k-pop; melt you down 2/2

[tatoeba]

Wu Fan goes out of town for a whole week, back to Beijing for a “very important company meeting”, he explains to Yixing the night before, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know why they want me back there when they had me transferred here,” he says, looking irritated as he folds clothes into his travel bag and Yixing watches him from where he’s lying across Wu Fan’s large bed. He occasionally reaches in and unfolds shirts and sweaters, just to see the way it increasingly makes a vein in Wu Fan’s neck stand out, annoyance building up until he dumps his entire suitcase full of clothes atop Yixing’s head. Yixing just laughs and laughs, and Wu Fan stares at him for a long while before the tension in his face relaxes into amusement. He smiles back as Yixing helps him organize all his things again.

Just before Yixing leaves to let Wu Fan catch some rest before his early morning flight, Wu Fan stops him and says, “You don’t mind if I message you right?”

Yixing chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course not!” he replies, and suddenly remembers what Chanyeol had said the other day. “I’ll be sure to spam you with messages so you don’t have to check your phone all the time.”

Wu Fan groans, and a light blush dusts his cheeks and Yixing can’t help but find him really cute. “That reminds me I need to murder Chanyeol,” he mutters under his breath and seems to relax when Yixing laughs. He straightens his back and adds, “At least you’ll probably have something interesting to say. I don’t get a lot of messages from people, and Chanyeol only ever sends me pictures of his stupid face.”

“I’ll be sure to do the same, then,” Yixing says. “So you won’t miss me so much.”

“As if I would,” Wu Fan replies, but something in his eyes gives him away, and there’s this bubbling feeling in Yixing’s chest that he doesn’t know how to explain.

He just smiles, wishes Wu Fan a good trip, and returns to his own apartment, and in the quietness there, the rapid beating of his heart sounds so impossibly loud.



“You’ve been a moping mess for a whole week,” Lu Han says, “are you that upset because your boyfriend is out of town?”

“I’ve told you, he’s not my boyfriend,” Yixing replies monotonously. Between Lu Han and Jongin, both of whom seem to have decided that Wu Fan is, without a doubt, Yixing’s new life partner, and dutifully point it out nearly every hour, Yixing has gotten used to easily deflecting it. He’s not sure why he bothers, he should just let them think whatever they like. But the idea of Wu Fan being anything more than just Yixing’s neighbor - friend? - makes Yixing’s stomach flop around uneasily and so he tries not to think about it.

He leans back against the soft throw pillows on Lu Han’s couch, and takes a sip of the drink Lu Han had offered him after he’d nearly kidnapped Yixing from work and brought him back to his place, insisting that Yixing was going to hang out because he couldn’t mope around forever.

“Do you want him to be, though?” Lu Han asks. He’s sitting on the floor, hugging one of the frilly pillows to chest, legs crossed underneath him, and he looks up at Yixing expectantly, eyelashes fluttering like if he looks innocent enough Yixing will tell him that he’s been harboring a secret crush on Wu Fan for weeks.

Of course that’s definitely, definitely not true, and Yixing wills the heat that burns in his cheeks away just from the thought. “I thought you already decided he was,” Yixing points out, trying to steer the conversation away from him.

“You know I do that just to bug you,” Lu Han replies, and Yixing mock-glares, reaches out to poke Lu Han in the knee with a socked foot. Lu Han just laughs. “It’s okay if you like him, you know.”

Yixing rolls his eyes and pokes Lu Han again. “Obviously,” he says, like Lu Han is an idiot. “But that’s not how it is, and I don’t think either of us are interested.”

Lu Han hums thoughtfully around the rim of his coffee mug. “Too bad,” he says. “I like him.”

“Then you date him,” Yixing replies, but the second the words leave his mouth he wants to take them back because something about the idea of Lu Han dating Wu Fan - of Wu Fan dating anyone - settles unpleasantly into Yixing’s stomach like food poisoning.

Thankfully Lu Han just laughs and teases, “I think he’s more of your type anyway,” and when Yixing pokes him this time, he spills his coffee down his front and it’s enough of a distraction for Yixing to push away the strange thoughts and even stranger feelings.



Yixing finds that the uneasiness disappears when Wu Fan returns Sunday evening, stopping over at Yixing's apartment after he's dumped his things into his own. He tries not to think about how easily he's affected by Wu Fan's presence, because he's just glad he's back, curled up awkwardly with his too-big limbs on Yixing's small couch, black-framed glasses pushed up onto his nose. He talks to Yixing about the trip, the little boy in the plane he made friends with, about the long hours at the company, and about the familiarity of Beijing.

Yixing likes the soft, low sound of his voice and the big laughs he makes when Yixing tells him how Jongin and Zitao and Sehun had dragged him out for a snowball fight the other day, and how Baekhyun and Chanyeol had even come by the ice cream shop to say hi, and that Baekhyun had smacked Chanyeol on the head for stealing his phone that Chanyeol had accidentally shoved his ice cream cone into his nose.

"They're always like that," Wu Fan says.

"They're fun," Yixing says, having thought so when he'd met them during their impromptu soccer match, and was glad to see them again. "It'd be nice to hang out with them another time."

Wu Fan stares at him for a long, long moment, and Yixing looks back unblinkingly, tilting his head slightly in concern. Wu Fan laughs, then, and says, “When you stare like that, it’s really funny.” He sounds almost fond, and it makes Yixing’s heart warm.

