mating games

Tags

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roommates, Friends to Lovers, No Nut November, Lan Zhan Fucks, Pining Wei Wuxian, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Alcohol Use, Demisexual Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Sex Bet, Flirting, Wei Wuxian Pulls Lan Wangji Into a Celibacy Challenge Neither of Them Are Prepared For, Wei Wuxian's Yearning Could Power The Sun, LWJ/OMC Sex is Offscreen Though Sadly Overheard By Wei Wuxian

Author Notes

Ahahaha, the joke fic that would not quit. If I could go back in time to the me of October who thought wow wouldn't it be funny if wangxian had to cool it for a month after all the smut I put them through, I would stop her, because the joke is all over my face now.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this silly (not so) little thing!

(Originally posted on Squidgeworld in December. Yes, this was a No Nut November joke fic, alas.)

mating games

In and of itself, it isn’t unusual to find an unfamiliar man in Wei Ying’s kitchen, but it would be nice if they didn’t, you know, stand in the way because they’re too scared to touch anything in Lan Zhan’s carefully organized space. As Wei Ying slips around him and opens the refrigerator door to retrieve the soy milk, he nods and tries to pretend he doesn’t know what this guy sounds like when he’s getting railed into an entirely different dimension of spacetime. It’s no one’s fault the walls are so thin or that Lan Zhan has to fuck for hours to get off.

He’s gotten pretty good at feigning ignorance if he says so himself.

“Hey,” he says, studying the guy’s face and robe-clad body. “Need some help finding something?”

The guy flushes. He’s cute, Wei Ying supposes. Kind of has a wide-eyed doe look going on that’s sort of appealing. He’s small. Fuckable, apparently. Wei Ying’s not sure he gets it, but whatever gets Lan Zhan off. Or doesn’t get him off. It sure seems to take a long time for him to finish. How Lan Zhan manages to wake up with such clear skin and bright, gleaming eyes all the time is a miracle Wei Ying will never understand. Who can be that refreshed getting up at five AM after fucking until after midnight? “Um,” the guy says. “Maybe?”

Wei Ying pours a glass of soy milk and waits for further clarification. When none is forthcoming, he starts opening cabinets and musses the shelves in the hopes of inviting this guy to take some initiative. “Coffee, tea, protein powder. You like smoothies? There’s juice in the refrigerator.”

“What does Lan Zhan like?”

“He’s probably out for a run already,” Wei Ying replies. When the guy stares vacantly at him, he realizes that’s not really an answer to someone who doesn’t know Lan Zhan. This has to be the third or fourth time he’s had this conversation. “He drinks tea first thing in the morning. It’ll be water for him until later tonight. Sorry. He likes to let his… dates sleep in. He’s usually back before—” The expression on the guy’s face crumples. Only belatedly, Wei Ying realizes why. He presses his fingers to his mouth and pats a few times. Lan Zhan’s accused him of having a big mouth on multiple occasions. This is absolutely one of the reasons why. Lan Zhan has no doubt made it clear this isn’t going to become a regular thing—he always does—but Wei Ying doesn’t have to rub it in so thoroughly. “How about I make some tea, huh? Lan Zhan’s runs never go past six-thirty. He’ll be back soon with breakfast probably.”

If you’re lucky, he’ll try to crowd you into our tiny shower for a morning quickie.

I really hope you’re not lucky, sorry.

The guy smiles at him, falling on the offer like a dying man. Wei Ying would feel bad for him, but he’s gotten more of Lan Zhan than Wei Ying ever will, so Wei Ying feels entitled to being less than gracious in his heart. As Wei Ying set the water boiling and rifles through the different packets of tea leaves Lan Zhan always buys, the guy begins to relax.

Wei Ying hates it when they relax. When they relax, they get chatty. Then, they start asking questions. Prying questions.

“So,” the guy says, “you’ve known Lan Zhan for a while?”

Case in point.

Gritting his teeth, Wei Ying plucks his least favorite mug from the cabinet, the one that’s thin and gets a little too hot when holding it, the ceramic chipped. Lan Zhan keeps trying to throw it out, but Wei Ying is petty. He doesn’t want Lan Zhan’s guests to have nicer mugs. For himself, he chooses Lan Zhan’s favorite. “Since primary school, yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And now you… live together? Or…?”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says. “Stayed in the dorms at university together and ended up getting jobs in the same city after we graduated.” He categorically does not preen. “Figured, well. Why not split the costs? We already know the many ways we irritate one another.” This is only mostly true. Wei Wuxian spent their entire college career never experiencing the irritation of knowing Lan Zhan has such voracious appetites. If he knew back then what he knows now, he might’ve begged off living with him. The torment is excruciating. As he hands over the guy’s tea, he smiles. “Seems to work out just fine.”

The guy bites his lower lip and blows on the surface of the tea. His palms cup the mug for about five seconds before he switches to holding it with a few fingers hooked in the handle. While Wei Ying pours his own cup, the keypad outside the door beeps.

Lan Zhan, no doubt.

Wei Ying grabs a tall glass and pours some filtered water for him. “Excuse me,” he says to the guy as he passes. By the time Lan Zhan’s opened the door, Wei Ying’s already waiting with the glass. “Good run?”

As Lan Zhan takes the glass, Wei Ying ignores the sweat trickling down his cheek, the warm flush of his face and neck. Lan Zhan is so vibrant, so full of life when he’s like this, as though he’ll burst right out of his skin at any moment. It’s a little like how he imagines Lan Zhan must be when he’s having sex, too big to be contained. Not that he’s likely to find out.

“It was,” Lan Zhan says. In exchange for the glass of water, he hands over a paper bag that’s only just beginning to turn translucent from oil. “Thank you, Wei Ying.”

The guy trots over, vying for his fair share of Lan Zhan’s attention, which he gets, though less because Lan Zhan’s interested in giving it and more because it’s the polite thing to do. As they retreat to Lan Zhan’s room, discussing the possibility of sharing a shower, Wei Ying sighs and slumps and wishes he was the one splashing water all over the bathroom while getting fucked. Draining his mug, he rinses it and finishes off the soy milk that’s grown tepid while it sat. He eats one of the jianbing tucked into the bag and leaves the rest for them to share.

The bathroom is surprisingly quiet as he leaves the apartment.

Lan Zhan rarely sees the same guy twice anyway, but that doesn’t seem like a great omen.

Wei Ying bites back a genuine smile as he takes the stairs two at a time, whistling happily as he mentally says adieu to yet another of Lan Zhan’s conquests.

The sound of moaning, loud even with headphones on, finally breaks Wei Ying from the flow state he’s fallen into courtesy of the stingy work deadlines he’s been given this week. When he looks at his laptop screen, he’s surprised to see he’s completed his most urgent project already and began on another with a slightly more generous deadline. As he cleans up his desk and yawns into his elbow, all he can think about is what Lan Zhan is doing in the other room and whether it would be rude to knock on the wall.

He tells himself Lan Zhan’s not being discourteous. He really doesn’t bring guys back that often. He works hard enough that he definitely deserves to blow off steam and Wei Ying can’t expect him to always go to the other guy’s place. That wouldn’t be fair. In fact, Wei Ying’s probably the one who is annoying in this respect. Except for when he visits his parents, he rarely stays elsewhere overnight. Lan Zhan doesn’t have enough opportunities to have the place to himself to be more discreet.

“Fuck,” the guy says as Wei Ying slips into pajama pants and skins out of his shirt. “Oh, fuck. Nnnngh. Lan Zhan.”

His hand, almost of its own accord, skims over his crotch as he slips between the sheets. A thrill of pleasure blooms within him, illicit and unfair. He shouldn’t get off on this. He doesn’t normally. He’s not going to do it now.

He’s not.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on in the other room, pretends he’s not straining to hear Lan Zhan’s voice between the earnest moans his partner is beginning to let out. Not once has he heard Lan Zhan make a noise, but that doesn’t mean it might not be different this time. Cries, thuds, warm, hushed laughter. None of them compare to the mythic quality Wei Ying has assigned to Lan Zhan’s stubbornly silent voice.

He shouldn’t touch himself, but as his dick fills without his permission, he’s not strong enough to stop himself either. As he wraps his hand around his shaft, he shudders and turns into his pillow to muffle himself. At first, his mind conjures no images to accompany the noise, but in short order, he’s seeing himself in Lan Zhan’s room, at Lan Zhan’s mercy. He times the stroke of his hand to what he guesses Lan Zhan’s rhythm to be, a little on the fast side, but thorough and unrelenting. As he hardens fully, the slide of his hand eases, precome smoothing the way.

It’s easy to imagine Lan Zhan would prefer to take his partners from behind, press his arm against the back of their neck, pinning them to the bed as he takes his pleasure from their bodies. They’re just vessels to him, human fleshlights, easily discarded. If he and Lan Zhan didn’t know one another, Wei Ying could be one of them, too, fucked and tossed aside.

His hips stutter. He squeezes his palm between his cheek and the pillow, pressing it to his mouth and biting the soft round of flesh. How easy would it be to become Lan Zhan’s toy? How convenient? He could have Wei Ying any night of the week without going anywhere to pull someone.

He should, in fact, do exactly that, because otherwise, he’ll go insane. Or he’ll have to find another apartment, which. Who would willingly do that when he’s already set up?

But how does he make Lan Zhan see that?

Back when they were at university together, he tried getting Lan Zhan’s attention that way. He dressed provocatively, acted provocatively. Neither were natural to him. He considers himself stylish enough, but his usual wardrobe was pretty restrained, if only to keep his mother from teasing him relentlessly. Whenever he incorporated thin, low-cut tanks or tighter jeans, Lan Zhan never seemed to notice. Make-up, no go. Wet and sweaty, nope. In fact, the more Wei Ying tried to get his attention, the less attention Lan Zhan paid to him.

It’s like he just didn’t see Wei Ying back then, finally blooming into a few hormones that he directed at Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan alone. Nothing in the intervening years has changed in that respect.

He’s beginning to think nothing will.

“Huaisang,” Wei Ying says as he forages in his kitchen for something to cook for dinner, “I have a purely hypothetical question for you.” His phone is sitting next to the stove on the little stand Lan Zhan bought him a few years back. Huaisang’s giddy face fills the screen.

“I’m sure I’ll only have an entirely hypothetical answer for you,” Huaisang replies. His voice is a bit tinny through his phone’s speakers, but his grin is bright and mischievous. “What’s going on with Lan Zhan this time?”

Lan Zhan must have done some shopping while Wei Ying didn’t notice, because there are a ton more vegetables stuffed inside the refrigerator than he remembers there being. He pulls a few of them out and grabs a knife, stopping long enough to wash his hands and then the produce. As he works, he raises his voice and looks over his shoulder periodically to ensure his friend is still enthralled with the narrative he weaves. “I think I’m ready to give it a go,” he concludes. “Seriously, not just like how I fucked around in college trying to make him fuck me.”

“Oh?” Huaisang taps his finger against his pursed lips. “What changed your mind?”

In truth, he doesn’t know either. No lightning bolt has struck out of the blue to remind him of what he’s missing out on. No great upheaval in his life has forced him to reconsider the things that are important to him. He’s just done with not trying. If Lan Zhan isn’t interested, that’s fine, but at least Wei Ying will have done something to make his feelings known.

“You could just, you know, tell him,” Huaisang says. “That’s a thing you could do.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying agrees as he begins slicing the vegetables into the long, thin strips Lan Zhan likes to eat with his noodles, bland, a little tasty with oil after Wei Ying has spent years forcing more indulgent flavors on him. For his own portion, he’ll just make it a little spicier. They can eat together. It’ll be nice. It’s been a while since they’ve had a meal together. “But where’s the fun in that? He’s tortured me for years with the cries of myriad guys who aren’t me. I deserve a bit of entertainment in recompense, don’t I?”

“If you want your spine snapped like a twig, sure. You should have a bit of fun.”

“See? You understand. I just have to figure out how to keep his attention to me long enough to get my spine realigned. Problem solved.”

Only the sound of chopping accompanies him for a short while, long enough that he looks over at his phone where Huaisang is simply staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Huaisang’s hands fill the screen. “Nothing. I’m just wishing I lived in the reality you live in. Everyone pays attention to you, Wei Ying. Even Lan Zhan.”

Wei Ying twirls the knife in the air. “Whatever. Clearly not in the way I want or I wouldn’t have to come up with a scheme to get him into bed with me.”

Again, there’s silence, the suspicious sort of silence that Wei Ying knows means Huaisang has come up with some kind of scheme. It will no doubt be a ridiculous, convoluted scheme, but Wei Ying wants to hear it anyway. It might spark something. Or at least he’ll get a laugh out of it.

“Huaisang, just say what you want to say.”

“I couldn’t speak such profane things into the world.”

Before he can cajole Huaisang properly, his phone dings with a message from Huaisang containing only a link to meme post. Wei Ying makes a face at it, laughs, make another face. “Who the hell would do this? You want me to go a month without jerking off?”

“I don’t care if you jerk off or not,” Huaisang says loftily, “but who knows what Lan Zhan will do if he has to go a month without sex.”

“Pfft. He’ll just yell at me a little more, big deal.” He resumes slicing up vegetables and imagines it. A shiver barrels its way down Wei Ying’s spine. “Actually…”

Truthfully, he wouldn’t mind being yelled at.

“See?”

“Okay, but Lan Zhan already did his time as a good celibate man who’d never even think a filthy thought in his life. One, why would he go back to that when he’s obviously enjoying himself? Two, how does this conversation even happen?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius? Make something up. He’ll take whatever bait you lay for him.”

“Hmm.”

“Or you could just tell him you want to fuck.”

To be honest, Nie Huaisang is right. He should simply do that, but now he’s imagining how fun it would be to watch Lan Zhan get all huffy and sex-starved in his general direction. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Spoken like a virgin who’s about to get himself in over his head.”

Wei Ying laughs. He loves the thought of getting in over his head. And assuming it works, all that pent-up sexual energy is going to get taken out on him at the end of it. Thinking of it that way, he can’t say it’s not worth the risk he’ll run by bringing it up. Lan Zhan’s attention has always been worthwhile, even the negative attention.

“This virgin just wants to see what it’s like to go a month without jerking off. I couldn’t possibly have—” Behind him, the door slams and Lan Zhan is standing in front of it, ears red. Wei Ying is too practiced to drop the knife he’s holding, but his heart is suddenly racing. Lan Zhan has definitely heard something. How much, Wei Ying can’t quite tell. His expression is deeply, deeply opaque, impossible to parse. Wei Ying consoles himself with the knowledge that Lan Zhan has definitely found him in more compromising positions. “Hi, Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying,” he says, voice strained.

