The Price Of Falling (I/V)
Title: The Price Of Falling
Pairing: Fanxing, Ninja!Xiuhan
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: (very brief) gorey descriptions, suicidal thoughts, explicit sexual acts
Length: ~45.1k
Summary: Mama!AU Yixing has never really been shown the limits of his healing, but this is it, this is a case where he can’t simply snap his fingers and turn things okay. He only realizes what that truly means when it’s too late.
A/N: Written for exoments. I never expected this story to get as long as it did (45k fml) but somehow the plot ran away with me. I'm eternally grateful to everyone who supported me through the craziness that was this story's creation process, encouraging me, listening to me whine and special thanks to Line for helping me with a lot of the initial plotting and getting this thing together, and my beta, my doiood, without whom this story (and I) would most likely have been a mess before the eventual submission (sorry that "No airport, tears" didn't make the final cut).
I hope you'll be able to enjoy this story!
The Price Of Falling
The smell of the hospital is familiar, enveloping him like an old friend as soon as he steps through the entrance doors, intensifying when they slide closed behind him automatically.
It’s a strong, overpowering scent of antiseptic, nearly drowning out all the weaker fragrances, but Yixing can still catch the underlying notes; the slightly sweet smell of sickness, the hint of coffee wafting from the break room, the faint, very faint, metallic tang of blood. Altogether it really isn’t a pleasant smell, even if one is only assaulted by the disinfectant, and the mixture Yixing detects certainly doesn’t make it better.
However, this smell is inherently linked to his work, and Yixing loves it for that. He doesn’t do anything stupid or sentimental like inhaling deeply to welcome a new day of work; his pace doesn’t quicken, and his already present smile doesn’t deepen. It’s a lot more subtle than that; a slight tensing of his muscles, a slight sharpening of his mind, thoughts already straying towards his patients.
He quickly makes his way towards the staff room. They do have an uniform at the hospital, plain shirts with a small geometric figure of cubes wound into each other-their hospital’s logo-embroidered onto the front and plain, dark pants, but since the whole atmosphere of the hospital is rather informal, all staff members are free to wear their own casual clothes to work if they prefer to. Thus the only thing left to do for Yixing is to shrug out of his jacket, take his lab coat from his locker and pull it on before he’s ready to head to his patients. It’s a well-known ritual to him how he gets ready to greet the day.
The hospital is located in a rural area, only a few houses scattered around its grounds, mostly surrounded by green fields. It’s a nice place to recover at. Though calling it a “hospital” is probably an exaggeration to begin with. The building is small, two floors, and they only have rooms for about twenty-five permanent residents, and that is if they’re cramming them together. It’s the only clinic in the radius of a few miles, and so they make do with what they have, patients and doctors alike. And in a way it's really all Yixing could ever wish for. Their days tend to be really busy, but Yixing can use his powers as a healer to help people in need, and he can't think of anything else he would want to do.
“Morning.” Junmyeon greets Yixing when the younger passes by him, a black clipboard pressed to his chest.
Junmyeon is barely more than a few years older than Yixing himself, but sometimes the brunette feels as if he catches a hint of something in the elder’s eyes that shouldn’t be there yet at his age. A hint of maturity and a suppressed burden that usually only comes to people over the years. It can’t be helped though, Yixing reasons. It’s probably a taxing task to be the owner of a hospital and the leading senior physician at such a young age. But most of the time Junmyeon manages to gloss over the burden with a juvenile smile, one or two jokes of really questionable quality, or a few encouraging words to the other staff members.
“There is one patient waiting in room 204 for you already. Seems like they’ve only sprained their ankle, but you should probably take a closer look at it,” Junmyeon explains, flipping through the papers on his clipboard, before lifting his gaze to Yixing. “There are a few other people already in line as well, so it seems like it might become a busy day for you. Don’t forget that fifteen is your limit,” he adds sternly, fixing Yixing with an uncharacteristically serious gaze. If there is one thing Junmyeon might care about even more than about his patients, it is about his staff members looking out for their own health as much as they are looking out for the health of their patients.
Yixing flashes his boss a smile that’s meant to be reassuring, already walking backwards slowly and moving further down the hallway. “I know, I know.”
“Don’t think I won’t throw you out and ban you from work for a few days if you exhaust your body too much by healing too many people!” Junmyeon threatens, but there isn’t really much force behind the words.
Yixing is reasonably sure his boss wouldn’t follow through on his threat either way, since he couldn’t stand seeing people suffer just because Yixing is not at work. The younger prefers to not take any risks though, so he calls back, “Don’t worry, I know the rules.”
The last thing he sees before turning around the corner at the end of the hallway is how Junmyeon shakes his head slightly, and he can almost hear the sigh the elder is heaving at how insolent his employees are.
Yixing walks into room 204 as instructed, greeting his patient with a wide smile on his lips.
---
The day starts exactly the same way his days always start, so Yixing doesn’t expect it to go any different as well. He has been working in the hospital for so long he can barely imagine a time where he hasn’t been in this building day in and day out, even though technically it hasn’t even been five years yet.
