in love with words

The Definition of Marriage

flameflowerful — Mon, 05 Aug 2013 19:22:56 GMT

Title: The Definition of Marriage
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Krisyeol
Summary: Being married to someone who loved someone else did not sound appealing to Chanyeol at all.
Author's Note: Finally. That's the one word I associate with posting this fic up, because this plot has been bugging me for weeks. I've never quite had a story that stuck in my head for so long before, insistently urging me to finish it. I never thought I would write another arranged marriage au fic again (side-eyes my krislay fic from the past). krisyeol marriage!au (also a travel-to-Japan!au).

Whoops. Hmm, it seemed as if he had stumbled onto a rather private moment. Chanyeol, instead of turning the other way, leaned in so that he could see better through the door cracks. Inside the room was a scene out of a classic romance movie, except with two male leads.

The taller of the two was tenderly brushing hair from the other’s forehead. “I really am sorry,” he said. His tone spoke of heartbreak and regret. Chanyeol inched closer; this seemed to be a sad parting scene. This was the part where he would be hunched over the TV, bawling about how the two would be separated from each other by the cruel twist of fate.

"I kind of hate you for doing this to us," the other said, even though his expression had anything but hate in it. The light struck the speaker’s profile, and wow, he was really pretty. Chanyeol held his breath, enraptured.

“I know, Luhan.” And now Chanyeol’s attention was taken back to the tall guy, who had turned so that his face was fully visible to him.

Chanyeol’s stomach dropped like he was on a terrifying rollercoaster ride. He knew this face. He had held this man’s photo in his hands, staring at it wonderingly at night before turning off the lamp.

The couple’s conversation carried on, oblivious to the intruder standing right outside the wooden door.

“Why do you have to do this anyway? Marry someone you don’t even know?” The one called Luhan had his hands clenched in his lover’s shirt, glaring at his chest. Chanyeol flinched a little at the last question.

“It can’t be helped. I have to follow family traditions.”

“It’s stupid.” Luhan twisted his shirt even more. “Stupid, typical filial son.”

“Luhan.”

“What?” He snapped, looking up.

The taller (Kris, Chanyeol’s mind whispered insistently) wrapped his hand around the back of Luhan’s neck. “Goodbye,” he said, and leaned in to kiss him. It was a desperate sort of kiss, arms holding each other tight like this would be the last time they touch. It probably was the last time they would ever kiss, judging by Kris’ words. When Luhan let out a tiny gasp, Chanyeol finally turned his head away. He had intruded enough.

His foot hit a laundry basket as he was trying to discreetly exit (why the hell was that basket even there?). It clattered loudly, and Chanyeol froze, wincing. Damnit.

The sliding door opened from the room he had been peeking into, and Chanyeol met Kris’ bewildered eyes. His hair was still mussed up from the make out session. Luhan emerged from behind him, face equally confused.

Chanyeol watched with apprehension as Kris' face turned into horrified recognition. "Wait," he said, "You're-"

"Sorry," Chanyeol said. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Then, system still on overdrive, he walked off as fast as he could. He cursed himself for being so needlessly nosy.

"I don't want this," was the first thing Chanyeol said when he saw his parents. Even without context, they both knew what he was referring to; it was all he talked about, after all. Seated at the dinner table, his mom offered him a disappointed face.

"What do you mean? You were the most excited out of all of us about this marriage. Now what happened?" She asked, hand delicately cupped under her chopsticks as she ate a piece of pickled cucumber.

Chanyeol couldn't exactly say I saw my fiancé sucking face with another guy so he kept silent. His father gave him a highly raised eyebrow, which meant that he better talk or his mom will get upset. He sighed.

"I just don't want to marry him," he said, eyes downcast.

"And it was going so well, too," his mom muttered. "Both you and Kris had agreed to honor our families' history, and now you choose now of all times to be bratty."

Was she trying to guilt him in this? Because it was working. "Mommy," he whined. "Why can't we just call it off? Please?"

"What?" She gazed critically at him. "Did my son find someone else to fall in love with?"

"No," he said slowly, and then took a deep breath. "But Kris may have."

"What?" She set down her chopsticks, her gaze sharp. "How would you know that?"

Chanyeol winced. It seemed that he would have to tell everything to her after all.

After he had regaled her with the simplest version of the event he could muster, his mom calmly sipped from her tea cup and set it down. Even as an immigrant to Canada, she was rather particular about her old culture. "Well," she began, "unless Kris also has the same desire to call this whole thing off, I doubt your wish will be granted." His dad nodded along and poured more boiling water into her cup.

Chanyeol nodded and resisted the urge to smile widely. This will be easy.

Little did he know.

On their first official meeting together (in some coffee shop that served terrible coffee but great gelato), Kris held out his hand to shake. "I'm Kris," he said, as if they hadn't already accidentally met during Jongin's birthday party in his extravagant mansion, where Chanyeol had caught him and Luhan re-enacting that scene out of a cheesy romantic movie.

Chanyeol pursed his lips, eyeing the hand before finally shaking it. "Nice to meet you," he said, "Let's call the marriage off."

Kris stared at him with an amused tilt of his thick eyebrows. "Cutting it right to the chase, aren't we? Aren't we supposed to talk about ourselves first?"

"There's nothing you need to know about me since we aren't going to get married," Chanyeol growled.

"I have no intention of calling this off," Kris said, leaning back with his arms folded.

"What?" He squawked, and then lowered his volume when he noticed the other customers look toward them curiously. "Why the fuck wouldn't you?"

"I respect my parents' wishes, unlike someone here."

Chanyeol almost flailed in his utter frustration. He hadn't expected Kris to be so... so infuriating!

"Why did you suddenly change your mind anyway? I heard that you had agreed to this engagement before." Kris inspected the coffee in front of him and took a sip. His face turned into a very interesting grimace and he set it down gingerly. Serves him right, Chanyeol thought vindictively.

"What, did you intentionally brainwash yourself of the memory where I caught you making out with that pretty guy called Luhan?" Chanyeol drawled.

"He's not pretty. He prefers to be called handsome."

"Whatever. The point is." Chanyeol paused. What was the point again? Kris was awfully distracting with his terribly big hands and expressive eyebrows. "The point is, I have no intention of being stuck in a loveless marriage. Especially with someone who obviously still loves someone else." He was stupid for waiting for some denial of the sort to the last statement, but Kris did no such thing.

"It can't be all that bad. I'm sure we could get along." Kris shrugged, mouth set in an obstinate line. "Heck, we could even learn to love each other. Although that seems to be a very distant goal right now, seeing how loud you naturally seem to be."

Chanyeol spluttered, speechless with indignation. What was wrong with his past self, thinking that Kris would be some sort of perfect gentleman?

He silently fumed in his room, flipping through his old comic books with no interest whatsoever. Who did Kris think he was? Chanyeol had kept pressing on his argument but the other did not budge one bit. He doubted they would be able to see each other much; how was he supposed to convince him to see his viewpoint?

“Yeollie?”

Chanyeol’s head snapped up. “Mom, I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t call me that anymore!”

His mom tilted her head, hand on the doorway. “But it’s cute. And you’re my cute son. How could I not?”

He pouted. “What did you come here for anyway?”

“You don’t have any plans this summer, right?”

Chanyeol racked his head. His schedule for the summer was depressingly empty. Having recently graduated from college, he was still looking for a stable job. For now, his part-time job as a teacher assistant left him free for the months of July and August. “Other than hanging out with my friends, I don’t think so.”

“Oh good.” She smiled, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Chanyeol knew immediately that he shouldn’t have answered like that.

“What are you planning now?” He asked warily.

“You’re going on an expense-paid trip to Japan!”

“Oh.” He scrunched his forehead, and then smiled widely. “Woah, that actually sounds awesome.”

He was just about to break out into a happy dance when his mom added cheerfully: “Wait, I’m not done yet, Yeollie!”

“There’s more?”

“You’re going with your fiancé. You’ll be spending a month together. Have fun!” With that, she closed the door, knowing about the incoming tantrum.

Chanyeol sat there, shell-shocked.

“Why does this have to happen to me?” He groaned and smothered his face against his pillow. “Jesus fucking christ, why.”

Then he suddenly sat up. “Wait, this could actually be good for me.” He stroked his invisible beard, and then realized that he probably looked crazy to anyone who cared to spy on him, and stopped.

If he went on this trip with Kris, he would have more time to pester Kris into ending this engagement. As a super extra bonus, he could also finally visit the country that was number one on his travel list. Chanyeol nodded decisively. It was decided then; he would bother Kris so much that he would rather kiss frogs than marry him.

Kiss frogs? Chanyeol must have been watching too many Disney movies again.

As unbelievable as this may sound, their families had an old belief passed down through generations. Apparently, their ancestors had been chummy friends, and went to see a fortune teller one day. That famous fortune teller had told them the exact year that their descendants have to marry each other, and they took it to heart.

Chanyeol laughed when he first heard the story.

He was not laughing about it now. His mom had been amused about this old belief, while his dad... Well, he was quite superstitious. How did two families that were connected by the past move to the same country and still managed to find each other?

It was a mystery. Some may call it fate. Chanyeol called it a very unfortunate coincidence.

“So. Which part of Japan are we going to exactly?” Chanyeol grunted as he pulled his heavy suitcase along.

“You seriously don’t know and you’re just going to hop on that plane?” Kris looked at him disbelievingly. He seemed to be prepared with everything one would need on an airplane. A neck pillow was already snugly around his neck.

“Nope,” Chanyeol said just to irritate Kris further. In truth, he had already researched every single aspect of Kyoto. He saw Kris’ irritated eye twitch and smugly smiled to himself. One step closer to victory. They stopped in front of Gate 34, and Chanyeol puffed one cheek out as he inspected his boarding pass.

“How terrible. I have to sit next to you? Oh, but I call window seat!”

Kris set his luggage down and sat down, his long legs claiming the space in front of him. “It’s an early flight, and I barely slept. Is it possible for you to talk less? Just, like, a little?”

Chanyeol blinked at him, then tapped his finger against his chin. “Let me think,” he said. “Hmm. Nope, sorry dear.” He sneered while pronouncing the last word before settling down on the chair across from Kris. The blonde didn’t respond; he rested his head back on the chair, closing his eyes. Seemed like he found out how to effectively deal with Chanyeol: ignore him. Chanyeol shrugged. He had more opportunities to annoy Kris in the future. He was tired himself anyway. Before he knew it, his eyes were drifting close as well.

“Last boarding call for the flight to Kyoto. Last boarding call.”

Chanyeol awoke with a yelp. “Kris! Fuck. Wake up!”

Kris blinked blearily at him. “What?”

“We are going to miss our flight!” A bunch of incomprehensible noises burst forth from his mouth and Kris put his hand over his mouth to stop the stream of gibberish. He wrinkled his nose when his hand met with a still-open mouth.

“Ugh.” Kris wiped his hand on Chanyeol’s shirt, while picking up his bag with his other hand. “This is not a good start for this trip.”

Chanyeol stared at him, mouth waiting to catch unsuspecting flies. “You...! You just wiped your dirty hand on my sweater. My favorite sweater!”

Kris actually had the audacity to snicker. “It’s your saliva.”

A sound akin to a cross between a whale noise and an offended cat screech came out of Chanyeol as he struggled to catch up with Kris. Apparently Kris also had the ability to irritate him back. They were one of the last to board, even though they were one of the first to arrive at the gate.

“This is really nice,” Chanyeol breathed out when they finally arrived at the rented house they were to live in. It was made out of entirely wood, with a delicate design that he knew was sturdy enough to stand frequent earthquakes.

For the first time, he saw Kris smile. “Yeah, it is.”

However, as soon as they had set their stuff down, they were already arguing over who would sleep in what room.

“I saw it first!” Chanyeol said, and to prove his point, he sat down and rolled around on the queen-sized bed.

“I already put my stuff in here, though.”

“I’ll help you move it out!” He got up, brushing past Kris. “Where’s the other bedroom?”

“On the other end of the hallway.” Kris followed him. “That room has a leaky pipe, I think. The floorboard is in pretty bad shape in the corner.”

He stuck his head into the room, smaller than the one before, to confirm what Kris was saying. “Oh well. You’re just going to have to deal with it.” Chanyeol smiled brightly, glad he wasn’t stuck with this room.

“Nuh-uh. Rock, paper and scissors for the first room.”

“No.” Chanyeol folded his arms. What if he lost? Kris raised challenging eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he was a coward.

Damnit. “Okay, fine.”

They both stared at the end result. “Aha!” Chanyeol crowed. “I won in the end after all. This is destiny. Fate. That room and I were meant to be together.”

Kris just rubbed his hand over his face. “Okay, okay. I admit defeat. You promised to help me move my bags.”

“Can we eat first? I’m hungry.”

“...Me, too. I saw a restaurant near here when we were walking over.”

They were outside of the tempura restaurant, looking at the pictures on the menu, when Chanyeol raised up a very good point. “Um. Do you know Japanese?”

“I took it for two years in high school.”

“Oh my god, we’re doomed.”

“What? Don’t tell me, you don’t know it at all.”

Chanyeol squirmed. “The little I do know is from watching anime and reading manga.”

Kris gaped at him. “We are doomed. I don’t even know if I can even remember what I learned. That was years ago! I thought, by the way you kept chattering about always wanting to go to Japan, that you’d make an effort to learn this language.”

Chanyeol sheepishly grinned. He dug into his carry-on bag. “I think I have a tourist guide for us with some useful Japanese phrases to point at.”

Kris took it from him and inspected it. “I don’t know. It looks pretty useless.”

“What? But it has, like, cool discounts for some tourist spots.” Chanyeol sidled up next to him and squinted at the handbook. “Like... Ueno Zoological Gardens. Yay, I love animals. Wait. This is a Tokyo Tourism Guide. Why did Mom hand this to me?”

“Aren’t we making a trip to Tokyo two weeks later to stay for three days?” Kris idly flipped through the little book.

“Oh, we are?”

Kris shook his head. “Clueless.”

Chanyeol tugged at the bottom of Kris’ shirt. “Why aren’t we going in yet? The food here looks so good, I might drool on you before we go in.”

“Let’s go,” Kris quickly said, obviously not liking the thought of Chanyeol’s drool on him. Chanyeol huffed a little in laughter behind his hand before following him.

They both stared in wide-eyed wonder when their food was set down in front of them. Each piece was arranged with such detail and artistic taste that it seemed like a shame to eat it.

Chanyeol couldn’t stand his growling stomach and took a bite. “Oh my god. Kris, you have to try this. This is like food heaven or something.”

He split the chopsticks and picked up the shrimp tempura and dipped it into the sauce. It was light and full of flavor at the same time. “Wow.”

“Told you so.” They didn’t talk for the rest of the meal, concentrating on wolfing down the food.

They went sightseeing, of course. It was actually really tiring, and they always arrived home sweaty, fighting over who got the shower first. They argued and bickered about the smallest things. At first, Chanyeol had started these arguments purposely for the sake of his goal, but then it became natural to start bantering about whether or not they should buy this expensive music box or which place to see next.

Sometimes they argued for each other’s well-being.

Five days of traipsing around Kyoto (to Rokuon-ji and tons of other temples), Chanyeol had to take a day of rest. He was hogging the toilet the moment they got home yesterday.

“Something in the food was bad. I don’t know what,” Chanyeol said after his fourth trip to the bathroom.

“Or maybe your stomach is just weak. I ate the same thing as you,” Kris said, but his face was lined with slight concern.

“This sucks.”

Kris gave him a comforting pat on the back. “I’ll bring food back.”

“You better! Or I’m eating you.”

“What is this?” Chanyeol stared at the little bag on the table that Kris plopped down in front of him. “This doesn’t look like food. Where is the food you promised? Kris, you can’t let me die here from starvation.”

Kris breathed out through his nose. Chanyeol recognized it as one of his many symptoms of frustration. “Relax. The food’s right here.” He held up a white plastic bag in his hand.

“What’s this, then?” Chanyeol held the bag up and raised it as if he could see its inner contents through the lamplight.

“Open it.”

He raised his eyebrows at the little keychain he fished out. It was a stitched-up pink bunny hanging from the chain, with a tiny bell on its neck.

“I was just browsing through the shops and saw it. I thought you might like it.” Kris took out the bento boxes from the plastic bag.

“It’s ugly,” Chanyeol said flatly.

“Wow,” Kris snorted. “If you don’t like it, I’ll just give it to my mom.”

Chanyeol clutched the bunny tightly in his palms. “What? No! It’s mine.”

“If you so insist.”

“Really though, out of all the cute things in Japan, you choose this.” Tsking, Chanyeol shook his head. “You really have no taste.”

“Any more insults and I won’t feed you.”

“Heartless man!”

Chanyeol sat down on his bed, cradling the bunny keychain in his hand. It hung from his finger and fit perfectly in his palms.

“Hi, little bunny,” Chanyeol whispered. “Sorry if I insulted you before. I hope you don’t take it too seriously.”

He brushed his thumb over its stitched face. Kris gave this to him. He might have thought of him when he saw this bunny. Something impossibly warm filled Chanyeol’s chest, filling it to the brim. He held the little bunny close to him, a bittersweet smile spreading across his face.

See, Chanyeol had originally wanted this marriage. He wanted it so bad he could feel it aching in the pores of his bones. He had always been a sucker for happy endings, for fairytales where dreams came true.

He had a little picture of Kris that he would keep under his pillow (he was pathetic, he knew). Maybe, he thought, just maybe, Kris would be his prince charming. Maybe they could make each other happy.

He had to come back to reality. (His daydreams will never come true and he should accept it now before it hurt more later on).

After Chanyeol’s stomach had stopped rebelling against him, he made a phone call.

“It’s my old high school friend,” Chanyeol explained. “He has a job here and his Japanese is really good. We were exchanging emails and he told me that today was his day off. He’s going to be our personal tour guide. Isn’t that awesome?”

“You have friends?” Kris flashed his teeth to show that he was teasing before dumping all their clothes into the washing machine. In response, Chanyeol stuck out his tongue at him.

Somehow Kris’ mood seemed to be stormy this afternoon. When Chanyeol chided him for forgetting to turn the air conditioner off when they got home, he snapped back that Chanyeol should have remembered it himself. It made Chanyeol pause a few seconds because Kris had never been so quick to argue back before.

“But this is the second time you forgot to turn it off. I even reminded you when we left this morning,” Chanyeol said, closing all the windows. What a waste of electricity. He hoped the bill wouldn’t be that high.

Kris didn’t respond. His shoulders were taut as he opened up the refrigerator. He stuck his head out from the fridge. “No beer? Did you drink them all?”

Chanyeol propped his hands on his waist. “I’m not the one who drinks them. If anything, you’re the one who practically inhales a can in one go.”

Kris slammed the fridge door shut with an audible bang. “Fuck.”

“What’s got you all worked up today?” And Chanyeol had been in such a good mood before from finally seeing Kyungsoo after all these years, too. Now Kris’ moodiness was ruining everything.

“What do you think? Living with someone as annoying as you doesn’t exactly fill my heart with sunshine and rainbows.”

That hurt. It really did, but Chanyeol did his best not to let the stinging show.

“Oh?” He scowled. “Then why the hell are you so bent on enduring your whole life with me anyway?”

“I don’t know why, either.”

They were both standing, faces tense from all the sudden animosity in the atmosphere.

“Then call off the fucking engagement already! We’ll all be happier that way.” Chanyeol had reflexively went back to his old line of argument.

“Fine.” Kris’ eyes flashed with steel. “Maybe I will, then.”

Chanyeol couldn’t help his recoil of shock. Kris had always stubbornly insisted on following his parent’s wishes. To defy that now... He must really despised him, didn’t he? He sucked in a breath, trying to hide the fact that he was being ripped up into tiny pieces on the inside.

“Don’t go back on your word, then.” He clenched his fists, because his hands were starting to shake really badly.

“I won’t. The moment we go back home, I’ll call it off.” God, Kris’ eyes were so cold. He turned and walked into the hallway leading to his room, shutting off the kitchen’s light with a brush of his hand as he went.

Chanyeol was left to collapse bonelessly in the chair and to stare at the wall opposite to him blankly.

Kris let out a tiny frustrated growl as he turned on the shower. His mind replayed Chanyeol’s question of why he had been pissed off this whole day. It was still sinking in that, in the midst of his childish rage, he had just ended their engagement that he had fought so hard to keep. Even though Chanyeol acted like a pesky ass half the time.

Damn it. He really thought they could have worked out together.

Kris closed his eyes, resting his forehead on the cool linoleum of the bathroom walls as hot water rushed down his back. The reason that Kris had finally given into Chanyeol’s demands wasn’t because he couldn’t stand living with him.

He let out another growl, resisting the urge to slam his fist against the wall like people did in dramas. He couldn’t help but to remember how Chanyeol warmly smiled at Kyungsoo, how they playfully touched each other. Their friendly flirting was what made the anger bubble up in his chest today. Chanyeol had never smiled at him like that.

If marrying him was such a detestable idea to Chanyeol, then why should he argue otherwise?

They were awkward the next few days after that. Not speaking during breakfast at first, they opted to go out separately for the first time. Being apart seemed to be the best option right now.

However, Chanyeol had almost gotten lost and he didn’t like the feeling of being in a country where he didn’t understand anything that anyone was saying. He stayed at home the next day, and the day after that, Kris headed out only to find that there was someone closely shadowing him.

“If you’re trying to stalk me,” Kris said slowly, “you should at least be more inconspicuous than that.”

Chanyeol squeaked from the tree he had been hiding behind. “How did you know I was here?”

“You don’t walk. You practically trample and stomp. How can I not hear you?”

“Well.” Chanyeol’s upset face was somehow really cute. “Pretend you didn’t see me, then.”

“What?” Kris’ mouth quirked up. He had almost missed the bantering and endlessly teasing Chanyeol. “Were you afraid you’d get lost, so you followed me?”

Kris was rewarded with a flush creeping up Chanyeol’s face and his ears. “N-no. Of course not.”

“You’re a really bad liar.”

Chanyeol disagreed with that statement. He was good at lying, but only about his feelings. He was especially gifted and talented at lying to himself about them.

“At least walk beside me so you don’t look like such a creeper.” Kris extended his large hand, beckoning him forward. Wordlessly, he followed and caught up to his steps.

Chanyeol had achieved his original goal. There was no point in purposefully annoying Kris now, even they still fell back into the easy pattern of bickering.

Before, he didn’t want to be stuck in a loveless marriage. Now? Now, he just wanted Kris to have his happy ending even if it meant that he wouldn’t get his.

The streets they were walking on that night suddenly looked unfamiliar, even though Chanyeol knew they were the same streets they usually traversed to get to the train station. He gazed around him in childlike wonder, taking in the colorful yukatas the women were dressed in and the open-air markets set up in the street. The lanterns added to the gorgeousness of the scene.

“It’s a street fair for the fireworks festival,” Kris said, pointing out the obvious. Chanyeol snorted, and then pulled at his arm.

“There’s a game to see who can catch the most goldfish. I wanna play.”

“Are you still a child or something?” Kris shook his head. He still let Chanyeol drag him, though.

“Kirei,” Chanyeol whispered, using the Japanese phrase for ‘pretty’, as he watched the red fish dart around in the water.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to raise them,” Kris said, looking at them dubiously.

“What’s so hard about raising fish?”

“You’re going to regret saying that sometime in the near future.” He checked his watch. “We can come back to the fish later. The fireworks are starting soon.”

“Okay.” Chanyeol moved to follow along, and then winced when he got jostled in the shoulder by a passerby. The stranger quickly apologized and Chanyeol bowed his head a little in response. Japanese people were so polite. It pressured him to be polite in return. He widened his eyes when a warm hand enveloped his.

“Wha-?” He looked up to see Kris tugging him through the crowd.

Kris raised his eyebrow at him. “There’s too many people here. I don’t want to lose you.”

Chanyeol felt a lump reside in his throat at his words. I don’t want to lose you. Taken out of context, he could pretend he meant something else entirely. He looked down at their hands clasped together, fingers rested next to each other like they belonged there. Like they could belong there in the years to come.

Chanyeol caught his reflection in the window of the store they passed by. He nearly stopped at the hint of heartbreak lingering on the corners of his mouth.

The fireworks were spectacular to watch, and each resounding boom as they sparkled in the sky left a ringing in his ears. They had found a pretty sweet spot to watch the fireworks, thanks to them arriving early to claim it.

“Why are you so quiet today?” Kris asked when the show was coming to an end. “You would be usually talking my ears off by now.”

Chanyeol blinked and turned to see Kris’ profile lit up by each flash of the fireworks. Why are you still holding my hand? He wanted to ask, but he swallowed the question. Kris rested their joined hands on their picnic blanket as if he had forgotten to let go. Occasionally, his thumb would brush over Chanyeol’s knuckles in an absent-minded way that made him shiver.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, looking back at the dazzling night sky.

As the fireworks wound down, he stood up, dragging Kris up in the process.

“Let’s get something to eat. All the stands here smell so good,” Chanyeol said, brushing his butt off with his free hand even though he had been sitting on a perfectly clean blanket before.

“Sometimes I really think that your stomach is a bottomless black hole. All you think about is food.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that all the food in Japan taste and look so good. Except for the raw eggs.” Chanyeol wrinkled his nose at the traumatizing memory of finding a raw egg on top of his caesar salad, eliciting laughter from Kris. Oh finally, he could talk normally again. Once he got used to this hand-holding business (Remember. This didn’t mean anything. To Kris, at least), it was fine.

He wondered if they looked like a couple to other people.

Kris ordered some yakitori (chicken and other stuff on a stick, basically), and thanked the man in the stand before taking them. Chanyeol took one from him, and was about to take a huge bite from it when he got stopped.

“Wait,” Kris said, and then proceeded to blow on it, like he genuinely cared if Chanyeol burned his tongue. Like they were on a freaking date. The hand-holding really wasn’t helping, either.

Chanyeol cautiously chewed on the meat, its tangy and sweet flavor sticking to the insides of his mouth.

There must have been something pained in his expression because Kris noticed it. “What? Does it not taste good or something? Undercooked meat?”

Chanyeol shook his head, taking another bite to prevent himself from talking. He looked down at Kris’ hand gently holding his own and then looked away.

It hurt, knowing that this wouldn’t last. That Kris probably would have preferred holding Luhan’s hand instead.

“I won.” The sunlight made his hair blaze brighter than his smile. “That means you have to do whatever I want.”

“Why did we make this the prize again? And all for betting whether or not the penguin in the aquarium would push the other off the ice or not.” Kris sighed heavily, taking the water bottle from Chanyeol and drank from it. “Penguins usually don’t just trip and headbutt the other into the water like that. It’s not normal. God, I was so sure I would win this.”

“You were the one who suggested this bet!” Chanyeol accepted the water bottle and thirstily drank from it as well.

“Just to laugh at you when you lose.”

“Hey!”

Kris grinned. He prodded the other to stand up. “Come on, we’ve got to catch that bus to go home.”

“But what do I make you do?” Chanyeol unconsciously started chewing his fingernail and Kris lightly slapped that hand. He sent Kris a huffy look before continuing. “Something potentially embarrassing. Utterly humiliating. Yes, yes. But what?”

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

They both filed behind the line and got into the bus. The seats were all filled so they held onto the convenient handrails.

“Of course I’m not going to make this easy for you. This is the best opportunity of my lifetime. I just have to figure out what to do with it.” The way he was deliberating, it was like he was asking for Kris to come up with ideas for him. He was all too happy to provide suggestions.

“Are you going to make me run outside naked? Or maybe I have to cook. Urgh, cooking.”

“What. No! I think you would get arrested for that.” Their bodies had a natural tendency to lean closer while they talked.

“For which one?”

“Both.”

“My cooking isn’t that bad. I think. Okay, nevermind then. I can perform girl group dances.”

Chanyeol almost fell over from that imagery, too horrified to laugh.

“Apparently not. I could pretend to be your boyfriend for a day.”

Chanyeol’s brain caught that suggestion and refused to let it go. “No, you wouldn’t be able to.” He sent him a disbelieving look.

“You dare to accuse me of the possibility of failing?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Psh. It’d be a piece of cake. A piece of soft cheesecake,” Kris added after a moment of deliberation.

“Are you trying to make me hungry?”

“Is it working?”

“Damn you, yes. As for the boyfriend thing, I dare you. I doubt you can do it. I’ll be watching carefully to see if you fail or not. Oh, but no kissing!” Chanyeol wasn’t really thinking when he said this, goaded by Kris’ challenging stare.

“I’ll be so good, you’ll be dazzled. Like that Edward guy from those vampire movies dazzled.”

Chanyeol shoved Kris’ shoulder. “Did you have to mention him? That was such a lame line.” But he involuntarily smiled anyway.

Chanyeol didn’t know what he was expecting, but this was surprisingly easy to get used to. He played along, cooing even more cringeworthy pet names if Kris ever dared to use any. It was thrilling and foreign to be treated like this, and yet at the same time, little seemed to change between the way they interacted. They had decided to go to the Kyoto Tower today, and then walk around the area in the late afternoon.

Chanyeol didn’t know that Kris really wanted this. To be able to hold Chanyeol’s hip at random intervals, to nuzzle his head affectionately whenever he wanted, to act possessive if other people came too close. Kris was discreet with his touches, because he usually wasn’t the kind to be obvious about his relationships anyway.

The sun had set, and they were wandering around the buildings surrounding Kyoto Station. Their pinkies were tangled together because their hands got too sweaty if they held hands for a long amount of time.

“Skyway,” Chanyeol read aloud from the sign, and peered into the tunnel that was suspended at least 100 feet above Kyoto Station. “Oh, so this is how you get to the bridge that we saw from before.”

“Mhm.” Kris smiled, tightening his pinky around Chanyeol’s. His eyes tended to crinkle a little whenever he smiled. Strange how Chanyeol noticed the littlest things at the randomest times.

They walked in, arms swaying between their bodies. The tunnel itself was mostly dark. The only lights came from outside. There was no need to rush with sucha beautiful scene before them. Kyoto Tower was alight in all her glory, looking over an ancient city surrounded on three sides by mountains.

As they strolled along, Chanyeol couldn’t help but to notice couples in the corners, sharing quiet intimate moments underneath the cover of the darkness. It was understandable. This place had a romantic overtone to it, especially with the way it felt like no one was watching if you decided to lean in and kiss your other half. They came to a stop along one of the Skyway’s wide windows, taking in the sights from above.

“If...” Chanyeol placed his hand on the window. “If we weren’t just pretending to be a couple and this was real, what would you do now?”

As soon as the question flew from his mouth, he regretted it. He didn’t want to know the answer, because knowing would make it hurt more, because this would never actually happen to him.

But Kris was already looking at Chanyeol’s face, his expression unreadable. “Do you really want to know?”

Before he could reply with a ‘no’, Kris had already trapped Chanyeol between his arms. His hands encircled around the railing, Kris leaned in until there was a mere inch between their lips. His eyes were incredibly dark. Chanyeol tensed, his back against the window. The railing hurt his butt.

Then, Kris turned his head and placed his mouth right next to Chanyeol’s ear.

“If you were mine,” Kris breathed, “I would hold you close like this.”

Chanyeol shut his eyes, his senses overwhelmed even though they weren’t touching at all. Their chests were just a few fingertips’ away from each other.

“Then I would kiss you,” Kris continued, his voice getting lower. “I would first do it slowly, so softly that you wouldn’t be able to feel it at first. And then,” he tilted his head so that they were even closer, “more intensely until you were flushed and panting before me. All mine for the taking.”

Chanyeol’s hands were clenched around the bars, his whole body trembling. He needed to take in desperate gulps of oxygen because his chest was throbbing painfully.

They stood there like that for who knew how long. Kris rested his head on Chanyeol’s collar bone, breaking the moment. Chanyeol’s hands slowly found purchase on his back, and he let out a sigh, his whole world enveloped with Kris’ scent.

He felt secure and special in those arms. His mind told him to let go but his traitorous body made his hands tighten a little more, wrinkling the back of Kris’ t-shirt.

Luhan was so lucky. Chanyeol’s mouth tightened, and he forced himself to loosen his hands.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, his heart raw and terribly vulnerable. Just a little more prodding and it would probably crack and shatter into a billion pieces. There was no way he could prepare for it, either.

Who do you want to spend the rest of your life with?

Kris ended the Skype call, gripping the back of the chair as he got up. Chanyeol’s parents, after talking with their son, had insisted on talking to Kris as well.

“Chanyeol,” Kris said as the other walked from the end of the hallway.

“Hm? They didn’t bother you too much, did they? We only have a week before leaving. I don’t know why they were talking to you for so long.” He held his clean clothes in one hand and a towel in another, obviously heading for a shower.

“Chanyeol. You wanted to marry me in the beginning?” His face was blank with shock, coupled with the look of someone who just had the ground taken out from under his feet.

Chanyeol didn’t say anything. He didn’t say that he still did (even more desperately so), but he suddenly couldn’t hide his emoutions anymore. It was like those simple words ripped the carefully cultivated mask right off his face. His eyes were scared and just a little bit sad.

“Then why are you so against it now?” He walked forward, stopping until they were face to face. Chanyeol’s head was averted, trying to hide the obvious emotions swimming in his eyes.

“You have Luhan to go back to,” Chanyeol whispered, finally voicing out the thoughts that he was unable to before.

Kris exhaled. So that was why. He hadn’t expected that answer. Did that mean that Chanyeol would have been willing to be with him if not for that scene that he had witnessed? He took a chance, cupping Chanyeol’s face with his hand.

“But you misunderstood,” he said tenderly. “When I was saying goodbye to him, I meant it.”

“But...” Chanyeol’s lips were down turned as he unconsciously leaned into the touch. “You could still be with him.”

“Did you not process anything I just said?” He sighed exasperatedly, and then pulled Chanyeol in, slanting his head to touch their lips together. Chanyeol froze before hesitantly responding back. The little gasps that he let out seemed to urge Kris on. He blinked when they pulled apart.

“What just happened?” He asked dazedly.

Kris grinned. He brushed his nose against Chanyeol’s affectionately. “It means that I will be going back on my word after all. With a proper proposal in the future. Expect it.”

Chanyeol slowly flushed and hid it by putting his head against the other’s chest. He was still trying to process everything right now. The happiness will catch up later.

Why was it that all married couples called each other dumb at least once every two days? Chanyeol was pondering this as he washed the dishes.

“Are you done with eating the food yet?” He narrowed his eyes at his husband, who was going through his dinner so slowly a rhinoceros might have finished its meal by now. Not that Chanyeol knew how rhinoceroses ate.

“Almost done,” Kris’ voice came out muffled through his mouthful of rice. Chanyeol wrinkled his nose.

“Swallow, and then talk.”

“Yes, dear.” He sent him a wry look, before resuming to eat.

Chanyeol smiled with amusement before setting down the gloves and turning off the water. He settled down next to Kris (his lover, his best friend, and husband all wrapped up into one package) with a groan. “My back hurts.”

Kris massaged him with one hand as he still ate with his chopsticks in the other hand. “Your boss assigning you too much paperwork again?”

“Yes. Remind me, why did I get a real job again?”

“Money.”

“Oh, yeah. That thing.” Chanyeol sighed as Kris’ large hand did its magic. “That feels great.”

Technically, he still counted them as newlyweds. Although he probably shouldn’t because a year had already passed. Whatever. Chanyeol moved to got up when Kris finished eating, but he was pushed down.

“Rest. I’ll do the rest of the vacuuming and stuff today, even though it’s not my turn.”

Chanyeol gratefully smiled. “Thanks.”

“I expect a reward later.” Kris leered.

“Okay.” Chanyeol assumed a thinking position. “I’ll reward you... With a peck on the cheek later. Is that good?” He beamed up at Kris. He loved teasing him like this. He huffed with laughter when he got a glare in return. “Just kidding.”

He sighed and inclined his neck up, stretching his back muscles. As tired as he was, he was also stupidly content with the way his life was.

Tasting Colors

flameflowerful — Sat, 15 Jun 2013 06:24:28 GMT

Title: Tasting Colors
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sekai, side!Sudo
Author's Note: Fill for this prompt from exopromptmeme. I was trying to get back to writing, and needed some inspiration. And somehow this sentence triggered something in me. Thank you to the OP.
Summary: In a world where people see in black and white, Sehun dreams in colors.

Sometimes, Sehun dreams. He dreams of swirls of colors, of flashes of dark creamy skin like milk chocolate. Of a long forgotten smile tinged with shyness before it fades away with the other images. He has reached out to them before, tried to grasp each color in his hands, but they all run through the spaces of his fingers like sand.

When he wakes up, it is with a bittersweet hollowness in his chest as he struggles to catch his breath. He doesn’t even have a name to associate with this person he’s dreaming of; all he knows that all of these dreams revolve around one person only, and that he needs to find that person.

“Reincarnation,” Junmyeon says. He looks amused, mouth curling almost into a sneer. If it had been anyone else but Sehun (he is Junmyeon’s precious little dongsaeng after all), he would’ve laughed in their face already, “is an antiquated concept that is full of bullshit.”

Sehun slouches a little, fingers tapping mindlessly at his bottled 100% purified mineral water. He would be lying if he said that he had not expected that same exact response from his hyung.

Kyungsoo lays a calming hand on Junmyeon’s inner elbow to stop him from launching into an intense speech about how logic and science is the way to go. “Anything is possible,” he says, “Sehun-ah, if you think you are dreaming about a past life, you could be right.”

Junmyeon still looks highly skeptical.

Do Kyungsoo’s family owns a store of old books (real books. The rare kinds with paper that crumbles underneath your fingertips) full of myths and stories that toe the fine line between fiction and reality. To this day, Sehun still has not figured out why Kyungsoo and Junmyeon are together when their beliefs are on the opposite sides of the spectrum.

Sehun nods a little dejectedly at Kyungsoo’s answer, tangling his fingers into the artificial grass that they’re sitting on. Grass is supposed to be green, he knows from textbooks, but he doesn’t even know what green looks like. All he sees is the shadows that each strand cast on the other, varying in their gradient of shades. Noticing things like this always make his insides throb for his colored dreams again.

He doesn’t tell anyone, not even Kyungsoo and Junmyeon, about how his dreams are filled with colors because they would look at him with envy and disbelief. Humans are never born with the pigments in their eyes to see colors anymore. There have been many scientific studies on how this exactly happened, some pointing out the increased levels of this chemical that might’ve caused the inactivation of this gene, while others call it natural selection - nature telling us that the practicality for seeing colors is no longer needed.

Still. Sehun glares at the black and white and in-between greys of the grass in between his fingers. Still. He hates waking up in the morning knowing that something is empty within him but not knowing why.

He is on a school trip, lagging behind the group, when there is a burst of bright color on the edges of his vision. He stops walking. Huh. How did he not realize that this is a dream? Only in his dreams does he see colors, except this time it feels like he can practically taste this particular color, one that lingers in the back of his tongue like the sharp tangy flavor of a tangerine. Someone bumps into his shoulder, and he winces because he’s surprised to actually feel pain. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that this is reality after all, and he finally moves. He power-walks (no running in a museum exhibit! The high-tech cameras are watching your every move) to the direction of where the warm color is coming from.

A kind of painful anticipation is crawling into his chest and he hears husky laughter (creating yet another one of these color bursts) before he actually sees him. Just another ordinary boy with his group of friends from a different school’s field trip. Someone he would’ve passed by on the streets without a second glance except there is something suffocatingly familiar about the flash of his teeth when he smiles and the timbre of his voice.

The boy endearingly covers his mouth when he is laughing and he twitches as if he feels a pair of eyes watching him intently. Sehun shivers when their eyes meet, and there’s recognition in the other’s eyes that proves to Sehun that he’s right. He’s found (wow, how cheesy does this sound?) the person of his dreams.

The familiar stranger elbows his way from his friends’ circle, and they send him a curious look before conversing amongst themselves again. Sehun feels his palms clamming up when each step brings them closer.

“Hi, I’m Jongin,” the boy says, and this time, Sehun sees the world in a flickers of this color that reminds him of the deep bottoms of an ocean. He tries not to blink because seeing colors in the real world brings the slight onslaught of tears to the corners of his eyes. It’s more gorgeous than anything his dreams have suggested to him before.

Sehun swallows, and says, “Hello. My name’s Oh Sehun.”

Jongin blinks in apparent surprise, and then laughs breathily. “Wow,” he says, “that was. Wow.”

“You see the colors, too?” Sehun blurts it out without thinking. Oh shit, hopefully Jongin doesn’t think he’s insane for suggesting that he could see in colors. Thankfully, he receives an eye-smile.

“Yeah. They’re beautiful.”

It only takes a few weeks for them to be attached at the hip. It only takes a few more months for Sehun to become so accustomed to his world of twining colors that he panics when Jongin’s family is going away for vacation.

“What are you doing?” Jongin has stepped into his room, only to be greeted by a blanket-covered lump on his bed.

Sehun responds by burrowing his head further into the pillow. “If I don’t leave, you don’t have to go away tomorrow.” He has his childish moments at the strangest times.

Jongin pulls at his blanket with limited success, because Sehun has gripped it even tighter. “You’ve become spoiled by me, haven’t you?”

The taller responds with an immature kick before curling back into a ball.

“Sehun-ah.” Jongin is patting where he thinks Sehun’s head is. “I’ll be back before you know it. I don’t like spending time away from you either.”

Finally, Sehun’s head pokes out from his cocoon so that only his narrowed eyes appear. “Who said I like to spend time with you?”

