大嫌いな僕19才 (the 19-year-old self I despise), for luvotomize
Title: 大嫌いな僕19才 (the 19-year-old self I despise)
For: luvotomize
Pairing: Kris/Lay
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Length: ~8K
Summary: Yixing’s life goes from extraordinary to completely off course when he comes across a wish-granting shop, seemingly by chance, but definitely not by coincidence. (xxxholic!au)
Spoilers/warnings: Very heavily based on the manga series xxxHolic, with plot devices, concepts and quotes taken from the original. So basically spoilers for everything up till the ending, if you plan to read or watch the series still. Proceed with caution because character death!
“Yixing, please prepare tea for two.”
“It’s fucking 3am.”
“We have a customer.”
Yixing sighs before shuffling to the kitchen, and putting on the hot water. As he watches the tea leaves soak in the pot, he’s mildly surprised that he’s not even fazed anymore by these occurrences. A month ago, he would have scowled through this entire task, cursing under his breath. He would still have done what was asked, just with more whining.
The chime of the front door bell rings familiarly. He hears two sets of footsteps rush to the foyer and a chorus of welcome sounds before more footsteps lead towards the main living room. Yixing carries the tray of tea and biscuits carefully, knocking before entering, and setting the table. He only looks up after he’s retreated back to a corner, first at Wu Fan, finally at the stranger - the customer.
It seems like most of the discussion had been completed before he entered. So he listens to the next bit, where Wu Fan stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray, his lips dragged into a smile.
“Well then, I shall grant you your wish.”
After the customer leaves, Wu Fan slumps back against the couch, stretching out his long limbs from one end to the other. Baekhyun helps slip another cigarette between his lips, Chanyeol lights it for him, eyes bright. Wu Fan pats them both on their heads and sends them to bed.
“What did he want?” Yixing asks from the doorway, eyelids already drooping from drowsiness.
“Junmyeon, wanted a wish,” Wu Fan mumbles, “three actually, he asked for three wishes.”
“What for?”
“Beats me, I don’t need to know. I only granted his wish, for three wishes.”
Yixing stays quiet, an uneasy feeling in his chest. These things don’t come without a price. “Was it expensive?”
For the first time since their guest left, Wu Fan turns to look at Yixing, “he paid half of his life. He wasn’t destined to live that long either. I took 30 years.”
“What?! What could he possibly want so much that he would-”
“Precisely because he wanted it that much, the willingness to sacrifice is what’s valuable, what I took as payment,” Wu Fan’s voice drops a little lower, the room filling with the thick scent of tobacco, “that is all I needed, I don’t need his reasons.”
Yixing clenches his fists, bites out a good night, and returns to his room, willing sleep to take over. He dreams about Junmyeon, old, married and happy. He wakes up frustrated, because that is a future Junmyeon will never have.
By the time he’s left for class, the matter has been filed away in a compartment in his head. Within a month, he's learnt to not dwell so much anymore. Yixing knows he cannot help, he knows that Wu Fan can.
-
“A Customer! Welcome!” “Welcome! A Customer!”
Dazed, confused and maybe slightly frightened, Yixing stares at the two boys in the doorway, one very tall with a head of honey brown curls and a wide smile, the other petite with pretty fingers and dark rimmed eyes.
“Uh, sorry, I don’t know why I entered,” he scratches the back of his head, “I’ll just, go now.”
“No you can’t!” The taller boy bellows with a loud, low voice.
“You have to meet Master, you’re a customer!” The smaller boy starts tugging at his arm.
Yixing doesn’t say anything as he is pushed through the house, idly thinking that he’s going to miss the closing time sale at the market. Suddenly, the double doors of a room are opened and he is assaulted by the scent of sweet smoke, and the sight of a man sitting cross-legged in a high-back armchair.
“You’re here because you have a need to,” the man’s accent is familiar, it keeps Yixing listening instead of fighting his way out of the building, “It’s inevitable.”
The smoke in the air is making him lightheaded, he ascertains that it’s coming from the white stick between the man’s fingers, and the ashtray on a small coffee desk next to him. Beyond the silhouette created by the smoke, Yixing studies the man’s windswept hair, chiselled facial features, sharp, hawk-like eyes, stern eyebrows and peculiar bowed lips, down to the exquisite black and gold patterned suit, and polished boots. He narrows his eyes in suspicion. Even so, he waits for him to continue, captivated.
“Tell me, what’s bothering you,” this time Yixing is surprised because the man had just asked him in his nostalgic mother tongue. The two boys seem to lose interest because of the switch in language, frowning at each other.
“I see dead people.”
The man takes another drag of his cigarette, the action strangely graceful. “Do you wish for it to stop?”
“I’m used to it,” Yixing glances towards his feet, “but some days...”
Today was one of his bad days. The weight on his shoulders had followed him since morning, pushing down mercilessly while hissing in his ears until he had wanted so much to be deaf. But he knows that even so, it would not have helped.
“I can grant that wish,” Yixing looks up, there is a glint in the man’s eyes, his lips quirking on one side, “for a price.”
“A...price?”
“This is a shop, that grants wishes for an equal exchange of value, nothing more, nothing less,” the man gets up and walks over, momentarily stunning Yixing because of his full height, “my name is Wu Fan, an alias of course, and I am the owner.”
“You’re chinese.”
Wu Fan laughs, a low rumbling sound. “So are you, Zhang Yixing.”
“How did you-”
“It’s on your backpack,” Wu Fan lifts one eyebrow, “who puts their name on their backpack anyways. Terribly careless. Letting the enemy know your name is equivalent to letting them control you.”
Yixing’s face colors. From this distance, he realises that Wu Fan is extremely attractive. Suddenly, there are arms looped around his on both sides, equally large smiles on their faces.
“Chayeol, Baekhyun, don’t scare him too much,” Wu Fan orders in Korean.
“Yes sir!” Chanyeol exclaims, before turning to face Yixing again, “you know, if it’s something hyung says he can do, then it’s something he can definitely do.”
“Yeah,” Baekhyun chimes in, “Wu Fan hyung can grant your wish for sure!”
“How about it?” Wu Fan is lounging back in his chair again.
Even though he remains silent, Yixing knows he’s already made his decision. He’s so, so tired of it, all nineteen years of his life. Especially after his parents died when he was young, leaving him all alone in a foreign land. The sound of hands clapping together snaps him out of his thoughts.
“Right then, let’s talk payment,” Wu Fan seems to almost make his decision for him, “what will you offer?”
“I’m a starving college student,” Yixing deadpans, “considering my options, I think I’ll politely decline.”
“You will work for me, the time counterbalancing your debt,” Wu Fan continues without any regard to Yixing’s state of distress, “when you’ve done enough, I’ll grant your wish.”
“I-”
“A part-timer!” “This will be fun!”
“You can start right now, by making me coffee.”
“What the fuck,” Yixing says more to himself, “how did this happen to me, I was just passing by, minding my own business-”
“Someone wise once said, it’s inevitable,” Wu Fan stops on his way out the door, turning to smile at him, his voice just on the edge of dreamy, “there are no such things as coincidences in this world, there is only the inevitable.”
-
“Yixing!”
His immediately perks up at the voice, turning around to face the figure running towards him, “Hey, Lu Han.”
Lu Han’s blinding smile is almost too much to handle. Yixing basks in the comfortable aura of positivity surrounding his unrequited crush of a few years, incredibly grateful that they’re still best friends. He doesn’t bat an eyelash when Jongin materialises next to him, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Yixing doesn’t dislike Jongin, he just doesn’t like how much time Jongin spends with Lu Han ever since they were introduced by a mutual friend. Curse Oh Sehun.
“Do you have work today too?” Lu Han asks, eyes wide and curious. Yixing keens on the inside.
“Yes,” he sighs, “Wu Fan doesn’t give me a break at all, he is the fucking devil reincarnated I swear.”
“You can just quit, I don’t understand why you work for him if you hate him so much.”
“Shut up, Jongin,” Yixing glares, “you don’t know anything.”
Jongin shrugs, plugging his earphones in his ears.
“Hey, because of your job, we haven’t been hanging out that much lately,” Lu Han punches his arm lightly, a sincere hint of unhappiness in his voice, “maybe...we can hang out at your work? Jongin, yes?”
Jongin nods absentmindedly. Yixing glares some more.
“That’s actually a great idea,” he thinks out loud, “all I do is make food for Chanyeol and Baekhyun anyways, there aren’t many customers lately,” then he adds faintly, “and roll cigarettes for Wu Fan.”
The rest of the walk to Wu Fan’s shop is filled with chatter and bickering, Yixing is almost able to ignore the presence lingering near them at a distance.
“Here we are, come in, please ignore the loud boys, I’ll get some tea.”
When neither Lu Han nor Jongin makes a move, Yixing looks at them questioningly. Lu Han is the first one that chuckles.
“There’s nothing here,” he says, carelessly lighthearted, “do you see anything?” Jongin shakes his head. Yixing’s eyebrows knead together.
“They can’t see the shop,” Yixing turns towards Wu Fan’s voice at the door, “only those who have the need to will be able to enter, and once they do, a bond is created. Like the way there is a bond between you and this shop now.”
“Uhm,” he looks from Wu Fan, to Chanyeol and Baekhyun playing with a remote controlled helicopter in the garden, then back at Lu Han and Jongin standing just outside the fence of the shop, “what, uh, what do you guys see?”
Lu Han tilts his head to the right, “an empty plot of land? Between three high rises, how weird. The weed is overgrowing, hahaha.”
“You...don’t see anyone?” Yixing waves his hand in the general direction of Baekhyun being chased down by the toy helicopter, at Wu Fan holding Chanyeol’s hands to help steer the remote controller.
“Just you,” Jongin replies, “looking dumb.”
He doesn’t dignify Jongin with a response.
-
Spring brings with it the season of cherry blossoms. The tree in the garden of the shop blooms much heavier than other trees Yixing has observed outside. Wu Fan tells him it’s because of the spiritual energy concentrated within the fence, within the barrier.
“It’s like a different world,” Wu Fan says over his coffee, fresh arabica beans he had Yixing ground earlier, “different from the normal world outside.”
“We’re in a different world...in this shop,” Yixing deadpans once again. Wu Fan idly notes that he does that a lot.
“Yixing, tell me about Kim Jongin,” Wu Fan leans back on the graceful white marble chair, flipping open the metal case which holds thin white sticks, “is he your friend?”
Yixing grimaces, “He’s Lu Han’s friend, he’s still in highschool. We go to the same dance studio,” then he narrows his eyes, “he’s a good dancer, but he’s an annoying brat.”
