You know what it's like to be really, truly tired?
So tired that you can feel your body protest and shove the fact that you're not a teenager anymore down your throat, where it settles as an odd, nauseating feeling in your stomach? So tired that you feel a mild headache that keeps pulsing whenever you scrunch your eyes close and open them again, hoping to finally get rid of the burning sensation?
Well, Zhixiang didn't just know this feeling, he was living it.
And we're not talking about the 'hypocritical business student whining about the exam he was too lazy to study for' kind of tired. No, Zhixiang was already 37 and therefore old enough to have nothing but a small smile for those. A few years worth of accumulated tiredness currently had him slightly swaying. A glance at his phone told him that it was currently 2:37 AM. A perfectly reasonable time to be awake, he told himself with borderline hysteric laughter. Not actual laughter, obviously. He wasn't keen on spending his break at the police station. His feet came to a stop, and he blearily blinked at his options, eyes roaming the blinking lights in the little side street of Seoul, probably identical to a hundred other ones. There was a little restaurant which seemed to mostly serve beer and fish, a chicken restaurant that was about to close, a kiosk of sorts, with a couple of noisy old men sitting outside, presumably drinking as well, and a coffee shop. He didn't have to think long. What his body wanted... was a double shot vodka, admittedly. But what his body needed... was an espresso. Preferably served in a large cup.
So he padded towards the coffee shop. A nice warm atmosphere, a strong coffee and maybe a slice of cake sounded like a good idea.

The shop was small, one might say tiny, though it was stretched over two floors. He'd reached the counter in about three steps, ordered an iced Caramel Macchiato with two shots of espresso from the sleepy-looking waiter and lounged at the small table, left of the exit. One look told him that the upper area had more tables, but a ceiling so low he felt claustrophobic even looking at it. And though he wasn't keen on attention, one could hardly get attention if there was no one willing to give it. The shop was completely deserted and offered absolutely nothing to distract him. With a sigh, he flipped out his phone, connecting it to the power outlet on the wall. He hadn't slept more than half an hour ever since he'd landed in Seoul about... he checked the clock on the wall, a very quaint-looking thing that shouldn't be displaying hours like this with pointers so ornamental. Yes, since he'd landed about twenty hours ago. He'd film his first scenes in Seoul on basically no sleep at all. Well, this wasn't a vacation and surely he'd manage to squeeze in some sleep the next day, if he cut down on the sight-seeing. Or breaks. Or food.
"Your drink, sir," a soft voice called out and placed a cup on his table. Zhixiang acknowledged it with a nod, already reaching out for his... citrus tea?
Really now?
He really had to get his order mixed up today, of all times? Then again, a look around the shop confirmed yet again that there was not a single customer in this god-forsaken place. His order was the only order!
Under normal circumstances, he might have simply shrugged it off, because he was a good-natured person like that. But he was running on nothing but cheap energy drinks, it was 2:42 AM and he felt like crying because this was no espresso. And if he was getting emotional over a cup of coffee, he had to do something, before he'd jeopardize their filming later.
He looked over at the counter... just to see the waiter leisurely sip on his coffee, only to wrinkle his nose in disgust at the taste. That was it. Not only had the sleepy guy switched their drinks, he also wasn't appreciating it right - a crime towards him, coffee in general and current nighttime.