Jongin only grins evilly, and takes that moment where the other’s guard is let down to tackle him. “Gotcha!” He wrestles the blanket away from him, and somehow it becomes a wrestling match before Sehun plays a dirty card and bites his bicep before pinning him down.

“Foul play,” Jongin grumbles in the face of the smugness rolling off his Sehun. For some reason, his mind has started to work against him and tacks on a possessive his everytime he thinks of the other boy. He grows quiet when he notices that Sehun’s shoulders have become tense and his eyes have taken on a subtle smoulder that skitters invisible fingers down Jongin’s spine.

Sehun hesitates, but Jongin urges him forward by hooking his hands around his neck. He has never found someone other than Sehun who can pull the corners of his heart the same way he pulls on his lips insistently. Jongin has lost count of the amount of times that they have tangled their limbs together (naturally, so naturally) like this but it feels exhilarating each time. He can taste the colors on Sehun’s tongue, can feel each shade’s texture by running his fingers through the other’s coarse hair.

They pull away inevitably and Sehun clamps his arms around Jongin and snuggles closer because he is a clingy bastard like that and Jongin does not mind at all. One would’ve thought that their dreams would’ve stopped now that they’ve met each other, but they haven’t. Sehun is glad because they would be the only way to help him get through the upcoming week without Jongin temporarily.

5 Drabbles & Ficlets

flameflowerful — Mon, 13 May 2013 03:20:18 GMT

Author Note: A series of mostly Krisyeol drabbles/ficlets, like the title said, with maybe some Suchen here or there ;3 Finally got around to posting this on LJ. Each one is a different AU. Some are short, some are strangely kind of long.

Made For Each Other: fantasy adventure!au Yifan was not planning on having Chanyeol latch onto him like a puppy with a new toy in the middle of his travels.

What Yifan was looking for was not something tangible, not something that could be held, caressed. Knowledge, he supposed, was not exactly what people would expect him to scour the whole world for. He was looking for a particular type of knowledge. He simply tried to discover lost antique legends, ones that had been gathering dust in the space of its words.

What he did not plan on happening was having someone tag along with him. All he knew was that one day he was walking through foreign, bustling streets alone, and the next, a bouncy Park Chanyeol was right beside him. Their meeting went along something the line of this:

Yifan (squinting against the glare of the five suns; this city was the closest to them) stared at the tall – child? His face was certainly youthful – in front of him.

A slow, infectious smile spreading over Chanyeol’s face, one eye closed and not even looking perturbed that he had spilled lychee juice all over this aloof stranger. “Let me pay for your dinner as an apology. What’s your name?”

And sometimes, Yifan regretted actually letting his real name slip out of his mouth because a second later, Chanyeol was gushing about how much he always wanted to meet the elusive Wu Yifan who was on a quest of finding all the lost legends when no one else succeeded before.

When Chanyeol latched onto him and enthusiastically yelped about all the fun they’ll have together because he’s going with Yifan on this adventure too, Yifan gave him his signature scowl. “What about your life?”

“I tried to live normally.” Chanyeol gave a carefree shrug with a bright smile. “And failed.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I know.”

Seeing Chanyeol’s absolute refusal to back down, Yifan gave him a lingering stare and said, “Fine.” Chanyeol was just going to be begging to go back to his home city after experiencing the tedium, the skin-crawling danger, the soul-dragging process of recovering just one lost literature anyway.

“Is it true that you can call on dragons?” Chanyeol was giving him the awed eye-twitch later that night, in the broken down motel with the fungi crawling over the walls, glowing in the dark. He didn’t seem to mind the poverty. Almost seemed used to it, actually.

Yifan turned his head to look at the bed opposite his and gave it his best glare. Amber once claimed that he could burn stuff with it and that should’ve been his power instead. He was on the verge of dreamland before Chanyeol’s timbre broke the silence.

“Yes.” He turned towards the wall, closing his eyes.

Clearly Chanyeol was incapable of processing social cues, because he continued talking. About anything and everything, really. The neon-green snails that he saw some people eating yesterday, and he wondered which region they were from – maybe the valley with two moons shining over it? Then he started rambling about his family, who was scattered all across the land and something about his parents who had given him free reign the moment he turned 16 and Yifan was weirdly enraptured but he couldn’t help his heavy eyelids from shutting. Chanyeol’s voice soothed him to sleep, and it would continue to do so for many years to come.

The annoying thing (out of all the annoying things that he would list about Chanyeol, and the list was long) was that Chanyeol got distracted. Very easily. They would walk through a merchant market place, and Chanyeol would slip away, attracted to a shiny bauble floating in the air. The first time, Yifan had almost panicked (for some unknown reason), because how hard was it to lose someone that was almost his height? Chanyeol always came to him, tugging his hand and chirping about whatever new, shiny thing he had seen, and could they buy it please pretty please?

“Dinner,” Yifan reminded, eyes narrowed, because both of them were lacking in rens and they had to take part-time jobs occasionally before moving onto the next destination.

A pretty pout from Chanyeol didn’t even deter him.

Still, as they were walking away from yet another town, Yifan sneakily snuck a paper package into Chanyeol’s pack. As they were settling down to munch on dry provisions, Chanyeol had taken it out with a surprised tilt of his eyebrows and carefully unwrapped it. It was a glittering little jewel with beads wound across it, and Chanyeol gave Yifan his own special trembling smile that spoke of glistening glass reflecting the rainbow hues of water drops.

“It’s a protection charm,” Yifan said.

“But our money,” Chanyeol said, fingertips ghosting across the jewel as he wrapped the beads around his wrist.

“I found it a long time ago. In one of the ice caves. Just happened to carry it around with me.” He turned away, not sure if his heated face was because of the suns or his heart pitter-pattering.

He was actually surprised that Chanyeol was still by his side – even though it had been one whole month and their living conditions had been mostly on the spectrum side of miserable squalidness. He was glad. The prospect of traveling by himself without a ball of sunshine matching each step of his gave him a punching, sinking feeling in his gut. It sounded… Lonely.

“That.” Chanyeol pointed one day as they trekked across a dune hill. The sky was purple since all of the suns except one had set. “That kind of pink-purple. It’s my favorite color.”

Yifan felt his mouth twitch up as Chanyeol stopped and panted after they reached the top of the hill. “It’s my favorite, too.”

Chanyeol stood up, caught up to him, and reached out to tangle their hands and fingers together. Yifan’s stomach jolted up and down like iridescent jelly even though the contact was so utterly casual. As easy as breathing.

“We have the same favorite colors,” Chanyeol said, eyes shining and tips of his hair light brown from overexposure to the suns. “We are MFEO.”

Yifan was trying to snap out of the daze he was in from gazing at the strands of hair falling in front Chanyeol’s heart-breakingly gorgeous eyes. “What?”

“MFEO.” A squeeze of their hands. “Made For Each Other.”

And it shouldn’t be this hard to breathe but it was. He didn’t say anything because what was there to say? He just kept walking, hands clasped with the man who might’ve stolen his heart the first time he saw his smile.

Chanyeol cheered and sat in front of the little hut once they reached it. It had been hidden by layers of foliage, and the forest labyrinth gave Yifan an incredible migraine in navigating it.

“This is it, right? The place that your academic books said the text would be,” Chanyeol said, his eyes half-crescents.

“It probably has traps,” Yifan said. “They usually do. The ancients were extremely protective of their legends.”

“I’m going with you.” And he left no rooms for argument. It sounded like he was saying wherever you go, I’ll go with you and Yifan was struck by the force of an invisible hand reaching in and squeezing his heart.

“Okay.”

The traps turned out to be puzzles, and Chanyeol actually helped him solve most of them with his random insights. When Yifan looked at him with something akin to wonder, Chanyeol said with a grin, “A different set of eyes always helps.”

The legend they had found turned out to be about a pair of lovers, reuniting once a year when the constellations in the sky held hands and formed a bridge for them cross and meet. Legends usually had a grain of truth to them, and that was why they were so sought for. They always told something about history, and Yifan stroked his hand across the fraying ends of the parchment, half-awed.

“At least you didn’t have to summon dragons this time,” Chanyeol said, sounding almost a little disappointed at not seeing his power first-hand. Yifan gave him the look.

“That was only once.”

Several seconds later, as they exited the hut, making sure to leave everything looking as it was because nature had been so ingrained with it, Chanyeol was squeezing Yifan’s bicep in excitement, saying, “We should celebrate! First legend we found together – this makes, what, your fourth?”

Yifan hummed. “It was surprisingly easy this time.”

“I’m your good luck charm.” Chanyeol gave a little hair flip with his finger, smugly smiling and Yifan had never adored someone so much before and – Chanyeol was tangling their fingers together again; oh gods no matter how many times he did that, he would never get used to it. Chanyeol’s voice had dropped down to a low, adoring whisper. “I think we belong together.”

And Yifan laughed because it sounded so utterly cheesy, and there was that pretty pout directed towards him again.

Sometimes Yifan laid awake at night, looking at Chanyeol’s resting profile, wondering if it was just Chanyeol’s joker personality having fun with him – if he was kidding when he said those sweet, annoying love declarations. That they were soul mates or whatever.

They had entered a crowded city, its lights powered by tired orbed faeries even in the middle of the night. Yifan waited for Chanyeol to finish buying their take-out so that they could hurry up and get to the place they rented (they were planning on staying for a few weeks actually, so Yifan could try and pinpoint where they should go next) and sleep. He was tired beyond belief.

A group of whispering, giggling girls nudged one girl forward. She gave them almost-glares before approaching him, eyes averted and darting to his face before fluttering.

“Are you a traveler?” she asked, leaning towards him into his personal space. Her lips formed a pretty pout (not as pretty as Chanyeol’s) as she gazed imploringly at him. “I can show you around. I know all the best places to eat here.”

He sighed, used to the attention. Before he could reject her, there was a heated hand on his hip and he turned, startled, to see Chanyeol’s amiably smiling face.

“Sorry, he doesn’t need your help. Thank you, though.” He gave her a sweeter smile and his words dripped sugary molasses, yet his eyes were so cold they could freeze a burning flame.

Yifan saw the shiver that encompassed the girl’s frame before she stammered out a reply and returned to her gaggle of disappointed friends.

The hand was gone and Yifan almost missed its warmth before his chest was spreading tendrils of flames at how close Chanyeol was, leaning towards him and eyes warm again. It was like nothing had happened.

“They said they didn’t have sesame soy sauce, but they did have this weird orangey looking sauce. Are you okay with that?” Chanyeol asked, holding up the still-warm bags of food, and Yifan nodded.

Later that night, the cold stole around their room because the heating (powered by stones infused with witch spells) sucked, and Yifan’s teeth were chattering. Chanyeol had heard and sleepily patted the space beside him, eyes wide and inviting. He gave up on resisting and slipped underneath Chanyeol’s blankets, sticking his freezing nose right in the hollow area between Chanyeol’s neck and shoulders and earned a surprised yelp. He smiled widely, a little glad it was dark even though Chanyeol’s expression was probably priceless.

“Why are you so warm?” He murmured, but didn’t expect a reply as he dozed off in the comforting heat.

The next day, he found out why. They were walking towards the library, which was guarded by marble lions whose eyes moved to track each visitor, when they were ambushed. It was, thankfully, an empty deserted street, but Yifan was taken by surprise as someone’s (fortunately not dipped in poison) sword sliced into his arm. He had dodged at the last second at sensing some kind of danger, and the next thing he knew, they were both surrounded by unknown assailants with black cloth wrapped around their faces, with only their eyes exposed. Yifan gritted his teeth; he knew what they wanted. Authentic legends sold for billions of rens and he had been attacked before because of the greed of others. He didn’t sell those legends – never planned on it – his plan was to give them to the international museum so that they would influence generations of children to come. Never had he been surrounded by so many assailants before, though.

He raised his hand up, and he knew there was too little time to call whatever dragons that were in the vicinity (the nearest he could sense were 5 miles away), but it was a good bluff. But there was Chanyeol and his heart clenched in worry and fear because he didn’t mean to involve him in such dangerous nonsense, but it had been too late anyway when Chanyeol had latched onto him like a puppy with a new toy.

The assailants hesitated a little, but they moved in closer, boxing them in nevertheless. Chanyeol’s attention was only concentrated on the crimson stain on Yifan’s arm.

“You’re hurt,” he whispered, voice shaky, eyes slightly wild.

“Chanyeol, run,” Yifan hissed.

“You’re hurt,” Chanyeol repeated, and he looked Yifan right in the eye and Yifan’s pupils expanded in shock because were Chanyeol’s eyes ever this golden-red? “They hurt you.”

“Chanyeol.”

“They’re going to pay for this,” Chanyeol said, with this fierce, intense look on his face that Yifan had never seen before and he was shaken from the core because where had the goofy Chanyeol gone? But the second that thought passed, there was heat everywhere, flames licking and lapping at Chanyeol’s skin and Yifan was, for a moment, terrified because he had thought that they set Chanyeol on fire before he realized that Chanyeol had set himself on fire. And Yifan, was for some odd reason (probably something of Chanyeol’s doing), fine while the people in black were screaming.

There was a mad look in Chanyeol’s eyes, almost verging on the point of insanity, and he was still burning with the red-hot fire before Yifan wrapped him up in his arms, telling him that he was fine now, they all ran away before Chanyeol relaxed and passed out into his chest.

“It usually takes a lot of energy out of me,” Chanyeol said after he woke up and finished fussing over Yifan’s injury. He was sucking on a sugar cane to replenish his energy. “Summoning fire.”

“You should’ve told me earlier. Almost gave me a heart-attack,” Yifan muttered, mussing his hair up with his hand.

“Aww, was Yifan scared?” Chanyeol teased, eye corners crinkling up.

Instead of responding like a normal person, Yifan leaned forward and licked the sugary sweetness from Chanyeol’s lips. Chanyeol was wide-eyed after Yifan leaned back with satisfaction. He felt a little smidgen of smugness because at least he found a sure-fire way of shutting Park Chanyeol up now.

Then Chanyeol had whined, “More” and who was Wu Yifan to say no?

Because Sometimes There Are No Happy Endings: short angst bffs!au Why can't you love me instead?

Chanyeol heart-wrenchingly sobs into his pillow why can’t he love me? and Wu Fan is trying to comfort him, hand rubbing on his best friend’s back, his own heart aching with scars throbbing across it. The scars are opening up again and bleeding. All he thinks (even though he tries so hard not to, not to be so incredibly selfish) is why can’t you love me instead? But he swallows that all down because Chanyeol doesn’t want him like that. And if Chanyeol needs his best friend right now, that’s all that Wu Fan will be for him. He will be whoever Chanyeol wants him to be.

Wu Fan never told him, about his daydreams of holding Chanyeol so close that there was no space left in between them, about the wanting. About holding his hand and having it actually mean something. About stupid romantic dates in the middle of a snowstorm. He knows it would break Chanyeol, fill him with such guilt that he’s unknowingly ripping his best friend’s heart much like someone else is doing to his own. No, instead Wufan just holds Chanyeol’s hand tightly (his thumb brushing Chanyeol’s knuckles, the core of his soul gasping for more) and pretends that he’s not also hurting. And you know what? He really hates Junmyeon, for not seeing what he sees. For not seeing the affectionate, bubbly exterior of Chanyeol’s personality as well as the broody layer underneath. For not noticing the way he is always conscious of other people’s pain (everyone’s, that is, except for Wu Fan’s). People assume Chanyeol is happy because he’s smiling all the time.

Wu Fan knows that isn’t true.

And he starts asking himself the same question that Chanyeol is repeating, because why can’t Junmyeon love him? There is nothing (in his eyes) not to love in Chanyeol. And all he wants right now is to see Chanyeol genuinely smile, even if it’s not him who causes it.

Playful Seduction: university confession!au Only Chanyeol has this kind effect on Wu Fan.

“I’m going to seduce Wu Fan,” Chanyeol announces, eyes squinting at the mirror as he brushes his hair back in the exact manner that he knows Wu Fan prefers it in. He is dressed in relatively tight but not incredibly slutty attire (unlike Jongin, who struts around like he wants people to lick him all over. And there are a lot of people who want to).

His friends are lounging around his dorm room, staring at him incredulously, but Jongdae breaks the silence first.

“You know, if you were anyone else, I would tell you that you had no chance. But you might actually succeed,” he says slowly, as if he can’t quite believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Chanyeol checks his reflection once more before turning to smile smugly at him. “I know.”

Jongin is rolling his eyes. “You guys are practically dating, anyway. Close friends, my ass.”

Lu Han tilts his head to properly examine Jongin’s ass. “I don’t know,” he says doubtfully, “why you would call attention to your ass when it’s not so impressive in the first place.”

Jongin flushes and makes a shrieking banshee kind of noise before flailing all over Lu Han. Chanyeol just snorts at the two of them before walking out. Typical, typical them.

He lets himself into Wu Fan’s room without knocking and smiles when he spots Wu Fan lying on the bed, reading a novel.

Chanyeol climbs onto the bed and flops onto Wu Fan, head buried in his chest. He inhales Wu Fan’s scent. Wu Fan just shifts and winds an arm around Chanyeol’s waist to keep him from falling off. His hand starts tracing mindless patterns on Chanyeol’s side. Only their inhales and exhales could be heard.

Wu Fan finally sets the book down, book marking it with one finger. “You look prettier than usual. Are you trying to seduce me?” He teases, not realizing that he kind of just hit the bull’s eye.

“Maybe,” Chanyeol says, wriggling around. He looks up, fluttering his eyelashes. “Is it working?”

“Hmm.” Wu Fan has freed his hand from the book and now has both of his hands around Chanyeol’s waist. “I don’t know. You might have to work a little harder than that.”

Chanyeol can’t help his lips from quirking up, but then a rarely seen nervous expression dominates his face. He looks down and breathes out: “What if I’m serious?”

“What?” Wu Fan asks softly, even though he has clearly heard. It’s just that he’s asking for clarification.

Chanyeol is still looking down and he starts playing with Wu Fan’s shirt, a nervous habit. This is less a seduction and more of a confession. Lately, they have been dancing around this thin line, being so comfortably close together and yet never too intimate.

“You remember when I introduce myself to you at that party?” Chanyeol asks.

“Yes?” Wu Fan is running his hand through Chanyeol’s locks of hair, and Chanyeol almost makes a small whimpering sound. This is the kind of closeness they have become, except they have never gotten to the point that Chanyeol wants them to be at. His hands are all clammy now and he’s suddenly finding it hard to breath because what if – ? What if Wu Fan gives him a look of utter pity and says I’m sorry after he’s done spilling his feelings out? Would he lose this, this proximity? A lancing pain runs through him at the mere thought.

But he must, because he feels like any day he might just climb all over Wu Fan and kiss the man senseless without any warning and that would be quite rude. And shocking, no less. That would probably violate all kinds of social rules.

“I spotted you first because you were just so damn tall,” Chanyeol says. Wu Fan’s laugh vibrates against Chanyeol’s chest. He continues: “and my first thought was I want him to be mine.”

He whispers the last part against Wu Fan’s neck, eyes squeezed shut. Whatever line that had existed between them had just been broken by this.

“Chanyeol,” Wu Fan’s voice has an extra layer of roughness. “Chanyeol, look at me.”

He reluctantly raises his head up and involuntarily shivers when Wu Fan’s finger tilts his chin up.

“Do you still think that?” Wu Fan asks.

Chanyeol wordlessly nods.

“What if I tell you, then,” Wu Fan says, rolling both of them so that they lie side by side on his bed. His hands are tangled in Chanyeol’s hair on both sides of his face. Chanyeol’s eyes are unblinkingly wide, “that I’m already pretty much yours? What would you do, then, hm?”

Wu Fan is pulling them closer, an irresistibly attractive smile lingering on his lips.

“Well?” Wu Fan asks, having stopped so that they are only half an inch apart. Chanyeol is still struck speechless. “What are you waiting for? Kiss me.”

There is no thought required for this, so Chanyeol just fluidly melts into Wu Fan’s arms, tentatively pressing their lips together and then getting braver, sliding his slightly chapped lips against Wu Fan’s more urgently. Wu Fan’s heartbeat is racing underneath his open palm, and they pant against each other’s mouths.

“Mhmm,” Chanyeol almost purrs as Wu Fan massages into his exposed skin right above his waistline with magical thumbs. He pulls Wu Fan back for taste more honey sweetness in his mouth. They won’t go further than this today, but the thought that they’re going to have more in the future makes Chanyeol want to break out into dancing on top of the roof. But right now is not a good idea.

They indulge in a few more kisses before Chanyeol is stifling a small yawn and Wu Fan notices (he always does).

“Sleep. We both have classes tomorrow,” Wu Fan says, leaning to turn the lamp off.

“I should shower,” Chanyeol mumbles, but not with any enthusiasm because he really doesn’t have any energy to actually move (his adrenalin rush from before is wearing off and his 3 hours of sleep is catching up on him). The kiss Wu Fan leaves on his forehead leaves a white-hot imprint.

“In the morning.”

Chanyeol is all wrapped up and enfolded inside Wu Fan’s hold and he smiles sleepily and contentedly. This isn’t going to be the first time that he sleepovers at Wu Fan’s room, but it is the first time that he does so without a sleeping bag.

Tomorrow, his friends are so going to wolf-whistle and tease him about succeeding on his mission to seduce Wu Yi Fan. He finds the thought almost amusing, because he kind of did succeed, he thinks as darkness envelops him.

Take Care of Me: sick!au Jongdae just has a headache and Junmyeon's being annoying. As usual.

"My head hurts,” Jongdae said.

He huffed when he got no response.

“My head hurts,” he said just a little louder.

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it?” Junmyeon glared at him, mouth slanting sideways.

Jondgdae shifted underneath the covers, squinting up at his best friend (my god, Junmyeon’s bed was so freaking plushy and comfortable, like he could sink into it and never come up for air).

“I don’t know.” He knew he sounded sulky but he was sick for goodness sakes and he was never sick. This was like. Once every few years, and god he forgot how much his sinuses felt clogged and his whole system was like. Trying to drag him down into the Pit of the Undead.

“You suck,” Jongdae told Junmyeon as he deigned to ignore him and his complaints.

“Yes,” Junmyeon replied with just the slightest bit of innuendo smugness. “I do. Quite well, actually.”

“Ugh.” Jongdae didn’t even bother to throw the pillow nestling under his head because a) he needed it and b) he had no strength to. He shivered, drawing the covers closer to himself.

“You’re still cold? I filched every single blanket from the corners of this apartment and piled it on top of you and you’re still cold?” Junmyeon’s voice, although loud and bitchy, was usually kind of soothing. For Jongdae anyway. He could fall asleep on a soundtrack of Junmyeon’s nagging, if only because he had heard it so many times (and had fallen asleep to his best friend ranting about something before, usually someone who pissed him off that day, actually). Today, though, with all of Narnia threatening to burst from the closet that is Jongdae’s mind and wreck havoc, it felt like gongs banging around. He winced.

Junmyeon obviously noticed (he only noticed these things but never the stuff that counted – never Jongdae’s curled up smile disappearing after seeing someone else hold Junmyeon’s hand – never that). He lowered his voice. “Did you take your medicine?” in a very resigned tone.

Jongdae’s voice was feeling hoarse so he just poked his nose into the blankets and nodded. It was still so so cold.

His eyes were barely closed when he felt something burrowing at his side and he yelped, moving away.

“What are you doing?” He squeaked, only for Junmyeon’s hands to reach out and put the covers over both of them.

“Solving the fucking problem,” he felt a mumble against his neck as Junmyeon’s arms went around his waist and their chests bump against each other and now Jongdae had an entirely different reason to shiver.

He didn’t feel like the chill was about to reach into his body and freeze him like a frozen popsicle any more, not with Junmyeon’s heat enclosed all around him. His breathing is more even now, and he tentatively rested his cold feet against Junmyeon’s (covered by socks or else he would’ve been hit for that) and might or might not have snuggled against the comfortable scent of Junmyeon. He allowed himself to melt and sigh a little.

This was enough. For now.

Spice It Up: (with equal helpings of Jundae) students with powers!au Jongdae thought that this new student, Park Chanyeol, was a bit strange but very likeable nonetheless. Someone who he believed was ordinary, at least, until he was proven wrong.

Everyone knew that the Dragon was dangerous. He was hard to get close to. He was a man that was regarded somewhat like a celebrity, although maybe more with a sort of awe reserved for people like princes and generals.

Nothing much was known about him except for his high rank and no one really knew his power either. Just that he could leave indelible scars on a battlefield seconds after he was supposedly outnumbered. It had something to do with air, Jongdae bet. Because there were six main elements (Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Dark, and Light) and that was what most people believed anyway. The Dragon – his name was Kris even though it probably was just a pseudonym – was rarely seen walking around although the times that the media and the cameras were able to catch him, he was alone. But there was a silver ring nestled comfortably on his ring finger, and that had always been the source of never ending gossip.

Jongdae pursed his lips as he strode into the Academy, not even bothering to carry a book bag as many other students did. He had a more convenient way to lug books around. He sighed contentedly as he settled down in his seat and reached into a pocket of shadow for his notebook. The solid wall rippled under his fingers and gave way into his oh-so-nice-and-awesome shadow pocket where he kept most of his stuff (even his keys because he was prone to forgetting them).

He was prepared for another afternoon of relaxed napping through lectures when the sliding door opened to reveal Junmyeon. Jongdae’s spine reflexively straightened, and all of a sudden he didn’t know whether or not he should look directly at the Student President. His fingers twitched when their eyes ended up holding each other’s gaze anyway, and Junmyeon gave him a little smirk from the corners of his mouth and ohgod Jongdae was forgetting how to breath all over a g a i n.

It was just one night, just one kiss – and that was all that happened, and yet a heated rush of jittering feelings always consumed him whenever he thought back to it. A masquerade party that he hadn’t planned on attending, even though it was the school’s tradition; he went anyway because Yixing was being his nagging self. It was easy to recognize Junmyeon even with his simply decorated face mask (partly because he had been harboring a crush for years) and he had been dragged off into a dimly lit corner. Junmyeon’s eyes had been wickedly dark and he pulled all sorts of strange gasping noises from Jongdae’s mouth because who knew the Student President could kiss like that? One thing was sure though. He wasn’t all that innocent as he appeared.

It simply made Jongdae fall that much harder.

“I’m here to introduce a new transfer student,” Junmyeon said smoothly with that flawless angelic smile. The teacher was respectfully standing on the side, letting Junmyeon do his duty.

A tall guy who, despite the long limbs, managed to make his movements look strangely graceful was standing next to Junmyeon and gave the class a mismatched wide smile. Jongdae, oddly enough, liked him at first glance. He was a pretty boy, although that was hard to notice when his smile was so wide it could give someone else a scare in the middle of the night.

“I’m Park Chanyeol.” That voice alone made several students jump and jitter in their seats, for reasons. There was some sniggering from some boys who were probably going to pick on him later on because it had been awhile since they’ve found new prey and they were mean enough to do that. Chanyeol looked like he would be easy to pick on as well. Jongdae was not going to let that happen if he could help it. He was already raising protective hackles over this boy even though he had no idea why.

“There’s an empty seat next to me,” Jongdae said while lazily raising an arm. The whole class shifted in their seats to stare at him because he rarely was present in class – as in, his body was present, but everything else was not (read: sleeping in class or just plain daydreaming).

“Thank you, Jongdae,” Junmyeon said. The way his own name rolled off Junmyeon’s tongue like it was an exotic delicacy gave him goosebumps. Was this what flirting felt like? It was thrilling.

“Jongdae, right?” Chanyeol leaned, all bright and enthusiastically, as he wriggled into his seat. His legs were too long for the desk.

Jongdae nodded, finding it quite easy to smile in front of his new classmate and possibly friend. There was a kind of contagiousness to the other guy’s smile.

The class lecture started, and instead of rolling his eyes and putting his head on his arms to sleep as usual, he was distracted with a piece of paper being thrown onto his desk. Chanyeol had neat, elegant handwriting – exactly the opposite of his expectations. Jongdae spent the rest of the lecture trying to explain in writing what the lecture was about and they started delving into other small talk.

This was apparently Chanyeol’s first time inside this kind of school – a school that taught students how to control their strange powers. I was homeschooled before, Chanyeol wrote in his pretty script.

Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it here, Jongdae wrote extra sarcastically, and Chanyeol seemed to get the sarcasm a little because he chortled next to him upon getting the note.

“Is he the new guy?” Yixing pointed his fork at Chanyeol, who Jongdae suspected had some form of mild ADHD because he was distracted by every new little thing inside the school. It took them forever to get to the cafeteria.

“Yup.” Jongdae plucked the banana from Yixing’s other hand and stuffed his mouth with it, earning an offended jab to the side. “Everyone, meet Park Chanyeol. Chanyeol, this is everyone.”

“Hi!” Chanyeol chirped. And apparently the charm that worked on Jongdae worked on everyone else too, because Kyungsoo was patting the empty seat next to him and Jongin was staring inquisitively at Chanyeol over Sehun’s shoulder. Yixing spared him a smile before going back to his attempt of regaining his lost banana.

“Oh look, there’s Junmyeon.” Yixing pointed, and Jongdae’s head turned around so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash.

“Where?”

Yixing snickered as he took back his half-eaten banana. “Works every time.”

A horribly strangled sound emerged from Jongdae’s throat and he was just about to leap onto Yixing to strangle one of his best friends when Chanyeol’s head turned to his direction as well.

“Oh, Junmyeon!” Chanyeol said. This time the whole table turned to see the Student President actually standing there (where the hell did he pop from?).

“Good to see that you’re adjusting well here.” And holy urmph, Junmyeon’s voice and face and everything always ended up paralyzing Jongdae and giving him sweaty palms.

“I am, thanks for guiding me around the school,” Chanyeol said, and surprisingly did not say more. His eyes flitted to Jongdae and Jongdae unfroze a little to notice that Junmyeon was also looking at him with an odd light in his eyes.

When Junmyeon walked away, Chanyeol scooted closer to whisper in Jongdae’s ear: “I think you should ask him out. He looks interested.”

Jongdae turned bright tomato red and Yixing had surprisingly heard because he laughed and hi-fived Chanyeol because “I had been trying to tell him that the whole past year!”

A few days into the new semester, everyone in Jongdae’s class had adjusted to Chanyeol’s presence in the room. They had seemingly assessed him and his just-barely-passing test scores and deemed him as moderately insignificant and somewhat of a smiley airhead. Jongdae was still struggling with the fact that there existed someone who could be that bubbly every single day.

Weirdly enough, he was bubbly but not annoyingly so. That was rather hard to achieve but there was a steadiness about Chanyeol’s tone of voice even though he was always moving in some way. A finger tapping out staccato rhythms on the desk. A knee bobbing up and down and an occasional head bob to go along with it. He also liked to play with a ring that glinted in shades of silver, which was around his neck and was weirdly familiar looking.

Even though Jongdae clearly didn’t give a shit, this Academy was one of the most prestigious and students who graduated with top marks often went on to make a name for themselves. The Academy was special to the point that it was its own jurisdiction inside this country. Many graduates hoped to reach the level of the Dragon, or the even more mysterious Phoenix.

“Your grades are good though,” Chanyeol said dubiously. Jongdae was too slow in hiding his new test this time around. His face at Chanyeol’s statement brought realization on his face. “Oh, did you not want other people to know that you’re some kind of genius?”

“I just study and take good notes,” Jongdae said steadily. They stared at each other for a good few seconds before breaking out into laughter because they both knew that Jongdae never did that.

“Well,” Chanyeol shrugged as he stretched, “That explains why you can take the luxury of sleeping during class. You understand everything already.”

Jongdae made a ‘humph’ kind of noise, choosing to toss everything (including Chanyeol’s stuff because he got too lazy to lug them back home too when there was practically no homework that day) into his shadow pocket. The three girls sitting in front of them were making some kind of commotion over a magazine article. They were squealing as the middle one turned a page and kept jumping around in excitement. More girls were gathering around them now that class ended.

Jongdae sighed. Oh, he knew what they were fangirling over. Kris again. He respected him a lot, but just not to that extent.

Chanyeol, evidently, was ignorant to this weekly ritual. He was blinking and peering to see the pictures they were looking at.

“He’s so hot,” one girl said, “I’m going to melt into a puddle.” And even the more mature girls were nodding along to the agreeing sighs.

Before the usual worshipping began where they all started bringing out their cell phone pictures in a competition to see who had more Kris photos saved onto their phone, Chanyeol said, like he was commenting on the goddamn weather: “Oh. That’s my husband.”

The classroom had never seen that much silence before. And that was saying something, because silence should not be able to be seen, and yet it was that tangible. Even the guys, as they were heading out of the door, swiveled their heads around to stare.

Jongdae was not really sure how he should react. Laugh?

That was what one of the girls chose to do, her name was Lauren or Victoria or something of the like? Jongdae was just going to mentally stick with Victoria. “Oh, I didn’t know you liked Kris too,” she said. Her smile revealed a bit of teeth, almost challengingly. “It’s okay, we can include you in our fanclub.”

She had interpreted his sentence as one of those typical fan claims – many girls called Kris their hubby just because if they say it enough, maybe it will become real.

“There’s a fanclub?” Chanyeol looked less than impressed, even though one of the co-presidents of the most influential fanclubs ever was extending an olive branch out to him. Jongdae’s eye twitched, because he could save Chanyeol from potential bullies but not fangirls.

“Let him think about it,” Jongdae said in a rush, already dragging Chanyeol out the door before the bloodshed could begin.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed once they were outside. “Did you want to be killed? Why did you say that?”

Chanyeol’s mouth was twitching with amusement, out of all things. “I forgot how scary fangirls could be.”

“What?” Jongdae could barely believe that he still looked calm even though he just spouted one of the strangest sentence that he had ever heard coming from Park Chanyeol’s mouth today – and there were many, trust him.

“Oh there’s Junmyeon.” Chanyeol waved one of his lanky arms. “Junmyeon!”

Jongdae didn’t even get to say another word when his wrist was gripped tightly and he was forcibly dragged to stop in front of Junmyeon (who looked really really good and maybe kind of lickable in his buttoned up shirt and jeans).

“Hi guys,” Junmyeon said, adjusting his backpack strap with one arm. He was all nice-smile-guy as usual, and Jongdae felt his blood boil from almost frustration because he knew there was more underneath that smile.

“Are you free right now?” Chanyeol’s head tilted, almost a bit cutely. “Do you want to hang out with us? We’re going to that café next to the music store right now.”

Jongdae half-spluttered, because hadn’t they agreed on going straight home today?

“Yup.” Junmyeon’s eyes were resting rather heavily on Jongdae. He turned back to Chanyeol with an easy-going smile. “I’m free.”

Jongdae somehow made it to the café without spontaneously exploding from the lingering brushes of his hand with Junmyeon’s as they walked and just his presence was enough to want to shrivel up in the amount of feels.

Just as they were going to order their drinks, Chanyeol made a gasp. He hit his palm with a fist, almost too exaggeratedly, and said, “I forgot something at school. Don’t wait for me, guys.”

Jongdae was left to gape after his disappearing figure, and then the cashier was asking him what kind of order he would like. What kind of stuff would Chanyeol have left if they were all stored in his shadow pocket?

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Chanyeol’s text read: Have fun with Junmyeon!

The peace sign next to the emoticon at the end of the message was enough to make him gurgle.

“Is something wrong?” Junmyeon was looking at him like he knew that Chanyeol had just ditched them so that they could alone together and oh god Jongdae was going to start hyperventilating any moment now.

“No,” his voice came out kind of steady even though he felt like a mess inside right now. “Not at all.”

He almost dropped his latte when Junmyeon’s finger brushed purposefully from his shoulder down to his elbow. Junmyeon lightly chuckled, eyes dancing.

“You’re so sensitive,” he said, his voice lower than before.

Jongdae’s heart was suddenly pounding painfully against his chest. He was pretty sure he resembled a frozen statue.

Not to be outdone, though, he retorted, “I’m just ticklish.”

“Hmmmm.” Was it possible that Junmyeon could make a sound as meaningless as that sound sexy? Yes, yes it was.

They had somehow reached a park after walking around aimlessly. Jongdae noticed that Junmyeon didn’t really leave a space between them when they sat down.

“So,” Jongdae said, “Is this a date? Because it’s an awfully quiet one.”

That startled laughter from Junmyeon. “Yes, it is a date.”

Whatever courage that he had used with that one question left him at Junmyeon’s simple reply. He opened his mouth but no sound left him. He felt rather like that frog in those fairy tales.

“Would you like to be my boyfriend, Jongdae?” Junmyeon’s arm was resting on the bench around Jongdae’s shoulder and he was leaning in so close Jongdae could count his eyelashes. “Because just warning you, I’m not the kind of person people usually expect me to be.”

“I know,” his honesty surprised both of them. “I liked that.”

There was that dangerous little smirk on the corners of his lips again, and Jongdae had been waiting for that long to see it again. “Was that a yes?”

“Yes, that was a yes.” And he breathed in and latched onto Junmyeon’s lips. He earned a quick gasp before Junmyeon’s hand was possessively on his back, holding him there.

“My boyfriend’s rather enthusiastic, isn’t he?” It was obvious that Junmyeon took pleasure in calling Jongdae that. Jongdae also flushed too easily.

“Shut up,” he said. And leaned in for more.

“Say it,” Chanyeol said triumphantly tomorrow when Jongdae walked into the classroom. “I’m a genius.”

“You’re a genius,” Jongdae said resignedly. “Thank you for your matchmaking skills.”

Chanyeol clapped like a seal. He really clapped like a seal.

Everyone had apparently heard, either shooting Jongdae jealous looks or calling out congratulations. Not used to the attention, he just nodded awkwardly (because why would people say congratulations? It wasn’t like he won the marathon or anything). At lunch, Yixing was sighing over how he and Junmyeon finally got together and everyone else at the table was either tossing food at each other because the food was disgusting that day or trying to ignore Yixing’s melodramatic rants.

Oh, and Junmyeon sat next to him.

Which made his stomach clench and all, but yeah.

If he thought about it too long, blood would over flood his cheeks.

It was a special schedule today because they had a class that helped them actually practice their powers instead of being lectured at. Jongdae just remembered that it was also Chanyeol’s first class in this because the instructor was calling him up to demonstrate to the class what his most impressive skill was.

“Oh, urm,” Chanyeol said, looking strangely nervous for once, shuffling his feet. “Well, this is something that I’ve worked on for years, actually.”

Everyone held their breath in anticipation, and then Chanyeol raised his arm. A small flicker of fire, just enough to light a candle, danced on his fingertip. He beamed at the rest of the class like it was the hugest inferno fireball ever and some people actually face-palmed while others laughed a bit meanly and almost in relief.

Jongdae was still in disbelief when Chanyeol settled back into his seat with something like a pout on his face. Was that seriously his best skill?

“I really did work for years on that,” Chanyeol said, and sulked for the rest of the class because no one else could apparently appreciate a small flicker of flame.

The next class rolled in and Jongdae jolted awake when Genie by SNSD came on in ring tone. Of course it happened to be Chanyeol’s ring tone. He smiled bashfully at the teacher and excused himself from class. When Jongdae wandered out for the bathroom (and because he was just a tidbit curious), he saw Chanyeol leaning against the doorway of an empty classroom, surprisingly not saying a lot back to the caller. It was the smile that made Jongdae stop in his tracks and do a double take. It wasn’t the typical wide-eyed mismatched smile but a softer kind, with all sorts of lovely memories in the corners of his mouth and the stars that shone out of his eyes. Jongdae felt like he was intruding in on something that maybe he shouldn’t have seen. He only caught a name, Yifan, and teasing laughter following the ends of that name before it faded away with the echoes of his footsteps.

Of course he wondered who that person was to Chanyeol, but it was quite easy to guess.

“Did you see the papers today?” Jongdae gestured wildly as he set down the newspapers on Chanyeol’s desk. “It’s on the front page.”

Chanyeol skimmed the page and nodded, actually really kind of calmly. “Oh yes. I saw.”

Jongdae started flailing, just barely hitting one of the students walking by. “The Principal of our school doesn’t just get arrested everyday.”

Chanyeol nodded again. “Took quite awhile too.”

Before he could bother trying to figure out what that sentence meant, Chanyeol was pointing at something else on the front page and commenting on it. Jongdae filed it away as something to think about later.

Later never came. Instead, something else decided to come. Or more specifically, someone else.

It was break time, to be frank, with everyone from their lunch table gathered around Jongdae’s and Chanyeol’s desk because apparently their classroom was the quietest usually. Break time was kind of like an extra period where students could use it for studying, catching up on homework, or maybe just hang out – which was what they did.

The school exploded into chaos pretty quickly. It was quite like a chain, somewhat like an action potential going up the axons of a neuron. People peeked out of the classrooms and crowded up the hallways, a general sense of excitement filling the air. Most didn’t even know what was happening; they just joined the crowd because the more the merrier.

“Is there a giant elephant inside the school or something? Why are they so hyped up,” Jongdae said. His boyfriend, who usually was updated on school happenings because he was the Student President and all, gave him a helpless shrug and an amused quirk of the brow.

Chanyeol had straightened up from the card game that some of them were unenthusiastically playing and cocked his head. He smiled, and Jongdae blinked because it was that same adoring smile he saw in the empty hallway and the cell phone incident.

“Yifan,” Chanyeol said quietly. Then his expression quickly changed to exasperation. “Why’s that idiot here?”

