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Chapter Text

Wei Ying gives up trying to get back to sleep against the loud, bed shuddering snores, and rolls on his side to pick up his phone. He gets so caught up doom scrolling that his mood is on the floor when Nie Mingjue rolls over and signals his awakening with a loud fart. He follows this with a grunt and a sniff. Wei Ying turns around to whack him on the chest. “Ew,” he says. 

Nie Mingjue responds by grabbing him and pulling him close. He’s warm and doused in some sort of intoxicating sleep chemical which makes Wei Ying give in and snuggle even though he’s not really feeling it this morning. He avoids mingling their morning breath by ducking away from a kiss. “I’ve only got time for a hand job,” he tells him. “I need to get to the bookshop early.” 

Nie Mingjue sighs, and folds his arms behind his head as Wei Ying pushes the duvet down to take him in hand. It takes long enough that Wei Ying catches himself mentally rehearsing a full shopping list for the supermarket after work. He shuffles down the bed, pushes the duvet off and straddles his boyfriend’s gratifyingly meaty thighs to take him in his mouth. It’s effective. Nie Mingjue arches back and groans and Wei Ying swallows him down shortly afterwards. Mingjue sits up and squeezes his arse affectionately as he wipes his mouth. 

Wei Ying swings his leg over to get off the bed. 

“Nothing for you, babe?” Mingjue asks, as Wei Ying heads to the shower. 

“I’m good,” he tells him, wiggling his butt at the door just for the show of it, “I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.” 

“You and those fucking books, man,” Mingjue tells him. 

“It’s art ,” Wei Ying tells him.

“It’s porn is what it is,” Nie Mingjue grumbles. 

“It’s not porn if there’s no pictures.” 

It’s a well worn argument and Wei Ying closes the bathroom door quickly so he doesn’t have to listen to the comeback. His hurry doesn’t stop him having a rough and efficient wank as the hot water pours down his back. 

Wei Ying has to suppress a familiar nausea as he watches Mingjue down his green-browny protein shake in the kitchen. His disgust must show in his face.

“Better than that shite,” Mingjue points at Wei Ying’s choccypops. “You’re almost thirty babe, you need to start watching what you eat.”

Wei Ying shuffles himself up to sit taller, has to prevent himself squeezing his belly to check for any signs of a spare tyre. “Fuck off,” he says, prim. “You love it.”

He’s late for his planned early arrival, but the queue is not too bad, and most of it is in the shop. He distracts himself by looking at the displays, and fantasising about what books he would buy if he had the time or money to read them. The rare time he has he spends solely on his Cordelia Delaneuve novels. He feels a shiver of excitement at the fact he’s about to meet his queen. 

The guy in front of him is an arsehole. He’s tall and clearly beautiful from the rare glimpses he gets of his profile when he turns halfway to side-eye Wei Ying in irritation. He’s wearing an absolutely gorgeous coat with a sassy swing on it and huge sleeves, and the most expensive looking baggy jeans Wei Ying has ever seen, which is just so fucking full of bullshit in a bookshop he can’t even. And it’s not very on brand for a Delaneuve fan, who tend to lean towards the grubbier, - smellier - end of society. AND, although Wei Ying is the first to admit he doesn’t have a great deal of personal space, this is a fucking queue , and whenever Wei Ying gets within vague spitting distance of the guy he fucking turn-glimpses his disapproval and shifts away performatively. Plus, plus , he’s leaving such a massive gap between him and the lady in front anyone could cut in and Wei Ying could swear everyone will get to the front faster if they just all keep pressing forwards like normal people. 

Hmm, maybe Wei Ying should cut back on the sugary cereals. 

His attention is taken up with a display ahead of them that has leftover signed copies of older books that Wei Ying has almost certainly not had a chance to buy before. He scans carefully as he gets closer. 

What he really wants is Barbarian in Chains because it’s his favourite and it’s a bit more niche. As soon as he spots a copy, the last one by the looks of things, he reaches out to grab it. He doesn’t immediately notice that Queue Arsehole has made the same decision simultaneously. As their hands clash, an electric jolt shudders up Wei Ying’s arm. 

Queue Arsehole pulls his hand away as if in shock, and Wei Ying takes full advantage, snatching the book and holding it up to his chest possessively. 

Queue Arsehole turns to stare at him. His face is blank, impassive, and yet he still manages to look like he’s sucking a lemon. Wei Ying notices he’s wearing a long, looping pearl necklace, which, for fuck’s sake . 

“I suppose you think that’s yours now?” he says.

Wei Ying has to fight to keep his mouth from falling open. He nods slowly. He can’t seem to look away from this guy’s exacting gaze. 

“Why?” He says. 

Wei Ying can’t seem to unfreeze. “I - wa - ntit -.” He clears his head and shakes his head. “I want - it,” he says, he thinks more clearly this time, only now it’s out there it sounds stupid.

“I see,” Queue Arsehole says, voice icy. 

Wei Ying tries to turn the corners of his mouth up in an appealing smile, but he’s frightened it comes across as insincere and worse, - unattractive -, since he’s in the middle of a suspended grimace. 

Queue Arsehole turns away, slowly, in judgment of all of Wei Ying’s life choices.

“YOU,” Wei Ying says, louder than he meant to, and pearl necklace snaps his head back around. “Want it?” Wei Ying proffers his prize. It feels as if he’s been possessed. “Do you want it?” 

Queue Arsehole licks his lips, still frowning. “Yes,” he says, “thank you.” 

Wei Ying passes him the book wordlessly and then ruminates on his decision making all the way to the front of the line, in a sort of a fuzzy headed dissociative state. He can’t work out how he made him do that. He’s angry, but he’s impressed. 

Of course all the stress disappears when he gets his moment with Cordelia, and he forgets the unpleasantness. He floats on a cloud of joy all the way through, snapping selfies with her on his phone and passing her his beloved copy of her new book, now sweaty from where he’s been gripping it tightly. 

His phone isn’t where he remembered putting it down as he turns to leave, but he finds it on the other end of the table and breathes a sigh of relief. He simply doesn’t have the executive function to organise all the things he’d need to do if he lost it, and Mingjue has increasingly little patience with his dizzy headedness, which feels fair enough really. 

---

Wei Ying gets to work quicker than he thought he would but everything’s still locked up, which is weird because Nie Huaisang would normally have messaged him first thing if he wasn’t going to open up. 

He pulls out his phone at lunch to call Huaisang when he still hasn’t arrived, to discover about a million notifications. On first glance they all look bizarre, emails from all sorts, including a pilates studio, and multiple insta messages and likes. He can’t think if he’s even posted anything in the last month. Even for the brewery. He tries to open the phone but neither his thumb print or code is working. 

Then he takes a closer glance at the lock screen photo. Hang on. He doesn’t have a lock screen photo. Wei Ying does a double take. It’s the guy … from this morning? With another guy who looks… almost exactly the same as him? It’s disturbing and he has no idea what the fuck is going on. He looks around him. Is someone playing a weird prank? 

He’s still frozen in confusion, cogs only just starting to turn when the door bangs. 

“Hard at work, I see,” Nie Huaisang says. 

Wei Ying presses his hand around the base of his neck, trying to calm himself. “Fuck off,” he tells him, a little breathless. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

“Mmmf,” Huaisang says, waving his hand. “I was elbow deep in a - shall we say - project - until the small hours.” 

“Oh, god,” Wei Ying swallows, then remembers why he’s pissed off. “Where the fuck have you been this morning?”

Huaisang pushes his sunglasses on top of his head, squinting delicately. “I told you - I was meeting with a potential new caustics supplier -,” 

“Aaaaah,” Wei Ying says. Ah yes. And he would have known this - if his phone was - actually his phone. “Huaisang?” He says, a little nervous. 

“Hmmm?” He says, already at the computer. 

“Why do I have this guy’s phone and where is my phone?”

Huaisang turns to look at him, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows, “if I had a pound for every time I asked that question,” he says.

Wei Ying pushes the phone towards him. “Why are there so many pilates notifications? This guy was such an arsehole in the queue and why the fuck do I have his phone? Does he have my phone?” 

Huaisang rolls his eyes. “Darling we’ve talked about giving context before, haven’t we -.” He takes the phone from him. “Oh. Jesus,” he says, pressing a palm to his chest and then doing the sign of the cross.

“Huaisang, you’re not cath -,” Wei Ying starts. 

“Baby this is Lan . Fucking . Wangji . Why do you have Lan Wangji’s phone ?”

Wei Ying attempts a shrug. “He was - just this - arsehole?” He tries. 

“Oh my god, you’re such a naif.” Huaisang types quickly into the browser on the desktop. “Look -,” he says, jabbing his finger towards the monitor. 

Wei Ying looks at the search page. Ah. Maybe this makes sense of the pearls at this point. “Queue Arsehole is an - he’s an - actor -,” Wei Ying says, slowly, “- and a model . Hmmm.” He looks at Huaisang. Then back at the screen. Then back at Huaisang. “Sure,” he says. “Sure, sure.” 

Huaisang frowns at him.

“I mean - OK,” Wei Ying tells him. 

Huaisang winces.

“How am I going to get my phone back?” Wei Ying asks him. 

They spend the next twenty minutes hardcore stalking Lan Wangji online to see if they can find a way to contact him. 

“We should never talk about it again, but it’s not the first time I’ve done this,” Huaisang says, darkly. 

Wei Ying decides they should definitely never talk about it again, but it doesn’t get them very far. 

It’s hard facing up to Lan Wangji online. He’s -, well -, beautiful. There’s no other way to describe it. Clothes look like they were made only for him. The way he moves is a song. He has a rod stuck up his arse but he’s so graceful with it. Wei Ying is supposed to be looking for his contact but he keeps finding himself stuck watching reels of him as he comes out of fancy restaurants or goes into fancy parties. There’s a lot of video footage of him with one particular woman - an actress maybe. There’s paparazzi shots of them together, and an article about how he was caught coming out of her house early one morning, in which he still manages to look flawless. He feels a pang of irritation about it. 

“This is hopeless,” Nie Huaisang announces, making Wei Ying jump in his seat, oddly guilty, like he’s been caught out. Which is - ridiculous. 

“Hmm,” Wei Ying says, before they’re both interrupted by the phone buzzing in front of them.

Wei Ying stares at it.

“Well,” Nie Huaisang says, flapping his hand at it - “do  - something - about that,” he squeaks. “Make it stop.”

Wei Ying watches it until it rings off.

“Oh thank god,” Huaisang says, putting his hand to his chest, and breathing deeply.

When it starts up again, insistent, Wei Ying snatches it up impulsively, picking up the call.

“Hello?” He says. “This is not my phone,” he adds, stupidly.

“Mn,” a deep voice replies. “I’m fully aware of that.”

Wei Ying slaps his hand over the bottom of the phone and mouths at Huiasang. “Fuuuuuuck, it’s Lan Wangji,” he hisses.

“What?” Lan Wangji asks. 

“Nn - nothing -,” Wei Ying says, wondering why he sounds like a vaguely animated vegetable. “It’s - phone. My - sorry - your - phone.” 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji replies. He doesn’t sound very encouraging.

Wei Ying swallows. “How did you get my number?” He asks.

Lan Wangji smacks his lips. Wei Ying can sort of imagine it from his end of the phone having seen a fair bit of footage at this juncture. “It’s my number,” Lan Wangji says.

“Uh -,” Wei Ying says, looking angrily at Nie Huaisang - why hadn’t he thought of that. Then he thinks again. “How do you know your number?” He asks.

There’s a pause. “I thought it could be valuable,” Lan Wangji says, drily, “for circumstances such as this one.” 

“Oh,” Wei Ying laughs but unfortunately his voice goes up really high and it makes him cough. He thinks he might have sounded like a rapidly drowning rat. 

“Even if I had not remembered my number,” Lan Wangji goes on and Wei Ying really wishes he would stop at this point, “I could ask an acquaintance to ring it on my behalf.” 

Jesus this guy has serious snootery issues, “well all right,” Wei Ying says. “As it happens I thought precisely the same thing.” He stands up straighter, and turns away from Huaisang as his eyes widen, “and I was about to call you - er - me,” he corrects, quickly. 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says.

