TITLE: we'll play hide and seek to turn this around
WARNINGS: inaccurate canon events, mentions of injuries
SUMMARY: Lu Han makes Yixing deviate from the dictionary definition of "friends" and asks for a handjob. Yixing traces the meaning right down to the root and finds more than what he has bargained for.
FINAL NOTES: many thanks to the mods for letting me participate in their wonderful fest! dear recipient, i hope this is to your liking! ♡
|The first time is happens is during their Disneyland adventure.
He and Kyungsoo lose in a game of rock, paper, scissors, and the group urges – no, forces – them to dance their MAMA choreography in the middle of the amusement park. It's not supposed to be a big issue – they are supposed to be accustomed to performing in front of a crowd by now, after all, what with debut drawing closer, but it feels different without the right costume, the stage make-up. Without proper lighting and the set to make dancing to some weird Gregorian chant not seem so out of place and feel more natural. Still, Yixing honors the agreement and turns to Kyungsoo with a small smile and a soft apology when he whispers, sorry. Kyungsoo shrugs, shakes his head, says, "We don't have a choice. Let's– Let's just do this." So they head to an open area of the park and dance there, just the first few lines of the chorus, and scramble back to the group once they've done their part of the deal.
What follows is applause, scattered all over the park, and bright grins on the faces of their spectators. Something in Yixing blooms, the slow and simmering heat at the pit of his stomach reaching boiling point and making his insides turn.
If this is what performing in front of a crowd means then he should think of tapping out right now. He's not ready for this. He's not sure if he'll ever be ready.
Joonmyun gives him a pat on the back for a great dance, though, and Jongin flashes him two thumbs up. Sehun is ready with a one-armed hug and a light squeeze of the arm. The rest of the faces is a blur, but maybe that's because he can hear the sound of shutters clicking now, can see cameras aimed at them out of a corner of his eye. Then Lu Han reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist, pulls him out of the spotlight and to the side.
He looks at Lu Han's hand around his wrist and thinks, nice save.
He looks up at Lu Han, meeting him in the eye, and sees Lu Han's weird, toothy smile. His stomach turns a little. There's no one but Lu Han in front of him. He thinks, wow, that's weird.
Later, as they wait for their shuttle, Lu Han slips right beside him and bumps his hips into Yixing's. He's known Lu Han long enough to know that this means 'I'm bored; entertain me'. Alternatively, 'I think you're bored. I'll commiserate with you.' Yixing doesn't ask, simply addresses Lu Han with a curt nod and leans a little to his side, until he feels the friction of their sweaty arms against each other.
Lu Han's wearing the same grin. He chuckles. The sinking sensation hasn't left him yet. When Lu Han sticks out one earbud and hands him his iPod, he takes it without question. He plays one of Lu Han's w-inds. songs in return because it's only fitting to give in to the unspoken request to play one of Lu Han's favorite tunes. That's what good friends do – commit an act of kindness in return when they're entrusted with the playlist for the rest of the trip. And they're good friends.
Lu Han isn't the conventional kind of attractive, by any means. That's Joonmyun. Lu Han is… the weird kind of attractive. Amusing, Yixing would say, but that's because he knows most of Lu Han's secrets – Lu Han doesn't wash his hair with shampoo in the morning, uses conditioner instead. He uses Minseok's soap instead of his own because 'Zitao will end up using mine, anyway.' Sometimes, Lu Han forgets to brush his teeth and it's gross, so he always has Mentos in his bag or in his back pocket. Yixing had called him out on it before, saying, "No one's going to eat Mentos off your ass." Still, Lu Han kept his one-week-old Mentos pack in his pocket and wiggled his ass in the air as if challenging Yixing – I'd like to see you try.
Three weeks after and Lu Han finally regrets his dirty habit. He finds his favorite pair on his chair, ants gathered on a dark patch on the back pocket. "You did this, didn't you? Sabotage! You hate these pants because they make my ass look good!" he says to Yixing, an accusing finger pointed at him.
Lu Han's nostrils are too big and his cheeks are flushed. He looks like some scary monster, except he has anime eyes. It's a gross type kind of attractive, Yixing notes. It's cute.