“Who?” Yixing asked, echoed almost amusingly by everyone else. But by then, the crowd of students had swarmed into their classrooms and now Jongdae could see why there was such a big commotion.

The Dragon was here.

He was actually here, in flesh and bones, Kris – one of the most powerfully ranked men in this country and the one the media would go through hell and back just to snap a few more photos of because he was just that famous.

A hand covered his and squeezed, assuring Jongdae that yes, this was very much real and not a product of his own imagination and all. He squeezed Junmyeon’s hand back. He probably needed the grounding too.

The Dragon just didn’t even blink an eye, looking like the classroom was a runway strip and he was still walking towards them until he stopped. A few inches. Away from Chanyeol’s desk.

“Chanyeol,” Kris said, a lingering warmth in the last syllable. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were fixated on the tall, slightly awkward boy who everyone had assumed to be utterly ordinary until this. He didn’t seem to be intimidated by the attention at all, and his expression was still that cross between amusement and exasperation.

“I was in the middle of a very important card game, Yifan,” Chanyeol said, and Jongdae almost choked because that was one of the most boring card games he had ever witnessed, but then Chanyeol kind of just stopped everyone’s thought processes and leaned up to kiss Kris.

On the mouth.

It was a peck, but still.

Lots of people had their jaws wide open, and if Jongdae weren’t in the same unfortunate condition, he would’ve snapped a lot of photos and then laughed over their expressions later.

Kris – who was also apparently that mysterious Yifan, okay – laughed lightly and hugged Chanyeol with his arms winding around his waist. Jongdae thought he saw a girl pass out into the arms of her friend.

“Hi,” Kris said softly into Chanyeol’s mouth and Jongdae kind of felt like a voyeur but everyone else was staring unabashedly too. It was just that the couple was clearly in their own world.

“Did you just trespass into my school?” Chanyeol asked, a note of teasing indignation in his tone.

Kris shrugged. “It wasn’t like the security guard gave me any issues.”

A snort in response. “Probably too busy gaping at you to think.”

“Not my fault I’m so good-looking.”

“Good looking, my ass. Just because your mother is a beautiful woman who happened to pass on her genes to you – stop laughing at me!”

“Missed you too.”

No one wanted to break their singular concentration on each other but the teacher had marched in. She waded through the crowd, hair a mess, and demanded: “What’s happening here – Oh.”

She spotted Chanyeol and Kris holding each other and her eyes bugged out. She lost her speech functions like the rest of them.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol said. “I’ll tell him to alert you guys next time.”

“Next time,” Jongdae repeated incredulously, and then realized he spoke out loud. Whoops.

“Ahaha, your face is funny, Jongdae,” Chanyeol said, grinning. He just seemed to take in the reactions of everyone around them. “Actually, all of you look so surprised. I did say that Kris was my husband before, didn’t I?”

Victoria let out a squeak before muffling her mouth with her hand.

In hindsight, everything was so unbelievably obvious to Jongdae. Chanyeol sat them all down (Jongdae and his other friends, so a lot of people that were left insatiably curious had to hear it second-hand from Yixing who wrote for the school newspaper – and even he edited out some details later) in a bubble tea store and tried to explain everything. The beam he gave Kris after he brought back a drink for the both of them was enough sugar to last Jongdae for a lifetime and he had to lean sideways to whisper-ask Junmyeon if they were like that too as a couple please tell him they weren’t as disgustingly cute like that as well. Junmyeon laughed back at him and told him that sorry to disappoint you, but yes, we are as cute as that. Just with a bit more spice and sarcasm.

“I,” Chanyeol paused (they were leaning forwards, and Kyungsoo groaned to show that he could feel the suspense) to drink from the taro bubble tea, “am the Phoenix.”

There was a silence enough to suffocate all other silences.

“Well,” Jongdae drawled out. “Nice to know. Why am I not surprised anymore?”

“You guys believe me?” Chanyeol looked up through his eyelashes. “Really?”

“The Dragon appeared out of nowhere and you expect us not to believe you? Really?” That was Jongin squawking with ridiculous arm gestures. If it weren’t for Sehun his practical twin-yet-not-really-twin hanging all over him, he would’ve hit everyone sitting around the table.

“He was here mostly for his mission,” Kris said, and his presence was really larger than life. It felt like he could fell a few planets with a few choice words.

“But I’m staying for the rest of the school year,” Chanyeol latched on. “School was more fun than I thought! Especially with you guys.”

“That was like an explanation that just gave us more answers, Chanyeol,” Junmyeon steadily said. “Could you go from the beginning?”

Chanyeol did. He had been assigned the mission of investigating the shadowy potentially illegal going-ons of their ex-Principal, and since the Academy was a jurisdiction of its own, he had to become one of the students in order to do it. The day that he had been matchmaking Jongdae and Junmyeon together was also the day he left them at the café and went back into the school to get more information. Two birds with one stone, in Chanyeol’s words.

“You’re like a cop undercover,” Jongdae said, making ‘hmm-ing’ noises. “Very impressive. I’m still in shock, actually. This will take awhile to set in. But was it just a joke then? That lesson when you said that little fireball was the best you could do?”

Kris snickered, obviously knowing what Jongdae was talking about. Chanyeol reddened.

“Yeah, err. I trained for years to do that actually. Kris helped,” Chanyeol said. Kyungsoo was staring with wide eyes while dredging the last parts of his bubble tea and Yixing’s hand was a blur as he tried to take notes. Chanyeol coughed self-consciously. “I’m actually really horrible at control, so it’s easier for me to set a warehouse on fire than light a candle.”

Jongdae settled back against Junmyeon’s arm, a strange noise coming from the back of his throat. Set a warehouse on fire. Of course the Phoenix could do that.

They still wanted more details, naturally (like how the hell did you two get together? And what the hell – how come no one really knows what you look like, Chanyeol? There were tons of photos of Kris but, that was answered later on one of many phone calls between Jongdae and Chanyeol, something about technology not working around Chanyeol when he didn’t want it to and he was better suited for undercover work anyway). But they had thrown out their bubble tea containers and Chanyeol was yawning, and tugging at Kris’ hand and waving them goodbye.

Jongdae almost half-thought that he wasn’t going to be at school tomorrow, but he was, and their classmates were varying between staring at Chanyeol like yesterday might’ve been some kind of dream and purposefully not staring at him.

“Eh,” Chanyeol just said. “They’ll forget about it soon enough.”

And they did, when upperclassmen Kim Heechul was caught in the closet with underclassman Jungmo and Heechul just smirked all through the day. But Jongdae will never forget.

Take My Hand

flameflowerful — Wed, 20 Feb 2013 05:13:05 GMT

Summary: The problem with having Kris as his stalker is that no one believes him when Chanyeol complains about it (also known as the story of a person conquering his own insecurities to find the true beauty in life).
Rating: PG-13 Yay.
Author Note: This was harder to type up than my first Krisyeol oneshot even though it's shorter. This world needs more Krisyeol fanfics because I'm pretty sure I've read most of them. I think that this oneshot needs a lot of critiques. So bring them on. I was writing it with character development (which I'm pretty sure I kind of botched) and changing of tenses in mind. :D Also, I'm finally kind of getting LJ formatting. Kind of.

Chanyeol sits on his bus stop bench. He slides down it like a piece of grilled octopus. Once he reaches the ground, he tips his head back onto the bench seat and makes a tiny strangulated sound in the back of his throat. The lady with too much rouge on her cheeks tries to shift away to a farther seat from him surreptitiously.

“What’s wrong, baby?” A voice with rough tinges around its edges (a voice that he knows too well, unfortunately) asks.

Chanyeol shrieks a little, twitching and nearly slamming his head into the edge of the bench. He turns to glare up at the shadow that is standing over him.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that? And stop stalking me,” Chanyeol says. The lady from before is side-eyeing them, but somehow is also looking at Kris like he’s a tasty appetizer. Chanyeol doesn’t blame her. Kris, at his 6 feet and 3 inches (he claims it’s 4) glory, completes the picture of a Greek statue with his to-drool-for body. It doesn’t help that he has a face that makes Chanyeol instinctively want to punch because whose face looks like that realistically?

“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong,” Kris says doggedly, crouching down to Chanyeol’s eyelevel. Chanyeol reaches out and pushes Kris’ face away because he is too close. Kris has no sense of definition when it comes to Chanyeol’s personal space. He disturbingly nuzzles against Chanyeol’s palm and Chanyeol, horrified, snatches his hand away.

“If you must know,” Chanyeol says, “it’s because I have a ten-page paper due tomorrow. Which I just realized existed. Even though the professor told us about it two months ago but how would I know because I was sleeping. I mean, where is the justice in life? Why. Why did she have to announce it the one day I took a nap?”

Here, Chanyeol stops his arm-waving and smacks his hands on his cheeks and claws them down his face despairingly.

“If it’s any consolation, I think that your ass looks terrific in these jeans today,” Kris says, a wayward smirk lining his lips as he tries to lean sideways to get a better look. The lady sitting on the bench close to them chokes on her gum.

Chanyeol tries not to look pleased. He thinks those are his best jeans, too, they really bring out his ass-shape very well, but –

He brings his leg out and slowly yet surely presses his foot against Kris’ legs so that he tips over sideways onto the ground. Kris merely grins and is still raking his eyes over Chanyeol’s legs. And oh look! There’s the bus. Chanyeol hops up from the cold concrete ground and hopes that Kris doesn’t follow him.

No such luck.

“You suck at flirting,” Chanyeol tells Kris as he slides the card in. Kris looks tempted to use the innuendo implied in Chanyeol’s words but instead passes up on it.

“But you love it.”

Chanyeol gives him angry eyebrows and turns away. He plops down on a window seat and stares out of the window. And then he mumbles, “Maybe.”

Kris looks like he has gotten both his birthday and Christmas presents at the same time when Chanyeol turns back to him.

“Does that mean we can go on a date now?” Kris asks.

“No.”

Kris doesn’t even look surprised at the answer, probably because he has gotten the same response every time. He just fakes a look of complete and utter puppy-like sadness and gives Chanyeol glittery eyes.

Chanyeol shudders, feeling chills run up and down his arms. “You give me goose bumps when you do that.”

“In a romantic way?” Kris now changes his look to that of a dark smoldering look. The kind that angsty male protagonists in popular teen romance books have. He’s too good with that look, and Chanyeol feels heat climbing up the back of his neck even though he knows Kris is purposely exaggerating it.

“Just. Never let other people see it or they’ll run screaming away from you.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Kris lets his normal expression of a cocky young adult who is too good looking for his own good take over his face again.

Chanyeol puffs up one side of his cheek in frustration. Kris gives him a wide-opened smile, teeth showing.

“You’re so adorable when you do that,” Kris says.

Chanyeol’s eyebrow twitches (does this man have no shame?) and pulls out his laptop. He turns it on, determined to spend the rest of the ride ignoring the presence of the drop-dead gorgeous guy next to him, who is still staring at him absorbingly.

He also does his best to ignore the thrill running through his fingertips at getting yet another compliment from Kris.

The problem with Kris stalking him is that no one believes Chanyeol when he complains about Kris stalking him. First of all, there’s Kris’ hotness. Second of all, who would stalk Chanyeol? Third of all, there’s Kris’ hotness. Yeah, it mostly boils down to his looks, which can give girls explosions of ovaries with one look. Or at least that’s what Lu Han says.

Chanyeol himself is still trying to puzzle out why Kris seems to like to pop up at random places (behind a banana stand once, too) and follow him around to direct dirty pick-up lines at Chanyeol.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sehun says, rolling his eyes and still manages to look like a mindless, flawless zombie. “He likes you.”

“He probably just likes teasing me,” Chanyeol says. He rolls up a corner of his bed sheets and watches them uncurl. Sehun makes this shrug that means ‘suit yourself’ and proceeds to open up a bag of potato chips. Chanyeol narrows his eyes at his best friend.

“You. That’s Jongdae’s chips,” he says. Sehun nods solemnly, but then his lips form a malicious little smirk as he devours the chips anyway. Chanyeol scowls at him. His roommate is so going to murder him when he gets back to see that his chips are gone. Again.

Chanyeol sighs and rolls around on his bed, not wanting to deal with stupid Sehun (he just did alliteration there! Hah!). He has piles of homework waiting for him, glaring at him from his desk, but he really isn’t in the mood to do it. His brain juice has all been sapped from writing that ten page paper two nights ago.

“You know,” Sehun says, kicking at Chanyeol’s back. “It isn’t stalking if the stalkee is willing.”

Chanyeol props himself up with one hand. “I don’t think stalkee is a word.”

Sehun turns his nose up and opens his mouth to pop in a potato chip obnoxiously. “It is if I say so.”

“And willing? Since when have I been willing?”

Sehun points a potato chip at him. “Admit it. You like it when he follows you around like a demented puppy.”

Chanyeol gives him a glare that ends up looking like a scary pout instead. He pushes his head into his blankets, refusing to respond to Sehun’s taunt. He’s never been much of a good liar.

Sehun’s statement of pure fact is still reeling in his head like a bad movie rerun during class. He is typing notes down for Economic 101 while his head is trying to list out the reasons he dislikes Kris stalking him (which would lead to a good argument of why he is not a willing victim of said stalking).

For one thing, Kris attracts attention wherever he goes. It’s not just the height. It’s the way his smile just tilts up in one way that is equally alluring and screams out ‘I’m a bad boy, look at me!’ at the same time. Chanyeol hates having stranger’s probing eyes on him. People’s eyes on him means that they expect something from him. Good or bad, they don’t care. They just want something to talk about. Chanyeol doesn’t think he can give them anything to talk about. He’s not the type to be able to reach up to their expectations.

The familiar strangulating ball of stress is making his hands clammy again. He wipes his hands on his jeans before continuing to type. He got off topic. He is supposed to list out why he doesn’t like being stalked by Kris. He’s racking his brain for another reason when he looks up and sees Kris’ silhouette chilling outside of the door. His heart speeds up like he is about to get on a rollercoaster ride.

Here, Chanyeol’s thought process hesitates before setting its foot tentatively near the precipice. He forces his eyes to tear away from the lean form of Kris and refocus on his notes. There’s a ringing sound in his ears, so he doesn’t type anymore because he can’t process what his professor is teaching them.

The main reason he doesn’t want Kris to wait for him like this is because he’s terrified of not being able to live up to his expectation. Why is Kris wasting his time with him anyway?

The professor looks at his watch and calls it a day. Some students dawdle about, waiting to catch a word with the professor, while others, like Chanyeol, quickly pack and bolt off. Seohyun catches his eye and gives him this knowing little smirk, while glancing meaningfully at Kris leaning against the wall outside. His whole face flushes.

(Last week, she had sat next to him and lamented about the sad fact that she doesn’t have a hot boyfriend like Chanyeol does. Chanyeol had almost spilled the coffee of the person behind him while trying to explain that no, they are not dating in any way, shape, or form. She just looked at him with arched eyebrows, and then said, Oh I see. That’s alright, Chanyeollie. I’ve been in denial before, too. It’s a river in Nile that you will eventually cross as well with a beaming smile.)

“How was class?”

Chanyeol stands before Kris and stares at him with this half-puzzled expression on his face. Isn’t that something boyfriends usually ask? The thing is, Chanyeol has gotten so used to these greetings that he’s almost starting to take them for granted. He shrugs, mind easily distracted by the piece of tied red string Kris is holding.

“The usual. Can I see that?” Chanyeol takes the red string while asking it, so it kind of defeats the whole purpose.

“Sure,” Kris says wryly.

Chanyeol tangles his fingers in it, and then untangles the loop. He chews his bottom lip, grin peeking out. Cat’s Cradle. It’s been such a long time since he’s played it. It feels so nostalgic to do this again. He holds up his symmetrical tangle of strings expectantly to Kris with both of his hands holding them taut. Kris lets out this low string of chuckles that settles heavily under Chanyeol’s bellybutton and reaches out to expertly maneuver the string into a different pattern. Chanyeol makes a ‘hmm’ sound because he doesn’t remember exactly how to go on from here.

He decides to screw it and tries to do something that would look remotely legit. Except his fingers get all tangled up and now the red string is all knotted up. Kris tugs from his end where his fingers are tangled as well and forces Chanyeol to step closer to him. Their chests bump.

“You know that there’s a Chinese legend? About a red thread that connects people who are fated to be together,” Kris says. He gives a wicked grin and his eyes reflect glints of gold that pulls Chanyeol in with the intense darkness of his irises. Is he going to lean in and kiss him? Chanyeol’s heart is thudding so hard against his chest that it’s painful and horribly exciting and he wants Kris to lean in just a little closer justalittle –

Chanyeol feels blind terror squeezing his ribs as he abruptly takes a step back, shaking the strangling hold of the red thread from his fingers.

“I’m hungry,” he says, covering up his discomfort with that smile that others deem the Happy Virus Smile. Not many people know how fake it often is. He catches a glimmer of disappointment in Kris’ eyes before he gives Chanyeol a wink.

“You can have me for lunch instead,” Kris says.

He gets smacked.

The first time that they met, Chanyeol was drunk from having too many cups of Sprite. He was skilled at feeling dizzy and uninhibited even without the help of alcohol. So, there he was, in the middle of this party that Sehun had invited him to and he went because he hadn’t really been to a college party before so why not? He probably had a glorified image of what a party was from chick flicks because everyone around him who was having fun was pretty much for-real-giggling-swaying-drunk.

And since he didn’t want a hangover the next morning (once was enough for now, thank you very much), he decided to pretend that he was drunk. His logic seemed quite reasonable at the time.

A little circle had formed around Sehun and his boyfriend as they jammed to the music. They were part of the competitive dance team in the university, and everyone seemed to be waiting for them to bust out a snazzy move and dazzle them. Chanyeol snickered at their flabbergasted expressions as all Sehun and Jongin did was wriggle their arms in a weirdly synchronized fashion and pigeon-bob their heads the whole time. Yeah, this was how they really danced outside of their ‘serious’ dancing.

Someone bumped into Chanyeol and jostled his arm, spilling the Sprite over his hand. He was also snapped back into ‘sober’ mode with the feel of sticky coldness of soda on his skin.

“Sourrrwwyyyy,” that person slurred and then tried to do a rendition of the Super Junior’s “Sorry, Sorry” dance.

Chanyeol didn’t know an ‘apology accepted’ dance, so he just nodded awkwardly and tried to shuffle away, but his arm was grabbed before he could escape.

“I’m LurrrHan. Whashh your name?” A too-pretty-to-be-human face beamed up at him.

“It’s Chanyeol.” He stared warily at ‘LurrrHan’. People who looked like this often turned out to be the serial killer in movies.

Or at least, in the movies he watched.

The other was contemplating the spilled Sprite on Chanyeol’s hand like there was a profound life quote written on it, before a maniacal smile stretched across his face. “Napkiieens. Napkins! Most wonderful invention~ in the world~”, which was followed by a drunk song cover of “I Can Show You the World” from Aladdin while spontaneously hugging Chanyeol.

Frankly, Chanyeol was scared for his life.

The tipsy singer was pulled back by the scruff of his neck and Chanyeol’s eyes widened to see someone taller than he was standing in front of him.

Not to mention the man looked like he just waltzed straight from a magazine cover.

“I apologize for Lu Han,” the blond man said. His eyebrows were set in an aggressively wild manner, and his nose looked like it was sculpted by a master artisan. His lips formed a tilted smile that could (and did) make people sizzle from the inside-out. It wasn’t just his physical looks; the way he stood commanded complete attention. Despite his slight slouching, his posture radiated confidence. Like he could take on the world and come out on top.

Chanyeol found that his molecules, down to the last atoms, had just completely frozen up at the sight of this gorgeous gorgeous man before realizing that he still needed to breathe to function. Still, he indulged in one last moment of hungry admiration before carefully and delicately placing the blond into the category of Out of His League.

“I’m Kris.” There was something inviting in his voice. Warm yet dark like rich dark chocolate. Chanyeol’s voice was stuck in his throat before he cleared it.

“Chanyeol.”

“Wuuuu Fannnnn. Stop eye-raping Chanyeolliieee here ‘cuz…” Lu Han broke the silence as he stumbled against Kris. His eyebrows scrunched together as he paused. “I had a point. But I forgot. Whatevurr. I feel like throwing up on your shoes.”

Kris had a look of such utter horror pasted on his face that Chanyeol started laughing and tried to disguise it as a cough. Kris gave a resigned sigh and proceeded to drag Lu Han to the bathroom.

“I’ll see you around?” Kris asked and Chanyeol nodded against his will because he didn’t like feeling this off-balanced. He was mostly rattled by the thought that even though Kris had only maybe said about three sentences to him, it would feel so easy to fall in love with him anyway. Alarms bells and sirens started ring through his head.

Well, the stalking didn’t begin until a few weeks later. Until after Lu Han had somehow found Chanyeol in the middle of a huge lecture.

“Oh haha, we’re in the same class! Hi Chanyeollie~ How are you doing?” Lu Han gave Chanyeol a bright holier-than-the-sun smile. He was talking to him like they were long-lost best friends.

“You remember me?” was the first thing that came from Chanyeol’s mouth.

“Of course. The one I spilled Sprite all over.” Lu Han tapped his head. “I can remember stuff from drunken escapades quite well, you know.”

Chanyeol gave him a tentative smile, just a little disconcerted about the fact that Lu Han seemed to be still crazy, drunk or not, just minus the slurring.

“Kris keeps asking about you.” Lu Han’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial whispering sort of level, like they were talking about CIA Top Secret files. “I think he wants your number.”

Chanyeol was startled into a body-shaking laugh. “No way,” he wheezed through his fit of laughter. “Ahh, you’re funny, Lu Han.”

Lu Han wrinkled his nose and pouted at the same time. “I’m completely serious. I’m always serious about stuff like this.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol said. He was still smiling.

“Okay? Like okay ‘I’ll give you my phone number’ okay?”

“Uhhh – Well, if he really does want it for whatever reason, I cannot fathom why he would, if he really does want it, he should ask me himself.” Chanyeol shrugged one shoulder.

“Gotcha.”

And that was the issue done and over with. Or at least, Chanyeol thought the whole thing was over except he was pretty much ambushed outside of the lecture hall the very next day.

“What,” Chanyeol said. “What.”

Kris had a quirked up smile and was staring at him through his bangs. “Your number?”

“I don’t – I – What.” His brain was not processing correctly.

“Lu Han told me I had to find you to ask you for it myself.” Speaking of the Devil, Lu Han winked at them before strutting off.

“So?” Kris was still standing there, which meant that he was probably not a figment of his imagination.

Well, it couldn’t hurt. Maybe Kris was just one of these people who liked to have lots of contacts in his cell or something. Chanyeol didn’t know. But it was highly unlikely that Kris was actually going to call him.

Kris actually called him.

In panic, Chanyeol canceled the call (the excuse was that he was doing his part-time job and talking on the phone while scooping up ice cream was not allowed even if Minseok did that all the time).

And then came the barrage of texts.

To summarize them, they were composed of random compliments like ‘I think your hair is very pretty’ and deep sayings from famous dead people like Confucius. All of them were decorated with glittery emoticons.

Then, as if the texts weren’t enough (he actually still has them saved in his phone but not because he actually looks forward to getting them and maybe sometimes looks at them when he’s bored – of course not), Kris somehow gained access to Chanyeol’s schedule and started to turn up everywhere. After it took him the time to process that Kris was actually chasing or in some strange way, courting Chanyeol, he couldn’t help but feel jittery from the attention because he had never been wanted like this before. It was exhilarating. Perhaps that was why he never truly pushed Kris away even though he could’ve.

There’s a neon green poster clutched in his hands. Chanyeol glances at it from time to time. It says that there’s an audition for a play that the theatre club is hosting, on a Tuesday afternoon. He hasn’t decided whether or not he should go yet – his high school teacher said he was good at acting once. He’s never been to an audition before (has never tried because the pressure of judges eyeing him would just make him walk right out without even trying).

He stuffs it into his backpack while walking, eyes already roaming around the campus square for a tall blond leaning against a bulletin board or something else. A pang of disappointment assaults him as there’s no Kris in sight. He slows down as he is confronted with the terrifying realization that even though he’s fought so hard against it, he’s already dependent on Kris. That it doesn’t feel like a good day without Kris there to give him a witty one-liner, a swaggering smirk, without Kris fitting into all the tiny spaces in his life.

At first, he was wary of Kris. Wary about how he could probably flick his finger and almost everyone would fall over swooning over him. Wary about how if he just handed his heart on a platter to him, he would watch it break apart under his hands.

No, it wasn’t about that anymore. Not as much. The person Chanyeol fears now the most is himself. He tends to analyze over the smallest detail, stressing over last week’s conversation and what kind of impression he gave. He is a perfectionist. Well, that’s the best way he could explain it, even though he likes to leave clothes all messy and strewn around in his room. No, he is a perfectionist in that if he starts on something, anything, whether it is a piece of shitty fanart or homework, he is never satisfied with them because the flaws always glare at him.

The prospect of failing – that’s what motivated him for most of his life, and he really really hates that feeling. Being with Kris just means another way for him to fear failing, fear them breaking up (because statistically most relationships don’t last anyway), except the fear is going to be even more paralyzing because (now he admits to himself, but not to anyone else. Not yet) he likes Kris. He really does.

But Kris makes him want to change. Makes him want to embrace change. He wants to be able to have a relationship with him, and even if it breaks and falls apart, he wants to be able to look back with no regrets in the end.

His hands are trembling slightly when he takes out the poster. Maybe he can start with this.

He didn’t get the part. None of the parts, actually (not even for the tree, sadly enough. He would’ve been an excellent tree). But he feels like he’s walking on air because he actually tried out. He summoned up courage (where have you been his whole life, Courage?) and walked straight into the room. Sure, there was a ball of static nervousness in his stomach but it felt cathartic at the same time. He actually did it.

Failing wasn’t so bad. After all, he’s not dead. (ooh, that rhymes!)

“Hey babe. Want a cookie?” Kris is holding up a bag of cookies, resting his other arm on the railing. There’s a small lake next to Chanyeol’s dorm, and the lights alongside the periphery of it are lit softly as dark blue shades are drawn up in the sky.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” Chanyeol asks while taking two chocolate chip cookies and biting scrumptiously into one.

“You look happy.”

“I am.” Chanyeol’s eyes disappear as he smiles. Surprisingly, there are no cheesy pick-up lines coming from Kris today. Maybe it’s the cookies.

Fall season is starting to blend into the chilling dry feel of winter. Chanyeol shifts closer to Kris for body warmth, for once allowing himself to. He feels the weight of Kris’ startled gaze while gazing out at the dark purple-green hues of the lake. After finishing the cookies, he peeks at Kris while taking more. Kris is no longer looking at him, but contently looking down at the rippling waters of the lake. Chanyeol’s glad because now he can observe Kris freely. Kris shifts a little, telling Chanyeol that he’s probably aware of his staring.

Chanyeol’s stomach is a big rolling mass of nerves. There’s that gripping feeling around his ribs again, that tells him that he wants to own this man’s everything. To be his everything in return. To mingle their scents together until they can’t tell whose is whose. And every other time he’s felt it, he had recoiled and his senses were soon tainted by a bitter hesitance because what he was thinking was dangerous. It could get himself hurt so badly that his psychological state would never recover from the potential damage. But he wanted to change, right?

He’s still staring when Kris turns to him and their gazes clash and meld together. He holds the contact, and not running away from this is easier than he thought. It’s actually more natural because it is the thing he’s wanted all along. Like last time, they’re so close that Chanyeol can measure the distance between them with a small ruler.

The bag of cookies drop to the floor as Kris winds his arms around Chanyeol’s waist. Chanyeol makes a strange squeaking kind of sound and instinctively tries to step away. He said he’s not going to run away this time, but that doesn’t mean they can be – this – close – this soon…! Kris just tightens his grip on Chanyeol.

“Nuh-uh. You’re not getting away,” Kris says, his smile challenging as his breaths collide with Chanyeol’s lips. Then he closes the gap.

The quality of the kiss is unexpectedly soft, despite the hard grip that Kris has on Chanyeol’s hips. Kris presses his lips to Chanyeol’s like he’s taste-testing a dish, brushing their mouths together and pulling away before connecting them again. It takes every fiber of Chanyeol’s will-power not to melt into a puddle of goo right then and there. Instead, his fingers find the silky strands of Kris’ hair and he pulls Kris towards him, tongue hungrily probing for more velvety hotness. His reaction catches them both off-guard, but Kris recovers quickly to open his mouth under Chanyeol’s insistent actions. His hand runs up his back in a deliberately slow fashion and Chanyeol shivers against Kris’ chest, trying to remember to breathe through his nose even though his brain is short-circuiting and frying at the same time.

Then, Kris seems to have given up on the concept of self-control, because he almost seems to be trying to eat Chanyeol whole with his mouth alone and Chanyeol oddly does not mind. He lets out strangled moans cut off in the back of his throat, and there are no fireworks going off in the back of his eyelids but there is wonderful heat coursing through his veins, adrenaline making his heartbeat race at the same pace as Kris’.

When they pull away, a thin string of saliva breaking between them as they move away, Chanyeol definitely feels drunk. Like he’s maybe had too many glasses of the finest wine there ever existed.

“Good night, baby.” Kris is chuckling a little at Chanyeol’s dazed expression. His fingers caress Chanyeol’s jaw line, leaving a trail of wildfire in their wake. “Keep the cookies.”

Chanyeol, sadly, has to donate the cookies to Jongdae in compensation for Sehun munching on his chips every time he is over there.

A red string dangles and swings from Chanyeol’s hand as he does his best not to skip on this fine, fine morning. Rays of sunlight light up his grin even more (Sehun would totally suspect that he had gotten laid last night if he saw him right now – and no, he didn’t get laid. But close).

His smile gets even wider when he spots a familiar set of broad shoulders walking out of a class.
“Hey,” he says. Kris looks at him, and his eyebrows reach his hairline in surprise. There is warmth in his eyes, though, that Chanyeol just wants to surround himself with like a comforting blanket.

“Baby.” Kris’ tone turns into a tinge of mischievous. “Are you stalking me?”

Chanyeol sniffs. “I just happened to be passing by.” No need to mention that he had to make several emergency calls and frantic texts to Lu Han last night to dig out information about Kris’ schedule to be able to ‘happen upon Kris leaving his class at the exact same time that he passes by’. He steps closer and takes one of Kris’ large hands (the ones that held him like he would never let go yesterday). Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows as he tangles the red thread around their hands together, forming a visible connection between them. Kris is staring at him like his heart might be slowly squeezing itself to death.

“How about you let me take you out on a date after class today? Instead of the other way around,” Chanyeol says, giving the string a tug so that they’re breathing the same air again.

Kris is tangling their hands together, carefully gauging Chanyeol’s expression. “Sounds perfect,” he says.
And Chanyeol lets himself relax and matches Kris’ bright smile.

(Months later, in one of the rare moments that Jongin and Chanyeol hang out without Sehun there, Jongin will tell Chanyeol that you seem different now.

And Chanyeol will say, How?

Jongin will give this little half-assed shrug. You’re more confident. Willing to try new things. Has Kris been rubbing off on you? And I didn’t mean that in the innuendo sort of way, ugh.

Chanyeol will laugh. You’re the one who first caught the pun.

Kris’ sister will say something similar to Chanyeol, except it’s the other way around. I think Kris has gotten calmer nowadays. More smiley, too. It’s really weird to see him like that, but I like you. You’re good for him.

Chanyeol will just accept the compliment and the usual pat on the head with a big smile, partly because he really likes the cookies that she bakes.)

Tears (and the art of mending)

flameflowerful — Mon, 28 Jan 2013 18:20:35 GMT

Short Krisyeol drabble that I didn't intend to write but somehow needed to. A little different from my usual style I think. Warning: angst.
Rated R.

Wu Fan liked fucking Chanyeol slowly and deeply. The way he threw his head back, gripping his shoulders painfully tight, it made him feel like he could own Chanyeol, could brand his name across his heart in a permanent tattoo.

Chanyeol was standing before him, shredding his heart into tatters.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with you!” Chanyeol screamedshoutedsobbed. And where nothing had fazed Wu Fan before, when he was fine maybe a little jealous but otherwise okay even when Chanyeol fucked other people, where nothing had affected him before, now every part of his body was throbbing with painpainpain. Chanyeol’s voice was hoarse with shouting and he looked tired from the tears, but they kept coming. And what could Wu Fan say? He should be so so happy because this was the first time that Chanyeol had said that he loved him but he knew Chanyeol hated it. Hated falling in love with him. And he looked so miserable saying it that Wu Fan hated himself.

Chanyeol dreamed of a fairy tale. He dreamed of falling in love with a man who would treat him like he was the only one he would ever see. He wanted sweet nothings, dates and cheesy sayings. He wanted the love that came out of Disney movies, the one true kiss, the prince charming.

Wu Fan was no prince charming.

He was abrasive and rash where he should be calm and loving. Chanyeol was the only one for him, but he sure didn’t treat him that way. They sniped at each other constantly, even when they had sex. They weren’t supposed to fall in love.

Wu Fan stood before Chanyeol, whose frame was still shaking. He couldn’t even take a step forward to hug and comfort the one he loved when he was hurting. Damn. Damn. He couldn’t change himself to be the man Chanyeol always wanted. And that made his insides bleed, made his own eyes sting and his hands were shaking.

Would he ever be able to show Chanyeol how much he loved him? How much he treasured their small moments together even when they were arguing? How much he wanted to be his prince charming and wipe his tears away? Even though he was standing like a fucking statue right now, watching helplessly as Chanyeol broke down right in front of him? What the fuck was wrong with him?

They had met during Uni. Wu Fan was the kind who had a different relationship every week, if it could be categorized as a relationship when it was just fucking. Chanyeol was standing in front of his dorm room like a gatekeeper, arms crossed and scowling straight at him. It wasn’t exactly love at first sight.

Wu Fan tried to step in, to get past Chanyeol. “Excuse me,” he said not-so-politely. Who did this guy think he was?

“If you’re looking for Baekhyun, he’s not here,” Chanyeol said, almost hissing.

“I know he’s in there, he told me to meet him here himself yesterday,” Wu Fan snapped back.

“I’m not letting you near him.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you fuck him and then leave him.” Chanyeol leaned back on the doorway, eyes flashing. “He’s the kind to fall in love with people who are not good for him.”

Wu Fan just raised an eyebrow. “It’s frankly none of your business.”

“It is if he’s my best friend.” Chanyeol scanned Wu Fan up and down, and his scowl turned into a slight smirk. “You look like you haven’t had sex in a decade. I’m feeling horny right now. You can fuck me instead.”

Wu Fan gave Chanyeol a look of open distain, at his baggy jeans and ugly sweater. “No thank you,” he said.

Chanyeol shrugged. “Your loss.”

They had a stare-off until Wu Fan huffed and walked (he did not stomp) away.

The next week, he was back. Chanyeol opened the door, hair clearly still messy from sleep.

“What do you want?” Chanyeol asked, hand running over his face.

“Is Baekhyun inside?” Wu Fan asked.

“No,” Chanyeol said slowly.

“And you’re not lying this time?”

“Why would I? He’s in Economics.”

“Good,” Wu Fan said, and then crashed his lips into Chanyeol’s. Clearly taken aback at the turn of events, Chanyeol tensed but then the rough texture of Wu Fan’s lips had him gripping his jacket and pulling him backward towards him.

They stumbled back into Chanyeol’s dorm, Chanyeol slamming the door in the process. When they pulled back from devouring each other, Chanyeol’s eyes were slitted with amusement and lust.

“Off,” he panted, tugging at Wu Fan’s jacket.

They fucked. It was fast and frantic, like the Armageddon was coming the next day.

The next week on the same time same place, Wu Fan came back for more when he had never done that for anyone else. There was something about the hitched moans of Chanyeol’s and the way his skin felt against his that got him hooked. They found that they had stuff in common, that maybe they could be friends with benefits on the side. It worked well for them, where they would stop playing with each other when a real relationship came every once in awhile.

And one day, Wu Fan just stood up from their bed, stared at Chanyeol a little more intensely than usual and said, “I love you.” Chanyeol had stared back with wide eyes and almost freaked out there, but then Wu Fan gave one half-shrug with his right shoulder and told him that nothing would change and that he was fine with nothing changing.

Chanyeol hadn’t expected to reciprocate that love.

And fuck it, he really did love Wu Fan. A little too much for his own good, because Wu Fan wasn’t good for him. Wasn’t good for his heart when some girl leaned too close to Wu Fan and Wu Fan smirked back at her. Wasn’t good for him at all.

He had meant it when he said that he didn’t want to fall in love with Wu Fan, because it had only seemed to eventually bring heartbreak with it, because that was what Wu Fan did. He left trails of broken hearts.

Then one day, weeks after his outburst and utterly humiliating crying episode, Wu Fan had slammed him against the refrigerator. His eyes were brimmed with pain, and Chanyeol’s breath hitched because he had never noticed Wu Fan was hurting and that he might’ve been hurting for the longest time. He had never noticed.

They had been fighting over who was supposed to buy the milk and then Wu Fan had lost it. “Why couldn’t you have fallen in love with someone else? Why the fuck did you have to choose me? You’re not happy with me, I can tell, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m not the one you wanted.” And then a tear slipped down Wu Fan’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

And then Chanyeol was pulling Wu Fan into a harsh kiss, an actual kiss this time and they so rarely kissed. They usually made out, maybe, lips mishmashing together with only the selfishness that came with lust. But here Chanyeol was pressing their lips together, trying to tell Wu Fan with unspoken words that he needed Wu Fan and why couldn’t he see that? They were both so damn blind.

Maybe they could start from here, together. Maybe all Wu Fan needed to see was that maybe Chanyeol felt upsettingly happy with Wu Fan. Even though maybe he didn’t always show it. Maybe they might work out.

Wu Fan gripped Chanyeol’s hips and pressed them closer together. Chanyeol’s fingers tangled into his hair.

Maybe.

Molten Wax [3/3]

flameflowerful — Sun, 27 Jan 2013 07:42:55 GMT

One week later, Yifan was looking in disgust at the price tags of the sweaters around him. Somehow, Chanyeol had convinced him to go shopping with him to find a present for his friend, Kyungsoo, since his birthday was coming up soon. All Yifan remembered about him was that he had eyes that looked like they could dig up his deepest, darkest secrets with one glance.

“Excuse me, do you need assistance?” A carefully groomed employee asked, biting her lips a little as she smiled at him.

“No thank you,” he said.

“Are you sure? Are you looking for something in particular?” The coy way she phrased it made sound like she was saying like me in response to her own question.

“Um,” he said, not used to how forward she was.

“He’s not,” a cool voice cut in. Chanyeol’s gaze was chilly as he put his hand on the back of Yifan’s elbow. “Now if you’ll excuse us. Everything in this store is too expensive anyway.”

The woman deflated a little and she pursed her lips. As they walked away, Chanyeol’s grip still firm, Yifan heard her mutter under her breath that contained the words all the good ones and taken.

Bewildered, Yifan instinctively followed Chanyeol’s brisk steps. He wasn’t blind. Chanyeol’s spine was rigid with possessiveness, and even the way his fingers were curled around his elbow made them seem like lovers to outsiders. Once they walked a certain distance from the store, Yifan dug his heels in, stopping Chanyeol as well.

“What - ” was that was what he wanted to say, but then Chanyeol turned to him with a bright grin.

“Let’s get lunch. I’m hungry,” he said. “Didn’t you always want to go to that place with the piglet on the front window?”

Yifan let it go, partly because there was an almost desperate tone in Chanyeol’s voice. “It’s a boar, not a piglet.”

“Potato, po-TA-to.” His hand was still there, and Yifan was all too aware of it. He swallowed, but pretended like his heart wasn’t threatening to pound through his chest.

“Come on, it’s that way. We’re walking in the opposite direction.”

“Oh.”

A group of teenage girls gave them a side-glance and giggled to each other. “They’re so cute together,” one of them whispered, and Yifan heard her anyway because dragon hearing or whatever.

Delusional girls. He still couldn’t help the helplessly smitten look from entering his eyes though as Chanyeol went on about some other stores they could check out after lunch. He was probably the most delusional of them all.

“How is it?” Yifan leaned back on the kitchen counter as he watched Chanyeol’s reaction carefully.

“Really good.” Chanyeol’s tongue swiped out to lick away some of the sauce around his mouth. The room suddenly felt a little warmer than before. “Is this seriously your first time making pasta?”

“Yup. I’m a genius,” Yifan said, tasting the sauce, and then putting in a little more salt before turning off the fire.

“Yifan…” Chanyeol, all of a sudden, sounded so lost that he immediately turned to him. He saw the phoenix standing dejectedly, eyes hooded.

“What?” He breathed.

“I don’t want to but,” here Chanyeol took a quick inhale, almost like a hiccup, “I think I’m going to have to break up with Baekhyun.”

Unable to move a muscle, Yifan asked, “Why?”

“When he told me that he loved me, I couldn’t say it back.”

Yifan took a step closer. “That’s not any reason to break off a relationship, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol’s eyes darted around the room, and he shook his head. “No, that’s not it – I – ”

“What?” He asked quietly. Chanyeol looked up and met his eyes. Yifan almost froze because his eyes were frightened.

“I – ” Here the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. Then he looked back down onto the floor, and sighed. “This is going to hurt him so much.”

