[Fic] Eight Thousand Nine Hundred Seventy-Eight Days
Title: Eight Thousand Nine Hundred Seventy-Eight Days
Pairing: Kris/Luhan
Rating: NC17
Length: 11k
Author's Note: originally seen on yifantasy
Warnings: over indulgence of champagne
Summary: Yifan gets left at the altar. So does Lu Han.
Yifan’s been alive for over twenty-four and a half years.
That’s eight thousand nine hundred seventy-one days.
As he sits on the steps, the sun shining down on the back of his neck only to be cooled by the soft breeze that blows by, he wonders if there was ever a day in all of the thousands of days he’s been alive that’s been worse than this one.
He remembers the time in fifth grade when he’d fallen out of a tree during recess and broken his arm in two places. That had hurt. His mother had cried with him and he doesn’t remember much more than the pain and the sterile white of the hospital walls, then waking up the next morning in a neon green cast.
There was a girl in high school; her laugh had been infectious, her smile even more so and Yifan remembers the tight clench in his gut every moment she'd been around. She was his first crush and he spent months pining for her from afar. The day he'd thrown caution to the wind and confessed his feelings for her was one of those few painful memories he never enjoys revisiting. She’d been nothing but sweet in her sincerity, telling him that she didn’t feel that way for him. He'd understood, but it hadn't lessened the pain. That day had sucked.
But there are still far worse days. He recalls the punch in the gut that nearly had him dropping to his knees the day his mother called to tell him his grandfather had passed away. There was another day when his best friend had been in a car accident and they had feared the worst. Yifan spent days at Chanyeol’s side, refusing to leave until the idiot woke up. It took Chanyeol four days to open his eyes and another two days before he told Yifan how slovenly he looked.
There’s a wedding invitation in Yifan’s hand. The high quality cardstock paper is baby blue, the cursive print done in a silver that glints in the sunlight. He runs his fingers over the edges, peering at the names as if they’ll give him some sort of answer.
Weddings are happy occasions. It’s the merging of two lives, the ultimate pronouncement of love and devotion and for better or worse til death do us part. People laugh at weddings. They cry joyous tears and drink champagne and toast the newlyweds, hoping the best for their future.
That’s supposed to be Yifan.
Yifan is getting married today.
Yifan was getting married today.
The pain crawls into his chest, wrapping tight around his heart as he crumples the invitation in his hand. The thing about getting married is . . . he can’t do it by himself. His bride is missing. Not missing. Just . . . gone. There was a note, ink smudged by tears. Yifan isn’t even sure they're real tears.
The words hastily scrawled onto the back of the invitation hold no importance. All Yifan knows is that he’s in an expensive tux, probably ruining the pants by sitting on the cement steps, and that he should be standing at the end of the aisle right now.
She’d been so meticulous about every detail, wanting their wedding to embody their two lives blending together. They’d agreed on everything together - picking through color swatches over breakfast, laughing at gaudy decorations behind the wedding planner’s back, wordlessly exchanging I love yous with every touch as their wedding became less fantasy and more real over the months.
Even those memories hurt now. How can so much have changed in the last few months? Even just yesterday during the rehearsal dinner, she’d been so happy. Her smile had been blinding and Yifan hadn't been able to look away. They had planned to spend the night apart for the sake of tradition, stealing lingering kisses before her maid of honor shooed Yifan out the door. He didn’t know that was the last time he’d see her.
Yifan’s vision swims and he wipes angrily at the tears threatening to spill. He wishes there were someone to yell at, that she’d had the courage to tell him to his face so some of this rage and sadness could have had an outlet. Right now, it’s just eating at him from the inside and his hands are shaking, his ears deaf to the doors of the venue slamming open behind him.
There are voices growing near, but Yifan hears none of it. He’s lost, head in his hands and the ruined invitation blowing away on the next gust of wind. There are guests waiting for him inside - guests and his groomsmen, including his best man who had taken one look at Yifan and held out his arms to keep anyone from following Yifan as he’d stormed outside.
He’s suddenly jolted to attention, blinking over at the two men now standing on the other side of the steps. One of them is in a tux not too different from Yifan’s, a bright red bowtie undone and hanging loose around his collar. His black hair is styled off his face and he looks the very image of rage, which Yifan finds rather fitting for his own mood.
“How could he do this to me?!” the man shouts, shrugging off the other man who tries to reach for him.
“Lu Han, please,” the second man pleads.
“Don’t you Lu Han, please me,” the man counters, a sneer on his lips. “I have every right to scream right now. I’ll run out into the fucking street and stop every car and scream if I need to.” His eyes are red; Yifan can see it now. And the man reaches up, fingers curling in his hair as he lets out a scream. “He fucking left me!”
Yifan can’t help it. A laugh bubbles inside him and he can’t keep it from escaping. It’s a distressingly panicked laugh, mocking almost as it filters into the air and drifts over to the pair. Instantly, the man - Lu Han - glares at Yifan, storming halfway over to him and pointing at where Yifan is still sitting, hunched on the stairs.
“You think this is funny?” he demands.
“A little bit, yeah,” Yifan admits, sitting up. The irony isn’t lost on him. Two weddings booked on the same day and two grooms left waiting for a future spouse that isn’t going to show up. It’s either grasp at the amusement of the situation, or fall into a pit of darkness and Yifan is already teetering. He doesn’t want to fall.
It’s Chanyeol who saves Yifan from possibly getting his ass kicked by a man a full head shorter than he is. He comes bolting out of the building, rushing to where Yifan is sitting and Yifan stands, trying to keep his composure as Lu Han glares at him. His legs are trembling and he has to lean against the railing, holding on tight with one hand so he doesn’t slip to the steps again.
“Things are devolving in there,” Chanyeol announces, eyes darting back and forth between Yifan and the other jilted groom who is still staring him down like he wants to claw his eyes out. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do, but you need to go back in. People need to know what’s going on.”
Yifan lets out a shuddered breath, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Chanyeol’s right. The last thing Yifan wants to do is go in there and tell all his family and friends that his bride skipped out on him.
Chanyeol reaches out, his hand warm as he wraps his fingers around Yifan’s wrist. “Yifan, it’s best to get it over with. I promise that we’ll get shit faced together tonight and I won’t even badmouth her unless you want me to.”
Yifan chuckles at that, sniffling because he’s so close to crying and he hates it. His nose stings and his eyes won’t stop watering and there's a lump in his throat that refuses to go down no matter how many times he swallows.
He wonders, for a moment, if it would be acceptable for him to collapse mid-way down the aisle; that would certainly get the message across. He takes in a deep breath, steadying himself before opening his eyes and standing tall. His hands smooth out the wrinkles on his tux jacket nervously and his stomach turns over unpleasantly.
"How do I look?" he jokingly asks Chanyeol.
It must be bad if Chanyeol can't say anything. He looks like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a choked off noise.
"You look like me," comes Lu Han's voice.
When Yifan looks over at Lu Han, he sees the anger gone - replaced with something more understanding. Empathy.
"I guess we both lost today," Yifan comments, resisting the urge to pull at his tie until it comes loose. He feels like he's choking and he hasn't even gone inside yet.
Yifan doesn't even want to think about how much money has been wasted. Everything had been paid for in advance - the wedding planner, the flowers and food, the decorations and the venue. Even the officiant and DJ have been paid and it's all been for nothing. Nothing. Today was supposed to be the culmination of all the hard work they'd put in to make this day happen.
Yifan has nothing to show for dedicating his all to one person.
"Maybe," Lu Han finally answers, scuffing his shoe on the cement. He's staring at the steps, hands in his pockets. "I'm still going on my honeymoon. Screw him."
Yifan smiles at that. "It's a shame everything else will go to waste."
"Does it have to?" Lu Han replies, squinting in the sunlight as he looks at Yifan.
"Not all of it, I guess," Yifan shrugs. "If anyone else is getting married here today, they can have it all."
"Unless we get married," Lu Han suggests.
Yifan blinks at Lu Han, head tilted. "What?"
"I'm just saying," Lu Han begins, rocking back on his heels. "If you and I got married, at least half of this wouldn't be a total loss. Plus, I'm not looking forward to going on a honeymoon alone. Misery loves company."
"You're seriously suggesting Yifan marry you?" Chanyeol butts in, eyeing the two of them like they're totally crazy.
And they might be. Yifan is actually considering it. Why the hell shouldn't they? It's not like the person he spent years with wants to marry him. He's tried that route and it had failed. Why not try another? It's not as if they can't get it annulled after the honeymoon anyway.
"Why not?" Lu Han asserts.
"Yeah," Yifan says, looking over at Chanyeol. "Why not?"
"Okay, dude, look, I know getting left at the altar is a shitty thing, but let's not get crazy." Chanyeol looks a little distressed, like he knows Yifan is about to do something stupid. "She's probably going to call tomorrow and the whole thing will blow over."
"Ditching me on our wedding day is not something that will ever blow over," Yifan explains with a frown. "She's made it abundantly clear that I'm not enough for her, that her dreams are too big."
"Maybe it was cold feet."
Lu Han laughs at that. "Everyone gets cold feet. Not everyone runs away because of it."
"He's right."
Chanyeol shakes his head. "That doesn't mean you marry a complete stranger! It means you go back to your life and -"
"She was my life!" Yifan barks, that lump in his throat growing again.
Chanyeol backs up a step, raising his hands in surrender. "It's your call, bro. I'm your Best Man. If you tell me to stand with you while you marry this guy, I'll do it." He turns toward the man standing behind Lu Han. He’s been quiet this entire time. "And you're okay with this?"
The guy shrugs. "I'm used to it."
Lu Han takes a step forward. "So we're doing this?"
"I'm willing if you are."
Lu Han's face breaks out into a smile - an attractive smile - and he holds out his hand. "I'm Lu Han."
"Yifan," he returns. "Wu Yifan."
"Alright, Wu Yifan, you corral your half and I'll grab mine. Do we want to do this in my room or yours?"
"Han's decorations are Manchester United red and yellow," the man behind him warns.
"Mine are baby blue and silver."
Lu Han pulls a face. "My room it is."
All things considered, the pandemonium and chaos that follow Yifan's announcement that his bride wasn't going to be showing up, and that he would be marrying someone else instead, weren't as bad as it could have been. Most of the bride's guests had left almost immediately. Her parents had given Yifan twin sympathetic, but not surprised looks before scurrying out the door.
The only person he pauses to hug is his mother, who has clearly been crying for some time. Yifan tells her that everything happens for a reason - just like she used to tell him when he was young and things didn’t go his way. She shakes her head at him, still teary-eyed, but supportive.
The rest of the guests are ushered down the hall to the room where Lu Han's Best Man - Minseok, Yifan learns - is waiting at the doors to greet them and let them inside. The venue staff are working behind the scenes, moving the cakes to the same reception hall, along with the gifts and extra tables to fit both parties.
The wedding party colors look horrendous together. Yifan's groomsmen have silver vests with baby blue ties and Lu Han's groomsmen have bright red bow-ties with yellow stripes.
"You're out of your mind," Joonmyun, one of Yifan's oldest friends, tells him. But he doesn't try to talk Yifan out of it either.
"I hope he's at least good in bed," Jongin adds, peering around Yifan curiously as he not so subtly checks out Lu Han's groomsmen.
"You are aware that marriage is until death do us part," Chanyeol whispers.
Yifan just raises his eyebrows. "Or until divorce papers do us sign." He sighs, placing his hands on Chanyeol's shoulders. "Look, I placed my bet on the wrong person," he explains. "Now I'm trying again. If anything, he'll keep me from being alone during my honeymoon. You can't take the next few weeks off from work, Chanyeol, and we both know I'm going to fall apart later."
"As long as you don't go replacing me," Chanyeol grumbles.
Yifan snorts out a laugh. "I could never."
“He’d better take care of you,” Chanyeol warns, voice loud enough to carry over to where Lu Han is standing.
Lu Han merely winks as he tilts his head back, letting Minseok retie his bow-tie because everyone is almost ready. They’d agreed to let the groomsmen pair off and walk down the aisle together before they do the same. Yifan only has his mother, and Lu Han had commented that his parents are not here because they don’t approve of his lifestyle, so they might as well just both walk.
Yifan is nervous; it’s his wedding, which already amounts to some nerves, but marrying a man he’d met half an hour ago really ups the ante. He tries not to wring his hands as the music starts, filtering through the closed doors in front of them. At his side, Lu Han is pressing down the front of his tux nervously, fidgeting in place. The two of them are quite the pair.
“You ready?” Lu Han whispers beside him.
“As I’m ever going to be.”
“To fresh beginnings!” Minseok toasts, his champagne glass in the air. Everyone claps and clinks their glasses. Yifan tilts his glass against Lu Han’s before they both down every drop. The ceremony had gone well; the officiant had to pause to remember Yifan’s name and nearly half the guests stood up and yelled when he asked if anyone objected.
All the groomsmen had started laughing and Lu Han had glared at everyone till they sat back down again. But now it’s done and there’s a shiny gold band on both their fingers. Yifan can’t stop running his thumb over it. He’ll have to get used to the weight.
It’s still surreal - still hasn’t hit him as hard as it’s going to later, when the knowledge sinks in that the woman he had promised to love forever is gone. For now, Yifan is content to sip on champagne and allow himself to be pulled over to the table that now houses two wedding cakes.
