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It's late, and Wei Ying doesn't want to get up. He's sitting next to his best friend, Lan Zhan, curled into his body like a snoozing cat, Lan Zhan's fingers playing with his hair. He’s so comfortable and warm, and he wants to stay like this forever. They're watching the end credits roll up on the screen, though neither of them usually wait this long after the film has finished. On a normal night, Lan Zhan or Wei Ying, depending on whose place they're at, will rise to put the DVD away and switch off the telly.
He yawns for the fifth or sixth time (he lost count ages ago) and wipes his traitorous eyes for leaking.
“I wish today was Friday,” he murmurs, and then it's so easy to let his eyes fall shut.
He hears the sound of agreement from Lan Zhan, who may or may not be in the same state as himself, which is seconds away from passing out.
“Work.” Lan Zhan mumbles.
“Yeah.”
“You could stay.” He sounds hopeful.
Or maybe that's just Wei Ying's imagination.
“You know me. I'll wake up late and not remember where I am, then it'll be too late to actually go, and I'll have to pull a sickie to save face.” Wei Ying reluctantly shifts, using Lan Zhan's shoulder to prop himself up. He's pleased when Lan Zhan laughs, opening his eyes.
The thing about Lan Zhan and his laugh is that it's never obvious. Most of the time, it's just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it crinkling at the corner of his beautiful golden eyes, and Wei Ying only noticed that the first time because those same golden eyes were sparkling differently. More intense and somehow softer. He'd pointed it out to Jiang Cheng and promptly got walloped for his trouble.
Sometimes, it's Lan Zhan's soft-looking lips, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top, and ok, Wei Ying is only a poor, weak human: he has speculated in depth about their taste, texture, colour and shape. All five star categories. But! The rare times when Wei Ying has something which startles Lan Zhan into laughing out loud, meaning making a noise about it, and that includes a small huff of exasperated amusement or an actual snicker are the best, bestest x infinity ones.
Like just now.
He makes Wei Ying so happy just by existing.
Wei Ying pushes himself up into a standing position and uses the wall to support himself as he shuffles down the hallway to the shoe rack. He's too tired to actually tie his laces because that would mean bending down, and gravity isn't exactly his friend at the moment, so he carries on to the door. He listens out for Lan Zhan picking up his keys because it's become a routine for him to see Wei Ying to the elevator safely.
(Wei Ying likes this very much. It makes him feel like he's being looked after by his favourite person.)
They stagger (mostly just Wei Ying) to the elevators, and Lan Zhan even presses the button to call it for him.
“Magic hands,” Wei Ying whispers.
He really, really likes Lan Zhan's hands. He's often pressed their hands together, palm to palm, just to see the difference between them. Wei Ying's hands are a normal size, he thinks, and yet because Lan Zhan's hands are quite bigger and definitely more refined, elegant, and paler, he makes Wei Ying feel a little helpless. Like one of those Bridgerton ladies, swooning with a fan and being rescued by the city's biggest rake. (Except that he isn't a helpless female, and Lan Zhan wouldn't know what a rake is even if it came up and hit him.)
Lan Zhan's skin smells divine, sandalwood, and musky without that fake aerosol after-odour. Maybe he uses incense when he's meditating and whatnot. Or, it could be his shampoo. Or his daily moisturising routine. Wei Ying wants to know, one day.
He's got a Filofax in his brain dedicated to everything Lan Zhan related. Because he can. And because he's a good best friend.
That's all.
The whirring sounds of protesting cables come to a grinding halt when the metal doors screech open. Wei Ying is still in his floaty, dreamy state, hardly all there with his brain firmly entrenched in marshmallow land, so he shuffles inside and grins at Lan Zhan after turning around. He's so pleased that he gets to say bye to Lan Zhan and that the last thing he gets to see is Lan Zhan's beautiful face.
That thought makes him smile even more brightly, and he raises a hand to wiggle his fingers.
