k-pop; melt you down 1/2
Title: Melt you down
Pairing: Yixing/Wu Fan, teeny tiny Jongin/Zitao/Sehun
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Summary: AU. Yixing doesn’t expect his new neighbor to be the same man who had stopped by the ice cream shop the night before, the man with the big gummy smile that still lingers bright in his mind.
Author’s Note: 15,255 words. This is for the ice cream square on fluff_bingo...or, well, it started out that way and morphed into this...thing idk. I just wanted to write some cute and fluffy Christmas-y fic!! Idk if this lives up to it, but this is my holiday gift to all of you. :3 I hope you enjoy!! (The random ice cream flavor names I stole from Ben & Jerry’s. >_>)
The small ice cream parlor rarely gets traffic late at night when the chill of the winter settles into the air, but Yixing doesn’t mind the dullness, wiping down counters and and tables and singing along to the music that plays from the speakers overhead. His coworker and friend, Jongin, complains about it though, so much that Yixing just laughs and pushes him out of the door, says he’ll cover for him if their manager asks.
“I owe you one,” Jongin says, pulling a furry cap over his head and slinging a backpack over his shoulders. He’s been working on calculus problems in-between serving out cups of Bohemian Raspberry and chocolate-peanut butter swirl on waffle cones.
“Don’t worry about it,” Yixing says, waving him off, and Jongin grins as he heads out the door. He waves to Yixing through the window as he passes by, and then he’s gone, and Yixing is left alone in an empty shop with only the cheerful drones of Girl’s Generation’s Gee playing in the background.
He heads to the back closet to grab a broom when he hears the door open, thinking it’s just probably Jongin having forgotten his cell phone again, laughs as he walks out and says, “What did you leave behind this--Oh, hi!” He feels a slight blush rise high in his cheeks at the newcomer, a tall, blonde-haired man who looks a little out of place, glancing around the shop like he’s never been to an ice cream store before.
His gaze falls onto Yixing, who quickly rests the broom in his hand against the nearest wall and walks up behind the counter. “Hello,” he says jovially, “what can I get you tonight?”
The man blinks at him, seemingly offput by the brightness of Yixing’s voice, and then glances up at the menu boards behind Yixing’s head. He stares for a long moment, and Yixing taps his fingers along the countertop, says, “It’s okay, take your time,” and the man looks sharply back down at Yixing like he’d just insulted him. But then he laughs, and it’s a big, gummy, sort of embarrassed sound, and he hides his mouth behind a large hand, and Yixing realizes he’s probably much younger than he looks, dressed in a dark suit that’s slightly wrinkled around the sides, the buttons on his white shirt undone at the top.
“Sorry,” the man says in a low voice, “I’ve just never been here before.”
Yixing smiles. “Why didn’t you say so?” he questions. “I can tell you everything here that’s worth trying.”
The man gives him a curious look, but then nods. “Please do,” he says and his smile is soft and makes Yixing’s heart shudder inexplicably.
Yixing waves him over to the left where they’ve got around ten tubs of ice cream set out, a few of them now down to their last few scoops after a long day. “I’m fond of the Red Velvet Cake, though our new one, Chocolate Therapy, is really great, too.” He grabs one of the small testing spoons and dips it into the chocolate tub, holds it out for the customer, who looks at it for a moment before trying it out.
He grins around the spoon and nods. “I like it,” he replies. “What else have you got?”
Yixing offers him scoops of a few other flavors, laughing at the faces the man makes as he tests them. In the end Yixing gets him a pint of Chocolate Therapy, and another of Boston Cream Pie and rings them up, sliding the pints into a small brown bag and exchanging it for the cash he hands over.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Yixing says, handing over his change with a smile.
“Thanks for your help,” the man says and he lifts a hand up in a wave as he walks out the door, and Yixing stares after him long after he’s disappeared from view.
And later, after he’s had a few more stragglers stop by for a quick ice cream fix before the night ends, and he’s cleaned up and locked up, wrapping a thick red scarf around his neck and heading home, Yixing can’t quite shake the memory of the man with that big smile out of his head.
The apartment next to Yixing’s on the third floor of his building has been vacant for over a month, but the next morning Yixing wakes to the sounds of someone walking in and out of the door, and a slight hammering against the wall, like someone is putting up a picture frame.
The last tenant had been an elderly woman who would invite Yixing over for tea and snacks Saturday afternoons when he returned from a morning shift at the ice cream shop. She was soft and kind and told him stories about her grandchildren and Yixing would sometimes talk to her for hours. She reminded him of his grandmother in Changsha, whom he hasn’t seen in a few years, and so when she passed away, Yixing felt as though a little piece of him had gone with her.
He’s happy to learn that there seems to be someone new moving in, because Yixing likes people and he likes meeting new people, so he drags himself out of bed to shower and dress, and maybe stop by to say hi before heading off to work.
He doesn’t expect his new neighbor to be the man he saw the night before, whose smiling face hadn’t quite yet escaped his mind, to be the one to answer the door.
“Wow,” he says, blinking in surprise. “It really is a small world.”
The man stares at him for a long, long moment, and then Yixing sees the realization fill his eyes. “You’re from the ice cream place,” he says slowly.
Yixing nods. “I’m also your neighbor,” he says and smiles brightly. “Zhang Yixing, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Thanks, have a good day!” Yixing says, handing over a small cup of Cherry Mania to a young schoolgirl who takes it one handed, her eyes glued to the screen of her phone. Yixing shakes his head as she walks away, turns away to clean up the mess of toppings Jongin had made earlier in his haste to get cones for three screaming kids and their frazzled looking mother.
“Hi,” a familiar voice says, before Yixing can get much done, and he looks up in surprise to find the man he’d met the night before, his new neighbor, standing on the other side of the counter a nervous smile on his face.
“Wu Fan,” Yixing says, remembering the name the man had told him that morning easily. “You...You actually came by.” He’d told Wu Fan to stop by the shop that day if he had the time, but now he’s having trouble wondering why he even did such a thing.
“You said I could,” Wu Fan replies simply, shrugs, and he fiddles with the neck of his tie. He’s wearing a suit like he did last night, and he’s holding a sleek black briefcase in his right hand.
“Did you just get off work?” Yixing asks, and Wu Fan nods. Yixing glances at the watch on his wrist, and smiles at Wu Fan, reaching around his back to untie the knots of the work apron they make him wear. “Hey, Jongin, I’m taking my break,” he says as he passes Jongin by, patting him on the shoulder, and Jongin glances over at Wu Fan and then back at Yixing who pretends not to notice the smirk that’s tugging at the side of his lips.
Yixing leads Wu Fan to a table by the window. “I wasn’t really expecting you to show up,” Yixing says, chuckling.
“I don’t really know many people here,” Wu Fan admits, runs a hand through his blonde hair. The roots are showing dark like he hasn’t dyed it in awhile. “I moved for work, so I’m still getting used to everything.”
“What do you do?” Yixing asks, curious, and he leans forward on his elbows upon the table between them.
Wu Fan looks a little taken aback but Yixing’s interest, but he relaxes after a moment and leans back against his chair. “I work in sales for a travel company,” he says. “I visit different hotels in the area and work with their marketing to help promote them through our company.” He smiles at Yixing’s spaced-out look. “It’s pretty boring stuff.”
Yixing shakes his head quickly. “No, that sounds really cool,” he says enthusiastically. “So you get to travel a lot?”
Wu Fan nods. “Yeah, when I’m lucky. I just came back from a week in Vancouver. Canada,” he adds when Yixing tilts his head to the side. “And then I find out they want me to move to Seoul to work at the Korea branch; our company is based in Beijing.” He sighs and slumps slightly in his seat, before quickly straightening back up and Yixing wonders if he’s always so straight-laced. “I had to pack up everything in a weekend, all on top of jetlag and lack of sleep.”
“That’s still so exciting,” Yixing says cheerfully. “Getting to go different places! I’d love to do that.”
Wu Fan chuckles. “Maybe I’ll take you with me next time,” he teases, but Yixing laughs, bounces up in his chair and points a finger at Wu Fan’s face.
“I’m holding you to that,” he replies seriously, and Wu Fan laughs the same kind of big laugh Yixing had seen the night before.
