Yifan Wu was hot.

 

Sizzling hot.

 

Despite being in just a plain white V-neck shirt, denim blue jeans, and soaked white espadrilles with an umbrella in his hand whilst rain poured from the dull grey British skies. Espadrilles probably weren't the best choice of footwear for that kind of weather, especially when the whole country was just about to roll into autumn, but to Zitao this guy could wear anything he wanted and he would still gush over his excellent choice of attire.

 

Even Crocs!

 

Okay, maybe that was too much of an exaggeration.

 

Needless to say, Zitao was captivated, hooked, and infatuated with this blonde haired guy. His eyes would unconsciously follow Yifan’s movements until he was out of sight. He would grin to himself like a bashful fool as joy stirred within him whenever Yifan came into his line of sight once again. Whenever they neared, his heart rate would increase.

 

That was how the first day of university went.

 

“Maybe you should go say something to him,” his friend, Baekhyun Byun, suggested, nudging Zitao at the waist in a house party that they decided to attend months after Zitao first laid eyes on what he sometimes referred to as the 'Greek God'. “You can't just stand here all night staring at him from the other side of the room, that's just creepy, especially when you have those dark circles.”

 

Tonight Yifan is wearing a button up plaid shirt with a white tank top underneath (at least it I hope it is a tank top) and really slim fitted jeans. No espadrilles for once, but converses. Hot.

 

“They're not dark circles,” Zitao snapped defensively before taking a tiny sip of his jägerbomb to then scrunch his face in disgust at the foul concoction, it tasted far too bizarrely sweet. “We’ve talked about this before.”

 

They were there since birth!

 

“Whatever,” Baekhyun too took a sip of his beverage nonchalantly, already used to the many vulgar  tastes of alcohol from the first few weeks of university, or as the Brits called it 'Fresher's week'. “But seriously, do something.”

 

There wasn't much that Zitao could do. He was too much of a coward, too shy with minimal confidence in his system. And Baekhyun was getting tired of hearing his friend’s daily accounts about his encounters with the said 'Greek God'.

 

During the first month of the semester Zitao somehow managed to exchange numbers with Yifan after bumping into him a few times and made small talk.

 

Wow, why did he even talk to me and even bothered continuing after? Heck, why did he even approach me? I’m just so…unapproachable.

 

Jet black hair and eyes that looked like they belonged to a killer, various silver piercings dangling off his ears that contrasted against dark clothing, the occasional leopard print on days where he felt a tad chipper. 

 

He wouldn't necessarily label their relationship as friends, more like acquaintances. Though, Zitao did have thoughts on upping the level to friendship on lonely nights where he would type and delete messages that were intended to be sent to Yifan. Of course, no messages were sent in the end, and no messages were ever sent to him. It made Zitao wonder why Yifan even suggested that they exchange numbers in the first place, not that he regretted it.

 

The only reason why Zitao came to this stupid house party for the entire department was because Yifan said he was going.

 

Hey, are you going to that party this weekend? He had asked just a few days ago, in which Zitao could only splutter an indecisive answer before asking are you? Yifan nodded briefly and left when his friends called for him.

 

Zitao chewed on his lower lip whilst looking down at his drink, feeling the alcohol slowly getting to him, even if it was his second drink. Then again he didn’t eat much before leaving the house.

 

“Should I confess?”

 

Baekhyun eyed him in disbelief, “whoa, hey there, when I meant something I didn't mean that, I was hoping that you'll just go up to him and have a nice chat with him- hey, where are you going? Zitao? Tao!”

 

Zitao ignored his friend's frantic calls and headed straight to the drinks table, realising that he could gain confidence through intoxication. Not one of the best options but one that was convenient and suited to Zitao’s needs: to finally put a stop to Baekhyun’s nagging and to lessen the pain of potential rejection.

 

Potential my . Definitive sounds more realistic.

 

Zitao Huang, forever a pessimist.

 

Scanning over the various bottles of drinks available he eventually decided to go for the almost empty Smirnoff bottle, hoping that the extra shot of vodka would throw him over the tipsy side and into the pool of pure drunkenness.

 

By the time Baekhyun managed to squeeze past through the sea of people his friend had already downed the bottle's contents in one go – not that there was much in there left.

 

“What are you doing?!” the older one near shrieked as Zitao set the empty bottle down, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, “You’ll get drunk!”

 

“Exactly,” Zitao replied with a sheepish grin, already feeling buzzed. “Need it to make it easier for me to talk.”

 

He really didn’t know what he was doing.

