the last straw in the restaurant, but i don't mind sharing (ii)
BACK
-
Kris does not go away; actually, with the advent of Kris’ confirmed crush on Yixing, it feels like Lu Han cannot stop seeing him everywhere. Before, it seemed understandable to find Kris hovering over Yixing’s shoulder when Lu Han meets Yixing for a quick slice at the pizzeria down by 12th St or a latte at Starbucks since Kris and Yixing both go to Steinhardt anyway-and maybe Lu Han’s just being exceptionally paranoid now-but now, it feels like even when Kris doesn’t have any classes or viable excuses to be near Yixing, he’s still there. Hanging around like some awkward spectre of badly hidden pining.
Take Thursday afternoons, for example. Thursday afternoons are when both Yixing and Lu Han are free long enough from their respective schedules to spend the time to unwind from their piling workloads and thankless job hours. They alternate between meeting at the Barnes & Nobles in Union Square or at the Malay restaurant in Chinatown for a late lunch and a couple hours of quiet chatting, but this time is specifically allocated for them and them alone. All their friends know not to join them Thursdays after the first few times of Lu Han nearly biting their heads off for intruding and Yixing quietly frowning at them.
Today, Yixing chooses to meet at the bookstore, and so Lu Han walks into the cafe area, a stack of manga already picked out and ready to read, casually expecting to find Yixing hunched over the latest issue of that weird guitar fanatics club magazine, and stops short of the table Yixing’s currently sitting at. Kris is here.
Kris is here.
A middle-aged woman pushes by Lu Han, throwing him a dirty look for blocking off the exitway of the cafe pen, and Lu Han hurriedly goes to the table, ears burning a little, and reeling. He dumps the manga onto the table counter and gives Yixing a quick greeting and Kris a look of acknowledgement, and heads for the line behind the cafe counter to readjust. He ignores the confused look Yixing gives him as he passes by, but Lu Han does note very carefully the stricken look of guilt on Kris’ face because good. At least someone understands.
While waiting in line, Lu Han talks himself down from the pulsing headache he feels forming at the base of his skull. Kris is well within his rights to do whatever he wants, and if this is how he chooses to express his affections, then Lu Han’s not going to be the bad guy and chase him away. He’s just eager in love, Lu Han reasons with himself, it’s okay.
He gets a panini and a venti caramel macchiato to share between him and Yixing, and turns away from the cashier counter with his tray in hand and placid smile in place. This is going to be like any other hangout; he’ll take Kris aside afterwards and give him a talk, and it won’t happen again. It’ll be fine. He catches Kris’ eye as he walks back, and he smiles benevolently at the intruder, feeling a deep pit of satisfaction when Kris still minisculely shrinks back.
“So, Kris, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today. What an unexpected surprise,” Lu Han says sweetly, setting down his tray and pulling out the empty chair right in between Yixing and Kris to sit down in. Kris coughs and shifts his chair away to make room for Lu Han.
“I found him wandering through the lower levels of Kimmel again, so I thought he could join us and not look like a sad giant haunting the halls of our university,” Yixing offers with a hesitant smile. Lu Han’s face freezes for a second before his smile snaps back into place, but it’s less stiff and more sincere when he looks at Yixing.
“A good thing you saved him from that fate, then,” he says lightly, and both Yixing and Kris visibly relax, assured by the lack of vehement rejection from Lu Han. He grits his teeth, grinding his molars a little, when Kris turns to Yixing in askance for unspoken approval, but smooths out his mouth with his palm as he plucks the coffee cup from his tray and places it in front of Yixing. He creases his eyes when Yixing dimples at him in thanks, and picks up a sandwich half and the top manga of his stack to start reading, choosing to ignore Kris’ presence completely.
They sit in silence for a while, usual routine thrown off-kilter with Kris’ added company, but Lu Han manages to absorb himself into his manga to make up for the lack of conversation. He’s just flipping the page over to find out whether Kiri manages to find the stolen pair of golden scissors when Yixing nudges him gently under the table with a foot.
“Hey, we still on for basketball tomorrow? After lunch?” he reminds, not really expecting an answer. Lu Han’s about to hum noncommittally when a thought in the back of his mind pops back up.
“Wait, oh shit.” He sits up, putting down the book. “I can’t, I forgot to tell you yesterday. I have a TA meeting with one of the students at two, shit. Can we reschedule?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. No worries,” Yixing waves off, patting Lu Han reassuringly on the shoulder. “It’s not like I don’t already see you twenty-four seven; it’ll be a nice change from your ugly mug.”
