Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan laughs when he’s drunk.

At first, Wei Ying is certain he’s imagining it. That the five vodka lemonades, two shots and one glass of wine are affecting his sensory perception. That it’s some sort of alcohol-induced optical illusion when Lan Zhan’s mouth moves in sync with the soft giggle hitting Wei Ying’s ears.

Then Lan Zhan does it again. And Wei Ying realises he’s in love.

He’s not one to fall in love flippantly. In fact, prior to three and a half seconds ago, he’d never fallen in love at all. He puts up a brave (and often flirtatious) facade but after spending his early years in foster care, Wei Ying knows trust should never be given easily.

And falling in love is a very trusting thing to do.

“Wei Ying,” whispers drunk Lan Zhan. He slides off his bar stool and sways forward, dropping his forehead to rest on Wei Ying’s shoulder. “Take me home.”

Wei Ying’s wearing a leather jacket.

Even four flights away and through the bars adoring his dorm window, Lan Zhan knows the black-clad figure below him is Wei Ying. If his foster mother’s purple Tesla hadn’t already given him away, then the way he flips the bird at her as she drives off, then promptly falls back onto his own suitcase certainly does.

As he gets back to his feet, Wei Ying casually pops the collar of his leather jacket, and Lan Zhan realises he’s in love. 

The irony of the origin of the garment to evoke such a response is not lost on Lan Zhan, and he will address his animal-loving scruples later. For now, he basks in this new evolved feeling, so completely intense, but not particularly surprising. 

Lan Zhan has no business being in love with Wei Ying. Nor does he have any business knowing what kind of car Wei Ying’s foster mother drives, let alone knowing about Wei Ying’s family dynamic at all. Except Wei Ying talks a lot, and loudly, and Lan Zhan listens.

It was only a matter of time before Lan Zhan’s crush turned into…this.

Wei Ying shoves his sleeves to his elbows only for them to slide right back down. He does it once more to the same effect before dragging his oversized suitcase to the entrance of the residential building, Lan Zhan’s residential building .

Lan Zhan’s heartbeat races. He’s only shared three classes with Wei Ying over the last two years and even that fleeting contact has been overwhelming. Now for his third and final year of university, he might also run into Wei Ying on the stairs, or, if they share a floor, returning from the communal showers. Please let them share a floor. No, Lan Zhan immediately self corrects. That would be improper.

Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying struggle with his suitcase up the entrance steps, one heave at a time. Until, at the last hurdle, he miscalculates the height and the suitcase slams onto its side and bursts open, decorating the steps with Wei Ying’s clothes and what appears suspiciously like a giant tub of chilli flakes. Nearby students look over but don’t stop, walking over or on Wei Ying’s clothes to get past. Meanwhile, Wei Ying flails around, furiously jamming each item back inside his case, only for most of them to fall out again. The suitcase’s flimsy zips are clearly not designed to match Wei Ying’s chaotic energy. Then again, what is?

Without thinking too much about it because if he does he’ll stay frozen, Lan Zhan turns from the window, unzips one of his own suitcases, dumps the carefully folded contents onto his bed and dashes down the stairs two, three at a time. At the entrance, he pauses, collects himself, neutralises his face, and continues forward slowly, calmly …at least on the outside.

Wei Ying, still flailing, still charmingly chaotic, still clad in that leather jacket, doesn’t notice him at first. That’s fine by Lan Zhan. He places his empty suitcase beside the stairs and begins the process of retrieving, folding and packing Wei Ying’s clothes. Most of them are in desperate need of an iron, having been clearly stuffed indiscriminately into Wei Ying’s overpacked case.

“Hey!” Wei Ying suddenly yells, yanking a Lady Gaga t-shirt from Lan Zhan’s hands. “That’s mine.” His eyes widen as they pass over Lan Zhan’s case. “Those are all mine too! Are you some sort of scam artist? I’ve heard about your type, you know. Hanging around unis, trying to trick unsuspecting first years into trusting you with their luggage. Well, I’m not a first year and you can’t fool me. Give me back my clothes.”

That’s when Lan Zhan realises Wei Ying, his reigning crush and the object of his deepest affections, doesn’t even know who he is. His heart clenches painfully at the rejection but he manages to keep it from showing on his face. True, they’ve never spoken directly, but they’ve shared classes. They were even in a group project once. With five others, and most of the work was completed online, but still. Lan Zhan could never forget Wei Ying.

“You have overpacked your bag,” he says in a deliberate monotone, lest his emotions reveal themselves. “Let me help you.”

Wei Ying’s eyes flick over Lan Zhan. “You don’t look like a criminal.”

“You should not make judgments based on appearance,” Lan Zhan rattles off automatically. And certainly not based on leather jackets, he privately admonishes himself.

Wei Ying grins, wide and toothy. “So, you are a criminal!”

“No.”

“Shame, you have the perfect face for a mug shot.” Wei Ying shrugs and dumps a bundle of clothes in Lan Zhan’s bag. “Okay, you can help, but I’ve got both my eyes on you. And my hands if you make any sudden movements.”

The playful threat in Wei Ying’s tone should not affect Lan Zhan. It should not make the little hairs on the back of his neck rise up. It should not make his brain immediately pull up images of Wei Ying’s hands on him in very different, very inappropriate circumstances. Lan Zhan drops his gaze and busies himself zipping up his bag.

“Which–” Lan Zhan croaks, then clears his throat. He is never like this. “Which room is yours?”

“Good question!” Wei Ying slides his phone from the back pocket of his very, very tight jeans. “I know I saved it somewhere…” he mutters.

Lan Zhan finishes securing both bags and lifts them, one in each hand. His left eyelid is twitching and he is acutely aware of his spine’s contrary slump as he hunches to meet Wei Ying’s level. God, he is such a mess. He might as well burst into romantic poetry right now with how obvious he’s being. 

“Aha!” Wei Ying yells triumphantly. “Room 4-8.”

Lan Zhan drops both bags. Thankfully, now they are adequately packed, neither burst, but Lan Zhan still might. 4-8 is also his room, and the prospect of rooming with Wei Ying is only as thrilling as it is terrifying. He can’t decide if the universe is offering him a reward or punishment. 

Wei Ying moves to grab his bag and Lan Zhan quickly picks it up, as well as his own, once more, keeping his grip firm this time. A reward, he decides.

“Let me,” Wei Ying says, latching onto the opposite handle.

Lan Zhan easily pulls it from his grasp. “No.”

Wei Ying pouts and Lan Zhan forces his eyes not to linger for more than half a second on his mouth. Punishment. Definitely punishment.

“I can carry my own bag.”

“Recent events suggest otherwise.”

Lan Zhan turns and enters the residential block to avoid catching Wei Ying’s reaction. He’s not intending to be rude, but the control it takes not to turn into a flushing bumbling mess in Wei Ying’s presence forces him to overcompensate. Great work, Lan Zhan, he thinks to himself sarcastically, Instead of Wei Ying knowing you’re in love with him, he’s going to think you hate him. Much better. 

The residential building is old – heritage the university brochures say to avoid accommodating accessibility requirements – with no elevator and only one central staircase. Lan Zhan hoists each suitcase a fraction higher and begins the long journey upwards.

Wei Ying lags half a step behind. “It’s not fair to blame me,” he says, probably still pouting. “You said it yourself. My suitcase was overpacked. Not my fault.”

Nothing is your fault, Lan Zhan’s lovesick brain thinks unironically, you’re perfect. But what his cruel mouth actually says is: “Who packed it?”

Wei Ying huffs. Lan Zhan knows the sounds well; depending on Wei Ying’s facial expression it could be in impatience or humour or a mix of both. He doesn’t dare turn around to confirm. He doesn’t trust his control not to linger on the expressive arch of Wei Ying’s eyebrows, or the curves of his bottom lip when he–

“Don’t get tricky with me, Mr Maybe-Criminal. That’s besides the point. I’m starting to think this is all part of your plan. You lull me into a sense of security with your perfectly symmetrical face and then BAM! You’re running off with all my clothes and selling my custom The Witcher ™ dildo–”

Lan Zhan’s composure slips and he’s grateful only a passing student he doesn’t know sees the wide doe-eyed expression on his face before he quickly resets it.

Wei Ying coughs behind him.“–I mean figurine. Selling my custom The Witcher ™ figurine on eBay. You know, The Witcher. He has lots of figurines. Very popular. You should get one. A figurine! But not mine. Um, because you’re not allowed to steal my stuff. Actually, on second thoughts, you do look like a criminal. You have that smooth composed thing going on which is obviously a cover up for your burglarious intent.”

Lan Zhan means to counter the criminal accusation or at least correct Wei Ying’s absurd suggestion of burglary (he can hardly break into his own room…) but he’s rendered temporarily speechless by Wei Ying’s dildo slip. Listening to Wei Ying’s endless chatter in class had been one thing, but now, feeling the full affront of it, Lan Zhan realises he is not going to make it through this year without his feelings becoming painstakingly obvious. With every word Wei Ying says, Lan Zhan can feel himself falling helplessly further in love. The universe has a cruel sense of humour. 

“Do you put in this effort for all the guys in this residential block or am I special?” Wei Ying asks on the third flight.

You’re special. You’re the only one. “You make the most mess.” Lan Zhan considers the verbal sparring between Wei Ying and Madam Yu that made him look out his window in the first place. “And the most noise.”

“You haven’t heard anything yet. What floor are you on? Wait until I play When Doves Cry at one am tonight.”

Prince. Lady Gaga. Bowie. Saweetie. Lan Zhan knows all of Wei Ying’s favourite music. How can Lan Zhan know so much about a person who, until two minutes ago, didn’t know he even existed? Pathetic, Lan Zhan tells himself. You had two years to make an impression and you did nothing. You’re boring and strange and you have no friends.

Wei Ying must take Lan Zhan’s silence for objection, rather than personal frustration, because he adds: “It’s the only way I can fall asleep.”

Wei Ying has insomnia and anxiety and he’s allergic to latex. Stupid, Lan Zhan tells his brain, why can’t you memorise other things? Like how to hold a conversation with your crush without turning into a mess. It’s not like he’s been stalking Wei Ying or anything. It’s just that Wei Ying is very free with the information he shares in class, or loudly in the corridor outside of class. Lan Zhan can’t help that he has ears, and a brain with a memory that becomes photographic when Wei Ying is involved.

“You can play Prince at nine thirty,” Lan Zhan suggests.

“Nine thirty?” Wei Ying repeats with all the emotion Lan Zhan avoids. “Is that your bedtime?”

They reach the fourth and final landing and Wei Ying falls into step beside Lan Zhan. He’s grinning in his usual smug careless way that Lan Zhan would photograph and frame on his wall if that wasn’t, you know, super strange and creepy. Especially creepy now that he shares his walls with Wei Ying. 

“Please tell me you don’t actually go to bed at nine thirty.”

Lan Zhan decides it is in his best interest not to reply, especially since his bedtime is actually nine o-clock on the dot. The extra half an hour had been a courtesy for Wei Ying only. He finally has a chance to make an impression and he’s already fucking it up. 

“Dude, this is uni. Nothing good happens until after ten pm, at least. And you’re tucking yourself in at nine thirty ?”

“Sleep is important for cognitive function,” Lan Zhan regurgitates automatically and mentally screams at himself. You’re so fucking cool, Lan Zhan, he thinks sarcastically. The coolest. Not strange at all. Wei Ying will definitely like you now. He stops outside room 4-8 and lets Wei Ying key the lock.

As the door swings open, Wei Ying’s eyes widen. “Oh no.”

Lan Zhan looks over his shoulder. The room is barely big enough for one person and somehow the university has crammed two single beds against either wall. Between them is one tiny window with bars on the outside and below that a shared dresser with three drawers, one missing a handle. A carefully considered line of white duct tape splits the room in two from the window to the entranceway.

Lan Zhan had found it small, yes, but overall in line with his expectations of on-campus living. In truth, he’d only chosen to live on campus for the first time this year to escape his uncle so the bar had been quite low.

“What's wrong?” he asks.

“My roommate is going to be a nightmare,” Wei Ying says, typing frantically into his mobile.

Lan Zhan looks over to his side of the room to understand Wei Ying’s assessment. His bed is littered with half-folded clothes from his hasty suitcase dump, but otherwise he’s left it neat. He’d already replaced the University’s standard blue sheets with plain white ones and his second suitcase stands neatly at the foot of the bed, ready to be unpacked. 

“Why do you say that?”

Wei Ying points to the floor. “He has literally marked up a line to determine sides!” He peels off his leather jacket – Punishment! – and throws it onto the remaining bed. “He must be looking for a fight.”

Beneath the jacket, Wei Ying wears a plain white tee with an orange stain in the centre of his chest. Knowing Wei Ying, the origin is almost certainly food. Lan Zhan averts his gaze politely.

“Or perhaps he is avoiding one by ensuring both roommates are equally aware of each other’s boundaries. It is respectful.”

“Oh no,” Wei Ying says again. “You’re my roommate.”

It takes all Lan Zhan’s control to keep the hurt from his face. “Mn.”

University classes begin and, for the first time, Lan Zhan is out of his depth. He only receives a 93% on an early assignment. 93%! It’s not that the coursework is too hard or too cumbersome, and even if it were, Lan Zhan would revel in the challenge. No, it’s because Lan Zhan is distracted. He’d thought having a crush these last two years was time-consuming enough but that was nothing to being in love. Just as being ignored by your crush is nothing to being hated by your love. And Wei Ying’s hate is particularly debilitating. 

Not that Lan Zhan doesn’t deserve it. With his feelings threatening to reveal themselves at every opportunity, he’s anxiously taken to overcompensating, to the point where everything he says to Wei Ying comes out like a complaint or order. To Wei Ying, he can only appear cruel and unfeeling, despite his inner thoughts being anything but.

For example, instead of saying:

The speed in which you eat makes me concerned for your personal welfare and I hope you are currently seeing a therapist for childhood trauma. Perhaps, I could help you enjoy regular full meals by taking you out to eat three times a day.

Lan Zhan says: 

“Do not eat in the dormroom.”

 Instead of saying:

When you leave your underwear on the floor, it makes me horny in a way that is inappropriate for roommates. Would you mind attempting to put them away?

Lan Zhan says:

“Do not leave your clothes on the floor.”

Instead of saying:

You were shivering this morning and I don’t know if it is overstepping to cover you in the spare blanket I purchased just for you.

Lan Zhan says: 

“Do not leave the window open at night.”

Instead of saying:

Your suggestive pen sucking is inherently phallic and I would much rather not have an erection right now since I am finalising an assignment that is due in two weeks. I know it is my fault for leaving the work until the last minute but in my defence, you were also suggestively eating a banana last weekend.

Lan Zhan says: 

“Do not chew on your pens.”

Instead of saying:

I am concerned the volume of your music will burst your eardrums eventually and any harm you experience will also harm me irreparably. Please take care.

Lan Zhan says: 

“Do not play music above sixty-two decibels.”

Instead of saying:

I love you.

Lan Zhan effectively says: 

“Do not under any circumstances smile, laugh or have any fun whatsoever.”

At least, that’s the exact line Wei Ying repeats to his friends in a poor imitation of Lan Zhan’s low monotoned voice. Lan Zhan overhears him complaining about his “uptight fuddy-duddy” roommate one afternoon. He stops at the door to their shared room, his face heating at the giggles behind it. 

“Do. Not. Breathe,” Wei Ying continues. “Do. Not. Exist. Do not use The Witcher ™ dildo at two am in the morning!”

(For the record, Lan Zhan has never blasphemed The Witcher ™ dildo in that way. He is always deeply asleep at two am anyway.)

Amongst the laughter, someone inside even claps. “You are a terrible roommate,” a woman’s voice says. 

“Me?” Wei Ying says. “I would never make rules about The Witcher ™ dildo. And do I have to point out the duct tape?”

(Again, Lan Zhan has never made any rules pertaining to The Witcher ™ dildo, nor will he ever. The duct tape, of course, was his idea and he stands by it. Wei Ying’s presence is already unbearable. Shouldn’t he at least be allowed one boundary?)

Swallowing down the hurt that bundles in his throat, Lan Zhan backs away silently from the door and resolves to spend the evening in the library by the encyclopaedia section where nobody ever visits. That way, there will be no one to witness his tears. Do not let your feelings show.

The worst part is Lan Zhan knows the hatred is of his own making. If he could only express himself properly, he could be Wei Ying’s friend. Or perhaps that is wishful thinking. Except Wei Ying seems to make friends easily. Already he’s befriended Wen Ning from two blocks away and his sister Wen Qing even though she only shares classes with Lan Zhan, not Wei Ying. Then, of course, there’s Nie Huaisang who Wei Ying made friends with in first year. Lan Zhan witnessed their friendship bloom, even as he sat two seats behind them in ‘Intro to Academic Writing’, his ears already attuned to one melodic voice. 