Frustrated, but not wanting to push Chanyeol any further, Yifan wordlessly pulled him into his embrace. Chanyeol’s arms tightened around him and Yifan could feel him deeply inhaling against his shirt.

There was a fast staccato rhythm against his ribs, and Yifan wasn’t sure if it was his heartbeat or Chanyeol’s.

The week after Chanyeol and Baekhyun broke up, Chanyeol seemed almost subdued. Sometimes Yifan caught him glancing at him with melancholy rimmed around his eyes. Not sure what was wrong, but needing to see Chanyeol’s one-eyed smiles, Yifan did his best to distract him. That seemed to work, because soon enough, they were back to the way things were.

Or close to how they were, Yifan amended, because Chanyeol was clinging onto him even more. What really drove him crazy was when Yifan tried to initiate contact with him and Chanyeol would jolt away a little to avoid it.

New Year’s was approaching, and they had a tradition of eating duck noodle soup on the last day of the year. Chanyeol blew on the surface of the liquid and the steam flew into Yifan’s face. He didn’t dare do the same thing because there were random times where flicks of flame came out of his mouth when he exhaled. Lighting soup on fire was never a good idea.

Yifan picked up the duck meat with his chopsticks and stared at it, as if he was trying to intimidate it into cooling. Chanyeol hid a chortle behind his hand at the sight. Mock-glaring at him, Yifan took his first bite and chewed, wincing a little when little pieces of duck bone got stuck in his teeth.

Chanyeol liked to make slurping noises when he ate noodles, and Yifan found that it was an almost reassuring sound to him now. Like background noise, in a way. Lifting his head up, Chanyeol tilted his head sideways in a questioning manner at Yifan’s look.

“You eat with your face,” Yifan commented, reaching for a napkin to wipe some soup from Chanyeol’s face. Their eyes made contact, and Chanyeol was still when Yifan gently cleaned the corner of his mouth. There must’ve been some kind of strange expression on Yifan’s face, or something in his eyes that made Chanyeol’s eyes widen a little as if he had gotten an epiphany and a tiny oh escaped his mouth like a sigh.

Yifan blinked in confusion. There was a light in the phoenix’s eyes as he kept staring at Yifan, looking like he had just been hypnotized and zapped by lightening at the same time. Before Yifan could ask, Chanyeol broke their eye contact and continued on slurping the noodles.

That incident went unexplained until a month passed. Yifan was a little unnerved whenever he looked up those past few days to see Chanyeol looking right back at him. He was still doing that when they were walking in the park close to their apartment, the snow crunching under their shoes.

Yifan sat down on the closest bench after wiping away the snow with his gloved hand. He settled down with a sigh of relief. The tree branches around them were drooping under the weight of the snow, and not many people were out and about like they were. Chanyeol, after making fresh footprints on the snow, sat down next to him.

“I wonder why we feel the cold even though we’re supposed to be fire creatures,” Chanyeol said, huddling close to Yifan.

“Probably because we’re more human than anything,” Yifan said. Chanyeol was pulling Yifan’s glove off on his left hand. He traced the lines on Yifan’s palm, looking fascinated.

“Your hands are always warm, though,” Chanyeol said, and then looked up. Yifan had been looking straight at Chanyeol’s face, and he had been caught in the act. He held his breath as their gazes tangled together.

“I can’t believe I never noticed before,” Chanyeol said, and then rapidly blinked, which indicated that he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Huh?” Yifan’s condensed breath came out to be a white cloud in the cold air, and mixed with Chanyeol’s breath.

“That you were always looking at me.” Yifan’s hand tensed. “And only at me.” Chanyeol’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked back down on their hands. He continued: “And whenever I needed you, you were there.” He fit their fingers together so that they intertwined.

Yifan’s heart had jumped so high it was in his throat. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t say a word.

“How long, Yifan?” Chanyeol had looked back up, and he pulled them closer using their connected hands. “How long since you – ?”

“I think it was ever since we built our first snowwoman together,” Yifan said. He gave a shaky laugh, never looking away from Chanyeol’s flame-lit eyes. “Maybe even before that.”

At that, Chanyeol’s breath openly hitched, and he closed the distance between them. Yifan closed his eyes, gasping against Chanyeol’s lips before wrapping his arms around Chanyeol’s waist to pull him flush against his body. Chanyeol tasted like the blueberry muffins he ate for breakfast, and underneath that was a layer of flavor that was distinctly Chanyeol. It was a kiss that lasted for only two seconds, simple and chaste, and yet Yifan felt his whole body shaking from the heat and electric currents running through his veins.

That was it. No cheesy confessions. Just Chanyeol pulling away, eyes a little dark with desire and something that Yifan saw in his own eyes sometimes when he looked into the mirror. Something like love. Silently, they sat side by side, regaining their oxygen and hands tightly clasped together.

When they were walking home, hands slightly swinging in the air between them, Chanyeol turned to him with an eye-smile and said, “Yifan? You know that I’m always going to need you, right?”

Stomach still jittery with nerves, he said, “Yeah.” He had never felt so comfortably warm before.

Yifan paused for a moment to trace his eyes over Chanyeol’s profile, before joining him on the couch. The TV was playing Shinhwa Broadcast, and Eric was doing some kind of weird dance with a wig on. Chanyeol, without taking his eyes off the screen, shifted closer to Yifan. Yifan wrapped himself around Chanyeol so that they molded together in all the right places. Chanyeol gave a little sigh of content, and put his head back on Yifan’s shoulder with familiarity.

“Do you want to go on a date?” Yifan asked. Chanyeol’s laughter vibrated against his chest.

“But we’ve been on plenty of dates already, Yifan.”

“None of them were official dates,” he argued. Chanyeol gave him an amused little grin, before pecking his mouth. Yifan leant in for more, and Chanyeol obliged with several longer, toe-curling kisses.

“Fine. I’ll let you take me out to an expensive restaurant. And you’ll open the door of our crappy convertible like the gentleman you are and then you’ll ask for the reservation that you made in the restaurant. And then we’ll sit down and you’ll stare in horror at the prices and we’ll end up eating at a hot dogs stand in the end anyway.”

Yifan couldn’t help himself from smiling, mouth stretched from mirth. The amount of pure adoration he held for this man curled up against him was going to explode out of him at this rate. “Sounds like our type of date.”

“Mhm.” Chanyeol’s head lolled sideways as Yifan pressed open-mouthed kisses onto his neck. “You’re distracting me from Shinhwa.”

“Mission accomplished,” Yifan said, and then held Chanyeol closer to him.

“Oh yeah,” Chanyeol murmured. “Lu Han called earlier today. Right before I was going to leave for work.”

Yifan paused. “What did he say?”

“He and Minseok got engaged.”

“About time.”

Chanyeol put his hand over Yifan’s. “That’s what I said. We’re invited to the wedding. You’re the best man.”

Yifan groaned, head tipping forward on Chanyeol’s shoulder. “He’s going to make me go through hell, asking me which color goes best with which kind of flower and gah. I bet he wants there to be flying koi fish floating around the reception, too.”

“I can imagine that.” Chanyeol twisted out of Yifan’s grasp and rested his knees on the sides of Yifan’s legs. He planted his hands on both sides of Yifan’s head and grinned, a sly glint in his eyes. “What about for our wedding?”

It was said with a tint of humor, like he was joking, but Chanyeol’s eyes were serious. Yifan’s adrenalin sky-rocketed above the roof. He put his hands on Chanyeol’s hips and said, “I haven’t even proposed yet.”

“You don’t need to,” Chanyeol said. “There better be lots of cake at our reception.”

“Okay,” he said, and pulled Chanyeol down and kissed the living daylights out of him.

Yifan wasn’t sure how they got to this point. He had a flushed Chanyeol on his bed, chest heaving from their heavy make-out session. Yifan had not been home for four days because he was sent to another city by his company. The moment he got home, Chanyeol was on top of him, body shaking from need and want. Resistance had been futile, and Yifan had been waiting way too long for this anyway.

He pulled Chanyeol’s shirt up to his chest, leaning in to skim his lips against Chanyeol’s stomach. Chanyeol was watching him with half-lidded eyes and his stomach tensed when he breathed on it. Flickers of flame were dancing on Chanyeol’s exposed skin and embraced the fire exhaled through Yifan’s mouth.

“Yifan,” Chanyeol said, a yearning in his voice. He dragged his hand through Yifan’s hair roughly, and then grabbed the back of his neck to pull their lips together hungrily.

Nipping on Chanyeol’s bottom lip, Yifan realized that he was never going to get enough of him. A surprised moan emerged from Chanyeol’s mouth when their hard cocks rubbed against each other. Yifan shakily breathed in and froze.

“No.” Chanyeol’s hand clenched on Yifan’s shirt. He looked sinfully sensuous. “Don’t stop. Please.”

His control, which was thin before, stretched and snapped. He gave Chanyeol’s collarbone a gentle kiss and then helped him to sit up. All of his attention was focused on getting that goddamn shirt off Chanyeol, and the phoenix realized that and helped him in tugging it over his head. Chanyeol growled, trying to tug Yifan’s shirt off but set it on fire instead. They both watched it disintegrate into ashes.

“Well,” Chanyeol said, quirking up the edges of his mouth, “That take cares of it.”

“Good thing I didn’t like that shirt,” Yifan said. Chanyeol had taken advantage of his shirtless state to run his hands reverently up and down his sides. Yifan let out a groan, and then grabbed Chanyeol’s hands, eyes dark. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Chanyeol said. He leaned forward, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth teasingly. “I achieved my purpose.”

Yifan latched his mouth onto Chanyeol’s right nipple and was awarded with a yelp. He grinned up devilishly, and then grazed his hand over Chanyeol’s belt. Chanyeol encouraged him with a jerk of his hips, and Yifan pulled the zipper down.

“Have you - ?” Yifan asked. Chanyeol wound his hand into Yifan’s hair and shook his head.

“Never that far.”

Then a moment later, they were both divested of their jeans, legs twined together. They were pressed against each other like they were each other’s oxygen supply. The dragon inside Yifan purred in pleasure, and he swore that the phoenix in Chanyeol responded with a satisfied trill. Yifan leaned down and left teeth marks on the bottom of Chanyeol’s neck, dragging his tongue across the hickey after. Chanyeol’s breathless laughter shook them both.

“Possessive much?” Chanyeol asked. Yifan gave him a smirk, and pressed their lips together. He broke away to open the bottom drawer next to his (well, more like theirs now that Chanyeol usually slept next to him every night because apparently his mattress was more comfortable. Or so Chanyeol claimed) bed and took out a bottle of lube and condoms.

“You’re prepared. I approve,” Chanyeol said. Yifan pressed three fingers against his lips and Chanyeol instinctively opened his mouth. Yifan closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the sensation of Chanyeol’s tongue dancing and coating saliva onto his fingers. He pulled them out, and Chanyeol gave him a cute little pout at the loss of contact and Yifan leant in to heatedly kiss him again. His arms were almost shaking with the effort of holding himself up already. Chanyeol’s back arched when Yifan’s fingertips circled his anus.

“Relax,” he murmured before pushing one finger in. Chanyeol gasped at the sensation before wriggling on his finger. “Ugh. Who does that?”

Chanyeol’s teeth showed in his laughter, but he looked nervous still. “More, Yifan.”

Complying, Yifan slowly put two more in one by one. Chanyeol’s arms were squeezing the nape of his neck. Yifan kissed his nose, which wrinkled at the affectionate peck and he could already see the you’re so cheesy Yifan in Chanyeol’s eyes, before continuing. He made scissoring motions with his hands, nerves catching up to him now that the realization that they were finally doing it for the first time. He had no experience in this field, and he was only following what the informational books told him and what if he was doing this wrong? The thought made him almost hyperventilate.

Chanyeol gazed up at him and said, “I think you should relax, too.”

Yifan breathily laughed. “How do you feel?”

Chanyeol’s forehead scrunched up as he thought. “It feels really weird. But not in a bad way. And – huhnnghh!”

His body jolted when Yifan experimentally pushed his fingers inwards more forcefully.

“Good? Bad?” He asked worriedly.

“Good,” Chanyeol gasped. “Definitely good.”

Yifan licked his own lips before pulling his fingers out. Chanyeol exhaled at the loss, and his pupils were dilated with want.

“I’ll help you with that,” Chanyeol said, picking up the condoms and carefully ripping open the package. His eyebrows were scrunched together as he took the protection and tried to put it on Yifan’s erect cock. Yifan helped guide his lover’s shaky hands, trying to keep his eyes from rolling back at the sensation of Chanyeol’s hands brushing against his dick.

He poured liberal amounts of lube on it, and then clenched his teeth as he slowly pushed into Chanyeol. His body was trembling because Chanyeol around him felt so mind-numbingly amazing. Chanyeol’s breath was coming in short, like he had just ran a marathon, and he clenched around Yifan. He almost came right there.

Instinct took over as he moved, trying to take his time as he pulled out a little and then thrusting in. Chanyeol’s hair surrounded him like a halo as he jerked with Yifan’s movements. Their mouths crashed together, frantic, and Chanyeol desperately swallowed the flames licking out from Yifan’s breaths. He was making sounds without meaning to, little moans and then a holy fuck when Yifan pressed against his prostate. Shuddering at the delicious sight of Chanyeol utterly debauched on his sheets, he moved faster, feeling like he was going to burn up from the flames enveloping them and the molten lava boiling in his blood. There was so much pleasure it was almost painful, and Chanyeol was half-sobbing from the over-stimulation.

When Chanyeol was approaching his peak, he grabbed Yifan’s hand and intertwined their fingers. With the other, he jerked himself off. He tipped his head back as his orgasm made his whole body tremble, and Yifan came from that after giving one exhausted last thrust. They lied with Yifan on top and still inside Chanyeol for a good minute or two before Yifan summoned up the energy to pull back out. He winced when he noticed the stickiness clinging to their skins and the mess they left behind.

“I think we need to buy fireproof sheets,” Chanyeol said with a curled up smile. His eyes reflected complete contentment and a glow almost shone out of them. Yifan looked down, and couldn’t even be bothered to care that his soft cotton sheets were mostly half-burnt. The fire that they had ignited was dissipating into air like it was never there in the first place.

“Shower first,” Yifan said, trying to get up, and ending up flopping face-first onto the pillow. “Never mind. I need some time to recover.”

“So do I.” Chanyeol, with some difficulty, turned and splayed his arm over Yifan’s waist. “By the way, I get to top next time.”

“You’re already thinking about next time? Haven’t gotten enough?” Yifan moved his head sideways so that he was looking directly into Chanyeol’s eyes, which were giving off mischievous sparks.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” Chanyeol said, and then paused. “Oh gods, after sex is making me cheesy like you.”

Yifan lightly laughed and deposited a butterfly kiss against Chanyeol’s lips. “Cheesy is good. I like cheese.”

Now Chanyeol rubbed his head against Yifan’s chest, complaining, “Now you’re making me hungry.” Yifan was still laughing.

The full moon that night was particularly bright. The moonlight against Chanyeol’s face accentuated his eyelashes, and Yifan pressed his lips against Chanyeol’s just because he could. Chanyeol leaned into him, gazing right into his soul, eyes wild. The addicting smell of molten wax that always followed Chanyeol around enveloped both of them. All Yifan could think was what did I do to deserve you? His phoenix gave him a brilliant smile.

“Let’s fly,” Chanyeol said. Yifan already felt like he was soaring in the air whenever he was by his phoenix’s side, but he just held Chanyeol’s face with one hand and rubbed his thumb against his cheek like he did years ago.

“Let’s,” Yifan agreed.

Molten Wax [2/3]

flameflowerful — Sun, 27 Jan 2013 07:40:51 GMT

“Home sweet home,” Chanyeol mused as Yifan set another box filled with what felt like heavy bricks next to the door.

“What do you have in there?” Yifan groaned as he nursed his aching back. Chanyeol’s laughter was muffled behind his scarf, but the corners of his eyes wrinkled in amusement. He moved to rub soothing circles on Yifan’s back. Even through the thick jacket, Yifan could feel heat coursing from his fingertips into his skin.

“My old manga books, of course,” Chanyeol said. Yifan leaned closer to his touch.

“I thought you outgrew these.”

“Never!” Chanyeol looked so appropriately appalled that Yifan let out a tired chuckle.

“No wonder they’re so heavy.”

Chanyeol’s tongue was sticking out slightly as he pounded Yifan’s back with fists. Yifan tilted his neck, and Chanyeol went for his usual sore spot.

“Thank you for carrying these for me, my new roommate,” Chanyeol said, grinning.

“You’re an adult and still reading manga,” Yifan sighed, shaking his head.

“You sound like an old man.”

“I feel like one.” Yifan suppressed a moan when Chanyeol rubbed at the knot that had been bothering him the past couple of days at work.

“I like the apartment we picked. Our neighbors are friendly.”

“Mhm.” Yifan took Chanyeol’s heaven-sent hands away reluctantly. “I still have three more boxes to go.”

“Can I help?”

Yifan sent him a raised eyebrow. “You almost set our TV set on fire the last time you tried to.”

Chanyeol stuck his bottom lip out, and Yifan would usually smack anyone for pouting at him, but Chanyeol was a special exception. He was always a special exception. “Augh, fine. I just got a little excited last time. How about I make banana strawberry smoothie as a reward for all your hard work?”

“Sounds good.” He stepped out into the hallway. Before he could press the down button on the elevator (operated by stones stored with power which most technology ran on), two familiar figures stepped out of the middle one and tackled him.

“What - ?” Yifan almost toppled over backwards from the weight of two people leaping on him.

“Yifan! Long time no see,” Yixing said. Lu Han was too busy squeezing the life essence from Yifan to say anything at the moment.

“Guys… I need to breathe,” Yifan said. Yixing let go, but Lu Han had to pick him up (with the help of some of his telekinetic-trained ability) and twirl him around a few times before setting him back down.

“We’re here for your housewarming party,” Lu Han said while beaming, thrusting into Yifan’s hands a cactus (where the fuck did that come from?) and then prancing into his new apartment.

Yifan and Yixing followed behind, with Yifan at a loss on what to do with a potted cactus in his hands. Chanyeol was immediately tackled with a hug from Lu Han.

“It hasn’t been that long,” Yifan said to Yixing. Yixing gave him a dimpled smile.

“A few months because we were busy with all of our respective jobs, and now with you moving in with Chanyeol? That’s been, like, a century in our books,” Yixing said. “We’ve been keeping in contact pretty well with each other actually, considering the fact that we graduated five years ago.”

Chanyeol, who only caught the last parts of the sentence, shouted, “See, Yifan, you really are an old man!”

Yifan gave a small growl and mussed up Chanyeol’s hair with his hands. “If I’m old, then you are too.”

In response, Chanyeol just stuck out his tongue.

Lu Han was clutching his stomach, body convulsing from laughter. “Oh gods, you guys are so childish when you’re with each other.”

“Chanyeol’s always childish,” Yifan said, ignoring the indignant “am not!” from the other.

“Well,” Yixing interrupted them from continuing what was sure to be an argument. “I brought something actually useful for you guys, unlike Lu Han’s gift.”

“It’s a magical cactus!”

“How?” Yifan asked, looking at the cactus warily in case it started to dance.

There was a pause, and then Lu Han shrugged. “That’s what the storeowner said, anyway.”

“You’re scammed so easily,” Yifan said.

“Anyway,” Yixing cut in loudly, looking all puffed up about his thunder being stolen from Lu Han. “Here.”

Yifan stared at the package in his hands, which was some kind of red curtain, as far as the label on it indicated. “This isn’t magical, too, right?”

“No.” Yixing glared at Lu Han, and then opened up the package. “See? A curtain for the living room! It’s red. You know, like fire.”

“Aahh.” Chanyeol was nodding like the secret of life had just been revealed. He gave a small Cheshire grin at Yifan. “Our element.”

His mouth was suddenly dry. “Yeah.” He licked his crackling lips, eyes skittering away from Chanyeol’s. “Let’s hang it up now, to see if it really blocks out light.”

“I do not buy defective curtains!” Yixing defended.

“We shall see,” Yifan said, moving towards the windows. There were hooks on the top left from the past resident, and he reached up to connect them to their new curtain. The burnt wax smell told him that Chanyeol was standing right beside him, putting the other side of the curtain up. The walls of the room turned into a moody dark red from the curtains, and Yifan stepped back to admire the ambience.

“I like it,” Chanyeol said, eyes reflecting sparks of light as he turned to Yifan. Yixing, in the background, was boasting about how his present was a lot more practical than Lu Han’s weird cactus.

“Yeah,” Yifan breathed, and this was another one of these moments where he had to hold back from leaning in even further. Chanyeol seemed to have no qualms about that as he curled his hand around Yifan’s elbow, erasing the space in between them. Yifan had to close his eyes for a few seconds, and opened them once his heart rate settled down a little. His roommate (he felt so used to that terminology already) seemed to take the meaning of being in close contact as literal close contact. If Yifan was standing near him, Chanyeol would turn and latch onto him somehow. A brush of fingers when they walked side by side. His chin on Yifan’s raised leg when they watched a movie on the sofa.

Frankly, Yifan wasn’t sure how long he could handle the close proximity any longer. But they both felt better, relieved almost, after a few seconds of being next to each other. He couldn’t deny that. They really did replenish energy from each other. The problem was that only he was counting the seconds that they touched, hungry for a second smile and always, always, trying to stop himself from asking for more.

It always made his breath stutter, when Chanyeol brushed a little too close to him. It made his blood pound through his chest and he would freeze. He didn’t even know what that kind of ache in his chest should be labeled as. It just felt inexplicably good in such a painful way. All he knew was that he felt it every time Chanyeol was methodically raking his hand through his hair, in the process of picking out random pieces of dandruff from Yifan’s hair. Usually, Yifan would be sitting on the sofa, trying to read the newspaper. Chanyeol would plop down behind him and started to tug on random parts of his hair, and he was never able to read more than a sentence. He didn’t dare move an inch, feeling each nerves respond as the phoenix’s fingernails made themselves felt on his scalp. Yifan just closed his eyes and grabbed at every single strand of that ache, wishing that the teeth-achingly painful warmth would stay and spread across his stomach, around his body and outwards and cling to his skin forever. Chanyeol, those times, wouldn’t say anything and Yifan was glad because he didn’t know if he can utter a single word back with the sensation of Chanyeol leaving his tangible scent on his hair.

They would go into the rural outskirts of the city whenever the full moon hung on the sky, taking sick days from work. Chanyeol sat in the driver’s seat, lanky arms hanging on the wheel and head bobbing to the radio. Yifan sat next to him, lounging with the wind rushing through his hair. They had a crappy convertible that creaked and rumbled whenever it started up, but it served its purpose. Yifan offered to drive once, and Chanyeol immediately said no because “your driving is shit, Yifan.” So he just sat on the side, occasionally playing with the radio dials to annoy the other on purpose.

That night, traffic was good. Not many people were rushing out of the city, and there was an eager glint in Chanyeol’s eyes, which Yifan understood. They were in the mood to be stretching their wings. BIGBANG blasted out of the speakers, and he watched in amusement as Chanyeol chanted along with G-Dragon about being still alive. He was rewarded with a quirky grin, and he bit down on his own smile before following up with Taeyang’s part. Chanyeol gave him a thumbs-up, humming along because the lyrics were too fast for him to follow.

“We’re here,” Yifan said over Daesung’s powerful vocals.

“So we are,” Chanyeol said, carelessly parking on the side of the country road.

Stretched out before them was a grassy field spotted with yellow patches where the cows usually grazed. And right above that was the dark sky splattered with stars like shiny studs, surrounding the ever-watchful moon. Yifan pushed open the car door, wrestling with the stubborn handle. Standing, he stretched, shoulder muscles sore from the trip. Chanyeol had jumped over the car door without bothering to open it, and was already tossing his jacket into his seat. Yifan followed suit, skin already jittery from the effort of reining his dragon in. He made the mistake of looking sideways where Chanyeol had already shrugged off his long sleeved shirt. Jogging every week had done wonders to shape the outlines of muscles on him.

Yifan felt that familiar thick taste of lust fill his mouth, although in these recent years, another flavor followed it. It was a bittersweet kind of flavor, one that whispered I could show you forever if only you’d let me.

Tearing his eyes away again, Yifan tried to get back to the routine. Arm hairs standing up from the sudden exposure to the outside, he squeezed his eyes shut and felt his human skin harden and shift into scales.

Dragon irises, resembling that of a cat, opened and scanned the area. A magnificent fire-bird dragging tail plumes was already beside him, shifting from place to place impatiently. The dragon gave him a soft growl, and the phoenix stared at him before brushing his head against his neck, and then flapped away. Bunching his shoulder and wing muscles up, Yifan followed, adrenalin rushing through him as he took to air.

They flew like twin jet planes giving an air show, twisting in flight in synchronization. A bright trail of sparks marked their progress, and Yifan looked down to see some locals looking up in awe. They often came and camped outside like tourists watching fireworks. Chanyeol screeched and made a dive before pulling back up. Yifan shook his head mentally. Show-off.

He really hated spring. Either that, or that season had a personal grudge against him or something. Because there the season was again as Chanyeol stared steadily at him over the dining table, then into his bowl of rice, and then back up before Yifan finally set his chopsticks down.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

A startled expression crossed Chanyeol’s face before he licked his lips in an anxious manner. A strand of Yifan’s mind was occupied with what they might taste like while the rest of his brain was trying to figure out what his roommate had been trying to say the past few days. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he had something to tell him, because Chanyeol had been sometimes hovering around Yifan before walking away, and then hovering again. It was a little fraying on Yifan’s nerves.

“I’m not going to be here on Saturday,” Chanyeol said. He stuffed pork ribs into his mouth and chewed. Probably to stop himself from saying anymore. Yifan, however, was a patient soul.

Several minutes passed, though, before that patience ran dry. “And?”

Chanyeol looked up, blinked, and a layer of pink stole across his cheeks. Yifan stared incredulously because Chanyeol rarely blushed.

“Ah,” Chanyeol said. “I kind of have a date.”

Unfortunately, Yifan had just shoveled a mouthful of rice into his mouth, and promptly choked on it. The younger stood up in panic and patted Yifan’s back as he hacked and coughed his guts out.

After gulping down his tea, Yifan coughed lightly a few more times before staring at Chanyeol. “A date.”

Chanyeol nodded, looking relieved that Yifan was still alive and breathing. “Mhm. I met him at Jongin’s birthday party. He’s really nice.”

The last part was said with a small smile, and Yifan’s chest hurt. He could fool himself into believing that was because he had just choked on food, but what was the point?

“That’s. Good.” Tendrils of that ache were coming back, wrapping like tentacles around his heart.

Chanyeol, who couldn’t see the tentacles squeezing Yifan’s chest, looked happy that Yifan was okay with the whole dating thing. “His name’s Byun Baekhyun, and apparently he can sing really well. His specialty is controlling the trajectory of light or something like that.”

“Ah.” His stomach was curling up in itself, and he took a sip of his tea. He wasn’t sure if he could keep on eating.

Chanyeol just looked like a huge boulder was off his back, and he began to tell the synopsis of a movie he watched the other day while inhaling the food at the same time. Yifan watched him act out a scene with hand gestures, and wondered if Byun Baekhyun could make him smile like that, too.

After Chanyeol came home from his third date, he hung up his jacket and said, “I want you to meet him, Yifan.”

“Who am I, your parent?” Yifan joked. Chanyeol gave him a serious look and shook his head.

“No, but I want him to meet all the important people in my life,” he said.

At this, Yifan smiled, disguising the tangy flavor of heartbreak. Breathe in. Breathe out. “Bring him over anytime.”

The other beamed and padded over to hug him. Yifan didn’t hug back, because he feared that if he did, he wouldn’t ever let go.

Baekhyun was nice, even if he looked a little intimidated by Yifan’s height (and maybe his eyebrows, too). He showed his teeth in a shaky smile as they shook hands.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Baekhyun said.

“Likewise,” Yifan lied. He was trying to look everywhere except Chanyeol’s hand on Baekhyun’s hip. Actually, not looking at Chanyeol at all was probably a good idea. Staring adoringly at someone else’s boyfriend would surely create alarm bells in Baekhyun’s mind.

“We’re going out to dinner later,” Chanyeol said. “He knows about the whole bonding thing, by the way.”

“You’re okay with it?” Yifan asked.

Baekhyun nodded hesitantly. “It sounds a little weird, but… ” And the soft look he gave Chanyeol answered everything. Yifan was unable to look away before Chanyeol returned the look with an affectionate smile. They looked like they fit perfectly with each other.

Yifan tried to school his face into a neutral expression.

“Have fun at dinner,” he said as he showed the couple out.

Chanyeol looked up, breaking eye contact with his boyfriend. “And you?” He asked, falling back into old habits as he tugged on Yifan’s too-long-for-his-arms-sleeves. He couldn’t help from his breath hitching a little, but was glad that Baekhyun was a little too distracted staring at the cactus on their windowsill to notice.

“We have too many leftovers in our fridge,” he said. Chanyeol nodded, giving his sleeve one last tug before escorting Baekhyun out the door. Yifan stood in place for a few seconds or so before shutting the door carefully. He stared blankly at it, and then painfully hissed as he uncurled his fists. He rushed into his bedroom, closing the door behind him as he examined the half-moon marks on his hands. They were slightly bloody because sometimes his nails had the tendency to grow out into dragon-like claws whenever he felt strong emotions.

He climbed onto his bed, searching for bandages on his bookshelf, but he couldn’t find them because his vision started blurring. He blinked rapidly, fighting against the pressure rising up from his chest. It felt like there was something stuck in his throat. He tried to exhale, and a half-choked sob came out. Shitshitshit.

Yifan touched his face, and sure enough, moisture was left on his fingertips. A few more tears traced their ways down his cheeks, and he violently rubbed them away, but he couldn’t stop the tremors from rocking his body back and forth. He lied down with his face on his pillow, muffling the hiccups and embarrassing sounds coming from his mouth.

It was okay before. He was okay before he met Baekhyun because at least he could’ve pretended he didn’t exist if he didn’t meet him. He took a deep breath and damn, how did his own pillow smell like melted wax, so much like Chanyeol? That scent alone made him choke up a little and he clutched the pillow a little closer to him. Before Baekhyun, he could’ve at least had a little hope. Just a tiny ray of light that maybe they would eventually be together. Didn’t a spirit bond make some kind of difference? Then he saw the pure adoration shining from Chanyeol’s eyes earlier and something inside his chest collapsed.

He curled up with his face still on the pillow. Just for today, he would openly wallow in misery. He could allow that for one day at least, before he got up the next morning to make sure that Chanyeol’s smiles would never fade.

“Do you have everything? Your passport? Clothes? Underwear, keys, toothbrush?” Chanyeol asked as he fluttered around Yifan.

“Yes,” he said, hitching his backpack on his shoulder as he rolled the suitcase to their door. Baekhyun was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, kicking his legs back and forth. “Stop worrying, I’m only leaving for a short business trip.”

“Three weeks,” Chanyeol said. “Three weeks.”

“Not that long. Take care of him.” That last part he directed towards Baekhyun. Baekhyun gave him a peace sign, which meant yes.

Chanyeol was puffing out one of his cheeks. “I can take care of myself.”

“Last time I checked, I was the only one who could cook,” Yifan said dryly.

“I’m the one who provides the fire for the stove in the first place,” Chanyeol mumbled.

“I’ll see you later. Be safe.” He patted Chanyeol’s head. He barely took a step away before he was engulfed in a suffocating hug.

“You too.” Chanyeol’s head ducked in embarrassment when he pulled away. Yifan stood in place for a second before he forced his feet to move away.

It wasn’t easy, to stand by and just wait for the pieces of his heart to disintegrate away. But in some ways, it was worth it. Yifan walked out of the apartment, inwardly dreading the prospect of not having Chanyeol’s calming presence around him for the next three weeks.

“Ready to go?” Lu Han’s distinctive purple hair made Yifan do a double take before he nodded. His friend had made hair-dying a hobby of sorts, claiming that it was therapeutic.

“Nice car,” he commented after putting his suitcase in the back and sliding into the car.

Lu Han gave him a shark-like grin. “I borrowed it from Baozi for today.”

“Borrowed, or stole?” Yifan asked.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Lu Han twisted a knob on the car. “Check this out. It has color-changing windows. Look.”

Yifan furrowed his eyebrows at the rainbow-tinted windows. “Is that really necessary?”

“It apparently attracts flying koi fish.” Lu Han beamed. “Doesn’t my boyfriend have great taste?”

ifan decided not to deign that with a comment.

After starting up the car and typing the address of the airport into the navigation system (which had twitching antennas, for some reason), Lu Han turned to him and asked, “Are you and Chanyeol going to be okay?”

That question caught him off-guard. “What?”

“You’ve never been apart for that long, right?”

“Oh.” Yifan twisted the corners of his business suit. “He’ll be fine.”

“What about you?”

“I... I’ll be fine, too.” Yifan looked out the window where the trees were passing them by.

Lu Han was silent for a moment. His mouth thinned out into a seriousness that Yifan rarely saw. “Are you going to keep waiting for him?”

They weren’t talking about this three week trip anymore.

“I’m not waiting,” Yifan said quietly. “Even when I try, I can’t see anyone in my vision except for him.”

Lu Han sighed. “I just don’t like to see you hurting.”

A genuine smile cracked at the edges of his lips. “Look at that, your tender side is showing through, Lulu. You might want to hide that before your Baozi realizes that it exists and exploit it thoroughly.”

He got a smack in the head for his teasing. “He already knows about it, thank you very much!” Lu Han shouted.

They didn’t talk about him and Chanyeol for the rest of the ride.

A sigh of relief escaped him as he finally set his feet on solid ground again. Biting his bottom lip as happiness threatened to bubble out of him, he dialed his home phone number.

“Guess who?” He asked into his cell.

There was a pause, and then: “Yifan?” followed by a crashing sound.

Yifan scrunched up his forehead in concern. “Chanyeol?”

“Ouch. I’m fine. Just fell off the couch.”

He laughed into the receiver. It crackled back with Chanyeol’s abashed laughter.

“My flight was early,” Yifan said.

A deep intake of breath from the other end of the call. “You mean – ”

“Yup.” Yifan closed his eyes and saw Chanyeol’s face imprinted on the back of his eyelids. “I’m coming home.”

When he rung the doorbell, he hadn’t expected the door to be open a split second later and a solid body crashing into him. He dropped his luggage and after a moment of hesitation, held Chanyeol with an audible sigh of relief mixed with happiness. The warm body in his arms was shaking a little, although the trembling subsided after ten seconds.

“Welcome home,” Chanyeol said, his chin digging into Yifan’s shoulder and arms still wrapped around his neck in a vice-grip. Yifan saw Baekhyun standing in the hallway, with slightly widened eyes and standing around like he didn’t know what to do.

I'm home, he thought. But instead he said, "You're on fire."

Chanyeol leapt away with a small yelp, staring at his own hands, which did indeed have a few flickers of flame licking his skin. Yifan held his wrists in case he decided to spazz out and leave scorch marks on their white walls. The flames leapt at Yifan’s skin, but he didn’t feel it. After awhile, it retreated back into Chanyeol’s skin and faded away.

“He’s been accidentally lighting things on fire ever since last week,” Baekhyun said, hanging back somewhat awkwardly.

“I was just a little agitated,” Chanyeol said, shifting from foot to foot but still clutching at Yifan’s hands like he was afraid that Yifan was going to disappear on him in a millisecond.

He walked into the kitchen area with Chanyeol still in tow, trying to assess the damage. “At least you didn’t burn this whole building down.”

Chanyeol snorted. “We chose a bricked apartment for a reason.” He looked and sounded a lot less frazzled than before. Yifan, too, who had been feeling twitchy from being away from him for so long, felt peaceful with him at his side.

“Should I go?” Baekhyun asked. Chanyeol looked at Yifan as if asking him for the answer.

“Stay for dinner,” he said. Baekhyun’s eyes darted from him to his boyfriend, and he shook his head a little.

“No thanks. I’ll let you guys catch up with each other.” With that, he grabbed his jacket and tip-toed to peck Chanyeol’s mouth before heading out the door.

“How have you been? Other than lighting random things on fire, of course,” Yifan asked as he picked up a melted down version of their toaster and squinting at it. It looked like a flattened piece of modern art now.

Chanyeol’s lips twitched. “Fine. Or as fine as I can be while being distracted at work constantly and everyone walking in a three feet radius around me for fear that I would set them on fire, too.”

Yifan set the unrecognizable toaster down. “Their fears were warranted.”

“Can you…” Chanyeol was still holding Yifan’s hands, and now he squeezed them. “Can you not do that again?”

“What? Leave on business trips?”

He turned his head and pressed his cheek against Yifan’s shoulder, which probably meant that he was flushing right now. “At least for not that long a period of time.”

“Okay.” Yifan ran his hand through Chanyeol’s hair and felt a responding shiver and sigh. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest, but he didn’t say anything as he kept combing Chanyeol’s hair with his fingers.

He woke up with a jerk, looking at the alarm clock and noting with relief that it was the weekends so he didn’t have work to be late for. There was a small whine made by someone else’s throat and Yifan looked down. He froze at the surreal sight of Chanyeol curled close to his chest. Oh right. This was their compensation for being without contact for twenty-one days in a row. Chanyeol had burrowed underneath his blankets last night, eyes almost pleading.

Yifan realized with detached horror that his lower part was hard. Of all the mornings… He cursed himself. Chanyeol, whose mouth was still half-open from sleep and drool threatening to run down from the corner of his mouth, just shifted closer. Yifan suppressed a small moan when Chanyeol’s left hand brushed against his exposed hipbone. Carefully and tenderly, he guided his hand away from him, and slowly sat up. And just because he couldn’t resist and was secretly a masochist, he reached out and put his hand on Chanyeol’s cheek. He rubbed his thumb against it, and the sleeping man turned his head towards the hand, almost as if he was starved for the touch. Yifan withdrew his hand quickly and stumbled into the bathroom.

He needed a freezing shower.

After dressing and drying his hair, Yifan stood in the kitchen, unsure what to make because most of the food in the fridge was either expired or burnt. In the end, he spotted some eggs that were still thankfully untouched and rescued them. Chanyeol stumbled out of the bedroom a few minutes later, blearily rubbing his eyes.

“Morning,” he said through a yawn. Yifan answered with a hum. “Smells good.”

“We need to go grocery shopping soon.”

Chanyeol shuffled forwards until his chin was resting on Yifan’s shoulder. “Takeout food tastes horrible. I’m so glad to have home cooked food back again.”

Yifan chuckled, using his free hand to tap Chanyeol’s nose. Chanyeol stared back with wide eyes, lips slightly parted before he retreated a few paces. Yifan tried not to let the pang of disappointment show through his voice. “That’s all I’m good for, hm? Cooking.”

Chanyeol frowned, hair still tousled by sleep. Oh gods, he looked so cute in the mornings. “You know that’s not true.”

“Go brush your teeth,” Yifan said, nudging his roommate and friend (they will never be anything more than that and he just had to accept that, didn’t he?) with his hip. Chanyeol gave him this indecipherable stare for a few more seconds before nodding and dragging his feet into the bathroom.

After the bathroom door closed, Yifan put both hands on the counter to support himself as he breathed shakily in and out. One day, his self-control might just snap. He gritted his teeth, and then turned his attention towards the eggs before they burned.

Part Three

Molten Wax [1/3]

flameflowerful — Sun, 27 Jan 2013 07:38:20 GMT

Rated: NC-17
Summary: Yearning for a touch from the phoenix.
Inspired by this and this.
Do not plagiarize. Comments, critiques, pointing out typos, or just the vomiting of feels, would be much appreciated.
Author Note: I can't believe I finally, actually finished this. This has been the longest oneshot I've ever written. The Krisyeol pairing has been giving me so many feels recently I just kind of poured them out into this. Ahahaha. I've been working on this for days, actually. I hope you appreciate my effort ;A;. Well, what are you waiting for? Go on. Read! <3

Molten wax burned in his veins as he gasped. His back elongated and his cells fought to change shape. Fire hissed in the back of his throat. Hands were struggling to form claws, fingernails hardened and a tear slipped from the back of his eyelids as the inevitable transformation took place.

Seeing through the irises of a dragon made the world look strange. It was distorted, and yet it felt right at the same time. His scales shifted into place, climbing over each other like ivy plants stretching, thirsting for growth. At long last came the wings, stretching and finally finding their freedom, bursting from his back like elongated limbs.At that moment, his stomach decided to gurgle loudly.

Yifan grumbled to himself. Of course he had to get hungry right after the transformation. His other half of his mind, the animalistic side of him, immediately started to analyze the surroundings, trying to see where a potential prey would be hiding while his more human side was complaining about the prospect of eating raw meat again.

Well. It couldn’t be helped, he guessed. His wings thrust sharply out, and his sleek body rose up into the air. The night moon illuminated his frightening figure as the dragon swooped over the trees.

There was a rustle in the wind, just a whisper of something that caused Yifan to raise his head up. The smell of something smoldering in the air was just impossible to miss, and automatically he angled himself towards the crags and rocks next to the myriad of trees, entering a different but not altogether unfamiliar territory.

The phoenix was there in its usual spot, perched on one of the rocks, its head arching up majestically. Yifan gave a little growl to draw his attention, but as predicted, the fire-bird did not show any indication of hearing it other than a twitch in its talons. Slightly irritated, Yifan stole his way over to the phoenix’s side and peeked at what the mythical being was staring at with such focus. He just saw the deep flush of dark sky where the sun was going to rise later and gave a snort. How was that more interesting to stare at than him? The impudence.

