[ ✉: 小獅子 ] knock knock [ ✉: 小獅子 ] who's there [ ✉: 小獅子 ] orange [ ✉: 小獅子 ] orange who [ ✉: 小獅子 ] orange you glad i'm in your life :----))
(/ the messages are old, remain untouched and unanswered on his phone for months. he didn’t think much of them at the original time they were sent. they used alternate message systems, group chats replied to with the intent of embarrassing Yixing and inciting an outburst from Luhan. on occasion, they’re the epitome of the eldest, middle, and youngest sibling dynamic. he and Luhan can’t stop yelling at each other, enraging the other without much thought, impulsiveness within two individuals overwhelming for one friendship, and Yixing, sweet, kind, and obviously dim according to Jongin because “he(Yixing) still gives a shit about him (meaning himself),” tries to manage the idiotic pair. the messages are old, apparently over three months old, and both males are gone but finally together in Changsha and Jongin takes his sweet time replying. now is as good a time as ever )
[ msg; 鹿哥 ] i had to muster up the strength to read proof of how fucking embarrassing you are.[ msg; 鹿哥 ] it took me this long.[ msg; 鹿哥 ] yeah, I’m glad that you’re all the fucking way in China[ unsent msg; 鹿哥 ] i miss you fucking idiots[ msg; 鹿哥 ] do everyone a favor and don’t disgust everyone with your sappiness now that you two are always together[ msg; 鹿哥 ] oh. right. happy pepero day you damn deer
[ ✉: 小狗 ] hey tiff guess what! [ ✉: 小狗 ] your favorite fairy tale is getting a happy ending ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ [ ✉: 小狗 ] i'm moving to changsha~ [ ✉: 小狗 ] i hope you let yourself have one too [ ✉: 小狗 ] everyone deserves a happy ending
( outgoing! luhandsome ) what what ( outgoing! luhandsome ) pls don’t say something dumb like you accidentally bleached your hair. don’t let yixing rub off on you that much
* contact name change! luhandsome → 黑馬王子 ( eng: prince charming )
( outgoing! 黑馬王子 ) thank god deleted! ( outgoing! 黑馬王子 ) oh pls you and yixing fulfill the cheese and grease quota for the whole world as it is ( outgoing! 黑馬王子 ) do me a favor ( outgoing! 黑馬王子 ) once you’re done ‘reuniting,’ tell him i love him and miss him. ( outgoing! 黑馬王子 ) tell him i’m happy bc i am. tell him that knowing he’s happy makes me happy ( outgoing! 黑馬王子 ) you too deleted!
"can't even step outside without being smacked in the face by the qixi festival."
the face on the screen is laughing, and there's a twinkle in his eyes, but luhan isn't sure if the disappointed tone he hears in his best friend's voice is real or not, and he doesn't want to ask because he's afraid of the answer he'll get. so he smiles instead, laughs along when his boyfriend does, tries to shake it from his mind and finds an opportunity to distract from the reality that they're hundreds of miles apart.
"did you get my package?" luhan asks eagerly. "i ordered it like two weeks ago so it should have arrived by now."
the quizzical look he receives makes his heart drop down to his stomach, and the words that find his ears are no better. "what package?"
"我肏," luhan curses under his breath, throwing his head back and groaning at the inefficiency of online flower shops and the lies they tell when guaranteeing delivery on a specific date. he's about to go on a verbal rampage when familiar laughter fills his ears, and he's groaning again, but this time laughter is intertwined, more prominent.
"you mean this?" the other male asks, holding up an extravagant bouquet of roses (two weeks ago, luhan learned just how expensive flowers can be).
"idiot," luhan murmurs, though the insult has long lost its bite. "some things never change, even over the yellow sea."
the wide and genuine smile his sees makes his heart jump, even after fifteen years. "you're right," the younger says fondly as he brings the flowers up to his nose, eyes shining. "some things never do. thanks, xiaolu."
"whatever," luhan responds with a shrug, all false modesty and burning cheeks. "tell me about your day."
and he does, and luhan listens, and it's an every day routine, a mundane and regular as morning coffee, but it never feels that way. it's going to feel foreign and strange forever, that the voice he hears is coming from a receiver and not directly from all-too-familiar lips into his ears, but it's the best they can do for now. and the best is all he can ask for.
"and mei li say she misses you. what about you? how was your day?"
luhan grins cheekily and the face he's memorized over and over again smiles back, recognizing the expression. "same old thing," he says with nonchalance before delivering his line. "today, i missed you, and nothing more."