“Bye, Lan Zhan. I love you,” he says just as the doors slide shut.
It's almost comically in slow motion, which happens next.
Wei Ying's pathetically dormant brain decides to zap into action, doing a roll-calling bullet pointed information dump.
Lan Zhan's face changes. (He must have seen something on Wei Ying’s face.)
Wei Ying sees the shock register on it.
His eyes, those gorgeous golden orbs, go wide.
All traces of sleep vanish.
Then he makes a dash towards where Wei Ying knows for a fact the stairwell is.
Shit.
Fuckety. Fuck. Fuck.
Ok, A-Ying, think! Wei Ying slaps his own cheek hard, hoping to reboot himself. His hand hits the stop button because his brain calculates that with Lan Zhan's long legs, he'll be faster than Wei Ying inside the elevator at reaching the ground floor. There's no way Wei Ying can avoid him like that.
And avoidance is the only way because anything else means F-e-e-l-i-n-g-s, and he's not going there. Not that he has any.
Nope.
It's a bro thing, he tells himself.
Meanwhile, he's counting seconds because now(!) his brain wants to help. It's time for maths. He knows there are exactly thirteen steps on each flight of stairs, and there's two for each floor. Lan Zhan lives on the sixth floor and these elevators are slow in comparison. That means, counting a second per step, twelve times thirteen steps equals a hundred and fifty six seconds total, plus whatever extra for opening the doors at both ends, and then waiting on the ground floor for Wei Ying to reach there. Then, when nothing happens, Lan Zhan will be too smart to hang around - he'll run back up to check if Wei Ying has changed his mind.
The count reaches a hundred and seventy and Wei Ying presses the go button again, wincing because he was ten seconds out from the alarm ringing for emergency maintenance. With any luck, Lan Zhan, he imagines, will be back on his way up when the elevator lands, so to speak. Wei Ying has to be fast, like, a bat outta hell fast, and sprint across the lobby towards freedom.
His phone pings and Lan Zhan's name pops up on the screen.
How the hell is he running and texting at the same time?? Mad skill set, Wei Ying thinks, shaking his head with apprehension. Also, how is the signal getting into this tin can?
He switches his phone off and prepares. A few quick stretches to warm up, bending his knee and grabbing his ankle so he can touch his heel to his backside on both sides, because he's nothing if not consistent, and then, the doors slide open at a snail’s pace.
His brain registers the ‘ping!’ of the elevator as he shoots out of it, his head already twisting back to where he heard the doors closing that lead to the stairwell. But then, he sees a too-familiar pale hand slam against them, holding them open. Wei Ying has got only a few seconds to make it, and his head turns back to barrel out of the doors that lead outside - but not before he sees Lan Zhan’s shocked burning eyes.
Lady luck is shining on him as he shoots like an arrow out of the building, hearing two sets of feet, his and Lan Zhan right on his heels, because there is a taxi outside having just dropped off a passenger. Wei Ying dives in and shuts the door, locking it, and thank the gods, the cab guy takes off like a getaway driver in a heist.
And because Wei Ying feels bad that he did all of this, he turns around to see his best friend run a hand through his stunningly perfect hair and watch him go, his expression one of dying hope.
Shit. He has upset Lan Zhan.
All because he's an idiot.
But now, he can't waste time on his booboo. If he knows Lan Zhan like Lan Zhan knows him, then that means Lan Zhan is going to come after him.
Wei Ying doesn’t want to think about what he did to both Lan Zhan or himself. Seeing Lan Zhan in any capacity will mean he will have to deal with the situation before he's ready to, and he doesn't want to sabotage himself. This is too important.
So, that means he can't go home, because Lan Zhan back there looked ready to follow Wei Ying wherever he's going. Jiang Cheng is also out because that's the second place Wei Ying would have chosen. Jiang YanLi is a young mother and because she's already losing sleep, Wei Ying won't disturb her with his fugitive issues. Wen Qing would probably slap some sense into him and refuse him entry. Wen Ning works night shifts, so he won't be home. Mianmian will refuse to open the door.