Days tend to always pass in a similar manner. Yixing is the only person gifted with healing powers within an estimated 200 miles radius, or at least the only one who’s known for his powers publicly, so even if the surrounding area isn’t populated by that many people, Yixing is constantly kept busy. If the locals weren’t in need of his help, there were always citizens from nearby villages or cities coming to the hospital, traveling just to get treated by Yixing.
Nonetheless, it’s unusual for there to be any sort of rush in the hospital. They are too far away from most houses for people to rush to them with emergencies, so it confuses Yixing a little to hear the commotion. His first thought is that some patient must have put the volume of their television set too high, and that the noises come from some sort of soap opera scene, blaring too loudly from the speakers. But then the sound of rapid steps approaches him, and Minseok skids to a halt in the doorway, looking stressed and out of breath-a stark difference to the air of composure the nurse usually carries himself with.
“You need to come immediately,” the elder gasps out between labored breaths, and the urgency of his whole demeanour makes Yixing drop what he is doing without second thought. They run down the hallways quicker than Yixing remembers running, ever since he tried to beat the unforgiving stopwatch of his PE teachers back in high school. He should probably be asking what happened, or why they are rushing like this. A million possibilities run through his mind, but the distance is too short for the words to form. Minseok stops in front of one of their normally unused emergency rooms and turns to gesture Yixing inside. The younger doesn’t even halt to gain his composure, too infected by the urgency of the other.
He leaps into the room, only to be rooted to the spot. A part of his brain wonders how he didn’t already notice anything on the way, smelled the strong scent or saw the shocked expressions of the people standing in the hallway right outside the door. He wonders why even now he doesn’t smell or hear anything; it’s like all his senses are flooded with too much input for anything to make it through to his consciousness. For the fraction of a moment, Yixing is too overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of the onslaught of impressions-horrible impressions-to catch up, and the healer finds himself caught in a heartbeat of hesitation.
Then he breaks through the haze with a gasp, and suddenly he hears all the agitated voices, the pained moaning; he smells the stench of burned flesh and the overwhelming metallic tang of blood. In any other situation Yixing might have felt like throwing up, but the horror at seeing the horribly disfigured person on the stretcher in front of him doesn’t even give nausea the chance to manifest or paralyze him. Instead his brain immediately kicks into overdrive, and suddenly time seems to move slower as Yixing rushes forward, shouting orders to make way for him.
When he is at the body’s side he notices blistered and black skin, but it’s difficult to tell at which parts the cause of discoloration is burned flesh, and where it’s simply dirt that’s tainted the colour; he takes in the abrasions and limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The person on the stretcher takes a shuddering breath and Yixing wonders how the man is still conscious with his body in such a horrible state.
But he doesn’t question anything, doesn’t ask what could have left the other in such a wrecked state; he doesn’t ask where he is coming from or who he is to begin with. Instead he takes a deep breath-skillfully ignoring the stench that burns in his nose-and summons as much power as he can from within himself. With his hands outstretched over the closest part of the disfigured man that he can reach, he pushes the energy out of his own body and wills it into the other’s.
For a moment they both seem to hold their breath; then the man’s head whips around to face Yixing. It seems almost impossible for him to still be attentive enough to be able to take note of Yixing’s existence at all, but for some reason he still manages to fix his gaze on the brunette. Yixing sees his stormy grey eyes widening into something akin to panic. It’s the only warning he gets, before the muffled groans and moans turn into outright screams. The man begins to struggle, but Yixing stops the nurses from rushing to hold the man down with a command bitten out between clenched teeth. Instead he guides the energy from his fingertips through the muscles beneath his hands, forcing them to relax, effectively rendering his patient motionless.
It doesn’t stop the screams though, and after what feels like an eternity but probably isn’t more than two minutes, the pained noises stop. Mending tissues back together, forcing cells to regenerate, muscles to reconnect and bones to grow back together, is a process that comes with a lot of pain, and Yixing can perfectly understand why the man fell unconscious.
Nothing in life comes without a price-Yixing had reasoned this a long time ago. It is nothing but a curious theory of his, trying to understand a little how his powers work. He has always imagined it as some sort of deal with the universe; he can give a bit of his own power, his own energy to help others heal faster. Still, it also meant that they’d have to experience the pain of the whole healing process, all within a few moments instead of drawn out over weeks or months. His theory is still lacking, and most likely it’s not the truth either way, but at least it is a semblance of an explanation to him concerning powers that are otherwise unexplainable.
It isn’t as if he is alone, as if he is the only one with special powers. There are others like him, other wielders, but there are powers that are more common, like those linked to controlling elements. Then there are powers that are rarer, like his healing, so it has been mostly up to him to come up with answers to questions his books don’t know any answers to. Only a few general things are commonly known; every wielder has a distinctly shaped birthmark, like some kind of emblem. It is the source of a wielder’s power, and wielder of the same kind of power bear the same birthmark, though the place where it is located varies for each individual.
Yixing’s mark is located on the inner side of his right upper arm, close to his elbow, displaying the stylized head of a unicorn. It is the shape every healer carries. Whenever he uses his powers, he can feel his birthmark resonate. Not painfully, not even as a dull throbbing, or a source of subtle heat. Rather it makes him be acutely aware of the mark, like a focus point for controlling his powers, or rather as if it forcefully pulls Yixing’s attention towards it.