“Which one should we cut?” Lu Han asks, eyes flitting back and forth between them.
The two cakes are done in completely different styles. Yifan’s wedding cake has five tiers, each one wreathed in frosting flowers that glint silver, the fondant a blue that matches the decorations. Meanwhile, Lu Han’s is smaller, simpler, but no less elegant. There’s actual frosting, which is a plus, and far less flowers.
“Mine is butter pecan.”
Lu Han gives a soft hum. “This one’s red velvet.”
“Yours,” Yifan decides. He’d conceded to her favorite flavor for the cake and that reminder has his throat closing.
They grip the knife, grinning when their fingers slot together as they press down. It goes through easy and a plate is slid between them to lay the slice on.
“I’m sorry,” Lu Han whispers, “but I’ve always wanted to do this.”
A large piece of cake is suddenly smashed across Yifan’s face. He gasps, mouth wide open as Lu Han outright cackles at him, pointing and doubling over. Not one to be outmaneuvered, Yifan swipes his hand through the mess and reaches out before Lu Han can react. He smears the mess over Lu Han’s cheeks and mouth. Lu Han only laughs harder.
It’s nice for a little while at least. Yifan and Lu Han have a talk with the DJ, releasing her from having to play anything on either of their playlists and giving her the choice to play what she wants.
Lu Han discovers during their first dance that Yifan can’t dance. He laughs every time Yifan steps on his toes, reassuring him that it’s alright. “It’s fun,” Lu Han says with a grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve learned a person.”
Lu Han’s enjoyment is infectious. It keeps the reminders that none of this is right at bay. They dance together, eat together, drink two bottles of champagne together, and refuse to answer any questions regarding their decision to marry.
Chanyeol keeps a vigilant eye on Yifan and he appreciates it. Yifan’s a bit light-headed when he slides over to Chanyeol, wrapping his best friend in an arm to pull him in for a hug. “Thank you,” he mumbles into Chanyeol’s hair.
“Please don’t let this be an I told you so decision,” Chanyeol gripes, patting Yifan on the back. “So,” Chanyeol adds, leaning back with a grin, “Are you sending the wedding gifts back or keeping them.”
“I still got married,” Yifan answers. “I’m keeping them all. Can you fit them in the back of your car? I don’t want them in my apartment until I get back. Just in case.”
“I gotcha covered.”
A stumbling Lu Han emerges from a small circle of people, listing against Yifan’s side. His styled hair has wilted and he sweeps his bangs from his eyes as he blinks up at Yifan. There’s a sadness that clings to him and Yifan’s heart throbs with the same pain. He fits an arm around Lu Han’s waist.
“We should figure out where to go from here,” Yifan says, leading Lu Han away from the dance floor and closer to the exit. There aren’t many guests left now that the cake has been eaten and the champagne has slowed down. Yifan’s head is fuzzy, his movements slower and heavier from the alcohol.
“I was supposed to be in a car, heading into the sunset,” Lu Han says forlornly.
“I have a honeymoon suite booked just a few blocks down the road.” Yifan’s suitcases, along with the papers for the check in are sitting in his car out in the parking lot. “We weren’t supposed to leave until tomorrow.”
“Your destination it is then,” Lu Han declares, raising an arm in the air as he trips over his feet. He nearly brings Yifan down with him and they both start laughing when they realize they’re not actually going to fall.
They’re also too tipsy to drive to the hotel, so they both turn puppy eyes on Chanyeol who grabs Minseok and holds him out as a shield. Minseok scowls at the two of them before giving in with a roll of his eyes.
The early evening air feels nice on Yifan’s face, refreshing. Things don’t seem so bad when he has Lu Han dragging him forward, trying to guess which car is Yifan’s based on what little he knows about him. Rationally, he knows this feeling won’t last for long; he’s only made it this far because of the constant distractions and the addition of champagne.
Minseok presses the remote on Yifan’s keyring until they see the lights flashing on the back of Yifan’s car.
“FOUND IT!” Lu Han yells, just before taking off in a run. He seems to realize that he’s empty handed, but only after Minseok grabs him as Lu Han tries to pass, steering Lu Han toward Minseok’s vehicle to get his things. Yifan pauses to watch the scene with a smile.
They all pile into Yifan’s car, Lu Han laying across the back seat as Yifan rides shotgun, Minseok behind the wheel. Thankfully, Yifan retains his ability to point out where they’re supposed to go and Minseok decides it’s just easier for him to walk back to the venue. Minseok explains that he needs to get all of Lu Han’s stuff and take it back to his place anyway. Yifan goes inside the hotel to check them in as Minseok and Lu Han stand outside, talking.
“Congratulations.”
Yifan takes the key from the receptionist with a smile and a thanks before walking back out for their luggage.
Congratulations.
The word stings and Yifan bites the inside of his cheek, pushing at the emotions that threaten to spill over. Lu Han is leaning against the car, a bag over his shoulder as he waits. The smiles are gone, the realities of the day now settling into his features.
Yifan is silent as he gathers his things, his heart already beating harder in his chest, an ache throbbing through him with every pulse. The two of them use the elevator to get to the top floor, walking quietly to the end of the hall until they’re in front of the honeymoon suite.
Yifan stares at the keycard in his hand, swallowing and wondering how different things would be if she were here with him like they’d planned. His hand starts shaking and Lu Han is gentle, comforting when he takes Yifan’s arm in one hand and plucks the keycard from him with the other.
It’s Lu Han who opens the door, guiding Yifan inside. The room is just as perfect as promised. Yifan peers around wordlessly, taking in the large bed, the matching nightstands with lamps. There’s a vanity on the wall by the door to the bathroom. Yifan doesn’t have to look inside to know there’s a shower big enough for two and a hot tub inside.
He shuffles his feet, watching as Lu Han dumps his bag on the small dresser by the vanity before leaping onto the bed. He bounces so high that Yifan’s momentarily afraid Lu Han’s going to land on the floor. Lu Han sprawls out, spread eagled as he stares up at the ceiling.
“At least we’ll be miserable in style,” Lu Han announces. He tips his head back, looking at Yifan upside-down.
A knock at the door startles them both. Yifan would be annoyed at the interruption, but it’s room service with a complimentary bottle of champagne. Lu Han goes straight for the bottle, working to get the cork off before the door is even closed.
There are two glasses; Lu Han fills one to the brim, taking a sip off the top before offering it to Yifan. Yifan takes it graciously, chuckling when Lu Han heads back to his spot on the bed with the bottle, leaving the other glass untouched. Yifan turns his glass up in the mockery of a toast before draining it down in several swallows.
He sets down the glass to join Lu Han on the bed, kicking off his shoes and finally getting his tie the rest of the way off. There is a mass clothing migration - tux jackets left rumpled on the floor and belts carelessly slung onto the carpet, along with socks and vests - until they’re both comfortable.
Their dress shirts are mostly unbuttoned and Yifan stretches his legs out on the bedspread, leaning back on his palms. Lu Han is cross-legged, taking a swig from the champagne bottle before offering it to Yifan. He gladly accepts.
The silence settles in around them and Yifan can feel the alcohol dulling the pain enough to make it tolerable, manageable.
“Four years,” he mumbles, wiggling his bare foot so it hits against Lu Han’s knee. Lu Han looks up at him from where he’s been frowning down at the empty bottle. “I was with - “
“Ah!” Lu Han cuts in, pointing knowingly at Yifan. “No names. This is our honeymoon and we won’t sully it with their names. They don’t deserve that right.”
Yifan sighs. “I was with her for four years.”
Lu Han rocks side-to-side, looking everywhere but at Yifan. “I was seven,” he says. “We met when I was seven and we were each other’s everything even when we weren’t together.” Lu Han finally looks up at Yifan. His eyes are rimmed red and he’s on the verge of crying. “I should have known better. He was always so good at running away when things got too serious. I really thought I had him this time.”
Yifan reaches out, not wanting to comfort Lu Han physically unless Lu Han wants it. Lu Han crawls over and falls in Yifan’s lap, sobbing as he buries his face in Yifan’s chest, hidden. Yifan cries too. He cries because he’d never thought of spending the rest of his life without her. It had seemed inevitable that she would always be there.
Yifan lets the tears slip free, dripping down his jaw and into Lu Han’s hair. The two of them cry for what feels like hours. Lu Han fits himself more comfortably around Yifan, peering up at him with puffy eyes.
“I’m so ready for a honeymoon,” Lu Han laughs pathetically. “Just not mine,” he adds. “We were going on a road trip down memory lane. We were gonna visit all the important places we’d been together.”
“Lucky for you, I already have plane tickets for the Bahamas.”
Lu Han sits up quickly, eyes wide as he shakes his head. “No planes,” he asserts. “Nope, not on your life. Never going to happen.”
“I have sleeping pills,” Yifan offers.
Lu Han pauses, his mouth twisting as he considers it. It takes a minute, but he eventually gives in. “Alright, but I’m not sitting by the window. And you have to hold my hand because I Do Not Fly. I’ll probably cry on you. Again. Or throw up. Maybe both.”
“The warning is much appreciated.”
Lu Han doesn’t throw up on Yifan.
He does, however, turn into a jittery mess after they’re back on the ground and the sleeping pills start wearing off. They’d both taken them before take off - Lu Han for his fear of flying and Yifan for his hangover.
“It occurs to me that we still don’t know much about each other,” Lu Han says, a pair of sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose so he can give Yifan the once over.
“Well the wedding was pretty distracting,” Yifan muses aloud, smiling at Lu Han as they get into the rental car. His head doesn’t feel like it’s about to explode anymore, but his eyes still ache.
Lu Han’s eyes are puffy and he’d run his fingers through his hair a few times after waking up and declared it brushed. Neither of them look like they’re on a honeymoon, but Yifan is determined not to let it spoil the entire trip. If the woman he loves has decided she doesn’t want to be with him, then he has to let her go. It hurts like fucking hell, but there’s nothing else he can do. He’s certainly not going to beg her to come back. If he did, he’d never know if she were with him out of a sense of guilty duty or because she really wanted it.
“How old are you?” Lu Han asks, popping open the glove box to rifle curiously through the papers inside.
“Twenty-five in November.”
Lu Han clucks his tongue. “That means you’re twenty-four. We outgrow the almost ages when we start school.” Lu Han pats Yifan fondly on the thigh. “At least you’re not too young, although I’d pegged you for being older than me.”
“I’m not?” Yifan queries, eyebrows raised in surprise. Lu Han’s face is definitely one that hides his age well.
“I’m only older by less than a year, so don’t worry,” Lu Han laughs. “You’re not old enough to be my sugar daddy.”
Yifan snorts at that, the tension from such a long flight beginning to seep from him as the GPS guides them out of the confusing airport chaos and onto the open road. Yifan’s not used to seeing so much of the sky; it’s a gorgeous blue, the sun shining without so much as a cloud. The air is refreshing, even if it holds the unfamiliar scent of the ocean.
“What do you do for a living, Wu Yifan?” Lu Han continues, now inspecting the ring on his finger with his shades perched atop his head. His hair is sticking up in all directions and if Yifan wasn’t so currently self-involved, he’d call it cute.
“I’m in advertising.”
“Advertising what?” Lu Han prods, his attention now on all the knobs and buttons in the rental car. There’s always something that snags his attention and Yifan guesses it’s a coping mechanism to keep from thinking too hard.
“Mostly small time brands looking to get a foothold in the market,” he explains, eyes darting to the GPS to make sure they’re still on the right route. If there’s one thing Yifan hates about traveling, it’s getting lost. Their destination is away from the main attractions of the islands. While the casinos and water parks had been tempting, the point of their honeymoon was to spend time together without too many distractions. Yifan kinda wishes they’d gone for the resort package instead of renting a villa along a quiet stretch of the beach.
“Like?”
Yifan knows what Lu Han’s doing and he’s grateful for it even if the mundane questions are going to grow tiring real quick. “Like new children’s clothing labels or a new doll that has some feature no other doll has. Just last week there was this pitch from a client who wanted us to advertise underwear that have places to slip in butt pads so you can make your ass look better in pants.”
Lu Han makes a noise of delight when he finds the buttons for the convertible top. Yifan slows down as it rolls back and Lu Han is beaming, wrestling the strands of his unruly hair into a ponytail on the top of his head.
“Did you take the client?” Lu Han inquires, pulling down the visor to check his hair in the mirror. Yifan watches as Lu Han grimaces at his reflection and slaps the mirror shut.
“We didn’t.”
“That’s a shame. You could have used some free samples.”
“Hey!”
Lu Han cackles and Yifan finds himself feeling more light-hearted about things. At least he’s in good company.
“What about you?” Yifan asks, eyes darting to his passenger as Lu Han pulls out the manual on how to work the satellite radio.
“Starving artist,” he sighs wistfully.
When Yifan raises his eyebrows, Lu Han bursts into laughter.
“I’m a visual artist,” he explains, hands cupping his face as he tilts his head. “Sometimes I model, sometimes I do commercials. Sometimes I get naked and people paint me.”
“That sounds . . . “
Lu Han huffs a little, squirming in his seat with his nose scrunched. “We aren’t all cut out for office jobs,” he says. “I have a face that people should see.”
“And the rest of you?” Yifan teases.
“People should see that too. I have amazing thighs.”
