Not To Notice 1.2

[drainbamage954]

Not to Notice.
Kris/Luhan
PG-13
46K

Summary:  All Yifan ever wanted was for the star soccer player in the university to know who he was and, you know, remember his name and possibly hold hands maybe.  That’s all.

 

Not To Notice

 

 

“You’re doing it again.”

 

The library is a place of solace, nothing but books, papers, stacks and squishy chairs, computers up on the main levels with people sitting writing essays or checking email.  It’s where students come to work, focusing and throwing themselves into the world of academia.  It’s where large tables are laid out, some favorite spots and some the ‘shitty places’ where you get stuck when everywhere else is occupied.  It’s 7 floors, three basement levels and freezing cold among the periodicals, especially in winter, and more than a few couples have made out the in audiovisual rooms for ‘academic research viewing purposes only.’

 

The library is where people are supposed to be quiet, studying books or research materials or reviewing, sitting quietly and working, perhaps with a friend, perhaps with music playing in their ear.  It’s a place of quiet focus on classes and assignments.  It’s not where you bring your buddies to have a small hushed conversation about whatever the hell it is jocks talk about.

 

Yifan frowns pointedly across the table at his friend who just gives him one of those ‘well’ looks over his calculus homework.  “Doing what?”

 

“The whole staring and pretending you’re not thing,” Jongin tells him, tapping his pen absently against the page of his notebook with as as many numbers on it as doodles.  “Don’t try to deny it.  I’ve been your friend for too long for you to lie to me.  Plus, you’re not exactly subtle.”

 

“I’m not-“ Yifan starts but then cuts himself off, frowning as Jongin raises in his eyebrow in reminder of what he’s just actually said.  “They’re being noisy.”

 

Well, not really.  More like they’re just there, big and about five too many for a table intended for four.  They’re there, and they’re distracting and Yifan keeps looking over because they’re disrupting his concentration.  That’s exactly why he keeps looking over at them.  Looking at their laughing faces and toned athletic muscles and jerseys and carelessly styled hair and over-used backpacks.  At the smiles on their faces, the way those lines crease around eyes when something funny is hushed and how a smile stretches so wide over lips that it’s simultaneously cute and alien and has that really hard to ignore feeling popping into Yifan’s chest like toast from a toaster.

 

Yifan looks back at his notebook with a determined look and ignores Jongin’s slightly incredulous stare.  “You’re ridiculous,” Jongin tells him in hushed quiet tones, shaking his head as he scribbles another few numbers onto his paper and absently curls the edge of the page he’s working on.

 

“I am not, I’m just studious,” Yifan corrects him, absently pushing his hair carefully back from his face.  Hair that he styled very carefully this morning before leaving because just walking out and running his fingers through his hair is never enough styling.  Hair that he styled before getting dressed carefully because appearance matters and carefully packed his leather messenger bag with his books and pens and slid his glasses onto his nose so he could see and looked every bit the exemplary student he is.  “I have to keep myself on the Dean’s List somehow.”

 

“Which is why you’ve spent more time ogling my teammates than working on your Contemporary Lit paper,” Jongin tells him, throwing him an amused look.  Yifan frowns at him.  “What color is his shirt today?”

 

Yifan doesn’t like his best friend today.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Blue?” Jongin is smirking like a self-satisfied twat.

 

“I don’t know,” Yifan lies and looks back at the sentence he wrote about ten minutes ago, cursor flashing on the screen of his laptop.  The significance we see here in Jersey Kosinski’s work is that every now and then he looks up and his eyes sparkle and I wonder what if he’s sort of extraterrestrial because humans don’t do that in the asidjoh’.

 

Yifan scowls and hastily deletes the whole sentences as Jongin sniggers across the table at him.  “Why don’t we ask them to join us?” Jongin suggests as if this is an entirely normal thing to do.  Yifan accidentally highlights and deletes his entire essay.  Quickly hitting 'command Z’ he throws Jongin a mixed look.  “What?”

 

“But then that’d mean they want to sit with us,” Yifan points out and schools his expression purposefully.  To look serious and not slightly excited and mostly nervous.  “They don’t even know us.”

 

“I’m on the team,” Jongin reminds with a shrug and Yifan shouldn’t feel guilty he forgets this sometimes.  Jongin is a recent member of the university soccer team this year, having passed try outs and joined just a week ago and been ‘initiated.’  Yifan sometimes forgets it’s just him now in their little group that still can’t seem to breach the social barrier between ‘Dean’s List Prep School Valedictorian’ and ‘cool soccer guys’.  Of course if he could he’s still not even sure if it would make that huge of a difference.

 

“I have to write my essay,” Yifan finally blurts out, perhaps a bit too loudly as the girl beside them with a severely pulled back pony tail throws him a scowl.  He hunches slightly in apology and tries to look sorry.  One of her eyes squints at him.

 

What if the soccer team doesn’t want to sit with them?  What if he doesn’t want to sit with them?  Worse, what if they do sit with them and then, just like everything else, Yifan somehow manages to blend in with the scenery and no matter how many times he looks eyes never meet and he’s just as significant as the bookshelves around him; tall and just there.  It’s a little worrying how often Yifan sits and considers ‘what if’ situations on a weekly basis as he looks around at the group of people that never seems to reduce to less than four at a time.

 

How is he supposed to get into a not awkward conversation when they move around in packs?  It’s worse than girls in that brief stage where he managed to confuse and convince himself about an already more confusing gender.

 

Jongin is smiling at him in that annoying way he does when he knows Yifan is being self-conscious and he knows exactly the reason why.  Sometimes Yifan doesn’t like how well the younger boy has learned to read him.  “I have to do my calculus,” Jongin says easily.  He raises his eyebrows like inviting half the soccer team plus their star stupidly popular and loved player over to their shabby table isn’t a big deal or anything.

 

Yifan looks over.  The group of boys are all hunched over the table, one of them shoved into a seat with another, long muscled legs bumping as their captain keeps a chair all to himself and reads over a giant packet of reading.  Yifan swallows and none of them look up.  “They look busy,” he says, ignoring the fact that the guys from his Intro to European History class last fall are playing games on a phone.  “Maybe another time.”

 

Jongin sighs and shakes his head as if Yifan is the biggest case of problematic friendship he’s ever know.  “You’re so ridiculous,” he says and Yifan kicks him gently under the table.

 

-

 

 

The unfortunate thing about life in university is that while you had friends in high school and middle school and grew up with people and somehow managed to make friendships, you have to start all over in freshman year.  Roommates, new classes, confusing building placement, mess halls that may employ probation workers, and coin operated laundry machines are just a few of the terrifying things you have to deal with along with that whole ‘friendship’ thing.  Yifan was lucky enough that when he moved in, he was in the freshman dorm, setting up his bed space after his mother fussed at him and patted his bed smooth more times than is ever necessary, and his roommates were fairly friendly.

 

They were nice and Yifan coasted along for the first few weeks feeling jittery but okay as he passed in assignments well before the due date and did just a bit of extra light reading (a book a week or three).  That was until his roommates demanded socialization and dragged him out to the first soccer game of the season.  It was pouring, Yifan too big in the bleachers next to some girls who seemed determined to permanently damage their vocal chords, and wrapped in a poncho that barely passed his knees.

 

It was all just a giant damp mess of an event, a game he didn’t understand with people he didn’t know all yelling about things Yifan didn’t understand.  Delayed reactions are only half the fun when you stand up and yell next to the person beside you for something you have no idea is really happening.  Yifan sits through the first half hour wondering how destroyed his shoes are going to be by the end of the day before the girl beside him nearly has a heart attack.  He sees why about ten seconds later and later tells himself he doesn’t stare.

 

Aside from the fact that Yifan does stare.  For the entire remainder of the game.  In awe.  He still doesn’t entirely understand what the game is all about when it ends and everyone around him yells, himself joining in because he’s just as excited for everyone else.  The girl beside him even jumps and hugs him in the downpour and he hugs back.

 

“We won!” she screams at him, looking a little hysterical in her glee.

 

“We won?” Yifan yells because all he knows is the whole team is in a pile of yelling limbs and wet clothing and mud on the field.  This is apparently a good thing.

 

“WE WON!” the girl screams and Yifan yells too.  It feels like the appropriate thing at the time.  They won after all, which is a good thing, and he can’t stop glancing back at the soccer field and the happily romping team as they crowd leaves the bleachers.  Yifan feels slightly excited, mostly nervous, and a lot soaked as he walks by the edge of the fence, watching the team slowly near as they retreat to go get less covered in mud and sweat, his eyes linger on the ‘star player’.

 

Yifan has head about this guy.  The amazing scholarship student from China who basically has the skills of a pro and everyone loves because he’s just so damn awesome.  His uniform is smeared with dirt from when Yifan had watched him tumble to the ground half way through the game, mud stuck in his honey hair and face brilliant in a smile.  Yifan wonders if he can reach out, wave a hand and pat it on his shoulder, resting on the blue jersey and turning eyes to him to say ‘Good Game’ or ‘Congratulations’.  Say hello or even just get that face to look at him would be enough.

 

Which is why Yifan nearly falls over when the face belonging to the head belonging to the body wearing a uniform that says LU HAN 90 turns his way and lips stretch in a smile.  He waves, arm stretching up and Yifan, for a brief moment, feels hot in the nasty cold rain, his own hand stretching up to wave weakly as his knees shake.  It’s like one of those fantasies that you only hear about in teenage romance novels or badly written pop songs.

 

Just as a smile that he hasn't really shown for a long time, all accidental and gums flashing stretches over Yifan’s mouth, a loud yell sounds behind him and one of the guys from the bleachers is shoving past him.  That awkward moment when you realize the person you thought was waving at you and you waved back feeling all excited only to realize they weren’t even waving at you in the first place?  Yeah.

 

Yifan, that chilly September day in his Freshman year, had mostly wanted the earth to open up and swallow him as he stood, hand still held awkwardly up beside him and waving at no one.

 

Thus began the vicious cycle in which Yifan began to try to find a way to get Lu Han, the coolest person on campus and badass extraordinaire Social King to notice he breathed.

 

Two years later, as Yifan is beginning his Junior year and holds a sterling academic record, a declared major if Journalism and Creative Writing each, prospects at studying abroad in England come spring, he’s still trying to plan out what talking to Lu Han might be like.

 

 

-

 

 

Alarm clocks have to be the most heinous inventions in the universe.  Not because they are simply devices that shatter the soft fabric of existence and blissful sleep, but because, regardless of how they may be designed and set up, they do just that; they wake you up.

 

Yifan had learned long ago that normal alarm clocks were ineffective when coming to wake him.  Some people wake up naturally, dragging from sleep easily and rousing to the real world in a matter of moments, sometimes before their actual alarm goes off.  Some people can wake up with the soft sounds of the radio, some with bird sounds and nature streams.  Some to the steady beep of an alarm and rub sleep from their eyes before pulling themselves to the waking world.

 

From a very early time, it has been very apparent that nothing short of a building exploding is capable of waking Yifan up in the mornings.  The number of alarm clocks he has cycled through which all ineffectively attempted to wake him sit at home.  So it was that when selecting an alarm clock for university, his parents had made sure to get him one that worked, and worked well.

 

Which is why, at seven in the morning, what can only be described as a canon fire of heavy metal music has Yifan nearly throwing himself out of bed and away from a half completed R.E.M. cycle.  A large hand hits down hard and turns off the cacophony of sound and Yifan groans, pulling a hand over his face.  His morning lecture starts at nine but he needs to shower and get ready and eat breakfast.  These things take time.

 

In freshman year, Yifan had fulfilled most of his basic requirements, banning himself to the library where he became very close with the periodicals.  His roommates didn’t seem to miss him and Yifan certainly didn’t miss the lack of musical or artistic expression.

 

In sophomore year, Yifan had met Jongin and buried himself in academia and sitting quietly talking to the others in his classes.  He occasionally would find amusement at the antics of the kids in his French class while attempting to understand the pronunciation.  He got the majority of his academic requirements for his major done in sophomore year.

 

At the end of his sophomore year, Yifan looked down at his course curriculum requirements and frowned upon seeing the lack of course for the fine art requirement.

 

Yifan likes art in the sort of way most people like art.  They think it looks nice, would like to be able to do it, but mostly choose not to embarrass themselves and instead elect to appreciate other’s efforts.  Yifan likes art, but the actual reality of taking an art class is beyond intimidating, especially since, while he likes doodling and putting little animals in the margins of his notebook, it’s not something he wants to be graded on.

 

Yifan is on the Dean’s list and would like to stay there with a sterling academic record.

 

“What about art history?” Minwoo had suggested when Yifan had visited his advisor, smiling over his desk at his pupil.  “You don’t have to do any art or-“ stop, pause, and smile sympathetically.  “I mean you can take an art class or-“ stop, pause, and re-evaluate.  “I had a great time when I took art history back in University,” Minwoo had finally finished lamely and smiled apologetically before giving Yifan a list of courses he could sign up with on registration day.

 

Now, the beginning of Junior year, second week of classes, Yifan is walking into his afternoon class on Western Art and wondering if the text book for this class really needed to cost over one hundred dollars.  So far it just feels and looks like a solid brick of a book and the room seems to do nothing but tempt you upon immediate entry to lie down and sleep.

 

In fact, glancing around at the small number of assembled students, a few of them have apparently already surrendered to this impulse.  Yifan chooses to sit in the middle of the classroom, as works best, beside one such slumbering figure.  He takes out his notebook, textbook, opens to a blank page, and writes the days date and the class name.  He draws a small smiley face beside the date and leans back, waiting for class to start.

 

It is now 1:52 in the afternoon.  Class starts at two and this affords Yifan the luxury to look around the classroom that is slowly filling with people in various degrees of excitement for this class.  Most of them seem to be settled somewhere between himself and his slumbering neighbor.  A few of them slump into a desk almost immediately upon getting to class.  A few students chatter idly and make no effort whatsoever to prepare for class.

 

Yifan glances to the bundle of sweatshirt beside him and purses his lips.  Whoever, the person is, they clearly have no intention of being awake, hood pulled fully over their head, arms hanging limply over the desk edges and barely pillowing a hidden head.  The guys backpack is dropped beside his feet, tangled together in worn sneakers and washed jeans.  Yifan wonders if the whole class is going to turn into students like this, slumped and uncaring about academics.

 

Yifan may not be as enthusiastic about art as he is about prose or the construction of literature or the meticulous details of character design, but he at least is trying to give an effort.  At least he’s trying not to look completely uncaring about the subject of art history.  After talking with Jongin about it and discussing it with his roommate from last year, he had surmised that it consists of a lot of essays and writing talking about pictures.

 

Yifan is good at writing.  Writing he understands.  Writing he can do.

 

The professor is late, walking into class with a haphazard satchel holding papers and books and scrolls of something and a huge tumbler of coffee while apologizing.  He takes a quick roll call Yifan doesn’t entirely pay attention to as he adds hair to his smiley face and begins the lecture telling them what they’ll be learning in class.  Yifan focuses up front, his face serious and intent on the professor.  Medieval, Renaissance, Romantic, Classic, paintings, watercolor, oil based, Monet, Picasso, abstract-

 

“Do you have a pen?”

 

Yifan isn’t used to being poked in the side in the middle of class by a stranger.  The lights have dimmed, allowing the projector in the back of the room to flash slide after slide of brief examples of the art they will be studying for the overview course.  Yifan is already lulled into his typical mindset of concentration so the sharp jab into his side has him frowning, turning to scowl at the person who so rudely-

 

There is no scowl.  Instead, Yifan reaches out almost numbly and hands the tired looking guy beside him his own pen, notes forgotten as he stares at the familiar features which smiles sleepily in thanks, eyes crinkling at the edges as fingers easily take the ball point from Yifan.  “Thanks, man,” is said in hushed tones as the guy nods in appreciation, pushing his hood from his head to reveal messy dyed blondish hair.  Yifan stares as the other sits up, slouching a bit in his seat and opens a standard college ruled note book and begins scribbling furiously, writing out long lines of notes as he frowns at what the professor is saying.

 

Yifan misses whatever the professor was just telling them about impressionism.  He was a little preoccupied with staring at Lu Han sitting next to him and taking diligent notes, hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes.  It takes him a few moments before he grabs another pen and goes back to taking notes.  Lu Han doesn’t notice.

