Work Text:
Hey. Hey, there. This is a work of fiction, and therefore not based in reality. This is just the imaginings of a humble author, trying to make something beautiful from the glimpses we see, and the potential he sees within.
The languages, however, are very real, and any and all (constructive) corrections are super, super welcome.
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人之初 ( rén zhī chū ) People at birth,
性本善 ( xìng běn shàn ) Are naturally good (/kind-hearted).
性相近 ( xìng xiāng jìn ) Their natures are similar,
習相遠 ( xí xiāng yuǎn ) (But) their habits make them different (from each other)
Chapter 1:
一日三秋 (yīrìsānqiū)
“One day, three autumns” : one day feels like three years; used to express that you miss someone.
He was choking.
Zheng Yunlong couldn’t breathe because he was choking .
Did it say something about him that his first thought was whether this counted as practice expanding his lung capacity?
Zheng Yunlong had paused to take a breath, promptly choked on his own spit, and was now in the throes of a coughing fit. Amidst the pain, he considered whether this was caused by the dust in the room. Maybe he needed to align his practice times with the cleaners’ schedule…
Tears in his eyes, Zheng Yunlong sighed as his body finally relaxed. His breath control, always a struggle when moving onstage (Ayunga cannot convince him to join him at the gym; there must be another, less tiring way to strengthen his core…somehow…), had been killing him slowly ever since he woke up last Thursday with a headache that’s been progressively getting worse. Maybe 班长 was right and he should be sleeping more…
Nah.
Zheng Yunlong paused his mid-practice warm-up to irritably blow his hair out of his eyes—artfully long had its disadvantages, though never outweighing the singular benefit of perpetual, easy charm. A soft chuckle made him turn, mouth twisting in embarrassment. Had he forgotten to close the practice room door? Weird.
“So this is how the great Dalong beats us plebeians in every play.” Zhou Shen playfully tugged at his recently shorn hair. “Should I grow my hair out, too, 王子老师?”
Zheng Yunlong groaned. “What, and have you become Angel part two, electric boogaloo? Zhou Shen, I can’t go through that abuse again, don’t even joke about—“ A chill of dread cuts him off to stare at his friend in horror.
His friend who is grinning, devilishly cute. “Who said I was joking, Long哥?” The sparkle in his brown eyes let Zheng Yunlong know: he wouldn’t win this.
Zheng Yunlong wants new friends.
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The only reason Zhou Shen was wandering the long corridors of the practice rooms during his lunch break was because he, ironically, wanted some peace and quiet. Or at least, an excuse to blast his favourite depressing song 5 times in a row while he lays on the floor and tries not to cry as he inevitably ends up singing along.
You know, a normal Tuesday.
His usual gets thrown by a frustrated snarl. On Tuesdays, though, he ignores the suffering of others to focus on his own. Unfortunately, there’s a familiar timbre to this one, and Zhou Shen is weak.
“…嘎子哥, 你好了吗？“
Zhou Shen flinched as a cold, indifferent gaze fell upon him.
Immediately, the gaze became apologetic. “Sorry, sorry, Shen弟, I didn’t mean to—ahh, come sit down, have some 馒头 (mántou), oh, are you cold? I can—“
Before he realised it, Zhou Shen was bundled up in Ayunga’s spare hoodie, 馒头 in one hand, cup of green tea (where the fuck did Ayunga get it, and why was it so good??) in the other, and feeling very confused.
“—have to eat more, Shen弟, the winters here are too cold.” He stared at Zhou Shen intensely enough for him to automatically take another bite of his somehow-still-warm 馒头. Ayunga nodded imperiously, like Zheng Yunlong might mid-performance, then finally settled on the piano bench next to Zhou Shen’s chair. “So, what’s up?”
Zhou Shen blinked furiously at this man . “Did you just ask me —oh my gods.” He rolled his eyes, about to fling his hand out, only to just barely keep from splashing the room—piano and all—with hot tea. Ayunga’s stern gaze kept him from putting his impromptu meal down. He glared back as he stuffed his face quickly enough to get indigestion. This was important, dammit. But also: delicious.
“Feel better?”
This smug bastard.