Lu Han sticks his tongue out in response, ever the mature one, but he slumps back into his seat, less guilty now. Kris looks back and forth at the two of them, and hesitantly brings up a hand, drawing back their attention.
“If you need another person to play with, I’m free tomorrow,” he says slowly, eyes flicking from Lu Han to Yixing. “I can sub in for Lu Han if you don’t mind?”
Yixing looks thoughtful, but Lu Han just wants to throw a brick at Kris’ head and yell at him to leave. He reins in the violent thought, though, and holds back the frown that had popped out immediately at Kris’ offer, choosing instead to make a neutral sound and look away.
“Well, I’m always open to play with people who aren’t Lu Han,” Yixing replies, eyes twinkling, and leaning in over the table. “He’s such an awful sore everything. Can’t take him anywhere, to be honest, he’s worse than a five-year-old.” Kris laughs, bolstered by Yixing’s receptiveness, and Lu Han makes an affronted noise, faded into the background as Yixing and Kris make plans for tomorrow.
“Fine, I’ll just sit here by myself while you guys have fun and exclude me from your little fun club,” Lu Han says petulantly, half-joking. His friends laugh expectedly at him, but that other half of Lu Han is still genuinely irritated and stews for the remainder of the day, long after they part ways and Yixing and Lu Han go back home.
-
Kris swoops in at the last minute two other times after, when Lu Han can’t make the movie he and Yixing had planned on seeing, and when his linguistics club runs overtime and he can’t walk back home with Yixing from Steinhardt. And Lu Han’s pretty sure he’s just being a bit of a drama queen over it all because Yixing has no problems with the increased Kris exposure, but it just keeps needling at him, bit by bit.
He’s late again to dinner with Yixing today, held up by the ever dependable R train’s inability to move through Manhattan without some sort of accident occurring. So his mood’s already a little fouler than usual, but he’s hoping that dinner out with Yixing will mellow him out by the end of the night.
He unlocks the door, distracted by a sudden snapchat from Minseok, so the door slams open a little harder than he’d intended against the wall. Lu Han looks up with a wince, mouthing an apology to the inanimate door, but the sudden flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye drags away his attention. His jaw drops.
“You’re home,” says Yixing on the couch, blinking owlishly at him. Kris, sitting thigh-to-thigh next him, waves awkwardly, trying to readjust his shirt without being obvious about it. Lu Han squeezes his eyes shut and presses the hand with his phone against his forehead.
“Tell me I did not just see what I thought I just saw,” he begs, a touch desperate. Kris coughs and stands up from the couch.
“Well, uh, I think I’m going to…” He looks imploringly at Yixing who just shrugs, wiping off the corners of his lips. “I think I’ll just go. Uh, see you again some other time, Lu Han?”
Lu Han snatches out his free hand and grabs onto Kris’ mushed collar before he can abscond. “I don’t think so, buddy.”
Yixing snorts from his place on the couch, leisurely pulling back down his sweater from where it had been hiked up, and stands up to drag Kris back into the living room and relative safety.
“....Kris, man? Really?” Lu Han asks, pained and half-hoping for Yixing to shake his head and shout ‘Just kidding!’ like it’s been a three-month-long joke. Yixing nods, though, a touch ruefully and curls his hand around one of Kris’ limp biceps.
“I was gonna tell you today, actually, if you had managed to come home on time,” he offers in consolation. “But you were late, so I thought you’d take a little longer to get back.”
“The N/R trains were being a bitch again,” Lu Han says tiredly, rubbing at his temples. He peeks out through his hands at a discomfited Kris and sighs. “I take it this wasn’t just a one-sided pining thing?”
Kris starts and blushes maroon. “No, uh, I only asked him out recently, actually. He didn’t even realize until I brought it up.” He looks down at the ground and mumbles the next part. “And I wasn’t pining.”
Yixing exchanges pitying looks with Lu Han, and Lu Han snorts, amused. “This is the guy you’ve chosen to touch dicks with?”
“Well, I haven’t actually gotten to that quite yet, but if you wanna come back a little later….” Yixing says teasingly, and laughs when Lu Han’s face contorts. “No, but yes, he is.” He stares intently at Lu Han, dropping the joking tone for a moment. “Are you okay with this?”
“Yixing, you could be fucking a llama for all I care, and I would be okay with it.” They both grimace at the image, and Lu Han hastily backtracks. “Okay, okay, that’s a terrible example, let’s pretend I never said that. But you get my point.” He manages a smile at Kris, who’s watching them both warily, and even means it.