Wu Fan hums around the cigarette, breathing out smoke in silver wisps. “Stay close to him, it’ll do you good,” before Yixing can open his mouth to protest, Wu Fan cuts him off, “he has a rare, pure aura, contradicting yours, it runs in his blood. You should have realised by now that every time you’re with him, the spirits keep their distances. It's because he possesses qualities that dispel them."
This is indeed something he has noticed for a while, albeit reluctantly.
The next time he meets with Jongin, it ends with Jongin jumping in front of a car to shove Yixing out of the way. The car stops in time, but the impact against Jongin’s back knocks him over, unconscious. When Jongin comes to, the hospital tells them that his lower vertebrae has been injured, that while Jongin will still be able to walk, he will never be able to run again, let alone dance.
Yixing calls him an idiot, Jongin tells him it was his own choice to do what he did. Frustrated, Yixing turns to Wu Fan.
“He shouldn’t have done something so fucking stupid, he-”
“It was his choice,” Wu Fan says calmly, un-crossing and re-crossing his long legs, his right cheek leaning in one palm, “he chose his own actions, and that was to save you.”
“But why should he suffer for something I-” Yixing swallows, fists balled in his lap, “I wasn’t looking when I crossed the road, there was-” he doesn’t finish his sentence, Wu Fan doesn’t press him.
“What do you want me to do?” Wu Fan leans his weight forward in the armchair, wringing his hands together against his knees, “there will be a price, but you already know that.”
Yixing swallows, staring straight into Wu Fan’s golden eyes.
Jongin pushes Yixing against the dance studio mirrors the next afternoon. Yixing doesn’t fight back because he knows that Jongin is physically much stronger than he is, taller and better built.
“Call your master out, tell him I want to meet him,” Jongin all but hisses, eyes unusually ablaze.
“What the fuck Jong-”
“Tonight,” then he lets him go, turning and leaving.
Jongin’s stature shows no sign of injury at all. With a tired sigh, he sinks to the floor against the mirrors, one trembling hand reaching down to touch his tender waist.
They chose to meet in the empty park near Yixing’s university that night. A cool breeze is blowing, the scent of new leaves and pollen sweet in the air. “Kim Jongin,” Wu Fan calls out, a distance from the bench Jongin is sitting on, “good evening.”
Jongin eyes the man taking a seat beside him. Tall, meticulous styling, in a casual black blazer over a pristine white t-shirt, fitting jeans and dress shoes. What Jongin notices the most are his piercing eyes. Bowing his head politely, he returns the greeting, “you’re Wu Fan.”
“And you have a request,” Wu Fan turns sideways to look at him, “but you can’t enter my shop, that’s why we’re here.”
There is silence and fluttering petals from the trees around them for nearly a minute, before Jongin frowns, “what did he do?”
“He asked me to take away your injuries,” Wu Fan states simply, “in exchange, he chose to bear those injuries himself.”
“He’s essentially crippled now,” Jongin’s jaw tightens, “because of me.”
When Wu Fan scoffs, it is not unkind, maybe even with a hint of fondness. “He said the same thing, you kids nowadays.” He waves Jongin’s questioning looks away, putting on his professional face, “so, what can I do for you?”
“I want to take back my own injuries.”
“I can’t do that,” Wu Fan replies cooly, Jongin fidgets, “I work on a first come, first serve basis. Yixing’s request was first, so unless you have something else to offer, I don’t believe we have business.”
Jongin chews on his bottom lip, so deep in thought that Wu Fan feels how young he truly is, how much he truly cares.
“Tell me, what would you do if I refuse to help you?”
“I’ll try other ways,” there is no hesitation, “I’d rather bend than break.”
This is why he has no need to enter the shop. He is determined to find a solution himself, even if it kills him. Wu Fan accepts Jongin’s proposition a little while later with a smile.
Jongin loses sight in his right eye, in exchange for healing Yixing’s injuries. Which is why he doesn’t see Yixing’s punch coming from his blinded right side. Before they have to part in different directions to return home, Yixing mutters a thank you under his breath. Jongin demands homemade cupcakes for dessert the next day.
-
The few months of spring pass by with Yixing completely moving from his old, empty apartment, into the spare room in Wu Fan’s shop. It’s much more convenient, cheaper and closer to his university, Yixing reasons.
Summer hits Seoul like a gigantic heat wave, forcing Chanyeol and Baekhyun out into the garden, either playing with the water hose or in the inflatable pool. Lu Han suggests they all spend a few days at Sehun’s beach house, much to Yixing’s distaste. Luckily, Wu Fan also prefers staying cool indoors, so it ends up being Jongin spending a few days at Sehun’s beach house with Lu Han, also much to Yixing’s distaste.
Another reason why Yixing decides to stay in the shop is because of Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Yixing learns in the first week of working there that Chanyeol and Baekhyun can never leave beyond the fence of the shop. They are guardians, who exert all of their daily spiritual energy into keeping the shop standing, visible to their customers.
More than once, Yixing wonders whether Chanyeol and Baekhyun think about the world outside, whether they have any desire to explore. Wu Fan laughs at him good naturedly when he voices his concerns.
“No, they’re not like you, not human. Their sole purpose of existence is this,” Wu Fan waves a large hand around the air, gesturing around the shop, “beyond the fence, they will cease to exist. Everyone lives for a purpose.”
Yixing watches the two boys bickering over the PS3. He knows that Chanyeol is deft with learning music, the variety of new instruments in their storeroom steadily increasing in number. He also knows that Baekhyun has a beautiful singing voice, and an obsession with popular girl groups. There are times when he comes home to the shop to find the two on the couch, casually chatting about the news showing on tv. These are the times when he nearly forgets what they really are, only almost human.
“Yixing ge,” Chanyeol sidles up beside him, “make me food?”
Baekhyun creeps up his other side, “please?” Baekhyun occasionally applies precise eyeliner when tending to customers, but without it, he looks even more childlike.
“Fine, but keep it secret from Wu Fan, and you guys have to help me.”
Chanyeol is by no means a helpful person in the kitchen at all, and Baekhyun spends more time tasting cookie dough on his fingers. Even so, Yixing smiles, feeling a little bit less alone than he was before he came to work at Wu Fan’s shop.
-
One midsummer night, it rains. Yixing is jostled awake by a commotion outside the shop. He looks out the window and sees Wu Fan standing in the garden, not in his usual smart casual suit. Wu Fan is wearing something Yixing has never seen before - completely white from head to toe, a long cloak trailing behind him, drenching in the rain.
By the time Yixing makes it outside with an umbrella, Wu Fan raises a hand to keep him a distance away. Curiously, Yixing notices, despite the rain clouds, the moon is visible in the sky, slowly being eaten away by a dark shape. When the only source of light is blocked out, a crackle materializes in the space before Wu Fan. Yixing digs his feet into the ground, feeling his skin being slightly dragged towards the concentrated point of energy. Wu Fan doesn’t even flinch.
In an explosion of black smoke, three figures land in the mud in front of Wu Fan. Yixing stares with his jaw slack. Kneeling in the middle of the garden is someone who looks like Jongin but not quite, dressed in black, battered and scarred. There is an unconscious boy in his arms, and another kneeling wide eyed next to him, pressing his hands to a wound in his side.
“Kai, Xiumin,” Wu Fan greets, frowning at the third name,“D.O.”
“Kris,” Kai grounds out, “motherfucker-”
“Kai, not now,” Xiumin gasps, “D.O is hurt, we have no time,” he turns towards Wu Fan, “you’re the dimension warlock in this space- we need help.”
Wu Fan’s face shows no more emotions, “tell me your wish.”
“My wish?” Kai is nearly shouting, arms clutching D.O closer to his chest, “D.O is dying, we are at war, and you’re here, asking to grant my wish? Fuck yo-”
“Your wish,” Wu Fan flicks his cold gaze towards Xiumin, “hurry.”
“The oracle, we need him to find the others,” both Xiumin and Kai turn to acknowledge Yixing standing behind Wu Fan and Yixing swears he sees a flash of yearning in their eyes, before Xiumin continues, “we need to find Lay, he’s the only one that can heal D.O,” he takes a sharp, shuddering breath, closing his eyes, “we need time.”
“I can’t grant you time in your dimension,” Wu Fan replies quietly, “it is against the time lord there.”
“The time lord is dead,” Kai spits, “Tao is gone.”
Wu Fan’s shoulders tense, his lips pulled into a thin line, “I will need something in return.”
Xiumin produces a sword, glistening under patches of dried blood, “the time lord’s sword, in exchange for locating the oracle.”
“I accept this as payment,” clutching the sword with one hand, Wu Fan reaches out his other palm, “however, it is worth more than your request, and I will not take more in value. I will send the dragon; he will locate and retrieve both the oracle and the healer.”
The air begins to crackle again. Xiumin huddles close, clutching Kai’s shoulder weakly. He mouths his thanks towards Wu Fan, the pain in his side the only thing keeping him conscious.
“Shit,” Kai curses, “we can’t stay here any longer. Kris, we’re fighting a fucking war, you should-”
Yixing doesn’t hear the end of Kai’s sentence as the trio is viciously ripped away from this space in another burst of black smoke and electricity, leaving Wu Fan standing with white knuckles around the sword.
He knows better than to ask questions, at least until the sun comes up, until the rain stops.
“What exactly are you?”
It’s nearing the end of the summer months, but the heat is still notorious. Wu Fan is amused, at the very least.
“I am a wish granter,” he states simply, resuming his attention towards his refreshing glass of lemonade, “I grant wishes for a price.”
“Those people the other day, Jongi-uh, Kai, they called you Kris, the...dimensional warlock,” he pauses to refill Wu Fan’s glass, “what’s that about?”
“There are things that are more than what they appear to you, Zhang Yixing. I am Wu Fan, handsome owner of this shop, your employer," he turns to look out the window wistfully, "I am also Kris, dragon master in their world. I am simultaneously more than both of those persons, a dimensional warlock, but appear to you as I am.”
Yixing’s default dazed expression sits firmly on his features. “Uhm, but that wasn’t Jongin, was it?”
A small smile forms on Wu Fan’s lips, “no, that was Kai, searching for Lay in order to save a friend’s life,” he pauses, seemingly in thought, “not the Jongin whom you care for, so don’t worry about it.”
“I could care less about that brat.,” Yixing scoffs, muttering under his breath, “so why aren’t you fighting for whatever war it is with them?”
“Remember what I told you, everything happens for a reason, everyone exists for a purpose.”
-
Autumn finally arrives, the air turning sharply cooler, the scenery morphing into shades of orange. Yixing watches contently as Lu Han chatters about this thing or that, giving appropriate responses at the appropriate places. They usually spend their time after classes on the rooftop of the university building while waiting for Jongin to walk pass their campus from his highschool, before heading home together in the same direction.