“I’m glad I met you,” Wu Fan says when his amusement has died down, but there’s still the shining mirth in his soft eyes, and Yixing beams.
There's hammering on the walls at three in the morning that wakes Yixing up with a headache. He rolls around in bed for awhile but can't fall back asleep and decides that if hes gonna get awake, then he might as well do something.
He doesn't exactly plan to make two steaming mugs of cinnamon tea and head next door, but somehow he's there on the doorstep looks up at a disheveled Wu Fan who blinks at him.
"I brought tea," Yixing says, and tucks under Wu Fan’s outstretched arm that holds the door open for him and into his apartment. There are boxes everywhere, most of them ripped open while the rest are still taped shut. A large leather couch sits against the wall, facing an entertainment console that’s missing its television and DVD player. The glass coffee table is stacked with travel books and magazines.
Yixing turns back to Wu Fan who is slowly closing the door, smiles at the way he’s got his hair tied back up in a lopsided ponytail. “Here,” he says, holding out a mug. “I figured if you were going to keep me awake by hammering on the walls, the least I could do was give you some tea.”
Wu Fan’s eyes grow a little wide, pausing with the rim of the mug against his lips. “I’m so sorry,” he says, “I was trying to keep it down, I really didn’t think you’d--”
“It’s okay,” Yixing says, brushing it off with a wave of his hand, and he laughs as the too-long sleeve of his oversized shirt flops over his fingers. He tugs his shirt back up and spins on his heel, walking further into the apartment. He sets his mug down on the coffee table and flops himself in front of an open box. “Do you want help?”
“I can’t make you do that, it’s three in the morning,” Wu Fan says, shaking his head.
“You’re awake.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Well, now I can’t, either, and wouldn’t unpacking be more fun with someone helping you out?” Yixing asks, smiling up at him.
Wu Fan stares at Yixing like he’s never seen anyone quite like him before in his life, but then chuckles, shaking his head. “I guess you’re right,” he says, and joins Yixing on the floor, pulling another opened box before his crossed legs. “This is really good,” he adds after a moment, sipping at his drink, and Yixing grins.
“You’re welcome,” he says cheekily, and Wu Fan laughs, gently nudging him in the ribs with his elbow, and Yixing laughs, too. He opens up the box in front of him and says, “So! Let’s see what kind of dirty secrets you have stashed away in these boxes.”
“Ah, so that’s why you wanted to help unpack,” Wu Fan says, and there’s amusement bright in his eyes. “The truth comes out.”
Yixing pulls a small 5 x 7” picture frame from the box, filled with an image of Wu Fan who is unmistakable with his blonde hair, and another tall boy with a silly looking smile and dyed orange hair. He sets it up onto the coffee table beside his mug. “It’s my right to know if my new neighbor is a serial killer or not.”
Wu Fan makes a small noise in the back of his throat and takes another drink of his tea, and he looks at Yixing a little contemplatively. “Don’t worry,” he says finally. “I won’t murder you after you brought me tea.”
“Oh, good,” Yixing replies, and he taps his own mug against Wu Fan’s with a smile before bringing it up to his lips.
“Hey,” Wu Fan says, standing just outside Yixing’s door. “I ran out of eggs, I was wondering if maybe you had one I could take?”
Yixing laughs, holds open his door and lets Wu Fan into the apartment. “Sure,” he says. “Were you making something?”
“French toast,” Wu Fan replies, and he stands awkwardly in the doorway as Yixing pads back into the apartment. He stops and blinks at Wu Fan, laughs again and waves him inside. Wu Fan gives a small smile and slips out of his shoes to follow Yixing into the kitchen. “I hope I wasn’t bothering you.”
“Not at all,” Yixing says. “I was just practicing.”
Wu Fan stops at the counter, leaning against it as Yixing rifles through the fridge for eggs. “Practicing?”
“Guitar,” Yixing says, pulling back triumphantly with an egg in hand. He hands it over to Wu Fan, ignores the slight tingling feeling that runs up his veins when their fingers touch. He points to the couch where he’s left his acoustic guitar, and Wu Fan glances at it for a moment before turning back.
“I didn’t know you played.”
“You don’t know a lot about me,” Yixing says, smiling wide. “Yet.”
Wu Fan smiles back. “Were you working on something in particular?”
Yixing leans against the counter beside Wu Fan, his arm brushing up against Wu Fan’s left, and from here, looking up at him, Wu Fan is so very tall. “I give guitar and piano lessons to kids during the week, whenever I'm not at the ice cream shop," Yixing says. "One of my kids cancelled tonight so I was working on a song I've been writing lately."
"That’s...that's really cool," Wu Fan says, looking at Yixing in curious interest. "I guess I always just figured you-"
"Worked at the ice cream shop?" Yixing says, shakes his head with a chuckle. "I love that place but it's not exactly the best job in the world."
Wu Fan nods, and there’s a bit of understanding in his eyes. Yixing wonders if maybe Wu Fan’s job is much the same, but he doesn’t dare ask, not yet. "You should let me hear it sometime...the song you're writing," Wu Fan says, suddenly, and he ducks his head a bit in embarrassment as if he only just realized what he said. "I mean, if you want or--"
"When I finish it, maybe I will," Yixing says with a smirk. "If you treat me to French toast sometime in return.”
"It's a deal,” Wu Fan says with a laugh that rings in Yixing’s ears long after he’s left.
“Oh, no, look what the cat dragged in,” Yixing says, grinning widely as his friends Lu Han, Zitao and Minseok walk into the shop, shaking wet snow-drizzled hair from their faces and rubbing hands together to warm them up.
“Very funny,” Lu Han says, swatting at Yixing over the counter with the end of his giant multi-colored scarf, and Yixing ducks backward with a laugh while Minseok rolls his eyes at the two of them, perpetually used to their antics. There’s a tall boy Yixing’s never met before standing close to Zitao, looking around the place curiously, and he lights up when Jongin appears beside Yixing, waving at everyone.
“Hey guys,” he says, and introduces the new face to Yixing as Sehun, a friend who’s in a few classes with him and Zitao.
“So was it Lu Han’s brilliant idea to come to an ice cream shop in the middle of a blizzard?” Yixing asks. It’s been an incredibly slow day, and Yixing’s spent most of his shift singing to songs loudly on the radio with Jongin who came over an hour ago after his evening class ended.
“No, it was Jongin’s,” Lu Han says, and there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, and Yixing catches the way Jongin seems to be pleading with him to not spill a secret. Yixing blinks at them, and Lu Han continues, “He said if we stopped by around this time we’d see something interesting.”
Yixing furrows his brows, looks at Jongin who is glaring at Lu Han. “See what?”
“Your boyfriend,” Zitao says, amused. “Jongin says he comes by everyday around this time.”
“But I don’t have a boyfriend?” Yixing says, confused, and Jongin finally stops glaring at Lu Han to give Yixing an incredulous look.
“Hello? The tall, blonde guy that comes by everyday when he’s off of work to come get you so you can walk home together?” Jongin says slowly like Yixing is an idiot, and Yixing stares at him for a few long moments before opening his mouth in an, “Oh.”
Then he laughs. “Wu Fan is not my boyfriend. He’s my new neighbor.” All of his friends give Yixing a skeptical look. Even Sehun, whom Yixing doesn't even know yet, looks disbelievingly at him. “I’m serious!” he insists. “We’re just neighbors. I don’t even know if we’re really friends.”
“Stop lying,” Jongin says, bumping his shoulder against Yixing’s. “You talk about him all the time, and he comes to pick you up everyday!”
“He walks by here anyway to get home!”
“Excuses,” Minseok says, and Yixing shakes his head.
“You guys are making a big deal out of nothing,” he says. He mock-glares at his friends and points a finger around at all of them. “Now order something or I’m obligated to kick you out. Only paying customers can hide in here.”
“There’s no rule like that,” Lu Han protests, but gives up as Zitao and Sehun cut before him and give Jongin their orders. He sighs and says to Yixing, “Just get me my favorite.”
“Sure,” Yixing says with a smile, then turns to Minseok. “What about you?”
It’s that slow of an evening that after Yixing and Jongin get everyone their orders, they join them by pulling two tables together by the window. Yixing hasn’t seen them in awhile; Lu Han busy with his evening language classes and his job at the music store two blocks over, Minseok with long work hours at his stuffy office, and Zitao with school, and they end up chatting about everything and anything they’ve missed lately, all while Jongin and Lu Han toss in questions about Wu Fan that Yixing easily dodges with a pleasant smile.
