Chapter Text
Shang Qinghua had been asleep.
Free of having to write, go to his awful job at the cafe downstairs, or do any household chores, he had curled up into his deliciously soft blankets to take the nap his body had been craving for weeks. He’d even had a pretty nice dream! He couldn’t remember what had happened, but he remembers feeling safe and warm.
But now? He’s awake, grumpy, and leaning heavily against his door frame with Mobei Jun towering over him.
“I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I texted an hour ago,” Mobei Jun says flatly. “You never answered.”
“I was taking a nap.” Shang Qinghua steps aside as Mobei Jun strides into his apartment.
“Shen Yuan said you know how to ballroom dance.”
Shang Qinghua’s eyebrows furrow. A slight chill goes through his legs.
“A bit. Why?”
“I need someone to teach me how to do the Viennese waltz.”
“I really don’t know any instructors. It’s been too long since I danced. Maybe try-”
“I want you to teach me.”
Shang Qinghua sputters.
Seriously?!
“Did Shen Yuan tell you I haven’t danced since I was fifteen?”
“Yes.”
“And that I was a glorified in-house practice partner for my step-sister?”
“Are you saying you can’t do it?” Mobei Jun frowns slightly, one eyebrow raising, his head tilting to the side.
“No! I’m not saying that at all, but…” Shang Qinghua trails off with a small groan when Mobei Jun tilts his head a little bit more.
Mobei Jun’s almost-pout should be illegal. There’s no way someone two meters tall should be able to look cute, but here he is. Looking absolutely adorable.
Fuck. Fine.
“Alright, alright, I’ll teach you,” Shang Qinghua says, ignoring his friend’s triumphant smirk. “But we’ll need to go to the roof. There’s not enough room in here.” He grabs the pair of shoes he has by the door and pulls them on a little more clumsily than usual in hopes that Mobei Jun will change his mind and get an actual teacher.
(It doesn’t work.)
⤜❅⤛
Mobei Jun, to Shang Qinghua’s chagrin, follows him wordlessly up the stairs, eyes boring into his back.
(For as cold Mobei Jun’s stare is, Shang Qinghua swears he’s going to spontaneously combust at any moment now.)
“So are you learning the Viennese waltz for fun?” Shang Qinghua pushes the heavy door to reveal a well-kept roof garden. The roses still haven’t bloomed, but are close. Shang Qinghua absentmindedly strokes at one of the leaves.
“My uncle’s wedding,” Mobei Jun answers, his voice a little distant.
Shang Qinghua flinches. “And you’re actually going?!”
“I have to.”
“Right…” Trust fund baby has to perform for his family if he doesn’t want to get cut off. Even if that family is Linguang Jun.
Shang Qinghua shivers. The last time Shang Qinghua and Linguang Jun met was… memorable. Mobei Jun had shown up just in time to see his uncle push Shang Qinghua to the ground, foot raised and ready to curbstomp Shang Qinghua’s already injured knee into dust.
“Qinghua.”
Shang Qinghua blinks up at Mobei Jun. His chest tightens uncomfortably as his friend looks down at him with what can only be interpreted as a glare.
“A-ah, sorry, sorry,” Shang Qinghua says, forcing a small smile, ignoring how his breath feels stuck in his throat. “Did your uncle have a specific routine in mind, or…?”
“No.”
“O-okay then, um…” Shang Qinghua reties his half bun with shaky fingers. “I guess we do basic steps first, ah? Will you be leading or following? Wait, of course you’ll be leading, why am I even asking?”
Mobei Jun has the audacity to look amused as he ties his hair up. Shang Qinghua stares at the fall of his hair, the freshly shorn undercut peeking through, small patches of white where his hair had no pigment.
“Uh, okay, so… natural turn. One sec, just gotta… remember how to…” Shang Qinghua tentatively takes a few steps, amazed that the movement comes back so easily after a decade. He can breathe again. “Got it! So this is what you do.”
He explains and demonstrates the step for what feels like hours, but Mobei Jun, for all his normal poise, does not seem to be getting it.
Well, Mobei Jun is getting it but it’s not perfect.
