Chapter Text
Chongyun blames his bad luck on the kind of crowd he attracts. The kind of crowd that is loud, fiery, and never permits him a moment of solitude.
Or he can blame Xiangling for pushing the crowd towards him.
They were both neighbors ever since they were kids, friends ever since she was the only one who would talk to him due to his family’s line of profession, and enemies ever since she made him a rice cracker (usually crunchy, quite bland, a little sweet) which was in fact, not bland nor sweet (but still crunchy). For some reason, she decided that mixing chili flakes in the batter would be a great idea, which led to him diving into the nearby lakes all day long and disrupting the local fish.
Her parents apologized to his parents, his parents had to apologize to the neighborhood association. So maybe they aren't enemies per se, but they have a fostered friendship that included him trying to exorcise her once during a sleepover by placing a slip of protective paper charm on her forehead. In return, she smacked his forehead with a wooden spoon and made him work in her family’s kitchen for a day.
However, the past is in the past, and now they are both roommates just trying to make it through their junior year.
Chongyun only signed up to be living with one roommate.
He never expected Xiangling to suddenly be dating, let alone dating three people. Tao never seems to leave their couch, Xinyan loves to play music during the godless hours after midnight, and Yanfei never seems to be able to pick up her books. There's even a pile in progress by the bathroom sink. They're not all that bad, even if they always ask him to sneak out drinks after work. Groceries are cheaper with all of them splitting it and dinner is never quiet. He wouldn't even mind if the next year they signed in a grand house with all five of them.
Thus, that is how Chongyun became the lesbian polycule protector and the founder of the “Victims of Lesbian Polycule Alliance”.
But he's not sure if he can blame Xiangling for the next crowd he attracts.
-
The incident happened at work.
Chongyun is a simple university student; he is on the pre-med track and has been working at a bubble tea store ever since his freshman year. It’s a nice job, a fifteen minute walk from his apartment and he gets a free drink each shift (which often doesn't go to him). The cons include wearing an ugly bright blue polyester shirt that scratches his skin and he can’t change the music, so he has to listen to Jay Chou ballads on repeat, courtesy of his manager. He's also been working at this store for almost three years and still does the closing shift; he's been asking for days to be scheduled on the opening shift instead. He's always been more of a morning person—but nope, he's somehow stuck working Sunday nights.
He walks in with his battered white sneakers to work, his hoodie barely fighting off the cold of early March. The sky has been a clear blue lately, parting with the clouds of winter, but it seems that the wind hasn’t gotten the memo of spring yet. The cold inhale almost hurts his nose, but to Chongyun it's more refreshing than anything else. The crisp air purifies his lungs with each breath, not too many people walking due to the cold, and patches of flower buds beginning to sprout on trees. Time is slow on the way to work. It's the perfect weather for him.
Chongyun greets his co-worker, a blond girl with pigtails. Her name is Barbara or something, she's new but seems nice enough. After he clocks in, he starts the dull cycle of preparing various teas, stirring the tapioca pearls, and watching the shakers go shakeshakeshake over and over again. He catches his reflection on the shiny surface of the tea dispensers and remembers one of the worst parts of this job. His hat that reads 'tea-licious' embroidered on the top. An ugly bright blue, matching his shirt. Barbara makes it look somewhat cute, but he feels awkward at every angle.
The after-dinner-dessert rush passes by quickly, ending with Chongyun pressing his forehead against the cooler. He's sweating so much from doing the little dance of syrup, drink, toppings. And he hates sweating. If there’s one thing he despises, it’s being any kind of hot. The ugly shirt uncomfortably rubs against his skin. It feels like he's walking on acupuncture slippers. He really needs to get new shoes, his Walmart sneakers aren't helping anybody.
"So... how was your week?" Barbara eventually asks in the quiet lull. The clock reads half-past ten. They're so close to ending their Sunday shift. Soon, Chongyun thinks.
“It was okay,” he replies, exhaling. He knows that his face is probably all red from the rush. "I'm kind of behind on some of my lectures, how about you?"
