby,” he repeats, more a statement than a question or request for clarification.
luhan beams, nodding his head as he removes his shoes at the doorway before shuffling into the living room, placing the goldfish and its home onto the coffee table as he kneels in front of it. “his name’s wang leehom.”
“you named our son after a chinese actor?” yixing asks, eyebrow raised as he peers into the container. “i’m surprised you didn’t name him luhan the second or something.” he lifts a finger, tapping lightly on the plastic. the goldfish swiftly swims away from the source of sound, frightened.
“don’t do that!” luhan whines, swiping the small tank off the coffee table and out of yixing’s reach. “he doesn’t like it when you do that.”
this time, yixing makes no effort to disguise his laughter as it billows from his mouth, all dimples and boyish charm as his eyes disappear behind two crescent shapes. luhan is almost tempted to let his annoyance simmer because yixing’s laughter and smile are his favorite things, and yixing doesn’t know it, but all it takes to break luhan down is a flash of a smile and his stupid laugh. but luhan is nothing if not resilient, so he manages to keep himself together long enough to scold yixing again.
“you have to treat our son with respect.”
that seems to get yixing to calm down, though there’s still evidence of his laughter in his lingering smile. “okay,” yixing obliges, leaning forward to rest his chin on luhan’s shoulder, and luhan can feel the heat of yixing’s breath when he speaks again, sending a shiver down his spine. “now can you put him back on the table so i can get a good look at him?”
luhan gives yixing one last judging look before reluctantly placing the tank back on the wooded surface, allowing yixing the chance to peer into it and watch leehom swim around without a care in the world with its gravel and its bubbles and its companion in the form of a lone plastic seaweed.
“mm, han?” yixing says after a few moments of silence, a hint of uncertainty in his voice intermingled with a new found amusement.
“hm?” luhan asks absentmindedly, finding a strange sort of serenity in the way leehom’s fins weave through the water. he tears his eyes away to look up at yixing, head quirked to the side in curiosity. “what is it?”
“i think leehom’s a girl.”
“no, he’s not!” luhan snaps, turning his head quickly to peer into the tank again, eyes piercing into leehom’s soul. he’s a male; luhan’s sure of it-he can see it in the goldfish’s aura. “how can you even tell?”
“you see her protuding, er, asshole?”
even in all his confusion, luhan can’t help but burst out into laughter at yixing’s choice of words. “mm, i love it when you talk science, babe,” he murmurs teasingly, reaching out to tap the other male’s cheek fondly.
“shut up,” is all he gets in response, yixing’s eyes remaining fixated on their new housemate. “and she also has a thick, rounded body. i’m pretty sure leehom’s a girl.”
“she-he’s not!” luhan denies again, nudging yixing’s head off his shoulder as he picks leehom off the table and scoots away from the doubtful man. “he’s a manly male.”
luhan remains deliberately obtuse about the gender of their goldfish for two weeks, but in the end, it doesn’t matter anyway, because they forget to feed it, resulting in a tearful burial at sea (the toilet bowl).
“farewell, wang leehom the fish. we barely knew thee.”
it takes a few months for luhan’s man cave (as he insisted on everyone calling it) to turn from his space to their space. it starts with piles of yixing’s clothes and a new dresser and yixing’s toiletries scattered all across the bathroom sink, then progresses into yixing buying plants and framed photography and new sheets for the bed because “they don’t even match your drapes-and that isn’t a euphemism.’ slowly, luhan’s things become yixing’s, and vice versa, and there isn’t anything in the house anymore that belongs solely to either of them but each other’s hearts.
the couch is theirs, with the grooves luhan has worked into them from always sitting in the same spot eventually being massaged out from yixing always having to switch positions every half hour. the pantry is theirs, the inventory no longer limited to ramen and instant dinners because yixing can actually cook without burning the apartment down. the kitchen cabinets are filled with new kitchenware and pots and pans and his netflix account starts to recommend chinese romantic comedies and old black and white films.
then there’s the bedroom. luhan has always considered it his most personal space. it’s where he sleeps, thinks, dreams, jacks off, spends his time alone. there’s no quicker way to gain insight into his mind than to spend the night in his bed, and yixing’s done it countless times, on calm nights when the moon is so bright it illuminates the room as they sleep soundly in each other’s arms, and on nights like tonight, where luhan’s licking his lips and yixing is responding with coy smiles and provocative questions disguised in innocence.
luhan’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing but yixing is the moon that controls him.
yixing hovers around him, close enough to be seen, but just like the silver orb in the sky, he’s not nearly close enough to touch. luhan’s eyes follow him, his body growing more tense with each second that passes until yixing finally gets close enough to let his breath tickle luhan’s ear as he speaks, words treading delicately on his skin like the soft light of the moon.
“is something on your mind, lu han?”
the question is innocent enough, but luhan knows yixing better than that. he knows there’s an underlying motive hidden between each word, and luhan knows just how to read him. instead of responding, luhan tries his best to feign nonchalance, but just as well as luhan can read the younger male, yixing can do the same. it’s obvious in the low chuckle that follows his question, and the feeling of yixing’s lips slowly trailing kisses down his neck and along his shoulder.
and luhan tries. he tries his very best to keep his cool, to show restraint even when he feels the warmth of yixing’s tongue running up his neck and the following contrast of teeth nibbling on his earlobe, but patience is a virtue luhan has never had, especially when it comes to yixing. so before the other male knows what’s coming, luhan’s turning in his seat, knees digging into the cushions of the couch, and grabbing onto yixing’s wrists, tugging him roughly toward him.
“you,” he says, his voice hoarse from being tense for long. “you’re on my mind.”
luhan doesn’t even give yixing a chance to respond because he’s snaked his hand around yixing’s neck and roughly pulled him into a kiss that’s sloppy and messy and rough but needy and desperate and absolutely carnal. and it seems to be everything yixing needs because he’s broken his facade of coquettishness and is kissing him back just as hungrily, if not more.
it’s not long until they’ve made their way to their bedroom and luhan’s trailing his hands all over yixing’s body, touch light enough to be felt but not enough stimulate, and the grunts that are a result of the teasing nature of the physical contact is enough for luhan to feel a throbbing in his jeans and for his entire body to light up in a fire that can only be put out by the man he’s pinned to the bed.
“stop fucking teasing,” yixing groans, his voice full of desire and lust as he curves his back, rolling his hips up and into luhan, who only lets out a slow chuckle as he continues to do as he pleases, toying with all of yixing’s weak spots-his neck, the small of his back, the span of skin behind his ear-knowing full well yixing knows better than to do anything more than whine.
luhan positions himself between yixing’s legs, tracing kisses up and along yixing’s inner thighs, getting closer to where yixing wants him to be, only to stop and look up at him with a coy smile that can very easily be described as devilish. “you know all you have to do is ask,” he says following a swipe of his tongue over his lower lip. his words are easy as he says them, but the phrase that follows is a stark contrast in the way that he demands it, curt and sharp. “say it.”
and luhan sees a fire of defiance set ablaze in yixing’s eyes as the other purses his lips, but despite luhan’s lack of patience, yixing has none at all when it comes to luhan’s teasing nature, and he takes advantage of this fact by letting his fingers trace nondescript shapes on the bare skin of yixing’s torso, watching as the younger man’s stomach concaves from the unexpected and feather light touch. luhan bites his lips, his expression stagnantly playful with a hint of dominance before letting out a slow, drawn out breath brush yixing’s skin as he makes his way back up to his neck where he sucks on the nape, drawing his teeth to nip at it. “say it,” he demands a second time, with much more force than the last.
yixing’s eyes shut tight, chest heaving with his heavy breaths before producing a guttural groan that only fans the flames that are heating luhan up.
