Yi Xing gives Kris his trademark half-smile as he turns away from the window. There’s something not quite right about the way he holds his mouth, but Kris says nothing. He doesn’t want hurt Yi Xing any more than Yi Xing has already hurt himself.

“I’m fine.” He mouths the words, but Kris does not believe him. It is impossible to believe that he is fine, because Yi Xing is never fine anymore.

Not since – well, they don’t talk about that. Yi Xing refuses to say a word about it.

“Okay,” Kris says instead, as if he accepts the words and is not worried about Yi Xing’s clenched fists. “You’ll be alright by yourself then?”

Yi Xing does not trust himself to say the word yes and mean it, so he nods instead. He does not look up to meet Kris’ searching gaze.

“I’ll be back soon.” His friend tells him. “I’ll bring food.” Yi Xing gives him another tight smile, as if he is pleased by this idea and will actually eat the food. Kris knows he won’t.

But they like to pretend.

Yi Xing takes a deep breath, unclenches his hands so that he can press his palms together and interlock his fingers. It’s one of his many nervous habits. “Kris?” He says.

The man in question blinks at him. He assumes that is an indication to carry on. “If you see him, will you tell him I’m fine?”

Kris swallows. “Of course.”

The smile Yi Xing gives him is a little more convincing, this time.

***

In the days before Yi Xing was broken, he was the happiest person Kris knew. Kris could bear this unending happiness because Yi Xing was not one of those who displayed their contentment in an overly exuberant manner – not, for example, like Chanyeol.

In those days, Yi Xing was in love.

He still is.

That’s part of the problem.

A/N: I may extend this one later on. Kris is meant to be a sort of psychopomp, a link between the living and the dead. Obviously, that's not clear here, but in my head I'm still sorting out the idea. .-.