#throwing rice at pigeons in the park kind of day

[chogiwrites]

300 Yuan To Love || Lay

Summary: The road to hell is paved with good intentions and, in this case, some rice cakes along the way. Or: Yixing makes a dumb bet but even when he wins, he loses.

Lenght: 5.4k

Genre: Humour/Fluff/mild Angst

Like with all shitty things in life, at least from a masculine standpoint, it begins with the desire to take a cute girl out on a date.

It’s hot and humid in Hangzhou, as is typical for the summer cycle in this part of China, and Zhang Yixing bikes up to Wang Xun’s cake stand with his balls tucked neatly in his wicker basket. This was his grandma’s doing, really. She knew Yixing needed a job and whilst she was wandering the neighborhood one afternoon, she ran into him.

Had it been anybody else, had it even been written in the Constitution of the People’s Republic of China, then Yixing would’ve immediately said no. But, it just so happens that Yixing is weak for his granny. So, when she returned from her walk, staggering with a fabric trolley full of leeks and other proteins, with a shiny look in her eyes, Zhang Yixing was honor-bound to accept.

Glutinous rice cakes are Zhang Yixing’s worst nightmare, and he starts work the next day

Just the smell is enough to give him a thick sense of nausea. Wang Xun knows this, and Yixing is about ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that he’s banking off of that. So, what’s it about it all, that has Yixing bike towards there, on a road so quintessential that you could practically hear the 80’s pop music behind him?

Well, he needs a new haircut, that’s what. That, and he wants the opportunity to take his best friend, you, out someplace nice. It’s the latter mostly. Especially the latter.

You both entered Uni not too long ago but only one entered the prestigious option. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t Yixing. It doesn’t bother him much though, because he never intends to be a fancy businessman anyway. He applied to a local college to learn dance, and music theory, which he’s passionate about. On top of that, even though it sees him lose more money than it ever does see him gain it— Yixing enjoys posting his amateur attempts at rapping over on Weibo, which garners some positive feedback.

Meanwhile, there’s you. You’ve been friends with him since the first grade but you’re about as different from him as a banana to a pineapple. You set out to enter business, much like the rest of your family, and Yixing often catches you nowadays during your coffee not-dates in pressed blouses and pencil skirts. Your fierce makeup gives you an air of exclusivity, which makes Yixing’s breezy noncommittal to looking posh, nearly garish.

His idea of having a sense of style is often eclectic and vintage, in conflicting patterns and textures. He got into krumping, and this saw him, in turn, get into wearing blaze red tracksuits and little braids in his hair. It also saw him bleach his hair to the point of no return, which you made fun of him for relentlessly.

The consequence of having such an outlandish appearance—though at this point, he has his hair an ugly, faded red— came one day, full force, during one of your bi-weekly coffee not-dates.

You two were in the midst of a serious conversation when some yuppie mistook your frown as being caused by Yixing’s presence. So, he did what any overbearing yuppie does. He tried to forcibly remove Yixing from the situation with the same technique you use to swat away a pigeon that wants your Kentucky Fried Chicken.

It was embarrassing for all three of you and this is where it does bother Yixing, who’s become notorious for being blissfully unaware of any and everything. For one, he doesn’t see you as often as he wants to, and secondly, a part of him worries he’s slowly sinking beneath you.

Sure, this was a lifelong thing. You’d always come from the better and wealthier family whilst Yixing grew up with his grandparents in a relatively small, rickety house. But you don’t feel these things when you’re ten and frog hunting in the mud, you don’t feel these things when you hold your best friend’s dirty hand at the bus stop to ‘see what it’s like’ on your way to the arcade.

Admittedly, Yixing isn’t super certain as to why he feels the way he feels. He’ll figure this out by the end of the day but he doesn’t know that yet. His pretty face earns him a lot of kind-hearted Jiejies who’re happy to pay for his lunches out of pity. Usually, he’ll open up his phone and add a reminder in his notes to pay them back when he can, and this tends to be the end of his guilt. But, he doesn’t ponder on it too long either.

It’s not exactly in Yixing’s nature to delve too deeply into his own psyche, it’s that naive streak of his. He’s simple-minded and he knows that he is. It keeps him happy and he has that mindset from what he likes, all the way down to what he dislikes.

So, when he finally parks by the stall, over-grown bangs tied in a silly looking bun and testicles in tow, he resolves to approach this in the same way Zhang Yixing approaches all areas of his life:

He’ll just have to do his very best.

“Yixing!” Wang Xun says cheerfully, greeting Yixing with a tight hug after he locks his bike up to an iron fence. “Wow! So handsome!” He beams, pinching at those devastatingly high cheekbones as Yixing’s face quickly goes flush.

“Thank you, Gege.” He replies with a small, polite bow. Yixing’s humble and appreciative demeanor is broken as soon as he glances over at the thick, fragrant slabs of cake, just waiting to be touched, fondled and sold. His skin takes on a greenish hue.

Catching this, Xun thinks now would be a good time to have a little bit of fun with his new employee.

See, this job is often a dull one and last night, his wife, bless her memory, accidentally made double the usual quantity. Even on the busiest day, there’s always at least a bit of leftovers. This usually isn’t much of an issue because there’s a homeless shelter nearby. The only problem? They were quickly becoming tired of being constantly fed leftover rice cakes. Wang Xun hates waste, so he has a plan.

Diddling his fingers, he begins, “I heard from your granny that you want to earn some extra money. I know this doesn’t pay so well, but… How would you like to place a wager?”