“f-fuck,” yixing moans, hands reaching up to tangle his fingers into luhan’s hair. “fuck me, lu ge.” he’s begging now, shamelessly rolling his body into luhan as his hands tug at the tendrils in his hands, but luhan continues to suck on his skin, waiting for what he’s asked for.
“please.”
and it’s all luhan needs to hear before scaling back, grabbing yixing by the waist and taking him with him, and suddenly it’s a whirlwind of hot breaths and low moans and sweat and teeth and god it feels so good to have yixing below him, the younger male’s face pressed into a pillow to muffle his loud grunts of pleasure as luhan thrusts into him in a rhythm that’s rapid, then slow and meticulous, then erratic while his hands pump yixing’s cock with an expert series of caresses and twists of the wrist that’s learned only from being with yixing for years.
yixing comes first, all over the new sheets, back arched, eyes rolled back, and heavily panting luhan’s name. the subsequent feeling of the throbbing and twitching of yixing’s cock in luhan’s hand sends him into his own euphoria, and he rides out the orgasm with slowing thrusts, hands digging into yixing’s hips with enough pressure to leave light bruises for the morning. they collapse onto the bed together in a sweaty heap and luhan pulls yixing to him, tracing all of yixing’s curves with his own as he treads light kisses along the base of yixing’s neck.
“i love you,” luhan whispers, still out of breath as he wraps them up in blankets that smell like the past hour.
yixing hums in response, and his satisfied chuckle vibrates against luhan’s chest. “i love you, too.”
the moon controls the both of them now, lulling them both into a heavy sleep as closes any and all space left between them before throwing his arm loosely around the other’s waist. and just before he surrenders to the heavy burden on his eyelids, he breathes in yixing’s scent, engraving the memory into his mind.ours, he thinks, his lips curving upward as he finally concedes to sleep.
this space is now ours.
life isn’t always easy. as a baby abandoned in a hospital dumpster, and as a child raised in a group home until he was eighteen, luhan knows life can be hard. there are those who are lucky enough to drive through life on cruise control, and there are people who aren’t even gifted with a means to get through it, and luhan is glad that he’s at least been given enough to claw his way to where he is now, in a home he pays for, with a job that gives him enough to get him to his next month of living, and living with someone he can love wholeheartedly and never doubt that he isn’t loved in return. in the grand scheme of things, luhan’s life isn’t so bad.
but when life throws things your way, it can seem like the most difficult hurdle to overcome, and luhan tries to keep this in mind when the light in yixing’s eyes dim for the first time since he met him fifteen years ago.
luhan was one of the lucky ones. he was able to get a job straight out of college. granted, it wasn’t the most ideal-luhan was highly overqualified-but with hard work, networking, and just a tiny bit of luck, he was promoted into the job he actually wanted.
yixing, on the other hand, was not. while luhan had majored in a field that was easily found in many job markets, it was a bit more difficult to start a career with a degree in music. the subject of yixing’s focus in school has always been a sour one between he and his parents, who often expressed their desire for their son to become a doctor like his father, but yixing had always wanted to go into music, and luhan had always known that it was where yixing belonged, simply because it was the only other thing that could brighten up his face just as much as luhan did.
but it’s tiring going day by day and coming up empty-handed. yixing tries to hide his fatigue because he’s never liked to worry luhan, but luhan can see it, feel it. he can see the sluggishness in yixing’s walk, and can hear the exhaustion in his voice. his shoulders are slumped every time he walks through the door after each interview he goes to, staying glued to the phone for weeks afterward. usually, luhan lets yixing be, because he’s afraid that if he presses on the matter, yixing may withdraw, but it’s gotten to the point that luhan can no longer watch him without worry that he may burn out.
so luhan starts the conversation casually, luhan approaching yixing on their balcony with two cups of hot tea: black for luhan, green for yixing. he sets the saucers down on the table before joining yixing by the railing, gently placing a palm at the small of his back. by the way yixing jumps, luhan can tell he’s startled him from deep thoughts, and offers a small smile as an apology.
“sorry,” he breathes, drawing circles along yixing’s back. “i brought us some tea.”
yixing chuckles silently, nodding as he allows luhan to lead him to the small table they’ve placed on the balcony weeks before, only to have barely used it because of the atypical blistering afternoons. they take a seat opposite each other, and luhan watches as yixing picks up his cup of tea, blowing on it to attempt to cool it down. it takes yixing all of five seconds to realize that luhan is staring.
“what’s on your mind?” he asks, taking a tentative sip of the scalding liquid, wincing a bit as it burns his tongue.
luhan watches him, trying to decide on how to tackle the subject. but he’s never been one to think things over before doing them, and it shows now as he bluntly asks, “how’s the job hunt going?”
yixing visibly tenses, wide eyes peering up at him before he settles back into his facade of complacency, but it’s obvious he knows luhan can tell that he’s faking it, and he sighs, setting the teacup and saucer back on the table before leaning back into his seat. luhan can see him thinking, can see the cogs turning in his brain, and he can only assume yixing’s trying to figure out what to say and how to say it, whether he should come out with it and be honest about everything that’s been weighing him down or try to cover it up again.
“it’s hard,” yixing says finally, much to the relief of luhan. but the relief is short-lived when he adds on, “but it’s nothing i can’t handle. i’m sure i’ll find something soon; i just have to keep looking.”
luhan lets out a long, drawn out sigh as he, too, leans into his chair, fingers drumming carelessly on the table’s surface. he hasn’t even touched his tea and his eyes haven’t left yixing’s face for a second. he notes every crease on his forehead as he struggles to keep everything bottled inside, and sees every tremble of his lips as he forces himself to keep it shut. a silence runs between them, and for once, it isn’t the kind that’s comfortable, where they can simply enjoy being in each other’s presence; it’s thick and suffocating, and luhan can’t stand to look at yixing anymore, not when he refuses to talk to him about what’s troubling him.
he runs a hand over his face, letting his head loll back to rest against the back of his chair and he can’t even see yixing anymore, but he can feel him, his anxieties sitting heavy on luhan’s chest. he’s unsure how long he stays there, eyes closed, trying to block everything out, but it’s yixing’s voice that brings him back to the bleak reality.
“i’ll be fine,” yixing tells him again with a smile luhan can tell is only half genuine. yixing reaches out, cupping luhan’s face as his thumb caresses his cheek. “it’s tiring, but coming home to you is enough. whenever my battery is low, you’re my charger to give me more energy.” his smile widens, and luhan can only hope this time it’s sincere. “don’t worry about me, xiaolu.”
luhan reaches up, taking yixing’s hand in his and offers a smile in return. there’s not much he can do knowing yixing is still not willing to let luhan share in his burden; all he can do for now is hope what yixing is telling him is true, and that it won’t get worse, and try to be the energizer yixing so desperately needs. he just hopes it’s enough.
