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It comes as a surprise to absolutely no one when Siyuan and Junhao climb into the same car out of Dachang the day after they wrap up filming for both their mentor collaboration stages. It’s not so much a “goodbye” as it is a “see you later”, since Junhao had already taken the liberty of inviting everyone to Siyuan’s place on his behalf once the show wraps. There’s the customary round of hugs (and getting picked up by everyone who’s taller than them), promising Shiqi that no, they won’t forget about him the minute they leave, plus waving to the fans camped out around the dorm. Then, absolute silence as Siyuan and Junhao slump down in the plush seats of the car, letting out audible sighs of relief at finally leaving the cursed compounds.
Junhao thinks he hears Yihang offhandedly comment to someone that “this feels like we’re sending off our parents or something”. He resolutely chooses to ignore that statement and its implications, instead closing his eyes and allowing the rumble of the engine to lull him into a deep sleep.
When he next blinks himself awake, they’re already in the middle of the city, stopped at an intersection. There’s a light drizzle pattering down all around them, sending tiny drops of rainwater rolling down the side of the car and a slight chill seeping through the windows. Next to Junhao, Siyuan is trying to take pictures of the city through the car window with one hand. He visibly struggles for a second, stretching his thumb across the screen to press the shutter button. He succeeds, but his phone slips through his grip at that moment, only escaping its fate on the ground when Junhao grabs it, hand poised for action the second he had seen Siyuan aiming his phone out the window.
“Just use both hands, dumbass.” Junhao says, handing the phone back to Siyuan. A visibly startled Siyuan who is now leveling him with a look that whispers murder.
“What.” Junhao deadpans back. At the beginning of their friendship, when both of them were still carefully treading the line of cordiality, the only expressions Junhao ever got from Siyuan were laced with sweet smiles and eyes shining with laughter. If you were to ask Junhao who stepped over that line first, he would smile proudly and gesture at himself. Of course it would be him, Siyuan was way too polite to ever respond to an acquaintance with anything more than laughter and kindness, that was just the way he was. The Siyuan now though, Junhao couldn’t say the same. He would wonder what exactly changed, but he already knows the answer. (It was me, Junhao thinks with pride, I did that.)
“I will use both hands, but only after you kindly return my other hand.” Siyuan shoots back, voice overly polite and eyes flashing. It’s only then that Junhao looks down. His hand, the one not currently hovering in mid-air holding the phone, is wrapped tightly around Siyuan’s left hand. He can feel the heat rushing to his face when he realises what he managed to do in his sleep, and then a second wave of heat hits him immediately after when he realises that he didn’t notice it because it had basically become second nature to him already.
Junhao clears his throat, then carefully untangles their intertwined hands and places Siyuan’s back onto his lap with a perfunctory pat. He’s rewarded with an unimpressed lift of the corner of Siyuan’s lips, and then Siyuan turns back out towards the window to resume his photo-taking session.
When they finally pull up in front of Siyuan’s apartment complex, it’s already evening and the sky is a mix of purples and oranges. Predictably, Siyuan pauses in front of the steps up to the front lounge to snap a few pictures of the sunset. Junhao stoops on one of the steps, waiting for Siyuan to be done. Framed by the setting sun and the vibrant colours, Siyuan’s small frame looks slightly ethereal. Junhao sneaks his phone out to take a picture of this scene — something about it radiates peace and calm, and Junhao catches himself thinking that he could stay like this forever: watching Siyuan, at ease and happy again, watching the pretty sky. He mentally smacks himself for thinking that way. Sure, Siyuan may have offered to let him bunk at his place till finals night, but he would have done the same for any trainee in his position. It made no sense for him to fly home and all the way back to Beijing again in a week, and considering he couldn’t do much production work in that time even if he did, Junhao figures giving himself a two-week break is acceptable.
“What do you want to eat for dinner? We can order in.” Siyuan asks, extending a hand to Junhao as he pockets his phone. Junhao takes the offered hand and pulls himself up, noting that it really does feel nicer to hold Siyuan’s hand without a hand sleeve in between them. He mentally slaps himself again.
