-十EN-

Zhang Yixing smells the smoke even before it is announced via hysterical screams and a pulsing crowd searching for escape. A fire has started on one of the lower floors due to some part of the aircraft bursting into flame en route into the building, snaking its way into the stairwell. There is nowhere else to go.

He has been surprisingly calm throughout this ordeal. He isn't sure if it's due to the lack of sleep or the combination of tea and cold medication he had taken earlier that morning, but whatever the case, Yixing just hasn't felt the urge to panic yet. He sits down on a desk that had been vacated minutes earlier, legs swinging over the sides, and peers out the window.

There isn't much to see. Smoke has a funny tendency to obstruct vision.

His phone rings, startling Yixing out of his reverie. It is such a normal occurrence that he stares, dumbfounded, for four seconds before answering. "Hel-"

"Zhang Yixing where are you right now?" Comes the tumble of words, all  in one breathless flurry.

Yixing thinks for a few seconds. "On the 40th floor of the ASEM Tower in Samseong-dong. I'm sitting on a desk right now."

There is a pause, a heavy silence, before the voice drops to a whisper. "Yixing...the building…"

"I'm looking out the window," says Yixing casually. "Where are you? Maybe I can see you."

"Yixing…"

Maybe it is his imagination, but the desk seems to tremble and then tilts, causing him to shift his weight so as not to slip off. The mass has stopped screaming, at least. Now, there are only sobs and hiccups and people on their knees praying to some invisible God that Yixing doesn't believe in. He prefers something more concrete.

Something like the voice who is still talking despite sounding thin and stretched out, like a guitar string ready to snap. "Please, Yixing, you have to go, you have to find some way to-"

"Ah, Lu-Lu, cheer up. You'll get wrinkles if you frown too much, and then the fangirls won't chase after you anymore."

"No, please, Yixing. No…"

It is merely a personal preference, but Yixing has never been one for theatricals or melodrama of any sort. For all his recognition as the joker of the group, he is much more firmly rooted in pragmatism than the dreamers, people like Zitao or Kyungsoo. By any logic, the building should be going down, and the fact that it hasn't yet is simply a of luck.

Yixing estimates that he has ten minutes. Which means he had better make good use of them.

"Hey Luhan, it's been a while since we've had a nice talk. How are you?"

-九INE-

The first time they met had been a series of disjunctions wherein Yixing stood at a subway station, map in hand, a bag filled with Chinese snacks and various memorabilia and all his mother's blessings threaded into a handmade sweater, pondering the massive size of the city. Of course, the fact that he was from China- in fact, had just departed the Changsha airport a few hours ago- should have made Seoul appear tiny by comparison.

Not so.

It was interesting how a foreign city and foreign people and foreign language could enhance every unknown alley and road into labyrinths of their own right. Yixing might have laughed, if he hadn't been so utterly lost.

He contemplated waiting for the sun to set and then navigating by the stars. It seemed like a rather romantic idea- a lost traveler, finding his way by following the path laid out before him in the form of twinkling balls of light light-years and light-years away.

A car pulled up by the sidewalk, right where he was standing and the window rolled down, just like in the movies or  he supposed, dramas (since he was in Korea, after all, and Yixing really hoped his story would last longer than the couple of weeks usually covered in the timespan of a movie plot.) A boy with round eyes hidden beneath a giant mound of hair poked his head out the window.

Here was the confusing part.

The boy spoke mandarin. "Hi, is this Zhang Yixing? Wow, you look exactly the same as your photograph. My name is Luhan. Do you need help with your luggage?"

Yixing had been fairly certain he was in Seoul where, as far as he knew, most people employed Korean as their language of choice. Moreover, he should have been another nameless entity in the city, and not the target of a boy with well-coifed locks who, disturbingly, seemed to possess both his name and photo.

There were two options, really. The first was to accept the help of this Mandarin-speaking, pretty boy and climb into the car. The second, and more attractive one, was to back away slowly down into the underground subway station at which point...at which point...

It wasn't like Yixing could speak the language well enough to summon help.

What the heck. If his life was destined to be a Korean drama, then so be it. Yixing opened the door and slid in.

Yixing asks Luhan if he remembers that day. There is a shaky chuckle on the other side of the line as Luhan answers, "Yeah. I was wondering why you kept staring at me like that."

"I thought you were an alien, or a secret agent. How was I supposed to know SM sent you to pick me up?"

"Do I look like an alien to you?"

Yixing tilts his head. "Well...I mean, you are from Exoplanet right?

Had they not been separated by half a city and 40 stories, Yixing is certain Luhan might have smacked him on the head for that.

-E八GHT-

"Do you remember that park?"

"Which park?" Luhan sounds out of breath, and Yixing wonders if he is running somewhere.

"You know, that one outside our dorm. There was one time we were drunk and galloping between the trees…"

"Wasn't Kris chasing us?"

"Yeah, but that was because you kept shouting 'I'm a dragon- I can breathe fire' as loud as you could! And then Kris took personal offense since you stole his superpower."

"At the times, my lungs felt like they were burning up because of that alcohol you gave me," Luhan defends himself. He is definitely gasping for air, so rather than ignoring it, Yixing decides to inquire.

"Where are you going?"

When Luhan does answer, it comes out as an apology that Yixing refuses to except. "Yixing ah, I'm sorry. They won't let me get any closer."

Inside, a burst of fury flares up because how can Luhan be so stupid as to run towards the danger? But it dies out almost immediately when Yixing imagines Luhan's stricken face, and he murmurs, "Just keep talking. That's enough."

