[fic dump] onwards 'til the end (beginning)
[fic dump] onwards 'til the end (beginning)
Lay/Luhan, friendship!Lay/Kris?
not finished, probably won't ever be :(
G.
come close your eyes / and open them wide / see my view
the view / of grayscale hues
i’m trying, i’ve been trying / to be someone you believe in
i’m trying, i’ve been trying / to see who i’m meant to be
wake up in neverland - clara c
The moment the studio’s lights shut off, Yixing knows it’s fifteen minutes past midnight. He sighs and goes to turn off the boombox - the lights turning off is a silent reminder by the agency to sleep (or at least put up the illusion of sleep).
The ache in his muscles plagues him as he slowly walks to the dorms. A quick shower, a small snack to stop his stomach from growling, then sleep; Yixing sets his alarm for five thirty, ignoring the clock glaring the time as one in the morning.
There is no excuse for him not to practice as much as his body can handle.
Yifan’s resigned to his schedule by now, so he only says to Yixing later during lunch, “Eat more.”
Yixing just shakes his head. “This is enough.”
He swallows his half bowl of rice and few pieces of meat in five minutes.
暂停 pause.
One of Yixing’s earliest memories consists of him standing on a stage. He doesn’t remember which stage, or when, just lights shining down, cheers and laughter and applause mixing together to form a roar wrapping around his delighted body.
He doesn’t remember when he actually fell in love with performing - he’s always been in love, addicted to the rush of adrenaline coming from nervousness twined together with a certain hopefulness that the audience will find him worth cheering. Music had come a few years later, in Star Academy, when he’d finally understood how just a slightly altered chord in a line of progressions can change the whole tone of a melody. The piano, guitar, and his voice became his instruments in the chase after perfection, and it wasn’t long until he’d remembered oh, that’s right, his body.
Despite training with Yifan for over a year, Yixing sometimes still doesn’t feel quite comfortable around him. Maybe it’s because of how often and easily he slips into English or the way his Chinese holds a tinge of western accent, but there’s something about him that doesn’t allow Yixing to fully open up to him. He’s left thinking that perhaps the older, bitterer trainees were right, that maybe there’s no point in trying to find someone to confide in when there’s absolutely no guarantee the very same friend won’t one day leave you behind in his transformation to phoenix. Because when that happens, it doesn’t matter how close of friends you were - there will always be a subtle distinction between you, of one being qianbei and the other being a step behind, maybe with nothing at all to show for all those years.
Yixing tries anyway; his nature isn’t one made for seclusion no matter how much he sometimes craves time for himself.
Except their personalities aren’t meant to be 知己 (or as Yifan dryly clarifies, 蓝颜知己, guy friends close enough to be confidants): Yifan has the tendency to take things too seriously, while Yixing tends to make light, and together they end up all too often in a mix of frustration and laughter. Yifan needs lightness that isn’t too free, and Yixing isn’t it. He knows when to be serious, but his seriousness when dealing with others cannot be assured and steadfast. Instead, his seriousness takes the form of reassurance, of protectiveness until he turns it back to himself, but until then, Yixing isn’t the one Yifan will be able to question his life with, to poke and turn it this way and that way, to make sure he’s chosen the right path.
It takes a while until Yifan finally admits defeat though, but when he does, he says to Yixing, “You need to be grounded by someone who knows lightness, like you.”
Someone who knows when to be light and when to be firm; someone to tease instead of advising or lecturing Yixing into changing his goals into something manageable (at least for one day) - someone that’s like him, but different enough in ways that count. And in a moment of sentimentality, Yifan murmurs, “Someone who can help you bloom.”
“Let’s hope a person like that actually exists,” Yixing laughs.
He’s so tired. After a twelve hour practice day yesterday, all Yixing wants to do is to keep sleeping, without worrying about his voice and how it hasn’t been as flexible lately, or about whether his dancing has been up to par with Jongin or Minseok, but he forces himself to go to the 7AM Korean class today.
Class ends after two hours, and his stomach is rumbling due to him missing breakfast in the rush out the door. If he doesn’t manage to find something to eat, there’s a strong possibility of him fainting later in the two hour dancing session, and that’s something he doesn’t want to (ever) happen.
