asleep without your message ; one-shot

[riots]

Title: Asleep Without Your Message
Author: loudestoflove
Pairing: Kris/Yixing
Rating: R
Length: 16 000~ words
Summary: AU. Yixing is content to float by, until he meets a certain photographer. Yifan is a little creepy. Yixing doesn't mind.
A/N: bless donotsetmeon for her constant handholding and listening to me bitch about this monster for weeks

Late at night is Yixing's favourite time to practice. The solitude and quiet is perfect, it cuts down on distractions. He works long shifts during the day at a cafe a few blocks over, and while it pays the bills, it just gets so tiring. Eight hours of dealing with caffeine-deprived customers impatient for their fix, most of them unappreciative of the amount of cheer he can muster up at six am – it's not a good time.

Lucky for him, the studio, after his shifts, is blessedly free of people. No demands, no coffee, just the sound of his shoes on hardwood. He's lucky that he's friendly with some of the teachers in the studio, and they let him practice after hours. He can't make it during the day, but Minseok has a soft heart and he lets Yixing in after they close.

Yixing needs this, needs to push himself until he sweats and shakes and works off the day's stress. Dance is the one thing that has always just clicked for him. The rhythm, the movement, there is something effortless about it for him, and he relishes the way he can focus on nothing but the beat and making his movements as precise and accurate as possible.

It's late, and Yixing is soaked with sweat. His shift had been particularly long, filled with customers who quibbled over their orders and demanded remade drinks for the smallest things. It took a few hours but now he's finally starting to relax, no longer frustrated with his job and shifting his focus to what he's doing. He closes his eyes, no longer worrying about watching himself for accuracy and instead lets go. He values his precision but tonight, he needs to lose a little control.

When his playlist ends again, Yixing slows to a stop, his eyes sliding open. He feels good, muscles loose and aching in an excellent way. At least until he glances up into the mirror and meets the gaze of a very tall, good-looking man watching him intently. Startled, Yixing spins around, mouth falling open. The guy stands in the door way, an expensive-looking camera held carefully in his big hands. He's not usually that self-conscious, especially here, but the guy has caught him off guard. Yixing is frozen, feeling uncomfortable in his ratty workout clothes, his hair a mess.

“I'm sorry,” the man says. His voice is low and his expression is cautious but otherwise unreadable. He holds up a hand in apology. “I didn't mean to intrude.” Yixing swallows hard and stares at him. How long has he been standing there? The camera's in his hands but he looks model perfect, styled hair, arched eyebrows.

“It's fine,” Yixing manages finally, waves a hand. “Uh. The studio's supposed to be closed.” He tries to hide his discomfort by turning around and grabbing his towel. He wipes his face, mopping at the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. “I didn't think anyone was allowed in.”

The guy inclines his head. “Yeah, I know one of the head teachers, Minseok? I've been looking for a location for a shoot, he said he'd let me have a look.” He bends into a quick bow. “I'm Yifan.”

Yixing returns the gesture, feeling awkward still. “Yixing,” he replies. He tugs on a hoodie quickly, hiding himself in the oversized sleeves and hood. His bangs stick to his forehead and he pushes them aside. “Did you find something, then?” Yixing starts throwing his things into his bag, frowning a little when he sees the way his hands tremble. He pushed himself hard today.

When he glances up again, Yifan's eyes on him are thoughtful. “Yeah, I think maybe I did,” he says slowly.

Yixing blinks at him, confused. “I don't follow,” he begins, but when Yifan waves the camera a little bit something in his head clicks. Yixing's eyes widen. He was taking pictures? Of him? He feels oddly exposed. “Oh.” His eyes roam the practice room uncomfortably and he shoulders his bag. He really wishes that Yifan wasn't standing between him and the doorway right now.

It surprises him, the way Yifan catches on immediately. He spreads his long arms wide in a placating gesture. “I'm sorry,” he says again. “I should have asked. I just didn't want to break your focus.” Yixing pauses, shifting a nervous hand on the strap of his bag. “You're good.”

Yixing brings his eyes up to meet Yifan's again. He can't help but smile a little at that. “Thanks,” he says, and he means it, sincerely. It's not like he doesn't know he has ability, but he practices hard. It's always gratifying to hear it pays off. “I work hard.”

“It shows,” Yifan agrees with a nod. He brandishes the camera again and pauses before he speaks, thinking. “Do you mind?” he asks. “I think some of these will turn out pretty well.”

Instinctively, Yixing wants to say no. What Yifan has done is an invasion of his privacy, really. No amount of flattery changes that fact. But there's something about Yifan's expression, the way he handles his camera with delicacy and care. He's serious about his photography. Whether he does it professionally or as a hobby, he doesn't do it on a whim. And that's probably what makes Yixing give in.

“Alright,” he says. When Yifan smiles, it's mostly with his eyes, but it still makes Yixing's words catch in his throat for a second. “Do I get to see them?”

Yifan laughs. “Oh, of course.” Yixing eyes him warily as Yifan approaches, but he's just pulling out his phone. “Give me your number? I'll text you when I'm done.” They swap phone numbers quickly, and when Yixing passes Yifan's phone back to him, Yifan squeezes his hand briefly. “Thank you so much,” he says. “I really appreciate it.” He ducks his head and smiles sheepishly at him. “I'm sorry for interrupting you.”

Yixing shakes his head. “I was done for the night anyway.” He jerks his chin towards the door. “But I've gotta get going. Are you done with everything? I have to lock up or Minseok will get me in trouble.” He really wants to go home and shower. He feels pretty gross, and it doesn't help anything to be standing next to a towering photographer with a face like that.

“Yeah, I got what I came here for.” Yifan follows him out of the building, helping Yixing flick off all the lights as they go. Still, he lingers when Yixing stops to lock the door. “It was nice meeting you,” he says, and Yixing can tell he means it, too.

That pulls a small crooked smile from Yixing. “Yeah, you too.” He looks up at Yifan from under his hood, eyebrows raised. “If I look bad in those pictures, I'm blaming you.”

Yifan laughs, and it makes his eyes crinkle up. “Come on,” he says. “You haven't even seen my work yet. Give me a little credit.” He hesitates and pulls at the strap of his camera, promises to text Yixing when he's done with the photos.

When he goes, Yixing pauses for a second, watches him go. He's not sure what to make of him, but he's kind of hoping that he does hear from Yifan, sooner rather than later.

He's heading back from his break three days later when his phone vibrates. you make a lot of faces when you dance.

Yixing stares at his phone, unsure if he should be offended or not. As he passes behind the counter to the backroom, Lu Han peers over his shoulder at the screen. “You do,” he tells Yixing, and when Yixing throws an annoyed look at him over his shoulder, Lu Han just beams at him, all wide-eyed and guileless.

When he emerges again, phone safely in his pocket, tying his apron up behind him, Lu Han's expression is curious. “Who's Yifan?” He speaks quietly while pouring a coffee for a customer. The smile he flashes at the girl is sweet and genuine and Yixing shakes his head and laughs when she blushes a little. They've been best friends for years but it still amuses him, the effect Lu Han can have on people. Everyone adores him.

Yixing avoids answering Lu Han by dodging his eye and focusing on serving the line at the cash. Lu Han's not fooled, and he lets Yixing know by giving him meaningful little jabs in the ribs every time they pass each other behind the bar. He doesn't push, though. He knows that when they're on the floor, trying to pry something out of Yixing is useless, so he doesn't bother, and Yixing appreciates it.

Of course, when they close up that evening, that rule doesn't apply. While they wipe down the counters and sweep the floor, Lu Han needles Yixing for details. “So he was just like, spying on you? Taking pictures? And your first instinct was to give him your number?”

Yixing channels every inch of his annoyance into his expression when he looks at Lu Han. Lu Han just laughs, small hands counting nimbly through the cash box. Yixing can't help but wince a little at his words, though. Put like that, it doesn't sound like the smartest of moves. “He said he didn't want to disturb me while I was practicing. I guess he's pretty serious about his photography.”

Lu Han regards him with interest and faint concern. “It's a good thing you're a good judge of character, otherwise I'd be worried about you.” He pauses with his hands still in the cash register. “Should I be worried?”

Nudging Lu Han's feet with the mop, Yixing rolls his eyes fondly. “No,” he says firmly. “I didn't even answer his text yet, and I don't plan on getting into his unmarked white van for some candy.” The corner of his mouth pulls up in an amused smile and Lu Han wrinkles his nose, hitting Yixing in the arm.

They fall silent and Yixing hums as he works, moving around Lu Han with an ease borne of practice. Lu Han counts quickly, then he moves on to tidying up the bar. He's always been a bit faster than Yixing, and when Yixing returns from putting away the mop, Lu Han is waiting for him, apron off and ready to go. “You are interested, though,” he says. “Aren't you?”

Yixing was kind of hoping to avoid this part of the conversation. As he unlaces his apron he shrugs a shoulder and says nothing.

Lu Han didn't really need the confirmation anyway. “Well, if he turns out to be shady, I'll rough him up.”

Laughter bubbles out of Yixing's mouth, and Lu Han does his best to look affronted. Yixing pointedly looks him up and down, and then pats him on the hand. “You've always got my back,” he says appreciatively, hooking his arm through Lu Han's as they head out the door. He's not sure what use Lu Han would be in that situation, though. He's a bit taller than Yixing but looks like he's years younger, with wide innocent eyes and small, fine-boned hands. He knows Lu Han can be deceptively strong, but he doesn't know if he'd bet on him in a fight.

