Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The phone was fished out of his pocket the moment he got to the noodles section, a light tremble of his hands being masked by his normal clumsiness.

[ 2:48 PM ] Airplane: HE’S HERE AGAIN (╥﹏╥)

[ 2:51 PM ] Cucumber bro: lol sucks being you 

[ 2:51 PM ] Cucumber bro: What is he doing? The usual? 

[ 2:52 PM ] Airplane: Yeah, he’s just glaring at me 

[ 2:52 PM ] Airplane: Why does it look like I’m stalking my stalker???

[ 2:56 PM ] Cucumber bro: If that’s what you call stalking, you’re weaker than I thought 

[ 2:57 PM ] Airplane: Isn’t it considered stalking if you’re uncomfortable enough? 

[ 2:57 PM ] Cucumber bro: …

[ 2:58 PM ] Cucumber bro: Get off of your phone and do your grocery. You’re always reminding me why I avoid talking with you for too long 

[ 2:58 PM ] Airplane: RUDE (╥﹏╥)

[ 2:59 PM ] Cucumber bro: 凸^-^凸

Qinghua has a grocery stalker. 

It’s not exactly a stalker, but he’s pretty sure there is a guy glaring at him every single time he goes buy his groceries. The glare is so ugly he can almost feel holes popping in his forehead when it happens. 

It’s always the same thing: Qinghua arrives at the grocery shop, puts his favorite drinks in his cart, some candies he can’t resist and then goes to the noodles section. 

There is where it starts, the noodles section. 

While he is busy choosing the perfect noodles for his week (or maybe his month), the guy keeps glaring at him with the most judgmental look he has ever seen (in a stranger, at least. Cucumber bro is still the worst when it comes to glares.). 

It would be fine if it was something that only happened from time to time, it really would. But the guy seems to sense exactly when Qinghua will show up and he keeps judging him just the same. 

He knows he doesn’t buy a healthy amount of noodles but he’s an adult who lives on his own, he can eat whatever he wants to! He’s paying for his groceries, sir, let him be!!!

If he was a braver man, he would look that guy right in his eyes and would give him a piece of his mind. He’d make the other so uncomfortable he’d leave him alone for once. Qinghua isn’t a brave man, so he only moves his head really fast to check if the guy he can barely see is still popping holes in his face and yep, he is .

For all the discomfort he feels, he should at least get a proper look at whom he’s having to deal with, but the fact someone should do something doesn’t mean the person will, in fact, do this. 

With his fingers twitching to grab the most random variations of noodles possible just for him to flee from the grocery store as fast as possible, Qinghua lets a long sigh escape and almost push whatever is in front of him into his cart. 

He arrived at home so fast after the new-grocery-ritual he almost felt proud of his speed, suck it, bro, I’m not as slow or lazy as you told me, ha! . His proudness and his good mood died shortly after, when he needed to make his dinner and he finally took a look at what he bought, fire noodles are the WORST . 

…

Things keep going like that for some time. They kept going like that for the next three times Qinghua showed up at the grocery store and he was even considering shopping elsewhere, but his laziness was too much of a bother and he wouldn’t go farther away from his home only to buy noodles. 

His stories wouldn’t write themselves!!! And any lost second is a second less writing or being creative and it also means a second less being able to pay his bills, so thank you very much, he will keep going to the same place.

He is analyzing if it’s better to buy pork instant noodles or purple potato noodles when he finds out the guy doesn’t lack the same bravery Qinghua lacks. 

“Is it all you eat?” Someone he definitely doesn’t know asks him. He thinks he’ll finally be able to give that little shit a piece of his mind and, when he turns around ready to smack that ugly face with his palm, he finds out he wouldn’t be able to smack that walking piece of art even if he was being paid to do so. 

Qinghua lets out a squeak and covers his face with both noodles he was holding so carelessly before and now is using so gladly as a shield, like noodles packings could ever stop the stranger from talking with him.

