I never thought that the day would come when I would find myself writing up such a message. To be fair, I’m still shaken - still shaking even as I’m typing up all of this, but that’s alright. I’m not here to talk about that, rather I’d like to share a few things with those of you that will stop by and click on this message. To those of you taking your time with it, thank you. It means a whole lot more to me than I can put into actual words.
Advent has been my home for nearly a year now - it would have been exactly that in late April. And yes, maybe it is a relatively long time away, but that’s beside the point. I loved Advent for what it brought, I loved many of its elements, members and even the people behind it all - our admins and mods, who brought everything to life with our help.
I have never had a muse going on for as long as Yixing has, let alone develop in the way that he did - all of my children are precious to me, all five of them. Yes, five. Because I am also the mun behind Lu Han and Chungha, not only Yixing, Zhixiang and Bingbing. Perhaps that doesn’t come as a surprise to some of you, maybe you knew. But to those that did not, then this is me coming clean about those two muses being my own.
I have more words of praise to give than complaints to place in, but I will not deny that there have been certain things happening as of late that have been severely off-putting. Names won’t be given, and things won’t be said any further from that, but it’s due to a series of events that I am now taking this decision. This, I hope to be something that you all can understand.
I love you all and I sincerely hope that you will enjoy your stay here. I am sorry for the threads that are being dropped, just as I am sorry to those waiting out on replies or even starters from me. I hope that you’ll find it in your hearts to understand why this decision has been made.
Thank you a lot, once again, for everything - for your time, most of all. I hope that maybe one day, we might all meet again under different circumstances.
He’s not normally like this. Not visibly- not in a way that anyone would be able to see. He’s never like this out of the confines of his own room. It’s not safe for him to speak to Lun when there’s a chance someone might hear… But today that stupid voice just won’t shut up. It’s on and on about this and that- about his issues and the things he forces on everyone. It’s on about something he’s already quite aware of and that only makes matters worse. He already knows- he chooses not to think about it.
Keep reading
After a relatively eventful day spent mostly at the male dorms, in the company of his friends, Yixing finally departs to his own room. After bidding farewell to the trio, he lazily walks down the hallway and takes the flight of stairs to the lower level - seeing as he was only at the second floor, it seemed futile to take the elevator just to go down one level.
A hand’s brought up to his mouth to cover it as a yawn escapes him, fatigue making itself present now that he was away from the others; he was normally not the one to break any gathering early, but this time around there was no other choice that he could turn to. Since he had the morning shift at the restaurant in the following day, it was best for him to get as much rest as possible beforehand.
On cue, the phone in his pocket starts to vibrate and it’s rapidly retrieved. Speak of the devil - one of his colleagues from the morning shift just texted him about meeting up a little earlier, which elicits a quiet wine from Yixing in response. Reluctantly, he begins to type up a response to the message and nearly bumps into the glass door at the entrance due to lack of focus on his surroundings. It was a close call, but he manages to stop himself right before the collision and decides that it’s best to finish typing up the response before resuming to walk.
Once the message is sent, the device gets put in the pocket of his coat and then a few moments more are spent in front of the entrance door as Yixing fixes up his clothing; winters in South Korea were quite chilly and although it wouldn’t take much for him to chase off a common cold, he prefers to remain cautious. Once his scarf and coat are fixed, a pair of gloves are slipped on - tacky little things, but still a must for cold weather - and the door is finally pulled open, the cold air from outside slipping into the building to greet Yixing.
The thing layer of snow which was already on the ground crunches slightly under his weight - there was something oddly satisfying about that, as well as the snowflakes that quietly kept falling down from the sky in the silent of the night. The scene was nothing out of the ordinary, but it still held its beauty and it was definitely making Yixing’s mind run towards various holiday related topics. He wasn’t paying any particular attention to his surroundings, which was the norm for him - caught up in his own thoughts, he walked the well known way back to the co-eg dorms. That is, until he manages to overhear something and somehow, the voice of the other person seemed to lure him out of his own mind.
Stopping on the spot, Yixing looks from one side to another in attempt to find the person that was talking; there was something oddly familiar about that voice, but he didn’t seem able to pinpoint who it belonged to. After a few tries, his eyes settle on the form of the other, standing not too far from where he was - just around the corner, almost. He considers approaching, but stills himself as a string of names are brought into mention, out of which a fair few were very familiar. He could place a face to most all of them, even if in passing - the only one he was unsure about was the person named Namjoon, though they likely came across one another at one point or another. Or maybe not? His memory didn’t do this any justice.
Bits are pieces of the conversation are missed, due to how easily his focus shifted onto a nearly different tangent, though he’s rapidly drawn back into focus as the conversation held by the other seems to be taking a rather grim turn. Worry surfaces and it causes Yixing to approach the other person without so much as a second thought. There’s not much he can make out of the other, aside from a shape - he’s covered, although that doesn’t seem weird at all, considering how chilly the weather’s gotten. An arm outstretches and his hand’s brought to land atop of the shoulder of the other, “Hey, are you alright over here?”
Yixing is quick to show concern, though he holds back from mentioning anything about what he’s overheard from a distance purely out of respect. If all goes well, he should be able to approach this situation without having to bring any of that into mention.
After a long and eventful day, the evening finds Yixing resting in bed, though not his very own - the possessor of it was laying right next to him, already overcome by slumber. In contrast, he in unable to get some rest, even though he feels physically tired; a couple of drinks, paired up with some shenanigans from earlier on only add on to the already existing fatigue. Still, his mind gives him no rest and so, he is stuck staring at the ceiling up above.
There is nothing inviting about a sea of white, just as there is nothing which he can occupy his mind with in hopes of falling asleep sooner; counting sheep never works, so his thoughts wane on an entirely different tangent. They bloom from one another, leaving Yixing wide awake to think over various events which his mind brings to surface.
He wonders about how things are back in his hometown during this time of the year, how his grandparents are managing by themselves - although both have been aging well and actively seek to take care of themselves, he’ll never not worry about their state. In his absence, anything could happen and although the thought is awfully grim, he’s no less concerned over their well-being; in his mother’s absence, they took care of him and brought him up as if he was their very own child, so how could he not worry, when all he wished for was to reciprocate their kindness and love?
A quiet sigh is breathed out, the end of that train of thought being marked by the decision to call the elderly couple next thing in the morning. That way, he could get some peace of mind, even if just for a short while.
With another silent breath exhaled, Yixing carefully turns to lay on the side, coming to face Jaehwan as he did so. It’s almost funny how things can take a turn in life, sometimes for the best and other times for the worst. Coming to South Korea was a huge leap of faith to Yixing; it didn’t allow him to accomplish half of the things that he’d set himself up for and left him mostly empty handed at the end of the day. A diploma didn’t grant him anything, it didn’t point him towards some direction to take - it was Daybreak that did, even if the hand that they outstretched to him came years later.
Daybreak brought salvation to Yixing in more than one way, that he knows. From the recluse that he ended up being, it was at the Foundation that he began opening up more, as well as figuring out ways to discover, understand and better various aspects about himself - both in relation to his mutation and his day to day life. There is much that he is grateful for or that he has come to be feeling as such towards ever since he laid foot within the facility’s grounds. Several names will always come to mind, both those of instructors and people he’s met during his stay there but one will always remain most prevalent among all others - that of Jaehwan, who was sleeping soundlessly right beside him.
Laying together in bed like this feels surreal, just as the fact that both of them confessed a little while back; Jaehwan reciprocating the way that he feels still is something which Yixing tries to wrap his finger around. He doesn’t doubt the other, but he seems incapable to understand how or why anyone would take a liking to him in such a way. Yixing doesn’t intentionally place himself in a bad position or allows negative thoughts to slip in, he only tries to piece everything together and figure out just how the two of them made it as far as this.