“You take good care of my baby, or I’ll rip your dick off, capiche?”
Kris nods soberly, ignoring the gagging expression on Yixing’s face. “Of course. I’ll treat him like the perfect princess that he is.” Lu Han snorts, then laughs aloud at the offended scoff Yixing lets out.
“I’m gonna smack you both.”
-
The annoyance doesn’t go away. Lu Han would’ve thought that since Yixing and Kris are now dating, he would be okay with everything now because he has to be. Kris is a great guy, all things considered, and Yixing deserves someone who really likes him a lot-which Kris does, a lot. Granted, he would’ve been happier if Yixing had rejected the poor goof and returned them all to normalcy, but Yixing’s happiness matters more. But Lu Han just can’t seem to get rid of this low-grade irritability that comes along in waves every time he sees Kris’ face now or hears Yixing talk about him; it sucks a lot too since Kris is still one of Lu Han’s friends and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his college career having to fight back the urge to punch in Kris’ face.
There’s no time for deeper exploration of his feelings, though. Right on the heels of Yixing’s new relationship with Kris comes the dreaded final exam period before fall semester finally ends and lets its prisoners go home for winter break. Lu Han spends most of his reading period alternating between Bobst and the linguistics department and taking steady double-shots of espresso to keep himself awake. The day before exams begin, he puts all his books away and heads over to Jongdae’s dorm room because Jongdae’s been spamming him with texts about his third playthrough of Persona 4 all week, and Lu Han needs a break.
Jongdae’s suitemate, Tao, lets him in with a tired grin and a vague wave in the direction of Jongdae’s closed room, and Lu Han slips in with a murmured thanks. He opens the door to Jongdae’s room, calling out a greeting, and finds Jongdae hunched on the ground two feet from his television screen, intently moving his joystick around. The screen shows the main group of characters running through the steamy halls of Kanji’s bathhouse, and Lu Han makes a noise before closing the door after him and sliding down next to Jongdae.
“What floor is this?” he asks curiously, watching Jongdae engage in a Shadow battle with a Pursuing Pesce.
“Fifth floor. I’m grinding right now,” Jongdae mumbles, fingers flying through his buttons. “How’s studying?”
Lu Han groans and thumps his head back against the mattress behind them. “I feel like I can probably puke out the entire IPA in formant levels by now. And probably perform surgery on your throat with how grossly acquainted I am now with the vocal tract.” He looks back up at the screen and then at Jongdae’s controller consideringly.
“Hm, that’s good, at least-whoa, hey! What are you-hey, get off-Lu Han, oh my fucking-get off me!”
Lu Han emerges from his impromptu scuffle victorious, with Jongdae’s controller in his possession and Jongdae himself as his newfound butt pillow. “There we go, now life’s all fair and better. You just sit there and let me play for a little while, okay, rest your poor eyes.”
Jongdae wriggles underneath him and wails obnoxiously loud when Lu Han won’t budge. “Oh come on, Lu Han, get off me, you’re a fucking hippo on my delicate bone structure! And give me back my game, I’m trying to play the perfect playthrough right now!”
“Relax, man, I got this,” Lu Han assures him, patronizingly patting his butt. Jongdae huffs out indignantly but settles down, letting Lu Han play through without disturbance.
“So….,” Jongdae says, muffled by the carpet under his chin. Lu Han hums to show his attention, casually navigating the main character into a room with a treasure chest. He neatly avoids the Shadow blob swinging for him and opens up the chest quickly, pocketing a Peach Seed, and swerves his joystick around to sidestep the accelerating Shadow.
“So?” Lu Han prompts when Jongdae trails off without more to say, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
“How goes on the Kris front? Has Yixing finally told him to step off yet? Can I swoop in and comfort his broken heart and make him fall in love with my dashing good looks and heart of gold yet?” Jongdae asks brightly after a beat. His body’s tense, though, under Lu Han’s weight, belying the nonchalance coloring his voice. Lu Han spares a moment from the screen to glance down at him.
“How invested are you in this twelve-step plan of yours?” Lu Han asks slowly, a slow crawl of unease going up his spine. He feels Jongdae shift his shoulder blade up in a shrug. “Like do you just wanna get into his pants for fun, or y’know, do you wanna like date him?”
“...I mean, my twelve-step only ends with senpai falling madly in love with me and my giant dick, but I don’t mind holding hands with him or anything,” Jongdae hedges, mumbling at the end.
