Chapter Text
There are three things Blade craves for at this moment. His bed, a plate of scallion pancakes, and for the time to turn back 2 hours into the past.
However, his cravings unfortunately cannot be fulfilled.
He brushes dust off his black pants—he is, in fact, out of uniform. He'd been rushing in the morning as a result of the night before where his mother had crazily banged piano keys early into the morning. The conclusion of her maniacal rehearsal was a son who scrambled out of bed and wore whatever he could find near, running out the door without even being able to sniff in the direction of the kitchen.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets and walks slowly to the classroom door with as much swagger as a man with an empty stomach can possibly muster.
As soon as he slides the door open, his eyes land on a familiar man.
“Student Ren, out of uniform.” The familiar man, Welt Yang, utters.
“Old Yang also looks handsome today.” Blade jokes, a group of students at the back of the class snicker.
Welt sighs, pushing his glasses up. “You can sit beside…” He shifts his eyes over the entire classroom. He wants to make Blade and Kafka sit next to each other, but he has a feeling that the young woman will wage war over his classroom if her desk mate—Himeko—is replaced by the other boy. “Dan Heng. Sit beside Dan Heng, and don’t make it a habit to be late on the first day.” He points towards a serene looking boy in the back corner.
Blade whistles before shuffling over to his new desk. He unceremoniously dumps his bag onto the floor and slouches into the seat next to Dan Heng. “Yo,” He pokes the other boy’s desk. “Yoooooooooooooo.”
Dan Heng glances at him. “If you need a pencil, I don’t have one.” He says coldly.
“Who says I need a pencil?” Blade snorts. “I only want your friendship.” He smiles charmingly. His desk mate continues looking at him harshly.
Blade puts his hands up in surrender and turns away. He leans on his elbows and quietly watches old Yang write something on the blackboard. He gets bored of the math lesson very quickly and compromises to just watch his desk mate.
The boy beside him is… Very beautiful. His skin smooth, and pale as if carved from jade. His neck is slender, and a series of faint green veins are visible through the skin.
He writes into a notebook—handwriting sharp and distinct. Slender wrists rest against the desk gently, prominent joints flexing with every stroke of his pen.
His eyes are glassy like two beautiful crystals, the edges a little red from keeping his eyes open too long.
Blade feels heat rush into his face and looks away quickly.
Across the classroom, he meets Jing Yuan’s eyes. The latter shoots him a sleazy smile. Spinning his pencil, he mouths: enjoy ogling, student Ren?
Blade smirks. Enjoy ogling me as I ogle, student Jing Yuan? He mouths back.
“Ren, Jing Yuan, go stand outside.” Welt sighs deeply. “If you want to flirt, do it in your own time.”
Both Blade and Jing Yuan twist their faces into something ugly. Kafka giggles quietly as they walk out in shame.
“Hey, desk mate. Desk mate… Desk mateeeeeeeee. Dan Heng, Dan Heng, Dan Heng, Dan ge, Heng ge… Gege?” Blade pokes his desk mate on the shoulder, when the boy finally turns to him, Blade smiles. “Dan Heng gege!”
“Calling someone the same age as you ‘gege?’ Are you shameless?” He says without any emotion evident in his voice.
“We aren’t the same age,” Blade smiles. “You’re older by 11 months.”
“Are you a stalker?” Dan Heng asks.
“Only for you~” He makes a kissy face at the boy beside him.
The two people seated in front of them—Sushang and Fu Xuan—gag.
“Don’t bother me.” Dan Heng says, and turns back to his work.
Blade, consistently, continues bothering him.
He pokes at the older boy at any chance he gets, follows him around until someone pulls him away, always asks him questions on the work despite knowing how to do it, and keeps asking to borrow his uniform track jacket while he’s wearing his own.
“I’m starting to think you have a thing for your desk mate.” Jing Yuan bites into a steamed bun.
“Thing?” Blade repeats, smashing a bag of instant noodles with his fist. “He’s just fun to bother. His reactions are cute.”
“Cute?” Jing Yuan laughs. “When was the last time you had a crush on someone, Ren-er. When was the last time you felt the touch of a woman or a man?”
“If you let my fist kiss your face right now, the last time will be before you get sent to a hospital under my jurisdiction.” Blade tears the instant noodle bag open and picks out a piece to chew on.
“Okay, okay, whatever. Are you moving into dorms this year?” Jing Yuan asks.
“I kind of have to.” Blade tilts his head and rests it on his hand. “I can’t sleep at night because my mom keeps playing piano… My dad doesn’t say anything to her either.”
“That’s just because your dad’s whipped. You wouldn’t understand, you haven’t even felt the touch of a woman ye—”
Blade grabs the front of Jing Yuan's uniform shirt. “Itching for a fight, are you?” He smiles maniacally.
“Itching for love and friendship, my bro.” Jing Yuan says quickly.
When Blade gets home, he steps into the living room to find his mother lounging on the sofa; music sheets in hand. She looks at him and frowns. “What happened to your uniform, someone steal it?”
“Oh, yes.” Blade deadpans. “The laundry machine must have eaten it.”
His mother—Luo Yue—clicks her tongue. “Where do you get so much attitude from?”
“From the dear mother sitting before me, of course.” He dumps his backpack onto the floor near the coffee table and sits on the armchair in front.
“Brush your hair out of your face, straighten your shirt, sit up straight, and don’t cross your legs.” She says after eyeing him.
“You’re doing everything you’re telling me not to do, though?” He raises an eyebrow.
