Chapter Text
“I like your Skechers.”
For the past hour, all Wei Ying had done was stare at the illustration board on his lap, occasionally glaring at the graphite pencil clutched in his hand. Inspiration has avoided him like the plague, and it’s so bad that even the one day he had before the deadline isn’t turning on the lightbulbs.
His feet had been nervously tapping on the edge of the coffee table, cross-legged, obnoxious neon lights blinking from his shoes as motion activates it once more. He stares at the man in the navy suit and his damned shoulders and damned steeled gaze.
“Uh...thanks?”
The dark-suited man stares at his shoes, unblinking. Wei Ying tries to not pay attention, but self-consciousness took over and he puts both of his legs down. He directs his eyes back to work, his wrist going over the board to dust off all the eraser shavings littering it. Not too long after, someone clears their throat, demanding his attention.
“Uhm, pardon me for interrupting again, I know you’re quite busy... but where did you get your shoes?”
That was when Wei Ying took in the man’s features. Squinted eyes, a strong jawline, and those shoulders.
Stuttering in the middle of the conversation and his stupid shoulders accentuated by his well-fitted suit was the last thing Wei Ying wanted to happen. A blush crept upon his neck as he forced his mouth to reply.
“I got them from the Skechers pop-up at the mall nearby,” He stumbled out, thankfully, without stuttering.
Wei Ying tilts his head to the side as the man’s brows knit together, clearly confused. They meet eyes once more, and his new crush replies,
“I’m certain I didn’t see that design when I went there this morning. Are they perhaps limited edition?”
It hit Wei Ying that he was referring to the painted graffiti design on his light-up Skechers. Another blush attacked him, this time, it settled on his cheeks, embarrassingly so.
“These are the plain Energy Lights, I customized them,” He answers, head tilting down.
He receives a soft ‘oh’, and that’s his cue to return to the thing that will determine his grade for the first semester.
Hours passed and Wei Ying—finally—made progress and finished the groundwork. It was looking good , thanks to the Adonis who was sitting just a few chairs away from him. He begins to pack up his art materials but was stopped when a hand lands on his shoulder. He stifles a surprised yelp and whips around to face whoever touched him.
Wei Ying comes face to face again with him.
“Hey, I’m really sorry to bother you again... but do you do commissions? For the shoes?” Adonis asks, hand retreating and rising to scratch the side of his neck.
That made Wei Ying smile.
There weren’t too many moments for him to show off the only hobby he has. All of his works always got attention on his social media, but he hasn’t gotten much profit out of it, which was the whole point. Art school isn’t cheap, and in addition: his art style has been told that it looks like a five-year-old made it. His excessive use of materials always took a toll on his pockets.
“Yeah! I have an Instagram account if you want to check out my portfolio.”
“Do you have extra time today?”
Head tilted to the side, Wei Ying reluctantly nods, placing his bag down. He sits once again, and his potential boyfriend–client, rather, sits across him. Wei Ying pulls out his phone, immediately directing it to his Instagram account to show his work.
The guy certainly didn’t look like someone who would wear neon, judging by his outfit: a navy two-piece suit and a neatly pressed pussy-bow shirt. He’d bet that he was wearing Oxfords, too.
“I’m sorry if I’m troubling you... I’m kind of in a bind, finding shoes like yours,” He starts, giving Wei Ying a worried stare.
“No worries, I’m kind of glad you noticed my shoes,” He lets out a chuckle, hand reaching out to tuck a hair behind his ear.
“Oh, I’m Wei Ying, by the way,” His hand shot out, and he wears the best smile he could muster without looking flustered.
“Lan Zhan.”
“They’re actually for a gift...I was wondering if you could do something inspired by this? With all the lights, of course.”
Wei Ying is now looking at a picture of Nike Air Force Ones, painted to look like a donut. The hot pink glaze was dripping from the bottom of the logo, sprinkles surrounding the shoe.