“Just make sure that if he asks you to take off your clothes, he's really hot.” Yixing shoves him and Lu Han goes reeling, their laughter echoing in the street.

It takes Yixing another day to get around to texting Yifan back. Lu Han's words of caution are sticking in his head, but at the same time, Yifan didn't even need to wait around to ask permission. He could have taken the pictures and then slipped out while Yixing was still locked in concentration and Yixing would have been none the wiser. It's this fact that leads him to send off a short retort the next afternoon.

The reply comes quickly. Yixing spends a lot of time in his shift that day texting Yifan under the counter, biting back smiles while Lu Han watches him knowingly. He doesn't let himself get distracted from work, but they're not always busy, and it's nice to have something to do in the downtime. Even if Lu Han likes to sidle past him and bemoan his fate of being left to tidy things on his own.

Just before close, Yifan sends him a picture, he calls it a teaser. When Yixing opens it, he kind of just stops for a second. It's obviously just a part of a larger picture, cropped to show Yixing what Yifan has been working on, but that doesn't mean that Yixing can't tell it's good. It's just a sliver of Yixing's face and one outstretched arm, his eyes reflected in the mirror in front of him. Lu Han hooks his chin on Yixing's shoulder, peering down at the screen. “Whoa,” he says. Yixing is taken aback by how vivid the determination in his own eyes is, the tension in his jaw, the clean line of his arm. “Is that from the photographer?”

Yixing raises his eyebrows and nods.

Lu Han whistles, long and low. “I think you're his muse.”

Shrugging him off, Yixing shoves his phone into his pocket abruptly, rolling his eyes at Lu Han. “Not everything is one of your romance mangas,” he points out, and Lu Han backs away, holding his hands up. He doesn't, however, bother to hide the smile on his face.

“Are you sure?” Yixing flicks him in the nose and then spins none too gracefully to serve a last minute customer. Lu Han's hand ghosts across the small of Yixing's back and he laughs. It takes a bit of effort for Yixing to school his face a smile instead of resigned annoyance, but he manages it. He thinks he probably deserves a gold star for that.

After a bit of gentle prodding, they set up a time to meet again. Yixing has a rare day off approaching, and Yifan suggests they meet up in a park close to the studio.

Yifan is easy to spot. Yixing sees his blond hair and the graceful line of his neck from afar. Yifan is bent over a folder in his lap, Yixing assumes it's the photos. He glances up as Yixing approaches, and the instant smile in his eyes makes the tension in Yixing's stomach ease. Yifan stands abruptly, and it's pure luck that he manages to catch the pictures before they fall to the ground.

“Nice save,” Yixing laughs as Yifan tucks the folder under his arm. It's the tail end of summer and despite the lingering heat, Yifan is well dressed, white jacket over a pale button up. Dragging the toe of his sneaker across the ground, Yixing feels a little like he missed the memo. He's under-dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt.

Yifan scowls, but the corner of his mouth pulls up, and Yixing feels a tiny rush of victory. “I'm multi-talented,” Yifan tells him, and Yixing presses his lips together, only halfheartedly biting back a smile as he nods solemnly.

“Of course you are,” he says, his voice just barely on the wrong side of real sincerity.

Eyebrows raised in surprise, Yifan looks at him for a second. He seems caught off guard by the familiarity in Yixing's tone, and there's a small sense of satisfaction in that. It's payback for their meeting the other week. “Hey now, you have to give me a chance to prove myself before you start with all the doubting.” Yixing holds up a hand in apology, but there's no real offense in Yifan's expression, just amusement. That earns him points in Yixing's book.

He fiddles idly with the hem of his shirt. Yixing's already warming to Yifan, with his dramatically angled eyebrows and oversized hands. He's just not sure if that's a good thing. “So,” he says. “Do I get to see these pictures or what?” Sliding his fingers into his pockets, he tips his head up to look at Yifan. “Did you even take any, or are you just some kind of creep?”

Yifan doesn't rise to the bait. He presses a hand to his chest, mouth falling open, all mock wounded. “I resent that implication,” he tells Yixing, and the glint in his eyes makes Yixing's lips curl into a smile, despite himself. “I thought we could grab something to eat, my treat.” Before Yixing can say anything, Yifan shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, I owe you, right?”

Tilting his head, Yixing pauses before he speaks. “You want to buy me lunch?” he asks slowly.

Yifan laughs softly, looking away, his tongue between his teeth. “I guess so.” It gives Yixing a rush to realize that Yifan is nervous. Although really, he's showing Yixing his work, which is cause enough for nerves, he supposes. “Most models get paid, right?”

He hadn't thought of it that way. Models. Yixing rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “You better not cheap out on me, then.” He raises his eyebrows, and then rushes on. “I mean, I could be making you famous, right?”

Waving a hand, Wufan shakes his head. “Quit worrying. I've got something in mind.” His eyes curve, pleased, and Yixing digs his nails into his palm. Oh boy.

Yifan leads them to a family restaurant. It's a little out of the way, quaint and cozy, and the staff all greet him by name. He finds them a table near the window and when they go to sit down, he pulls out Yixing's chair. Yixing can't help the laugh it surprises out of him. Yifan colours a little at that and Yixing stares for a second, fascinated, before he remembers to sit down.

While Yifan catches a server's attention, Yixing takes a second to shoot off a text to Lu Han. grabbing lunch. dont send in the troops yet. He glances up to Yifan watching him curiously. “It's, uh.” There's no way to explain it without embarrassing himself, so he just says it. “My friend. He's not sure I should be meeting up with strange men who take pictures without my permission.”

Yifan has the good grace to look apologetic at that. “I'm trying to make it up to you - “ he starts, but Yixing shakes his head, waves him off. “Your focus - “ As the server approaches, Yifan's brow furrows and he searches for the right words. “I just wanted to catch it.” The folder of photos rests on the table, one of Yifan's big hands stretched across it, and the curiosity is going to drive Yixing nuts.

The server, a girl with a mess of short, streaked blonde hair, drops a glass on the table in front of Yifan. They make small talk for a few seconds, catching up on Yifan's recent photography work, apparently. When she turns to get Yixing's drink order, she looks him over quickly, then glances back at Yifan. “So who's this?” she asks curiously, watching Yifan expectantly.

Although he raises his glass to take a sip, Yifan doesn't hide the deeply murderous look he shoots her. “Yixing, meet Amber,” he says darkly, and if Yixing didn't know better, he'd say that Yifan was flushed. “Our massively annoying server of the day.” Amber smiles at Yixing amiably as she swings at Yifan without looking. Her fist hits him hard enough that he rocks in his chair and grimaces, muttering under his breath. “Amber, this is Yixing. He's, uh. Well, I guess he's the model of my last shoot.”

At this, Amber turns a more calculating eye on Yixing, and he does his best not to squirm. She's small but she has a big presence. Across the table, Yixing can see Yifan shift in his seat, keeping his hand firmly on the folder. Yixing looks back at Amber, tapping her pen idly on her notepad. “By that he means he broke into the dance studio and took pictures without asking me.”

Yixing knows he's chosen his words well when Yifan sputters and a grin breaks out across Amber's face. “I always knew you were a creep,” Amber tells Yifan, When her eyes flick back to Yixing, her expression is conspiratorial and Yixing knows he's made an ally.

Yifan groans and lays a hand against his forehead. “Can't you just take our order?” he asks, his tone long-suffering and tired. Yixing wonders for a split second if he should be concerned, but he sees the faint smile on Yifan's lips and realizes he's just stumbled on what seems to be an old routine. This is just a new variation on it.

“I'm kind of hungry,” Yixing offers helpfully, and Yifan shoots him a grateful look.

There's disappointment in the twist of Amber's lips but she complies, cocking her hip in a practised motion and taking their orders quickly. When she walks back to the kitchen, she twists to point a finger at Yifan. “No pictures,” she tells him. Yifan looks like he wants to throw something at her. Pressing the back of his hand to his lips, Yixing does his best not to laugh. He's not doing so well.

When she's gone, Yixing glances again at the folder under Yifan's hand. When he looks up, Yifan is watching him. “Alright,” he says, and Yixing beams, holding his hands out. Yifan is strangely slow to hand over the folder, running his tongue across his lower lip before he sets the folder in Yixing's grasp. “I'm curious to know what you think,” he admits. Pausing before he opens the folder, Yixing can see Yifan's nerves again, just under the surface. He takes this really seriously, Yixing realizes. His photography is important to him.

Yifan has nothing to worry about. Yixing takes his time going through the folder, and he's a little astonished. There's only a handful of photographs, maybe a dozen, and it's strange for Yixing, seeing himself from the outside like this. He's seen himself dance before, in the mirror and sometimes in practice videos, but this is something else. Those times were about the moves, the timing, and these photos are definitely not. One of them shows Yixing in a jump, eyes shut as he falls and trusts he'll land properly. Another catches the bare hint of a smile when he nails a move that was escaping him. They're all like that. The thing that surprises him most is the determination Yixing sees on his own face, the focus, the concentration. When he watches himself in the mirror it's not his expression he's looking at, but Yifan was right, he looks intense when he dances. Seeing himself like this is a bit surreal.

