In between talks of poetry (mostly pretense and fascination on Yixing’s part), and frequent meals, there must be a rule of probability that dictates how many percent of the world’s population will have undoubtedly fallen in some sort of emotional trap by then. Luhan starts longing for Yixing’s cheery company. The soft-spoken, humorous, kind-hearted boy who practically ruined Luhan’s one-year old sketchbook, but thankfully, he didn’t shout “bloody murder” and have Yixing arrested. The whole of China may have wept for the loss of their precious artist’s sketchbook, but with Yixing, Luhan can make thousands more. 

It’s weird, in the most twisted ways that Luhan can think of. Luhan wants to evade sleep and watch stars all night long with Yixing. It proves to be a futile effort when he falls asleep and Yixing ended up recording his snores. Luhan wants to go grocery shopping with Yixing. Luhan wants Yixing to cook him ramen. With an egg. With two eggs. With three, maybe. 

Most of all, Luhan just wants Yixing to himself. If he knew what he was getting into, he wouldn’t have taken the jump. It seems like an eternity ago, when he was still pining after his ex-boyfriend, who left him a wretched, dead world in his hands, waiting for him to crash. And maybe it was Yixing and his sunshine, who planted baby seeds of hope, and loved every single one of them until they could fix Luhan. They grew and blossomed, and on them, Luhan spent his love. Yixing and his whispers of joy, who painted Luhan’s monochromatic life with colours that Luhan can only dream of in his deepest sleep, as he prays for a savior. 

Luhan is no longer the sad and lonely soul. 

He stares at the sleeping figure next to him, the soundless TV still playing and the box of pizza lays forgotten. Luhan traces lines on Yixing's face and he gets shocked by soft hands that curls around his. 

Yixing: Why do you never sleep (mumbles) 

Luhan: (chuckles) Silly. Dumb. Sleepyhead. (Luhan punctuates each word with a soft kiss on Yixing's face)