“Too much info?” Wei Ying grimaces sympathetically. The best way through embarrassment is to pretend you meant to be embarrassing. “Sorry.” He’s definitely not sorry, because Lan Zhan eventually becomes readable again and what Wei Ying sees in him is that competitive spirit Nie Huaisang mentioned. He hangs up on Nie Huaisang and swipes over to the post Nie Huaisang sent to him. Holding his phone out, he says, “You wanna play, too?”

“Why would I do that?”

Wei Ying rolls one shoulder, looks down at the pile of veggies ready to be stir fried, stops himself from saying exactly what he’s thinking. “I don’t know. Isn’t it kind of hot? Going without and then just… finally letting yourself have it?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow. “With whom?”

“You could get any guy you wanted, Lan Zhan. You tell me.”

Oh, Lan Zhan has definitely been provoked. His lips do that thing where they get really, really thin, and his eyes flash dangerously. A delicious shiver works down Wei Ying’s spine. Dare he say something? Surely Lan Zhan isn’t unaware of the ambiance.

Wei Ying rarely backs down from challenges. This is the only one he hasn’t overcome. Because fate dropped the opportunity in his lap, he has to go for it. “A month without jerking off, I bet even I’d be gagging for it.”

Lan Zhan’s expression darkens.

“So.” Wei Ying bounces on the balls of his feet. “What do you say? Gentleman’s bet?”

“When would we be expected to start?”

“November 1? Nice number. Right after my birthday.”

“Fine. November first.” Then, Lan Zhan turns away, makes for his room, an entirely normal way to end a conversation, and yet.

As he returns his attention to dinner, stymied and turned on at the same time, he mutters to himself. “Really thought I’d get more questions on this one.”

Though Wei Ying’s favorite day of the year is Lan Zhan’s birthday, because of Lan Zhan, his own comes in a close second. As he stretches, sprawling across his bed and scrolling through the notifications of many well wishes, he’s already looking forward to every bit of mischief he’s free to get up to today. Over the years, Lan Zhan has grown lax in scolding Wei Ying for transgressions, but on his birthday, he is truly indulgent.

Sometimes, Lan Zhan even participates, as long as it’s nothing too wild.

He calls his parents and chats with them for a bit as he stares at the ceiling. When they finish talking, he finally gets up.

As he saunters into the living area, he smells oil and dough and hears the delicious hiss of something being fried. The nice thing about their place, small though it is, is how he gets to enjoy the image of Lan Zhan’s back as he moves about the kitchen, expertly pulling spices and other ingredients from their cupboard and refrigerator. Though Lan Zhan clearly has everything well in hand, Wei Ying flings himself across the counter and reaches for the belt loop of Lan Zhan’s slacks. “Can I help?” he asks, tugging lightly. “Lan Zhan, what are you doing?”

“Making breakfast,” Lan Zhan replies.

“That’s a lot of breakfast, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying points out. He stretches and rolls around to better see what’s going on. There’s youtiao—no doubt for the both of them—and what looks like hot and dry noodles for Wei Ying. Wei Ying’s mouth is watering already. “Gege is too good to me.”

“There’s cut fruit in the refrigerator if you’d like to get started,” Lan Zhan replies. As always, he ignores Wei Ying’s flirtatious taunt. “Happy birthday, Wei Ying.”

“If you really want to spoil me, you’ll come with me to dinner tonight,” he says as he inspects the inside of the refrigerator. As Lan Zhan promised, there’s cut fruit. A lot of it. More than is entirely necessary.

The chopsticks Lan Zhan has been holding clatter onto the stove top.

“We’ll be drinking a bit, too, probably find a club afterward. If you want to come to that, you can. Find one last guy to fuck before—”

Lan Zhan cuts a severe glance in Wei Ying’s direction and swipes up the chopsticks. “Are you planning to…?”

Wei Ying closes the refrigerator door with his hip and waggles his eyebrows. “Find someone to fuck?” Wei Ying barely restrains a laugh at the storm cloud hanging around Lan Zhan’s head. “Lan Zhan, I didn’t know you were so interested in my sex life.”

As soon as he says it, he prepares himself for a catty retort from Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan, of course, doesn’t disappoint. “I wasn’t aware you were interested in having one.”

“A man still has needs from time to time.” While holding the tray of fruit in one hand, he plucks a piece of mango between his fingers and holds it against Lan Zhan’s lips. “Not all of us are as strong and virile as you.”

It’s not meant to be a jab, not a serious one anyway, but Wei Ying sees the way Lan Zhan’s shoulder slumps and wishes he could stop himself from saying it. Truly, he’s glad Lan Zhan can be himself and express himself as he wishes. In a way, it’s a privilege to be one of the few people Lan Zhan trusts in this way, and Lan Zhan deserves to feel comfortable in his home. Clearly, fucking the daylights out of guys is an important part of that. The fact that Wei Ying isn’t that guy is a shame, but that’s not Lan Zhan’s problem.

“Lan Zhan…”

“Eat your breakfast,” Lan Zhan says gruffly, guiding him to the counter.

“Lan Zhan, that’s not a bad thing. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” Lan Zhan’s expression softens. “Eat your breakfast.”

“Will you come out to dinner?”

“I will.”

“You guys are great,” Wei Ying says, warm and happy as he clings to Lan Zhan’s arm outside the restaurant they’ve just vacated, all his favorite people around him, even Jiang Cheng, who probably should be studying or something, whatever it is the young kids—”I’m five days younger than you, Wei Ying.”—do with their free time. “Lan Zhan, you’re really great.”

“Wei Ying, you’re excellent as well,” he replies.

Behind them, Jiang Cheng gags and nudges the back of Wei Ying’s ankle in retaliation. Wei Ying, despite having drunk his weight in baijiu from all the toasts, shamelessly pretends to trip further into Lan Zhan’s embrace. Lan Zhan doesn’t dislodge him. An extra birthday present just for him, even better than all the food he’d been given.

As they crowd into the club, raucous and bright and so very loud, Mianmian finds them a table and then argues with Lan Zhan over who’s buying the first round. Lan Zhan is polite, but adamant. Mianmian is relentless. Jiang Cheng barks at both of them and then disappears in the direction of the bar while they’re still standing there. Wei Ying sits with his thigh against Lan Zhan’s the whole time, enjoying the warmth of their body heat mingling.

Though there aren’t a lot of people dressed for Halloween, there are a few, and Wei Ying enjoys watching them as he sips the drinks that get handed to him. “What if I make everyone dress up for my birthday next year,” Wei Ying calls over the sound of music and other patrons’ conversation. “Would you dress up, Lan Zhan?”

“Sure.”

“What would you dress up as?”

With a straight face, Lan Zhan replies, “A rabbit.”

“Lan Zhan! Shit—” He nearly overturns his drink. “Lan Zhan, you wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have to be something dignified and sexy.”

Lan Zhan’s eyebrows jump and his lip twitches in something that could almost be called a smile. “Rabbits aren’t sexy?”

Wei Ying can’t answer that, his mind going places it has no right going as Wei Ying imagines the many versions of a rabbit costume Lan Zhan could wind up wearing. “Why do you even want to go as a rabbit anyway?”

“You don’t remember?” Lan Zhan asks, sounding piqued.

“I think I’d remember if you wore a rabbit costume or cared about rabbits.”

Lan Zhan clicks his tongue and focuses on drinking his seltzer water. Though Wei Ying tries to bully him into answering, Lan Zhan won’t succumb to peer pressure.

The night passes too quickly as the rest of the table gets in on the conversation, debating the relative sexiness of rabbit costumes and which kind Lan Zhan should be made to wear if he’s going to talk such a big game. Wei Ying insists it has to be refined, a suit maybe. Lan Zhan is a classy guy, but he can have a pair of floppy ears and a little tail that pokes out of his very refined, gentlemanly suit.

The rest think Lan Zhan should wear a bustier. Or at the very least, they’re trying to embarrass Lan Zhan and Wei Ying is more than a little annoyed about it. Only Wei Ying can tease Lan Zhan like that. Grandiosely, he announces that if anyone is going to wear a bustier, it’s him.

Lan Zhan’s attention on him deepens, grows almost stifling. It makes Wei Ying want to squirm. “It was just a joke, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, patting his shoulder. “I won’t make you hang out with me dressed like that. How shameless could I possibly be?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t answer.

Before Wei Ying knows it, Lan Zhan is helping him back to the subway as he calls goodbye to everyone. Though Jiang Cheng offers to drive them, Wei Ying waves him off. He likes the thought of having the excuse of public transportation to stand close to Lan Zhan. This time, he is actually kind of drunk.

Jiang Cheng eyes him closely, glances at Lan Zhan, then scoffs and shakes his head, throwing up one hand and saying, “Fine. Have fun being crowded into a subway car with a bunch of drunkards.”

To his liquor-addled brain, he’s pleased when they are crowded into said subway car, intoxicated university students traveling back to campus, chattering excitedly to one another. Like at the bar, some of them are wearing costumes of one sort or another, but Wei Ying’s mostly too focused on the warm press of Lan Zhan’s body against his to notice. By the time they arrive home, Wei Ying’s ready to go to bed. In one fashion or another. He’s not very picky.

Only Lan Zhan won’t let him. In fact, he steers Wei Ying toward the bathroom, washes his face for him, rather intensely brushes his teeth, and then asks, somber, “Did you have a good birthday?”

Still perched on the tiny corner of the counter Lan Zhan deposited him on, Wei Ying nods. “It was a good birthday, Lan Zhan. Thank you.”

Lan Zhan sighs through his nose and shakes his head. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“Mm, there is.” For a moment, he can’t remember why. “You could have gotten laid one last time tonight.”

“There will be other occasions.” He grabs Wei Ying under the arm and pulls him off the counter, guiding him to his bedroom.

“In a month.”

“Your birthday will only happen again in a year. It was worth the very small sacrifice of my time.”

Though Lan Zhan’s logic is sound, he still appreciates Lan Zhan and wants him to know it. He’s always doing things for Wei Ying, things beyond what a normal friend might feel the need to do. Wei Ying is grateful to him for that.

He’s the best friend Wei Ying has ever had.

“I’ll get you some water while you change for bed,” Lan Zhan says.

Before Lan Zhan even comes back, he’s already dozing off, too sleepy and comfortable to keep his eyes open even though he only managed to get down to his boxers before he flopped onto his bed. It really was a good night, spent with most of his favorite people, and Lan Zhan at his side, right as he should be.

Lan Zhan is, of course, awake when Wei Ying wakes up. Like yesterday, he is already making breakfast. Some of it might even be for Wei Ying from the looks of it, though there are a lot more bland colors and scents than he remembers from yesterday. “Oh, to be the Wei Ying of yesterday, who got to eat spice, such bright and tasty food. Not like poor Wei Ying now, who is—”

Lan Zhan stops fussing with a steaming basket long enough to point at a bowl of still-hot congee sitting on the counter next to the stove. “Eat.”

“—deprived. So deprived. Why must I suffer? There’s only a thin slice of ginger in there.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, giving him the voice that Wei Ying imagines he offers to the guys he fucks, all domineering and bossy. “Drink some water as well.”

Pouting, Wei Ying pours a glass of water for himself and Lan Zhan. He then pointedly drains his own and smacks his lips. “You know, I feel fine. I didn’t drink that much.” That’s not true, but he has very clear memories of everything that happened yesterday. “I don’t even have a hangover.”

“It’s still good for you.”

“Can I have a few of those?” Wei Ying asks, pointing at the freshly steamed bao, their surfaces slightly shiny and perfectly round. He can’t wait to find out what Lan Zhan’s filled them with. Even when they’re purely vegetarian, they’re tasty.

Though Lan Zhan rolls his eyes, he gives over two. For his largesse, Wei Ying holds his tongue about the lack of spice in the meal. Lan Zhan already knows him well. He won’t be convinced when he’s gotten into mother hen mode, wanting to make sure Wei Ying is well after a night of drinking.

“So,” he says, between bites. Lan Zhan’s pretty much done cooking and is spooning up his own bowl of congee, plain except for a few slivers of pickled vegetables. “Are you ready?”

Lan Zhan comes to stand across from him at the thin bit of counter that separates the kitchen from the living area. “Are you?”

Wei Ying thinks about it. To be honest, he kind of wishes he’d jerked off one last time, but overall, yeah. Sure. “Yep. I’m ready.” Then he laughs. “The gay scene in the entirety of Jiangsu province is going to be so sad, Lan Zhan. You’ll be missed.”

Scowling, Lan Zhan stirs his congee and ignores Wei Ying. As soon as he starts eating, Wei Ying won’t be able to pester him into answering until he’s done. When Lan Zhan lifts his spoon, Wei Ying grabs his wrist, stopping him. “Wei Ying, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Ah, come on. You’ve always got guys throwing themselves at you. Four weeks of these poor men not getting to experience you. It’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“They’ll survive.” His lips thin and he looks down, ears red. “Let go, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying’s not sure why he’s moved to be so provocative, but he can’t help it. “Or what? Will you make me?”

With a scoff, Lan Zhan twists his hand expertly out of Wei Ying’s hold and steps back before Wei Ying can grab him again. He doesn’t love eating standing up like this without even the counter to take advantage of, but he manages to bring the bowl of congee with him, abandoning the plate of bao to its fate. Wei Ying won’t be a jerk and take them. Instead, he pushes the plate closer, a promise to behave even if he won’t say as much.

Once Lan Zhan is satisfied Wei Ying isn’t planning anymore misbehaviors, he picks up one of the buns and bites into it as Wei Ying watches. Before Wei Ying can make a comment about how elegant and wonderful he is, how neatly and cleanly he’s able to eat, like a princeling or a perfect gentleman, he turns away.

“You’re no fun, Lan Zhan.”

When they’re both done and finished cleaning up, Wei Ying holds out his hand to Lan Zhan. “Good luck beating off your admirers today.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t shake on it, which Wei Ying finds kind of rude. As they both abandon the house in order to go to work, he says, “Don’t be so mean, Lan Zhan. It’ll be a lot of fun.”

Lan Zhan offers him a raised eyebrow, but says nothing else otherwise as they make their way down the stairs.

“Lan Zhan,” he calls when they reach ground level, about to go their separate ways for the day. For a moment, he wishes they were back in school so they could simply go together, spending that little extra time in one another’s company.

“What?”

Back when they’d first finished school, he’d thought they’d get to spend more time together as roommates, but that hasn’t turned out to be the case, both of them at fault for it and neither of them at fault. They both work late hours a lot of the time, and Wei Ying gets convinced to go out with other friends and coworkers all the time, dragged to late night meals and to bars for drinks and every which way because he’s cute and social and has somehow turned into the kind of person who can be admired. Lan Zhan, too, has a night life, taking time to find partners for the night with whom he does all sorts of things Wei Ying can’t imagine.

The only time they have for one another is the morning, and even then, Wei Ying prefers to sleep as long as possible instead of getting up early like Lan Zhan does.

“Nothing,” Wei Ying says, grinning broadly. “I just wanted to say your name.”

