Work Text:
Venka first met Xiaojun at a WayV fansign in Shanghai, summer of 2023. She was twenty-four and single, fresh off another bad Tinder date, and Nezha—who was supposed to be her future husband according to twenty years of family planning—had told her fanmeets were beneath them both. So she'd gone alone, posted a selfie with the caption "guess who's too poor taste for some people 💅" and bought herself a front-row spot out of spite.
Xiaojun had signed her album, looked up with that smile, and asked what she did for work. When she said content creator, he seemed actually interested. Asked about her favorite spots in Shanghai, which neighborhoods she liked shooting in. The whole thing lasted maybe three minutes, but she milked it for content on XHS for weeks, because why waste good material?
Neither of them knew she'd get married eighteen months later. Hell, back then she didn't even know to whom.
💅💅💅
Venka used to say her life was a fairytale, and like any princess worth her salt, she had her jesters. Three of them.
First was Rin—Fan Runin, though Venka had called her Rin since they were kids. Dark-skinned, gorgeous in this quiet masculine way, sharp features and sharper wit. The only person who could out-sass Venka, which was saying something. Then Nezha, golden and handsome and meant to be her prince, except he spent more time performing the role than living it. And Kitay, who'd been trailing after her since elementary school with his freckles and glasses that never quite fit his face. Kitay, who somehow managed to be both completely unbothered by life and absolutely bothered by anything involving Venka.
All four of them grew up together. Birthday parties where they'd eat too much cake. Family dinners where the adults would drink baijiu and talk stocks. Summers at each other's houses, sticky with humidity and boredom. They knew each other's tells, each other's parents, each other's worst haircuts from middle school.
Kitay had been in love with Venka since they were eight. Everyone knew except Venka. He carried her backpack. Brought her snacks during piano practice. Waited outside her tutoring sessions. Suffered through her terrible middle school poetry phase where everything rhymed with 'heart' and 'apart.' Never complained once. Just showed up, unbothered and unshakeable, like gravity.
When they got to university and Venka started using dating apps, Kitay became the world's most pathetic best friend. The one who helped her pick outfits for first dates, responding to her frantic selfies with things like "the black one" in the most monotone energy possible, then showing up anyway when the date inevitably went south. Who read her text message drafts at two in the morning with "just send it" as his only feedback. Who came to get her when things went sideways, which they did, often.
"You know you don't have to keep doing this," Venka had told him once, mascara smudged, sitting in his passenger seat after another disaster.
"I know," Kitay had said, pulling into traffic like this was just another Tuesday. Which, for him, it was.
Nezha, meanwhile, had been the golden boy. Handsome, rich, said the right things at family gatherings. Posted well. Looked perfect in photos. For years, Venka figured she'd marry him eventually. That's what their families wanted, what everyone expected. Just what you did.
Until Nezha fell in love with Rin.
Their Rin. The one who'd been there since day one. Middle-class among their old money families, worked at a bookstore, didn't own a single designer bag, never cared what anyone thought about any of it. When Nezha told the group about his feelings, Venka had actually laughed with relief.
"Thank god," she'd said, not even trying to be polite about it. "I never wanted to marry you anyway."
"Wait, really?" Nezha looked genuinely stunned.
"Nezha. Babe. We've known each other since we were eight. Have I ever looked at you like that?"
Rin had been sitting there looking mortified. "Are we really having this conversation right now?"
"Apparently," Kitay had said, fighting a smile, sipping his coffee like he was watching the world's most entertaining tennis match.
What drove Venka crazy was what came after. Suddenly Nezha was posting long captions about looking beyond status and finding authenticity and real connection. Like he'd discovered fire. Like he'd invented caring about people for who they were. Like Rin hadn't been their friend for literal decades, like none of them had ever cared she was middle-class.
"He's exhausting," Rin sighed to Venka and Kitay one afternoon, scrolling through another Instagram post. "Does he ever just exist without narrating it?"
