can i request? if i can't just ignore this :) Can you do a scenario where Lay was your classmate and now you see him in the street and he recognizes you and you gyus just hang out since then and one day he tells you that he had a crush on you and you secretly like him now and you tell them (happy ending please~) ^^
of course you can request omg
and I’m sorry this took so long orz a bit of writer’s block, but I think I got over it ^^
It’s been a long, long time since you’ve moved to America from China, to study abroad. You haven’t made many friends, trying to keep school a priority over your social life. But you still found friends in a few people, who showed you the ropes of living in America and helped you adjust.
There are many things you’ve found for yourself here, loving the independence of staying in an apartment on your own without any parents or grandparents there with you. Every morning you go for a short walk around the neighborhood, just to get yourself up and going before the day really starts.
The sidewalk is narrow, but someone else is coming, so you quickly move to the side so that they can stay on the path and pass you. But they move over as well, and you look up to smile at them. When the man gets a good look at you, surprise registers on his face.
“Hey- wait- I know you!”
“You…do?”
“Don’t you recognize me? It’s Yixing. From high school! Back home in China, remember?”
You step closer to get a better look at him. There’s definitely something familiar in his eyes. “Oh my god, it is you!” You open your arms and he engulfs you in a tight hug, arms warm. “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
And it’s crazy that you didn’t. Yixing is a classmate from school back in China. The two of you have never really talked much; you were partners once for a project, but that was it. But you do remember that you had a huge crush on him once, after seeing him dance.
After you meet up you find out that you had been going to the same school all this time - it’s just that the school is so big and so much was going on that you’ve never noticed each other.
“You wanna go get coffee or something?” Yixing asks, in mandarin, and everything feels comfortable.
There’s a place just down the road, a little hole-in-the-wall crammed in between McDonald’s and a Dairy Queen.
From there you hit it off, talking about nothing and everything and anything. As he’s talking about his grandma, whom he’s working hard to support, you wonder why you never approached him. There’s something special in his eyes and you notice it more and more as he talks; he’s a good person, almost angelic in nature and you see that as he lists off every charity and fundraiser and community program he’s worked for since coming to America. When you were crushing on him before, it was only because his dancing intrigued you and he did most of the work on the project. And now you’re talking to him, and it’s morphing into something else entirely.
The two of you grow close.
It’s inevitable; there’s something between both of you that just ties you together on its own. Yixing’s too good of a person to let go anyways, and even if he weren’t, you realize how desperate you had become for company. It’s nice having a companion in a foreign land. A shoulder to lean on.
—
Yixing teaches you piano, playing chords while you improvise melodies above his progressions. “Stick to the white keys, we’ll play in A Minor,” he tells you, your thigh pressed against his on the bench. He laughs when your fingers can barely stretch over eight keys to play an octave and shows you how to play easy nursery rhymes and lets you play with the sustain pedal, notes piling on top of each other until it sounds so ugly you have to let go.
“You’re so cute,” he says, a bit to himself, but you still hear it. He just grins at you when you protest and slap at his shoulder. “What? It’s true.”
“Be quiet and teach me Twinkle, Twinkle.”
—
You teach him how to cook, guiding him through simple recipes, reminding him to make sure it’s the sugar and not the salt that he’s mixing in.
“You don’t want salty cookies, do you? That’d be disgusting,” you say, looking on as he mixes the batter until everything is blended. “One time, my mother was making french toast, and she mistook the chili pepper for cinnamon. We didn’t let her back in the kitchen for weeks!”
He reads the next step of the recipe and glances at you once before pouring the entire bag of chocolate chips.
“Yixing- that’s too many!”
“There is never too much chocolate,” he says, stirring them in. The chocolate clumps together and makes it harder, but eventually he gets it smoothed out and by the time he’s done there’s hardly any batter to coat the chocolate chips.
“Okay, you’re right, but we’re trying to make cookies here, not giant lumps of chocolate.”
Instead of replying he picks a chip out of the dish and puts it on your nose. It sticks there with the bit of batter that coats it and you roll your eyes. It looks like you’re not going to win this one. “Fine, you little butt. Let’s get these in the oven before the batter gets too soft.”
—
It’s a sunny July day on the beach where he confesses his love, chocolate brown eyes staring into yours while he holds your hand.
“I’ve liked you for a long time now. Truthfully, I had a crush on you even back in China. But now I think it’s more than a crush. Now I actually know who you are, and I love it. I don’t know what country I saved in a past life to allow me to have the luck of meeting you here, but I’m glad this has all happened. “
You suck in a breath through your nose. He’s liked you this whole time? And you never picked up on it? Maybe you just chalked it up to him being nice or a playful friend, and never actually dreamed of him liking you back. Mutual crushes don’t happen very often.
“Really?” is all you can get out. “I…Yixing-”
“If it’s not too much to ask, could you please…be my girlfriend?”
“Oh my gosh, yes,” you say, throwing your arms around his neck and tackling him into the sand.
