six degrees of separation
pairing luhan/zitao
rating pg-15 (for sexual connotations; nothing severe, though)
genre travellers!au, romance
length 3,847w
summary luhan's sure there's no such thing that makes tao look more beautiful than beijing's city lights.
A/N idk if i did well on this sobs ;;;;;;;;; written for a prompt (see summary) from exopromptmeme. hello op, i am leaving you a spot down there heehee. it's a bit messed up and rushed, but i hope you like it! also i'm sorry because i don't speak the languages used in here (except english and yeah, the chinese is understandable so i didn't have to translate that) so i kinda sorta used multiple translators to get things right???? translations are at the bottom of the page, if you are interested. i am sure that none of these are legitimately correct though //dies//
They first meet on a train bound for Hokkaido.
Luhan is a fresh graduate, smile bright and contagious, the worries of tomorrow tucked into the deepest part of his conscious self and barred with chains that are both firm and fragile enough to keep them at bay. Coming from a well-off family, it's no surprise that his parents came knocking on his bedroom door three days following his graduation ceremony and brandished an all-expenses-paid trip ticket to Japan under his nose, grins wide on their faces and eyes still shining with pride. And now here he is, winter jacket pulled close over already-multiple layers of clothing adorning his body, a gloved hand poised over his camera in case something interesting comes up, and bag stowed away into the compartment under his seat for safekeeping. Oh, and his eyes subtly fixed on someone sitting across the aisle from him. Damn, he's fine.
Luhan is fairly sure that no one is supposed to look this attractive. Well, he knows that he's got his own share of good genes from both of his parents, but this guy takes the cake. His eyes skim over the contours of the other man's visage - brooding eyes (Luhan thinks it's because of the eyebags) framed by long dark lashes, curved nose, heart-shaped lips curled up in the corners, altogether giving him that look comparable to a feline's - and thinking that perhaps, he's a year or two younger than him. What's he doing here, though? Shouldn't he be at school or something? He seems to be reading a book about Japanese history, Luhan notes, but that's all. No hefty bags either, just a simple messenger pouch that probably contained his other necessities.
[1] "Anata no kappu o tēburu no chūō ni mukatte idō suru baai ga arimasu. Kagiri, kōhī shawā o abitaidesu ka?" The man quips as he turns another page of his book, before looking up and immediately staring into Luhan's eyes. The latter visibly jumps in his seat and tries to distract himself by fixing his coffee cup on the table, unaware that it was what the stranger had initially told him about. [2] "Anata wa daijōbu kanjite imasu ka?"
Luhan blinks, and then gulps. [3] "Ano..." Damn it, he didn't know how to speak Japanese, only getting by with a crappy handbook about the phrases necessary for this leg of the trip (he still had to use English from time to time, though). He digs up in his bag and hides the handbook from view as he looks for the appropriate question, only turning back to say it to the other guy. [3] "Yoku wakaranai ka...?"
The man laughs. "Ah, a foreigner." Luhan is taken aback at the sudden switch into English, but welcoming it all the same; it's better than having to stutter, what with his poor grasp of the language. He nods, face receding back into his scarf to hide the blush he feels starting to crawl up his face. "What brings you here?" He looks up and stares at Eyebags (Luhan thinks it's appropriate to call him that until he knows his name, which he may or may not be tempted to ask sooner or later) and promptly replies how it was given to him as a graduation gift by his parents. The man nods, mouth opening as if seeming to let out another query, but closes it again.
Luhan does a mental eye roll. For a gorgeous guy, he seems like a kid intent on playing 20 Questions with me, he thinks. "What about you? You live around here?"
The other guy nods. "Have been since four months ago."
Oh. Luhan just shrugs it off and gathers his things after the train has lurched to a stop. Eyebags also stands up, helping him with his duffel bag despite his protests (he is a man, for Chrissakes; it just so happens that he's tiny for his age) and sticking to his side even after they've stepped down. It's only when they reach the exit gate of the terminal does the taller one give his bag to him and proceeds to walk backwards, facing him, whilst giving him a salute. Luhan thinks he looks nice like this, a smile tugging up on the corners of his lips and lithe body slowly disappearing within the crowd, as if it was attempting to swallow the other guy whole. "It was nice talking to you...?"
"Luhan," he supplies, no longer fighting the grin on his face. "And you too...?"
"Edison. I'll see you around, then." Luhan nods, hoping that maybe, they will.
Throughout the three days and two nights, he doesn't see Edison. Not even a hair's breadth.
Luhan isn't sure if he's disappointed or not.