Venka had laughed so hard she snorted bubble tea. "Oh my god, I thought I was the only one who noticed. It's like he thinks he invented class consciousness."
"You literally never cared that I was middle-class," Rin said flatly. "But he's the enlightened one now, apparently."
"Listen, you can have him," Venka said with a wave of her hand. "But I reserve the right to roast his captions for the rest of my natural life."
"Deal. You're still my princess anyway. He's just... there."
Kitay had just sat there with his coffee, watching Venka laugh with Rin, thinking how beautiful she looked when she smiled like that. Not that he'd ever say it out loud. He had a reputation for being chill to maintain.
That was the difference. Rin had always been real, no performance. Just friendship. The contrast made Venka notice other things too. Like how Kitay never made a big show of anything, never needed to announce his feelings or actions to the world. He just showed up. Always. For everything. While Nezha was crafting the perfect caption about authenticity, Kitay was already halfway across the city because Venka had texted "help" with zero context, and he'd left without asking questions.
The night everything changed was in October 2023. Venka had gone on a date with some artist type from an app. He'd seemed interesting in his photos, talked about his work in vague passionate terms that should have been a red flag, but turned out to be painfully boring in person. Then he ghosted her halfway through dinner. Literally said he was going to the bathroom and never came back.
"The audacity," she'd texted Kitay. "I'm too hot for this."
"You are," he'd texted back. Simple. Unbothered. True.
Then it started pouring and her ride app crashed and she was standing under an awning in Xintiandi, mascara probably running, feeling stupid and small and pissed.
Kitay found her twenty minutes later, soaking wet because he'd run from the subway station. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his white shirt see-through, his glasses fogged up. He'd left a client meeting. Just walked out during reconciliation season, when accountants don't leave meetings for anything.
"You left work?" she'd asked, stunned. "Kitay, you never leave work."
"You needed me." He'd said it like it was obvious. Like there was never any other choice he could have made.
She started crying then, really crying, and Kitay pulled her close and she felt his heart racing under her cheek—actually racing, this boy who never seemed affected by anything was nervous for her—and realized. Oh. Oh.
"I can't do this anymore," Kitay had said quietly, and Venka's stomach dropped because she thought he meant them, their friendship, everything. But then he kept going, and his voice wasn't calm anymore, wasn't unbothered. "I can't watch you go on dates with people who don't deserve you. I can't pick you up when they hurt you and pretend I'm fine with it. I've been in love with you since we were kids, Venka. Since before I even knew what love was. And I know you don't feel the same way, but I can't keep doing this."
He'd never raised his voice at her before. Never been anything but gentle and patient and kind. Never let anything ruffle him. But here he was, soaking wet in the rain, finally losing his composure, and it was all for her.
She kissed him right there in the rain, grabbed his stupid wet collar and pulled him down and kissed him. He made this surprised sound against her mouth before his hands came up to cup her face like she was something precious. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like he couldn't believe this was real. Then Venka smiled against his lips and Kitay smiled back, and suddenly they were both laughing and kissing at the same time, rain pouring down around them, not caring that they were soaked through or that people were staring.
Kitay pulled back just enough to look at her, glasses all fogged up and raindrops on his eyelashes. Venka had never seen him look more beautiful. "How did I not see it?" she whispered.
Instead of answering, he kissed her again. This time trailing soft kisses from her lips to her jaw, her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Like he was trying to memorize every inch of her face. Each kiss was gentle, careful, punctuated by little smiles she could feel against her skin. His freckles were more visible when he was this close, his eyes bright behind his wet glasses.
"I love you," she said, and she felt him smile against her neck before he kissed her there too.
"I know," he murmured. "I've loved you my whole life. Just been waiting for you to catch up."
"Excuse me? Waiting for me to catch up?"
"Yeah." And there was that nonchalant tone again, even though his hands were shaking slightly in her hair. "You're a little slow sometimes. It's cute."
