the last straw in the restaurant, but i don't mind sharing (iii)
BACK
-
It feels sort of like a dam broke, but at the same time, nothing’s changed. He sees Yixing the night he comes back from jury, and he’s expecting to hear some sort of heavenly choir erupt at Yixing’s appearance, but it’s the same old Yixing. The same old curly-top, the deep dimples, the dark eye-bags under his eyes from his constant late-night practicing; the only thing that greets him is Yixing’s soft voice and a plain pie he’d brought back for them to share.
He doesn’t think about it, but the thought just slams itself into his mind throughout the day. He walks down the sidewalk to get a bag of clementines because Yixing ate them out of the last three crates again, and he just thinks ruefully to himself, what a doof. And minutes later, his ears will burn and his heart will seize up in his throat because he remembers, oh. Oh, I like him. The feeling won’t stop.
He goes to class and sits in the back of the class, doodling little creatures in the margins while taking down notes on morphophonemic analysis, and when it’s time to leave, he notices that all the doodles are variations of that stupid curly-top smiley that Yixing likes to leave around as his signature. (On a whim, he goes back through the other pages of his notes, and finds the same smiley peeking out in the corners of random pages. He has to sit there in the empty lecture room for the next few minutes, too mortified to move.)
Lu Han goes out with Minseok for a cruise down Broadway because Minseok’s sister’s birthday’s coming up, and he finds himself stopping in front of a dusty old music store, wedged between a hipster coffee shop and a Zara which Minseok goes into. There’s a miniature guitar sitting in the window front, faded red and chipping, but Lu Han thinks of Yixing immediately. He automatically checks for the price, and when the realization of what he’s doing hits him, he blushes maroon and forces himself to walk away to join Minseok.
(When they come back out and pass by the music shop, Lu Han makes Minseok wait for him while he trips inside the store and buys the damn guitar. The sleepy cashier boy checking his purchase doesn’t make a comment about his flustered appearance, but Lu Han feels more than enough self-consciousness for the both of them. He hides the purchase in his closet when he gets back, facepalms whenever he catches sight of it peeking out.
Yixing never finds out.)
-
Yixing’s strumming away at his guitar in his room again today, when Lu Han comes home from work. There’s the melodic chatter of the Sino radio station being played over the whirring hum of their radiator, and the reedy tenor of Yixing’s voice floating in from the recesses of his space.
“Honey, I’m home,” Lu Han calls out with a wide grin, slipping off his backpack and shoes. He shakes the snowflakes from his hair and flicks back his bangs away from his eyes. He’s gonna need a haircut soon. The strumming stops, but the singing doesn’t, growing closer in volume as Yixing sticks his head out first, then the rest of himself from his room.
“Ni wen wo aiiiii, ni you duo sheeeeen, wo ai ni youuu ji feeeen,” he sings, his tremolo drawing out his vowels. He draws close to Lu Han, half-swaying, half-dancing, eyes pressed closed, immersed in the song. Lu Han laughs and pushes him away with a gloved hand, but Yixing snatches it and pulls him in.
“Oh my god, you loser, what are you doing,” Lu Han tries to say, but his helpless laughter wins out. Yixing grins at him, opening his eyes and peeking from his lashes, and latches his arms around Lu Han’s waist and shoulder in a waltz position.
“Wo de qing bu yiiiii, wo de ai bu biaaaaan,” he continues, swaying Lu Han around the living room without a care. “Yue liang dai biao wo de xiiin.”
It’s a familiar song, even with Yixing’s exaggerated singing, and Lu Han can’t help but relax into Yixing’s arms as he twirls around, listening as Yixing curls his tongue around the words of a language half known to Lu Han. He hums to the tune, nestling his head a little into the crook of Yixing’s neck, and takes care not to blow air over his collarbones.
“Qing qing de yi ge wen, yi jin da dong wo de xin,” Yixing sings, lower now and softer in volume. He moves both his arms to Lu Han’s waist and trades the livelier waltzing for a soft sway in place. “Shen shen de yi duan qing, jiao wo si nian ru ji.”
