the fear of falling apart.
the fear of falling apart; yixing/jia | pg, 775 words
And it feels like the beginning of something more.
Every time Jia lies next to Yixing, she watches, for a while. She does it when he has fallen asleep, when the shadows come in and moonlight ceases to fall on his face. Listening to Yixing’s soft inhales and exhales, she stares, unseeing, into the night.
Yixing is beautiful. Jia tells him so, over and over, but the words haven’t yet lost their meaning.
He laughs in response this morning, a quiet smile on his face when he hands over some tea. His face is older now, premature laugh lines around the sides of his eyes, but in them Jia still sees the lost boy from Changsha.
(she likes to think that more than a thousand miles away from China, they’ve made their own home.)
Their first kiss is alcohol-fueled and melancholy, more bitter than sweet. Jia pushes him away after a couple of seconds and reminds herself: don’t take advantage, don’t get hurt. As she walks him to her apartment, his babble is constant and mostly weepy; Yixing’s a cute drunk.
“But don’t you miss them?” he asks when Jia tucks him into her bed.
“Yeah,” she whispers, after Yixing’s glassy eyes shut closed. More than you would ever know, she thinks. She stands there, observing him for a moment. Even inebriated, he is appealing.
(jia knows that he will forget this, but she always remembers.)
Yixing makes his way into her life, slowly and surely. Jia starts setting the table with two plates instead of one; there’s a drawer now, in her apartment, with his things.
She tries to convinces herself that they are completely platonic, tries to remind herself that she doesn’t want her heart broken again.
(but the way yixing looks at her sometimes -- searching and pleading and a little desperate -- even jia cannot put a spin on.)
There’s an ugly voice in her head that says he’s going to leave. That Jia will be heartbroken when Yixing goes, with only herself to blame.
(again.)
“Why are you so afraid?” Yixing asks, his head on Jia’s shoulder. His hand rests on Jia’s thigh, inching up slowly. His lips curve into her neck, a question.
“I don’t know,” she lies. I love you. I’m afraid of loving you.
“Really?” he says, looking up at her curiously. His hand stills, then finally lifts up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He’s afraid too, Jia thinks. Alight in his eyes is the realization of burgeoning love, of new feelings and old hopes.
(neither of them voice their thoughts that night, but jia knows, then, that something has changed. it was like taking a wrong turn and somehow losing all thoughts of the preset destination. it was like being stranded in the unknown, both of them together, with no one to rely on but each other.)
Yixing is the one who says it first, with only the night sky as their witness. Jia is staring at his face in the moonlight, the night rendering him a silvery-grey. He whispers, soft enough to be mistaken for breathing.
“I love you,” he says, and she is not afraid. Something unknown and powerful rushes through her veins, and--
“I love you,” she says, whispering right back.
(jia stays awake for a while after that, eyes greedily roaming yixing’s face, wondering at her happiness)
Their first date is casual and giddy, both of them walking around Seoul at four am. Jia protests at the face masks (‘it’s been three years since Exo has disbanded, you can’t be that popular”) and laughs at all of Yixing’s jokes. The dim yellow street lights make it hard to see his face, but his laughter is clear under the mask and brighter than any light bulb.
The two of them end up at a 24-hour convenience store, flushed and happy. The sleepy teen at the register pays them little attention as they take of their masks and talk into the night, twin cups of ramen between them.
As the sun rises in a vermillion haze, they walk home. Seoul is just beginning to wake up: cars honking, early morning runners about, and in the middle of it all, Yixing and Jia.
Sleepily, they look up at the sky in wonder.
“Wow,” Yixing says.
(and it feels like the beginning of something more.)
“Jia?” It’s late, but the two of them are still awake in bed.
“Yeah?” she stares up at the darkness, eyes wide open, seeing nothing.
Yixing finds her hand, warm and sure, and doesn’t say anything. Jia doesn’t need words to tell her what she already knows.
(i love you too, she thinks, and hopes that he knows.)
a/n: this is the otp that’ll end up married with a pet and 2.5 children oK but actually china-line otp is perfect ok. title taken from "this is gospel" by panic! at the disco, song inspired by the lyrics of "halo" by beyonce.