The thing is that Jongin is right, and Wu Fan does stop by the shop after work almost everyday so the two of them can head home together. It wasn’t really anything they planned, but just happened to do once the week before and then slowly became routine. Yixing likes it, though, because well, he likes Wu Fan, who is kind and intriguing. But it isn’t anything more than that.
Of course when Wu Fan does show up ten minutes before Yixing’s shift ends like he usually does, Jongin nudges Lu Han hard in the ribs and nods toward the door, and the rest of them all fail at discreetly looking over curiously. Wu Fan scans the shop before he seems to notice Yixing sitting at a table, and Jongin and Lu Han quickly look away, turning to each other to mutter something and Yixing sighs and rolls his eyes.
“Could you two be anymore obvious?” he whispers as he stands and waves to Wu Fan who walks over curiously.
“Working hard, I see,” Wu Fan comments with a smile, glancing over at Yixing’s friends.
“Ignore them, they’re nobody,” Yixing replies and snickers at Lu Han’s outraged yelp, which turns into an aching moan as Minseok kicks him under the table.
"If you say so," Wu Fan says, looking mighty amused, and Yixing nods enthusiastically, taking Wu Fan's wrist and steering him away.
"I really do," he says. "Let me get my things and we can go." He turns back to the table, pretends not to notice the way everyone drops their gazes, and asks, "Jongin, you can lock up tonight, right?"
"Yeah, sure, no problem," he says, waves a hand in the air lightly.
"Thanks," Yixing says, and he stops in the back room to grab his coat, wrapping his scarf around his neck and waving goodbye to the others before leading the way out, Wu Fan following after.
They settle into a slow comfortable walk side by side, and Yixing shoves his hands into his pockets to hide from the cold, wishing he would remember to buy himself some gloves.
"Were those your friends?" Wu Fan asks after a long stretch of easy silence, the only sounds belonging to the cars driving past, tires slushing against wet snow.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Yixing replies, and then laughs. “No, I mean, they’re great, but occasionally a little obnoxious.”
Wu Fan nods knowingly. “I understand,” he says.
“Next time I’ll introduce you,” Yixing says brightly. “If I did today, they might’ve scared you away.”
“I doubt that,” Wu Fan says with a snort. “Nothing scares me.”
Yixing hums in amusement, bumps into Wu Fan’s side and laughs as Wu Fan almost trips over his own feet and into the street. He grabs his hand and yanks him back quickly, and Wu Fan’s eyes are big in surprise. “I bet you were just scared of that.”
“Because you almost killed me,” Wu Fan retorts, but then he’s smiling, and Yixing’s hand feels so very warm in Wu Fan’s, and he doesn’t want to pull away.
He does, though, with a laugh, and shoves his hand back into his pocket. The rest of the way back to their apartment is spent quietly, but Yixing doesn’t mind, and he’s glad that Wu Fan doesn’t find it necessary to fill space with conversation. They haven’t known each other for very long yet, but Yixing really likes that about Wu Fan, likes how easily the two of them seem to fall together.
“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yixing says when they make it up to their floor. He twirls his keyring around a finger and quickly catches it when it almost drops to the floor.
“Actually, I’m traveling again for the next few days, going to Busan to work with some properties down there,” Wu Fan says, scratches the back of his neck.
“In that case, nevermind," Yixing says with a laugh, but suddenly stops as a thought occurs to him. "Your phone. Can I see?"
Perplexed, Wu Fan nods and pulls it out from his pocket, sets it onto Yixing's open palm. Yixing smiles and quickly programs his number in. He calls his own phone and saves Wu Fan's information into his contacts list, and hands Wu Fan’s phone back.
"There. So in case you miss me, you can call."
"Who said I would miss you?" Wu Fab questions, but he's staring down at Yixing's number with a tiny smile sneaking onto his face and Yixing pats his shoulder.
"You will," he says, and turns to head into his apartment.
Miss me yet, Yixing sends to Wu Fan the next afternoon as he finishes up a guitar lesson and heads off to the next one for the day.
I think you’re the one who misses me.
Yixing doesn’t see his reply until he’s back home in the evening, checking through emails and missed calls. He smiles at the message, and sends back, Never. :P, and tries not to think about how he's pretty sure that's a lie.
And as the days go on, Yixing thinks he may have gotten a little too used to Wu Fan's presence that suddenly the days when he's gone seem dull in comparison. He knows Wu Fan is working so Yixing tries not to message him too often, but he keeps his phone close by in case Wu Fan writes him.
He's working a night shift on a lonely Saturday when Wu Fan walks into the shop, hands tucked into the front pockets of his thick black coat, half of his face obscured by a blue scarf.
"Hi," Wu Fan says, pulling down his scarf enough to speak.
"You're back!" Yixing says and he fights down the flush that tries to fill his cheeks, hopes Wu Fan doesn't sense his happiness, and ignores the tiny voice in his head that questions why he's so happy in the first place.
Wu Fan just smiles, and it's the kind that Yixing has really grown to like, the one that seems the most completely Wu Fan, lighting up his eyes and making Yixing's heart glow in warmth.
"See," Wu Fan says, "I knew you missed me."
When Yixing can’t sleep some nights, he sits out on the small balcony and strums his guitar. It’s cold out at one in the morning, but he wraps his red scarf around his neck and throws on a sweater, and curls up on the floor, resting back against the sliding glass door. He’s quiet, mostly plucking aimlessly at the strings, eyes close as he whispers words of a nameless song under his breath, and lets his mind wander to its fullest.
He doesn’t realize he’s even being watched until he finishes playing out the chords in his head, and his fingers fall lax against the strings, and a familiar voice cuts through the crisp winter air.
“That was really nice,” Wu Fan says, and Yixing turns to find him standing out on his own balcony. He’s wearing a thick white sweater and dark-rimmed glasses, and his hair resembles something like a bird’s nest atop his head. Yixing smiles.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Yixing says.
Wu Fan shakes his head. “I was still awake. Working.”
“At this hour?”
“Says the guys playing his guitar out on the balcony.”
Yixing’s smile widens. “Touche,” he says and Wu Fan’s laugh sounds so very nice in the still, silent night.
Yixing turns away and closes his eyes again, focuses on the stream of darkness and color behind his eyelids. He starts playing again, quietly, fingers pulling at the strings and shifting into chord after chord after chord.
"You're really good," he hears Wu Fan say, and he smiles, sliding into a major C chord, and up to an E.
Yixing just laughs. "If you say so," he replies, because Yixing isn't even playing something tangible, just putting his feelings and thoughts into light notes and chords. Things about tea at three AM and the sweet chill of mint ice cream and blue scarves.
"I do," Wu Fan replies softly and that's a bit like music to Yixing ears.
It snows over the weekend, light and glittery and coating the ground in cascades of white. Lu Han calls Yixing in the afternoon when he's trying to decide what new piano piece to give to his student the next morning and yells at him to come out because he's got Minseok and Zitao and they're going to play soccer at the empty park near his house.
"Bring Wu Fan along, too!" Lu Han says and hangs up before Yixing even gets a word in. He laughs, and shoves his phone into his pocket, goes to quickly grab his coat and scarf, tugging on black boots before he knocks on Wu Fan's door.
Wu Fan answers with a smile that slowly grows nervous as he takes in Yixing's delighted expression.
"Are you busy right now?" he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"No...why?" Wu Fan asks and Yixing grins.
"Better go grab your coat, it’s cold outside!" Yixing says.
As they head down the streets, after Yixing had successfully coaxed Wu Fan into a coat and wrapped his blue scarf around his neck, Wu Fan says, "You've got to be kidding. Who plays soccer in the snow?"
"It's just fun!" Yixing says. "And besides it’s nice to be out when its snowing. It's so very pretty." He stretches his arms out, tilting his head up toward the grey sky, and his footing catches on a patch of ice along the street. But just before he thinks he’s going to hit the pavement, there's a warm arm spinning around his waist and pulling him back into an even warmer body.
"Careful," Wu Fan breathes into his ear, and Yixing suddenly feels hot all over, like he could melt the snow if he laid in it right now.