 

Yifan doesn’t really know what else happens in the rest of class.  He’s a little preoccupied with what to do when Lu Han gives him back his pen.  Luckily, or unluckily, Lu Han ends up leaving class without giving it back and Yifan never really gets to try out the vast number of options for saying ‘no problem’ he’d come up with.

 

Maybe next time…

 

 

-

 

 

“How was art history?”

 

“He took my pen.”  This wasn’t what Yifan meant to say.  Not really, something more like ‘interesting even if I don’t entirely understand art’ or ‘potentially fascinating’ might have suited it better.  Blurting out the one thing that has been on repeat in his mind since three as he watched Lu Han practically sprint from the class, big floppy sweatshirt about his torso and hair still sticking up in the back is not what he meant to do.  “Good,” he recovers poorly.  “It was good.”

 

“Who took your pen?” Jongin asks.  Damn him and his perceptive tendencies.

 

“No one,” Yifan tries to play off, shoving some of his mashed potatoes about his plate as Jongin gives him a dry look across the table.  Jongin is freshly showered, obviously having just come here from after practice.  He’s also got his athletic bag, meaning he’s going to the studio after this.

 

“Obviously not.”  Jongin looks amused.  “Do you know anyone in the class?”

 

Yifan stares at Jongin.  Jongin smirks at him.  Yifan remembers with delayed significance that Jongin is also on the soccer team and therefore knows and is somewhat on familiar terms with Lu Han and thus may be aware that Lu Han is also in the art history 201B class with him.

 

“Not really,” Yifan says in entire accuracy.  Because even if he knows Lu Han, the other boy doesn’t technically know him.  Or even know he exists really, if Yifan’s observations of Lu Han and his general awareness of himself are anything to go by.  Two years of awkward waves and stuttered ‘hello’s met with nothing as Lu Han was instead dragged off to something else or another person managed to snag his attention are proof of that.  “Just people.”

 

“So, who took your pen?” Jongin pushes before shoving a huge bite of food in his mouth and chewing.  His cheek bulges out on one side with food.  He looks barbaric.

 

“Uh.”  Yifan is brilliant in all of his classes, graduated high school as valedictorian and currently holds some of the highest academic standing among the students here.  He is allowed brief moments of unintelligent speech.  “Lu Han.”  He takes a swift drink of water after quickly mumbling the name in hopes that Jongin won’t pick up on his nerves at the memory.

 

He was so close, so close.

 

Jongin just blinks at him, eyes widening in slight surprise.  “Oh,” Jongin says and this is an extremely disappointing reaction from the reaction Yifan has been bracing himself for.  “That’s cool?”

 

“He took my pen and that’s cool?”  Jongin smiles in an awkward sideways slant of his mouth.  He looks like an apologetic puppy.  Yifan’s nerves are still twanging.

 

“Well, okay, so that’s not so cool,” Jongin amends.  “But he’s in your class.  That’s awesome.”  He smiles.  Yifan is pretty sure Jongin doesn’t understand the situation.  “He’s nice and you two can finally, you know, do the whole friendship thing you’ve been obsessed with since I met you.”

 

“I’m not obsessed,” Yifan grumbles as he opens up his agenda and checks his schedule.  He’s studying with Joonmyun tonight.  “He’s just-“

 

“Your unspoken heartthrob, yeah yeah.”  Jongin waves a hand at Yifan like he hasn’t said something uncalled for.  “So, you get to talk to him now like a normal person.”

 

This implies that Yifan isn’t a normal person.  “How?”

 

Jongin stares at him.  “You’re in class with him,” he says.  Yifan just stares.  “You can, you know, talk to him.  About class.  And stuff.  Strike up a casual conversation about the class or lesson or something.”  Jongin shrugs because clearly, to him, this isn’t a big deal even when it is.  “Tell him to give you back your pen.”  He smiles.

 

“You make it sound really easy,” Yifan grumbles as he flips through the notes he took on what he and Joonmyun have to do for their project.

 

“It is that easy,” Jongin says and rolls his eyes when Yifan looks at him with one of his ‘looks.’  “Don’t judge me like that.  I should be the one judging you on this one.”

 

“My face just does it naturally,” Yifan grumbles out automatically, the comment being one that they often trade back and forth and which somehow resets whatever balance has been slightly tipped.  “I just admire him,” Yifan says absently, eyes unfocused as he scans his phone and thinks back to the star soccer player who seems to embody everything awesome.  Yifan once saw him carry one of his teammates off the field bridal style after they were injured.  It was heroic.  “Is that so weird?”

 

After a stretch of silence Yifan looks up to see Jongin just staring at him.  “Yes,” Jongin says as soon as Yifan is looking at him.  “It is.”  Jongin puts down his fork, plate cleared with a swiftness only ravenous athletes and college boys have.  “Just talk to him,” Jongin says, getting up.  “Say hi.  Comment about the art stuff.  Be friendly.”  He smiles and gives Yifan a thumbs up.

 

Joonmyun frets over the assignment as Yifan sits with him that evening in the library, his eyes on the assignment for art history hidden in his bag.

 

“Bring food?” Joonmyun suggests and snaps Yifan from his musings as he looks at the smaller guy.  Joonmyun has on that ‘possibly acceptable’ face of his that is a mix between looking expressionless and smiling too much.  He smiles a bit more and Yifan shifts in the seat, wondering what Joonmyun is talking about exactly.  “To the class,” Joonmyun elaborates easily.  Yifan realizes he must have been musing aloud.  Jongin tells him he does that.  “Ask if he wants some during the lecture?  Or just ask for your pen back.”

 

Yifan is never aware that he mumbles to himself until someone points it out to him.  He really should watch that, considering he is going to be spending the entire semester sitting next to Lu Han and Lu Han will probably pick up on him if he’s sitting there talking to himself.  Lu Han will also probably think he’s insane should this occur.

 

Yifan resolves to spend the weekend training himself not to mumble his thoughts aloud.  Jongin has a game on Saturday that he’ll go to, and then after sit with the other boy and ensure that he works through the habit.  If he works hard enough at it, he can accomplish anything.

 

They finish the initial aspects of the project that night, Joonmyun smiling and slightly strange but overall pleasant and Yifan grins at him.  They’re supposed to meet again on Tuesday.  “I hope it goes well on Monday,” Joonmyun tells him with a wave in the atrium of the library as he leaves, smiling.  Yifan’s mind catapults ideas around for the rest of the night in his room as he tries to distract himself with Faulkner and Hemmingway.

 

Neither of them really do much except for make him wonder if Lu Han reads classic literature.

 

 

-

 

 

The problem with trying to talk to someone who never really seems to know that you’re there is that Yifan has no idea what to say.  After a weekend of rigorous socialization (studying and hanging out with Jongin and Jongdae for pizza and movies), Yifan is no closer as to figuring out what to say when he sits down in Art History 201B and notices the distinct absence of one such Lu Han.

 

Maybe he’s not coming today.  Maybe he dropped the class after last week.  Maybe Yifan had managed to traumatize him with the pen lending episode and he was so overwhelmed with guilt that he decided to never return to the class again.  Maybe he’s just not dealing with a punctuality complex and as heinously early like Yifan is to nearly all his classes.  Maybe Lu Han is sick.

 

It’s 1:53 when Yifan looks up again as the door opens and is disappointed when random people walk in that he doesn’t really know and has no significant desire to develop friendships with.  Sighing, he draws a small picture at the side of his notebook, wondering what they’re going over in class today.  He’d done the reading for the day, mostly just long passages about artists and talking about paintings.  Yifan may have been a little excited with highlighting considering he knows close to nothing about art history and thus everything was important.

 

Yifan is so focused on his drawing of a flowery field and a happy sun (with sunglasses.  No sun is complete without sunglasses) that he doesn’t notice the human sitting down in the desk beside him until a bag accidentally hits him in the foot.  He jerks, startled from drawing a smug smile on the sun to widen his eyes as Lu Han offers a small apologetic smile, mutters “sorry man” and sits down mostly incorrectly in his chair.

 

Yifan is sitting, butt in chair seat, knees bent a little more than necessary, and back relatively straight.  Yifan is maintaining good posture and proper stature.  Lu Han, sitting down has his butt nearly to the end of the chair, back of his shoulders in yet another University sweatshirt resting just at the top of his chair, digging in what must not be comfortable angle.  His legs are stretched out in front of him as he flips open the notebook on his desk, textbook lying under it and looks the complete emblem of cool nonchalance.

 

In his fingers tapping against the blank notebook page as he frowns at the book and chews absently on the knuckle of his index finger of his left hand, Lu Han is holding Yifan’s ballpoint pen.  He looks extremely complacent and at ease sitting there, slouched with suave elegance in the chair, the pose emphasizing the stretch of his strong soccer legs and the slight form that seems to slide through space and emanate perfection.

 

Yifan swallows.  Mind turning over everything that has been going through his mind since last week and the initial contact phase, he tries to pick up what will possibly be the best way to say something to Lu Han.  He rules out about seven different possibilities about talking about the weather because it’s foggy right now and talking about the weather is immediately lame.  He briefly contemplates asking for his pen back before realizing Lu Han is using it and if he takes it back he will a) look like a possessive freak b) look like an asshole c) appear obsessive compulsive and d) earn no friendship points.  Yifan will ask for it later.  When Lu Han isn’t drumming out random patterns and chewing on the end.

 

By now, Yifan has gone through about half his list of things to talk about and is beginning to panic because it’s now 1:59 and class will start in a second.  He is just opening his mouth to say whatever spills out of it first on hysterical desperation when Lu Han suddenly smiles, sitting up slightly in his seat and throwing up a hand to high five a guy who has just raced into class.  Yifan recoils quickly back into his seat where he’d been leaning out to try to catch Lu Han’s attention.

 

First failure to initiate contact for the class period.  Yifan has an hour before Lu Han walks away and he has to wait another few days before another opportunity presents itself.

 

The professor walks in.  Yifan slumps a bit in his chair.  Lu Han is still stretched in lazy perfection beside him and doesn’t look at him even a little bit.  They’re beginning on the Renaissance art pieces today to officially set off into the class.  Yifan remembers this from the reading and tries to watch the professor intently and ignore how Luhan is drawing squiggles on his notebook with his pen and occasionally chewing on it.

 

Lucky pen.  Not that Yifan wants Lu Han chewing on him exactly (or anyone chewing on him for that matter) but more of that pen is seeing more acknowledgement and attention than Yifan has ever seen from Lu Han.  The damn pen didn’t even need to do anything and already knows Lu Han better than Yifan does.  Stupid pen.

 

Yifan should be paying attention and drags his attention from Lu Han beside him.  He focuses on the slides on the screen, taking notes and trying to make sure he’s getting all the information correct, adding a few things in the margins.  Lu Han is chewing on his pen again.  Yifan nearly leans over to warn Lu Han it’s bad for his teeth before realizing how lame that sounds.  He doesn’t want Lu Han to remember or know him as the ‘dentally concerned friend.’

 

Socialization is hard.

 

Yifan is interested in art.  Yifan is trying to think of a way to talk to Lu Han.  Yifan should be interested in art.  Yifan is a Dean’s List Honors Student.  Lu Han has really cool sneakers and his jeans seem to fit him perfectly, hugging his legs in emphasis of how well constructed and strong they are.  Lu Han is frowning slightly at the projector, scribbling down a few notes into his notebook, textbook lying open on his desk.

 

Yifan gets a brilliant idea.  Sliding down slightly in his chair, legs stretching in front of him so he appears less obvious in general, he leans carefully to the side and closer, slipping slightly out of his seat and trying to remain balanced as he watches Lu Han carefully.  “Hey,” he says.  Step one is successful as Lu Han makes a small jerking movement before looking to the side with slightly wide eyes and taking him in.  Yifan tries to remember step two as Lu Han’s eyes meet his in question.  “Do you know what page we’re on?”

 

Yifan knows what page they’re on.  But it’s a reason, something, anything to get to talk to Lu Han who, in display of academic ease, has his book open to the correct page and passage.  A star athlete and academic, clearly.

 

Lu Han blinks at him, eyebrows rising on his face as he looks over Yifan briefly before glancing at his desk.  “Uh,” Lu Han says, voice hushed in the classroom to keep from disturbing the professor as he looks at his desk.  “Page 17,” he suggests, a small smile on his mouth as he glances back at Yifan, tapping the book with a thin finger.  Yifan nods in understanding as Lu Han’s mouth takes an amused turn.

 

Oh right.  Yifan remembers the next step of his plan.  “Are you sure?” he asks, stage frowning and trying to school his face to not look terribly threatening.  He’s been told by almost everyone he knows that frowning is something he shouldn’t ever do too severely lest he permanently scar individuals.

 

“Yeah,” Lu Han says with a small final quality to it, voice quiet as a small nod moves his head gently. His blond hair is styled to lift off his face today, the short strands sticking up and leaving his face clean to view.  “Pretty sure.”

 

The problem, Yifan realizes in this moment, is that so far, while he’s managed to establish contact with Luhan, there isn’t really a chance for the conversation to continue.  Not that it should, considering they’re in class and talking in class is against his academic morals.  However, considering it’s Lu Han, he considers this brief moment to be an exception to his general rules.

 

But this is still the end of the conversation and Yifan now wishes he had properly thought out a plan.  “Thanks,” he whispers, reluctantly slipping back into his seat, looking back at his textbook as Lu Han glances at him with an amused smile on his face.  Yifan realizes after a second that he’s supposed to be looking for the correct page.  Which his textbook is already open to.  He shuffles the pages swiftly to try to make it seem like he actually needed to ask Lu Han rather than just asking him as an excuse to talk to him.

 

Lu Han lets out a small sniff and shakes his head and Yifan feels his face heat slightly.  Okay, so perhaps his plan wasn’t that great of a success considering that Lu Han probably thinks he’s a very silly human who can’t talk to normal people without asking questions they already know the answer to.  Yifan needs better ideas.

 

Renaissance paintings are interesting, Yifan decides.  Though honestly he pays just as much attention to class as he does to how to redeem himself in Lu Han’s eyes.  Perhaps say something far more intelligent that appearing to not know what they’re learning in class (in hindsight, his initial plan really didn’t show him in the best of lights).  Pushing his glasses up his nose to settle again, about the seventeenth time in class, Yifan sighs gently.

 

A few of the students in class are nodding, heads dipping and snapping back up hastily as the professor points to things enthusiastically and keeps talking in a voice similar to an audiobook reader.  Lu Han’s head dips a few times before he finally shakes himself and shifts in his seat.

 

Yifan wonders if it’s comfortable.  Slowly, he continues from his already slightly slouching position, to sink down in his seat until he’s half mimicking Lu Han in his posture.  Wetting his lips, Yifan realizes this position probably works far better for Lu Han because Lu Han is normal person sized, unlike Yifan who is, in Jongdae’s words, a house-human.  Shifting and wincing slightly, Yifan manages to shift back into his usual ‘perfect posture’ position, wetting his lips nervous as he glances at Lu Han.

 

Lu Han doesn’t look like he noticed Yifan shifting down or back up awkwardly at all.  Lu Han looks like he doesn't even remember Yifan is there.

 

It’s 2:48 and Yifan has less than ten minutes to figure out something to say to Lu Han before class ends.  Yifan looks over his textbook painted in a rainbow of highlighter colors and scribbled notes beside the text.  Yifan wonders what he could say that will get Lu Han to look at him.  Or remember him.  Anything.

 

Yifan pushes his hair back from his face in agitation.  It’s a little longer now than he usually keeps it, but in a way he likes it.  The longer strands falling about his face and tickling the back of his neck.  He wonders what Lu Han would look like with long hair.  He decides Lu Han probably would look good with any hair.  Lu Han is just one of those people.

 

Five minutes left to class and Yifan is pretty sure he has about five pages of notes and stuff from the lecture that are all probably easily found in his book.  He wonders how much he missed while he was trying to think of methods to talk to Lu Han.  He is just about to do something pathetic like drop his pen (shut up, not only girls do it) when the professor announces the class is done and his chance vanishes into air.

 

Lu Han is standing up.  Lu Han is picking up his notebook and textbook and Yifan is a few steps behind as he tries to reorient himself.  Lu Han is about to leave and Yifan hasn’t even really talked to him at all.  This is bad probably.  “Ah,” he says because sounds usually attract attention.  Lu Han just barely glances at him as Yifan goes to say “Can I have my pen back?” and never gets to because Lu Han is turning the next second and shuffling quickly out of the classroom.

