“Do you think he was about to-” Zitao gulped, “kiss me?”

 

A couple of keyboard taps later, “probably.”

 

“Be serious Baekhyun.”

 

“I am being serious.”

 

“But why would he?”

 

“You said you felt Yifan’s ‘racing heartbeat’.” Fingers left the keyboard surface momentarily to emphasise the quote.

 

Zitao chewed on his lower lip, mentally questioning upon the reality of it all for perhaps the hundredth time, “I- I could’ve imagined it.”

 

Baekhyun rolled his eyes.

 

“Ok then, he wasn’t going to kiss you. It was all in your head.”

 

“But I swear it wasn’t.” The pillow – Baekhyun’s pillow – that Zitao was hugging onto all this time squeezed under his arms at that very claim, “It all felt so…real.”

 

The older of the two sighed for the nth time that afternoon before silently returning to his assignment (which was due in for the next day), not bothering to answer to Zitao’s indecisiveness. He had hoped that his flatmate would finally get the message that he was busy and would promptly leave the room soon.

 

But alas no. Instead Zitao buried his head deeper into Baekhyun’s pillow before letting out a muffled groan.

 

Baekhyun felt like groaning himself.

 

The elder had been listening to Zitao’s Yifan problems for the past hour, problems that had stemmed from the day before, or more particularly the night before, where Zitao became mildly confused over the Greek God’s strange behaviour.

 

 

He offered me his freaking jumper and held my wet jacket for me all day.

What kind of friend would do that? Even you wouldn’t do that!

 

He must be some kind of mind reader because he bought me mocha with whipped cream on top!

Whipped cream!

Mocha!

On a cold evening!

How does he even know? I never told him. I swear!

 

Oh and on the train he kept making these- weird hand movements like he wanted to hold my hand.

 

And- and he pulled me by the collar of my jacket outside our door really suddenly, and – holy crap he smelt nice – literally looked at me in the eyes like some animal on heat-

 

Hey don’t look at me like that.

 

-I stumbled, my hands landed on his chest, and sweet Jesus did his chest feel toned! But um, I definitely felt a really fast and hard pulse underneath that shirt, like, he was anxious too, and I don’t know why..?

Maybe he secretly likes me too or did I just dream all of that?

 

ing hell Baekhyun pinch me!

 

OW!

 

I didn’t mean literally!

 

 

Both males inwardly wished that yesterday’s events didn’t happen for different reasons.

 

Zitao blew at his overgrown bangs after having rolled himself upon Baekhyun’s bed a good couple of times, “How was I able to survive this long?”

 

Because surely a frequently anxious and rapidly pounding heart couldn’t be good for anyone’s health.

 

Baekhyun shrugged, “beats me.”

 

“If you find me dead one day tell Yifan that it’s all his fault for being so damn perfect. Oh and bury my dead body along with my stuff because no you cannot have them.”

 

Baekhyun chose to ignore the last statement purely because he would’ve never wanted any of Zitao’s stuff in the first place. Leopard print wasn’t his thing. Then again, he could sell them to make profit. Surely there must be a leopard print enthusiast loitering around eBay somewhere…

 

“Even if you got run over by a stranger?”

 

“Even if I did get run over by a stranger.”

 

“You’re crazy.”

 

“Everyone’s a little bit crazy.”

 

The elder shook his head in dismay before returning his attention to the laptop screen, “hopeless.”

 

The short silence that followed signified Zitao’s agreement before he flopped himself down against the bed again in defeat. Letting small moans and groans escape from thoroughly chewed plump lips.

 

Baekhyun mentally contemplated on eBay-ing for ear plugs.

 

It was futile to get proper advice from Baekhyun right now. Zitao knew, but he still needed someone there to voice his troubles to. He was partially glad that Baekhyun didn’t push him out of the room from the moment he took one step into it, but had instead asked: ‘what is it?’ even though his eyes were still glued to the laptop screen the entire time. It meant that Baekhyun was willing to listen at the very least, but too absorbed in his work to give proper answers unfortunately.