“You’re kidding, that Oh Sehun kid is messing with you, man.”
“Oh, come on, he’s a good kid, don’t be like that,” Lu Han shoves Yixing’s shoulder playfully against the railing on the side of the building.
Yixing unexpectedly falls over the other side, crashing towards the ground, two storeys high. The last thing he hears is the piercing sound of Lu Han’s scream, and footsteps rushing towards him.
When Yixing cracks open his heavy eyelids, he expects no less than Wu Fan sitting cross-legged next to his bed.
“Welcome back,” Wu Fan announces with an unamused smile.
From those words alone, Yixing knows half the story of what had occurred. He might be spaced out a lot of the time, but he prides himself as being exceptionally perceptive of things happening around him, things that concern cause and effect.
“How?” He manages weakly. His tongue feels like lead, his entire body like he’s been torn apart and then thrown back together forcefully.
“I have received the payments from two people,” Wu Fan clicks his tongue in slight annoyance, “you should be thankful for having people who care about you, they quite literally saved your life. Now they are bound to this shop.”
Yixing knows one of the two is Jongin, and is not ready to admit that the other is Lu Han. Against his better judgement, he asks Wu Fan what the price was.
“Maybe next time,” he touches a finger to his puckered lips, “or you can try asking him yourself.”
The next time Yixing wakes up, it is to Lu Han sitting beside his bed, a soft, worried and tired expression marring his beautiful features.
“Lu Han,” Yixing tries swallowing around his parched throat, “I’m sorry for scaring you with the fall, are you ok?”
“You fucking idiot,” on closer inspection, Yixing spots tears clinging to the edges of his best friend’s long eyelashes, “you should’ve stayed away from me, from the very beginning.”
“What?”
“I’m no good, Yixing,” Lu Han croaks, his Korean slurring impossibly, until he settles for mandarin instead, “I’m the reason for all the times you got hurt in the past, I’m bad luck, I can’t do this anymore, the next time, you’re really going to end up dead, there was so much blood, and Jongin, he was so scared I-”
“Lu Han, it’s ok. Jongin is strong, he’ll be ok,” he exerts all his strength to turn towards Lu Han, even more to manage a smile, “Wu Fan told me about you already, ever since the accident with Jongin.”
He remembers the conversation, Wu Fan’s warnings.
“He’s bad fortune, stay away from him.”
“But he’s Lu Han, it must be a coincidence-”
“Think about every time in the past when something bad has happened, and then think about Lu Han.”
“The car accident, it was--it was after saying goodbye to Lu Han, and I was crossing the road, but still a coincidence-”
“He is perfectly healthy, free from paranormal harassment, just born to bring misfortune to everybody around him except his parents. The price to alter that is too heavy, and will not bring him happiness either, so don’t even think about it.”
“...but it could be a co-” Yixing swallows his words, his bottom lip white between his teeth, Wu Fan’s words ringing in his head; there are no such things as coincidences.
Lu Han’s glassy eyes widen, “and you still stayed? Are you making fun of me?”
“No no, stupid,” it hurts his lungs to chuckle, “I stayed because I really enjoy your company, even your ridiculous Beijing accent.”
Lu Han leaves after a while, and the chair is replaced by Jongin.
“Tell me what you and Lu Han paid,” Yixing demands, eyes shut, much too exhausted to even look at Jongin, “please, I need to know.”
“Flesh and blood,” Jongin whispers weakly, slumped over against the side of the bed, his own consciousness slipping, “all the scars you withstood, all the blood you lost.”
“I’m impressed,” Wu Fan tells him a week later, “you’re not asking to give them back what they gave up for you, the old you would have done so.”
Chanyeol and Baekhyun take turns feeding him small cubes of cut fruit, going ahh~ at him while he absentmindedly eats whatever is shoved in his face.
“Something that is so easily given up, would be of no value,” Yixing explains, Wu Fan is very impressed, even whistling lightly, “if I were in their position, I would not want what I sacrificed to be thrown back at me like it was worth nothing, because my actions affect others.”
“You’ve changed,” Wu Fan’s voice takes on that dreamy edge again, smiling softly to himself, “but you’re right. There is nothing in this world that belongs only to you,” he elaborates, more to himself as he watches Yixing drift back into restful slumber, Chanyeol and Baekhyun curled up beside him, “you’ll never be free, but that is also what makes life interesting, infinitely sad, and dear.”
-
“What brings you here, Kim Jongin?”
The person in question shrugs one shoulder, his attention still focused on helping Chanyeol beat Baekhyun at Tekken 6. Jongin has been somewhat of a permanent fixture in the shop for the past week, much to Yixing’s relative dislike. He has no problem admitting to himself that Jongin’s company is enjoyable, the real difficulty is actually showing that on the outside. It’s mainly a pride thing.
Later in the night when the shop is much quieter only does Jongin answer Wu Fan’s query, to which Wu Fan lifts his eyebrows in mild surprise, “I need some help.”
“You have a wish?”
“It’s because it’s not something I can deal with myself,” Jongin grimaces, “it’s a dream.”
“A nightmare?”
“I don’t know, something like that,” he leans back against the back of the couch, covering his tired eyes with an arm, “it feels like a premonition, it’s very uncomfortable and doesn’t let me rest at all.”
“Ok then, I will take the watch you’re wearing right now,” Wu Fan motions to his wrist, “as part payment, on top of the dream itself.”
“You want my nightmare as payment?” Even as he says this, Jongin is handing over his watch, a past birthday gift from a past girlfriend.
“Yes, your dream in exchange for Yixing’s services, the watch is just a deposit for finding the Dream Buyer to go with him.”
“What did you just say?” Yixing’s head pokes out from around the corner to the kitchen, “did you just send me on another job without my consent?”
“I don’t need your consent, you work for me.” Wu Fan is giving him the smile with his lips pulled over pink gums, the one that is simultaneously disarming and infuriating.
They find the Dream Buyer, a surprisingly young looking boy with raven hair and even darker eyes, named Zitao. After being introduced, Yixing looks on with fascination as Zitao starts whining at Wu Fan without the other smacking him over the head, like he does with everybody else.
“Taozi, I will promise you a good dream if you go with Yixing on his job,” he gestures towards Yixing standing awkwardly to the side, “for a price, of course, but a discounted price, if you help him.”
“I never do this, ever,” Zitao eyes Yixing skeptically, “but since you give your word, Wu Fan ge, I’ll do it.”
“So, what am I actually supposed to do?”
“You dream Jongin’s dream, and then dispel it with this,” Wu Fan hands over a bright yellow balloon, Yixing takes it dumbly, “this balloon contains a good dream, this is what Zitao trades in, dreams.”
“Uhm.”
“Now go,” Wu Fan smiles in the sickening way again that has Yixing blanching, “sweet dreams.”
Before he knows it, Yixing has crumpled into a heap in a place shrouded in deep darkness, Zitao landing nimbly on his feet next to him. The scenery around them start fading into focus, shifting all too quickly from places Yixing recognises as Jongin’s highschool, their dance studio, his university. Events play out before him, some of which he was present in, others with Jongin alone.
Yixing quickly realises that this is what Jongin dreams about, the past.
“This is really weird,” he comments, watching Jongin dream about the few days he had spent with Lu Han at the beach. Zitao doesn’t even bother to acknowledge him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yixing notices a shadow looming closer and closer, eating away at the edges of Jongin’s dream at a frightening pace. Eventually, the shadow has engulfed every bit of the dream scenery, leaving Jongin curled up into a ball, breathing harshly into his pulled up knees, young and vulnerable. Yixing’s heart clenches at the realisation that Jongin dreams of loneliness.
“This is a dream,” is the first thing Zitao says to Yixing since they met, “he can’t see or hear us, but it’s nearing the end. You should do something right about now.”
He sounds annoyed, but looks murderous as he gestures towards the balloon Yixing’s hand. Yixing stares at it stupidly. Suddenly, the balloon pops, drenching everything in blinding light, until he can no longer make out Jongin’s frame in the distance.
It’s morning already when Yixing wakes up to the voices of Chanyeol and Baekhyun pestering him for breakfast. He overhears Zitao whining and bargaining with Wu Fan over a bright blue balloon in Wu Fan’s hands.
“Taozi, because I sent Yixing, a human into the dream, and managed to turn the nightmare into a good dream, this is going to cost you, you know that.”
“But ge,” Zitao is on the verge of stomping his feet, “ok ok, I’ll give you two dreams in exchange for the one you have, please? Ge, please, I really want it.”
“Three for this one, Taozi,” Wu Fan’s voice is dripping with victory as he watches Zitao’s face fall, “no less than that.”
“Ge! Fine, take it!” Three balloons are plucked from the bunch Zitao carries and shoved into Wu Fan’s hand in exchange for the single blue one, “I’ve been robbed, I hope you’re happy,” Zitao sniffs.
Wu Fan ruffles Zitao’s head fondly, a smile colouring his voice, “you know you got a great deal, you’re secretly happy, silly boy.” It takes him by surprise, a pleasant surprise, Yixing has never seen such an honestly happy expression replacing Wu Fan’s usual scowl.
After Zitao leaves, Yixing brings out breakfast. Chanyeol tells him Jongin has left earlier after giving his thanks. As per usual, Yixing demands the right to know what Wu Fan threw him into and asks about the Dream Buyer.
“Taozi is the local Dream Buyer in the area. His job is to collect valuable dreams, like the one he took this morning, and raise them into even better dreams.”
“What would one do with a good dream balloon anyways,” Yixing frankly cannot see the point of it all. Wu Fan tsk’s at him, Chanyeol and Baekhyun join in. He frowns, a little bit offended.
“A dream is your heart making a very desperate wish, hence good dreams are in great demand because of the positive energy they contain. Which was why Jongin felt the need to dispel his nightmare. He believed it was an ominous desire for something terrible to happen,” Wu Fan sips delicately at his coffee, “If you wish for something hard enough, Yixing, it will come true.”
-
The first time that they really feel winter is when Wu Fan demands soju to go with all their meals. Chanyeol brightens up impossibly, while Baekhyun’s face falls when Wu Fan sends them to the storeroom to fetch the high quality alcohol he has received in the past as payments. He explains that they have not had very great experiences with a drunk Chanyeol in the past, Baekhyun being on the receiving end of Chanyeol’s loud, sometimes violent antics.
Yixing smiles as he sets the table for dinner. The night is spent in celebration of winter, the end of Yixing’s second year in university, alcohol, and friendship. Yixing watches Wu Fan over the top of his shot glass, thinking about how he had spent this time last year - in his warm, electric-heated bedroom with the same winter food and the same alcohol, but cold and hollow and alone.
