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“Where did you get that pen?”
“Huh?” Wei Ying blinked, and the pen fell from where he’d been balancing it between his nose and upper lip. He scrambled to catch it as it bounced off his chest, grabbing it out of the air just before it hit the ground.
Ignoring this, Nie Huaisang leaned across the space between their desks. “Where did you buy it? It’s so cute.”
“Oh, it’s not mine. It is cute, though.” Wei Ying looked down at the pen in his hand. It was a red ballpoint with a cartoonish little black rabbit sitting on the tip, smiling adorably. He’d been using it to doodle in his textbook for most of the class.
“Did you borrow it from your sister?”
“Nah, jiejie likes flowery stuff, not rabbits.”
“It’s not Jiang Cheng’s, is it?” Nie Huaisang asked in a stage whisper. As Wei Ying snickered, Jiang Cheng turned around in his seat in front of them, glaring at them.
“I heard my name. Why are you two talking about me?”
Wei Ying rolled his eyes and waved a hand at him. “Nothing, nothing. It’s fine.”
Jiang Cheng gave him the stink eye for a moment longer, then let out a hmph and turned back around.
Wei Ying made a face at the back of his head, then turned back to Nie Huaisang. “I borrowed it from Lan Zhan, actually.” As usual, Wei Ying had forgotten to bring at least something to school with him. Today, it happened to be a pen (and all other stationery). Since Lan Zhan was freakishly responsible, Wei Ying knew he would never forget anything he needed and would no doubt have a pen, a spare pen, and even a spare spare pen. He just hadn’t expected them to be bunny-themed.
Nie Huaisang, who had been fanning himself lazily with his notebook, froze. “Lan Zhan? Really? He has cutesy pens like that?”
“Yeah. He had a few different colours.” Wei Ying gestured over at Lan Zhan, who habitually sat in the front row. “Look, he’s using a blue one with a little white rabbit on it.”
“Where did he get pens like that? Why did he get pens like that?”
“I dunno. Go ask him?” Wei Ying suggested, as he went back to drawing the wings of the dragon he’d doodled earlier.
“He’s not going to tell me,” Nie Huaisang whined. “What am I supposed to do?”
Wei Ying shrugged, out of ideas. Nie Huaisang sighed before evidently deciding to bite the bullet and approach their more aloof classmate. He returned less than a minute later, as Wei Ying put the finishing touches on a badass pair of wings with claws. “How’d it go?” he asked, as he looked up. “Did he tell you?”
“He gave me a Biro,” Nie Huaisang pouted, morosely poking the pen back and forth on the desk. “When I asked about the bunny pens, he just said he didn’t remember. He didn’t even try to think about it. And he obviously had more. I saw them. Why did I get this stupid, boring pen when you got a cute one?”
Wei Ying twisted the pen between his fingers, unsure what to say. He didn’t get what the big deal was over a pen, but he knew Nie Huaisang had a tendency to lean toward the dramatic, so decided to venture a theory. “Maybe it’s because you don’t know each other very well?”
“We do,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Our older brothers are, y’know, friends. We’ve known each other for years. He still only talks to me when it’d be rude not to. He’s different with you.”
Wei Ying waved that away. “I dunno about that. He used to ignore me all the time. We just have a lot of the same classes and we’re in the orchestra together, so I guess I just wore him down over time. He’s really nice, deep down.”
Nie Huaisang was still pouting like a child denied his favourite treat, so Wei Ying decided to drop it for now. He made a mental note to ask Lan Zhan about it again later and hoped to jog his memory. He noted Nie Huaisang refused to use the Biro out of stubbornness, choosing a chewed ballpoint pen he dug out of his pocket instead.
At the end of class, Wei Ying ended up taking both pens back to Lan Zhan. He forgot to ask about the bunny pens’ origins.
~*~
Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were the last to leave rehearsals.
It was normal for Lan Zhan to leave after everyone else. He routinely volunteered to clean up the room after the rest of the orchestra filed out. It was so normal now that everyone just expected it, and rarely bothered to tidy up after themselves.
Wei Ying didn’t think that was fair at all, but he knew it was senseless to point that out to a bunch of students desperate to escape to freedom, so he often stayed behind on his own to help whenever he could. Looking back, he realised it was probably one of the little gestures that had allowed him to bridge the gap between them.
This evening, they emerged to find it was raining heavily, the kind of thick, slanting sheets of water that made it near impossible to see through. Puddles had long since formed on the ground and the sky was a roiling, steely grey. Wei Ying sighed and pulled his hood up, tugging the drawstrings tight as though they had a chance in hell of keeping the water out.
“Wei Ying?”
“Yeah?” he replied, glaring at the sky.
“You didn’t bring an umbrella?”
Wei Ying had not. He hadn’t brought anything, actually, except what could fit in his pockets and had been easily grabbed on the way out of his apartment that morning. That wasn’t unusual. He went to bed too late to wake up at a reasonable time, so he generally slept in until Jiang Cheng yelled him awake, then he stumbled out into the hall, haphazardly dressed and grossly unprepared for the day ahead.
“Nah, but I’ll be fine. It’s not too far to the bus stop.” He peered through the rain as though he could see his bus stop a few blocks away. “I’m sure I can make it without getting drenched if I run. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Wait.”