Less than a year ago, he considered himself to be an entirely different person - closed off, awkward and mostly avoidant of others. How ironic was it that it was during one of the times that he was at his lowest that Jaehwan found him - well, sort of. They didn’t meet like people do in movies by bumping into one another, resulting in one dropping their books due to being knocked over. There was no gathering of volumes and no sudden eye contact that made them fall in love at first sight, rather it was all an accident - Jaehwan mental linked with him. There are no wonder that could describe the initial experience, but what came after can only be summed up in one word: unexpected.
Jaehwan entered Yixing’s life unexpectedly and in a similar manner, he brought change. Through days that were good and those that were bad, things gradually changed - his attitude, feelings and much more. Never before did he want to reach out to others the way that he came to actively desire in the past couple of months, and although using a plural form wasn’t entirely incorrect, there was one person that he sought to be there for most; to help and understand.
A smile overtakes Yixing’s lips unknowingly and his heart beats against his chest, the sound loud enough to ring into his ears - he’s happy, truly and genuinely is. For too long he wandered around in search of some purpose for his life, for something palpable that he could make sense of and he now hopes to have found it; home, represented not by a warm place but a person to turn to. An arm gets tucked under his head for support while the other is left to lay in the space separating him from Jaehwan - one that he wishes to close, one day. He yearns to be close to the other male, not in a way that feels intimate, but just to hold him - to feel Jaehwan close, pressed up against him.
This is the very least that Yixing wishes for, and although the selfish side of him occasionally over-rides those desires with more than can be spoken about, he knows better than to allow himself to be egged on by them; the two of them need to take small steps, to adjust to this newfound change before moving further. He doesn’t mind waiting, not when it feels more than worth the while.
For the time being, he allows himself to relish in the little nothings that the two of them share. Even now, when Jaehwan is asleep, Yixing finds details to cling to and soak in; the rise and fall of the other’s chest, quiet breaths being drawn in, slightly parted lips and the whole of Jaehwan, really. He basks in the younger male’s presence, sighs deeply at the sight of him - what did he do to deserve such a person by his side? No, not just any person but Jaehwan himself; there is nobody else to capture Yixing’s interest in the way that he does, nobody else to bring down all his walls, to slip through all the crevices and fill him up to the brim, blanket him in warmth and, with it, offer him a sense of security.
There is nobody else that compares, even if there is no comparison to make. There is not another person to match up to Jaehwan, even though Yixing doesn’t seek to find somebody else. It’s all him - the two of them, tangled up into one another, a mess of broken strings and bundles of broken nerves. Silently, he vows to protect him - the two of them both - and against his better judgment, Yixing shifts around and leans forward to seal the promise with a light kiss pressed onto Jaehwan’s forehead, offering a quiet, obligatory apology beforehand for his selfish actions and for waking the other up in the process.
There is no other way that he would rather have things, because envisioning himself in a life where Jaehwan isn’t there, is something that Yixing is unable to do.
there are reasons behind her flustered countenance and wide eyes─ reasons that go beyond the stuttering heartbeat of a girl who gains crushes with an unnatural ease. that too has roots in the source of it all; being on the outside looking in by choice has a downside, and that downside is the lack of encounters such as these. it’s strange─ daybreak is full of others like her and yet it’s surprising, to her, to be treated in such a way.
as though she wasn’t strange, being as she is.
if her heart could swell to the size that it feels, it’d likely resemble a hot air balloon.
flattery, much like acceptance, is another thing that leaves her speechless and stunned, incapable of forming the words or giving the reactions that others might think of as common. instead she bites her tongue─ on accident─ trying to come up with what to say. shiru’s much better than she is; it has no expression to change, is incapable of saying anything, though it does give a small, affirmative nod in response.
sana, floundering over what to do with herself, copies the action in turn.
soon she’s shaking her head, words having not come to fruition just yet. it takes a few tries before she gets it right─ a few of which are slip ups of words not in a language that the two of them share. “no, of course not! i was just coming from sending mail out─ it wasn’t anything busying!”
with a shift she lets shiru return to its preferred place, taking position once more on her shoulder. a mirroring inquiry to address if yixing has business of his own to tend to lingers under her tongue, but she isn’t sure how to ask─ not as easily as he had, at least. so she waits after her confirmation, allowing him the chance to get carried away once more. after all, it’s not as though she minds it.
Yixing didn’t think that it would be possible for him to continue to grow more and more endeared by Sana, yet the girl proves him otherwise with the way that she behaves. There is nothing said and even less done, but there’s something about her gestures that has him smiling wide - she truly is cute, there is no doubt about that.
Although it takes a couple moments longer - which he doesn’t mind, likely because he’s busy fixating onto Sana to even notice - an answer comes and Yixing finds himself breathing easy. Knowing that he wasn’t holding Sana back from anything important was good, for one. It also meant that he could voice out his thoughts from earlier, now that his worries had been dissipated by the girls’ words of reassurance - were they that? He thinks them to be, at least.
“I’m glad! I’d really not like to be keeping you from anything,” a laugh escapes him as a hand’s brought to ruffle through his hair, messing the dark locks up a slight. “I wasn’t really up to much myself, when we came across one another,” he avoids using words such as ‘bumping into one another’ for obvious reasons, considering that it was best to play it safe and not leave any room for bad feelings to resurface on either side.
“I was actually thinking about going out to grab something for lunch,” he offers somewhat contemplatively, even though his mind was already set on where to go and even what to get. “Say, since you’re not up to much... would you like to get something to eat together?” the offer’s now out and Yixing’s smiling bright, content at the thought of having company for a short while. “That’s if you didn’t already have something, of course!”
Hongbin doesn’t hate his life. He never has, has never truly found it in him to regret his existence for any one reason or another. After all, for someone who’s struggled to keep himself afloat for a decidedly important portion of his years, it’d be fairly redundant to wish something like death upon himself over anything.
This moment, uncontested, is the closest he’s ever gotten to reaching that point.
He grits his teeth but somehow prevents himself from outright swatting Yixing’s arm from around him ─ the glare he instead shoots the other is one Yixing’s surely used to by now, which somehow muddles its effectiveness. What he can’t hold himself back from doing is shrugging the elder away at the use of the annoying nickname; it goes without saying that Yixing knows exactly how to push his buttons in even the slightest of ways, and Hongbin isn’t so entirely oblivious that he’d be unaware that it’s exactly what Yixing’s doing, here.
Unfortunately enough, it’s effective because it works so well, regardless of whether or not Hongbin’s aware of it or not. Naturally it renders that knowledge a bit useless, as things go.
He can be naive sometimes but he knows better than to assume that whatever it is that Yixing decides to ask of him would be anything but embarrassing in some way or another. He’s expecting it, bracing himself for whatever it is that Yixing’s plotting behind that grin of his ─ but it’s pointless, because the words that come out of Yixing’s mouth might as well be in Chinese seeing as for a few moments, Hongbin has no idea what he just heard.
“You what?” There’s no need to repeat it ─ rather, there’s no time given to repeat it; the way Hongbin’s expression falls into something more resembling that of ‘I’d very much like to strangle you right now’ than any kind of look that should be directed towards a friend makes it clear enough that he’s heard the request (order, really) well enough.
He wants to say no. He wants to say hell no, even, the words so strongly on his tongue that it takes him biting down just to keep them from casting themselves into existence. There’s no point; he knows good and well that whatever the resulting punishment is, it’d be worse (somehow ─ god) than what he’d already was meant to deal with.
This isn’t gonna stop him from hating every last second of it, though. Not by a long shot. It’s gonna echo in his scowl and the way he growls out the words to that ridiculous nursery rhyme (words that he actually stumbles and pauses over multiple times; does Yixing know how long it’s been since he’s heard that shit? Does he realize how long ago early primary school was?), but it’ll be just as easily be found by the way his brows furrow in annoyance, his motions (mistaken easily enough for ‘dancing’) mechanical and so clearly forced.
