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Yifan is already sitting in class when Yixing walks through the door, only nodding at Jia's bright wave as he makes a beeline towards Yifan's desk, almost bowling Jackson over from where he's leaning over the desk, trying to steal Jinyoung's coffee. Yixing comes to an abrupt stop, looming over Yifan, and then doesn't say anything at all, as the whole class pauses in a collective intake of breath.
Yifan isn't looking up at Yixing; he's flicking through something on his phone, not really looking at the screen as much as he's avoiding Yixing's gaze.
Yixing doesn't need to say anything.
It only takes 13 seconds for Yifan to crack, shoulders shifting only minisculey as he pulls his hand out of his pocket, the cuff of his sweater hiding everything but the tip of his middle finger. Yixing's expression hardens and softens at the same time, a wrinkle flicking in and out of sight at the corner of his mouth where Yifan would rather see a dimple. Yixing reaches for the hand, and Yifan winces, just slightly, but Yixing, at such close quarters, sees everything.
The rest of their classmates have already turned away, it's business as usual, Yifan and Yixing and their little thing that doesn't have any words, and Yifan meets Yixing's eyes in the little pool of quiet that encompasses only them.
Yixing still doesn't say anything, but his fingers, slipping over the skin of Yifan's hand beneath his sleeve, don't miss a thing.
There's a blink, the flash of eyelashes and a flutter of something that's too warm to be a breeze, and then Yixing is pulling away, only a step, to slip onto the chair behind the desk next to Yifan's, letting his textbook fall on the surface with a thud.
"How was your weekend?" Mark asks over his shoulder, now that the coast is clear.
"Mine was relaxing," Yixing replies, flipping through his notebook. There's a slight emphasis on the mine, and neither Mark, nor Yifan stiffening in his seat, miss it. When Yifan finally reaches for his own books, hand slipping out of his sleeve, the skin is perfectly unblemished.
"What are you doing up there?" Henry calls from the courtyard, lunch in hand. Yixing waves back, ignoring the question, his mouth full of toast and lettuce and tomato, perched on the the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the edge.
It's a four floor drop. Henry shakes his head, disappearing back into the cafeteria; the sound of voices swells and then cuts off as the door swings shut behind him.
"Pot calling the kettle black?" Yifan asks suddenly from behind Yixing, who doesn't jump, but the half sandwich slips out of his grasp, falling towards the concrete of the courtyard below.
"Jerk!" Yixing says, sticking his tongue out at Yifan who's no longer there; he turns and reaches for the half sandwich held out to him, Yifan sitting beside him now, eyeing the concrete below.
There's a tomato slice lying on the ground, slightly smashed.
"Sorry," Yifan says, but he doesn't really sound apologetic. Yixing elbows him in the ribs, and takes another bite.
"Ouch," Yifan protests, and reaches for his own lunch, sitting on the roof between them. Yixing eyes the rice-tuna-seaweed-mayonnaise mix and rolls his eyes. Yifan takes a big bite.
"What were you doing anyway?" Yixing asks, waiting until Yifan has his mouth full and has to chew furiously before he can swallow and answer. "Fingers don't break themselves."
"Rough landing," Yifan says, cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. Yixing huffs, blowing air over his bottom lip.
"One of these days. . ." he warns, without much conviction. Yifan just ignores him, and takes another bite. Yixing thinks about shoving him over the side of the roof, but it's more fuss than it's worth.
"You guys are crazy!" Jia calls from the courtyard below. Yixing grins, waving back.