 

Just as Zitao was about to roll himself off the bed and finally leave the room, Baekhyun stretched and yawned, causing his shirt to rise and reveal–

 

“Did you go out last night?” Zitao sat up slowly; eyes trained at the few small patches of red that peppered along Baekhyun’s hip bone, “What happened?”

 

Hurriedly, Baekhyun pulled his shirt down, red beginning to tint his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He stuttered, “N-Nothing. It’s nothing really. Just- Just bed bug bites. Nothing serious.”

 

The younger’s eyes squinted in suspicion.

 

“Can you just leave me alone to do my work?!”

 

Zitao silently complied, dropping the pillow to the side before slowly making his way to the door, still staring down at the flustered flatmate questionably.

 

“No really Baekhyun, what-”

 

“I already told you it’s nothing to worry about!”

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

For next couple of days Zitao rejected Yifan’s invitations to hang out, using excuses such as having already made plans with his flatmate, a Skype date with his family in China, and needing time to revise for exams.

All were lies apart from the latter to some degree. Yes he had upcoming exams to revise for, but they didn’t happen until mid-January – which was over a month away.

 

During the times he could’ve spent out and about with the heartthrob, Zitao moped in his room in solitude (Baekhyun learnt how to lock his door whenever Zitao was in the flat). Sometimes he would attempt to revise like he had claimed to do but failed from the moment he looked his notes.

Like a true student.

 

The main reason why he was avoiding Yifan in the first place was because he was scared, anxious, and confused.

 

If only he hadn’t felt that heartbeat he wouldn’t have felt so conflicted.

 

No matter how many times he told himself to ignore it he couldn’t. That abnormally fast pulse had to have meant something along the lines of Yifan being anxious – anxious in Zitao’s presence. But why? What could’ve made his heart throb like that? What could’ve made Yifan stare at Zitao so intently?

The possibility of Yifan liking him sounded absurd and far too surreal.

 

Maybe he’s a rookie assassin out to kill me as his first job and his heart raced purely from adrenaline at the thought of making his first kill.

 

Zitao mentally slapped himself.

 

The possibilities were, in fact, endless.

Zitao acknowledged this.

 

It was possible that Yifan liked him, but Zitao didn’t want to take the risk in believing that in case of future heartbreak. He just simply didn’t want to get his hopes up.

 

If only he could mind-read…

 

Even if he were to continue hanging out with Yifan he wouldn’t know how to act normally around him. He would continue to overanalyse Yifan’s actions and consequentially start to behave weirdly around him. Potentially screwing up their friendship.

 

Staying away from Yifan for the time being was an investment, Zitao believed. Having alone time would allow him some thinking space to get his mind straight about the object of his affections, to calm himself down and to slowly forget about that throbbing pulse.

He might even be able to laugh at his stupidity for overthinking all of this one day in near future, or so he had hoped.

 

 

Yifan’s invitations eventually ceased along with the texts and phone calls. Zitao hadn’t seen Yifan since the last excuse he made.

 

They never had lectures together, but Zitao knew Yifan had a lecture in the room that was opposite his on Monday mornings, and a couple of other times they would have them on the same floor. They would always bump into each other somehow on those days. Though most of the time it seemed that Yifan had either actively looked for him or saw him first.

 

In sum, the communication and meetings between them stopped.

 

It hurt Zitao a little bit, even though it was exactly what he wanted.

 

It’s okay Zitao. He’s just being thoughtful by leaving you to revise in peace.

 

 

Almost two weeks later, since the start of Zitao’s Yifan-less life, upon stepping out of a Starbucks he saw the six foot two blonde once again in town, accompanied with another curly haired giant – probably one of Yifan’s friends that he hadn’t met yet.

 

Fortunately for Zitao, Yifan didn’t see him.

Both parties were on opposite sides of the road, and the two giants seemed far too engrossed over the flower stall to pay any attention to their surroundings – namely the dark haired boy staring at them from across the road.

 

The friend appeared to be chatting animatedly about the bouquets of roses that pretty much dominated the stall, his locks bouncing whenever he whipped his head back and forth between looking at Yifan and the roses. 

Yifan’s brows were furrowed, clearly vexed by the wide variety of bouquets as his eyes darted to and from each one that his friend pointed to.

