(DAY 6: #96) THE PRICE OF FALLING (2/6)
The next weeks Yixing falls into a rhythm of going to visit Yifan every morning, and then returning for a few hours in the afternoon as well, once he has finished treating all of his patients. Junmyeon has stopped complaining about it when Yixing works overtime. Yixing guesses that he agrees that talking to Yifan isn’t exactly such a tiring task.
But that doesn’t mean that all they do is talk.
In spite of his failures on the day he discovered the scorched birthmark, Yixing refuses to give up. The progress is minimal, but he can see the wounds getting continuously less pronounced on Yifan’s skin after a week of continuous healing, and after another week he swears that the colour has already changed to a brighter shade. Yifan, with no way to check the mark on his back himself, bases his own enthusiasm off of Yixing’s excited grins.
Nonetheless is it impossible for Yixing to use his powers all the time he spends with Yifan, so they do talk quite a lot. Yifan doesn’t seem to have any relatives or friends to visit him, which is not much of a surprise considering that the hospital staff hasn’t had the chance to inform anyone of Yifan’s stay in the hospital. In the wallet from his backpocket, that had surprisingly survived whatever flames Yifan had been subjected to, there had been no emergency contacts listed, or any other means of contact in general. Yifan’s ID and a few money bills had been the only contents of the brown leather wallet.
Of course Yixing had asked Yifan whom he should contact, but the only answer he had gotten was “There isn’t anyone,” and then the elder had turned away defiantly, visibly declaring the conversation to be over.
Yixing refuses to believe that there is no one, not a single soul that would like to know about Yifan’s remains, but he doesn’t have a chance to get information from the elder that Yifan isn’t willing to give. That’s why he reasons it’s only right for him to spend time with Yifan, just socializing, to prevent the other from getting too lonely. Yifan never outright voices it, but the way he starts greeting Yixing with a small smile after the first week is enough to tell him that the blond does appreciate the company.
They get along better than Yixing would have expected in the beginning. Yifan is a strange paradox of talkative and closed-off. There are topics that immediately make him shut-off any means of communication, his face pulling into a frown that downright looks scary, and if Yixing hadn’t known him better at that point, he might actually have been intimidated.
On the other hand it is easy for Yixing to talk with Yifan about anything that isn’t directly linked to any of these “off-limits” topics. He learns that the other was born in Guangzhou, but his parents had always been on the move when he was young. He learns that Yifan discovered his powers the day he turned ten, and that his mother gave him the scolding of his life after he accidentally broke their ceiling fan, but immediately after she hugged him tightly and congratulated him on his powers.
Yifan likes to play basketball and he loves to draw, even though he hasn’t had the chance to in years, as he claims. “I might be a bit rusty,” the elder says with an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks downright sheepish, which is a strange feat for an over six foot giant with a face that seemed to be continuously pulled into a scowl.
“I bet you’re not! I’d love to see your drawings,” Yixing replies enthusiastically. They are sitting on a couch in one of the staff lounges, half-turned to face each other. Due to the rather small size of the hospital and thus limited staff number Yifan had quickly been integrated to feel more like a member of the staff than like a patient. All of the nurses and doctors call him by his name, and the same holds true for the reverse.
It was Yixing’s suggestion to move to a more comfortable location for their talks rather than staying in Yifan’s room, where the other would have to sit in his bed as if he was too sick to move and Yixing could only use one of the-not exactly comfortable-plastic chairs found in each hospital room.
“You know what? I will make sure to get you some drawing supplies. I should be able to get some pencils and a sketch block from somewhere,” Yixing suggests, grinning widely in excitement. Yifan really has no choice but to mirror the smile and accept the offer with a soft “Thank you.” He has by now come to accept that if Yixing has set his mind to something, there is no use in trying to fight it.
“Oh right, I found this book on the internet yesterday. It already is fairly old, but it might contain useful information about powers and how they’re connected to birthmarks. I was planning on checking whether they have a copy of it in our local library, and if they don’t I’ll have to go look at the library in the city.”