Luhan had proceeded to look for a job two days after he came back from Japan, signing himself up for the corporate world the minute he was accepted as an intern at a big-time company in Beijing. Working his way up to the top isn't too easy, especially with the other interns constantly trying to outdo him and the struggle for independence after collegiate life (now he regrets choosing to stay and living with his parents during the final four years of his academic struggle) mixing in with the concoction that leaves a bittersweet imprint on Luhan's tongue every single day; it's there when he wakes up, tongue scalded by the coffee he prepares in the morning a reminder of how he's here and why he's doing this, and still there when he goes to sleep, the amalgam of images blurring his vision just before he finally dozes off an indication that all of this is real and this is his life now.
He goes through his days with practiced ease, bright smiles traded for stiff suits and neckties, dreams of travelling the world out of leisure burnt in a mental image of a bonfire - something he had conjured up in his mind not too long ago - as he watches its smoldered remains float away that's not his territory. Social events and faces come and go, seemingly-suffocating him as he tries to keep track of everything and everyone, but he manages. It's a small saving grace Luhan's infinitely thankful for that his boss isn't the overbearing type, always making sure his interns are in "mint condition" (he tries so hard not to think about how wrong it sounds, because really, they're not robots), or so he says. He embraces the leniency, nevertheless.
Edison is compacted into a tight ball, now filed away neatly in the storage box inside Luhan's head labelled FRAGILE because memories like him will stay, no matter how Luhan tries to forget. While he can't quite manage to part with those deep-set eyes and tapered jaw, better to keep it until he's willing to do so.
He's just disconcerted that it's taking him so long to let go.
It's takes four and a half years before they meet again.
Luhan is no longer an intern; instead, he is an established executive, years of hard work bringing him up the ranks yet taking a toll on both his visage and social life. To say that he has become a hermit would be too much - Luhan would prefer the term overworked on any given day, really. He rarely has time for himself anymore; his life has turned into a monotonous routine, he isn't even sure if he's still functioning properly or not. Wine is substituted for beer, television nights no longer a habit but a luxury; he'd be lucky if he even gets a day off. Most of the time though, he has to travel around, hiring and firing people, attending different board meetings. Like what he just did a few hours ago.
He isn't drunk (yet), perched on top of a bar stool provided by the restaurant he had immediately barged into the moment rain pelted down on the the streets of Paris. His coat is draped over his hunched form, still a bit drenched from earlier, but comfortable nonetheless. Times like these, Luhan just wants to curl up and curse himself for not bringing an umbrella despite what Siri had told him this morning. At least that thing isn't entirely useless, he thinks as he nurses his drink. He looks around and sees most of, if not all, the restaurant patrons looking at him, and he thinks he knows exactly why. Tourists may be abundant in France, but it's rare a time when they encounter someone remotely Asian, and alone at that. Luhan only sighs.
"Excusez-moi, Monsieur?" Luhan looks up to see a waiter standing idly beside him. The latter's looking at him uncertainly, as if gauging his reaction to the sudden French.
Luhan only smiles; he's seen that face one too many times before. [4] "Oui, qu'est-ce?"
The waiter's shoulders visibly sag in relief. Luhan chuckles a bit. [5] "Quelqu'un m'a dit à vous donner cela." He hands out a box, plain old cardboard and he inwardly deems it a perfect fit in his palm.
Luhan quirks an eyebrow at the outstretched limb, taking it. "Merci," he starts, and shakes the box in indication, [6] "Euh, je ne veux pas paraître curieux, mais qui est-il?" He doesn't know anyone within the vicinity, and he had traveled alone, only his boss knowing about the details of the trip. He's also sure there isn't a neon sign on his forehead saying that he's available like that. There aren't any other reasons why a total stranger would give him a gift (he isn't even sure what the box contains; what if it has a bomb?), are there?
The waiter only shakes his head and puts an index finger to his lips, saying, [7] "Je suis désolé, Monsieur, mais il m'a demandé ne pas à vous dire." Luhan smiles hesitantly at that, and dismissed the former with a nod. He opens the box, only peeking in at first because he's not so sure if he should be opening this in a public place. But when he sees something shining through the small crack he had peered through, he takes the contents out and drops his jaw halfway in awe.
A snow globe sits on his palm, white specks floating over a landscape which vaguely looks like a couple of buildings, and glass sphere reflecting a myriad of colors back into his eyes. The outerbase is carved into letters that he can't quite make out, what with the dimness of the restaurant and inebriation slowly knocking on his door. He runs his fingers over them, nonetheless, feeling the wood dip and curve under his fingertips. Who would give him something like this? Luhan only shakes his head as he puts it back into the box.
[8] "Tsk, vous ne l'aimez? Je pensais que vous le feriez." A voice startles him out of his reverie, and Luhan looks up, almost knocking the box off the counter in his surprise.
"Edison?" What is he doing here?
Said man only laughs as he takes a seat next to Luhan, gives him a flying kiss, and leans in with a twinkle in his eyes. [9] "Bienvenue à Paris, Luhan."
Despite his initial surprise, Luhan had chatted with Edison like an old friend, sharing drinks as they talked about - well, themselves.