“Hm?” Curious, Wei Ying turned to face Lan Zhan. He found an umbrella being held out to him. He took it reflexively, but didn’t open it up. He stared at it in his hands for a moment. “Wait, don’t you need -” The sight of Lan Zhan opening a plain black umbrella cut him off. “Oh. Nevermind, then.”
Wei Ying opened up his umbrella. Peering up at it, he noted it was primarily dark blue with what looked like a white rabbit staring up at the moon on it. Seeing it had a design (and he wasn’t at all surprised it was a bunny), he paused. “Ah, Lan Zhan, don’t you want this pretty rabbit one? I can take that one.”
Lan Zhan shook his head. “It’s no problem. You can return that one when it’s convenient. Are you ready?”
With nothing left he could say, Wei Ying just nodded. Together, they stepped out into the downpour. A few minutes passed in silence, which was Lan Zhan’s preferred state, but was something Wei Ying could never abide for too long without feeling antsy. He grasped for a topic. “So… do you always have two umbrellas in your bag just in case it rains?”
“No,” Lan Zhan replied. “I checked the forecast before I left this morning. It is also the right time of year to expect rain.”
“Right, sure,” Wei Ying agreed. “Makes sense. But why two?”
“You can never be certain when a spare might be needed,” Lan Zhan said primly. He seemed slightly defensive, as though expecting to be ridiculed.
Instead, Wei Ying smiled fondly. “Well, I appreciate it. The drowned rat look is not a good one on me. You’re really dependable, you know that?” Lan Zhan was silent. He just looked at Wei Ying incredulously. Wei Ying laughed nervously, feeling a little foolish all of a sudden. “I just - I mean I can always rely on you to be prepared for anything, y’know? I’ve always really liked that about you.”
“Oh,” Lan Zhan said slowly. “You… like that?”
“Well… yeah?” Wei Ying replied, weakly. He truly wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole right then. What kind of thing was that to say? It made it seem like he only valued Lan Zhan because he was handy, like a Swiss Army Knife or a Boy Scout. Or a Boy Scout with a Swiss Army Knife. Nothing could actually be further from the truth. He liked Lan Zhan for who he was, quirks and all. But how was he meant to say that without it sounding stupid or cheesy?
He was saved when a familiar shape came into view ahead of them. “Ah! It’s my stop. Lan Zhan, which bus are you going to get?” When Lan Zhan inclined his head in one direction, Wei Ying followed it until his eyes fell on another bus stop. “Oh, across the street?” Realisation suddenly dawned on him and his jaw dropped open. “Wait, Lan Zhan, don’t you live in the opposite direction? Why did you walk with me when it took you so far out of your way?”
“It makes little difference getting a bus here or closer to campus.”
“Yeah, but… it’s raining and you didn’t need to get wet just to keep me company. Now I feel kinda bad.”
It was true. If he’d just brought his own umbrella, maybe Lan Zhan wouldn’t have felt somehow obligated to keep him company and make sure he stayed dry on his way home. Because of him, Lan Zhan had wasted his time and neglected himself. Now that he was sheltered by the bus stop, he wanted to give the umbrella back to cause Lan Zhan just a little less trouble, but the clouds above were still almost black and the rain wasn’t stopping any time soon. There was no way he’d accept it yet.
“Don’t,” Lan Zhan said simply, as though that would erase any fault on Wei Ying’s part. “I will see you tomorrow, Wei Ying. Take care.”
“Yeah, take care,” Wei Ying called after Lan Zhan as he quickly crossed the street. He kept watching for an embarrassingly long time, until Lan Zhan’s bus arrived and whisked him away.
~*~
Letting out a long groan, Wei Ying flopped sideways and sprawled out on Lan Zhan’s sofa. Lan Zhan didn’t even look up despite his obvious distress, which Wei Ying felt was quite mean of him. “This is boring,” he complained.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “All the more reason to get it out of the way sooner rather than later.”
“I don’t even know why we’re bothering.”
“This assignment will make up a significant portion of our final grade.”
Wei Ying rolled his eyes, but was unable to deny that. “Yeah, yeah, fine. I’ll do it.”
Pouting, Wei Ying dragged himself back upright and faced his laptop. He glared at the open document on the screen, though it wasn’t actually causing him any real issue. There was just no challenge to it, so the whole thing felt terribly droll. It felt more like he was indexing his knowledge than actually learning. Whenever he approached a project that required little to no brain power, he always found himself rapidly losing interest.
He’d only typed a few sentences when his stomach gurgled, and he shamelessly seized the opportunity with both hands. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you can’t expect me to work under these conditions! I need fuel in the tank,” he insisted. “I could order in - or we could go out to eat. What do you think?”
Recognising defeat for now. Lan Zhan carefully saved his work and closed his laptop. “I can make something.”
Wei Ying’s happy wiggle was entirely genuine. He had no idea how Lan Zhan had ever become so talented, but his cooking was phenomenal! Second only to his jiejie, but there was no contest there - nothing could compare to her soup. It was the ultimate comfort food, and often just thinking about it was enough to make Wei Ying feel a little homesick.
