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You Zhangjing is not the type. He isn’t the type of person who tolerates getting pushed around or mocked. He isn’t someone who’s supposed to get stood up (mostly because he never goes on these dates in the first place). This situation that Zhangjing finds himself in, whatever this is, is not him.
But he's also mature. Yes.
Before he lets himself get riled up, Zhangjing sends one more text to his supposed date, some prick named Bei Honglin, refusing to look at his previously ignored messages from a few hours ago.
You: You’re not coming are you
Zhangjing waits all but two minutes before he takes another swig of his drink. Numbness washes over him and he decides he doesn’t care.
You: dick. i hope you choke!
He doesn’t care. Really. Zhangjing takes a shaky breath and counts down slowly in his head, clenching his fists until his nails threaten to draw blood in his palm. The alcohol pulses through his systems, dulling his rationality, but yeah. Zhangjing doesn’t care. He blinks back the tears threatening to spill out of the corners of his eyes and tries distancing himself from the situation, because he’s seen all sorts of situations where people acted in the heat of the moment and regretted it. Distance is good. Distance makes sense.
Zhanging gives a sigh of relief as he pictures himself on his living room couch, fiddling with the dingy karaoke machine that never works and pretending it works anyway. He imagines himself belting out the loudest, highest chords of Let The World be Destroyed instead of sitting here, fingers tapping furiously at the edge of the restaurant bar, alone while Bei Honglin who can’t even be bothered to send a text has the audacity to bail when he should have been here three hours ago. He hopes Bei Honglin ends up somewhere far, far away abandoned in a ditch or something, and anyway if anything it should be Zhangjing who—
“Hey,” Zhangjing snaps his head up when a palm lands gently on his shoulder. It’s warm and soft, but he really can’t be bothered right now. He can’t be bothered to do anything but go home and fume.
“What?” It comes out a little harsher than he means, but he’s mad and he just got stood up and this is why he never accepts date offers on fucking fake-ass Tinder and—oh. Oh. Hold up. This stranger’s hot. Zhangjing needs a moment.
“I know you’re livid, but I think you should be a little kinder to the table.” Mr. Attractive either skips over or doesn’t notice Zhangjing’s sudden silence as he gestures at Zhangjing’s hands. When Zhangjing glances over, he realizes that he has been subconsciously clawing at it. His nails leave little scratches, chipped wood paint scattered around them. Oops.
Zhangjing feels the tips of his ears burn and he looks away. Of course this guy isn’t here to strike up a friendly conversation. He’s just here to point out Zhangjing’s wrongdoings, because Murphy’s Law is real. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Stupid Bei Honglin with his stupid pretty Tinder profile set off a chain of unfortunate events that Zhangjing unfortunately has to bear the brunt of. But who is this guy to make his life worse? Zhangjing has never seen him in his life. Also, the table has never done anything good for him, so why should he refrain from scratching it up. It’s not like this guy has the right to have a say in it. This matter is between Zhangjing and the table, and Zhangjing and the table alone. “I don’t even know you,” he says after thinking this through.
The stranger smiles at him, and Zhangjing actually gulps. Honestly, Murphy’s Law can die in a ditch. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this, meeting a handsome stranger who isn’t here to pick him up, right after getting stood up. He takes another sip of his drink, shuddering a little as it makes its way down his throat. Shamelessly, he looks the stranger up and down, because for some reason, he’s the only thing his muddled mind can focus on right now.
He takes note of how his hair is combed kind of messy. It’s the styled kind of ruffled, which Zhangjing normally doesn’t go for, but when he smiles, two beautiful, symmetrical dimples appear on his face, right beside his prettily plump lips. Cute, Zhangjing thinks. The stranger’s eyes stay trained on him, and his smile grows to reach his eyes. “No,” he says, “but we can fix that.”
It takes Zhangjing a moment to remember what he said to elicit this response, but when he does… damn. Zhangjing doesn’t even have time to catch himself before his jaw falls open. “Damn,” Zhangjing repeats, because that’s the smoothest thing anyone has ever said to him. He’s really never experienced this before, a pick up line from someone who’s teasing him. The stranger just keeps smiling at him, obviously pleased with himself, and Zhangjing finds himself wishing he had styled his hair a little better, maybe curled it so he wouldn’t feel so ugly and plain next to him. He hates feeling self conscious.
Yanjun winks at him and says, “Let’s get you something better to drink. Your beer is just piss water.”
Okay, wait. Zhangjing feels a surge of sudden anger. This drink has been with him from the beginning, since before Zhangjing knew he was getting stood up until now, staying by his side as he gets mocked by this stranger. It’s his friend. They’ve bonded. “I don’t appreciate you slamming my drink like this,” he mumbles, wrapping a protective hand around the glass.
The drink, however, is soon pushed aside by a new glass, short and wide with a mini iceberg in the middle. The liquid that fills it about three fourths is a pretty amber color. Zhangjing compares its beauty to the plainness of his old drink sadly. Next to this new drink, it looks dull, glass clouded by Zhangjing’s fingerprints and completely watered down. Zhangjing relates, but drinks the new one anyway. He accepts the weakness of his mentality and apologizes for his betrayal in the process.
