AN: Another chapter! We're almost there!

In response to Magentacrazedgirl8's question 'Why won't Ivan smile?': Thanks for the review! And that's a very good question lol. The reason why Ivan couldn't smile wasn't because he didn't want to. It was because even if he did smile, his true feelings wouldn't get across to Yao. Now in front of the public (his fans, his team, his competitor, basically the whole world), he always wore a smile. This was not a genuine smile. But in front of Yao, his smile disappeared because that was his true self. He didn't know why this Chinese man seemed so intriguing to him; he was confused and looked for answers. Back there, he couldn't smile because Yao meant more to him than his usual forced smile. But if he didn't smile then Yao would think he meant even less to him than strangers. So he kissed Yao instead. Yao probably misunderstood it. Lol, also it's kinda awkward to smile when someone is telling you to do that isn't it? That was only the beginning of their relationship, so they had a lot of miscommunication and missed opportunities. I hope that answered your question :D

This story is composed of a lot of metaphors and implicit ideas that are not explained straightforwardly. So if you are in any way confused about something or is looking for clarification, feel free to ask!

We drove fast and died young.

Crashing into the gray smoke, I rode into the eternal sunset.

All alone in this ride, my only wish was for my man to be by my side.

What is love but insignificant moments that bind two people together? What is love but the familiarization of each other through the passage of time? Although there lives within the very flame of love a kind of wick or snuff that will abate it*, maybe companionship is all there really is to this long and windy road called life.

Shoes littered the front entrance creating their own bed of dusty mud. They lay not in pairs but often far apart, kicked off in random directions the second they were no longer required. Boots, sneakers, oxfords, and other kind of shoes in two distinct sizes were spread out on the white marble floor in a disorganized manner. This scene was only occasionally cleaned up when guests, namely his manager or the housekeeper, came for visits. Unwashed dishes were stacked high in the kitchen sink, waiting for the time of the day when they would be utilized again. However there was always the option of ordering Chinese food. On the white leather couch, a thick winter jacket was tossed impetuously onto the costly material giving the once pristine furniture a homely look. A pot of sunflower stood stiffly in the corner of the living room, but despite of its awkwardness, it was obvious that it was well beloved. If it wasn't, it would have wilted long ago. The bathroom was situated on the right side of the living room. Gleaming granite counter tops glistened beneath walnut framed mirrors, yet long black hairs could be seen dispersed around the counter. A Jacuzzi tub by the side of the wall appeared spotless at first glance, however upon closer inspection suspicious stains could be seen that suggested wild nights and crazy schemes. Water dripped from the over-sized shower head in the walk-in shower room. Drip. Drip. Drip. With each fall of a single sphere of water it seemed to get louder. Each time it hit the ground the sound would linger, almost as if it was frozen in the air for a split second.

Across from the bathroom, one could enter directly into the bedroom, and there two men could be spotted on the bed.

Ivan sat on the furthest end of the bed with both hands in his lap. He was already dressed for the day, yet he was reluctant to leave the comfort of his soft mattress.

"What are you doing Yao?" he asked. His eyes glancing at the man leaning against both of their pillows with his legs crossed, toes curling in silk sheets. He was wearing a white collar shirt, which Ivan was positive was his, that hugged his body like an oversized blanket. With the first three slots unbuttoned, the shirt revealed his razor-sharp collarbones and half of his shoulders. He was undoubtedly petite compared to Ivan, yet the racer knew he was not in any way fragile or weaker than him. This was proved on many nights where they decided to try something different. The Chinese man was deeply engrossed in the magazine in his hands, eyes never straying from the page, fingers playing with the edge of the paper. Oh yes, one more thing. He wasn't wearing pants.

"I'm looking at you," Yao said sincerely. He never raised his eyes up.

"No you're not," Ivan said. "You're too busy looking at whatever, or whoever that is on that stupid magazine."

"Someone's jealous." Not at all affected by Ivan's words, Yao continued to skim through the lines. "But Vanya…" Ivan tensed up at his pet name. "I really wasn't joking when I said I was looking at you."