Just as it has become a habit to visit Yifan it has become a habit for Yixing to tell the other of what research he is doing, or what things he did in general to help Yifan’s condition. He isn’t exactly sure himself how many parts of his motivation are true ambition and how many are him feeling guilty that he hasn’t been able to help Yifan so far when he promised. Truly, it’s been weeks and Yixing hasn’t gotten any closer to the root of the problem. It feels as if any lead he has just disappears in a trail of smoke and a curt “To this day there is nothing concrete known about the source or workings of the wielders’ powers” written in whatever book he had set his latest hopes on.
He’s mid-way through an explanation of how he intends to approach the healing of Yifan’s birthmark when he suddenly feels Yifan’s hands on his lower arm. The touch startles him, and his eyes focus back on reality, finding Yifan looking at him intently. “Yixing.” He calmly says, as if he didn’t already have Yixing’s undivided attention. “It’s okay. You don’t have to prove to me that you’re working on finding a way to help me. I know that you are. There’s no need to report to me or anything.”
Right from the first day Yixing has been able to surmise that Yifan is a handsome person, but the less bandages he had to wear, the more his wounds were healed, the more obvious it became. Strong eyebrows, an angular face with piercing eyes and full lips. Even the unusual white-blond hair-that has grown back quicker than normal, most likely due to Yixing’s healing influences on the taller’s body-suits him.
There’s really no denying that Yifan is a head-turner, and Yixing blames that fact for the way his heart speeds up slightly at being looked at so intently by the elder. It’s just a normal reaction to being around attractive people, he reasons. He forces a smile on his lips and hopes that there isn’t any visible colouring in his face despite the way it feels slightly hotter than usual. “I know, I just want to make sure that you feel as if you’re in good hands.”
Yifan answers with a blinding smile of his own. “I do. I couldn’t imagine any better place to be at.”
His battle against the blush creeping up his cheeks is lost at that point so Yixing averts his gaze a little in the hope of hiding it at least. From the corner of his eye he catches what might be a satifsfied grin on Yifan’s part, but perhaps he’s also only imagining that.
He is still my patient, I am only flustered because of his compliments, Yixing tells himself while his heart is pounding like mad in his chest, but the healer skillfully ignores that fact.
---
It’s a month into Yifan’s stay in the hospital when his condition starts to noticeably deteriorate. As optimistic as Yixing was in the beginning, the little progress he makes is less than satisfying. He has managed to heal the angry red marks to a soft pink, but that’s about it. The birthmark remains broken, no matter what he attempts, and slowly but surely there is frustration crawling into him. He tries to keep all signs of it from Yifan, but it’s a bit useless. With Yifan’s powers still being completely gone after a month the elder must have reasoned by now that things aren’t progressing the way Yixing imagined them to in the beginning.
Yifan grows silent more often, seemingly too caught up in his own mind to properly answer Yixing with more than few words or a short sentence at most. There is a shadow over his eyes that seems to be getting darker, and frankly, the sight scares Yixing.
Truthfully, he has never really considered what powers mean for them. He has been born with them, always has had them. It never crossed his mind that there could be any possibility to lose these powers, and what the effect it would have on the wielder. He wouldn’t want to part with his powers for anything in the world, but there are people who never had any powers to begin with, and they lived just fine. Yixing knew that losing the powers you’ve had all your life would probably be inconvenient, but in his naivety he had always assumed that losing them couldn’t be that bad. He imagined it would be nothing you couldn’t learn to get by without after a little adjustment.
Yifan, however, proves this assumption of his to be devastatingly inaccurate.
They are sitting together one afternoon, Yifan bunched into blankets on his bed and Yixing sitting on a chair beside him. The taller claimed to be cold, so the healer agreed to stay in Yifan’s room for a change.
After all the books from the library he had poured over have proven to not contain any useful information, Yixing has finally gotten around to asking Yifan what it really feels like to have lost one’s powers. Yixing is sure that two weeks ago Yifan would simply have shrugged and claimed that it felt weird, without getting into the topic further. He had witnessed Yifan avoiding questions concerning his wounds often enough.
