Anthem of a Runaway
Title: Anthem of a Runaway
Pairing: Fanxing
Rating: R
Words: 8,162
Warnings: Character death
Summary: He has been here so many times he knows this place more than he knows himself, which, he thinks, isn’t very much at all.
{Anthem of a Runaway}
Kris sits in the cool morning grass, running his fingers along the dewy blades. Luhan had told him to stop coming so often. “It’s ok now,” he had said. “It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll understand.” But Kris has been here so many times he knows this place more than he knows himself, which, he thinks, isn’t very much at all. And he doesn’t want to know himself, he doesn’t even like himself. But Luhan, Luhan he dislikes even more, he thinks, as he reaches forward to touch the purple flowers. Because these are new, which means that Luhan hasn’t even taken his own advice.
“You’re here again.” The voice from behind confirms his thoughts.
“So are you,” he replies, and Luhan sighs.
“Kris, why do you keep coming? It’s been over two years.”
“Because the sounds of screeching tires still drown out the sounds of music.”
“It’s not your fault.” Luhan places a hand on Kris’s shoulder and says, “It’s really not your fault.”
But Luhan is wrong, it is his fault, it’s definitely his fault and he hates Luhan even more for saying it isn’t. Then again, there are lots of reasons to hate Luhan. Like that time where Kris was ten and he had just moved to China from Canada. Luhan had laughed at him and called his accent funny, but Luhan was his first friend. Or that time when they were sixteen and he found out the girl he liked, liked Luhan instead; but they never did date. Or when they were nineteen and Luhan got into the better university even though Kris tried harder, but he went to Kris’s university anyway. Perhaps the most important reason to hate Luhan however, was in first year university when he introduced Kris to his friend from the dance club; but Yixing really knew how to make memories, and Kris so easily forgets.
~
“There’s someone I want you to meet!” Luhan had said over the phone. “Meet us in the little café on campus in 20 minutes?” He was in the library studying and he can’t remember why he said yes, but nevertheless, he did, and he found himself in said café with his book filled backpack slung over his shoulder, right on time.
Kris spotted Luhan at the back of the café as soon as he entered. He was sipping his coffee (probably one of those fancy ones) and watching the boy in front of him, who wore a bright blue hoodie and was hunched over papers spread all over the table. Kris slid into the seat next to Luhan at looked at the boy across the table. It was music that he was writing, his dark brown hair falling across his eyes. The boy finished writing his last line of notes and tapped his pencil on the table twice before looking up to acknowledge Kris’s existence for the first time.
“Hi,” he said with a smile. “You must be Kris. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Zhang Yixing.” He held his hand out across the table and Kris was slow to react. Because Yixing was polite and his voice was soft but Kris’s ears were ringing. He shook Yixing’s hand and tried to offer a small smile, which he realized didn’t really work very well when Yixing said, “Gosh, you’re awfully serious.”
Luhan chimed in with, “He’s also awfully dumb.”
Two weeks later there was a knock at Kris’s door. He opened it to find Luhan standing there. “I thought you were going out with that Yixing guy tonight,” Kris said, and Luhan shrugged.
“I don’t know where he is,” he replied. “He’s always disappearing, and he’s pretty forgetful.” Then Luhan laughed. “I’m afraid he’ll forget to come back altogether one day. But can you help me with our bio assignment?”
“I thought you were the smart one,” Kris muttered to himself.
~
“Kris, you need to stop focusing on the last day and try to remember the years before.” Luhan sits himself down on the ground next to Kris and crosses his legs so their knees are touching. But it isn’t just the last day he thinks about, he thinks about the days after as well.
“Where was Yixing going when he ran out?” They had asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I never did.”
“What was your relationship with Zhang Yixing?”
Kris had sat there quietly, thinking about it, before finally replying with, “I don’t know.” And it wasn’t that far off from the truth. Yixing was always running, but he always came back, and Kris was always stuck there waiting.
~
They met for the second time at the same coffee shop, but this time it was completely unplanned. The table at the back was covered in sheets of music, and Yixing was bent over one sheet. He wrote a few notes, then sat back in the chair, tapped his pencil on the table a few times, then pushed the sheet away. He looked stuck, and he looked frustrated, so Kris found himself approaching the boy.
“Hey,” he said, and his voice came out deep and very unenthusiastic, which he hadn’t planned, but when it came to Yixing, nothing was ever planned. Yixing looked at him. He knitted his eyebrows and tapped his pencil on the table twice before saying, “I’m stuck.”
Kris pulled out the chair across from Yixing and sat down. “You’re writing music?”
“I’m trying, but I can’t come up with anything,” he sighed. “It’s been like this for weeks, I can’t come up with anything, I can’t connect it.”
“Writers block?” And then they were having a conversation about how Yixing had been writing music for as long as he could remember. The songs just came to him, and he put them on paper. He picked up his father’s guitar at age three and never put it down. The piano came sometime later in his life. And he sings. He doesn’t think he sings well, but he still sings.
“I need inspiration,” he said. “I need to go somewhere new.” He stared out the windows behind Kris. Then he grabbed one of the discarded music sheets and flipped it over to the plain back side. Messy grey numbers were scribbled into the white paper and then he handed it to Kris. “That’s my number,” he said.
“Why?” It really wasn’t what Kris had meant to say but Yixing didn’t give him a weird look. Instead he just shrugged.
“Just in case.”
The next day Kris figured if he was going to make it through his next class, he needed a coffee, so he stopped into the little café on campus. It was mostly empty except for a couple people in line and a boy sitting at the back table. He just wanted a coffee, but he walked past the line and straight to the back table where a frustrated looking Yixing sat.
“Do you come here often?” And if that wasn’t cliché Kris doesn’t know what is. Yixing’s expression softened.
“Good morning to you too,” he said. He placed his pencil down and looks up at Kris. “You never texted me.”
“Uhhhh, sorry, I didn’t know…” He stumbled over his words a little bit.
“How am I supposed to get your number too?” Kris pulled out his phone and started typing. Seconds later, Yixing’s phone started buzzing from somewhere under his papers.
Hey, it’s Kris : )
Yixing giggled, dimple showing on his right cheek and Kris’ ear began ringing again.
~
“Luhan, did you plant these?” He’s looking at the purple flowers in front of them, and Luhan nods.
“A couple days ago. They’re just pansies. Purple, Yixing’s favourite colour, but they’ll die when winter comes. We’ll have to plant new ones. Maybe next year, we can plant some Lavender.”
~
Are you home?
Kris was sitting at his desk, going over his notes from classes that day when his phone went off.
Ya, why?
Let me in.
Yixing stood in his doorway, guitar slung over his shoulder and both hands gripping the strap.
“I think I got something,” he said. “Can I get your opinion?”
“But I don’t know anything about music,” Kris said.
“That’s fine, it’s not finished yet, I just need a starting opinion.” Kris agreed and then Yixing was seated on his couch, guitar out of its case and resting on his leg. He picked at each string once, then began to play. The sounds that flowed out blended in unison to create what Kris thought was a beautiful sounding tune. At first Kris listened, and then he stared. He heard the notes, he heard the music, but what he saw with his eyes was more beautiful than what he heard with his ears. Yixing strummed at his guitar and Kris forgot that he was studying and also forgot what he was supposed to be studying. When Yixing strummed the last note, he locked his eyes with Kris’ and his mind went as blank as the backside of Yixing’s music sheets.
“That’s all I have,” Yixing’s voice was almost a whisper. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful,” was all Kris could say.
Yixing smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I haven’t written any of it down.”
~
“He was always making music, but he never wrote any of it down,” Kris says.
“He used to, he used to write it all down. But then he stopped because he didn’t need to write it down. All his songs were about you." Luhan picks at a blade of grass then starts to speak again. “You know, he really lov-“
“Don’t,” Kris cuts him off.
“It’s true though, he did.”
“Yixing was an arts student. He loved everything and everyone. He was in love with the idea of being in love.”
~
Yixing would randomly stop by Kris’ apartment. At first he would always play something new, but then some days he would leave his guitar at home, and he’d bring a movie instead. He’d make Kris sit on the couch and watch it with him. Sometimes they were dumb romantic comedies, sometimes they were blockbuster actions, and sometimes they were beautifully done foreign films or something you would only see at a film festival. Yixing liked those best, but Kris liked the blockbuster actions. Yixing would sit too close and pull a blanket up over the both of them. Sometimes he would rest his head on Kris’ shoulder or link their arms. Yixing filled his space; and he smelled like Lavender, which Kris decided he liked the smell of.
Yixing never gave notice of where he was going or when he was coming back. Sometimes he would stop by three days in a row, and then Kris wouldn’t hear from him for four. The longest Kris went without seeing or hearing from Yixing was two weeks, and he realized in that time that he missed the boy’s company. But Yixing came back, and he came without notice. “I finished it,” he said. “I finished a whole song.”
He let himself into the apartment and went straight to Kris’ room; and Kris followed him there like a puppy.
He sat himself down in the desk chair and gestured for Kris to sit on the bed across from him. He put his guitar on his lap and said, “This song, it’s for you.”
It lasted about 5 minutes. Kris listened carefully to the entire thing. He watched Yixing strum and he watched Yixing’s fingers move from string to string as he switched chords. There were no words, just music, and to Kris, it was perfect. But then again he wasn’t a music student, so he was pretty sure he wouldn’t technically know if it were perfect.
When he finished playing, Yixing set the guitar next to him against the side of the desk and stood up. He walked straight for Kris and stopped in front of him. “Did you like it?”
