Chapter Text
The car is… not great.
It’s not bad, by any means. It’s got the potential to be good, it’ll be better once Lan Zhan is able to share his feedback with the team and they make some improvements, but it’s just not great. Not as good as last year. A hundred minute little things are wrong with it, unsettling Lan Zhan immensely.
None of this shows on his face, of course, as he gets out of the car and takes off his helmet, as he’s guided off to the side by a mechanic. He takes the opportunity to lean his back against a wall as he slowly sips his water, surveying the entire track, thankful for the shade the awning overhead gives him. Somehow, they always manage to schedule pre-season testing in the hottest place possible. Someone should take action about that— it’s not like the provisions made to cool them down are effective more than 30 percent of the time. Then again, in all his years in this sport, Lan Zhan has found that there exists a neverending list of issues that need to be resolved but never end up actually being resolved, if only because someone high up the ladder devises some new form of torture that needs to be handled more urgently. Races in torturously hot conditions where they all feel like they're being boiled alive has been a concern they have brought up repeatedly, only for nothing to change.
Lan Zhan is lost in thought, but not so lost in thought that he fails to notice when Wei Ying walks over, guided over by an engineer whose hand rests low on his back. Red and black look good on him, Lan Zhan thinks. Much better than purple if one were to ask him, but he is certain most fans don't share that opinion. They are not really the type to take well to change. Lan Zhan does not glare daggers at the engineer who is touching Wei Ying. He does not look at the way Wei Ying’s race suit appears almost cinched at the waist. He also, pointedly, does not look when Wei Ying uncaps his own water bottle and takes long gulps from it, his throat working in a way that should be innocent but is anything but— Wei Ying has a particular talent for making simple actions look obscene, but perhaps that is Lan Zhan's own bias talking. He turns slightly towards Wei Ying once he feels he has gotten a hold of himself, preparing himself for the moment he has waited for since he first saw the announcement.
The thing is, Lan Zhan has always envisioned that when the two of them meet again— when, not if, he has always been certain that he would see Wei Ying again somehow, somewhere— it would be dramatic. Their eyes would meet from afar and they would simply stare at each other, both too stunned, too arrested by the eye contact to move. Perhaps one of their team staff would attempt to usher them away, only for them to break away, ask their team to wait while they call out to each other, or walk the distance towards each other. They stare at each other before they both move in sync so neither knows who moves first, only that they are in each others arms. A bit unrealistic, of course, but Lan Zhan likes to think he has the privilege of being unrealistic within the confines of his own mind.
In reality, their reunion is not dramatic in the least. It is as simple as Wei Ying wiping the stray drops of water that have escaped his mouth with the back of his hand, heaving a sigh and turning to look at Lan Zhan with the same bright eyes he had the last time they had seen each other.
“Hey, Lan Zhan,” he says with a small smile. It’s not the bright, dazzling smile that captivates the entire world, but the private little one Lan Zhan had had the rare privilege of seeing on occasion, whenever they spoke alone.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan replies, wondering if the depth of his yearning, of every emotion he has ever felt towards this man can somehow fit into the syllables of his name, if they can bear the weight of his longing. “Have you been well?”
Wei Ying’s smile widens when Lan Zhan speaks. It triggers a pang of guilt as Lan Zhan remembers all the times he had ignored Wei Ying, of all the times he had dismissed him in frustration when they were children. He had rued every such incident when Wei Ying had disappeared.
“Ah, you know me, Lan Zhan, I always land on my feet!” Wei Ying exclaims with a grin. “Of course I don’t need to ask how you’ve been doing, Hanguang-jun! I guess I should say congrats? For last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year—”
“Enough,” Lan Zhan says, feeling his ears heat up at the praise. Coming from others, it is easy to accept flattery gracefully, but it is different from Wei Ying. With Wei Ying, he knows every word is genuine, so it means more. And from Wei Ying, it stings, because he suspects that if not for Wei Ying’s absence, he would not have as many championships as he does.
Wei Ying throws his head back and laughs. It is the same sound Lan Zhan remembers from four years ago, clear and joyful, just as beautiful as ever. “Ah, still as bashful as ever when receiving praise, I see!” he exclaims. “How are you going to handle people heaping compliments on you for making it five in a row?”
“I do not build castles in the air,” Lan Wangji says simply.
Wei Ying laughs again. This laugh is quieter, but just as warm and sincere. “Well, I guess that’s for the best, Lan Zhan, because I don’t plan on making things easy for you this year!”
Lan Zhan can feel his eyes soften, his lips quirk up as he hears those words. He wonders if Wei Ying can see it, can see how much he has missed hearing these challenges, missed competing against Wei Ying. “I expect nothing less,” he says sincerely.
Wei Ying’s answering smile brings crinkles to the corner of his eyes, his eyes themselves almost disappearing into crescents. Before he can say anything further, a few members of his team arrive, clearly to guide him to whatever they have planned for his next.