But, whatever the possibilities may have been, the damage is already done. Wei Ying hates him, which makes Lan Zhan’s love strange and creepy and ridiculous. He does his best to stay out of Wei Ying’s way, keeping carefully to his side of the duct taped boundary, every step precisely mapped out. When Wei Ying’s clothes inevitably drift to Lan Zhan’s side, he carefully pushes them back with an unassuming foot. 

Other than clothes, and the occasional chilli flakes, Wei Ying keeps to his side too, though he often teeters right on the edge, almost as if to get a rise out of Lan Zhan. But Lan Zhan can’t say anything other than his famous “Do not...” catchphrases so he ignores the potential slight.

A few weeks into the year, his brother Lan Huan texts offering congratulations to Lan Zhan for making friends at university. Lan Zhan is too ashamed to correct his brother. No, I am still strange and unlikeable with no friends. Still, he has to find out what his brother means. When he queries further, Lan Huan sends a link to a Tiktok video.

The cover image is a picture of Wei Ying’s face so of course, Lan Zhan clicks on the link immediately. He is not required to log-in to watch it. Clearly, privacy is not a concern of his roommate’s. Lan Zhan already knows this from the shameful way Wei Ying often changes his clothes in their room rather than in the bathrooms, but this is bordering on unsafe. Even his captions include the locations of his filming. 

The Tiktok in question is a cheeky ‘day in the life’ edit with a late shot featuring an unconsenting Lan Zhan trying to study. Though the original audio has been covered by music and edited to a short snippet, Lan Zhan remembers the moment well. Wei Ying had thrown a scrunched up piece of paper at his head and urged him to open it. Inside was a quick sketch of their room but in place of duct tape, a rocky chasm separated the room. Wei Ying had drawn himself as stick figure but taken the time to sketch Lan Zhan in much greater detail, capturing his likeness exactly. Lan Zhan wanted to keep the drawing forever, frame it, look at it every morning. But instead, he shamefully discarded the paper to Wei Ying’s side of the tape and said, “Do not draw me.”

In Wei Ying’s Tiktok, a caption pops up over the snippet of Lan Zhan getting hit by the paper, and so, even though he hates the memory, Lan Zhan can’t help replaying the video over and over again to read it, if only to focus on one crucial word:

annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
my pretty roommate check!
my pretty roommate
pretty roommate
pretty

Lan Zhan is furious to learn the next day when he returns to Wei Ying’s Tiktok that the video has been inexplicably deleted.

Logically this means Lan Zhan has to create his own Tiktok account to check Wei Ying’s content regularly, just in case another video should appear and disappear with him in it. He needs to review the content before anything is deleted to ensure it is appropriate. Especially if his brother is also watching. It’s unlikely Wei Ying will notice a blank profile amongst a thousand others liking all his Tiktok videos anyway. He hadn’t noticed Lan Zhan for an entire two years. 

One morning, following Lan Zhan’s usual six am shower, he returns to the room to find Wei Ying’s bed empty. This is strange. Wei Ying is chaotic but he is always in bed, whether actually sleeping or staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes, well into the morning. Before Lan Zhan can worry too much about Wei Ying’s whereabouts, he finally spots him. 

Wei Ying’s not sleeping in his own bed because he’s sleeping in Lan Zhan’s! He’s curled up on one side, facing the room, more relaxed than perhaps Lan Zhan has ever seen him in rest. He’s wearing an oversized band tee and some old gym shorts – he’d used to sleep pantless until Lan Zhan had cracked one day and said embarrassingly “Do not sleep pantless!” – and his head fits perfectly into Lan Zhan’s memory foam pillow. Drool pools at the corner of his mouth which Lan Zhan knows he should find gross, and maybe he still does a little, but mostly, it’s cute. Wei Ying is fast asleep in his bed and it’s the cutest thing Lan Zhan has ever witnessed. 

Lan Zhan stares for so long, frozen in the centre of the room, that he completely misses his routine pre-class study session. Eventually, when he can coordinate with his limbs to move, Lan Zhan steps in close, his heart beating way too fast than the situation calls for, and pulls the blanket – his blanket – up around Wei Ying’s shoulders. Then, before he can get trapped in a stare again, Lan Zhan turns away, gathers his laptop and books and hurries to his first class. 

People stare at him strangely on the stairs, and in the courtyard, and in the corridor. It’s not until he sits down in class and opens his laptop, that he sees a flash of his own face reflected at him in the black screen before it boots up. He’s smiling. 

Lan Zhan neutralises his face immediately. 

After discovering his roommate mysteriously sleeping in his bed, Lan Zhan finds himself rendered mute in Wei Ying’s presence. Even when Wei Ying eats nachos in bed, Lan Zhan can’t even bring himself to say “Do not spill salsa on your sheets.” Instead he locks eyes with Wei Ying, his face burning hot, and immediately turns back to his laptop, pretending to study. What must Wei Ying think of him now?

At night, sleep is slower than usual. Wei Ying’s scent has seeped into his sheets – fresh orange and…barbeque smoke? – and Lan Zhan finds himself breathing his pillow in deeply, always chasing more. When sleep does come, his dreams are intensely visual in a way that brings him extreme guilt in the mornings. Especially when those specific dreams leave him forced to make certain private arrangements in the shower. 

After two nights, he washes his sheets, but the dreams linger. To be on the safe side, he purchases new white sheets and an entirely new pillow. Wei Ying watches Lan Zhan replace the offensive coverings on a Saturday afternoon, his nose scrunching, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask why. Which is a relief since there is no way Lan Zhan can speak to Wei Ying, let alone answer for his embarrassing actions. 

Satisfied Wei Ying’s smell is banished from his side of the room, Lan Zhan resolves to reign his graphic thoughts in, out of respect for his roommate, and ultimately out of kindness to himself. Just because Wei Ying slept in his bed, does not mean anything will ever eventuate between them. Entertaining the idea can only bring Lan Zhan more disappointment.

Except of course, he doesn’t tell Wei Ying of this plan, obviously, since that would defeat his purpose of never ever revealing his true feelings. Unfortunately, this means Wei Ying does not know not to post a thirsty Tiktok on Saturday night. (Lan Zhan only knows Wei Ying is dehydrated at the time of posting because of the hashtag: #thirsty.)

Before he can analyse his own actions and condemn them, Lan Zhan is letting the video replay on a loop, mesmorised. And then, inevitably, once he panics and realises this video could be deleted at any time, Lan Zhan has a terrible obsessive urge. Of course, he would never act on this urge. Unlike Wei Ying, Lan Zhan is disciplined and honourable. In fact, there are many things Wei Ying is not: organised, clean, predictable, unattractive...well-hydrated. 

No, Lan Zhan doesn’t plan to act on this urge because he assumes the video will be deleted in days, and the temptation removed. But after almost a week, it’s still sitting there on Wei Ying’s Tiktok profile, taunting him.

It’s a Friday afternoon and Lan Zhan sits in his final class of the day, sweating. The temperature in the classroom is not unpleasant, and if anything, it might be bordering on chilly. But Lan Zhan sweats all the same. 

He laid out the plan in his mind as soon as he awoke at five am in the morning. Wei Ying never returns to their room after classes on a Friday, assumingly hanging out with his friends like a normal university student. The Tiktok is just sitting there on Wei Ying’s profile for anyone to watch. Lan Zhan’s obsession with it is eating away at his concentration and commitment to his studies. 

He plans to allow himself one lapse in discipline, in order to refocus and move on.

That’s why he’s sweating. It’s impossible but he feels as if everyone must know what he’s planning. That when the professor’s gaze passes over Lan Zhan, she can see the hunger and guilt in eyes. That when another student asks if they can borrow a pencil, they can hear the lingering desperation in Lan Zhan’s reply. (“Mn.”)

The end of class can’t come fast enough. He leaps out of his chair and all but runs back to his room, back to their room. He must look like an emotional wreck, but he’s too preoccupied to care. 

He eyes Wei Ying’s bed but only for a moment. He is allowing one minor lapse in discipline, not throwing the doors open to all debauchery. Besides, when Wei Ying had fallen asleep in his bed that morning for some maddening reasoning, Lan Zhan hadn’t been able to sleep properly for days, the scent leaking into his every dream. He cannot fall into that trap again. 

No, he settles into his own bed, and under the sheets for modesty. It’s alarming how fast his fingers open up Tiktok on his phone and navigate to Wei Ying’s profile, to that video. He watches it through three times in a row without blinking.

The lighting is awful, flashing obnoxiously, and the camera angle is not steady but Wei Ying, ah Wei Ying. He’s wearing his tight black jeans – the ones he makes such a scene sliding on most mornings while Lan Zhan averts his eyes. His shirt is a simple black button down, and buttoned down it is . It sits wide open to reveal Wei Ying’s bare chest, covered in a layer of sweat. His face is flushed as it only ever is from heavy drinking. Wei Ying is too shameless to ever blush from embarrassment or modesty. 

He’s with a man, a stranger, who is irrelevant. Lan Zhan tries not to focus on them. Instead he watches the stranger’s hand sliding down Wei Ying’s chest, too fast. If it were Lan Zhan’s hand, he’d go slow, revering every inch of skin…not that he’ll ever have the opportunity. 

Just before the stranger reaches the (tight!) waistband of Wei Ying’s jeans, they slide their hand around, pulling Wei Ying closer by his ass. Wei Ying makes a face and possibly a noise but the music is too loud to hear what. Lan Zhan aches to know all the noises Wei Ying makes. When Wei Ying bounces back, the slight strain at the groin of his jeans is obvious. Then the video ends. Wei Ying is hard. On his Tiktok. For anyone to see. For Lan Zhan to see. Over and over again. 

Lan Zhan places his phone down reluctantly but only for a second so he can unzip his pants. Scandalous. Shameless. Why would anyone post such a video on their public profile for anyone to see? 

Except Lan Zhan is hardly without fault. He is the shameless one, using this story as material, as fantasy, as a substitute. It’s crude and immoral, and he shouldn’t objectify anyone like this, but especially not his roommate. Especially not Wei Ying who he sees every day, who should feel safe in this space. 

At the first touch of himself, achingly hard from nothing but watching, Lan Zhan feels immense regret. He throws his phone down frustrated, the muffled club audio from the Tiktok still playing in a loop. It doesn’t matter how much he yearns for it, how ridiculously hard he is, he can’t do this. It doesn’t feel right. 

“Fuck!” he yells in frustration, throwing his head back against the headboard. “Fuck, shit, damn, fuck.”

“Um. Hi!”

Lan Zhan’s head snaps up so fast he’ll have to fasttrack the next appointment with his physiotherapist. Wei Ying is standing at the door.

The incriminating thump of muffled bass continues to play from Lan Zhan’s discarded phone, marking him as the pervert he is. 

“Wei Ying,” he says, frantically grabbing the cursed phone and silencing it, “I can explain.” Seeing the outline of your dick makes me lose all rational thought. 

Wei Ying remains frozen at the room’s entrance, the door wide open behind him. He’s going to yell. Or run screaming. Or laugh. Lan Zhan waits for his punishment. For what he deserves for his shameless behaviour. Instead: “How do you know my name?”

Lan Zhan’s momentarily stunned. How could he NOT know Wei Ying’s name? Even if it hadn’t been the name on his mind every morning for years, they’ve been roommates for months now. Of course he knows. But he can’t say that. He never says anything true to Wei Ying. 

“You are messy,” he says. Another criticism. Smooth as always, Lan Zhan. “Your papers often slide over to my side.”

“Your side,” Wei Ying repeats mockingly. He collapses onto his own bed and slides his shoes off. “So what are you working on? I’ve never heard you swear. Like ever.”

He doesn’t know. Lan Zhan stares down at himself. His dick is still very much out of his pants, but thankfully hidden to Wei Ying by his covers. But it’s going to be very obvious if he adjusts himself now. He’ll have to sit like this, awkward, shameful and hard until Wei Ying leaves. Except Wei Ying’s already pulling out one of his shameless paperbacks – this one has a shirtless man provocatively posed in a guillotine – and settling on his stomach.

“You’re staying?” Lan Zhan’s voice comes out choked. Wei Ying always has plans on a Friday night. The one night Lan Zhan decides to– The universe must truly hate him. 

Wei Ying looks over. “This is my room too, you know.” His eyes flick disparagingly down to the duct tape between them. “I believe you proposed exactly half ownership.” Wei Ying rolls onto his side, planting his book face down. “Which is actually impossible by the way because the floor is slightly slanted so technically your side is…”

Shame floods through Lan Zhan as he stares at Wei Ying. Wei Ying is so vibrant, so lively, so Wei Ying. How could Lan Zhan ever have reduced him to one video?

Wei Ying’s rant trails off. “What’s wrong?” His eyes widen, clearly taking in Lan Zhan’s position under the covers. “Oh my god! Were you…”

Lan Zhan pulls his white bed covers up to his chin. He can feel his ears burning. 

Wei Ying jumps to his feet. “You were!” He bursts into laughter. “I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quickly between bouts. “Well, I kinda am. I totally am. I just had this idea of you that was so wrong. I didn’t think you actually you know …” He collapses into more laughter, before chaotically pulling his shoes on. “I’ll go out for a bit. How long do you need? Five minutes? Twenty? No, don’t answer that. I’ll head to the library for the rest of the night. I’m supposed to be studying for a test on Monday anyway. You just...do you.”

Lan Zhan can’t speak. He can only watch, mortified, as Wei Ying continues to laugh and collect his things. At the door, which has been wide open this whole time, Wei Ying turns and fixes Lan Zhan with a smile that’s unbearably kind. Reward. Lan Zhan’s heart clenches and– “Wait, what’s your name by the way?”

The entire world shifts beneath Lan Zhan. His dick literally deflates to flaccidity. It takes all of his composure not to show any devastation in his face. Wei Ying is everything to him, and Wei Ying doesn’t even know his name. Punishment.

The worst part is Lan Zhan knows it’s his own fault. He’s the one who’s been standoffish, rude even. He’s the one who never introduced himself. He takes a breath and tries to keep his voice level. 

“Lan Zhan.”

After the incident, Lan Zhan avoids Wei Ying as much as possible. He leaves the room before Wei Ying wakes every day and he studies in the library until bedtime. Still, it’s not enough. Wei Ying’s presence is everywhere, and not just because he can’t keep his mess to his side of the room. 

The worst is when Wei Ying slips into bed uncharacteristically early one night, just after nine, before Lan Zhan’s fallen properly asleep. But even as his ears prick up, his every sense drawn to Wei Ying’s arrival, Lan Zhan feigns deep sleep, desperate to avoid any interaction. He listens to the shuffle of sheets as Wei Ying rolls over and over again. If he were bolder, he’d say something comforting. He wouldn’t leave Wei Ying alone in his insomnia. But he’s not bold; he’s just Lan Zhan.

And perhaps this weakness is why the universe punishes him. Again.

A drawer opens slowly and snaps shut with a clear click. Wei Ying giggles. Then worst of all, Wei Ying whispers in a poor impression, “Do not masturbate in the dormroom, Wei Ying.”

Oh god. Wei Ying’s about to…and he’s mocking Lan Zhan. (Not that Lan Zhan ever made such a comment.)

“Oh Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying replies to himself. This is awful. “We both know you’re a dirty hypocrite.” (Again, Lan Zhan has never made any rules about masturbation.)

It’s stiflingly hot under the covers but Lan Zhan’s frozen, staring at the dark ceiling as he listens to every noise coming from Wei Ying’s bed. Though he deliberately does not turn his head to watch, awful degrading images come to his mind to fill in the blanks anyway. He tries to push them away but they come back stronger, dirtier, and in higher definition. I’m sorry, Wei Ying, he thinks. There’s something wrong with me.

The next morning, he resolves to say something. He should have stopped it at the beginning of course, but the least he can do now is give Wei Ying the heads up about the lack of privacy afforded by their room. It is the most respectful thing to do. To stop future…incidents. 

Except when he meets Wei Ying in the residential block corridor that morning, Wei Ying’s hair wet from the shower, and his shirt clinging to his chest, Lan Zhan’s brain short-circuits. His long-rehearsed rant about privacy and respect turns into the one crude phrase he promised not to utter:

“Do not masturbate in the dormroom, Wei Ying.” 

Lan Zhan hoped a break away from Wei Ying would aid in clearing his mind and restoring sanity, but it does the opposite. Pining after Wei Ying is not nearly as intense as missing Wei Ying. He spends the week with his brother, lovesick confessions spilling out of him like overflowing water. How Wei Ying speaks as if to a rhythm. How Wei Ying smells inexplicably like orange. How Wei Ying always surprises him with a new perspective. How Wei Ying flirts sometimes. How Lan Zhan knows it doesn’t mean anything, but he takes shameful delight in it anyway. 