Yixing isn’t paying attention to his surroundings, focused only on stuffing the small bun in his hands into his mouth as quickly as possible, and when he bumps into someone, he just sketches a quick bow, mumbling a garbled sorry without looking. He’ll be late for his vocal lessons in about thirty seconds.
By the time he reaches the classroom, he’s already at least five minutes late - the voice teacher doesn’t really notice him though, as he’s too preoccupied trying to quiet the class down. Vocal lessons are taught in groups of six to seven people once a week, with one on one tutoring on the other days, so whenever everyone gets together, there’s almost always an explosion of chatter that takes a while to subside.
Today though, the conversations aren’t about how they’ve been, how they’ve improved in dancing or singing or rapping or language lessons; they’re about the new boy who’s supposedly been cast off the street. Street castings are considered inferior until proven talented, and Yixing can hear the slight lilt of disdain coating each sentence said by those who auditioned, can see the smirk waiting to form on the majority of the boys’ faces. He doesn’t join in the talk though, as he’s had enough experience in entertainment to know how well pretty faces sell, even when the owner has virtually no musical or dancing talent. He’s seen enough Chinese child stars boost themselves into being models or mediocre singers and actors just by growing into the promise their childish faces had held to understand why SM Entertainment sends scouts onto the streets on a regular basis.
Everyone suddenly stops talking when the vocal teacher pounds out a line of music on the piano, fortissimo e con fuoco.
Once vocal lessons end and everyone is heading to the cafeteria, Yixing wonders whether he should skip lunch today. With his bun eaten, he’s set to last for another four hours without his blood sugar dropping dangerously low, and he’s turned into the hallway for the dance studios when once again, he bumps into someone. The figure seems familiar, and so he glances at him. It’s the same person he bumped into earlier in the day.
Yixing tries to know all the trainees at least by face, so when he doesn’t recognize the guy, he concludes that this must be the new boy - the new boy whose head is already bowed low enough to be overly formal, annyeonghaseyo coming out from his mouth. His greeting has a familiar accent, and it isn’t until Yixing has said annyeonghaseyo back and hears his own voice that he gets it: the boy is Chinese.
“你好,” Yixing says, a grin beginning to spread on his face, the words rolling off his tongue. “我是张艺兴.” Hi, I’m Zhang Yixing.
Luhan is assigned to the dorm room Yixing and Yifan share, and he had been looking for it the first time Yixing had bumped into him.
“Sorry,” Yixing sheepishly apologizes, “I was late earlier this morning.”
Luhan has a laugh that takes over his entire face, transforming it from a hybrid of pretty boy and manly features to unrestrained hilarity.
Yixing can’t help but laugh along, spurred partially because of how abandoned Luhan is in his mirth.
Yifan’s already in bed when Yixing and Luhan get back to their dorm room later in the day (Yixing had shown Luhan around, delighted in the chance to speak Chinese with another trainee who wasn’t Yifan or Henry or Amber - their accented Chinese just isn’t the same, with their tendency to throw in English words when their memories cannot conjure up the correct corresponding Chinese pronunciation).
“Oh,” Yifan articulates. “Hi.”
Yixing manages to not groan. “Anyway,” he says into the awkward silence, “your bed’s the one next to mine. Just ignore Yifan, he doesn’t talk much when he’s dead tired and in bed.”
His street casting stigma is removed the first time Luhan sings. His voice is smooth, malleable, and it’s so different in the wide range of power vocals that everyone doesn’t know what to make of it other than realizing that this pretty face can sing.
And once Luhan dances, he’s accepted by the rest of the trainees - Luhan doesn’t have overwhelming body control, and neither does his body instinctively mesh with the music, but it’s obvious Luhan knows what it means to follow the beat and hit the right moves at just the right moment.
Luhan manages to integrate himself into Yixing’s daily schedule a little too easily - half of it is because he’s in almost all of Yixing’s classes, but the other half is also because Luhan himself instinctively draws people to him and Yixing cannot help but be attracted to him and his easy-going nature.
