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There are many, many times that Yongju closes his eyes and prays to whatever god may be listening that for once, Muti would just stop talking. This is but one of them.
“I’m just saying,” Muti says, stretching out on the couch. His feet are touching Yongju’s leg. “How romantic would it be to propose on New Year’s? Come on, you have to imagine it. The look on his face… it’d be the best, right?”
Yongju does pause to imagine it, Shuchen’s eyes lit up with delight and disbelief, maybe his hands going over his gaping mouth, maybe tears escaping from his eyes. But, then his mind slips off to his worst fear (a muttered “oh, no, I’m so sorry-”) and he shakes his head vehemently. “No, Muti, you’ve gone fucking insane. I’m not proposing to Shuchen, especially not on New Year’s.”
Muti sits upright with newfound vigor, grabbing Yongju’s sleeve. “Why not?! You’ve been dating for almost three years, you guys are the most disgustingly in-love couple I’ve ever seen in my life, so what is the point of not getting married?”
“Because what if he doesn’t want to?” Yongju means to spit the words back, but he ends up sounding like he’s about to cry. “We’ve- We’ve never talked about it, not really… I mean, we established up top that we were going to work, y’know, but… not forever.”
“That makes it more of a surprise,” Muti says eagerly, shaking Yongju’s shoulders slightly. “Come on, you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t totally say yes. He loves you, dude.”
And, sure, Shuchen may love Yongju, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend forever with him. Yongju lets his next round of rebukes die, electing to instead rest his head on the back of the couch and groan to himself. Muti rests his forehead on Yongju’s shoulder, hands still fisted in his shirt sleeve.
Yongju stares up at the ceiling and says, “Where would I get a ring?”
Muti perks up instantly. “I can give you my mom’s engagement ring, you can work out real rings later. It’s short notice, right? New Year’s is two days away.”
Shit. Yongju hadn’t realized. “Oh, god, it is. Uh, that… that would work.”
Muti looks like he’s about to burst into excited flame. “I can’t believe this is going to happen, for real, I just- I think I’m going to cry.”
“Please, fucking stop.”
So. Muti hooks Yongju up with the promised ring and suggests some things for him to say. Yongju promptly shoves Muti away and ignores Muti’s delighted giggles.
Shuchen promised to come over tonight so he and Yongju could have a private little New Year’s Eve party. Qibo is having one at his fancy house, but Yongju could honestly give a shit less, and thus Shuchen is the same. For Yongju’s sake, Muti is going to make himself scarce. A blessing.
Ten approaches and with it, Yongju’s fears grow. He keeps running through all kinds of negative scenarios in his head, ones where Shuchen leaves him hanging or tells him no or breaks up with him on the spot. He finds his heart hammering in his chest long before Shuchen knocks on the door, and even worse once he’s face to face with him.
“H-Hi,” Yongju stammers out, and Shuchen smiles.
“You seem awful nervous, is everything okay?” Shuchen asks, seeming slightly concerned.
“Oh, no, I’m- I’m fine.” Yongju is far from fine, but it’d ruin everything if he had Shuchen worrying about him so early into the night. “Uh, come in.” Yongju says belatedly, stepping aside to let Shuchen into his apartment.
Shuchen seats himself on the couch, presenting a bag and pulling a bottle of whiskey out of it, only half full. “It’s not New Year’s without liquor,” Shuchen explains when he sees Yongju looking curiously. Yongju agrees with a slight nod.
So, the clock crawls to midnight. Yongju tries to refrain from drinking too much, because he’s terrified if his brain gets hazy his words will come out all wrong. He’s terrified beyond that, too, but that’s another matter. Yongju holds his breath as the commentator on TV announces the beginning of the countdown, and it truly feels like the sort of ‘now or never’ moment that Yongju is never going to experience again.
His heart seizes when he runs his fingers over his pocket and feels the ring, still there, ready and waiting. All that’s left is for Yongju to fucking do it.
Yongju clears his throat, prompting Shuchen to look his way. Shuchen seems sober enough that whatever his answer is won’t be clouded by liquor, which is a small blessing. “Uh, Shuchen,” Yongju begins, swallowing thickly. “I- I’ve been thinking, lately… wait, that’s really lame. Uh, let’s- uh. I love you a lot, Shuchen.”
“I love you too,” Shuchen replies, genuine. “What’s this about?”
Yongju feels fear climbing up his throat, guaranteeing that whatever he ends up saying is not going to be pretty. “I- I really, I was just- almost four years of dating you, I can’t- I can’t see myself with anyone else, Shuchen, so I just- I really want to… to marry you. I want us to get married.”
There seems to be a few moments of Shuchen processing his words, trying to gauge how much Yongju is bullshitting him right now, before he licks his lips and says, “Are you serious?”
Yongju finally remembers to get the ring out of his pocket and tries to gracefully slide onto one knee on the floor, instead banging the side of his foot against his coffee table. He chokes down a curse and instead takes Shuchen’s hand in his. “I’m serious, babe.”
Shuchen covers his mouth with one hand and Yongju sees tears glistening in his eyes. He panics for a few short (long) moments before Shuchen nods, spreading his fingers apart in silent invitation. Yongju slides the ring onto his finger, notes the way it’s just a little too big, and then heaves himself back onto the couch so he can pull Shuchen close to him.
Yongju notices, right before he buries his face into Shuchen’s shoulder, that they completely missed the countdown. You win some, you lose some.
(And Yongju has won a whole lot.)
“You know what?” Muti says, munching on a piece of toast intended to sate his hangover a little bit.
“What?” Yongju replies begrudgingly.
“Really thought you were going to chicken out at the last minute. I was totally expecting to be receiving my future engagement ring back this morning, but lo…”
“God, would you shut up. I’m not that much of a pussy.”
“Experience says otherwise.”
“You know, Wu Muti? You’re a prick and I hope your hangover kills you.”
“Thanks, dear.”