When Wei Ying comes home from work, tired as always, he’s surprised to discover Lan Zhan has beat him home. In fact, he’s cooking dinner again in a way that Wei Ying finds weirdly, charmingly domestic, and it’s… nice. Immediately nice. Pummels him in the heart with how nice it is. For a handful of seconds, this is the rightest thing that’s happened in his life in ages. This is how it should be. This is what he wants.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says, catching him in the act of spooling out a whole future for the both of them in which he comes home to find Lan Zhan cooking for him. “Is everything okay?”

Lan Zhan’s even wearing an apron, a sleek, crisp black thing that wraps around his pretty waist. They definitely didn’t own it before today. He imagines Lan Zhan passing a shop on his way home, seeing it through the window, deciding that he’ll pick it up, because why not? He’ll be home a lot more. Maybe he spent the handful of moments he was buying it thinking about how he wanted to cook for them both. They can spend some time together, just the two of them.

“Everything’s okay,” Wei Ying says, keeping a jaunty tone as he slips out of his shoes and flings his backpack at the couch. Though Lan Zhan’s mouth twitches in displeasure, he says nothing. “We could have ordered something, you know. You don’t have to cook breakfast and dinner.”

“I wanted to.”

“Then how about I find something for us to watch together?” Is that asking for too much? Would Lan Zhan even want to? What does he enjoy these days. There’s probably a documentary they could watch together. Lan Zhan probably still likes to watch those. Maybe.

“Sure.”

“Or I could go out and get a cake or something? Make it a proper meal? I didn’t get cake last night, Lan Zhan. That’s kind of a crime, isn’t it? You deserve something sweet for all the trouble you’re going through.”

“If you would like cake, we can do that, too,” Lan Zhan replies, apparently willing to indulge Wei Ying in his every whim. “I didn’t realize you wanted a cake last night.” He sounds troubled as he fusses around in the kitchen. It’s so endearing. “I’m sorry, Wei Ying. I would have gotten you one.”

Wei Ying can only laugh. Wanting a cake seems like little in the grand scheme of things compared to what he truly desires. “I didn’t know I wanted any,” Wei Ying admits. “I like the thought of having it now though.”

Lan Zhan nods, returns to what he’s doing, tells Wei Ying he should get whatever flavor he likes, even though Wei Ying intends to get chiffon, delicate enough for Lan Zhan’s taste buds to enjoy properly, even though Wei Ying prefers stronger flavors even when it comes to desserts.

He returns with cake just as Lan Zhan’s finishing plating dinner. It’s an extravagant amount of food for just the two of them, but Wei Ying eats with relish while Lan Zhan goes through a lot of trouble putting more into his bowl whenever he’s close to eating his fill. “Lan Zhan, you’re going to have to roll me to the couch if you’re not careful. I’m stuffed.”

“So you say,” Lan Zhan replies, absolutely unrepentant. By the time the food is put away, Wei Ying feels sated and sleepy, not even sure he wants a slice of cake until Lan Zhan hauls him to the couch and offers him a piece.

It’s nice spending time with Lan Zhan like this.

“Anything strike your fancy, Lan Zhan?” he asks as he scrolls through the available streaming app fare. Maybe one of the agricultural documentaries would be nice. It could even just serve as background noise while they talk to one another.

“Whatever you would like to watch,” Lan Zhan replies, not helpful in the slightest.

“Lan Zhan indulges me too much,” Wei Ying mutters, but he knows if he doesn’t pick, they’ll just sit here wasting time trying to decide.

Within five minutes, Wei Ying has already twisted so his arm can drape across the back of the couch, one leg hiked up, the other stretched far enough that he could poke Lan Zhan’s ankle with his toe. “Lan Zhan, I feel like we haven’t really hung out lately.”

“It has been a busy time,” Lan Zhan says noncommittally. “I’ll do better in the future to make sure I’m available more often.”

“That’s not—” Wei Ying frowns and kicks out at Lan Zhan’s thigh. He leaves it there simply because he can and sticks out his tongue. “I didn’t mean to criticize you, Lan Zhan. We’re both doing our own things a lot of the time. It’s nobody’s fault. I just wanted to say I was having a good time getting to spend time with you. Lan Zhan, really. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Still,” Lan Zhan says. “I can make more of an effort.”

“Well, so can I. Hell, we can consider this our effort. Knock out two birds with one stone and all that. What do you say?” Wei Ying nudges Lan Zhan with his heel.

“That sounds fine, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying doesn’t resort to pouting, but it is a little less fun for Wei Ying when Lan Zhan simply goes along with him. Unless he’s working for it, what’s the point? Their entire relationship is built on Wei Ying having to work for it. That’s their thing. “Then I’ll make more effort, too. Who has to work as late as we do, huh? Even the interns don’t work as hard. Even just watching documentaries is nice.”

Of course, they could do other things instead.

He shifts and sits a little more appropriately, willing his body to not react to that line of thinking.

It’s not even been a day and he’s already in trouble.

“Why do you think it is?” Wei Ying blurts out.

“Why do you think what is?”

“That we don’t hang out as much anymore? We weren’t much less busy during school. I know you have a lot of things you like to do, but…”

“I don’t know,” Lan Zhan replies, an answer that is more hurtful than Wei Ying might have expected, not least of all because Lan Zhan’s expression grows a little troubled. In profile, Wei Ying can’t read it well, but it looks a little like guilt. “As I said, I’ll do better.”

“I really wasn’t trying to pin the blame on you, Lan Zhan.”

“I know,” Lan Zhan replies. “Nevertheless, I will work harder to spend more time with you.”

Though Wei Ying feels uneasy suddenly, like he’s asking for something that oughtn’t be his, he also feels warm and pleased by Lan Zhan’s assertion, his willingness to give up any of his time for Wei Ying at all. Their friendship has been a hard-won thing, sometimes difficult to maneuver. “Lan Zhan, you’re the best.”

“You shouldn’t say such outrageous things.”

“You and I both know this is nowhere near one of the most outrageous things I’ve ever said,” Wei Ying replies. “Lan Zhan, really. You’re just asking me to be provocative on purpose.”

“You’ve never needed my interference in that respect. I don’t see why you’d start now.”

True to his word, Lan Zhan makes time each night for Wei Ying, even beyond what Wei Ying expected of him. He cooks every meal for them, though he also rotates in some of the leftover side dishes to keep from being too wasteful, and they do wind up watching a lot of documentaries together. Sometimes, they discuss what they see on the screen. Sometimes, they talk about work or simply something they saw online that was a little bit amusing. Sometimes, they don’t talk at all, but it’s still perfectly fine and good.

It’s nice, definitely, but it doesn’t get Wei Ying any closer to his ultimate goal here, which is getting Lan Zhan to see him as an object of sexual value to him and fuck him silly. Maybe some people would think that’s weird, wanting such a thing, but Wei Ying thinks it’s hot and he also knows Lan Zhan. Even if he did see Wei Ying as an object to fuck, he’d still be nice about it afterward.

Sometimes, he does wonder why he never just went for it sooner, back before Lan Zhan got a whole herd of guys at his disposal, men he could call on if he wished and men he could simply pull when he wanted to. Though he doesn’t repeat with many of them, he does repeat with some. Wei Ying could have been one of them this whole time. It feels like a waste.

So he’s feeling the squeeze. This was supposed to be a competition, right? The whole point of this whole endeavor is to make Lan Zhan want him. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch while they watch stuff together is, yes, fun, but also not a perfect thing to do to make the whole situation feel sexier.

Perhaps it’s time to work on that.

Wei Ying is not a natural athlete. He’s sporty, sure, and he can run when he needs to, but he’s not like Lan Zhan, out there jogging every morning and ensuring his body is a temple about the whole thing. Wei Ying basically stretches and does a few jumping jacks, some crunches, and sometimes gets dragged to the gym when Jiang Cheng has the mind to use a punching bag as a means to beat him up, too. That’s the way he prefers it.

But throwing on basketball shorts and a t-shirt and jumping around a few times isn’t going to light anyone on fire any time soon.

As he peruses his options at the sporting goods store that’s nowhere near his apartment, he feels stymied. The thought of doing yoga kind of bores him, plus there’s not much space in their apartment. Running, well. He doesn’t love running, though he could try to turn it into a bonding activity with Lan Zhan.

On the other hand, tiny bike shorts and a stretchy shirt might be a go. As he stands in front of a display of state of the art sweat-wicking fabric tech, he takes a picture and sends it Nie Huaisang.

<< What do we think about this?
>> We think exercise is not for us obviously.
<< For me.
<< Is it seductive or…?

Wei Ying’s phone rings.

“You’re really going through with this?” Nie Huaisang says. More like squeals. Crows, maybe. Crows is a good word for it. “Just ask him to fuck you if we’ve already reached this point.”

“My ass would look incredible in bike shorts.”

“It’s November.”

“Yeah, and I get hot when I work out. It’ll be fine. We’re in a heat wave anyway.”

“It’s twenty degrees out.”

Nie Huaisang is just being a wet paper bag on purpose. Wei Ying knows better. “The shirt would set off my shoulders.”

“Why did you even message me if you’re already determined to do this?”

“Sometimes a guy likes to hear about how hot he’d look in spandex.”

“You already know you’d look hot in anything. Begging for confirmation isn’t like you.” Suddenly, Nie Huaisang draws in a breath. “Are you nervous? Really?”

“Shut up.” He’s not nervous obviously. It just matters to him a little more than most things do. How Lan Zhan sees him is important. “Can’t you just be glad I’m taking a chance at all?”

“Oh, I can be glad and think you should’ve done it already.”

“You could also be useful to me and tell me what you think.”

“I think you should get the all black number. Make sure you have a helmet, too, right?”

“I need a helmet?” Wei Ying replies mockingly.

“And a bike. Good luck.”

Before Wei Ying can offer a scathing retort, Nie Huaisang hangs up on him.

Rude. Wei Ying loves having the last word too much to let Nie Huaisang have it.

The next morning, Wei Ying groans and tosses as his alarm goes off. His brain works through the plan for today, how long he’ll need to get to work and shower and settle in on time, the route he’ll have to take to get there. The one nice thing is taking a shower here is pointless, giving him a few more minutes to mope around before he gets up and makes for the bathroom, new biking shorts and shirt clutched to his chest.

“You’re up,” Lan Zhan says, running into him in the cramped hallway between their bedrooms and the bathroom. His hair is still wet and he’s only wearing a robe and there’s a drop of water rolling down his neck and following the path laid out by his perfect collarbones. It’s truly unfair. Lan Zhan’s collarbones are definitely the best out there, make no mistake. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Wei Ying answers, bleary. The scent of Lan Zhan’s body wash tickles his nose, making him ache with want. But wanting what, he’s not sure. Wanting to lean in and sniff. Wanting to beg Lan Zhan to take him to bed. Wanting Lan Zhan to want him so much he takes him against the door right here and now, giving Wei Ying no time to beg at all. “Just trying something new.”

Though Lan Zhan’s eyebrow climbs his forehead, he merely says, “The bathroom is free if you need it.”

“Thanks, Lan Zhan.”

“Would you like me to make breakfast for you as well?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Wei Ying replies, giving a big, beaming smile to Lan Zhan as he takes Lan Zhan’s place in the doorway. He winks, because it’s important to go big when backed into the bathroom doorway, steam still wafting from within, a more intimate sensation than it has any right to be. “You’re spoiling me lately, Lan Zhan. I really will have to do something special for you when the month is over with, won’t I?”

Though Lan Zhan scoffs, Wei Ying very distinctly doesn’t hear disagreement from him. Which means maybe Lan Zhan wouldn’t be opposed.

Endeared, Wei Ying pats Lan Zhan’s cheek. “Poor Lan Zhan.”

What he really means is: poor Wei Ying.

Though he’d spoken with one of the guys who worked at the store he’d bought this outfit from, it’s another thing to look at himself in the mirror while he’s wearing shorts without underwear beneath them and a shirt so fitted he feels sure his nipples will be visible the second he breathes too deeply.

He twists and looks at himself from the side and then from the back. Though he can blame part of it on the padding in the shorts, there’s not a lot left to the imagination, is there? His ass is perfectly outlined and his thighs look good enough that even he’d give himself a second glance if he was walking down the street. The shirt is doing a staggering amount of work for his shoulders.

He pulls his hair into a messy ponytail and studies himself one final time. Huh.

“Good luck,” he tells his reflection, pressing his fingertips to the mirror as he turns away. If he’s going to do this, he has to commit to the bit. He can’t show even the slightest hint of nervousness or Lan Zhan will know he has an ulterior motive.

There’s soy milk already waiting for him as he reaches the counter, but his stomach flutters so nervously as he picks up the glass that he knows he won’t be able to drink any of it. Lan Zhan of course hears him and looks over his shoulder. He immediately double takes and then straightens his spine, focus returning to the stove. “Wei Ying,” he says. “Will eggs be alright this morning?”

Wei Ying bites back a smile as he notes the spread of pink across Lan Zhan’s nape and his ears. “That’ll be fine.”

When Lan Zhan has finished cooking, he plates for both of them and studiously doesn’t look Wei Ying in the eye. Though Wei Ying would like to tease him, he feels he needs to take it slow, go easy, lull Lan Zhan into a false sense of security.

“Have you… taken up a new activity?” Lan Zhan eventually asks.

Wei Ying rolls his shoulder, then stretches his arms over his head. “I don’t get enough exercise. Thought I’d follow all that good advice you used to give me back when you thought you could scold me into behaving.”

“I see.”

“I want to be more health conscious.”

“Obviously.”

“The guy at the sports store said I should get these,” Wei Ying says, unable to help himself since Lan Zhan gave him such a fine opening. This is, sort of, a lie. Nie Huaisang did tell him to get them, and he was at the store in the sense that his phone with Nie Huaisang’s voice was there. But he likes the idea of pretending another man wanted to get Wei Ying into such salacious gear. It makes the sour downturn of Lan Zhan’s mouth worthwhile. “They’re good for riding.”

“Mn.”

Wei Ying leans across the table. “What do you think, Lan Zhan?”

“Perhaps you should ask the guy at the sports store.”

With a laugh, Wei Ying settles properly on one of the stools tucked beneath the counter and eats politely. It’s unfortunate that he has to leave the apartment so early. He would have enjoyed tormenting Lan Zhan a little longer. Who knew a change in clothing would have such an effect? Even Wei Ying is impressed. When it’s time to go, he makes sure he bends over very obviously when he tugs on socks and shoes at the door.

There’s a clatter as a glass falls into the sink. Wei Ying hides a grin as he straightens up and tosses a wave over his shoulder.

The thing about bike riding is…

…actually, it kind of sucks.

He remembers biking around campus when he was at university and he biked to school sometimes when he was younger. He and Jiang Cheng liked to goof around, and sometimes it involved biking around the lane outside their houses.

