#285: please know that I’m yours to keep

[lordchen]

Prompt: #285
Title: please know that I’m yours to keep
Pairing: Chen/Lay
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: swearing, brief mentions of sex
Word count: 15,351 words
Summary: First, there is Jongdae and there is Yixing: green scrubs, rooftops, and lunch breaks. And then there is Jongdae and Yixing: the sun and its rise.
Author's note: This could potentially be a train wreck, but I hope you enjoy the ride!! #laychenrules



Kim Jongdae has one rule in life.

A single, crucial rule in life that one must carry with themselves like a motto they should live by, and that is: Do Not Trust Byun Baekhyun. It’s what he told people at his medical school graduation when Baekhyun had tripped him up as he went to get his diploma and even what he yelled as the cameraman tried to get all 150 classmates into a group picture, choosing to opt out of the conventional ‘cheese!’. It’s what he warned his new workmates when they all met each other for the first day of their internship, gathered in the locker room for a cute group pep talk before getting engulfed in the wrath of their residents. It’s also what he used to give advice to the new interns in his second year internship as both he and Baekhyun had been assigned to watch over the beginners. It is probably what he’ll tell you to do, you know, if you ever meet him.

Life before Baekhyun had been blissful; they had met in the first year of med school. Jongdae surely has his moments when he regrets befriending Baekhyun, who was the boy his mother warned him to avoid in the body of a handsome young man with a talent in the field of general surgery, but there are things that Baekhyun has done for him - and continue to do for him – that makes Jongdae think that no, they do have their true bromance moments that outweigh all the shit Baekhyun gives him. Like that one time in their third year of med school when Jongdae partied too hard and ended up missing a day of intense classes and Baekhyun successfully covered for him – even if it meant using ‘sorry, he has diarrhoea!’ as an excuse. Or that one time Jongdae took a risk, came out to his parents and although it didn't end badly, it hurt somehow and Baekhyun was there (he’s always there) to let him cry into his arms and wipe his stuffy nose into the crook of his shoulder.

Honestly, there are so many things about Baekhyun that Jongdae is grateful for. Being dragged to a kiddie party (read: interns on a rare and free Friday night) is one of them.

Here’s the real deal: Jongdae’s boyfriend of four months, Jonghyun, dumped him over text three hours prior to the party because he apparently could not handle Jongdae’s work hours and inability to focus on anything that isn’t surgical procedures. Jongdae wasn’t really that upset over it, to be honest – they had been fighting and fading away for quite a while. Still, it is more than a little disappointing, but he figures that it’s another something work can heal. Baekhyun turned up on Jongdae’s doorstep with a fierce fire in his eyes, demanding him to put his best jeans on (“Which pair?” “Obviously go for the ones that make your ass look good!” “But they all do!”) and in less than twenty minutes, Baekhyun had Jongdae out of his apartment.

You really should not, could not, cannot trust Byun Baekhyun because, clearly, with work the next day and a lack of sleep from the previous round of surgical assists, it should’ve been a bad idea. With six shots of tequila lined up for him and Baekhyun at a table covered with a questionable cherub print cover, a strange fruity-scented man wearing a china glass bowl on his head and mismatched Vans on his feet, it really should’ve been a bad idea.

But right now there is a firm arm wound around his waist, tugging him closer and closer until every inch of exposed skin on skin burns drunken sparks around him and his lips are aching from constant biting and sucking and – yes, Jongdae is having the time of his life making out with a random guy and who is Baekhyun at a time like this?

Jongdae has his hands busy with the stranger’s shirt, desperately fumbling with the buttons while his legs are long gone. There is thigh wedged between his own and he’s so, so terribly weak at the knees. He pulls away for a second to gather his breath, keeping his eyes closed and fingers moving, before hungrily diving in again for more. He moans when the stranger shrugs off his shirt once Jongdae has managed to unbutton it properly and he lets his hands roam down. He lets out a shudder, flustered and erratic, when he feels hardened muscles beneath smooth skin on the pane of the stranger’s stomach and god, it feels so good that Jongdae just cannot deal. Thank God for the alcohol.

“Jongdae,” he mutters breathlessly, breaking their kiss. He gulps, throat drying with every shallow breath, and leans his forehead on the chest of the other guy, fisting his fingers into his shirt. “My name is Jongdae.”

He hears a muffled gasp of breath, almost like a chuckle, blow air against his neck. The stranger eagerly traces kisses along Jongdae’s jawline, giving kittenish licks here and there until Jongdae is gasping for more.

He gives Jongdae a peck on the lips, grinning when he says, “Hey, Jongdae. I’m Yixing.”

How is it possible that someone so hot could be so adorable at the same time? Jongdae looks up and finds himself taking in the way the smile curves his cheeks, flashes his dimple and reaches his eyes. Yixing is so undeniably handsome.

Jongdae feels a new static thrill buzz in his fingers as he traces the waistband of Yixing’s boxers where it peeks above his jeans, relishing the stumble of breath the latter hitches. Then Yixing gives him another devilish grin, his eyes ablaze with red and gold, inviting him in for more.

So Jongdae takes a deep breath in, pulls Yixing in by the neck and closes his eyes. There’s a hand on his waist trailing down, down, down and, slowly, everything begins to burn white.

+++

“I am going to fucking kill you.”

Baekhyun is hardly startled by Jongdae slamming his locker in his face but he is quite very surprised at the blotches of purple and blue sprinkled along his best friend’s neck. He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. “Was he a good lay or did you come in looking like you ended up in the gutter on purpose?”

Jongdae looks like shit and he knows it. His hair is tousled in all kinds of places, his eyes slightly strained red and his breath smells an awful lot like he’s just eaten a dead rat. Baekhyun jokingly sniffs the air, scrunching his nose before reopening his locker to pull out his toothbrush and toothpaste to hand them to Jongdae.

Jongdae may look like he’s seething with anger, but smelling like a zombie rodent isn’t on his priority list so he takes them anyway. “You were supposed to be my ride home and you just left me there, you jerk!”

“I honestly don’t remember saying that. And I’m surprised you can remember that,” Baekhyun muses. He taps his chin thoughtfully, leaning against his locker, and then shrugs. “Eh, what can you do, really? We were both blissfully intoxicated and Junmyeon offered
to pick me up.”

Jongdae groans, huffing over to the bench across their lockers. “That’s really fucking great, Baek. You went home with your boyfriend and I woke up in a porcelain bathtub.”

Baekhyun shrugs his shoulders, wiggling his eyebrows at his friend. “But you had fun in that porcelain bathtub, right?”
Jongae glares. “I woke up in a bathtub, of all places. Naked and in someone else’s bathtub.” He cringes at the memory, hazy flashes of a white-walled bathroom and cherub-print shower curtains coming back to him. He had woken up alone, naked, location unknown, naked, and an hour late for work. “Why is it that I only ever feel shameful when I’m roped into your dumb ideas? I was raised to be a good boy.”

Baekhyun lets out a hearty cackle. “You love me, Kim Jongdae. I got you laid, helped you forget about your ex and you’re looking much, much more alive! You know, beneath all those wrinkles and eyebags.”

“I feel like I should thank you but my mother would be very disappointed in me if I did,” Jongdae deadpans. “And I am so fucking late for Junmyeon’s rotation, so I’m pinning this all on you.”

Rolling his eyes, Baekhyun clicks his tongue and starts making for the door. “Okay, sure, because telling Junmyeon that I’ve been a very, very bad boy will make my life a hundred times worse –“

“Fucking hell, you make me sick -”

“- but you know what you should actually do?” Baekhyun looks over his shoulder one last time to throw his best friend a wicked grin. “Brush your teeth so you stop smelling like you’ve rinsed your mouth with my week-old socks. You’ll cause patients to die looking and smelling like that.”

Jongdae gapes as Baekhyun struts out of the locker room, hips swaying to rub his seven-in-the-morning good mood in his face. It then transforms into a scowl when he realises he’s still holding Baekhyun’s toothbrush.



Junmyeon will kill him for being late, but the problem here is that Baekhyun is right. He does smell like week-old socks.

Truthfully, Jongdae has no recollection of what happened last night except for two things: he made out with a really hot guy and possibly had sex with the said really hot guy. Yixing was already gone when Jongdae awoke stark naked in a stranger’s bathtub in a stranger’s house and with no dignity left.

It had been a good party, on one hand; drinks and hot guy all inclusive, so Jongdae had something to be positive about. But the whole running to work and consequently being late thing, leading to the unruly fate that is Kim Junmyeon’s wrath? Not so much on the positive side.

Nah, Jongdae is just kidding. The wrath of Kim Junmyeon? What is that, is it edible? Truthfully it was just something Jongdae spent his free time going around telling the fresh new interns, that Junmyeon was this scary bull with horns, just so they would stop screwing up. Frankly, the best way to describe Junmyeon would be to think of him as crème brule. He’s been fired up and set to harden by all the surgical gods above (aka Almighty Chief Changmin, the other residents, and the medical board) but he’s as soft and whipped as eggs once you crack through all the burnt sugar.

Jongdae only knows this because he and Junmyeon go way back – to the Stone Age, in fact. He had met Junmyeon in his first year of med school, when Junmyeon was a visiting intern back then giving advice to the medical hopefuls in Jongdae’s class. He frequently returned from time to time and was also the supervising figure when Jongdae did his clinical rounds in his second year of med school, so they had time to get to know each other. Jongdae, much to his dismay, also spent all that time third-wheeling in what he all along predicted to be the most disgusting relationship ever because Baekhyun was a PDA terrorist and Junmyeon responded to everything a little too eagerly (and to this day, nothing has changed).