It should be humiliating to share such intimacies with his brother, but being in love brings with it an unfamiliar happiness that longs to be shared. And since it might never be shared with the object of his affections, Lan Zhan’s brother is the unlucky recipient. Not that Lan Huan seems to mind. He encourages the confessions all week, and doesn’t even poke fun when Lan Zhan suggests returning to campus a day early.

The least Lan Zhan can do is host his brother in his room with a quick tea before Lan Huan moves on. He’s returning from the shared kitchen with tea in the university’s awful square mugs, when he hears Wei Ying’s voice. Shouting his name. He doesn’t even feel pain as hot tea dribbles down his hand. 

“Oh sorry,” Wei Ying’s voice continues. “I thought you were– actually, apart from the smile, you kinda look like him–”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts. He stares at the back of Wei Ying’s glossy black hair in the doorway and feels his knees sag subtly in relief. He missed this man so much. “Meet my brother: Lan Huan.”

Wei Ying spins around, his hair whipping across Lan Zhan’s face and leaving the dizzying scent of freshly squeezed orange juice in its wake. And then Lan Zhan’s looking at Wei Ying’s face for the first time in a week and realising he did an awful job of describing it to his brother. How could he mention the dimples but forget to mention the additional lingering wrinkle lines around Wei Ying’s mouth that deepen with every smile? 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says again. (One more time, Lan Zhan urges desperately in his mind. Say my name one more time.) “You’re back. Early.”

Inside the room, Lan Huan chuckles softly. “You’ll have to forgive me for the surprise. I insisted we end our trip short so I could return to work. Luckily, my brother was all too willing to accommodate me so he could begin preparing for classes.” Bless Lan Huan. He’s always been a convincing liar. “However, I was just leaving–”

“Brother,” Lan Zhan complains. He holds up two mismatched mugs above Wei Ying’s head. 

“I’m sure Wei Ying would be grateful for a refreshment in my place.” Lan Huan transforms his sly grin into a warm smile as Wei Ying turns back around. “It is very nice to finally make your acquaintance. I can assure you, although it is rare, my brother does smile too and it befits his face more handsomely than mine.”

All goodwill Lan Zhan had toward his brother fades. He never should have mentioned anything about Wei Ying. He never should have confided his inability to be anything but cold and uptight in Wei Ying’s presence. He should’ve remembered Lan Huan takes great delight in meddling. 

Lan Huan eyes the duct tape boundary on the floor with a conspicuously raised eyebrow, then slips past Wei Ying to the room’s entrance. He leans into Lan Zhan’s side and whispers “You’re welcome,” in a traitorously smug voice before finally leaving. Lan Zhan resists tripping his brother on the way out. 

Wei Ying collapses face-first into his bed and Lan Zhan follows him into the room, stepping over to his own side of the boundary. He holds the two mugs of tea at his chest awkwardly, waiting for the opportunity to offer one to his roommate. 

“I haven’t started any of my vacation assignments,” Wei Ying mumbles into his pillow. “And now I’ll get nothing done. I’m such a failure.”

“Wei Ying is not a failure,” Lan Zhan corrects automatically. Wei Ying is perfect. Though he manages to keep his more intense thoughts firmly inside his head, Lan Zhan still silently reprimands himself for letting fondness leak into his voice.

Wei Ying turns his head and looks up, half his face adorably smushed into his pillow. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how I spent the break without you.”

Lan Zhan has a good idea of how Wei Ying spent his time, since he posted a lot of it on Tiktok. Parties most nights. Karaoke. Flirting with strangers. Constant dehydration. But admitting this knowledge would be admitting far more, so Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything. He just holds out one mug across the boundary. 

Wei Ying sits up abruptly and immediately accepts the mug. He kicks off his shoes and settles back on his bed, cross-legged. “You didn’t tell me you had a brother,” he says, changing the subject. “He’s very good-looking.”

Lan Zhan mimics Wei Ying’s position on his own bed. “Many people think we look alike,” he says carefully. It’s not untrue, but it is deceptive of him to try and lure Wei Ying into complimenting him. Missing Wei Ying must have taken a great toll on his sanity for Lan Zhan to try something so pathetic. 

“I don’t think so,” Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan deflates. “He doesn’t look like he’s going to murder me if I spill this tea on the floor.”

“Do not spill–”

“I’m not going to do it on purpose!”

Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying takes an exaggeratingly slow sip of the tea…and then promptly dribbles it back into the cup. It should be gross. It IS gross. But it’s also cute. 

“You don’t like it?”

“No no, it’s fine. Just hot. Although, next time you make it for me–”

Next time. 

“–you could make it maybe five times stronger and try adding some fresh lemon or cinnamon. I die for cinnamon in green tea.”

Lan Zhan sets his mug down on the dresser between them; he never bothers with a coaster because the dresser is already irrevocably stained from all the students before them, and, though he would admit it to noone, the rejection of this tiny rule of etiquette secretly thrills him. He leaves the room swiftly, heading to the kitchen on an important mission. Wei Ying’s criticism of his tea doesn’t exactly hurt – he’s been called bland in every way possible before, including by Wei Ying – but he is determined to at least partially satisfy his roommate. 

He returns to the room minutes later, a cinnamon stick and a wedge of lemon on a small plate. He’s not expecting to find Wei Ying on his hands and knees, pulling out the giant tub of chilli flakes from under his bed. He clears his throat politely. 

Wei Ying snaps his head around, his face red. “Ah, Lan Zhan.” He sits up on his knees. “I wasn’t really going to put chilli in your tea. It’s–” His eyes fall to the plate in Lan Zhan’s hand. 

Suddenly Lan Zhan feels silly. Obvious. He shoves the plate ungracefully into Wei Ying’s hands, desperate to cease eye contact, and returns to his bed. 

“This is nice,” Wei Ying says, uncharacteristically soft. Lan Zhan does not look over, – he cannot – but his traitorous peripheral vision watches anyway. Wei Ying rolls the tub of chilli back under his bed and gets back on top, all the while staring at Lan Zhan’s plate. Probably working it out. Probably about to call the university supervisor and ask to move rooms. But Wei Ying only sighs and dumps the cinnamon stick into his tea.

“I die for cinnamon,” he repeats.

Lan Zhan hides his smile inside the lip of his mug. He adores Wei Ying’s dramatics. “Do not die in the dormroom.”

Wei Ying giggles, high-pitched and very nearly contagious. Though Lan Zhan’s heard the sound before, memorised the notes of it, he’s never deliberately caused it. He’s barely said anything to Wei Ying besides rules and reprimands. This…this is better. 

Lan Zhan feels warm inside, and not just from the tea. 

A new semester means all new classes, and more people for Lan Zhan to ignore. It means heightened anxiety, but it also means new thrilling coursework. Lan Zhan is most anticipating his new Animal Conservation class which came highly recommended by Wen Qing. 

For the first lecture, he takes his usual spot in the back left corner, furthest from the door. Though he knows he should be studious and take the front row, he discovered in his first year that he prefers a spot where he can take in the entire room, where nobody and nothing can catch him by surprise. 

So when Wei Ying strolls into the lecture hall, clad in his infamous leather jacket, Lan Zhan spots him immediately. Sit with me, he thinks furiously, even as he slinks further into his seat so as not to be seen. Notice me. Choose me. 

Wei Ying scans the room, waves at someone near the front, and heads towards them. Lan Zhan straightens and returns to setting up his stationary as he fights with the irrational jealousy that flushes through him. Why would he sit with you? You’re not friends. He hardly knows you. You don’t let him know you. 

“Lan Zhan! It is you!” Spiced orange overwhelms Lan Zhan as Wei Ying suddenly leans over the back row, draping himself over the back of the neighbouring chair. “I told Jin Zixuan there’s no way my uptight roommate would be sitting in the back row. I guess I don’t really know you, huh? Did you know I was taking this class too?”

Lan Zhan blinks up at Wei Ying and focuses on keeping his facial muscles still. “No, I did not know.” 

“Oh I see.” Wei Ying straightens up. “If you’d known, you would have chosen another class, right? Why do you hate me so much?”

“I–” love you . “I do not hate you.”

“Wow, that’s basically a confession of love, coming from you.”

Lan Zhan freezes, losing control of his face. He knew the cinnamon and lemon were too obvious, the love letter within them evident: I crave your happiness. I would do anything for you. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to it,” Wei Ying continues. “I have plenty of other suitors. Speaking of which…” He edges away from Lan Zhan. “ Excuse me–”

“You should be seated already,” rings out a firm authoritative voice from the front of the room.

The professor makes eye contact with Wei Ying and he sheepishly jumps the back row to sink into the chair by Lan Zhan. “I guess you’ll have to put up with me today,” he whispers.

The Professor introduces herself briefly and immediately launches into detailing the coursework. She doesn’t bother with a powerpoint presentation like most teachers and for this, Lan Zhan is grateful. She gets straight to the point and doesn’t waste time. 

Wei Ying sighs and leans into Lan Zhan’s side. The warmth of his body makes Lan Zhan shiver. “This is so boring,’ he says. “You know, some of us are visual learn–”

“You, in the back,” the professor calls out, one arm outstretched to point firmly at Wei Ying, “do you have something to say?”

“Yes, actually–”

“It was my fault, professor,” Lan Zhan quickly lies. Protect Wei Ying his monkey brain yells. Protect Wei Ying. “I accidentally elbowed him. He will be quiet now.”

Then, he really does elbow Wei Ying. (“Hey!” “Shhh.”) Gently, of course. He’s been excited to start this class all year. He will not be distracted into more <95% grades by his lovesick monkey brain. 

Lan Zhan listens to the rest of the professor’s speech intently, trying not to pay attention to the restless shuffling and regular sighs from his side. His shoulders sit uncomfortably tight from the effort of it all. 

At last when her discussion of coursework is complete, the professor asks the class to split into groups of two for the first assignment. Lan Zhan immediately stands and surveys the room, desperately searching to catch anyone’s eyes but Wei Ying’s. 

Wei Ying, still seated, tugs at his sleeve. “You’re being very rude, you know. Anyone would think you didn’t want to be my partner.”

Reward or punishment? Lan Zhan can’t keep track anymore. He sits back down and slowly turns towards Wei Ying. “We will need to agree on an animal.”

Wei Ying scrunches his nose. “She said to do introductions first.”

Lan Zhan stares at Wei Ying silently. I’ve known you for two and a half years now, he wants to scream. 

“Okay I’ll go first,’ Wei Ying says, folding his legs onto the seat. “I’m Wei Ying and I like getting drunk, spicy foods, karaoke, Prince obviously, Saweetie, Lady Gaga, getting caught in the rain but NOT pina coladas ew, climbing trees, The Witcher, Game of Thrones but only if Dany wins – NO SPOILERS PLEASE – reading but only steamy romances if you know what I mean...um...I also kinda like horror movies but I have to have the lights on, and–”

“Wei Ying.” I know all this. 

“Oh yeah, sorry, I’m hogging intro time. Your turn.”

“My name is Lan Zhan,” Lan Zhan says, while he desperately tries to think of any facts other than: I am in love with you. “I am 20 years old.” Good, that’s a normal thing to say. “I was born on January 23rd at 2.03am.” This isn’t too hard at all. “I am 188 centimetres tall.” 

“Ew, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying shakes his head but he’s smiling. “Don’t tell me facts. Tell me something not boring! What do you like?”

Wei Ying. “I…” Lan Zhan starts, but his throat is dry, and he has no idea what to say. What do I like? What do I like?

“Music? Games? Books? I know you like reading, any particular genre?”

You know this answer, Lan Zhan. Be normal. Lan Zhan clears his throat. “Non fiction.”

Wei Ying nods kindly. “That’s such a you answer, I love it.” He loves it. “What about…are there any foods you like or –I don’t know– seasons?”

“I prefer Autumn,” Lan Zhan says carefully. He thinks it’s a good answer but–

Wei Ying’s smile widens. Good. Good. “Why?”

“Oh.” Lan Zhan thinks about it. His face heats as he realises what he’s about to say, but he wants to tell Wei Ying anyway. “I like the way fallen leaves crunch under my feet.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Wei Ying bounces in his seat. “Isn’t it so satisfying!?”

Lan Zhan concentrates very hard on holding back a smile. “Mn,” he says carefully. 

“Alright, that’s it for today,” the professor announces. “If you don’t have a partner yet, come and see me.”

The assignment. Lan Zhan completely forgot. “We still have to choose an animal,” he says quickly before Wei Ying can run off to his real friends. 

Wei Ying slides his bag over his shoulder. “Now you get to spend even more time with me outside class. Aren’t you SO excited?”

“Mn.”

“Did you know there are this many endangered animals?” Wei Ying flicks through the library book, his loose hair almost covering his eyes. “I thought there would be like ten to choose from? This is so hard.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees, but he doesn’t share that the experience is hard for him for a different reason. They’re sitting on the floor of a library aisle – Wei Ying’s idea of course – with their legs bunched up and their shoulders touching. It’s impossible to be productive in this position. Not to mention Wei Ying is wearing a sleeveless top, so it’s his naked shoulder that presses into Lan Zhan. Yes, of course, Lan Zhan is wearing a t-shirt and a cardigan but he can still feel the nakedness of it through two layers of cotton. 

Lan Zhan shuffles a little away from Wei Ying’s shoulder, attempting to concentrate. Pathetic, he thinks to himself. You can’t even cope with his shoulder. “ I have a suggestion.”

“Yeah?”

Lan Zhan carefully picks up the book from Wei Ying’s legs. He checks the index, opens the book to the corresponding page, then places it back in place, all without touching any part of Wei Ying. 

“Oh my god,” Wei Ying says, as he tucks hair behind his ear, “Bunnies are endangered???”

“Only some breeds, like the Riverine–”

“But how can bunnies be endangered? They’re always you know…”

Wei Ying trails off. Lan Zhan waits. 

“Getting it on!” Wei Ying makes a crude gesture with his hands that resembles humping. Punishment. “Rabbits breed like rabbits!!!” He bursts into laughter, his dimples popping out in full force. Reward. 

Lan Zhan watches greedily until Wei Ying’s laughter peeters out and the dimples disappear. Then he looks away in shame. It’s rude to stare. You’re so creepy. “They have low survival rates.”

“Oh that’s so sad. Is that why they have sex so much? To keep replenishing their family? Wow, so sad, Lan Zhan. I’m glad I’m not a bunny rabbit. I mean I wouldn’t mind the getting it on part…”

Do not think about it. Do not think about it. 

“Come on Lan Zhan, crack a smile. Just once for me.” Wei Ying leans over, pushing his naked shoulder back into Lan Zhan’s. “I bet you look real pretty when you smile.”

Annoying my pretty roommate check!

Lan Zhan’s brain short circuits at the word pretty once more. He never cared much about how he looked until Wei Ying called him pretty in that Tiktok. Now if he just smiles, there’s the promise he might hear it again. It’s tempting. There’s always a smile lurking in him when he’s around Wei Ying. All he would have to do is stop hiding it. 

But that would be telling. And Wei Ying can never know how he feels. 

“Is the topic acceptable?” Lan Zhan asks instead.

“Bunnies?” Wei Ying beams. “If Lan Zhan wants to do bunnies, I want to do bunnies.”

Wei Ying is particularly studious when he’s focused on a project. It’s Lan Zhan that is slacking on the work, spending more time staring at Wei Ying reading than actually reading himself. Get a grip, lovesick boy , he tells himself. Then, Don’t ever call me lovesick boy again , he further tells himself. 

“Can I have the book on Black Eagles again?” Wei Ying asks distractedly. He’s lying on his bed, on his stomach, his head deep in another book and his legs lifted and crossed at the ankles. 

Immediately, Lan Zhan stands up and brings the book he was supposed to be reading (but hasn’t looked at in twenty minutes) to Wei Ying. Wei Ying’s eyes flick up as he reaches for the book. Then he gasps. 

“You crossed it!” He bounces to his knees on the bed, the book forgotten. “You crossed the boundary!”

Lan Zhan looks down. Both his feet are on Wei Ying’s side of the duct tape. How strange. He hadn’t even noticed. “Wei Ying, you asked me to pass you the book.”

Wei Ying shrugs, grinning. “You could have thrown it.”

The suggestion is so repulsive to Lan Zhan, it almost distracts him from Wei Ying’s dimples. Almost. “These are library books.”

“Whatever. You crossed the boundary. You broke the rules.” Wei Ying’s grin turns wicked. “You should be punished.”

Reward. Definitely reward. Lan Zhan schools his face into indifference. “How will I be punished?” This is flirting. I am flirting. Fuck, I’m flirting. 

“Hmm.” Wei Ying sits back on his legs and crosses his arms. “What’s a usual punishment for breaking the rules in your family?”

Lan Zhan’s suppressed glee turns into suppressed pain. 

“Oh, sorry,” Wei Ying says almost immediately. “That was rude. You don’t have to say. My family isn’t– well just my foster mum, I guess. That’s why I’m living here. She finally kicked me out.”

