potatoes

"Babe, what's wrong?" Kris frowned, mildly concerned over the downturned corners of your mouth. He wandered over to where you were lightly hitting your forehead against the desk in front of your laptop.

"Oh, nothing," you mumbled, laughing in a low voice to yourself. "Just realizing I'm a failure at life." He placed his large hand in between your head and the desk, palm up, first stopping you from impending self-harm and then squishing your face and turning it to look up at him in one swift movement.

"That's not a very happy thing to say," he mused, as you put both hands on his wrist and feebly struggled. "Babe. Tell me what's wrong."

"Ah kun' scheem du wride ayneeting," you garbled out sadly, and he looked at you like you were crazy before you raised your eyebrows, indicating for him to release your cheeks from their island-hand doom.

"I can't seem to write anything," you tried again, sighing. "I don't know, I just haven't felt very inspired. And when I do, its always about the same thing - how the past hurt, what my fears are, how tired I am of--" You paused.

"Of?" he said, looking over your shoulder at what you had so far. There were various windows open on the screen of random instrumentals you were listening to and a document bearing the alphabet as the title - and just as you had said, it was blank.

"Nothing," you shrugged. "Hey, what rhymes with 'my boyfriend is hot'? Ah!" You turned around to stare at the letters on the screen. "Lot... Mot... Not... He is, a lot, and I am not. Brilliant. Perfect! Magical."

"Ayy. Don't change the subject," he said, whirling you around and poking you in the belly before taking your cheeks hostage again. "You've been quiet all day and I thought you were just stressed from work, but... is something really wrong?" His hands loosened their grip.

"Are you... getting tired of me?" His eyes widened. At first instinct, you burst out in a short, incredulous laugh. Taking it the wrong way, he all but flew away and busied himself with pouring out his tea in the sink and washing the mug gingerly. The small room smelled of peppermint. His back was to you but you could see the tips of his ears slowly becoming red.

"I didn't think-- I mean, I know I'm away a lot, but you said--" You grinned and padded softly over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on the centre of his broad back.

"I'll never get tired of you. You're my forever, and I kinda-sorta love you more than anyone I’ve ever met," you mumbled, before hiding your blushing face in the back of his sweater. Letting go quickly, you scurried over back to your desk, shutting off your laptop before running towards your bedroom to grab your coat.

Indelible, a vignette.

“Welcome back,” you said warmly, as Yifan collapsed onto your bed, having just driven over from home after a long flight. You had insisted he rest for the day after having just arrived back in Vancouver, but after over a month of being out of town you he knew he would rather come see you.

You weren’t going to complain when you were a wreck whenever he was away.

“Hey,” he said, sounding relaxed. You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled into his neck. In turn, he curved his long body around you and encased you into his arms, burying his face in your hair.

“I missed this while I was gone,” he sighed, the weight of the world all but falling off his shoulders. You shifted so you could tuck one arm in and place your gently curled fist on his chest, freeing the other arm to sweetly cup his cheek.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled sleepily, eyes half-lidded, reveling in the feeling of your small fingers caressing his eyebrows, then moving down to his lips. Like he always did, he kissed each fingertip before leaning in to close the distance.

Your eyes drifted shut in pure bliss as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and he held you as closely to him as he could. The fluttering in your chest was so loud you could swear he could hear it - after over a year, he could still make every kiss feel like the first.

The glittering heat was behind your eyelids and burning deep in your stomach. Having him in your arms always made you emotional, because it was always a reminder of how tangible he was. But it also gave you such strength. Before him, you didn’t want to need anyone anymore the way you needed him. But he had made his own path into your life, just like he had made his own path in the world. And here he was, irreversibly part of yours. He was so solid, so real.

He melted further into you as he rolled you over so he could lay his warm weight on top of you, leaving no space for anything but sighs of contentment between you both.

21/40 in my fanfanfic series - #21: “t-shirt pt. 2 / shǔ” > one year, two ½ months.

“Wake up, Yifan,” you grumbled, pulling the blankets off of him so he’d curl in on himself from the sudden exposure to cold air. “Let’s go for lunch, I’m hungry now and because I fell asleep yesterday I didn’t get to go do groceries.”

“Mmmmf,” he mumbled into the pillow. You grabbed his sweater and smacked him on the head lightly.

“Potato, just put on your sweater and we can go,” you continued. “Denim ge. Benben. Fanfan. Galaxy Man. Kriscasso. Fan Gogh. Kevin Li Jiaheng, Little Fatty, Rou Rou. Xiao Fei! KRIS WU YIFAN.”

“That’s right, say my name,” he said, rolling over and rubbing his eyes.

“You’ve got too many names, do you really respond to them all?”

“I got used to Potato, at least, since you always call me that. But I think I like when you call me Kris, because then I know you’re feeling super passionate,” he said greasily, propping his head up on his hand, extending a hand towards you as if to ask you to come back to bed.

You gave in too easily - he always seemed to use your inability to deny him to his advantage. You were about to chide yourself, and him, but the sight of his sleepy smile and bedhead made you melt instantly.

“Okay, just a half hour more. Then you have to feed me, okay?”

You pulled the blanket back over the both of you and wiggled backwards into his embrace.