“If you think being a surgical intern is a joke, you should’ve quit a year ago.”

Junmyeon barely loses his stoic face when he confronts Jongdae. It makes the latter feel proud of him; Junmyeon is so good at playing the boss. “I am very disappointed in you, Jongdae. You’re one of my best interns and I can’t have you slipping up like this.”

It is truly a shame that Jongdae is Junmyeon’s friend more than a colleague at a time like this. He’s able to fight the extremely strong urge to roll his eyes, but the snark is building up too fast inside and he simply can’t handle it. He can never remain professional under Junmyeon’s glare for a long time, a blessing and a curse. “High and mighty my ass, you nerd! Baekhyun would kill you if he finds out you keep favourites,” he scoffs. “I am so telling him.”

“I am high and mighty! To you, anyway. Supposedly.” Junmyeon sighs in exasperation, throwing his arms up in defeat. “Can’t you give me this just this one time? You’re so insufferable, Jongdae.”

“No can do, Boss Kim! You’re stuck with me until the day I surpass you and only then will you be able to escape me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Junmyeon shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath in. Jongdae inwardly grins; the other man has probably had enough of him, that’s how he knows he’s doing his job as a friend right.

“Look, stop messing around just for one day and get your act together,” Junmyeon tells him once he’s calmed down. “We have a doctor joining us for the neuro lectures coming up but he’ll be staying with us to work on the hippocampectomy later this week. Dr. Zhang is one of the most talented surgeons out there and he’s flown in all the way from China, can you believe it?”

Jongdae is about to open his mouth to say something but Junmyeon cuts him off. “I’m setting you up as his tiny intern! You’ll get to shadow a professional and hopefully it’ll help you in choosing your specialty.”

Jongdae grimaces. “You’re making me play babysitter.”

A new grin makes its way onto Junmyeon’s terribly handsome face. Inside the confines of his usual black Vans, Jongdae’s toes curl. “Look at you getting something right today! Aren’t you a smart little surgeon?”

Retching, Jongdae curses Junmyeon and walks away. His ego is being attacked and that, good heavens, is something he cannot deal with.



True or false: Jongdae has no other friends outside of Seoul National University Hospital. The answer? The truest of true.

When you spend most of your (life) time working in medicine, you’re bound to abnormal work hours and days and a quiet social life.
Jongdae knows almost everyone in his workplace and is friendly with everyone for the sake of his sanity. He’s very serious and focused when it comes to his internship and all, but give the guy a break and let him gossip his life away when he’s not donning a sterilised facemask and a cap.

On his breaks, he’ll either be in the cafeteria munching on upsettingly healthy salads with Baekhyun and Chanyeol (the wannabe paediatrics doctor) while discussing video games and Junmyeon, hanging out in the radiology rooms with Hyoyeon and her baby intern Jongin (who is also Junmyeon’s cousin) or exploring the depths of the ER under the watchful owl eyes of Kyungsoo, the Ultimate Head Nurse.

Today, he ventures down into the ER with the intention of filling Kyungsoo in with his eventful Friday night encounter. However, the head nurse is busy trying to keep the chaotic outpatient clinic steady so he’s stuck with nurse Lu Han and his relentless pining for one of the gynaecologist doctors upstairs.

“So I heard that Minseok is gay but I still have to hold some kind of doubt over him because I don’t want to make assumptions and possibly the wrong move…“

Jongdae stops listening to Lu Han just for a few moments to debate over telling the man the truth. Minseok is gay and even more incredibly gay for Lu Han. He’d told Jongdae himself when he made a trip to the ward to assist a patient and that had been quite a while ago. Honestly, Jongdae likes seeing Lu Han sweat and suffer over Minseok because he gets a kick out of proving that couples, official or potential, who share the same work environment or similar are the sappiest and the most lovesick at times.

He’s heard Lu Han rattle on about Minseok for too long, so maybe he could spare him a little. Minseok isn’t any better but Jongdae tries not to visit him often because Upstairs Boss Yunho frightens him sometimes.

“Actually, Minseok isn’t into women. It’s both surprising and unsurpring, considering he works with keeping vaginas healthy and boobs, er, happy but –“

The gasp that comes out of Lu Han’s mouth is incredulous. “Spare me, Jongdae! You’re just saying that to mock me.”

“This is slightly tragic,” Jongdae mutters to himself.

Well, at least he tried.

Jongdae sighs, turns away from Lu Han and his quiet mumbling of Minseok’s juicy arms into the clipboard in his hand and wonders if Kyungsoo would like a friendly visit, despite his heavy workload.

He doesn’t get to put his thought into action though because one of the nurses, Zitao with the kick-ass earrings and ability to attractively model the ugliest nurse’s uniform, dashes over to him.

“Junmyeon hyung told me to cut your break short and tell you to get your ‘skinny surgeon ass’ upstairs,” says Zitao, complete with air quotes.

“I am absolutely appalled at Junmyeon’s choice of words.” Jongdae shakes his head mournfully. “But it kinda suits you. Alright, did he say what the deal is?”

Zitao shrugs and shortly glances over at Lu Han, still hunched over his clipboard and probably carving caricature of Minseok into the wood. Zitao looks pretty disgusted and it reminds him of himself during Baekhyun and Junmyeon’s pining phase.

“Something about the new surgeon waiting for his chaperone. He’s apparently doing something important in one of the surgery rooms so hyung said you have to scrub in and see him for yourself,” Zitao tells him, all the while watching Lu Han with worried eyes. “Hey, is he alright?”

Jongdae absently shakes his head and straightens up. He figures he should go see this swanky new doctor for himself, just to check out his babysitee so Lu Han and the Hopeless Case of Minseok will have to wait once again.

“Just make sure he doesn’t write his poems over prescriptions because Kyungsoo will kill him.”

Zitao throws him a confused look and more questioning glances at Lu Han, but Jongdae is already walking away.



By the time Jongdae scrubs in, the surgery (a standard craniotomy, Jongdae discovers) is halfway finished. He spots Junmyeon overlooking the whole thing from the viewing balcony as soon as he walks in, the resident watching the surgeon work on the patient with twinkling eyes. Jongdae rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the operating table.

“Hey, doc,” he says casually.

Being friendly and borderline unprofessional is one of Jongdae’s self-proclaimed greatest attributes; it makes him come across as sociable and fun. Almighty Chief Changmin had hated it when Jongdae assisted him in surgery for the first time, stating the reason to be that the intern was far too familiar and unprofessional with him – but then Jongdae had gotten the opportunity to show just how good he was and blew him away when he pulled a surgical rescue the second time he was placed under Almighty Chief Changmin’s mentoring programme. Jongdae likes to think of himself as a genius.

Dr. Zhang, who Jongdae finally recalls to be a figure mentioned in one of his and Junmyeon’s useless confrontations, hardly even looks up from where his hands are fiddling with the surgical scalpel and merely nods his head in acknowledgement of Jongdae’s presence.

Shuffling from one foot to another, Jongdae tries hard not to feel awkward. “Um, I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know that I’ll be your…little tour guide while you’re here.” He promptly looks up at Junmyeon, teeth clenched behind his face mask. “Because, you know, things like this can’t wait until after brain surgery.” Junmyeon pokes his tongue out at him and makes a face. Jongdae is absolutely amazed by the elder.

“It’s quite alright,” Dr. Zhang replies smoothly. His voice is slightly muffled beneath his own mask and the plastic barrier of his cap, the one he wears ready to drill Burr Holes, but it sounds rough and a little wheezed to Jongdae. “No need to introduce yourself,” he continues, and doesn’t say anything further.

Jongdae weakly laughs and watches Dr. Zhang’s hands move in a practiced flourish as he startsc calmly working a clamp over the patient’s head. His movements are quick and fluid, and there is something about them that makes the skin on Jongdae’s stomach burn.

“My name is Kim Jongdae,” he tells him.

For a moment, Dr. Zhang’s hands go steady, sterile gloves going still in the air, and he lifts his head up to look at Jongdae through hooded eyes and safety glasses. His eyes start to curl as if he were smiling, cheeks probably curving behind his mask, and Jongdae can’t help but find his eye smile endearing.

“Hey, Jongdae,” Dr. Zhang drawls with his lazy grin. An eerie breath crawls up Jongdae’s spine, sends the hair on the back of his neck standing and his stomach churning, and the way the vowels fall out of his mouth is suddenly all too familiar. “I’m Yixing.”
Jongdae’s mouth drops and Dr. Zhang – Zhang Yixing, Yixing the guy from the night before, the guy Jongdae had made out with, the guy who left him naked in a stranger’s bathtub, Yixing – turns his attention back to the patient.

“Holy motherfu –“

Jongdae wants to flip the operating table in outrage but that would probably get him fired, suspended, banished from the land, erased from existence and reprimanded by his mother, so he doesn’t. He tries to keep calm and carry on with cursing Kim Junmyeon in his head, now adding Zhang Yixing to the list.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking but-” Jongdae fleetingly glares at the other man. Yixing, fucking Dr. Zhang, doesn’t even look up when he nonchalantly asks, “is that a hickey on your neck?”

Well, shit.

+++

Yixing should be terrible, but he isn’t. Jongdae hates him for it.

He mentions nothing of their night together, leaving Jongdae to wonder if it even happened at all. It could’ve been a dream, he muses one day. That dimple? Made of the stardust you find in dreams.

And so over the course of three days days, two eight-hour surgeries and one terribly boring conference, Jongdae learns four things about Dr. Zhang.