The announcement of his departure is grey, bleak and saddening as the sky was the morning that they talked. His explanation, blue, the truest and most royal that could ever be created. The taste of the goodbye that falls from her lips is as brown and bland as the coffee that sits on the table between them; at the shop that life had crossed their paths at once again.
She’ll miss him more than he realizes, she’s sure. He’ll miss the life that he had made for himself here too. Maybe he’ll visit. He probably won’t. Zhang Yixing’s departure will leave a void in her life perhaps bigger than the one created when he left her the first time.
They’re not as close as they once were, but it’s in this goodbye that it feels like time has rewound itself, frayed the ribbons created by fate and left them standing there awkwardly in her grandparent’s house when she said her own goodbye to him, when they promised they would work things out despite the distance, when he promised not to forget her. That promise didn’t stand, so instead she makes a new one, to herself, and silently to him. She won’t forget for him, because the person that she once called hers has someone else to call his own and it’s not her responsibility to care for him any more. The person that he’s become is new, foreign and different and yet all the same as when Rachel swore that she loved him more than she could ever love herself, and when he swore the same. In dreams of teenage paradise neither had ever considered one day it would come down to this.
Four years ago she had stepped on a plane and not looked back, and now he would be doing the same.
“You can’t forget to write, and call, and tell me how school is going.” She insists, promising that she’ll visit him too whenever she goes home to visit her own family. If Yixing is going to stay in China, she has a reason to visit, a reason to check up on him and a reason to confirm to herself that he will after all be okay, even though things have worked out differently than he wished. He’ll be a good doctor, she knows that. Because even though he can be a huge dork, he cares compassionately and deeply and with his heart and soul just as she, and that will be useful in healing people. His father will be proud.
It’s then that she doesn’t realize the tears that have fallen from her eyes because her mind has soared back into a time when they didn’t have to think about the future and whether they would still be in touch or even remember who the other was by the time things were said and done. She remembers when her grandfather threatened Yixing’s manhood if he ever hurt her and when her adopted mother said that she would be proud to call him her son some day. She remembers when Yixing’s own mother asked her to promise her to take care of him even though her teenage mind didn’t understand the extent to which she meant the words.
Rachel will always be behind Yixing, supporting him, making sure that things go well for him however she can, watching him start a new life for himself and be happy with someone that’s not her. As much as that idea used to hurt her, now it’s freeing, now she can love him in a new way and express it differently. Because at the end of the day, Yixing will always be her first love, and she’ll always love him. But she’ll always be his friend and he hers because that’s how they work.
Time and professions may pull them away again but Rachel knows that she’ll always be tied to Yixing, like the red string that they tied between their fingers as a joke on one starry night in China. She’ll always be connected, watching him grow as a person with a proud smile because he’ll always be the first best person that she ever met.
And in it’s in that moment that she’s finally able to find her peace with Zhang Yixing, and finally feel content with just how things have worked out for them.
Her hand covers his in a gesture of caring, smiling despite the tears because she knows that this is going to work out for him as things always do. She knows that the conflict he’s feeling must be strong, but she also knows how they both were raised, and how neither of them could dare go against their parents, as much as it ends up hurting.
“You’re going to be a great doctor someday, Zhang Yixing. You’re going to make your parents proud, and everyone here will be supporting you too.” She doesn’t want him to leave sadly, though it’s inevitable that he will, but she tries her best to give him good parting words anyways, reminiscent of what he told her before she left too.
he laughs as soon as the crawl out of yixing's lips. his reaction starts as a bubble at the pit of his stomach, rises into his chest, gains momentum as it climbs and finally bursts out of his mouth, blossoms with volume and force, and it fills the empty room with raucous noise but doesn't damage the heaviness the silence contains.
"no."
it's all he can think of to say because yixing's face is sullen; eyes sunken in, lacking the brightness that shines when he's happy; skin of his cheeks smooth and flat, devoid of the dimple that appears every time he's trying to hold in a laugh; lips set in an absolute straight line, lacking the curve that gives away his every attempt at playing a prank. the signs are clear but luhan is willfully blind.
