miuyi
in
thekpop100
#010 - fire and the flood
Title: fire and the flood
Author: miuyi
Fandom/Characters/Pairing: exo; yixing, lu han (former)
Rating/Warnings: pg for swearing; underage drinking
Challenge # & Prompt: #010 - playing with fire
Word Count: 808w
Title from this song of the same name
Yixing was born in an uncertain little city in the south of the country. At age ten he moved away with his family and rarely ever thought of that place again. Sometimes though, even years and years later, when he's at the edge of sleep and rain is falling in spectacular sheets over Beijing, he hears the claxons of the flood-warning system ring from a dusty corner of his mind, like an urgent whisper of something awful to come.
Lu Han is crouching in the corridor, back against the wall. Yixing winces as he eases the door closed with a soft click. The walls are white and bare, and the carpet dust-grey. In the sallow, flickering lights Lu Han looks like something out of a B-grade art exhibition. Boy in knockoff snapback, 2009. Flesh and blood.
“About fucking time,” Lu Han peers around Yixing to the closed apartment door behind him. “Your parents…”
“Asleep,” Yixing confirms. “Sorry. They took ages.”
“S’alright,” Lu Han says, standing. “My fault.” He lifts his snapback with one hand, runs his other over his hair to smooth it down, then puts the cap back on his head. “If I wasn't such a ‘bad influence’ maybe they'd let you out with me.”
His backpack clinks, glass on glass, as he throws it over his shoulder. It sags under its own weight, straps taut over Lu Han’s back. Not illegal, because he's been eighteen since last April. Not yet anyway, since Yixing won't be for another three months.
“My fault too,” Yixing says, following him down the corridor toward the elevators. Lu Han raises an eyebrow. “For being such a shit liar.”
Lu Han laughs, shoving at his shoulder. Yixing might be a shit liar, but Lu Han never lies on principle. Once Yixing asked him why, when he was thirteen and the most popular kid in his grade and Yixing was eleven and still too much of an outsider to make any friends, he'd taken him under his wing so resolutely it was like he was daring someone to tell him he couldn't.
“Because you seemed nice. Like, really nice.” He shrugged, like it hadn't meant the entire world to Yixing. “And I had a lot of friends, but most of them weren't very nice.”
They don't go far. About ten storeys skyward. Yixing’s idea, because Lu Han’s knees go weak at the thought of standing on anything over waist height.
It's summer but it doesn't feel like it up here, above the sticky heat of the city. A breeze nips at Yixing’s clothes, at the strands of hair slipping out from under Lu Han’s snapback.
There is alcohol in his bag, a lot of it, but there's also a pack of sparklers.
“Why’d you bring these?” Yixing asks, bemused.
Lu Han shrugs and twists open the top of his beer, doesn't look at Yixing. “Dunno. You graduated and I'm…” He swallows a mouthful of beer. “Felt like celebrating, or something.”
Yixing fishes Lu Han’s lighter out of the front pocket of his bag. “Let's celebrate, then.”
He flicks the lighter and holds it to the tip, and the sparkler sputters to life in his hand, throwing out tiny shards of light. He swings it around, and it burns a split-second trail into the dark wherever it goes. He writes his own name, then writes Lu Han’s.
When he turns around Lu Han has his own sparkler lit up, carving lines into the night. He has the beer in his other hand, and his snapback falls off when he crouches to try and draw something against the sky. He doesn't pick it back up. This one would be called My best friend, 2009. Fire and night.
Yixing stares at Lu Han. His ears ring, just a little. Stay, he carves into the space between them. As quickly as he writes it, it's gone. Please. His sparkler is beginning to sputter out. Please stay. The light goes out in Yixing’s hand.
“What were you writing?” Lu Han asks.
Yixing pulls another sparkler out of the box. “Nothing important.”
Later, when they've used them all and they're lying side by side on their backs, staring up at the night sky, Yixing says, “It’s all going to change now, isn't it?”
Lu Han tilts his head to look at him, but Yixing doesn't look back. “I don't think so. I don't think it has to.”
He'd never tell him so, but Yixing thinks Lu Han’s best quality is his hope. Yixing envies him. He wishes he had the unconditional optimism to fall in love with a new girl every other month, or to believe in the power of friendship, whatever the fuck that means, or to drop everything and fly to Korea because he has a dream.
