“I…”

JongIn’s eyes wouldn’t leave YiXing’s living-room table, his lips pressed into a thin line. YiXing waited patiently for JongIn to continue talking.

It had taken almost a week before JongIn finally contacted YiXing to meet up again. Since YiXing had finished his article early, he wasn’t exactly working to a deadline, so he ended up spending his empty time accompanying Amber on another photoshoot. She kept grumbling about him suddenly changing his subject and having to take more pictures and tweak them properly for the spreads. YiXing ceased her complaints with souvenirs from home.

“How was your vacation?” she had asked between popping gobs of candy in , one after the other.

“It was fine,” he had replied simply.

“Hmmm…?” Amber stared at YiXing’s face for a while.

He frowned. “What?”

“Nothing. What about that kid from before. JongIn, you said? He went with you, right?”

“Yeah. He’s alright. He had fun.”

“Hmmm…?”

YiXing frowned again. “What?” he demanded this time.

The llama lips merely quirked upward. “Nothing.”

Her expression only became smugger when YiXing’s phone buzzed with the text message from JongIn himself. YiXing told her to get lost.

“I just realized…” JongIn’s low voice suddenly brought YiXing back to the present. “… this happened three years ago.” When YiXing didn’t reply, JongIn looked up at him through his bangs. “It’s stupidly ironic.”

JongIn didn’t look any better from when he stepped off the plane. He almost seemed as if he had reverted back to when YiXing first met him, except he seemed even more listless and defeated. His slouch was heavy, his lips pulled down by the same weight. YiXing couldn’t even describe what wretched emotion inspired JongIn’s expression.

JongIn’s gaze fell again. “Three years ago… My parents and my nuna flew out to England. Nuna was about to start university out there, and my parents wanted to go and help her get settled in the dorm. I wanted to go, too, but I had exams to study for.”

One leg began to nervously twitch. “They… were flying back. But there was a storm. The pilot kept circling around, trying to land, but the airport kept telling him it was too dangerous. And that idiot… That stupid idiot…”

He was slowly losing it. YiXing didn’t even consider when he reached across the sofa where they both sat and rested a hand on JongIn’s knee. The gesture made JongIn’s hands twitch.

“The plane was blown off the runway when it landed, caught on the grass, flipped a few times. Everyone in the plane died.”

YiXing’s fingertips pressed on JongIn’s leg, and suddenly JongIn was gripping his small hand in both of his, clutching as if he was falling away and trying to hold on for dear life, an echo of when they were caught in the plane. He tried to readjust his sitting position – the sideways pose he had been in was slowly beginning to cut off circulation in his left leg – but the slightest movement made JongIn’s hold even tighter with desperation. YiXing conceded, letting one large hand move to grip his forearm.

“It’s not like I was the only one…” JongIn was almost talking through gritted teeth. “There were three of us in my school… They pulled all of us out of class after it happened. SeoYoung and KangJoo. Her uncle and his brother. They wouldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t deal with it. I can’t deal with it…”

The tears were falling again as JongIn caved in on himself. YiXing reached around the youth’s neck with his other hand and gently pulled until JongIn’s forehead was resting in the slope between his neck and shoulder. JongIn really broke down, then, the hand that had remained at YiXing’s wrist releasing to twist in the mentor’s shirt.

“It’s okay,” YiXing said quietly. “You’ll be okay.”

He let JongIn continue to weep away until his voice, marred from sobbing and snot, broke through the silence.

“Why are you shaking?”

YiXing tried not to laugh. “I’m really ticklish on my neck, and you breathing there doesn’t make it any better.”

A weak laugh burst from JongIn’s mouth, earning a reflexive shudder down YiXing’s spine. He felt his shirt being released as JongIn slowly sat upright, sloppily wiping at his face with the back of his hand. YiXing reached behind him to the side table and returned with a box of tissue.

“I think I’m done making an embarrassment of myself, now,” JongIn muttered, plucking up two sheets to blow his nose. “I thought I’d be over it by now… three years and all…”

“Losing your whole family in one go isn’t something you can so easily forget, JongIn.”