"Excuse me?" he called over, not even bothering to stand up, seeing as the shop was empty and he surely wasn't bothering anyone close to them. The man blinked up at him as if startled from his microsleep, a sleepy smile lazily tugging at his rather full lips.
"Yes, what can I do for you?"
"I think that's my coffee you're drinking there," he deadpanned, and sleepy waiter looked down at the cup of sweet and highly caffeine-induced goodness. He blinked. Stared at it for at least three seconds, and Zhixiang was sure he couldn't see the gears turning, because their motions were so slow that they appeared static.
"Oh," he finally said.
Yeah. Oh, Zhixiang thought, but instead he threw him an expectant smile, patiently waiting for the waiter to gather his wits. He did eventually stumble to his feet, almost knocking over Zhixiang's original coffee (which he took with a sympathetic wince), and turned towards the machines behind him.
"I'm very sorry, I'll make you a new one, what was it again? Caramel Macchiato, right?"
"With ice, please. And a double shot espresso," Zhixiang called after him, watching his movements with suspicion.
"Oh right - the drink on the table is cold, too, silly me..." the man mumbled, and if the radio wasn't so quiet, he might have overheard it. When he heard him mumble an 'ah', followed by a soft 'oh no', Zhixiang got to his feet and went up to the counter, obviously worried about the state of his coffee. The young man turned around at the same time, looking thoroughly apologetic.
"I just used up the last bit of caramel syrup. It's late, and we get our supplies in the morning... I'm very sorry," he admitted, obviously awaiting an angry outburst. What he got instead was a crestfallen look by the actor, who was momentarily thrown off guard.
"Oh come on..." he mumbled before he could help it, and sleepy waiter hurried to placate him.
"But look, I could create something else, if that would be alright with you? Something sweet with lots of espresso, right? On the house, obviously."
Zhixiang tried not to look like a sulky kid being offered a redemption-scoop of ice cream.
"Like what?"
The waiter already reached around for some bottles, movements routinely, albeit a little hazy.
"How about white chocolate and brittle, do you like those?"
Zhixiang did, and quite frankly, as long as it was sweet enough to tone down on the espresso, anything was welcome. He should maybe be annoyed at the incompetence of the waiter, but it was hard to, with the way the airy boy bit his lip, blinking away at the sleep. He was so obviously trying his best, and Zhixiang was not an . Day in and out you meet people who seem odd, incapable or unfriendly - and you never know the story behind them. Surely sleepy waiter had a story, too, and without knowing it, he wouldn't jump to conclusions about his work ethic.
Luckily, the drink turned out very good this time around, and he couldn't help a grateful smile as he took it with something akin to awe (he should really go to bed); he'd obviously been generous with every ingredient, judging by the tower of whipped cream and generous flicks of sauce and brittles.
"Thanks."
"Oh no. Thank you for overlooking my mistake," the waiter replied with a soft, more genuine smile that had Zhixiang appreciate his overall appearance. Sure, he looked beaten down overall, but the smile gave him an impression of how charming he might be under different circumstances. Besides, Zhixiang himself had probably seen better days, and his mask needed fixing (surely, his foundation has all but melted at this point), so who knew what he currently looked like.