Yixing turns to him with a look that is simultaneously hopeful and apprehensive. Wang Xun thinks that, oh yes, this will be fun. Very fun indeed. Unfortunately thouh, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and, in this case, some rice cakes along the way.

For you, whom summer often means being able to forget your studies and instead, focus on your friends and family, this one is already shaping up to be a massive disappointment. Some of your friends went back to their hometowns, whilst others went abroad. The most important contestant though, Zhang Yixing, your closest friend, your secret beloved, had gotten a job.

Your shoulders fell right down to your ankles when you got the news over the phone a night ago. But he sounded so excited that you couldn’t bare to complain. After all, you weren’t his girlfriend. Did Yixing even have a girlfriend? You don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk about any girls, even though he always has at least one woman around him. Maybe he was gay?

You sighed, lying on your back with your phone across your chest.

You only become concerned for Yixing and his mental state, when you find out what his job is, and the strange bet that succeeds it. You receive that text at ten am sharp.

«(Y/N)! Me and Xun-Ge (Do you remember him? He says hi! ^^) Made a bet for three hundred yuan to see who can sell the most rice cakes. The catch is that if we aren’t exact in our measurements, we must eat the surplus. I hope you’ll come and support me!!»

You reply instantly, wondering if all of this is some sick prank but that’s not in his character. Of course you remember Wang Xun, he runs that cake stand near the city square. You like his wife’s cakes but with that you also know…

«Yixing… You hate rice cakes???»

«I know, this means I’ll be even more motivated to win! Please come and support me!»

And this is how you end up on a plastic pull-out chair, watching your best friend torture himself for three hundred yuan, under the hot sun. “Are you ready, Yixing?” Wang Xun asks him and his grin is devilish. You can tell he completely expects Yixing to tank the whole competition.

“I was born ready, Gege! May the best man win!” Yixing grins and throws a little glance over his shoulder, hoping that you think he’s cool.

In that silly ‘Zhang Yixing’ way, he does look pretty cool, especially when he lifts the hem of his neon t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his browbone. The sad thing is that you would put money down the fact that Yixing will lose the three hundred yuan.

Truthfully, he can win this competition on sex appeal alone, if only he was aware of his own pull to begin with. Yixing isn’t though. He never was. He has the habit of presenting himself as a perfect image of self-control. You reckon the only correlation he’s made thus far is that the less clothes he wears, the more the female sex tends to smile around him. It’s a bit silly because Yixing, even now, will still walk around you in nothing but his boxers, as if he doesn’t look like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad.

Needless to say, you, who has known him since a young age, rarely get to see him eschew from that respectability— sans his semi-nudist tendencies, that is.

Well, that’s until he begins losing the bet. Make no mistake though, Yixing tanks the bet before it can even begin.

“Ahhh, just 0.75? Why not make it a full KG?” Yixing whines at the customer, an older woman with a cold and mysterious look to her. “You don’t need to worry about your diet, Jiejie, you’re beautiful just the way you are. Eat the full kilo, your heart will thank you.”

Wang Xun chortles in the background as No-Name Jiejie rips him a new one. Somewhat offended yourself, you instinctively cross your arms across your soft middle and bite your lip. The next customer is another female, this one about high school aged. She orders a meager 0.25 KG and you try not to look at her with too much jealousy.

As she leaves, she turns to say: “Gege, you’re very handsome, but you shouldn’t make comments about a woman’s body like this. I think it’d be better if you found her and apologized for wounding her pride. Have a nice day~”

She waves before turning on her heels and Yixing looks at you in desperation, not understanding where his sales tactics are failing him. Your response is to cock a brow.

Even before his embarrassing comments, which you can only attribute as being brought on by a semester spent in South Korea, where he held a part time job as the person advertising Gangnam PS on the train, you were already slowly becoming annoyed with him. Why did you even bother to come out here in the first place?

It was unbearably hot and all you’re doing is watching the sweat stain on his back grow and grow while your thighs become welted from the plastic straps on the chair. Your leg skin is ruddy and bumped from shaving the night before and even though you like rice cakes, that and the smell of humid, mowed grass is threatens to make you sick.

Plus, it’s not as if you enjoy watching Yixing lose a dumb bet he should’ve already known he’d never win. By the time the sun is at it’s peak, around one-ish, you confront him behind the pagoda, where he gags in his fist.

“Yixing, I want to go home.” You say with your arms crossed, leaning against a ridged wall as you stare down at the dirt between you two. Yixing instantly looks up— churning stomach be damned. His eyes are wide and his face is a sweaty mess, but despite that, the disappointment is evident.

“You can’t go!” His voice comes out more frantically than it perhaps should. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, trying not to seem too upset with him. Rather, you wish to simply look like you’re not feeling well. The snap to your tone betrays you though. It always does.

“This is ridiculous. It’s too hot outside and you’re making a goddamn fool out of yourself. What was the point of even having me here?” Yixing’s lips press into a thin line.

“We haven’t hung out in a while so—”

“So you think having me watch you make yourself sick is fun?” Normally, you would dislike the mean edge in your laugh, whenever you got the least bit annoyed with him. It might be the oppressive heat making your adrenaline run higher. Or, maybe, just maybe, Yixing’s lack of negative aspect gets on your nerves a lot more than you’d like to admit. Maybe, a deep, dark part of you wants to see Yixing get annoyed with you too, show you a face more offended than just one of mild hurt.