“There’s a concert coming up! I’m pretty excited about it.” She says, drawing circles on the tabletop with a cloth. “You said you’re a bio major, right, how is—”
The door chimes interrupt their conversation as a burst of people walk in.
A bitter taste finds itself on the tip of Chongyun's tongue as he thinks of the idea of having to cater to this many people this near closing. But it's not an idea—it's the reality he currently lives in. He sends a silent prayer to the heavens that no one comes after them. It’s a group of about seven people, a loud bunch as they ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at the menu. He wonders if they’ve ever been here before.
It's probably a family; the way the older people make their way to the lounge chairs as a lean-looking boy and two girls huddle around the menu. They all seem to be taller than most people, but it's probably due to how they all carry themselves with proper posture. The boy is wearing a nice navy coat that fits properly, not too loose or tight. Slacks. Fancy shoes. One of the girls is in a brown coat adorned with a collection of brooches (Chongyun would say pins, but what kind of pin has that many jewels and detail?) with her hair curled elegantly behind her. The other is taller with high heeled boots and a designer black bag that Yanfei says she doesn't want but always mentions the brand at every opportunity. Ah, of course, rich people.
The boy turns to face the register, his styled hair framing gold eyes that look directly into Chongyun's. He averts his gaze and Chongyun vaguely registers that the boy is sort of cute. He hopes that the breathlessness he just experienced was just a fluke or an outcome of the exhaustion from earlier. Maybe one of the other girls is his girlfriend. They're probably close if they have their family with them.
They come up to the register, both of the girls standing on each side of the other boy. Chongyun stumbles when he says,
“Hi, what can I get for you today?”
The boy smiles, “Hello, can we first get two oolong milk teas with half sugar and light ice.”
“Any toppings?” Chongyun asks.
“Ah—”
“Qiu'er, she doesn't want anything on it,” one of the girls says next to him.
“...Jiějiě, I told you to stop calling me that.” The boy smiles, but Chongyun notices that he looks like he swallowed a lemon. Chongyun can't really multitask and his Chinese has never been the best, but he allows himself a smile. Siblings. “Okay, then can we also get a peach yogurt drink, half sugar, extra ice with-”
"Crystal boba," the other girl says.
“With crystal boba," the boy finishes with a flourish.
Chongyun nods, typing in the order, and asks, “Is that all?”
The boy smiles, hands out in an apologetic manner, “Haha, not quite. We also have…”
And they continue to order ten different drinks with varying ice and sugar levels, various amounts of toppings for each. The boy keeps apologizing in the middle of their ten-minute order at the register, the girls around him keep laughing, and poor, poor Barbara (still very new) stumbles in the back with each new drink. Right before closing too.
(The order includes: a hot brown tea, a taro milk tea, a peach green tea, another yakult drink, etc.)
At the end of the order, the boy says one more time, “I’m really sorry about this,” his hand held up in apology. Chongyun nods, he doesn't really know this boy at all, but standing by the register for several minutes can really lead you to some intimate moments. His eyes catch on the dangly blue earring on the boy's right ear.
“Don’t worry about it,” Chongyun replies, grabbing some of the empty cups to go and help Barbara, “It’s no problem.”
Soon enough, the drinks are out, Barbara slumped on the back chair. The pretty boy grabs the drinks for the group and right before they all walk out, he turns around and waves, "Thank you!"
Ah. The best kinds of farewells. Chongyun always falls a little bit in love with nice customers who say "thank you" and "take your time".
But the family leaves too soon for either Chongyun or Barbara to reply with, ‘have a nice day!’. They came and went just like a whirlwind, leaving a mess of shaker cups and spilled teas on the counter. They both hurry through the closing tasks and Chongyun feels like his legs might give out on the walk home. He sends another quick text to his manager, reminding them can you please schedule me on the morning shifts? and passes out in his bed until Xiangling places a cold towel on his forehead so he can eat something.
-
Chongyun forgets all about the incident.
Cute boy or not, Chongyun isn't the type of person to remember the faces of people he doesn't know. He's barely awake for some of his classes, he missed his morning run on Tuesday, and there's an upcoming exam, but it's fine. It's fine. TLDR; He doesn't have time to think about a boy he saw for like twenty minutes at work last Sunday.