Yifan chokes on his spit, coughing as he tries not to swerve into the other lane.
Lu Han laughs, patting Yifan high on his thigh, his hand staying there and warming Yifan through his jeans. “I played a lot of football in school,” Lu Han continues. “It does wonders for the thighs. If you’re lucky, I’ll give you the Full Experience.” Lu Han squeezes his thigh and Yifan wonders if he’s just married a mad man.
They get to the villa just in time for Yifan not to lose his mind. Lu Han’s idea to play a rousing game of basic first date questions has Yifan glad he’s not dating. Favorite color? Food? Allergies? Phobias? Favorite color to paint a room if you’re going to sleep in it? And on and on and Yifan appreciates the distraction, but the sight of his honeymoon destination is enough for Yifan to feel the pain surging forward.
It’s stunning - he can hear the waves crashing as soon as he steps out of the car and the house is surrounded by lush green plants that fade into the sand around the back. An ocean breeze cools his face and a sob wells in his throat.
Lu Han whistles low, closing the door to the car hard enough for Yifan to startle. “This is nice,” Lu Han comments. “Come on, stud. Let’s get settled in so he can go for a walk on the beach.”
Yifan does as he’s told, finding himself calming because he has Lu Han at his side. It’s amazing what the company of a stranger can do, especially when he’s going through the same thing Yifan is. It’s relatable and Yifan knows he’d fall apart if he were on his own.
Yifan had seen pictures of the rooms before he’d booked the villa, but seeing them firsthand is a different experience. What had looked cozy online is far better in person. There’s a kitchen large enough for the two of them to move around comfortably, a breakfast nook with a large window that faces the ocean, a living room with plush cream carpet that squishes between his toes, and a half bathroom with paintings of ocean scenery on the walls.
Upstairs is the master bedroom, complete with a large bed, two dressers and doors that open onto a balcony. Yifan stands outside on the balcony, his luggage on the floor by the bed as he takes in the scenery. The ocean is right there and the air helps to clear his head. He leans on the railing, slouching as he soaks it all in.
Yifan pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the view, texting it to Chanyeol.
“Don’t put that away!” Lu Han says just before Yifan can pocket his phone. “We need to remember this moment.”
Lu Han turns them away from the water, the both of them leaning back on the railing as they take a picture together, the ocean waves crashing behind them. Lu Han’s smile is infectious, two fingers thrown up by his face. He still has that ridiculous ponytail on top of his head and Yifan laughs as Lu Han then pulls out his own phone so they both have a picture.
“There,” he declares. “Our first milestone together.”
“Wasn’t getting married a milestone?” Yifan snorts.
Lu Han waves him off, already darting off to call dibs on the larger of the two dressers. Yifan isn’t fussed about it; he prefers to hang his clothing anyway.
Despite Lu Han wanting to go walking on the beach, as soon as the two of them have their stuff unpacked, luggage stowed away in the bottom of the closet, they fall onto the bed and enjoy a nap.
Yifan lays there after he wakes, making a list of things they’re going to have to get at the nearest grocery store if they’re going to eat. He watches the gentle rise and fall of Lu Han’s chest, the way his arm twitches as he sleeps, and Yifan tries not to laugh when Lu Han whimpers, his lips parting and forehead wrinkling for a moment before he still again.
As far as companions go, Lu Han is quite the breath of fresh air. Yifan can honestly say he’s never met anyone like Lu Han before. Even in college, when Yifan had been primarily dating guys, he’d never come across anyone with the confidence and surety of Lu Han. He likes it. And he also wonders what kind of person would ever want to leave Lu Han after getting to know him.
“I don’t swim in the ocean,” Lu Han deadpans.
Yifan stops in his tracks, the water up to mid-thigh as he turns around to stare at where Lu Han is standing just close enough to get his feet wet. “What?”
Lu Han is staring at the water apprehensively and Yifan thinks he might actually be serious.
“Childhood trauma,” Lu Han says, crouching to wrap his arms around his knees as the water laps around his ankles. “I lost a wrestling match with a jellyfish.”
Yifan winces and turns around, cautiously walking his way back to shore without getting knocked over by the incoming waves. He’s not dressed for swimming anyway, a pair of blue shorts slung on his hips and a white tank top over his chest to keep from burning under the sun. They’d only planned on walking in the sand.
Yifan ruffles Lu Han’s hair and Lu Han glares up at him through squinted eyes.
“Come on then,” Yifan urges, slipping his hands into his pockets. “We still have a beach to explore.”
Yifan starts walking off and he hears Lu Han fall in the sand before he’s up and jogging to catch up. “You’re not going to make fun of me?” Lu Han queries.
Yifan glances over at him, nearly laughing because Lu Han’s cheeks are puffed out. “I don’t mock people for their fears. That’s a shitty thing to do. Besides,” he adds, nudging Lu Han with his elbow, “I had an experience with a chicken once and I haven’t been able to eat chicken since.”
Lu Han loops his arm through Yifan’s and grins. “I like you, Wu Yifan,” he says. “It’s nice being married to you.”
They spend a few hours out on the beach before deciding to grab something at a local restaurant for dinner. With their bellies full, the two of them go out for groceries. Yifan spends ten minutes talking Lu Han out of buying out the small ramyun section, finally explaining to Lu Han that it’s their honeymoon and it’s alright to splurge - especially when Yifan has plenty of money set aside for it.
Lu Han leaves a kiss on Yifan’s cheek before he skips off, heading for the sweets. Yifan stands there in mild shock until someone rams their cart into his ankles from behind.
After making it back to the villa in one piece, the groceries all put away, Yifan sinks into the couch to relax. They haven’t done much, but flying always takes a lot out of him. And there’s that looming storm cloud that keeps trying to catch up with him. He sighs, pulling out his phone and deciding to facetime Chanyeol.
“Shouldn’t you be doing honeymoon things,” Chanyeol says as soon as the call connects.
“Checking in with my best friend is on that list,” Yifan chuckles.
“It’s a good thing you called. I was taking inventory of your gifts.” Chanyeol swings his phone around enough for Yifan to see the stack of presents all sitting unwrapped. The paper is shredded on the floor around them.
“You opened them?!”
“It was my duty!” Chanyeol asserts, all while pouting. “You should be thanking me. I found a scrapbook of pictures of you and -” Chanyeol pauses to make some weird hand movement and shakes his head. “Anyway, I saved you the pain of having to see that.”
Yifan’s heart lurches. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“It’s a good thing you have a friend smart enough to put your well being above his own.” Chanyeol looks smug and Yifan wrinkles his nose.
“It was Joonmyun’s idea, wasn’t it?”
Chanyeol deflates a little. “Jongin, actually.”
“Did I get anything good?”
“Well if you’re in the kitchen appliance hoarding business, yes. There’s at least four blenders here, a handful of toasters, two slow cookers, some weird looking coffee machine -”
Lu Han’s head suddenly pops in front of Yifan’s, startling both Yifan and Chanyeol. Yifan hadn’t even heard him come over. “What brand of coffee machine?”
Chanyeol gets up to inspect the box, holding it up to the phone for Lu Han to see. “Bunn?”
“Dibs!” Lu Han yells, raising his arm over his head.
“You can’t dibs Yifan’s fancy ass coffee machine,” Chanyeol huffs.
Lu Han turns on Yifan, his eyes wide and his lower lip in his teeth. He releases his lip slowly and Yifan swallows. “I’ll suck your dick for it,” Lu Han purrs.
“Deal,” Yifan croaks.
Lu Han bounces off the couch in victory, scurrying over the carpet until he nearly faceplants on his way back to where he’d been in the kitchen. Yifan is amused, endeared even, and Chanyeol makes an odd sort of noise that draws Yifan’s attention again.
“What?” Yifan questions, defensive.
Chanyeol just shakes his head. “Nothing.” He sighs and tilts his head; Yifan wishes he was there just to pet him like a puppy. “It’s good to see you smiling.”
Yifan rolls his eyes. “Goodnight, Chanyeol.”
Lu Han sings in the shower. He also uses all the hot water and isn’t the least bit repentant when Yifan lets out a shriek because the water suddenly goes cold while he’s covered in bodywash. Lu Han pops his head into the bathroom just to cackle at him and if Lu Han’s brilliant smile and rosy cheeks weren’t so disarming, Yifan would throw the sudsy loofah at him.
On second thought . . .
The loofah hits Lu Han on the back of the head as he tries and fails to shut the door in time. Yifan isn’t expecting Lu Han to barge right back inside, stripping down to nothing to squeeze himself into the shower with him. He elbows Yifan out from under the spray to rinse his hair, uncaring that the water is still growing colder by the second.
Lu Han swats Yifan on the bare ass on his way out, tossing a wink over his shoulder as Yifan stands, still in shock from the entire thing. It isn’t until later, when he’s blow drying his hair, that he realizes he missed an Opportunity. It strikes him as odd that he’s married to someone he hasn’t seen naked, but in Yifan’s defense, Lu Han’s face is very nice to look at.
Lu Han sleeps sprawled out and with his mouth open, twitching all through the night.
Lu Han is an actual zombie, groaning and grunting obnoxiously with his eyes half-closed until he gets at least a full mug of steaming hot coffee in the morning.
Lu Han wrinkles his nose at Yifan’s wardrobe before removing Yifan from the closet to find something he won’t be embarrassed to be seen next to.
Lu Han finds the joy in every little thing, including poking at Yifan’s cheeks until Yifan is blushing red and trying to find somewhere to hide.
Lu Han keeps Yifan on his toes; Yifan never knows what’s going to happen next and even if he’s bracing for it, Lu Han always manages to have Yifan sputtering with laughter and often has them running out of a store before they’re removed by security.
Lu Han makes the time fly by with his charming - when he wants to be - demeanor and his playful attitude. They spend their days together, learning the small things about each other that are pertinent to any developing relationship, romantic or not.
Lu Han hits Yifan in the face with a pillow and the two tumble off the couch in a tangle of limbs, Yifan’s face smushed in the pillow that’s lodged between them. He pulls at it and when he stares down at the man beneath him, the air leaves his lungs in a stuttered breath. Lu Han is laughing, his eyes screwed shut and his hair a staticky mess as it rubs against the carpet and Yifan is distressingly tempted to kiss him.
It’s been five days and Yifan has been swept along on a tidal wave of Lu Han the entire time. At this point, he doesn’t think he’s ever going to surface. Lu Han takes the sting away; he’s right there every time the pain gets to Yifan, squeezing into Yifan’s personal space to take it away. Yifan doesn’t know what he’s going to do when they get back to the real world.
This isn’t a real marriage. This is two men seeking each other out as a way to heal, to get through the initial burn of a lifetime with the person they love being ripped away so suddenly. It’s so selfish, but Yifan doesn’t want this to end.
He doesn’t even know what this is, but Lu Han is now staring up at Yifan with wide eyes, his tongue licking over his lips as Yifan leans down, shifting his weight onto his forearms. There’s plenty of time to stop him - Lu Han has all the control, all the leverage, but he doesn’t do more than tilt his head when Yifan presses their mouths together.
He expects Lu Han to push him away, but Lu Han threads his fingers through Yifan’s hair, licking his way into Yifan’s mouth with a low groan. It’s a jarring difference from what he’s used to, but Yifan prefers it this way. Lu Han is warm and wrapped around him, ankles now locked around Yifan’s waist as Yifan lifts them both from the floor.
They both laugh as Yifan falls back on the couch, knocking their heads together. There’s a sore spot on his forehead that Yifan rubs, Lu Han smoothing over it with his fingers as he leans in to kiss Yifan again. The couch is comfortable, and there’s enough bounce in the cushions that they could make it work, especially since Lu Han is rocking his hips impatiently in Yifan’s lap. But Yifan’s always been the sentimental type and he’s not going to fuck his husband for the first time on a couch when there’s a large bed upstairs that would be much better suited for the task.
Lu Han whines in protest, sinking his teeth into Yifan’s lower lip when Yifan gently pushes at his hips.
“I just want to move upstairs,” Yifan hisses, licking over his wounded lip.
Lu Han leans forward, mouth brushing against Yifan’s when he speaks. “You can fuck me on the stairs for all I care,” he breathes. “Just fuck me.”
Now that Lu Han knows Yifan isn’t trying to put a stop to their progress, he’s all too willing to hold on as Yifan fits his palms beneath Lu Han’s thighs - really nice, sturdy thighs - and lifts. Lu Han muffles an appreciative noise in Yifan’s neck, muttering about how he knew Yifan’s stupid large hands would feel amazing and Yifan nearly runs into the wall because he’s so distracted. It doesn’t help that Lu Han has attached his mouth to his neck, just beneath Yifan’s ear.
There’s a buzzing in Yifan’s head and his heart is thundering in his chest, anticipation singing through his veins as he rushes - but not too fast - up the stairs and to the bedroom. The blankets are still kicked to the bottom from when they’d woken up and never bothered to make the bed. Yifan just crawls over them, finally pushing Lu Han into the mattress and kissing him again.
Lu Han’s hands immediately slide beneath Yifan’s loose shirt to roam over Yifan’s stomach and chest. He tweaks Yifan’s nipples teasingly and Yifan’s hips rock forward, a moan slipping from him as Lu Han does it again.