 

Lu Han isn’t one of the fastest and most agile soccer players on the pitch for no reason.  Yifan is direct witness that Lu Han is just as light on his feet in every day life.  He just wishes a little bit that he weren’t.

 

Day one: not so successful.

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin doesn’t look impressed.  Joonmyun looks concerned.  Jia looks amused.

 

“You asked him for the page number in the text book,” Jongin asks him, sitting at their usual table in the library and looking skeptical of Yifan’s general existence.

 

“It was a good idea,” Yifan says in his own defense.  He did, after all, get Lu Han to speak to him even if only for a moment.  “He told me the page number.”

 

“Well done you,” Jia says as he drags her fingers through her hair, freshly dyed pink.  “You used your words to do something.  Honestly, I think that was a far better idea than hitting him to get his attention.”

 

“Who hits people to get their attention?” Joonmyun asks her, turning to the girl currently blowing a small bubble of pink gum.  Jia grins and slugs him in the shoulder, earning a loud whimper as Joonmyun curls away from her immediately.  Jia just grins and winks at Yifan with raised eyebrows.

 

“The best method of communication in my opinion,” Jia says casually as Joonmyun dejectedly massages his battle wounds.  “Next class, don’t say anything Yifan, just punch him in the stomach.  Then you’ll both have something to talk about for sure.”

 

“Or you could not,” Jongin says watching her and appearing amused none the less.  “Just, you know, pretend Lu Han is me or something.”

 

This sounds like an extremely bad idea.  “This seems like horrible advice,” Yifan says, looking at his best friend who just shakes his head and looks back at his econ notes.  “It’s not that I’m socially inept it’s just that I’m-“

 

“Awkward,” Jia cuts him off easily as Joonmyun watches her and her incredibly long nails drum easily on the tabletop.  Yifan is pretty sure she’s not helping either.  “Honestly, if all else fails, just introduce yourself and ask if he wants to get dinner at the mess.”

 

“Isn’t that a bit forward?” Joonmyun muses, frowning slightly as he looks at Jia and seems perplexed.  “Like, just randomly going to a guy and saying ‘hi, my name’s Yifan.  Want to eat food?’ seems a big aggressive to me.”

 

“Well, Yifan looks aggressive, so it works,” Jongdae says, arriving on the scene and slipping into the seat beside Yifan.  He grins as he turns to Yifan and pats him on the shoulder.  “Still having Lu Han communication problems?”

 

“Nice to see you too, Jongdae,” Yifan says, wishing that this was not a common conversation for all his friends at this point.  He has art history tomorrow again and what started out as just a quiet conversation with Jongin turned into a pow-wow with Joonmyun and now apparently has expanded to a Yifan support group.  Jongdae just grins at him as Yifan puts his hands over his face, running them over tired skin and saying with a sigh “Why do I have so many people with J names?”

 

“We make you feel secure,” Jongdae says immediately and Yifan cracks his fingers to give a not amused look at his friend.  “All us J’s here to give you the sense you lack in that big head of yours.  No one should have this hard of a time talking to Lu Han.  He’s practically the most social person on campus.”

 

“Thank you for making me feel better,” Yifan says and Jongdae just smiles at him happily as if he is greatly enjoying Yifan’s agony.  He probably is.

 

“Just, I dunno, go to class and don’t bring your notebook,” Jongin says.  “Ask him if you can borrow some pages for notes.”

 

“You can’t borrow paper for notes,” Yifan states matter of factly.  “That’s like borrowing tissues or toilet paper.  You don’t borrow, you take to use.”

 

“Somehow I now understand see why this ‘establish friendship with Lu Han’ thing is such a problem,” Jia says and Jongdae lets out one of those too loud laughs that stutter into giggle hybrids.

 

“Forget your notebook,” Jongin tells him.  “Ask for paper.  Introduce yourself.  Easy.”

 

Yifan doesn’t think it will be that easy really.  Lu Han had forgotten he was even there last class not to mention the first class.  The first two years of his college experience is mostly Yifan making awkward waves and attempts to say ‘hi’ to Lu Han and failing miserably.  There isn’t really much to say this will be any different.  “I’m not good at this,” he laments.  “I’m much better at admiring from afar than this whole up and close relationship communication thing.  I’ll just, you know, admire from up close or something?”

 

“Admiration?” Jia snorts loudly as Joonmyun looks at her in suffering surprise.  “Yifan, I think you need to use a different word here.”

 

“I admire him!” Yifan insist and he does.  Lu Han has been someone he admires, looks up to, thinks is capable and impressive and cool and a model of social excellence, athletic promise and a general emblem of how real college students should be.  Lu Han is a star of the soccer team involved in campus activities, known and loved by all, high grades in his classes and when he smiles he sparkles.  Or something amazing and inhumanly amazing like that.  “I admire him.  A lot.”

 

“Oh denial,” Jongdae says as Jongin just shakes his head and ruffles his hands through his hair agitatedly.  “Seriously not just a river in Egypt.”  He giggles a bit as no one laughs at the joke before stuttering off and giving a small cough.  “Never mind.”

 

It isn’t so much that Yifan hasn’t at times looked at his admiration of Lu Han and recognized that yeah, he admires Lu Han as an exemplary member of society.  It’s more that Yifan is more than a little aware that he sometimes has those silly whibbly stomach feelings around the other boy and that probably indicates to him that while he admires Lu Han, he may also be mostly if not entirely attracted to him as well.  Though considering it’s Lu Han who embodies all things great, this isn't exactly something that is shocking to him.

 

Yifan isn’t in denial.  He is aware that his interest in Lu Han isn’t 100% innocent and devoid of potential fantasies in which Lu Han noticed him and then noticed him and then things happen.  It’s more that he’s just primarily aware that these are mostly fantasies and that he’d be okay with Lu Han just looking at him and seeing him and remembering his name, maybe even having a fun conversation and being friends and stuff is good.  Yifan can live with that.  Yifan would be happy with that.

 

Just Lu Han smiling at him and calling him with recognition ‘Yifan!’ with a happy wave would be enough.

 

“Did you just sigh wistfully?” Jongdae asks him, eyes wide in surprise as he looks at Yifan.  “I didn’t even know people still did that.”

 

Yifan has no idea.  “No,” he says swiftly because sighing wistfully and his own thought process doesn’t sound like something anyone should do unless in one of those sappy romance films.  Yifan isn’t in a sappy romance film.  He’s in his third year of university, which is about the farthest thing from a sappy romance film.  Third year of university is more like one of those shitty sitcoms that gets cancelled after seven episodes because the real world is far less exciting.

 

The table just gives Yifan a varying degree of looks as he frowns at them before mumbling something about studying and turning back to his contemporary literature assignment.  Perhaps he’ll come up with something before tomorrow.

 

 

-

 

 

Yifan isn’t fidgeting.  That would be silly.  Purposefully forgetting his notebook because Jongin told him to so he could have some dumb excuse to ask Lu Han for some paper is silly though.  It’s a very dumb idea because what if Lu Han doesn’t come to class?  What if Lu Han doesn’t bring his notebook today?  What if, in that case, Yifan has to ask someone else for notebook paper to take extensive notes on?

 

Yifan was already cutting it close, coming to class only seven minutes before it starts rather than his usual ten to fifteen and he looks to the seat usually occupied by Lu Han.  It’s empty.  Yifan swallows down his apprehension and sits down, pulling out his textbook and a few pens and bounces his knee to keep himself occupied as he checks the clock periodically.

 

It’s at 1:58 when Yifan lets out a breath he had been holding in nerves as the door opens and Lu Han finally walks in, followed by the professor.  He quickly occupies himself with his textbook as Lu Han walks over and slides with a sigh into the desk, dropping his backpack to the ground and immediately lying on top of his desk.  Lu Han doesn’t pull out his notebook.  Yifan realizes this may be a flaw in his plan.

 

Yifan bites his lip, glancing at Lu Han frequently as the professor begins to pick up where they left off last class and the itch to take notes begins to crawl and nag at the back of his mind.  It’s compulsive and Yifan needs to take notes.  Lu Han looks like he’s not at all in the mood to pull out a notebook, instead simply sit and absorb all the information the professor is spewing at them into his sponge-like brain.

 

This was a terrible plan.

 

Sitting and listening in class is one of the things that Yifan knows he should be okay doing, just simply allowing the information to sink in and scrawling a few notes.  However, without a paper there to do so on, he feels naked.  This was indeed a horrible idea.  Lu Han’s backpack is right there.  Lu Han is right there.  Yifan can feel his nerves standing on edge as he leans over swiftly, trying to keep himself as inconspicuous as possible as he angles himself towards Lu Han.

 

Lu Han, predictably, doesn’t notice him.

 

“Ahem,” coughs Yifan and Lu Han immediately jerks in his seat to look at him.  Yifan smiles in apology as Lu Han stares at him with eyes that look tired.  His hair is just soft about his face today.  He looks effortless.  “Do you have some paper I could borrow?” Yifan asks in hushed tones, trying to keep his embarrassment from coloring his face.  He can’t borrow paper that he knows, but just demanding ‘GIVE ME PAPER’ sounds a bit too abrasive.  “I forgot my notebook today.”

 

Lu Han blinks at him as if he can’t entirely register what it is he’s saying before he finally shakes himself slightly, saying “Sure” quietly before leaning over and nearly knocking into Yifan as he bends over to get his bag.  He pulls out his notebook, glances to the professor as he opens it and quietly rips out a piece of paper.  “Tell you what,” Lu Han says quietly as he throws a look at Yifan.  “I’ll let you keep the paper too.”

 

Lu Han smiles at his own witty comment and Yifan gives a weak slightly deflating chuckle as he accepts the paper Lu Han gives him.  “Thanks,” Yifan says.  It was a stupid plan.  Yifan knows you can’t borrow paper for notes.  However, Lu Han is talking to him a little bit, which is far more progress than previous.  He sits back in his chair as Lu Han begins to turn and look away. 

 

Somewhere between looking back at the professor and sitting back into his seat to try to think what next to do, Lu Han turns to him again and says “I’m Lu Han,” and Yifan can’t words.

 

“Hi,” is the only thing that seems to competently come out of his mouth for a while as Lu Han looks at him with almost expectantly curiosity.  Yifan tries to smile and hide most of his mouth from potentially offending Lu Han.  It’s a very difficult task. Lu Han’s eyebrows raise.  ‘I know’ would probably be the incorrect thing to say.  Instead Yifan says “nice to meet you.”

 

This is progress?

 

Lu Han gives a small smile and nods his head.

 

This is probably progress Yifan decides and feels slightly giddy as Lu Han turns back into his seat.  Yifan scribbles his usual date and class heading and name onto the paper before scrawling down a few notes.  Lu Han has talked to him, smiled at him, and told him his name.  This is definitely progress.  Now he just has to figure out what to do next.

 

Shit.

 

Looking at Lu Han, notebook now open and textbook sitting on the desk as well Yifan tries to think of what he would do next in this scenario.  Listen to the professor and get through the rest of class?  Maybe.  Asking Lu Han for more paper is probably bothersome and Yifan doesn’t want to be needy and incompetent.  This is Lu Han after all.

 

“Hey,” successfully startles Yifan from his thoughts and he looks up to see Lu Han leaning over to him.  Does he want his paper back?  This could be problematic, considering Yifan has already begun taking notes on it and drawn a squirrel out of habit.  He swallows and leans closer, schooling his breathing as he nears Lu Han to hear him better and show he’s caught his attention.  Though really, Lu Han basically has Yifan’s attention when he’s in the vicinity.  “Can I borrow a pen?”

 

Wordlessly, Yifan immediately hands over his pen, not even thinking about it as Lu Han smiles in thanks, fingers closing around the writing utensil and Yifan smiles back without thinking.  It’s probably far too wide and Lu Han’s eyes wrinkle flatteringly as he leans back with a small “thanks.”

 

With one paper to fulfill what is typically at least four pages of note taking, Yifan feels positively giddy as he sits in the remainder of class, biting his lip to keep from smiling too much and squeezes notes into margins and sideways.

 

At the end of class, as Yifan is gathering up his things and Lu Han is hastily shoving his stuff into his bag to flee as per typical, Yifan manages to say a quick “thanks for the paper” to the other.  Lu Han smiles at him with his whole face, offering a quick “of course!” before swiftly disappearing to his next class.

 

Day Two: significantly more successful.

 

 

-

 

 

“Please stop smiling,” Jongin says, wincing slightly as he looks at Yifan across the table and holds his strawberry smoothing in his hands like a precious heirloom.  “It is mildly terrifying.”

 

“He talked to me,” Yifan says almost dreamily as he thinks back to how Lu Han had looked at him, talked to him, smiled at him like he wasn’t a desk chair and revels in the feeling of recognition.

 

“Oh Jesus,” Jongin says, shaking his bangs over his face and ducking it with a heavy sigh.  “Yifan, you sound like a love sick school girl.”

 

“I’m having a moment,” Yifan tells him with a pointed look.  “And I’m not love sick.  Nor a school girl.”

 

“Thanks for clearing that up.  I was so confused,” Jongin grumbles as he takes a sip of his smoothie before shooting an amused look at Yifan.  “So art history went well I take it.”

 

Yifan just nods, still coasting on the fumes of success and mind already catapulting into the reality where he and Lu Han become close friends and laugh at jokes and they have their own secret handshake and nick names for each other.  Lu Han waves at him from across the room when Yifan sees him and he is the first person Lu Han hugs after they win a soccer game.  Yifan grins in a way that he knows is probably stupid, especially considering Jongin makes a small suffering noise.

 

“So what did you two talk about?” Jongin asks.

 

“I asked him for some paper,” Yifan says, finally looking at Jongin.  “And he gave me some.”  Jongin just stares at him with a ‘that’s it?’ expression.  “Then he asked to borrow a pen and so I gave him one,” Yifan continues with his epic story.

 

“Did he give it back at the end of class?” Jongin asks.  He doesn’t look nearly as riveted in this thrilling tale as Yifan is.

 

“No,” Yifan admits.  “But he smiled.”

 

Jongin sits and looks at him.  Yifan looks back and Jongin’s eyes widen.  “Wait,” he says.  “That’s it?”

 

“Yes?” Yifan is perplexed.  This is progress.  Jongin heaves a loud sighing groan and flumps until his forehead hits the table.

 

There is a loud bark of laughter from the door that has Yifan looking up, eyes fixing on the group of guys that has just wandered into the campus café, feeling a slight jump as he recognizes Lu Han’s laughing face among them.  Jongin sits up and looks over, shaking his hair from his face.  “Oh look,” Jongin says dryly as he turns back to Yifan with a smirk.  “It’s your new BFF.”

 

Yifan just wets his lip as he sees Lu Han and his soccer bropals walk into the café, all talking and laughing and head for the empty table that is just a few away from himself and Jongin.  Jongin rolls his eyes, before looking back at the team.  The yell of “Jongin!” sounds from one of the larger members of the team, a tall slightly limb laden guy who is the loudest person Yifan has ever seen waves excitedly.  Lu Han turns immediately, eyes searching out the table.

 

Yifan smiles correctly as Lu Han’s eyes land on their table and he raises a hand impulsively to give a small stunted wave.  Jongin side eyes him hard and his smile falters as his hand drops weakly, eyes flashing to Lu Han who is laughing.  Possibly at him.  Yifan wonders if feeling like origami is a feeling normal people have.  Probably not.

 

“Hey,” Lu Han says, walking up and smiling as the soccer team passes by, pausing briefly as they make their way to somewhere else important.  “How are you Jongin and, uh.”  Yifan waits, sitting mostly properly in his chair as Lu Han makes a face of vague concern before laughing a little.

 

Yifan waits for Lu Han to remember his name.  Lu Han presses his lips together as Jongin glances between the two of them and Yifan waits.  Lu Han lets out a small laugh.

 

“Good,” Jongin finally says and Yifan watches Lu Han and doesn't feel disappointed.  He doesn’t feel unnoticed.  He doesn’t-  “Yifan and I are awesome.”

 

Lu Han gives a short bark of a laugh, rapping his knuckles against the table as he nods.  Yifan smiles slightly because smiling fully usually means gums and he’s been told by a lot of people that can sometimes be overwhelming.  “Cool,” Lu Han says glancing at Yifan briefly before looking back at Jongin.  “See you at practice?”

 

“Yeah,” Jongin says, giving a small nod and glancing at the team that is a good few steps away by now.