 

Zitao hadn’t realised that he remained frozen on the spot in front of Starbucks’ doorway until someone shoved past him from behind, angrily reprimanding him for standing in the way. The gesture almost knocked the cup out of Zitao’s hands.

He murmured a quiet and belated apology when the stranger was out of hearing distance, moving himself away from the doorway before another customer came to scold him for getting in their way.

 

Looking back across the road, Yifan and his friend were now talking to the stall owner. A bouquet of pink roses held in Yifan’s hands. 

 

Zitao bit down on the straw to his Frappuccino before turning on his feet to hastily make his way back to the flat.

Chewing on the plastic as more unnecessary thoughts flooded into his mind.

 

 

“I think Yifan likes someone else,” a fingernail scratched against the surface of Baekhyun’s door while a half-drunk Starbucks Frappuccino sat on the kitchen counter, abandoned. Zitao had never left a venti cup of Starbucks unfinished before. And neither had he ever felt so sick. “I saw him buying roses.”

 

There was no reply from behind the door, only the muffled sound of heavy keyboard tapping.

 

“Pink roses.” He further elaborated, hoping to catch Baekhyun’s attention, “you know, the ones that mean ‘I love you’.”

 

“Only red roses say that. Pink means admiration.”

 

Zitao flicked the door, pouting, “Still, roses.”

 

Baekhyun’s silent response returned.

 

Zitao’s lower lip jutted out even further, “I feel sick-”

 

“Please don’t do it right in front of my door.”

 

“Really sick-”

 

“You’re only a couple of steps away from the toilet Zitao, use it.”

 

“I think Yifan forgot about me because I avoided him. Maybe he thinks I’m annoying. Maybe he’s bored of me. Maybe that’s why he’s now hanging out with some tall lanky guy with a stupid smile on his face and a twitch in his eye.”

 

Suddenly, light thumping footsteps replaced the sound of muffled keyboard tapping from the other side. The door unclicked before it swung open to reveal a dishevelled and tired looking Baekhyun, who stunk of nothing but cheap coffee. The elder had been holing himself in his room for days after being given more assignments to complete with insanely short deadlines.

 

Zitao wrinkled his nose in distaste. He was tempted to pinch his nose to block the pungent smell, but it could have potentially earned him a punch to the stomach by an offended flatmate.

 

“What?”

 

“Er, well, Yifan was buying roses with some other guy-”

 

“Describe the other guy for me.”

 

“H-he had auburn hair – it looked really frizzy so he should really get some serum for that. Wore a really cheap plain white shirt that probably came from Primark and tacky cropped camo pants-”

 

The surface of the door met Zitao’s face again as Baekhyun stormed back into his room to do God knows what.

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas Eve Eve.

 

Zitao was busy packing for his trip back home for the holidays when he received a text.

A text from Yifan.

The message ID almost made him drop his phone.

 

Underground Bar, 8pm.

 

Zitao had every right to ignore that message, feeling half angry at Yifan for not contacting him for so long to then suddenly tell him to meet him without saying anything else.

Yifan couldn’t have been that dense to think that he should completely avoid talking to Zitao to not disturb his revision. Normally friends would perhaps send a ‘how’s revision going?’ text at the very least.

 

Ever since that day outside Starbucks, the amount of times he had seen Yifan hanging around with his other friend had been frequent. From afar he would see a bouncing set of frizzy curls accompanied with slick blonde hair wandering around campus during lunch time. It wasn’t hard to notice when the two of them were perhaps one of the tallest guys on campus.

One time he almost walked into the same small Starbucks store as them before promptly taking a sharp U-turn.

 

It was as if Yifan had replaced him for another guy.

As if Zitao was some sort of a temporary friend. Disposable. Replaceable.

 

At one point he suspected that Yifan may have sent the message to him wrongly. Perhaps it was meant for that other friend, the other lanky giant.

But surely, after an hour when Zitao hadn’t replied whilst waiting for Yifan’s apology text – upon realising that he had sent it to the wrong person; the message was meant for him.