He doesn't realize how long he's been silent when Yifan clears his throat, ice clinking in his glass as he sets it down. “Sorry,” Yixing says automatically, tearing his eyes away from the photos and carefully closing the folder. Yifan smiles at him tightly, and Yixing laughs. “Sorry,” he says again. “It's just. Wow. You're good.”

Some of the tension eases out of Yifan's eyes. “I take it you like them, then.” He toys with his glass, slowly turning it around in his big hands.

“I've never seen myself like that,” Yixing tells him and Yifan blinks, a broad smile spreading across his lips.

“That's – really?” When Yixing nods, Yifan's eyes drop to his hands. “That is a huge compliment.”

Yixing hadn't thought about it that way. It must be, he thinks, to tell someone that their art made them see something in a new way. There's definitely a flush on Yifan's face now, and he looks so pleased and almost shy. “I didn't need you to help me look good, though,” he adds, and Yifan snorts.

“Ego,” he says warningly, and Yixing just beams at him. When Yifan grins back, bigger and more genuine than anything Yixing's seen from him, Yixing's chest floods with warmth. He's pretty sure he's already sunk, and he can't bring himself to worry about it.

After they eat, Yifan hands over the folder for Yixing to keep. “I have the originals,” he says, like that explains anything, and Yixing holds the photos carefully in both of his hands. They're just pictures, but they feel important, somehow. He can feel Yifan's eyes on him and he nods his thanks.

They're awkward at the door. Amber doesn't help, telling them to have 'such a good afternoon, guys!' and wiggling her eyebrows. Yifan presses his fingers to his temple and thanks her in a completely unimpressed deadpan, but it does nothing to flatten her knowing grin.

Yifan apologizes repeatedly for having to run immediately afterwards, he's got to meet up with a client. Yixing just waves this off, of course he doesn't mind, that's important. “This was fun,” Yifan says, after a pause that stretches just a hair too long. “I had fun.”

Rubbing his thumb idly against the folder in his hands, Yixing squints up at Yifan. “Me too,” he admits, and he's rewarded when Yifan's eyes curve into a smile. “Aren't you glad you decided to take creepy pictures of me?”

Yifan lets out a loud laugh, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Are you ever going to let that go?” he wonders.

“No,” Yixing tells him frankly, his tone serene, and Yifan shakes his head. He points a finger at Yixing as he turns to leave.

“Don't lose those,” he says. “They might be worth something someday.”

Yixing's eyes fall to the folder in his hands and thinks that someday should be pretty soon, for someone as talented as Yifan is.

The next day, Yixing refuses to show Lu Han the photos until there's no one in the coffee shop and they don't have anything to do. It's worth it, if only because he can make sure that they don't end up ruined, and because of how Lu Han gets when he's curious. He pokes his fingers into Yixing's sides and pleads for a peek, just a peek, scrunching up his nose and pouting when Yixing tells him no. Although Lu Han can be very shrewd, his childish side never fails to amuse Yixing.

Near close, they sit down at one of the tables and Lu Han glances through the pictures. He's quiet, finally looking up at Yixing hard enough to make Yixing dig his teeth into his lip. “What?” he asks, uncomfortable.

“And he bought you lunch too, huh,” Lu Han muses out loud. Yixing rests his chin on his hand, eyebrows raised in exasperation, and waits. Lu Han's small mouth twists up into a smile. “I like this guy already.”

Yixing huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. “He says about a guy he's never met.”

Lu Han's smile stretches, grows a bit smug. “I know what he looks like, though.” Yixing frowns, confused. Shuffling through the photos, Lu Han stops on one and pushes it to face Yixing with one finger. It's the picture Yifan sent him the teaser of, the one of Yixing watching himself in his reflection.

The thing he hadn't noticed before is Yifan's figure in the bottom corner. He's crouching to get a good angle, but the mirrors on the walls mean his profile is caught in full view. “He's handsome,” Lu Han says. When he speaks, Yixing glances up to find Lu Han's gaze on him, thoughtful.

He's not wrong. “Shut up,” Yixing grumbles, rolling his eyes and looking away.

Clearly, that's not the right answer, because Lu Han jumps out of his seat and squirms his way onto Yixing's. It's really not a comfortable fit and Yixing is mostly hanging off the chair now, but Lu Han winds an arm around his waist and squeezes him. “You totally are his muse,” he tells Yixing, and he sounds pretty pleased with himself.

Wedging an arm between them, Yixing levers Lu Han away with enough force to send him sprawling off the chair. It doesn't knock the grin off his face, though. “You're the worst,” Yixing sighs.

Lu Han nods solemnly. “And you love me.”

Unfortunate fact. The door chimes as a customer enters and Yixing hurries to help Lu Han to his feet. Lu Han brushes himself off and greets the woman with a smile, making small talk while Yixing gathers up the photos to put away. He takes one last look at the one Lu Han pointed out before sliding it back in the folder. Lu Han is staring at him pointedly while he echoes the woman's drink order for accuracy and Yixing nods, darting into the backroom to stash Yifan's photos.

When Yixing begins the process of making the customer's drink, Lu Han sneaks up behind him, resting his hands on his hips. “You should keep him,” Lu Han tells him softly.

Yixing shrugs him off, carefully putting the lid on the drink and handing it over to the woman with a practiced smile. “I'm not listening to you.”

Pursing his lips, Lu Han walks off to tidy the pastries. “You should,” he says. “I'm always right. Didn't you know?” Before Yixing can reply, a whole family of tourists comes through the door and they're too busy to continue the argument. He still manages to shoot Lu Han a dark look, though. Lu Han blithely ignores him.

The folder sits on his desk for a few days, and Yixing doesn't open it again until he's sitting on the phone with his mother and trying not to listen to her.

“You're twenty two, Yixing,” she tells him, her voice grating and harsh in his ear. He shuts the door to his room, not wanting his roommate to hear what is becoming a weekly routine for him. “You can't work at a coffee shop forever. What are you going to do with your life?”

“I know, mom,” Yixing says quietly. He sits heavily in his desk chair, and it creaks under his weight as he rubs a hand across his eyes. “I just haven't figured it out yet. Give me time.”

She scoffs. “Time, time. We've given you all the time in the world.” The only thing that keeps him from hanging up is the worry that undercuts the sharpness of her words. He knows it's worry that makes her like this, makes her push and snap. His family is hours away, back in Hunan, and it's times like this that he feels it keenly, feels his mother trying to push through the phone to shake some sense into him. “You wasted all that time on dance, and that's over, and you're serving coffee.”

Yixing bristles at that. “It wasn't a waste,” he insists, and the fierce, jagged edges of his tone surprises him. He flicks open the folder in front of him. Looking at them again, it just reinforces his belief. Maybe sometimes it hurts, knowing that the practices he does alone at night are the best he'll have, but dance is still one of the most important parts of his life. He's proud of his skills, of the way his body moves, even if it's not quite at the level it used to be. “It was never a waste.”

There's a pause, and Yixing can hear his mother breathing. “Well,” she says, and her tone has softened. “It's done with now. Yixing, you can't pour coffee your whole life. That's not living.”

It's not, she's right, and that stings more than he'd like to admit. He's been treading water for so long, going from home to the coffee shop to the studio and back home. He's not sure he knows how to do anything else anymore. “I know, mom,” he answers, his voice barely a whisper. He can't look at the photos anymore. Yixing spins in his chair, stares at the wall. “Do we have to do this again?”

“You can come home.” The words hang between them and Yixing's mouth twists. Every week, the same thing. Come back to China. It's tempting, sometimes. It'd be easy to go back to his parents' house, to let them handle everything while he figures things out. The thing is, small as it is, he has a life here. He has Lu Han, and game night with Jongdae, his roommate, and Minseok. And, well. Now, Yifan. He can't give up this independence.

“I know,” Yixing sighs. “But - “

“But. There's always a 'but'.” Another silence stretches too long. “I just don't want to see you like this.”

He climbs to his feet only long enough to throw himself back on his bed. But you can't see me, he thinks idly. “I know, mom,” he says. “I'm fine, though.”

“That's what you always say!” There's a tinge of amusement to her voice and Yixing smiles a little. They're headed away from dangerous ground again, finally. It takes a few more minutes of small talk, but he finally gets her off the phone. He's thankful his father was working, because he really doesn't need to get lectured from both sides.

He lays on top of the covers for a long time, eyes fixed on the ceiling, phone abandoned by his pillow. He loves his family, he really and truly does, but sometimes phonecalls with them can leave him feeling unsteady and unhappy. If his mother weren't so right, this wouldn't be a problem, but she is, and maybe he is as directionless as she fears.

He jerks out of his revery when his phone buzzes next to his head. wanna model for me again? i won't even ask you to take your shirt off.

Yifan couldn't have better timing. A slow smile spreads across Yixing's face as he sits up. so now you ask for permission?

give it a rest. Yixing grins. Yifan is too easy.

They make plans to meet up at the coffee shop after Yixing gets off the next day. He doesn't really intend to tell Lu Han about it, but Lu Han catches something in his expression and immediately demands to know why Yixing is smiling like that. Yixing doesn't bother trying to pretend like he's not, Lu Han would know better anyway.