“You look troubled,” Wu Fan comments, smoking a long, graceful pipe with intricate metal carvings along its spine, a rare sight in place of his usual hand rolled cigarettes.
“I’m smiling,” Yixing scoffs, and he is, until Wu Fan’s inquisitorial stare causes him to lower his eyes to his drink, “Lu Han went home for the winter holidays already,” he downs his shot of soju, “to his family, in Beijing.” The taste of soju burns at the back of his throat, along with a hint of something else very ugly, very similar to bitterness.
“Ah,” Wu Fan reaches out his glass for Yixing to refill it, “but you’re not homesick. You can’t be homesick, if you do not have a home there.”
It punches Yixing in his gut, causing him to glare at his employer, indignant profanities on the tip of his tongue because how dare he, it’s the place he was born. But before he could say anything, he is tackled backwards out of his chair and onto the floor by Chanyeol’s long, gangly limbs.
Chanyeol snakes his arms around Yixing’s middle, lying on his side, tangling his legs around his waist, singing at the top of his lungs, while Baekhyun, red in the face as well, sits himself promptly on top of Yixing’s stomach, leaning back against Chanyeol, and joining in the mess of drunken song.
Yixing can’t breathe, Chanyeol and Baekhyun sit extremely warm on top of him, and Wu Fan’s low laughter sounds nearly melodious in his pleasantly buzzed state. He finds himself breathlessly laughing along.
By the end of the night, Yixing is tasked with putting Chanyeol and Baekhyun in bed because Wu Fan suddenly exclaimed that he’s waiting for a customer. Painstakingly, he arranges Chanyeol’s limbs into a comfortable position in Wu Fan’s bed, and yet Chanyeol still curls into a ball, pouting for all its worth. “Yixing ge,” Chanyeol slurs, “home is here, with Chanyeol and Baekhyun and Wu Fan hyung.” “Yeah, so don’t be sad,” Baekhyun adds sleepily, huddled up on Chanyeol’s side. Smiling fondly, he says his good nights and shuts the bedroom door quietly.
In the living room, Wu Fan is already smartly dressed in a dark, wine coloured, double-breasted suit with a winter fur collar, smoking a fresh pipe. Yixing stops his track by the door, slightly shocked at the customer already in discussion with Wu Fan. He is sure that the boy sitting across from Wu Fan is Jongdae, a student from his university. He has seen him around before, a music major, a friend of a friend.
It’s the content of his request that stops Yixing from making his presence known to the company inside. He stands with his back against the wall right outside the living room door, listening intently. Jongdae’s request is odd.
“Nobody notices me. I want to be special.”
“You have to be more specific with your wish, Mr. Kim,” Wu Fan takes another drag from the pipe, “how exactly do you want to achieve that?”
“I saw on tv, those people who can see spirits, everybody loves them,” there is a hint of desperation in his voice, “I-I want to be like them.”
A minute of silence passes with Jongdae fidgeting in his seat, Wu Fan studying his customer, and Yixing fisting the material of his sweatpants, gritting his teeth. He knows better than to interfere, not yet.
“You want to be able to see spirits,” Wu Fan’s voice is levelled as he leans forward against the antique wooden table, “is that right?”
“Yes.”
This is as much as Yixing can take. He storms into the room, glaring down Wu Fan, who doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Why-”
“Yixing,” a large hand wraps around Yixing’s small wrist, “please prepare some tea for our guest.”
The fury swells up inside his chest, shaking through his body, so much so that Jongdae visibly tenses. “Fuck you, you’re going to grant his wish,” he spits, wrestling his arm free, “you’re going to let him suff-”
“Yixing,” this time, there is enough authority in his tone, enough danger in his eyes, that it shuts him up, “tea, please.”
By the time Yixing returns with a tray of genmaicha in a clear glass tea set, Jongdae is long gone. He pours the tea for Wu Fan, then sits down dejectedly in the chair previously occupied by their customer.
“I’m sorry,” Yixing whispers, eyes downcast, “for interrupting just now. It’s just- Jongdae is such a good person, such a good singer. I don’t understand why he would exchange his voice to be...like that,” like me, he doesn’t add.
The smirk that Wu Fan gives him is unexpected, but his expression immediately softens before leaning his head on one hand on the table, “my dear Yixing,” he touches the long fingers of his other hand gently down the side of Yixing’s face, pausing at his dimple, “good and bad are very human concepts, and since wish-granting does not qualify as human activities, I am not one to determine the application of these qualities.”
Inside his head, Yixing understands what Wu Fan is saying, he has for a long time already. It just hit a little bit close to heart this time. He lets out a shuddering sigh, tilting into the warmth of Wu Fan’s hand on his cheek.
“People have the freedom to wish for what they want, and nobody has the right to stop them from doing it,” Wu Fan pulls him closer, “even if it’s a wish for unhappiness.”
Their lips meet across the round table, over the cups of rapidly cooling tea. The tightening hold that has been in his chest ever since the day he met Wu Fan finally bursts into fluttering butterflies. Kissing Wu Fan soothes his boiling blood, slows down his heart and mind; Yixing feels like kissing Wu Fan traps them in a moment in time, leaving him breathless.
“Remember that, Zhang Yixing.”
-
One day, a cycle of seasons later, Yixing meets Wu Fan in a dream. He knows it’s a dream, because there are cherry blossom trees raining petals heavily around them. Yixing knows it is still a few months away from spring, before any of the trees will be in blossom at all, so he isn’t as bothered as he should be, watching Wu Fan disintegrate from his feet up, disappearing into glittering smoke that mix with the pretty pink petals.
“This is not a dream,” Wu Fan tells him abruptly, Yixing finds it silly that the panic inside him is rising; of course it’s a dream, what is he talking abou-
“Yixing, this is not a dream,” his eyes are soft, maybe even sad, “my time in this world is up, I’m dying.”
“What,” the panic tastes very real now as he tries and fails to move closer, stuck in a pocket in time different from Wu Fan’s continuing one, “what the fuck, who made this decision, Wu Fan, you can’t just-” Not now, not when you’ve become something so, so much more, so dear.
“When I am gone,” the cocky edge is back in his voice, “your wish will be granted, and you will be free to go. Isn’t that great?”
“I-” no, “I don’t understand.”
“Everyone exists for a purpose, and I have long served mine,” I know, “it is the inevitable,” I know, “everyone dies eventually.” I fucking know, Yixing doesn’t even bother with stopping the tears.
“You said,” his voice shakes, “you said that if I wish for something hard enough, it will come true. My wish is for your wish to come true,” he chokes, “I want to grant you your wish, please.”
“My dear Yixing,” simple words that mean more than what it appears, that has Yixing completely broken, “my wish is just that you continue to exist.”
“Then I will stay at the shop,” Yixing watches helplessly as Wu Fan’s chest dissolves into smoke, “I will exist for as long as I can.”
Yixing swears he sees Wu Fan’s honest smile just before everything is gone - the smoke, the cherry blossoms, Wu Fan.
-
Jongin drops the week’s groceries onto the kitchen counter, “if you don’t need anything else, I’m late for rehearsals.”
“Your recital is this weekend,” Yixing frowns from the doorway, gently blowing sweet scented smoke into the air, “sorry I can’t make it, again, reasons.”
Jongin waves him away and leaves the shop after bidding goodbyes. It is an unexpected phenomenon somewhat, Jongin becoming the closest to Yixing since his takeover, understanding his predicament of not being able to leave the shop and hence carrying out all his outside chores for him. Yixing doesn’t express his thanks explicitly, they’ve become beyond requiring mere words of appreciation.
Just last month, Yixing has had to apologetically reject Jongin’s invitation to his wedding. ‘It was a small, hushed reception with closest friends and family. He was forgiven, but Jongin later told him with a bemused smile that Lu Han was there, with Oh Sehun by his side. Yixing had rolled his eyes at that. Curse Oh Sehun, the lucky bastard.
A hundred years trapped within the boundaries of the little shop is a really long time, crucial to the transformation into a being of power, no longer human. Time stops for Yixing, even as the world continues to progress with tell tale signs of spring approaching. While he tailors some of Wu fan’s wardrobe to fit his own sizes, more often than not, Yixing takes to wearing flowing silk robes with butterfly patterns, beautiful fabric that he had found in a large trunk hidden in a corner of the storeroom.
After he drops out of university on reason of serious medical conditions, he spends most of his days pouring over the literature Wu Fan has collected, quickly learning the trade of wish-granting, despite having problems with taking too much or too little in payments for his first few jobs. Wu Fan had told him before that he had talent, the ability, or what he would have said, everyone exists for a purpose.
Today, Yixing is expecting a customer. He has learnt to recognize the tingling feeling in his chest as a sign.
“Chanyeol, Baekhyun,” he distinguishes the flaming end of his cigarette, “prepare the white suit for me please, our guest will be here shortly.”
“Yes, ge!” A trail of loud voices and stomping feet sound throughout the hallways towards their shared bedroom.
Yixing watches Baekhyun pull his sleek, black tie in place for him, while Chanyeol gently brushes his fringe out of his eyes. He prepares the green tea himself, and sets out the delicate china on the tea room table where he has all of his business discussions, before seating into the high-back armchair and lighting another rolled cigarette.
The chime of the front door bell echoes through the foyer, Yixing smokes another. He listens to the customer’s request with a dimpled smile, he smokes another, before deciding on the payment.
“Junmyeon,” Yixing begins carefully, “this will cost you another quarter of whatever is left of your life. Do you still want to proceed?”
Junmyeon nods his head firmly, and requests that Yixing not inform him of how much time he has left. Live dangerously, die without regrets.
“Very well, I have accepted this payment, in exchange for ‘one last chance’.”
By the time Junmyeon leaves the shop for the second time in his life, Yixing’s ashtray is full of cigarette stubs. He methodically eases the frown from his face, taking a couple of deep breaths. Ten years in the business and he still thinks he needs more time to truly accept the unpleasant outcomes, such that he had just sent Junmyeon to his death without bothering with his reasons, that taking a quarter of his remainder life means he will die promptly tomorrow.
It doesn’t faze him, the concept of death. He will grant Wu Fan’s wish and continue existing in the shop, even beyond the hundred years he is bound, until he too has to die, because everyone dies eventually.
This time round, Yixing is no longer just the helpless bystander; he is the owner of a wish-granting shop visible only to those who seek them, who holds power to grant wishes for a price of equivalent value, no more, no less.
a/n: I loved all the prompts, but this was an enjoyable prompt especially because I had to revisit a series I am quite fond of! I’m sorry beforehand if it is confusing for people who are unfamiliar with the series, I can try answering queries because I’m a messy writer at best /o\ but I do recommend the series!!
