Can you return my wish back to me?

 

Yixing can’t remember a lot of things (like when he last returned home or even, sometimes, his own birthday), but he remembers when he met Yifan for the first time. Or, more accurately, he remembers bumping into an illegally tall guy. He’d bowed in apology before raising his eyes to look at the guy.

 

Handsome. That was the only word Yixing could think up then. Even by Yixing’s standards, the tall stranger was really good looking. (And Yixing’s met Hyun Bin face-to-face before. It doesn’t get much better than that.)

 

Yixing’s dangerously fast heartbeat then had nothing to do with the three-hour practice session he’d just walked out of.

 

“Hello, my name is Wu Yifan. I’m new here,” the stranger said, speaking in awkwardly formal Korean. There was a pause, like he was trying to find the right words, and then he added, “I hope we can get along.”

 

I hope so, too. Yixing shook off that thought and bowed again. “Zhang Yixing,” he said. He was probably about to say more, but at that moment, his phone went off, effectively halting his next words.

 

Yixing remembers Yifan’s name later, but as he walked out, he forgot to shake his outstretched hand.

 

 

 

Time is the poison I’m taking right now.

 

Yixing memorizes the feeling of the soft press of Yifan’s lips against his own, the way their limbs tangle in a mess of sweat and exhaustion. It’s the adrenaline, Yixing tells himself, ignoring the way his heartbeat picks up at the sight of Yifan’s dorky smile.

 

They seem to drift towards each other. When Yixing collapses after a long dance session, Yifan’s there with reassurances and hot food. When Yifan allows the occasional weakness to show, Yixing’s beside him with an encouraging smile.

 

They’re young, full of reckless energy, eyes set on the glorious goal of becoming a star. The darkness of the future has yet to catch up with them. To them, the hugs and occasional kisses are only natural, formed through mutual understanding and support.

 

Yixing smiles as Yifan cups his cheek, tilting his head back and pressing soft kisses to his closed eyelids, brushing away the sweat. On these hot, almost unbearable summer afternoons, Yixing finds the joy of learning more about Yifan. It’s the small things that bring them closer together: the little words that bring out Yifan’s beautiful laugh, the touches that Yifan reciprocates readily, the way their fingers tangle like the bristles on their toothbrushes. There’s no need to define this closeness, not with the calm acceptance that they’ll always be there for each other. There’s no need to hide their closeness, not in a world that has yet to learn their names.

 

Somewhere in the horizon, the date of debut is looming, but they have yet to discover the dangers of its penetrating light.

 

 

 

Is there a mask you can lend to me?

 

The news of their debut scatters a round of happiness over all the members of their groups. It means hard work, longer hours to perfect their performances, but the approach of their debut washes away the amount of sweat and tears they’ve shed.

 

The days count down, running together in blurs of activity and preparation. They barely have time to celebrate; demands for perfection are draining all of their willpower and strength.

 

With the flurry of activity around them, it’s pure luck that Yixing and Yifan are able to watch the fireworks. They sit side-by-side on the edges of the riverbank, watching the display of exploding lights above them.

 

“We’re debuting,” Yifan says softly. “We made it.”

 

Yixing turns, a sarcastic remark on his tongue that dies when he meets Yifan’s eyes. There, he sees the fear and doubt hidden behind the quiet confidence that the others had depended on. Instead, he places a hand on Yifan’s, an unspoken reminder that he wasn’t alone. “The fireworks are beautiful,” he says instead.

 

Yifan hums in agreement before leaning closer, placing his free hand on Yixing’s shoulder. There’s a hesitance in his movements that Yixing has never seen before. Usually, his moves are smooth and well-timed, Yixing’s reactions following a beat later so they meet in the middle.

 

But Yifan doesn’t move any closer, so Yixing tilts his head, a question in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks, but there’s another question hidden underneath.

 

For a moment, Yixing thinks Yifan’s going to tell him something, but suddenly, a firecracker explodes overhead. Yifan jerks in surprise, and then he’s leaning in, too soon, his lips pressing against Yixing’s.

 

There’s a break in the rhythm they’ve worked so hard to build. Yixing responds quickly, leaning into Yifan’s touch and closing his eyes.

 

It’s still there—the way their lips fit together naturally. Such moments are rare now, especially when they’re surrounded by many others and are so focused on preparing for debut, often leaving them too exhausted to even exchange a word of greeting. Yet all things considered, it’s like those gaps were never there. This moment is just like all the others they’ve shared, Yixing reasons as he threads his fingers through Yifan’s hair. It’s just more enhanced, fireworks exploding overhead and the semi-darkness wrapping them away in a magical bubble.

 

He tries to convince himself that Yifan’s hesitance doesn’t mean anything, that there’s no reason their relationship should change. But even with Yifan’s familiar smell and the signature taste of the mint gum he always chews, Yixing can’t dispel the bitter taste in the back of his mouth.

 

 

 

You say dependence is the barrier between us.