Yixing comes to terms with Lu Han's face in Japan. They've already done three SM Town concerts prior to that so it doesn't make sense, Lu Han's pre-concert jitters. "The crowd's fucking huge. Bigger than before," Lu Han reasons out, mumbling, worrying his bottom lip. His hair is a mess but that's the way the stylists have fixed his hair. It adds character to him, makes him look more… reachable, attainable, less perfect. He'd been marketed as China's golden boy with the face of a prince ever since his teaser had been released. It's only normal for SM to find a way for Lu Han to connect easier with the fans, to make them fall in love with a real person and not just an idol.
Yixing reaches out, unfastens the top two buttons of Lu Han's jacket. Lu Han furrows his eyebrows at Yixing for a moment until he gets it. The tight press of his lips eases and then he's flashing Yixing that toothy smile of his. Yixing still doesn't get it, the whole 'face of a prince' thing, but he gets the jitters now when he hears the crowd scream just beyond the curtains. It creeps up to him in the same way that the beginning of autumn does – a gentle breeze, the soft blowing of the wind against his face. The loose strands of Lu Han's hair finding home on Yixing's face and Yixing blowing Lu Han's hair away in an attempt to not get make up on them. Yixing sort of saying, 'please let me know if you're planning to enter my private space', and Lu Han chuckling in response but not moving away because they've known each other long enough to not mind the small slips.
"Sorry, my bad," Lu Han whispers. He turns so that they're facing each other. Minseok walks past them and Lu Han stutters forward, closer to Yixing, hands settling on Yixing's hips. They're pressed so close together now, close enough that Yixing can hear Lu Han's uneven breathing. Close enough that he can make out that tiny blemish on Lu Han's cheek if he squints hard enough, even in the dim light. Too close that the only thing he can fix his gaze on without getting cross-eyed is Lu Han's lips, pink and supple, made inviting by the soft light shining down on them.
Behind them, Sehun and Jongin are still going through the routine. Baekhyun, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae are rehearsing their lines. Chanyeol's stretching his long arms over his head and tries really hard not to hit Zitao when he swings them behind his back. Joonmyun's pacing around and holds up five fingers in Yixing's direction. It can mean, 'we're up in five minutes, better get ready'. Alternatively, 'think of five reasons why you shouldn't push Lu Han away and get back here because we're set to perform in five minutes'.
He comes up with just one – because he's Lu Han and they're friends. And friends don't push each other away even when one is breaching the other's personal space.
"Better?" Yixing asks after a while. His hands are still holding onto the plackets of Lu Han's jacket.
"Yeah. Kinda," Lu Han answers. He licks his lips, catches his bottom lip between his teeth for a while, then smiles a little. "Yeah. Much better."
"Three minutes," Joonmyun calls out. Yixing drops his hands to his side in response, intending to return to where the group is, but Lu Han hasn't let go yet. Lu Han still has his hands on Yixing's hips and really, Yixing doesn't have anywhere else to go, doesn't have any other escape route, so he doesn't move, doesn't pull away, even when Lu Han leans a bit too close for comfort and presses a light kiss to the tip of his nose. It's a normal enough gesture that he only brushes it off, files it to the very back of his mind because Lu Han is interesting and weird and has a weird way of expressing things he can otherwise say in words. If he ever thinks of what might have happened if Lu Han kissed him on the lips, instead, he doesn't let it show.
He doesn't think of it even when they shuffle inside the van hours after their concert has ended. Lu Han's thighs are glued to his and his head is heavy on Yixing's shoulder. Yixing focuses on that, instead – Lu Han's weight against his arm like he's saying, you can't escape, there's no turning back – and skips to a w-inds. song, another one of Lu Han's favorites.
After one of the shows, still drunk with post-concert adrenaline, Lu Han joins him in the shower and offers to 'scrub his back'.
In hindsight, Yixing should have been doubtful of Lu Han's motives already. Yixing hadn't asked for any favors within the past week so Lu Han probably wasn't there to return the favor. Lu Han had been going on the past few days about the strain on his thighs when they do their MAMA choreography and, damn, this whole doing concerts while promoting our group stuff is really draining. So it only makes sense that Lu Han wants more than to just save on time and water by showering with Yixing. It makes sense that he needs a touch less impersonal than that of a stylist's or that of a fan's to tide him through a new slew of promotions. It makes sense that Lu Han says, "Please, help me out," voice barely above a whisper.
"You should've just–" Yixing groans when Lu Han massages his scalp. "Fine, fine, just… tell me what to do," he continues, feeling his throat again. Behind him, Lu Han chuckles, thanks him, offers to rinse off the shampoo before trapping him against the wall.
