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Lan Zhan appreciates silence. Since he was a child, silence has surrounded him as a familiar and comfortable blanket, always welcomed in his mind.
He found himself creating silence for most of his childhood and teen years, until he moved out for college and met a boy with the power of a supernova behind his smallest smiles.
Then, he started to understand the novelty of simple noise . Wei Ying chattering while he worked on essays, and then Wei Ying’s chattering while he graded essays after they graduated together. The ambient background sounds of his husband pattering about the house, humming a song he heard on the radio.
Lan Zhan grew to love noise, to love everything about Wei Ying, and after many years, everything about their son. A-Yuan’s cries in the night, his painfully adorable and equally as loud hiccups after a meal, even his tantrums when he was forced to eat anything but mashed banana when he was going through that phase in his life.
Now?
Now, Lan Zhan is terrified of silence. Not for any legitimate, life threatening reason, but when he’s working from home and Wei Ying is out, silence means that A-Yuan is doing something out of eyesight of his father.
Usually he’s humming a song or making insistent noise on his toy instruments, or reading aloud, anything to let Lan Zhan know he’s not choking on something or causing trouble. He takes after Wei Ying in that way, always finding a way to banish the silence from their home.
After not hearing anything from his room for at least ten minutes, Lan Zhan readies himself to scrub marker off the wall or give his son another bath because surely, surely he’s gotten into something if he’s being this quiet.
Proactively grabbing wet-wipes from the kitchen with a sigh, he pads down the hallway into A-Yuan’s room.
Sitting at his small table designated for crafts and occasional tea time, the six year old has his brow furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out while he grasps something in his small hands. Lan Zhan takes a quick look around the room, no markers or stray jam on the walls, and lets out the breath he’d been holding.
Lan Zhan gently knocks on the door-frame, and A-Yuan’s head shoots up, dropping what was in his hands. His mouth forms a surprised ‘o’, eyes wide with picture perfect innocence.
“Baba!”
With a quick investigation, Lan Zhan spots the tangerine on the table. Unpeeled, but he can spot a patch where A-Yuan has managed to break through the tough exterior with his tiny, chubby fingers.
A-Yuan has a habit of going through phases with particular fruits; last week it was plums, this week he sobbed in the grocery store until they plopped an entire box of tangerines in the cart, despite not even being capable of pronouncing the word. They stopped fighting him on it a long time ago, deciding to count their blessings. At least he eats fruit, right?
“Do you need help, A-Yuan?” Lan Zhan offers.
Genuine but child-like anger flashes across the boy’s face, and Lan Zhan bites the inside of his cheek to stop a smile.
Picking up the tangerine with careful precision, A-Yuan pouts and goes back to work. “No thank you, Baba. I do this alone,” he says, tone far too serious for a toddler.
The smile surfaces, and Lan Zhan folds his legs under him as he settles at the table.
“Are you hungry? You can always ask me or Dada for a snack.”
A-Yuan tilts his head for a contemplative moment, and the action reminds him so much of Wei Ying he has to take a moment to compose himself. “Dada said you liked them, so I was trying to get one for you, but…”
He trails off with apprehension and disappointment, glaring down at the tangerine that refuses to surrender.
Lan Zhan swears he got used to the waves of affection that he often finds himself drowning in, but this one is just as overwhelming as the first. The fact that they have somehow managed to raise the sweetest child in the world still surprises him on the daily, and he smiles at his son.
“A-Yuan, thank you for thinking of me,” he starts, knowing the stubborn boy won't give up anytime soon. “Can I get it started for you? Then you can peel it, and we can eat it together.”
Taking a moment to consider, A-Yuan nods his head and hands over the tangerine.
Lan Zhan quickly uses his pointer finger to tear the top center part off, and places it back on the table. A-Yuan mumbles his thanks and begins to peel the rest of it, his small hands cradling the tangerine and placing the bits of orange peel in a small pile next to the first one.
It takes a while, and Lan Zhan watches him with the patience of an experienced father, smiling at A-Yuan when he looks up at him halfway through his work.
Eventually, A-Yuan finishes, and presents the peeled tangerine in cupped hands.
“For Baba!”
“Thank you very much, A-Yuan.” Lan Zhan says, picking it up and dividing it in half before handing one back to A-Yuan.
After they eat their snack, A-Yuan shows Lan Zhan his newest drawings, one of them a family portrait of a boy and two fathers. Next to them, there are two rabbits the size of a bookshelf.
“These are good, A-Yuan. Do you want to feed the rabbits a tangerine? They deserve a snack too.”
A-Yuan grins up at Lan Zhan, and he scoops his son into his arms, cherishing the laughter that rings through their home, filling the silence with warmth once again.
As a pair, they peel fruit together, A-Yuan humming a familiar tune to himself and kicking tiny legs under the table. Lan Zhan starts the peeling, and then hands them off to A-Yuan, who always says ‘thank you’ before turning his focus back to his work. They spend the rest of the afternoon like this, preparing fruit for the rabbits, feeding it to them, and then preparing fruit for Wei Ying, who should be home soon.
Eventually, as kids do, A-Yuan grows bored of the fruit and asks to watch cartoons, and Lan Zhan grants him permission until Wei Ying is home. He begins the process of dinner, setting the fruit aside with a small smile. A mixture of tangerines, washed and cut berries, and apple slices sit in a bowl, carefully prepared as a surprise for Wei Ying.
A-Yuan lets out a loud giggle at something on the television, and Lan Zhan feels the happiness weaving its way to his heart, adding itself to the pile of happy memories he has stored away. Shaking his head fondly, he continues to cook.
“DADA!”
Lan Zhan is helpless against the gravitational pull towards his husband, abandoning dinner and grabbing the fruit bowl as he steps into their living room. There, on the couch, Wei Ying has somehow managed to fall upside down with A-Yuan sitting on his chest and laughing unabashedly as he’s tickled. Their grins match, and their laughter creates a melody that Lan Zhan can only pray to mimic in his most beautiful songs. He loves them so much.
“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan calls, joining them on the couch. Wei Ying flips his legs over the back of the couch, holding A-Yuan so that he is upside down now, laughing possibly the loudest they’ve ever heard. His tiny arms flail and his legs kick at Wei Ying’s shoulders as he shakes with giggles.
His husband looks at him, and it’s been not even half a day, but Gods, he was missed. No matter how clear the skies are, how many lights Lan Zhan turns on, their home is always a little bit dimmer when he’s not home. He takes the light wherever he goes, and it’s one of the first reasons why Lan Zhan fell in love with him.
Wei Ying smiles, and tilts his chin up silently. Lan Zhan huffs, but kisses him all the same. He offers the bowl of fruit, and preens at the mix of shock and delight on Wei Ying’s face.
“For me?” he asks.
A-Yuan nods, and is finally placed upright on Wei Ying’s lap, leaning against his chest. There are tears at the corners of his eyes from how hard he was laughing, and Lan Zhan revels in that small detail.
“Our son wanted to surprise you, for working so hard,” Lan Zhan says, patting A-Yuans head, “and I helped. Missed you today.”
Wei Ying grabs a tangerine slice, kissing A-Yuan’s head and leaning into Lan Zhan’s shoulder before he eats. “Thank you guys! I love you both so so much, you have no idea.”
Lan Zhan presses a kiss to Wei Ying’s temple, pulling him closer with an arm around his waist.
“We can take a guess. Welcome home, love.”
Their home is cherished and precious, filled with noise and light, and Lan Zhan wouldn’t trade it for the world.