Liebe Geht Durch Den Magen (I/II)
Title: Liebe Geht Durch Den Magen
Rating: PG
Length: ~13.3k
Summary: Expecting to spend Christmas alone in a foreign country Yixing is more than surprised to end up at his neighbour's flat for Christmas Eve.
A/N: Written for the wonderful Mells as part of our little Fanxing Secret Santa exchange. The title means “The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.“ but since the German version of that is much shorter I decided to go with that one. Also I took a lot of creative liberties with Montreal and Changsha I'm afraid since I've never been to either city but I hope you'll forgive me that. A (very) belated Merry Christmas to you all, I love you all <3
Liebe Geht Durch Den Magen
The wind is merciless, driving right through Yixing’s jacket and sweater, and even when he buries his face deeper into his woollen scarf, he can still feel the sharp cold cutting into his skin like an icy blade. The winter in Montreal is cold, so much colder than what he’s used to in Changsha, and even the four layers of clothes he’s donned don’t seem to help with shielding him from it. During the day he’s fine, especially if the sun is shining, but as soon as night falls or it begins to rain or even snow, the temperatures drop. Even though he’s born in autumn he considers himself made for Changsha summers with an average of 35° Celsius, not for winters where temperatures a good bit below zero degree are normal. So he futilely tries to wrap himself even tighter into his coat, gloved hands shoved into his pockets, head held low to avoid the wind as best as he can. Since he’s still cold, he quickens his steps in the hope of arriving back at his flat faster.
It’s the middle of December, and the streets are covered in a soft blanket of snow. Yixing likes the sight of it, not used to snow from back home. Montreal is a beautiful city, especially when decked out in Christmas illuminations and the mellow whiteness of snow but while Yixing likes the view he can’t help the bouts of homesickness. It’s not the city itself that makes him reminisce, being too different from his hometown, but the Christmas songs blasting in every shopping centre or coffee shop he enters remind him of his mother putting on Christmas CDs as soon as December starts, singing along to the songs written in a foreign language she barely understands; all the fairy lights and colourful, glowing Christmas figures taking him back to when he would go with his grandparents to look at the newly put-up illumination, walking down streets lined by lit-up trees together with them.
He is abroad for the first time in his life, having arrived in Canada only four months prior, just in time to settle into his new flat and sort out all his visits to the authorities before his courses started in late September. It's been long enough for a sense of normalcy to have settled in by now, but he still manages to discover new and exciting facets of the city. Yet, this is his first Christmas away from his family, and no amount of excitement about the new experiences Montreal brings can stop him from feeling a little lonely at the thought. A lot of the other foreign students in his class are going to hop on a plane as soon as their last lecture lets them out in the following week, but with a heavy heart Yixing decided to resist the temptation. He is lucky enough to have scored a scholarship, and his parents are sending him a monthly allowance, but despite that he still has to watch his money. Flying back home to Changsha in time for Christmas simply is something he can’t afford, and he has arranged himself with that. It would be an unreasonable waste of money he tells himself whenever he feels like his apartment is too quiet and not festive at all.
He lets out a relieved huff as soon as he has finally makes it to his apartment building. His cold fingers fumble with the keys clumsily, making him take slightly longer than normal to unlock the entrance door, but eventually a rush of warm air greets him from inside. He shivers softly at the sudden difference in temperature as he hurries to enter his apartment building.
“Cold outside, isn’t it?” The voice is deep and familiar, as is the accented mandarin, and Yixing spins around to find the speaker standing in front of the mailboxes. Yifan smiles at him in greeting, the same gentle smile that he always seems to wear when he meets the younger, and Yixing immediately relaxes at the sight.
“Freezing,” he replies with a smile that doesn’t seem to fit the complaining tone of his voice at all, but the stretch of his mouth only widens when Yifan answers with a laugh.
“Yeah, I guess it’s a bit different from what you’re used to from Changsha,” the elder agrees, moving to the side when Yixing joins him to check his own mail. There are a lot of ads, but he also spots a Christmas card buried in between the colourful brochures.
“It’s not as if it doesn’t ever get cold in Changsha during winter,” Yixing acquiesces, his attention returning to Yifan who falls into step beside him when the student moves towards the staircase. “But it’s usually not this cold until January or February.”
Yifan hums in understanding and while they ascend towards their apartments they fall into their normal comfortable small talk. Yixing asks the taller man about his work, while Yifan in turn inquires about Yixing’s classes and how ready he feels for his exams the next week. It’s a familiar conversation, and by the time they reach their respective flats Yixing feels slightly regretful, not wanting to part with the other just yet.
“Well, I’ll see you around,” Yifan says when the lock to his door clicks open, and Yixing answers him with a smile and a slight nod of his head, muttering a quick response before following the other’s example and entering his flat.
He finds himself humming Christmas tunes happily while he hangs up his coat and unpacks the groceries he had bought on his way back home from university. Meeting his next door neighbour always manages to put him into a good mood, and Yixing can’t even properly tell why, but he puts it down to the fact that he can speak in Mandarin with the elder.
While Yixing’s level of french never went past “Bonjour”, “Bonsoir” and “Je ne parles pas francais.”, he isn’t uncomfortable with English per se. He has studied hard during his high school days at mastering the language, always with the goal of wanting to go abroad for university in mind. It was his personal ambition that had him look for English language partners in order to reach the level of proficiency that is required in order to partake in higher education. Years of familiarizing himself with English and polishing his own skills have brought him to a point where he doesn’t have any problems with understanding the foreign language, and with the exception of very few times when he draws a blank, speaking also doesn't trouble him. And yet, there’s something relaxing, comforting, downright soothing in hearing the familiar tones roll off Yifan’s tongue. It has Yixing realize that no matter how comfortable he is with English, the sound of his mother tongue still puts him at ease, and has him feel more like himself.
He reasons that that’s why he seeks conversation with his neighbour so often; because he misses home, and he longs for the familiarity that Yifan’s Mandarin provides. It doesn’t matter that it’s accented with hints of Canadian English and doesn’t have any traces of the Changsha dialect he’s been surrounded with for most of his life; Yixing still finds himself always being in a better mood whenever he converses with the older man.
Yixing hadn't expected to meet a fellow Chinese-though Yifan technically hasn't lived in China for so long that Yixing is not sure if the other doesn't qualify as Canadian more than as Chinese, but it's the same difference for him because if nothing else they still share the same heritage. It makes Yixing feel utterly happy about having taken up the offer of his mother's friend who rented him his flat at special family-friend conditions. He had been very indecisive at first, torn between moving into his university's dorm or renting an own flat. Both choices had positive and negative aspects, but in the end the unbeatably cheap option of moving into his family friend's apartment had won over being surrounded by a lot of people from foreign cultures.
Actually Yixing thinks he shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that there's another Chinese person living in his building, going by the fact that the landlord is Chinese as well, and yet he found himself rooted in place when he first ran into his neighbour. Although his petrification might also have been due to the fact that Yifan is undeniably handsome; tall, broad-shouldered, distinctly cut facial features and sharp eyes. At first Yixing had been a little intimidated by the set of the elder's strong eyebrows, but it only took one gummy smile and one sentence spoken in a gentle voice by Yifan for the smaller man to realize that despite Yifan's perpetually irritated looking expression he is a very soft person in reality. Which only adds to his attractiveness, Yixing has to admit, but he doesn't allow himself to dwell on the thought too long. He has come to Canada to study, not to indulge in romance, and the chances of his neighbour swinging the same way Yixing seem very small in the younger's eyes. So he contents himself with permitting himself a small crush, only under the condition that his attraction is blamed on the fact that Yifan is Chinese rather than making it about the man himself.
It is safer like that.
❄❄❄
It is a week later, just three days before Christmas, that Yixing's doorbell rings. He startles from his seat at his desk, not expecting any visitors. It must be the postman, he reasons. Unexpected packages are normal around Christmas time after all. However when he pulls his apartment's door open, he's greeted with emptiness. Confused he looks down, wondering whether the postman just placed the delivery on his doormat and left, not wanting to wait the thirty seconds it took Yixing to get from his living room to the front door. His eyes widen slightly when he sees the true source of the ringing standing there. And it is no out-of-the-blue Christmas present. Instead a little boy is looking up at Yixing with an air of confidence that makes it seem unlikely that he is lost.
“Are you Yixing?” the child asks in English with a slight lisp, and Yixing is so dumbstruck that he simply nods ineloquently.
