Luhan thinks Yixing is stupid. He thinks that he’s completely and utterly stupid and Luhan hates him for it.

But he can’t actually hate him. Not really.

Yixing inhales the breath that Luhan exhales.

When the older male notices the small action, he can’t help but stare because it’s just been so long since they’ve shared something, and it actually surprises him. He faintly wonders how something that used to occur so naturally became something so rare.

The thought vanishes as soon as he is reminded that the turning point was so abrupt and long ago that there is no possible hope for him to recall the true mechanics behind the shift in their relationship.

Yixing exhales a soft sigh and Luhan inhales the bitter taste of reality.

“Are you really going through with this?”

Despite the simplicity of those seven words, the weight that holds them down is enough to make the other shiver. For underneath the outer layer that encases them is something much more daunting: a plea from one friend to another.

Because despite everything that they’ve been through, Yixing has and will always see Luhan as his truest friend. But it’s because their relationship has existed for such a long time that he’s able to look beneath the calm aura with which his friend’s words are spoken. Underneath these seven little words is a desperate cry carefully laced within a minute whisper that is so hushed that only those who have known the speaker long enough are able to catch them.

And there is only one person who has always been able to read Luhan like an open book; only one person that has stuck with him through thick and thin, through countless centuries of endless wandering; only one person who has looked after the other as though he were an extension of himself.

There is only one person with whom Luhan has spent his entire lifetime—his entire existence with—and that person’s name is Yixing.

Luhan knows this; Yixing is desperate to forget it.

When there is no response from the younger man, Luhan feels himself fidget uncomfortably in the starched fabric of his tuxedo. “I want you to think this over, Xing. I really do.”

What he really wants to say is that he doesn’t want Yixing to leave him. Although it sounds incredibly selfish, Yixing is a piece of him that he does’t want to let go. He wants to tell his friend that what he is doing is absolutely stupid—that it’s impossible for something as petty as love to destroy a castle that took centuries and centuries to build, that his insistent assurance of his personal rationality is actually nothing butirrational because he is only thinking of himself. Yixing is only thinking of how this fiasco could affect him and it genuinely hurts Luhan because the latter is greatly concerned with how horribly he would be scarred in this twisted chain of events.

Yet even though Luhan is highly aware of Yixing’s own selfishness, he is unable to call the other out for it.

Perhaps it’s because he hates seeing his younger friend sad. Perhaps it’s because he’s scared that he cares far more for the brunet beside him than the brunet does for himself. And perhaps it’s simply because words are something that Luhan has never been good at using properly, so attempting to use them in his favor this time around would only make him look stupid.

Luhan isn’t sure. And he supposes that it’s not that important anyway.

When Yixing finally speaks, it’s with utmost care. (They really were true compliments to one another after all. While Luhan trips and stutters over the simplest of phrases, they leave Yixing’s lips with an elegant flair, gliding through open space with a smooth flourish. While Luhan is a bundle of nerves, Yixing has always managed to remain calm and collected. When they embrace, the hollows of Luhan’s collarbones are filled with Yixing’s being. When Luhan breathes in, Yixing breathes out. It’s how they had always been: flawless reflections of the other.) “You know that I’ve thought about this decision for ages, Lu. It’s my time.”

And though the words are meant to soothe Luhan’s nerves, they do nothing but send the man’s mind into an agitated frenzy.

He longs to speak the words hidden in his heart regardless of how ridiculous he’ll sound. He longs to reach out and clasp Yixing’s hands in his like they have done so many times before. He longs to pretend that this ordeal is something nonexistent—something that the two had conjured up in another one of their “what if?” scenarios that were entirely for fun and most definitely nothing serious.

But Luhan can’t do any of those things. He doesn’t have the courage to. So instead, he stands up to pull the younger man into a tight embrace with the hopes that his heart will be able to speak to the younger’s through the innocent contact of skin.

All he can do is pray that it works.

---

When Luhan first meets Yixing, it is a starry night in fourteenth century China as the latter claws at the fertile soil beneath him in a fit of late night desperation.

“What are you doing?”

It is this simple question that forces the young man to a gradual stop. Underneath the moonlight, wiry locks tangled above his head, he looks incredibly small. He is by no means below the average height, but with his thin, almost nonexistent frame, he seems nothing but piteous. For a moment, Luhan thinks that his question is to go unanswered until a hoarse, “I don’t have to tell you anything,” echoes throughout the night.