“you’re cheesy as fuck, you know that?” luhan jokes in an attempt to clear the suffocating air around him.
“good,” yixing says with a light laugh that gives luhan a ilttle bit of optimism. “that means you’re not the only one. i was starting to get embarrassed for you.”
“you fucker,” luhan laughs, childishly throwing yixing’s hand down in favor of picking up his tea.
“i know,” yixing grins, picking up his own cup of tea as well. “such a shame you love me, right?”
luhan looks straight at yixing over the rim of his teacup, eyes smiling for him in his mouth’s stead. “never,” he says sincerely before taking a sip of his tea.
“i would never be ashamed of loving you.”
it’s long been said that time can heal all things, but no one really talks about how time can also make a problem larger by prolonging it, dragging on seconds and hours and days and weeks of suffering, draining people of all their energy until they’re only shells of their former selves.
and it feels like centuries since luhan’s seen the light that used to shine so brightly in yixing’s eyes. all their interactions now are shallow, and half the time it doesn’t even feel like yixing is there. but he’ll take these interactions as he gets them, because it’s better than the alternative, where yixing avoids luhan altogether in order to seem stronger than he is. in a matter of months, they’ve become like magnets, still one in the same, but repelling each other by a force that seems to be out of their control.
luhan hates it. he hates that the one thing yixing refuses to share with him is the one thing that’s slowly eating at them, and luhan’s afraid that if he lets this go on any longer, there won’t be anything left for them to salvage. so he approaches yixing, corners him in their bedroom and takes a hold of yixing’s wrist as he tries to walk past him and out of the room.
“why won’t you talk to me?” he asks, pulling on yixing’s arm, forcing him to turn and look at him.
yixing winces as he tries to take his arm back. “what are you talking about, xiaolu?”
“don’t,” luhan snaps, the nickname only making him angrier; it’s as if yixing is trivializing their slow deterioration when all this while luhan has been worrying, not only for yixing’s state of mind, but for the state of their entire relationship. he tightens his grip on yixing’s wrist, tugging on his arm again only to be met with a resistance that sends a sharp pain shooting through his heart. reluctantly, luhan releases him, feeling the air escape his lungs as yixing attempts to walk away again.
“i know you haven’t been okay.”
the words finally seem to get through to yixing as he stops in his tracks, turning to slowly face luhan once more. “i told you; i’m fine,” he says, and luhan can hear the lie loud and clear. “it’s nothing to worry about.”
luhan rolls his eyes, letting out a heavy breath. “you don’t trust me,” he retorts, swallowing hard at the realization, and it hits him like a semi going eighty miles per hour has just collided into him.
yixing’s eyes search his as he attempts to grab at luhan’s hands, but luhan retracts, taking several steps back and shaking his head. “luhan, please,” yixing begs, his hands taking hold of themselves in the absence of luhan’s own. “you know i trust you. i do. but this isn’t something you need to worry over. i’m fine. you don’t have to burden yourself like this when i can take care of myself.”
“you’re a fucking liar,” luhan spits out before he can even think about what he’s saying, but even as the words belatedly register in his mind, he can’t bring himself to regret them. there’s venom in his tone and ice in his glare and he can’t even bring himself to react to the way yixing’s own expression twists into one of animosity.
“is that what you really feel?” yixing asks, his tone matching luhan’s completely. there’s hurt in his darkened brown orbs and he can hear how yixing’s throat has tightened, choking him.
but luhan’s angry now, and he’s hurt, too. he’s always told yixing everything because he knows everything will be okay as long as he has yixing by his side. to realize now that yixing didn’t feel the same-it sent a wave of bitterness coarsing through his veins, and he could no longer control his words.
“if the shoe fits.”
the phrase seems to finally send yixing over the edge as the younger laughs bitterly, the sound devoid of every bit of joy that luhan’s come to associate with it.
“fine,” yixing says, the word said with such a finality that luhan feels tears burning at the back of his eyes, but his pride disallows them from even forming at all.
he waits for yixing to say something, anything more, but he doesn’t. instead, he turns on his heel and storms off, leaving luhan behind in a cloud of uncertainty and anger and indignation and worry, but his feet are rooted to the ground and he can’t bring himself to go after him, even when he hears the front door slam and feels an overwhelming sense of loneliness suddenly take over the entire apartment.
the regret doesn’t settle in until midnight, when yixing still hasn’t returned and luhan resigns to the bedroom to crawl into a bed that feels glaringly empty without the familiar feeling of warmth beside him. but even with his head against his pillow and the lights turned off, his eyes remain open, focused on a blank spot on the wall as if it were the one thing in the world that deserves all his attention, as if it were yixing.
luhan’s unaware what time it is when he finally hears the front door creak open and careful footsteps pad through the apartment. he remains still, immobile, even as yixing slips under the covers. luhan feels yixing’s arms wrap around his torso and he tenses when he feels yixing press his face into his back. muffled words float through the silence as yixing speaks.
“i’m sorry.”
finally, luhan moves, turns in yixing’s arms to look at him, to touch him, and yixing has been gone for only a few hours but it feels like its been ages since luhan’s been able to touch him, and he threads his fingers through the younger man’s hair and gently lifts his chin so he can hold his gaze, but yixing is reluctant, eyes diverting every time luhan tries to look into them.
“i’m sorry, too,” luhan breathes, running his thumb along yixing’s cheek in attempt to calm him.
yixing shakes his head. “no, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have tried to hide it. i shouldn’t have tried to push you away. i was just afraid and-”
but luhan doesn’t want to hear it. he doesn’t want any of yixing’s apologies or explanations; he just wants him. and so he cuts him off, kisses him so softly that they may have never touched at all, and his whispers dance along yixing’s lips as his thumb continues to stroke his cheeks. “don’t ever leave me again,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yixing’s. “don’t ever leave me without saying goodbye.”
yixing finally lifts his eyes, gazing deep into luhan’s yearning eyes as if searching, and the corners of his lips turn upward into a small, apologetic smile. “i won’t. i won’t ever leave you,” he says as if desperate for luhan to believe him. “so i won’t ever have to say goodbye.”
luhan returns the smile with one of his own before recapturing yixing’s lips in a kiss that’s much more forceful than the last, with a passion that speaks louder than any string of words luhan could ever string together. it’s when yixing returns the kiss with the same amount of tenderness and love that luhan finally feels whole again, like his life is complete.
they break the kiss only due to the necessity to breathe, and luhan reaches out to pull yixing closer to him, holding the young male tight to his chest as he rests his chin atop his head. they’d have things to talk about tomorrow morning, but for now, this serenity and this feeling of holding the entire world in his arms is all luhan needs.
and maybe they are like magnets, naturally opposed as people are wont to be, but magnets are also stronger when stacked as long as there’s a way to keep them together, and luhan’s certain now that not even the strongest forces of nature can keep them apart, because there’s no way he’s going to give yixing up. and as he listens to yixing’s breaths fall into a rhythm that lets him know he’s fallen asleep, luhan is sure, now more than ever, that yixing feels the same way.
the incessant sound of a ringing phone wakes luhan from his sunday afternoon nap, and it takes every bit of strength to peel himself away from yixing, who’s in such a deep state of sleep that not even the sound of luhan tripping over the empty mug from which he’d been eating ice cream wakes him. in a mess of clumsy limbs and disorientation, luhan somehow manages to make his way to the phone before their collaborative answering machine message answers for him. groggily, he mumbles a greeting into the phone, and when the unknown voice on the other line asks to speak with yixing, luhan rubs his eyes, glancing back at the unmoving figure still on the couch.