He suppressed a chuckle and threw that magazine at the person on the other side of the bed. Ivan caught it effortlessly and as he glanced at what had captured Yao's attention his face flamed up. He avoided eye contact with Yao because the loud laughter was enough for his humiliation. On the glossy page of the magazine titled 12 questions with NASCAR superstar Ivan Braginsky, his own face stared right back at him.

Yao savored in his blushing face and continued to laugh. "You're hilarious you know that? What is an errand or chore that you do in your daily life? Oh I do my own laundry." He mimicked mockingly. "Ha! Such a natural liar, I can't believe you said it with a straight face!" Uncrossing his legs and swaying them casually, he rolled his head back in laughter.

"Yao-" Ivan bit on his fingernail as the taint in his cheeks refused to diminish.

"Oh wait! Here's another good one!" Yao snickered gleefully. "What is the most important quality you look for in future partners? Well I love women who are kindhearted and family-orient- Aghh Ivan!"

Ivan didn't wait for him to finish his impersonation as he grabbed both of Yao's ankles and pulled him fiercely down on the bed, wrinkling the bed sheets in the process. Yao hastily tugged on the bottom of the shirt to cover up his manhood as he was suddenly being hauled like a sack of potatoes.

"Aiyah Ivan stop being so childish," he complained, however his laughter didn't stop. "Let go of my legs." Both of his legs straight up in the air with a pair of unyielding hands holding them by the ankles, Yao eyed him amusingly. Then it was as if he thought of some wicked plan, he yanked his foot off from Ivan's clasp and lightly kicked him in the face. The palm of his foot rubbed Ivan's cheek teasingly, his toes grazing his nose, nudging his smooth complexion. Yet to Yao's utter surprise, Ivan retrieved his hold on his ankle and pressed his lips down on that mischievous foot. Like a dew freckled petal caught in a breeze, so soft with the smallest hint of coolness, his lips moved from his big toe to the heel of his foot.

"Yao…" he cooed between the raindrop-like kisses.

Still pulling on the bottom of his shirt, Yao stiffened a giggle at his affectionate display. "I didn't know you had a foot fetish," he taunted him good-humoredly.

"I'll mention that next time during my interview," said Ivan, his eyes shimmering in a rich hue. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and let it tickle his sensitive flesh, evoking a high-pitched whine from the man lounging on the bed.

"Okay okay okay!" Yao admitted defeat as his words tumbled out speedily. "You win alright? There, now let go of me." His legs pretended to struggle from Ivan's stubborn grip. Then, almost intentionally Ivan let go of his hold on Yao's legs and two long limbs fell down on his sides.

Now in a position where his legs were spread apart with Ivan in the center, Yao glared at him warningly. "Ivan..." he began ominously. "I'm going to be late for work if you intend on keeping me up past nine."

"Yao," he said in equal dreadfulness. "If you were serious about going to work today you would already be out half an hour ago. Not to mention about your… choice of attire. You know how much I like seeing you in my clothes." He wiggled his hips slightly so that his loin faced directly against Yao's entrance.

"Don't flatter yourself," he smiled coolly. "Do you even know how many good shirts of mine you destroyed in the past months? I'm not taking that chance again."

He wasn't lying exactly. But there was also truth in what Ivan said about his enthusiasm for work. He could afford to be a little late today since his project was finished early. Staying in bed with the Russian seemed to be a much better option compared to sitting in front of his computer staring at numbers and symbols. Despite of studying and working with these manmade figures all his life, he never understood them. While some saw indications of truth and the universe in them, to Yao they were always ink blots on textbooks. He read them, memorized them, and understood them enough for his exams and job, but he never truly saw them. His smile subsided as he reflected on the wasted years for a wasted life. He wrapped his legs around Ivan, and directed his attention on the ceiling above.

Massaging Yao's thighs with his calloused fingers calmingly, Ivan observed him in silence.

The wind blowing past their window had lost it bite. It had become ambient, congenial, blowing branches and tousling the hair of pedestrians - but no longer stealing their warmth. Spring had quietly arrived with tight green buds and puddles of rain.

"Can I ask you something?"

There were still sprinkles of casualness in his tone, smears of nonchalance that served to hide its importance. Yao kept his eyes focused on the grey ceiling devoid of any imperfections. His lips parted and closed. Then they opened once more.