No…there's only one person who can help him now, and be willing to shield Wei Ying from a persistent, stubborn Lan Zhan. Wei Ying leans forward and tips the driver extra money, telling him the new address.
**************
Huaisang takes one look at him and opens the door wider.
“What did you do?” He demands.
“I knew I could count on you,” Wei Ying answers, avoiding the question.
Huaisang stares at him thoughtfully after closing his door. “Option 1, oblivion, option 2, sleep now, oblivion later.”
“The first one. I don't want to deal with my thoughts.”
“Alright. Let's build the fort.”
Wei Ying doesn’t even hesitate, he goes to Huaisang and bear-hugs him. He feels Huaisang patting his back gently.
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
What's fantastic about Huaisang is that he's a great friend. He knows what Wei Ying needs, which is to keep busy, so he directs Wei Ying where to put the chairs and how to put the fluffiest fleece blankets on the ground and save the lighter ones for the roof of their makeshift fort. They used to play like this when they were kids and it reminds them of simpler times when their biggest worries were being forced to eat vegetables. Though now they've replaced Ribena with beer and hard liquor. If Wei Ying wants to get drunk, Huaisang knows wine will take too long. He's dying of curiosity but he also knows that Wei Ying will tell him when he's ready.
Drinks are poured and drunk, rinse and repeat, over and over again.
Wei Ying is lying down with his eyes shut when he hears Huaisang talking, sounding way more sober than he should be.
“...fine. He's really upset though, so maybe wait till later? Yeah, I think so. Not first thing in the morning.”
But Wei Ying doesn’t want to think T-h-o-u-g-h-t-s right now, so he lets his brain melt into a puddle. There…that feels nice. He blinks when something soft covers him up to his neck, and sleep comes easy after that.
***************
When he wakes up the next morning, he fervently hopes yesterday was a dream. But the painkillers and the glass of water next to him say otherwise. He sits up slowly and dutifully chugs them down.
Past Wei Ying correctly predicted today was going to be a sick day, so after he feels fifty percent human again, he stands up and slowly begins to clean up after themselves. He folds the blankets meticulously, returns the chairs to their positions and very deliberately delays looking for Huaisang.
“Breakfast time!” He hears Huaisang calling, and knows his time is up.
When he goes into Huaisang’s immaculate and very much for show kitchen, he sees a number of hangover cures in the shape of food ready and waiting. There's watermelon and bananas chopped in creative shapes and toast sandwiches with a variety of fillings, and the Nectar Of The Gods, black coffee.
Huaisang works from home so Wei Ying knows they won't have to leave anytime soon. The food fortifies his resolve and makes him feel better. One more cup of coffee and then he's ready. When he looks up, Huaisang is smiling sympathetically, and he pushes Wei Ying’s phone towards him.
“I charged it for you.”
“Thanks.”
“So…tell me what happened yesterday.”
“Okay, fiiinnneee!” Wei Ying does tell him, in fits and starts. He watches Huaisang tear a piece of lettuce into tiny shreds, and he gets the feeling Huaisang isn't suffering from a hangover like he is. He finishes talking, sitting back.
“Lan Zhan phoned me last night.” Huaisang says casually.
“Oh. So that's who it was.”
“You heard us? Frankly, I'm surprised. You drank enough to fell an elephant.” He snickers, holding up his glass of orange juice to toast with Wei Ying’s coffee cup. “What are you gonna do?”
“I don't know!” Wei Ying wails, pushing his plate out of the way so he can hide his face in his arms.
“I have a suggestion.”
“You always have a suggestion,” the muffled reply comes.
“Well, yeah.”
That sounds suspiciously like “Duh!”.
“Listen, you can either get your thoughts collected here with me and no judgement, or you can make a bigger mess with Lan Zhan by yourself.”