1. “Please don’t call me Dr. Zhang, That’s my father. Okay, no, not really, my dad works with the government and I just wanted to use that cliché. My name is Yixing for a reason, and you’re my buddy now, so I will call you Jongdae and you will call me Yixing! Great, got it? Good.”
2. He has the ability to sweep the collectively white Adidas-footed feet of the entire ER floor just by walking in to use the elevators. But he likes Lu Han and Zitao the best because they all converse in Mandarin and it reminds Yixing of home. Don’t even get Jongdae started on Yifan when they spend office breaks together – board games and go fish? Professional, Jongdae will snort, completely and utterly professional.
3. He tugs on the end of Jongdae’s scrubs whenever he wants to get his attention, and it should really, really annoy him, but Jongdae has (hatefully) come to terms with himself that he likes it.
4. Okay, no, he’s really professional, completely and utterly professional, when the gloves come on and the funny little surgeon’s hat is tied around his head. Unlike the first time Jongdae saw him in the surgery room, the two surgeries they work on together let more room for observation and, simply, Yixing is intelligent, calm and hopeful. It is different for it is unexpected, but Jongdae quite likes Yixing when he isn’t bothering him like a puppy dog.

Jongdae decides that he likes Dr. Zhang but he isn’t quite sure what to think or feel about Yixing. It’s unknown territory; he wants to be Yixing’s friend, but his time at the hospital is limited, and he also wants to carry on and assist him like a right-hand man, but again time is limited, and he really wants to know more about his strange sides and his background out of sheer curiosity, but time is still ticking.

So he asks Yixing out for lunch. Or as out as he can be during work hours, which usually meant the cafeteria and the picnic table outside that he and his gang of friends usually have lunch at.

Jongdae buys a chicken salad, and Yixing gets a ham salad sandwich and a plate of cheese fries. He eyes the fries, then Yixing, and then the fries again. “Why’d you buy the fries?”

Yixing shrugs and takes a bite out of his sandwich. “For us to share, silly,” he replies through a mouthful of food.

Jongdae scrunches up his nose. “Finish chewing first, doctor. And really, you share fries?”

“Is that so weird?” Yixing legitimately sounds so confused that the sudden need to coo at him and tickle his sides pricks Jongdae’s skin. He doesn’t, though, purely because treating your colleague like he’s a baby probably isn’t the greatest of all work ethic.

He thinks of Lu Han, who claims that he’ll only ever share food with Minseok, because food is precious; of Junmyeon, who labels his containers with his name in permanent marker before storing them in the staff fridge; of Baekhyun, who quickly stuffs his mouth with his plate every time they go out, simply because he doesn’t want Jongdae to steal any of it. The saying of a dog being a man’s best friend must be a lie, he thinks, because food seems to be instead.

“It’s not weird, but you didn’t ask and you just bought it for us to share,” he says, thoughtfully. He still hasn’t tucked into his salad yet, which he figures he should do soon. But Yixing and his plate of fries to share has stirred up the hidden deep-thinker in Jongdae.
Yixing looks baffled. He stops chewing and swallows his mouthful before asking, “Did you not want any? Because if I’m capable of eating six plates of crap in one sitting, all by myself –“

“No,” Jongdae hastily cuts in with a laugh. “No, I was just pondering over a few things. My friend says that food is precious, which is why he keeps it to himself.” But then again, Lu Han is selfish and he just wants Minseok, so maybe it’s not smart to trust him on that.

“Jongdae,” Yixing slowly utters. “It’s just fries. Just a plate of fries and nothing more. I bought them in case you wanted to eat more than that bowl of grass. And also because I like cheese fries and sharing my favorite things. Take some if you want, just don’t go all Ghandi on the fries.”

Jongdae quirks a smile, staring at the plate with a lightness in his chest. He thinks of all the people in his life who asked before they assumed, out of uncertainty and also kindness. He thinks of how it would feel if Baekhyun were to come up to him, knowing about his undying love for the strawberry and lime jelly cups they serve in the cafeteria, and ask if he wanted one before they pay.

And here is Yixing, buying a plate of cheese fries because he thought it would be nice to share, for Jongdae to have more than what indeed looked like a bowl of grass, and he didn’t know that yes, Jongdae really does want more than just a bowl of grass. He wanted to share his favorite food with Jongdae, and that, the inner emotional mom in him feeling for him, makes him proud.

“Just a plate of cheese fries,” Yixing repeats with a smile. “Perfectly delicious and shareable!”

Damn it, he’s right.

“You made me unleash my inner Ghandi over cheese fries,” Jongdae mutters under his breath. “Fuck you, Yixing.”

Yixing winks at him in return, and a spark in Jongdae’s stomach begins to burn.

Before they leave to continue their day, Jongdae with his shift and Yixing with a mini mentoring session downstairs, Yixing tells him, “Hey, let's have lunch tomorrow,” and Jongdae finds himself agreeing.

+++

Lunch tomorrow doesn’t actually happen until next week, once the storms of a highway collision and a gymnastics competition disaster blows over and the skies clear up, and it isn’t even lunch. It’s an afterthought of lunch, and Jongdae isn’t even hungry.

Yixing buys a tray of cheese fries, a bowl of grass, and three plates of different kinds of cake for the both of them. They hide away on the rooftop with the sunset, telling stories of childhoods and random encounters. Yixing offers Jongdae one of their cakes on his fork, and Jongdae allows himself to be fed. Yixing scowls in distaste when Jongdae tucks into his grass, and Jongdae throws the remains of it at the former when he’s done with it. Yixing stacks their plates and cutlery on the tray, and Jongdae moves towards the setting sun.

“When I was a child, I used to think that the sun followed me everywhere I went, so I chased it all the time.” Yixing is standing behind him, that’s why his voice sound so close. Jongdae’s ears twitch to hear more of him, but he reminds himself to stay calm, even when Yixing steps closer to admire the scenery before the both of them.

“Me too,” Jongdae comments. “Then my mother would tell me off for looking at the sun all the time, claiming I’d go blind.”

“Same with mine.” Yixing smiles. Jongdae tries to look away before it starts to draw him in, but it’s too late and it does. “The sun feels different here, somehow.”

He looks so peaceful. But then again, Jongdae has learnt that Yixing always looks peaceful. He looks more at peace with the orange and yellow hues of the sun painting his face in contentment. He’s so far from home, and it’s something he wears on his face bravely.

“I think it’s great that you travel around, given your job and all,” Jongdae says. “Your mind is constantly in a dozen different places at the same time, and your body is in one. It must be tiring, but you still do it.”

Yixing nods thoughtfully. His eyes, Jongdae realises, are like his smile – far away from the rooftop, from the sunset, probably back at home. He can only wonder what it is that is pulling him away from the present.

“I wanted to travel when I was young, then I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted both, so I compromised and tried for both,” is Yixing’s answer. “I’m the only one who can make my dreams come true.”

Jongdae swallows. He tries not to think of his past, of school and textbook scriptures bleeding into him past four in the morning, of his empty apartment and the jumble of clothes in the wash that still need tending to, of everything else but Yixing and the sun. If he focuses all on Yixing and his words, he’ll feel better.

“Hey, Yixing?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask…?” Jongdae hesitates, his words caught in his throat. If he says anything on his mind, he’ll feel as if he’s intruding on someone’s personal space. If he doesn’t say anything, he’ll feel as if he’s betraying the virtue of his curiosity.

“Anything,” Yixing tells him, sensing his pause. “Go ahead.”

Before he starts to second guess himself, Jongdae asks, “Do you miss it?”

Yixing’s answer is instant: “Yes. But I’m also trying to find another home, to live another one of my dreams.”

Jongdae takes his answer and turns it over in his fingers. It feels like a puzzle, holding more meaning than what it offers. Yixing is like that, he thinks. Complicated one second, and then not so much the next.

“Sometimes, I don’t even know where home is.” Jongdae’s words are a whisper, hoping to be carried away with the sunset. His parents, his job, his friends, his hometown, his country – shelters for his heart, but not entirely a root for him to call his own. It’s the weight of the world he lives in on his shoulders – wanting to be a better surgeon, wanting to reach the top. The only home he’s known so far is the light at the end of the tunnel – success, and where it’ll take him.

“Jongdae,” Yixing softly calls out. His hand finds Jongdae’s easily, and the latter gives in just as well.

“Yixing,” he exhales, but he doesn’t intend on saying anything more. The name tastes familiar and strange.

Yixing is smiling at him, even if he’s not looking back. “You’ll know it when you feel it. Home is where the heart is, Jongdae.”

The sun is beautiful in its final stages of goodbye, and the day is beginning to end too quickly. But this, the feeling of being on this rooftop with Yixing and the sky, will come again. It isn’t the end.

+++

On a slow day, the rain outside manages to lull the energy out of Jongdae’s bones. He’s tired, snappy, and a wreckage of built-up stress and fading sarcasm. It’s a bad day, he knows it. He feels it, too.

He doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, he doesn’t go looking for Baekhyun or Kyungsoo or Lu Han, he doesn’t smile because his heart isn’t in it. What he does, however, is sneak into an empty patient room, locks the door, curls up underneath the sheets, and closes his eyes. He lets time past, because he can. No one needs him right now, no one is looking for him – not even work.

He sleeps soundly. Knocks on the door are what wakes him up.

Faintly, like a sliding breeze in the midst of spring, Yixing’s voice: “Jongdae?”

Jongdae breathes in, eyes still closed, the sound of Yixing seeping into his ears, his lungs. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to open the door. He doesn’t want to look at Yixing’s face to see the worried lines or the etched dimple or the burning intensity of determination in his eyes. He really doesn’t –

But he does, he opens the door, he lets Yixing in, he goes back to the bed, he mutters lock it, and Yixing does.