Biking in the middle of rush hour when he’s going to have to take a shower, change, and be ready to work in time is awful. He spends the whole day with an ache building up in his hamstrings and nearly cramps up in the middle of a useless meeting and then he still has to bike home.

After stowing the bastard of a transportation device, he hauls himself up the stairs, well aware that if he stops moving, he will stiffen up. By the time he’s at their front door, he feels a bone deep exhaustion that even seeing Lan Zhan can’t quite alleviate.

Inside, he dumps his backpack and toes off his shoes and pushes his socks down his feet, only bending over at the last second to get them off all the way. “Lan Zhan?” he calls, but there’s no response. Annoyed, he grabs his work clothes from his bag, frowns at how wrinkled they got in his backpack, and pulls his phone from one of the pockets. There are a few text messages waiting for him.

They’re from Lan Zhan.

>> I will be back later this evening than expected.
>> But I have put in an order for delivery. It should be there about half an hour after you normally get home.
>> If that will be a problem with your new routine, let me know.

Though he’s sad to know Lan Zhan isn’t here, he feels warmed by Lan Zhan’s thoughtfulness. Before Wei Ying can compose a reply, there’s a buzzing sound from the intercom. Wei Ying leans on the wall, still tired, and rings them in, saying he’ll come down to the lobby to meet them.

The food is delicious, steaming hot and perfect as Wei Ying unboxes it. The only unfortunate part is the fact that Lan Zhan isn’t here to enjoy it with him. Still, he takes a photo and sends it over, thanking Lan Zhan for the treat.

<< Everything alright otherwise?
>> Everything is fine. I’m just spending the evening with my brother.

Ah. Though it’s been a while, he used to visit Huan-ge all the time when they were younger, especially when he was feeling uncertain or overwhelmed. He hopes that’s not the case tonight.

<< Give Huan-ge my well-wishes.

There’s a long pause before Lan Zhan replies. Wei Ying tries not to feel like the silence is pointed, but he can’t entirely help it.

>> Thank you, Wei Ying. He hopes you are also well.
>> Enjoy the meal. I will see you tonight if I’m back before you go to bed.

Wei Ying had a bad habit of chewing on things when he was younger. He’d gotten better about it, saving many a pen top and pencil eraser from getting bitten to nubs, but he still occasionally draws his lower lip between his teeth. It’s only when he feels a sharp sting that he realizes he’s torn a flake of skin from the corner of his mouth, leaning on that old bad habit. He tongues the blood away and wonders if he pushed Lan Zhan too far too fast.

He eats standing in the kitchen, sweat gritty against the back of his neck and his scalp, not wanting to waste the fact that everything is hot now by going to shower first. The bike shorts feel too constricting without Lan Zhan there to look at them, the shirt, ridiculous. It definitely feels pathetic in a way it hadn’t felt this morning, a little cruel.

When he’s done eating, he portions out the leftovers into a few of the containers Lan Zhan bought for their place when they moved in together. He’s always liked them for that reason, the warm reminder of why they were purchased to begin with.

He showers, stretches, and throws his biking shirt and shorts into the tiny washing machine tucked into the corner of their bathroom. When he’s done, he turns on one of the documentaries he and Lan Zhan would maybe have watched if he was here, but it’s not the same, so he turns it off and scrolls through Weibo and hopes to find something worth wasting his evening with.

It isn’t meant to be. There’s nothing of interest there, though that doesn’t stop him from continuing to click on random links, read articles, and boggle at the comment sections of various posts. The trending tags are boring. Everything about it is boring.

When the washing machine is done, he hangs his outfit.

At nine, he accepts that Lan Zhan’s probably not coming home tonight. Huan-ge will no doubt make up a bed for him and he’ll just take the train in. Wei Ying ought to go to bed, knowing there’s nothing to look forward to. It would be good anyway, to go to bed early for once. He’s exhausted from work anyway.

As expected, Lan Zhan isn’t home when Wei Ying wakes up in the morning. Wei Ying makes his own breakfast, not really tasting any of it as he stands on the balcony. Since he bought them, he wears the outfit again, repacks his backpack with a fresh set of work clothes, underwear, water, and lunch, and heads out the door. It’s far less fun today than it was yesterday when the high of having gotten Lan Zhan’s attention getting him through the rows and rows of traffic, the exhaust, the honking of car horns and derogatory shouts about how this, that, and the other driver is an idiot.

It’s even worse when a taxi suddenly cuts into the tiny slice of the road that Wei Ying had anticipated being able to use. He’s not quick enough to break with out banging his shin against the corner of the bumper. It would be fine, or at least just result in a bruise, if the corner of said bumper wasn’t dented, a little rusty, and split sharply enough to cut open Wei Ying’s skin.

After a shouted conversation, a call to his boss, and a trip to the hospital later, Wei Ying is ready to call it a wash. Unfortunately, he still has work to do, so he hauls his ass in after hiring a car to drive him, leaving the bike safely locked in one of the bike stands by the hospital. Though he considers asking Lan Zhan to meet him, a strong presence at his side as he hobbles along, he doesn’t dare. It would be too shameless, even for him. Knowing Lan Zhan would be guaranteed to fuss over him, it’s a nice thought while also being the worst possible thing for him.

His heart can’t take such things, he doesn’t think, not when he’s already grown so used to Lan Zhan’s attention being so fully on him like this. Having even more of it would be greedy. Pathetic. Sad. He’s better than taking advantage of Lan Zhan’s kindness in that way.

He works. It sucks. He gets off work. That sucks, too.

By the time he’s taken a taxi—different driver thankfully—to get his bike, he’s exhausted. His leg throbs and he feels gross from not being able to wash well in the showers at work without getting the bandage wet. It’s miserable.

Worse, it starts raining as soon as he steps out of the taxi, and the taxi driver argues that he won’t haul a bike in his car. Fine. He’ll bike home. It’ll be okay. Great, even. Within a handful of painful steps, he’s already soaked through, but that’s okay.

At least there’s less traffic on the road with all the bad weather. Eventually, he arrives home.

Locking the bike up in the underground garage, he drips his way to the elevator, limping the whole way. As it climbs toward his floor, he studies his reflection in the dingy metal door.

The bandage has, unfortunately, soaked through and a rivulet of bloody water is running into his sock.

The apartment is empty when he arrives, a fact for which he is grateful because he’s able to shower, change the dressing, and put on a pair of joggers without Lan Zhan ever being the wiser. By the time he does arrive, stepping inside with a guilt-ridden expression, Wei Ying is almost able to pretend he feels normal.

“Hi, Lan Zhan,” he says, waving from the couch. He holds up a styrofoam box, food still steaming away inside. “You want some takeout?”

“Your face is pale,” Lan Zhan says immediately, ruining Wei Ying’s attempt at subtly keeping Lan Zhan in the dark about his injury. “Why is your hair wet?”

Because I couldn’t stand up in the bathroom long enough to avoid wanting to chop my leg off. “I didn’t feel like drying it.”

Under Lan Zhan’s scrutiny, Wei Ying squirms and accidentally bumps the wound against the coffee table. Pain shoots up his leg, too quick to hide.

“Did you get injured?” Lan Zhan asks. “Was it because of the bike?”

“Why are you home so early anyway?” Wei Ying asks, clutching the container to his chest. When he checks his phone, it’s only a little after six. He must hot have done any overtime at all. Unusual for him. Unusual for them both. “How was your brother?”

Lan Zhan stares, blinks, continues to stare. “I decided to come home on time,” Lan Zhan answers. “My brother is fine. Wei Ying, what happened?”

Before Wei Ying can answer any of Lan Zhan’s questions, Lan Zhan sits next to him and too swiftly pulls up the joggers. At least the bandage still looks neat. The rest of Wei Ying doesn’t know what to do with Lan Zhan being that close to his leg hairs.

“Wei Ying,” he says. “How did it happen?”

Sighing, Wei Ying scrunches back into the couch and pushes his legs out beneath the coffee table where his water and the remotes for the TV live. Lan Zhan would normally complain about him making the couch damp, but so far he says nothing about it. He mumbles, “Kinda hit a taxi that pulled in front of me. Their bumper cut my shin.”

Lan Zhan’s expression frosts over.

“Obviously, I went to the hospital. It was a little rusty. I got a shot and a few stitches.”

Again, somehow Lan Zhan finds a new depth of chill to descend to. Wei Ying’s almost certainly going to develop frost bite if he’s not careful. But of course now that Lan Zhan’s here, that’s the last thing he wants to do.

Being careful is for other people, people who lack Wei Ying’s boldness. In this instance, it might be more truthful to say it’s for the kind of people who don’t really need to cajole a guy into celibacy to ask him out. But Wei Ying isn’t interested in being truthful. He’s bold and not careful and wants to make the scowl on Lan Zhan’s face deepens. “Gege, it hurts,” he says, because if he annoys Lan Zhan enough, Lan Zhan won’t bother with him.

“That should be expected,” Lan Zhan replies, “when someone gets cut off trying to pointlessly ride a bike to work.”

Wei Ying pouts, but Lan Zhan isn’t moved even a little bit. “Lan Zhan, don’t blame me. I really wasn’t trying to cause trouble. I just wanted to…”

“Let me see,” Lan Zhan says, tone brooking no argument. He’s already kneeling next to Wei Ying’s raised leg.

“Hey! You—” Though Wei Ying tries to evade, he’s unable to move easily. Lan Zhan has his ankle before he can do more than wince. “Ouch. Lan Zhan, come on. Don’t be so rough with me.”

Lan Zhan rolls up his joggers, and to be entirely fair to him, he is gentler, fingers light over his shin, palm warm as it carefully cups his calf. “Wei Ying, what was the point of this?”

“I…”

Eyes raised, Lan Zhan asks, “Did you really want to start biking to work?”

Wei Ying’s stomach flutters, twisting in on itself as he looks at Lan Zhan in return. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s healthy. The subway’s always crowded…”

“Wei Ying.”

“I look good in black, don’t you think?”

“You say that as though you don’t always wear black,” Lan Zhan replies, voice quiet. He continues to touch Wei Ying’s leg, far more intimate than the touch Wei Ying is used to. “Wei Ying, you should be more careful.”

“I am careful,” Wei Ying answers. “Lan Zhan, I really wasn’t goofing around on the road. It was just an accident.”

“I would rather not see you harmed. I wasn’t even here to help you. Why didn’t you call me?”

Wei Ying swallows. He’d thought about it. Of course, he thought about it, but Lan Zhan has to work, too. He has his own life. Wei Ying can handle these things. It’s his own fault that this happened. He doesn’t have to make things more difficult for Lan Zhan. But he doesn’t know how to say any of that. “It wasn’t a big deal, really.”

“Are you going to keep biking to work?”

“Not until I heal up, I guess.”

Lan Zhan’s lips thin. He finally releases his hold on Wei Ying’s leg. “Let me make some tea. Do you need a compress or anything else while I’m up?”

Lan Zhan must be really concerned for him. Though he’s always conscientious, he usually isn’t quite this likely to hover. He doesn’t randomly make tea for Wei Ying or ask if there’s anything Wei Ying would like to have while he’s up and around. “I’m good, thank you.”

But when Lan Zhan returns with tea for both of them, he’s brought a few of the candies Wei Ying likes as well, the ones Lan Zhan usually tells him he shouldn’t eat as frequently as he does. He unpeels the wrappers and holds his palm open to Lan Zhan. Even more of a shock, he takes one and then shoves it into his mouth, chewing viciously.

“You really don’t have to worry about me, Lan Zhan.”

“Don’t do such dangerous things then,” Lan Zhan replies, only after he’s swallowed.

“The biking outfit was nice though, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not funny, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan takes a prissy sip of his tea. “What would I have done if you’d gotten hurt even worse?”

“Been the prettiest nursemaid I could ever have found, of course.” Though it would have been easier to kick at Lan Zhan’s ankle, the best he can do is an awkward punch to the shoulder. “You wouldn’t have gotten rid of me that easily, no way. I’m not that careless.”

“I don’t think the world cares about such things.” He looks over at Wei Ying. “I am glad you’ll be okay.”

In the morning, he goes back to his usual habits, waking up as late as possible. It still hurts to walk and he feels awkward as he limps around, unable to put all his weight onto it, and it’s definitely bruised, but it’s manageable. He doesn’t relish the thought of walking to the subway station, but he will do it.

He definitely dresses in his loosest set of work clothes and pretends like he doesn’t see Lan Zhan in the living room judging him as he eats his breakfast. “Let me get you something,” he says. Then, “Sit down, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying would argue, but he’s a cad and kind of likes Lan Zhan doting on him in this way. As he waits, he takes a bite from Lan Zhan’s bowl of porridge, and hums affectionately. The flavor is so bland, but he likes it because Lan Zhan likes it. When Lan Zhan tries to take the spoon from him, he holds onto it. “Take the fresh one,” Wei Ying says. “Wouldn’t want you to eat off a dirty spoon.”

Lan Zhan glares at him and before Wei Ying can stop him, he takes back the spoon and dips it into his porridge before sticking it into his mouth. It’s so unnecessarily stubborn that Wei Ying has to laugh. “Lan Zhan, come on. What if you get my germs now?”

Leaning in, Lan Zhan continues to look at him. Then, his gaze drags down Wei Ying’s body to settle on his clothed leg. “I don’t think getting hit by cars is contagious. It’s fine.”

It’s baffling is what it is, but as he digs into his own porridge, more highly doctored than Lan Zhan’s by far, he can’t help but feel pleased by it, too.

It’s almost like they’ve kissed, from a certain point of view.

If he thought Lan Zhan hovered before, it’s nothing to how he is after the accident. Suddenly, he’s always there, and worse: Wei Ying likes it. Within a few days, he’s already grown used to Lan Zhan coming home early and texting him to say that he should let Lan Zhan know when he’s on his way. Inevitably, it’s later than Lan Zhan would like, which leads to really interesting situations where Wei Ying finds himself helplessly endeared by the grumpy, possessive way Lan Zhan moves through their life together, evenings suddenly sacrosanct.

Wei Ying, to be entirely honest, likes it when he’s grumpy and possessive. If he didn’t actually prefer being at home with Lan Zhan, he’d maybe stay at work later just to tweak Lan Zhan a little. Unfortunately for him, he wants to spend as much time with Lan Zhan as possible, which means forgoing giving Lan Zhan a hard time. His boss doesn’t love it either, but his boss can deal with it.

Anyway. It’s like suddenly all of Lan Zhan’s excess energy, the energy he’s no doubt put into other men all this time, is being poured into Wei Ying. But since they’re not having sex—not having sex yet, Wei Ying tells himself, he’s no quitter—it’s all belligerent instead of sexy.