Lu Han presses the wrong button and ends up getting slammed by the pair of Dancing Hands that creeped up on him. He stares unseeing at the screen as the Shadows attack Yukiko and Chie in succession, quietly dying inside his mind, and tries to think of a way to break the news to Jongdae gently.
“I’m taking it the silence means bad things for me,” Jongdae says wryly, twisting his back over so that he can face Lu Han. Lu Han doesn’t hide the instinctive wince fast enough, and Jongdae sighs dramatically, flopping himself back against the carpet floor. “Give it to me straight, doc. Am I gonna live through the night?”
“Depends, I guess. They’re, uh, going out, actually,” Lu Han says carefully, pausing the game to gauge his friend’s reaction. Jongdae is quiet for a minute before snorting and slumping back onto the ground.
“Damnit. I got Hanazawa Rui-ed, ugh. Don’t look at me right now, Lu Han, my shame’s too great for human eyes,” he whines into the carpet. Lu Han barks out a laugh and gets off of Jongdae to sprawl on the ground next to him.
“Does that make Yixing Domyouji because, I mean, he’s got the curls to match but definitely not the personality,” Lu Han teases. He rubs Jongdae’s back sympathetically as Jongdae whines again, muffled by the carpet fibers.
“Well, he’s the main villain in my love story right now, okay, so he can just deal,” Jongdae grumbles, shifting his face so Lu Han can see the pout on his face.
“Actually, you feel more like an Ando than a Rui to me,” Lu Han says thoughtfully, tapping his chin. Jongdae scoffs and rolls over onto his back. “You do! And I mean, it’s a lot more palatable to think of Kris as an overeager Ninako than a plucky Makino.” He pauses. “Okay, well, the thought of Kris as the shoujo heroine in your story right now is actually as appealing as peeling toenails, but if I had to choose, y’know.”
“Then what does that make you, huh?” Jongdae asks, side-eying him. “Because you’re definitely second lead male material; you’re Kris’ rival in love, after all.”
Lu Han sputters and sits up in incredulity. “What do you mean, rival in love? And excuse you, I am obviously main male lead; have you seen this face?”
Jongdae snorts and pats his thigh patronizingly. “Sure you are, Fuwa Shou. Sure you are.” Lu Han sputters again, but lets Jongdae pull him back down. “Now back to me and my tragic love story, okay. I don’t have time to deal with your Tamaki-grade obliviousness right now.”
Lu Han mouths the words ‘Tamaki-grade obliviousness’ in disbelief, but puts it out of mind when Jongdae starts whining again.
His annoyance flares back up later that night when he gets home and finds Yixing cuddling into Kris’ arms in front of the television. Yixing greets him cheerfully and asks him to join them at the couch to watch the movie Kris had rented, but Lu Han begs off with a smile and heads into his room with a parting ‘good night’. He stares at his bed for a minute before collapsing on it, too lazy to change into pajamas, and closes his eyes.
Just before he drifts off to sleep, Jongdae’s words swim back into the front of his mind. His eyes snap back open, the same time Yixing’s and Kris’ laugh filter through the walls of his room.
Second lead male, indeed.
-
There’s a tickling in his throat. Lu Han doesn’t want to say it-or even think it-aloud because he does not have the time for this, but the tickle won’t go away. He coughs lightly, tries to edge his glottis away, but the tickle takes the chance to morph into a full frog, and he ends up choking and hacking ungracefully onto his printouts and having to shadily wipe the mess away with a sleeve.
He begs off work early that morning, apparently looking pitiful enough in his bundle of scarves and miserable expression to touch the stone heart of his professor, and walks back home because he was stupid enough to leave the house without his metrocard and wallet today. Might as well get the full package deal, Lu Han thinks to himself, shivering in his five layers of sweaters and jackets. The wind is particularly strong today, and blows heavily down on his uncovered head, quickly turning the tips of his ears into flesh icicles. He tries to walk a brisker pace, but his legs refuse to cooperate with every further step he takes.
He reaches their apartment in another thirty minutes, huffing for breath and almost shaking out of his skin in the cold air. He clambers up the flights of stairs with difficulty, already winded by the walk home; his New Year’s resolution should’ve been to work out at the gym more, not his usual bullshit crock about being a better person for the new year.
It takes Lu Han three tries to get the key into the lock right, with his fingers so unbearably stiff and dead, but he finally gets in and has to take a moment to revel in the moderately warmer temperature of the building compare to the tundras outside. He kicks off his shoes and drops his backpack right next to his boots, and flings himself onto the couch for a quick nap, not even bothering to take off any of his layers or going into his room to sleep.