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, Yixing shoves his palms down his back pockets and rocks on his heels. Exhaling through his nose, Yixing opens his mouth to speak but closes up, pouting in a way which makes his lips look even pinker than they already are. It’s aggro, plain and simple.

“Aiyo! All this for an extra three hundred yuan you won’t win anyway?” You scoff, “If you need it so badly, ask me. I’ll lend it to you.”

Finally, his facade cracks and you’re not sure you like what you see. “Three hundred yuan may not mean much to you but it means a lot to others! Not everybody is wealthy like you!” His voice raises an octave, tone turning nasally and thick.

“You’re right. It means jack shit to me.” To prove your point, you reach into your daisy-shaped purse and pull out a few crumpled notes. “That’s why you should just relieve me of my burden and take the fucking yuan.”

Yixing, with his face as red as a chili pepper, gently pushes your hand back towards you. “You’re not treating me like a man.” He says.

Stomping your foot against the grass, you cry out: “Because you aren’t a man, Zhang Yixing!”

With that comes a steady, harsh silence. Yixing looks at you with an expression which you can’t decipher, as it’s not one you’ve ever seen on him. Once the guilt hits, and it hits fast, you let out a choked, “I’m going home. I’ll text you later.”

Just like that, you leave him there, before you lose control of your emotions in an entirely new way. After all, if Yixing never wanted to kiss you before, he certainly isn’t going to want to kiss you now, after what you just said to him.

Throwing your leg across the body of your bike, you push yourself until your knees hurt and Yixing is but a speck in the distance.

Things don’t get any better for Yixing after you leave, if anything, they become even worse, which is saying something. The idea of winning this bet begins to seem more and more fantastical, especially with the strange feeling holding onto his heart.

Whether it’s due to your hurtful words, or an impending heart attack, remains uncertain but one thing is for sure. Yixing has brain cells, and those brain cells are rapidly depleting.

“Ahh!” He screams, in Xiang, out at the neighboring lake and all the people paddle-boating. They stop and look at him like he’s an insane chipmunk. “It’s such a beautiful day!”

Yixing waves his fists around before cramming more baked shame down his gullet. Whilst singing an obscure folk song, he nearly falls over the stony ledge whilst doing a jaunty little dance.

Wang Xun, who has greatly overestimated his own mathematical prowess, as well as his abilities as a businessman, is the one who stops Yixing from meeting his soggy demise.

He places two sobering hands on Yixing’s shoulders. “We still have more cakes to sell.” When he speaks, passerbys can see his soul leave from his lips. Much like Yixing, Wang Xun has consumed so much goddamn cake that he fears he’ll wake up a rice cake. He reconsiders his line of work, but its much too late for that quitter mentality. He and Yixing are in it to the death.

Yixing, gaunt-cheeked, turns around with a rattle. “Gege… I want to give up.” He utters miserably. Xun considers calling the bet off himself but, the sun is setting, twilight is nearly upon them. He’s already lost so much money that unless he returns home victorious, there was a big chance he wouldn’t see the next day as a married man.

He laughs so hard the button holding his jeans together pops and hits Yixing right in the big toe.

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Once you get home, the first thing you do is kick off your sweaty sandals before lying belly-first across your bed. Your eyes prickle as you shake your head to yourself. This is so stupid, you’re not really about to cry over Yixing again, are you?

Your fingers twist in your bed sheets as a few tears manage to squeeze their way out of your eyes. It seems like you are.

Flipping over so that your nose is in the air, you try to blink away the wetness. Throwing your arm across your face, your thoughts go to how stupid Yixing is. How stupid you are. Anybody with half a functional brain cell could see that you have a crush on him, one which spanned nearly the entirety of your friendship.

In elementary school, it was strange, because you never felt this way about anybody, not even the handsome actors you saw on TV. The only thing you had a full grasp on was that you liked this strange, chubby boy, who was also your close friend— a lot.

He had a sweet penchant for taking care of cats, none of which he could remember to name and whenever you were sad, he would lift his shirt and jiggled his belly.

His grandma also made delicious, albeit very spicy food, and they spoke in a dialect of Chinese which you couldn’t understand but found amusing to listen to. Afterwards, Yixing would let you rest your ear against his soft middle to hear the way his food digested, and all those gurgles and pops.

Your first experience with unrequited love must have been that. When you began wanting to nudge your head, so that your lips could press tender, butterfly kisses between his fleshy, brown rib cage. Instinctively, you knew not to.

High school was bearable, but only because for the majority of it, you were more popular than Yixing.

It was during the second to last year were his height shot and he became taller than most of the other boys. Suddenly, girls started to look at him with the same eyes as you. Suddenly, girls began to notice how handsome he was, how kind he was. It leaves you as you are now, supine on your mattress, unsure where to go from this point on.

With your pride majorly wounded, you stand up and waddle your way across the hall. Rarely are you ever desperate enough to ask your older sister, Mei, for advice. You knock on her door.

“What do you want?” She snaps, sliding off her headset. You take this as the okay to sit on her bed and divulge, and she eyes you with suspicion every step. “It’s just,” You sigh, smacking your lips as your legs cross beneath you. “Do you remember Yixing?”

Her face falls instantly. “Oh no. No. No. Not him again!” She grabs a small My Melody plush from her desk and chucks it towards your head. “Get out. I’m not listening to any of this Yixing shit. If I wanted a Korean drama, I’d go look on Tencent.”

You grabbed the toy and threw it back at her, whining, “I’m serious!!”