Luhan huffs because, clearly, this stranger has no idea who he's talking to. However, he had learned from Wufan’s previous actions that lashing out on others would do nothing but stir bloodshed. Besides, it isn’t as though he's put off by the individual’s cold front. Curiosity is curiosity and, in Luhan's case, curiosity is something that must always be quenched. “I suppose that you don’t. But you really do look like a mad man right now. I’m debating whether or not I should call the authorities.”

If he isn’t mistaken, he could’ve sworn that the younger male had muttered something about him being a “pretentious prick.”

He decides to pretend to have not heard it.

“You know where we both stand right now. So I don’t understand why you have to ask. Is it not obvious?”

“I want to hear you say it,” Luhan responds with a short shrug. “I can’t help you unless you help yourself.”

It is clear that there is a question on the tip of the youngster’s tongue—a spark of curiosity ignited within his being at the other’s words—but he somehow forces it away from his lips. He shifts his weight to allow himself to sit on the ground below him, gazing up thoughtfully at the stars.

Luhan is, to put it frankly, intrigued by this man. He has been watching him for quite some time, after all. But never before has he seen him like this. So when his conversational partner softly pats the ground beside him in a silent invitation, Luhan doesn’t hesitate to accept his offer.

For a few minutes, they sit in silence. And when the stranger’s voice breaks through the frigid air, it is with a heartbreaking crack in his voice, “The plague took my mother. She was all I had left. And now I’m alone.” Luhan turns for a moment to catch the tears that are quietly streaking down the youngster’s face as he childishly tries to blink them away, eyes still set on the stars. “I’ve never… This feeling within my chest…” He shakes his head abruptly. “My mind is in a frenzy. I can’t think straight. Everything hurts, but all the physicians tell me that I’m as healthy as a newborn baby. But the pain is there. I know it is. I’m crazy. Yes; that’s it. I must be a lunatic. That’s what loneliness does to people, right?”

Luhan isn’t sure how to react to the admission despite the fact that he had already known of the youngster’s dilemma. He eventually decides on a careful, “And what will digging up her grave do? A corpse is just a corpse. The dead feel nothing.”

“Then maybe I want to die.”

It is not the fact that it is this boy telling him this that stuns Luhan—no, no. Luhan doesn’t particularly care for the boy all that much. But the youngster’s logic is something else entirely. It is something beyond Luhan’s understanding, something that his mind can’t seem to comprehend. And this lack of comprehension frustrates him. “Death? Do you truly think that your death will fix anything?”

The response to his question comes quickly from the lips of the other, “If I can’t feel anything, then yes. If death means that I’ll be protected from this horrid feeling, then I’m up for it. Death can’t be all that horrible. Death will be my salvation.”

If Wufan were there, he probably would have laughed and made some snide comment on the youngster’s religion.

Luhan is thankful that he isn’t.

“I think you’re wrong. Death is not salvation. Death is turmoil. It is life—with its ups and downs, with its countless emotions, with its interlocking webs of friendship and love—that offers salvation and happiness.”

The young man seems to think about this for a moment, but ultimately shakes his head with a bitter chuckle. “Why wouldn’t death bring about salvation? What has your religion taught you?”

Luhan suddenly thinks that this situation might actually be easier to handle if Wufan had opted to tackle this youngster for himself.

But because Wufan is nowhere to be found, Luhan simply lets out a soft sigh. “How much does religion really mean in the long run? You either live or you die, regardless of which faith you belong to. Those who believe in Hell find themselves trapped in the deepest pit, surrounded by nothing but fire, screaming their wanton cries for salvation on deaf ears. After all, the Devil likes to keep his believers close. For those who believe in Heaven—well, I’ve never met God and I doubt that I ever will. But I find that only those who are blessed by some predestined fate are allowed to find themselves knocking on Heaven’s door when their time finally comes. All the others find them stuck in a horrid in-between—a satanic combination of the wonders of Heaven and the hardships of Hell.” He pauses to allow himself to gauge the other’s reaction: eyes focused on him in surprise, lips parted in slight wonder, head cocked in thought. And though Luhan isn’t entirely sure, he senses something strong and powerful building up within the youngster’s being. When he continues his words, they are softer than they had been beforehand, “The only way to avoid such a cruel fate is to remain alive. Life, this petty existence in a worthless shell, is something that you should cling to, not cast away. There is no logic in longing for death.”