When it comes time to close, the shop is empty and the two of them are fooling around as they get things ready for the end of the night. Lu Han has been moaning about how now that Yixing has Yifan he'll probably abandon him, shooting Yixing sad looks and sighing heavily and exaggeratedly. Yixing finishes mopping up and changes out of his work uniform and slides behind Lu Han, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. “I could never abandon you,” he coos, his tone deliberately sugary sweet as he presses his face to Lu Han's shoulder. “You're my favourite.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Startled, Yixing jerks his head up to see Yifan looking at them from the other side of the counter. He's eyeing Lu Han with something akin to distaste, but Yixing can't put his finger on it.

Quickly, Yixing disentangles himself from Lu Han, feeling a flush creep up from under his collar. “No, no,” Lu Han tells him cheerfully. The smile on his small mouth is annoyingly smug. “Hi, I'm Lu Han! And you are?” He holds out a hand for Yifan to shake, and when he takes it, reluctantly, it's swallowed in Yifan's grip.

“Yifan,” he replies, eyes shifting to Yixing's face after a long second. Yixing shoots him an apologetic look.

There's something very devious in Lu Han's expression as he carefully looks Yifan over, and it makes Yixing worry. “Ah,” he says meaningfully. “So you're the mysterious stalking photographer.” Behind the counter, where their hands are hidden, Yixing digs his thumb hard into Lu Han's side. He's going to scare him off if he keeps this up. Lu Han ignores him, and for someone who looks so sweet, he's managing to look kind of scary right now.

Yifan exhales through his nose. “Seems like everyone's hearing the story,” he says dryly. He doesn't look offended though, so Yixing takes that one as a win.

“He tells me everything,” Lu Han informs Yifan. Yixing may strangle him. Justifiable homicide, really.

Yifan turns to look at Yixing as he speaks. “So you're the one I go to if I want to know all his dirty little secrets?” Yifan leans over the counter and smiles at him, and Yixing realizes what Yifan's thinking. Fair's fair. Payback for the other day with Amber. He frowns.

“Exactly,” Lu Han beams, and suddenly they're both grinning at Yixing and this is the least fun thing ever. “Told you I like him,” Lu Han says to him.

“I'm getting my bag,” Yixing says pointedly. Lu Han looks far too pleased.

It only takes him a few minutes to gather his stuff together, and when he comes out, Lu Han is looking, if it's possible, even more satisfied with himself, and Yifan just looks faintly amused. They're staring hard at each other, and Yixing has the fleeting impression of watching a shoot-out at dawn. Yifan is the first to look away, turning to face Yixing as he scoots out from behind the bar. “Alright,” Yifan says, and he lets a hand settle on the small of Yixing's back, steering him towards the door. “Nice meeting you, Lu Han.”

Yixing's stomach jolts at the feel of Yifan's possessive hand. “See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Have fun!” Lu Han replies, and Yixing isn't even close to surprised at the innuendo in his tone.

As they head out the door towards the studio, Yifan seems to become aware of where his hand is and he lets it drop. Out of the corner of his eye, Yixing sees him colour and look away. Yixing bites his lip, mouth turning up at the corners.

The shoot doesn't go exactly as planned. Yifan stands behind Yixing, trying to stay out of his line of sight and telling him to just relax, but he can't. It's hard to focus when he knows someone's watching him intently. No matter how hard he tries, instead of tracking his own movements his eyes keep finding Yifan and his camera in the mirror. He trips over a simple routine, he can't find the precision he knows he has, and at the end of the third song he stumbles to a stop, frowning at his reflection.

Yifan turns off the music for a second and smiles a little at Yixing, trying to put him at ease. He tells Yixing to try again, just focus on the music and Yixing steels himself and nods. He closes his eyes and it works, for a little while at least. Then habit kicks in and he opens them again to check his accuracy and there's Yifan with the camera raised to his face, clicking away. He slips, loses the rhythm, and then that's it for him. He lets out a shout, dropping to his knees and running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” Yifan says. He drops to a crouch next to Yixing. Yixing stares at his hands sullenly, more irritated with himself than anything. “Am I distracting you?”

“No,” Yixing tells him immediately, and then he realizes that it's true, too. It's not Yifan, it's the camera. It's the fact that any misstep he might make could be recorded and shared. He's not afraid of his mistakes, but he's not proud of them either. It's been a long time since anyone watched him dance, much record it for all posterity, and he's just not used to it anymore. It reminds him of something he's lost. “I just.” He laughs a little, shakes his head. “I'm not a great model. I don't know how to act in front of a camera. It's probably better if I didn't know that you were here.”

Yifan is silent for a second then he bends his head down to catch Yixing's eye. “Are you telling me you'd rather I just take secret stalker pics instead?” His tone is teasing, and Yixing's chest floods with warmth when he realizes that Yifan is trying to lighten his mood, make him laugh.

“You should work to your strengths,” he tells Yifan seriously, and he gets shoved for it. He doesn't quite catch himself and sprawls across the polished wooden floor, laughing. What Yifan is doing, it's working. His irritation at himself melts away as he props himself up on his elbows and looks up at Yifan. He's doing his best to glare at Yixing, but the way his eyebrows furrow isn't intimidating Yixing in the least.

“I am not a creep,” Yifan insists, his mouth twisting up into a smile.

“That remains to be seen.”

Yifan scoffs and straightens, holding a hand out to help Yixing to his feet. Yixing takes it and he shouldn't be surprised by the strength in his grip, but he is, a little. He stumbles forward once he's standing, ending up a little too close to Yifan than is probably necessary. From this vantage point he can see that Yifan is tall but well-built. Yixing swipes his tongue across his bottom lip. He has to step away, avoiding Yifan's eye. “Sorry, uh, for ruining your shoot.”

When he glances up, Yifan dismisses Yixing's concern. “No big deal. Wanna get something to eat?”

Yixing nods, biting back a grin. “Yeah,” he says, almost too fast. “Yeah, I really would.”

He pays far less attention at dinner than he really should. Yifan brings them to another tiny restaurant tucked away down a side street that Yixing has never seen before, and orders for them. Yixing didn't have to doubt his taste though, the food is incredible.

The problem is that Yixing can't stop dwelling. He apologizes to Yifan enough times that Yifan threatens to knock him out of his chair if he does it again. He laughs and agrees, but he still ends up pushing his food around his plate. If Yifan notices, he doesn't say anything. He's not a super talkative guy, but he fills the silences that stretch as Yixing thinks. Thinks too much. Thinks about how the last time someone pointed a camera at him when he was dancing. Thinks about the path he was on, the one that's closed to him now. It hurts more than he wants it to.

When their waiter comes to take away their plates, Yifan insists that they get dessert, saying that if Yixing isn't up for talking then he might as well eat something good. His eyes on Yixing are curious, but he doesn't pry, and Yixing appreciates that more than he can say. He's being a terrible dinner companion, and he feels bad about that too.

Yifan is kind enough to give Yixing a ride home. His reasoning, he explains, is that it's too far for Yixing to lug his bag, and he even tries to pull it out of his hands when they head to the car. His concern is unnecessary, and it makes Yixing snort. “What?” Yifan demands. “I'm just trying to be helpful.”

“And you're a perfect gentleman,” Yixing pats his arm. Yifan opens his mouth as if to protest and closes it, looking away. His embarrassment makes Yixing smile wider. “But I can handle myself.”

“I'm getting that,” Yifan says, his voice soft and eyes thoughtful, and Yixing hides the flush creeping up his throat by throwing his bag in the back seat.

Somehow, despite the mess of their shoot and that last dinner, Yifan and Yixing keep talking. He wakes Yifan up with texts complaining about having to work at five am or the regular who always wants a complicated, sugar-laden frappuccino at the crack of dawn. Yifan responds with pictures of his shoes, or his pet snake. He's bad at conversation until noon, all monosyllabic, and always answers Yixing's texts, even if he's in the middle of a shoot.

The best thing though, is how Yifan starts dropping by the coffee shop a couple times a week. Sometimes he just camps out in a corner, editing photos on his computer, but more often he leans on the counter to talk to Yixing. Lu Han makes out like he's suffering, grumbling about having to take care of all the customers all by himself, but he keeps shooting Yixing these knowing smiles.

It's only a matter of time before Yifan is pretty much a daily presence in Yixing's life. Yixing is getting used to preparing a latte for Yifan's arrival at the end of his shift, to waking up to good morning messages, to having someone to hang out with on his breaks. He's even getting used to how Lu Han takes advantage of the moments when Yixing is tied up with customers to catch Yifan's attention. The two of them put their heads together and talk worryingly quietly but after all of it, Yifan still sticks around. Lu Han hasn't spilled all his secrets, then.

He's worked with Lu Han for a while, but this is the most Yixing has enjoyed his job since he started at the coffee shop. Yifan walks him to the dance studio at night, and they talk about nothing in particular, hands brushing up against each other. One night, when Yixing is feeling tired and particularly brave, he reaches for Yifan, lacing his fingers into his. He does his best to look nonchalant as he does it, but that plan melts away in the face of Yifan's huge, pleased smile. It's so broad and happy, Yixing spends most of the night's practice grinning himself.



-



The days get shorter and one night Yifan surprises Yixing, standing at the door to the studio with his camera bag as Yixing emerges. Yixing narrows his eyes at Yifan. “Were you stalking me again?” he asks suspiciously.