He just shrugs in reply though, because Lu Han has told him this many times, but Yixing doesn’t really get what’s so funny about it. “Why were you staring at me?” he asks instead, and Wu Fan licks his lips, looking a little hesitant.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and says, “Well, actually, you can hang out with them again. Sort of. I mean, well,” he pauses, and scratches the side of his face. “Our company is having a Christmas party this weekend, and we’re all allowed to bring a guest with us if we want, and well, I still don’t know many people at this branch so I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” He looks at Yixing hopefully, and Yixing can tell he’s embarrassed, which makes him grin widely because even though he hasn’t known Wu Fan for very long yet, Wu Fan rarely ever seems to get embarrassed, running through life on too much confidence and sheer bravado.

Yixing laughs and teases, “Are you trying to ask me out?”

Wu Fan’s eyes widen for a moment but then the anxiety fades away and he scoffs. “Please,” he says, and Yixing just smiles.

“Why me?” he says. “You’ll have Chanyeol and Jongdae and the others there, won’t you? You don’t really need me to come, too.” He’s not sure why he’s bringing this up, because certainly Wu Fan knows that, and still decided to invite Yixing anyway, but the words just fall from his mouth before he thinks about them.

“That’s true,” Wu Fan agrees, “but I’d still like you to come, too. If you want, of course.”

Yixing wants, he really does, and the fact that Wu Fan had invited him makes his heart swell in his chest with irrepressible happiness he can’t quite explain. But he purses his lips thoughtfully and pretends to really think about it, dragging it on until Wu Fan looks torn between annoyed and rejected, and then says, “Sure, but you owe me. Stuffy business parties aren’t really my thing.”

Wu Fan chuckles and nods. “All right then,” he says, and Yixing beams.



"So what, it's like a date?" Jongin asks curiously, looking a little frightfully gleeful and Yixing regrets having told Jongin about Wu Fan's invitation at all. He hadn't planned to, really, but he also couldn't stop himself from thinking about it, so much so that Jongin had gotten fed up with Yixing spacing out and giving two different customers the wrong orders that he demanded Yixing tell him or he'd dump ice cream down his shirt.

"It's not a date," Yixing says simply, because it's not. And he tells himself he doesn't care that it isn't because he doesn't like Wu Fan like that, nope. "He just asked me to go with him, that's all." He shrugs, focuses on wiping down a table in the corner where a young boy had spilled Cotton Candy ice cream all over the surface.

"He asked you to a snotty company party," Jongin says. "He wasn't obligated but he did. And you said it was a black tie affair so, really, I don't know what you’re trying to say, it sounds like a date to me.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Yixing replies, smiling, and Jongin childishly sticks out his tongue at him from behind the counter where he’s switching out an empty bucket of ice cream for a new one. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a date anyway,” Yixing says, pushing the chairs around the table back in properly and sweeping up the floor in-between. “I’m happy he invited me at all.”

Jongin ooohs at him teasingly and Yixing pretends to throw a dirty balled up napkin at him. "It sounds like you like him," Jongin says.

"I know what it sounds like," Yixing says, sighing. "But that doesn't mean it's true."

Jongin groans. "Talking to you is impossible. I don't know how your boyfriend does it."

Yixing doesn't even refute it, simply smiling and trying not to think about how the constant reference of Wu Fan as his boyfriend is now so familiar that Yixing realizes the idea doesn’t exactly sounds all that bad.



Yixing has seen Wu Fan in a suit and tie before but the way the the tailored black fabric rests across his broad shoulders and the lean, long lines of his legs makes him look like someone who just walked straight out off the runway. His blonde hair is pushed up a bit from his forehead and he looks, well. He looks really, really good.

And Yixing, who usually doesn’t care much about how he dresses or what people think about it, feels inadequate standing before him in a suit that he hasn’t worn in years. But Wu Fan stares down at him, eyes intense as they slide up and down the length of his body makes him shiver.

“You look great,” he says, and that’s enough for Yixing.

He laughs and says, “You look better,” and is surprised by the flush that dusts Wu Fan’s cheeks.

Wu Fan coughs into his fist and asks, “Ready to go?” Yixing nods excitedly, and follows Wu Fan out to his car.

The drive is mostly quiet, but it’s comfortable, and Yixing likes that he can just sit there in a contented silence without feeling the need to fill it with small talk. It’s not something he can do with most people; Lu Han always chatters away and pokes fun at Yixing when he spaces out like he does a lot. Wu Fan doesn’t seem to mind at all, just turns up the volume on the radio and sings under his breath, and it makes Yixing smile as he stares out the window at the snow-covered streets and buildings they pass.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Wu Fan asks when they arrive, heading into the spacious restaurant event room that was booked for the party. There’s a decorated christmas tree in the corner and garlands lining the tables.

“Why would I be?” Yixing replies, staring around at the room full of people he doesn’t know, and he’s not really all that nervous, but he feels a little out of place already. Everyone there looks just like Wu Fan, straight-laced with stoic expressions and Yixing keeps close to Wu Fan’s side as they walk in and look for empty seats.

Yixing’s glad when a few minutes later, they run into Jongdae and Baekhyun, both grinning widely as they usher Yixing and Wu Fan to a table in the corner by the christmas tree. Baekhyun looks between the two of them and his eyes are gleeful as he says, “I didn’t know Wu Fan was bringing you!”

“Well, I wasn’t really going to come, but he begged, so,” Yixing replies, smiling back, and Wu Fan splutters around the glass of water he’s drinking.