 

The elder shook his head in dismay. He knew Zitao was a lightweight, a lightweight who would forget everything about the night before after getting faced. It happened multiple times during the first few weeks of their university life. Zitao would wake up the next day around noon groaning and hung-over, question Baekhyun what happened to him last night, what he done, did he commit any embarrassing deeds, where his wallet disappeared off to...

 

It was incredibly likely that a sober Zitao tomorrow would never remember confessing to Yifan that night in his drunken state.

 

What was the point? Zitao had clearly forgotten about that detail.

 

Later, Baekhyun watched as his friend stumble towards Yifan. Bumping into a couple of people along the way, earning a few hazy glares, some shoves in return but not that hard enough to send the boy falling, Thank God.

 

“Oh Zitao...”

 

* * * * *

 

Zitao found himself sprawled across floor in front of the door way in his flat the very next day. It was very likely that Baekhyun had dragged him home last night and just left him there, like every other time Zitao got himself wasted, as if to say getting real tired of your Zitao.

 

And, as always, there was a sick bucket next to him with his name all over it. Baekhyun wasn't a fan of cleaning puddles of vomit.

 

Zitao hurled just as Baekhyun turned the corner, on his way to the kitchen to make lunch. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressed the palms of his hands against his ears, and inhaled sharply before holding his breath.

 

Baekhyun just hated vomit in general.

 

 

“Baekhyun? What happened last night?” Zitao questioned about half an hour later.

 

The older one’s eyes remained fixed on the assignment on his laptop screen, “why?”

 

A topless Zitao took a tentative step into Baekhyun’s room, coughing lightly to catch the other’s attention, hiding his chest with one arm while the free hand rubbed on a side of the neck.

 

He was just about to take a shower a minute earlier when he pulled his shirt off in the bathroom and took a look into the mirror to find-

 

“Wow,” Baekhyun gaped at a large purple-ish bruise on the side of Zitao’s neck and collarbone, “what is that?”

 

“I don’t know!” Zitao rubbed agitatedly against the surface of the marks, “I was hoping that you would know!”

 

“You can’t expect me to watch over you throughout the entire night!”

 

“B-But, you brought me home! Where did you find me? Who was I with?”

 

“I didn’t bring you home! I couldn’t find you anywhere in that house. When I woke up this morning I found you lying there near the doorway.”

 

Zitao became even more panicked. He couldn’t have made it back home by himself; he was too drunk to do that. Clearly someone had brought him back knowing very well where he had lived, but the only person there who knew where he had lived was Baekhyun, his very own flatmate.

 

Oh God maybe it was a stalker.

 

The pitch in Zitao’s voice rose at the very thought of it, “Then who brought me home?!”

 

“I don’t know! Why are you asking me?” Baekhyun’s voice rose as well out of frustration, “I was in bed. How could I have seen who brought you back? Jesus Tao, use your brain!”

 

High pitched sounds of irritation rung throughout the entire flat seconds after.

 

* * * * *

 

Monday morning came around.

 

A 9am lecture awaited in a building on the opposite side of the campus – Zitao woke up at 8.45am.

Heavy showers poured relentlessly to welcome the start of a new week – Zitao ran with a piece of toast in his mouth (proper anime style) whilst his hair became matted to his face.

The lecturer decided to be an that morning and start the lecture at 8.55am – Zitao had to bear the brunt of walking up the aisle (stairs) of shame to an unoccupied seat in the lecture whilst everyone in the room silently judged him.

 

Zitao was a mess that Monday morning. He felt gross as he sat in his drenched attire whilst chewing on the last bit of soaking wet toast in his mouth. His cold toes wriggled in water-logged socks and converses, making squelching noises in the process. He shuddered.

 

£20 that I’ll catch a cold by tomorrow morning.

 

From the moment he woke up he changed into clothes that he had mentally pre-selected on the night before, hurriedly placed a slice of bread in the toaster – Zitao never misses out on breakfast, seized his bag and made a run for the lecture once his toast was done. He didn’t brush his teeth let alone look into the mirror before he left the flat.

 

He hoped no one would talk to him today so he wouldn’t have to respond and let out a pleasant fog of morning breath. Then again why would anyone want to talk to him in the current state that he was in? He was beyond intimidating; he looked murderous with his hair covering most of his eyes.

 

Then again there was that Greek God.

 

Please don’t let me bump into him today.

 

Knowing his luck, said Greek God would bump into him today for sure when he’s at his worst. It’s a given. It happens all the time in Korean dramas, Zitao reasons.

