Muses and Blues ( 2/2 )
Title: Muses and Blues, part II
Rating: pg
Pairing: Lay//Tao
Warnings: mentions of Yixing's former high school girlfriend, language
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, written just for fun.
Summary: Yixing is reaching out to hold the precious things that glisten on his horizon, the most important of which are his dreams.
A/N: written for Orange Unicorns, the Zhang Yixing fic collection 2015! This is the theme song: Gaeko's "과거는 갔고 미래는 몰라"
"You made up your mind yet?"
It's only been four days since Yixing saw him last, but it’s felt more like two weeks. Yichao disappeared again over the weekend so Yixing hasn't had a night off since the beginning of the month. His grandma has been hovering in the shop even when it isn't her shift because she's worried about the rash of petty thefts in the neighborhood, she claims.
Yixing's heard the rumors about equipment and cash wads going missing too, but somehow it feels like it's just an excuse for Granny to keep an eagle eye on things, himself included. It's like she can sense he's scheming something, and she knows that all she has to do is raise her eyebrows at him to get him to reconsider his crazy idea. Except this time it's not his crazy idea, Yixing thinks with a wry scowl that’s two parts contempt and one part affection.
"This is all your fault, you know." He greets Tao with a whack at the brim of his hat, the swipe of his hand knocking the crown off center.
"Hey! What did I do? Oh...has--has Han ge been around again, or?"
"Nah, nothing like that, kid. Take a seat~" Yixing waves at the desk and Tao leans his hips against the edge next to him, sagging into his side. "No, my Granny has just been circling like a suspicious hawk all week. It's like, she just knows..."
"Are you afraid of your own grandmother?" Tao tips his head back to laugh and Yixing can tell from the lightness of his tone that he's just joking.
"No," he denies in the least defensive voice he can muster, and wishes it were completely true. "No, just..."
"You're getting antsy," Tao declares, returning his whack with a smack to Yixing’s bare forehead. "Which means you're not gonna get the itch out of your system until you do something about it."
"And what do you recommend for my itch, Doctor?" Yixing winks and gets Tao back with a sneaky poke to his rib.
"Hey--stop that! I recommend a trip. Get some fresh air, a change in climate. A weekend in Shanghai should do the trick!"
"I see, I see..." Yixing taps his fingers together to keep his feet from jostling the whole desk with the current of anxiety that's running through his core.
"Come on, ge. One night, two days. We can sleep on the overnight train so we don't have to pay for a room. I'll buy all your food in compensation for your services. All you have to bring is you and your guitar."
"It's a little more complex than that..." Yixing glances at the calendar and the little red circle surrounding his grandma's upcoming appointment date at the cardiologist's. It's only days away now, the same day of Tao's audition. He's not sure who fears those visits to the clinic worst or leaves the most relieved--the one with the heart condition, or the one taking care of her.
"What is? Minding the shop? Ge, I got that all figured out. If that little friend of yours isn't available I got Han ge to promise he'd come and help out."
"Really now?" The image of the dorm VP lounging behind their scarred laminate desk makes Yixing smile. Business would be booming with Lu Han in charge, all the neighbor ladies coming in for a peek at the handsome stranger who looks like a prince from a TV drama. "So you got permission from school, then? To miss evening classes on Friday and stay out overnight?"
"Well...sort of..." Tao's thumb ring catches on the hem of his pullover when he twists his fingers in the soft wool. "I mean, Han ge and the other seniors said they'd cover for me, and we don't have anything essential that day I'd be missing out on."
"Taozi, Taozi, you're just--!" Yixing laughs, and Tao's smile is delighted as if he already knows that he's won and they're both going to Shanghai on Friday. He probably thought he’d already won the whole competition the moment he saw the flier, Yixing realizes when Tao crushes his ribs in an impulsive hug.
"Even my parents would approve of it I think, if I had been able to get ahold of them. They're in Europe though, some business thing," Tao clarifies before Yixing can ask, his gaze honest and grave and unwavering. "Ge, I'm going to this audition whether you come with me or not.”
"I think you should still let your homeroom teacher know, Taozi. So they don't worry. They're responsible for your safety, and--"
"I'll call," Tao cuts him off with a grunt. He doesn't say goodbye before the door slams behind him and Yixing's last words die in his throat as he watches Tao's shadow retreat down the sidewalk.
"Welcome to Zhang's," he sighs as loud as he can force his gravelly voice into responding as a group of teenage kids crowds into the entrance. They're probably in high school too, though their pimply chins and squinty eyes make them look a decade less mature than Tao's clear eyed confidence and the electric purple of his eye makeup implies. Yixing wonders if they let him wear cosmetics to school, but maybe they're lax with the dress code at a special academy like that. School regulations sure haven't cramped Tao's style with regards to his hair.
"We want Avengers," the kid in front says, elbowing aside a taller boy so that Yixing's gaze rests on him. "Whichever one you have. Or all of 'em."
"That's 28 yuan," Yixing says, handing them a disc from the rack of hundreds behind his desk. "If you're gonna smoke, then use the room at the end on the left." He points down the hall as the short kid in front snatches the DVD in the plastic jewel case from his hand.
"We're not gonna smoke, okay." He hands over the money in crumpled bills and several 1 yuan coins.
"Have fun." Yixing pockets the money and hands them the key to room #12 at the end of the hall anyway. It's easier to take precautions than it is to clean up after a mistake in judgement, after all. Not that he hasn't made his fair share of mistakes, like scarring the bottom of his grandma's copper kettle because he forgot it was on the stove and let it boil dry.
