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There's laughter at the table. The clink of glasses. Around them, bright, colourful lights cut through the dark in brief intervals, illuminating faces and bodies. Red. A look of shock. Blue. Lan Wangji can't hear the music anymore. His mouth forms the words but he doesn't know if he's spoken out loud. Pink. Lan Xichen looks to where Lan Wangji is staring and swears low under his breath. Orange. Then the light is strobing white and Lan Wangji is moving in slow motion, eyes still fixed on one face in a sea of faces. Behind him, Lan Xichen is saying something into his boyfriend's ear, his eyes tracking Lan Wangji through the crowd. Meng Yao nods and starts doing something on his phone.
Thirteen months. It's been more than a year without a word but Lan Wangji doesn't care. He's never cared about the waiting. If it's Wei Ying, he thinks he could wait lifetimes. Wei Ying isn't moving, he's stock still, staring. Every blurt of white light shows him in the same place, eyes on Lan Wangji as he gets closer. He's thinner than he was a year ago, but he's still beautiful, the most beautiful person Lan Wangji has ever met. His fishnet shirt is loose over a cropped red tank, and black cargo pants are secured at his hips with a heavy studded belt. His hair is in a high ponytail, and as he gets closer Lan Wangji can see little braids here and there. His black eye makeup causes the silvery grey of his eyes to glow.
Ten years ago Lan Wangji would have started a fight with him about the missing year. Hell, last year he would have at least confronted him. There are lots of therapy words in his head right now, things like "enmeshment" and "relationship expectations", none of which have any bearing on the reality of Wei Ying right here, right now, close enough to touch. In order to have a conversation about any of those things, he'd need Wei Ying to stay in one place for more than five minutes. That he's been standing still for more than five seconds is already a miracle. A therapist had asked him, more than once, what he would say to Wei Ying "if he was here right now." (Lan Wangji hadn't kept that therapist for long. They had been his brother's recommendation, but the question was finally proving useful at least.)
In front of Wei Ying, who has still not moved, he knows exactly what he needs to say. He's had months to practice, to find the words, to hone it to one, clear statement. I miss you. Stay. It's the only thing he's ever wanted, the only thing that really matters. Where he's been, everything that came before, it is all eclipsed by this, his chance to tell the love of his life how he really feels.
When he opens his mouth, all that comes out is Wei Ying's name. Standing directly opposite him, all Wei Ying says is, "Hi."
He has never given less of a fuck about what's going on around him than he does right now, which is a little impressive considering how little he generally cares in the first place. His family has accused him of being in "his own world" with Wei Ying, and it's true. Even now, with nothing to connect them after time pulled them apart, it feels like just the two of them. It takes him a minute to realize that they are standing in a literal spotlight, and the music has faded to a dull pulse beneath their feet. Over the speakers, someone is shouting an excited announcement.
"-ei Wuxian, home from Ibiza after his DJ Awards win! Should we ask him to spin for us?"
Lan Wangji feels his heart sink. The crowd has followed the spotlight and is dragging at Wei Ying, pushing and pulling him towards the front of the room. This has always been the problem: Wei Ying is not his. Even if they had found a way to be more than whatever they'd been last year, before Wei Ying got the opportunity to tour abroad and disappeared from his life entirely, it wouldn't have been enough. Then, they'd been a mess of unspoken feelings, arguments bubbling out of Lan Wangji's hopeless longing. Wei Ying wasn't his, wasn't anyone's, was only ever able to give part of himself to anything that wasn't his career. It hadn't been enough. Stops between cities and exhausted moments when Wei Ying would crawl into bed just in time for Lan Wangji to wake up and go to work, and they were still just friends, best friends. It had been difficult to bear when what he wanted was everything, Wei Ying's heart and soul and attention, his late nights and hungover showers, his silly dances in the kitchen and every single smile for the rest of their lives.
He had told Wei Ying to focus on the opportunity he'd been given, not to worry about keeping in touch. It had been too hard to have only some of him, and despite his insatiable, greedy heart, Lan Wangji has always known that Wei Ying would not be himself if he were pinned in place. That's why Wei Ying had listened, right? Had flown around the world without calling or texting, without needing to be tied down by Lan Wangji. It's what he's told himself this past year: it was better this way for them both. So what if seeing him in the crowd is like pressing on a bruise, the ache deep and sweet. Nothing has actually changed. Yes, that includes his feelings, but it also includes their circumstances. Maybe it's good to have this reminder, before he could say something foolish. Green light washes over the crowd. Lan Wangji doesn't move.
Wei Ying is behind the booth now, headphones mussing up his ponytail - this is his job, how can he look so out of his depth? A traitorous voice in the back of his mind: Is that expression because of him? No, that's the greed talking again. Wei Ying is just fussing at the deck and making nonsense noises with it, trying to understand someone else's setup. Lan Wangji wishes he had the power to stop looking at him and walk back to his seat. It would be nice to have even a little self respect where Wei Ying was concerned. But he stands there and watches him fiddle until he's satisfied, helpless and enthralled before Wei Ying even picks up the mic.
"Okay, uhh, hi! Are we ready?"
His voice is as bright as it ever was. The crowd screams. Lan Wangji closes his eyes.
"Cool, cool. So... I've never mixed this in public. You won't like it. But it's not for you, it's for Lan Zhan."
Lan Wangji's eyes snap open. The light is yellow-gold. Wei Ying is looking at him, all crooked grin and starshine eyes, and presses play.
He should probably have questions when the music starts. "How were these queued up already?", or "Why is Nie Huaisang back there?", or "Who knew you were here, or me, for that matter?" But he's busy thinking other things, because he's been transported back ten years to a late, muggy evening on the roof of Wei Ying's high school apartment.
