Practice keeps Yixing awake late into the night, so his only time to complete homework is during the day, most often with his friends keeping him on track. By himself, distractions are much more tempting, and it’s harder to resist his body’s restlessness while sitting in one place.

After a weekend catching up on sleep, he’s at Joonmyun’s family’s house with his laptop and textbooks and notes. Polite tea sits cold and abandoned on the coffee table by his knees.

“Does this sound okay?”

Joonmyun leans over Yixing's shoulder, reading the text on his screen. He nods slowly as he reads, then nods more firmly. “Yes. Very concise and understandable. Does it meet the wordcount?”

“Barely, but yes.”

“Hyung, what's concise mean?” Jongin's sitting behind them, playing with Joonmyun's dog.

As he explains, Joonmyun throws his arms around in wide gestures. “Instead of launching into a grand, complicated, looong explanation of something,” he drops his arms and shrugs, “you state it simply.”

“Oh.” The toddler returns to vigorously rubbing the dog's belly, laughing when its hind leg starts to kick.

“What class is this for?”Joonmyun watches his brother quietly for a minute—sometimes he doesn't know when to leave a dog alone, but Byul is patient and gentle, as always.

“Doctor Lee.”

“Yeah, he'll like it. I've had him a couple times.” Joonmyun folds his arms across the back of Yixing’s shoulders, not quite leaning with his full weight. “So you remember that girl I was telling you about, the new professor of ancient literature?” Yixing nods, distracted by his paper. “She asked me out for dinner this week.”

“Really? That's great!” Maybe he’ll stop pining so much, now.

“I'm sure it will be, if someone could watch my little brother.” He smiles hopefully, shooting love bullets at Yixing’s reflection to be cute. “Please? It won't be overnight; you know my style.”

Yixing looks over his shoulder at Jongin, who's now sprawled out on his back, using the dog as a pillow. He's a good kid and usually easy to deal with. Since their parents are dealing with setting old family affairs in order after a sudden death, Joonmyun had offered to stay with Jongin in the city, so he can continue going to school and see his friends. The older middle son, Jongdae, lives in a high school dorm, and Minseok, the oldest, lives overseas, in Europe.

“I think that'll be fine. Just let me know when.”

Joonmyun plants an obnoxious kiss on top of Yixing's head. “Thank you. You're the reason my social life still exists.”

Yixing is the reason he has a social life at all; he had introduced Joonmyun to his last two partners. Maybe that's why they didn't last. He and Joonmyun have very different tastes when it comes to dating, but Joonmyun is more willing to give anyone a chance.

A timer dings, and Jongin surges to his feet to run to the kitchen. “Hyung, food’s done!”

“No takeout tonight?” Cooking is not one of Joonmyun’s many skills. He can follow a recipe just fine; he just doesn’t like putting in the effort when he could be lounging around or playing with his brother.

“Jongin wanted this, so I made it. You’re welcome to leave, if you’re going to be condescending.”

Yixing smiles and saves his work, closing his laptop. “If I get food poisoning…”

“I’ll happily dump you on the sidewalk outside the hospital. Jongin, don’t touch anything!” The boy jumps and puts his hands behind his back.

Rather than grabbing an oven mitt, Joonmyun takes a kitchen towel and opens the oven. It doesn’t cover his whole hand—and even if it did, it’s neither thick nor insulating—and he flinches when the top of his hand brushes against the oven rack.

With creative, inoffensive cursing pouring from his lips, he grabs the pan, drops it on top of the stove, and draws cold water from the sink.

“Joonmyun, let me see.”

“It barely touched me; it’s fine, you don’t need to…” Yixing takes his hand and brings it to his lips. It’s barely a kiss, but Jongin watches, fascination and worry clear on his face. “You don’t need to waste magic on me. Especially when it probably would’ve healed in like a day.”

“If it’s you, it’s not a waste,” Yixing says with a dimpled smile. Joonmyun shows Jongin his healed hand, and the boy whoops, excitement eliciting a joyful bark from Byul.

They manage to eat without mishap, injury, or mess. Anything that falls to the floor is quickly hoovered up by Byul, stationed beside Jongin’s seat.

Dishes are piled into the dishwasher, and Jongin pushes his brother and friend to the sofa for a movie. Yixing does a little more with his paper but turns off his laptop when he sees Jongin watching his work more than the movie.