With that thought, Yifan nudged at the phoenix with his head. The other squawked and flapped its bright wings, its flames bouncing off Yifan’s inflammable scales. It quickly regained its dignity, albeit looking more ruffled up than before, and resumed its previous duty of ignoring the giant (albeit skinny for his species) dragon next to it.

Letting out a huff filled with ashes, Yifan leapt off the cliff and plowed through the branches and spotted the perfect prey. With a concealed snarl, he plunged his teeth into the rabbit that had a heart attack upon seeing him and died even before he cut off its airway. Leaping back next to the phoenix, he spat out the rabbit and proudly pranced around it, flicking his arrow-shaped tail. The fire-bird finally looked at him, at the dead rabbit, then back at him. It let out an amused trill, before tapping the rabbit with one talon and setting it on fire, taking the talon off when the rabbit was burnt black beyond recognition.

The look the phoenix gave the dragon was clear: Nice try.

Yifan, if he was in his human form then, would’ve thrown his hands up to the heavens and kneeled dramatically because why. For several months it had been this push and resistance, with the other steadily rejecting his advances. Okay, maybe it made sense that he should be rejected, because a dragon and a phoenix together? What? Yifan didn’t even know if the other was like him, human by day and sometimes creature by night. Hell, he didn’t even know the freaking gender of the other (in the back of his mind, Yifan wondered if he even cared, to be honest). But the first time he saw the fire-bird, the dragon part of him hummed slowly and yet strongly in satisfaction. That melody inside of him intensified through time and exposure to the other, and he just had the weird intention to protect the phoenix with his webbed wings whenever it rained (even though there was a fucking cave right there) and he began this sort of… nonsensical courting ritual. Which the phoenix clearly didn’t appreciate enough.

Yifan tried to look as indignant as he possibly could while trapped in his dragon form, but then his stomach growled again, and he gazed sadly at the burnt rabbit. Wings slightly drooping, he click-clacked his way back into the forest in search of more edible food (that was not freaking burnt. It was a very delicious looking rabbit too, goddamnit).

“You look like you had been drop-kicked into the underworld and then dragged back up here just in time for school,” Lu Han said unsympathetically. His hair, as usual, was swept artistically across his forehead. He was wearing the ugliest sweater (decorated with bright yellow ducks) possible, and still managed to look like he stepped off a fashion runway.

“Stop, no. You talk too loudly,” Yifan said, hands rubbing at his temples. He squinted at his acquaintance (who was really his best friend, but no, like he would ever admit that because Lu Han would just smugly rub it into his face everyday and that would make his life even more hell-ish).

“You know, if I didn’t know you any better, I would say that you drank a shit load of alcohol yesterday.”

“I wish,” Yifan said, burrowing his aching head into his arms on the desk, and proceeded to make the most attractive dying whale sound possible.

“What happened to Yifan?” That was Yixing, plopping down in the seat in front of them. Thank goodness he talked a lot softer than Lu Han did.

“Oh, you know,” Lu Han said casually. “His time of the month.”

Yifan sent him a glare, which quickly turned into a wince because who had the atrocious idea to insert bright lights in their classroom?

Yixing made an understanding ahh and nodded gravely. “Right. His time of the month.”

“Stop talking about it like I just had my period!” He shouted, and then flushed dark red when a group of female classmates talking with each other nearby turned to stare at them. Lu Han smacked his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.

Yifan just didn’t get why a full moon had to happen right before a Monday, because that should be banned. Really. Too bad nature didn’t listen to him. The splitting headache was courtesy of being back into his human body. It was always a struggle for him to adjust to how he saw, heard, and felt everything, really. As a consequence, this adjustment always brought on painful and annoying headaches.

He closed his eyes and tried to revel in the cool surface of the wood on his cheek. The bell that signaled the start of the day rung and he just wanted to curl up into a fetal position already.

Mr. Lee was chirping about aura control, sunny disposition on even though it was early in the morning. The class discussion (as it always somehow did) turned into a tangent about aquatic creatures and people were asking about the aura of Loch Ness to purposely distract their teacher – which worked like a charm, really. Yifan just continued glowering at his notes as if he had a grudge against them. He didn’t even know why he was in this class because other than a special urge to turn into a dragon every full moon or so and the unfortunate tendency to breath fire, he really didn’t have much of any mage potential.

Strung out and utterly bored, Yifan tapped his pen against his thigh and stared out into the blueness of the sky through the window. There was a curled up pit of anticipation in his stomach, for when he might see the phoenix next month.

It was funny how time passed, because the next thing he knew, Yifan was standing besides the phoenix again. It was a warm night, and only the rise and fall of the humongous bird’s chest gave him a clue that the other was alive. That, and the flickering flames outlining its body. Yifan was feeling particularly lazy that night, and so he was just swishing his tail across the rough surface of the ground and opening and closing one eye at a fly that was daring to land on his nose and buzz away only to land back there. He let out a snort, and the fly shook and trembled and flew away.

His mind was so relaxed that when he jerked awake and raised his head up, the hints of a sunrise was splayed across the sky. He had stayed here for too long, and the restless shuffling of the fire-bird was probably what woke him up in the first place. Yifan stretched, letting out a big yawn that sounded like a lackluster roar, and poised his body for takeoff.

It was already too late. The sun was peeking out of the horizon and the splash of purples and blues across the sky meant that he was going to change back into a two-legged creature soon. Yifan shivered and the beginnings of that familiar crawling sensation worked its way across his body. The ground approached his eyesight as he shrunk, and he let out a slow hiss at the sensation of settling back into another skin.

Yifan was kneeling on the ground, hands flung in front of him to maintain his balance. A throbbing pain in the back of his head told him that the headache was there to welcome him back to the human world. A muffled groan alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone. On the rock, where the phoenix was perched almost every time he saw it, was a curled up teenage boy. The boy let out what sounded like a sigh, and shakily stood up.

Yifan just stared, because the only thing flashing across his mind was N-Naked. Which he shouldn’t be concerned about, because he was kind of lacking clothing at the moment, too. But the boy was imperfectly flawless. The pale, smooth skin splattered with occasional purple bruises. The badly cut hair that framed almond-shaped eyes and…

Yeah, he should stop staring. By now, his brain had started running and he recognized the person in front of him. Park Chanyeol, the quiet kid in his class who had the contradicting characteristic of laughing like a seal. He always seemed to have a smile ready for anyone who needed it. They never talked to each other before.

As he crouched there like a frozen statue, Chanyeol brushed dirt from his knees in a practiced fashion and without any regards to his currently naked state, walked into the hollowed cave situated nearby them. Yifan was still trying to get his bearings when Chanyeol emerged back out and tossed pants and a t-shirt that said, Keep Calm and Carry On, at him. He instinctively caught it, squinting at phoenix boy because the sun was getting brighter and brighter.

“Put these on. You should be glad I prepared extra clothing in case,” Chanyeol said, not looking at him as he stepped into his own sweatpants.

Yifan made an odd throat clearing noise, and said, “Thanks.” He almost tripped sideways as he tried to get the clothes on as fast as possible. His cheeks were burning a little, and Wu Yifan did not ever blush. Ever.

“Oh, and also,” Chanyeol said with a lilting tone in his voice, “my phoenix is a vegetarian. So stop trying to feed it raw meat.”

And then he left. Yifan stared after him with a gaping jaw for several minutes before he fully recovered.

It all made sense now, because whenever Chanyeol would enter the classroom, there was a distinct smell of charred wood that wafted into Yifan’s nose. It was the kind of smell that occurred right after one blew out birthday candles, and Yifan found it pleasantly addicting.

“Earth to Wu Yifan,” Yixing droned, waving a hand in front of his face. “What’s with you these past few days?”

Scowling, Yifan tried to smack Yixing’s hand away, which had started to poke him in the cheek. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Lu Han gave a little melodramatic gasp next to him, and he leaned in. “I bet I know what’s up. He’s in luuuuurrrrrve.”

“Oh my gods, no, please. Spare me the torture,” Yifan said. Yixing just beamed, and both of his friends gave this really creepy laugh that was exponentially creep-ified by the fact that they were completely synchronized.

“That would explain everything.” Yixing’s eyes were twinkling like Dumbledore by now and his dimples were showing obnoxiously.

“Leave me aloooone,” Yifan moaned pathetically.

“Who do you think it is?” Lu Han’s eyes darted back and forth between the two as he mock-whispered to Yixing.

“We must observe him like a hawk from now on,” Yixing said and Lu Han nodded sagely in agreement. Yifan just wondered why they were friends.

For once, Mr. Lee leapt into the classroom at the right time, and Yifan found it hard to keep his eyes from wandering to Chanyeol’s back. Apparently, the other was nodding off as the teacher went on an excited ramble about Finding Nemo, making the water from the faucet spurt out at random intervals. Yifan watched a little warily because he knew that Mr. Lee was powerful despite his airhead personality, and if he started talking about the part where Nemo finally reunited with his dad and got all emotional, the pipes of the school building might leak and flood again just like last time.

"Yifan,” a husky voice called his name after class was dismissed. Lu Han gave him a quirked eyebrow before escorting the still-half-dozing Yixing from the classroom. Yifan found, to his surprise, that it was Chanyeol who called him. He was rubbing his swollen eyes and digging a packet of loose leaf from his bag, thrusting them at him.

Yifan took it, and stared at the pages. His messy scrawl was all over them.

“Thanks for the notes.” Chanyeol gave him a slow smile that stretched all across his face. Yifan felt a part of his stomach suffer from a simmering burn.

“How did you know they were mine?” Yifan asked, because he had secretively smuggled them into Chanyeol’s locker after he was missing from school for two days, sick.

Chanyeol just gave him another smile, almost secretive in the sly way he twisted his mouth. “Your handwriting,” he said as if it was obvious.

“Oh.”

And as he hitched his bag over his shoulder after bowing his head in thanks, Yifan walked out of the door with the thought that maybe Chanyeol paid him as much attention as he did to Chanyeol.

The smell of burnt candles lingered around him, even when he went to sleep that night.

Walking across the well-worn path with Yixing and Lu Han, Yifan remembered that the reason they became a trio of sorts was because they were neighbors ever since they were small. Right. That was probably why they still hung out together (never mind the fact that there were tons of other kids who lived in the same neighborhood).

“The flowers are starting to bloom,” Yifan said. It was true. The soft green was peeking out from old buds and the pink flush of spring was starting to show even on the path they were trudging on. There was also an unexplainable itch that crawled along his skin, and it burned in a pleasant yet yearning sort of way.

“Since when did you start noticing nature?” Lu Han teased. He laughed when Yifan turned to glare at him and walked straight into a tree. Yixing looked delighted at his pain, too, but still patted him on the back sympathetically.

Yifan nursed his newfound bruise on his forehead as he flashbacked to what his behaviorist counselor told him. He only went to that counselor every once or twice a year, because his parents worried about the consequences of their son being a dragon every once awhile. Only his closest friends and family knew about his unfortunate transformation, because this type of thing was kind of weird, even in a world full of mages and everyday miracles. There were equal amounts of awe and fear surrounding the ability to turn into a mythical creature, because sure, werewolves and merfolk were kind of common, but the rareness surrounding his circumstance made it an uncomfortable topic to talk about with humans. Even his behaviorist counselor didn’t know what to do with him sometimes, so she kind of guided Yifan based on her knowledge on typical transformations (again, like werewolves).

There had to be a reason the full moon thing was similar to werewolves, his counselor kept musing whenever Yifan was sitting in front of her desk and bored out of his mind.

Last meeting, his counselor said something… strange. She had combed through her long hair with her fingers, a nervous tic that she had, before telling him that spring was coming.

“Yes,” Yifan had said slowly, in case his counselor had gone mental somehow from talking with her other clients.

“No,” she said impatiently, “Spring. Get it?”

“Uh.”

“Spring.” She looked like she was going to tear her own hair out and then go for Yifan’s next. He moved back his chair a little in case. “Mating season.”

He watched with wary eyes. “And that involves me how?”

“You’re not excluded from the whole mess.”

“You mean like…” Yifan tried to form the words properly but couldn’t. His counselor just sighed in relief that he was finally catching on.

“Yes. Urges,” she said like she didn’t want to go into it further.

“Right. Oh. Oh. Ugh.”

“There we go! Finally got it through your head.” She leaned back on her spinning chair and crossed her arms. “My job here is finished.”

Wow, he had a pretty horrible counselor because, huh? He was still trying to process the implications of the information that she had just dumped on his bleached head. And she wasn’t even explaining more than that.

“Oh yes, almost forgot,” she said, tapping her desk with her chewed-out pen. “Anyone else in your area that’s like you?”

He knew what that meant. Others who could turn into mythical creatures like him (rare cases, really). The way his face paled gave her the answer.

“Well, you know what to do.” She cleared her throat like there was something stuck in it. His eyes bugged out. She quickly waved her hands, to wave off the misunderstanding. “No, not that, preferably. Keep your distance if you don’t want to be bonded to another. You’re far too young for that.”

“Urm,” he said, because this was too awkward. And that was where their conversation ended, because she was rushing him out of her office (another appointment was waiting for her, she insisted, but he suspected that she couldn’t stand the awkwardness either).

So Yifan kind of had the suspicions that his crazy itch was because of spring. Spring. Mating season.

He resisted the urge to dive in the lake to hide his mortification. Thank gods Yixing and Lu Han were too involved in the discussion of whether fried octopus or fried squid tasted better to notice that he was off in his own world again.

That season, Yifan did his best to (as his counselor advised) put distance between him and Chanyeol. Well, to be honest, his stupid teenage hormones acted up even when they were in their human forms. He just went out of his way to avoid touching Chanyeol in any way shape or form, because the last contact made him drop his pencil case in shock because it felt like there was an electric ball of infernal sizzling between them in that moment. The younger did not look affected at first glance, but the way his eyes burned sometimes told Yifan otherwise.

Stupid Spring.

Even though he roamed the forest at nighttime in his dragon form, resisting the pull that the rocky crags had on him, he could still practically taste the pheromones in the air. He knew that Chanyeol was also holding onto his pride, purposely not seeking him out (when did he ever do that, anyway? Yifan tried to squash down a sliver of disappointment). He even butted his head against a few large trees, which unfortunately fell from the force, in frustration from the clawing fire that was tearing him apart. The head-butting, unfortunately, led to bigger headaches during the daytime. The human side of him wrestled with the dragon side, holding him back.

The dreams were even worse, haunting him with the breathtaking sensation of fire burning across his skin mixed up with the images of Chanyeol’s grinfacelegs everything. He always woke, gasping, heart pounding, clutching at his chest where his heart was.

He tried to occupy his time listening to trance music, helping Yixing access his reservoir of power, bickering with Lu Han, and jogging outside to exhaust himself so that he would have a sleepless night. It didn’t always work, but it was worth a try.

What made everything worse was that Chanyeol was constantly in his personal radar. When Yifan turned to drink from the water fountain, there Chanyeol was, walking pass him in the hallway. In class, in gym, even outside, Yifan could spot the mop of dark hair lethargically making its way across the school yard. They made eye contact a few times when they never did before. That was probably due to the reason that Yifan was paying a lot more attention to him than before (read: he was being a creeper). Chanyeol would usually blink, an exaggerated sort of blink that conveyed itself as some sort of greeting. Just like that, the contact would be lost again and Yifan would be left standing there feeling slightly hollower than before.

If he closed his eyes, he found that Chanyeol’s face was already perfectly imprinted across the back of his eyelids.

The cursed season finally passed, and Yifan gave himself a little pat in the back for being able to resist the whole time. He felt like he had just expended Hercules strength pulling back from whatever tension that existed between him and the phoenix. His animalistic urges seeped back into almost nothing, even though teenage hormones stayed. At least now he could make his way near Chanyeol without the constant spike of arousal messing up his system.

Full moon nights often involved them sitting side by side, conversing without words. Sometimes the phoenix would spontaneously leap off and soar under the starry sky, stretching out the kinks from sitting so long. The first time that happened, Yifan watched with an overwhelming sense of awe at the graceful movements of how Chanyeol would bank and sometimes even glide. Sparks of light followed his movements like they were faerie orbs.

Flying with Chanyeol was even more exhilarating. One of them would always issue a sort of challenge against the other with just a glint in their eyes and they would take off, the rulers of the full moon night. Yifan found out that the fire-bird was as competitive as he was, and strained himself to reach the finish first (which was usually a small waterfall running into a bubbling river). Whenever he won, Chanyeol would screech a little like the sore loser he was, and peck Yifan a few times for good measure and then fly back. It was a pattern that they somehow established, with the phoenix always getting back to base first. Yifan also discovered that he could laugh in dragon form, which turned out to be a gurgling sound that was akin to volcanoes spitting out lava. Chanyeol’s laugh was more like a hiss that formed the weirdest melody in the world.

During the summer, they stayed out of the woods in fear of setting it on fire because of the dry, crackling nature of the trees. For creatures that could not live without the heat, they were pretty grumpy during the hot humid days. Yifan found that Chanyeol was a lot more energetic during the warm days, often playfully teasing the dragon with nudges and flaps. Yifan was kind of the opposite, opting to settle down on the cool rocks and not move, which was impossible given the fact that there was an obnoxiously hyperactive fire-bird annoying him.

By this point, Yifan already knew where Chanyeol lived, because they usually walked back together, stumbling around like drunken fools at first (balance was hard to achieve after changing back no matter how many times they did it). If it was a school day, though, they would usually just leave their bags in the cave and pick them up to head straight for school.

Yifan discovered that Chanyeol was particularly loud when he got excited about something. Like manga.

“How have you never read Fairy Tale? That’s like committing a sin against the manga gods,” Chanyeol was yelping excitedly as they walked through the scratchy bushes, tracing a path that only they knew. A few birds chirped in alarm and flew away from them.

“I’ve read One Piece, and I kind of figured it was the same,” Yifan said, picking off a few leaves from Chanyeol’s hair.

Chanyeol was staring at him with those wide eyes that he could pull off when he was particularly shocked. Or angry. Or happy. Or just plain hungry. “I’ve got to lend you a few volumes soon. Remind me.”

Yifan made a sound of agreement, making a note to never remind Chanyeol about it. He would be piled with dozens of books before the week ended if that was the case.

Once they got to school, Chanyeol seemed to withdraw into his quietly content self again and saluted Yifan before taking his seat.

“I saw that,” a voice said and Yifan’s neck hairs rose.

“Lu Han,” he hissed. “Can you stop trying to scare me by sneaking up behind me?”

“Try? No, my young padawan, I succeed. Everyday.” There was that infamous squint coupled with a mischievous grin. “You’re very chummy with Park Chanyeol over there now, hmm?”

“Who uses the word ‘chummy’ nowadays?”

In response, Lu Han twisted his hand in a swishy motion that clearly meant: Talk to the hand. “I need more information, Wu Yifan. Or I’ll force-feed you carrots during lunch.”

Involuntarily, Yifan blanched. “Do you love to torture me that much?”

“I’m your best friend. Of course I love to torture you.”

Yifan paused for a moment, wrestling with himself because he didn’t really want to tell. It was like that universe he had made with Chanyeol should belong to them and them only. Telling anyone else, even Lu Han, felt sacrilegious. But carrots. “Chanyeol’s the phoenix.”

There was a moment of silence, and Yixing’s head suddenly popped up from the front of his desk. “Oh,” he said, “That makes sense.”

Yifan almost fell over backwards in his haste to get away from Yixing. “Did you two plan this?”

“Sneak attack from two different directions,” Lu Han chirped. “Yup.”

Yifan just gaped.

“But see, you were all secretive about the identity of the phoenix that we just started guessing about who it was,” Yixing said.

“I was kind of hoping it would be Kim Junsu,” Lu Han sighed. The other two both turned to stare at him.

“From DBSK? He’s an idol,” Yifan said slowly.

Lu Han nodded, grinning almost maniacally. “Oh yes, it’d be awesome if you knew him. And I would get all the free autographs and posters and CD albums…”

“Poor delusional soul,” Yifan said, patting Lu Han’s daydreaming head.

Fall passed with a flurry of bright golden leaves and mind-numbing finals. Winter was their break from school, yet Lu Han and Yixing spent their time studying for the standard test that all aspiring professional mages had to pass. Yifan sometimes joined them, but just to distract them, because there was no way he could ever be a mage. He would just be your run-of-the-mill person with an average job, thank you very much, and maybe with a special tendency to stomp around as a dragon sometimes. He found himself hanging out with Chanyeol more and more, eating at crappy-looking restaurants that miraculously served delicious food and methodically reading through Fairy Tale (Chanyeol had somehow remembered).

He would sometimes catch himself staring at random parts of Chanyeol, jerking away when he realized what he was doing (because who in their right minds would gaze at someone’s neck, never mind that it was pale and gorgeous, for a whole minute?). Chanyeol’s touch would almost always leave a slow burn on his skin, which he assumed was from the phoenix’s tendency to emit flames even as a human, even though a zing of energy would then run along from that touch and into his chest to simmer there.

Chanyeol loved the snow, and he liked to drag Yifan out into the cold whenever there were flurries. That day, the snow was softly coming down, touching Chanyeol’s outstretched palms and lighting up in flames before melting utterly and completely into the air. Everywhere the snowflakes touched him, sparks were appearing. He was standing in the middle of the fireworks, lips slightly parted. Yifan felt a tightening in his chest that was occurring more and more frequently with Chanyeol’s presence, and ignored it by tugging the sleeve of the phoenix’s jacket.

“Let’s make a snowman,” Yifan said, revealing his gums in a smile.

“There’s only two inches of snow, and I would burn our snowman before we finished,” Chanyeol said, but he was already encircling Yifan’s wrist in his hand and dragging them out to where the snow was the deepest.

“Wear these.” He proceeded to take off his wool gloves and carefully put them on Chanyeol’s hands. “Why do you keep forgetting your own gloves?”

Chanyeol laughed. It was a quiet, almost shy kind of laugh that curled around them like a warm fireplace. “Thanks. You won’t be cold?”

“I have dragon skin. Tough stuff.” Yifan smiled in response to Chanyeol’s nod.

e was starting to shiver a little, though, after they made their miniature snowman. A very pretty snowwoman, Chanyeol insisted after clumping in two snowballs on the snowman’s chest.

“Dragon skin my ass,” Chanyeol snorted after he saw the first teeth-chattering shiver, and then proceeded to push Yifan into a warm bookstore after they took selcas with their snowwoman.

Yifan just shoved his super cold nose down Chanyeol’s exposed neck and was rewarded with a squeak. Body heat, he murmured as an excuse as he moved closer to Chanyeol and wrapped his arms around him. The next shiver he gave was not related to the cold at all.

He could only hold out for so long. Spring rolled in with aggression, jasmines and lilies sprouting everywhere with trees happily turning lush green under the sun. Yifan, in the meantime, contemplated the option of moving into a different country for this whole season. It was a nice thought, but not exactly achievable. Still, he had to maintain this 10 feet distance from Chanyeol that was killing him. The other seemed to be doing the same thing, skirting the hallways whenever they walked past each other.

He was okay with it last year because they weren’t that close before. Now, though, he had to restrain himself from poking Chanyeol to tell him about how horrible his day was. Or how he had seen that update from Fairy Tale and wow, Erza was so fucking cool. Plus, this spring, the rush of hormones coming from both his human and dragon sides were almost suffocating. He kept shifting uncomfortably in class, that itch possessing his inner skin as his eyes kept going back to Chanyeol again and again.

He didn’t even know why this… yearning only set its sight on the phoenix and him only. Was it because they were similar fundamentally in terms of abilities? Of who they were? Were fire beings just drawn to each other? Or did the dragon inside of him choose him, the way a predator would mark a prey? These questions often distracted him from his studies.

The second full moon, at the height of the mating season, greeted Yifan with a vengeance. It shone down on him almost cruelly as he paced back and forth on the forest floor, trying not to set the woods on fire. He was trembling slightly, mind tired from resisting the urge to fly at top notch speed straight for Chanyeol.

He took several deep breaths that he learned from this yoga class that Yixing forced him to take. A lonely, piercing sound whipped his head up, searching for its source even though he instinctively knew who it was. It was a keening that pulled him forward in instinct, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop his dragon side from taking over and wings violently pushing him off the floor. It was a mating call.

Chanyeol was keening for him, and his mind dissolved and a sort of blank frenzy took its place. A similar sound was tearing its way through his throat, and the phoenix answered back, trilling several octaves higher than him.

What happened next, he could not remember clearly. The dragon saw the fire-bird, whose head was twitching from side to side in search of him. He crash-landed and curled his body around the phoenix, and the phoenix wrapped himself around him as well. A white, intense flame burst from their contact, and crackling energy jolted both of them, and the last thing that Yifan felt before falling into darkness was red hot pleasure that felt almost painful.

He woke up, blinking against the morning sun and Chanyeol lazily smiling in front of him.

“What?” Yifan asked, mind still blurry around the edges but weirdly without a headache.

“Nothing. Well, not nothing, really. I just realized that it’s Sunday. No school today,” Chanyeol said.

“Hmm,” Yifan said, and closed his eyes, and then opened them again in alarm once reality set in. “Wait. What are you doing here?”

Chanyeol gave him a blink. “Stuck.”

“Ah – Huh?” Yifan looked down and found that his arms were holding Chanyeol close to his chest. And they were both naked. He quickly tried to move away, only to find one of his arms trapped underneath Chanyeol’s. “Sorry.”

“’S alright.” Chanyeol rolled off, striding towards their cave. How was he so nonchalant about all this? Yifan was currently having a mental breakdown, trying to trace back to how exactly they ended up here. It was spring, Yifan was supposed to transform in the forest and –

he memories, or more flashes of images, bombarded their ways impolitely into his mind and Yifan groaned. What the fuck.

He really had no other words to describe this situation.

Chanyeol came back out fully dressed and tossed Yifan’s old clothing at him unceremoniously. He looked slightly flushed, but in this self-satisfied sort of way, and content. Mostly content.

After Yifan pulled on his clothing, he finally deigned to ask, “Okay, so what happened exactly?”

Chanyeol gave him a curled grin. “We bonded.”

Yifan was probably the color of a white egg now. His hands started to shake. “What?”

“Well,” Chanyeol started to explain. “When in spring season – ”

Yifan cut him off. “I know, but what?”

“What, what?” Chanyeol looked puzzled.

“I was – this wasn’t supposed to – ” Yifan started pacing around like an angry tiger, or more aptly, dragon.

“I was trying to avoid it, but I guess it couldn’t be helped.” Chanyeol shrugged.

Yifan finally stopped his heated pacing and looked at Chanyeol. “We have to see my behaviorist counselor.”

She’ll know what to do. Hopefully.

“I don’t think we need to. Mine already told me the consequences should we ever make this type of connection. Basically, my phoenix and your dragon are tied together in a dependent sort of way. Which means that we are kind of bonded spiritually. Kind of. I suck at explanations, but anyway, we just kind of feed off of each other’s energy now. It’s like… We’re each other’s food!” Chanyeol nodded smugly. “So we’re exponentially stronger than before when together but would be very weak apart.”

Yifan let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat.

“I don’t mind spending the rest of my life with you,” Chanyeol said, a tad too cheerfully.

Yifan kept his mouth from spitting out me neither because he was more surprised that he didn’t drop dead from a heart attack yet.

“If you’re worried about being involved romantically with other people in the future, you don’t have to worry about that.” Chanyeol rubbed his thumb across the charred ground. “As long as we’re in close contact with each other most of the time, my counselor said that we’re free to date others. As long as they’re fine with this whole thing, of course.”

Heart dropping down to his stomach, Yifan uttered an oh before collapsing against the ground. He put his arm against his eyes. He really hoped he was dreaming, but the stick that Chanyeol was jabbing into his side clearly indicated otherwise.

It was hard to feel down, though, with all the energy coursing through his veins. At least one good thing that came out of this whole bonding shenanigan was that there was absolutely no headache and he felt like he could run across mountains before getting tired.

“Let’s go to the music store today,” Chanyeol said, and Yifan didn’t have the heart to say no.

Part Two

An Unconventional Love Story [2/2]

flameflowerful — Tue, 01 Jan 2013 03:36:11 GMT

When had it happened? Yixing kept trying to delve back into his memories of Wu Fan and him together, back to a time when he hadn’t even known what it was like for Wu Fan to not be at his side all the time. Even when he had cried from the heartbreak of losing his parakeet, Wu Fan had been there, his signature eyebrows shooting down in concern.

Yixing thought it may have been the time that Wu Fan had mockingly pressed a kiss to the back of his right hand when they were joking about fairy tales and then started arguing about the existence of happy endings in real life. Yixing kept saying that fairy tales do exist in real life (mostly because he was still enamored with the idea of real life unicorns prancing around ancient forests).

“If you insist, princess Yixing,” Wu Fan had relented with a cheesy, disgusting wink. Yixing’s throat had inexplicably gone dry and his heart jumped so much that he swore it reached his brain and stopped all of his processes of thought.

Once started, this kind of yearning only spread to each neuron until Yixing didn’t know what to think anymore. The unexpected quality of feeling something for his fiancé just added to the bone-crippling fall that Yixing was setting himself up for.

They weren’t meant to be, because arranged marriages didn’t work.

And there was that one memory that Yixing kept revisiting to squash any hope that he could have that Wu Fan could ever look at him like that.

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, as Yixing tinkled with his guitar and Wu Fan pressed buttons repetitively on the television remote. Their parents had just left them in Yixing’s large living room to attend some important party and Yixing had already tossed several pillows at Wu Fan because he had already gone through several cycles of the TV channels, so he should just settle on one goddammnit.

Wu Fan just had to settle for a sappy romantic drama. Yixing felt embarrassed being in the same room with Wu Fan because his eyes were glazing over, which were indications that he was already tearing up over the protagonist’s predicament.

“And this is why we don’t watch Titanic,” Yixing grumbled as Wu Fan shakily reached for a tissue box.

“You just have no heart,” Wu Fan said. He dabbled delicately at the corners of his eyes. Yixing just shook his head and covered his face in mortification.

“I can’t believe I’m engaged to such a fucking fruitcake,” Yixing said. He looked at Wu Fan, and his breath caught.

The commercial was flashing on the screen now and for some reason, Wu Fan was looking at him with a suddenly serious expression. Yixing thought that he had actually taken offense for the fruitcake comment, but Wu Fan had been insulted by him worse than this. Maybe he had some kind of traumatic flashbulb memory over fruitcakes before?

Before Yixing could overanalyze things, Wu Fan was kneeling before him and Yixing stared warily at him.

“You’re not going to propose to me because we’re already engaged, you know that, right?” Yixing tried to joke. He stared like Wu Fan’s hands on his shoulders were wild animals escaped from the zoo.

“Xing,” Wu Fan said, and his lowered tone made Yixing’s stomach clench with unknown tension. “I want you to find someone who could love you all of his or her life. Someone who could protect you. Who could make you happy like no one else could. I don’t want this farce of an engagement to prevent you from doing that, got it?”

Yixing’s eyes were roaming across Wu Fan’s face, taking in the strained quality to his voice, that mysterious look in his eyes that made him feel like burning up like some kind of chemical experiment. He was shaking, trembling slightly, but he wasn’t sure if it was him or if Wu Fan’s hands were shaking a little, too.

It was hard to speak when he forgot how to breathe, so he just let his eyes try to say the thought that he would never say aloud anyway: What if I want that person to be you, Wu Fan?

But that would be diverging from their plan, which was to file a divorce after their parents succeeded in marrying them together. The business contract had required a marriage between the heirs, after all, and did not mention anything about what could happen after that. Wu Fan’s mom herself had sat them down once and informed them that should they want, they could separate after the wedding.

But then what was the point of being married in the first place? Yixing had protested.

Wu Fan’s mother had only taken one look at them and sighed. You know, I could tell you all these things about business technicalities and negotiations that allow the partnership to run smoothly, but… We just want you guys to be happy, she had said with a soft look on her face.

So why was Yixing agonizing over these possibilities of a future with Wu Fan when they had already planned otherwise?

“I just don’t want you to feel chained down, just because we’re in an arranged marriage,” Wu Fan said, sliding his hand from Yixing’s shoulders, leaving shivers and tingles to travel underneath Yixing’s skin. “You haven’t dated anyone lately.”

“That’s because I’m not really interested in anyone right now,” Yixing lied, his heart throbbing slightly with pain. The caring gaze that Wu Fan looked at him with made him feel like he was barely keeping his head above a water level that was rapidly rising.

“Okay,” Wu Fan said, before the drama was back on and he was taking a few tissues out for precautionary measures. Yixing went back to his guitar, hoping that the shaky twangs of the instrument didn’t reveal any of the stinging pressure behind his eyes that he was trying to hold back.

It was hard to take care of a moping Wu Fan when he was constantly demanding ice cream. More like, demanding to be spoon-fed ice cream from Yixing.

Yixing gave him a ‘are-you-kidding’ look, but still found himself sitting resignedly next to Wu Fan, scooping ice cream with a spoon and shoving it into Wu Fan’s mouth. He gave him a little glare seeing that Wu Fan looked a little too satisfied right now.

He was only doing all of this because this was the first ever breakup that Wu Fan had gone through and he was only being a good friend, right?

“More like a good fiancé,” Chanyeol had said after he dropped off some stinking tofu that Wu Fan apparently loved.

Wu Fan’s parents were home, for once, but they had retreated to their rooms seeing as Yixing was apparently more of a comfort than they were (they didn’t even know what Wu Fan was being all down about, anyway. The relationship between Tao and Wu Fan had been a secret).

“You don’t even look heartbroken. Why am I even here?” Yixing asked, almost rhetorically.

“I feel okay because you’re here, Xing,” Wu Fan said, his hands gripping Yixing’s hips as he tried to eat the next bite of ice cream dangling from the spoon that Yixing was holding. Yixing clenched his teeth because all he wanted to do in that one moment was to sink his hands into Wu Fan’s soft hair and mold their lips together until they no longer needed oxygen but each other to breathe. He wanted to taste the film of ice cream on Wu Fan’s tongue and replace Wu Fan’s scent with his own. Yixing could barely keep his hand from shaking as Wu Fan leaned forward to lick the ice cream almost obscenely off the spoon.

“What are you, twelve?” Yixing muttered.

“But I am heartbroken,” Wu Fan said, and in a spoiled fashion, put his head on Yixing’s lap. “Comfort me.”

Yixing smacked the top of Wu Fan’s head, and then patted him when Wu Fan said, “Ow.”

“Idiot,” Yixing sighed. Wu Fan just had to tell Tao about the engagement between him and Yixing. Wu Fan was too honest. Tao took everything well, at first, because he had explained everything and even dragged Yixing over to Tao’s side to clarify everything as well. Tao had known that it wasn’t exactly a real engagement in the sense of romantic sentiments, but his eyes started looking at them sharply more and more whenever Wu Fan was a little too clingy with Yixing.

It all kind of went downhill from there, and Wu Fan almost handled the events resignedly, as if he had known what was going to happen.

“We’re still friends, at least,” Wu Fan said, digging his chin into Yixing’s thigh painfully. Yixing tried to push him off by nudging Wu Fan with his elbow.

“Yay,” Yixing said a little too unenthusiastically. Normally, he would’ve expected the selfish part of him to be happy that Wu Fan was single, but his whole self just seemed tired, like he knew that Wu Fan was single but never available for Yixing.

Wu Fan looked at him questioningly, but Yixing shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth to shut him up.

And that leads us to where we left off, in the engagement party where Yixing was desperately trying not to compare Wu Fan’s eyes to beautiful, distant stars.

They had both graduated from college. Different colleges, where they still somehow found the occasional time to hang out with each other and sometimes with their group of friends from high school. Both were still single, after more botched attempts at relationships with others, unless you counted their engagement a relationship of sorts. Maybe it was, just a twisted kind.

Yixing sighed again, holding Wu Fan’s left wrist up to check the time on his gold watch. Wu Fan shifted uncomfortably at the touch.

“Why is time passing by so slowly?” Yixing complained. “I bet I look frazzled and terrible right now, after standing for so long. My jaw hurts from smiling.”

Wu Fan inwardly disagreed, because Yixing looked the opposite from terrible. Sure, there was an almost wild look in his eyes, but Wu Fan associated that from being trapped inside a social event for that long. The white shirt that Yixing was wearing was a little rumpled, but the black suit that curved around his body made him look even more elegant than usual.

Watching as Yixing got fished into yet another polite conversation with some guests (Wu Fan’s face was apparently too intimidating to go near right now), Wu Fan felt that familiar flare of affection as Yixing fiddled with his pants pocket almost absentmindedly. His other hand was holding a stemmed wine glass, wrist titled in a relaxed manner that contradicted the stressed stiffness of Yixing’s shoulders. Wu Fan had the sudden urge to press his hands into the knots of Yixing’s back, because it had been a while since he had seen Yixing be truly relaxed.

A jolt of that ever familiar, yet unwanted, feeling of desire when he saw Yixing tilt his head back a little with those dimples of his had Wu Fan trying to look somewhere else desperately. These bothersome emotions always overwhelmed him like a tidal wave, retreating before drowning him again. It was only a few years ago that Wu Fan finally admitted to himself that he wanted Yixing more than he should.

He was too busy trying to lock his feelings inside to look for indications that Yixing felt the same way.

So there he was, trying but failing at not looking at Yixing. His eyes soaked in the way Yixing’s eyes squinted a little as he smiled (even his fake smile, which was endearing in its own way) and tried not to think about how much he wanted to kiss every knuckle on Yixing’s hands.

Yixing’s adam apple pulsed as he took a drink from the wine glass, and Wu Fan sighed softly in want.

It was a relief for the engagement party to be finally over and done with, and the two were left standing awkwardly, staring at each other. In a way, the congratulations that everyone had piled on them today had finally solidified the situation for them, made it real.

I’m going to marry Yixing, Wu Fan couldn’t help the thrill and the undeniable warmth blossoming in his chest. Even though it wasn’t for realreal, he couldn’t help but feel that excitement making his heart pitter-patter all over the place.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yixing said, his long lashes hiding the swirling emotions in his eyes. They had to make decisions on what the wedding was going to look like, after all, much to the insistence of their parents.

“Okay,” Wu Fan said, and impulsively embraced Yixing. Yixing had frozen in shock for a second before melting like liquid into his hug. Wu Fan was crazy, but he didn’t want to ever let go of Yixing.

He felt cold when they parted, even though it was temporary.

The wedding was beautiful, and Yixing was just fucking gorgeous, and Wu Fan was just wishing that everything was for real because his throat felt like a frog had been stuck inside and he couldn’t swallow it down.

“You may now kiss the,” the priest paused, “the groom.”

Wu Fan found it almost funny that their first kiss happened when they got married, but Yixing’s lips pretty much erased every miniscule of thought in his mind.

It would’ve been a little inappropriate to pull Yixing closer, so Wu Fan suppressed the desire to lick his way into Yixing’s mouth. Yixing just looked flushed after the kiss but smiled brightly at him anyway and Wu Fan just felt like there were freaking knives sticking into his heart and floating on top of the universe at the same time.

It should be illegal to have this many emotions at the same time.

Kyungsoo, one of the guests, afterwards gave Wu Fan an almost judging look. “You’re both kind of idiots, aren’t you?” He said, and Wu Fan had no idea what he meant before Kyungsoo went back to wiping the cake off of Jongin’s pouting face. His parents (and Yixing’s), on the other hand, looked like they were in seventh heaven.

“You guys look so great together,” Yixing’s mother half-sobbed as she gripped Wu Fan’s arm almost painfully. “I’m such a proud mommy today.”

“Mooooom,” Yixing said in that way that really took Wu Fan back ten years or so. “Oh my god, you’re so embarrassing.”

Wu Fan only laughed, pushing the thought of the imminent divorce from the back of his mind, and allowed himself a few moments of possessiveness over his new husband. Yixing looked perfect, with that curling smile directed at him and his waist warm underneath Wu Fan’s hand.

They decided not to waste a free (paid for by their parents) honeymoon, though, and arrived at the airport with an excited tension sparking off their skins.

The flight was meant to go to Paris (Yixing’s eyes lit up at the very thought) but then their travel agent somehow switched up their information with someone else’s, and they stood in New York’s airport with confused expressions pasted on their faces.

“Okay, now where do we go?” Yixing said slowly. Personally, Wu Fan didn’t care where they were as long he was with Yixing, and he just sounded so sappy that he wanted to dramatically stab himself for all the cheesiness.

It turned out that Minseok had an apartment in Manhatten that he wasn’t using at the moment, and he graciously allowed them to use it.

“Have fun on your honeymoon,” Minseok teased through the phone, before laughing at Wu Fan’s spluttering and then hung up.

“So? What’d he say?” Yixing asked with an expectant look on his face, but Wu Fan couldn’t look at him without flushing.

“It turns out that we could stay in New York for a while,” Wu Fan said.

Sightseeing turned out to be not as hectic as they thought it would. They took their time scouring the downtown sights and twitching at the high prices of the restaurants. They went to all the places that tourists would usually go, but also detoured at random places like the Museum of National Mathematics. Wu Fan had been to New York before, on a few vacations with his parents, but every sight and sound felt magnified with Yixing next to him.