With that said, the thoughtful silence worms its way into their conversation once more.

“But no one can live forever. Either way, it is a fate that we all must face,” the youngster eventually concludes.

This is where Luhan smirks, “That’s not necessarily true.”

And this is where the boy, Yixing, furrowed his brows in confusion. Seeing this, the grin widens on the older male’s child-like features as he jumps up out of his position to reach his hand out to the other. “I think that I can help you out—if you trust me, that is.” A small piece of him is yelling for him to shut the hell up and leave while he can. His conscious (which sounds humorously too much like Wufan) is roaring about how he is neglecting responsibilities by offering solace to this target of his instead of actually killing him, but Luhan doesn’t care. There’s something about the boy before him that draws him in, and Luhan has been bored for a long time.

It’s not like Wufan can do all that much to him anyway.

Yixing looks at the hand in front of him in silent contemplation before hesitantly slipping his own in the other’s firm grasp. “Trust is something that is earned. Not something that can be bestowed on another on a mere whim.”

Luhan finds himself laughing at that and he isn’t sure why.

At the cheerful sound on such a bitter night, Yixing allows himself a small smile, dimple protruding in his right cheek.

Though they aren’t entirely aware of it, the small exchange results in the forming of a bond that destroyed the original masterpiece that had been created by a higher power beyond their understanding. With a simple touch, the happiness that their endings would have eventually found disappeared to be replaced with nothing but horrid suffering. With this promise that neither of the two know exists, they become strung together in a sudden knot that breaks through the otherwise flawless string of time.

Though they don't know it, two shattered fragments of two empty shells are merged together. When they stand next to each another, hand-in-hand, they are no longer empty. Though they are mere pawns unknowingly being played in a larger, crueler game, there is an unspoken bond created on that starry night: a bond that merges the two together to create a destiny that is so much bigger than themselves.

---

“Where are we?”

“This area doesn’t have a name.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t tell me where we are.”

Luhan stops to look at the other boy curiously because he honestly doesn’t know why he’s being so incredibly persistent. “I suppose that we’ll just call it the In-Between for now. We can come up with a more interesting name for it later.”

“Okay, fine.” Yixing decides to stop walking and, because his hand is still enveloped within Luhan’s, the latter is forced to come to a halt as well. “But the in-between of what?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“Only because you’re so bad at answering them.”

Luhan chuckles.

“In-between Heaven and Hell, stupid.” Yixing’s face pales and he looks like he’s either going to faint or cry or possibly run screaming in the other direction which does nothing but puzzle the older male. “I mentioned that before, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t say that you were actually taking me there! I had thought you were just making a metaphor!”

“Metaphor,” Luhan repeats incredulously, “Why on Earth would I take the time to make a metaphor when I can just speak bluntly? That’s too much work. I think that you overthink things too much.”

---

When they reach a certain point, Luhan tells a still fretting Yixing to wait while he goes to speak to someone.

“You’re just going to leave me?”

Luhan supposes that he feels slightly bad for stringing the kid along without properly explaining the situation he was dragging him into, but he’s right to assume that there’s no way he’d agree to what he is about to if Luhan had explained anything.

Besides, he’s technically not lying. He’s simply avoiding the truth and there’s technically no moral code against that—at least, from what he can remember. He hasn’t really concerned himself with morals for a very long time.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t miss me too much.”

Yixing huffs before a troubled groan leaves his lips, “I really must be insane. This is all a horrible nightmare.”

Luhan can’t help but laugh at that because a nightmare probably wouldn’t be as scary as what he’s about to face. But when Yixing turns to him with confused eyes once more, the older male decides to do nothing but wave away his silent question.

There’s a voice inside of him saying that this is still a bad idea, but Luhan thinks that the voice is even more annoying than Yixing’s incessant questioning, so he ignores it.

---

“You’re serious right now,” Wufan deadpans, staring at the small face before him in remote curiosity.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

There are numerous ways in which Wufan could answer this question, but when he contemplates all his possibilities, he realizes that all of them lead to boring results.

And if Luhan could complain about boredom, then Wufan should be allowed to moan and groan and write books and books about how much he despises responsibility while throwing childish fits that would outnumber Luhan’s easily.

