#lmxuxi

A starter for @lmxuxi Backdated to ~September 2018

Dejun grins, offering Yukhei’s mom a curt bow, “Sister, I like your hair.”

He gives the woman a warm smile, ignoring her amused snort, as he was insistent on attempting to charm his cousin’s mother, mostly because he’d always enjoyed annoying the other boy, and hoped he was in ear shot. 

It’d been ages since they’d last seen one another.

“Where’s–”

He’s cut off by the Thai woman, who scurries about the kitchen, fixing Dejun the tea she’d offered when she’d first let him in, “He’s in his room. Go pester him and let me make us all some snacks.” and she nods when Dejun says he’s going to go say hello.

He approaches the door quietly, hoping that his covert approach might allow him to get the jump on the overgrown toddler within, maybe even scare him; he turns the latch as quietly as he can manage, peeking in through the crack in the door to spy Yukhei, several inches taller than Dejun remembers him, as he always was, stretched out across his bed, a uniquely bashful smile spread wide across his lips as he watches the phone he’s got held up above his face.

“You’ll be here tonight, right?” he asks, almost pleading, really, as in the tone of his voice Dejun can hear an imploration that reeks of a special kind of neediness, “I miss you.” 

Dejun takes the opportunity to pop into Yukhei’s room, looking around casually, as though he’d just wandered into an open house, and had not, in fact, interrupted what seemed to be a rather intimate conversation; he enjoys the sight of the boy’s already wide eyes stretching even wider in surprise.

A starter for @lmxuxi

The air is chill, but in a uniquely pleasant way; invigorating more than it is bone-chilling, even as Sicheng can see plumes of his boyfriend’s breath swirl in his periphery. A skip in his step, he tightens the weave of their fingers, their hands tucked together into the pocket of Sicheng’s coat, and tries his best to take in the beauty of their surroundings. 

The onset of the autumnal season is so much more evident here than it is in Seoul, the sidewalks lined with fallen leaves, each one its own unique hue of orange-red, and the sky is a pale grey, rich with the crispness of sea air. It’s the sort of place Sicheng didn’t know he missed until he was there, and to be here, with Xuxi, hours away from his obligations, it has yet to settle, and still has a feeling of unreality about it, like he’s bound to wake up from it and find it was a dream —although anymore, most of his dreams are filled with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and displeased trainers, and are nowhere near so pleasant.

They pass by a restaurant, the scent wafting from it unbelievably tempting, and he watches their reflections pass by in the window, in their matching coats, smiling softly to himself.