 

Although they spend every day preparing for their debut, the actual debut day still manages to sneak up on them. There’s nervous energy backstage, with Jongdae humming under his breath and Lu Han fidgeting impatiently. Yifan’s walking around, offering quiet encouragement where needed, even among the staffs, who are fussing over the last-minute details.

 

But Yixing can tell that Yifan’s nervous as well. There’s quickness in his gait, an irregular jerk in his arm muscles. Yixing stands when Yifan starts to walk around the room. He takes Yifan’s hand, smiling in a way that says, You should calm down too.

 

Yifan smiles in return, and he leans in slightly. For a moment, Yixing thinks that Yifan’s going to kiss him, right then and there. But then Zitao starts complaining, and Yifan jerks back, pulling his hand away from Yixing’s grasp.

 

When Yixing blinks again, Yifan’s already gone, walking with an even jerkier pace than before.

 

Despite the worrying, the debut stage still goes pretty well. It wasn’t perfect, but when Yixing walks offstage, he’s satisfied.

 

But their debut is quickly followed by a million more activities. The company is determined to promote Exo as the boy band of Asia, especially in China.

 

There are thousands of eyes on them now, so Yixing and Yifan are careful to keep their not-quite-friendship out of the public’s eye. It’s harder to keep it a secret from the other ten members, though. Most of them dismiss it as close friendship.

 

Maybe it’s a given that Lu Han would find out first. Or maybe Lu Han is just bolder than the other members. He corners Yixing one day and asks bluntly, “Do you like Yifan?”

 

“Of course,” Yixing replies smoothly, deliberately misinterpreting the question. From the way Lu Han tugs on his hair, annoyed, he can tell that Lu Han’s thinking of a way to tactfully reword the question. Yixing slips away before Lu Han can ask again.

 

It would be easier to corner Yifan, Yixing knows. Yifan would be no match for a determined Lu Han.

 

Fanxing quickly becomes very popular, with Taoris as a close second. Maybe it’s the awkwardly cool air that Yifan has that makes fangirls so eager to pair him with another member. Sensing the popularity of these topics, the interviewers often bring it up, or at least hint at either pairing. Yifan vehemently denies it each time, urging the audience not to “overthink” things.
 

It’s hard, though. There’s a lot of stress in remembering that they can’t sit as close, can’t keep staring at each other, can’t fall into their own world. Maybe that’s why Yifan leans away a little more. Yifan’s always so tense, even when they’re alone.

 

 

 

I know it’s easy for you to leave.

 

Yixing can’t stop himself from asking. “Are you scared?” They’re on an airplane together, sitting side-by-side. They’re constantly in the air, and it seems like the airplane is the one time that they can really rest, away from the constantly ringing phones and screaming fangirls.

 

Yifan looks up; he stops scrolling on the iPod he and Yixing had been listening to. “Scared?” The music has ended, and between them, there’s only silence and the loud rumbles of the airplane’s engine.

 

“Of them finding out about us.”

 

“Of course.”

 

It would be awful, and Yixing knows as well. The scandal of the decade that could very well tear Exo apart and taint their names forever. “Lu Han already knows,” Yixing points out. He wants to trust them, at least tell them about what’s going on. Mostly, he wants solid ground. Witnesses. He wants Yifan’s agreement that they’re official. Sure, it seems cheesy, even unnecessary. But Yixing’s having doubts—the way Yifan always remains aloof, making sure that the audience would never think he’d ever be romantically attracted to another man.

 

“He doesn’t really.”

 

“Is that what this is? A dirty secret to pull out whenever you want?” Yixing rarely ever gets angry, but by now, he’s had enough. He stands abruptly, overturning the tray and spilling the cup of water that had been sitting there. Yifan reaches out to catch the cup, and when he looks up again, Yixing’s already left.

 

Yixing manages to convince Tao into trading seats with him and settles down beside Lu Han, who’s watching a movie intently. When Yixing’s about to go to sleep, though, Lu Han turns to him and pulls out his earphones.

 

“Did you have a fight with Duizhang?”

 

Yixing sighs. “Yeah, I did.” It’s not that fights among the members aren’t common, but Yixing has never fought with another member before.

 

Lu Han stares at him, and Yixing knows that he knows, but he only says, “I hope you guys make up soon,” and turns back to the TV.

 

They do come to a compromise, eventually. Or at least, Yifan apologizes, and after a lot of kisses, Yixing gives in. This is better than nothing, he tells himself, laughing as Yifan messes with the instant coffee maker and ends up spilling water everywhere. He can try to pretend if it means he’ll have Yifan by his side at the end of the day. It’s better for all of them, Yixing tells himself as they sit in the hotel room together, smiling at each other over a cup of coffee.

 

 

How can I sleep without seeing your smile?

 

Yixing can sense the change in Yifan’s attitude. The anger in the clench of his jaw, the note of agitation in his voice that has yet to explode. And no, it’s not because he’s jetlagged or because he’s tired.

 

It’s because the company is pushing the edges of their endurance. They’re flying to too many countries multiple times a month, and they have days crowded with interviews and reality shows.