Lu Han feels the small hairs of his neck prickle as the song swells down and then back up again, and his cheeks burn extra heat in the relative warmth of Yixing’s arms. That feeling’s clicked back on in his head, and the extreme proximity and the lyrics of the song-which even he, bilingually-challenged as he is, is aware enough to know is a love song-are making him flushed and all-too conscious of what Yixing means to him.
Yixing notices the sudden stiffness, though, and smiles gently at Lu Han before drawing his arms away, allowing him his space. His singing tapers off, and they stand across each other, Yixing’s gaze fixed on Lu Han and Lu Han too embarrassed to look straight at him.
“Welcome home,” Yixing says after a beat. “Did you have a good day today?”
The innocuous question clicks Lu Han back into motion, relieved by the reappearance of routine, and he looks back up with a small smile.
“Same old, same old. Could do without this fucking snow, though,” he says with a shrug, and Yixing nods sympathetically, moving aside into the kitchen so Lu Han can head into his room to change. He comes back out with his down jacket shed and sits at the kitchen table to watch Yixing putter around. “How about you?”
“Hm, we were doing a unit on music history in China during the twentieth century, and someone brought up Teresa Teng. So I did a medley of her songs when I got home,” Yixing replies, taking out a pot from the cupboards.
“Oh! My mom used to listen to her a lot,” Lu Han points out once the name sinks in. “No wonder that song sounded so familiar.”
“Yeah, this is like one of her most famous songs,” Yixing teases. “Even an American-born like you should know it.” Lu Han kicks his leg out to hit him in the shin, but Yixing just sidesteps him and goes for the fridge. “Do you know what the song’s about?”
“Uh...something about love and the moon, that’s all I got,” Lu Han says sheepishly, drawing back his leg. Yixing laughs.
“About the gist of it, I guess. Go do your homework or something; dinner should be ready in an hour or two,” he says, waving Lu Han away. Lu Han rolls his eyes, but gets up anyway.
“Okay, mom,” he says snippily, dodging the dishtowel Yixing throws at his back with a snicker. “Cook me something tasty!”
“I’ll cook you for dinner,” Yixing calls out. He starts humming the song again, and Lu Han manages to catch him singing another snippet under his breath before he goes back in his room.
“Ni qu xiang yi xiang, ni qu kan yi kan, yue liang dai biao wo de xin.”
-
Yixing’s in the middle of chopping up chives when Lu Han bursts out of his room, a little frazzled-looking. He looks up, confused frown pulling down the corners of his lips, and Lu Han doesn’t think about how ridiculously adorable he looks because there’s a bigger issue at hand.
“What’s wrong? Did you forget your phone at the office again?” Yixing asks, furrowing his brows in consternation. Lu Han shakes his head, working his jaw a little to find the appropriate words.
“You, uh, you-” Right, no, this isn’t the right way to go about it. He goes back into his room, leaving Yixing staring blankly after him. He pinches the bridge of his nose, paces a little in front of his door, trying to put together a sentence that won’t sound as offensive as it does in his mind. He hears the thok of Yixing’s knife against the chopping board start again, and Lu Han takes a big gulp of air for strength.
He comes out of his room again and clears his throat, drawing Yixing’s attention away from his chopping board again. Yixing looks at him expectantly, a bit of worry still marring his face.
Lu Han’s mind blanks. “Uh…. Where’s Kris?” he asks, scrambling for a coherent sentence. Yixing stares at him for a moment, blank, then blinks.
“Oh. I guess he’s in the dorm right now?” Yixing offers, a questioning lilt at the end of his answer. “Did you need something from him?”
“N-no, I mean.” Lu Han exhales in agitation. “I mean, where’s Kris? I haven’t seen him around lately?”
Yixing blinks again and tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Hm. I guess you’re right.” He doesn’t offer anything else in response, and turns back to the chopping board, dumping his cut chives into a bowl and grabbing for a bulb of garlic.
Lu Han gapes at his back and apparent dismissal. “Is-Is something wrong? Are you guys having a fight or something?” he asks hesitantly. Yixing freezes in motion for a second but continues shelling cloves from the bulb.
“No, nothing’s wrong.” Yixing looks over his shoulder, sudden secretive smile dimpling across his face. “Are you trying to ask me something, Lu Han?”
