Everything About Living Free [1/8]
Title: Everything about living free
Pairing: kris/lay
Rating: PG-13
Length: 43,278 words
Summary: Yixing has an eight-step list to change his life and the first thing is to get a tattoo. What’s not on the list, however, is the hot tattoo artist that comes along. (it's so much more than that, really)
A/N: wow. here we are. at last. three months ago i started writing this fic with the goal of reaching 30k and didn't even expect to grow this attached to it. i lived and breathed this for three months and maybe it's crap and boring and not at all what i initially wanted to have, but i'm happy it's done. i did a lot of research on seoul to write some stuff, but do not rely on that. pls forgive me if something feels divergent.
a whole horde of zombie thanks to: gi and hannah for always being there for me. i would never ever get this done without your help and support. i love you.
to yy and chanel an eternity of thanks for betaing, correcting my dumb mistakes and giving me advice.
to cla for all her encouragement (are you proud of me? i actually managed to write this crap) and also for listening to me whine about every aspect of my life. thank you.
and to you, who's thinking about reading this, a good luck.
The cutting sound of someone else's pain pierces right through Yixing's soul. He shudders, an arm linking tightly through Baekhyun's when he remembers he's supposed to go next.
“Scared?” Baekhyun looks down at Yixing’s head on his shoulder, amusement loud in his voice. Of course he’s having fun, the prospect of Yixing’s agony gives him life. “Wanna take off? You still have time.”
Whimpering, Yixing shakes his head (which is actually just rubbing his cheek on Baekhyun’s shoulder, but he makes his point). This is something he needs to do.
To be honest, getting a tattoo wasn’t something that he had needed to do all along, but as of now, it was something that he needed to do. . Ever since he decided to get out of the staleness of his own life. Truth is, Yixing is tired of living. He is tired of his boring job, of coming home to his boring xbox with not enough games because he can’t afford that much with his paycheck. He’s tired of the same Friday nights with the reruns of Friends. It wasn’t until he stopped by Minseok’s newsstand on his way home from work that he realized how stuck he is in this boring circle of life.
“I’m passing the stand over to my brother,” Minseok had said that same day. “I guess he’s hiring someone to look after it.”
Minseok was moving to Beijing. “I love the idea of Beijing, and I wanna see it before I die. I saw myself dying with this job that I hate… I don’t want that. So I guess it’s time to start doing things I really want to do.” The brightness of his eyes had caught Yixing’s attention. They’ve been friends for a while and Yixing can’t remember the last time he’s seen that look on Minseok’s face. He can’t remember the last time he’s looked on a mirror and seen that same look on his face.
So Yixing went past his home and straight to Jongdae’s apartment.
“I lost track of my life,” he announced to his two friends (Baekhyun was there too, as usual) sitting on the couch, worriedly looking up at him as he walked in circles around their tiny living room. “I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“Well, technically you’re ruining my rug with your dirty shoes, take it off!” Jongdae exclaimed and Yixing slowly removed his shoes, before finally hurling the pair towards the front door. Baekhyun scowled as if he was going to retort, but chose to remain silent.
“The point is, I’m stuck!” he’d continued. “I have that stupid job in the company and the only thing I long for the whole day, is coming home to freaking Dead Rising 3!”
Jongdae snorted, “Shitty game.”
“You get it?” Yixing whined, letting his weight fall on the armchair behind him. “I’m twenty-five and stuck! I’m stuck!”
“So claw your way out! Are you going to sit and wait for things to cool down?” Baekhyun replied.
“No, of course not! I made a list of things I want to do and I’m actually doing it all. There are eight items...” he pulls a list out of his pocket and waves the piece of paper at his friends.
“And the first item on the list is ‘get a tattoo’” he looks at his friends and waits for a reaction.
All he gets is Baekhyun’s laughter.
“You’re not going to get a tattoo, Yixing,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach.
1. Get a tattoo
And here they are, at a tattoo studio waiting for Yixing’s turn to get ink on his flesh.
Well, it took him long enough.
