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They book the same flight to Beijing; seats right next to each other. It’s more convenient to buy the tickets together, Qiao Yifan tells An Wenyi. He tells himself.
Two years. That’s how long he and An Wenyi have roomed together. That’s how long he’s grown accustomed to seeing his bright and shining face in the morning (Okay, ‘bright’ and ‘shining’ aren’t exactly the right words to describe the look An Wenyi gives him at six in the morning, but Qiao Yifan is still going to miss it. He’s going to miss it a lot). Qiao Yifan knows it’s silly. He knows he shouldn’t feel this sad about parting ways for summer break. It wasn’t like An Wenyi was moving away forever, it was just a few weeks! Just a few weeks and they’d be back practicing at Team Happy like normal. But, when you’ve grown accustomed to seeing someone every day, even a few weeks apart feels like an eternity.
So Qiao Yifan lets himself do this one little thing, buying their tickets together. Lets himself have a few more hours to spend with him before they go their separate ways for the summer.
***
Qiao Yifan swears he booked himself the middle seat and An Wenyi the window seat, but when he gets their tickets, the seats are switched.
“I’m sorry, I thought-” Qiao Yifan starts to say, but An Wenyi just places a hand on his shoulder and smiles.
“You like the window seat, right?”
An Wenyi is right, Qiao Yifan does love the window seat, and when the team is traveling together he rarely lets himself take it. Normally, Qiao Yifan would delight in watching the picturesque clouds float by, but this flight he doesn’t even open the window shade. This flight he’s too busy chatting with the man sitting next to him.
Faces huddles together, they talk in hushed whispers for the duration of the flight. An Wenyi tells Qiao Yifan about his school, about the statistics class he’s trying to finish up over the summer. Qiao Yifan talks about his… parents and feels incredibly lame. It’s not that he doesn’t love and miss his parents, because he does, he really does! It’s just, An Wenyi sounds so cool when he talks about his campus and university classes. It’s something, Qiao Yifan thinks, that a high school dropout like him could never truly understand.
The captain comes over the intercom and announces they’re about to begin their descent and Qiao Yifan blinks in surprise. Hadn’t they just gotten on the flight? When An Wenyi asks him what the rates were like for a 30 minute flight to Beijing, they both laugh. Tears spring to Qiao Yifan’s eyes (from the laughter!) and he fights to hold them back.
They linger in their seats a moment after the plane lands, Qiao Yifan says it’s because he wants to let the passengers in a rush to catch their connecting flight get off first. He says this, but in his heart he knows it’s not the entire truth. Only when they’re the last passengers left in the back of the plane do they move out to the aisle. An Wenyi’s arm brushes the back of Qiao Yifan’s shirt as he reaches up to grab their carry-on bags from the overhead compartment and Qiao Yifan feels his heart rate double, his cheeks flushing an embarrassing shade of red.
When An Wenyi turns to hand him his bag, Qiao Yifan thinks his cheeks look a shade pinker than normal. An Wenyi coughs a bit awkwardly and Qiao Yifan realizes he’s staring and quickly diverts his gaze.
“Ugh,” An Wenyi groans, “I can feel the suffocating humidity from here.”
“Yeah, I’m already sweating!” Qiao Yifan agrees, breathing out a huge sigh of relief as An Wenyi turns to head up the aisle.
His secret wasn’t discovered.
***
Qiao Yifan’s chest squeezes when he sees his parents waving to him in the airport lobby. He’d missed them. He’d really missed them.
But he was also going to miss this.
“I should get going,” Qiao Yifan says softly, though his feet remain firmly planted next to An Wenyi’s side.
“Have a good break, Yifan. See you in a few weeks.” An Wenyi says, not making a move to leave either.
Qiao Yifan leans in to give An Wenyi a hug, and panics mid-way through. It’s not like they haven’t ever hugged before, but it’s never been in front of this many people and most certainly has never been in front of his parents. He tries to switch to a more casual fist-bump, but An Wenyi does not catch the transition and they end up in this awkward cross between a fist-bump and a hug. Qiao Yifan feels like an idiot.
***
An Wenyi doesn’t have anyone to meet him at the airport.