If Yixing forgets to press record during the whole thing, then wouldn’t that a blessing?
There are times in an individual’s life when nothing and nobody will come to their aid to spare them from certain situations, particularly those that are embarrassing. Case in point being the mess in which Yixing willingly, almost devilishly roped Hongbin into – against his own will, one might be inclined to say, though his word had been given prior to all of this. Both of theirs, really.
Regardless of nasty looks cast, of words sputtered in disbelief and of how much one would wish death upon themselves to be released from the tight grasp which the realm of idiot has on them, such a thing doesn’t happen. Yixing’s standing several feet away from Hongbin, grinning from ear to ear as he holds his phone with extra care than usual; he doesn’t forget to hit the record button, neither does his battery look as if it’s going to die anytime soon.
It stands at exactly 99%, tauntingly almost – unbeknownst to Hongbin, at least.
Each second that the device recorded onto its memory was precious and Yixing would make sure that it stays there as a prized possession of sorts – just that it wasn’t exactly something to cherish in a way people would do objects, rather it’d be exactly like those embarrassing pictures from one’s childhood that parents bring up at parties; one side looks at them fondly, while the other loathes them with the whole of their being.
The agonizing moment draws to a conclusion in a matter of minutes, prolonged only by the pauses and mistakes made here and there by Hongbin; it still went by uninterrupted, so it was as good as anything else, no matter what mistakes or mess-ups occurred. The stop button is hit and as if to check that all is fine and well with the recording, Yixing quickly taps onto the screen to bring it up. Now, if he was able to contain himself during the recording, now was a whole other story. When put face to face with the priceless prize that he’s earned for himself – through fairplay, too – he is quick to break into a fit of giggles, much to Hongbin’s annoyance.
“Hey, Binnie—“ it takes a moment for him to gather himself and not completely go all out, though it get exponentially easier when he turns the phone around to show Hongbin the end result of his hard work. “You’ve got some true talent right there,” Yixing doesn’t believe what he’s saying, but that doesn’t stop him from picking on the other for a little while longer. Better enjoy it while it lasts, because he might be the next one being put in a position like that. “Even thought of enrolling for dance classes? You’d do great.”
It doesn’t need to be voiced out for Yixing to know that he’s been sent to Hell ten times over in the past twenty seconds.
Correction: usually Kyungsoo wouldn’t accept any kind of excuse for the crime that the stranger committed, but then it’s the name of the game that catches his attention and Kyungsoo looks up from where he’s carefully also gathering his poor dead babies along with some earth. He blinks once, twice and widening just the slightly bit his eyes in the process. There’s a memory somewhere about Kyungsoo’s brother calling him an owl every time he widened his eyes because they were naturally huge, obviously even bigger when the dragon shifter made them be and his mother always smiled, adding that Kyungsoo was indeed a cute owl and that would be one of these moments that his brother would probably call him an owl again in a teasing manner but that isn’t relevant so of course that the younger mutant just pushes it down again. He recognizes the name of the game because he also has it on his phone due to his own weakness for kittens and it was a way to satisfy his craving, even if a bit, for having one.
Kyungsoo sort of understands the distraction now.
“Oh.” He says and decides that he’ll comment more about the app when they’re alone again because he doesn’t need to admit that he has a cute app game of kittens that you only watch them “play” in your yard, checking it up once in a while in a place that he actually has his icy reputation to keep. If there’s one thing that Kyungsoo understands is the need of discretion and that’s why he doesn’t argue when the other asks that they go somewhere else. “Of course.” He says easily enough and takes one of the plastics used to wrap the bouquets and gives one to the stranger. “To make moving all this easier.” Kyungsoo clarifies just in the case before transferring a part of the mess on the floor that they managed to gather and in no time, they’re moving again and Kyungsoo sends another glare to the costumers like making sure no one would dare to stare at them before guiding the other to the back room where they kept more flowers, usually too young to be sold just yet or the ones who haven’t bloomed yet and also where arranged the deliveries and bouquets that were ordered in the store.
He puts the remains of what was supposed to be pots filled with earth and the sprouts that barely had the opportunity to see the outside world. “If,” Kyungsoo starts because he’s terrible at this talking thing. “Marshmallow was on the maple pillow, I might be a little more willingly to forgive you.”
Perhaps there is such a thing a second chances, because Yixing is certain that he’s just gotten one – it feels like a miracle in itself, given the looks which the other male was giving him earlier. If anything, he swore that he looked as if he was ready to scorch him alive. The saying “If looks could kill” surely applied to this situation, or to whatever remnants remained of it. Nonetheless, Yixing is more than pleased with the turn of events and so he quickly acts out and helps the other with piling up the remaining mix of soil and plants onto the sheet of plastic.
“Thank you,” is murmured quietly enough only for the other male to hear, gratitude conveyed for a consensus being found. The two of them carefully navigate towards the back and, since Yixing was the one supposed to be walking backwards, he takes extra care for things to not go bad for a second time; he’d not want to push his luck. If second chances are a possibility, then third ones are a rarity; this depends on the person, of course.
As the plants and soil are placed into individual plots, Yixing can’t help but chuckle at what is said – it immediately feels like a mistake, so he rapidly apologizes. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh, I just didn’t expect you to say that,” furthermore, he didn’t expect to find another fan of the game in a place like this, though that’s something which he keeps for himself. It feels a bit ironic that the two of them would come to bond exactly over the thing that landed them in this troublesome position to begin with. “I can always check after I tend to the plants,” it wouldn’t be long before then, since the two of them worked quick and most pots were now filled up.
“Is Marshmallow your favorite?” curiosity can’t help but seep in, because coincidence had it that the same cat was a personal favorite of his.
Many people would probably consider listening to someone talk about themselves as a pretty high item on the ‘don’t too much of’ list, but it’s something Hoseok loves. He loves people, loves hearing people talk about their past, their present, whatever future they have in mind ─ he loves it far much more than he’d ever love talking of himself, for sure. It’s certainly no matter of being withdrawn or too afraid to open up to others; it’s just that, in Hoseok’s eyes, he’s far more interested in other people than he is with himself. He’s always been that way ─ sure he can rattle someone’s ear off talking about things sometimes, but it’s not because of any relation to him. It always involves friends or family, things he likes (not because he likes them, but because he thinks they’re worth sharing); never explicitly him. Never purposefully Jung Hoseok.
Even with this intimate setting with nothing but Yixing and the night’s air listening, this fact remains true: he’s far more interested in listening to tales of Yixing’s life than he is of painting stories of his own.
(He’s not that great of an artist, anyway.)
He’s just as thoroughly engaged with even the smallest of details that Yixing utters that it actually catches him off guard when the attention’s turned towards him in a manner that Hoseok would claim unexpected. He blinks, the surprise evident in his ever-open expression, but soon enough he’s smiling in almost a shy manner, scratching at his cheek a little.
“Ahh, me? It’s nothing much, really. My sister and I both grew up in Seoul with our parents,” He neglects to mention that they don’t biologically share a father, but it’s not that he means to; most of the time, he truthfully forgets that fact, himself. “I lived there, went to high school and college there… now I’m here!”
He laughs a little, sheepish in sound ─ he’s well aware of how that probably sounds. “It’s not really far away or anything, so I never feel homesick for it ─ maybe for my parents sometimes, but Seoul is just a train ride away, y’know?”
A laugh almost finds its way past Yixing’s lips due to the way in which Hoseok reacts. He wouldn’t be laughing at him in a condescending way, rather it’s accompanied by a warm feeling – he was endeared. It was always the person that tried their best to take care of others, be it by listening or directly trying to offer help, that forgot about themselves and how important they are, too.
He is silent all the while that Hoseok speaks, pays close attention to each and every word that is said, all while a smile resided on his lips. It might all be presented in short, which speaks for itself, but it’s all soaked in greedily by the elder. In between the lines, he finds common ground between the two of them and for whatever reason there is, Yixing goes on to speak about things on impulse, without a filter. “You’ve been to college in Seoul too, huh?” the smile fades from his lips as the question is asked and his gaze goes astray, moving back to the horizon.