He trudged back to his table, unhappily took a quick call from his manager, before finally taking a sip of... of...
It was probably comical, the way his face pulled into an obvious grimace.
What. Was. This.
It certainly wasn't sweet, more bitter and - was that pistachio syrup?
Just. What.
He shook his head like a dog and took a quick sip from his now cool cup of tea. This was so not okay, he thought, looking up at the counter...
...where the waiter was sleeping like a baby, slumped forward in his seat, head buried on his arms.
Zhixiang took a deep breath. Alright. Whatever. He could drink this, it had espresso and that was what mattered.
If only he liked pistacchio.

 

Now you might ask yourself whether the ungodly amount of pistacchio had shriveled up some of Zhixiang's brain cells, causing him to return to the exact same coffee shop the next night. But Zhixiang was a firm believer in second chances - and unwilling to risk being seen in any of the other crowded places.
This time it was already quarter past three, but since the day before, Zhixiang had caught a few hours of sleep, and things weren't that bad. At least his environment wasn't moving in this odd, time-lapse like way anymore as soon as he made a sudden movement. That was something.
The moment he'd entered the shop, a deafening crash had him freeze in his tracks. It sounded nasty, like a huge amount of glass crashing somewhere in the back, and he grimaced in sympathy. Instead of a followed curse -which would be more than understandable- he only heard a faint, deep sigh, before the tinkle of glass signalized someone attempting to clean the mess, and Zhixiang knew it was the guy from the day before. He just knew it by the way he'd sighed. It was the reaction of someone who was way past actually caring and who just wanted the misery that was the day to be over. Zhixiang had been there. What might be the source of his awful days?
He stood at the counter, patiently waiting for the boy to clean up the mess and maybe take note of him, reading the entire menu to decide on his order carefully.
After a while, a mop of brunette hair appeared, and he saw the young man rub his eyes, before noticing Zhixiang and quickly snapping into a posture of a picture-perfect barista.
"Oh! You're back. Welcome," he began, still scrambling to gather his thoughts as he unsurely positioned himself behind the counter, "so, what can I get you?"
He still seemed tired, albeit a little less so than the day before. Zhixiang wondered whether he had fallen asleep again right after Zhixiang had left and roused him. He still looked sheepish, clearly remembering the fiasco from the day before. Adorable. Zhixiang shot him his most reassuring smile.
"One cup of Strawberry & Cream, please."
Because I'll definitely notice if you use anything other than the obviously red strawberry syrup, Zhixiang thought with silent pride over his ability to steer clear of social conflict while at the same time getting an enjoyable drink. His expression immediately faltered at the devastated look on the waiter's face.
"...what?" he asked slowly, and the boy averted his eyes.
"I... might have crashed a year's worth of strawberry syrup just now," he mumbled, fingers nervously skidding along the counter. Zhixiang whistled under his breath.
"A year's worth?"
The boy nodded.
"Wow, that must have been a mess," he hummed lightheartedly, and the waiter grimaced, silently showing him the back of his hands, which indeed looked like he'd slaughtered something.
"Bet that's sticky as hell."
Waiter boy nodded again.
Zhixiang blinked from his fingers back up at the distressed face. Well. He would sure not be the one to ruin his day for good.
"Okay then, no strawberries it is. No big deal," he shrugged, "how about an iced Caramel Macchiato today? You restocked on the caramel?"
He nodded almost comically eagerly, and assured him he even had little cubes of actual caramel toffee, quickly typing it into the till and fumbling with it, before getting to work. Zhixiang watched him get it right with barely any blunders (aside from the fact that he poured too much milk on the first try and spilled it all over the machine, but Zhixiang could hardly be bothered by a mess that wasn't his to clean).
All was well... until the drink was placed on the counter and Zhixiang offered some cash. Because only then did the brunet notice that he'd already closed the till, out of pure habit. Helplessness washed over his features.
"I can only get access at the next order, but," he began, and they both simultaneously looked around the deserted store.
"Okay, I guess that could take a while, huh?" Zhixiang finished the sentence, and the moment he turned back to the waiter, he saw him clench his jaw tightly, posture going stiffer. His cheeks looked rather warm, too.
"My boss is gonna kill me..." he mumbled, and oh my. He wasn't going to cry now, was he?
He remembered the way the miserable lad had rubbed his eyes moments before, and without thinking, Zhixiang pointed at one of the big cookies the shop offered.
"Hey, are those good?"
The boy sniffed once, but nodded while biting his lips.
"Alright, I'll take two, then," Zhixiang said, already adding another bill to the counter. Poor boy looked like he was about to cry for different reasons altogether now.
"You don't have to-"
"But I'm hungry, you wanna deny me my cookie?" he fell in with faux drama - and by faux drama we're talking about perfectly real-looking drama, because Zhixiang was an actor.
It coaxed a small smile out of the waiter, who added the order and cashed up accordingly this time. It looked so much better on him, that tiny smile, and Zhixiang waited patiently until the boy had approached his table with a tray, before pulling out a chair for him.
The boy looked puzzled, but Zhixiang wasn't one to be deterred easily.
"Won't you have a seat? Don't tell me you don't like this cookie after all. You wouldn't dream of tricking your customers, right?"
"What? No, it's really good, but-"
"Awesome. Prove it by taking the first bite then, will you?" he continued playfully, and the other was obviously hesitant about taking his offer, but ultimately resigned. Maybe he didn't want to upset him, but Zhixiang liked to think that this wasn't the case and that he was not coming off as a total creep. One could still be friendly in this time and age without being labeled suspicious, alright?
"I'm Zhixiang, by the way." he offered, and the brunet smiled.
"Zhang Yixing."