But the sun doesn't wait for anybody and seven days pass since that fateful day.
Sunday afternoon comes again. A clear blue sky accompanied with a chill. White torn sneakers on the pavement. Greeting Barbara. Topping, ice, sugar, tea, shake. As the shaker machine moves back and forth, Chongyun really hopes this isn't the peak of his life. He would hate to be trapped in the barren wasteland of confectionary teas and stupid people.
A guy came in earlier and asked, "Hey, what's the sizes here again?"
Chongyun carefully looks at the huge menu plastered on the wall, which shows the sizes at the corner with an illustration and everything. He replies in a deadpan, "We have a regular and large. The difference is 75 cents."
"Okay, cool. Can you like, get the cups out and put them next to each other."
Chongyun raises his eyebrow but does it anyway. Takes the plastic cups and places them side by side in front of the man.
"Woah, that's like a big difference," The guy nods. "Well, probably next time. I was just looking, thanks!"
And the man leaves the store, back to the no man's land between the various food joints and bustling food delivery drivers. Chongyun stares longingly at the door, contemplating if he really wants to spend his years stuck in a square tea store or if he too wants to be part of the outside world.
Thirty minutes until close—he and Barbara are just about to start cleaning their stations when the foreboding ding! of doors opening rings through.
Chongyun drags himself to the register. A group of people walks in. He feels his eyes water a little.
Half of them go to sit down and some kids go check the menu. A boy with pretty blue hair and two girls next to him. They look vaguely familiar.
When the boy comes closer, gold eyes meeting blue, he begins by saying, "We will first have two oolong milk teas with half sugar and light ice."
And the order goes on and on (a black sugar milk tea, peach green tea, an Oreo smoothie, etc.) while Chongyun nods in remembrance. Ah, the family that came in last week and ordered a dozen drinks with a cute boy. Just as they did then, the boy lists the varying drinks as his sisters continue to add their input every few seconds.
Chongyun logs in the drinks in a patient, albeit tired manner. It’s not that he particularly minds the family in front of him, they’re actually really considerate of his time as a cashier. The cute boy keeps apologizing for the amount of drinks they’re ordering and Chongyun replies no, it’s okay, don’t worry, trying his best to keep the tiredness out of his voice. He really doesn't want to sound rude to the nice family; it’s just that it’s a closing shift on Sunday and all he wants to do is lay down.
He also confirms his thought that they must have some kind of money: First, because they’re ordering this amount of boba, and second to wear such a fancy coat in the middle of their run-down college town. When they’re done ordering and the boy waits for his card (black in color) to be processed, he looks up, and asks in a gentle voice, “Hey, your name is Chongyun, correct?”
Chongyun.exe freezes as he waits for the receipt to come out.
“Uhm,” He says after a minute, heat climbing up his neck like he’s wearing an ugly blue uniform and his face is super rough right now why does this cute boy know — “Yeah, that’s me. And here’s your receipt.”
Their hands briefly touch, the boy smiling—Chongyun is certain the tips of his ears are red. He can’t tell what kind of expression his face is making, but he’s biting his lips to make sure nothing embarrassing escapes his lips.
The boy replies, “Thank you!” and walks away, leaving Chongyun alone with his mini-meltdown.
Just as last week, the boy grabs the drinks for the group and waves “Bye!” one last time before they leave the shop, which makes Chongyun’s heart skip a beat, but that happens to any customer that waves at him before they leave.
The moment the door shuts, Chongyun turns immediately to Barbara, heart pounding dangerously, “Is it weird that he knows my name?”
Barbara blinks at him owlishly. "Huh? You know them?” Barbara asks, getting ready to wipe the counters. Ah yes, closing, how could he forget.
“No, no.” Chongyun inhales. “He just knew my name and I never told him. He came last week, I remember because they ordered a bunch of drinks around this time too. But isn’t it weird that he knows a cashier’s name?”