“Well, you can fuck right off with that!” Wei Ying pushes away from the table and starts pacing.
They both know he's picked the first option.
Huaisang sits back, watching and waiting. “You know, there's a saying…I forget which culture. But the gist of it is, whatever lives in the heart leaves through the mouth. I've always liked that one. Next to ‘Actions speak louder than words’.”
“Ask me questions. I think that'll make it easier.”
“How do you feel about Lan Zhan?”
Wei Ying turns to stare at him in disbelief.
Huaisang chuckles, holding up his palms defensively. “Okay, we'll ease into that one. What are you scared of?”
“Losing him.”
“Great! Now we're getting somewhere. Why do you think you're going to lose him?”
Wei Ying thinks about how to answer that one. “Getting to be his friend, having him be my best friend, I don't know what I'd do without him.”
“You haven't answered the question. Why do you think you'll lose him?”
“Persistent, aren't we?”
“A-Ying, you need to do this. Think about it like it's an intervention. Sooner or later, you would have done something to warrant having this conversation.”
Wei Ying has definitely underestimated Huaisang. He's so sharp. “How can you tell that? Twenty-four hours ago, I didn't even know I loved him.”
“Now I will call you a liar.” Huaisang sniffs, unimpressed. He pours more juice for himself.
Wei Ying comes back to the table and sits down heavily, slumping in his seat. “The thing is,” he whispers, “it was so hard getting to be Lan Zhan’s friend. And once it happened, I realised I was in love with him. He's so perfect, A-Sang. Once we got over the rough patch, I knew. I know,” he amends, changing it from the past to the present. “But I can't say anything.”
“Too late for that,” Huaisang scoffs.
“Don't you think I know that?” Wei Ying sounds defeated, even to his own ears.
“But why do you think Lan Zhan is going to walk away from you? From what I can see, he's every bit in love with you as you are with him. You have nothing to worry about.”
“You sound waay too confident about that.”
Huaisang grabs Wei Ying’s discarded phone and switches it on. Once it's ready, the chimes of the notifications are constant. Without unlocking it, he rolls his eyes. “A-Ying, forty-two of these are messages and missed calls from just Lan Zhan. I bet he would've gone to your place first. And then hit up Jiang Cheng. In fact, if you follow the time stamps, you can work out a pattern of places or people he would have contacted to make sure you were safe.”
Okay, let's dump a whole lot of guilt on top of the confusing anxiety as well.
“Sorry,” Wei Ying mumbles.
“I'm not the one who needs to hear that. But call me a soothsayer, because I got the feeling you would be like this. A disaster waiting to happen,” he giggles. He pulls out his phone and jabs at it before handing it to Wei Ying. “Open that file.”
“What, the one that says WangXian? You gave us a ship name?” Wei Ying asks, incredulously. What. The. Fuck?
“Yes, darling. Now open it.”
Huaisang has put all sorts of pictures in it. Wei Ying randomly picks one and is surprised because it shows Wei Ying and Lan Zhan sitting on the sofa next to each other, not just close but squeezed together with not even a paper's space between them. What makes it worse is that there's space on either side of them. They don't have a single excuse to sit like that. But it gets worse. Wei Ying is talking to someone out of the picture but his hand is on Lan Zhan’s knee. Lan Zhan’s hand is very close to his, his pinky touching Wei Ying’s hand.
It is deliberate.
And worse than that is the way Lan Zhan is looking at him. His expression is so sincere, like there's nothing but love inside him and he can't keep it contained. It's like it's pouring out of him through every orifice, from every pore of his body. But it's his eyes that are the real deal. There is so much warmth, so much unconditional, limitless love just there, waiting for Wei Ying to discover it. All golden and precious and sweet.
“You said it yourself, countless times. Lan Zhan doesn't like people touching him.”
“He doesn't,” Wei Ying replies, sharper than he intended.
“Well, he seems mighty comfortable there,” Huaisang peers over the top of the screen to see which picture Wei Ying has chosen.