The day before had been a day where Yifan was exceptionally silent, and even now the taller’s eyes look tired, more so than they usually do. Yixing figures it’s the worry in his own eyes that prompts the blond to answer Yixing’s question. “It’s like… like…,” the blond visibly struggles with the words, his hands making helpless grabbing motions, though it’s impossible to tell whether he’s trying to show what he doesn’t know how to express with words, or whether it’s just a gesture to help him think, as if he could pluck the right phrasing from the air. “It’s like reaching for nothing where there was something before?”
He looks at Yixing with questioning eyes, gauging whether his explanation managed to get his point across to the younger, but from the way he falters a little and starts another attempt, Yixing reads that his confusion does show on his face.
“It’s like a void inside me where my powers used to be. I was able to fly before, but now I can’t anymore,” Yifan explains, his fingers nestling with the blanket in what looks like a motion meant to relieve stress. “Of course I don’t know how it feels like to lose a limb, but I imagine that it has a similar effect. You always relied on the fact that it’s there. That you have both legs to run, or both hands to grab things. But then one of these things is gone, leaving nothing but emptiness in its place.”
This time Yixing nods because he gets the picture. It sounds like a reasonable enough comparison, but Yifan doesn’t seem to be done yet with his explanation.
“Just that there is more to it. I don’t know about you or whether it’s a general rule, but whenever I used to fly, there would be that… feeling like a rush of endorphins, just stronger. I couldn’t go for a longer time without the need to fly getting overpowering. Now I look at the sky and long, but I am unable to do anything about that.”
With the last sentence Yifan turns to look out of the window, and Yixing sees exactly what the elder was talking about. There is longing in his eyes, and that look haunts him throughout the whole afternoon, and all the way back to his own home that evening. When he lies in bed at night, Yifan’s words are still resounding within his head.
I couldn’t go for a longer time without the need to fly getting overpowering.
He spoke in the past tense, but it is clear from the longing gaze that that statement still is as true as ever. Yixing just doesn’t know what will happen when the desire gets too strong. It’s the first time for him to realize that time might be his worst enemy.
---
It’s after that day that Yixing starts to notice things he didn’t notice before, like rules to determine the mental state the taller is in.
There are good days and there are bad days with Yifan. The good days mean that Yifan greets him with a smile when the brunette walks through the door, holding up his sketching pad for Yixing to have a look at it, proudly leafing through the various pages and sketches of landscapes and animals the healer has never seen before.
On good days Yixing’s heart will beat a little faster whenever the elder’s hand brushes against his by accident, an a warmth will spread in his cheeks whenever Yifan teases him about how he looks all professional with his lab coat when in reality Yixing only spends his time lazying around with the other. He might even catch a mischievous twinkle and the hint of something else in Yifan’s eyes when the other thinks Yixing can’t see his gaze from the corner of his eyes.
Good days mean that the curtains are drawn.
Walking in on Yifan sitting beside the window, studying the blue sky outside means that it’s a bad day. When he finds Yifan like this, the other is usually apathetic, his gaze unmoving from the scenery outside even if Yixing talks to him. On bad days Yixing’s heart beats faster because he’s on high-alert, and fear he doesn’t want to admit to runs cold through his veins at seeing Yifan be so unresponsive.
The longer the days drag on, the more often Yifan seems to have bad days. He tells Yixing about it, in the moments when he’s weaker, that there is this pull inside him that he can’t quench and that he feels as if it’s driving him mad.
Watching Yifan like this, having to realize that just being with Yifan, talking to him and healing his outer wounds doesn’t help, Yixing has an idea what the other means by that.
---
Yixing has almost given up the hope of finding any information on Yifan’s case when he finally stumbles across an old book and written by an author he’s never heard of before (some Li Qiang) in a small store in the city. It’s not his first trip to the city with the purpose of finding information, but it’s the first time he returns with some tangible lead.