She laughed and kissed him again, and again, both of them grinning like idiots between kisses until they were breathless and shivering and so far gone neither of them cared.
Looking back, she'd been searching for Kitay in everyone else. The quiet attention. The way Xiaojun had seemed genuinely interested in her work, no performance, just curiosity. She'd even realized her WayV bias had the same energy—pretty, kind, talented but humble about it. She'd been trying to find pieces of Chen Kitay in strangers when he'd been right there the whole time, unbothered by her chaos, anchored by her existence.
💅💅💅
They kept it secret at first. Not because they were ashamed, but because it felt too new, too precious to share. Like if they told anyone, it might break the spell. For a year they snuck around like teenagers. Kitay would pick her up from content shoots and they'd drive to parts of Shanghai where no one knew them. Venka would show up at his apartment after work with takeout and attitude about her day, and he'd listen to her rant about brand deals and difficult clients with that calm expression that made her want to kiss him stupid.
"You're not even listening," she'd accuse.
"The brand wanted you to promote their skincare but the lighting was trash and they had the audacityto suggest you weren't using the right filter," he'd repeat back, pulling her onto the couch. "I'm listening. You're just hot when you're annoyed."
"I'm always hot."
"I know."
They'd fall asleep on his couch watching dramas, his glasses crooked on his face, her using his shoulder as a pillow, and Venka would think about how easy this was. How she could be completely herself—bratty and demanding and occasionally ridiculous—and he'd just take it all in stride.
Rin and Nezha figured it out after about six months. Rin had taken one look at Kitay helping Venka with her coat at a group dinner, the way his hand lingered at the small of her back, and texted her later that night: stop pretending we're all idiots.
When their parents suggested the match a year into their secret relationship—October 2024, a full year after the rain—Venka and Kitay had to leave the room separately to laugh. The universe had a sense of humor.
Venka texted Rin immediately. My parents want me to marry Kitay.
Rin's response came back in seconds. FINALLY. I've been waiting for your families to catch up.
We've been dating for a year and they had NO idea.
Obviously. You two are terrible at sneaking around. Nezha and I have known for months.
WHAT.
Venka. He literally has your coffee order memorized and carries your stuff everywhere. We're not blind.
Okay but now it's OFFICIAL. Parents approved and everything.
When's the wedding?
December. Small. You and Nezha better be there.
Obviously. Someone has to make sure you don't trip on your dress.
I hate you.
No you don't. Love you princess 👑
Rin showed up to the wedding in a perfectly tailored suit, looking sharper than half the relatives there. She hugged Venka before the ceremony and whispered, "He's good for you. The way he looks at you is insane."
"I know," Venka whispered back, adjusting her veil with the kind of satisfied smirk that said she knew exactly how lucky she was.
"Better than Nezha ever looked at either of us."
"I know."
Nezha showed up with Rin and spent the whole reception posting candid photos with captions about celebrating real love and supporting growth. Rin rolled her eyes so hard Venka thought they'd get stuck.
They got married quietly in December 2024, just family and close friends, and moved into an apartment in Lujiazui that Kitay insisted on paying for even though Venka's family had more money. "I want to take care of you," he'd said, adjusting his glasses in that way he did when he was trying to be serious. "Let me take care of you."
"Such a simp," she'd teased, but she'd let him. Because underneath all her sass, she loved that he wanted to.
So he did. He paid for everything—groceries, utilities, her shopping trips, her concert tickets. He worked long hours at PwC, came home exhausted, and still made sure she had fresh flowers every week and her favorite snacks stocked and asked about her day like it was the most interesting thing in the world. And when WayV announced a world tour, Kitay booked flights without being asked.
"You don't have to come to all of them," Venka had said, even though she was already screaming internally at the thought of him at a concert.
"I know," Kitay had said, the same way he always did. Like he was choosing her, every single time.