Or, for Wei Ying, it’s still sexy, because everything Lan Zhan does is sexy and always will be, because Wei Ying imprinted early on the sound of Lan Zhan’s voice when he’s being cranky at Wei Ying about something. Even before he understood he liked Lan Zhan that way, he was probably subconsciously thinking about how attractive he found it.

So Lan Zhan pestering him about what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, whether his leg is healing well and if he’s eaten enough nutritious food to help his body compensate, it’s all exactly what Wei Ying has always wanted.

At Lan Zhan’s behest, they resume watching documentaries together. Wei Ying knows it’s at least partly because he wants Wei Ying to sit down, but who cares, really? Lan Zhan wants him to watch a documentary? He’ll watch a documentary.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says as they sit next to one another. He hands over the remote. “Something to fiddle with, if you’d like.”

“Huh?” He stares at the TV and realizes he hasn’t paid it the slightest bit of attention to it. He’s not sure how long they’ve been watching it either.

“You seem nervous,” Lan Zhan explains, at which point Wei Ying notices he’s been fidgeting. It’s not unusual for him, of course, but it’s usually not bad enough for Lan Zhan to make an effort to fix it for him.

“No,” Wei Ying replies. “Not nervous. Just…” He twirls his hand in the air. “…a lot of energy, I guess.”

Again, Lan Zhan stares at him so intensely that Wei Ying can feel it crawling around under his skin. He wishes desperately then that Lan Zhan would just do something already. It doesn’t even have to be something amazing. He just wants something.

He should be happy that it’s working, his mad plan to get Lan Zhan to see him, but he is, rather shockingly, not in the slightest bit prepared for the consequences of all this attention. How any of the guys Lan Zhan has been with have survived is entirely beyond Wei Ying’s understanding.

“You’ll have to do something about that,” Lan Zhan says drily. Under his words, there’s the implication that he could do something about it if not for the bind Wei Ying has put them in. It’s not censorious, but it is mocking in a way that makes Wei Ying want to squirm in an entirely different fashion. Lan Zhan has grown too bold.

That means Wei Ying has to step up, too, right?

“Maybe I will,” Wei Ying says, “at the end of the month.”

The corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth turns up at the corner. It’s not quite a smile, but it is at least partially amused. Wei Ying, despite feeling ridiculous, preens under the implication of it. He’ll never not enjoy being the one to make Lan Zhan smile, especially since he only ever used to make Lan Zhan mad back when they were in school. Though Lan Zhan returns his attention to the documentary, Wei Ying feels sure he knows what Lan Zhan means with such an expression.

He hopes Wei Ying will.

“Would you like to go out with me?” Lan Zhan asks, somehow sneaking up so thoroughly on Wei Ying that Wei Ying had no idea he’d shown up. Beyond the shock of Lan Zhan’s sudden arrival, it’s a brisk Sunday morning and Wei Ying’s standing on the balcony with tea and a sunny disposition, thinking for once that everything feels nice and normal. He’s not ready for the question Lan Zhan asks.

He nearly drops the mug over the edge of the balcony, only rescuing it at the last minute by spinning around. It tips precariously. In truth, the attempt to rescue it isn’t entirely successful. Half the contents spill onto his joggers. But at least nobody is getting struck in the head by a ceramic mug, and at least it hasn’t shattered on the concrete.

Eyes wide, Lan Zhan steadies the mug with one hand underneath it and one hand on Wei Ying’s elbow. “Apologies,” Lan Zhan says. “Are you alright?”

“The tea was cold,” Wei Ying answers. “Just… ha. Head was in the clouds. I should go change.” Though he doesn’t want to, he slips out of Lan Zhan’s grasp.

As he cleans up, he thinks about what Lan Zhan said, and knows his words didn’t mean quite what he wants it to mean. If he meant it how Wei Ying wants him to mean it, he wouldn’t have said it so casually. He shouldn’t have reacted so bizarrely about it. All he has to do is remain calm in the face of Lan Zhan’s provocative question.

When he returns, he keeps his tone light. “I’d love to go out,” he says with a smile. “What are we going to do?”

“The weather is nice this morning,” Lan Zhan replies. “I thought we could take a walk in the park.”

It sounds romantic, walking with Lan Zhan in November. Though it’s warm for the time of year, he imagines the both of them bundled up together. They could hold hands, and Wei Ying would definitely take advantage of the chance to snuggle close and act cute. They could pretend they’re a real couple, and not just old friends caught in a childish game.

On second thought, maybe this is a terrible idea, but Lan Zhan is smiling at him, that soft, pleased little smile he gets sometimes when Wei Ying has done something he particularly enjoys, so he can’t walk it back.

For about five blissful minutes, he thinks it’ll be okay. Though there are a lot of people at the park, it’s mostly families taking advantage of the warmth to wear their children out in the sun. Wei Ying distracts himself watching all the chubby toddlers racing around, helping him forget the somewhat romantic connotations of a walk in the park. “Lan Zhan, look!” he says, pointing at a pair of kids in fluffy little parkas. One of them is struggling to get out of it, an older woman who keeps chasing the kid around, insisting he’ll catch a chill from the breeze. “They’re so cute.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says agreeably. The smile is still fixed there, but there’s something wistful about it. “Have you thought about having kids?”

“Who hasn’t?” Wei Ying replies. All most people want to talk about are kids and having them and when you’re going to have them and how soon you should have them if you’re not thinking about it yet. But truthfully, Wei Ying has thought about it, too, especially after he became designated in Wen Ning’s family as babysitter-cum-fun gege for his cousin, A-Yuan. “Have you?”

“Of course.”

“You’d be such a good father.” With a child, he’d be gentle and caring and he’d always do what’s best for them. He’d treat them with kindness, but he’d probably also be strict in a way they could understand. Wei Ying’s heart swells to consider it and swells further when he imagines the two of them parenting a child together. “Do you want them?”

This question, Lan Zhan considers for a long time. “I don’t know that such a thing is likely to happen for me, but perhaps if the right person came along, I would want that.”

Who’s the right person, Wei Ying wonders. I hope it’s me. “Perhaps the right person is just around the corner.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan agrees. “Perhaps he is.”

Though Wei Ying’s heart twinges, he shores up his courage. In less time than he might have thought possible, he’ll attempt to progress their relationship in a new direction. He can see the shape of the happiness they would share.

As they continue walking, Wei Ying can’t stop thinking about it, the tangle of want for the domestic side of things, family, walks, cute time together, and the filthy things that haunt his imagination, even just by sound. He knows Lan Zhan fucks hard enough to make his partners shout out, sometimes hard enough to shake the bed against the wall, sometimes enough to make the other guy cry. He imagines when he’s not concerned about having his roommate overhear that he does worse—at least, that’s Wei Ying’s hope.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, dragging his attention out of the mud.

“Yeah?” he asks, hoping he sounds calm and not like he’s been daydreaming raunch in a park with his best friend, roommate, and future conqueror.

“Did you hear me?”

He is, he thinks, starting to feel the strain of not jerking off. “Uh, no. Sorry. My mind is off wandering again. What was it you were saying?”

“Would you like some tea?” Lan Zhan points at a shop across the road. Bubbly, bright-colored letters announce that they serve milk tea.

“Lan Zhan, are you trying to spoil me?”

“I can make you take half sugar if you’ll feel better about it,” Lan Zhan offers teasingly. Nobody else would be able to tell, but Wei Ying can. That makes them special, doesn’t it? He suppresses a shiver. Lan Zhan should stop him from getting full sugar, he thinks, far too fond of Lan Zhan and his stodgy ways.

“I will,” Wei Ying says. He could make Wei Ying take no sugar and he’d be happy.

“You didn’t get to finish your tea this morning,” he explains, as though Wei Ying is in need of an explanation for why he’s being spoiled even in such a small way.

“You’re right. This is what you get for making me wear it instead.”

The corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth lifts in a smug little expression as they make their way across the small road separating the row of shops from the park proper. There’s a short line of customers waiting to order. Above the register, there are several digital displays offering myriad options for their perusal. All of the options look delicious. “Lan Zhan, which one should I have? They all sound good.”

He’s not precisely sure what he’s asking for until Lan Zhan says, “You want me to decide for you?”

He does want that, though he can’t explain why exactly he wants it, beyond that he wants Lan Zhan to be in charge of what they’re doing. “Too many options,” he says. “I put myself into Lan Zhan-gege’s capable hands.”

Wei Ying expects Lan Zhan to roll his eyes or otherwise express his annoyance with Wei Ying’s behavior, but instead he nods somberly and studies the board as though he’s going to be tested on it. By the time they make it to the front of the line, Lan Zhan is confident in his choice, ordering jasmine tea for himself and lychee milk tea—full sugar, he must have decided to be nice—for him.

Once they’ve retrieved their orders, they finish a loop of the park and begin walking back to the apartment, slow and reluctant.

“What is it?” Wei Ying asks, but Lan Zhan merely shakes his head and comes to stand next to Wei Ying.

“Nothing,” Lan Zhan replies. “Thank you for accompanying me.”

Wei Ying wrinkles his nose. “Don’t be so weird, Lan Zhan.”

As though their walk sets a precedent, Lan Zhan starts inviting him other places. They do wind up going to dinner together a few times. They visit a museum Wei Ying has been wanting to check out. Their evenings, instead of being filled with hours of documentaries, wind up packed with walks around the neighborhood when they aren’t out doing other things. All the while, Lan Zhan treats them like dates.

Wei Ying doesn’t dare ask if they are. He’s bold, but he’s not that bold. And to hear that they’re not would be too painful.

Wei Ying gets so used to these nebulous date-like events that when Lan Zhan asks if they can stay in and watch a movie, Wei Ying is both disappointed and a little concerned. As much as he enjoyed the time they spent talking and watching documentaries, he’d liked having other ways to discharge his excess energy than fidgeting on his corner of the couch. If they stay in, Wei Ying will become too clear a source of distraction.

“Sure,” he says anyway, because he would never in his life deny Lan Zhan anything.

If he knew now what he’ll know in an hour, he’ll wish he’d done otherwise. Beg off. Say he’s not feeling well. Do anything other than fidget exactly like he has expected he would. He blurts out commentary as they watch and winces when he realizes it has to be annoying to Lan Zhan, especially if he’s interested in it, which… why would he want to watch something if he’s not interested?

Then again, if he is that interested in it, he probably shouldn’t have invited Wei Ying to watch it, too.

“Wei Ying,” he murmurs, when Wei Ying keeps fussing over the throw pillow in his lap, another one of those things Lan Zhan picked up to give Wei Ying something to do with his hands that doesn’t involve disrupting the movie with a quick, tedious scroll through his phone. His hand wraps around Wei Ying’s wrist and squeezes. “Be still.”

His request does not sound like a request.

Wei Ying does as asked. He’s not sure what would happen if he didn’t.

It is, however, difficult to do. Not because he’s bored, but because Lan Zhan is being bossy. And when he’s being bossy, Wei Ying feels the same way he hopes Lan Zhan felt when he dressed in those biking shorts for the first time: provoked.

When he didn’t get this about himself, he simply challenged it. Once he did figure it out, he still challenged it, but he knew what it was and why he liked it.

He desperately wants to challenge Lan Zhan now, but it might not be wise. The tension between them is rather thick, and he’s sure Lan Zhan can feel his quickening pulse beneath his thumb. Even Wei Ying can tell that it might snap at a moment’s notice. The part of him that isn’t interested in being wise thinks, fuck it. “Or what,” falls from his lips before he’s truly considered the consequences of his actions.

Lan Zhan turns, pins him with a glare, and then pins him with his body braced over Wei Ying’s. His long, elegant fingers form a vice around his wrists. Like this, the armrest of the couch digs into Wei Ying’s forearm, uncomfortable and arousing at the same time, especially with Lan Zhan’s legs bracketing his hips. Lan Zhan’s eyes are wide and wild and beautiful.

It would be so easy to give into temptation, use whatever leverage he can get and kiss Lan Zhan senseless right here and now, their bodies grinding together to completion, a mess spilled between them with a little over a week left to go until they can claim the arbitrary prize Wei Ying is putting on offer.

“Behave,” Lan Zhan says, daring.

Make me, Wei Ying thinks. If anyone could, it’s Lan Zhan. Nobody could want to be tamed by Lan Zhan more than Wei Ying. They’d be so perfect together. Make me, make me, make me.

He begins to harden at the thought.

But Lan Zhan doesn’t make him. In fact, he simply leans back on his haunches before abandoning the couch altogether. He tells Wei Ying it’s late—it’s not late—and that he’s tired—Wei Ying has never seen him so keyed up before. “Do you need the bathroom for a few minutes?” Lan Zhan asks. “I’d like to shower before bed.”

Wei Ying says no, he’s fine, bathroom is free, do what you need to do, Lan Zhan. As Lan Zhan showers, he throws his arm over his face and groans, stretching his legs out before him to ease the pressure in his jeans. It doesn’t help. Why does Lan Zhan have to be so attractive all the time? Shouldn’t Wei Ying find it annoying that he’s so bossy and domineering?

His hand gets as far as the waistband of his jeans when the bathroom door opens up. Lan Zhan pops his head into the living area, hair dripping into the towel around his neck, and says it’s free if Wei Ying needs it. He definitely needs it now, body throbbing with desires he can barely contain.

The tiles, though they’ve been wiped clean of water, are cold when he steps under the shower head. He is charmed beyond belief at how obvious Lan Zhan is.

Fondness bursts to life within him, sweet and happy. Lan Zhan is the best, even when he’s giving Wei Ying such a massive amount of trouble. As he calms himself down—physically and mentally—his mind wanders again to the dream of the life they could have together, all the dates they could go on, all the things they could do. Lan Zhan would take him on overnight trips to the beach. He’d make Lan Zhan let him bury him in the sand, Wei Ying’s very own treasure to hide. Lan Zhan wake Wei Ying up early when he tries to sneak out of bed without rousing Wei Ying. Wei Ying would pull him back into the skin-warmed nest they’d made in the night.

They’d be exactly like they are now, except happier, closer. Lan Zhan wouldn’t have to go out and find a partner for the night, never growing closer to anyone, because he’d have Wei Ying.

The spray chills him, but as he dries himself, he feels warmed by the possibility of being the one to take the towel from Lan Zhan’s hand and press it to his skin, squeeze the water from his hair, use the blow dryer on the long, soft strands of his hair.

That would be very nice, he thinks.

When he leaves the bathroom, the door to Lan Zhan’s room is already closed up tight. No sound comes from within it.

Wei Ying wakes to find himself rutting against his bed, images of Lan Zhan doing all sorts of things to Wei Ying flooding his mind with filth and his body with such visceral pleasure he can’t help crying out as his hips roll, the mattress a stiff counterpoint against his dick. His thoughts exist in that weird half-space between waking and sleeping, a place where he doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not.

He’s sweaty and hot and as he grinds into the bed, he feels so good, he can’t stand it.