“I didn’t beg,” he protests but neither Baekhyun or Jongdae seem to believe him. He stares down at Yixing and then back to his friends and presses fingers to his temple. “Somehow I’m starting to feel like this was a bad idea, introducing you all.”

Baekhyun cackles and Yixing pats Wu Fan’s arm gently, which makes Wu Fan jump a little and pull his arm back. Yixing blinks at him curiously but Wu Fan just shrugs it off, looking similarly flustered to when Yixing had told him he looked good earlier that evening. He tries not to think about it too much, turning back to Baekhyun who immediately engages him in conversation, and Yixing feels himself relax as he listens.

He’s easily distracted though, interested by all the people that stop by to talk to Wu Fan, who stands and bows and discusses work-related matters that Yixing doesn’t understand. Jongdae is in deep discussion with someone sitting beside him over a project he seems to be working on, and Baekhyun eventually slips away when he spots Chanyeol walking through the doors, heading over and nearly tackling him, the two of them laughing loudly over the christmas music that’s playing in the room.

Yixing feels unsettled again, crawling anxiously in his stomach, and he shifts awkwardly in his seat, wanting to just pull out his phone and maybe play a game on it, but he doesn’t want to be rude. There are other people in the room who Yixing can tell are probably wives or husbands or friends of employees, who all are quiet like Yixing but seem much more at ease. Maybe they’ve all been to something like this before, maybe they’re all used to it. Unlike Yixing, who hasn’t had the need to wear a suit in years, or been to anything remotely close to a company party in his life.

He’s wondering, now, why he even agreed to come, when a man he hasn’t met before seats himself across from him in Baekhyun’s vacated seat and looks at him with a smile. He introduces himself as Jung Yunho, and Yixing recognizes the name as belonging to Wu Fan’s boss. He smiles and nods politely and says, “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you from Wu Fan.”

“I hope it’s good things,” he says, and Yixing nods quickly. “Are you a friend of his?”

“Yes,” Yixing replies. “We’re neighbors.”

“I see,” Yunho replies, looking vaguely interested. He leans forward and rests his chin on his palm. “So, what is it that you do?”

Yixing blinks and that anxiety that he’d pushed away earlier comes back fiercely, gripping onto him relentlessly. He hadn’t really expected to answer such a question, hadn’t considered anyone would pay attention to him other than Wu Fan and his friends. He feels a little confronted, and uncertain, because where he works and what he does is completely sub par to all of this, this elite environment with people who travel and work with important clients all over the country.

Yixing feels heat in his face as he flounders, trying not to stare at Yunho’s expectant face, and he almost jumps when he feels a familiar warmth settle onto his knee. He looks at Wu Fan, who is turning toward them with a pleasant smile his face, but Yixing has gotten to know him well enough to notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His hand is warm on Yixing’s knee, and his thumb traces in circles along the inseam of his slacks and Yixing feels all the anxiety drain from his body.

“He’s a musician,” Wu Fan says easily, staring right at Yunho, and Yixing thinks he looks a little frightening, with his fake smile and hard eyes. “A really good one, actually. He teaches lessons.”

“I see,” Yunho says, slowly, like he’s struggling to process this information, and Yixing swallows thickly and needs to get away.

He bumps his knee against the table as he stands too quickly, and bows in apology, excusing himself to head out the doors. He needs to get away, he needs some air, anything, but he doesn’t get very far before a strong hand grabs his elbow and Wu Fan is whispering into his ear, “Come here.”

Yixing lets Wu Fan drag him off down a small hallway toward the restaurant restrooms, and Yixing presses himself back against the wall and sighs, shoulders slumping.

“What’s wrong?” Wu Fan asks, and his earlier expression has changed for full concern, his fingers pressing gently into Yixing’s elbow as he steps close and peers down at him.

Yixing can’t look at him, though, because this is embarrassing, and Yixing isn’t one to get easily embarrassed, but the whole situation is getting to him more than he could’ve thought possible and he’s not even sure he knows why. “Nothing, it’s stupid,” he says quietly, staring down at his shoes. Wu Fan’s standing so close that the tips of his polished black shoes are just centimeters from Yixing’s own.

He hopes that maybe Wu Fan will drop it, but he doesn’t, only stares at him more persistently, and Yixing takes a deep breath. “I just, when he asked me that question, I...I don’t know, I just realized how different this all is. How different we are, and I--”

“Okay, stop,” Wu Fan cuts in, “does it look like I care about that?”

Yixing knows that he doesn’t, shaking his head quickly and finally glancing up to meet Wu Fan’s honest gaze. “I know you don’t,” Yixing says and he reaches out to touch Wu Fan’s elbow the way Wu Fan is still holding onto his. “But I just wanted to make a good impression.”

“I don’t care about that, either,” Wu Fan says. “You could’ve worn those awful maroon jeans of yours and that giant red scarf and I still would’ve brought you along.”

“Really?” Yixing asks, skeptical.

Wu Fan slides his hand along Yixing’s arm, and it’s nice, and comfortable, and Yixing feels like all that frustration and anxiousness was never bubbling up inside him to begin with. “Really,” Wu Fan says, and Yixing stares at him for a few long moments, as if deciding whether he’s telling the truth, but then laughs happily and smiles.

Wu Fan eyes flicker with something like surprise, and he leans away a little and Yixing tries not to think about how that disappoints him. But then Wu Fan is poking a finger to right cheek and saying, “Your smile. It’s cute. Your dimple is cute.” His eyes don’t leave Yixing’s, and Yixing thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.