 

“Good,” Lu Han says with a firm nod.  “We need to win on Saturday for sure.”

 

“Dead right,” Jongin says with a grin as Lu Han gives a swift punch to his shoulder before striding away easily, offering a nod in Yifan’s direction that has him jerking to wave again.

 

Jongin is staring at him.  “What?” Yifan asks, trying to look completely unfazed and mostly failing.

 

Jongin is looking at him with a face that says ‘pity’ and ‘pain’ at the same time.  “I don’t know whether to laugh or not,” Jongin says and Yifan kicks him under the table with a pointed look.  “Did you even tell him your name?”

 

“Yes,” Yifan says with a scoff as he leans back in his chair.  His mind flashes to the afternoons class, etched into his mind.  Wait.  Jongin is looking at him with a creased face in pitying amusement.  “Maybe,” Yifan tries even as the long awkward pause that Lu Han had given seems really obvious to the contrary.  “He kind of knew who I was,” Yifan finishes sounding far more self assured than he feels.  Lu Han had looked at him like the effort of trying to remember his name was excruciating.

 

That horrible nervous bubble feeling is back and it’s not a pleasant one.

 

Jongin does laugh, though it sounds more sympathetic than vindictive.

 

 

-

 

 

“Hey,” Yifan says first before Lu Han can collapse into his chair and fall asleep or something and thus terminate any conversation.

 

Lu Han starts, blinking slightly as he turns to look at him.  “Oh,” he says smiling in a kind way as he looks at Yifan and drops his bag onto the top of his desk.  “Hi.”  He smiles still and doesn’t say Yifan’s name.

 

Yifan needs to keep the conversation going.  “Did you do the homework?” he blurts out.  Perfectly logical question.

 

“We had homework?” Lu Han says with a frown, sitting into his typical perfectly at ease slouch in the desk.  “I thought we just had a reading.”

 

“Right,” Yifan says with a nod.  They always have readings.  He does them immediately after class, sometimes delving into the next chapters just to make sure he’s covering the material.

 

“Don’t scare me like that,” Lu Han says with a soft chuckle.  The winkles his face contours in seem to perfectly line into humor, stretching and lining his face in amusement that shines.  No one can laugh like Lu Han.  “I thought we actually had something to do.”

 

“Whoops,” Yifan says and shrugs a bit, trying to look apologetic.  Lu Han just shakes his head as he pulls out his books and a notebook.  Yifan opens his mouth to ask Lu Han if he ate lunch when the professor walks in and the question dies in his mouth.

 

Lu Han is focused on his notes for most of the class.  Yifan keeps glancing over as they continue to talk about paintings and what is so significant about them.  Lu Han has a tendency to not only chew on Yifan’s borrowed pens but also tap them against his nose when he frowns in contemplation at the professor.

 

His penmanship is spectacular from what Yifan can observe as he sneaks a look at the few lines of notes Lu Han has scrawled on his paper.

 

At the end of class, as Lu Han stands up and makes to grab his books, Yifan says a fast “bye Lu Han,” which has the other boy pausing as he looks back.

 

“Bye, uh-“

 

“Yifan.”  This isn’t pathetic.  Lu Han knows so many people of course he can’t keep names straight.

 

Lu Han smiles and shakes his head with a small laugh.  “Yifan, right.”  He gives a quick wave.  “Bye.”

 

Day Three:  Nervous accomplishment?

 

 

-

 

 

“Is he serious?”

 

Yifan frowns at Baekhyun as he looks at Jongin skeptically.

 

“I wish he wasn’t,” Jongin sighs pulling a hand over his face.  He still has dirt smudged on his chin from practice.  “That’d make me less pitying.”

 

“You’re both pessimists,” Yifan tells them, shaking his head with a sigh as he looks down at his notes and gets back to outlining the doodle on his paper.  It was supposed to be a bird.  Yifan is pretty sure it’s still a bird.  It looks like a bird to him at least.

 

“We’re in touch with reality,” Baekhyun says, flicking bits of eraser at him and scattering it over his notes.  “Which clearly you aren’t.”

 

“I am extremely realistic,” Yifan says looking up at Baekhyun with a frown as he dusts the eraser scraps from his paper.  “Look at my GPA and five year life plan if you don’t believe me.”

 

“Okay,” Baekhyun says, throwing him a rather exasperated look.  “Unrealistic about specific aspects of your horribly pathetic and abnormally tall life.”

 

Yifan is pretty sure he should be offended.  He chooses not to be for convenience.  “I’d like to see you do better with the person you look up to and admire,” Yifan shoots back, throwing Baekhyun a pointed look before flashing his gaze to Jongin.

 

“The people I admire all know,” Baekhyun says with a lazy smirk, leaning backwards in his chair and stretching his arms to lace behind the back of his head.  He looks extremely cocky as he winks at Yifan and tilts his chair back dangerously.  “I have nothing wrong with letting them know I think they’re cool, even if there really aren’t that many people I hold in higher esteem than myself.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Yifan poses, eyebrows rising.  “You feel no nervousness or apprehension or awkwardness in telling Taeyeon that you swoon about her thighs on a weekly basis?”

 

“Daily,” Baekhyun corrects as Jongin just shakes his head and looks back at his books with a small sigh.  “Let’s not get confused here, Fanny.”

 

Yifan kicks Baekhyun’s chair.  It tilts nearly to fall over and Baekhyun flails for a moment before grabbing the table and checking himself.  “Not amused.”

 

“I am though,” Baekhyun tells him with a grin.  Yifan scowls at him.  “Seriously, it’s not that hard,” he says reaching over and slapping Yifan’s thigh emphatically.

 

“Yeah?” Jongin asks, glancing up at his friend with a look that says he’s entirely unconvinced.

 

“Yeah!” Baekhyun chirps back happily, grinning wide so his eyes can barely be seen before they widen and he gets a rather shit eating look on his face.  “I’ll prove it too.”

 

Yifan and Jongin barely have a moment to realize what their rather cocky friend is referring to before Baekhyun is leaning out of his chair at the two girls passing them in the atrium.  He flashes a pointed look up and down Taeyeon as Yoona looks slightly reproachful.  “Taeyeon,” Baekhyun says, voice light and bright as Taeyeon arches one eyebrow in indication of his presence.  “Just wanted to say I think you’re great and say you look particularly gorgeous today.”  He smiles and his eyes do that whole ‘eye smile’ thing he boasts about.

 

Yoona looks mildly repulsed at Baekhyun’s antics.  Taeyeon looks very mildly amused and entirely uninterested.  “Byun, are you always so greasy?” Yoona asks as Taeyeon gives a soft laugh.

 

“Some people don’t mind the grease,” Baekhyun says and Jongin grimaces at his textbook as Yifan feels roughly exactly the as Yoona’s facial expression.  Baekhyun looks very pleased with himself.

 

“Bite me,” Yoona says, slipping an arm around Taeyeon’s and pulling her off as she tries to hide her relatively judgmental laughter behind a hand.

 

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Baekhyun says far too loudly for the library as the girls walk past and finally turns back to the table.  “See?  Did that look hard?”

 

“She shot you down,” Yifan points out, eyes flickering to where Taeyeon is still struggling with her laughter and Yoona is clearly judging her friend.  “How was that helpful?”

 

“No,” Baekhyun corrects.  Jongin is now judging him as well.  This makes it two against one, though Yifan is more of just looking suffering at Baekhyun and most of his facial expressions look like judgment. “Yoona shot me down.  There is difference.”  Baekhyun grins and looks completely assured with himself.  “You just say stuff and talk to people.  It’s not that hard, even for you.”

 

“That wasn’t condescending at all,” Jongin grumbles from his notes and Yifan has to agree with the sarcastic comment, especially if Baekhyun’s self satisfied grin is anything to go by.  “Just talk to him,” Jongin tries again, looking tired as he looks up at Yifan.  “And try not to be creepy.  Or talk about weird stuff.  Yeah.”

 

Yifan goes back to his drawing of an owl and his notes on Art History which seem to taunt him instead of help him.

 

 

-

 

 

“Do you have any idea what we’re supposed to be looking for?”

 

Yifan jumps so suddenly he’s pretty sure that the loud crunching sound his chair just made is most definitely not good.  The fact that about every student near him is now looking at him as he had also managed to nearly shove his book off his desk also doesn’t help matters.  Trying to calm down his racing pulse, he wets his lips, sinking down in his chair and praying he did just hear things as he turns to look to the side and prays.

 

Lu Han is watching him, head still turned slightly to the side to look at him and an amused smile is on his mouth as his eyes glint slightly in the light from the projector.  Yifan is very glad it’s dark in the room because he can feel his face heat at the completely unexpected attention.

 

Breathe.  “What?” Yifan asks and does an excellent job at keeping his voice quiet despite how very not quiet his internal thoughts might be at the moment.

 

“I’m just,” Lu Han pauses before looking back at the slides they’re looking at regarding statues and the like.  “Why doesn’t it have arms?”

 

Yifan blinks.  Lu Han is talking about the class.  He is asking about the class and what they are studying.  He is asking Yifan about the class in a casual conversation in the middle of the class.  He is asking Yifan a question in class and talking to him like this is totally normal and Yifan can actually answer the question in a competent normal person way.

 

Which, Yifan realizes with a thrill, he can.

 

“It’s a bust,” Yifan says, leaning forward slightly so as to keep his voice down but so that Lu Han can still hear him.  Lu Han helpfully leans closer.  Yifan’s fingers grip his pen so tight it might break as Lu Han’s face scrunches up.  “It’s a torso piece, just showing a person’s chest, and head and shoulders.  They don’t add the arms.”

 

Lu Han looks confused by this.  “That’s kind of stupid though, isn’t it?” he says, looking back at the slide of the bust and squinting, pointing idly with his pen.  “I mean, did the first model for these things not have arms or something?”

 

Yifan looks at Lu Han and stares.  He looks at the way Lu Han’s mouth curves in the hint of a smile even if his eyebrows suggest he’s still confused over the concept of a bust.  Yifan can understand, seeing as most things regarding the concept of anything beyond physics and trig seem to send him spinning in circles.  Yifan looks at Lu Han and says, “They probably did.  But can you imagine a statue of just a persons upper chest and then their arms just hanging there on a pedestal?”

 

Yifan watches Lu Han and expects him to ignore him, smile at the comment and turn away.  Yifan isn’t really known for being the funny guy in his friend group.  Baekhyun usually is the self-proclaimed humorous member while Jongdae quietly cracks jokes in the background underhandedly.  Yifan doesn't expect Lu Han’s eyes to go wide before he seems to lurch forward slightly and seem to have a small coughing fit.  It is with delayed shock that Yifan realizes he’s not dying.

 

Lu Han is laughing.  Lu Han is quietly having a small sort of laughing fit atop the desk in the middle of class while the professor goes on and on about the properties of a particular bust and Yifan is having an out of body experience.

 

Lu Han is laughing because of something he said.  Yifan is staring at him as Lu Han slowly lets out a sort of wheezing cough and pushes himself back up, looks at the new image of another bust, and snorts very loudly.

 

Yifan can’t stop staring at him.  He’s seen Lu Han laugh from afar before, but up close it’s like watching someone enjoy something unrestrictedly and fully with all of themselves and he can’t look away.  For years, Yifan has hidden his own laughter behind his hands and a controlled mouth and only completely opened up and laughed openly when he was with friends.  But Lu Han, Lu Han laughs without care, just simply letting out his humor and embracing it fully.  Yifan hopes one day to be as carefree and open.

 

Lu Han, hands pressed to his mouth and pen dropped on the floor as he fights to keep quiet, is the embodiment of a person unrestricted in their entirety.

 

Yifan swallows with difficulty as Lu Han finally seems to calm himself down enough to lean back and say, “That was the most amazing mental image.”  Yifan feels like if he were an element, he’d be phosphorous.  “Art History isn’t nearly as boring today now.”  He smiles.  Even in the dim light of the dark lecture room, slides of art flickering over the screen as the professor drones, Lu Han smiling is the most brilliant thing Yifan has ever seen.

 

“Anytime,” Yifan manages to fumble out of his mouth with a grin he catches just before it gets too big.

 

Lu Han nods, slowly as if not entirely sure if he’s completely committing to the action as he turns back to the front of the room.  Then his head is whipping back and Yifan tries to ignore the little jump in his chest.  “Hey, you’re Jongin’s friend right?” Lu Han asks, voice still hushed even as he looks curiously at Yifan.

 

Yifan has only really ever talked in class a few times before.  Most of the time he is far too focused on the teacher and catching what is being taught as the focus of the lesson.  But this is art history and Lu Han is right there talking to him and the kid in front of him has been asleep on his desk since five minutes into the class.  “Yeah,” Yifan says, mouth feeling dry and no matter how many times he swallows he doesn’t seem to have enough spit.

 

Another smile spreads over Lu Han’s face as his eyes crinkle and the wrinkles of laughter that crease his eyes seem worn with the ease of happiness.  “I thought I recognized you,” Lu Han says.

 

This time Yifan doesn’t really suppress the smile that stretches over his mouth.  He can’t.

 

 

-

 

 

Lu Han runs from class every day because he usually needs to grab food from the mess before his late afternoon labs.  The reason he has to grab food is that he often times never has time with the four hours solid block of classes he has from ten until two that he signed up for.  So instead, he grabs a meal, usually picks up a bit of extra review time before heading off to his practically evening labs before running to soccer practice.  The vast majority of Lu Han’s schedule seems incredibly hectic and intense, full of disorganization, rushed meals and activity.

 

This is primarily because Lu Han is a premed student aiming to spend the rest of his life being a doctor.  On top of his studies, he is also the captain of the soccer team and keeping his scholarship intact as well as working to scrape cash for basic life essentials.  In other words, Lu Han has a vaguely chaotic life, or at least he tells Yifan so nonchalantly as he shoves another mouthful of peas between his lips.

 

They’re sitting in the mess, Yifan somehow managing to get Lu Han to linger at the end of class with expectantly watching eyes as he grabbed his arm impulsively.  It’s about thirty minutes before Lu Han has to do his labs and he’s his books in his bag and is in the middle of his ‘late lunch’ as he tells Yifan the various small details of his world.  “What about you?” Lu Han asks, glancing up as he stabs at the pile of gravy and something on his plate.  It was once French Fries but looks nothing like that anymore.  “What do you do?  Aside from art history and hang out with Jongin?”

 

Hands pressed palms together and stuck firmly between his thighs to keep them from making too many gestures or embarrassing him, Yifan frowns slightly.  “Uh,” he says, trying to remember what he is in university for as Lu Han looks at him patiently.  “I’m an English major,” he finally says and half smiles.  His major had sounded perfectly safe and normal when he declared.  Now it just sounds lame compared to the Chinese pre med soccer star eating lunch at 3:25 across from him.

 

Lu Han’s tongue is sticking out of his mouth.  Yifan flounders for words.  “Cool,” Lu Han says finally, shoving another large mouthful of food onto his spoon.  “I didn't know if you were also an art history dude or something.”

 

Yifan just shakes his head as Lu Han shovels another bite into his mouth.  “No,” he adds, in case Lu Han hadn’t seen him shake his head ‘no’.  “I’m not an Art History major.  Just English.”  Double major in Creative Writing and Journalism but Yifan isn’t about to add that.  It just sounds obsessive.  This is the first time he’s actually had a conversation with Lu Han.  No need to overload him with information.  “Art history is just an elective for the fine art requirement.”

 

“Man,” Lu Han says, shaking his head and sitting up, tapping his spoon against his plate.  “Same here.”  He sighs.  Yifan thinks he looks tired.  “I swear, that class is the worst decision I could have made for these stupid things.  I am never trusting Chanyeol on class recommendations ever again.”

 

Yifan has no idea who this ‘Chanyeol’ is but decides he should nod and look like he knows what Lu Han is talking about.  “It is a bit silly,” he adds, even if the work isn’t that bad and so far they haven’t had nearly the reading or coursework of some of Yifan’s other classes.  He can’t even imagine what the course load for a premed student might be like.  Probably about the same as Joonmyun who constantly seems to be suffering under piles of political science.  Or life, he can’t usually tell the difference.  “At least the work isn’t that bad.”

 

Lu Han is looking at him suspiciously, head turned slightly to the side and eyes narrowed and Yifan has no idea if he’s been muttering to himself or not or what he may have possibly done wrong.  The last thing he wants is to have annoyed Lu Han or messed up any possible potential for a prospective relationship with him.  “Really?”

