(fic) funny people [1/2]

[junjour]

exo | jongdae/yixing | r (for language)
Somewhere across states, Jongdae becomes famous. Somewhere across states, Yixing learns to love. (Warning: Character Death.)
word count: 15k



“Thank you, Phoenix! You’ve been an amazing crowd! Goodnight!”

Jongdae waves as he walks off stage, smiling brightly at the three hundred odd people who jump to their feet and break out in applause, cheers of his name scattering throughout the auditorium. One of the runners hurriedly hands him a towel and a bottle of water, and he gulps it down, nodding at the people who greet him as he makes his way to the dressing room.

Yixing, thankfully, is the only one there, but not for long. Jongdae will get about five minutes before various cameramen and interviewers are allowed backstage, and then Lu Han will usher him to them and he’ll have to spend about an hour answering their questions for their individual websites, most of the time repeating information.

“Hey,” Yixing says, smiling up at him from his clipboard as Jongdae closes the door behind him. He can hear the muffled chatter of people as they bustle up and down the corridor, preparing and debriefing. He collapses onto the comfortable sofa across from his assistant.

“How’s your voice?” Yixing asks. After working together for three years, he doesn’t have to ask about how Jongdae is feeling or how the show has gone. He knows the answers just by looking at Jongdae’s face. Crowd was better during the second half. Could have gone worse. Still too dazed and exhausted for self-critique.

“Better,” Jongdae replies, taking another swig of water. He’d gone through three bottles onstage today. One too little going by the duration of the show, but a necessity. You lose the momentum if you pause for too long, unless that’s some sort of running gag, and Jongdae hates those.

It actually isn’t, Yixing resists the urge to point out. Jongdae’s voice seems hoarser than it was at dinner. He bites his lip and takes his eyes away from the way Jongdae’s chest rises and falls under his shirt as he catches his breath, the adrenaline still rushing through him.

“Fuck, it’s warm,” Jongdae says, and promptly yanks his shirt off, getting up. “Well we are in Phoenix,” Yixing says, and then loses focus trying to write ’10:30’ and ends up writing ‘I k’ for some reason. He rubs it off hastily.

“Think you could ask the crew to make the lights cooler?” Jongdae jokes, fetching a fresh t-shirt from the rack. “I nearly melted.”

“It’s too bad you didn’t,” Yixing says, not looking up from his clipboard.

“Aw, did you miss me that much?” Jongdae replies, completely undeterred.

“You wish,” Yixing wrinkles his nose as he looks up, catching Jongdae’s eye just as the latter pulls on the shirt. The corners of his mouth curl up despite his efforts. Jongdae grins.

“You really should rest your voice.”

Jongdae shrugs and gulps down the rest of the water. “More like warm up for the interviews.”

“They-” Yixing starts to say, but there’s a knock at the door. Jongdae points at it and raises his eyebrows at Yixing.

“Yeah?” Jongdae calls.

“Haven’t got all day, Superstar!” Lu Han’s voice is loud and clear, as if there’s no barrier between them at all. “We have a flight to Anaheim in the morning!” Jongdae looks at Yixing, as if surprised by this information.

“Eleven,” his assistant replies, getting up. “Come on, the sooner we get these interviews done, the better.”

~*~

“And how’s your voice holding up?” The ninth interviewer of the evening asks. Yixing is trying his best not to fall asleep standing up, hugging his clipboard to his chest.

“It’s not that bad, actually,” Jongdae replies. “It’s not the show, you see. It’s the interviews after the show that are killing me.”

The interviewer laughs good-heartedly and Jongdae smiles. Beside Yixing, Lu Han chews on his thumbnail nervously. It’s not unknown that Jongdae’s manager-slash-agent is a complete worrywart, and rightly so, but it’s unusual that he’s anxious during Jongdae’s post-show interviews. Yixing nudges the manager a little, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“What’re you so nervous about?” He asks in a hushed voice. This is Jongdae’s last interview but it’s taking notably longer than the others.

“The man,” Lu Han replies, jittery. Nervous Lu Han reminds Yixing of a startled mouse. The assistant blinks, waiting for elaboration.

“That man,” Lu Han says, not tearing his eyes off Jongdae for one second, “who’s interviewing Jongdae, he’s Kim Joonmyun.”

Yixing tries his best not to sound condescending. “...so?”

“So?!” Lu Han whisper-shrieks, and then quickly looks at the two in front of the camera to see if they’ve taken notice. Jongdae is calmly answering a question and Joonmyun is nodding along, so he sighs in relief before continuing, “Kim Joonmyun works at the Mirage...works for the Mirage.”

Yixing’s eyes widen slightly. “Wait, you mean-”

“Yes, as in the Mirage Las Vegas, which could mean the Aces of Comedy, which could mean the biggest opportunity we’ve ever had.”

“But...you’re his agent,” Yixing says slowly, trying to understand. “So why aren’t you-”

“Nah,” Lu Han replies, shaking his head slightly, “doesn’t work that way. They prefer sending their head critics and scouts out and- oh, he’s done, he’s done!” Luhan quickly leans away from Yixing and flashes a brilliant smile at Joonmyun as the man exits.

“Loved the show,” the critic comments as he makes his way out the door. Lu Han holds his expression long after Joonmyun disappears around the corner, and it starts to look painful. Jongdae and Yixing exchange looks.

“Uh, Lu-”

Lu Han switches from angel-sweet to aggressive Hollywood agent in half a second flat. “Please tell me you made him laugh. A lot. Please, because-” Jongdae scoffs, cutting him off.

“I know, I know,” he says, as if he’s heard it a hundred times before, “Aces of Comedy.”

Lu Han blinks at the passive nature of the comedian’s response, mouth falling open, offended. “This is serious, Jongdae! Do you know how hard it is to get to perform in the Aces? I mean Jay Leno, Seth Meyers, Wayne Brady-”

“Excuse me,” one of the backstage crew members pokes her head in, interrupting them. “We’re closing the venue.”

The agent sighs and looks back at Jongdae, who gestures to the door.

“You wanna go back to the old days of sweeping up trash in the theatre or do you want me to catch that plane to Anaheim?”

Lu Han pinches the bridge of his nose as he leads them out, dismissing them with a ‘get some rest’. Yixing and Jongdae sit together in the car, their sides practically pressed up against each other. Despite the air-conditioning, Jongdae is still ridiculously warm, and Yixing’s cheeks feel like they’re matching up to the new high temperature. The ride to the hotel is quiet with Lu Han in the passenger’s seat, his profile shaped by the bright lights coming from the buildings they pass as they travel into the city.

They’re a couple minutes from the hotel when Yixing nudges Jongdae and passes him his phone when the latter looks over. It’s open to a note.

ur so mean to lu.

