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Lan Zhan had just started on his homework when the knock came at the door. He frowned to himself. His brother was still at work—this was his evening for late lessons—and even if he’d locked himself out, he would text first. He checked his phone, but there were no messages.
Perhaps someone was lost, or needed help. Usually they went to the center, but sometimes after hours scared teenagers would appear at their door, hoping Zewu-jun would be able to help them.
He put his phone down and went to the door. The rain that had been threatening all afternoon had started after he got home, and now it was pouring. The cold hit him as he opened the door.
Wei Ying was standing on his doorstep, wearing a jacket that looked too thin for the weather over his school uniform.
Wei Ying knew where he lived?
“Hi,” he said. “Um. I’m sorry? I just—um. I just—can I just come in for a minute? I just...um. Been kind of a weird day.”
Lan Zhan stepped back, wordlessly, and let Wei Ying in. He’d had fantasies like this before, Wei Ying inviting himself into Lan Zhan’s house, into his bed, but Wei Ying’s eyes were red with tears, and he was carrying a garbage bag so full it was threatening to burst along with his school backpack. “What’s wrong?”
“Ah,” he said. “Ah—well, that’s...that’s a good question? I kind of got...kicked out?”
“Wei Ying…” He had been vaguely aware that the Jiang house was a difficult one, but some of the most unpleasant rumors were about Jiang Fengmian favoring Wei Ying over his own son. It was hard to believe that anyone would kick a child they’d taken in out into the street, much less someone like Wei Ying. Wei Ying was a free spirit, fond of pranks, and he could be infuriating, but...
Who would do this to anyone, much less Wei Ying? He'd asked himself that many times since his brother had started working at the shelter. He never found answers.
Lan Zhan forced himself to focus on the essentials. “Are you hurt? Are you hungry?”
“Aaaah, Lan Zhan, you’re too good.” He shook his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine! They’ll probably have realized that they overreacted in the morning, it’ll be all right. I just....”
“You are safe here,” he said, because that felt like the most important thing he could say, the most urgent thing Wei Ying needed to know. “I am glad you’re here.”
Wei Ying looked a little embarrassed. “I...I remembered that your brother said once, that...that he’d take people in, sometimes, when things were bad. And I thought maybe, just for tonight...maybe you guys wouldn’t mind.” He shook his head. “It’s silly! I just...if I stay with anyone from school, they’ll know, and you know how it is, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Lan Zhan couldn’t imagine anyone worth caring about having an opinion on such things, but he also knew how ridiculous high school rumors could get. “Where is Jiang Cheng?”
“He was still at practice,” Wei Ying said. His face shadowed. “I—I don’t know what they’ll tell him.”
“You may use our guestroom for as long as you need.”
“Aiyah, you don’t even know—”
“You remember what my brother said,” Lan Zhan said, firmly. “You do not have to say anything more.” There were too many emotions warring in Lan Zhan; Wei Ying liked men, enough for his foster family to kick him out, and he’d remembered that Lan Huan had offered the shelter, and in a pinch his home, as a haven for any queer young people with nowhere to go. Wei Ying thought of them as safe.
“Yeah, but—they didn’t...I’m not gay,” Wei Ying said, and Lan Zhan’s heart skidded to a stop. “It’s…I don’t really know what they were upset over. They wanted me to—” He shook his head. “Lan Zhan, can I stay here even if—”
“You can stay here as long as you need,” Lan Zhan repeated, and it was only then he realized that Wei Ying was shaking. “For any reason. Wei Ying—”
“Oh, Lan Zhan,” he said, and Lan Zhan wasn’t sure which of them stepped closer first, but Wei Ying was cold and shaking in his arms, and all Lan Zhan could think was let me be safe for you. Let me take care of you.
He stroked Wei Ying’s hair, trying to be comforting.
“Thank you,” Wei Ying said, into his shoulder. “Fuck, I’m sorry—”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said.
Wei Ying held on to him, trying to breathe, trying not to cry, and Lan Zhan hated himself a little for how much he’d wanted this, how right Wei Ying felt in his arms, even in such horrible circumstances, even with I’m not gay sitting in the back of his mind. “I should—I need to text Jiang Cheng. Just let him know I’m okay for the night.” He stepped back, and Lan Zhan stopped himself from reaching for him. He went into the downstairs bathroom and grabbed the nearest towel instead.
Wei Ying was staring at his phone when he came back, his eyebrows raised. “Oh,” he said. “Oh. Huh.”
Lan Zhan had seen it enough times, with people his brother had helped, to know exactly what had happened; the Jiangs had cut off his phone. “You are welcome to use the wi-fi,” he said. “Let me get you the password.”
“Thanks,” he said. He stared at the phone, clearly fighting his disbelief.
“Wei Ying,” he said, and wondered how he could possibly say everything he wanted to, how he could possibly express to Wei Ying how much he cared without it being too much, too soon. He settled for putting the towel over his shoulders. “You are welcome here. I promise you. Warm up and dry off, first. Then you need to eat something. By then Xiongzhang might be home, and he can help you think about what you might want to do next. All right?” He could transfer to their school; he was certainly a capable enough music student. He’d be safe. Lan Zhan would keep him safe.
Wei Ying looked back at him, and Lan Zhan wondered how he’d be able to last another hour without taking Wei Ying into his arms and kissing him senseless. “Thank you,” he said, his pretty eyes wide with gratitude. “Really. I...thank you so much, Lan Zhan.”
“There is nothing to thank us for,” he said. “I am glad that...I am glad that you trusted us.”
Wei Ying all but jumped back into his arms, and Lan Zhan closed his eyes and held him as tightly as he dared.