Everything About Living Free [5/8]
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)
{item n. 4}
5. Visit a haunted house
Soojung wakes up craving for cupcakes (red velvet cupcakes) and of course Yixing is the one for the job. Fortunately, it’s a Sunday, and Jongdae lives in Seocho, so it’s not a far ride from Yixing’s place. Song Qian offers to help with the baking, which is definitely not a good thing, but she’s Yixing’s best friend and he just can’t go against her kryptonian fist. He just doesn’t get how someone so thin can have such a strong punch.
She brings flour (Yixing doesn't know why) and helps by separating the ingredients. Peter Parker keeps meowing and trying to nose through the bowls filled with sugar, so Yixing just gives him kitty treats as a distraction. He mixes the batter really fast, and as soon as the cupcakes are in the oven, Song Qian insists to be assisted as she makes the vanilla cream cheese frosting. It works well, and sooner than expected, they’re boarding a cab (since it’s a 6 minute ride, they can afford it).
Seocho-gu is a great area, great apartment buildings (like the one Jongdae and Soojung live). Of course, to Soojung, any place is a dungeon, but the apartment is actually nice. It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms, an actual kitchen and a spacious living room. Their kid will love running around. Maybe Soojung will not like it that much.
The minute they step inside, a famished pregnant lady appears, plucks what she thinks is a box of cupcakes from Song Qian’s hands and runs back into the apartment. Yixing gapes.
“Oh… My god. What just happened?” Song Qian drops her purse and coat on the couch and follows Soojung into the kitchen.
Yixing just walks carefully, and each step further in, the apartment seems bigger. “This living room is definitely bigger.”
“You say that everytime you come over.” Jongdae says from his spot on the couch next to Baekhyun. “Hey, thanks for baking her those things. I’ve been running errands for her crazy desires all week.”
“Watching you act so pathetically makes me reconsider having kids.” Baekhyun says wistfully.
“No one would want to have a kid with you.” Song Qian yells from the bedroom. Yixing hears the padding of her bare feet and then she sits in front of Yixing on the floor. “I forgot to ask you, how was it with Mr. Handsome and his friends last night?”
He sighs, “Great.” pause. Another sigh. “They told me Yifan is into me,” and cue gasps.
Baekhyun gasps. “They just outed him like that?”
“I think that was mostly a warning,” he considers the way Luhan was squinting at him. “They were like ‘if you don’t mean anything then get out of his life’.”
“Aw, so protective,” Song Qian coos. “Such great friends.”
“All of them are Chinese. No, wait,” he stops. “There’s a Korean guy, but he tries to speak some Chinese. It’s cute.”
“Yeah, but did Mr. Handsome say anything? About you?” Jongdae asks.
“No. He never does. Should I be worried?”
Song Qian frowns, shaking her head. “No, give him some time. Maybe he’s not a rusher.”
“I asked him to come to the haunted house though,” Yixing adds and everyone gapes at him. “What?”
“Great move, buddy.” Jongdae says. “Speaking of which, do you know when you’re doing this haunted house thing?”
Yixing shakes his head. “I left it up to him. He’ll pick the house and everything.” he shrugs. “The sole thought of having to walk into one of those places creeps the hell outta me. I want this to be a quick experience.”
“Isn’t this cheating?” Baekhyun considers, fingers tapping his chin. “I mean, isn’t overcoming yourself the whole purpose of this list of yours? Achieving stuff you’ve been wanting to achieve for a while?”
“This is not cheating, this is getting help.” Yixing explains wisely.
“Like we helped you with the hair, right?” Song Qian assumes enthusiastically. Yixing snorts.
“That was butting in.”
A heated discussion about Yixing’s real intentions is interrupted by Soojung’s loud wail coming from the kitchen. Jongdae widens his eyes and stands up from the couch, getting ready to come in his wife’s rescue if needed. It’s not needed, though, as Soojung waltzes into the living room, mouth covered in cream cheese frosting and t-shirt sprinkled with red crumbs.
“Oh my god!” she cries. “This is so good, so so delicious oh my god Yixing! It might be the best cupcake I’ve ever eaten! Why aren’t you cooking for me on a daily basis?”
He squints and wonders if she’s serious. What’s he thinking, of course she is. It’s Soojung. “Because I’m not your servant?”
She hums and licks her fingers. “You should consider being my personal cook.”
“We can’t afford a personal cook,” Jongdae barks. “And your parents might be speaking to us again, but they refuse to pay for your luxuries.”
Yixing waves his hands in the air and shakes his head. “I’m not a good cook. I can get by, but--”
“He bakes.” Song Qian says.
Another loud wail erupts and everyone turns to find Baekhyun, both hands cradling a half-eaten red velvet cupcake. “This is so good!”
“If we discard Soojung’s selfishness,” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “We have the fact that you’re a great baker. You should find a way to include this on your list or something.”
Yixing frowns. “How? ‘Be a Great Baker’?”
“No! Make something out of it.” Jongdae places a hand on his shoulder and meets Yixing’s eyes.
“Start a cupcake business or something.”
“It’s not that easy,” he says shaking his head.
“He’s right, Yixing.” Baekhyun says through a mouth-full of cupcake. “You’re too good at this. Maybe make a few samples and distribute to collect the general opinion on your baking. I could taste them for you.”
Song Qian smacks his head, earning a yelp a coughing attack. “I’ve been trying to wrap his head around this cupcake business idea for so long, I might get old before he does it.”
Yixing sighs. There is, indeed, an item on his list about work. And it’s not as if he’s never considered opening his own business. (He has considered everything within his reach to escape the paper company, to be honest), but it’s not that simple. He loves baking, it’s therapeutical. He likes when people compliment his baking, and he likes when people eat the stuff he bakes. It’s just… He never thought about baking as his full-time occupation.
“Think about it, man.” Jongdae insists, and Yixing thinks he might.
The gentleman over the phone doesn’t sound thrilled in hearing the reasons why he should change the brand of paper in his office.
“Ballpoint and gel pens have a perfect slide, and they dry faster as well.” Yixing explains. “We can add bank paper to your order as a bonus, and you’ll notice how long it will last. It’s high quality paper, sir. Your great-grandchildren will still be able to handle the documents you print with our product.”
The man (Mr. Kang), snorts. “Why should I use a paper that lasts forever?”
Yixing stops. He thinks, and sighs. The man must have heard it in his tone, the complete disregard for the product he’s trying to sell. The fact is, Yixing doesn’t believe in bond paper, he never stopped to think about paper as something to be taken seriously. There’s just this script in front of him that’s he’s supposed to read to people he calls and they whether say yes or no. It’s not meant to be something profound. “You’re right sir,” he says hoping that Mr. Kang hears the defeat in his voice. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Good night.” Mr. Kang hangs up without a retort.
Song Qian must have been lurking around; as soon as Yixing hooks the phone, she swivels her chair towards him.