The atmosphere between them shifts, grows heavier – Yixing’s own heartbeat rings in his ears, drowns out the surrounding noise and brings forth memories from just a couple of years back. Teeth sink into his lower lip, they chew at it anxiously as he mulls over the thoughts which swirled through his mind. “There was a time when I used to go there too,” he admits in a quiet tone, gaze transfixed onto the buildings in the distance. “It wasn’t easy,” he’s not going into specifics, but one thing stands out clear even now: things still aren’t easy, they haven’t gotten to be as such even as time passed him by; it didn’t ease up the pain felt.
On some day, it subsided – became latent, but it never went away. It lays there, slumbering and waiting for the next time when it would surface, when sharp talons would slice into skin and give reminders of one’s true state. Of a condition that’s been long repressed, put under lock and key and pushed to the back of Yixing’s mind. Hands join together, only to unfold moments later – to have nails dig into skin, scrape at it just as teeth did with his lips.
“I…– How did you find it?” he’s not looking at Hoseok and as the seconds pass, he’s certain that he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not while that half-pained feeling was present.
If Kang Joon were even slightly more lucid than he is now, he’d probably be able to tell that the man wasn’t particularly happy with his embarrassing display. But the thing is, Kang Joon is anything but rational at the moment—at this moment, he seems to be losing the fight against the force of gravity—and so he unfortunately cannot spare a thought to memorise the man’s face, let alone interpret the expression on it.
He’s said he was going to leave before, but it appears he’s not particularly aware of it, because although he’s now looking away from the guy, he hasn’t taken a step towards either right or wrong direction. In fact, he’s simply standing right in front of the man—Yixing, did he say his name was?—his side facing the latter as he tries his hardest to shake the confusion from his mind (this is done by the physical shaking of his head, but that only gives him more of a headache, and so he clutches his forehead in agony).
And if Kang Joon were even slightly more lucid, he’d have held back the scoff that rolls off his tongue at the latter’s statement of the obvious. He’s in enough pain and lethargy to know that he’s not in his best shape at the moment, and having the latter tell him something that he knows like the back of his hand is somewhat rubbing salt into his wounds—and boy, does he feel like he’s covered with wounds at the moment.
It’s not a surprise that he’s late in processing Yixing’s question, similar to how he’d processed the latter’s expression of concern, and so he tries to stall, “my room? My room, my room, myroom—”
It’s like a metaphorical lightbulb lights up, because his eyes widen—though only marginally—and he says loudly, “my room! Uh, yeah. I need to get back to my room. That’s— that’s where I’m heading right now, actually. I think.”
Kang Joon sniffs, rubs his nose, and then turns towards Yixing and puts his hand on the latter’s shoulder, “I’m going back to my room. I think it’s in… uhm… it’s on the first floor… uh… E…1…? You— you shouldn’t visit though. It’s uh, dangerous.”
With eyes closed, he nods, as though reaffirming his last statement. He lets go of Yixing’s shoulder and begins scratching his scabs again, all with a yawn.
(Luckily he’s wearing his surgical mask, because he’s in no position to remember to cover his parted lips.)
Yixing might not be the best when it comes to acknowledging a lot of details related to his surroundings, but that doesn’t make him a fool – neither is he ignorant, though that’s a whole other topic altogether. Even with the unfavorable condition in which Kangjoon found himself, it stood out clear that he was trying to buy himself some time. Such a choice of action has the elder wonder yet again whether or not his idea was a good one; undeniably, he was growing irritated but that didn’t make him any less willing to lend a hand.
“Right. Well, I don’t want to visit,” he states bluntly, brows furrowing as he frowned. “I want to take you back and make sure you’re fine, that’s all.” The initial statement and the one that just followed were contradicting one another, though they made perfect sense to Yixing and his plan.
Seeing how everything was progressing, it looked unlikely that he would even be able to carry through with the first part of it – or was it second? Point was that taking Kangjoon back to his room was out of the question, especially when there was no specification given on where exactly his room was. The Female Hall is crossed out of the options by default, but there still remained two buildings to visit. Or one question to ask in order to obtain that piece of information.
He wasn’t about to do that and would, much sooner, childishly mock the other for calling his room dangerous.
“Look— Will you hear me out for a moment?” there was half an impulse there to grab Kangjoon’s wrist just to make sure he wouldn’t be going away. It wasn’t as if his pace was the quickest but that was far from the point that was trying to be made here. “You’re sick and I want to help you. Going around like this won’t do you any good, nor any other person that you might come across,” shaking his head, Yixing sighs and tries to get a grip of himself; it didn’t do any good to be angry or assertive at a time like this.
“Will you let me help?” he leaves out any specification on how exactly he would do that, which isn’t too good of an idea. He doesn’t think this one through and thus, fails to realize that the offer – is it even considered to be one? – might be declined.
The seconds feel like hours; this is a sensation to which Jaehwan is accustomed, though that makes it no easier to cope with. The motion of removing Yixing’s blindfold seems to drain all of the energy from his muscles; he has no idea how it’s even possible, where he’s finding the strength to accomplish this from. Then again, he’s quite good at forcing himself into things, isn’t he?
It’s a relief to see Yixing’s face uncovered, but Jaehwan can’t breathe until he opens his eyes; too much is weighing on this moment, on him, and he feels like he could break at any second under that pressure. A few more hour-long seconds tick by, timed to the beeping of the heart monitor, the shrill sound that only makes Jaehwan’s springs wind tighter each time it rings out.
Then everything starts moving again.
It happens all at once – Jaehwan breathes, Yixing takes his hands and manages to tie his throat up in knots again with the gesture, time starts to pass at a more normal rate. The beeping gets faster and more threatening; the lights are suddenly brighter and Jaehwan feels like he may pass out – and yet he’s frozen, completely focused on what Yixing is saying despite all the other stimuli that drum at his mind. Whether this tunnel vision is a virtue or a flaw, he isn’t certain, but it’s keeping him here for now either way.
And yet it only gets harder to breathe – he tries, but his breath comes so shallow that his chest hardly moves with each inhale and exhale. It’s so weird, so surreal – these words are so powerful, but they seem more like they should be coming from Jaehwan than being said to him. His bond with Yixing is strange that way – yet he’s so afraid of that, of what could come of this – he feels as though he’s drowning, as if Yixing himself is drowning him and yet Yixing is the only source of air in the room.
His gaze is blank – he sees Yixing, but he can’t quite focus on anything. His eyes are wide but they’re empty, confused; this is too much, every word of it is too much, the sights and sounds and the feeling of Yixing’s skin against his is far too much.
Jaehwan shrinks back as he starts to shake, desperately trying to hold onto this moment – but it’s hard when the strain on his heart and mind is just too much to bear. He knew this would have to happen, he knew – but he wasn’t ready, and he didn’t expect it this way – he expected those to be his words first, the confession of all these insane and obsessive feelings that’ve made their home inside him.
“I—” he starts, but he can’t continue; his throat is dry and it hurts to speak. “I’m sorry, I – I c-can’t –” too much, it’s too much.
He stands suddenly, pulling his hands away from Yixing; his body sways uneasily despite him. “I h-have to – think,” he tries to explain himself, despite knowing it’s going to be heard wrong without a shadow of a doubt. “I’m not – I wasn’t ready for –” Jaehwan shakes his head, taking a step backwards as he stares at the ground – he’s panicking.
“G-give me – a bit,” he stammers, clasping his hands together tightly enough that it almost hurts – remembering the feeling of Yixing’s hands in his. He wants to be alone – it’s all he can do not to bolt here and now – but if he upsets Yixing further after all of this – he’s not sure he’ll be able to live with himself.