“I was walking around earlier and I saw you come in here,” Yixing says, perching on the end of the bed. “You didn’t come out for hours.”

“I was asleep,” Jongdae softly replies.

“I know, so I didn’t bother you,” the other says. Jongdae looks up from where his head is ducked into his chin. Yixing is smiling, and it’s contagious. “But now, I’m here to bother you.”

Jongdae pretends to sigh in exasperation. “I feel as if I should tell you to go away. The side of me revelling in angst is telling me to do so, but I guess the nice guy in me is keeping him in place.”

Yixing’s smile widens into a grin. He stands up to move beside Jongdae on the bed. “Perfect. Move over and let me in, loser.”
Jongdae does. He shuffles over to one side of the tiny bed, makes space for Yixing, and the latter stretches himself out on it, curling onto his side to face Jongdae. The air feels static; neither of them are burning, yet.

“Want to talk?” Yixing asks, voice casual.

Jongdae had thought he’d be more worried, with that crease in his brow and pity in his eyes. Baekhyun would’ve been just like that, wearing expectations and emotions on his face. Yixing isn’t wearing a mask. Jongdae thinks he prefers this – he really doesn’t want to talk about it.

He shakes his head, trying to smile. Yixing nods, shrugs his shoulders in place and announces, “Then we won’t talk. Or at least, you won’t talk, but I will. I’m going to tell you a story, Kim Jongdae.”

Laughing in an exhale, Jongdae flattens his hands under his head. Yixing’s eyes are solely on him, but Jongdae is insistent on looking at anything but him – so he focuses on the top buttons of Yixing’s blue button-up shirt, admiring the way it looks so clean cut on him. Just the shirt, he reminds himself, just the shirt.

Before Yixing continues, Jongdae pauses to ask, “Why aren’t you working?”

“I’m not bound to the hospital like you are, so my hours aren’t aligned to set schedules, remember? I’m not working as the doctor tourist right now, no, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jongdae just hums, taking the answer. Yixing is quiet for a few more moments before he continues, “So about that story.”

Briefly, Jongdae allows himself to meet Yixing’s eyes to greet them with a smile in his own. “I’m listening,” he replies.

Yixing takes a deep breath. He’s still smiling. “Before I decided to become a doctor, I had this dream of becoming a musician. I taught myself to play the piano with my neighbour’s piano every night when I was six, and felt like a master at it when I played in my first recital at twelve.”

Jongdae raises a brow. “You were only six?”

Yixing nods. “I had a lot of free time on my hands back then outside of school, and my mother wanted me to be productive. I didn’t have many friends, either. So I stayed in my neighbourhood for most of my childhood.” A flash of nostalgia surfaces onto Yixing’s face. He looks peaceful in the way he did when they were on the rooftop a week ago – serene, thoughtful He must be thinking of home. “It took me so long to put my self-teachings to use because my father wanted me to do something a little less artsy and more world-changing.”

Jongdae thinks of his parents, of his father supporting him in his one-way track mind to become a doctor, a surgeon, a lifesaver. Of his mother sending him messages to energise him every day, telling him to work hard and come home soon, son! and how he can’t imagine any of them disapproving of his choice, despite knowing how suffocating it is.

“I was six and he wanted me to think about changing the world. Can you believe it?” Jongdae really can’t. “I guess I did play a part in changing the world, like he wanted. Any job you can get can change the world, not just one in medicine or in business and such. it did feel an awful lot like they wanted me to change the world because they’re a part of it and they wanted a special son to change their world.”

“You are enough,” Jongdae cuts in to tell him. Yixing simply smiles at him, reaching up for a second to stroke Jongdae’s cheek. The latter doesn’t flinch or move away and he finds that he doesn’t want to. Then the hand falls, and the smile Yixing wears best returns.

“The whole point of this was to tell you about my music,” he snorts. “Forget about my parents and me, that’s already gone and past.” Jongdae thinks he’ll have a hard time forgetting, but if Yixing wants him to then he figures he’ll try his best to do so.

He continues, “I knew how to play the piano and create music, all by the age of thirteen. But I couldn’t read music that wasn’t mine, though that didn’t really matter to me. I played the guitar, too, and even played in a band in high school before dropping it all to study medicine. I don’t regret that, though – I like what I do and I can still do the others as hobbies in my free time.”

Jongdae lets out a slightly bitter laugh, thinking about sleepless nights and the permanent dark circles beneath his eyes. “We’re doctors, Yixing, free time is rare.”

“You most probably spend yours sleeping, so I get why you’d say that.” Yixing laughs, lifting the atmosphere again. Jongdae settles into the comfort of the moment, allowing himself this tiny little piece of peace.

“Why are you telling me this story?” he asks, curious.

Yixing struggles to think of an answer, his forehead creasing in deep thought. It starts to fade when he says, “I suppose I should make up some deep moral story about what I just told you, but I don’t lie. Truth is, I just wanted to give you a piece of me.”

His last words strike a chord in Jongdae; a piece of me. Yixing, in a patient’s bed with him, sharing more stories and offering another fragment of his heart to Jongdae as if it were a slice of cake. Jongdae isn’t sure how to take it, the only way being to sigh, close his eyes and, as discreetly as he tries to be, moves closer to Yixing’s body.

Yixing responds to him by confidently placing a hand on his waist, warming him in place. Jongdae’s eyes are closed but he can picture the other man smiling.

“I’ve forgotten what it was that frustrated me,” Jongdae admits. “Look what you’ve done to me.” He means it as a joke, but his heart shakes its head at him.

Yixing, for all his kind and worth, seems confused when he asks, “What have I done to you?”

Jongdae is already willing himself to sleep. He doesn’t know the answer. He doesn’t want to know the answer. His head is silent but his heart speaks. He snuggles into the space of Yixing’s neck, breathing him in. Yixing’s hand on his body feels so electric.

His bones are drained of energy, as if it were all used up to feel Yixing rather than to stay awake. Sleep takes him prisoner in no time, but his words are left behind.

“I’ve let you in,” is all he says.

+++

It becomes routine. Badly timed breaks on the rooftop, cheese fries and grass bowls, time spent in the company of each other in the hearth of the sun. Both sleepless and bad days in the empty patient room that they claim as theirs, all their free time not on their feet spent lying beside each other with only inches apart and hearts full to the brim with pieces ready to give and take.

Yixing makes him feel at ease more than anything. The stress of every day dissolves into nothing as soon as he’s around. Every surgery Jongdae is called into to monitor and operate is accompanied by an encouraging mentor, one who sends him secret smiles underneath his face masks.

It’s like the sunset on the rooftop for that very first time – peace with no war on his mind.

“I got you a granola bar and a smoothie. All good?” Yixing strides over to where Jongdae is leaning on the cafeteria doors. In his hands are his purchased items.

Jongdae flashes him a grin, taking them from him. “Maybe I’ll even let you share my smoothie as a reward for all your hard work, doctor.”

Yixing rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He opens the door for them both and together, they walk down the hospital hallways until they reach the lobby. “It’s raining,” he tells him.

Jongdae shrugs and sips his smoothie. “So walk me home and stay until it lets up.”

He’s grown to be more comfortable like this, more confident with his words, because Yixing doesn’t mind slip ups and awkward moments. Yixing barely even bats an eyelash at the offer, but Jongdae knows it’s the same for him.

“I guess I could…” the man mutters. “But we don’t even have an umbrella.”

Jongdae starts on his granola bar, giving Yixing his smoothie. He tries not to focus on how easily Yixing drinks from it, as if he isn’t thinking the same thing as Jongdae – an indirect kiss. Instead, he focuses on how stupid he is for watching too many dramas on TV, and for wanting to live every moment of his life like one.

“Then we won’t need to worry about carrying anything in our hands, then. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little rainfall?”

Yixing shakes his head, returning the smoothie. Jongdae hopes he isn’t being too obvious when his lips linger on the straw for a sip longer than usual. “Okay, fine. We’ll get soaked, Jongdae. My hair will get ruined. Your hair will get ruined.”

Faking a shocked gasp, Jongdae looks at him in mock outrage. “Truly tragic, my friend. Your hair will fall into the hands of ruin, but mine will rise from them and still remain awesome.”

Yixing elbows him, taking the now empty smoothie cup and empty granola bar wrapper from him when he’s done with it. “You’re awful,” he whispers before jogging to the bin with them.

Yixing is right about the rain: it ruins their hair and it is tragic. It soaks their scrubs and the jeans Jongdae wears as a layer underneath them, but neither of them care when Jongdae is splashing puddles at Yixing’s ankles with his feet on the streets, when Yixing is fighting the same battle by using his hands to scoop up water from all surfaces before throwing it at Jongdae. It doesn’t really matter, not when Yixing begins to sing in the rain and even serenading Jongdae on one knee at a street corner, not when Jongdae pushes him over and sends him flying into a puddle, not when Jongdae is cackling at him but offering a hand to help him up anyway when their hands stay clasped three streets and an alleyway later, not when their fingers find home in the spaces of each other’s, not when they’re on Jongdae’s doorstep with ragged breaths and matching grins and eyes that look at only each other.

“You’re going to get a cold,” Yixing tells him, his words lost in a shaky breath of laughter.

All Jongdae can do is grin at him and say, “We are going to get a cold,” because it isn’t fair that even though they are a part of one thing in the same moment, Yixing is thinking of him before himself.

He opens the door, letting Yixing in. He turns on the light, throws his keys on the kitchen counter-slash-dining table, and is met with a very wet Jongdae standing in his hallway.