“Yes,” Kris said, and Yixing put his hand on the back of Kris’ neck. “It was really good, I liked it a lo-” Kris never finished the end of his sentence because Yixing’s lips were on his and he forgot what he was saying anyways. Yixing pulled back as fast as he went in, and a blush crept onto his face as his mind caught up with his body and embarrassment flushed his cheeks. Kris doesn’t remember what he said, only that Yixing was stumbling over words and playing with his fingers and looking every which way except for Kris’.
He hadn’t realized that he wanted that until he reached up to pull Yixing back down. He kissed him again, for longer this time. It was Yixing who broke it again. “Is this ok?” He asked. “I mean, I didn’t know if you…. You know…. Liked guys.”
“I like you,” Kris replied without thinking, and Yixing was in his lap kissing him again.
He disappeared for two days after that.
~
Kris sighs and looks up at the blue sky. It’s getting brighter out, and it looks like it’s going to be a nice day. “Where was he always going?” He wasn’t really asking Luhan, but he replies anyways.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I thought you did. He never talked to me about that stuff.”
“I don’t think he talked to anyone about that stuff. He was looking for inspiration though.”
“I thought he already found it.”
Kris shakes his head. “I was never his inspiration, more like a source of amusement.”
~
Yixing always came back, but he came without a word. He would show up at Kris’ door, hoping someone was home. Kris usually was. He would come back and throw himself into Kris’ embrace, and he would smile as though he had found something wonderful, but never shared it with anyone.
Except one time, Kris remembers, Yixing wasn’t smiling. He stood at the doorway, hair soaked and clothes sticking to his body. He was shivering, and he was crying.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” Kris asked, pulling Yixing into the apartment. He never got an answer. “We need to get you out of these clothes and dried off before you get a cold.” He was about to go off to get a towel but Yixing reached out and fisted his hand into Kris’ shirt.
“Need you,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. His grip tightened and he repeated, “I just need you.”
Kris laced his fingers into Yixing’s wet hair and leaned down to kiss him. But Yixing got there first, wrapping his arms around Kris’ neck and clashing their mouths together. It wasn’t clean and Yixing’s entire body screamed with want, and Kris was willing to give him exactly what he wanted. He crouched slightly, wrapped one arm around Yixing’s upper back, and the other underneath his knees, lifting him bridal style. Yixing gasped and broke the kiss.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” Kris breathed, voice deep. He made his way to the bedroom and placed Yixing down on the bed. Their mouths quickly found each other again, and Kris’ hands found their way under Yixing’s shirt, pressing up against cold skin and traveling up his torso.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before, of course he had, but it was a lot better actually happening. He peeled off slick fabric and Yixing let him. He watched the boy beneath him be put back together as he fell further apart. And Kris fell apart too. He felt between cracks of skin and connected lips. He was swept away by rolling hips and swore he’d follow Yixing’s voice to the ends of the earth. He wrapped his arms around Yixing and pulled him even closer, leaving butterfly kisses on his neck to reduce the ones in his stomach, laced hearts with fingers, and fell deeper with every push inside.
Yixing looked up at Kris and pushed his sweat slicked bangs off his forehead, then he giggled, dimple imprinted in his right cheek. Kris smiled at the sight, and he was pretty sure in that moment -
“I love you.” It came out a little more than a whisper, but Yixing didn’t look away, he stared him in the eyes and waited for a response.
Kris can’t remember what he said, but he remembers waking up with an arm slung over his chest and legs tangled up with his. Yixing was still there.
~
“Yixing’s body was always moving faster than his mind,” Luhan says. “That’s why he was never in the right place and the right time. Before he could even stop himself he was running off again. I thought that of all people, you might be able to hold him down.”
“You thought wrong.”
“So did you.”
Kris sighs. “Yixing was grown enough he could make his own decisions. If he wanted to stay, he’d stay, and if he wanted to run, he would do that too.”
“Somewhere along the way he started staying longer than he disappeared though.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t know.”
Luhan looks at him, confused. “Why wouldn’t I know, Yixing was one of my closest friends.”
“Not best?” Kris inquires with a raise of an eyebrow.
“That’s you, you dumbass.”
Kris sighs with a small smile, as if he didn’t already know that. “You didn’t know because it happened in third year university.”
Luhan’s mouth forms an ‘o’. “Hey I wasn’t that distracted.” Kris laughs, and it’s genuine and it makes him feel a bit lighter.
“How is she by the way?” He asks.
“She’s good, busy, but good.”
~
It was year 3 of university when Yixing packed up his stuff and moved it into Kris’ apartment.
“I’ll help pay rent,” he said. “And I’ll even make you breakfast.” Yixing didn’t have to bargain his way in, Kris had already said yes, but he put up offers anyways.
Yixing didn’t have very many belongings, and it only took him one trip to bring it all. A suitcase of clothes, a bag of books, and a guitar slung over his shoulder is how he had walked into his new home. He dropped it all on the living room floor, except for the guitar which he rested against the side of the couch.
“This is it,” he said with a smile. Kris had kissed him until he couldn’t breathe in the middle of the living room.
“Finally,” he said, out of breath. Yixing barely gave him a moment before he was pulling him back down.
The apartment was just big enough for the both of them, and the fridge always had just enough food for two. Living on just enough, turned out to be more than they needed.
Yixing’s music would ring out from the living room while Kris studied in the bedroom. It was a soothing sound that on most days, helped him concentrate. It filled his head, made him smile, and the words on the page untangled themselves to form sentences Kris understood. He heard the music even after Yixing stopped playing. The guitar would sound for hours, and then Yixing’s voice would fill the house. He would move to the kitchen and sing anything that came to mind as he cooked up a dinner for the two of them.
He did stay longer, he stopped running so often. Yixing would stay for a month, then disappear for two days.
It was in third year university when Luhan met Kim Minseok. Her bangs were cut a little rough, her eyes sharp, and her smile bigger than Luhan’s heart could handle. Her hair was cut in short layers and more often than not, pulled back in a ponytail on top of her head.
“I heard you’re a pretty big deal on the boys’ soccer team,” she had said.
“Well I wouldn’t say big deal I mean,” Luhan stumbled over his words, scratching the back of his neck and trying to avoid her eyes.
“Care for a match?” She asked, tossing a soccer ball at his chest. Luhan agreed, and got his ass kicked.
“I was distracted!” Luhan whined, laying face up on Kris and Yixing’s living room floor. “She’s distracting! And she’s really good wow.”
“Well she must be good she kicked your sorry little ass,” Kris said.
“Shut up man she’s strong and tactical.”
“Is she pretty?” Yixing asked.
“Extremely gorgeous,” Luhan groaned, rolling over onto his side. Kris and Yixing looked at each other and smiled, before looking back down at Luhan.
“Did you ask her out yet?” Kris asked. Luhan flopped over onto his stomach and stretched his arms out in front of him.
“She’s too good for me,” he replied exasperatedly.
3 weeks later, Kris was pulled from his room by repeated banging on his front door. He opened it to find Luhan, still trying to knock frantically. He looked out of breath.
“She’s so warm her skin is so soft and she said yes is Yixing here?” The words tumbled out his mouth too fast.
“Yixing hasn’t been back since yesterday,” Kris replied.
“He’s gone again? He was doing so well. I wanted to tell him too but I guess I’ll settle for just you.” Luhan rambled off the entire story to Kris. How they were playing soccer and she tried to take the ball from him but they both stumbled and fell. Luhan didn’t even try to make the story sound cool. He fell, she was falling on top of him, and when he reached out instinctively to catch her, it just came out of his mouth. And she said yes. “I guess you could say she really, fell for me.” Luhan laughed out loud to himself and it took all of Kris’ strength not to punch his best friend in the gut for cracking that one.
Kris doesn’t remember what time it was when Yixing walked back through the door, but he remembers it being really late, or perhaps really early. Yixing closed the front door quietly and snuck into the bedroom.
“Yixing,” Kris groaned, reaching out his arms.
“I’m sorry babe, did I wake you?” He spoke in whispers.
“Where have you been?” Kris hadn’t really bothered asking before. Yixing always came back as if he had never left. He’d start talking and lead Kris down other pathways of conversation.
“Where did you go?” Kris asked again in his sleepy state. Yixing might have given him a reply, or he might have brushed it off, but Kris doesn’t really remember.
What did he say, Kris thinks later on. What did he tell me? Yixing changed into his pyjamas and left to use the bathroom. When he got back into the room, he crawled into the bed and underneath covers. He snaked his arms around his sleeping boyfriend and tucked his head under Kris’ chin. “Where have I been?” He whispered into Kris’ chest. “Where do I go, when you’re always right here.”
~
“Minseok has been picking up extra shifts at the hospital lately. She leaves early and comes home really late. But it does give me some extra time to a bit of…” Luhan pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Shopping,” he finally says.
“Shopping?”
“Ya,” Luhan says, looking down and playing with his fingers. “I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna ask her,” he says. “I just have to find the perfect ring first.”
~
A week before Christmas in their fourth year of university, Kris stood outside the jewellery shop just around the block from their shared apartment. The lights in the window reflected off the diamonds on display. He was standing out front, debating on if he should go in or not, and he pulled his scarf tighter when a cold wind rushed past. He rubbed his hands together and looked down at the rings. Another cold wind blew past and he reached up to pull his red knitted beanie further over his ears. “Next Christmas,” he said. “Next Christmas will be perfect.” Then he turned and headed back towards the apartment, smiling to himself and imagining where they would be in a year.
He arrived home to Yixing trying to untangle himself from a string of Christmas lights. “You’re home!”
“What are you doing?” Kris asked.
“I’m putting up the tree! But I wanted to wait for you to get home from your last exam, so I started testing the lights,” Yixing replied. “They work,” he said, yellows, greens and red flashing around him. Kris might have said something cheesy about Yixing being brighter than the lights, but all he remembers is unplugging the lights and kissing him before helping Yixing get himself and the lights untangled.