Everything seems picture-still and walls feel as if they are closing in on him. The all-too-familiar sensation of his lungs getting crushed returns and just like Jaehwan before him, Yixing finds himself struggling to breathe. His eyes grow wide bit by bit and his lips part, but no words leave them; he can’t protest or say anything for that matter. The only sound that echoes throughout the room is the beeping of the machine to which he is still connected, which grows rapider as Yixing’s heart begins to rattle against the constraint of his ribcage.
The realization that timing might’ve not been the best for the confession to happen slowly sinks in and with it, his shoulders and gaze both drop. Yixing can’t face Jaehwan, not like that, not when the other is unresponsive. While certain things are unable to go through verbally, they are shared between the pair by the link which ties them together – it’s felt strongly on both ends, painfully so. There is unspoken awareness over the smaller details that don’t make it out to the surface, those that are never easy to be voiced out for a variety of reasons. Anxiety bubbles up within Jaehwan and it shakes Yixing up in turn, making every heartbeat send ripples throughout his entire body.
Yixing knows a lot more than he’d ever want to admit to himself, but he chooses to ignore those details in his selfishness – the marks which are marred into Jaehwan’s skin, dark thoughts that are looming over him and everything in between that results the state in which the other currently in. Fumbling fingers trying to grasp for some sense of semblance, for security – they pull at frayed edges of a shirt far too large, which hangs loose around frail bones. He is uncertain on what hurts most, be it the crushing silence or his own ignorance.
When the first words surface, the atmosphere grows thicker, tenser. Jaehwan’s hand slips out of his own and Yixing’s head immediately snaps up towards the other, his expression consisting of a mix between shock and hurt. No matter how much he tries to tell himself that this is his fault, some part of him can’t help but disagree; something inside him breaks with each tremor of Jaehwan’s words, with how broken they leave the younger’s lips. “I’m sorry—“ the apology is silent, his hands join together similarly to how the other’s did and press together tightly. The vacuous space left behind isn’t just there, in the empty spaces between his hands but within his chest – between crevices, right in the middle where his heart is supposed to be.
“I— I really am sorry,” he pauses, swallows thickly, “I— I shouldn’t—“ the sentence can’t be completed, because Yixing doesn’t truly regret confessing. His thoughts on the matter are twisted around and he can’t figure out how to properly express them; the least he wants is to word himself wrong and make things worse than they already are, too. He breathes, inhales deeply and exhales just as deep, tries to tell himself that it’s alright and hopes that it passes on to Jaehwan too; calmness hardly works to quiet down a stormy sea, though.
“I-It’s alright,” he tries to tell this to himself too, just like he did all those times before; it’s alright and if not, it will be alright soon enough. “I— understand. T-Take as much time as you need.” but please come back.
He gives Yixing a weak glance- smile still in place. He’s got kind words. He’s a good guy with good words whose trying his best. There well placed words… They’re meant kindly but… They’re wrong. He props his face on his palm- clawed fingers curling just a little upwards to touch his cheek. He runs his tongue over his fangs. “Yeah… It sucks, I guess… But…” There’s a weak shake of his head. “I know I’m to blame for a lot of this. He– I mean… She didn’t like me. I knew that much and all that. I guess I forced it on her somehow- my feelings that is. It’s really crazy far in the past but—”
He blinks. His heart drops. Yeah, for some reason it hurts more. He can remember everything that he went through for him. Was it really worth it? For someone who never cared about him- who made HIM do things he didn’t want? Was he the one who forced things? Really? He’s not sure. He can’t find the blame and the fault. He’s confused about how angry he is and how lonely. The feelings are still stuck in him because he’s horrible at letting go- Mutagen made sure of that. They used it to their advantage. But… His feelings are also elsewhere. They’re… Off. He’s aware of Hongbin- very. He’s far from blind to the fact that it’s similar to the way he felt about Kyung. But is that really worth talking about? Hongbin’s… not like Kyung, right? Yet Wonshik still treats it like they’re the same. He would do all of the same things for Bin that he did for Kyung.
He’d go back to that awful place for Bin.
“I did a lot for him.” He doesn’t catch himself talking because his mind is far to gone. “A lot of crazy shit because I was crazy over my head for him. I basically died for the fucker. I guess I’m still not over him… But… I am. I’m mad at him too. I’m angry and I miss him all at once. I know I shouldn’t… But I don’t… I’m sorry. I’m going on about this shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with it.” He comes back- head shaking violently. “Sorry Hyung. I’m sorry. Seriously, don’t think anything about this shit.”
Although he’s paying close attention to what is being told, Yixing can’t help but let his eyes wander along Wonshik’s arm. The hand might be clasped around it, clutching hard and pressing against the open wounds but it doesn’t seem to suffice. For a moment, he considers offering to help with that once again; it’s something that he will act up on and speak about once the time comes for it. Hopefully that would be soon, since this feels too casual for comfort.
There are pauses made in between, a correction made over the pronoun used – this is acknowledged, but not paid attention to until much later on when the switch is permanent. There was no girl that Wonshik was talking about, rather a guy. At best, this is an observation made and nothing more; it doesn’t feel out of place and, truthfully speaking, Yixing was not a person that would judge others based off of their gender preference. That was a topic where he was trying to sort out his own feelings, after all.
“It’s not something that’s forced onto me, so don’t worry. I wouldn’t ask you about it, if I didn’t want to hear what you had to say,” a comforting smile is cast at the white-haired mutant as a nod of the head accompanies the words spoken, “I’ve… never been in a position like yours, so maybe I can’t relate to things entirely or come to understand them fully. I know that these types of wounds hurt the most, that they take a while for you to heal from, but time heals. And what time can’t heal, we have to try and work on by ourselves.”
The end of this small speech is marked by a sigh, and Yixing finds himself shifting into a sitting position, with hands pressing to the floor as he leans back slightly. “It’s foolish for me to say this, but you have to try and be less hard on yourself. Take it from me, it won’t get your anywhere,” a short, dry laugh leaves his lips at that; he might laugh about it now, but this will come back to bite him at a later point. It always does. “Say, though— Do you mind if I have a look at your arm? You look like you could use a bit of patching up.”
Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer… yeah, let’s go with that. Her skin crawled as she watched the crow jump forward on the sidewalk on the display of her camera, but even so she couldn’t stop. Despite the genuine repulsion, it was equally interesting. Much like learning how someone ticks, she had a desire to figure these awful avians out. If only for a better understanding of how to take them down. Yeri had to focus the camera on something else for a second. The massive urge to kill, or maybe it was hunt, took her by complete surprise and left her standing there, dumbfounded, for a couple of seconds. What the hell was that? Fairly less eager to indulge in whatever sick fantasies that went through her head she pointed the camera back just in time to see the dark bird fly away and perch itself on the nearest roof. That was… weird. And fucking insane.
Before closing the video camera she zoomed in at the sight of something familiar, and a small smile curved across her lips when she saw who it was. Still in full zoom she moved closer, her mirth hidden beneath the mask over her face, but eyes twinkling when she advanced. The smaller the distance between them, the harder it was to swallow a giggle. By now all she could see were half his eyes and his nose, which by all means was a humorous sight. Luckily she was still recording and would keep this amusing side of Zhang Yixing forever. Maybe this could even prove to be good blackmail material, if she ever needed something from him. Nothing sinister, of course, she’s not a crook. Just… an opportunist. Yeah, she liked the sound of that. For good measure she lowered the camera and angled it ever so slightly upwards for the money shot – right up his nostrils. That’s enough for her to chuckle, and that’s about the distance she felt comfortable raising one hand in a friendly greeting.