After understanding the stranger wouldn’t just go away, Qinghua slowly lowers his hands and curiously glances up at the face in front of him. The gorgeous face in front of him. Honestly, how many problems can people avoid if they have this kind of face?!

“What?” He finally lets out like the dumb idiot he pretty much is. 

The guy looks at him like he is wondering if Qinghua’s brain functions are intact, which they are, and points at the packings on his hands like it is the most graphic thing he can master up to explain his question. 

“Is it the only thing you eat?”

Oh, he is only curious about his eating habits.

Wait.

He is curious about Qinghua’s eating habits. 

Was his stalker this stunning all the damn time?!?

“No?” He means to say that with certainty but doubt crawled into his mind. When was the last time I ate something else? I can’t tell.

“It’s all I see you buying.” 

What. The. Hell.

“Are you used to prying into other people groceries or what?”

The guy gives him such a dirty look Qinghua starts to wonder if that’s how people feel when they’re being bullied. The guy even makes the perfect bully image with his undercut and his ear full of piercings, and what a pretty ear it is…

“I-I mean… Why do you bother?” He squeaks again, averting the bully's eyes and almost smashing the packings between his fingers out of pure nervousness. 

“I don’t. I’m just curious.” 

“What are you curious about?” 

“Do you want to die or something like that?” 

“I- what?! ” Qinghua almost hisses, so incredulous of what he heard he is sure his mouth is gaping more than a fish’s would be able to. 

Instead of explaining it further, the guy simply touches the packing and points to the sodium chart there, like Qinghua would be completely unable to understand otherwise. 

“Look, it’s nothing like that!” He nearly whines, holding the packing so close to his heart this time it looks like he is protecting his son. Dear lord, when did I start seeing food as my children? “I don’t have a lot of time for cooking, so I buy whatever looks fast enough to be made in minutes and good enough to not make me vomit and that’s it! It’s not like I’m seeking for death or whatever you think.” 

“Mn.” The guy skeptically agrees, and there’s no reason for him to want so much to prove his point, but Qinghua wants to .

“It’s not even that bad! Have you ever tried it before?! You need to know before you judge, bro!” 

“I haven’t.” 

Qinghua is so surprised he yelps and grabs the guy’s wrist like he’s known him for ages, the dirty look he gets should be enough of a warning but he is so incredulous his only answer is to shake his head and say something similar to this won’t do .

“What?” The stranger, his stalker, asks almost as confused as Qinghua feels when he drags the taller man along with him to the cashier. 

“I’ll make you some! You can’t die without knowing what instant noodles taste like!”

“You want to drag me to your house ?!” The stranger looks so stupefied Qinghua wants to laugh.

And like the great dumb idiot he is when he isn’t thinking, Qinghua easily answers: “Of course!”

…

[ 12:05 PM ] Airplane: I brought him home 

[ 12:07 PM ] Cucumber bro: I told you already, I understand you loved that cat but that shoe box you call house isn’t a proper place to live with it. Give him back to the shelter.

[ 12:08 PM ] Airplane: Not the cat 

[ 12:08 PM ] Airplane: The stalker. I brought the stalker to my house 

(1) missed call from “Cucumber bro”

[ 12:09 PM ] Cucumber bro: Answer. The. Phone.

[ 12:10 PM ] Airplane: Nop, I don’t want to listen to your scolding 

[ 12:11 PM ] Cucumber bro: You must be fucking kidding me, Qinghua.

[ 12:11 PM ] Cucumber bro: Do you even know his name?! 

Qinghua takes a look at the water almost boiling, it’s almost time to put the noodles in. Good, and realizes he, in fact, doesn’t know the guy’s name. 

The bully, as he has been calling him (mentally, at least), looks greatly uncomfortable squeezed on his dinner chair. Ok, he is slightly bigger than any of his chairs, but it’s not like the guy didn’t have a choice too. He is pretty strong from where Qinghua can see and, if he didn’t want to come, he is sure he could’ve just shaken him away and that’s it. 