If it’s not real, he doesn’t have to stop.

If it is—

A rough knock sounds on his door. “Wei Ying, there’s a problem,” Lan Zhan says through it, forcing awareness on him at the wrong moment entirely. The pleasure he’d been enjoying fizzles and dies, reality imposing itself upon him again. Punching his pillow in frustration, he says, “Damn it, Lan Zhan,” under his breath.

Careful to avoid touching himself directly, he settles boxers over his hips and loose fitting lounge pants over them.

It’s only when he steps into the hallway, ignoring his own body’s reaction, that he realizes there is a problem, an actual problem. He’s not just hot because of the dream he’d had. “It feels like a sauna out here. What time is it?” He wafts the collar of his t-shirt and wishes he hadn’t put on thick lounge pants. Then again, if he wasn’t wearing them, Lan Zhan would be getting an eyeful of something he has no reason to see yet. “What happened?”

“The building’s thermostat went haywire,” he replies. He looks wilted as he responds, hair hanging low over his forehead. Wei Ying opens his mouth to sympathize before realizing Lan Zhan’s wearing shorts, a tank top, and warm, sweaty skin. He deserves nothing, the villain. “A few hours ago. I was concerned you might dehydrate if you slept any longer. It’s past ten.”

Wei Ying swears under his breath. His gaze settles on Lan Zhan’s knee, which shouldn’t be a turn on, but he has to face it: Lan Zhan’s knobby knees are hot. They help hold up some stupidly beautiful legs. And, well, the shorts are short enough that Wei Ying’s eyes can trace the elegant curve of muscle that seriously define his inner thighs.

“You should drink some water,” Lan Zhan says. “Building maintenance is working as fast as possible, but they couldn’t give a reliable ETA.”

“They’d better work fast,” Wei Ying says, trailing Lan Zhan into the kitchen. “Where did you get that tank top anyway?”

Though the back of Lan Zhan’s neck is already red, his skin flushes an even deeper shade. When he turns around, he’s holding a glass of cold water and a wet cloth he’s pulled from the freezer out for Wei Ying. “Apologies,” Lan Zhan says. “It’s one of yours, I believe.”

Wei Ying chokes on a sip of water. Coughing, he looks at it again. It does fit a little differently than Lan Zhan usually favors, neckline low, generous arm holes that aren’t leaving much to the imagination. When Lan Zhan turns away again, Wei Ying catches sight of the small, dark round of his nipple. Has he seen Lan Zhan’s nipples before? Yes. Has he seen them when Lan Zhan’s doing his best to hide them? No. It’s an entirely different experience.

“I will wash it and return it to you,” Lan Zhan promises.

“Keep it,” Wei Ying says. He already knows if Lan Zhan gives it back it’ll turn into his jerk off shirt or something equally pathetic. “Looks good on you.”

He doesn’t ask the obvious questions: how did you get it and how long have you had it.

At this stage, it doesn’t feel like there’s any point in that.

The rest of the morning passes miserably. They fill some of the time by checking on their neighbors on their floor to make sure everyone is okay. When they’ve done that, they crowd together on their balcony, where at least some coolish air reaches them. Lan Zhan keeps telling him he should change into something more breathable, but Wei Ying keeps getting confronted with Lan Zhan’s nearly naked body. If he wants to keep his dignity, he has to continue wearing these.

“It’s indecent,” Wei Ying says when Lan Zhan’s finally pushed him far enough with his mother henning. “Lan Zhan, I’m losing it, here. You woke me up from the wettest dream I think I’ve ever had. You’re wearing nothing. I haven’t jerked off in, like, three weeks. I’m not going to strip down unless I’m actively dying.”

“You must be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be uncomfortable in shorts, too,” he says. He understands he’s whining now and pathetically so, but he doesn’t care now that he’s barely holding it together. He truly feels like he’s losing it, and all because of something like this. It feels impossible to him. He doesn’t even care that much about sex in general. If anyone should have been able to survive it, it’s him.

“You would at least not be overheating.”

Wei Ying snorts and looks out over the city. Their block isn’t in one of the more fashionable districts and they live on a floor too far down to see anything much more than the street and the sky, but at least it’s a reasonable distraction from what’s going on inside his brain. “Why are we even doing this?”

Until Lan Zhan answers, he doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud. “You thought it would be fun.”

“I’m an idiot,” he answers fiercely, letting himself lean heavily against the railing. “I just made things weird, and I don’t even know why.”

“You’re competitive,” Lan Zhan points out evenly. Why does he get to act so normal all of a sudden? Has he somehow accepted that he just has to hold out another week? Since when? Why does he get to be so lucky? Wei Ying wants to be that lucky, too. “I feel as though I haven’t helped the situation.”

“Lan Zhan…”

“I was not sensitive to the possibility that it would be trying for you, me having so many guests over. I’ve had a chance to reflect and I feel as though I brought more than my fair share back. You’ve always been careful to keep a quiet space. I should have followed suit.”

“That’s not—what? You think that’s why I did this? Lan Zhan, it was a stupid bet to make you pay attention to me, not some scathing indictment of your prowess.” The toe of his slipper slides over the concrete. “It’s not like I’m actively looking for partners. The only reason I don’t bring anyone back is because I don’t want anyone except you.”

And there it is. He’s said too much. He’ll always and forever say too much.

Lan Zhan’s brow furrows. “Wei Ying…”

He pushes past Lan Zhan back into the stuffy, muggy, grossly overheated apartment. Because he’s already opened his mouth and let stupid words fall out, there’s no point hiding what he feels, so he goes and changes like Lan Zhan suggests. So what if he embarrasses himself with a bit of revealing clothing? He’ll be obvious either way.

By the time it’s fixed, the air is so still and heavy that it remains uncomfortable even once they’re not actively being toasted alive. Lan Zhan opens the sliding glass door, but it’ll take forever for the breeze to undo the damage. They go out and scour the stores closest to them for anything that might cool them down.

“You want the box fan?” Wei Ying asks as he puts away his coat. Lan Zhan’s busy unwinding a scarf from around his neck, looking far too placid for the sort of day they’ve had. “It’s gonna be miserable tonight.”

Lan Zhan reacts as though he’s only now realizing Wei Ying is there. “You should take it,” he answers. “I’ll be okay.”

Wei Ying blows out a breath and fights the urge to roll his eyes. It’s all well and good that Lan Zhan can act like nothing has changed, but Wei Ying is the one who bared his heart. There should be some fallout from that, right?

He’s always been better with confrontation. It’s the being ignored that gets under his skin and makes a mess of him.

“Fine,” he says, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything he’ll regret. “If you end up needing it, let me know, alright?”

“I will be fine, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan insists. “Rest well.”

Unbelievable, Wei Ying thinks, as he goes to take a quick shower, rinsing the day from his skin and wishing it was this easy to scour bad decisions from his memory, too. How can Lan Zhan just not react to a revelation like that? Does he think Wei Ying’s a joke or doesn’t mean it or maybe that he’ll get over his infatuation? Is he trying to protect Wei Ying from the fact that he doesn’t feel the same way? Is he mad at Wei Ying for confessing in such a haphazard manner? It could be any one of those things, or none of them at all.

The way Lan Zhan thinks, Wei Ying has never understood it, but he’s always believed the best about Lan Zhan and had that trust rewarded.

He must think it’s for the best that they pretend nothing out of the ordinary happened, so when he steps out of the bathroom, he feels better prepared to see Lan Zhan, to speak to him courteously. “Lan Zhan, there’s something I want to say.” As he squeezes the water from his hair, he wills himself to be more courageous. “I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. It’s not your problem, and I get that we should just forget about it. I’m totally in agreement. But I want you to know I’d never begrudge you anything, whether I have feelings for you or not. I just want you to be happy. You shouldn’t have to consider things from my perspective. I was just on edge from the heat, okay? Don’t take it to heart.” He swallows thickly and can’t meet Lan Zhan’s eyes. “Should we, uh…” Wei Ying gestures between them. “Stop? The game’s gone on long enough, hasn’t it?”

“What do you want to do?”

Well, he’s already looked enough like a fool to last a lifetime, so it really doesn’t make a difference to him. Rolling his shoulder, he says he’s still down for anything, but surely Lan Zhan has some reservations given Wei Ying’s whole thing. Feelings. Garbage-tier pining.

“I do not,” Lan Zhan is quick to reply. “Wei Ying, I—”

“Alright,” Wei Ying says, slipping past Lan Zhan so he can reach the door to his room, stopping himself from suggesting they do this now. “Then have a good night.”

“Good night, Wei Ying.”

“And if you want the box fan, it’s yours to liberate.”

“I will be fine.”

Waking up is a bitch. The heat clung to his room all night no matter how much air he circulated in the room, making it difficult to fall asleep, and when the heat wasn’t bothering him, his thoughts were. No matter how many times he tried to turn his thoughts to something else, they returned to Lan Zhan and his confession to Lan Zhan and how beautiful Lan Zhan is and how much he wants to be around Lan Zhan all the time and how Lan Zhan never actually turned him down, even though he ought to.

Needless to say, it’s impossible to sleep well.

Wei Ying leaves for work early, avoiding Lan Zhan as best he can instead of letting himself be seduced into sharing the breakfast Lan Zhan’s in the process of cooking. It’s difficult to manage when Lan Zhan calls for him as he slips into his shoes at the door, but he makes up a bullshit excuse about needing to catch up on work he missed from the day off he’d had to take for his leg. Lan Zhan insists it won’t take long and he needs to eat, but Wei Ying pretends he doesn’t hear and pretends he hasn’t turned into a coward and pretends he doesn’t want to stay here all day even with the heat clinging to him.

Coming home is even more difficult, because Lan Zhan is already there, meal nearly done, and he’s asking Wei Ying if they should watch another documentary, like things haven’t changed irrevocably already.

Nie Huaisang was right. If he wanted to fuck Lan Zhan, he should have just put himself out there the way the guys Lan Zhan sees have all done. Going through all this trouble has only ballooned into more trouble.

“I think I’m just gonna take a shower and head to bed,” Wei Ying tells him. “I didn’t sleep well.”

Lan Zhan’s gaze scans his face and down his body, taking in the whole of him. “You still need to eat. You’ll get an upset stomach if you don’t.”

Wei Ying should have made up a lie about having dinner with his team at work. That happens from time to time. “Lan Zhan…”

Lan Zhan’s gaze finally lowers to the floor. “Go enjoy your shower. I can leave a plate in your room if you like.”

Though Wei Ying should argue that it’s not necessary, he’s too tired to do so. A shower and some privacy sounds good to him, better than the alternative certainly. “Thanks, Lan Zhan.”

Wei Ying is drying his hair when he steps into his room. Lan Zhan is just about to leave and is apparently barely paying attention to what he’s doing, because he almost walks right into the wall of Wei Ying’s body. He looks so sad. That’s the first thing Wei Ying notices, further cementing Wei Ying’s belief that he shouldn’t have done any of this. It was never fair to Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “I’m sorry.” He winces as he says it. He’s so bad at apologizing. The words are too sappy, too small, for the regret that sits in his chest. “We can stop this whole thing. It was stupid to begin with.”

“It wasn’t,” Lan Zhan says, though there’s no emotion behind it, no verve in his defense of Wei Ying’s behavior. He can’t possibly believe Wei Ying wasn’t wrong. “I understand.”

There’s an underlying but there. Lan Zhan understands, but…

Wei Ying won’t ask.

“Wei Ying, I believe…” But Lan Zhan apparently can’t speak to what he believes. His hands settle over Wei Ying’s shoulders, pulling him in. They’re so warm, Lan Zhan’s palms. Wei Ying didn’t know they could be so warm. It’s soothing, how warm they are. Wei Ying could be reformed by those hands, remade in Lan Zhan’s image, whatever he wants Wei Ying to be, Wei Ying could become it. His lips, too, are warm, and they’re very soft, and they press against Wei Ying’s so insistently.

Wei Ying kisses back, drinks in the touch of Lan Zhan’s mouth to his, closes his eyes and breathes in the taste of Lan Zhan. For the span of four or five heartbeats, he lives in this world where he can kiss Lan Zhan whenever he likes. It’s a good world. It’s been the one he wants to live in for far longer than he can remember.

With a moan, he presses himself even closer to Lan Zhan, wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s trim, warm, perfect waist. His muscles are solid, smooth, dependable like Lan Zhan is dependable. Wei Ying can’t help but milk the moment for everything it’s worth.

It’s only when Wei Ying’s crotch presses to Lan Zhan’s that he remembers himself, what they are and what they can be to one another. He jerks back and pretends he doesn’t know what Lan Zhan feels like through two layers of thick fabric. His grows shy, face burning with shame. It’s not his natural state of being, this cowardly position he’s stuck himself in.

But Lan Zhan matters too much and he’s been so cavalier already. How can he not want to be more careful with him to make up for past transgressions?

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks. His lips are so, so pink and wet.

“Sorry,” Wei Ying replies. “That was—”

“I don’t want your apologies.” Lan Zhan’s voice is raspy. His hands, still on Wei Ying’s shoulders, squeeze, thumbs digging into Wei Ying’s collarbone. “I want…” But Lan Zhan’s never been great at saying what he wants either. He bites the inside of his cheek, dimpling the skin of his face and sighs and in the end he wants nothing more from Wei Ying. “Rest well.”

Once Lan Zhan has gone, he sits at his desk where Lan Zhan has placed the plate.

Lan Zhan’s hard work tastes like ash on his tongue, but it settles the churning of his gut.

Lan Zhan isn’t there when he wakes up and doesn’t come back after Wei Ying’s gotten ready for the day. He’s prepared to wait around until he’s back from wherever he’s gone. Possibly, he went for a run. On the weekends, he goes out pretty early to get his exercise in, but he’s usually back pretty quickly. Wei Ying would sit around all day if necessary, but Nie Huaisang messages him, asking if he’s free to meet up.

Though Wei Ying wants to be here when Lan Zhan comes back, he accepts that he doesn’t have to speak with Lan Zhan right away about this issue. Though it feels urgent, it doesn’t actually mean it’s urgent.

So he meets up with Nie Huaisang at a coffee shop a few blocks away from his and Lan Zhan’s apartment and tells himself it’s a good thing for him to get out of the house.

“So?” Nie Huaisang asks, fussing with his phone as he settles in across from Wei Ying. Wei Ying can only imagine he’s got a network of informers in there, all of them feeding him the gossip on which he sustains himself. It’s the only reason Wei Ying can think of to explain how he always seems to know everything even when he’s not actively invested in the situation. “Have you succumbed to the siren’s lure of Lan Zhan’s body yet?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Wei Ying answers, “but no. We’re actually following through on our agreement.” So far, he adds mentally. Not that I’m holding him to it any longer. Surely, it’s only a matter of time before Lan Zhan sees sense and goes back to doing as he likes.