Minseok’s apartment turned out to be a one studio room with one queen sized bed. It was probably teeth-achingly expensive despite its small size, because it was located next to Union Square and the rumbling subway. They had taken one look at the bed and stared at each other. Wu Fan was about to claim the sofa as his new sleeping apparatus when Yixing shrugged and said, “We’ve done this before.”

“Yes,” Wu Fan said, “When we were small and we had sleepovers and you whined that the floor was too hard to sleep on.”

But there was no arguing against Yixing when he looked obstinate like that, so Wu Fan just flopped onto the bed at night and tried to create a make-shift boundary between them with a stuffed dragon that they’d gotten as some sort of wedding gift.

Somehow, when he woke up, Yixing’s face was right in front of him. Yixing was hugging the dragon, looking really huggable himself. Instead of jumping right out of bed, Wu Fan shifted into a more comfortable position and clutched his pillow with his heart pounding at the fact there was less than five inches separating him and Yixing.

But when everything was quiet except for Yixing’s soft snuffling in his sleep, Wu Fan found his mind straying into painful territories that he had been trying to avoid the entire trip. Something inside of him hurt when he thought about the possibility of Yixing being with someone else in the future, which was what was most likely going to happen. He really meant it that Saturday night when he had told Yixing that he shouldn’t let this arranged marriage shit get in the way of finding someone that would make him unbelievably happy.

It would probably break his heart into tiny little pieces, but he placed Yixing’s happiness as his first priority before anything else.

What a fool he was, Wu Fan thought as his eyes blurred and he felt sleepiness overtake him, to have fallen for such a gorgeous creature.

Miracles did happen, though.

On the morning of the fifth day of their so-called honeymoon, Wu Fan was sitting with his laptop on with his tired mind thirsting for a cup of coffee when Yixing plodded in from the bathroom. Ten cups of coffee would not have injected the same amount of adrenalin into Wu Fan’s veins that the sight of Yixing in Wu Fan’s shirt did. The buttoned stripe shirt went down and stopped a few inches past his hips. Yixing hadn’t even bothered on putting his pants on, showcasing his pale legs. Wu Fan’s jaw dropped because Yixing had no idea how tempting he looked right now.

“What are you doing so early in the morning, Wu Fan?” Yixing draped his lanky arms around the other man’s frame, eyes peeking at the computer screen.

Wu Fan had to take a sip of water before answering because his throat, all of a sudden, felt like a desert wasteland.

“Business stuff,” he said. It was true, since he was starting to be burdened with all the going-ons of his family’s business now that he was an independent adult. He knew that Yixing already had a handle on these matters earlier on, when he worked part-time in his family’s company during college.

“Fun.” Yixing nuzzled into Wu Fan’s neck like an over-starved affectionate puppy. Wu Fan was staring at the screen blankly because he forgot what he had been doing and now he just needed to remember to keep breathing like a normal human.

“Yixing,” Wu Fan gritted out. “I don’t – You’re – ”

Yixing looked up, and their eyes met, and the comfortable atmosphere morphed into something that made Wu Fan feel like having a headache because it was too early in the morning for this.

“What, Wu Fan?” Yixing asked softly, his eyes looking like dancing flames.

“You’re – ” And still he couldn’t form a full sentence. Instead, he wound an arm around Yixing’s waist so that they were facing each other fully, and almost instinctively, Yixing leaned in. “You’re insufferable.”

Then they were kissing, lips trembling against each other’s, small puffs of breaths exhaled out before Wu Fan leant in for more more more, always more. Yixing looked ethereal, with his fingers tangling up in Wu Fan’s hair like he had fantasized about this moment millions of times already, and Wu Fan felt like there was electricity traveling from the tips of Yixing’s fingers and jumping into the nerve endings of his skin.

In between their tongues tangling together, Wu Fan pulled away long enough to gasp, “I’m being selfish, aren’t I?”

Yixing pulled him back in, murmuring that if he was being selfish, then so was he.

Wu Fan couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was someone better for Yixing than himself but then Yixing erased those thoughts with the taste of his lips, and tongue, and skin until Wu Fan couldn’t think anything but how Yixing looked and felt.

It was until much later, when Yixing was tracing strange patterns on Wu Fan’s body that Wu Fan realized that maybe Kyungsoo was right when he said that the two of them were kind of idiots.

“This means we’re not getting a divorce, right?” Wu Fan felt anxious as he asked that, like the reply would either break or make him the happiest man on Earth, which it would.

“I hope not,” Yixing said, coy smile in place he placed a kiss to the back of Wu Fan’s hand much like Wu Fan had done years ago.

Wu Fan let out a strangled noise in response.

“So yeah, we’re together together now,” Wu Fan said with his heart in his throat, hand gripping Yixing’s tightly. Yixing squeezed back.

All of their friends gave them an unimpressed look.

Luhan threw his hands up. “Only to yourselves. I personally believed that you guys were pretty much together since high school.”

Everyone else made noises of varying agreement.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun practically snickered. “I mean, Kris was pretty much as whipped by Yixing as he is today.”

Wu Fan opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it and hung his head, knowing that he couldn’t protest against something that was true.

Yixing gave him a comforting peck at the corner of his lips, and Jongdae pretended to gag.

“You guys are exactly the same except for the extra PDA. Tone that down please because I just ate lunch,” Jongdae said.

Wu Fan stuck his tongue out at him.

Life with Yixing wasn’t perfect, because they often argued over nonsensical things, like how they argued over the amount of cheese Wu Fan had put into dinner last night. They fought often, but most of the time, they weren’t serious. And the times when there were serious fights, the longest record was three days before they started bickering normally again.

Wu Fan still felt his heart swelling at random moments, like when Yixing had flour on his nose or when he was pulling weird faces at Jongdae’s turtles, and felt the gratitude that out of everyone in the world, Yixing chose him to be with.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” his mom had told him after a family dinner. This time, it could finally be qualified as a true family dinner (instead of two totally different families that ran rival fruit companies coming together) because Wu Fan and Yixing were the glue holding all of them together.

“Me too.” Wu Fan grinned before giving his mom a sentimental hug.

An Unconventional Love Story [1/2]

flameflowerful — Tue, 01 Jan 2013 03:27:29 GMT

Summary: They weren't meant to be, because arranged marriages didn't work.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 7,852
Pairing: Kris/Yixing
Author notes: I feel like stabbing the livejournal shitty format in the face right now. But other than that, content that I finally finished the Krislay oneshot (twoshot?) I wanted to start two weeks ago.

Yixing pulled at the tie that was threatening to choke the life out of him. Or maybe it was just the suffocating situation he was in currently. Business acquaintances (important ones, his parents keep reminding him) peered at him with smiles that were so fake, they made him want to puke. He looked over at his companion, whose lips that were twitching downwards indicated that he was as uncomfortable as he was.

“I feel like vomiting,” Yixing murmured, nudging the man beside him. “May I deposit all my stomach fluids over you, Wu Fan?”

Yixing winced but hid it with a frozen smile when he felt a finger jab into his side.

“I don’t get why you choose me to be your victim when there’re plenty of people in front of us to puke over, Xing,” Wu Fan said from the corners of his mouth, smirking a little at the twitch that was induced by his painful poke.

“But it’s your fault,” Yixing whined, and then shut up when another crowd of people surrounded them.

“Hello,” Wu Fan said to the Cho couple, who were incredibly influential with their kitchenware conglomerate. The two men smiled at them, and Yixing felt a tiny bit more relaxed because he’s known them his whole life.

“Stop looking so tense, Zhang Yixing. And you too, Wu Yi Fan,” Cho Kyuhyun said with a stern tilt and mismatched mischievous glint in his eyes. “We need you both alive for your own engagement party.”

Sungmin, on the other hand, had his amusement written all over his face. “Congratulations on the engagement, you guys. When’s the wedding date?” He said it with a tint of mockery because everyone who had dropped by the couple had said the same thing.

“You know that this was kind of against our will. Stop making fun of us,” Yixing said, pouting a little.

“But you two bicker like a married couple already,” Kyuhyun said with a straight face. Sungmin flashed his husband a sweet smile for going straight for the jugular. Wu Fan was scowling like there was no tomorrow, and Yixing jabbed at his side this time (revenge muahaha), because they should be used to this teasing already.

“I think it’s time that we greet both of your parents now. Have fun with your domesticated bliss,” Sungmin said, taking Kyuhyun’s elbow and steering him away from them.

Wu Fan’s eyebrow was still twitching (reminding Yixing eerily of a caterpillar) long after the couple left. His shoulders slumped down, letting out a small groan that only Yixing could hear. The creases on his tuxedo were showing and Yixing bet that he himself looked no better off.

“This engagement was in no way my fault. The ones who arranged this marriage were our parents, remember?” Wu Fan said. Yixing snorted.

“How could I ever forget? Everything is always your fault anyway.”

Wu Fan’s terrible eyebrows scrunched down. “Even when it’s raining?”

Yixing looked at, truly looked looked at Wu Fan since the beginning of this fiasco of a party, at the way his tie matched with the texture of Wu Fan’s nose and how the chandelier lights reflected sparks in his dark brown eyes, and swallowed. “Especially when it’s raining.”

The first time they met, when Yixing was seven and Wu Fan was eight, Yixing had punched Wu Fan right in the face.

To be fair, Wu Fan did just take one look at Yixing and said, “You look like a girl.”

Yixing was not going to take that comment lightly. Utilizing all the knowledge he had earned from what little martial arts classes he had taken so far, he socked Wu Fan pretty painfully considering his skinny and weak frame.

Both of their families, who had been socializing with each other and leaving the two to play on the sides, freaked out when they saw sweet, innocent Yixing standing over Wu Fan with a scary scowl on his face. Wu Fan had clutched his nose and then cried for his mommy.

To say that they got off on a good start would be far from the truth.

They didn’t understand, back then, what their parents meant when they had nudged the two together and said, “You guys will be married years from now. Get along, okay?”

Of course, Wu Fan then had to go and insult Yixing. A beautiful start to a beautiful relationship, really (note the sarcasm).

It was only much later did both of them realize what an arranged marriage meant, and why their parents had pushed them together in the first place. Both of their families ran successful, yet rivaling companies that produced “fresh, organic” fruits. Seeing as the companies hindered each other in their sales, they decided on a mutually beneficial partnership that was sealed with an arranged marriage between the heirs.

Yixing scrunched up his nose in disgust when his mother had tears in the corners of her eyes as she gushed about what a wonderful idea it was, to complete a business arrangement with love. He had not dared to approach his mom about questions about family business matters anymore after that, because she got a little too emotionally attached to such things.

Arranged marriages didn’t work. Yixing knew that. Sure, in the past, they might have occasionally been successful, but this was the modern times. How could an arranged marriage work when regular marriages took sweat and tears to shakily hold together?

It wasn’t even like Yixing and Wu Fan were in love anyway.

Yixing knew that Wu Fan hated having his life controlled for him. The arranged marriage was just another aspect of taking the control away from him.

Yixing tried to fit his whole mouth around his Popsicle as Wu Fan kicked at the grass of his backyard. They were eleven and twelve, respectively, sweat running down their backs yet they still refused to go back into the luxurious house that was blasting air conditioner in every room. Family dinners (more like, business dinners) were such a bore. They had them every month, and one of the worst things about them was that they were the only children there. Yixing suspected it was a scheme to get them closer together (they had mandatory play dates too, where instead of shaping the clay-doh together, they often tossed it at each other – which often escalated into all-out wars).

Wu Fan kept droning, in different pitches and tones: “Boooooored” and Yixing had half a mind to toss his Popsicle stick at Wu Fan’s head and see if he would screech entertainingly like that time Yixing had stuffed a snowball right down his pants.

They were both around the age where girls with tinkling laughter would catch their eyes. If not girls, then maybe pretty boys with prettier smiles. Wu Fan stopped his monotonous droning to toss a stick into the small pond. The stick created ripples in the water, scattering the startled goldfish.

“I want to be able to choose who I marry,” Wu Fan said in a petulant tone. “It’s not fair.”

“I don’t want to marry a stupid dunderhead like you, anyway,” Yixing said.

“I am not!”

“Am too.”

“Am not!”

“Am too.”

And it continued for a whole minute or two, as you could probably imagine. They still hadn’t learned the infamous trick of saying the opposite of what they meant to get the opponent to say what he didn’t want to say.

After the exhausting word battle, both of them lied on their backs (their mothers would cluck at them later for getting their hair dirty again) and watched the lazy clouds swim across the sky. Only at times like this, they were quiet, which happened rarely since chaos seemed to just erupt whenever the two were together.

Yixing put a hand up to the sky to block out the sun’s glare and marveled at how his hand seemed to be holding the blue, blue sky up.

“Xing?” The nickname had sprouted up a year ago, because Wu Fan had claimed that it was too exhausting to pronounce all two syllables of Yixing’s name.

“What?”

“Why is the sky blue?”

Yixing scrunched up his whole face, and thought hard. “Because the sea vomited all over it.”

“What is with you and vomiting?” Wu Fan whined, which was true, because when Wu Fan had asked him why the grass was green, Yixing had said that the trees had thrown up all over it.

“Because it sounds more mature than saying that the sea pooped all over it.”

“Eeeewwwwww.”

In a strange sense, they were childhood friends. Sure, forcefully-shoved-together-childhood friends, but childhood friends nevertheless. Both of their parents treated Yixing and Wu Fan like they were their sons-in-law already. That was why Yixing wasn’t even surprised to see his mother and Wu Fan standing outside of his middle school.

“Wu Fan’s having dinner at our house. His parents are overseas for a business trip,” his mother said. Wu Fan made an exaggeratedly weird face at Yixing, and Yixing returned the favor, even rolling his eyes to stare at his nose. Wu Fan pouted a little, seeing as he lost the competition to make the strangest face possible, at least for today.

“Yixing, you forgot your pencil,” Sulli said from behind Yixing. She was holding out his favorite Little Ponies pencil, and Yixing flushed.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly timid, and reached out for the pencil.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and smiled the prettiest smile Yixing had ever seen and he stared after her as her ponytail bounced when she walked away.

Later, when they were walking home and his mom was busy talking on her phone, Wu Fan nudged Yixing with his elbow. Yixing instinctively elbowed him back. Rubbing the bruised place, Wu Fan was still grinning at him.

“You liiiiiike her,” he said.

“Who?” Yixing decided to play innocent.

“You know who.” Wu Fan’s eyes narrowed. His grin got scarier.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yixing looked at the horrendously clipped bushes as if they were the new volumes of his favorite manga.

“You should go for it.” Wu Fan’s voice lowered and he suddenly looked serious. “Ask her out.”

“WHA – no.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” He looked like he was going to tease Yixing again.

Yixing made a huffing noise. “N-no. Our parents probably wouldn’t allow it, anyway.”

Wu Fan raised an eyebrow. “Only if they knew.”

Yixing stopped walking. Wu Fan dragged him forwards with his hand around his wrist. “Oh my god. You’re genius,” Yixing said.

“I am, aren’t I?” Wu Fan looked a little too smug.

This was one of the first times that Yixing was hit by the realization that his parents weren’t omniscient creatures. After a silence in which Yixing contemplated his method of asking Sulli out (should he bring in balloons and then give them to her? He saw that on a Youtube video once) and they kept walking.

“You could, too, you know,” Yixing said.

“¿Qué?”

Yixing glared at Wu Fan for his use of Spanish. As if learning Korean, Cantonese, and English weren’t enough already.

“I meant, you could ask someone out too. If you are interested in someone right now, that is. Are you?” Yixing fidgeted with his coat buttons.

“No. But I probably will like someone in the future.”

“I heard there will be a lot of hot people at high school,” Yixing said, in his weird way of comforting Wu Fan.

Wu Fan scoffed. “None as good looking as me, of course.”

“Okay, now I’m pretty sure your narcissism will chase everyone from ever dating you.” Yixing smirked. As always, it was his job to stomp Wu Fan’s ego into tiny, little pieces.

“If it weren’t for the food, I wouldn’t be walking home with a meanie like you,” Wu Fan said.

A week later, Yixing finally summoned up the courage to ask Sulli out to prom. Right after, he crashed into Wu Fan’s room, dizzily repeating, “She said yes! She said yes!”

Wu Fan stuffed his head underneath his blanket because he was napping, goddamnit, and said, “Go bother your other friends.”

Yixing responded by sitting on top of the wriggling mound that was Wu Fan wrapped up in a blanket, and poking any squishy parts (he hoped that wasn’t his eye. It had happened before) he could find. “But they already know. You’re the only one who isn’t going to the same school.”

“Well, congratulations. Now let me sleep.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Be quiet or go away.”

Yixing fell silent, and then started flipping through all the magazines that Wu Fan had. He reached down the cabinet to shuffle through another stack when he held up a book and started laughing hysterically. Wu Fan sat up with a groan.

“I give up. How could I ever sleep when you’re in the room?”

“You have – ” Yixing was gasping for breath. “You have Chicken’s Soup for the Soul. Ohmygooood.”

“Heeyyy! Handle it with care. Care, do you hear me?”

“I bet you cry when you read this book.” Yixing stared at Wu Fan when he just shifted in his bed and didn’t deny anything. “You do. This is gold.”

“They contain very emotional stories, okay?” Wu Fan leapt up from his bed to wrestle the book away from Yixing’s grabby hands.

“I can’t. I literally can’t,” Yixing said, still breathless with laughter, not even trying to fix his tousled hair.

“Dinner will shut you up,” Wu Fan said, pushing Yixing towards the door.

When it came down to it, Sulli and Yixing only lasted five months. Yixing’s friends had patted him on the back consolingly, saying that it was a relatively long relationship, considering the other relationships in their school that often lasted as long as a fruit fly’s lifespan. The problem was that Yixing didn’t seem to have enough time for his girlfriend, and she complained that he had so many family dinners and spent more time with a boy called Wu Fan than with her.

And she didn’t even know that Yixing was sort of engaged with Wu Fan, and that it was kind of a family obligation to spend time with him (by now, though, it felt like habit just to hang out with Wu Fan and talk his ears off). Only Yixing’s and Wu Fan’s closest friends knew about the engagement thing, but they’ve been sworn to secrecy.

Going into high school was scary, but was helped by the fact that this time at least, Wu Fan and Yixing were going into the same high school. Having already experienced a whole year of high school there, Wu Fan helped Yixing to get familiar with the ins and outs of the rumor grapevine and introduced him to some of the upperclassmen.

“So that’s Wu Fan,” Luhan said as he watched Wu Fan’s tall figure part the crowd before him like the red sea.

“What’s with the tone?” Yixing asked.

“You never told us that he was hot,” Kyungsoo said, and everyone stared at him. He blinked. “What?”

“I swear, Jongin is infecting you,” Yixing said.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Our poor innocent Kyungsoo, corrupted!” Luhan sobbed dramatically, hugging Kyungsoo to his chest. Kyungsoo’s eyes were wide, almost popping out of his sockets. Everyone in the hallway stared, shook their heads, and muttered, “Freshmen.”

“Guys, guys, calm down. We’ve got class to go to,” Baekhyun said, turning his schedule upside down as if that will help him find where his classroom was.

At lunch, Wu Fan immediately bee-lined for Yixing and his group of friends to drag him (by the back of his neck) to his table.

“Chanyeol, everyone. Everyone, Chanyeol,” Wu Fan introduced. “The rest are not important.”

Chanyeol, who happened to be the lank, tall sophomore, smiled slowly and widely at them. From his right, Jongdae yelped, “What do you mean, not important? Oh hi Yixing, we’ve met before. In Kris’ house.”

“Jongdae, right?” Yixing smiled, and then raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Wu Fan. “I still can’t get over that horrible nickname you came up for yourself.”

“It makes me sound cool,” Wu Fan said, but he was pouting.

“Wow. Hi, I’m Minseok, and I’ve never seen Kris pout before. You’re something else, Yixing,” someone with (cute) chubby cheeks spoke up. He gave a friendly smile to Yixing, eyes tinged with a little awe.

“Your cheeks,” Luhan said with the same kind of awe (but obviously for different reasons). “Ohmygawd.”

Yixing immediately pitied Minseok, because he was immediately assaulted by Luhan’s suffocating presence as he begged him to just allow him to give his cheeks a little (just a little) pinch.

Kyungsoo and Baekhyun returned with their lunch trays, also staring at Minseok in pity. “Well, that gives me freedom from Luhan, at least. A sacrifice is a sacrifice,” Kyungsoo said.

Staring at his unappetizing food in front of him, Yixing sighed at yet another year of eating cafeteria food. He poked the chicken leg, thinking that it looked edible at least. Of course, the sliced apples in the plastic bag were emblazoned with his family’s logo. Another chicken leg suddenly plopped on his plate, and Yixing looked up to see Wu Fan’s infamous scowl.

“You need to eat more meat,” Wu Fan said. And then a pile of broccoli followed. “And vegetables. You’re too skinny.”

“That’s just an excuse for you to dump your broccoli onto my plate because you hate broccoli.” Yixing scowled back at him. “Not cool.”

Meanwhile, both groups of their friends were staring at them like they were the new zoo exhibit. It was first time, for most of them, to see the two interact with each other (even though they’ve heard a lot about the other from one of the two).

“I didn’t expect it, but Kris is actually the nagging wife,” Jongdae said with widened eyes.

Luhan, tired from grappling with Minseok, rested his chin on his hands. “Yixing is usually very nice to everyone. I think this is one of the first times that I see him actually insulting someone.”

“Lovingly insult,” Baekhyun added.

“What? I heard my name.” Yixing looked at them with a suspicious gaze, tearing himself out of the argument he had just gotten into with Wu Fan. His friends greeted him back with the faces of angels.

“Nothing,” Luhan chirped. “Nothing at all.”

“They were just talking about how perfect you guys looked together,” Kyungsoo said, ignoring the kick he got from Luhan under the table.

“It’s true. You guys fit very well together,” Chanyeol joined in.

It was with horror that Yixing realized that they were going to be teasing him and Wu Fan for the rest of the school year (or maybe their entire lives, if possible). Wu Fan faced this realization by burying his red face into his hands.

The whole lunch table was silent, and Yixing stopped in his tracks to stare at them because they were never, ever, quiet. It had been a year and a half since they all started eating together, and there was always someone commenting on something.

Yixing looked up to check that the sky hasn’t fallen.

The worst thing was that they were all staring at Yixing as if his pet had just died or something.

“Okay, now that I’m properly freaked out, please tell me it’s April Fools,” Yixing said, sitting down. He stared at the consoling hand that Luhan put on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Luhan said.

Minseok, sitting next to Luhan, sighed. “We’re not sure how to break it to you, Yixing, but…”

Just then, Wu Fan came prancing over with his hands intertwined with a boy who had dark semicircles under his eyes.

“Guys,” Wu Fan said, his eyes bright. “This is Tao.”

“Oh,” Yixing said. Luhan’s hand squeezed his shoulder.

Wu Fan and his new boyfriend sat down to eat lunch while Yixing was still blinking his disorientation away. So someone did come along for Wu Fan, finally, and Wu Fan met his eyes. Yixing mustered up all his strength to smile at him, because it was nice that Wu Fan found that someone that he was waiting for, and Yixing didn’t know why he felt numb, like he had stuck his fingers into the freezer for minutes before he got them out.

The table was welcoming towards Tao (who was just the cutest thing, blinking at them nervously and squeezing Wu Fan’s hand in anxiety), and Yixing made sure to give him a warm smile.

“So how did you two meet?” Yixing asked, because no one else in the table seemed to want to broach the subject.

With a gentle nudge from Wu Fan, Tao spilled his guts about how he was trying to find the library when Wu Fan came along and saved him. And before he could go on about how they started dating, Jongdae jumped right into the conversation.

“Oh, so you’re a freshie? Interesting. You haven’t heard of Freshman Friday that’s happening the end of the year, have you?” Jongdae gave him an extra evil grin as he twirled the ends of his hair with his fingers. Tao looked sufficiently terrified, and Wu Fan reassured him that it was just a school myth.

Yixing felt a little confused, because he wasn’t sure what to say or do now that he didn’t have Wu Fan to verbally abuse right now. He turned his head to join in on a side conversation that Chanyeol and Baekhyun were having about talking pineapples.

It struck Yixing by surprise.

He was blown out of balance, shaken and he didn’t know how to get his world to stop spinning. Luhan looked at him with a worried expression when Yixing stumbled to stand next to him, eyes on the ground and lips compressed into a thin line.

School had just ended and the students were milling about, oblivious to what had just happened.

“What’s wrong?” Luhan asked. Yixing shook his head, smiling with a little strain.

“Nothing.”

That wasn’t true, really, but what could Yixing say when he was still reeling from the cracks in his chest? He hadn’t expected to catch a sight of a couple leaning close to each other, foreheads touching intimately, when he had walked out of the door. It had taken him a few seconds to recognize the dyed roots of Wu Fan’s hair and Tao’s signature jacket. Yixing had stood, frozen like a still-life painting, wondering why his hands were shaking, wondering what the sudden lashing of heat emerging from his ribs was.

He wondered what it would be like for Wu Fan to look at him like that, with dark eyes softened by adoration.

Without a word, Luhan tugged Yixing to his favorite bubble tea shop. Yixing closed his eyes as he sipped the tapioca bubbles from his honey green tea.

They tasted a little bit like heartbreak.

Part Two

There Were Moments of Gold (Part Two)

flameflowerful — Sun, 18 Nov 2012 00:38:58 GMT

It took awhile for Yixing to get adjusted to Kris’ presence almost every time their group gathered together. It was weird because that meant Kris was becoming a constant in his life again, just like he used to be. He could tell that Lu Han was clearly attracted to Kris, and Kris seemed to show interest in Lu Han as well. Yixing wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

He was beyond ecstatic because his friend was happy and that was all that should matter. Plus, he got to wheedle chocolate cake and more brownies out of Lu Han’s cheerful mood. But then there were these moments, these brief seconds where Kris said something and he felt like he was being pulled out of his own skin. At times their eyes would meet and Yixing would feel a twinge in the middle of his chest, and he would look somewhere else before it became a feeling that had to be acknowledged.

It set his teeth on edge.

“Wonderful,” Yixing murmured to himself when somehow he ended up alone with Kris in the kitchen while the rest where either Mario Kart-ing or yelling into the players’ ears. They were adults who didn’t know how to be adults.

“Could you get the chips in that cabinet above your head, Kris?” Yixing asked. Kris opened the cabinet and reached in, coming out with the chips with Lay’s brand printed on the cover.

Before he handed it over, Kris asked, “Why not still call me Wu Fan?”

Yixing’s hands involuntarily clenched. “I don’t know. That’s what everyone else is calling you nowadays.” He didn’t see the point in including that by calling Wu Fan by a different name, he could pretend Kris was a different person. Saying Wu Fan would remind him of too much of the time when Wu Fan was still his Xiao Long, his little dragon.

Kris stepped closer and set the chips in front of Yixing. Yixing kept his head turned slightly away from Kris, even though every cell of his body was responsive to how little distance there was between them.

“Don’t mess this up,” he found himself saying before he could help it. Kris paused, and Yixing knew Kris was tilting his head without looking at him. He supposed that was the thing with knowing someone more than he knew himself for two whole years. He could still instinctively sense the expressions on Kris’ face even after all this time. “You know what I’m talking about. Lu Han likes you a lot. You like him too, don’t you?”

He didn’t want to admit that he was holding his breath waiting for the answer. A quiet, “I think so”, squeezed his chest more than he expected.

“Good,” he said, even though on the inside he felt the opposite. He picked up the bag of chips and walked past Kris, taking care that they didn’t touch.

~~~

“And you still don’t call this a date?” Yixing asked, exasperated. “It’s the two of you, in a movie theatre, alone. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, yes,” Lu Han replied absentmindedly, adjusting the wrinkles on his shirt in the mirror. “Does this look okay?”

Yixing sifted through the pile of clothing that was laid out on Lu Han’s bed. He picked out a crimson jacket, and held it out to Lu Han. “Wear this. His favorite color is red.”

“What would I do without you?” Lu Han asked, taking the jacket from his hands. “It’s like I have insider’s information about Kris now. And I told you many times already, Kris and I are still friends. This is hanging out. Sort of. I’ve talked with him about this, and he wanted to take it really slow as well. Isn’t that just perfect?”

“Stupid, more like,” Yixing said.

“Tell me. What was he like when you dated him?” Lu Han looked at him with his guileless eyes.

An uncomfortable feeling clawed its way into Yixing’s chest. As much as he tried to avoid thinking about that time, it still seemed determined to carve its way through his heart. “He was really dorky. Everyone thought he was really cool and admired him for his basketball skills, but when we were alone… He could be ridiculously soft one moment and intense on the other.”

Yixing tried to choke out more words but they refused to come. The images from those years, from hot licking kisses to silly pillow fights, swam up before his eyes. He shut them, doing his best to block them out.

Lu Han was looking at him with an unidentifiable expression. “He wasn’t really like that with me. He’s polite and always composed.”

“People change,” Yixing said. “Or maybe you guys just need to get to know each other better.”

Lu Han frowned, but Yixing was already pushing him towards the door. “Come on, you’re going to be late for your date.”

“I told you, it’s not a da – “

“Yeah, yeah. Like I’m going to ever accept that. Good luck and have fun!” Yixing shut the door, and leaned his back on it. He tipped his head upwards, and slowly slid down to the floor. The initial trigger that was Lu Han’s question about his past relationship with Kris had seemed to set off a flood of some sort. His mind was providing him with unwanted images: the wondering look on Wu Fan’s face the first time that Yixing had whispered-screamed for more, more please Wu Fan, and when they were soaked to the bone from an unexpected rainfall and ended up dancing in it instead, and that one time Yixing hacked into Wu Fan’s online game account and remade the character into a girl – oh yes the expression on his dragon’s face had been so priceless. Xiao Long – Little Dragon – that was the nickname he liked to use all the time back then. He liked the way Wu Fan’s eyes would soften up at the sound of it from his mouth. His body couldn’t help but ache for the way he used to fit perfectly into the contours of Wu Fan’s body, when it felt like their souls were sliding into place as well, like they were made for each other.

Kris and Wu Fan smiled in the same way. Kris’ past self was just as aloof-looking on the outside as Kris was now. Yixing could bet that if he dug just a little deeper, this Kris would still be like the playful and passionate Wu Fan he used to know. He still had that niggling urge to close the distance between himself and Kris every time he saw him. He was a helpless moth circling a bright lamp flame, and even with the knowledge that he was going to be inevitably burned, he couldn’t help but want to flutter closer.

Yixing’s chest hurt and his eyes stung with each breath he struggled to draw in. There was a reason he had locked up all the memories of him with Wu Fan into a tiny box and stored it deep, deep down. Now that the lock was burnt through by acid, the sudden flooding of memories was a bit too much for Yixing to take.

“Shit,” he said, and then laid his head on his knees.

~~~

Their love had burned white hot, consuming them until only the husks of their bodies were left. But it had cooled and dropped below freezing point as fast as it heated up. Yixing could still recall each slice of pain he felt as they were falling out.

He ran his hand through his hair, struggling to get his mind into the real world. Work had drained him earlier, and he had difficulties coming up with innovative ideas for the spring collection. It seemed that the more he tried to push Kris out of his mind, the more Kris forced himself in.

At this moment, people were flocking into tiny groups, talking amongst themselves with plastic soda cups in their hands. Junmyeon was in the middle, practically glowing as the birthday boy. Yixing observed as Jongdae ran an inconspicuous hand Junmyeon’s back down to his ass. Junmyeon flushed as Jongdae skipped away with a tiny smirk.

Yixing snorted with amusement, and he looked around. Junmyeon’s apartment was small, but it was able to fit the 20 people or so that Junmyeon invited.

He spotted Kris’ distinctive brown hair (he would’ve spotted him even with black hair in a huge crowd, really) at the other side of the room. The intensity of the longing tightening his throat caught him by surprise. He felt like a train crash waiting to happen as he watched helplessly as Kris’ eyes wrinkled slightly in response to something Lu Han said.

“You’re crushing the soda cup,” Minseok said, appearing by his side. Yixing jerked slightly, and he looked down. The Sprite in his cup had spilled over onto his hands and his fingers were sticky now.

“I should wash my hands,” Yixing sighed.

“You were watching Kris and Lu Han, weren’t you?” Minseok’s eyes were dark in a stormy kind of way.

There was no use in denying it when he had been so obvious. “So what if I was?”

“It’s okay,” Minseok said. “I understand.” He smiled briefly, took a lingering glance at the two that Yixing were watching, and walked away.

Yixing stood there for a moment, momentarily disoriented, and then headed into the corridor where the bathroom was located. He ran his hands underneath the lukewarm water, and reached for the soap.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said right behind him. The soap flew from his hands, up into the air spectacularly, and landed on the floor.

“The fuck,” Yixing said. “Kris, you scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry.” And there was that mischievous glint in Kris’ eyes that Yixing remembered so well. He bent down to pick up the soap and deposited it onto Yixing’s outreached hand. “I just needed to go to the bathroom.”

It tingled like crazy where Kris’ fingertips touched Yixing’s palm. Yixing concentrated on staring at the soap in his hands – he was afraid of Kris seeing more than he should in his eyes. He quickly washed his hands, and wiped them on the towel next to the sink, his hair tips on end because he was conscious of Kris’ heavy gaze on him the whole time.

“You’re wearing that sweater,” Kris said quietly. Yixing looked down and noticed that he was wearing a red cowl neck sweater. His cheeks flushed as he remembered owning a similar sweater when he was in university. Kris had informed him, while pressing heated kisses down his body and pressing cool fingers in places he didn’t even know existed, that seeing him wear it drove him crazy. “The way it hugs your body like that, it makes me jealous. I want to be that fucking sweater,” Wu Fan had said. Yixing had laughingly tugged Wu Fan’s hair and called his boyfriend a weirdo.

That memory alone made blood rush up to Yixing’s cheeks and southward as well. He bit down on his lower lip, hoping that his thundering heart beats couldn’t be heard by Kris. They were so close (it was a small bathroom, fitting for a small apartment) that Yixing could smell Kris’ chamomile tea scent, and that familiar smell made his stomach do somersaults. “It’s a different sweater,” he said, and rushed out of the bathroom quickly because he didn’t know what he would do if he had stayed there a little while longer with a man who could drive his senses haywire with one look.

Yixing downed a cup of Coke, even though that wasn’t enough to cool his body. He looked for Junmyeon because he hadn’t been able to wish him a happy birthday yet (accompanied by a suffocating hug), but instead he saw Lu Han and Minseok standing together. He took one glance at Minseok leaning close to Lu Han as if he was the air he breathed and at the stars in his eyes – and knew. I understand, Minseok’s voice echoed in his head. Yixing couldn’t believe he missed it before; it was so obvious the whole time but he had been so blind. Minseok was harboring a one-sided love towards Lu Han.

Much like Yixing with Kris.

Yixing’s hand shook slightly as he recalled his earlier bump-in with Kris. If he had moved just a little closer, if he had turned his head a little, their lips would’ve met. He would’ve probably been pushed away a second later, but –

He cut his train of thought. It was much too dangerous to be thinking, much more fantasizing, about this.

He swirled the brown liquid in his cup as he waited for the birthday cake to be brought out.

The worst thing, he thought, wasn’t even that he was falling for the same person again. It was the knowledge of how brain-melting and soul-sucking their kisses used to be, and the fact that he would probably never feel that again. The first time he fell for Kris, it felt like he was flying down towards Earth through the stratosphere like a meteorite. This time, it was like bubbling magma was running through his veins, in a torturously slow manner that he wasn’t sure he could handle much longer.

~~~

Everyone had looked up with shocked expressions when Kris laughed out loud for the first time in front of them. It was a full-bodied laugh that shook his body with mirth. Yixing had been complaining about his day when he mentioned wanting to strangle a man who let his Labrador run free in the streets. The dog had almost mauled Yixing (he was exaggerating, as usual) in his eagerness to get at the paper bag that he was holding, which contained muffins.

Yixing had also stared, wide-eyed, at Kris’ reaction. There was that indescribable pain mixed with pleasure tightening around his ribs again, which seemed to happen around Kris way too often nowadays. Being away from Kris made the oxygen he breathed feel like cardboard paper, while with him, it felt like he was tightening a noose around his neck yet desperately wishing for one more glance, one more smile at the same time.

“You really haven’t changed,” Kris said, sipping on his over-sugared coffee with an awkward one eye squint and a satisfied smile.

Yixing looked down on his latte, trying to remember the proper way to inhale. Lu Han had on that mysterious expression again.

~~~

“You’ve been very strange the past few weeks,” Lu Han said. Yixing stuffed his face into the freezer as an excuse to not look at his friend. He came out with a tub of ice cream.

“Work had been tiring lately,” Yixing said.

“Not just that.” The tone that Lu Han used seemed to imply that he already knew exactly why Yixing was being weird.

“Ice cream?” Yixing held a spoon out to Lu Han. Lu Han shook his head.

“I’m going out soon,” Lu Han said.

“What? It’s a weekend. Where are you going?” Yixing stabbed the spoon into his ice cream, trying to get through the thin layer of ice that had gathered on the top.

“On a date.”

Yixing tried to pretend that those three words did not affect him as it really did. But it was really hard to fake an emotion when there were sharp needles going through his heart. He didn’t trust himself to say anything without his voice cracking, so he just stuffed a spoonful of pistachio flavored ice cream into his mouth.

“With Minseok,” Luhan continued. Yixing’s hand jerked just so that the spoon smacked right into the middle of his forehead.

His gob smacked expression must’ve been comical to look at, especially with the spoon sliding down his face, because Lu Han started hysterically laughing. He gently pried the spoon from Yixing’s forehead, and wiped the ice cream away with a paper towel.

“Did I hear that right? You’re going on a date with Minseok?” Yixing asked, still shaken by the revelation, and the weird cool spot on his forehead wasn’t helping any.

“Affirmative.”

“He asked you out?”

“Negative. I finally got the hint that he liked me, and I asked him out.” Lu Han’s eyes sparkled.

“What about Kris?” Yixing couldn’t help but blurt out.

“That’s for you two to work out,” Lu Han said. Before Yixing could say anything else, Lu Han was hitching a bag on his shoulders and heading out to their door. Yixing followed him like a baby duckling.

“I - I don’t get what’s going on,” he said.

“You will, soon.” Lu Han smiled, and opened the door. He blinked as when Kris stumbled forward with the door. Yixing gaped. It looked like Kris had been lying against their apartment door.

“Hi Kris, bye Kris, and good luck,” Lu Han said, and then flounced out the door, closing the door on the two of them with a malicious grin on his face.

“I feel like I’m in a Kdrama,” Yixing muttered to himself.

“Hi Yixing,” Kris said.

“Hi Kris.”

They stood for a minute or two in awkward silence.

“Ice cream?” Yixing held the ice cream out towards Kris.

“Sure, why not.”

They ended up sitting on the sofa, sharing the ice cream with two spoons. Yixing was watching Kris carefully for any sign of heartbreak, when Kris looked back at him and he froze.

“Do you remember what we fought about seven years ago?” Kris asked. Yixing hadn’t been expecting this topic to be brought up, but he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration nevertheless.

“Sadly, I really don’t.” Yixing laughed lightly. “We were really angry at each other, though.”

“Yeah.”

Yixing could barely recall what they were yelling at each other about, just the fact that each fight escalated in intensity. They knew each other’s worst weaknesses, and since they loved each other so much, they also had the ability to hurt each other the most. They used to wield words like they were knives that cut deeply into their skins. Yixing emerged out of each fight feeling like a scarred veteran, worn down and beaten. The salty tears had traveled down both of their faces at one time or another during that tumultuous period.

They broke up, but that didn’t mean Yixing had ever stopped loving Wu Fan.

“How did you get ice cream on your eyebrows?” Kris chuckled, and reached forward with his hand to wipe it off. Yixing watched, entranced, as Kris licked his index finger clean.

“What do you want from me?” Yixing asked, feeling utterly defeated. Please, he thought, stop it. He didn’t know whether or not that thought was directed to Kris or to the hopeless longing he felt.

Kris looked startled by Yixing’s question. Then his eyebrows pushed down, and there was a darkening in his eyes. Yixing had seen those dark eyes many times before in the past, but he couldn’t believe he was seeing it now.

“What if I told you that I want everything from you?” Here Kris set the tub of ice cream on the glass table and crawled towards Yixing. Yixing sat transfixed like a stone statue. “That I want to breathe in your exhales again, that I want those evening walks along the park with you, that I want your heart? Would you reject me?”

Now there was just an inch between their lips, and Yixing shivered. It was really happening, he thought, because he could smell the sweet chamomile tea of Kris’ breath.

“You already have it, Xiao Long,” Yixing said, his mouth dry. “You already have my heart.”

Kris’ eyes blazed, and he closed the distance between the two. The kiss was wet and sloppy, and Yixing felt like he forgot how to properly kiss when Kris was flooding his senses like this – but it didn’t really matter since Kris’ hands were holding his hips firmly, just like how it was seven years ago except his hands were slightly bigger now and felt even warmer, if that was even possible.

They drowned in each other, and it was like Yixing’s body knew exactly how to move, how to draw the long and soft whines from the base of Kris’ throat. Still maintaining as much contact as possible, Yixing led Kris backwards into his bedroom. He could feel that they both wanted this, needed this, right now. There really weren’t any words necessary, instead their bodies formed a wordless conversation with each other.

I missed you, Kris’ tongue seemed to say as it lapped at the hollow space right above Yixing’s clavicle. Yixing’s hands responded back with equal fervor, caressing and traveling along the planes of Kris’ chest.