Lan Zhan remembers Wei Ying’s poorly packed suitcase at the start of the school year. He cringes as he recalls criticising it. No wonder Wei Ying hated him. He probably still hates you. 

“Your parents…” Lan starts, then falters. He’s always wanted to ask, but he’s never felt close enough to Wei Ying to be entitled to know. 

“My parents died when I was like three, maybe four? I don’t really remember. And there’s nobody to ask.”

Lan Zhan nods. “My father died last year and my mother left when I was young.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. Is that why you’re here? No offence but you don’t seem like the living-on-campus type.”

“I wanted to get away from my uncle.”

“And now you’re stuck with me.” Wei Ying starts to smile again. “Hey, pass me that book on falcons, too.”

He makes Lan Zhan cross the duct tape boundary another five times for increasingly arbitrary reasons. Lan Zhan obliges of course because Wei Ying’s attention, even when teasing, is decidedly more reward than punishment. 

Lan Zhin sits on the edge of his bed, hands gripped on the underside tightly. He’s going to hate it. He’s going to laugh. He’s going to know why. 

Wei Ying doesn’t notice when he enters the room. “Somebody left a shoe on the stairs. A Shoe!” He dives head first onto his bed as is his style, then turns his face to Lan Zhan. “Do you think it’s a protest? Should we be leaving our shoes too?”

Act normal. Act normal. “Why would it be a protest?”

“I don’t know. The stairs–” Wei Ying stops, his eyes focusing in on the window, then the floor, then flicking up to Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan breathes in. He’s rehearsed this. “It–”

Wei Ying jumps to his feet and raises a hand in silence. He keeps it up as he uses his other hand to dislodge his phone from his jeans and pull it to his ear. 

Without removing his eyes from Lan Zhan, he talks into the phone. “He’s removed the tape.” There’s a pause, then: 

“Huaisang, I don’t care if you’re hooking up. This is important. I just came back to our room and it’s completely gone.”
    …
“He’s sitting on his bed.”
    …
“Yes I’m talking in front of him.”
    …
“Huaisang!” (Wei Ying looks away and lowers his voice.) “I’m not going to sleep in Lan Zhan’s bed again!”
    …
“Shut up. I’m hanging up now.”

Wei Ying throws his phone onto the bed and looks back at Lan Zhan. His cheeks are flushed. “Why?” he finally asks. 

“It did not appear to be working.”

Wei Ying laughs. Then, he dramatically steps over to what was previously Lan Zhan’s side and sits down on Lan Zhan’s bed, leaving a small gap between them. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

Lan Zhan thinks about his answer. Is it acceptable to agree? Is it acceptable to get something he wants so badly? Is it what Wei Ying wants? He sneaks a glance at Wei Ying beside him and his eyes zero in on the closest dimple. “Mn.”

“Oh my god!” Wei Ying jumps up. “This is a groundbreaking moment. Can I put it on instagram?” he asks, already grabbing his phone. He returns to Lan Zhan’s side and throws an arm over his shoulder. 

Lan Zhan stares up at the phone held in Wei Ying’s other hand, pointing down at them. Wei Ying is beaming. Lan Zhan shifts his expression into mild content. He hopes this conveys friendship adequately. 

Wei Ying withdraws his arm from Lan Zhan’s shoulder but doesn’t move away. He types on his phone, adding very small text over Lan Zhan’s shirt: #mynewfriendlanzhan

Lan Zhan stares at the words until Wei Ying posts the story and it disappears from the screen. 

“So,” Wei Ying says, throwing his phone back onto the other bed. “You have any other friends here?”

“No.” I’m difficult to like. 

“Why not?”

Say something cool. “I am focusing on study.” 

“Right, good. That’s good. If you ever want to hang out though, you could sit with me and my friends at lunch.”

Yes. Please. “I study at lunch.”

“Oh and you should come out with us tonight!”

YES. “I am studying tonight.”

Wei Ying shrugs and returns to his own bed. “Then I’ll study too,” he says, already pulling a book from his bag. 

A small tightness in Lan Zhan’s chest eases its hold. “You’re not going out with your friends?”

“Nah.” Wei Ying smiles. “I’m staying-in with my friend. We can study together! I’m still finishing my parts in our bunny project. I wanna do you proud.”

Lan Zhan’s lips betray him, slipping into a small smile, but he catches himself before Wei Ying sees. Lan Huan has been right all these years: it’s nice to have a friend. 

“We rocked it!” Wei Ying whispers. “We were the best here. If that doesn’t get one hundo, then the professor has no taste.”

We were the best, Lan Zhan silently agrees, but to Wei Ying he whispers, “Be respectful to the other groups.”

Wei Ying leans in closer. “But ours was the best so far, right?”

Humility is a virtue, Lan Zhan thinks, but to Wei Ying he offers a very small nod.

“Yesssss!” Wei Ying claps Lan Zhan on the back. “I’m so buzzed! We should celebrate!”

Lan Zhan keeps his eyes on the team still presenting at the front of the lecture hall, even as he senses Wei Ying turning completely to face him. “Be respectful to the other groups,” he says again, but secretly he prefers Wei Ying looking at him. 

“Lan Zhan, I’m serious! We have to go out. Oh my god, I have the best idea!”

“Shhh,” Lan Zhan says gently, but he doesn’t mind when Wei Ying continues anyway. 

“Okay, hear me out, there’s this karaoke bar just outside campus. It sounds silly but it’s so much fun. And you don’t have to sing if you don’t want to. It’s fully optional.”

There’s nothing Lan Zhan wants to do more. So of course he says nothing. 

“The only tiny little thing is that it doesn’t really get good until like ten. I know that’s past your bedtime but it’s worth it and this is a celebration. Ooh! You could even have a nap now to make up for it and then meet me there. Yes, that is a great idea! I am so smart! I’ll write the address on your arm.”

Lan Zhan instinctively pulls his arm back from the armrest between them. Avoiding Wei Ying’s touch has greatly improved his reflexes. 

“Or on your notebook,” Wei Ying adds, though his voice is notably less enthusiastic than before. 

Lan Zhan brings his arm back into Wei Ying’s range and holds it out for the taking. He might as well get on one knee given how obvious he is. 

Wei Ying’s hand clasps Lan Zhan’s forearm, holding it steady as he writes over Lan Zhan’s wrist. Can he feel my pulse bursting through my skin? Relax, Lan Zhan. Friends touch each other. This is normal. You’re the weird one making it weird. 

“Done,” Wei Ying announces. “It’s a date!”

Lan Zhan looks down to Wei Ying’s messy scrawl on his arm. There’s a heart next to the address. A heart. Do not faint. 

Lan Zhan doesn’t nap. He gets in bed but all he can do is roll back and forth. Notably, he spends much more time on his left side so he can stare at the heart on his right arm. Just before ten, he freshens his clothes and heads out. 

Flashing pink lights assault Lan Zhan as he enters the dingy bar. It’s bigger than it looks from the outside but it still has a cramped atmosphere. He recognises a lot of students from the same university in the packed entranceway. 

“You came!” Wei Ying pops up next to Lan Zhan. His shirt is almost completely unbuttoned. Lan Zhan thinks back to the Tiktok. Is this where…?

No. Focus. Be normal. 

“ You invited me. Did you not want me to come?”

“Hahaha, you’re so funny Lan Zhan. We should have been friends sooner.” Wei Ying hooks his arm around Lan Zhan’s and leads him through the throng of bodies to a slightly less packed table area. Lan Zhan recognises Wei Ying’s brother, Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying’s best friend Nie Huaisang, as well as Wei Qing and her brother Wen Ning. He’s never actually seen Wen Ning before but the family resemblance is obvious. 

He allows himself one second of mourning that Wei Ying didn’t actually invite him out on a date. It’s your fault for reading into a single heart like a teenager. Then he schools his face into a pleasant expression for the inevitable introductions. 

“Everyone, this is my roommate, Lan Zhan. He doesn’t usually stay up past nine so it’s a very big deal he has chosen to hang out with us tonight. Be nice.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “You be nice.”

“Wei Ying is always nice,” says Lan Zhan quickly. 

Jiang Cheng bursts out laughing. Lan Zhan stares at him. He stops laughing and scowls into his beer. “I thought he was joking.”

“Shut up. I am nice. Thank you Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying turns briefly to smile at Lan Zhan. Beautiful. “Anyway the rude one is my brother Jiang Cheng. Don’t talk to him if you want to have a good night. This is Wen Qing, the smartest person you will ever meet, but don’t cross her, or you will die.” 

“I’ve known Lan Zhan longer than you, loser,” Wen Qing says to Wei Ying. To Lan Zhan, she sticks out her tongue.

“Yeah, well I live with him!” Wei Ying retorts, and Lan Zhan quietly preens at the hint of jealousy in his voice. Even if it's just in friendship, Lan’s Zhan’s never had anyone fight over him before and he quite likes it. 

“And,” Wei Ying continues in a slightly haughtier tone, “this is her brother Wen Ning who is the kindest person you will ever meet, even if you cross him. But rest assured if that happens, both Wen Qing and I will do the killing on his behalf.”

“I could handle it myself,” Wen Qing interjects while her brother beams up at Lan Zhan.

“Last and certainly least…” Wei Ying continues.

“Hey!”

“...is Nie Huaisang, my best friend. If I hadn’t met him on the first day of uni, I’d have been so lonely, I would’ve already dropped out by now.”

Jiang Cheng looks up from his beer. “What about me–”

“But,” Wei Ying continues, turning to Lan Zhan, “that was before I knew I would be rooming with you this year of course.” 

Do not blush, Lan Zhan thinks desperately but he feels his face heat all the same. 

“Oh my god, where are my manners? You need a drink already. Wait here.” Wei Ying pushes him down into an empty seat and darts off through the crowd. 

Lan Zhan watches him go fondly. Something soft hits him in the shoulder and he turns back to the group to find a cocktail umbrella in his lap. 

“So,” Wen Qing says across the table, “how long have you been dating?”

Lan Zhan swallows. “We aren’t– we’re not–”

“Since you’ve been fucking then,” Wen Qing adds impatiently. She waves a hand. “I don’t care about the labels.”

You’re so obvious, Lan Zhan. Everybody knows. “We’re not fucking either,” he says clearly.

“Hmmm,” Wen Qing says cryptically, then falls back into her seat. 

Jiang Cheng huffs. “What are you talking about? They don’t even like each other.”

“I like Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says before he can stop himself. Is that a normal thing to say? Friends like each other. Wait, but do friends say they like each other? 

“ Then you have bad taste,” Jiang Cheng says. He lowers his voice so only Lan Zhan can hear. “But don’t fucking hurt him.”

“Here,” Wei Ying says, holding a glass over Lan Zhan’s shoulder.  “I picked you as a classy white wine kind of guy. Was I right?”

Lan Zhan accepts the glass and places it on the table. “I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying’s head hovers at Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “Like at all? Are you sure?”

“Wei Ying!” admonishes Wen Qing.

“Yes, I am sure.”

“Right, sorry.” Wei Ying leans over Lan Zhan’s shoulder, draping his entire body against Lan Zhan’s back. What is happening. What is happening. Wei Ying picks up the glass, and throws it back in a couple of gulps. “Oh that is disgusting.” He pushes away from Lan Zhan’s back. “You made the right choice. I am so sorry I bought that for you.”

“Don’t pretend like you spent money,” Jiang Cheng says sourly. “Bartenders always give you free drinks.”

“She’s been giving ME free drinks,” Wei Ying corrects. “Apparently the offer does not extend to my friends, even the equally good looking ones.” He nudges Lan Zhan. Equally good-looking. “I think she’s jealous. Shame, I thought she’d be up for a threesome.”

Lan Zhan can’t help his mouth falling open. He closes it instantly. Luckily Wei Ying is behind him so doesn’t see.

“He’s joking,” Wen Qing says to Lan Zhan, smirking. She saw. She saw. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Excuse you, I am perfectly serious. If the opportunity presented itself, I am not against–”

Jiang Cheng groans. “Please shut up. Every time you open your mouth, your roommate looks like he’s about to have a stroke.”

Lan Zhan neutralises his face, his posture, his everything. Has he always been this obvious?

“His name is Lan Zhan, thank you very much. And he’s very hard to read so if I, having known him for months, can’t tell what he’s thinking, then neither can you.” 

Lan Zhan relaxes. Slightly. 

Wei Ying bends down by Lan Zhan’s side. “Ignore him. I always do. What do you drink? Juice? Coke? Wait, sparkling water right? You’re so fancy. I’m going to get you a sparkling water.”

“Who’s the bartender tonight?” Nie Huaisang asks as Wei Ying disappears. 

“The hot one with piercings,” Wen Qing answers instantly. 

Nie Huaisang chuckles. “No wonder Wei Ying keeps going back, hey?”

Lan Zhan looks down at the heart on his arm, suddenly feeling very silly. You’re friends, he tells himself. Get it in your head. Just friends. 

When Wei Ying returns, he sits by Lan Zhan’s side, pressed close, and often leans even further in to talk past Lan Zhan and steal everyone else’s drinks. Lan Zhan endures it quietly, painfully. The worst is when Wei Ying laughs by his ear, at the latest bad karaoke performer, or at his friends and as the night latens, or just because.

During a weak but sweet karaoke rendition of Die with a Smile, Wei Ying drops his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. 

Stay still. Do not panic. 

“Are you having a good time?” Wei Ying asks softly. “If you’re not having a good time I can pretend to be drunk so you have to take me safely back to our room?”

Lan Zhan breathes in Wei Ying’s hair. It’s muddled with smoke and sweat, but he can still smell the orange of Wei Ying’s shampoo through it all. “You are drunk already.”

“Pfft, this is nothing. Once we went to four bars and a club in one night and–”

“–you vomited in your bed,” Lan Zhan finishes. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were there for the end of that. It’s actually not a very good story is it?”

I would listen to you recite the Fibonacci sequence. Lan Zhan detangles himself from Wei Ying and stands up. “If you are not drunk enough, I will get you another drink.”

Wei Ying tugs him back down. “No no, I got this. Look at my face.” He cradles his face with both hands and pouts. “I always get free drinks.”

Jealousy twirls nastily in Lan Zhan’s stomach. Before he can convince himself not to, Lan Zhan follows Wei Ying to the bar. 

The bartender with piercings is easy to spot. Her hair is shaved on one side, showing off the piercings from her inner ear, all the way back around to her earlobes. She leans over the bar as Wei Ying approaches, her scowl turning immediately into a smile. Wei Ying leans in too.

Lan Zhan gets closer, his whole body humming with negative energy. 

“If you weren’t so pretty,” Wei Ying is saying, “I wouldn’t have to stop by so often.”

The bartender rolls her eyes, but she’s obviously charmed. Lan Zhan understands. Being called pretty by Wei Ying is life-changing. 

“The same again?” she asks.

“Unless you have something sweeter to share.” 

The bartender leans back and makes eye contact with Lan Zhan hovering behind. She keeps looking at him as she expertly starts on Wei Ying’s drink. 

This is Wei Ying’s type, Lan Zhan thinks. I can pierce my ears. Another voice chimes in: But you can’t change your personality.  

The bartender’s eyebrows furrow as she grabs the soda gun. “Who’s your friend?” she asks. 

Wei Ying turns around, spots Lan Zhan, smiles, and drags him up to the bar. “This is my roommate.”

That’s all you are, Lan Zhan. Roommates. Get it in your head. 

The bartender stiffens. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise he was your roommate.”

“Yeah, he’s my roommate,” Wei Ying repeats. 

“Good for you.” She places a glass on the bartop. “That’ll be twelve dollars.”

“But…wait…”

Lan Zhan passes his card to the bartender and, desperate to get the word ‘roommates’ out of his head, picks up Wei Ying’s drink. He ignores Wei Ying’s squeals and downs it completely in one chug. Whatever it is, it burns and immediately makes Lan Zhan want to throw up. But it’s the distraction he needs, from Wei Ying, from his heart, from his stupid head. Heat fills his chest, and just for a second it overpowers the tightness that lives there. Lan Zhan smiles to himself and wanders into the crowd.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying looks from Lan Zhan’s retreating back to the suddenly hostile bartender. 

“I’ll take his card back,” he offers since Lan Zhan uncharacteristically abandoned it. And uncharacteristically chugged an entire vodka lemonade. And maybe uncharacteristically smiled. However, Wei Ying’s pretty sure he imagined that part. 

Black nailed fingers slide the car over the sticky bartop. Wei Ying has to use both hands to unstick it. He has no idea how he managed to go from charming to pissing off the bartender, but the change seemed to start when Lan Zhan appeared. 

“He’s my roommate,” he explains again. She snorts unkindly and turns away. 

Wei Ying looks for Lan Zhan everywhere: the bathrooms, the smoker’s alley, the front entrance and finally the dance floor because it seems the least likely place. It’s no surprise when he’s not there. Lan Zhan hates crowds…and touching…and sweat…and potentially people. Wei Ying returns to his table of friends, a little panicked. 

