clarity - part one.
title: if our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?
fandom: exo-m
pairing: yixing/luhan, some yixing/kris
rating: nc-17
prompt: "luhan and yixing's r/s has lost it's spark so luhan or yixing (doesn't matter who) goes out for a night and does smth stupid (cheats) but then has guilty angsty sex after."
| o n e |
It began with broken glass. The first battle strikes would be exchanged, and then someone would push a knickknack off the shelves and it would shatter, a kaleidoscope of colored shards decorating the floor. Minutes later, it'd be a full-on throwing match, head shots worth 10 points and gut shots worth 30, except no one was playing the game to win because no one was playing the game at all. And when it was over, the only thing either of them knew was that it hurt so much and it hurt so deep and it hurt like this because this was how things were nowadays.
Yixing vaguely remembered the days before this happened, that heady bliss of love or lust or something in between that made so much sense to him even if it was beyond inexplicable to others. It wasn't an instant attraction: he still remembered thinking to himself that Luhan had such a small head and that Luhan's face was kind of babyish in a freaky way. It wasn't love at first sight: Yixing forgot Luhan's name so many times over the next week that Luhan donned a name tag everywhere he went just in case Yixing slipped up and forgot again, and Yixing hated him for being a prick about it. It was like overnight Yixing just knew. He knew that he loved Luhan, and when they were together alone after practice one day, Yixing leaned over and pecked Luhan on the lips, and then that became rough and fiery sex in Yixing's messy bed, and then that became a relationship. Just like that.
Yixing remembered how it felt to have Luhan sneak into his room at night, and cuddle up to him to talk about everything from philosophy to music to life. Things seemed to just make sense, fall into place, and Yixing never questioned it for a minute. It was that simple: Luhan was his soulmate, Luhan was his rock, Luhan was everything. And their love was so perfect, so satisfying, so all-encompassing that Yixing stopped identifying himself as anything other than Luhan's boyfriend because that role, that identity had so quickly swallowed up everything else Yixing was. And for so long, Yixing had been okay with that.
When they moved out of the dorm and got an apartment together on the other side of the city, it was like they were that much closer to the perfect future. But quickly, Luhan began to change, into someone Yixing wanted nothing to do with. Yixing had always known monogamy, a sedentary domestic lifestyle especially, was never what Luhan wanted, but he had been willing to believe otherwise because he was that desperate for Luhan to try, he was that desperate to keep Luhan by his side, he was that desperate to have Luhan love him the same way he loved Luhan.
It wasn't so much the constant smell of marijuana drifting around the apartment, or the vodka bottles strewn haphazardly in the bathroom and kitchen, but the string of fangirls and fanboys alike who needed little prompting than a quick hit and a burning shot down the throat to get on their knees and suck Luhan off. That hurt Yixing the most.
And when Yixing confronted Luhan for the first time, Luhan shoved past him angrily and told him to mind his own business, to fuck off, and Yixing's reply caught in his throat. It cut through him like a razor sharp knife, the vitriol in Luhan's words, and that night, while Luhan was passed out in a drunken and high stupor on their bed, Yixing threw the marijuana down the trash chute and emptied all the alcohol bottles.
They communicated in little more than sullen looks and occasional grunts that could qualify as sounds of assent or at least apathy. But when they fought, it was so terrible to behold: Yixing never said anything, listening to Luhan wail and scream and shout like a little child throwing a temper tantrum, and after Luhan flounced off, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him, Yixing would kneel on the floor picking up the shards of whatever Luhan had opted to break this time and trying to glue it back together while the tears poured down his face and he sobbed violently and painfully even as deafeningly loud music thumped through the speakers inside the bedroom.
Tonight was the last straw. Luhan had stormed out of the apartment instead of into the bedroom, and here Yixing was, all alone, for the first time in a long while. But Yixing was all cried out. And as he sat in the dark, the glint of crystal pieces all around him, he realized that he was long past caring. He remembered how good the relationship had been, but that was over now, clearly. He remembered but he'd have to forget tonight.