He wakes up to a considerably darker room, with the only light coming from the watery glow of the kitchen bulbs, and at least twenty degrees warmer than he had gone to bed feeling. He blinks and sits up, feeling the extra weight on his chest slip down into his lap. It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the little light, but Lu Han recognizes the material as the throw blanket Yixing kept in his room for colder nights. He smacks his lips, feeling the slimy feeling of accumulated sickness in the back of his throat, and grimaces.
“You’re up,” says Yixing softly, walking over to the couch while drying his hands with a hand-towel. Lu Han looks up at him blearily, eyes watering a little. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I just got ran over a dozen times by a vindictive tow-truck,” he croaks. His head throbs with each word he voices. “I think I’m sick.”
“Nothing gets past you, huh,” Yixing jokes, but rounds the couch to sit at the couch arm and feel Lu Han’s forehead. “You’re burning up, though.”
Lu Han groans and falls back down onto the couch. He immediately regrets the decision when the sudden movement triggers a wave of intense dizziness. “Goddamnit, how is it always me who gets sick? What kind of immune system do you have?”
“The luck of the draw, I guess.” Yixing helps him back up into a sitting position and rearranges the blanket, tucking it around him. “Here, I’m gonna get you some water and then I’ll help you back to your room, okay?” He goes back into the kitchen to pour a cup of water and comes back.
“I’m not an invalid, Xing, don’t treat me like a baby,” Lu Han says petulantly, but lets Yixing press the mug into his hands. He takes a sip to clear his throat, and then a bigger gulp.
“I started some zhou, if you’re feeling hungry. It’ll be done in another few minutes,” Yixing says, watching Lu Han slowly drain his cup. He laughs at the grimace Lu Han gives him and ruffles his hair softly. “I know you hate it, but it’s good for you, okay. Don’t be the gigantic baby that you clearly are.” He takes the mug away when Lu Han’s finished. “I put pork in it, just like how you like it, if that’s any incentive.”
“If I didn’t think I’d collapse from moving, I would push you off this couch right now,” Lu Han grumbles. He snuffles and rubs at his throat. “Do we have any tylenol in the house? I feel like my head’s gonna fall off.”
“...Ah. No, I think we ran out.” Yixing frowns. “Okay, here, I’ll help you back to your room and then go out for it, sound good? You can take another nap while you wait.”
Lu Han grunts and pushes himself off the couch, but almost falls back down immediately before Yixing catches him. “Ugh, fine, okay.” Yixing throws an arm around him and nudges Lu Han to lean back into him as he starts leading them back to Lu Han’s room.
“Here we go, nice soft bed for you to sleep on. Ah, wait,” Yixing stops Lu Han from flopping straight onto the mattress. “Let’s get you out of these layers first.”
“Why, Yixing, how forward of you,” Lu Han jokes, snickering when Yixing rolls his eyes and swats him. “I mean, taking advantage of a vulnerable boy like me and everything. If you wanted to get into my bed, you didn’t have to pretend to take care of me, baby, my bed’s always open for you.”
“I’m gonna muzzle you,” Yixing deadpans, carefully slipping off the thick down jacket and hoodie from Lu Han’s arms. He steadies Lu Han when he staggers back, and pulls off the wool sweater from his body, taking care to not mush Lu Han’s hair too much when pulling it off his head. “Besides, my bed’s much more comfortable than your rock mattress.”
“Don’t diss my comfy haven, I’m a sick man, I’m too weak to fight you,” Lu Han says, swaying a little on the spot, holding out his index finger in warning. Yixing huffs out a laugh and pushes him down onto the bed, tucking his body under the sheets.
“Okay, little baby, sleep tight. I’ll be back with your happy pills in a bit, okay,” Yixing says, after he’s done tucking the blankets around Lu Han. He turns to leave, but Lu Han manages to catch him by the sleeve before he’s gone too far.
“Hey, don’t forget to turn off the stove, okay. Please don’t let me die in this burning building because you forgot again, I’ll haunt your ass until eternity, okay,” Lu Han says seriously. Yixing blinks as the realization dawns on him and smiles sheepishly.
“Whoops. Yeah, I’ll get that before I leave. Okay, go to sleep now,” he says, patting Lu Han’s hand. Lu Han coughs, but keeps his grip on Yixing. “What? Do you need anything else?”
“No-ugh, god, I hate being sick-uh, no, I just. Thanks,” Lu Han says after his chest stops spasming, looking up at Yixing with a rueful grin. “Thanks a lot.” He pretends to cough again and pushes Yixing away. “Okay, go away, I need my beauty sleep.”