“he’s unavailable at the moment,” luhan says, trying to hide the sleep in his voice with a high and enthusiastic volume. “can i take a message?”
and he does. he diligently writes down every half-heard word the man on the other line speaks before bidding him farewell. it’s not until he reads over the message again that the sleep still resting on his eyelids finally disappears, replaced by wide eyes and a grin to match.
“xing,” he says, excitement building slowly as he scrambles back to the couch, throwing himself on top of the napping figure. “zhang yixing, wake up, you lazy sack of shit!”
luhan tries everything, from pinching the younger’s cheeks to tickling his sides, but it takes a prompt slap to his crotch for yixing to finally open his eyes with a groan.
“god fucking damn it, lu han, what,” he snaps, curling into a ball as he attempts to nurse his damaged goods.
“you got it,” luhan responds, words purposely vague.
“an unprovoked shot to the balls?” is the retort he receives, along with a kick to his abdomen, which he certainly deserves. “yeah, i got that.”
“no,” luhan emphasizes. “you. got. it.”
“i swear to god,” yixing growls, sitting up as he rubs his eyes. “if you don’t quit the act, i’m going to do more than slap your dick.”
“the paid internship,” luhan says finally, laughter spilling from lips parted by a smile. “you got it.”
“what?”
yixing gawks at luhan, mouth agape and eyes wide. he doesn’t move for a few seconds, and luhan counts down in his head just how many have passed before everything finally clicks.
seven, eight, nine...
“at interscope records? are you fucking kidding me?” yixing says finally in a burst of energy that luhan thinks should be impossible for anyone to have after being so rudely awakened.
but luhan just smiles, everything yixing needs for him to know the news is true written all over luhan’s face. yixing jumps up from the couch, dragging luhan along with him for an impromptu dance around the apartment that wakes their sleeping pup-show, named after a taiwanese singer luhan’s never heard of because he’s never listened to chinese pop in his entire life-and the previously silent apartment is now filled with raucous noise.
several minutes have passed before they’ve all settled down, and luhan pulls yixing into a tight embrace, his lips hovering beside yixing’s ear. when he speaks, his voice is so soft he’s sure that even if they were in a silent room full of people, yixing would be the only one to hear. “you did it, xing. i’m so proud of you.”
yixing’s hold on luhan’s waist tightens, and his response plasters a grin across luhan’s face. “it’s all thanks to you, my muse.”
and as luhan breaks the embrace only to capture yixing’s lips in the sweetest and most wholesome kiss he’s ever given in his life, luhan thinks he knows what true, pure happiness is. it’s loving someone, and being loved in return, in a relationship that’s unassuming, unselfish. it’s growing up together, achieving life goals together, moving in together, overcoming obstacles together, making love, fighting, making up, learning to communicate, learning from mistakes. it’s all the little things and all the big things and yixing is everything wrapped up in one, magnificent person. and luhan would have it no other way.
he’s spent the majority of their relationship always comparing them to other, more poetic things, but as the two of them waltz around the apartment to a song only the two of them can hear, luhan realizes that they are none of those things. they aren’t the wolf or the the moon it howls at, nor are they magnets or rocks or water or penguins. they’re yixing and luhan, two people so inexplicably and irrevocably in love that it simply cannot be compared to anything else.
and maybe they haven’t achieved their greatest dreams and goals yet, and perhaps they never will, but as long as they’ve got each other, luhan thinks, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
pairing: luhan x yixing
genre: domestic/post-college au
rating: r
length: ~6800w
summary: the real world is hard, but luhan makes sure yixing doesn't have to go it alone.
yixing is like stone: solid, secure. he’s a pillar, a constant symbol of strength and stability. luhan is like water: free, flowing, able to fill every crack and crevice yixing has, right into his very bones. but luhan also weathers yixing, breaks him down, erodes him until he’s the smallest grain of sand, and luhan can do nothing but apologize even though yixing doesn’t seem to mind, because even at the bottom of the ocean, the water will always meet the sand.
they’re two forces of nature: strong individually, seeming to work against each other but still naturally coming together.
luhan tells yixing this one night, while on a skype call that’s lasted six hours, but all yixing’s been doing is working on his masters thesis and luhan’s been talking his ear off because he’s having an inconvenient insomnia spell the night he has a portfolio due and a meeting with the editor in chief in the morning. it’s the first time yixing’s even looked up from his notes and his books for the past two hours.
“xiaolu,” he says plainly, because between them there’s no need for the rigid honorifics they learned as kids and also because everyone always assumes luhan is younger anyway.
“ah, now i remember what your face looks like.” luhan’s comment is unnecessary, asinine, and it’s brushed off like a speck of dust.
“that’s the gayest thing i think i’ve ever heard you say.”
“hey, fuck you!”
the words fall off luhan’s lips easy, without a hint of malice, and before he can even stop himself, his empty apartment is echoing with his own laughter, and he’s awoken yixing’s dorm mate-he can tell because he can hear the complaints, faint but clear. yixing’s trying to stay quiet as his shoulders shake, a hand clasped over his mouth and luhan thinks yixing might have the most beautiful laugh in the world even though he can only see half of it. but the eyes are enough, he thinks, in the way they curve into crescent moon shapes and twinkle in the light of his laptop.
“you should sleep soon,” yixing says once his laughter dies down to only a faint chuckle, which is lost in the ups and downs of his tone.
“you first.” and even though luhan protests, a yawn surfaces, leaving his mouth in an unattractive stretch of body and soul that brings about a look of amusement on the other boy’s face. “yeah, okay,” luhan speaks hurriedly before yixing can retort. “don’t stay up too late, okay?”
“i’m almost done,” yixing says, gaze disappearing once more in favor of his books and his notes and his nearly completed thesis.
“xing.”
no response.
“i love you.”
and even though yixing’s gaze doesn’t wander from the body of words printed on the pages of his music theory textbook, all the response luhan needs is clear in the way the corners of yixing’s lips curve upward in just the slightest manner and the way his highlighter stops gliding across the page. “good night, lu han.”
“good night, zhang yixing.”
and with perfect timing, as usual, just as luhan is about to exit out of the skype program, yixing adds without looking up, “i love you, too.”
luhan sleeps like a baby that night and nearly misses his meeting in the morning.
yixing is intoxicating, irresistible; his scent is heady and the feeling of his flushed skin pressed against luhan’s own on an uncharacteristically muggy afternoon in los angeles is a rush luhan can’t get anywhere else. yixing is a powerful drug, and luhan an addict, willing to do anything to get his fix with no intention of ever getting clean.
if luhan could have it his way, he’d stay in bed with yixing for the rest of the day, buried under dirty sheets and ridiculously fluffy pillows, their legs entangled in each other, but yixing’s always hated the heat, and he’s graduating in two hours, so he should probably shower.
but luhan’s stubborn as he rolls onto his side, tightening his legs around yixing’s and throwing his arm around the other’s torso as he buries his face into the nape of yixing’s neck, inhaling his scent as he smiles into his skin, softly humming a vaguely familiar tune. “let’s never get out of bed,” he says frivolously, knowing full well that they’d both have to get up soon to start getting ready for the ceremony.