"Do you…" he stopped as if he saw a phantom within those walls. If he did, then it must have whispered secrets to him because his mouth stretched into a faint smile. "Let's go out Ivan Braginsky."

Chuckling slightly now that the weight had been lifted off him, he stopped his amour with the ceiling and lowered his fixation on Ivan. He continued, "Go out with me…please. Be my boyfriend."

It was a question long overdue. It wasn't asked as a grand proposal with roses and an elaborate arrangement. It wasn't asked before they jumped into bed and exchanged bodily fluids. It wasn't like the movies with fireworks in the background, and they were no Romeo and Juliet.

They were simply two men who had gotten used to each other. Be it flesh or presence, time had trickled by with a single drop followed by another, until it had accumulated to an ocean of desire.

"Please…" Yao mumbled softly. His smile remained his shield.

Ivan's hands stopped in its circular motion above his thighs. Yao chewed on his lips as the fingernails dug harshly into his thin layer of skin covering blood and bones. The Slavic man didn't speak for a long time, before something truly miraculous happened. He laughed.

Now it wasn't as if Yao had never seen him laugh before, but it was rare. The racer's range of emotions in the bedroom was limited and constrained. Although they couldn't be more familiar with each other's bodies, their facial expressions usually resided on two ends of a scale, full-blown euphoria, and hushed appreciation.

"What's so funny," Yao inquired whiningly. Unbeknownst to him, he had started laughing too. There was something comical about their situation. With only a white shirt on his body, his legs snaked around a fully-dressed man's waist, and a question that sounded like it came straight from a high school drama, the only response was to burst into laughter.

"Oh Yao-Yao," Ivan attempted to catch his breath which amounted to little success. From deep inside his chest came a great shaking motion and his face muscles grew tight. Wiping the corner of his eye, he said, "What did you think we were doing before? Huh? We live together!"

"But you never made it clear-"

"Yao," he interrupted, his tone became more serious. "I thought I was your boyfriend before you even asked that question."

He recognized a trace of uncertainty when he uttered the word 'boyfriend' and he knew it was the first time either one of them had confirmed their relations to one another. Despite of Ivan's words, Yao noticed the change in his eyes and the growing heat on his cheeks.

"Really," Yao smiled innocently; his knee cap started grinding into Ivan's side. He slowly pushed himself even further down on the bed, onto Ivan, and clasped his legs shut with Ivan in the middle. "Really?" he repeated.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Ivan tried to ignore his provocations, yet the extending pressure exerted on Yao caused the Chinese man to smile even wider, his legs tighter.

"Only on our first night when you said you weren't interested in me," he reminisced fondly.

"But I wasn't interested." As more blood rushed to his lower region, the urge to take him down right there and then became stronger.

"Aw," Yao put on a pained face. "What caused the change of heart then?" he asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Ivan didn't reply. Instead he loosened his tie and took off his constricting suit.

This had become more than just a one-night stand. Perhaps they were still clueless about what exactly their relationship entailed. Maybe the bleakness of their future didn't change from a single question, yet for better or worse, they were willing to make room in their hearts.

"I don't know," he lied. "But I think we could be doing something more productive than talking this morning."

"Aren't you tired from yesterday night?"

"Nyet," he had slipped into his mother tongue, but they had been together long enough for Yao to know what it meant.

"What if one day you get bored of me?" Yao resumed in his assault of questions.

"I won't."

His mouth answered before his brain had time to process his own response. Back then, he didn't know if he meant it or not. But the glow in Yao's eyes upon hearing these words made him glad it wasn't another unspoken moment between them where they had to decipher each other's silence. Who knows if his answer came from the heart or random impulsion; who could confirm that his promise would withstand the testimony of time. But for now, it was enough for the two of them.

Yao was never good at discerning between lies and truth. He knew that better than anyone. Yet he chose to let himself believe…One more time.

"You don't think they would mind if I call in sick later do you?" Yao grinned at him wickedly.

"No your absence would only affect me."

"Your answers are getting better," Yao hummed with a sedative quality in his remark. Grabbing Ivan by his collar, he pulled him down on the bed.

Something never changed.