"Thanks," he says and quickly steps away, willing his heartrate to dwindle down. He rubs his hands together and shoves them into his pockets and smiles.
Lu Han and Minseok are already playing when they make it to the park, fluffs of powdery snow flying in the air as they kick the ball around. Yixing sees Zitao with Jongin and Sehun by a bench, watching and cheering them on, and Jongin waves when he sees Yixing and Wu Fan, and the smirk that crosses makes Yixing roll his eyes.
“So are you actually going to introduce us to your friend this time?” Jongin asks when they approach. “Or are you going to keep him all to yourself?”
“Well, if he doesn’t mind, maybe I will,” Yixing replies with a laugh, glancing up at Wu Fan who looks amused.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Wu Fan says, almost so quietly that it takes a moment for Yixing to realize what he’s said, and when he does, his eyes widen and his heart misses a beat. But then Wu Fan is laughing, too, and introduces himself to the others, Lu Han and Minseok finally joining them as well.
“It’d be so much better if we had a few more people,” Lu Han laments, kicking the ball between his feet and then passing to Yixing, who barely even notices the ball rolling against his feet. Wu Fan laughs at his side and kicks it back for him. “We’d have nice even teams then. I called Kyungsoo earlier and he said he’d be here after his shift at the shop let up.”
“Does that really matter?” Jongin complains, and Lu Han kicks the ball upward toward his head, grinning snidely when Jongin falls into Minseok as he ducks away.
“Yes!” he exclaims and Yixing shakes his head, lips twitching in amusement, and turns to Wu Fan when he speaks up suddenly, “Actually I have a friend or two that might be interested. I can call them?”
Lu Han nods enthusiastically so Wu Fan steps aside, digging his phone from his pocket to call, and Yixing’s eyes follow him, staring at his back as he talks. Lu Han bumps against his shoulder and the look on his face is highly suggestive, and Yixing’s known Lu Han long enough to know exactly what’s going through his mind right now. He bumps him back and says, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“He’s nice,” Lu Han comments unnecessarily. “You guys look good together.”
“Shut up, it’s not like that,” Yixing says and is thankful that he can blame the flush in his cheeks to the cold. Lu Han just continues to give him an shit-eating grin and Yixing pokes him in the side, making Lu Han yelp and fight back.
Yixing laughs as he tries to flee from Lu Han’s antics, and suddenly finds himself bumping back into something - or someone, he realizes, as a familiar touch holds him steady at the waist. He looks up at Wu Fan who stares at him with bright eyes, and Yixing clears his throat and moves away. He ignores Lu Han’s smug look and asks, “So?”
“They’ll be here in a bit,” Wu Fan says and Lu Han cheers loudly, pumping a fist in the air. He turns and grabs Minseok by the elbow, ball tucked under his arm, and drags him off to play again. Zitao pulls Sehun with him to join them, while Jongin looks on from the bench, lounging back and yawning as he tugs his beanie cap down a little further over his ears.
It doesn't take very long for Wu Fan's friends to arrive, and Yixing recognizes one of the four from a photo in Wu Fan's apartment, tall like Wu Fan with a really bright smile. The other three are much smaller, looking around with curious eyes and tiny smiles. One of them has on a bright green hat, much like the pink one Yixing saw Zitao wearing, before he’d pushed it down onto Sehun’s head instead.
“These are a few friends, and colleagues, of mine,” Wu Fan says, introducing the tall one as Chanyeol, and the one in the green hat as Jongdae. Baekhyun and Junmyeon make up the other two, the former grinning widely while Junmyeon gives Yixing a kind smile before they both amble off to where Lu Han is chasing Sehun and Zitao around, the two of them tossing the soccer ball back and forth around him.
“Thanks for coming,” Yixing says, and adds, ”I’m Wu Fan’s neighbor Yixing--”
“Oh!” Chanyeol and Jongdae exclaim simultaneously, staring at him with mouths open and realization filling their eyes. Yixing blinks, slightly uncomfortable, and Chanyeol continues, “You’re Yixing! You’re the one Wu Fan never shuts up about!”
“Um,” Yixing says, eyes sliding askance to Wu Fan who is rubbing the back of his neck and staring resolutely at his shoes. Yixing slowly smirks and turns back to his friends. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Jongdae replies, and he’s giving Yixing a slow once over like he’s assessing him and trying to make sense of why Wu Fan constantly talks about him. “It’s kinda annoying, really.”
“You should’ve seen him when we were in Busan for work the other week,” Chanyeol says excitedly, and he ignores the way Wu Fan elbows him to make him stop. “He just kept looking at his phone to see if you’d messaged him like all the time.”
Something in Yixing’s stomach flutters at that, and he looks up at Wu Fan who is still not looking at him, instead muttering death threats to his friends. “Well,” Yixing says softly, scratching the side of his face. “I may have done the same thing.”
That makes Wu Fan look at him, eyes wide in surprise, but Yixing just smiles a little wider before turning away. “Come on,” he says. “We’re here to play, right?”
“Right!” Lu Han shouts from the field, waving at them to join, and Sehun goes to pull Jongin up from the bench, wrapping an arm around his waist and whispering in his ear.
They split up into two teams of five and six, Lu Han and Minseok the captains as they play much more regularly than anyone else, and even under their direction it’s more like a group of boys running around in the snow than really a game of soccer. Yixing has a good time anyway, chasing after Wu Fan who’s on Minseok’s team, and stealing the ball out from his feet almost every time.
“You’ve got to stop that,” Wu Fan complains, frustrated, but he’s laughing big and bright, and it makes Yixing’s heart flutter.
“It’s not my fault you can’t play,” Yixing retorts, and runs to the side, laughing as he dodges Jongdae and Zitao and tries to get free so Jongin can pass him the ball. He does in the next second, the ball rolling to Yixing's feet, and he’s about to kick toward Lu Han who is frantically waving his arms in the air and fending off Sehun. But Wu Fan is there before Yixing can pass, tall frame successfully blocking Yixing’s path, and Yixing furrows his brows up at him while Wu Fan just looks amused.
“Just knock him over!” Jongdae says from the side, and Wu Fan turns to him and shouts, “Hey, who’s team are you on?”
Yixing uses his distraction to shove past Wu Fan, just quick enough to kick the ball away before Wu Fan throws a leg out to stop him, but in the process Yixing trips, colliding right into Wu Fan and sending them both to the snowy ground. Yixing groans, Wu Fan’s weight atop him crushing his elbow into his side, while the wet snow slinks up his back where his jacket has bunched up. He peers his eyes open and it’s like his heart has stopped in his chest, eyes finding Wu Fan’s instantly, just mere inches from his face, so close that Yixing thinks he could count his eyelashes. Heat blossoms in his cheeks, Wu Fan staring down at him unfathomably, and his gaze flickers down to Yixing’s mouth and suddenly it’s like reality has slammed back into him, and Wu Fan moves away quickly, scrambling up to his feet.
“Man, when I said to knock him over I didn’t really mean it,” Jongdae says, appearing beside Wu Fan and looking between the two of them with a large, amused grin. He holds a hand out for Yixing who takes it and stands, brushes snow off his coat.
“Sorry,” Yixing says to Wu Fan, who won’t quite meet him in the eye. “Are you okay?”
“Wu Fan should apologize for crushing you with his giant body,” Chanyeol says as he joins them and he’s got snow all over his hair like he just landed head first into a pile of it, but he seems unconcerned. He laughs when Wu Fan glowers at him, but then Wu Fan turns to Yixing and says, finally meeting Yixing’s eyes, “I’m fine. Are you?”
Yixing nods cheerfully. “Just cold,” he chuckles, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them for warmth.
“That’s because you never wear gloves,” Wu Fan says, staring at his hands, and there’s a look in his eyes there as he reaches out for Yixing’s hand, only to quickly pull it back and push it into his pocket, and it’s like maybe he wanted to reach out and take Yixing’s hands in his and warm them up himself, but he doesn’t do anything of the sort and Yixing isn’t sure if it’s disappointment that coils around deep in his belly.