Lay/Luhan, friendship!Lay/Kris?
not finished, probably won't ever be :(
G.
come close your eyes / and open them wide / see my view
the view / of grayscale hues
i’m trying, i’ve been trying / to be someone you believe in
i’m trying, i’ve been trying / to see who i’m meant to be
wake up in neverland - clara c
The moment the studio’s lights shut off, Yixing knows it’s fifteen minutes past midnight. He sighs and goes to turn off the boombox - the lights turning off is a silent reminder by the agency to sleep (or at least put up the illusion of sleep).
The ache in his muscles plagues him as he slowly walks to the dorms. A quick shower, a small snack to stop his stomach from growling, then sleep; Yixing sets his alarm for five thirty, ignoring the clock glaring the time as one in the morning.
There is no excuse for him not to practice as much as his body can handle.
Yifan’s resigned to his schedule by now, so he only says to Yixing later during lunch, “Eat more.”
Yixing just shakes his head. “This is enough.”
He swallows his half bowl of rice and few pieces of meat in five minutes.
暂停 pause.
One of Yixing’s earliest memories consists of him standing on a stage. He doesn’t remember which stage, or when, just lights shining down, cheers and laughter and applause mixing together to form a roar wrapping around his delighted body.
He doesn’t remember when he actually fell in love with performing - he’s always been in love, addicted to the rush of adrenaline coming from nervousness twined together with a certain hopefulness that the audience will find him worth cheering. Music had come a few years later, in Star Academy, when he’d finally understood how just a slightly altered chord in a line of progressions can change the whole tone of a melody. The piano, guitar, and his voice became his instruments in the chase after perfection, and it wasn’t long until he’d remembered oh, that’s right, his body.
Despite training with Yifan for over a year, Yixing sometimes still doesn’t feel quite comfortable around him. Maybe it’s because of how often and easily he slips into English or the way his Chinese holds a tinge of western accent, but there’s something about him that doesn’t allow Yixing to fully open up to him. He’s left thinking that perhaps the older, bitterer trainees were right, that maybe there’s no point in trying to find someone to confide in when there’s absolutely no guarantee the very same friend won’t one day leave you behind in his transformation to phoenix. Because when that happens, it doesn’t matter how close of friends you were - there will always be a subtle distinction between you, of one being qianbei and the other being a step behind, maybe with nothing at all to show for all those years.
Yixing tries anyway; his nature isn’t one made for seclusion no matter how much he sometimes craves time for himself.
Except their personalities aren’t meant to be 知己 (or as Yifan dryly clarifies, 蓝颜知己, guy friends close enough to be confidants): Yifan has the tendency to take things too seriously, while Yixing tends to make light, and together they end up all too often in a mix of frustration and laughter. Yifan needs lightness that isn’t too free, and Yixing isn’t it. He knows when to be serious, but his seriousness when dealing with others cannot be assured and steadfast. Instead, his seriousness takes the form of reassurance, of protectiveness until he turns it back to himself, but until then, Yixing isn’t the one Yifan will be able to question his life with, to poke and turn it this way and that way, to make sure he’s chosen the right path.
It takes a while until Yifan finally admits defeat though, but when he does, he says to Yixing, “You need to be grounded by someone who knows lightness, like you.”
Someone who knows when to be light and when to be firm; someone to tease instead of advising or lecturing Yixing into changing his goals into something manageable (at least for one day) - someone that’s like him, but different enough in ways that count. And in a moment of sentimentality, Yifan murmurs, “Someone who can help you bloom.”
“Let’s hope a person like that actually exists,” Yixing laughs.
He’s so tired. After a twelve hour practice day yesterday, all Yixing wants to do is to keep sleeping, without worrying about his voice and how it hasn’t been as flexible lately, or about whether his dancing has been up to par with Jongin or Minseok, but he forces himself to go to the 7AM Korean class today.
Class ends after two hours, and his stomach is rumbling due to him missing breakfast in the rush out the door. If he doesn’t manage to find something to eat, there’s a strong possibility of him fainting later in the two hour dancing session, and that’s something he doesn’t want to (ever) happen.
