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Xiao Zhan’s been talking for 12 minutes straight about the logistics for meeting up in Shanghai when he realizes that Yibo hasn’t said anything.
Which is weird, because the man is usually very focused and competitive about meeting up, as if he’s playing a video game where the objective is to get -- and maximize -- time together by any method necessary, all while evading rabid fans, annoyed managers, and shady paparazzi.
But now he’s casually pouting on Xiao Zhan’s screen, eyes sliding everywhere but at the camera, clearly waiting for him to notice he’s unhappy, dammit.
Xiao Zhan sighs. “And what did I do this time?”
Yibo shrugs. “Mmm?”
“Aiyaaa, Bo-ge,” Xiao Zhan draws out in his best coaxing voice, all sing-songy and syrupy. “How have I wronged you today, baobao? ”
Yibo finally looks up, his lips drawn into a flat line. He exhales dramatically as the image jostles for a moment, and then he mumbles, “I sent you something.”
Xiao Zhan swipes to open the attachment Yibo has sent and huffs out a laugh. It’s a short clip of behind-the-scenes footage from his drama, Doulou Continent, which had recently started airing. In it, he’s holding on to an invisible stripper pole that he rolls his body against languorously, then drops his eyes to the ground, his mouth open in a seductive display.
“Ummm, okay,” Xiao Zhan remarks cautiously. “So… this is what you’re upset about? A three second clip from almost two years ago?”
Yibo doesn’t respond.
Xiao Zhan wants to laugh at the idea that Wang Yibo -- famous idol, actor, model, host, racer, this absolute force of nature -- could possibly feel threatened by something so inconsequential, but then again, Yibo’s never been good at sharing his attention, so he knows he has to tread carefully.
“Ah, Lao Wang, please forgive my past indiscretions,” Xiao Zhan purrs. He watches the video loop a few times while Yibo’s annoyed face glowers from a little box in the corner of his screen. He swipes back to their call. “I’m pretty sure we were just joking about something we’d seen. I wasn’t… actually seducing anyone, you know.” He tilts his head to appraise Yibo’s expression. “You do know that, right?”
“Of course, but--”
“And I was with you then, and I’m with you now, so--”
Yibo’s frustration radiates from the phone screen. “But that’s the thing -- you weren’t with me then, and you’re - you're not with me now. I mean, yes, we’ve been together all this time, but--”
“Aish, Yibo… are we starting again?”
“--you’re with other people more than you’re with me,” Yibo stammers. “And then I have to see these moments that other people got to have with you that I didn’t, that I - I don’t get, because I’m not there with you…”
Xiao Zhan’s eyes go soft. “Lao Wang.”
“And I - I don’t do--”
“Oh come on,” Xiao Zhan groans. “I watched Street Dance like everyone else, and you did plenty of stuff that made me look twice--”
Yibo looks pained. “Those were performances, ge. This is--”
“I know, Lao Wang. We’re different people, though. I’m a big flirty goof,” he says with a flirty little pout. “You know how I like to play around on sets… and isn’t that part of what you love about me?”
“Yeah, but you know I don’t like to share that part of you with others,” Yibo grumbles. “I don’t get enough of you as it is.”
“We just spent the holiday together,” Xiao Zhan points out, thinking back to the long stretch of days together at home in Beijing, when he got to spoil Yibo with home cooked meals and long mornings in bed (okay, maybe Yibo’s parents staying with them put a little damper on that). But still…
“It’s never enough, and… it almost makes being apart worse,” Yibo says, and Xiao Zhan knows exactly what he means.
Whenever they are lucky enough to make a long visit happen, he’ll get used to the mundane moments -- like having to shoo Yibo out of the kitchen, waking up in the morning all sweaty because Yibo is wrapped around him, or just turning his head and finding Yibo already looking at him. And then suddenly he’s gone, and it takes days and days for the phantom pain to subside to more tolerable levels.
So he gets it.
“I understand,” he tells Yibo. “All of it. You know, I felt a little jealous too, when I watched the behind-the-scenes video for that romantic last scene in Fei, with you kissing Liying-jie under a shower of petals… We never got a scene like that.”
Yibo snorts. “How could you be jealous of her? She’s married…”
“Oh?” Xiao Zhan gives Yibo an exaggerated look of surprise that dissolves into a grin as he waves a hand in front of his face, flashing the shiny band on his ring finger.
The smile Yibo gives him is brilliant. “I know, I know,” he laughs. “I know I’m just being stupid.”
“No, not stupid, Lao Wang. It’s… hard to be apart. I feel it too.” He shakes his head. “We always knew it was going to be like this -- so just… don’t shut me out. Give me a chance to remind you that I’m yours, ah?”
Yibo’s eyes light up. “Oh. I will.”
And if Xiao Zhan finds a stripper pole installed in their bedroom the next time he’s home, that’s nobody’s business but theirs.
