part two hundred and fifteen

[exomeme]

       

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Re: wc!au - team lay 5 cm per second

[(Anonymous)]

intermission.

When Yixing falls in love for the first time, he realises abruptly that he has felt this way before. Like most things that happen in life, the timing isn't convenient, and he doesn't get the luxury to ponder the thought as he's lying in bed with nothing else to do. No, he's in the middle of making out with Ye Jin, her tongue halfway down his throat, and this is three months before the gaokao so even after he sits up so fast he hits his head against the wall and stammers an unreasonable reason as to why he has to quickly leave, he doesn't have the time.

Ye Jin is pretty. They'd met one day at a cafe - the Starbucks on his street, to be exact - and met again a few days later, and again, and again. Ye Jin wears her hair in two tails that bounce off her shoulders. She wears glasses that make her round face seem even rounder, and Yixing thinks it's cute the way she gets flustered when he points it out. She has dimples, and they appear often when she smiles. She's not very good at cooking, or sewing, or anything to do with homemaking, but she's a whiz at science and has an amazing voice and these days, when Yixing has the sparest moment of time to think about writing songs, the songs are for her.

"Something on your mind?"

Yixing blinks. He's sitting at the dinner table, chopsticks resting between his fingers, against the bowl. His parents are working late again - his grandparents sit across from him. He smiles, shakes his head.

"Nothing, waipo, I'm just a little tired." He shrugs, laughs a little, scratches at the back of his neck. His grandparents look at him with concern, and he puts down his chopsticks so he can wave his hands earnestly in dismissal. "Really, I'm fine!"

His grandfather clucks, and reaches across the table to serve some qincai onto Yixing's plate. "The government these days. Children are supposed to be playing."

His grandmother is shaking her head, but says nothing. They've had this conversation before. Everyone's had this conversation before. Yixing gives her a wry smile, and turns back to picking at his dinner.

His grandparents discuss something they saw on the news today - was it true that eating bananas and strawberries made mosquitos more attracted to you? Yixing listens half-attentively, answering in vague nods and head tilts as he finishes his meal. He takes his bowl to the sink.

"Just leave it there," his grandmother says. "I'll take care of it."

"Thank you," Yixing says. He turns the tap on, filling his empty bowl to soak. The cold water runs over his hand, and it's several seconds before he pulls it back and turns off the tap, turning to tell his grandparents he's going to his room before he leaves the kitchen.

There's a picture tacked to the wall of him and Ye Jin. It was taken at the theme park a few weeks ago. He has an arm around Ye Jin's shoulder, and she holds up a v sign with her other hand. There's a pair of floppy dog ears on her head, and Yixing wears a matching headband with rabbit ears. He'd accidentally dropped ice cream on her that day. He remembers that clearly.

His room is a gathering of relics through the years he's lived here. Goodbye presents from old classmates, small souvenirs from class trips, the tiny rocket sitting on his bookshelf that his dad had brought him back one day. His guitar sits in a corner, gathering dust. Next to it, on the floor, old composition notebooks. At the bottom, the one he'd submitted once, to the youth songwriting competition. That had been before Yifan had... had moved away. He hadn't won, but they had invited him to go to Beijing, anyway.

He'd gone to see the pandas.

In the bottom drawer of his desk, there is an old tea tin. Letters, received and written and unsent. The addresses vary. Then, one had come back, returned. Address had changed. No address to forward to.

Beijing had been busy, just like Yixing remembered it. He'd gone by himself - his parents decided he was old enough to. He'd stayed with a family friend. They had a four year old daughter, and a dog. The train ride there had been quiet and uneventful. He'd listened to his cd player until he'd fallen asleep, and when he woke up, he'd been there. In Beijing.

There'd been a pang then, as he'd stepped off the train. He looked across the platform, at the sea of people milling, pushing, crowding. Somewhere, there was someone waiting for him.

He'd felt that pang, that clutching in his chest, as if he suddenly couldn't breathe - but just as suddenly as it'd washed over him, it had disappeared.

That time, he'd simply accepted it, forgotten it. Left it behind in the tea tin.

But just like rockets eventually fell back to earth, memories he'd left to orbit would eventually come back to where they'd begun.

To be honest, Yixing can't even remember what Lu Han looks like anymore. He remembers flower petals falling like snow, and he remembers sharp, warm fondness, and an ache in his throat as they sang and sang until their voices were all but gone.

Re: wc!au - team lay 5 cm per second

[(Anonymous)]

anon *___* ;;