Over The Years

药剂

| Yifan/Yixing | G | 1.3k | Angst, Major Character Death

Summary:

Why him? Why his heart and soul? Why the medicine to his heartache?

Written for K-pop Olymfics 2017

A/N:

This fic was written for K-Pop Olymfics 2017. Olymfics is a challenge in which participants write fics based on prompt sets and compete against other teams of writers, organized by genre.

This is Team AU's fic for the following prompt set:
Baek Jiyoung – "There's No Cure"
| |

Thank you to Kuro for basically mothering me through this entire period. We've had many many interesting conversations because of my craziness and tendency to random start screaming for help no matter what time the day it is and for my team members who have been incredibly supportive this entire time. I basically poured this entire fic out in one sitting after writing what, four unsuccessful drafts? Hope you guys enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

----

The pain was crippling, confining him to his bed, the space where he once shared many passionate nights, tender kisses, and whispered confessions with the man he loved more than anything in the world.

The moonlight lit upon the aqua sheets, once his favourite colour. The ceiling rippled with the reflected colour, making it seem as if he was under the ocean. The scent of mint and waterlily filled the room, once his favourite body wash.

His clothes were strewn all over the room, with no one to nag at him to pick them up. It was easier to lie to himself this way, pretending that he would be home soon to lecture him about the importance of having everything neatly put together.

His favourite candles still burned in the living room, his favourite jacket still hung in the laundry room. His guitar was half out of its case, his pencil beside his overflowing notebook on his desk.

Yifan lifted the cigarette to his lips, laughing bitterly to himself as he sucked in a breath of tobacco scented smoke. He would never have allowed him to smoke at all, much less in the house, in their bedroom. The whole reason he had burned all of his cigarette packs was because of him.

He turned his head slowly, meeting eyes with the photo frame that stood beside the bed. The two men in the picture were so entangled in each other's arms that you could not tell where one ended and the other began.

Their lips were locked together and Yifan could almost taste the salt water on his tongue, could almost feel the fabric of his wet T-shirt sticking to his skin as they kissed. The picture was so raw, captured so much of how they felt towards each other that the photographer had given them the only copy, saying that no one else should own such a private and passionate moment of theirs.

Yifan turned his head away, blowing out a puff of smoke to gaze at the ceiling. He had insisted on pasting glow in the dark sticky stars on it, following the constellations in the night sky exactly.

Yifan could picture the scene so clearly in his mind that it was almost as if it had happened only yesterday.

The room was still bare of any furniture as they had only just finished painting the walls. It had been a compromise, combining his love of anything blue with Yifan's desire of having simple black.

The walls had been painted in a deep navy blue and the ceiling an inky black. Sunlight streamed in from the tall bay windows that they had opened to let the room air out.

He had armed himself with a ladder and a heavily detailed map of the celestial heavens, painstakingly drawing out every line and dot before placing on the children's pack of glow in the dark star stickers.