Byul is asleep before the movie finishes. Joonmyun stretches and slouches more comfortably. “Remember, Jongin, bathtime and bedtime after the movie—” He frowns and looks around in the darkened living room. “Okay, where’d he go? He has a bad habit of just disappearing...” A toilet flushes upstairs. “There he is.”

Yixing packs his things and says good night.

“Joonmyun hyung!” Jongin comes downstairs and hugs Yixing, then grabs his brother’s hand. With Joonmyun’s water magic, he can make a bath seem like the high seas and make really intricate designs with bubbles.

“Thanks again for,” Joonmyun waves his hand. “I’ll text you when I know what day we’re going out,” he says while Yixing pulls on his shoes. Jongin’s pulling his arm, and they say their final goodbyes.

Two days later, he wakes up to a text with details from Joonmyun about his impending date. He doesn’t need to know everything his friend sends him, but he’s happy that Joonmyun is happy, and he loves Jongin enough to look forward to hanging out with him Thursday for an afternoon.

That Thursday, Yixing is waiting for Jongin on the covered steps of the school when classes let out. Older children run out first, yelling at the light rain and ducking under friends’ umbrellas for shelter. His own umbrella is tapping between his knees against the cement planter he’s sitting on, still dry. He doesn’t mind a little rain, but he doesn’t want Jongin getting sick.

Finally, the students leaving the building and greeting their relatives are from Jongin’s grade, then his class. Jongin shuffles out almost last; the others eagerly rush around him.

“Jongin?” The boy ducks his face into his jacket, held in his arms and hugged tightly. He looks like he’s about to cry.

Yixing slides from his perch and crouches beside Jongin, gently taking his elbow. “Did something happen? Should hyung...call Joonmyun?”

Jongin shakes his head. He knows his brother has a date tonight. Joonmyun hyung was really excited and even asked Jongin what he should wear. Hyung has some ugly shirts, but Jongin picked the least ugly.

This is the part of babysitting Yixing doesn’t like. He’s okay with kids in general, better in a group where he doesn’t have to talk with any one child, but once they’re moody and upset, he doesn’t know what to do or how to handle them. He’s an only child and the youngest among his cousins; he didn’t grow up learning how to approach the tantrums and mood swings like Joonmyun did, with two younger siblings.

Jongin’s teacher walks outside with a straggler, patting her hair and watching fondly as the little girl carefully climbs down the steps and hugs her father’s legs. When the teacher notices Jongin and Yixing, her smiles falls a little into something like s sympathetic frown.

“Are you feeling any better, Jongin?” She, too, crouches down, folding her skirt beneath her thighs. Jongin shakes his head and holds his jacket tighter, but he lets her gently open his arms. “Let’s put your jacket on, so you don’t get wet in the rain, okay? One arm, please...and the other one...there.” She zips it partway and lets her hand rest on his shoulder. He shrugs it off and puts his arms around Yixing’s neck.

“Did something happen today?” he asks. He doesn’t want to call Joonmyun when he’s so excited, but his friend will always put his little brothers before himself. Yixing wants him to be able to do something for himself without having to worry, though.

“We had a project to draw what we want to be when we grow up, and Jongin drew a really lovely picture of a ballet dancer. Some of the students don’t understand that both women and men dance ballet and . I’d hoped I’d gotten through to them, but Jongin’s still understandably upset.” She picks at a part of his hair sticking up, twisting it until it sits flat. “I think your dream is amazing, Jongin. Thank you for sharing it with us.”

Jongin sniffs.

Yixing puts his arms behind Jongin’s legs and stands, wincing a little at the jolt of pain across his lower back and shifting him to a hip so he can carry him and hold the umbrella. “Thank you for looking after Jongin, teacher.” He bows as much as he can without dropping the boy, although his hold tightens around Yixing’s neck.

The woman bows in return and gently pats Jongin’s back. “He’s a pleasure to have in class. I’ll do my best to help my other students understand his feelings.” She squints at the sky and sighs. “Stay dry, alright? We don’t want anyone getting sick.”

On days with nicer weather, Yixing may take Jongin to the park to run around or to an arcade. Sometimes, they’d just head straight for Yixing’s apartment, when Jongin was too exhausted to even stay awake. He’s not sure what to do about a crying kid, though.