“Really? You’d make me something?” Wei Ying practically beamed, scooting along the sofa to be closer to Lan Zhan. He belatedly remembered his manners. “It’s not too much trouble, is it?”
Lan Zhan shook his head. “No. I prepare much of my food in advance, so I need only to assemble it when I’m ready.”
“Smart,” Wei Ying said, nodding. “Maybe I should do that.”
Even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t. He had fully embraced the chaotic student stereotype, staying up late most nights and existing almost entirely on instant noodles drowned in violently spicy sauce, and he wasn’t likely to change any time soon. Jiang Cheng frequently yelled at him, both for his bad habits and the mess he left in their shared apartment. Their sister frowned at him over Facetime, and threatened to come visit (as if that would convince him to change his habits) and stock their fridge properly if he didn’t eat right.
Lan Zhan paused, looking conflicted. Wei Ying would have been offended if he didn’t know the exact reason why. A few months ago, fuelled by one too many energy drinks and late night YouTube, he might have suddenly decided he was, in fact, a baking whiz, because how hard could it really be? He had yet to accept concrete evidence he was to blame, but there was an alleged connection to the cupcakes he’d shared amongst the orchestra and a record number of absences over the following days.
He didn’t know what everyone had to complain about. Google had assured him chocolate and chilli was a great combination, so was it really his fault?
Wei Ying rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Fine, if everyone’s going to gang up on me, I won’t cook anymore. You’re all wrong, though.”
Lan Zhan sighed. “You do need to eat more healthily. Junk food will not adequately sustain you.”
Wei Ying shrugged, having heard the same argument (louder and more harshly worded) from Jiang Cheng more times than he could count. As if on cue, his stomach growled again. The corner of Lan Zhan’s lips curled up slightly, and he got to his feet to lead the way to the kitchen.
As Lan Zhan took ingredients out of the fridge, Wei Ying looked around. The space was familiar from the many study sessions they’d shared. It was very modern and efficient, monochrome in colour and style, and entirely spotless. Wei Ying spied one new addition: an apron hanging on the door. He noted there was an embroidered rabbit outline on the pocket, and smiled. He imagined Lan Zhan would look cute as hell wearing that while he prepared his food.
He moved closer to peer around Lan Zhan, then wrinkled his nose. “Lan Zhan, I can see an awful lot of green,” he whined.
“It’s healthy,” Lan Zhan said simply.
“Lan Zhan, I know you like bunnies, but do you have to feed me rabbit food? Don’t you have anything spicy?”
Lan Zhan paused shredding his freshly-washed lettuce to gesture toward a cabinet. Intrigued, Wei Ying opened it. On one of the shelves, alongside the expected condiments, were several hot sauces, ranging from sweet chilli to bottles with labels that were almost entirely made of fire. Combined, there had to be millions of Scovilles sitting on that one shelf. Surprised, Wei Ying ducked to be able to see under the cabinet door.
“You don’t like spicy things… Lan Zhan, did you get these just for me?”
Lan Zhan shrugged without comment, but the tips of his ears were red through his hair.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying all but squealed. “That is so sweet of you!”
Lan Zhan remained silent, focusing all his attention on adding the lettuce to two deep, wide dishes, but Wei Ying could see his ears were even redder. Feeling incredibly fond, he leaned against the counter.
“Is there anything I can help with?” he asked, deciding to cut Lan Zhan some slack and stop teasing him. “It’s not fair to make you do all the work.”
“It’s no problem. You are a guest.”
Quickly and efficiently, Lan Zhan cut a neat pile of assorted vegetables, added them to their bowls, and sprinkled sesame seeds on top. Finally, he turned to a small dish with boiled eggs sitting on it. Wei Ying was suddenly reminded of a recent late night YouTube binge where he’d ended up watching random cooking videos. One of them was about eggs.
“Lan Zhan, did you know you can turn those eggs into rabbits?”
“Mm, I know.”
Wei Ying, who had been reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone, paused. He smiled and leaned against the counter again. “Why am I not surprised you’ve seen the video?”
Lan Zhan said nothing immediately, but as he was putting the last egg into its bowl, he suddenly paused. “Do you… want to make rabbits?”
Wei Ying’s smile pulled up into a grin. “Sure. Teach me how?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan said, with a brief nod.
He placed the eggs on a fresh cutting board and patiently demonstrated how to make them. Lan Zhan made precise slices into the egg white, cutting off what he needed to form the ears and sliding them back into the little holes he made for the purpose. With quick and nimble fingers, he assembled the first cute little rabbit easily, finishing it off with black sesame seeds for eyes. It appeared simple, in practice, but Wei Ying’s attempts came out far more lopsided than he’d intended. His first bunny almost turned into a tragedy when he cut too deeply where the ears would sit, and almost decapitated the poor thing. Even the little sesame seed eyes were uneven.
Predictably, both of Lan Zhan’s were perfect, and looked adorable and picturesque sitting amongst a bed of lettuce and other veggies. Wei Ying’s, on the other hand, resembled a solid effort by a child not yet old enough to be trusted with a sharp knife. He compared them side by side, amused. “I don’t think I have a future in food art and presentation, Lan Zhan.”
“You just need practice,” Lan Zhan said, with complete confidence. “You’re good at everything you put your mind to.”
