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When Wei Wuxian steps off the bus with A-Yuan balanced carefully against his hip, he finds Yiling park is less crowded than expected for a sunny autumn day. That may be due to the exhibition downtown, or to the cool breeze snaking over the grounds and blowing hair into people’s faces no matter how carefully they’d tied their ponytail. He swipes his hair back irritably and checks that A-Yuan’s coat is still buttoned up. It hadn’t been this cool back at his apartment, but after a few months of babysitting Wei Wuxian has learned at least a few things, and one of those things is that Wen Qing will absolutely pummel him if he takes the kid out without a jacket.
“This is usually a really nice place,” he tells A-Yuan as they walk hand-in-tiny-hand toward the pedestrian boulevard. “When I was in school, four different classmates of mine got engaged here, over by the river, and there’s a playground further in, and sometimes there are fireworks.”
The grounds haven’t changed much since those days, which were, admittedly, only a year ago so he’s not sure what he was expecting. The walking paths are still lined with trees and flower bushes for every season, and the electric lanterns overhead creak as they swing in the breeze. It’s just not really the sort of place he ever imagined Lan Wangji frequenting. Full of couples and families with children, or usually full anyway. Lan Wangji likes solitude and quiet. At least, he used to.
Maybe something’s changed in the last few months. Something that would make him actually respond to one of Wei Wuxian’s messages for once. And invite him somewhere. On a not-date, because Wei Wuxian is very certain that Lan Wangji doesn’t… date. And he definitely doesn’t date university dropouts, no matter the state of their previous friendship, or what sorts of daydreams and hopes Wei Wuxian still guiltily harbors.
Not that the knowledge stops Wei Wuxian’ heart speeding up as he finally catches sight of a figure in a long white overcoat, standing quiet and self-contained next to one of the bubbling fountains spread throughout the park. Not that reminding himself of it keeps his palms from sweating as they draw nearer.
“Lan Zhan,” he calls when he can’t bear to wait any longer, and it’s gratifying, how quickly Lan Wangji turns.
“Wei Ying,” he says, and there might even be a hint of a smile there before his eyes lock on A-Yuan and a frown etches itself between his brows. “This is …?”
“Oh!” Wei Wuxian realizes, quite suddenly, that he never actually… sent that update text about his situation. Oops. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologies. “This is A-Yuan. I don’t usually watch him on Saturdays, but his family had a—a thing today.” He waves his free hand, as if it can encompass the Wen family’s various complications and commitments.
Lan Wangji stares down at A-Yuan without responding.
“Is—is that okay?” Wei Wuxian bites his lip. “If it’s not I think I’m free next week—”
“It’s fine,” Lan Wangji says. And then, with some concern, “Is he cold?”
Wei Wuxian looks down to find A-Yuan has turned his face into Wei Wuxian’s leg, like he’s hiding from the wind. But he’s not shivering, or clinging. It’s more like his occasional behavior at the supermarket, when it’s overcrowded.
“Ah, no, I think he’s just shy.” He pets A-Yuan’s hair. “A-Yuan,” he coaxes, “This is Lan Zhan, Xian-gege’s friend from school. He’s the one who invited us out to play today.” A-Yuan shakes his head and stays stubbornly turned into him. Wei Wuxian can barely bite back his smile as he says, “Lan Zhan, your face is too severe, he thinks you’re angry.”
Lan Wangji manages to look even more concerned at this, and Wei Wuxian laughs. “It’s fine, it’s fine, he really is shy. It took him two days to warm up to me when I was first watching him.” He slings off his backpack and nudges A-Yuan closer to the fountain. “He’ll do better for a bit of a distraction.”
The backpack is overstuffed with things he or A-Yuan might need, but it’s easy enough to find the butterfly and the dragon he likes best.
“A-Yuan,” he says, holding them out, “Do you want to show Lan Zhan your toys?”
A-Yuan bites his lip, his little hands clenching tight as he reaches out and then pulls back.
“A-Yuan is hungry,” he declares, and Wei Wuxian sighs.
“We ate lunch an hour ago. I told you already, we can get noodles in a little while. All I have for you right now is shrimp crackers and dried plums.”
A-Yuan pouts. Shrimp crackers and dried plums are tied for his least favorite snack, but between his anticipation of this outing with Lan Wangji and the unexpected chaos his morning had turned into Wei Wuxian hasn’t refreshed his supplies yet this week. He sets the toys on the wide edge of the fountain and turns with a grimace. “Sorry, Lan Zhan,” he says. “Sometimes he—”
“Will these work?” Lan Wangji produces a brightly colored bag of Lotus chips and holds them out to A-Yuan, who nods eagerly.
