(for fairyminseok) gravity will always win (so i'm falling for you)
For: fairyminseok
By: Anonymous until reveals
Title: gravity will always win (so i'm falling for you)
Rating: R
Length: 7000
Warnings: drug use, alcohol
Notes: Thank you to A for the general hand-holding and ensuring my sanity throughout the duration of this exchange. Many thanks to my lovely group of betas who tore this fic apart so I could piece it back together the right way. To my recipient, I really hope you can enjoy this piece even though I feel like I did your prompts injustice and that this is so insufficient. Sorry. Title from Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees". Playlist for the fic can be found here.
Summary: Jongin's just another boy who is pretty for the eyes, but maybe not for the heart. Yixing could be wrong though.
Yixing trudges through the haze of smoke that clouds his mind, trying to shake away his cluttered consciousness and understand his surroundings. The cheap strobe lights flicker chaotically and Yixing closes his eyes and curses - dizzying spells in full gear as he makes a reminder to tell Baekhyun to buy new lights if he’s going to have any more decent parties.
His skin is prickling, his senses are numb. He loses himself again but manages to stumble over a very drunk Sehun in all his long-legged glory on the floor, which drags his barely-there soul back into his body. Stay, stay, stay - Yixing tells himself. His eyelids flutter, his throat is parched.
Amidst the smoke and haze, he spots a mop of brown hair and sparkling doe eyes. Yixing drags his languid body over to Luhan, who is laughing away happily with Jongdae, oblivious to his glassy-eyed best friend. Yixing doesn’t miss the lingering hand that slides down Jongdae’s arm even in his disoriented state.
“Luhan, can you bring me some water? I’m coming down,” Yixing taps his best friend’s shoulder. Luhan’s eyes shift from amused to worried and back to amused again because this is not something he’s not used to.
“Weed any good?” Luhan asks, shifting his attention to Yixing whose soul seems to be flitting in and out of his body. He is unsteady on his feet as his vision doubles, then triples and turns into a blurry photo.
“Can’t expect much from strangers,” his voice is slow and drawn out, eyes barely open. “At least it was free,” Yixing adds, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to let out a sigh. The world stops turning for a moment, the music is drowned out. Yixing looks completely at bliss and Luhan looks at him with frantic amusement.
“Amen to that,” Luhan’s soft laugh is melodious, his eyes crinkling and hands clapping Yixing’s shoulder. Yixing loses his balance and grabs onto Luhan whose chin is now disappearing into his neck from laughter. It’s been like this for years - Yixing tripping and stumbling through his life and Luhan is there, always ready to catch him. This is what best friends are for, Yixing thinks. It’s a wonder Luhan is still here after all the times Yixing tears himself apart and refuses to be put back together. ‘Creative depression’, Luhan calls it, even though he and Yixing perfectly know that it is just the self-destructive way Yixing is living.
Yixing feels an unfortunate sensation that is the throbbing beat of the bass as his senses start recovering. He absently overhears Luhan asking Jongdae to fetch him a glass of water. Luhan guides a dazed Yixing to a nearby couch and shoos the other partygoers away until they have the entire couch to themselves. His head is in Luhan’s lap and the rest of his body drapes haphazardly over the couch. Yixing’s world tips as Luhan shifts uncomfortably to dig something out his pockets and hands it to Yixing. He eyes the two white tablets in his hands, skeptical of what they are.
“Pain killers,” Luhan says, slapping Yixing gently across the head. “I don’t leave the house without them, especially if you’re going to be floating in the fifth dimension.” Yixing is grateful, really. But he doesn’t say anything to Luhan because some things don’t need to be said to be understood. Yixing spots Jongdae returning so he sits up - the world spins slowly, spectrums of colours melting together. Yixing politely thanks Jongdae for the water and swallows the two tablets.
“Luhan, can you please move over so I can -”
“You can leave now, Jongdae,” comes the short reply. Yixing feels like throwing something into Jongdae’s mouth as it hangs open in disbelief. The angelic smile on Luhan’s face doesn’t falter as Jongdae curses, laughing bitterly before he moves away. Yixing laughs softly.
“Harsh,” he says, sidling up to Luhan again as he waits for the painkillers to kick in. Luhan hooks an arm around Yixing’s neck, dragging him over and laughing.
“I’m not carrying around painkillers for you anymore,” Luhan threatens, aggressively ruffling Yixing’s hair, his laugh like the Devil’s. Yixing complains and pushes Luhan away.
“Jongdae likes you.” Yixing teases. His best friend doesn’t object but looks away instead, feigning disinterest. “Don’t act like you don’t like the attention, Luhan.” Luhan’s bubble bursts, and Yixing is thinking of Luhan’s lingering hand earlier when suddenly he finds himself in a headlock again, the two of them laughing.
“Shut up, I like Sehun.”
Yixing scoffs, earning a slap from Luhan. Yixing is continuously amazed at Luhan’s ability to give and receive affection while Yixing himself is struggling to destroy the permanent grey cloud in his mind - a storm cloud of swirling emotions that suffocates him. He doesn’t feel alive.
“Sehun likes Jongin.” Luhan randomly continues, voice soft with a tinge of annoyance. It takes Yixing a while to process this information, as he plays with his fingers - his thoughts barely anchored to himself.
Who the fuck is Jongin?
“Who the fuck is Jongin?” Yixing shuffles closer, interest piquing. Unbelievable, he thinks. Someone has the attention of the resident brick wall, Oh Sehun.
“New blood,” Luhan rolls his eyes. “Junmyeon paired him up with Sehun for a photoshoot. Very sexy, apparently. Actually, I think he’s at this party.”
Yixing is still very shocked and even though his headache is ebbing away slowly, his brain floats somewhere else.
“Yeah, Sehun talks about his toned body and honey eyes or whatever. It’s really fucking annoying.” Luhan whines. Yixing’s brain does a double flip as instances of Luhan gushing about Sehun flash before his eyes. Sehun, whose perfect body poses in just the right angles for Luhan’s camera, whose milk white skin creates a perfect contrast with the backdrop. His piercing gaze. Sehun is my muse, Luhan says. Yixing fights the urge to throw up.
Yixing notes the disdain in Luhan’s voice but it quickly disappears as Luhan pulls him up from the couch, eyes sparkling with excitement and challenge. Yixing still feels light-headed, pain killers only kicking in now. Yixing isn’t really interested in Luhan’s love rival, especially since he’s only returned from a field trip in the clouds. But he owes it to Luhan for the pain killers (and for everything else), to at least be a decent friend even if it feels like his head is about to rip itself apart, and his limbs feeling like jelly.
“He’s probably with his model clique,” Luhan clicks his tongue, pulling Yixing along by his sleeve. “Maybe Sehun is with them.”
Yixing contemplates telling his best friend that Sehun is smashed and probably being trampled all over on the other side of the house but decides against it because finding this Jongin person would probably require less effort than dragging a 181cm tall deadweight out of his own froth.
Yixing hums and Luhan drags him through the mingling crowd, eyes busily searching, feet moving. Yixing tries his best to keep up, but the world swirls into a spectrum of colour, his vision blurs - and his head is throbbing.
-
Luhan trips over his own feet as he excitedly exclaims to Yixing that he has found love-rival Jongin and pushes Yixing along in front of him. Yixing’s headache has dulled down to about forty-percent but the world is still a bit slow and - holy shit Luhan stop pushing me I’m going to crash into Junmyeon.
“Woah,” Junmyeon shifts aside, brows knotting together. “What’s the hurry?”
Luhan moves out from behind Yixing and stares at Junmyeon dead in the eye, pointer finger jabbing away at Junmyeon’s chest. Junmyeon looks obviously confused. Luhan has soft features and sparkly eyes, but he can be very scary.
Luhan narrows his eyes. “Move. Or I’m going to kick your ass after I kick Jongin’s.” Junmyeon steps back and clears his throat while brushing down his button-down, looking very unfazed all of a sudden.
“Yixing-ah?” The smile on Junmyeon’s face looks about as sincere as a tiger ready to attack, and the hand on Luhan’s shoulder isn’t really a comforting gesture. “Maybe Luhan’s getting tired of his job? Maybe we can hire a new photographer, what do you think?”
Junmyeon nods and walks away, and Yixing shakes his head. Luhan never learns.
“You just fucked around with a prickly cactus,” Yixing drawls, walking past Luhan who is still rooted in place. Yixing's mind clears up a bit after that entertaining exchange and he hums a soft tune under his breath, fingers unconsciously dancing on his thigh. Luhan walks beside him, muttering, as they approach an intimidating group of tall people mingling together, keeping to themselves.
Yixing spots the familiar faces of Yifan and Zitao and groans. His best friend simply urges him to keep moving, despite having complete knowledge of where Yixing stands when it comes to arrogant models. Luhan must really want Yixing to meet this Jongin but sadly, Yixing just wants to avoid this situation. If the smug looks on Yifan and Zitao’s faces mean anything, he presumes the two model pricks aren’t much different from their last encounter. Yixing drags a hand across his face and imagines the Jongin boy won’t be any different.