So he settles for a simple, “We have a contract, you and I. Are you really willing to break that eternal vow for the sake of a human?”

Luhan scoffs, “You make it sound like being a human is something that I should be repulsed by. I’m a normal human as well."

“As far as I’m concerned, those who willingly make deals with the Devil himself don’t usually fall under the category of ‘normal human.’” The words are enough to make the man before him flinch and Wufan finds a bit of entertainment in that. “Besides, I don’t see any value in this kid. He seems kind of petty. And his devotion towards his religion makes him kind of boring. Ask me about this again, and I think I’ll just have to break our contract myself.”

He figures that that would be the end of the conversation, so he’s surprised when he hears his subordinate quietly say, “Then I suppose you’ll have to do just that. Because here I am, about to ask again.”

The words are enough to pique Wufan’s interest because although he always knew that Luhan was a tad bit different from the other humans who had foolishly dealt with the magic behind death, the man had never been daft enough to directly challenge his personal authority. Yet here he was now, accepting his threat if it meant gaining his approval for another to succumb to the flames of Hell. And Wufan doesn’t understand the logic behind it.

“After all, a life isn’t worth living unless you learn to take risks,” Luhan carefully continues.

“Well, if we think about the… perks of your case, you’re technically not even alive. Having a soul is one thing, but having a soul that is destined for eternal damnation is another,” his superior drawls. “Speaking of which, does this new companion of yours even know what he’s signing up for?”

It is here that he finally captures an expression change on the otherwise calm individual’s features. Luhan fidgets for a moment before mumbling, “No. But he doesn’t have to. This is what’s best for him.”

Wufan is about to ask what makes Luhan so sure that he knows what is best for the younger male, but catches himself at the last minute.

Because in that moment, Wufan is sure that the pieces for an incredibly amusing game have just waltzed through his front door and practically begged him to play.

And play Wufan would.

“Fine. If you’re so sure, then bring him in.”

Luhan is too bewildered and ecstatic to think about any possible repercussions that this deal might have. For some reason, it seems that he’s forgotten that he is contracting with Lucifer himself.

---

He isn’t sure what Yixing and Wufan discuss while inside the chamber.

All he really knows is that despite the fact that the former was dragged into the room with a look of fear and helplessness spread across his features, he exits with an aura that is calm and collected and nothing like the boy that had been perpetually asking him questions just moments ago.

Luhan isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about this. But underneath the confusion of mixed up emotions, he is able to recognize a faint trace of guilt: guilt for assisting in the destruction of something that was still somewhat pure and damning a soul for the sake of his own selfish desires. The other hadn’t been aware of what he was getting himself into; he wasn’t aware that humoring the ideals of a complete stranger would result in his losing his very being. It was forced upon him because Luhan thought that doing so would make his life a little more interesting.

But as Wufan s the care of his latest subordinate into Luhan’s capable hands while thoroughly explaining the deals of Yixing’s contract, the newly damned soul seems to flutter for a moment—as though he is there but not there; alive but not really. And it is that expression of pained exposure cracking through an otherwise solid façade that sends all of Luhan’s previous thoughts spiraling into oblivion and his feelings of guilt skyrocketing into every element of his vision. Because dear God, he had dragged this poor kid into this mess and ruined whatever life he would have lived if Luhan hadn’t decided to interfere. Sure, it would’ve been his duty to end the man’s life a tad bit early, but indubitably there could have been countless joys that the youngster could have experienced before his untimely demise: joys that Luhan clawed out of destiny’s hands in order to keep himself entertained.

It was in that moment, in that second of heated disgust directed to only himself that Luhan became faintly aware of the invisible bond that had been created between the two of them. It was in that moment, as the older male gingerly wrapped his arms around the other, that he realized that this man’s eternity was in his care; that despite the fact that they are blessed with eternal life and cursed with eternal suffering, it is now to be his duty to ensure the other’s happiness, no matter what the cost.

It was in that moment, during that small rupture of the expected, that Luhan realized just how much he had gotten himself into.

It was also when he realized just how much he was willing to accept his new life: a life that would be spent righting a wrong that was hastily scribbled in a state of rambunctious excitement; a life that would revolve around atoning for this sin despite the fact that doing so would get him nowhere in the long run because he was already cursed; a life that would be focused on making sure that that expression of worthlessness that flashed on Yixing’s features in that brief moment would never happen again because seeing that sort of hurt on such an innocent man’s features and knowing that he was the cause of it was something that Luhan suddenly found he couldn’t live with.