“Lan Zhan...” Wei Wuxian watches him open the snacks and pick out a careful pile of chips that he presents on a paper napkin. Watches A-Yuan smile widely at him and offer up his most polite and heartfelt ‘thank you.’ There’s another, immediately recognizable snack bag peeking out of Lan Wangji’s bike pannier—the spicy version of the same brand of lotus snacks, which Wei Wuxian had eaten almost every day while they were in classes together and which he knows for a fact Lan Wangji personally abhors.
For a moment he’s so overcome with nostalgia and inexplicable gratitude that he can’t even see what’s directly in front of him until Lan Wangji call his name.
“What?” he blinks hard and clears his throat before meeting Lan Wangji’s gaze. “Sorry, Lan Zhan, what-ah. What did you even want to do today, anyway?”
Lan Wangji looks at him for a moment, and then at A-Yuan happily eating and playing, and then nods to himself. He goes back to his bike panniers and rummages for a moment, reappearing with a bike helmet, which he pushes into Wei Wuxian’s unresisting hands.
“What’s this for?” he asks, staring at it. It looks suspiciously like Lan Wangji’s own bike helmet with the white and the blue detailing to match his fancy road bike, but he supposes it’s possible there’s a second one. Lan Wangji had to buy it somewhere, right?
“Riding,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian sighs and passes the helmet back.
“Lan Zhan, wherever you want to go I’m sure we can walk. Or catch a bus! Get a taxi. It’s too—too windy to bike, and there’s no seat for A-Yuan on a rental.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders like he’s warding of chills. Hot noodles are sounding more and more appealing.
“You should learn,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian goes still. Not even remotely a date then. Definitely not a date. No, instead Lan Wangji has found yet another weakness to poke his long, beautiful fingers into. Damn him.
“Who told you?”
Lan Wangji is impassive, as ever. “You were at the skate park. With Wen Qionglin.”
Wei Wuxian frowns. He spends a few evenings a week at the skate park with Wen Ning, but none of that time is really related to—oh. Oh. The trick bike, two weeks ago. Which means Lan Wangji saw him crash into a bench and nearly break his wrist. Whoops.
“Lan Zhan, that was a one-time thing,” he promises. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to be trying that again.” Even if riding a bike would be worlds more convenient than walking next time he misses the bus to work. “I’m fine, really. There are plenty of ways to get around the city.” He turns on his heel and scrunches up his face in the direction of a happy couple on the walking paths. This is really not—wait. “Wait.” He spins back around. “Did you mean—you want to teach me?”
Lan Wangji is looking down at the helmet in his hands, not meeting Wei Wuxian’s eyes.
“Mn,” he says, low enough that Wei Wuxian can hardly hear it over the rush of the fountain. He leans closer.
“Is there a special reason?” he asks with renewed hope.
“Wei Ying should learn,” Lan Wangji repeats.
So much for that then. Wei Wuxian pouts. But maybe he can turn this to his advantage. Bike riding lessons could take hours. Maybe days. It could take multiple meetings, with and without A-Yuan in tow. At minimum, it means more time spent with Lan Wangji, more opportunities to figure out if this is friendship rekindled or—or something else.
“Okay.” He plucks the helmet from Lan Wangji’s hands and smiles at the hint of surprise on his face. “Let’s do it.”
Of course, as with anything involving Lan Wangji, there are complications. It’s not enough to just get on a bike and point it down a clear patch of pavement, no, there are steps. The first of which is wearing a helmet, which takes a few minutes to get settled properly; Wei Wuxian has no idea how Lan Wangji manages to wear it and still have such perfectly neat hair all the time. Wei Wuxian does not have that gift. His ponytail gets in the way, and Lan Wangji meets the suggestion that they could just move on without the helmet with an icy stare. So Wei Wuxian takes down his hair and puts it up again three separate times, and stops to tease A-Yuan and let himself be laughed at, and then the straps have to be adjusted again, and again.
That part at least is mostly pleasant. Lan Wangji stands close enough that Wei Wuxian can count his eyelashes as he frowns and messes with plastic clips and slips his fingers carefully between Wei Wuxian’s skin and the buckle. It takes two tries before he’s satisfied that the helmet isn’t going to slip off and leave Wei Wuxian to rattle his brain against the concrete, and by the time he steps back Wei Wuxian has very nearly convinced himself that a kiss would be a harmless, innocuous thing and not at all a risk that makes his insides tie themselves into knots. Very, very nearly, but not quite well enough to close that last bit of distance between them.
Adjusting the bike’s seat is significantly more frustrating.
“It’s fine,” Wei Wuxian insists, impatient after getting on and off the bike four times for what seem to be extremely minor adjustments.