"stop fucking around. let's watch a movie. i rented one of your favorites."
and perhaps yixing is too kind. perhaps he's too apologetic toward luhan, perhaps it really is all just a cruel joke, but yixing humors him, lets luhan believe that the words aren't final, that it's all one big gag and no one is laughing. luhan tells yixing to put the movie on while he goes to make a bowl of popcorn.
he burns it and has to make another bag.
stage two
he knows the dangers of distractions; he has the stitches to prove it. he knows burying emotions and situations beneath the surface can cause damage both physically and emotionally, but distractions are all he knows. at vocal lessons he sings louder than everyone else, during dance lessons he goes so hard he's off beat, off count, and the coach tells him to take a seat, that he shouldn't even be exerting so much after finishing physical therapy. at the gym, he nearly strains a muscle, and during guitar lessons, one of his strings snaps.
but at the end of the day, when most of the other trainees have gone home and he's left with the deafening silence of the practice room he occupies after hours, there are no distractions left and his barriers break, everything seeps through the cracks, all his problems calling for his attention, and yixing's voice is the loudest.
"i'm leaving."
curses leave his mouth in waves as he stands up, begins pacing around the room, hands waving wildly because he doesn't know how else to expend the negative energy. he curses and curses until the room is filled with expletives, thickening the air with the heaviness of hopelessness and he's drowning.
he could really use a distraction now.
he stalks over toward the stereo system, plays a song, any song, turns it all the way up, but the volume isn't loud enough to drown out his thoughts, his irritation, his anger.
large swinging motions attempt to dispel the image of yixing's father, someone who has never supported yixing's dreams and passions, has always been on yixing's case about following in his footsteps. the man was supposed to be a nurturing source for yixing, and yet, even in his deathbed, he does nothing but bring yixing down, tears him away from the only dream he's ever head.
but the empty space fills with anger at himself instead, for not being able to do anything, for not even being able to support yixing, for being too weak to admit that he was leaving. what kind of friend—a boyfriend—was he? he couldn't even protect himself, how could he protect yixing? he couldn't, and now it was too late to do that, too late to pay back all he owed to yixing, too late to become that pillar he wanted to be.
he was supposed to grow. he was supposed to become stronger so that he would no longer need yixing's help to stand, so that he could be the one supporting yixing through everything. why didn't yixing give him that time? why was he leaving now, when he was barely allowing himself to learn? why did he have to leave before he could prove himself?
everything is so fucking unfair.
his choreography slowly becomes more intricate, more taxing on his body. his thoughts eat up his attention, leaving his body to fend for itself against harsh movements, misplaced steps. he's blind, in more ways than one, ignores how his muscles throb and how his heart aches, ignores the telltale signs of another breakdown, another mistake.
he almost drives himself into another self-inflicted injury until he feels a meek touch at his arm. it's a gentle touch, one that grounds luhan, forces him to stop, remind him of his limitations. it freezes every muscle, permits luhan's mind to catch up with what he's doing to his body, allows his every (or single) emotion to cascade down his body in a flurry, causes his arm to stretch out, swat hongbin's hand away with entirely too much force and not enough appreciation.
"leave me the fuck alone," he snaps, eyebrows furrowed, teeth bared, soul bared along with it.
his chest is heaving and his mouth is set in a straight line and hongbin just stares back at him with wide, innocent eyes and an expression that makes luhan hate himself even more. hongbin mutters a quiet apology and shuffles off, but not without reminding luhan to take care of himself, to feel better.
once the door is closed, luhan fals to the ground as his body collapses in on itself, as exhausted as his mind is. he stares up at the ceiling and, as his uneven breaths get drowned out by the music, luhan realizes he doesn't feel any better; he just feels worse.
there has to be another way.
stage three
the start of their relationship began with extravagant events, overdone notions, luhan's overbearing sense of romanticism. for a time, it stopped, was replaced with arguing and indifference and misunderstandings. emptiness, heartbreak, pain. eversince they'd gotten back together, luhan hasn't had time to put together an event, to express his love in ways he felt were only a fraction of the way he felt.
that had to be the reason yixing was leaving, so luhan is going to make him stay.
it begins with flowers delivered to kt under a pseudonym, badly written poems written with each card, progresses into visiting every night, attempting to cook dinner only to end up having to eat ramen or takeout. on saturday night, he leaves training early to go to yixing's apartment, decorates his window with colorful post-it notes that spell out ‘i love you' in chinese, waits for yixing to come home to surprise him with a cake he totally bought all on his own. each post-it note reads a reason of why luhan loves him (and a reason for him to stay).
it'll work, he lies to himself. yixing will definitely stay.
but it doesn't.
