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Fingers curl around his wrist, firm but not restricting. They could be grounding, but that’s not what he wants or needs right now. They’re a quiet request for his attention, one that Lan Zhan indulges in a moment later. He meets bright, calculating eyes for the briefest of moments before he averts his gaze. It’s enough, Wei Ying releases his wrist and instead offers a bright, understanding smile. One that Lan Zhan can’t take his eyes off. It still baffles him to this day, how easily Wei Ying can wear his heart on his sleeve, how his face is an ever-changing mask of emotions. Everyone knows what he’s feeling when he feels it. Lan Zhan struggles with maintaining this one and yet Wei Ying can read him like a book.
He feels raw and exposed, like the room is weighing down on him, waiting for him to buckle and break. Wei Ying is already scooting discreetly, off to the side, taking his familiar body weight and heat with him. There’s a pang of guilt when Lan Zhan realizes that he’s relieved. He’s breathing a little easier as his boyfriend gives him some space back.
“Go, I’ve got this handled.” Is whispered to Lan Zhan.
He should stay, it would be the polite thing to do. Wei Ying’s – their, he reminds himself- friends are strewn about the living room, laughing and talking with one another. Someone’s phone is playing music, with heavy bass that even from this distance, makes Lan Zhan’s head ache. It’s a better fit for a club than it is a living room. He holds his tongue, because they had spent the day helping Lan Zhan and Wei Ying move into their apartment. Now, the sun had long since set and the moving truck they had rented had departed.
There had been a fleeting moment of respite, from the laughter and the noise, when Lan Zhan had hurried down to the lobby to collect their takeout order. When he had asked what their guests wanted, he had been almost disappointed when they all politely said they were alright, even after having spent hours hauling Lan Zhan’s and Wei Ying’s life up to their apartment. It was only after he had put his phone away that Wei Ying squawked and insisted that everyone order that they wanted, that he and Lan Zhan wouldn’t take no for an answer. Lan Zhan dutifully put in each order and when it came time to collect, he had no qualms abandoning the party to fetch their dinner.
He's grateful, there are no words he can say that will express the gratitude he feels properly, though he’s sure that Wei Ying would be happy enough to say them for him. But he’s tired, it’s been a long day. He’s sweaty, as they all are, and sore. He desperately yearns for a shower, his skin itches with the need. His social battery had run out hours ago. He can no longer even pretend to follow even one of the conversations being held, let alone the other two going on.
There’s a loud crack as someone opens another beer and a peal of laughter. It sets Lan Zhan’s teeth on edge. It’s so much, the laughter, the music, Lan Zhan’s head feels fuzzy. Nobody else seems to mind, they’re all enjoying themselves, relaxing after a hard day’s work, talking like normal people do. It’s as if Lan Zhan’s vocal cords are tangled up in one another, even if he wanted to, he cannot bring himself to speak, to join in on any of the conversations happening. It turns out, he doesn’t need to speak, because Wei Ying does for him.
“Alright!” Wei Ying claps his hands after pushing to his feet to get everyone’s attention, he blossoms under it, all wide smiles and laughter. Nobody even spares Lan Zhan a glance. “I love each and every one of you so much. Thank you for all your help.” A few people in the group ‘aw’ed at that and Wei Ying nodded before continuing. “That said! You all need to leave, Lan Zhan and I need to christen the place, if you know what I mean!”
There’s a moment of stunned silence before the room breaks out into chaos. Jiang Cheng is red-faced, yelling about how shameless Wei Ying is, Nie Huaisang is cackling and Wen Ning is coughing into his hand. Wei Ying grimaces, looking down to Lan Zhan and mouthing ‘I’m sorry.’ To him before he’s moving again.
Amidst the chaos, Lan Zhan is coaxed from the couch, moving stiffly, but moving nonetheless. Wei Ying navigates through the crowd of people and the sea of half unpacked boxes, down the hall to their bedroom. It’s a blessing when the door shuts behind them and the room is quiet. Lan Zhan can no longer hear the music or the loud conversations, it’s all muffled thanks to the door. He’s guided to the bed, haphazardly made because earlier, when they had hauled the bed in, Lan Zhan insisted they make it so they had somewhere comfortable to sleep tonight. He’s glad for his insistence, as the duvet is pulled around his shoulders.
“I’ll be back, okay? I’m just going to make sure everyone leaves.” Wei Ying isn’t whispering, but he’s mindful of his volume. He leaves after that, closing the door behind him softly, giving Lan Zhan the space and the quiet he so desperately needed, to go shoo the rest of their friends away. Lan Zhan’s shoulders sag and he let his eyes close.
Eventually, the static in Lan Zhan’s head fades, though the bone deep exhaustion remains. It was minutes or hours later before Wei Ying returns to the bedroom, humming quietly under his breath and a glass of water in hand. A smile breaks out over his face when he sees Lan Zhan open his eyes.
“I was just locking up, making sure we didn’t have any stragglers.” Wei Ying explains, taking an exaggerated step over a small wall of boxes and further into the room. “Jiang Cheng thinks I’m going to trash the place in a month.” Wei Ying sits himself on the edge of the bed, close enough that Lan Zhan shifts with the slight dip, then gently pushes the glass into his hands. Wei Ying isn’t deterred by Lan Zhan’s lack of response, he just continues on. “I told him no way, you’d never let me get away with that.”