Qiao Yifan remembers him saying that a lot of his friends had already graduated, many of them having relocated to different cities for work. Qiao Yifan also remembers An Wenyi mentioning that he was from Beijing too, but they’d never actually talked about his family. Obviously none of them are here to meet him now, but Qiao Yifan isn’t sure what the implications behind that are. He knows An Wenyi isn’t staying with them; he has his own apartment near his school. And maybe that’s simply out of convenience so he doesn’t have to commute to campus. But maybe, An Wenyi isn’t on good terms with his family, maybe, unlike Qiao Yifan’s own parents, they weren’t the type to see esports as a valid career path.
Qiao Yifan wants to call out to him and ask if he wants a ride to his apartment, but the words remain firmly lodged in his throat. So instead, he just stands there watching as An Wenyi slowly disappears behind the airport doors.
A warm hand on Qiao Yifan’s shoulder shakes him out of his daze. “Your teammate?” His mother asks.
“Yes, my... teammate.” The word tastes a bit off in his mouth. It’s not that it’s wrong, An Wenyi is his teammate, but he’s also so much more than that. He’s his roommate, his friend, his...
If Qiao Yifan’s mother notices the solemn look on his face she doesn’t say anything. She just squeezes his shoulder and asks if he minds having curry for dinner. His father pats his other shoulder, silently rolling Yifan’s luggage beside them both.
***
Qiao Yifan’s parents are, of course, very proud of their son, but they also don’t seem to understand just how important it is for him to keep practicing even over his break. While it’s lovely to see them and chat with them about everything under the sun, Yifan knows if he doesn’t get some practice in soon, his skills are going to start deteriorating quickly. He can’t let that happen. He can’t become a burden to his team.
His father insists he help him fix his computer and Qiao Yifan doesn’t have the heart to tell him that playing computer games for a living doesn’t mean he actually knows anything about computers. Luckily, a simple restart is enough to fix the problem and his father beams up at him as if he were the family genius. Qiao Yifan has no idea what the problem was, but he doesn’t say anything, not wanting to disappoint his father.
But inside? Inside Qiao Yifan feels like a fraud.
In the evenings he helps his mother cook dinner, something that still feels second nature to him even after months of being away. The sound of knives chopping on cutting boards becomes background music to their actual conversation. They talk about life in Hangzhou, about the weird customers at the internet cafe, about the advertisement Yifan’s going to be in next month. Then one evening, they start talking about Yifan’s teammates and the conversation quickly shifts to one teammate in particular.
“Your teammate from the airport seems like a nice young man. Remind me what his name is?”
“An Wenyi.” Qiao Yifan feels the tips of his ears turn red as he remembers their awkward goodbye hug. There’s no way his parents didn’t see that, though they haven’t brought it up.
“An Wenyi,” his mother says slowly, as if trying to commit the name to memory. “Is An Wenyi in Beijing visiting family too?”
“He’s here to finish up a class.” Qiao Yifan vaguely answers. As for whether or not An Wenyi is also visiting family, he doesn’t know. He hopes he is, he hopes that everyone was just too busy to pick him up from the airport the other day, but Yifan’s gut tells him this likely isn’t the case.
“Finish up a class? Oh, so he’s working on his degree and playing esports professionally? That’s impressive!”
“Yup!” Qiao Yifan’s heart swells with pride. “He’s super smart, mom.”
“Hmm,” his mother frowns, “So is he here all alone then? I can’t imagine there are many other students diligent enough to take a course over the summer.”
Qiao Yifan is quiet for a moment, before finally answering with “An Wenyi’s family lives here, but he’s staying closer to his school.”
“Still, it must be hard. You should invite him for dinner sometime, Yifan. Your father and I would love to meet your... friend.”
Qiao Yifan’s heart stops the moment his mother says the word friend. It’s the way she says it, the way she carefully sets down her knife and just looks at him. He swallows hard, feeling himself reflexively tightening the grip on the spatula in his hands. She knows.
She knows.
It’s something he’d only recently come to terms with himself. Something that he hasn’t shared with anyone yet, especially not his parents. Qiao Yifan’s parents think the world of him, he knows they do, but it only makes him that much more worried about falling short of their expectations.
But the way his mother is looking at him now, her eyes still soft with their usual compassion, Qiao Yifan thinks that perhaps he isn’t going to become his parent’s greatest disappointment. That perhaps even if he tells them, his parents will still gaze at him as if he hung the moon.