After the moment passes, he’s quickly made aware of the meticulous outline of the newly formed deal that Wufan is rambling on and on about. He realizes that he’s missed a few of the details, and quickly scrambles to obtain the main points of the agreement: Yixing is not like Luhan. While Luhan can alter his form and fall prey to mortal things such as infections and wounds, Yixing is immune to that. While Luhan is forced to withstand the human feelings of fatigue and restlessness, Yixing is capable of running years and years without ever closing an eye. But while Luhan can live for as long of an eternity as he wishes, Yixing’s eternity will come to a close once he acknowledges the feelings of true love. And once this happens, he will cease to exist. All traces of his being will be erased for centuries on and end, and he is fated to suffer through the rest of his eternity in one of the deepest rings of Hell until his chosen makes the ascension into Heaven. And only then will his pain come to an end.

Luhan doesn’t understand why Yixing’s contract is so much more detailed than his own. He doesn’t understand why he agreed to such terms despite the fact that not too long ago, he had been murmuring about the importance of religion in his life. In fact, he doesn’t understand why Yixing even agreed to the deal in the end despite the ultimate realization that he was dealing with the Devil himself. He could have run away, right? He could have fought against the Deadliest Sin in his purest form in order to free himself from an eternal vow of damnation, right? This isn’t entirely Luhan’s fault, right?

But Luhan knows that it is and he knows that no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise, the results would be nothing more than unsatisfactory.

It is in the recurring aftermath, as he slowly guides his newfound accomplice to some refuge far, far away, that he becomes aware of their connection. Though it is tiny and minute, the self-awareness begins. And he promises to hold true to the unspoken vow. Even if the other knows not of its existence.

---

It would’ve made sense to say that their relationship opened up with a rocky start. That’s what Luhan had expected, anyway.

He had thought that Yixing would be bitter about the fact that Luhan had basically tricked him. Because that would have made sense. He had thought that Yixing would want nothing to do with him. That would have made sense, too. But most importantly, Luhan figured that Yixing would have at least wanted to talk about all that had occurred in that single night. So when he realized that the other had no intentions of bringing it up, he tried to do so himself—not because it was something he wanted to talk about (God, no), but rather because he thought that the younger male was trying to maintain politeness by ignoring the subject.

When Yixing mumbles “I don’t know what you’re going on about. But I’m absolutely exhausted. Can we please just find a place to sleep?” in response, Luhan is absolutely flabbergasted. Yet he finds that arguing will do him no good, so he quietly tightens his grip around the younger man’s waist before snapping his fingers to return them back to the human world.

They arrive in an elaborate building of sorts that is full of tapestries and intricately detailed pieces of furniture, and Yixing is honestly startled by the fact that there are these strange utensils that the men and women in the room are eating with because he’s never seen them before. When a man dressed in foreign garb speaks in a language that Yixing finds choppy and bizarre, he’s astounded to find that he can understand what the man is proclaiming: the announcement of the arrival of Eastern ambassadors.

When Luhan smirks and responds to the proclamation with a deep bow, Yixing has no choice but to do the same. And suddenly, the eccentrically dressed people with the terribly odd features are shown into a frenzy and all Yixing can really understand is that they’re delighted to be in the company with such exotic merchants (merchants, he silently guffaws, when on Earth did we become merchants?) who have come all the way from China.  The duo are quickly surrounded and Yixing is even more bewildered than he is before, until Luhan whispers to him in the reassuring comfort of his native tongue, “Don’t worry, I’ve done this countless times before. I’ll explain everything later, okay?”

Having at least one thing to remind him of his everyday normalcy is enough to soothe Yixing’s nerves, even for but a moment.

He hopes that Luhan doesn’t mind when he tightens his grip on the elder’s extravagant robes. In his defense, he just wants to be able to cling to the one thing that he can relate to in a sea full of strangers and he wants to make sure that his anchor won’t suddenly disappear on him.

It’s surely not because he doesn’t want to be alone again.