For: luvotomize
Pairing: Kris/Lay
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Length: ~8K
Summary: Yixing’s life goes from extraordinary to completely off course when he comes across a wish-granting shop, seemingly by chance, but definitely not by coincidence. (xxxholic!au)
Spoilers/warnings: Very heavily based on the manga series xxxHolic, with plot devices, concepts and quotes taken from the original. So basically spoilers for everything up till the ending, if you plan to read or watch the series still. Proceed with caution because character death!
“Yixing, please prepare tea for two.”
“It’s fucking 3am.”
“We have a customer.”
Yixing sighs before shuffling to the kitchen, and putting on the hot water. As he watches the tea leaves soak in the pot, he’s mildly surprised that he’s not even fazed anymore by these occurrences. A month ago, he would have scowled through this entire task, cursing under his breath. He would still have done what was asked, just with more whining.
The chime of the front door bell rings familiarly. He hears two sets of footsteps rush to the foyer and a chorus of welcome sounds before more footsteps lead towards the main living room. Yixing carries the tray of tea and biscuits carefully, knocking before entering, and setting the table. He only looks up after he’s retreated back to a corner, first at Wu Fan, finally at the stranger - the customer.
It seems like most of the discussion had been completed before he entered. So he listens to the next bit, where Wu Fan stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray, his lips dragged into a smile.
“Well then, I shall grant you your wish.”
After the customer leaves, Wu Fan slumps back against the couch, stretching out his long limbs from one end to the other. Baekhyun helps slip another cigarette between his lips, Chanyeol lights it for him, eyes bright. Wu Fan pats them both on their heads and sends them to bed.
“What did he want?” Yixing asks from the doorway, eyelids already drooping from drowsiness.
“Junmyeon, wanted a wish,” Wu Fan mumbles, “three actually, he asked for three wishes.”
“What for?”
“Beats me, I don’t need to know. I only granted his wish, for three wishes.”
Yixing stays quiet, an uneasy feeling in his chest. These things don’t come without a price. “Was it expensive?”
For the first time since their guest left, Wu Fan turns to look at Yixing, “he paid half of his life. He wasn’t destined to live that long either. I took 30 years.”
“What?! What could he possibly want so much that he would-”
“Precisely because he wanted it that much, the willingness to sacrifice is what’s valuable, what I took as payment,” Wu Fan’s voice drops a little lower, the room filling with the thick scent of tobacco, “that is all I needed, I don’t need his reasons.”
Yixing clenches his fists, bites out a good night, and returns to his room, willing sleep to take over. He dreams about Junmyeon, old, married and happy. He wakes up frustrated, because that is a future Junmyeon will never have.
By the time he’s left for class, the matter has been filed away in a compartment in his head. Within a month, he's learnt to not dwell so much anymore. Yixing knows he cannot help, he knows that Wu Fan can.
-
“A Customer! Welcome!” “Welcome! A Customer!”
Dazed, confused and maybe slightly frightened, Yixing stares at the two boys in the doorway, one very tall with a head of honey brown curls and a wide smile, the other petite with pretty fingers and dark rimmed eyes.
“Uh, sorry, I don’t know why I entered,” he scratches the back of his head, “I’ll just, go now.”
“No you can’t!” The taller boy bellows with a loud, low voice.
“You have to meet Master, you’re a customer!” The smaller boy starts tugging at his arm.
Yixing doesn’t say anything as he is pushed through the house, idly thinking that he’s going to miss the closing time sale at the market. Suddenly, the double doors of a room are opened and he is assaulted by the scent of sweet smoke, and the sight of a man sitting cross-legged in a high-back armchair.
“You’re here because you have a need to,” the man’s accent is familiar, it keeps Yixing listening instead of fighting his way out of the building, “It’s inevitable.”
The smoke in the air is making him lightheaded, he ascertains that it’s coming from the white stick between the man’s fingers, and the ashtray on a small coffee desk next to him. Beyond the silhouette created by the smoke, Yixing studies the man’s windswept hair, chiselled facial features, sharp, hawk-like eyes, stern eyebrows and peculiar bowed lips, down to the exquisite black and gold patterned suit, and polished boots. He narrows his eyes in suspicion. Even so, he waits for him to continue, captivated.
“Tell me, what’s bothering you,” this time Yixing is surprised because the man had just asked him in his nostalgic mother tongue. The two boys seem to lose interest because of the switch in language, frowning at each other.
“I see dead people.”
The man takes another drag of his cigarette, the action strangely graceful. “Do you wish for it to stop?”
“I’m used to it,” Yixing glances towards his feet, “but some days...”
Today was one of his bad days. The weight on his shoulders had followed him since morning, pushing down mercilessly while hissing in his ears until he had wanted so much to be deaf. But he knows that even so, it would not have helped.
“I can grant that wish,” Yixing looks up, there is a glint in the man’s eyes, his lips quirking on one side, “for a price.”
“A...price?”
“This is a shop, that grants wishes for an equal exchange of value, nothing more, nothing less,” the man gets up and walks over, momentarily stunning Yixing because of his full height, “my name is Wu Fan, an alias of course, and I am the owner.”
“You’re chinese.”
Wu Fan laughs, a low rumbling sound. “So are you, Zhang Yixing.”
“How did you-”
“It’s on your backpack,” Wu Fan lifts one eyebrow, “who puts their name on their backpack anyways. Terribly careless. Letting the enemy know your name is equivalent to letting them control you.”
Yixing’s face colors. From this distance, he realises that Wu Fan is extremely attractive. Suddenly, there are arms looped around his on both sides, equally large smiles on their faces.
“Chayeol, Baekhyun, don’t scare him too much,” Wu Fan orders in Korean.
“Yes sir!” Chanyeol exclaims, before turning to face Yixing again, “you know, if it’s something hyung says he can do, then it’s something he can definitely do.”
“Yeah,” Baekhyun chimes in, “Wu Fan hyung can grant your wish for sure!”
“How about it?” Wu Fan is lounging back in his chair again.
Even though he remains silent, Yixing knows he’s already made his decision. He’s so, so tired of it, all nineteen years of his life. Especially after his parents died when he was young, leaving him all alone in a foreign land. The sound of hands clapping together snaps him out of his thoughts.
“Right then, let’s talk payment,” Wu Fan seems to almost make his decision for him, “what will you offer?”
“I’m a starving college student,” Yixing deadpans, “considering my options, I think I’ll politely decline.”
“You will work for me, the time counterbalancing your debt,” Wu Fan continues without any regard to Yixing’s state of distress, “when you’ve done enough, I’ll grant your wish.”
“I-”
“A part-timer!” “This will be fun!”
“You can start right now, by making me coffee.”
“What the fuck,” Yixing says more to himself, “how did this happen to me, I was just passing by, minding my own business-”
“Someone wise once said, it’s inevitable,” Wu Fan stops on his way out the door, turning to smile at him, his voice just on the edge of dreamy, “there are no such things as coincidences in this world, there is only the inevitable.”
-
“Yixing!”
His immediately perks up at the voice, turning around to face the figure running towards him, “Hey, Lu Han.”
Lu Han’s blinding smile is almost too much to handle. Yixing basks in the comfortable aura of positivity surrounding his unrequited crush of a few years, incredibly grateful that they’re still best friends. He doesn’t bat an eyelash when Jongin materialises next to him, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Yixing doesn’t dislike Jongin, he just doesn’t like how much time Jongin spends with Lu Han ever since they were introduced by a mutual friend. Curse Oh Sehun.
“Do you have work today too?” Lu Han asks, eyes wide and curious. Yixing keens on the inside.
“Yes,” he sighs, “Wu Fan doesn’t give me a break at all, he is the fucking devil reincarnated I swear.”
“You can just quit, I don’t understand why you work for him if you hate him so much.”
“Shut up, Jongin,” Yixing glares, “you don’t know anything.”
Jongin shrugs, plugging his earphones in his ears.
“Hey, because of your job, we haven’t been hanging out that much lately,” Lu Han punches his arm lightly, a sincere hint of unhappiness in his voice, “maybe...we can hang out at your work? Jongin, yes?”
Jongin nods absentmindedly. Yixing glares some more.
“That’s actually a great idea,” he thinks out loud, “all I do is make food for Chanyeol and Baekhyun anyways, there aren’t many customers lately,” then he adds faintly, “and roll cigarettes for Wu Fan.”
The rest of the walk to Wu Fan’s shop is filled with chatter and bickering, Yixing is almost able to ignore the presence lingering near them at a distance.
“Here we are, come in, please ignore the loud boys, I’ll get some tea.”
When neither Lu Han nor Jongin makes a move, Yixing looks at them questioningly. Lu Han is the first one that chuckles.
“There’s nothing here,” he says, carelessly lighthearted, “do you see anything?” Jongin shakes his head. Yixing’s eyebrows knead together.
“They can’t see the shop,” Yixing turns towards Wu Fan’s voice at the door, “only those who have the need to will be able to enter, and once they do, a bond is created. Like the way there is a bond between you and this shop now.”
“Uhm,” he looks from Wu Fan, to Chanyeol and Baekhyun playing with a remote controlled helicopter in the garden, then back at Lu Han and Jongin standing just outside the fence of the shop, “what, uh, what do you guys see?”
Lu Han tilts his head to the right, “an empty plot of land? Between three high rises, how weird. The weed is overgrowing, hahaha.”
“You...don’t see anyone?” Yixing waves his hand in the general direction of Baekhyun being chased down by the toy helicopter, at Wu Fan holding Chanyeol’s hands to help steer the remote controller.
“Just you,” Jongin replies, “looking dumb.”
He doesn’t dignify Jongin with a response.
-
Spring brings with it the season of cherry blossoms. The tree in the garden of the shop blooms much heavier than other trees Yixing has observed outside. Wu Fan tells him it’s because of the spiritual energy concentrated within the fence, within the barrier.
“It’s like a different world,” Wu Fan says over his coffee, fresh arabica beans he had Yixing ground earlier, “different from the normal world outside.”
“We’re in a different world...in this shop,” Yixing deadpans once again. Wu Fan idly notes that he does that a lot.
“Yixing, tell me about Kim Jongin,” Wu Fan leans back on the graceful white marble chair, flipping open the metal case which holds thin white sticks, “is he your friend?”
Yixing grimaces, “He’s Lu Han’s friend, he’s still in highschool. We go to the same dance studio,” then he narrows his eyes, “he’s a good dancer, but he’s an annoying brat.”