He’s not really ready to talk about this now and his mother doesn’t push him to say anything more, she only ruffles his hair and asks him to tell his father it’s time for dinner. The knots he’s kept buried deep down start to unravel, not all the way, but some. And Qiao Yifan knows when he is ready to talk, his parents will be there waiting with open arms and a loving heart as they always have.
***
Qiao Yifan manages to steal away to his old room after dinner, plugging in the clunky desktop that’s been sitting on his desk untouched since New Years. After about 10 minutes, the computer finally boots up and he launches Glory.
Qiao Yifan lets out a hollow sigh as he watches One Inch Ash walk around all choppy and laggy like a bad quality stop motion animation film. His parent’s internet connection is slow. Too slow to play Glory properly. He should really buy another computer and a faster internet connection for when he’s here. It’s not like he can’t afford it. It just feels super indulgent for something he’s only going to use a few weeks out of the year.
Qiao Yifan opens up QQ in another window while he waits for his screen to load. Gao Yingjie is online and he almost complains to his friend about his parent’s internet connection, but decides against it. Gao Yingjie was just too nice. Qiao Yifan was almost certain Gao Yingjie would insist he come practice at the Tiny Herb training room, which was awkward for a variety of reasons. Tomorrow he’d go out and find an internet cafe or something. He could run some errands for his parents too while he was out.
A few of his teammates come online and Qiao Yifan politely says hello to them, but the one person he wants to talk to’s icon is still greyed out. He moves his cursor in little circles around the screen, finding himself staring at the icon as if that’s going to make An Wenyi come online any faster. He knows An Wenyi is busy with his schoolwork and probably won’t have much time to chat even if he were to come online. Still, Qiao Yifan can’t help but dream up what he might say. Maybe something like, Hi! How’s your class going? I miss you! -- well, maybe not I miss you, that was probably too much. Maybe something more like, Hi! How’s your class going? I miss playing Glory with you and everyone else on the team!
Qiao Yifan stares and stares. Stares and stares until he hears a familiar ding and a notification that Tiny Cold Hands has come online flashes across the screen.
Qiao Yifan opens the chat box, but closes it almost immediately. He can’t have An Wenyi thinking he was just sitting there waiting for him to come online! Qiao Yifan decides to wait a reasonable 5 minutes before messaging, but 30 seconds don’t even pass before An Wenyi messages him first.
Tiny Cold Hands: How are things at your parent’s place?
One Inch Ash: Great! It’s been so nice to see them. The internet connection is really slow though. I can hardly play Glory.
Tiny Cold Hands: You’re already practicing? You’re making the rest of us look bad Yifan. (^_~)
One Inch Ash : I only just got online and I don’t think I’m going to get much of anything done anyway. I’ll probably end up going to an internet cafe tomorrow.
Tiny Cold Hands: An internet cafe!? You know, after the whole winning a championship thing you’re kind of famous now, at least in the esports world. I’m not sure if visiting an internet cafe is the best idea.
One Inch Ash: Oh, right. I keep forgetting! (;^_^)
Tiny Cold Hands: The internet connection at my place is pretty good. If you want, you could come over and practice tomorrow. I don’t have class.
One Inch Ash: Really? That’s very kind of you to offer. (*^_^*)
One Inch Ash: Ah, but I couldn’t impose on your time like that!
Tiny Cold Hands: Don’t worry about it. I have a bunch of homework problems I need to do out of the textbook, so I’m not even going to be using the computer.
One Inch Ash: Okay, I can come over in the afternoon if it’s not too much trouble…
Tiny Cold Hands: Really Yifan, it’s no trouble at all. I’ll be home all day.
Tiny Cold Hands: My apartment is a ways away from your parent’s place though. Hope that’s okay.
One Inch Ash: It’s no problem! You live near your school, right? I have an errand to run for my mom over there anyway.
They chat for a few more minutes before An Wenyi has to log off. Qiao Yifan decides to log off too; it was pointless to try and get anything done with this ancient device. He flops back on his bed and squeezes his pillow to his chest with the stupidest smile plastered to his face. Tomorrow , his heart sings.
Tomorrow couldn’t get here soon enough.