But Yixing tries to think through his options and stay ahead of the game when it comes to important things, or anything that might affect his future, really. That includes everything from letting a bunch of kids make a mess in their viewing room, to his carefully considered maneuvers to continue following his own dream, his dream of spreading Chinese music through the whole world and lifting it up as something beautiful and shining.
While he doesn't want to encourage Tao to deprioritize things as important as his studies and his family's wishes, Yixing would be lying if he denied the magnetic pull the force of music exerts on him, drawing him deeper towards the flame that burns at the core of artistic passion. It's a force too big for it to stem from himself--that's what Yixing wishes he could explain to Tao when he tries to talk about where his drive and motivation come from.
Inspiration is a beautiful thing when the notes are unfolding from his heart and lacing his fingers, his flesh, with the essence of life around him. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when his gift demands that he sacrifice the people most important to him to continue his pursuit.
He had said goodbye to Mei not because he’d thought she'd slow him down or get in the way. Yixing had thought the opposite, actually. His first love was his muse in another form, but she'd fanned the flames of inspiration in his core long before he'd met Tao. She'd been Yixing’s unfaltering support when he'd lost his parents and his direction in life, too.
Yixing had only said goodbye to his fragrant flower in Changsha because he hadn't wanted to limit her. He hadn’t wanted to cloister her perfume to the corner of their secret garden while she waited for him to return with a pocketful of the success he's convinced he'll find someday. Yixing knows deep down that he’ll make it too, he just doesn't know when, or if it'll be too late by then. It would have been unfair to Mei to keep hanging on to her. It would have been unfair to the next person who learns to love her like the treasure she is.
It would have been unfair to Yixing, too, if he'd had to balance the responsibility of a relationship with the demands of his quest. He still loves her, if he's honest with his heart, but it's not the kind of love meant to bind him to a firmly planted flower while the sun calls his leaves to branch out in another direction. In that sense, the accident and his subsequent move south hadn't been a bad thing, Yixing thinks. It had set him free to find his destiny--and to find Tao, who Yixing truly considers a gift regardless of how long or short a time he gets to keep his friend by his side.
These days Yixing just thinks of the good things that flow into his life as gifts on trial order, as blessings on loan he gets to keep just until their real recipient needs them back again, and he's okay with that. As long as he has music he has a way to find himself again, as well as a roadmap that will lead him to a greater understanding of humanity and the life he dwells in the midst of. Yixing doubts if he'll ever understand why he's still breathing and his parents aren't, or why the words to match his notes just drop from his tongue to his pen nib sometimes while not everyone can do that even if they try their best.
All he knows is that he owes a debt to the blood and the life in his veins, and the only way he knows how to repay that is by sharing his heart with lives around him, one smile and one chord on his guitar at a time. He only wishes he could share the deepest layers of warmth echoing in his heart with Tao because Tao is so incredibly special--so beautiful. But Yixing knows better than to try to hold onto a brilliance that will soon outshine the confines of their cozy cuddle piles on his grandma's dingy DVD room couches. Tao has his own direction that the sun is teaching him to stretch his limbs towards, anyway. Tao has posters of Fan Bingbing and a love song for the whole country.
When he thinks about it that way...well, maybe Taozi's right then. If he's bound and determined to succeed at that audition with or without Yixing's help, then doesn't Yixing owe him the best that he can give on his guitar? He owes Tao his best as his friend, and he owes it to himself and to the music. When he thinks about it that way, Yixing knows he's found the way forward. Even if Tao's teachers don't understand, Yixing's glad someone at his school does.
Mei would understand, Yixing thinks with a smile as he reaches for his guitar. He's got some practicing to do.
+++
The sun glares off the destination placard slotted in the plastic sign on the side of the train and Yixing's bag handles are sweaty in his palm. The weight of his guitar slung over his shoulders feels right though, and he keeps striding down the length of the platform in search of an employee to check his ticket. He's pretty sure he has the right platform, and the engine idling on the tracks and feeding vibrations up through the bricks into the pores of his metatarsals is the express line bound for Shanghai that Tao's set to board just after 4:00.
None of the faces peeling past his progress down the stone walkway look familiar, though. Yixing squints, searching the milling crowd of bodies buttoned into black wool and puffy down coats.
"Ge?"
The voice from behind has Yixing craning his neck over his shoulder before his feet can untangle themselves under his legs. He turns to face the person he's been looking for. "Tao! There you are. Been looking for you all over, kid."
"I've been here for an hour, when nobody else was here. You can't have been looking too long." Tao narrows his eyes over the lenses of his sunglasses as he removes them. Yixing reminds himself not to squint in the sun, and remembers what it is he forgot that's been rumbling with unease in his stomach since the tense subway ride over. It's true he hasn't been at the station long--he almost missed his second transfer on the metro and had to run up a few flights of stairs. The escalators in the subway had been closed for midday repairs before rush hour traffic picked up again close to the dinner hour.
"Sorry. At least I made it?" Yixing holds out his arms like he's a prize that Tao just won and gets to claim and keep safe forever. Tao just laughs, his boot heels peeling up from the pavement when his hips rock back on the bench planks.
"I'm hungry," Tao says. He pouts up at Yixing once his feet are firmly set on the ground again.
"I thought you were buying the food on this expedition." Yixing nudges his boot with his sneaker toe so Tao will scoot over to make room for him on the bench even though they're about to board the train.
"I am, but you got here so late we don't have time to pick up lunch boxes at the concessions." Tao shakes his head as he pulls Yixing to his feet with an impatient tug on his arm.
"Sorry."
"That's okay, maybe I shouldn't eat anything anyway. Fuck, I'm so nervous."
"Hey, it's gonna be great. You're great, I'm great!" Yixing spins Tao around to face him with a hand on his shoulder so he'll catch his playful wink. "Loosen up kid, we got this."