Luhan learns that Edison is now a college dropout, having bored himself to death with his exchange-student stint in Japan (so he was a student, Luhan muses), but well-heeled enough for his parents to give him consent to travel the world. He had promptly started with Asia - India, Malaysia, the Philippines, Thailand - and had lamented over the fact that he wasn't able to visit the other countries, that maybe they were meant for another time. He learns that Edison is quite proficient in wushu ever since he was a child, something the latter had been thankful for when a stranger had attempted to steal his bag at a train station in Japan. He learns that Edison is three years his junior, and the latter had pointed a finger at him accusingly whilst demanding why he had a baby face. He learns that Edison has quite a big inclination towards pandas, and calls them his long-lost siblings.
Luhan also learns that the sole reason why Edison travels the world is because he always feels alone.
"I'm an only child, you see," Edison says as he downs his third glass of wine. "Both my parents were never around that much while I was growing up. Mom's a big-time researcher at a pharmaceutical firm, and Dad handles stocks at a joint company. I was often left at home with a nanny or two." Luhan only nods; that must have been hard, if he were in Edison's place. Growing up with his parents always doting on him, he can never imagine how Edison must have felt. Sympathy aside, that is.
[10] "Mais assez parlé de moi, mon ami." Edison chuckles and waves his glass in Luhan's face in mock beration. "What have you been up to since Japan?"
And Luhan tells Edison everything: how he's now an executive, how he climbed up the company ranks, how he's still woefully single but not quite ready to mingle. Luhan also tells him about his plans of leaving the corporate world and the possibility of him trying photography, and when Edison asks why, he only shrugs and says, "I'm not happy." Luhan also tells Edison about his thoughts on settling down (he didn't even know where that came from; from Yixing's constant pestering, perhaps), and how he hates that every one of his friends have their own families to go home to, whereas he is stuck to the lone light in his apartment's foyer and cold, empty sheets. He's infinitely thankful for Edison's warm hands that have eventually come to clasp his own in an attempt to restrain his near-flailing, how he only laughs at every single one of Luhan's complaints.
It is in that fleeting moment when Luhan thinks that he's attracted to the other man.
When they part, Edison leaves Luhan with flushed cheeks and the smell of spring as he kisses the latter goodnight, a "Call me Zitao instead," declared as he walks through the now-damp streets of Paris, worming his way through the evening crowd, blonde head finally disappearing from his view as he turns into a corner.
Luhan isn't sure why, but it's the fittest that he has slept in in a very long time.
Luhan also never sees Edison - no, Zitao - in Paris again.
The third time they meet each other, it is summer.
Luhan takes a swig of his Coke, inwardly-cursing the unusually-humid air as he walks through the airport. After pining for a month off from work, Yifan - his boss - had eventually agreed to Luhan's terms and had let him go the following day. He had surprised his parents by treating them to dinner at a lavish restaurant, and even himself by booking a hotel room and a plane ticket to New York so impulsively that same night. He thinks that it's good to be different every once in a while, but he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, Zitao is there as well, just as he had been those previous times.
He knows that this is wrong, that this isn't the romance he had been hoping for - Luhan always tells himself that this isn't love, that this is just a romantic aberration so often mistaken for true affection. He can't possibly fall for a near-stranger, can he? He had only met him twice, for Chrissakes. But Luhan's mind is as fickle as anyone else's, going back and forth between these two mindsets, and he ends up not convincing himself on either way. Maybe, he thinks, that he just needs to get laid, to get that pent-up bodily frustration out of his system and stop this momentary stupidity obviously caused by the lack of a dating pool. It's frustrating, really. How can he be so infatuated with a guy he barely knew?
So, packing his bags and trusty camera, he had left Beijing for New York, hoping that he could perhaps find some sort of distraction.
Luhan should have known better than to ignore his gut instincts, though.
The moment he had stepped out into the warm morning breeze of the JFK Airport, he catches sight of an obnoxiously-dressed blonde guy at the taxi stand, fiddling with his phone. The sudden drop in his stomach doesn't help its contents, and Luhan thinks that he might just spew his breakfast from the plane earlier on the walkway. He's suddenly finding it hard to breathe, silently wishing that he had something to cover himself with, a hoodie or something else. Nevertheless, he tries, surprised at how steady his voice comes out. "Zitao?"
The blonde guy turns around, and sure enough, those same mirthful eyes in Paris and Japan stare back at him, equally dumbfounded. "Luhan?"
Luhan doesn't know what made him do it, but he is the one who comes up to Zitao and kisses his right cheek. He has to tiptoe a bit, but Luhan thinks that it's just fine. A gust of wind brings him back to reality like a bucket of ice onto his skin, and he drops, staggering away a bit before regaining his composure. He concludes Zitao is Chinese, and he speaks in Mandarin. "So..."