A burning smell reached Kris’ nose and he looked down at Yixing. “What’s that smell?” He asked.
“I forgot about dinner!” Yixing cried, and the fire alarm started. He ran to the kitchen yelling, “Kris can you open some windows? And maybe fan that out? Shit I burnt it. I’m gonna just order in Chinese then ok?” Kris remembers laughing at a frantic Yixing yelling from the kitchen, and thinking he could definitely do this forever.
~
“Better hurry then,” Kris says. “Don’t wait too long, she’ll say yes, I know it.”
“Well, I certainly hope so,” Luhan says, chuckling to himself. “It’d be pretty shitty if she said no after all these years.” Luhan can’t hide the nervousness in his face behind low chuckles, and Kris offers him a smile of encouragement.
For Kris, there was no ‘next Christmas’. The end of Kris’ life comes a little over a month before Christmas of their fourth year of university, and it comes suddenly. But it had slowly begun to deteriorate months before, when Yixing had started to break himself down.
~
One night in July, sheets thrown back and air conditioner on full blast, Kris woke up to Yixing silently sobbing next to him. He turned onto his side and reached his arm out, wrapping it around Yixing’s waist and pulling him in, back against chest. He didn’t say anything, just drew nonsensical patterns over Yixing’s stomach and up his side. Yixing quieted soon enough, and Kris never asked.
It would happen twice a month, then soon enough, twice a week. He heard Yixing’s tears more than he heard the sounds of his guitar. “Yixing,” he cooed one night, Yixing shaking in his arms. “Tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on? Please talk to me about this.” He waited for an answer, and he was prepared for a full on break down, but Yixing kept crying to himself, and never said a word.
At the beginning of October Kris woke up early in the morning to shattering sounds coming from in the kitchen. He flipped off the covers and ran out into the apartment. Yixing was standing there, pulling fragile plates out of the cupboard and throwing them to the floor.
“Yixing!” Kris called out to him.
“Don’t!” He screamed back, staring him hard in the face from behind the breakfast bar. “Don’t come in I swear to God Kris.” Tears stained his cheeks and he turned back to grab another plate.
“Yixing, don’t.” Kris took a step foreward, but stopped in his tracks when the sound of thin ceramic smashing against tiles echoed throughout the apartment. Kris watched as Yixing reached up and pulled the last plate out. “Yi-” When the last plate shattered against the floor, Yixing began laughing. He crouched to the floor, fingers lightly dancing over shards of broken ceramic.
“You’re all broken,” he whispered. “So broken, what a mess.” Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, dropping onto the tiles when Yixing’s breath hitched in his throat and he let out a sob.
“Yixing, please,” Kris sighed, fighting back his own tears. “Please talk to me now.” Yixing pulled his hand back and wrapped his arms around his knees, putting his face down.
Kris made his way around the bar and crouched down next to Yixing. He rubbed circles into his back. “Do you-” He took a breath before continuing, “Do you need me to call someone?” He asked. Yixing shook his head, still rested on his knees. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about Kris,” he mumbled. “There’s nothing at all.” He didn’t know how to reply, he didn’t know what to do at all, so he stood up and walked towards the closet by the front door. He took out the broom and brought it back with him to the kitchen. He stood in front of a still crouched over Yixing, who only looked up when Kris began to sweep.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“I’m cleaning it up,” Kris replied.
Yixing let out a sad laugh. “Cleaning it up,” he repeated under his breath.
Yixing spent the rest of the day sitting on the couch, staring ahead of him. His guitar sat on his lap, but not a single note was strum. “Today is Saturday?” His voice was soft, and he didn’t avert his gaze from ahead of him.
“Yes,” Kris replied.
“We are in October already?”
“We are.”
“Midterms are coming up then.” He tapped his fingers on the side of his guitar and then moved them down to the strings. He brushed his fingers over the strings, but not enough to make a sound. He didn’t speak much more than basic questions about the date or time that day. Kris sat next to him, watching shows he didn’t know existed on the television, and waiting for either Yixing or his guitar to start talking.
Yixing watched the sun go down at the end of the day, and as soon as it had completely set, he stood up, resting his guitar up against the couch. The only light came from the TV set, making shadows dance over Yixing’s features when he turned to face Kris. “Are you hungry?” Kris asked.
Yixing didn’t reply in words. He grabbed onto the front of Kris’ shirt with both hands and pulled him down, crashing their lips together. His hands shook and his lips trembled and he fell closer into Kris. Kris rested his hands on Yixing’s shoulders and pushed him away slightly. “Yixing,” he stared at him and Yixing’s eyes darted down. Before Kris could say anything else, Yixing moved himself onto Kris’ lap, placed his hands on his shoulders, and rolled his hips down. He breathed out and did it again.
“Oh,” Kris breathed, hands grabbing Yixing’s hips. Yixing buried his face into Kris’ neck, hands moving down his front. His fingers reached for the zipper on Kris’ pants, pulling it down, then undoing the button to his jeans. “I love you,” he whispered in Kris’ neck, hands worrying at the front of his jeans. Kris knew what Yixing wanted; he had been with him long enough, although it didn’t always go this way. He sounded sad. “I love you,” he said again. “I love you I love you.”
“Yixing…”
“Do you love me?” Yixing stopped his hand and brought his face up, resting his forehead against Kris’. He moved his hand up under Kris’ white t shirt, waiting for an answer. Yixing’s fingers burned.
“More than anything,” Kris replied.
“Show me.” Kris let his hands travel down Yixing’s hips and towards his thighs. He claimed Yixing’s lips with his and Yixing fell open, coaxing Kris’ tongue inside. He ran his hands around the underside of Yixing’s thighs.
“Yixing.”
“Here,” he breathed. “Let’s just do it right here.” He moved himself off of Kris and lay himself down on the couch, pulling Kris down with him. He tugged at Kris’ shirt until he straightened up and pulled it over his head. Kris let his hands fall on the hem of Yixing’s shirt next, pushing it up and letting his fingers run along hot skin and pert nipples. Yixing let out a quiet squeak and squirmed before raising his hips up against Kris’ leg. He grabbed Kris’ wrist and guided his hand down to his lap. “Now,” he said.
Kris made quick work of Yixing’s jeans, Yixing lifting his hips again to help them off. He remembers not trying to rush it, but Yixing had other plans, finishing what he started and pulling Kris’ pants off next. He remembers Yixing chanting things like “Hurry up” and “Now Kris, now.”
“Yixing you’re not ready, I don’t want to hurt you,” Kris said, two fingers in.
“It’s fine,” he replied, hips rising and fingers clutching Kris’ biceps. “It’s fine just do it I need you now.” He’s pretty sure Yixing pulled the bottle from somewhere between the couch cushions, but he doesn’t remember why it was there in the first place.
Yixing’s face contorted in pain, nails sinking further into Kris’ arms the further he pushed in.
“Wait,” Yixing panted. Kris stilled himself and reached out to push Yixing’s brown bangs off his face, they were getting too long again. He took several breaths, then nodded his head. Kris sank deeper before pulling out and slamming back in. Yixing cried out and pulled sharply at Kris’ arms. He panted heavily, but threw his legs up and wrapped them around Kris’ waist, pulling him down.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please, please, please.”
Kris didn’t know exactly what Yixing wanted, so he just did what his body told him to do, and he hoped Yixing would understand. He picked up his speed, sweat sticking his cheaply dyed hair to his forehead. He revelled in Yixing’s sounds, especially when he curled his fingers around him. Yixing finished first and Kris let himself go shortly after. He fell onto Yixing, sweat slicked bodies pressed together and trying to catch a breath. “I love you,” he whispered into Yixing’s ear, leaving kisses across his face and up to his nose, then a final soft peck on his lips.
“I know,” Yixing replied, tangling his hands into Kris’ hair. He let out a sigh, and it sounded content.
Kris doesn’t remember exactly what time he dragged Yixing and himself to bed that night, but he woke up the next morning alone. The apartment was empty. Yixing had taken his shoes, jacket, a small suitcase of clothes and his guitar. There was a piece of paper left on the kitchen counter. I’m sorry, I did it again, read Yixing’s careful hand writing.
Two days later, there was a knock on his apartment door. “He wasn’t at our dance practice today,” Luhan sighed. “We perform in a few weeks. Please don’t tell me that he-”
Kris nodded. “Left two days ago.”
“He’ll be back soon then, right?” Luhan tried to sound hopeful, but didn’t quite make it.
Kris shrugged. “I don’t know, I never know.”
“But he was doing so-”
“I know,” he snapped cutting Luhan off. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and took a breath before continuing. “I know, Luhan. He was doing to so well.”
“How are you doing?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Yes it is Kris. You know it is.” Then Kris heard Luhan raise his voice for the first time in a long time. “You don’t even ask where he goes! He leaves and no one has any idea where he’s gone to! I don’t care if he’s looking for inspiration or whatever bullshit you think it is, I worry! Yixing is my friend too, and having no idea where he is for weeks at time is worrisome Kris. He could be dead, and we wouldn’t even know.”
“What do you want me to do Luhan?” He knew Luhan was right, but he raised his voice anyways.
“Call him,” Luhan enunciated. “Call him like the worried boyfriend I know you are. Call him and tell him to come home. I’ve got a midterm to write, I’ll text you later.” Luhan adjusted the bag on his back and turned around out the door.
The phone rang four times before getting cut off by Yixing’s voice mail. He waited a couple hours before trying again, only to get the same result. He received a text from Luhan later that night.
Did you call him?
Ya but no answer…
Try again.
I’m trying Luhan.
Later when he tried again, he was met with the same result. “Hey uhhh, it’s Kris. Luhan and I are just a little worried. So…. Call me back? I love you.” He didn’t get much sleep that night, and Yixing never got back to him. He tried calling the next day too with no luck. Any text he sent went unanswered as well.