Zhou Shen glared harder. “ I’m not the one so upset a wolf almost infiltrated our practice hall to reply!”
Ayunga’s thick eyebrows drew together in confusion, before leaping up in surprise and settling on scrunching with laughter. “ Shen弟! I was practicing my Hyde for another session with Dalong,” he said, smile wide.
“Oh…”
Ayunga had been having trouble finding his own version of Hyde. Hearing Zheng Yunlong’s so often had made it difficult to think of any other way of playing Hyde, let alone any Hyde remotely comparable.
Zhou Shen had also been hearing…rumors. They all heard them, or felt them in the way their colleagues interacted with them. The latest criticism from their masterclass with 廖(Liao)老师 made Ayunga’s pencil-covered sheet music and the way their straight-backed 班长 suddenly seemed fit to ring church bells as Quasimodo pretty understandable. Zhou Shen had been on his way to his own version, after all.
Still.
“I’m just a bit…worried, about you, 嘎子哥.” He picked his words carefully, aware that Ayunga was the type to revert to his closed off, straight-laced self if you hit him just right. And that wasn’t allowed. Even if Zheng Yunlong wouldn’t hunt him down for sport and eat his carcass, which he totally would (and for far less)—Ayunga didn’t deserve to be pushed to that point. Ever.
Every time it happened…
“I just get the feeling you might be a bit more stressed than usual lately, and taking it out on yourself instead of those who actually deserve the beat-down.” He gave his friend a sad smile. “You’re the one who taught me to try and take better care of myself when these times come—and when I can’t,” he nodded to Ayunga’s thermos, “to let those who care about me help when they offer.” His smile turned rueful, self-deprecating. “It seems we’re both working up to being able to ask for help when we really need it.”
Zhou Shen firmly hugged his friend. “Thank you for taking care of me, 嘎子哥. May I do the same for you?”
Silence.
A breath.
Zhou Shen slowly took another.
Ayunga shuddered.
Zhou Shen tightened his grip.
“I still need to check in on Dalong.” They were steadfastly ignoring how red Ayunga’s eyes were, outside of Zhou Shen looking away while passing him his handkerchief. “He’s been kinda down lately, so he’s been snapping at anything that moves, but instead of resting the idiot’s been pushing himself harder , as if it’s a fight.” The annoyed look on his face was offset by the fondness in his voice, and Zhou Shen’s heart…did something.
“…Can’t you focus on yourself for once, 嘎子哥?”
Ayunga actually looked apologetic, but Zhou Shen narrowed his eyes, knowing it was only for the ‘imposition’ of Zhou Shen being worried about him. Idiot.
Zhou Shen huffed. “He’s my friend, too, you know.”
Ayunga’s eyes lit up.
Zhou Shen snorted. “You dork.” When had Zhou Shen ever not helped? “This is on trade . The more you take care of yourself, the more tricks I’ll pull to get your precious Dalong to rest. Deal?”
Ayunga’s caterpillar of an eyebrow lifted. “Oh? And who’s watching out for our precious Shen弟, then, hm?”
Zhou Shen scoffed. “Like you two don’t gang up on me all the time. Time to return the favor, 嘎.子.哥~.” Zhou Shen viciously used his most saccharine voice, smirking in victory when Ayunga had to cover his face to hide his cringe. “When I check up on you later today, I better hear and see that you’ve been resting well, 哥哥! 弟弟 will know if you’re lying!”
Ayunga was groaning loudly.
He was also smiling.
Zhou Shen left the room smug and cackling.
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Zheng Yunlong eyes the level of his leave-in conditioner critically. 2…no, maybe 3 more uses?
He turns back to pin Zhou Shen’s short strands with a glare. “Who the fuck cuts your hair? Fire them,” he dismisses before his friend can open his mouth, “and go to mine. Hand me your planner.” He holds out a palm.
“…Planner?”
Zheng Yunlong’s glare meets his eyes, and Zhou Shen laughs. “Kidding, kidding!” Zhou Shen does his own appraisal of his friend. It’s horribly cute. “You have to clear it with me before changing anything.”
That serious expression! Zheng Yunlong never stood a chance. “Fine.”