He swallows. Yixing’s scrubs are matted dark with rain. His skin glistens with drops, his hair dripping into his eyes. He’s still smiling, a common feature that Jongdae has come to know and admire.

Yixing’s face, handsome as it is beyond his smile, is unreadable. “Jongdae.” His voice, too.

Jongdae purses his lips, forcing himself to look away from the sight. “I’ll go find us some dry clothes.”

He turns to walk towards his bedroom but is stopped by a thought. Clothes, like the ones I put in the wash last night and hung outside this morning to let them dry. The laundry, he curses himself for forgetting. They are standing outside his living room window, hung by pegs and pegs along a single wire, soaking yet again not in lavender scented soap but in torrential rain.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses, dashing past his single armchair and tiny coffee table, to the window where he peers outside with his face pinned against the pane. They’re still there, once dry but twice washed. Dismayed, he opens his window and climbs outside.

Yixing joins him in hurriedly unpegging each piece of clothing, so the rain drenches the both of them carelessly.

“Calvin Klein?” he asks. Jongdae holds his head out from where it’s buried in one of his hung sweaters to see one of his most delicate pairs of underwear in Yixing’s hands.

He blushes, unpegging his sweater while muttering, “I buy myself expensive undies once in a while as a treat.”

“Oh really? A treat for who – you or anyone who gets to unwrap you in them?” Yixing snickers.

If it were any other day, Jongdae thinks he would’ve come up with a witty, and slightly dirty, remark, but today – today feels different. Today feels like anticipation in the rain, longing in soaked scrubs, home in bought a cafeteria bought granola bar and smoothie. Today feels new yet familiar and ideal.

Today, Jongdae smiles to himself, feels like Yixing.

He remembers Yixing’s comment and blushes instead of replies. Seconds of silence later, Yixing and Jongdae are two pegged clothes away from the centre of the wire, and Jongdae’s stomach turns.

“My mom used to make me commute home every weekend in med school so she could do my laundry,” he says, voice feeling more distant from himself as he recalls the phone calls, the memories. “She didn’t want me to feel stressed about the cleaning up bit when I had so much on my plate already she said.”

“You are both lucky,” Yixing whispers. “I’m glad you took care of each other.”

Jongdae hears it, the longing in Yixing’s voice – it always comes back to home. He knows Yixing’s words aren’t meant to sound bitter or biting or misunderstanding because Yixing doesn’t look for pity or for ways to go home. He always looks for ways to go places, to find it for himself.

Jongdae pauses to smile at Yixing from where the man is stood parallel to him. The rain is pouring so heavily, but neither of the two seems to care at all. Yixing’s eyes are framed by wet lashes, making them look darker than usual.

“What’s the dream where you’re looking for home?” Jongdae asks him, thinking back to the first rooftop, their first sunset.

Yixing’s face is thoughtful. “I wanted to find something of my own and call it home. I wish to find something of my own to call home. Not what my parents gave me, or what they expect of me – but what I worked hard for. Something I know I deserve.”

Jongdae’s thoughts race with Yixing’s words in mind, with one in particular slowly travelling along the tracks. He smiles – it isn’t right yet. He decides to keep it to himself. One day, he thinks.

“Will you tell me when you find it?” Jongdae’s hope feeds into his words, with another hope wishing they’d reach Yixing.

Yixing replies in a heartbeat, and Jongdae’s own stutters in his chest. “You’ll be the first to know.” There’s silence before his next few words. Jongdae’s hands are still where they hold his clothes, slightly shaking from the cold of the rain.

There is hope, and then there is Yixing. “I haven’t been missing home in a while now.”

The way he locks their gazes sends Jongdae hurtling through a battlefield of emotions; joy, nausea, yearning, understanding, knowing. At once, he feels empty, as if there is something in him that is missing Yixing, even though he’s right in front of him, and he also feels whole, as if Yixing is filling him up with something they both can’t explain, and while it feels like too much it feels like it’s not enough.

So Jongdae crosses the short distance between them, braving his own heart and the rain, keeping his eyes on Yixing like he never wants to see anything else, ever. With Yixing’s raindrop crowned lashes, soft eyes, and the smile that never leaves him, Jongdae doesn’t want to tear his eyes away.

Their first kiss is a simple press of lips, dampened by the rain but electrified by the touch of skin. Yixing is taken by surprise but the smile against Jongdae’s lips say that he’s been waiting for this too, wanting it just as much, and that it’s okay, it’s alright. Jongdae’s hands are cupped around one dimpled cheek and the other. Yixing’s arms around tight around his waist, keeping him in place.

Their second kiss is more than the first. It is stumbling back inside through the window as one person with entwined hands, clothes outside abandoned and forgotten, the rain reduced to nothing as they return to the heat of floorboards and ceilings.

Their third is clumsy, falling backwards onto the couch with grins on their faces and work clothes sticking to the clingy fabric of the seats.

Their fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh are spent in breathless laughter as Yixing holds Jongdae in his arms, whispering embarrassing tales into his ear, and Jongdae burying his face into the crook of Yixing’s neck, placing kisses here and there along his neck, his collarbones, his skin.

Their eighth is stardust, constellations in Jongdae’s eyes when Yixing kisses both of his closed lids, one at a time, slowly, as if to preserve the feeling of the moment. They keep their clothes on but their chests are ripped wide open, displaying their hearts in their glass cases for each other to see.

Seconds pass into minutes into hours into the sun setting into nightfall, and Yixing stays the night.

“Look what you’ve done to me.” Yixing laughs, breathless like it was a few hours ago.

Jongdae looks up from where his head is nested on the other’s shoulder. “What have I done now?”

The echo of his own words spoken from Yixing’s lips bring a smile to his face. This is it for the both of them – they’ve let each other in, they’ve let each other become more.

Yixing kisses the tip of his nose, pausing for a moment to consider, then kisses his forehead, his chin, his cheeks. Jongdae squirms under the searing touch of his lips, but he loves it.

His lips move towards his ear, his arm tightens around his waist. “I’m going to let you ruin me.”

Jongdae thinks Yixing is wrong. How is it possible to ruin the one person who is already ruining you?

+++

It becomes part of the routine. In the space of two weeks and endless requests from Yixing applying to extend his stay by more and more days, rooftops and empty patient rooms and nights at Jongdae’s place turn into something more.

It tries to become something more, too, in the workplace. Until Lu Han disrupts that thought and Jongdae forgets all about him and Yixing to focus on his friend.

“Minseok asked me out!” The nurse exclaims. Kyungsoo passes by with a clipboard in hand and a stony look on his face. Jongdae wonders who forgot to slip the sugar into the man’s coffee this morning.

Jongdae’s face lights up in an instant, ecstatic for his friend. “He finally grew some balls! Hell yeah, my little gynaecologist is a man now.”

And Lu Han’s jaw drops like a mighty weight on Jongdae’s toes. “What do you mean he grew some balls? Are you implying that Minseok has none? Are you trying to insult the wonder that is Kim Minseok?”

Kyungsoo passes by again, a clipboard no longer in hand but the hand on his forehead trying to iron out the worried crease. Before he leaves them (again) he comments, “I want to fucking fire you, but I can’t.”

Lu Han ignores him, instead turning to Jongdae with hands on his hips expectantly. “Well?”

Yikes. Jongdae almost feels sorry for Minseok. “I meant nothing by it, hyung! Except that I already knew he hadorhasacrushonyouandijustdidnttellyouabout it.”

As soon as the word(s) leave his mouth, Jongdae makes his escape, desperately wanting to avoid the nurse’s wrath. But Lu Han catches up to him in no time, yanking him backwards by the hem of his scrubs.

“What the fuck, Jongdae?” He seethes, teeth clenched. His eyes look murderous. Jongdae wonders if that is the look of someone in love, but that quickly fades into thoughts of Yixing. He shakes his head free from all of it, looking at Lu Han with his winning smile.

“I have to go right now,” he says before jumping out of Lu Han’s claws and running out of the ER. He bumps into Jongin on the way, and Jongdae realises there’s another body hiding behind the intern’s when he stops in his escape.

“Hey, Jongin,” he greets. “Who’s that?”

Jongin smiles good-naturedly, pulling the body out from behind him and into view. “This is Sehun! He’s a friend of mine who interns at another hospital but he wanted to spend some time here for new experience. Sehun, this is Dr. Kim. Jongdae hyung is a friend of mine.

Ah, yes. Jongdae sees it: he looks a lot like Jongin. The same youthful look in his eyes, the one that Jongdae swears will get extinguished once he’s finished his first year, the raggedly handsome mess of hair, and the height of a new generation young adult that Jongdae is jealous of.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” Sehun greets stiffly.

Jongdae snickers under his breath, nodding at him and then winking at Jongin. “He’s a little stiff, so I think you should introduce him to Junmyeon hyung or something. Or try Yifan hyung. Or Baekhyun, but that wouldn’t be a great idea.” As faithful as Baekhyun is to Junmyeon, Baekhyun appreciates a fresh new attractive face from afar once in a while. With Jongin being Junmyeon’s cousin and Sehun being Jongin’s friend, Jongdae thinks it wouldn’t end happily at all if Baekhyun were to get his hands on fresh fish.

“Actually, Baekhyun hyung is looking for you.” Jongin smiles kindly at him. “They have him down in triage for the day because he isn’t scheduled for anything else.”

Jongdae nods, tells Sehun and Jongin to find him if they ever needs help, and waves goodbye to the both of them before heading his way downstairs.

Yixing is at a conference, withering away with boring brown walls and a state of the art podium. It’s one of his conditions as part of his agreement to stay for a while longer, and while this is necessary, Jongdae can’t help but ache from missing him.