“Hey.” Qinghua calls him. “What’s your name?” 

The guy looks relieved for once. Of course, even a stalker would hate to go to a stranger's place. Especially when he doesn’t even know the stranger’s name, it seems .

“Mobei.” He pauses like he was wondering if he should say anything more. “Mobei Jun.” 

“Great, thank you!” Qinghua moves back to his phone and turns again before he could even answer his friend. It would be impolite to not introduce himself too (if the guy didn’t already know his name, of course). “I’m Qinghua! Shang Qinghua!”

With a thumbs up to end the introduction, he finally goes back to the chat he was having. 

[ 12:16 PM ] Airplane: Of course I know his name, what kind of person do you think I am?! 

Qinghua does not check the answer as fast as he usually does, he needs some time to put the noodles in the water and to open the sachets beforehand. He found in the bad way that being desperate to eat, a closed sachet and a burning hot food aren’t a good mix. 

[ 12:17 PM ] Cucumber bro: You just asked him, didn’t you? 

[ 12:24 PM ] Cucumber bro: Take care, you idiot. I won’t go to your funeral if you die because of your dumbness (∩_∩)

[ 12:25 PM ] Airplane: You even used an emoji! Thank you, bro!!! 

With an almost delighted smile, Qinghua divides the portion he made in two bowls and grabs the chopsticks and the spoons for him and his guest. He places the purple potato noodles right in front of Mobei Jun (his guests should have only the best!) and stares at him expectantly.

Mobei looks at the bowl like he was wondering if the food was really edible or if he would have to go straight to the hospital after trying it, but he still takes the risk. He eats a really tiny portion of the food and Qinghua is delighted to watch the exact moment it hits him the noodles aren’t bad , they’re just unhealthy! 

The guy is surprised, if the widening of his blue?! Blue eyes didn’t show enough of it already. He seems to be so speechless that it makes Qinghua’s mood lighten up immediately. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He teases with a large smile on his face while he reaches for his own bowl, slurping his own noodles excitedly. 

The bully looks almost soft when he agrees, letting a short “Mn” out. 

…

[ 6:37 PM ] Cucumber bro: Hey, are you free tomorrow? I saw you updated your story and I wanted to discuss about that awful and unnecessary sex scene you added to the chapter 

[ 6:40 PM ] Airplane: Hey, bro, I’d be delighted to sit beside you and listen to your complaints for hours but I can’t! I told Mobei he could come to my house tomorrow and I’m not sure I’d make it in time to meet you too 

[ 6:43 PM ] Cucumber bro: When did it become a thing? 

[ 6:43 PM ] Airplane: When did what become a thing?

[ 6:47 PM ] Cucumber bro: When did you and your “stalker” decide you should have lunch together with increasing frequency, I mean? It’s the third time this WEEK, Qinghua.

[ 6:47 PM ] Cucumber bro: And you've known him for what? Two months? 

[ 6:48 PM ] Airplane: It’s almost four already! 

[ 6:49 PM ] Cucumber bro: And you’re counting?

[ 6:51 PM ] Airplane: No, I just happened to know 

[ 6:52 PM ] Cucumber bro: Yeah sure 

[ 6:53 PM ] Airplane: I’m serious… 

[ 6:56 PM ] Cucumber bro: Of course you are. Just make sure you’re not the only one enjoying the company, ok? You’re always the one inviting him to this weird ritual you two started.

[ 6:57 PM ] Airplane: Ok ok. Thank you for your worry

[ 6:57 PM ] Cucumber bro: I’m not worried.

[ 6:58 PM ] Airplane: Yeah sure

…

Even though he tries to brush the conversation he had with Shen Yuan to the depths of his mind, Qinghua isn’t able to forget it at all. 

What he can’t get out of his mind, of course, is the question about Mobei Jun wanting or not to spend time with him. Have he even asked about it before? When did he give him the chance to deny it properly? 