“Papa isn't home yet so he said I should stay with you,” the boy continues, and it doesn't even sound like a question, but rather like a statement. As if there's no doubt at all that Yixing will watch over him while the child's father is apparently unavailable. There's a moment when Yixing considers whether the little boy has actually mistook him for someone else, but he highly doubts that there are any other Yixing's living close by. Even as confused as he is, Yixing still replies with a slightly stumbling, “Please come in.” and steps to the side to wave the boy inside, who passes by him without any second thoughts.
Once he's pulled the door closed he halts in his steps again. The child is still standing in the middle of his hallway, looking up at him with expectant eyes, as if waiting to be entertained. Yixing's brain blanks for a moment, and he wonders how the hell he ended up with a child he doesn't even know in his custody, but it's not as if he could have just denied the boy entrance to his flat. It would have been extremely irresponsible to just leave him outside without anyone to watch over him, so Yixing didn't really have a choice.
“What's your name?” he asks, reasoning that it's a reasonable starting point to at least get to know the other's name.
“Sehun,” is the curt reply, and the feeling of wondering whether he has done something to upset the child because the other's expression looks slightly angry strikes a sense of familiarity with Yixing.
“Who's your father?” Yixing has already mentally declared his theory unlikely, that the resemblance to Yifan must be completely coincidental, but a speck of doubt remains.
Against all odds Sehun looks at him as if he's slow-not completely unreasonably, he also feels slow in that particular moment-and then answers in a dead-pan voice, “The guy who lives next door? Wu Yifan?”
Yifan never mentioned having a child is the first thing Yixing thinks of. Then again he does remember hearing a child's voice on the weekends from time to time. He just always assumed it was some other neighbour of his who had their child visit them over the work-free days. The revelation of his neighbour actually being a father makes his brain short-circuit for a moment as a sinking feeling settles into his stomach. Sehun looks like he's six to seven years old, and it makes Yixing reconsider the age he guessed his neighbour to be. He had always assumed the other to be around his age, perhaps one or two years older, but with 23 Yixing for the dear life of him can't imagine having a four or five year old child. Or any child at all for that matter.
While he's having a mental breakdown, Sehun looks around in his hallway before turning to him, his head tilted slightly to the side in question. “You don't know my Papa?”
“I do, I do!” Yixing is quick to assure, nodding fervently as if to undermine his point when he sees the slight insecurity flicker through the child's eyes. He's about to add “He just never told me about you.” but he quickly reconsiders that. He doesn't know whether the child will be upset about his father not talking about him or not, but he knows that it certainly sounds as if Yifan has been trying to keep the fact that he has a son secret.
Then again, Yixing considers that amongst all their casual hallway conversations there probably never was the chance to bring the topic up. “Oh yeah, just so you know, I have a six year old son.” is not exactly something you tell to someone you rarely ever converse with for longer than five to ten minutes.
“Yixing?” Sehun's voice breaks him out of his musings-again-and Yixing splutters as he springs to action. He's spent enough time freaking out and getting lost in his own thoughts when there is a child he should attend to.
At first he leads the little boy to the single room of his flat that triples as living room, bed room and study. It's a little crammed with all his bookshelves, his bed, couch, desk and the wardrobe but Yixing knows how to navigate the room, and he loves it dearly. Perhaps only for the fact that it's his first own flat, which is bound to give the place a special feeling all on its own.
He spends a few minutes fuzzing over what to give Sehun to drink, asking the boy whether he's hungry only to discover that he doesn't have anything but instant noodles left in his kitchen. Despite Sehun's insistence that his father also tends to make him instant noodles on a regular basis-Yixing makes a mental note to give Yifan a lecture on proper food for children the next time he sees him-Yixing insists on stopping by the supermarket to buy ingredients for a freshly cooked lunch. Sehun looks at him funnily at that, as if he would never have expected Yixing to make such an effort, but in the end he willingly trudges along to the supermarket with the adult.
Yixing startles when he feels little fingers reach for his hand as soon as they leave the building, and Sehun immediately recoils when he feels Yixing jump. “Sorry, it's a habit,” he mumbles, huffing as if to say “I'm a big boy, I don't need someone to hold my hand either way.” but his eyes betray the slight sense of dejection.
When Yixing smiles to himself and offers his hand to the little boy wordlessly, he feels like he's regained his bearings for the first time since Sehun appeared in front of his door. “Do you always hold your Papa's hand when you go out?” he asks as soon as gloved children fingers curl around his (and no, his heart doesn't skip a beat because of how adorable that is) and they resume their walk to the closest supermarket.
“Papa always insists on it, even if it means he has to crouch down. Papa is pretty dumb,” the fond expression on Sehun's face belies the insult of his words, and Yixing bites back a fond chuckle because the boy might interpret it as him not being taken seriously.
“Sounds pretty dumb,” Yixing agrees instead, and Sehun's answering grin makes him feel like he finally found some common ground with the little boy. It certainly sets a more talkative side free in Sehun as he starts recounting all the things that make his daddy lame. Every laugh of Yixing's only spurs him on to talk with more excitement, and as soon as they reach the supermarket there doesn't seem to be any sort of reserve, awkwardness or shyness left in the boy. Instead he drags Yixing by the hand towards all the food he wants to eat. Yixing insists on picking up all the vegetables for their lunch first, undeterred by Sehun's pout, no matter how cute it is. He does however allow the boy to chose one junk food item-mainly because junk food is Yixing's own guilty pleasure so he can't possibly deny Sehun.
They're browsing through the aisle with all the baking ingredients because Yixing ran out of sugar when suddenly an idea strikes him on how to keep the child busy for the rest of the afternoon-he doesn't know when Yifan will be back from work after all.
❄❄❄
Yixing almost doesn't hear the doorbell, too busy singing along loudly to the Christmas songs blasting from the bluetooth speakers he's carried into the kitchen. When it does register with him that the electronic ringing isn't part of the song, he jumps up and rushes out with an instruction to Sehun to not touch anything that's either hot or sharp. He still hears the faint “Aye aye”drifting from the kitchen, then he's already skidding to a halt at his front door. In a futile attempt to make himself look a bit more presentable at least, he wipes his hands on the apron tied around his waist. For a second he contemplates raking his fingers through his hair but he deems it a futile action-more likely than not he would do more damage like that than he would do good.
So he just pulls the door open, the “I'm sorry I made you wait.” on his lips but the words die before he can voice them because as soon as the hallway comes into his field of vision, he sees Yifan taking a step back to bow at almost 90 degree.
“Oh my god Yixing, I'm so sorry for troubling you, thank you so much for looking... after....” Yifan's comes to a halt in his passionate apology and expression of gratitude when he straightens his back and takes in Yixing's appearance for the first time. “...Why do you have flour on your nose?”
Yixing jumps a little, hurrying to wipe his hand over his face to get the white powder off, and then he levels his neighbour with a smile. “I guess the baking got a little wild. But please, come in, Sehun and I are still in the middle of finishing up the cookies.”
Still looking a bit dumbfounded Yifan just nods and follows the younger man inside. “Sehun, your father is here,” Yixing calls as he makes his way back into the kitchen, even though he is pretty sure the boy has already put two and two together.
“Smells so good...” Yifan notes, slight wonderment clinging to his voice as he tacitly follows Yixing down the hallway, and the smaller male chuckles to himself, inhaling deeply. The aroma of freshly baked cookies is still one of the best things about Christmas, and he hums in contentment.
“Thanks, your son worked hard,” Yixing says, only realizing that calling Sehun “your son” might come off a little accusatory when Yifan looks at him with a troubled expression, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. The taller male catches Yixing by the wrist, stopping him before he can get back to the kitchen.
“I'm sorry for not telling you Yixing. About Sehun,” Yifan says, looking at Yixing imploringly as if he has to ask for forgiveness, “I just didn't know when it would possibly be the right time to bring up something like having a child.”
“It's fine, Yifan, you don't have to justify yourself or anything. I was only a little surprised at first, that's all. But come on, while I trust Sehun to be a obedient child I don't want to leave him around kitchenware and hot ovens unsupervised for too long.”
“Obedient... if only you knew...” Yifan mumbles behind him, but before Yixing can turn back to him with a questioning expression, they've already reached the kitchen.
“Papa!” Sehun exclaims excitedly when he sees Yifan, but he doesn't move from the stool he has to use in order to reach the counter where he and Yixing have been cutting out cookies. “Yixing-ge and I have been making cookies! Don't they smell great?”
