(/he's meticulously selected the gift for a child from age five to nine, making sure he'll be able to both use and enjoy them. the moment he heard about the project, he's been excited, the thought of being able to give to someone who was simply dealt a bad hand means the world to luhan. if someone had been so kind as to do the same for him when he was a child, he'd have loved and appreciated the effort given. at least then he'd have known there was someone who cared. and maybe that's what he likes the most about this whole thing, that even with the smallest, easiest gestures, a child can experience a little joy and love in his life) — (/throughout the entire process of putting together the shoebox, luhan had been filled with joy. choosing toys he thinks a child would enjoy, knowing it'd put a smile on some kid's face, taking a polaroid photo to include, drawing all over it with permanent marker, and it's made all the more joyful because yixing is there by his side throughout. but as luhan sits in a mess of crumpled up pieces of paper, pen poised over a fresh sheet, he feels himself get overwhelmed. what is he to say to a child whose parents, or lack thereof, cannot afford to get him these things on their own? he heaves a sigh and taps his pen on the shoebox on which he's perched the paper, trying to think of what he'd say to his nine-year-old self) things will get better. (/he writes as he speaks, pen gliding smoothly across paper. in chinese, he writes the very words tattooed across his hip bone—all things are difficult before they are easy) even if you feel alone in this world... (/he pauses again, glances sideways at yixing, feels a warmth spread throughout his body as he smiles to himself before continuing) there will always be someone who cares. i hope you enjoy your christmas this year, and for every year that comes after. (/suddenly, he's hit with another bout of emotion, remembering himself more than ten years ago, without his parents, everyone telling him he was worthless. he doesn't even know this kid's story, doesn't know his background, but its not the details luhan identifies with, but the feeling. that feeling of helplessness, loneliness, wanting to run away but having nowhere else to go. if he can help this one child feel even just a fraction of love and joy and hope...he knew all his efforts would have been worth it) — (/his eyes well up, stinging with a warning of tears and he swallows hard, lifting his head to stare up at the ceiling, catching yixing's gaze from the corner of his eye. he purses his lips together, but there was only so much he could do before tears fell, and they did, in the form of a small teardrop, falling from the corner of his eye to draw a small rivulet of moisture away from his face, which he hastily wiped away) I'm not crying; you're crying.