And Zitao is laughing, also speaking in Mandarin, that same catlike smile is lightening up his features; he finishes what Luhan was supposed to say, the words caught on the tip of the latter's tongue. "We should really stop meeting like this."
Luhan tries to come up with something comprehensible, but his cognitive functioning seem to be lagging because Zitao is right there like he had thought he would be. What ends up coming out is something akin to a cough and a gurgle, and then, "Um." He just doesn't get himself sometimes. He is a twenty-six year-old successful working individual, goddamnit, not a teenage high school boy who's about to go out on his first date. Zitao only laughs at his outward confusion, and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"You're cute."
It takes a good three minutes before Luhan snaps out of whatever Zitao-induced euphoria he is in.
They end up staying in the same hotel, albeit in different rooms; Luhan thinks it's all the same, though. Zitao is there, so near yet so far, and all he could do is try not to act all fascinated with the younger one's charms. Because that is not the Luhan he has grown accustomed to for the past five years. The Luhan he is supposed to be should be levelheaded, not reckless; sophisticated, not immature. A rational part of him says that he has commitments at work that he can't just leave hanging and that he has parents left to take care of, but Zitao feels like life, like sunshine and rainy days and snowball fights all rolled into one, and it's giving him all the more reason to stay.
Luhan also thinks it's unreasonable to fight his feelings any more than he does when Zitao takes his hand at the elevator and says, "Let's go hit the streets, Luhannie."
He figures having a new nickname wouldn't hurt.
They stumble into Luhan's room that night, sobriety thrown out on the streets of New York a couple of hours prior. Luhan learns that Zitao acts like a brat when he's drunk, occasionally spewing things out like "I want ice cream" or "Luhannie is too stiff and isn't carrying me properly" (the last one had made him snort with laughter, considering how Zitao is clearly the taller and bigger one between them both). At least he has the decency to take his shoes off and carry Zitao to the bed before flopping down facefirst beside the younger, head swimming in an amalgamation of colors floating beneath his closed eyelids. He thinks that while this isn't what he had initially planned of his vacation (because really, Zitao was out of the picture until that blasted airport encounter came along), at least he got drunk, right? This can be considered a distraction, right? Luhan could only honestly say "Maybe".
He also learns that Zitao is a good kisser, a bit sloppy on the edges but that's okay, because their breaths are mingling into the night and the dim orange hue of the lampshade can suck it up because Luhan thinks the younger looks absolutely gorgeous swathed in moonlight as their bodies move languidly against each other. He also cancels out whatever thought about infatuation he had earlier, mind transformed into a jumbled mess of Zitao, wonderful, and love, as they spend the night in each other's arms.
It is in the morning when he gets his mind straight does he ask: "What are we?"
Zitao had looked flustered, so young and restless, a pretty pink covering his bare chest and his cheeks as he answered, "I don't know... Dating, I guess?"
Luhan only grins as he leans in for a kiss, the other's answer more than enough.
Zitao is more than enough.
He watches as yet another kid eating mooncakes passes by him, camera poised in his hands as he tries to take a picture of the festival. Zitao is beside him, eyes darting to and fro as he watches the lanterns on full display everywhere. Luhan could only laugh as his boyfriend tries to guess the riddle written on one of the lanterns, and fails, his lower lip jutting out into a pout.
He had been wrong all along. Zitao was what he had needed from the very start, not half-assed paperworks or social gatherings he had never liked to begin with. He needed to feel young again, make up for the time he had lost when he decided to start working early. He didn't drop out of the company, no, Zitao had forbid him from doing so, but at least he now has a social life, coming out to see his friends and having dinners with his parents more often than he had been for the past years. Luhan thinks it's all going to work out.
He hadn't signed up for this when he went to Japan and rode that train to Hokkaido, but when he comes home and sees Zitao reading a book on his side of the bed and smiling at him after a long day, he's content with this sense of completeness he still can't quite fathom. And if he had thought back then that Zitao was handsome on a snowy morning, almost ephemeral against a rainy spring's dusky backdrop, and gorgeous despite the sweltering heat of summer, then he's absolutely beautiful under Beijing's city lights on a cool autumn's night.
Home.
ONE HELLA LIST OF TRANSLATIONS, I'M SO SORRY ;;;;;;
[1] "You may want to move your cup towards the center of your table. Unless you want to take a coffee bath?"
[2] "Are you feeling alright?"
[3] "Um... I don't understand...?"
[4] "Yes, what is it?"
[5] "Someone told me to give you this."
[6] "Uh, I don't want to sound nosy, but who is it?"
[7] "I'm sorry, sir, but he asked me not to tell you."
[8] "Tsk, you don't like it? I had thought you would."
[9] "Welcome to Paris, Luhan."
[10] "But enough about me, my friend."
- wow exactly ten wOW
- im so sorry for that half-assed sexy times i am kinda new to writing them i guess?????