 

After having cautiously typed a lone “k” in the message box, to then hover a hesitant thumb over the send button before finally tapping it, Zitao received confirmation in the form of a smiley face that the text was definitely sent to the correct person.

 

He found himself smiling dumbly at the seemingly cute colon and closed bracket, completely forgetting about his anger towards its sender earlier.

 

You are so easily influenced.

 

Slipping on his favourite leopard print hoodie and fur trimmed coat – enough layers to brave the chilly weather, he left the door at 7.50pm. Even though the bar was 5 minutes away.

 

 

When he arrived, the bar was empty, which was bizarre since it was a Saturday night. Usually the place would be filled with boisterous people preparing for a night out, drinking pints after pints of beer, chatting away leisurely in large groups, allowing minimal space for people to walk through.

The dim lights were still on yet the bartender and workers weren’t present.

 

Weird.

 

As he carried on walking further he noticed a small table ahead covered with a white table cloth, cutlery laid out neatly on the top, and a small thin glass vase in the middle holding a lone daffodil. He then noticed that the surrounding tables had fairy lights on them, all alight with small flickering flames on the tip of the wick.

 

The air smelt of mouth-watering steak.

 

Oh God what is this.

 

The door to the kitchen opened, startling Zitao. Yifan appeared from behind it grinning with a black forest gateaux cake in his hands, the surface covered with strawberries that were dusted over with flakes of chocolate.

 

Zitao’s favourite.

 

Maybe this was an apology cake.

 

Yifan continued to beam, as if the two of them had planned all of this yesterday and/or had been on talking terms for the past 3 weeks.

 

“Happy 50^th day anniversary.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What.

 

Zitao’s brain was unable to process the relevance of that phrase.

It was foreign to his knowledge.

 

“Wh-What?” he managed to stutter out after moments of silence. His eyes flickered between the cake and Yifan, mildly puzzled.

 

Yifan blinked in return, brows beginning to furrow just as much as Zitao’s, “It’s our 50^th day together,” his voice reached to pitiful levels of pure dejection, “as a couple.”

 

Couple.

 

Couple.

 

Zitao didn’t know what to be more shocked at: the sudden claim that him and Yifan were actually an item – a mothering item, or the supposed fact that they had been a couple for 50 days without his knowledge.

 

Did I miss something here?

Since when were we dating?

My life is a lie.

 

He had never felt so confused in his entire life.

 

“What.”

 

Zitao was in for a chronic case of the what’s for the next hour.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Things were getting pretty heated in the closet. Fuelled by alcohol and bottled up lust; lips and teeth clashed messily with each other, crotches grinded instinctively with the occasional addition of thigh, and hands wandered boldly across surfaces of hot skin.

 

It was only a minute ago when a fairly buzzed Yifan was approached by a fairly drunk Zitao. The younger eliciting a string of incoherent blabber before the elder blurted out his secret attraction for the raven haired boy.

 

I like you, can we- we should go out.

 

A sober and clear headed Yifan would’ve experienced immense difficulty communicating such words.

 

Zitao responded with a goofy smile, half-lidded eyes, and a simple nod.

 

For a moment there Yifan thought he saw flowers bloom around the edges of his vision. He took a second to ponder whether someone laced his drink with LSD or not.

 

Not too fussed over whether Zitao shared mutual feelings or not, because he was buzzed, he took the response as a tentative and temporary reply before promptly dragging him to an unoccupied closet to physically show him how much he liked him.

Perhaps not the best way to start their relationship and most definitely not something a sober Yifan would do, but Zitao looked irresistible that night in nothing but a black tank top, skinny jeans and leopard print hi-tops – sassy. Plus when their lips met it wasn’t him who initiated it but the younger.

 

Just when Yifan was about lay another hickey on the exposed collarbone Zitao lost his footing and fell back, hitting his head against the wall before falling unconscious. It was nothing to be worried about, because a minute later, after a panic-stricken Yifan attempted to leave the closet in search for help, he heard Zitao snore.

 

Remembering where Zitao had lived – because he ‘followed’ him once out of ‘boredom’, Yifan decided to take him home.