“Has anyone seen Lan Zhan? He wandered off and I don’t think he’s had alcohol before and this isn’t really his kind of place and I made him come so–”

“He’s fine!” Jiang Cheng says grumpily. “Stop obsessing.”

Wei Ying actually sags with relief. “You’ve seen him?” 

“We can all see him,” Wen Qing says, then she nods past Wei Ying’s shoulder. 

Wei Ying spins on the spot and–

I can’t believe what you said to me last night when we were alone

There, under flashing pink lights, looking wholly at home with a microphone in his hands, is Lan Zhan.

I can’t believe how you looked at me with your James Dean glossy eyes

“He’s singing Gaga?” Wei Ying whispers mostly to himself. Lan Zhan’s not just singing Lady Gaga, he’s absolutely owning the song with his gentle deep voice. “How does he even know this song? He doesn’t know this song!”

Huaisang prods Wei Ying’s back. “I thought you said he was a fuddy-duddy,”

“He IS a fuddy-duddy. Well, kind of. Well…” Wei Ying stares and stares and stares. “I guess not at all.”

I’ll never talk again
Oh boy you’ve left me speechless

“He has a great voice,” says Wen Qing from somewhere behind Wei Ying. “He's a music major, right?”

Wei Ying shrugs, unable to turn away. “I don’t know.”

“So you don’t know his name for months and now you don’t even know what he’s studying?”

And I know that it’s so complicated
But I'm a loser in love

“He doesn’t talk much.” But when he does, Wei Ying thinks, when he does…

“He talked plenty to us,” Huaisang says. 

Wei Ying whips his head around. “What? When?”

Huaisang smirks. “While you were flirting with the bartender.”

“She has a daith piercing. You know I can’t resist a daith piercing!”

Huaisang laughs until Jiang Cheng shoves him. 

And after all the drinks and bars that we’ve been to
Would you give it all up?
Could I give it all up for you?

Wei Ying turns back to the stage. “Holy shit, he’s incredible.”

“You’re up next,” Wen Qing says. 

“I’m not following this! I’ll be laughed off the stage.”

Someone shoves Wei Ying from behind. It’s probably Jiang Cheng. “You have to sing, idiot.” It was Jiang Cheng. “You’re the one who keeps making us come back here.”

“Yeah, but if Lan Zhan really is a music major, I can’t sing in front of him.”

“Why not?” Wen Ning asks. “You’re alright.”

“Yes, alright to sing in front of other talentless people–”

“Hey!” Jiang Cheng and Huaisang shout in unison. 

“–But not alright enough to sing in front of an actual musician. He’ll know every note I miss. He’ll chart it on an excel spreadsheet and stick it to the wall above my bed so I’ll be forever reminded of how awful I am.”

Wen Qing scoffs. “I highly doubt he would do that.”

“Okay, but he’d think about doing it.”

If I promised boy to you
That I’ll never talk again
And I’ll never love again

“Listen to how good he is!” Wei Ying looks around, making sure the entire bar is appreciating the magic of Lan Zhan. Closer to the stage, there’s a guy hunched up with a handkerchief. “Look! He made that guy over there cry!”

“I’m not sure that’s–”

“He’s making people feel things.” He’s making me feel things, Wei Ying thinks, but he’s not sure what, except that he has goosebumps. 

Will you ever talk again?
Oh boy, why you so speechless?
You’ve left me speechless, so speechless

“He’s almost done. I’ve gotta…” Wei Ying runs to the stage and stares up at Lan Zhan, singing quietly along to the final words. 

Some men may follow me
But you choose death and company
Why you so speechless?
Oh oh

Wei Ying applauds, wolf-whistles and stamps his feet. As Lan Zhan hands the microphone back to the organiser, he glances down and makes eye contact. Then, he smiles. 

He smiles.

It’s not Wei Ying’s imagination this time. Because Wei Ying blinks like three times and Lan Zhan’s still smiling down at him. Then Lan Zhan walks toward the front of the stage and–

Wei Ying half catches, half acts as a cushion, as Lan Zhan falls off the stage. It’s not a big drop but Lan Zhan is kind of a big guy. Still, Wei Ying’s been under plenty of big guys so it’s nothing new. He uses his coveted power-bottom strength to push them both back up to standing. 

“What happened?” Lan Zhan asks, and up close Wei Ying can see his eyes are glossy, a little glazed over. 

“Wait. Are you drunk? After one drink?”

Lan Zhan smirks. He actually smirks! “Four,” he says,  holding up three fingers. “I can get drinks for free too.” Then he spins around and zigzags through the crowds.

Wei Ying catches up easily. He tries to lead Lan Zhan back to the table but Lan Zhan is not cooperative so he just follows closely, gripping onto Lan Zhan’s arm so as not to lose him again.  

“How can you be this drunk and sing like that?” Wei Ying asks. 

“I had lessons. And–” he leans in as if to share a secret– “I have a naturally beautiful voice.”

“Oh my god, Lan Zhan. I’ve never heard you brag before. What else are you good at?”

Lan Zhan shrugs his arm out of Wei Ying’s grip only to grab Wei Ying’s hand instead. “I have nice hands.”

“Wow.” Wei Ying looks down at their clasped hands as Lan Zhan drags him further across the bar. Lan Zhan’s hands are nice. His fingertips are hard, calloused like a musician’s hands, but the rest of his skin is soft and his palm is startlingly hot. 

“Hey!” Lan Zhan suddenly yells. “I have something to tell you.”

Wei Ying looks up but Lan Zhan’s not talking to him. They’re at the bar and the bartender with the daith piercing is turning around…

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers urgently, “I don’t think–”

“We,” Lan Zhan says loudly, lifting up Wei Ying’s hand in his own, “are roommates.”

Not this again! Wei Ying will be kicked out of the bar at this point. He mouths sorry to the bartender but thankfully she just rolls her eyes and walks away. 

“Wait–” Lan Zhan says, starting to follow her along the bar.

Wei Ying grabs him forcibly around the shoulders and pushes him into a bar seat. “I think we’ve offended her enough tonight.”

Luckily Lan Zhan seems content to give up on whatever alcohol-enhanced delusion pulled him to the bartender. He slumps in his seat, leaning back against the bar. “Wei Ying,” he says in a very loud whisper. “I have a secret. Shhhhhhh.”

Wei Ying is desperate to hear the secret. This is Lan Zhan. The man is a vault. He never makes any expression (until now – he’s still smiling) and only his pink ears ever give him away. To learn a secret from Lan Zan would be groundbreaking. 

But not like this. 

“Lan Zhan. You can tell me tomorrow, okay. Right now–”

Lan Zhan pouts. He pouts! “Wei Ying doesn’t want to know my secret,” he says glumly. 

“I do want to know! But–”

“Okay,” Lan Zhan says happily. “My secret–”

Wei Ying desperately slaps a hand over Lan Zhan’s mouth. Lan Zhan’s lips close slowly, dragging against Wei Ying’s skin. His breath is hot. Goosebumps return, unbidden, to Wei Ying’s arm. Lan Zhan’s eyes dip, looking down at Wei Ying’s hand. Then something so surprising happens, Wei Ying jerks his hand back. 

Lan Zhan laughs when he’s drunk.

At first, Wei Ying is certain he’s imagining it. That the five vodka lemonades, two shots and one glass of wine are affecting his sensory perception. That it’s some sort of alcohol-induced optical illusion when Lan Zhan’s mouth moves in sync with the soft giggle hitting Wei Ying’s ears.

Then Lan Zhan does it again. And Wei Ying realises he’s in love.

He’s not one to fall in love flippantly. In fact, prior to three and a half seconds ago, he’d never fallen in love at all. He puts up a brave (and often flirtatious) facade but after spending his early years in foster care, Wei Ying knows trust should never be given easily.

And falling in love is a very trusting thing to do.

“Wei Ying,” whispers drunk Lan Zhan. He slides off his bar stool and sways forward, dropping his forehead to rest on Wei Ying’s shoulder. “Take me home.”

Reasoning with drunk Lan Zhan is practically impossible. He followed Wei Ying home willingly but now inside their room, he’s suddenly contrary. 

“Get in bed,” Wei Ying orders for the third time, holding up the sheets for good measure. He hopes the promise of being tucked in might persuade this new childish version of Lan Zhan.

“No, you!”

Wei Ying sighs and places the sheets down. He’d like to consider himself exasperated but in truth all he feels is fond. Very fond. Too fond. Dangerously fond. “If I get into bed, will you get into bed?”

Lan Zhan appears to think about this for a long time, the precious frown line between his eyebrows returning. “...Mn.”

Relieved, Wei Ying makes a show of getting into his own bed across the room, demonstrating to Lan Zhan how the very simple act is performed. Pull back the covers, slip inside, lay head back against pillow, pull covers up to chin . Simple, right?

Apparently not. 

Lan Zhan shakes his head back and forth slowly with his still glazed-over drunken eyes.

“What now?”

“Get in bed,” Lan Zhan regurgitates.

“I am in bed.”

“No,” Lan Zhan says like Wei Ying is very very stupid, before pointing at his own bed. “Get in bed.”

Oh. Wei Ying cringes, wondering if this is Lan Zhan’s strange drunken way of finally admonishing him for that time he was caught sleeping in Lan Zhan’s bed near the start of the uni year. It was supposed to be a joke. When Lan Zhan found him, Wei Ying was going to laugh and make fun of the useless duct tape. But then he’d actually fallen asleep and when he woke, it was the middle of the day. They’d never spoken of it after and Wei Ying had naively hoped Lan Zhan had forgotten. But obviously not. 

Wei Ying throws his sheets back and stands up, at a loss of how to proceed. If Lan Zhan won’t get in bed, Wei Ying can hardly force him. At least he accepted and dutifully chugged the three glasses of water Wei Ying brought back from the shared kitchen earlier.

“Do you want to watch TV?” Wei Ying suggests. “I have Jiang Cheng’s Netflix pass–”

Apparently, Lan Zhan does not want to watch TV, judging from the way he barrels past and all but jumps into Wei Ying’s bed. He pulls up the blue sheets to his chin and says again, “Get in bed!”

Wei Ying understands now, or, at least, he understands what Lan Zhan’s asking for. The rationale behind it is still a mystery. He crosses the room and tentatively sits on Lan Zhan’s bed.

“Yes!” Lan Zhan claps his hands together, an uncharacteristically large smile on his flawless face. “Get in bed!”

Wei Ying obeys, falling back into Lan Zhan’s pillow and the familiar fragrance of what he now knows is sandalwood. Guilt settles in his stomach for invading Lan Zhan’s space once again, especially now that he’s caught feelings.

Yet, Lan Zhan is finally quiet so Wei Ying doesn’t dare move. He states up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the paint with his eyes. There’s an odd discolouring to one of the ceiling corners he’s never noticed before. It’s the same view as from his own bed, just a slightly different angle. Funny how that changes everything. 

“Goodnight, Lan Zhan,” he whispers. I love you, he doesn’t add.

Wei Ying wakes up to a welcoming and stifling smell of sandalwood. For a second, before his hangover hits him, he is his usual carefree and reckless self. Wei Ying, the perpetual fuck-up, but at least he always fucks up in style, right? Then, his head pounds, his stomach lurches and he remembers: he’s in love.

Oh fuck. 

Love is supposed to be a happy thing, that much Wei Ying knows. And it was last night when Wei Ying was drunk on more than just alcohol. In the morning though, waking up in Lan Zhan’s bed, he’s mostly just anxious.

Wait, Lan Zhan!

Wei Ying sits up and glances over at his bed but Lan Zhan is already gone, and the only evidence he slept there at all are the crisply tucked sheets. It’s probably the first time all year Wei Ying’s bed has been made. 

Wei Ying’s anxiety heightens. What does Lan Zhan remember from last night? Was he too drunk to notice Wei Ying’s love-stricken doe-eyes? Had Wei Ying given himself away by allowing Lan Zhan to sleep in his bed?

Or, worse, what if he doesn’t remember anything and thinks it was Wei Ying’s idea to swap beds! How can Wei Ying deny that accusation when he has a shameful history of doing exactly that?

Either way, Wei Ying doesn’t want to have the conversation. He wants to run and hide and change room assignments, no, change unis, so he never has to see Lan Zhan again.

Is this what love is?

Ah, but that’s the rub isn’t it? He wants to run away but simultaneously he can’t bear the thought of not seeing Lan Zhan. Even now, he longs to find out where Lan Zhan is and listen out for his laughter every second of every day. Even if all it makes him feel is lonely and anxious and awkward.

Fuck fuck fuck. This is not good.

The door opens and Wei Ying all but tumbles out of bed and to his feet. He’s still dressed in his unbuttoned button-down and black skinny jeans from the night before. And yes, the waistband is killing him. But it’s the least of his problems. 

Lan Zhan enters, freshly showered and clothed, and not looking a single bit hungover. It’s not fair at all. He is literally an angel. Or is that Wei Ying’s brain being infected by lovesickness?

“Good morning, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says politely like he always does. Like he wasn’t giggling and demanding to sleep in Wei Ying’s bed last night.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats back because, and this is a very new experience for him, he can’t think of any other words. 

Lan Zhan crosses the room. Not that there is any such boundary anymore. Only a single inch of stubborn duct tape remains on the lower half of the windowsill. Lan Zhan stops in front of Wei Ying. It’s a reasonable, respectful distance but it feels both too close and too far all at once.

“Did I–” Lan Zhan starts and falters. He clears his throat. “Do I need to apologise for anything from last night?” he asks.

So, he doesn’t remember. Okay, Wei Ying can work with this, he can–

“Not unless you count literally begging to sleep in my bed and forcing me to sleep in yours. You’re a very intimidating drunk, you know.”

Yes, he’s laying it on a little thick but he has his dignity to protect; his heart is at stake here!

Lan Zhan, as much as he can look anything with his almost-expressionless sober face, looks horrified. Basically, his ears are red. “I am sorry,” he says. “I will buy you new sheets.”

“Whoa,” Wei Ying backtracks, immediately feeling guilty. “Never mind that. It’s not like you have cooties. In fact, your presence probably made my sheets cleaner.”

Oh no, I’m rambling. 

“Not that they were dirty. I wash them.” Correction: he washed them once after an unfortunate vomiting incident and never again since. “Not that I’m dirty. Just that you’re clean. Not that you can’t be dirty. Everyone can be dirty. If they want to be. Not that anyone wants to be dirty. Except if we’re talking like, you know, wink-emoji type of dirty. Which we’re not. I mean I’m not. I’m definitely not talking about you being–”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts firmly. There’s the barest hint of a smile in the tiniest corner of his mouth (or is Wei Ying wishing it into existence?). “Thank you for looking after me last night.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. What are roommates for?”

“I’m sure you said something about liking someone last night, Lan Zhan?” Huaisang probes at lunch. 

Wei Ying leans against a tree trunk beside Lan Zhan, with Huaisang and Wen Qing sitting across from them. He keeps still, worried any sudden movement will make his interest in this particular question far too obvious. Lan Zhan’s shoulder brushes marginally against his own, and it takes all Wei Ying’s determination not to brush back. 

“I do not remember,” Lan Zhan says for perhaps the seventh time in as many minutes. He is almost certainly regretting joining Wei Ying at lunch for the first time.

“I admit maybe I was wrong about the bunny thing,” Huaisang says (Wei Ying knows he wasn’t – drunk Lan Zhan did, in fact, do an impression of a bunny’s twitching nose last night as they said goodbye to his friends), “but you definitely said something about liking someone. Didn’t he, Wen Qing?”

Wen Qing’s gaze passes over Wei Ying and it’s so obvious she knows what Wei Ying’s thinking, what he’s feeling . He can only hope his lovesick face is not obvious to everyone else.

“Yes,” Wen Qing finally agrees. “Lan Zhan definitely mentioned a crush before karaoke. You were in the bathroom for like ten minutes, Wei Ying.”

“I was searching for Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says defensively. It’s bad enough his friends are talking about Lan Zhan’s crush in front of him, do they have to talk about Wei Ying’s toilet habits too? 

“Whatever. You were gone a long time.”

Wei Ying sulks as his friends continue to talk about Lan Zhan’s crush like it’s a juicy piece of gossip and not the end of Wei Ying’s world. Who is it? Wei Ying wants to ask. How? Why? What does someone have to do to spark Lan Zhan’s interest? Wei Ying would be willing to go to bed at nine every night if it meant impressing Lan Zhan. He would wear white and take singing lessons, and even give up alcohol. He would even stop talking as much. Lan Zhan doesn’t like how much Wei Ying talks, that much is obvious. But maybe if Wei Ying tried– 

“You are quiet today.”

It’s Lan Zhan, voice soft at Wei Ying’s ear, a private compliment just for him. Perhaps it is already working, then. Perhaps Lan Zhan can tolerate a quiet Wei Ying. Perhaps Lan Zhan could grow to love a quiet, un-Wei-Ying-like Wei Ying.