“Well. Do you want to do a phone swap? I can’t stand around here talking about it all day, I’m a busy man.” Wei Ying ignores Huaisang’s scoff behind him. 

Wei Ying can hear a clicking noise, like maybe Lan Wangji is drumming his fingers on a table top. “Cafe 67,” he says. Eleven o’clock on Saturday.”

It’s absolutely outrageous that he’s said it like that, just assuming Wei Ying is free because he’s not as important or busy as Lan Wangji is, “I’m not free,” he says.

Lan Wangji sighs, hard and long, right into his ear. He pauses. “Half past eleven?” He says.

“Fine,” Wei Ying snaps, because he can’t be arsed with all this.

“I’ll probably send my - uh - friend to pick it up, if that’s OK,” Lan Wangji says.

Inexplicably, Wei Ying feels a pain in his chest - like he’s - hurt? Maybe. It doesn’t make any sense. “Fine,” he says. “I must be - getting on,” he tells him.

Nie Huaisang is staring at him when he puts the phone down. 

“What?” Wei Ying says.

Nie Huaisang shrugs.

Wei Ying bites his lip, “might be - best - if you don’t mention this to your brother,” he tells Huaisang, “I feel stupid. He’ll think I’ve been stupid.”

Nie Huaisang looks at him blankly. Wei Ying recognises it for the power play that it is. He does it to make Wei Ying talk more and Wei Ying isn’t going to always, just, give in like that. 

“I just think he’s getting fed up with me. The way I - am,” he says.

Nie Huaisang folds his arms, and keeps looking at him, but Wei Ying’s definitely not going to cave again .

“He told me to be more careful with my phone,” he says.

Nie Huaisang frowns at him. “So. You’re suggesting that my brother - who you’ve been with for, what? Ten years now? Give or take. You’re saying that this would be some sort of final straw for your relationship?” He taps his fingers on his arms. “What’s going on, Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying waves his hands at him, “nothing, nothing. Nothing that dramatic. Honestly, I’m just embarrassed. Forget it, I’ll talk to him about it. OK? Forget it.” He closes the multiple browser windows and tries to focus on his inbox. “You always make such a fuss.” 

“Hmm,” Huaisang says.

At home, Wei Ying tells Nie Mingjue he’s going to be out tomorrow afternoon. 

“I’m at the gym til late anyway babe,” Mingjue says, crowding him to squeeze his arse. Wei Ying leans into his comforting bulk, breathing in his deeply man-like smells. “What you doing?” 

“Nothing,” Wei Ying sighs, into his chest. It hardly matters anyway. It’ll just be some - assistant. 

Mingjue slides his hands under Wei Ying’s butt to hoik him up. Wei Ying wraps his arms around his neck and kisses his ear. “I love you, Wei Ying,” he says. 

Chapter Text

So, OK, it is actually Lan Wangji though, when he gets to the cafe. Wei Ying stands at the entrance, squinting and staring, to make sure. His long hair is artfully messy in a top knot, and he’s wearing a baby pink denim jacket with the sleeves just a little turned up, framing his wrists and long fingers as he plucks a sugar cube to drop in his tea. 

Lucky for Wei Ying, Lan Wangji doesn’t look up while he’s staring gormlessly, and eventually someone shoves him in the back to move out the way. He makes his way over to his table, where Lan Wangji is so still and quiet by the window. As he sits opposite him, he notices his legs feel a little shaky, which is just such bullshit honestly. 

Lan Wangji looks up, kind of slowly, and his expression doesn’t shift but he looks, sort of, lighter? Somehow. 

Wei Ying realises he’s holding his breath. “You’re sweet enough already,” he says, inexplicably. Then he grins. Why. Why? 

Lan Wangji pulls his head back. “What?” He says. 

Wei Ying points his finger at the sugar. 

“Oh,” Lan Wangji says, looking down. Then, and Wei Ying doesn’t even see him move, he lays something on the table between them. 

He imagines it must be his phone, but when he looks he sees it’s the book. The signed copy of Barbarian in Chains . He looks back at Lan Wangji, mouth open, questioning. 

“I’ve finished with it,” Lan Wangji says. 

This immediately pisses Wei Ying off because he’s not, like, some charity case or something. “No you haven’t,” he says. “You can’t be ‘finished’ with it. It’s a signed copy. You don’t finish with signed copies.” 

“I have,” Lan Wangji says. Face still a blank. “I’ve finished with it. I read it. You can have it.” He pushes it towards Wei Ying.

“It’s not like I haven’t read it,” Wei Ying says, feeling belligerent. “It’s yours I gave it to you.” He puts his fingers on the other side of it and pushes it right back towards Lan Wangji. 

Lan Wangji’s expression is firm, determined, and he slides the book back with confidence. Wei Ying can sense a whiff of a will of iron underneath his soft exterior. It’s giving him the weird horn. Even though Mingjue tells him off all the time, he lets him get away with anything and Wei Ying sometimes wishes he’d be stricter. 

Wei Ying shrugs. “Fine,” he says, “have it your way. He pulls the book towards him, places his hand over it. It feels nice under his fingers. 

Lan Wangji turns away and gestures with his hand. One of the waitstaff nods and turns to the coffee machine. Wei Ying has literally never seen that happen before. 

“My phone?” Lan Wangji says and it takes Wei Ying’s brain a moment to catch up. He has a terrible moment where he thinks he might have left it at home, but thank all the fucks he locates it in the last pocket he digs into. 

“Who’s the guy on the lock screen?” He says, as it passes it over. “You twins?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “My brother,” he says. “He’s in Shanghai.”

He looks perfectly normal about the whole thing but Wei Ying feels a twinge of pain in his chest. “Oh no,” he says. 

Lan Wangji tilts his head, frowns.

“I hate my brother at the best of times but I would be devastated if he was far away.” He smiles sympathetically at Lan Wangji, who looks what he can only describe as disturbed. “And my sister, and her kid - even though he’s a bit of a monster honestly,” he says out of the side of his mouth as if it’s a confidence, which it isn’t really. He tells Jin Ling to his face all the time. “Your brother have kids?” He asks. 

Lan Wangji shakes his head, “he’s gay,” he says.

“OK,” Wei Ying scoffs. “Well that doesn’t mean you can’t have kids but whatever.” 

“No - I know - I -,” Lan Wangji starts but they’re interrupted by the waiter bringing Wei Ying a coffee. 

Wei Ying points at it, accusing. “For me?” He asks.

“Just drink it,” Lan Wangji says.

“Oh god,” Wei Ying says. It smells perfect, he takes a sip and as soon as it hits his veins he groans. “Oh, fuck me.” He moans again. “I’m trying to stop - but - I can’t.”

Lan Wangji is looking at him oddly, but at this point Wei Ying doesn’t even give one fuck because caffeine. 

“Why do you want to stop if you love it so much?” Lan Wangji asks him. 

Wei Ying waves his hand, “health - thing,” he says. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t mention Nie Mingjue. He figures it would be weird. He hates people who go on about their partners. He doesn’t know. “What did you think of His fearsome love ?” He asks. 

“Ah,” Lan Wangji says, a light flush settling high on his cheeks, barely detectable, but it is detectable and Wei Ying wants more of it. Lan Wangji looks down. “I’m saving it,” he says to the table. 

Wei Ying supposes perhaps it is a little embarrassing to be discussing romance novels with, amongst many other things, all types of graphic sex with someone you barely know - or, well - anyone really, but he just loves them so much, and it’s so nice to find someone who loves them too. Wei Ying wonders if he reads them with his shallow-looking actress girlfriend. He wishes Nie Mingjue would like them. 

He comes out of his head to notice Lan Wangji is staring at him like he’s waiting for something. “Oh,” he says. “I’m waiting too.” He smiles at Lan Wangji to signal he thinks it’s OK. “I like to have - you know - time around it.” 

He hopes it doesn’t sound dodgy because actually, it isn’t, not particularly - it’s just giving the writing and the feelings space to settle. To his gratification, Lan Wangji sighs and nods, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. As if he knows. 

“Thank you -,” Wei Ying says, gripping his book again in both hands, “for this, really - it means a lot to me.” 

Lan Wangji looks at him. He seems to want to say something, but if so, it doesn’t come out. He swallows. “Well -,” he says. And clears his throat.

Oh crap, Wei Ying not taking the hint as usual. He pushes his chair back, slaps his hands on the table. “I should be going, I mustn’t keep you all day.” He stands up, ungraceful, and the table wobbles, spilling his beautiful coffee.

Lan Wangji stands awkwardly. “Wait,” he says.

Wei Ying’s heart skips, and his stomach swoops. He shouldn’t regret the undrunk coffee, it’s really set his nerves off. He looks at Lan Wangji.

“Your phone -,” he says, holding it out to Wei Ying.

Ah. Of course. He’s such a fucking idiot. He never asked for his phone back. “Well,” he says, “thank you.” He winks at Lan Wangji, even though he immediately regrets it. “See you round,” he says. Even though he clearly won’t. 

He sneaks to the cash register and pays for the drinks before he leaves. At least he can feel smug about that. 

He’s oddly restless when he gets home and fusses around cleaning up and making food until Nie Mingjue gets back from what must have been all sodding day at the gym. Wei Ying has no appetite but he has a desperate hunger to be touched. He makes Mingjue fuck him as soon as he gets in, right there, on the kitchen floor, on his hands and knees, and again in bed after dinner. 

Afterwards, Mingjue lays a large hand on Wei Ying’s sweaty, spunky stomach as it still pulses with his heart beat, and strokes his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what’s got into you tonight babe,” he says. “I wish it got into you more often.” 

Wei Ying cranes up to kiss him. “I wish you got into me more often,” he says. Actually, he wishes they would talk more, when he feels weird, instead of just having sex, but it’s a long battle he’s never been able to win and he’s too tired to bring it up anymore. 

“Love you,” Mingjue says, rolling over and pulling the duvet around him, and Wei Ying is left to clean up on his own. 

Nie Mingjue is snoring softly but steadily, and Wei Ying is still so listless with unspent energy, that he gives up on trying to go to sleep and starts idly scrolling. It isn’t long before he’s fallen down a rabbit hole of speculation about Lan Wangji and the actress, who turns out not to be an actress at all, but a martial arts specialist and stunt woman called Mianmian. There are a lot of tumblr articles about it, and most paint a fairly convincing picture of a barely hidden but publicly unacknowledged relationship that began on a set about three years before, when Lan Wangji was only eighteen. “Jesus,” Wei Ying whispers. He’s so young to have done all of this. She’s very pretty. 

Wei Ying scans Lan Wangji’s film and TV credits, and many look intriguing. It seems he’s currently rehearsing for a play in the west end, which Wei Ying has never heard of. He browses a few of his fashion campaigns and falls asleep on his phone, waking up to find it out of juice. 

---

Wei Ying gets caught up in prep and brew day for the next couple of days, and doesn’t spare Lan Wangji another thought until Huaisang asks him about it as they’re locking up. Wei Ying realises he doesn’t think either of them said their names to each other.  

“It was just his assistant,” Wei Ying tells Huaisang. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t want the questions and he doesn’t want to think about it. 

Wei Ying is a weights-evening widow that night, and as he’s flicking through netflix one of Lan Wangji’s movies just sort of pops up on a search, and so he decides to watch it. It’s not weird to be curious. It must be one of his first serious roles because he looks very young. It’s a gritty film, upsetting, and Wei Ying is an absolute mess by the end of it. He gets through half a toilet roll crying. 

He reaches for his phone so he can look into the film in more detail and finds himself weighing it in his hand, thinking about how it was in Lan Wangji’s possession for a time. Held by him in his large hands, pressed close against his ear. Maybe travelling in his trouser pocket and he shivers, disquieted. He finds himself scrolling through his outgoing calls, thinking Lan Wangji would have deleted evidence of his phone number. But he hasn’t. His number is there, in black and white - what must be his number - from the time he remembers he picked it up at the brewery with Huaisang.

He presses his thumb down on the number and scrolls it up and down before he thinks what the heck , and saves the contact. 