“I was gross.”

“It was endearing,” YiXing replied, smoothing out his T-shirt. “I’m glad, though, now that I know more about you than just you not liking coffee.”

JongIn made a face. “Endearing…?”

“Was that the wrong word? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s whatever. You’re the guy with the words.”

YiXing waited for a beat. “Why didn’t you tell me about the accident before?”

Sniffing, JongIn shook his head. “I hate talking about it. It always turns into a pity party. I hate that. And I know – ” JongIn swiftly jabbed a finger forward just as YiXing was about to interrupt. “ – you’re gonna say something like ‘I wouldn’t have made you get on the plane’ or whatever, and I hate that even more. I’m glad I got to go… hyung. Even if it was the most traumatizing flight ever.”

The playful grin on JongIn’s face made YiXing smile as well. “I’m glad,” YiXing echoed. “I’m glad I brought you along.” He settled back on the sofa. “So that’s why you live with your aunt. Ah… Is that why you fell behind in school, too?”

“What are you, the FBI or something?”

“No, that’s YiFan-gege.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. I didn’t care for the rest of the school year, and neither did the school. I had to deal with all the legal nonsense, too.”

JongIn curled his legs up onto the sofa cushions, drawing his knees to his chest as he leaned sideways into the back cushion. In a similar fashion, YiXing propped his head up on an elbow that dug into the sofa, crossing his legs beneath him. He gazed unashamedly at the kid across from him, and JongIn stared straight back.

“I’m tired,” JongIn finally said. “I’m tired of feeling like this every May.”

YiXing could feel the emptiness and weakness exuding from JongIn’s being, and he murmured, “I know.”

JongIn stared straight back at YiXing’s vacant expression. Neither of the two uttered a spoken word for a long time.

“I also… wanted to tell you…” JongIn said suddenly, shifting in his position. “School is starting again on Monday. Summer break is over.”

“Oh… Oh.” YiXing had completely forgotten.

“Yeah, so… I won’t really be as free as I was before…”

Grinning, YiXing chucked a pillow at JongIn’s face. “Yah, did you think I’d get lonely without you? I have to get back to work, too. Besides, cell phones and weekends still exist.”

“Hyung, this is for you.”

JunMyeon broke his gaze from empty space – because he definitely wasn’t focused on the work he was supposed to be doing – and looked up at YiXing standing over him, dangling a bag just a breath away from his face.

“Oh…? What? Oh, this is for me?” His face broke into a polite grin. “Thank you, YiXing-sshi.”

“Hmmm, it’s not from me.”

“Eh?”

YiXing strolled out of the Marketing office, leaving a baffled JunMyeon behind. KiBum had been lurking at the door and vaulted himself inside when YiXing passed to snoop on the mystery gift. Amidst laughing at JunMyeon yelling at KiBum to go away and ignoring the sullen looks of the other office mates who didn’t get a souvenir, YiXing quietly found his way back to his own desk beside BaekHyun’s. The hamster himself was yawning and rubbing at his beady eyes.

“Morning,” he muttered.

“I see you’re bright and cheery as always,” YiXing replied, giving BaekHyun a teasing poke on the cheek.

BaekHyun grunted. “Same to you. You’re weird.”

Just as YiXing was about to interject about y times the night before work, he was loudly interrupted by a certain KiBum squawking, “That’s not even your color! How dense! So rude!” This was followed by a jumble of words and a forceful slam of a door. Unicorn and hamster peered over to see KiBum stalking away from the Marketing office; another member of the department, HyungRok, stared dumbly at the closed door in front of his nose.

“What have you done?” BaekHyun whispered.

“It was a gift from China,” YiXing said. “I didn’t do anything.”

“No!” He was caught by surprise at BaekHyun’s violent reaction, swiveling in his chair and hamster eyes threatening to bug out of his skull. “What have you done?!”

“… What?”

“That was from JongDae, wasn’t it?!”

“It may have been.”