Yixing remembers the first time he meets the models that Junmyeon had scouted a year back. Heads held high, long legs and smug grins decorating their pretty faces. Junmyeon’s launching party was exclusive, some models and close friends gathering together to congratulate on his successful launch of a modelling agency.
While Luhan darts around the room greeting everyone and forms “meaningful” connections, Yixing manages to get by the night with sincere smiles and curt nods. But it isn’t a party if Luhan doesn’t settle his eye on someone. Yixing finds himself stumbling after Luhan whose tongue is barely in his mouth and soon they are standing in the presence of three men with piercing gazes and towering heights.
“Hi!” Luhan exclaims, and Yixing nearly rolls his eyes while his stomach curls. His eyes drift to anywhere but to the three men in front of him. He really wishes he had downed a few more drinks, because he’s definitely too sober for uncomfortable encounters like this. A nudge from Luhan is all he needs before Yixing introduces himself with a fake smile and firm handshakes.
“Zhang Yixing. Composer and choreographer. I’m Junmyeon’s friend from college.” A curt nod, and he thinks he’s done talking for the night. Melodies fill Yixing’s brain as he zones out of conversation, quavers and trills dancing across his mind as he decorates his masterpiece with sharp dance moves. Yixing is ready to leave Luhan’s side for another drink when a deep voice filters through his beautifully crafted melody and shatters his vision.
“Will you be working with Junmyeon? I can’t imagine what a composer or choreographer would be of any use though,” comes the short remark, voice laced with snark. Yixing glares at the man in front of him. Tall and handsome with sharp eyebrows and an even sharper gaze; full lips that curl at the sides and a perfectly angled nose.
The rude stranger goes by the name of Wu Yifan. Beside him, a giggly shorter blonde latches onto Yifan's side, pretty eyes piercing through Yixing. That’s Zitao. He leans up and whispers something in the taller man’s ear and they both chuckle, eyes glancing every now and then to Luhan and then to Yixing. He feels like disintegrating and decides he'll walk away. He notices that Luhan doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to the two, but rather to a young boy who stands a little bit far off from the other two, sipping quietly on juice. Still underage, Yixing guesses. Luhan is captivated. The boy has long legs and tousled ash blonde hair that falls prettily over his sleepy eyes. Yixing will soon come to know the boy as Sehun and he is one of the more tolerable models he knows, despite his indifferent expressions and monotonous voice.
Hate is a strong word, but after that encounter, Yixing treats every model with a great deal of contempt if not indifference.
Yixing finds himself facing the same situation as he feels himself being dragged out of his reverie with a tap on his shoulder from Luhan. His best friend gestures towards the two familiar faces standing a few metres away, but Yixing is transfixed on the unfamiliar boy beside them with soft looking hair and eyes that seem to shift through every shade of brown within a second - the boy he will come to know as Jongin, and he is nothing Yixing expects him to be.
***
Junmyeon’s autumn launch party lends itself as an excuse for Yixing to drown himself in liquor. The drink burns its way down his throat before settling in his stomach, warmth unfurling. Yixing stumbles through the night alone, with the weight of his discontent on his shoulders, and his feet dragging across the floor. He delivers smiles and nods to every compliment and acknowledgment sent his way - “congratulations” and “good work” - but they're all empty words to him. They mean nothing if he’s not content with his own work. Because it’s about impressing yourself and not others, never others, Yixing thinks.
The night's atmosphere shifts and changes, as does Yixing’s mood and his balance on his own two feet. At a certain point during the night, Junmyeon proposes a toast to the success of his new line and also to Yixing.
“And to the talented Yixing, who choreographed the opening act, and the show’s music!” He is being pushed to the front, drink sloshing in his glass and reluctance clinging to his bones. Junmyeon slings an arm around his shoulder despite being shorter, with a flute of champagne in his other hand and leads by finishing his drink in one go. The corners of Yixing’s lips tug upwards on their own accord, as he gives Junmyeon a soft 'thank you' before he, too, gulps down his drink- relishing in the burn, before vanishing into the crowd.
Luhan’s not by his side today, and although this is a regular occurrence, Yixing will never get used to it. Luhan isn’t here to fill in the silence, he isn’t here to smile on Yixing’s behalf. He feels himself losing touch - he’s suffocating in a room full of people. Yixing’s mind swirls and topples. He finds himself escaping to the balcony, as the cool wind greets him and caresses his skin, playing with his hair.
"Hey," a soft voice sounds beside his ear. Yixing spins around on his heel and he is met with shocks of brown hair and a shy smile. Jongin. The boy is in a thin sweater that hangs loosely from his frame, and he shifts uncomfortably between his feet as he clears his throat. They've never met - not formally. It doesn't count when all Luhan did last time was shove Yixing in front of Yifan and Zitao, only to ask them if they have seen Sehun - not even sparing Jongin a glance when he's the real reason they are here.
Love-rival Jongin. The Jongin who, up until then, was just another model Yixing felt indifferent towards. Jongin’s just another boy who is pretty for the eyes, but maybe not for the heart. But right now, Yixing’s world is thrown off balance when the shy smile on Jongin’s face is laced with sincerity and, those oceans of browns that swirl in his eyes seem to hold deep secrets and stories. Yixing is annoyed.
Jongin shoves his hands deep into his jeans as he bounces on the balls of his feet, eyes looking anywhere but at Yixing. Yixing almost misses the soft cough that escapes Jongin’s lips as the wind blows around them, the air whispering with a gentleness Yixing thinks an autumn night shouldn't have.
“You look like you have something you want to say."
The boy finally looks at Yixing. "I loved the opening act - the choreography. It was entrancing. How do you do it?" Jongin gushes. Yixing blinks, once then twice then clears his throat because he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know what to think of Jongin’s genuine adoration that brims from his eyes and bleeds through his voice. Doesn't know what to think of the stuttering of his own heart, the sweating of his palms.
"Um," Yixing begins, voice stuck in his throat. "It's nothing special. In fact, I don't really like it." Yixing reels. I don't really like anything I create. He doesn't understand why he tells Jongin this - a complete stranger. Why he lets his insecurities claw out of his mouth, exposed for the world to see. For Jongin to see.
"No, hyung," - Hyung, how did he know? Hyung? - “I used to dance and I know a good performance when I see one," Jongin presses on, fingers fidgeting and hair messy as the wind dances with the soft strands of silk.
"Who are you?" Yixing plays pretend - pretends that he doesn't know Jongin, pretends that he doesn't know the way the molten browns in Jongin’s eyes shift with every passing moment. Pretends that he doesn't know the curve of his nose, and his lips, and his throat - pretends that he hasn't noticed all this because they don't know each other yet. Not formally. Yixing pretends that the irregular beating of his heart doesn't mean anything.
"Kim Jongin. I'm a model," Jongin says with a lilt in his voice, oblivious to the pause in Yixing’s breathing, or the quickening of his pulse. I know, Yixing thinks. But Jongin is oblivious - he doesn’t know that Yixing already knows his name. It’s okay, Yixing thinks. After all, they don’t know each other yet.
“Never seen you before. Are you new?” There are a million things Yixing wants to say but he chokes on his words and swallows them, words burning down his throat. Jongin, you have the prettiest eyes. Yixing fixes Jongin with a dull look as he watches the boy walk towards him, before he leans over the balcony, his eyes searching for the stars.
Jongin doesn't reply. Yixing is okay with that. He stands beside Jongin and lets the wind howl and the trees rustle. Let's his heart beat thunder in his ears. But Yixing doesn't let his walls crumble or his heart open. Jongin’s just a pretty face.
"I used to dance. But I model now. Injured waist." Yixing watches the way Jongin’s lips move when he speaks and watches the way his eyebrows knot together. He watches the strands of Jongin’s hair fall into his eyes and the way Jongin swallows after he speaks, mouth parting to let a sigh escape. Yixing watches as his own resolve starts to crumble because Jongin is telling a story and Yixing is irrevocably hooked. Jongin’s a dancer. Was a dancer.
"Why are you telling me this?"
The boy shrugs, head tilting, lips protruding. Yixing watches as Jongin finds the right words to tell Yixing, eyes desperate, almost like he's asking the stars for an answer.
"You remind me of when I used dance, that's all." The words hang between them, heavy in a way almost like how a confession is supposed to be. But this isn't a confession, just Jongin telling a story. Just Jongin lodging himself into every crack of Yixing’s bones. Jongin’s just a pretty face.
Jongin’s just a pretty face but the depths of the oceans in Jongin’s eyes shift to prove as if he is something else - something more.
-
“No offense,” Yixing glances at Jongin briefly. “But models are the dullest people I’ve met - even if they used to be dancers.”
“Spend more time with me, and you’ll like me better, hyung,” Jongin says, eyes sincere and hopeful. Yixing zones out for a bit. He thinks Jongin is impossible - nothing good can come from this. Yixing thinks his heart is going to fall out. But he doesn’t tell Jongin.
“If I’m high enough I might like you,” Yixing leans in to tell the boy over the pounding of his own heart, doubt coursing through his veins. When he pulls back, the moonlight is hitting Jongin’s delicate face at impossible angles, shadows dancing across his cheekbones and nose. Yixing feels his heart slow as Jongin’s eyes light up, crinkling at the sides as he smiles and takes Yixing gently by his wrist.