 

This is worse than internship interviews.

 

“Yes?” Yifan answers and shoves his hands further between his thighs under the table.  Lu Han raises one eyebrow at him in question and Yifan swallows.  “I don’t know, I don’t think it’s that bad.  It’s just art-“

 

“What’s your grade in the class?” Lu Han asks suddenly and Yifan starts.

 

It is now nearing the end of the first month of the fall semester.  They have been taking this class for just over three weeks.  They have had to turn into about three assignments, which are all basic summaries and analysis on stuff as well as a tentative proposal on their midterm paper.  Yifan so far is pretty sure his GPA for the course is around a steady 96.  Yifan shouldn’t be curious, especially since he knows Lu Han is also on the Dean’s List along with him.  But…  “Why?”

 

Lu Han is asking Yifan what his possible grade in the class is because apparently despite what Chanyeol told him, he can’t actually ‘just sleep and do fine.’  Apparently this Chanyeol dude actually has some sort of innate art history absorption abilities, because it’s been nearly a month, and Lu Han can’t get past how ‘cubism’ is about art style and not geometry.

 

Lu Han is asking Yifan what his grade in Art History 201B is because Lu Han is failing.  Lu Han is asking, because he wants to know if Yifan understands any better than he does.

 

Yifan laughs nervously as Lu Han tells him this and feels a tiny bit hysterical as Lu Han says “can I borrow your notes sometime?  I never know what to take notes on” because his notes have small drawings of Sahara animals on them.

 

 

-

 

 

“I think he’s in shock.”

 

Yifan casually puts his hand over Jongdae’s face and pushes him away.  Far away from where had been leaning in far too close for comfort and making Yifan go slightly cross-eyed as he tried to look at him.  Jongdae thankfully is a good sport and simply flops back into his chair grinning like an excited 80 year old fifth grader.  His face somehow manages, to Yifan’s never ending amazement, to look both youthful and vibrant despite having more wrinkles than his father when he smiles.

 

“I am not in shock,” Yifan tries to negate.  This is a little hard though, considering he still feels like he has cotton in his mouth.  Lu Han had brofisted him before running of to class and Yifan never wants to wash his hand again.  “I’m just-“

 

“Flabbergasted,” Amber helpfully supplies not even looking up from her computer.  “Yifan is flabbergasted at the mere thought that Lu Han the super human deigns to know he breathes.”

 

Yifan frowns at his friend.  Jongdae grins delightedly at everyone.  Joonmyun looks confused at another packet of reading and is holding two highlighters in one hand.  “I’m just-“

 

Winded.  That seems to be about the only way Yifan can explain it.  He’s winded, mostly in that he’s been trying to comprehend that he and Lu Han somehow went from never talking to tentatively talking about Art History this coming Sunday.  He’s winded, because somehow breathing properly is something he forgot how to do when Lu Han half remembered his name earlier.

 

“Can we please remember what he called you?” Baekhyun says before bursting out into laughter again.  “Because that will never get old.”

 

“To you,” Joonmyun says, sighing as he looks between his two highlighters, quietly asking them which one will help him remember things better.  “The rest of us stopped finding it funny about five seconds after he told us.”

 

“Ten seconds,” Amber amends.

 

“Fifteen,” Jongdae corrects.  Yifan still is frowning.

 

“I still find it hilarious,” Baekhyun giggles in a way that highly contradicts his constant ‘manliest man of the men’ proclamations.  “What was it he called you again?  Yivan?”  Baekhyun is grinning like he’s the biggest asshole alive.  “Heefan?  Weeman?”  Baekhyun snorts into laughter at his own joke.

 

“You’re a huge flaming asshole, you know that?” Jongdae comments idly as he watches Baekhyun with a careless smile.  Baekhyun keels over into the table snorting with laughter wheezing “Peecan!”

 

Fortunately for Yifan, Lu Han hadn’t been nearly as horrific when he had managed to mostly recall almost all of Yifan’s name.  Yifan almost let it go, but having Lu Han go around for the remainder of their friendship calling him ‘Lifan’ isn’t exactly something he feels he should be satisfied with.  Lu Han had looked extremely apologetic as soon as Yifan had corrected him though, to the point that Yifan nearly said “You can call me Lifan if you want though” before realizing fortunately that sounded truly and utterly pathetic.

 

“The important part,” Jia says as she reaches over and grabs Baekhyun firmly and viciously at the back of his neck, earning a high snuffled yelp.  “Is that you have finally managed to break through that mental block and are talking with him now.”

 

“Studying, technically,” Yifan corrects, because the fact that he spent a good thirty minutes talking to Lu Han in the mess is still sinking in and spreading like happy fire ants through his circulatory system.  “We’re studying.”

 

“Which involves talking,” Jongdae points out.  Yifan vaguely realizes that he is, once more, surrounded by J names.  Sans Jongin, who is off being athletic and a soccer bro until 8 PM when he will come and put his face against the table to moan in pain.  “You’re slowly on your way to becoming a semi-socially competent person regarding Lu Han and his thousands of friends.”

 

Yifan lets out a surprised sort a strangled laugh sound that has the majority of the table looking at him.  Joonmyun reaches across the table and pats his hand with a highlighter.  “You’ll be okay,” he tells Yifan with a wincing smiling face.  “I believe in you.”

 

“And coming from Joonmyun, that means a lot,” Jongdae says, putting on his ‘really’ face.  Which is not that much different from his ‘I am completely skeptically serious about life’ face.

 

Yifan makes another weird laughing sound before looking down at his composition essay and the mess of scribbles he has written into the edited margins.  Yeah, Sunday is going to go swell.

 

The phone against his textbook buzzes gently and rattles against the surface of the table.  It would be considered loud in the library, but seeing as the table is already being unacceptably loud in his opinion for the study area, he ignores this fact and just grabs it.  He has a text which sends his heart into his nose as he looks at the sender.

 

He and Lu Han had exchanged numbers before separating, Yifan trying not to smile like an idiot and drop his phone while Lu Han looked at his phone like it was from another galaxy.  Yifan had texted Lu Han awkwardly to make sure they were on the same messenger system.  Just in case.  To check.  He had mentioned he hoped Lu Han had a good day and see him on Sunday.

 

I had a pretty good day in the end because I made a new friend.  IT'S YOU!  See you Sunday. *thumbs up emoticon*

 

Yifan’s stomach falls out of his feet.  Or at least it feels like that.

 

 

-

 

 

The table in the upper levels of the mezzanine that is surrounded by art history books and soft squishy chairs and nice old tables in good lighting and with a short walk to the bathroom is where Yifan makes sure to grab a spot on Sunday afternoon.  The lighting is good, he has his notebooks, his text book, pens, erasers, pencils, and laptop.  Yifan is not a tutor for the art history department, but he is meeting Lu Han here to study the subject and he doesn't want to look like a complete and utter moron.

 

They had agreed to meet at some normal person time like two in the afternoon for their study session (not study date).  Yifan messages Lu Han where he is and gets back a sweet bro in return that makes him feel giddy.  This is happening.  Yifan tries not to keep his books too organized and obsessively ordered on the desk.  Appear cool, like studying with Lu Han isn’t making his heart hammer.

 

“Hey,” Lu Han says, startling Yifan from going over what notes might be useful or not.

 

Hi.  Hello.  Hey.  Sup. Ayo.  Oh you.  Salutations.  Yifan goes through a long stream of greetings and ends up saying “Ahh,” as Lu Han flops carelessly into the chair next to him with a loud groan that isn’t okay for the library.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” Lu Han sighs, leaning forward to dig through is backpack and his zip-up hoodie falls about him flatteringly.  His hair is standing up in almost every direction.  He looks really amazing and Yifan thinks he may have just rolled out of bed.  Yifan spent an hour on his appearance this morning.  Yifan spends an hour on his appearance every morning.  Lu Han is flawless.  “I ran into some friends on the way here.”

 

“It’s fine,” Yifan says.  Because it is.  It’s totally fine and he understands that Lu Han has a lot of friends and people who want to talk to him and he wants to talk to.  He doesn’t know Yifan all that well.  They’re not friends or anything.  The thought of them being friends makes his chest feel weird and light.  He mentally shakes himself.  Study session (not date) presses his focus, his tongue darting out to his lips as he looks at his notes, then Lu Han and wets his lips again.  “Where is it you wanted to start?”

 

Lu Han gives him a smile that looks half apologetic and half pained.

 

Lu Han really doesn’t understand Art History.  Yifan understands this quickly, and it is only further complicated when Lu Han seems to be also a bit hazy on the flowered language in the art history texts and why he needs to understand the artistic interpretation of so many things.  “Math is easier,” Lu Han says with a groan, slouched over entirely in his chair and face pressed into his art history book.  “Why can’t art be like math?  Or science?”

 

“Because it isn’t?”  Yifan has no idea what to say.  Consoling has never been something he’s good at, which is why Jongin has other friends in his life despite how they are best friends.  Jongin just happens to have a lot more delicate feelings than himself.  Yifan’s feelings are just complicated and sometimes weird.  Like now, where looking at Lu Han with his face stuck to an art history book is giving him the stomach wiggles.  “Art is about being creative and individual and the perception of one person towards the rest of the world.  There are specific styles that are used but overall, it’s the general work of an individual and their concept of the world.”

 

“Maaaaaaath,” Lu Han moans into his book and pulls his hood over his face with a grimace.

 

Yifan feels slightly helpless in the face of a slightly frustrated Lu Han beside him.  “We can do math later?”  They’ve been in here for an hour.  “Just try to get through the first few chapters, then we can take a break and look at trig or advanced calculus or whatever.”

 

“That’s totally math,” Lu Han says, rolling over to the side slightly, smiling up at Yifan as his eyes crease.  Then he’s sitting up with a sigh to slouch once more into his chair in a splay of limbs and with his textbook open in his lap.  He holds out his hand expectantly to Yifan.  Yifan stares at it, then stares at Lu Han and wonders just what he’s supposed to do with it.  “Notes?” Lu Han prompts.

 

Yifan’s notes are currently nearly stacked in his notebook binder and have lots of doodles and squiggles on them.  “What about your notes?”

 

“You mean the small notes I wrote to myself which basically all say ‘why is it called a bust when there aren’t even boobs?’  Those notes?”  Lu Han asks and Yifan stares at him with his mouth slowly dropping open.

 

“Yes?”  Probably not the correct answer.

 

“I vote we don’t use those,” Lu Han says with a small laugh and Yifan joins him without really knowing why.  “You seem to always know what you’re doing when you take notes though.”  His hand is still lying open and expectant.

 

This is bad.  Because if Lu Han sees Yifan’s notes, he will probably think a variety of things.  First is that Yifan clearly is obsessive compulsive regarding his note taking and writes down almost everything the professor says regardless of whether he can find it in the book or not.  Second in that Yifan also has the habit of drawing little things in the margins that may or may not be either genius works of art himself or unidentifiable blobs.  Third is that Yifan is pretty sure his penmanship rivals that of his 5 year old cousins and his cousin is quickly beating him in skill.  His cousin who still thinks ‘lobster’ is still spelled ‘robstir’.

 

“Why don't we just have you taking new notes?” Yifan proposes, trying to smile in suggestion of the better idea as Lu Han lets his head roll to he side as he observes him.  “They say writing down stuff helps you remember it and understand.”

 

Lu Han, eyes fixed on Yifan and making his temperature rise as he frowns slightly, eyebrows knit and teeth gently pressing into his lower lip, finally nods.  “Worth a shot,” he says, sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees, tapping Yifan’s pen from the first class against his textbook as he grabs for his notebook.  “Whenever you’re ready, ye of the humanities.”

 

Yifan has done tutoring before.  He is actually a registered English tutor at the student center and occasionally works there on Mondays and Wednesdays.  However, no amount of teaching half terrified Freshman about prose could prepare him for slowly reviewing the chapters of their shared art history course with Lu Han.  Lu Han turns out to be an excellent student, listening and nodding and Yifan finds himself smiling happily every time Lu Han makes a comment that is relevant to the text.  And is correct.

 

They make it to chapter three before Yifan looks up and stops in mid sentence, seeing Lu Han with his head dipped down, eyes closed and neck cricked slightly as he is clearly asleep.  He looks so natural, so quiet and innocent and calm sitting, well slumped really, in the squashy chair, arms limp and text book open to the correct page as his pen nearly falls out of his pen.  His head lolls gently, rocking on his neck and favoring one side as his mouth is parted just slightly.  His eyelashes are dark against the pale skin of his cheeks, much like his eyebrows stand in dramatic contrast, setting against his face and the slightly stiff blond hair brushing over his forehead.

 

Perhaps they’ll take a break from studying for the afternoon.  Lu Han clearly needs one anyway.

 

Gently, quietly, so as not to disturb the slumbering soccer player and his awkwardly splayed limbs, Yifan takes notebook about to fall to the ground and puts it on the small table between them.  Then he sits back, watching as Lu Han’s head falls to his shoulder and his mouth opens just a bit more, and bites his lip.  He takes out the book he’s supposed to be reading for his modern fiction class.

 

The problem with sitting with popular star soccer players that have been idolized and admired and potentially crushed on for close to two years is that they’re extremely distracting.  Yifan spends about as much time getting through his reading as he does looking up to check on Lu Han and ending up just taking in the other for long periods of time.  Lu Han is now sunk down so far into his chair it looks like it might swallow him, sweatshirt bunched up around his torso and a small sliver of his tummy visible.  Yifan tries very hard not to look at it, instead keeping his eyes fixed on Lu Han’s sleeping face, his mouth hanging open and drooling slightly into the fabric of his sweatshirt.  He twitches every so often, shifting and murmuring slightly.

 

Dinner? comes in a text from Jongin around six and has Yifan grabbing his phone to keep it from buzzing, glancing hastily at Lu Han.  Lu Han mumbles something that sounds like it might be insulting as he snuffles further into the chair and shoves his face into the side of the armrest.

 

I’m still studying Yifan messages back, trying not to let the small jump in his chest overwhelm him too much.

 

With Lu Han?

 

Yes.  Mostly if not entirely giddy.

 

How’s that going?

 

Good.  Yifan looks up to glance at Lu Han, feeling a smile pull at his mouth.  Well, I think so.  He’s sleeping at the moment.

 

It is a long time before Jongin messages him back.  You’re just sitting there watching him sleep aren’t you?

 

Yifan frowns at his phone.  He’d rather frown at Jongin but that would require leaving the library and Lu Han and he’s not really sure he can do that.  They still have two more chapters to review.  I am not, I’m reading.  ‘Trying to’ his mind supplies.

 

Jongin, as it turns out, is the only real friend Yifan has and he laughs quietly as he turns up twenty minutes later with two take away containers from the mess and places them on the small study table.  “Save some for him,” Jongin says around a breadstick he’s gnawing on.

 

“I will,” Yifan promises, as he looks over the food thankfully.

 

“Enjoy your study date,” Jongin says with a smirk and Yifan would like to snap and frown and huff at him that it isn’t a date but his heart is jumping in his throat and he can’t be loud in a library.  Jongin just grins at him before shuffling off hastily through the stacks of books, his backpack bouncing.

 

It’s not a study date, Yifan says firmly in his brain as he looks over at Lu Han who is now making soft breathing sounds, his textbook slipping out of his lap.  His mouth goes dry at how close the other is, how Yifan can just reach out and brush his fingers against Lu Han’s face, draw down his cheek to the small patch of stubble that Lu Han missed this morning when shaving.

 

It’s not a study date, but Yifan has to admit that he wouldn’t mind if it was.

 

 

-

 

 

“If he doesn’t improve in that class, I’m hitting you,” Jongin deadpans at Yifan Wednesday morning over breakfast.  Yifan frowns at him over oatmeal.  “We can’t lose our captain this far into the season.”

 

Yifan thinks back to the conversation with Lu Han and what he learned amid bites of food.  How Lu Han is just as focused on his academics as his team and his stress lately had been due to losing both due to just having too much to do.  Yifan looks at Jongin and judges him as a bad friend for not considering Lu Han’s own stress.  “He’ll be fine,” Yifan says firmly.

 

“You spent seven hours with him in the library on Sunday,” Jongin says, wincing as he takes another sip of the mess coffee.  “I should hope you two got some studying done.  Or were you just telling him how great he is?”