“Anything’s good. What are you craving?” Junhao makes to retract his hand and pull his luggage up the steps, but Siyuan stuffs their connected hands into his jacket pocket instead and turns to pull his own luggage up the steps. Junhao’s focus comes to a screeching halt again. Sure they had held hands before in Dachang, but that was when Siyuan was rushing him to and from venues because Junhao had held them up deciding what to wear and they were late once again. They definitely weren’t in a rush to go anywhere right now, so was it okay for them to hold hands like this? “Let’s eat --” Siyuan begins, but he pauses when he notices that Junhao has turned stock still.
“Earth to Junhao, earth to Junhao, you good?” Siyuan gives Junhao’s hand a squeeze and moves to interlock their fingers instead, doing absolutely nothing for Junhao’s current crisis. Focus, Junhao, focus. Junhao’s gaze snaps back up to Siyuan’s face instead of the distant spot behind him, and he squeezes out his most convincing smile.
“Yes! Just hungry. Decide what to eat and order it right now dude, I don’t think I can last another hour.” Junhao says, finally reaching back to haul his luggage up the steps. Siyuan decides on mala tang, much to Junhao’s delight, but he only verbalises this decision to Junhao because both his hands are currently occupied, one pulling a chunky aluminium carrier along behind him, the other pulling a pliant Junhao closer to him as someone passes them in the narrow corridor. Behind the faceless man, he sees a group of people making their way down the corridor, and Junhao tells himself that’s the only reason why he presses even closer to Siyuan, hooking his chin over Siyuan’s bony shoulder and flattening himself against his back. Junhao thinks he feels Siyuan tilt his head to lean a bit closer to him, but he can’t be sure. He might be delusional at this point.
They do eventually get their mala tang, after their luggages have been unpacked and Junhao slides down onto the sofa, willing himself to become one with the piece of furniture. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, feeling the stress of camp finally leaving his body and the tension slowly seeping out. Junhao can feel Siyuan’s eyes on him as he carries the bowl of food into the living room and he assumes Siyuan’s about to throw a pillow at him to wake him up, braces for the impact. It never comes, though.
What he gets instead is a hand gently brushing his forehead, fingers lightly carding through his fringe and pushing it away from his eyes.
“Hey, princess. Time to eat.” Siyuan’s voice says from somewhere very nearby. Junhao smiles at the pet name, cracking his eyes open slowly, and is greeted with Siyuan’s shiny eyes staring straight at him. His hair is damp from the shower he took while Junhao was rolling around in bed procrastinating unpacking his luggage, and his fringe hangs over his eyes in spikes. He looks like comfort personified.
“That’s your nickname. I’m no princess,” he retorts.
Junhao takes Siyuan’s hand as leverage to pull himself off the sofa and thinks distantly to himself that perhaps, he really could get used to this.
⟡
The next two weeks pass in a blur. Junhao knows Siyuan planned to work on tracks for his new album, while he had decided to head out and explore the city, maybe draw some inspiration for his next release. They fall into a routine of sorts — Siyuan wakes up at 7 every morning, pads into Junhao’s room in his obnoxiously fluffy bedroom slippers, greets him with a good morning and shuts the door gently before he prepares breakfast for both of them (hard-boiled eggs for Junhao, hot coffee for himself) and retreats into his studio for the rest of the day. Junhao had barely registered Siyuan coming into his room the first two times but on the third morning, a sneeze jolts Junhao awake before Siyuan can open his door and Junhao is conscious enough to watch Siyuan slide into the bedroom quietly and bend over the side of the bed he’s rolled to.
“Good morning, have a good day today.” Siyuan whispers, pulling the covers up a little tighter around Junhao. He runs a hand through Junhao’s hair and tucks it behind his ear before straightening up and preparing to leave.