"Yeah, with you I know I can make it! Thank you for coming." Tao gives him a fierce smile. His chin doesn't wobble, even if his hands and knees are shaking like the platform's vibrating with the force of an earthquake now. "Let's find our seats. I need to find somewhere to smoke on the train."
"Ah, ah--" Yixing catches his wrist with his free hand and snatches Tao's pack of cigarettes away. He crushes them in his fist before tossing the ruined box into the nearest trash bin. "You have to sing. Water only, and then afterwards we'll have a banquet of food. Deal?"
"Deal," Tao mouths, though the music of his words gets lost in the noise of the PSA telling them to hurry and board the train in an orderly manner.
Their seats are next to each other in the third car. Tao reserved them ahead of time with Lu Han's help. He pulls on headphones and falls right to sleep with his head pillowed against the window sash and the rhythm of the tracks lulling his fears into slumber. Yixing stares ahead at the cigarette burns lined up like pearls on a necklace in the plush upholstery of the seat back in front of him. Mei had a long string of pearls she inherited from her grandmother. She wore them on her birthday every year, including the day Yixing had kissed her goodbye.
That was a long time ago though, or at least it feels far away from him in terms of calendar pages and counting down the moments until his next transition. Her smile embedded in the folds of his memory hasn't faded an iota, and that thought is a comfort as Yixing watches Tao's sleeping face through a string of careful blinks and tries to mentally review the chords he needs to play once they get there.
+++
They're sitting in the lobby at the broadcasting building several hours later. Yixing should be hungry by now even though he hadn't been when they boarded in the evening. His stomach isn't full of nervous squiggles, either. He just feels plugged into this steady stream of calm, submerged in a peaceful force that's flooding his system with too strong of a current for him to fight against.
He won’t try to fight it, though. He's always been grateful for the surge of focus that detaches him from his immediate environment and lets him delve into the music when he's getting ready to perform. Tonight is no different, though this time it's Tao who's got his dreams on the line and his heart beating in his mouth with tremors of determination fluttering at the doors of his lips.
"You doing okay, kid?" Yixing holds up the water bottle they've been sharing between them and filling up in the bathroom sink when it runs out. Tao nods, and squares his shoulders with a brave smile. The paper pinned to his chest identifying him as a registered participant lists his name, school, and registration number. They spelled the hometown wrong, Yixing had noticed with a lopsided grin. Out of all the names to misspell, they messed up 'Qingdao', he wonders with an amused sigh.
"What?" Tao snaps, still on edge though Yixing's spent most of the time they've been waiting in line with his hands clamped over his shoulders, trying to squeeze out Tao’s nerves with careful massages.
"Nothing, I just still find it hilarious that they can't spell 'Qingdao'. Like it's not an uncommon name, or anything."
"You're still snickering over that? Ge, please." Tao snickers too, though whether at the typo or at his friend Yixing can't tell.
"Oh hey, the doors are opening down there!" Yixing points to the opposite end of the hall from where they've been admitting the prospective talents to perform their audition pieces. "Do you think they're setting up another audition room to get through the line faster?"
"Don't all the official judges have to vote on the applicants?" Tao asks, eyes dark with suspicion, but he sits up to get a better look. One of the production assistants props the doors open and a TV crew emerges. "Oh, it's just an interview crew, or something."
Tao's been in a sour mood since he'd discovered upon their arrival that the network had replaced the judging panel for the new season. That revelation hadn't seemed to shake his resolve to go through with the audition at all, though. If anything, it takes off some of the immediate pressure if he doesn't have to sing in front of his idol, Yixing thinks with a silent prayer of thanks to his parents in heaven. If Tao makes it today he’ll have another chance for Fan Bingbing to hear him. That Yixing is almost certain of.
The TV crew with the camera and sound boom make their way down the row of fidgeting performers sprawled out on the tile floor and backless benches. They ask a few generic questions of the participants and move on to the next without event. Yixing's lost his tense feeling of being invaded by the time they approach the front of the line where he and Tao are seated, and Tao just blooms straighter and taller the closer he gets to being filmed.
"Excuse me, could we ask you a few questions?" The woman holds out the microphone to Tao. He nods in assent with a polite smile couched in his features, as if he's looked this relaxed and assured all evening, as if he belongs there.
Tao repeats his name and hometown and all the information printed on his audition number before the interviewer asks him anything interesting. "Why are you here to audition?" she asks through a sticky lipsticked smile, and Yixing wants to laugh in dismay because it's the same generic question they'd asked the girl and her brother sitting right next to them.
"I'm here to sing," Tao says, and his eyes radiate the confidence that colors his voice with warmth. Yixing thinks it sounds like a deep shade of plum.
"But why did you come here to sing? Any special motivation?"
"Because I love singing," Tao says, looking straight into the camera like he's been trained to handle interviews like this. "Music is a part of me, and I have to chase every opportunity to share my passion with the world in order to stay true to myself."
"Okay. Anyone supporting you that you'd like to thank?"
"I'd like to thank my favorite idol and singer for sparking my initial inspiration many years ago, and my parents and teachers for supporting my dream, but most of all--" Tao breaks his eye contact with the camera, twisting to face Yixing as the cameraman swivels his lens to follow their movement. "I'd like to thank my friend here, for teaching me by example how important it is to find the music inside yourself, and to share the truth in your heart."
"Okay. Thank you and good luck," the woman says as she sidesteps to position her microphone in front of the next contestant.
"You didn't have to--Taozi, really, I'm--"
"Are you embarrassed, ge?" Tao looks at him with a subtle glint dancing in his solemn eyes. Yixing can't tell if they're both whispering so as not to disturb the interview happening beside them, or because this is their moment, their last moment that belongs to just the two of them before they step into the audition room and broadcast their music to the audience, and then as many audiences as they can after that.