He just smiles and puts his hands into his pockets. “I never remember to buy them,” he says and Wu Fan just shakes his head, and the smile he gives Yixing then is soft and fond and, despite the cold, Yixing feels warm all over.
part two
Pairing: Yixing/Wu Fan, teeny tiny Jongin/Zitao/Sehun
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Summary: AU. Yixing doesn’t expect his new neighbor to be the same man who had stopped by the ice cream shop the night before, the man with the big gummy smile that still lingers bright in his mind.
Author’s Note: 15,255 words. This is for the ice cream square on fluff_bingo...or, well, it started out that way and morphed into this...thing idk. I just wanted to write some cute and fluffy Christmas-y fic!! Idk if this lives up to it, but this is my holiday gift to all of you. :3 I hope you enjoy!! (The random ice cream flavor names I stole from Ben & Jerry’s. >_>)
The small ice cream parlor rarely gets traffic late at night when the chill of the winter settles into the air, but Yixing doesn’t mind the dullness, wiping down counters and and tables and singing along to the music that plays from the speakers overhead. His coworker and friend, Jongin, complains about it though, so much that Yixing just laughs and pushes him out of the door, says he’ll cover for him if their manager asks.
“I owe you one,” Jongin says, pulling a furry cap over his head and slinging a backpack over his shoulders. He’s been working on calculus problems in-between serving out cups of Bohemian Raspberry and chocolate-peanut butter swirl on waffle cones.
“Don’t worry about it,” Yixing says, waving him off, and Jongin grins as he heads out the door. He waves to Yixing through the window as he passes by, and then he’s gone, and Yixing is left alone in an empty shop with only the cheerful drones of Girl’s Generation’s Gee playing in the background.
He heads to the back closet to grab a broom when he hears the door open, thinking it’s just probably Jongin having forgotten his cell phone again, laughs as he walks out and says, “What did you leave behind this--Oh, hi!” He feels a slight blush rise high in his cheeks at the newcomer, a tall, blonde-haired man who looks a little out of place, glancing around the shop like he’s never been to an ice cream store before.
His gaze falls onto Yixing, who quickly rests the broom in his hand against the nearest wall and walks up behind the counter. “Hello,” he says jovially, “what can I get you tonight?”
The man blinks at him, seemingly offput by the brightness of Yixing’s voice, and then glances up at the menu boards behind Yixing’s head. He stares for a long moment, and Yixing taps his fingers along the countertop, says, “It’s okay, take your time,” and the man looks sharply back down at Yixing like he’d just insulted him. But then he laughs, and it’s a big, gummy, sort of embarrassed sound, and he hides his mouth behind a large hand, and Yixing realizes he’s probably much younger than he looks, dressed in a dark suit that’s slightly wrinkled around the sides, the buttons on his white shirt undone at the top.
“Sorry,” the man says in a low voice, “I’ve just never been here before.”
Yixing smiles. “Why didn’t you say so?” he questions. “I can tell you everything here that’s worth trying.”
The man gives him a curious look, but then nods. “Please do,” he says and his smile is soft and makes Yixing’s heart shudder inexplicably.
Yixing waves him over to the left where they’ve got around ten tubs of ice cream set out, a few of them now down to their last few scoops after a long day. “I’m fond of the Red Velvet Cake, though our new one, Chocolate Therapy, is really great, too.” He grabs one of the small testing spoons and dips it into the chocolate tub, holds it out for the customer, who looks at it for a moment before trying it out.
He grins around the spoon and nods. “I like it,” he replies. “What else have you got?”
Yixing offers him scoops of a few other flavors, laughing at the faces the man makes as he tests them. In the end Yixing gets him a pint of Chocolate Therapy, and another of Boston Cream Pie and rings them up, sliding the pints into a small brown bag and exchanging it for the cash he hands over.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Yixing says, handing over his change with a smile.
“Thanks for your help,” the man says and he lifts a hand up in a wave as he walks out the door, and Yixing stares after him long after he’s disappeared from view.
And later, after he’s had a few more stragglers stop by for a quick ice cream fix before the night ends, and he’s cleaned up and locked up, wrapping a thick red scarf around his neck and heading home, Yixing can’t quite shake the memory of the man with that big smile out of his head.
The apartment next to Yixing’s on the third floor of his building has been vacant for over a month, but the next morning Yixing wakes to the sounds of someone walking in and out of the door, and a slight hammering against the wall, like someone is putting up a picture frame.
The last tenant had been an elderly woman who would invite Yixing over for tea and snacks Saturday afternoons when he returned from a morning shift at the ice cream shop. She was soft and kind and told him stories about her grandchildren and Yixing would sometimes talk to her for hours. She reminded him of his grandmother in Changsha, whom he hasn’t seen in a few years, and so when she passed away, Yixing felt as though a little piece of him had gone with her.
He’s happy to learn that there seems to be someone new moving in, because Yixing likes people and he likes meeting new people, so he drags himself out of bed to shower and dress, and maybe stop by to say hi before heading off to work.
He doesn’t expect his new neighbor to be the man he saw the night before, whose smiling face hadn’t quite yet escaped his mind, to be the one to answer the door.
“Wow,” he says, blinking in surprise. “It really is a small world.”
The man stares at him for a long, long moment, and then Yixing sees the realization fill his eyes. “You’re from the ice cream place,” he says slowly.
Yixing nods. “I’m also your neighbor,” he says and smiles brightly. “Zhang Yixing, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Thanks, have a good day!” Yixing says, handing over a small cup of Cherry Mania to a young schoolgirl who takes it one handed, her eyes glued to the screen of her phone. Yixing shakes his head as she walks away, turns away to clean up the mess of toppings Jongin had made earlier in his haste to get cones for three screaming kids and their frazzled looking mother.
“Hi,” a familiar voice says, before Yixing can get much done, and he looks up in surprise to find the man he’d met the night before, his new neighbor, standing on the other side of the counter a nervous smile on his face.
“Wu Fan,” Yixing says, remembering the name the man had told him that morning easily. “You...You actually came by.” He’d told Wu Fan to stop by the shop that day if he had the time, but now he’s having trouble wondering why he even did such a thing.
“You said I could,” Wu Fan replies simply, shrugs, and he fiddles with the neck of his tie. He’s wearing a suit like he did last night, and he’s holding a sleek black briefcase in his right hand.
“Did you just get off work?” Yixing asks, and Wu Fan nods. Yixing glances at the watch on his wrist, and smiles at Wu Fan, reaching around his back to untie the knots of the work apron they make him wear. “Hey, Jongin, I’m taking my break,” he says as he passes Jongin by, patting him on the shoulder, and Jongin glances over at Wu Fan and then back at Yixing who pretends not to notice the smirk that’s tugging at the side of his lips.
Yixing leads Wu Fan to a table by the window. “I wasn’t really expecting you to show up,” Yixing says, chuckling.
“I don’t really know many people here,” Wu Fan admits, runs a hand through his blonde hair. The roots are showing dark like he hasn’t dyed it in awhile. “I moved for work, so I’m still getting used to everything.”
“What do you do?” Yixing asks, curious, and he leans forward on his elbows upon the table between them.
Wu Fan looks a little taken aback but Yixing’s interest, but he relaxes after a moment and leans back against his chair. “I work in sales for a travel company,” he says. “I visit different hotels in the area and work with their marketing to help promote them through our company.” He smiles at Yixing’s spaced-out look. “It’s pretty boring stuff.”
Yixing shakes his head quickly. “No, that sounds really cool,” he says enthusiastically. “So you get to travel a lot?”
Wu Fan nods. “Yeah, when I’m lucky. I just came back from a week in Vancouver. Canada,” he adds when Yixing tilts his head to the side. “And then I find out they want me to move to Seoul to work at the Korea branch; our company is based in Beijing.” He sighs and slumps slightly in his seat, before quickly straightening back up and Yixing wonders if he’s always so straight-laced. “I had to pack up everything in a weekend, all on top of jetlag and lack of sleep.”
“That’s still so exciting,” Yixing says cheerfully. “Getting to go different places! I’d love to do that.”
Wu Fan chuckles. “Maybe I’ll take you with me next time,” he teases, but Yixing laughs, bounces up in his chair and points a finger at Wu Fan’s face.
“I’m holding you to that,” he replies seriously, and Wu Fan laughs the same kind of big laugh Yixing had seen the night before.
“I’m glad I met you,” Wu Fan says when his amusement has died down, but there’s still the shining mirth in his soft eyes, and Yixing beams.