“Ge, dry your hair before you put a cap on. You’ll catch a cold.” Junhao’s hand shoots out from under the neatly tucked blanket to grab onto Siyuan’s wrist, startling him. His voice is rough from disuse, a little lower and softer than it usually is, but Siyuan must catch the concern in his voice, because he stoops down to ruffle his hair. He gives Junhao a nod and a quick smile, and then he’s gone for the day.
“Ge! Can you wake me up next time so I can at least say good morning back? You like talking to a corpse that much?” Junhao asks as the door closes.
“You didn’t even say good morning back today you little shit!” is the answering shout he gets from somewhere outside.
Siyuan complies despite what he says, and even though Junhao hates early mornings, he comes to appreciate the still, quiet air that comes with it when he’s shaken awake by a hand carding through his hair each morning. Without fail, Siyuan pads in at 7 everyday, greets him with a soft good morning while Junhao slowly shakes himself awake, interlacing their fingers on his face for a moment before wishing Siyuan a good day back. With each passing day, the moment Siyuan allows his hand to linger on Junhao’s face grows a little longer, and Junhao thinks he falls a little more.
Although they technically live under the same roof now, Junhao can count on one hand the number of times they’ve actually sat down and had a meal together throughout the first week. When Siyuan had offhandedly mentioned that he usually never left the studio while coming up with new tracks, Junhao hadn’t thought he meant it so literally. There are telltale signs of frustration in Siyuan’s behaviour, from the perpetual frown etched between his eyebrows when he emerges from the studio to grab a drink to the way he literally cannot sit down for ten minutes at the dining table without leaving to write something down in his studio.
Through it all, though, he never forgets to visit Junhao each morning, and these morning visits have become just about the only time the frown isn’t vaguely present on his face. Junhao decides it’s time to do something to help Siyuan ease up a little.
It’s on one of the evening walks Junhao has begun taking to the park by the river that he begins thinking about how to help Siyuan relax. He thinks about the photo album in Siyuan’s phone solely dedicated to pictures of the sky at sunrise and sunset, thinks about how Siyuan hasn’t stepped out of the house since they first moved back in, of the number of sunrises and sunsets he’s missed while being cooped up in the studio. That’s what leads Junhao to sit on a bench by the river for the next two hours, waiting patiently for 7:02PM to flash on his phone screen. He knows he’s running terribly late from their usual schedule, which has him returning back by six in the evening on most days, but he thinks it’s worth it. As Junhao watches the little family units trooping through the park, the lone runners in all their gaudy running gear glory and the occasional couple strolling through hand-in-hand, stuck to each other’s side, he does wonder briefly if Siyuan will notice his absence in the time he stays out for.
It’s a silly thought, because really, why would he, so Junhao bats it aside in favour of watching a corgi waddle past. Sunset comes and goes, and once Junhao is satisfied with the quality of the pictures he dusts himself off and heads back home. His stomach growls intermittently, and he absently contemplates grabbing dinner for both of them on the way back. He decides against it though, when he remembers that there’s enough groceries left in the pantry to whip up a few dishes for dinner. Siyuan deserves that much, at least.
Usually, when Junhao returns from his walks the noises of a producer hard at work fill the air with chords and beats. Today, however, as Junhao bends over to undo his laces, he notes that it’s unusually quiet in the house.
“Ge, sorry I’m late, I’ll make —” Junhao shouts through a crack in the vending machine door, but is abruptly interrupted by two shaky arms circling around his waist. It’s Siyuan for sure, Junhao could recognise the faint scent of lavender that always hangs around him anywhere, so he’s not alarmed, but this is definitely not how they usually greet each other.
Junhao can feel the uneven puffs of Siyuan’s breath from where his head is tucked into the crook of Junhao’s neck, the slight shiver that runs through his body with every exhale.
“Please don’t go,” he murmurs as Junhao attempts to turn around in the vice grip Siyuan has on his waist. Junhao lightly grips Siyuan’s chin, tilting his head up to get a better look at his sleep-addled expression and mess of hair tucked under his hoodie.