"Nah, I'm just proud of you, if you really meant what you said." Yixing brushes Tao’s hair of his eyes. He wonders why Tao didn't spike up his hair today. Maybe he wanted people to take notice of the confidence that comes from inside him instead of getting distracted by the outer expressions of his independent streak, like his punk hair and silvery jewelry. He still has his rings on though, Yixing notices when Tao takes his hand in his and turns it over in his lap to trace the creases mapped out on his palm.
"Of course I meant it." Tao tosses his head with an impatient click of his tongue. "I don't lie, ge. You know that. Not even to cameras on TV."
"That's good," Yixing nods as he squeezes Tao's slender fingers in his palm. "Just be careful. Take good care of your dreams, okay, kid?"
The doors open at the front of the hall and the camera crew rushes over to film the reaction of the young girl who comes out. Yixing looks away as she collapses into her mother's arms with a pitiful moan.
"Number 1583, Huang Zitao from Qingdong," the manager guarding the door reads from a clipboard.
"Well, this is it." Yixing kisses Tao's fingertips for good luck before releasing them and hoists his guitar over his shoulder.
"We got this." Tao stands up tall and proud and leads the way to the door.
"Excuse me, one at a time." The manager holds up his hand to block Yixing's way when Tao holds open the door for him. "Family and friends wait in the lobby, please."
"I'm accompanying," Yixing explains with an uncertain smile, patting the padded case resting on his back and hips.
"Sorry, only registered auditionees are allowed in. There are professional staff available to accompany if brought have sheet music." The stage manager doesn't drop his arm.
Yixing gives Tao an apologetic look but Tao just smiles, winks. I got this, ge.
"Go on, the clock's ticking!" The manager shoos Tao into the recording room as Yixing backs up out of the way to wait.
He's the one who’s ended up feeling the most nervous despite all his reassurances to Tao, Yixing thinks with a shaky laugh as he searches for a seat. He finds a spot on a bench on the opposite side of the wide hallway, about halfway down from the door. Two middle aged ladies with tight set mouths and matching pearl earrings shift over for him so he can sit. Yixing props his guitar case between his legs and counts the seconds on the white utility clock hung above the double doors.
The camera crew hangs around conducting interviews, taking their time as they wend back down the length of the queue. It can't be taking Tao this long to sing, Yixing worries as he chews new dimples into the swell of his lower lip. He tries to remember how long the people in front of them spent in front of the audition panel and divide the average, but time seems to be stretching far too long no matter how he calculates it and he doesn't know how to interpret the silence.
Yixing glances over to the lady on his right, who's rocking her hips on the bench like Tao did at the station a few hours before. They still have plenty of time to catch their midnight train back to Qingdao, even if Tao spends another thirty minutes in the audition room (but surely it can't take that much longer?) He should have brought a notebook to keep his thoughts from running into the swamp of questionable emotions they tend to stray to when he’s left to his own devices, but Yixing hadn't brought anything but his guitar. He wanted to keep his mind lightweight and free of everything but the music.
Music, he thinks with grin, and sits forward, straining his ears to see if he can hear anything happening in the recording room. He can't of course, but the reminder of why he's here and what's at stake jogs Yixing’s motivation to cross his fingers and pray, pray harder, as hard as he can. He's praying for Tao to do his best and not to feel crushed if he doesn't make it this time, because Yixing knows he'll make it sometime. They both will.
Tao will become the ballad singer he's always dreamed of being and break countless more hearts with his sad smiles before he pieces them back together again with a sweet melody of spring. And Yixing--Yixing will finish his album as soon as he’s able and mail off demo tapes until he runs out of spending money. He’ll save up again and keep sending them until he finds a producer. And then he'll keep writing songs, maybe he'll even get to write for Tao when they're both famous and free to share their hearts with the whole world. It doesn't hurt to dream.
Yixing feels his lungs bloom with oxygen when the doors finally open and Tao steps out of the shadows with a quiet smile. The camera crew swarms him as soon as they notice his reentry, but Tao sidesteps them with a demure nod, scanning the slumped shoulders lining the benches with his keen gaze.
"Over here," Yixing hails him with a wave. He can't help the surge of affection that lights up the circuits connecting his heart and spirit when Tao's face breaks into a triumphant smile.
"Ge, I made it," he whispers against Yixing's neck. Yixing cradles Tao’s head to his chest and guards his hot tears of relief and hope from the camera. "I'm gonna be on TV, I'm gonna be famous."
They're both shaking with laughter and Yixing can't remember how to breathe but Tao pokes him hard in the ribs and that shocks the oxygen back into his lungs a second time. "I knew you'd make it, Taozi. You're great, kid. You really, really are!"
"You think I'll meet Fan Bingbing on the show? Maybe she'll...guest judge or something, I don't know." Tao is all breathless giggles and Yixing can't pull his eyes from his elated smile, still stretching wider than he's ever seen it.
"Maybe! I don't know either, Taozi, but...someday."
"Someday," Tao sighs, but he squeezes Yixing's hand as they both turn to give a proper smile to the camera.
Yixing is just grateful for this moment, for right now. It's all he can ask for and far more than he feels he deserves, but he's made up his mind to enjoy this for as long as this happiness is his to keep.
(part one here)
NOTE: This story is a standalone prequel to the two oneshots in my FanTaosy au. This story takes place when Yixing and Tao are teenagers, and the other parts take place not too long after Tao's debut. The first one ( The Color of Home ) is written from Fan Bingbing's POV, and the second ( Duet in Sunlit Silence ) from Tao's. I might possibly maybe in the future continue this series with another oneshot about Yixing, we'll have to see ;)
Thanks for reading ♥
Rating: pg
Pairing: Lay//Tao
Warnings: mentions of Yixing's former high school girlfriend, language
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, written just for fun.