“I guess,” Barbara replies, still looking at him warily. "But my friend Noelle also knows all the lunch ladies' names at the cafeteria. So maybe it’s not that weird?”
“Yeah,” Chongyun says, even though he doesn’t believe it because he’s certain that he’s only seen that boy once before. He’s not sure to be weirded out or flattered, but he still feels his cheeks flush a little because he knows my name despite my ugly shirt and blotchy face? He winces as he presses a cheek against the cooler, breathing deeply to try and calm his overworking heart. "Sure."
-
Cute Boy and co. come again the next Sunday, gold eyes saying, "Thank you, Chongyun," after their order. And the next. Four Sunday nights, minutes before closing, the family never fails to chime the doors open and simultaneously make Chongyun's knees threaten to give out due to exhaustion and exhilaration. He starts blushing when the clock strikes ten-thirty like Pavlov's drooling dog. His mind seems to go blank during these few minutes, trying not to stumble when fingers almost brush when passing a receipt.
Chongyun decided that he's had enough. He's had enough of this boy who somehow knows Chongyun's name and can make a heart wrecking, speech fumbling mess out of him and Chongyun doesn't know him either! It's so messed up on so many levels. Why? Why does this boy remember him? Chongyun knows he doesn't look the best at work; he's been slouching and dragging his feet ever since the halfway mark of the semester hit. Sweat dripping down his neck, sticky hands, scarlet face (from drink rushes or cute boy—who knows). If the cute boy is remembering Chongyun because he looks horrible at work he might as well just quit and run away to the ends of the cornfields and be haunted by ghosts for the rest of his life.
This whole situation has been too much of an overload for Chongyun's poor brain (and heart) to handle. The moment he clicks the door open to his apartment, the comforting aroma of garlic and onion turning their place into a home, he decides it's time to spill the metaphorical tea to Xiangling.
"Hi!" She smiles, "How was work?"
On most days, Chongyun would reply with 'good' and head to the showers so he can pass out on his bed. Gold eyes. Oh, Chongyun is a gone man. Today is not like most days. He takes off his 'tea-licious' hat and runs his hands down his face, "I'll tell you after I shower."
"Oooh, that's a heavy sigh," Xiangling taps once, twice on the pan and giggles excitedly. Chongyun stares at his torn-up shoes and asks himself, man, should I really tell her, but she's been the devil on his right shoulder for years and there's really nothing he can do about it.
Chongyun sighs and gestures to the pot, "What is it?"
"Fried rice." She replies.
"Just fried rice?"
Xiangling is silent for a moment, but points at him with the wooden spoon, "Okay, I added peanut butter, but like, who doesn't add peanut butter? It's not weird, people just think it's weird because they don't know that it's actually a very common thing to add!"
Chongyun shrugs and walks away.
"You should really trust me by now, seriously!"
"No." Chongyun shuts the bathroom door.
-
"So, what happened?" Xiangling asks, sitting across the table from him. She puts a plate in front of him that doesn't have steam coming out of it. It seems that she hasn't touched her food either.
"Did you put ice cubes in the rice?" Chongyun asks instead, scrubbing his hair with the towel he left on his shoulders. The television flickers. He shudders at the thought of potentially soggy fried rice.
"That happened once!" Xiangling rolls her eyes and pokes at the rice. "I put it in the fridge, you loser. You’re the one who likes it cold. Whatever, what happened at work?"
"Well... The last few weeks this guy's been coming in at work..." Chongyun recounts the story of not really caring about the boy at first and how he only vaguely remembered him in the first place because his rich family kept ordering a bunch of drinks when they were about to close. Like, sure, he is cute, but Chongyun would've forgotten him if not for the fact he knows Chongyun's name despite him never telling the stranger. "How is that even possible? He's been coming over every Sunday night and I always get too flustered when I'm around him and like why is he doing this?" Chongyun rushes out in a single breath.
Xiangling nods, eyes closed like a wise sage, "It kind of sounds like a movie."
"Or like a documentary of a serial killer trying to murder me," Chongyun munches on his rice. "It's nice? But wouldn't some people find it weird he knows my name?"