The book is thin, barely more than 50 pages; if Yixing is being honest, it’s more of a booklet rather than a book. But it’s titled “The Wielders: A Collection” and the introduction talks about the author having written down all the knowledge he could gather during his quest of finding out more about power wielders. Yixing has to read almost the through whole book before he comes across new information, but he almost feels like crying out in victory when he sees that the chapter deals with possible harmful influences on a wielder’s given powers.
According to the book, no ordinary natural force can possibly affect a wielder’s powers. Due to their extraordinary nature they can’t be tampered with that easily. It takes another wielder’s power for the possibility to exist to have any effect on someone else’s powers, and even then a lot of force and malicious intent is needed.
So his burns were caused by a fire wielder. It makes sense to Yixing, in a way, since he already guessed that no ordinary fire could have caused the distortions of Yifan’s birthmark. This book is only confirming that assumption.
It’s the next few pages though, that make Yixing’s blood run cold. He has been worried for a while now that he can’t help Yifan, but he’d always placated himself with the thought that even if it might not be easy for Yifan to live with the “void,” Yixing would be able to help him through it somehow, by talking to him and being around him in general. Of course, assuming that Yixing isn’t able to heal him in the first place, which he hasn’t stopped believing in so far. The things he reads however turn Yixing’s worries into downright fears. He can feel them creep into his bones like a cold liquid, making him shiver and his stomach turn slightly.
The book speaks of “madness”-the same word Yifan used, but Yixing doesn’t want to think of that; it speaks of wielders who completely lose their will to live once their powers are taken from them.
“It is alluring to compare a wielder losing their powers to someone losing a limb. After all, both have lost something that once gave them the ability to perform certain actions or certain tasks. However, this comparison is misleading, and in all the cases that have been passed on, it is ultimately wrong.
“A wielder’s powers have an entirely different meaning to them than a mere limb does. It isn’t known how exactly a wielder is linked to their power, but the bond is so tight, that one can easily claim that it’s a part of their soul, of who they are at the core,” Yixing reads aloud in a whisper, as if saying the words would change their meaning. It doesn’t, however, and his voice sounds eerie in the silence that surrounds him.
“Therefore losing their powers equals losing a part of their soul for a wielder. Some have a stronger will than others and can fight the gaping hole inside them. There isn’t much known about wielder’s who lost their powers, and it wasn’t possible for me to get any first hand information.
“The sad truth is that so far, no matter how strong the person was or how hard they fight, there isn’t any report of a muted wielder winning in the long run. That is not to say it’s not possible. This book raises no claim to completeness of the information it presents. Only the facts that are known can be stated, and one of these facts is that to this day there isn’t any known muted wielder who’s alive. Madness came to claim them all, when the desire got too strong and eventually it led to them preferring not to live at all rather than having to live with the emptiness any longer.”
There are a few pages left in the book, but Yixing can’t focus on them anymore. He can’t focus on anything but the turn of his stomach and the hammering of his heart.
It says that it’s possible to go differently. There might be cases that defy the rule. His brain supplies, as if trying to keep himself from falling into the paralysis of fear. Yifan might be different. I can help him. This book could be wrong in general.
It’s a tempting thought, to simply refute the content of the book. However it’s the only lead Yixing has had so far, so he can’t simply put it aside because it doesn’t fit his views or wishes.
Wishes? the voice inside his head chides. This isn’t about fitting into what you want, it’s about understanding that Yifan will die in the end and that you can’t do anything about it.
His thoughts startle himself, because it’s only then that the realization sinks in; the meaning behind the inked sentences:
If the book is accurate, Yifan is going to inevitably die if his powers don’t return.
Suddenly, Yixing feels as if he can’t breathe. The book falls from his grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud as he stands. Almost unconsciously he moves into the hallway, grabbing his jacket as he goes, and before he realizes it, he’s left his flat. The next thing he knows, he’s knocking on a mahogany front door. He’d lost track of time, but since he had worked his usual shift at the hospital before heading home to read, he reasons that it’s probably very late by now. Yixing wonders whether he should simply head back when suddenly the door swings open.