“Noooooooo…” BaekHyun crumpled atop his desk dramatically. “No, YiXing-hyung, no! Now I’ll never hear the end of it from JunMyeon-hyung! I’m gonna run out of text messages this month, and my billing cycle’s just started! Noooooo…”

YiXing just gave off a placid smile, opening his laptop and notebook. “Or you could just be a good friend and listen to him coo.”

“Don’t wanna. What the…” BaekHyun leaned over. “Is that all you did during your vacation?”

YiXing spared a glance while BaekHyun thumbed through the cartoon-esc doodles. “Oh, no, that was JongIn. My drawings are much better than that.”

“Hmmm…?”

The tone and inflection was much like Amber’s response. YiXing scowled. “What?”

“Nothing.” BaekHyun turned back to his own computer, returning to playing with various swatches.

“What’s up?”

“Hm?” JongIn looked up from his cell phone. “Oh…”

YiXing cocked his head sideways. “You look sad about something.”

“Eh? No, I’m not sad.” The lower lip pushed out farther than the top lip said otherwise.

“So… What’s up?”

“… It’s nothing. KyungSoo-hyung met up with his old girlfriend. They’re back together.”

An impish grin spread on YiXing’s face. “What about it? Are you jealous?”

JongIn started. “No! Why would I be jealous?!”

“I didn’t say anything about you being jealous over KyungSoo. You could be jealous over the fact that you’re still single.”

“… Shut up.”

The duo was back to their meet-ups, leisurely sitting in coffee shops or strolling about the city. YiXing asked about school, and JongIn replied it’s boring. JongIn asked about work, and YiXing replied it’s the usual. A philosophical discussion would pop up every now and then until they got distracted by one thing or another.

JongIn tried to change up the routine, sometimes asking if YiXing wanted to see some new movie that had just hit the theater or if he wanted to go to the PC-bang to blow up aliens.

“I spend my whole week staring at a computer screen,” YiXing replied laughing. “Why would I want to look at more screens on my weekend?”

JongIn chucked a balled-up straw wrapper at his face in reply.

Sometimes, they ended up going to see that movie or perusing the aisles of a bookstore, poking one book at the other to wonder if the content was any good or not. Usually, they went for lunch or dinner – or both – and sometimes, if it was still early, they’d trail back to YiXing’s apartment to watch a movie on YiXing’s dusty DVD player.

“Who still has DVDs, anyway?” JongIn commented, thumbing through YiXing’s collection.

“Who still has VHSs, anyway?” YiXing countered.

“Museums might.”

Speaking of Mysterious Threes, it happened about three weeks before YiXing’s birthday.

It was one of those moments where there’s a terrifying anxiety sitting at the bottom of your stomach after getting up in the morning, knowing something abysmal was going to happen that day, and you were none-too-eager to get out and have to deal with it.

But JongIn was bouncing around like a puppy again, so who was YiXing to deny going out?

“I don’t get literature,” JongIn said airily. “It’s like, who’s to say that old person really was thinking all that deep stuff while writing? Maybe he really was just writing about a crane looking for lunch.”

YiXing laughed. “Who in their right mind would just write about a crane eating lunch?”

“Hey, I would! I’d make it interesting without all the stupid deep meanings.”

“Your future as a novelist is about as promising as your future as a cartoonist.”

“But you like my drawings.” JongIn bopped YiXing’s side with an elbow. “Said they’re cute.”

“I suppose. I’ll have to judge your writing ability to see if it balances with your drawing.”

“Yah, that. I could see JongDae-hyung buying that.”

YiXing followed JongIn’s gesture, pursing his lips in thought. “True. I also see JongDae buying it but not wearing it.”

“Hah, what a waste.”

The two were prowling the streets of Seoul again, taking a break from pictures on screens to aimlessly strolling through an open-air shopping strip. The Chinese shopping bug seemed to have rubbed off on JongIn; the kid seemed to always want to go out and shop even if he wasn’t buying anything. The trips usually consisted of one or the other spotting something, toying with the idea of buying it, and finally being convinced that he didn’t actually need it.

