Work Text:
1 — rain
It was the first time Siyang had caught Zhuo Zhi crying.
Drizzling lightly, the sounds of their shoes trodding on the drenched leaves occasionally intermingled with their conversation. They had been talking about Nationals, which naturally led to Hai Guang, Ji Jingwu, graduating, and then out of the blue, Zhuo Zhi’s light wisecracks all but halted.
As with everything that happened with the boy, it was only for a brief moment that Siyang had been able to glimpse and discern his tears from the raindrops streaking down his face before he hurriedly turned and smiled self-deprecatingly at the sky. Caught, but unwilling to address what was wrong.
A silence settled between them. It wasn’t comfortable.
Eventually, they reached the traffic light where they had to part ways. Siyang cleared his throat.
“Are you alright?”
The teasing lift of Zhuo Zhi’s eyebrows and small upturn of his lips that hinted at a predictable answer came as no surprise.
“Sure. You?” Brown eyes sought his out, and the distinct feeling Siyang was all too familiar with —of his concern being dismissed— rose to the surface.
Zhuo Zhi ought to come with an instruction manual.
Perhaps it had just been a long enough day.
Siyang shifted his weight onto his right foot, lifting and switching the strap of his tennis bag from the shoulder of his weaker arm to his non-injured one.
Zhuo Zhi watched him closely. Siyang never knew what it was coiling behind that stormy, yet somehow perfectly masked expression.
A part of him thought it was disappointment. Disappointment and maybe betrayal that his— Yu Qing’s captain had gone ahead, pushed his limits beyond repair for what may have been construed as pride though everything had been for the team, and flown to a whole different country when he had left an unspoken promise to be there just as Zhuo Zhi had sworn to start growing as a team player and not just as a prodigy.
Another part of him thought there was something else behind those eyes.
Though he rarely had time to properly consider this thought, Siyang knew better than to be ignorant of the warmth Zhuo Zhi had always shown him. When they were alone, there was no trace of the slight derision that often leaked through his unflappable, easygoing attitude when he was impatient during training much to the obliviousness of the usually bickering team. When Zhuo Zhi was with Siyang, Siyang was aware of the way his eyes softened considerably, of how he dropped his all-knowing look like the smartest child in class falling silent with an inquisitive wonder in the presence of a new substitute teacher.
It wasn’t flattering, exactly. Siyang wasn’t egotistical. It was more of a reassurance. A constant. Siyang didn’t act on it. He didn’t need to. He hadn’t needed to.
The traffic light blinked green. Neither of them moved.
“What are you thinking?”
“Zhuo Zhi.”
“You called?” Zhuo Zhi grinned. Siyang shouldn't have started with any preamble. It was hard to get Zhuo Zhi serious otherwise.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Siyang paused. “I only heard good things from Ah-Yan when I was in Germany. He says you’ve mastered your fourth counter. I’m sure it’s brilliant.”
He was rambling. Siyang never rambled. He shielded his eyes from the sun. It would have been easier if Siyang hadn't meant what he’d said, if his words had been empty praise. Yet, they were anything but, and he regretted how they had left his mouth like they were. Zhuo Zhi deserved more.
“Hm.” Zhuo Zhi nodded, pursing his lips. They were still curving upwards. “Did you see it?”
“I don't think Ah-Yan had it on video.”
“I meant in training.”
Siyang lifted his head. Could he have missed it? That was not possible. Zhuo Zhi setting up a counter would have drawn a crowd. Unless Zhuo Zhi had done it without drawing attention to himself, expecting Siyang to be watching him, crowd or no crowd. Was that what he was supposed to have done? Zhuo Zhi sensed his hesitation, and when Siyang found it in him to look him in the face, the boy’s eyes were knowing.
“I suppose it can’t be that brilliant then, can it?” He grinded the toe of his shoe against the asphalt and rolled his ankle.
“Show me tomorrow.”
“It’s the weekend.”
“Meet me at twelve.”
Zhuo Zhi grinned, but Siyang saw that the tension in his eyes never quite dissipated. He wanted to press his thumb on the crease at his brow. Erase it. He refrained.
The light blinked green for the third time.
“We should go.”
“Mm.”
Neither of them made to move. Zhuo Zhi glanced at him. Smiled.
Siyang tried again. “Zhuo Zhi.”
Funny how he couldn’t find the words to say what it was he’d been painstakingly planning ever since he’d been up in the clouds, his flight trembling with the slightest turbulence.