“And , since you didn’t even say ‘please’, I get to change yours.”
Zheng Yunlong tsks. “…What for?”
“Orders from on high.”
Zheng Yunlong raises an eyebrow. Well, he at least trusted Ayunga. He passes over his personal planner app. “Don’t go on anything.”
He gets a derisive snort for his efforts. “Same to you, if I ever give you my phone.” Before Zheng Yunlong can question what he means by that, Zhou Shen plunges himself into his bag, only to immediately bounce back out to lob something at his friend’s head.
Zheng Yunlong catches it, only to see a well-loved, spiral-bound notebook.
“Don’t drop or damage it.” It’s said with the same gravitas as ‘I’ll be forced to kill you, 哥 , and I don’t want to do that. But I will if you make me.’
What the fuck did he get himself into?
He opens the countertenor’s planner to find…organised chaos. Between neat colors, pencil scribblings in various stages of haste are sandwiched, pulled, and sprawled all over the pages. Thankfully, there’s a ‘Masterplan’ at the front, essential appointments neatly pencilled in. “Show me where your hair appointments are, old man. Who still uses paper these days?” Zheng Yunlong lazily teases.
Zhou Shen barely looks up from his furious scrutiny of Zheng Yunlong’s phone to give him a flat stare, then rolls his eyes and pushes into Zheng Yunlong’s space.
He gets a whiff of Zhou Shen’s cologne—citrusy, but with something deeper beneath it—before he can push the man back.
“I only had another 2 scheduled, here and here,” he says idly, flipping through to the next two months, “but I have a day planned every so often to make the appointments, so just look for the green comb and that’ll be hair-related.” He waits for Zheng Yunlong to nod, then goes back to his perch on Zheng Yunlong’s bed, already absorbed in Zheng Yunlong’s Calendar App. Huh.
He quickly locates the promised leaf-green comb throughout the book, noting the need to change the hair appointment phone number and adding the name and contact for his own barber on a scrap piece of paper. He grimaces at his work, grabs a sticky note from his desk, and neatly adds all the necessary changes for Zhou Shen to review.
20 minutes later, they’re returning schedules.
“You want to go with me to the first appointment?”
Zheng Yunlong nods.
Zhou Shen looks confused, but shrugs. “As long as you okay my changes.”
Zheng Yunlong sneers at the ‘go to sleep at 8:30 pm’ on the nights before their 8am rehearsals, but considering that the rehearsal hall is across the city, sighs and asks for 10pm, instead.
Zhou Shen gives him a dangerous smile. “If you’ll eat breakfast with 嘎子哥 before morning rehearsal, I’ll give you 9:30pm.”
Zheng Yunlong pouts. “But he eats so early ,” he whines.
Zhou Shen is equally unrepentant, skipping their usual argument of ‘noon is late , not normal’. “And you don’t eat enough, so it all works out. What do you say, Long哥? A whole 60 minutes more of quiet, peaceful, awake time with your favourite 班长, or going to sleep 3 and half hours earlier than you usually do?”
Well, it’s not really a choice.
“Fine. But you have to come to all the breakfasts, too.”
Zhou Shen shoots him an indecipherable look. “…If you really want me to, sure.” He goes back to messing with Zheng Yunlong’s phone. “I don’t know why you would. I always eat breakfast.”
“I want you to suffer with me.”
Zhou Shen looks confused, but goes along with it. “Oh no. Breakfast with my best friends. However will I cope?” His usually energetic voice is hilariously monotone.
Zheng Yunlong takes his victory with dignity. “Now, let’s fire your failure of a barber and call our wonderful, real barber to set up a joint appointment.”
“…you’re having entirely too much fun with this, Long哥.”
Zhou Shen trying to steal his planner back while Zheng Yunlong languidly took down his newly ex-barber really was entirely too much fun. He gets a cramp from all the laughing—and a new bruise from Zhou Shen’s surprisingly sharp elbows.
Zheng Yunlong narrows his eyes at the offending weapons. This guy really needs to eat more. Luckily, Zheng Yunlong’s just won ample opportunity to force-feed him.
The real winner is Zheng Yunlong, after all.