Wei Ying burns to reply, to crack an inappropriate joke or catch Lan Zhan up to speed on all the many things that have run through his head since hearing him laugh last night. But he says nothing. Despite all his instincts, he simply nods. If Lan Zhan wants quiet, Wei Ying will become quiet.

Wei Ying has been quiet all day. It’s not been without some slips – how could he not correct Huaisang claiming How Bad Do U Want Me is Lady Gaga’s best hit… hello , are we forgetting Born This Way ??? – but he still considers it a challenge well met. Lan Zhan has definitely noticed; he’s looking at Wei Ying more than usual, which can only mean it’s working. That or somehow Wei Ying’s now managing to annoy Lan Zhan with his presence alone.

Laying in bed is the hardest. All the missed conversations of the day, the unspoken quips, the questions and the anecdotes circle around in Wei Ying’s head begging to be given space in his throat. He never realised how often he talked a day until now. No wonder Lan Zhan prefers someone else.

He rolls over in bed, breathing in the faint traces of sandalwood lingering on his pillow. Then tosses the other way to escape. It’s no use. The scent follows him, haunting him. He wonders if Lan Zhan has a similar problem in his own bed. He wonders if Lan Zhan will purchase new sheets again because of it. He wonders–

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan’s voice is perfect and clear, unmarred by sleep. It’s one am. “Are you still awake?”

Wei Ying bites down his response and rolls over once more.

Wei Ying hates being quiet. He wonders how Lan Zhan mastered it so well. Practice, he supposes, and actually being an emotional stable person.  

Like Wei Ying, Lan Zhan chooses to stay on campus for the last break of the year, and without the routine of classes, the silence in their room feels larger, harder to maintain. So Wei Ying spends most days with his laptop in Wen Ning’s bed, while Wen Ning is off travelling with his sister. Huaisang is welcoming to a point but he kicks Wei Ying out at least once a day for his sock-on-the-door time.

“Come on, Huaisang, do you have to be so regular?” Wei Ying points to the bootlegged stream of Game of Thrones on his laptop. “I’m finally up to the ‘red wedding’ episode everyone talks about and literally nobody is wearing red, not even the bride and groom so I’m super confused and I must–”

Huaisang snaps the laptop shut. He stands over Wei Ying’s bed (well, technically Wen Ning’s) with an uncharacteristically fierce expression. “If you don’t like it, you can find someone else’s room to crash in.”

There’s something odd about Huaisang’s insistence; he’s not usually a demanding person but he’s been very particular about kicking Wei Ying out every afternoon before three. The pieces finally assemble in Wei Ying’s head.

“Wait, are you– is someone coming over?”

“No,” Huaisang says immediately. Too fast. “Of course not. I don’t know. Shut up.”

Wei Ying gasps. “You really do have someone coming over right now to do the dirty! Huaisang, why didn’t you tell me?”

Huaisang looks away, suddenly very interested in examining the cracks of paint surrounding the windowsill. “I don’t know, it’s nothing.”

Wei Ying jumps up from the bed, Game of Thrones and inappropriately titled weddings far from his mind now. He inserts himself between Huaisang and the window. “It is not nothing. Who are they? Do I know them? Are they in your psychology course? Is that how you met? When can I meet them?”

“Nobody. Yes. No. No.” Huaisang shakes his head profusely. “I don’t know!”

“Huaisang! Who–”

“Get out now or I’ll tell you how Game of Thrones ends. You favourite character Dany–”

“Hey, hey now!” Wei Ying interrupts, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Spoilers are a sin, you know.” He quickly snatches his laptop and backs away to the door. “I’ll find out who you’re seeing, anyway. I’m very good at these things.”

“Jon Snow is her–”

“Leaving!” Wei Ying shouts and dashes from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

The threat of spoilers dealt with, Wei Ying takes a moment to consider Huaisang’s dating prospects. It can’t be Jiang Cheng because, well, Jiang Cheng, and it can’t be Wen Qing or Wen Ning since they’re currently seven thousand miles away. There’s Mianmian who helps sneak guys inside Residential Block F for parties but Huaisang’s never even spoken directly to her. It’s always Wei Ying who does the schmoozing. Then there’s Jin Guangyao who Huaisang borrows all his class notes from…hmm, maybe…he does have those cute dimples. Wei Ying will have to investigate further.

He tucks his laptop under one arm and heads to the stairwell. He’ll just have to return to his own Lan Zhan dominated dorm to finish his GOT episode. Maybe the silence won’t seem so loud if he opens the window or something.

On the journey down the stairs, he almost passes Jiang Cheng, but then Jiang Cheng makes eye contact and immediately turns back the way he came. He’s been doing that a lot lately, the asshole. Wei Ying rushes after him and at the base of the stairs, claps a hand on his brother’s back.

 “A-Cheng!” he says, only because he knows Jiang Cheng hates it when anyone but their sister calls him that. “Did you know Huaisang is seeing someone? Help me work out who it is!”

Sure enough, Jiang Cheng’s face reddens at the nickname. “Er, why?”

“Why not!? This is revolutionary. Who knew the first of us to find love would be Huaisang!” (His heart pangs a little as he thinks of Lan Zhan. Being in love with someone who likes someone else is even further away from finding love than not being in love at all.) “Our romantic lives are terribly tragic in comparison, aren’t they?”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Hahaha, don’t take it so personally. Some of us are just destined to be virgins forever.” (By us, he just means Jiang Cheng. He’s had plenty of sex.) “I heard that when virgins die, they’re reincarnated into a new life where all their repressed sexual desires are fulfilled.”

“What the fuck? Don’t involve me in your stupid destiny and reincarnation bullshit.”

“I’m not involving you, I am comforting you. Your virginity will be rewarded. Maybe. I mean probably not but it’s nice for you to still have hope. Anyway, you can’t see Huaisang now, he’s occupied. Come back to my room and watch Game of Thrones.”

Jiang Cheng steps from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable for some reason. Probably because the last time he came to Wei Ying’s room, he slipped on a pile of dirty laundry and bruised his coccyx. He shuffles for a while before providing his inevitable excuse. “I – er – need to go to the library. And you know I hate that fantasy crap.”

“It’s not just a fantasy. It’s more about politics and relationships and family–”

“There are dragons in it.”

“Yeah but–”

“Dragons, Wei Ying,” Jiang Cheng says flatly. “I’m not interested.”

“I know you only hate it because it makes you cry and you don’t like crying in front of people but fine, suit yourself. Go be boring.” Wei Ying mimes shooing him off and walks backwards out of the residential block. “If you need me, you know where I am.” He turns, right before walking into another student (“Sorry,” he apologies, “I gravitate towards beauty!”) and starts the trek back to his own block. He decides he’ll finish the disappointing wedding scene in Game of Thrones, then speculate more about Huaisang’s mystery partner. That should keep him occupied enough to shut up in Lan Zhan’s company. To make himself quiet and alluring.

The dorm door is already open when Wei Ying approaches. Keep your mouth shut , Wei Ying reminds himself. Lan Zhan likes quiet. Except when he enters the room and sees Lan Zhan holding his tub of emotional-support chilli flakes, Wei Ying’s brain short-circuits and he forgets everything. 

“Lan Zhan,” he shouts! Too loudly. 

Lan Zhan drops the open tub to the floor, sending chilli flakes everywhere. Luckily the tub itself is plastic and doesn’t smash. (Wei Ying upgraded after a previous glass shattering incident in his foster mother’s dining room.)

“I–” Lan Zhan starts, “I–”

“It’s okay,” Wei Ying takes over for him. “We can share.” But I didn’t think you liked spice, Wei Ying wants to add. You made a face when I poured sweet chilli sauce on your bland vegetables once. But part of being quiet for Lan Zhan is not rambling. Not saying weird obsessive things that make the man’s eyebrows twitch. 

“I will clean,” Lan Zhan announces. He fetches a dustpan and brush from under his bed. 

No, don’t waste it, Wei Ying wants to say. I’ll just pile it back into the tub. But instead, he watches silently as Lan Zhan sweeps the spilled chilli up like dust. 

Then, when the floor is spotless, Lan Zhan takes the tub to his side of the room. And Wei Ying can’t stay silent at that. 

“Are you confiscating my chilli flakes? No fair, Lan Zhan! I didn’t even spill them. You–”

Wei Ying pauses in his accusation. Lan Zhan’s is opening a fresh jumbo bag of chilli flakes. And Wei Ying suddenly realises it doesn’t make sense that his tub has lasted him this long, considering he adds the chilli to almost every meal. 

“You’ve been filling the tub all year,” Wei Ying realises. “Wait. Does this mean you were crossing your boundary tape this whole time?”

Lan Zhan nods mutely, continuing with the task. He even empties the old chilli flakes (at least what remains after the spill) into a spare interim tub so the fresh chilli flakes are always at the bottom. 

Hope crawls into Wei Ying’s heart. 

“Huaisang! Wen Ning! Open up now. This is an EMERGENCY.” 

A week later, Wei Ying pounds on Wen Ning and Huaisang’s door. He won’t stop until it opens. Or his hand falls off from the pounding. Whichever comes first. 

“I heard voices. I KNOW you’re in there.”

There’s still no answer. 

“I’m having a crisis about my roommate who laughs when he’s drunk. I’m probably in love. I am in love. You can’t just leave me alone out here.”

Wei Ying hears raised voices. Are Huaisang and Wen Ning fighting? It’s so unlike them. Is that why they won’t answer? Just as he is about to restart pounding, the door swings open inwards. Huaisang stands in the crack of the door, his shirt buttons done up entirely wrong, and his hair sticking to a sweaty forehead. Weird.  

Wei Ying forces his way inside. “Where’s Wen Ning?”

Huaisang sighs. “The library.”

“I heard voices.”

Huaisang points to his laptop, closed on the floor. It didn’t sound like voices from a laptop but Huaisang does have a better speaker set-up than most people on campus.

“Next time I watch Game of Thrones in here, could I use your speakers?”

“That’s the emergency?”

“No no no!” Wei Ying sits down on Huaisang’s unmade bed. “Okay, so. Lan Zhan slept in my bed when he was drunk.”

Huaisang starts to smile–

“Alone! And I slept in his! But he wanted to sleep in mine. That means something, right?”

Huaisang nods, so Wei Ying continues. “And last week, I found out he’s been refilling my emotional support chilli tub this whole year!”

“And yet the emergency is now,” Huaisang deadpans. 

“And today we were just in the dorm together and I had this feeling he was looking at me, but every time I looked, he wasn’t. I know it sounds stupid–”

“We need to go back a step. Did you think you had a magical self-filling tub of chilli flakes?”

“No! I don’t know! I didn’t notice.” Wei Ying falls back onto the bed. “That’s not the point!”

“What is the point?” Huaisang asks.

“I think if I keep doing this quiet thing, maybe maybe I might–”

“What quiet thing?” Huaisang asks immediately. 

“Oh.” Wei Ying starts to feel silly. He hasn’t told anyone about his talking less experiment. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What. Quiet. Thing?” 

Wei Ying sits up, deciding it might be safe to confide in his best friend. But he finds Huaisang already miming something to his feet. “Is there someone hiding under your bed?”

Huaisang’s head snaps up. “No.”

“You said Wen Ning was at the library…” Wei Ying suddenly puts it together. The voices, Huaisang’s sweaty forehead, the unmade bed… “Ew!” Wei Ying yells, jumping up. “You let me sit on that!”

“I tried to ignore you, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He raises his voice for the person under the bed: “Sorry!” Then he adds, “I will find out who you are when you’re in a less compromising position.” He crosses the room to sit on Wen Ning’s clean bed instead. “Huaisang, this is important! I need you – and whoever your boyfriend under the bed is – to find out who Lan Zhan likes.” There’s a groan from under the bed. It sounds suspiciously familiar. Wei Ying starts to duck his head–

“I know who he likes,” Huaisang interrupts. 

Wei Ying whips his head back up. “What? Did he say when he was drunk?”

“He didn’t have to. It’s just obvious.”

“Oh.” Wei Ying deflates. If it’s obvious, it must be more than just a crush. “So I don’t have a chance?”

Huaisang smirks. “I didn’t say that.”

“But if he really does like someone, there’s no chance they don’t like him back. It’s inevitable really. If someone that hot said they liked me, I’d–”

“Oh my god!” yells a muffled voice under the bed. Huaisang throws a pillow in their direction. 

There’s something incredibly familiar about the voice too, but the muffled quality makes it difficult to place. “Who–”

Huaisang grabs Wei Ying by the shoulders. “You have nothing to worry about. The person Lan Zhan likes is too stupid to work it out.”

Wei Ying’s heart thumps. “So I have an opening?”

“If I say yes, will you finally leave?”

“Oh. Right.” Wei Ying lets himself be steered towards the door. “Sorry. Nice to meet you, Huaisang’s boyfriend.”

Under the bed, the boyfriend sighs, and there’s something familiar about that too.

The last few weeks of uni progress with agonising slowness. Wei Ying spends most nights procrastinating by drinking with his friends (Lan Zhan refuses all invitations to join) and then cramming in assignments in the early hours of the morning. Actual sleep is few and far between and Wei Ying finds himself zoning out into half-naps in class and at lunch.

“You should stay home tonight,” Wen Qing tells him firmly one Friday, after prodding him awake for the third time.

He’s lying on the uni’s too-green astro turf, a half-eaten burrito resting in the crook of his neck. He picks it up and continues eating. Across the circle, Lan Zhan watches him, probably judging his sleeping habits. 

“Not gonna happen,” he tells Wen Qing through mouthfuls. 

“When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep?” she asks. 

Wei Ying pretends to be heavily invested in his burrito. It’s actually rather bland, no wonder he fell asleep eating it. It could benefit from a dusting of chilli flakes from his stash.

“That’s what I thought.” Wen Qing turns to Huaisang, who lies beside Wei Ying. “Tell Wei Ying he should stay home tonight.”

Huaisang rolls over to face Wei Ying. “You should stay home tonight,” he repeats in a monotone. Then he rolls back, burying his head in his psychology textbook.

“Lan Zhan,” Wen Qing continues. God, she’s scary, especially when she has good intentions. “Tell Wei Ying he should stay home tonight.” 

“Don’t get my roommate involved. That’s unfair.”

“I don’t mind,” says Lan Zhan, but he obviously does. He looks super uncomfortable. Wei Ying has to drag him to lunch most days. 

“Just let me go out tonight and I will stay in for the rest of the school year,” he pleads. There’s only a week left, but it sounds impressive. “My only condition is I get to choose the place and everyone has to come.” He sneaks a glance at Lan Zhan. “Lan Zhan too.”

Wen Qing narrows her eyes intimidatingly. “I”m going to hold you to this deal, Wei Ying. Don’t make a fool of me.” Then to the others she says, “I don’t care if you’re free or not. Make it work.”

“Urgh,” Jiang Cheng says, as soon as they enter the karaoke bar. “I thought we were finally free of this awful place.”

Wei Ying hasn’t been able to return since the night he fell in love with Lan Zhan. Partly because he vowed never to sing again after hearing Lan Zhan’s voice and partly because he could no longer imagine being here without Lan Zhan. But through the power of Wen Qing’s intimidation, Lan Zhan is finally out with them again, and Wei Ying is determined not to waste the opportunity. He’s dressed in his hottest outfit: an almost see-through tank top, his tightest jeans and his leather jacket. He’s going to keep his rambles to a minimum, and he’s going to grind up against strangers on the edge of the dancefloor so Lan Zhan can see. 

And he might sing one song if he gets drunk enough. If only to have Lan Zhan’s eyes on him for a full three minutes. 

Lan Zhan grabs Wei Ying’s wrist, holding him back, as the others head off to find a table. Is the outfit working already? 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says seriously. He’s leaning in close and it’s very intimate. Wei Ying licks his lips and–  “I do not want to drink tonight.”

Oh. Of course it would be something like that. Wei Ying breathes again. “Cool. I’ll get you a sparkling water again–”

“I would like to buy the drinks tonight.”

“But–” 

Lan Zhan releases Wei Ying’s wrist and pushes him away gently. “Go join your friends.”

I want to stay with you, Wei Ying thinks. You’re my friend. You’re my–

Lan Zhan’s already gone, disappeared into the crowd. Wei Ying pouts to himself, and pops the collar of his jacket. He knows he looks good. Lan Zhan must be immune to sex appeal. Or straight (please god no). 

Or just really into someone else. 

“Please stop with the collar,” Jiang Cheng says as soon as Wei Ying finds the group. They’re half seated at a table with only two chairs left. The only two seated are Jiang Cheng (of course) and Wen Ning. Wen Qing hovers by her brother and Huaisang leans on the table by Jiang Cheng. 

Wei Ying jumps up to sit on the table by Huisang. “This table sucks.”