 

When the lecture had finished and Zitao was heading out of the building, from the corner of his eye he saw a tall lanky guy, with blonde hair, forest green jacket, loose white shirt, black skinny jeans and espadrilles walking towards him.

 

WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY.

 

“Morning,” Yifan flashed a smile that only sent Zitao’s already anxious heart into overdrive.

 

Zitao made an attempt to improve his dreadful appearance by pushing his wet bangs back, in which he could’ve sworn that he saw and heard Yifan gulp.

 

What.

 

He chose to ignore it – thinking it was a hallucination of some sort – and answered back with as miniscule as possible lip movements, trying to keep the morning breath contained. “M-Morning.”

 

“You’re okay now right? Sorry that I couldn’t text you all weekend to ask because I lost my phone on Saturday night and only managed to get it back this morning.”

 

The first line had Zitao mentally panicking and screaming. He was thoroughly convinced now that he had done something stupid at the party to earn him that bruise, and Yifan had witnessed it. Yifan knew, and Zitao didn’t.

The second line almost shocked him to know that Yifan was ready to initiate the first text message to him.

It was incredibly likely that he must’ve done something really stupid in front of Yifan to make him worry.

 

Well done me.

 

“Um, yeah, I’m fine. And uh, it’s okay..?” he could only reply meekly as his hand gripped the strap of his bag harder, inwardly wishing that a black hole would appear out of nowhere and him up.

 

Yifan flashed another one of his billion dollar smiles, “that’s good to know.”

 

Zitao swallowed and tugged at the collar of his jumper for ventilation.

 

The bruise was starting to fade but Zitao still opted to hide it underneath an itchy turtle neck jumper – courtesy of Baekhyun for Zitao never owned any as he generally despised them for their suffocating qualities. He became more conscious of it when Baekhyun suggested that, upon a closer look, it looked like a hickey, in which Zitao found absurd. Regardless, others may also think it’s a hickey, and he didn’t want any kind of attention – not that he already stirred enough earlier with his abrupt entrance into the lecture hall.

 

“Do you want to have lunch with me?”

 

Zitao almost experienced a heart attack.

 

Lunch with the Greek God.

 

Lunch and Greek God.

 

Zitao’s two favourite things in the world right now to be honest. Perfect combo.

 

This was too sudden, too good to be true. The Greek God wanted to have lunch with him. Him, an unattractive and anti-social peasant. Maybe he was dreaming. He was ready to slap himself awake until he realised how much of a nutter he would look like in front of Yifan.

 

What to do? What to do?

 

The thought of having lunch alone with Yifan was both wonderful and daunting. Wonderful in that he could possibly charm Yifan into liking him over lunch (yeah right, you can’t even charm a potato), and daunting in that he had no idea on how to act around Yifan whilst having lunch with him.

 

This is what happens when one is so socially awkward that the thought having lunch with people, who aren’t close friends but strangers, is foreign to their world.

­­

My heart would probably combust mid-way and my face would go kaplat on my lunch, sending tiny splatters of some kind of coloured sauce onto his clean white shirt, ruining it. Yifan would witness it right before his eyes and think I’m some kind of a freak, hate me and would never want to talk to me again. Because I’m a freak of nature and I ruined his perfect ing shirt.

 

“Zitao?”

 

“Oh um, sorry I got a lot of work to do.”  He lied.

 

Again Zitao hallucinated the disappointment on Yifan’s face.

 

“Oh, okay, then maybe next time?”

 

Oh God he really wants to have lunch with me, why am I given such amazing opportunities at such unexpected situations where my brain fails to function. The lord must be testing me.

 

He attempted to smile apologetically, hoping that it didn’t turn out to look creepy, “sure.”

 

 

15 minutes later Zitao sulked in his bed after having rolled around it multiple times, soaking the sheets with his still damp turtle neck. He was wallowing in regret for turning down the offer, lunch with Yifan didn’t sound too bad now that his brain was finally functioning properly at noon. All he would have to do is order food, eat, and talk with Yifan every now and again like a normal person and just not think too much about it.

 

At least there’s a next time.

 

Baekhyun passed the wide open door and shook his head in dismay at the sprawled damp lump upon the bed.

 

“You better return that back dried.”

 

* * * * *

 

Lunch with Yifan was like having lunch with Baekhyun. Only that the former had a slight air of awkwardness to it and Zitao’s heart refused to stop thumping louder and quicker than normal. He hoped Yifan couldn’t hear.