Zhang Yixing didn't seem too inclined to talk about his worries, presumably in order to not bore him, and so Zhixiang graciously took care of the talking. It turned out that Yixing, as well, was of Chinese origin (something he'd suspected, but had waited for direct confirmation), and they switched to Mandarin immediately. The fact alone seemed to cheer the waiter slash barista up. Zhixiang would be a fool to deny it, but Yixing had something so pure to him that it called out to his sense of protection. Yixing was far younger than him, but he appeared mature, not like someone pretentious or easily stressed. Trying to coax smiles out of him was fun -and oddly rewarding-, and so he actually told him about his occupation before the end of his break. He hadn't thought it possible for the other’s eyes to widen that much.
"Really?! An actor? That's so impressive!"
He didn't call it 'awesome' or told him he envied him, no. He simply called it impressive, a subtle gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Zhixiang, the veteran who was used to people fawning over him having such an 'easy, fun' job.
"Could you maybe- ah no. I'm probably being obnoxious, sorry," Yixing cut himself off, and Zhixiang was quick to protest. Maybe a bit too quick.
"No, no, just ask."
Yixing toyed with the straw of the drink he'd gotten himself.
"Could you maybe show me? Act out something? Not a lot, just-"
"Sure," Zhixiang nodded easily, very much used to requests of this nature. "What did you have in mind?"
The gentle boy looked surprised, as if he hadn't imagined having a say in this.
"Uh? I don't know... Just something you're comfortable with...?"
"Please, I'm a top grade actor, I'm always comfortable," Zhixiang playfully threw in with a cheesy wink. A look to the big clock on the wall had him click his tongue in discontent, though.
"Ah, sorry. My break's over. I'll be here until Sunday, so if you're on night shift tomorrow... see you then?" he asked, busily storing his phone cable and reaching for his sponsored and therefore spotless jacket. Yixing jumped to his feet as well, looking much more awake and happy already.
"Yes! I'm on night shift aaall week," he reassured him, not without a surprisingly sarcastic little smile. Zhixiang laughed.
"Ah, I can feel the dedication. If that's how it is, I'll see you tomorrow. Think of a skit until then, will you?"
He was almost through the door when Yixing enthusiastically called after him that he'd do his best, and Zhixiang only waved over his shoulder. What an adorable guy.

The next day, Zhixiang's break was quite early - around 1 AM already, to be precise. Usually, he wouldn't be too thrilled about this, since it meant no other break until god knows when they'd finish the scenes. All in all he was optimistic though, his steps light as he made his way to the coffee shop. Because today, he was only playing a minor role, and the scenes in question were shot in a cheap restaurant (meaning that he'd get hot food for once) - that, and of course he was looking forward to meeting the sleepy barista again. Not wanting to seem like a diva, but it wasn't everyday that Zhixiang made friends with some part timer. It sparked some long-forgotten traits in him. Back when he'd still been so unknown that he knew his core fanbase by their first names, he'd been so lively, almost comically eager to meet new people. Whenever had he dimmed down on that? Sure, being careful and private was part of his job, but when had it begun to flatout stomp his sociability?

Anyway, Zhixiang was an overall positive person, and instead of mourning and thinking, he simply enjoyed the newly discovered excitement. To be honest, he was very curious as to what kind of scenario the sleepy, but intelligent-looking barista would come up with.

And even though he was expecting, well, something, he was still caught off-guard by the way Yixing's features lit up when he entered the shop.

"Ge!" he called out and okay, this honorific felt more welcome than it probably should have. Before Zhixiang could comprehend the situation, the brunet had crossed the tiny shop and all but thrown himself at him. The hug was tight and warm, and Zhixiang was still a little perplexed at having his nose buried in coffee-scented hair without any warning.

"I haven't seen you in ages, how have you been?" Yixing asked, and oh. Oh. The younger one withdrew, though he firmly kept both hands on Zhixiang's upper arms.

"It's been what, 5 years?" he asked and he could see the hesitance in his bright eyes.

'Is this okay?', he seemed to ask.

Alright, Zhixiang had to hand it to him for catching him off-guard by lounging into the skit without warning, but he didn't win any of his awards for nothing (fine, except for the supporting actor-one last summer. It was hardly his doing that the main actor had lacked the chemistry, he'd readily admit that any day). His expression quickly adjusted into one of positive surprise.

"Yixing, I hardly recognized you! To walk into you at this coffee shop of all places - maybe we should start believing in fate, after all?"

The grin he got in response was way too warm and happy for someone who hit his shoulder, chiding him for his 'usual cheesiness'.