But he’s optimistic – he’ll see him later. They’ll see each other soon, have lunch, work on a case, retreat to their special place, work again, and all before calling it a day.

Baekhyun is waiting for him in one of the triage rooms, tending to a patient’s sutures.

“I literally have not seen you in a week and you don’t even bring me a chocolate chip muffin to make up for it when you do!” Baekhyun all but yells at him. He doesn’t look mad, or upset, but he doesn’t look happy – he looks tense, more than anything.

Jongdae sheepishly walks in, pulling the armchair from the corner of the room closer so he can sit by his best friend. “A…lot happened, Baek. We were both busy.”

Baekhyun scoffs, “A lot meaning Zhang Yixing?”

Jongdae’s jaw clenches, releases, clenches again. “No,” he says, even though it’s a lie. A small lie, but one to feel immensely guilty about. Why? Baekhyun is his best friend – so why?

“Jongdae, I know my best friend and the look in his eyes when he eats his favorite meal, even when I think it tastes like shit,” Baekhyun deadpans. “I know what you look like when you see something you feel neutral about and what you look like when you see something you feel a little more than anything about. Zhang Yixing, in this case? Off the charts. Through the roof. No longer on the scale.”

“What are you talking about?” Jongdae asks incredulously. He thinks back to Yixing, if he’s ever been so obvious with Yixing – all they time they spent in the hospital together (outside their little excursions) had been due to Yixing mentoring him and Jongdae taking him around whenever needed. He racks his brain for anything that would’ve given off warning lights and red signals to anyone else – but nothing.

Baekhyun looks more hurt than he does angry, although his voice betrays him. “I’m talking about you being in your own little world so much that you forgot to tell me about Yixing.”

“Is that what it is?” Jongdae’s voice sounds as hollow as he feels. “Because I didn’t tell you that I was assigned to Dr. Zhang? I’m pretty sure it was a known fact that Junmyeon put me on his case –“

“No, Jongdae,” Baekhyun interrupts. “That’s not what it is. Everyone knows the way you’re assigned to him, including me. But I’m the only one who sees beyond that – I know you. This is about you liking Yixing and its implications.”

Jongdae laughs with scorn as he says, “What implications? Is that what having feelings is called nowadays?”

Shaking his head, a stern line on his face for lips, Baekhyun sighs. “Do you forget why Yixing is here?”

“To study in a different hospital for a while,” Jongdae replies. For a while sits on his tongue bitterly.

“Yes, exactly. A while. Meaning he’s not going to stay.” Baekhyun is telling him what he already knows but in a way that pains him more than self-reminders. Their building anger is unreasonable; Baekhyun is being his petty self, just like Jongdae is being his petty self.

“So what?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to come out weak, but it does. The look on his best friend’s face tells him he knows the same.

“Jongdae, I can see how much you’ve given away to a person who’ll leave soon, and it’s too much. Do you ever think about how much you’ll have left when he’s gone?”

All the time. Yixing will leave with the pieces of Jongdae that he’s given up, but he won’t be leaving him empty – he’s given himself too, and that’s what Jongdae is meant to replace his emptiness with. Give and take, like sunsets and apartment windows.

“I’m not stupid,” Baekhyun mutters. “I may be known for a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. I can see you getting hurt and I know I won’t like it. I don’t like it already.”

“He was meant to leave a week ago,” Jongdae tells his friend. “But he asked to stay longer. For me, for himself.”

Baekhyun is shaking his head again, something Jongdae feels is more disapproval than disappointment. “How long will he keep doing that? He’s important in other places, not just here – do you think he’ll keep postponing his leave when he’s probably destined for the greatest? For you?”

“This isn’t my fault,” Jongdae hisses. “I like him and he likes me, and I will as long as he stays and even when he leaves –“
Baekhyun, relentlessly, groans. Agonised, just like the way Jongdae feels right now. “And when he leaves, then what? You didn’t like Jonghyun like this, so it was okay. But when Yixing leaves, will you be okay?”

Jongdae knows he won’t be. Yixing is different. Yixing is…Yixing. There is no other, and he doesn’t want to know any other.

“Yes,” he lies.

“Of course,” Baekhyun replies bitterly. He can see right through him. “You’ll see what I’m talking about later. Watch your heart, Kim Jongdae, I will be here to piece you back together when he’s gone, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Don’t cry when he does.”

Jongdae feels like crying right now, out of frustration and the need to be angry in ways other than lashing out at his best friend. Baekhyun means well – that much he knows. Baekhyun is his soulmate in ways Yixing can never be. It hurts now because Baekhyun is reminding him of the inevitable, a warning of the heartbreak from his best friend, is what he tells himself.

Baekhyun finishes up his patient’s sutures while Jongdae sits in silence trying to calm himself. He refuses to think of Yixing. He thinks of Baekhyun and him back in med school, instead. Inseparable peas in a pod, troublemakers, one half and another of a whole.

He offers to sterilise the closed wound for him. Baekhyun lets him. This is their peace; the end of a strange war.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Baekhyun whispers, eyes gleaming with tears they both share in their hearts.

“I know.” Jongdae casts his eyes down on the patient, suddenly feeling shamed for being angry at his friend.

“I pretend it’s me and Junmyeon in your situation, and how much it’d hurt, and how much I can’t live without him.” Even more shame comes to him when he recalls Sehun, and what he thought about Baekhyun at the time. “Even if it’s not the same, I wouldn’t wish that kind of hurt on anybody. Love will ruin you.”

Yixing’s words come to him in an instant. I’m going to let you ruin me. He swallows, trying hard not to say it out loud. He says, “This isn’t love,” and he hates how wrong it feels coming from him.

Baekhyun tilts his chin up with a finger. His smile is so sad, desperate. It’s desperation for his friend to see. “Isn’t it Yixing?”

Jongdae closes his eyes. Yes, it could be love, it is Yixing, it could be something one day, it’s already more. “I love you, Baek,” he says instead.

Byun Baekhyun smiles at him. In return, Kim Jongdae leaves behind Yixing for a moment to grin at his best friend.

The I know goes by unspoken, as does the me too. They return to the patient, complete him, and walk out of the room arm in arm.

Baekhyun tells him, “Let’s grab a coffee,” and Jongdae laughs and agrees and says, “That’s exactly what I need.”

+++

A day later, Jongdae wakes up in the middle of the night to a sleeping Yixing and an ache in his chest. He wraps an arm around him, buries his face into his back, and silently begs for him to stay.

The next, Yixing brings him coffee before Jongdae yawns his way into a surgery. He goes to lunch with Baekhyun and the nurses while Yixing meets with Junmyeon.

After the next, Jongdae sleeps in their empty patient room with the door locked and the bed all to himself.

When he wakes, there is a note slipped under the door. It’s raining, it reads. He has no idea why Yixing would write that, but he thinks of that one rainy day and realises that’s why. What it means, he has no idea. In his head, he pictures himself writing, it reminds me of you, on the back of the note before slipping it in Yixing’s temporary locker. And as soon as he thinks temporary, it fades.

One day in the many they spend together apart, in locked rooms, in silent surgeries, Yixing asks him what and why, and Jongdae tells him, “I’m just tired,” because he’s tired of thinking of the end, and even if he doesn’t want to, it consumes him anyway.

Then they meet on the rooftop once and Jongdae tells him everything, every doubt, every hope, every little thing in hope that Yixing will understand, and the latter does.

“I had no idea how much I changed until you,” Jongdae tells him. “I don’t feel like myself anymore. I feel…different.”

“I feel that way, too, Jongdae.” Yixing clasps their hands together. There is no sun to set today, but Jongdae imagines one in his head. “I feel less like myself and a little more like you.”

“I don’t know, Yixing.”

“I do,” he squeezes reassurance into their skin. “I gave you a part of me, so you become a little like that part, and in return the same for me. Complete, somehow.”

You make me complete. “Your time is running out.”

“That’s not today.”

“But it will be soon, won’t it?” Jongdae can’t bring himself to look into the other’s eyes. What will he see if he does? Will he see what he feels, will he see his own reflection in them and recognise who it is?

“Yes,” Yixing admits. “But, Jongdae, I admire you beyond love. You and your work and your entire being and you – what I feel for you is indescribable. That’s what love is.”

Jongdae thinks it’s funny. There they are on the rooftop, Yixing confessing that he loves Jongdae yet cannot describe the feeling itself, while Jongdae’s heart is singing the same tune, lamenting an invisible sunset and a looming loss.

It feels like a sad ending yet it only just feel like the start.

Jongdae squeezes Yixing’s hand back. He leans into his side, using Yixing as his pillar. “Will any of this be enough to keep you?”

Yixing shakes his head. “You already have me. Just keep me in your heart, that’s all I ask. I will leave someday, but that’s not the end.”

It feels like the end.

“I’ve never felt so hard and so much like this,” Jongdae admits. He isn’t crying, but when he closes his eyes all he sees is tears on his face. When he opens them, he sees Yixing standing in front of him.

They kiss, they hold each other, Yixing sighs sorrow into his skin and Jongdae breathes him in. The rooftop dissolves beneath them, leaving a cloudy sky mourning for them.

Before they leave and head back to reality, Yixing tells him: “Forget about it for now. Forget about me leaving. Forget about me for now. Work hard, Jongdae. For yourself. And I will do the same, for you.”

+++

It’s over too quick – Yixing becomes static noise in the background while Jongdae pours himself into surgery after surgery, avoiding Junmyeon’s frantic and worried chases, leaning into Baekhyun’s side when he needs to be kept upright. Jongdae tries to make himself decent, wearing indifference on his face. Nobody asks him questions – nobody knew about him and Yixing anyway. It returns to normal. Dr. Zhang is only an important guest at the hospital now.