- hi anon i hope you like it??????
rating pg-15 (for sexual connotations; nothing severe, though)
genre travellers!au, romance
length 3,847w
summary luhan's sure there's no such thing that makes tao look more beautiful than beijing's city lights.
A/N idk if i did well on this sobs ;;;;;;;;; written for a prompt (see summary) from exopromptmeme. hello op, i am leaving you a spot down there heehee. it's a bit messed up and rushed, but i hope you like it! also i'm sorry because i don't speak the languages used in here (except english and yeah, the chinese is understandable so i didn't have to translate that) so i kinda sorta used multiple translators to get things right???? translations are at the bottom of the page, if you are interested. i am sure that none of these are legitimately correct though //dies//
They first meet on a train bound for Hokkaido.
Luhan is a fresh graduate, smile bright and contagious, the worries of tomorrow tucked into the deepest part of his conscious self and barred with chains that are both firm and fragile enough to keep them at bay. Coming from a well-off family, it's no surprise that his parents came knocking on his bedroom door three days following his graduation ceremony and brandished an all-expenses-paid trip ticket to Japan under his nose, grins wide on their faces and eyes still shining with pride. And now here he is, winter jacket pulled close over already-multiple layers of clothing adorning his body, a gloved hand poised over his camera in case something interesting comes up, and bag stowed away into the compartment under his seat for safekeeping. Oh, and his eyes subtly fixed on someone sitting across the aisle from him. Damn, he's fine.
Luhan is fairly sure that no one is supposed to look this attractive. Well, he knows that he's got his own share of good genes from both of his parents, but this guy takes the cake. His eyes skim over the contours of the other man's visage - brooding eyes (Luhan thinks it's because of the eyebags) framed by long dark lashes, curved nose, heart-shaped lips curled up in the corners, altogether giving him that look comparable to a feline's - and thinking that perhaps, he's a year or two younger than him. What's he doing here, though? Shouldn't he be at school or something? He seems to be reading a book about Japanese history, Luhan notes, but that's all. No hefty bags either, just a simple messenger pouch that probably contained his other necessities.
[1] "Anata no kappu o tēburu no chūō ni mukatte idō suru baai ga arimasu. Kagiri, kōhī shawā o abitaidesu ka?" The man quips as he turns another page of his book, before looking up and immediately staring into Luhan's eyes. The latter visibly jumps in his seat and tries to distract himself by fixing his coffee cup on the table, unaware that it was what the stranger had initially told him about. [2] "Anata wa daijōbu kanjite imasu ka?"
Luhan blinks, and then gulps. [3] "Ano..." Damn it, he didn't know how to speak Japanese, only getting by with a crappy handbook about the phrases necessary for this leg of the trip (he still had to use English from time to time, though). He digs up in his bag and hides the handbook from view as he looks for the appropriate question, only turning back to say it to the other guy. [3] "Yoku wakaranai ka...?"
The man laughs. "Ah, a foreigner." Luhan is taken aback at the sudden switch into English, but welcoming it all the same; it's better than having to stutter, what with his poor grasp of the language. He nods, face receding back into his scarf to hide the blush he feels starting to crawl up his face. "What brings you here?" He looks up and stares at Eyebags (Luhan thinks it's appropriate to call him that until he knows his name, which he may or may not be tempted to ask sooner or later) and promptly replies how it was given to him as a graduation gift by his parents. The man nods, mouth opening as if seeming to let out another query, but closes it again.
Luhan does a mental eye roll. For a gorgeous guy, he seems like a kid intent on playing 20 Questions with me, he thinks. "What about you? You live around here?"
The other guy nods. "Have been since four months ago."
Oh. Luhan just shrugs it off and gathers his things after the train has lurched to a stop. Eyebags also stands up, helping him with his duffel bag despite his protests (he is a man, for Chrissakes; it just so happens that he's tiny for his age) and sticking to his side even after they've stepped down. It's only when they reach the exit gate of the terminal does the taller one give his bag to him and proceeds to walk backwards, facing him, whilst giving him a salute. Luhan thinks he looks nice like this, a smile tugging up on the corners of his lips and lithe body slowly disappearing within the crowd, as if it was attempting to swallow the other guy whole. "It was nice talking to you...?"
"Luhan," he supplies, no longer fighting the grin on his face. "And you too...?"
"Edison. I'll see you around, then." Luhan nods, hoping that maybe, they will.
Throughout the three days and two nights, he doesn't see Edison. Not even a hair's breadth.
Luhan isn't sure if he's disappointed or not.