“They do indeed smell amazing,” Yifan agrees, and Yixing startles when the elder male uses Mandarin instead of English. ”I hope Shixun didn't give you too much trouble today,” he adds in Yixing's direction, catching his confused expression. “What's wrong?”
“Shixun?” Yixing asks because it's the first thing that comes to his mind, “He introduced himself as Sehun?”
Yifan chuckles and rubs his neck slightly as if he's embarrassed. “Well, Shixun is his Chinese name because 'Sehun' doesn't really work well in Mandarin.”
“...and he speaks Mandarin?” It's a stupid question, Yixing guesses, seeing as Yifan is Chinese and Sehun therefore must be at least half-Chinese. But the boy has spoken to Yixing in English the whole day and so the younger male had automatically taken to answering in English as well, not questioning the matter for the boy surely had grown up abroad.
The elder's eyebrows furrow as if he doesn't quite understand Yixing's question, or as if he doesn't understand why Yixing is asking it, but then realization dawns on his face and he turns back to his son. “Shixun, did you force Yixing to speak English the whole day? I told you he's Chinese and that you should practice your Mandarin with him.”
Sehun-Shixun?-pouts at being scolded, his lower lip pushed out in a way that makes him look utterly adorable and Yixing wonders how Yifan can ever stay strict with him. “But Mandarin is so exhausting and confusing,” he complains, his tones slurred and slightly off, but still understandable.
“It's fine,” Yixing intercepts, trying to ease Yifan's worries, “I could use the practice, my English is still lacking.”
Yifan looks about ready to oppose, but then he reconsiders. Instead he exhales, and Yixing only realizes how tense the taller male had been when his body visibly relaxes, as if some weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Yixing guesses that having to send his son over to his neighbour out of the blue is indeed a reason for being worried.
“Seriously, thank you so much Yixing, for looking over him. I'm sorry I didn't ask you properly or get to warn you at least. There was a meeting scheduled at really short notice that I simply couldn't miss out on and the club he usually goes to after school is closed a week before and after Christmas,” Yifan hurries to explain himself.
Yixing touches the taller's wrist gently, effectively silencing him. “It's fine. I was surprised, but he's cute. It was fun watching over him.”
Yifan cracks a tentative smile himself in response, as if he can't quite believe yet that he's so easily forgiven for burdening the younger male with the care of his child without even requesting Yixing's help properly beforehand. Even if he had wanted to Yixing wouldn't have been able to fight the way his own mouth stretches into a smile. There's just something about the way elder is looking at him, all sheepish and insecure but also relieved and with something akin to fondness, and suddenly Yixing feels warm and content. The smell of the freshly baked cookies and the Christmas are only fostering the feeling.
The moment is only broken when Sehun lets the cookie cutter he'd been using up until then clatter against the counter rather carelessly, whining some inarticulate complaint because he's being ignored. They both startle, and Yixing turns towards the boy quickly in hopes of hiding the colour rushing to his cheeks. He doesn't even know why he's blushing, it's not as if anything happened between them, but somehow Yixing still finds himself fumbling, hurrying to join Sehun in cutting out Santa shaped cookies.
“You can help too if you want to,” he addresses Yifan without looking at him, not sure yet what effect facing his neighbour again would have on him in that moment. There's a beat of silence, then Yixing hears the rustle of Yifan taking off his jacket. From the corner of his eye he catches the elder rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, and Yixing reconsiders his offer because Yifan isn't exactly dressed in a way meant for kitchen work.
Half an hour later Yixing realizes that his initial doubts were unfounded because at least the white flour is barely visible on the elder's clothes, while Yixing and Sehun look as if they walked right through a snowstorm. Yixing also understands why Yifan only ever seems to make instant noodles for his son, because he has never before witnessed anyone being as clumsy in the kitchen as his neigbouhr.
“So that's why Sehun only gets instant noodles at your place?” Yixing points to the tray of burnt cookies, the only tray they had tasked Yifan with watching before banning him from doing anything else but cutting out cookies-and even that only under Sehun's strict supervision, that is.
Yifan huffs out a breath of air, as if he means to protest, but Sehun is faster than him. “He once set off the fire alarm trying to make waffles, and now he's scared of using anything else but the water cooker,” the little boy pipes in before Yifan can stop him with a reproaching hiss of his name.
Yixing can't help but laugh at the elder's embarrassment, and leans towards Sehun as if to whisper conspiratorially, but his voice is way too loud to pass as a whisper when he speaks. “You really have a tough time staying with your dad, don't you? Always need to look after him.”
Sehun only nods in agreement, while Yifan splutters to protect some of his dignity at least. “I don't only make instant noodles! I also cook amazing scrambled eggs!”
“Scrambled eggs,” Yixing repeats in a deadpan voice, raising an eyebrow. “Scrambled eggs and instant noodles don't really count as nutritious meals.” He hears Sehun snicker at his father's predicament, and it's a spur of the moment decision to add, “Perhaps I should come over sometime to ensure you're both well-fed.”
When Yifan's eyes widen slightly Yixing realizes what he just said, what he implied, and all of a sudden his whole demeanour changes. The teasing edge falls from his posture, instead being replaced by him blushing scarlet. Yifan just gapes at him, as if he himself doesn't know how to react. And is that blood rising to his cheeks as well?
The only one who doesn't seem to catch the suddenly awkward atmosphere is Sehun, who just squeals happily at the idea of having Yixing cook for him more often. “We can do that, right? Have Yixing-gege come over to cook, right? He's really good at cooking!”
Yixing only blushes harder, if that is even possible, and tries to shush the child. “I don't want to impose on your father. You can't force him to invite me into your flat,” he explains, squatting down to be at eye level with Sehun just so that he doesn't have to face Yifan any longer.
“No, it's me, I can't accept you going to such lengths as cooking for us. I can always order take-out food-“ Yifan is quick to assure him, but when Yixing's eyes narrow jugdingly at the mention of take-out food, he grows silent, continuing in a small voice. “-or something. We will figure something out, you don't have to worry about us.”
“It's fine, actually, I love cooking and it's always more fun when there are more people around.” Yixing doesn't know where he takes that boldness from, especially with his face still glowing hotly, and Yifan seems torn between agreeing and refusing politely.
“I love Yixing-gege's cooking,” Sehun declares, as if that settles the matter, and in a way it does-Yifan doesn't look as if he could ever deny his son anything. After looking from his father to Yixing and back, the younger furrows his eyebrows in contemplation, making him resemble Yifan even further. “Are you okay? You're red,” he asks, splaying his small hands against the colour of Yixing's cheeks, feeling for the warmth there.
Yixing's still embarrassed, but he chuckles fondly at the gesture nonetheless, and covers the boy's hands with his own as he lets his mouth stretch in a smile. “I am fine, don't worry. Just excited to cook for you and your papa.” And it's not even a lie. (Seeing Yifan blush even brighter from the corner of his eyes is a very welcome bonus.)
They end the afternoon with a cup of hot chocolate for Sehun and a cup of Yixing's favourite Christmas tea spiced with cinnamon for each of the adults. Yixing also packs most of the cookies in a box for Yifan to take with him, arguing that there's no way he can eat all of them by himself when Yifan intends to refuse. So the elder accepts the box full of baked goods and bows again in gratitude, making Yixing embarrassed once more as the younger splutters that it was a delight to get to know Sehun.
The silence that falls on his apartment as soon as the door closes behind the father and son duo feels strangely foreign for all it's supposed familiarity, but Yixing decides not to dwell on that, instead moving to clean up what's left of the mess the three of them created in the kitchen.
It's hours later, when he's already snuggled into a blanket on his couch, a book in his lap and another cup of tea resting on his couch table, that his doorbell rings again. What is it with today and unexpected visitors, Yixing thinks to himself as he gets up. He has an idea who might be waiting for him in the hallway, and it is indeed Yifan's tall figure that greets him as soon as he pulls the door open.
“Hello again,” the smaller says, half amused and half curious, “Do you want to come in?”
But Yifan shakes his head and smiles shyly. “I only wanted to thank you again for taking care of Shixun. I just put him to bed, and he couldn't stop talking about you, so I guess you two had a good day.”
“Really, Yifan, I already told you, it's nothing,” Yixing waves the other's words off, hoping to keep his blush under control this time. He's always enjoyed talking to the elder, his heart picking up a beat whenever he hears that smooth deep voice, but this constant blushing-business is new-and Yixing thinks that it's ridiculous and should stop.
“No, you saved me today, Yixing. I don't know what I would have done without you,” Yifan insists, and yeah, no, Yixing has definitely lost the battle against the blush.