Wu Fan hums around the cigarette, breathing out smoke in silver wisps. “Stay close to him, it’ll do you good,” before Yixing can open his mouth to protest, Wu Fan cuts him off, “he has a rare, pure aura, contradicting yours, it runs in his blood. You should have realised by now that every time you’re with him, the spirits keep their distances. It's because he possesses qualities that dispel them."
This is indeed something he has noticed for a while, albeit reluctantly.
The next time he meets with Jongin, it ends with Jongin jumping in front of a car to shove Yixing out of the way. The car stops in time, but the impact against Jongin’s back knocks him over, unconscious. When Jongin comes to, the hospital tells them that his lower vertebrae has been injured, that while Jongin will still be able to walk, he will never be able to run again, let alone dance.
Yixing calls him an idiot, Jongin tells him it was his own choice to do what he did. Frustrated, Yixing turns to Wu Fan.
“He shouldn’t have done something so fucking stupid, he-”
“It was his choice,” Wu Fan says calmly, un-crossing and re-crossing his long legs, his right cheek leaning in one palm, “he chose his own actions, and that was to save you.”
“But why should he suffer for something I-” Yixing swallows, fists balled in his lap, “I wasn’t looking when I crossed the road, there was-” he doesn’t finish his sentence, Wu Fan doesn’t press him.
“What do you want me to do?” Wu Fan leans his weight forward in the armchair, wringing his hands together against his knees, “there will be a price, but you already know that.”
Yixing swallows, staring straight into Wu Fan’s golden eyes.
Jongin pushes Yixing against the dance studio mirrors the next afternoon. Yixing doesn’t fight back because he knows that Jongin is physically much stronger than he is, taller and better built.
“Call your master out, tell him I want to meet him,” Jongin all but hisses, eyes unusually ablaze.
“What the fuck Jong-”
“Tonight,” then he lets him go, turning and leaving.
Jongin’s stature shows no sign of injury at all. With a tired sigh, he sinks to the floor against the mirrors, one trembling hand reaching down to touch his tender waist.
They chose to meet in the empty park near Yixing’s university that night. A cool breeze is blowing, the scent of new leaves and pollen sweet in the air. “Kim Jongin,” Wu Fan calls out, a distance from the bench Jongin is sitting on, “good evening.”
Jongin eyes the man taking a seat beside him. Tall, meticulous styling, in a casual black blazer over a pristine white t-shirt, fitting jeans and dress shoes. What Jongin notices the most are his piercing eyes. Bowing his head politely, he returns the greeting, “you’re Wu Fan.”
“And you have a request,” Wu Fan turns sideways to look at him, “but you can’t enter my shop, that’s why we’re here.”
There is silence and fluttering petals from the trees around them for nearly a minute, before Jongin frowns, “what did he do?”
“He asked me to take away your injuries,” Wu Fan states simply, “in exchange, he chose to bear those injuries himself.”
“He’s essentially crippled now,” Jongin’s jaw tightens, “because of me.”
When Wu Fan scoffs, it is not unkind, maybe even with a hint of fondness. “He said the same thing, you kids nowadays.” He waves Jongin’s questioning looks away, putting on his professional face, “so, what can I do for you?”
“I want to take back my own injuries.”
“I can’t do that,” Wu Fan replies cooly, Jongin fidgets, “I work on a first come, first serve basis. Yixing’s request was first, so unless you have something else to offer, I don’t believe we have business.”
Jongin chews on his bottom lip, so deep in thought that Wu Fan feels how young he truly is, how much he truly cares.
“Tell me, what would you do if I refuse to help you?”
“I’ll try other ways,” there is no hesitation, “I’d rather bend than break.”
This is why he has no need to enter the shop. He is determined to find a solution himself, even if it kills him. Wu Fan accepts Jongin’s proposition a little while later with a smile.
Jongin loses sight in his right eye, in exchange for healing Yixing’s injuries. Which is why he doesn’t see Yixing’s punch coming from his blinded right side. Before they have to part in different directions to return home, Yixing mutters a thank you under his breath. Jongin demands homemade cupcakes for dessert the next day.
-
The few months of spring pass by with Yixing completely moving from his old, empty apartment, into the spare room in Wu Fan’s shop. It’s much more convenient, cheaper and closer to his university, Yixing reasons.
Summer hits Seoul like a gigantic heat wave, forcing Chanyeol and Baekhyun out into the garden, either playing with the water hose or in the inflatable pool. Lu Han suggests they all spend a few days at Sehun’s beach house, much to Yixing’s distaste. Luckily, Wu Fan also prefers staying cool indoors, so it ends up being Jongin spending a few days at Sehun’s beach house with Lu Han, also much to Yixing’s distaste.
Another reason why Yixing decides to stay in the shop is because of Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Yixing learns in the first week of working there that Chanyeol and Baekhyun can never leave beyond the fence of the shop. They are guardians, who exert all of their daily spiritual energy into keeping the shop standing, visible to their customers.
More than once, Yixing wonders whether Chanyeol and Baekhyun think about the world outside, whether they have any desire to explore. Wu Fan laughs at him good naturedly when he voices his concerns.
“No, they’re not like you, not human. Their sole purpose of existence is this,” Wu Fan waves a large hand around the air, gesturing around the shop, “beyond the fence, they will cease to exist. Everyone lives for a purpose.”
Yixing watches the two boys bickering over the PS3. He knows that Chanyeol is deft with learning music, the variety of new instruments in their storeroom steadily increasing in number. He also knows that Baekhyun has a beautiful singing voice, and an obsession with popular girl groups. There are times when he comes home to the shop to find the two on the couch, casually chatting about the news showing on tv. These are the times when he nearly forgets what they really are, only almost human.
“Yixing ge,” Chanyeol sidles up beside him, “make me food?”
Baekhyun creeps up his other side, “please?” Baekhyun occasionally applies precise eyeliner when tending to customers, but without it, he looks even more childlike.
“Fine, but keep it secret from Wu Fan, and you guys have to help me.”
Chanyeol is by no means a helpful person in the kitchen at all, and Baekhyun spends more time tasting cookie dough on his fingers. Even so, Yixing smiles, feeling a little bit less alone than he was before he came to work at Wu Fan’s shop.
-
One midsummer night, it rains. Yixing is jostled awake by a commotion outside the shop. He looks out the window and sees Wu Fan standing in the garden, not in his usual smart casual suit. Wu Fan is wearing something Yixing has never seen before - completely white from head to toe, a long cloak trailing behind him, drenching in the rain.
By the time Yixing makes it outside with an umbrella, Wu Fan raises a hand to keep him a distance away. Curiously, Yixing notices, despite the rain clouds, the moon is visible in the sky, slowly being eaten away by a dark shape. When the only source of light is blocked out, a crackle materializes in the space before Wu Fan. Yixing digs his feet into the ground, feeling his skin being slightly dragged towards the concentrated point of energy. Wu Fan doesn’t even flinch.
In an explosion of black smoke, three figures land in the mud in front of Wu Fan. Yixing stares with his jaw slack. Kneeling in the middle of the garden is someone who looks like Jongin but not quite, dressed in black, battered and scarred. There is an unconscious boy in his arms, and another kneeling wide eyed next to him, pressing his hands to a wound in his side.
“Kai, Xiumin,” Wu Fan greets, frowning at the third name,“D.O.”
“Kris,” Kai grounds out, “motherfucker-”
“Kai, not now,” Xiumin gasps, “D.O is hurt, we have no time,” he turns towards Wu Fan, “you’re the dimension warlock in this space- we need help.”
Wu Fan’s face shows no more emotions, “tell me your wish.”
“My wish?” Kai is nearly shouting, arms clutching D.O closer to his chest, “D.O is dying, we are at war, and you’re here, asking to grant my wish? Fuck yo-”
“Your wish,” Wu Fan flicks his cold gaze towards Xiumin, “hurry.”
“The oracle, we need him to find the others,” both Xiumin and Kai turn to acknowledge Yixing standing behind Wu Fan and Yixing swears he sees a flash of yearning in their eyes, before Xiumin continues, “we need to find Lay, he’s the only one that can heal D.O,” he takes a sharp, shuddering breath, closing his eyes, “we need time.”
“I can’t grant you time in your dimension,” Wu Fan replies quietly, “it is against the time lord there.”
“The time lord is dead,” Kai spits, “Tao is gone.”
Wu Fan’s shoulders tense, his lips pulled into a thin line, “I will need something in return.”
Xiumin produces a sword, glistening under patches of dried blood, “the time lord’s sword, in exchange for locating the oracle.”
“I accept this as payment,” clutching the sword with one hand, Wu Fan reaches out his other palm, “however, it is worth more than your request, and I will not take more in value. I will send the dragon; he will locate and retrieve both the oracle and the healer.”
The air begins to crackle again. Xiumin huddles close, clutching Kai’s shoulder weakly. He mouths his thanks towards Wu Fan, the pain in his side the only thing keeping him conscious.
“Shit,” Kai curses, “we can’t stay here any longer. Kris, we’re fighting a fucking war, you should-”
Yixing doesn’t hear the end of Kai’s sentence as the trio is viciously ripped away from this space in another burst of black smoke and electricity, leaving Wu Fan standing with white knuckles around the sword.
He knows better than to ask questions, at least until the sun comes up, until the rain stops.
“What exactly are you?”
It’s nearing the end of the summer months, but the heat is still notorious. Wu Fan is amused, at the very least.
“I am a wish granter,” he states simply, resuming his attention towards his refreshing glass of lemonade, “I grant wishes for a price.”
“Those people the other day, Jongi-uh, Kai, they called you Kris, the...dimensional warlock,” he pauses to refill Wu Fan’s glass, “what’s that about?”
“There are things that are more than what they appear to you, Zhang Yixing. I am Wu Fan, handsome owner of this shop, your employer," he turns to look out the window wistfully, "I am also Kris, dragon master in their world. I am simultaneously more than both of those persons, a dimensional warlock, but appear to you as I am.”
Yixing’s default dazed expression sits firmly on his features. “Uhm, but that wasn’t Jongin, was it?”
A small smile forms on Wu Fan’s lips, “no, that was Kai, searching for Lay in order to save a friend’s life,” he pauses, seemingly in thought, “not the Jongin whom you care for, so don’t worry about it.”
“I could care less about that brat.,” Yixing scoffs, muttering under his breath, “so why aren’t you fighting for whatever war it is with them?”
“Remember what I told you, everything happens for a reason, everyone exists for a purpose.”
-
Autumn finally arrives, the air turning sharply cooler, the scenery morphing into shades of orange. Yixing watches contently as Lu Han chatters about this thing or that, giving appropriate responses at the appropriate places. They usually spend their time after classes on the rooftop of the university building while waiting for Jongin to walk pass their campus from his highschool, before heading home together in the same direction.