“Let’s go then.”
-
The world swirls around Yixing. He can barely register the earth beneath his feet that gently slopes into a hill, a wide expanse of mowed grass ahead of him. It is not beautiful but Yixing thinks otherwise, with the melody of the night’s song wrapping around him, and the tendrils of the cold night digging its way into his bones. Jongin is beside him, his warmth the only thing signalling his presence. They walk through complete darkness, comfortable with being hidden amongst the night - Yixing can barely make out the silhouette of a line of trees in the distance.
Collapsing on the soft grass with a sigh, Yixing pulls an unsteady Jongin down with him. The boy yelps in surprise and falls conveniently pressed against Yixing as they lie next to each other, eyes cast towards the star-littered sky. Yixing’s brain is going haywire - the world eddies, his senses on overdrive. He can hear Jongin’s soft breathing as Jongin drinks in the mesmerising night. He can smell the smoke and alcohol from the party on Jongin, and he can feel every inch of Jongin’s arm pressed against his - warmth radiating and chasing away the cold in Yixing’s bones.
Beside him, Jongin breathes a gentle sigh and closes his eyes, delicate eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Yixing wants to map every inch of Jongin's skin in notes and melodies, wants to watch his own pale fingers dance a choreography against Jongin's honey skin - the contrast of their skin tones etched behind his eyelids. But Yixing does none of that, hands lying still by his side, but his mind still wanders.
"Jongin-ah, do you know stars are only meteor rocks on fire?" Yixing blurts out, unsure of what he is saying. His mind is dulled from the weed but he thinks he can make something beautiful and poetic out of this moment.
From the corner of his eye, Yixing sees Jongin’s lips tilt up into a small smile, eyes still closed and still so beautiful.
"But they're beautiful even in their self-destruction," gushes Jongin, eyes fluttering open to gaze at the star fields before turning to face Yixing. "That's brilliant, isn't it?" It’s too early to say, but Yixing may think Jongin is the most brilliant of them all.
Jongin shifts so his entire body angles towards Yixing, head resting on his arm, his cheeks turning pink from the cold of the night. Yixing runs his eyes across every feature of Jongin’s face, his throat constricting and his mind fogging up again. Yixing understands that he is letting himself fly too close to the sun. That he is letting himself get attached and unravelled by a boy with soft hair and bright eyes. But Yixing never had an ounce of self-preservation within him to begin with; he figures he can give this a chance. Maybe this time, he’ll give it a chance.
His mind is absent when he feels Jongin snuggling closer, their shoulders and arms touching as Jongin lies flat on his back again, his head falling close to Yixing’s shoulder. “Hyung, its getting cold, isn’t it?” comes the soft voice and Yixing wants to disagree. No, it’s not. Because Yixing feels himself warm from within inside, feels his whole body lighting up from every inch of his skin that is pressed against Jongin’s.
“It’s a nice cold,” is all Yixing manages as his puffs out little clouds of white, mind reeling. He’s wrong for thinking it’ll be easier to talk to Jongin, to get to know Jongin while under the influence. Yixing is wrong for letting the oceans of browns in Jongin’s eyes draw him in; he is wrong for letting the innocence of Jongin embrace his entire core, flooding his mind and breaking him down from within. Jongin is beautiful though - Yixing is right about that at least.
“Dance for me,” comes the sudden request from Jongin. The ends of his fingers tingle, and Yixing clenches his hands into fists to stop the sensation. The blood coursing through his veins sings with joy at Jongin’s request but Yixing wants this to be perfect. Not now. This isn't going to be perfect. Not on this hill, not with the cannabis engulfing Yixing’s senses. He's walking on air.
This isn't going to be beautiful (like Jongin). This isn't going to be perfect (like Jongin).
"Hyung?" Jongin’s lovely voice drowns out all of Yixing’s demons. "Are you going to dance for me?" Yixing turns his head and meets Jongin’s expectant gaze, brown orbs reflecting Yixing’s insecurities. The boy is sniffling, cute nose turning red due to the cold of the night, white clouds escaping his lips as he breathes through his mouth softly. Yixing cannot refuse this.
Yixing stands up and shakes his limbs, before he removes his coat and hands it to Jongin who is now sitting up, knees under his chin as he tries to keep warm. Jongin drapes Yixing’s coat over his body with a smile like a kid receiving candy and Yixing feels the ground unsteady beneath him again. Or maybe he's just losing his balance.
Yixing dances with a fluidity and ease to a melody that plays in his head, complete with the whispers of the wind and the soft breathing he can still hear from Jongin. He switches his mind off and executes impeccable footwork and sharp moves, panting as the rhythm of his breathing gets disrupted when he catches sight of those brown orbs drinking in his every move. The air around him crackles with energy as he stomps and twirls to the one-two-three-fours in his mind and finishes with unconstrained passion painting his movement in his wake.
Yixing feels Jongin’s burning gaze on him and clears his throat before settling back down next to the boy, silent. He is still gasping for air, lungs expanding with each gulp as he closes his eyes and flops onto the grass. The image of Jongin’s expression while watching him dance is burned into the back of his eyelids; Yixing jerks his eyes open, still gasping for air but for another reason. Jongin’s look of admiration. Jongin’s look of absolute appreciation. Yixing doesn't want that. Yixing is afraid.
The adrenaline and hype oozes out of Yixing’s body as he steadies his breathing - steadies his heart. Jongin hasn't said anything but Jongin’s eyes speaks a thousand words and Yixing thinks he knows what Jongin would say. Inhale, exhale. Yixing’s breathing resumes its regular rhythm but he feels short of air. Perhaps his heart is expanding every moment Jongin floods his mind - expanding until he can't breathe. Or maybe it's just the cannabis and the high after dancing. Yixing doesn't know, doesn't care.
The clouds are drifting low tonight, racing across the night sky as the winds chase behind them. Yixing feels like if he reaches up, he will be able to touch them. Droopy eyes, foggy mind - Yixing nearly misses the slide of Jongin’s hands into his, palm against his, fingers intertwining. Jongin’s fingers curl into the spaces between his and suddenly, it's like puzzle pieces coming together - they fit so perfectly.
Yixing is overwhelmed by the contact, by the warmth of Jongin’s hands, by Jongin. He is overwhelmed by the contrast of Jongin’s caramel skin against his pale ones and Yixing reels when Jongin squeezes his hand in reassurance. Yixing is overwhelmed when Jongin brushes a lingering kiss against his hand, his eyes crinkling and his smile blinding.
Jongin’s smile lodges itself right underneath his heart and Yixing’s chest constricts. What are you doing, Jongin? Yixing wants to ask, but when Jongin closes his eyes and brings their joined palms to rest on his chest, erratic heartbeat thundering through the thin material of his sweater - Yixing is quiet. Yixing doesn't ask. Instead, he holds onto Jongin’s hand tighter, easy smile stretching across his face as he stares at Jongin who is glowing as brightly as the brightest star in the sky.
***
The late morning sunlight filters through the curtains of the room, painting the walls in streaks of light. Yixing opens his eyes blearily and blinks away the sleep, eyes glazed and head tickling with a weird sensation. The room is unfamiliar; ceiling too high, floor too clean. Judging by the artworks hanging on the far wall, Yixing decides he is in one of Junmyeon’s guest rooms. (The abstract artworks are a dead giveaway). He is still in his button down, jeans crumpled and his sweater is tossed onto the armchair in the corner. Yixing spots two painkillers on the bedside table and a glass of water but decides against it - his stomach aching for food.
Yixing pads barefoot out onto the hallway, following the smell of coffee and breakfast. He hears clatter from the kitchen and a low tune being hummed - ears picking up on the varying highs and lows of the melody. As he approaches, he definitely smells fried eggs and maybe bacon - and it's definitely brewed tea and not coffee. His sense of smell is probably still hindered from the effects of last night.
What Yixing doesn't expect is Jongin, still in his thin sweater and black jeans, to be moving his body to the tune he hums. His hips swaying and arms flexing at lazy angles, moving with a grace that leaves Yixing enthralled. Jongin’s movements are a display of raw passion, his muscles stretching to strike every move with utmost perfection. Yixing sees Jongin dance like his whole being depended on it - even if he is doing this absentmindedly. Yixing wants to see more. He wants to see Jongin pour his heart and mind into the twirl of his body and angle of his limbs. He wants to see Jongin tell a story through the ever-shifting expression that decorates his face. He wants to see Jongin let himself go.
Yixing wants to see how alive Jongin looks while he dances.
***
"Tell me everything," gushes Luhan as he slides into the booth opposite of Yixing, Americano in his hands. Yixing snuggles into the warmth of his scarf and fixes a menacing gaze on Luhan before he calmly takes a sip from his latte. Luhan whines at Yixing’s unrelenting silence and kicks him under the table.
"You're a thing now, right?" Luhan presses on, eyes gleaming with excitement, fingers gripping his beverage nervously. Yixing hides his smile behind his drink before he retaliates and kicks Luhan under the table, but Luhan expertly dodges it, pride shining in his eyes as he smirks and laughs.