Mei kicks your knee with her manicured, cream toes. “Listen!” She cries in exasperation, throwing out her hands. “How many times will you bitch about this? If Zhang Yixing liked you back, he would’ve made a move by now. It’s as simple as that!” Conceding yourself to the understanding that, yes, Yixing doesn’t see you the way you see him, you look down at the small floral decals over her nailbed and begin to pick with a puffed cheek. “I understand that, Jiejie… But I may have said something mean to him.”

Seeing the sad look on your face makes Mei relent. “Then apologize to him, dummy.” She sighs as you lay across your side, clutching her foot to you as you try to hold back tears. She pushes herself closer, replacing her foot with a hand in yours, using the spare to push some wet strands from your face.

“Look,” She rolls her eyes, though she’s taken on a gentler tone. “Zhang Yixing sees you as a friend. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck by your side for all of these years. If you said something mean to him, just tell him you weren’t feeling well and that you’re sorry. He seems like a nice guy, I’m sure he’ll forgive you easily. But before that, I think you need to forgive him for not being able to return your feelings, (Y/N). You’re always getting into these petty arguments, it seems to me like you’ve become bitter over your unrequited feelings. You need to make peace with the fact that you’re his friend and nothing but, or else the day will come where Zhang Yixing will no longer feel like accepting your apologies.” You nod, but why does it hurt so much to let go of this love, even if it’s hopeless?

Eventually, after you calm yourself down and rinse off your face, you begin to feel more and more uncomfortable with the way you’ve treated him. It grows and it grows until you can’t take it anymore. You set off to try and find him and, hopefully, make things right again.

“I lost, didn’t I?” Yixing breathes, sitting on the stone steps as Wang Xun begins to pack up for the day. With an apologetic smile, the older man replies, “Yes, but barely.”

“Ahhh,” He sighs, looking up at the stars. Today has been a real nightmare. It seems like nothing he set out has accomplish. He’s offended people for no reason, rocks live in his stomach and worst of all, you’ve become upset with him. Yixing swallows thickly.

“(Y/N)’s become rather feisty since I’ve last seen her.” Xun points out. “She has.” There’s a silence before Yixing adds, “Gege, I don’t know if there’s room for me in her life anymore. The more I think of it, the more I feel I don’t belong by her side. We used to laugh and smile together but nowadays, whenever I call her out, she’s tense. We never used to fight this much, I think she thinks I’m beneath her, and is only trying to spare my emotions.”

Wang Xun takes a seat next to him, stretching out his legs before glancing up at the sky as well. “All this because of what she said?” Yixing doesn’t respond, which is confirmation enough.

“Women— No, not just women, people will often say things they don’t mean when they feel as though they’ve been hurt.” He says, “I think the same is true for her. She’ll apologize soon enough, so don’t take her words to heart.” Pause. “And if she doesn’t? There are so many more women out there for you to pine after. Eventually, you’ll find the one who doesn’t break your heart.”

Neither of them speak after this, not until something, or rather somebody, catches Yixing’s eye. It’s the Jiejie from earlier. Excusing himself, Yixing jogs up to her.

She stops the moment she sees him and scowls. “What do you want?” She snaps, her dog running off into the bushes. Her expression is so fierce, it reminds him a bit of yours.

Though he freezes up, he pushes past it and she jumps back when he bows so deeply, there’s a crack to his spine.

“I wanted to say that I’m really sorry if I offended you earlier today,” Yixing blushes, “You see, I had a bet with that man over there.” He points over to Wang Xun, who’s in the process of cleaning his ear out with his pinkie. “And I’m afraid in my attempt to earn a bit of extra pocket money, I’ve said and done some things I normally wouldn’t say or do. I hope you can forgive me.”

The woman stood there stunned and Yixing is afraid that might not be enough. She thinks of his apology for a second before shaking it off. “I see,” She nods pensively. “I take it, this was all for your girlfriend’s sake?” Yixing stands up straight, blinking a few times for clarity.

“What girlfriend?”

“The girl that sat behind you, she wasn’t your girlfriend?” Yixing shakes his head. “Christ…” She mumbles, instantly grateful that she’s already lived through the ‘stupid love’ phase. She sighs.

“I forgive you. We all have lapses in our judgment and as long as you understand that, and think before you speak next time, I don’t see a reason to hold it against you.”

“Thank you, Jiejie!” Yixing says with a big, happy grin, bowing deeply once more. His heart clears itself a tiny bit.

Unfortunately for his cardiovascular health, at this moment, you bike up next to him and Yixing’s heart is back to feeling like it’s about to burst. Shit.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” You ask, much to the woman’s amusement. “No. Me and your ‘friend’ over here were just touching base. I need to go home anyway.” She says, tugging the leash so that her puppy comes running back at her ankles.

As she turns around, she makes sure to tack on a “Good luck!” It’s for both of your sakes.

You park your bike up by the tree trunk, feeling the awkwardness finally hit. It’s already nightfall and the air has cooled off significantly, but you’re so ashamed that your cheeks are blazing and hot.

“Did you apologize to her for earlier?” You ask despite its redundancy. Yixing nods and you can see it from the illumination caused by the lampposts. “I did.”

“That’s good!” You hum, trying to keep your voice steady as you fish a green, rectangular bottle out of your purse. “I got you a probiotic drink to help you with… y’know. Here. Catch.”

It lands in his hands and Yixing beams brighter than the stars. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” You furrow your eyebrows. “Because you came back.”

Saying it outloud only has Yixing smile wider and it eats up at his eyes in the most charming of ways. You feel your heart throb.