“He’s doing this so it’ll hurt less later,” Baekhyun reassures him during a solemn food break. Jongdae doesn’t feel assured. He tells himself to feel indifferent, but all he feels is the misery that comes with missing that very important piece of him.

“I know,” he says. “We gave each other something valuable to take with us wherever we go. That’s all that matters.” That’s all I will have.

“Is it enough?” Baekhyun asks him.

Jongdae nods. “It’s enough.”

He sees Yixing less and less because the Chief pulls him into many necessary meetings and Junmyeon gives him more interns and residents to mentor. They’re making the most of his presence while he’s still here, Jongdae remembers.

“He spent all that time with me,” he realises aloud, a whisper caught in an exhale too low for anyone around him to hear. He hides away in one of the curtained ER cubicles. No one comes looking for him.

It is so, so frustrating, and he is so, so frustrated. “He could’ve spent it teaching them the way he’s dreamt of…and he spent it with me.”

It needs to be enough, he knows. But it isn’t.

+++

Inevitably, the end finally comes; one week, days and nights of dreamless sleep and fixed feelings later.

“You know what the great thing is about us not getting any?” Chanyeol muses over his grilled chicken salad, aimlessly picking at the pieces of lettuce and red onion.

Jongdae is honestly disappointed in Baekhyun’s immune system. If he hadn’t caught the flu, hadn’t been sent home by a grouchy Yifan, hadn’t cackled at Jongdae when he called up to talk about Junmyeon (only to get the phone put down in response), then Jongdae wouldn’t have had to resort to last minute lunches with one of his more loonier friends.

From across the table, Kyungsoo throws the remaining half of his tuna mayo sandwich, aggressively chewing while he glares at Chanyeol. “What, Yeol? What could possibly be great about us not getting any?”

Jongdae lets Kyungsoo lead the banter, knowing that the head nurse’s tolerance for Chanyeol is a lot less than most people’s. If he had to answer it, though…he wouldn’t be able to. Oddly, it feels normal.

Chanyeol picks up a piece of lettuce, turning it over in his fingers while smiling wistfully. “We’re not getting syphilis. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Promptly choking on a chunk of wholemeal crust and bits of tuna, Kyungsoo breaks out in a coughing fit, spluttering out crumbs into Chanyeol’s plastic container. “Jesus,” he says after taking the wad of napkins Jongdae passes over to him. “The shit that comes out of your mouth is absolutely incredible.”

Being the good friend he is, Jongdae pats a still-coughing Kyungsoo on the back and nods. “I honestly wonder what he talks to his child patients about. He’s a little crude, isn’t he?” he wistfully says. Kyungsoo gasps in outrage.

Chanyeol’s still smiling thoughtfully, about to open his mouth to say something that Jongdae feels will probably end his life on a terribly bland tuna mayo sandwich – actually the worst way to die, he thinks – when the slam of a tray down onto their table and a heavy sigh disrupts them from casual conversation.

They all look up wide-eyed to find a haggard Lu Han slumping down into the chair next to them. Said man sighs again, more dramatically than the first, and Jongdae looks to his friends for help.
Jongdae takes the initiative and asks, “Hey –“

“No, you guys, I am far from okay!” Lu Han whimpers, fidgeting around in his seat like a distressed child, whines spilling from his mouth.

When he doesn’t elaborate as to why he’s moping, Jongdae clears his throat, meets Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s startled eyes and asks, “What –“

“Minseok!” Lu Han cries, looking at lot like he’ll start rolling around on the floor in despair. Jongdae isn’t quite sure how to react.
It’s even more unfortunate when Chanyeol opens his mouth and says, rather cheerfully with a grin that both Jongdae and Kyungsoo know will be a mistake on his part, “You look utterly fucked, Nurse Lu! Minseok hyung must be tiring you out a lot these days, huh, lover boy?”

Lu Han momentarily looks up from his puddle of invisible tears, shaking his head in exasperation. “I have literally just sat down and you’re already being an indecent member of society.”

“He’s always been like that,” Kyungsoo adds, a scowl on his face. “He was talking about syphilis before you came along.”

Jongdae lets out a snort when Chanyeol pouts at the other’s words. Lu Han holds up a finger to silence them all, at which they obediently shut up. “No, you don’t get it. This face,” he gestures exaggeratedly to the bruises under his eyes and puffed up cheeks of stress, “is because Minseok cancelled our date! Our first weekaversary, and he cancelled it!”

“Did he say why?” Jongdae asks, half-wanting to reach over and pull the nurse into a comforting embrace and half-wanting to shake the living daylights out of him.

Lu Han crosses his arms over his chest. “He said he was helping Junmyeon and Yifan set up the leaving party.”

“Leaving party? What, why? And for who?”

When Jongdae meets his gaze, something in Lu Han’s eyes tell him that he knows the answer, even though he doesn’t want to. And, if Jongdae digs through memories of the past week’s events lying at the very top of his head, he gets it.

There is no one else in their hospital that would be preparing for a leave because most of the hospital’s workers were bound to years and years of a contract. There is no one else that comes to mind when Jongdae thinks of the word temporary other than, of course, Yixing, who was only meant to be here for a few weeks, who stayed for his sake and their sake, for lectures and to assist in special cases. Yixing, who is both Jongdae’s guide and his mentor, is temporary. In the confines of the hospital, in the surgical ward, in Jongdae’s life. A few weeks at the least and he was bound to leave, because this little stop in Seoul hasn’t pencilled him in to stay.

And he gets it, he really does.

“Yixing is leaving,” he mutters under his breath. It's happening all over again. The reminder is back. All his hard work poured into not remembering, gone. His eyes are trained down on his tray of food, now untouched because he’s suddenly lost his appetite, and he can’t bring himself to meet the eyes of his friends. They don't even know.

“In a few days’ time,” Lu Han comments. “And Minseok…”

Jongdae nods, letting his friend take over the conversation. He drowns him out, taking a moment to steadily breathe through his nose in an attempt to hide how much his body is actually trembling. It’s a tiny ache, stuck somewhere in the middle of one of his ribs but nowhere near his heart. It’s not longing and nor is it a bruised heart, but it is more of disappointment that takes him by surprise.

Yixing is temporary and he was stationed to eventually leave but Jongdae can’t help but think that for these past few weeks, Yixing had been the most constant thing in his life. From their untimely work breaks spent on the rooftop to their little hideaway adventures in one of the private patient rooms trying to catch up on lost sleep to that one time Jongdae let him into his apartment to save them both from the rain, only to end up stuck under the downpour with their hearts welded together by their lips – the little moments that have made coming to the hospital every day a little more tolerable, all down to Yixing’s presence.

Dr. Zhang is a loved, yet temporary, figure in the hospital but Yixing? Jongdae swallows the thick mould of disappointment stuck in his throat. There is no other way of thinking about it. Yixing is permanent in the one place that is used to passing trains: Jongdae’s heart.

+++

On the day Zhang Yixing is scheduled to fly back to China, Jongdae chooses to hole himself up in the empty private patient room. It used to be theirs. It used to be something more.

His knees are pulled up to his chest, his chin resting atop of them, and he thinks about the past few days and weeks reluctantly. Minseok finally growing balls to tell Lu Han just how much he wants him,; Sehun getting injured while working with Jongin at shift at the clinic, under Jongdae’s (maybe not so much) watchful eyes; third wheeling one of Baekhyun and Junmyeon’s dates and wishing he could have that too, all before self-defeating picturing Yixing with him; Yixing bringing him lunch for dinner on the rooftop; the argument with Baekhyun over, well, who else? Yixing; Yixing in his apartment that first time during the rain and another time with his jeans sinfully hung low and his cheeks adorably pink from the unsaid distaste over Jongdae’s cooking; Yixing with that sad look in his eyes whenever they bumped into each other in the hallways; Yixing with Jongdae’s favourite smile of his when Jongdae met his eyes from the balcony weeks ago, a special cheer rooted deep in them; Yixing, from start to finish in tangled strands of a story Jongdae is running out of time to read – has run out of time to read.

There’s suddenly too much Yixing in his head, and Jongdae groans. The lack of sleep he’s been suffering from for a while seems to be taking a heavy toll on him, he thinks, because now all he can think about is Yixing and how everything points to wanting Yixing to stay.

He’s just about to start another round of self-pity when the door quietly swings open and clicks closed almost all at once. Startled, he lifts his head from his knees, and Yixing – who else? – is standing in front of him.

The sad look in Yixing’s eyes make him look so lifeless and strange. Jongdae finds that he can’t quite look at him in the eyes, so he stares down at his knees and wishes the dread in his stomach to go away.

“There was one thing I wanted to do before I left,” Yixing whispers. He sounds so, so lost; Jongdae is aching all over again. “But I can’t remember what it is.”

He walks in, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t come closer to the bed and Jongdae doesn’t wish him to.

“Are you all packed?” he asks. Are you ready to leave?

“Yes.” I’m not ready.

“Have you said goodbye to everyone?” Are we saying goodbye?

Yixing exhales shakily. This is hurting him as much as it is Jongdae, the latter hears it all. “I don’t want to.” Yes, we are.

“Alright,” Jongdae says. He finally looks up. Yixing looks like a wreck, but so does Jongdae. “I guess this is it.”

But even though Jongdae climbs out of the bed, slowly with reluctance, Yixing is the one who strides over and wraps his arms around him. The walls are in ruin, the bricks that lie on top of each other that have spent weeks separating the both of them for their sakes have collapsed. This is it. Jongdae braces himself.