“I’m calling the police,” Luhan said at the two week mark. They sat in the café on campus where Luhan had first introduced Kris to Yixing. “He hasn’t responded to anything or even tried to contact you. Aren’t you worried?”
“Of course I’m worried,” Kris sighed. He looked down at the table then tapped his fingers twice. “But this has happened before Luhan. He never contacts me when he goes looking. And I never know how long he’ll be gone.”
“Yixing is going to fail all of his classes, he hasn’t attended the midterm exams and he’s falling very behind.”
“Music is different from science. He’ll fail if he can’t write anything either.”
Luhan sighed. “What’s the longest he’s been gone?”
“Maybe two weeks? But it’s been a while since he’s done this.”
“I give it three more days,” Luhan said, looking seriously at Kris. “If you can’t contact him and if he doesn’t come back within the next three days, I’m calling the police and filing a missing persons report.” He looked at Kris for a few moments longer before shaking his head. “God dammit I’m so worried.”
Later that night when Kris had his face buried in science textbooks and his desk was a mess of notes, his phone vibrated twice. He scattered the papers even more, trying to find his phone under the mess. A new message was up on the screen. Sorry, I’m fine, was all it read. He sent a quick text to Luhan, and he let it go for another week.
At the end of the third week, Kris got home to find a mess of clothes on the bedroom floor, but Yixing wasn’t there. On the kitchen counter was a new note, written on the back of a blank music sheet.
I’m sorry, I borrowed a bit of money, but here I picked you some shells. And the Lavender smells nice. Three seashells sat by the note, and in a cup of water were three stems of Lavender.
“You look like shit,” Luhan said at the end of four weeks.
“You too,” Kris replied with a weak smile.
Winter came in the middle of November that year. It came suddenly and it came wildly. Kris cursed under his breath when he almost slipped on ice for the umpteenth time that day. He held the edges of his jacket hood over his head so it wouldn’t blow off in the wind. He was relieved when he entered his building, shaking the snow off his boots. The building wasn’t big, five floors and a basement, and Kris’ apartment was on the second floor. He took the stairs two at a time, it had been one of those days that he just needed to be over. He swung open the apartment door to find empty sheets of music scattered all over the living room floor.
“Yixing?” He called from the doorway, kicking his boots off and running in. Yixing sat at the small coffee table in the middle of the living room hunched over a mess of papers. He didn’t look up when Kris came in. “Yixing,” he repeated, and still got no response. “Yixing!” He yelled, and he could feel his temper rising. This time, Yixing looked up.
“Welcome home,” he said casually.
“Welcome home?” Yixing pressed his lips into a line and tapped his pencil on the table twice. Then twice more, and twice more. “Stop! Stop tapping your pencil oh my God!” Yixing looked taken aback. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out, so Kris continued. “Where the Hell have you been?” And then something snapped. “No, you know what, it doesn’t matter, it’s not like you’d tell me anyways. You never do. You run off and you don’t contact anyone. Do you even understand how worried we get?”
“I-”
“Luhan was about to call the police. I cannot believe how ridiculous you are Yixing!” He wanted to stop yelling, he never like yelling at people, especially Yixing, but he didn’t stop.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Yixing said softly.
“How am I supposed to even try if you never talk to me?”
“I can’t hear it Kris!” Yixing snapped at him. “I can’t talk to you because you don’t know what it’s like. You can’t understand!” He stood up and dropped his pencil on the table. “I can’t hear the music anymore so I go look for it! I understand that you’re worried but I’m not a baby.” Yixing was practically screaming at him “You and Luhan are smart; you have your scientific minds you can go anywhere and do anything. This is all I have, music is all I have. If I can’t even hear that then I have nothing!”
“You have me,” Kris stressed, throwing a hand to his chest and staring at Yixing hard.
“Do you love me?” Yixing’s voice was a lot lower than before, and wavered slightly. The words still echo is Kris’ head and he wonders why he took such a long pause before even trying to form an answer. He shouldn’t have had to think about it, but he did. And Yixing shouldn’t have had to ask, but he did. When he didn’t get an answer, he pushed past Kris and headed to the door way, grabbing his jacket.
“Where are you going?” Yixing didn’t answer, just threw on his jacket, pulled on shoes and pulled the door open. “Yixing answer me where are you going?”
“What does it matter? Don’t I do this all the time anyways?” He ran out the door and towards the stairs.
“Yixing come on!” Kris pulled his boots and jacket on and went after him. “It’s a blizzard out there!” Yixing was half a flight of stairs ahead of him.
“Leave me alone!” He called. “You don’t get it no one gets it!” Yixing ran out the building ahead of Kris, and he didn’t stop.
Kris was too far behind. Maybe if he was faster, he could have pushed him out of the way. Maybe if Yixing were faster, he would have missed it. The image still plays in Kris’ head, slow, but not slow enough for him to catch up; and the sounds echo louder than Yixing’s music ever did. All the songs he ever heard got drowned out. He heard brakes being slammed on, the blaring of a horn, and then the truck hit ice. There’s a scream taken by the wind and he doesn’t know who it came from. Kris fell into the snow, telling himself it was his bones breaking and that surely that was his blood on the ice, not Yixing’s, because Yixing was never here. A car door slammed, someone was yelling, and he’s pretty sure there were multiple people there now, but he doesn’t remember. Kris could feel his heart stop and he knew that was it. Sirens echoed in the distance, someone was still yelling and his legs went numb from the cold. He waited for everything to go black, but it never happened. His bones weren’t broken, that wasn’t his blood, and his heart still had a beat.
And then there was a rush. A rush of medics and police and by standers in the freezing evening air. “It’s my fault,” he choked out at the police officer in front of him. “It’s my fault.” Tears started to stream down his face and he shook his head, as if he could will it from his mind. He looked up at the officer. “Is he…” His voice trailed off, because somehow he already knew. The already icy winter was freezing Kris’ knees, and it had frozen Yixing at 22.
In all the years Kris had known Luhan, he had never once seen him cry. The closest he ever came was when they were 10, shortly after they had met each other. Luhan had fallen off his bike pretty hard, his legs and arms scratched up and bloody. He looked like he was going to cry, but instead he looked up at Kris and said, “It’s hurts. It hurts a lot, but big boys don’t cry.”
Kris remembers Luhan doing so well. He held Kris’ hand during the funeral, and helped carry the casket out to the hearse, face straight. But when they dropped his friend into the ground, white snow blowing lightly around them, he linked his arm with Kris’ and turned to bury his face into his shoulder. He stood there shaking, and they very much resembled the scene across from Kris where Yixing’s parents stood.
Kris stopped Yixing’s parents later in the day. “It’s my fault,” he said. “We argued, and he ran out into the street. It’s my fault.” His voice faded and faltered as the tears started again. “If I had just welcomed him home properly….” But they didn’t blame him, no one ever did.
The only one who ever blamed Kris for Yixing’s death, was Kris himself.
~
Kris looks up at the sky then back down to check his watch.
“It’s already after noon,” Luhan tells him, and Kris hums in response.
“Do you want to get some lunch?” Luhan asks, standing up.
“I think I’ll stay here just a little bit longer,” Kris replies.
“Kris…”
“It’s fine Luhan, you go ahead. There’s a good noodle place a few blocks away. I’ll meet you there in 20 minutes?” Luhan sighs and claps his friend’s shoulder.
“Don’t be too long,” he says, before turning and leaving Kris by himself. He stares and the stone in front of him. It’s smaller, and closer to the ground than some of the other ones around. Everyone agreed that Yixing wouldn’t have wanted something big. It had had it’s fair share of rough weather, but it still gleamed in the sun.
ZHANG YIXING
1990 - 2013
ALWAYS RUNNING, NEVER LOST
There was nowhere Yixing really truly belonged. But Kris is selfish, so he brushes the stone with his fingers, then places his hand on his heart, and decides he’ll keep Yixing there.
“Maybe I’ll listen to Luhan this time. I think you’d laugh at me if you were here, Xing. Why would anyone listen to Luhan? But he’s right.” Kris sighs. “I shouldn’t come here so often, we’re running out of things to talk about. I’ll come once a month then, but I know that sooner or later that will turn into once every three months, and then once a year.” He lets a tear stream down his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “It’s been over two years,” he says, recalling what Luhan said earlier. He shakes his head. “Details are getting blurry. I don’t remember what your hair felt like between my fingers, I can’t feel the spark on my lips after the first time we kissed.” He chokes back a sob. “Sometimes, I think about the first song you wrote for me, and I can’t recall the melody. I don’t remember what it sounds like.” He dips his head and lets some tears fall, then he looks at the flowers Luhan planted. “But you smelled like Lavender, and you liked the colour purple, and you loved music more than anything else. I’m sure that you loved it even more than you ever loved me.” He wipes the tears from his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. He pauses for several minutes before talking again. “I met someone,” he says. “Don’t tell Luhan yet though. I don’t know if this is ok, but he convinced me to go out for drinks this weekend. I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m so sorry but I can’t be waiting for the rest of my life. You aren’t coming back,” he chokes out.
He sits there for what he knows is longer than 20 minutes, because then his phone is going off. “You said 20 minutes,” Luhan’s voice comes through the line. “Hurry up I got us a table already it will look like I got stood up by my girl if you don’t come soon.”
Kris lets himself smile a little and thinks he definitely hates Luhan; but Luhan is his best friend and the reason Kris never went looking for Yixing at the bottom of a bottle.
“Alright I’m coming,” he says, then hangs up. He stands and looks at the stone once more. “I’ll be back Yixing, wait for me.”