“You’re kidding, that Oh Sehun kid is messing with you, man.”
“Oh, come on, he’s a good kid, don’t be like that,” Lu Han shoves Yixing’s shoulder playfully against the railing on the side of the building.
Yixing unexpectedly falls over the other side, crashing towards the ground, two storeys high. The last thing he hears is the piercing sound of Lu Han’s scream, and footsteps rushing towards him.
When Yixing cracks open his heavy eyelids, he expects no less than Wu Fan sitting cross-legged next to his bed.
“Welcome back,” Wu Fan announces with an unamused smile.
From those words alone, Yixing knows half the story of what had occurred. He might be spaced out a lot of the time, but he prides himself as being exceptionally perceptive of things happening around him, things that concern cause and effect.
“How?” He manages weakly. His tongue feels like lead, his entire body like he’s been torn apart and then thrown back together forcefully.
“I have received the payments from two people,” Wu Fan clicks his tongue in slight annoyance, “you should be thankful for having people who care about you, they quite literally saved your life. Now they are bound to this shop.”
Yixing knows one of the two is Jongin, and is not ready to admit that the other is Lu Han. Against his better judgement, he asks Wu Fan what the price was.
“Maybe next time,” he touches a finger to his puckered lips, “or you can try asking him yourself.”
The next time Yixing wakes up, it is to Lu Han sitting beside his bed, a soft, worried and tired expression marring his beautiful features.
“Lu Han,” Yixing tries swallowing around his parched throat, “I’m sorry for scaring you with the fall, are you ok?”
“You fucking idiot,” on closer inspection, Yixing spots tears clinging to the edges of his best friend’s long eyelashes, “you should’ve stayed away from me, from the very beginning.”
“What?”
“I’m no good, Yixing,” Lu Han croaks, his Korean slurring impossibly, until he settles for mandarin instead, “I’m the reason for all the times you got hurt in the past, I’m bad luck, I can’t do this anymore, the next time, you’re really going to end up dead, there was so much blood, and Jongin, he was so scared I-”
“Lu Han, it’s ok. Jongin is strong, he’ll be ok,” he exerts all his strength to turn towards Lu Han, even more to manage a smile, “Wu Fan told me about you already, ever since the accident with Jongin.”
He remembers the conversation, Wu Fan’s warnings.
“He’s bad fortune, stay away from him.”
“But he’s Lu Han, it must be a coincidence-”
“Think about every time in the past when something bad has happened, and then think about Lu Han.”
“The car accident, it was--it was after saying goodbye to Lu Han, and I was crossing the road, but still a coincidence-”
“He is perfectly healthy, free from paranormal harassment, just born to bring misfortune to everybody around him except his parents. The price to alter that is too heavy, and will not bring him happiness either, so don’t even think about it.”
“...but it could be a co-” Yixing swallows his words, his bottom lip white between his teeth, Wu Fan’s words ringing in his head; there are no such things as coincidences.
Lu Han’s glassy eyes widen, “and you still stayed? Are you making fun of me?”
“No no, stupid,” it hurts his lungs to chuckle, “I stayed because I really enjoy your company, even your ridiculous Beijing accent.”
Lu Han leaves after a while, and the chair is replaced by Jongin.
“Tell me what you and Lu Han paid,” Yixing demands, eyes shut, much too exhausted to even look at Jongin, “please, I need to know.”
“Flesh and blood,” Jongin whispers weakly, slumped over against the side of the bed, his own consciousness slipping, “all the scars you withstood, all the blood you lost.”
“I’m impressed,” Wu Fan tells him a week later, “you’re not asking to give them back what they gave up for you, the old you would have done so.”
Chanyeol and Baekhyun take turns feeding him small cubes of cut fruit, going ahh~ at him while he absentmindedly eats whatever is shoved in his face.
“Something that is so easily given up, would be of no value,” Yixing explains, Wu Fan is very impressed, even whistling lightly, “if I were in their position, I would not want what I sacrificed to be thrown back at me like it was worth nothing, because my actions affect others.”
“You’ve changed,” Wu Fan’s voice takes on that dreamy edge again, smiling softly to himself, “but you’re right. There is nothing in this world that belongs only to you,” he elaborates, more to himself as he watches Yixing drift back into restful slumber, Chanyeol and Baekhyun curled up beside him, “you’ll never be free, but that is also what makes life interesting, infinitely sad, and dear.”
-
“What brings you here, Kim Jongin?”
The person in question shrugs one shoulder, his attention still focused on helping Chanyeol beat Baekhyun at Tekken 6. Jongin has been somewhat of a permanent fixture in the shop for the past week, much to Yixing’s relative dislike. He has no problem admitting to himself that Jongin’s company is enjoyable, the real difficulty is actually showing that on the outside. It’s mainly a pride thing.
Later in the night when the shop is much quieter only does Jongin answer Wu Fan’s query, to which Wu Fan lifts his eyebrows in mild surprise, “I need some help.”
“You have a wish?”
“It’s because it’s not something I can deal with myself,” Jongin grimaces, “it’s a dream.”
“A nightmare?”
“I don’t know, something like that,” he leans back against the back of the couch, covering his tired eyes with an arm, “it feels like a premonition, it’s very uncomfortable and doesn’t let me rest at all.”
“Ok then, I will take the watch you’re wearing right now,” Wu Fan motions to his wrist, “as part payment, on top of the dream itself.”
“You want my nightmare as payment?” Even as he says this, Jongin is handing over his watch, a past birthday gift from a past girlfriend.
“Yes, your dream in exchange for Yixing’s services, the watch is just a deposit for finding the Dream Buyer to go with him.”
“What did you just say?” Yixing’s head pokes out from around the corner to the kitchen, “did you just send me on another job without my consent?”
“I don’t need your consent, you work for me.” Wu Fan is giving him the smile with his lips pulled over pink gums, the one that is simultaneously disarming and infuriating.
They find the Dream Buyer, a surprisingly young looking boy with raven hair and even darker eyes, named Zitao. After being introduced, Yixing looks on with fascination as Zitao starts whining at Wu Fan without the other smacking him over the head, like he does with everybody else.
“Taozi, I will promise you a good dream if you go with Yixing on his job,” he gestures towards Yixing standing awkwardly to the side, “for a price, of course, but a discounted price, if you help him.”
“I never do this, ever,” Zitao eyes Yixing skeptically, “but since you give your word, Wu Fan ge, I’ll do it.”
“So, what am I actually supposed to do?”
“You dream Jongin’s dream, and then dispel it with this,” Wu Fan hands over a bright yellow balloon, Yixing takes it dumbly, “this balloon contains a good dream, this is what Zitao trades in, dreams.”
“Uhm.”
“Now go,” Wu Fan smiles in the sickening way again that has Yixing blanching, “sweet dreams.”
Before he knows it, Yixing has crumpled into a heap in a place shrouded in deep darkness, Zitao landing nimbly on his feet next to him. The scenery around them start fading into focus, shifting all too quickly from places Yixing recognises as Jongin’s highschool, their dance studio, his university. Events play out before him, some of which he was present in, others with Jongin alone.
Yixing quickly realises that this is what Jongin dreams about, the past.
“This is really weird,” he comments, watching Jongin dream about the few days he had spent with Lu Han at the beach. Zitao doesn’t even bother to acknowledge him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yixing notices a shadow looming closer and closer, eating away at the edges of Jongin’s dream at a frightening pace. Eventually, the shadow has engulfed every bit of the dream scenery, leaving Jongin curled up into a ball, breathing harshly into his pulled up knees, young and vulnerable. Yixing’s heart clenches at the realisation that Jongin dreams of loneliness.
“This is a dream,” is the first thing Zitao says to Yixing since they met, “he can’t see or hear us, but it’s nearing the end. You should do something right about now.”
He sounds annoyed, but looks murderous as he gestures towards the balloon Yixing’s hand. Yixing stares at it stupidly. Suddenly, the balloon pops, drenching everything in blinding light, until he can no longer make out Jongin’s frame in the distance.
It’s morning already when Yixing wakes up to the voices of Chanyeol and Baekhyun pestering him for breakfast. He overhears Zitao whining and bargaining with Wu Fan over a bright blue balloon in Wu Fan’s hands.
“Taozi, because I sent Yixing, a human into the dream, and managed to turn the nightmare into a good dream, this is going to cost you, you know that.”
“But ge,” Zitao is on the verge of stomping his feet, “ok ok, I’ll give you two dreams in exchange for the one you have, please? Ge, please, I really want it.”
“Three for this one, Taozi,” Wu Fan’s voice is dripping with victory as he watches Zitao’s face fall, “no less than that.”
“Ge! Fine, take it!” Three balloons are plucked from the bunch Zitao carries and shoved into Wu Fan’s hand in exchange for the single blue one, “I’ve been robbed, I hope you’re happy,” Zitao sniffs.
Wu Fan ruffles Zitao’s head fondly, a smile colouring his voice, “you know you got a great deal, you’re secretly happy, silly boy.” It takes him by surprise, a pleasant surprise, Yixing has never seen such an honestly happy expression replacing Wu Fan’s usual scowl.
After Zitao leaves, Yixing brings out breakfast. Chanyeol tells him Jongin has left earlier after giving his thanks. As per usual, Yixing demands the right to know what Wu Fan threw him into and asks about the Dream Buyer.
“Taozi is the local Dream Buyer in the area. His job is to collect valuable dreams, like the one he took this morning, and raise them into even better dreams.”
“What would one do with a good dream balloon anyways,” Yixing frankly cannot see the point of it all. Wu Fan tsk’s at him, Chanyeol and Baekhyun join in. He frowns, a little bit offended.
“A dream is your heart making a very desperate wish, hence good dreams are in great demand because of the positive energy they contain. Which was why Jongin felt the need to dispel his nightmare. He believed it was an ominous desire for something terrible to happen,” Wu Fan sips delicately at his coffee, “If you wish for something hard enough, Yixing, it will come true.”
-
The first time that they really feel winter is when Wu Fan demands soju to go with all their meals. Chanyeol brightens up impossibly, while Baekhyun’s face falls when Wu Fan sends them to the storeroom to fetch the high quality alcohol he has received in the past as payments. He explains that they have not had very great experiences with a drunk Chanyeol in the past, Baekhyun being on the receiving end of Chanyeol’s loud, sometimes violent antics.
Yixing smiles as he sets the table for dinner. The night is spent in celebration of winter, the end of Yixing’s second year in university, alcohol, and friendship. Yixing watches Wu Fan over the top of his shot glass, thinking about how he had spent this time last year - in his warm, electric-heated bedroom with the same winter food and the same alcohol, but cold and hollow and alone.
