Work Text:
Wang Yibo took a deep exhale as he finally got the apartment door unlocked. He was still wearing his black mask and his cap, clothes sticking to his skin considering how hot today’s been. He let out another sigh—everything had felt suffocating. But once he stepped in, the familiar smell of home filling his nose, he knew he was in a better place. He knew he could breathe properly.
He looked around the apartment and was relieved nothing has changed much since he’s left. It was neater though, as though the couch pillow’s just been recently puffed up and a few of the things have been rearranged more properly on the coffee table. On the kitchen counter though, he noticed something out of place—something he didn’t usually find when he went home.
A little building blocks set. The panda one. It was just a small set he had bought in passing when he passed by a small toy store. The sight of it made him remember the plastic bag he was clutching hard on one hand. Carefully, he walked his way towards the kitchen and gently laid the bag on top of the counter so as not to make too much noise. With that, he let himself shrug every suffocating clothing off—the mask, the cap, his jacket—until he felt lighter, more relaxed.
He then took a moment to grab the little box to check its content. An amused huff escaped his lips at the sight of a half-made panda drowned out in other pieces. With that, he shook his head, taking the bag of chips inside the plastic, as well as the little boxed coffee.
“Starbucks would be packed, Yibo. Let’s just ask the runner to get some boxed ones along with the chips, yeah?”
Yibo had pouted at that but his manager merely chuckled at the sight, giving Yibo a sympathetic look.
“Wouldn’t you want to get there as soon as possible?”
And she was right. He couldn’t help the small smile that made its way on his lips at his manager’s tone. He couldn’t help the rush of relief at the realization that she got it, that she understood. He was lucky. He was more than lucky. But not everyone was as lucky as he was.
He bowed at his manager and the driver in thanks once he was dropped in front of his building.
Now he was in his kitchen, clutching a bag of chips in one hand, and boxed coffee in the other. He turned his head, eyes trailing towards the bedroom door, the ache in his chest gradually spreading.
gg: can u buy potato chips
Yibo had a long schedule that day. That text had him asking his manager if he could start filming his scenes during the allotted four-hour break. He was ready, anyway. Using up that break would mean he could leave earlier to buy said chips. Going all out would mean he could go home earlier.
His manager had been shocked by the sudden request but she nodded in understanding, walking up to the director to say he was ready.
The director had shrugged carelessly at that, mumbling a, “Well, if he’s ready.”
Filming ended two hours earlier that day.
Yibo walked straight to the car as soon as he changed off his costume.
Now, he was walking straight to the bedroom.
Very carefully, he pulled at the doorknob, a sharp click filling the silence before it was taken over by the light humming of the air-conditioning unit. It was cold. Really cold that Yibo couldn’t help the shiver that climbed his spine. He stepped in as quietly as he could, pushing the door gently behind him.
His eyes quickly lock on a lump on the bed, under the thick blue comforter. The ache in his chest grew stronger, but this time layered with new feelings. Protectiveness. Sympathy. Guilt.
The lump moved a bit. Yibo let himself watch for a moment before proceeding to approach it, a small smile now dancing on his lips.
He sat on the little space beside the lump, toeing off his shoes and socks, and dropping the chips and coffee on the side table. Once he was free of his footwear, he turned once more to the little lump and gave it the biggest hug he could give, then pulled it close to his chest.
When he heard the muffled groan, he pulled even harder, hugging even tighter. He did this until the groans turned into actual words, specifically: “Yibooo. What the fuuuck?”
It was only then that he released, the lump landing on the bed once more with a light “oomph!”
Slowly, the comforter slid off and soon enough, Yibo was faced with the softest, most beautiful man. This man’s hair was sticking everywhere, face seemingly more puffed up than usual due to sleep. His usually-bright eyes were locked on Yibo, squinting, red-rimmed. His pink lips were formed into a pout, a line between his brows fairly visible.
All this just made the young idol’s chest clench even more so—a number of emotions joining the already-mingling feelings. Love. Fondness. Love. Yearning. Worry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been here.
“Wang Yibo.”
Yibo smiled helplessly at the man, “Xiao Zhan.”