“Hey, Yixing, there’s something I need to tell you.” She put on a more neutral face, voice rather grave compared to her previous joy. But mischief was glimmering in her eyes regardless, like those people who started laughing at their own jokes before they had even gotten to the end of them. “I can see straight up your nose with this thing, and its crawling with boogers.” A lie, of course, but she couldn’t let this opportunity slip past her precious little fingers. Who knows, maybe he even believed her. She was an awfully helpful person. With that said she pressed the button again to end the recording, made sure the video was there and then turned the camera off, stuffing it back into her bag. “They’re awfully pretty, though. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Everything about you’s fine as day, why should your boogers be any different.” By now she didn’t hide her chuckle, and she raised her shoulders to her ears harmlessly. “Nah, I’m just joking. What’s up? Everything good?”
The day finds Yixing out and about, crossing through Incheon’s streets in search of a few clothing items to buy and, perhaps, a coffee shop to stop by after to try and grab something to eat. It was long past lunchtime and although a meal was overdue, Yixing didn’t stop by any of the restaurants or coffee shops he encountered, opting instead to go down along the road and keep an eye out for a specific shop.
News about it was carried among some of his colleagues at work, with clothes being imported and then sold at pretty cheap prices compared to what one would usually find in a store; this was more than sufficient to grab his attention, because the day when he’d pass up on a good offer has yet to come. Truthfully speaking, if the clothing articles truly were as cheap and varied as he heard, then he might bring others around to get something for themselves too or, maybe he could make note of some products to buy as presents. Regardless of the case, his options would be kept open.
His attention snaps back from the display of a shop as his name gets called out, eyes blinking a couple of times before settling on the person that addressed him. His expression is neutral - blank, even - and it takes a good couple of moments to register exactly who the person is, as well as what she said. “Wha--” the grave tone used by the other, paired up with the statement which followed after had Yixing’s expression shift between shock and confusion in a matter of seconds. His first impulse is to reach up and wipe his nose and he’s nearly halfway into doing that when a compliment’s tossed at him; it’s untimely and it serves to further his confusion.
A little light shines down upon him, bringing clarity to the situation - this was a harmless joke, nothing more and nothing less. A delayed laugh leaves his lips while he shakes his head, biting back the initial urge to scold Yerim; it was pointless to do it when her act was a playful one, not one intended to bring harm of offense. It would be foolish for him to get mad over a joke too, so the whole train of thought gets dismissed.
“You really got me there,” he admits with a nod and a smile, Same old, really. What about you? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, after all.” a look is cast past the cascade of red that flowed down the girl’s shoulders, brown orbs scanning the vicinity of the area for the shop he was searching for or for a place where the two of them could retreat for a bit and sit down for a chat over a warm drink. “You busy with something?” Yixing figures to ask before making an offer, just in case,
Yixing will never deem himself as a person that enjoys training. Since he is one of the potentials that has, ironically, some of the least potential at fighting, he is often asked to remain after training sessions are over to do overtime – sometimes alone, other times in the company of others. However, this time around he shows interest in it because of another one of Daybreak’s residents: Adachi Yuto.
It’s not fighting per se, rather it’s weapon training. In this case, it involves the use of katanas, though they are replaced by wooden swords so that accidents are avoided by inexperienced users. Even with a sword that was a mere wooden replica, Yuto showed great skill and extreme precision with it, since blows were always delivered swiftly and skillfully – the target was never missed and although it was unmoving, it was no less impressive to watch the younger male train. It was the passion behind the act itself that gave each move its particular charm and thus, made it enticing.
From his spot on the ground, Yixing silently watched the other as he moved around the target dummy, jabbing or slashing at it from various sides and angles. His eyes trailed after the younger male, a spark of curiosity lights up into brown orbs at an idea that suddenly comes to mind. Against all odds, it’s him that waits for the swordsman to finish up training before he stands up and steps up towards the other.
“Hey, do you think you could teach me how to wield a sword like that?” the question is short and straight to the point, accompanied by a rather wide grin. “I mean, not the exact same but maybe show me how to do a thing or two? Something like that.”
The forecast had said nothing of rain today; Hyeyeon was sure of it. She bit her bottom lip as she looked down, her hands fiddling with each other uncomfortably as she attempted to weigh her options without letting reality get the best of her. There were a handful of choices she could pick, the most sensible ones were either to take the bus or taxi home, but that would mean getting wet or handing out cash she sort of needed to get by for the month; she could also attempt to walk home or wait for the rain to subside, but neither seemed rational.
This all could have been avoided if you’d been cautious enough to bring along an umbrella just in case. Her eyebrows furrowed angrily together, or as angrily as Hyeyeon would allow herself to appear in public. Still frustrated, she tried peering down the road to see how far the nearest stop would be, but in the darkness she could only see a few stores ahead of her. She resisted the urge to cry at the thought of ruining her clothes and everything else she’d devoted effort into for today.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled her shawl closer to herself and steeled her heart to run in the rain with her heels, but jumped as an umbrella slowly slid into view. “Oh!” Surprise lit up her face, but it was mostly relief that sparkled in her eyes at Yixing’s timely appearance. Her eyes crinkled into twin moons and a dimpled smile made its way to her lips as she pressed her hands together in a thankful, pleading gesture. “Yes, yes I do! I didn’t think it would rain, and yet…”
Hands still together, she began to bow furiously. “I don’t think the rain will stop soon, and my house is too far from here, so if you could at least walk me to the nearest bus stop, I would be so grateful!”
Luck shines down on him and his approach is not regarded in a negative manner, which suffices to dissipate all worries. Shoulders slump down a slight in relaxation, a breath is exhaled in relief and the smile persists onto his lips while he steps by the girl’s side. The umbrella leans more towards her side rather than his, which doesn’t yet matter; not until the two of them set off from under the safety which the sunshade awning of the shop offered them.
Momentarily, Yixing’s head turns away from the girl to look ahead, then from one side to the other in order to survey the area; if memory served him right, it was a little further off to the left. Depending on how fast they walk, it could take them maybe 5 minutes to get there at a leisurely pace. From then on, it’s a matter of waiting for the bus to arrive, after which he can return home; there was no way that, after dropping her off at the bus stop, he would leave the girl by herself.
His train of thought continues for a couple of moments more, only to be interrupted by the realization that he spaced out on her – they don’t know one another’s name either, now that he thinks about it. That had to be fixed at some point.
Blinking, Yixing slowly comes to look back at her and offers her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sorry! I got a bit caught up in my own thoughts for a moment there,” he admits somewhat sheepishly and fights the urge to bring a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “I’ll happily walk you to the bus stop, though. It’s not too far from here,“ a pause is made as his index finger is pointed towards the left (it would’ve been better if it was that from his free hand, rather than from the one which held the umbrella), “Maybe 5 minutes away, or so? Something like that.”
Another look is cast to the left side, past the girl – not that she hindered him in any way, given her stature – after which his gaze falls back onto her. “Ready when you are,” his arm extends to her, sending an open invitation for them to be linked together before setting off.
A brow raises. He’s not sure what it is he’s supposed to know about Yixing in particular, but whatever it is, he doesn’t know it. He thinks.
Shrugs are the main method of communication as far as Hongbin goes, so there’s no surprise in that he shrugs off the thought now, opting instead to throw a look to the elder as if he were asking the question with his slightly confused tint of an expression. The extra display of sadness was something that threw him all the more for a loop ─ thankfully, it’s not long before he doesn’t have to think about it any more.
Yixing’s good to go, and that’s all Hongbin’s been waiting for.
A grin mirrors across his own lips at the terms ─ easy, as far as he sees it. His confidence isn’t meaningless; he knows he’s not slow, and the pride he puts into his own natural abilities is usually on par with the pride put into his mutation. Hongbin slips his phone from his pocket, swiping along it a few times before setting up a timer. It’d get in his way if he held onto it the entire time though, so it’s set aside as he picks up from the app’s ten second countdown.
“On go, yeah? … Four… three… two… one ─ go!”
And he does.
A few minutes later, he’s doubled over, panting with his palms to his knees. Sweat beads along his skin, but that’s hardly the source of the taste of salt on his tongue:
It’s the bitter fact that he lost.
