Wufan has never been the sentimental type - or so he thought. Strong feelings were best shown through hard work and preservation, controlled in a very careful manor, not haphazardly and flamboyantly caressed across another being. But this was different. 'There is always tomorrow.' He thought. 'Tomorrow to let the little things slip, the moments linger, the touches softer, loving.' But all too soon Wufan found himself running out of tomorrows. All too soon, there wouldn't be any at all. Now, at age 76, Wufan finds himself changing. His usually hard demeanor and naturally tough expression turns soft not only for his lover, but to the common stranger on the street. He only wishes he had had the courage to show sympathy earlier - for his pride to falter, and slip up - to let the occasional passerby catch a glimpse of that rare grin Yixing so cherished. The grin Wufan seemed to save for him and only just for him. But now, with the days ticking away in the seconds, Wufan finds himself pressed for lost time. Time spent caring too much about the trivial things and less about the here and now - the happy and the sad. Only it always seems the most important realizations happen too late, and time is something you can't get back, so you have to try with what you have. Wufan has to try with everything he has left, for Yixing. His precious, precious Yixing. 'I'm sorry.' He whispers, but the man's eyes are glazed and his body limp in the chair, the only inclination of him being heard resounding in the blink of Yixings eyes as they settle on Wufan's. And Wufan knows if Yixing could speak he would tell him it was okay. That everything was alright and he didn't need to worry about a thing. He wouldn't want it any other way because things are just fine, perfect, just the way they turned out to be. But Yixing can't speak these words anymore, even though he doesn't need to. 'I know.' Wufan whispers, lips against the other's forehead. 'We'll be alright. We always pull through.' And this time Yixing closes his eyes for a little while, perhaps in exhaustion, perhaps as a silent answer that neither of them want to admit. But Wufan likes to think the latter in situations like these. It makes it easier that way. It always makes it easier that way.