 

“Do I look like Baekhyun?” Yifan grumbles, taking a sip of his own coffee.  He winces as well.  The problem with mess hall coffee is that it tastes like death but is sadly entirely necessary to survive most of the time.  Jongin usually loads his with about four spoonfulls of sugar.  Yifan shudders.

 

“No, but I think that’s a good thing,” Jongin tells him with a small amused smile.  Jongin looks tired, which is technically normal for a morning when he typically looks like he’s just recovered from a coma.  “How’s the whole friendship thing going, by the way?”

 

Yesterday had been art history class.  Lu Han had smiled at him upon arriving for class.  Yifan had smiled back and asked him how he was.  They talked for two minutes about the weather before class stared.  It was awesome.

 

“Great,” Yifan says and smiles like he does only when around his friends.  Which, basically, means Jongin, Jongdae, Joonmyun, and Jia (see? J friends).  He sometimes smiles like that around Baekhyun but Baekhyun usually laughs at pats his face forcefully telling him he looks like a dinosaur.

 

Most of the time, Yifan doesn’t entirely understand why he’s friends with Baekhyun.  Though, to be fair, most people who are friends with Baekhyun also seem to wrestle with this dilemma.

 

“Do you two have friendship bracelets yet?” Jongin asks nonchalantly as he stabs a spoon into his cereal.

 

“No,” Yifan says, pulling out his planner and once more checking his lectures for the day.  “I don’t think Lu Han would be the kind to want friendship bracelets.”  Or couple bracelets his mind unhelpfully supplies.  Friendship.  Yifan is okay with friendship.  The fact that Lu Han remembers half of his name is enough for him at the moment.  Friendship.

 

Jongin stares at him for a moment before sighing, shaking his head and going back to his cereals.

 

They are supposed to be working on their midterm reports, something which Yifan had chosen from one of the earlier examples the professor talked about earlier in the semester and already has a pretty solid paper outlined.  He wonders what Lu Han has chosen as he walks into art history on Thursday and finds the other slumped into his desk again.

 

Yifan wonders what has him so tired.  Probably soccer.  Even Jongin is looking harried these days, dark circles under his eyes and muttering to himself and avoiding talking entirely about practice or the team members.  They must all be stressed.

 

“How are you?” Yifan asks because it’s the standard safe question for opening a conversation.  Yifan at least knows how most conversation works.  Lu Han groans loudly and pulls the drawstrings of his hood so the fabric scrunches and hides his face from view.  “That bad, huh?” Yifan asks, sitting down into his chair carefully and pulling out his books.  “Is it soccer?”  Moan.  “Ah.”  Silence.  “How are classes?”  Groan ending in a whine.  “I see.”  Silence.  “Got any cool plans for the weekend.”  Small grunt.  “Sounds like fun.”

 

The professor walks in and marks the end of their conversation for the time being.

 

Lu Han actually sits up and squints at the professor once he begins to talk, pulling his hood open and beginning to take notes, staring hard at the slides with his tongue between his lips.  Yifan glances to him the entire class as he jots down notes.  He has most of the material from class even more firmly cemented into his mind after the study session on Sunday.  At the end of class, Lu Han turns to him as they pack up their things, not sprinting from the room like he had on Tuesday.  “Can we do the whole study thing again on Sunday?” he asks and Yifan nearly drops his pen.

 

Two.  Weekends.  In a row.  It’s like Lu Han actually wants to spend time.  With him.  Regularly.

 

“Yeah,” Yifan says, fumbling to stand up.  The pen is safe on the floor.  It can stay there for the moment.  “Yeah, that’s fine.  Perfect.  Same time?”

 

Lu Han hums and nods, scratching at the side of his face as he looks around.  “Yeah, if that’s okay.  Maybe work on our papers or something.”

 

“Yeah,” Yifan says, feeling his control on his smile slipping fast.  “Sounds great.”

 

Lu Han smiles and waves a half wave at him before jogging from class and leaving Yifan to reach down and grab his dropped pen, smile splitting onto his face completely unrestricted.

 

 

-

 

 

Where are you?  I swear I’ve looked everywhere and I need someone to sit and you’re always here.

 

Yifan presses his lips together, glancing at the message on his phone in conflict.  Jongin is his study buddy.  Jongin is his best friend.  Jongin and he usually spend Sundays studying in the library.  It’s one of the few days Jongin doesn’t hang out with the soccer team and dance company and his other ‘friends’ that Yifan never really felt comfortable with.  It’s the one day of the week when it’s really just them, nestled in the stacks and doing work quietly.

 

Today is Sunday and Lu Han is hunched chewing on a pencil in a red hoodie beside Yifan and his stomach clenches uncomfortably.  I’m busy?

 

Lu Han scratches a hand through his short cropped blond hair, sighing.

 

Busy as in you’re not in the library or as in you’re here but with Lu Han?

 

So far, Yifan is pretty sure Jongin is the only member of the soccer team that knows where Lu Han is on Sundays.  He’s not sure if this makes him happy or uncomfortable.  It’s hard to get past the weirdly giddy feeling which has been plaguing him since Lu Han smiled at him as he shoved peas into his mouth and still managed to look flawless.

 

Busy as in Art History is confusing?

 

Lu Han is writing something down into his notebook with a small frown.  He tilts his head to the side as he does so, shoulder of his sweatshirt slipping off.  He has large tired lines around his eyes.

 

Have fun.  I won’t bother you.

 

Jongin, even if he does make blunt and occasionally hard remarks, is still probably the best friend Yifan has ever had.

 

“How you doing?” Yifan ventures to ask as Lu Han sighs and slumps back into his chair.  Lu Han slaps the textbook in his lap in reply and levels a look at Yifan.  “Have you made any progress at least?”

 

“I don’t think I even understand the topic I chose,” Lu Han admits as he scribbles circle designs all over his notebook.  “Nor do I understand what the end of the chapter is talking about.”  He sighs, leaning his head back.  “Can we just do chem instead?  Or nap?  I’d really like a nap about now.”

 

Lu Han looks exhausted.  “Long night?” Yifan asks.  He can guess, judging from the text messages from Jongin last night after their away game which started along the lines of ‘WE WON!’ and ended in ‘8M doo000iu ruFUIgjh drRUU789uullK’ around two am.  Luckily for Jongin, he seems to be immune to hangovers and is still as brilliantly grumpy in the morning as he is after a good thirteen hours of wholesome rest.

 

Lu Han doesn’t seem to share this trait however.  “There have been longer,” Lu Han tells him, drawing what is a pretty good doodle of a flower on his notebook.  He adds a bumblebee as Yifan watches him.  It looks amazingly very much like a bumblebee.

 

Lu Han is, in short, perfection.

 

“Want to take a break?” Yifan asks.  They can take a break.  That’s allowed.  Yifan can allow that if Lu Han can allow that and they can sit and, you know, talk or something and Yifan can for the briefest moment imagine that they’re friends.

 

“Nap,” Lu Han says with a grunt.

 

“You took a nap last weekend,” Yifan says.

 

Lu Han hums happily as his eyes close and he slides down until his butt is actually out of the seat of the chair he was previously sitting in.  “It was so nice,” Lu Han sighs before opening his eyes and looking at Yifan.

 

“You seemed to be enjoying it,” Yifan says and then determinately fights down the heat that rises on his face because this implies that Yifan was watching Lu Han as he took his nap.  That is something which is decidedly creepy in all terms of society.

 

Lu Han doesn’t seem to notice to the comment though, instead just sighing and looking tired as he flips through the pages of the art history book and his knee bounces slightly.  “I always enjoy sleeping,” Lu Han says, pushing his hand through his hair.  Yifan has begun to notice that Lu Han’s hairstyle is more because he continuously pushes it straight off his forehead.  “Everyone should enjoy sleeping.  Not liking sleeping is like not liking being healthy.”  Lu Han chews his lip, making it bruised and red when he finally releases it and looks at Yifan.  “You know, the human body can only go, like, three days without sleep before it begins to shut down?  People go insane because the brain just can’t be awake for that long.”

 

Yifan isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be fascinated or not.  Honestly, though, Lu Han is talking and that’s fascinating enough.  “Good thing you like sleep then,” Yifan says for lack of better comment.

 

“All the more reason we should take a nap,” Lu Han says, nodding firmly.

 

Lu Han still has to finish the chapter they’re working on.  Yifan finished it on Friday and is working on his research paper for the midterms, a few weeks before it’s due but might as well get it out of the way soon.  “What about finishing the chapter and then napping?” Yifan suggests.  He knows Lu Han has a lot going on, so it makes sense that he’d have other things that come before art history.

 

There is a brief pause in which Lu Han seems to contemplate this as an option he can take.  Then he sighs and looks down at his book and says “But it still doesn’t make sense.”  He looks up, frowning and Yifan’s system buzzes gently.  “Do you have any idea what this is talking about?”

 

The problem, or perhaps benefit though most likely health hazard of studying and helping Lu Han a bit with his art history mental block is that Lu Han seems to have no awareness of personal space.  Meaning that when Yifan goes to explain what he interpreted the chapter to be about and how it’s relevant, Lu Han nearly is leaning on top of him and Yifan isn’t used to him being that close.  Or anyone being that close, for that matter.  He and Jongin have a purely ‘keep the distance’ clause in their friendship.  Not that Yifan or Jongin isn’t touchy with people, just with each other it feels incestuous.

 

Lu Han apparently has no regard what so ever for personal space though as he practically leans enough that Yifan can smell his shampoo and the linger of deodorant. Lu Han frowns at the textbook Yifan is trying to explain without his voice cracking.  Yifan is beginning to wonder if this is still primarily his admiring Lu Han and looking up to him as an impressive superior to himself and role model or if this is now bordering along the adoration and admiring that hinges on other ‘feelings.’  Mostly of the romantic notion which he, for the most part, has done an excellent job of shoving down to stew.

 

Luckily, his voice remains mostly steady as Lu Han nods every now and then at the explanation before finally settling back into his chair, leaving Yifan to breathe like a normal person.  Lu Han finishes the chapter, pulls out his proposal and barely touched research paper project, and frowns.  When Yifan glanced over twenty minutes later, he’s nodding, eyes drooping closed.  He pauses, pen poised just over his paper as Lu Han nods a few more times, eyes snapping open only to cloud quickly and his head drops.  Then his head tilts to the side, dropping gently and he doesn’t move, clearly asleep.

 

Yifan finds himself smiling.  He knows Lu Han must be tired.  They had a game yesterday and Yifan knows from Jongin the soccer team is not half assed on their victories.  Which is why he turns and quietly repositions his books in his lap, glancing every now and then to Lu Han who is still sleeping gently, slowly slipping further and deeper into the comfy chair in the library.

 

Yifan finishes his art history.  He then also finishes the brief essay write up he needed to do for his film class and, figuring he can take a break, spends a bit of time doodling before he will start on his Creative Writing assignment.  Not entirely sure what he’s drawing, he just starts it.  He likes drawing, even if he isn't the best at it, he still likes it.  He enjoys it.  It’s kind of fun seeing the little shapes and animals and drawings he makes even if they’re not really something he’d show everyone he meets with glowing pride.

 

“What are you doing?” has him nearly falling out of his seat in surprise as a voice sounds about three centimeters from Yifan’s ear and scares the living daylights out of him.  Lu Han is watching him in mild amusement as he manages to nearly fall out of his chair.  He’s pretty sure if he had thrown out his arm in surprise, Lu Han would have been backhanded in the face.  Yifan’s heart is pounding.

 

“Nothing,” Yifan says, righting himself in his chair and coughing slightly, trying to fight down the burning embarrassment that spreads over his face.  He hadn’t even known Lu Han was awake.  “How was your nap?”

 

Distraction doesn’t work.  “What is that?” Lu Han seems far too interested in the drawing Yifan had been making, appearing to be only made more insistent in his curiosity as Yifan puts his hands over the drawing.  It’s nothing really, and he tries to smile nonchalantly as he presses his hands firmly over his paper as Lu Han reaches own to pry at his fingers.  “Nothing important,” Yifan says, tightening his fingers around the paper as Lu Han tries to pull his hands away.  It’s like the harder Yifan makes it for Lu Han to see the stupid drawing, the more interested and determined Lu Han becomes to see it.  “Really-“

 

Panic?  Yeah, something like panic.  And crippling embarrassment and shot nerves because Lu Han is practically jumping on top of him to try to get at the drawing.

 

“Let me see,” Lu Han hush-laugh-demands as he looks at Yifan and his face is really close.  He has immaculate skin and incredibly small pores.

 

Lu Han is perfect.  Yifan’s throat is dry.  His hands go weak and Lu Han looks delighted as he lets them fall from the drawing and then he pauses, staring at the paper full of animals and squiggly designs.

 

A moment of silence for Yifan’s shred of pride.

 

“What is that?” Lu Han asks, frowning with his entire everything in confusion as he taps at the center drawing.

 

Woe.  “A turtle,” Yifan says and feels as small as his voice.

 

Lu Han looks at him.  Lu Han looks at the turtle Yifan drew.  Lu Han glances back at Yifan and then looks down at the turtle and cocks his head to the side.  “Huh,” is all Lu Han says before taking a very deep breath in and then holding it for a moment.  “Really?”

 

“Yes,” Yifan says and it feels like he snaps but he’s still embarrassed.  Lu Han’s eyebrows raise as he looks back at Yifan.

 

“You call that a turtle?”

 

This is the reason Yifan doesn’t show people his drawings.  “Well, it’s not a rock with legs,” he says and frowns at his drawing of a turtle.

 

Lu Han snorts and nearly hits his nose against Yifan’s shoulder.  He’s still very close.  Yifan swallows.  He looks up a second later, eyes dancing and Yifan unconsciously leans away a bit.  “Are you pouting?”

 

“No,” Yifan says immediately and flatly.  He doesn’t pout.  Jongin pouts, a lot, even if he never admits it.  Jongin pouts when he talks.  Yifan doesn’t pout.  His face doesn’t work like that.  Lu Han just makes a snuffling laughing sound again and looks back down at the turtle.

 

“It’s a very interesting interpretation,” Lu Han says, cocking his head the side, moving back slightly.  “You should submit it for class and we can study you instead of whatever the dudes are.”

 

“No thanks,” Yifan says turning away and closing his notebook swiftly.  He’s used to Jongdae and Jia poking fun at his drawings.  He’s used to Baekhyun telling him his blobs look extra amusing today.  He’s used to Joonmyun trying to play the ‘what did Yifan draw’ game and losing spectacularly.  He doesn't like the squirming in his stomach at Lu Han’s lingering eyes on the notebook.  He doesn’t want Lu Han to know that about him and see that part about him.  “I don’t think the class would benefit much, even if my doodles are-“

 

“Funny,” Lu Han says and grins.  Yifan doesn't smile, just picks up his book and tries to ignore the pressing weight in his chest from Lu Han’s words.  He knows he’s not a great artist, but he still likes drawing.  He never meant to show Lu Han.  He never thought he’d even know Lu Han enough that the other would see them.  That was something Yifan hadn’t factored into his ‘one day if Lu Han notices me miraculously’ dreams.

 

They sit for the rest of the afternoon in silence, Lu Han working on his organic chemistry and Yifan editing and writing his paper in his lap.  Lu Han doesn’t say anything about drawings, instead chewing on Yifan’s old pen in between notes and frowning.  He doesn't look at Yifan until he apologizes and excuses himself for dinner after a text.

 

Yifan watches him go and wonders if he texts Lu Han for dinner if the other will say yes and leave something else.  It’s not a positive happy thought but he rolls it over in his mind as he absently draws an owl at the corner of his notes on late Renaissance art.

 

 

-

 

 

The library is too populated apparently.  Yifan sighs, running a hand through his hair as he turns from the atrium and waves half heartedly at Joonmyun as he sits behind the desk and smiles feebly.  Beside him, Jinri is texting on her phone and clearly not paying attention to anything she is doing or could productively be doing.  Turning from his second home on campus, he frowns slightly, looking around and trying to think of where to go next.

 

Technically, the campus is home to many different convenient and nice study locations.  There is the student center, the counseling center, the café, the tutoring center, the second café just off campus, and even the small areas in some of the academic buildings that Yifan could go and sit in to do work in instead.  Or he can go home to his single and sit at his organized desk beside his well-made bed with motivational posters on the wall and stacks of books beside his bed and work there.  Jongin occasionally will ask him why they always study in the library when it might make more sense to just study in Yifan’s room.