***
Qiao Yifan does not actually have an errand to run for his mother, but the florist shop she likes is around the corner from An Wenyi’s place so he stops in and buys her some flowers. Nice ones because he could afford it now and she definitely deserved it. While he’s there, he decides to buy something for An Wenyi too. A little thank you gift for letting him come over and use his computer.
Only when he’s standing in front of An Wenyi’s door clutching the two vases does he think it might be a bit weird to bring his teammate flowers. What if An Wenyi didn’t even like flowers? But An Wenyi is already opening the door and it’s too late for Qiao Yifan to turn back now. So he just stands there, fumbling together some explanation about the buy one get one half off sale at the florist shop, and if An Wenyi didn’t want the other vase of flowers he didn’t have to take them and-
And An Wenyi is smiling, thanking him for thinking of him. An Wenyi takes both vases of flowers and sets them on his kitchen counter while Qiao Yifan slips his shoes off and sets them next to An Wenyi’s by the door.
The first thought in Qiao Yifan’s mind when he gets a good look around the apartment is how clean it is. It’s very clean, like, hotel room clean, which makes sense considering An Wenyi only comes to stay there a handful of times out of the year. Most of the time it was being rented out to students or travelers looking for a place to crash and apparently An Wenyi was turning quite the profit. Wei Chen had called it a sound business decision and Qiao Yifan had overheard him and An Wenyi discussing the ‘projected market value’ of the ‘property asset’ at length. Qiao Yifan grew up in Beijing, but he’s always either lived with his parents or in the Tiny Herb dorms. He doesn’t know much about housing prices in Beijing besides that it’s expensive.
An Wenyi’s apartment is also tiny (though Yifan prefers the term cozy). If they stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the room with their arms extended they could each place a finger on the wall. There’s a bed tucked away in the corner, a desk, and a small bookshelf loaded with all types of books. On the other side of the room there’s a kitchen area with a fridge, a hot plate, and one single square of counter space (currently being taken up by the two vases of flowers). This too looks spotless and Qiao Yifan wonders if An Wenyi has been eating out for all of his meals.
Qiao Yifan follows An Wenyi to the desk where the computer is plugged in and starts setting up his headset and keyboard. An Wenyi sets his textbook on the other side of the desk and pulls up a chair next to Yifan’s. Qiao Yifan looks around and realizes he’s taken over the only flat surface in An Wenyi’s tiny studio.
“I’m sorry to get in your way.” Qiao Yifan pushes his keyboard to the edge of the desk in order to give An Wenyi more space. He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t crowd up his teammate’s space just because he wants to get some practice in (because that’s the only reason he’s here. To practice.) He should have just sucked it up and bought a new computer and a faster internet connection for his parents.
“You’re not.” An Wenyi looks at him seriously. “Actually, it’s nice to have some company. It’s too quiet here.”
Qiao Yifan’s shoulders relax at An Wenyi’s words and he settles down in his chair.
“I keep expecting to hear Wei Chen grumbling or Baozi shouting down the hall.” An Wenyi continues.
“I know, same.” Qiao Yifan’s face cracks into a grin. “I really miss... everyone .”
***
The sit side-by-side at what’s really meant to be a one person desk. Qiao Yifan plays Glory while An Wenyi does some problems out of his book. An Wenyi’s knee accidentally bumps Qiao Yifan’s leg under the table, but he’s concentrating too hard on his homework to notice. Qiao Yifan doesn’t move his leg either, pretending to be too focused on the PK battle in front of him. But inside, his heart is pounding and he’s really only playing on autopilot at this point. He sneaks a peek at An Wenyi, stares a little too long as he watches the way An Wenyi pushes up his glasses every so often, brows furrowed as he works through a particularly difficult problem.
“You interested in statistics?”
Qiao Yifan freezes. Caught. He’s been caught!
“No, not really!” Qiao Yifan laughs nervously, ”That type of thing seems a little advanced for me.”
“A little advanced for you ?” The way An Wenyi emphasizes the word you makes it sound like he thinks Yifan is some type of genius. Which he’s not. Qiao Yifan thinks back to the way his father looked at him when he ‘fixed’ his computer and wonders if he somehow managed to trick An Wenyi into thinking he’s smart too.