“What do you think, Jongin? Want to head back for a nap?” Jongin shakes his head, turning away from him with a shuddery sigh. “Should we see what games are available at the arcade?” He shakes his head again. Stopping for a traffic light, Yixing adjusts his grip and thinks. If it was him, he’d dance until he couldn’t walk. As a little kid, he probably pounded away at the piano or ran laps around the neighborhood. Dance is kinda of why Jongin’s upset, he doesn’t know how to play instruments, and it’s too wet to be running.

The light changes, and Yixing merges with the migrating crowd, careful to avoid the puddle in the gutter. His apartment is to the left, but to the right, about a block away, is a street of cafes and bakeries and confectioneries. There’s a place Jongin likes that Joonmyun’s talked about; they make custom cakes as well as displays of cookies, brownies, crepes, and just about any sweet treat imaginable.

Yixing doesn’t say anything when he turns to the right. Jongin doesn’t say anything or doesn’t notice, too involved with his wallowing.

A ribbon of bells ring when the door opens, and Yixing shakes out his umbrella before letting the door close behind him. The black mat is already pretty much soaked through from the wet feet of previous patrons, and a yellow caution sign warns about the wet floor.

“Jonginnie,” Yixing says softly. The boy mumbles; he’d fallen into a doze. “How about a snack before going home?”

Jongin's favorite treat is a chocolate and vanilla cake arranged to look like a teddy bear's face. The eyes, nose, and mouth are drawn in chocolate, and the muzzle, made of a smaller dome of cake, is lightened with powdered sugar. A chocolate ribbon is “tied” around its neck. It's perfect, and he loves sharing it with Yixing, but today it's been erased from the menu and isn't on its usual bottom shelf of the display case.

“Hyung, the bears are gone!” Jongin leans against the glass, looking left and right, but he can't see his delicious bears.

“Maybe they ran out, Jongin,” Yixing says. “Other people enjoy the bears, too.”

“But!” He looks at Yixing with wet eyes. “But they're gone!”

“Isn't there something else you'd like to try? This strawberry cake looks good, doesn't it?” Jongin shakes his head. Yixing points to another chocolate cake, with green icing standing up like the fronds of a succulent. “This one looks like hyung's plant.”

“It'll hurt!”

No matter what treat Yixing points out, Jongin shakes his head and pouts more and more until he can't hold in his tears. Most everything has whipped topping, and while Jongin loves the cream on fruit, he hates it on cake. Scraping it off doesn't cut it.

Usually, he's very good about not crying, or when he does cry, it's quiet tears, but the absence of the bear cakes is so devastating to a three-and-a-half-year-old that he tilts his head back and wails at the ceiling.

Thankfully, there are few patrons in the cafe, and most are concerned young women and girls who look torn between approaching the crying toddler and leaving out of embarrassment.

Yixing's ready to grab Jongin and leave, too, but at the first breathless sob a young man looks out from a doorway to the left, leading to a room marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. He's wearing the uniform of the cafe—jeans without holes and a pale green T-shirt with LIGHT OF YOUR LIFE BAKERY over a cupcake and holy light screen printed in white over the left . His black apron is peppered with white powder, probably flour or sugar. Crouching behind the counter, he knocks on the glass case to get Jongin's attention and waves.

He stays low, walking awkwardly around the counter and through the low swinging door. “Hey, bud,” he greets softly. “You okay?”

Jongin's sobs quiet to sniffly hiccups, and he hides his face against Yixing's legs, his shyness overwhelming his sadness.

Yixing apologizes, petting Jongin's soft black hair. “He really loves the bear cakes. I didn't think he'd throw such a tantrum, though.”

“Yeah, Kyungsoo's cakes are really popular. He’s a baking wizard,” he says wondrously. “He's been working on catering for his brother's wedding party, though, so he's not been here for a couple days, and I just cannot make anything like he does. What's in the case,” he waves to it, ”is what I have to offer.

“However,” he continues in a conspiratorial tone, leaning over his knees. “I am currently working on something that I think is pretty special. It's totally new, and I've never made it before, so I need someone who really appreciates cakes to try it for me.” Jongin's watching him warily and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Yixing pulls a tissue from his backpack and crouches down to hold it to the boy's nose, telling him to blow. “Would you do me a really really big favor and try my cake for me?” He puts his hands together. “Pretty please?”

Jongin's still shy, but he's watching the man with open curiosity. Yixing can tell he wants to know what the new cake is. “What do you think, Jongin? You want to help him?” Finally, he nods, and the young man smiles brightly.