This is true, Lan Zhan likes his home a certain way. His previous apartment had been much smaller, made even more so with Wei Ying’s unofficial move in. Now, they both had plenty of space to spread out and make their place a home. Lan Zhan may not like messes, but he’s grown accustomed to Wei Ying’s little pockets of chaos. He finds them quite endearing, from the notes strewn about the apartment with scribbled thoughts that only have a connection in Wei Ying’s mind, to the small, random projects laid about in the oddest places, as if Wei Ying had set it down for just a moment and then never came back. He’ll never forget the time Wei Ying decided to pick up wood carving. One of his first creations was supposed to be the Eiffel tower, Lan Zhan, when he first spotted it in his bathroom (no, he didn’t ask why it was there) thought it looked more like a dick. That little wooden dick – Eiffel tower- was packed neatly away, waiting to be put on display in their master bath. It certainly didn’t match the rest of their décor, but it was something Wei Ying had been passionate about, so of course Lan Zhan would keep it.
So yes, Lan Zhan would prefer his home to be neat and organized, but Wei Ying’s presence is far more important. His home simply isn’t just a place to rest in now, but somewhere he can come to – the both of them can – and just be, without fear of judgment. And if those pockets of chaos grow into something more and they get away from Wei Ying, Lan Zhan would be there to help reign it in, to parse through Wei Ying’s mile a minute thoughts and bring them back to some sense of order. There would be growing pains, as they learned to share a space that belonged to the both of them. Lan Zhan already mourns the copy of Wei Ying’s key, knowing that there will come a day soon that it would be set down never to be found again. He has two more copies tucked away in his wallet for the time being and there’s a key holder somewhere in the living room that he’ll hang by the door in the coming days. There’s a calendar somewhere too, that they had used at Lan Zhan’s last apartment. This would help keep the both of them prepared for the days ahead of them. It wasn’t perfect by any means, there were still events they missed and were as Wei Ying called it, fashionably late to, but it worked.
Wei Ying squirms beside him, pulling his legs up onto the bed as he continues to go in depth about his brother’s thoughts. Lan Zhan sips at the water, it’s a relief for his parched throat and dry mouth. He feels a little more human when he finishes the glass. Wei Ying’s fingers drum on his legs and Lan Zhan, moves the empty glass to one hand, to tuck the other down in between Wei Ying’s hands and legs. Almost immediately, his hands are grabbed. Lithe, clever fingers fiddle with his own, spreading them apart to push them back together again a second later. A thumb brushes over the ridges of his knuckles, again and again.
They spend an indeterminable amount of time like this, Lan Zhan watching as Wei Ying plays with his fingers as Wei Ying veers off into another topic. Lan Zhan hasn’t found his voice yet, he probably won’t for the rest of the evening, but he listens intently, making mental notes to bring up later when he can speak again. He wants Wei Ying to know he’s been heard, that he always will be. He squeezes Wei Ying’s hand and Wei Ying’s words die out almost immediately and just a second later, Lan Zhan feels a squeeze in return.
“I love you too, Lan Zhan.”
It’s days later, when they’re (mostly) unpacked and settling into their new routine, they have thirty minutes before they’re expected at his uncle’s home for supper, Wei Ying is scurrying around the apartment, hands frantically patting his pockets, eyes wild as he searches for something.
“Wei Ying,” Dark eyes snap up from their search of the coffee table. “What are you looking for?”
“My keys! I had them! I had them this morning. I brought the groceries in and them on the counter and then…” He shakes his hands as if the keys would magically fall from them. Lan Zhan glances at the key holder by the door, the spares are hanging up nicely but Wei Ying’s holder is noticeably empty. It’s not a big deal, Lan Zhan has the spares and his own set, but that’s not the point here. Lan Zhan nods his affirmation and steps away from the door to aid his boyfriend’s search.
“Where did you last see them?” He asks and Wei Ying heaves a sigh and motions towards the kitchen.
“In there but I wouldn’t have left them there!”
Still, Lan Zhan turns his search that way, carefully parsing through their cabinets and drawers. He finds the keys, set directly next to a bottle of chili oil a few moments later. “Wei Ying.”
His boyfriend all but teleports to his side, eyes going wide before he’s smacking his palm to his forehead. “Jeeze,” He hisses, leaning up to reach over Lan Zhan’s shoulder to snatch the keys. “I’m such a-” Wei Ying falls quiet when Lan Zhan turns on him, eyes narrowed.
Wei Ying is many things, loud, creative, loving and intelligent. He is none of the things that was about to leave his mouth. “You were simply thinking ahead.” Wei Ying stares up at him, not seeing what Lan Zhan was getting at.
“You we’re talking about bringing the chili oil to supper. You must have set your keys there so you wouldn’t forget.” Lan Zhan explains and Wei Ying take a moment to process it before his face lights up.
“You’re right!” He crows and he leans up again to snatch the bottle of oil. On his way down he presses a loud kiss to Lan Zhan’s cheek. “Look, we’re still on time! We can make it there without your uncles lecture!”
They make it to supper with a minute to spare and Wei Ying is over the moon. He’s promising that they’ll do even better next week as they sit down at the table. It’s only when they’re settled, that Lan Zhan slips his hand beneath the table, finding Wei Ying’s. Fingers immediately wrap around his own and Lan Zhan squeezes.
It’s only a moment later before Wei Ying squeezes his hand in return.