Still chuckling under his breath, Wei Ying reached for his bowl, when Lan Zhan suddenly intercepted and picked it up instead. Wei Ying raised an eyebrow as Lan Zhan put his own bowl with perfect bunnies in his hand instead. “You don’t need to take my sad little bunnies,” he tried to insist. “I’ll eat those.”
“I made lunch for you, so you have these,” Lan Zhan said, as though that made even a lick of sense. They made the rabbits together, at least, so why did it matter who ate which? Before he could point that out, Lan Zhan breezed past him and back toward the living room.
Nonplussed, Wei Ying shook his head. After quickly whipping out his phone to take a picture, Wei Ying joined Lan Zhan in the living room to face his dreaded essay.
~*~
A few weekends later, Wei Ying met up with Lan Zhan again. He’d scored an invite to Lan Zhan’s apartment to rehearse a new score for a planned performance later in the year. It had gone very well despite being an entirely new composition for both of them. Lan Zhan was an excellent rehearsal partner. Wei Ying had never met anyone whose fingers were more skilled on the strings, and he was more reliable than a metronome for helping Wei Ying maintain his rhythm - even if he disapproved of improv when he was being serious.
No matter how much he enjoyed the session, though, it was inevitable Wei Ying would eventually get bored and want to move onto something else. Jiang Cheng would complain that he had the attention span of a gnat whenever it happened, but Lan Zhan didn’t seem to mind. Why else would he have agreed to ditch their rehearsal and come with Wei Ying to eat outrageously unhealthy food, which he usually avoided?
A little part of him regretted the impromptu suggestion, especially when a bitterly cold wind swept past and had him involuntarily mimicking a turtle, trying to duck his head inside the collar of his coat. He’d never done well with the cold, and of course, he’d forgotten his gloves. If there was ever a day he left his apartment without forgetting something, it would be a miracle. He’d just have to keep his hands in his pockets and be thankful it wasn’t actually snowing.
To try to distract himself, he kept up lively chatter as they walked side by side. Lan Zhan listened and occasionally made a noise to indicate he was paying attention, which was both normal and familiar. A lot of people were put off by Lan Zhan’s habitual silence, mistaking it for indifference or even a complete lack of interest, but Wei Ying had never let it deter him. He’d stubbornly hung around until he figured out that was just how Lan Zhan was. He preferred to listen and give his full attention, even if he didn’t add much to the conversation himself. And he always gave his full attention. Wei Ying couldn’t remember even a single time Lan Zhan had actually ignored him, even if other people thought he did.
Wei Ying wondered from time to time if this dynamic was actually an important cornerstone in their friendship. They were complete opposites, after all, and opposites attracted. Lan Zhan was quiet and composed, one might even say reserved, and Wei Ying was energetic and hated silence. He’d rather fill dead air with senseless chatter than let an awkward silence stretch on. Maybe they’d bridged a gap between them without really thinking about it, like two odd-shaped pieces in a jigsaw that could only fit with each other.
They cut through a park that was completely empty, as most sane people were likely staying indoors where it was warm, and Wei Ying took advantage of a break between stories to blow some warm air into his chilled hands and rub them together briskly, hoping the friction would stop the creeping numbness. When he turned his head to look at Lan Zhan, about to launch into another anecdote, he paused.
Lan Zhan was holding out a pair of soft-looking, grey gloves.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, you didn’t have to bother, really,” he said. He didn’t say Lan Zhan should wear them instead, because he was already wearing a pair.
“It’s not a bother,” Lan Zhan said. “I brought them along -”
“Just in case?” Wei Ying finished for him. He grinned when Lan Zhan nodded, unsurprised and amused that Lan Zhan had correctly guessed he’d probably forgotten his own, and cheerfully slipped the gloves onto his hands. They were blessedly warm after sitting in Lan Zhan’s pocket, and wonderfully soft.
Wei Ying flexed his fingers experimentally and was pleased with the feel. The gloves were clearly of a far better quality than he could hope to afford on his part-time wages. He made a mental note to make sure he absolutely didn’t lose them so he could return them to Lan Zhan before he went home.
“Here,” Lan Zhan said.
Wei Ying looked up and was surprised to be offered something more. From the shape of it, it looked like a beanie hat. He was surprised all over again, because beanies had never seemed like Lan Zhan’s style. He always dressed impeccably, not a hair out of place, and no flashy colours or flourishes. Just realising he owned a beanie was a revelation in and of itself.
“Lan Zhan, I can’t take that,” he insisted. “It’s your hat and you’re not even wearing one. You should have it.”
Lan Zhan shook his head. “I don’t mind the cold like you do,” he said simply, as though that settled things.
“It’s fine, we’re not far from - wait, what’s that?”
Lan Zhan had gestured toward him insistently with the hat, and a flap of fabric had caught Wei Ying’s eye. He took it and stretched it out between his hands, and, sure enough, he found two long bunny ears on top of the beanie. He couldn’t feel it through the gloves, but the hat looked to be made of an incredibly soft fabric, making it appear as fuzzy as a real rabbit. It was a light grey and matched his gloves perfectly.
