(no subject)

[fengkuang]

[ it is less of a meeting and more of a collision between two bodies in the middle of the engineering quad thanks to the optimal angle of the sun and the fact that, for once, Xue Yang was not hyper-aware of his surroundings. usually, the engineer knows where every person in a ten-meter radius is, what they are doing, and how likely it is that they will start shit with him if he so much as looks at them the wrong way (or maybe, how likely it is that they will react when he starts shit with them for looking at him the wrong way, but semantics), but that day--

that day Xue Yang was sure that he figured out how to bypass the energy intake issue with the engine idea he was toying with in his off time and he just wanted to get to a lab to run the simulations goddamnit, so paying attention to the soft-looking boy in pastels wasn't high on his list. should have been, but-- maybe it was for the better that it wasn't because it means that Xue Yang knocks into him, the two of them twisting from the force of it, some papers and his phone scattered on the ground and a snarl on his lips. a snarl that quiets with how sorry the other is for the whole thing (never mind that it was Xue Yang that certainly ran into him), and the way he smiled at Xue Yang despite his well-known temper and less than pristine reputation.

it was a really fucking gorgeous smile okay, leave him alone, he is weak to things of beauty.

needless to say, Xue Yang goes from snarling to confused to something like enamoured in the space of the five minutes it takes to gather up Xiao Xingchen's papers and forcibly put himself in the other's phone so that he could 'take him out for tea' to make up for the whole incident.

Xue Yang completely forgot about the intake issue.

then again, being able to meet up with Xingchen for tea (for Xingchen, a terribly sweet concoction that is more sugar than coffee for himself) and see that smile directed at him in close quarters more than made up for any advancements in the field if you asked him. (no one would dare ask him, but like, if they did--). it has been all of two weeks since the collision and Xue Yang, dare anyone mention it, seemed almost tolerable to be around. his temper was slower to ignite, his proverbial claws a little less likely to aim where it hurt the most when his temper was provoked.

Xiao Xingchen, it seemed, was some kind of god because what he was able to do was nothing short of miraculous.

exhibit a) Xue Yang laying down, an actual smile on his face (a quietly pleased thing that was almost soft in its edges, not the sharp thing full of teeth that he often bares) in the sun-warmed grass on the hill overlooking the administration buildings, and actively listening to whatever story it is that Xingchen happens to be telling him despite the open lab time that was available to him.

exhibit b) Xue Yang sitting in the library quietly with something that wasn't 90% sugar to drink, quietly muttering about how his groupmates were fucking useless but not actually physically doing anything about it except complain.

exhibit c) Xue Yang turning away from taunts about his less than savoury past and pity scholarship into the school because 'he couldn't be late' to help Xingchen take homemade dog cookies to the shelter down the road from the university.

exhibit-- well you get the point.

today finds him sleep-deprived and softer around the edges as he lingers in Xingchen's dorm, hair a mess from running his fingers through it time and time again trying to fix some problems in his schematics. they did this often enough, got together to study (or complain, or for Xue Yang to look like some kind of smitten idiot) and more often than not sit and watch at least three episodes of some ridiculous drama together, that Xue Yang was starting to feel something warm settle in his marrow when he arrived.

with a hissing noise, Xue Yang snaps his laptop shut (he hopes the thing doesn't break, he cannot afford a new one, well-- can't legally afford a new one but that was something else entirely) and all but throws himself backwards against the tangle of blankets that are there.]

If I kill my professor, you'll bail me out right?