“That's just a fluke. No way he looks like that all the time,” Wei Ying argues. Something inside, knowing and small, protests at that.
“Alright, Sunshine, check the other pictures. See if you're right.” Huaisang smirks, sure of himself.
“Okay. I will,” Wei Ying glares at him. “That one was Wen Ning's birthday, so six months ago. Let's go back to the start of the year.” A few minutes later, he's gasping. “No way…” He mumbles, going back even further. He picks the first picture, the one Huaisang used to make this folder.
This is Lan Zhan’s birthday.
Wei Ying had been out of the country on a business trip and pulled all sorts of strings so he could make it back in time for the party. He got there just when Lan Zhan was about to cut the cake, and he got the first slice. Protesting about that got it shoved into his mouth because Lan Zhan had masked his relief at seeing him after a long absence by being affectionately mean to him. It's a bad picture, really. The darkness surrounding them makes them appear alone in the room, with just a single candle yet to be put out.
Wei Ying strokes the screen, tenderly touching Lan Zhan’s cheek because he is immortalised like this, staring back at Wei Ying as if he's the only present he wanted.
Wei Ying had crashed at his place that night, waking up on Lan Zhan’s couch with his mother's knitted crochet blanket thrown over him. Lan Zhan had made breakfast for him then, too.
It's not just that picture, though.
Every single one of those thirty-three pictures show Wei Ying and Lan Zhan in the same way. Most of them have Wei Ying doing different things, but in every single one of these, Lan Zhan remains consistent. The way he looks at Wei Ying is the same, a hundred percent adoration.
“You know, I could have taken a hundred pictures and they would've been all the same,” Huaisang remarks. “Maybe you're immune to it by now, so it doesn't affect you, but if someone looked at me like that, well … I wouldn't still be sitting here.”
Wei Ying stands up abruptly.
“Wait!” Huaisang also stands up, but in front of him. “First, call work and sort that out. Then, you need to make up for what you put Lan Zhan through, not just yesterday, but I bet he's still worried about you.”
“Should I call him? I want to call him.”
“You need to calm down first. And by the way, guess what day it is?”
“No clue. Just tell me.”
“Valentine's Day, dummy. It's perfect for a grand gesture, if you want to take that route. Not that I'm saying you sh–”
Wei Ying tackles him to the ground in another manhandling hug. “You're a fucking genius, that's what you are!”
***************
Wei Ying doesn't always listen to people but in this, he knows Huaisang is right. He has to apologise to Lan Zhan first. On his way to the shopping outlet, he opens the chat with Lan Zhan inside the back seat of the taxi.
Thirty missed calls.
Twelve messages:
Wei Ying.
Please.
Let's talk.
Please, Wei Ying.
You have nothing to worry about.
Wei Ying, where are you?
You don't have to say anything, just let me know you're okay.
Jiang Cheng doesn't know where you are.
Wei Ying.
Please call me.
I can ignore what you said if you want me to.
I'm sorry.
It's the last one that makes a tear fall out of his eye.
You are NOT allowed to cry, Wei WuXian! He tells himself harshly. You made Lan Zhan sad. You made him apologize for something that wasn't his fault.
“Lan Zhan,” he starts typing out, and then realises that he can't do this by phone, by texting. It's not enough.
His phone vibrates and rings suddenly, scaring him. It's Lan Zhan!
Was Lan Zhan looking at his phone right then? Is that why he's calling?
Wei Ying picks up on the second ring.
“Lan Zhan, I'm sorry!” He says, stumbling out of the cab, because they've arrived.
“Wei Ying, are you alright?” Lan Zhan still sounds panicked.
“Yes, I'm fine. I–Look, I did a shitty thing to you yesterday by ghosting you. I'm really sorry. Are you at work?”
“Wei Ying, it is understandable. I am not upset with you. Just worried. And no, I'm not at work.”
