undermine

我爱上你了

Zitao shouldn’t be allowed to walk around the dorm with his wheat blonde hair ruffled from last night’s dreams. That’s what Yixing thought when the rapper stumbled down the stairs rubbing his eyes and he was almost sure he saw Yifan’s head turn as Zitao walked past (his fingers lingered near the younger’s knuckles but didn’t quite touch when they crossed ways in the kitchen). Yixing glanced at Luhan who was lying on the floor with headphones on, a game controller in hand and most likely half asleep judging from the way he kept losing the battle. 

There was a silent thud that died in the weight of the walls and Yixing knew it was the sound of Zitao being pushed against the refrigeration’s door. He fixed his gaze in his novel and the corners of his lips perked slightly upwards when he saw a glimpse of Zitao’s sunshine smile as the youth walked across the hall. Yifan leant against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and he had eyes only for Zitao just then, Yixing noticed, and it was almost hilarious how Yifan’s features softened when he looked at Zitao’s retreating back (but mostly the trails and river-like lines his own fingers had left in that Sahara washed hair).

And just somehow, as Zitao disappeared into the bathroom and Yifan still stayed where he stood with his dreamy clouded eyes, Yixing knew it wouldn’t take long for Yifan to hit the low end of high.

It was a Saturday morning, already grown late and the sun had slept in just like Zitao had. Rain was dribbling, trailing tears on the windows, and Luhan’s dirty red hair was sticking to his neck. The game controller had fallen on the carpet, the television’s screen had blackened and the man snored quietly, shifted his legs and swatted away the imaginary fly intruding his peace. His lashes fluttered. The low purr of the air conditioner faded into the rain and the wind was blowing, creaking in the corners. Yixing turned the page and peeked at Yifan when a slow, song-like hum eloped from the rapper’s throat and it didn’t quite fit there at all. After a while, minutes later, Yifan finally pushed himself off the wall and back into the kitchen.

Zitao shouldn’t be allowed to walk out of the shower wearing only loose fitting college pants. That was what Yixing thought when the blonde wandered to the hallway with pearls of water dewing on his toned, slim body and Yifan’s breath hitched when the younger drew it away from his chopped lips with a kiss (Yixing didn’t dare to look up from his book but he heard the sharp inhale Yifan took and never released but instead filled Zitao’s lungs with). The sun laid rays in through the clouds as the rain kept falling down from the sky, almost like Yifan. Zitao’s hands sneaked behind his neck, and Yixing heard him rise on his toes to pull the older closer. 

Luhan rolled onto his side and flung an arm over his face, mouth open and cheek bruised red. Someone cracked a door upstairs. (Zitao kept on reaching, and Yifan kept falling.) Yixing turned a page as the flicks of burning fingertips sparked flames on Zitao’s skin.

How flushed and speechless Yifan was left watching, when Zitao pulled away and smiled before walking into his room was almost amusing or would have been if only Yixing hadn’t known just how bad the man wanted to follow and devour the younger for his own thirst. It was easy to desire someone like Zitao; he was young, gentle yet fierce and he had his b eyes full of chunks of chocolate and sand shores of deserted islands (Yifan saw the golden city of Atlantis in them if he wanted to).

Luhan woke up from his light slumber and his lips as he turned over, glanced at Yifan and grabbed the game controller once again not knowing how else to spend his time. Yixing kicked his feet, Yifan stood still and Luhan drowned in bright screen lights. Minseok yawned walking down the stairs. Yixing stood up from the couch, placed the book on the table and walked over to the kitchen, squeezing Yifan’s shoulder as he went. The man sighed.

Since forever, and forever had begun almost over three years ago, had Yixing witnessed his friend trip over a cliff, fall down and fly at times, crashing and falling and Yifan just kept falling deeper, harder and faster the fall that he believed had no end at all. Yixing never tried to pull him back up because he knew that Yifan would only fling himself over again, again and again until Zitao would be there to catch him.

(Yixing had a feeling he would.)

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