His two inner Qinghuas were screaming at each other; the first one strongly believed Mobei Jun didn’t really want his company but he liked the food so he tagged along, meanwhile the second one argued with the other that Mobei Jun obviously (and hopefully) wouldn’t come just for the food, even because he didn’t even know most of the flavors Qinghua introduced him to and most of that food could be bought right from the grocery store he, too, usually goes to. 

His lack of verbose or his unexpected distraction is probably the reason he comes back to reality (and out of his own head) with Mobei Jun pinching his right cheek (a terrible habit he acquired shortly after the first time Qinghua spaced out. The reason it was terrible? It’s a simple thing: Qinghua found out he loves it when Mobei Jun as much as touches him, it doesn’t matter how or where.). 

“What?” Qinghua asks, confused, and pushes the hand away from his cheek. It doesn’t hurt but he still massages the skin there. 

“You’re spacing out a lot today.” It’s a statement. Mobei almost sounds worried. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, of course.” He doesn’t even convince his own self and the skeptical look on his guest face is probably the reason he starts to talk again. “I am really fine, but my friend asked me some things and I couldn’t help but worry about them. Are you really ok with having your lunch with me? I mean, I’m always the one who invites you and all and you don’t even like noodles that much-”

“Oh.” Mobei cuts his chattering with a strange look on his face that looked way too much like realization. What would he even had to realize?

“Oh?” Qinghua inquires, more confused than the other seems to be. 

“Come to my house tomorrow.” He starts. “I’ll make some noodles for you.”

“Really?! We can buy the spicy beef-”

“No. I’ll make some noodles for you.”

“By yourself?”

“By myself.”

Qinghua laughs and agrees easily. He remembers when his grandmother used to tell him he should win someone by their stomachs and wonders if someone ever told the same to Mobei Jun. If someone told him a similar thing before, would he ever try it? 

It doesn’t matter , he decides, what matters is he will be able to have his noodles, his happiness and his Mobei Jun around. And he’s glad. He’s glad he’ll have all of it, because it feels a lot like home.

And it’s been way too long since he felt he really belonged somewhere, if he can feel like he belongs to Mobei Jun’s side, who is he to complain?

Chapter Text

“It’s preferable to make everything on your own than to buy it pre-cooked anywhere”, the instructor says. Her balcony is clean so everyone in the class will have a clear view of how she is pulling the noodles.

Mobei Jun regrets every single choice he has ever made whenever he goes to these classes. The wonder of why the hell has he ever agreed with Luo Binghe never leaves his mind.

Shit, he doesn’t even like noodles.

Cooking classes? The only reason he tries to go as far as cooking his own meal is that he doesn’t trust anyone else to do so. 

He can’t even trust his family, how could he trust a random and unknown person to do it for him? What if they put some nasty stuff in his food?

Binghe, too, doesn’t have noble reasons to take these classes.

No, his main reason is pretty simple: his lover seems to be particularly pleased whenever he eats handmade food. And Binghe, as the whipped whore he is, made it his life goal to please his dear baobei whatever way he can.

“Is it tastier if made from scratch?”, Mobei asks out of curiosity. Although he isn’t used to eating any pre-cooked food, he has seen other people eat a fair amount of them and it always made him wonder if they’re worse in any other aspect than health.

Binghe gives him a funny look; Mobei isn’t a diligent or curious student. Questions are almost never made by him and, honestly, he doesn’t give a damn if his food is tasty or not. As long as they are edible and healthy, it’s alright.

“It is, indeed,” the instructor smiles at him. One of those you-finally-said-something kind of smile. “The taste is richer when made from the scratch! In addiction, it can also help us to distress. Repetitive movements sometimes make us calmer.”

She’s trying to be helpful, he knows.It doesn’t mean he appreciates her efforts for that he knows they’ll be fruitless.