Luhan had proceeded to look for a job two days after he came back from Japan, signing himself up for the corporate world the minute he was accepted as an intern at a big-time company in Beijing. Working his way up to the top isn't too easy, especially with the other interns constantly trying to outdo him and the struggle for independence after collegiate life (now he regrets choosing to stay and living with his parents during the final four years of his academic struggle) mixing in with the concoction that leaves a bittersweet imprint on Luhan's tongue every single day; it's there when he wakes up, tongue scalded by the coffee he prepares in the morning a reminder of how he's here and why he's doing this, and still there when he goes to sleep, the amalgam of images blurring his vision just before he finally dozes off an indication that all of this is real and this is his life now.
He goes through his days with practiced ease, bright smiles traded for stiff suits and neckties, dreams of travelling the world out of leisure burnt in a mental image of a bonfire - something he had conjured up in his mind not too long ago - as he watches its smoldered remains float away that's not his territory. Social events and faces come and go, seemingly-suffocating him as he tries to keep track of everything and everyone, but he manages. It's a small saving grace Luhan's infinitely thankful for that his boss isn't the overbearing type, always making sure his interns are in "mint condition" (he tries so hard not to think about how wrong it sounds, because really, they're not robots), or so he says. He embraces the leniency, nevertheless.
Edison is compacted into a tight ball, now filed away neatly in the storage box inside Luhan's head labelled FRAGILE because memories like him will stay, no matter how Luhan tries to forget. While he can't quite manage to part with those deep-set eyes and tapered jaw, better to keep it until he's willing to do so.
He's just disconcerted that it's taking him so long to let go.
It's takes four and a half years before they meet again.
Luhan is no longer an intern; instead, he is an established executive, years of hard work bringing him up the ranks yet taking a toll on both his visage and social life. To say that he has become a hermit would be too much - Luhan would prefer the term overworked on any given day, really. He rarely has time for himself anymore; his life has turned into a monotonous routine, he isn't even sure if he's still functioning properly or not. Wine is substituted for beer, television nights no longer a habit but a luxury; he'd be lucky if he even gets a day off. Most of the time though, he has to travel around, hiring and firing people, attending different board meetings. Like what he just did a few hours ago.
He isn't drunk (yet), perched on top of a bar stool provided by the restaurant he had immediately barged into the moment rain pelted down on the the streets of Paris. His coat is draped over his hunched form, still a bit drenched from earlier, but comfortable nonetheless. Times like these, Luhan just wants to curl up and curse himself for not bringing an umbrella despite what Siri had told him this morning. At least that thing isn't entirely useless, he thinks as he nurses his drink. He looks around and sees most of, if not all, the restaurant patrons looking at him, and he thinks he knows exactly why. Tourists may be abundant in France, but it's rare a time when they encounter someone remotely Asian, and alone at that. Luhan only sighs.
"Excusez-moi, Monsieur?" Luhan looks up to see a waiter standing idly beside him. The latter's looking at him uncertainly, as if gauging his reaction to the sudden French.
Luhan only smiles; he's seen that face one too many times before. [4] "Oui, qu'est-ce?"
The waiter's shoulders visibly sag in relief. Luhan chuckles a bit. [5] "Quelqu'un m'a dit à vous donner cela." He hands out a box, plain old cardboard and he inwardly deems it a perfect fit in his palm.
Luhan quirks an eyebrow at the outstretched limb, taking it. "Merci," he starts, and shakes the box in indication, [6] "Euh, je ne veux pas paraître curieux, mais qui est-il?" He doesn't know anyone within the vicinity, and he had traveled alone, only his boss knowing about the details of the trip. He's also sure there isn't a neon sign on his forehead saying that he's available like that. There aren't any other reasons why a total stranger would give him a gift (he isn't even sure what the box contains; what if it has a bomb?), are there?
The waiter only shakes his head and puts an index finger to his lips, saying, [7] "Je suis désolé, Monsieur, mais il m'a demandé ne pas à vous dire." Luhan smiles hesitantly at that, and dismissed the former with a nod. He opens the box, only peeking in at first because he's not so sure if he should be opening this in a public place. But when he sees something shining through the small crack he had peered through, he takes the contents out and drops his jaw halfway in awe.
A snow globe sits on his palm, white specks floating over a landscape which vaguely looks like a couple of buildings, and glass sphere reflecting a myriad of colors back into his eyes. The outerbase is carved into letters that he can't quite make out, what with the dimness of the restaurant and inebriation slowly knocking on his door. He runs his fingers over them, nonetheless, feeling the wood dip and curve under his fingertips. Who would give him something like this? Luhan only shakes his head as he puts it back into the box.
[8] "Tsk, vous ne l'aimez? Je pensais que vous le feriez." A voice startles him out of his reverie, and Luhan looks up, almost knocking the box off the counter in his surprise.
"Edison?" What is he doing here?
Said man only laughs as he takes a seat next to Luhan, gives him a flying kiss, and leans in with a twinkle in his eyes. [9] "Bienvenue à Paris, Luhan."
Despite his initial surprise, Luhan had chatted with Edison like an old friend, sharing drinks as they talked about - well, themselves.