-
Lu Han wakes up to a gentle shaking, feeling ten times crappier than when he’d gone to bed, and scrunches open his eyes. He makes out the blurry double-image of Yixing’s face hovering above his, and blinks to refocus.
“Hey, sorry to wake you up,” Yixing whispers. Lu Han thinks he garbles something back, but he’s not quite sure. “I just wanted you to take your pills before you sleep through the night. How are you feeling, by the way?”
“I want to die,” he manages to mumble through uncooperative lips. Yixing lets out a quiet laugh and helps him upright. “Noooo, don’t move me, it was much better down, let me down.”
“After your pills, okay,” Yixing assures, holding up a cold cup to his lips. “Drink a sip first before you take your pills.” He waits for Lu Han to follow his instructions and then presses a pill to his lips.
Lu Han opens his mouth without protest and swallows down the pill with another gulp of water from the cup Yixing brings back. “Am I dead yet?”
“Not if I can help it. Okay, you can lie back down now,” Yixing snorts, slowly laying Lu Han back into a prone position. A beeping noise suddenly filters in the air, and Lu Han looks wearily at Yixing, vision half covered by his pillow.
“That your phone?” he asks, quickly slipping back into sleep. Yixing makes an affirmative noise, but doesn’t make any moves to take it out. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“Not right now,” Yixing smiles, pulling his sheets back up around his chin. “Go back to sleep.”
Lu Han falls back asleep before he hears the last sentence.
-
The end of January creeps up without any more mishaps. Lu Han bounces back after a week of being bedridden without falling too far behind on classes with Minseok kindly bringing him class notes and Yixing playing the go-between for him and his professors.
He doesn’t actually register the coming date of Lunar New Year, even as the store vendors bring out the red banners and myriad of decorations for the new year, until Yixing points it out one night while watching TV.
They go to the firecracker ceremony on Friday because miraculously, Lu Han’s phonology professor decides to be culturally aware and give them the day off for the Lunar New Year, even though only ten people in their forty-person class are Asian. (The trade-off is a 50-page reading on another one of their professor’s tedious published papers, but gift horses and all. Especially fitting this year.)
Lu Han hasn’t ever actually seen one of these in person before. In elementary school, he’d spend hours pouring over glossy photos of past lion dances paraded throughout Chinatown and watch live broadcasts on their shoddy television with his parents and grandmother. After his parents’ split and his subsequent move into the suburbs with his mother, there hadn’t really been a point (nor a local channel to witness the yearly celebration).
The parade this year isn’t until Sunday, even though Friday is actually the start of the Lunar New Year. Yixing has rehearsals on Sundays with the orchestra, though, so the original plan to go see the dances was regretfully scrapped for a consolation dinner-Lu Han’s treat. But Lu Han’s sudden free schedule opened up for them to actually make it in time for the starting ceremony to the new year, and so.
They get there thirty minutes after the ceremony officially opens, completely taken aback by the hoards of Chinese folk crowding around Sara Roosevelt Park and the still-present clouds of smoke hanging in the clear winter air. The firecrackers are still going off, surrounded by billows of smoke in the fenced-off area of the courtyard of the park, and Lu Han drags Yixing closer into the crowds of people standing outside of it for a better look.
Lu Han manages to squeeze them into a spot around the upper railing of the park square, thanks to a couple of disgruntled white folks leaving their perch. He pushes by them and overhears a snippet of their conversation in his bid for the open space.
“What a disappointment!”
“I thought it was gonna be like actual fireworks and shit,” sneered another.
Lu Han almost stops in his tracks, but makes do with a massive snarl of disgust at their backs before elbowing his way to the railing. Yixing doesn’t say anything, but he bumps shoulders with Lu Han and smiles sardonically at him until Lu Han rolls his eyes and smiles back.
In truth, the firecrackers themselves are not very flashy and impressive, but Lu Han finds he doesn’t actually care that much. There’s a buzzing in the air, separate from the very pops of the firecrackers, that sends a thrill down his spine. So many families crowd next to him and around the square, holding up their toddlers and their phones and cameras for a closer look at the festivities, and elders stand around in the bitter cold, proudly watching as the crackers welcome them into a new year.
“It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?” Yixing’s voice murmurs into his ear, lips brushing against his lobe. Lu Han pushes back the shiver that instinctively runs down his body and nods enthusiastically, staring gleefully at the crush of people around them.