The sound of their lovemaking concealed the pitter-patter of rainfall. It knocked on their window, but no one replied.

Ivan Braginsky never had a boyfriend. Well he never had a lover period. Ever since he could remember, his entire life's milestones were categorized into successes and failures. Needless to say failure was met with punishments. Physical when he was younger, but it had transformed into the bitter taste of disgrace once he became taller than his father. He hated losing more than anything, despised the fact that people could be better than him when he knew that he worked twice as much as them. On his ninth birthday, his father brought him to an amusement park where he rode in one of those bumper cars. In his memory, he could only recall his father ever smiling at him on that day. Cars became his passion. His motivation. His fire. His reason to live. It was only when he was sitting in the driver's seat with his hands on the wheels that he felt free. But despite of his best efforts, he was never able to soar beyond the finish line. There were always places for improvements, or in another words, places of mistakes and errors. You see, his passion did not allow him for anything, or anyone, to enter his heart. The people that climbed on the same bed as him simply functioned as release for sexual frustration. His third hand.

He didn't care to remember their faces. He never asked for their names.

Well that was until his one night stand with a stranger, who was now his current boyfriend.

Boyfriend… that still sounded funny to him. Like a misplaced puzzle shoved clumsily to fit the unmatched space, this simile could describe more than one aspect of their relationship. The more time he spent with this strange man, the more he wondered about himself.

Sure he liked women; there was always something to grab onto. And yes, he occasionally went for men who were willing to raise their arse at him. Heck he had been with men who were a lot more stereotypically attractive than his current boyfriend, but it was Yao Wang who captured his heart. Okay, that sounded incredibly cheesy for his masculine pride. How about…it was Yao Wang who made him stay for one more night. Ah much better.

At first the Chinese man wasn't much a looker. He was great at sex, knew all the tricks in the book, all the right places to touch, and a vast collection of moans to get him aroused. But he definitely wasn't a beauty. Too thin to be manly and not feminine enough to be perceived as a girly man; he simply looked out of place. According to his manager Natalya, he couldn't have picked a more average-looking man as his boyfriend. But perhaps of time, or his declining eye-sight, Yao appeared more and more appealing every day. From the second he woke up to the moment he fell asleep, his face was the first thing he saw. He didn't remember when he started to make a habit of observing him quietly, and he certainly didn't know why he received joy in memorizing the details that make up his facial structure. However the longer they spent with each other, the more he realized it was fruitless to deny his fascination.

Every little action was caught by his eyes. He tapped his fingers in intervals of three when he was anxious, in intervals of two when he was bored; he often brought his thumb to his lips when he wanted to say something but stayed silent; he cooked with his left hand, yet wrote with his right hand; he sucked in his stomach whenever he was nervous; and the list went on. Ivan was convinced he knew about Yao more than Yao knew about himself. But his smile still remained a mystery.

It meant everything and nothing at all.

Although Yao never liked talking about himself, with time Ivan eventually found out a little about the man whom he had lived with for almost three years now. Yao was the oldest of his family yet he never mentioned his siblings on his own and never visited his family even during New Year celebrations. When Ivan inquired, Yao simply smiled and said it was rude to go without an invitation. So he asked him to teach him how to make dumplings; however as fate would have it, Yao knew just as much about making dumplings as Ivan, and by the end of the night they had plates of what resembled third graders' art projects. At least they had a good laugh out of it.

Ivan also learned about what exactly Yao did during the time when they were not tossing and turning around in bed. He asked him about his job and Yao told him to guess. He replied 'pornstar' and the next thing he remembered was a pillow smacking his face. It turned out that Yao was a computer engineer at a software company. At times when Yao had to stay up for a whole night to finish his work, Ivan felt his heart wringed staring at the lone back of the man typing away at his computer. He tried to stay awake to accompany him yet he always drifted off to sleep… in the morning he woke up tucked inside his bed and the Chinese man was nowhere to be seen.

Yao Wang.

His name rolled off his tongue like a marble rolling around the floor. It tasted like sweet lemonade on a hot, sunny day. Ivan had fallen for him. It was a slow and steady fall down the rabbit hole and eventually he reached the bottom.

He loved him.

Even for a person who never experienced love before, he knew he loved him.