Author's Notes: girl!Minseok gives me life. Also this is a mess I am so sorry ofmg I haven't written in so long but this one got me out of my slump so here we go~
Pairing: Fanxing
Rating: R
Words: 8,162
Warnings: Character death
Summary: He has been here so many times he knows this place more than he knows himself, which, he thinks, isn’t very much at all.
{Anthem of a Runaway}
Kris sits in the cool morning grass, running his fingers along the dewy blades. Luhan had told him to stop coming so often. “It’s ok now,” he had said. “It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll understand.” But Kris has been here so many times he knows this place more than he knows himself, which, he thinks, isn’t very much at all. And he doesn’t want to know himself, he doesn’t even like himself. But Luhan, Luhan he dislikes even more, he thinks, as he reaches forward to touch the purple flowers. Because these are new, which means that Luhan hasn’t even taken his own advice.
“You’re here again.” The voice from behind confirms his thoughts.
“So are you,” he replies, and Luhan sighs.
“Kris, why do you keep coming? It’s been over two years.”
“Because the sounds of screeching tires still drown out the sounds of music.”
“It’s not your fault.” Luhan places a hand on Kris’s shoulder and says, “It’s really not your fault.”
But Luhan is wrong, it is his fault, it’s definitely his fault and he hates Luhan even more for saying it isn’t. Then again, there are lots of reasons to hate Luhan. Like that time where Kris was ten and he had just moved to China from Canada. Luhan had laughed at him and called his accent funny, but Luhan was his first friend. Or that time when they were sixteen and he found out the girl he liked, liked Luhan instead; but they never did date. Or when they were nineteen and Luhan got into the better university even though Kris tried harder, but he went to Kris’s university anyway. Perhaps the most important reason to hate Luhan however, was in first year university when he introduced Kris to his friend from the dance club; but Yixing really knew how to make memories, and Kris so easily forgets.
~
“There’s someone I want you to meet!” Luhan had said over the phone. “Meet us in the little café on campus in 20 minutes?” He was in the library studying and he can’t remember why he said yes, but nevertheless, he did, and he found himself in said café with his book filled backpack slung over his shoulder, right on time.
Kris spotted Luhan at the back of the café as soon as he entered. He was sipping his coffee (probably one of those fancy ones) and watching the boy in front of him, who wore a bright blue hoodie and was hunched over papers spread all over the table. Kris slid into the seat next to Luhan at looked at the boy across the table. It was music that he was writing, his dark brown hair falling across his eyes. The boy finished writing his last line of notes and tapped his pencil on the table twice before looking up to acknowledge Kris’s existence for the first time.
“Hi,” he said with a smile. “You must be Kris. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Zhang Yixing.” He held his hand out across the table and Kris was slow to react. Because Yixing was polite and his voice was soft but Kris’s ears were ringing. He shook Yixing’s hand and tried to offer a small smile, which he realized didn’t really work very well when Yixing said, “Gosh, you’re awfully serious.”
Luhan chimed in with, “He’s also awfully dumb.”
Two weeks later there was a knock at Kris’s door. He opened it to find Luhan standing there. “I thought you were going out with that Yixing guy tonight,” Kris said, and Luhan shrugged.
“I don’t know where he is,” he replied. “He’s always disappearing, and he’s pretty forgetful.” Then Luhan laughed. “I’m afraid he’ll forget to come back altogether one day. But can you help me with our bio assignment?”
“I thought you were the smart one,” Kris muttered to himself.
~
“Kris, you need to stop focusing on the last day and try to remember the years before.” Luhan sits himself down on the ground next to Kris and crosses his legs so their knees are touching. But it isn’t just the last day he thinks about, he thinks about the days after as well.
“Where was Yixing going when he ran out?” They had asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I never did.”
“What was your relationship with Zhang Yixing?”
Kris had sat there quietly, thinking about it, before finally replying with, “I don’t know.” And it wasn’t that far off from the truth. Yixing was always running, but he always came back, and Kris was always stuck there waiting.
~
They met for the second time at the same coffee shop, but this time it was completely unplanned. The table at the back was covered in sheets of music, and Yixing was bent over one sheet. He wrote a few notes, then sat back in the chair, tapped his pencil on the table a few times, then pushed the sheet away. He looked stuck, and he looked frustrated, so Kris found himself approaching the boy.
“Hey,” he said, and his voice came out deep and very unenthusiastic, which he hadn’t planned, but when it came to Yixing, nothing was ever planned. Yixing looked at him. He knitted his eyebrows and tapped his pencil on the table twice before saying, “I’m stuck.”
Kris pulled out the chair across from Yixing and sat down. “You’re writing music?”
“I’m trying, but I can’t come up with anything,” he sighed. “It’s been like this for weeks, I can’t come up with anything, I can’t connect it.”
“Writers block?” And then they were having a conversation about how Yixing had been writing music for as long as he could remember. The songs just came to him, and he put them on paper. He picked up his father’s guitar at age three and never put it down. The piano came sometime later in his life. And he sings. He doesn’t think he sings well, but he still sings.
“I need inspiration,” he said. “I need to go somewhere new.” He stared out the windows behind Kris. Then he grabbed one of the discarded music sheets and flipped it over to the plain back side. Messy grey numbers were scribbled into the white paper and then he handed it to Kris. “That’s my number,” he said.
“Why?” It really wasn’t what Kris had meant to say but Yixing didn’t give him a weird look. Instead he just shrugged.
“Just in case.”
The next day Kris figured if he was going to make it through his next class, he needed a coffee, so he stopped into the little café on campus. It was mostly empty except for a couple people in line and a boy sitting at the back table. He just wanted a coffee, but he walked past the line and straight to the back table where a frustrated looking Yixing sat.
“Do you come here often?” And if that wasn’t cliché Kris doesn’t know what is. Yixing’s expression softened.
“Good morning to you too,” he said. He placed his pencil down and looks up at Kris. “You never texted me.”
“Uhhhh, sorry, I didn’t know…” He stumbled over his words a little bit.
“How am I supposed to get your number too?” Kris pulled out his phone and started typing. Seconds later, Yixing’s phone started buzzing from somewhere under his papers.
Hey, it’s Kris : )
Yixing giggled, dimple showing on his right cheek and Kris’ ear began ringing again.
~
“Luhan, did you plant these?” He’s looking at the purple flowers in front of them, and Luhan nods.
“A couple days ago. They’re just pansies. Purple, Yixing’s favourite colour, but they’ll die when winter comes. We’ll have to plant new ones. Maybe next year, we can plant some Lavender.”
~
Are you home?
Kris was sitting at his desk, going over his notes from classes that day when his phone went off.
Ya, why?
Let me in.
Yixing stood in his doorway, guitar slung over his shoulder and both hands gripping the strap.
“I think I got something,” he said. “Can I get your opinion?”
“But I don’t know anything about music,” Kris said.
“That’s fine, it’s not finished yet, I just need a starting opinion.” Kris agreed and then Yixing was seated on his couch, guitar out of its case and resting on his leg. He picked at each string once, then began to play. The sounds that flowed out blended in unison to create what Kris thought was a beautiful sounding tune. At first Kris listened, and then he stared. He heard the notes, he heard the music, but what he saw with his eyes was more beautiful than what he heard with his ears. Yixing strummed at his guitar and Kris forgot that he was studying and also forgot what he was supposed to be studying. When Yixing strummed the last note, he locked his eyes with Kris’ and his mind went as blank as the backside of Yixing’s music sheets.
“That’s all I have,” Yixing’s voice was almost a whisper. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful,” was all Kris could say.
Yixing smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I haven’t written any of it down.”
~
“He was always making music, but he never wrote any of it down,” Kris says.
“He used to, he used to write it all down. But then he stopped because he didn’t need to write it down. All his songs were about you." Luhan picks at a blade of grass then starts to speak again. “You know, he really lov-“
“Don’t,” Kris cuts him off.
“It’s true though, he did.”
“Yixing was an arts student. He loved everything and everyone. He was in love with the idea of being in love.”
~
Yixing would randomly stop by Kris’ apartment. At first he would always play something new, but then some days he would leave his guitar at home, and he’d bring a movie instead. He’d make Kris sit on the couch and watch it with him. Sometimes they were dumb romantic comedies, sometimes they were blockbuster actions, and sometimes they were beautifully done foreign films or something you would only see at a film festival. Yixing liked those best, but Kris liked the blockbuster actions. Yixing would sit too close and pull a blanket up over the both of them. Sometimes he would rest his head on Kris’ shoulder or link their arms. Yixing filled his space; and he smelled like Lavender, which Kris decided he liked the smell of.
Yixing never gave notice of where he was going or when he was coming back. Sometimes he would stop by three days in a row, and then Kris wouldn’t hear from him for four. The longest Kris went without seeing or hearing from Yixing was two weeks, and he realized in that time that he missed the boy’s company. But Yixing came back, and he came without notice. “I finished it,” he said. “I finished a whole song.”
He let himself into the apartment and went straight to Kris’ room; and Kris followed him there like a puppy.
He sat himself down in the desk chair and gestured for Kris to sit on the bed across from him. He put his guitar on his lap and said, “This song, it’s for you.”
It lasted about 5 minutes. Kris listened carefully to the entire thing. He watched Yixing strum and he watched Yixing’s fingers move from string to string as he switched chords. There were no words, just music, and to Kris, it was perfect. But then again he wasn’t a music student, so he was pretty sure he wouldn’t technically know if it were perfect.
When he finished playing, Yixing set the guitar next to him against the side of the desk and stood up. He walked straight for Kris and stopped in front of him. “Did you like it?”
“Yes,” Kris said, and Yixing put his hand on the back of Kris’ neck. “It was really good, I liked it a lo-” Kris never finished the end of his sentence because Yixing’s lips were on his and he forgot what he was saying anyways. Yixing pulled back as fast as he went in, and a blush crept onto his face as his mind caught up with his body and embarrassment flushed his cheeks. Kris doesn’t remember what he said, only that Yixing was stumbling over words and playing with his fingers and looking every which way except for Kris’.