He gets lost for the rest of the night chasing articles about Lan Wangji’s roles. He discovers he had a number of small parts as a teenager, in the usuals - the regular hospital shows, crime shows, a bit part in a soap here and there. From what he can establish, his brother was the same, but while Lan Wangji stayed in acting, Lan Xichen followed his Uncle into film production. The pair of them seem excessively accomplished. He discovers that Lan Xichen is the same age as Nie Mingjue. Wei Ying bites his lip. 

He watches what interview footage he can, but Lan Wangji is mono-syllabic and awkward in almost all of it, and it’s often commented on unkindly by the interviewer. He’s clearly known for being hard working, but a man of few words. Wei Ying can see how this might be inconvenient for someone who’s work depends on promotion, but he’s a little obsessed, a little fascinated. 

The idea of being able to hold yourself back like that, to not fill a space where there is silence. It’s a skill he doesn’t possess. 

There’s one print article he reads over and over with a journalist who has been oddly successful in bringing him out of his shell.

It’s hard for me not to embody the people I portray , Lan Wangji is quoted as saying. It wouldn’t be right to take a role I did not put my all into .

Wei Ying presses his hand to his chest, takes in a breath. Yes, he saw this in the film. He saw it.

When I commit to something, I commit , Lan Wangji tells his print audience. I owe it to the audience and I owe it to myself . 

Wei Ying connects to this so entirely. He throws himself into everything, he just can’t help it. And it’s exactly the way he feels about his brewing. He’d felt that way when he flipped burgers at the weekends at school. He feels like Lan Wangji is talking directly to him and he’s not normally a parasocial nutter. 

If there’s one thing he doesn’t connect to in the article, it’s Lan Wangji’s response to being asked about his love life, specifically with Mianmian.

My private life is my own , Lan Wangji says. And nobody else’s .

Wei Ying doesn’t feel this way at all. If you love someone you should want to tell the world. And he really wants to hear about it. How Lan Wangji loves. 

He wakes up with his face pressed against his phone pressed into the pillow and there’s a pool of dribble just generally… around. Nie Mingjue is hefting himself into bed. Wei Ying presses the flat of his hand into his eye sockets, wipes his phone as best he can and rolls over to plug it in to charge. 

“Love you,” he says to Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue grunts back, drowsily. 

---

Wei Ying forgets about Lan Wangji for the rest of the week because they’re busy at work, and he has to continue into the weekend because Nie Huaisang wants to take a ‘sex mini break’ and they’re short of staff covering the tap bar. 

He finds himself scrolling through his phone in a quiet patch, and without thinking he messages Lan Wangji. i never told you , he writes. my names Wei Ying thx for looking after my phone it misses u . He doesn’t know how young people message these days. 

He’s shocked when he immediately gets a message notification. Lan Zhan is all it says.

Wei Ying wonders if it’s an error at first, but the gorgeous possibility that he is telling Wei Ying his name back fills his soul with simple joy. The fact that he doesn’t know that Wei Ying has obviously stalked him entirely at this point is adorable. Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan. 

He’s got nothing to lose. hi Lan Zhan he types back.

Hi , comes the immediate response. 

Wei Ying stands up straight, slapping his phone down on the counter. A punter sitting on a stool at the bar looks up at him oddly and Wei Ying smiles. 

“Unexpected,” Wei Ying tells him, pointing down at his phone. 

The punter raises his eyebrows but Wei Ying is too distracted to start up a conversation, trying to figure out what in the name of fuck to say back to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan.  

He settles on I’m going to read it tonight . It’s kind of a test - to see Lan Zhan’s commitment to Delaneuve. 

The typing dots appear and Wei Ying is obsessed with them. 

I’m reading it now .

Wei Ying’s mouth goes dry and he’s feeling - things - in his lower belly. Why? Why. He doesn’t know. Don’t fucking ask him. He wipes his forehead. He’s hot. i hope its good , he says, dont tell me if not .

There’s a pause before the message this time. It’s good . Lan Zhan says. 

Wei Ying licks his lips. Oh god. He needs to get back home to read the fucking thing and soon. Like, yesterday. 

Tell me how good he messages. He feels like he’s pushing it now, but he always doubles down. It’s a risky strategy, but the pay off is usually good. And he doesn’t have the inhibition to stop himself. 

No , Lan Zhan messages. 

Wei Ying laughs to himself silently. He can’t believe it’s Lan Wangji down the end of the phone, he just doesn’t seem that easy with his communication. But it is. It must be. He’s thrilled. 

pllleeeeeeeeeeaaaaseeee he types I can’t get home for another four hours i need soooometthiiiing . He’s not trying to be cute, he means it. 

Have some self control , Lan Zhan types.

Wei Ying squeezes his lips together, tight, clutches the phone. Have some self control, he thinks, frozen. Have some self control.  

Fuck it, he thinks. He sticks out his tongue and does a death by hanging face with his hand up to indicate clutching at the rope and snaps a selfie. He checks if it’s cute enough and sends it before he can stop himself. 

slef control nt very me he types, too fast. He’ll get the gist. 

He gets nothing in reply for what must be at least thirty seconds, not even a typing so he slams his phone down on the bar. The punter tilts his head at him. “Oh shhhh,” Wei Ying says, waving his hand at him. 

Fortunately things get madly busy, compounded by the fact that his bar guy calls in sick so he’s on his own. He’s dead on his feet by the end of shift, but his hand still slips into his pocket as soon as he’s locked up. He holds his breath as he pulls his phone out, and his nerves fizz with anticipation at the message notification. Against all the odds it is a message from Lan Zhan. It’s beautiful , it says. It’s beautiful.

He has to stop himself gushing out ‘a beautiful book for a beautiful man’, or something equally stupid on a message. It’s been a long shift and he’s emotional. And the Lan Wangji he’s watched and observed seems like he needs compliments and encouragement. Watching him in that film, and the way he connected to his emotions -. It’s done something weird to Wei Ying. And he can’t believe he’s a real person in his actual phone. He must remember the fact that he IS a real person though. Who would mostly likely be appropriately frightened if he wrote messages like that at him. 

Nie Mingjue is asleep when Wei Ying collapses into bed and blessedly not snoring. Although physically exhausted, Wei Ying’s mind is spinning out with need and he grabs his book with a shiver. He’s almost immediately absorbed.

It’s six in the morning when he finishes, tears streaming down his face, and the light is creeping through the slats in their blinds. 

Wei Ying wipes his eyes and hawks up all the snot. He wiggles down under the duvet and turns onto his side. He widens his eyes and snaps a selfie in the soft half light, thinking it will be the best way to convey how he feels, and he sends it to Lan Zhan. My reaction selfie he writes, carefully, as a caption. I have died .

He’s surprised, given the hour, that he gets a reply immediately. He wipes his nose hard while he watches the dots waving at him as Lan Zhan types. His heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know why. For some reason Lan Zhan’s reaction matters . 

I felt the same he says.

Wei Ying presses his phone to his forehead, breathes in deeply. He’s so relieved.

sedn me a self8 he types back, quickly. 

He gets distracted going over the events of the book again in his head, and he's snuggled under the duvet, when the reply comes half an hour later. 

The photo is in bleached light - the top of an elegant, well kept foot, the bottom of an expensive-looking yoga mat, a blanched window of sunlight with pristine white drapes. A wooden floor. 

Wei Ying spends time zooming in on the different parts of it. Searching for clues. 

I needed time to recover the message says, when it comes. 

thsts cheating! Wei Ying types, outraged. He has to wipe a bit of snot off the phone screen and it sends twice by accident. 

Lan Wangji - Lan Zhan - ignores him, so Wei Ying gets up to make breakfast. He’ll have to head to the brewery to check Mike’s doing OK on his own. He doesn’t make anything for Mingjue. Sunday’s his cheat day this week, and he works so hard Wei Ying wants to give him some proper rest time. 

He’s heading off when his phone buzzes. That the dragon was so kind hurt my heart , it says. That the dragon was so kind hurt my heart . 

Wei Ying squeezes the phone tightly. The thing is, he’s right, he’s so right. 

When Damon broke the seal!!!!!!!!!!!! He writes back, immediately. wtf choice making was that?????????? Idied I DIED , he says. 

They back and forth like this all the way to work and Wei Ying gets a nasty bump on his shin walking into a lamppost. 

He snaps a picture of himself with heart fingers outside of the brewery gt to work now he tells Lan Zhan. 

You work at Magnificent Descendants , Lan Zhan messages. Somewhat enigmatically. 

i mange it for a friend, Wei Ying tells him. He really needs to go in and check on Mike but things are getting interesting. 

A friend goes there sometimes Lan Zhan tells him. A friend of a friend .

Sadly it’s not fascinating stuff. Wei Ying chews on his nails for a moment. Paces a little outside the gate. Nothing is forthcoming. Well , he messages. Got to go bye .

He hopes it might prompt him into something, but it doesn’t. At the end of the day there’s still nothing from him. 

Nie Mingjue’s all chatty when he gets home but Wei Ying’s so tired he just listens and can’t contribute much. He goes to bed early with what feels like an anxiety related headache. He doesn’t know where all these fizzing, acidic, popping nerves are coming from but they’re wreaking havoc on his poor body. 

Chapter Text

Wei Ying has Monday off and he gets up early to practice some yoga with Adrienne in the corner of the kitchen. Because yoga is Good For You. 

It’s fairly hopeless. He gets his leg sort of stuck moving out of warrior pose into pigeon and falls over onto his side like a plank, but not the good kind. Then of course he’s in downward dog, arse towards the door when Nie Mingjue comes down for breakfast so obviously he ends up being mauled and they fool around for the rest of the video. 

Nie Mingjue props himself up on his elbow on his side, and leans over Wei Ying to stop the adverts at the end of the session. Wei Ying stretches himself out on his back, and Nie Mingue tucks his hair behind his ear, strokes his cheek. “You OK, babe?” he says.

Wei Ying presses his lips together and hmmms. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to get at. “Why?” He says. 

Nie Mingjue pauses his stroking and looks at him, oddly scrutinising look in his eye. “You haven’t seemed like yourself this week.” 

Wei Ying takes Mingjue’s fingers in his hand and bounces them against his cheek. “I’m fine,” he tells him. 

Nie Mingjue leans over to kiss him on the lips, pulls his fingers away. “Love you,” he says.

Wei Ying sighs. “If you loved me you’d finger me senseless,” he says. 

Nie Mingjue smiles at him. He gets up and makes his way over to the kitchen bar. “I do not have time for you this morning, I’m afraid,” he says. “But I can offer you a protein smoothie.” 

Wei Ying makes several performatively graphic gagging noises like the grown up that he is. 

“You need to wake up to the power of protein Mr Wei,” Mingjue tells him. “Drop the sugar.” 

“Shut up I’m meditating,” Wei Ying tells him, putting his knees up and closing his eyes.

As the sound of the blender fills his ears he finds he is thinking about the dark duke, the dragon, and Lan Zhan. 

He doesn’t get up until Nie Mingjue is making leaving for work noises. He pulls him close at the door, kisses him, taking a deep breath of his particular scent, then sinks down from where he’s been up on tiptoes. He fingers the lapel of Mingjue’s shirt. “Babe?” He says. 

Mingjue takes his chin and tilts his head up to look at him. “I have to go, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying pushes his hand away. “Will you read my new book?” He says. 

Mingjue lets go of him to pull his coat off the hook. “I’ll think about it, but you know it’s not my thing,” he says. 

Wei Ying watches him walking off down the street towards the station for a little while before he closes the door. 

When he picks up his phone for the first time that morning he finds several messages about His fearsome love from Lan Zhan, that he rabidly has to respond to immediately, because - 100% yes , Delaneuve is developing new themes in her writing about isolation and intimacy and it is an exciting new direction for her. 

They message on and off throughout the day while Wei Ying potters through chores and tries to sort some life admin. His nerves crackle and sparkle like they have been all week. 

Somehow they get onto more mundane life topics amongst the Delaneuve chat.

How did you get into brewing? Lan Zhan asks him. 

couldnt afford degree Wei Ying types, so i learned on the job, gt quals on hte way . His thumb hovers above the screen. He doesn’t mention that he mostly got into it because his partner’s brother needed some trusted help when he took on the business, at the same time that Wei Ying was really drifting. He just can’t be arsed to type it all out. 