And it feels like the beginning of something more.
Every time Jia lies next to Yixing, she watches, for a while. She does it when he has fallen asleep, when the shadows come in and moonlight ceases to fall on his face. Listening to Yixing’s soft inhales and exhales, she stares, unseeing, into the night.
Yixing is beautiful. Jia tells him so, over and over, but the words haven’t yet lost their meaning.
He laughs in response this morning, a quiet smile on his face when he hands over some tea. His face is older now, premature laugh lines around the sides of his eyes, but in them Jia still sees the lost boy from Changsha.
(she likes to think that more than a thousand miles away from China, they’ve made their own home.)
Their first kiss is alcohol-fueled and melancholy, more bitter than sweet. Jia pushes him away after a couple of seconds and reminds herself: don’t take advantage, don’t get hurt. As she walks him to her apartment, his babble is constant and mostly weepy; Yixing’s a cute drunk.
“But don’t you miss them?” he asks when Jia tucks him into her bed.
“Yeah,” she whispers, after Yixing’s glassy eyes shut closed. More than you would ever know, she thinks. She stands there, observing him for a moment. Even inebriated, he is appealing.
(jia knows that he will forget this, but she always remembers.)
Yixing makes his way into her life, slowly and surely. Jia starts setting the table with two plates instead of one; there’s a drawer now, in her apartment, with his things.
She tries to convinces herself that they are completely platonic, tries to remind herself that she doesn’t want her heart broken again.
(but the way yixing looks at her sometimes -- searching and pleading and a little desperate -- even jia cannot put a spin on.)
There’s an ugly voice in her head that says he’s going to leave. That Jia will be heartbroken when Yixing goes, with only herself to blame.
(again.)
“Why are you so afraid?” Yixing asks, his head on Jia’s shoulder. His hand rests on Jia’s thigh, inching up slowly. His lips curve into her neck, a question.
“I don’t know,” she lies. I love you. I’m afraid of loving you.
“Really?” he says, looking up at her curiously. His hand stills, then finally lifts up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He’s afraid too, Jia thinks. Alight in his eyes is the realization of burgeoning love, of new feelings and old hopes.
(neither of them voice their thoughts that night, but jia knows, then, that something has changed. it was like taking a wrong turn and somehow losing all thoughts of the preset destination. it was like being stranded in the unknown, both of them together, with no one to rely on but each other.)
Yixing is the one who says it first, with only the night sky as their witness. Jia is staring at his face in the moonlight, the night rendering him a silvery-grey. He whispers, soft enough to be mistaken for breathing.
“I love you,” he says, and she is not afraid. Something unknown and powerful rushes through her veins, and--
“I love you,” she says, whispering right back.
(jia stays awake for a while after that, eyes greedily roaming yixing’s face, wondering at her happiness)
Their first date is casual and giddy, both of them walking around Seoul at four am. Jia protests at the face masks (‘it’s been three years since Exo has disbanded, you can’t be that popular”) and laughs at all of Yixing’s jokes. The dim yellow street lights make it hard to see his face, but his laughter is clear under the mask and brighter than any light bulb.
The two of them end up at a 24-hour convenience store, flushed and happy. The sleepy teen at the register pays them little attention as they take of their masks and talk into the night, twin cups of ramen between them.
As the sun rises in a vermillion haze, they walk home. Seoul is just beginning to wake up: cars honking, early morning runners about, and in the middle of it all, Yixing and Jia.
Sleepily, they look up at the sky in wonder.
“Wow,” Yixing says.
(and it feels like the beginning of something more.)
“Jia?” It’s late, but the two of them are still awake in bed.
“Yeah?” she stares up at the darkness, eyes wide open, seeing nothing.
Yixing finds her hand, warm and sure, and doesn’t say anything. Jia doesn’t need words to tell her what she already knows.
(i love you too, she thinks, and hopes that he knows.)
a/n: this is the otp that’ll end up married with a pet and 2.5 children oK but actually china-line otp is perfect ok. title taken from "this is gospel" by panic! at the disco, song inspired by the lyrics of "halo" by beyonce.