“Oh, yeah? That’s great news. Only, what, a week left then? Less than that?” Nie Huaisang says agreeably, like it actually matters to him whether this works out the way it’s supposed to. Checking his phone’s calendar, he nods, “Only six days, nice.” He leans in, letting himself look suspicious as hell as he sips his coffee. “You’re really going to do it then?”

Wei Ying squirms and stirs his own drink with the tiny straw that came with it. That’s really the question at this point, isn’t it? If he were Lan Zhan, he’d be put off by Wei Ying’s outburst. And Wei Ying…

“Looks like it,” he answers, hoping it doesn’t give anything away. Nie Huaisang nods agreeably enough, as though any of this makes sense, and gestures for Wei Ying to drink.

“What are you going to do after that?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“Probably go back to how things were. It would be for the best, I think. We’re pretty good at the status quo.” Or we were, before I got it into my head to seduce him.

“What happened to the Wei Ying who started all of this?” Nie Huaisang asks, shaking his head rather dramatically. “He was confident he’d get his man.”

That Wei Ying has suffered a massive number of indignities since then. Current Wei Ying doesn’t trust the man he was before. “Arrogant is probably the better term,” Wei Ying says. “Cringe-worthy.”

“I thought it was nice you’d decided to pursue him, and I bet he’d agree it was nice to be the one who was being chased for once.”

“That’s not really what’s been happening here.” In fact, Lan Zhan’s the one who’s put in a lot of effort. Cooking, sitting down and spending time with Wei Ying, asking Wei Ying to go out on little excursions with him. Wei Ying’s just been trying to make sure he doesn’t look foolish while he’s just trying to make it through the day. Compared to that, he’s done nothing at all. But Nie Huaisang isn’t wrong. Lan Zhan deserves to be chased, and Wei Ying obviously wants to be the one doing the chasing. He just doesn’t think Lan Zhan would be interested in that, not from Wei Ying anyway.

Otherwise, it would have happened already, right?

“So make it happen,” Nie Huaisang says.

Like it’s that simple. He can’t just will Lan Zhan to like him back. Again, he thinks, it’s arrogant. “I think it’s not going to be like how I thought it would be,” he says, sure he sounds more mature than he really feels under the circumstance. “It’s fine. Not everything has to work out.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyebrow crawls toward his hairline in disbelief. And sure, Wei Ying can see why he’d think that. The way Wei Ying acts is very much not in keeping with giving up like this, but he’s also not in the apartment with them, hasn’t spent those hours with Lan Zhan that Wei Ying has. If he did, he’d surely get that there’s not a whole lot to be done. They’ll fuck or they won’t. Things will go back to normal. They’ll both pretend they didn’t do something as dumb as this in the meantime.

“I don’t get it,” Nie Huaisang replies finally.

“That makes two of us.”

“No,” Nie Huaisang answers. “No, I get what you’re…” He gestures at Wei Ying, his hand making a little circle that seems like it’s supposed to fully encompass Wei Ying’s everything. “I get that. What I don’t get is why you’re not doing it anyway.”

“This isn’t something you can just inspire me to do, Huaisang. Come on.”

“Be scared, but do it anyway is a time-honored concept.”

“That doesn’t apply to fucking your roommate, I’m pretty sure, but even if it did, that doesn’t mean it’s good advice.”

“You are scared, though?”

Wei Ying scoffs. “Who wouldn’t be?” He sips the coffee he’s bought, buying himself time. “It wasn’t supposed to be as intense as it’s turned out to be. I thought I’d just flit through and get to tease him some and it would be fine.” But he wants so much more than fine now, wants to do more than tease. The physical strain has gotten to him in ways he never expected he’d experience, not when it normally never bothers him at all. “It’s not fine, though. It’s been weird and disruptive and I feel bad for ever having brought it up.”

Nie Huaisang stares innocently at him for a time.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Wei Ying presses. “It’s definitely weird.”

“Yeah, but what does Lan Zhan think about it? Isn’t that what matters?”

“Lan Zhan’s just going along with whatever I want like he always does. It doesn’t mean anything other than he’s willing to suffer my nonsense a little better than even I could have guessed. So what?”

“So I think that means something significant,” Nie Huaisang says.

“I think it means he likes me enough to go through with this whole scheme,” Wei Ying says. “That isn’t exactly lifelong commitment territory.”

Nie Huaisang nods sympathetically, even though he no doubt loves what he’s hearing. He’s always been one for gossip, and this is probably the best source he’ll get until New Years rolls around and the weird shit his older brother, Lan Zhan’s older brother, and some other guy he’s been told went to the same university as him stirs up. “Are you sure? It seems like a lot of trouble to go through for a hookup.”

“If it’s more than a hookup, why didn’t it happen sooner?” That’s always the thing he gets stuck on. If it was meant to be, it’s had so much time to happen naturally. Lan Zhan is not a man to avoid speaking out in situations when he wants something. Sure, it’s rare for him to want anything, but that just means he doesn’t want much, not that he’s hiding a serious truth somewhere.

“You don’t want to mess things up, right?”

“For whatever value of not messing things up has these days, sure. Yeah. I don’t want that, but it’s too late. I did mess it up. I’m the one who won’t be able to deal with it when he decides to go back to how things were before. I can’t… I can’t keep listening to him go with other men. If he doesn’t want me…” He realizes then what the truly worst part about all of this has been. If Lan Zhan only wants a fuck, Wei Ying can’t go back from that to what they were. He won’t be able to pretend he doesn’t care about Lan Zhan, that he doesn’t want Lan Zhan for himself. “I’m the one who messed it all up.” Nie Huaisang is probably right, maybe. “You’re right. I am scared.”

Nie Huaisang raises his hands in surrender. “I won’t argue with you further. You know what you’re comfortable with. If it’s not worth it to you, it’s not worth it.”

Though he should feel good about having convinced Nie Huaisang, he thinks maybe he’s lost something in the process. Who is he, that he would so easily give up? When has he ever given up on anything that mattered to him before?

Apparently, at a certain amount of ‘mattering,’ he turns chicken, not wanting to destroy something too precious in the process. And Lan Zhan is at that level for him. He doesn’t want to destroy what they have, but he can’t move forward even knowing that nothing can stay the same thanks to all the things he’s already done.

He’s stuck. And he needs to get unstuck.

“Thanks, Huaisang,” Wei Ying says when they’ve reached the bottom of their mugs. “I have some things to think about, don’t I?”

Nie Huaisang grimaces and offers an ironically raised fist. “Good luck.”

He goes for a bike ride to clear his head, working out the worst of his feelings while he dodges traffic. His leg doesn’t really hurt anymore, but he feels the sting of the wound on his shin more than he otherwise would have. He’s dressed in his normal clothing rather than the form-fitting shorts and shirt he’d bought and he doesn’t work very hard as he bikes, but he still winds up sweaty and no clearer on what he should do than he was before.

Be brave. Don’t be brave. It feels like none of the options are any good. Both leave him with the chance to cause hurt to himself or Lan Zhan. Both make him feel like a dick about what he’s done. If he could go back in time, he’d kick himself for his half-baked idea and wrestle him down until he saw fit to not do it.

When he gets home, Lan Zhan is out or in his room, which comes as a relief to Wei Ying when he immediately heads into the bathroom to take a shower. Though he normally wouldn’t, he lingers under the stream of water, thinking, thinking, thinking. Only at the end does he reach the conclusion he should just tell Lan Zhan the truth, that he can’t do this. Though he’s already confessed that he likes Lan Zhan, he doesn’t see this ending well for them when they don’t seem to want the same things. It would just prolong the pain and maybe make it so they can’t even be roommates.

He finally shuts off the water and walks across the floor to the small cabinet where they keep the towels. Usually, his own mingles with Lan Zhan’s and a pair of extras, but only Lan Zhan’s remains. The others must be in the wash or already line drying.

His room isn’t very far from the bathroom, just a short, diagonal shot across the hallway, but he hates the thought of dripping water. That and as soon as he opens the bathroom door, he hears the front door open and close. Lan Zhan quietly removes his shoes and places them on the rack. He walks toward the hallway, floorboards creaking. Normal sounds. Nothing to get worked up about except for how intimate and real they are.

A lump rises in his throat.

How could he have wanted to give this all up for the sake of a fuck? Even if Lan Zhan brought guys home every night, it should have been fine, because this is what matters, the fact that Wei Ying knows what it sounds like when Lan Zhan comes back, can picture it perfectly, the way he doesn’t even need to balance against the door when he bends over to remove his shoes, unlacing them fully instead of simply kicking them off. A fuck is worth so much less to him than that knowledge.

Slamming the bathroom door shut, he leans against it, heart beat pounding furiously as he thunks his head against the wall. He shouldn’t have dawdled. Now he’ll never make it out of here without using that fucking towel.

The hallway creaks as Lan Zhan approaches, no doubt intending to make his way toward his bedroom. “Wei Ying, is everything alright?”

No, of course it’s not. Nothing is alright at the moment. “Sorry, hand slipped while I was closing the door,” he calls through it. “Didn’t mean to slam it so hard.”

“I see.”

“Would you, uh. Is my towel or any of the other towels out on the balcony drying, do you know?”

“They are.”

Ugh. Of course they are. “Would you grab one for me?”

“You’re welcome to use mine,” Lan Zhan replies. “It should be folded in the cabinet already.”

He’s not going to crumble over a towel. He won’t. Even he has things he won’t do, and that is one of them, despite the tears threatening to prickle his eye, ones of frustration and ones of annoyance and ones of affection, too. Lan Zhan would give over anything to Wei Ying if only Wei Ying were to ask for it, but he’d also give anything to Wei Ying even when he wouldn’t.

He doesn’t know why he finds himself able to speak through the closed door when he’s had trouble saying anything of value this whole month, but as Lan Zhan’s step sounds out, a low, little groaning sound, Wei Ying calls out. “Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan stops, comes back. His voice sounds very close, very dear. “Yes?”

“Let’s give up on this stupid plan, huh?”

“Wei Ying?”

“There’s no point in waiting, right? Let’s just do it and get it over with, yeah?”

Lan Zhan says nothing for a painfully long stretch of seconds. “No.”

“No?”

“I would like to continue,” Lan Zhan replies, startling Wei Ying with the bluntness of his words, “unless you are ready to be done with it.”

It’s difficult for him to reply. Yes, of course he wants this to be over with. They’ve been hell, these vacillating thoughts of his. But he’s also rather enjoyed so much of it, the fact that he’s been the center of Lan Zhan’s attention in ways he’d never been before. Though it’s been confusing and a little painful, it’s also been good in so many ways. He’s not ready to let it go. “I…”

“We don’t need to take this any further, Wei Ying, regardless of the promises we made one another. I would not want you to do anything against your own wishes.”

But that’s not what this is about at all. Everything they’ve done has been to Wei Ying’s wishes. Wei Ying has started it. Wei Ying continued it. Lan Zhan has just been going along.

There’s a quiet knock against the door, as though Lan Zhan’s stepped forward and accidentally tapped his knuckle against it. “Do you know why I agreed to do this?”

Wei Ying almost laughs. It’s been so long since he’s understood any of the things Lan Zhan does. Of course he has trouble understanding. That’s half of what’s made this such a torment.

“I enjoyed the possibility of getting to be closer to you, Wei Ying. I thought this would be a good chance for us to reconnect.” Though it’s muffled, Wei Ying thinks he hears Lan Zhan sigh. “And it has been, whatever else you decide it is or was later.”

“Lan Zhan?”

“I suppose what I am trying to say is thank you,” Lan Zhan finishes.

This time, it’s Wei Ying who knocks his hand against the door, but it’s not entirely accidental. The frustration within him is so intense, boiling over that he has to do something, has to strike out in some way, even if it’s only his palm slapped lightly against a bit of wood, the only barrier separating him from Lan Zhan. “You can’t thank me,” Wei Ying says, because he was wrong and this whole thing is ridiculous. “Lan Zhan…”

But Lan Zhan doesn’t reply. In fact, when Wei Ying cracks open the door and peeks through it, Lan Zhan has retreated somewhere else, his bedroom maybe, or the kitchen. Wei Ying hadn’t been paying attention. He didn’t hear which way Lan Zhan’s steps retreated.

Annoyed, he yanks Lan Zhan’s towel out of the cabinet and wraps it around his waist, stomping into the hallway quickly and simply, only to run into Lan Zhan as he comes forward, Wei Ying’s towel and the spares folded neatly in his arms. Lan Zhan’s eyes fill with a panic that is uncharacteristic for him and he averts his gaze, ears blooming red.

“Sorry,” Wei Ying says. “I’ll make sure to do the laundry, I promise. Just—”

“No harm done,” Lan Zhan says quietly.

This is miserable, being like this with Lan Zhan. They’re best friends. That’s worth a great deal to Wei Ying. It’s worth more than the hurt he’s causing Lan Zhan to feel with his wishy washy feelings. He’s sorry for teasing Lan Zhan, for not understanding himself and all the ways he likes Lan Zhan better before he pulled this weird little stunt. “Lan Zhan, you really like me, don’t you?” Until he’s said it, he didn’t know that’s what he was going to say, but it strikes true, lands dead center mass. Lan Zhan’s expression shifts to one of surprise. “It wouldn’t just be a fuck for you.”

Lan Zhan swallows, his throat bobbing tantalizingly. He nods.

“How long?”

“A long time, Wei Ying.”

Though he keeps one hand wrapped tightly around the towel knotted around his waist, he darts in for a quick hug with the other, offering only the tiniest squeezes before letting go again.

“Me, too,” Wei Ying says.

After Wei Ying has dried off and dressed, he steps into the living room to find Lan Zhan sitting with a documentary on the television and a handful of snacks arrayed on the middle couch cushion. They’re Wei Ying’s favorites, of course, because Lan Zhan has always been conscientious in small ways and large.

Wei Ying demolishes them to fight the nerves battling within him, barely able to pay attention to what they’re watching. Even worse is when Lan Zhan reaches down and takes hold of Wei Ying’s legs, pulling them into his lap and curving his palms gently over his ankle. His hands are warm, making Wei Ying especially aware of how cold his feet must feel to Lan Zhan in return. Though the gesture isn’t inherently sexual, Wei Ying hardens anyway, tormented for long minutes as he stares at the side of Lan Zhan’s face and tries to figure out how he’s going to survive being with Lan Zhan if this is how he already is.

“How is your leg feeling?”

“Better.”

Wei Ying continues to stare at him; he can’t look away.

“Wei Ying, you should watch the documentary,” Lan Zhan replies, but Wei Ying doesn’t pay him any mind. Instead, he leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth.

It’s both the best thing he’s ever done and the worst, because Lan Zhan is able to fold him in half nearly as he presses Wei Ying into the couch and does his best to suck the breath from Wei Ying’s lungs. “Wei Ying,” he says, annoyed, turned on, rougher than the usual smooth, sweet tones of his voice. “You are perhaps the most frustrating person I’ve ever known.”