“mm,” yixing responds in agreement, throwing luhan off enough for him to pull back and search the younger male’s face.
“you’re graduating in two hours,” luhan reminds him, thumb tracing circles along the bare skin of yixing’s back. he’s given a response in the form of incoherent mumbles and luhan pulls back even further, observing yixing’s face and the way his eyebrows pull together and his lips pout unintentionally. “you don’t want to go?”
“graduations are bullshit anyway,” yixing murmurs, pulling luhan back in closer to him.
luhan frowns, but obliges to the tug, nestling back into the home he’s made under yixing’s arm and on his chest. “they’re not bullshit. you were so excited when we graduated with our bachelor’s degree. why the sudden change of heart?”
yixing shrugs, and luhan can feel him rest his chin atop his. “i guess that’s just it. i’ve already done it. it feels like it’ll just be a repeat if i do it again, like it’ll cancel out the first time i did it.”
luhan says nothing for a few moments; there’s not much he can say when he didn’t even bother going back to school for his master’s, whereas yixing had been the one to continue his education. he feels yixing’s chest rise and fall with a long sigh, and luhan’s forefinger traces a path from yixing’s navel up to his chest where he presses it into the groove where his chest meets his diaphragm. “it’s special to me,” he says finally, lifting his head so he can meet eyes with yixing.
he’s answered with a soft smile and fingers running through his hair. “if it’s important for you to see me walking the stage so you can snap pictures you’ll never develop, then we’ll go,” yixing says softly.
“i’ll develop them!” luhan insists with a frown, eyebrows furrowing together in disagreement. “and i’ll frame them, too!”
yixing laughs, and luhan can feel the vibrations coming from within his chest, and can’t help but laugh along, if only at the way his own head rises and falls with the movements. “good luck finding one that isn’t blurry.”
“asshole,” luhan murmurs, sitting up in defiance only to be pulled back down by strong arms, though they needn’t be, because any motion of yixing wanting him, needing him, is enough for luhan to be reeled back in.
“we’ll go,” yixing says, wrapping his arms and legs around him so that luhan can hardly move. “we’ll go and then we’ll develop the photos and i can put all your ugly, blurry photos on my nightstand.”
luhan looks up at him, attempting a disdainful look only to end up mirroring yixing’s contagious smile. “next to the one of us in palm springs?” luhan asks hopefully.
“right between that one, and the one of us in big bear,” yixing confirms.
with a grin, luhan turns, wrapping his arm once again around yixing’s torso as he rests his forehead to yixing’s chest. “one day, it’ll be our nightstand,” he murmurs under his breath, and again he can feel yixing’s chest come to life with laughter.
“yes,” yixing agrees, holding luhan tighter. “some day.”
luhan has always heard people say that penguins mate for life, and that’s what he felt like he was doing when he first asked yixing to move in with him. his apartment is small and cramped because the rent for an apartment in west la is exorbitant and luhan’s job pays barely enough for rent and food, but luhan doesn’t mind sharing such a small space with yixing because, yes, yixing is his mate for life.
luhan’s also heard that penguins share in care of the household and of the offspring, and a penguin’s what he feels like when he stops by the pet store after work and brings home a goldfish with big, bulging eyes, almost identical with all the other goldfish in its tank. as soon as he walks in the room with the small container and the swimming fish, yixing eyes him from the couch where he’s sending out resumes on his laptop.
“xiaolu, what is that?”
“it’s our baby.”
yixing is obviously holding back a laugh, poorly disguising his scoff as he clears his throat and shuts his laptop. “our baby,” he repeats, more a statement than a question or request for clarification.
luhan beams, nodding his head as he removes his shoes at the doorway before shuffling into the living room, placing the goldfish and its home onto the coffee table as he kneels in front of it. “his name’s wang leehom.”
“you named our son after a chinese actor?” yixing asks, eyebrow raised as he peers into the container. “i’m surprised you didn’t name him luhan the second or something.” he lifts a finger, tapping lightly on the plastic. the goldfish swiftly swims away from the source of sound, frightened.
“don’t do that!” luhan whines, swiping the small tank off the coffee table and out of yixing’s reach. “he doesn’t like it when you do that.”
this time, yixing makes no effort to disguise his laughter as it billows from his mouth, all dimples and boyish charm as his eyes disappear behind two crescent shapes. luhan is almost tempted to let his annoyance simmer because yixing’s laughter and smile are his favorite things, and yixing doesn’t know it, but all it takes to break luhan down is a flash of a smile and his stupid laugh. but luhan is nothing if not resilient, so he manages to keep himself together long enough to scold yixing again.
“you have to treat our son with respect.”
that seems to get yixing to calm down, though there’s still evidence of his laughter in his lingering smile. “okay,” yixing obliges, leaning forward to rest his chin on luhan’s shoulder, and luhan can feel the heat of yixing’s breath when he speaks again, sending a shiver down his spine. “now can you put him back on the table so i can get a good look at him?”
luhan gives yixing one last judging look before reluctantly placing the tank back on the wooded surface, allowing yixing the chance to peer into it and watch leehom swim around without a care in the world with its gravel and its bubbles and its companion in the form of a lone plastic seaweed.
“mm, han?” yixing says after a few moments of silence, a hint of uncertainty in his voice intermingled with a new found amusement.
“hm?” luhan asks absentmindedly, finding a strange sort of serenity in the way leehom’s fins weave through the water. he tears his eyes away to look up at yixing, head quirked to the side in curiosity. “what is it?”
“i think leehom’s a girl.”
“no, he’s not!” luhan snaps, turning his head quickly to peer into the tank again, eyes piercing into leehom’s soul. he’s a male; luhan’s sure of it-he can see it in the goldfish’s aura. “how can you even tell?”
“you see her protuding, er, asshole?”
even in all his confusion, luhan can’t help but burst out into laughter at yixing’s choice of words. “mm, i love it when you talk science, babe,” he murmurs teasingly, reaching out to tap the other male’s cheek fondly.
“shut up,” is all he gets in response, yixing’s eyes remaining fixated on their new housemate. “and she also has a thick, rounded body. i’m pretty sure leehom’s a girl.”
“she-he’s not!” luhan denies again, nudging yixing’s head off his shoulder as he picks leehom off the table and scoots away from the doubtful man. “he’s a manly male.”
luhan remains deliberately obtuse about the gender of their goldfish for two weeks, but in the end, it doesn’t matter anyway, because they forget to feed it, resulting in a tearful burial at sea (the toilet bowl).
