For it being midday, close to lunch time in an average work week, Starbucks is oddly empty. There are a few students cooped up at tables, books scattered around and focused on bright laptop screens. There’s a man and a woman sharing a booth, probably coworkers from their pressed shirts and pants. And then there’s Yixing, squished in the seat wedged between the back wall and the window.

He fiddles with his phone, connecting to the free wifi. As soon as he accesses the internet, his phone lights up with notifications. He taps on the envelop icon on his home screen and scrolls through his inbox for his flight itinerary. He has already done what he could with his limited power; now it’s up to his cousin to beat the odds against him. Yixing didn’t originally come here to help but no matter how much Han is struggling to make ends meet, Yixing can tell he’s genuinely happy and he can’t take that away from him.

He’s worried it’s too late though. Because even if Han figures out his family knows, he can’t afford to relocate. Yixing wouldn't be able to transfer over the money he would need to do so without alerting his Uncle, Han's father, that something was up and who knows if Han would even take it.

“And he might be too loyal to help,” Yixing sighs to himself, thinking of the only person who could free Han.

Pushing his phone to the side, Yixing reaches into the tan messenger bag at his side and pulls out the novel he’s been reading. It’ll be a while before his ‘date’ arrives -- if he even comes at all, that is.

Nearly half an hour later, Yixing looks up from his book when a cup slides on to his table and the chair across from him is pulled back with a light screech against the tiled flooring of the cafe. His eyes settle on thick, strained brows and firmly pressed lips not quite shaped into a frown. “You’re as happy as ever this afternoon,” he says lightly, fitting the cute penguin shaped bookmark between the pages and closing his book.

Yifan sighs and rolls up the sleeves of his pressed white button-up to the bend of his elbows. He takes his styrofoam cup of espresso in hand and sips at it briefly, swiping his tongue over his lips as he replaces it on the table. Leaning back as far as he can in the frame of his seat, he crosses his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

Admiring the shape of Yifan’s arms, Yixing answers lazily, “Vacation. You don't make the trip to Beijing as often anymore. I missed you.” He meets Yifan’s hard gaze and smiles sweetly, all teeth and rounded cheeks.

“You’re not supposed to be in Korea. Stop bullting, Yixing.”

Smile dropping into a frown, Yixing turns his book over in his hands. For some reason the buzzing chatter of the coffee shop dims in his ears and he’s suddenly hyperaware of the way he sounds as he exhales a sigh. “I’m not.” He places the book in his lap. “But either way, that’s not what I called you here to talk about.”

Yifan looks like he has something to say, left eyebrow twitching, but Yixing continues.

“I told Han about his father,” he reveals, averting his attention to the counter where one barista flutters about preparing coffee. “I didn’t tell him any of the specifics but at the very least he’s aware his father hasn’t given up on him.” When he faces his partner once more, Yifan is glaring at him with enough heat to set the air between them on fire.

“You did what?” Yifan clenches his fists hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

Yixing wants to take his hand and uncurl his fingers but that will only result in a bigger fight on an entirely different topic. This is already going in the opposite direction he was hoping for. “He deserves to know. Do you not see how ed up this entire thing is?”

“I have a job to do. We have a job to do, Yixing.”

“Oh, really,” Yixing mocks. “Then why haven’t you reported to Uncle that you found him? It’s been…two years now? What are you waiting for?”

Yifan’s anger recedes slightly at his words, his fingers unfurling. He clasps his hands together and then just as quickly separates them. With a sigh, he breaks eye contact with Yixing. “I wanted to let him have some time to himself.”

“So you realize that Han deserves to have his freedom but for some reason it’s okay if it’s only temporary?” Yixing quickly returns.

“You don’t know how much I owe Mr. Lu—”

“You don’t return a favor at the cost of someone’s wellbeing. We’re not the mafia.”

Narrowing his eyes, Yifan drops his lips into a deep frown. “Where do you get off on scolding me, Yixing? We’re partners. You were the one who suggested we look in Korea in the first place.”

The corners of his book dig into his fingers but Yixing hardly feels a thing, unaware of how tightly he’s gripping the hardcover. He doesn’t want to argue but God if Yifan’s defensiveness isn’t infuriating. “If anyone knows how much I hated Han for abandoning me at the hands of his family, it’s you. But now I’ve realized that bringing him back isn’t going to help anyone. Not me and especially not him. He’s building a life here. A pretty ty life but I can tell he's happy. I never thought I’d see my cousin head over heels for someone but he is.”

He can't help but look at Yifan with intent and softly say, “I guess you’re the only one who doesn’t know anything about feeling affection for someone now.”

A look of exasperation crosses Yifan’s face for a split second before he schools his expression. “When are you going to give it a rest?” He sighs. “We both know you aren’t actually interested in me.”