“So, are you going to tell me what you were dreaming about last night?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kris Wu-”

“There it is. Kris. That’s what you were saying in your sleep. And you weren’t angry with me, either, I could tell. I could tell in the way you were… well, I’m pretty sure you were moaning my name. It took me a while to realize, but.. well, it was kind of hot, hearing you say my name like that, over and over...”

You covered your face with your hands.

“DO YOU HAVE TO SAY IT LIKE THAT?” You groaned, pulling another pillow close to hide your face more effectively.

“Yes, I do,” he giggled, “I love when you get flustered, it’s one of my favourite things. And, I mean, it’s pretty normal to have fantasies about your handsome boyfriend, don’t you think?”

You uncovered your face and glared at him.

“Who said I was having fantasies?”

“It was obvious. Your Fan-fantasies were driving you wild…”

You cringed. “No, no, no…”

“Just think,” he interrupted, suddenly serious, holding you tight and whispering into your ear. “One day, I’ll be able to do everything we’ve both been dreaming of.”

You stifled a moan as he pressed himself into you and dragged his hand up your side, under your shirt, and placed his large hand over your heart while he breathed heavily on the side of your neck, his nose at your nape and inhaling deeply.

“You know why I love you?” he asked, deep voice surrounding you like an enchantment. He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Because despite all the things you tell me about yourself that are supposedly bad,” he kissed a trail across your shoulder. “In the time that we have spent together, I have known you to be nothing but kind…”

He removed his hand and lay you on your back, laying himself on top of you.

“Sweet,” He kissed you on the forehead.

“Caring,” He pressed his lips onto each eyelid.

“Loving,” He pecked you on the nose.

“Warmhearted,” He kissed you tenderly on each cheek.

“… and devoted.” He pressed his lips so softly to yours, and the thumping in your chest grew louder. When he pulled away, you could see every eyelash as he continued to look you deep in the eyes.

“That’s why the only thing I ever like calling you, besides your name and ‘xiǎo fān shǔ,’ is ‘angel’- because that’s what you are to me. You’re my angel. Not because you are perfect, but because you never stop trying to be a better person. And you always inspire me to be a better person, too. Whether in everyday life or artistry, that’s why we belong together. Because we inspire each other.”

You placed your hands on each of his cheeks and gently squished his face together.

“And I call you ‘potato’ because I couldn’t live without this adorable face,” you cooed, before quieting and pulling him in for a deep, wonderful kiss.

“I love you more than I have ever loved one person in my whole life,” you murmured, caressing his eyebrow with your thumb. “You haven’t even physically been in my life two years yet, and already I don’t know how I was ever without you. You’re every prayer, answered in full.”

And with that, your stomach growled. He laughed and kissed you once more before rolling off of you.

“Speaking of being full, it’s time to feed you until you are just that. Just let me put on a layer or two and get my hat.”

And as you waited for him, you perused the book by your bedside. You had been learning a new language and often had to ask a friend of yours for help with pronunciation, but you felt like you were slowly improving. Yifan had kept insisting he would help, but you had told him you wanted to wait until you were a little more confident.

“Dǒu… bì…” you whispered out loud.

“Hmm?” he said, preoccupied with getting his sweater on the right way.

“You said you had ‘a little dǒu bì in your heart,’ in one interview,” you beamed at him. “But when you’re with me, I think that’s all you are. To me, dǒu bì sounds like the Chinese equivalent of… Potato.”

He laughed at you. “Dǒu bì…” He blushed. “S-sure. Call me that, I’d like that, too.”

You gave him a look. “Did I say it wrong?”

“No…” he said, taking your hand to lead you out the door, trying not to look at you. “I just like it when you speak Mandarin.”

“Oh,” you said, with a small smile, closing your room’s door behind you. “Okay, lǎo gōng…”

He froze, and turned to you. “What?”

“Oops, maybe not yet. I think I’d prefer to call you lǎo bàn… or, what about lóng xiān sheng? Wǒ ài nǐ, lóng xiān sheng…” You looked up at him adoringly.

He stood there, blushing like mad. He let go of your hand, staring into space. He suddenly screeched, and picked you up around the waist, spinning you around.

You giggled and yelled, “Mǎ líng shǔ!”

He rolled you both onto the couch, plopping you on top of him with an ‘oof.’

“Ah, mǎ líng shǔ ní…”

He just kept laughing hysterically and squeezed you so tightly you couldn’t breathe. He nuzzled you affectionately, but you gasped for air, unable to form any more words.

“You’re… TOO CUTE. I CAN’T HANDLE IT.”

“KRIS.”

“Right, sorry.” He loosened his grip.

You pouted. “It’s time to feed me, tǔdòu. Let’s go.”

“Xiǎo fān shǔ, what did you call me?!”

“Wǒ ài nǐ, xiǎo tǔdòu!” You sang, a saccharine grin on your face as you scurried down the stairs and were out the door before he could catch you.

A/N: Special thanks to wishtotoro for answering all my questions about Mandarin… and now, on top of everything else, Kris Wu Yifan is now motivating me to get on with my learning of the aforementioned language. Sigh.

xiǎo - little

fān shǔ - yam/sweet potato

dǒu bì - (as above, or) mischievous guy

lǎo gōng - husband

lǎo bàn - other half

wǒ ài nǐ - i love you

lóng xiān sheng - mr. dragon

mǎ líng shǔ - potato

mǎ líng shǔ ní - mashed potato