"Luhan, go away," shoots Yixing, sighing exasperatedly, his voice rises an octave higher as he whines, droopy eyes pleading. Luhan just laughs.
Yixing feels the urge to throw something at his best friend and narrows his eyes. "Please leave. Jongin’s coming soon."
"Which is why I am staying." Luhan’s sweet voice sounds piercing to Yixing’s ears. "Because you won't tell me if you're a thing so I'll ask Jongin."
Luhan is surprised when Yixing suddenly gets out of his chair suddenly and forcibly pushes him out of the cafe, causing a commotion, with every pair of eyes in the cafe focused on the two. His best friend yelps when Yixing shoves his Americano into his hands and closes the door in his face, eyes gleaming with the threat to destroy Luhan when he gets home. Luhan leaves without another word, fear lining his eyes as he dashes away, an apology barely leaving his lips.
When Yixing returns to his seat, a fresh cup of latte sits waiting for him and he glances up to see Minseok nodding at him from the counter, eyes acknowledging how annoying Luhan can be. Yixing gives his thanks by nodding and cups the warm beverage between his hands.
The cafe bustles with activity and the soft morning chatter calms Yixing’s nerves down. He watches the flow of people outside, scurrying on with their lives. He watches as the light snowflakes pirouette down from the sky to dot the city in specks of white. And he waits. He waits for soft brown hair and honey skin, and those eyes - orbs that continue to shift through every shade of brown despite the cooling weather, despite whatever is going on in the world. Yixing waits for Jongin with a fluttering heart and his insides churning.
The bell chimes to signal the arrival of a new customer and Yixing looks up from his coffee just in time to catch brown orbs searching the cafe with a calm Yixing would never have, before locking eyes with his. Jongin face lights up, a summer’s smile amidst the winter, as he walks towards Yixing with a spring in his step.
"You look like an assassin," Yixing remarks to Jongin, who is dressed head to toe in black - a trench coat hugging his lean body and long legs accentuated with tight black jeans and combat boots.
"You look very handsome yourself too, hyung," the shy compliment leaves Jongin’s lips as he chuckles and sits down opposite of Yixing.
Yixing’s stomach does a somersault when Jongin looks up and simply stares at him, eyes intense, as he watches Yixing sip calmly on his drink. He nearly splutters when Jongin shifts under the table, long legs extending and traps one of Yixing’s ankles between the two of his, and leans in close, voice low.
"Why did you want to see me, hyung?" Jongin asks, his voice confident but smudged with a tinge of shyness. Yixing gets lost in the swirling pools of browns in Jongin’s eyes as he digs through his brain for an answer. He's sure there was a purpose for this meeting but his brain isn't cooperating when he's fighting for his life as he drowns in Jongin’s eyes. Yixing was never a good swimmer.
"Oh. Um, Jongin? I have a new composition and I wanted you to perform it. To see how it looks."
Yixing leaves the unsaid words hanging from his mouth, and dangling from his heart. Because this was composed because of you. For you. It was composed with the lines of your body in mind. This is your dance.
Jongin visibly stills, face a blank mask, and he shifts back, eyes the darkest brown Yixing has ever seen them. His lips are pressed into a thin line and his brows are furrowed. "No, hyung. I can't. I don't dance anymore."
Yixing doesn't bring up the topic again.
***
"Jongin," Yixing’s sweet drawn out voice cracks the silence between them but the soundtrack of daybreak continue to fill their ears - birds chirping and winds whispering. Yixing turns to stare at Jongin, who hasn't moved an inch since they came up to the rooftop of Yixing’s apartment - eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones as if he is still in a dream. The crisp morning air fills Yixing with a freshness that he craves and Jongin’s warmth beside him is the familiarity that Yixing needs.
Jongin blinks and looks at Yixing with overflowing affection before he turns to face the fiery sky. He brings their clasped hands, palm against palm, fingers fitting into the space of each other's, up in front of him to point at the looming dawn that chases away the mysterious navy of the night and lights the sky up in the fiercest brilliance.
Yixing relishes in the press of their palms together and the sunrise reflected in Jongin’s ocean of browns as the boy’s breath is taken away by the beautiful dawn in front of him. Yixing’s breath is taken away by Jongin. The effortlessly soft laugh that spills from Jongin’s lips as he squints when the sun is shining into his eyes is a symphony to Yixing’s ears. The boyish smile that adorns Jongin’s face sends Yixing tumbling through a bottomless pit as his heart falls out from under him, giving way for a strange curling emotion that settles familiarly at the bottom of his stomach. Jongin Jongin Jongin. The seasons have passed the both of them, cementing memories in their timeframes, but Yixing will never really get used to how Jongin makes him feel. He will never get used to how his feelings consume him and how he suffocates under Jongin’s unwavering adoration and undeniable affection.
Yixing tugs their clasped hands and places them over his chest, right over his heart, right over where it matters and closes his eyes. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat seeps through his skin and bones, and the many layers of clothes he is wearing this autumn - strong and loud. Yixing still falters every time he stares into Jongin’s brown orbs, or when their hands slide effortlessly together, or when Jongin whispers litanies of “I love you’s” that fall sweetly from smiling lips. Yixing still falters, but Yixing’s heart has grown accustomed to Jongin’s presence over time, beating a steady rhythm that never falters - just like the way Yixing never stutters, never hesitates to say "I love you too" to Jongin in reply.
"Dance for me," Yixing says to Jongin, reminiscent of the first time they met. Jongin’s eyes widen in surprise, but Yixing can spot the slight beginnings of a smile on Jongin’s lips, which purse as if he is deep in thought. Yixing holds his breath, the steady tempo of his heart beat thundering in his ears.
Yixing’s mind is swimming with Jongin Jongin Jongin, when brown eyes come closer, long lashes fluttering nervously against his cheekbone as Jongin glances down towards Yixing’s lips, the ghost of a smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.
A soft press of lips against Yixing’s own makes his heart leap into his throat and his pulse stutters when Jongin thumbs at the inside of his wrist. Jongin kisses him, shy and hesitant, and tightens his grip on their joint hands - the pressure of their linked hands keeping Yixing anchored. Jongin kisses him softly - reverently - and makes Yixing’s insides churn.
"Okay," Jongin says, breaks the kiss. Yixing leans in and presses their foreheads together, pulse accelerating and smile dazzling. The grin on Jongin’s face rivals all the smiles Yixing has collected and placed underneath his heart for the past year, even outshining the rising star that brings morning light to the world every day. A small giggle spills from Jongin’s lips, his eyes speaking volumes as he gazes at Yixing who also bursts into giggles, shyly ducking his head to hide his reddening face.
"Is this your first time, hyung?" Jongin whispers softly, eyes gleaming with a playfulness Yixing is already used to. The boy blinks at Yixing, awaiting an answer. The older male simply nods, bashful smile threatening to turn into giggles again as he covers his face with his two hands. This is so embarrassing, he thinks.
Jongin’s laugh is unrestrained, head thrown back, his eyes forming crescents. Yixing commits Jongin’s laugh, and Jongin’s silhouette against the brilliant backdrop of the sun rising over the Seoul skyline to memory, locking it somewhere deep within himself. Yixing likes to think that this laugh is only for him, Jongin, completely carefree and vulnerable, stripped bare for the world to see. Emotions brimming and on display. No facade and no masks. This is Jongin in all his purest innocence.
Jongin stands in front of Yixing, both hands grasping his, back against the daylight and smiles lovingly at Yixing, eyes brimming with affection.
"Watch me, hyung. I only dance for you."
***
Spring.
Jongin has a habit of blending his words together and Yixing struggles to hear the boy’s question over the light breeze and bustling traffic on a spring morning. They are walking alongside the Han River, shoulders bumping casually into each other, fingers brushing.
“Hyung, I asked, what do you like about me?” Jongin repeats the question, hair tangling in the breeze and eyes glistening with anticipation.
Yixing tucks his hands into his pockets, side-eyeing Jongin as he walks ahead, ignoring the question and leaving the boy behind. There’s a tap on his shoulder, and two hands spinning him around. Yixing finds himself in a handful of Jongin who grabs at his face and stares intently into his eyes, brown orbs wide with determination, the question dancing within them.
“Nothing,” Yixing deadpans, removing Jongin’s hands away from his face and he continues walking, the wind softly blowing against his face. Fingers cold, cheeks flushing, heart pounding.
I love the effortlessly boyish nature that clings to you. Everything about you is simply soft-spoken and beautiful.
Yixing doesn’t say it, because Jongin already knows. Yixing tells him through the embraces, the easy slide of their hands coming together, through their dancing, and through the gentle press of their lips against each other’s. Jongin already knows - since day one.
“Let’s get out of here, Jongin.”
“Where to?” The boy questions, long legs matching the pace of Yixing’s shorter ones as they walk side by side, hands gliding together.
Anywhere. I just want to start anew. With you.
When they leave, Yixing leaves everything behind but the swelling in his chest whenever Jongin smiles at him, hands never letting go of the boy - unsure of the road ahead but positive it’s where they should be going, as long as Jongin is there beside him.