Jongdae grins and types his reply underneath before handing the device back to Yixing.

oh yeah? like you weren’t sassing me earlier?

ha ha ha. seriously, though, he seemed pretty antsy abt the whole Aces thing.

he’s always antsy. Jongdae looks up and gives Yixing a look, who shrugs in response. He shakes his head before continuing, why? you don’t trust me?

ur not a vry good talker

on the contrary, I can’t shut up

Yixing rolls his eyes and types, my point exactly. u always end up talking urself into trouble.

and you help get me out of it. don’t we make such a great team? ♥

They pull up to the hotel just as Yixing finishes tracing the outline of the heart with his eyes, and his phone feels a lot heavier in his hands. Jongdae climbs out first, paying no attention, and Yixing has to take a moment and pocket his phone, bite his bottom lip (one of his nervous habits), before his brain is able to send the message to his legs that ‘yeah, not interested in sleeping in cars tonight, even if this one is a pretty sweet Mercedes’.

ARIZONA  ✈ LOS ANGELES

The flight to L.A. is about an hour but Yixing makes a playlist just for it. He’s on the third track when suddenly he registers Jongdae talking to him, catching the word ‘club’ right as he pulls his headphones off and hits pause.

“Huh?”

“I need a good drink,” Jongdae explains, “we’re going a couple hours after check-in.” Lu Han has them booked on Economy for some reason and Yixing’s pretty much stuck less than 5cm away from Jongdae for the entire duration of the flight. He’s not sure if this is good or bad because he can feel Jongdae’s breath on his skin and if it reaches his neck he’ll probably flip out and slap Jongdae’s food tray into his face.

But wait, drinks aren’t good for your voice, especially for people who are sick and are on tour. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Yixing says.

Jongdae shrugs. “I figured you’d say that. So I’m going with Baekhyun and the guys.”

Yixing bites his lip at the mention of their entourage. They’re good guys, but they party a little too hard for his liking, and he needs someone to make sure that Jongdae won’t get severely hungover tomorrow because they have two shows in this city, by popular demand. “Lu Han let you...?”

“No,” Jongdae grins. “But he will.”

“And why’s that?”

“Strip club,” Jongdae says, and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Yixing’s stomach makes a weird drop. He hopes it’s just the turbulence. He splutters a little and elbows Jongdae, who’s grin only stretches wider on his face.

“Awwwww, are you blushing?”

“I didn’t know you were..into strip clubs,” Yixing says, biting out the last few words because they feel funny on his tongue. He really should have expected it, honestly. Jongdae’s a grown man who’s spent most of his career in clubs and bases most of his jokes on ‘sexcapades’ (whether or not they’re firsthand, he’ll never say).

“Who isn’t,” Jongdae replies, and there’s a weird glint in his eyes that makes Yixing feel like shoving the emergency paper bag over his head.

“Wow you’re...something,” Yixing replies lamely, and Jongdae laughs. Another drop. Winds must be picking up.

“You should come. It’s been a while since you’ve had a break.”

“Strip clubs aren’t really my thing.”

“Oh yeah? The club we met in was a strip club.”

The mention of their first encounter makes Yixing nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t expect Jongdae to be the sentimental type. Either way, he pushes the feeling aside and remarks, “it wasn’t a strip club. It just had a stripper pole.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Oh, sure. How convenient.”

“There wasn’t even anyone working then!”

“Oh, so you were watching?”

“God, you’re the absolute worst.”

“Well, you’re either in or out,” Jongdae purrs, emphasizing on the innuendo. Yixing feels himself turn a shade of crimson before he buries his face into his hands.

~*~

Lu Han’s still gripping onto his emergency paper bag tightly when they finally land, his face paler than usual.

“I hate turbulence.”

Yixing gives him a comforting pat on the back, but it only makes Lu Han scramble and fumble to get the bag open. He turns around and retches. The assistant winces.

“Trust me to get the sissiest agent on the planet,” Jongdae comments as Lu Han stands up, wiping his mouth.

“Next time, I’m putting you with the luggage.”

“You’ll get charged for trafficking,” Jongdae quips back, and Lu Han says something in Chinese that’s too crude for Yixing to register. One of their entourage, Wu Fan, snorts in response.

LAX is never pleasant, no matter how many times Yixing tells himself ‘it’ll be better next year’. The airport is always crowded and the checks take forever, particularly when Zitao has way too much metal on him. Take off your jacket, take off your sneakers, take off your belt, bracelets, studs. Zitao’s thinning patience shows itself in the even thinner smile he sends security once they’re finally on their way.

“Told you not to get that navel piercing,” he hears Jongdae say as they make their way to the van. Yixing notices a group of people gathered near the exit, holding up signs with Jongdae’s name. The entourage isn’t that difficult to spot, and immediately there are shouts of ‘KIM JONGDAE!’. Thankfully, they don’t swarm towards them, but it draws enough attention for people to start whipping out their cameras and snapping pictures. Jongdae, in turn, blinks when he first catches sight of the group of fans, but then lets out a light-hearted chuckle and waves.

“Wow..” he hears Zitao say in awe as they climb into the van. “You’re famous, Jongdae.”

Jongdae grins and winks while Lu Han snorts. “Welcome to L.A.”

~*~

Yixing is twenty-one when he tags along with Jongdae on his first official tour. He goes because Jongdae asks him to, as a friend, and because it’s a pretty good job offer. His parents are skeptical at first, but Yixing tells them it’s only a temporary thing, just until he figures out what he wants to do, so they let him go. There were only eleven stops then, but Yixing had still struggled with schedules and coordinating events. More often than not, Lu Han had had to step in, and Yixing would watch rather guiltily as his terrible write ups were deleted and done up once more from scratch. Jongdae handled the whole thing relatively well, being new and all, but Yixing remembers catching him alone backstage some nights, head lowered, lost in his thoughts.

By the second tour, though, the road seems a little less bumpy. It’s around this time when they rope in Baekhyun and Zitao, the latter of which Yixing had met once as a bouncer when Jongdae was still doing open-mic nights at clubs. They slap on two extra cities and manage to sell out half the venues, but Lu Han still has to re-organize four of Yixing’s schedules because of mixups on Yixing’s part. Jongdae starts having proper Meet-and-Greet sessions.

Third tour gets a little tricky, because Jongdae is starting to get some major media recognition after a video of one of his jokes goes viral. It’s something about the embarrassments of puberty that viewers latch onto and scream ‘COMPLETELY RELATABLE’ (occasionally misspelled as ‘h-e-’s n-o-t f-u-n-n-y’, as Jongdae would say). This is the tour Lu Han spends meeting a couple executive producers while fending off agents who try to seduce Jongdae into hiring them (some more literally than others). Yixing perfects his schedules and even colour codes them for easy reading. Jongdae’s sore throats start, but the fans start cheering his name.

