Work Text:
Mu Qing is never late. Ever.
Mu Qing is, in fact, known for his impeccable punctuality.
Unlike his perpetually late friends, especially Xie Lian, Mu Qing doesn’t only calculate the time needed to reach a destination, he also includes the time it takes to find parking, walking time from the parking lot to the meeting place, and some buffer in case shit happens - you never know when you’ll forget your keys or take a wrong turn.
Being early for every meet-up is an art he has perfected over years of wrong turns, missing keys, and missed trains.
But despite being the most punctual person on earth, life decided to fuck him in the ass today.
He was supposed to meet with Feng Xin and Xie Lian at their weekly brunch spot at noon.
But his phone charger failed him sometime during the night, so his phone ran out of battery, and consequently, instead of gracefully waking up at 9 a.m. as he had meticulously planned, he jolts himself into a panic at 10.45 a.m.
He groans in frustration as he rushes through a quick shower without washing and blow-drying his hair, a near blasphemous practice for Mu Qing.
Then, he pats himself down with a towel in less than a minute and throws on a less-than-bare-minimum look of a plain black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. As much as he believes in dressing up for an event, he cannot and will not be late.
He can’t.
His pajamas and towel are strewn all over the floor and his bed is unmade, and he makes a fast and hard decision to leave them be. It aches him, but he can make his bed and fold his clothes later.
After rummaging through his drawers to find a fresh pair of socks, he sprints past his coffee machine to the front door, and gives it a quick glance. But, unfortunately, it is already 11 a.m., so coffee will have to wait.
And as Mu Qing waits for the lifts, he quickly sends out a text to the group chat that he shares with Feng Xin and Xie Lian, telling them he’s on the way.
By 11.05 a.m., Mu Qing loudly curses as he sprints down 32 flights of stairs. The lifts are out of service. He wants to die.
He’s sweaty, and his knees hurt a little as he finally makes it to the basement parking lot, but he makes it to his car by 11.30 a.m.
It’s fine. Mu Qing still has a good half hour to get there. The restaurant is a ten-minute drive away from his place. Thirty minutes is plenty of time, and it’s not lunchtime, so there should be plenty of parking.
It’ll be fine.
11.42 a.m. It is not fine.
After minutes of twisting his car keys into the keyhole and trying to start the engine, his car won’t start. Mu Qing wants to cry.
He cannot be late. He just can't.
Mu Qing makes his way out of his apartment to the sidewalk and pulls out his phone to call an Uber—but there are no fucking drivers in the area.
It takes everything to resist the urge to throw his phone onto the pavement.
He stares at the clock on his screen, 11.46 a.m.
Fuck.
It is too late to make an excuse that he is sick - they already think he’s on his way.
The street is busy with cars and people walking around him, and he can feel his eyes watering.
He really, really doesn't want to be late. Of course, Feng Xin and Xie Lian won't mind it; he knows that, but he can’t. He just can’t.
At 11.48 a.m., he starts walking towards the restaurant, hoping to get an Uber while he steps closer to his destination as he checks his phone clock every 15 seconds.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. He won't cry. He can't. But before he can recheck his phone, a blue sedan pulls up next to him.
"Mu Qing!" a familiar voice calls out. It is Feng Xin, driving with the windows down. "Come on, hop in, you bastard! I'm blocking the fucking street," he yells.
Mu Qing quickly gets into the passenger seat, buckles up, and they make their way to the restaurant. He avoids looking at Feng Xin and looks out of the window instead.
"You know, I thought you'd be there by now," Feng Xin says casually as his eyes remain on the road. "You're always the first to get there whenever we meet," he adds.
"I was getting an Uber," Mu Qing replies, his voice snappy but shaky. He hopes Feng Xin doesn’t notice it.
But he does.
Feng Xin looks at Mu Qing’s watery eyes and redder-than-usual face. "Hey, Mu Qing, you okay?" Concern laces his voice.
"Allergies," he mumbles. Watery eyes focus on the pedestrians crossing the streets.
Feng Xin doesn’t know what to say. "Oh, okay." He stays silent for half a minute before softly adding, "Don't worry. "We'll be there soon."
Mu Qing glances at him, unsure if Feng Xin knows about his internal battles, but Feng Xin's face reveals nothing other than his usual easygoing expression, and they drive in silence the rest of the way.
By 11.59 a.m., they make it to their table, and as usual, Xie Lian isn’t there yet. Mu Qing sits at the corner, closest to the wall, facing outwards of the restaurant. He’s always had a preferred seat too.
Feng Xin sits across from him.
A sense of overwhelming relief washes over Mu Qing. They made it on time. "Thank you for the ride," he says, his voice lighter and calmer. "Dessert’s on me today."
"Uh? Yeah? Sure," Feng Xin replies with a puzzled expression, but he lets it be. He doesn’t want to ruin Mu Qing's good mood by accidentally saying something wrong.
Amused by Feng Xin's confusion, Mu Qing silently smiles.
Today isn’t that bad after all.