Yixing closes his eyes. In the distance, he hears sirens.
Author: miuyi
Fandom/Characters/Pairing: exo; yixing, lu han (former)
Rating/Warnings: pg for swearing; underage drinking
Challenge # & Prompt: #010 - playing with fire
Word Count: 808w
Title from this song of the same name
Yixing was born in an uncertain little city in the south of the country. At age ten he moved away with his family and rarely ever thought of that place again. Sometimes though, even years and years later, when he's at the edge of sleep and rain is falling in spectacular sheets over Beijing, he hears the claxons of the flood-warning system ring from a dusty corner of his mind, like an urgent whisper of something awful to come.
Lu Han is crouching in the corridor, back against the wall. Yixing winces as he eases the door closed with a soft click. The walls are white and bare, and the carpet dust-grey. In the sallow, flickering lights Lu Han looks like something out of a B-grade art exhibition. Boy in knockoff snapback, 2009. Flesh and blood.
“About fucking time,” Lu Han peers around Yixing to the closed apartment door behind him. “Your parents…”
“Asleep,” Yixing confirms. “Sorry. They took ages.”
“S’alright,” Lu Han says, standing. “My fault.” He lifts his snapback with one hand, runs his other over his hair to smooth it down, then puts the cap back on his head. “If I wasn't such a ‘bad influence’ maybe they'd let you out with me.”
His backpack clinks, glass on glass, as he throws it over his shoulder. It sags under its own weight, straps taut over Lu Han’s back. Not illegal, because he's been eighteen since last April. Not yet anyway, since Yixing won't be for another three months.
“My fault too,” Yixing says, following him down the corridor toward the elevators. Lu Han raises an eyebrow. “For being such a shit liar.”
Lu Han laughs, shoving at his shoulder. Yixing might be a shit liar, but Lu Han never lies on principle. Once Yixing asked him why, when he was thirteen and the most popular kid in his grade and Yixing was eleven and still too much of an outsider to make any friends, he'd taken him under his wing so resolutely it was like he was daring someone to tell him he couldn't.
“Because you seemed nice. Like, really nice.” He shrugged, like it hadn't meant the entire world to Yixing. “And I had a lot of friends, but most of them weren't very nice.”
They don't go far. About ten storeys skyward. Yixing’s idea, because Lu Han’s knees go weak at the thought of standing on anything over waist height.
It's summer but it doesn't feel like it up here, above the sticky heat of the city. A breeze nips at Yixing’s clothes, at the strands of hair slipping out from under Lu Han’s snapback.
There is alcohol in his bag, a lot of it, but there's also a pack of sparklers.
“Why’d you bring these?” Yixing asks, bemused.
Lu Han shrugs and twists open the top of his beer, doesn't look at Yixing. “Dunno. You graduated and I'm…” He swallows a mouthful of beer. “Felt like celebrating, or something.”
Yixing fishes Lu Han’s lighter out of the front pocket of his bag. “Let's celebrate, then.”
He flicks the lighter and holds it to the tip, and the sparkler sputters to life in his hand, throwing out tiny shards of light. He swings it around, and it burns a split-second trail into the dark wherever it goes. He writes his own name, then writes Lu Han’s.
When he turns around Lu Han has his own sparkler lit up, carving lines into the night. He has the beer in his other hand, and his snapback falls off when he crouches to try and draw something against the sky. He doesn't pick it back up. This one would be called My best friend, 2009. Fire and night.
Yixing stares at Lu Han. His ears ring, just a little. Stay, he carves into the space between them. As quickly as he writes it, it's gone. Please. His sparkler is beginning to sputter out. Please stay. The light goes out in Yixing’s hand.
“What were you writing?” Lu Han asks.
Yixing pulls another sparkler out of the box. “Nothing important.”
Later, when they've used them all and they're lying side by side on their backs, staring up at the night sky, Yixing says, “It’s all going to change now, isn't it?”
Lu Han tilts his head to look at him, but Yixing doesn't look back. “I don't think so. I don't think it has to.”
He'd never tell him so, but Yixing thinks Lu Han’s best quality is his hope. Yixing envies him. He wishes he had the unconditional optimism to fall in love with a new girl every other month, or to believe in the power of friendship, whatever the fuck that means, or to drop everything and fly to Korea because he has a dream.
Yixing closes his eyes. In the distance, he hears sirens.