He hadn’t realized that he wanted that until he reached up to pull Yixing back down. He kissed him again, for longer this time. It was Yixing who broke it again. “Is this ok?” He asked. “I mean, I didn’t know if you…. You know…. Liked guys.”
“I like you,” Kris replied without thinking, and Yixing was in his lap kissing him again.
He disappeared for two days after that.
~
Kris sighs and looks up at the blue sky. It’s getting brighter out, and it looks like it’s going to be a nice day. “Where was he always going?” He wasn’t really asking Luhan, but he replies anyways.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I thought you did. He never talked to me about that stuff.”
“I don’t think he talked to anyone about that stuff. He was looking for inspiration though.”
“I thought he already found it.”
Kris shakes his head. “I was never his inspiration, more like a source of amusement.”
~
Yixing always came back, but he came without a word. He would show up at Kris’ door, hoping someone was home. Kris usually was. He would come back and throw himself into Kris’ embrace, and he would smile as though he had found something wonderful, but never shared it with anyone.
Except one time, Kris remembers, Yixing wasn’t smiling. He stood at the doorway, hair soaked and clothes sticking to his body. He was shivering, and he was crying.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” Kris asked, pulling Yixing into the apartment. He never got an answer. “We need to get you out of these clothes and dried off before you get a cold.” He was about to go off to get a towel but Yixing reached out and fisted his hand into Kris’ shirt.
“Need you,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. His grip tightened and he repeated, “I just need you.”
Kris laced his fingers into Yixing’s wet hair and leaned down to kiss him. But Yixing got there first, wrapping his arms around Kris’ neck and clashing their mouths together. It wasn’t clean and Yixing’s entire body screamed with want, and Kris was willing to give him exactly what he wanted. He crouched slightly, wrapped one arm around Yixing’s upper back, and the other underneath his knees, lifting him bridal style. Yixing gasped and broke the kiss.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” Kris breathed, voice deep. He made his way to the bedroom and placed Yixing down on the bed. Their mouths quickly found each other again, and Kris’ hands found their way under Yixing’s shirt, pressing up against cold skin and traveling up his torso.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before, of course he had, but it was a lot better actually happening. He peeled off slick fabric and Yixing let him. He watched the boy beneath him be put back together as he fell further apart. And Kris fell apart too. He felt between cracks of skin and connected lips. He was swept away by rolling hips and swore he’d follow Yixing’s voice to the ends of the earth. He wrapped his arms around Yixing and pulled him even closer, leaving butterfly kisses on his neck to reduce the ones in his stomach, laced hearts with fingers, and fell deeper with every push inside.
Yixing looked up at Kris and pushed his sweat slicked bangs off his forehead, then he giggled, dimple imprinted in his right cheek. Kris smiled at the sight, and he was pretty sure in that moment -
“I love you.” It came out a little more than a whisper, but Yixing didn’t look away, he stared him in the eyes and waited for a response.
Kris can’t remember what he said, but he remembers waking up with an arm slung over his chest and legs tangled up with his. Yixing was still there.
~
“Yixing’s body was always moving faster than his mind,” Luhan says. “That’s why he was never in the right place and the right time. Before he could even stop himself he was running off again. I thought that of all people, you might be able to hold him down.”
“You thought wrong.”
“So did you.”
Kris sighs. “Yixing was grown enough he could make his own decisions. If he wanted to stay, he’d stay, and if he wanted to run, he would do that too.”
“Somewhere along the way he started staying longer than he disappeared though.”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t know.”
Luhan looks at him, confused. “Why wouldn’t I know, Yixing was one of my closest friends.”
“Not best?” Kris inquires with a raise of an eyebrow.
“That’s you, you dumbass.”
Kris sighs with a small smile, as if he didn’t already know that. “You didn’t know because it happened in third year university.”
Luhan’s mouth forms an ‘o’. “Hey I wasn’t that distracted.” Kris laughs, and it’s genuine and it makes him feel a bit lighter.
“How is she by the way?” He asks.
“She’s good, busy, but good.”
~
It was year 3 of university when Yixing packed up his stuff and moved it into Kris’ apartment.
“I’ll help pay rent,” he said. “And I’ll even make you breakfast.” Yixing didn’t have to bargain his way in, Kris had already said yes, but he put up offers anyways.
Yixing didn’t have very many belongings, and it only took him one trip to bring it all. A suitcase of clothes, a bag of books, and a guitar slung over his shoulder is how he had walked into his new home. He dropped it all on the living room floor, except for the guitar which he rested against the side of the couch.
“This is it,” he said with a smile. Kris had kissed him until he couldn’t breathe in the middle of the living room.
“Finally,” he said, out of breath. Yixing barely gave him a moment before he was pulling him back down.
The apartment was just big enough for the both of them, and the fridge always had just enough food for two. Living on just enough, turned out to be more than they needed.
Yixing’s music would ring out from the living room while Kris studied in the bedroom. It was a soothing sound that on most days, helped him concentrate. It filled his head, made him smile, and the words on the page untangled themselves to form sentences Kris understood. He heard the music even after Yixing stopped playing. The guitar would sound for hours, and then Yixing’s voice would fill the house. He would move to the kitchen and sing anything that came to mind as he cooked up a dinner for the two of them.
He did stay longer, he stopped running so often. Yixing would stay for a month, then disappear for two days.
It was in third year university when Luhan met Kim Minseok. Her bangs were cut a little rough, her eyes sharp, and her smile bigger than Luhan’s heart could handle. Her hair was cut in short layers and more often than not, pulled back in a ponytail on top of her head.
“I heard you’re a pretty big deal on the boys’ soccer team,” she had said.
“Well I wouldn’t say big deal I mean,” Luhan stumbled over his words, scratching the back of his neck and trying to avoid her eyes.
“Care for a match?” She asked, tossing a soccer ball at his chest. Luhan agreed, and got his ass kicked.
“I was distracted!” Luhan whined, laying face up on Kris and Yixing’s living room floor. “She’s distracting! And she’s really good wow.”
“Well she must be good she kicked your sorry little ass,” Kris said.
“Shut up man she’s strong and tactical.”
“Is she pretty?” Yixing asked.
“Extremely gorgeous,” Luhan groaned, rolling over onto his side. Kris and Yixing looked at each other and smiled, before looking back down at Luhan.
“Did you ask her out yet?” Kris asked. Luhan flopped over onto his stomach and stretched his arms out in front of him.
“She’s too good for me,” he replied exasperatedly.
3 weeks later, Kris was pulled from his room by repeated banging on his front door. He opened it to find Luhan, still trying to knock frantically. He looked out of breath.
“She’s so warm her skin is so soft and she said yes is Yixing here?” The words tumbled out his mouth too fast.
“Yixing hasn’t been back since yesterday,” Kris replied.
“He’s gone again? He was doing so well. I wanted to tell him too but I guess I’ll settle for just you.” Luhan rambled off the entire story to Kris. How they were playing soccer and she tried to take the ball from him but they both stumbled and fell. Luhan didn’t even try to make the story sound cool. He fell, she was falling on top of him, and when he reached out instinctively to catch her, it just came out of his mouth. And she said yes. “I guess you could say she really, fell for me.” Luhan laughed out loud to himself and it took all of Kris’ strength not to punch his best friend in the gut for cracking that one.
Kris doesn’t remember what time it was when Yixing walked back through the door, but he remembers it being really late, or perhaps really early. Yixing closed the front door quietly and snuck into the bedroom.
“Yixing,” Kris groaned, reaching out his arms.
“I’m sorry babe, did I wake you?” He spoke in whispers.
“Where have you been?” Kris hadn’t really bothered asking before. Yixing always came back as if he had never left. He’d start talking and lead Kris down other pathways of conversation.
“Where did you go?” Kris asked again in his sleepy state. Yixing might have given him a reply, or he might have brushed it off, but Kris doesn’t really remember.
What did he say, Kris thinks later on. What did he tell me? Yixing changed into his pyjamas and left to use the bathroom. When he got back into the room, he crawled into the bed and underneath covers. He snaked his arms around his sleeping boyfriend and tucked his head under Kris’ chin. “Where have I been?” He whispered into Kris’ chest. “Where do I go, when you’re always right here.”
~
“Minseok has been picking up extra shifts at the hospital lately. She leaves early and comes home really late. But it does give me some extra time to a bit of…” Luhan pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Shopping,” he finally says.
“Shopping?”
“Ya,” Luhan says, looking down and playing with his fingers. “I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna ask her,” he says. “I just have to find the perfect ring first.”
~
A week before Christmas in their fourth year of university, Kris stood outside the jewellery shop just around the block from their shared apartment. The lights in the window reflected off the diamonds on display. He was standing out front, debating on if he should go in or not, and he pulled his scarf tighter when a cold wind rushed past. He rubbed his hands together and looked down at the rings. Another cold wind blew past and he reached up to pull his red knitted beanie further over his ears. “Next Christmas,” he said. “Next Christmas will be perfect.” Then he turned and headed back towards the apartment, smiling to himself and imagining where they would be in a year.
He arrived home to Yixing trying to untangle himself from a string of Christmas lights. “You’re home!”
“What are you doing?” Kris asked.
“I’m putting up the tree! But I wanted to wait for you to get home from your last exam, so I started testing the lights,” Yixing replied. “They work,” he said, yellows, greens and red flashing around him. Kris might have said something cheesy about Yixing being brighter than the lights, but all he remembers is unplugging the lights and kissing him before helping Yixing get himself and the lights untangled.
