Work Text:
Gong Jun was upset. No. Not quite. He was disappointed. Disillusioned. Frustrated. And even if he was being a bit (or very) dramatic, he had every right to be.
It was all about Zhang Zhehan. Of course, it was all about him. Gong Jun was utterly devastated by his co-star’s hardheadedness, by the way he refused to notice even the most obvious hints. At times, Gong Jun wondered how someone as intelligent and perceptive as Zhang Zhehan could be so impossibly dense when it came to anything resembling romantic relationships.
The only people oblivious to Gong Jun’s feelings for his co-star were the slightly deaf, half-blind janitor and – who would’ve thought! – Zhang Zhehan himself. Everyone else was perfectly aware, even the extras who spent no more than a couple of hours on set. At first, people laughed at him; some even tossed in a few cheeky, double-edged jokes. But the teasing soon gave way to sympathetic sighs. By the end of the second month of filming, absolutely everyone pitied Gong Jun – even Xiao Yu, Zhang Zhehan’s assistant and best friend.
“Be strong,” Xiao Yu said, giving Gong Jun a pat on the shoulder after Zhang Zhehan once again missed an utterly obvious signal. “One day he’ll get it.” Though, judging by his tone, he didn’t sound confident at all.
More than once, Gong Jun felt like giving up. What was the point of chasing a man who clearly wasn’t interested?
Except Zhang Zhehan was interested.
Every time he looked at Gong Jun with those star-bright eyes, every time he held his hand between takes, every time he shyly smiled in thanks for the apple Gong Jun offered him, it became painfully obvious that his feelings were not one-sided.
The problem was that Zhang Zhehan had somehow convinced himself that all this attention from Gong Jun was nothing more than friendly gestures from a colleague.
It wasn’t that Gong Jun was incapable of being more direct, but he was afraid he might be reading too much into Zhang Zhehan’s behavior. He was in love – obviously – and a love-struck brain was hardly a reliable source of information.
He just needed a subtle hint. Something subtler than the daily apple offerings, subtler than the homemade fish-flour noodles, subtler than inviting Zhehan to a movie date in front of the entire film crew.
Gong Jun desperately needed a way to signal his feelings in a manner even Zhang Zhehan couldn’t possibly ignore.
And such an opportunity soon presented itself. At some point, Zhang Zhehan began musing about the script's lack of kissing scenes. He would sigh that Lao Wen and Ah Xu would never get the romantic resolution. These monologues happened often enough to start annoying the director – while making Gong Jun’s heart skip sweetly at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Zhang Zhehan was hinting at something too.
The plan formed quickly and was devious in its simplicity. All he needed was the right moment, a secluded spot, and a stroke of luck.
Perhaps Gong Jun’s prayers in the temple of Goddess Guanyin hadn’t been in vain, and he truly was her favorite, because the perfect chance to execute his PLAN appeared rather quickly.
It happened while they were sitting in Gong Jun’s trailer, going over their lines together in preparation for an intense day of filming. At some point, Zhang Zhehan threw his script aside in frustration and slumped back against the couch with a weary sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Gong Jun asked, looking up from his own script. “Still unhappy about the lack of a kissing scene?”
“Aren’t you? Don’t you think it would make the script better?” Zhang Zhehan swallowed the bait eagerly, unknowingly tossing more fuel onto the fire of Gong Jun’s madness.
“I’m glad there aren’t any kissing scenes in this drama,” Gong Jun replied with a nonchalant shrug.
Zhang Zhehan shot him a sharp look.
“Why?”
“Well,” Gong Jun pretended to be embarrassed, “you know I’m not good at kissing scenes. Even my fans make fun of me for it. They even made a compilation video.”
Gong Jun could swear he saw Zhang Zhehan’s ear twitch with interest – exactly like a curious cat’s. Excellent. Everything was going according to plan.
“Show me,” he demanded.
“You won’t want to see it,” Gong Jun deflected, still playing the innocent.
“I doubt you’re as bad as you’re trying to make yourself sound,” Zhang Zhehan countered, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Pull it up.”
“Alright,” Gong Jun agreed far too easily for it not to look suspicious.
Well… it would have looked suspicious to anyone who wasn’t Zhang Zhehan.
Gong Jun rummaged through his phone, pretending to search for the necessary video, even though it had been sitting in his bookmarks for quite some time.
“Here,” he said, handing his smartphone to Zhang Zhehan.
Zhang Zhehan spent a moment studying the short clip with an absurdly serious expression of professional interest. Gong Jun watched him in silence, trying his best not to grin like an idiot.
“Well,” Zhang Zhehan said at last, after examining the video with the meticulousness of a digital forensics expert, “it’s not that bad.”
“You’re just being nice to me.”
“No, seriously.” Zhang Zhehan turned toward him with a determined expression. “It’s not bad,” he said, tapping the phone screen where a freeze-frame from one of Gong Jun’s recent dramas was displayed. “You’re probably just too fixated on the emotions you’re trying to portray.”