He wants Lan Zhan to talk about his work, but it’s gone so long without him mentioning that he knows who he is, that he can’t really do it now. And he’s not called himself Lan Wangji, which seems weird. what do u do he types. It's disingenuous but he can't think of another way, and he's kind of curious to hear how he explains it. 

Lan Zhan goes quiet for a long time after that, and Wei Ying is really worried he’s managed to offend or put him off somehow. He distracts himself with a big pile of Nie Mingjue’s dirty gym clothes he needs to wash, but he keeps having to pause and check his phone, chewing steadily down his fingernails. 

Eventually the answer comes. I’m in a play at the moment , he says. 

Wei Ying is so relieved, and he doesn’t want to make things worse again. He is instinctively sure that what he mustn’t do is bang on about it, ask where the play is, is he famous, what will he have seen him in, that sort of thing. Are u enjoying it? He says. 

It’s more tiring than other things I do , he says, and Wei Ying longs to ask him about the other things, just because he really needs to hear more about the film he watched, but he can wait. But I have Mondays off .

Wei Ying waits, but that seems to be all for now. Lucky for me , he says. And he feels warm with the feeling that it might give Lan Zhan a glow as well. 

Wei Ying doesn’t hear from him for the rest of the day, and it bugs him so much he tries again in the evening, while Nie Mingjue is cooking a protein heavy dinner. 

do u get to shaghai much ?. he messages. Shitting typos. 

No , comes the answer. Sometimes. Have you ever been?

Wei Ying thinks for a while about whether to give an honest answer. i was adopted there , he says. idont remember anything I want to go back soemtime . 

We lived there with my uncle, attended boarding school in the UK , Lan Zhan says. When we started acting we all moved over, temporarily. I stayed . 

It’s such a lot of information and Wei Ying doesn’t know what to do with any of it. 

Are you happy here? He asks. 

Happy enough Lan Zhan replies. 

Yeah , Wei Ying messages, and then it stops, for a while. 

---

They exchange the odd message over the next few days. It feels comfortable, like they are checking in with each other. The whole thing is weird. He doesn’t know if they’re friends or not, or why they’re communicating at all. All he knows is that it’s such a delight to have a friend with a common interest in a passion he’s felt lonely about for years, but given Lan Zhan has a girlfriend to enjoy it with, he’s unsure about his motivations. 

But every time he thinks it will fizzle out, he feels compelled to send a message to start it up again. He feels kind of bad about it actually. Lan Zhan must be so busy and he’s obligating him to attend to him. He’s kind of trapping him into a relationship he most likely does not want or need. 

Then it does fizzle out, until he takes a random shift at the tap bar one afternoon when one of their increasingly flaky bar guys doesn’t turn up. Nie Huaisang can’t cover it because he’s gone to the races, which - genuinely - Wei Ying had no idea he did that. 

It’s not busy, but there’s kind of a weird buzzy vibe to the place today. He doesn’t think much of it, and then he’s face to face with Lan Zhan, standing directly in front of him, the other side of the bar, after he’s stood up from fishing something disgusting out of the sink plug.   

“Oh -, fuck ,” Wei Ying says, slamming his palm to his chest and feeling the slap of - whatever the sink plug slime - is. “Oh - sorry,” he says, gasping for breath and coughing. “Hi - sorry -, hi.” He takes a deep breath in again, trying to recover himself, but it feels hard to capture any oxygen. “Lan Zhan. Jesus.” 

Lan Zhan just smiles back at him, face serene. A smile. And that’s it. That’s when Wei Ying knows. He’s gone. He’s - just - gone. He’s fucking gone. 

“Hi,” Lan Zhan says and Wei Ying has forgotten how deep his voice is. Wei Ying is simply going to have to - deal with - all of this - later. 

He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out reedier than he’d like. He pats his chest with his sink pluggy hand. “What can I get you?” He says, trying to sound casual, and giving him a jaunty wink. “It’s on the house - of course.” 

“Oh, no,” Lan Zhan says. And he looks so awkward and young that Wei Ying wants to lean over the bar and pull him into his arms, press him against his chest. He must look worried because Lan Zhan starts waving his hand, the poor man, “I don’t drink - much,” he says. He looks crestfallen.

“We have soft drinks?” Wei Ying says, gesturing to the fridges behind him. “Uh - can I at least get a beer for a - ummm - your companions?” He looks over Lan Zhan’s shoulder to see whatever party he’s here with, and he has to admit to feeling a little disappointed to recognise someone who looks a lot like the photos of Mianmian staring at her phone angrily on a bench table nearby. 

“I thought I probably wouldn’t see you here,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying is stumped, for a moment, at the non-sequitur. 

“Oh well. I am here,” Wei Ying says. He’s just absolutely losing his shit internally and he doesn’t know why. “Do you - want - a - drink?” He says. He swallows again. His throat feels dry. This isn’t going how he wants. How he’d have liked it to go. The thing is - he just - it’s not something he expected was going to happen. 

“Yes - sorry -,” Lan Zhan says. “I’m sorry.”

Oh fuck. “Nooooooooo,” Wei Ying says. “Please - don’t be sorry. Please.” 

Lan Zhan stares back at him. He appears to be clutching the bar top somewhat tightly.

Wei Ying has to swallow a shocked laugh. Lan Zhan appears to be - nervous? One of the last things Wei Ying would have predicted for today would be Lan Zhan turning up at his tap room, but even less so that he would be - nervous ? 

This might explain a few things. The poor man’s performance in interviews. He must have a weirdly specific sort of social phobia about being out in public. It makes sense, probably. Being famous would make you a hell of a lot more self conscious. Wei Ying desperately grapples for any way he can make him feel better. Probably getting him a drink as fast as possible and making sure that he’s as little noticed as he can be. 

“You sit back down,” he tells him. “I’ll bring drinks over.” He gives him a clandestine wink to indicate that he totally understands. “A half pint of -” Wei Ying gestures questioningly “- for your - friend?” 

“Oh. Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “Beer.” 

“O - K -,” Wei Ying says, “a half pint of - beer - for your friend, and you’ll have -?”

“A - tap - water -,” Lan Zhan says. He actually looks a little bit like he’s going to die.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chides. “It’s on the house -. Let me get you something you like.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “I -,” he starts, quietly, “really - I’d just prefer water.” 

Wei Ying drums his hands on the bar, “water it is then,” he says, in time with his tapping. What the fuck is happening to him? What the fuck has happened to Lan Zhan? 

Lan Wangji turns to look behind him, and then looks back at Wei Ying. “OK,” he says. He turns and walks back to his table. 

Wei Ying crouches by the fridge. Just so he can breathe for a moment. He stuffs his fist into his mouth and screams silently onto it. Then he takes it out and runs both his palms down the sides of his face, squeezing it. It feels like his skin is going to fall off. How is this so awkward? They’ve talked about their guiding passions and values - their family histories by message. How have they not been able to hold a simple conversation? 

“Mate?” Someone says from behind him, “are you OK?”

Wei Ying stands up abruptly, but he’s grateful for the distraction as he takes his order.

As soon as he can, he takes the water and beer - he’s chosen a low percentage IPA, one of his favourites - over to Lan Zhan’s table.

Lan Zhan looks up at him, then winces. “Ouch,” he says, which doesn’t really make any sense. Lan Zhan leans down to rub his shin. “Wei Ying, this is my friend Mianmian,” he says, looking pissed off. 

Wei Ying turns to her. “I hope you like the - beer,” he says. He doesn’t want to care, but he really hopes she thinks it’s fucking great. 

She smiles back so prettily and Wei Ying wants to dislike her, he really does. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Wei Ying frowns at her. “What?” He says. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “You heard,” she says. 

Wei Ying’s ears are buzzing. “Give me a wave if you two need anything,” he says. He looks at each of them in turn, but they both look blank. He walks back to the bar. He has to turn and check on them on the way back, a matter of feet, but they look to be having a perfectly normal conversation as far as he can tell.

“Table service, is it?” His friend at the bar says. 

“Not for you,” Wei Ying says, and wipes around his pint officiously with a damp cloth. 

Time ticks on and things quieten down a little - it’s just a calm before the second rush - and Wei Ying has to work very hard not to repeatedly check on Mianmian and Lan Zhan. He thinks he manages well enough - Lan Zhan has his back to him anyway so it doesn’t really matter - and then suddenly he’s walking towards him again and Mianmian is walking out. 

Lan Zhan stands in front of him with their two empty glasses. 

“You’re going?” Wei Ying says, trying not to sound as disappointed as he feels. 

“I have an - evening performance,” Lan Zhan says. “I brought you - back -,” he looks at the glasses. 

Of course. Of course he has an evening performance. Wei Ying is an idiot. “Thank you so much, that’s very considerate,” Wei Ying tells him, taking each glass in turn. “You’ve saved me a trip.” He smiles at him. He just wants to fix things. He doesn’t want him to go.

Lan Zhan looks down at the bartop. “Well -,” he says. 

It’s then that Wei Ying remembers. “You have Mondays off -.” 

Lan Zhan looks up at him. “Oh,” he says. 

Wei Ying bites his bottom lip. “I have Mondays off,” he says. He knows, somewhere - he shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter - Lan Zhan is taken - but he still shouldn't. It’s just - not right. Even if - even if they can just be friends. But he can't stop it. 

Lan Zhan is a challenge to read and a half, but Wei Ying is reasonably confident he looks pleased. He nods, even though Wei Ying hasn’t asked him a question. “Yes,” he says. 

“Well OK then,” Wei Ying says, smiling. He can’t fucking stop it. “I’ll message you about it.” 

“Oh,” Lan Zhan says. “OK.” 

After he’s gone and before the evening rush begins, Wei Ying takes a selfie of himself looking quizzical in front of their chalk board of beers. ‘ Beer?’ He types. It takes him ages to find the punctuation. Honestly . He feels so much more comfortable back on messaging. He feels able to tease. 

Wei Ying gets home much later than he hoped he would and Nie Mingjue is already snoring. His phone buzzes just as he’s plugging it in, ready to go to sleep. 

It’s Lan Zhan. You look handsome , it says. 

Wei Ying stares at it, rubs his eyes. It’s still there when he opens them, but only for a second before it disappears to be replaced with the struck-through circle - and - this message was deleted , his phone tells him. 

Wei Ying has a really bad night’s sleep, and by morning he’s certain he must have hallucinated what it actually said. 

---

They start hanging out on Mondays. 

Thankfully it involves none of the awkwardness of the surprise brewery meet. Wei Ying thinks Lan Zhan is potentially more of a successful planner than a man who is at home with spontaneity. 

Wei Ying suggests the park and they spend the first few outings enjoying the sun and doing little more than deepening the sort of conversations they’d been having via message about their respective Cordela Delaneuve obsessions over a couple of hours. It’s such a relief for Wei Ying, who always wants to say more than he could ever type. The idea that they could have ever been as awkward with each other as they were at the brewery quickly becomes a ridiculous notion, as he discovers that Lan Zhan is actually quite the talker if you get him on the right topics. And Wei Ying can make him laugh , oh god. He almost wishes he had not discovered this because now he just can’t stop trying. 

After a few Mondays, Wei Ying suggests they go further afield, and they take it in turns to suggest some of their favourite places to go in London. It’s surprisingly revealing about a person, Wei Ying thinks, what sights they like. 

It turns out that Lan Zhan is quite the gallery snob, and they wander their way around some obscure arsed exhibitions. Wei Ying favours the affordable experience , and he takes them on whatever deals he can get for a VR room, karaoke, the wheel, a boat trip down the river. Lan Zhan manages them all with expert aplomb. Dry, dignified and composed even as Wei Ying tries to get him to do more and more ridiculous things. But his favourite trip of all is when they go to the aquarium. For some reason, that day, Lan Zhan is wearing white, loose light fabrics, and his eyes light up with delight at the fish. He glows in the glimmering, waving blue light. 

Wei Ying manages to tell Nie Mingjue. It’s perfectly safe after all. He and Lan Zhan are both taken, even if they seem to have some sort of unspoken agreement where they never mention their partners. It happens naturally after Nie Mingjue happens to ask him what he’s going to do one Monday when he’s leaving for work. 