“I’m not going anywhere, but I do need to make us dinner. If you’re sleepy, you can go take a nap first and I’ll wake you up when I’m done. Is that okay?” Junhao says as gently as he can. He can feel Siyuan slowly processing his words, so he takes the moment of silence to smoothen out some of the sleep lines etched on Siyuan’s face. Siyuan visibly relaxes, loosening his grip and tucking his head back into the crook of Junhao’s neck.
He shakes his head, and Junhao can feel his lips moving against his neck as he hears Siyuan whisper back in reply. “Order in, want to nap with you.”
This is new, whatever clingy spell has gotten into Siyuan today, but Junhao hums in acknowledgement and slowly maneuvers them over to the couch, hand draped gingerly over Siyuan’s waist. He settles them both down, arranging Siyuan so his head is pillowed on Junhao’s chest and their legs are comfortably tangled. After making sure Siyuan isn’t in any danger of sliding off him onto the ground, Junhao pulls his phone out to order ramen for the both of them.
“I ordered noodles, it’ll be here in half an hour.” Junhao whispers to Siyuan when he finally feels him stir from his nap. His leg has started going numb, and Junhao makes a mental note not to put all of Siyuan’s weight over one leg in the future. When Junhao looks up from his phone, where he’s been mindlessly scrolling through Weibo for the past 15 minutes, Siyuan has his chin propped up on Junhao’s chest, and is staring at him through half-closed lids.
“Hey, I have something to show you.” Junhao says, pulling up his camera roll and opening the picture of the vibrant sunset he had managed to catch earlier. Bright swatches of pinks, oranges and yellows illuminate the screen he angles toward Siyuan. “It’s today’s sunset! I think the photo turned out okay, not as good as the ones you take but still, it’s pretty stunning.”
“Is this why you stayed out for so long?” Siyuan asks, taking the phone from Junhao to zoom in on the picture. Junhao flashes him a sheepish grin, tightens the hand he has around Siyuan’s waist a little.
“You like it?” Junhao asks.
“I got worried when you didn’t come back, I almost went out to look for you myself. Don’t leave me like that again,” Siyuan says after a while, but a small smile plays on his face as he stares at the photo. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“You haven’t left the house for the past few days, so I figured I could bring the sunset to you instead. Sorry for worrying you, I’ll drop you a text in the future.” Junhao says softly, tugging Siyuan’s hoodie off his head to neaten out the messy tuft of hair. Siyuan doesn’t reply this time, just puts Junhao’s phone back down and burrows his head into the space between Junhao’s shoulder and the armrest of the couch, his arms still steadfastly locked around Junhao’s waist. Siyuan may be the taller of the two, but like this, Junhao can easily loop both his arms around Siyuan’s shoulders, and he soon finds himself falling asleep to the sound of Siyuan’s rhythmic breathing.
⟡
It’s two days before they’re due back at Dachang when the door to Siyuan’s studio slams open with a loud bang, startling a very focused Junhao, who a second before had been perched on the arm of the couch scrolling through pasta recipes.
“Why are you on the floor?” Siyuan asks.
“Why did you slam the door?” Junhao deadpans.
“I finished it, the entire ten tracks. I’m a free man.” Siyuan says as he watches Junhao pull himself off the ground. “You look like a lizard right now,” he adds as an afterthought.
Siyuan’s hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in a few days, and Junhao’s pretty sure Siyuan has been wearing the same pullover for the last week. He flashes Siyuan a middle finger. “Congratulations! Please go get all your dirty laundry from the past week and throw them in the washing machine. Also, take a nice long shower. I’ll get us something good for dinner.”
Siyuan gives Junhao an OK sign, but instead of heading for his room, he heads towards Junhao and falls face first into the couch.
“I meant it in that order, ge. Get your ass off the couch,” Junhao says, using his foot to prod at the lifeless body before him. Silence. Junhao sighs, resigning himself to wade into Siyuan’s room and pick up the steaming heaps of dirty clothes himself.
“My ass isn’t on the couch, by the way,” comes the muffled reply later on when Junhao is halfway out the door.