Clearing your throat, you stutter out. “Right! About that…” You will yourself not to mask your true emotions with the air of nonchalance but you meet his eyes and, fuck, you might as well do that or just start crying.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean any of it. It was wrong and I regret ever treating you this way.” You expect Yixing to hold a more serious stance, but he laughs, opening his arms.

“Aw, it’s alright. Come here and give me a hug.”

Slowly, you take steps towards him before burrowing into his chest, hands fisting against his shirt as tears begin to prickle in your eyes. Yixing smells too sweet and sweaty but past that, you can feel the warmth of his skin. His body is solid yet comforting and you want to be in his arms all day and all night.

“Why are you crying?” Yixing asks, feeling the moisture through his shirt. and you laugh dryly. He sways you side to side before pulling at your face. “If you cry, I might start crying too.”

Yixing’s fingers release from your skin and instead, move to hold you. “So, no crying, alright?” The touch makes you breathless.

“Yixing, I…” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them. He tilts his head, smiling softly in anticipation. Should you confess to him? You already know you have to let this go. Will it make your shoulders lighter if he knows how you feel? You shake your head at yourself.

No. Yixing is too delicate of a person to treat you the same knowing you’ve fallen for him. Seeing your knees buckle, Yixing leads you to the bench. Swallowing your heart, you resolve for the next best truth.

“Yixing, I’ve missed you a lot.” “Oh! I’ve missed you too.” Yixing responds with an annoying ease, uncapping the pribiotic before taking a sip. He grimaces at the bitter taste, making you giggle at his cute reaction. As you laugh, Yixing’s heart does a somersault and suddenly, there’s not enough air in the world. It’s an emotion that only you cause in him. Not even the prettiest girls give him this type of feeling and it puts him on edge, but in the most tender way.

“Why did you accept this bet anyway?” You ask, gazing at the lake, which is now devoid of people. Steady and dark, with the reflection of the moon.

Yixing considers it. “I think I did it to feel better about myself.” He leans back and caps the bottle, fingers almost touching yours as he holds the bottle between his knees.

He stares up at the silver moon.

You turn to look at him in surprise, gazing at his profile. Yixing catches you in his peripheral and nods with a sheepish smile. “Yeah.”

He swallows and then adds, “My hair needs fixing and…” He considers closely the next thing he’s about to say, but throughout the past several hours, this is the only conclusion he can draw. The more he says the words in his head, the righter they feel. “And I wanted to take you out on a date.”

Your eyes widen and Yixing grabs your hand, too afraid that you’ll run from him again. “But I lost the bet, so there’s that.” He mumbles.

With the air squeezed from your lungs, you whisper, “We don’t need money to—”

“I know we don’t, but I wanted it anyway. It was selfish and vain of me, I know. But, I thought… Maybe if I had more money, you’d be more inclined to see me as a man… As somebody you can actually date.”

Taking the leap of faith, you lace your fingers through his. Yixing squeezes tight and you close your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his hand. Years. It’s been years since he’s done this.

You’ve waited so long, since that day at the bus stop, to feel his hand on yours again and for it not be just to see what it feels like. Finally, you feel like you can breathe. It fits as perfectly against yours as it did back then.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I do think of you as a man. I’m sorry that I’m bitter and dramatic. I’ve taken these emotions out on you without realizing it, all because I’m bothered that you don’t see me the way I’ve seen you throughout all these years. I hope you can forgive me, I’ve been a bad friend.”

“When you speak with such a voice,” Yixing laughs, “It’s impossible for me not to. I’m scared of what you could do to me.”

There’s a silence and you bring his knuckles up to your lips. Yixing’s eyes flutter shut with a lazy grin.

There’s never been such a perfect moment in his life.

“I like you just the way you are.” You whisper, the feeling is just about the same for you too. “Thank you.”

“And I’ll wait patiently for you to take me on the date you feel we deserve.” “Thank you.”

He repeats as you two lean against each other and enjoy the serenity of an empty park. If this is what all these years have been working towards, then it must all be worth it in the end. It may not be a crescendo of epic proportions, a searing, tear-filled kiss in the rain, a loud, emotional ‘I love you’ shouted in the middle of a crowded airport, but this is perfect.

Zhang Yixing can turn the mundane into something extraordinary, this is what’s most beautiful about him to you. For a moment, it’s all quiet and that’s just fine.

Until he gets sick all over a bundle of Lotus roots, that is.

[edgar-allan-foe]

[nameless short story]

Word Count: almost 2k with a crap ton of talking/fluff

A/N:  I haven’t been writing in a long time since college kind of sucked the life out of me for five years; however, I’ve been having a lot of personal issues arise lately and I find this as a coping mechanism (especially with my job/boss). ps - im sick D:

Shout-out to @tinny-tin, @lloyd-g, and @stiles-derpinski for being awesome and wanting to see my work.

All I see is red and blue. Everywhere. This kid is going to end up giving me a heart attack. It’s a Wednesday night and usually Peter is coming home from band practice, but in the last six months I’ve seen nothing from this boy – no instruments, no science projects gone wrong, just nothing. I feel like I’m losing him all over again since Ben. That boy was Ben’s entire world let me tell you. The way he boasted about winning the regional science fair two years in a row to how Peter was selected for Midtown’s academic bowl, his eyes glistened with tears of joy. It was as if Peter was his son this entire time.