But he feared that he loved him more than Yao loved him back. In fact he didn't know if Yao loved him at all.

After all he only said those three little words like they meant nothing to him.

Panting harshly with sweat dripping down his body, Ivan stopped Yao's long awaited release with his thumb. "Say you love me," he said in a husky voice.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! ARGHHH~ IVAN LET GO!"

"Say you love me," he persisted tenaciously, reaching his own limit too.

"OH MY FUC- YES IVAN I LOVE YOU! OKAY I LOVE YOU!"

Then he removed his thumb and let Yao's seeds rain down upon his torso.

Now you see Ivan's predicament?

Even when it was not forced out of Yao, the times he muttered those words were with so little passion that it sounded like he was talking about the weather. No matter how many times Ivan tried to make Yao voice what he so desperately wanted to hear, every single time it sounded like a joke. Or a lie.

Despite of his smiles, Ivan thought Yao was a cold man. He could be charming, seductive, and playful, but outside the bedroom Ivan saw a dispassionate man.

Eleven o'clock morphed into twelve and then one. The time trickled by, marked only by those changing, growing numerals. Ivan yawned wearily as his mind pondered on all those years that went by; where there should be dreams was a heavy reflection. Tilting his head to look at the man sleeping next to him, he softly placed his hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Yao," he whispered cautiously. Wanting to wake him, but reluctant to interrupt his slumber at the same time.

"What…" Yao begrudgingly grumbled.

"Are you asleep?"

"Not anymore…"

Ivan chuckled as he imagined the scowl on Yao's face. He said, "I love you Yao."

"Hmm…"

"I really do," he pressed. "I really love you."

"Go to sleep," Yao groaned and turned his body away from Ivan, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder.

Ivan looked at him wordlessly. In his quiet solitude, he seemed to accept Yao's lack of reciprocation. Shifting closer to him, he rested his chin on his shoulder and slung his arm over Yao. To his surprise, Yao grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together.

That night Ivan dreamt of fast cars and an interrupted dazzling scarlet that stretched seamlessly across the open road.

Up the avenue, at Ninety-First Street, there stood a small café that welcomed New Yorkers from their busy lives into a moment of tranquility. Well it was more of an English tea shop really. They served tea in real white china pots at round tables that mostly just seated two people. At the glass-fronted counter was an array of cream cakes and pastries, all with English sounding names, and of course there were the obligatory scones. Arthur Kirkland was fond of the little place that reminded him of his grandmother's house; even though he was born and raised in New York, he felt he was a gentleman at heart. He had ordered cream tea with Earl Grey and sat there waited for an old friend to arrive. The bells rang as another customer entered. Arthur raised his thick knitted brows and smiled at the newcomer.

"Over here," he called out, waving the man over.

The man excused himself as he squeezed through old women and the long lineup at the counter before making his way to the table at the furthest corner of the shop.

"Why do you always like sitting at the corner Arthur? Even in high school you would choose the most isolated area," the man said as he proceeded to take his seat.

Blowing air over his warm tea, Arthur smiled. "Well it's nice and quiet here isn't it? Besides you were the one who couldn't stand most of our classmates back in school."

"Ah the memory of youth," Yao exclaimed with a mocking tenderness. "It seems just like yesterday when we were studying for exams and… planning our future."

"We're living our future right now."

"Exactly." Yao shook his cup slightly, twirling the dark liquid which emitted a strong aroma.

Arthur glanced through the menu even though he already knew it by heart. "How are you these days?" he asked. "I haven't seen you in a long time." Almost three years.

"I'm good," Yao said, sipping his tea. "What about you? Oh and give my best regards to Franny. I hope you guys are doing well."

"Actually we're expecting a baby." Even though he tried to contain his excitement, Yao could see genuine joy brimming through his eyes.

"Wow-this is great!" Yao congratulated him. "Look at you, little Artie is going to be a father."

"Oh stop it Yao, you and Al are the only ones who still call me that," Arthur fussed good-naturedly. Still trying to maintain the dignity of a soon-to-be father, he said, "Franny really misses you, actually everyone does…Do-do you even contact our old friends?"

"You know I don't," Yao said calmly, not a hint of remorse was in his voice.