Fourth hits Europe, and the fifth hits Asia. It’s two tours back-to-back in a year, and they spend Christmas in Japan, having tonkatsu instead of turkey. Chanyeol and Wufan join them somewhere in between, completing the entourage, and Jongdae gets an official website and his fanbase grows and grows and grows.

Yixing is twenty-four and they’re on their sixth tour in America, something Jongdae’s always talked about. He’s here because he’s Jongdae’s assistant, because they’ve been working together for three years, and because he kind of likes his job. But his parents are starting to call more frequently, and he’s starting to find Jongdae alone in the dressing room one too many times, sitting quietly by himself.

It’s the sixth tour and the third year, and Yixing is starting to wonder.

~*~

“No no no, no soju bombs,” Yixing says as he pulls the cup away from Jongdae, who groans.

“Oh come on, Xing,” Jongdae whines. Yixing feels something stir at the pit of his stomach-nope, wait, it’s just the vibrations from the beats blasting through the club’s speakers.

“These things are murder, and we have a show tomorrow.” Beside them, Chanyeol’s cheeks are already rosy red, and while he isn’t gigglingly drunk yet, Baekhyun’s almost there. Yixing just knew this was a bad idea. At least they’d skipped out on the whole strip club idea, probably the night’s only saving grace.

“Fine,” Jongdae says, and then a terrible smile creeps onto his face. Yixing’s seen that face one too many times. He resists gulping.

“Then you drink it.” He sets the glass down firmly in front of Yixing.

The man sighs, not wanting any of it. “Jesus, Jongdae, I-”

“Either you drink it, or I will,” Jongdae warns and makes a move for the glass.

“Okay, okay!” Yixing scrambles and downs the whole thing in one shot, because Jongdae will definitely drink it if he gets his hands on the drink again. It fizzles down his throat and he winces. It’s not that he can’t handle his liquor, he just doesn’t like it. When he turns to Jongdae, his companion has a cocky smirk on his face.

“What?” Yixing tries and fails at sounding irritated. Jongdae tends to throw him off like that.

“Nothing,” he replies, and reaches for another. Yixing scowls and grabs his wrist, yanking his hand back. Maybe the soju bomb had been a lot stronger than he’d anticipated, because his skin feels really warm and the contact with Jongdae’s fingers sends sparks through him. He tries to take his hands away as calmly as possible.

“Stop. I can’t get drunk.”

“Is that a challenge?” Jongdae asks cheekily, slinging an arm around Yixing. His fingers rest tentatively over Yixing’s heart. Maybe if he presses down firmly enough he’ll be able to feel it beat against his fingertips, feel the way it quickens.

Yixing rolls his eyes and pushes Jongdae off, ignoring the thought that he should have pulled him closer instead, invited him in. “You know what I mean.”

“But I can’t get drunk either? That’s no fun.” And shit, Jongdae is pouting at him, heaven preserve Yixing.

“I can’t carry these two back by myself,” Yixing points out, gesturing to Baekhyun and Chanyeol who are about as red as tomatoes.

“They can handle themselves. Look at them. Chanyeol would be able to carry Baekhyun home even if he was blindfolded and had to walk across coal.”

Yixing can’t think of an argument, so all he does is sigh and look back at Jongdae, who winks at him in response. He really wants to ask for once and for all if Jongdae is flirting with him, but instead, he shies away and tells the bartender, “one more, please.”

Jongdae’s grin is ridiculously bright.

~*~

This isn’t the first time Jongdae is drunk around Yixing. It’s a thing that comes with performing in clubs; you get weird alcoholic concoctions served to you on the house and you take it because, heck, why not. You need to keep good relations with the bartenders, just in case. They could slip something into your drink if you ever come back, and passing out during your set isn’t exactly optimum when it comes to climbing the Stand-Up ladder.

It’s a little past 12:30AM by the time Yixing’s had his fifth drink, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol are this close to being completely shit-faced, so he decides to call it a night before his head starts pounding because soju bombs sneak up on you like that. One shots, two shots, three shots; taste alcohol, but hey, why is the room spinning?

“Come on,” he motions, getting off his chair. Jongdae’s only had three drinks but his face is completely flushed, and he looks so unstable when he gets to his feet that Yixing sighs and moves to support him. Chanyeol’s managing O.K. with Baekhyun, but he’s too stubborn to let anyone help him anyway. Yixing thanks his lucky stars when he finds enough cash in his wallet for a cab and hails one.

Jongdae is clingy when he’s sober, and it gets even worse when he’s drunk. Baekhyun and Chanyeol are busy giggling between themselves as they pass by a fire hydrant for some reason, so Yixing is left to fend for himself as Jongdae drapes himself on him, practically burying his face in the nape of Yixing’s neck. He’s close enough for Yixing to smell the faint whiff of his shampoo and cologne, enough to make himself feel giddy with blood rush. If Yixing’s addicted to Jongdae TV, he probably can’t last one day without Jongdae himself, as much as he would like to tell himself he can.

“You’re nice to hug,” Jongdae mumbles into the base of his neck, and it sends shivers down Yixing’s spine. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and tries to adjust himself, but Jongdae’s too heavy and is unabashedly putting all his weight on Yixing’s left arm, so any attempts are thwarted. He’s stuck.

“Get off me,” he says, but it lacks the edge he so wishes it could have. His arm really is going to go numb soon. Yixing watches as Jongdae closes his eyes and smiles like a sleepy cat, nuzzling himself closer. He even reaches over and wraps both his arm around Yixing, making him his human bolster, and Yixing squeaks a little at the sudden restrictions.

“I absolutely hate you,” Yixing mutters when they’re nearing the hotel.

“I know,” Jongdae says, and then blows at a particularly sensitive spot on Yixing’s neck. Yixing lets out another startled noise and swats his hand on reflex, promptly smacking Jongdae’s cheek with the back of his hand. He gasps when Jongdae flinches and groans, reaching up to hold his face.

“Dude,” Jongdae says, mouth pulling down into a frown.

“I’m so sorry!” Yixing exclaims, taking Jongdae’s hand and leaning in close to check if his cheek is red. Everything seems fine, so he sighs a little in relief, quickly letting go of Jongdae’s hand when he realizes he’s still holding on. When he leans back, though, Jongdae is grinning from ear to ear.

“...What?” he asks after a beat, uncomfortable at the look Jongdae is giving him.

“So you do care about me,” Jongdae quips, just as they stop in front of the hotel. Yixing turns pink and bristles, hastily paying the cab driver before opening the door and yanking Jongdae out with him. Baekhyun and Chanyeol lumber behind, whacking their limbs at each other over god-knows-what.

Jongdae’s room is on the 29th floor, three doors down from Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s. Yixing ensures they make their way into the room and onto their beds without breaking anything before proceeding to help Jongdae to his respective room. Maybe it’s the alcohol cycle but Jongdae’s suddenly a lot heavier than he was on the walk out of the bar, eyes hooded as if he’s about to fall asleep as any moment.