If only that was actually true. There is nothing more stresful, more exhausting than hopelessly pining over someone who doesn't take you seriously. It's hard to not like Yifan; he has the cutest smile and he's the only one there to pull Yixing back when the stress of being a slave to the family business nearly drives him off the deep-end. They match well, a balanced pair of opposites, but the problem isn't that Yifan is not into men; he's specifically not interested in Yixing. Until now, Yixing has refused to give up.

“Please rethink selling Han out to his father. I’ll maintain a purely business relationship with you if you do.” Placing his book back into his bag and latching it closed, Yixing lifts the strap onto his shoulder. He swipes his phone off the small table and pockets it. With a small bow, he rises out of his seat and exits the coffee shop.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

A hand reaches out to grab a piece of paper from the wall. The lighting is dim but there is enough of it that the words scrawled on the sheet can be read — don’t look back, it reads. He wasn’t planning on it but at least his partner had enough time to leave a note before…well…before they got him. He doesn’t really know what they are, though, and just like looking back isn’t an option, getting up close and personal with those things aren’t on his list of things to do, either.

Continuing down the hall, paper in hand, he reaches an intersection. As he contemplates whether to go left or right, the pipe next to him bursts and sends a stream of steam into the air.

“Oh my god,” Minseok breathes out when he flinches, surprised.

In a split decision, he turns right and continues his search for the exit but quickly stops. There is a hunched figure at the end of the hall.

Minseok curses under his breath.

Despite the warning on the paper, he turns around to walk in the other direction.

Suddenly, a voice permeates the loud music playing through his headphones. “Minseok, you can’t just leave your damn door cracked open like this.”

Brushing his left headphone off his ear, Minseok listens to make sure he wasn’t imagining it and makes the mistake of looking at the chat log on his second monitor.

xiuminsboobs: jongdizzle in the house?
394738: play ths game calld wick
meanluigi: y u no invite ur bf more
xiuminfan: ur the best <3
xiuxiuxiu: jongdaeeeeeeee
trixareforkids: check out my stream in an hour!!
mlgpro99: r u really gay??

Minseok hears the door close and the lock click in place. He pauses the game and sends a quick glance to his webcam. “Sorry, you guys. Didn’t know someone was coming over.” He smiles sheepishly. “Give me a sec’.”

Just as he slips off his head phones and turns over his shoulder, he sees Lu Han walk in from the front hallway. He looks mad — typical — but is dressed differently than his work attire or usual loungewear, wearing faded black skinny jeans and a grey flannel shirt. He looks great. Han always looks great but Minseok forgot how nice his legs are because they’re almost always hidden in the baggy fabric of his sweatpants when he comes over.

“Oh, you’re working.” Lu Han pauses in his step once he catches a glimpse of Minseok’s elaborate computer setup. His voice is muffled around the straw of a white drink as he sips. “Guess I should have called first, huh?”

Minseok shakes his head and waves him over. “It’s fine. I was only gonna play for another half an hour or so.” He gets up as Lu Han walks over. Stealing the drink out of his hands, Minseok pushes him down to sit in front of his computer. He taps Lu Han’s cheek and points at the camera. “Guys, this is Han. He’s gonna play with you guys for a while so I can get another chair. Warning: he curses more than he speaks Korean.”

Han looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Excuse me? What do you mean ‘play’?”

Tasting the drink in his hand — a vanilla milkshake with a hint of some kind of liquor he can’t identify — Minseok gives Lu Han a sweet smile. “WASD to move, E to pick up things, use the mouse to look around. Find the key and get out. This is what you get when you walk in while I’m working.” He pats Lu Han on the shoulder and drifts off toward his bedroom.

Lu Han stares after him, at a loss but unable to get mad. He could never get mad at Minseok. Shaking his head, he turns to the screen. “He takes my drink and then makes me do this . He’s lucky he’s cute,” he mutters under his breath in Chinese as he looks down and experimentally presses the W key, flinching when the first person view of the game inches forward.

Awkwardly, he moves around in-game, unused to using both hands like this. He hasn’t played computer games since he was a teen. The character makes it down the hall and Lu Han jerks the mouse to the right to turn the corner. “Hope none of you ers get motion sickness,” he says to Minseok’s fans. He walks forward a little more and stops when he sees an alien-type thing roaming the hall. “What the hell is that?”

He notices something out of the corner of his eye and glances away to the second screen where the chat log is moving at hyper speed.

deeznuts: who is this guy?
xiuminsboobs: just go its ok
3453sk8: it’s harmless
gamefan21: alien gives u tips
xiustan: hoe dont do it
meanluigi: lol
trixareforkids: watch my stream in 1 hour!!
supergoku: go china boy go
xiuxiuxiu: lol hes gunna get rekt
xiuminsboobs: trust me

“Okay…” he drawls out the last vowel as he focuses on the game again. As his finger lands on the W key, he realizes the one who should actually be playing isn’t back yet. “Minseok, how ing long does it take to get one damn ch— what the ?!” he screams and jumps when the creature suddenly charges at him and kills him.