Yixing isn’t paying attention to his surroundings, focused only on stuffing the small bun in his hands into his mouth as quickly as possible, and when he bumps into someone, he just sketches a quick bow, mumbling a garbled sorry without looking. He’ll be late for his vocal lessons in about thirty seconds.
By the time he reaches the classroom, he’s already at least five minutes late - the voice teacher doesn’t really notice him though, as he’s too preoccupied trying to quiet the class down. Vocal lessons are taught in groups of six to seven people once a week, with one on one tutoring on the other days, so whenever everyone gets together, there’s almost always an explosion of chatter that takes a while to subside.
Today though, the conversations aren’t about how they’ve been, how they’ve improved in dancing or singing or rapping or language lessons; they’re about the new boy who’s supposedly been cast off the street. Street castings are considered inferior until proven talented, and Yixing can hear the slight lilt of disdain coating each sentence said by those who auditioned, can see the smirk waiting to form on the majority of the boys’ faces. He doesn’t join in the talk though, as he’s had enough experience in entertainment to know how well pretty faces sell, even when the owner has virtually no musical or dancing talent. He’s seen enough Chinese child stars boost themselves into being models or mediocre singers and actors just by growing into the promise their childish faces had held to understand why SM Entertainment sends scouts onto the streets on a regular basis.
Everyone suddenly stops talking when the vocal teacher pounds out a line of music on the piano, fortissimo e con fuoco.
Once vocal lessons end and everyone is heading to the cafeteria, Yixing wonders whether he should skip lunch today. With his bun eaten, he’s set to last for another four hours without his blood sugar dropping dangerously low, and he’s turned into the hallway for the dance studios when once again, he bumps into someone. The figure seems familiar, and so he glances at him. It’s the same person he bumped into earlier in the day.
Yixing tries to know all the trainees at least by face, so when he doesn’t recognize the guy, he concludes that this must be the new boy - the new boy whose head is already bowed low enough to be overly formal, annyeonghaseyo coming out from his mouth. His greeting has a familiar accent, and it isn’t until Yixing has said annyeonghaseyo back and hears his own voice that he gets it: the boy is Chinese.
“你好,” Yixing says, a grin beginning to spread on his face, the words rolling off his tongue. “我是张艺兴.” Hi, I’m Zhang Yixing.
Luhan is assigned to the dorm room Yixing and Yifan share, and he had been looking for it the first time Yixing had bumped into him.
“Sorry,” Yixing sheepishly apologizes, “I was late earlier this morning.”
Luhan has a laugh that takes over his entire face, transforming it from a hybrid of pretty boy and manly features to unrestrained hilarity.
Yixing can’t help but laugh along, spurred partially because of how abandoned Luhan is in his mirth.
Yifan’s already in bed when Yixing and Luhan get back to their dorm room later in the day (Yixing had shown Luhan around, delighted in the chance to speak Chinese with another trainee who wasn’t Yifan or Henry or Amber - their accented Chinese just isn’t the same, with their tendency to throw in English words when their memories cannot conjure up the correct corresponding Chinese pronunciation).
“Oh,” Yifan articulates. “Hi.”
Yixing manages to not groan. “Anyway,” he says into the awkward silence, “your bed’s the one next to mine. Just ignore Yifan, he doesn’t talk much when he’s dead tired and in bed.”
His street casting stigma is removed the first time Luhan sings. His voice is smooth, malleable, and it’s so different in the wide range of power vocals that everyone doesn’t know what to make of it other than realizing that this pretty face can sing.
And once Luhan dances, he’s accepted by the rest of the trainees - Luhan doesn’t have overwhelming body control, and neither does his body instinctively mesh with the music, but it’s obvious Luhan knows what it means to follow the beat and hit the right moves at just the right moment.
Luhan manages to integrate himself into Yixing’s daily schedule a little too easily - half of it is because he’s in almost all of Yixing’s classes, but the other half is also because Luhan himself instinctively draws people to him and Yixing cannot help but be attracted to him and his easy-going nature.