Lu Han splutters, flustered and annoyed at being called out. Yixing snickers, and props a hand on his hip. “W-what-I just-”
“I can’t answer if you don’t ask me,” Yixing singsongs, smile growing. Lu Han scowls at him and makes a strangling gesture, but loosens up his shoulders and plops down at the table.
“Fine, asshole. Excuse me for trying to be a sensitive friend. Are you and Kris still dating?” Lu Han grinds out. Yixing claps his hands patronizingly at him.
“There now, was that so hard?” Yixing says approvingly. Lu Han sticks his tongue out at him in response.
“Just tell me, you giant dick.”
“Wow, that’s definitely going to make me wanna answer your question,” Yixing shoots back, creasing his eyes in jest. He starts smashing garlic cloves, turning his back around. “But no, we’re not dating anymore.”
Lu Han gapes again, more for the flippancy of Yixing’s response than his actual answer. “Wait, but what? Why? Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened,” Yixing assures him, looking over his shoulder. “Contrary to what the media tells us, not everything has to be a big gigantic fight or a dramatic break-up. Sometimes, things just don’t work out.”
“So, wait, was this, like, a mutual thing? Did he dump you? Did you dump him? What happened?”
Yixing starts mincing his cloves, swinging his knife down in a pendulum motion across his board. “Well, I guess I dumped him if you want to split hairs.” Lu Han bites back an impatient demand for more detail. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“What did you say to him, though?” Lu Han presses, unable to hold back his curiosity. Yixing puts down his knife at that and turns to face him straight-on.
“I told him I couldn’t do it because I like somebody else,” he says slowly and clearly. Lu Han’s insides clench up.
“Y-you do?”
Yixing shrugs, secret smile back on his face. “Yeah, I do. I like them a lot.”
“...Do they like you back?”
“I don’t know. I’m still waiting for them to catch up.”
His insides are swirling right now. Yixing doesn’t say anything, but watches him with that same smile, waiting for some sort of answer. Lu Han wants to say something, but his ears are dribbling out white noise, mind a blank canvas.
“...Oh,” he says at last. He wets his lip, hesitates on his next response. “Are you… are you going to tell them, then?”
Yixing winks at him. “We’ll see. He’s a smart guy, I think I’ll let him figure it out first.”
-
Lu Han doesn’t stew on Yixing’s fucking cryptic-ass comments. He goes to class and to work, and spends his week holed up in Bobst studying for his midterms. He eats lunch with Yixing when he can, and they don’t bring up the conversation again, sticking to just normal school complaining and making plans for the weekend.
He does whine to Minseok a little, dropping by his dorm when he’s certain Kris is still on campus, and blurts out everything that’s been going on. Minseok listens with half an ear, concentrating more on his Chinese homework, but he makes appropriate noises at the right times during Lu Han’s story.
“What’s going on, Minseok, what am I doing? What is he doing?” Lu Han groans, flopping on Minseok’s bed and suffocating himself with a pillow in frustration.
“You like Yixing, Yixing likes someone who is heavily implied to be you, Yixing and Kris are no longer dating, what do you think is going on?” Minseok answers sarcastically, scribbling down characters in his notebook at his desk. He spares a pitying glance at Lu Han’s prone form. “Tell me you’re not actually this dense.”
“But what if it’s not me! What if he’s been talking about, I don’t know, Tao all this time, and I was just too blind to see it?” Lu Han wails through the pillow. He takes it away and glares balefully at an unsympathetic Minseok. “You’re not taking this seriously!”
Minseok rolls his eyes and throws his pencil down. “I’ve been friends with you two since freshman year, right? I think I know you two pretty well by now, don’t you think?”
Lu Han sulkily nods, pouting. “You’re treating me like a child right now,” he points out, petulant and grumpy.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t being a giant buttnugget right now, I wouldn’t have to,” Minseok snaps. He pinches the skin just above the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Look, my point is, I’ve seen you two interact with each other, and I swear to god, you guys have basically been platonically married since you first met. Would it be so strange if he actually did like you?”
Lu Han grumbles and smushes the pillow back into his face, response unintelligible. Minseok sighs.
“You can stay a little longer and whine if you want, but counseling hours are over if you’re not gonna listen, okay,” he says and goes back to work.
Spurned by Minseok’s lack of patience, Lu Han leaves and drops himself at Jongdae’s dorm instead. Tao lets him in again, smiling at him as he leaves the dorm for class, and Lu Han makes his way to Jongdae’s room to go and wail a little more.