Tonight, I lie awake worrying about this boy like I usually do. It was taco night since yesterday I saw no trace of him until he got up today to get to school. But like Ben, Peter would never voice what was rattling in his head…what kept him out all night. I always tell myself that I hope he’s talking to Ben somehow through all of this, for us. As I start to drift away from following the news as background noise and beginning a new knitting project, I hear the back window crack just slightly. At this point, the creaks and leaks throughout this apartment don’t phase me, they just give the place character.

“Crap!”

“Who’s out there!?” I screamed. I am not the type to fight, but I was boiling over with the constant absences of Peter these past couple days. It’s like this kid doesn’t have a home. I grab my extra knitting needle and tuck it underneath my skirt. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone use one of these for self-defense in any crime show, but it’s worth a shot on being creative and terrified all at once. I hear the window squeak once more as I inch closer to my nephew’s room. One could easily shrug this off as the wind or an alley cat, but with all the horrible things happening in the neighborhood recently, I am not in any position to risk it. I place my hand by my hip, ready to grab the needle, and swing the door right open to a –

“AUNT MAY! Jesus! Put that thing down!”

“Peter! PETER!? Where the hell have you been?” I shouted. I hated yelling at my boy like this, but there was no other way to let it all out. “Y’know…I’ve made dinner, did your laundry, even ironed your decathlon jacket, and not once have I even heard you say ‘thank you’. I’m getting so tired…so frustrated. Just tell me what’s going on. Please.” I sit on the edge of the bed ready to start crying. These tears have been busting to come out for the past two weeks and it was time to let out Niagara Falls.

“May…please…stop. Don’t cry.” Peter was the sweetest kid you could ever imagine. Have you ever seen those 60s commercials for baby food where the perfect child with the biggest eyes and soft, angelic curls just makes a mess with mashed peaches and greens? That was Peter. Most definitely my boy, but fast-forwarded 15 years. When he was born, I use to call him ‘PB’ for short – Peter Benjamin Parker. His newborn locks would just sit on the sides of his face, tempting you to push them behind those ears and make room for all that gushing. He was a good kid. A lovely little thing. I slowly drop the knitting needle to the floor and embrace Peter for a long-deserved hug.

“Aunt May, I can explain. I know I haven’t been home a lot and I swear, I’ll –”

“Peter, I know you’re lying.”

“May, I love you and I am so sorry. It’s just this internship means everything to me. I know I haven’t been open with everything that has been happening, but it’s some seriously awesome stuff you wouldn’t believe it! Like today at school, I found out that I can use the gravity formula from Mr. Watson’s physics homework to detect the angle in which the Iron-Man suit needs to be elevated to reach maximum speeds for flight! Like it was the coolest thing ever to even think of stuff like that. Oh, and –”

“Okay, okay. Enough Peter. I get it, you love what you do. But promise me something,” I took a deep breath before I can finish my sentence. “Just come home, please. We – erh, I mean ‘I’ – I miss you, honey.” It’s so hard to not include Ben in every little bit of Peter’s life. They were always together and I know in my heart he would be so proud. After calming down a bit, I noticed on the edge of Peter’s eyebrow some small bruising. It was fresh, at least within the last couple hours. I’ve gotten so use to this child getting beat up, I almost expect it. Last time he came home with a black eye, he mentioned a kid named Steve from Brooklyn. Not entirely sure what Peter would be doing over there so late at night…it took at least 30 minutes without traffic to even make it to the outskirts Prospect Park – Peter’s favorite place since he was a little one. Also, doesn’t Ned live 2 blocks from us? I cannot even begin to describe how many times I’ve seen Ned in the past week looking for Peter. It’s as if he’s forgotten about his best friend too.

           “I swear…every time I feel like I’m on to something and report back to Happy…I end up not being so happy…with myself”, I whispered. I shrug off my blue sweater throw my backpack in the corner. I think that was a first for me to even remember where I place my backpack nowadays. I didn’t do too much in the suit today; in fact, I didn’t even do anything at all. I swung around and helped an elderly man get his cat from inside a dumpster. Quite large. Very fluffy. Calico? I took a few photos of some pigeons. Oh, and escaped a near arrest yet again! I should try to be more careful when interacting with cops, but hey, it happens. A lot of what I’ve been doing since school’s been out hasn’t been all too much. I wouldn’t even try calling it “crime fighting”. I finally perfected my training wheels protocol for shooting web grenades down by Coney though! That was amazing on how precise my vision has become with the new suit…or Karen. Should I even call her Karen? Where did I even come up with the name for Karen? Anywho, from now on I’ll have to respect both suit and her.

           My reports have gotten a lot less action-ey if you could call it that. With all the focus on just utilizing the suit without Mr. Stark replacing the tracking system, I feel a bit lost honestly. Not much is happening now in the concrete jungle. Summer is practically gone. I can smell the new textbooks in my locker already and the musk of Midtown’s hallways by the main office. It’s as if the world knows who I really am now, especially now with Mr. Toomes in jail. I slip back on my mask and make sure the bedroom door is locked. May hates it when I lock the door, so I’ve developed a new habit of playing some of my cassettes when I’m home. She seems to be liking my taste recently. I made a recent shift to listening to classic rock when building Lego empires with Ned or doing homework. It replaces the need for me to talk everyone to death, including myself.

           “Hello, Peter. Lovely evening, isn’t it? What’s with the music?” Karen is quite charming when activated I must say.

           “Nothing, I just needed someone to talk to.”