Before he could process anything else (his mind was at full overload), they were both naked, pressed flushed together. Yixing watched with a hot gaze as Kris rolled a condom on and lubricated his length. Yixing started babbling gibberish at the overwhelming feeling of Kris entering him. They melted together, and fell and flew at the same time, the exhilarating height driving them way up high, beyond the atmosphere. After Yixing reached his climax, shaking and trembling the whole time, he admired the beauty of Kris as he broke down as well. Kris collapsed on top of him, and they became a sweaty heap of two humans who were halves of the same soul.

“You’ve gotten heavier,” Yixing remarked. Kris swatted his side, and then leant in for another kiss.

~~~

“I got a promotion!” Jongdae gleefully exclaimed as soon as he entered the café. Junmyeon gave him a peck on the cheek for congratulations, which Jongdae pouted at because it was not enough.

“That means we should throw a party!” Lu Han bounced on his seat, which happened to be Minseok.

“Stop moving, god damnit,” Minseok complained, but he looked plenty happy with his arms around Lu Han’s waist.

“Another party?” Kris asked, not even batting an eyelash when Yixing stole his coffee for a sip or two.

“Why not?” Yixing smiled devilishly. “More food for me.”

Kris shook his head and wound an arm around Yixing’s shoulder. There was a warm bubbling kind of feeling rising in Yixing’s chest at that gesture, no matter how many times it happened. “I’m afraid my boyfriend is going to get fat soon,” he said to the rest of the gang. Chanyeol guffawed and Baekhyun covered up his smile with his hand.

Yixing glared Kris. “I have a very fast metabolism, thank you very much.” He then leant his head on Kris’ shoulder. He started playing with the strings on Kris’ jacket, eyes half-lidded. He was feeling on top of the clouds because he had finished designing the spring collection yesterday and Kris’ warmth against his side embodied everything that was perfect.

Apparently, he had found his muse. Or maybe his muse just needed to reappear again in the shape of his ex-ex-boyfriend.

There Were Moments of Gold (Part One)

flameflowerful — Sun, 18 Nov 2012 00:34:11 GMT

“There were those empty threats and hollow lies
And whenever you tried to hurt me
I just hurt you even worse
And so much deeper

There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things we'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than all your laws allow
Baby, Baby, Baby

When you touch me like this
And when you hold me like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
Then we see what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now”

- Céline Dion, “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now”

The whispering melody of the song flowed from his headphones into his ears. Yixing licked his dry lips and sighed as he was jostled with the commuting crowd inside the train. His eyes were closed shut as he dozed lightly while standing. The intercom announced his stop and Yixing jolted straight up.

“Excuse me, excuse me. Please let me through,” Yixing said. A middle-aged lady glared at him for bumping into her side, and he quickly apologized before stumbling out of the train doors.

His usual commute was unpleasant, but what could he do? Yixing kept his head down as his feet traced their way back to his apartment. His whole being was absorbed into the music, and he felt himself relaxing. A new order had come in earlier today, and his boss had demanded more designs. Yixing briefly scowled at the memory; designing clothes was an art that wasn’t supposed to be rushed. Most of all, it needed a muse, an inspiration of some sort.

He raised his arm for a half-hearted greeting to his doorman (who tended to suck on some kind of lollipop each time he saw him. Yixing privately worried that Kyungsoo was going to get cavities one day) and rushed into the elevator right before it closed. He stopped in front of his door, and instead of opening it first, he pressed his cheek against the cool wood and put his arms across the door in a strange octopus-like hug.

“Home sweet home,” he said, and then finally pulled out his key before his neighbors come out and find out that he was weirder than they already thought he was.

A wave of sweet scent overwhelmed Yixing’s senses as he stepped foot inside his apartment. Curious, Yixing took off his shoes and padded into the kitchen. Leaning on the kitchen counter with his fist under his chin, he lazily examined his roommate’s current state. Lu Han’s hair was all fluffed up, giving him a cute bunny-starved-from-carrots kind of look, and his lips were pursed.

“What’s the occasion?” Yixing asked, alerting Lu Han of his presence. Lu Han set down the bowl of whipped cream and wiped his hands on a hot pink apron that Baekhyun laughingly gifted him during Christmas. Lu Han had looked horrified when he first saw it, but now he was horribly attached to that abomination.

“Nothing much,” Lu Han said lightly. “I’m making brownies.”

Yixing snuck a quick finger in, sniggering when his friend was too late in slapping his hand away. Licking his finger clean from the cream, he nodded his approval, but side-glanced at Lu Han with a furrowed brow.

“You haven’t made desserts since Sehun,” Yixing commented. Lu Han stiffened at the sound of his ex-boyfriend’s name.

“Well, I just felt like it,” Lu Han huffed. “What’s wrong with that?”

Yixing hummed in a pacifying manner and circled around Lu Han like a vulture. His careful eyes took in the slight flush to his roommate’s cheeks and the excited spark in his eyes that he was unable to hide.

“Spill it. Who is it?” Yixing sampled another bite from the bowl.

Lu Han threw his oven gloves at Yixing, which bounced off his head. “Damnit, I really can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“Roommates for three years and five months.” Yixing wiggled his fingers. “Of course I would know when you meet a new guy. You always start baking when you like someone.”

Lu Han’s cheeks seemed to have accumulated more blood. He snatched the bowl from the table, most likely trying to occupy his hands with something to do. “We’re not dating. Yet,” he added.

Yixing’s lips curled up into a feral smirk. His inner self clapped and cheered; he had been worried that Lu Han hadn’t been able to get over the Sehun Era. Now there was hope. “Details, Lu Han. Details.”

“We met, we exchanged numbers, and we said that we would hang out later. That’s it.”

“Hang out? Don’t tell me, you were the one who said that. You were supposed to say ‘I want to go on a flaming hot date with you and then we fuck’ instead. Not hang out.”

Lu Han leaned against the cabinets. “I want to take it slow, starting from being friends. And oh my god, you sound so sexually frustrated right now, you know that?”

“Shaddup.”

Lu Han laughed, and Yixing raised his eyebrows in wonder.

“Wow,” he said. “You really do like this guy. I haven’t heard that laugh since, like, forever.”

Affronted, Lu Han said, “What? I so do laugh.”

Shaking his head, Yixing smiled. “Not like that.” He leaned forward as the need to fuel his gossip girl tendencies rose up inside him. Lu Han widened his eyes in fear. “So tell me, my dear friend. What’s he like? Tall, dark, and handsome? Maybe even a mysterious and centuries-old vampire?”

“Okay, you’re ridiculous. I don’t even know why we’re friends.” A ding resounded from the oven, and Lu Han fished a pan of brownies from the inside while pushing close the oven with his hips at the same time. “His name is Kris. He’s not a vampire, I think. Jeez, I’d hate to be in a Twilight novel. Yes to mysterious. Yes to handsome. Not really dark-skinned, if that’s what you meant. And hell yes to tall.”

Yixing fluidly moved into the vicinity of the brownies, pouting slightly when Lu Han swatted his fluttering hands away from the pan.

“Wait until they’re cooled,” Lu Han said.

“So how did you guys meet?”

“Are you seriously interrogating me? I feel like I’m in the police interrogation room.”

“Well, I need to know everything because I know you’ll refuse to say anything during our weekly hangouts with the rest of the gang, even when Chanyeol bothers you by poking you in the stomach repeatedly. Thus, it’s my job to provide the juicy information.”

Lu Han sighed resignedly, but started talking anyway.

“The cashier mixed our lunch orders up. I ordered the pistachio chicken sandwich, while he got cranberry Greek salad. So there I was, staring at the disgusting salad on my tray, when he approached me. We got to talking, and we agreed to meet up another time.” Lu Han’s happiness was contagious. Yixing found himself grinning.

“Oh man,” Yixing said. “This is just like Sleepless in Seattle.”

Lu Han quirked an eyebrow. “You and your old movies. I’ve never watched it.”

“In the movie, the main character also got her orders mixed up with another guy’s order, and they got engaged. Then – “ He stopped, and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah.”

“Then?” Lu Han prompted.

“That’s what happened. That’s it,” he hastily said. He had forgotten that Meg Ryan and the other guy separated because they were just not fated to be together.

“Okay,” Lu Han said slowly. He prodded the brownies with a finger. “I think they’re ready now.”

“Thank god. I wasn’t able to hold back any longer.” Yixing found the cutting pizza tool and dug it into the delicious smelling and looking dessert.

~~~

A few weeks later, Yixing was softly rapping to himself as he arrived home earlier than usual. He blinked when he saw Lu Han rushing up to him with a wide grin.

“You got off work early too?” Yixing tilted his head, confused. Lu Han tugged on his jacket sleeve.

“No. It’s technically my lunch break right now,” Lu Han said, and then leaned forward. He whispered, “Kris is inside the living room. I, erm, accidentally spilled coffee over his shirt, so he’s borrowing one of mine.”

“Oh,” Yixing said, thinking that he understood. “Okay. I’ll leave right now.”

He retreated, only to be tugged forward violently.

“What?” Lu Han hissed. “Why are you leaving?”

“Huh? I thought you, you know, accidentally,” here Yixing made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, “spilled coffee on him as an excuse for inviting him into our apartment. I must say, I quite approve of your ingenious method. Now, I’ll just leave you to your bonding time.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“No!” Lu Han was a little vehement in the denial, and he quickly slapped a hand over his own mouth because the sound startled both of them. He slowly took it away, and exhaled. “It was honestly an accident. I got distracted by how shiny a woman’s earrings were and wasn’t looking.”

Yixing didn’t bother hiding his snort. “That’s so you. Does that mean I can meet him then?”

Lu Han gave him a small smile. “Since you seemed so eager to know about my nonexistent love life, I thought that your curiosity should be quenched by meeting him. So that you could stop bothering me everyday.”

“And that is where you are wrong, my friend. My curiosity is comparable to an endless ocean.” Yixing clasped Lu Han’s shoulder dramatically.

“You suck at metaphors.” Lu Han shook his head, and encircled his roommate’s wrist with his hand. “Come on.”

Yixing didn’t know what to expect; he had always visualized a dark-haired anime guy whenever Lu Han brought Kris up (because Lu Han seemed to come straight out of a manga and he deserved a boyfriend who was just as… Unrealistic-looking). So that was why he raised his eyebrows when the first feature he spotted was a mop of light brown hair, not the black hair that he was imagining.

Kris was sitting on the couch, his back facing them. Yixing’s eyes traced down the smooth slope of Kris’ shoulders and his hands curled around the glass of water. There was a familiarity with the way Kris was slouching, head slightly bent at a certain angle. An inexplicable feeling rose up in Yixing’s stomach. It was like that mind blowing epiphany that happened when he figured out the intricacies of an important design, except this was an epiphany that he didn’t want to happen.

He felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lu Han looking at him questioningly because he had stopped in his tracks out of nowhere. However, he was unable to tear his eyes away from the man sitting on the sofa.

~~~

“Whatcha up to?” Baekhyun asked, leaning backwards so that his head bent over the wooden chair. He squinted to see an upside-down Chanyeol.

“Alphabetizing our CD collection,” Chanyeol said, holding one CD case with long fingers and waving it.

Baekhyun flipped his body over so that Chanyeol no longer looked inverted. He put his chin on the back of his chair. “I see. I didn’t know you listened to that type of music.”

Chanyeol blinked, and stared at the Michael Jackson CD in his hand. “I don’t, usually. I think Yixing gave me this years ago. He was pretty crazy about this guy.”

“Was that before we met?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol nodded.

Baekhyun sat on his hands because they felt cold. “My first impression of him was that he was a solemn, quiet person. It’s sad how far off I was.”

Chanyeol grinned. “Everyone who’s met him says that.” He set down the CD. “I’m a little worried, though. He’s dated lots of people in the past few years, but they never seemed to last that long.”

“Maybe he’s still searching for someone.” Baekhyun looked into his partner’s eyes, feeling the deep affection rising up inside him. His expression must’ve showed something, because Chanyeol leant forward and brushed his knuckles against his cheeks.

“Maybe,” Chanyeol allowed, and he looked at Baekyun’s shoulder with an introspective gaze. “I’ve only seen him in love once.”

Baekhyun straightened his spine in shock. “This is the first time I’ve heard of this.”

Chanyeol sighed and shook his head. “It was a long time ago. From what I can remember, he fell hard and fast.”

Baekhyun scratched at the material of the couch, trying to imagine what a Yixing in love was like, but failed to. He wondered who was special enough to steal Yixing’s elusive heart.

~~~

“Wu Yi Fan,” Yixing breathed.

Kris looked up, and their gazes connected. Kris, no, Wu Fan, didn’t seem to have changed a lot – other than the obvious hair dye job and the confidence that radiated off his broad shoulders now. Yixing had thought he had forgotten his face after so many years, but he suddenly felt like he saw that face just yesterday.

Kris opened his mouth slightly in surprise. “Yixing.”

Lu Han was at the side, staring at the exchange between them. “Huh? Whuh – You already know each other?”

Yixing, relieved for a distraction from Kris’ intense gaze, turned to Lu Han. “We attended the same university,” he said.

“We used to date,” Kris said at the same time.

Yixing watched in dismay as the information sunk into Lu Han’s head. Lu Han’s eyelashes fluttered as he pointed from one to the other. “You,” he jabbed a finger at Yixing, “and you,” he swung his finger in the direction of Kris, “used to be together?”

“Something like that,” Yixing mumbled.

“Wooow,” Lu Han said, eyes wide. “What a coincidence.”

Yixing smiled weakly in response. He was doing his best to ignore the presence of his ex-boyfriend in the room. The side of his head felt like it was scorching under Kris’ scrutiny, though.

His fingers were twitching, urging him to get away from this place right now. He took in a shaky breath, and attempted to smile.