Wei Ying did an instant one-eighty, eagerly putting the beanie on his head with a wide grin. The ears were flimsy and delicate enough that they laid flat, so he reached up and grabbed them. He flopped them back and forth, then held them upright for Lan Zhan to see. “Lan Zhan, do they look cute?”
Lan Zhan’s eyes swept over the ears attentively before they returned to Wei Ying’s face. One of his rare smiles curved his lips. It softened and warmed his entire expression considerably, and made him look even more ridiculously handsome than he usually did. “Mn,” he said.
Although he knew it was the rabbit theme that Lan Zhan liked, Wei Ying still puffed up as though Lan Zhan had complimented him directly. How could he not, after being treated to one of Lan Zhan’s smiles? They appeared so rarely, half the orchestra had never seen it and were convinced he’d never smiled in his life. Though Wei Ying knew differently, that didn’t mean he failed to treasure it every time he saw one.
He let go of the ears and hopped up and down, feeling them thump gently against his head as they flopped around. He forgot how cold he felt as he laughed, but he missed entirely the way Lan Zhan’s eyes followed him and how his expression turned to one of yearning, quickly schooled back to stillness. Instead, an idea having occurred to him, Wei Ying pulled out his phone. “Lan Zhan, let’s take a picture.”
Lan Zhan blinked at him. “A picture?”
“Yeah. I won’t upload it anywhere if you don’t want me to, but I still think it’ll be cute. Please?” He smiled hopefully and held up his phone.
After a moment, Lan Zhan gave in and nodded. Wei Ying wasted no time shifting to stand beside him and held up his phone. They were about the same height, so Wei Ying crouched a little until Lan Zhan’s face was visible above his head. It would have been super cute if the beanie’s ears had stood up on their own so that Lan Zhan could peek between them, but Wei Ying supposed he couldn’t have everything. They looked plenty cute as it was.
Lan Zhan waited patiently, his face remaining still and impassive as Wei Ying snapped a few pictures of different poses and expressions. He never once smiled or pulled a face of his own, but that was fine. Wei Ying expected no less. He straightened again and scrolled through the pictures he’d taken and chose his favourite — a fairly tame, but cute one where he’d puckered up and thrown up a peace sign — and sent it to Lan Zhan with a handful of heart emojis.
~*~
A week later, when the weather was far more clement and Wei Ying only needed a pair of gloves (he’d remembered them this time) to ward off the chill, he once again managed to convince Lan Zhan to walk with him to a cafe near his apartment. Wei Ying was in dire need of snacks and some caffeine after studying for so many hours.
Predictably, Lan Zhan hadn’t adjusted his habits simply because he’d agreed to indulge in snack food. Instead of the hit of caffeine Wei Ying had inhaled as soon as it was cool enough to not scald his tongue, he’d opted for tea that he’d only drunk half of, and a rather sad-looking bran muffin (the healthiest thing he could find on the entire menu) that he was very neatly grazing on; that was the only way Wei Ying could describe how he broke off tiny little bits to eat, scattering barely a crumb.
Wei Ying knew Lan Zhan had only bought something for his benefit, so he didn’t feel the need to rush through his own food and be ready to go. His own coffee was long gone, but he was still making his way through a huge, sticky, double chocolate muffin. His fingers were coated with crumbs and melted chocolate, and he was starting to feel a little sick, but it tasted far too good to give up so easily. The only improvement he could imagine making to the gooey, chocolatey goodness would be adding a little heat.
Maybe he’d look up a recipe and give baking another go. It couldn’t be that hard to get chocolate and chilli right, surely?
Opposite him, Lan Zhan had gone quiet as he looked at his phone. He was exchanging messages with his older brother, an enigmatic figure that Wei Ying had heard a lot about, but never even seen so much as a picture of. He seemed to have a fair amount in common with Lan Zhan, including being talented musicians. Such was the topic of today’s string of text messages, according to Lan Zhan. Idly, Wei Ying wondered just how alike they really were. Could this older brother be anywhere near as handsome as Lan Zhan? Wei Ying considered for a moment, then wrinkled his nose. He doubted it. Lan Zhan was the only other person he knew that he would grudgingly accept to be more handsome than himself. He didn’t think his ego could take it if there was another person as pretty as Lan Zhan walking around.
“My brother has purchased an antique xiao,” Lan Zhan suddenly said, pulling Wei Ying out of his thoughts.
Always interested in discussing music, he sat up straighter. “An antique? That must have cost a pretty penny.”
“Most likely,” Lan Zhan agreed. “He’s going to send some pictures. It is apparently made of jade.”
Wei Ying whistled. “An instrument made of jade? I’m gonna guess it’s a bit fancier than the ones they sell on Etsy.”
“Mn.”
“Show me the pictures when they come through?”
They only had a few moments to wait. Lan Zhan turned his phone so Wei Ying could see the pictures he’d received. As a flautist himself, Wei Ying had a particular interest in woodwind instruments, and he could see at first glance that this xiao was of superior craftsmanship. In his mind, he doubled his initial guess at the price and mentally despaired that he would likely never own an instrument nearly as fine.
“Lan Zhan, can I -?” he asked, gesturing at the phone.