Luhan visibly looks astonished and slightly disbelieving to find Yixing on his doorstep, the younger hugging his arms around his body because the nights are still rather cold despite it being summer. “Yi-... xing?” There is a short pause in Luhan’s speech, as if he’s not certain whether or not he’s dreaming. Yixing can’t exactly blame him-so far he has been to Luhan’s place a total of five times perhaps, and the last visit is already dating back to more than a year ago. “Yixing, is something wrong?”
Of course he’ll assume something is wrong, Yixing thinks. Then again Luhan is right. Something is wrong. Or rather, Yixing feels as if nothing’s right.
“I would like that cup of coffee now.” He says instead of answering Luhan’s question, and for a second Luhan just continues looking at him in bafflement. Then his brain seems to catch up and he jumps into action.
“Sure, sure, come in. Please.” The honey-haired male takes a step back, gesturing for Yixing to enter the hallway. “Min? Yixing’s over.” Luhan shouts into the flat as soon as he has pulled the door close behind the younger. Immediately the head of his co-worker peaks out from a door frame down the hallway.
“Wha-?” The words die on the nurse’s lips when he spots Yixing. “Hello…?” he settles on instead, but it sounds more like a question than a greeting. From the ways his eyes flicker to Luhan, it’s one directed at the other.
“Yixing just wants to chat a little,” Luhan claims, casting a questioning glance at the younger himself. When the healer doesn’t object, Luhan lifts his eyes to meet Minseok’s gaze again, this time with an expression on his face that Yixing can’t quite interpret, but it looks less unsure and more determined.
Minseok seems to know exactly what it means. “Sure. If you guys need me or anything, just call.” And just like that Minseok disappears back into the room he came from.
Luhan, on the other hand, leads Yixing into the kitchen, telling him to take a seat at the table while he himself rummages through the closets. “I’m assuming you wanting that cup of coffee was more of a symbolic thing. If I recall correctly you weren’t ever partial to coffee, liking a cup of tea way more...” Luhan chatters away as if it is completely normal for Yixing to turn up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, unannounced. “I think... ah, there we have it. I knew I still had a bit of this tea left! It’s my favourite green one.”
The next few minutes sees the elder bustling around the kitchen, boiling water and taking out mismatched cups. All the while he keeps on talking about inconsequential things. The sound of his voice is unexpectedly comforting to Yixing. He’s just happy he isn’t forced to listen to his own thoughts for now. Luhan only goes silent after he has placed a hot cup of green tea in front of Yixing and has sat down himself. He seems to want to give Yixing room to speak, patiently waiting now.
Yixing’s throat feels constricted, the words simply refusing to come out. The heat of his cup makes him realize just how cold his hands have turned, and even though the temperature difference stings, he forces himself to keep his fingers folded around the hot ceramic.
“How’s Yifan?” Luhan eventually breaks through the silence in a conversational tone. The name makes Yixing flinch involuntarily, unable to control the motion. It has Luhan’s eyebrow arch up for the fraction of a second in surprise before he expertly schooled his expression back into one of compassionate friendliness. “So this is about him?”
It’s weird, Yixing muses, how Luhan seems to be able to read him so well, even if it’s been so long since the last time they regularly hung out. There’s this knowing undertone in Luhan’s voice, and suddenly Yixing finds himself spilling almost everything. He keeps the discoveries of the afternoon to himself-perhaps because he doesn’t feel as if he can say “Yifan will die” out loud just yet.
He does, however, tell the elder everything about Yifan’s lost powers, about how the blond has been in an unhealthy state of mind increasingly often, and that Yixing is unable to heal the wounds covering the birthmark. He confides that he’s unable to heal Yifan, and how the mere idea makes him feel helpless, and useless.
His throat feels slightly scratchy when stops talking, and the tea he’s holding has cooled down to being lukewarm rather than hot. It didn’t even register with him how much he’s spoken, especially since he hadn’t been able to sort his thoughts out at all in the beginning.