“I think I forgot something at my workplace,” he said. That was the lamest excuse ever. He would be surprised if they couldn’t see through his blatant lie. Without a second glance at Kris (because it felt like he was running without a finish line whenever he looked at him), he waved at Lu Han and tailed the hell out of there.

~~~

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t,” Lu Han kept saying. Yixing frowned at him.

“I don’t see how Kris being my ex-boyfriend would affect the relationship between you two,” he said mildly.

Lu Han turned to him and made a strange face at him. “There is no relationship between us. I just think it would be kind of awkward because you guys were… Intimate in the past.”

Yixing shrugged. “The past is the past. I have plenty of exes – and if you refuse to date my exes, then you’re narrowing down your pool of potential boyfriends a lot. That would make me sad.”

Lu Han narrowed his eyes. “You’re being conceited about the amount of boyfriends you have had again.”

Yixing smiled slyly. “It’s true. You can’t deny it.”

A change flew over Lu Han’s expression, and he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. “Then is it okay if I invited him to our next hangout?”

Yixing stared, caught off-guard, but quickly covered it up with a warm smile. “Of course. I’m sure the rest of our gang are dying to know who’s your next boyfriend-to-be.”

He was happy with the fact that Lu Han seemed lighter, almost floating in air, after meeting Kris. He shoved away the discomfort that welled up in him whenever he thought of Wu Fan, because that wasn’t worth thinking about.

When he said that their group of friends was excited to see Kris, he was just joking. What he didn’t expect was them to be actually uncharacteristically excited about the prospect of meeting him.

“Well of course we want to meet him!” Junmyeon said, slapping the table with each word. The coffee cups on the table shook precariously. “This means he’s finally moving on from the Sehun Era. I need to approve of this young man.”

Yes. They all referred to the time Lu Han dated Sehun as an era. They were sitting in their usual corner of the cozy café, hands being warmed by hot chocolate or coffee.

“Why do you sound so old each time you open your mouth, Junmyeon?” Jongdae said, smirking when Junmyeon tried to slap him but missed.

“Well, have you met him yet?” Baekhyun ignored the other two in their mini-cat fight and directed the question to Yixing. Before he could say anything, the shop’s door jingled, signaling the arrival of new visitors. They all perked their heads up, and in walked Lu Han and Kris.

Chanyeol shouted an invisible exclamation mark, so it sounded like a strangled cat threatening to tear its way through his throat. He stood up and pointed at Kris. Yixing, already expecting the reaction, pulled Chanyeol back down.

“What are you doing here?” Chanyeol asked, before he connected the dots in his head and his jaw dropped open. “Wait, are you Lu Han’s – “

Baekhyun covered Chanyeol’s mouth before he could say anything else, sighing at his boyfriend’s lack of tact.

“It’s been a while, Park Chanyeol,” Kris said. His smile was slanted and Yixing’s breath hitched because he forgot how devastating it was.

Chanyeol still seemed like the world’s axis had flipped in the last few seconds. He finally said, while darting his eyes to Yixing’s blank expression and back to Kris: “Same, Wu Fan.”

“Wait, that Wu Fan?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrows way up high. Yixing just wanted to groan and disappear. Chanyeol really did tell him everything, didn’t he?

Junmyeon and Jongdae, who had finished their customary tussle of the day, looked like lost puppies with their fluffed up hair and confused expressions.

“What do you mean Wu Fan?” Jongdae demanded. “I thought his name was Kris.”

“I’m a man of many identities,” Kris said, and then chuckled at his own sentence.

Yixing wanted to roll his eyes. Kris was as lame as ever, despite the outward composed shell around him nowadays. Chanyeol, next to him, was silent for once and was looking at Kris contemplatively.

The bell jingled again, and they all turned their heads to see Minseok unwinding his scarf from his neck.

“Hey, sorry I’m late guys, the traffic was…” Minseok paused when he saw Lu Han standing next to someone he didn’t recognize. He stood there for a moment, as if at a loss for what to do, and then stepped forward.

“Hi, I’m Kim Minseok,” he said, holding his hand up. “You must be Kris.”

If his voice was a little strained, no one questioned it.

Kris accepted the hand shake, nodding. “That would be me.”

Junmyeon propped his chin on Jongdae’s shoulder. Yixing found it perplexing but amusing how they could fight one second and act all touchy-touchy the next. “That’s right, you guys. Where are your manners? Learn from Minseok,” Junmyeon said in a patronizing tone. He flashed a smile at Kris. “Welcome to our secret hangout place.”

Baekhyun faked a cough, which was more of a laugh because a café wasn’t very secret place at all.

Junmyeon ignored him. “We also tend to go to each other’s apartments, most of the time Baekhyun’s and Chanyeol’s because they have a Wii.”

Yixing could tell that Kris was a little startled by the readiness they welcomed him into their group, which had been formed four years ago. He was shuffling his feet a little in that flustered way that was so completely Wu Fan. Yixing hid an amused smile behind his latte.

Part Two

Not Your Typical Fairy Tale Part 2

flameflowerful — Sat, 17 Nov 2012 21:16:37 GMT

Donghae couldn’t get the memory of Hyukjae’s emerald heart out of his mind. He had almost stuck chicken pieces on his face because he was aiming his fork at his cheek instead of his mouth. Hyukjae wasn’t sitting at the dining table like he usually did, but Donghae knew that revealing what was probably a huge part of Hyukjae to him took its mental toll on the wizard.

Donghae didn’t get why Hyukjae chose him to show his actual heart to him. As he wandered around the castle, for once not trying to find the Princess, he found himself lost in thought. Donghae dropped his head down in tiredness (he had been walking around the castle like some kind of creepy ghost), and leaned against the wall.

He was, all of a sudden, disoriented as the wall he was leaning on gave way. Donghae let out a startled cry and found himself on his back. He slowly got up, wincing from the stinging pain of hitting the floor like that, and brushed himself off. The part of the wall that he had leaned on turned out to be a separate section from the rest of the wall.

“A secret door?” Donghae asked himself. It wasn’t like anyone was going to respond to him, but it was a bad habit.

The corridor before him was smooth and painted in a pale lilac color. Donghae found himself walking in before he could even think about it. He emerged into a rectangular room full of hanging chandeliers. The crystals on them shimmered and reflected light everywhere. There was someone sitting in one of the cushions on a really comfortable looking couch.

“Is that you, Hyukjae?” The person on the couch, a girl apparently, looked up from reading a magazine. She was quite pretty, with long wavy hair. The girl blinked in surprise when Donghae awkwardly shuffled on the carpet of the room. He felt like an intruder (which he very much was). After glancing around the luxurious room and then staring at the girl on the couch, Donghae came to the conclusion that she was probably the Princess he was searching for. Still, it didn’t hurt to ask.

“Are you… Erm, the Princess?” Donghae asked. He sounded so much like a gangly teenage boy that still hasn’t hit puberty yet that he cringed on the inside.

“You must be Lee Donghae.” The girl laughed; it sounded like spring and fairy bells combined together. “Yep, I’m Princess Sunny.”

Donghae kind of just stood there rooted in shock (he was doing that an awful lot recently). He couldn’t believe that he had finally found the Princess. Now he had to… What was the next step again? Oh yeah, he had to rescue her so that they could ride off into the sunset together. Right. Before, that thought had made him feel tingly and excited because he had always aspired to be a Princess’ Prince Charming. Now, Hyukjae’s face and fiery hair was all that popped into his mind.

Sunny was patiently waiting for the prince in front of her to regain his senses. Various emotions were flashing through his face, and she tried to restrain herself from chuckling in amusement at how confused the young prince looked. Donghae was really a real cutie, and she was happy to finally meet the man who brought out so many emotions from Hyukjae. Whenever Hyukjae dropped by for their daily tea ritual, he would start ranting about how annoying his new guest at the castle was. Sunny just listened to him with a soft smile. Before Donghae had come along (and tripped on thin air, Hyukjae always reminded her), Hyukjae’s smile were obviously forced and faked. Now his eyes would light up and his lips would curve up without him realizing it as he launched into a story about something crazy that Donghae did again.

“You must be here to rescue me.” Sunny felt enough pity on Donghae and started to talk. Donghae just nodded dumbly.

“I’m honored that you came this far, but I regret to tell you that I don’t need to be rescued,” Sunny said, setting the magazine on her lap aside. She sighed at the look on Donghae’s face and patted the spot in front of her. “Sit. I’ll tell you everything.”

It turned out that Sunny was living at the castle of her own free will. She had met Hyukjae in her city, and knowing of Hyukjae’s magical prowess, she asked him to ‘kidnap’ her away. Her parents were forcing a marriage on her that she didn’t want, so it had been an impulsive decision on her part to ask for Hyukjae’s help. Donghae absorbed all this with wide eyes. It turned out that he had done all of the traveling and searching for nothing.

Sunny watched Donghae’s reaction as she finished her story. Telling all this Donghae was risky, because he would probably leave now. She didn’t want that to happen, because Hyukjae looked so happy with Donghae around. Unless…

“I’ll let you take me back to my kingdom in two weeks. I know that my parents are probably worried sick, seeing as they sent so many random princes (Donghae winced a little) after me. I’m going to tell them the truth, and then threaten to be ‘kidnapped’ again if they still force me into random marriages I don’t want,” Sunny said. She was confident of this plan, as it was already formed in her head. This would also keep Donghae here for another two weeks. Two birds with one stone.

A bright smile formed on her face as Donghae nodded.

“I found the Princess,” Donghae said in the library. Hyukjae dropped the book he was holding, and didn’t even cry out in pain as it thumped on his foot. Donghae advanced closer in worry.

“What? How?” Hyukjae asked. He had set up a hidden door that was not easily found, even if a professional door-finder (yes, this was an occupation) had scoured the whole castle. Donghae scratched the back of his neck a little bashfully.

“Err, I was leaning against the wall and it just kind of opened,” Donghae said, complete with hand gestures. Hyukjae just groaned. Of course, anything was possible with Donghae. Donghae bent down to pick up the book that was still on Hyukjae’s foot.

“Well?” Hyukjae asked. Donghae blinked up at him and straightened up.

“What?”

“Why aren’t you out of the door with her on your horse? I thought you came here to rescue her. Why? Were you waiting for my permission or something?” Hyukjae felt bile rise up in him as he lashed out.

“Sunny said she doesn’t want to go yet.”

Hyukjae turned so that he wasn’t looking directly at Donghae, feeling unreasonably hurt, weak, and everything else he had never felt before. Donghae clutched his arm and Hyukjae flinched at the blazing trail Donghae’s touch had ignited on his skin.

“Why did you agree to help her?” Donghae asked. Hyukjae could’ve lied, but it was hard to lie to Donghae, for some reason.

“I was hoping that she could melt my heart,” Hyukjae finally said.

“Oh.”

“When are you leaving then?” Hyukjae’s voice turned subdued, and he turned his head to look at Donghae, sorely regretting that action as Donghae’s gaze made him feel hot and cold at the same time.

“Two weeks,” Donghae said lowly. Hyukjae’s inner voice cried out that that was too little time, that no, Donghae would leave him in two weeks, he couldn’t allow that –

“Alright.” Hyukjae kept his voice from shaking, even though he felt like his whole self was collapsing right now. Something ached inside, and he didn’t understand why or how. All he knew that it was kind of hard to breathe right now, so he just took in shallow, silent gasps. Donghae’s gaze skittered away from him, and he left the library quietly after setting Hyukjae’s book on a nearby table.

Hyukjae’s legs stopped supporting him, and he sat on the floor.

“Tell me,” Donghae said. “Tell me how you feel.”

Hyukjae gasped as Donghae’s tongue left a trail of burning saliva on his neck. He wrapped his arms around Donghae’s body, trying to press them together until they were one breathing being.

“Donghae, Donghae, Donghaedonghaedonghae,” Hyukjae said.

“Tell me,” Donghae insisted and pressed a kiss on Hyukjae’s collarbone that made him practically shake in need. Hyukjae inhaled and opened his mouth.

“I love you.”

Hyukjae jerked out of his dream, blankets twisted around his legs. A lone tear had snuck out of the corner of his eye and traveled in a salty path down his cheek. Every part of his body was trembling, and all his mind did was to replay that dream in a never ending loop. He hadn’t dreamt in years, much less a dream this intense. Hyukjae dropped his head onto his palms and silently wished with every fiber of his body for that dream to become real.

As he struggled to step out of the bed and readied himself for the day, he laughed bitterly at himself. Who was he kidding? There was no way that his dream would ever become real. It was a purely delusional thought. Hyukjae looked at his tear-stained face in the mirror. The villains never get a happy ending, and he was the Wicked Wizard. Donghae deserved to marry a beautiful Princess, and live happily ever after with her. Plus, he would never ever fall in love with Hyukjae. When Hyukjae thought that, it hurt so much on the inside that he felt like he was in actual pain.

Donghae felt guilty as he descended down the steps that led to the cave. He found out that Hyukjae had not locked the door after he had showed him his heart the other day. Donghae didn’t know why, though. Was Hyukjae shaken or distracted by something he found the other day?

Donghae still couldn’t fight the growing curiosity in him this morning and so, with a makeshift lantern, he had snuck into the stairwell. He had an irresistible urge to see Hyukjae’s beautiful heart again.

He almost dropped the lantern when he saw the heart. Part of the emerald was peeking out of the ice, and it shone brighter than he saw last time. The ice was slowly being converted into a puddle of water.

“I was hoping that she could melt my heart,” Hyukjae had said.

Donghae felt something stuck in his throat as he stared incredulously at the bright emerald in front of him. Had Sunny, with her bright and cute smiles, caused this?

It felt like there were tiny knives twisting into his heart. All he could think about was how amazingly gorgeous Hyukjae looked when he smiled that smile that showed his gums. Donghae felt sick when he thought about Hyukjae showing that smile to Sunny.

Donghae didn’t talk about Hyukjae’s melting heart when they were eating dinner. Sunny apparently enjoyed eating alone, although occasionally she would join them. Not this time, though. There was an undeniable tension in the room, as Hyukjae tried to ignore Donghae’s pointed eye contact attempts.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Donghae lost his patience and demanded.

“Does it matter?” Hyukjae shrugged. “You’re leaving in a week anyway.”

“That doesn’t give you an excuse to be a mean, horrible host.”

“If you’ve forgotten,” Hyukjae said as his voice and demeanor turned frigid, “I am the Wicked Wizard. I can treat you in any way I want to.”

Donghae had never heard Hyukjae refer to himself as the Wicked Wizard before. He frowned.

“You and I both know perfectly well that you are a warm, caring person. I don’t get why you always put on such an icy mask,” Donghae said.

Hyukjae didn’t understand why Donghae would always make him lose his composure like this. He hated it. He wanted to yell out that his icy mask was a defense that distanced himself from others, and that he was trying to hide behind it so that Donghae wouldn’t make his heart melt even more than he already had. Instead Hyukjae tried to ignore Donghae while steadily finishing his dinner.

Three more days. Three more days until Donghae rides out of Hyukjae’s life forever. Hyukjae traced the cracks in the emerald in front of him. The ice around his heart was now completely melted, but cracks have invaded its way onto the surface of the emerald.

His heart was breaking. Literally.

Hyukjae’s mind wondered if he would die if his heart disintegrated into pieces, which he knew would probably happen soon.

“So that’s where you were,” Donghae said. His sudden presence made Hyukjae whip his head around so quickly that he almost gave himself whiplash.

“Donghae.” Hyukjae saw the emerald pulsing at a faster rate and tried to use his body to hide his cracked heart. It was a futile attempt, since Donghae rushed to his side and caught a glimpse of the jewel.

“It’s cracked!” Donghae’s voice, ironically, cracked as he exclaimed that. “Why is your heart cracked? And it’s fully melted.”

“Shouldn’t that be obvious?” Hyukjae tried to not let the pain show through his face.

“It’s because you’ve fallen in love with Sunny, isn’t it?”

“WHAT?” Hyukjae looked so surprised at that question that Donghae widened his eyes, but he continued on anyways.

“Since she’s leaving soon, that must be why your heart is… Cracking. But you should tell her, and then she’ll stay for you. She likes you a lot.” Donghae felt his heart clench as he suggested this.

Hyukjae was still staring at Donghae in a dumbstruck manner. Then he finally opened his mouth.

“You’re an idiot.”

Then he left, leaving a very confused and befuddled Donghae behind him.

“An idiot,” Donghae mused to himself. “An idiot.”

He grabbed Yesung as he was walking by him in the kitchen and asked, “How am I an idiot?”

Yesung considered the question quite seriously. “It must be the expressions you make with your face.”

“I make idiotic expressions?” Donghae yelped, offended.

“No, you don’t!” Ryeowook jumped into the conversation, pinching Yesung for being rude. “They’re very cute expressions. Anyway, why are you asking this? Did someone call you an idiot?”

“Hyukjae did.”

“Oh.” Ryeowook blinked. “Why?”

“I don’t know! That’s what I’m wondering!”

“He must’ve had a legitimate reason for saying so,” Yesung said, with Ryeowook nodding along. “Think about it more. Come on, Wookie, I can help you with cooking that lasagna today.”

Ryeowook, distracted by the thought of cooking, beamed and started chattering about what kind of ingredients he needed. Donghae let himself out of the kitchen. He went into his room and belly-flopped on the bed.

Donghae tried to think of the legitimate reason why Hyukjae called him an idiot. He groaned, turned over, and rolled around on his bed. He couldn’t think of any reason. Hyukjae hadn’t told him whether or not he was going to confess to Sunny any time soon either. Donghae knew that he didn’t want to marry Sunny, even though her parents would probably insist on that (as that was one of the rewards for rescuing their lost daughter). Sunny and Hyukjae would look good together, Donghae thought sadly, a sour undertone underlining his thought.

It was when he was pulling his pants down to pee in his personal bathroom that all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly came together. Donghae pulled his pants up, mind racing and heart thumping with the revelation he just had. The hints and clues which had been right in front of Donghae’s face: Hyukjae’s cracked heart, his surprised face when Donghae had suggested that he was in love with Sunny, the many bright smiles on Hyukjae’s face directed at Donghae, the strange mood swings of Hyukjae… The list went on and on. Donghae hoped that he wasn’t wrong, because it was almost too cruel to get his hopes up like this, but he had to confirm it, he had to know.

Donghae was gasping like a fish when he had finally found Hyukjae in one of the many rooms in the castle. Hyukjae was gazing up at the night sky through a huge window in a dusty room that would’ve been perfect for hosting a dance ball. He turned around, staring in confusion at Donghae’s exhausted figure leaning against the doorway.

Donghae knew that maybe he should’ve planned some kind of speech to say to confront Hyukjae, but all he could think about was that maybe Hyukjae liked him, loved him even. He took long, striding steps forward until he was standing in front of the adorably confused wizard. The next thing he knew, he had captured Hyukjae’s lips with his.

Hyukjae tasted amazingly delicious. Donghae was pressing his lips insistently onto Hyukjae’s, afraid that this would be the first and last kiss they would ever have. He swore that he could almost feel tendrils of heat crawling from his lips down his neck to his whole body.

Hyukjae’s mind had shut down completely. He was kissing back with everything he had, a part of him wondering if this was a dream that he might wake up from soon. His eyelashes fluttered as his whole body sang with the feel of Donghae’s lips sliding wetly against his.

“What – What was that?” Hyukjae shakily breathed in and out when they (sadly) pulled apart.

“I believe that was what people call a kiss,” Donghae said, a teasing smirk on the corners of his mouth. Hyukjae still looked lost and out of his element. Donghae tenderly brushed Hyukjae’s cheek with his thumb and leaned in so that his mouth was next to Hyukjae’s ear.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m very much in love with you,” Donghae said. Hyukjae’s spine went rigid in shock and he clutched onto Donghae’s shoulders because his legs had just turned into noodles.

“Huh?” Hyukjae said eloquently.

Donghae felt anxiety attack his system. Maybe he had assumed wrong. Maybe he was an idiot for thinking that maybe Hyukjae could even like him like that –

All semblance of thought was lost when Hyukjae had apparently recovered himself and smashed his mouth onto Donghae again. They got lost in each other, gasps and silent moans ringing through the room.

“Am I dreaming? Donghae, am I dreaming?” Hyukjae kept repeating. Donghae replied no, this is real, believe me, my love, before kissing Hyukjae again.

Later, when they had entered the underground cave hand in hand, Hyukjae was telling Donghae about all of his insecurities.

“I thought I was the bad guy. I thought you would find a princess to marry and live happily ever after with. I thought it wasn’t fair that you were the one who made the ice around my heart melt when I thought you wouldn’t ever love me,” Hyukjae said, gazing in wonder at his emerald heart which was no longer cracked. It looked as good as new and shone with a brilliance he had never witnessed before.

“I would only want to live happily ever after with you,” Donghae said. He, too, was admiring Hyukjae’s healed heart. Hyukjae felt the emerald calling out to him, and he hesitantly reached his hand out to touch it. As soon as he made contact with it, it glowed brightly and levitated off the ice stand it was on. Donghae gaped as Hyukjae’s heart floated its way into Hyukjae’s chest, finally returning back to where it belonged.

Hyukjae gasped, feeling the warmth spread through his whole body as his heart restored itself back to him. He felt the steady thrum of his heart finally beating in his own chest.

“Thank you,” Hyukjae said while smiling shakily, embracing Donghae tightly.

Hyukjae shaded his eye from the blazing sun outside of the castle. He was helping Donghae and Sunny gather travel essentials for their journey back to Sunny’s kingdom. It was perfect weather outside for their trip.

“Stay safe,” Hyukjae murmured as he pecked Donghae’s mouth.

“I’ll be back,” Donghae said, smiling softly.

“I know,” Hyukjae said. “I’ll be waiting.”

“You guys are so cavity-inducing, I can’t even,” Sunny said, rolling her eyes with affection. With one last goodbye and hug with Sunny, Hyukjae watched as his lover escorted the princess back to her home.

Donghae immediately swept Hyukjae into a hug and kiss when he came back to Hyukjae’s castle, which he was already referring to as their home inside his head. Flowers, like blooming hyacinths and beautiful lilies, flourished in previously impossible places around the ice castle. Hyukjae had said that his magic reflected his emotions. Since the castle was being supported by his magic, gardens and greeneries have sprouted out ever since Donghae and Hyukjae have been together. The ice around the castle still remained, due to the climate of the land they were in.

After a few months of living together (and getting used to each other’s strange quirks and annoying habits), Donghae decided to take Hyukjae to his parents’ kingdom. Everyone at the palace was struck speechless at the fact that their prince had brought the Wicked Wizard back, as his lover no less. His parents had gaped for a full minute or two, before finally recovering and welcoming Donghae home. They took a few days to get accustomed to the fact that Donghae loved Hyukjae very much, but once they accepted Hyukjae, they took a strong liking to Hyukjae (“So adorable!” Donghae’s mom had squealed like a teenage girl). Hyukjae also charmed them with stories of how Donghae had tripped and fell (“Because you were just too beautiful,” Donghae joked.) on their first meeting. Donghae’s parents had insisted on planning a spectacular wedding for them, but Donghae and Hyukjae had refused, since they weren’t exactly ready for marriage yet. And they didn’t really want to have a huge wedding in their favor.

So yeah.

They lived pretty happy together in their ice castle, with a few visitors dropping in once in a while (Sunny was doing well, having met the love of her life in some foreign land on one of her travels). They didn’t live happily ever after, since every couple fought once in a while, but what really counted was that they were happy together.

Not Your Typical Fairy Tale Part 1

flameflowerful — Sat, 17 Nov 2012 21:09:03 GMT

Donghae patted his trusty steed.

“We’re almost there, Fishy,” he said. He shivered, drawing his princely red cloak tighter around him. The snow around here almost blinded him with its pristine brightness, and his breath created a fog in the air. The landscape was barren for the most part, except for a few fir trees that popped up every once in a while, heavy with blankets of snow.

Rising up in the distance was a castle that resembled a medieval tower. It was made fundamentally of ice, and reflected the sun’s rays almost brutally. However, Donghae still could not tear his eyes away from it. That was where his destined princess was imprisoned in.

He had to rescue her.

“Once upon a time,” he mused and nudged his horse to continue on forward.

The entrance to the castle was magnificent. It was, like the rest of the castle, pristine white in its iciness. There were flower engravings over the doors, as if the imprint of the flowers on the ice could bring on the pretense of spring. Donghae cautiously pushed open the doors, struggling against its heaviness and told his Fishy to wait outside for him.

Donghae drew his sword from its scabbard slowly, ready to face the Wicked Wizard who was said to reside in this castle. A lone figure stood in the hall before him, head turned away from him.

“Hi,” Donghae said awkwardly, and then remembered that he was supposed to be the knight in shining armor. He straightened up and then cleared his throat in order to speak in a deeper, manlier voice. “I mean, hi. I’m Prince Lee Donghae.”

The figure turned to him and Donghae lost his ability to speak. The man before him was covered with a hooded robe, but his red hair peeked out in a huge contrast to the whiteness around them. His face was exquisitely beautiful, but also chillingly cold. He seemed to belong to this ice castle, with his frigid aura pouring out of his persona. So this was the wizard whose heart was rumored to be frozen in ice.

“I suppose you are here to rescue the Princess as well.” The wizard’s voice was brittle and melodic at the same time. “Turn back now, because you will lose against me.”

Donghae huffed and brandished his sword at his opponent in what he hoped was a courageous looking pose. “I will not abandon the Princess. I have come this far and I will defeat you in order to rescue her.”

Hyukjae examined the prince in front of him. He looked weak, weaker than the other princes who had came before him. It didn’t really matter anyway, since he had the magical ability to defeat even the strongest man in the land. It was clear that this prince (Donghae, his mind reminded him) was nervous, but he still stared clearly into Hyukjae’s eyes. It was rare that someone would choose to make eye contact with him, seeing as almost everyone feared him and his magic. Slightly impressed, Hyukjae shifted to gather his magical energy into an attack that would blast the intruder out of his castle.

Donghae, seeing his enemy moving, raised his (anti-magic) sword and stepped forward to counteract the attack. Before he could fully put his foot down, he tripped – over nothing, really – and bumped into the torch next to him (thank goodness that torch wasn’t lighted since it was daytime). Hyukjae watched in slight disbelief as the torch bounced off the wall and collided with Donghae’s head. The prince was knocked sprawled onto the floor, unconscious due to the blow to his head. Hyukjae stared at the comatose man in front of him. It was the first time that someone who came to challenge Hyukjae knocked himself out.

Donghae woke up with a killer headache. His hand automatically looked for his sword as he tried to determine where he was. The room was covered with drapes, but the ice walls could still be seen. He was still in the castle. It was strange that the inside of the castle felt warm, even though there was ice and snow everywhere.

“I have temporarily confiscated your sword,” a voice said. Donghae, startled, looked up and saw the Wicked Wizard standing at the doorway. He squeaked in an embarrassing manner, and just huddled under the covers of the bed more. He didn’t really know what to do when his one and only weapon was taken away from him. The red-haired man was observing Donghae in an amused manner.

“I would advise you to leave now that you’ve woken up,” the wizard said.

“Fishy?” Donghae couldn’t help but ask. The other just stared incomprehensively at Donghae, and he had to elaborate. “My horse, he’s still alive, right?”

Donghae tried not to make his voice shake too much, because Fishy was his precious, favorite horsey.

“You named your horse – ” Hyukjae said slowly, and then seemed to think better of it. “Yes, your Fishy is fine. He’s in the castle stables. Now go home.”

Donghae pouted in an obstinate, obnoxious way. “No. I’m not leaving until I rescue the Princess.”

Hyukjae kneaded his temples in frustration at this stubborn prince. “There’s no point in you staying here if you can’t defeat me.”

Donghae flushed in mortification as he recalled how he had ended up blacking out. He even said an inspiring, princely speech before starting the battle. His whole family would tease him so badly if they ever hear of it.

“Let me stay, pleeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase?” Donghae decided to showcase his ultimate weapon, his puppy eyes. Never mind, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve even though his sword was taken away. Hyukjae widened his eyes at Donghae’s sad and adorable expression. “It took me five days to get to your castle. And I don’t want to fight the talking polar bears again. If you turn me away now, I’ll come back again. And again. And again.”

“You’re planning on coming back?” Hyukjae threw his hands up. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”

“My mom said my best trait is my stubbornness,” Donghae smiled, feeling victory close at hand. If he could convince the wizard into letting him stay, he could sneak around the castle and find the Princess. Then he could tail the hell out of this place, with his bride-to-be riding on their horse together into the sunset.

Hyukjae lost the staring contest with Donghae. He sighed, knowing that this brunette would come back to annoy him if he just tossed him out. Donghae would eventually get tired of trying to find and rescue the princess and go away soon anyway. Hyukjae had personally created a magical barrier around his castle that alerted him if the Princess went beyond it.

“Fine,” Hyukjae said.

“Thanks, umm,” Donghae said because he didn’t know if calling the red-haired man the Wicked Wizard would make him mad or not.

“Hyukjae. Lee Hyukjae,” Hyukjae said and then exited the room. Donghae looked around, patting his comfortable mattress.

“Well, I guess this is my new room,” Donghae said to himself.

“Hey!” Donghae froze in guiltiness when an unfamiliar voice called out to him. He probably wasn’t supposed to be skulking around in the castle, trying to discover which room the Princess was jailed in. A kind of short man was striding towards him, arms full of blankets.

“You’re the prince who knocked himself out before the battle started, right?” He said.

Donghae didn’t really appreciate being remembered like that, but he reluctantly nodded anyway.

“I’m Ryeowook, a servant at the castle,” Ryeowook said, extending his hand out while balancing the blankets in his other hand. Donghae warily shook it, wondering if there was some kind of trap involved.

“Donghae,” Donghae said.

“I know,” Ryeowook chirped, and then looked a little guilty. “I mean, everyone was gossiping about you.”

“Everyone?” Donghae wondered how many people there were that worked here. The castle looked so uninhabitable. Ryeowook nodded excitedly.

“It’s the first time Hyukjae allowed someone to stay here, so we were curious about what you were like.”

“Really,” Donghae said awkwardly. Ryeowook beamed and something wafted into Donghae’s nose.

“That smells really good,” Donghae said.

“I know. I cooked it, after all. It’s dinner time!” Ryeowook dragged Donghae with him in the direction that must be the dining room.

It was another huge hallway-like room that he was led to. The table was glistening mahogany wood, with plates and silverware already set on it.

“Enjoy,” Ryeowook said and then went into another room through a door. Donghae shook his head; he felt like this whole castle was some kind of unsolvable maze.

“Ryeowook took awhile to find you.” the icily beautiful voice said. Donghae realized that Hyukjae was already sitting at the head of the table.

“I was… Erm, in the showers,” Donghae said.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Hyukjae retorted, and Donghae cringed.

“Fine. I was exploring the castle.”

“You won’t find her easily.”

“I can try, can’t I?” Donghae said hotly, bringing a slight smirk on Hyukjae’s face.

“Dinner,” someone said with kohl lined eyes while carrying plates on his arms and hands.

“Thanks Yesung,” Hyukjae said. Yesung tilted his head at Donghae for a second, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t say anything else, though, and just left. Donghae felt a little surprised, because from the stories he had heard, Hyukjae was portrayed as an evil kidnapper. This Hyukjae actually had manners at least, despite his cold attitude.

Donghae quickly got distracted by the food laid out before him. He tried to stop the drool from coming out of his mouth.

“Ryeowook is a genius,” Donghae mumbled through his mouthful of food.

“Yah,” Hyukjae said. “Chew and then talk.”

“Can you show me the stables later? I want to see if my Fishy is okay.”

“Hmm.”

That wasn’t a no. Donghae smiled brightly before demolishing his food like a hurricane. Hyukjae picked at his food almost daintily, somewhat reminiscent of a refined lady. Donghae tried to suppress laughter at that sight.

“What?” Hyukjae huffed, a little cutely. Apparently a small chuckle emerged out of Donghae’s mouth despite his efforts to keep it closed.

“You eat like a girl.” Both Donghae and Hyukjae widened their eyes at Donghae’s statement. Donghae was thinking about how he had dropped his guard and started treating Hyukjae like a familiar friend. Great. Hyukjae was probably going to drop him dead with a bolt of lighting or something for that insult. To his surprise, Hyukjae just glared and stabbed a piece of fish almost viciously, but didn’t whip out any magical attacks.

“You eat like a whale,” Hyukjae retorted.

“I like whales,” Donghae said.

“Of course you do.” Hyukjae rolled his eyes. He was a little shocked at himself for falling into such easy banter someone he just met yesterday. Donghae had some kind of special quality in him to make him extra annoyed.

“That’s not very nice,” Donghae said, making Hyukjae widen his eyes even more.

“Did I say that out loud?” Hyukjae rhetorically asked.

“No, but you were glaring at me, and I can kind of guess that you think I’m annoying. It’s the same glare my siblings use at me. I’m done with my dinner. If you don’t want the rest, I can finish that as well!”

“How unpolite. Aren’t you supposed to be a prince?”

Donghae crossed his arms. “For your information, I can act very princely when I want to.”

“Right. Like that time you made the torch knock into your head.”

Donghae stomped out of the room in a childlike manner. “Stop mentioning that!”

Hyukjae turned his head to the side, glad that Donghae wasn’t there to witness the small smile on his face. The first real smile that he had possessed in a long while.

Hyukjae slowly finished his dinner, enjoying the fact that Donghae was waiting for him outside the dining room so that they could go to the stables. He exited the room finding Donghae with his face plastered on the cold window.

“It’s staring at me,” Donghae said. “What the hell is that?”

Hyukjae walked next to Donghae and peered outside as well.

“That’s a snowy owl. They hunt in the daytime,” Hyukjae answered.

“Its eyes are kind of creepy,” Donghae said, then turned to Hyukjae. “Stables. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“Yes. Your precious Fishy.” Hyukjae made sure to layer in the sarcasm into his voice, which made Donghae puff out his cheeks.

“He is very precious to me!”

“Then you better keep up with me,” Hyukjae said. He walked to the middle of the hallway, Donghae following instinctively behind him. Hyukjae snapped his fingers, and the icy strip in the middle of the hall started moving in a separate manner from the rest of the floor.

“Whoa!” Donghae ended up with his butt plopped on the moving part of the ice. Hyukjae enjoyed the dumbstruck look on his face.

“That was kind of dizzying,” Donghae said after their short trip to one of the castle exits ended.

“You talk too much,” Hyukjae said.

“It’s another endearing quality of mine.”

Donghae spotted a small stable ten feet away from them. He ran towards it, tripping (again. What was with that?), and then standing up again. Hyukjae just kind of stared at this strange specimen in front of him who laughing in a carefree way as Donghae’s horse whinnied at his owner. The way Donghae laughed was kind of captivating.

“Now, Fishy,” Donghae cooed, “Meet Hyukjae. Hyukjae, say hello to Fishy.”

Hyukjae cautiously petted the horse. Animals tended to dislike him, but this one just nudged at his hand with its head. It didn’t have any fear of him, just like its owner, Hyukjae thought.

“Fishy likes you.” Donghae looked satisfied, because he had an inner belief that anyone who Fishy liked was a nice person. Hyukjae shyly smiled at the horse as it head butted him in an attempt to sniff out any apples or candy cubes.

“I’ll bring one next time,” he promised, running his hand through Fishy’s soft mane. He didn’t notice that Donghae was standing in a star-struck manner, left speechless by Hyukjae’s pretty smile. A sudden desire rose within him to make Hyukjae smile like that again.

“Hyukjae,” Donghae said, and the way he said it sent a sudden shiver within Hyukjae’s core. Donghae then paused, and turned away. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It couldn’t have been nothing.”

“Now you’re the one being stubborn.” Donghae revealed his teeth a wide smile.

“Hmphft. You should be glad I like your horse or I would’ve thrown you out by now.”

“I thought we decided I was staying?” Donghae pursed his lips. Hyukjae’s hand twitched in the middle of petting Fishy. He had forgotten about why Donghae was here.

“Yeah.” Donghae tilted his head in confusion, because Hyukjae had retreated back into the icy shell that he was in when they first met. Hyukjae withdrew his hand from the horse, and started striding back to the castle door.

“Stay here as long as you want to. Ryeowook can lead you back to your room,” Hyukjae said.

A persistent knock on Hyukjae’s door interrupted his beauty sleep. It had been a whole week since Donghae had became a freeloader at his castle, and he had somehow found the location of Hyukjae’s room in his endless exploration. Donghae seemed to enjoy bothering Hyukjae whenever he wasn’t trying to search for the Princess.

“What?” Hyukjae called out, irritated.

“Hyukkie.” Donghae let himself in. Hyukjae just winced at the nickname that he had somehow acquired in the short time they had known each other.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?”

“It’s a cute nickname. I like it. I don’t get why you don’t,” Donghae said.

“You were interrupting my sleep,” Hyukjae said.

“The sun’s up in the middle of the sky! You’re a lazy butt for not waking up earlier.”

“Am not,” Hyukjae just muttered, and lied back on his bed, trying to ignore the intruder in his room. “HEY!”

Donghae had flung the covers off of Hyukjae, leaving cold air to rush against his skin. “Wakey wakey. I want to ask you about something.”

Hyukjae turned so that his face was covered by his pillows. He wanted to go back to sleep, even though he knew that Donghae would start singing and dancing in order to wake him up anyway, but he could at least try, right?

“Go ‘way.” Hyukjae’s voice came out muffled due to the pillow.

“But, but I found a locked door. I’m curious what’s behind it. I asked Wookie and the others, but they told me to go and ask you instead.”

Hyukjae jolted up from the bed, no longer sleepy. Unfortunately, Donghae was leaning over Hyukjae, so they ended up bumping foreheads.

“Ow!” They both yelped.

Donghae reflected on how hard Hyukjae’s head was, when he noticed that Hyukjae was looking kind of flustered and holding a bump on his forehead. He had never seen Hyukjae losing his composure before. It was, quite frankly, adorable.

“Are you okay?” Donghae fussed over Hyukjae like a chicken hen.

“I’m fine,” Hyukjae grumbled. It wasn’t often that he was surprised like that, although ever since Donghae had come to live (more like be a bum) at his castle, he kept getting shocked by the unexpected things that happened when Donghae was around.

Hyukjae reluctantly crawled out of his bed, and snapped at Donghae to get out of the room while he changed. Donghae scowled at him, but exited anyway, while mumbling under his breath.

Hyukjae’s hand almost shook as he put his favorite velvety robe on. He had decided to show Donghae what was behind that locked door, even though only a few people in the universe had ever seen it. There was something about Donghae’s warm golden eyes that made him want to trust him, though. Hyukjae exhaled, trying to get some composure back into his body, and then stepped out of the room.

Donghae followed as Hyukjae continued walking without a word. They approached the door, which was obviously old and the only thing not covered with ice. It was brown and rotting, but still held strong against time. Several jewels were embedded into the door, and as Hyukjae touched them one by one, they glowed and the locks unlatched themselves. Donghae stared in wonder, even though he had seen many magical feats done by Hyukjae from the many days he had stayed here.

The door opened with a light push by Hyukjae, and a stairwell down revealed itself. The steps were made out of stone, and Hyukjae took out an origami butterfly from his pocket. It fluttered from his hands, and then started glowing, illuminating the path before them.

“Onwards,” Hyukjae said.

Donghae took a deep breath and took the steps down cautiously. He didn’t want to slip and perform an encore of that time he had challenged Hyukjae. Hyukjae was right behind him, humming softly in what Donghae assumed was a spell to keep the butterfly glowing.

There were soft dripping sounds echoing through the stairwells, and Donghae had to hold in a gasp of rapture when they finally descended down the lowest level. There was a small reservoir of clear water inside the cave that they were in. Glittering stalagmites thrust out from the ground and the ceilings, some dripping drops of water.

“So beautiful,” Donghae said. Hyukjae traced the features of Donghae’s face with his eyes and inwardly agreed.

“That’s not what I wanted to show you,” Hyukjae said. The cave’s temperature was colder than the castle’s, and Donghae’s teeth were starting to chatter a little. Hyukjae cast a warming spell around them before walking forward, rocks crunching beneath his boots as he walked.

Donghae felt his breath caught as he saw an almost impossible sight before him. Beyond the small reservoir of water, there was a thick spear of ice jutting out of the ground. The ice was wrapped around something, something that pulsed with light like it was breathing. Hyukjae was standing in front of it, somewhat resembling a carved statue.

As Donghae got closer, he realized that the ice was wrapped around a block of dull, green rock.

“An emerald,” Donghae breathed and then jumped a little when his statement echoed around them. The rock swallowed by ice was a beautiful, unrefined emerald that seemed to have a life of its own as it continued to beat to its own pulse.

“That’s my heart.” Hyukjae’s voice was flat, like he was talking about some boring topic of sea fungus. Donghae found himself gaping in utter shock at the wizard beside him.

“Did I hear that wrong?” Donghae asked. “That… That’s really y-your heart?”

Hyukjae didn’t look at him. He just nodded.

Donghae swallowed and examined the emerald, Hyukjae’s heart, in front of him even more closely. There were many rumors and stories he had heard about Hyukjae, and the one thing most people liked to emphasize with wild gestures was that the Wicked Wizard’s heart was frozen in ice. Donghae had cast that off as an exaggerated detail that was obviously added in by some overenthusiastic storyteller. Never had he suspected that it was the truth. Hyukjae’s heart was literally frozen in ice.

“Why?” Donghae could only ask. Why was it frozen like that? How could his heart be a rock, for goodness sakes?

“My own mother did this to me,” Hyukjae said. He reached out to brush his fingertip on the ice that covered his heart. “She cast the spell on me believing that it was a blessing, that doing this would make me live longer because my heart would beat slower in ice. It did extend my age, but I’ve also lost the ability to…”

Donghae waited for the end of his explanation but it didn’t come. Hyukjae only inclined his head up at the ceiling as if he heard something.

“You should go up to lunch now,” Hyukjae said. Donghae, for once, didn’t push him for further information and left with a last, hesitating glance at the emerald. The origami butterfly left with Donghae, guiding him back to the upper floors of the castle.

Hyukjae let out an agonizing sigh as he continued starting at the thing that was supposed to be his heart.

I’ve also lost the ability to love.

Then he noticed something that struck a chord within his whole body in alarm. There was a drop of water running off the side of the ice slowly and tantalizingly. The ice around the emerald was starting to melt.

Part Two

Masterlist

flameflowerful — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 18:57:30 GMT

All of these stories are oneshots, ordered by pairing, and inside that category, by the least recent to most recent. For my chaptered fics and other oneshots I was too lazy to post on here, go to my AFF account.

Eunhae:
Confessions: "I love you," Hyukjae says as he stuffs another mouthful of cereal into his mouth. Donghae groggily moves to the refrigerator, not reacting.
Not Your Typical Fairy Tale: Hyukjae's heart was literally frozen in ice.

Changnew:
To Be Loved: He is a big-headed idiot. I reach that conclusion as I wipe my hands on the towel.

Min7en:
Making the Simple Complicated: Dongwook knew that rejecting him as soon as possible would hurt him less than just prolonging it. Changmin scowled. Darn that considerate, sexy bastard.

Kray:
There Were Moments of Gold : He was a helpless moth circling a bright lamp flame, and even with the knowledge that he was going to be inevitably burned, he couldn’t help but want to flutter closer.
An Unconventional Love Story: They weren't meant to be, because arranged marriages didn't work.

Krisyeol:
Molten Wax : Yifan felt that familiar thick taste of lust fill his mouth, although in these recent years, another flavor followed it. It was a bittersweet kind of flavor, one that whispered I could show you forever if only you'd let me.
Tears (and the art of mending): drabble. Chanyeol didn't want to fall in love with Wu Fan.
Take My Hand: The problem with having Kris as his stalker is that no one believes him when Chanyeol complains about it (also known as the story of a person conquering his own insecurities to find the true beauty in life).
5 Drabbles/Ficlets (with Suchen): Some short, some strangely long.
The Definition of Marriage: Being married to someone who loved someone else did not sound appealing to Chanyeol at all.

Sekai:
Tasting Colors: In a world where people see in black and white, Sehun dreams in colors.

To Be Loved

flameflowerful — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 18:49:56 GMT

Summary: In which Changmin is a player, and Onew is just hopelessly in love with him.

Onew’s Perspective:

He is a big-headed idiot. I reach that conclusion as I wipe my hands on the towel.

“Well? What are you still doing here? I’m closing down the place soon,” I demand.

“Aww, but I need help from the awesome Onew!” The only guy left in the café sitting in one of the seats says.

“Changmin,” I say in a patient but not so patient tone. Aka I am close to booting him out the door. “Not my business that you couldn’t find another girl to play with.”

“But there’s always cute girls in your café~” He grin.

“No. Just no. You are not allowed to stalk girls all day in my café. Go somewhere else to flaunt your player side,” I deadpan.

“Meanie,” Changmin just says. I don’t reply. He knows that I would let him do anything he wanted, even though I said otherwise.

“You just dumped another girl today. Can’t you just take a break for awhile?” I tiredly turn to him, leaning against the counter.

“I get bored easily.”

“Say anymore and I shall whack your face with one of my trusty pans,” I say. He only smiles, knowing I didn’t mean it.

“You’re a great friend.”

I stiffen slightly as he moves closer and embraces me.

“See you later,” he says. The bell tinkles as the door close behind him. I smile resignedly and move to turn the café sign so it would display ‘closed’ to the outside.

It’s just my luck to have fallen so hopelessly in love with him.

Changmin’s Perspective:

I whistle a jaunty tune as I walk down the sidewalk. A few people stare weirdly at me. Yeah, uh, actually, I lied. I can’t whistle for my life. I stop my sad attempt at whistling and just normally skip. What? Skipping’s not weird at all.

Onew is awesome. Yes, he is, for allowing me to continually scout for potential girlfriends in his café.

Okay, I am a player. I am actually, sadly enough, a little proud of it even. Although I can say in my defense that I didn’t intend to be a player. I just kind of got branded with that label after dating so many girls and breaking off with them when I get bored.

In short, I find it hard to fall in love.

Third Person Perspective:

“You just chased away one of my best customers,” Onew fumed.

“I’m sure she would come back,” Changmin tried to calm his friend down. They were in the kitchen, where he had been dragged into. The employees all filed out quietly; they knew an argument when they saw one. Most of them peeped next to the door, trying to catch most of the conversation.

“Sure,” Onew said sarcastically. “She just ran out of the door crying. Of course she would come back.”

“Sorry, I was just telling her the truth.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you could’ve phrased it better than ‘We’re over. I’m not in love with you in any way at all’.”

“She should’ve known!”

“That you were a player? Jeez, you keep getting those girl’s hopes up anyway even if they knew that. You have no idea – “ Onew suddenly stopped, as if trying to find the right words to say.

“What?”

“You have no idea how many hearts you’ve broken.” The last part came out as a strangled whisper.

“Oh yeah? And how would you know that anyway?” Changmin was trying to get his temper under control. He didn’t want to be lectured, out of all people, by Onew.

“Because you break mine everyday!”

Onew paled when he realized what he had just confessed. He ripped off his apron and walked out the door. Changmin, was left, mouth slightly open. He still hadn’t processed the gravity of the statement yet.

What did he mean he broke his heart everyday? The only meaning was that Onew was in love with him, but that couldn’t be it.

Could it?

…Oh. Oh.

All the different moment flashed into his mind, of Onew just staring tenderly at him before snapping back to making some coffee for his customers. Onew laughing at all of his lame jokes even though they weren’t funny. Onew prolonging a few parting hugs before letting go reluctantly.

Shit.

Onew was in love with him. And he was hurting him by dating all these girls right in front of him.

Changmin was livid by the time he was out of the café, trying to search for Onew but finding him nowhere. Why didn’t Onew tell him? Why didn’t he even do anything?

A sudden thought struck him. But what good would that do anyway? Onew knew him. He knew that he didn’t, no, have never fallen in love before. And Onew knew that he would prefer cute, curvy girls in comparison with a clumsy, dorky man who had a strange obsession with chicken.

His heart inevitably clenched. He guessed an apology was in order.

Onew looked happy, Changmin vaguely thought as he sipped a cup of latte. There were a lot of customers today, and today was one of his employee’s birthday. The birthday party after the café closed was fun. Now everyone had gone home.

“Aren’t you going to go home now? I swear, you hang around here so much you practically live here,” Onew said. Changmin found his huffing sound kind of adorable, to tell the truth.

“What? Am I not allowed to stay? You would be lonely without me, anyway,” Changmin claimed. Onew only flashed him an amused look before picking up some glasses left on a table. It was around a month after Onew’s groundbreaking confession. Changmin had, as soon as he saw Onew again, apologized for being a dick. In every way possible. Onew accepted the apology gracefully, and they didn’t really discuss the problem or consequence of Onew being in love with him. That topic was just kind of sitting invisibly in the air in between them, ignored by the both of them.

“You haven’t been on a date for a week. This is rather abnormal,” Onew suddenly said.

“I’m just waiting for the right girl,” Changmin scoffed.

Onew stopped in his cleaning of the glasses. “Maybe that’s what you need.”

Changmin wasn’t sure he had heard right. “Excuse me?”

“You should find a girl to fall in love with. A kind and gorgeous girl.”

Whenever Changmin’s parents prodded him about the same thing, he had just ignored them. But this was Onew talking to him here, and he couldn’t help but listen.

“And you would be fine with that?” That question was the closest they had come to that topic. Both of them seemed to hold a breath after the question was released into the air.

“As long as you’re happy,” Onew said, avoiding Changmin’s gaze. The pain was still detectable in his voice. He tried to distract Changmin with a bright smile that was too bright to be true. “I think I know the perfect girl. You’ll love her.”

Changmin let himself be dragged to a blind date set up by Onew. As he sat at the table across from the girl in the café, he felt awkwardness set into the air. It was true that she was quite beautiful, and it turned out she had a nice sense of humor as well.

She was perfect.

But it wasn’t fair, because his mind kept getting distracted by images of Onew. Onew tripping on thin air, Onew laughing obnoxiously at a TV show that no one else found funny, Onew getting frustrated when he botched up a food dish. Onew being right there in the café didn’t help either, because he was immediately distracted again when Onew had accidentally dropped one of the plates. Thank goodness that plate was made out of plastic.

He wanted this relationship with this girl to work. He had promised Onew that he would do her best to like her and stay with her. And he did really like her. In the middle of the conversation, she had suddenly stopped talking and stared at him.

“I heard that you’re a player,” she said very matter-of-factually.

“Uh, yeah,” Changmin said, taken aback.

“Why?”

That question totally caught him off-guard. No one had asked him that question before. He found himself telling her probably most of his life story, trying to explain how he got the label of a player stuck on him.

“Are you sure you can’t fall in love?” She asked.

He latched onto the question. “I think I could, but I just haven’t done so yet.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she retaliated.

“Huh?”

She didn’t explain further. She just rested her face on one of her hands with her elbow propped up on the table. “You talk about Onew a lot.”

That’s all she said. Changmin blinked in confusion, but she had already waved the waiter over and asked for a check.

“Thanks for the date,” she said, smiling. “I really enjoyed it.”

“Ah, me too,” Changmin said. And he actually meant it this time. She was really refreshing to talk to.

“And I don’t think this relationship would work out,” she continued. Changmin found himself gaping at her. He had never been told that before. He was the one usually delivering that statement.

“Oh.” He was a little disappointed he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to Onew. “Well, let me escort you home anyway.”

Changmin frowned, staring at the apartment door. Onew wasn’t responding to the door. Well, it was at night, and he had just finished saying goodbye to the lady he had the blind date with. Onew should be home by now.

“Who is - ?” Onew stared at the visitor in front of him after he had opened the door. He took a ragged breath. “What are you doing here?”

“You were crying,” Changmin said in an alarmed tone. Onew quickly wiped away the tear tracks on his face.

“It was nothing. I was – I was chopping onions and they just came into my eyes,” Onew unconvincingly lied. His red eyes were swollen, and his voice was hoarse. He looked like he had just cried his heart out.

The likely reason for the tears wrapped like a string around Changmin’s heart and tugged at it.

“Were you crying because of me?” He asked softly, brushing his fingers across Onew’s cheek. Onew flinched away from his touch, like it burned him.

“Please,” Onew said. Or practically begged with his eyes. “Go away, Changmin.”

“No.”

“Why aren’t you with her right now? I saw you two leaving together.”

“She said it wouldn’t work out. I agreed.”

“But – but she was perfect.”

“She was perfect,” Changmin said, watching the dull sadness get even blacker in Onew’s eyes. “But I love someone else.”

Onew’s breath hitched. “I thought you weren’t – you didn’t – “

“That I don’t fall in love? I was wrong. So, so wrong. I didn’t realize it, but I am in love with someone. I can’t believe I just realized it today.”

“Who is it?” Onew looked like it took every fiber of his body to ask that question. He looked like he feared the answer.

“You,” Changmin said, and then planted his hand behind Onew’s neck and leaned forward to kiss him.

Their kiss was frantic, rushed, and full of saliva. Changmin wound his other arm around Onew’s waist, pulling him closer than before. Onew was gripping the front of his shirt tightly, as if afraid the man before him would disappear in a second. They broke away, both gasping for oxygen. The second kiss was less rushed but even more passionate. Onew grasped Changmin’s shoulder and pushed him away.

“I don’t get it,” Onew said. “You can’t be in love with me. I’m not – I’m not a girl. I’m not pretty or, or handsome. I trip over thin air. I – I –“

He was quickly silenced by a smothering pair of lips.

“I don’t think you realize how amazing you are,” Changmin said. But then he smirked. “But I can show you why I love you.”

Onew widened his eyes as Changmin hoisted him up to the kitchen counter (when had they gotten there?). Changmin ran his hands down Onew’s sides, placing butterfly kisses along his neck. Onew let out a gasp which devolved into a whimper as he was bitten lightly.

“I want you,” Onew confessed, pulling Changmin closer to him. “I want you so, so much. I’ve wanted you for three years.”

Changmin paused, frozen. He looked into Onew’s eyes. “That long? I must’ve been blind.”

“You’ve always been kind of oblivious.” Onew smiled. It was a happy sort of smile though, partly mixed with some wonder. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Then we should make up for the lost time starting now,” Changmin said. He lifted Onew up princess-style.

“Hey!” Onew yelped. “Stop carrying me around everywhere.”

“Last time tonight,” Changmin said cheerfully. “We’re proceeding to the bedroom.”

Onew dissolved into a blushing and stammering puddle. Changmin laughed lightly, eyes lit up. They had all the time in the world to fall even more in love with each other, after all.

Confessions

flameflowerful — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 18:40:51 GMT

“I love you,” Hyukjae says as he stuffs another mouthful of cereal into his mouth. Donghae groggily moves to the refrigerator, not reacting.

This is only the two hundred and sixty third confession he has heard so far from him, after all. He prides himself on becoming immune to this. Although the first time he’d heard it, he was so shocked he almost flung the ice cream cone he was eating at a nice old lady who was passing nearby.

“The toaster is malfunctioning again,” Donghae says. He whacks the toaster that makes a strange screech as if in protest of the abuse.

“It’s malfunctioning because you keep doing that,” Hyukjae points out. He looks too damn cheerful for a man that was rejected for the two hundred and sixty third time, Donghae’s grumpy morning mind complains.

“Great, now I’m going to have to steal some of your horrible tasting cereal again,” Donghae says.

“It ish deliciooush,” Hyukjae says while trying to gulp down the last part of his breakfast at the same time.

Donghae sets his bowl on the table, plopping himself down unceremoniously with a satisfied sigh. God, he doesn’t think he could make it through this day. He feels zombie-tired. Hyukjae only smirks at the depressed look on Donghae’s face before setting out for his morning class. Donghae thanks the scheduling gods that his class begins later, because he prizes every single precious drop of his morning sleep.

He stirs the spoon in the battlefield of cereal and pink strawberry milk (because they always run out of regular milk. Mostly due to the fact that Hyukjae always forgets to buy them regularly.) Hyukjae still hasn’t given up on him. Donghae frowns at his breakfast. Maybe, now that they are at college, some small part of his mind had thought that Hyukjae would find a nice girl to fall in love with. So that he would constantly stop chasing Donghae everyday.

Almost inadvertently, Donghae’s mind flashbacks (like a movie) to when he was technically first confessed to. They were both fourteen years of age, and had been best friends even back then. They were literally inseparable, which was probably never going to change, Donghae muses as he forces a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He winces at the sugary taste.

They were watching the yearly fire works on the roof of Donghae’s house. It was New Years, Donghae remembers clearly. They were joking around, laughing, sucking on the popsicles that they had bought earlier. Donghae was rambling on about something funny he saw the other day, but stopped when he realized Hyukjae had not contributed any witticisms for several minutes, which was rare. He looked to his left, and Hyukjae was looking at him. Not just looking. It was the kind of stare that pierced the body, until it got to your soul. That kind of look.

“What?” Donghae asked.

“Donghae,” Hyukjae said, “I have to tell you something.”

“Spill.”

“I like a boy.”

That confession had caught Donghae off guard.

“Are you… gay?” That word rolled off Donghae’s tongue in a very foreign way.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But I liked girls before, too. But not as much as I like this boy.”

“Oh.” That was the only response that Donghae could give. “Who is it?”

“You.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “Okay.”

“Is that okay?”

“I guess, if you don’t try to kiss me or anything.”

“Okay.”

With that, they rambled onto another topic, pointing out the brightest and weirdest fireworks they could find. They didn’t talk about it again, until one month later. Donghae had figured Hyukjae was only crushing on him – and crushes were temporary, he knew from experience. No worries.

So he was caught completely off guard (again) when they were in the park, licking away on their ice cream cones.

“I love you.”

Donghae (as noted before) almost assassinated with his ice cream cone the innocent old lady who was walking nearby their bench. He kept his grip on his icy treat though, luckily enough.

“What?” Donghae didn’t think he had heard correctly.

“I love you.”

“You’re joking,” Donghae said. Hyukjae only shook his head and stared at Donghae more.

“I will wait for the day you say that back to me. Until then, I’ll keep saying it,” Hyukjae said. Donghae spluttered at his overconfidence.

“I’m not going to say that back to you! I don’t feel that way for you, you know,” Donghae made a gesture with his hand, “romantically.”

“Not now. But someday,” Hyukjae said, finishing his ice cream cone with a small smile. Donghae could only stare in disbelief and shook his head at his best friend’s impudence.

Hyukjae is rather stubborn, Donghae thinks wryly as he stops reminiscing and finishes his breakfast. But then again, he has always been like that.

~~~

At 7 pm, Donghae and Hyukjae are back in their shared dorm sitting on the sofa. Hyukjae is surfing the TV, remote in his hand. Donghae shifts uncomfortably on his seat, then gazes at his friend.

“Hyukjae.”

“What?” The other says in almost a drawl.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Hm?” Hyukjae looks relaxed but his eyes are now sharpened, focused on Donghae.

“Do you know Jessica?” The slight scowl on Hyukjae’s face is the obvious response. For some reason, he doesn’t seem to like her very much. “I like her a lot. I think I want to ask her out to the dance tomorrow.”

There is a pause, and then Hyukjae’s eyes return to the TV. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, you like her a lot, right? Go for it. Unless you’re scared of rejection.” The smirk is laced into his taunt.

“And – and – you don’t mind or anything?”

“Were you asking me for permission to date her?” Hyukjae looks almost disbelieving.

For some reason, Donghae is getting inexplicably mad.

“Nevermind,” he bites out and stomps almost childishly to his room. He closes the door for good measure (he doesn’t slam it because that would have been beyond immature), and flops onto his bed. The pillow swallows his frustrated scream.

Hyukjae didn’t care. Donghae had expected him to pitch a fit that rivaled the tantrum he had when he didn’t get his customary cup of strawberry milk in the mornings. Why wasn’t he upset? Jealous?

Donghae pauses in his silent screaming contest at his pillow. He doesn’t want Hyukjae to be jealous. Of course not. Why would he? He doesn’t like his best friend that way, after all. He just thinks – he just thinks it’s weird that Hyukjae wasn’t bothered by the fact he likes another girl when he says “I love you’s” to him almost everyday. Yeah, that’s it. Donghae is just puzzled at Hyukjae’s behavior. He ignores that stinging feeling in his chest.

He clenches his blanket with his hands. That’s it. He has decided to ask Jessica out to the dance. And she will look beautiful, and they will dance and he will ignore Hyukjae. That’s what he’s going to do.

~~~

Donghae thinks he’s a weak human being. A very, very weak human being. He thinks that as he can’t say no. He can’t say no when Hyukjae takes his hand and asks him for one dance. “Between friends,” Hyukjae is saying. He tries to deny the feeling, that feeling, that fills his whole body when Hyukjae looks at him when they do a waltz (why is Donghae the girl in this dance, a part of his mind protests but is quickly shushed.)

“I love you.”

The whisper from Hyukjae shakes Donghae. But he doesn’t understand why. He should be immune by now, right? Donghae tries to think about Jessica, who is standing next to the food bar, waiting for their dance to be over so she could go back to dancing with just Donghae. She looks pretty. And Donghae tries to think about that and not how the hair falling over Hyukjae’s eyes frame his face perfectly.

~~~

Donghae is scowling on their sofa, waiting for Hyukjae to come back from his extracurriculars. There is a certain kind of rage in him, all bottled up and ready to explode.

“I love you” is the first thing Hyukjae says when he comes back to their dorm.

“Liar,” Donghae says. He doesn’t know why but he is angry. He is angry and hurt. Hyukjae, in a once in a lifetime occurrence, looks shocked. Because this is the first time Donghae has ever responded to his confessions.

“What?”

“I called you a liar.” Donghae’s eyes flash.

“What did I lie about?”

“You don’t love me.”

“And how would you know that?” This time, Hyukjae’s eyes are equally confrontational and sharp.

“If you loved me, you would care more. You would be jealous when I dance with Jessica. You would never let me date her,” Donghae says, voice almost cracking. “You would look at me differently. You would want to try to kiss me at least once. You don’t even look at me like – like how Kyuhyun would look at Sungmin – even when we are touching. You don’t lo – ”

Before he can even finish his rambling speech, which he has no idea where he is going, he’s just spitting out words that have been bottled inside of him, Hyukjae is kissing him fiercely. And he can’t breathe. Hyukjae’s hands are tangled deep in Donghae’s hair and they’re kissing and their lips are smashed together and Donghae can’t even think. Their breaths are mingled and Donghae can only hear the sound of rapid heartbeats. He isn’t sure whose heartbeats it is; maybe it’s both of theirs. For once, he feels complete.

Hyukjae pulls away, and Donghae can still feel his saliva on his lips, in his mouth, everywhere. He is breathing so hard, his heart is bursting, and he can’t say anything. A look of panic comes over Hyukjae’s face. Donghae isn’t able to stop him from exiting their dorm door, because he doesn’t know what to say and how to say it.

That night, Donghae is only able to twist and turn in his bed almost feverishly, still feeling the imprint of the kiss on his lips and his heart.

~~~

Hyukjae apparently crashed Kyuhyun’s dorm after their kiss. He somehow snuck back in their dorm later but Donghae didn’t see or hear him. He only sees Hyukjae three times during the school day, but even then they don’t talk.

Donghae realizes that they’re both trying to avoid each other. He doesn’t know why Hyukjae is avoiding his gaze, but he is a little relieved because he still doesn’t know what to say to Hyukjae. Jessica approaches him in the beginning of the day, telling him that she thinks they should break up. Donghae nods, weirded out a little because he doesn’t feel that upset at all and he should be. Before she leaves, she calls Donghae an “idiot.” She grins at his puzzled face but refuses to tell him why he is an idiot.

Then he hears a group of girls gossiping from the lunch table next to him while he has just set his lunch down. They’re giggling and talking to each other and Donghae usually ignores them, until this time he hears Hyukjae’s name pass their lips.

He surreptitiously lean towards them a little, trying to eavesdrop in on their conversation.

“Tiffany asked him out for the fourth time, and guess what?” One girl’s eye is all alight at the attention she is receiving for this juicy piece of information. The other girls prod her impatiently for the answer. “Hyukjae said yes. He said yes. Ohmygod, does that mean we have a chance too once they break up?”

The other girls are squealing, because Lee Hyukjae has been utterly unattainable until now. He has always rejected other girls, saying he already loves someone else. Donghae can only stare at his lunch in blank shock. His friends are asking him what’s wrong, and he only shakes his head, gets up abruptly and excuses himself, saying that he’s not hungry. And he isn’t hungry at all. Not when his heart is shattering into tiny pieces. He can almost feel each fragile piece cracking away, and he can’t do anything to stop it.

He rushes back to his dorm, and he almost can’t find his way back because his vision is getting blurry. A wet droplet down his cheek alerts him that he is starting to cry. Which isn’t good, because once he starts crying, he always ends up wailing and sobbing.

He shuts himself in his room, covering his pillow in tears. Only once his sob fest is over, that Donghae realizes something. He realizes why he is crying, why every fiber of his body feels like he’s been through emotional hell, why he cares about whether or not Hyukjae is jealous, and why that kiss is still branded into the memory of his body.

Donghae sits up. Without a second thought, he runs to the second floor of the library, the part that’s always quiet and where he knows Hyukjae likes to study. He tells himself he is too late already, but he runs anyway because he now knows what to say to Hyukjae. No one else is there except a thin solitary figure leaning on one of the benches, reading a thick book. Donghae’s breath stops when Hyukjae brushes a part of his bangs away from his face absently.

Why didn’t he realize before how beautiful Hyukjae is?

“Donghae?” Hyukjae’s voice sounds startled. And worried. “Are you crying?”

Great, Donghae realizes he can’t even utter a word right now because he is sniffling and snot is probably all over his face. But he has so much to say.

“I’m sorry,” Donghae forces out. Hyukjae only tugs him closer so he can sit on the bench as well.

“For what?”

“For not realizing – hic,” Donghae says. His face flushes red in embarrassment because he is now hic-hupping out of all things as well. “Not realizing it sooner.”

Hyukjae is patiently waiting for Donghae to keep talking, and he is brushing his hand soothingly through Donghae’s hair. Donghae almost wishes they could stay like this forever.

“But now I’m too late!” Donghae wails into Hyukjae’s shoulder. Hyukjae rocks him slightly in a hug.

“What, Hae? What did you realize?” Hyukjae asks.

It takes all off Donghae’s courage and more to look into Hyukjae’s eyes. He is trembling and shaking, even with Hyukjae’s calming hand rubbing his back.

“That I love you.”

Hyukjae freezes. Donghae is shallowly breathing from all the crying he just did and from the fact that Hyukjae is not responding. He thinks maybe Hyukjae has stopped breathing as well.

“Hyukkie?” Donghae is now shaking his shoulder worriedly.

“Repeat that,” Hyukjae says, tilting Donghae’s head with his hand on his chin.

“I love you.” The whisper is low but clear. Hyukjae gives Donghae one of his brightest gummy smiles he has ever seen.

“I love you too.”

It was the two hundred and sixty sixth confession from Hyukjae, but it feels like the first. Because for once, Donghae lets these words wrap around him in a warm embrace, and he accepts them, loving each letter and sound. Donghae leans forward, and they kiss again. And again. And again.

“What about Tiffany?” Donghae asks softly. He thinks everything is too good to be true. Each touch from Hyukjae shows him that every one of these two hundred and sixty sixth confessions came from his heart.

“I was trying to distance myself from you,” Hyukjae says, tracing invisible lines on Donghae’s neck with his hands. “I thought – maybe – I went too far with that kiss. And I didn’t want our friendship to be affected by that. So I said yes to her.”

Donghae snorted at Hyukjae’s answer. Before he could say anything else, they were kissing again, exploring each other. They say ‘I love you’ to each other that night so many times that Donghae has long lost count.

~~~

Donghae hands Hyukjae his strawberry flavored ice cream cone while he happily licks his vanilla flavored ice cream. They sit on the park bench. It’s summer, and Donghae had demanded that they go on a date today. Hyukjae picked this park to go to.

“This is where it all started,” Hyukjae muses. Donghae laughs, looking at the spot where that old lady had passed when Hyukjae had told him his first ‘I love you.’ He takes another lick at his ice cream cone, content with his left hand tightly intertwined with Hyukjae’s. Hyukjae had broken up with Tiffany almost immediately after Donghae’s confession. Many girls moaned about the no longer single status of Hyukjae. But even more girls joined an unofficial fanclub where they fangirled over Donghae and Hyukjae’s relationship. Donghae honestly finds that a little creepy, but hey, he can’t really complain. He fangirls over Hyukjae all the time.

“Hey!” Donghae pouts at his boyfriend. In his daydreaming trance, Hyukjae stole a bite off of his ice cream. He gets a gummy smile in return. In revenge, Donghae licks Hyukjae’s ice cream. He has started to get a preference for strawberry flavored stuff after kissing Hyukjae so many times.

They take turns feeding each other ice cream. Donghae feels happiness spread through his being. So this is what it’s like to be alive.