-结束-
By: Anonymous until reveals
Title: gravity will always win (so i'm falling for you)
Rating: R
Length: 7000
Warnings: drug use, alcohol
Notes: Thank you to A for the general hand-holding and ensuring my sanity throughout the duration of this exchange. Many thanks to my lovely group of betas who tore this fic apart so I could piece it back together the right way. To my recipient, I really hope you can enjoy this piece even though I feel like I did your prompts injustice and that this is so insufficient. Sorry. Title from Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees". Playlist for the fic can be found here.
Summary: Jongin's just another boy who is pretty for the eyes, but maybe not for the heart. Yixing could be wrong though.
Yixing trudges through the haze of smoke that clouds his mind, trying to shake away his cluttered consciousness and understand his surroundings. The cheap strobe lights flicker chaotically and Yixing closes his eyes and curses - dizzying spells in full gear as he makes a reminder to tell Baekhyun to buy new lights if he’s going to have any more decent parties.
His skin is prickling, his senses are numb. He loses himself again but manages to stumble over a very drunk Sehun in all his long-legged glory on the floor, which drags his barely-there soul back into his body. Stay, stay, stay - Yixing tells himself. His eyelids flutter, his throat is parched.
Amidst the smoke and haze, he spots a mop of brown hair and sparkling doe eyes. Yixing drags his languid body over to Luhan, who is laughing away happily with Jongdae, oblivious to his glassy-eyed best friend. Yixing doesn’t miss the lingering hand that slides down Jongdae’s arm even in his disoriented state.
“Luhan, can you bring me some water? I’m coming down,” Yixing taps his best friend’s shoulder. Luhan’s eyes shift from amused to worried and back to amused again because this is not something he’s not used to.
“Weed any good?” Luhan asks, shifting his attention to Yixing whose soul seems to be flitting in and out of his body. He is unsteady on his feet as his vision doubles, then triples and turns into a blurry photo.
“Can’t expect much from strangers,” his voice is slow and drawn out, eyes barely open. “At least it was free,” Yixing adds, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to let out a sigh. The world stops turning for a moment, the music is drowned out. Yixing looks completely at bliss and Luhan looks at him with frantic amusement.
“Amen to that,” Luhan’s soft laugh is melodious, his eyes crinkling and hands clapping Yixing’s shoulder. Yixing loses his balance and grabs onto Luhan whose chin is now disappearing into his neck from laughter. It’s been like this for years - Yixing tripping and stumbling through his life and Luhan is there, always ready to catch him. This is what best friends are for, Yixing thinks. It’s a wonder Luhan is still here after all the times Yixing tears himself apart and refuses to be put back together. ‘Creative depression’, Luhan calls it, even though he and Yixing perfectly know that it is just the self-destructive way Yixing is living.
Yixing feels an unfortunate sensation that is the throbbing beat of the bass as his senses start recovering. He absently overhears Luhan asking Jongdae to fetch him a glass of water. Luhan guides a dazed Yixing to a nearby couch and shoos the other partygoers away until they have the entire couch to themselves. His head is in Luhan’s lap and the rest of his body drapes haphazardly over the couch. Yixing’s world tips as Luhan shifts uncomfortably to dig something out his pockets and hands it to Yixing. He eyes the two white tablets in his hands, skeptical of what they are.
“Pain killers,” Luhan says, slapping Yixing gently across the head. “I don’t leave the house without them, especially if you’re going to be floating in the fifth dimension.” Yixing is grateful, really. But he doesn’t say anything to Luhan because some things don’t need to be said to be understood. Yixing spots Jongdae returning so he sits up - the world spins slowly, spectrums of colours melting together. Yixing politely thanks Jongdae for the water and swallows the two tablets.
“Luhan, can you please move over so I can -”
“You can leave now, Jongdae,” comes the short reply. Yixing feels like throwing something into Jongdae’s mouth as it hangs open in disbelief. The angelic smile on Luhan’s face doesn’t falter as Jongdae curses, laughing bitterly before he moves away. Yixing laughs softly.
“Harsh,” he says, sidling up to Luhan again as he waits for the painkillers to kick in. Luhan hooks an arm around Yixing’s neck, dragging him over and laughing.
“I’m not carrying around painkillers for you anymore,” Luhan threatens, aggressively ruffling Yixing’s hair, his laugh like the Devil’s. Yixing complains and pushes Luhan away.
“Jongdae likes you.” Yixing teases. His best friend doesn’t object but looks away instead, feigning disinterest. “Don’t act like you don’t like the attention, Luhan.” Luhan’s bubble bursts, and Yixing is thinking of Luhan’s lingering hand earlier when suddenly he finds himself in a headlock again, the two of them laughing.
“Shut up, I like Sehun.”
Yixing scoffs, earning a slap from Luhan. Yixing is continuously amazed at Luhan’s ability to give and receive affection while Yixing himself is struggling to destroy the permanent grey cloud in his mind - a storm cloud of swirling emotions that suffocates him. He doesn’t feel alive.
“Sehun likes Jongin.” Luhan randomly continues, voice soft with a tinge of annoyance. It takes Yixing a while to process this information, as he plays with his fingers - his thoughts barely anchored to himself.
Who the fuck is Jongin?
“Who the fuck is Jongin?” Yixing shuffles closer, interest piquing. Unbelievable, he thinks. Someone has the attention of the resident brick wall, Oh Sehun.
“New blood,” Luhan rolls his eyes. “Junmyeon paired him up with Sehun for a photoshoot. Very sexy, apparently. Actually, I think he’s at this party.”
Yixing is still very shocked and even though his headache is ebbing away slowly, his brain floats somewhere else.
“Yeah, Sehun talks about his toned body and honey eyes or whatever. It’s really fucking annoying.” Luhan whines. Yixing’s brain does a double flip as instances of Luhan gushing about Sehun flash before his eyes. Sehun, whose perfect body poses in just the right angles for Luhan’s camera, whose milk white skin creates a perfect contrast with the backdrop. His piercing gaze. Sehun is my muse, Luhan says. Yixing fights the urge to throw up.
Yixing notes the disdain in Luhan’s voice but it quickly disappears as Luhan pulls him up from the couch, eyes sparkling with excitement and challenge. Yixing still feels light-headed, pain killers only kicking in now. Yixing isn’t really interested in Luhan’s love rival, especially since he’s only returned from a field trip in the clouds. But he owes it to Luhan for the pain killers (and for everything else), to at least be a decent friend even if it feels like his head is about to rip itself apart, and his limbs feeling like jelly.
“He’s probably with his model clique,” Luhan clicks his tongue, pulling Yixing along by his sleeve. “Maybe Sehun is with them.”
Yixing contemplates telling his best friend that Sehun is smashed and probably being trampled all over on the other side of the house but decides against it because finding this Jongin person would probably require less effort than dragging a 181cm tall deadweight out of his own froth.
Yixing hums and Luhan drags him through the mingling crowd, eyes busily searching, feet moving. Yixing tries his best to keep up, but the world swirls into a spectrum of colour, his vision blurs - and his head is throbbing.
-
Luhan trips over his own feet as he excitedly exclaims to Yixing that he has found love-rival Jongin and pushes Yixing along in front of him. Yixing’s headache has dulled down to about forty-percent but the world is still a bit slow and - holy shit Luhan stop pushing me I’m going to crash into Junmyeon.
“Woah,” Junmyeon shifts aside, brows knotting together. “What’s the hurry?”
Luhan moves out from behind Yixing and stares at Junmyeon dead in the eye, pointer finger jabbing away at Junmyeon’s chest. Junmyeon looks obviously confused. Luhan has soft features and sparkly eyes, but he can be very scary.
Luhan narrows his eyes. “Move. Or I’m going to kick your ass after I kick Jongin’s.” Junmyeon steps back and clears his throat while brushing down his button-down, looking very unfazed all of a sudden.
“Yixing-ah?” The smile on Junmyeon’s face looks about as sincere as a tiger ready to attack, and the hand on Luhan’s shoulder isn’t really a comforting gesture. “Maybe Luhan’s getting tired of his job? Maybe we can hire a new photographer, what do you think?”
Junmyeon nods and walks away, and Yixing shakes his head. Luhan never learns.
“You just fucked around with a prickly cactus,” Yixing drawls, walking past Luhan who is still rooted in place. Yixing's mind clears up a bit after that entertaining exchange and he hums a soft tune under his breath, fingers unconsciously dancing on his thigh. Luhan walks beside him, muttering, as they approach an intimidating group of tall people mingling together, keeping to themselves.
Yixing spots the familiar faces of Yifan and Zitao and groans. His best friend simply urges him to keep moving, despite having complete knowledge of where Yixing stands when it comes to arrogant models. Luhan must really want Yixing to meet this Jongin but sadly, Yixing just wants to avoid this situation. If the smug looks on Yifan and Zitao’s faces mean anything, he presumes the two model pricks aren’t much different from their last encounter. Yixing drags a hand across his face and imagines the Jongin boy won’t be any different.