Everywhere he goes, Mobei Jun is always known as the grumpy tall man. Sometimes he hears people calling him sexy and mysterious too, yet he can’t bring himself to care about those shallow compliments.

“Compliment or judge my brain, not my appearance,” Binghe whispers with a comic tone. It’s a waggish imitation of him, Mobei knowns. That’s exactly what he told Binghe a year or two after they met.

His friend tends to behave unnecessarily smug after receiving compliments about how hot he is or how heavenly sculpted his face seems to be. Wouldn’t it be more fulfilling if he heard about how ingenious he is or how talented he has proven himself to be more times than any of them could count?

For how smug Binghe already is, none of those thoughts are something that Mobei is willing to share. However, they’re his true thoughts. 

If they weren’t, he wouldn’t even bother being friends with that man. Mobei Jun isn’t the kind of person who would spend his time with useless people.

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbles, elbowing his friend on his ribs.

Binghe laughs, though he sounds pleasantly out of breath. The harsh elbowing served him right.

Mobei rolls his eyes and pushes some of his ingredients in his friend’s direction. They agreed to share those beforehand.

“C’mon, let’s begin. I won’t spend my entire day here.”

…

A strange murmur is the first thing to grab his attention in the grocery. “I don’t even know if it’s possible to make him fuck with an octopus. Tentacles are sexy stuff but damn… There are no octopus-like characters here. Will I have to come up with one? Why are my readers this weird? Goddamnit…"

The second is the amount of instant noodles in that guy’s cart. For what Mobei Jun has learnt while growing up, there’s no fucking way that that amount of instant food is healthy.

And for that, he lets a small sound of surprise get out of his lips. It’s twice shocking for him since he usually doesn’t express his feelings physically.

Mobei Jun never had any problem of conduct. He portrays himself perfectly, if not for his grumpy attitude. Yet, he can’t stop staring.

At first, he stares at the food. Then his eyes travel up to the face of the person who is buying those nasty things and he swears he could feel his heart making a loud thump .

The guy is the cutest person he has ever seen. And it’s ultraging for Mobei to be considering someone cute , but he can’t help it. His desire is to move forward and pinch those chubby cheeks.

That’s when he takes a hold of himself and is utterly glad for his self control. Wouldn’t it be weird to just touch someone he doesn’t even know? And touch on the cheeks! How scandalous! Mobei hasn’t even touched his family or Binghe on the cheeks for the reason that he already finds it too intimate. Imagine doing it with a stranger!

He growls and pinches the tip of his nose to let some of that frustration slip away. How weird and unbecoming of him it is to wish to interact with a random person out of the blue.

“I’m lucky,” he settles in a whisper, eying the vegetables he just put on his cart. “This store is way out of my way. The only reason I’m here is because my usual store isn’t open.”

He talks low, unsure if he would want to be heard by the guy that caught his attention.

His vegetables look shiny and tasty, he knows. They seem to be… truly healthy. Yet, he can’t stop his eyes from wandering back to the small man and his stupidly unhealthily filled cart and wonder if perhaps… Perhaps he should come back to find such shiny vegetables again.

For the sake of his health, of course.

…

Mobei Jun believes he is doomed after two months. Two months is the period of time it took him to find the pattern of when the small-cute-and-quite-squishy guy goes do his grocery.

Binghe says he sounds creepy, buying his stuff so far away from home just for the pleasure of seeing someone he found cute (and not even being able to see him all the times he went to the store). Like he is one to say.

Out of all the people Mobei knows, which admittedly aren’t a lot, Binghe is probably the one he is more similar to. Both of them are creepys who followed the people they found attractive around like it would make it possible for them to date them. Like the people they got (assumedly) obsessed with would wake up someday and think “yup, that guy is the love of my life”.

They’re both a fucking joke.

It’s a wonder how it turned out well for Binghe.

“I’m telling you, it won’t go anywhere if you keep just staring at him,” his friend points out as he deals with the dough on their table. “To be honest, I think there’s a chance the guy is creeped out already.”