"What brings the big star into this sleepy part of the town? Oh, just take a seat, I'll get you something, my treat. You're still in love with sugar?"

Sneaky little thing, Zhixiang thought while being ushered to a table where he was asked to wait for a beverage to his liking. Yixing definitely was a smart one for coming up with this scenario, where he could act comfortably because the little information he had was almost completely sufficient.

"We're shooting a movie here!" he called over at him when the noisy machines had seized buzzing, "I'm the charming second lead yet again!"

"You wanted to be the main act?" Yixing asked while settling across him at the table, balancing a tray of (hopefully not ominous) drinks.

"I should always be the main act, excuse you," Zhixiang joked, eagerly poking his straw into the mountain of whipped cream, "but I get to play a guy in his early twenties, so if that's not flattering, I don't know what is."

"What's the movie about, then?" Yixing asked, and though he clearly noticed the way the other was blinking and rubbing his eyes frequently, his interest seemed genuine.

"Ah, it's a Mandarin adaption of some Japanese live action movie. It's about two very different girls - one of them is a tough little punk girl who sings in her band, while the other is a ball of aimless fluff who has no clue how to adult. I'm part of the band, and I'm the little sunshine everyone will ship with the gullible girl," Zhixiang ended his quick explanation with a proud little grin. Because he knew that this would happen. The way the movie was shot barely left the viewers any other option.

"Ah, you're already talking like an early-twenties guy..." Yixing commented with a way-too mature smile. "Maybe this movie will do wonders for you. Or ruin you. Your pick."

Zhixiang laughed.

"I think it might be the end of me - if I slip into this type of language at the next red carpet event, I'll never hear the end of it. And my co-actors are mostly younger than me, so there's really no escaping the influence. I can bring them over one day, if you want to meet them."

"I'm not too good with actors, so... I might not know them, even if they're famous? You know I'm more of the musician type of guy," Yixing said, and no, Zhixiang obviously didn't know that, but he rolled with it either way, breaking into a bright smile.

"What a lucky coincidence, then, that this movie is about music. We have Jolin Tsai acting as the fierce girl, and two Korean idols who sing as well, I believe. Ah, but Jolin would a little difficult... I mean, she's not difficult, but moving freely in a place like this..." he trailed off with a grimace Yixing mirrored.

"Ah. Too many rowdy fans?"

Zhixiang nodded. Everyone knew Jolin Tsai was a big deal and being the responsible and careful woman she was, she'd probably not venture into a downtown coffee shop at night. Ah, the pros of being a foreign actor in his late thirties. Zhixiang rarely encountered enthusiastic teens who stalked him across the globe anymore. Devastating.

"Anyway, what have you been doing the last couple years? Followed your musical passion?" Zhixiang turned the conversation around, lightly prodding for some background on the barista. And it seemed like Yixing was much more willing to share now. Whether it was because of the skit or Zhixiang's openness about himself, Zhixian didn’t know, but the boy didn't hesitate diving into an explanation turned rant about his occupation.

He told him that he'd become a choreographer at a small talent agency ("Really now? I'd love me some performance-" "Not here, Zhixiang-ge, please."), and how he'd been terribly stressed out lately, due to an upcoming idol group debuting.

"I'm telling you, one of them trained for five years, and his body rolls resemble an electrocuted dog!" Yixing whined, and Zhixiang spluttered whipped cream all over the table at the image.

"Sure, every group gets that one prodigy dancer, and the poor boy does his best to help, and I know that they have tons of other stuff to worry about but... seriously, at this point I couldn't tell you the color of my bed sheets, because I'm not spending any time cuddling with them anymore," the brunet ended with a sorrowful expression, as if his bed sheets were actual living beings able to develop a grudge at the lack of love. Zhixiang was the last one to hold it against him; lack of sleep can do funny things to your head.

"Sorry man. When is the debut gonna be?"

Yixing didn't have to think, for once.

"Five days," he said blankly.

"Oh. Damn." Zhixiang commented, and the other sighed.

"Don't get me wrong - I love them, all of them. They're good kids and they're trying really hard. I'm just tired, and with the latest events I lost track of my non-existing composing career."