Lu Han kisses like a fucking teenager – too much teeth, not much tongue, hands misbehaving and brain a complete mess. There's no pattern to this – one minute, Lu Han is kissing Yixing's mouth, sucking on his top lip, then the bottom, and then the corners of this mouth; the next minute, he's sucking marks on the underside of Yixing's neck while sliding his hands down the slope of Yixing's back. Yixing takes this as his cue, guides his hand forward and wraps his fingers around Lu Han's hardening cock. Lu Han bites a bit too hard on Yixing's shoulder at the first contact, and then he's mouthing unintelligible words on Yixing's skin, a weird mix of Chinese and Korean and something else. It's hard to tell with the sound of water rushing to the tiles and the loud thumping in Yixing's chest, but he can't be bothered to make sense of anything anymore. Here Lu Han is, too pliant and too willing, yielding without a second thought. And here he is, offering comfort in the warm press of his hand on Lu Han's cock, in each easy jerk that he sets to the rhythm of Lu Han's uneven breathing.
Lu Han cups Yixing's ass and Yixing kicks him in the ankle. Lu Han only groans in distress and buries his face in the crook of Yixing's face like he doesn't want to see himself get wrecked; feeling it is enough. Yixing works harder, then, picks up pace as he pumps Lu Han's cock in a loose fist. "Yi–xing" comes Lu Han's choked whisper, like he means to encourage or plead for Yixing to go faster, but Yixing doesn't. Instead, he draws out each stroke, gives Lu Han's balls a gentle squeeze everytime Lu Han's breath hitches.
"Fuck," Lu Han groans, then cups one of Yixing's cheeks with his palm. For a moment, Yixing is caught off-guard, but he keeps moving, eager to please and keep his word.
Out of options, Lu Han crushes his lips into Yixing's and sucks on Yixing's bottom lip like a lifeline. Yixing squeezes a bit too hard on Lu Han's cock in surprise. He can feel the slow-forming smile on Lu Han's lips, the gentle upward tug against his skin as their mouths slide inelegantly, and then Lu Han's spilling all over his knuckles, coming with a drawn out moan. Fearing that someone else will hear, Yixing keeps their mouths pressed together, swallows all of Lu Han's sounds as he gives Lu Han's lips a gentle nip. And then Lu Han's chuckling, cackling, laughing like the whole situation won't get them into trouble. Like he doesn't give a shit if someone walks in on them right now like this – Yixing with his hand around Lu Han's cock, and Lu Han running his thumb along Yixing's abused lips. Like he actually enjoyed it and he wants more of it with the way he's rutting his knee against Yixing's crotch.
"Thanks," Lu Han mumbles, and presses a kiss to the tip of Yixing's nose. When Lu Han grabs his ass again, he doesn't stop him and only rocks his hips forward in invitation.
It happens again halfway through preparations for their comeback.
Promoting as one group means having to be away from their families for an extended period of time. Yixing gets it, understands the logic behind it – they'd signed a contract and agreed for separation to hit ten times harder whenever they have to fly from one country to the next, narrowly missing China and heading to a different destination, instead. It doesn't stop him from feeling a lot less comfortable, though, even if he's already spent years here in Seoul, walking down its streets.
You'd think that the lack of permanence has gotten rid of the homesickness by now. It hasn't – not for Yixing, and certainly not for Lu Han who climbs onto Yixing's bed, saying, "Too cold. Need warmth."
Lu Han slipping beneath Yixing's blankets isn't new. They've done this before, years ago when they were still unknown faces and they weren't even practicing the same song, dancing the same routine for hours on end. Lu Han'd snaked an arm around Yixing's waist then and rested his head on Yixing's chest. Yixing, trapped under Lu Han's weight, figured there was nothing else he could do so he played with Lu Han's hair until he fell asleep. It was two in the morning then and they were too tired to even care about what the management would say if they were caught using the practice room beyond practice hours. It was two in the morning and they were still too young to even know what the word for 'cuddling' was in Korean.
"You're gonna wake up with a sore arm," Yixing warns Lu Han now as Lu Han makes himself comfortable with the fit of their bodies. Lu Han only shrugs and buries his nose in Yixing's chest.