-SEV七N-

Fangirls often marvel over Luhan's delicate features, calling him a Cute Little Prince. Yixing understands that this misconception is based solely on appearances, but he still grins when he tries to picture Luhan as an innocent little boy and not the hurricane that evokes chaos everywhere, what with his devious pranks that often send manager-hyung running after them as they pelt down the hallway.

The way he thinks about it, Luhan has always been the swirling wind, and Yixing the amorphous water that is wrapped up and carried on the journey.

When he vocalizes this, Luhan muses, "It sounds very poetic. We should make it into a song."

"你是我的风，吹！我是你的雨 水！You are my wind, blow! I am your rain water!" Yixing tries. It has a nice beat to it.

"Then again...maybe not," says Luhan.

-SI六-

"Hey, Luhan."

"I'm here."

"I have something to confess." It has been weighing on Yixing's mind for quite some time, and he figures that it is now or never and well, he has never been one for regrets.

"To confess?"

"Yeah. Do you remember that other day how you found that somebody used your DOTA 2 account to play games and then ended up losing five in a row, lowering your rank?"

"Yes…"

"And how you were really angry and demanded that we tell you who the culprit was?"

"Yixing, I remember it very clearly."

"Well, you know how I told you it was Zitao and then you scolded him and made him cry?"

"Yixing, what are you saying?"

"So you see…" Yixing coughs lightly into his sleeve. "I lied. It was actually Chanyeol."

-FIV五-

"Do you have a pen on you?" Yixing asks.

"I do. Why?"

"Can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

Yixing brings the receiver closer to his mouth, scanning the room for any potential eavesdropper. "Promise me you won't share this with anyone."

"What is it, Yixing?"

"Promise me!"

"Okay, okay, I promise. Now can you tell me what it is?"

Satisfied, Yixing grins. "My ultimate, top secret recipe for spicy twice-cooked pork. That's your favorite, isn't it? You'll need to learn how to make it for yourself." He proceeds to rattle off the instructions, beginning with the choosing of the ingredients all the way to the actual process of stir-frying it.

"That's it. Not too hard, is it?"

"I'll go buy the ingredients, Yixing, if you'll make it for us tonight. For dinner, okay?" There is a hint of desperation at the end of Luhan's sentence, just a little rise in intonation.

"You'll have to learn to do it yourself, Lu-Lu," Yixing repeats gently.

-F四UR-

Yixing asks Luhan to choose a song to sing because he doesn't have his guitar or any musical device save for his voice and a couple pens he found on the ground. He is already humming by the time Luhan launches into the first phrase because Luhan is a predictable person, and his favorite song to sing to Yixing has never changed.

At the chorus, Yixing joins in and the two of them are harmonizing in a way that isn't taught in SM's many rigorous training sessions, but somehow just feels natural.

"小酒窝长睫毛是你最美的记号 Little dimples and long eyelashes are your prettiest trademarks"

The seconds tick away.

-THR三E-

There is a little girl who is clinging to her mother, face splotchy with tears. Yixing stops singing, ignoring Luhan's concerned, "What's wrong?" and sidles over. He reaches into his pocket, producing a small lollipop from the stash he always carries around with him. She turns away from him, still sniffling.

Unperturbed, Yixing shows her an array of treats, including his favorite: a type of milk candy that he has to hide in the dorms for fear of it disappearing mysteriously. Shyly, the little girl reaches out a hand, and chooses one, her hand darting forward and back like a sparrow.

Behind, her mother gives Yixing a nod of appreciation.

No words are exchanged, but a world of understanding transpires between them.

Yixing returns to his phone to catch, "-xing, what-"

"A little girl was crying."

A sigh. "God, Yixing, don't scare me like that."

"Sorry ah, Lu-Lu."

-T二O-

The hush of Luhan's breathing has always been comforting, particularly on black nights where the cities lights are washed away by the rain, outshone by streaks of lightening that run like cracks down the sky. It is sound without sound, woven into the backdrop of every day such that sometimes, if Yixing isn't paying attention, he can't quite hear it.

He is listening now.

They have fallen silent, not because there is nothing to say but because how can one condense friendship into two minutes?

Yixing has never found silences awkward, so he revels in it now. As long as Luhan is there, there is nothing in the world he is afraid of.

-ON一-

Maybe he should call his family. It seems like the right thing to do to fulfil the last of his filial duties by saying goodbye to his parents. The entire building is slanted now, and nobody is breathing for fear that one little puff of air will send the thousands of tons of metal and concrete plummeting down to the ground.

Yixing is happy. Elated, almost. Not because of the threat of being crushed before he has realized his dreams, the ones he has worked so hard for every day, the ones he ran towards as the hours and days and years passed him by, but because he realizes that along the way, he has gained something much more important. This something he can carry with him forever.

It is the people who stood behind him, who stood with him, who believed in him.

It is Luhan, who refuses to give up because Luhan has always been stubborn like that, willing to throw himself into a battle and fight against overwhelming odds if it means saving his friends. Yixing knows he cannot win this time.

"Luhan-ah, I guess this is it huh? The final time…"

"There is no final time," Luhan insists. "Goodbyes aren't forever."

"Hm… then see you later?"

"See you later, Zhang Yixing."

-Z零RO-

Just as Yixing is about to click 'end call', he loses his grip on the phone and then on the floor. Everything is crumbling away beneath him, the building shaking, roaring like a beast awoken from its mighty slumber. He doesn't have time to think before the ground gives way.

Yixing feels nothing. His limbs are floating like a paper boat on the water's edge, bobbing up and down in time with the waves.

He has never thought very hard about death or what it might feel like, but when Yixing closes his eyes, there is nothing scary and nothing extraordinary. Just gentle music, like a mother's song, lulling him to sleep.

-完-