“I can’t believe you’re getting a tattoo.” Baekhyun mumbles, pocketing his hands and letting out a loud sigh that shows just how distressed he is.
“I mean it, I’m changing my life.” Yixing says with a determined frown on his face.
The little door to the cabin slams open and a girl rushes out, teary eyed and hand hovering near her newly drawn shoulder. It’s red, puffy and painful looking.
Yixing shivers.
“Yixing?” the artist, someone named Zitao, calls out his name. He’s wearing a black mask with a cat painted in white ink. Yixing thinks it’s cool. Perhaps he should just give up the phrase he had chosen and tattoo that cat on himself.
“Good luck.” Baekhyun says as he walks into the cabin. Yixing smiles and closes the door.
“So, Yixing,” Zitao slides closer to Yixing while on his chair. “I’m not doing your tattoo.”
Yixing frowns. “What?”
“My partner, Yifan, he’s on his way over. He’s doing your tattoo, I have a wedding to attend.” Zitao explains while removing his gloves. Yixing nods.
“Oh, that’s fine. Should I wait here or…?”
“Yeah, he’ll be here in a sec. Your art is here, so you should just tell him where you want it.” Zitao smiles at him, and Yixing thinks he’s cute. He likes cute people.
“Ok, thank you,” he smiles back at him.
Yixing sits on the weird chair when Zitao leaves. He takes a look around, inspecting all the art that has been framed as well as pictures of tattooed people. The customers seem pretty pleased with their pieces, smiling widely at the camera. Yixing wonders if they would take his picture too.
He’s considering walking over to the table with the several containers of paint when the door opens. He adjusts on the chair and looks up at the newcomer.
“Zhang Yixing?” asks a tall, black-haired man with his long bangs tied back into a loose ponytail. The man pulls a lollipop out of his mouth with a pop, licking his lips as he returns the candy to his mouth. Yixing nods and the man takes off his coat to reveal a black, long-sleeved shirt. He removes his earphones, tapping at the screen of his phone before placing it on the table. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”
“Don’t worry.” Yixing says and the man pulls the lollipop out to smile briefly. Yixing blushes.
“I’m Yifan,” he offers a hand and Yixing shakes it, eyeing the beginnings of a neck tattoo. “Zitao’s partner.”
“Ah yes, Zitao told me about you.”
Yifan pulls up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his fully inked arms. Something tugs at Yixing’s stomach.
“Nice sleeves.” he says without thinking, eyes locked onto Yifan’s tattooed arms. This is hot, he’s hot, he thinks.
Yifan seems to be an easy ‘smiler’, peering down at his arms before smiling up at Yixing. He’s adorable too, scratching the back of his neck when he realizes Yixing’s been staring. “Thanks?” he says. “Finished it when I was twenty-one.”
“How old are you now?” Yixing tries, and when Yifan chuckles, he hurriedly continues, “oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, I’m just… Usually this curious.”
“No biggie, I’m twenty-six now.” Yifan says, holding the lollipop between his fingers as his tongue peeks out to swipe at his lips. The smile on his face, Yixing thinks, is outwardly permanent. “But enough about me, is this your art?” Yifan shows the piece of paper with ‘living free’ in neat handwriting.
“That’s it,” Yixing nods. “Is it bad for a first tattoo?”
“Nah, I’ve seen a woman tattooing tribal rays on her ribs. As her first tattoo.” Yifan goes through the table, collecting all the tolls he’ll need for Yixing’s tattoo.
Yixing winces; he’s heard that rib tattoos are the worst. “Did she survive?”
“She made it out alright,” Yifan smiles again, and Yixing thinks he might get used to it. “So, where do you want it?”
“Um. On my wrist?” he gently swings his wrists to illustrate as Yifan pulls his gloves on, the now empty stick of the lollipop secure between his teeth.
“That’s fine.” the tattoo artist pulls the lollipop out, licking his lips once more. Yixing can’t stop his eyes from lingering on the taller guy’s lips. “Put your arm on the rest. It won’t take too long, but you may get tired.”