Okay, so maybe being forced to take ballroom lessons for seven years made Shang Qinghua vengeful when it comes to the tiniest errors in body position!
Maybe the constant snarking of his father and step-mother at competitions makes him want to cry whenever he sees a misstep!
Maybe having to touch Mobei Jun to correct the angle of his hips makes Shang Qinghua frustrated in a way he doesn’t want to think about!
(…Maybe he doesn’t want to admit he’s actually having fun and wants this moment to last as long as it can.)
Mobei Jun’s natural turn is up to Shang Qinghua’s standard by the time the sun sets.
“Not bad for one day,” Shang Qinghua says, flashing Mobei Jun a smile. Mobei Jun blinks at him.
They descend the stairs, the silence twisting Shang Qinghua’s insides into knots.
“When is the wedding?”
“Two weeks.”
“Great, that’s plenty of time,” Shang Qinghua says.
Well, it’s not enough time for a competition, he thinks wryly, a slight twinge in his leg. But… this is just Mobei Jun’s uncle posturing and showing off how worldly he is at a wedding reception, right? A basic understanding should be fine, right?
“Call when you want to meet next time, okay? I usually get home at four, so… ”
“Tomorrow at six.”
“Oh, ah… y-yeah, perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mobei Jun hums with a slight upturn to his lips and turns on his heel. Shang Qinghua watches him for a moment before unlocking his door.
Shame creeps warmly into his chest. He really shouldn’t be this excited.
Shang Qinghua flops on his bed and stares at the wall until he falls asleep.
⤜❅⤛
The next lessons, despite Shang Qinghua’s constant internal screaming, go smoothly.
Unsurprisingly, Mobei Jun is a fast learner. Shang Qinghua is also more than happy to have the distraction from his routine existence, so he throws himself into teaching. Sure, his writing has suffered a little since he’s hanging out with Mobei Jun during prime typing hours and people are screaming for updates, but for once he doesn’t care.
In fact, there’s really only one thing that Shang Qinghua cares about right now.
“You’re getting really good!” Shang Qinghua says brightly, smiling up at Mobei Jun as they lean against his apartment door.
Mobei Jun preens, which only makes Shang Qinghua’s knees weak. Mobei Jun is so incredibly, incredibly close and it’s all Shang Qinghua can do to stop himself from standing on his toes to kiss his jaw.
“I meant to ask a few days ago, but…” Shang Qinghua starts, trailing off when Mobei Jun gives him a questioning look. “Is the dance just the wedding party participating, or do you have to bring a plus one?”
“A plus one.”
Something ugly and painful itches in Shang Qinghua’s chest.
“Oh. Well… You should probably bring them with you tomorrow. I mean, you need to practice this with a partner now, so…”
“I haven’t asked them yet.”
“You really should do that soon! Won’t they need to learn, too?”
Mobei Jun narrows his eyes. “No.”
“Well… try to bring them tomorrow anyway. It’s really best to rehearse with your actual partner,” Shang Qinghua says, opening the door to his apartment. Mobei Jun’s face is frustratingly blank, even for him. “See you at six?”
“En.”
“Great. And please try to bring them! I- I really want to meet your date,” Shang Qinghua says, a slight tremble to his voice, eyes stinging at the corners.
(Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry-)
“Qinghua-”
“Good night,” Shang Qinghua murmurs. He shuts the door before Mobei Jun can respond.
⤜❅⤛
Shang Qinghua, due to a six-hour long crying session, barely manages two hours of sleep that night. He’s forced to make it through his workday by mainlining caffeine until he swears he could feel colors.
The hyperfocus from the glut of stimulants had been great during the day. He was even able to serve more customers than usual! Even Liu Qingge, the crabbiest man who ever lived, said he did great!
So naturally, Shang Qinghua tries to use this energy to write after he gets home from work. He really does! But his hyperfocus is completely uninterested in typing out ten pages of garbage.
No, instead of being useful, Shang Qinghua’s brain zeros in on the fact that Mobei Jun is coming back for another lesson. With a partner. Someone who is assuredly in Mobei Jun’s league. Probably tall, sophisticated, with a sharp wit and an even sharper jawline. They probably know how to dress, how to hold themselves.
