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1
“Yibo?” Yixuan’s low voice hit his ears and he froze in place, holding his breath. “Yibo, were you crying?”
He didn’t bother responding. How was he supposed to explain that he missed home? He was already sixteen, already debuted, already kind of famous and living the dream. He shouldn’t be having these feelings.
“Didi?” Yixuan asked again, his voice gentler and his warmth joining Yibo on the couch. Hands ran across his shoulders and down his arms and he leaned into the comfort. “Let’s go to the kitchen, okay? We’ll get you some water and maybe a snack.”
A crumpled mass of tissues was passed into his hand. A glass of water was quickly set on the table in front of him. For a few minutes as Yixuan puttered around the kitchen, Yibo focused his attention on stopping his sobs and tears.
Yixuan soon placed a bamboo steamer on the plate in front of him.
“We bought a pack of these for your birthday, but I don’t think the boys will be morose if I let you have a few of them early.”
Yibo sniffed, wiped his face dry with the tissues clutched in his hand, and opened the bamboo strainer.
Five xiaolongbao, sitting perfectly atop a sheet of wax paper. They were the nice ones from the shop fifteen minutes away from the dorm that sold pre-made frozen dumplings. They all loved them dearly but rarely bought them because they were so bad for their strict diets. And they were also expensive as hell—two deadly factors that made them a rare indulgence for up-and-coming idols like them.
The sight made Yibo want to cry all over again.
“Just don’t tell Ilkyu-hyung or the coaches— Ai, Yibo-didi? Why are you crying again?!”
It was terribly sweet and so heartwarming. They always went to the restaurant after successful performances or to celebrate birthdays; after a while, eating the xiaolongbao just felt like pure comfort and victory. For his brothers to care enough to surprise him, to save up the money and resist the temptation of cooking the dumplings prematurely, for Yixuan to cook them early just because Yibo felt a little homesick?
“Th-thank you, Ge— I’m sorry I’m so—“
“Aiyo, you’re still young, you have to cry it all out while you can still get away with it,” Yixuan teased, hopelessly ruffling up his hair. But they both knew Yibo would forever be indulged as the youngest of them, no matter how old they all got. “I know you miss home, Didi. We all do.”
But his brothers were starting to feel a little like home as well.
2
“Where is Sungjoo-hyung?” Yibo asked, coming into his and Seungyoun’s room after an unsuccessful mission to find their second-oldest brother.
“I think he went out to meet his brother? He might’ve mentioned a graduation a little while ago.”
Oh, right. Sungjoo probably mentioned that he would be out as well, but those sorts of things just tended to slip Yibo’s mind.
“Ah.” Yibo pouted. “I forgot he has a brother. He’s lucky his family lives nearby and he gets to see them often.”
Seungyoun put down the pile of clothes he was folding and raised an eyebrow at Yibo. “Are you jealous of Sungjoo-hyung for having an older brother? When you have four older brothers you live with.”
“I’m not jealous—”
“Our little maknae! Baby Yibo!” Seungyoun crowed, tackling Yibo into the pile of clothes on the bed.
“You’re so annoying!” Yibo complained and laid hits and punches on Seungyoun’s body anywhere he could reach. “Get off me! You’re heavy!”
“Ouch! You little—“
“Stop it!”
“Xuan-ge, the twins are fighting again!” Wenhan—the tattling little snitch—yelled out the open doorway in Mandarin. When had he even crept into the room?
“Li Wenhan!” Seungyoun jumped off the bed and brandished a thick pillow as a weapon. He began to stalk towards the door and with every step, Wenhan’s smug smile dropped more and more off his face.
“Stay away from me.”
“Wenhan-ge. Hyung~”
Seungyoun’s voice was sickly sweet. Wenhan broke into a dead sprint, disappearing around the doorframe as Seungyoun took off after him. Yibo sat up on the bed, giggled, and listened to the chaos of his older brothers chasing one another around their tiny dorm. Yixuan was trying to get them to stop to no avail, like a sleep-deprived parent trying to prevent his kids from jumping on the bed early in the morning.