Yixing complies, making himself more comfortable on the chair. He watches as Yifan holds the machine and tries not to think about how there are needles on that thing. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Nervous?” Yifan’s voice brings him back, his eyes opening and focusing back on the man in front of him.
“A little,” Yixing admits, biting on his lower lip.
“Just relax, I’m going to start.”
Yixing closes his eyes as the familiar buzzing sounds fill the cabin.
Baekhyun is waiting for him outside looking positively bored. He looks up when Yixing approaches clutching his frail wrist. Tossing aside the magazine he was reading, Baekhyun stands up.
“So, how was it?” he asks.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” Yixing shrugs. “Besides, he was very nice.He kept asking if I was in pain or if I needed a break.”
“Oh yeah, the tall brunette with the ponytail and the lollipop?” Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows. “A chunk of something that one is. Did he touch you?”
“Of course he did, stupid.” he jabs a finger at Baekhyun’s ribs and smirks when the other shrinks back and yelps. They walk to the register and Yixing hands over the ticket Yifan had given him before he left. The cashier, a blonde girl wearing too much lipstick, smiles and shows him the bill.
“Yixing?” someone calls out and both Baekhyun and Yixing turn around. It’s the tattoo artist, Yifan, in all his tall, ponytailed glory. He seems hesitant as his hand teeters in Yixing’s direction. “Here.” he offers.
Inspecting the item in his hand, Yixing takes it, a small tube of something called bepanthol. He looks up at Yifan and waits for an explanation.
Yifan clears his throat, “Use this cream on your wrist to help with the healing process. Try not to scratch if it itches and don’t forget to wear sunscreen. Or,” one of the smiles Yixing’s gotten familiar with for the past hour pops up, “wear long sleeves. Don’t expose the wound until it has recovered completely.”
“Oh, ok.” Yixing nods. He doesn’t know what else to say, so an awkward silence floats in between as they gaze at each other. He’s pretty sure Yifan is thinking of something to say, from the way he licks his lips and blink as if his brain is working too hard. Yixing chuckles at the thought. “Thank you.”
“Come back if you have any problems.” Yifan rubs his palms against each other and smiles one last time before bowing slightly and returning to his cabin.
“I don’t know about you,” Baekhyun says, eyes following Yifan’s disappearing figure, “but I’m definitely coming back here.”
✦
“Look at this mess,” Song Qian tuts in disapproval as she delves through Yixing’s desk. “Don’t you ever clean?”
He looks up from the book he’s reading to gaze at what once was his desk. Now it’s just a plain surface where he can dump the shit he brings home from work. His mail is there too. As well as the leftovers of his breakfast. Quirking his mouth downward, Yixing shrugs at his very collected friend.
“Yeah. For visitors.”
Song Qian huffs, throwing one of the many magazines Yixing’s got stashed back onto an aslope pile. “Well, here’s a visitor. Complaining about your trash.”
“You’re not a visitor,” he waves a careless hand and returns to his book. Something major is about to happen. “You live here more than I do. If that’s… Somehow possible.”
“Your house is chaotic, Yixing. This is supposed to be a place for you to…” Yixing can see her arms flailing through his peripheral vision. “I don’t know, find peace when you’re troubled. Perhaps that’s why you can’t move forward.”
He snorts and closes the book with a loud thump. “Oh yeah, I’m stuck in life because of the crap in my apartment.”
“Recent research has showed that it happens. You know you could ask for help. I’m a connoisseur in the art of cleaning and organizing.” he doesn’t need to look to know she’s rolling her pretty eyes lined with kohl.
“You’re just bossy and a huge hater of my lifestyle.” Yixing stands up and walks three steps to get to her, folding his arms across his chest. “But don’t worry. I am too.”
Song Qian gapes in disbelief. “I am not! I love your new tattoo!” she tosses her hair gently. “I’m just worried because I went for a coffee with Baekhyun the other day and he told me about your list--”
“Now you’re going to criticize my list?”