“It’s so cool,” he says lamely, unable to find the words to describe just how cool it is. Yixing laughs, though.
“I haven’t been to one of these ceremonies since I left China, to be honest,” Yixing confesses, his already quiet voice near inaudible against the crackers. Lu Han edges even closer to him to hear. “I think I forgot almost everything that happens.”
“Well, at least you’re starting on a new blank slate with me,” Lu Han says with a light nudge. Yixing giggles.
“I like to think I know more than you, at least,” he says tartly. “Don’t put me down to your level just yet.”
“Those are fighting words, man,” Lu Han says, mock-offended. “Don’t make me start out the new year with a new best friend.”
“Like you could live a day without me.” The crackers start dying down now, and Yixing links his arms with Lu Han’s and starts dragging him away from the ledge.
“Excuse you, I’ve lived eighteen years without you in my life, I can certainly start again,” Lu Han says, grabbing Yixing’s neck and giving him a gentle noogie. Yixing lets it happen and takes back Lu Han’s arm when he lets go, dragging him to the stretch of booths lining the pathway around the park.
“Lu-ge, will you buy me some lunch,” Yixing asks cutely, adopting a higher pitch to voice his request. Lu Han almost unhinges his jaw in his responding laugh and swats him on the chest.
“Only if you promise never to use that voice again,” he says, queuing them up on the line for food. Yixing blinks innocently at him and tilts his head in askance.
“But calling you Lu-ge is okay, huh? Or should that be daddy? Will you feed me, daddy?”
Lu Han almost chokes when the woman in front of them turns back with an incredulous look and frantically shakes his head at her until she turns around with a sniff. Yixing’s clinging onto him for support, almost on his knees in hysterical laughter.
“Just for that, I’m going to feed you cockroaches,” Lu Han hisses, bright red and mortified. Yixing pays him no mind, still lost in mirth. “Biggest jerkface ever in the history of jerkfaces.”
“Aw, but you love me anyway, daddy,” Yixing replies after his laughter dies down, wiping away tears.
“I will leave you on the streets, you ass,” Lu Han mumbles, and punches him in the gut. Yixing beams at him through his wheezes.
-
After a quick lunch of fried rice and sweet and sour chicken eaten while walking around the small park, they stop back at the park square, watching on the outskirts as the courtyard fills up with performers and spectators wanting a better look. There’s a group of women coming onto the court now, in ornate dresses with exceptionally long sleeves, and the crowds part around them to give them space to perform.
They stand, clapping in time to the music, next to a family of four, a boy and a girl asking to go up further to the ledges to see the dancing properly. Yixing glances at Lu Han, who just smiles indulgently in acquiescence, and approaches the parents. The parents look taken aback for a moment, but allow the girl to take Yixing’s hand after Yixing’s serious words.
Lu Han watches Yixing hoist the giggling little girl up onto his shoulders, half-worried for his waist and half-amused. He goes to stand by the oak tree, waving Yixing away as he turns back with a questioning look, and gestures for the two to go closer to the railings with a smile.
There’s a small ball of contentment in his gut, a warm feeling that spreads from his curled up frozen toes to the tips of his equally frozen fingers. Lu Han wraps his arms around in a self-embrace, offhandedly berating himself for choosing a peacoat instead of a smarter down jacket, and he watches with a fondness sweet on his tongue as the people around him swirl in raucous cheers and firesnaps.
Yixing’s dancing with the little girl now, movements exaggerated and flourished, in time with the pounding drums of the dancing women on the outdoor basketball court, and Lu Han can only laugh at the serene expression on his face and the giddy one on the girl’s.
He’s got something, a dull roaring in his ears, trying to tell him a secret that Lu Han can’t hear over all the noise. He knows, faintly, that his body’s trying make him listen, can not-quite feel his feet at the edge of a unknown precipice, but at the moment, all Lu Han can see is the color red and Yixing’s bright dimples.
-
NYU is fucking with them, Lu Han swears to the high heavens. The second time a snowstorm has hit the city, with huge flurries coming down and slowing down everyone, and the university still refuses to shut down for even just one day. He could set the administration on fire.
He trucks home, lamenting the state of his shoes and still grumbling over the stalling of both the N and R trains, and clunks back into the apartment with a loud put-upon sigh. The apartment is empty again today, and Lu Han deflates, his hope to be able to let off steam by complaining to Yixing dashed.
He sighs again, quieter, and shuffles in, taking off his shoes and shedding his layers. He leaves the pile of clothes on the couch, content to deal with them later, and goes into the kitchen for a glass of water. A scrap of paper on the kitchen table catches his eye, and he redirects himself to the table instead.