With a nod, Lan Zhan passed his phone across the table so Wei Ying could get a better look. He realised seconds before his fingers touched the screen to zoom in that they were still covered in chocolate crumbs, so he awkwardly tried to do it with his knuckles instead. He must have hit the wrong part of the screen, though, because the xiao disappeared and he was suddenly staring at Lan Zhan’s wallpaper.
Wei Ying had borrowed Lan Zhan’s phone many times before. Usually, it was because he’d forgotten to charge his own and wanted to check the time, or look up something that had suddenly caught his attention, or show Lan Zhan a video. Compared to his own phone, which was scratched up, constantly running out of storage space, and had had more wallpapers, ringtones and lock screens than he himself had had hot meals, Lan Zhan’s phone could only be described as boring. He used it primarily as a means of contact with the scarce few people he entrusted his contact info to, and had kept all the default settings without bothering to personalise anything.
Until, apparently, now.
Wei Ying stared at the wallpaper he’d accidentally revealed, his eyes widening. It was the selfie he’d taken just a week prior. It was far from the first impromptu picture he’d sent to Lan Zhan, but it was the only one to end up as his wallpaper. Or… or was it?
The more Wei Ying stared at the screen, the more he wondered. Did Lan Zhan periodically change things whenever struck by whimsy? If so, why had he never noticed it before now? And what, exactly, was the criteria for being chosen? In this picture, Wei Ying had the cute bunny beanie working for him, but was that all it took? Was it just the bunny element, or something more?
Lan Zhan didn’t seem to put any emotional investment in the coveted wallpaper position, or his family would surely have appeared there before now. Wei Ying’s current wallpaper, for example, was a typical summary of a meet-up with his siblings: he’d managed to catch a yelling Jiang Cheng in a headlock and their jiejie was laughing at their antics in the background. The dead arm he’d had after Jiang Cheng wriggled free and punched him had been more than worth it. While he couldn’t even imagine Lan Zhan having that sort of scuffle with anyone, least of all his brother, surely they took some pictures together. Surely at least one of those was worthy of a background or lock screen. If not… it really must be the rabbit thing. But if that was true, why not just theme his entire phone with rabbits?
Before Wei Ying could go any further down the literal rabbit hole of that thought, Lan Zhan seemed to have finally realised something was amiss, and he gently plucked the phone out of Wei Ying’s hand. He took one glance at the screen and immediately locked it, placing it face down on the table beside his tea.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, I was just surprised, is all,” Wei Ying tried, concerned that his friend would be embarrassed. “It’s a good picture, that’s why I sent it to you. You can use it how you want.” Lan Zhan nodded and broke off another piece of his muffin to eat politely. Wei Ying hesitated for a moment, pursing his lips. Did he dare say more? He was desperately curious to know why that picture, but should he push it? Lan Zhan hadn’t reacted negatively, so he decided to take the plunge.
“Why that one, though? I’ve never seen you use any of the others I send you.”
“It was cute,” Lan Zhan said, after a moment of staring into his cup.
“Oh, you mean the bunny beanie?”
Lan Zhan chose this moment to lift his cup of tea to his lips and drink, and Wei Ying recognised that as a desired end to the conversation. He thought he could see a redness to the tips of Lan Zhan’s ears through his hair. His curiosity was still burning, but if Lan Zhan had some sort of insecurity over admitting to his not-so-secret fondness for rabbits… Well, Wei Ying wasn’t going to force him to say it. He shelved his questions for another day, and turned the conversation to a movie he’d watched the other night.
~*~
Wei Ying shifted on his butt so the sun wasn’t in his eyes. He’d appropriated the shade of a big tree on campus to enjoy lunch, and to work on some homework. Anything he could do to lessen the amount he actually had to do off-campus was a win, in his book. He had important things to do, like sleep in and trounce Nie Huaisang at video games. Also, he needed as much free time as possible to spend with his sister, who had turned up unannounced to surprise them the day before. If she was also visiting her stupid boyfriend at the same time, Wei Ying chose not to think about it, and he already planned to monopolise as much of her attention as he could get away with. Jin Zixuan could kiss his ass.
Having lunch outside had been his jiejie’s idea, and she’d even brought a little picnic with her when she arrived to meet them. Somehow, Nie Huaisang had managed to invite himself along, and he was currently entertaining Jiang Yanli with embarrassing stories about Jiang Cheng, who was toothlessly threatening to break his legs if he didn’t shut up.
Wei Ying mostly tuned them out as he worked on the first draft of his essay. It wasn’t exactly a scintillating topic to squeeze out three thousands words for, and Wei Ying’s mind kept wandering. He wished Lan Zhan had been as presumptuous as Nie Huaisang and agreed to join them. At least he’d be able to help Wei Ying stay focused, as he’d done all the other times they studied together. He was just so reliable like that. Wei Ying really didn’t know what he’d do without Lan Zhan in his life.
He crossed out a line of his work he decided he didn’t like, then scrunched up his face as he tried to come up with a better one. He wiggled the bunny pen he’d borrowed from Lan Zhan again between his fingers, willing the creative juices to flow.
“Excuse me, where did you get that pen?”