It takes no more than a couple of minutes for the victor to this challenge to be declared. The two of them seemed to be evenly matched for a good part of the laps that were run, only for things to take a turn as the end drew closer – Yixing was far from being out of breath, he conserved his energy well and thus sprinted towards the finish line when there were just a few hundred meters left to go over.
He emerges victorious from the race, throws his arms up in the air once he stops running and, opposed to Hongbin, tastes the sweetness of victory on his tongue. The two of them were renowned for doing a variety of ridiculous challenges every so often, some more ridiculous than others; this was on the lighter side, or would be if it wasn’t for the sudden reminder that Yixing could now ask Hongbin to do something. Anything – his mind could run as free as it wished, so he allows himself to search for an idea that would be most suiting as a request.
The grin that overtakes his lips speaks for itself.
Casually, he steps over to the other and slings an arm around Hongbing’s shoulders to drawing him closer. “So! Since I managed to beat you at this,” the words are carefully punctuated, since there was no use in relishing in this if a bit of salt wouldn’t be poured onto an open wound. Yixing is far from being cruel, he thinks – this is nothing more than a playful jab. “You have to do something for me now, Binnie.”
A bit of a dramatic pause is purposely made, meant to rile the other up more; it doesn’t help with how unsettling the grin is, either. “I want you to sing the ‘I’m a little teapot’ song, while dancing along to the lyrics,” it’s difficult not to burst out into laughter at the foolishness that the request was, though Yixing manages to keep himself in check for the most part. Give or take the short bursts of chuckling, at least.
“Right, though! You’ll do all that while I record you with my phone,” on cue, he draws back and begins to search himself for the respective object. It’s fished out from the side-pocket of his shorts and dangled in front of Hongbin in a taunting manner, “I’m ready whenever you are!”
Jaehwan’s fingernails dig at his thighs, seeking relief from the mixture of heavy feelings that swirl in the air and clutch at his insides; he feels empty yet impossibly full, like thoughts and feelings are flowing out of him as quickly as they come in. His mind’s like a sieve, holding onto the impurities and imperfections of the flood that rushes through him – he can’t help but dwell a few seconds too long on the painful and intrusive things, but those, too pass on.
Yixing’s words, too, remain in his mind; the urge to cry, the painful tightness in his chest, those things aren’t lost on him, either. This isn’t easy – rather than somehow enjoying it, finding relief in it, Jaehwan naturally balks at the knowledge he’s afforded. He doesn’t want to know so much; he doesn’t want to get lost in those things, to find something darker there. The urge to isolate himself rises up, making his muscles tighten like they’re ready to snap; perhaps they are.
Even though there’s no way to meet the other’s eyes, he can’t bear to look up as Yixing speaks; Jaehwan’s body shakes weakly, instead, as he tries to hold himself together. No part of him faults Yixing, here; this is only half-sensible. Yixing is a victim to this as much as anyone, more than many others – more than Jaehwan himself. There’s nothing he should apologize for and yet he does – something about that hurts.
Home. The word strikes Jaehwan at an odd angle, leaves him frozen and blinking at nothing for a moment; where is it that Yixing wants to go? Is this something Jaehwan can do – or is he useless, as well? For Jaehwan, nothing quite comes to mind at the word “home” – no place, to be sure. Daybreak is the nearest to a home that he’s ever known, with people who he’s close to and cares for – it’s frightening, too. Everything is frightening, it seems; Jaehwan has yet to find a place he truly feels safe, not even here.
He can’t bring himself to speak, but he looks up when Yixing asks for him – Jaehwan knows he’d jump to do anything he can to help. He’s not sure if he feels somewhat responsible for what happened or if he’s merely empathizing as usual, or maybe this just has to do with how painfully strong his feelings toward Yixing are, but it’s a fact nonetheless.
Yet the request that’s given makes him stiffen up even further, breath halting. There’s a conflict in his mind for that moment that he doesn’t breathe: an intrusive part of him that’s immensely satisfied to be of use, to be asked for in such a desperate voice, and the rest of him which is frozen utterly in fear. There’s something about this request, this gesture, that feels – intimate, that’s the word that makes him feel dizzy to think.
“I – I can – do that,” his voice breaks as he speaks – he knows that regardless of these thoughts and fears, he would still comply with that request.
It’s hard to breathe as he pushes forward in his seat, fingers hesitating as they come to circle around Yixing’s face; what is he afraid of? Jaehwan is only certain that he’s not afraid of what he’ll find behind the blindfold – not for his own sake, maybe for Yixing’s. There’s the fear of touch, the fear of closeness – a connection forms somewhere in his mind between those things, but he doesn’t yet take time to dwell on it – something heady about how small Yixing seems like this, how powerful this gesture is. One of these things, at least, makes his hands tremble with anxiety, a clammy feeling spreading on his palms; his touch is feather-light when his fingertips finally brush against the back of the gauze blindfold.
“I-I—” his tongue feels thick; words are hard to form; there is no confidence to be found in his expressions. “I’m – going to do it.”
And so, with trembling fingers, he does.
Yixing is perfectly conscious of how strenuous his request is and of just how much he’s asking from the other. He feels it down to his very core – anxiety is not one-sided, but shared in between the two of them for different reasons. His mouth’s run dry, like parched soil on torrid summer day, his tongue felt heavy and if any other words were supposed to come out, then they were far from surfacing anytime soon.
Nervousness bubbles up, ripples through his entire body and causes him to shake when he feels fingers dip under the cloth. Yixing is supposed to be happy, isn’t he? To be excited for this long-awaited moment, yet he’s the furthest thing from that. Memories dating back by a week resurface, on how he was allowed to leave the medical ward only to be drawn back in due to his condition that wasn’t improving. Would the outcome be the same now? If so, he’d not know what to do with himself; he didn’t want to remain locked away for another day.
Hope is all that he has, for things to end up different this time around.
The inevitable happens as the darkened cloth is slowly unfolded and removed from around his eyes. Although they remain closed – he hesitates in opening them – Yixing feels a difference in how the light falls onto his face. It causes him to wince and hands reach up immediately to shield over the hooded orbs. First, they cover them up, then they rub at them and lastly, the pair is drawn back as his eyes slowly blink open. Darkness turns to light, shapes and colors are blurred out, partly blended together but he can see – he can see, he is seeing and this causes a mix of emotions to swirl within him, gather up and then cascade over him all at once.
Hands tremble as he fixates onto them, vision becoming less and less blurry with every time that he blinks. Slowly, steadily his eyesight adjusts to the light in the room and every shape begins to gain contour. A breath leaves his lips as his gaze moves upward a slight, only to snap towards Jaehwan as soon as the realization that he was there sunk back in – they’re there together, he isn’t alone anymore. He is the first person to see after a far too lengthy period of time when his visage was shrouded in darkness – him, his best friend and the very person that he’s come to offer some semblance to home.
Already outstretched arms reached forward, fingers curling themselves against the very fabric that shielded his visage, peeling it away before reaching around the hands of the other and grasping them in an all-too-tight hold. Tears well at the corners of Yixing’s eyes and his breath hitches, words leaving him choked out with a sob. “Jaehwan, I’m—Thank you, thank you,” initially, there was an impulse there to apologize for asking for too much and even then, for overstepping boundaries – for reaching out so greedily, taking hold of Jaehwan’s hands and now, bringing them to his face while leaning in and sinking a slight. It’s still there, that apology, and it lies somewhere at the back of his mind, put on constant repeat for the things that he is doing; for this selfishness that surfaces.
The first tear slides down along Yixing’s cheek and along with it come out the very few words that belonged to a string of hardly coherent sentences, to fragments of things that have long been repressed and held back from being addressed. “You’ve always been here for me, you— you never stopped, not even when things got rough on your end. It didn’t matter what happened to me, to you or to us— you never left my side and I can’t bring myself to thank you for that. For entering my life and…” words trail off as his gaze lifts up and his posture straightens, fingers brushing lightly over the other’s knuckles – Jaehwan’s hands were still within his own, held onto a little tighter than before.