“I’m sorry for intruding like this, especially at this hour. But I just needed someone to talk to,” Yixing adds, looking at the elder to gauge his reaction.
“Oh no, you don’t need to apologize,” Luhan immediately tries to appease the younger, waving his hands around in front of his body. “That’s why I told you to contact me if you ever need anything. Because I want you to contact me if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” For the first time that night Yixing sips at his tea. A distinctly flowery note stands out among the usual tastes of green tea, and the healer ends up taking another sip immediately after.
“No need to thank me for that,” the elder mirrors Yixing’s action, gulping down a bit of his tea before continuing. “I could say I know how you feel, but most likely that’d be a lie. I’m pretty sure I don’t know how you feel, and I’m afraid I also don’t know if I have any useful advice for you.”
“That’s okay,” Yixing says, surprising even himself. He didn’t come for advice, he realizes in that moment, but because he had to let these thoughts out or they would have eaten away at him. “I think I just needed someone to listen.”
“Perhaps,” the elder agrees, letting his voice trail off slightly. Then resolution flickers over his face, and when Yixing turns to meet his gaze head-on, the most dominant emotion he sees in Luhan’s face is worry. “But there is one thing I’m sure about. Even if you might not think so, I know you well. I know you will do everything in your power to help Yifan. You will because you can’t stand to see anyone suffering, and if there is a way to help your patient, I know you’ll find it. But-” Luhan halts abruptly, lifting a finger as if to emphasize his point. “You have to be careful, Yixing. You tend to let matters get too close to your heart, and sometimes that means signing up for heartache right along with it.”
If you would only know how right you are about that, Yixing muses, but the only thing he does is nod.
He spends a while in Luhan’s kitchen, way past midnight and the time where both of them should be sleeping already, but neither seems to want to be the one to end their conversation. They talk about everything and nothing, and Yixing feels lighter than he has in weeks. In the end Yixing can hardly keep his eyes open anymore and Luhan has troubles getting a word out without yawning, so they reluctantly decide to call it a night.
Yixing intends to head home, but Luhan refuses to let him go. “It’s late and we have a perfectly functional guest room,” he explains, already dragging the younger down the hallway. “You can head to work tomorrow together with Minseok, and perhaps let some healthy rumours circulate a little.”
Yixing is too tired to react with anything other than narrowed eyes at Luhan’s lame grin. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep making the elder think he’s funny.
Waking up the next morning has Yixing disoriented for a moment before he remembers where he’s at. That morning he does have a cup of coffee when he usually only drinks tea, and it’s equal parts because he needs the caffeine after the rather short night, and also because he wants to show appreciation for Minseok’s passion.
The walk to the hospital is silent, even with Minseok walking beside him, but that’s fine with Yixing. It’s a companionable silence, and after getting the chance to talk about Yifan’s situation with Luhan, his steps feel a little lighter already. A warmth has settled in his chest that keeps the negative thoughts away.
The feeling lasts exactly until Yixing walks into Yifan’s room and his world comes crashing down again at the sight of open curtains and a chair pulled right in front of the window.
---
There is knowing and then there is knowing, Yixing comes to discover. He has always been a curious person, wanting to understand how things worked and why, how he could possibly influence them to go differently. He has always craved knowledge, but now he can’t help but crave obliviousness. Perhaps if he was oblivious, every smile of Yifan’s wouldn’t hurt that much, and he wouldn’t be consumed by so much guilt at not being able to help his patient.
So far Yixing has always been able to heal whoever came to him in search for recovery. There might have been cases that were more difficult than others, ones that had pushed him to the limit, but this is different. This is past his limit, and Yixing stands helplessly at a wall, pushing and pushing at an immovable barrier.
He’s doing fine, he tries to convince himself. I’ll find a way to heal him before he can’t take it anymore.
Yixing pretends that these little reassurances aren’t as empty as he knows them to be.
( Part 3)