“You'll never know,” Yifan tells him, holding out his hand. Yixing takes it without hesitation. The size difference in their hands means that Yixing's grip is all but lost in Yifan's, but somehow their arms line up well and it's still a perfect fit. “Can I walk you home?”

Yixing watches him carefully from the corner of his eye. There's nothing expectant in Yifan's tone, and it seems like he's just playing the gentleman again. “Alright,” he agrees, and Yifan squeezes his hand quickly in response.

It's a nice night, breezy but still warm, and they take their time wandering back to Yixing's place. He likes these quiet moments, when they don't have to talk much, and he matches his pace to Yifan's long legs.

“You're so good at dancing.” Yifan breaks their silence suddenly and Yixing smiles a little at the compliment. Yifan is sparing with his praise, but he always has something nice to say about Yixing. “Why don't you do something with that? Working at a coffee place can't be your dream.”

Yixing had known that this conversation was coming. Everyone inevitably asks. That doesn't make it any more comfortable, though. “I used to teach at the studio. Minseok said I should try.” He shrugs. It hadn't gone all that well. Yixing doesn't have the presence to hold the attention of a group of kids, and he's not articulate enough to explain things properly. He did okay when demonstrating, but in the end both he and his students had found it too frustrating, and he'd bowed out. “I'm not a great teacher,” he says simply. He's staring at the ground.

A nudge to his elbow catches his attention and when he looks up at Yifan, there's a trace of concern in his eyes. Yixing waves it off.

“Okay, what about just dancing, then?” Yifan asks. “You've been doing this for a while, right? I'm sure you could find something. You're good.”

At this, Yixing falls silent for a long time. He's not going to argue that he's skilled, he puts a lot of practice into dance. It's a combination of stress relief and his never-ending drive to perfect what he does. He used to be better, though. And that's what hurts. “I can't,” he says finally, doing his best to keep the pain out of his voice. He knows it's not a real answer, and Yifan is watching him curiously, but he doesn't elaborate.

Conversation between them is stilted until they reach Yixing's door. He's glad that Jongdae is out with friends tonight. Jongdae is a great guy, charming and friendly, but he's far more perceptive than Yixing likes sometimes. There's no way he'd let Yixing spend the night without company, the way he kind of wants to right now. “Look,” Yifan says, holding Yixing's hand with both of his. “I'm sorry for bringing that up, it's obviously...” He searches for the right word. “It's obviously a sore spot.”

A sore spot? To say the least. But Yifan looks so guilty and sorry that Yixing is already shaking his head. It's his burden to bear. “No, stop,” he says insistently, and he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. It's a little bit funny, seeing someone as tall as Yifan all hunched over like a dog about to be punished. “It's - “ For the first time in a while, Yixing realizes, he wants to talk about it. He doesn't want to leave Yifan in the dark. That's an odd feeling. “Do you want to come in? I'll make dinner.”

Yifan still has his hands tight around Yixing's and he nods almost as soon as the words leave Yixing's mouth. “You cook?” he asks.

Gently disentangling his hand for long enough to unlock his door and let them inside, Yixing laughs. “I am an excellent cook,” he tells him. Yifan hesitates at the doorway and Yixing reaches back to catch his shirt and pull him inside. “I promise.”

Yifan's face lights up at that. “I haven't had a home-cooked meal in forever,” he confesses.

“Then you're in for a good night.”

Yifan follows Yixing to the small kitchen and watches as he gathers together the makings for a simple dinner. He hasn't cooked for anyone other than himself or sometimes Jongdae or Lu Han in a while, but his kitchen is one of his favourite places. He moves easily, working with a practised hand, and he puts Yifan to work too. Yixing sets him chopping vegetables and stirring pots while Yixing focuses on the more complex parts of the meal.

Conversation is light while Yixing focuses on what he's doing, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't feel Yifan's eyes on him. He never pries, and Yixing likes that. Yifan dices veggies, not very precisely, but competently, and he looks at Yixing out of the corner of his eyes, but he doesn't ask.

Yixing thanks him silently by wrapping an arm around Yifan's waist as he leans around him to check on what's cooking on the stove. The touch isn't forced, it feels natural now. Yifan reaches out automatically to steady him as he reaches for something from the top shelf, one big hand pressed against his back. It's not necessary, but the thought is sweet anyway.

The kitchen table is unfortunately messy. Neither he nor Jongdae is particularly neat, and neither of them really bother to eat real meals a lot of the time. They settle instead in the living room, coffee table pulled up close to the couch so they don't have to balance their plates on their knees. They eat eat mostly in silence, but when Yixing turns to Yifan to ask him how it is, he gets a thumbs up in return.

Finally, Yixing lets his chopsticks fall into his bowl with a clatter. “When I was nineteen, I was a back up dancer.” He pushes his bowl away and stares at his hands. “It was good, it was my dream. Everything was perfect. We were training to support the debut of this group, and it was going to be my first time onstage too, so I was pushing really hard. I - “ He exhales through his teeth and swallows hard. “I pushed too hard. Spent all day and all night in the practice room, exhausted myself. I misjudged my footing, rolled my ankle, and I landed funny on my knee.” Without thinking, he rubbed a hand across his knee at the memory. “I tore a ligament. I saw a doctor but they said I had to stay off it for at least a week.” He sighs and shakes his head, shrugging a shoulder. “This was the biggest moment of my career, of my life. I couldn't do that. So I went ahead and did the show. I was in agony afterwards. I aggravated the tear, and.” Yixing glances over at Yifan. His eyes on Yixing are steady and warm. “I had to let it heal for over a month. When I finally started again, it wasn't the same. I lost a lot of my flexibility and strength. I had to quit.”

“I'm sorry,” Yifan says immediately, quietly.

Yixing nods, but he doesn't answer him. “The thing is,” he says. “The thing is, I didn't know what to do without dance. It was my life, it was my future, it was supposed to be what I did until I was too old to dance anymore.” He laughs a little, sadly, and Yifan slides a hand across Yixing's shoulder, not pulling him into a hug but resting, warm and solid, curled around his neck. “After that I...just floated. Got the job at the coffee shop. It took me a long time before I could go back to practising without it hurting. Not physically, I mean, but. Well, you know.” He's avoiding Yifan's eyes again. He doesn't want to be pitied. “And I still don't know what I'm doing. It's not fun.”

There's a long stretch of silence between them, and Yifan's thumb rubs against the base of his neck, rhythmic and comforting. “I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't take pictures,” Yifan says. His voice startles Yixing with how close it sounds and he realizes that Yifan has scooted a little closer to him on the couch. “I'd say you've landed on your feet, and that's more than a lot people can say.” When Yixing raises his eyebrows at him, Yifan raises a hand. “You work hard at whatever you're given. Once you know what you want, I know you'll be able to get it.”

They've only known each other for a couple of months, but the certainty in Yifan's tone makes Yixing's cheeks warm. His chest aches a bit, like it always does when he thinks about this stuff too much, but the pressure of Yifan's fingers on his skin eases it. So does the relief of confession. Yifan makes no false platitudes about Yixing's strength during these rough times, or how hard it must have been, and that's almost the best part. When he looks at Yixing, it's with understanding, like suddenly he gets why Yixing is the way he is. “You're a sap,” he tells Yifan, and Yifan smiles, leaning in to press his head to Yixing's

“But I'm right, too,” he asserts, and Yixing reaches up to rest his hand on top of Yifan's, leaning into his touch.

The tension eased, they talk long into the night. When he looks up at the clock and sees it's long past midnight, Yixing stands up with a start. “Shit,” he says. “I have to open tomorrow.”

Yifan's eyes widen. “I had no idea what time it was. I'm keeping you awake, I should get home.”

Yixing is already shaking his head. They'd walked here and it was way too late for Yifan to be wandering around outside on his own. “No, it's fine,” he says. “You can crash on the couch. I mean, if you're okay with that?”

Yifan eyes the couch, and Yixing can already tell it will be too short for his long legs. “Sure,” Yifan says anyway. He must be tired, Yixing decides. “As long as I get a pillow.”

Yixing grabs him some bedding and eventually Yifan settles in on the couch, feet hanging off the end. Yixing has to struggle not to laugh at the sight. When he bids Yifan good night, Yifan reaches up for his hand and squeezes it quickly. Yixing doesn't have to fight to sleep that night.

The alarm clock goes off far too early for his taste, but Yixing is well used to waking up before the sun, even if he doesn't like it. He trips over Yifan's feet in the living room and stumbles, nearly toppling over in his sleepy state. Yifan jerks and blinks at him, looking displeased. “No wonder you're always whining about having to go to work,” Yifan mumbles. “This time of day is inhumane.”

“Now you know my pain,” Yixing yawns. He sets the coffee brewing and then heads to the shower. “If you need something to wear, feel free to raid my closet,” he tells Yifan.

A shower is his favourite way to wake up. The heat washes away the sleep, feels like a fresh start. When he emerges, Yifan has barely moved. He's managed to push himself into a sitting position, squinting at Yixing as he drips across the living room. The apartment smells like fresh coffee. “Not a morning person?” Yixing teases. Yifan grunts and rubs fiercely at his eyes.