Summary: Yixing is reaching out to hold the precious things that glisten on his horizon, the most important of which are his dreams.
A/N: written for Orange Unicorns, the Zhang Yixing fic collection 2015! This is the theme song: Gaeko's "과거는 갔고 미래는 몰라"
"You made up your mind yet?"
It's only been four days since Yixing saw him last, but it’s felt more like two weeks. Yichao disappeared again over the weekend so Yixing hasn't had a night off since the beginning of the month. His grandma has been hovering in the shop even when it isn't her shift because she's worried about the rash of petty thefts in the neighborhood, she claims.
Yixing's heard the rumors about equipment and cash wads going missing too, but somehow it feels like it's just an excuse for Granny to keep an eagle eye on things, himself included. It's like she can sense he's scheming something, and she knows that all she has to do is raise her eyebrows at him to get him to reconsider his crazy idea. Except this time it's not his crazy idea, Yixing thinks with a wry scowl that’s two parts contempt and one part affection.
"This is all your fault, you know." He greets Tao with a whack at the brim of his hat, the swipe of his hand knocking the crown off center.
"Hey! What did I do? Oh...has--has Han ge been around again, or?"
"Nah, nothing like that, kid. Take a seat~" Yixing waves at the desk and Tao leans his hips against the edge next to him, sagging into his side. "No, my Granny has just been circling like a suspicious hawk all week. It's like, she just knows..."
"Are you afraid of your own grandmother?" Tao tips his head back to laugh and Yixing can tell from the lightness of his tone that he's just joking.
"No," he denies in the least defensive voice he can muster, and wishes it were completely true. "No, just..."
"You're getting antsy," Tao declares, returning his whack with a smack to Yixing’s bare forehead. "Which means you're not gonna get the itch out of your system until you do something about it."
"And what do you recommend for my itch, Doctor?" Yixing winks and gets Tao back with a sneaky poke to his rib.
"Hey--stop that! I recommend a trip. Get some fresh air, a change in climate. A weekend in Shanghai should do the trick!"
"I see, I see..." Yixing taps his fingers together to keep his feet from jostling the whole desk with the current of anxiety that's running through his core.
"Come on, ge. One night, two days. We can sleep on the overnight train so we don't have to pay for a room. I'll buy all your food in compensation for your services. All you have to bring is you and your guitar."
"It's a little more complex than that..." Yixing glances at the calendar and the little red circle surrounding his grandma's upcoming appointment date at the cardiologist's. It's only days away now, the same day of Tao's audition. He's not sure who fears those visits to the clinic worst or leaves the most relieved--the one with the heart condition, or the one taking care of her.
"What is? Minding the shop? Ge, I got that all figured out. If that little friend of yours isn't available I got Han ge to promise he'd come and help out."
"Really now?" The image of the dorm VP lounging behind their scarred laminate desk makes Yixing smile. Business would be booming with Lu Han in charge, all the neighbor ladies coming in for a peek at the handsome stranger who looks like a prince from a TV drama. "So you got permission from school, then? To miss evening classes on Friday and stay out overnight?"
"Well...sort of..." Tao's thumb ring catches on the hem of his pullover when he twists his fingers in the soft wool. "I mean, Han ge and the other seniors said they'd cover for me, and we don't have anything essential that day I'd be missing out on."
"Taozi, Taozi, you're just--!" Yixing laughs, and Tao's smile is delighted as if he already knows that he's won and they're both going to Shanghai on Friday. He probably thought he’d already won the whole competition the moment he saw the flier, Yixing realizes when Tao crushes his ribs in an impulsive hug.
"Even my parents would approve of it I think, if I had been able to get ahold of them. They're in Europe though, some business thing," Tao clarifies before Yixing can ask, his gaze honest and grave and unwavering. "Ge, I'm going to this audition whether you come with me or not.”
"I think you should still let your homeroom teacher know, Taozi. So they don't worry. They're responsible for your safety, and--"
"I'll call," Tao cuts him off with a grunt. He doesn't say goodbye before the door slams behind him and Yixing's last words die in his throat as he watches Tao's shadow retreat down the sidewalk.
"Welcome to Zhang's," he sighs as loud as he can force his gravelly voice into responding as a group of teenage kids crowds into the entrance. They're probably in high school too, though their pimply chins and squinty eyes make them look a decade less mature than Tao's clear eyed confidence and the electric purple of his eye makeup implies. Yixing wonders if they let him wear cosmetics to school, but maybe they're lax with the dress code at a special academy like that. School regulations sure haven't cramped Tao's style with regards to his hair.
"We want Avengers," the kid in front says, elbowing aside a taller boy so that Yixing's gaze rests on him. "Whichever one you have. Or all of 'em."
"That's 28 yuan," Yixing says, handing them a disc from the rack of hundreds behind his desk. "If you're gonna smoke, then use the room at the end on the left." He points down the hall as the short kid in front snatches the DVD in the plastic jewel case from his hand.
"We're not gonna smoke, okay." He hands over the money in crumpled bills and several 1 yuan coins.
"Have fun." Yixing pockets the money and hands them the key to room #12 at the end of the hall anyway. It's easier to take precautions than it is to clean up after a mistake in judgement, after all. Not that he hasn't made his fair share of mistakes, like scarring the bottom of his grandma's copper kettle because he forgot it was on the stove and let it boil dry.
But Yixing tries to think through his options and stay ahead of the game when it comes to important things, or anything that might affect his future, really. That includes everything from letting a bunch of kids make a mess in their viewing room, to his carefully considered maneuvers to continue following his own dream, his dream of spreading Chinese music through the whole world and lifting it up as something beautiful and shining.