There's hammering on the walls at three in the morning that wakes Yixing up with a headache. He rolls around in bed for awhile but can't fall back asleep and decides that if hes gonna get awake, then he might as well do something.
He doesn't exactly plan to make two steaming mugs of cinnamon tea and head next door, but somehow he's there on the doorstep looks up at a disheveled Wu Fan who blinks at him.
"I brought tea," Yixing says, and tucks under Wu Fan’s outstretched arm that holds the door open for him and into his apartment. There are boxes everywhere, most of them ripped open while the rest are still taped shut. A large leather couch sits against the wall, facing an entertainment console that’s missing its television and DVD player. The glass coffee table is stacked with travel books and magazines.
Yixing turns back to Wu Fan who is slowly closing the door, smiles at the way he’s got his hair tied back up in a lopsided ponytail. “Here,” he says, holding out a mug. “I figured if you were going to keep me awake by hammering on the walls, the least I could do was give you some tea.”
Wu Fan’s eyes grow a little wide, pausing with the rim of the mug against his lips. “I’m so sorry,” he says, “I was trying to keep it down, I really didn’t think you’d--”
“It’s okay,” Yixing says, brushing it off with a wave of his hand, and he laughs as the too-long sleeve of his oversized shirt flops over his fingers. He tugs his shirt back up and spins on his heel, walking further into the apartment. He sets his mug down on the coffee table and flops himself in front of an open box. “Do you want help?”
“I can’t make you do that, it’s three in the morning,” Wu Fan says, shaking his head.
“You’re awake.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Well, now I can’t, either, and wouldn’t unpacking be more fun with someone helping you out?” Yixing asks, smiling up at him.
Wu Fan stares at Yixing like he’s never seen anyone quite like him before in his life, but then chuckles, shaking his head. “I guess you’re right,” he says, and joins Yixing on the floor, pulling another opened box before his crossed legs. “This is really good,” he adds after a moment, sipping at his drink, and Yixing grins.
“You’re welcome,” he says cheekily, and Wu Fan laughs, gently nudging him in the ribs with his elbow, and Yixing laughs, too. He opens up the box in front of him and says, “So! Let’s see what kind of dirty secrets you have stashed away in these boxes.”
“Ah, so that’s why you wanted to help unpack,” Wu Fan says, and there’s amusement bright in his eyes. “The truth comes out.”
Yixing pulls a small 5 x 7” picture frame from the box, filled with an image of Wu Fan who is unmistakable with his blonde hair, and another tall boy with a silly looking smile and dyed orange hair. He sets it up onto the coffee table beside his mug. “It’s my right to know if my new neighbor is a serial killer or not.”
Wu Fan makes a small noise in the back of his throat and takes another drink of his tea, and he looks at Yixing a little contemplatively. “Don’t worry,” he says finally. “I won’t murder you after you brought me tea.”
“Oh, good,” Yixing replies, and he taps his own mug against Wu Fan’s with a smile before bringing it up to his lips.
“Hey,” Wu Fan says, standing just outside Yixing’s door. “I ran out of eggs, I was wondering if maybe you had one I could take?”
Yixing laughs, holds open his door and lets Wu Fan into the apartment. “Sure,” he says. “Were you making something?”
“French toast,” Wu Fan replies, and he stands awkwardly in the doorway as Yixing pads back into the apartment. He stops and blinks at Wu Fan, laughs again and waves him inside. Wu Fan gives a small smile and slips out of his shoes to follow Yixing into the kitchen. “I hope I wasn’t bothering you.”
“Not at all,” Yixing says. “I was just practicing.”
Wu Fan stops at the counter, leaning against it as Yixing rifles through the fridge for eggs. “Practicing?”
“Guitar,” Yixing says, pulling back triumphantly with an egg in hand. He hands it over to Wu Fan, ignores the slight tingling feeling that runs up his veins when their fingers touch. He points to the couch where he’s left his acoustic guitar, and Wu Fan glances at it for a moment before turning back.
“I didn’t know you played.”
“You don’t know a lot about me,” Yixing says, smiling wide. “Yet.”
Wu Fan smiles back. “Were you working on something in particular?”
Yixing leans against the counter beside Wu Fan, his arm brushing up against Wu Fan’s left, and from here, looking up at him, Wu Fan is so very tall. “I give guitar and piano lessons to kids during the week, whenever I'm not at the ice cream shop," Yixing says. "One of my kids cancelled tonight so I was working on a song I've been writing lately."
"That’s...that's really cool," Wu Fan says, looking at Yixing in curious interest. "I guess I always just figured you-"
"Worked at the ice cream shop?" Yixing says, shakes his head with a chuckle. "I love that place but it's not exactly the best job in the world."
Wu Fan nods, and there’s a bit of understanding in his eyes. Yixing wonders if maybe Wu Fan’s job is much the same, but he doesn’t dare ask, not yet. "You should let me hear it sometime...the song you're writing," Wu Fan says, suddenly, and he ducks his head a bit in embarrassment as if he only just realized what he said. "I mean, if you want or--"
"When I finish it, maybe I will," Yixing says with a smirk. "If you treat me to French toast sometime in return.”
"It's a deal,” Wu Fan says with a laugh that rings in Yixing’s ears long after he’s left.
“Oh, no, look what the cat dragged in,” Yixing says, grinning widely as his friends Lu Han, Zitao and Minseok walk into the shop, shaking wet snow-drizzled hair from their faces and rubbing hands together to warm them up.
“Very funny,” Lu Han says, swatting at Yixing over the counter with the end of his giant multi-colored scarf, and Yixing ducks backward with a laugh while Minseok rolls his eyes at the two of them, perpetually used to their antics. There’s a tall boy Yixing’s never met before standing close to Zitao, looking around the place curiously, and he lights up when Jongin appears beside Yixing, waving at everyone.
“Hey guys,” he says, and introduces the new face to Yixing as Sehun, a friend who’s in a few classes with him and Zitao.
“So was it Lu Han’s brilliant idea to come to an ice cream shop in the middle of a blizzard?” Yixing asks. It’s been an incredibly slow day, and Yixing’s spent most of his shift singing to songs loudly on the radio with Jongin who came over an hour ago after his evening class ended.
“No, it was Jongin’s,” Lu Han says, and there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, and Yixing catches the way Jongin seems to be pleading with him to not spill a secret. Yixing blinks at them, and Lu Han continues, “He said if we stopped by around this time we’d see something interesting.”
Yixing furrows his brows, looks at Jongin who is glaring at Lu Han. “See what?”
“Your boyfriend,” Zitao says, amused. “Jongin says he comes by everyday around this time.”
“But I don’t have a boyfriend?” Yixing says, confused, and Jongin finally stops glaring at Lu Han to give Yixing an incredulous look.
“Hello? The tall, blonde guy that comes by everyday when he’s off of work to come get you so you can walk home together?” Jongin says slowly like Yixing is an idiot, and Yixing stares at him for a few long moments before opening his mouth in an, “Oh.”
Then he laughs. “Wu Fan is not my boyfriend. He’s my new neighbor.” All of his friends give Yixing a skeptical look. Even Sehun, whom Yixing doesn't even know yet, looks disbelievingly at him. “I’m serious!” he insists. “We’re just neighbors. I don’t even know if we’re really friends.”
“Stop lying,” Jongin says, bumping his shoulder against Yixing’s. “You talk about him all the time, and he comes to pick you up everyday!”
“He walks by here anyway to get home!”
“Excuses,” Minseok says, and Yixing shakes his head.
“You guys are making a big deal out of nothing,” he says. He mock-glares at his friends and points a finger around at all of them. “Now order something or I’m obligated to kick you out. Only paying customers can hide in here.”
“There’s no rule like that,” Lu Han protests, but gives up as Zitao and Sehun cut before him and give Jongin their orders. He sighs and says to Yixing, “Just get me my favorite.”
“Sure,” Yixing says with a smile, then turns to Minseok. “What about you?”
It’s that slow of an evening that after Yixing and Jongin get everyone their orders, they join them by pulling two tables together by the window. Yixing hasn’t seen them in awhile; Lu Han busy with his evening language classes and his job at the music store two blocks over, Minseok with long work hours at his stuffy office, and Zitao with school, and they end up chatting about everything and anything they’ve missed lately, all while Jongin and Lu Han toss in questions about Wu Fan that Yixing easily dodges with a pleasant smile.
