NCT Oneshots {ot23} | open

Love Problem: HaeYang + Ten

▹prompt: love problem
▹word count: 4892
▹genre: fluff, humour, guardian angels
▹warnings: n/a

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹❀◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ

Yangyang stumbles down the dingy corridor, textbooks stacked high up to his nose and his arms aching from the weight of carrying them all back from the library far too late at night. Something in his shoulder clicks when he crouches to place them down outside his front door. It sends a sharp pain through his arm. He scrunches his eyes shut, waits for it to pass, then a heavy sigh leaves his lips. His eyes ache from all the studying - finals leave no remorse - and he squints at the lock to slot his key in.

It's a small apartment only a few roads from the university, giving Yangyang the opportunity to live in his own space as an independent, responsible adult during the final year of his course. Sort of. Well, he's an adult, but the independent and responsible parts don't quite apply to him yet. Barely a week after moving in, he slipped in the shower and somehow brought the bottles of shampoo and gel down with him, then limped for the next week because of the awful bruise on his hip. He's had food poisoning twice, and both times Renjun and Haechan stayed at his place to look after him and 'ensure he gets some actual edible food inside of him for once'. Renjun's words, not his.

He also misses Haechan's shining presence around the house. His joyous laugh when he wins a video game at two in the morning, his glorious wet hair after a shower, his warm hugs when he's sleepy but still refuses to go to bed because there's just one more episode of his favourite show left to binge. Okay, maybe he's a little in love. Just a little.

To sum things up, it's tough living on his own. He didn't realise how much he relied on Haechan's ramen and Renjun's words of wisdom until he was no longer with them twenty-four seven. He still sees them virtually every day, of course he does, but it's just not the same now he actually has to look after himself.

But he's coping. Just about. His heart aches to be close with Haechan again, but he's coping.

It's a struggle to heave the books back up into his arms. Just as he's considering hitting the gym again, the top two textbooks slide off the pile and he groans and curses the world. He makes no effort to save them; it'd only set off an avalanche and create a bigger mess.

He slumps his shoulders and waits for the books to hit the floor, maybe even land on his toes, but they don't. There's no thud.

Frowning, Yangyang opens his eyes. Then he yelps.

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You just looked like you were struggling so I came out to help." The man in front of Yangyang speaks.

Yangyang eyes him up and down, his mouth still hanging open. His hair falls in long, black tufts, with half of it pulled into a messy ponytail to reveal an array of earrings up his ears. He's wearing a baggy t-shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans and a rather expensive belt, and Yangyang's eyes linger on the impressive tattoo on his forearm. He must be a few years older than himself.

"Stop staring." The man smiles, a smirk that seems to light up the entire corridor. "And why don't you head inside?" He motions to the open door, and Yangyang is too entranced to not obey.

The nameless man follows him inside. Yangyang doesn't think he's ever seen him before, yet there's a tingling inside of him that tells him something's familiar. He shrugs it off and finally dumps the textbooks on the table, breathing out with relief when his arms can relax. The elder adds the two he caught to the pile.

"Do you live alone?" He scrunches his nose up as he looks around. Yangyang swallows, then narrows his eyes.

He's not sure he likes this stranger. Judging by his fashion style, Yangyang guesses he lives in a much more up-end accommodation and isn't used to his own bare-minimum flat. Perhaps he's in the area to visit a friend.