“You’re so soft,” Lu Han groans when he runs Yifan’s shirt up to where it hooks on his arms. “I love it.” Lu Han pinches lightly at Yifan’s sides and ordinarily it would leave Yifan feeling self conscious, but he’s soaking up the attention greedily. Lu Han pushes until Yifan is rolled onto his back and Lu Han is the one between Yifan’s legs now.
He looks a little silly, but mostly just hot; his hair is a complete mess, but his cheeks are tinged with pink and his lips are wet, his eyes dark as they rake down Yifan’s bare chest. Lu Han only stares for a moment before he’s leaning down, mouth suctioning over one of Yifan’s nipples. Yifan hisses, lifting into it as the shock races down to his half-hard cock.
Lu Han keeps moving, trailing kisses and bites across Yifan’s chest and to his stomach, grinning up at Yifan as he nips at the soft skin on his belly. It shouldn’t be hot, but fuck if Yifan doesn’t find it hot enough to have him impatiently trying to get his pants off. Lu Han is in the way, but he helps, fingers hooked in the side of Yifan’s slacks to peel them down over his hips along with his boxer briefs.
Lu Han sits up, his eyes fixated on Yifan’s cock as he rushes to get his own clothes off. Yifan sits, hands on Lu Han’s waist to steady him, trapping Lu Han momentarily with his shirt over his head, licking over Lu Han’s lips as Lu Han squirms.
“Asshole,” Lu Han whispers, but he presses forward, arms around Yifan’s neck as he gets more comfortable.
Yifan has the pleasure of feeling Lu Han’s bare thighs against his, squeezing as he rocks in Yifan’s lap. He lets his hands roam over them, gripping the muscle and letting his fingers sweep up the insides until Lu Han is jerking back because Yifan is being a tease.
“Lube,” Yifan manages to say, breathing hard and not wanting to give up his hold on Lu Han. Reluctantly, Yifan releases Lu Han, sighing wistfully at the sight of Lu Han’s bare ass when he walks over to his dresser. He crouches, nearly giving Yifan a heart attack and Yifan has the sudden urge to bury his face in Lu Han’s gorgeous thighs and live out the rest of his days in a state of euphoria.
Lu Han looks like he knows exactly what Yifan’s thinking when he turns around, bottle of lube and condoms in his hand. His face is entirely too smug as he crawls back over Yifan’s lap, letting Yifan get a good look at his thighs flexing again. Lu Han is on his knees and Yifan runs his hands up the backs of his thighs reverently.
Lu Han gives a soft moan of appreciation at the way Yifan digs his fingers into the fleshiest part. “You just have fun with those,” Lu Han breathes, “while I get ready for you.”
Yifan does have fun with them, dipping low enough to get his mouth on Lu Han’s left thigh. He sucks a dark mark high on the smooth skin, enjoying the soft panting above him as Lu Han stretches himself open. Yifan slowly moves up, scraping his teeth to the side of Lu Han’s cock. Lu Han rotates his hips enough for his cock to slap against Yifan’s cheek.
“Fuck you,” Lu Han gurgles, voice cracking as Yifan turns his head to suck the tip of Lu Han’s cock into his mouth.
Lu Han tips forward, a hand on Yifan’s shoulder to keep himself up. His knees slide apart a little and Yifan tightens his grip on Lu Han’s thighs to hold him in place. Yifan hums as he swallows down the taste of precome, enjoying the way Lu Han trembles, gasping when Yifan does it again.
Yifan pulls off Lu Han’s cock with a pop, eyes narrowed at Lu Han who has just seen fit to hit him in the face with the condom this time. “I can’t do all the work,” Lu Han informs him with a teasing smile.
The condom is barely rolled down when Lu Han pinches the tip, stroking over the shaft with the lube left on his fingers. A flame ignites beneath Yifan’s skin as Lu Han lowers himself, letting the crown of Yifan’s cock rub over his rim before slowly taking it in. Lu Han sinks down as his thighs slide apart, Yifan holding tight to his waist as he tries not to thrust upward and into the tight heat of Lu Han’s ass.
“Oh,” Lu Han breathes with a shiver. “That’s nice.”
He wiggles his hips, clenching around Yifan’s cock. Yifan thinks Lu Han is trying to kill him, possibly coax his soul out through his dick. And he’s not opposed to it as long as Lu Han moves. Lu Han seems quite cozy where he is, though, and Yifan gently tips Lu Han’s face toward his for a kiss.
They’re mid-kiss, Yifan’s tongue in Lu Han’s mouth, when Lu Han finally lifts off his cock and drops back down. Yifan nearly bites his own tongue, groaning at the friction that drags along his cock. Lu Han’s breath hitches, exhaling out a moan when he does it again. Yifan fits his palms over Lu Han’s hips, helping him move faster.
Lu Han uses the power in his thighs to bounce on Yifan’s cock, his mouth dropped open and eyes dark when they’re not squeezed shut. He’s also very vocal about letting Yifan know how good he feels. And Yifan has to agree - it feels wonderful. He rocks up into Lu Han the best he can, but with his legs crossed, he doesn’t have much leverage and Lu Han really is doing all the work.
There’s a thin sheen of sweat that covers Lu Han’s face and chest, the ends of his hair beginning to curl. Yifan bumps his nose against Lu Han’s chin and Lu Han peers down at him, slowing until he’s rocking on Yifan’s dick languidly.
“Mind if I take over?” Yifan asks, licking over his dry lips.
“Please,” Lu Han groans, clenching tight around him.
Yifan manages to get his arm around Lu Han’s waist, hefting his weight and dropping him back on the bed. His cock nearly slips out of Lu Han’s ass, but Lu Han locks his legs tighter and pulls him back in. Yifan would have laughed if it didn’t feel so amazing. Yifan runs his hands up Lu Han’s spread thighs, palm on the back of one to push it upward.
Yifan holds Lu Han’s leg to his chest and fucks into Lu Han, all while enjoying the stunning view of his cock sinking into Lu Han’s ass. Lu Han lifts his hips into it, head tipped back and fingers locked around the bars on the fancy headboard. Yifan takes a moment to appreciate the smooth, slick glide and how gorgeous Lu Han looks with his back arched and cock leaking against his stomach.
Lu Han makes a noise of protest and Yifan begins to fuck him in earnest, his grip on Lu Han’s thigh tight enough to bruise. “Fuck,” Lu Han curses. “Your dick totally makes up for your flat ass.”
Yifan slams into him harder and he’s satisfied when he hears Lu Han’s teeth clack together.
“Just wait til I get you ass up,” Lu Han threatens weakly.
Yifan likes the sound of that; the idea of being able to let go, of giving up the control has him leaning forward, pushing harder and thrusting faster. He fucks Lu Han to the sound of their skin slapping together and their moans echoing in the spacious room. Lu Han clamps around him. Yifan reaches down and drags his palm up the length of Lu Han’s cock.
It only takes him doing it one more time for Lu Han to come. His body locks around Yifan, his voice stolen as he spills white over his stomach and Yifan’s fingers. It’s too much for Yifan whose hips stutter, the pressure mounting fast just before his orgasm slams into him. He fills the condom, his movements slowing as he heaves in gulps of air.
He’s gentle when he lifts, helping pull Lu Han’s leg straight again. Lu Han grunts, wincing. “I should have stretched first,” he half laughs, nudging his knee against Yifan’s side.
Yifan falls over Lu Han, keeping his weight on his knees and forearms because it’s too hot for cuddling. Next time, he’s opening the balcony doors first.
He catches his breath, nuzzling against Lu Han’s face for a moment before he gingerly pulls out of Lu Han, catching the condom before it makes a mess. Yifan ties it up and tosses it in the bathroom trash on his way to get a towel for Lu Han.
Lu Han wipes himself down, then pulls Yifan onto the bed, mumbling about a nap and then finding lunch. Yifan allows himself to be tucked in Lu Han’s arms, his back against Lu Han’s chest.
“I like you, Wu Yifan,” Lu Han sighs against the back of Yifan’s neck.
Lu Han is asleep by the time Yifan musters the courage to say, “I like you, too, Lu Han.”
The final morning of their honeymoon sees Yifan bent over most of the surfaces in the kitchen, gasping and trying to find purchase on the marble as Lu Han fills him up over and over again. And that’s just breakfast.
They go out to enjoy the beach, safely away from the water, and Lu Han’s genius idea of trying to have sex in the sand is thwarted by, well, the sand. “I told you,” Yifan complains, shimmying out of his shorts only to see grains of sand falling to the floor with them.
Lu Han thinks a great way to make it up to Yifan is to kiss him until he shuts up, his tongue soothing the irritation from Yifan as he turns into a puddle that’s easily herded toward the bed. It’s been a long time since Yifan’s made out with someone without the intention of having sex, but it’s nice. He’d forgotten how nice it can be. Making out with Lu Han might just make it onto his top ten list of nice things Yifan wants to do all the time.
Chanyeol calls in the afternoon to confirm their plans; he’s going to be meeting Yifan at his apartment after he gets home. Lu Han is in the other room, speaking softly into his phone with Minseok and Yifan watches the way his mouth pulls down and his hand ruffles through his hair in agitation. His shoulders are slumped and Yifan absentmindedly hangs up on Chanyeol to go over and comfort him.
Chanyeol sends Yifan a slew of angry emojis that Lu Han finds amusing.
Yifan takes Lu Han to a nice restaurant for their last dinner on the island. It’s a subdued affair. They drink and they eat and they make small talk. Neither of them brings up the next day. They’re both getting on a flight in the morning to go back to lives that had been ripped from them. Yifan is conflicted. He doesn’t want for them to go their separate ways once it’s over. He wants . . .
He’s not sure what he wants.
Lu Han is quiet when they get back to the villa, pulling out what he’s going to wear the next day and packing everything else back in his bag. Yifan follows his example, taking his time because he’s tired, his belly is full and his anxiety is flaring up. Being here, in this idyllic place with Lu Han, Yifan has been able to put off the inevitable. Reality was always going to be there, waiting, and Yifan dreads it.
Despite the hesitation, the pair of them go to bed early. This time, it’s Yifan who curls against Lu Han’s back, holding him close as they fall asleep. He thinks Lu Han is crying, and Yifan pushes his face to the back of Lu Han’s neck until they both finally fall asleep.
Lu Han kisses Yifan before they leave in the morning, patting his cheek lightly as Yifan pulls the door closed with a final click.
The city is a far cry from the peace and open space on the island, and yet there’s a comforting familiarity to it all. People here are always in such a rush and Yifan watches them pass by, Lu Han at his side as they weave through the crowds and out to the parking garage.
Yifan had decided, after Lu Han told him that Minseok was going to pick him up from the airport later, that it would be better for Lu Han to just come with him. Minseok can pick him up there. He wasn’t about to leave Lu Han alone, especially in an airport. Lu Han hadn’t put up much of a fight before texting Yifan’s address to Minseok.
It’s odd, having Lu Han in a space that Yifan calls home. They’re taking the elevator up to his apartment and Lu Han is still at his side, still real. Yifan knows Lu Han is real, but his head is trying to reconcile the time they had spent together on their honeymoon with the reality of his everyday life.
Lu Han toes off his shoes at the door, looking around at the place as Yifan shuts and locks the door behind him.
She’s been here.
It’s obvious that she’s come and gone; there are folded boxes propped on the side of the couch, books and pictures missing from shelves, dishes gone from the cabinets. And that’s just what Yifan can see from his place in the living room. If he goes down the hall to his bedroom, he knows that her closet will be empty, the bathroom sparse, and he doesn’t think he can handle that right now.
So he doesn’t.
Yifan puts down the luggage, walks into the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator and cracks it open. He takes a long pull before offering one to Lu Han. They have an hour to kill before Minseok shows up and Yifan doesn’t like the thoughts beginning to float around in his head.
“You want to cry on my shoulder?” Lu Han offers.
Yifan laughs. “No,” he answers honestly. “I’ll be alright.”
And he will be. He knows that now. She might have been a big part of his life for the past four years, but it was just that. Four years. He was fine before she came into his life and he’ll be fine with her gone.
Yifan’s been alive for over twenty-four and a half years.
That’s eight thousand nine hundred seventy-eight days.
He’s had good days and bad days. He’s had days that blend together and days that stand apart from the rest to fill his memories. Not every day is going to be great, but not every day is going to suck either. All he can do is take it one day at a time. The coming days aren’t going to be good; it’s going to take a lot out of him to keep going, but he will keep going.
Lu Han will be fine too. Yifan watches the way Minseok fusses over Lu Han when he shows up, thanking Yifan profusely for everything before they leave. Lu Han promises they’ll keep in touch and his number is now in Yifan’s phone under husband.
Now all Yifan needs to do is finish today so he can work on tomorrow.
Two Months Later
Yifan’s phone is wedged between his ear and his shoulder, dangerously close to slipping out and clattering to the floor. His hands are full of sketches for a new client and he’s trying to organize the chaos into the right files before his meeting.
“So, I’ll be in town next week,” Lu Han tells him.
Yifan pauses, several sheets falling from his grasp as he stands up straight. “Oh?”
Lu Han hums. “Some art guy wants to make a mold of my face,” he replies. “But I thought maybe we could get together. I can buy you dinner.”
A butterfly takes flight in Yifan’s stomach, his heart stuttering over the next several beats. “I’d like that. How long are you going to stay?”