It burns his throat a little as it goes down, but Zhangjing doesn’t mind too much because it makes his insides warm and fuzzy. He watches his old drink get taken away apologetically.
The stranger introduces himself as Lin Yanjun, a handsome name for a handsome face. Zhangjing thinks he says the second part out loud, because Yanjun chuckles and gives him another smile. Zhangjing can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the warmth in Yanjun’s expression that flushes his cheeks and pools his stomach with warmth, but he quickly decides it doesn’t really matter when he introduces his name and Yanjun grins again. He could get used to this feeling. “You Zhangjing, huh. So I take it I can look forward to this relationship advancing?”
Zhangjing finds himself laughing into the back of his hand. His name, You Zhangjing, although spelled with different characters, sounds exactly like the phrase “having improvement.” Zhangjing thinks it’s funny how quickly Yanjun puts this fact to use. What a tease. For real, why was he messing with him so much. Surely Zhangjing isn’t that entertaining. “Sure,” Zhangjing drawls when he calms down, “maybe if you buy me some food.”
Even if Yanjun is just playing with him, at least now he can get something out of it too.
“Consider it done.” Yanjun waves a waiter over and asks for a plate of fried chicken. The waiter is charming, his hair neatly tucked behind his ears and smile boyish. Zhangjing thinks about how good they look together in the back of his mind, and vaguely wonders why Yanjun doesn’t hit it off with the waiter instead. Then he remembers that the waiter is on shift, and feels dumb.
He and Yanjun continue to talk about anything and everything. Zhangjing mentions that he works as an entertainer, sometimes performing at small restaurant events or parties—“Wait, really! You should sing for me sometime”—Zhangjing promises to, even though he’s not even sure if they’ll ever meet again, because for some reason he feels eager to show off to Yanjun. Also the way Yanjun’s looking at him makes it impossible to say no.
In his fuzzy, half-drunken state, Zhangjing can’t really read the passage of time, but the food seems to come quickly after that.
Around mouthfuls of meat, Zhangjing learns that Yanjun also works in the entertainment industry, but as a model (with acting on the side). Zhangjing almost drops his chicken in awe—actually, does drop his chicken, because he finds himself picking it back up. “Waah, no wonder you’ve got such a pretty…” Zhangjing frowns. Pretty what? Pretty eyebrows, yes, but Zhangjing also feels the need to mention his smile, and dimples, and of course his voice. Also the fact that he’s all sharp edges in all the right places. It’s almost breathtaking.
Zhangjing finds, as he chews on his chicken thoughtfully, that he can’t decide. He gives Yanjun a slow once-over, deep in thought, but doesn’t really register anything except for, well, everything. So he settles with that. “...everything,” Zhangjing says, and he traces Yanjun’s shape with the chicken on his fork.
–
Yanjun, Zhangjing finds, is really fucking funny. Somewhere in their conversation, Yanjun reverts to telling cold jokes, and Zhangjing can’t stop laughing.
The latest one—“I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated with you,” has Zhangjing in tears, because first of all, he is 99% sure Yanjun is drunk, and second of all, why would Yanjun be attracted to him. Zhangjing is losing it.
Sometime between his third and fourth drink, when their laughter dies down to small hiccups and flushed cheeks, Yanjun decides that it’s time to go. “I’ll call you a cab,” he offers as he helps Zhangjing out of his seat.
Zhangjing is about to reply when his shoe catches on the bottom of the stool and he stumbles. The impact of his body against something warm draws out a breathless gasp, and he looks up to see Yanjun smirking down at him. Zhangjing feels his cheeks flush even hotter and moves to push himself away, but Yanjun snakes an arm around his waist and draws him closer.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft. Coaxing. “Let’s plan a second date, yeah? I had fun tonight.”
Zhangjing feels himself going with the flow, the words “yeah, let’s” on the tip of his tongue before he processes what Yanjun just said. Date? He runs the word through his head over and over again, trying to figure out if it could also mean “play around with a guy who got just stood up,” but his mind feels sluggish from their proximity, so he gives up. “Date?” He asks, looking up at Yanjun questioningly. “Yanjun…” a pause. “Were you hitting on me?”
Zhangjing feels his heart weirdly rise and tighten at the same time as he watches Yanjun let go of him and double over, laughing harder than he’s ever seen anyone laugh in his life. Zhangjing sticks with his previous assessment. Yanjun is definitely drunk. How else can someone laugh so hard?
“Zhangjing,” he says (is he wiping away tears?) when he finally calms down, “You’re really fucking cute.”
“Thanks?” Zhangjing still doesn’t get it. Yes or no? Is this the pinnacle of his humiliation? “So, are you?”
Yanjun gives him another smile, which Zhangjing basks in, but also he just wants an answer. “Did it hurt?”
He refuses the urge to roll his eyes. “If you say when I fell from heaven, I’ll hit you.”
