Chapter Text
The first time that Zhehan and Gong Jun visit the San Francisco airport since their arrival in the city one year ago to the week, Gong Jun drives their own car. Twelve months into their city stay, Gong Jun maintains his healthy relationship with public transit, but it’s different when there will soon be a couple of extra people to transport.
“I’m so glad they asked us to do this,” Zhehan says as he and Gong Jun leave their car in the parking garage and make their way into the airport’s main entrance. “You know, I always worried that those sweethearts would never ask a thing of us no matter how much we insisted.”
Gong Jun nods and keeps a careful eye on his phone and the time. Checks for new messages. Sees none and imagines the flight must just be running late. “I know, I know,” he answers. “You’d think after all the side dishes they’ve hidden in our takeout bags for free, they’d be more willing to accept help.”
Zhehan thinks that the darling woman who owns their favorite restaurant and who has served them more hot pot in sum than exists in San Francisco at any given moment is asking a favor. He thinks that he and Gong Jun are here to escort her parents back to the city. It would be their first time visiting the States, their first time seeing the restaurant their daughter opened —the same restaurant where she met her husband nearly thirty years ago.
“Public transportation wouldn’t be comfortable for them, I’m afraid, and maybe not terribly accessible. They’re healthy but still rather old,” Gong Jun told Zhehan one afternoon over hot pot. “She probably won’t ask us for help, but I think we should offer…”
The conversation had been easy after that, save for one or two protests that Gong Jun and Zhehan easily overcame.
“Two weeks from now,” she finally said. “They’ll be here mid-day. I’m sure we could manage to pick them up, but it would mean closing the shop for the day, and—“
That was all Zhehan needed to wave his hands and accept. Gong Jun smiled, and the owner winked at him on her way back to the kitchen.
“Flight’s a little late, I think.” Once they’ve joined the numerous other families and friends waiting for their loved ones in the airport lobby, Gong Jun confirms his suspicions by craning his neck to peer at the monitors listing all the incoming flights and their arrival times—or, in this case, their delays. “Not by much, though. Twenty minutes, maybe.”
Zhehan doesn’t seem to mind, as he settles easily into an airport chair and whips out one of the books he’s picked up from his latest trip to the library.
Gong Jun sits beside him, leans just far enough to the left so that his and Zhehan’s shoulders are touching, and unlocks his phone. A handful of messages finally wait for him, as if they’ve all come in at once after being held hostage by the flight’s unreliable wi-fi. The last reads, “about to descend so we’re losing signal.”
No, Gong Jun doesn’t have the contact information for the parents of his and Zhehan’s friend. He does however, have Xiaoyu’s number. He does have his mother-in-law’s number. And, just now, he’s received a message from both of them saying that there was air traffic delay but that they’ll be landing shortly.
Zhehan has absolutely no idea.
“Let us know when you’ve landed,” Gong Jun replies to each of them with a similar message even though they’re flying together. “We’ll see you by baggage claim.” He ends his text to Xiaoyu with a shark emoji and ends the text to Zhehan’s mother with the smiley face surrounded by three hearts.
Gong Jun is just as excited to see her as he would be to see his own parents. He knows that they’ll visit soon enough, too, maybe even with his grandmother. He can only hope that the time will pass quickly, and in the meantime he can’t even begin to fathom how good it will be to find himself trapped in one of Xiaoyu’s crushing hugs or to be gently berated by Zhang Mama for not calling often enough.
“Here,” Xiaoyu texts simply. “In the customs line.” He’s a man of few words both virtually and in person.
Gong Jun nudges Zhehan with his shoulder. “Bao, finish your page. They landed.”
Zhehan doesn’t dilly-saddle, but he doesn’t rush, either.
You’d be sprinting if you had any idea, Gong Jun thinks. “Good?” he asks when Zhehan closes the book.
“Good,” Zhehan nods and smiles.
They follow the signs and wander toward the baggage claim without any real outward urgency, though Gong Jun’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest that he can hear his blood rushing just as clearly as he can feel his pulse thrumming somewhere deep behind his eardrums. It’s taking everything he has to avoid acting out of the ordinary.
Of course, just because airport lines are often efficient doesn’t mean that they’re not painfully slow. While they wait, Gong Jun and Zhehan make games out of guessing who will pick up which piece of luggage, and they note the bags that revolve again and again, unclaimed.
“That could be yours,” Zhehan points out, pointing to one of the last bags on the conveyor belt without anyone in sight to claim it.
Gong Jun rolls his eyes. “I was filmed remembering that I forgot my luggage one time, and neither you nor the internet are going to let it go.”
Zhehan crosses his arms across his chest, grins with a close-lipped smile, and nods resolutely.
Then, Gong Jun watches as Zhehan’s arms fall limply to his side and his mouth relaxes to hang open fully with shock. There’s no movement of his nose or his chest—Zhehan sees Xiaoyu and his mother a few luggage claims away, and his breath stops entirely. His mother waves frantically and speeds up her walk, and Xiaoyu offers a more subdued wave of his own. Even from here, Gong Jun can see his smile, though. He doesn’t have to quicken his pace too much to keep up with Zhang Mama’s much shorter legs.
“I hope it’s a good surprise,” Gong Jun says quietly.
Of all the sparkles Gong Jun has seen in Zhehan’s expressions, the light that fills Zhehan’s eyes when he bends his knees to embrace his mother is the greatest. It’s full of a different kind of love than he has for Gong Jun. Zhehan’s smile is quick to reflect the brightness of his eyes, and soon Gong Jun is convinced that the entirety of their solar system could change its course to follow his partner’s radiance.
Tears form and fall without shame against Zhehan’s dewy cheeks, and Gong Jun’s own eyes reflexively moisten as he watches Zhehan hug his mother so tightly that he lifts her off her feet and spins.
“Hey.” Xiaoyu is at Gong Jun’s side. With his mask pulled down beneath his chin, he offers Gong Jun one of those enigmatic smiles he’s missed so much. “Did he finally sing you that song?” Xiaoyu asks with his arm around Gong Jun’s shoulders. Together, they watch Zhehan and Zhang Mama fall into a frenzy of conversation as if they’ve entirely forgotten the world around them.
“Yeah,” Gong Jun says. “He did.”
Xiaoyu’s burst of warm relief is as tangible as Zhehan’s joy when grabs his mother up into his arms again for an eighth or ninth hug. Gong Jun easily finds Zhehan’s voice in his head, singing again and again, You are my—
“Let’s go home,” Gong Jun says.
Come away with me.