“What are they trying to advertise with ‘Our Paper Lasts Longer’? The rendition of planet earth?” he asks indignantly, rubbing his palms on his face. He’s tired. So tired.
Song Qian remains silent for a while, but Yixing can feel her attentive eyes following his movements. “Did you think about what we talked about last sunday? The cupcake thing?”
“No, I didn’t.” he answers promptly.
“Yixing,” she sighs. “You’re living a moment where changes are welcome. You hate your job, it’s stressful and tiresome. Don’t you think that this is a good opportunity for you to do something else?”
“Baking cupcakes?”
“If it’s not baking cupcakes, it’s something else. Something that you don’t hate with the intensity of a thousand burning suns.” she tosses her hair and gives him a look before graciously swiveling her chair back to her own cubicle.
✦
I’m serious, she’s wearing orange pants.
Yixing smiles at his phone before lifting his head to check that he isn’t walking into a lampost before he looks down at his phone again and types, well it’s her choice, you can’t damn the woman for liking bright colors.
it’s like you and the stupid name you’ve given your hamster.
You take that back. Right now.
i will in a few minutes. Pushing the cafe door open with his body, Yixing pockets his phone and searches the place for a guy in the red beanie. Yifan is sitting at a table at the end of the store, a dumb smile on his face as he looks down at his phone. Yixing can’t hold back the grin.
“I take that back.” he says, pulling a chair and flopping down.
Yifan snaps his head up and, surprisingly, his smile stretches further. “Good. Don’t ever speak ill of my beloved Toy, ok?”
“Got it,” he leans on the table, both arms over it. “So, what are you getting us?”
Yifan snorts a laugh, “So I’m paying?”
“Sure you are.” he shrugs. “I’ll make it easier for you, I’ll have a gingerbread latte.”
“They don’t even sell these here, they’re seasonal.”
“Then I’ll have a caramel latte.”
Yifan sighs and orders. Yixing can tell he’s not really pissed by the way his lips tug the slightest bit upwards. He looks so good in a beanie; adorable. And the long sleeved dark green shirt he’s wearing compliments his… infuriatingly handsome self.
“So,” Yixing says after the waitress leaves. “Show me the goods.”
Fidgeting a bit with the zipper, Yifan pulls a sketchbook from his backpack (very stylish, Yixing notes; leather). He opens it on a specific page and hands it over. “I’ve been drawing these for the past few days. There’s a tattoo convention coming up, in April, and we’re getting a stand, Zitao and I.” He scratches the back of his neck. “We’re trying to come up with new stuff. Tao’s doing some stuff with clocks and cutouts. I’m doing…”
“Watercolor,” Yixing nods as he lets the pads of his fingers wander over the pages covered in watercolor paintings of all kinds. Skulls, pretty ladies, cars, animals, geometric forms. Yifan is good. Better than he thought. A real artist. “These are amazing.”
“Thanks, but,” the taller shakes his head, reaching up to adjust his beanie. “The thing is, I’m unsure about the watercolor thing because it’s not news anymore. Anyone can do watercolor, and we want to stand out. Do something new.”
“Is that why you’re nervous?”
“The convention is right around the corner, and we’re still creating. I don’t know if we’ll be able to do it.”
The last words come out almost like a whisper. Yifan props his elbows on the table and laces his fingers, covering his mouth with them. He looks so contemplative, so seriously worried that Yixing wishes he could come up with the craziest tattoo idea to help him out. Instead, he places the sketchbook on the table and reaches for Yifan’s hands clasped together.
“Of course you will,” he says, thumb lightly caressing Yifan’s fingers. “Watercolor is completely unrelated to tattoos, and to be honest, yours are awesome. It would be a shame to waste all this.”
There’s a moment in which Yixing wonders if Yifan heard any word he said. The elder gazes at him intently, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. It takes him a moment to react, biting on his lower lip and disentangling his fingers so they can close around Yixing’s hand. It’s wonderful how Yifan’s face slowly lights up. Yixing wants to reach for his ear and maybe do something to mask the undeniable blush on his face.
“You think so?” Yifan’s voice is lower when he asks, a bit playful as well. “Can I watercolor you?”
Yixing laughs (too loud, maybe). “Yeah, um, I don’t know if I’m ready for another tattoo.”
“I’ll do it for free,” the other says. “Just because I like you so much.”
Yifan puts his other hand into the hold, and it’s really frustrating because Yixing is dying to cover his face, to hide himself somehow, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to pull his hands free. Yifan’s fingers are gentle, and soft, and warm, and they’ve never held each other’s hands like this before. This feels like a milestone.
“So,” Yixing clears his throat. “Did you find a location?”
“A what?”
“For the haunted house. A location.”
Yifan widens his eyes and his mouth forms a little ‘o’. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Are you free tomorrow night?”
Yixing shivers. “At night?” he whines.
“Why, do you wanna visit a haunted place during the day? You gotta do that at night, dude!” Yifan chuckles, and his fingers skate from Yixing’s hands to his arm. It’s weird how close he feels, even with a round table between them.
“I’m free tomorrow.” Yixing tilts his head. “During the day.”
When Yifan withdraws his hands, Yixing almost lets out a sound in protest. He manages to swallow it down.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” he says, without a single clue of how much Yixing wants him to.
Yixing calls his mother the afternoon before meeting Yifan. She had good laugh when Yixing told her about the haunted house. Said that Mei Ling’s son would have pulled that one off easily, though is hard to do so when one’s in jail (Yixing reminds her). He talks to his grandparents for a bit; his grandfather sounds very excited when talking to him. He tells him the latest about Ruki, who’s now restricted from entering garden because of his newly-acquired taste for the flowers. Yixing’s grandmother says she wants to give the dog up, and he can hear his grandfather’s indignant yell somewhere not far from the phone. He laughs and feels light. Talking to his family is always detoxing.
However, as the morning advances, Yixing tenses up all over again. Peter Parker nips at his toes, gently clawing Yixing’s calves, and he even tries to play with his kitten for a while, but feels too anxious and suddenly moving around seems like a terrible idea. Peter Parker can only meow in annoyance.
When Yifan calls to say he’s picking Yixing up in less than ten minutes, he tries not to freak out. Sits on his bed and pets his cat, working really hard in pushing all the bad thoughts away -- and also the miscalculated ones that make this all seem like a date if not for the spooky part.
Yixing receives a text and grabs his belongings, locking his house and climbing down the stairs. Yifan is waiting for him and is looking ridiculously good for someone who’s about to witness the most traumatic experience in Yixing’s life. His hair is tied in a half ponytail -- if only he knew how much Yixing loves half ponytails.
“Hey,” he smiles. “Ready?”
Yixing inhales and nods. “I hope I am. So, where are we going?” he looks past Yifan and into the cab that’s waiting for them.
“Gyeonggi-do,” Yifan answers, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched. “There’s this really freaky place…”
He doesn’t even need to finish the sentence. Yixing knows what he’s talking about. His hands start sweating and his face is probably a mess, because next thing Yifan is approaching him with this worried look, touching his shoulder.