"Kiku worries about you," he said. "When was the last time you even talked to him?"

"When he told my parents about me and him," Yao smiled through clenched teeth. "He's a doctor now isn't it? Well good for him. Everything always goes well for him."

"Yao," Arthur lowered his voice. "It wasn't his fault; they were bound to find out about you guys."

"He promised not to tell. I trusted him," he said coolly.

"Okay Yao, fine let's say he betrayed you. That doesn't change the fact that he tried to get you out of that relationship."

"Arthur…" Yao warned.

"That guy ruined you!" Several heads turned in their direction as the conversation became more heated.

"Don't assume things you don't know," Yao spit each word out with venom.

"Why are you still defending him after what he had done to you?!"

"Stop it."

"You were a mess when he left yo-"

"ARTHUR."

"Oh I'm so…" Arthur saw his clenched fists and glaring eyes. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine." He crossed his arms. "I just don't want to talk about him."

"So he never contacted yo-"

Yao laughed. "Did you hear what I just said?" Perhaps his tone was a bit too harsh, so he offered a forced smile and sighed. "Let's talk about something else. I don't want to waste this lovely afternoon digging up the past."

"So…" He emptied his cup with a final sip. "I heard you moved in with a guy…"

"Yeah," Yao said. Fingers tapping in intervals of three, he waited for Arthur's next question.

"A racer no less?" he chuckled. "And together for how long? Three years?"

"Yeah."

"You know I heard stuff about him from Al, they said he,"

"Do you really trust everything your step brother tells you?" Yao interrupted politely.

"Come on, no need to get all defensive. I just want to look out for you."

Yao didn't say anything. Placing his thumb over his mouth, his silence didn't discourage Arthur's interrogation one bit.

"Should you really be doing this? Getting into another relationship with a guy?" He placed relative emphasize on the word 'guy'. "You were so happy with Anya! I thought you guys were going to get married!"

"She had to follow her dream."

"Because you broke up with her," he corrected him.

"I can't ask her to choose between me and her career," Yao argued back.

"Still you could've had a normal life…"

"What are you saying?" Although he tried to maintain his composure, he was quickly getting irritated by his old friend's attitude. "Anyways it's too late now. She moved on and I clearly did too."

"With Ivan Braginsky…" He pronounced his Russian name strangely with a touch of uncertainty. "How did you guys even meet?"

"Do you remember during Alfred's fifth win, you couldn't come so you gave me the ticket?"

"Is that how you guys…"

"Yeah, we talked at the after party…" Yao averted his eyes from Arthur. Well they talked for less than five minutes. "…And we got to know each other." They only got to know each other after countless nights in bed together. "…And we clicked." Physically.

"So it was a one night stand?" Arthur was smarter than most people gave him credits for.

"Not really…" Yao denied.

"Look Yao, you may think I'm being nosy or judgmental or whatever, but I'm worried about you," Arthur said concernedly. "Do you really think you guys can have a future together?"

"How nice of you to care," Yao blurted out gratefully. "When I was at my lowest puking my guts out, being fucked by strangers, none of you answered your calls. And now to think you have the nerve to criticize me about my decisions!"

"How much do you even know about this racer guy?" Arthur ignored his comment. "You think I don't know what you're like? Tell me the truth, are you guys just friends with benefits?"

Yao resisted the urge to get up from his chair and punch him in front of everyone. People were already staring, it wouldn't make a difference if a fight broke out. But instead he pointed his finger at Arthur and dropped his voice down to a hushed whisper. "No. Don't you dare say that."

"Fine, what do you guys do besides fucking each other then?"

"Why should I tell you?" Yao decided he had enough of this and planned to leave in the next minute. There was no point finishing his tea for it had gone cold. However Arthur's next question stopped him in his tracks.

"Do you love him?"

TBC.

AN: *"there lives within the very flame of love a kind of wick or snuff that will abate it"- Claudius (Hamlet, Act IV, scene 7)

I hope this chapter showed their relationship progress! If not, then... haha I have failed.

In Arthur and Yao's conversation, this "him", presumably Yao's first love, will be explained in the next chapter...If people want to know lol.

Thank you for reading!