“farewell, wang leehom the fish. we barely knew thee.”
it takes a few months for luhan’s man cave (as he insisted on everyone calling it) to turn from his space to their space. it starts with piles of yixing’s clothes and a new dresser and yixing’s toiletries scattered all across the bathroom sink, then progresses into yixing buying plants and framed photography and new sheets for the bed because “they don’t even match your drapes-and that isn’t a euphemism.’ slowly, luhan’s things become yixing’s, and vice versa, and there isn’t anything in the house anymore that belongs solely to either of them but each other’s hearts.
the couch is theirs, with the grooves luhan has worked into them from always sitting in the same spot eventually being massaged out from yixing always having to switch positions every half hour. the pantry is theirs, the inventory no longer limited to ramen and instant dinners because yixing can actually cook without burning the apartment down. the kitchen cabinets are filled with new kitchenware and pots and pans and his netflix account starts to recommend chinese romantic comedies and old black and white films.
then there’s the bedroom. luhan has always considered it his most personal space. it’s where he sleeps, thinks, dreams, jacks off, spends his time alone. there’s no quicker way to gain insight into his mind than to spend the night in his bed, and yixing’s done it countless times, on calm nights when the moon is so bright it illuminates the room as they sleep soundly in each other’s arms, and on nights like tonight, where luhan’s licking his lips and yixing is responding with coy smiles and provocative questions disguised in innocence.
luhan’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing but yixing is the moon that controls him.
yixing hovers around him, close enough to be seen, but just like the silver orb in the sky, he’s not nearly close enough to touch. luhan’s eyes follow him, his body growing more tense with each second that passes until yixing finally gets close enough to let his breath tickle luhan’s ear as he speaks, words treading delicately on his skin like the soft light of the moon.
“is something on your mind, lu han?”
the question is innocent enough, but luhan knows yixing better than that. he knows there’s an underlying motive hidden between each word, and luhan knows just how to read him. instead of responding, luhan tries his best to feign nonchalance, but just as well as luhan can read the younger male, yixing can do the same. it’s obvious in the low chuckle that follows his question, and the feeling of yixing’s lips slowly trailing kisses down his neck and along his shoulder.
and luhan tries. he tries his very best to keep his cool, to show restraint even when he feels the warmth of yixing’s tongue running up his neck and the following contrast of teeth nibbling on his earlobe, but patience is a virtue luhan has never had, especially when it comes to yixing. so before the other male knows what’s coming, luhan’s turning in his seat, knees digging into the cushions of the couch, and grabbing onto yixing’s wrists, tugging him roughly toward him.
“you,” he says, his voice hoarse from being tense for long. “you’re on my mind.”
luhan doesn’t even give yixing a chance to respond because he’s snaked his hand around yixing’s neck and roughly pulled him into a kiss that’s sloppy and messy and rough but needy and desperate and absolutely carnal. and it seems to be everything yixing needs because he’s broken his facade of coquettishness and is kissing him back just as hungrily, if not more.
it’s not long until they’ve made their way to their bedroom and luhan’s trailing his hands all over yixing’s body, touch light enough to be felt but not enough stimulate, and the grunts that are a result of the teasing nature of the physical contact is enough for luhan to feel a throbbing in his jeans and for his entire body to light up in a fire that can only be put out by the man he’s pinned to the bed.
“stop fucking teasing,” yixing groans, his voice full of desire and lust as he curves his back, rolling his hips up and into luhan, who only lets out a slow chuckle as he continues to do as he pleases, toying with all of yixing’s weak spots-his neck, the small of his back, the span of skin behind his ear-knowing full well yixing knows better than to do anything more than whine.
luhan positions himself between yixing’s legs, tracing kisses up and along yixing’s inner thighs, getting closer to where yixing wants him to be, only to stop and look up at him with a coy smile that can very easily be described as devilish. “you know all you have to do is ask,” he says following a swipe of his tongue over his lower lip. his words are easy as he says them, but the phrase that follows is a stark contrast in the way that he demands it, curt and sharp. “say it.”
and luhan sees a fire of defiance set ablaze in yixing’s eyes as the other purses his lips, but despite luhan’s lack of patience, yixing has none at all when it comes to luhan’s teasing nature, and he takes advantage of this fact by letting his fingers trace nondescript shapes on the bare skin of yixing’s torso, watching as the younger man’s stomach concaves from the unexpected and feather light touch. luhan bites his lips, his expression stagnantly playful with a hint of dominance before letting out a slow, drawn out breath brush yixing’s skin as he makes his way back up to his neck where he sucks on the nape, drawing his teeth to nip at it. “say it,” he demands a second time, with much more force than the last.
yixing’s eyes shut tight, chest heaving with his heavy breaths before producing a guttural groan that only fans the flames that are heating luhan up.
“f-fuck,” yixing moans, hands reaching up to tangle his fingers into luhan’s hair. “fuck me, lu ge.” he’s begging now, shamelessly rolling his body into luhan as his hands tug at the tendrils in his hands, but luhan continues to suck on his skin, waiting for what he’s asked for.
“please.”
and it’s all luhan needs to hear before scaling back, grabbing yixing by the waist and taking him with him, and suddenly it’s a whirlwind of hot breaths and low moans and sweat and teeth and god it feels so good to have yixing below him, the younger male’s face pressed into a pillow to muffle his loud grunts of pleasure as luhan thrusts into him in a rhythm that’s rapid, then slow and meticulous, then erratic while his hands pump yixing’s cock with an expert series of caresses and twists of the wrist that’s learned only from being with yixing for years.
yixing comes first, all over the new sheets, back arched, eyes rolled back, and heavily panting luhan’s name. the subsequent feeling of the throbbing and twitching of yixing’s cock in luhan’s hand sends him into his own euphoria, and he rides out the orgasm with slowing thrusts, hands digging into yixing’s hips with enough pressure to leave light bruises for the morning. they collapse onto the bed together in a sweaty heap and luhan pulls yixing to him, tracing all of yixing’s curves with his own as he treads light kisses along the base of yixing’s neck.
“i love you,” luhan whispers, still out of breath as he wraps them up in blankets that smell like the past hour.
yixing hums in response, and his satisfied chuckle vibrates against luhan’s chest. “i love you, too.”
the moon controls the both of them now, lulling them both into a heavy sleep as closes any and all space left between them before throwing his arm loosely around the other’s waist. and just before he surrenders to the heavy burden on his eyelids, he breathes in yixing’s scent, engraving the memory into his mind.ours, he thinks, his lips curving upward as he finally concedes to sleep.
this space is now ours.
life isn’t always easy. as a baby abandoned in a hospital dumpster, and as a child raised in a group home until he was eighteen, luhan knows life can be hard. there are those who are lucky enough to drive through life on cruise control, and there are people who aren’t even gifted with a means to get through it, and luhan is glad that he’s at least been given enough to claw his way to where he is now, in a home he pays for, with a job that gives him enough to get him to his next month of living, and living with someone he can love wholeheartedly and never doubt that he isn’t loved in return. in the grand scheme of things, luhan’s life isn’t so bad.
but when life throws things your way, it can seem like the most difficult hurdle to overcome, and luhan tries to keep this in mind when the light in yixing’s eyes dim for the first time since he met him fifteen years ago.
luhan was one of the lucky ones. he was able to get a job straight out of college. granted, it wasn’t the most ideal-luhan was highly overqualified-but with hard work, networking, and just a tiny bit of luck, he was promoted into the job he actually wanted.
yixing, on the other hand, was not. while luhan had majored in a field that was easily found in many job markets, it was a bit more difficult to start a career with a degree in music. the subject of yixing’s focus in school has always been a sour one between he and his parents, who often expressed their desire for their son to become a doctor like his father, but yixing had always wanted to go into music, and luhan had always known that it was where yixing belonged, simply because it was the only other thing that could brighten up his face just as much as luhan did.
but it’s tiring going day by day and coming up empty-handed. yixing tries to hide his fatigue because he’s never liked to worry luhan, but luhan can see it, feel it. he can see the sluggishness in yixing’s walk, and can hear the exhaustion in his voice. his shoulders are slumped every time he walks through the door after each interview he goes to, staying glued to the phone for weeks afterward. usually, luhan lets yixing be, because he’s afraid that if he presses on the matter, yixing may withdraw, but it’s gotten to the point that luhan can no longer watch him without worry that he may burn out.
so luhan starts the conversation casually, luhan approaching yixing on their balcony with two cups of hot tea: black for luhan, green for yixing. he sets the saucers down on the table before joining yixing by the railing, gently placing a palm at the small of his back. by the way yixing jumps, luhan can tell he’s startled him from deep thoughts, and offers a small smile as an apology.