A burning smell reached Kris’ nose and he looked down at Yixing. “What’s that smell?” He asked.
“I forgot about dinner!” Yixing cried, and the fire alarm started. He ran to the kitchen yelling, “Kris can you open some windows? And maybe fan that out? Shit I burnt it. I’m gonna just order in Chinese then ok?” Kris remembers laughing at a frantic Yixing yelling from the kitchen, and thinking he could definitely do this forever.
~
“Better hurry then,” Kris says. “Don’t wait too long, she’ll say yes, I know it.”
“Well, I certainly hope so,” Luhan says, chuckling to himself. “It’d be pretty shitty if she said no after all these years.” Luhan can’t hide the nervousness in his face behind low chuckles, and Kris offers him a smile of encouragement.
For Kris, there was no ‘next Christmas’. The end of Kris’ life comes a little over a month before Christmas of their fourth year of university, and it comes suddenly. But it had slowly begun to deteriorate months before, when Yixing had started to break himself down.
~
One night in July, sheets thrown back and air conditioner on full blast, Kris woke up to Yixing silently sobbing next to him. He turned onto his side and reached his arm out, wrapping it around Yixing’s waist and pulling him in, back against chest. He didn’t say anything, just drew nonsensical patterns over Yixing’s stomach and up his side. Yixing quieted soon enough, and Kris never asked.
It would happen twice a month, then soon enough, twice a week. He heard Yixing’s tears more than he heard the sounds of his guitar. “Yixing,” he cooed one night, Yixing shaking in his arms. “Tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on? Please talk to me about this.” He waited for an answer, and he was prepared for a full on break down, but Yixing kept crying to himself, and never said a word.
At the beginning of October Kris woke up early in the morning to shattering sounds coming from in the kitchen. He flipped off the covers and ran out into the apartment. Yixing was standing there, pulling fragile plates out of the cupboard and throwing them to the floor.
“Yixing!” Kris called out to him.
“Don’t!” He screamed back, staring him hard in the face from behind the breakfast bar. “Don’t come in I swear to God Kris.” Tears stained his cheeks and he turned back to grab another plate.
“Yixing, don’t.” Kris took a step foreward, but stopped in his tracks when the sound of thin ceramic smashing against tiles echoed throughout the apartment. Kris watched as Yixing reached up and pulled the last plate out. “Yi-” When the last plate shattered against the floor, Yixing began laughing. He crouched to the floor, fingers lightly dancing over shards of broken ceramic.
“You’re all broken,” he whispered. “So broken, what a mess.” Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, dropping onto the tiles when Yixing’s breath hitched in his throat and he let out a sob.
“Yixing, please,” Kris sighed, fighting back his own tears. “Please talk to me now.” Yixing pulled his hand back and wrapped his arms around his knees, putting his face down.
Kris made his way around the bar and crouched down next to Yixing. He rubbed circles into his back. “Do you-” He took a breath before continuing, “Do you need me to call someone?” He asked. Yixing shook his head, still rested on his knees. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about Kris,” he mumbled. “There’s nothing at all.” He didn’t know how to reply, he didn’t know what to do at all, so he stood up and walked towards the closet by the front door. He took out the broom and brought it back with him to the kitchen. He stood in front of a still crouched over Yixing, who only looked up when Kris began to sweep.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“I’m cleaning it up,” Kris replied.
Yixing let out a sad laugh. “Cleaning it up,” he repeated under his breath.
Yixing spent the rest of the day sitting on the couch, staring ahead of him. His guitar sat on his lap, but not a single note was strum. “Today is Saturday?” His voice was soft, and he didn’t avert his gaze from ahead of him.
“Yes,” Kris replied.
“We are in October already?”
“We are.”
“Midterms are coming up then.” He tapped his fingers on the side of his guitar and then moved them down to the strings. He brushed his fingers over the strings, but not enough to make a sound. He didn’t speak much more than basic questions about the date or time that day. Kris sat next to him, watching shows he didn’t know existed on the television, and waiting for either Yixing or his guitar to start talking.
Yixing watched the sun go down at the end of the day, and as soon as it had completely set, he stood up, resting his guitar up against the couch. The only light came from the TV set, making shadows dance over Yixing’s features when he turned to face Kris. “Are you hungry?” Kris asked.
Yixing didn’t reply in words. He grabbed onto the front of Kris’ shirt with both hands and pulled him down, crashing their lips together. His hands shook and his lips trembled and he fell closer into Kris. Kris rested his hands on Yixing’s shoulders and pushed him away slightly. “Yixing,” he stared at him and Yixing’s eyes darted down. Before Kris could say anything else, Yixing moved himself onto Kris’ lap, placed his hands on his shoulders, and rolled his hips down. He breathed out and did it again.
“Oh,” Kris breathed, hands grabbing Yixing’s hips. Yixing buried his face into Kris’ neck, hands moving down his front. His fingers reached for the zipper on Kris’ pants, pulling it down, then undoing the button to his jeans. “I love you,” he whispered in Kris’ neck, hands worrying at the front of his jeans. Kris knew what Yixing wanted; he had been with him long enough, although it didn’t always go this way. He sounded sad. “I love you,” he said again. “I love you I love you.”
“Yixing…”
“Do you love me?” Yixing stopped his hand and brought his face up, resting his forehead against Kris’. He moved his hand up under Kris’ white t shirt, waiting for an answer. Yixing’s fingers burned.
“More than anything,” Kris replied.
“Show me.” Kris let his hands travel down Yixing’s hips and towards his thighs. He claimed Yixing’s lips with his and Yixing fell open, coaxing Kris’ tongue inside. He ran his hands around the underside of Yixing’s thighs.
“Yixing.”
“Here,” he breathed. “Let’s just do it right here.” He moved himself off of Kris and lay himself down on the couch, pulling Kris down with him. He tugged at Kris’ shirt until he straightened up and pulled it over his head. Kris let his hands fall on the hem of Yixing’s shirt next, pushing it up and letting his fingers run along hot skin and pert nipples. Yixing let out a quiet squeak and squirmed before raising his hips up against Kris’ leg. He grabbed Kris’ wrist and guided his hand down to his lap. “Now,” he said.
Kris made quick work of Yixing’s jeans, Yixing lifting his hips again to help them off. He remembers not trying to rush it, but Yixing had other plans, finishing what he started and pulling Kris’ pants off next. He remembers Yixing chanting things like “Hurry up” and “Now Kris, now.”
“Yixing you’re not ready, I don’t want to hurt you,” Kris said, two fingers in.
“It’s fine,” he replied, hips rising and fingers clutching Kris’ biceps. “It’s fine just do it I need you now.” He’s pretty sure Yixing pulled the bottle from somewhere between the couch cushions, but he doesn’t remember why it was there in the first place.
Yixing’s face contorted in pain, nails sinking further into Kris’ arms the further he pushed in.
“Wait,” Yixing panted. Kris stilled himself and reached out to push Yixing’s brown bangs off his face, they were getting too long again. He took several breaths, then nodded his head. Kris sank deeper before pulling out and slamming back in. Yixing cried out and pulled sharply at Kris’ arms. He panted heavily, but threw his legs up and wrapped them around Kris’ waist, pulling him down.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please, please, please.”
Kris didn’t know exactly what Yixing wanted, so he just did what his body told him to do, and he hoped Yixing would understand. He picked up his speed, sweat sticking his cheaply dyed hair to his forehead. He revelled in Yixing’s sounds, especially when he curled his fingers around him. Yixing finished first and Kris let himself go shortly after. He fell onto Yixing, sweat slicked bodies pressed together and trying to catch a breath. “I love you,” he whispered into Yixing’s ear, leaving kisses across his face and up to his nose, then a final soft peck on his lips.
“I know,” Yixing replied, tangling his hands into Kris’ hair. He let out a sigh, and it sounded content.
Kris doesn’t remember exactly what time he dragged Yixing and himself to bed that night, but he woke up the next morning alone. The apartment was empty. Yixing had taken his shoes, jacket, a small suitcase of clothes and his guitar. There was a piece of paper left on the kitchen counter. I’m sorry, I did it again, read Yixing’s careful hand writing.
Two days later, there was a knock on his apartment door. “He wasn’t at our dance practice today,” Luhan sighed. “We perform in a few weeks. Please don’t tell me that he-”
Kris nodded. “Left two days ago.”
“He’ll be back soon then, right?” Luhan tried to sound hopeful, but didn’t quite make it.
Kris shrugged. “I don’t know, I never know.”
“But he was doing so-”
“I know,” he snapped cutting Luhan off. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and took a breath before continuing. “I know, Luhan. He was doing to so well.”
“How are you doing?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Yes it is Kris. You know it is.” Then Kris heard Luhan raise his voice for the first time in a long time. “You don’t even ask where he goes! He leaves and no one has any idea where he’s gone to! I don’t care if he’s looking for inspiration or whatever bullshit you think it is, I worry! Yixing is my friend too, and having no idea where he is for weeks at time is worrisome Kris. He could be dead, and we wouldn’t even know.”
“What do you want me to do Luhan?” He knew Luhan was right, but he raised his voice anyways.
“Call him,” Luhan enunciated. “Call him like the worried boyfriend I know you are. Call him and tell him to come home. I’ve got a midterm to write, I’ll text you later.” Luhan adjusted the bag on his back and turned around out the door.
The phone rang four times before getting cut off by Yixing’s voice mail. He waited a couple hours before trying again, only to get the same result. He received a text from Luhan later that night.
Did you call him?
Ya but no answer…
Try again.
I’m trying Luhan.
Later when he tried again, he was met with the same result. “Hey uhhh, it’s Kris. Luhan and I are just a little worried. So…. Call me back? I love you.” He didn’t get much sleep that night, and Yixing never got back to him. He tried calling the next day too with no luck. Any text he sent went unanswered as well.