She sighs as if Yixing is a big waste of her time and effort, but steps closer anyway, resting both hands on his shoulders. Song Qian has this motherly look that’s sometimes scary. “Will you quit it? I’m not here to point all the flaws in your life or your goddamned list! I’m just taking interest in it.” As graceful as ever, she walks to the only seat in Yixing’s diminished apartment besides the plastic chair at his desk (that’s now serving as a makeshift bookshelf) - the bed - and sits down. “Will you tell me about your list?”
Yixing stares at her for a while. Sometimes he’s too harsh on her. And maybe it’s because Song Qian is always the first to tell him to cut his crap - which happens a lot. He takes a deep breath and sits beside her.
“I’ve decided to write down all the stuff I really wanted to do, but never had the chance.” He runs both hands through his work-styled hair as if it would wash all weariness of the day off. Yixing can’t quite understand how Song Qian manages to look this lively. “I guess I’m hoping it will give me something, I don’t know what. It’s just…” he sighs. “I’m so fucking tired.”
Song Qian rubs a sympathetic hand against his back as Yixing continues. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt enthusiastic about something. This might be a bad thing, right?” she nods. “I mean, look at you. We do the same thing and it affects us differently. You look pretty satisfied with where you’re going while I’m just this great mess.”
“You’re not a great mess,” Song Qian says. “You’re just lost.”
She gives him this long, understanding look and leans her head on his shoulder. They lie on their backs and stare at the ceiling until Yixing falls asleep.
Yixing’s job has no exciting aspect to it. He has to sit in a cubicle and call people to try and persuade them to use their brand of paper in their offices. Sometimes he gets calls too. And sometimes he uses the papers on his inbox to fold planes. Song Qian strongly disapproves of this practice.
“This is your daily demand, you need these papers.” she says from her adjacent cubicle, hair neatly combed and bangs perfectly trimmed. Yixing smiles at her and pretends to stop.
Only pretends.
Song Qian almost throws her stack of papers at Yixing when a neatly folded paper plane comes whooshing past her five seconds later.
The best thing about work is getting off. Today it feels a little better because they’re going somewhere. Baekhyun and Jongdae are comfortably slouched at the armchairs in the lobby when Yixing and Song Qian appear. They ride to Hongdae in Jongdae’s car.
The band playing at Club Evans is a regular. Yixing hums to some of their melodies as Baekhyun goes on his never-ending tirades about his boss.
“And there’s the clacking sound of her heels, it’s like incoming death,” he takes a sip of his beer, trying to beat the band. “Every fucking morning she comes in and never bothers with greeting her staff. She’s all ‘where’s the report I asked you today at 4AM when I woke up because I’m a workaholic whore that can’t sleep more than 3 hours’.”
“You realize you talk more about her than you talk about yourself?” Jongdae asks.
“She’s a keeper,” Yixing raises his bottle in agreement. “If she can make Baekhyun forget about his infatuation with himself.”
“You’re missing the point here,” Song Qian interjects. “Does she send you messages at 4AM?”
Baekhyun ruffles his hair in seeming agony, huffing and looking at them like he’s too tired to go answering questions. “I’m the one she sends the fucking messages to. Every fucking time, that fucking bitch.”
“Soojung sends me messages at 3AM.” Jongdae shrugs. Baekhyun rolls his eyes.
“Your fiancée is allowed to send you daybreak texts. Your boss isn’t!”
“Maybe you need a list too.” Song Qian suggests, eating some of Jongdae’s ddeokbokki.
Baekhyun ponders, like he’s accepting the idea. “Mine will be titled ‘Ways to Kill My Boss’ because I swear to god I can think of a hundred right now.”
“Speaking of which,” Jongdae turns to Yixing, who’s halfway through the dukbokki. “What’s up next?”
Yixing pulls the list out of his bag. “Dye my hair.” he says confidently. Baekhyun arches his eyebrows and Song Qian laughs.
“Are you serious?” Jongdae chokes.
Yixing nods, “I was thinking orange.”
Placing the bottle on the table loudly, Baekhyun touches his shoulder in reassurance. “We can help.”