“The poor-man’s tactic,” JongIn had joked, abandoning a very tempting cell phone case and a disgruntled vendor to go with it.

YiXing had started lagging behind when he paused to look over an arrangement of shirts, apparently a Japanese brand. As soon as the vendor spied YiXing taking longer than a half-second to view her wares, she instantly jumped over and bombarded him with her sales pitch. JongIn didn’t seem to have noticed, continuing his leisurely stroll.

The shout caught both men’s attentions.

“JongIn-hyung? JongIn-hyung!”

YiXing was still a bit away, held up by the pushy saleswoman, but he could see as another youth sidled up to JongIn. He was about the same height, hair bleached to death with some shade of faded cotton-candy pink, and face pulled back in a bewildered grin. Even from where he stood, YiXing could see as JongIn stiffened.

“I’m sorry, I think I’ll pass,” YiXing finally said to the lady. “Thank you, though.”

“Oi, it’s on sale!” she screeched as YiXing finally broke away.

He had just gotten close enough to hear the other kid continuing to talk. “Yah, I haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”

“Ah… I’ve been good…”

On a normal day, YiXing would have scolded JongIn’s poor grammar, but JongIn was retreating back into his shell, cowering for whatever reason, and YiXing stopped himself from talking. The other kid took notice of YiXing’s presence.

“Who’s this?” he asked lightly. “Your…?”

JongIn seemed to snap out of it. “Oh. This is… YiXing. He’s my friend.”

“Hmmm…?” There was that stupid inflection again. “I see.”

Another voice. The sound of it turned YiXing’s internal organs completely into ice.

“SeHun-ah! What’s up?”

A fourth person trotted up to join the group at a standstill in the middle of the bustling strip. His face was playful as he took in the sight of SeHun (apparently that was the kid’s name), then JongIn, then…

“Oh, JongIn-hyung…”

Three years didn’t seem to have had on effect. The only thing that had changed was his hair: from caramel brown to a matching, faded cotton-candy pink. He still had huge, droopy eyes that wrinkled in the corners from his gaping smile. Maybe he lost weight, too?

“… this is my boyfriend…”

The smile faded as he settled his gaze on YiXing, eyes widening slightly.

“… Lu Han.”

It seemed like the only person breathing was SeHun. He looked a bit baffled at everyone’s reaction, but JongIn broke the spell, awkwardly bowing and greeting Lu Han. Lu Han snapped out of his own reverie, smiling and greeting JongIn back. He kept his gaze from bouncing back to YiXing who hadn’t bothered to move a muscle.

Whatever words which were traded after that went in one ear and out the other, and at some point, SeHun was turning away while waving a farewell. YiXing couldn’t help but notice an arm come up to snake around Lu Han’s waist and an opposite arm reaching up to cling to the back of SeHun’s shirt. YiXing and JongIn remained in their places, immobile stumps.

Finally, YiXing broke. “You want dinner? Let’s go eat.”

The heat and smoke and scent of barbecue in the air was stifling, causing JongIn to shrug out of his light jacket. September was getting cold. YiXing felt even colder.

Neither of the two spoke, too lost in their own thoughts, even when the food arrived. Normally, they would eat voraciously. Today, they slowly, silently picked their way through everything. JongIn only shook his head whenever YiXing offered to pour for him.

“Why bother, huh, JongIn-ah?”

“Hm.”

“He can do whatever he wants. If he wants to go bald by the time he hits thirty, whatever.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, can it, JongIn! You’re a ing rock tumbler!”

“Wha…?”

It was only then that JongIn took note of the tall – empty – glass bottle perched on the table between them, the last of the alcohol being tipped from a shot glass down YiXing’s throat. The sight didn’t quite register at first, but then JongIn’s eyes grew wide as he recalled advice the King Angry Bird had shared. He painfully realized YiXing had ingested the whole thing by himself.

“Yah… YiXing-hyung…”

YiXing blatantly ignored JongIn as he turned to shout over his shoulder. “Another bottle, please, thanks, yeah!”