“A funny thing -,” Wei Ying says, straightening Mingjue’s tie. “I’m hanging out with this guy I met - through Delaneuve - fan - stuff. He’s such a nerd.” He laughs. “An actor -,” he says. 

“That’s nice, babe,” Nie Mingjue says. He looks pleased. “I’m so glad you got a fan friend.” 

And it’s not a big deal - it isn’t. It’s nice. So that’s that. 

“What do you think is your favourite piece of work that you’ve done?” Wei Ying asks Lan Zhan, who’s lying stretched out on the hilly bank somewhere in front of the Greenwich Observatory. Wei Ying’s sitting up with a hand around his knees because he’s eating an ice cream. Lan Zhan eschewed ice cream. Wei Ying doesn’t think he’s seen a single grain of sugar pass Lan Zhan’s lips since that first time he put a sugar cube in his tea, the cafe when they met properly for the first time, and Wei Ying told him he was sweet enough already. 

Lan Zhan doesn’t answer him at first. He drums his fingers on his chest, and presses his head further back into his palm, where his arm is stretched back so he can rest his head on it. 

“Don’t tell me,” Wei Ying says. “That Holby City cameo.” 

Lan Zhan smiles, easy, closes his eyes against the amber afternoon sun. It’s getting cooler though, by the week. Summer’s drawing to a close. Wei Ying gets up to drop the end of his wrapper in the bin, and licks his sticky fingers. When he sits down again, Lan Zhan is looking back at him, a more solemn expression on his face. “Bittersweet Lilac,” he says, quietly. “It’s the one that means the most to me.” 

It’s not one that Wei Ying recognises from his and Huaisang’s early stalking, but then Wei Ying hasn’t done any Lan Wangji ‘research’ since then. He hasn’t felt able to. It just felt wrong. Even though he’d wanted to many times. 

“What -,” he starts, but Lan Wangji is up on his feet, brushing down his trousers, and he starts walking away before Wei Ying has a chance to ask him anything about it. 

He’s quiet as they get the boat back to the south bank where they must part for their respective homes. 

“Are you OK?” Wei Ying asks him. 

Lan Zhan closes his eyes, leans back in his chair. Wei Ying can’t look at him. It’s too much. “Tired,” he says. “Just tired.”

Nie Mingjue is doing weights in the living room when Wei Ying gets back, and he realises it’s much later than he’d planned. He puts them down on the floor, sweat dripping down his forehead, when Wei Ying peers around the door. 

“Don’t stop, babe,” Wei Ying says. “Sorry, I got held up. You go on. I’m going to get an early night.” 

“OK,” Mingjue says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Love you.” 

Wei Ying finds the film on his laptop as soon as he gets into bed, feeling kind of guilty as if it's contraband. 

Lan Wangji’s clearly on the cast list under the film title, but there’s no mention of his character on the blurb, which makes sense when he starts watching, as he’s not a lead. Wei Ying shuffles down in the bed a little, settling in. Kind of weird, he thinks, to particularly like a show you’re not the lead in, when you’re the lead in so many. Lan Zhan’s maybe a couple of years younger in the film. Maybe he’s affectionate about his earlier break out roles. 

The film is set in the sixties. Lan Zhan plays the younger brother of the central character. It becomes quickly apparent that her journey of self discovery and empowerment, the focus of the film, is reflected in reverse, and darkly, in Lan Zhan’s side-plot realisation in the film that he has fallen for an older man, white, moustached and boring, obviously, which all starts very well, but is clearly going to end in social rejection, romantic rejection, and basically it’s all heading toward his tragic suicide which will be lied about by his family. Wei Ying knows the specifics way before he gets there because he checks wikipedia when he sees the signs. 

He’s a mess of conflicting emotions as soon as the heady days of Lan Zhan’s romance begin. Firstly, why is Lan Zhan, of all people, so attached to a queer part, and - worst of all, potentially connecting to it in a quite frankly unprocessed and early journey way, where he’s satisfied to be a tragic side plot. Wei Ying supposes he must have that weird actor thing, where playing gay is a badge of pride or honour. Or - something. He doesn’t really seem like that though. Wei Ying doesn’t know. Why the fuck should he really know what Lan Zhan is like at all. 

But then, and he hates himself for being so basic, Lan Zhan and his co-star play out - just - one of the most astonishingly raw love and sex scenes he’s ever seen and he descends into an absolute ball of horn. 

Of course it’s precisely this moment that Nie Mingjue chooses to enter. Wei Ying tries to close his mouth and just look sort of medium intellectually interested. 

“Oh I see,” Mingjue says, “couldn’t wait for me to watch the dirty bits.”

“Shut up,” Wei Ying tells him, half heartedly pushing himself up the bed a bit with his fists. “It’s arthouse.” 

Mingjue slips off his clothes and slides under the covers in his boxers. He has his hands on Wei Ying’s crotch, in seconds, so he can hardly hide the signs of his arousal. 

“Arthouse you say,” Nie Mingjue says to him, quietly, raising his eyebrow. 

“Mmmnnn,” Wei Ying breathes, sliding down again and opening his legs up as Nie Mingjue slides his shorts off, and then his own, licking his fingers before he turns his attention to opening him up. Nie Mingjue looks over his shoulder to check out the on screen action, still very much underway, but then he turns all of his attention to Wei Ying, ducking his head down between his legs. 

Wei Ying has the wherewithal to grab the remote and crank down the volume, but he watches over Nie Mingjue’s back as he licks and fingers him, and then over his shoulder when things have moved on to more of a morning after and romance montage, as his boyfriend fucks into him, hard, face buried in his neck. Wei Ying comes quicker than he has in years. 

When he wakes in the morning, Wei Ying finds he is still fucking randy, and he’s as hard as a rock. He rolls towards Nie Mingjue and clings onto him, troubled by his duplicity. He squeezes his boyfriend's enormous biceps as he wakes slowly, feeling a little as if he’s clinging on for dear life. 

“Morning baby,” Mingjue says, softly, croakily. “You need some more already?” 

“Mingjue -,” Wei Ying says, face in his pecs. “He has a girlfriend, so it’s fine -,” he swallows, “but it was my friend in that film - the actor.” 

Nie Mingjue strokes Wei Ying’s hair away from his face, pushes him away from his chest. Wei Ying can feel him hardening under his leg. “OK,” he says, looking at him, intently. “OK.” 

Wei Ying rolls over onto his back, and groans. “I need you to fuck me,” he says, closing his eyes. 

Mingjue spreads his hand over Wei Ying’s belly, and when Wei Ying opens his eyes, he’s looking down at him, softly. “You liked it, didn’t you?” He says.

Wei Ying nods. “You liked it, too.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes darken, “turn over,” he says, stern. 

Wei Ying obliges, and his lids flicker as Nie Mingjue prises his cheeks apart and presses himself into him, rougher, and harder than he has in a long time. Wei Ying loses the power of speech, dribbling into their pillow, as they both come after what feels like only a few, short, pounding thrusts. 

They don’t talk any more about it, but Wei Ying can hear Mingjue whistling brightly downstairs as he languishes in bed, right up until he shuts himself into the bathroom to shower. And Wei Ying has a good fucking day, even though his arse is as sore as all hell.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying can’t message Lan Zhan for a couple of days after that. It feels wrong, and he eventually gets a clipped and sad little message. 

Are you OK?

Dandy , Wei Ying types back, but he puts the phone down again immediately after and tries not to look at it too much. He puts a thumbs up on a couple of updates from Lan Zhan about what he’s up to, and a suggestion for the coming Monday - the Tate Modern. He knows he must seem a bit weird to Lan Zhan - unusual -, but he just doesn’t want to have to deal with any of this, and by Monday things will probably seem fine again. Time out for an odd little interlude. 

On Sunday morning, Wei Ying wakes, on his own - Mingjue must already have escaped to the gym - to find a message from Lan Zhan from very early in the small hours. He must have gone out after their Saturday show or something. 

Got you a comp for tonight’s show he’s messaged. I didn’t know if you would want to come - we just get them sometimes . 

Wei Ying sits bolt upright in bed. His heart has picked up speed because he doesn’t know what to do. It’s weirdly forced casual for Lan Zhan. Usually he makes things sound way more intense than they actually are and not - less. He’s also - weirdly thrilled. Going to see Lan Zhan in a show - a live theatre performance - it’s - he - it’s - daunting. 

OMGeeeeeeeeeee Wei Ying slams into the phone, before he can prevent himself. wild horses wont tstpo meeeeeeeeeee . He finds a horses emoji in the time it would probably have taken to correct his typos, and sends it, feeling smug. 

Come to the stage door and I’ll meet you afterwards , Lan Zhan tells him. 

You mind if I got o see my actor freind in show toghit , Wei Ying asks Mingjue.

Of course, babe , Mingjue texts back soon after. No subtext to speak of, no subtext at all. 

---

Wei Ying goes to the theatre entirely unprepared. He’s expecting good things, especially after being so affected by the early-ish film performance of a much younger Lan Wangji, but the fact is, he is completely unready to witness raw and live current theatre actor Lan Wangji. He hardly remembers to breathe in the first half, and he feels a little sick with it. The idea that Lan Zhan just - does this -, often twice in one day - twice in the space of only a few hours in fact -, is almost horrifying. Then he turns up for Wei Ying on a Monday and is just - a fun guy with thoughts and views and apparently endless time to listen to all of Wei Ying’s bullshit. 

Wei Ying can only sit and stare at the safety curtain in the interval, while people bustle around him. He’s captivated. He’s convinced. He is a dead man. 

He wipes the sweat off his forehead as the curtains close for the final time, and pushes himself up on shaking legs. His hands feel springy where he’s been clapping harder than he ever has before, and his throat is raw from whooping. He thinks he might have entirely dissociated. 

He runs to the nearest likely looking shop for some flowers before he goes round to the stage door because he knows it will take Lan Zhan a little time to get to it, and the soft late summer rain, now a little cold even, wakes him up and he’s grateful for it. 

He hangs back in the dark while Lan Zhan tends to his fans at the stage door. He doesn’t say a lot, but he seems attentive towards them, posing for a picture or two, signing an autograph or three. Eventually, he spots Wei Ying, and excuses himself politely, and the small crowd dissipates. 

Wei Ying obviously hasn’t given it a lot of thought, but he supposes, if anyone had asked him what Lan Zhan would be wearing after a performance, he would have guessed comfortable joggers and a T-shirt under a hoodie. But he’d have been wrong. Very wrong indeed. As Lan Zhan walks towards him, Wei Ying’s breath stutters because he is an absolute vision. He looks ready for a photo shoot in sickeningly expensive looking fitted but loose garb and he virtually glides towards him.

Wei Ying runs a hand through his hair, exceedingly aware of his toast-like status. 

Lan Zhan stops a little way in front of him. “Hi,” he says. 

“Oh my goodness,” Wei Ying says, stepping forward, and gripping Lan Zhan’s upper arms, just for a moment, clutching the flowers on the back of one of Lan Zhan’s arms, letting go when he realises - they barely touch each other normally - perhaps just the odd brush of limbs. Fingers. “You were incredible,” he tells him. “Truly. I don’t know what to say.” He holds out the flowers to Lan Zhan, and he takes them. 

“You don’t need to say anything,” Lan Zhan says. He's holding the flowers in both hands.

Wei Ying nods. “Well. He says. I should thank you for the ticket. I never go to the theatre. And it’s been wonderful, honestly.” 

“I was just glad you could come,” Lan Zhan says. He gives him a small smile. He looks sort of shy.

“No Mianmian tonight?” Wei Ying asks, looking around him. 

Lan Zhan frowns at him. 

“Well - uh -,” Wei Ying wonders if he should just go now. He’s unsure of the protocol having literally never done anything remotely like this before in his life.

“Coffee?” Lan Zhan says, suddenly. Actually he kind of blurts it, which is very unusual for him. 

“OK,” Wei Ying says. He looks around him again, as if a coffee shop will simply appear in front of them. 

“This way,” Lan Zhan says. 

They walk in silence for a bit, passing a couple of bars and a late night department store Wei Ying knows will have a serviceable cafe still open. “What about - ?” He gestures at the door. 