{item n. 2}
Pairing: kris/lay
Rating: PG-13
Length: 43,278 words
Summary: Yixing has an eight-step list to change his life and the first thing is to get a tattoo. What’s not on the list, however, is the hot tattoo artist that comes along. (it's so much more than that, really)
A/N: wow. here we are. at last. three months ago i started writing this fic with the goal of reaching 30k and didn't even expect to grow this attached to it. i lived and breathed this for three months and maybe it's crap and boring and not at all what i initially wanted to have, but i'm happy it's done. i did a lot of research on seoul to write some stuff, but do not rely on that. pls forgive me if something feels divergent.
a whole horde of zombie thanks to: gi and hannah for always being there for me. i would never ever get this done without your help and support. i love you.
to yy and chanel an eternity of thanks for betaing, correcting my dumb mistakes and giving me advice.
to cla for all her encouragement (are you proud of me? i actually managed to write this crap) and also for listening to me whine about every aspect of my life. thank you.
and to you, who's thinking about reading this, a good luck.
The cutting sound of someone else's pain pierces right through Yixing's soul. He shudders, an arm linking tightly through Baekhyun's when he remembers he's supposed to go next.
“Scared?” Baekhyun looks down at Yixing’s head on his shoulder, amusement loud in his voice. Of course he’s having fun, the prospect of Yixing’s agony gives him life. “Wanna take off? You still have time.”
Whimpering, Yixing shakes his head (which is actually just rubbing his cheek on Baekhyun’s shoulder, but he makes his point). This is something he needs to do.
To be honest, getting a tattoo wasn’t something that he had needed to do all along, but as of now, it was something that he needed to do. . Ever since he decided to get out of the staleness of his own life. Truth is, Yixing is tired of living. He is tired of his boring job, of coming home to his boring xbox with not enough games because he can’t afford that much with his paycheck. He’s tired of the same Friday nights with the reruns of Friends. It wasn’t until he stopped by Minseok’s newsstand on his way home from work that he realized how stuck he is in this boring circle of life.
“I’m passing the stand over to my brother,” Minseok had said that same day. “I guess he’s hiring someone to look after it.”
Minseok was moving to Beijing. “I love the idea of Beijing, and I wanna see it before I die. I saw myself dying with this job that I hate… I don’t want that. So I guess it’s time to start doing things I really want to do.” The brightness of his eyes had caught Yixing’s attention. They’ve been friends for a while and Yixing can’t remember the last time he’s seen that look on Minseok’s face. He can’t remember the last time he’s looked on a mirror and seen that same look on his face.
So Yixing went past his home and straight to Jongdae’s apartment.
“I lost track of my life,” he announced to his two friends (Baekhyun was there too, as usual) sitting on the couch, worriedly looking up at him as he walked in circles around their tiny living room. “I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“Well, technically you’re ruining my rug with your dirty shoes, take it off!” Jongdae exclaimed and Yixing slowly removed his shoes, before finally hurling the pair towards the front door. Baekhyun scowled as if he was going to retort, but chose to remain silent.
“The point is, I’m stuck!” he’d continued. “I have that stupid job in the company and the only thing I long for the whole day, is coming home to freaking Dead Rising 3!”
Jongdae snorted, “Shitty game.”
“You get it?” Yixing whined, letting his weight fall on the armchair behind him. “I’m twenty-five and stuck! I’m stuck!”
“So claw your way out! Are you going to sit and wait for things to cool down?” Baekhyun replied.
“No, of course not! I made a list of things I want to do and I’m actually doing it all. There are eight items...” he pulls a list out of his pocket and waves the piece of paper at his friends.
“And the first item on the list is ‘get a tattoo’” he looks at his friends and waits for a reaction.
All he gets is Baekhyun’s laughter.
“You’re not going to get a tattoo, Yixing,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach.
1. Get a tattoo
And here they are, at a tattoo studio waiting for Yixing’s turn to get ink on his flesh.
Well, it took him long enough.