“sorry,” he breathes, drawing circles along yixing’s back. “i brought us some tea.”
yixing chuckles silently, nodding as he allows luhan to lead him to the small table they’ve placed on the balcony weeks before, only to have barely used it because of the atypical blistering afternoons. they take a seat opposite each other, and luhan watches as yixing picks up his cup of tea, blowing on it to attempt to cool it down. it takes yixing all of five seconds to realize that luhan is staring.
“what’s on your mind?” he asks, taking a tentative sip of the scalding liquid, wincing a bit as it burns his tongue.
luhan watches him, trying to decide on how to tackle the subject. but he’s never been one to think things over before doing them, and it shows now as he bluntly asks, “how’s the job hunt going?”
yixing visibly tenses, wide eyes peering up at him before he settles back into his facade of complacency, but it’s obvious he knows luhan can tell that he’s faking it, and he sighs, setting the teacup and saucer back on the table before leaning back into his seat. luhan can see him thinking, can see the cogs turning in his brain, and he can only assume yixing’s trying to figure out what to say and how to say it, whether he should come out with it and be honest about everything that’s been weighing him down or try to cover it up again.
“it’s hard,” yixing says finally, much to the relief of luhan. but the relief is short-lived when he adds on, “but it’s nothing i can’t handle. i’m sure i’ll find something soon; i just have to keep looking.”
luhan lets out a long, drawn out sigh as he, too, leans into his chair, fingers drumming carelessly on the table’s surface. he hasn’t even touched his tea and his eyes haven’t left yixing’s face for a second. he notes every crease on his forehead as he struggles to keep everything bottled inside, and sees every tremble of his lips as he forces himself to keep it shut. a silence runs between them, and for once, it isn’t the kind that’s comfortable, where they can simply enjoy being in each other’s presence; it’s thick and suffocating, and luhan can’t stand to look at yixing anymore, not when he refuses to talk to him about what’s troubling him.
he runs a hand over his face, letting his head loll back to rest against the back of his chair and he can’t even see yixing anymore, but he can feel him, his anxieties sitting heavy on luhan’s chest. he’s unsure how long he stays there, eyes closed, trying to block everything out, but it’s yixing’s voice that brings him back to the bleak reality.
“i’ll be fine,” yixing tells him again with a smile luhan can tell is only half genuine. yixing reaches out, cupping luhan’s face as his thumb caresses his cheek. “it’s tiring, but coming home to you is enough. whenever my battery is low, you’re my charger to give me more energy.” his smile widens, and luhan can only hope this time it’s sincere. “don’t worry about me, xiaolu.”
luhan reaches up, taking yixing’s hand in his and offers a smile in return. there’s not much he can do knowing yixing is still not willing to let luhan share in his burden; all he can do for now is hope what yixing is telling him is true, and that it won’t get worse, and try to be the energizer yixing so desperately needs. he just hopes it’s enough.
“you’re cheesy as fuck, you know that?” luhan jokes in an attempt to clear the suffocating air around him.
“good,” yixing says with a light laugh that gives luhan a ilttle bit of optimism. “that means you’re not the only one. i was starting to get embarrassed for you.”
“you fucker,” luhan laughs, childishly throwing yixing’s hand down in favor of picking up his tea.
“i know,” yixing grins, picking up his own cup of tea as well. “such a shame you love me, right?”
luhan looks straight at yixing over the rim of his teacup, eyes smiling for him in his mouth’s stead. “never,” he says sincerely before taking a sip of his tea.
“i would never be ashamed of loving you.”
it’s long been said that time can heal all things, but no one really talks about how time can also make a problem larger by prolonging it, dragging on seconds and hours and days and weeks of suffering, draining people of all their energy until they’re only shells of their former selves.
and it feels like centuries since luhan’s seen the light that used to shine so brightly in yixing’s eyes. all their interactions now are shallow, and half the time it doesn’t even feel like yixing is there. but he’ll take these interactions as he gets them, because it’s better than the alternative, where yixing avoids luhan altogether in order to seem stronger than he is. in a matter of months, they’ve become like magnets, still one in the same, but repelling each other by a force that seems to be out of their control.
luhan hates it. he hates that the one thing yixing refuses to share with him is the one thing that’s slowly eating at them, and luhan’s afraid that if he lets this go on any longer, there won’t be anything left for them to salvage. so he approaches yixing, corners him in their bedroom and takes a hold of yixing’s wrist as he tries to walk past him and out of the room.
“why won’t you talk to me?” he asks, pulling on yixing’s arm, forcing him to turn and look at him.
yixing winces as he tries to take his arm back. “what are you talking about, xiaolu?”
“don’t,” luhan snaps, the nickname only making him angrier; it’s as if yixing is trivializing their slow deterioration when all this while luhan has been worrying, not only for yixing’s state of mind, but for the state of their entire relationship. he tightens his grip on yixing’s wrist, tugging on his arm again only to be met with a resistance that sends a sharp pain shooting through his heart. reluctantly, luhan releases him, feeling the air escape his lungs as yixing attempts to walk away again.
“i know you haven’t been okay.”
the words finally seem to get through to yixing as he stops in his tracks, turning to slowly face luhan once more. “i told you; i’m fine,” he says, and luhan can hear the lie loud and clear. “it’s nothing to worry about.”
luhan rolls his eyes, letting out a heavy breath. “you don’t trust me,” he retorts, swallowing hard at the realization, and it hits him like a semi going eighty miles per hour has just collided into him.
yixing’s eyes search his as he attempts to grab at luhan’s hands, but luhan retracts, taking several steps back and shaking his head. “luhan, please,” yixing begs, his hands taking hold of themselves in the absence of luhan’s own. “you know i trust you. i do. but this isn’t something you need to worry over. i’m fine. you don’t have to burden yourself like this when i can take care of myself.”
“you’re a fucking liar,” luhan spits out before he can even think about what he’s saying, but even as the words belatedly register in his mind, he can’t bring himself to regret them. there’s venom in his tone and ice in his glare and he can’t even bring himself to react to the way yixing’s own expression twists into one of animosity.
“is that what you really feel?” yixing asks, his tone matching luhan’s completely. there’s hurt in his darkened brown orbs and he can hear how yixing’s throat has tightened, choking him.
but luhan’s angry now, and he’s hurt, too. he’s always told yixing everything because he knows everything will be okay as long as he has yixing by his side. to realize now that yixing didn’t feel the same-it sent a wave of bitterness coarsing through his veins, and he could no longer control his words.