He chuckles uncertainly because Wu Fan’s intense gaze is unlike any he’s seen before, definitely not from Wu Fan, and he feels, suddenly, a little trapped with his back against the wall and Wu Fan’s tall stature looming above him. But Wu Fan’s hand rubs softly at his arm again, and his other hand drops from his face to touch his hip and when Yixing licks his lips habitually, Wu Fan’s eyes follow the swipe of his tongue.

“Wu Fan?” he says, now slightly concerned, but Wu Fan doesn’t say anything. Instead, he closes what little distance is left between them with a soft kiss to Yixing’s lips.

For a moment it feels like everything stops, the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, the clattering of forks and knives against dishes, other diners laughing and chatting around them. And then, in the next second, Wu Fan’s lips move smoothly across Yixing’s, the tip of his tongue pressing along the seam, and the world comes rushing back but Yixing still can’t believe that this is happening.

Just as he feels Wu Fan start to back away, Yixing lets out a tiny involuntary moan and pulls him right back by yanking on his tie, and he sees Wu Fan’s eyes fluttering open wide before he closes his own and kisses back. Wu Fan grips tight at Yixing’s waist and lets out a sigh of what Yixing thinks might be relief, before bringing the kiss in even deeper, and Yixing’s mind spins a little, out of confusion and uncertainty that they should even be doing this. But Wu Fan’s mouth is slick and warm against his, and his hands on Yixing’s waist are reassuring, and Yixing gives into the feeling and the blooming happiness in his heart that maybe this is something he’s wanted to do for a long time, and just wasn’t sure about.

“Hey, there you are--oh,” a familiar deep voice cuts through Yixing’s thoughts and he pulls away from Wu Fan so quickly he bangs his head against the wall. Chanyeol is staring at them with a gleeful expression that makes his face a little lopsided, and Wu Fan seems to be holding back laughter as he gently rubs the back of Yixing’s head.

“Well, it’s time to eat, so, whenever you guys are, you know, ready to join us,” Chanyeol says, grinning widely, and Wu Fan shoves his shoulder.

“We’ll be right there,” he says and Chanyeol laughs and leaves hurriedly, and Yixing is certain he’s gone off to tell Baekhyun and Jongdae exactly what he’s just witnessed. Wu Fan turns back to Yixing and says, “Are you okay?”

Yixing nods. “I’m fine,” he replies, reaches up to take Wu Fan’s hand that’s still in his hair and squeezes gently. His lips still tingle from the kiss, and he almost doesn’t want to go back. But he smiles up at Wu Fan and says, “Let’s go eat, shall we?”

“Okay,” Wu Fan says, and, before Yixing can slip around him and head back toward the event room, Wu Fan tilts up his chin and leans forward to kiss him once again. He pulls back almost as quickly and his eyes are smiling so brightly, and Yixing feels butterflies in his stomach, and a laugh bubbles out of him, big and irrepressible. “Come on,” Wu Fan says, and leads Yixing back to the party and Yixing follows after feeling much happier than he did when he first arrived, and possibly ever in his life before.



Yixing thinks he really shouldn't be surprised that he's greeted by Jongin and Lu Han's smarmy grins the second he gets into work the next morning.

"You don't work here," he tells Lu Han unnecessarily as he slips his apron around his waist and struggles a bit to tie it off behind him. Jongin stops to help and Yixing narrows his eyes at him over his shoulder. "And you're supposed to be off."

"Kyungsoo needed someone to take his shift for some reason and I said yes," Jongin explains.

"Lucky me," Yixing says and Jongin pokes him hard between his shoulder blades.

Lu Han leans over the counter and says, "So? Are you gonna tell us or do we have to drag it out of you?"

"Tell you what," Yixing says, putting on his blank expression and pretending he has no idea what Lu Han is talking about.

This time Lu Han jabs him in the chest. "Don't do that, we all got a message from Chanyeol yesterday, so we know."

"How do you even--"

"We exchanged numbers that day we played soccer. They're cool, your boyfriend’s friends."

"He's not my boyfriend," Yixing says automatically, only this time he's not as convinced. After last night, well, he's not sure what they are.

"But you kissed," Lu Han points out excitedly and Jongin snickers behind a hand and says, “More like they attacked each other, according to Chanyeol.”

“We did not,” Yixing says, willing the heat to stop rising in his cheeks. “And don’t laugh at me, Jongin, you should be glad I’ve never told anyone about the time I found you and Zitao sucking face in the back room.”

“What?!” Lu Han exclaims, looking positively gleeful at the prospect of new information, while Jongin gapes at Yixing, his expression somewhere crossed between mortified and murderous.

Yixing smiles warmly at him and shrugs. “Oops,” he says and turns away to start setting up the shop for the day.

“Oops?” Jongin repeats, “Zhang Yixing, I’m going to--”

“But wait,” Lu Han cuts in, “isn’t Zitao dating Sehun?”

Yixing stops and looks over at Jongin who, if possible, seems to flush even more, and Yixing almost laughs because he forgets just how easily embarrassed Jongin gets. “It’s complicated,” Jongin mutters, and then looks horrified that he said anything at all and presses his hands to his flaming cheeks.

Lu Han stares at Jongin in amusement and Yixing sighs, wondering why his friends are all perpetually gossiping twelve-year-olds.