“You have no ass!” Junhao shouts as he closes it. He distantly wonders what their neighbours would make of that statement as he makes eye contact with the old lady that lives across the corridor from them, stooped outside her front door tending to an onion plant.
Junhao picks up pizza and two tubs of ice cream for the both of them. As an afterthought, he also grabs two bowls of salad on his way out of the mall. There’s a dainty cake box nestled securely between the two plastic bowls, skillfully concealed with some napkins, just in case. Junhao will tuck that away in the fridge later when he unpacks all the food, careful not to wake a sleeping Siyuan who has, Junhao notes with a level of annoyance, not bothered to dry his hair again after showering.
Junhao has to feed Siyuan a few bites of salad before he reaches a decent level of coherence and no longer slumps over Junhao’s shoulder whining about how tiring eating is, but overall it’s a peaceful dinner. They sit side-by-side in front of the television watching episodes of Girl From Nowhere, which Siyuan adamantly insists isn’t too scary for him, but his iron grip on Junhao’s leg by the end of the first episode really says otherwise.
Midnight finds them in Junhao’s room (“We can use my room, it doesn’t actually smell as bad as you think it does.” “I literally went in a few hours ago to pick up your laundry and almost passed out. You want to sit in a biohazard for the rest of the night, be my guest. You can do it alone.”), a tub of ice cream shoved between them and Jurassic World playing on Junhao’s computer. There’s also a million butterflies flying around Junhao’s stomach at how close Siyuan has tucked his face next to Junhao’s, but he swallows them and tries to concentrate on the movie instead.
It’s a truly futile attempt as Junhao subconsciously registers his gaze falling back on Siyuan. The screen illuminates his face from time to time, casting dainty shadows across his cheekbones. His eyelids flutter sporadically as he tries to blink an errant piece of fringe out of his eyes. Before Junhao can even think, he’s reaching around Siyuan’s head to brush the offending piece of hair back, tucking it carefully behind his ear. Siyuan startles at the touch, turning to give him a curious look and suddenly, they’re nose to nose.
Junhao swears the room turns pin drop silent in that moment, his vision zeroing in on Siyuan’s lips which are so very, very close. If he just leaned in...
He hears someone gulp. It could be him.
“I...I’m going to get something from the fridge. Hold on.” Junhao pulls back, trying to conceal the panic in his voice as he pats Siyuan on the leg and hauls himself off the bed. He doesn’t wait for Siyuan’s response, afraid of what he might see on Siyuan’s face. What if he had scared Siyuan?
Food is good, food is neutral territory, Junhao thinks as he pulls the small cake box out from the fridge.
Junhao allows himself a moment to slump over the kitchen counter and calm his rapidly beating heart down before grabbing the only fork visible in the kitchen because seriously, where did all their forks go? He lights a small candle he’d managed to convince the shop owner to give him as he makes his way carefully up the stairs.
As Junhao pushes the room door open gently, Siyuan sits up from where he’d slumped down against the pillows. There’s a complaint sitting on the tip of his tongue if the disgruntled twist of his mouth is anything to go by, but it disappears immediately when he spots the lighted candle perched on a generous slice of strawberry shortcake.
“Surprise! Congratulations on finishing your album, Mr. Musical Genius,” Junhao whispers as he presents the cake to Siyuan. He stoops before Siyuan and gestures for him to make a wish before blowing out the candle. There’s a childlike glimmer to Siyuan’s eyes again, the same one Junhao had seen many a time in their first few months at Dachang, the one he had been trying so hard to get back in the past few weeks as the light slowly flickered out, the lethargy casting perpetual shadows over his face.
Siyuan pauses before the cake and stares very hard at it. Junhao starts worrying that Siyuan’s eyes might fall out of their socket.
“Your cake is about to catch fire, make your wish already.” Junhao prompts Siyuan, gently nudging his knee. Siyuan’s eyes snap up to stare at Junhao instead. There’s a determined expression on his face, one that has never been directed at Junhao before.