Yixing surprises him. “You told me to tell you the moment I find home, and I told you that you’d be the first. I’m going to tell you now, Jongdae. I found home, and I left it with you. The pieces of me I gave to you are sheltered in your hands – and that’s it, that’s what I’ve found.”

Jongdae closes his eyes and lets his chest overflow with feeling. All the built up loss and longing and pain and wishful thinking – all at once, they crash into him in violent waves. He tries so hard not to cry that he cries in frustration at the action. Yixing holds him in his arms, but his arms are still by his sides.

The realisation is terrifying: Yixing had been planting himself in Jongdae's heart, leaving them for him to take care of. He had been setting up for this moment, even if they hadn't known where it would take them.

If he reaches for Yixing now, he’ll have to watch him slip out of his hands, his fingers, like sand and broken glass, and he will bleed.

“I’m going away for a while and I’m going to fix some things up,” Yixing mutters into his skin. “While I’m gone, take care of yourself for me.”

Jongdae isn’t holding onto him, but he doesn’t want to let him go. He feels like drowning, the water filling his lungs until they spill out of him in the form of tears.

Yixing is drowning, too. He hears in the tremble in his voice, the shiver in his shoulders, the way he holds him. They’re drowning. The only person who can save them is each other.

“I will,” Jongdae says, muffled from where his mouth presses into Yixing’s clothes.

“This isn’t the end,” the other replies, as if the future is in his hands and already determined under his command.

Jongdae nods. He pulls away, looks at Yixing and grins at him through wet eyes. Even like this, undone and left open, Yixing looks incredible. Jongdae will never forget this.

They kiss, like the first time, like all their other kisses, like lifelines bound to each other. It feels like goodbye but it also feels like hello. It feels like many things all at once, and it consumes the both of them in water and flames and air.

When they break apart, Yixing is already pulling away. Jongdae doesn’t bother to latch onto him. It feels less like loss and more like hope.

Yixing smiles at him, reaching into his back pocket for something. “I’ve remembered now. I came here to give this to you.”

He holds out an envelope. Jongdae takes it, hoping his hands don’t shake too much as he does so. He stares at it, already hating it for the goodbye it contains. He feels it, he sees it. He doesn’t want to do either.

When he looks back up, Yixing is at the door, his handsome grin and charming dimple like a wave goodbye. “I’ll see you, Jongdae,” he says. “This isn’t goodbye.”

Jongdae wishes there would be more than just see yous, but they’ve lived all the feelings together already.

He struggles to smile but it comes in the end. He thinks of himself saying I love you to Baekhyun, as easy as it would be to say the words to his parents and friends, and thinks about how hard it is to say it now. Just when he means it the most, it does not come to him.

Yixing is already halfway out the door. Jongdae can’t take his eyes away from it – he wants to memorise this moment, Yixing, them, so he commands his every sense to do so.

Yixing flashes him one last grin. His last words are, “Take care of yourself for me,” and then he is gone.

Jongdae hesitates to open the letter.

It feels like loss all over again.

He slides the letter out.

But it feels like hope, too.

There are three lines written on a piece of paper inside.

Jongdae’s breath hitches. He reads. He remembers.

Give me two months and I’ll be back to make sure you don’t starve to death on grass bowls. Eat cheese fries every lunch break and think of me. Two months, and the sunset will be ours again.

He laughs. He feels ridiculous. He wipes his eyes of tears. His heart swells with hope, no more loss. He closes his eyes. The letter in his hand is light as a feather. He clings onto it with his every being. He pictures Yixing. He loves Yixing.

Yixing is wrong. Jongdae feels it in his heart; this is not the sun setting, but the sun rising.

+++

TWO MONTHS LATER

Airports are just like hospitals in Jongdae’s eyes. White tiles, many labelled signs telling people where to go and when. People in uniform, people coming and going and staying behind when they need something checked out.

“I hope he’s late,” Baekhyun comments from where he’s standing beside Jongdae. Both of their heads peer above and around the crowd for any signs of Yixing. “Junmyeon can pay the parking fee for all I care, let that teach him not to insist on illegally parking in a parking space for the disabled.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “I suppose this is more to do with him forgetting your anniversary than to do with his choice of parking?”

Baekhyun growls under his breath, and Jongdae knows he’s right. “You suppose right, but let me tell you that you’re wrong just to keep my ego and anger in check. When the fuck is Yixing gonna get here?”

“You have to chill out on Junmyeon, he was busy trying to help transfer Yixing over.”

“Shut up, Jongdae – he came back for you and my boyfriend has to deal with your shit,” Baekhyun cries. “Our first anniversary! Are you fucking kidding me!”

Jongdae pats him on the back, trying to understand the problem Baekhyun is currently having, but failing to. “There, there,” he deadpans. “And FYI, Yixing came back because Dr. Qian is leaving and someone needed to fill her post. It was part of Junmyeon’s secret as fuck plan.”

Baekhyun shoot him a glare. “You keep trying to tell yourself that, but you’re secretly smug because it’s you. Fuck your love, Jongdae!”

“You are really angry at Junmyeon, aren’t you?” Jongdae tries not to laugh. Baekhyun wouldn’t spare a second to tear him to shreds.

“Actually, Junmyeon didn’t forget about your anniversary.” The new voice sends shivers up Jongdae’s spine. It’s too recognisable – too obvious, too well-known. And all because he’s spent nights and days memorising it, remembers and reliving, living Yixing.

He turns around. Yixing is there, a duffel bag in hand and that familiar smile on his face.

Baekhyun huffs, “You lie, Zhang Yixing.”

“I do not,” Yixing scoffs, pretending to sound hurt. Jongdae is grinning so hard now that his cheeks are beginning to ache. “Ask Jongdae – I don’t lie!”

Jongdae crosses his arms over his chest. “You lied to me about you leaving.”

“No, I didn’t.” Yixing smirks. “I simply didn’t tell you and surprised you on my last day. Technically, I did leave.”

“You are never doing that to me again. Ever.” Jongdae can’t take it anymore – he runs the short distance, hopping over a stranger’s luggage and even a stuff toy dropped by a child and left behind. He crashes into Yixing hard and the first thing that hits him is his smell. He breathes him in. His clothes are inked with something fresh, something he can’t quite put a name to, but it smells new and old at the same time –

“Home,” Jongdae whispers into Yixing’s neck. “You smell like home.”

Yixing rests his forehead on Jongdae’s shoulder, and his own are shaking with laughter. “Impossible,” he replies. “I haven’t seen you in two months.”

At first, Jongdae doesn’t recall. Then he remembers: his heart in my hands, his home. It is me.

“God,” Jongdae exhales. “Welcome back.”

Yixing nods, pulling his head away slightly to grin at him. “To feel you in my arms again is the greatest welcome I could ever receive.”

Jongdae’s heart is full again, full and whole. Yixing’s departure left him empty but not with loss, for his was filled with hope. Now, he is full and his heart threatens to spill over. He is dizzy with joy and love and all the little emotions that make up his feelings for Yixing. He’s no longer drowning. He’s pulling his head up from the waters to breathe, and Yixing holds out a lifeline.

He takes it with confidence, without hesitance. He takes it, holds onto it for dear life, and he feels.

“Welcome home, Yixing,” he says.

Once Yixing welds them together again, the reminder that there is so much time and space and things to live and talk about and to do, all with Yixing, to make up for last time, hits Jongdae. He pulls back with a laugh, a grin, a heart full of love.

He entwines his hand with Yixing’s free one, and together they turn to Baekhyun.

His best friend, despite the warmth and the sense of finally in his eyes as he stares at the two of them, wears a scowl on his lips and anger fumes from him. “Great, now Junmyeon is hardly paying anything and I’m still mad at him for forgetting. You couldn't have stayed out of sight a little while longer, Zhang Yixing?”

Yixing, to his credit, can handle Baekhyun just as well as Jongdae can. Jongdae feels as though it’s because they have a part of each other in them. “You’ve let the pour guy suffer enough, Baekhyun. Go outside and relieve him of his misery.”

Jongdae doesn’t miss the wink Yixing sends him from the side, and it makes him bury his face into the other’s chest as they embrace again. Baekhyun turns with a huff and storms outside.

“So what was that about Junmyeon apparently not forgetting?” Jongdae asks.

“Oh, nothing. Just a little something I helped plan with him to repay him for the transfer.”

Jongdae raises a brow. “What did you do?”

Yixing’s smile is contagious, as always. Jongdae breathes him in all over again. He doesn’t want to exhale. “I gave him a vacation. Junmyeon has the tickets.”

“A vacation?” Jongdae, doubtful, shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”

Shrugging, Yixing is smug with his smile. “So is Baekhyun. I do hope they like Changsha.”

Jongdae doesn’t want to believe it at all, for all its ridiculousness – but then he remembers that this is Yixing, and Yixing is ridiculous. “You’re going to torture Junmyeon,” he snorts. “You are crazy.”

This is nothing to Yixing; he shrugs and the smile never leaves his face. Jongdae loves him so much, like no other. No one else compares when Yixing’s smile is the fireplace in the home he’s dreamt of, surrounding by warmth and welcome. No one else compares, at all.

“Look what you’ve done to me, again.” Yixing shakes his head in slight disbelief.

Jongdae, rolling his eyes but feeling a swell of nostalgia in his heart, asks, “Hey, what did I do now?

I’ve let you in.

I’m going to let you ruin me.

Yixing begins his answer with a kiss on both of Jongdae’s cheek. This time, he says, “You’ve turned me crazy, Kim Jongdae.”

---

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