Yixing remembers the first time he meets the models that Junmyeon had scouted a year back. Heads held high, long legs and smug grins decorating their pretty faces. Junmyeon’s launching party was exclusive, some models and close friends gathering together to congratulate on his successful launch of a modelling agency.
While Luhan darts around the room greeting everyone and forms “meaningful” connections, Yixing manages to get by the night with sincere smiles and curt nods. But it isn’t a party if Luhan doesn’t settle his eye on someone. Yixing finds himself stumbling after Luhan whose tongue is barely in his mouth and soon they are standing in the presence of three men with piercing gazes and towering heights.
“Hi!” Luhan exclaims, and Yixing nearly rolls his eyes while his stomach curls. His eyes drift to anywhere but to the three men in front of him. He really wishes he had downed a few more drinks, because he’s definitely too sober for uncomfortable encounters like this. A nudge from Luhan is all he needs before Yixing introduces himself with a fake smile and firm handshakes.
“Zhang Yixing. Composer and choreographer. I’m Junmyeon’s friend from college.” A curt nod, and he thinks he’s done talking for the night. Melodies fill Yixing’s brain as he zones out of conversation, quavers and trills dancing across his mind as he decorates his masterpiece with sharp dance moves. Yixing is ready to leave Luhan’s side for another drink when a deep voice filters through his beautifully crafted melody and shatters his vision.
“Will you be working with Junmyeon? I can’t imagine what a composer or choreographer would be of any use though,” comes the short remark, voice laced with snark. Yixing glares at the man in front of him. Tall and handsome with sharp eyebrows and an even sharper gaze; full lips that curl at the sides and a perfectly angled nose.
The rude stranger goes by the name of Wu Yifan. Beside him, a giggly shorter blonde latches onto Yifan's side, pretty eyes piercing through Yixing. That’s Zitao. He leans up and whispers something in the taller man’s ear and they both chuckle, eyes glancing every now and then to Luhan and then to Yixing. He feels like disintegrating and decides he'll walk away. He notices that Luhan doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to the two, but rather to a young boy who stands a little bit far off from the other two, sipping quietly on juice. Still underage, Yixing guesses. Luhan is captivated. The boy has long legs and tousled ash blonde hair that falls prettily over his sleepy eyes. Yixing will soon come to know the boy as Sehun and he is one of the more tolerable models he knows, despite his indifferent expressions and monotonous voice.
Hate is a strong word, but after that encounter, Yixing treats every model with a great deal of contempt if not indifference.
Yixing finds himself facing the same situation as he feels himself being dragged out of his reverie with a tap on his shoulder from Luhan. His best friend gestures towards the two familiar faces standing a few metres away, but Yixing is transfixed on the unfamiliar boy beside them with soft looking hair and eyes that seem to shift through every shade of brown within a second - the boy he will come to know as Jongin, and he is nothing Yixing expects him to be.
***
Junmyeon’s autumn launch party lends itself as an excuse for Yixing to drown himself in liquor. The drink burns its way down his throat before settling in his stomach, warmth unfurling. Yixing stumbles through the night alone, with the weight of his discontent on his shoulders, and his feet dragging across the floor. He delivers smiles and nods to every compliment and acknowledgment sent his way - “congratulations” and “good work” - but they're all empty words to him. They mean nothing if he’s not content with his own work. Because it’s about impressing yourself and not others, never others, Yixing thinks.
The night's atmosphere shifts and changes, as does Yixing’s mood and his balance on his own two feet. At a certain point during the night, Junmyeon proposes a toast to the success of his new line and also to Yixing.
“And to the talented Yixing, who choreographed the opening act, and the show’s music!” He is being pushed to the front, drink sloshing in his glass and reluctance clinging to his bones. Junmyeon slings an arm around his shoulder despite being shorter, with a flute of champagne in his other hand and leads by finishing his drink in one go. The corners of Yixing’s lips tug upwards on their own accord, as he gives Junmyeon a soft 'thank you' before he, too, gulps down his drink- relishing in the burn, before vanishing into the crowd.
Luhan’s not by his side today, and although this is a regular occurrence, Yixing will never get used to it. Luhan isn’t here to fill in the silence, he isn’t here to smile on Yixing’s behalf. He feels himself losing touch - he’s suffocating in a room full of people. Yixing’s mind swirls and topples. He finds himself escaping to the balcony, as the cool wind greets him and caresses his skin, playing with his hair.
"Hey," a soft voice sounds beside his ear. Yixing spins around on his heel and he is met with shocks of brown hair and a shy smile. Jongin. The boy is in a thin sweater that hangs loosely from his frame, and he shifts uncomfortably between his feet as he clears his throat. They've never met - not formally. It doesn't count when all Luhan did last time was shove Yixing in front of Yifan and Zitao, only to ask them if they have seen Sehun - not even sparing Jongin a glance when he's the real reason they are here.
Love-rival Jongin. The Jongin who, up until then, was just another model Yixing felt indifferent towards. Jongin’s just another boy who is pretty for the eyes, but maybe not for the heart. But right now, Yixing’s world is thrown off balance when the shy smile on Jongin’s face is laced with sincerity and, those oceans of browns that swirl in his eyes seem to hold deep secrets and stories. Yixing is annoyed.
Jongin shoves his hands deep into his jeans as he bounces on the balls of his feet, eyes looking anywhere but at Yixing. Yixing almost misses the soft cough that escapes Jongin’s lips as the wind blows around them, the air whispering with a gentleness Yixing thinks an autumn night shouldn't have.
“You look like you have something you want to say."
The boy finally looks at Yixing. "I loved the opening act - the choreography. It was entrancing. How do you do it?" Jongin gushes. Yixing blinks, once then twice then clears his throat because he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know what to think of Jongin’s genuine adoration that brims from his eyes and bleeds through his voice. Doesn't know what to think of the stuttering of his own heart, the sweating of his palms.
"Um," Yixing begins, voice stuck in his throat. "It's nothing special. In fact, I don't really like it." Yixing reels. I don't really like anything I create. He doesn't understand why he tells Jongin this - a complete stranger. Why he lets his insecurities claw out of his mouth, exposed for the world to see. For Jongin to see.
"No, hyung," - Hyung, how did he know? Hyung? - “I used to dance and I know a good performance when I see one," Jongin presses on, fingers fidgeting and hair messy as the wind dances with the soft strands of silk.
"Who are you?" Yixing plays pretend - pretends that he doesn't know Jongin, pretends that he doesn't know the way the molten browns in Jongin’s eyes shift with every passing moment. Pretends that he doesn't know the curve of his nose, and his lips, and his throat - pretends that he hasn't noticed all this because they don't know each other yet. Not formally. Yixing pretends that the irregular beating of his heart doesn't mean anything.
"Kim Jongin. I'm a model," Jongin says with a lilt in his voice, oblivious to the pause in Yixing’s breathing, or the quickening of his pulse. I know, Yixing thinks. But Jongin is oblivious - he doesn’t know that Yixing already knows his name. It’s okay, Yixing thinks. After all, they don’t know each other yet.
“Never seen you before. Are you new?” There are a million things Yixing wants to say but he chokes on his words and swallows them, words burning down his throat. Jongin, you have the prettiest eyes. Yixing fixes Jongin with a dull look as he watches the boy walk towards him, before he leans over the balcony, his eyes searching for the stars.
Jongin doesn't reply. Yixing is okay with that. He stands beside Jongin and lets the wind howl and the trees rustle. Let's his heart beat thunder in his ears. But Yixing doesn't let his walls crumble or his heart open. Jongin’s just a pretty face.
"I used to dance. But I model now. Injured waist." Yixing watches the way Jongin’s lips move when he speaks and watches the way his eyebrows knot together. He watches the strands of Jongin’s hair fall into his eyes and the way Jongin swallows after he speaks, mouth parting to let a sigh escape. Yixing watches as his own resolve starts to crumble because Jongin is telling a story and Yixing is irrevocably hooked. Jongin’s a dancer. Was a dancer.
"Why are you telling me this?"
The boy shrugs, head tilting, lips protruding. Yixing watches as Jongin finds the right words to tell Yixing, eyes desperate, almost like he's asking the stars for an answer.
"You remind me of when I used dance, that's all." The words hang between them, heavy in a way almost like how a confession is supposed to be. But this isn't a confession, just Jongin telling a story. Just Jongin lodging himself into every crack of Yixing’s bones. Jongin’s just a pretty face.
Jongin’s just a pretty face but the depths of the oceans in Jongin’s eyes shift to prove as if he is something else - something more.
-
“No offense,” Yixing glances at Jongin briefly. “But models are the dullest people I’ve met - even if they used to be dancers.”
“Spend more time with me, and you’ll like me better, hyung,” Jongin says, eyes sincere and hopeful. Yixing zones out for a bit. He thinks Jongin is impossible - nothing good can come from this. Yixing thinks his heart is going to fall out. But he doesn’t tell Jongin.
“If I’m high enough I might like you,” Yixing leans in to tell the boy over the pounding of his own heart, doubt coursing through his veins. When he pulls back, the moonlight is hitting Jongin’s delicate face at impossible angles, shadows dancing across his cheekbones and nose. Yixing feels his heart slow as Jongin’s eyes light up, crinkling at the sides as he smiles and takes Yixing gently by his wrist.