Times like these, Yixing wishes they were in an all-Chinese group. Then it would be easier to find someone to relate to, someone who understands his needs completely. Zitao does, for the most part, but Zitao doesn't know how to interpret Yixing's vacant stare – "He's thinking really hard," Lu Han would say – or Yixing's heavy sigh – "He's just really hungry. There's nothing wrong with him." Zitao knows how to coax a short tale out of him and make Yixing vent for five minutes, but that's about it. With Lu Han, it feels more natural to speak, to part his lips and then say, "I really feel like taking a dump," instead of, "I should call in sick for indigestion." There's a big difference. With Lu Han, he doesn't have to think too hard or too often. He doesn't even have to hold back.
Lu Han understands the way his body moves, the way he thinks. He could shut down his brain and Lu Han would be able to figure out how to reboot it. He could kick at Lu Han's cold toes and Lu Han will understand that as you're tickling me and not go away.
"You smell like sweat," Lu Han declares, but his voice gets muffled by the fabric of Yixing's shirt. He traces a line up Yixing's chest, cold fingers leaving a trail of tickles along its path. Yixing doesn't gurgle. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
"I said, you smell like sweat," Lu Han repeats. Yixing opens his eyes, then, and leans back into his pillow to get a better view of Lu Han, like he doesn't know what it means or that he does know exactly what Lu Han wants to get out of this. He just has to be sure. Sometimes, Lu Han is a puzzle; often, Lu Han is paper torn into shreds, pretending to be a mystery.
"We're running out of soap," Yixing replies.
Lu Han snorts and pushes himself off of Yixing. He splays his fingers on Yixing's abdomen, though. "Doesn't matter. There's always Jongdae's body wash."
The act isn't weird enough to warrant the 'crazy' tag, but they both know that stealing Jongdae's prized body wash isn't the best thing to do if they're trying to get on Jongdae's good side. Still, they take it then sneak to the bathroom in the 'M' side of the dorms. Lu Han pulls his shirt over his head and drops his boxers to the floor. Yixing takes time to appreciate the subtle dip of Lu Han's back, the grooves of his abs, his cock half-hard between his thighs.
He feels his fingers get cold as he fists his hands into his shirt. "C'mon, you smell awful," Lu Han says, and Yixing strips himself of his garments, tosses them to the side just beside Lu Han's own.
It feels different this time, getting under the spray with Lu Han and mapping the gentle slopes and curves of Lu Han's body with his hands. He feels more sure, like Lu Han has commended him on his previous performance and has given him five stars for a handjob well done. He runs his hands down Lu Han's back, cups Lu Han's ass and gives both cheeks a squeeze before spreading them apart. Lu Han shivers, goosepimples tickling Yixing skin, and Yixing feels a violent force tugging up at the corners of his lips. He presses a thumb along Lu Han's rim and Lu Han groans, burying his face in the crook of Yixing's neck, muttering, fuck, fuck, fuck–
Lu Han reaches south, knuckles grazing Yixing's cock. He pulls away and looks up to meet Yixing's gaze as if saying, you can't be the one doing all the dirty work. As if making it clear that if there's anything Yixing wants, he just has to ask. Like he's making sure that Yixing's knows that this isn't a game of give and take and take some more because that's not how friendship works. Friends help each other out. Friends exchange handjobs in the shower. Friends cuddle in bed and don't talk about the quick fuck the day after.
Yixing nods, whispers a small sound of approval. Lu Han wraps his fingers around Yixing's cock and gives it one slick twist.
Lu Han jerks him off like he's singing, like a vocal practice. Lu Han's fingers are cold and shaking as he pumps Yixing, and he keeps Yixing pinned in place with a stare. "Go on," Yixing says, indulging him, and doesn't swallow the choked gasps slipping from his lips as Lu Han picks up pace, jerks him harder and faster. The surprise comes in Lu Han dropping to his knees and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Yixing's cock, looking up at Yixing again as if asking, is this okay? He feels his thighs tense, like the warmth of Lu Han's lips pressed to his dick is too much to handle.
Lu Han fucking smiles against his skin and chuckles. The vibrations send a sizzle of heat down Yixing's abdomen. "Go," he croaks, then closes his eyes. "Do it."