Has he always said Wei Ying's name like that? Wei Ying shivers and it has less to do with being outside in the cold than because Lan Zhan with his lovely deep voice is talking to him.
“I missed you,” He blurts out.
“I am always missing you,” Lan Zhan replies.
There's an intensity behind his words that has Wei Ying wondering how he ever could have missed it. Lan Zhan loves with his whole being, with every aspect of himself. No holds barred, no skimping. But the little homeless street kid inside Wei Ying wants more. He wants it said to him clearly. And not over the phone.
“I need to see you. It's really important. I pulled a sickie.”
“So did I. Come over.”
“Okay. I need a bit more time but I'll be as fast as possible.”
“Mn.”
Wei Ying stares at his phone affectionately. Gods, he's got it bad. He can imagine what his face is doing now. That one word is small but powerful enough to bring him to his knees.
They end the call and Wei Ying looks around, disoriented. The ride here is a bit of a blur but he knows what he needs to do.
**************
One hour later, Wei Ying is struggling. He's outside Lan Zhan's apartment building, feet caught in the strings of the many, many balloons he couldn't pick from, arms laden with plush bunnies, and bags full of chocolate and Valentine's Day themed sweets.
A hand on his shoulder, warm and big, tells him that Lan Zhan is here.
Both the cab driver and Wei Ying look at him full of gratitude when he intervenes.
Lan Zhan pays the driver and says to Wei Ying, “Wait.” Firm and deep.
Wei Ying stops trying to cause himself an injury and just watches with his jaw on the floor while Lan Zhan slides his hands under Wei Ying's back and knees and effortlessly picks him up, out of the cab. He kicks the door shut after making sure nothing gets caught in it and then, without looking at Wei Ying, marches resolutely into his building.
That's a lot…even for We Ying.
He has to force himself to close his mouth as Lan Zhan ignores every single person they meet. That's hard to do because it's bloody obvious why Wei Ying is there and being carried up to Lan Zhan's apartment like a princess, which for the record, he does NOT mind. You learn something new everyday, Wei Ying muses, wondering why Lan Zhan has not a) looked at him or b) spoken more than that one word.
Meanwhile, Wei Ying is a teeny tiny bit embarrassed about this. His arms and lap and everything in between is full of garish red, hot pink and baby pink hearts, complete with glitter and shine. He also smells chocolatey.
His brain shows him again the scene out of the cab and he has to admit, Lan Zhan is Really Hot. Who else could make it look like nothing, carrying a whole person with all this paraphernalia, so easily extracting him out of the vehicle and turning the clown act into popcorn worthy entertainment? He doubts that Lan Zhan is even sweating underneath his clothes. From where Wei Ying is pressed up against his solidly hard chest, he can see that Lan Zhan looks like he always does. Unaffected and icy cool…except! Wei Ying wants to gloat with what he's seeing. Lan Zhan's rigid ‘cut-like-a-diamond’ chiselled jaw is clenched.
Oh.
He's holding back.
Tremors of excitement start buzzing under Wei Ying's skin and his mouth gets suddenly dry. Out of the blue, he tells the little gremlin inside him to back off, that he has pushed Lan Zhan to the brink already, and so, there is no need to lean up and kiss his jaw. Or his lovely cheeks that look so soft. His eyes drift lower and he imagines what Lan Zhan's mouth would taste like.
Lost in his wandering thoughts, Wei Ying misses the walk (which is fast, even for Lan Zhan's impossible standards, and only because he needs his keys does Lan Zhan put him down.).
So of course, Wei Ying's knees choose that moment to buckle under him, and once again, Lan Zhan's firm arm around his waist is the only thing holding him up. They get through the doorway rather awkwardly and now, Lan Zhan lets go of him, when Wei Ying is by the sofa. A soft landing should he need one.
Lan Zhan carries on walking to his kitchen.
Wei Ying is definitely out of his depth. What is he supposed to say? Should he get on his knees? No…he's not proposing, though that's not a bad idea, now that he's thought of it. A glass appears under his nose, full of water.