“What do you mean?” Mobei tilts his head to the side, wonder crossing his features before he schools it back to his neutral self and forces his hands to move around that sticky thing.

Again, he questions his choice of agreeing with Binghe. He fucking hates cooking.

“Think with me, you’ve been going to the same store as he has for the past two months and you do nothing but choosing vegetables and staring at him!” Binghe rests one of his dirty hands on his own hip like he was Mobei Jun’s mother instead of his best friend and pointedly none of them say anything about it. “And you know you don’t look like you’re only staring, you must probably be looking at him with that glare of yours. Try to be more sympathetic!”

Mobei Jun blinks, looks down at his friend’s hands with a mournful look, using every strength in his body to stop him from cleaning the obvious flour stain on the other’s clothes and groans.

“Fine. What do you suggest?”

“Talk with him,” Binghe commands and goes back to moving his dough around like he never stopped in the first place.

…

The next time he shows up at the store, Mobei knows the guy will be there. He knows because it’s been some time since he was last spotted in the place and his food is probably running out already.

For what Mobei understood by the glimpses of inner chats he has been able to listen through the time he’s been spending there, he has gathered some informations of the cute man: he’s an author, he lives by himself, he probably only has one friend and said friend is very rude to him most of time and, the most important, he probably wants to have a very short life. 

It’s not a lot, obviously. They have never properly interacted with each other and there’s a limit of how much you can know about someone when you only bump on them (not so) occasionally while doing groceries.

Mobei wants to change that. He wants to know more about the man he has been unashamedly following around for the past months and he doesn’t really care if he needs to be, as Binghe said, more sympathetic for it to happen.

So he breathes in, slowly filling his lungs with air and letting it slip away with the same speed he let it in. Calmer and more focused this time, he musters all the courage he has been storing away in his mind and marches in the direction of that junk filled cart he knows so well.

Mobei frowns, bites his lips and forces his voice out as he almost towers over the tiny human in front of him. “Is it all you eat?”

…

Instant noodles taste like shit.

Its texture is disgusting, the way it slips into his mouth like it’s something alive makes his stomach twist in all the most uncomfortable ways and there’s an undeniable discomfort in his throat as he feels he could vomit anytime.

Mobei eats it all the same.

The taste didn’t surprise him. There’s nothing delicious or unique in that little package of death, just like there’s nothing too flashy or showy about Qinghua. Yet, he eats the whole thing like it was the best meal he has ever had, not because it’s good (it isn’t), but because the cute and squishy man did it for him and he’d be a fool to refuse. 

Mobei needs to be discreet whenever his eyes move to admire Qinghua instead of inspecting the ungodly thing on his plate. He needs to be discreet because he doesn’t want Qinghua to know, or to suspect, that he isn’t pleased with the flavor but with the satisfied expression that his host wears. 

It’s like that tiny man is unable to hide his feelings and that’s as endearing as it’s entertaining and Mobei Jun simply can’t tear his eyes off him.

“It could be a thing,” Qinghua mumbles after speaking for more than a dozen of minutes, fingers dancing around his empty place in a satisfied yet nervous motion.

“What exactly?”

“Meeting up like this,” he gestures between the two of them, pointing to Mobei and then to himself. Mobei Jun’s eyes follow his movement, body tensing as he once again feels the urge to touch. Is it weird of him to wish to hold Qinghua’s hand? To, perhaps, intertwine their fingers for a while?

“It could,” Mobei agrees easily, though his voice sounds inexpressive as ever.

Worry flashes on his mind for a millisecond. Will he eventually be misunderstood by his lack of expressiveness? Will Qinghua, too, feel like Mobei Jun is as cold as ice? As apathetic as a rock?

His worry dies alongside Qinghua’s large smile, his moon shaped eyes shining bright as he shakes his head in excitement like a child would.

“So it’ll be our thing now, pass me your number!”