“I can’t believe you’re getting a tattoo.” Baekhyun mumbles, pocketing his hands and letting out a loud sigh that shows just how distressed he is.
“I mean it, I’m changing my life.” Yixing says with a determined frown on his face.
The little door to the cabin slams open and a girl rushes out, teary eyed and hand hovering near her newly drawn shoulder. It’s red, puffy and painful looking.
Yixing shivers.
“Yixing?” the artist, someone named Zitao, calls out his name. He’s wearing a black mask with a cat painted in white ink. Yixing thinks it’s cool. Perhaps he should just give up the phrase he had chosen and tattoo that cat on himself.
“Good luck.” Baekhyun says as he walks into the cabin. Yixing smiles and closes the door.
“So, Yixing,” Zitao slides closer to Yixing while on his chair. “I’m not doing your tattoo.”
Yixing frowns. “What?”
“My partner, Yifan, he’s on his way over. He’s doing your tattoo, I have a wedding to attend.” Zitao explains while removing his gloves. Yixing nods.
“Oh, that’s fine. Should I wait here or…?”
“Yeah, he’ll be here in a sec. Your art is here, so you should just tell him where you want it.” Zitao smiles at him, and Yixing thinks he’s cute. He likes cute people.
“Ok, thank you,” he smiles back at him.
Yixing sits on the weird chair when Zitao leaves. He takes a look around, inspecting all the art that has been framed as well as pictures of tattooed people. The customers seem pretty pleased with their pieces, smiling widely at the camera. Yixing wonders if they would take his picture too.
He’s considering walking over to the table with the several containers of paint when the door opens. He adjusts on the chair and looks up at the newcomer.
“Zhang Yixing?” asks a tall, black-haired man with his long bangs tied back into a loose ponytail. The man pulls a lollipop out of his mouth with a pop, licking his lips as he returns the candy to his mouth. Yixing nods and the man takes off his coat to reveal a black, long-sleeved shirt. He removes his earphones, tapping at the screen of his phone before placing it on the table. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”
“Don’t worry.” Yixing says and the man pulls the lollipop out to smile briefly. Yixing blushes.
“I’m Yifan,” he offers a hand and Yixing shakes it, eyeing the beginnings of a neck tattoo. “Zitao’s partner.”
“Ah yes, Zitao told me about you.”
Yifan pulls up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his fully inked arms. Something tugs at Yixing’s stomach.
“Nice sleeves.” he says without thinking, eyes locked onto Yifan’s tattooed arms. This is hot, he’s hot, he thinks.
Yifan seems to be an easy ‘smiler’, peering down at his arms before smiling up at Yixing. He’s adorable too, scratching the back of his neck when he realizes Yixing’s been staring. “Thanks?” he says. “Finished it when I was twenty-one.”
“How old are you now?” Yixing tries, and when Yifan chuckles, he hurriedly continues, “oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, I’m just… Usually this curious.”
“No biggie, I’m twenty-six now.” Yifan says, holding the lollipop between his fingers as his tongue peeks out to swipe at his lips. The smile on his face, Yixing thinks, is outwardly permanent. “But enough about me, is this your art?” Yifan shows the piece of paper with ‘living free’ in neat handwriting.
“That’s it,” Yixing nods. “Is it bad for a first tattoo?”
“Nah, I’ve seen a woman tattooing tribal rays on her ribs. As her first tattoo.” Yifan goes through the table, collecting all the tolls he’ll need for Yixing’s tattoo.
Yixing winces; he’s heard that rib tattoos are the worst. “Did she survive?”
“She made it out alright,” Yifan smiles again, and Yixing thinks he might get used to it. “So, where do you want it?”
“Um. On my wrist?” he gently swings his wrists to illustrate as Yifan pulls his gloves on, the now empty stick of the lollipop secure between his teeth.
“That’s fine.” the tattoo artist pulls the lollipop out, licking his lips once more. Yixing can’t stop his eyes from lingering on the taller guy’s lips. “Put your arm on the rest. It won’t take too long, but you may get tired.”