 

Yifan’s lunch offer was rejected once again on Tuesday and for the rest of the week, but this time for a legit reason: Zitao had a cold.

 

Where’s my £20?

 

So when the next Monday arrived where Zitao actually awoke in time to get ready for his 9am lecture, he gladly accepted Yifan’s lunch offer with a clearer head and fresher breath. As long as he felt great in the mornings he could overcome any obstacles during the rest of the day, even having lunch with Yifan.

 

Well he hoped that was the case.

 

In reality there was still a part of him that remained anxious.

 

He avoided ordering anything messy with sauces or liquids in them and opted for a ham and cheese panini, whilst Yifan ordered pasta.

 

He would be lying if he said that he was full from that tiny lunch, but he didn’t want to appear like a pig in front of Yifan, at least not yet, so he held back on dessert and settled for a hot cup of cappuccino. He wasn’t a bit surprised when it came tasting diluted and unsatisfying.

 

“Ah I forgot to tell you that the coffee here,” Yifan said after sipping his glass of orange juice, “I’ll pay for your meal as an apology.”

 

It was like as if Yifan was looking for trivial reasons to pay for Zitao’s meal, like they were on a date or something.

 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Zitao shook his head frantically as fingers curled tighter around the cup.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah,” he nodded with a small smile before forcing himself to take another sip of the God-awful cappuccino. Normally he would be able to hide expressions of distaste whenever he consumed something terrible, or attempt to convince himself that it wasn’t that bad. But this particular cup was a different story. It was on a whole new level of bad. Setting it down for good he decided to be a little bit daring, just a little bit. “On second thought, maybe you can pay for my Starbucks later as apology.”

 

Yifan sat contemplating for a few seconds before agreeing to it.

 

They left shortly after for the nearest Starbucks.

 

I swear to God this feels like a date, or maybe I’m just being delusional.

 

* * * * *

 

The ‘dates’ didn’t stop there.

 

Soon Zitao found himself eating lunch with Yifan almost every other day whenever they were both free.

He found it strange how Yifan would choose to eat with him over his own friends; he never invited any and they never complained. It was just them two all the time, not that Zitao minded too much. Although it would’ve been nice to focus on another person other than Yifan all the time, not that Zitao doesn’t want to focus on Yifan at all; it’s just that spending too much time with Yifan can be unhealthy for his anxious heart.

Regardless, it was still strange.

 

Perhaps it was the fastest way for Yifan to get to know Zitao better. Maybe Yifan really wanted to be close friends with Zitao, as abnormal as it may sound.

 

Zitao didn’t know whether he should fear that very prospect or not. He was kind of in love with the guy after all.

 

And to top it all off, Yifan texted more often, mainly around night time to ask what he’s doing and if he’s gone to sleep yet. Like a worried boyfriend. Zitao mentally berated himself whenever he thought that.

 

 

After a week, Yifan decided to expand their activities.

 

“Do you want to watch Looper with me this Saturday?”

 

Zitao let the piece of pasta fall from his fork, causing sauce to splatter when it hit the dish. He never noticed.

 

The Greek God was inviting him to a cinema date.

 

He would be sitting in a dark room next to Yifan for 2 hours, watching a sci-fi film where a guy is ordered to kill his future self – a film that he had already watched with Baekhyun a week ago (but shh don’t tell Yifan that), and perhaps sharing a bucket of popcorn – with the occasional brush of fingers when they both reach into it at the same time. He could feel his cheeks reddening at the very thought.

 

Zitao spoke without thinking

 

“Yeah sure.”

 

Later, he kicked himself mentally back in his room before raiding through his wardrobe to prepare an outfit for Saturday. It was Tuesday, but Zitao was the type of person who liked to plan early – especially when it came to Yifan. If he lacked clothes then it would serve as a perfect excuse to go clothes shopping.

 

Baekhyun hoped that Zitao did find an outfit in his wardrobe so that he doesn’t get forcefully dragged out for a full day’s worth of clothes shopping. Shopping with Zitao is an incredibly tiresome activity. Baekhyun learnt from experience.

 

“Really Zitao, a polo shirt and jeans would suffice.” Baekhyun commented as he passed the doorway on Saturday whilst Zitao – in a leopard print hoodie and ripped black jeans – hastily tried to get his converses on.

 

Zitao fumbled with the laces, “Oh shut up.”

 

“You’re just going to watch a movie with him.”

 

“Presentation matters tramphyun!”