Mobei barely hesitates before handing him his cell phone and watching with unconcealed amusement as Qinghua’s number is added to his rather short contact list.

“It’s gonna be so fun,” Qinghua beams. “I’ll show you all my favorites!”

Mobei Jun frowns a bit at this, looking down at his empty plate and reminding himself to keep the amount of sodium in his blood in check. He has the feeling he’ll need to do it from now on.

He looks up at the beaming face again, frown smoothing slowly until it completely disappears, and nods.

“Alright.”

…

The moment he steps out of Qinghua’s apartment, he grabs his phone and does something he never expected to do: he calls his cooking instructor.

“Hey?” Her confused voice echoes in his ears like a thunder, much louder than she is really speaking. His stomach twists in shame, he is bad interacting with people he doesn’t know, goddammit. “Is everything alright?”

Mobei Jun suppresses a groan and stares at the apartment’s door again, his mind already made up.

“Could you teach me how to make purple potato noodles?”

He hears a gasp, the sound of something hitting the floor and then hushed voices in the background.

“Oh my god, of course!” The instructor sounds awfully excited for someone who just got a random call but he doesn’t say anything about it. The woman has been treating him like a child since he started the classes along with Binghe and none of them found it worth their words. “I’ll send you my schedule and you can see where you’d fit best, see you soon!”

…

After four or five attempts, Mobei is sure he mastered the art of making purple potato noodles.

He is sure he mastered it because his instructor looked awed and truly impressed after trying it and he is, quite proudly, sure they taste way better than the instant ones.

Mobei Jun can’t wait to show his (wonderful and well done) recipe to Qinghua but he has no idea how he could invite him over. Should he ask him out already? Should he just say “hey, let me cook you something”? Or should he just text him something cool like “wanna come over?” out of the blue?!

So he changes his tactics. He asks, sounding as disinterested as ever, which are Qinghua’s favorite noodle flavors and write them down one by one.

He’ll learn every single one and make all of them taste better than the ones Qinghua likes.

Mobei Jun doesn’t think it’s a hard task, to be honest.

Instant noodles have the strange power of tasting the same no matter what.

…

Mobei Jun feels like he failed Qinghua miserably.

He didn’t notice how his constant visits were seen by his (admittedly now) crush. 

He didn’t notice he shouldn’t be the one just waiting for invitations and never the one to make them and that’s why he acted impulsively and invited the other over.

It’s like he shot himself in the foot, honestly. Mobei Jun almost didn’t have the time to buy all the ingredients he’d need and, when he arrived home, he realized he still had to tidy the house up. Make sure every little thing is in its right place.

It takes hours before he finishes everything and, when he does, the last thing he wants to think about is Qinghua coming to his house. What he really wants to do is take a cold bath, lay down on his bed and fucking die there. If from embarrassment or fatigue, he doesn’t know.

When Mobei Jun wakes up, his whole body aches from the strain of cleaning his house minutiously. He distractedly considers the possibility of cancelling their plans or just coming up with an excuse, but, frankly, he didn’t spend his money and his time on it to chicken out in the last minute, so he forces his muscles to work again and gets up to start the preparations.

The dough is made way before Qinghua arrives. Mobei Jun spends so much time kneading it to be certain it will be chewy enough that his muscles (that were already sore before) hurt even worse now.

Qinghua keeps sending him worried glances whenever he makes a face and he pouts slightly for his inability of keeping his expression neutral like he always does. 

Goddammit, Mobei Jun is known for his micro-expressions, not for his excessive expressiveness.

“Are you really alright?” Qinghua finally asks, his chin propped up by his hands and his eyes following him around. Watching his actions, analyzing each one of them.

Mobei wants to lie and say he is fine, say everything is alright and normal.

He knows Qinghua would notice it way too fast if he did, so he simply doesn’t.

“I’m dealing with some body aches right now,” Mobei admits sheepishly. Vulnerability isn’t his fort.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Qinghua questions, his voice even softer than it usually is. Mobei Jun doesn’t look at him, doesn’t register the look in his eyes because it would make him even weaker and he doesn’t need it now.