Yanjun only scoffs in response. “When your date bailed on you? Because I’m here to pick you up.”
Wow, this guy. Zhangjing barks out a laugh, and then it’s like a dam bursts in him, because he can’t stop. It’s the worst pick up line Zhangjing’s ever heard, which is saying a lot because he’s pretty sure every line Yanjun has said tonight makes the list. But this one, this one takes the cake.
Amidst Zhangjing’s uncontrollable laughter, Yanjun somehow manages to wrap his arm back around Zhangjing without him noticing. When Zhangjing’s laughter finally fizzes out, he finds himself, once again, face to face with Yanjun in alarming proximity. Behind Yanjun’s gaze, he vaguely picks up on something soft, but underneath that, something dark. Almost hungry.
It's that expression, the almost-hunger, that makes Zhangjing feel all fidgety. Before he knows it, his brain-to-mouth filter all but evaporates, and he’s babbling. “Uhh, wait. Yanjun. Lin Yanjun.” He flicks his eyes up and darts his tongue across his lips. For some reason, Yanjun’s gaze intensifies after he does that, and Zhangjing is forced to look back down. “I was only planning to go on a date with the Tinder guy, maybe decide on a second date, but that’s it. I wasn’t planning on having… you know, that with him. I think it’s a little early to do that on the first date—oh! Not that it’s bad if that’s your thing, I mean, I totally support you… if that’s your thing…” Wow, Zhangjing is talking way too much, but at least Yanjun’s gaze seems to be lightening slightly. Still though, Zhangjing is too much. He physically slaps a hand over his mouth to shut himself up, and waits for Yanjun to take over. Someone should revoke his rights to a mouth. Screw freedom of speech, Zhangjing shouldn’t have it.
Yanjun laughs again, his warm breath tickling Zhangjing’s cheek. “I was only going to kiss you.” Zhangjing gulps as Yanjun drags his eyes over Zhangjing’s mouth. His voice drops lower in a way that sends a shiver down Zhangjing’s spine. “Is that okay?”
Zhangjing’s eyes widen, and he finds himself stuttering, “Y-Yes! Kissing. Kissing is fine. Kissing is… good.”
Yanjun pulls back a little so they’re face to face, Zhangjing’s head tilted up slightly in Yanjun’s fingers so they can look into each other’s eyes.
“So…” Zhangjing begins, but then Yanjun leans in and presses their lips together, effectively shutting him up.
Upon contact, Zhangjing feels his heart seize in his chest. Yanjun’s lips are soft and warm, simultaneously filling Zhangjing’s face with warmth and sending a shiver down his spine. They stay like that for a moment, linked in a close-mouthed kiss, before Yanjun prods his mouth open with a flick of the tongue. Zhangjing feels Yanjun’s tongue enter his mouth, foreign but strangely pleasant. He allows Yanjun to lick inside, exploring every corner of Zhangjing’s mouth, and Zhangjing lets himself melt into the warmth of Yanjun’s lips on his. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this feeling.
When Yanjun finally pulls back, Zhangjing is breathless. He wants to kiss him a little longer and maybe hold him because, wow, it felt good. Zhangjing wants to feel it again, and he opens his mouth to say so, but Yanjun puts a finger to his lips.
“I think that’s enough for today.” He smiles, his voice (is Zhangjing imagining it?) a little strained, stupid dimples peaking out. “I’m going to go call a cab for you, so make sure you get home safe.”
He turns around with a chuckle and winks over his shoulder. “The next time we meet, our intimacy is sure to improve even further.”
–
A short time later, when Zhangjing has settled into the comfort of sitting on the restaurant steps, back against the wall, Yanjun waves him over. His hand rests on the open door of a cab and his grin is illuminated by the orangey glow of the streetlights. Zhangjing smiles and waves back, his body growing impossibly warm.
They quickly exchange numbers and share a small hug until the cab driver gives them a gruff “hurry up” and they’re forced to separate. Zhangjing closes the door, but they retain eye contact through the window. Zhangjing does his best to memorize the little details on Yanjun’s face.
Without warning, the cab driver lurches the car forward, and Zhangjing to hits his head on the seat in front of him. He breaks into a fit of giggles and rubs his head, looking up just in time to see Yanjun let out a bark of laughter. Fool. Zhangjing flips him off playfully with a tug of the lips.
As the cab rounds the corner, Zhangjing watches Yanjun’s waving figure disappear into the night, sinking into the cushions of the cab. His body still tingles from Yanjun’s touch, little ghosts of warmth dancing on his skin.
He falls into a trance-like state, idly watching the city lights cast moving shadows on the seats. His mind is focused on nothing and his insides are still warm when he feels a vibration in his pocket.
Prick Honglin: damn b chill
Zhangjing sticks out his tongue and fights the urge to send a picture flipping him off, opting to block his number instead. He’ll be mature, he decides. And besides, he feels weirdly grateful, because he ended up meeting Yanjun.
Yeah.
As he closes his eyes to the image of flashy dimples and smooth pick up lines, he finds that getting stood up is the furthest thing on his mind.