Lan Zhan shrugs. “It might be nicer to have it at mine,” he says. “Less noisy. I’ve got a good machine.” 

Wei Ying nods, “OK,” he says, unsure now, what Lan Zhan’s dressed up for precisely. He checks his phone. It’s not horribly late. 

Wei Ying keeps expecting them to duck down into a tube station, but astonishingly, Lan Zhan has a flat not far off Russell Square, so it doesn’t take them long to get there by foot. It ain’t shabby either. Wei Ying tries to hide his shock.

Lan Zhan seems to have given up on conversation anyway, so Wei Ying can just stay quiet as they walk up the multiple flights of stairs, and Lan Zhan lets them in. 

He throws his keys into a dish when they get through the door, and places the flowers next to it, and he toes off his shoes and hangs his coat, so Wei Ying follows suit. 

Wei Ying opens his mouth to make an inane comment about how nice the flat is, when Lan Zhan suddenly has him pressed up against the back of the door. All Wei Ying can think is how surprisingly strong he is, and how the large brass doorknob is sticking into what is presumably his right kidney as he stares up at him, - and it’s instinctual, he can’t even stop himself as he melts into the door, arching his back as Lan Zhan runs a hand up the side of his body, sliding it around his neck as he takes his mouth in his and presses himself, hard and warm against Wei Ying.

“Urrgh,” Wei Ying breathes into his mouth before he kisses him back without thinking. His lips are soft and warm and Wei Ying wants to eat his clever tongue. 

Fortunately it’s only a couple of seconds before his brain kicks in, which is lucky because everyone is getting rapidly firmer down below and he has a feeling if they begin to really appreciate this at the same time then no-one is getting out of here intact. 

Wei Ying pulls off, ducks his head to the side and presses his palms on Lan Zhan’s chest, gentle but firm. “Lan Zhan,” he gasps. 

Lan Zhan pulls off to look at him, stepping back, but still holding on to his neck, his waist. He looks thoughtful, affectionate, his eyes clearly absorbing Wei Ying’s mouth, his nose, his eyes. He looks loving, hungry, happy. Wei Ying can’t believe he’s got them into this fucking shitshow of a fucking cluster fuck .

“Fuck,” he says. “Lan Zhan?” 

Lan Zhan’s face falls, and this time he does let go. “Wei Ying?” He says. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, putting his hands up to his face. Trying not to wail. “I’m so sorry. Oh god. I’m so sorry.” 

Before he gives it a lot more thought, Wei Ying allows himself to slide down the back of the door to sit on the cold tiles. He puts his elbows on his knees, presses his head into his palms and groans. “Oh - fuck,” he says. “Fuckity fucking fuck .” He peers through his fingers up at Lan Zhan

Lan Zhan stares at him for a moment, an ethereal statue of beauty, before he lowers himself to the floor to sit, cross legged, in front of him. “Wei Ying?” He says.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “I’ve got a boyfriend .” He grimaces. “You’ve got a girlfriend .” 

Lan Zhan jerks his head back, a look of confusion clouding his face. “I don’t have a girlfriend ,” he says. “What?” 

“Oh god,” Wei Ying says. “Mianmian?” 

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Why -?” He starts, and tails off. “I didn’t - say -,” he clears his throat. “What?” 

“Oh god,” Wei Ying moans again, because of course, the only reason he thinks that Mianmian is Lan Zhan’s girlfriend is from his inappropriate internet trawling. It has absolutely nothing to do with any of his interactions with actual Lan Zhan - or actual Mianmian, for that matter. He’s a tool. He’s a complete fucking waste of space, and it’s only just beginning to dawn on him quite how much he has fucked this one up. 

“Wei Ying. You have a boyfriend ?” Lan Zhan says. “But - why -?” 

Wei Ying does not want him to continue to ask that question. To lay it painfully down in front of him. You have a boyfriend, Wei Ying. A boyfriend. Why have you spent every waking moment for the last few weeks either thinking about and/or messaging me? Why have you been out on - essentially - dates with me almost every Monday? What were you thinking, Wei Ying? Why do you treat me as if I’m the centre of your universe? Why did you let me think we were becoming soulmates without drawing up any boundary lines ? All of these would be perfectly reasonable questions. What the fuck has he been thinking ? 

“I thought - we were friends -,” Wei Ying whispers. And it’s unfair. It’s so unfair of him to say that. 

“Oh,” Lan Zhan says. “I’m so sorry. Wei Ying,” he says. He stands up. “I’m sorry.”

Wei Ying looks up at him from the floor.

Lan Zhan wipes his forehead, his nose, then across his mouth. Wei Ying has never seen him look so discomposed. “I - do you - I can make some coffee - perhaps we should - talk?” He says. 

Wei Ying pushes himself up. “You don’t need to make me coffee,” he says. “This is -,” he swallows. “This is all my fault.”

Lan Zhan looks at him, face pleading. His brow is furrowed and he is very, very pale. 

“I really like you,” Wei Ying says. “Like - really like you.” He looks down at the tiles. “But I’ve made a terrible error of judgement. I just - I assumed you were straight. If I’d only said - about my partner -.” 

“Partner?” Lan Zhan whispers. 

“I thought it -, I thought you -. And then - we - friends,” he says. He feels almost numb. 

Lan Zhan looks down at the floor, pulling his sleeves over his fingers. Then he looks back up. “Wei Ying. I think you should leave,” he says, and he takes an audible breath in.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, and he can’t keep the urgency out of his voice. “Can we talk - please?” He asks. 

Lan Zhan nods curtly. Yes. We can. We should. Tomorrow,” he says. “But I can’t talk now, Wei Ying. Please don’t make me.” His voice cracks a little at the end and Wei Ying leans down to put his shoes back on. 

“OK,” he says, quickly. 

Lan Zhan stares at him, pulling the ends of his sleeves with his fingers, twisting them a little, while Wei Ying pulls his coat on. 

“Listen -,” Wei Ying says - “the show was - incredible. I hope you know that.” 

Lan Zhan presses his lips together. Then he leans past Wei Ying to open the door. “Please,” he says. “Go.” 

Wei Ying slips out, body heating with shame, and tries to get down and away as fast as he can. 

The air is cold at the bottom of the staircase, near the exit to the building. Wei Ying pulls his coat around him and walks briskly back towards the river. 

All the while, graded realisations hit him in sickening jolts. Every time they’ve been together takes on a new significance. 

Worst of all, tonight must have all been by Lan Zhan's design. A special Sunday night so they could have had all of Monday together. And now instead he has to face up to a very different, colder reality than he would ever have reasonably expected from the lead up. From Wei Ying’s behaviour. 

It’s agony. Wei Ying wants, more than anything, to go back to Lan Zhan, to comfort him, to hold him. 

Instead walks until he feels ready to get on a bus to take him back home. It takes a long time.  

--- 

Wei Ying sleeps so badly he has to get up in the night and watch TV on the sofa with the volume down. 

He can’t bear the thought of disturbing Nie Mingjue, and he can’t bear the thought of being in his own head in their bed, knowing how badly he’s betrayed - well -, everyone. 

He creeps up to their bedroom as soon as it turns six, to wake Mingjue.

“Wei Ying.” Mingjue says, rubbing his face. “You OK?” He sits up. Rubs his face some more. “You look awful.” 

Wei Ying squirms where he’s sitting on the bed. “I need to talk, quite seriously to you, before work.” He says. “Is that OK?” 

Nie Mingjue squints at him. “Babe,” he says. “What is it?” 

Wei Ying takes his hand and puts it in his lap. For whatever reason, he needs to hold onto it while he explains, he doesn’t give it much thought. He tells him about the friendship. He tells him about his faulty assumptions. He admits that perhaps he got a little too into it because he was a little too into it. He tells him about the kiss. 

It takes a lot less time than he thinks it’s going to. In fact it takes barely any time at all. 

Nie Mingjue takes his hand back, gently, sighs deeply. Looks down at the duvet. 

“I totally understand if you need some time,” Wei Ying says. “If you want to think about it - ask me questions - whatever -,” he says. “I can stay with Jiang Cheng if you need me to. For however long. He’ll love this,” he says, drily. Then his heart starts to pound. “I can leave - if you need me to,” he says. Just so it’s clear. 

“Wei Ying - it’s fine.” Nie Mingjue doesn’t look up at him. “In truth -,” he says, and he takes a deep breath, all the way in and all the way out. “In truth -, I don’t entirely dislike - what’s happened.”

Wei Ying feels his mouth drop open, involuntarily. “Come again,” he says. He clears his throat.

Nie Mingjue squeezes his forehead between two fingers. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know what I mean exactly.” 

“I’m going to be very clear that I can only be friends with Lan Zhan today,” Wei Ying says to him, slowly. 

“I guess I’m saying, if you wanted to ask for more -,” Nie Mingjue pauses, “I’m saying maybe we could think about - other - options .” 

“Options -?” Wei Ying says, feeling helpless. His heart sinks, “I don’t think we should split up just like that babe, I don’t think so. I’m not ready to give up just like that -,” he says. He doesn’t want to beg but he feels close to it. “Nothing happened - not really. I promise.” 

Mingjue shakes his head. “I don’t mean split up.” 

Wei Ying frowns. He feels like they’re speaking a different language. 

Nie Mingjue gets up. “Never mind. Look. You’ve had a shitty time. It sounds like it’s been worse for him. You need to go and fix it. I’ll be here this evening - like always.” He walks to the bathroom. “Wei Ying,” he says, turning to look at him. “Thanks for being open with me.” He’s closed the door behind him before Wei Ying has a chance to respond. 

Wei Ying’s entire body feels like it’s filled with electric eels as he makes his way into town on the bus. He has to get off and walk the last few stops because he needs to burn some of it off, but it doesn’t help. Instead he’s sweaty and flushed by the time he gets to the Tate Modern, which is where they decided - what feels like several years ago after the events of last night - they would meet today. 

He hasn’t sent a message to Lan Zhan, nor has he received one, so he knows there’s a high chance that he won’t turn up at all, and who could blame him, but as he walks down the last few steps he sees that Lan Zhan is already there, serene and poised just outside the entrance, light jacket waving slightly in the breeze, his long beautiful hair falling loose, which is a rare occurrence. He looks fucking perfect, which Wei Ying was not expecting. Wei Ying realises he’s got kind of used to seeing him more natural - blotchy skin sometimes, or blackheads, the odd spot, puffy eyes. He wants it back. 

“Hi,” Lan Zhan says, when Wei Ying gets to him. “Shall we?” He turns away, before Wei Ying can say anything at all, and that’s probably for the best. He walks into the entrance and Wei Ying just follows. Lan Zhan uses his membership pass for the exhibitions and cafe because that’s what he always does for them both. Because Wei Ying is an arsehole and Lan Zhan is a beautiful and kind man who makes adequate preparation for his life and has consideration for his friends. 

“Lan Zhan, thank you sooo much for coming,” Wei Ying says, as they walk into the vast turbine hall. “I don’t deserve it and I know it must have been hard. You’re incredible -.”

But Lan Zhan turns sharply and holds up his hand to stop him. “Wei Ying,” he says. “Sorry. I need -.” He looks down at the floor. Then he looks up again, not in Wei Ying’s eye but slightly past his shoulder, as if his gaze is grazing his ear. He speaks quietly. “You’re - so - articulate, it’s so easy for you,” he says. “So free ,” he sighs. “And I’m not. I need - to tell you things. But I need - time. Please,” he says. 

Wei Ying realises he hasn’t moved and also that his mouth is wide open. He hadn’t - seen - things - their relationship - himself -, in the way Lan Zhan’s describing. He hadn’t seen things in that way. 

He presses his lips firmly together and does a zip sign with his hand, eyes wide. He nods. 

They walk around for a while before Lan Zhan seems ready to speak again. He pauses at the top of the ramp and Wei Ying joins him so they are standing side by side. 

“I made a terrible error of judgement,” Lan Zhan says, down the ramp. “I was foolish, and I am deeply embarrassed, about my feelings, but especially about my behaviour.” 

Wei Ying’s chest is hollow. 