none of it works, none of it changes yixing's mind, because above all else, yixing is filial, a trait luhan has always secretly admired but can't help but despise now. all luhan's efforts do is force him to confront his greatest fear, come to terms with the fact that yixing has made up his mind, that he's giving up his dream to help his family, that he's leaving luhan behind.
he spends the night at yixing's apartment, in yixing's bed, holding him close because once he lets go he knows that once he lets go, it's final. yixing is leaving, and there's nothing luhan can do about it. the next morning, they wake, going their separate ways toward their different destinations. the next morning, luhan does what he does best.
he runs.
stage four
this part is a little too familiar, the rejected calls, the ignored text messages, the listless feeling throughout the day, of just going through the motions. luhan doesn't feel like doing a single thing, but he can't break out of the routine he's fallen into, of training and dancing and singing and lessons and coaches and salads and gyms.
the only thing that's different now is that it feels as if he's swimming through an endless tunnel, as if water is hindering his hearing, as if his lungs are devoid of oxygen. the lights in his eyes seem to have burned out, the muscles that control his smile seem to have atrophied, and not even the sound of his closest friends' voices can snap him out of his reverie. all he can focus on is the fact that in a few days, all that he's ever lived for will be gone, and the person who made him believe he was worth something, that he was worth of having a dream, will be miles away, and there's nothing he can do about it.
the hopelessness, in particular, is overwhelming. luhan had always been easily adaptable, taking changes as they came, never having a set plan because the future is unpredictable. but for someone to be as fluid as luhan, he had to have an anchor that kept him from floating away entirely, that kept him grounded when he needed it, a constant that reminded him that even if things went to absolute shit, he'd at least have something to depend on.
but with yixing so adamant about leaving, luhan was left with nothing to keep him afloat.
for the next two nights, he gets the most sleep he's had in his entire life. he sleeps through his alarms, sleeps through the first three hours of training, sleeps past his stop on the bus and his alarm again the next day. he sleeps so much he thinks he might as well be in a coma, but every time he wakes he feels as if he's been hit by multiple cars and four army tanks.
"everyone goes through ups and downs," the company therapist tells him when he's forced to visit, but luhan doesn't hear much else because he's entered the tunnel again, and this time, it seems there's no light at the end.
stage five
he wakes up at midnight, rays of moonlight sweeping obnoxiously over his eyelids, forcing them to open. he's as groggy as ever and his muscles barely allow him to get out of bed, and when he looks at himself in the mirror, he can barely recognize himself.
he shuffles back to his room, struggles to change into a fresh pair of clothes, grabs his phone with the full voicemail and the unread inbox and checks the time, the date. there's a sudden jolt in his system, as if he's been jump started. his eyes widen, his mind shifts into overdrive, and his heart reminds him that he is alive.
yixing leaves in the morning.
he fumbles with his phone, drops it to the ground. the screen shatters but he can't be fucked to worry, or to even pick it up again. he stumbles over his own two feet, struggles to put on a pair of pants over his boxer briefs, misses the handle of his door several times before grabbing it and yanking the door open, slamming it against the wall. he's out of his apartment as quickly as his feet will take him, but it's not as fast as the regret that sweeps over him. once again, he's allowed his selfishness to consume and destroy him, to let his abandonment issues ruin everything. he could have been spending every waking moment with yixing, cherishing the time they had left together, but instead, he'd wasted time in denial, angry at the world, trying to change his mind, at rock bottom.
it's easy to catch a cab in the middle of the night, and the relatively empty streets allow him to reach yixing's apartment building in record time. he forgoes the elevator and the lobby completely, uses his rusty parkour skills to climb the escape ladders up the however many floors to where yixing is. he jimmies the window open, slips in silently, and gets enveloped by the emptiness that is yixing's apartment.
everything is gone. it's final.
but luhan can't focus on that now. quiet footsteps shuffle against pristine hardwood floors, trembling hands find the doorknob to yixing's bedroom, tired eyes find the familiar silhouette of yixing's body against the airbed on the floor. the mass of blankets shuffle and luhan for the first time in days.
"hey."
"hey yourself."
the response is indignant, and yixing has every right to be. luhan has fucked up, again. so many times, he's fucked up, and there will probably countless more times that he will fuck up, but no matter what, he knows yixing will always forgive him, will always accept his every fault, as well as his every redeeming quality. and as insecure as luhan is, that's how he knows that yixing loves him every bit as much as luhan loves him back.