Yixing moves through his morning routine and mostly just moves around Yifan. He pours him a cup of coffee, which Yifan accepts gratefully, and that seems to help, at least a little. He winces and rubs at his neck, probably a product of having slept on the couch. Yixing takes pity on him, massages his neck a little, and zombie Yifan smiles a little. “You need a better couch,” he tells Yixing.

“Yeah, maybe,” Yixing says, turning away to gather his things. He ducks into his bedroom and grabs a shirt, tossing it to Yifan. It hits him in the face and he pulls it off, grimacing. “You don't have to wear it, but I didn't think a guy like you would want to wear the same thing two days in a row.” He can't pretend he hasn't noticed the care Yifan takes in his appearance. He always looks so well put-together.

Yifan tugs his rumpled shirt over his head and Yixing's eyes widen at the sight of Yifan's broad chest. He turns away quickly, doing his best to make the motion casual. “A guy like me?” Yifan asks as he pulls on Yixing's shirt. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Lucky for Yixing, he recovers quickly. “Nothing,” he says sweetly. He has a bit of time, so he leans against the doorway, finishing up his coffee.

“Hey,” Yifan stands, a bit unsteadily, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Whose is that?” He points to a guitar that rests in the corner. Yixing picks up Yifan's coffee from where he has already forgotten it on the table and hands it to him. He looks surprised and nods a thank you.

“Mine,” Yixing says, a bit embarrassed. He hasn't picked it up in a while, and he's not proud of that fact. “I just like to mess around with it sometimes.”

“You play guitar?” Yifan asks, raising his eyebrows. “I'm impressed.”

Yixing drains his cup and shakes his head. “Nothing to be impressed by. Now come on, I'm gonna be late.”

With great reluctance, Yifan sets down his mug and follows Yixing out the door. On the walk to the coffee shop, Yifan continuously yawns and grumbles about having to wake up at the crack of dawn and leave the house without properly doing his hair. It makes Yixing laugh, and he slings an arm around Yifan's waist as they walk. “But look,” he says. “How often do you get to see the sunrise?”

Yifan looks down at Yixing, a fond, sleepy smile on his face. “Such an optimist,” he says, but he stops his complaining, wrapping an arm around Yixing's shoulders instead.

He surprises Yixing when they reach the coffee shop, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Yixing's forehead before he heads off to his car. It's a sweet little gesture, and of course Lu Han is already in and sees it happen. He spends the entirety of their shift teasing Yixing mercilessly. Yixing would be embarrassed, except he keeps getting quick short texts from Yifan, complaining about how tired he is, or mentioning that his shirt smells like Yixing. Yixing can't quit smiling.

They keep up their meetings over the next few weeks, and now Yixing knows how to make Yifan's favourite drink by heart. Yifan has Yixing's schedule memorized, and he still likes to pop up after Yixing's dance practices. Sometimes he catches Yifan with his camera at the back of the practice room, but sometimes he doesn't. He never minds, not anymore. Yifan's camera is an extension of himself, he's always got it with him.

As winter approaches, Yifan drops a bomb on him one night. “I have an art show coming up,” he tells Yixing as they walk back to his place. The night is cold but the tight grip Yifan has on Yixing's hand helps keep him warm.

Yixing snakes an arm around Yifan's shoulders and gives him a tight squeeze. “Congratulations!” he exclaims. It almost surprises him, how proud he is of Yifan, and when he looks up at him, he sees that pride reflected in Yifan's eyes. There's also an undercurrent of nerves, though.

Yifan licks his lips. “The photos I'm showing, they're from our shoots.”

Stumbling to a halt, Yixing blinks at Yifan. “...what?” he asks weakly.

Yifan blanches, turns to face him. “I'm sorry,” he says quickly. “I should've asked, I thought it'd be okay, you were okay with me taking them, so I just assumed - “

Yixing is at a loss for words. He knew that Yifan was a photographer, and he knew that he was good, but he somehow just hadn't equated that to Yifan having an actual career, one where he shows his art to people. His art that just happens to include Yixing. “Oh, whoa,” Yixing said. Before Yifan could apologize again, he cut him off. “You're headed to the big time, huh?”

Hesitantly, Yifan smiles. “So it's okay?”

It is, Yixing realizes. Maybe part of why he'd agreed to let Yifan take photos of him because Yifan was handsome and talented and Yixing likes the attention, but it would be selfish of him to refuse to let Yifan use any of those pictures, especially when they were so good. He wouldn't do that. “Of course,” he says, and he reaches for Yifan's hand again, pulling him forward. “Doesn't everyone want to see my beautiful face?”

Yifan snorts. “Something like that.” He's relieved though, exhaling with a sigh and his shoulders relaxing. Yixing feels a bit guilty for making him worry. The show will be a huge opportunity for Yifan, and Yixing would never stand in the way of that.

While the show is a huge deal, it also starts to take up a lot of Yifan's time. He still comes to the coffee shop, but now he's almost always stuck behind his laptop or on his cell phone, trying to coordinate everything. It's not the first show he's participated in, Yixing gathers, but it'll be the first where he's the only artist, and there's a lot of pressure on him. Yixing can see it in the tight lines of his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes. Yixing is a little at a loss, he hates seeing Yifan so stressed like this. He settles for supplying Yifan with as much free coffee as he needs and occasionally dragging him away from his laptop when the way his eyebrows furrow becomes fierce and more angry than usual.

He doesn't ask to see the pictures Yifan is using, and Yifan doesn't offer to show him. Yixing thinks that maybe they both have the same idea, that seeing them, all together at the show, that will give it more of an impact.

Yifan catches Yixing's wrist one afternoon as he drops another coffee off for him. “I can't believe I forgot this,” Yifan says, shaking his head at himself. “Will you come to the show?”

“Yeah, of course,” Yixing tells him, a little confused. He'd thought that was assumed, that he would definitely come to support Yifan.

“No, I mean,” Yifan takes a deep breath and Yixing is reminded again of how fond he is of Yifan when he's nervous. “Will you come with me? As my date.”

Across the cafe, Lu Han whistles. Yixing turns and throws a rag at him with one quick, strong motion. “Yeah,” he says in a rush. Yifan's fingers are still tight around his wrist and Yixing grins down at him. “Yeah, I would love to.”

Impulsively, Yifan tugs him down into his lap and Yixing yelps as he's engulfed in a hug. Lu Han is catcalling them from behind the bar and Yixing doesn't even care.

While Yifan is wrapped up with preparations for the show, Yixing adjusts, again, to spending more time on his own. Since Yifan reminded him of his guitar, he finds himself picking it up more and more often, noodling around with it while he has the TV on low, pleased when he discovers he still remembers how to play fairly well. He has to work to get his calluses back, but it's a small price to pay. He'd forgotten how rewarding it was, learning songs. Sometimes he even sings too, although only when Jongdae isn't home. It's been even longer since he sang, and his voice is rough from lack of practice.

Of course, as the show rolls closer, Yixing comes to one terrible conclusion: he hasn't got the slightest idea what to wear. What do you wear to an art show? He's never been one for style, between dancing and working at the coffee shop he's pared his wardrobe down to what's most comfortable and gives him the most mobility. He doesn't want to embarrass Yifan, though. Yifan is always so impeccably dressed, and he's supposed to be his date. He has to look good too.

Yixing turns to the only person he can think of: Lu Han. Lu Han is delighted for so many reasons, not the least of which being that they're finally going on a date and he was right, of course.

They have to go shopping, and Yixing is glad he has a bit of money saved up. The kind of clothes Lu Han is looking at are not cheap. In the end, they find something, despite Lu Han forcing him to try everything on and constantly getting distracted by the cute sales clerk. When Yixing points out that he's probably too young for Lu Han, Lu Han waves him off and slips the kid his number. It's all well and good, but there's less than a week until the show, and Yixing is trying to find something to wear. And Lu Han? Currently not being very helpful.

His own nerves about the show are wiped away in the face of Yifan's. The last week before the show, Yifan practically lives at the gallery, setting everything up and organizing everything as best he can. He has people to help him, but this is his first real show, and he's taking it very seriously. Yixing brings them all coffee, and Yifan is thankful, but he's distracted, sometimes to the point where he forgets Yixing is there.

By the time the opening rolls around, though, Yifan is in his element. Things are going smoothly and Yixing watches him stroll around the gallery, greeting patrons by name and thanking everyone for showing up. He's charming and charismatic, well-dressed in his nicely pressed slacks and expensive shirt. He's much more relaxed now that everything has come together, and he gets to enjoy his moment.

Yixing, however? Not so much. He's not much for art, so instead he stands in the corner, a bit lost. Lu Han had promised to show up, but he hasn't seen him yet, and instead he sips on a glass of water and nods awkwardly to the people who pass him by, eyes widening in recognition.

Of course they recognize him – his face is plastered everywhere here. That makes his stomach lurch, too. Yifan has a knack for catching the parts of his dancing that stick out. Yixing lingers by one photo. It's from the day of their failed shoot and Yixing is on his knees, clearly upset and frustrated. Yixing wonders if he's always been so easy to read.

“There you are.” Long fingers curl into his as Yifan comes up beside him. He looks him over quickly and smiles approvingly. “You look great. Want me to give you the grand tour?”

Something about Yifan's steady hand in his anchors Yixing, makes him feel a little less lost. “Definitely,” he agrees.