If Lu Han's mouth moving against his own is warm, Lu Han's mouth wrapped around his cock is a different brand of heat altogether. All too familiar, like he's sucking himself off and it's weird, but Lu Han makes it work. Lu Han licks a stripe along his shaft and sucks on his balls just a little before pulling out entirely. Lu Han nips on the tip of his cock, lips brushing against his slit, and it sets off explosions at the tips of Yixing's fingers. Lu Han sucks him off, cheeks hollowing out like he intends to swallow Yixing dick first and fuck if that doesn't turn Yixing on. Fuck if it doesn't make his insides turn in the same way that his stomach had lurched the first time he saw Lu Han's bright smile.
His vision goes white for a moment and he feels his abdomen coil. Soon, he's spilling at the back of Lu Han's throat, and Lu Han cleans him up, gives his sensitive cock one last lick before getting back on his feet. Lu Han meets him with eyes half-mast and lips too swollen and red, and Yixing thinks, fuck this, and snakes his arms around Lu Han's waist. Lu Han seems surprised for a moment, dazed as he looks at Yixing with wide eyes, but he catches on. Soon, Yixing kisses Lu Han, backs him up the cold tiles and licks the back of Lu Han's teeth. He can taste himself in Lu Han's mouth and it makes him shiver, and he can feel Lu Han's cock rubbing against his stomach, and he can hear the soft sounds of protest Lu Han makes as Yixing sucks harder on his bottom lip.
Yixing pulls away and holds Lu Han from an arm's length. "Payback," he whispers, voice mostly drowned by the sound of rushing water. Lu Han grins at him in acknowledgement, though, the corners of his lips tugging up into a wicked contour of the mouth.
Once they've toweled up and they're back in bed, Lu Han falls asleep with his mouth open, poised in a nasty scowl that makes him look more like the idol of angry anime characters than a Chinese idol. Yixing reaches for his phone, snaps a picture, and stares at it longer than he should. He likes the way the corners of Lu Han's eyes crinkle while he's asleep. He likes it a lot.
The third, fourth time it happens, they make do with the cramped bathroom backstage.
Being on tour with all of SM Town means there's a high chance of running into someone and their plans being thwarted, but Lu Han seems to be set on letting off some steam even in the tightest of times and spaces. Yixing can't blame him – flying from one country to another makes you homesick, and of course you'd crave for a touch of home, the light brush of the knuckles against each other, the noisy slap of their thighs as Yixing jerks them off to the sound of SHINee rehearsing just outside. Yixing craves that brand of warmth as well, the kind he sometimes finds in stuffing himself with too much tteokbokki. It's not quite the same as the warm press of their bodies, the friction that comes with every easy jerk of Yixing's hand against their cocks. It isn't the same as Lu Han looking at him with eyes ablaze and lips red and swollen.
Lu Han gives Yixing's ear a gentle nip and whispers, "my whisper is the Lucifer," at the same time that Jonghyun's voice comes in. Yixing knees Lu Han in his thigh and Lu Han yowls in retaliation, but bucks his hips into Yixing's loose fist.
There's a bit of truth to it, though – Lu Han's voice is much like temptation luring Yixing in, and Yixing is weak. He has the resolve of a man on a mission on most days, but faced with Lu Han and his goofy grin as an invitation, he finds it hard to say no. Maybe because Lu Han knows him, knows how his mind works and knows him like the back of his hand. Lu Han knows how to con him into all of his bad ideas so they can turn them into good ones. Lu Han knows the extent to which Yixing is willing to go for a fuck on a busy day – "No blowjobs before big concerts; save them for the encore". Lu Han knows how just by a quick glance when Yixing just needs a hand to hold after a bad day or when he needs a long talk. He knows how to coax Yixing out of his shell and send him scurrying back inside at the first shift of Lu Han's muscles after a handjob too rough.
"Hey," Lu Han begins, and Yixing pumps them hard even before Lu Han can continue. The protest on Lu Han's lips melts into a moan, trapped against Yixing's skin, drowned by the battle of their tongues. And Yixing drinks it up because they can't be heard by anyone, they shouldn't be.
So he sucks a mark on the underside of Lu Han's jaw just as Lu Han spills all over his knuckles, lips parted in a drawn out groan. He licks and sucks until Lu Han socks him in the gut, then marks him on the skin just below his collarbone in return.
