Work Text:
The man is there again, standing, staring out to sea. Lan Zhan tries not to watch him, but he is too beautiful. Lan Zhan only ever sees him from a distance, but the man is tall and willowy, and he caught Lan Zhan’s attention.
The side of Lan Zhan’s house overlooking the sea is all windows. His house is elevated enough that people on the beach would struggle to see in, but he can look out on the ocean and, when on the wide veranda, can look down on the sands. The beach is a public one, but difficult to get to. Isolated. Few people make the effort to find it and fewer still return if they do. Those who do often become regulars and Lan Zhan learns to recognise some of them.
None draws his attention like the beautiful man.
Many Sundays - but not every one, only when it’s a windy day, when it’s cloudy and the beach is empty - the beautiful man comes and stands, looking at the sea.
Lan Zhan doesn’t mean to, but he watches him; he watches him every time. The man usually arrives around midday and doesn’t do anything, just stands, occasionally sits. Sometimes he is there for half an hour, sometimes for hours. But only when it’s windy and the seas are choppy.
Lan Zhan starts to check the weather report and feels a buzz of anticipation when he sees a Sunday that will bring clouds and wind.
Lan Zhan wishes that he was the kind of person who could wander down one Sunday, casually start up a conversation. Maybe learn the man’s name. But there is a reason that Lan Zhan lives alone where he does. So he watches. He sees that the man stands when it has been damp, because when he sits it is on the bare sand. It frustrates Lan Zhan to watch the man needlessly standing or dusting himself off.
The next time a Sunday is windy and cloudy Lan Zhan goes down to the beach and leaves a blanket and note under a stone. It explains that the man can use the blanket to sit on.
When the man arrives that day, Lan Zhan watches from above. The man looks at the note and laughs, head thrown back. He is so arresting; Lan Zhan wants him to laugh more. Lan Zhan has apparently been quite obvious about his attention, as the man unerringly turns to Lan Zhan’s house and waves. Lan Zhan ducks back, his heart pounding.
The man sits on the blanket. When he leaves, he puts the blanket back under the rock.
Next time, when the forecast makes Lan Zhan feel hopeful, he puts the blanket back in place. In the note he tells the man to keep it. He also leaves a thermos of tea because the day is forecast to be chilly.
When he arrives, the man smiles and waves up at the house again. He sits on the blanket and drinks the tea. Lan Zhan feels a warm satisfaction. He sits at his piano, the man in his periphery, and plays, allowing the bright pleasure to flow out into the notes.
When he checks later, after the man has gone, the blanket and the empty thermos are both there. A soft swell of sadness rises in Lan Zhan until he sees the note hastily scrawled on the back of Lan Zhan’s own. The man writes that he doesn’t want to forget the blanket next time - can Lan Zhan look after it for him? The sadness rolls into a spreading warmth, suffusing every limb.
That night Lan Zhan starts to compose again.
Lan Zhan begins to leave both the blanket and some tea every time he thinks the man will be coming. Every time the man jots a note to say thank you. On one he finally signs his name; Wei Ying.
Whenever Wei Ying is there, sitting on Lan Zhan’s blanket and drinking Lan Zhan’s tea, Lan Zhan plays his piano as he watches. He plays music that he feels is appropriate, for the weather, for Wei Ying. Sometimes he plays old favourites from memory; sometimes it’s newer pieces, turning the pages of music as he plays; and sometimes it’s his own compositions, the pieces written while Wei Ying watches the waves.
Lan Zhan starts to make food for Wei Ying and leaves it with the blanket and the tea. He doesn’t know why Wei Ying comes to his breach, but apart from when he smiles and waves, Wei Ying always looks so melancholy. Lan Zhan wants to look after him. He wants to make him smile more.
One day Lan Zhan leaves some soup for the man in a large thermos. The wind is bitter, the clouds heavy overhead. It’s a soup that Lan Zhan uses to warm himself up and he makes it especially. When Wei Ying opens the thermos he stares at the soup, but he does not drink it. Instead he stands and walks up towards Lan Zhan’s house. Lan Zhan, watching from his piano stool, feels the sick beat of dread and anticipation in his chest.
Wei Ying doesn’t ask questions when Lan Zhan opens the door. He holds out the thermos and offers to share the soup. Wei Ying tells Lan Zhan that good soup should always be shared, should never be drunk alone. Lan Zhan shares the soup with him, trying desperately not to stare now that Wei Ying is right in front of him. Lan Zhan, as is his wont, says very little. Wei Ying, voice warm and rich, talks about the weather and the sea. About Lan Zhan’s house and the piano.
Wei Ying thanks him for the blanket, for the tea and the food. Lan Zhan turns away his thanks, but can’t explain that taking care of Wei Ying makes him feel things deep inside that he never has before. Wei Ying smiles: a gentle, wan thing.
When Wei Ying goes to leave, Lan Zhan invites him back for soup again next time. Wei Ying asks how Lan Zhan knows when Wei Ying will be there. Lan Zhan explains and Wei Ying nods, small smile back in place. Lan Zhan smiles back.