Zhuo Zhi ran a hand through his hair. Looked at Siyang properly. In the sunlight, Siyang thought he was beautiful.
“Siyang.” He said steadily. “I’m fine. You have nothing to be sorry for. There’s no point dwelling on the past, is there? Nationals are coming soon, and the team needs you. You’re back, and that’s all that matters.”
Siyang wondered if he had recited that beforehand.
“I was foolish.”
“You over-exerted yourself to be a pillar for the team. Anyone with half your passion would have done the same.” Zhuo Zhi scuffed his shoe. Dropped his gaze. When he looked back up, Siyang only saw steel in his eyes, the barest traces of bitterness around his irises.
“Yet you still think I’m foolish.”
“Does it matter what I think?” Zhuo Zhi let out a humourless laugh. “What’s done is done.”
“I know I can never make it up to you—”
“Why just me?” Zhuo Zhi snapped his gaze back to Siyang, lips a pursed crescent. “Why not the entire team?”
He was testing him, wasn’t he?
“Because I feel I made you a promise.”
Zhuo Zhi cocked his head. “Mm? I don’t think we ever reached that consensus.”
Siyang shut his eyes briefly. “Don’t be difficult.”
When he opened his eyes again, Zhuo Zhi was staring hard at him, the slightest clench to his jaw. Siyang knew instantly that he had said the wrong thing. He fought the urge to clench his fist. This seemed to be happening a lot lately, and Siyang didn’t have the slightest clue how to stop the train wreck that was his thoughts when it came down to it.
“I apologize—”
“I think we’ve established that already.”
Siyang hated that he was one of the few who could get under Zhuo Zhi’s skin like this.
This time, when the traffic light turned green, Zhuo Zhi stepped away, tennis gear slung resolutely over his shoulder. “Go home, captain. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Siyang watched him go.
2 — gooseflesh
Turns out, the one time Siyang switched his phone off for a night of uninterrupted rest was the night the team decided to spam the tennis club group chat and make plans to eat lunch at Xing Long’s restaurant.
Remembering his arranged meeting with Zhuo Zhi, Siyang had intended to excuse himself. Yet, when he checked his phone during lunch after his English class to send some message about having to settle first-year training logistics with Coach Qi, he saw that Zhuo Zhi had sent a thumbs-up emoji in response to Qiao Chen’s string of pleas to split the cost for a plate of fried chicken.
Siyang knew what that meant. The emoji was an exclusive message to him. It meant that a), the meeting was never agreed to in the first place and b), whatever was between them was far from being resolved.
He deleted his message. He was going to eat goose.
Besides, he didn’t just want Zhuo Zhi to know that he was making an effort. A captain ought to bond with his teammates. After all, he had just come back from Germany. He missed spending time with everyone.
He was going to eat goose, and he was going to enjoy it.
————
“Captain, are you alright?”
Siyang startled a little, looking up from his rice bowl. Eight pairs of eyes stared at him. “Yes?”
“We were asking you what you thought of Ji Jingwu’s new teammate.” Dayong supplied helpfully.
“Oh.” Siyang cleared his thoughts away. This was tennis. He could focus on tennis. “It is regretful Hua Chang Hong had to give up his position.”
Across the table, a pair of eyes were boring into him, glimmering each time Siyang was compelled to look. For the better half of the hour, they had been playing some sort of game, all obviously orchestrated by Zhuo Zhi. He would stare at Siyang for a while, making him self-conscious even about eating, before looking away with a faint grin whenever Siyang made eye contact.
Siyang had no idea what he was trying to achieve.
“Yeah, yeah. But what do you think of the new guy?” Jiale popped three boiled peanuts into his mouth in quick succession before choking. Dayong thumped him on the back.
Siyang put his chopsticks down. “What I think?”
Xing Long and Ah Yan exchanged a look.
“Captain, is there something you need to be doing?” Xing Long asked tactfully. “Your mind seems preoccupied.”
“I apologize.” He watched Zhuo Zhi take the teapot closest to him, pour liquid into a cup and down it, only to tear his eyes away as a droplet of chrysanthemum tea trickled down Zhuo Zhi’s throat. Siyang picked up his chopsticks and pierced a cucumber slice. “Everything is perfectly fine.”
Both Xing Long and Ah Yan looked unconvinced. Luxia let out a small burp. Whooping, Qiao Chen shot him a thumbs-up.
“Our captain is too honourable to dish dirt on our opponents if that was what you were looking for, Jiale.” Zhuo Zhi finally put his cup down, nonchalantly raising a brow at Siyang. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Jiale pouted slightly. “Oh well. Someone has to play the good guy.”