“Most of all, I think I must have subconsciously chosen to ignore signs that were clearly there -,” Lan Zhan breathes in quickly, and visibly swallows, and Wei Ying’s insides are entirely occupied with a silent scream. “I apologise.” Lan Zhan says. 

Wei Ying isn’t sure he can let this go on any longer, “Lan Zhan -,” he says, reaching out tentatively.

“No,” Lan Zhan says, looking at him angrily, and then back down the ramp again. “You thought we were friends, Wei Ying, and I betrayed that trust.” Lan Zhan threads his fingers together and looks down at his hands, clasped neatly in front of him. “I value our friendship too much to walk away from it. That is - if you feel the same. I won’t let my pride, my - shame - get in the way of that.” He swallows again, “my disappointment,” he says, and Wei Ying can barely hear his voice. 

Wei Ying has definitely had about as much as he can take at this point. He walks around to stand in front of Lan Zhan, he doesn’t care if it makes him angry. He takes his shoulders in his hands. Lan Zhan looks away to the side sharply. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says firmly. “I need to correct some of your interpretations, quite drastically,” he says. “But I’m not doing it here, not without cake and tea.” He squeezes his shoulders and Lan Zhan turns his head minutely further away. “I absolutely refuse to have this conversation without sugar.” He lets go and looks down. 

Lan Zhan remains frozen where he stands.

“Come on,” Wei Ying says, gesturing with his head and tugging lightly on Lan Zhan’s elbow as he passes. He lets go and walks a little in front, only briefly checking behind him to make sure Lan Zhan is following. 

Wei Ying looks straight ahead of him as he walks, so Lan Zhan has time to compose himself if he needs it. They wait for the lift, and then head up in silence. Wei Ying points to a free table and goes to order. 

Lan Zhan looks as serene as ever when Wei Ying gets back to him. He doesn’t touch any of what Wei Ying has brought, and so he pours him some tea. Lan Zhan puts his hand over his cup when Wei Ying tweezes a sugar cube to offer him. Wei Ying’s shoulders slump, “Lan Zhan -,” he says, trying to coax. Lan Zhan shakes his head minutely, and Wei Ying gives up, plopping it in his own fucking cup although he hates the taste. Lan Zhan blinks back at him. 

“What you’re missing from this whole picture,” Wei Ying says, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip, “is what I’ve done.” Wei Ying is worried he’s going to be sufficiently persuasive that Lan Zhan will never want to speak to him again, but the alternative - which appears to be Lan Zhan torturing himself about it until he dies - is worse. “What you’ve left out of the equation, is how I feel about you. And that I was dishonest about - uh - things . Well, everything, really.”

Lan Zhan tilts his head and squints his eyes at him. It’s a tiny movement. 

Wei Ying nods. “It’s just, it’s all been so compelling. You’re so - I don’t know. It’s so stupid.” He looks down. “I wanted you to fall in love with me.” He swallows. “I wanted to have you. I want to -. But I didn’t think for a second that I could. I think that was my main error. I mean, you are straight - were straight -,” he corrects quickly. “And - look at me,” he gestures to himself. “And look at you,” he sweeps his hand back in Lan Zhan’s direction. “You’re in a completely different league.” He tries to smile but it probably comes out wonky. “So I got lost trying to convince you to love me, knowing you never would and knowing that that was OK anyway, but perhaps giving the message that - it - would be - nice?” 

“I’m not - in - love -,” Lan Zhan says, softly.

“No, no, I know. I know,” Wei Ying waves his hand. “But you get the general drift.” 

Lan Zhan shakes his head slowly. 

“I think I - over shot.” Wei Ying says, carefully. “And I hurt you. I’m sorry.” He reaches his hand out slowly, across the table so that the ends of his fingers touch Lan Zhan’s finger tips, where one hand just appears over the table top. 

Lan Zhan doesn’t immediately snatch his hand away, which Wei Ying takes as a good sign. But he doesn’t speak. And honestly, Wei Ying has run out of steam at this point. He’s just given potentially the most humiliating speech of his life and he’s given a lot of humiliating speeches. 

He can’t bring himself to care. He just does not want to lose Lan Zhan - he can’t - and it’s all he can think about. “I don’t want to lose you, Lan Zhan,” he tells him. 

“Well,” Lan Zhan says, jutting his chin out a little, and moving his hand into his lap. He pauses, and Wei Ying stomach squirms horribly, “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Wei Ying has to physically prevent himself from melting onto the table. “Fine,” he says. And it sounds excessively breathy even to him. 

“I think -,” Lan Zhan says, finally picking up his mug and taking a small sip of his tea. When he places it back in the saucer he wipes his lip delicately with his thumb, “I think we can carry on with Mondays - if - you -?” 

Wei Ying nods vigorously.

“As friends,” Lan Zhan says, firmly. 

Wei Ying nods, less vigorously. He knows that was the aim of today though, that was the aim of today. That was the aim and he needs to stay focused on the aim .

“I’ll need to meet your - boyfriend,” Lan Zhan says. “For - clarity of - the - picture.” He adds, somewhat enigmatically.

“Nie Mingjue?” Wei Ying says, and he’s sort of stalling.

Lan Zhan nods, “Nie Mingjue,” he parrots, his usually relaxed lips forming a little robotically around the syllables. 

“He knows about you,” Wei Ying says. “I told him - last night.”

Lan Zhan presses his lips together and his brow furrows - but a blink and it’s gone. “Good,” he says. “Well, then.” 

“Well then,” Wei Ying says. After having been so sure about what he needed to say only moments ago, he now feels utterly at sea. He can’t really believe they’ve had the conversation that they’ve had. 

Lan Zhan pushes his chair back. “I think that’s enough for me today,” he says. 

Wei Ying nods at him curtly. He finds he can’t move, and so he just grips the table and watches as Lan Zhan leaves the cafe.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying can’t believe his shitty luck next Sunday night. “Every - where?” He asks Yanli, with a growing horror at the unfolding situation. 

“Yes, it was like the exorcist, honestly.” She breathes out loudly and her voice gets closer to the phone and more hushed, “ and I don’t think it’s the end of it.”

“O - K -,” Wei Ying says, weakly.

“So, you’ll take him tomorrow then?” Yanli says briskly. “You’ve got the day off, and I would miss work only I’ve got an important fucking bastard of a meeting right in the middle of it.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Wei Ying tells her. He doesn’t have to sound enthusiastic about it. 

Wei Ying leaves a voice note for Lan Zhan. “I promise you this is not an excuse,” he whines, “but I have to look after a vomiting child tomorrow so we need to cancel duck tours -,” oh - it was duck tours, he wants to cry, they’d booked it weeks ago, “well he won’t be vomiting tomorrow, but I feel like I should probably not take him on a duck tour.” Wei Ying swallows, a sudden thought hitting him. “At least - I hope he won’t be vomiting tomorrow,” he says. “Lan Zhan - I’m so sorry,” he adds.

He doesn’t have to wait long before a message appears. We don’t have to cancel Wei Ying - I can come and help .

Wei Ying dithers for precisely two seconds before he thinks, fuck it . imma lock u in b4 tak it back , he types, not carefully, then sends him his address by pinning the location. 

Wei Ying is trying to inhale coffee against his drowsiness the next morning when he hears the chaotic arrival at the front door. He jerks his mug and spills it as he puts it down on the table, and the delay of the wipe up means he misses Yanli completely. She’s such a slippery one when she wants to be. Jin Ling is limpeting Nie Mingjue carry-cuddle style, who gives Wei Ying a wry smile as he rubs his back. 

“It’s OK, little monkey,” Mingjue tells him. “Mama’s going to be back tonight.” 

When he turns to take Jin Ling into the living room, Wei Ying can see he looks happy enough, snuggling his face into Nie Mingjue’s neck and clutching his teddy bear. He looks a little pale, but otherwise very much his normal self. 

Nie Mingjue drops him down onto the sofa, barely bending his knees so he goes down with a satisfying plop, and Jin Ling giggles. 

“I have to go to work,” he announces, so Wei Ying goes to sit by his charge on the sofa. Mingjue gives them both a kiss on the head before he leaves.  

Wei Ying wraps him in a sofa throw and they’re just getting into an episode of Modern Family when the doorbell goes. It’s a bit grown up and rude but Wei Ying figures, what the hell, he needs to keep him entertained, and he’s completely rapt. 

The problem is, Lan Zhan is actually wearing joggers and a T-shirt with an unzipped hoodie, and Wei Ying probably doesn’t need to see that. He’s got so used to pristine Lan Zhan and he just absolutely isn’t prepared for slubby Lan Zhan who does the most glamorous version of slubby he has ever seen in his life. Wei Ying wants to press him onto the sofa, stick his head underneath his T-shirt and just sort of explore under there. He thinks he might find some tiny stray hairs here and there, that he could isolate, and suck, and he desperately needs to know about his nipples. He doesn’t know where all of this is coming from. 

“Hello,” he says. His voice sounds strangely bright. 

“Hi,” Lan Zhan says. 

Wei Ying turns off the TV to introduce the patient. Jin Ling looks at Lan Zhan with a grumpy little grimace - probably annoyed to be interrupted - but he melts fast enough when Lan Zhan gives him a shy smile. Wei Ying doesn’t think anyone could respond to Lan Zhan any differently.

They have a pleasant, low key day. Jin Ling is a lot less shitty when he’s tired from being up all night and full of virus. They watch TV, play some cards and a board game, and have fun in the kitchen making whacky home brewed rehydration drinks. Wei Ying gives Lan Zhan the prize for best one and he looks genuinely pleased. They don’t talk much outside of keeping Jin Ling entertained. It’s nice. 

Yanli turns up earlier than expected, hair slipping out of her bun, and looking harried. “I felt so bad I left as soon after my meeting as I could,” she said. 

“Ah, Yanli,” Wei Ying says. He feels terrible. “You didn’t need to.” 

Jin Ling, himself, looks very put out to be going home. 

Yanli looks over his head. “Oh,” she says, in surprise. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Lan Zhan says, quietly. 

“Lan Zhan’s a friend,” Wei Ying says, briskly. “Tea?” He says to her, squeezing the back of Jin Ling’s neck, “so mister here can have a last game with his new favourite person?” They all turn to look at Lan Zhan. 

“Mn,” he says. 

Wei Ying makes tea in the kitchen with Yanli. 

She taps her fingers on her mouth as she regards him. She has a scrutinising look. 

Wei Ying recognises it. Tries to ignore it. “Good day?” He says, pointedly. 

She nods. “Thanks,” she blows onto her tea. “Really. I appreciate it.” 

Wei Ying nods, tries to reach for something else to say but she’s too quick.

“Who on earth is he, Wei Ying?” She says. 

“It’s so random - we got to know each other through a fan thing - you know, my books. He’s just -,” he starts.

“Just a friend, I get it,” she says, nodding. 

Wei Ying looks at the counter top, picks at a bit of mess on it. He gets up to get the dishcloth to have a go at it. 

When he looks up, Yanli is giving him a wry smile. “A friend who - babysits - sick children with you.” 

“Don’t you have to be going?” He says to her. 

“We haven’t brought your nice friend some tea,” she says. 

“Send my love to your dear husband,” Wei Ying tells her, when he finally gets her to the door, and gives her a big, hard kiss on her cheek. 

“And to Mingjue,” she says, tartly. 

He and Lan Zhan wave at Jin Ling all the way down the street, until they turn the corner, because he keeps turning round to check. 

“You don’t like her husband?” Lan Zhan says, when Wei Ying closes the door. Wei Ying has no idea how he can tell. 

“It’s a long story,” he says, leaning heavily against the door. 

Lan Zhan leans more gently against the wall of the hall, hands behind him, pressing back on it. 

It feels weirdly quiet, weirdly intense, now no-one else is around. “Thanks,” Wei Ying says. “It was so much more fun with you here.” He means it. 

Lan Zhan drums his fingers on the wall, looks at his feet, then he pushes himself off and moves towards the shoe rack. “I should be going,” he says.

“Wait -,” Wei Ying says. “Why don’t you stay - eat dinner with us?” He pushes himself up to stand. “We said you should meet Nie Mingjue -,” but he doesn’t know what else to say after this. 