The twilight blue of the sky is streaked with unreal oranges and pinks, and the sun's proximal heat makes the burnt dust smell of hot concrete a base note to the city's perfume of rush hour exhaust and balcony barbecues. They're both sweating through their undershirts but there's only room for Wei Ying's gear in the shadows of the water tower; it's more delicate than either of them so it takes priority. A little sunstroke won't kill two hardy teens, or so Wei Ying crowed when he drew a cartoonish line of mineral sunscreen across his own cheeks and nose. Lan Wangji is already aware that attempting to get him to put his sunscreen on properly will cause Wei Ying to peel off his uniform shirt and draw little zinc UFOs across his chest and stomach.
Lan Wangji tries to avoid being confronted with Wei Ying's bare skin, sun-bronzed and smattered with freckles that should be traced into constellations by his tongue. The rivalry they'd had when they first met had been easier on his self-control but Lan Wangji has no intention of relinquishing his friendship now that he has it, so he keeps his comments about skincare to himself. He has rules about how to be this close to Wei Ying without doing something foolish, and "avoid temptation" is at the top of the list.
It's nearly dinnertime, and they still have actual homework to do, but Wei Ying wants to show him something before they go inside to work on their history project (the ostensible reason Lan Wangji is allowed to go anywhere but directly home after school).
"Just listen," Wei Ying is urging. Lan Wangji rolls his eyes but does as he's told. He even lays back, letting the rooftop cook him, the heat on his bare arms just this side of bearable. He's startled when he feels Wei Ying whumpf down beside him. He's close enough that Lan Wangji can smell his body spray, something sharp and spicy alongside the tang of his sweat. What the scent does to his insides is not to be thought about too much (see: "avoid temptation").
He makes himself focus on the track, which is somehow both bright and melancholy. The music trips over itself, tumbling in ripples of sweet sound, a forest stream bubbling over bittersweet lyrics. He turns his head to look at Wei Ying, who is biting his lip.
"Do you like it?"
Lan Wangji nods. "It's... hopeful," he says.
Wei Ying's smile could eclipse the sun. He is so close that Lan Wangji can see the spray of freckles across his nose that he only gets in summer, the sweat glittering at his temples. This is not avoiding temptation, but he's not ready to pull back yet. (His uncle might be right about Wei Ying's influence on him.)
"You get it," he cheers. "Jiang Cheng said it sounded like something they'd play in H&M."
Lan Wangji immediately frowns. "Your brother is very critical."
"Critical helps me get better. But this one... I just want to enjoy."
He's quiet a minute, chewing on his lip in a way that reminds Lan Wangji that he really is far too close. His voice is a little hesitant when he speaks again.
"It's a mashup of your favourite and mine, did you notice?"
He hadn't (being so close to Wei Ying makes him forget quite a lot of things, honestly), but now that he does, he feels the tips of his ears go red. Wei Ying doesn't mean anything by it, he reminds himself. He's enthusiastic about music, it has nothing to do with Lan Wangji as a person. He mixes songs for people all the time. All the same, he doesn't know what to say that wouldn't blow his cover as just-a-friend, so he nods and keeps his mouth shut. It's really beautiful, almost music-box sweet. The songs fit together a little strangely, but both are better because of the other. Lan Wangji is entirely focused on the mix and keeping himself still, his back against the burning roof. Wei Ying's smile is almost shy now. He wants to roll to the side and kiss him. He wants to tell him how much he feels about the song. He is not avoiding temptation at all and there are going to be consequences if he doesn't -
A very different song cuts through the moment, bass-heavy and loud. The song (Lan Wangji is already thinking of it as "their" song) ended without either of them noticing, and the new track makes them both jolt. Wei Ying laughs and sits up to turn it off. Lan Wangji wants him back at the same time as he's relieved to have room to breath. He sees the red of sunburn creeping over the back of Wei Ying's neck and rolls to sit up, turning away from the temptation to kiss, to nuzzle. He takes a measured breath, and another. Wei Ying is chattering at top speed.
"Uhh, that's another thing I'm working on! Better for dancing to, y'know? That other one is just a fun little thing, not a big deal. Now I've shown you though, so we should go inside! It's hot out here, yeah?"
Lan Wangji takes one last, deep breath, fortifying himself and his first, most important rule. Inside, where Wei Ying's family are, where there are things they need to get done. The song is stuck in his head, and will be for weeks.
"Mn."
The coloured lights of the club are shining different angles on the memory. Pink. Maybe Wei Ying had meant something by it. Orange. Maybe he means something by it now. Blue. The sunset had made it all feel like a dream, and he'd tucked the moment away, almost forgotten it entirely. Red. Almost.
Lan Wangji is surging through the crowd, being very rude about the width of his shoulders and the strength of his frame as he works his way towards the booth. Wei Ying vaults over the deck and directly into the mass of partiers, who seem to have figured it out a hell of a lot faster than either of them did and are making space for the two of them to collide, arms tight around each other. Lan Wangji doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he bites Wei Ying's shoulder. Wei Ying yelps and grabs his face between his hands.
"You dog! My mouth is here," he says, tilting his face up for the kiss that Lan Wangji should have given him thirteen months ago, and ten years ago, every day they've been together. It's messy and imperfect with emotion. That's all right. It's only their first, Lan Wangji will practice as many times as he needs to. Cheers swell around them and he lifts Wei Ying off his feet, feeling him laugh into the kiss, which is maybe more perfect than he is giving it credit for. All the light around them is moving again, every flash and swirl illuminating their second chance at forever.