“Where’s your card?” He asks when they reach the door, before warily eyeing Jongdae’s pockets. Half-drunk or not, Yixing’s instincts are never off.

“Left pocket,” Jongdae mumbles sleepily into Yixing’s neck. The latter shivers openly now and bites his lip as he carefully slides his hand into Jongdae’s pocket to fish out the room key. Jongdae’s wearing yet another pair of skinny jeans, and Yixing has to wiggle his fingers a little before finally clamping the card between his index and middle finger. The movement causes Jongdae to whimper and Yixing’s breath catches just as he swipes the card.

“Sorry,” he mutters, but it’s so soft that he wonders if Jongdae heard him, or if he’s formed the words right, or if he meant it. He guides Jongdae to the bed, the red neon numbers on the bedside table showing 1:01AM.

Almost as quickly as his head hits the pillow, Jongdae is fast asleep. Yixing is careful as he  slides Jongdae’s arm off his shoulders, observing the way the soft yellow light highlights the blemishes of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the sharp slope of his jawline. Jongdae’s breathing is hardly audible; the only indicator of his breathing being the rise and fall of his chest.

Yixing would be lying if he said he doesn’t want to kiss Jongdae right now. They’ve known each other for three years now, and he would be lying if he said there wasn’t something there. But Yixing never knows how to read the signs, never knows how ‘they’ are instead of himself. There are too many complications in a kiss, and Yixing’s too tired to assess all of them right now.

“Good night,” he mumbles, before turning around and walking out of the room.

~*~

“Aspirin?” He offers at breakfast, holding out two pills for Jongdae, who grunts in thanks.

“My head hurts,” he complains. His voice sounds painfully hoarse.

“Because you’re hungover,” Yixing says, placing a bottle of water in front of him.

“Oh wow, really?” Jongdae mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm as he breaks the seal. Yixing’s only grins and starts on his scrambled eggs, completely accustomed to Jongdae’s cranky morning behaviour.

Lu Han comes to their table looking completely frazzled. His hair is a mess and the circles under his eyes seem just as dark as Zitao’s, if Yixing can remember the entourage’s face correctly. He’s holding a thick stack of papers which he drops unceremoniously on the table with a thud before sitting down.

Yixing studies him before holding out another two pills for the agent. “Aspirin?”

“I slept for two hours,” Lu Han says monotonously, eyes wide and almost blank as he accepts the pills. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a car.”

“Shhhh!” Jongdae suddenly hisses from where he’s pillowed his head in his arms on the table. “Too many noises.”

“Why were you up so late?” Yixing asks.

“Schedule things. I was trying to get Jongdae some interviews from networks.”

“And did you?”

“Well...I got...one,” Lu Han says, mouth slanting like he’s sheepish. He pauses before continuing, “from Fox.”

“Nope,” Jongdae grunts out, standing up.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Lu Han nearly snaps.

“I mean it’s too early for this. I’m going back to bed,” he informs them, shoving his hands into his pockets before stalking off.

“Ride leaves in forty-five minutes!” Lu Han protests after him.

Jongdae waves a hand over his head before disappearing around the corner. Yixing watches as the agent sighs and massages his temples.

“Where are Chanyeol and Baekhyun?” Lu Han frowns as he looks around the dining room.

“Uh...Chanyeol’s sick, so Baekhyun’s taking care of him.” It isn’t a total lie. Chanyeol really is running a fever upstairs in his room, and Baekhyun really is fussing over him, the last Yixing saw them when he’d gone to wake them up.

“How’d he get sick? He was fine yesterday,” Lu Han frowns.

“Beats me,” Yixing says.

“I think I’m getting a headache,” Lu Han groans, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he stands up. “I’m going to take a power nap before my head explodes,” he mutters, but Yixing notices as Lu Han’s eyes dart to the stack of papers he’d brought in with him.

“I’ll take care of it,” Yixing assures, and Lu Han nods in gratitude.

“They’re already labelled so just sort through and uh...” Lu Han stops, pain evident on his face.

“I’ve got it, Lu,” Yixing says as he reaches for the stack. “Go ahead and rest.”

“Don’t call me that,” the agent grumbles, but trudges back to his room anyway.

There isn’t really much for Yixing to do, especially since Lu Han seems to have completed most of the paperwork. He sorts quickly, yellow with yellow, blue with blue, checking and re-checking. A mere fifteen minutes have passed by the time he’s a few documents away from the bottom, when he notices the corner of what appears to be a black folder peeking out from the bottom of the pile. He doesn’t remember coming across it, so he slides it out, curious.

The folder is light, and when Yixing flips it open, the first few pockets are empty. He blinks in confusion, wondering if Lu Han just bought it in case and carried it down by mistake. Yixing’s just about to put the folder back when he flips to one more page and finds a document in the pocket, dated a few years old.

CHA GENERAL HOSPITAL
MEDICAL REPORT

Kim Jongdae, age 20, Korean was admitted on 07.08.2011 to Cha General Hospital. About 4-5 months ago he developed weight loss, laryngitis and a pneumococcal infection. He was brought to our hospital for general medical care. He had no appetite and was very weak. He was initially put on IV hydration and...

“Yo! Yixing!”

At the call of his name, Yixing hurriedly closes the file and stacks it. When he looks up he sees Zitao walking towards him, pop tart in hand.

“Wheels up in five minutes,” Zitao says, switching to Chinese before taking a bite out of his pop tart. Yixing nods stiffly, mind still racing. He doesn’t remember Jongdae ever telling him about going to hospital, and they’d been on tour in 2011. No, wait, maybe it hadn’t been as bad as the report made it seem. Jongdae would have told him if it had been bad.

“Are you okay..?” Zitao asks, and Yixing snaps out of it. “You look kinda sick.”

“What? Oh no, no I’m just fine. I’ll be there, thanks Zitao,” he says, making sure to smile. Zitao shrugs and cocks his head towards the door as he turns before exiting the restaurant. Yixing heaves a sigh of relief and gathers his things, making sure to put the file back at the bottom of the stack.

Everyone’s already seated by the time he makes it to the limousine, the stack of papers feeling heavier on his lap when he sees Jongdae seated by himself, earbuds in place as he looks out the window. It’s obvious he shouldn’t ask. Heck, Lu Han probably didn’t intend for him to find out in the first place. It’s probably just an old medical thing. History. Yixing looks down at the documents in his lap as the limousine purrs to life. The folder looks like any other file of bills or list of errands to be run, of hotels to be booked.

Jongdae would tell him, he tells himself, Jongdae would tell him.

~*~

The venue Jongdae is performing in is cozy, just enough for a hundred or so. Yixing watches as Jongdae paces around the dressing room, mumbling at the paper in his hands. A new joke, judging by the way Jongdae’s face falls in frustration every now and then.