I hope the snow didn’t bury you today; it’d suck for me to have to look for a new roommate! > 3 < I’m gonna be out until at least 10 tonight! Gotta go practice for my jury; I must be perfect (ง •̀_•́)ง
There’s some sweet bean soup in the fridge for you, and you can heat up the leftovers from last night. Don’t be too much of a grouch today! Lu Han 加油!
Lu Han feels his face creasing and wrinkling with the smile that Jongdae always likes to say makes him look like a ninety-year old raisin, but he can’t help it. His grouchiness has completely disappeared. He puts down the note and goes to the fridge for his precious bean soup, his disgusting day flipped around with just a few words from Yixing and some food.
-
The Sunday morning of Yixing’s first jury exam, Lu Han gets up an hour early to make breakfast. He sneaks out his room as quietly as possible, and furtively glances around the living area and kitchen to make sure Yixing’s not up yet, puttering around and ruining his plans. Satisfied with his absence, Lu Han strides into the kitchen area, determined to wake him up with something nice.
He opens the refrigerator as quietly as he can and peers inside, chewing on his lip. Yixing has the whole fridge stocked to brim with groceries, but Lu Han’s never really touched anything besides the user-friendly milk jug and luncheon meat packs. He reaches confidently for the carton of eggs, though, assured in his night-long researching on omelette recipes, and pulls them out-forgetting that the lid wasn’t on and that one actually needed to balance a full carton of eggs in hand if they were gonna hold it.
Half the batch immediately plummets onto the ground, and with it, Lu Han’s hopes of a nice send-off breakfast.
“Fuuuuuck,” he breathes out, staring down listlessly at the smashed yellow yolks and white eggshells. He looks at the half-empty carton still in hand with betrayal and slowly stuffs it back into the fridge, burning ambition already doused with immediate setback. Lu Han quietly cleans up the floor with a damp towel and throws away the mess before reopening the fridge for the milk jug. Cereal it is.
When Yixing shuffles out of his room, yawning widely and scratching at his bedhead, he finds Lu Han perched at the kitchen table, twiddling his thumbs, and looking at Yixing with a hopeful expression. A bowl of dry granola and a glass of milk sit across from him, spoon and napkin set out, and a banana on the side. He stops in his tracks and stares back.
“What’s this?” he asks, a growing grin on his face. Lu Han shrugs, a little self-conscious, and looks down at his fingers.
“It’s just breakfast,” he mumbles. “It’s not rocket science.”
Yixing sits down, dimples smiling at him. “For you, it might as well be,” he jokes, but lets it go with the baleful stare from Lu Han. “Thanks, though. This was really sweet of you.”
Lu Han coughs and waves it off. “Yeah, okay, enough with the feelings, just eat your damn breakfast and get out of here.”
Yixing rolls his eyes but eats, pouring the milk into his bowl and spooning the granola into his mouth. Lu Han props his cheeks up with his fists, content to just watch. Yixing notices and picks up the banana, poking Lu Han in the arm with it.
“You going to class today?”
Lu Han hums. “In a little bit, yeah.”
Yixing peels the banana and splits in half, taking the top half and pressing the bottom with peel still intact into Lu Han’s hands. “Here. You should eat something too, then, or you’ll text me and whine about it to me while I’m waiting for my jury and distract me.”
Lu Han twitches a grin in thanks, and watches as Yixing finish the last of his granola and milk and shoves the banana half in after he swallows his first mouthful. He stays at the table while Yixing leaves to go get dressed, nibbling at his half of the banana, and waits for Yixing to come back out, in far too little clothing for 20 degree weather.
He comes up to Yixing, grabbing a stray scarf lying on the couch and reels him in, wrapping it tightly around Yixing’s exposed collarbones and covering the lower half of his face. “You never learn to dress properly, you giant doofus.” He feels Yixing’s shoulders trembling in laughter under his hands, and swats him on the head. “Don’t laugh; you will get sick one day, mark my words.”
“Don’t curse me like that, daddy, I thought you loved me,” Yixing says, muffled under the layers of wool, and Lu Han considers pulling the ends of his scarf down to choke him.
“Get out of here, you hooligan,” he responds, swatting Yixing on the butt this time and pushing to the door.
Yixing slips on his boots and adjusts his backpack straps, and waves at Lu Han before opening the door, and Lu Han feels something click in his brain.
“Hey-” he blurts out, just as Yixing closes the door behind him.
Hey.
I love you.
-
NEXT