Chapter Text
Xiao Zhan had encountered many an awkward situation in his life. Occurrences too numerous to count, the kind of which that made you cringe at 2am when you remembered the mortifying ordeal.
None had been as strange as this.
“It's not what it looks like! I promise!” Xiao Zhan pleads desperately in broken Korean, stuttering on every syllable. In his hands is a bunched up shirt belonging to no other than Oh Sehun, and he stands frozen in the middle of the dressing room, sweat beading on his forehead.
Not-Sehun glares at him, and it’s terrifying.
“Why. are. you. here?”
***
The day started with Xiao Zhan deciding to do something perhaps morally frowned upon. He was going to sneak into the backstage area of an EXO concert. He had been a fan of the group for years, but had missed out on the VIP tickets by mere seconds, and been distraught for several days as a result. Until his friend Chuyue suggested to him to just sneak in. At first Xiao Zhan had choked at such a shameless suggestion, but as time passed he found himself slowly beginning to consider it. After all, it couldn't be that hard could it? And it wasn’t like he had any bad intentions! He just wanted to see the boys. It would be fine.
Famous last words.
***
Sweat prickled beneath Xiao Zhan’s beanie, and his breath came out in quick pants behind his mask as he inched his way along the wall.
The corridor he was in was surprisingly empty, but Xiao Zhan’s nerves were at an all time high, and even the slightest noise had him flinching harshly.
Deep breaths, c’mon now he gave himself a mental pep talk, lest the frantic beating of his heart give away his location before anything else did. You can do this, you’re the Chongqing chilli -AH! He yelped when a door opened somewhere behind him, the sound of voices carrying down, then belatedly smacked a hand over his mouth.
Blood rushed in his ears, and his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, ruining the careful styling of this morning. The voices were gradually getting closer, and with it came Xiao Zhan’s imminent discovery, so he did the only thing he could think of...
He ran.
He ran like a bat out of hell, jacket fluttering beside him until a door on his left caught his attention. It was slightly open, and with a silent prayer Xiao Zhan veered sideways, bursting through the doorway and into a brightly lit room.
Click
The door shut gently behind him, and Xiao Zhan folded over with relief, knees leaning heavily on his elbows. He did not look at his surroundings yet, concentrating on not passing out for the time being.
A mistake.
“Thank god,” he wheezed, bending over almost in half and trying to catch his breath. His glasses fell off his face with a clatter, scuttling somewhere to the other side of the room. Sighing, and feeling very much like god was playing a practical joke on him, Xiao Zhan dropped to his knees, beginning the classic crawl in search of his missing specs. Everywhere he looked was slightly blurry, which didn’t aid in his looking. He ended up bumping into at least two items of furniture and one wall, each time recoiling with a yelped “ow!”, sitting back on his heels and gingerly rubbing his bruised forehead.
The panic from earlier was now fading into a slight annoyance at not being able to find his glasses, and Xiao Zhan was ready to just go without them, consequences be damned, when his fingers brushed upon the corner of something soft.
“What is…” he pulled on it, gathering it in his hands. It appeared to be some form of clothing, though what Xiao Zhan wasn't yet sure. Probably a t-shirt though, given it’s lightness.
It smelt good, he thought guilty, feeling a bit embarrassed to be sniffing a strangers shirt.
A yell, sudden and loud outside the door, and it’s clear that whoever it is is about to walk in. Xiao Zhan, for lack of a better word, flips.
He springs to his feet, still clutching the shirt in his hands, and snaps his head around the room in search of a hiding spot. A dreadful realisation occurs to him. Now that he’s actually looking, he can see that the room he’s in is actually a dressing room. And there’s someone coming in the door right now.
“Hyung, they want you on stage- what the fuck!”
Xiao Zhan was not ashamed to say he screamed.
Right in front of his eyes was the man he’d idolised and adored for close to 6 years. It was Oh Sehun. He was wearing a hoodie and a bit blurry around the edges but it was him, Xiao Zhan was sure of it.
“Sehun oppa!”
“Do I look- Sehun!?? What the fuck ? Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing in here?”
Sehun's voice is raised and he sounds angry, which is a stark difference from his usual personality. Xiao Zhan’s knees are shaking both from shock and fear, and he wishes he’d brought his notebook containing korean phrases with him.
“S… sunbae! I mean oppa! I mean hyung! Wait, no. Dongsaeng! Sehun-ah! I’m a big fan!” His voice comes out embarrassingly squeaky, and he’s doubtful as to the accuracy of his Korean pronunciation given the scoff he hears.