“if the shoe fits.”
the phrase seems to finally send yixing over the edge as the younger laughs bitterly, the sound devoid of every bit of joy that luhan’s come to associate with it.
“fine,” yixing says, the word said with such a finality that luhan feels tears burning at the back of his eyes, but his pride disallows them from even forming at all.
he waits for yixing to say something, anything more, but he doesn’t. instead, he turns on his heel and storms off, leaving luhan behind in a cloud of uncertainty and anger and indignation and worry, but his feet are rooted to the ground and he can’t bring himself to go after him, even when he hears the front door slam and feels an overwhelming sense of loneliness suddenly take over the entire apartment.
the regret doesn’t settle in until midnight, when yixing still hasn’t returned and luhan resigns to the bedroom to crawl into a bed that feels glaringly empty without the familiar feeling of warmth beside him. but even with his head against his pillow and the lights turned off, his eyes remain open, focused on a blank spot on the wall as if it were the one thing in the world that deserves all his attention, as if it were yixing.
luhan’s unaware what time it is when he finally hears the front door creak open and careful footsteps pad through the apartment. he remains still, immobile, even as yixing slips under the covers. luhan feels yixing’s arms wrap around his torso and he tenses when he feels yixing press his face into his back. muffled words float through the silence as yixing speaks.
“i’m sorry.”
finally, luhan moves, turns in yixing’s arms to look at him, to touch him, and yixing has been gone for only a few hours but it feels like its been ages since luhan’s been able to touch him, and he threads his fingers through the younger man’s hair and gently lifts his chin so he can hold his gaze, but yixing is reluctant, eyes diverting every time luhan tries to look into them.
“i’m sorry, too,” luhan breathes, running his thumb along yixing’s cheek in attempt to calm him.
yixing shakes his head. “no, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have tried to hide it. i shouldn’t have tried to push you away. i was just afraid and-”
but luhan doesn’t want to hear it. he doesn’t want any of yixing’s apologies or explanations; he just wants him. and so he cuts him off, kisses him so softly that they may have never touched at all, and his whispers dance along yixing’s lips as his thumb continues to stroke his cheeks. “don’t ever leave me again,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yixing’s. “don’t ever leave me without saying goodbye.”
yixing finally lifts his eyes, gazing deep into luhan’s yearning eyes as if searching, and the corners of his lips turn upward into a small, apologetic smile. “i won’t. i won’t ever leave you,” he says as if desperate for luhan to believe him. “so i won’t ever have to say goodbye.”
luhan returns the smile with one of his own before recapturing yixing’s lips in a kiss that’s much more forceful than the last, with a passion that speaks louder than any string of words luhan could ever string together. it’s when yixing returns the kiss with the same amount of tenderness and love that luhan finally feels whole again, like his life is complete.
they break the kiss only due to the necessity to breathe, and luhan reaches out to pull yixing closer to him, holding the young male tight to his chest as he rests his chin atop his head. they’d have things to talk about tomorrow morning, but for now, this serenity and this feeling of holding the entire world in his arms is all luhan needs.
and maybe they are like magnets, naturally opposed as people are wont to be, but magnets are also stronger when stacked as long as there’s a way to keep them together, and luhan’s certain now that not even the strongest forces of nature can keep them apart, because there’s no way he’s going to give yixing up. and as he listens to yixing’s breaths fall into a rhythm that lets him know he’s fallen asleep, luhan is sure, now more than ever, that yixing feels the same way.
the incessant sound of a ringing phone wakes luhan from his sunday afternoon nap, and it takes every bit of strength to peel himself away from yixing, who’s in such a deep state of sleep that not even the sound of luhan tripping over the empty mug from which he’d been eating ice cream wakes him. in a mess of clumsy limbs and disorientation, luhan somehow manages to make his way to the phone before their collaborative answering machine message answers for him. groggily, he mumbles a greeting into the phone, and when the unknown voice on the other line asks to speak with yixing, luhan rubs his eyes, glancing back at the unmoving figure still on the couch.
“he’s unavailable at the moment,” luhan says, trying to hide the sleep in his voice with a high and enthusiastic volume. “can i take a message?”
and he does. he diligently writes down every half-heard word the man on the other line speaks before bidding him farewell. it’s not until he reads over the message again that the sleep still resting on his eyelids finally disappears, replaced by wide eyes and a grin to match.
“xing,” he says, excitement building slowly as he scrambles back to the couch, throwing himself on top of the napping figure. “zhang yixing, wake up, you lazy sack of shit!”
luhan tries everything, from pinching the younger’s cheeks to tickling his sides, but it takes a prompt slap to his crotch for yixing to finally open his eyes with a groan.
“god fucking damn it, lu han, what,” he snaps, curling into a ball as he attempts to nurse his damaged goods.
“you got it,” luhan responds, words purposely vague.
“an unprovoked shot to the balls?” is the retort he receives, along with a kick to his abdomen, which he certainly deserves. “yeah, i got that.”
“no,” luhan emphasizes. “you. got. it.”
“i swear to god,” yixing growls, sitting up as he rubs his eyes. “if you don’t quit the act, i’m going to do more than slap your dick.”
“the paid internship,” luhan says finally, laughter spilling from lips parted by a smile. “you got it.”
“what?”
yixing gawks at luhan, mouth agape and eyes wide. he doesn’t move for a few seconds, and luhan counts down in his head just how many have passed before everything finally clicks.
seven, eight, nine...
“at interscope records? are you fucking kidding me?” yixing says finally in a burst of energy that luhan thinks should be impossible for anyone to have after being so rudely awakened.
but luhan just smiles, everything yixing needs for him to know the news is true written all over luhan’s face. yixing jumps up from the couch, dragging luhan along with him for an impromptu dance around the apartment that wakes their sleeping pup-show, named after a taiwanese singer luhan’s never heard of because he’s never listened to chinese pop in his entire life-and the previously silent apartment is now filled with raucous noise.
several minutes have passed before they’ve all settled down, and luhan pulls yixing into a tight embrace, his lips hovering beside yixing’s ear. when he speaks, his voice is so soft he’s sure that even if they were in a silent room full of people, yixing would be the only one to hear. “you did it, xing. i’m so proud of you.”
yixing’s hold on luhan’s waist tightens, and his response plasters a grin across luhan’s face. “it’s all thanks to you, my muse.”
and as luhan breaks the embrace only to capture yixing’s lips in the sweetest and most wholesome kiss he’s ever given in his life, luhan thinks he knows what true, pure happiness is. it’s loving someone, and being loved in return, in a relationship that’s unassuming, unselfish. it’s growing up together, achieving life goals together, moving in together, overcoming obstacles together, making love, fighting, making up, learning to communicate, learning from mistakes. it’s all the little things and all the big things and yixing is everything wrapped up in one, magnificent person. and luhan would have it no other way.
he’s spent the majority of their relationship always comparing them to other, more poetic things, but as the two of them waltz around the apartment to a song only the two of them can hear, luhan realizes that they are none of those things. they aren’t the wolf or the the moon it howls at, nor are they magnets or rocks or water or penguins. they’re yixing and luhan, two people so inexplicably and irrevocably in love that it simply cannot be compared to anything else.
and maybe they haven’t achieved their greatest dreams and goals yet, and perhaps they never will, but as long as they’ve got each other, luhan thinks, he wouldn’t have it any other way.