Zhixiang wanted to burst from sympathy, because he knew this feeling so damn well. But bursting would not only not help Yixing, it would also give him more to clean up, so instead he lunged into a few funny childhood stories, gracefully moving in the boundaries of their skit ("That reminds me - do you remember that time when we went to my place and found the cat drenched in cold frying fat? I'm telling you, that's what I'd do in a place like this. It would be an accident, and then I'd sadly have to eat my way out of it."), and yes, Yixing was obviously tired to the point that he laughed easily, but every smile was worth more than a frown. And in the case of Yixing's dimpled smile, it was at least ten times as much.

Unfortunately, Zhixiang's break still didn’t exceed half an hour, but on the bright end of things, Yixing bid him farewell with a smile (despite having tumbled over a chair, almost hitting the wooden floor face first), and a challenge on his lips.

"It's your turn tomorrow."

Call Zhixiang silly -no one would be quicker to agree than himself- but he'd taken up his old habit of cat-napping whenever he could, so he'd be more awake at night. Sure, he probably ought to socialize more with his co-stars or at least get some sightseeing done, but whatever, his priorities were set. Fooling around with the young choreographer was fun, even though it was decisively more harmless than it sounded. Sadly.
...Sadly?

Anyway, cheering up Zhang Yixing had become Zhixiang's personal mission, and he wouldn't shy away from extreme measures. He was a variety show regular, after all - he'd outgrown minor concerns about retaining a certain dignity.

And so he limped into the store the next night, acting like he was already way past 70 years old. Instead of drinking coffee, he spent his whole break next to Yixing behind the counter, playing his fictional, way older co-worker who kept complaining about anything and everything, making Yixing do all the work (which he had to do anyway, since Zhixiang grew up with coffee filters, for god's sake), and being generally unhelpful. The hilariousness of everything reached its peak when they got actual customers, who probably assumed Zhixiang was either a mentally challenged relative slash colleague or... no, they probably took him for a mentally challenged person. Zhixiang pulled through with his act without batting an eyelash, making sure the very few customers would probably stay far away from this shop for good with his purposefully cranky voice and lectures on the good old times. It earned him a burst of laughter from Yixing the moment they had left, which was good enough. Definitely worth it.

Zhixiang was really growing into this, and so he chose to juxtapose Yixing's turn of choosing a skit by dragging his two Korean co-stars in with him on Friday. The couple was notoriously noisy, but good-natured, and they would casually slip into their roles, just for the jokes - it was comical, because the tall, dorky one was acting as a really cool punk guitarist and the rapid change was too absurd, while the shorter one turned into a quirky youth runaway slash e with a naive and playful attitude, who kept hitting on Yixing (or his co-star. Or Zhixiang).

Zhixiang, who was actually done with his shots for the day, saw the two off and stayed behind with the tired-out dancer. The beagle-duo had obviously absorbed his last bit of energy, and so Zhixiang spent the following hours letting Yixing sleep with the promise of waking him in case a customer entered (there were none, not after that number Zhixiang had pulled the night before).

Saturday bore even more fun, since Zhixiang insisted on choosing the scenario by simply slipping into it -much to the initial disappointment of Yixing- and for his hour-long break he brought the perfect act of an irresponsible wine aunt to the table. Not literally, because he had Yixing bring him lots of drinks to the table. And by drinks we're talking about water, obviously. He kept telling him to take it easy, to not worry too much about his job or, god forbid, social conventions, because "you only have one life so don't waste it on stupid people". It was only half-of an act, like their skits usually were, and therefore he was sure that Yixing's slightly more relaxed posture wasn't faked, either.

"I'm not telling you about having your whole life ahead of you," he began, downing the last bit of water, already half turned away from the table, as if he really couldn't leave his life elixir behind, "but keep in mind that the people who were willing to waste their time on you in the past, are the most likely to keep doing so in the future. Don't mind those who only know how to take."

He smacked his lips dramatically, like a woman might be doing if she were past 1.5 wine bottles.

"See you tomorrow, honey," he ended, and yes, this was probably the gayest thing he's ever done, and he's ed guys before. The moment he had stepped into the cool night air, Yixing called after him.

"Wait!"

He complied easily, turning to look at the other with a questioning glance, all acts dropped for now. And oh no, he was back to looking sad again.