Yibo was an only child, and had three cousins that lived in different provinces. He rarely ever saw them and his house was fairly quiet growing up. Not to mention the fact that he moved out so young. Was this what having brothers or cousins was like? Was this what a big household sounded like?
Yibo could get used to it.
3
“You really didn’t have to come, you know. Flying is such a pain these days.”
“Mama, it’s only a two hour flight to Beijing from Incheon, the flight’s barely a hassle.” He sidled up to her side and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “And I wanted to surprise you for once. I’ll be here for four days. Happy birthday.”
“Aiyo, Yibo.” She reaches up to press a cool hand to his cheek, pinching the flesh there endearingly. “Thank you. Go to your room and make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon.”
“Ma, why are you cooking on your birthday?!”
“Shut up! Let me do what I want on my birthday!”
Mama’s cooking was as spectacular as always. She made some of Yibo’s favorite dishes and he’d missed the taste of whatever secret ingredient she put in everything to make it all the best food he’d ever tasted.
But when he curled up in his childhood bed, he found himself unable to sleep. He couldn’t even really close his eyes. It was too quiet, too dark, and everything smelled wrong. He couldn’t hear Seungyoun breathing next to him or the low grumble of conversation in an adjacent room. He couldn’t feel the warmth of another body beside him or the tugging of the sheets whenever his companion shifted (Seungyoun was unsurprisingly a fussy sleeper). He couldn’t smell the damned lavender fabric softener that Sungjoo was hell-bent on always using for their laundry. Even the temperature of the room felt a little off.
He just couldn’t relax enough to sleep.
At just past midnight, Yibo realized that he missed his brothers. It was nice to be home and sleeping in the bed he grew up in, but he barely fit in it anymore. The room smelled stale and vaguely of dust. It had been almost three years since he left Luoyang for the dream that lay in South Korea. It had been almost three years since he last stayed at home for more than a day or so.
He wondered why he longed to be back in Seoul, in the tiny dorm that smelled like feet and sweat with loud neighbors and shitty food and even shittier air conditioning. He wondered why he wished to return there when he was already “home”.
4
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” Yibo apologized for the millionth time. He still had wig glue on his forehead and he probably looked like death incarnate now that most of his makeup had been wiped off but he hoped his voice carried enough sincerity to make up for what he was lacking in aegyo at the moment.
“Don’t worry about it,” Wang Han said, also for the millionth time. “You’re busy, maybe the busiest out of all of us right now.”
“It must be hard being a superstar!” someone exclaimed from out of the frame.
“I still wish I could film with you. This week’s segment seemed like a lot of fun.”
He’d mostly been upset at the fact that he couldn’t be present. His schedule was packed but DDU was part of the reason he’d gotten so many job opportunities recently and he hated that he couldn’t even repay the fact by being there for the scheduled filming dates. Changsha was just so far away from everything else he had to film at the time, and the schedules that week were unforgiving.
His brothers were understanding, but Yibo was hell-bent on making sure his absence would not become a habit.
“It was a lot of fun. It would’ve been more fun if you were there.”
And Yibo would’ve had a lot of fun, too. He was much younger than the other brothers, enough so that they doted on him endlessly and honestly treated him more like a son (especially in Wang Han’s case). It was never a dull moment with them, and getting to see them was always a highlight in his week.
“I miss you all,” he said candidly.
“We miss you too, Yibo. Come back home soon.”
5
“Laoban, we’re here.”
The van eased to a stop right in front of CQL’s parking lot on set, and Yibo collected his things and unplugged his phone from the charging port.
“How long am I here this time?”
“Two days. Then you’re off to Hangzhou for Produce 101.”
His schedule was getting busier and busier by the week. Yibo didn’t know whether to be grateful or a little bitter about it. Less time to rest, more traveling, less free time. But also: more money, more exposure, more stability.
“Okay.”
It was all he could say at the moment.