As long as the body beneath his fingertips isn’t fully healed yet, the mark won’t be satisfied. It’s the combination of this itch and Yixing’s unwillingness to let any patient remain with any type of pain that make healing be like an addiction for him, something he can’t just stop once he started. Then again, perhaps it’s more parts his stubbornness than the pull of the birthmark that makes him turn a blind eye to his own limits.
Uncaring of the reasons, Yixing keeps pushing his energy into the body of his patient-he doesn’t know the man, doesn’t know his name, but from the moment that Yixing stepped into the room, this man turned into his patient-even long after the other has fallen unconscious. Yixing loses all track of time; he doesn’t hear or see anything else. In his world there is only him, the man on the stretcher, and the flow of energy between them.
And yet it seems like there’s always more tissue to be healed, more bones to be mended. He started from the deepest layer he could reach and tried to work his way out, but it feels as if he’s running on a treadmill-running and running, but the view around him doesn’t change. Still, he single-mindedly keeps going, grimly determined to reach the fleeting finishing line, even if every time he thinks he’s getting close, it moves the slightest bit further away.
But he’s stubborn, so very stubborn.
He has blocked out all noises around him, so at first it doesn’t register when he hears his name being called. It’s just another distraction that keeps him from reaching his goal, so his brain automatically filters the sound out. It’s only when he feels a hand on his shoulder that he notices that someone seems to be trying to get his attention, but he can’t have that. Instead of turning or acknowledging the calls, he shrugs the hand off as a sign that whoever is bothering him should leave him alone while he’s working.
However the person is insistent, the hand returning to his shoulder no matter how many times Yixing shrugs it off. At one point it grips him tightly, shaking him. The motion is annoying, and it breaks through Yixing’s concentration-it would have made him angry if he hadn’t been so focused on his healing. The voice sounds agitated by now as well, even bordering on angry with its shouts.
Then, all of a sudden-though he should have seen it coming, with how the intensity of the gestures meant to get his attention had increased bit by bit-there are arms wound around his middle. Yixing struggles, tries to fight the person who is holding him tight and dragging him away from his patient, but it’s useless. He flails, reaches his arms out in a futile attempt to hold onto something, anything, while at the same time emitting agitated grunts and shouts for the other to let him go, that he has to get back inside to continue his healing.
When he’s dragged through the door frame and out into the hallway he sees nurses immediately rush into the room to take care of the unconscious male he left behind on the stretcher. Yixing thinks he even sees a doctor enter, but he doesn’t particularly care. All he cares about is to break out of the hold of the person he has identified as Junmyeon by now, so that he can resume his task, but Junmyeon is unrelenting. He holds Yixing in a tighter grip than the younger would ever have expected his boss to be capable of. “Come back to your senses, Yixing! You’ve already passed your limit!” the elder shouts, turning Yixing in his hold so he can look him in the face. “It won’t help anyone if you kill yourself while trying to save him!”
Junmyeon shakes him by the shoulders, as if to wake him from sleep. “You’ve already done enough for his life to no longer be in danger. You can’t heal him completely in one sitting, your powers are not strong enough for that! Goddamn it Yixing, learn your limits already!”
It registers with Yixing how odd the words are, coming from Junmyeon. After all, it’s usually the elder who forgets to look after himself with how much he’s looking after others. But it’s that thought that breaks him from his trance, and suddenly Yixing notices how his hands are shaking, and it doesn’t take more than that for his body to suddenly give in.
He gasps as his knees suddenly give way, and he crumbles to the ground as if all of his power has been drained within a second. Junmyeon lets out a surprised grunt as he tries to catch the younger, but the unexpected weight of Yixing is too much for him and they stumble to the ground together.
Junmyeon manages to soften Yixing’s fall, so that he only sacks onto his knees, not collapsing head first, arms still caught in Junmyeon’s hands. A shiver wracks through Yixing’s body. His perception feels strangely dull, as if the signals from all senses of his have to pass through a layer of cotton first before reaching his brain. He does however feel one of Junmyeon’s hands cradle his jawline, thumb soothing over his cheek while the other grips his shoulder to keep him upright, the touch comforting. There are black spots dancing through his vision, and Yixing wonders briefly whether he’s about to pass out.
Counting his breathes carefully, Yixing tries to calm his racing heart, at the same time keeping the sickness of his stomach at bay and listening to Junmyeon’s soothing words. It proves to be a difficult task, so he closes his eyes to focus better.
Twenty… twenty one…twenty two…
He makes it up to thirty. Then there is a touch to his shoulder that can’t come from Junmyeon, because the elder’s hands haven’t moved from where they’re brushing Yixing’s cheek calmingly and holding him up by his shoulder. Cracking his eyes open, Yixing has to blink a few times before his field of vision finally swims back into focus. He notices that the black spots are gone, and that he’s no longer shivering, but a bone deep weariness has settled into his body in its stead.
When he lifts his head he’s greeted with the sight of soft, honey coloured hair and wonderfully warm, brown eyes, looking worried in a face that is bunched up in a slight frown. Recognition immediately flashes through Yixing, but when he tries to mouth the name that jumps onto his lips, only a gust of air comes out, no real sounds.