“How did you get in here?” Sehun moves in, shutting the door behind him, and Xiao Zhan’s mind instantly fills with a thousand scenarios involving him, Sehun, and whatever available flat space there was for Sehun to push him up against. “Are you a sasaeng? Have you been taking photos?”
He speaks fast, and Xiao Zhan struggles to pick up what he’s saying.
“Joesonghabnida Sehun-nim, can you please speak slower. I don’t understand.”
“I’m not Oh Sehun.”
What.
“Ehh?” Xiao Zhan says intelligently, and (not?) Sehun repeats slowly;
“My name is not Sehun.”
Xiao Zhan finally looks him in the eye, squints and…
“Oh my god. You’re not Sehun.”
***
“I should really report you,” not-Sehun is speaking in Chinese now, and he makes as if to grab his phone so Xiao Zhan dives at him, grappling with strong arms that refuse to budge. In the end Xiao Zhan has to simply settle for hanging off not-Sehun’s arm like a child.
“Please sunbae! I’m begging you! Don’t call the police, I swear I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I just wanted to say hi!”
“You just wanted to say hi?” Not-Sehun raises an eyebrow dubiously, and now that he is closer Xiao Zhan can see all the differences between this man and his bias.
“I swear, sunbae! Yakseuk!”
“Yaksuk”
“Yaksuk!” Xiao Zhan pouts winningly, hoping not-Sehun will take pity on him. It appears to work, for not-Sehun slips his phone back in his pocket with an indistinguishable mutter, and the wave of relief Xiao Zhan feels is so immense his knees buckle.
He closes his eyes, already expecting the meeting of his body with the cold floor. Only for it to never come. Instead he finds himself supported in sturdy arms, and his chest is pressed inch for inch against not-Sehun’s. There is a long moment in which they just stare at each other, and Xiao Zhan can hear the swelling sound of the music around their embracing figures-
love is the moment~
“Are you stupid?”
“Ya!” Xiao Zhan is instantly offended, smacking not-Sehun on the arm. But then not-Sehun smacks him back. Even harder.
“Ow!” Xiao Zhan nurses his bruised dignity and arm, trying to ignore the flush on his face that momentary close contact had caused. “That hurt.”
Real regret flashes across not-Sehun's face, and he makes an aborted step forwards as if to reach for Xiao Zhan. “I’m sorry I… go sit down. I’ll get you some water.” Not-Sehun places one big hand on his shoulder and carefully guides him in the direction of the couches. “My name is Yibo by the way, Wang Yibo.”
Xiao Zhan settles onto the comfortable settee, backside immediately sinking into the plush cushions, and tries to figure out why he’s currently blushing like a chilli pepper.
Not-Se — Yibo. Wang Yibo. Wang Yibo was busy doing something on the other side of the room, and Xiao Zhan realised he was still clutching the shirt like a lifeline. Uncurling his fingers from their death grip required conscious effort, and there were large creases on the grey cotton from his scrunching when at last he laid the shirt out flat beside him.
“Wang Yibo?”
“Yes?” The man’s head pops up.
“Have you seen any glasses? I dropped them earlier.”
“I’ll have a look,” Wang Yibo promises, and Xiao Zhan is floored at the instant care he’s showing for him, despite their standoffish first meeting. It makes something in him feel very soft and warm, twisting like a cat in search of belly rubs as Wang Yibo ambles back, hands holding an assortment of bottles.
“Thank you-“ Xiao Zhan stands up to take some of the bottles from Wang Yibo, however unbeknownst to him the tile directly in front of his shoe is slightly raised, so Xiao Zhan trips as he steps forward.
Once more time seems to slow down, everything in slow motion as Xiao Zhan falls onto Wang Yibo. Bottles scattering everywhere as they topple together, and Xiao Zhan squeezes his eyes shut tightly in preparation for what will likely be a painful splat.
That is why when he falls, and finds the impact cushioned by something soft and hard, he does not immediately open his eyes. There is something on his lips. Something that feels warm and human.
When Xiao Zhan cracks open his eyes slowly, the first thing he sees is Wang Yibo’s eyebrows. With great reluctance he opens his eyes more, and is struck in the face with the horrifying reality that he had just tripped and fallen on Wang Yibo, and now they were kissing, in a series of events so reminiscent of a k-drama Xiao Zhan wanted to cry.
Omo