"You're leaving, right? So... we're not gonna keep in touch, I guess?" he asked, and the hesitance in his voice woke the desperate urge in Zhixiang to cuddle it right out of him, to smother the insecure boy with a shower of affection. As if he would leave like this, without a word. He wasn't some drama hero, after all!

Zhixiang was the second lead. And second leads were better than that.

"Silly, you really think I would leave without scribbling my phone number on your arm?" he asked playfully, and Yixing smiled, though his eyes did flit down to his own arm, as if considering this.

"I'll be back tomorrow. My flight goes in the early morning hours."

Because I pushed it back, but that's not for your pretty little head to worry about, he thought, shooting him an encouraging smile. Obvious relief washed over the other’s features, and then hesitance returned in the form of a bite to his generous lips.

"So... it's my turn tomorrow, right?" he asked, and oh fine, how could Zhixiang resist those eyes sparkling with hope?

"Fine, if you insist. Make it good though."

Yixing looked even younger when he saluted with a bright smile.

"I will!"

Zhixiang had purposefully kept his mask on, even though filming had wrapped up hours ago - it wasn't that he was not confident in his bare face, but a bit of fairy dust would hardly do any harm. He'd obviously gotten rid of all the punkish accessories like his leather choker and silver piercings though, going with a simple pair of jeans and a light, woolen sweater instead.

...alright, so maybe he did put way too much thought into his appearance, considering how he was only seeing a casual acquaintance. His manager Huanglei even suspected he'd found himself a date (which Zhixiang had confirmed hurriedly,even if just to stop the bellowing laughter at the manager's own, oh-so-ludicrous guess, just on principle), and it had taken a bit of trickery to get rid of him. Now, he was nearing the coffee shop and hoped there wouldn't be any customers Yixing had to attend to. He wondered what kind of a skit Yixing would come up with. By now, he knew quite a bit about Zhixiang, so he wasn’t that limited in regards to scenarios anymore, and even though the brunet had obviously never learnt how to act, Zhixiang had honestly seen worse in his career. It was quite cute, to be honest.

He pushed the button that opened the electric door -because Koreans were apparently crazy about their electric doors- and the moment Yixing spotted him from behind the counter, he stared at him with wide eyes, mouth forming a surprised 'o'.

He quickly scampered around the counter and towards him, the usual look of initial hesitation on his features that Zhixiang was able to pinpoint easily at this point.

And even though he should be expecting anything at this point, he was caught by surprise yet again with the way the brunet placed his hands on his upper arms almost coyly as he looked at him with... fond exasperation?

"Zhixiang... why didn't you tell me you'd take an earlier flight? I would've welcomed you at the airport! Aren’t we over those romance movie clichés by now? Or were you suspecting me to cheat on you, huh?"

Zhixiang stared at him, and for once, he was so surprised that his brain blanked out on him. Wow, that hasn’t happened in years, his last few brain cells happily threw in as they cheered at each other with tiny wine glasses, still stuck in yesterday's act.

The gestures and actual content of Yixing's words suggested that he was Yixing's... lover? Who returned after a trip?

Sensing his insecurity, Yixing tilted his head with a look of genuine worry.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the double entendre heavy in the air.

Did I go too far?

Zhixiang, the actor, snapped back into it, before his brain could keep up.

"I don't know, am I? I mean, you didn't even greet me with a kiss - ah, it's so cold, you feel it, too? Oh wait, that is your cold welcome," he rambled in faux drama, an instinctive smile tugging at his lips, while the gears began to turn in his head, coming to one main conclusion.

Zhang Yixing.

You have some guts.

The brunet only rolled his eyes good-naturedly, before leaning in for a quick peck to his cheek.

"There you go, you big baby. You want me to make you some hot tea? To chase away the awful cold?" he quipped, a spark of mirth dancing in his eyes. Zhixiang raised a brow at him.

Oh. So that's how we're playing, huh?

He'd already confirmed that no one was around, so he didn't hesitate a second before pulling a surprised, but pliant Yixing along and into the faithful storage room that was probably harbouring faint specks of strawberry syrup in dusty corners. Zhixiang didn't search for them, because he was not the main actor of a drama. He'd prefer being a side character any day.