“Yup. I sure can do.”
“Two of these, one pink and one blue.”
A few awkward laughs later, Lan Zhan has followed him on his Instagram, and Wei Ying has two weeks to placate his client’s TikTok-crazed nephew.
—
“I like your Skechers, you like me my Gucci shoes!”
I swear to God.
If Lan Zhan hears Lan Jingyi sing that godforsaken song again, he was going to rip his hair out. He just got back from school, for heaven’s sake.
“Jingyi!” He reprimands in the softest but sternest tone he could muster, preventing yet another earworm.
The kid goes silent, avoiding eye contact, yet still, looks so unbothered like he hadn’t been yelled at. On normal days, Lan Zhan was neutral with the kid. Tolerating his violent dancing on Lan Zhan’s old Wii, Jingyi’s loud voice as he showers, singing the most random of songs as Xichen baked them cookies in the background.
As much as he loves his brother’s beloved son that he has to babysit way too often, whom he treats as his own, too, Lan Zhan needs rest.
“You know, Uncle, if you promise to buy me one of those light-up Skechers with all those cool designs, I’d actually shut up for a bit.” Jingyi cheekily offers, eyes and hands tinkering his uncle’s game console.
“I’d actually consider it if you decide to turn 10 years old with manners.”
“Also, I don’t even know where to get those.” He ends the conversation, throwing the kid a sarcastic blank stare.
In about a month, he’ll be having a birthday party at some sketchy roller-skating rink littered with neon lights that Xichen rented. Lan Zhan is pretty sure he booked it so the adults–Mingjue and Huaisang, terrible drinking duo that they are–could drink till death when the kids go home. If it meant till death we drink, the entire friend group was more than willing to act as chaperones.
Jingyi had been way too annoying lately, never shutting up with the song he found from TikTok—an app Lan Zhan finds extremely entertaining yet so dumb sometimes—and demanding he got shoes with migraine-inducing neon lights, and a matching eye-burning design.
As soon as Xichen arrived home, Lan Zhan rushed out to escape the babysitting hell. He finds himself at the coffee shop just below his brother’s apartment, only an elevator ride away, his bag haphazardly thrown across one of his shoulders. He sits down at his usual spot, middle of the rows of low tables beside the window.
The coffee’s not that good, but it gave him the quiet time and peer pressure he needed to start studying. The only thing that makes him come back was the ambiance, the heavenly coconut turnovers, and his crush.
Yes.
Lan Zhan isn’t the type to pine over his crushes. He’d always describe himself as straightforward, and just get everything over with. He knows what he wants. Over his high school years, he’d confessed to every single one he had. No hard feelings, though. Only two of those made it to a relationship...and they didn’t last.
Most of his little butterflies start with physical attraction.
Horrible, I know.
You can’t get to know someone’s heart that early on, so you’d just have to settle with their freckles and messy hair and sweater paws and hands that seem to be always covered in graphite and—
He knows he got it bad.
He must’ve been dumb, or just intentionally avoiding Jingyi’s birthday pleas. It has only crossed Lan Zhan’s mind, that yes, he does know where to get those shoes.
His happy crush is, he assumes, an art student. Unlike all the others that have laptops and highlighters, it was always a pencil wrapped in watermelon-print washi tape, and either an illustration board or his worn, moleskin sketchbook the same color as his storm grey eyes.
Thank you, Lan Jingyi, for your birth.
The only thing keeping him from making a move was because Wei Ying was always doing something. As much as he doesn’t like to be bothered while doing work, he also doesn’t want to trouble others, too.
But he really had to shoot his shot, both for Jingyi and his dry love life.
He’s painfully aware that Wei Ying had painted the “born free” and paint splatters, but Lan Zhan needed to prolong the conversation instead of just straight-up asking for his number.
Which, in the end, he didn’t get.
He’d have to settle for the good ol’ slide into the artist’s DMS.