“Drink,” Lan Zhan tells him.
Well, would you look at that? Numero two for learning things. Wei Ying likes being told what to do. He didn't know that. Lan Zhan takes the glass back to the kitchen. Wei Ying silently watches him, clutching his balloons and the presents and the chocolate, and he wonders if he might have jumped the gun. When Lan Zhan returns to stand in front of him, Wei Ying thinks about what he wants to say.
“Why did you run away?” Lan Zhan asks him, stepping closer.
Oh…Lan Zhan’s not playing. They're getting right to it.
“When I said it,” Wei Ying licks his lips, watching Lan Zhan’s beautiful eyes track the action. “Um, so I meant it. But I was scared.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes are no less intense but they've softened immediately. “Why?”
“Here, hold these!” Wei Ying pushes everything he's holding into Lan Zhan’s hands and stretches his cramped fingers out, pacing as he talks. There's no way he can look at Lan Zhan and not cringe at what he's about to admit, and he's still a bit unsure about what his reaction will be, okay? This is normal, he tells himself. Normally though, it would be Lan Zhan giving him a pep talk, but for obvious reasons, Wei Ying has to do it himself.
“So,” he swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. Huaisang was right, it was good to reorganise his thoughts earlier. “When we met, you didn't really want to be friends. But then you started changing and as soon as you accepted it, and we started hanging out, I kinda lost my nerve because I didn't want to be friends anymore–wait, that's coming out wrong. I wanted to be more than friends too, but I was scared if the situation meant I could only have one or the other. The general vibes in our circles still have the opinion that friends are one thing and boyfriends are another. But in my head, I need both, or at least that's the way I see us. That I love you, and that's because we became friends first. I don't believe the two are mutually exclusive.”
There's a noise behind him and Wei Ying refuses to look, hoping Lan Zhan can keep up with his rambling. And then, in a much, much higher pitch, Lan Zhan says, “So you bought out a gift shop instead?”
Wei Ying giggles before he can stop himself, head whipping around to see. Yep, Lan Zhan is sucking on a balloon and the helium is doing that to him. Wei Ying hops closer and holds his hand out for another balloon but Lan Zhan gives him the one he's just used. It's an indirect kiss.
Wei Ying quickly sucks in the air and says, “Lan Zhan, I love you!”
Lan Zhan laughs and copies him, everything they're saying coming out like an album playing on a record player at the wrong speed. Think Alvin and the chipmunks.
“Wei Ying, I love you too.”
“Lan Zhan, let's kith!”
“Mn!”
Lan Zhan flings the sorry excuse of a limp balloon skin to one side and pulls Wei Ying closer. His long fingers dig into Wei Ying’s hips and he hopes there are marks. Wow, lesson number three, huh?
Wei Ying’s hands come up to cradle Lan Zhan’s face.
“Wei Ying, we are proof that you can have both. Will you be my best friend and my boyfriend?”
Wei Ying nods, enchanted. “Lan Zhan, I adore you. I everything you. I am yours as much as you are mine.” He's not sure who closes the distance between them but Wei Ying is in heaven!
Lan Zhan’s lips are warm and sweet, unlike anything he's ever tasted. Powerful but gentle at the same time, with this kiss it's as if he's saying the same words back to Wei Ying like this. They kiss for a long time, neither wanting to pull away, and every time Wei Ying needs to breathe, Lan Zhan begins kissing his way down Wei Ying’s neck. Lesson number four, Wei Ying loves it when he's bitten there.
“Ten out of ten,” he gasps, “all across the board.”
“Wei Ying too,” Lan Zhan agrees, lifting him into his arms. “Bedroom. Now.”
“That's probably lesson number five, six and seven!” Wei Ying says happily, kicking his feet.
“Explain.”
“Love to!” Wei Ying replies, closing the door behind them.
And they lived happily ever after…
THE END