Surprised, Wei Ying looked up. The voice was familiar, but not quite the same as he was used to. The timbre was similar, but the overall warmth was unexpected. Wei Ying squinted into the sunlight until he could make out a face, and then he simply stared. The person who had addressed him was almost identical to Lan Zhan — if not for the pleasant smile that seemed to fit naturally on his face and the different shade of his eyes, he would have thought it was Lan Zhan. Without a doubt, this person had to be Lan Zhan’s brother.
But he realised he was staring, and Not-Lan Zhan was pointing at the pen, patiently waiting for him to respond. His smile never faltered, even as Wei Ying momentarily floundered to find his words.
“Oh! Um… Lan Zhan gave it to me.”
“He did?” The politely pleasant look on the other man’s face turned to one of thoughtfulness.
“Yeah. So… you must be his brother?”
“That’s right. Forgive my manners, my name is Lan Huan. I’m Lan Zhan’s older brother.” His gaze focused on Wei Ying’s face. “And would you, by any chance, be Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying’s mouth fell open, he was so shocked. Lan Zhan talked about him to his family? Lan Zhan, who barely said a word that wasn’t necessary? He hadn’t realised any of the time they spent together was noteworthy enough for Lan Zhan to share. “I - yes?”
Lan Huan smiled. “I thought so. It’s nice to meet you finally.”
“How did you know who I was?” Wei Ying wondered. It couldn’t be the pictures, could it? He’d never seen a picture of Lan Huan or the uncle Lan Zhan so respected, so he’d naturally assumed Lan Zhan hadn’t shown them any of the many selfies he sent. Had he been wrong? Had Lan Zhan shown them to his brother?
Lan Huan nodded at the pen in Wei Ying’s hand. “My brother would never have given that to anyone else.” Seeing Wei Ying’s confusion, Lan Huan smiled and added: “It’s the rabbits. He doesn’t share them with anyone but me, usually. And now you.”
“Oh!” Jiang Yanli suddenly said, smiling. “Do you mean it’s his love language?”
“What a charming way to put it. Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Jiang Yanli let out a delighted laugh. “Oh, that’s so sweet. A-Ying, how lucky you are.”
“Lucky?” Wei Ying felt like his head was spinning. How had things suddenly gone from his reserved friend having a cute quirk to it being his love language? And what were they even suggesting by involving him in it? “What do you mean by love language? What are you talking about?”
Jiang Yanli put a hand on his arm and squeezed fondly. “A love language is -”
Wei Ying quickly put up his other hand. “No, I know what a love language is, but… are you saying Lan Zhan is trying to tell me something with all this?”
“Are you really that oblivious?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Or are you just playing dumb? It’s so obvious he’s into you. I’m genuinely shocked you’re not already a thing with how you spend all your free time together these days. I was just waiting for you to finally fess up.”
“Huh?”
Jiang Cheng snorted, though he didn’t bother to open his eyes. He was leaning against the tree trunk, his arms folded behind his head. “Honestly, I assumed they were already screwing,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“A-Cheng!” Jiang Yanli chided him, while Wei Ying could only gape.
Lan Huan cleared his throat, not unlike a teacher gaining the attention of an unruly class. Wei Ying realised that was actually quite apt, as he remembered Lan Zhan mentioning once that his brother taught music, though how old his students were, Wei Ying had no idea. Maybe he really was used to rallying a rowdy bunch of gremlins.
“It seems we’re getting somewhat off topic here,” Lan Huan said. “If nothing else, it seems obvious my brother has a great affection for you, Wei Ying. He often finds it difficult to nurture deep and meaningful connections, so I hope you understand the significance you have in his life.”
“I… I think I do,” Wei Ying murmured.
He understood the concept, in theory. Lan Zhan really liked him. Possibly like-liked him. His grasp of the meaning of those terms was pretty solid. It was just really hard to accept it was actually true. Lan Zhan, wanting him that way? Lan Zhan, who he’d never seen express an interest in anyone romantically? It had taken Wei Ying months of persistence to get Lan Zhan to even talk to him regularly, let alone anything more. How did anything more come into the equation? And when had it happened?
But then again… He couldn’t deny there was a distinct difference in how Lan Zhan was with him, compared to anyone else. With how inexpressive and aloof he could be, didn’t that mean the allowances he made for Wei Ying had even more gravitas than he’d realised? Lan Zhan had friendly acquaintances, people he would speak to when they were in the same place, in his classes and among the orchestra, but how many of them had his number? How many had been to his apartment for study dates and rehearsals?
No one, except him.
Maybe Lan Zhan did have feelings for him, as fantastical as that seemed. But how did he feel about Lan Zhan? Until right that moment, he’d never considered dating his aloof friend. Lan Zhan had always been so unapproachable in that regard, anyone with any sense let go of the notion before it even fully formed. It would take someone particularly dense not to notice the walls he had up. Wei Ying was the exception in that he noticed they were there, but ignored them, and his persistence had eventually paid off.
Since he’d stubbornly inserted himself into Lan Zhan’s life, he had become an integral part of Wei Ying’s. Something about them just fit, there was no way to deny that. It went further than just opposites attracting one another. There was some connection there he couldn’t put into words, but he knew that he couldn’t envision going back to a time where Lan Zhan wasn’t a part of his everyday life.