“It’s safer if your feet can touch the ground while you’re learning,” Lan Wangji says, unhooking the latch again.
“They touch!” Wei Wuxian fumes. “I’m not that much shorter than you, I’ll knock myself out with my own knees if that seat goes any lower.” Not that any of his protests seem to matter in the face of Lan Wangji’s conviction.
Finally, finally, after the seat is adjusted and Lan Wangji has stubbornly held the whole bike still so that Wei Wuxian can try putting his feet on the pedals without falling over, they can really get underway. Wei Wuxian moves A-Yuan to a slightly safer distance from both bicycle and fountain, tells him to stay put so he doesn’t get hurt, and straddles the bike one last time. Lan Wangji holds onto the rack in an effort to keep the bike steady without being directly in the way, but it’s still a wobbly effort. Wei Wuxian looks down the stretched out downhill slope of pavement before him and sees nothing but a hard surface to fall on. For a moment he considers the merits of calling the whole thing of and insisting on an early dinner after all. His wrist twinges with remembered pain.
But Lan Wangji has gone to so much effort, and this is the first time he’s reached out for anything in months. If Wei Wuxian backs out now he might not get another chance to see him for even longer.
“Okay.” The handlebars wobble and he tightens his grip with a grimace; Lan Wangji’s biek is the lightest, most responsive bicycle he’s ever so much as touched. “Okay,” he repeats. “What next, Lan Zhan?”
“Pedal slowly, and remember the breaks,” Lan Wangji says at his shoulder, and then they’re moving, Lan Wangji’s footsteps at his side as the tires roll and the pavement speeds by, faster and faster, and then he realizes he can’t hear Lan Wangji’s footsteps anymore and he’s gliding along on his own. Coasting down the hill. Speeding up.
The speed is exhilarating. Like jumping off a diving board or taking the half-pipe a little too fast. He lets out a whoop and leans into it and tries to pedal faster, and then the bike leaps suddenly sideways, and there’s a moment of trying to pedal backwards and trying to reach the brake levers at the same time, and then the whole bike shudders underneath him and the horizon slips sideways and he hits the ground and slides.
For a few seconds he just lies on his side doing a mental inventory of his parts. Ow. His left ankle and upper arm hurt. There’s gravel under his face. He has no idea where the bike is. He thinks A-Yuan might be crying in the distance.
“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji’s voice draws nearer. “Wei Ying,” right overhead. A hand grabs at his shoulder, another pressing to his face.
“Xian-gege!” A-Yuan yells, almost directly into his ear, still crying, and Wei Wuxian reaches a hand up for him.
“I’m okay,” he says as soothingly as he can, patting blindly at A-Yuan’s head. “Shhhh, Xian-gege is okay, A-Yuan.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji repeats, like he thinks Wei Wuxian can’t hear him.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian struggles to sit up, a process made more difficult by both A-Yuan and Lan Wangji’s hovering presence so close to his face. “Did I scratch up your bike?” He looks around for clues to its whereabouts, but Lan Wangji makes a dismissive noise and grabs at his hand.
“Are you hurt?” he asks.
“No,” Wei Wuxian lies. Bruises don’t count, especially not with Lan Wangji holding his hand. “Lan Zhan, I’m fine, I promise,” he insists when Lan Wangji looks unconvinced. More than unconvinced, Lan Wangji looks almost regretful. “Hey, hey, no,” Wei Wuxian squeezes his hand. Dares to tug him a little closer. “I’m fine. Nothing an ice pack won’t cure.”
“Xian-gege.” A-Yuan chooses that moment to crawl from Lan Wangji’s lap to his and press tiny toddler hands into his face. “Xian-gege is hurt,” he says, pushing at Wei Wuxian’s cheeks in a way that does, admittedly, make him wince.
“Everything’s okay, A-Yuan.” Wei Wuxian sighs and lets of of Lan Wangji’s hand to wipe at the tears on A-Yuan’s cheeks. “I’m not hurt. I just messed up. Do you remember what we do when we mess up?”
A-Yuan nods seriously. “Try again,” he says dutifully, and Wei Wuxian grins and bops his nose gently.
“That’s right! We try again. So that’s what we’re going to do, and then we’re going to go get noodles. Deal?”
“Mn!” A-Yuan nods eagerly.
“Deal, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks, still grinning even though his cheek hurts with it, and even though his whole body is probably going to ache tomorrow morning, especially if he falls again. “Let me repay you for the lesson with dinner?”
Lan Wangji gives him a long, slow look, but there’s a hint of a smile there. Just enough to send Wei Wuxian’s heart soaring all over again.
“Mn,” he agrees.