While he doesn't want to encourage Tao to deprioritize things as important as his studies and his family's wishes, Yixing would be lying if he denied the magnetic pull the force of music exerts on him, drawing him deeper towards the flame that burns at the core of artistic passion. It's a force too big for it to stem from himself--that's what Yixing wishes he could explain to Tao when he tries to talk about where his drive and motivation come from.
Inspiration is a beautiful thing when the notes are unfolding from his heart and lacing his fingers, his flesh, with the essence of life around him. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when his gift demands that he sacrifice the people most important to him to continue his pursuit.
He had said goodbye to Mei not because he’d thought she'd slow him down or get in the way. Yixing had thought the opposite, actually. His first love was his muse in another form, but she'd fanned the flames of inspiration in his core long before he'd met Tao. She'd been Yixing’s unfaltering support when he'd lost his parents and his direction in life, too.
Yixing had only said goodbye to his fragrant flower in Changsha because he hadn't wanted to limit her. He hadn’t wanted to cloister her perfume to the corner of their secret garden while she waited for him to return with a pocketful of the success he's convinced he'll find someday. Yixing knows deep down that he’ll make it too, he just doesn't know when, or if it'll be too late by then. It would have been unfair to Mei to keep hanging on to her. It would have been unfair to the next person who learns to love her like the treasure she is.
It would have been unfair to Yixing, too, if he'd had to balance the responsibility of a relationship with the demands of his quest. He still loves her, if he's honest with his heart, but it's not the kind of love meant to bind him to a firmly planted flower while the sun calls his leaves to branch out in another direction. In that sense, the accident and his subsequent move south hadn't been a bad thing, Yixing thinks. It had set him free to find his destiny--and to find Tao, who Yixing truly considers a gift regardless of how long or short a time he gets to keep his friend by his side.
These days Yixing just thinks of the good things that flow into his life as gifts on trial order, as blessings on loan he gets to keep just until their real recipient needs them back again, and he's okay with that. As long as he has music he has a way to find himself again, as well as a roadmap that will lead him to a greater understanding of humanity and the life he dwells in the midst of. Yixing doubts if he'll ever understand why he's still breathing and his parents aren't, or why the words to match his notes just drop from his tongue to his pen nib sometimes while not everyone can do that even if they try their best.
All he knows is that he owes a debt to the blood and the life in his veins, and the only way he knows how to repay that is by sharing his heart with lives around him, one smile and one chord on his guitar at a time. He only wishes he could share the deepest layers of warmth echoing in his heart with Tao because Tao is so incredibly special--so beautiful. But Yixing knows better than to try to hold onto a brilliance that will soon outshine the confines of their cozy cuddle piles on his grandma's dingy DVD room couches. Tao has his own direction that the sun is teaching him to stretch his limbs towards, anyway. Tao has posters of Fan Bingbing and a love song for the whole country.
When he thinks about it that way...well, maybe Taozi's right then. If he's bound and determined to succeed at that audition with or without Yixing's help, then doesn't Yixing owe him the best that he can give on his guitar? He owes Tao his best as his friend, and he owes it to himself and to the music. When he thinks about it that way, Yixing knows he's found the way forward. Even if Tao's teachers don't understand, Yixing's glad someone at his school does.
Mei would understand, Yixing thinks with a smile as he reaches for his guitar. He's got some practicing to do.
+++
The sun glares off the destination placard slotted in the plastic sign on the side of the train and Yixing's bag handles are sweaty in his palm. The weight of his guitar slung over his shoulders feels right though, and he keeps striding down the length of the platform in search of an employee to check his ticket. He's pretty sure he has the right platform, and the engine idling on the tracks and feeding vibrations up through the bricks into the pores of his metatarsals is the express line bound for Shanghai that Tao's set to board just after 4:00.
None of the faces peeling past his progress down the stone walkway look familiar, though. Yixing squints, searching the milling crowd of bodies buttoned into black wool and puffy down coats.
"Ge?"
The voice from behind has Yixing craning his neck over his shoulder before his feet can untangle themselves under his legs. He turns to face the person he's been looking for. "Tao! There you are. Been looking for you all over, kid."
"I've been here for an hour, when nobody else was here. You can't have been looking too long." Tao narrows his eyes over the lenses of his sunglasses as he removes them. Yixing reminds himself not to squint in the sun, and remembers what it is he forgot that's been rumbling with unease in his stomach since the tense subway ride over. It's true he hasn't been at the station long--he almost missed his second transfer on the metro and had to run up a few flights of stairs. The escalators in the subway had been closed for midday repairs before rush hour traffic picked up again close to the dinner hour.
"Sorry. At least I made it?" Yixing holds out his arms like he's a prize that Tao just won and gets to claim and keep safe forever. Tao just laughs, his boot heels peeling up from the pavement when his hips rock back on the bench planks.
"I'm hungry," Tao says. He pouts up at Yixing once his feet are firmly set on the ground again.
"I thought you were buying the food on this expedition." Yixing nudges his boot with his sneaker toe so Tao will scoot over to make room for him on the bench even though they're about to board the train.
"I am, but you got here so late we don't have time to pick up lunch boxes at the concessions." Tao shakes his head as he pulls Yixing to his feet with an impatient tug on his arm.
"Sorry."
"That's okay, maybe I shouldn't eat anything anyway. Fuck, I'm so nervous."
"Hey, it's gonna be great. You're great, I'm great!" Yixing spins Tao around to face him with a hand on his shoulder so he'll catch his playful wink. "Loosen up kid, we got this."