“You think it’s the same?” She challenges him, he straightens up.
He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small stack of paper. “Dorm registration form,” He places it onto the coffee table. “Sign it for me.”
“Hm,” She tilts her head, scrutinizing the papers with her eyes as if they've personally offended her. “You don’t want to live at home this year?”
“You play piano late into the night, I can’t sleep.” He closes his eyes and leans back into the armchair.
“You don’t like my midnight lullabies?” She moves her irises towards him.
“Your midnight lullabies sound horrific.” He blinks, she blinks back.
“Shame.” She turns away from him. “I was using you as inspiration for them.”
Blade scowls as she picks up the stack of papers. “Oh no,” She mutters while flipping through them. “What will I ever do now that my muse is gone?”
Blade rolls his eyes as one of his mother’s maids steps into the living room. “Is young master home?” She asks while drying her hands on a towel. “Should I pour you a glass of coconut water?”
“Leave it, a-Hua. Let this kid do it himself, we’ve been spoiling him too much.” His mother says with a tone of finality.
But his mother’s maid—Lianhua—ever the angel, just walks up behind her and begins massaging her shoulders. “Madame, you shouldn’t slouch too much. And you haven’t been spoiling him, young master is young master for a reason.”
Sometimes Blade thinks his mother has more chemistry with this single maid she keeps beside her at all times than with his own father. (He’s wrong, of course. His father spoils his mother to no extent and she loves the man far more than she could ever love herself.)
“Okay, okay. Go pour him a cup of coconut water…” She relents. Lianhua smiles a smile worth a million dollars.
About a month after school starts—Blade finds out that his desk mate is the little son of a family as rich as his and Jing Yuan’s.
It was an abrupt thing that was suddenly shoved into his face during lunch one day.
A girl from the class next door who Blade assumes is named March prances into their classroom everyday and sits in Sushang’s seat just to tilt the chair back and forth and converse with Dan Heng. Sometimes she has two companions tailing after her—A boy and a girl, a set of twins named Stelle and Caelus.
Anyway, March and Dan Heng were talking about miscellaneous things while Blade was playing a shooting game on his phone with Jing Yuan. He’d been so close to killing Jing Yuan’s final soldier when he heard something mindblowing.
“Hey, when’s your mother going to perform in another ballet competition?” March says with a bored tone. “I want to see auntie’s dancing again~”
Blade whips his head towards them. “Your mom’s a ballet dancer?” He blurts out.
Both Dan Heng and March turn to him, not even caring that he was eavesdropping. March smiles. “His mother is Gu Lanying, did you know?”
Blade connects dots in his head. Gu Lanying, one of the most talented dancers of her generation. She’s been on hiatus for 7 years, ever since she settled down with her family properly. She’s married to—
“You’re Dan Haoran’s only son?!” He stands up suddenly.
“Is that a problem?” Dan Heng tilts his head to the side.
Blade opens his mouth and closes it before finally, dumbly saying: “My mother is Luo Yue…”
Dan Heng’s eyes go wide in recognition. “Oh.” He says intelligently. “Our moms—are friends. They were talking on the phone yesterday.”
Blade gulps and nods like an idiot.
“Hey, hey! What’s this? You two know each other?! Stop acting like strangers then!” March suddenly pipes up.
“What? No, we—” Dan Heng barely has a chance to speak before March grabs his hand with her own. Blade stares at the scene with an unnecessary amount of jealousy until she, too, grabs his hand.
She places his hand on top of Dan Heng’s and Blade thinks this is the closest he’s ever been to the other boy. “Best friends!” March yells. “We’re all best friends!”
Dan Heng nods stupidly, unsure on how to comprehend the situation. “Best friends,” He agrees with the girl. “I’m a best fri —we’re best friends.”
Blade also nods eagerly. “Best friends!” He says enthusiastically, feeling warm after seeing the wide smile on March’s face. “You guys are my —best bros!”
Jing Yuan, who sits a few seats away from them, kills each one of Blade’s soldiers in their game with pleasure and precision, thanking March in his head for giving him this beautiful chance.
“So,” Blade leans against the doorframe of his brand new dorm—a single room, thanks to god’s grace. “Why’s a rich young master like you living in the dorms?”
Dan Heng doesn’t even spare him a glance and makes quick work of unlocking the door across from Blade. He rolls his suitcase in and finally turns around. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Oh, you know.” Blade shrugs. “My mother’s been possessed by a ghost who only knows how to play piano at night. My father says the exorcism will take a while.”
Dan Heng blinks, a shred of horror hidden somewhere in his eyes. “Are you serio—”
“No!” Blade says quickly. “Half of what I said is true.”
“The exorcism part or the playing piano at night part—”
“The playing piano at night part—”
Both of them stare at each other awkwardly until Blade opens his mouth again. “Do you need help unpacking?” He says with an awkward grin.
“No.” Dan Heng turns away, red coloring the tip of his ears. “But,” He turns around again. “If I need something, can I knock?”
Blade stops, and then a wide grin spreads over his face. “Yes—knock as much as you want! I’m here.”
Dan Heng walks into his room, and when he’s about to close the door, he looks back. “Thank you, and see you later.” He nods.
Blade remains unmoving on spot. When he steps into his room, he slams the door behind him while blushing furiously like a girl who’s gotten her first crush. He jumps into his bed and rolls around before turning over on his stomach; replaying the scene in his head again. He screams into his pillow and kicks his legs furiously.
He’s really done it now.