Sitting back in the chair, he covers his mouth with the tips of his four fingers and stares at the ceiling. Minseok returns then, barely able to carry the small desk chair as he shakes with laughter. Lu Han doesn’t even bother to look away from the ceiling as the chair is placed down beside him.

“Are you okay?” Minseok asks through his giggling.

It’s the sweetest sound Lu Han has ever heard and it would make everything in his body flutter with adoration if his soul hadn’t left his body a second ago. He takes a deep breath through his nose.

Minseok leans over the back of the computer chair and stares directly into his unfocused eyes, a broad grin on his face. “Han?”

“Have you had lunch, yet?” Han asks plainly, meeting the stare unwaveringly despite the fierce beating of his heart.

Minseok shakes his head.

“Good. Because I was thinking about going out to eat but now I’m gonna let you starve.” Sitting up, Han looks around for his milkshake. Spotting it on the chair Minseok brought in, he grabs it and stands. He walks around to sit in the small wood-framed chair, shoves the straw into his mouth and takes a long, hard sip.

Retaking his own seat, Minseok spares at look at the chat, grinning at the stream of ‘lol’s. There are a couple comments about getting Lu Han to play more and one claiming ‘xiu and the chinese dude r totally smashing’ that doesn’t weird him out like the ones about him and Jongdae do. If anything it makes his skin heat up in a light blush but Minseok tries his hardest not to think about it.

He lets Lu Han sulk over being tricked as he restarts the game and gets to work trying to beat it in the last twenty minutes of his stream.

“I think he’s mad at me,” he stage-whispers into the microphone. “I don’t think he’ll be willing to play again.”

Lu Han doesn’t grace him with a response to that, choosing to gnaw on his straw and pout petulantly.

“So where are we getting lunch?” Minseok asks as he maneuvers easily through the game.

“Were you not listening? I’m not taking your anywhere anymore,” Lu Han replies.

“We both know that’s a lie, Lu Han. You do nothing but spoil me.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m your sugar daddy or something.” Frowning, Lu Han aims a light kick at Minseok’s ankle. “Don’t children watch your channel?”

Minseok returns the kick with a sweet chime of laughter. “My subs are used to Jongdae’s gross euphemisms. I doubt they’re bothered.”

The conversation is dropped after that as Minseok refocuses on his game commentary, Lu Han chiming in to complain about how crappy the game is in between slurps. They have a good dynamic, one that isn’t as tiring to keep up as the constant ual banter with Jongdae. No matter how natural their attachment is, it always feels like they are putting on a show when other people are watching. It’s nice...kind of. But only because Jongdae knows that the more Minseok is annoyed at him, the less likely he is to wallow in worry over how someone else may be analyzing everything about him.

Sometimes Minseok just wants to chill with his best friend. Without all of the theatrics. Without the weird tension that comes along with Jongdae’s protectiveness.

Minseok plays for another fifteen minutes before he dies again and calls it quits. “Thanks for tuning in, guys. This will go up on the channel sometime this week.” He spares a glance at Lu Han when the man gets up but doesn’t falter in his ending. “I don’t know when I’ll play this again,” he continues before dropping his voice. “Maybe when I can convince Han to come back and play.”

He cuts the stream after reminding his viewers how much he appreciates them and as he exits the various programs he has running, Lu Han returns from the bathroom. “Do you mind if we order in rather than go out?” Minseok swings around in his chair to look at the other man.

Lu Han pushes his hair back and raises both of his brows. “Hm? Yeah. Whatever works for you.”

He looks good with his hair off his face too, Minseok notices. “I’m not trying to hole myself in. I’ve just been feeling a little antsy today and I don’t want to risk going out,” Minseok defends.

“No, delivery is fine. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Lu Han smiles lightly. “We’re playing by your rules. No one knows your limits better than you.”

A little taken aback by the sudden softness in Lu Han’s eyes, Minseok doesn’t realize he’s staring until Lu Han clears his throat and reaches for his phone.

“A-Are you okay with Chinese? I know a pretty good place with more authentic food by your Korean standards.”

Blushing lightly, Minseok nods. “I’ll be fine with whatever you get.”

Lu Han excuses himself to the kitchen to call the restaurant, mumbling in Chinese as he goes.

Swinging around in his chair to face his computer, Minseok grabs the mouse. “Well, that was weird,” he says to himself. He shuts the machine down, saving the editing of the recording of his livestream until tomorrow now that he has a guest over.

He didn’t expect Lu Han to come over so soon after returning back to work; Minseok thought he would take on extra shifts to make up for the lost tips. (Or maybe not based on how much Lu Han dislikes social interaction just like him). But even if he didn’t work extra shifts, surely he’s tired of seeing Minseok’s face by now.

Once his computer finishes turning off, Minseok rises out of the chair. The kitchen is out of view but he can hear Lu Han on the phone. As much as he’s surprised, Minseok can’t say he’s not happy.

i know only like three people read this fic but whyyy did no one tell me i haven't updated in a year

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