Because unlike the main lead, the side characters got some action.
“You’re awfully cocky today,” he breathed against Yixing’s lips, effectively trapping him against the only wall void of shelves, “I think we both deserve a reasonable welcome after all this time.”

It was obvious, of course, that he'd drop the act at a twitch of Yixing's little finger, but the other showed nothing but eagerness in the way his palm flew into Zhixiang's neck, urging him into the kiss. Neither bothered with pretending to be shy and sweet (how befitting for an established couple, wine aunt slash actor Zhixiang thought), and by now it really didn't come as a surprise that calm, mature Yixing had so much fire to him. It felt like he got a taste of choreographer Yixing, who was all controlled passion, showing in the way he moved against him. How he nipped at his lips with certainty, only adding his tongue occasionally, purposefully teasing him. How his hands came to rest on his hips, and, ultimately, how he slowly rolled his hips against Zhixiang's, cause goddamnit. God. Damnit.

Zhixiang couldn't hold back a groan and used one hand to tug the other’s dress shirt out, only to sneak it underneath and feel the muscles work with every movement under his heated skin. Yixing only hummed in approval with his deceivingly soft voice. The sound shot right down his spine, leaving a hot trail, and Zhixiang interpreted it as permission to go further. He impatiently tugged the first buttons of the other’s shirt open and nosed his way below the collar to leave hard, possessive kisses against his neck. His now free hand roamed down Yixing’s arched back to cup his firm behind and press their bodies together, eliciting a breathy gasp, and wow, he was actually doing this. Thirty seven year-old Zhixiang, the light-hearted, but responsible actor with a spotless career, was making out with a guy who was not only ten years younger than him, no, he was also a guy he hadn't even known seven days ago.

If he wasn't so occupied testing the other's reaction to biting (and Yixing loved it, judging by the soft moans and nails digging into his neck), he would have laughed. At himself, at this whole situation.

, he thought, half-blissed out, half-exasperated. He shouldn't launch himself into a one night stand, and wouldn't it be nice to experience the build up for a little longer, all the tension and excitement? To ultimately have more than a fling?

Maybe Yixing shared his sentiments, because instead of riling each other up any further, their makeout session trailed to an end almost naturally, though their aroused states made it clear that this was a decision of the mind, not the hormones. Their kisses had gone from urgent and hungry to deep and languid, neither willing to break away for good. In the end it was Yixing who drew away first, peering up at him with slightly glazed over eyes, looking ruffled in the best way possible.

"Is this the part where you scribble your number on my arm?" he rasped out, and Zhixiang huffed out a breathy laugh in response, one palm firmly dragging down the other’s lower arm, dark eyes sparkling with promise.

"Oh, don’t worry. I'll even give you my Skype ID."

It was needless to say that Zhixiang was exhausted on his flight back, even though he could genuinely deny his manager's wild theories about his love life escapades. Making out hardly counted, after all.

Still, that didn't mean he'd gotten an ounce of sleep ever since his last cat nap around noon which was about... he threw a glance at his watch and groaned quite pathetically. About 19 hours and 25 minutes ago. Not counting or anything. Adding to his state of misery was the fact that for all the extra money his agency paid for his first class tickets, the food was awful. And by food he was talking about the coffee. One sip had him wrinkle up his nose in distaste, and he pushed it aside, reaching for his phone instead, where he typed a quick message to the contact he'd saved as 'Little Lamb'.

- The coffee here is horrible. I already miss your pistachio abomination. -

Then he turned it into flight mode and fell into a satisfying slumber so deep that he didn't even stir during the landing. Or during the forgotten coffee spilling all over his lap.

No, Zhixiang's mind was already vividly storing away the memories he'd made with Yixing. Into his long-term memory, of course. He’d need them soon enough.

...did anyone guess the adaption I was hinting at? It's actually the japanese series NANA, which I adore to bits! ♥
And of course BaekYeol would play Shin and Ren, because Yeol seems to be stuck with the 'pseudo cool ice prince' type of roles.

Love,
Sugar-and-Salt ♥

P.S.: Do I think that 37-year-old Show Luo would pull off bratty 20-something Nobu? Yes. Yes, I do.