Whoever they are, they’re not a scrawny, baby-faced idiot who talks too much, uses too many puns, constantly loses his glasses, and-
“Fuck, stop it,” Shang Qinghua whines to himself, circling his tiny apartment for what feels like the thousandth time.
Mobei Jun is coming over. He’s done this every day this week. This time with his plus one for his uncle’s wedding. That’s the only difference.
Shang Qinghua doesn’t know much about being invited to weddings, even less about being someone’s plus one, but he knows for a fact that getting dragged to a wedding by someone usually counts as a date. ‘Plus one’ is just fancy-person speak for ‘date’, after all.
“Damn it,” Shang Qinghua whispers, chewing at his thumbnail. A date.
No! Stop it! Mobei Jun deserves to date someone! It’s fine! The fact that Shang Qinghua has been swooning over Mobei Jun for years is of no consequence! As long as his friend’s happy, he can suck it up!
(He really should not have had that much coffee; his entire body feels like it’s vibrating.)
He squeaks when there’s a knock at the door and he scrambles to it with shaky legs.
Shang Qinghua’s hand hovers over the doorknob as he tries to not cry again. He takes a deep breath and lets it out as slowly as he can.
“Okay, Qinghua. Time to calm down. Be chill.”
He opens the door to Mobei Jun towering over him, and-
“H-hey!”
“Hi.”
(There’s no one else?!)
“Where’s your partner?”
Mobei Jun furrows his eyebrows.
“Oh,” Shang Qinghua says, unsure if someone dared to reject Mobei Jun or if Mobei Jun isn’t actually confident enough to ask this mysterious person. “I can sub in for today if you still want to practice. You still have a few days to get ready, though, so if you want to take a break-”
“I don’t.”
“Okay! Great! Let’s go.” Shang Qinghua cringes at how strained his voice sounds. He pulls his door closed, jumping slightly when it slams.
“Are you okay?”
“Yep! Amazing!”
Luckily his legs stop shaking by the time they’re on the roof. It’s a beautiful evening, and the stillness helps quiet his jackrabbiting heartbeat. He stretches out his aching shoulders and cracks the vertebrae in his neck. It does nothing to unknot the tension in his muscles.
“Okay, show me what you’ve learned so far before we start.”
(And of course, Mobei Jun is great. Aside from having to correct his foot position once, he’s near perfect. Mobei Jun looks slightly smug as he reties his ponytail.)
“I don’t know if you’ve watched videos, but in a Viennese waltz…” Shang Qinghua begins to explain, his arm shaking as he reaches out for Mobei Jun’s shoulder. “May I?”
Mobei Jun gives him a look, his lips slightly parted. It’s one that he’s rarely seen on Mobei Jun’s face, but Shang Qinghua takes it as permission.
“Anyway, if I’m following, my left hand will be here,” he explains, placing his hand on the swell of Mobei Jun’s deltoid. “And my right hand will be on top of your left.” He tentatively takes Mobei Jun’s hand in his, ignoring the lump in his throat.
Touching Mobei Jun, even just a brush of a shoulder, is grounding — except for today. Today Shang Qinghua has to bite his lip to keep himself from shaking, to remind himself that this is temporary.
He can’t enjoy this.
(He wants to enjoy this.)
“Qinghua?”
Shang Qinghua’s shoulders stiffen at Mobei Jun calling his name. He swallows roughly. “Sorry, just thinking.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Shang Qinghua nods jerkily and takes a deep breath before continuing.
“Your right hand will rest on my shoulder blade, kinda under my armpit… right there. If Linguang Jun is going for something more traditional, you’ll be pressed against your partner’s stomach, and they’ll be leaned back a bit, like this.”
Shang Qinghua shudders; he did not expect the touch to be so painfully electric that he couldn’t feel the edges of his body.
“Alright, lead the way.”
It’s clumsy at first (due to both Mobei Jun’s inexperience and Shang Qinghua’s lack of practice) but slowly, slowly they find their rhythm. Shang Qinghua silently wishes he brought a speaker, but the quiet is relaxing, the constant touch even moreso. He wants to relish it, enjoy every last second, but he’s already mourning its loss.