As soon as he stepped out of the van, he was reminded exactly why his manager handed him a giant iced coffee despite being “on a diet”. The heat was immediately overwhelming, making him uncomfortably sticky despite wearing a light t-shirt and basketball shorts.
Sometimes it was miserable here, with the mosquitos and the heat and humidity. With the long wigs and long skirts and layers upon layers of clothes. At least he wasn’t wearing black like Xiao Zhan. With Yibo’s fragile disposition, he might’ve had a heatstroke.
But there was something comforting about coming back to this place. The staff treated him kindly, the other cast mates knew him well. The trees provided shade from the worst of the sun and the night breeze cooled and calmed as it swept over the set.
He greeted the stylist-jies as he stepped into the tent, which thankfully had a small AC unit in the corner blasting them all with sweet relief. His wig was installed. Then his makeup. Then he changed into the costume and put his heels on.
When he finally stepped outside the tent, the heat was even more imposing than before, under all the fabric and hair and makeup. But then he spotted a familiar black and red ensemble dancing around in front of some of the cameras, holding a portable fan and chatting with the other cast members.
The heat immediately dropped on Yibo’s list of priorities. He didn’t mind it all too much, being here.
“Wang Yibo!” Xiao Zhan’s voice called out as soon as he caught his eye. “Welcome home!”
He grinned back, carefully stepping over tree branches and loose rocks with his white skirts hiked up to prevent getting any dirt on them. “I’m home.”
+1
Yibo got into the van and immediately called Xiao Zhan, who had been waiting for his call since the moment he landed in Beijing.
“Vacation time, here I come! I’m actually so excited.”
Chuckling, Yibo tucked the phone under his chin as he began rummaging through his backpack for the gift he had bought for Xiao Zhan on his way back from Changsha.
“Where are you?”
“I’m home!”
Yibo froze in place, a mental bluescreen paralyzing all his mental faculties. Xiao Zhan… wasn’t in Beijing? Yibo had come back to Beijing for a few days and rushed a couple schedules just so they could be in the same city at the same time. He’d made plans so they could spend some time together. All because he thought—
“You’re in Chongqing?! What the fuck, I thought you were here in Beijing? You didn’t tell me you were going to spend your days off back—”
“No, no! Yibo— I meant I’m at your apartment. Here in Beijing. You gave me a key so I let myself in while you were on your flight… I hope that’s okay.”
Yibo let out a deep breath. Home, Xiao Zhan had called it. He didn’t live there, he didn’t pay rent, he barely even slept over. But he still called it that. Why did it make Yibo feel so warm inside?
“Yeah, yes that’s— That’s why I gave it to you in the first place. Come over whenever you like, even if I’m not there.”
“I’m definitely going to abuse that. Everything here smells like you and I love it.”
The giggle Yibo let out was definitely a little too airy and most likely gave away his emotions. Xiao Zhan was too damn sweet, he could hardly handle it sometimes.
“Zhan-ge! I barely even spend any time there. How can it smell like me?”
“It just does. Hurry home, Wang Yibo. The bed is looking very alluring and I don’t know how much longer I can resist.”
There was that word again. Home. How could Xiao Zhan throw that word around so easily? For Yibo, who’d been practically nomadic since he turned fifteen, that word meant much more than it probably did to other people. Home wasn’t what you called an apartment where you slept in once a week at best.
“Sure, sure. I’ll see you soon.”
Yibo hung up, asking Lele how much longer they had left of the drive. He could barely sit still. After all, he had someone waiting for him.
That was when Yibo realized. Home didn’t have to be a place. Sure, it could be. Sometimes he found himself longing for the rickety childhood bed he grew up in. Sometimes he’ll pass by a laundromat and catch the smell of freshly-laundered blankets from his UNIQ dorm. Sometimes he’ll taste food and wonder if his mother was the one cooking in the kitchen and be transported to Spring Festivals growing up with mountains of food on the table between them.
Home could also be a person. Mama and Baba. The UNIQ hyungs and geges. His DDU brothers. Xiao Zhan.
Yibo couldn’t wait to go home.