“Well, enough about Jongin’s strange love life,” Lu Han says, finally peeling his gaze away from Jongin to turn back to Yixing, who dutifully ignores him. “Let’s talk about yours.”

“Let’s not,” Yixing says. “There’s nothing to say, anyway.”

And, really, there isn’t. The rest of the evening was much better than the start, and Yixing enjoyed a really nice dinner with Wu Fan and his friends, easily brushing off their occasional jabs at their relationship. Chanyeol only shut up about it when Wu Fan threatened to tell their boss about the time Chanyeol had fucked a client in his own office. The tips of Chanyeol’s ears had gone bright pink and he’d shut his mouth about the whole thing, and Baekhyun, laughing loudly over the whole thing, turned the conversation over to other things.

When Wu Fan and Yixing returned to their building, they parted with simple goodnights and nothing more, heading into their own apartments without a glance back. Wu Fan didn’t bring up the kiss and Yixing didn’t either, even though he wanted to, even though he wanted to do it again, and instead he spent a very long time in bed thinking about it over and over until he fell asleep.

He hasn’t heard from Wu Fan yet today, but he’s trying not to make a big deal about that. It’s still early, and he’ll have the chance to talk to him about this, whatever it is, later.

At least, that’s what he figures, but when he sends Wu Fan a short text during his break (Last night was really fun! I’m glad you invited me. What’re you up to today?), he doesn’t get a response at all. Wu Fan’s not exactly glued to his phone the way Zitao is, but he’s always been quick to reply to Yixing’s messages, and when there’s still no answer by the end of Yixing’s shift, five hours later, he’s a little worried.

When Yixing gets home, he stops and knocks on Wu Fan’s door first, but after the third try and no response, he heads into his own apartment, unease slinking down into the pit of his stomach. He tells himself that Wu Fan is probably just busy, that maybe something work-related came up and he hasn’t had a chance to look at his phone. Yixing tries not to think about it much, pushing the errant thoughts away as he heads to his one guitar lesson that night, teaching his teenage student how to play his favorite song for an upcoming school event. It keeps his mind off of Wu Fan, which is really what he needs, focusing on the music as he plays the piece for his student and laughs at the look of mortification on his face as he whines and insists he’ll never be able to play.

“You’ll get there,” he tells him, smiling, setting his guitar aside, and for the next hour he doesn’t think about anything other than the lesson and the way the sounds of the song slowly start to form as his student practices.

He’s making a big deal out of nothing, he convinces himself, and that’s enough.



“You look awful,” Jongin says when Yixing slips into a seat around the table at a small barbecue place for lunch on Thursday.

“Thanks, nice to see you, too, Jongin,” Yixing replies, rolling his eyes as he unwinds his scarf from around his neck. Lu Han splutters beside him as he nearly whips him in the face with it, and Yixing smiles apologetically.

“Well it’s true,” Jongin says, defensive, and beside him even Sehun nods. He’s leaning against Jongin like Jongin is his own personal headrest, but Jongin doesn’t look like he minds.

“I’m fine,” Yixing insists, opening up a menu and hiding behind it.

“You think we can’t tell when you’re lying?” Minseok asks, raising an eyebrow. “Is this about Wu Fan?”

“What else would it be about?” Jongin says, before Yixing can open his mouth, and he yelps when Yixing kicks him under the table.

“It’s not,” Yixing insists. “My life doesn’t revolve around him, thanks.”

“But you’ve heard from him, right?” Lu Han asks, and for once, he looks rather concerned than curious. “It’s been three days.”

Yixing shakes his head and takes a sip of his glass of water. “I haven’t,” he says and shrugs. “He’s probably busy. He probably went out of town again.”

“Without telling you?” Jongin questions, raising a brow, and Yixing shrugs again.

“Just forget about it, okay?” he says, and puts on a smile. It feels fake even to him. “I came to have lunch and to make fun of Lu Han’s dumb face, not to get interrogated about a relationship I’m not even in.”

“Hey!” Lu Han exclaims, and he kicks Yixing under the table, which makes Yixing laugh, a real one, and the tension in the air fades away.

Jongin looks like he wants to discuss this more, but their waiter stops by to get their orders and he lets it go, and Yixing is thankful. He’s spent a lot of time the past few days wondering why Wu Fan has ignored his texts, wondering where he’s gone, and why he didn’t feel the need to tell him, especially considering what happened between them before he disappeared, and the last thing Yixing needs is to talk about it all with his friends. He just wants some time to forget about it, to convince himself that maybe that kiss was just a fluke, just a spur of the moment thing, and it didn’t really mean anything to Wu Fan the way it’s started to mean something to Yixing.



Yixing wakes Wednesday morning to a message from Wu Fan on his phone. He stares at the little notification for the longest time, half of him not even interested in what Wu Fan could possibly have to say, but the other, more persistent half of him so relieved, and so curious that he gives in.

I’m sorry for not replying to your messages, it reads. I got called out for work in Tokyo and it’s been really busy. I’m really sorry. But I’m heading back tonight, and I want to see you. I...I think we have to talk.

Yixing reads and rereads the message until he’s got it memorized, and in the end he replies, Sure. Come over when you get back.

Then he pulls himself out of bed and gets ready for work, and tries to ignore the heavy weight of anticipation that settles like a brick in his stomach.