Yifan takes him around the room, speaking quietly as they pause at each photo, explaining why he chose it. How the lighting catches Yixing's joy at getting a move right, how the angle emphasizes the expression in Yixing's eyes. Maybe it's not necessary, but Yixing curls a hand around Yifan's elbow and leans close to catch his words. Yifan's eyes curve into a smile and he doesn't complain.

It's almost overwhelming, in a good way. With his photography, Yifan is thoughtful, meticulous. It's almost as if he's been using it as a way to understand Yixing better, through his art and Yixing's love of dance.

They're sidelined frequently, by people who want to speak to the photographer himself, men and women who lavish praise on Yifan. He accepts it all gratefully, introduces Yixing as his 'muse' (Yixing is never, ever mentioning that to Lu Han), and then gently disengages with them, taking Yixing with him.

“Not really your scene, huh?” Yifan laughs when he sees Yixing's face after the third encounter with a wealthy middle-aged woman who can't stop gushing over the 'handsome, talented young man' in front of her.

“Not so much,” Yixing admits.

Nodding, Yifan gestures to one of the servers. “Beer?” Yixing can't agree quickly enough.

He can't monopolize Yifan's time all night, as much as he'd like to, so after a bit he lets Yifan go off to do his thing. At least now he's got a beer, which helps a bit. It's still a bit disconcerting to be surrounded by pictures of his own face, but he's getting used to it.

“Hey!” Yixing turns to see Amber, the waitress from the restaurant approach, a tall young man with sleepy eyes trailing her. “It's the dancer! Nice to see you, man.” She sticks out her hand for him to shake.

“Yixing,” he reminds her, but he's not really offended.

Amber laughs. “Oh, trust me, I know your name.” She waves a hand at the photos on the wall. “How could I forget?”

Yixing laughs and ducks his head, a bit embarrassed. “Oh,” says the kid behind her, leaning in and looking interested. “Is this the boyfriend?”

Yixing is pretty sure he's never blushed harder in his life. He coughs and covers his mouth with a hand, casting about for a good answer for that. “Not...sort of?”

Hooking a companionable arm around Yixing's shoulders, Amber grins at him. “Dude, you are so red right now. It's amazing.” Yixing suddenly understands Yifan's state of near-violence when around her.

“Amber, Zitao,” Yifan looms out of nowhere, and Yixing is incredibly relieved to see him. “I'm glad you could make it. How about you stop harassing my date and go get yourself something to drink.” His tone makes it clear that it's not a suggestion and the way he smiles is both pleasant and incredibly dangerous.

Amber looks completely unaffected. “Date!” she exclaims, and she slugs Yifan in the arm. “Finally, jeez. I thought you'd never get around to it.” Sliding away from Yixing, she grabs Zitao and tugs him away. “We'll leave you two alone now.” Zitao looks like he wants to object but Amber is insistent.

Yixing watches them leave, then turns to Yifan. “I can't decide whether introducing her to Lu Han would be a good idea, or the worst idea ever.” Yifan laughs and pulls Yixing into a hug. Yixing's arms come up to curl around Yifan's waist and he rests his chin on Yifan's shoulder.

“Thank you for coming,” Yifan says into Yixing's hair. Yixing can feel Yifan's heartbeat against his chest and it's nice. He's reluctant to let Yifan go, but he knows they have to be aware of where they are. “I feel so much more relaxed with you around.”

Yixing feels that familiar flood of warmth in his chest when Yifan looks down at him, smiles in that way that he only ever sees directed at him, small and secret and fond. “You don't need me here,” he protests. “You've got this under control.”

Yifan shrugs. “But I like having you here.” Someone calls his name from across the room, and with an apologetic look, he slips off again.

Coming up behind him, Amber whistles, low, and it startles Yixing. She reminds him way too much of Lu Han, if only in how the two of them were irritating and terrible. “I've never see him like this,” she says, raising her drink to her mouth.

“Like what?” Yixing asks curiously.

“This happy,” she replies, and when she looks him over again, this time it's searching and serious. “I don't have to threaten to break your face if you break his heart, right?”

“No,” Yixing replies, just as serious. “I don't think you do.”

Amber nods, satisfied. “I thought you were good people.” She slings her arm around his shoulder again. “C'mon, show me the good pictures, the ones where you're making stupid faces.” Yixing laughs.

He spends most of the rest of the night with her and Zitao, talking to Yifan when he gets the chance, and Lu Han when he finally shows up. Lu Han, of course, is still delighted by the whole date thing, but he is also delighted by one of the waiters Yifan had hired. He waxes melodic about his beautiful mouth until Yixing forcibly shoves him towards the waiter and tells him to ask the damn kid out. Lu Han is more than happy to oblige.

People begin to filter out as the night progresses, and by the time the show wraps up, Yixing and Yifan are some of the only people left. It takes a bit of persuading on Yixing's part, but Yifan finally agrees to let the staff handle the clean up after the show and go home and get some sleep. When he casually throws in that maybe, Yifan could crash at his place, and not on the couch this time, Yifan's tired eyes light up.

Yixing gets the best sleep he's gotten in a long time, curled up against Yifan's long body. He likes how comfortably he fits under Yifan's arm and when he wakes up, Yifan shifts and sighs in his sleep, pulling Yixing closer. He's so, so glad that Lu Han agreed to work his open today, because getting to sleep in and wake up next to Yifan was totally worth it.

Whether or not it's just the fact that he's moving a little more, Yifan wakes up soon afterwards, blinking sleepily at Yixing and then smiling at him. He ignores morning breath grossness and tips his head down to kiss Yixing, and Yixing doesn't mind in the slightest, fisting a hand in Yifan's shirt and pulling him close.

“I have to go back to the gallery today.” It's the first thing Yifan says, and his tone is faintly disappointed. “I'd rather stay here with you.”

Yixing yawns and lets his eyes slide shut, head resting against Yifan's shoulder. “Do you think they'd be okay with that?” he mumbles. “I mean, I am your muse and all.”

Yifan presses his face into the top of Yixing's head and laughs. “You're more than that.”

Propping himself up so he can get a good look at Yifan, Yixing eyes him seriously. He wants to tease Yifan for the cheesiness of that line, but he also senses an opening. “Am I?” he asks. After a second's hesitation, he adds: “In like, the official sense?”

“Yes, in the official sense,” Yifan snorts, pulling him down again. He settles his arms around Yixing's waist, tugging him in close. “Now come on, I don't have to be in until later and I have to sleep off this week long caffeine hangover.”

Yixing grumbles something about Yifan being bossy, but he's too happy to put much force behind it. He walks his fingers up Yifan's side until Yifan catches his hand and holds it tight. It doesn't take long to nod off again.

When they wake up again later, Yixing lets Yifan lay around in bed while he makes them breakfast. It's late enough to be brunch, but he's making breakfast food anyway. Yifan sneaks up behind him in the kitchen and wraps his arms around Yixing's waist, peering at the frying pan over his shoulder. “I could get used to this,” he tells Yixing.

“I'd rather you didn't,” Jongdae calls as he darts from his room to the door to the apartment. He's grinning at the two of them. “I mean, unless you plan on feeding me too.”

“Depends on how nice you are,” Yixing tells him, and Jongdae laughs, slipping out the door to his class.

They flick on the tv as they eat, Yixing's feet resting in Yifan's lap. “You know,” Yifan says slowly, gesturing at the guitar still resting against the wall. “You could totally sign up for one of those open mic nights. Just something to think about.”

Yixing rolls his eyes. “If you want to hear me play, you just have to ask.”

Yifan pinches his ankle and Yixing yelps, putting down his bowl in order to launch himself at Yifan and retaliate in earnest. It is so on.

While he's digging his fingers into Yifan's sides, trying to make him squirm, he sees his phone light up out of the corner of his eye. “Hold on,” he says, and reaches for it. Yifan doesn't make it easy, locking one leg around Yixing's thighs and tugging him back but he finally manages to get his fingers around it. He sees his parents' number on the screen and his lips twist.

Yifan catches the expression. “What's wrong?” he asks, hands stilling.

“Nothing,” Yixing shakes his head. “Just my parents.”

“Well, don't ignore them on my behalf,” Yifan says. He nods his head at the phone. “Go ahead.”

Pressing the ignore button, Yixing tosses his phone back onto the coffee table and sprawls across Yifan's chest instead. “No,” he says. “I don't much feel like being lectured right now. I'm having too good a day.” He sounds childish and he knows it, and it makes him grimace at himself.

Yifan tips his head and looks at Yixing. “You don't get along with them?”

Watching the rise and fall of Yifan's chest, Yixing shakes his head. “No, I do. But they ask the same questions every week. When are you going to get a real job? The usual.”

“Ah.” Yifan's hand comes to rest against Yixing's waist. “And you don't know the answer yourself, and that bothers you, and it makes things worse.”

“Basically.”

Yifan hums in response, tone vaguely understanding. “You can't just not talk to them forever,” he points out.

“I know that,” Yixing sits up and looks at Yifan, annoyed. “But right now I'm kinda busy being happy with this one dude so maybe I want to enjoy it.”

The look Yifan gives Yixing is soft and affectionate. “Oh, well, when you put it that way...” He laughs. Yixing rolls his eyes, about to complain again about how bossy Yifan is but Yifan is pulling him down into a kiss again. The novelty of it hasn't worn off yet, so he gives in, smiling against Yifan's lips.