“I…” He trails off, eyes trained down on his pan. It’s hard to remind himself how valued honesty is in those situations. “I didn’t want you to worry, I wanted to cook for you.”

He can feel how warm Qinghua is when he gets closer to him, their body temperatures too different despite being in the same room for a long time.

Still as a wall, Mobei-jun watches, entranced, as smaller hands turn off the fire under the pan. He moves as those hands guide him to turn around and face his visitor. Mobei avoids his eyes in shame.

Is it normal to appear to be weak only in front of the person you least wish to appear so?

Facing each other as they are, Mobei can’t ignore the almost nonexistent distance between their bodies. It’s something he’s wanted, something he still wants, but it is also something he doesn’t feel like deserving while he is being such a shitty host and it takes him some effort to hold back the whimper bubbling up in his throat.

He is being too weak already.

Mobei-jun is dragged out of his mind as warmth envelops his face through the contact of Qinghua’s hand with it. They’re kind and they oblige him to pull his attention back to his crush’s face.

It’s like a punch in his guts, the tenderness in Qinghua’s almond eyes. A punch he’d been wishing to take for a long time now, but a punch nonetheless.

The tips of those fingers gently caress his cheekbones, skin sliding against his own with such a loving touch that he couldn’t help but lean in the contact.

“You foolish man,” Qinghua giggles, lips curling up in a kind smile. “Would you really endure the pain only to feed me something I like?”

Mobei Jun doesn’t need to think twice about it, he nods. “Of course.”

“T-that’s,” Qinghua stutters but doesn’t take his attention away from him, he just blinks like closing his eyes for milliseconds would brush all his flush away. “Why would you do that?”

Mobei Jun stares at him with unguarded disbelief. Isn’t he quite obvious already?

He waits for Qinghua to understand on his own, all his engineers seeming to work inside the mind of that tiny man as his eyes lose their focus. Only for him to look even more confused, if that’s possible.

Mobei Jun sighs, fond exasperation creeping up his chest. “I like you,” he ends up stating quietly.

“Oh?” Qinghua blinks, His face scrunches up in surprise before it morphs down to a look of acceptance. “I like you too, you’re an awesome friend.”

Mobei Jun groans and glares at him, that man is truly impossible to bear! “Not as a friend.” The hurt flashing before his eyes reminds him he shouldn’t say anything too vague, so he hurries to correct. “Not only as a friend!”

Qinghua frowns, the look unusual enough for Mobei to feel uncomfortable seeing it, and stares at him like he is growing a second head.

To avoid more misunderstandings, Mobei Jun pushes himself over his own limits and moves his hands up to press Qinghua’s hands on his cheeks. He knows he is flushing bright red now, he can feel it in the way his whole face burns like it’s on fire, yet the only thing he does is taking a deep breath and settling in the new touch.

“I like you,” Mobei repeats. He doesn’t avoid those almond eyes anymore, glaring at them to see if the other would dare to question his words. “I like you romantically.”

Qinghua stops breathing altogether, eyes widening too fast and mouth dropping down like the situation is so absurdly unpredictable he couldn’t stop his ridiculous reaction to it.

There are questions in his face, doubts and more of those unpleasant stuff he was used to dealing with. Mobei Jun doesn’t want him to deal with any of them right now, so he leans in and brushes his mouth on Qinghua’s mouth in a very chaste kiss.

“You-,” Qinghua stutters once more. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

And that’s the last thing he could say before his lips are taken again, this time much more excitedly than before.

Mobei Jun hums happily into the touch, uncaring about how new it all is. If that’s how all his new experiences with Qinghua will feel like, he thinks he can get used to it.

Qinghua’s tongue touches his lips, wet and experimenting and he rapidly opens his mouth to welcome it in. Oh yes, Mobei Jun definitely can get used to it.