“Jongdaaaa-holy shit!” Lu Han slams the door closed again. His eyes are peeled wide open, still seeing the after-images of what was behind the door, and he scrubs them with his palms, trying to squish them out of memory. “I did not see what I just saw, I did not see what I just saw, I did not see what I just saw.”
An out-of-breath and disheveled Jongdae quickly exits the room, cracking the door wide enough for Lu Han to catch sight of an equally messed-up Kris sprawling on the mattress before shutting it close again.
“Hey, seriously, can you learn to knock,” Jongdae says, flushed and a little annoyed. “Didn’t your mother, like, teach you manners or anything?”
Lu Han stares at him incredulously, ignoring the state of his undone pants and peeking boxers. “Um. You? You? Kris? You and Kris?” He gestures to the door with flailing hands. “Hello?”
“Oh, that,” Jongdae says, lips curling into a smug grin. He crosses his arms and leans against the door coolly, shrugging casually. “You know.”
“No? I don’t know? I seriously do not fucking know?” Lu Han squints at him with more incredulity. “Can we not with the crypticness?”
Jongdae breaks out into a gleeful smile. “I did it, okay, I soothed the heroine’s broken heart, I got senpai to notice me. I am Domyouji, Lu Han!”
“...Can we please not use these terms, this is not a shoujo manga, please stop.” Lu Han rubs his temples. “So, you’re saying you and Kris are a thing now.”
Jongdae snorts. “Yeah, like ‘thing’ is any less juvenile. Say the big kids’ word, Lu Han, go on, repeat after me: ‘re-la-tion-ship’.”
Lu Han mimes a backhand at him. “Shut up, brat, I’m older than you, don’t make me spank you.”
“Sorry, man, you missed your chance, my ass is Kris’ now,” Jongdae retorts, wiggling his butt at him for extra emphasis. Lu Han grimaces and pushes his face away.
“Wait, you knew that he and Yixing broke up already,” Lu Han asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Well, yeah, I mean, they’d been broken up for a while? Like mid-January maybe? Didn’t Yixing say anything?”
“Uh….” Lu Han’s at a loss for words. Jongdae notes this with a raised eyebrow but doesn’t press on.
“Anyway, now’s your chance to get Yixing,” he continues, grabbing Lu Han by the shoulders. Lu Han stares back at him, wide-eyed. “Don’t give me that look, you know just as well as I do that Yixing’s been the Kaoru to your Kenshin since forever. Go get him, man.”
“Stop saying that, oh my god. And what manga reference is this?”
Jongdae shrugs. “You said no more shoujo references, so I gave you a shonen one. And it’s a classic, you uncultured swine, educate yourself.”
“I’m leaving, I can’t do this,” Lu Han says, clutching at his temples. Jongdae thumps him enthusiastically across the back.
“Get ‘im, tiger!”
“I will slap you.”
(He texts a “Congratulations on snatching senpai’s heart!” to Jongdae as he walks away from the dorm building with a wry smile.
Jongdae pings back with a bunch of smilies and cat faces.)
-
So, it’s not actually that Lu Han doesn’t realize who Yixing’s been talking about. He’s not stupid, he’s just worried.
A better word would be ‘scared’, to be honest. The thought of confessing feels ever more daunting than before, now that he’s been basically given the okay to go and say he loves Yixing to his face. And it’s weird because he’s only just been able to say the words to himself, fully and without pause or hesitation.
He does love Yixing; he loves the stupid dramas Yixing likes to watch at night, the miles of clementine rinds he leaves behind after eating through an entire crate, the Chinese songs he likes to randomly sing while cooking dinner, the way he lets Lu Han collapse on him after a long day and use him as a pillow. He loves the faces Yixing makes when he puts lemon juice in his drink at a restaurant when Yixing isn’t looking, how he always makes time to talk to the other tenants of their building and listen to the older folk and speak back to them in their home language, the smile that Yixing always gives him when he thinks Lu Han isn’t looking like he’s something precious.
He loves that Yixing doesn’t push him into anything, just stops and waits for him to catch up because he’s important enough that Yixing refuses to leave him behind, loves everything that makes up Yixing the person.