The first concert was in Seoul in February 2025, and Venka had been nervous. What if Kitay got bored? What if he regretted coming? What if this was too much? But Kitay surprised her. He researched the venue, mapped out the best photo spots, learned the fan chants phonetically even though his Mandarin was better than his Korean. During the concert he held her bag and her phone and made sure she had water, and when she looked back at him during Take Off, worried he was miserable, he was smiling. Actually smiling. Not because of WayV, but because she was happy.
"Did you have fun?" she asked afterward, both of them sweaty and exhausted in their hotel room.
"I loved watching you have fun," he said, and that's when she knew. She'd married the right person. The boy who'd loved her since elementary school had grown into a man who'd follow her to seven countries just to watch her scream at a boyband.
By the time Singapore rolled around in July 2025—their seventh concert after Seoul, Bangkok, Jakarta, two shows in Tokyo, Hong Kong, and Manila—they'd perfected their routine. Venka knew exactly what to wear to look good in photos but still be comfortable screaming for three hours. This time she'd chosen a fitted black tube top and a leather mini skirt that made her legs look incredible, paired with platform boots that gave her just enough height. Her hair was perfect, her makeup was perfect, and when she walked out of the bathroom, Kitay just stared at her with his mouth slightly open.
"Stop looking at me like that," she laughed, grabbing her bag.
"Can't help it. You're so beautiful it's actually unfair."
"Simp."
"Your simp," he'd corrected, completely unbothered by the accusation.
Singapore was humid and Kitay had planned for everything—portable fans, electrolyte drinks, portable chargers, a backup battery pack because he knew Venka would film everything and her phone would die. He'd also learned every single song, which Venka found both adorable and hilarious because he'd sing along in his off-key accountant voice while holding her bags like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You don't have to memorize them," she'd told him once.
"I like to," he'd replied with a shrug, like learning an entire K-pop discography for your wife was just normal husband behavior.
The Singapore show was incredible. Venka screamed herself hoarse during On My Youth, cried during Phantom, and Kitay made sure she got perfect videos even though his arms were tired from holding the phone steady. When Xiaojun did his solo stage, she squeezed Kitay's hand so tight, overwhelmed by how good everything was—the performance, the music, the fact that her husband was here with her, completely supportive of her ridiculous obsession with a Chinese boyband.
One night before the Singapore concert, they'd been lying in bed scrolling through WayV content, and Venka had paused on a video of Xiaojun talking about his creative process.
"You know why he's my bias?" she asked quietly.
Kitay looked over, curious. "Why?"
"He reminds me of you. The way he talks about things he cares about. How he's talented but doesn't show off. How he seems kind without performing it. When I met him in 2023, I didn't realize it yet, but I was already looking for you in other people."
Kitay's ears had turned red, the way they always did when she said things like this. "I'm not as pretty as him."
"You're prettier," she said, dead serious, and Kitay laughed and kissed her.
"You're biased."
"Completely. And correct."
After the Singapore concert ended, Venka was still bouncing off the walls in their hotel room, adrenaline still pumping, already uploading clips to XHS. "I entered the video call lottery," she said, not really expecting anything as she flopped onto the bed. "I never win these things."
Kitay kissed her temple and went back to his laptop, reviewing some files because busy season never really ended at PwC, just transformed into different flavors of chaos. Two days later, Venka was screaming at her phone.
"WHAT?" Kitay jolted upright from where he'd been dozing on the couch, glasses askew.
"I WON THE VIDEO CALL!"
"That's amazing!" He was immediately awake, focused entirely on her like nothing else in the world mattered. "When?"
"Tomorrow afternoon! Oh my god, Kitay, I can't—what do I even—"
"You'll be perfect." He pulled her down next to him, running his fingers through her hair the way that always calmed her down. "You're going to be great. He's lucky to talk to you."
She laughed at that, at his absolute certainty. "You're so biased."
"Completely. And correct."