 

The door to the flat then slammed shut before Baekhyun could remind Zitao that his 10 years old shirt with the teenage mutant ninja turtles on it was still in great condition, save for the fading graphic prints on its surface.

 

 

In the cinema Zitao found himself sharing an extra-large bucket of popcorn with Yifan, as predicted, because, you know, students need to save money. They could’ve taken the frugality even further but the pound store was on the opposite end of town, and it was raining, again.

 

The minute touch of fingers in the popcorn bucket never happened. But Zitao did feel the occasional gaze from Yifan’s end.

 

Keep quiet heart. Zitao shoved more popcorn into his mouth.

 

He swore he heard Yifan sigh with clear disappointment when the credits rolled and cinema lights brightened.

 

“Film didn’t meet your expectations?” Zitao tentatively questioned when they were heading out of the cinema.

 

Yifan gave a small smile before grabbing the near empty popcorn bucket from Zitao’s hands, “I guess my expectations were too high.” He then proceeded to tip his head back, tilting the bucket so that the remaining bits of popcorn fell into his mouth, not a piece wasted.

 

The younger couldn’t help but stare.

 

 

Before Winter fully arrived they visited Thorpe Park on a weekday – when it was devoid of long queues of annoying teenagers. The weather was getting a tad chilly and for once it didn’t rain despite the dark grey clouds that loomed over the park throughout the day.

 

When invited the week before, Zitao questioned if others were coming also since people normally visit amusement parks in groups. However, Yifan said that everyone else was busy, and he really wanted to visit the amusement park when there were no crowds and 2 hour long lines.

 

Zitao began to wonder if he seriously was the only person Yifan knew who was free whenever he was free himself. Surely Yifan would have a plethora of friends – thanks to his good looks and seemingly chill and outgoing personality (oh how clichéd), to invite as well.

Unless Yifan noticed Zitao’s shyness with strangers hence why he didn’t invite anyone else, but that would be crazy. His anxieties can’t be that transparent. Sure he was kind of an introvert but it didn’t mean that he hated interaction with other people. He just didn’t know how to approach and hold conversation with others; he feared the feeling of awkwardness.

 

Which makes him question once again, the ultimate conundrum: how did they become friends?

 

They went from petty acquaintances to somewhat close friends within weeks. Zitao suspected that something must’ve happened in that house party, either he done something out of the ordinary or something else happened. He still needed to hunt down the details of that night. What happened and who brought him back home.

 

Then again, what could have happened on the night to make Yifan interested in befriending Zitao? Even if he was drunk out of his mind he doubted that he could’ve done something outstanding really. Maybe fall over and giggle a lot, but that’s it. It’s not like he would interact properly a lot either since Baekhyun had told him once that he would either speak gibberish or Mandarin whilst drunk, the former occurred more often.

 

Plus, why would Yifan continue on being his friend. He was boring. A majority of their conversations were either initiated by Yifan, or consisted of silence and the odd eye contact here and there. Surely more extroverted people would opt to mingle with their own kind since it’s a lot easier than having to understand the ways of an introvert. Perhaps Yifan was different. Perhaps Zitao intrigued him like how quiet studious book worms would attract loud and outgoing hotties, well in the realms fiction.

 

But I don’t even like reading.

 

Regardless, Zitao still found it all too bizarre.

 

Maybe, just maybe, he likes me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nah.

 

An unsolved mystery….

 

 

As expected, Thorpe Park was near empty, with the occasional adult. Lines were short and almost instant. Just the way the both of them liked it. They both learnt within seconds upon entering the park that they were enthusiasts of extreme rides.

 

“Stealth?” Zitao eagerly suggested like an excited child, his heart racing from adrenaline and excitement for once rather than it being induced from Yifan’s presence.

 

Yifan nodded enthusiastically before they both dashed for the largest and steepest roller coaster in the vicinity.

 

 

Hours later, upon unboarding the Tidal Wave ride Zitao was unable to tear his eyes away from Yifan for three reasons.

 

Wet and ily pushed back hair.

 

Tiny trails of water trickling down the neck and further.

 

Soaked white button up dress shirt that clung onto his skin and defined hidden toned muscles.

 

When Yifan turned to face him he almost tripped mid-walk.

 

“Cold?”

 

Zitao hadn’t noticed that his teeth were chattering until Yifan handed him the red jumper that he had left at the ride’s shelving area to keep it dry. Smart idea but Zitao seriously suspected that Yifan had deliberately chosen to wear a white top that day especially for that ride.

 

You’re overthinking things again.