Yixing complies, making himself more comfortable on the chair. He watches as Yifan holds the machine and tries not to think about how there are needles on that thing. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Nervous?” Yifan’s voice brings him back, his eyes opening and focusing back on the man in front of him.
“A little,” Yixing admits, biting on his lower lip.
“Just relax, I’m going to start.”
Yixing closes his eyes as the familiar buzzing sounds fill the cabin.
Baekhyun is waiting for him outside looking positively bored. He looks up when Yixing approaches clutching his frail wrist. Tossing aside the magazine he was reading, Baekhyun stands up.
“So, how was it?” he asks.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” Yixing shrugs. “Besides, he was very nice.He kept asking if I was in pain or if I needed a break.”
“Oh yeah, the tall brunette with the ponytail and the lollipop?” Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows. “A chunk of something that one is. Did he touch you?”
“Of course he did, stupid.” he jabs a finger at Baekhyun’s ribs and smirks when the other shrinks back and yelps. They walk to the register and Yixing hands over the ticket Yifan had given him before he left. The cashier, a blonde girl wearing too much lipstick, smiles and shows him the bill.
“Yixing?” someone calls out and both Baekhyun and Yixing turn around. It’s the tattoo artist, Yifan, in all his tall, ponytailed glory. He seems hesitant as his hand teeters in Yixing’s direction. “Here.” he offers.
Inspecting the item in his hand, Yixing takes it, a small tube of something called bepanthol. He looks up at Yifan and waits for an explanation.
Yifan clears his throat, “Use this cream on your wrist to help with the healing process. Try not to scratch if it itches and don’t forget to wear sunscreen. Or,” one of the smiles Yixing’s gotten familiar with for the past hour pops up, “wear long sleeves. Don’t expose the wound until it has recovered completely.”
“Oh, ok.” Yixing nods. He doesn’t know what else to say, so an awkward silence floats in between as they gaze at each other. He’s pretty sure Yifan is thinking of something to say, from the way he licks his lips and blink as if his brain is working too hard. Yixing chuckles at the thought. “Thank you.”
“Come back if you have any problems.” Yifan rubs his palms against each other and smiles one last time before bowing slightly and returning to his cabin.
“I don’t know about you,” Baekhyun says, eyes following Yifan’s disappearing figure, “but I’m definitely coming back here.”
✦
“Look at this mess,” Song Qian tuts in disapproval as she delves through Yixing’s desk. “Don’t you ever clean?”
He looks up from the book he’s reading to gaze at what once was his desk. Now it’s just a plain surface where he can dump the shit he brings home from work. His mail is there too. As well as the leftovers of his breakfast. Quirking his mouth downward, Yixing shrugs at his very collected friend.
“Yeah. For visitors.”
Song Qian huffs, throwing one of the many magazines Yixing’s got stashed back onto an aslope pile. “Well, here’s a visitor. Complaining about your trash.”
“You’re not a visitor,” he waves a careless hand and returns to his book. Something major is about to happen. “You live here more than I do. If that’s… Somehow possible.”
“Your house is chaotic, Yixing. This is supposed to be a place for you to…” Yixing can see her arms flailing through his peripheral vision. “I don’t know, find peace when you’re troubled. Perhaps that’s why you can’t move forward.”
He snorts and closes the book with a loud thump. “Oh yeah, I’m stuck in life because of the crap in my apartment.”
“Recent research has showed that it happens. You know you could ask for help. I’m a connoisseur in the art of cleaning and organizing.” he doesn’t need to look to know she’s rolling her pretty eyes lined with kohl.
“You’re just bossy and a huge hater of my lifestyle.” Yixing stands up and walks three steps to get to her, folding his arms across his chest. “But don’t worry. I am too.”
Song Qian gapes in disbelief. “I am not! I love your new tattoo!” she tosses her hair gently. “I’m just worried because I went for a coffee with Baekhyun the other day and he told me about your list--”
“Now you’re going to criticize my list?”