JongIn reached out to pull on YiXing’s sleeve. “YiXing-hyung, don’t drink anymore…”

Annoyed, YiXing swatted at JongIn’s hand. “I will drink if I damn well please thank you very much go away.”

If he were sober (or less of a lightweight), YiXing would’ve seen JongIn recoil and checked his stupidity, but he paid no mind, thanking the waitress for plopping another bottle on the table. YiXing immediately popped the top and nudged his glass in JongIn’s direction.

“Hyung, no,” JongIn tried to plead. “You’re getting obnoxious.”

“And you’re being rude. Pour for me.”

JongIn reluctantly obeyed. “I’m not pouring any more for you after this.”

“What a waste! We just opened it! I’m not wasting it! Waster!”

“You can’t drink all of this by yourself!”

“Drink with me, !”

“No! I’m underage, and I don’t want any! Quit cussing at me!”

YiXing threw back the shot and fell forward, forehead landing on his arm and grumbling into the table. JongIn launched an apologetic grimace at a table nearby where a family sat. His attention was brought back as he felt YiXing nudging his empty glass into his elbow again. JongIn tried ignoring it.

“Ahhhh, JongIn-ah, what’s the use?” YiXing moaned, face still buried in the crook of his elbow. “Always left behind, always left behind… Let’s go jump in the river, ‘mkay?”

“Hyung, no.”

“Pour. Let’s go jump.”

“No.”

YiXing resurfaced and glared blearily at the kid across from him, cheeks flushed. “You are so rude. Rude. Gimme.”

He snatched the bottle out of JongIn’s reach before the youth could get a good grip. The alcohol sloshed a bit as YiXing tipped the bottle with an unsteady hand. JongIn reached out to pull the bottle from YiXing’s hand as soon as he was done, but YiXing didn’t seem to notice, throwing back his glass again.

“Let me depart upon you some wisdom, JongIn,” YiXing declared. “Don’t… Hi.”

“No more drinking, hyung.”

“Aren’t you underage? Let go of that bottle.”

“Eat something, instead.”

“Go away, JongIn. You’re a rock tumbler.”

“We’re getting out of here if you’re not eating anymore. Where’s your wallet?”

“You need to see my ID? I’m a citizen! I work here! I’m not illegal!”

He quickly shut up as JongIn pitched him forward to search for his wallet, causing YiXing to faceplant straight into the table. JongIn fretted for a second until he heard YiXing mumbling incoherently to the wood. He quickly fished out enough money for the bill, shoved it to the nearest waitress, and hauled his mentor out of his seat. A red circle adorned the center of YiXing’s forehead which JongIn would have found funny if YiXing weren’t so stupidly drunk.

“Hoohhaahhh Seoul, you’re so pretty! Good evening!”

“Geez, hyung, shut up.”

“No you.”

“I’m not gonna play that, YiXing-hyung.”

“JongInnie, has anyone ever told you that your hair looks pretty? I wanna touch it.”

“Wow, no. Stop touching me. Ow! Get your finger out of my nose!”

“Wah, let’s go jump in the river! Why! Go, let’s go!”

“Okay, now you’re speaking in Chinese… Either way, you need to shut up.”

“I’m tired. Carry me.”

“No.”

“… pipe.”

JongIn endured all of the loudness and insults all the way through dragging YiXing down the hallway to his apartment door. He even endured an uncharacteristic punch to the gut when he tried to search YiXing’s pockets for the keys to his door. He’d make YiXing pay for that later.

“Weeeooooo home sweet home!”

“Yah, take off your shoes!”

YiXing blatantly ignored him, as usual, bounding straight through the entryway and into the living room. JongIn obediently took off his own shoes and padded in after him, watching as YiXing leaned heavily on the small, dining-room table. The apartment was suddenly very quiet.

“YiXing-hyung…” JongIn’s voice cracked. “What happened… that you’re like this?”

YiXing merely shook his head slowly. “Everything, everything… It’s everything… Why don’t you go away like everyone else…?”