“That depends,” Lu Han answers, drawing out his words. “How long do you want me to stay?”
“As long as you want.”
Pairing: Kris/Luhan
Rating: NC17
Length: 11k
Author's Note: originally seen on yifantasy
Warnings: over indulgence of champagne
Summary: Yifan gets left at the altar. So does Lu Han.
Yifan’s been alive for over twenty-four and a half years.
That’s eight thousand nine hundred seventy-one days.
As he sits on the steps, the sun shining down on the back of his neck only to be cooled by the soft breeze that blows by, he wonders if there was ever a day in all of the thousands of days he’s been alive that’s been worse than this one.
He remembers the time in fifth grade when he’d fallen out of a tree during recess and broken his arm in two places. That had hurt. His mother had cried with him and he doesn’t remember much more than the pain and the sterile white of the hospital walls, then waking up the next morning in a neon green cast.
There was a girl in high school; her laugh had been infectious, her smile even more so and Yifan remembers the tight clench in his gut every moment she'd been around. She was his first crush and he spent months pining for her from afar. The day he'd thrown caution to the wind and confessed his feelings for her was one of those few painful memories he never enjoys revisiting. She’d been nothing but sweet in her sincerity, telling him that she didn’t feel that way for him. He'd understood, but it hadn't lessened the pain. That day had sucked.
But there are still far worse days. He recalls the punch in the gut that nearly had him dropping to his knees the day his mother called to tell him his grandfather had passed away. There was another day when his best friend had been in a car accident and they had feared the worst. Yifan spent days at Chanyeol’s side, refusing to leave until the idiot woke up. It took Chanyeol four days to open his eyes and another two days before he told Yifan how slovenly he looked.
There’s a wedding invitation in Yifan’s hand. The high quality cardstock paper is baby blue, the cursive print done in a silver that glints in the sunlight. He runs his fingers over the edges, peering at the names as if they’ll give him some sort of answer.
Weddings are happy occasions. It’s the merging of two lives, the ultimate pronouncement of love and devotion and for better or worse til death do us part. People laugh at weddings. They cry joyous tears and drink champagne and toast the newlyweds, hoping the best for their future.
That’s supposed to be Yifan.
Yifan is getting married today.
Yifan was getting married today.
The pain crawls into his chest, wrapping tight around his heart as he crumples the invitation in his hand. The thing about getting married is . . . he can’t do it by himself. His bride is missing. Not missing. Just . . . gone. There was a note, ink smudged by tears. Yifan isn’t even sure they're real tears.
The words hastily scrawled onto the back of the invitation hold no importance. All Yifan knows is that he’s in an expensive tux, probably ruining the pants by sitting on the cement steps, and that he should be standing at the end of the aisle right now.
She’d been so meticulous about every detail, wanting their wedding to embody their two lives blending together. They’d agreed on everything together - picking through color swatches over breakfast, laughing at gaudy decorations behind the wedding planner’s back, wordlessly exchanging I love yous with every touch as their wedding became less fantasy and more real over the months.
Even those memories hurt now. How can so much have changed in the last few months? Even just yesterday during the rehearsal dinner, she’d been so happy. Her smile had been blinding and Yifan hadn't been able to look away. They had planned to spend the night apart for the sake of tradition, stealing lingering kisses before her maid of honor shooed Yifan out the door. He didn’t know that was the last time he’d see her.
Yifan’s vision swims and he wipes angrily at the tears threatening to spill. He wishes there were someone to yell at, that she’d had the courage to tell him to his face so some of this rage and sadness could have had an outlet. Right now, it’s just eating at him from the inside and his hands are shaking, his ears deaf to the doors of the venue slamming open behind him.
There are voices growing near, but Yifan hears none of it. He’s lost, head in his hands and the ruined invitation blowing away on the next gust of wind. There are guests waiting for him inside - guests and his groomsmen, including his best man who had taken one look at Yifan and held out his arms to keep anyone from following Yifan as he’d stormed outside.
He’s suddenly jolted to attention, blinking over at the two men now standing on the other side of the steps. One of them is in a tux not too different from Yifan’s, a bright red bowtie undone and hanging loose around his collar. His black hair is styled off his face and he looks the very image of rage, which Yifan finds rather fitting for his own mood.
“How could he do this to me?!” the man shouts, shrugging off the other man who tries to reach for him.
“Lu Han, please,” the second man pleads.
“Don’t you Lu Han, please me,” the man counters, a sneer on his lips. “I have every right to scream right now. I’ll run out into the fucking street and stop every car and scream if I need to.” His eyes are red; Yifan can see it now. And the man reaches up, fingers curling in his hair as he lets out a scream. “He fucking left me!”
Yifan can’t help it. A laugh bubbles inside him and he can’t keep it from escaping. It’s a distressingly panicked laugh, mocking almost as it filters into the air and drifts over to the pair. Instantly, the man - Lu Han - glares at Yifan, storming halfway over to him and pointing at where Yifan is still sitting, hunched on the stairs.
“You think this is funny?” he demands.
“A little bit, yeah,” Yifan admits, sitting up. The irony isn’t lost on him. Two weddings booked on the same day and two grooms left waiting for a future spouse that isn’t going to show up. It’s either grasp at the amusement of the situation, or fall into a pit of darkness and Yifan is already teetering. He doesn’t want to fall.
It’s Chanyeol who saves Yifan from possibly getting his ass kicked by a man a full head shorter than he is. He comes bolting out of the building, rushing to where Yifan is sitting and Yifan stands, trying to keep his composure as Lu Han glares at him. His legs are trembling and he has to lean against the railing, holding on tight with one hand so he doesn’t slip to the steps again.
“Things are devolving in there,” Chanyeol announces, eyes darting back and forth between Yifan and the other jilted groom who is still staring him down like he wants to claw his eyes out. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do, but you need to go back in. People need to know what’s going on.”
Yifan lets out a shuddered breath, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Chanyeol’s right. The last thing Yifan wants to do is go in there and tell all his family and friends that his bride skipped out on him.
Chanyeol reaches out, his hand warm as he wraps his fingers around Yifan’s wrist. “Yifan, it’s best to get it over with. I promise that we’ll get shit faced together tonight and I won’t even badmouth her unless you want me to.”
Yifan chuckles at that, sniffling because he’s so close to crying and he hates it. His nose stings and his eyes won’t stop watering and there's a lump in his throat that refuses to go down no matter how many times he swallows.
He wonders, for a moment, if it would be acceptable for him to collapse mid-way down the aisle; that would certainly get the message across. He takes in a deep breath, steadying himself before opening his eyes and standing tall. His hands smooth out the wrinkles on his tux jacket nervously and his stomach turns over unpleasantly.
"How do I look?" he jokingly asks Chanyeol.
It must be bad if Chanyeol can't say anything. He looks like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a choked off noise.
"You look like me," comes Lu Han's voice.
When Yifan looks over at Lu Han, he sees the anger gone - replaced with something more understanding. Empathy.
"I guess we both lost today," Yifan comments, resisting the urge to pull at his tie until it comes loose. He feels like he's choking and he hasn't even gone inside yet.
Yifan doesn't even want to think about how much money has been wasted. Everything had been paid for in advance - the wedding planner, the flowers and food, the decorations and the venue. Even the officiant and DJ have been paid and it's all been for nothing. Nothing. Today was supposed to be the culmination of all the hard work they'd put in to make this day happen.
Yifan has nothing to show for dedicating his all to one person.
"Maybe," Lu Han finally answers, scuffing his shoe on the cement. He's staring at the steps, hands in his pockets. "I'm still going on my honeymoon. Screw him."
Yifan smiles at that. "It's a shame everything else will go to waste."
"Does it have to?" Lu Han replies, squinting in the sunlight as he looks at Yifan.
"Not all of it, I guess," Yifan shrugs. "If anyone else is getting married here today, they can have it all."
"Unless we get married," Lu Han suggests.
Yifan blinks at Lu Han, head tilted. "What?"
"I'm just saying," Lu Han begins, rocking back on his heels. "If you and I got married, at least half of this wouldn't be a total loss. Plus, I'm not looking forward to going on a honeymoon alone. Misery loves company."
"You're seriously suggesting Yifan marry you?" Chanyeol butts in, eyeing the two of them like they're totally crazy.
And they might be. Yifan is actually considering it. Why the hell shouldn't they? It's not like the person he spent years with wants to marry him. He's tried that route and it had failed. Why not try another? It's not as if they can't get it annulled after the honeymoon anyway.
"Why not?" Lu Han asserts.
"Yeah," Yifan says, looking over at Chanyeol. "Why not?"
"Okay, dude, look, I know getting left at the altar is a shitty thing, but let's not get crazy." Chanyeol looks a little distressed, like he knows Yifan is about to do something stupid. "She's probably going to call tomorrow and the whole thing will blow over."
"Ditching me on our wedding day is not something that will ever blow over," Yifan explains with a frown. "She's made it abundantly clear that I'm not enough for her, that her dreams are too big."
"Maybe it was cold feet."
Lu Han laughs at that. "Everyone gets cold feet. Not everyone runs away because of it."
"He's right."
Chanyeol shakes his head. "That doesn't mean you marry a complete stranger! It means you go back to your life and -"
"She was my life!" Yifan barks, that lump in his throat growing again.
Chanyeol backs up a step, raising his hands in surrender. "It's your call, bro. I'm your Best Man. If you tell me to stand with you while you marry this guy, I'll do it." He turns toward the man standing behind Lu Han. He’s been quiet this entire time. "And you're okay with this?"
The guy shrugs. "I'm used to it."
Lu Han takes a step forward. "So we're doing this?"
"I'm willing if you are."
Lu Han's face breaks out into a smile - an attractive smile - and he holds out his hand. "I'm Lu Han."
"Yifan," he returns. "Wu Yifan."
"Alright, Wu Yifan, you corral your half and I'll grab mine. Do we want to do this in my room or yours?"
"Han's decorations are Manchester United red and yellow," the man behind him warns.
"Mine are baby blue and silver."
Lu Han pulls a face. "My room it is."
All things considered, the pandemonium and chaos that follow Yifan's announcement that his bride wasn't going to be showing up, and that he would be marrying someone else instead, weren't as bad as it could have been. Most of the bride's guests had left almost immediately. Her parents had given Yifan twin sympathetic, but not surprised looks before scurrying out the door.
The only person he pauses to hug is his mother, who has clearly been crying for some time. Yifan tells her that everything happens for a reason - just like she used to tell him when he was young and things didn’t go his way. She shakes her head at him, still teary-eyed, but supportive.
The rest of the guests are ushered down the hall to the room where Lu Han's Best Man - Minseok, Yifan learns - is waiting at the doors to greet them and let them inside. The venue staff are working behind the scenes, moving the cakes to the same reception hall, along with the gifts and extra tables to fit both parties.
The wedding party colors look horrendous together. Yifan's groomsmen have silver vests with baby blue ties and Lu Han's groomsmen have bright red bow-ties with yellow stripes.
"You're out of your mind," Joonmyun, one of Yifan's oldest friends, tells him. But he doesn't try to talk Yifan out of it either.
"I hope he's at least good in bed," Jongin adds, peering around Yifan curiously as he not so subtly checks out Lu Han's groomsmen.
"You are aware that marriage is until death do us part," Chanyeol whispers.
Yifan just raises his eyebrows. "Or until divorce papers do us sign." He sighs, placing his hands on Chanyeol's shoulders. "Look, I placed my bet on the wrong person," he explains. "Now I'm trying again. If anything, he'll keep me from being alone during my honeymoon. You can't take the next few weeks off from work, Chanyeol, and we both know I'm going to fall apart later."
"As long as you don't go replacing me," Chanyeol grumbles.
Yifan snorts out a laugh. "I could never."
“He’d better take care of you,” Chanyeol warns, voice loud enough to carry over to where Lu Han is standing.
Lu Han merely winks as he tilts his head back, letting Minseok retie his bow-tie because everyone is almost ready. They’d agreed to let the groomsmen pair off and walk down the aisle together before they do the same. Yifan only has his mother, and Lu Han had commented that his parents are not here because they don’t approve of his lifestyle, so they might as well just both walk.
Yifan is nervous; it’s his wedding, which already amounts to some nerves, but marrying a man he’d met half an hour ago really ups the ante. He tries not to wring his hands as the music starts, filtering through the closed doors in front of them. At his side, Lu Han is pressing down the front of his tux nervously, fidgeting in place. The two of them are quite the pair.
“You ready?” Lu Han whispers beside him.
“As I’m ever going to be.”
“To fresh beginnings!” Minseok toasts, his champagne glass in the air. Everyone claps and clinks their glasses. Yifan tilts his glass against Lu Han’s before they both down every drop. The ceremony had gone well; the officiant had to pause to remember Yifan’s name and nearly half the guests stood up and yelled when he asked if anyone objected.
All the groomsmen had started laughing and Lu Han had glared at everyone till they sat back down again. But now it’s done and there’s a shiny gold band on both their fingers. Yifan can’t stop running his thumb over it. He’ll have to get used to the weight.
It’s still surreal - still hasn’t hit him as hard as it’s going to later, when the knowledge sinks in that the woman he had promised to love forever is gone. For now, Yifan is content to sip on champagne and allow himself to be pulled over to the table that now houses two wedding cakes.
“Which one should we cut?” Lu Han asks, eyes flitting back and forth between them.