Luhan learns that Edison is now a college dropout, having bored himself to death with his exchange-student stint in Japan (so he was a student, Luhan muses), but well-heeled enough for his parents to give him consent to travel the world. He had promptly started with Asia - India, Malaysia, the Philippines, Thailand - and had lamented over the fact that he wasn't able to visit the other countries, that maybe they were meant for another time. He learns that Edison is quite proficient in wushu ever since he was a child, something the latter had been thankful for when a stranger had attempted to steal his bag at a train station in Japan. He learns that Edison is three years his junior, and the latter had pointed a finger at him accusingly whilst demanding why he had a baby face. He learns that Edison has quite a big inclination towards pandas, and calls them his long-lost siblings.
Luhan also learns that the sole reason why Edison travels the world is because he always feels alone.
"I'm an only child, you see," Edison says as he downs his third glass of wine. "Both my parents were never around that much while I was growing up. Mom's a big-time researcher at a pharmaceutical firm, and Dad handles stocks at a joint company. I was often left at home with a nanny or two." Luhan only nods; that must have been hard, if he were in Edison's place. Growing up with his parents always doting on him, he can never imagine how Edison must have felt. Sympathy aside, that is.
[10] "Mais assez parlé de moi, mon ami." Edison chuckles and waves his glass in Luhan's face in mock beration. "What have you been up to since Japan?"
And Luhan tells Edison everything: how he's now an executive, how he climbed up the company ranks, how he's still woefully single but not quite ready to mingle. Luhan also tells him about his plans of leaving the corporate world and the possibility of him trying photography, and when Edison asks why, he only shrugs and says, "I'm not happy." Luhan also tells Edison about his thoughts on settling down (he didn't even know where that came from; from Yixing's constant pestering, perhaps), and how he hates that every one of his friends have their own families to go home to, whereas he is stuck to the lone light in his apartment's foyer and cold, empty sheets. He's infinitely thankful for Edison's warm hands that have eventually come to clasp his own in an attempt to restrain his near-flailing, how he only laughs at every single one of Luhan's complaints.
It is in that fleeting moment when Luhan thinks that he's attracted to the other man.
When they part, Edison leaves Luhan with flushed cheeks and the smell of spring as he kisses the latter goodnight, a "Call me Zitao instead," declared as he walks through the now-damp streets of Paris, worming his way through the evening crowd, blonde head finally disappearing from his view as he turns into a corner.
Luhan isn't sure why, but it's the fittest that he has slept in in a very long time.
Luhan also never sees Edison - no, Zitao - in Paris again.
The third time they meet each other, it is summer.
Luhan takes a swig of his Coke, inwardly-cursing the unusually-humid air as he walks through the airport. After pining for a month off from work, Yifan - his boss - had eventually agreed to Luhan's terms and had let him go the following day. He had surprised his parents by treating them to dinner at a lavish restaurant, and even himself by booking a hotel room and a plane ticket to New York so impulsively that same night. He thinks that it's good to be different every once in a while, but he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, Zitao is there as well, just as he had been those previous times.
He knows that this is wrong, that this isn't the romance he had been hoping for - Luhan always tells himself that this isn't love, that this is just a romantic aberration so often mistaken for true affection. He can't possibly fall for a near-stranger, can he? He had only met him twice, for Chrissakes. But Luhan's mind is as fickle as anyone else's, going back and forth between these two mindsets, and he ends up not convincing himself on either way. Maybe, he thinks, that he just needs to get laid, to get that pent-up bodily frustration out of his system and stop this momentary stupidity obviously caused by the lack of a dating pool. It's frustrating, really. How can he be so infatuated with a guy he barely knew?
So, packing his bags and trusty camera, he had left Beijing for New York, hoping that he could perhaps find some sort of distraction.
Luhan should have known better than to ignore his gut instincts, though.
The moment he had stepped out into the warm morning breeze of the JFK Airport, he catches sight of an obnoxiously-dressed blonde guy at the taxi stand, fiddling with his phone. The sudden drop in his stomach doesn't help its contents, and Luhan thinks that he might just spew his breakfast from the plane earlier on the walkway. He's suddenly finding it hard to breathe, silently wishing that he had something to cover himself with, a hoodie or something else. Nevertheless, he tries, surprised at how steady his voice comes out. "Zitao?"
The blonde guy turns around, and sure enough, those same mirthful eyes in Paris and Japan stare back at him, equally dumbfounded. "Luhan?"
Luhan doesn't know what made him do it, but he is the one who comes up to Zitao and kisses his right cheek. He has to tiptoe a bit, but Luhan thinks that it's just fine. A gust of wind brings him back to reality like a bucket of ice onto his skin, and he drops, staggering away a bit before regaining his composure. He concludes Zitao is Chinese, and he speaks in Mandarin. "So..."