 

 

Yifan Wu liked how everything was going, how everything was falling into place, and how the world seemed to side with him for once.

 

He was beginning to think that their feelings may even be mutual that evening when he was making his way back home after dropping Zitao off at his flat, wearing a sheepish grin on his face. Though he was slightly conflicted on whether he should have left Zitao lying on the floor at the doorway or not seeing as he had no idea which room the younger was rooming in. He hoped his flatmate would drag him back to bed for him in the morning.

Getting back to the point, he was glad to have confessed and been given the chance to date his crush of almost one month.

 

 

Unfortunately Yifan’s expectations were too damn high.

 

Maybe their feelings weren’t in fact mutual.

 

Maybe his feelings were in fact one-sided.

 

Zitao didn’t seem to remember what happened on the Monday after, or maybe he did and wanted to forget because people do commit stupid acts when they’re pretty smashed. Assuming that Zitao wanted to forget and start afresh, Yifan decided to take it slow. Do everything the sober Yifan way. Get Zitao to like him one step at a time.

 

Only problem was that Yifan didn’t know how to.

 

On the outside, appearance-wise, Yifan looked experienced in the realms of relationships. However in reality all of his past ex’s left him because he seemed distant and uncaring, as if he didn’t even try to make the relationship work.

 

He didn’t know how to attract people with his personality, he could only attract with looks.

He was uncomfortable with showing affection, love and care. Although he knew it was the norm amongst couples to casually hold hands, hug and kiss, he couldn’t bring himself to do it without feeling incredibly embarrassed, shy and awkward. He just simply wasn’t used to it.

Additionally he cared too much on what Zitao would think of him. Would it be creepy of him to hug Zitao after their first date? When was the right time to hold hands? How would he know when Zitao’s ready for skinship? Was Zitao expecting skinship from him in the first place?

After all, Zitao never did admit that he liked Yifan too. So for now, Yifan’s love was one-sided.

 

Regardless, he had to try to make this work, because he really liked Zitao.

 

His hands were clammy that Monday morning, completely nervous over asking Zitao out for lunch. They became even clammier when Zitao pushed his hair back; Yifan instinctively gulped. 

When the question slipped, dreaded silence followed. He almost gave up when Zitao rejected the invitation, but he persisted and eventually landed himself a lunch date with Zitao the following Monday.

 

He gave himself a pat on the back.

 

Purposely picking a restaurant serving perhaps the worst coffee ever, because he knew Zitao was a coffee fanatic after seeing him drinking from a Starbucks cup around campus frequently, he used it as an opportunity to extend their date, and to try displaying care.

 

Lunch dates with Zitao became frequent, but there was a lack of momentum.

He needed to pick up the pace before things got boring.

Before Zitao lost interest.

 

Perhaps he was a tad deluded, but a cinema date sounded like it could possibly reignite the flame that they had back at the house party. Probably not the same flame of course, but a more subtle one.

Maybe he could ‘accidentally’ touch Zitao’s hand in the popcorn bucket to then lace their fingers together within it, as corny and clichéd as it may sound. Or maybe Zitao would initiate it.

Something was bound to happen at the cinema.

 

But in reality, nothing did.

 

It left him frustrated and mildly disappointed.

 

I guess my expectations were too high. He said, before proceeding to drown his miseries with popcorn.

 

 

He had the Thorpe Park trip all planned out weeks later. It was his ultimate plan.

 

Intentionally wearing the cashmere jumper that Zitao indirectly picked out for him to show that he was attentive, and a white shirt to make him look all the more irresistibly attractive after taking a ride on the Tidal Wave. Both seemed to have worked.

He caught Zitao subtly inhaling the fabric of his jumper from the corner of his eyes and tried his best not to grin foolishly in response.

 

Totally overlooking the fact that they were both creeps.

 

When the chilly night air came he was instantly reminded to get Zitao a hot mocha with whipped cream on top, because Zitao always had it in their recent evening outings as the season turned colder.

 

He tried his best to summon up the courage to take Zitao’s hand on the train later, thinking that the kind gestures earlier would’ve granted him enough reasons to take everything to the next level.