“Someone does have to.” Zhuo Zhi nodded sagely.
Siyang spoke up. He was the captain after all. When the chance came for values to be instilled, he would take it at the risk of sounding preachy. “It’s basic respect.”
“Some might call it unnecessary.”
Siyang could only blink. Zhuo Zhi toyed with his chopsticks, as through he had merely pointed out a passing airplane in the sky and not just been blatantly rude to Siyang for the first time in years.
This time, it was impossible for the team to not finally catch on to the tension in the room. Ah Yan and Xing Long politely carried on eating while Jiale’s mouth hung open, making to say something before Dayong cut him off with a look. To his left, Luxia hunched down in his seat, the bill of his cap shielding his face. Even Baiyang and Qiao Chen traded poker faces before tucking into their food with excessive interest.
Siyang didn’t like what Zhuo Zhi was insinuating.
That he was some kind of martyr? Some kind of saint? Siyang was far from it, and if Zhuo Zhi only knew how selfish Siyang could be when he wanted to be, he would stop. A part of him suddenly yearned to able to expose this side of himself, anything for Zhuo Zhi to see him as an equal, as someone whom he could dish dirt with, as someone different. Anything to bridge the ridiculous distance they had constructed between them for reasons he had already apologised for.
The emotion swept through him, hairs on his arm rising as his skin prickled. Sure enough, Zhuo Zhi’s eyes were on him when he looked up. Could he see everything that had gone on inside his mind? Siyang diverted his gaze downward. It felt like he could.
“Eh, let’s change the topic. Even Captain must get tired of talking about tennis all the time.” Jiale exclaimed.
“Some might beg to differ.” Zhuo Zhi muttered.
Siyang resisted the urge to request that they bring this matter outside. Zhuo Zhi was obviously making this personal, but Siyang had no wish for the team to burden themselves with the knowledge that they were on pretentiously good terms and make the situation even more awkward.
Instead, he said: “The new player is good. I have read his reports and watched some of his practice videos. He is highly proficient in strategy and altering the game to suit the pace of his playing. While he lacks Hua Chang Hong’s strength, I wouldn’t dismiss him as one of the final players in Jingwu’s lineup.”
The team nodded seriously as they considered his words, likely glad that they had something to focus on other than Zhuo Zhi’s weird animosity. Oddly, Zhuo Zhi’s careless expression only stiffened when he mentioned Jingwu’s name. Now, he was leaning back and flicking through the photos on his camera randomly.
“So it’s Jingwu now, huh?” He muttered.
Siyang frowned.
“Captain! Who would you pick amongst us to play against him?” Jiale piped up, eager to keep the conversation going.
“It’s obviously Xing Long or Ah Yan.” Qiao Chen answered through a mouthful of food.
Baiyang scoffed. “Why, counting yourself out of the line-up? You must finally be acknowledging the limits to your abilities.”
“Hey!” Grabbing his fork with soy noodles still twined around it, Qiao Chen began to flick sauce everywhere as he waved it threateningly at his nemesis. Beside him, Dayong surreptitiously hung a napkin around the collar of his white shirt.
Once again, the table descended into chaos, and Siyang was left to drift into his own thoughts.
Sooner or later, gooseflesh would rise yet again across his skin and the back of his neck.
He refused to look up.
3 — fishing
Two weeks passed in a blur after the incident at Xing Long’s restaurant. For the most part, Siyang thought that they were back to normal. Zhuo Zhi had begun to wait for him again after training when he had to stay back to discuss matters with Coach Na, and during the classes they shared, the note-passing with hangman puzzles scribbled on lined paper margins started up again.
But outside of these brief interactions, Zhuo Zhi could become almost glacial at times, his trademark easy smile not quite reaching his eyes whenever he passed Siyang in the hallways outside of training or met him in the same queue for food during recess.
It was equal parts confusing and frustrating.
Slowly but surely, they were drifting apart. This much Siyang understood.
“Siyang, Zhuo Zhi isn’t here today.” Dayong jogged up to him one Friday, lightly panting from having just done a dynamic exercise with Jiale. “Did he say where he went? Coac1h Qi is asking.”
“Was he not present for class this morning?”
Dayong squinted through the sun. “Jiale said he was present for Mathematics and Human Sciences, but disappeared right before training started. He thought Zhuo Zhi went to practice early but…” He trailed off, chuckling uneasily. Siyang cast his gaze to the court at the extreme end where a few balls were scattered: Zhuo Zhi’s favourite court where he could be away from “prying eyes”.