He knows Luhan. They used to meet up, perhaps they could even have been called friends, before Yixing got too busy at the hospital to do anything but work or sleep. Sometimes he misses just lying out in the grass with Luhan at his side, studying the clouds, or sitting together over a cup of tea in their village’s tea house or at a café in the nearby city. But Luhan still smiles at him with friendliness, still invites him out with seemingly endless patience for how often Yixing declines the offer, so Yixing reasons he’s okay with the way things are at the moment.
When Luhan notices that Yixing’s eyes have focused on him, his lips stretch into a tentative smile. “Hello, Yixing,” he greets, and it is such a bizarre thing to say in a situation like this, that Yixing feels like chuckling, but only manages a weak smile.
“Hey, Luhan,” he whispers, and this time his vocal chords actually cooperate with him.
He hears Junmyeon heave a sigh of relief. “Thank god you’re back to your senses.” A flicker of confliction darts over his expression. Most likely he’s debating whether to chide Yixing right there and then, but he decides against it, instead flashing a small smile at Yixing that’s supposed to be reassuring. “How do you feel?”
“I’m okay,” he croaks out, the weakness in his voice belying his words instantly.
If the way Junmyeon’s eyebrows knit together is any indication, the other isn’t believing him in the least bit. Trying to prove his point, Yixing makes as if to get up, but he doesn’t stand a chance against his boss’ tight grip.
“Don’t strain yourself. You’re off from work for the rest of the day. You’re lucky Luhan stayed around because he wanted to to know whether the patient would be fine.”
Yixing turns his head look at the Luhan in surprise. “You…?” he starts, but lets his voice trail off when he realizes that the words to voice his question won’t form a proper sentence in his mind.
However the other seems to understand him nonetheless and nods. “Yes, I found him out in the fields, when I was passing by coincidentally, so I took him here as quick as I could.”
That’s good, Yixing wants to say. Without your telekinesis it probably wouldn’t have been possible to get him to the hospital in time. But Junmyeon speaks before Yixing can muster the strength to, interrupting his and Luhan’s conversation. “That’s not important now though. The main thing is, since Luhan’s here, he can take you home, Yixing. You need sleep now, more than anything else. Sleep for as long as you have to. If you feel the slightest hint of exhaustion remaining after you wake up, stay at home tomorrow. Do you understand me?”
The last sentence is voiced with a stern emphasis, a slight frown on Junymeon’s face, and it’s a sign of how exhausted Yixing is that he easily let’s go of his protests and simply nods with a sigh.
There are a few quick, hushed words exchanged between Luhan and the hospital’s CEO which Yixing’s tired mind can’t quite catch, then the honey-haired male bends down to Yixing’s eye level again, flashing him a bright smile.
“Okay Yixing, we better get going. I’ll take you home,” he announces brightly, as if the worry in his face just a few minutes prior was just an illusion. “Can you stand up?”
Yixing nods without even knowing if he actually is capable of standing with his muscles feeling like jelly. It takes a lot of effort to get his legs to cooperate, and Junmyeon’s helping hands half stabilizing him, half pulling him up. However Yixing does makes it to his feet, although his footing is everything but steady.
It only takes Luhan one glance at how he sways to crouch down, back facing Yixing. “Get on, I’ll carry you.”
The younger hesitates-he hasn’t gotten a piggyback ride since he was twelve, but then he thinks about the distance from the hospital to his flat, and swallows his pride. As soon as he’s settled, Luhan gets up, lifting one hand in a parting gesture. Junmyeon sees them off with wishes for Yixing to rest well and a smile that doesn’t quite manage to conceal his inner turmoil.
The air outside of the hospital is a welcome change with its freshness, and Yixing deeply inhales the scents of early spring. It’s still cool, the weather only just starting to warm up; Spring is coming late this year. Luhan talks to Yixing throughout their journey back to Yixing’s home, seemingly never running out of topics to talk about even when Yixing can hardly muster more than an affirmative hum or a few weak one-sentence answers here and there. It’s nice, he concludes and even in his exhausted state he can appreciate the sound of Luhan’s smooth voice.
“Oh, and Minseok has a new coffee machine. We talked about getting it for a long time, because it’s rather on the expensive side, but let's face it, there was no way I could deny him. And well, his birthday was right around the corner either way.” Luhan turns his head to look at Yixing with expectant eyes. “He makes even better coffee now. You should come over some time to try it.”
There it is again, one of Luhan’s endless invitations. Amazed by the elder’s unrelenting perseverance, he finds himself nodding slightly. “I’d like to.”
His voice is barely more than a whisper, but Luhan still smiles at him brightly in response, turning to face the front again as they continue making their way down the winding path that leads to the building Yixing’s flat is located in. Once they reach it, Luhan accompanies Yixing inside, ignoring all protests of the younger that he’ll be able to manage. It earns him a skeptically raised eyebrow as Yixing attempts to take a step by himself after Luhan has put him down.
The attempt is quickly put to an halt when he loses his balance, almost wiping the bowl he uses for his keys and the little unicorn figurine his mother had gotten him when he moved out for college from the cupboard in his hallway with flailing arms. However he doesn’t fall because Luhan is quick in catching him with his powers, setting the younger back upright before moving to support him.