-



Something about Yifan's suggestion about performing sticks in Yixing's head. He's happy, happier than he's been in a long time, and a lot of that has to do with Yifan. That doesn't change the fact, though, that he's still working long hours at a job he's not particularly fond of and doesn't pay well either. On the walk to work one morning, his eyes catch a poster advertising an open mic night at a local cafe. He quickly snaps a pic with his phone so he has the details. If nothing else, he can think about it.

At work, Lu Han tells him he's moping. When Yixing tries to argue Lu Han just waves a stern finger in his face and refuses to hear it. “What's up?” Lu Han asks, talking loudly to be heard over the coffee grinder. “You have this look on your face like you're thinking too much but pretending like everything's fine.” He props his chin up on one hand and looks at Yixing.

Lu Han knows him far too well. “It's nothing,” Yixing says. When Lu Han narrows his eyes at him, he elaborates. “You're right,” Yixing tells him, knowing that that will pacify Lu Han. “I'm just thinking too much.”

Lu Han's mouth twists into a frown, and Yixing knows he can tell that Yixing isn't telling him everything. He lets it slide, instead throwing an arm around Yixing's hips and giving him a quick squeeze. “Imagine that,” he teases. “Zhang Yixing, using too much of his brain.”

Pouring a drink for a customer, Yixing nudges Lu Han off with an elbow. “I hate you,” he says cheerfully.

Lu Han takes the woman's cash and hands her back her change. “I know,” he replies just as pleasantly. The woman watches the two of them, amused, as they break into laughter.

He mentions the poster to Yifan later that week, and Yifan insists he go. “It can't hurt, right?” he says from his spot on the couch, head in Yixing's lap. “Those things are full of teenagers with a lot of feelings. Worst case scenario, you look like one of those.”

Yixing thumps a hand down on Yifan's chest. “You don't even know if I'm any good,” he points out.

Straightening up alarmingly fast, Yifan points at the guitar. “Okay,” he says. “So show me. Play me something.”

“You want me to serenade you?” Yixing asks. Yifan rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright.” Yixing climbs to his feet and grabs the instrument. Yifan watches him expectantly, settling himself back against the couch. “You're pushy, you know that?” he tells Yifan.

Yifan shrugs a shoulder and says nothing. Taking a deep breath, Yixing takes a seat on the coffee table and strums a few times to loosen himself up. He's mostly wasting time, though, a little bit nervous, and he can tell Yifan knows it from the fond way he tips his head and raises his eyebrows. Playing while Jongdae is in the apartment is one thing, but Yifan watching is another. He hasn't played for anyone since he was a kid.

“You know,” he says conversationally, idly playing a few chords. “I wrote a song once. For a girlfriend of mine. I was trying to get her back.”

“Did it work?”

Yixing grins. “For a bit.” He messes around for a bit longer and then bends his head over the guitar, his eyes sliding shut as his fingers automatically find the chords he wants. The song he sings is familiar to him, a favourite to cover, something a Chinese pop starlet had sung a few years ago. It's sweet and a bit sad, something he's always had a soft spot for.

He's still not sure he's practiced enough, but he sings anyway, starting out soft but his voice getting stronger and surer. When he looks up, there's an odd look in Yifan's eyes, something he can't read, and his eyes drop back to his hands instead. He's pleasantly surprised by how he sounds, with only a few weeks practice.

He's even more pleased by the way Yifan breaks into a round of applause when he's done, what Yixing now recognizes as pride written all across his face. “Do you have any other secret talents hidden up your sleeve?” he asks.

Yixing laughs, ducking his head and rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Not really,” he says. “Does being able to nap anywhere count?”

“You're gonna kill them,” Yifan declares, and he stands to bend over Yixing, curling a hand around the back of his neck and kissing him. “So talented.”

“Flatterer,” Yixing mumbles against his lips.

Yifan shakes his head imperceptibly. “Just honest.”



-



Yixing's been convinced, he's going to do it. Lu Han is so excited when he tells him, and decides to gather together all their friends for support. It means when the night of the open mic actually rolls around, there's a table up front crowded with a rowdy group of people cheering him on. Yixing had expected to be embarrassed by them, but he's mostly just happy to see them all. Amber is shouting at him to bear her children while Lu Han laughs.

He's still nervous though, running his tongue across his bottom lip and taking a deep breath. The last time he performed in front of a crowd, he'd been an over-confident teenager. It's been a while. His eyes find Yifan, right up front, and Yifan flashes him that quick small smile. It calms some of the rushing in his veins and he nods back.

It's just an open mic night, so he only plays a few songs, but it goes way better than he thought it would. The noise the small crowd makes is encouraging, and Yixing really gets into it. By the time he finishes the third song, his last, and climbs off the stage, he's surprised by a few people who want to congratulate him, who compliment him. There's a young man who's so earnest and excited, all big wide eyes, and it hits Yixing all of a sudden. He can do this. He can do this.

Yifan engulfs him in a hug and then the rest of them are all there, standing beside the stage. Minseok pushes a drink into his hand and Lu Han scolds him, loudly, for never telling him about his singing before. Yifan still has one arm tight around Yixing's waist and while the others are all chattering excitedly, he presses a kiss to the side of Yixing's head and tells him how proud of him he is.

Yixing had forgotten what it was like, the rush he got from performing on stage, and he feels like he's riding a high. They all go out to celebrate afterwards and Yixing doesn't even mind the good-natured ribbing he gets from his friends, the way, after a few beers, Zitao grabs a napkin and starts insisting that Yixing sign it so he can sell it when he's famous. Jongdae joins him and then the two of them are shoving their hands in Yixing's face and exclaiming about how handsome he is and Yixing is laughing so hard he can't breathe.

He and Yifan go back to Yifan's apartment that night. They're only a little drunk, and when Yixing starts going through Yifan's cupboards, looking for something he can turn into a late night snack for them, Yifan comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Yixing's waist and pressing his lips against the back of his neck. His mouth is insistent and Yixing sighs, leaning into his touch.

They don't make it to the bedroom. Yifan presses Yixing up against the counter and strips Yixing's shirt off, tossing it aside. It hits the fridge and manages, somehow, to hang precariously off the top. Yixing will probably find that funny in the morning, but right now he's much more interested in sliding his hands across the flat planes of Yifan's chest and sucking a dark mark into the skin of his throat.

He keens when Yifan pushes in. Yifan is solicitous, lavishing attention on him and the murmured endearments surprise Yixing, make him smile and pull Yifan in for a heated kiss. Just like this, ankles locked around Yifan's waist, fingers digging into his shoulders, everything is absolutely perfect.

The next morning it takes three tries for them to get out of bed. Every time Yixing tries to get up, to make breakfast, to do anything, Yifan drags him back, complaining that it's too early. Yixing really isn't complaining though, because Yifan has the nicest bed, and the company isn't too bad either.

Yixing makes it a habit of going to all of the local open mic nights, getting more experience and building up his confidence. That same kid with the big eyes shows up every time, and his unbridled enthusiasm doesn't hurt anything either. It feels so good, getting on to that little stage. It's not the compliments or the cheering or any of that, it's just the sense of something clicking into place.

When he's not at work or with Yifan, he's bent over his guitar, practising. Slowly but surely, he works on writing a song, too. Despite Lu Han dropping repeated hints, he doesn't share it with anyone. He wants to get it right before he unveils it to anyone. He's never focused so closely on music like this before, and it feels good. He has a direction again, a goal. That realization is a rush.

One night, when Yifan and Yixing reach Yixing's apartment after his usual dance practice, there's a light flashing on his answering machine. Yixing presses play.

“A call back?” Yifan asks curiously when the message is done. “A call back for what?”

Yixing's heart is pounding and he feels a bit giddy. He'd thought that maybe he was good enough for them, but he hadn't expected an answer so quickly. “It's this talent show,” he says. “I tried out last week, and I guess I passed on to the next round.” His voice is steady but he can't help the grin that stretches broadly across his face.

Yifan squeezes his shoulder. “A talent show, huh? You never said anything.”

“I didn't want to jinx it.”

Pushing Yixing towards the bathroom, Yifan speaks again. “Alright, then, go shower. We're going to go celebrate. Dinner's on me.” Yixing tries to protest, but Yifan's got on his serious voice, the one that brooks no argument, so he just bows in mock obedience and slips into the bathroom.

A few days later, Yixing is sitting in a waiting room, guitar propped up next to him. His leg jitters nervously. This is it. The big moment.

His phone hasn't stopped going off in the last hour. Lu Han has texted him every variation of 'you can do it!' in every language he can think of and some that might be fictional, half to be supportive and half to be annoying. The text he keeps opening though, and the one that is helping the most right now, is the one from Yifan. you're gonna kill it and you know it. knock em dead.

“Number fifty three?” The woman at the door is looking at him expectantly and Yixing gets up immediately, taking a deep breath. He's got this. He grabs his guitar and walks through the door.

“Your name?”

“Zhang Yixing,” he answers. He takes the seat offered and fidgets a little, getting comfortable. As he settles the guitar in his lap, suddenly his nerves calm and everything seems clearer.

“Go ahead, whenever you're ready.”

Yixing takes a few steady breaths and turns to the judges panel and smiles. He's right where he belongs.