“Isn’t that the whole point?” Gong Jun jumped into the discussion eagerly, barely containing his excitement at how easily Zhang Zhehan had walked straight into the trap set for him. “We’re supposed to show emotions so the audience believes us.”
“What’s the point of emotions if you treat your partner as nothing more than a physical object?”
“…A physical object?” Gong Jun repeated stupidly, realizing the conversation starting to drift in the wrong direction.
“Yes!” Zhang Zhehan confirmed with fiery enthusiasm. “It’s not about the emotions themselves – it’s about your attention to your partner. You have to show what’s happening between you two, not just what’s happening inside you for the camera.”
He tapped the screen again.
“Here you’re kissing. And technically it’s a good kiss – you could polish the technique a little, sure, but that’s not the point. It looks fine. But do you know what’s missing here? The moment when you decide to kiss. Or the moment when you realize you can’t not kiss. Do you understand?”
Zhang Zhehan’s eyes were sparkling with fervor. He looked almost possessed.
“Maybe?” Gong Jun replied uncertainly.
“Look,” Zhang Zhehan said, once again scrolling through the video, dissecting every micro-frame and explaining exactly what, in his opinion, could be improved.
Gong Jun barely listened. He simply stared blankly at the way Zhang Zhehan’s lips moved as he explained, with genuine passion, the biomechanics of an on-screen kiss. This was not how this was supposed to go. When he came up with this plan, he wanted to kiss Zhang Zhehan into oblivion – not receive a TED-Talk-style lecture. But he had no choice except to keep digging himself deeper into this spontaneous, ridiculous workshop.
“Zhang-laoshi,” Gong Jun gently interrupted his inspired monologue, “I think it would be better if you showed it in practice.”
Zhang Zhehan froze for a second, processing what he had just heard.
Gong Jun smirked darkly – so there! Even Zhang Zhehan couldn’t be so thickheaded as to miss it.
“You’re right. Theory without practice is nothing,” Zhehan agreed readily.
Gong Jun cheered inwardly. Finally!
But his triumph was short-lived. Apparently, Gong Jun had severely underestimated his co-star’s resistance to all forms of hints, because a moment later Zhang Zhehan’s expression became even more fervent than before.
“Grab a pillow,” he commanded.
“What?” Gong Jun blinked stupidly.
“The pillow,” Zhang Zhehan repeated patiently. “We’re going to practice.”
Without waiting for his answer, he grabbed two decorative pillows from the couch and handed one of them to Gong Jun. Gong Jun accepted it, moving as if in a dream, still not fully understanding how the hell they had ended up here. His carefully constructed, cunning plan was on the verge of total collapse.
Zhang Zhehan got to his feet, pulling Gong Jun up with him.
“Look,” he said, turning sideways and holding the pillow out in front of him. “Imagine this is your partner. Before you kiss them, you have to prepare the ground for the kiss. You look at them and realize you want to kiss them. Your whole body has to communicate that desire.”
Zhang Zhehan’s explanation sounded dead serious. Every word was accompanied by unexpectedly intimate touches against the fabric, and the look he gave that damn pillow was full of aching tenderness and hidden longing. No way in hell Gong Jun would have guessed that one day he’d be jealous of a pillow, but here he was. Trapped inside a psychedelic nightmare, watching the man he had wanted to kiss for the past two months flirt with a piece of couch decor.
Unable to endure another second of this insane master class, Gong Jun stepped forward and tore the cursed pillow from Zhang Zhehan’s hands. He tossed both pillows aside with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
“I get it,” he said, catching Zhang Zhehan’s shocked look. “Now I want to put all your advice into practice.”
And before Zhang Zhehan could say anything, Gong Jun pulled him in with firm resolve. His right hand settled on the slender waist with confidence and intent, while his left rose and brushed gently against Zhang Zhehan’s cheek, sliding down to trace the line of his cheekbone before lifting his chin. Gong Jun even gave both of them that very moment before – a brief pause where their breaths mingled – to fully feel the inevitability of what was about to happen.
And then – the kiss.
All the theory Zhang Zhehan had been so enthusiastically explaining for the past half hour instantly flew out of Gong Jun’s head. Because no theory could have prepared him for the softness and sweetness of those plush lips, for the quiet involuntary sigh, for the way Zhang Zhehan’s eyelids fluttered shut, or for the fact that his narrow, sculpted waist was finally in Gong Jun’s hand and not just in his imagination. Technique instantly faded into the background, giving way to the overwhelming, dizzying joy of finally being in the moment he had been chasing for weeks.
“So,” Gong Jun exhaled, his heart somewhere up in his throat as he finally found the strength to pull back. “ How do you like it, Zhang-laoshi?”
Zhang Zhehan opened his eyes slowly, meeting him with a completely unfocused, dazed gaze. His whole body was melting in Gong Jun’s hands. But just a moment later he snapped back to himself, a spark of sudden insight lighting up his face as if he had just finished proving a complicated theorem.
“Well,” his voice was hoarse, but tinged with mischief, “that was good. But I think you need more practice, Gong-laoshi.”
Gong Jun laughed in relief and, without wasting a second, readily rose to the challenge.