The two cakes are done in completely different styles. Yifan’s wedding cake has five tiers, each one wreathed in frosting flowers that glint silver, the fondant a blue that matches the decorations. Meanwhile, Lu Han’s is smaller, simpler, but no less elegant. There’s actual frosting, which is a plus, and far less flowers.
“Mine is butter pecan.”
Lu Han gives a soft hum. “This one’s red velvet.”
“Yours,” Yifan decides. He’d conceded to her favorite flavor for the cake and that reminder has his throat closing.
They grip the knife, grinning when their fingers slot together as they press down. It goes through easy and a plate is slid between them to lay the slice on.
“I’m sorry,” Lu Han whispers, “but I’ve always wanted to do this.”
A large piece of cake is suddenly smashed across Yifan’s face. He gasps, mouth wide open as Lu Han outright cackles at him, pointing and doubling over. Not one to be outmaneuvered, Yifan swipes his hand through the mess and reaches out before Lu Han can react. He smears the mess over Lu Han’s cheeks and mouth. Lu Han only laughs harder.
It’s nice for a little while at least. Yifan and Lu Han have a talk with the DJ, releasing her from having to play anything on either of their playlists and giving her the choice to play what she wants.
Lu Han discovers during their first dance that Yifan can’t dance. He laughs every time Yifan steps on his toes, reassuring him that it’s alright. “It’s fun,” Lu Han says with a grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve learned a person.”
Lu Han’s enjoyment is infectious. It keeps the reminders that none of this is right at bay. They dance together, eat together, drink two bottles of champagne together, and refuse to answer any questions regarding their decision to marry.
Chanyeol keeps a vigilant eye on Yifan and he appreciates it. Yifan’s a bit light-headed when he slides over to Chanyeol, wrapping his best friend in an arm to pull him in for a hug. “Thank you,” he mumbles into Chanyeol’s hair.
“Please don’t let this be an I told you so decision,” Chanyeol gripes, patting Yifan on the back. “So,” Chanyeol adds, leaning back with a grin, “Are you sending the wedding gifts back or keeping them.”
“I still got married,” Yifan answers. “I’m keeping them all. Can you fit them in the back of your car? I don’t want them in my apartment until I get back. Just in case.”
“I gotcha covered.”
A stumbling Lu Han emerges from a small circle of people, listing against Yifan’s side. His styled hair has wilted and he sweeps his bangs from his eyes as he blinks up at Yifan. There’s a sadness that clings to him and Yifan’s heart throbs with the same pain. He fits an arm around Lu Han’s waist.
“We should figure out where to go from here,” Yifan says, leading Lu Han away from the dance floor and closer to the exit. There aren’t many guests left now that the cake has been eaten and the champagne has slowed down. Yifan’s head is fuzzy, his movements slower and heavier from the alcohol.
“I was supposed to be in a car, heading into the sunset,” Lu Han says forlornly.
“I have a honeymoon suite booked just a few blocks down the road.” Yifan’s suitcases, along with the papers for the check in are sitting in his car out in the parking lot. “We weren’t supposed to leave until tomorrow.”
“Your destination it is then,” Lu Han declares, raising an arm in the air as he trips over his feet. He nearly brings Yifan down with him and they both start laughing when they realize they’re not actually going to fall.
They’re also too tipsy to drive to the hotel, so they both turn puppy eyes on Chanyeol who grabs Minseok and holds him out as a shield. Minseok scowls at the two of them before giving in with a roll of his eyes.
The early evening air feels nice on Yifan’s face, refreshing. Things don’t seem so bad when he has Lu Han dragging him forward, trying to guess which car is Yifan’s based on what little he knows about him. Rationally, he knows this feeling won’t last for long; he’s only made it this far because of the constant distractions and the addition of champagne.
Minseok presses the remote on Yifan’s keyring until they see the lights flashing on the back of Yifan’s car.
“FOUND IT!” Lu Han yells, just before taking off in a run. He seems to realize that he’s empty handed, but only after Minseok grabs him as Lu Han tries to pass, steering Lu Han toward Minseok’s vehicle to get his things. Yifan pauses to watch the scene with a smile.
They all pile into Yifan’s car, Lu Han laying across the back seat as Yifan rides shotgun, Minseok behind the wheel. Thankfully, Yifan retains his ability to point out where they’re supposed to go and Minseok decides it’s just easier for him to walk back to the venue. Minseok explains that he needs to get all of Lu Han’s stuff and take it back to his place anyway. Yifan goes inside the hotel to check them in as Minseok and Lu Han stand outside, talking.
“Congratulations.”
Yifan takes the key from the receptionist with a smile and a thanks before walking back out for their luggage.
Congratulations.
The word stings and Yifan bites the inside of his cheek, pushing at the emotions that threaten to spill over. Lu Han is leaning against the car, a bag over his shoulder as he waits. The smiles are gone, the realities of the day now settling into his features.
Yifan is silent as he gathers his things, his heart already beating harder in his chest, an ache throbbing through him with every pulse. The two of them use the elevator to get to the top floor, walking quietly to the end of the hall until they’re in front of the honeymoon suite.
Yifan stares at the keycard in his hand, swallowing and wondering how different things would be if she were here with him like they’d planned. His hand starts shaking and Lu Han is gentle, comforting when he takes Yifan’s arm in one hand and plucks the keycard from him with the other.
It’s Lu Han who opens the door, guiding Yifan inside. The room is just as perfect as promised. Yifan peers around wordlessly, taking in the large bed, the matching nightstands with lamps. There’s a vanity on the wall by the door to the bathroom. Yifan doesn’t have to look inside to know there’s a shower big enough for two and a hot tub inside.
He shuffles his feet, watching as Lu Han dumps his bag on the small dresser by the vanity before leaping onto the bed. He bounces so high that Yifan’s momentarily afraid Lu Han’s going to land on the floor. Lu Han sprawls out, spread eagled as he stares up at the ceiling.
“At least we’ll be miserable in style,” Lu Han announces. He tips his head back, looking at Yifan upside-down.
A knock at the door startles them both. Yifan would be annoyed at the interruption, but it’s room service with a complimentary bottle of champagne. Lu Han goes straight for the bottle, working to get the cork off before the door is even closed.
There are two glasses; Lu Han fills one to the brim, taking a sip off the top before offering it to Yifan. Yifan takes it graciously, chuckling when Lu Han heads back to his spot on the bed with the bottle, leaving the other glass untouched. Yifan turns his glass up in the mockery of a toast before draining it down in several swallows.
He sets down the glass to join Lu Han on the bed, kicking off his shoes and finally getting his tie the rest of the way off. There is a mass clothing migration - tux jackets left rumpled on the floor and belts carelessly slung onto the carpet, along with socks and vests - until they’re both comfortable.
Their dress shirts are mostly unbuttoned and Yifan stretches his legs out on the bedspread, leaning back on his palms. Lu Han is cross-legged, taking a swig from the champagne bottle before offering it to Yifan. He gladly accepts.
The silence settles in around them and Yifan can feel the alcohol dulling the pain enough to make it tolerable, manageable.
“Four years,” he mumbles, wiggling his bare foot so it hits against Lu Han’s knee. Lu Han looks up at him from where he’s been frowning down at the empty bottle. “I was with - “
“Ah!” Lu Han cuts in, pointing knowingly at Yifan. “No names. This is our honeymoon and we won’t sully it with their names. They don’t deserve that right.”
Yifan sighs. “I was with her for four years.”
Lu Han rocks side-to-side, looking everywhere but at Yifan. “I was seven,” he says. “We met when I was seven and we were each other’s everything even when we weren’t together.” Lu Han finally looks up at Yifan. His eyes are rimmed red and he’s on the verge of crying. “I should have known better. He was always so good at running away when things got too serious. I really thought I had him this time.”
Yifan reaches out, not wanting to comfort Lu Han physically unless Lu Han wants it. Lu Han crawls over and falls in Yifan’s lap, sobbing as he buries his face in Yifan’s chest, hidden. Yifan cries too. He cries because he’d never thought of spending the rest of his life without her. It had seemed inevitable that she would always be there.
Yifan lets the tears slip free, dripping down his jaw and into Lu Han’s hair. The two of them cry for what feels like hours. Lu Han fits himself more comfortably around Yifan, peering up at him with puffy eyes.
“I’m so ready for a honeymoon,” Lu Han laughs pathetically. “Just not mine,” he adds. “We were going on a road trip down memory lane. We were gonna visit all the important places we’d been together.”
“Lucky for you, I already have plane tickets for the Bahamas.”
Lu Han sits up quickly, eyes wide as he shakes his head. “No planes,” he asserts. “Nope, not on your life. Never going to happen.”
“I have sleeping pills,” Yifan offers.
Lu Han pauses, his mouth twisting as he considers it. It takes a minute, but he eventually gives in. “Alright, but I’m not sitting by the window. And you have to hold my hand because I Do Not Fly. I’ll probably cry on you. Again. Or throw up. Maybe both.”
“The warning is much appreciated.”
Lu Han doesn’t throw up on Yifan.
He does, however, turn into a jittery mess after they’re back on the ground and the sleeping pills start wearing off. They’d both taken them before take off - Lu Han for his fear of flying and Yifan for his hangover.
“It occurs to me that we still don’t know much about each other,” Lu Han says, a pair of sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose so he can give Yifan the once over.
“Well the wedding was pretty distracting,” Yifan muses aloud, smiling at Lu Han as they get into the rental car. His head doesn’t feel like it’s about to explode anymore, but his eyes still ache.
Lu Han’s eyes are puffy and he’d run his fingers through his hair a few times after waking up and declared it brushed. Neither of them look like they’re on a honeymoon, but Yifan is determined not to let it spoil the entire trip. If the woman he loves has decided she doesn’t want to be with him, then he has to let her go. It hurts like fucking hell, but there’s nothing else he can do. He’s certainly not going to beg her to come back. If he did, he’d never know if she were with him out of a sense of guilty duty or because she really wanted it.
“How old are you?” Lu Han asks, popping open the glove box to rifle curiously through the papers inside.
“Twenty-five in November.”
Lu Han clucks his tongue. “That means you’re twenty-four. We outgrow the almost ages when we start school.” Lu Han pats Yifan fondly on the thigh. “At least you’re not too young, although I’d pegged you for being older than me.”
“I’m not?” Yifan queries, eyebrows raised in surprise. Lu Han’s face is definitely one that hides his age well.
“I’m only older by less than a year, so don’t worry,” Lu Han laughs. “You’re not old enough to be my sugar daddy.”
Yifan snorts at that, the tension from such a long flight beginning to seep from him as the GPS guides them out of the confusing airport chaos and onto the open road. Yifan’s not used to seeing so much of the sky; it’s a gorgeous blue, the sun shining without so much as a cloud. The air is refreshing, even if it holds the unfamiliar scent of the ocean.
“What do you do for a living, Wu Yifan?” Lu Han continues, now inspecting the ring on his finger with his shades perched atop his head. His hair is sticking up in all directions and if Yifan wasn’t so currently self-involved, he’d call it cute.
“I’m in advertising.”
“Advertising what?” Lu Han prods, his attention now on all the knobs and buttons in the rental car. There’s always something that snags his attention and Yifan guesses it’s a coping mechanism to keep from thinking too hard.
“Mostly small time brands looking to get a foothold in the market,” he explains, eyes darting to the GPS to make sure they’re still on the right route. If there’s one thing Yifan hates about traveling, it’s getting lost. Their destination is away from the main attractions of the islands. While the casinos and water parks had been tempting, the point of their honeymoon was to spend time together without too many distractions. Yifan kinda wishes they’d gone for the resort package instead of renting a villa along a quiet stretch of the beach.
“Like?”
Yifan knows what Lu Han’s doing and he’s grateful for it even if the mundane questions are going to grow tiring real quick. “Like new children’s clothing labels or a new doll that has some feature no other doll has. Just last week there was this pitch from a client who wanted us to advertise underwear that have places to slip in butt pads so you can make your ass look better in pants.”
Lu Han makes a noise of delight when he finds the buttons for the convertible top. Yifan slows down as it rolls back and Lu Han is beaming, wrestling the strands of his unruly hair into a ponytail on the top of his head.
“Did you take the client?” Lu Han inquires, pulling down the visor to check his hair in the mirror. Yifan watches as Lu Han grimaces at his reflection and slaps the mirror shut.
“We didn’t.”
“That’s a shame. You could have used some free samples.”
“Hey!”
Lu Han cackles and Yifan finds himself feeling more light-hearted about things. At least he’s in good company.
“What about you?” Yifan asks, eyes darting to his passenger as Lu Han pulls out the manual on how to work the satellite radio.
“Starving artist,” he sighs wistfully.
When Yifan raises his eyebrows, Lu Han bursts into laughter.
“I’m a visual artist,” he explains, hands cupping his face as he tilts his head. “Sometimes I model, sometimes I do commercials. Sometimes I get naked and people paint me.”
“That sounds . . . “
Lu Han huffs a little, squirming in his seat with his nose scrunched. “We aren’t all cut out for office jobs,” he says. “I have a face that people should see.”
“And the rest of you?” Yifan teases.
“People should see that too. I have amazing thighs.”
Yifan chokes on his spit, coughing as he tries not to swerve into the other lane.