When Luhan helps him into bed, Yixing is overcome by a wave of gratefulness. He doesn’t deserve to be cared for like this with how often he declines Luhan’s invitations. The honey-haired male immediately waves off his gratitude when he voices it, claiming that it’s no problem at all. Once Luhan is convinced that Yixing is all settled in, he takes his leave, but not before writing down his cellphone number on a piece of paper and placing it on Yixing’s bedside table.
“I bet you’ve already lost my number,” the elder explains with a grin. “If anything’s up, just give me a call and I’ll be right over.”
“Thank you for your help, Luhan,” Yixing replies, eyelids already drooping. It is getting harder to stay awake with every passing second, and Luhan must notice because he moves to draw the curtains closed before heading towards the door frame.
“Sleep well, Yixing,” he says in farewell, then he is gone, silently shutting the door to Yixing’s bedroom behind him.
The brunette hears the elder’s footsteps receding in the hallway, then the sound of his front door being pulled closed, followed by silence. The only noise he hears is the soft ticking of the clock on his bedside table. It’s a weird contrast to Luhan’s buzzing happy presence just a few minutes ago. The absence of anything to occupy his mind makes Yixing realize that he hasn’t been forced to reflect his own situation yet, how close he probably had been to passing the point of no return back there in the hospital. Most likely it should scare him how his powers left him helpless and essentially powerless now, but he’s too exhausted to dwell on the thought.
It strikes him as odd that it’s still broad daylight outside and he’s lying in his bed already, but even without the curtains blocking out the sun it would probably not have taken more than a few seconds to have him fall sound asleep.
---
Yixing is back at the hospital two days later.
The previous day he woke up to the setting sun, but when he looked at his phone he discovered that it wasn’t the evening of the same day that Luhan had brought him home, but rather the day after. He was half in wonderment and half in shock when had he realized that he had slept for more than 26 hours; he couldn’t recall ever having slept even half that long. It was a definite sign of what toll the healing had taken on his own body when he still managed to fall back asleep that evening, and slept until the shrill sound of his alarm clock cut through his sleep.
Yixing already texted Junmyeon the day prior, reassuring him that he was fine after sleeping the exhaustion off, and that he would come to work as planned the next day. So really, he expects it when Junmyeon is by his side mere seconds after he has entered the building. Sometimes Yixing wonders how the older manages to always know what is happening at any given place in his hospital, but he chooses not to delve deeper into the topic.
“How are you feeling?” is Junmyeon’s first tentative question as he falls into step beside Yixing, the younger heading for the staff room as per usual.
“Fine.” He flashes a smile, complete with dimple, and it seems to put the other a bit more at ease. “All I needed was a little sleep.”
Junmyeon hums a little, though it’s not clear whether to signal that he’s listening even while he’s looking over the documents he has in his hands or whether to express his agreement. Yixing is just about to open his mouth to continue with harmless small talk when Junmyeon turns around and grabs his arm, effectively stopping him mid stride. The elder’s eyes are intent as he fixes Yixing in place with a stern gaze.
“I hope you understood how dangerous the situation was for you.” It’s weird how even though Junmyeon is smaller than Yixing, it feels like the elder is towering over him at this moment. “I don’t even want to imagine how things might have ended if you hadn’t been stopped. Let this be a lesson-every power has its limits, and yours can very well kill you if you’re not careful. Do you understand me?”
Yixing nods meekly, feeling like a child being scolded by its parents. If he’s being honest, that somehow is what Junmyeon is to him and to pretty much all of the hospital’s employees. A friend, for sure, but a parental one at that.
“I don’t want anything like that to happen again or I’ll make sure you’re no longer allowed to treat patients on your own.”
There is a protest at the tip of Yixing’s tongue, that he is a fully grown adult who can perfectly judge situations himself, but he swallows the sentences. He has only just proven that he is not as reliable when it comes to these matters as he might claim to be, so the only choice he has left is to accept Junmyeon’s words head-on.
At seeing Yixing agree so readily, Junmyeon lets out a breath that almost sounds like a relieved sigh, lowering the hands that had been holding Yixing at his shoulders. “Okay. I just wanted to make that clear.” Junmyeon almost sounds apologetic as he starts to walk again. “I’m glad to hear that you’re recovered now.”
This time it’s Yixing’s turn to hum, and when Junmyeon flashes him a smile, he knows that the situation is sorted. For now. “So, how is he doing?” Yixing asks, falling back into business mode.
“He’s alive, thanks to you.” The statement makes a shiver run down Yixing’s spine because in the single-mindedness of his healing he hadn’t taken the time to consider how serious the man’s injuries had actually been. “He’s been assigned room 125, and he’s holding up well as far as we can tell. He doesn’t talk much, just sleeps a lot, as is to be expected I guess. I’ve postponed all your appointments for the next few days. He will need all your attention from the looks of it.”
---
When Yixing walks into room 125 it is as if he sees Wu Yifan for the first time. Consciously sees him for the first time that is, and not just as a charred, broken body that he has to patch up. When he’s healing, he tends to have a tunnel view, unable to see left and right from his focus. He does, however, remember the other’s eyes. For some reason that gaze he had fixed Yixing with when the brunette healed him is one of the few impressions still clear in his mind from that day, a sharp memory amidst a sea of fuzziness regarding the other events.