It isn’t until late in the evening, a few hours after Yixing returns home from the ice cream shop, that Wu Fan finally returns. He can hear him out in the hall as he sits on the couch, alternating between poking his way around a small pint of mint chocolate ice cream, and picking up his guitar, aimlessly working on that song that’s been lingering in the back of his mind, the one that he’d played out on the balcony while Wu Fan had watched. The television plays a rerun of an old drama that Yixing’s left on for background noise, his mind focused elsewhere. He could go up and catch Wu Fan himself, demand some answers, but instead he just waits. It’s Wu Fan who almost disappeared, ignoring Yixing’s calls and messages and acting like nothing had happened. It’s Wu Fan who should come to him.

And he does. A part of Yixing thought that maybe Wu Fan would forget, would just go back to his apartment and never show up, but about ten minutes later there’s a knock at Yixing’s door and Wu Fan is standing beyond the threshold when he gets up to answer it.

“Hi,” Wu Fan says, and he looks exhausted, his hair a little matted against his head, probably from under a hat to fend off the cold, and there are dark circles of tiredness under his eyes.

Yixing feels his concern slowly ebb away all his previous worries, and he ushers Wu Fan into the apartment, and heads to the kitchen to put on some tea. Wu Fan leans against the counter and Yixing can feel his eyes on him as he moves around the kitchen. He puts the kettle on the stove and opens the cupboard to the left to grab two mugs. He sets them down onto the counter by the stove and turns to the fridge, wondering if maybe there are some snacks or something he could bring out, when Wu Fan catches his rest and tugs gently, until Yixing is stumbling into his chest. He looks up quickly, eyes wide, and Wu Fan is staring at him much like the way he had that night at the party, leaning in close to Yixing as he was pressed up against the wall, and this moment feels incredibly similar but Wu Fan’s not going to kiss him again, is he?

He does, stealing Yixing’s breath as he closes the distance between them and presses slightly chapped lips against Yixing’s softer owns, sucking softly on the curve of his lower lip until Yixing is relaxed enough that he can slip his tongue into his mouth. Yixing’s mind spins and he clutches onto the front of Wu Fan’s t-shirt, and Wu Fan’s arms wrap around his back, and oh god, Yixing didn’t realize he wanted this to happen again so much until now.

“I’ve been wanting to do that the entire time I was gone,” Wu Fan admits when he pulls back, gasping as his chest heaves against Yixing’s. He rubs a thumb across Yixing’s cheekbone, fingers sliding into his hair, and Yixing feels simultaneously more confused than ever before and so happy he thinks his heart might just burst.

“But, I thought, after what happened, and you ignoring my calls...” Yixing says, uncertain, and Wu Fan shakes his head quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I just...I wasn’t sure if I should’ve even done that, kissing you that night. I didn't want to ruin anything.” He looks at Yixing sadly, and Yixing wonders if he’d been driving himself mad the past few days thinking about this the way Yixing had fell into a terrible pit of uncertainty over whether he’d done something wrong.

“I kissed you back,” Yixing says softly, and he pulls on the fabric of Wu Fan’s shirt even more, curling in between his fingers as he steps even closer. “I kissed you back now, too.”

“You did,” Wu Fan sighs, and he looks relieved, like he can’t believe this is really happening. Yixing quite can’t either.

“It surprised me, the first time,” he admits. “But...but I liked it. I really liked it. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” He feels his face heat up a little as he rambles, and he stares at the collar of Wu Fan’s shirt instead of at his face. “And, well, I like you.”

Wu Fan stares at him unblinkingly for what feels like eternity, but then his face breaks out into that big, gummy grin of his that Yixing absolutely adores and he’s tugging Yixing in even closer with hands on his hips like he’s trying to mold their bodies into one and laughs against his mouth, “I like you, too.” His laugh grows a little incredulous and his fingers dig into Yixing’s skin. “I like you, too.”

Yixing feels laughter bubbling in his chest, too, and he presses up to kiss Wu Fan again when the kettle on the stove whistles and startles them both, Yixing jumping back so suddenly he steps on Wu Fan’s toes. Wu Fan just laughs louder, bringing a hand up to hide his mouth, and Yixing rubs the back of his neck as he turns to fill their mugs.

Yixing hands Wu Fan one, their fingers brushing against each other as Wu Fan takes it with a silent nod. His eyes are on Yixing, though, and his gaze is almost fond as Yixing busies himself with softly blowing onto his tea to cool it down before taking a small sip.

“I really am sorry,” Wu Fan says, a few moments later, and he’s rubbing a finger along the rim of the mug. “I shouldn’t have ignored your messages. I just...I just didn’t know what to say.”

“I thought I’d done something wrong,” Yixing says, and Wu Fan winces. “I thought, maybe, I’d read the signs wrong--”

“You didn’t,” Wu Fan cuts in quickly. “It was just me being stupid. I’m sorry.”

Yixing takes another sip of his drink, as Wu Fan stares at him solemnly, and then slowly smiles. “I guess I can forgive you,” he says lightly. “You just can’t help your own stupidity sometimes.”

“Hey,” Wu Fan says, feigning hurt, and Yixing smiles warmly and surprises him with a quick kiss.

Wu Fan tries to pull him in for more but Yixing steps away and heads out of the kitchen toward the couch. “Want to watch a movie or something?” he asks, setting his mug onto the coffee table and looking over his shoulder.

“Sure,” Wu Fan says with that affectionate smile, and Yixing feels lighter than he ever has before.



“Are you going back home for Christmas?” Wu Fan asks Yixing, leaning over onto the front counter at the ice cream shop as Yixing counts up the money in the cash drawer for the night.