“You look troubled,” Wu Fan comments, smoking a long, graceful pipe with intricate metal carvings along its spine, a rare sight in place of his usual hand rolled cigarettes.
“I’m smiling,” Yixing scoffs, and he is, until Wu Fan’s inquisitorial stare causes him to lower his eyes to his drink, “Lu Han went home for the winter holidays already,” he downs his shot of soju, “to his family, in Beijing.” The taste of soju burns at the back of his throat, along with a hint of something else very ugly, very similar to bitterness.
“Ah,” Wu Fan reaches out his glass for Yixing to refill it, “but you’re not homesick. You can’t be homesick, if you do not have a home there.”
It punches Yixing in his gut, causing him to glare at his employer, indignant profanities on the tip of his tongue because how dare he, it’s the place he was born. But before he could say anything, he is tackled backwards out of his chair and onto the floor by Chanyeol’s long, gangly limbs.
Chanyeol snakes his arms around Yixing’s middle, lying on his side, tangling his legs around his waist, singing at the top of his lungs, while Baekhyun, red in the face as well, sits himself promptly on top of Yixing’s stomach, leaning back against Chanyeol, and joining in the mess of drunken song.
Yixing can’t breathe, Chanyeol and Baekhyun sit extremely warm on top of him, and Wu Fan’s low laughter sounds nearly melodious in his pleasantly buzzed state. He finds himself breathlessly laughing along.
By the end of the night, Yixing is tasked with putting Chanyeol and Baekhyun in bed because Wu Fan suddenly exclaimed that he’s waiting for a customer. Painstakingly, he arranges Chanyeol’s limbs into a comfortable position in Wu Fan’s bed, and yet Chanyeol still curls into a ball, pouting for all its worth. “Yixing ge,” Chanyeol slurs, “home is here, with Chanyeol and Baekhyun and Wu Fan hyung.” “Yeah, so don’t be sad,” Baekhyun adds sleepily, huddled up on Chanyeol’s side. Smiling fondly, he says his good nights and shuts the bedroom door quietly.
In the living room, Wu Fan is already smartly dressed in a dark, wine coloured, double-breasted suit with a winter fur collar, smoking a fresh pipe. Yixing stops his track by the door, slightly shocked at the customer already in discussion with Wu Fan. He is sure that the boy sitting across from Wu Fan is Jongdae, a student from his university. He has seen him around before, a music major, a friend of a friend.
It’s the content of his request that stops Yixing from making his presence known to the company inside. He stands with his back against the wall right outside the living room door, listening intently. Jongdae’s request is odd.
“Nobody notices me. I want to be special.”
“You have to be more specific with your wish, Mr. Kim,” Wu Fan takes another drag from the pipe, “how exactly do you want to achieve that?”
“I saw on tv, those people who can see spirits, everybody loves them,” there is a hint of desperation in his voice, “I-I want to be like them.”
A minute of silence passes with Jongdae fidgeting in his seat, Wu Fan studying his customer, and Yixing fisting the material of his sweatpants, gritting his teeth. He knows better than to interfere, not yet.
“You want to be able to see spirits,” Wu Fan’s voice is levelled as he leans forward against the antique wooden table, “is that right?”
“Yes.”
This is as much as Yixing can take. He storms into the room, glaring down Wu Fan, who doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Why-”
“Yixing,” a large hand wraps around Yixing’s small wrist, “please prepare some tea for our guest.”
The fury swells up inside his chest, shaking through his body, so much so that Jongdae visibly tenses. “Fuck you, you’re going to grant his wish,” he spits, wrestling his arm free, “you’re going to let him suff-”
“Yixing,” this time, there is enough authority in his tone, enough danger in his eyes, that it shuts him up, “tea, please.”
By the time Yixing returns with a tray of genmaicha in a clear glass tea set, Jongdae is long gone. He pours the tea for Wu Fan, then sits down dejectedly in the chair previously occupied by their customer.
“I’m sorry,” Yixing whispers, eyes downcast, “for interrupting just now. It’s just- Jongdae is such a good person, such a good singer. I don’t understand why he would exchange his voice to be...like that,” like me, he doesn’t add.
The smirk that Wu Fan gives him is unexpected, but his expression immediately softens before leaning his head on one hand on the table, “my dear Yixing,” he touches the long fingers of his other hand gently down the side of Yixing’s face, pausing at his dimple, “good and bad are very human concepts, and since wish-granting does not qualify as human activities, I am not one to determine the application of these qualities.”
Inside his head, Yixing understands what Wu Fan is saying, he has for a long time already. It just hit a little bit close to heart this time. He lets out a shuddering sigh, tilting into the warmth of Wu Fan’s hand on his cheek.
“People have the freedom to wish for what they want, and nobody has the right to stop them from doing it,” Wu Fan pulls him closer, “even if it’s a wish for unhappiness.”
Their lips meet across the round table, over the cups of rapidly cooling tea. The tightening hold that has been in his chest ever since the day he met Wu Fan finally bursts into fluttering butterflies. Kissing Wu Fan soothes his boiling blood, slows down his heart and mind; Yixing feels like kissing Wu Fan traps them in a moment in time, leaving him breathless.
“Remember that, Zhang Yixing.”
-
One day, a cycle of seasons later, Yixing meets Wu Fan in a dream. He knows it’s a dream, because there are cherry blossom trees raining petals heavily around them. Yixing knows it is still a few months away from spring, before any of the trees will be in blossom at all, so he isn’t as bothered as he should be, watching Wu Fan disintegrate from his feet up, disappearing into glittering smoke that mix with the pretty pink petals.
“This is not a dream,” Wu Fan tells him abruptly, Yixing finds it silly that the panic inside him is rising; of course it’s a dream, what is he talking abou-
“Yixing, this is not a dream,” his eyes are soft, maybe even sad, “my time in this world is up, I’m dying.”
“What,” the panic tastes very real now as he tries and fails to move closer, stuck in a pocket in time different from Wu Fan’s continuing one, “what the fuck, who made this decision, Wu Fan, you can’t just-” Not now, not when you’ve become something so, so much more, so dear.
“When I am gone,” the cocky edge is back in his voice, “your wish will be granted, and you will be free to go. Isn’t that great?”
“I-” no, “I don’t understand.”
“Everyone exists for a purpose, and I have long served mine,” I know, “it is the inevitable,” I know, “everyone dies eventually.” I fucking know, Yixing doesn’t even bother with stopping the tears.
“You said,” his voice shakes, “you said that if I wish for something hard enough, it will come true. My wish is for your wish to come true,” he chokes, “I want to grant you your wish, please.”
“My dear Yixing,” simple words that mean more than what it appears, that has Yixing completely broken, “my wish is just that you continue to exist.”
“Then I will stay at the shop,” Yixing watches helplessly as Wu Fan’s chest dissolves into smoke, “I will exist for as long as I can.”
Yixing swears he sees Wu Fan’s honest smile just before everything is gone - the smoke, the cherry blossoms, Wu Fan.
-
Jongin drops the week’s groceries onto the kitchen counter, “if you don’t need anything else, I’m late for rehearsals.”
“Your recital is this weekend,” Yixing frowns from the doorway, gently blowing sweet scented smoke into the air, “sorry I can’t make it, again, reasons.”
Jongin waves him away and leaves the shop after bidding goodbyes. It is an unexpected phenomenon somewhat, Jongin becoming the closest to Yixing since his takeover, understanding his predicament of not being able to leave the shop and hence carrying out all his outside chores for him. Yixing doesn’t express his thanks explicitly, they’ve become beyond requiring mere words of appreciation.
Just last month, Yixing has had to apologetically reject Jongin’s invitation to his wedding. ‘It was a small, hushed reception with closest friends and family. He was forgiven, but Jongin later told him with a bemused smile that Lu Han was there, with Oh Sehun by his side. Yixing had rolled his eyes at that. Curse Oh Sehun, the lucky bastard.
A hundred years trapped within the boundaries of the little shop is a really long time, crucial to the transformation into a being of power, no longer human. Time stops for Yixing, even as the world continues to progress with tell tale signs of spring approaching. While he tailors some of Wu fan’s wardrobe to fit his own sizes, more often than not, Yixing takes to wearing flowing silk robes with butterfly patterns, beautiful fabric that he had found in a large trunk hidden in a corner of the storeroom.
After he drops out of university on reason of serious medical conditions, he spends most of his days pouring over the literature Wu Fan has collected, quickly learning the trade of wish-granting, despite having problems with taking too much or too little in payments for his first few jobs. Wu Fan had told him before that he had talent, the ability, or what he would have said, everyone exists for a purpose.
Today, Yixing is expecting a customer. He has learnt to recognize the tingling feeling in his chest as a sign.
“Chanyeol, Baekhyun,” he distinguishes the flaming end of his cigarette, “prepare the white suit for me please, our guest will be here shortly.”
“Yes, ge!” A trail of loud voices and stomping feet sound throughout the hallways towards their shared bedroom.
Yixing watches Baekhyun pull his sleek, black tie in place for him, while Chanyeol gently brushes his fringe out of his eyes. He prepares the green tea himself, and sets out the delicate china on the tea room table where he has all of his business discussions, before seating into the high-back armchair and lighting another rolled cigarette.
The chime of the front door bell echoes through the foyer, Yixing smokes another. He listens to the customer’s request with a dimpled smile, he smokes another, before deciding on the payment.
“Junmyeon,” Yixing begins carefully, “this will cost you another quarter of whatever is left of your life. Do you still want to proceed?”
Junmyeon nods his head firmly, and requests that Yixing not inform him of how much time he has left. Live dangerously, die without regrets.
“Very well, I have accepted this payment, in exchange for ‘one last chance’.”
By the time Junmyeon leaves the shop for the second time in his life, Yixing’s ashtray is full of cigarette stubs. He methodically eases the frown from his face, taking a couple of deep breaths. Ten years in the business and he still thinks he needs more time to truly accept the unpleasant outcomes, such that he had just sent Junmyeon to his death without bothering with his reasons, that taking a quarter of his remainder life means he will die promptly tomorrow.
It doesn’t faze him, the concept of death. He will grant Wu Fan’s wish and continue existing in the shop, even beyond the hundred years he is bound, until he too has to die, because everyone dies eventually.
This time round, Yixing is no longer just the helpless bystander; he is the owner of a wish-granting shop visible only to those who seek them, who holds power to grant wishes for a price of equivalent value, no more, no less.
a/n: I loved all the prompts, but this was an enjoyable prompt especially because I had to revisit a series I am quite fond of! I’m sorry beforehand if it is confusing for people who are unfamiliar with the series, I can try answering queries because I’m a messy writer at best /o\ but I do recommend the series!!