“Let’s go then.”
-
The world swirls around Yixing. He can barely register the earth beneath his feet that gently slopes into a hill, a wide expanse of mowed grass ahead of him. It is not beautiful but Yixing thinks otherwise, with the melody of the night’s song wrapping around him, and the tendrils of the cold night digging its way into his bones. Jongin is beside him, his warmth the only thing signalling his presence. They walk through complete darkness, comfortable with being hidden amongst the night - Yixing can barely make out the silhouette of a line of trees in the distance.
Collapsing on the soft grass with a sigh, Yixing pulls an unsteady Jongin down with him. The boy yelps in surprise and falls conveniently pressed against Yixing as they lie next to each other, eyes cast towards the star-littered sky. Yixing’s brain is going haywire - the world eddies, his senses on overdrive. He can hear Jongin’s soft breathing as Jongin drinks in the mesmerising night. He can smell the smoke and alcohol from the party on Jongin, and he can feel every inch of Jongin’s arm pressed against his - warmth radiating and chasing away the cold in Yixing’s bones.
Beside him, Jongin breathes a gentle sigh and closes his eyes, delicate eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Yixing wants to map every inch of Jongin's skin in notes and melodies, wants to watch his own pale fingers dance a choreography against Jongin's honey skin - the contrast of their skin tones etched behind his eyelids. But Yixing does none of that, hands lying still by his side, but his mind still wanders.
"Jongin-ah, do you know stars are only meteor rocks on fire?" Yixing blurts out, unsure of what he is saying. His mind is dulled from the weed but he thinks he can make something beautiful and poetic out of this moment.
From the corner of his eye, Yixing sees Jongin’s lips tilt up into a small smile, eyes still closed and still so beautiful.
"But they're beautiful even in their self-destruction," gushes Jongin, eyes fluttering open to gaze at the star fields before turning to face Yixing. "That's brilliant, isn't it?" It’s too early to say, but Yixing may think Jongin is the most brilliant of them all.
Jongin shifts so his entire body angles towards Yixing, head resting on his arm, his cheeks turning pink from the cold of the night. Yixing runs his eyes across every feature of Jongin’s face, his throat constricting and his mind fogging up again. Yixing understands that he is letting himself fly too close to the sun. That he is letting himself get attached and unravelled by a boy with soft hair and bright eyes. But Yixing never had an ounce of self-preservation within him to begin with; he figures he can give this a chance. Maybe this time, he’ll give it a chance.
His mind is absent when he feels Jongin snuggling closer, their shoulders and arms touching as Jongin lies flat on his back again, his head falling close to Yixing’s shoulder. “Hyung, its getting cold, isn’t it?” comes the soft voice and Yixing wants to disagree. No, it’s not. Because Yixing feels himself warm from within inside, feels his whole body lighting up from every inch of his skin that is pressed against Jongin’s.
“It’s a nice cold,” is all Yixing manages as his puffs out little clouds of white, mind reeling. He’s wrong for thinking it’ll be easier to talk to Jongin, to get to know Jongin while under the influence. Yixing is wrong for letting the oceans of browns in Jongin’s eyes draw him in; he is wrong for letting the innocence of Jongin embrace his entire core, flooding his mind and breaking him down from within. Jongin is beautiful though - Yixing is right about that at least.
“Dance for me,” comes the sudden request from Jongin. The ends of his fingers tingle, and Yixing clenches his hands into fists to stop the sensation. The blood coursing through his veins sings with joy at Jongin’s request but Yixing wants this to be perfect. Not now. This isn't going to be perfect. Not on this hill, not with the cannabis engulfing Yixing’s senses. He's walking on air.
This isn't going to be beautiful (like Jongin). This isn't going to be perfect (like Jongin).
"Hyung?" Jongin’s lovely voice drowns out all of Yixing’s demons. "Are you going to dance for me?" Yixing turns his head and meets Jongin’s expectant gaze, brown orbs reflecting Yixing’s insecurities. The boy is sniffling, cute nose turning red due to the cold of the night, white clouds escaping his lips as he breathes through his mouth softly. Yixing cannot refuse this.
Yixing stands up and shakes his limbs, before he removes his coat and hands it to Jongin who is now sitting up, knees under his chin as he tries to keep warm. Jongin drapes Yixing’s coat over his body with a smile like a kid receiving candy and Yixing feels the ground unsteady beneath him again. Or maybe he's just losing his balance.
Yixing dances with a fluidity and ease to a melody that plays in his head, complete with the whispers of the wind and the soft breathing he can still hear from Jongin. He switches his mind off and executes impeccable footwork and sharp moves, panting as the rhythm of his breathing gets disrupted when he catches sight of those brown orbs drinking in his every move. The air around him crackles with energy as he stomps and twirls to the one-two-three-fours in his mind and finishes with unconstrained passion painting his movement in his wake.
Yixing feels Jongin’s burning gaze on him and clears his throat before settling back down next to the boy, silent. He is still gasping for air, lungs expanding with each gulp as he closes his eyes and flops onto the grass. The image of Jongin’s expression while watching him dance is burned into the back of his eyelids; Yixing jerks his eyes open, still gasping for air but for another reason. Jongin’s look of admiration. Jongin’s look of absolute appreciation. Yixing doesn't want that. Yixing is afraid.
The adrenaline and hype oozes out of Yixing’s body as he steadies his breathing - steadies his heart. Jongin hasn't said anything but Jongin’s eyes speaks a thousand words and Yixing thinks he knows what Jongin would say. Inhale, exhale. Yixing’s breathing resumes its regular rhythm but he feels short of air. Perhaps his heart is expanding every moment Jongin floods his mind - expanding until he can't breathe. Or maybe it's just the cannabis and the high after dancing. Yixing doesn't know, doesn't care.
The clouds are drifting low tonight, racing across the night sky as the winds chase behind them. Yixing feels like if he reaches up, he will be able to touch them. Droopy eyes, foggy mind - Yixing nearly misses the slide of Jongin’s hands into his, palm against his, fingers intertwining. Jongin’s fingers curl into the spaces between his and suddenly, it's like puzzle pieces coming together - they fit so perfectly.
Yixing is overwhelmed by the contact, by the warmth of Jongin’s hands, by Jongin. He is overwhelmed by the contrast of Jongin’s caramel skin against his pale ones and Yixing reels when Jongin squeezes his hand in reassurance. Yixing is overwhelmed when Jongin brushes a lingering kiss against his hand, his eyes crinkling and his smile blinding.
Jongin’s smile lodges itself right underneath his heart and Yixing’s chest constricts. What are you doing, Jongin? Yixing wants to ask, but when Jongin closes his eyes and brings their joined palms to rest on his chest, erratic heartbeat thundering through the thin material of his sweater - Yixing is quiet. Yixing doesn't ask. Instead, he holds onto Jongin’s hand tighter, easy smile stretching across his face as he stares at Jongin who is glowing as brightly as the brightest star in the sky.
***
The late morning sunlight filters through the curtains of the room, painting the walls in streaks of light. Yixing opens his eyes blearily and blinks away the sleep, eyes glazed and head tickling with a weird sensation. The room is unfamiliar; ceiling too high, floor too clean. Judging by the artworks hanging on the far wall, Yixing decides he is in one of Junmyeon’s guest rooms. (The abstract artworks are a dead giveaway). He is still in his button down, jeans crumpled and his sweater is tossed onto the armchair in the corner. Yixing spots two painkillers on the bedside table and a glass of water but decides against it - his stomach aching for food.
Yixing pads barefoot out onto the hallway, following the smell of coffee and breakfast. He hears clatter from the kitchen and a low tune being hummed - ears picking up on the varying highs and lows of the melody. As he approaches, he definitely smells fried eggs and maybe bacon - and it's definitely brewed tea and not coffee. His sense of smell is probably still hindered from the effects of last night.
What Yixing doesn't expect is Jongin, still in his thin sweater and black jeans, to be moving his body to the tune he hums. His hips swaying and arms flexing at lazy angles, moving with a grace that leaves Yixing enthralled. Jongin’s movements are a display of raw passion, his muscles stretching to strike every move with utmost perfection. Yixing sees Jongin dance like his whole being depended on it - even if he is doing this absentmindedly. Yixing wants to see more. He wants to see Jongin pour his heart and mind into the twirl of his body and angle of his limbs. He wants to see Jongin tell a story through the ever-shifting expression that decorates his face. He wants to see Jongin let himself go.
Yixing wants to see how alive Jongin looks while he dances.
***
"Tell me everything," gushes Luhan as he slides into the booth opposite of Yixing, Americano in his hands. Yixing snuggles into the warmth of his scarf and fixes a menacing gaze on Luhan before he calmly takes a sip from his latte. Luhan whines at Yixing’s unrelenting silence and kicks him under the table.
"You're a thing now, right?" Luhan presses on, eyes gleaming with excitement, fingers gripping his beverage nervously. Yixing hides his smile behind his drink before he retaliates and kicks Luhan under the table, but Luhan expertly dodges it, pride shining in his eyes as he smirks and laughs.