 

But Yifan’s room is more like a place of sanctuary, where he sits and rests and reads his books.  He can work there, yes, but he prefers to go home and relax for a bit rather than do nothing but work all the time.  Sure he has his wall calendar plastered in post its with deadlines and memos, but it’s not like Jongdae’s room which is like a small hovel of academic chaos.

 

He sighs, turning down the walk and making his way towards the center of campus, thinking on perhaps wedging himself in the back of the café with books and headphones and blocking out all human contact.  It works better that way, because then he can appear to not be interested in friendship that isn’t really ever offered.

 

Green Tea latte sitting on the table in front of him and less cash on his student ID card, Yifan settles in the back, opening the new contemporary literature book for the week.  Listening to the new music Jongin had shoved onto his computer and, thus, MP3 without permission, Yifan is about four chapters in before he’s distracted.

 

It’s not hard to recognize the soccer team.  Yifan has been watching them for a while.  He knows who they all are for the most part.  Recognizes most of them, even if sometimes their names all meld together but he knows who they are.  It must be after practice, a few of them still with wet hair they shake from their eyes.  They’re all chatting, laughing and enjoying and comfortable together. 

 

Yifan isn’t staring, he’s just observing, watching as he finally spots Lu Han behind the goalie Yifan recognizes as Minho.  He’s laughing at something the tallest member who laughs like a bomb has just said.  To be fair, no one is laughing as hard as the guy who cracked the joke, though Jongin seems to be falling into the brick faced kid.  There is a small urge to wave, do something to get Lu Han’s attention even if it seems mostly preoccupied.

 

Before he can think of anything though, Lu Han’s eyes flash to him in mid laugh and he stills slightly, eyes widening in recognition.  Yifan knows he’s seen him and without thinking raising a hand to wave across the café.  Where everyone can see him.  Waving awkwardly at someone who could be on the soccer team and only he and presumably Lu Han know who it actually is.  Lu Han’s face widens in surprise, expression pushing all of his features wider and for a split second jump of his heart, Yifan thinks he’s going to smile, wave back and maybe even come over to say hi.

 

A small smile.  That’s it.  That’s all Yifan gets for his slightly too big but not really waving and nervous smile as Lu Han nods faintly in his direction before turning back to the team and saying something.  One of the guys beside him laughs and Jongin’s face collapses, his eyes squinting as his mouth drops open and he laughs.  Music playing in his headphones, Yifan can’t hear them, but he can see Lu Han laughing and smiling as he motions through a story.

 

The drop in his stomach isn’t comfortable.  Yifan has been used to being ignored, bypassed and seen as ‘intimidating’ because of his size and preference for being quiet rather than talking the legs off someone.  But it still twists something inside of him when Lu Han essentially ignores him, acts as if he’d barely seen him, and that Yifan isn’t important.

 

Phone sitting on the table, Yifan wonders if he should text about the study session he had hesitantly suggested the other day after class.  With a lot of exhausted faces an sighs, they had turned in their mid term assignments.  So, Yifan remembers, there’s no real reason for Lu Han to hang out with him.

 

Maybe that’s why.

 

It still doesn’t feel nice.

 

 

-

 

 

“What’s that?”  Yifan jumps instinctively, startled from lazily waiting for class to set in.  It’s a little easier to let his mind wander in class now.  He has so much other stuff that’s picking up instead art history isn’t nearly as much work.  He’s kind of gotten into the flow of it, the rhythm and so when Lu Han nearly shouts into his personal space in the middle of concentrated drawing, he nearly has a heart attack.

 

Looking up, Yifan’s mind flashes to the other day, and being ignored.  It’s a little unfair that Lu Han doesn’t seem to give him the time of day anywhere except the library where no one can see them and in class, where no one knows them.

 

Well, they might know Lu Han.  Everyone kind of knows Lu Han.  He’s like a famous person.

 

Yifan is just… Yifan.

 

He still feels a little wiggly inside his stomach as Lu Han grins too freely and jabs a finger at the drawing Yifan had been doing.  “Nothing,” Yifan says, flipping to a new page and opening his textbook.  There is still another ten minutes to class.  “It doesn’t matter.”  Why are you talking to me?

 

“Aw,” Lu Han looks overly disappointed.  Yifan turns away from his look quickly and doesn’t look at him.  Nope.  “I wanted to see.”

 

“Why?” Yifan asks, frowning as unrealistic annoyance twists.  “Because it’s funny?”

 

Lu Han’s eyes widen marginally.  “I just was curious,” he says, sitting down and reaching to haul out his book.  His sneakers are coated in mud and dirt from the fall rains and the recent havoc it’s been wrecking on the campus grounds.  “I wanted to see what you were doing.  I wasn’t aware that was against the rules.”  He looks, oddly, apologetic as he watches Yifan.

 

Yifan feels guilty, not at all enjoying that look on Lu Han’s face.  If Lu Han doesn’t want to be his friend and treat him like one all the time, that’s fine.  They’re not friends, after all.  They’re just in the same class.  That’s just how it is.  Yifan is being silly.  Lu Han being friends with him would be nice, but sometimes he has to be realistic.  “It’s just a drawing,” he sighs, turning back to the page and looking down.  “It’s not special.”

 

“Is that a snake?” Lu Han asks, leaning across the seat aisle and into Yifan’s desk space and the whole personal space issue is making that uncomfortable feeling worse.  Lu Han looks up at him.  Seriously, zero regard for personal space.  “Why does it have legs?”

 

Yifan blinks and swallows and blinks again.  “Why not?” he asks after a moment of thought.  “Who is to say I can’t make snakes have legs?  I am the artist after all.”  Lu Han blinks at him and his eye widen.  “I’m expressing myself.”  Lu Han laughs, right there, right in his face and it’s really loud and his jaw unhinges and somehow the knowledge that he has made Lu Han laugh this hard and unreserved makes Yifan feel that giddy feeling even if he’s not sure if Lu Han is laughing at him or not.  “Don’t laugh at me,” he says and it’s not something he expect Lu Han to do anything with.

 

“I’m not,” Lu Han says, quieting slightly even as he coughs lightly and draws back.  “I like it.  It’s different.  Kind of like you.”  Lu Han just smiles

 

Yifan stares, watching as Lu Han pulls away and sits down at his desk like he hasn’t just say the most confusing sentence Yifan has ever heard from him.  “Really?”

 

Lu Han smiles, settling down in his chair.  “Yeah,” he says easily as Yifan’s heart stomach slides backwards up his trachea.  “It’s nice.  Plus, you always do it.”  He grins again and this is not helping Yifan in the whole ‘we can’t be friends because Lu Han doesn’t want to be’ logic he’d just worked through for the past few days.  “But just in case, you do know snakes don’t actually have legs, right?”

 

“I know they don’t,” Yifan says, trying to keep down his happiness at Lu Han liking his drawings (or at least not completely repulsed by them).  “I just, I dunno, wanted this one to have legs.”

 

“Snakes with legs,” Lu Han says, squinting at the ceiling.  “That would be horrifying.”

 

The brief visualization of this is all Yifan needs before he’s shivering.  “Oh God.”

 

Lu Han laughs again, eyes creasing up and maybe Yifan can be his not almost friend classmate thing and that’s not weird.  “Hey,” Lu Han says in the middle of the lecture, tapping Yifan’s notebook gently to get his attention.  “Are we still on for Sunday?”

 

Lu Han ignores Yifan in the cafes when with his cooler soccer buddies but remembers their initial study plans.

 

Yifan is confused, though perhaps that’s not a bad thing?

 

 

-

 

 

Soccer practices are picking up.  Lu Han cancels Sunday last minute because of an extra scheduled practice, laughing through the rushed phone call when Yifan asks if he’ll be okay.  “Trust me, if I try to argue with Junjin or Kyungsoo on this, I’ll be in deeper shit than if I just go to practice.”  Yifan spends Sunday being dragged around by Jia who insists that he’s the only person she trusts at the shopping districts because he can ‘dress himself like a normal person.’

 

Jongin looks slightly confused and stressed at dinner later and comes and sits doing work quietly on the floor of his room later.  He tells Yifan he just needed a break from the main dorms and his roommates.  He sighs a lot.  Well, more than usual, which has Yifan looking over to him more than a few times over his creative writing assignment.

 

Lu Han flops into the desk with a moan as soon as he arrives to art history on Tuesday and Yifan furrows concerned eyebrows.  “Tired,” Lu Han groans before Yifan can ask or confirm the obvious.  “Too tired.”

 

“I can see that,” Yifan says, shifting a bit.  His desk is a little cramped today.  “Think you can make it through the class?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Lu Han says with a huff, slumping back into his seat ‘properly’ with limbs stretching out and pulling his book from his bag.  “I’m doomed to perish from over exertion and malnutrition.”

 

“You know,” Yifan says with a small smile.  “For someone who is studying to one day save lives you’re not doing too well regarding yourself.”  Lu Han frowns at him, entire face pulling down as he looks to the side, putting on a very displeased and dejected face.  “Here,” Yifan says, grabbing the to go container of food he had swiped from the mess earlier and holding it out to Lu Han.  He smiles.  “I thought you might be hungry.”

 

Lu Han stares at the food.  He stares at Yifan, then looks back the food then back at Yifan and seems to be on a repeating cycle.  “You…” Lu Han seems a little surprised as he continues to look at Yifan and doesn’t take the food.

 

Embarrassed.  That’s about what Yifan feels right around now, because Lu Han is acting like this is the only birthday present he’s ever been given and he’s not sure if he should accept it or hit it.  “You have classes all before this period,” he explains, mostly because when feeling awkward explaining just seems like something everyone does to try to validate why they did the thing that makes them feel awkward in the first place.  “And you said on Sunday you haven’t had as much time and so I thought you might be hungry and…”

 

Trailing off, Yifan can’t deny that he can feel heat on his face, mostly his cheeks, which usually means blushing.  Yifan doesn't entirely like to think that he’s blushing, though since it is Lu Han he might make a concession.  Especially since Lu Han’s face is slowly blooming into one of those gorgeous smiles that Yifan has only really seen after a soccer win on the field.  “Thanks,” Lu Han says, reaching forward finally and taking the offered container of food.  It’s mostly just a mess of cafeteria food but Lu Han smiles at it like it’s delicate cookies.

 

Yifan clears his throat as Lu Han shoves a few fries into his mouth and hums gently.  “Plus, you don't really seem to eat on a normal person schedule anyway.”

 

Lu Han looks amused as he looks over.  “We’re in college,” he says.  “No one has an anything normal person schedule.”  His eyes are soft as he smiles and offers Yifan a few fries before laughing when Yifan pulls out his own small to go container with a sheepish smile.  “Thanks,” he says, leaning over after the professor has been talking about art for a good ten minutes.  “Really, I appreciate it.  You’re the best.”

 

Yifan is pretty sure he’s smiling the rest of the class and he can't stop even if he wanted to.  They part at the end of the class, Lu Han with a small wave after lingering for a minute so they walked out together.  Yifan smiles.  Lu Han tells him he’ll see him on Sunday.  YIfan smiles.  Jongin stares at him with wide eyes when he sits down in the café with him a half hour later and says “How long have you been smiling like that?  You look terrifying.”

 

“Shut up, you’re just jealous of how pretty I look when I smile,” Yifan says and doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile for once.

 

“No,” Jongin says, letting out a small laugh as he eyes Yifan warily.  “Not really.”  He gives Yifan a long lingering look.  “How are the study dates going?”

 

The smile slips slightly.  “They’re not study dates,” he corrects, dropping his bag into the seat beside him with a loud thud.  “We’re just studying together.  Like normal people do.  Like you and I do.”

 

“You study with Lu Han like you study with me?” Jongin asks, looking entirely skeptical.

 

“Well, there’s more talking,” Yifan amends, digging out his second hand copy of The Body Artist and opening it.  “And we mostly do art history.  Sometimes he naps.”

 

“So nothing at all like us studying together,” Jongin says with a small smile.  Yifan isn’t giddy.  Well, he is, but describing his current emotional state as ‘giddy’ just sounds weird.  “Sounds fun.”

 

Jongin smiles at him and laughs a little.  Jongin doesn’t text all their friends like Baekhyun might.  Jongin just shakes his head and sits down and pulls out his Finance book.  Jongin doesn’t press him for information and barely comments on the fact that Yifan can’t stop smiling and Baekhyun stops by to call him a shark.

 

“Why is he so happy?” Baekhyun asks, knocking his hip repeatedly against the table despite how he knows it annoys Jongin when he’s taking notes.

 

Jongin glances up at Yifan who is drinking his green tea latte with astute concentration.  “He heard about your problems with your lab partner in Anthro.”  Baekhyun frowns and looks agitated.

 

“I don't get why he gets so worked up about it,” Baekhyun says, knocking harder against the table.  “I just like teasing him.”

 

“And calling him cute,” Jongin points out.  “You know how much that irritates him.”

 

“He is cute though!  It's weird but funny!  Plus, you'd tease him too.  His reactions are amazing.” Baekhyun exclaims and Yifan, shaking his head at his friends antics as he plugs his headphones into his ears and drowns them out, going back to his assignment and turning over the images of a smiling and surprise and happy Lu Han in between paragraphs.

 

 

-

 

 

Where are you?  Are you already in the library?

 

On my way. Sorry I’m late.

 

Don’t go.  I have an idea.

 

Yifan stares at his phone.  This is kind of weird.  So far the library has been a neutral zone (aside from the cafeteria) where Lu Han appears to find it okay for them to interact and be seen together socially, at least from Yifan’s observations.  These places are safe, so what Lu Han can be thinking, Yifan isn’t sure.

 

Okay?

 

Meet me at the student center or something.

 

Fortunately, the student center isn’t that far.  Yifan is barely waiting two minutes before Lu Han is striding up and smiling as he waves once before dropping his hand to shove into his jean pockets.  “I thought we’d get off campus, take a break from the mad academia of the library stress pocket.”

 

Interesting way of describing the most academic and organized place on campus.

 

“This is…” Yifan tries to think of an appropriate word.  “Different.”

 

“It’s a change of scenery,” Lu Han says with a hum, looking around as he drops his backpack into the seat near the back of the small shop.  It’s full of books, which basically makes is almost the same as the library in Yifan’s opinion.  “Plus it’s fun.”  He grins and Yifan has that small internal panic attack again as he nearly smiles back way too big.

 

“Where is it you need help today?” Yifan asks, opening up his art history book and looking over to Lu Han who is shuffling through his backpack.

 

“Huh?”  Lu Han looks startled, eyes wide as he looks up.  He must have showered late this morning.  His hair is flat and slightly fluffy about his head, bangs just ghosting over his forehead and it’s strangely cute on him.  Yifan’s mouth is dry.  Oh dear.  “Oh, I finished art history.”

 

What?

 

“So.”  Yifan is confused.  “Wait.”  Yeah, mostly confused.  “Why are we here?”

 

Lu Han looks at him like he’s mental.  “To study?” Lu Han says with a dramatically raised eyebrow.  “Unless you want to play cards or something.”  Yifan isn’t quite sure what to do with himself.  “I dunno, I just got used to studying with you on Sundays.  It’s a nice change.”  Lu Han smiles.  It does things to Yifan’s brain.

 

Flustered?  Yeah, flustered makes sense.  Flustered is a feeling which Yifan is feeling right now as Lu Han shrugs back into his chair like sitting there with an organic chemistry book in his lap gently nudging his knee against Yifan’s is perfectly cool.  Like this isn’t different and Lu Han is choosing to hang out with him in a social situation.  “You don’t have to,” he mumbles and Lu Han jerks to look at him, pen pausing as it taps against the book.  “I know you probably have other friends who you want to hang out with and…”  Now Yifan feels sad.

 

A laugh that is too loud for the library but okay for a bookstore with a café area has Yifan looking over to Lu Han quickly.  “Do you not want to hang out with me?” he asks and Yifan’s spine snaps in panic as he lurches upright in his seat.  He’s lately been taken to slouching more in his seat than he used to.

 

“No!” Yifan says quickly before reining himself in.

 

“So you don’t want to hang out with me?” Lu Han asks and his eyebrows creep towards his fluffy blond hair.  His roots have begun to grow in.  It looks good on him.  Though, Lu Han with vibrant green hair and a trash bag would probably look good in Yifan’s humble opinion.