(He’s already mourning this friendship.)
“You’re doing really well,” he says, his throat tight around his words. Mobei Jun’s mouth twitches upward at the corners and Shang Qinghua’s legs start to tremble.
They’d stay friends if Mobei Jun started dating this mystery person, right? He looks up at Mobei Jun, the sunlight reflecting white off his skin.
Shang Qinghua’s hand twitches in Mobei Jun’s.
Sure, he has Shen Yuan, but Mobei Jun is actually nice to him and spends time with him more than once a-
“Fuck!” Shang Qinghua yelps, his ankle turning awkwardly underneath him as a rock skitters across the rooftop. Mobei Jun’s hands fist in his shirt and he catches Shang Qinghua before he crumples to the ground.
“Steady.” Mobei Jun pulls Shang Qinghua back up, his hand still resting neatly on his shoulder blade as if they’d done this on purpose. “What happened?”
“I tripped on a rock. I should be- son of a fuck, fuck me right in the ass!” Shang Qinghua shrieks, immediately taking all weight off his leg.
He’s sprained his ankle. Again.
Shang Qinghua takes two deep breaths and puts weight on his leg again, screaming and pitching forward when his toes touch the ground. Mobei Jun grabs him by the waist, which would normally make Shang Qinghua want to die from happiness (or die in a hole), but holy fuck, his ankle hurts.
“We’re done for today.”
“No! No, give me a minute,” Shang Qinghua pants, determined to push through. Mobei Jun needs him. He gingerly places his foot back on the ground and gasps sharply, almost sobbing.
“Stop. We’re done.”
“I’ve danced through worse, I’m fine.” Shang Qinghua grits his teeth and puts weight on his leg again, this time even more slowly. He hisses when he does, his leg shaking with pain and his eyes welling with tears, but he manages to straighten up. “See? Fine.”
“Then dance.”
“What?”
Mobei Jun crosses his arms. “If your leg is fine, dance.”
“...don’t feel like it.”
Mobei Jun clicks his tongue and lifts Shang Qinghua up by the hips. Shang Qinghua squeaks, wriggling in protest as he’s thrown over Mobei Jun’s shoulder like a rag doll. Mobei Jun places one broad, cold palm on the meat of Shang Qinghua’s ass.
Shang Qinghua stuffs a fist in his mouth to keep from screaming.
⤜❅⤛
Airplane: Bro
Airplane: I fukkin hate u so much
Cumbro: ????
Airplane: fukkin LOOK AT MY ANKLE
Airplane: <img069.jpg>
Airplane: LOOK
Cumbro: What the fuck does this have to do with me????
Cumbro: And don’t send me pics of your gross bruise.
Airplane: u told MBJ i knew how to dance and now look!!!!!!!!
Airplane: I AM CRIPPLED
Airplane: FOR LIFE
Airplane: I WILL NEVER DANCE AGAIN
Cumbro: Don’t you hate dancing though?
Airplane: YES BUT THATS NOT THE POINT
Shang Qinghua frowns at the purple rapidly spreading across his skin. His leg isn’t broken, but honestly? He’s broken his leg before and it both healed faster and hurt less than a sprain like this.
(Speaking of hurting, holy fuck, his ankle is throbbing.)
Mobei Jun had left to grab a brace for him nearly an hour ago, and while it gives him time to think and decompress, he’s fidgety. And without being able to pace like he normally does, he feels like he’s going to come out of his skin.
Airplane: do u kno who he’s taking to the wedding
Cumbro: Yep.
Airplane: WHO IS IT
Cumbro: Bro.
Cumbro: I want to break your other leg.
Airplane: First, not broken
Airplane: Second, QAQ!!!
Airplane: I just wanna kno if they’re good enough for him!!!!
Cumbro: He’s not, trust me.
Airplane: WAIT, HE?! DO WE KNOW HIM?!