No, that would be ridiculous. This man is still technically just a stranger despite the feeling in his chest that’s telling him otherwise. (Yixing reasons that that piece of his chest mustn’t be thinking right because that idea makes no sense at all. He then realizes that that logic wouldn’t make any sense because his chest shouldn’t be able to think, so he decides that it must be his fatigue that is just confusing him so much.)

It isn’t long before Luhan manages to convince them of the exhaustion that their “trip” has caused, and the two are immediately escorted to a bedroom adorned with all sorts of drapes and paintings that seem so tacky that Yixing wants to wince.

When he and Luhan are finally left alone however, Luhan smiles and points towards the biggest piece of furniture in the room, “Rest there. It’s much more comfortable than what we have back home.”

Yixing allows the older man to guide him to the bed, before asking, "Where are we, exactly?"

“The West. You know, where the missionaries are from,” Luhan responds. “It’s kind of funny that they actually believed my story about our being merchants. These petty Europeans never have anything of particular interest. I suppose that they’re simply naïve enough to think that they’re finally capturing our attention.” He shrugs once, before looking around the room with a grimace, “How rude. They didn’t even have the courtesy to give us another bed.”

The younger man allows himself a chuckle, before sinking into the plush mattress below him with a soft moan, “Don’t be so dramatic. A place to rest is a place to rest.”

“Yes, but if we leave now, I’m pretty sure that I can snatch us a different means of lodging in which I won’t have to sleep on the floor. I’m pretty sure that a rat just ran across my foot.”

Yixing doesn’t bother to strip himself of his clothing, and simply slips under the covers, “I want you to know that I have no intentions of leaving this bed until I’ve gotten enough sleep. I like it here. It’s nice.”

Luhan opens his mouth to retort, but once he realizes that Yixing’s eyes have already shut, whatever sarcastic remark that was on his tongue flutters away. He sighs for a moment, debating whether or not he should wake up the younger man with a fit, but he’s quickly reminded that he sort of owes him right now, so he decides not to.

Instead, he exits the room and throws a tantrum demanding that someone come back and him to a place that has a spare bed.

He’s quickly shut up when Yixing—who seems to be very much awake—snatches his collar and drags him back to the room with a chuckle, “You’re going to get us kicked out before we really even begin our stay. So just shut up for the night. I don’t mind sharing the bed.”

Luhan is happy that the darkness covers of the bright red of his cheeks because he honestly has no idea how he would explain himself.

---

When they wake up the next morning, they are rudely reminded of their apparent "occupation".

It is when one of the servants comes into their room to leave the reminder that the Lord and Lady of the house are looking forward to viewing their wares that Luhan and Yixing share a silent exchange.

"So, how are you planning to fib your way through this one?"

There's a pause as the older male contemplates the possible courses of action, before he decides on a calm shrug. "I genuinely didn't think this far ahead. I say we just—"

"—Disappear," Yixing finishes with a smirk on his expression. "It'll be like we were never even here."

Luhan chuckles at the fact that his younger friend is able to follow his train of thought so easily, "Come on, let's get moving before they send another servant back to check on us."

"You can't just... poof us out?"

"I don't think you understand how much energy that takes up. It's too early in the morning for that. We're making a run for it."

Yixing laughs at that before the two slip through the open window.

---

Conning and lying become a habit of sorts for the two.

A little white lie in order to get whatever they felt they needed, and then a simple trick to get themselves out of what would otherwise be an uncomfortable confrontation. The pattern becomes a sort of unbreakable habit that leave the two gasping for air from fits of uncontrollable laughter at each one of their crazed escapades.

And between inflicting heartbreak on unsuspecting women, promising false treasures to rich men, enacting artificial tragedies of two orphaned brothers or childhood incidents that left the two gorgeous men with horrible scars and an extensive medical bill, the bond between the two strengthen. Between the millions of lies they uttered between their lips and the one or two declarations of the truth, they become genuine friends. With a simple look, they could communicate all of their thoughts; a light tap on the shoulder was an unspoken signal that only the two could understand; frenzied laughter that lasted well into the night became a daily occurrence that only the two could share with one another.

Their relationship was something special. Something that people would spend their whole lives hoping for but never attaining. Albeit, Luhan and Yixing had cheated fate by extending their time in order to form such a relationship. But through their eyes, the friendship was something that was simply meant to be: time meant nothing to them, and it never would. As the years went on, the line between Devil's right-hand man and former normal human blurred into nothing but white space. They were equals to one another. Just as bad and just as good.