 

“No!” Yifan says again hastily and feels like these panic attacks are highly unfair and far too loud.  But then he sees Lu Han’s grinning face and presses his mouth shut and sinks down into his hair quickly.  “I just,” he pauses as Lu Han looks amused.  “I don’t want to bother you.”  Lame.

 

“I see you barely one a week and in art history class,” Lu Han says with a laugh.  “You don’t bother me, Yifan.  I kind of like spending time with you.”

 

Heat spreads over Yifan’s cheeks and he’s one hundred percent sure that he’s blushing right now.  Lu Han hasn’t really called him by his name since he kept getting it wrong and Yifan had to correct him.  Lu Han just smiles at him before asking if he wants anything from the café and striding off.

 

It isn’t until they’ve been sitting and doing work for a good half hour, Lu Han’s knee unconsciously knocking against Yifan’s and forming a rhythm that keeps a smile on Yifan’s lips.  Looking over at Lu Han and seeing the other, frowning slightly at the mess of papers and notes in his lap, Yifan feels oddly calm, like maybe this is okay.  “I like spending time with you too,” he finally says, finally worked out the response and Lu Han turns to him in a second of surprise before a brilliant smile is spreading over his face.

 

Yifan’s heart beats a bit faster as Lu Han turns back to his work and Yifan returns to his.  Maybe not quite friends.  But Lu Han likes hanging out with him.

 

 

-

 

 

“Make it stop,” Baekhyun moans, falling into the chair beside Jongin and burrowing his face into Jongdae’s shoulder.  “Please, make it stop.  I can’t take it anymore.”

 

“Don't touch me,” Jongdae says calmly placing his palm to Baekhyun’s forehead and shoving him off easily.  “I don’t know where you’ve been.”

 

“Asshole,” Baekhyun grumbles before relenting and instead making extra friendly with the table, flopping over it and looking morosely at Yifan.  “You should never look happy.  It’s weird.  Your face isn’t build for happy expressions.  It doesn't take them well.”

 

“You have no right to call other people an asshole,” Jongdae tells him easily, smacking him happily on the back and earning a grunt.  “You, who derives pleasure from the pitiful sounds of souls crushing.”

 

“Or sanity shattering,” Jongin adds helpfully as he plays with his bangs slowly, eyes on his assignment and tongue poking between his lips.  “Speaking of which, can you please lay off the assistant coach?  He looks like he’s going to murder us every time we show up for practice.”

 

“But it’s so much fun,” Baekhyun protests, sitting back finally and punching Jongdae in the shoulder.  “That’s cruel to ask of me.”

 

“One day you are going to get slapped,” Jongdae says as he watches Baekhyun.  “And I will be so happy.”

 

“You can slap me if you want,” Baekhyun throws back at him, grinning ferally and leaning far too close.  Jongdae gives him a dead look before leaning away and shoving Baekhyun in the face with his calculator.

 

“No please,” Jongdae says and Baekhyun laughs loudly.

 

“We're going to get kicked out,” Yifan tells them, feeling irritated but only marginally.  He’s still mostly coasting on the fumes from Sunday.  It’s now Wednesday afternoon.  He and Lu Han had slowly munched through a to-go thing of food in class yesterday.  Yifan says it’s to make sure Lu Han doesn’t collapse from malnutrition as Lu Han laughs quietly around tater tots.  He can’t stop smiling through art history classes as his mind quietly adds that they’re sharing meals together and that’s what friends and more than friends do before he tries not to get ahead of himself.

 

“Is he being serious?” Baekhyun asks around the table.  “I can’t tell when his face looks stupidly happy.  It’s confusing.”

 

“Asshole,” Jongdae repeats and hits Baekhyun in the forehead.  “So looking forward to you getting decked.”

 

“I’m too cute to get decked,” Baekhyun says with a cocky grin.  “Why are you so happy anyway?” he asks, turning back to Yifan.  “Is it because your study dates now include hand jobs?”

 

“WHAT?!”  The librarian near the counter in the center of the room gives the table a very disapproving look, her thin eyebrows menacing.  Yifan hunkers down and glowers at Baekhyun even as his heart hammers.  “They’re not study dates.”

 

“So it’s just causal hand jobs?” Baekhyun clarifies as Jongin even comes out of his educational coma to gape at him.  Baekhyun ignores him as Jongdae shakes his head and mutters ‘Fuck almighty.’

 

“We’re just-“  Yifan is having breathing problems.  Self-consciousness sucks.

 

“Blow jobs?”  Baekhyun grins and Yifan can never understand why Joonmyun sometimes refers to him as ‘cute’ and ‘angel?’ with the included vocal inflection.

 

“We’re just friends,” Yifan hastens, keeping his voice quiet as Baekhyun leers and looks thoroughly pleased with himself.  “Plus, Lu Han is straight or something and-“

 

Jongin is looking at him now.  With his eyes wide.  Jongin typically keeps his eyes at a half open sleepy look that seems to general suit his near constant inclination to nap.  When he opens his eyes like he is doing now to their fullest extent it’s shocking to say the least.  Jia had once likened it to looking into the end of the universe and a child’s soul at the same time.

 

“What?” Yifan is nervous when Jongin looks like that.  Jongin doesn’t look at people like that without a good reason.

 

“You-“ Jongin’s lower lip disappears between his teeth.  “Never mind,” he says quickly and ducks his head.

 

“See?  Look,” Jongdae says turning to Baekhyun.  “You’ve made Jongin uncomfortable.  Shame on you.”

 

“I make everyone uncomfortable,” Baekhyun says and lowers his voice significantly on the last word.

 

“You make everyone nauseous,” Yifan says absently, wishing that it was just him and Jongin right now.  Jongin doesn’t bother him about his being happy.  Jongin innately mostly understands why he’s happy and is quiet about it and doesn’t pester him.  Jongdae is okay though sometimes annoying.  Baekhyun is horrible.  “They’re not study dates,” Yifan says quietly to himself even as his stomach makes a silly happy bubbly feeling again as he turns back to hide in his books.

 

Baekhyun, fortunately, doesn’t hear him.  He’s busy on his phone texting someone with a concentrated scowl and his tongue between his teeth.  Jongdae glances up and him though and Yifan quickly looks away.

 

They’re not study dates, but Yifan can pretend.

 

 

-

 

 

Late October sucks.  Mostly in that it’s nasty cold and wet and weirdly in the middle of being maybe fall but mostly almost winter and fall leaves are pretty but get soggy and nasty and have to be removed through significant work on the part of the grounds keepers.  It’s a horrible, inconvenient time of the year.  It’s the last week of October, and Lu Han looks exhausted and excited at the same time on Thursday.

 

“Halloween,” Lu Han says in explanation without further elaboration as he slides into the seat beside Yifan and grins.  “You excited?”

 

The last time Yifan legitimately celebrated Halloween was when he was twelve, too big for his Spiderman costume, and walking around being mistaken as a high school student because he went through a growth spurt at the age of ten that seemed determined to make him a tree.  The first year of university had left him traumatized after the first Halloween ‘celebration’ in which he was nearly hit in the face with a bottle and someone fell off a building.  Last year Yifan enjoyed a scary movie marathon with himself and popcorn and his roommate who seemed to also not have any inclination towards the holiday.

 

It would be nice if Yixing was around this year, considering Jongin will be off being social and the rest of his friends like to do things on this mortifying holiday.  Sadly, Yixing is abroad for the year.

 

So when Yifan turns back to Lu Han and honestly answers “Kind of?” with very lacking enthusiasm, Lu Han looks affronted.

 

“How can you not be excited for Halloween?” Lu Han asks, sitting down and gladly accepting the small container of food Yifan offers him with a muttered thanks.  “It’s one of the few fun holidays we have in university.”

 

“Everyone just gets drunk and does weird stupid stuff,” Yifan says, twirling a pen in his hand to keep his mind off of that first year of Halloween and the stuff.

 

Lu Han laughs, looking at him as one side of his mouth creases to the side.  “Exactly,” he laughs, shaking his head.  “That’s why it’s fun!”  He pops a spicy fry into his mouth.  “What are you doing?”

 

Nothing?  Watching movies alone?  Not going out and risking bodily harm?  “Not much,” he says with a shrug, feeling nervous.  Yifan knows it’s lame.  Everyone does something on Halloween.  To not is to basically label oneself as socially inept.

 

… Like Yifan.

 

He wets dry lips as he glances over at Lu Han.  Lu Han is chewing on a spicy fry and seemingly evaluating him closely, eyes narrowed.  Yifan wonders if Lu Han will in future look at his medical patients like this.  It’s actually very intimidating.  “What?”

 

“You should come out with us,” Lu Han says.  It’s not a proposal, more of a statement.  Like Lu Han has decided this will be a reality and Yifan will be cooperative and do it.  Yifan is staring at Lu Han feeling a mix between awe and horror.  “It’d be fun.”

 

Or terrifying Yifan’s mind supplies.  Jongin tried getting him to go out last year.  So did Baekhyun and Jongdae.  He imagines they’d like to try to drag him out this year.  He’d refuse if they did.  But if Lu Han is asking… “Fun,” he repeats, looking at Lu Han who just grins.

 

“Yeah!” Lu Han laughs and reaches over to slide a hand over Yifan’s shoulder as his mind yelps physical contact! and he lets out a nervous cough laugh.  “Loads.  We’ll have a great time.”

 

The way he smiles and squeezes Yifan’s shoulder makes him think for a moment that they’re friends.  That Lu Han legitimately wants to spend time with him.

 

“You’re a dumb person,” Jia tells him as she shoves him into the bathroom of her suite and throws a towel around his shoulders.  “Literally the dumbest smart dumb person I have ever met.”

 

“Is that supposed to make sense?” Yifan asks, looking at her in trepidation as she runs her fingers through his hair.

 

“It makes sense to a person who isn’t dumb,” Jia says and pats his face.  “You two have legitimately been hanging out for the past few months.  If he didn’t want to hang out with you, he wouldn’t.  I think it’s safe to say he enjoys your company.”

 

“But he’s-“

 

“The coolest person alive and a soccer star and probably pisses in rainbow colors or something, yeah, whatever,” Jia cuts him of with a roll of her eyes, messing with something by the sink.  “Take off those stupid rose colored glasses of yours for once.  Accept the fact that Lu Han may be hot shit but he obviously thinks you’re worth being friends with.”

 

“We’re not-“

 

“You two sit in art history and share snacks and have study dates on the weekends,” Jia cuts him off again as she messes with bottles and snaps on a pair of rubber gloves.  Yifan eyes them warily.

 

“They’re not study dates,” Yifan says, voice weaker as his nerves buzz slightly and he looks at his reflection in the mirror.  He’s never done this before.

 

The look Jia sends him in the mirror is reminiscent of what Jongdae refers to as his ‘really’ face.  “Whatever you say, big guy,” she says, laughing slightly as she picks up a bottle and squirts a mess of weird smelling stuff into her hand.  “Ready?”

 

“No,” Yifan answers honestly.

 

“Good,” Jia says with a smile before smearing the goop into his hair as he takes a deep breath.  He trusts Jia, which is why he asked her for help on this particular endeavor.  Yifan just isn’t entirely sure why he thought this was a necessary step.

 

Yifan will blame Jongdae later.  Jongdae will tell him he has no one to blame but himself.  Jongdae is probably right but Yifan, for now, will ignore that as he watches his friend slowly work over his scalp with a concentrated frown.

 

 

-

 

 

“Holy shit.”

 

This reaction seems entirely appropriate in Yifan’s opinion as he squeezes along the bleachers and jostles into Baekhyun.  Baekhyun stares at him like he’s never seen him before in his life.  “Hi,” Yifan says and tries to hide himself.  Since Yifan has been larger than anyone else he knows since Sophomore year of high school, this is not an easy task.

 

“What the fuck happened?” Baekhyun asks, his eyes not on Yifan’s face but instead on the hair atop his head.

 

Yifan smiles weakly, shrugging a bit and putting his hands up in a mostly awkward ‘whoops’ gesture and saying “Happy Halloween.”

 

“You can’t be serious,” Jongdae says, leaning around Baekhyun and apparently only just not realizing Yifan is there.  “You’re blond.”

 

“Surprise!” Yifan says perhaps a bit too loudly as the girl in front of them turns around and gives him a very judging look.  He grins at her and she quickly turns around.  “Can we please not act like I have a dead cat on my head or something?  It’s just hair.”

 

“Of course not,” Baekhyun says laughing.  “That’s taking away all of our fun.”

 

“Fun,” Yifan repeats.

 

“I’m still in shock,” Jongdae says, staring at Yifan and seeming stuck between looking confused and amused.  “When did this happen?”

 

“Last night,” Jia chirps, plopping down into the seat beside Yifan and smiling brightly at everyone.  “Yifan looks good blond.  Suits you and your waspish inner human.”

 

“I’m Chinese,” Yifan points out.

 

“Blond and Chinese,” Baekhyun adds, reaching up to poke at Yifan’s carefully styled hair.  Yifan shies away from his invasive fingers.  “You’re a lovely contradiction.”

 

“Tall, blond, and Chinese,” Jongdae adds helpfully.

 

“Yifan is clearly just an anomaly,” Jia says happily as she pats Yifan’s cheek.  “Excited?”

 

“For what?” Yifan asks, feeling very picked on by his ‘friends’.

 

“The game,” Jia exclaims, throwing her arms wide happily to the general assembled student masses and field.  “And whatever will happen tonight.”  She grins brilliantly.  Yifan feels like he’s eaten his snake with legs.

 

Baekhyun and Jongdae have turned to him, curious looks on both their faces.  “What about tonight?” Jongdae asks, looking intrigued.

 

“Nothing,” Yifan lies through his teeth.

 

“Bull shit, you’re actually going out?” Baekhyun appears aghast.  “You never go out.  The last time you went out was-“

 

“Last spring,” Jongdae supplies kindly.

 

“-Because Jongin guilt tripped you when he was sad,” Baekhyun finishes in awe.  “And because Yixing was leaving.  You cried into potato chips.”

 

Jia bursts out laughing just as the stands begin to cheer and yell, fortunately giving Yifan the glorious opportunity to completely ignore the embarrassing reminder of last spring as he too cheers and yells his approval, hands clapping enthusiastically for the soccer team as it runs out onto the field.  He smiles as he sees Lu Han, smiling and running about, hair flying from his face and clearly happy as he runs through the drills.

 

“So proud of his senpai,” Baekhyun coos sickeningly.  “Look at that adoring smile on his face.  So cute.”

 

“Isn't that your torture toy?” Jongdae asks, leaning into Baekhyun and pointing onto the pitch at the coach and team assistant that walk out.  “Shit, he’s like a bean.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Baekhyun shoots back.

 

“Not all of us are the anomaly of Yifan tall,” Jongdae says easily and Baekhyun nods a bit at this.  Yifan ignores them.  It’s not that hard when his attention is focused on the field, smiling as he watches Lu Han bark at his team mates to run laps and practice drills to warm up in the chilly October air to prep for the swiftly approaching game.

 

“Think we’ll win?” Jia asks, leaning in a bit to Yifan’s side as she claps lazily.

 

“Of course we’ll win,” Yifan says, not taking his eyes off short blond hair that hide the black roots underneath that he knows are there.

 

“God, save me,” Baekhyun drawls as Jongdae shoves him in the side.

 

“God abandoned you long ago,” Jongdae tells him.  “He was too busy making Yifan tall.”

 

“God must not like you either then,” Baekhyun tells him brightly as he flicks Jongdae in the neck and gets an exaggerated flinch in reward.  “We can both burn in hell.”

 

“Have fun,” Jia says waving with a smile at them from around Yifan, who is pointedly ignoring his two friends in favor of cheering.  Three years of cheering at soccer games and he’s still following the queues of Jia and the rest of the crowd.  If it were up to Yifan, everything would earn a standing ovation.  Soccer looks like a lot of work.  The important part, he knows, is to cheer when the team makes a goal.  To yell and cheer and smile brightly as Lu Han either punches the air in victory or runs to his teammate, face beaming in a smile, and gives them a firm hug.

 

The important part is supporting the team.  Cheering for Lu Han and maybe at the end of this game with Yifan goes to celebrate the victory near the field with everyone else, Lu Han will look over and wave at him smiling like the sun and not at anyone else.

 

Yifan’s heart pounds in his chest, his smile too wide and he doesn’t care this time.  He’s too happy to care.'




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