"Yeah, with you I know I can make it! Thank you for coming." Tao gives him a fierce smile. His chin doesn't wobble, even if his hands and knees are shaking like the platform's vibrating with the force of an earthquake now. "Let's find our seats. I need to find somewhere to smoke on the train."
"Ah, ah--" Yixing catches his wrist with his free hand and snatches Tao's pack of cigarettes away. He crushes them in his fist before tossing the ruined box into the nearest trash bin. "You have to sing. Water only, and then afterwards we'll have a banquet of food. Deal?"
"Deal," Tao mouths, though the music of his words gets lost in the noise of the PSA telling them to hurry and board the train in an orderly manner.
Their seats are next to each other in the third car. Tao reserved them ahead of time with Lu Han's help. He pulls on headphones and falls right to sleep with his head pillowed against the window sash and the rhythm of the tracks lulling his fears into slumber. Yixing stares ahead at the cigarette burns lined up like pearls on a necklace in the plush upholstery of the seat back in front of him. Mei had a long string of pearls she inherited from her grandmother. She wore them on her birthday every year, including the day Yixing had kissed her goodbye.
That was a long time ago though, or at least it feels far away from him in terms of calendar pages and counting down the moments until his next transition. Her smile embedded in the folds of his memory hasn't faded an iota, and that thought is a comfort as Yixing watches Tao's sleeping face through a string of careful blinks and tries to mentally review the chords he needs to play once they get there.
+++
They're sitting in the lobby at the broadcasting building several hours later. Yixing should be hungry by now even though he hadn't been when they boarded in the evening. His stomach isn't full of nervous squiggles, either. He just feels plugged into this steady stream of calm, submerged in a peaceful force that's flooding his system with too strong of a current for him to fight against.
He won’t try to fight it, though. He's always been grateful for the surge of focus that detaches him from his immediate environment and lets him delve into the music when he's getting ready to perform. Tonight is no different, though this time it's Tao who's got his dreams on the line and his heart beating in his mouth with tremors of determination fluttering at the doors of his lips.
"You doing okay, kid?" Yixing holds up the water bottle they've been sharing between them and filling up in the bathroom sink when it runs out. Tao nods, and squares his shoulders with a brave smile. The paper pinned to his chest identifying him as a registered participant lists his name, school, and registration number. They spelled the hometown wrong, Yixing had noticed with a lopsided grin. Out of all the names to misspell, they messed up 'Qingdao', he wonders with an amused sigh.
"What?" Tao snaps, still on edge though Yixing's spent most of the time they've been waiting in line with his hands clamped over his shoulders, trying to squeeze out Tao’s nerves with careful massages.
"Nothing, I just still find it hilarious that they can't spell 'Qingdao'. Like it's not an uncommon name, or anything."
"You're still snickering over that? Ge, please." Tao snickers too, though whether at the typo or at his friend Yixing can't tell.
"Oh hey, the doors are opening down there!" Yixing points to the opposite end of the hall from where they've been admitting the prospective talents to perform their audition pieces. "Do you think they're setting up another audition room to get through the line faster?"
"Don't all the official judges have to vote on the applicants?" Tao asks, eyes dark with suspicion, but he sits up to get a better look. One of the production assistants props the doors open and a TV crew emerges. "Oh, it's just an interview crew, or something."
Tao's been in a sour mood since he'd discovered upon their arrival that the network had replaced the judging panel for the new season. That revelation hadn't seemed to shake his resolve to go through with the audition at all, though. If anything, it takes off some of the immediate pressure if he doesn't have to sing in front of his idol, Yixing thinks with a silent prayer of thanks to his parents in heaven. If Tao makes it today he’ll have another chance for Fan Bingbing to hear him. That Yixing is almost certain of.
The TV crew with the camera and sound boom make their way down the row of fidgeting performers sprawled out on the tile floor and backless benches. They ask a few generic questions of the participants and move on to the next without event. Yixing's lost his tense feeling of being invaded by the time they approach the front of the line where he and Tao are seated, and Tao just blooms straighter and taller the closer he gets to being filmed.
"Excuse me, could we ask you a few questions?" The woman holds out the microphone to Tao. He nods in assent with a polite smile couched in his features, as if he's looked this relaxed and assured all evening, as if he belongs there.
Tao repeats his name and hometown and all the information printed on his audition number before the interviewer asks him anything interesting. "Why are you here to audition?" she asks through a sticky lipsticked smile, and Yixing wants to laugh in dismay because it's the same generic question they'd asked the girl and her brother sitting right next to them.
"I'm here to sing," Tao says, and his eyes radiate the confidence that colors his voice with warmth. Yixing thinks it sounds like a deep shade of plum.
"But why did you come here to sing? Any special motivation?"
"Because I love singing," Tao says, looking straight into the camera like he's been trained to handle interviews like this. "Music is a part of me, and I have to chase every opportunity to share my passion with the world in order to stay true to myself."
"Okay. Anyone supporting you that you'd like to thank?"
"I'd like to thank my favorite idol and singer for sparking my initial inspiration many years ago, and my parents and teachers for supporting my dream, but most of all--" Tao breaks his eye contact with the camera, twisting to face Yixing as the cameraman swivels his lens to follow their movement. "I'd like to thank my friend here, for teaching me by example how important it is to find the music inside yourself, and to share the truth in your heart."
"Okay. Thank you and good luck," the woman says as she sidesteps to position her microphone in front of the next contestant.
"You didn't have to--Taozi, really, I'm--"
"Are you embarrassed, ge?" Tao looks at him with a subtle glint dancing in his solemn eyes. Yixing can't tell if they're both whispering so as not to disturb the interview happening beside them, or because this is their moment, their last moment that belongs to just the two of them before they step into the audition room and broadcast their music to the audience, and then as many audiences as they can after that.