“It’s fine, this is what you want, right?” the taller nods in reassurance. “I’m here, that’s fine. Besides, we have the advantage of daylight.”
“This is the psychiatric place, isn’t it?” Yixing trembles, “I heard something awful happened there,” rubbing his palms together, Yixing frowns at the ground and mentally curses himself for being such a pussy. This is supposed to be a turning point.
“It’s not that terrifying,” Yifan squeezes his shoulder and slides his arm around Yixing’s shoulder. It’s only Yifan’s arm on his shoulder, but it almost feels like it’s a rope tightly wrapped around Yixing’s heart, making it falter and ache agonizingly. He’s just not sure if he’s ready for this. “Come on.”
The drive to Gyeonggi is easy enough, takes 40 minutes to reach Gwangju and the taxi driver bids them farewell with wide eyes. Yixing knows better than to hang on that. However, getting to the Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital is something else entirely. They have to go up a mountain and take a path amongst woods and insects, because apparently direct access to the place is blocked (or covered by bushes from years of inactivity). Once they get there, it doesn’t even look that scary, and that’s exactly the problem. Yixing spends seven minutes just staring at it, wondering if he should have gone for changing his soap brand instead of the haunted place thing. Suddenly, fingers entwine with his and lightly squeeze his hand. He looks up to his side finding Yifan next to him, a serene look on his face and eyes not diverting from Yixing for a second.
“Are we doing this?” he asks.
A wave of confidence washes over him and suddenly, Yixing feels like he’s ready. So he nods and looks ahead. “I’m ready.”
There are tree branches and dead leaves scattered all over the place, a few rocks and pieces of the building that’s starting to crumble. They enter the building through a grid that’s been torn down, and inside is way worse than the outside. The main hallway is bright enough with light coming from the four windows, but there’s dirt everywhere. Dirt, and old objects Yixing doesn’t pay much attention to. Yifan gently tugs his hand.
“The main entrance is the other way around, we can’t get to the corridors here.” he says and pulls Yixing outside. They circle the building and get to a large staircase -- the main entrance. However, the breach in the gate is just a small square on the ground. “We have to crouch.”
Yifan goes first, crawling through the gap and entering the building before Yixing does the same. He offers his hand to help Yixing stand up, and the minute they’re both standing, their hands are back together. Running his thumb over the veins on Yifan’s wrist, he can feel the light pulse. Yixing sighs, wondering if Yifan can feel his pulse too.
Inside is a mess. Almost all windows have pieces of cloth hanging that’s supposedly what’s left of curtains, and someone wrote on a wall ‘I’m scared as fuck :)’. Yixing clings to Yifan’s arm, resting his cheek on his shoulder because if something comes for them, he’ll be the first for sure. He just hopes Yifan is enough protection.
“I don’t understand why the smiley face,” Yifan says as they stare at the scribbled wall. “Shouldn’t it be a sad face?”
“This person was here one day after halloween,” Yixing notes the date right below the message and the person’s name. He’s not sure if it’s a girl or a boy. “Do you think they were here alone?”
Yifan shrugs and moves on, leading them to a corridor that looks endless in the darkness. Yixing’s heart beats faster as they walk over layers of dust and pieces of concrete, and some rooms are so wrecked they can’t even go inside, but in Yixing’s opinion, the ones they can see the beds and torn mattresses are the worst.
Something is starting to bother him, maybe because how some rooms are similar such that they have been burnt, as if someone had gone from one to another setting fire to the mattresses and furniture. His breathing hitches when they get to a staircase that is filled with footprints on the walls.
“What the fuck?” Yifan whispers.
“I-I don’t wanna go upstairs.” Yixing falters, arms tightening around Yifan’s to refrain him from taking another step. He’s not going upstairs. “Please, let’s go back? I’m starting to get scared.”
“But that’s when it gets fun?” Yifan looks down at him. Yixing can’t bring himself to look up, eyes locked on the dirt covering the glass floor. “Hey? Are you ok?”
“No, I wanna go back. Please, let’s go back?”
The tremble in his voice probably alarms Yifan, and next thing he knows, they’re turning around and nearly running out of the building.
Yixing doesn’t even realize he is holding his breath until he crawls out and inhals deeply and loudly. Yifan brings both his hands to his cheeks, lifting Yixing’s face up for inspection. He looks genuinely worried.
“Yixing? Are you ok?”
Nodding, Yixing grabs Yifan’s arm. He blinks a few times and takes in all the wood surrounding the place; it looks too much like something could be lurking in there.
“Let’s go back to the road, please?” he asks. When Yifan’s hands slide off his face and laces their hands once more, Yixing notices that, apparently, Yifan has been holding his breath as well.
Of all items in his list, the haunted house was definitely the one he didn’t think through, so Yixing thinks he deserves alcohol to make up for his own mess up. They buy some booze on their way back to Yifan’s apartment and dump their tired bodies on the couch, staring dazedly at the dead, black screen of the TV probably wondering when they’re supposed to start drinking.
Yifan makes the decision, standing up and going through his cupboard in search for glasses and something to open all the soju bottles they bought. Yixing watches him open and close cupboard doors with attentive eyes, taking in rogue strands of hair that fall into his eyes and the way his fingers absentmindedly pushes it to the back of his ear. Yixing watches how his mouth keeps parted all the time he’s looking for the stuff they need, and how he sometimes closes it to take a deep breath. He can’t look away. His arms still feel warm from Yifan’s hands and Yifan’s body pressing close to his on the ride back to Seoul. The taller held him so close, hands ever-so-naturally coming to caress Yixing’s own. Sometimes, through his peripheral vision, Yixing would catch him staring.
They drink in silence for a while, enjoying the light breeze that comes through the balcony, blowing on their stretched out feet on the floor. One, two, three bottles of soju later, Yixing talks about Peter Parker. He also talks about his family, and his grandmother being mad with the dog for eating their flowers. Yifan laughs and talks about his family, about his mother that’s around the world with someone filthy rich, but never fails in giving him a daily call.
“Sometimes I get calls from Cairo.” he mentions, sipping on his cup. Yixing follows the movements of his lips, opening then closing around the rim of the glass. “Sometimes she texts me from Rio, sometimes she sends a postcard from Alaska. I’m used to never breathing the same air as my mother.”
Yixing licks his lips, “They don’t have a permanent location? Like… A real house?”
“Beijing,” Yifan swallows. Yixing catches on that too. “But they’re never there.”
“So basically, you can never contact your mother?”
“No, we skype. She’s always connected and she calls me everyday.” he pours both of them full cups and gulps his in one go. His face is starting to get a little color and it’s so adorable Yixing wants to glomp him.
Probably because he’s met with no answer, Yifan turns his face to Yixing and sighs. They sit there, side by side in silence for a while. Yixing’s not sure if it’s the weight of Yifan’s eyes or the alcohol, but he’s starting to feel a little dizzy.