Lu Han laughs, patting Yifan high on his thigh, his hand staying there and warming Yifan through his jeans. “I played a lot of football in school,” Lu Han continues. “It does wonders for the thighs. If you’re lucky, I’ll give you the Full Experience.” Lu Han squeezes his thigh and Yifan wonders if he’s just married a mad man.
They get to the villa just in time for Yifan not to lose his mind. Lu Han’s idea to play a rousing game of basic first date questions has Yifan glad he’s not dating. Favorite color? Food? Allergies? Phobias? Favorite color to paint a room if you’re going to sleep in it? And on and on and Yifan appreciates the distraction, but the sight of his honeymoon destination is enough for Yifan to feel the pain surging forward.
It’s stunning - he can hear the waves crashing as soon as he steps out of the car and the house is surrounded by lush green plants that fade into the sand around the back. An ocean breeze cools his face and a sob wells in his throat.
Lu Han whistles low, closing the door to the car hard enough for Yifan to startle. “This is nice,” Lu Han comments. “Come on, stud. Let’s get settled in so he can go for a walk on the beach.”
Yifan does as he’s told, finding himself calming because he has Lu Han at his side. It’s amazing what the company of a stranger can do, especially when he’s going through the same thing Yifan is. It’s relatable and Yifan knows he’d fall apart if he were on his own.
Yifan had seen pictures of the rooms before he’d booked the villa, but seeing them firsthand is a different experience. What had looked cozy online is far better in person. There’s a kitchen large enough for the two of them to move around comfortably, a breakfast nook with a large window that faces the ocean, a living room with plush cream carpet that squishes between his toes, and a half bathroom with paintings of ocean scenery on the walls.
Upstairs is the master bedroom, complete with a large bed, two dressers and doors that open onto a balcony. Yifan stands outside on the balcony, his luggage on the floor by the bed as he takes in the scenery. The ocean is right there and the air helps to clear his head. He leans on the railing, slouching as he soaks it all in.
Yifan pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the view, texting it to Chanyeol.
“Don’t put that away!” Lu Han says just before Yifan can pocket his phone. “We need to remember this moment.”
Lu Han turns them away from the water, the both of them leaning back on the railing as they take a picture together, the ocean waves crashing behind them. Lu Han’s smile is infectious, two fingers thrown up by his face. He still has that ridiculous ponytail on top of his head and Yifan laughs as Lu Han then pulls out his own phone so they both have a picture.
“There,” he declares. “Our first milestone together.”
“Wasn’t getting married a milestone?” Yifan snorts.
Lu Han waves him off, already darting off to call dibs on the larger of the two dressers. Yifan isn’t fussed about it; he prefers to hang his clothing anyway.
Despite Lu Han wanting to go walking on the beach, as soon as the two of them have their stuff unpacked, luggage stowed away in the bottom of the closet, they fall onto the bed and enjoy a nap.
Yifan lays there after he wakes, making a list of things they’re going to have to get at the nearest grocery store if they’re going to eat. He watches the gentle rise and fall of Lu Han’s chest, the way his arm twitches as he sleeps, and Yifan tries not to laugh when Lu Han whimpers, his lips parting and forehead wrinkling for a moment before he still again.
As far as companions go, Lu Han is quite the breath of fresh air. Yifan can honestly say he’s never met anyone like Lu Han before. Even in college, when Yifan had been primarily dating guys, he’d never come across anyone with the confidence and surety of Lu Han. He likes it. And he also wonders what kind of person would ever want to leave Lu Han after getting to know him.
“I don’t swim in the ocean,” Lu Han deadpans.
Yifan stops in his tracks, the water up to mid-thigh as he turns around to stare at where Lu Han is standing just close enough to get his feet wet. “What?”
Lu Han is staring at the water apprehensively and Yifan thinks he might actually be serious.
“Childhood trauma,” Lu Han says, crouching to wrap his arms around his knees as the water laps around his ankles. “I lost a wrestling match with a jellyfish.”
Yifan winces and turns around, cautiously walking his way back to shore without getting knocked over by the incoming waves. He’s not dressed for swimming anyway, a pair of blue shorts slung on his hips and a white tank top over his chest to keep from burning under the sun. They’d only planned on walking in the sand.
Yifan ruffles Lu Han’s hair and Lu Han glares up at him through squinted eyes.
“Come on then,” Yifan urges, slipping his hands into his pockets. “We still have a beach to explore.”
Yifan starts walking off and he hears Lu Han fall in the sand before he’s up and jogging to catch up. “You’re not going to make fun of me?” Lu Han queries.
Yifan glances over at him, nearly laughing because Lu Han’s cheeks are puffed out. “I don’t mock people for their fears. That’s a shitty thing to do. Besides,” he adds, nudging Lu Han with his elbow, “I had an experience with a chicken once and I haven’t been able to eat chicken since.”
Lu Han loops his arm through Yifan’s and grins. “I like you, Wu Yifan,” he says. “It’s nice being married to you.”
They spend a few hours out on the beach before deciding to grab something at a local restaurant for dinner. With their bellies full, the two of them go out for groceries. Yifan spends ten minutes talking Lu Han out of buying out the small ramyun section, finally explaining to Lu Han that it’s their honeymoon and it’s alright to splurge - especially when Yifan has plenty of money set aside for it.
Lu Han leaves a kiss on Yifan’s cheek before he skips off, heading for the sweets. Yifan stands there in mild shock until someone rams their cart into his ankles from behind.
After making it back to the villa in one piece, the groceries all put away, Yifan sinks into the couch to relax. They haven’t done much, but flying always takes a lot out of him. And there’s that looming storm cloud that keeps trying to catch up with him. He sighs, pulling out his phone and deciding to facetime Chanyeol.
“Shouldn’t you be doing honeymoon things,” Chanyeol says as soon as the call connects.
“Checking in with my best friend is on that list,” Yifan chuckles.
“It’s a good thing you called. I was taking inventory of your gifts.” Chanyeol swings his phone around enough for Yifan to see the stack of presents all sitting unwrapped. The paper is shredded on the floor around them.
“You opened them?!”
“It was my duty!” Chanyeol asserts, all while pouting. “You should be thanking me. I found a scrapbook of pictures of you and -” Chanyeol pauses to make some weird hand movement and shakes his head. “Anyway, I saved you the pain of having to see that.”
Yifan’s heart lurches. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“It’s a good thing you have a friend smart enough to put your well being above his own.” Chanyeol looks smug and Yifan wrinkles his nose.
“It was Joonmyun’s idea, wasn’t it?”
Chanyeol deflates a little. “Jongin, actually.”
“Did I get anything good?”
“Well if you’re in the kitchen appliance hoarding business, yes. There’s at least four blenders here, a handful of toasters, two slow cookers, some weird looking coffee machine -”
Lu Han’s head suddenly pops in front of Yifan’s, startling both Yifan and Chanyeol. Yifan hadn’t even heard him come over. “What brand of coffee machine?”
Chanyeol gets up to inspect the box, holding it up to the phone for Lu Han to see. “Bunn?”
“Dibs!” Lu Han yells, raising his arm over his head.
“You can’t dibs Yifan’s fancy ass coffee machine,” Chanyeol huffs.
Lu Han turns on Yifan, his eyes wide and his lower lip in his teeth. He releases his lip slowly and Yifan swallows. “I’ll suck your dick for it,” Lu Han purrs.
“Deal,” Yifan croaks.
Lu Han bounces off the couch in victory, scurrying over the carpet until he nearly faceplants on his way back to where he’d been in the kitchen. Yifan is amused, endeared even, and Chanyeol makes an odd sort of noise that draws Yifan’s attention again.
“What?” Yifan questions, defensive.
Chanyeol just shakes his head. “Nothing.” He sighs and tilts his head; Yifan wishes he was there just to pet him like a puppy. “It’s good to see you smiling.”
Yifan rolls his eyes. “Goodnight, Chanyeol.”
Lu Han sings in the shower. He also uses all the hot water and isn’t the least bit repentant when Yifan lets out a shriek because the water suddenly goes cold while he’s covered in bodywash. Lu Han pops his head into the bathroom just to cackle at him and if Lu Han’s brilliant smile and rosy cheeks weren’t so disarming, Yifan would throw the sudsy loofah at him.
On second thought . . .
The loofah hits Lu Han on the back of the head as he tries and fails to shut the door in time. Yifan isn’t expecting Lu Han to barge right back inside, stripping down to nothing to squeeze himself into the shower with him. He elbows Yifan out from under the spray to rinse his hair, uncaring that the water is still growing colder by the second.
Lu Han swats Yifan on the bare ass on his way out, tossing a wink over his shoulder as Yifan stands, still in shock from the entire thing. It isn’t until later, when he’s blow drying his hair, that he realizes he missed an Opportunity. It strikes him as odd that he’s married to someone he hasn’t seen naked, but in Yifan’s defense, Lu Han’s face is very nice to look at.
Lu Han sleeps sprawled out and with his mouth open, twitching all through the night.
Lu Han is an actual zombie, groaning and grunting obnoxiously with his eyes half-closed until he gets at least a full mug of steaming hot coffee in the morning.
Lu Han wrinkles his nose at Yifan’s wardrobe before removing Yifan from the closet to find something he won’t be embarrassed to be seen next to.
Lu Han finds the joy in every little thing, including poking at Yifan’s cheeks until Yifan is blushing red and trying to find somewhere to hide.
Lu Han keeps Yifan on his toes; Yifan never knows what’s going to happen next and even if he’s bracing for it, Lu Han always manages to have Yifan sputtering with laughter and often has them running out of a store before they’re removed by security.
Lu Han makes the time fly by with his charming - when he wants to be - demeanor and his playful attitude. They spend their days together, learning the small things about each other that are pertinent to any developing relationship, romantic or not.
Lu Han hits Yifan in the face with a pillow and the two tumble off the couch in a tangle of limbs, Yifan’s face smushed in the pillow that’s lodged between them. He pulls at it and when he stares down at the man beneath him, the air leaves his lungs in a stuttered breath. Lu Han is laughing, his eyes screwed shut and his hair a staticky mess as it rubs against the carpet and Yifan is distressingly tempted to kiss him.
It’s been five days and Yifan has been swept along on a tidal wave of Lu Han the entire time. At this point, he doesn’t think he’s ever going to surface. Lu Han takes the sting away; he’s right there every time the pain gets to Yifan, squeezing into Yifan’s personal space to take it away. Yifan doesn’t know what he’s going to do when they get back to the real world.
This isn’t a real marriage. This is two men seeking each other out as a way to heal, to get through the initial burn of a lifetime with the person they love being ripped away so suddenly. It’s so selfish, but Yifan doesn’t want this to end.
He doesn’t even know what this is, but Lu Han is now staring up at Yifan with wide eyes, his tongue licking over his lips as Yifan leans down, shifting his weight onto his forearms. There’s plenty of time to stop him - Lu Han has all the control, all the leverage, but he doesn’t do more than tilt his head when Yifan presses their mouths together.
He expects Lu Han to push him away, but Lu Han threads his fingers through Yifan’s hair, licking his way into Yifan’s mouth with a low groan. It’s a jarring difference from what he’s used to, but Yifan prefers it this way. Lu Han is warm and wrapped around him, ankles now locked around Yifan’s waist as Yifan lifts them both from the floor.
They both laugh as Yifan falls back on the couch, knocking their heads together. There’s a sore spot on his forehead that Yifan rubs, Lu Han smoothing over it with his fingers as he leans in to kiss Yifan again. The couch is comfortable, and there’s enough bounce in the cushions that they could make it work, especially since Lu Han is rocking his hips impatiently in Yifan’s lap. But Yifan’s always been the sentimental type and he’s not going to fuck his husband for the first time on a couch when there’s a large bed upstairs that would be much better suited for the task.
Lu Han whines in protest, sinking his teeth into Yifan’s lower lip when Yifan gently pushes at his hips.
“I just want to move upstairs,” Yifan hisses, licking over his wounded lip.
Lu Han leans forward, mouth brushing against Yifan’s when he speaks. “You can fuck me on the stairs for all I care,” he breathes. “Just fuck me.”
Now that Lu Han knows Yifan isn’t trying to put a stop to their progress, he’s all too willing to hold on as Yifan fits his palms beneath Lu Han’s thighs - really nice, sturdy thighs - and lifts. Lu Han muffles an appreciative noise in Yifan’s neck, muttering about how he knew Yifan’s stupid large hands would feel amazing and Yifan nearly runs into the wall because he’s so distracted. It doesn’t help that Lu Han has attached his mouth to his neck, just beneath Yifan’s ear.
There’s a buzzing in Yifan’s head and his heart is thundering in his chest, anticipation singing through his veins as he rushes - but not too fast - up the stairs and to the bedroom. The blankets are still kicked to the bottom from when they’d woken up and never bothered to make the bed. Yifan just crawls over them, finally pushing Lu Han into the mattress and kissing him again.
Lu Han’s hands immediately slide beneath Yifan’s loose shirt to roam over Yifan’s stomach and chest. He tweaks Yifan’s nipples teasingly and Yifan’s hips rock forward, a moan slipping from him as Lu Han does it again.