Yifan is bandaged up, the white material covering a big part of his arms and half of his head. A few pink patches spread across the skin that is visible, but they truly are no comparison to the angry red, blistered skin Yixing recalls from the other day. He’s connected to an IV, and a few other machines Yixing has never seen being used before during the time he has been working at the hospital so far. All in all Yifan still looks battered, but he also looks infinitely better than Yixing remembers him looking on the day of his admission.
“Hello Mr. Wu,” he greets with a gentle smile playing on his lips.
Yifan recoils slightly when he sees Yixing approach, a flicker of recognition running through his slightly widened grey eyes telling the healer that Yifan still remembers him as well, from when their eyes had locked a second before he started screaming. The reaction is understandable, probably downright instinctual as the sight of Yixing must be linked to pain for the other. It has Yixing halting his steps automatically, hands raised in order to showcase harmlessness. “It’s okay, I’m the healer,” he explains, turning his right arm so that Yifan can see his birthmark, the unicorn shape supporting his words. “I want to help you.”
“I know.” With a slow exhale the other male relaxes back into his half-sitting position on the bed. The action looks weirdly forced, as if it takes a lot of effort for him to ease the tension from his body. “I’m sorry.”
“No no, it’s okay, no need to apologize.” Yixing waves off Yifan’s concern. “I guess our first meeting was a little ill-fated. Let’s start over. Hello, I’m Zhang Yixing.” He bows a little, holding the medical file that Junmyeon handed him that contains not only the details of Yifan’s injuries but also a copy of the other’s ID-slightly charred around the edges but still surprisingly readable-to his chest. “There’s no need for titles though, no Healer Zhang, no Dr. Zhang. Please simply call me Yixing.”
“Yifan,” the male responds, but despite the curt statement he doesn’t sound unfriendly. There rather is an edge of exhaustion to his demeanour.
“It’s nice to meet you, Yifan. I would like to continue the healing. Is that okay?”
The other hesitates for the blink of an eye before he gives a small nod, eyes turning away from the healer to study the white blanket covering his legs instead. Taking it as a sign of consent, Yixing moves in to get started on his healing.
Up this close he notices that the short strands of hair looking out from the bandages around Yifan’s head barely contrast the fabric, their blond colour so light they almost seem white. It’s an unusual shade, to say the least, but Yixing doesn’t dwell on the matter. Instead he takes a deep breath, properly collecting himself, in contrast to the last time where he healed Yifan in a rush. His healing works better if he summons the power from within himself before pushing it out, letting it concentrate in his hands.
“I’m afraid this is going to hurt again. If it gets too bad, please tell me.” Yixing cautions when he places his hands over Yifan’s chest. The blond looks wary, but doesn’t object.
Yixing starts slow, his power tentatively probing Yifan’s body, slowly forcing it to regenerate itself. The places Yixing reaches still feel like a mess, and he can already notice the low prodding of his birthmark, but he’s prepared for what he finds this time.
Yifan lets out a pained gasp, his face screwing up in a frown, but no other noises escape him. The younger has half the mind to be impressed, but he’s too concentrated on working his healing to properly notice Yifan’s forceful, controlled breathing, or the way his fingers clench into the sheets. He only notices what a task it must have been for the other when he resurfaces from his concentration, drawing his hands back a bit jerkily, as if he’d been held in place by some invisible force, and sees the cold sweat covering Yifan’s forehead.
The moment he lifts his hands from the other male’s chest, Yifan exhales deeply in relief, as if he had been holding his breath. Guilt shoots through Yixing at the sight of how tightly Yifan has his eyes clenched together in pain, only slowly starting to relax. Perhaps I have overdone it a bit, he wonders, and when he takes a step back, only to notice that his legs are slightly swaying, he reasons that perhaps he should indeed have taken it a bit slower.
When he studies the other male, he doesn’t immediately see any improvements. The pink remains of the burns are perhaps the slightest bit lighter or smaller, but they are still very much present. Then again he focused on internal damage, and the injuries that are more severe. He knows for a fact that the leg of Yifan's that was broken is healed again, and that the big burn on Yifan’s shoulder that was bandaged up by the nurses has faded to a pale pink as well.
“I’m sorry if that was too painful,” the healer eventually speaks up, after Yifan seems to have collected himself, if his evened out breathing is anything to go by. “How do you feel now?”
The blond cracks open his eyes and blinks a few times, as if he is only just waking up from sleep and needs a moment to orient himself. Then he looks down at his arm, lifting it slightly to test the motion, before arriving at a verdict. “Better,” he notes, and the hint of awe in his voice makes Yixing wonder if the other has ever come into contact with a healer before. “I think,” he adds when he faces Yixing again.
The addition sounds weird to Yixing’s ears for the hesitation he hears in it, as if Yifan has a reason to doubt his own statement, but he doesn’t dwell on it.
---
He doesn’t find out what the reason for Yifan’s hesitation is until three days later. That’s how long it takes him to completely heal Yifan’s injuries. While it proves easy enough to mend the burns to a degree that makes them look harmless, it’s unexpectedly difficult to completely make them disappear, and it takes a lot of effort on both his and Yifan’s side.
