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“What does it even mean, no operating heavy vehicles?” Wei Ying had asked once. “Like a construction… car? Thing?”
Wen Ning’s sister had sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, “No, like a normal car.”
Wen Ning, who was also not allowed to operate heavy vehicles, including cars, hadn’t needed such a conversation to teach him that standard medical warnings referred to cars and not tanks, but whenever he thought about the fact that he couldn’t drive as a fact in itself rather than a simple aspect of routine, he remembered Wei Ying’s pouting and shock at the explanation.
“I thought it was cooler than that,” he’d said, drooping, and Wen Ning and his sister had known to laugh at the joke rather than point out how he was hiding from the reality of the situation.
He’d accepted it, slower than Wen Ning had done, but Wen Ning had known he would never be able to drive, had been warned about it since childhood. Now, Wei Ying simply joked about his pretty chauffeur. Whenever he said so, he would kiss Lan Zhan’s cheek and playfully fight Wen Ning for the passenger seat. They switched sometimes, for the shorter journeys, but Wen Ning didn’t get as motion sick as Wei Ying did, so he let himself be defeated with a smile, and accepted Wei Ying’s consolation kiss. When Wei Ying wasn’t too busy staring out the window or listening to a podcast, he held Wen Ning’s hand over the barrier between the front and back seat.
At the red light, Wen Ning took Lan Zhan’s hand. Just for a moment, because safety was important. He looked out the window whenever he was in a car, dutifully pointing out interesting animals and funny houses, but mostly he dozed and listed to the conversation around him. Sometimes he chimed in. With just the two of them in the car, the space usually taken up by Wei Ying’s voice was filled by soft music.
When the light turned green, Wen Ning returned Lan Zhan’s hand to him and didn’t speak until the music changed.
Lan Zhan had picked him up from school, warning him with a text beforehand. Either because he’d gotten there early as a matter of habit or because he’d wanted to take a break before the return journey, Lan Zhan had gotten out of the car into the clear spring air to wait for him. Maybe he’d been coaxed out by the flowers. He’d been sitting by a raised flower bed when Wen Ning joined him, one hand tracing the patterns in the wooden bench built around it and the other soon lifted in a wave.
Wen Ning had kissed him and plucked a purple flower, a weed, to put behind his ear. Wei Ying had taken to doing that, long ago when they’d first met, wanting to fluster Lan Zhan partially by adorning him in flowers. He’d run around the two of them, energetic and forgetful, taking them to bookstores and fields and on one unfortunate evening an amusement park. He moved slightly differently, now, as did they all, but hadn’t changed much otherwise. It was silly. But not where it mattered.
Lan Zhan had smiled up at him and lifted a hand to gently brush against the flower, and stood, using Wen Ning’s arm for balance, before heading to the car.
He walked slowly and unsteadily, but his face was clear and not pained. A good day, then. Wen Ning had closed the door to the car behind him and walked around to his own seat and Lan Zhan had waited for him to buckle, which always took just a few seconds too long—but not too long today, because it was a good day for him, too.
"I got food,” Lan Zhan said at the next intersection, five minutes from their home.
Wen Ning turned to him, not that Lan Zhan would look to read his face, but his voice would carry better. “Yeah?”
Lan Zhan hummed an affirmative. He was only just starting to go out alone again, finally with enough energy and forgiveness toward himself. Before, he’d done most of their shopping alone, Wei Ying unable to remember, even with a list, without help, and Wen Ning not nimble enough for picking and packing all their necessities in the hustle and bustle of a store. But that had been over a year ago, now, and in the time since, the list of Lan Zhan’s accomplishments had become limited to smaller things. No less important, but more along the lines of getting out of bed without help or moving around the apartment. On an adventurous day, going to the park for most, not even the entirety, of a planned time.
For all the casualness in Lan Zhan’s voice, the ear Wen Ning could see was light pink and his hands were tight around the steering wheel. He’d been building up to this. Had chosen a good day—a day good enough that although Wen Ning could see Lan Zhan’s wheelchair in the backseat, along with the groceries, he’d walked out of the car to wait for him, and perhaps he’d pay for that later, but had deemed the prince worth it—and was proud of himself.
Wen Ning smiled though Lan Zhan couldn’t see him, entering their usual parking spot, and said, “That’s awesome.”
He didn’t ask what Lan Zhan had gotten because they put the lists together at the end of each week.
“That’s really cool,” he repeated.
Lan Zhan, fully parked, ducked his head to hide his smile.
Wen Ning reached across and held his hand. Squeezed it. Then let go.
He was under no illusion—nor, he knew, was Lan Zhan—that this was a perfect balm to the months of pain and near-immobility, but was simply a consequence of Lan Zhan finally being kinder to himself. Which Wen Ning and Wei Ying had wanted him to be, but how to broach the subject? Lan Zhan was an adult and had free range of his choices, no matter how bad.
Now, things had changed. Not as a matter of the intrinsic elements of Lan Zhan’s body, but his relationship with it. A journey that Wei Ying had gone through with extraordinary speed after his accident, one Wen Ning had been on for most of his life.
Wen Ning left the car and walked around to Lan Zhan’s side to open the door for him, offering an arm to serve as lever for Lan Zhan to exit as well, and then he didn’t let go. Lan Zhan was in his arms, the flower still behind his ear, and they kissed, smiling, Lan Zhan leaning into his hold and Wen Ning’s heart overflowing.
He was in love and happy and proud.
He hugged Lan Zhan securely by the hips and took a step back, letting the car door close—because they both grabbed their things when they exited, never spreading out inside the car as Wei Ying liked to do—and kissed him again.
Lifted him, holding him close, and slowly spun in place.
He felt Lan Zhan gasp, felt his lips stay parted into a smile, felt his small laugh when they moved. He kissed Lan Zhan’s cheek and smelled the flower along with his soap.
And then, just as naturally, stopped. Held Lan Zhan in place off the ground for a moment more. Put him down. Still held the majority of his weight as they rejoined the world, and distantly felt his fingers begin to shake on the small of Lan Zhan’s back from the excitement and exertion.
Lan Zhan narrowed his brows in worry.
“Worth it.” Wen Ning shook his head. “Not a big deal.”
And it wasn’t; his fingers spent most of their time in some sort of tremor, and he still had enough control to open the car’s back door for Lan Zhan to lean against as he took out the wheelchair and then the heavier bags.
He moved slowly but efficiently, a speed he’d been yelled for by teachers for most of his life. Lan Zhan’s thanks didn’t erase the memory but made it inconsequential, and before they went inside Lan Zhan gently tugged him down for another kiss.