"Nah, I'm just proud of you, if you really meant what you said." Yixing brushes Tao’s hair of his eyes. He wonders why Tao didn't spike up his hair today. Maybe he wanted people to take notice of the confidence that comes from inside him instead of getting distracted by the outer expressions of his independent streak, like his punk hair and silvery jewelry. He still has his rings on though, Yixing notices when Tao takes his hand in his and turns it over in his lap to trace the creases mapped out on his palm.
"Of course I meant it." Tao tosses his head with an impatient click of his tongue. "I don't lie, ge. You know that. Not even to cameras on TV."
"That's good," Yixing nods as he squeezes Tao's slender fingers in his palm. "Just be careful. Take good care of your dreams, okay, kid?"
The doors open at the front of the hall and the camera crew rushes over to film the reaction of the young girl who comes out. Yixing looks away as she collapses into her mother's arms with a pitiful moan.
"Number 1583, Huang Zitao from Qingdong," the manager guarding the door reads from a clipboard.
"Well, this is it." Yixing kisses Tao's fingertips for good luck before releasing them and hoists his guitar over his shoulder.
"We got this." Tao stands up tall and proud and leads the way to the door.
"Excuse me, one at a time." The manager holds up his hand to block Yixing's way when Tao holds open the door for him. "Family and friends wait in the lobby, please."
"I'm accompanying," Yixing explains with an uncertain smile, patting the padded case resting on his back and hips.
"Sorry, only registered auditionees are allowed in. There are professional staff available to accompany if brought have sheet music." The stage manager doesn't drop his arm.
Yixing gives Tao an apologetic look but Tao just smiles, winks. I got this, ge.
"Go on, the clock's ticking!" The manager shoos Tao into the recording room as Yixing backs up out of the way to wait.
He's the one who’s ended up feeling the most nervous despite all his reassurances to Tao, Yixing thinks with a shaky laugh as he searches for a seat. He finds a spot on a bench on the opposite side of the wide hallway, about halfway down from the door. Two middle aged ladies with tight set mouths and matching pearl earrings shift over for him so he can sit. Yixing props his guitar case between his legs and counts the seconds on the white utility clock hung above the double doors.
The camera crew hangs around conducting interviews, taking their time as they wend back down the length of the queue. It can't be taking Tao this long to sing, Yixing worries as he chews new dimples into the swell of his lower lip. He tries to remember how long the people in front of them spent in front of the audition panel and divide the average, but time seems to be stretching far too long no matter how he calculates it and he doesn't know how to interpret the silence.
Yixing glances over to the lady on his right, who's rocking her hips on the bench like Tao did at the station a few hours before. They still have plenty of time to catch their midnight train back to Qingdao, even if Tao spends another thirty minutes in the audition room (but surely it can't take that much longer?) He should have brought a notebook to keep his thoughts from running into the swamp of questionable emotions they tend to stray to when he’s left to his own devices, but Yixing hadn't brought anything but his guitar. He wanted to keep his mind lightweight and free of everything but the music.
Music, he thinks with grin, and sits forward, straining his ears to see if he can hear anything happening in the recording room. He can't of course, but the reminder of why he's here and what's at stake jogs Yixing’s motivation to cross his fingers and pray, pray harder, as hard as he can. He's praying for Tao to do his best and not to feel crushed if he doesn't make it this time, because Yixing knows he'll make it sometime. They both will.
Tao will become the ballad singer he's always dreamed of being and break countless more hearts with his sad smiles before he pieces them back together again with a sweet melody of spring. And Yixing--Yixing will finish his album as soon as he’s able and mail off demo tapes until he runs out of spending money. He’ll save up again and keep sending them until he finds a producer. And then he'll keep writing songs, maybe he'll even get to write for Tao when they're both famous and free to share their hearts with the whole world. It doesn't hurt to dream.
Yixing feels his lungs bloom with oxygen when the doors finally open and Tao steps out of the shadows with a quiet smile. The camera crew swarms him as soon as they notice his reentry, but Tao sidesteps them with a demure nod, scanning the slumped shoulders lining the benches with his keen gaze.
"Over here," Yixing hails him with a wave. He can't help the surge of affection that lights up the circuits connecting his heart and spirit when Tao's face breaks into a triumphant smile.
"Ge, I made it," he whispers against Yixing's neck. Yixing cradles Tao’s head to his chest and guards his hot tears of relief and hope from the camera. "I'm gonna be on TV, I'm gonna be famous."
They're both shaking with laughter and Yixing can't remember how to breathe but Tao pokes him hard in the ribs and that shocks the oxygen back into his lungs a second time. "I knew you'd make it, Taozi. You're great, kid. You really, really are!"
"You think I'll meet Fan Bingbing on the show? Maybe she'll...guest judge or something, I don't know." Tao is all breathless giggles and Yixing can't pull his eyes from his elated smile, still stretching wider than he's ever seen it.
"Maybe! I don't know either, Taozi, but...someday."
"Someday," Tao sighs, but he squeezes Yixing's hand as they both turn to give a proper smile to the camera.
Yixing is just grateful for this moment, for right now. It's all he can ask for and far more than he feels he deserves, but he's made up his mind to enjoy this for as long as this happiness is his to keep.
(part one here)
NOTE: This story is a standalone prequel to the two oneshots in my FanTaosy au. This story takes place when Yixing and Tao are teenagers, and the other parts take place not too long after Tao's debut. The first one ( The Color of Home ) is written from Fan Bingbing's POV, and the second ( Duet in Sunlit Silence ) from Tao's. I might possibly maybe in the future continue this series with another oneshot about Yixing, we'll have to see ;)
Thanks for reading ♥