And Zitao is laughing, also speaking in Mandarin, that same catlike smile is lightening up his features; he finishes what Luhan was supposed to say, the words caught on the tip of the latter's tongue. "We should really stop meeting like this."
Luhan tries to come up with something comprehensible, but his cognitive functioning seem to be lagging because Zitao is right there like he had thought he would be. What ends up coming out is something akin to a cough and a gurgle, and then, "Um." He just doesn't get himself sometimes. He is a twenty-six year-old successful working individual, goddamnit, not a teenage high school boy who's about to go out on his first date. Zitao only laughs at his outward confusion, and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"You're cute."
It takes a good three minutes before Luhan snaps out of whatever Zitao-induced euphoria he is in.
They end up staying in the same hotel, albeit in different rooms; Luhan thinks it's all the same, though. Zitao is there, so near yet so far, and all he could do is try not to act all fascinated with the younger one's charms. Because that is not the Luhan he has grown accustomed to for the past five years. The Luhan he is supposed to be should be levelheaded, not reckless; sophisticated, not immature. A rational part of him says that he has commitments at work that he can't just leave hanging and that he has parents left to take care of, but Zitao feels like life, like sunshine and rainy days and snowball fights all rolled into one, and it's giving him all the more reason to stay.
Luhan also thinks it's unreasonable to fight his feelings any more than he does when Zitao takes his hand at the elevator and says, "Let's go hit the streets, Luhannie."
He figures having a new nickname wouldn't hurt.
They stumble into Luhan's room that night, sobriety thrown out on the streets of New York a couple of hours prior. Luhan learns that Zitao acts like a brat when he's drunk, occasionally spewing things out like "I want ice cream" or "Luhannie is too stiff and isn't carrying me properly" (the last one had made him snort with laughter, considering how Zitao is clearly the taller and bigger one between them both). At least he has the decency to take his shoes off and carry Zitao to the bed before flopping down facefirst beside the younger, head swimming in an amalgamation of colors floating beneath his closed eyelids. He thinks that while this isn't what he had initially planned of his vacation (because really, Zitao was out of the picture until that blasted airport encounter came along), at least he got drunk, right? This can be considered a distraction, right? Luhan could only honestly say "Maybe".
He also learns that Zitao is a good kisser, a bit sloppy on the edges but that's okay, because their breaths are mingling into the night and the dim orange hue of the lampshade can suck it up because Luhan thinks the younger looks absolutely gorgeous swathed in moonlight as their bodies move languidly against each other. He also cancels out whatever thought about infatuation he had earlier, mind transformed into a jumbled mess of Zitao, wonderful, and love, as they spend the night in each other's arms.
It is in the morning when he gets his mind straight does he ask: "What are we?"
Zitao had looked flustered, so young and restless, a pretty pink covering his bare chest and his cheeks as he answered, "I don't know... Dating, I guess?"
Luhan only grins as he leans in for a kiss, the other's answer more than enough.
Zitao is more than enough.
He watches as yet another kid eating mooncakes passes by him, camera poised in his hands as he tries to take a picture of the festival. Zitao is beside him, eyes darting to and fro as he watches the lanterns on full display everywhere. Luhan could only laugh as his boyfriend tries to guess the riddle written on one of the lanterns, and fails, his lower lip jutting out into a pout.
He had been wrong all along. Zitao was what he had needed from the very start, not half-assed paperworks or social gatherings he had never liked to begin with. He needed to feel young again, make up for the time he had lost when he decided to start working early. He didn't drop out of the company, no, Zitao had forbid him from doing so, but at least he now has a social life, coming out to see his friends and having dinners with his parents more often than he had been for the past years. Luhan thinks it's all going to work out.
He hadn't signed up for this when he went to Japan and rode that train to Hokkaido, but when he comes home and sees Zitao reading a book on his side of the bed and smiling at him after a long day, he's content with this sense of completeness he still can't quite fathom. And if he had thought back then that Zitao was handsome on a snowy morning, almost ephemeral against a rainy spring's dusky backdrop, and gorgeous despite the sweltering heat of summer, then he's absolutely beautiful under Beijing's city lights on a cool autumn's night.
Home.
ONE HELLA LIST OF TRANSLATIONS, I'M SO SORRY ;;;;;;
[1] "You may want to move your cup towards the center of your table. Unless you want to take a coffee bath?"
[2] "Are you feeling alright?"
[3] "Um... I don't understand...?"
[4] "Yes, what is it?"
[5] "Someone told me to give you this."
[6] "Uh, I don't want to sound nosy, but who is it?"
[7] "I'm sorry, sir, but he asked me not to tell you."
[8] "Tsk, you don't like it? I had thought you would."
[9] "Welcome to Paris, Luhan."
[10] "But enough about me, my friend."
- wow exactly ten wOW
- im so sorry for that half-assed sexy times i am kinda new to writing them i guess?????
- hi anon i hope you like it??????