"Isn't your name on the receipt?"
"But who looks at that?!"
"I guess serial killers," Xiangling shrugs, which doesn’t exactly make Chongyun feel better. "Or he could like you. Aren't rich people supposed to be eccentric, anyway? You probably left a good impression on him."
"But I always look so gross at work," Chongyun protests, pulling the damp towel over his forehead. "Like, my face gets super red and I just feel sticky. There's no way someone like him could even look at me like that."
The girl is silent for a while, but she scoots herself on the floor closer to him and scoops his cheeks in her hands. "That's just how the food industry is and don't even say that! You're as cute as a dumpling."
"Ugh." Is all Chongyun says back.
"Serious," Xiangling shakes his head up and down. "And it seems like he left a good impression on you too."
Chongyun narrows his eyes, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I didn't add any spice and you're super red and talking almost as fast as me," Xiangling lets go of him and giggles. "He must get you heated up, huh."
He falls on his back and meets the cool wooden floor beneath him. He brings his hands to cover his face as his hair, "Do you think you could get me a cold glass of water?"
Xiangling rolls her eyes and musses up his spread hair, "Sure. But you know you're never going to know unless you talk to him, right?"
Chongyun stays silent as he lays on the floor.
"Are you?"
"...I'll ask him why he knows my name."
The girl prods him, "Perfect. Now go clean the dishes so we can watch this true crime documentary and pass out."
Chongyun grumbles something about is this why you made me work at your family restaurant and makes his way to the sink. The documentary is a short one, about an English writer who disappeared. The television flickers, mounted way too high for them that they have to strain their necks to see it. It's amazing how something simple like a couch is often taken for granted, but neither he nor Xiangling thought it was necessary when moving in. Now they sit on the floor by their low table and look up at awkward angles to see the screen. Chongyun doesn't mind too much because it's cold but maybe they should invest in a couch.
A midnight surprise pops in during their documentary: Chongyun's phone lights up in his lap. He hates texting and has turned all of his notifications off, so he raises his eyebrows when a message from his boss pops up. Xiangling makes a questioning sound next to him.
Above them, the episode is just about to come to a close and reveal that the hosts believe the author disappeared at her own choice to escape highbrow society.
Chongyun should've expected it, really. This was his own doing. His endless reminders to take him off the closing shift have seemed to work. His bad luck seems to never let him rest. Xiangling leans beside him and mutters, "Oh, Chongyun."
No more Sunday closing shifts. Chongyun puts his head in his hands. No more cute rich boy either.
-
He goes to work the next day, bright and early, crisp morning air tickling his nose. He’s finally gotten the one thing he’s been wanting for the last few months. The revered morning shift.
If Chongyun mopes the entire weekend, he doesn’t care, one—because he’s not moping, no matter what Xiangling says. And two, even if he is , it's not like it’s undeserved. And he wouldn’t say he’s sad , he just doesn’t feel like giving Xiangling his free work drinks. He works hard for his oreo smoothie with extra milk foam and double servings of boba. And he doesn’t really feel like getting up in the mornings and can’t stop bothering Xiangling at dinner, sighing longingly at their beautiful sunshine filled window.
“Xiangling, do you think he forgot about me…”
“Do you think if I saw him on campus he would recognize me?”
“I wonder which drink he orders…”
Three days later, Xiangling drags him out of bed, uncaring of his tangled up hair and wraps the blanket around him for modesty. Chongyun attempts to protest by pushing the fabrics clinging to his naked chest, but she says, “Shut up,” and brings him outside where three other girls sit around the table.
Now, Chongyun isn’t scared of a lot of things. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a little bit scared of Xiangling’s girlfriends altogether.
"You may be wondering why I have gathered you all here today," Xiangling declares, pounding a fist on the table.
Chongyun tucks his knees closer to his chest, trying to make himself look as small as possible. Sure, maybe he does have bad luck (exhibit A: somehow getting another weirdo in his life, exhibit B: somehow losing contact with said weirdo before he can even ask how he knows Chongyun's name)—but he can still try and blame this emergency meeting on Xiangling. Four sets of fiery eyes surround him. He gulps.