 

But Yifan doesn’t scream when they receive yet another phone call about a last-minute schedule change. He doesn’t cry when it looks like there are endless shows on the schedule, meaning they won’t be able to return home for yet another year. He doesn’t complain even when he has to stay up all night to memorize their schedules and sort everything out.

 

Perhaps the only way Yifan can remain so calm is due to his Kris persona. Even offstage, he doesn’t allow that façade to waver, if it even is a façade anymore. And Yixing can’t read Kris. Kris isn’t like Tao, who loudly proclaims his opinions and emotions for anyone to hear. Kris also isn’t like Luhan, who always has a cheerful smile on his face and a ready joke.

 

Kris manages to intimidate Yixing, who can’t tell if the impassive face means he wants a hug or he wants to be left alone.

 

Often, Yifan walks out of their dorm early in the morning to sit at the top of the stairs. Yixing joins him sometimes, when he wakes up early enough. It’s late spring now, and their comeback is scheduled soon, too soon.

 

“Do you like this city?”

 

Yixing turns his head, surprised by the irregular question. The light in Yifan’s eyes is softer now, but Yixing still feels like something’s off. Maybe it’s because Yifan hasn’t threaded his fingers through Yixing’s hair to kiss him in a long, long time, or maybe it’s the long stretch of empty space between them.

 

“Do you ever want to return home?”

 

Oh, Yixing thinks, and he reaches over to take Yifan’s hand. It’s cold, so Yixing holds his hand and places it in his jacket pocket.

 

But holding Yifan’s hand isn’t enough to keep Yifan by his side. Everyone has their limits, and Yifan has reached his.

 

The news of the lawsuit hits them all without warning. Even Yixing is shocked. Sure, he had sensed a change, but he’d always thought that Yifan would be by his side. Yet contrary to the way the company plays it off, it’s not a selfish act.

 

But Yixing can’t help wanting to be selfish. He wants Yifan by his side, listening to his breathing late into the night without fear that someone will find out. It’s a fine line, their undefined blur between close friends and lovers. It hurts, though, when it looks like Yifan just walked away without a backwards glance.

 

The sudden change requires a redoing of their entire choreography at the last minute. There’s hardly any time to eat, talk, or sleep, since their concerts are coming up too soon. But even when the other members collapse gratefully into their beds, Yixing can’t sleep, and he ends up staring at the empty space on the other side of the room.

 

There’s no one there now, no one to hold hands with, no one to share secret smiles with, no one to drink coffee together in the early morning hours.

 

 

 

I’ll just pretend that I understand in the end.

 

Yixing gets a text message after their first concert. It’s from an unknown number, but Yixing recognizes the area code as one from China. The contents are simple, a mere Good job! that could have been addressed to anyone.

 

But Yixing knows that it’s Yifan, and it helps, knowing that Yifan’s there, watching in silent support. And from what he learns from Lu Han and Zitao, no one else has received a similar text.

 

The text remains in Yixing’s phone, and sometimes, when Yixing’s close to exploding from stress, he’s tempted to call the number. He’s certain that if he listens to Yifan’s voice, it will be enough to calm him.

 

Yet Yixing doesn’t call, and Yifan makes no further attempt to contact him. After receiving the text, Yixing works harder. It’s almost ridiculous, because he knows it’s too much to hope for another text.

 

It seems like whatever they had disappeared with the stifling summer heat. Yifan goes on to act in many movies, and he’s continuously praised for the “amazing chemistry” he has with the other actresses. Yixing downloads them illegally onto his phone, and sneaks time to watch them between their crammed schedules.

 

Yifan looks healthier, Yixing has to admit. He sees his face sometimes, on the front cover of magazines or ads on TV. It’s not fair, because he can walk away and leave them behind. He’s not being selfish, Yixing reminds himself, but he’s having trouble believing himself. Yixing wants to beg for an explanation, ask Yifan what their relationship really meant to him. He sees Yifan onscreen, proclaiming his love for a girl, kissing her long and slow, announcing their relationship to the world, and it hurts because he knows they never had that chance.

 

Yixing wants to ask, because it’s eating him up inside, but he’s scared to find out. What if Yifan never felt the same for him? What if he’d meant to leave him behind all along because he was worried that the world would find out?

 

I love you. Those three words were so simple, but they’d never had the chance to say them to each other. It had been on the tip of Yixing’s tongue several times, but he’d always second-guessed himself before saying so because what if Yifan didn’t feel the same way?

 

It’s this same self-doubt that holds Yixing back from contacting Yifan. Nearly a decade after Yifan left, Yixing announces his engagement.

 

She’s a sweet girl, pretty and nice, an actress he had a chance to work with. It seems only natural that they would end up together.

 

Yet it feels so wrong. Because it’s not her smile he wants to see when he wakes up, it’s not her hand he wants to hold forever.

 

The night before the wedding, Yixing pulls up the text from that unknown number from so long ago.

 

I used to love you, he types. I’m getting married tomorrow.

 

It’s his last chance, before the doors of the past really close behind him.

 

He never presses send.