           “Well…you got me. Would you like me to initiate night mode for you?” It’s gotten quite dark since I came back. My eyes usually dim to the size of a rice grain since the bite. It’s been harder to really keep focus too when I’m reading. “Sure! Thanks Karen! I don’t thank you enough really”, I replied. “So…Karen…what can you tell me about…emotions?” I had no idea where to start. Quite frankly, I am known for terrible first impressions. Most say I’m a world record holder in that.

           “Okay. According Webster’s dictionary, emotions are defined as an intuitive or instinctive mental state based on reason, recent events, or your surroundings.” She does this a lot, so I let her talk.

           “Alriiiiight. What can you tell me about falling in love?”

           “Is this about Liz? Go tell her, she would love to hear what you really feel about her.”

           “I –I can’t. You know I am the reason she’s moving to Oregon.” My eyes are beginning to water so much, it’s hard to really keep it from destroying the mask. Karen is known to start the vacuum inside to keep it dry. She’s like May 2.0 really. “I’m sorry Karen, I feel like I’m pushing everyone away with being Spider-Man. I know what I am and who I am, but I don’t know what I want. I know I want something outside of this Stark-universe. I want to be a normal teenager again.”

           “But you are, Peter.” She deactivated the vacuum so her AI voice resonates a bit clearer. “You’re showing your emotions right now and that is what makes you normal. It’s part of growing up.” My sobbing has mellowed out to that of a puppy huffing in it’s sleep.

           “You’re right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight Karen.” I peeled off the mask before I could even hear a response.

           “Goodnight Peter.”

[tebbyclinic11]

Trader Joe’s Newest Products in 2018, Reviewed

New Post has been published on http://kitchengadgetsreviews.com/trader-joes-newest-products-in-2018-reviewed/

Trader Joe’s Newest Products in 2018, Reviewed

amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "c8415-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "search"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_title = "Shop Related Products"; amzn_assoc_default_search_phrase = "cooking"; amzn_assoc_default_category = "Kitchen"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "51fe4d035c7af8dc5928e6f5e5b79c4e"; amzn_assoc_default_browse_node = "284507"; amzn_assoc_rows = "4"; amzn_assoc_design = "text_links";

Trader Joe’s has it all figured out. The new products, they just keep coming. We’re on a hare-brained mission to try every new product at TJ’s in 2018. Trying. A noble pursuit, a “good use of time,” “what is this, an ad?”, call it what you will. New this week—Valentines gummies, coconut clusters of fun, pretty good chicken sausage, and more.

Organic Oven Roasted Turkey Breast, $4.99These floppy shingles of roasted turkey are a lunch meat staple, though I’ve never tried to bind two pieces of paper with them. Instead, I roll them with sliced Swiss cheese and dip them in mustard like the grown adult person with an expired license I am. A subtle, roasted flavor elevates the turkey from its natural state of taste (soggy meat Kleenex) to a whisper of Thanksgiving leftovers. Good product. Reliable sandwich material. Real meat. Gluten-free. Protein. Precisely circular. Not salami.

Gummy Xs & Os, $2.99In time for Valentine’s Day, we have a big bag of gummies. The ”natural flavors” flavor reminds me of rosé–supposedly grapefruit, strawberry, and mixed berry—but they all blend together to me in the way you’re pretty sure gummy bears are different flavors for different colors but are they, really?? All I know is that the Xs taste better than Os. The big downside–sorry, gummy enthusiasts—is that the texture is too soft. Like that moment you’re making out with your Valentine and finally come to terms with the fact that he’s a body pillow named Ted. Gummies need a little bit of chew, some struggle, a reminder that it’s not gonna be easy all the time. A nice metaphor for love if you ask me.

Electric Buzz Coffee Cups, $5.49I drink coffee the old-fashioned way—by pouring off-boiling water into a filter directly in my mouth—so I enlisted a guest reviewer for these TJ branded K-cups that are supposedly EXTRA CAFFEINATED! “It’s no special cup of mud,” texted my friend Keith, a man who puts plastic cups in a machine expecting roasted bean juice to come out. BA’s Alex Delany described these coffee pods like he does beer, ridiculously: “It tastes like someone walked across your tongue with brand new dad sneakers on. Rubber soles.” Did he really need to offend all of dadkind like that? Probably yes.

Organic Sweet Italian Chicken Sausage, $5.99Like many chicken sausages, it tastes like chicken sausage. Throw in some garlic powder and basil particles and poof, Italian. Out of the package, they have a slimy smooth, bouncy hot dog texture because the casing has been removed. I don’t get how this works, but I‘ll try anything once. A sweet, kind cashier with a striking resemblance to my Uncle Manny (RIP) said he loves to make sausage and peppers with them, so that’s what I did. I mean, we’re practically family. The sausages are smaller side, more the size of Ball Park Franks, and crisp up in the pan as intended. Two people in my household ate the entire package of five links, dipping each bite in mustard and trying to find something more meaningful to say about something as mundane as chicken sausage. Notes of peppercorn tingle the tastebuds. Solidly Not Bad.

Coconut Sesame Seed Clusters, $1.99These are little shards that aren’t quite granola and yet aren’t anything else. Purgatory snacks! They’re crunchy pieces of toasted coconut covered in sesame seeds, sealed together with coconut sugar and tapioca syrup. Okay so they’re candy. Serving suggestions include: casually eating out of a hollowed coconut shell, on ice cream, but more likely, by the handful until you read the nutrition facts and realize the bag is empty but hey, at least they’re gluten-free? If this isn’t impulse purchase material, I don’t know what is.