Xinyan shrugs. "Are you going to tell us?"
"It probably has something to do with ice boy, over here," Tao adds.
"Is this really necessary?" Yanfei says.
"Yes." Xiangling nods and looks at Chongyun. "Would you like to testify your side of the story or do you need someone to speak on your behalf?"
Chongyun freezes. Since when did they put him on a witness stand? He slowly turns his head towards Yanfei, who is leaning forward and has her eyes lit towards the chef. He stays silent in horror because what did this law student do with the real Xiangling and how can he get her back.
Xiangling takes his silence as a response and begins speaking, "Long story short, a cute boy has been coming to work every Sunday evening and somehow recognizes Chongyun at work and knows his name. The defendant was going to ask the cute boy what's up and maybe on a date, however, he is no longer scheduled Sunday evenings. The goal of today's meeting is what should we do next with the defendant now. He's been brooding all week—"
"I have not been brooding!"
"And I'm not exactly sure what his next step should be. Hence, this meeting." Xiangling finishes by playfully smacks Chongyun's head.
Chongyun was about to comment how Yanfei's eyes are shining a bit too much for his liking, with her hands hovering by her mouth as she marvels at Xiangling, but Tao interrupts with a gaggle of laughter.
"Haha, ice boy has a crush?" Tao snickers behind her ring-clad hands. "That's embarrassing."
"Tao, you had a crush on all of us."
"And what about it?" Tao grins at Xinyan, "Don't look at me like that, Yun'er."
"Be quiet, Walnut."
"That's so uncreative, boy, we really need to work on your nicknames."
"Well, we really need to work on your personality—"
"Anyway!" Xinyan claps them both on the shoulder, gripping a bit too harshly. "Let's get back to the situation. Chongyun, what do you want?"
Chongyun knits his eyebrows, "Isn't that why we're all gathered here?"
"Alas, no!" Yanfei interjects, nodding with her eyes closed. "Chongyun, do you want to try and find this person or do you just want to shrug it off? Because what we do depends on your wishes. I'd hate to try and push something down your throat like this, but it is pretty hard to find someone on campus, maybe we should just visit the tea shop one Sunday evening? Or is that too embarrassing—"
"Ah!" Chongyun interrupts, both his hands in the air to try and stop the girl from rambling. He can feel heat crawl in his neck. "No, it's okay. Wouldn't it be weird to just wait for someone to come in? And just because he’s been coming regularly doesn’t mean he will come again..."
“Of course, the hot hand fallacy, I’ve taught you well,” Yanfei nods. It’s a beat before she decides to speak again, “So, you think this boy is cute. But you don't have a way to find him."
Chongyun nods very slowly.
"And you're not working Sunday closing anymore."
"Yes."
"And you don't want to," Tao interjects.
An image of a long line of people flashes before his eyes. Tea stains spilling. Another morning run missed because he overslept. Chongyun nods through gritted teeth. "Not really."
Yanfei hums and takes a look at everyone else, besides Chongyun. It's like he's intruding on something. "Well, girls. I believe there is only one thing left to do."
Tao stands up and claps the other girl's hand, "You've read my mind, my smoky sexy goddess."
Xinyan also adds her hands, "We haven't had one in a while, so count me in! I'm excited to show you guys this thing I've been working on!"
"Xiangling," Chongyun mutters while reaching for the chef's arm. "What are they talking about? I think if we get a head start we can make a run for it..."
But she’s no help either, as Chongyun watches terrifyingly, as his best friend stands up to join her girlfriends, "You're all absolutely right!"
Chongyun stares at the lesbian polycule. He wonders if the goosebumps forming on his forearms are just his imagination. His leg starts bouncing up and down, maybe he should run for it alone. All his bad luck seems to culminate into this moment and he can probably blame this all on Xiangling.
"Chongyun!" Xiangling exclaims, hands spread like she's welcoming him into hell and maybe she is. He really should've exorcised her properly when they were younger or maybe she's being influenced by Tao, who definitely is possessed by a demon. "We're going to have a party!"