They don’t touch each other when they part ways. Wei Ying no doubt remembers that Lan Zhan prefers not to be touched, unlike the others on the grid who clap palms and exchange “bro-hugs”and dap up when they pass by each other— Lan Zhan has, after all, never told him that Wei Ying is the exception to this rule— and refrains from doing so when they’re off camera and Lan Zhan’s reluctance to touch cannot be interpreted by the media as standoffishness or a lack of sportsman spirit. Lan Zhan, for his part, does not dare to touch Wei Ying out of fear that if he does, he will never let go of Wei Ying.
Instead, Lan Zhan makes sure that he is the one who speaks Wei Ying’s signature phrase first— a phrase he had once reacted to with outbursts of “shameless” or “ridiculous” or “get lost”, and later with nods or hums.
“See you on track, Wei Ying,” he says.
When Wei Ying smiles in return, it feels as though the full force of the sun itself has been turned upon Lan Zhan— warm, bright, and beautiful.
“See you on track, Lan Zhan!”
Lan Zhan is fuming when he sees the result. He is not a sore loser by any means, but rules are not meant to be broken, something Wei Ying clearly does not understand. The boy himself does not even acknowledge that he has done something wrong, grinning widely and offering him an electrolyte bottle, as though he cannot tell how furious Lan Zhan is.
“You violated the rules,” he accuses, his eyes narrowed. “I am making a complaint.”
Wei Ying just laughs in that infuriating way of his that everyone else seems to find charming, that makes Lan Zhan want to grab him by the ponytail he keeps despite the other boys’ teasing that he’s pretty like a girl with that all that hair, despite the fact that he has to braid it and fit it under his race suit for every race. He wants to wrap a fist around it and—
“Lan Zhan, are you actually serious about that?” Wei Ying asks, interrupting his train of thought. “Isn’t this something we can just resolve between us?”
“You overtook off track,” Lan Zhan hisses through gritted teeth. “It is a clear violation of the rules. If you cannot abide by the rules, do not compete.”
Wei Ying, to his mounting irritation, simply shrugs. “Well, I wouldn’t have had to do that if you had left me enough of a gap. You broke the rules too!”
Lan Zhan knows he is right. He knows he hadn’t left enough space, that it could be constituted as forcing Wei Ying off the track. However, that does not excuse Wei Ying’s actions. It only meant that they both deserved to be penalized. He stays silent, refusing to change his mind.
Wei Ying shrugs again, as he begins to walk away. “If you report me, I’ll report you,” he says, “Equal treatment. Or we can both consider this a learning experience and grow from it. See you, Lan Zhan!”
He walks away nonchalantly, even as Lan Zhan’s hands curl into fists, his gaze caught by the swaying ponytail and his thoughts racing faster than his kart had been.
Infuriating. Stubborn. Shameless.
Lan Zhan turns on his heels and walks away in the opposite direction.
By the time they’ve packed up to leave, it has been announced that both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have been disqualified from the race.
The next time they meet at a race is two weeks later. Lan Zhan expects rage. He expects absolute fury. He expects, even, to be crashed out of the race, to be pushed into the barriers, the way he has seen his peers take their aggression out on each other.
What he does not expect is for absolutely none of that to happen. He and Wei Ying finish the race side by side, on the podium. Wei Ying is just as open and friendly with him as he has always been, chatters eagerly with him just as he does with the other boy who makes up the podium, even when the other boy is far more receptive and seems eager to talk to Wei Ying unlike Lan Zhan who stays silent.
He certainly does not expect Wei Ying to turn to him when they are alone— the other boy whose name he does not recall runs off to celebrate with his family— give him a warm smile and say, “You know, I admire you a lot, Lan Zhan!”
Lan Zhan simply blinks in astonishment.
Wei Ying grins. “You really did get yourself a penalty as well, without holding yourself to different standards! You’re really cool!”
Lan Zhan takes a deep breath. He cannot trust himself to speak. He does not know what he would say if he opened his mouth at this point.
Wei Ying only grins wider, uncaring of the lack of response. “Aiya, Lan Zhan, how about we become friends? We see each other at almost every race, and we keep ending up on the podium together. Aren’t we already so familiar?”
“We are not,” Lan Zhan bites out, incredulous at the direction of this conversation.
“Ah, then it’s time we start! There are a lot of benefits to being my friend, you know? Wouldn’t you want to reap them?” Wei Ying pairs his final words with an overfamiliar wink that makes a strange feeling materialize in Lan Zhan’s chest, like his heart is bubbling over.
“Shameless!” Lan Zhan snaps. It serves only to make Wei Ying laugh gleefully.
Lan Zhan has been raised to be polite, but at this very moment, he finds himself unable to care about that. He turns on his heel and walks away from Wei Ying, his heart pounding, his ears burning, his face feeling like it has caught on fire.
“Hey, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying calls after him, traces of laughter still evident in his voice, “See you on track!”
Lan Wangji squeezes his hands into fists, his nails digging painfully into his palms. Shameless, he echoes, this time in the privacy of his own mind.
One thing is for certain— he will never be friends with Wei Ying.