9:30pm, Yixing pencils into the schedule on his clipboard. Jongdae drums his fingers on the back of his chair as he scans his script. Tonight’s set is only for forty-five minutes, but every show still seems like a harrowing prospect to Yixing. Thirty minutes, an hour, two hours; time and silence to fill.

When he was in high school, one of Yixing’s assignments involved a five-minute presentation in front of his entire class. He’d spoke slower and louder and clearer, and gave detailed accounts of his case studies as best as he could.

He clocked 3 minutes 42 seconds.

“How do you do it..” Yixing mumbles, and then freezes when he realizes he’s thought aloud. Jongdae looks up at him, eyebrow raised.

“Hm?”

“Nothing, sorry, just thinking out loud.”

Jongdae chuckles, eyes twinkling with something akin to curiosity. He wants Yixing to continue. “Um..” Yixing says, trying to find the words, “I mean, how do you do it? How do you talk for so long?”

Jongdae pauses for a moment before laughing, the sound bright and pleasant. Yixing hasn’t heard him laugh like that in a while. “You ask me this now? After three years?”

Yixing fiddles with his pencil, twirling it around his fingers. “Well, I mean...I..just..answer the question.”

Jongdae’s grin grows dreamy as he leans back on the chair opposite, lacing his fingers together and placing his hands on his stomach. He hums softly before finally speaking. “I don’t know, the words just find their way. It’s like...my brain is always so crowded, you know? Talking is my way of letting go. I could write a twenty-minute set like this,” he demonstrates, holding up the sheet of paper in his hands. Yixing realizes there’s hardly any writing on it. “And it mutates into a two-hour string of words. The thoughts always find their way in.”

“Sounds like a riot in your head,” Yixing says.

“Yeah,” Jongdae smiles, “but there’s always something to say.”

Yixing wonders what that would be like, to have something to say every time. Jongdae’s always been that kind of guy. Since they’ve met, he’s never missed a beat. He fills the silences between them that Yixing creates, because Yixing thinks too much about what he wants to say. If Yixing had a little bit of Jongdae’s bravery (or carelessness, it’s sometimes hard to distinguish), their conversations would go something like: Hey Jongdae, you looked really good onstage today. Hey Jongdae, could I lean on your shoulder? Hey Jongdae, sometimes I think I-

There’s a brief knock on the door before a runner pushes it open, poking her head in. “Mr Kim? House is opening.”

“Thank you, I’ll be out soon,” Jongdae replies, flashing her a charming smile. Yixing watches as the poor girl blushes and ducks back out, closing the door behind her.

“You’re terrible,” he informs Jongdae as the comedian stands up.

“You love me, hyung,” Jongdae winks, grabbing a bottle of water before leaving the room. Yixing clutches his pencil a little tighter just before the door shuts.

“Terrible,” he mumbles, and then tries to remember what he was trying to write down. He fails.

~*~

Jongdae’s voice tends to get worse towards the end of his sets. Yixing always hears it in the strain of his ‘h’s and vowels and the way his soft chuckles become more husky. But tonight, something feels off. Through the speakers Yixing can tell that Jongdae is struggling, pausing a little more during his sentences than usual. It becomes even more evident when Jongdae coughs in the middle of one of his most famous jokes, and Yixing bites his lip as he checks the clock. Twenty more minutes.

He makes his way out to the wings and finds Lu Han there, a grim look etched on his face. Carefully angling himself such that he can see Jongdae on stage, Yixing sees that Jongdae’s slim fingers are wrapped around a bottle, but he isn’t drinking.

“He’s pushing his voice,” Lu Han mumbles, and then runs a hand over his face. With the job that he has, Jongdae gets a sore throat about once a month, or every two months if they’re lucky. It’s only when Jongdae coughs a couple times after a punchline that he finally takes a swig of water, the rough, jagged noise hurting Yixing more than it should.

“I’ll talk to him,” he tells Lu Han, checking his watch. Just three minutes left. Jongdae’s just about wrapping up.

“You’ve said that a lot,” the agent sighs, and then gives Yixing a sympathetic look. For a moment, Yixing remembers the hospital report he found in the morning, and he opens his mouth to ask but quickly changes it to “I know”.

Lu Han shakes his head, smiling sadly as he slides his hands into his pockets. They watch as Jongdae takes a bow and the crowd claps and cheers loudly, a couple people in the front rows rising to their feet as they applaud.

“Try to convince him,” Lu Han says quietly as Jongdae makes his way towards them. Yixing nods, watching as the runners hand Jongdae a fresh towel and he sits down on one of the foldable chairs, catching his breath. Yixing notices him grimace as he swallows before unscrewing the cap off his bottle and taking much needed gulps.

Post-show Jongdae always looks exhausted, hollow even. When they’d completed their first European tour, Yixing remembers watching Jongdae crumpling into the cheap sofa backstage at a comedy club somewhere in Amsterdam, perspiration glistening on his forehead as he shielded his eyes from the light with his arm. In the silence of the dressing room, Yixing had listened to Jongdae’s quiet breathing, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the muffled voices of the venue staff as they wandered back and forth along the hallways. In those moments, Jongdae looked as vulnerable as Yixing could have ever imagined; just a boy far away from home, chasing a dream with the few people who dared to tag along.

Yixing sticks close by Jongdae’s side, watching as he rests his forearms on his knees and lowers his head, a stillness in the chaos as the stagehands run back and forth clearing up the space. The only difference between now and Amsterdam is that Jongdae looks like he won’t be able to stand on his own anymore, the way he seems to curl in on himself. “Good show,” he finds himself saying, and he hears Jongdae’s soft chuckle, like he doesn’t believe it.

“It wasn’t bad,” Jongdae shrugs, looking up at Yixing. His voice is a little better after the water. Just a little. Jongdae leans back in the chair, slumping against the backrest, exhaling loudly.

“Hey,” Yixing nudges Jongdae’s arm a little, “you’re better than you think.”

Jongdae’s laugh is a little lighter this time. “Woah, are you being nice to me?” He raises his hands up in mock defense. “Okay, who are you and why have you abducted my assistant?”

Yixing shoves his shoulder weakly. “Hey, I give compliments too.”

“Ah, nope, you’re definitely Xing. Of course. Why would anyone abduct you? I’m much better looking.”

“I’m going to kick you off that chair.”

“I’ll fire you.”

Yixing doesn’t say anything as he leans back, aiming his sneaker at the legs of Jongdae’s chair. He looks back at Jongdae’s face and feels his breath catch, the way Jongdae’s lips are curled into the slightest of smirks and his eyes are glinting like he’s waiting, challenging.

Yixing tries to kick and ends up missing. Jongdae grins.

