Life had to go on no matter what Yifan was going through. He had to keep working and doing what he did and make a living. Even when he was not working he was still working, going clubbing frequently in order to mingle with potential clients and people in the industry. As long as he was in the right place he was convinced he would meet the right people. And alcohol always helped whenever he was trying to socialize, but tonight he kind of wanted more to get drunk than to build connections. If he was drunk then he would not have to worry about anything. And he could really use a few moments of peace even if his liver had to pay the price.
So by the time it was 2 or 3 — he was not really sure — he staggered out of the club. It should be cold outside, but he was barely feeling it. He was a slave to the alcohol in his system, barely able to stay on his feet. He would totally have fallen to his knees if not for the ever-reliable lamp posts and fences on the side of the streets that he could cling to. Walking a straight line? Out of the question. Oh heck, he wanted to throw up. He felt like he could, any minute. He could tell, from the way he was salivating. He was convinced that he was going to throw up, utterly unceremoniously, on the streets. Ew. Gross. Luckily there was nobody around that he was trying to impress. No potential one-night-stand, no potential client, no venture capitalist. None of that. What a relief. Phew. All better now. Time to take a deep breath and make his way home. Wherever that was. Maybe it would be a good idea to hail a cab. Yeah. Breathe. Breathe. He could feel that urge again, the dreadful urge to vomit. He needed to lie down. But he could not do that on the streets, or could he? His knees gave in eventually and he fell, but that that did not even register until he found himself wondering why he was so close to the ground. Immediately a passerby had rushed to see if he was alright. But not just any passerby. After all, who would still be on the streets at this hour of the day? Probably only extraordinarily assiduous students like Yixing would still stay in the library to study, and not go home if not for food.
Having run out of snacks, Yixing had to leave his beloved library and head home, and as usual he would pass by a bunch of clubs that he did not know Yifan frequented. All he saw was that Yifan was collapsing and drunk as hell.
“Hey, Yifan! Are you okay!” Yixing tried to help him up, allowing the much taller man to lean on him for some much needed support (and in many ways too).
Rather than answering Yixing’s question, Yifan pouted. “I must be sleepwalking,” he concluded, slurring his words. “The most perfect man in the world is right next to me. Woohoo! Hahahaha,” he giggled dryly, a series of weak chuckles leaving his mouth. He then held up a finger and waved it about as if he were counting something. “Whoa,” he cried out loudly suddenly. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! There are...THREE of him!” He exclaimed in drunken euphoria. “Three Yixings!” He burst into laughter. “That’s amaxing!”
Yixing sighed, deciding there was not much point in trying to have a conversation with Yifan. Thinking on his feet and seeing as the student dorms was the closest and the safest, Yixing used all the energy he had to haul Yifan to his room.
When Yifan regained consciousness for a moment, he found himself in bed but it was definitely not his own. He did not know whose, but he did know that it smelled hella nice. And so, even though he was not quite sober enough to try to find out how the hell he got here, he allowed his sleepiness to overcome him and he resumed sleeping. Peacefully too, and considering how sleep-deprived he had been, he really needed that good night of slumber.
It was Yixing who woke up first, in the morning. He spent a moment staring lovingly at Yifan’s sleeping form before slowly getting up and making his way to the bathroom, careful not to make too much noise in an attempt to maintain this silence and utter darkness for Yifan. Yixing had no classes to attend today, so he quietly sat down his desk. He had already made a list in his mind of what he had to accomplish today, but he could only go ahead with his day after figuring out what to do with Yifan, who did not look like he was about to wake up any time soon.
Absentmindedly, Yixing sat back, forgetting that his chair was surely going to produce unpleasant squeaks. As expected, the loud noise had made Yifan stir. Startled, Yixing whispered a quick apology, but Yifan was awake now. And so Yixing thought he might as well open the curtains. The light made Yifan squint, but above that he was perplexed.
“Uh...good morning,” Yifan began tentatively, his throat itchy and dry. He ran a hand through his hair, thankful that this time his hangover was not too serious. His he