The next day, Kitay made himself scarce when Venka's call time came up. He was good at that—knowing when to give her space, when she needed to have her moment. He went down to the hotel gym, headphones in, trying not to think about how nervous she'd been, trying to be cool about the fact that his wife was about to talk to her celebrity crush.
Venka set up her phone, checked her lighting three times, applied another layer of lip gloss, and waited for Xiaojun's face to appear on screen.
When it did, she forgot how to breathe for a second.
"Hi!" she managed, somehow keeping her voice steady even though her heart was trying to escape her chest.
"Hello!" Xiaojun smiled, warm and genuine. "Wait—have we met before? You look familiar."
"The fansign in 2023," Venka said, shocked he remembered. "In Shanghai. You asked about my job."
"Oh my god, yes! The content creator, right?" His eyes lit up with recognition. "Wow, it's so good to see you again. How have you been?"
"Really good, actually. A lot has changed since then." Venka took a breath, couldn't help the smile spreading across her face. "I got married recently."
"Congratulations!" Xiaojun's smile widened. "That's amazing. When was the wedding?"
"December 2024. To my childhood friend, actually. Chen Kitay. He's..." She laughed, feeling her cheeks heat up. "He's been in love with me since we were kids, apparently. I was just too stupid to notice."
"That's so sweet," Xiaojun said, and he sounded like he meant it. "Did he come to the concert?"
"He comes to all of them. We've been to seven shows now." Venka pulled up a photo on her phone, the one of Kitay outside the Singapore venue holding the giant Xiaojun slogan, mid-singing with this earnest expression that made her heart hurt. "This is him at the Singapore show a few days ago. He learned all the words to On My Youth on the plane."
Xiaojun burst out laughing. "Wait, that's incredible. He's really out there supporting you."
"He's ridiculous," Venka said, but she was grinning like an idiot. "He pays for everything too. All the flights, hotels, tickets. I have my own money, but he insists. Says he wants to take care of me. Like I said, ridiculous."
"Relationship goals," Xiaojun said, shaking his head with this fond smile. "Seriously. That's the kind of support everyone should have."
"I'm going to post about it on XHS after this," Venka admitted. "I want people to know. I want to brag about how lucky I am."
"You should," Xiaojun encouraged. "Share that happiness. And hey, congratulations again. I'm really happy for you."
When the call ended, Venka sat there for a moment, still smiling, her heart full. Xiaojun had been so sweet, so genuine, and she couldn't wait to tell Kitay every detail. Right on cue, Kitay came back up from the gym, hair damp, looking concerned in that understated way he had.
"How'd it go?" He sat next to her, and she immediately curled into his side.
"He remembered me," she said softly, still amazed. "From 2023. Can you believe that?"
Kitay kissed the top of her head. "Of course he did."
She pulled out her phone and started typing, and Kitay watched her work. He loved watching her like this—tongue poking out when she concentrated, the way she'd pause and smile at something before continuing, completely in her element. She was so beautiful it hurt sometimes.
When she finished, she showed him the draft.
Just had my WayV video call and I told Xiaojun-ge that I got married! 💕 To Chen Kitay, my childhood friend who's been in love with me since elementary school (I was blind, okay?). Thank you for funding my delusions and following WayV across Asia with me. Thank you for learning the words to On My Youth on the plane. Thank you for holding my Xiaojun slogan outside the venue yesterday and singing your heart out even though you can't hit the high notes. Thank you for being the real jester to this princess. My new jesters are WayV, but you'll always be the original. The best one. The only one who matters.
Xiaojun-ge said we're relationship goals and I'm never letting you forget it. 我爱你, Kitay. Forever.
"You can't post that," Kitay said, mortified, even as he was fighting a smile.
"Watch me." She hit post before he could protest, because of course she did.