Next time, Wei Ying still goes down to the beach, but after 20 minutes he comes up to the house again. Lan Zhan has soup warming, ready. They talk, and Lan Zhan learns that Wei Ying’s sister died a year before, just before Lan Zhan moved into the house. In the past, whenever it had been a cloudy and rough Sunday, Wei Ying and his siblings always came to the small beach. They liked that it was quiet and they enjoyed the rough weather.
As he speaks, Lan Zhan watches a tear fall slowly down Wei Ying’s cheek. He doesn’t know what to say to help Wei Ying’s grief so he reaches out a hand and places it on Wei Ying’s arm. Wei Ying covers it with his own.
Wei Ying asks what music Lan Zhan plays and Lan Zhan plays him the Moonlight Sonata. Wei Ying cries silent tears while he listens. Lan Zhan’s heart breaks for him, anguish as ever finding its way into his hands as they play. After he finishes they stand out on the veranda and let the wind and smell of the sea wash over them. Lan Zhan looks at Wei Ying - he can’t not - and sees Wei Ying turn to look at him in return.
Lan Zhan kisses him. His hand slips up into hair gone wild from the wind and Wei Ying leans in, lips soft and mouth open. They kiss for so long that they both start to shiver, the wind having stolen all of their heat. Lan Zhan invites Wei Ying back inside, but Wei Ying says he has to go.
Wei Ying leaves and Lan Zhan plays until it goes dark.
The next windy, cloudy Sunday, Wei Ying is there as usual and, when he’s drunk his tea, he comes up to the house. They eat soup, Lan Zhan plays the piano, and then they kiss until they are both breathless and wild. Wei Ying leaves.
It becomes a routine, one that Lan Zhan desperately looks forward to. During the week, he writes music in a way he never has before. His hands fly across the keys, and every piece he writes is about Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying.
He checks the weather zealously, and always hopes for inclement weather on a Sunday. When the weather is forecast as fine and sunny Lan Zhan resents the other people who come to the beach in a way he never used to.
Lan Zhan has never been more thankful that he lives somewhere that cloudy and windy days are so common. Every day that he sees Wei Ying feels like something precious.
One Sunday, windy, cloudy, choppy, Lan Zhan leaves out the blanket, the food, the tea and the note, all as usual. Midday comes and goes with no Wei Ying. 1pm, 2pm, 3pm; no Wei Ying. Lan Zhan brings his belongings back inside and plays laments on the piano until his fingers cramp. He worries and curses himself for not having found another way to contact Wei Ying.
The week passes and he looks at the weather report. Sunday is due to be fine. He feels sick and can’t play.
Thursday is rainy and wild. The waves crash against the sand in a good facsimile of Lan Zhan’s feelings. He is finally able to play, but only the love song that he has written for Wei Ying. He plays it over and over, only stopping when he hears a knock at the door.
When he answers it, Wei Ying is at the door, soaked to the skin. Lan Zhan pulls him inside and Wei Ying clings to him. Lan Zhan lets him, arms tight around Wei Ying in return. Wei Ying’s drenched clothes make Lan Zhan’s own wet, but he doesn’t care. As Wei Ying sobs against him, Lan Zhan holds on and swears to himself that he will never let go.
Finally, Wei Ying pulls away slightly and tells Lan Zhan that they caught the man who murdered his sister. Lan Zhan hadn’t even known there was someone to blame; Wei Ying had never talked about it and Lan Zhan had never pushed.
Lan Zhan holds him until Wei Ying eventually notices how wet he is making Lan Zhan and pulls away. Lan Zhan hugs him close again. Then he offers Wei Ying his shower and dry clothes.
When Wei Ying comes back out, in Lan Zhan’s loose pyjama trousers and a t-shirt, his long hair clean and damp, he takes Lan Zhan’s breath away.
Lan Zhan offers to brush Wei Ying’s hair and Wei Ying accepts. Lan Zhan sits on the sofa and Wei Ying sits between his legs. He leans against Lan Zhan’s knee while Lan Zhan slowly detangles his hair. Wei Ying thanks Lan Zhan for letting him come - he says he didn’t know where else to go. Wei Ying had tried to see his brother on Sunday, to talk about the information that the police had provided, about how close they were, but his brother still would not speak to him. Wei Ying sighs.
Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying that he is always welcome. That Wei Ying can turn up day or night, rain or shine, and he will be welcome. Wei Ying turns to look at Lan Zhan, whole heart in his eyes. He asks Lan Zhan if he means it. Lan Zhan tells him that he does; Wei Ying can visit, he can stay. Wei Ying kisses him. They fall onto the sofa, together, limbs wrapped around each other.
Eventually Lan Zhan carries them to his bed where they kiss and moan and fuck like it’s their last day. Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying that he’s in love with him. Wei Ying laughs and tells Lan Zhan that he’s ridiculous; he can’t be, it’s too soon. Lan Zhan tells him that he’s been most of the way in love since he was watching him on the beach. Wei Ying cries and tells Lan Zhan that he’s in love with him too.
Wei Ying stays.
Lan Zhan plays every day and Wei Ying writes. They make a life together.
On sunny days they sit out on the veranda. Wei Ying drinks wine and they love to watch the families play.
On windy, cloudy days they walk on the beach, throwing stones into the water, holding hands and letting the wind whip away their melancholy.