“It was only natural. That's what you do when you're friends, help each other out.”
Yifan stays silent for a moment in thought. Then he exhales, as if it takes some effort to accept Yixing's words, but when he lifts his gaze to the smaller again, he's smiling. “Thanks anyways. I'm just so happy you were still in town.”
“Where else would I be?” Yixing tilts his head slightly, because he doesn't remember ever having given the impression of going anywhere else.
“In China?” Yifan answers with a question himself, slightly confused. “I mean, it's so close to Christmas, I feared you might have already left for Changsha since your holidays started last week.”
And Yixing does his best to keep the regretful edge out of his smile, to not make it look as if Yifan's words remind him of a small gap in his heart but the way the elder's features bunch up in concern and a hint of guilt tells him that he failed. “I'm not going home for Christmas,” he says, even though it might be superfluous since Yifan seems to have understood that much already. “It's not worth the money and the travel time, just to spend perhaps three or four days at home. I have a lot of university stuff to catch up with anyways, so I can spend the holidays in a more useful manner than with being in planes and airports.”
It's what he's been telling himself all this time, but Yifan looks as displeased with the arguments as Yixing himself feels deep down. “Do you have any plans for Christmas then?” The question is tentative, as if Yifan's scared of upsetting the younger any further, and Yixing thinks it's endearing.
“Well, I'll probably have a romantic dinner with my text books. Or watch Home Alone. It'd be fitting, right?” he attempts to crack a joke, but Yifan is utterly unconvinced, more troubled then before even, so Yixing eases a smile onto his features, a more believable one this time. “I'm serious Yifan, you don't need to worry about me. I'm a grown-up, I can survive spending Christmas by myself for once.”
“Do you want to celebrate Christmas with Shixun and me?” Yifan's suddenly blurts out, as if he couldn't stop the thought on the way from his brain to his mouth, and even though he looks slightly embarrassed afterwards, he doesn't take the words back. Instead he elaborates, “I mean, since you don't have plans for Christmas either way... And Shixun would love having you around, I'm sure of that. It won't be anything special, but we can put on some Chinese Christmas songs and I know a restaurant that makes awesome Hong Shao Rou.”
Yixing is tempted to shout yes please, I want to come over immediately, because a Christmas over at his neighbours place with the bundle of energy that is Sehun sounds so much more appealing than being by himself in his flat, but his decency holds him back. “I really appreciate the offer, but I don't want to impose on your family's Christmas celebrations. I'll be fine.”
“You're not imposing,” Yifan insists, “I want you to come over. Regard it as me paying you back for looking over Shixun, if it makes you feel better.” When Yixing still hesitates, the elder leans forward slightly to fix him with an intent gaze. “I insist, Yixing. Come and do me the favour of celebrating Christmas Eve with Shixun and me.”
And even though Yixing still wants to refuse, mostly because he's feeling embarrassed again and doesn't think that being around Yifan and his son for a holiday as intimate as Christmas will help him with his blushing problem. But Yifan looks downright hopeful, and the part of Yixing that's been feeling lonely looking at Christmas lights and listening to Christmas songs wants nothing more than to agree excitedly. Eventually his resolve crumbles under the insistent gaze of the other, and he averts his eyes, answering in a low voice. “If it's really okay...”
Yifan grins so brightly in response that Yixing startles for a second, taken aback by how excited the taller male looks. Somehow he manages to look even more handsome like this, and Yixing barely manages to get another word out afterwards when Yifan exclaims that it's decided then, and that he'll write Yixing the time when the younger should come over on the 24th.
Still slightly overwhelmed by the sudden change in his plans for Christmas Yixing just agrees, and out of habit bows politely when Yifan wishes him a goodnight and retreats to his own flat eventually. At night he's lying in bed, wondering whether his heart is still beating faster than usual in excitement or whether that has simply become the normal pace of his pulse by now. His eyebrows furrow against the darkness of his room when he realizes that Yifan said that he would write him, but they never exchanged phone numbers.
Yixing understands what the elder meant with “write you” when he fishes a handwritten card out of his mailbox the next morning. The script on it is scrawled and the student smiles to himself when he trots back up the steps to his apartment. The card doesn't really tell him much besides the fact that he should come over to Yifan's at any time between three and seven, depending on when he's free and whether he wants to help with preparing the flat for the Christmas dinner or not (immediately followed by Yifan assuring him that he doesn't have to feel obliged to help with preparations or cleaning up afterwards for that matter. It's all chill as the card states, and he can't help the laugh that escapes him because Yifan manages to truly sound like a lame father when using that line).
It's two more days to Christmas, and Yixing pins the note to his fridge with the penguin magnet he bought as a souvenir when he went to the Biodome with his friends from university last month.
The next day the card is the first thing he consciously sees in the morning, and it catches him off-guard when he notices that he's actually looking forward to Christmas Eve, the anticipation as strong as he can't remember it being ever since he was a lot younger. He had resigned himself to an uneventful Christmas this year, one that might not even feel much like Christmas at all, but opposite to his expectations he's giddy when he heads out to look for presents to give to Sehun and Yifan. Usually he's not one for last-minute-present-shopping-his package full of presents for his family has already arrived in Changsha a good week ago-but it's not as if he knew he was going to spend Christmas at his neighbours place.
It proves to be difficult to find something for either of them, especially because Yixing has to be careful to pick out things that have a reasonable price. Yifan will most likely tell him that he wouldn't have needed to get any present either way, but when being invited over it's only polite to not come empty-handed, and that rule applies even more for Christmas Eve. In the end he settles on a Lego knight set for Sehun because he reasons that he should be playing it safe with Lego knights as a present for a boy of Sehun's age. Yifan turns out to be an even tougher challenge, mainly because Yixing knows the other male and yet discovers he also doesn't know him. They've talked, but essentially all their conversations consisted solely of small talk, and Yixing has troubles recalling anything that could help him with the selection process.
Minutes later he stands in front of the isle with cooking supplies and wonders whether getting the elder a pot and a cooking book could be taken as an insult, rubbing salt into his wound. Deciding that yes, it would be a bit of an offensive present, Yixing decides against buying it at first, but then he stops by the bookshop of the shopping centre, and the temptation flares up again when he sees “Cooking Fun: 121 Simple Recipes to Make with Kids” and “Kids Can Cook: Vegetarian Recipes” standing in the shelves.
On his way back home he's torn between laughing crazily and turning on his heel to return the book and pan and switch them to something like socks, or a scarf, something pretty much nondescript. A safe present. However when he arrives home, he's still carrying his original purchases, and after he's wrapped them up he tells himself what's done is done. Imagining Yifan's expression is actually fun, and Yixing finds himself smiling at the mental image of his neighbour looking baffled.
When he moves to prepare dinner later that evening he catches sight of the note again, but his smile quickly wavers as the reality of the situation sinks in. He's going to celebrate Christmas with Yifan and his son, and suddenly he doubts whether he's even ready for that. Ever since their baking session Yixing has been forced to reflect a little, and he arrived at the conclusion that he might, perhaps, have a teeny tiny crush on that handsome neighbour of his. However there's a child in the picture now, and the fact that Yifan is a father suddenly makes it so much more complicated to imagine to date him, even though Yixing adores Sehun after spending just one afternoon with him (which might be due to the fact that for once he found a child who actually likes him back, unlike all his cousins and children of friends who always started crying when Yixing was with them.)
Yixing is a student who is only here in Montreal to attend university, and he has no idea yet where his life will take him afterwards. He's always planned on having kids, but that doesn't mean he feels ready to take on the responsibility of dating someone who already has one. Yifan doesn't seem to be looking for a parental figure for Sehun-if he's looking for anyone at all, that is-, but if Yixing is going to become a part of Yifan's life, he'll automatically also become part of Sehun's life and that has to be taken serious.
Yixing knows that he's overthinking things. For one, it's not as if Yifan asked him for his hand in marriage or anything. He just took pity on Yixing being alone on Christmas Eve and so, being the nice neighbours that he is, offered the younger to share a bit of the festive feel of being with your family during the holidays. It's an offer made out of compassion, not because Yifan has any other intentions or is interested in Yixing.
And yet this feels like more than just a dinner over at a friends place, and when he's already burrowed in his blankets on his bed, waiting for sleep to claim him, a small voice inside his head prompts Yixing to wonder whether he's only worrying about all these things because of wishful thinking. Perhaps he just wants the slight blush he witnessed on the other's cheeks a few days prior to mean that the elder is interested in him as well. Perhaps he's seeing signs that aren't there to begin with.