“He’s not here, is he?” Dayong muttered, curious and distracted in equal measure by the juniors who had taken it upon themselves to bet who could fire the most tennis balls through the holes of the chain-link fence.
“I’ll go contact him. You carry on with the rest of training. I’ll leave the first years to you.”
Dayong nodded wordlessly, breaking into a light sprint to call the juniors back from their water break.
The club office was empty, the jar filled with the sugared cookies Zhuo Zhi had a penchant for sealed tightly and further indicating Zhuo Zhi’s absence from the vicinity. Absently, Siyang couldn’t help but liken Zhuo Zhi to a cat with all his elusiveness and silent skulking. His hand reached for the mobile in his pocket before stilling. What good would a text that was bound to be unread do?
There weren’t a lot of options Zhuo Zhi would choose to go to. Siyang knew that when Zhuo Zhi found a favourite spot, it would become his designated haunt, the only companion welcome being his camera.
(And occasionally, Siyang).
But it had been a while since they had spent time together in those spots.
He headed for the park.
It was a twenty minute walk. By the time Siyang reached, his thoughts drifting like the clouds parting to make way for the hazy, bronze rays of the sun, it was with a smallest tide of weariness and the faintest crest of relief when he spotted a familiar figure lying on the grassy bank by the lake, bulky tennis bag propping up his head.
Zhuo Zhi kept his eyes closed as Siyang approached.
“You came.”
Siyang sat down beside him, looking out at the glinting, mossy waters. “Because you didn’t. Why did you skip training?”
Zhuo Zhi stirred, stretching and offering a lazy smile coupled with the briefest brushing of long eyelashes against pale cheeks. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“Don’t give me excuses.” Siyang snapped his gaze from the water to fix Zhuo Zhi with a stern glare, before catching sight of his small, sheepish grin, eyes slanted with an unspoken apology. Immediately, Siyang understood that something else was wrong.
He didn’t chase it. He would allow themselves to slip into a more familiar dynamic first.
“I don’t have to remind you of how soon Nationals are.” He chastised without any real bite.
At this point, he felt like he was just going through the motions of being a captain.
“Afraid I’m not working hard enough?”
“I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“Hm.” Zhuo Zhi looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He was probably still drowsy from whatever nap he had just taken. Either that or he was being coquettish, which was more than what Siyang could handle.
“Did you know that there are approximately a thousand fish in this pond?” Zhuo Zhi sat up abruptly, fingers reaching for a pebble. He toyed with it idly before flicking it into the water. Siyang said nothing and watched the surface ripple. A koi’s tail wavered in the murky shallows as it swam away from the disturbance. “How many do you think you’ve traumatised with all your fishing?”
Siyang couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. Zhuo Zhi had never gotten his love for the hobby. The quiet and the peace he understood, but according to him, Siyang could have chosen to pick up drawing or photography or whatever else that didn’t involve “animal cruelty” to unwind.
“You know I let them all go.”
“But still. Those poor fish. For five minutes in that container you use they think they’re going to die.” Zhuo Zhi suppressed a shudder. Siyang nudged his shoulder without thinking.
“I’d gladly pay for their therapy if it satisfies you.” He commented drily. Zhuo Zhi smiled up at him.
He had probably picked up on Siyang’s attempt at banter.
The sun sunk farther in the horizon.
“I think a bit of empathy could probably cure you of your fishing obsession.”
Siyang looked over at Zhuo Zhi, the tips of his ears red from the cold. He shucked off his jacket and tossed it over his head. “You’re going to catch a cold.”
Wriggling, Zhuo Zhi wrapped the jacket around his face like a hoodie, looking much, much younger as he did so. His cheeks puffed just a little, taking the edge off him and causing a spark of endearment to lance through Siyang’s chest. He had to look away before he began to stare for a reason he didn’t yet have the capacity to explore with a rational mind. He coughed. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I said we should go somewhere to make you empathise with the poor fish a bit more.”
“I’m not going to swim.”
“Pity. I’d love to see that.” Zhuo Zhi sighed. “But no. More up close and personal, methinks. I suggest the aquarium. That way you can experience what it’s like underwater.”
“Yes, I’m aware of what being in an aquarium entails.” Siyang was more amused if anything.
“Well then, that saves me the explanation. Saturday?”
“Is this a ploy to distract me from asking about your absence today?”