"i have something important to say," he continues, walks further into the bedroom, invites himself under the blanket where he can wrap his arms around yixing's slim waist and hold his head into the curve of his neck and shoulder. "you better listen up."
silence is yixing's answer, and luhan presses a soft, tender kiss to his best friend's forehead.
"i'll always love you, no matter where you are. and no matter what, you will always be my one and only."
he struggles to get it all out as tears pool in his eyes. the warm sensation of yixing's breath against his skin gives him the strength to continue on.
"i'm going to be honest and say i don't want you to go. of course i don't. i want you to stay here, with me. live out your dreams, with me. but now i realize…no matter where you i am, you will always be with me. here." he takes yixing's hand, fills empty spaces with his fingers the way they were meant to be, places both their hands over his heart where he's sure yixing can feel it beating against his chest. "and i will always be with you, no matter where you are."
yixing looks up at him, and luhan smiles, because, for once, luhan is going to be the strong one.
"i'm not going to let you go again. we're going to make this work. phone calls, text messages, skype dates, trips back and forth. i don't fucking care, as long as you are mine, and i am yours."
"i'm sorry," yixing tries to say, but luhan won't allow it. he swallows yixing's words, replace it with a kiss, once twice, three times, several times more until he loses count.
that night, they spend doing all the things they won't be able to for a very long while, and the next morning, luhan sends him off at the airport, yixing's temporary farewell forever etched into his memory.
"this isn't the end, luhan. stand on that stage even if i can't. you were made for it."
and even though luhan has fucked up innumerous times, even though their initial promise wasn't fulfilled the way they'd hoped, luhan is determined. he'll debut, he'll make it. and at the end of it all, he'll have yixing to thank.
my one and only, my anchor, my soulmate.
bonus stage
"i just landed."
"how was your flight? were you comfortable?"
"the guy next to me was heavyset and
he took the whole armrest. plus he
snored really loudly the entire flight.
i had to turn my music up all the way
to drown him out."
"bummer."
"how are you? are you okay?"
"i'll live. just hearing your voice is giving me
energy already."
"still fucking cheesy across the yellow
sea."
"what, did you think you could escape that
easily?"
"(/laughter)"
"(/chuckling)"
"hey. i got something important to tell
you. so you better listen up."
"(/soft laughter) what is it?"
"i left without paying my landlord the
final month's rent. can you take care
of that for me?"
"(/raucous laughter)"
"luhan! i'm serious!"
"(/more laughter)"
"(/joined laughter)"
"i have to get back to practice. i'll call you
again later."
"(/sighs) okay. and luhan?"
"mm."
"i love you."
"i love you, too. i really have to go, though,
i'm being glared at and coach shin is even
scarier when she's glaring it's like her
wrinkles are glaring too."
"i'm serious about the rent, though!
luhan, settle it!"
"(/laughter, followed by a manly shriek) i'll
take care of it! talk to you later!"
There was no greater feeling than being given a clean bill of health. After weeks of physical therapy, of intensive exercises and excruciating pain, Luhan was finally given the okay to return to his normal activity level, though he was still advised to take it slow for another week and build up to it (he knew better now than to push it past his limit; he certainly didn't want to end up in the hospital so soon after just been given the okay to not return).
Even better than receiving great news was being able to share it, and besides the other trainees at Royal, whom he'd have to see straight after his final physical therapy session, the first person he wanted to share it with was Yixing. Although they exchanged the casual text message, most of them having to do with Luhan talking about the other patients and the physical therapists (simply because he didn't want to talk about himself and what he felt was slow progress), they hadn't had the time to see each other since that night at the hospital before his surgery.
The cab ride to his apartment was familiar, the steps up the stairs, even more familiar still, but there was something inexplicable, something different about this time than all the other times, and although Luhan knew exactly what it was, he didn't want to accept it, didn't want to think back on the last time he'd set foot in that building, the explosion, the loss of his control. It was too much to bear, and he didn't want to put a damper on this happy occasion.
Standing at the front door to his apartment was the epitome of it---his memory, though usually forgetful, was vivid---the slamming door, the hurried footsteps, the sting of hot and angry tears. He had to erase it all now, as quickly as he was inputting the code, as fast as he entered the apartment.
"Yixing?" he called out, voice wavering, betraying his own mindset. His footsteps were quiet as he advanced further into the apartment. His mind stopped a familiar term of endearment from falling, instead choosing to repeat Yixing's name once more. "Yixing, are you home yet? I have some good news."