( part 2)
Rating: PG
Length: ~13.3k
Summary: Expecting to spend Christmas alone in a foreign country Yixing is more than surprised to end up at his neighbour's flat for Christmas Eve.
A/N: Written for the wonderful Mells as part of our little Fanxing Secret Santa exchange. The title means “The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.“ but since the German version of that is much shorter I decided to go with that one. Also I took a lot of creative liberties with Montreal and Changsha I'm afraid since I've never been to either city but I hope you'll forgive me that. A (very) belated Merry Christmas to you all, I love you all <3
Liebe Geht Durch Den Magen
The wind is merciless, driving right through Yixing’s jacket and sweater, and even when he buries his face deeper into his woollen scarf, he can still feel the sharp cold cutting into his skin like an icy blade. The winter in Montreal is cold, so much colder than what he’s used to in Changsha, and even the four layers of clothes he’s donned don’t seem to help with shielding him from it. During the day he’s fine, especially if the sun is shining, but as soon as night falls or it begins to rain or even snow, the temperatures drop. Even though he’s born in autumn he considers himself made for Changsha summers with an average of 35° Celsius, not for winters where temperatures a good bit below zero degree are normal. So he futilely tries to wrap himself even tighter into his coat, gloved hands shoved into his pockets, head held low to avoid the wind as best as he can. Since he’s still cold, he quickens his steps in the hope of arriving back at his flat faster.
It’s the middle of December, and the streets are covered in a soft blanket of snow. Yixing likes the sight of it, not used to snow from back home. Montreal is a beautiful city, especially when decked out in Christmas illuminations and the mellow whiteness of snow but while Yixing likes the view he can’t help the bouts of homesickness. It’s not the city itself that makes him reminisce, being too different from his hometown, but the Christmas songs blasting in every shopping centre or coffee shop he enters remind him of his mother putting on Christmas CDs as soon as December starts, singing along to the songs written in a foreign language she barely understands; all the fairy lights and colourful, glowing Christmas figures taking him back to when he would go with his grandparents to look at the newly put-up illumination, walking down streets lined by lit-up trees together with them.
He is abroad for the first time in his life, having arrived in Canada only four months prior, just in time to settle into his new flat and sort out all his visits to the authorities before his courses started in late September. It's been long enough for a sense of normalcy to have settled in by now, but he still manages to discover new and exciting facets of the city. Yet, this is his first Christmas away from his family, and no amount of excitement about the new experiences Montreal brings can stop him from feeling a little lonely at the thought. A lot of the other foreign students in his class are going to hop on a plane as soon as their last lecture lets them out in the following week, but with a heavy heart Yixing decided to resist the temptation. He is lucky enough to have scored a scholarship, and his parents are sending him a monthly allowance, but despite that he still has to watch his money. Flying back home to Changsha in time for Christmas simply is something he can’t afford, and he has arranged himself with that. It would be an unreasonable waste of money he tells himself whenever he feels like his apartment is too quiet and not festive at all.
He lets out a relieved huff as soon as he has finally makes it to his apartment building. His cold fingers fumble with the keys clumsily, making him take slightly longer than normal to unlock the entrance door, but eventually a rush of warm air greets him from inside. He shivers softly at the sudden difference in temperature as he hurries to enter his apartment building.
“Cold outside, isn’t it?” The voice is deep and familiar, as is the accented mandarin, and Yixing spins around to find the speaker standing in front of the mailboxes. Yifan smiles at him in greeting, the same gentle smile that he always seems to wear when he meets the younger, and Yixing immediately relaxes at the sight.
“Freezing,” he replies with a smile that doesn’t seem to fit the complaining tone of his voice at all, but the stretch of his mouth only widens when Yifan answers with a laugh.
“Yeah, I guess it’s a bit different from what you’re used to from Changsha,” the elder agrees, moving to the side when Yixing joins him to check his own mail. There are a lot of ads, but he also spots a Christmas card buried in between the colourful brochures.
“It’s not as if it doesn’t ever get cold in Changsha during winter,” Yixing acquiesces, his attention returning to Yifan who falls into step beside him when the student moves towards the staircase. “But it’s usually not this cold until January or February.”
Yifan hums in understanding and while they ascend towards their apartments they fall into their normal comfortable small talk. Yixing asks the taller man about his work, while Yifan in turn inquires about Yixing’s classes and how ready he feels for his exams the next week. It’s a familiar conversation, and by the time they reach their respective flats Yixing feels slightly regretful, not wanting to part with the other just yet.
“Well, I’ll see you around,” Yifan says when the lock to his door clicks open, and Yixing answers him with a smile and a slight nod of his head, muttering a quick response before following the other’s example and entering his flat.
He finds himself humming Christmas tunes happily while he hangs up his coat and unpacks the groceries he had bought on his way back home from university. Meeting his next door neighbour always manages to put him into a good mood, and Yixing can’t even properly tell why, but he puts it down to the fact that he can speak in Mandarin with the elder.
While Yixing’s level of french never went past “Bonjour”, “Bonsoir” and “Je ne parles pas francais.”, he isn’t uncomfortable with English per se. He has studied hard during his high school days at mastering the language, always with the goal of wanting to go abroad for university in mind. It was his personal ambition that had him look for English language partners in order to reach the level of proficiency that is required in order to partake in higher education. Years of familiarizing himself with English and polishing his own skills have brought him to a point where he doesn’t have any problems with understanding the foreign language, and with the exception of very few times when he draws a blank, speaking also doesn't trouble him. And yet, there’s something relaxing, comforting, downright soothing in hearing the familiar tones roll off Yifan’s tongue. It has Yixing realize that no matter how comfortable he is with English, the sound of his mother tongue still puts him at ease, and has him feel more like himself.
He reasons that that’s why he seeks conversation with his neighbour so often; because he misses home, and he longs for the familiarity that Yifan’s Mandarin provides. It doesn’t matter that it’s accented with hints of Canadian English and doesn’t have any traces of the Changsha dialect he’s been surrounded with for most of his life; Yixing still finds himself always being in a better mood whenever he converses with the older man.
Yixing hadn't expected to meet a fellow Chinese-though Yifan technically hasn't lived in China for so long that Yixing is not sure if the other doesn't qualify as Canadian more than as Chinese, but it's the same difference for him because if nothing else they still share the same heritage. It makes Yixing feel utterly happy about having taken up the offer of his mother's friend who rented him his flat at special family-friend conditions. He had been very indecisive at first, torn between moving into his university's dorm or renting an own flat. Both choices had positive and negative aspects, but in the end the unbeatably cheap option of moving into his family friend's apartment had won over being surrounded by a lot of people from foreign cultures.
Actually Yixing thinks he shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that there's another Chinese person living in his building, going by the fact that the landlord is Chinese as well, and yet he found himself rooted in place when he first ran into his neighbour. Although his petrification might also have been due to the fact that Yifan is undeniably handsome; tall, broad-shouldered, distinctly cut facial features and sharp eyes. At first Yixing had been a little intimidated by the set of the elder's strong eyebrows, but it only took one gummy smile and one sentence spoken in a gentle voice by Yifan for the smaller man to realize that despite Yifan's perpetually irritated looking expression he is a very soft person in reality. Which only adds to his attractiveness, Yixing has to admit, but he doesn't allow himself to dwell on the thought too long. He has come to Canada to study, not to indulge in romance, and the chances of his neighbour swinging the same way Yixing seem very small in the younger's eyes. So he contents himself with permitting himself a small crush, only under the condition that his attraction is blamed on the fact that Yifan is Chinese rather than making it about the man himself.
It is safer like that.
❄❄❄
It is a week later, just three days before Christmas, that Yixing's doorbell rings. He startles from his seat at his desk, not expecting any visitors. It must be the postman, he reasons. Unexpected packages are normal around Christmas time after all. However when he pulls his apartment's door open, he's greeted with emptiness. Confused he looks down, wondering whether the postman just placed the delivery on his doormat and left, not wanting to wait the thirty seconds it took Yixing to get from his living room to the front door. His eyes widen slightly when he sees the true source of the ringing standing there. And it is no out-of-the-blue Christmas present. Instead a little boy is looking up at Yixing with an air of confidence that makes it seem unlikely that he is lost.
“Are you Yixing?” the child asks in English with a slight lisp, and Yixing is so dumbstruck that he simply nods ineloquently.