Yixing stops counting after the fifth, but that doesn't excuse him from the dull ache in his jaw every waking morning following Lu Han sucking his face until he couldn't anymore. What he counts, instead, are the many reasons why he should have stopped a long time ago when Lu Han asked him for a second time, "Is this okay?" You can't stand on stage with a bandmate you'd fucked the night before and expect everything to be okay, to not change, because the moment Yixing wrapped his fingers around Lu Han's cock, he'd signed himself up for trouble. And maybe he'd wanted things to change for... the better? For a wilder, more exciting turn? He can't tell. All he knows is that he signed himself up for the weird, sinking sensation at the pit of his stomach to get worse the moment he agreed to this arrangement. Nothing ever good comes out of Lu Han's crazy ideas. Where Lu Han goes, trouble follows.
"Sleepy," Lu Han mumbles against the slope of Yixing's neck. They're shuffled in the van again, having just arrived in Bangkok from Seoul. Another country, another place close enough to home but isn't quite like it. "Can't believe we're here at ass o' clock in the morning," Lu Han continues, nuzzling Yixing's shoulder.
Yixing looks up, looks at Lu Han, and then looks away. Lu Han's pleading voice is sticky enough a trap to not fall into; his searching gaze, even more. So Yixing replies, "Don't drool on my shoulder," doesn't give Lu Han a straight answer. Lu Han doesn't press on, doesn't question, but he does rest his head on Yixing's shoulder.
Yixing tilts his head and buries his nose in Lu Han's hair. He smells of hairspray and stage lights and the thrill of a crazy idea gone wild. Yixing takes another whiff until he's consumed by it and closes his eyes, willing himself to sleep.
(Yixing likes to think he's got this whole thing figured out already, but just when he thinks he's got the timing down, just when he thinks that this is just a phase, Lu Han lures him in with a soft smile, a light touch. Lu Han threads their fingers under the table as the management discusses the new concept with them. Lu Han doesn't let go until they have to stand and move to the next room for the first run of the routine.
"I hope this doesn't suck like Wolf did," Lu Han tells him in confidence later.
Yixing snorts, unable to hold it in. He promises, "We'll make it look good."
"Together," Lu Han asks, but for the most part his voice sounds so steady, so sure. So Yixing nods, places all of his hope and trust because this, at least, isn't a crazy idea. If it doesn't work then at least he isn't alone. There are nine other people to share the misery with, and one person to laugh at the crazy concept with.
Yixing takes Lu Han's outstretched hand and repeats, this time louder, "Together.")
Halfway through Overdose promotions, Lu Han injures his hand during a performance, following a nasty slip where he cushions his fall with his palms.
Yixing's first reaction is to look in Lu Han's direction, but his body keeps moving, sticks to their routine because that's what he's trained it to do. He moves to the front for the dance break with Sehun and Jongin, but he catches the look of pain in Lu Han's features – his furrowed eyebrows, his nose scrunched, his face contorted into some image of misery that claws at Yixing's chest and numbs his limbs for a moment.
"Focus," he catches Sehun whispering, and then he's back, movements as sharp as ever, body controlled by the beats of a song they've been dancing to for a couple of months already. He focuses on the crowd in front of him, focuses on performing for them, and thinks – he has to dance Lu Han's part as well. He has to be Lu Han right now. Whatever Lu Han is lacking, he must become. So he works harder, moves in a way he's never though he was capable of before.
The lights give off one bright blast and then they're dimming. The music dies down but the cheers don't. Jongin asks on their way to the backstage, "Will Lu Han-hyung be alright?"
"He will," Yixing answers with confidence. He isn't sure yet. He offers Jongin a smile, nonetheless. "Don't worry. He'll be fine." He repeata the same statement in his mind until it becomes easier to believe. "He'll be fine."
Lu Han's ugly face makes a comeback when Yixing meets him after their schedule. The damage was bad enough that Lu Han had to be rushed to the hospital even before the program ended. "We won first place," Yixing says as a greeting, trying not to grimace at the look of pain Lu Han gives him. He looks weird with that half-scowl, half-smile thing going on with his mouth. Yixing prefers Lu Han's supple lips and his gentle smile.
"Yeah. You texted me," Lu Han answers, curt and simple. There's a lilt in his voice though, one that sort of assures Yixing that Lu Han isn't in pain, has never been in pain. Lu Han holds his hand up, now bandaged, and says, "Wow. Didn't think it would be that bad."