Yixing shakes his head. “No,” he says, trying not to feel too sad about it. “I’ll be here.”

Wu Fan smiles at him. “So will I,” he says. “We should...” He pauses and clears his throat, and looks down at his gloved fingers. Yixing pauses in slipping bills into an envelope to put in the safe in the back and stares at him, and Wu Fan seems to notice his gaze, cheeks growing a little pink. “We should do something, together,” he says, finally, and quickly glances up at Yixing hopefully.

Yixing blinks. He stuffs the bills into the envelope and shuts the register, and Wu Fan watches him anxiously, until Yixing grins, resting his elbows onto the counter to lean forward toward Wu Fan. “I’d like that,” he says, and laughs when Wu Fan lets out a relieved breath.

“Don’t do that,” he says, and it sounds like a whine, which makes Yixing laugh louder until Wu Fan tugs at his collar and kisses him over the counter. Yixing’s smile grows as he returns it, and it’s only been a few days since Wu Fan had come by and they’d ended up cuddling on Yixing’s couch and exchanging more kisses instead of watching the movie he’s put in, but Yixing feels like he’s been doing this forever, the press and slide of his lips against Wu Fan’s nothing short of perfect.

“You know, I’m really glad you two finally made it to this point, but can you leave it for when I’m not around?” Jongin’s voice cuts through Yixing’s thoughts and he pulls away reluctantly while Wu Fan quickly straightens up, pulling on the ends of his suit jacket and coughing behind a hand.

Yixing turns to Jongin who is resting his chin upon the end of the broomstick with a giant, amused smirk on his face. “Go home, Jongin,” he says, and Jongin cackles.

“You guys are cute,” he coos at them, and Yixing thinks that for all Jongin tries to act like he doesn’t care, he is actually happy about this turn of events. “I’m glad I don’t have to see you moping anymore, at least.”

“Get out of here,” Yixing says, narrowing his eyes at Jongin as he feels Wu Fan look over at him worriedly. Jongin salutes him with two fingers and returns the broom to the storage closet before bundling up in a blue peacoat and fluffy hat, tugging the ear flaps down over his ears. He waves goodbye and Yixing smiles after him before turning back to Wu Fan. “I’m almost done here, and then we can go.”

Wu Fan waves his hand dismissively. “That’s fine,” he says, and he pulls out his phone to check messages while Yixing puts the money away in the back and sweeps up behind the counter. He slips into his coat as he walks around the front to join Wu Fan, who takes his red scarf and winds it around Yixing’s neck, smirking as it covers up half his face, and Yixing swats at his arm as he fixes it so he can speak without swallowing a mouthful of yarn.

He blinks at the sudden intense gaze in Wu Fan’s eyes, and says as they head outside and he locks up behind them,“What’s up?”

Wu Fan shakes out of his thoughts and he sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets and and says, “I just, what Jongin said earlier, about you--”

“Ah, the moping?” Yixing says and Wu Fan nods. “He’s a liar, you don’t have to listen to anything he says.” He kicks at a patch of snow on the ground with his boot.

“Oh really?” Wu Fan questions, raising a brow.

“Really,” Yixing insists, trying to keep his face serious, but a smile tugs at his lips when he looks at Wu Fan’s amused gaze. “Don’t worry about that,” he adds with a shrug. “Everything is good, now, anyway.” He turns away, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them to warm them up.

Wu Fan reaches out and grabs his left hand, and Yixing’s eyes widen as he pushes his hand into his own pocket, linking their fingers inside the heat of his coat. Wu Fan stares steadily ahead, away from Yixing’s inquiring eyes, and says, “You really need to buy gloves.”

Yixing grins widely and squeezes Wu Fan’s hand. “I like this better,” he says and laughs at the way Wu Fan flushes.



“Hey,” Yixing says, grinning widely as he lets Wu Fan into the apartment.

Wu Fan smiles back, eyes bright behind black-rimmed glasses, and he’s holding a small brown gift bag that he won’t let Yixing take. Instead, he unwinds his blue scarf from around his neck and shucks out of his coat and hands them over, and Yixing puts them away in the hall closet and jumps, startled, when Wu Fan catches him in a quick kiss right after.

Yixing laughs and returns it, arms winding up behind Wu Fan’s neck. Wu Fan pulls back a few moments later and says, “Sorry I’m late. I got called into the office this morning and needed to help out with something.”

“On Christmas?” Yixing says, eyebrows raised. “Workaholic.” He pokes Wu Fan in the chest and then takes his hand, leads them out from the doorway and into the apartment.

“Apparently I was the only one available,” Wu Fan says with a sigh. He stops in his tracks when he follows Yixing into the living room and his eyes widen. “Wow,” he says, taking in the small-sized Christmas tree in the corner, complete with decorations. There’s tinsel hanging across the windows and around the coffee table, and candles flickering atop the bookshelf.

“I was bored,” Yixing says, with a shrug, amused by Wu Fan’s expression. “Besides, it’s Christmas! We have to be a little festive.”

“It looks great,” Wu Fan says, and his earnestness makes Yixing’s heart warm. “Better than anything I would’ve done on my own.”