He sidestepped the wreckage and made his way to the front door and then he was gone into the night because Luhan didn't care and maybe Yixing was starting not to either.
part two
fandom: exo-m
pairing: yixing/luhan, some yixing/kris
rating: nc-17
prompt: "luhan and yixing's r/s has lost it's spark so luhan or yixing (doesn't matter who) goes out for a night and does smth stupid (cheats) but then has guilty angsty sex after."
| o n e |
It began with broken glass. The first battle strikes would be exchanged, and then someone would push a knickknack off the shelves and it would shatter, a kaleidoscope of colored shards decorating the floor. Minutes later, it'd be a full-on throwing match, head shots worth 10 points and gut shots worth 30, except no one was playing the game to win because no one was playing the game at all. And when it was over, the only thing either of them knew was that it hurt so much and it hurt so deep and it hurt like this because this was how things were nowadays.
Yixing vaguely remembered the days before this happened, that heady bliss of love or lust or something in between that made so much sense to him even if it was beyond inexplicable to others. It wasn't an instant attraction: he still remembered thinking to himself that Luhan had such a small head and that Luhan's face was kind of babyish in a freaky way. It wasn't love at first sight: Yixing forgot Luhan's name so many times over the next week that Luhan donned a name tag everywhere he went just in case Yixing slipped up and forgot again, and Yixing hated him for being a prick about it. It was like overnight Yixing just knew. He knew that he loved Luhan, and when they were together alone after practice one day, Yixing leaned over and pecked Luhan on the lips, and then that became rough and fiery sex in Yixing's messy bed, and then that became a relationship. Just like that.
Yixing remembered how it felt to have Luhan sneak into his room at night, and cuddle up to him to talk about everything from philosophy to music to life. Things seemed to just make sense, fall into place, and Yixing never questioned it for a minute. It was that simple: Luhan was his soulmate, Luhan was his rock, Luhan was everything. And their love was so perfect, so satisfying, so all-encompassing that Yixing stopped identifying himself as anything other than Luhan's boyfriend because that role, that identity had so quickly swallowed up everything else Yixing was. And for so long, Yixing had been okay with that.
When they moved out of the dorm and got an apartment together on the other side of the city, it was like they were that much closer to the perfect future. But quickly, Luhan began to change, into someone Yixing wanted nothing to do with. Yixing had always known monogamy, a sedentary domestic lifestyle especially, was never what Luhan wanted, but he had been willing to believe otherwise because he was that desperate for Luhan to try, he was that desperate to keep Luhan by his side, he was that desperate to have Luhan love him the same way he loved Luhan.
It wasn't so much the constant smell of marijuana drifting around the apartment, or the vodka bottles strewn haphazardly in the bathroom and kitchen, but the string of fangirls and fanboys alike who needed little prompting than a quick hit and a burning shot down the throat to get on their knees and suck Luhan off. That hurt Yixing the most.
And when Yixing confronted Luhan for the first time, Luhan shoved past him angrily and told him to mind his own business, to fuck off, and Yixing's reply caught in his throat. It cut through him like a razor sharp knife, the vitriol in Luhan's words, and that night, while Luhan was passed out in a drunken and high stupor on their bed, Yixing threw the marijuana down the trash chute and emptied all the alcohol bottles.
They communicated in little more than sullen looks and occasional grunts that could qualify as sounds of assent or at least apathy. But when they fought, it was so terrible to behold: Yixing never said anything, listening to Luhan wail and scream and shout like a little child throwing a temper tantrum, and after Luhan flounced off, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him, Yixing would kneel on the floor picking up the shards of whatever Luhan had opted to break this time and trying to glue it back together while the tears poured down his face and he sobbed violently and painfully even as deafeningly loud music thumped through the speakers inside the bedroom.
Tonight was the last straw. Luhan had stormed out of the apartment instead of into the bedroom, and here Yixing was, all alone, for the first time in a long while. But Yixing was all cried out. And as he sat in the dark, the glint of crystal pieces all around him, he realized that he was long past caring. He remembered how good the relationship had been, but that was over now, clearly. He remembered but he'd have to forget tonight.
He sidestepped the wreckage and made his way to the front door and then he was gone into the night because Luhan didn't care and maybe Yixing was starting not to either.
part two