He just… doesn’t know the words to say all of it.
-
They meet up at Bang again, Lu Han’s choice because he’d been tasting phantom pho for the past three days and he needs to make it a reality to assuage his stomach. Yixing’s wearing a thicker jacket today, which Lu Han is extremely proud of, and he tells him so as they get seated in the far back of the restaurant.
“You’re dressed like a real human today, Yixing, this is a miracle,” he says tearfully, pressing a hand to his heart. Yixing rolls his eyes and kicks him under the table.
“It’s 18 degrees outside, I’m not suicidal,” he retorts, unzipping his jacket and revealing a thin hoodie underneath. Lu Han spoke too soon. He covers his face with his hand and muffles a despairing groan.
“I swear to god, you just never listen. It’s just like that saying, teaching an old dog new tricks,” he says, exasperated. Yixing ignores him for the server and orders them their regular meal.
“Shut up and pass me my chopsticks, you nag,” he says when he’s done. Lu Han tsks at him but passes over a pair of chopsticks from the canister. “Daddy’s been so suffocating lately.”
“Daddy will whip your ass if you keep airing out our dirty laundry in public,” Lu Han mutters, taking out a pair for himself. Yixing just smirks.
“But I like being punished,” he says slyly, trailing up his foot against Lu Han’s leg. Lu Han almost has a heart attack and chokes on his spit. He doubles over coughing and forces out a middle finger, shaking it emphatically at Yixing.
“Cannot take you anywhere, jesus christ,” Lu Han manages to spit out when he’s done hacking up a lung. Yixing hands over a napkin with an amused and slightly apologetic smile.
“But I know you love me best,” he says with his dimpled smile, creasing his eyes.
Lu Han’s heart does stop now. Yixing’s distracted by a group of new customers clambering into the restaurant, but Lu Han’s focused completely on Yixing.
“I do,” he whispers. Yixing doesn’t turn around, likely not hearing what he said, and Lu Han bites down on his lip, screwing back up his courage to say it again. “I do love you.”
Yixing doesn’t look back at him, and for a second, Lu Han thinks he’s deliberately pretending not to hear him because he wants to let him down without saying it outright, but then he catches the suppressed dimple on the side of his cheek and the upward-turned lips. Lu Han doesn’t quite kick him, but it’s a near thing.
“Oh my god, you absolute buttface, don’t do this to me,” Lu Han whines, warm under his collar and on his cheeks. Yixing looks at him now, positively beaming back at him and trying to hold back a laugh.
“It’s only fair I make you wait a little bit, though,” he says. “You made me wait three years.” He bites his own lip then, unable to keep the glee from his face.
It feels like there’s a sun growing inside his body, ripening and cresting like a sweet kiss, but with the force of a supernova. Their server comes back with their bowls and leaves them grinning goofily at each other across the table, food ignored.
There’s something at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be exhaled into life, but Lu Han thinks he’ll keep it to himself for now. They’re already being cheesy enough as it is.
(I think I’d wait an eternity for you.)
-
They do a big spring clean-out of their apartment when the air is finally warm enough that their fingers don’t freeze immediately within five minutes of exposure. Yixing opens all of the windows of their apartment, and gets stuck with dusting the entire place, while Lu Han does a huge clean-out of both their closets and laundry for their bed sheets and blankets.
Lu Han’s almost done canvassing the black hole that is his closet when Yixing pops his head in, pulling his attention away.
“Hey, I’m gonna go get us some lunch. You wanna come with or do you wanna finish cleaning up in here?” Yixing lets his eyes stray around the room, noting the mountains of dusty clothing and textbooks and shoes piled on the ground and mattress.
Lu Han thinks about it for a minute, considering the mess surrounding him and the almost empty closet before him. It’s an easy choice. “Yeah, I’m coming. Gimme a second to find some socks and shoes.”
Yixing steps in the room to wait while Lu Han searches through his sock drawer. He pulls out a pair of polka-dotted socks, takes a whiff to make sure it’s clean, and sits down on a pile of clothing to pull them on. Meanwhile, Yixing’s rifling through his stuff, looking with polite interest at the hidden knick-knacks Lu Han managed to unearth.