“I’m dizzy,” he announces, hand cradling his temple.
“Wanna go upstairs?” Yifan points his thumb up. “The bed is really clean and comfy, I changed the sheets this morning.”
The thought of lying in Yifan’s bed is mildly baffling, but he would never reject the offer.
Yifan helps him on the stairs and lets go just in time for him to fall on the bed, and damn he was right. Yixing’s body falls onto the mattress with a moan. “Oh my god,” he breathes and Yifan laughs, lying down next to him. “Best mattress ever.”
“The sheets smell good, right?” Yifan asks, lying on his side. Yixing mimics his action, resting his head on his palms.
“I think you smell better.” he blurts. Yifan chuckles, pink coloring his cheeks as he slightly ducks his head -- probably to hide his face --, and looks up at Yixing from behind his lashes. There were times in which Yixing’s wanted to kiss him, but nothing compared to now. Yifan’s hair is tied up in a messy bun, so his neck is completely exposed and it makes Yixing want to scoot closer, fist his shirt and press careful wet kisses onto his skin.
“I climbed a mountain, I walked into an abandoned hospital, I drank alcohol,” Yifan says in amusement. His fingers touch his lips and it’s so distracting. “I stink.”
Once Yixing manages to move his eyes from Yifan’s mouth, he answers, “I don’t think you do.”
Yifan just stares in silence, eyes trailing from Yixing’s face to his hands and fingers coming to lace with his in a weird angle, but it really doesn’t matter. What it matters is that Yixing’s heart is beating too fast, and he hopes Yifan knows what kind of effect he causes Yixing’s heart to have.
“Did you take me to that horrible place just to get me in your bed?” he blinks, but his eyelids stuck. He’s so tired.
Yifan laughs, but doesn’t answer. He does move closer, and his hand, his warm hand touches Yixing’s neck, thumb soothing across the smooth skin. Yixing wants to be able to open his eyes, he really wants to, but his eyelids are too heavy. He feels heavy. Before he knows there’s breathing on his mouth, and a nose bumping on his. The only strength left in his body manifests when Yifan kisses him, soft lips closing around his, tasting him. Yixing balls his hand on the collar of Yifan’s shirt, tugs him closer ignoring all fluttering and tingling that takes place in his stomach. Yifan wraps an arm around his waist, his hand settling on Yixing’s lower back, and he wonders when they should stop kissing. If they should.
Yixing is used to waking up early on a Sunday. What seems odd to him is waking up somewhere other than his own diminished space with his cat resting somewhere not far from his head. However, after a second glance around, Yixing recognizes where he is. It’s Yifan’s apartment, his bedroom upstairs with the new, clean sheets and that scent he’s learned to associate with Yifan. Yixing soothes the mattress absentmindedly and turns to his left, finding the spot that’s supposed to be occupied by a person empty.
He hears noises downstairs and hops off the bed, patting his pocket and finding his cellphone completely neglected in his pants. It’s only 6AM. Yixing walks down the stairs, immediately locating Yifan in the balcony, sitting on the floor with a cage between his open legs. He walks up carefully, and suddenly, his mind is filled with all kinds of thoughts about the previous day. The haunted house, and Yifan’s arms around him in the cab. Yifan’s eyes on him when they were drinking on the couch, Yifan’s lips on his.
Maybe Yixing should just get himself together and leave. Perhaps it was just a drunk press of lips, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything. He’s almost turning around when Yifan’s deep voice fills the air.
“Good morning,” he says. “How do you feel?”
How do you feel? He feels a lot. A lot of things that actually turn out to be confusing.
“Fine.” he answers instead, stretching his lips into a generic smile. “You?”
“My head hurts a little, but I’m ok.” he points to the cage between his legs. “Toy’s house needed a swipe though.”
Yixing hums and nods. “Hey, I’m taking off ok?”
Yifan frowns visibly, taken aback. “What? But I cooked breakfast.”
A tingle that resembles last night’s incessant tingles and flutterings too much runs down to settle in Yixing’s stomach. “You did?”
“Of course. Let me just finish up over here and we can eat.”
It doesn’t take long for him to finish the cage. In fact, Yixing thinks he just stopped right in the middle of whatever he was doing with Toy’s hamster ball and threw everything back in the cage. The breakfast is fried rice (Yixing is somewhat surprised by how it tastes so good), they eat comfortably by the kitchen counter. Yixing has lost count of how many times he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking about what happened last night, although he’s curious to know why Yifan kissed him, and if he has any plans of doing it again.
“So, another item checked.” Yifan says after a few silent minutes. “What’s next?”
Yixing sighs in relief for having something to talk about instead of awkwardly watching the other. “To have a star named. Or a galaxy.”
Yifan gasps, “Wow, that’s actually really cool.” he says. “How are you doing that?”
“I’ll have to look it up,” he answers. “But I’m pretty sure there’s a website that does that stuff.”
“You can trust this sort of websites?”
“Considering that stars don’t actually have names, I guess you can pay to give a bunch of numbers a title,” he shrugs, eating what’s left of his fried rice.
“Oh…” Yifan hums, eyes vague and distant. Yixing frowns, placing his chopsticks on top of his bowl and standing up.
“Thank you for breakfast. I should head home now.”
Yifan’s head snaps toward him. “Wait! Are you leaving already? It’s too soon.”
“Yeah,” Yixing scratches the back of his ear. “I have to bake a few cupcakes. Song Qian blabbered to some girls at work about my stuff and they want to try.”
“So you’re baking as soon as you get home?” The taller’s eyes are inquisitive, as if something depends on Yixing’s answer. Makes him kinda nervous.
“Well… Yeah. Is that a problem?”
He shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Nope. I’m just curious about your cupcakes.”
“I can save you some if you want.”
“Would you really?” Yifan’s eyes are uncharacteristically sparkly and his smile is adorably gummy. Yixing can’t help but smile as well.
“Of course. Can you meet tomorrow? I have an hour and half of break before noon.”
“My shift at the studio is at two, so we can meet before that,” Yifan nods. “I can come to the studio earlier.”
“Sounds great.” Yixing pats his hair down. He’s almost sure he looks like Chucky with his orange hair pointing to all directions. Yifan probably notices his struggle, because he chuckles and jogs to the stairs, walking up quickly and returning with a black, leather snapback. He adjusts it on Yixing’s head and blinks down at him.
“Cute.” says, index finger poking Yixing in the cheek, precisely on his dimple. He startles, warmness spreading all over his face; his ears burn annoyingly and all he wants is to reach and scratch, but he’s seemingly frozen. “You can give it back to me tomorrow.”
Yixing grunts. It’s supposed to be a positive answer. Yifan chuckles and caresses his neck. Yixing realizes he’s so used to the pads of Yifan’s fingers on his neck that it doesn’t even tickle anymore. It’s only pleasant.
“See you tomorrow.” he says. All Yixing knows how to do is to nod so he does so and escapes the loft as soon as he can.
