Yixing cursed the sliding doors at the entrance of the common room, and the loud suctioning sound it caused when it slid closed. It was too loud for so late in the night, and while the doctors understood his wandering to his bedroom, his peers would not. He stepped quietly down the hall, and he could only breathe again when he reached his door. His relief was given too early, however. “Where have you been all day? Why are you getting in so late?” a voice came from his side, and Yixing only glanced up for a moment to see who the speaker was. Junmyeon had assumingly come from the bathroom at the end of the hall, and was heading back to retire to his own room. “Oh,” Yixing hummed, tapping his blunt nails against the metal knob on his door. “Just spending some time to myself.”

“Yes, but you do that by means of playing the piano. You haven’t touched that in days.”

“I haven’t been in the mood for music,” Yixing turned to Junmyeon and let a smile meet his lips, but not his eyes. “Can I go to sleep now?”

“I’m worried, Yixing. It isn’t like you. I know you don’t like to bother anyone with your problems, but if something’s wrong, you should talk about it.”

The taller shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Actually, everything is rather good,” He opened the door and bowed his head to Junmyeon, “So, good night, Junmyeon.”

Yixing dreamed of Yifan. He dreamed of his large hands on his hips, and his small lips pressed to his own. He dreamed of soft kisses, and tongues brushing shyly against each other as their hands and fingers roamed freely. He dreamed that Yifan’s hand heated the skin from his hip bone and across his stomach, and down, down…

No, Yixing. Bad, Yixing.

Yixing cursed his own mind for supplying such images when he woke up with a painful heat between his legs. It had happened plenty of times before, as it would happen to any other man, but this was the first time Yixing knew the true cause of it. He was lusting after Yifan.