Whenever he found something funny or interesting, Lan Zhan was the first person he wanted to share it with.
But did that mean Lan Zhan was his best friend or… did he want more?
Wei Ying looked at Lan Huan, then at his sister. “Jiejie…” He bit his lip. “Are you sure about this? If I say something to Lan Zhan, I’m not going to make a fool of myself?”
“Of course not,” she assured him, and she gently tapped his nose with her finger the way she used to when he was young. “You go get him, a-Ying.”
Before he could talk himself out of the idea, Wei Ying scrambled to his feet. He tucked the pen behind his ear and his notepad under his arm, and started jogging back toward the main building.
“I suppose this means my lunch plans have changed,” he heard Lan Huan say, sounding pleased.
Wei Ying didn’t hear anything else, and he was glad for it. It was already embarrassing enough to know that Lan Huan was purposefully ditching his plans with Lan Zhan to give him time to make a move. God, what was he even going to say? This really wasn’t his forte. He was much more in his element in a dingy club, hitting on strangers where the stakes were so much lower. If he struck out there, he could just move on to someone else. He had endless confidence in that environment. But shooting his shot with someone he knew and cared about, when a rejection could forever change the dynamic of their friendship? That was absolutely terrifying.
Before lunch, Lan Zhan had said he’d planned to get in some extra rehearsal time (as if he needed it, which he absolutely didn’t), so Wei Ying made his way swiftly to the music room. A quick glance through the window in the door showed the rehearsal was still ongoing. Wei Ying paused there, because he didn’t want to distract anyone by trying to sneak inside. He was as welcome there as any other music major, but it was generally considered bad form to interrupt any rehearsals in progress without at least waiting for a break.
He leaned his back against the wall and chewed his lip. Wei Ying felt restless just standing still and waiting, like there was a nervous energy inside him he had to get out somehow. Staying still felt impossible, but he didn’t want to pace. He needed to find something to do with himself while he waited.
Unenthusiastically, he pulled out his notepad again and opened it on his essay. If he had energy to burn, he might as well turn it toward something productive, right? But the more he stared at the page, the more the words bled together, and he couldn’t focus enough to work on a single line.
Frustrated, he turned the page and started to doodle instead. It started off as an indistinct shape, but quickly morphed into something that had been on his mind: a bunny, cute and round, with an exaggeratedly fluffy tail and wide doe eyes. It was different to the kinds of things he usually drew, but he knew he hadn’t drawn it for himself. Suddenly inspired, he quickly wrote a message underneath.
When he noticed there was silence again, Wei Ying peered back through the window into the music room. His eyes instantly found Lan Zhan, who was just sliding his guqin back into its case. As if he sensed the gaze, Lan Zhan almost immediately looked up and spotted him. Surprise flitted briefly across his face, then he looked away to speak briefly with the other students. Evidently, he was excusing himself, because he got to his feet moments later and started toward the door.
Wei Ying looked down at his doodle, and he was gripped by a wave of indecision. He’d planned to simply give it to Lan Zhan and wait for his answer — spare himself having to actually say it out loud — but now that seemed like a stupid idea. Childish, even. He couldn’t muster the balls to ask Lan Zhan out in person, so he had to rely on this silly little rabbit drawing to do it for him?
Lan Zhan was at the door now, and he was reaching out for the handle. Wei Ying panicked, and slapped the drawing against the glass window. The door handle froze half-turned.
Mortification swamped Wei Ying. There was no backing out now. Instead of doing things properly like the grown ass man he was, he’d just asked Lan Zhan out like a pre-teen girl passing notes in class. He wanted to run away. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He wanted —
The handle turned fully and the door pushed open, and Wei Ying scrambled back so it didn’t hit him. Awkwardly, Wei Ying held his notepad in front of his stomach, not quite sure what else to do with it. Putting it away felt cowardly, but knowing the drawing was still on show had him cringing inside. “Lan Zhan, I -”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan said, interrupting him. “I will go out with you.”
“You will?”
“Mn.” Lan Zhan’s eyes were soft as he looked down at Wei Ying’s notepad. “I would like to have that, please.”
Wei Ying laughed, all his concerns melted away in an instant. “You got it,” he agreed. Gamely, he tore the page free of his notepad and handed it to Lan Zhan, who folded it neatly and tucked it away into his pocket for safekeeping. Wei Ying couldn’t help the big, stupid grin that spread across his face.
“So… do you have any other classes today?” Wei Ying asked, and Lan Zhan shook his head. Wei Ying did, but suddenly he couldn’t care less about them. He wouldn’t have been able to concentrate anyway, so he had no qualms about skipping them. “How about we go somewhere now, then?”
Lan Zhan nodded, and they fell into step as they walked through the hall. No more than a few moments had passed before Wei Ying felt fingers lace with his, and he jolted in surprise.
“I apologise,” Lan Zhan said, hurriedly. He tried to withdraw his fingers, but Wei Ying quickly caught them and squeezed for good measure.
“No need. I like it.” He smiled, and he could have sworn the tips of Lan Zhan’s ears were red behind the curtain of his hair. It made something feel fluttery and warm in his stomach. If just holding hands was going to make him feel this ridiculously happy, Wei Ying could scarcely wait for more.