{item n. 6}
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)
{item n. 4}
5. Visit a haunted house
Soojung wakes up craving for cupcakes (red velvet cupcakes) and of course Yixing is the one for the job. Fortunately, it’s a Sunday, and Jongdae lives in Seocho, so it’s not a far ride from Yixing’s place. Song Qian offers to help with the baking, which is definitely not a good thing, but she’s Yixing’s best friend and he just can’t go against her kryptonian fist. He just doesn’t get how someone so thin can have such a strong punch.
She brings flour (Yixing doesn't know why) and helps by separating the ingredients. Peter Parker keeps meowing and trying to nose through the bowls filled with sugar, so Yixing just gives him kitty treats as a distraction. He mixes the batter really fast, and as soon as the cupcakes are in the oven, Song Qian insists to be assisted as she makes the vanilla cream cheese frosting. It works well, and sooner than expected, they’re boarding a cab (since it’s a 6 minute ride, they can afford it).
Seocho-gu is a great area, great apartment buildings (like the one Jongdae and Soojung live). Of course, to Soojung, any place is a dungeon, but the apartment is actually nice. It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms, an actual kitchen and a spacious living room. Their kid will love running around. Maybe Soojung will not like it that much.
The minute they step inside, a famished pregnant lady appears, plucks what she thinks is a box of cupcakes from Song Qian’s hands and runs back into the apartment. Yixing gapes.
“Oh… My god. What just happened?” Song Qian drops her purse and coat on the couch and follows Soojung into the kitchen.
Yixing just walks carefully, and each step further in, the apartment seems bigger. “This living room is definitely bigger.”
“You say that everytime you come over.” Jongdae says from his spot on the couch next to Baekhyun. “Hey, thanks for baking her those things. I’ve been running errands for her crazy desires all week.”
“Watching you act so pathetically makes me reconsider having kids.” Baekhyun says wistfully.
“No one would want to have a kid with you.” Song Qian yells from the bedroom. Yixing hears the padding of her bare feet and then she sits in front of Yixing on the floor. “I forgot to ask you, how was it with Mr. Handsome and his friends last night?”
He sighs, “Great.” pause. Another sigh. “They told me Yifan is into me,” and cue gasps.
Baekhyun gasps. “They just outed him like that?”
“I think that was mostly a warning,” he considers the way Luhan was squinting at him. “They were like ‘if you don’t mean anything then get out of his life’.”
“Aw, so protective,” Song Qian coos. “Such great friends.”
“All of them are Chinese. No, wait,” he stops. “There’s a Korean guy, but he tries to speak some Chinese. It’s cute.”
“Yeah, but did Mr. Handsome say anything? About you?” Jongdae asks.
“No. He never does. Should I be worried?”
Song Qian frowns, shaking her head. “No, give him some time. Maybe he’s not a rusher.”
“I asked him to come to the haunted house though,” Yixing adds and everyone gapes at him. “What?”
“Great move, buddy.” Jongdae says. “Speaking of which, do you know when you’re doing this haunted house thing?”
Yixing shakes his head. “I left it up to him. He’ll pick the house and everything.” he shrugs. “The sole thought of having to walk into one of those places creeps the hell outta me. I want this to be a quick experience.”
“Isn’t this cheating?” Baekhyun considers, fingers tapping his chin. “I mean, isn’t overcoming yourself the whole purpose of this list of yours? Achieving stuff you’ve been wanting to achieve for a while?”
“This is not cheating, this is getting help.” Yixing explains wisely.
“Like we helped you with the hair, right?” Song Qian assumes enthusiastically. Yixing snorts.
“That was butting in.”
A heated discussion about Yixing’s real intentions is interrupted by Soojung’s loud wail coming from the kitchen. Jongdae widens his eyes and stands up from the couch, getting ready to come in his wife’s rescue if needed. It’s not needed, though, as Soojung waltzes into the living room, mouth covered in cream cheese frosting and t-shirt sprinkled with red crumbs.
“Oh my god!” she cries. “This is so good, so so delicious oh my god Yixing! It might be the best cupcake I’ve ever eaten! Why aren’t you cooking for me on a daily basis?”
He squints and wonders if she’s serious. What’s he thinking, of course she is. It’s Soojung. “Because I’m not your servant?”
She hums and licks her fingers. “You should consider being my personal cook.”
“We can’t afford a personal cook,” Jongdae barks. “And your parents might be speaking to us again, but they refuse to pay for your luxuries.”
Yixing waves his hands in the air and shakes his head. “I’m not a good cook. I can get by, but--”
“He bakes.” Song Qian says.
Another loud wail erupts and everyone turns to find Baekhyun, both hands cradling a half-eaten red velvet cupcake. “This is so good!”
“If we discard Soojung’s selfishness,” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “We have the fact that you’re a great baker. You should find a way to include this on your list or something.”
Yixing frowns. “How? ‘Be a Great Baker’?”
“No! Make something out of it.” Jongdae places a hand on his shoulder and meets Yixing’s eyes.
“Start a cupcake business or something.”
“It’s not that easy,” he says shaking his head.
“He’s right, Yixing.” Baekhyun says through a mouth-full of cupcake. “You’re too good at this. Maybe make a few samples and distribute to collect the general opinion on your baking. I could taste them for you.”
Song Qian smacks his head, earning a yelp a coughing attack. “I’ve been trying to wrap his head around this cupcake business idea for so long, I might get old before he does it.”
Yixing sighs. There is, indeed, an item on his list about work. And it’s not as if he’s never considered opening his own business. (He has considered everything within his reach to escape the paper company, to be honest), but it’s not that simple. He loves baking, it’s therapeutical. He likes when people compliment his baking, and he likes when people eat the stuff he bakes. It’s just… He never thought about baking as his full-time occupation.
“Think about it, man.” Jongdae insists, and Yixing thinks he might.
The gentleman over the phone doesn’t sound thrilled in hearing the reasons why he should change the brand of paper in his office.
“Ballpoint and gel pens have a perfect slide, and they dry faster as well.” Yixing explains. “We can add bank paper to your order as a bonus, and you’ll notice how long it will last. It’s high quality paper, sir. Your great-grandchildren will still be able to handle the documents you print with our product.”
The man (Mr. Kang), snorts. “Why should I use a paper that lasts forever?”
Yixing stops. He thinks, and sighs. The man must have heard it in his tone, the complete disregard for the product he’s trying to sell. The fact is, Yixing doesn’t believe in bond paper, he never stopped to think about paper as something to be taken seriously. There’s just this script in front of him that’s he’s supposed to read to people he calls and they whether say yes or no. It’s not meant to be something profound. “You’re right sir,” he says hoping that Mr. Kang hears the defeat in his voice. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Good night.” Mr. Kang hangs up without a retort.
Song Qian must have been lurking around; as soon as Yixing hooks the phone, she swivels her chair towards him.
“What are they trying to advertise with ‘Our Paper Lasts Longer’? The rendition of planet earth?” he asks indignantly, rubbing his palms on his face. He’s tired. So tired.