—
As if the Gods and Goddesses of art and productivity have blessed him, Wei Ying had already drafted the design in just two days. He quickly snapped a picture, sending it to Lan Zhan.
washiweiwei: [photo]
washiweiwei: Here’s a little progress update! :)
—
A sudden ping from his phone distracted Lan Zhan from watching Mean Girls.
washiweiwei has sent you a dm
He scrambles for Huaisang snacking in their kitchen, movie paused, “Huaisang, I need your help.”
He shows him his phone screen, sitting down beside him at the island.
“Help me flirt.”
Huaisang chokes.
“For fuck’s sake, Lan-xiong, warn me next time!” He blurts out, orange juice still dripping from his chin. Huaisang grabs the black fan he had placed on the counter.
“Why would I need to warn you to wingman me?”
“Why do I need to wingman you?” Huaisang retorts, fan opening to cover his face.
“You know I can’t convey my thoughts that well through texts. Also, you always try to marry me off whenever we go to a bar,” Huaisang sips his drink once more, waving Lan Zhan off and walking over to the couch.
“Come on,” As his final resort, Lan Zhan begs.
Nie Huaisang inwardly barfs.
But, thankfully, he grabs Lan Zhan’s phone, grumbling about a cheesecake after all this. Lan Zhan notices a slight raise in Huaisang's eyebrows as he sees the recipient, but it is followed by the snap of a fan and Huaisang's determined gaze.
“Watch and learn, Lan Wangji.”
bluezhan: Good morning! thanks for the pic. they look so nice already!
“Is this your gift for Jingyi? He’s a great artist.” Huaisang asks. Lan Zhan just answers it with a quick nod.
washiweiwei: np :)
bluezhan: I really like your art style have lol have I ever mentioned that
washiweiwei: hahahahaha uve said u like my skechers ig
bluezhan: that i like you ;)
“Huaisang, what the hell?” Lan Zhan scrambles for his phone, only for the Huaisang to pinch him in the arm.
“You said you needed me to wingman!”
“That’s going to make things awkward when we meet again!”
Lan Zhan knew that he wouldn’t have the face to meet the guy in person again.
—
Wei Ying was a blushing mess the whole evening.
Yanli had helped him reply to some of the blatant flirtatious replies when he couldn’t take it anymore.
It was just full of cringe pick-up lines and past Wei Ying would swear on his life that he’d block anyone that sent him that. But, the little comments on his art were the ones that made him go on.
For the most part, he wasn’t even sure if this was the man he met. He’d expected him to be closed-off and definitely not this obnoxiously flirty. He looked like he didn’t even know what emojis and a “lol” were! Wei Ying was supposed to be the flirt. Wei Ying was supposed to be the one sending cringe-kill-me-now pick-up lines instead of whoever this Lan Zhan was. The conversation halted when Wei Ying had to eat dinner, Yanli teasing and bugging him with a fork. Oh, how he had prayed for Jiang Cheng to be at home instead.
While he was dumping his dishes in the sink, his phone notifies him of a message once again.
bluezhan: I have a confession.
washiweiwei: ??????? uh,,,,,, it’s,,, too,,, soon??? idk????
washiweiwei: block button lookin’ real tasty
bluezhan: I actually l had someone help me with the conversation earlier. I swear I’m not that creepy :(
A sad face? A Sad Face? Wei Ying could vividly picture Lan Zhan wearing a pout on his stupidly well-moisturized lips, and oh boy .
bluezhan: No? You’re my happy crush. But... I mean... if you want to?
washiweiwei: did your friend type that
bluezhan: Sadly, no. He’s busy sleeping right after eating. He is my brother-in-law.
washiweiwei: oh
bluezhan: Thank you for entertaining me. I think it’s too late and we should go to sleep. Hoping to see you tomorrow :)
washiweiwei: gn! <3
Wei Ying didn’t know what kind of demon possessed him to add a fucking heart, but it is what it is.