“Papa isn't home yet so he said I should stay with you,” the boy continues, and it doesn't even sound like a question, but rather like a statement. As if there's no doubt at all that Yixing will watch over him while the child's father is apparently unavailable. There's a moment when Yixing considers whether the little boy has actually mistook him for someone else, but he highly doubts that there are any other Yixing's living close by. Even as confused as he is, Yixing still replies with a slightly stumbling, “Please come in.” and steps to the side to wave the boy inside, who passes by him without any second thoughts.
Once he's pulled the door closed he halts in his steps again. The child is still standing in the middle of his hallway, looking up at him with expectant eyes, as if waiting to be entertained. Yixing's brain blanks for a moment, and he wonders how the hell he ended up with a child he doesn't even know in his custody, but it's not as if he could have just denied the boy entrance to his flat. It would have been extremely irresponsible to just leave him outside without anyone to watch over him, so Yixing didn't really have a choice.
“What's your name?” he asks, reasoning that it's a reasonable starting point to at least get to know the other's name.
“Sehun,” is the curt reply, and the feeling of wondering whether he has done something to upset the child because the other's expression looks slightly angry strikes a sense of familiarity with Yixing.
“Who's your father?” Yixing has already mentally declared his theory unlikely, that the resemblance to Yifan must be completely coincidental, but a speck of doubt remains.
Against all odds Sehun looks at him as if he's slow-not completely unreasonably, he also feels slow in that particular moment-and then answers in a dead-pan voice, “The guy who lives next door? Wu Yifan?”
Yifan never mentioned having a child is the first thing Yixing thinks of. Then again he does remember hearing a child's voice on the weekends from time to time. He just always assumed it was some other neighbour of his who had their child visit them over the work-free days. The revelation of his neighbour actually being a father makes his brain short-circuit for a moment as a sinking feeling settles into his stomach. Sehun looks like he's six to seven years old, and it makes Yixing reconsider the age he guessed his neighbour to be. He had always assumed the other to be around his age, perhaps one or two years older, but with 23 Yixing for the dear life of him can't imagine having a four or five year old child. Or any child at all for that matter.
While he's having a mental breakdown, Sehun looks around in his hallway before turning to him, his head tilted slightly to the side in question. “You don't know my Papa?”
“I do, I do!” Yixing is quick to assure, nodding fervently as if to undermine his point when he sees the slight insecurity flicker through the child's eyes. He's about to add “He just never told me about you.” but he quickly reconsiders that. He doesn't know whether the child will be upset about his father not talking about him or not, but he knows that it certainly sounds as if Yifan has been trying to keep the fact that he has a son secret.
Then again, Yixing considers that amongst all their casual hallway conversations there probably never was the chance to bring the topic up. “Oh yeah, just so you know, I have a six year old son.” is not exactly something you tell to someone you rarely ever converse with for longer than five to ten minutes.
“Yixing?” Sehun's voice breaks him out of his musings-again-and Yixing splutters as he springs to action. He's spent enough time freaking out and getting lost in his own thoughts when there is a child he should attend to.
At first he leads the little boy to the single room of his flat that triples as living room, bed room and study. It's a little crammed with all his bookshelves, his bed, couch, desk and the wardrobe but Yixing knows how to navigate the room, and he loves it dearly. Perhaps only for the fact that it's his first own flat, which is bound to give the place a special feeling all on its own.
He spends a few minutes fuzzing over what to give Sehun to drink, asking the boy whether he's hungry only to discover that he doesn't have anything but instant noodles left in his kitchen. Despite Sehun's insistence that his father also tends to make him instant noodles on a regular basis-Yixing makes a mental note to give Yifan a lecture on proper food for children the next time he sees him-Yixing insists on stopping by the supermarket to buy ingredients for a freshly cooked lunch. Sehun looks at him funnily at that, as if he would never have expected Yixing to make such an effort, but in the end he willingly trudges along to the supermarket with the adult.
Yixing startles when he feels little fingers reach for his hand as soon as they leave the building, and Sehun immediately recoils when he feels Yixing jump. “Sorry, it's a habit,” he mumbles, huffing as if to say “I'm a big boy, I don't need someone to hold my hand either way.” but his eyes betray the slight sense of dejection.
When Yixing smiles to himself and offers his hand to the little boy wordlessly, he feels like he's regained his bearings for the first time since Sehun appeared in front of his door. “Do you always hold your Papa's hand when you go out?” he asks as soon as gloved children fingers curl around his (and no, his heart doesn't skip a beat because of how adorable that is) and they resume their walk to the closest supermarket.
“Papa always insists on it, even if it means he has to crouch down. Papa is pretty dumb,” the fond expression on Sehun's face belies the insult of his words, and Yixing bites back a fond chuckle because the boy might interpret it as him not being taken seriously.
“Sounds pretty dumb,” Yixing agrees instead, and Sehun's answering grin makes him feel like he finally found some common ground with the little boy. It certainly sets a more talkative side free in Sehun as he starts recounting all the things that make his daddy lame. Every laugh of Yixing's only spurs him on to talk with more excitement, and as soon as they reach the supermarket there doesn't seem to be any sort of reserve, awkwardness or shyness left in the boy. Instead he drags Yixing by the hand towards all the food he wants to eat. Yixing insists on picking up all the vegetables for their lunch first, undeterred by Sehun's pout, no matter how cute it is. He does however allow the boy to chose one junk food item-mainly because junk food is Yixing's own guilty pleasure so he can't possibly deny Sehun.
They're browsing through the aisle with all the baking ingredients because Yixing ran out of sugar when suddenly an idea strikes him on how to keep the child busy for the rest of the afternoon-he doesn't know when Yifan will be back from work after all.
❄❄❄
Yixing almost doesn't hear the doorbell, too busy singing along loudly to the Christmas songs blasting from the bluetooth speakers he's carried into the kitchen. When it does register with him that the electronic ringing isn't part of the song, he jumps up and rushes out with an instruction to Sehun to not touch anything that's either hot or sharp. He still hears the faint “Aye aye”drifting from the kitchen, then he's already skidding to a halt at his front door. In a futile attempt to make himself look a bit more presentable at least, he wipes his hands on the apron tied around his waist. For a second he contemplates raking his fingers through his hair but he deems it a futile action-more likely than not he would do more damage like that than he would do good.
So he just pulls the door open, the “I'm sorry I made you wait.” on his lips but the words die before he can voice them because as soon as the hallway comes into his field of vision, he sees Yifan taking a step back to bow at almost 90 degree.
“Oh my god Yixing, I'm so sorry for troubling you, thank you so much for looking... after....” Yifan's comes to a halt in his passionate apology and expression of gratitude when he straightens his back and takes in Yixing's appearance for the first time. “...Why do you have flour on your nose?”
Yixing jumps a little, hurrying to wipe his hand over his face to get the white powder off, and then he levels his neighbour with a smile. “I guess the baking got a little wild. But please, come in, Sehun and I are still in the middle of finishing up the cookies.”
Still looking a bit dumbfounded Yifan just nods and follows the younger man inside. “Sehun, your father is here,” Yixing calls as he makes his way back into the kitchen, even though he is pretty sure the boy has already put two and two together.
“Smells so good...” Yifan notes, slight wonderment clinging to his voice as he tacitly follows Yixing down the hallway, and the smaller male chuckles to himself, inhaling deeply. The aroma of freshly baked cookies is still one of the best things about Christmas, and he hums in contentment.
“Thanks, your son worked hard,” Yixing says, only realizing that calling Sehun “your son” might come off a little accusatory when Yifan looks at him with a troubled expression, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. The taller male catches Yixing by the wrist, stopping him before he can get back to the kitchen.
“I'm sorry for not telling you Yixing. About Sehun,” Yifan says, looking at Yixing imploringly as if he has to ask for forgiveness, “I just didn't know when it would possibly be the right time to bring up something like having a child.”
“It's fine, Yifan, you don't have to justify yourself or anything. I was only a little surprised at first, that's all. But come on, while I trust Sehun to be a obedient child I don't want to leave him around kitchenware and hot ovens unsupervised for too long.”
“Obedient... if only you knew...” Yifan mumbles behind him, but before Yixing can turn back to him with a questioning expression, they've already reached the kitchen.
“Papa!” Sehun exclaims excitedly when he sees Yifan, but he doesn't move from the stool he has to use in order to reach the counter where he and Yixing have been cutting out cookies. “Yixing-ge and I have been making cookies! Don't they smell great?”
“They do indeed smell amazing,” Yifan agrees, and Yixing startles when the elder male uses Mandarin instead of English. ”I hope Shixun didn't give you too much trouble today,” he adds in Yixing's direction, catching his confused expression. “What's wrong?”