Siyuan doesn’t break their eye contact as he blows out the candle and takes the box from Junhao, and frankly, Junhao’s too terrified to move. Siyuan hasn’t said a word, but he also doesn’t look upset and Junhao decides he just has no idea what goes on anymore.
Siyuan moves to cup Junhao’s face in both of his hands, and Junhao feels all the blood in him rush towards his face. He might pass out.
“I made my wish,” Siyuan says, thumbs stroking Junhao’s jaw rhythmically, “but you have to help me make it come true.”
“What do I need to do?” Junhao whispers. It feels wrong to talk at a normal volume right now, like he might disturb the silence enveloping them that borders on reverent. It might as well be, with the way Siyuan is staring at him.
“Can I kiss you?” Siyuan asks. Junhao’s brain checks out for a moment. Did he just...
“Junhao? If this makes you uncomfortable I’ll —” Siyuan starts, but is abruptly cut off by Junhao surging upward and knocking their heads together. There’s a loud thud, and then a split second of silence before they both fall backward laughing.
“Man, if you hate me just say so. No need to try and kill me,” Siyuan laughs as Junhao draws himself up and sits over Siyuan’s legs instead, rubbing at the spot on his head that had collided with Siyuan’s forehead.
“That wasn’t exactly what I was going for but I think you deserve it actually,” Junhao says as he crawls up till he’s face-to-face with a very horizontal Siyuan. He still has the presence of mind to place the cake on his bedside table and away from imminent danger before he resumes hovering over Siyuan.
Siyuan places both hands gently on either side of Junhao’s waist, thumbs circling soothingly over his hip bone.
“Hi.”
“Hello. You seem happy.”
“I am. The love of my life is sitting on me, how could I not be.”
Junhao pauses and looks at Siyuan incredulously. “What did you just call me?”
“Love of my life. I was pretty sure when you ditched me and then came home with that pretty sunset, but I’m definitely sure now. You got me strawberry cake.” Siyuan says, reaching up to cup Junhao’s face between his hands again. Junhao feels a familiar prick in the corner of his eyes before he can stop it, and Siyuan’s hands are there immediately to wipe away the first drops of tears that threaten to roll down Junhao’s cheeks.
“Do I have to confess back? That ruins my vibes,” Junhao says as he attempts to bury his head in Siyuan’s shirt, but is stopped by two very persistent hands.
“My wish,” Siyuan whines, still tending to the errant tears on Junhao’s face. Junhao’s breath catches in his throat. He’s close enough to count the individual eyelashes on Siyuan, close enough to...
Who moves first becomes an age-old mystery that they will fight over for years to come, but in this moment, lips pressed together with a satisfied hum, Junhao thinks there was really nothing to worry about. Kissing Siyuan feels right, familiar. His thumbs continue to trace reassuring circles over Junhao’s hip, allowing Junhao free reign to wrap his hands tightly around Siyuan’s neck and deepen the kiss when he sees fit. When Junhao starts running out of breath, he attempts to move back but is stopped by Siyuan surging up and pressing back into the kiss. They continue this back-and-forth until both of them well and truly run out of breath, foreheads pressed together and breaths intermingling as they both gasp for air.
“I love you too,” Junhao whispers into Siyuan’s ear as he lands a kiss on Siyuan’s cheek. He repeats this statement, chanting it like an oath, as he makes his way across Siyuan’s face, kissing those perfect cheekbones, that perfect nose, his eyelids and peppering a few on his forehead for good measure.
Siyuan looks suitably overwhelmed by the time Junhao is satisfied and pulls away. Junhao considers that payback for everything he’s put him through over the past few months.
⟡
“By the way, I think Shiqi’s about to lose like ten bucks.” Siyuan says later on once they’ve settled in for the night, carding his fingers through Junhao’s hair.
“Why?” Junhao asks from where he’s tucked under Siyuan’s arm, already drifting off to sleep.
“I overheard them talking. They placed bets on when we would get together, Haoming bet before finals and Shiqi bet after, so Haoming wins I guess.”
“Well then, serves him right for having so little faith in us.”
Us, Junhao thinks, that sounds about right.