"Luhan, go away," shoots Yixing, sighing exasperatedly, his voice rises an octave higher as he whines, droopy eyes pleading. Luhan just laughs.
Yixing feels the urge to throw something at his best friend and narrows his eyes. "Please leave. Jongin’s coming soon."
"Which is why I am staying." Luhan’s sweet voice sounds piercing to Yixing’s ears. "Because you won't tell me if you're a thing so I'll ask Jongin."
Luhan is surprised when Yixing suddenly gets out of his chair suddenly and forcibly pushes him out of the cafe, causing a commotion, with every pair of eyes in the cafe focused on the two. His best friend yelps when Yixing shoves his Americano into his hands and closes the door in his face, eyes gleaming with the threat to destroy Luhan when he gets home. Luhan leaves without another word, fear lining his eyes as he dashes away, an apology barely leaving his lips.
When Yixing returns to his seat, a fresh cup of latte sits waiting for him and he glances up to see Minseok nodding at him from the counter, eyes acknowledging how annoying Luhan can be. Yixing gives his thanks by nodding and cups the warm beverage between his hands.
The cafe bustles with activity and the soft morning chatter calms Yixing’s nerves down. He watches the flow of people outside, scurrying on with their lives. He watches as the light snowflakes pirouette down from the sky to dot the city in specks of white. And he waits. He waits for soft brown hair and honey skin, and those eyes - orbs that continue to shift through every shade of brown despite the cooling weather, despite whatever is going on in the world. Yixing waits for Jongin with a fluttering heart and his insides churning.
The bell chimes to signal the arrival of a new customer and Yixing looks up from his coffee just in time to catch brown orbs searching the cafe with a calm Yixing would never have, before locking eyes with his. Jongin face lights up, a summer’s smile amidst the winter, as he walks towards Yixing with a spring in his step.
"You look like an assassin," Yixing remarks to Jongin, who is dressed head to toe in black - a trench coat hugging his lean body and long legs accentuated with tight black jeans and combat boots.
"You look very handsome yourself too, hyung," the shy compliment leaves Jongin’s lips as he chuckles and sits down opposite of Yixing.
Yixing’s stomach does a somersault when Jongin looks up and simply stares at him, eyes intense, as he watches Yixing sip calmly on his drink. He nearly splutters when Jongin shifts under the table, long legs extending and traps one of Yixing’s ankles between the two of his, and leans in close, voice low.
"Why did you want to see me, hyung?" Jongin asks, his voice confident but smudged with a tinge of shyness. Yixing gets lost in the swirling pools of browns in Jongin’s eyes as he digs through his brain for an answer. He's sure there was a purpose for this meeting but his brain isn't cooperating when he's fighting for his life as he drowns in Jongin’s eyes. Yixing was never a good swimmer.
"Oh. Um, Jongin? I have a new composition and I wanted you to perform it. To see how it looks."
Yixing leaves the unsaid words hanging from his mouth, and dangling from his heart. Because this was composed because of you. For you. It was composed with the lines of your body in mind. This is your dance.
Jongin visibly stills, face a blank mask, and he shifts back, eyes the darkest brown Yixing has ever seen them. His lips are pressed into a thin line and his brows are furrowed. "No, hyung. I can't. I don't dance anymore."
Yixing doesn't bring up the topic again.
***
"Jongin," Yixing’s sweet drawn out voice cracks the silence between them but the soundtrack of daybreak continue to fill their ears - birds chirping and winds whispering. Yixing turns to stare at Jongin, who hasn't moved an inch since they came up to the rooftop of Yixing’s apartment - eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones as if he is still in a dream. The crisp morning air fills Yixing with a freshness that he craves and Jongin’s warmth beside him is the familiarity that Yixing needs.
Jongin blinks and looks at Yixing with overflowing affection before he turns to face the fiery sky. He brings their clasped hands, palm against palm, fingers fitting into the space of each other's, up in front of him to point at the looming dawn that chases away the mysterious navy of the night and lights the sky up in the fiercest brilliance.
Yixing relishes in the press of their palms together and the sunrise reflected in Jongin’s ocean of browns as the boy’s breath is taken away by the beautiful dawn in front of him. Yixing’s breath is taken away by Jongin. The effortlessly soft laugh that spills from Jongin’s lips as he squints when the sun is shining into his eyes is a symphony to Yixing’s ears. The boyish smile that adorns Jongin’s face sends Yixing tumbling through a bottomless pit as his heart falls out from under him, giving way for a strange curling emotion that settles familiarly at the bottom of his stomach. Jongin Jongin Jongin. The seasons have passed the both of them, cementing memories in their timeframes, but Yixing will never really get used to how Jongin makes him feel. He will never get used to how his feelings consume him and how he suffocates under Jongin’s unwavering adoration and undeniable affection.
Yixing tugs their clasped hands and places them over his chest, right over his heart, right over where it matters and closes his eyes. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat seeps through his skin and bones, and the many layers of clothes he is wearing this autumn - strong and loud. Yixing still falters every time he stares into Jongin’s brown orbs, or when their hands slide effortlessly together, or when Jongin whispers litanies of “I love you’s” that fall sweetly from smiling lips. Yixing still falters, but Yixing’s heart has grown accustomed to Jongin’s presence over time, beating a steady rhythm that never falters - just like the way Yixing never stutters, never hesitates to say "I love you too" to Jongin in reply.
"Dance for me," Yixing says to Jongin, reminiscent of the first time they met. Jongin’s eyes widen in surprise, but Yixing can spot the slight beginnings of a smile on Jongin’s lips, which purse as if he is deep in thought. Yixing holds his breath, the steady tempo of his heart beat thundering in his ears.
Yixing’s mind is swimming with Jongin Jongin Jongin, when brown eyes come closer, long lashes fluttering nervously against his cheekbone as Jongin glances down towards Yixing’s lips, the ghost of a smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.
A soft press of lips against Yixing’s own makes his heart leap into his throat and his pulse stutters when Jongin thumbs at the inside of his wrist. Jongin kisses him, shy and hesitant, and tightens his grip on their joint hands - the pressure of their linked hands keeping Yixing anchored. Jongin kisses him softly - reverently - and makes Yixing’s insides churn.
"Okay," Jongin says, breaks the kiss. Yixing leans in and presses their foreheads together, pulse accelerating and smile dazzling. The grin on Jongin’s face rivals all the smiles Yixing has collected and placed underneath his heart for the past year, even outshining the rising star that brings morning light to the world every day. A small giggle spills from Jongin’s lips, his eyes speaking volumes as he gazes at Yixing who also bursts into giggles, shyly ducking his head to hide his reddening face.
"Is this your first time, hyung?" Jongin whispers softly, eyes gleaming with a playfulness Yixing is already used to. The boy blinks at Yixing, awaiting an answer. The older male simply nods, bashful smile threatening to turn into giggles again as he covers his face with his two hands. This is so embarrassing, he thinks.
Jongin’s laugh is unrestrained, head thrown back, his eyes forming crescents. Yixing commits Jongin’s laugh, and Jongin’s silhouette against the brilliant backdrop of the sun rising over the Seoul skyline to memory, locking it somewhere deep within himself. Yixing likes to think that this laugh is only for him, Jongin, completely carefree and vulnerable, stripped bare for the world to see. Emotions brimming and on display. No facade and no masks. This is Jongin in all his purest innocence.
Jongin stands in front of Yixing, both hands grasping his, back against the daylight and smiles lovingly at Yixing, eyes brimming with affection.
"Watch me, hyung. I only dance for you."
***
Spring.
Jongin has a habit of blending his words together and Yixing struggles to hear the boy’s question over the light breeze and bustling traffic on a spring morning. They are walking alongside the Han River, shoulders bumping casually into each other, fingers brushing.
“Hyung, I asked, what do you like about me?” Jongin repeats the question, hair tangling in the breeze and eyes glistening with anticipation.
Yixing tucks his hands into his pockets, side-eyeing Jongin as he walks ahead, ignoring the question and leaving the boy behind. There’s a tap on his shoulder, and two hands spinning him around. Yixing finds himself in a handful of Jongin who grabs at his face and stares intently into his eyes, brown orbs wide with determination, the question dancing within them.
“Nothing,” Yixing deadpans, removing Jongin’s hands away from his face and he continues walking, the wind softly blowing against his face. Fingers cold, cheeks flushing, heart pounding.
I love the effortlessly boyish nature that clings to you. Everything about you is simply soft-spoken and beautiful.
Yixing doesn’t say it, because Jongin already knows. Yixing tells him through the embraces, the easy slide of their hands coming together, through their dancing, and through the gentle press of their lips against each other’s. Jongin already knows - since day one.
“Let’s get out of here, Jongin.”
“Where to?” The boy questions, long legs matching the pace of Yixing’s shorter ones as they walk side by side, hands gliding together.
Anywhere. I just want to start anew. With you.
When they leave, Yixing leaves everything behind but the swelling in his chest whenever Jongin smiles at him, hands never letting go of the boy - unsure of the road ahead but positive it’s where they should be going, as long as Jongin is there beside him.
-结束-