Prompt: “One is Worrisome About the Other”

Pairing: Kris/Lay

Words: ~1500

Dedicated to -Jello-.

Kris always had a soft spot for Zhang Yixing, a teen with naturally chestnut hair, soft eyes, and friendly dimples sprung from tender smiles; delicate skin stretched across prominent bones and muscle that Kris was all too worried would surely one day break. Yixing was not as fit as Kim Jongin; his body not as strong, but he practiced just as hard, unyielding where he himself or even Zitao fell limp with exertion. If anything, Yixing was passionate.

“Dance is art,” Yixing would say.

A mix of ballet and jazz to hip hop; an allongé extended from an arabesque, assemblé, chasse, and then we swap genres with popping and locking. More freestyle, Yixing would pant, swerving his hips to and fro in time with the music. Sometimes Kris was sure he was speaking another language.

When a week of rehearsals was finally through and Yixing’s body would give way, Kris was always there to catch him. Although he always shrugged it off as simply being the task of a responsible leader, Kris was always attentive of Yixing’s bruises, and the way his face would pale in even the lightest of wintery drizzles. Jongdae thought he was a little too caring, often telling Kris to act like the tall and foreboding man that his outward appearance suggested.

Kris tried but it never worked.

“I’ve got to keep going,” Yixing would groan against Kris’s shoulder.

“You can’t improve if you become complacent. How am I supposed to compete with that Kim Jongin if I cannot practice? The company gave me the position as dancer for a reason. I must improve.”

Yixing was a little impulsive and all too forgetful. He would leave his dirty shirts draped across the worn brown sofa in the living room, his phone by the sink in the kitchen and his reading glasses on top a book he had forgotten where he’d placed. Kris followed Yixing with his eyes. Often Kris was tasked with scolding him about it, but inevitably the very next day there would be something else missing that seemingly only Kris could find.

Recordings and public broadcasts were the worst, because it always took all of Kris’s attention to keep his emotions at bay. It would look bad to the public and it would weaken his status as the leader of his subunit. If he softened for one person, surely the other members would take advantage and use this softness against him. Kris sure didn’t put it past the irritating Luhan or the childish Jongdae.

***

It is raining when they make it to the stadium. Kris stares out the window of their group bus into the dreary and gloomy steam. He can hear the faint patter of the small droplets on glass and the quiet eeriness that fills the air whenever the wind picks up and casts golden leaves off tall trees. He looks over to Yixing and lets out a frustrated sigh. has caught a cold from late vocal lessons and his skin is paler than usual, and Kris knows that those long baggy pants are hiding fresh purple bruises from where Yixing has fallen one too many times in rehearsal from exhaustion.

“Are we really supposed to dance in this weather?” Kris asks the manager pointedly.

“It’s the Asian Dream Cup soccer match. Be thankful you were chosen to perform over more distinguished groups. This is a huge honour," the manager responds pointedly. Kris lets out a groan, nodding in response.

“I know. But isn’t the health of the members more important?”

Luhan lets out a snort and Minseok looks at him with derision, complaining that he’s not the one to play the soccer match and he shouldn’t be complaining. Kris glances across at Yixing and lets his eyes linger. Yixing is shivering. His bleached blonde hair sticks to his forehead as he lets out a muffled cough. He mumbles an apology to the members, opening the door and clambering out onto the already drenched cement.

All Kris can do is watch. The grass is wet and he wonders if Yixing will fare the performance without slipping. He pays little attention to his own movements and taps Yixing on the shoulder every now and then to make sure that they are in alignment, and no one has slipped. At the back of his mind, he worries for the safety of the other members as well, though Yixing somehow seems the most important. His movements are more sluggish than usual, his eyebrows creased in concentration.

Kris cannot help but worry.

***

“Are you alright?”

He leans in close to Yixing before running long fingers down his forearm, taking his hand. Yixing’s eyes are closed in what Kris can only imagine is pain. He bows to the audience with the other members before tearing Yixing away and leading him quickly down white walled corridors.

They find the change room eventually and Kris pries the sodden clothes off the shorter teen, rolling them up into a ball before running across to a duffel bag with a spare change. He brings them back and pulls them over Yixing’s head, letting out a groan of annoyance as Yixing’s throat constricts and he lets out a gut-wrenching sob.

“You care too much!” Yixing chastises him bitterly.

“You always worry for me too much! I’m a grown man, Wu Yifan, I can look after myself. This is what I wanted… to perform… But I couldn’t perform well today… And it wasn’t just the rain…”

Kris leans in close, frustration and concern evident in expressive brown eyes.

“What was it?” he asks, swallowing nervously.

Yixing hesitates, glaring at the floor as he pulls his wet and matted hair across his forehead in an attempt to make himself look at least a little more presentable. His cheeks colour slightly and his eyes don’t quite rise from the linoleum floor. He sniffles a little, nose prickling up cutely as Kris, flustered, reaches into the duffle bag for a small packet of plain white tissues, holding one up to Yixing’s face. Yixing lets out a groan of discomfort and swats his hand away.

“It was you! I hate you…”

Kris thinks he must have overstepped the invisible boundary. He lets out a frustrated sigh, stealing the space next to Yixing and turning himself away. His shirt is still sticking to his skin and his pants are saturated through, but he makes no move to remove them. The feeling of rejection makes his stomach churn.

“Wu Yifan?” Yixing asks aloud. Kris doesn’t have the heart to respond.

“Wu Yifan?”

He inhales sharply, picking himself up off the seat and dragging his lanky form across the room to give the other some space. He blinks back tears as he mumbles an apology, hoping that the wetness of his hair and the dripping of the rain down his skin is enough to hide the truth from the other members, who pile into the room mere seconds later. Kris is resigned.

“Wu Yifan?” Yixing repeats.

“What?” Kris snaps.

“All those things I hate about you… are the things I love about you! I love that you’re too caring of me! I love that you always know where my lost books are! I love that you are always there to pick me up! I… I…” Yixing stutters.

“I love you, Wu Yifan.”

Kris turns around, only to find lips pressed against his. His eyes widen in surprise as Yixing nibbles on Kris’s bottom lip, letting out an uncharacteristic gasp as lips part and Yixing’s tongue is exploring his mouth. Kris lets out a soft sigh, eyes shut as moans slip through his lips. Yixing pulls away all too quickly, his eyes exuding their usual softness. He nuzzles into Kris’s neck, wrapping arms around soft skin.

“Remember where we are, Wu Yifan,” he says with a chuckle.

Kris lets out a growl, his frustration never reaching his eyes. For Kris knows exactly what is to come his way once they’ve returned to their separate hotel rooms. He knows that Jongdae will leave their shared room in favour of sharing with Minseok, and Yixing has mentioned lightly his interest in bunking with a particularly soft and caring leader.