“Shixun?” Yixing asks because it's the first thing that comes to his mind, “He introduced himself as Sehun?”
Yifan chuckles and rubs his neck slightly as if he's embarrassed. “Well, Shixun is his Chinese name because 'Sehun' doesn't really work well in Mandarin.”
“...and he speaks Mandarin?” It's a stupid question, Yixing guesses, seeing as Yifan is Chinese and Sehun therefore must be at least half-Chinese. But the boy has spoken to Yixing in English the whole day and so the younger male had automatically taken to answering in English as well, not questioning the matter for the boy surely had grown up abroad.
The elder's eyebrows furrow as if he doesn't quite understand Yixing's question, or as if he doesn't understand why Yixing is asking it, but then realization dawns on his face and he turns back to his son. “Shixun, did you force Yixing to speak English the whole day? I told you he's Chinese and that you should practice your Mandarin with him.”
Sehun-Shixun?-pouts at being scolded, his lower lip pushed out in a way that makes him look utterly adorable and Yixing wonders how Yifan can ever stay strict with him. “But Mandarin is so exhausting and confusing,” he complains, his tones slurred and slightly off, but still understandable.
“It's fine,” Yixing intercepts, trying to ease Yifan's worries, “I could use the practice, my English is still lacking.”
Yifan looks about ready to oppose, but then he reconsiders. Instead he exhales, and Yixing only realizes how tense the taller male had been when his body visibly relaxes, as if some weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Yixing guesses that having to send his son over to his neighbour out of the blue is indeed a reason for being worried.
“Seriously, thank you so much Yixing, for looking over him. I'm sorry I didn't ask you properly or get to warn you at least. There was a meeting scheduled at really short notice that I simply couldn't miss out on and the club he usually goes to after school is closed a week before and after Christmas,” Yifan hurries to explain himself.
Yixing touches the taller's wrist gently, effectively silencing him. “It's fine. I was surprised, but he's cute. It was fun watching over him.”
Yifan cracks a tentative smile himself in response, as if he can't quite believe yet that he's so easily forgiven for burdening the younger male with the care of his child without even requesting Yixing's help properly beforehand. Even if he had wanted to Yixing wouldn't have been able to fight the way his own mouth stretches into a smile. There's just something about the way elder is looking at him, all sheepish and insecure but also relieved and with something akin to fondness, and suddenly Yixing feels warm and content. The smell of the freshly baked cookies and the Christmas are only fostering the feeling.
The moment is only broken when Sehun lets the cookie cutter he'd been using up until then clatter against the counter rather carelessly, whining some inarticulate complaint because he's being ignored. They both startle, and Yixing turns towards the boy quickly in hopes of hiding the colour rushing to his cheeks. He doesn't even know why he's blushing, it's not as if anything happened between them, but somehow Yixing still finds himself fumbling, hurrying to join Sehun in cutting out Santa shaped cookies.
“You can help too if you want to,” he addresses Yifan without looking at him, not sure yet what effect facing his neighbour again would have on him in that moment. There's a beat of silence, then Yixing hears the rustle of Yifan taking off his jacket. From the corner of his eye he catches the elder rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, and Yixing reconsiders his offer because Yifan isn't exactly dressed in a way meant for kitchen work.
Half an hour later Yixing realizes that his initial doubts were unfounded because at least the white flour is barely visible on the elder's clothes, while Yixing and Sehun look as if they walked right through a snowstorm. Yixing also understands why Yifan only ever seems to make instant noodles for his son, because he has never before witnessed anyone being as clumsy in the kitchen as his neigbouhr.
“So that's why Sehun only gets instant noodles at your place?” Yixing points to the tray of burnt cookies, the only tray they had tasked Yifan with watching before banning him from doing anything else but cutting out cookies-and even that only under Sehun's strict supervision, that is.
Yifan huffs out a breath of air, as if he means to protest, but Sehun is faster than him. “He once set off the fire alarm trying to make waffles, and now he's scared of using anything else but the water cooker,” the little boy pipes in before Yifan can stop him with a reproaching hiss of his name.
Yixing can't help but laugh at the elder's embarrassment, and leans towards Sehun as if to whisper conspiratorially, but his voice is way too loud to pass as a whisper when he speaks. “You really have a tough time staying with your dad, don't you? Always need to look after him.”
Sehun only nods in agreement, while Yifan splutters to protect some of his dignity at least. “I don't only make instant noodles! I also cook amazing scrambled eggs!”
“Scrambled eggs,” Yixing repeats in a deadpan voice, raising an eyebrow. “Scrambled eggs and instant noodles don't really count as nutritious meals.” He hears Sehun snicker at his father's predicament, and it's a spur of the moment decision to add, “Perhaps I should come over sometime to ensure you're both well-fed.”
When Yifan's eyes widen slightly Yixing realizes what he just said, what he implied, and all of a sudden his whole demeanour changes. The teasing edge falls from his posture, instead being replaced by him blushing scarlet. Yifan just gapes at him, as if he himself doesn't know how to react. And is that blood rising to his cheeks as well?
The only one who doesn't seem to catch the suddenly awkward atmosphere is Sehun, who just squeals happily at the idea of having Yixing cook for him more often. “We can do that, right? Have Yixing-gege come over to cook, right? He's really good at cooking!”
Yixing only blushes harder, if that is even possible, and tries to shush the child. “I don't want to impose on your father. You can't force him to invite me into your flat,” he explains, squatting down to be at eye level with Sehun just so that he doesn't have to face Yifan any longer.
“No, it's me, I can't accept you going to such lengths as cooking for us. I can always order take-out food-“ Yifan is quick to assure him, but when Yixing's eyes narrow jugdingly at the mention of take-out food, he grows silent, continuing in a small voice. “-or something. We will figure something out, you don't have to worry about us.”
“It's fine, actually, I love cooking and it's always more fun when there are more people around.” Yixing doesn't know where he takes that boldness from, especially with his face still glowing hotly, and Yifan seems torn between agreeing and refusing politely.
“I love Yixing-gege's cooking,” Sehun declares, as if that settles the matter, and in a way it does-Yifan doesn't look as if he could ever deny his son anything. After looking from his father to Yixing and back, the younger furrows his eyebrows in contemplation, making him resemble Yifan even further. “Are you okay? You're red,” he asks, splaying his small hands against the colour of Yixing's cheeks, feeling for the warmth there.
Yixing's still embarrassed, but he chuckles fondly at the gesture nonetheless, and covers the boy's hands with his own as he lets his mouth stretch in a smile. “I am fine, don't worry. Just excited to cook for you and your papa.” And it's not even a lie. (Seeing Yifan blush even brighter from the corner of his eyes is a very welcome bonus.)
They end the afternoon with a cup of hot chocolate for Sehun and a cup of Yixing's favourite Christmas tea spiced with cinnamon for each of the adults. Yixing also packs most of the cookies in a box for Yifan to take with him, arguing that there's no way he can eat all of them by himself when Yifan intends to refuse. So the elder accepts the box full of baked goods and bows again in gratitude, making Yixing embarrassed once more as the younger splutters that it was a delight to get to know Sehun.
The silence that falls on his apartment as soon as the door closes behind the father and son duo feels strangely foreign for all it's supposed familiarity, but Yixing decides not to dwell on that, instead moving to clean up what's left of the mess the three of them created in the kitchen.
It's hours later, when he's already snuggled into a blanket on his couch, a book in his lap and another cup of tea resting on his couch table, that his doorbell rings again. What is it with today and unexpected visitors, Yixing thinks to himself as he gets up. He has an idea who might be waiting for him in the hallway, and it is indeed Yifan's tall figure that greets him as soon as he pulls the door open.
“Hello again,” the smaller says, half amused and half curious, “Do you want to come in?”
But Yifan shakes his head and smiles shyly. “I only wanted to thank you again for taking care of Shixun. I just put him to bed, and he couldn't stop talking about you, so I guess you two had a good day.”
“Really, Yifan, I already told you, it's nothing,” Yixing waves the other's words off, hoping to keep his blush under control this time. He's always enjoyed talking to the elder, his heart picking up a beat whenever he hears that smooth deep voice, but this constant blushing-business is new-and Yixing thinks that it's ridiculous and should stop.
“No, you saved me today, Yixing. I don't know what I would have done without you,” Yifan insists, and yeah, no, Yixing has definitely lost the battle against the blush.
“It was only natural. That's what you do when you're friends, help each other out.”