Song Qian remains silent for a while, but Yixing can feel her attentive eyes following his movements. “Did you think about what we talked about last sunday? The cupcake thing?”
“No, I didn’t.” he answers promptly.
“Yixing,” she sighs. “You’re living a moment where changes are welcome. You hate your job, it’s stressful and tiresome. Don’t you think that this is a good opportunity for you to do something else?”
“Baking cupcakes?”
“If it’s not baking cupcakes, it’s something else. Something that you don’t hate with the intensity of a thousand burning suns.” she tosses her hair and gives him a look before graciously swiveling her chair back to her own cubicle.
✦
I’m serious, she’s wearing orange pants.
Yixing smiles at his phone before lifting his head to check that he isn’t walking into a lampost before he looks down at his phone again and types, well it’s her choice, you can’t damn the woman for liking bright colors.
it’s like you and the stupid name you’ve given your hamster.
You take that back. Right now.
i will in a few minutes. Pushing the cafe door open with his body, Yixing pockets his phone and searches the place for a guy in the red beanie. Yifan is sitting at a table at the end of the store, a dumb smile on his face as he looks down at his phone. Yixing can’t hold back the grin.
“I take that back.” he says, pulling a chair and flopping down.
Yifan snaps his head up and, surprisingly, his smile stretches further. “Good. Don’t ever speak ill of my beloved Toy, ok?”
“Got it,” he leans on the table, both arms over it. “So, what are you getting us?”
Yifan snorts a laugh, “So I’m paying?”
“Sure you are.” he shrugs. “I’ll make it easier for you, I’ll have a gingerbread latte.”
“They don’t even sell these here, they’re seasonal.”
“Then I’ll have a caramel latte.”
Yifan sighs and orders. Yixing can tell he’s not really pissed by the way his lips tug the slightest bit upwards. He looks so good in a beanie; adorable. And the long sleeved dark green shirt he’s wearing compliments his… infuriatingly handsome self.
“So,” Yixing says after the waitress leaves. “Show me the goods.”
Fidgeting a bit with the zipper, Yifan pulls a sketchbook from his backpack (very stylish, Yixing notes; leather). He opens it on a specific page and hands it over. “I’ve been drawing these for the past few days. There’s a tattoo convention coming up, in April, and we’re getting a stand, Zitao and I.” He scratches the back of his neck. “We’re trying to come up with new stuff. Tao’s doing some stuff with clocks and cutouts. I’m doing…”
“Watercolor,” Yixing nods as he lets the pads of his fingers wander over the pages covered in watercolor paintings of all kinds. Skulls, pretty ladies, cars, animals, geometric forms. Yifan is good. Better than he thought. A real artist. “These are amazing.”
“Thanks, but,” the taller shakes his head, reaching up to adjust his beanie. “The thing is, I’m unsure about the watercolor thing because it’s not news anymore. Anyone can do watercolor, and we want to stand out. Do something new.”
“Is that why you’re nervous?”
“The convention is right around the corner, and we’re still creating. I don’t know if we’ll be able to do it.”
The last words come out almost like a whisper. Yifan props his elbows on the table and laces his fingers, covering his mouth with them. He looks so contemplative, so seriously worried that Yixing wishes he could come up with the craziest tattoo idea to help him out. Instead, he places the sketchbook on the table and reaches for Yifan’s hands clasped together.
“Of course you will,” he says, thumb lightly caressing Yifan’s fingers. “Watercolor is completely unrelated to tattoos, and to be honest, yours are awesome. It would be a shame to waste all this.”
There’s a moment in which Yixing wonders if Yifan heard any word he said. The elder gazes at him intently, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. It takes him a moment to react, biting on his lower lip and disentangling his fingers so they can close around Yixing’s hand. It’s wonderful how Yifan’s face slowly lights up. Yixing wants to reach for his ear and maybe do something to mask the undeniable blush on his face.
“You think so?” Yifan’s voice is lower when he asks, a bit playful as well. “Can I watercolor you?”
Yixing laughs (too loud, maybe). “Yeah, um, I don’t know if I’m ready for another tattoo.”
“I’ll do it for free,” the other says. “Just because I like you so much.”
Yifan puts his other hand into the hold, and it’s really frustrating because Yixing is dying to cover his face, to hide himself somehow, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to pull his hands free. Yifan’s fingers are gentle, and soft, and warm, and they’ve never held each other’s hands like this before. This feels like a milestone.
“So,” Yixing clears his throat. “Did you find a location?”
“A what?”
“For the haunted house. A location.”
Yifan widens his eyes and his mouth forms a little ‘o’. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Are you free tomorrow night?”
Yixing shivers. “At night?” he whines.
“Why, do you wanna visit a haunted place during the day? You gotta do that at night, dude!” Yifan chuckles, and his fingers skate from Yixing’s hands to his arm. It’s weird how close he feels, even with a round table between them.
“I’m free tomorrow.” Yixing tilts his head. “During the day.”
When Yifan withdraws his hands, Yixing almost lets out a sound in protest. He manages to swallow it down.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” he says, without a single clue of how much Yixing wants him to.
Yixing calls his mother the afternoon before meeting Yifan. She had good laugh when Yixing told her about the haunted house. Said that Mei Ling’s son would have pulled that one off easily, though is hard to do so when one’s in jail (Yixing reminds her). He talks to his grandparents for a bit; his grandfather sounds very excited when talking to him. He tells him the latest about Ruki, who’s now restricted from entering garden because of his newly-acquired taste for the flowers. Yixing’s grandmother says she wants to give the dog up, and he can hear his grandfather’s indignant yell somewhere not far from the phone. He laughs and feels light. Talking to his family is always detoxing.
However, as the morning advances, Yixing tenses up all over again. Peter Parker nips at his toes, gently clawing Yixing’s calves, and he even tries to play with his kitten for a while, but feels too anxious and suddenly moving around seems like a terrible idea. Peter Parker can only meow in annoyance.
When Yifan calls to say he’s picking Yixing up in less than ten minutes, he tries not to freak out. Sits on his bed and pets his cat, working really hard in pushing all the bad thoughts away -- and also the miscalculated ones that make this all seem like a date if not for the spooky part.
Yixing receives a text and grabs his belongings, locking his house and climbing down the stairs. Yifan is waiting for him and is looking ridiculously good for someone who’s about to witness the most traumatic experience in Yixing’s life. His hair is tied in a half ponytail -- if only he knew how much Yixing loves half ponytails.
“Hey,” he smiles. “Ready?”
Yixing inhales and nods. “I hope I am. So, where are we going?” he looks past Yifan and into the cab that’s waiting for them.
“Gyeonggi-do,” Yifan answers, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched. “There’s this really freaky place…”
He doesn’t even need to finish the sentence. Yixing knows what he’s talking about. His hands start sweating and his face is probably a mess, because next thing Yifan is approaching him with this worried look, touching his shoulder.