“Yes! Thank you so much! You're saving my life here. I'll go finish it now; how about you sit with your hyung and wait just fifteen minutes?” He points to the wrought iron clock centered on the wall. “When that big hand is on the five.” Jongin nods and even laughs a little when the baker does his awkward, short-legged waddle back behind the counter.

Yixing straightens and takes Jongin's hand. They sit at a table where Jongin can watch the door behind the counter as well as the clock. Thankfully, the other patrons have returned their attention to their own food and company. People come and go with only a passing glance their way .Yixing takes out a coloring book and a notebook filled with highlighted notes and reads, looking up every couple of minutes to check on Jongin.

He's being patient, kicking his legs back and forth and scribbling carefully chosen colors into his coloring book.

Finally, the baker returns with a small plate. In the very center sits a cake about the size of a soup can. It's covered in smooth white fondant. In the sunlight, however, Yixing notices it's not entirely smooth; the fondant has been sort of lightly rippled and layered to look like a mountainous landscape. A trio of fondant bears run around the base of the cake.

“This cake,” he introduces, “is very special. It doesn't look like much on the outside, huh?” He looks at Jongin, who nods slowly, nervously watching the baker’s reaction. “It is kinda plain. Most everything is white. It's all snow, and these bears,” he turns the plate to show the tiny bears, “have lost something very important—their happiness. All the color is gone, with this snow covering everything, but they think if the dig far enough...” He takes a long knife and carefully cuts into the cake, removing a sliver to set on another plate. Jongin exclaims loudly and climbs onto his knees for a better look. “They'll find color and be happy again.”

The inside of the cake is layered like a rainbow, starting from purple and descending to red with white frosting in-between. The bottom layers are void in the middle, creating a hollow space for tiny rainbow sprinkles. When cut open, the sprinkles spill out, and there are enough that some fall onto the table over Yixing's notes.

“Hyung, look!” Jongin picks the bear off his slice of cake and walks it through the sprinkles. They stick to its feet. “He's happy, again!”

“Have a taste,” the man urges. He cuts another piece and sets it by Yixing. He's not usually a sweets person, but he's curious if it tastes like it looks. After watching Jongin stab a piece of spongy red cake and shove it in his mouth, he takes a fork and cuts his so both purple and blue are on his fork.

“Vanilla?”

“Yeah. It's easier to dye, although I may try to make a chocolate version, too. I thought doing all different flavors would be too much.” The display window has cakes from all letters of the alphabet, carrot to lemon, lavender to white chocolate. Sometimes simplicity is best.

“What do you think, Jongin? Do you like it?”

“Yeah! It's yummy!” A sprinkle sticks to the corner of his mouth, but it falls when he shovels a piece of green cake, rolled in more sprinkles, into his mouth. This probably means he is not going to sleep anytime soon, but a hyper Jongin is better than a crying Jongin.

“Thank him for sharing with you.”

Jongin turns shy again, mumbling his thanks around his fork.

“You're welcome, but I have to thank you, too, for helping me out. Like I said, Kyungsoo, the other baker, is a baking wizard, so he always has the perfect amount of ingredients. No matter what. I still rely on recipes and measurements and do mess up now and then. I’m glad this turned out, though. Good guinea pigs are so hard to find, sometimes.” He and Yixing smile when Jongin looks confused. “Now I just have to figure out a name. What's yours?” He turns to Yixing suddenly.

He forgets his name for a moment—he couldn’t tell before, but there’s a tiny mole over the baker’s lip, and it’s very cute—but Jongin saves him. “Yixing hyung!”

“Uh—Zhang Yixing; this is Jongin.”

“Yixing. I'm Byun—” He touches his chest, slaps around for something, and finds a nametag hanging by its open pin to his front pocket. Reattaching it to the top of his apron, he grins sheepishly. “Byun Baekhyun. This is my cafe—or it will be, once my brother transfers the title to me. He's opening up a new place where he lives with his wife.” He looks at Yixing's notes. “You're a student?”

“Studying for my masters in music production.”

“Show business, huh? My condolences. A friend of mine is a starving singer.” Jongin picks up stray sprinkles with the fondant bear's feet again, looking torn but eating it anyway.

“Hyung sings really good,” Jongin informs proudly. His eyes shine when he adds, “He dances, too! He moves like pah! and shoo!” Baekhyun laughs at Jongin's imitation of popping and locking with sound effects.

“He must be amazing! I wish I could see, sometime.”

“Hyung dances in shows ‘n stuff...he was even on TV!”