Within an hour, the comments were flooded. Screenshots started circulating on WayV stan Twitter, and the photo she'd shown Xiaojun started making the rounds—Kitay standing outside the venue, holding a professional-looking Xiaojun slogan, mid-singing with this earnest expression on his face. He looked ridiculous and in love and completely whipped.
"We're going viral," Venka said gleefully, scrolling through the retweets and showing him the screen.
"Great," Kitay muttered, but he was reading the comments calling him relationship goals and his ears were doing that red thing again.
"Everyone's saying you're the standard now."
"I'm just your husband."
"Yeah." She kissed him, soft and sweet. "The best husband. My golden retriever husband who pretends he's too cool to care."
"I am too cool to care," he said, pulling her closer. "Just not about you."
Later, when people would ask how they got together, Venka would tell them the rain story—how Kitay had finally, after years of patience, lost his composure and confessed everything, how she'd kissed him and realized she'd been looking for him in everyone else. But the part she didn't usually mention was how he'd been there all along, through everything. How he'd driven her to dates with other people and waited outside to make sure she got home safe, how he'd pretended to be happy for her when she talked about maybe marrying Nezha even though it must have killed him, how he'd funded every concert trip without complaint because he knew WayV made her happy and her happiness was all that mattered to him.
The XHS post got three million views in three days. WayV fans were calling them relationship goals, someone made an edit of Kitay holding the Xiaojun slogan set to Phantom, and her follower count jumped to 800K overnight. Nezha, still dating Rin and posting performative captions about authenticity, had liked the post without commenting. Rin had texted Venka: he spent 20 minutes crafting a comment and then deleted it. just thought you should know 😂
But Kitay just kept going to work, coming home, asking about her day. He didn't care about going viral or being called the standard or any of it. He'd been devoted to her since elementary school, back when she only saw him as a friend. A few million people noticing what he'd been doing for decades didn't change anything.
"Do you ever regret it?" Venka asked him one night, both of them jet-lagged and tangled up in their bed back in Shanghai. "All those years of waiting?"
Kitay pushed his glasses up—he'd forgotten to take them off before lying down—and looked at her like she'd asked if he regretted breathing.
"Not even once," he said. "You're the only thing I've ever been sure about."
And that was the thing about Chen Kitay. He didn't need to post about it or perform it or make a show of loving her. He just did it, every single day, in portable chargers and concert tickets and running through rain and learning boyband songs and holding her bags and making sure she ate and remembering how she took her coffee and a thousand other tiny things that added up to a life. Unbothered by everything except her.
Venka had gone from three childhood jesters to six new ones in WayV, but Kitay was different. He wasn't performing for her. He was just hers. Had always been hers.
Sometimes she'd post photos on XHS. Kitay asleep on the plane to another city. Kitay holding her shopping bags outside a store with the most long-suffering expression. Kitay with a WayV lightstick looking confused but supportive. Her followers ate it up. Prince Consort Kitay, they called him. The king of green flags. The standard. But her favorite photo was one Rin had taken at their wedding: Kitay looking at Venka like she hung the moon, and Venka looking at him like she'd finally found home. No performance. No caption needed. Just them.
Rin had sent it to her later with the message: your jester found his princess. about damn time.
"Do you think this is weird?" Kitay had asked once, after a particularly long day of back-to-back meetings. "That I'm this obsessed with you?"
"Absolutely," Venka had said without hesitation. "It's completely unhinged."
"Should I stop?"
"Don't you dare."
"I love you," she said, and she meant it the way you mean permanence. The way you mean home.
"I know," Kitay said, smiling in the dark. "I've always known."
And somewhere in Seoul, Xiaojun probably saw the post or didn't, remembered the girl from the fansign or didn't, but it didn't really matter. Because this wasn't a story about a celebrity crush or a viral moment or a princess and her jesters.
It was simpler than that.
It was just a boy who'd loved a girl since they were eight, stayed unbothered by the world but completely bothered by her, and a girl who was too sassy for her own good but finally realized he'd been right there all along.