“I haven’t even taken a math class since high school and that was years ago,” Qiao Yifan reminds him. “I’m not... I’m not smart like you, An Wenyi.”
An Wenyi carefully places his homework paper inside his book and closes it, turning his body towards Qiao Yifan.
“Yifan, you’re not serious, right? I mean, you’re easily one of the smartest players on our team.”
“Only because I have everyone supporting me!” Qiao Yifan quickly says.
“And the rest of us are only able to play well because we have you supporting us.” There’s not a hint of sarcasm in An Wenyi’s voice. He says it as if it were a well known fact, like one of the formulas in the back of his book.
Qiao Yifan looks down at his keyboard, feeling his face color a vibrant shade of red. He’s always preferred to think of himself as more of a side character. As a Ghostblade, assisting others was sort of the point of his class after all. But, even if he was ‘just’ a side character, that didn’t make him any less of a valuable team member. Of course, this is something Qiao Yifan already knows, but he still has trouble internalizing it sometimes.
“You really are talented Yifan, and I don’t just mean at playing Glory. For one, you’re incredibly perceptive. I’m always in awe of the way you seem to be able to get a read on a room almost instantly. Not everyone has the ability to do that, myself included.”
An Wenyi’s direct and straightforward nature is something Qiao Yifan has always appreciated about him. He’s never been one to sugarcoat his words or to try and coddle Qiao Yifan like others might. So Qiao Yifan knows An Wenyi means it when he says it, and the compliment holds a lot of weight coming from An Wenyi’s lips.
“Also, being smart isn’t just about textbooks and numbers. I mean, would you say Ye Xiu isn’t smart? I’m pretty sure he dropped out of school even younger than you did.”
“What? No, of course not!” Qiao Yifan sputters, softly adding, “But I’m nothing like Senior Ye Xiu.”
“That’s true. You’re much nicer than he is.” An Wenyi grins and Qiao Yifan can’t help but smile back.
“That being said, if you ever wanted to take statistics I don’t think you’d have any problems, but honestly, I don’t recommend it. It’s terrible.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.” Qiao Yifan laughs, they both do. The tips of An Wenyi’s fingers graze the back of Qiao Yifan’s hand as he sets it on the desk. His knee nudges Yifan’s leg again except this time his eyes aren’t focused on his textbook. Qiao Yifan isn’t sure if it’s intentional or not, but he thinks (he hopes) it might be. An Wenyi’s cheeks are definitely pink and Qiao Yifan’s own face feels hot, so hot he’s sure it’s far beyond pink. Qiao Yifan gently pushes his leg against An Wenyi’s, slowly creeping his hand closer so An Wenyi’s fingers lay over his thumb. Without missing a beat, An Wenyi curls his fingers around Qiao Yifan’s hand. Happiness percolates in Qiao Yifan’s chest and he feels like his heart might burst from joy.
An Wenyi looks at him, opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but no words come out. Qiao Yifan has something he wants to say too, but he doesn’t trust himself to speak coherently, not now, so he keeps his mouth shut, instead turning his hand over so An Wenyi’s palm is flush against his.
He feels An Wenyi interlace their fingers, hears him intake a sharp breath as if he were about to say something, and then...
That’s when Qiao Yifan’s phone alarm goes off; the signal it’s time for him to pack up and take his leave.
“I should go help my mom cook dinner.” Qiao Yifan says, turning off the alarm with his free hand. “Thank you for having me over.”
“It was nice, really nice to see you, Yifan.”
They sit in silence, their legs still pressed against each other, fingers still tangled together, neither one of them making the first move to separate.
Qiao Yifan isn’t sure what they’re doing, what this is, but he knows he doesn’t want to let go, and one look at An Wenyi’s face tells him he’s not ready for it to end either. Qiao Yifan glances over his shoulder at the empty kitchen behind him before saying, “You’re invited to come if you want. I’ll text my parents to double check, but I’m sure they won’t mind.”
The look An Wenyi gives him can only be described as glowing. His face is lit in soft pinkish hues like the morning sun, his smile breathtakingly brilliant.
“Well if you’re the one helping cook, I’m definitely not turning the invitation down.”
An Wenyi gently squeezes his hand, only letting go so he can help Qiao Yifan carry the vase of flowers out the door.