 

Zitao wasn’t complaining.

 

“Thanks,” he took it gratefully, stripping his wet hooded jacket off himself in which Yifan offered to hold it for him for the rest of the day. He made a mental note to take it off him again once it was completely dry, though he doubted that it would happen anytime soon with current season and almost chilly temperatures.

 

Yifan’s jumper felt warm and comfortable against his skin. He remembered Yifan bought it perhaps just a week ago when he invited Zitao for an impromptu shopping trip. The elder paid no attention to it until Zitao pointed out that it was made of cashmere and that it would look great on him.

 

Anything would look great on Yifan really.

 

It had smelt of Giorgio Armani cologne.

 

Yifan’s scent.

 

Okay this is getting creepy. Stop.

 

 

“Hot mocha?” Yifan later offered the hot beverage to him around closing time, “With whipped cream on top. Not as great as Starbucks but far better than that café that we usually go to for lunch.”

 

Zitao accepted it gratefully, sipping into it whilst thinking how much of a perfect boyfriend Yifan would make since the elder remembered that he likes mochas with whipped cream the most on cold evenings.

 

Wait, I don’t remember telling him stuff like that.

 

 

Whilst taking a train back home, Zitao noticed that Yifan’s hand was dangerously close to his.

 

Sat next to each other with their hands on their thighs which were almost touching, the younger kept glancing at the other’s hand. Sometimes the pinky finger would move up and to the side a bit towards Zitao’s before retracting again. Other times a lone finger would tap against the surface of fine pressed jeans, as if done out of restlessness. A couple of times he would see the entire hand hover up for a bit before balling into second-long fists to then stretch itself out against the jeans again, rubbing against it momentarily when it landed.

 

It looked like Yifan wanted to touch his hand, grab it and keep their fingers locked for the rest of the evening.

 

Totally not ready for that.

 

And of course, a large portion of Zitao’s mind was scolding at him once again for such wishful thinking.

 

Maybe he’s secretly scared of…trains..?

 

An awful theory really because Yifan looked just fine earlier on the day when they both travelled to the park.

 

Maybe he’s thinking about something…troubling.

 

 

Zitao was overanalysing Yifan’s behaviour once again outside his front door.

 

Remembering that he was still wearing Yifan’s jumper he quickly pulled it off him, dragging the bottom of his shirt upwards as he did so, letting the cold autumn air waft over his bare skin.

 

He shuddered.

 

Yifan inhaled sharply.

 

Dear ears, stop playing tricks on me.

 

Upon handing him back his jumper with a small thank you he waited for Yifan to return his jacket. All he got in return was silence and a pair of eyes staring at him.

 

Yifan’s brows furrowed with uncertainty and lips pressed into a thin line before he leaned in.

 

Zitao’s heart thundered at the close proximity, he recoiled slightly in response as he watched as Yifan circle his arms around him, his breath hot against the skin on his forehead.

 

Kill me now.

 

There was a momentary pause in Yifan’s action, and then a sigh followed.

 

He felt his jacket land against his shoulders. Long fingers ran along the edge of the hood and came to a halt at the top of the zip lines. Zitao felt a tug and stumbled towards Yifan before stopping himself with his hands against the other’s chest.

 

There was a pulse behind Yifan’s shirt, strong and throbbing.

 

Zitao’s eyes grew wide.

 

No way.

 

He then looked back up at Yifan.

 

The intensity of the taller man’s eyes made his heart hammer uncontrollably; soon he found it hard to breathe as he started to forget how to.

 

The tense look on Yifan’s face disappeared and became more relaxed. A weak smile crept onto his face as he took a step back; taking his hands off the jacket after tugging the two sides together, “don’t catch a cold again okay?”

 

And with that he left.

 

A flustered Zitao could finally breathe again.

 

I should deserve a trophy for being able to survive this long.

 

 

---

OH HEY LOOK PART ONE OF MY 'ONESHOT'

//really wanted to post this entire fic up in time for Christmas as a gift but someone up there didn't want that happening because Ratatouille was on TV and I stumbled upon Pitch Perfect online asbgsnvldz;

I have 1 page of part two typed, hoping to post that up before New Years and research essay deadline come. Will also attempt to update my Kaisoo fic as well.

But um, yeah.

Had xlouiisee check half of this part for me, so excuse the crappiness in the latter half heu - 3-

Anyway.

MERRY KRISMAS GUYS. ILY.

WOW HOW IS IT 5.25AM IN ENGLAND ALREADY BRSWNFLKDMZ;,C