“I don’t know. Is it working?” Zhuo Zhi held Siyang’s gaze innocently.
Siyang sighed internally. There were a lot of unresolved matters at hand and he was busy with other extracurricular affairs; All that, plus the mounting pressures of Nationals and dwindling precious time to re-train his left arm… But for the same inexplicable reason that always led to him giving in to each and every one of Zhuo Zhi’s whims, he didn’t have the heart to say no.
“Tomorrow evening. No later or earlier.”
“Dinner?”
“You’re really pushing it this time.”
“Okay. So no dinner?”
The chuckle that rose up Siyang’s throat was hearty. It felt good. When it died down, Zhuo Zhi was looking at him again as though he had accomplished something, the barest remnants of a wide grin on his features.
Things almost felt like normal. Was this Zhuo Zhi’s own attempt at making an effort to regain their old ease?
“No dinner.” A part of Siyang wondered if he would come to regret this decision. He would much rather be enjoying a meal with Zhuo Zhi than settling administration for the tennis club or completing his report for advanced chemistry. But work was work. It was a compromise his ethic kept him adamant about.
Zhuo Zhi nodded. He understood. “Next time, I suppose.”
“Mm.”
When he looked up, he was surprised to find that the sun had almost disappeared, the sky a deep indigo.
Funny. Siyang hadn’t quite noticed all this while.
“Let’s go.” He stood, extending a hand to pull Zhuo Zhi up. The warmth of the other boy’s palm and the blades of grass caught in between created a friction that had Siyang curling his fingers in a little when Zhuo Zhi let go to brush off his shorts.
The way home was relatively quiet. Siyang didn’t bring up the topic of Zhuo Zhi’s absence from training again. It was his first time, after all. A warning would suffice.
Plus, he must have had a good reason. He would tell Siyang if he wanted to.
As usual, Zhuo Zhi saw Siyang up to his doorstep even though he lived a whole road away. It was a routine Siyang hadn’t realised how much he’d missed. For some reason however, he felt a strange sense of awkwardness standing outside his house with Zhuo Zhi waiting for him to enter under the streetlamp.
It felt intimate somehow. Different.
The boy quirked a brow. “Aren’t you going to go in?”
Siyang dithered. He never dithered.
“Captain, the flies are going to start swarming us any time now.” Zhuo Zhi teased, but he was beginning to look concerned. “Hey, are you alright?”
“Did you know I was going to find you in the park?”
Zhuo Zhi seemed taken aback by the question. Siyang tensed. Had he caught him off guard? Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything. He only relaxed marginally when Zhuo Zhi began to laugh.
“No.”
“Mm.” Siyang cleared his throat, perplexed at the feeling of disappointment that flickered within him. “Apologies. It was a nonsensical question—”
“But I’d hoped.”
“What?”
Zhuo Zhi was looking at Siyang with an inscrutable expression.
“I didn’t know if you would come find me. But I’d hoped you would.” He repeated.
Somewhere in the dark, a cicada began a low-pitched drone.
The words wouldn’t come. Siyang should have made a well thought-out plan of action for this, because something simply seemed clogged at the back of his throat. When Siyang risked a look into Zhuo Zhi’s eyes, he thought they seemed almost forgiving.
“See you tomorrow, captain.” With that, Zhuo Zhi turned tail and began to walk in the direction of his house, a hand up in a casual wave. Siyang watched his shrinking figure as he walked further into the distance, his jacket still wrapped securely around his shoulders but hanging off just a little because of how Siyang had a slightly broader frame.
Try as he might, he could think of nothing else for the rest of the star-drenched night.
4 — closer
Walking in the dim, cavernous space filled with the quiet sounds of gurgling water and shadows of marine life contained in small glass exhibits was surprisingly healing. For the past hour, Siyang and Zhuo Zhi had been strolling around at a leisurely pace, occasionally bringing up regular school matters and inquiries about Zhuo Yu’s progress. Siyang found the whole thing therapeutic, and every once in a while, Zhuo Zhi would pause at some coral or other to snap away with his camera, aquamarine glow from the water illuminating the focus and peace on his face.
Yes, Siyang found he didn’t regret coming at all.
“You know, you’re supposed to be looking at the fish.” Zhuo Zhi tilted his head at Siyang as they entered a long tunnel-chamber, bamboo sharks and shoals of silver fish drifting overhead. He touched his jaw innocuously. “Have I grown gills?”