“You’re lucky I decided that chair didn’t deserve it,” Yixing replies, hugging his clipboard closer to his chest.

“How sweet of you. Now, when I get off this chair, try not to kick me, alright?” He says, smile becoming sickeningly sweet.

Yixing wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole at that look. He turns Jongdae around and pushes him towards his dressing room, feeling his cheeks burn the whole time.

LOS ANGELES ✈ SAN FRANCISCO

“Karma,” Jongdae says as Yixing wipes his mouth, “total karma.”

Yixing responds with a long, frustrated groan as he puts his head on his knees.

It’s a grueling five plus hour drive to their next stop, and it is during this time that Yixing’s body has decided to wreck itself with motion sickness. This is the fifth time they’ve stopped on the drive for Yixing to throw up. Well, not like Lu Han was taking any chances after Yixing emptied his stomach all over his seats the first time.

“Siri, please add ‘car freshener’ and ‘cleaning supplies’ to my shopping list,” the agent mumbles miserably to his phone.

“Okay, here are some vegan restaurants near you." Lu Han makes an odd whimpering noise at the back of his throat.

Jongdae hands Yixing another bottle of water. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, at least you didn’t throw up all over that nice Cadillac a couple minutes ago.”

“I should have,” Yixing mumbles miserably, “he cut us off.”

Jongdae grins and nudges his shoulder. “Don’t worry, if I see any more pricey vehicles I’ll be sure to point them out to you.”

“Why am I your assistant,” Yixing sighs, yanking out a particularly tall weed from the grass he’s crouched in.

“Because I’m amazing and you’re the only person with marginally legible handwriting that I’ve ever kind of liked,” Jongdae says, patting his shoulder. Yixing feels his stomach flop again. Maybe he should try to get fired soon, y’know, for the sake of his well-being.

He hears the grass beside him crinkle as Jongdae stands up. “Ready to go?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yixing nods, focusing on the solid ground beneath his feet as he makes his way back to the car. A throbbing pain dances along the edges of his brain and he shuts his eyes once he’s seated, massaging his temples. “I swear my body thinks I’m on a ship. And I don’t even get seasick.”

“Water,” Jongdae prompts again as the car starts moving.

“Is that how annoying I sound, telling you that all the time?” Yixing asks, leaning his head back against the headrest.

“It’s about there,” comes the reply, and Yixing feels a warmth against his side as Jongdae leans a little into him. The roll of thunder overhead accompanies them for the rest of the journey, along with Baekhyun’s gentle hum of some top forty song Yixing can’t recognize. From time to time, Yixing feels warm fingers brush against his hand on his lap, and he tries not to let his heart skip.

“Do you remember when we first came to San Francisco?” Jongdae asks him quietly.

Yixing tries, and can’t recall any memory whatsoever. “No,” he confesses.

“Okay,” Jongdae pauses, and then Yixing can hear the grin in his words, “because I can’t remember either.”

Yixing tries to give him a look of disdain but he fails and ends up laughing. “When this tour ends, I’m quitting,” he says jokingly, missing the way Lu Han glances at them from the rearview mirror.

“Oh, yeah? And what’ll you do for a job then?” Jongdae challenges.

“He could write a book,” Lu Han cuts in. “‘Reasons why Kim Jongdae is an asshole’.” Yixing resists the urge to snort.

“Ouch, harsh,” Jongdae pouts, “but you know, it’ll only sell because my name’s in the title.”

“Reason number one: because he is an asshole,” Lu Han explains as they pull into San Francisco. “Reason number two:..”

~*~

The venue Jongdae’s booked in is a black box theatre type, and they’re set for two nights. Soundcheck runs reasonably smoothly, with a couple lighting issues, but it’s only until the evening that things get really interesting. Like, whole-bunch-of-fans-gathered-outside-venue-for-autographs interesting.

“Oh,” Yixing says as he peeks through the blinds, because, really, ‘oh’ is all there is to say.

“Is that an ‘oh’ like an ‘oh no’ or an ‘oh’ like ‘oh yes’?” Jongdae replies, walking towards the window.

“More like ‘oh’ as in they have barricades up to hold the crowd back.”

“What?” Jongdae peeks through the shutters to see for himself. There’s a crowd of at least sixty people gathered, some even holding up signs proclaiming their love for Jongdae, cameras flashing. Downstairs, Yixing spots Lu Han talking to security and trying to negotiate, but the crowd doesn’t seem like it’ll disperse any time soon.

“They’re causing a roadblock,” Yixing observes before checking his watch. They have about fifteen minutes before the van arrives to take them back to their hotel where they’re scheduled to meet with some VIPs for some upcoming charity event.

“I’m going down there,” Jongdae says, grabbing his jacket. Yixing steps away from the window and turns to him, eyes wide.

“But Lu Han said-”

“No leaving the venue, I know. But come on, Xing! Look at those people!” Jongdae gestures towards the window, already making his way towards the door. Yixing hurriedly follows him out.

“Jongdae, there’s already a signing tomorrow! Just-”

“Signings are for people who bought tickets. Look, Xing, those people want to see me.”

“Oh, and what, you’re going to give them all autographs?” Yixing frowns, trying not to trip over his laces as he nearly runs down the flight of stairs to catch up with him. Jongdae isn’t even supposed to be talking right now, but Yixing’s already gotten tired of reminding him every single second.

“Yixing,” Jongdae says, stopping a few feet from the door before turning to him, “do you remember what I told you when you asked me why I do Stand-Up?”

Yixing sighs in frustration. “Don’t do this to me now. I-”

“Do you remember what I said?” Jongdae repeats, making Yixing look at him. They’re close enough to hear the fans on the other side of the door, like some sort of ominous indication of a war zone beyond.

“Of course I do,” Yixing mutters, and then takes a cue by the way Jongdae is looking at him. “You said...you said it’s because you want to make people happy. Because you let people...forget. Even if it’s just for a while.”

“And do you remember what I said when I asked you to come on tour with me?”

“You said...” Yixing’s voice falters as he realizes that he’s losing the argument. “You said that it was because I seemed to be the only one who understood that.”

“So-”

“But Jongdae,” Yixing tries to argue, “you can’t make everyone happy.”

“Yeah, but,” Jongdae says, pointing at the door, “I’m going to try. Are you with me or not?”

Yixing bites his lip as he thinks, fingers tightening around the edges of his clipboard. They’re going to get into huge amounts of trouble for this. They’ve pushed boundaries before, but this is borderline ridiculous. But Jongdae’s still looking at him, still waiting for an answer, still asking for him to be there for him, too.

“Jesus,” Yixing mumbles, finally dropping his resolve as they make their way towards the door, “we’re going to get into so much trouble.”

“KIM JONGDAEEE! I LOVE YOUUUU!”