“Hyung…”

“Shut up, JongIn. Geez…”

JongIn just pressed on. “Something happened today. Something made you crack. What happened?”

“Why are you so damn nosy, huh?”

YiXing finally turned to look over his shoulder, a heavy glare set on his face. The inebriation made him tip to the side, but he was still leaning with one hand anchored to the table.

“Why don’t you disappear, huh? Everyone seems to have so much fun just leaving me in the dust. Everyone, everyone… Lu Han, BaekHyun… I’m still waiting for Wu Fan and all his es to run away. Everyone will. Screw it all.” YiXing’s head lolled forward as his body tipped in the other direction.

JongIn’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, you know that guy? Lu Han?”

“Just the conductor of the Die YiXing Die Train. We were only together for three years. Hah! Threes! I ing hate threes… Three years, JongIn. Three years. And just one night… And I’m alone again.”

“What… what happened?”

YiXing lifted his gaze again, giving JongIn such a poisonous sneer that the kid flinched. If YiXing was sober (or less of a lightweight), he could have noticed. “Please, JongIn, don’t be such a child. We were together for three years, and we were together for one night. Use your damn brain if you have one, …”

JongIn’s hands balled into fists at the insult, but he let it fall. “YiXing-hyung…”

“And just like that, he was gone. ing. Vanished. What the hell. Didn’t even tell anyone.” YiXing’s body sagged. “Didn’t tell me. Never told me. No one ever tells me. Just go die alone, no one cares. No one wants to see your damn face. Shut up.”

“YiXing-hyung…”

“God why… Why am I still here… Why do I still have to be here if no one… Just a rag doll for people to cling to until they find something else. Then toss me away. I don’t care. Set me on fire, already. Just let me die. I don’t care. I don’t care. I – ”

YiXing’s words were muffled by a shirt and shoulder. The world swayed beneath his feet, but he stayed anchored to his spot. It didn’t quite register why he wasn’t able to speak until he realized JongIn had wrapped his arms around YiXing’s body.

YiFan was the perfect height when YiXing had needed a shoulder to cry on. He could just shove his face into whatever terrible-fashion shirt the giant Angry Bird had on and let the world disappear, YiFan’s monster hands soothingly patting the top of his head or his back. JongIn is shorter than YiFan, though, so YiXing could still see beyond JongIn’s shoulder. He could see as his apartment shifted between blurriness and clarity.

“Let me go,” YiXing whispered. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“No,” JongIn replied, the low timbre of his voice shaking YiXing to the core.

“JongIn, I just don’t…”

He finally figured out why his vision kept shifting, why his entire being was shaking, why his cheeks were stained with tears. YiXing was aware enough to be embarrassed, burying his face into JongIn’s shoulder which was shorter than YiFan’s. He didn’t think he was sober enough to let go of the table, though, so he kept his grip on the edge.

He didn’t know how much time had passed until JongIn finally broke the silence.

“Hyung… I-I have to go…” JongIn stammered, slowly loosening his hold on YiXing.

The ice manically clawed at YiXing’s insides. “God, you, too… I knew it…”

“No! No, hyung!” JongIn gripped YiXing’s arms. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I swear. I promise. Just… just sleep it off. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I don’t care I don’t care…”

“Hyung, please! I swear! Trust me, okay?”

Somehow, YiXing had plopped onto the sofa. Oh. JongIn guided him there. Where did he get that blanket?

“Just go to sleep. I’ll text you first thing, okay? I just don’t want my aunt calling the police on you or me. Just go to sleep.”

“I can’t. I don’t care anymore…”

“I’ll be here tomorrow, I swear. Don’t do anything drastic.”

YiXing rolled over on the sofa, facing the back cushions. He wanted to suffocate himself into the darkness so he wouldn’t have to hear JongIn make those empty promises, so he wouldn’t have to hear anyone make any more empty promises.

A/N: OOOOooooooOOOOOooOOOOOooooOOOOOoooOooOOOOOOO~~

600+ views ㅠㅠ Ilu guys~

And uh, this is turning angsty rather than fluffy. Sorry .-.