Yifan stays silent for a moment in thought. Then he exhales, as if it takes some effort to accept Yixing's words, but when he lifts his gaze to the smaller again, he's smiling. “Thanks anyways. I'm just so happy you were still in town.”
“Where else would I be?” Yixing tilts his head slightly, because he doesn't remember ever having given the impression of going anywhere else.
“In China?” Yifan answers with a question himself, slightly confused. “I mean, it's so close to Christmas, I feared you might have already left for Changsha since your holidays started last week.”
And Yixing does his best to keep the regretful edge out of his smile, to not make it look as if Yifan's words remind him of a small gap in his heart but the way the elder's features bunch up in concern and a hint of guilt tells him that he failed. “I'm not going home for Christmas,” he says, even though it might be superfluous since Yifan seems to have understood that much already. “It's not worth the money and the travel time, just to spend perhaps three or four days at home. I have a lot of university stuff to catch up with anyways, so I can spend the holidays in a more useful manner than with being in planes and airports.”
It's what he's been telling himself all this time, but Yifan looks as displeased with the arguments as Yixing himself feels deep down. “Do you have any plans for Christmas then?” The question is tentative, as if Yifan's scared of upsetting the younger any further, and Yixing thinks it's endearing.
“Well, I'll probably have a romantic dinner with my text books. Or watch Home Alone. It'd be fitting, right?” he attempts to crack a joke, but Yifan is utterly unconvinced, more troubled then before even, so Yixing eases a smile onto his features, a more believable one this time. “I'm serious Yifan, you don't need to worry about me. I'm a grown-up, I can survive spending Christmas by myself for once.”
“Do you want to celebrate Christmas with Shixun and me?” Yifan's suddenly blurts out, as if he couldn't stop the thought on the way from his brain to his mouth, and even though he looks slightly embarrassed afterwards, he doesn't take the words back. Instead he elaborates, “I mean, since you don't have plans for Christmas either way... And Shixun would love having you around, I'm sure of that. It won't be anything special, but we can put on some Chinese Christmas songs and I know a restaurant that makes awesome Hong Shao Rou.”
Yixing is tempted to shout yes please, I want to come over immediately, because a Christmas over at his neighbours place with the bundle of energy that is Sehun sounds so much more appealing than being by himself in his flat, but his decency holds him back. “I really appreciate the offer, but I don't want to impose on your family's Christmas celebrations. I'll be fine.”
“You're not imposing,” Yifan insists, “I want you to come over. Regard it as me paying you back for looking over Shixun, if it makes you feel better.” When Yixing still hesitates, the elder leans forward slightly to fix him with an intent gaze. “I insist, Yixing. Come and do me the favour of celebrating Christmas Eve with Shixun and me.”
And even though Yixing still wants to refuse, mostly because he's feeling embarrassed again and doesn't think that being around Yifan and his son for a holiday as intimate as Christmas will help him with his blushing problem. But Yifan looks downright hopeful, and the part of Yixing that's been feeling lonely looking at Christmas lights and listening to Christmas songs wants nothing more than to agree excitedly. Eventually his resolve crumbles under the insistent gaze of the other, and he averts his eyes, answering in a low voice. “If it's really okay...”
Yifan grins so brightly in response that Yixing startles for a second, taken aback by how excited the taller male looks. Somehow he manages to look even more handsome like this, and Yixing barely manages to get another word out afterwards when Yifan exclaims that it's decided then, and that he'll write Yixing the time when the younger should come over on the 24th.
Still slightly overwhelmed by the sudden change in his plans for Christmas Yixing just agrees, and out of habit bows politely when Yifan wishes him a goodnight and retreats to his own flat eventually. At night he's lying in bed, wondering whether his heart is still beating faster than usual in excitement or whether that has simply become the normal pace of his pulse by now. His eyebrows furrow against the darkness of his room when he realizes that Yifan said that he would write him, but they never exchanged phone numbers.
Yixing understands what the elder meant with “write you” when he fishes a handwritten card out of his mailbox the next morning. The script on it is scrawled and the student smiles to himself when he trots back up the steps to his apartment. The card doesn't really tell him much besides the fact that he should come over to Yifan's at any time between three and seven, depending on when he's free and whether he wants to help with preparing the flat for the Christmas dinner or not (immediately followed by Yifan assuring him that he doesn't have to feel obliged to help with preparations or cleaning up afterwards for that matter. It's all chill as the card states, and he can't help the laugh that escapes him because Yifan manages to truly sound like a lame father when using that line).
It's two more days to Christmas, and Yixing pins the note to his fridge with the penguin magnet he bought as a souvenir when he went to the Biodome with his friends from university last month.
The next day the card is the first thing he consciously sees in the morning, and it catches him off-guard when he notices that he's actually looking forward to Christmas Eve, the anticipation as strong as he can't remember it being ever since he was a lot younger. He had resigned himself to an uneventful Christmas this year, one that might not even feel much like Christmas at all, but opposite to his expectations he's giddy when he heads out to look for presents to give to Sehun and Yifan. Usually he's not one for last-minute-present-shopping-his package full of presents for his family has already arrived in Changsha a good week ago-but it's not as if he knew he was going to spend Christmas at his neighbours place.
It proves to be difficult to find something for either of them, especially because Yixing has to be careful to pick out things that have a reasonable price. Yifan will most likely tell him that he wouldn't have needed to get any present either way, but when being invited over it's only polite to not come empty-handed, and that rule applies even more for Christmas Eve. In the end he settles on a Lego knight set for Sehun because he reasons that he should be playing it safe with Lego knights as a present for a boy of Sehun's age. Yifan turns out to be an even tougher challenge, mainly because Yixing knows the other male and yet discovers he also doesn't know him. They've talked, but essentially all their conversations consisted solely of small talk, and Yixing has troubles recalling anything that could help him with the selection process.
Minutes later he stands in front of the isle with cooking supplies and wonders whether getting the elder a pot and a cooking book could be taken as an insult, rubbing salt into his wound. Deciding that yes, it would be a bit of an offensive present, Yixing decides against buying it at first, but then he stops by the bookshop of the shopping centre, and the temptation flares up again when he sees “Cooking Fun: 121 Simple Recipes to Make with Kids” and “Kids Can Cook: Vegetarian Recipes” standing in the shelves.
On his way back home he's torn between laughing crazily and turning on his heel to return the book and pan and switch them to something like socks, or a scarf, something pretty much nondescript. A safe present. However when he arrives home, he's still carrying his original purchases, and after he's wrapped them up he tells himself what's done is done. Imagining Yifan's expression is actually fun, and Yixing finds himself smiling at the mental image of his neighbour looking baffled.
When he moves to prepare dinner later that evening he catches sight of the note again, but his smile quickly wavers as the reality of the situation sinks in. He's going to celebrate Christmas with Yifan and his son, and suddenly he doubts whether he's even ready for that. Ever since their baking session Yixing has been forced to reflect a little, and he arrived at the conclusion that he might, perhaps, have a teeny tiny crush on that handsome neighbour of his. However there's a child in the picture now, and the fact that Yifan is a father suddenly makes it so much more complicated to imagine to date him, even though Yixing adores Sehun after spending just one afternoon with him (which might be due to the fact that for once he found a child who actually likes him back, unlike all his cousins and children of friends who always started crying when Yixing was with them.)
Yixing is a student who is only here in Montreal to attend university, and he has no idea yet where his life will take him afterwards. He's always planned on having kids, but that doesn't mean he feels ready to take on the responsibility of dating someone who already has one. Yifan doesn't seem to be looking for a parental figure for Sehun-if he's looking for anyone at all, that is-, but if Yixing is going to become a part of Yifan's life, he'll automatically also become part of Sehun's life and that has to be taken serious.
Yixing knows that he's overthinking things. For one, it's not as if Yifan asked him for his hand in marriage or anything. He just took pity on Yixing being alone on Christmas Eve and so, being the nice neighbours that he is, offered the younger to share a bit of the festive feel of being with your family during the holidays. It's an offer made out of compassion, not because Yifan has any other intentions or is interested in Yixing.
And yet this feels like more than just a dinner over at a friends place, and when he's already burrowed in his blankets on his bed, waiting for sleep to claim him, a small voice inside his head prompts Yixing to wonder whether he's only worrying about all these things because of wishful thinking. Perhaps he just wants the slight blush he witnessed on the other's cheeks a few days prior to mean that the elder is interested in him as well. Perhaps he's seeing signs that aren't there to begin with.
( part 2)