“It’s fine, this is what you want, right?” the taller nods in reassurance. “I’m here, that’s fine. Besides, we have the advantage of daylight.”
“This is the psychiatric place, isn’t it?” Yixing trembles, “I heard something awful happened there,” rubbing his palms together, Yixing frowns at the ground and mentally curses himself for being such a pussy. This is supposed to be a turning point.
“It’s not that terrifying,” Yifan squeezes his shoulder and slides his arm around Yixing’s shoulder. It’s only Yifan’s arm on his shoulder, but it almost feels like it’s a rope tightly wrapped around Yixing’s heart, making it falter and ache agonizingly. He’s just not sure if he’s ready for this. “Come on.”
The drive to Gyeonggi is easy enough, takes 40 minutes to reach Gwangju and the taxi driver bids them farewell with wide eyes. Yixing knows better than to hang on that. However, getting to the Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital is something else entirely. They have to go up a mountain and take a path amongst woods and insects, because apparently direct access to the place is blocked (or covered by bushes from years of inactivity). Once they get there, it doesn’t even look that scary, and that’s exactly the problem. Yixing spends seven minutes just staring at it, wondering if he should have gone for changing his soap brand instead of the haunted place thing. Suddenly, fingers entwine with his and lightly squeeze his hand. He looks up to his side finding Yifan next to him, a serene look on his face and eyes not diverting from Yixing for a second.
“Are we doing this?” he asks.
A wave of confidence washes over him and suddenly, Yixing feels like he’s ready. So he nods and looks ahead. “I’m ready.”
There are tree branches and dead leaves scattered all over the place, a few rocks and pieces of the building that’s starting to crumble. They enter the building through a grid that’s been torn down, and inside is way worse than the outside. The main hallway is bright enough with light coming from the four windows, but there’s dirt everywhere. Dirt, and old objects Yixing doesn’t pay much attention to. Yifan gently tugs his hand.
“The main entrance is the other way around, we can’t get to the corridors here.” he says and pulls Yixing outside. They circle the building and get to a large staircase -- the main entrance. However, the breach in the gate is just a small square on the ground. “We have to crouch.”
Yifan goes first, crawling through the gap and entering the building before Yixing does the same. He offers his hand to help Yixing stand up, and the minute they’re both standing, their hands are back together. Running his thumb over the veins on Yifan’s wrist, he can feel the light pulse. Yixing sighs, wondering if Yifan can feel his pulse too.
Inside is a mess. Almost all windows have pieces of cloth hanging that’s supposedly what’s left of curtains, and someone wrote on a wall ‘I’m scared as fuck :)’. Yixing clings to Yifan’s arm, resting his cheek on his shoulder because if something comes for them, he’ll be the first for sure. He just hopes Yifan is enough protection.
“I don’t understand why the smiley face,” Yifan says as they stare at the scribbled wall. “Shouldn’t it be a sad face?”
“This person was here one day after halloween,” Yixing notes the date right below the message and the person’s name. He’s not sure if it’s a girl or a boy. “Do you think they were here alone?”
Yifan shrugs and moves on, leading them to a corridor that looks endless in the darkness. Yixing’s heart beats faster as they walk over layers of dust and pieces of concrete, and some rooms are so wrecked they can’t even go inside, but in Yixing’s opinion, the ones they can see the beds and torn mattresses are the worst.
Something is starting to bother him, maybe because how some rooms are similar such that they have been burnt, as if someone had gone from one to another setting fire to the mattresses and furniture. His breathing hitches when they get to a staircase that is filled with footprints on the walls.
“What the fuck?” Yifan whispers.
“I-I don’t wanna go upstairs.” Yixing falters, arms tightening around Yifan’s to refrain him from taking another step. He’s not going upstairs. “Please, let’s go back? I’m starting to get scared.”
“But that’s when it gets fun?” Yifan looks down at him. Yixing can’t bring himself to look up, eyes locked on the dirt covering the glass floor. “Hey? Are you ok?”
“No, I wanna go back. Please, let’s go back?”
The tremble in his voice probably alarms Yifan, and next thing he knows, they’re turning around and nearly running out of the building.
Yixing doesn’t even realize he is holding his breath until he crawls out and inhals deeply and loudly. Yifan brings both his hands to his cheeks, lifting Yixing’s face up for inspection. He looks genuinely worried.
“Yixing? Are you ok?”
Nodding, Yixing grabs Yifan’s arm. He blinks a few times and takes in all the wood surrounding the place; it looks too much like something could be lurking in there.
“Let’s go back to the road, please?” he asks. When Yifan’s hands slide off his face and laces their hands once more, Yixing notices that, apparently, Yifan has been holding his breath as well.
Of all items in his list, the haunted house was definitely the one he didn’t think through, so Yixing thinks he deserves alcohol to make up for his own mess up. They buy some booze on their way back to Yifan’s apartment and dump their tired bodies on the couch, staring dazedly at the dead, black screen of the TV probably wondering when they’re supposed to start drinking.
Yifan makes the decision, standing up and going through his cupboard in search for glasses and something to open all the soju bottles they bought. Yixing watches him open and close cupboard doors with attentive eyes, taking in rogue strands of hair that fall into his eyes and the way his fingers absentmindedly pushes it to the back of his ear. Yixing watches how his mouth keeps parted all the time he’s looking for the stuff they need, and how he sometimes closes it to take a deep breath. He can’t look away. His arms still feel warm from Yifan’s hands and Yifan’s body pressing close to his on the ride back to Seoul. The taller held him so close, hands ever-so-naturally coming to caress Yixing’s own. Sometimes, through his peripheral vision, Yixing would catch him staring.
They drink in silence for a while, enjoying the light breeze that comes through the balcony, blowing on their stretched out feet on the floor. One, two, three bottles of soju later, Yixing talks about Peter Parker. He also talks about his family, and his grandmother being mad with the dog for eating their flowers. Yifan laughs and talks about his family, about his mother that’s around the world with someone filthy rich, but never fails in giving him a daily call.
“Sometimes I get calls from Cairo.” he mentions, sipping on his cup. Yixing follows the movements of his lips, opening then closing around the rim of the glass. “Sometimes she texts me from Rio, sometimes she sends a postcard from Alaska. I’m used to never breathing the same air as my mother.”
Yixing licks his lips, “They don’t have a permanent location? Like… A real house?”
“Beijing,” Yifan swallows. Yixing catches on that too. “But they’re never there.”
“So basically, you can never contact your mother?”
“No, we skype. She’s always connected and she calls me everyday.” he pours both of them full cups and gulps his in one go. His face is starting to get a little color and it’s so adorable Yixing wants to glomp him.
Probably because he’s met with no answer, Yifan turns his face to Yixing and sighs. They sit there, side by side in silence for a while. Yixing’s not sure if it’s the weight of Yifan’s eyes or the alcohol, but he’s starting to feel a little dizzy.
“I’m dizzy,” he announces, hand cradling his temple.