Yixing exhales deeply, only to then breathe in just as deep – fills up his lungs, stalls for a couple moments more before resuming what he was saying, “For giving me a reason to keep going when I thought there was nothing left to fight for,” he fights the tears at this point, tries to keep his voice from being shaky but only manages to reduce the volume at which he spoke. “I… spent so many years of my life running away from others, thinking that there was nothing left for me to do here and that all my work would amount to nothing. But Jaehwan, I— don’t want to run away from you,” his eyes fixate onto the other brown pair, holding their gaze even if it comes hard to do so when he’s on the verge of tears. “I— want to be by your side too, to take care of you and—“ his gaze goes astray and his hold onto the other’s hands weakens some, a heavy breath leaving his lips before the heavy, long-awaited confession does.
there’s a hint of hesitation in her speech─ there always is when this in particular comes up. does she remain humble and admit that she was simply the one to bring shiru to life, not the one to have built it, or does she follow the lie by omission and go along with his presumptions, as she is technically one that’d made shiru the way it is now?
which option would sound better to someone like yixing?
“ah, well─” her speech is mild as she shifts in place, deciding to go for the honest option─ how could she not, when he was so much so himself? “building them isn’t… easy. i’m not really at that level, yet.” it’s his own admission and light nature that has her feeling more comfortable than not, any awkward tension in her shoulders melting away with each second that passes. she giggles because of that; his childhood secret is endearing, just as he himself is.
yixing’s polite─ sana knows this through many layers of observation and a careful gaze, but the introduction manages to catch her off guard all the same. eyes widen slightly in confused surprise─ hadn’t she accidentally brought his name up, just moments ago? had he missed it? she’s grateful that he seems to have─ the light traces of shame from earlier dissipate in the slightest now that her blunder was swept under the rug, but that doesn’t stop the twinge of knowing that she’d messed up in the first place.
“ah, yes, i’m─” everything stops. her heart, her breath, and time itself, even. it all freezes by the will of a young girl caught up in a fairy tale-like dream. she’s never a princess, but it’s not hard to imagine herself as a simple, unassuming girl next door that somehow─ somehow caught the attention of someone she liked. someone sweet and kind every time she managed to see him with others (and a bit of a dork, endearingly so, when he’s not). the epitome of unexpected prince-like aura and actions, all wrapped in a bow and placed in front of her, planting lips to her palm as if she were nobility.
the color that rushes to her face heats it up, sets her aflame. she might have been twinged pink before, but she’s nothing less than a darker, telling shade now, and she can do nothing to stop it─ instinct calls to fan herself frantically in an attempt to abate the flushing, but she’s frozen, wide eyes caught by his own.
she stumbles over her words, the short mental malfunction nearly causing her to forget her own name (it is, undoubtedly, too stuck on the fact that he’d asked for it in such a way). “sana,” she finally squeaks, breathing the moment she remembers how. “minatozaki… sana.”
None of the information that was previously offered passes him by, not this time around; even as Yixing’s attention has long shifted from the initial question of curiosity that was asked, the words were made a mental note of, along with several others queries that formed in the aftermath of the relayed explanation.
Presently, the smile on his lips only seemed to widen at the reaction that his was met with, eventually turning into soft laughter – he was endeared by Sana, through and through. Not only was she a sight to behold – cute, he reminds himself – in terms of looks, but her behavior and actions matched up to that.
“You’re really adorable, do you know that?” he doesn’t ask that in order to get a response, rather there’s little filter that Yixing has in those very moments, so his thoughts end up being voiced out without being processed whatsoever. “It’s nice to meet you, though!” the words are as sincere as the (partial) nonsense that was previously said; the question in matter held some factual truth, in his opinion. “Both of you,“ is added sheepishly, in reference to Shiru.
His hand leaves her own and as it’s brought back by his side, the smile from before fades momentarily as his expressions suffers another sudden shift – concern makes a comeback. “Sorry, I got carried away with all the talk— I’m not keeping you from anything, right?” even if that would turn out to not be the case, he would much rather ask and be sure rather than have Sana run late for any potential plans. That and, there might as well be an idea passing through his mind soon as the worries are addressed, but whether or not it would make it out depends on Sana’s answer.
At most, if his worries will be confirmed, then Yixing can breathe easy while knowing that he didn’t come in between any plans which the girl may have. That and he now had an idea in mind for later on – but first, he needs a confirmation of sorts before figuring everything out.
Crystallized mosaics dances over his features. They’re ever in motion, colliding and separating from one another. The soft voice pulls features one by one from her memory. To anybody else seeing a face construct itself this way will be frightening, but for as long as she can think back, faces are always like this to her. She sees his kind eyes, then his cheeks, a dimple, and lastly his moving lips as he talks to her. Ah, yes. This is definitely Yixing. His clothing gives his identity away but there’s something oddly satisfying for her to finally recognize a face after a second or two.
Her eyes light up. “Sorry. Sorry. I don’t know where my head was.” That’s the same explanation she always gives; sometimes multiple times to the same person. “Hi, Yixing,” she finally says his name like a confirmation that yes, she does recognize him after all.
She reaches out and gingerly takes the pot into her hands. The little thing looks so soft despite its needles jutting out all across the surface.
“It’s so nice,” she says, never taking her eyes off of her gift like a small child bewitched by a new toy in their possession. A gift often speaks a lot of both the giver and the receiver. Not only is it telling of the receiver’s interests, but it also speaks of the giver’s careful attention to those interests. The customary thing for anybody is to gift flowers, but he knows well enough to know that Hari enjoys plants of the wilder variety too.
Or maybe she’s reading too much into something that could’ve easily been a haphazard decision.
“Um. Do you want tea? Coffee?” She doesn’t have much else to offer to him in exchange for the plant.
Relief comes moments later, causing all of Yixing’s worries to dissipate. As if on cue, the smile on his lips grows wider, becomes bright and genuine, as opposed to how it was before – he is no longer timid and ridden with worries, which shows in the way that he lights up. It did not matter if the explanation was offered before, if it was something that was put on repeat; he would not pass judgment onto the elder for moments like these, because he is perfectly capable of understanding the root of delayed reactions. There are missing pieces of a puzzle that don’t entirely offer an explanation, but that doesn’t change his stance about things.
The pot leaves his hold, hand being drawn back to rest by his side as its twin did. Brown eyes scan with child-like curiosity over soft features, taking in every little change that they can grasp; if possible, Yixing’s smile only grows wider at the sight, as he feels endeared by Hari and the gentle manner in which the handles the small plant. There’s nothing in her reaction that would tell that the decision was a bad one to settle onto, rather she seems pleased – pleasantly surprised and happy with this new companion that was brought at her doorstep.
Caught up in all these minuscule details, Yixing forgets to return the greeting.
Sheepishly, he brings a hand to the back of his head and scratches over the back of his neck; there’s slight awkwardness behind the gesture, yet in truth he’s really only being coy. “Aah, I’m really glad that you like it! I was hoping that you would,” he admits without hesitation, letting his gaze fall onto the prickly plant as well. As quickly as brown eyes found their way to the gift, they moved away in a similar manner and he blinks – once, twice, thrice – as the offer is presented to him. Right, he came here with something in mind.
As his hand is lowered for a second time, Yixing’s features soften considerably and the smile from before returns to his lips; it’s gentle, filled with warmth that the other provides him with. “Actually… I was wondering if you’d like to come out with me for a bit?” his head tips to the side a bit and brows raise a bit as the question is asked, though there is little time given for a response to be formulated. “There’s a nice coffee shop nearby where we could get a drink and something to eat,” is furthered, not to be more persuasive rather more as a fact – like a passing thought that slips out, accompanied by a thoughtful hum.