"Stupid," is the first thing that escapes Yixing's lips, and he doesn't bother retracting it. Any fall would've been bad when not cushioned properly, Lu Han should know that. All injuries shouldn't be taken lightly. It's been years since Yixing damaged his waist and that still haunts him from time to time. "You're really, really stupid," Yixing says again, drawing out the last syllable this time like it makes a difference. "And you even wanted to stick around for the awarding? I heard it from the staff, I did. You can't lie to me–"
"I won't," Lu Han says. He pats the empty space beside him with his good hand and says, "I'd never lie to you."
Yixing furrows his eyebrows before taking a few steps forward. He doesn't climb Lu Han's bed, though, not yet, but Lu Han pats the space again, this time harder, like his patience is thinning. "Are you sure?" Yixing asks, slow and tentative, because Lu Han never lets anyone into his bed. Maybe his mother, but in all the years that Yixing has known Lu Han, he's always suffered the fate of being relegated to the floor at every attempt to lie on Lu Han's space.
Lu Han snorts. "I let you get in my pants, Xing. I think it follows that you have full access to my bed."
Yixing shrugs. He climbs onto it, movements slow and careful. "Hey, I injured my hand and just that. You don't have to do that," Lu Han mumbles, and Lu Han rests his hand on Yixing's thigh, rubbing lazy patterns with his thumb. Yixing means to argue, saying that if it wasn't anything serious then Lu Han shouldn't have been brought to the hospital, there won't be a need for all those bandages, I won't have to worry because injuries happen to idols and that's normal– but he doesn't. Instead, he indulges Lu Han in his request and tells him about the awarding ceremony, the way Joonmyun burst into tears as soon as they were proclaimed the winner, the way Baekhyun tried hard not to cry when the trophy was handed to him and burst into tears as soon as they got backstage.
"Did you cry?" Lu Han asks. His eyes are fluttering closed now and it's late in the evening. On a normal day, they'd still be up and about at this time, lying on their stomach while recounting the day, how the practice went, each wrong twist and turn of the torso during practice or their recent performance and every single fuck up that had happened for the day. Lu Han would normally be the first to crack a joke because he hates drama, but his body always says otherwise. Tonight, he's reaching up, cupping Yixing's cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin. It could mean, 'I've got you figured out, crybaby.' Or maybe, 'You can cry now. I won't judge. I have an uglier crying face than you do.'
Yixing succumbs into fatigue and leans into the touch. "A little," he confesses, and closes his eyes.
There's silence for a moment, and then the warm press of Lu Han's lips against his. Something hot and heavy lodges itself in his throat and he holds his breath, gasps, tries to breathe, but to no avail. Lu Han has him trapped with the messy slide of their mouths. Lu Han's touch, cold and feather-light, traces a line along his nape and makes him giggle. Lu Han is unrelenting, keeps sucking on Yixing's top lip, then the bottom, and then the corners of his mouth. Lu Han doesn't give him time to think, only gives him time to answer with his hands as Yixing balls his hand into a fist in Lu Han's shirt.
"You… probably shouldn't do that," Lu Han whispers. He's still in his performance clothes, Yixing soon realizes, and he lets his hand fall to Lu Han's thigh. "Or that, either."
Yixing gives Lu Han's cheek a light punch. "I know. I'm not stupid."
Lu Han nods, slow and deliberate, then sticks out a tongue at Yixing. "But at least you can do this."
Yixing has enough sense to look around for an audience this time before sinking into Lu Han's touch, submitting to the open press of Lu Han's mouth. They're in a private room and he probably shouldn't worry about getting caught, because they won't. And he isn't worried. If there's anything to worry about, it's the loud and wild thumping in his chest, the way his pulse beats against Lu Han's skin when he cups Lu Han's face and kisses him harder, pushes him down on the pillow. Lu Han giggles, laughs, a lovely peal of sound filling Yixing's senses. And he likes it. So he keeps kissing Lu Han to get more of that sound, that music. So they can dance to it.
This one, he doesn't have to think about. He leaves it to muscle memory, to the sinking sensation at the pit of his stomach fighting its way up his throat for a clumsy enunciation. He'll think about the right word for this some other time, when Lu Han is well enough to back him against the wall. Or maybe he'll just leave it to their mind link and try to make sense of things.
Lu Han knows him like he knows himself, after all. It won't be difficult for Lu Han to know what this bad habit, what coming back for the warm press of Lu Han's lips means. It won't be a puzzle at all.