“You’re so soft,” Lu Han groans when he runs Yifan’s shirt up to where it hooks on his arms. “I love it.” Lu Han pinches lightly at Yifan’s sides and ordinarily it would leave Yifan feeling self conscious, but he’s soaking up the attention greedily. Lu Han pushes until Yifan is rolled onto his back and Lu Han is the one between Yifan’s legs now.
He looks a little silly, but mostly just hot; his hair is a complete mess, but his cheeks are tinged with pink and his lips are wet, his eyes dark as they rake down Yifan’s bare chest. Lu Han only stares for a moment before he’s leaning down, mouth suctioning over one of Yifan’s nipples. Yifan hisses, lifting into it as the shock races down to his half-hard cock.
Lu Han keeps moving, trailing kisses and bites across Yifan’s chest and to his stomach, grinning up at Yifan as he nips at the soft skin on his belly. It shouldn’t be hot, but fuck if Yifan doesn’t find it hot enough to have him impatiently trying to get his pants off. Lu Han is in the way, but he helps, fingers hooked in the side of Yifan’s slacks to peel them down over his hips along with his boxer briefs.
Lu Han sits up, his eyes fixated on Yifan’s cock as he rushes to get his own clothes off. Yifan sits, hands on Lu Han’s waist to steady him, trapping Lu Han momentarily with his shirt over his head, licking over Lu Han’s lips as Lu Han squirms.
“Asshole,” Lu Han whispers, but he presses forward, arms around Yifan’s neck as he gets more comfortable.
Yifan has the pleasure of feeling Lu Han’s bare thighs against his, squeezing as he rocks in Yifan’s lap. He lets his hands roam over them, gripping the muscle and letting his fingers sweep up the insides until Lu Han is jerking back because Yifan is being a tease.
“Lube,” Yifan manages to say, breathing hard and not wanting to give up his hold on Lu Han. Reluctantly, Yifan releases Lu Han, sighing wistfully at the sight of Lu Han’s bare ass when he walks over to his dresser. He crouches, nearly giving Yifan a heart attack and Yifan has the sudden urge to bury his face in Lu Han’s gorgeous thighs and live out the rest of his days in a state of euphoria.
Lu Han looks like he knows exactly what Yifan’s thinking when he turns around, bottle of lube and condoms in his hand. His face is entirely too smug as he crawls back over Yifan’s lap, letting Yifan get a good look at his thighs flexing again. Lu Han is on his knees and Yifan runs his hands up the backs of his thighs reverently.
Lu Han gives a soft moan of appreciation at the way Yifan digs his fingers into the fleshiest part. “You just have fun with those,” Lu Han breathes, “while I get ready for you.”
Yifan does have fun with them, dipping low enough to get his mouth on Lu Han’s left thigh. He sucks a dark mark high on the smooth skin, enjoying the soft panting above him as Lu Han stretches himself open. Yifan slowly moves up, scraping his teeth to the side of Lu Han’s cock. Lu Han rotates his hips enough for his cock to slap against Yifan’s cheek.
“Fuck you,” Lu Han gurgles, voice cracking as Yifan turns his head to suck the tip of Lu Han’s cock into his mouth.
Lu Han tips forward, a hand on Yifan’s shoulder to keep himself up. His knees slide apart a little and Yifan tightens his grip on Lu Han’s thighs to hold him in place. Yifan hums as he swallows down the taste of precome, enjoying the way Lu Han trembles, gasping when Yifan does it again.
Yifan pulls off Lu Han’s cock with a pop, eyes narrowed at Lu Han who has just seen fit to hit him in the face with the condom this time. “I can’t do all the work,” Lu Han informs him with a teasing smile.
The condom is barely rolled down when Lu Han pinches the tip, stroking over the shaft with the lube left on his fingers. A flame ignites beneath Yifan’s skin as Lu Han lowers himself, letting the crown of Yifan’s cock rub over his rim before slowly taking it in. Lu Han sinks down as his thighs slide apart, Yifan holding tight to his waist as he tries not to thrust upward and into the tight heat of Lu Han’s ass.
“Oh,” Lu Han breathes with a shiver. “That’s nice.”
He wiggles his hips, clenching around Yifan’s cock. Yifan thinks Lu Han is trying to kill him, possibly coax his soul out through his dick. And he’s not opposed to it as long as Lu Han moves. Lu Han seems quite cozy where he is, though, and Yifan gently tips Lu Han’s face toward his for a kiss.
They’re mid-kiss, Yifan’s tongue in Lu Han’s mouth, when Lu Han finally lifts off his cock and drops back down. Yifan nearly bites his own tongue, groaning at the friction that drags along his cock. Lu Han’s breath hitches, exhaling out a moan when he does it again. Yifan fits his palms over Lu Han’s hips, helping him move faster.
Lu Han uses the power in his thighs to bounce on Yifan’s cock, his mouth dropped open and eyes dark when they’re not squeezed shut. He’s also very vocal about letting Yifan know how good he feels. And Yifan has to agree - it feels wonderful. He rocks up into Lu Han the best he can, but with his legs crossed, he doesn’t have much leverage and Lu Han really is doing all the work.
There’s a thin sheen of sweat that covers Lu Han’s face and chest, the ends of his hair beginning to curl. Yifan bumps his nose against Lu Han’s chin and Lu Han peers down at him, slowing until he’s rocking on Yifan’s dick languidly.
“Mind if I take over?” Yifan asks, licking over his dry lips.
“Please,” Lu Han groans, clenching tight around him.
Yifan manages to get his arm around Lu Han’s waist, hefting his weight and dropping him back on the bed. His cock nearly slips out of Lu Han’s ass, but Lu Han locks his legs tighter and pulls him back in. Yifan would have laughed if it didn’t feel so amazing. Yifan runs his hands up Lu Han’s spread thighs, palm on the back of one to push it upward.
Yifan holds Lu Han’s leg to his chest and fucks into Lu Han, all while enjoying the stunning view of his cock sinking into Lu Han’s ass. Lu Han lifts his hips into it, head tipped back and fingers locked around the bars on the fancy headboard. Yifan takes a moment to appreciate the smooth, slick glide and how gorgeous Lu Han looks with his back arched and cock leaking against his stomach.
Lu Han makes a noise of protest and Yifan begins to fuck him in earnest, his grip on Lu Han’s thigh tight enough to bruise. “Fuck,” Lu Han curses. “Your dick totally makes up for your flat ass.”
Yifan slams into him harder and he’s satisfied when he hears Lu Han’s teeth clack together.
“Just wait til I get you ass up,” Lu Han threatens weakly.
Yifan likes the sound of that; the idea of being able to let go, of giving up the control has him leaning forward, pushing harder and thrusting faster. He fucks Lu Han to the sound of their skin slapping together and their moans echoing in the spacious room. Lu Han clamps around him. Yifan reaches down and drags his palm up the length of Lu Han’s cock.
It only takes him doing it one more time for Lu Han to come. His body locks around Yifan, his voice stolen as he spills white over his stomach and Yifan’s fingers. It’s too much for Yifan whose hips stutter, the pressure mounting fast just before his orgasm slams into him. He fills the condom, his movements slowing as he heaves in gulps of air.
He’s gentle when he lifts, helping pull Lu Han’s leg straight again. Lu Han grunts, wincing. “I should have stretched first,” he half laughs, nudging his knee against Yifan’s side.
Yifan falls over Lu Han, keeping his weight on his knees and forearms because it’s too hot for cuddling. Next time, he’s opening the balcony doors first.
He catches his breath, nuzzling against Lu Han’s face for a moment before he gingerly pulls out of Lu Han, catching the condom before it makes a mess. Yifan ties it up and tosses it in the bathroom trash on his way to get a towel for Lu Han.
Lu Han wipes himself down, then pulls Yifan onto the bed, mumbling about a nap and then finding lunch. Yifan allows himself to be tucked in Lu Han’s arms, his back against Lu Han’s chest.
“I like you, Wu Yifan,” Lu Han sighs against the back of Yifan’s neck.
Lu Han is asleep by the time Yifan musters the courage to say, “I like you, too, Lu Han.”
The final morning of their honeymoon sees Yifan bent over most of the surfaces in the kitchen, gasping and trying to find purchase on the marble as Lu Han fills him up over and over again. And that’s just breakfast.
They go out to enjoy the beach, safely away from the water, and Lu Han’s genius idea of trying to have sex in the sand is thwarted by, well, the sand. “I told you,” Yifan complains, shimmying out of his shorts only to see grains of sand falling to the floor with them.
Lu Han thinks a great way to make it up to Yifan is to kiss him until he shuts up, his tongue soothing the irritation from Yifan as he turns into a puddle that’s easily herded toward the bed. It’s been a long time since Yifan’s made out with someone without the intention of having sex, but it’s nice. He’d forgotten how nice it can be. Making out with Lu Han might just make it onto his top ten list of nice things Yifan wants to do all the time.
Chanyeol calls in the afternoon to confirm their plans; he’s going to be meeting Yifan at his apartment after he gets home. Lu Han is in the other room, speaking softly into his phone with Minseok and Yifan watches the way his mouth pulls down and his hand ruffles through his hair in agitation. His shoulders are slumped and Yifan absentmindedly hangs up on Chanyeol to go over and comfort him.
Chanyeol sends Yifan a slew of angry emojis that Lu Han finds amusing.
Yifan takes Lu Han to a nice restaurant for their last dinner on the island. It’s a subdued affair. They drink and they eat and they make small talk. Neither of them brings up the next day. They’re both getting on a flight in the morning to go back to lives that had been ripped from them. Yifan is conflicted. He doesn’t want for them to go their separate ways once it’s over. He wants . . .
He’s not sure what he wants.
Lu Han is quiet when they get back to the villa, pulling out what he’s going to wear the next day and packing everything else back in his bag. Yifan follows his example, taking his time because he’s tired, his belly is full and his anxiety is flaring up. Being here, in this idyllic place with Lu Han, Yifan has been able to put off the inevitable. Reality was always going to be there, waiting, and Yifan dreads it.
Despite the hesitation, the pair of them go to bed early. This time, it’s Yifan who curls against Lu Han’s back, holding him close as they fall asleep. He thinks Lu Han is crying, and Yifan pushes his face to the back of Lu Han’s neck until they both finally fall asleep.
Lu Han kisses Yifan before they leave in the morning, patting his cheek lightly as Yifan pulls the door closed with a final click.
The city is a far cry from the peace and open space on the island, and yet there’s a comforting familiarity to it all. People here are always in such a rush and Yifan watches them pass by, Lu Han at his side as they weave through the crowds and out to the parking garage.
Yifan had decided, after Lu Han told him that Minseok was going to pick him up from the airport later, that it would be better for Lu Han to just come with him. Minseok can pick him up there. He wasn’t about to leave Lu Han alone, especially in an airport. Lu Han hadn’t put up much of a fight before texting Yifan’s address to Minseok.
It’s odd, having Lu Han in a space that Yifan calls home. They’re taking the elevator up to his apartment and Lu Han is still at his side, still real. Yifan knows Lu Han is real, but his head is trying to reconcile the time they had spent together on their honeymoon with the reality of his everyday life.
Lu Han toes off his shoes at the door, looking around at the place as Yifan shuts and locks the door behind him.
She’s been here.
It’s obvious that she’s come and gone; there are folded boxes propped on the side of the couch, books and pictures missing from shelves, dishes gone from the cabinets. And that’s just what Yifan can see from his place in the living room. If he goes down the hall to his bedroom, he knows that her closet will be empty, the bathroom sparse, and he doesn’t think he can handle that right now.
So he doesn’t.
Yifan puts down the luggage, walks into the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator and cracks it open. He takes a long pull before offering one to Lu Han. They have an hour to kill before Minseok shows up and Yifan doesn’t like the thoughts beginning to float around in his head.
“You want to cry on my shoulder?” Lu Han offers.
Yifan laughs. “No,” he answers honestly. “I’ll be alright.”
And he will be. He knows that now. She might have been a big part of his life for the past four years, but it was just that. Four years. He was fine before she came into his life and he’ll be fine with her gone.
Yifan’s been alive for over twenty-four and a half years.
That’s eight thousand nine hundred seventy-eight days.
He’s had good days and bad days. He’s had days that blend together and days that stand apart from the rest to fill his memories. Not every day is going to be great, but not every day is going to suck either. All he can do is take it one day at a time. The coming days aren’t going to be good; it’s going to take a lot out of him to keep going, but he will keep going.
Lu Han will be fine too. Yifan watches the way Minseok fusses over Lu Han when he shows up, thanking Yifan profusely for everything before they leave. Lu Han promises they’ll keep in touch and his number is now in Yifan’s phone under husband.
Now all Yifan needs to do is finish today so he can work on tomorrow.
Two Months Later
Yifan’s phone is wedged between his ear and his shoulder, dangerously close to slipping out and clattering to the floor. His hands are full of sketches for a new client and he’s trying to organize the chaos into the right files before his meeting.
“So, I’ll be in town next week,” Lu Han tells him.
Yifan pauses, several sheets falling from his grasp as he stands up straight. “Oh?”
Lu Han hums. “Some art guy wants to make a mold of my face,” he replies. “But I thought maybe we could get together. I can buy you dinner.”
A butterfly takes flight in Yifan’s stomach, his heart stuttering over the next several beats. “I’d like that. How long are you going to stay?”
“That depends,” Lu Han answers, drawing out his words. “How long do you want me to stay?”
“As long as you want.”