Siyang tore his gaze away and focused on a starfish that had somehow found a way to squeeze itself right between a rock and a sleeping turtle’s shell. He pointed it out. Zhuo Zhi snapped a picture.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Siyang asked, casually unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeves to roll them up.
Zhuo Zhi side-eyed him. “Sure. Are you?”
“I am. I’m just sorry I’m not much company today.” Siyang was not talkative by nature. But perhaps Zhuo Zhi had wanted to initiate further conversation at some point during their little trip. His train of thought was immediately interrupted by Zhuo Zhi rolling his eyes and leaving Siyang feeling foolish for overthinking.
“I asked you out to look at fish. I wasn’t exactly expecting a rollicking good time.”
Siyang snorted. “Sounds ridiculous when you put it like that.”
They lapsed into silence once more, just standing together and absorbing the aquatic life surrounding them.
Just as the travelator came to an end, the pair of them spotted familiar blue and white uniforms similar to Yu Qing’s, but with the telltale indigo collars that identified the boys as students from Xing Yao High School.
As they got closer, Siyang realised with a start that it was Jingwu with Hu Liangliang and another student he didn’t recognize. Beside him, Zhuo Zhi tensed, carefree expression hardening almost instantly. He tucked his camera away.
Of all places, this was the last thing he had expected.
Siyang nodded his head when Hu Liang Liang caught sight of him and began to stare at him and Zhuo Zhi, causing Jingwu to turn his head and widen his eyes in surprise, mouth twisting.
“What a coincidence.” Jingwu drawled. “Siyang.” He greeted. Siyang inclined his head. Jingwu’s eyes shifted over to Zhuo Zhi, deliberately dropping his gaze as though to emphasise the obvious height difference. “Zhuo Zhi.”
Zhuo Zhi bared his teeth as he smiled. “Pleasure.”
Siyang nudged his glasses, a migraine already forming. He frequently wondered if he was a tennis captain or a diplomat. Both seemed to require the skill of tolerance.
“What brings you both here?” Jingwu asked nonchalantly, his friends flanking him but feigning disinterest.
“Same as you, I suppose.” Zhuo Zhi cast a glance around the aquarium. “What else if not for the fish?”
Siyang thought he was being cordial enough.
Jingwu ignored him and looked at Siyang directly. “I trust you must be feeling better since you’re out and about.”
“I am.”
“Good. But as for you…” Jingwu looked over at Zhuo Zhi. “I’d have thought you would be slaving away at the courts by now practicing your fancy tricks. Or are we getting ahead of ourselves now?”
Siyang knew Jingwu would not intentionally offend him. He had his respect, but Zhuo Zhi and the rest of Yu Qing were still obvious targets for his barbs. Catching sight of Zhuo Zhi’s increasingly feral stare, he knew he had to step in.
“Jingwu, that’s enough.”
Zhuo Zhi seemed to bristle.
Jingwu regarded Siyang coolly. However, he did take a small step back, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“On account of Siyang here, I’ll let you be.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Zhuo Zhi looked ready for murder.
“You and the rest of your ragtag band really are lucky to have Siyang backing you all up.” He clicked his tongue. “You would never have made it this far otherwise.”
That was the parting shot.
“We’ll see about that at Nationals, won’t we?” Zhuo Zhi’s voice was a deadly calm. “Then we can talk about how far you want your team’s faces to be wiped along the court floor.”
“You—” Enraged, Jingwu and his friends stepped forward, fists clenched.
Siyang exhaled.
“Stop. Now.”
He knew he had injected enough ire into his voice. Both sides stilled, though their glares remained.
“Zhuo Zhi and I will be leaving. We will see you at Nationals. Goodbye.” Without another word, Siyang strode away with Zhuo Zhi following close behind.
Back at the entrance of the aquarium, the sky seemed infinitely brighter, but the mood was heavier than it had been before. Siyang sighed. It was truly Murphy’s Law. Unavoidable.
“Are you alright?” He asked a muted Zhuo Zhi.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Siyang nodded. “I don’t need to tell you not to take Jingwu’s words personally.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Siyang thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in Zhuo Zhi’s smooth voice.
“I’d thought his attitude would have improved after Provincials, but it seems I was wrong. I’ll speak to him about it.”
“Perfect.”
Siyang stopped walking. Zhuo Zhi arched a brow. “What?”
“Is there something you're not telling me?”
“I hate Ji Jingwu’s guts. What else is there to tell?” Zhuo Zhi mused.
“You only get angry when I mention his name.”