Previously

The Week of January 22

Churro Bites, $2.49The only thing these churro bites share in common with hot-off-the-oil churros is a coating of cinnamon sugar. Other than that, these crunchy nuggets are their own category of cookie-chip. They have a near-velvet outer texture, the combination of shiny hardened butter and sandy sugar, like when you dropped a doughnut hole at the beach but ate it anyway, because seagulls. (Because you’re a monster). Sort of like giant Corn Pops, rolled cinnamon sugar. I won’t even begin to describe what they visually resemble (😺 💩). The cashier at TJ’s looked at the nutritional details and then slowly raised her eyes to mine. Me: “These are not good for you.” Her: “Then why are you buying two?”

Gluten Free Oat Cranberry Flaxseed Cookies, $2.99As a general life principle, you should never trust a cookie with more than three names. These gluten-free-oat-cranberry-flaxseed-cookies seem to think that they can trick us into believing they’re some kind of health food but we know, ohhhh we KNOW. These are cookies. With plenty of butter and sugar. Because of that, I have some great news: They taste like cookies! Like a very good grocery store oatmeal raisin cookie, with a surprisingly soft and chewy texture (I see you, molasses and rice flour.) They crumble a little, but then again who doesn’t in this current political climate? Still not sure what a flaxseed is, but I’m already starting to see definition in my abs.

Thai Green Curry Simmer Sauce, $1.99This so-called simmer sauce is the pale minty green of my grandmother’s bathroom walls, with much more flavor (and a lot less lead!). Even though a simple green curry is easy to make, at this price, it costs the same as just the can of coconut milk, and there’s Kaffir lime peel in here. It’s fragrant with lemongrass and ginger, and super creamy, a little sweet—overall, delicious. You cook some protein or veg, add the sauce, serve over noodles/rice. What does this sauce have in common with a certain presidential marriage? There’s absolutely no heat. BYO-chile if you need to spice it up.

Tahini, Pepita & Apricot Slaw Kit, $3.99Inside one plastic bag you get four more little plastic bags! It’s like a Russian nesting salad of environmental doom. Or something. The slaw is a combination of veggies from the aisle-land of misfit produce. Spiky broccoli stems. Faded carrots the color of construction cones abandoned by the highway. The curly split ends from a kale haircut. Cabbage. Unfortunately the dressing, a sweet honey tahini (try this one!), which is pretty good, can’t mask the musty taste of the veg. The pepita and apricot sprinkles are a nice idea, but like hoping the 14 throw pillows on your couch hide all of the cat hair, they can only do so much.

Previously

The Week of January 8

Photo by Chelsie Craig

Frosted Sugar Cookies, $2.99Trader Joe’s imitation of Lofthouse’s iconic packaged cookies is the best thing they’ve brought to the new year. The freakishly smooth, delightfully underbaked sugar cookie is topped with frosting and randomly distributed purple-pink sprinkles. Whoever was in charge of sprinkles appears to have sneezed them out, some gather along the edges, holding on for dear frosting life.

But they really did it. It’s mythic, and it dissolves into dust the second it touches your saliva. The minute you bite into it, you forget it was ever there. And it’s everything you’ve missed since the last time you had one, stoned at 10 p.m. in Kroger with your middle school friends who’ve all had babies on Facebook by now. It’s a cookie that will send you back in time, in memory, in a sugar-induced nostalgia nap.

Photo by Chelsie Craig

Cocoa Almond Cashew Beverage, $2.29Who doesn’t love a beverage? AKA the FDA-approved term for milks that aren’t milk. Remember milk? Pause to pour out some beverage in the memory of milk. Those days are over.

This incredibly silky not-milk is chocolaty and sweet, with a vaguely nutty aftertaste, like a burp after too many bar peanuts. The creamy texture, thanks to the beautiful food science that is locust bean gum and other emulsifiers, ends on a near slimy note, reminiscent of the inside of the cardboard chocolate milk carton. It would be nice in a banana smoothie, heated as faux cocoa, mixed into iced coffee, or given as a bribe to children who have never known the cult of cow.

Photo by Chelsie Craig

Italian Marinara Sauce with Barolo Wine, $3.49Have you ever spooned straight marinara sauce into your mouth? It’s acidic and sweet, smooth save for the little toenails of tomato skin here and there. The saltiness left my chapped lips burning and tingling, like I’d exfoliated them with French fries. The addition of Barolo seems to say, “I know wines other than red,” while the black-and-gold Deco packaging suggests a Gatsby-themed party at the Olive Garden. It tasted like pretty good pizza sauce. Sign me up.

Organic Fruit and Seed Granola, $3.69These little clusters of organic seeds, held together by plasticky tasting tapioca syrup, are nuggets of health. I think. No pesky oats here, just seed bombs that I imagine are only slightly larger than what well-fed pigeons expel. The sharp and crunchy texture is appealing to parents who bring healthy snacks to the movies. They’re also the perfect snack for mindful eaters, as you will mindfully spend every bite doing tongue yoga to get chia seeds out of your molar fillings from the 90s. There are surprise bites of sweetened dried cranberries that will make you exclaim, “SUGAR, for MEEEE?” Somehow you will eat the whole bag.

Stay tuned for more, next week.

amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_search_bar = "true"; amzn_assoc_search_bar_position = "bottom"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "c8415-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "search"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_title = "Shop Related Products"; amzn_assoc_default_search_phrase = "cookware"; amzn_assoc_default_category = "All"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "b45319dac495d29e17b5eff312392025"; Source link