Nevertheless, he chickened out. Because an elderly couple from the other side of the train was staring at them intently, as if they were watching a drama unfold before their very eyes.

 

It is now or never, Yifan told himself upon seeing a flash of Zitao’s skin whilst he pulled the jumper off at the door of his flat. It’s like he’s inviting me.

 

With his heart pounding loudly against the ribcage, he went for it. Pulling Zitao up towards him with the hoodie grappled tightly in his fingers, imagining it all as some super romantic scene from some romcom movie, he moved in for the kill.

 

But then he saw Zitao’s eyes, wide and bewildered.

 

Maybe Zitao wasn’t ready for this.

 

Maybe it was too soon.

 

And so ultimately, Yifan held back once again.

 

 

Yifan tried his best not to look hurt when Zitao excused himself from future dates just days after.

There was a part of him that suspected that they were all lies just so Zitao could avoid a creep like Yifan – a dire consequence of being impatient. But another part of him wanted to believe that Zitao had been truthful in that he already had plans with his flatmate, family from China, and a date with his revision notes.

 

And so he decided to give Zitao some space, wary of the possibility that his presence was too suffocating, clingy, and annoying.

 

He didn’t want to lose Zitao.

 

Zitao was too precious for him to lose.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Zitao looked down at his hands in his seat, feeling embarrassed and incredibly flustered, unable to think straight. His heart was going a mile a minute whilst he tried his best not to grin widely like an idiot for the Greek God had actually liked him also.

 

I don’t want this dream to end.

 

He gave himself a small pinch on the arm to then wince from the pain.

 

“Well you see,” he started slowly, rubbing his arm as discretely as possible, “when I get drunk I tend to forget everything that happened the night before.”

 

There was a moment of silence before Yifan bursted out laughing. It was beautiful really. Zitao missed Yifan’s beautiful laughs.

 

“So all this time you thought we were just hanging out? As friends?”

 

Zitao nodded dumbly.

 

Yifan laughed again, his voice softening at the realisation as he wiped an imaginary tear away, “so I spent an entire week looking for real daffodils for nothing.” He pulled at one of the petals of said flower, “of course I found none. Daffodils don’t bloom during the winter. I had to settle for this fake one in hopes that you didn’t realise, but hey it looks pretty realistic doesn’t it?”

 

Zitao watched Yifan poke the flower around in the vase like a child.

 

“Why daffodils?”

 

The daffodil was then plucked from the vase with long fingers before it was presented towards him.

 

“They symbolise something along the lines of hey, love me back would ya? Return my affection.” The daffodil spun in between Yifan’s fingers, “well since you now know that I like you-” he took a moment to swallow the anxiety, “the meaning is still valid.”

 

Zitao didn’t hesitate to accept the lone flower; the act earned him one of Yifan’s signature gummy smiles.

 

“How long have you liked me for?” Zitao smiled down at the yellow petals, feeling his cheeks warm slowly.

 

“Since orientation day.”

 

It must be fate.

 

The smile on Zitao’s lips grew wider, he had a feeling that his cheeks would hurt from all this smiling tomorrow, “Same.”

 

 

He unknowingly dated Yifan for 50 days.

 

They harboured feelings towards each other for 100 days.

 

 

“Er- the steak’s getting cold.” Yifan nodded at the now fairly lukewarm pieces of meat on their plates.

 

“Yeah…”

 

 

And so begins their awkward but mutual relationship.

 

 

 

 

---

GUYS.

HEY.

GUYSSSSS.

IT'S NOT DONE YET.

THERE'S MORE.

I STILL HAVE 3/4 OF AN EPILOGUE (?) TO WRITE.

WHICH THEN LINKS ONTO MY NEXT ONESHOT.

COOKIES TO YOU IF YOU GUESS THE MAIN PAIRING CORRECTLY.

AND I NEED TO DOUBLE CHECK THIS CHAPTER FOR GRAMMAR AND SPELLING ERRORS STILL TBH.

BUT I HAD MY FRIEND CHECK IT FOR ME AND HE FOUND NO PROBLEMS.

SO

I'LL LEAVE THIS UP AND EDIT IT TOMORROW

HAH.