The thing is that Jongin is right, and Wu Fan does stop by the shop after work almost everyday so the two of them can head home together. It wasn’t really anything they planned, but just happened to do once the week before and then slowly became routine. Yixing likes it, though, because well, he likes Wu Fan, who is kind and intriguing. But it isn’t anything more than that.
Of course when Wu Fan does show up ten minutes before Yixing’s shift ends like he usually does, Jongin nudges Lu Han hard in the ribs and nods toward the door, and the rest of them all fail at discreetly looking over curiously. Wu Fan scans the shop before he seems to notice Yixing sitting at a table, and Jongin and Lu Han quickly look away, turning to each other to mutter something and Yixing sighs and rolls his eyes.
“Could you two be anymore obvious?” he whispers as he stands and waves to Wu Fan who walks over curiously.
“Working hard, I see,” Wu Fan comments with a smile, glancing over at Yixing’s friends.
“Ignore them, they’re nobody,” Yixing replies and snickers at Lu Han’s outraged yelp, which turns into an aching moan as Minseok kicks him under the table.
"If you say so," Wu Fan says, looking mighty amused, and Yixing nods enthusiastically, taking Wu Fan's wrist and steering him away.
"I really do," he says. "Let me get my things and we can go." He turns back to the table, pretends not to notice the way everyone drops their gazes, and asks, "Jongin, you can lock up tonight, right?"
"Yeah, sure, no problem," he says, waves a hand in the air lightly.
"Thanks," Yixing says, and he stops in the back room to grab his coat, wrapping his scarf around his neck and waving goodbye to the others before leading the way out, Wu Fan following after.
They settle into a slow comfortable walk side by side, and Yixing shoves his hands into his pockets to hide from the cold, wishing he would remember to buy himself some gloves.
"Were those your friends?" Wu Fan asks after a long stretch of easy silence, the only sounds belonging to the cars driving past, tires slushing against wet snow.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Yixing replies, and then laughs. “No, I mean, they’re great, but occasionally a little obnoxious.”
Wu Fan nods knowingly. “I understand,” he says.
“Next time I’ll introduce you,” Yixing says brightly. “If I did today, they might’ve scared you away.”
“I doubt that,” Wu Fan says with a snort. “Nothing scares me.”
Yixing hums in amusement, bumps into Wu Fan’s side and laughs as Wu Fan almost trips over his own feet and into the street. He grabs his hand and yanks him back quickly, and Wu Fan’s eyes are big in surprise. “I bet you were just scared of that.”
“Because you almost killed me,” Wu Fan retorts, but then he’s smiling, and Yixing’s hand feels so very warm in Wu Fan’s, and he doesn’t want to pull away.
He does, though, with a laugh, and shoves his hand back into his pocket. The rest of the way back to their apartment is spent quietly, but Yixing doesn’t mind, and he’s glad that Wu Fan doesn’t find it necessary to fill space with conversation. They haven’t known each other for very long yet, but Yixing really likes that about Wu Fan, likes how easily the two of them seem to fall together.
“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yixing says when they make it up to their floor. He twirls his keyring around a finger and quickly catches it when it almost drops to the floor.
“Actually, I’m traveling again for the next few days, going to Busan to work with some properties down there,” Wu Fan says, scratches the back of his neck.
“In that case, nevermind," Yixing says with a laugh, but suddenly stops as a thought occurs to him. "Your phone. Can I see?"
Perplexed, Wu Fan nods and pulls it out from his pocket, sets it onto Yixing's open palm. Yixing smiles and quickly programs his number in. He calls his own phone and saves Wu Fan's information into his contacts list, and hands Wu Fan’s phone back.
"There. So in case you miss me, you can call."
"Who said I would miss you?" Wu Fab questions, but he's staring down at Yixing's number with a tiny smile sneaking onto his face and Yixing pats his shoulder.
"You will," he says, and turns to head into his apartment.
Miss me yet, Yixing sends to Wu Fan the next afternoon as he finishes up a guitar lesson and heads off to the next one for the day.
I think you’re the one who misses me.
Yixing doesn’t see his reply until he’s back home in the evening, checking through emails and missed calls. He smiles at the message, and sends back, Never. :P, and tries not to think about how he's pretty sure that's a lie.
And as the days go on, Yixing thinks he may have gotten a little too used to Wu Fan's presence that suddenly the days when he's gone seem dull in comparison. He knows Wu Fan is working so Yixing tries not to message him too often, but he keeps his phone close by in case Wu Fan writes him.
He's working a night shift on a lonely Saturday when Wu Fan walks into the shop, hands tucked into the front pockets of his thick black coat, half of his face obscured by a blue scarf.
"Hi," Wu Fan says, pulling down his scarf enough to speak.
"You're back!" Yixing says and he fights down the flush that tries to fill his cheeks, hopes Wu Fan doesn't sense his happiness, and ignores the tiny voice in his head that questions why he's so happy in the first place.
Wu Fan just smiles, and it's the kind that Yixing has really grown to like, the one that seems the most completely Wu Fan, lighting up his eyes and making Yixing's heart glow in warmth.
"See," Wu Fan says, "I knew you missed me."
When Yixing can’t sleep some nights, he sits out on the small balcony and strums his guitar. It’s cold out at one in the morning, but he wraps his red scarf around his neck and throws on a sweater, and curls up on the floor, resting back against the sliding glass door. He’s quiet, mostly plucking aimlessly at the strings, eyes close as he whispers words of a nameless song under his breath, and lets his mind wander to its fullest.
He doesn’t realize he’s even being watched until he finishes playing out the chords in his head, and his fingers fall lax against the strings, and a familiar voice cuts through the crisp winter air.
“That was really nice,” Wu Fan says, and Yixing turns to find him standing out on his own balcony. He’s wearing a thick white sweater and dark-rimmed glasses, and his hair resembles something like a bird’s nest atop his head. Yixing smiles.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Yixing says.
Wu Fan shakes his head. “I was still awake. Working.”
“At this hour?”
“Says the guys playing his guitar out on the balcony.”
Yixing’s smile widens. “Touche,” he says and Wu Fan’s laugh sounds so very nice in the still, silent night.
Yixing turns away and closes his eyes again, focuses on the stream of darkness and color behind his eyelids. He starts playing again, quietly, fingers pulling at the strings and shifting into chord after chord after chord.
"You're really good," he hears Wu Fan say, and he smiles, sliding into a major C chord, and up to an E.
Yixing just laughs. "If you say so," he replies, because Yixing isn't even playing something tangible, just putting his feelings and thoughts into light notes and chords. Things about tea at three AM and the sweet chill of mint ice cream and blue scarves.
"I do," Wu Fan replies softly and that's a bit like music to Yixing ears.
It snows over the weekend, light and glittery and coating the ground in cascades of white. Lu Han calls Yixing in the afternoon when he's trying to decide what new piano piece to give to his student the next morning and yells at him to come out because he's got Minseok and Zitao and they're going to play soccer at the empty park near his house.
"Bring Wu Fan along, too!" Lu Han says and hangs up before Yixing even gets a word in. He laughs, and shoves his phone into his pocket, goes to quickly grab his coat and scarf, tugging on black boots before he knocks on Wu Fan's door.
Wu Fan answers with a smile that slowly grows nervous as he takes in Yixing's delighted expression.
"Are you busy right now?" he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"No...why?" Wu Fan asks and Yixing grins.
"Better go grab your coat, it’s cold outside!" Yixing says.
As they head down the streets, after Yixing had successfully coaxed Wu Fan into a coat and wrapped his blue scarf around his neck, Wu Fan says, "You've got to be kidding. Who plays soccer in the snow?"
"It's just fun!" Yixing says. "And besides it’s nice to be out when its snowing. It's so very pretty." He stretches his arms out, tilting his head up toward the grey sky, and his footing catches on a patch of ice along the street. But just before he thinks he’s going to hit the pavement, there's a warm arm spinning around his waist and pulling him back into an even warmer body.
"Careful," Wu Fan breathes into his ear, and Yixing suddenly feels hot all over, like he could melt the snow if he laid in it right now.