“Wang Yibo.”
They were lying on their sides, face to face, eyes locked on to each other. At that, Yibo answered again, “Xiao Zhan.”
“Wang Yibo.”
This time, it was shakier. Rougher. The crack in his voice very obvious. Yibo didn’t answer. Just watched as the man in front of him moved closer, burying his nose on his neck. He didn’t answer. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the man, tightly, hoping to all the gods he can transfer all sense of security to this one beautiful man.
“Wang Yibo.”
It was a whine this time. It was a very broken whine, a very wet whine, a very pained whine. Yibo felt a lump forming in his throat but he kept his jaw clenched. He took an inhale through his nose, exhaling softly so as to keep himself intact.
“Ge. I’m home.”
And this man. This beautiful man—Xiao Zhan.
Xiao Zhan, whose eyes were known to shine brightly whenever he smiled. Xiao Zhan, whose voice was often soft, often sweet, yet firm and controlled. Xiao Zhan, who’s known for his multiple talents, most currently his ability to wear any mask for any story given to him, and he’d wear it with his all—his everything.
Xiao Zhan, who’s known to tick every box when it comes to being the perfect man of all China, was now in Yibo’s arms, fists clenched tightly on his chest. And in a few seconds of silence, he broke.
Sobs started spilling his mouth, the sound of sniffs engulfed the room.
The lump on Yibo’s throat was starting to hurt and his vision was starting to get fucked up considering he couldn’t really force down the overwhelming feeling of everything at that moment.
His lover wasn’t saying anything—probably couldn’t say anything. Every time the younger man had felt his Zhan-ge’s mouth open, it would be drowned out by more uncontrollable sobs, and he can’t really blame him. He won’t push him to talk. Instead, he let himself whisper encouragements, whisper words of comfort. He let himself pull him even closer, one arm now snaked around the taller actor’s waist, hand settling on his lower back. The other hand settling on the man’s nape with his thumb rubbing soft circles behind his ears.
It’s okay.
I’m here.
You’re here.
We’re here.
I know you.
I know everything you’ve done.
I’ve seen you through your ups and downs.
I know you’ve worked hard and you’re still working hard.
Yibo let himself kiss his wonderful, wonderful lover’s forehead. He praised him as he did so, alternating from speaking and kissing and speaking and kissing. Because out of everyone in the world, all he knows is that Xiao Zhan deserved it. Deserved all the love he could give, as well as all the praises.
So amazing.
So handsome.
So beautiful.
So patient.
So humble.
And Yibo never said anything half-assed, he never let anything slip from his mouth without meaning it wholeheartedly. He believed every single phrase he let out, praying that his Zhan-ge would know just how much he meant it.
This continued on for minutes? Hours? Yibo wasn’t sure. Time really wasn’t a necessity at that moment. The both of them deserved to feel as though the world had stopped revolving. Especially Xiao Zhan. He deserved the bliss of ignorance from reality.
Soon enough, the sobs turned soft and the tight hold on him turned gentle.
“I’m still Xiao Zhan, aren’t I?”
The uncontrollable inhales and exhales gradually evened out after that, then it was quiet.
Wang Yibo awoke to bright round eyes staring at him. He had to blink the sleep away to properly process the situation. Once everything was settled, he let himself stare back, taking in his boyfriend’s appearance—eyes swollen, nose still red, a small smile plastered. Yibo couldn’t help the slight lift of his lips at the sight.
“You’re still Xiao Zhan. You’re still the same old Xiao Zhan, but better. More amazing. Stronger.”
He received a scoff in return but the scrunch in between his Zhan-ge’s brows showed just how much that affected him.
“And I love every bit of you.”
He would say more. He could say more. He could keep talking until his lungs were aching for air, and bring out every word he’s learned despite the lack of proper expected education until his head was spinning. He could talk about how many people adored him, about how many people would stay by him. But he chose not to.
By the look in Xiao Zhan’s glassy eyes and the crinkle at its sides, Yibo knew it was enough for now.
“Thank you, Bo-di.”
Relief flooded the younger’s system at this. He understood. And it was enough for now.