“Why are you insulting me when you could be kissing me?” Wei Ying points out. “The rules never said we couldn’t do that.”

Lan Zhan leans in, hair brushing Wei Ying’s cheek. It tickles, but Wei Ying stifles the reflex to laugh. It feels strange, to tease and know he gets to have this gentle, blooming thing together. “It was not an insult,” Lan Zhan says before capturing Wei Ying’s lips with his own.

He doesn’t surrender them until Wei Ying’s turned on so much that he doesn’t even think he’d need to touch himself to come. Even then, he’s reluctant. When Wei Ying pushes him away, panting, very obviously erect in the joggers he favors when he’s home, he merely looks smug.

Wei Ying pats down his clothing, moves his legs off Lan Zhan’s lap, breathes until he feels calmer. “You’re a menace.”

“You started it,” Lan Zhan says petulantly, an obvious bulge in his trousers, too.

Wei Ying can’t say he’s not delighted with Lan Zhan’s petulance. “So this is how it’s going to be, huh?”

Though it would be easier to avoid a potential loss by not touching one another, neither Wei Ying nor Lan Zhan know how to stop themselves. It becomes part of the game to them, seeing who can get the other closer to failing first. Wei Ying almost always loses, even though Lan Zhan’s the one who’s historically been the hornier fuck of the two of them, but Lan Zhan has to back out first often enough that Wei Ying still has incentive to play.

“I think you like doing this to me,” Wei Ying pouts as they separate, lips shiny and bruised, their skin rubbed raw by the slight prickling of stubble that starts to form on their faces toward the end of the day. The first thing they do at the end of the work day is make out against the door. “Gege is too shameless even by my standards. What am I supposed to do with him?”

“I think you like having me do it to you,” Lan Zhan replies, panting. His expression is sour, and he can’t meet Wei Ying’s eyes, presumably because contact, even only eye contact, would be too much.

Wei Ying grins and grabs onto Lan Zhan’s arm, hugging it close, pleased to live in a world where he can hug Lan Zhan as closely as he wants. “Only a few more days,” Wei Ying replies, as though that isn’t an eternity by his own and Lan Zhan’s standard. “Come on, we’ll watch TV or something. Another one of those documentaries we don’t even like that much anymore.”

Lan Zhan’s lips thin, but he nods sharply in agreement.

“Bet we could find some porn somewhere,” he says blithely as he guides Lan Zhan to the couch and sits him down, very carefully not sitting himself down on Lan Zhan’s welcoming lap. “Watch the human animal in his—”

Lan Zhan yanks him down by the wrist, sitting Wei Ying down right next to him. Lan Zhan’s body is warm, so warm. Wei Ying can’t stand it.

“I like you so much, Lan Zhan,” he says, leaning his head against Lan Zhan’s exquisite shoulder. “You’re the best. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone as good as you.”

Though Lan Zhan is piqued, his gaze softens as he looks over at Wei Ying and softens even more when Wei Ying clasps his hand. “You’re even better,” he replies, tangling their fingers together even though Wei Ying knows it’s a struggle for him to touch Wei Ying this way when he’s so easily turned on.

Wei Ying’s stomach twists in on itself as he watches Lan Zhan watching his watch, wrist lifted as he looks and looks at the dial, waiting. They’re both tired—or at least, Wei Ying assumes Lan Zhan is tired, he looks tired, though he’s pretty used to this time of night—as they wait for December first. Though they haven’t touched even once tonight by mutual agreement, Lan Zhan is already hard in the thin pajamas he’s slipped into and not a little wet and naked directly beneath the fabric if the hint of a wet spot on the crotch is any indication.

Wei Ying isn’t much better. To be truthful, he hasn’t done very well since the moment he stepped into Lan Zhan’s room. Nor before that. Honestly, the whole last week has been difficult.

“We’re never doing this again,” Lan Zhan says. “If there’s anything we haven’t figured out about ourselves that not having sex will fix, I don’t want to know about it.”

Wei Ying covers his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Who is this man? And how did Wei Ying get lucky enough to know him? “Alright,” Wei Ying agrees readily. “We’ll go through life blissfully ignorant of the possibilities afforded by—”

“If you would like to be denied orgasms for a month,” Lan Zhan continues, so rudely interrupting Wei Ying, “I will gladly facilitate that. I don’t speak for myself though.”

An inferno of arousal bursts to life within Wei Ying. “L-Lan Zhan,” he says weakly, all the blood rushing away from his head as he vividly imagines all the ways Lan Zhan would do that to him. “You’re filthy.”

Lan Zhan says nothing.

Wei Ying gave up looking at his phone ages ago, ready to cry as the minutes until midnight slowed to a crawl. “How much longer anyway?”

“Perhaps that is how I’ll punish you for doing this to us,” Lan Zhan replies. Though not technically an answer to his question, it is an answer anyway: too damned long. “I won’t give you a choice. You’ll come when I let you and only when I let you.”

Lan Zhan’s a bastard who knows what he’s doing. Squirming, Wei Ying pretends the barest friction of his dick pressed against his joggers isn’t enough to get him off. He’s not even sure it won’t be. Just Lan Zhan’s voice is enough stimulation that he could see himself getting lost in it, embarrassing himself fully in the process. If he were Lan Zhan, he’d never let himself hear the end of it. “Lan Zhan, if you don’t want this to end before it’s even started…”

Lan Zhan looks over at him, then at his lap.

“Don’t you want this to last even a few minutes?” Wei Ying asks nervously. “Stop looking at me.”

“It will last,” Lan Zhan insists, “for me anyway.” His look is sly as he speaks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Wei Ying. “I find I don’t much care what happens to you while we’re together tonight.”

A pulse of arousal shoots through Wei Ying. What’s the matter with him that he’s so turned on by the thought of being used by Lan Zhan, that Lan Zhan would say such things and he’d feel so very good. He doesn’t even have experience with anyone, but he’s pretty sure most people without a single bit of experience would be a little worried, wouldn’t they? “Lan Zhan is very talkative. He’s saying all sorts of naughty things to his virginal Wei Ying. What will happen if Wei Ying breaks under the strain of it? Lan Zhan is so big and strong, he could definitely make Wei Ying—”

Lan Zhan stretches across the couch and slaps his hand over Wei Ying’s mouth. “Behave yourself.”

Of course Wei Ying’s not going to do that! When has he ever behaved well for Lan Zhan? And especially lately, when he’s gotten to find out how naughty Lan Zhan is when he wants to deal with his indiscretions? It’s an impossibility, like asking the moon to stop pulling the tides’ pigtails. He mutters nonsense against Lan Zhan’s hand, squirms, moans until the moans become real, because it’s rather hot to be pressed to the headboard in this way. If Lan Zhan only pushed him down fully, it would be even better. “Lan Zhan, you’re hurting me,” he says. Though the words are muffled by Lan Zhan’s palm, they’re also perfectly understandable.

Lan Zhan stares at him, searching his face for signs of true distress. He is so very endearing when he wants to be, so careful, too careful. Wei Ying wants Lan Zhan to take him with abandon.

He wants it to hurt a little.

Though he doesn’t know what it’s like for the people Lan Zhan has been with, he knows how he wants it to be between them. He’s had a long enough time to imagine it, how Lan Zhan would or should be. If it’s not what Lan Zhan wants to do, that’s fine, but Wei Ying has hopes, and even just vaguely teasing at them is almost more than he can bear. When Lan Zhan gropes him, he finds Wei Ying already stiff. “I’m surprised you managed through the month at all,” Lan Zhan says sharply as he squeezes Wei Ying through his boxers. This, too, hurts, but in such a delicious way that Wei Ying cannot help but begin squirming happily again, caught in Lan Zhan’s hold. “How can you be so wanton already?”

He doesn’t point out that Lan Zhan is just as clearly turned on. That’s not part of the fantasy. As his cheeks grow warm, he looks away. “I didn’t mean it,” he says, still muffled.

Lan Zhan pushes his hand harder over Wei Ying’s mouth. “I am not asking for an answer.”

With a whimper, Wei Ying nods.

“You have to wait.” Lan Zhan lets go of him and slides to the other side of the bed, dick hard as he again studies his watch. After a few moments, he speaks in his more normal tone. “We should discuss this.”

“What?”

He raises his watch for Wei Ying to see. There’s still twenty minutes until they win this challenge, if win is even the right word for the torment they’ve put themselves through. No sex for a month shouldn’t be this character building, in Wei Ying’s humble opinion. “We should discuss what you want to do.”

Wei Ying’s mind blanks out, giving his dick the chance to have a whole slew of thoughts all its own. “Anything, Lan Zhan. You’re in charge, right? What do you want to do?”

“Everything.”

Wei Ying laughs awkwardly. “That’s a tall order for one night.”

“Then we’ll do it as often as it takes,” Lan Zhan replies. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Squirming for an entirely not fun reason, Wei Ying pulls his legs up and drapes his arms over his knees. “I don’t know, Lan Zhan. As long as it’s with you, I don’t really care what we do.”

“You seemed to have a definite wish a few minutes ago.”

Wei Ying rolls his shoulder and tries to look Lan Zhan in the eye. It doesn’t go well. He just feels more abashed as the seconds stretch. “Lan Zhan, I’m really in your hands here. You’re the one who knows what he’s doing. I trust you to do it well.”

“Alright,” Lan Zhan says. “I’ll make it good.”

With the last handful of minutes between them and blessed relief, they discuss what Lan Zhan intends to do to him.

Wei Ying almost doesn’t make it through.

When the alarm on his phone goes off, Lan Zhan is quick, quicker than Wei Ying expects. Before Wei Ying knows it, Lan Zhan has him pinned. His hands are everywhere, touching every bit of Wei Ying that he can reach, hiking his shirt, pushing his joggers down, so insistent, but once Wei Ying is naked—or mostly naked—Lan Zhan stills, as though he is merely taking it all in. Even he seems at the point of breaking, muscles shaking. Wei Ying fears for a moment that this is what will break Lan Zhan, this closeness. “You want this?” he asks, voice a bare shiver.

“Pretty bad position to put myself in if I don’t,” Wei Ying teases. After so long not being able to touch Lan Zhan the way he wants to, it’s still difficult to allow himself the opportunity now that they’re allowed to, but even so, he laces his fingers together behind Lan Zhan’s head, pulling him down into a kiss. “Lan Zhan, do your worst. I’m ready for it.”

Lan Zhan’s gaze flicks up and down his body. He smirks a little as he tweaks Wei Ying’s nipple.

As it turns out, he’s not ready for it at all.

But that just makes it more fun.

“Lan Zhan, you beast!” Wei Ying cries, still panting for breath as Lan Zhan finally lets him go. He crawls toward the nearest wet spot free zone of the bed and twists onto his back with the last of his energy, sprawling his arms. Every centimeter of his skin aches. Even his hair hurts. And he’s sweating all over Lan Zhan’s sheets. He should’ve put down towels before they did this. The mess is obscene. “I didn’t know you could do that to another person.”

Lan Zhan is beautifully, brilliantly smug as he deftly skirts around the wet spot and brackets Wei Ying’s hips with his thighs.

“Ahahaha, noooo. Lan Zhan, don’t. I couldn’t possibly—” He’s pretty sure he’ll never get off again, that’s how thoroughly Lan Zhan has ruined him. Finding a bit of energy to fend Lan Zhan off with, he slaps at Lan Zhan’s chest. “No wonder all those guys cried so much and came out of your room in the morning in such a daze! Lan Zhan, you didn’t take any responsibility for them after you drained the life out of them? How insatiable can one man be? You’re—”

Lan Zhan bends forward and captures Wei Ying’s mouth in a bruising kiss. If he could, he’d point out that his mouth hurts, too, battered as it’s been by Lan Zhan’s own demanding lips. “Enough,” Lan Zhan says when he pulls back. “They got what they wanted from me.” Those monstrous lips lift in a tiny, nearly impossible to perceive smile. “Besides, they will no longer have to concern themselves with me.”

“Oh?” Wei Ying asks, delight trilling inside of him. “And why’s that?”

“Because I expect you to take responsibility for me instead.”

He’s never liked the sound of anything in his life as much as he likes the sound of that. Dragging his—yes, aching!—hand down Lan Zhan’s arm, he says, “If you keep sweet talking me like that, I’ll be ready for another round before you are.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

Though Nie Huaisang always invites Wei Ying out to lunch, Lan Zhan doesn’t normally come with him. In fact, they never used to go out together for lunch at all, which in retrospect is a little weird considering they don’t really work that far away from one another, not far enough that one lunch would be impossible to handle.

But as they sit together across from Nie Huaisang and a spread that would be worthy of a table full of friends and not just the three of them, Wei Ying realizes this is something they can just do now: go to lunch together. All the time. Without Nie Huaisang preferably. Sorry, Nie Huaisang. Not that it isn’t lovely…

“So,” Nie Huaisang says, “it worked, huh?”

…but there’s no reason to go under this kind of scrutiny when the result is just going to involve getting roasted.

“Despite how stupid the plan was.” Wei Ying kicked at Nie Huaisang’s ankle. “I suppose it did.” Though Wei Ying is supremely embarrassed by his behavior—truly, this is not going to make a good story about how they got together, it requires so many edits to make it a reasonable thing to share with other people—Lan Zhan simply capturing Wei Ying’s hand under the table, squeezing it briefly before letting go again. Because he’s not a big enough sap, he hooks his ankle around Wei Ying’s, ensuring his skin never stops flushing in shy pleasure. “Congratulate me now while I haven’t tormented you with gross displays of affection. You think Lan Zhan will keep decorum in public, but the only thing stopping him right now is me.”

“Congratulations,” Nie Huaisang says drily. “Hey, Lan Zhan. Do you think a plan like this will work on your brother?”

Lan Zhan chokes on the sip of tea he takes, but he recovers quickly, coughing delicately into his hand. “I have no idea.” Unlike Wei Ying, he’s smart enough not to ask further questions. Whatever plan Nie Huaisang is concocting, it’s not going to involve him or, by extension, Wei Ying.

“He’s going to give us hell forever, you know,” Wei Ying says as Lan Zhan calls for a waiter. Even before they got together, Lan Zhan never let him win that argument, so Wei Ying has given up trying.

“Let him,” Lan Zhan says. “I will do what I must to you in recompense.” He leans in and whispers his suggestion in Wei Ying’s ear as the waiter comes over with a scanner and retreats just as quickly.

“L-Lan Zhan!”

But as Lan Zhan presses a napkin to Wei Ying’s lower lip, a fine, doting gesture, he simply thinks they’ll need to have lunch together more frequently going forward.

Every day, if possible.

And maybe not only lunch. There’s plenty of time to squeeze in a few other activities, too.