The crowd gathered outside the building erupts in screams as Jongdae greets them cheerily. Lu Han spins around, eyes wide. He looks at Yixing pointedly, almost accusingly, but Yixing can only do a little sheepish shrug in response. Jongdae’s already signing out flyers and tickets and notebooks that the people hold out to him, hardly affected by the cameras being shoved in his face.

“Hi, hi, nice to meet you, yes,” he calls, shaking the hands of some who hold their hands out.

“Are you really him?” One particularly dazed fan yells from the back.

“No!” Jongdae calls back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course not, I’m his evil twin brother Kim Jayday. He’s Kim Jongdae!” Jongdae announces, pointing to one heavily mustached security guard standing by. Yixing has to hide his smile behind his clipboard.

“What time is it?” Lu Han asks, coming to stand beside Yixing. His mouth is pressed into a thin line.

“Uh,” Yixing checks his watch, “10:31- oh.” The VIP event. He should have remembered.

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Lu Han mutters, taking Yixing’s clipboard from him.

“What are you doing?” Yixing asks, voice rising an octave in alarm when he sees Lu Han strike out a section of tomorrow’s activities.

“Making up for lost time,” Lu Han says, handing the schedule back to Yixing. The assistant bites his lip as he reads the new changes.

“Lu-”

“He won’t be happy, I know, but we have no choice. The least we can do is make some form of public appearance and talk about it to make sure they don’t come snapping at our necks,” Lu Han shakes his head. Yixing keeps silent.

The whole event takes an hour, with more fans joining after the information hits social networks that Kim Jongdae is signing things right outside the theater. Even when Jongdae’s being ushered to the van by Wufan and Zitao, fans are still yelling his name and holding out pens. Yixing takes the seat beside Lu Han as Jongdae waves and says his final goodbyes before climbing in, smiling like an idiot.

There’s an uncomfortable silence in the car, only broken a good couple minutes later when Lu Han speaks up. “Yixing,” he says, voice hostile, “what’s the schedule for tomorrow?”

“Um.” Yixing rummages for the right schedule before reading, “breakfast at 9, and then we have interviews until lunch, and after that we head to the venue for-”

“Woah, wait, interviews?” Jongdae interrupts, voice sounding a little rough just as he takes a gulp of water. Yixing bites his lip.

“What interviews, Xing?”

“Interviews with networks,” Lu Han says.

“But there’s a signing-”

“It’s cancelled,” Lu Han replies coolly. The silence that follows settles on thick tension. Yixing feels helpless in his seat as he stares at the cruel crosses and slightly smudged ink on his schedule, like his work has betrayed him.

“We can’t...cancel the signing,” Jongdae says, wary. He’s beginning to understand the situation.

“You just lost us the charity event, Jongdae. Do you know how upset the public are going to be once word gets out?”

“So we reschedule and send out an apology! Say we’ll do it the day after or something-”

“Jongdae, you’ve been delaying these interviews for months. I don’t have a choice.”

Yixing can almost hear Jongdae searching for the right words in his head. “Lu Han,” Jongdae says carefully, “I know you hate these fan events, but I’m entitled to a bit of happiness-”

“At whose expense, Jongdae?” Lu Han shoots back, tone biting. "That ‘surprise’ thing you just did has pushed us way off schedule.”

“You can’t just add shit into my schedule without my consent!” Jongdae spits out, startling everyone in the car except Lu Han.

“You don’t even care about your schedules,” Lu Han snaps, “Yixing’s been writing them up for the last three years.”

“Because I trust Yixing, and he knows what I want.”

“Maybe that’s a problem then,” Lu Han says coldly, “because you only know what you want to do.”

Jongdae grows quiet as they pull up to the hotel. Yixing feels like he’s suffocating.

“We all have to make sacrifices,” Lu Han says, voice soft but loud enough for everyone in the car to hear, “and maybe you need to start seeing that we seem to do it for you a lot more than you’ve ever done for any of us.”

He’s hardly done with his sentence when the door opens and Yixing sees Jongdae already walking out, making his way up the entrance steps before the glass doors slide open, not looking back once. The others in the car remain silent, and Yixing looks back at his limp hands in his lap, wondering if he’s just had some sort of momentary nightmare and is only now waking up.

Lu Han sighs and presses his palms against the steering wheel. He glances at the others through the rearview mirror and, as if it’s some sort of cue, the entourage start to climb out, taking their things with them. Yixing picks up his clipboard and is about to open his door when Lu Han stops him.

“When you said you were quitting at the end of this tour...you were kidding, I hope?”

Yixing nods fervently. “Yeah, I’d never leave these guys.”

Lu Han smiles a little sadly. “Well, know that I’m not kidding when I say that I am.”

“W..what?” Yixing feels his insides twist. He stares at Lu Han through the rearview mirror. “You’re...”

“Quitting, yeah,” Lu Han nods but doesn’t look at Yixing, like he’s trying to reassure himself that what he’s doing is OK. “I’ve thought about it for a while and-”

“Lu Han, I’m sorry about what happened at the theater just now,” Yixing blurts out. “It was my fault. I should have stopped him. I was there and I could have-”

“It’s not about that,” Lu Han shakes his head, soft smile still on his lips. “I’m just...tired, Xing. I feel like I’ve been touring with people for so long that it makes me feel like I don’t know where home is anymore.”

Yixing finds himself staring at the callouses of Lu Han’s hands. He’s never really thought about how long it’s been since Lu Han’s stopped touring, stopped being around colleagues and started being around friends, around people he grew up with, people he loved. Like Jongdae, who, although having been with Yixing from the start, is the only one who performs in the cities, goes out to meet people every day, goes out to be the Kim Jongdae they know and love, however different he might be from Kim Jongdae, Yixing’s co-worker but first of all, Yixing’s friend.

“Oh,” Yixing says, because he can’t say anything else.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I felt like telling you,” Lu Han chuckles softly, but there’s no humor.  Yixing nods, listening to distant thunder as the rain clouds roll in.

“Don’t you ever feel like taking a break?” The agent asks.

“Well...I get the weekends off sometimes, so-”

“No no,” Lu Han laughs gently, “I mean, y’know, stopping.”

“Stop..ping?”

“Yeah,” Lu Han shrugs. “To go home, be with your family. Do what you want.”

“I...” Yixing pauses and remembers his phone that likes to ring and remind him that he has a life to go back to. A ‘proper job’ that’s in order. Yixing doesn’t know what it’s like to live with a burning passion, to feel adrenaline and chase a dream. Going home would be nice, sure, but there’s nothing really for him at home. Going home would mean tearing his hair out over stock, or spending hours staring at a monitor of numbers,  trying to seek refuge in caffeine or in the occasional crappy nightclub. Out here, Yixing can be in Hollywood one day and fly out to Dallas the next, can be crammed in some god awful car listening to Zitao butcher another hip hop rap or on the tour bus of former rock stars finding packets of suspicious looking substances.