“He’s right about the collar, you know,” Wen Qing says unnecessarily. She never agrees with Jiang Cheng so it’s an especially low blow. 

Wei Ying begrudgingly flattens it and looks around. Though it’s early in the night, there’s already someone slurring into the karaoke microphone, trying (and failing) to sing I Hate Myself for Loving You. 

Lan Zhan returns with five vodka lemonades. He even got the pink kind that Wei Ying prefers even though it tastes exactly the same. Wei Ying shifts closer to Huaisang so there’s room to place the drinks on the table. 

“You want to get me drunk, huh, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t answer. He just starts handing out the drinks to everyone else. Oh right. Wei Ying had assumed since Lan Zhan had bought Wei Ying’s go-to drink, that they were all for him. But that’s because he’s selfish and silly while Lan Zhan is thoughtful and respectable. 

Huaisang’s nose wrinkles as he accepts his – he’s more of a whisky sour kinda guy – but he doesn’t say anything. 

Lan Zhan places the last drink in Wei Ying’s hand, fingertips brushing so briefly it would be unnoticeable to anyone not currently cursed with this dreaded lovesickness. Overwhelmed, Wei Ying jumps to his feet…which only makes it worse since he pushes accidentally into Lan Zhan’s space. Lan Zhan, of course, immediately steps back. 

“Ahaha. I guess that means you don’t want to dance with me.” Wei Ying all but runs to the dancefloor to escape the weird atmosphere and to avoid seeing anything too knowing in Lan Zhan’s face. Bleurgh. Love fucking sucks. That’s why Wei Ying, drink still in hand, positions himself to shake his ass in front of a hot stranger instead. Simple. Primal. Fun. 

Wei Ying remains on the dancefloor for most of the night, only returning to the group to get the next drink which Lan Zhan keeps supplying. It’s probably kind of rude to keep disappearing but he’s technically not… He positions himself as far away as possible but still within Lan Zhan’s sightline and then tries not to look back. But of course he always looks back and of course Lan Zhan is never watching. There’s one time he catches the turn of Lan Zhan’s head and thinks maybe… maybe . But it’s not real proof and it never happens again.  

After a particularly dirty grind (at least for the public atmosphere) with a gorgeous golden-eyed woman, Wei Ying returns to the table breathless and a little horny. Over the night Wen Qing has collected (i.e. stolen) enough chairs for all of them. He throws his leather jacket over the back of an empty chair between Lan Zhan and Wen Ning, then collapses into it.

He fans himself with one hand. “It’s hot in here, hey?”

“Oh so you’ve decided to join us now?” Jiang Cheng snaps. Huaisang sits awkwardly in his lap even though Wen Qing secured him his own chair three rounds ago. He must be drunk. Jiang Cheng too. 

Wei Ying ignores his brother and turns to Lan Zhan. Unlike all the other times, Lan Zhan doesn’t have a drink waiting for him. Well, Wei Ying’s luck was bound to run out eventually. He starts to rise– only for Lan Zhan to push him back down. It’s only a brief touch to his shoulder but it’s tragically hot.  

“You’ve been drinking quite fast,” Lan Zhan says. There’s a subtle crease to his eyebrows that Wei Ying wouldn’t have noticed at the start of the year. 

“Lan Zhan. Lan Zhaaaaaan. Are you cutting me off? Is this because I let that woman touch my ass?” Stop talking, Wei Ying tells himself, but he can’t stop. He’s way too drunk for that kind of restraint. “I wanted her to touch my ass, Lan Zhan. I loved it when she touched my ass, Lan Zhan. I’m perfectly capable–”

Lan Zhan abruptly stands up and walks away. Wei Ying frowns at his back. “Am I really that annoying?” he says to no-one. 

“Nobody wants to hear about your ass,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Give the guy a fucking break.”

Wei Ying whips back around to the group. “Hey, you’re my brother. You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Not when you’re being a fucking idiot.” Jiang Cheng gently pushes Huaisang off his lap and thrusts a finger rudely at Wei Ying. His face is red. “You forced us all to come here and you even made your poor sad roommate come, only to go off on your own all night and probably get STIs on the dancefloor!”

“Lan Zhan’s not sad. His face is just like that.” 

“He’s fucking miserable and you would see that if you weren’t a selfish little brat. Now fuck off. It’s my turn to sing.” Jiang Cheng storms off to the stage and then, with his face still violently red, starts an off-key but surprisingly sweet rendition of Somethin’ Stupid. 

“What the fuck? He hates old music.” Wei Ying turns to Huaisang, the only person in the group he knows would willingly sing Sinatra. “Did you get your turns mixed up?”

Huaisang shakes his head briefly but doesn’t turn. His eyes stay watching the karaoke stage. There’s something weird in his expression–

A pink vodka lemonade and a glass of water are placed in front of Wei Ying. He stares at the drinks confused until Lan Zhan sits down. 

“Hydration is important.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur. At one point Wei Ying sings karaoke but immediately after finishing he can’t remember what song he performed. Not long after, Lan Zhan stops supplying alcohol and starts returning with hot chips instead (and Wei Ying is not mad about it). By the time the bar closes at three am, he’s already starting to sober up. The group shuffle to the park across the street and Wei Ying is brilliant enough to feign such an extreme level of drunkenness that he gets to spend the next two hours lying with his head in Lan Zhan’s lap. And nobody even questions it! He occasionally lifts his head to dispute Jiang Cheng’s nonsense but for the most part it – his head – is cradled between Lan Zhan’s strong legs. He participates in the conversation less and less as he continues to sober up. He’d be happy to stay here forever but of course eventually someone more responsible than him – it’s Lan Zhan obviously –  points out that it’s five am. 

The group disperses but Wei Ying lingers on Lan Zhan’s lap taking in every detail because he might never get this close again: the woody musk scent, the firmness of Lan Zhan’s legs and maybe maybe the impressively girthy outline of–  

Lan Zhan gently pushes Wei Ying up by the shoulders and (sadly) extracts his firm legs. He grabs Wei Ying’s hands and firmly places them around his own neck. Then he leans down, scoops Wei Ying up and starts walking. 

“Ahaha.” Wei Ying feels his face flushing and there’s nowhere to hide it except half in Lan Zhan’s chest. “You don’t need to carry me. I hardly even drank that much tonight.”

Lan Zhan pauses, his eyes dipping briefly to Wei Ying’s, then he keeps on walking. Wow. Wei Ying’s never received the side-eye from Lan Zhan before. It’s intimidating and hot. 

“Okay, yeah, sure, it probably looked like a lot to a lightweight like you, but I’m completely fine and I haven’t drunk anything in like four hours. Make me walk in a straight line or say the alphabet backwards or answer a maths problem or something. Actually, not the math, I can’t do that sober either.”

Lan Zhan, clearly sick of Wei Ying’s bullshit, places him slowly onto his feet. They haven’t gotten far, just a street past the bar. 

“Maybe if it’s something easy like seven times eight.” Wei Ying thinks for a second, realises he doesn’t know the answer and backtracks to what he does know. Four sevens are twenty eight, five sevens are…? “Nope, nevermind.” Fuck, he’s so bad at math. Hey, maybe he needs a tutor. A sexy–

“Walk straight,” Lan Zhan orders. And it’s actually kinda really hot. But Wei Ying’s a brat at heart so–

“Can’t, baby. I’m as queer as they come.”

Lan Zhan’s side eye is somehow more aggressive than the last one. 

“Alright, alright,” Wei Ying relents. “Watch me.” He walks ten or so quick paces in a perfect straight line, probably straighter than his usual strut. He pivots on the spot and bows dramatically at Lan Zhan. “Was that straight enough for you?”

“Mn.”

“Aha!” Wei Ying runs back to Lan Zhan’s side. “So you admit I’m sober.”

“Sober is not the word I would use.”

Wei Ying laughs. Does Lan Zhan know how funny he is? “Okay, so you admit I am fully functioning and capable of taking myself to bed then.”

“I will take you.”

“To bed?” Wei Ying teases. He should really stop flirting. It’s only going to make it hurt more. But Lan Zhan’s ears are reddening and that makes the pain worth it. “If you don’t, you know I”m just gonna have to hook-up with some stranger from our residential block instead.”

“I will escort you to our room,” Lan Zhan unfortunately corrects.

They continue walking, Wei Ying making an effort to keep exceptionally straight. They reach the university fairly quickly but most of the journey is skirting the outside wall until they get to a pedestrian entry. After a few minutes of silence, Lan Zhan says:

“Hook-up?”

Oh sweet summer Lan Zhan. Wei Ying gladly translates. “It is essential that I get laid tonight.” Even if it’s just by The Witcher ™.

“You are sober enough to have sex?”

“Oh my god, Lan Zhan, you’re such a goody two shoes. All my cognitive functions are working. I am not even slurring. Do you hear me slurring?” He’s talking too much and he knows Lan Zhan must hate it but he can’t help it. There are so many words he’s holding back, they all want to explode out of him in one go. “I have circled back to the perfect level of tipsy, which is also the best time to get laid. Listen, let me explain, alcohol makes me horn–”

Lan Zhan pushes Wei Ying up against the wall. It knocks all the breath from him. 

“What–” Wei Ying gasps in more air. “What are you doing?”

“You want to “get laid” tonight?” The phrase sounds so crude in Lan Zhan’s mouth. 

“Yeah, but–”

Lan Zhan leans in closer, one hand still pinning Wei Ying against the wall. “So do I.”

Wei Ying’s entire body freezes. Shuts down. Restarts. Lan Zhan’s breath is close enough to feel its warmth. Wei Ying’s eyes flicker down to soft pink lips. Is this really happening? He looks back up to Lan Zhan’s eyes. “Don’t tease me.”

“I do not tease,” Lan Zhan says. “Unlike others.” And then he kisses Wei Ying. 

Wei Ying is so shocked he misses the first five seconds of it. Which is probably the biggest tragedy since Hamlet and he will forever mourn the loss. But but but the subsequent seconds are glorious. Lan Zhan’s lips aren’t as soft as Wei Ying imagined. They’re firm and textured and real. And Lan Zhan isn’t gentle and chaste either, but hungry. He keeps Wei Ying pinned to the wall, one hand firmly against Wei Ying’s waist and the other grasping a shoulder, then a whole heap of neck, then fisting Wei Ying’s hair. And his mouth tastes like…well, mouth. But there’s something about it that makes Wei Ying want more and more and more. 

Too soon, Lan Zhan breaks their lips apart and breathes into Wei Ying’s neck, his face hidden. “We…should…” he says between breaths. 

“Keep doing the mouth on mouth thing?”

Lan Zhan lifts his head. His eyes are terrifyingly dark. It’s so so hot. “Keep walking.”

Oh. No fun. Lan Zhan pulls back and gives Wei Ying space even though Wei Ying is definitely exuding an 'I don’t want personal space’ attitude that would be obvious to literally any other person on the planet. He reluctantly follows Lan Zhan’s lead, noticing Lan Zhan’s pace is a little faster. 

“You said you didn’t tease,” Wei Ying accuses. 

Lan Zhan doesn’t respond. He just keeps walking. 

“Well, consider me fucking teased. I thought I was horny before but like now in hindsight, I was totally frigid, because now I am primed like a prime rib steak…Oh my god, what am I saying? I don’t even know what that means. Lan Zhan, I’m talking nonsense now! And I never talk nonsense. Everything I say is usually tip-top logic. Tip-top? I’ve never said that in my life, Lan Zhan, I swear. I’m just a man, Lan Zhan. I’m a very horny, fragile man and you have no idea what you’re–”

Lan Zhan fists Wei Ying’s leather jacket and throws him even harder against the wall this time. “Wei Ying. Be patient.”

“Does that mean–”

This time, Wei Ying is fully present for all seconds – minutes! – of the kiss. It’s not as long as the first, but Lan Zhan skips to the best parts immediately: tongue, hair pulling and shoving their hips together so Wei Ying can feel–

And then it’s over and Lan Zhan’s pulling back and walking on again. Wei Ying sags against the wall for a second, catching his breath, before following. He works out if he rambles about nonsense, he can goad Lan Zhan into shutting him up and he strategically enjoys another three kisses before they reach their residential block. 

“Oh the stairs,” Wei Ying tries again as they enter the building. “Remember how you stole my suitcase at the start of the year. I was convinced you were using your good looks to disarm me so you could take all my possessions. What was your first impression of me? Did you think I was totally annoying? I think I called you a criminal! What did–”

Lan Zhan grabs Wei Ying’s arms. (Yes! It’s working again! ) “Wei Ying,” he says, “I already knew who you were.” And before Wei Ying can even process that, he throws Wei Ying’s arms around his own neck, scoops Wei Ying up into his arms once more and starts ascending the stairs. 

Comfortably secured in Lan Zhan’s arms, Wei Ying finds himself quiet, not by choice, but by surprise. He’d always thought meeting Lan Zhan was a special moment, even before he’d admitted any feelings to himself. It’d felt like two opposites drawn together by the fate of a random roommate-draw. But if Lan Zhan already knew Wei Ying…it throws the whole destined meeting out of balance. As his mind fixates on the new information, he barely appreciates the enviable position he’s in. It’s not until he’s dropped onto a bed, that his mind bounces back to the present with his body. 

The thing is, it’s not his bed. It’s Lan Zhan’s bed. It’s Lan Zhan’s bed!!!

“Oh my god, you’re serious. Holy shit. Lan Zhan. We shouldn’t be doing this.” Wei Ying looks up through his lashes at Lan Zhan. His eyes are dark again. Wei Ying swallows. “I’m a hopeless flirt and you, you like someone. What would they think if…if…if…” He falters as Lan Zhan places one knee on the bed, then another. “If they knew you had me...you had me...completely at your disposal.” Lan Zhan hovers over Wei Ying now, his arms braced either side of Wei Ying’s head. They’re not touching each other at all but Lan Zhan’s breath and body heat are delightfully suffocating. “Oh Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying continues a little breathlessly, “I’ll do anything you want if you just touch me. But, but, but you have to tell me: who is this person that you like?”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan lowers his head and brings his lips just shy of Wei Ying’s. “Stop talking.”

Oh right. Wei Ying obeys and not just because Lan Zhan also physically silences him by pressing their lips together. He knew this was the deal. Lan Zhan likes quiet. Maybe when Wei Ying isn’t talking, it’s easier for Lan Zhan to imagine him as someone he really likes. Wei Ying’s heart sinks even as his body jumps to attention at Lan Zhan’s touch. Surely, he decides, his heart can take a backseat for now so his body can appreciate the moment. He should at least be allowed that much.

“Turn around,” Lan Zhan orders. 

Yes, Wei Ying thinks as goosebumps travel his body, I can forget my pathetic heart for one night. He wouldn’t dare miss out on this. He awkwardly scrambles to turn over within the small space between Lan Zhan and the bed. 

“Oh Lan Zhan,” he mumbles into Lan Zhan’s pillow, unable to stop himself, “Please. please.”

“Be quiet.”

Wei Ying wakes up and immediately groans. It’s not his worst hangover by a long shot but his whole body aches. Especially his legs which doesn’t even make sense because Lan Zhan carried him up the stairs– Oh right. Being a power bottom is such a work-out. They should make a gym routine based around it. 

Wei Ying groans again, thinking less about the physical pain and now the new sinking agony of knowing what it’s like to fuck Lan Zhan and never being able to have it again. Because even though last night was everything , it was also a mistake. Wei Ying’s fine with casual hook-ups, but there’s nothing casual about fucking the roomate you’re in love with who, by the way, likes somebody else. Wei Ying’s always been messy but this is a colossal fuck-up.

His phone buzzes briefly. He ignores it because he has no idea where his phone is but then it starts buzzing again and this time it doesn’t stop. He throws back the sheets – Lan Zhan’s sheets, my god – and drowsily looks around. His jeans are on the floor, underwear lined up perfectly over the bunched up leg holes. He flushes as he remembers Lan Zhan yanking them off together. The buzzing stops then immediately starts again. Wei Ying fishes his phone from a jean pocket – the fourth one he checks of course – and answers Huaisang’s call. 

A hour or so later, the filth of the night showered away, Wei Ying knocks on Huaisang’s door. There’d been no sign of Lan Zhan in their room but it is already four in the afternoon so he’s probably at the library. 

“Enter,” Huaisang calls.

Wei Ying opens the door but Huaisang’s not there. Between his and Wen Ning’s bed is a single empty chair, clearly nicked from the dining hall. “What–”

Someone jumps Wei Ying from behind, grabbing his arms and pulling them behind his back. “What the fuck? Huaisang, what–” He breaks off as he notices Jiang Cheng over his right shoulder. “Et tu, brother!?”

They push him to the chair and both hold him down as Jiang Cheng ties him up with a thick purple rope. 

“You’re going to sit still–” Jiang Cheng says.

“Like I have a choice!”

“–and listen! He tightens the rope, adds a final knot at Wei Ying’s legs, then stands back with Huaisang. They cross their arms in sync, looking down at Wei Ying like he’s the problem even though they just guerilla attacked him and tied him up???