“I’m calling the police,” Luhan said at the two week mark. They sat in the café on campus where Luhan had first introduced Kris to Yixing. “He hasn’t responded to anything or even tried to contact you. Aren’t you worried?”
“Of course I’m worried,” Kris sighed. He looked down at the table then tapped his fingers twice. “But this has happened before Luhan. He never contacts me when he goes looking. And I never know how long he’ll be gone.”
“Yixing is going to fail all of his classes, he hasn’t attended the midterm exams and he’s falling very behind.”
“Music is different from science. He’ll fail if he can’t write anything either.”
Luhan sighed. “What’s the longest he’s been gone?”
“Maybe two weeks? But it’s been a while since he’s done this.”
“I give it three more days,” Luhan said, looking seriously at Kris. “If you can’t contact him and if he doesn’t come back within the next three days, I’m calling the police and filing a missing persons report.” He looked at Kris for a few moments longer before shaking his head. “God dammit I’m so worried.”
Later that night when Kris had his face buried in science textbooks and his desk was a mess of notes, his phone vibrated twice. He scattered the papers even more, trying to find his phone under the mess. A new message was up on the screen. Sorry, I’m fine, was all it read. He sent a quick text to Luhan, and he let it go for another week.
At the end of the third week, Kris got home to find a mess of clothes on the bedroom floor, but Yixing wasn’t there. On the kitchen counter was a new note, written on the back of a blank music sheet.
I’m sorry, I borrowed a bit of money, but here I picked you some shells. And the Lavender smells nice. Three seashells sat by the note, and in a cup of water were three stems of Lavender.
“You look like shit,” Luhan said at the end of four weeks.
“You too,” Kris replied with a weak smile.
Winter came in the middle of November that year. It came suddenly and it came wildly. Kris cursed under his breath when he almost slipped on ice for the umpteenth time that day. He held the edges of his jacket hood over his head so it wouldn’t blow off in the wind. He was relieved when he entered his building, shaking the snow off his boots. The building wasn’t big, five floors and a basement, and Kris’ apartment was on the second floor. He took the stairs two at a time, it had been one of those days that he just needed to be over. He swung open the apartment door to find empty sheets of music scattered all over the living room floor.
“Yixing?” He called from the doorway, kicking his boots off and running in. Yixing sat at the small coffee table in the middle of the living room hunched over a mess of papers. He didn’t look up when Kris came in. “Yixing,” he repeated, and still got no response. “Yixing!” He yelled, and he could feel his temper rising. This time, Yixing looked up.
“Welcome home,” he said casually.
“Welcome home?” Yixing pressed his lips into a line and tapped his pencil on the table twice. Then twice more, and twice more. “Stop! Stop tapping your pencil oh my God!” Yixing looked taken aback. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out, so Kris continued. “Where the Hell have you been?” And then something snapped. “No, you know what, it doesn’t matter, it’s not like you’d tell me anyways. You never do. You run off and you don’t contact anyone. Do you even understand how worried we get?”
“I-”
“Luhan was about to call the police. I cannot believe how ridiculous you are Yixing!” He wanted to stop yelling, he never like yelling at people, especially Yixing, but he didn’t stop.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Yixing said softly.
“How am I supposed to even try if you never talk to me?”
“I can’t hear it Kris!” Yixing snapped at him. “I can’t talk to you because you don’t know what it’s like. You can’t understand!” He stood up and dropped his pencil on the table. “I can’t hear the music anymore so I go look for it! I understand that you’re worried but I’m not a baby.” Yixing was practically screaming at him “You and Luhan are smart; you have your scientific minds you can go anywhere and do anything. This is all I have, music is all I have. If I can’t even hear that then I have nothing!”
“You have me,” Kris stressed, throwing a hand to his chest and staring at Yixing hard.
“Do you love me?” Yixing’s voice was a lot lower than before, and wavered slightly. The words still echo is Kris’ head and he wonders why he took such a long pause before even trying to form an answer. He shouldn’t have had to think about it, but he did. And Yixing shouldn’t have had to ask, but he did. When he didn’t get an answer, he pushed past Kris and headed to the door way, grabbing his jacket.
“Where are you going?” Yixing didn’t answer, just threw on his jacket, pulled on shoes and pulled the door open. “Yixing answer me where are you going?”
“What does it matter? Don’t I do this all the time anyways?” He ran out the door and towards the stairs.
“Yixing come on!” Kris pulled his boots and jacket on and went after him. “It’s a blizzard out there!” Yixing was half a flight of stairs ahead of him.
“Leave me alone!” He called. “You don’t get it no one gets it!” Yixing ran out the building ahead of Kris, and he didn’t stop.
Kris was too far behind. Maybe if he was faster, he could have pushed him out of the way. Maybe if Yixing were faster, he would have missed it. The image still plays in Kris’ head, slow, but not slow enough for him to catch up; and the sounds echo louder than Yixing’s music ever did. All the songs he ever heard got drowned out. He heard brakes being slammed on, the blaring of a horn, and then the truck hit ice. There’s a scream taken by the wind and he doesn’t know who it came from. Kris fell into the snow, telling himself it was his bones breaking and that surely that was his blood on the ice, not Yixing’s, because Yixing was never here. A car door slammed, someone was yelling, and he’s pretty sure there were multiple people there now, but he doesn’t remember. Kris could feel his heart stop and he knew that was it. Sirens echoed in the distance, someone was still yelling and his legs went numb from the cold. He waited for everything to go black, but it never happened. His bones weren’t broken, that wasn’t his blood, and his heart still had a beat.
And then there was a rush. A rush of medics and police and by standers in the freezing evening air. “It’s my fault,” he choked out at the police officer in front of him. “It’s my fault.” Tears started to stream down his face and he shook his head, as if he could will it from his mind. He looked up at the officer. “Is he…” His voice trailed off, because somehow he already knew. The already icy winter was freezing Kris’ knees, and it had frozen Yixing at 22.
In all the years Kris had known Luhan, he had never once seen him cry. The closest he ever came was when they were 10, shortly after they had met each other. Luhan had fallen off his bike pretty hard, his legs and arms scratched up and bloody. He looked like he was going to cry, but instead he looked up at Kris and said, “It’s hurts. It hurts a lot, but big boys don’t cry.”
Kris remembers Luhan doing so well. He held Kris’ hand during the funeral, and helped carry the casket out to the hearse, face straight. But when they dropped his friend into the ground, white snow blowing lightly around them, he linked his arm with Kris’ and turned to bury his face into his shoulder. He stood there shaking, and they very much resembled the scene across from Kris where Yixing’s parents stood.
Kris stopped Yixing’s parents later in the day. “It’s my fault,” he said. “We argued, and he ran out into the street. It’s my fault.” His voice faded and faltered as the tears started again. “If I had just welcomed him home properly….” But they didn’t blame him, no one ever did.
The only one who ever blamed Kris for Yixing’s death, was Kris himself.
~
Kris looks up at the sky then back down to check his watch.
“It’s already after noon,” Luhan tells him, and Kris hums in response.
“Do you want to get some lunch?” Luhan asks, standing up.
“I think I’ll stay here just a little bit longer,” Kris replies.
“Kris…”
“It’s fine Luhan, you go ahead. There’s a good noodle place a few blocks away. I’ll meet you there in 20 minutes?” Luhan sighs and claps his friend’s shoulder.
“Don’t be too long,” he says, before turning and leaving Kris by himself. He stares and the stone in front of him. It’s smaller, and closer to the ground than some of the other ones around. Everyone agreed that Yixing wouldn’t have wanted something big. It had had it’s fair share of rough weather, but it still gleamed in the sun.
ZHANG YIXING
1990 - 2013
ALWAYS RUNNING, NEVER LOST
There was nowhere Yixing really truly belonged. But Kris is selfish, so he brushes the stone with his fingers, then places his hand on his heart, and decides he’ll keep Yixing there.
“Maybe I’ll listen to Luhan this time. I think you’d laugh at me if you were here, Xing. Why would anyone listen to Luhan? But he’s right.” Kris sighs. “I shouldn’t come here so often, we’re running out of things to talk about. I’ll come once a month then, but I know that sooner or later that will turn into once every three months, and then once a year.” He lets a tear stream down his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “It’s been over two years,” he says, recalling what Luhan said earlier. He shakes his head. “Details are getting blurry. I don’t remember what your hair felt like between my fingers, I can’t feel the spark on my lips after the first time we kissed.” He chokes back a sob. “Sometimes, I think about the first song you wrote for me, and I can’t recall the melody. I don’t remember what it sounds like.” He dips his head and lets some tears fall, then he looks at the flowers Luhan planted. “But you smelled like Lavender, and you liked the colour purple, and you loved music more than anything else. I’m sure that you loved it even more than you ever loved me.” He wipes the tears from his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. He pauses for several minutes before talking again. “I met someone,” he says. “Don’t tell Luhan yet though. I don’t know if this is ok, but he convinced me to go out for drinks this weekend. I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m so sorry but I can’t be waiting for the rest of my life. You aren’t coming back,” he chokes out.
He sits there for what he knows is longer than 20 minutes, because then his phone is going off. “You said 20 minutes,” Luhan’s voice comes through the line. “Hurry up I got us a table already it will look like I got stood up by my girl if you don’t come soon.”
Kris lets himself smile a little and thinks he definitely hates Luhan; but Luhan is his best friend and the reason Kris never went looking for Yixing at the bottom of a bottle.
“Alright I’m coming,” he says, then hangs up. He stands and looks at the stone once more. “I’ll be back Yixing, wait for me.”
Author's Notes: girl!Minseok gives me life. Also this is a mess I am so sorry ofmg I haven't written in so long but this one got me out of my slump so here we go~