More difficult than healing the blond's wounds though is to find out what caused them in the first place. While Yixing wouldn’t describe Yifan as necessarily closed off, there’s no denying that he is rather silent. Even when he usually answers Yixing’s questions, he adamantly refuses to talk about his injuries and how they came to be. Reasoning that it isn’t his place to prod, Yixing isn’t very persistent in trying to get answers from the taller.
Yixing has reasoned that the third day should be the last of their healing sessions. Yifan is completely bandage free at this point, but something is off about him when Yixing walks into the room. Yifan’s posture is more hunched than usual, shoulders slightly tensed. He looks as if he’s expecting a blow, or as if he’s caught in the middle of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Yixing is left clueless however as to what the reason might be, so he chooses to approach the other the way he usually does. The differences in Yifan’s posture are minimal, really, but they still puzzle the healer. When asked about it, the elder just shakes his head, indicating that there’s nothing bothering him, and it’s the first time he doesn’t answer a question of Yixing’s that isn’t related to how he got his injuries.
Figuring that he can still try to get Yifan to talk when he’s done with healing, Yixing quickly switches from his mostly one-sided attempts at small talk to assuming his usual position besides the elder’s bed. It’s almost a routine by now, the way Yifan takes a deep, calming breath, closing his eyes in preparation before nodding for Yixing to start.
At first the healing works out exactly the way Yixing expected it too, the way it’s always worked out. Yifan’s body has recovered greatly in the last few days, leaving only a few superficial burns and a torn ligament in his shoulder.
These injuries are easy enough for Yixing to heal, and he’s almost about to retract, when something catches his attention. With all of Yifan’s injuries, something has constantly been off in Yifan’s body, his internal equilibrium, the way all parts of his body functioned together being disturbed. That should have changed the moment Yixing healed the last of his wounds, but strangely enough something still irks the brunette.
He himself has troubles explaining, or even understanding in the first place, how his power enables him to perceive someone else’s body. It’s a feeling of rightness versus wrongness much more than a view of muscles, bones and organs and their functions. When his power prods through his patients’ bodies it’s automatically drawn to the places that are off, that aren’t “whole”. By now Yixing is able to roughly translate the feelings into injuries, being able to estimate what sort of wound he just healed.
What he encounters in that moment though is different from anything he has come across so far, and his brain short circuits for a moment as it fails to come up with any explanation for the feeling. It’s not necessarily a physical injury-a broken bone, a torn ligament, a burn or anything similar; Yixing is sure he has healed all of these-but it doesn’t feel the way sicknesses feel either.
He remotely registers how his eyes widen first in surprise before narrowing in an expression of determination, intent on identifying and removing the source of the imbalance from Yifan’s system. All of his attempts at reaching the place where the uncomfortable feeling is coming from are futile however. Yixing feels like running against a wall, some kind of barrier keeping his powers from going through, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t push past it.
On the contrary, the barrier downright seems to swallow all the power Yixing pours into it, sucking it out of the younger like a black hole. The sensation is so foreign that it startles Yixing into pulling back with a gasp. His hands are shaking when he looks down at them, but he doesn’t know whether it’s a sign of shock or that he has exhausted himself again. He doesn’t care either way because now he has to attend to Yifan and find out what’s wrong.
The other looks eerily motionless, eyes still closed. No noises had come from him during the healing, nothing more than a small hitching of his breath here and there.
Yifan looks better. He looks healed. All the bandages are gone by now, his skin an even colour, smooth looking texture. And yet Yifan looks as if he’s still in pain.
Yixing’s brain kicks into overdrive as a million thoughts and questions run together. What was that weird sensation? If all of Yifan’s physical injuries are healed and he isn’t sick, what part is missing from making him whole? What is he supposed to do now? Calmness is the most important thing now, he reasons. Even if his insides are in a turmoil of uncertainties, he can’t let that show in front of his patient. As a healer he must be the calming influence, a beacon of security.
How to tell Yifan? He wonders, because he can’t simply go and tell the other “There’s something wrong with you and I don’t know what,” even if it’s the truth.
His musings are interrupted by a silent voice however. “Can you do something about it?”
Unnoticed by Yixing the blond has turned to face him, and Yifan’s voice sounds strangely defeated when he speaks, his words less like a question and more like a statement.
“Do something about what?” Yixing asks cautiously, studying Yifan with his head tilted slightly to the side. He is reasonably sure that he didn’t voice any of his thoughts out loud about why he suddenly withdrew from healing, but he can never be one hundred percent sure.
It’s then that Yifan’s eyes that had been staring at some point past Yixing’s shoulder move to lock gazes with the younger for the first time that day. There is a sense of understanding in those grey orbs and suddenly Yixing knows; he just knows that Yifan is aware of what is wrong with himself, what throws his system out of kilter.
“My powers. Can you bring them back?”
Yixing needs a moment to comprehend the words. Powers? Bringing Yifan’s powers back? The concept sounds weird to the brunette, because powers are something you either have or you don’t have. But Yifan looks at him with a gaze that seems to say ‘You’re a healer after all. You can heal this as well, can’t you?’ and his expression is dead serious. It would explain why the sensation was so unfamiliar, the logical part of his brain supplies, and it takes a bit for the rest of him to catch up to the meaning behind Yifan’s words.