Zhuo Zhi scoffed, but Siyang noted the way he refused to meet his eyes. “Perceptive now, are we?”
Siyang pinched the bridge of his nose. He hardly knew how to approach this tactfully. Tact and Zhuo Zhi hardly went hand in hand.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong but are you…” Siyang cleared his throat. “Upset that Jing— he and I are perhaps closer than before?”
Zhuo Zhi gripped his camera. “What’s there to be upset about?”
Would he like to know.
“Well, I just want you to know that while he and I are currently on better terms, I still view him as our opponent.” Siyang looked at Zhuo Zhi carefully. “That hasn’t changed.”
“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”
Deeper and deeper, twists and dead-ends. That was pretty much the sum-up of speaking to Zhuo Zhi when he refused to let Siyang into his head, those clear, brown eyes becoming as impenetrable as a steel wall.
“Fine.” Siyang dropped it. But he didn’t like how Zhuo Zhi still seemed shuttered off, the invisible wall between them solidifying yet again. Something nagged at a corner of his brain. There was something here that he wasn’t getting, wasn't there? Something Zhuo Zhi was wanting him to get.
“Let’s get dinner.”
“You have work to do.” Zhuo Zhi stated, as though he needed reminding.
“I’m hungry. I’m sure you are too.”
Zhuo Zhi’s eyes softened, a familiar glint returning. “You don't have to make anything up to me.”
“I’m not. I’m hungry, and I want your company.”
Perhaps it was better to just be forthcoming.
There was a pause as Zhuo Zhi observed him. Then the beat passed, and Siyang received a small but sincere grin, the first of the day.
“I know a good dim sum place.”
The dumplings were good.
Soupy on the inside and warm and sticky on the outside. But it was the sight of Zhuo Zhi contentedly stuffing his face and scrolling through his pictures, pointing out which fish looked best under which kind of lighting and other camera settings Siyang hadn’t the faintest clue about that made him feel like he’d finally found an opening in a labyrinth he had been muddling through all this time.
The next week, Zhuo Zhi was as dedicated as he could have been in training, nailing shot after shot with a new determination.
Neither of them brought up the incident at the aquarium to the team.
Two weeks before Nationals, Siyang wondered what it would be like to have dinner with Zhuo Zhi again, though he realised it was the walk home he seemed to anticipate more.
5 — equator
For all the build-up, all the blood, sweat and tears, Nationals came and went. In what seemed to be the blink of an eye, Siyang was all too suddenly propping up a gleaming trophy in his hands, cheers from Yu Qing’s supporters flooding his ears and his teammates flinging their arms around him in celebration. He remembered how dazed he had been, sweat still streaking down the back of his neck as he was led off the podium to take a group photo, the rest of the evening passing in a blur of handshakes and exhausted cheers of relief.
Then, as quickly as the elation set in, so did the impending need for new players to be recruited and for a new committee of leaders to be selected from the pool of members they had. Together with Dayong, the pair of them officially passed on the mantle of captain and vice-captain to Baiyang and Qiao Chen (not necessarily in that order). Tears were shed, and Siyang found himself holding back a burning sensation behind his eyes.
He knew they would do him proud. The team had always been in good hands, with or without him.
Before they could dwell on it all though, the exam season swept the third years away from training. Siyang had to give his final year his all, and he studied with a single-minded focus he never had before Yu Qing finally claimed the title of champion.
He did well.
So did Zhuo Zhi. But there was no surprise there.
A few more exhausting weeks of guiding Baiyang and Qiao Chen through the (many) trials and errors of being co-captains later, Siyang was walking up the stage to receive his certificate of academic completion, his graduation robes feeling just a little too heavy on his shoulders.
Graduation caps were sent into the air like blackbirds, no one knowing whose was whose when they descended in a messy heap on the ground.
More pictures were taken. Siyang was dragged into a sweet photo with the Golden Partners. He didn’t comment on the way he feels their fingers interlocking behind his nape as they slung their arms around his shoulders.
He had had his suspicions all along.
The picture was taken. Dayong comforted a rapidly tearing Jiale, and Siyang wished them all the best. He knew their friendship, or perhaps more, was one to stay, perhaps longer than any of them would ever have the privilege of experiencing. He was happy for them.
When the crowds gradually thinned and the school grounds eventually cleared out, he found himself gravitating toward a certain lone figure standing just outside the school gates, watching him give the tennis courts where he’d spent a good portion of his youth a final glance.