“I don’t know,” he says, listening as the first few drop of rain pitter patter onto the ground. “I just want to make the most of this tour. I mean, I promised Jongdae I’d help him.”

Lu Han smiles at that. “You really like him, huh?”

Yixing feels himself blush, and hopes it’s too dark for Lu Han to see. “He’s my friend,” he mumbles, embarrassed, “I like helping my friends.”

“Ah yes, ‘friends,’” Lu Han scoffs, drawing quotation marks in the air. Yixing gives him a look. “Oh, you didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you?”

“I...” Yixing splutters indignantly. “I’m just his friend-”

“Hey,” Lu Han interrupts, giving Yixing a warning look, “I know when people are lying. Been in show business long enough.”

Yixing forces out a scoff as he gets his passenger door open, getting out.

“Lying!” Lu Han calls, loud enough for Yixing to hear. The assistant waves a hand dismissively over his shoulder.

~*~

Jongdae avoids speaking to Lu Han for the next few days, which results in him inadvertently avoiding Yixing too. The car rides to and from events feel like passing storms to Yixing, flash floods where he can only hold onto his clipboard and pray for some end. Lu Han’s face is a mask, and Jongdae’s eyes are dark. Yixing finds himself trying not to breathe too loudly.

The tension still holds even after the last scheduled interview of that week, so much so that Yixing wonders if the atmosphere will always haunt this car, this route, this city. Yixing spends the journey staring out the window, counting street lamps, shrubs, buses, anything that will make him feel like he isn’t suffocating. It helps, just a bit.

The first person to leave the vehicle once they’ve reached the hotel is Jongdae, of course. With the slam of the door Yixing sighs, slumping back in his seat a little. Neither him nor Lu Han move for a moment.

It’s Lu Han who breaks the silence. “You should go talk to him,” he says.

“I don’t know what to say,” Yixing replies.

“You’re his best friend,” Lu Han shrugs, and Yixing looks up to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. “You’ll figure something out.”

Yixing takes a moment, composes his thoughts. “We have three stops left,” he says, to no one in particular.

“Four, actually, if you count Vegas.”

He looks up, eyes widening at the news. “Jongdae got in?”

Lu Han nods. “Yeah. Haven’t told him, of course. But you can, if you like.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Yixing demands. “You guys might finally have been able to talk stuff out.”

“He’s not angry for the reason you think he is,” Lu Han says, turning around to look at Yixing.

“Then what’s he angry about?”

Lu Han looks like he would really like to explain, but instead he says, “it’s...not right for me to say. Doesn’t really matter.” He shakes his head dismissively. “Just go talk to him, will you? Settle his edges or something. He’s always been more comfortable with you than anyone else.”

Yixing bites his lip as he thinks. “Okay,” he finally says, quietly. He glances at Lu Han before getting out the car, missing the way the agent hides his face in his hands.

~*~

The room to Jongdae’s door is ajar. Some slow, acoustic track is playing and Yixing pauses, spotting Jongdae on the bed. He’s curled up on the duvet, just like he had been that night in L.A. that they’d gone out drinking, except now his back is facing the door and Yixing can’t see his face.

He takes a deep breath and skips knocking, pushing the door open instead.

“You know, I’m not going to apologize,” Jongdae says, not moving.

“Wasn’t going to ask you for one,” Yixing replies, and that’s when Jongdae sits up, faces Yixing.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and Yixing feels his expression soften, “thought you were Lu Han.”

Yixing shrugs and sits down in one of the chairs. “Well, I’m not, so.”

Jongdae nods and lays back down, staring at the ceiling. He looks exhausted, gaunt even. Yixing feels like he’d be able to reach out and trace the worry in his face, the doubts, the fears. It felt like some sort of pattern, how Jongdae suddenly seemed so...vulnerable when they were alone in his hotel room.

“Are you angry?” He asks.

“Hmm,” Jongdae laughs softly to himself, closes his eyes. “I don’t know. I feel a lot of things, really.”

Yixing leans back in the chair. He remembers his conversation with Lu Han a while ago. “What are you going to do, after the show?”

Jongdae’s face remains serene. For a moment, Yixing thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he suddenly says, “I guess I’ll just go home, take a break for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jongdae opens his eyes and looks at Yixing. Yixing doesn’t know what else to say, so he just looks back at Jongdae, studying his features. They stay like that for a while, in a heart-pounding stillness, Yixing unable to breathe and unable to think. And then Jongdae closes his eyes, turns around, and the moment is lost.

Touring definitely takes it’s toll on Jongdae the most. Yixing sits there for a moment and watches Jongdae’s unmoving form, observes how thin he is, the way his clothes hang off him. Then he gets up, pushing all thoughts aside, and walks to the other side of the bed before lying down. Jongdae opens his eyes again, but he doesn’t seem surprised.

The hotel has gone to great lengths with their ceiling decor, painting a sky dotted with fluffy, white clouds. But in the light, the blue sky looks greenish, and only the shadows of the clouds are visible, so the whole thing is hardly recognizable.

“Are you scared?” He finds himself asking.

It takes a moment before Jongdae replies, “there’s nothing to be scared of.”

“Oh,” Yixing says, and then laughs softly to himself. “Right, it is your job, after all.”

He misses the way Jongdae’s eyes flicker. “Yeah.”

“So what will you do?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, after the tour. What will you do?”

Yixing laces his fingers across his stomach, crosses his ankles. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I’ll probably go home too.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae replies, voice growing soft, “try to get a normal life.”

Yixing nudges his arm. “Is my life abnormal?”

“You think it isn’t?”

“I think...I think it’s fun. It’s interesting. I don’t really know what normal is, I guess,” Yixing shrugs, “this is the only life I know.”

Jongdae chuckles, but it sounds almost sad. “We’re getting too old for this,” he murmurs. When Yixing looks at him his eyes are closed again.

“You’re not even thirty.”

“I’m as tired as a fifty year old, though.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Yixing mumbles. He sounds a little unsure himself. They’ve never actually spoken like this, about touring, about what it does to you, about how some days you look for a way home and you forget if it’s left or right, or if you’re in Boston or Washington, or Seoul or Busan, or Beijing or Changsha. The longer Yixing looks at Jongdae’s face, the more his heart feels like breaking, and he isn’t sure why.

“Either way,” Jongdae whispers, “I’m tired.” He moves closer to Yixing on the bed, resting his head against Yixing’s shoulder, and Yixing stops pressing the backs of their hands together and laces his fingers with Jongdae’s. They lie there, listening to the soft whirring of the air conditioning, the ticking of the clock on the bedside, and eventually Yixing moves, turns on his side and curls up closer to Jongdae.

He closes his eyes, feeling how warm Jongdae is beside him. It’s his first semblance of home in years.

✈