“You’re a bit of a packrat, aren’t you,” he says amused and picking up a flimsy stuffed bunny. Lu Han makes a face at him and snatches it out of his hands.
“They’re memories in tangible form, okay, don’t judge,” he says defensively, setting the bunny on the top of his dresser, away from Yixing’s preying fingers.
“It’s cute, though. It sort of fits your hoarding personality,” Yixing teases, poking him in the ribs. Lu Han lightly smacks him on the chest, then draws him in for a chaste kiss.
“You’re cute. Now, go wait outside; I’ll be ready in a minute,” he says when he pulls away. Yixing smiles and leans in for another peck before drawing away. He’s about to leave the room when something catches his eye.
“Oh! What’s this?” he says, moving to Lu Han’s closet and reaching his arm in for something. He pulls out a dingy red guitar and gently blows the dust off it, cradling it in his arms. “When did you get this?”
Lu Han doesn’t turn quite as red as the guitar, but it’s deep enough that Yixing notices. “I, uh, I bought it for you,” he mumbles, hoping Yixing doesn’t pry any further.
“You bought it for who?” Yixing asks, smirking and drawing out his ‘o’. Lu Han scowls at him and steps toward him to take the guitar away, but Yixing holds it out of reach. “Come on, Lu Han, pretty please?”
“I bought it for you, you jerk, now give it back,” he snaps, reaching for it. Yixing titters and bops him on the nose.
“But this is a gift for me, isn’t it? Why would I give it back?” Yixing cooes, dancing away and strumming the guitar a little. “This baby is all mine now.”
Lu Han throws his hands up in defeat and walks out of the room. “I’m leaving and getting lunch, and you can’t have any,” he calls out, sulking.
He’s bracing against the wall, slipping on his sneakers, when he feels Yixing come up behind him and pulls him to his chest. He backhands Yixing, does a half-hearted job of trying to break free, and lets Yixing grab his hand.
“Guess what,” Yixing sings, kissing the back of his neck. Lu Han’s cheeks flare up.
“What, dingus,” he replies, trying to hold onto the irritation.
“You love me,” Yixing continues, placing extra emphasis on ‘love’. He wraps his arms around Lu Han’s waist and squeezes. “You love me.”
“Do I really?” Lu Han hedges, fighting a smile, turning his head back to face him. Yixing nods seriously and presses his forehead to Lu Han’s.
“Yes, you do. And that’s very okay with me,” he says somberly. Lu Han snorts and breaks away, Yixing’s arms easily parting for him.
“Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m still leaving you behind.”
Yixing hums and follows Lu Han out the door.
“That’s okay. I still love you anyway.”
END
-
end notes: this was a behemoth of a fic for me; before this exchange, the most i'd ever written was like 7k in one sitting for a one-shot, but this fic, man, this fic set new records for me. i scrambled to finish this fic on time for that second extension, writing like ~5k a day for four days to get that end 12k in. there were many a tear shed over the writing process, i can say that much. a lot of the time, i wanted to stop and just scrap everything i was writing. near the end, i just got so burned out that it'd seemed unlikely i'd even be able to finish this fic at all.
but i got there in the end. thank you to mangosteins and pyro_o for holding my hands for those last two weeks and being the necessary drill sergeants/mothers i needed to browbeat me into finishing this fic. srsly, i couldn't have done without you two. and thank to my beloved tlist for your endless support and tolerance of my crying during the deadlines. you guys are the actual best.
there were a couple of manga references made in this fic. they were (in order of mention): beauty pop, hana yori dango, strobe edge, skip beat, ouran high school host club and rurouni kenshin. the song yixing sang to luhan was "the moon represents my heart", which was most famously sung by teresa teng, found here. translated lyrics and pinyin can be found here. there was a bit of discussion of whether to keep the pinyin or replace it with characters in the fic, but i decided to keep it as is for now.
this was the second exchange i'd ever participated in, and despite the amount of pain i went through, i really am glad i did it. i learned a lot from this experience. i didn't get to write all the things i wanted, in terms of actual outline and pacing, and i'm p sure there's a lot of superfluous language here that can be cut out, but i'm overall pleased with what i got out of it. i think of this as a nicely-edited first draft; maybe someday, i'll be able to come back and edit it more thoroughly.
look forward to a coda with actual porn in the near future.