“Wanna go upstairs?” Yifan points his thumb up. “The bed is really clean and comfy, I changed the sheets this morning.”
The thought of lying in Yifan’s bed is mildly baffling, but he would never reject the offer.
Yifan helps him on the stairs and lets go just in time for him to fall on the bed, and damn he was right. Yixing’s body falls onto the mattress with a moan. “Oh my god,” he breathes and Yifan laughs, lying down next to him. “Best mattress ever.”
“The sheets smell good, right?” Yifan asks, lying on his side. Yixing mimics his action, resting his head on his palms.
“I think you smell better.” he blurts. Yifan chuckles, pink coloring his cheeks as he slightly ducks his head -- probably to hide his face --, and looks up at Yixing from behind his lashes. There were times in which Yixing’s wanted to kiss him, but nothing compared to now. Yifan’s hair is tied up in a messy bun, so his neck is completely exposed and it makes Yixing want to scoot closer, fist his shirt and press careful wet kisses onto his skin.
“I climbed a mountain, I walked into an abandoned hospital, I drank alcohol,” Yifan says in amusement. His fingers touch his lips and it’s so distracting. “I stink.”
Once Yixing manages to move his eyes from Yifan’s mouth, he answers, “I don’t think you do.”
Yifan just stares in silence, eyes trailing from Yixing’s face to his hands and fingers coming to lace with his in a weird angle, but it really doesn’t matter. What it matters is that Yixing’s heart is beating too fast, and he hopes Yifan knows what kind of effect he causes Yixing’s heart to have.
“Did you take me to that horrible place just to get me in your bed?” he blinks, but his eyelids stuck. He’s so tired.
Yifan laughs, but doesn’t answer. He does move closer, and his hand, his warm hand touches Yixing’s neck, thumb soothing across the smooth skin. Yixing wants to be able to open his eyes, he really wants to, but his eyelids are too heavy. He feels heavy. Before he knows there’s breathing on his mouth, and a nose bumping on his. The only strength left in his body manifests when Yifan kisses him, soft lips closing around his, tasting him. Yixing balls his hand on the collar of Yifan’s shirt, tugs him closer ignoring all fluttering and tingling that takes place in his stomach. Yifan wraps an arm around his waist, his hand settling on Yixing’s lower back, and he wonders when they should stop kissing. If they should.
Yixing is used to waking up early on a Sunday. What seems odd to him is waking up somewhere other than his own diminished space with his cat resting somewhere not far from his head. However, after a second glance around, Yixing recognizes where he is. It’s Yifan’s apartment, his bedroom upstairs with the new, clean sheets and that scent he’s learned to associate with Yifan. Yixing soothes the mattress absentmindedly and turns to his left, finding the spot that’s supposed to be occupied by a person empty.
He hears noises downstairs and hops off the bed, patting his pocket and finding his cellphone completely neglected in his pants. It’s only 6AM. Yixing walks down the stairs, immediately locating Yifan in the balcony, sitting on the floor with a cage between his open legs. He walks up carefully, and suddenly, his mind is filled with all kinds of thoughts about the previous day. The haunted house, and Yifan’s arms around him in the cab. Yifan’s eyes on him when they were drinking on the couch, Yifan’s lips on his.
Maybe Yixing should just get himself together and leave. Perhaps it was just a drunk press of lips, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything. He’s almost turning around when Yifan’s deep voice fills the air.
“Good morning,” he says. “How do you feel?”
How do you feel? He feels a lot. A lot of things that actually turn out to be confusing.
“Fine.” he answers instead, stretching his lips into a generic smile. “You?”
“My head hurts a little, but I’m ok.” he points to the cage between his legs. “Toy’s house needed a swipe though.”
Yixing hums and nods. “Hey, I’m taking off ok?”
Yifan frowns visibly, taken aback. “What? But I cooked breakfast.”
A tingle that resembles last night’s incessant tingles and flutterings too much runs down to settle in Yixing’s stomach. “You did?”
“Of course. Let me just finish up over here and we can eat.”
It doesn’t take long for him to finish the cage. In fact, Yixing thinks he just stopped right in the middle of whatever he was doing with Toy’s hamster ball and threw everything back in the cage. The breakfast is fried rice (Yixing is somewhat surprised by how it tastes so good), they eat comfortably by the kitchen counter. Yixing has lost count of how many times he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking about what happened last night, although he’s curious to know why Yifan kissed him, and if he has any plans of doing it again.
“So, another item checked.” Yifan says after a few silent minutes. “What’s next?”
Yixing sighs in relief for having something to talk about instead of awkwardly watching the other. “To have a star named. Or a galaxy.”
Yifan gasps, “Wow, that’s actually really cool.” he says. “How are you doing that?”
“I’ll have to look it up,” he answers. “But I’m pretty sure there’s a website that does that stuff.”
“You can trust this sort of websites?”
“Considering that stars don’t actually have names, I guess you can pay to give a bunch of numbers a title,” he shrugs, eating what’s left of his fried rice.
“Oh…” Yifan hums, eyes vague and distant. Yixing frowns, placing his chopsticks on top of his bowl and standing up.
“Thank you for breakfast. I should head home now.”
Yifan’s head snaps toward him. “Wait! Are you leaving already? It’s too soon.”
“Yeah,” Yixing scratches the back of his ear. “I have to bake a few cupcakes. Song Qian blabbered to some girls at work about my stuff and they want to try.”
“So you’re baking as soon as you get home?” The taller’s eyes are inquisitive, as if something depends on Yixing’s answer. Makes him kinda nervous.
“Well… Yeah. Is that a problem?”
He shakes his head, chuckling softly. “Nope. I’m just curious about your cupcakes.”
“I can save you some if you want.”
“Would you really?” Yifan’s eyes are uncharacteristically sparkly and his smile is adorably gummy. Yixing can’t help but smile as well.
“Of course. Can you meet tomorrow? I have an hour and half of break before noon.”
“My shift at the studio is at two, so we can meet before that,” Yifan nods. “I can come to the studio earlier.”
“Sounds great.” Yixing pats his hair down. He’s almost sure he looks like Chucky with his orange hair pointing to all directions. Yifan probably notices his struggle, because he chuckles and jogs to the stairs, walking up quickly and returning with a black, leather snapback. He adjusts it on Yixing’s head and blinks down at him.
“Cute.” says, index finger poking Yixing in the cheek, precisely on his dimple. He startles, warmness spreading all over his face; his ears burn annoyingly and all he wants is to reach and scratch, but he’s seemingly frozen. “You can give it back to me tomorrow.”
Yixing grunts. It’s supposed to be a positive answer. Yifan chuckles and caresses his neck. Yixing realizes he’s so used to the pads of Yifan’s fingers on his neck that it doesn’t even tickle anymore. It’s only pleasant.
“See you tomorrow.” he says. All Yixing knows how to do is to nod so he does so and escapes the loft as soon as he can.
{item n. 6}