She sighs as if Yixing is a big waste of her time and effort, but steps closer anyway, resting both hands on his shoulders. Song Qian has this motherly look that’s sometimes scary. “Will you quit it? I’m not here to point all the flaws in your life or your goddamned list! I’m just taking interest in it.” As graceful as ever, she walks to the only seat in Yixing’s diminished apartment besides the plastic chair at his desk (that’s now serving as a makeshift bookshelf) - the bed - and sits down. “Will you tell me about your list?”
Yixing stares at her for a while. Sometimes he’s too harsh on her. And maybe it’s because Song Qian is always the first to tell him to cut his crap - which happens a lot. He takes a deep breath and sits beside her.
“I’ve decided to write down all the stuff I really wanted to do, but never had the chance.” He runs both hands through his work-styled hair as if it would wash all weariness of the day off. Yixing can’t quite understand how Song Qian manages to look this lively. “I guess I’m hoping it will give me something, I don’t know what. It’s just…” he sighs. “I’m so fucking tired.”
Song Qian rubs a sympathetic hand against his back as Yixing continues. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt enthusiastic about something. This might be a bad thing, right?” she nods. “I mean, look at you. We do the same thing and it affects us differently. You look pretty satisfied with where you’re going while I’m just this great mess.”
“You’re not a great mess,” Song Qian says. “You’re just lost.”
She gives him this long, understanding look and leans her head on his shoulder. They lie on their backs and stare at the ceiling until Yixing falls asleep.
Yixing’s job has no exciting aspect to it. He has to sit in a cubicle and call people to try and persuade them to use their brand of paper in their offices. Sometimes he gets calls too. And sometimes he uses the papers on his inbox to fold planes. Song Qian strongly disapproves of this practice.
“This is your daily demand, you need these papers.” she says from her adjacent cubicle, hair neatly combed and bangs perfectly trimmed. Yixing smiles at her and pretends to stop.
Only pretends.
Song Qian almost throws her stack of papers at Yixing when a neatly folded paper plane comes whooshing past her five seconds later.
The best thing about work is getting off. Today it feels a little better because they’re going somewhere. Baekhyun and Jongdae are comfortably slouched at the armchairs in the lobby when Yixing and Song Qian appear. They ride to Hongdae in Jongdae’s car.
The band playing at Club Evans is a regular. Yixing hums to some of their melodies as Baekhyun goes on his never-ending tirades about his boss.
“And there’s the clacking sound of her heels, it’s like incoming death,” he takes a sip of his beer, trying to beat the band. “Every fucking morning she comes in and never bothers with greeting her staff. She’s all ‘where’s the report I asked you today at 4AM when I woke up because I’m a workaholic whore that can’t sleep more than 3 hours’.”
“You realize you talk more about her than you talk about yourself?” Jongdae asks.
“She’s a keeper,” Yixing raises his bottle in agreement. “If she can make Baekhyun forget about his infatuation with himself.”
“You’re missing the point here,” Song Qian interjects. “Does she send you messages at 4AM?”
Baekhyun ruffles his hair in seeming agony, huffing and looking at them like he’s too tired to go answering questions. “I’m the one she sends the fucking messages to. Every fucking time, that fucking bitch.”
“Soojung sends me messages at 3AM.” Jongdae shrugs. Baekhyun rolls his eyes.
“Your fiancée is allowed to send you daybreak texts. Your boss isn’t!”
“Maybe you need a list too.” Song Qian suggests, eating some of Jongdae’s ddeokbokki.
Baekhyun ponders, like he’s accepting the idea. “Mine will be titled ‘Ways to Kill My Boss’ because I swear to god I can think of a hundred right now.”
“Speaking of which,” Jongdae turns to Yixing, who’s halfway through the dukbokki. “What’s up next?”
Yixing pulls the list out of his bag. “Dye my hair.” he says confidently. Baekhyun arches his eyebrows and Song Qian laughs.
“Are you serious?” Jongdae chokes.
Yixing nods, “I was thinking orange.”
Placing the bottle on the table loudly, Baekhyun touches his shoulder in reassurance. “We can help.”
{item n. 2}