Airplane: ALSO
Airplane: BRO THATS NOT GOOD
Airplane: WHAT IF HES AN AWFUL PERSON AND HURT HIM
Airplane: DJSHSHSBDLCBA
Shang Qinghua is so absorbed in keysmashing that he doesn’t notice his apartment door swing open. He yelps when a brace and a compression bandage are dropped into his lap.
“Do you need help with these?” Mobei Jun asks, an amused glint in his eyes.
“No, I’ve done this before.” Shang Qinghua squints at the box. “Wow, name brand. You’re spoiling me.” Shang Qinghua opens the compression bandage and begins wrapping his ankle. “You should still bring your partner tomorrow. I should be okay to teach by then.”
“Your ankle.”
Shang Qinghua shrugs. “I’ve rolled this ankle a lot. I actually really fucked it up when I was fifteen. It was almost fatter than my calf. Super gross.” He laughs and then grimaces, remembering the crunch of his tendons over his bones.
(Remembering how he couldn’t disappoint his step-sister, remembering how he’d fallen in the middle of their routine because his leg couldn’t hold his weight anymore, remembering-)
(Nope. Not going there. Stop.)
Mobei Jun sits next to him, watching closely as he tucks the end of his bandage in.
“Just… bring your plus one tomorrow, okay? If… you’re nervous about asking them, don’t be. Not that you’d be nervous about it! But if you are, you shouldn’t be, because you’re amazing and-”
“Qinghua.”
“-I know, I know, I shouldn’t get in your business, but I’m… Fuck.” He stops to bury his face in his hands. “I’m not even sure if you want to date this person-”
“I do.”
(Oh.)
Shang Qinghua feels his heart plunge into his belly.
“Ah, who else would you take to a wedding, right?” He forces a laugh. “I know I haven't met them yet, but I really, really hope they deserve you.”
Mobei Jun laughs. It’s quiet, something that anyone else would mistake for a puff of air. Shang Qinghua looks up, hands now balled into fists.
“I’m serious! If whoever you date hurts you, I’ll gut them!”
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t tell me what to do! I’ll murder them dead!”
Mobei Jun rolls his eyes. “Dramatic,” he mutters, ruffling Shang Qinghua’s hair.
“I’m not! I-” Shang Qinghua lets out a shaky breath, somehow managing to look Mobei Jun in the eye. He forces a smile. “I just want you to be happy.”
“What are you doing Saturday?” Mobei Jun asks, voice soft, almost fond.
“Nothing. Why? That’s the wedding day, right? Did you want to go over the steps again?”
Mobei Jun’s fond expression turns into an affectionate smirk. His knee taps against Shang Qinghua’s.
“What?”
“Do you have a suit?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s old but it still fits so I haven’t gotten rid of it- Wait.” Shang Qinghua points at himself. “You want to take me?”
Mobei Jun’s affectionate smirk somehow becomes even more affectionate.
“Me? Seriously? Are you joking, because I-”
“Stop talking.” Mobei Jun claps a hand over Shang Qinghua’s mouth. “I’m completely serious. Do you want to go?”
Shang Qinghua nods slowly, resisting the urge to lick Mobei Jun’s palm.
“Good.” Mobei Jun removes his hand.
“But seriously, me? Are you absolutely sure?”
Mobei Jun rolls his eyes, mutters something that sounds like ‘you’re so fucking stupid’, and stands to leave. Shang Qinghua slumps into the couch, his eyebrows pinching together in an attempt to not cry-
He buries his face in his hands again.
(Nice going! Chance ruined! Now Mobei Jun will never-)
Mobei Jun pats his head and Shang Qinghua looks up to see a rare, genuine smile across the man’s face. He squeaks when Mobei Jun places a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Tomorrow?” Mobei Jun asks, gently stroking Shang Qinghua’s cheek.
“O-okay. I mean, we probably can’t practice, but, yeah. I’ll be here…”
Mobei Jun hums and saunters out of his apartment, the door latching quietly behind him. Shang Qinghua snatches up his phone.
Airplane: BRO WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TELL ME
Airplane: I HATE U SO FUKKIN MUCH
Airplane: (ง’̀-‘́)ง
Cumbro: Lmaooooooo
Cumbro: Have fun at the wedding, idiot.