Yixing beams at him. He claps his hands together and says, “So, come on, sit down!” He pushes Wu Fan toward the couch. “I made dinner for us but I think it may have burned so I can’t guarantee the taste anymore and--”

“Yixing,” Wu Fan says, cutting across him as he grabs Yixing’s elbow and tugs him down to the couch. Yixing ends up mostly sprawled across his lap which makes heat burn in his cheeks instantly, but Wu Fan doesn’t seem concerned, a big hand pressing up against the side of his face. “Relax,” he breathes, and he leans forward and closes the space between them in a soft kiss.

Yixing murmurs, “Okay,” against his lips and kisses back, because yes, he can definitely do this, too. He slips his fingers into Wu Fan’s hair, turns a bit until he’s properly straddling Wu Fan, insides of his thighs rubbing against Wu Fan’s as he settles down against him. Wu Fan wraps an arm around his waist, pulls him close, closer than close, until Yixing can almost feel his heart beat in sync with his.

He sighs against Wu Fan’s lips as Wu Fan’s fingers slip up under his shirt, pressing along the bumps and curve of his spine and dragging the fabric up with him until it’s bunching at Yixing’s neck. Yixing’s heart beats loudly in his ears and he raises his arms over his head, breaking their kiss long enough for Wu Fan to slide his shirt off. Wu Fan’s eyes are searching as Yixing rubs his hands down Wu Fan’s shoulders, silently asking if this is okay, and Yixing doesn’t think he can even express just how okay it is.

“You’re not thinking about stopping, are you?” Yixing asks, shuddering as Wu Fan’s hands roam over his bare skin, knuckles bumping against nipples.

“I don’t think I can,” Wu Fan admits, and Yixing lets out a shaky laugh.

“Good,” he says and their kiss this time is much harder, fiercer, teeth bumping together a little painfully, but lips smooth and wet, tongues slick as they tangle together. Yixing ruts his hips down against Wu Fan and he feels his hardness against his own, a delicious, burning friction through the roughness of their jeans. Yixing moans softly which makes Wu Fan dig his fingernails into his skin and hold him steady as he grinds up.

Yixing shivers at when Wu Fan groans, the low sound tumbling pleasantly down his back, and holds on tight to the front of Wu Fan's buttoned white shirt, that a few buttons have popped open from their efforts, revealing soft pale skin. Yixing drags his lips down along from Wu Fan's mouth to his neck, suckling gently at the sweat-slicked skin and his arousal grows with every tiny gasp that escapes Wu Fan's lips.

When Wu Fan undoes his jeans, Yixing swallows thickly and kisses him again, hips canting upward into his fist as it wraps around his erection. And everything seems to overwhelm him at that moment, Wu Fan's hot breath on his lips, the blunt pressure of his fingernails in his waist, the firmness of his strokes along his cock, and the realization that yes, this is happening, hits Yixing hard. And he moans out Wu Fan's name as he comes, rocking his hips instinctively as he comes over Wu Fan's fingers.

"Fuck," Wu Fan hisses, teeth catching on Yixing's bottom lip as he jerks against Yixing's hip, and Yixing quickly slides off of him onto the floor to help him out, tugging jeans down his thighs and jacking him off in just a few quick strokes.

Wu Fan's shoulders tense for a moment before his whole body seems to collapse, boneless, against the back of the couch, eyelashes fluttering as he catches his breath. Yixing just laughs, irrepressible, as he climbs back onto the couch and kisses him messily, more tongue and heavy, sated breaths than anything else.

“Well,” Wu Fan says, his eyes soft as he rubs a thumb along Yixing’s jaw, “this is already shaping up to be a better Christmas than last year.”

Yixing knows the feeling. He fastens up his jeans and stands, and pulls at Wu Fan’s arm. “Come on,” he says, “let’s clean up and eat. I’m starving.” He grins. “And afterward you can give me my present.” He eyes the brown bag that had fallen off the couch and onto the floor, a wrapped gift peeking out from the top, and laughs at Wu Fan’s scowl.

Later, after they’ve eaten and watched a terrible holiday special on TV, and Yixing’s ripped open his present excitedly in a way that makes Wu Fan call him a child, looking on in a mix of affection and apprehension. He finds a pair of soft gloves that match the red of the scarf Yixing always wears, and Yixing laughs, teases, “But I think your pocket is warm enough,” which makes Wu Fan flush cutely, until he pokes Yixing in the forehead and questions, “Where’s my gift?”

And Yixing, grinning, climbs off the couch to grab his guitar, and he worries his lower lip between his teeth as he fiddles with tuning it, murmuring, “It’s not anything special, but it’s that song you wanted to hear,” before he plays, and he keeps his focus on the chords and the pressure of the strings hard against his fingertips, and not the weight of Wu Fan’s soft, attentive gaze that burns slow like candlelight in the pit of his belly.

Later, after all of that, after Wu Fan kisses him warmly when the final notes of his song fades away, and he breathes, “Thank you,” against his lips and Yixing laughs at him for getting too sentimental, they curl up together under the quilted blanket Yixing’s grandmother had given him for Christmas three years ago. Yixing tucks his feet under himself and breathes in the smell of cocoa from the mug of steaming hot chocolate warm in his hands. And beside him Wu Fan is stretched out with his long legs under the coffee table, his shoulder pressed warm against Yixing’s, and a smile on his face that lights up Yixing's heart.

Wu Fan finds his hand under the blanket, threads their fingers together, soft and reassuring, and Yixing smiles around the rim of his mug as Wu Fan leans into his ear to say, “Merry Christmas.”

note: a;skldjga;sdkga um yes i really really hope you enjoyed this even a little. thank you very much for reading and i hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!!! ♥♥♥♥