For the last time they would ever walk home together as eighteen year olds, the ground was still as littered with leafy detritus as before, the air still as moist and humid, and everything was just as Siyang would always remember.
It was almost mundane.
Zhuo Zhi seemed to have read his mind.
“Missing waking up at seven-thirty a.m every day already?”
Siyang smiled. He would miss it, as a matter of fact. He said so, earning him a laugh.
“Predictable.”
They reached the junction all too soon, and just like so many months ago, sunlight played with Zhuo Zhi’s hair, turning it into a soft golden-brown.
He didn’t register the wetness sliding down his cheek until he reached up to take off and wipe his glasses by default, surprised at the foggy sheen. But Zhuo Zhi noticed straightaway, as he always did.
“You know you can always come back to visit Yu Qing, right?” He teased, although Siyang sensed him moving closer. Embarrassed, he turned away slightly, and the hand Zhuo Zhi was about to rest on his shoulder faltered before dropping at his side. He faced the traffic light ahead, presumably to give him some privacy.
The light blinked green, and a woman pushing a stroller glanced at them curiously as they made no move to cross the road.
Siyang pressed his fingers against his eyelids, trying to stem the flow. It wasn’t effective.
“I doubt you ever noticed, but I remember crying just like you are now right at this very spot.”
Siyang wanted to laugh. That seemed like a dozen years ago. “I noticed alright. Your face was all red.”
Zhuo Zhi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. We don’t need to get into the specifics.”
“I never asked why.” The tears were ebbing away. Relieved, Siyang put on his glasses once more and straightened. “Why did you cry?”
“Perhaps I’d been thinking about today.”
Siyang cocked his head. “Graduating.”
Zhuo Zhi didn’t reply. The light blinked green again and this time, Zhuo Zhi led the way across the road. They turned the corner.
“Well. That too, I suppose.”
A maze opened up before Siyang, but unlike before when he would thread with caution, he now proceeded surely. He knew Zhuo Zhi would tell him what was on his mind.
Perhaps they had always been mirroring each other in this regard.
“What else?”
They were now approaching Siyang’s house.
“That was one too many questions. It’s my turn.” Zhuo Zhi leaned against the lamp pole, crossing his arms. “Why were you crying?”
Siyang paused. Graduating was a solid answer on its own. Bidding goodbye to his classmates of three years, the tennis team, Coach Na… it certainly warranted tears. But there was something else. Something he knew he couldn’t say aloud or else he could never take it back.
But the words were stacking up in his throat, and try as he might, Siyang was inexplicably unable to stop them from formulating when they had always seemed stuck.
“Siyang?”
“I want to see you even when school is over.” He rushed. Zhuo Zhi tilted his head. “Sure.”
“Not for tennis.”
“That can be arranged—”
“I like you.”
A silence stretched between them, with Zhuo Zhi’s eyes widening as he looked up from a trail of ants on the ground. Now that it was said, Siyang knew there could be no turning back.
When he received no response, he wondered if it was heartbreak he would experience first, although a certain numbness was already setting in with every tick of the hands in his watch. Rationalising his feelings seemed like the natural next step to imminent rejection, but for once, Siyang was alright with it being up in the air for just a while longer, hovering in that grey area between hope that all of Zhuo Zhi’s past flirtation wasn't something that had him mislead and the disappointment that maybe this was all there was to them: a steady friendship of three years and counting. And why shouldn’t Siyang be grateful for it?
There was nothing worth risking it for.
He set out to retrieve his confession.
“I apologise if I alarmed you.”
“I love you.”
The sun dipped beneath the horizon.
“I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you before our last day.” Zhuo Zhi smiled up at the sky, and something in Siyang’s chest hollowed out. “Guess you beat me to it, huh?”
The streetlamp flickered on. Even under the harsh, artificial light when Siyang had seen Zhuo Zhi after a hundred over sunlight-dappled days, he thought he was beautiful.
He knew then that he had his answer to the millions of questions that had been festering in his mind the past year.
“Zhuo Zhi.”
“Siyang.” The boy said, matching his serious tone, a playful light in his eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Twelve p.m. Don’t be late.”
Zhuo Zhi saluted him, and maybe because they had already said enough to last a lifetime, he turned and walked down the road, hand up in his usual wave. Siyang stayed on his front porch, watching him turn round the bend and disappear, not for the first time and now, certainly not for the last.
As it always happened when he was with Zhuo Zhi, Siyang was surprised by how dark the sky had turned when he eventually looked up.
He headed into his house as the first firefly began its ascent into the night.