Yet despite centuries and centuries of adventures, there had never been a verbal assurance muttered between the two to confirm that the depths of their friendship were something mutually understood.

It wasn't until one of their twentieth century exploits led to Luhan's development of the influenza that their abuses to the rest of the human population came to a halt.

"I told you to wear a coat. But did you listen to me? No."

"You sound like my mother, Xing." The older male had whined as he allowed his head to sink further into the plush pillow below him. "What are you going to do next? Read me to bed?"

There was a moment of silence, before Yixing shrugged, "If I don't take care of you, then who would? Because I'm sure that you're too childish to actually care for yourself, Lu." He chuckled at his own joke, before continuing his words to prevent Luhan from speaking up, "I don't mind reading to you if it means that it'll make you sleep. Is my voice really that tiring to listen to?"

"No," Luhan starts without thinking, "Your voice is just very soothing. Listening to you talk relaxes me."

Yixing blinks in surprise at the innocence with which the words are spoken, before a small smile lights up his features, "Okay then. Where's that book that you were in the middle of? I'll just continue from wherever you left off."

"Somewhere... Over there."

If Luhan wasn't already bedridden, Yixing would've hit him for being so vague. But unfortunately for him, Luhan is bedridden and he's too good of a friend to hurt someone who continuously complains that he's going to die despite the fact that they both know it's impossible.

"Peter and Wendy? Is this the one?"

There is a faint hum of approval, along with a murmured, "I like it so far. It reminds me of us."

The words intrigue the younger man greatly, especially since he had never felt so much interest in something as simple as literature before. Yixing flips the book over in order to analyze the cover, and finds himself somewhat amused when he realizes that the book that his older friend seems to be so in love with is a simple children's book. "How so?"

"Well the way I see it," Luhan tiredly starts, eyes fluttering in a lame attempt to stay awake, "I'm like Peter, and you're like Wendy." Yixing opens his mouth to protest his sudden role of female protagonist, but Luhan continues before he has the chance, "Peter is from a wondrous place called Neverland where he has a bunch of enjoyable adventures. But one day, he finds himself outside Wendy's window and he convinces her to come to Neverland with him. And they travel all across the land and have a lot of fun together. That sounds a lot like us." He pauses for a moment, before his eyes momentarily brighten, "We've always been trying to come up with a new name for the In-Between, right? Neverland sounds pretty nice. I think that this Barrie fellow is secretly one of us."

Yixing can only smile at Luhan's childlike comparison, "I suppose so. Is that really all the book is about? A child lamenting her future, and a stranger who promises her that that future never has to come? Is that the extent of their relationship?"

He hears his friend mumble something about how his habit of incessant questioning never faded away before he responds with a blunt, "I'm not sure, Xing. I'm not even halfway through the book yet."

"Whatever the princess wants," his friend singsongs. Yixing flips to the dog-eared page of the book and begins to read from the top of the page, "'Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it...'"

It isn't long before Luhan's breathing begins to level itself out, and Yixing allows himself to silently finish reading the chapter.

He's quick to see why the sickly man enjoys the story so much: with the innocence of the main characters and the whimsical tone with which the story is told, it seems like something that would be quick to strike chords in its readers despite their varying ages. And with Luhan's previous comparison to the main characters and themselves, Yixing can't help but comically imagine him and Luhan prancing around a mystical world leading a gang of rambunctious children into silly adventures. The thought is enough to cause a small smile to spread across his features.

For a moment, he debates reading ahead in order to see how the story ends, but a quick glance at the amount of pages he has left makes him quickly change his mind. Luhan would probably tell him how it ended once he finished reading it anyway.

Besides, a children's book couldn't possibly have a sad ending. That would just be strange. It would probably end with another happily ever after.

That's just how stories go, right?

---

Luhan is able to recover pretty quickly (though this fails to shock either one of the men), and the two soon depart from their temporary lodging in order to avoid having to pay their owed rent.

In their rush, they forget to bring the copy of "Peter and Wendy"—it is left, complete with numerous folded and unfolded pages, on the nightstand by the bed.

Yixing offers to buy his elder a new one once they stumble across another bookstore, but by the time the occasion rolls around, the book is one of the last things on their minds.

They never do find out how the story of Peter and Wendy ends.