The other is a power wielder, just like Yixing or Junmyeon or Luhan.
“What is your power?” Yixing finds himself asking, without even really meaning to.
“Flight.” Something tugs at Yifan’s mouth, but Yixing can’t tell whether it’s a smile or a frown, happiness or longing. “But I can’t even so much as lift myself a centimeter into the air right now.”
“May I have a look at your birthmark?” He asks, unconsciously motioning at his own arm to indicate what he’s talking about. Even though he has no idea how to approach the whole topic, he figures that the birthmark is a good point to start at.
Yifan simply nods and turns so that his back faces Yixing before pulling up his shirt until it’s hanging around his neck, all of his back uncovered. The sight makes Yixing gasp, and not because Yifan has a nice back-he does, broad shoulders, strong muscles beneath smooth skin-but rather because he sees the birthmark on Yifan’s left shoulder blade.
He has never seen one in reality because the power of flight is a rare one and pretty much everyone who possesses it ends up working for the military, but Yixing still knows that the birthmark should have the form of a dragon. What he finds on Yifan’s back might have once been a dragon, but if Yixing’s hadn’t known what to look for, he isn’t sure he would have recognized it. The dark lines of the birthmark are faded, and there are angry red streaks breaking through them, effectively distorting the shape.
These streaks are burn marks, looking very much as if someone had pressed a hot iron stick on the birthmark over and over again-however Yixing knows that something as ordinary as hot metal couldn’t have been the cause for these wounds. The faint lines of the birthmark have downright been broken apart, the red wilts running through them, instead of running over them the way they are supposed to if the skin of the birthmark were to be affected.
Yixing is glad that the elder has his back turned to him and thus can’t see him. He knows that shock must be written all over his face, and that is not exactly the sort of expression he as a professional should wear around his patient.
With a tentative movement he reaches out to let his fingertips ghost over the birthmark. When he comes into contact with Yifan’s skin the other flinches, and Yixing immediately draws his hand back as if he had been burned, muttering apologies over and over again.
“It’s okay,” Yifan interrupts him, turning his neck slightly so he can look at Yixing. “The touch was just unexpected. Please go ahead.”
Yixing simply nods, and as soon as Yifan is facing the other way again he makes another attempt at examining the birthmark. This time his touch is firmer, more resolution than hesitation, and Yifan inhales sharply when Yixing runs his fingers over one of the burns but doesn’t complain.
The healer takes his time looking at the mark, letting small portions of his power escape from the tips of his fingers to test it out, but he comes up empty handed. The burns don’t seem to be normal burns that he can simply heal the way he healed all of Yifan’s other injuries, so he eventually has to admit defeat, drawing back with what he hopes is a mostly soundless sigh. Even if there is a way for him to heal the burns, he has already used up too much power that day to stand a chance, he reasons.
“You can put your shirt back on,” he instructs, and while the other does as he's been told Yixing wracks his brain how to best approach the matter now. “I must be honest with you, I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he confesses when Yifan is once again regarding him. As much as he dislikes seeing the flicker of disappointment in the other’s eyes he reasons that it’s the best to stick to the truth. “But I will do my best to look into the matter. There must be some way to fix this, and I’ll find it.”
As if to emphasize the statement Yixing flashes a smile that’s brighter than the degree of optimism he’s feeling right then. He can’t quite discern if Yifan can tell, but the blond nods in understanding either way.
---
The first thing Yixing does after leaving Yifan’s room is to look for Junmyeon. While the other surely is more experienced in terms of medicine and where to find knowledge about difficult cases, the healer's main intention is to sort out the logistics surrounding Yifan’s situation.
Expecting that day to mark the end of his healing, Yixing already preemptively told his boss that they would be able to release Yifan by the next day. That is a statement he has to rectify now, because even if all of Yifan’s physical injuries have been healed-with the exception of the persistent burn marks on his birthmark-there still is no way Yixing can let him be discharged with a clear conscience.
They don’t often keep patients at the hospital for a longer time period, since so far Yixing has mostly been able to quickly help the patients with more severe injuries and those who weren’t mortally ill. Of course there always are a few exceptions, so it isn’t unheard of for patients to be admitted for weeks or even months at times, it’s just very uncommon.
It was obvious from the look in Yifan’s eyes when he had locked gazes with Yixing that whatever had happened to his birthmark has left it’s marks on Yifan, painful marks, and Yixing doesn’t let any of his patients go before they are fully healed. He wouldn’t dare calling himself a proper healer if he did.
Getting Junmyeon to agree to let Yifan stay, even if it might be for an indefinite time turns out to be no problem at all. On the contrary, the elder immediately starts thinking up way how they might be able to help the blond with feeling comfortable at the hospital, or where they might find knowledge on how to heal him.
Yixing ends up spending the rest of the afternoon in the library, on Junmyeon’s “advice”-really, order would have been the more fitting term-and he leafs through half a dozen books, but in the end he still comes up empty handed.
It’s only the first day. He reasons when he goes home that day. I still have a ton of possibilities to discover just the book I need, the one that contains the right information.
( ★★)