"Thanks," he says and quickly steps away, willing his heartrate to dwindle down. He rubs his hands together and shoves them into his pockets and smiles.
Lu Han and Minseok are already playing when they make it to the park, fluffs of powdery snow flying in the air as they kick the ball around. Yixing sees Zitao with Jongin and Sehun by a bench, watching and cheering them on, and Jongin waves when he sees Yixing and Wu Fan, and the smirk that crosses makes Yixing roll his eyes.
“So are you actually going to introduce us to your friend this time?” Jongin asks when they approach. “Or are you going to keep him all to yourself?”
“Well, if he doesn’t mind, maybe I will,” Yixing replies with a laugh, glancing up at Wu Fan who looks amused.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Wu Fan says, almost so quietly that it takes a moment for Yixing to realize what he’s said, and when he does, his eyes widen and his heart misses a beat. But then Wu Fan is laughing, too, and introduces himself to the others, Lu Han and Minseok finally joining them as well.
“It’d be so much better if we had a few more people,” Lu Han laments, kicking the ball between his feet and then passing to Yixing, who barely even notices the ball rolling against his feet. Wu Fan laughs at his side and kicks it back for him. “We’d have nice even teams then. I called Kyungsoo earlier and he said he’d be here after his shift at the shop let up.”
“Does that really matter?” Jongin complains, and Lu Han kicks the ball upward toward his head, grinning snidely when Jongin falls into Minseok as he ducks away.
“Yes!” he exclaims and Yixing shakes his head, lips twitching in amusement, and turns to Wu Fan when he speaks up suddenly, “Actually I have a friend or two that might be interested. I can call them?”
Lu Han nods enthusiastically so Wu Fan steps aside, digging his phone from his pocket to call, and Yixing’s eyes follow him, staring at his back as he talks. Lu Han bumps against his shoulder and the look on his face is highly suggestive, and Yixing’s known Lu Han long enough to know exactly what’s going through his mind right now. He bumps him back and says, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“He’s nice,” Lu Han comments unnecessarily. “You guys look good together.”
“Shut up, it’s not like that,” Yixing says and is thankful that he can blame the flush in his cheeks to the cold. Lu Han just continues to give him an shit-eating grin and Yixing pokes him in the side, making Lu Han yelp and fight back.
Yixing laughs as he tries to flee from Lu Han’s antics, and suddenly finds himself bumping back into something - or someone, he realizes, as a familiar touch holds him steady at the waist. He looks up at Wu Fan who stares at him with bright eyes, and Yixing clears his throat and moves away. He ignores Lu Han’s smug look and asks, “So?”
“They’ll be here in a bit,” Wu Fan says and Lu Han cheers loudly, pumping a fist in the air. He turns and grabs Minseok by the elbow, ball tucked under his arm, and drags him off to play again. Zitao pulls Sehun with him to join them, while Jongin looks on from the bench, lounging back and yawning as he tugs his beanie cap down a little further over his ears.
It doesn't take very long for Wu Fan's friends to arrive, and Yixing recognizes one of the four from a photo in Wu Fan's apartment, tall like Wu Fan with a really bright smile. The other three are much smaller, looking around with curious eyes and tiny smiles. One of them has on a bright green hat, much like the pink one Yixing saw Zitao wearing, before he’d pushed it down onto Sehun’s head instead.
“These are a few friends, and colleagues, of mine,” Wu Fan says, introducing the tall one as Chanyeol, and the one in the green hat as Jongdae. Baekhyun and Junmyeon make up the other two, the former grinning widely while Junmyeon gives Yixing a kind smile before they both amble off to where Lu Han is chasing Sehun and Zitao around, the two of them tossing the soccer ball back and forth around him.
“Thanks for coming,” Yixing says, and adds, ”I’m Wu Fan’s neighbor Yixing--”
“Oh!” Chanyeol and Jongdae exclaim simultaneously, staring at him with mouths open and realization filling their eyes. Yixing blinks, slightly uncomfortable, and Chanyeol continues, “You’re Yixing! You’re the one Wu Fan never shuts up about!”
“Um,” Yixing says, eyes sliding askance to Wu Fan who is rubbing the back of his neck and staring resolutely at his shoes. Yixing slowly smirks and turns back to his friends. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Jongdae replies, and he’s giving Yixing a slow once over like he’s assessing him and trying to make sense of why Wu Fan constantly talks about him. “It’s kinda annoying, really.”
“You should’ve seen him when we were in Busan for work the other week,” Chanyeol says excitedly, and he ignores the way Wu Fan elbows him to make him stop. “He just kept looking at his phone to see if you’d messaged him like all the time.”
Something in Yixing’s stomach flutters at that, and he looks up at Wu Fan who is still not looking at him, instead muttering death threats to his friends. “Well,” Yixing says softly, scratching the side of his face. “I may have done the same thing.”
That makes Wu Fan look at him, eyes wide in surprise, but Yixing just smiles a little wider before turning away. “Come on,” he says. “We’re here to play, right?”
“Right!” Lu Han shouts from the field, waving at them to join, and Sehun goes to pull Jongin up from the bench, wrapping an arm around his waist and whispering in his ear.
They split up into two teams of five and six, Lu Han and Minseok the captains as they play much more regularly than anyone else, and even under their direction it’s more like a group of boys running around in the snow than really a game of soccer. Yixing has a good time anyway, chasing after Wu Fan who’s on Minseok’s team, and stealing the ball out from his feet almost every time.
“You’ve got to stop that,” Wu Fan complains, frustrated, but he’s laughing big and bright, and it makes Yixing’s heart flutter.
“It’s not my fault you can’t play,” Yixing retorts, and runs to the side, laughing as he dodges Jongdae and Zitao and tries to get free so Jongin can pass him the ball. He does in the next second, the ball rolling to Yixing's feet, and he’s about to kick toward Lu Han who is frantically waving his arms in the air and fending off Sehun. But Wu Fan is there before Yixing can pass, tall frame successfully blocking Yixing’s path, and Yixing furrows his brows up at him while Wu Fan just looks amused.
“Just knock him over!” Jongdae says from the side, and Wu Fan turns to him and shouts, “Hey, who’s team are you on?”
Yixing uses his distraction to shove past Wu Fan, just quick enough to kick the ball away before Wu Fan throws a leg out to stop him, but in the process Yixing trips, colliding right into Wu Fan and sending them both to the snowy ground. Yixing groans, Wu Fan’s weight atop him crushing his elbow into his side, while the wet snow slinks up his back where his jacket has bunched up. He peers his eyes open and it’s like his heart has stopped in his chest, eyes finding Wu Fan’s instantly, just mere inches from his face, so close that Yixing thinks he could count his eyelashes. Heat blossoms in his cheeks, Wu Fan staring down at him unfathomably, and his gaze flickers down to Yixing’s mouth and suddenly it’s like reality has slammed back into him, and Wu Fan moves away quickly, scrambling up to his feet.
“Man, when I said to knock him over I didn’t really mean it,” Jongdae says, appearing beside Wu Fan and looking between the two of them with a large, amused grin. He holds a hand out for Yixing who takes it and stands, brushes snow off his coat.
“Sorry,” Yixing says to Wu Fan, who won’t quite meet him in the eye. “Are you okay?”
“Wu Fan should apologize for crushing you with his giant body,” Chanyeol says as he joins them and he’s got snow all over his hair like he just landed head first into a pile of it, but he seems unconcerned. He laughs when Wu Fan glowers at him, but then Wu Fan turns to Yixing and says, finally meeting Yixing’s eyes, “I’m fine. Are you?”
Yixing nods cheerfully. “Just cold,” he chuckles, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them for warmth.
“That’s because you never wear gloves,” Wu Fan says, staring at his hands, and there’s a look in his eyes there as he reaches out for Yixing’s hand, only to quickly pull it back and push it into his pocket, and it’s like maybe he wanted to reach out and take Yixing’s hands in his and warm them up himself, but he doesn’t do anything of the sort and Yixing isn’t sure if it’s disappointment that coils around deep in his belly.
He just smiles and puts his hands into his pockets. “I never remember to buy them,” he says and Wu Fan just shakes his head, and the smile he gives Yixing then is soft and fond and, despite the cold, Yixing feels warm all over.
part two