“Wow! So maybe I have seen you!” His eyes sparkle, if that’s an actual thing. Yixing’s never seen eyes do that before.

He shakes his head. “Probably not. It was in China, where I’m from.” Rather than staying on the topic of himself, which can very quickly get embarrassing, especially with Jongin, who’s mind-to-mouth filter has not yet developed, he brushes cake crumbs and sprinkles into a pile beside his plate and dumps them into a napkin. “You're very good with children,” he observes. “Do you have any of your own? Or younger siblings?”

“Neither!” Baekhyun shrugs. “I just like them, I guess. I kinda understand them more because I'm patient? Comes with working with fondant and candy. I do have little cousins now, though. I was always the baby growing up.” He gestures to Jongin, happily scraping frosting off his plate with his fork, with a lift of his chin. “He's not yours, is he?”

“He is my friend's youngest brother. I'm looking after Jongin today.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s nice of you.” He tickles Jongin’s cheek until the boy giggles and swats at his hand. “Do you like your Yixing hyung?”

“Yeah.”

“More than your hyung?”

“Ye—” Jongin catches himself and frowns. It’s an important question. A thinking question. He cups his chin on his hand with his elbow on the table and looks at Yixing thoughtfully. “I’ve never thought about it before,” he admits. Baekhyun bites his tongue and hides a smile behind his hand. “You’re Xing hyung, ‘n Joonmyun hyung is Joonmyun hyung.”

“What about me, Jonginnie? Do you like me or Yixing hyung more?”’

Jongin looks at him, still holding his chin. “You’re good at baking,” he says firmly, an allowance for their friendship.

Baekhyun laughs. “I’ll take it as a high compliment! You’re a fan of Kyungsoo’s baking, after all. I’ll have to call him tonight to brag.” He his bottom lip and sighs. “I’ve got to get back to work before something burns in back. Thank you both for coming and trying my cake. I’ll get a box, so you can take the rest home and share it with your Joonmyun hyung.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry; you did me a favor.” He refuses Yixing’s card when he returns with a cake box and packs up the remaining cake. There’s a frown drawing his eyebrows together as he tries to figure out how to lift the cake without losing the sprinkles, but he shrugs and puts the whole thing—plate and all—into the box. “There! And because you were kind of inconvenienced, and it’s totally Kyungsoo’s fault, come back sometime in a week or so. He’ll be back, and you can get any cake you want, okay?”

“Thank you,” Jongin says shyly.

Baekhyun walks them to the door and holds the door open for a couple older women with a bow. Jongin fumbles a bit with the zipper of his jacket but manages, and Yixing opens the umbrella just outside the door. It’s still drizzling. Jongin’s more in a mood to stomp through puddles, now.

“I hope to see you again, too,” Baekhyun remarks softly, looking at Yixing. His eyes are still sparkling, but it may be the light refracting off rain drops or something.

Jongin tugs his arm but looks at Baekhyun. “We should come with Joonmyun hyung!”

“I’d like to meet your hyung!”

Before they can start another drawn-out goodbye, Yixing gently pulls Jongin out of the doorway so a man and boy can exit. “Let’s get going, Jongin. We can’t stand in doorways. Thanks again.”

“Anytime.” Baekhyun smiles and lets the door close, waving to Jongin.

Jongin steps in every puddle he comes across. Yixing lifts him up when the puddle looks too deep.

“You feeling better?” he asks after a bit of walking. They turn at the corner to head towards Yixing’s apartment. The rain lightens up even more, so patches of blue show between the clouds.

“Yeah! I like Baekhyun hyung.” He hops into a small puddle with minimal splash. “And his cake.” A slightly bigger puddle has a more satisfying splash, and Yixing plans on changing into dry pants once he’s home. “Did you like him?”

Yixing recalls a cute mole over Cupid’s bow and sparkling eyes. Superficially, Baekhyun is very cute. He also expressed great kindness, though, and easily healed Jongin’s hurting heart like Yixing never could.

“I did like him.”

---

a/n: Written for HealingLight Fest. (prompt no.24 Yixing has to watch Jongin while he's trying to study for his final exam, so he goes to the cafe that has Jongin's favorite dessert...except for today. Baekhyun is the lovely cafe owner who has the magical ability to silence crying children (A.K.A. Jongin is the best wingman ever).")

Magic, although not at all central to this story, is common. They're like quirks in BNHA, basically, and I would love to have Kyungsoo's.