Wei Ying squirms but the rope won’t budge. It’s tight but not uncomfortable, thick enough not to dig into his skin and surprisingly soft in texture. “Why do you even have this rope?”

“We use it for–”

“Huaisang, babe! Not in front of my brother.”

We? Babe? Wei Ying looks between his two attackers. “Are you two....”

“Never mind about that,” Jiang Cheng snaps while Huaisang just says simply, “Yes.”

“Since when?”

Jiang Cheng groans. “You are stupid.”

“Um okay, why?”

“You are so so stupid.”

“Is this why you tied me up? To be a dick?”

Huaisang places a hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and smiles patronisingly at Wei Ying. “We are trying to help you...not be so stupid.”

“Yeah, okay, great I don’t know whatever weird kinky shit you guys are into but if you could just untie–”

Huaisang unrolls a projector screen out of nowhere and Jiang Cheng turns off the lights. The screen takes up more than half the length of the tiny room. 

“Have you had this the whole time? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve watched Game of–”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jiang Cheng says, walking behind Wei Ying.

A blue projector light shines onto Huaisang and the surrounding screen. “This,” he says “is about Lan Zhan.”

Wei Ying pushes against the ropes. They won’t budge. He tries to rock the chair but Jiang Cheng places a firm hand on the seatback. 

“You already know what we’re going to say.” Huaisang’s face is a little too smug. “You like him.”

Wei Ying desperately fights against the heat flooding into his face. “Who?” 

Stupid,” Jiang Cheng repeats. “You have the hots for Lan Zhan. Don’t bother denying it. And–”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“–he is in love with you too.”

That shuts Wei Ying up. It’s everything he’s wanted to hear but– He shakes his head. “Lan Zhan is not in love with me. He likes someone else, remember?”

“He likes you,” Huaisang says. 

“You can’t know that.”

Huaisang nods over Wei Ying’s head and the blue light is replaced by a white screen with words obscured by Huisang’s body. “We’ve prepared a powerpoint,” he says and steps aside. 

Pictures of Lan Zhan Looking at Wei Ying
A non-exhaustive collection of 52 images

“How?” Wei Ying chokes out. “When?”

“Ever since you first brought him to the karaoke bar,” Jiang Cheng answers as the powerpoint transitions to the first image. It’s from that first night out. It must’ve been when Wei Ying told the group he was taking a drunk Lan Zhan home. Wei Ying’s mouth is open unattractively between words and Lan Zhan is hanging onto his arm, his face turned to Wei Ying with a dreamy kind of smile. 

Wei Ying’s heart clenches. “He was drunk. You’re reading into it.”

The powerpoint moves on. Lan Zhan watching him in class. Lan Zhan watching him in the library. Lan Zhan watching him at lunch. Wei Ying didn’t even think Lan Zhan looked at him that much but the photos keep coming. The last photo is from the park last night. Wei Ying’s eyes are closed in Lan Zhan’s lap and Lan Zhan is staring down at him with the dreamy smile again. Except Lan Zhan wasn’t drunk last night, or in 51 of the 52 photos. 

Wei Ying is speechless. 

Huaisang squats in front of him. “You already know how he feels. Why are you pretending you don’t?”

Wei Ying searches for words. “But he’s so…and I’m so...why would he want…”

“Oh my god!” Jiang Cheng groans and comes around to squat by Huaisang. “Wei Wuxian,” he says harshly, “I hate you but you are kind and funny and...charismatic apparently.” His face reddens and he grits his teeth as he continues. “You are loved. You are loveable. You are deserving of love.”

“A-Cheng!” Wei Ying exclaims in a whisper. This is the closest his brother has ever come to saying ‘I love you’. 

Jiang Cheng stands up, looking away. “Don’t make me say it again!”

The door opens and Wen Ning takes one step inside before freezing. “This again? I’ll come back another–” his eyes lock onto Wei Ying and widen. “Wei Ying? Er...I didn’t know you and...uhhh…” He starts to close the door. “Okay bye!”

“Help me, Wen Ning, I’ve been kidnapped!!!”

Wen Ning pauses, his body half behind the door, the projected image of Lan Zhan warped on his face. “This isn’t another roleplay?”

“No!” Jiang Cheng shouts, then turns to Huaisang and whispers in a voice everyone can hear. “I told you we shouldn’t have used the rope!”

Huaisang shrugs and sits on his bed. “We were just trying to convince Wei Ying that Lan Zhan is in love with him.”

Wen Ning relaxes and lets the door reopen fully. “You didn’t know?” he says to Wei Ying.

“What?”

Wen Ning steps into the room, fishing out a phone from his back pocket. He fiddles with it for a moment, then turns the screen around to face Wei Ying.

It’s a video of Lan Zhan from last night. He’s sitting in the karaoke bar, posture perfect, and his eyes are soft. A tear slowly falls down one side of his face. All the while Wei Ying’s voice is screaming the words to Born This Way in the background. 

Wei Ying watches the video intensely, cringing at the sound of his voice but softening at Lan Zhan’s strange reaction. “But I’m not even any good,” he whispers.

“Yeah, you were so off key,” Wen Ning says happily.

“Alcohol makes my throat dry.” Wei Ying swallows, considers the information presented to him. It’s convincing but he’s still having trouble believing it. “Can you send that video to me? And the powerpoint?”

Huaisang jumps up. “Does this mean–”

“I’ll think about it,” Wei Ying says and he will. He will probably do nothing but think about it for the rest of his life. 

Huaisang turns off the projector, and folds up the screen while Jiang Cheng unties Wei Ying. When all the purple rope falls to Wei Ying’s ankles, he stands, stretches and heads for the door. He stops at the entrance, feeling a delayed wave of love. He turns. 

“Thank you, everyone. I love you guys too.” He zeroes in on his brother. “But don’t ever use your roleplay rope on me again.”

Wei Ying isn’t certain he’s going to follow through on his brother’s advice until he returns to his own room and Lan Zhan’s eyes immediately land on him. Maybe he’s been oblivious this entire time, but there’s no denying the intensity of that gaze now, not when he’s seen it reflected in a fifty-two-page PowerPoint presentation. Lan Zhan likes him, is possibly even in love with him, and has been for some time. The intense realisation washes over Wei Ying and maybe maybe gives him the strength to confess his own feelings.

Wei Ying stops in the doorway and searches for the words. “You’re back,” is all he manages. 

“I assumed you would want space,” Lan Zhan says in his usual neutral voice except it’s not neutral at all now that Wei Ying notices. It’s carefully reserved, defensive. “If you would like to reinstate the boundary, I understand.”

Wei Ying laughs. He’s been such an idiot. He approaches Lan Zhan’s bed, past the long-expired boundary and takes a deep breath, considering his words. Madam Yu always scolded him for using twenty words for what could be said in five. 

“I love you.”

Huh, turns out he only needs three.

Except Lan Zhan just sits there on the bed, hands frozen over his laptop keyboard, staring up at Wei Ying quiet and panicked. Wei Ying’s throat itches. Three words isn’t enough at all. He has to explain.

“I love you, Lan Zhan,” he repeats. “And not like a friend or a roommate – not that normal people love their roommates – but as in like I want to date you. I’ve wanted to for months now. I want to take hot couple selfies and brag about you on my Tiktok.”

The words fall out all in one breath so Wei Ying is wheezing by the last words. He’s expecting Lan Zhan to interrupt him at one point but Lan Zhan is still quiet. His mouth has fallen open in an uncouth gape that doesn’t suit him at all but is oddly charming.

Wei Ying’s throat is still itching. He restrains himself as best he can. “Is any of this…um…amenable to you?”

Lan Zhan drops his gaze. He carefully closes his laptop, places it atop his notebook and relocates them to the bedside table. Only then, does he stand up and look back into Wei Ying’s eyes.

“Yes,” he says and kisses him.

The kiss is different to last night, all sweet gentle touches, none of the rough desperation. Wei Ying melts into it, winding his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. “I love you,” he whispers repeatedly into the gaps between kisses. The rush every time he says it is so heady and potent and it sends a pleasant chill up his spine. There’s something so delicious about knowing the risk, yet saying it anyway.

Lan Zhan’s hands grasp Wei Ying’s waist and yank him closer until their chests are flushed. Then, without warning, he wrenches his lips away and relocates them to Wei Ying’s neck. Ah. Wei Ying’s whispers of love are replaced with incoherent moans and hitched gasps he has no business sharing for public consumption. But Lan Zhan is thorough and responsive, and it’s only polite for Wei Ying to indicate via varied pitches of moan when he applies just the right amount of pressure in just the right place.  

Then, because Wei Ying is having the luckiest day ever, Lan Zhan picks him up with absolutely no hesitation and flings him onto the bed. Yes, flings – Wei Ying’s body even half bounces back up. Delightful! Sandalwood consumes Wei Ying from all sides as Lan Zhan kneels over him, one leg between Wei Ying’s legs, pushing higher until–

“Yes, Lan Zhan. I’m yours. Take me however you want. I’ll do anything for you.” (He briefly wonders how Madam Yu would have suggested he put that in five words and quickly discards the thought – now is so not the time.)

Lan Zhan’s leg relaxes, the delicious pressure falling away from Wei Ying’s groin. He looks down at Wei Ying with an intimidating glint in his eyes that will now be the fuel of all Wei Ying’s fantasies to come.

“Right, sorry,” Wei Ying says. “I’ll be quiet.”

The glint softens. Lan Zhan traces his fingers over Wei Ying’s hairline, sweet and delicate. “Wei Ying, why should you be quiet?” he asks.

“Last night you didn’t like it when I talked. I want to be quiet and please you.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widen, and he peppers Wei Ying’s face with quick kisses before replying. “I love it when you talk. Do not ever hold back with me.”

Wei Ying sits up on his elbows to better see Lan Zhan. “You do?”

Lan Zhan nods. “No one has ever affected me this way.”

“But last night–”

“Last night I couldn’t bear to let you see how I really felt.” Lan Zhan pushes Wei Ying back down into the pillow and whispers in his ear. “Your words, Wei Ying, make me want to spill all my secrets.”

“And your secrets...”

Lan Zhan pulls back to gaze into Wei Ying’s eyes. “I love you. I’ve loved you since I first saw you in that fucking leather jacket.”

“Wow.” Wei Ying blinks back at him, trying to remember. He’d bought the jacket from an op shop the day before moving on-campus and he’d been so keen to wear it despite the awful heat. “The first day we met?” No, that was just when I met Lan Zhan, Wei Ying revises internally. He still hasn’t come to terms with their meetcute not really being a meetcute. 

“I knew you for much longer than that. I–” Lan Zhan swallows, then continues. “I liked listening to you in classes.”

And all this time Wei Ying thought Lan Zhan hated him at the start of the year. The new information clicks into place. “You came down to help me,” Wei Ying says, only now realising the significance of it. 

“Mn. I was watching you through the window.”

Wow. Lan Zhan has been hiding so much for so long. If Wei Ying had known… “You really should talk more.”

"You should talk more,” Lan Zhan replies without hesitation.

For a second, Wei Ying thinks he’s joking, but Lan Zhan stares at him as intensely as the fifty-two photos in Huaisang’s collection. He really means it. Lan Zhan doesn’t want someone quiet. He doesn’t want a quiet Wei Ying. He really wants Wei Ying as he is. Wei Ying drops his eyes, suddenly embarrassed. “You’re literally the only person ever to say that to me.”

Lan Zhan returns to Wei Ying’s neck, peppering it with light kisses. “Keep talking.”

“You really mean it? I’m not too much?”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan makes a sort of growling noise that Wei Ying feels directly in his groin. “If you could speak infinitely, I would be content every second of every day. You could never be too much.”

“Wow, you’re so romantic.”

Lan Zhan shrugs in a very un-Lan Zhan manner. “I am in love.”

Wei Ying grins. “And mushy. You’re very mushy.”

Lan Zhan pulls back to fix Wei Ying with a stern glare. “I am not mushy,” he says. Then he goes back to kissing Wei Ying’s neck. 

“Am I – oh – supposed to – oh ohhh – talk during this?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says into his neck, “Wei Ying should talk all the time.”

“Okay but you know – oh yes there! – that I’m going to end up saying dirty things if you keep – ohhhh – doing that.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything but his ears go red and he bites Wei Ying’s ear. 

“Oh oh my god - You want me to say dirty things, don’t you? Lan Zhan – oh ahh ohh – you have to tell it to me straight.”

Lan Zhan pulls back and says deadpan: “Can’t, baby. I’m as queer as they come.”

Wei Ying bursts out laughing. Hearing his own bad joke repeated through Lan Zhan’s lips is so absurd, it is somehow funnier than the first time. He wraps his legs around Lan Zhan and pulls their bodies closer. 

“I want to know something,” he whispers into Lan Zhan’s ear. “When I caught you touching yourself, did that turn you on? Were you thinking about me all night?”

“I could not sleep.”

“And then you listened to me and The Witcher ™ dildo.”

“Mn. I tried not to listen.”

“But you did.”

“You are very loud.”

Wei Ying laughs. It’s so delicious to finally get so much information out of Lan Zhan. “And you’re not as much of a gentleman as I thought you were. Lan Zhan, do you watch porn?”

“No.”

Wei Ying pulls back from Lan Zhan’s ear to see his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying but then again he’s always been so good at hiding things. “Then what were those noises from your phone when I caught you.”

Lan Zhan lowers his face and hides it in the bed above Wei Ying’s shoulder. Ooh boy, Wei Ying thinks, this is going to be good. 

“Lan Zhan, I’m waiting for an answer. What were you looking at?”

Lan Zhan’s voice is muffled as he replies: “You.”

“Me how?”

Lan Zhan makes a delightful huffing noise right at Wei Ying’s ear. “It is shameful.”

Wei Ying grinds himself against Lan Zhan briefly, enjoying the light brush of hard against hard. “Surely we’re past that.”

“This is different. This is my shame, not yours.”

“What were you looking at, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying gently pulls Lan Zhan’s head from the bed. 

Lan Zhan’s expression is pained. “There is…on your Tiktok…you were dehydrated…”

Lan Zhan doesn’t have to finish for Wei Ying to know exactly which video he’s referring to. Wei Ying knew it was a good idea to post it! “Oh my god Lan Zhan, you’re so naughty. Were you imagining it was you I was grinding against?”

“Mn.” 

Lan Zhan starts to drop his head again but Wei Ying stops him, grabbing him gently behind each ear. 

“Hey, it’s not shameful.” Wei Ying’s fingers caress Lan Zhan’s hair. “I thought it was you following me on Tiktok. I posted it hoping you would see.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widen. “But you didn’t even know my name.”

Wei Ying cringes at that, now knowing Lan Zhan was already in love with him. He grabs the hem of Lan Zhan’s shirt and eagerly drags it off. “I didn’t need to know your name to know you’re hot AF.” He flicks the shirt across the room. “Hey, if you like it so much, I can film myself grinding on you right now. I can do it live on Tiktok so everyone knows I’m yours now and you’re mine.”

“Wei Ying .”

“Too much?”

“Never too much Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan places a brief kiss on Wei Ying’s forehead. “But I would rather have you privately.”

Wei Ying throws his arms back and arches his back “You have me baby so hurry up and fuck me.”

Lan Zhan pulls Wei Ying’s shirt off. Yes, finally. “You have a very dirty mouth,” he comments, but there’s no admonishment in it.

“Maybe you just have very dirty ears.”

“I do not.”

“But you love my dirty mouth. You said it. You love all my words always.”

Lan Zhan grabs Wei Ying by the hips. “Mn.”

“I was joking about the live video thing, but we could achieve similar results by posting a bed selfie.”

“Wei Ying. I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“Oh yes I very much want that please. I'm just saying It will make it very hard for me to flirt with other people if they know I’m your–”

Lan Zhan launches his hand down Wei Ying’s pants but unfortunately only into the pocket of his jeans. He retrieves Wei Ying’s phone, shuffles up the bed so they’re side by side and quickly snaps a photo before Wei Ying can even wipe the horny look from his face.             

Lan Zhan passes the phone back. “Post it," he orders, already taking off Wei Ying's pants. 

"Oh fuck me," Wei Ying says and he happily means it both figurately and literally.

“It’s done,” Huaisang announces as he pulls up Wei Ying’s latest post on Instagram. And thank fuck for that because it was getting really time consuming covertly snapping photos of Lan Zhan’s face every day. Now Wei Ying can start his own collection. Huaisang throws his phone back onto his bed and continues studying on his laptop. He’s about an hour away from finishing his last essay of the year.

In the corner of the room, his arms and legs tied together with purple rope, Jiang Cheng tries to speak but he mostly just dribbles on himself.

Huaisang walks over and gently removes the ball gag from his boyfriend’s mouth. “What was that?”

“Fucking finally.”

The end.