“Will - he - mind?” Lan Zhan says. 

Wei Ying shakes his head. 

“Do you want to - warn him?” He asks.

Wei Ying shrugs. “I’ll message him if you like,” he says. “He’s kind of unshakeable. Like, oddly - uh - stable. He had anger - issues, when he was young, did a lot of work on himself.” He shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain if you don’t know him. You’ll see.” He doesn’t want to talk to Lan Zhan about Mingjue. Every time he does, he feels guilty. He’s so proud of him and he loves him. He does. He’s so proud of them together. 

He sets Lan Zhan to help him prepare a meal for when Mingjue gets home. They work mostly quietly, and Lan Zhan is a responsive and efficient sous chef, which Wei Ying doesn’t find surprising in the least. They fall into a domestic rhythm with an ease that’s almost painful. 

Things have got worse for Wei Ying after the attempted kiss. Much worse. He thought, after all the drama, after they’d got things all out in the open, it would be better. But it isn’t. It’s worse. It’s much worse. He can feel the tension crackle and fizz between them.

He’s no idea what it’s like for Lan Zhan. He’s not giving anything away. Wei Ying tries not to think about it. 

And then of course Lan Zhan and Nie Mingjue get along as if they’d known each other forever. And it’s only detectable to him, because he knows them so well, and he knows what they’re like when they’re nervous even though they go to great lengths to hide it. And neither of them are nervous at all. 

Wei Ying supposes he should hardly be surprised. Somehow the overlaps between the two of them are what attracted him to Lan Zhan so wholeheartedly in the first place. And, it’s hard to admit but thinking about the two of them together doesn’t hurt either. He’s starting to see what Mingjue was getting at. 

Maybe it’s the wine. He doesn’t know. 

Lan Zhan, of course, does not drink the wine. But he sips a fizzy water with lime slowly, laughs at Wei Ying’s jokes and listens to their shared stories with a clear interest, and he smiles at Nie Mingjue warmly, as if he genuinely likes him. 

They both walk with him to the door at the end of the evening, and Wei Ying is relaxed enough now that he’s leaning on Nie Mingjue as they say their goodbyes, but the atmosphere changes a little as Lan Zhan puts his coat on, and Wei Ying pushes himself off. They stand in the hallway for a moment, looking at each other.  

“Well,” Lan Zhan says, breaking the silence. “Thank you both so much for a really lovely evening.” 

Wei Ying is about to speak when Nie Mingjue leans towards Lan Zhan. He slips his hand over his waist, and Wei Ying watches as his fingers disappear to his lower back as he leans in to kiss him on the cheek. It isn’t remotely out of the ordinary for them, for Nie Mingjue to kiss a guest on the cheek as they say goodbye. But even Wei Ying has never touched Lan Zhan like that before, and he - lingers - if just for a moment, and when he pulls away he watches Lan Zhan carefully, under half-lidded eyes. 

For his part, Lan Zhan seems a little wobbly on his feet, and - slowly, slowly -, watching Nie Mingjue all the way, he leans in, to Wei Ying’s cheek, to kiss him. 

His hot, soft and dry lips barely graze Wei Ying’s cheek, but it’s not his typical farewell. Wei Ying lifts his hand to grip Lan Zhan’s upper arm as he does it, partly to steady himself, and he’s frozen, a little, as Lan Zhan pulls away, still watching Mingjue intently. 

Lan Zhan is out of the door before Wei Ying’s closed his partly opened mouth, hand hovering as if his arm is still within reachable distance. 

Wei Ying turns to Mingjue, who looks back, impassive. Wei Ying shakes himself, squeezes Mingjue’s forearm. “I’ll clean up,” he says. 

He thinks Mingjue is asleep when he comes up. He’s turned away, curled up, and taking up an untypically small portion of the bed. But when Wei Ying’s snuggled in to re-read some Cordelia Delaneuve - because it’s been a while - what with everything -, Nie Mingjue surprises him by turning his head towards the ceiling. 

“I thought I might take next Monday off -,” he says, “join you and Lan Zhan.” He rolls back over onto his side. “But you’ll have to check it’s ok with him first,” he says. 

“Mmmm,” Wei Ying says, as casually as he can manage. 

---

Wei Ying has pretty much a full day of meetings and jobs with Nie Huaisang the day after, and he feels uncomplicatedly as relieved as fuck to spend some time just with him. He’s not been around enough for a while now.

“I got into this thing darling, and then this headspace - honestly you don’t want to know about it,” he tells him.

“I actually do, Huaisang,” Wei Ying tells him. “It doesn’t always have to be about me, you know. I want to hear about your - ummm - things .” He’s actually not entirely sure he does want to hear about all of his - things - but he definitely wants to know how he’s doing at least. 

Huaisang pushes his sunglasses down his nose to peer over them at him. “Honestly, honey, it’s for the best,” he says. “Why all this drama?”

“No drama,” Wei Ying says, resting his butt on one of the barrels they’ve hefted out to put on tap. “This Lan Wangji thing has - escalated -,” he says. It comes out tentatively, but he’s already decided it’s for the best to talk to him about it.

Huaisang nods. “Just assume I’m - up to speed,” he says. 

Wei Ying stands up. “What -,” he says, incredulous. “How?” 

Huaisang goes over to the computer, pushes his sunglasses up onto his head and logs on. “Brother’s privileges,” he says, voice clipped. “No need to ask.” 

“When did he even - talk to you?” Wei Ying asks - but he knows he’s going to give up. This has happened to him before. The two of them seem to short cut normal comms. Or short circuit them maybe. Wei Ying doesn’t know and he might as well not even try to. He’s known the Nies as long as he’s lived with the Jiang’s and he’s still never got to the bottom of them.  

Nie Huaisang leans towards him, pushing his elbows across the counter. “Wei Ying,” he says, matter of factly. “I think you seriously need to think about whether your current relationship is the best one for you.” 

Wei Ying cough gasps. “ Huaisang ,” he chides. “He’s your brother .” He puts a hand to his throat, “And - and I - love him.” 

“Hmm,” Huaisang says. “What’s your point?”

“The - point - here - the point - Huaisang , is it sounds an awful lot like you are literally telling me to end my ten year - ten year Huaisang ? Relationship with your literal brother .” 

“Now, now,” Huaisang says, drawing back and upright. “Those are strong words and I think you’ll find I didn't say them.” 

Wei Ying scoffs, “and in any case - I think we both know what’s actually on the table here is some sort of -,” he clears his throat and looks down at his jumper, which has a hole in the sleeve and he’s just noticed. He fiddles with it, “multiple - arrangement,” he says, quietly and quickly. 

Nie Huaisang is suspiciously silent, and Wei Ying looks up, suddenly certain he doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next. 

“Sshshhhh-t -, shhhhhhhhh,” he yells, holding his hand up. “Do - not - make a comment about what’s on the table Huaisang - do not make it smutty - I swear to God Huaisang. No.” He waves his hand desperately at him. 

“Urgh,” Huaisang says, slumping his shoulders. “I don’t love that you’d think I’d take such a tacky option.” 

Wei Ying rolls his eyes at him. He was absolutely going to take that option.

But Huaisang has an oddly serious look on his face. “I just don’t think you’re built for it babe,” he says. “It’s not you.” 

Wei Ying bites his lower lip with his teeth. “I know.”

“Plus,” Huaisang says brightly, “relationships with multiple people are complicated and tiresome. I can’t recommend them.” 

“Huaisang - you were in a five way earlier this year.” 

“Exactly,” Huaisang says. “That’s a few weeks I’m never going to get back.” 

Wei Ying puts his butt back down on the barrel and stares at the floor for a few beats. It’s definitely not going to give him any answers. “I’m fucked,” he says. “Basically. I’m fucked.” 

“Oh. Sweetie,” Huaisang says, tilting his head at him. “Yes.”

Wei Ying puts his head in his hands. 

“I’ll still be here at the end of it,” Huaisang says, quietly. “Whatever happens.”

It’s then that Wei Ying realises he’s very much on the verge of tears. But he doesn’t choose tears. Not today. He makes his way around the counter and he kneels down next to Huaisang. He wraps his arms around his waist and buries his head into his hip and he squeezes him as tightly as if his life depended on it. “Thhsxks,” he breathes into his trousers. 

Huaisang pats him on the shoulder. “There, there,” he says, pausing only briefly before he starts shoving at his shoulder. “We need to do the stock take Wei Ying.” 

---

Nie Mingjue ss coem round to ares on monda , he messages Lan Zhan, the day after. There R optiONS .

It doesn’t take him long to reply. OK he says.

Wei Ying doesn’t even try and pretend to himself Lan Zhan doesn’t know what’s up. He doesn’t even ask anything about what they’re going to do. 

He waits until the end of the evening, when they’ve turned the lights out, to address it properly with Mingjue, because he doesn’t want to have the conversation when they can look at each other. 

“Are we really going to suggest this?” He says. “I mean - is this really the right decision - for us?” He says. But he has a horribly sinking feeling that whatever he might have been missing in their relationship, he’s not alone with it. And he doesn’t really need to ask. 

“I don’t know - Wei Ying -,” he says. “But I feel like it’s the only option.” 

Wei Ying shuffles towards him. “It isn’t , Mingjue,” he says. “It isn’t the only option. We can stay as we are.” He feels sort of desperate saying it.

“But you want him,” Mingjue says. It sounds matter of fact, but Wei Ying knows him too well. He knows the emotion in his voice. 

“You’re everything to me,” Wei Ying tells him. “I’m not joking, Mingjue. I owe you everything.” 

“I know, Wei Ying,” Mingjue says. “I know you feel like that.” 

“I would do anything you asked,” Wei Ying says. And right now he means it. And right now, he thinks what he wants is for Nie Mingjue to forbid him to ever see Lan Zhan again. He thinks that’s what he wants. It would make everything far simpler.

For Lan Zhan as well. 

“Well,” Mingjue says. “I want him too.” He rolls over away from Wei Ying, onto his side. 

Wei Ying holds his breath, but Mingjue doesn’t move. And he doesn’t say any more.

Wei Ying moves towards him, slowly, under the covers. He presses himself against him. Pushes his arm around the front of him to squeeze above his big heart. “I love you,” he tells him. 

They only have one more conversation about it after that. When Nie Mingjue stops Wei Ying as he's leaving for work. 

“Hang on,” he shouts, dashing into the hallway with a winter coat. He wraps it around Wei Ying. “You always forget - and it’s getting colder.” 

“Ah,” Wei Ying says, pushing his arms into the sleeves and pulling the coat close around him. Surprised. Even though he shouldn’t be. This is quite the routine for them at this point. “Thank you,” he says. And grins at him. Then, it suddenly occurs to him. Right then. He doesn’t know why. “I’m not sure it could ever be the three of us,” he says - “at the same time. I'm not sure I could do it.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue says. “Well -.”

“No you’re right,” Wei Ying shakes his head, body warming with embarrassment. “We shouldn’t talk about it anymore - without talking to him about it. We shouldn’t talk about it at all - just the two of us. It’s not fair.” 

Nie Mingjue shakes his head. 

It really isn’t. Wei Ying leaves for work. He doesn’t think he’s going to get used to this. He hopes Lan Zhan turns them down. 

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan doesn’t turn them down. He turns to Nie Mingjue. “What do you mean, be in a relationship with both of you?” 

Nie Mingjue looks to Wei Ying. 

“We don’t really know,” Wei Ying tells him. “We’ve never done it before. And we didn’t want to discuss it without you.” 

Lan Zhan looks down, “I see,” he says. 

“There’s really no rush to decide,” Wei Ying says. He feels as if they could be talking about a party invite. Or a negotiation on supplies. “We understand it’s a rather unusual - uhh - proposition.” 

“No it’s OK,” Lan Zhan looks up at him, and stays looking at him, intently. “I want to.”

Nie Mingjue puts his hand on Wei Ying’s knee, and Wei Ying looks at him. He looks normal, probably, to the outside eye, only Wei Ying can see his jaw is clenched. He puts his hand over the top of his. 

“I have to be very careful -,” Lan Zhan says. “With - you know -,” he tails off. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but we’d need to talk about who you tell -.” 

Wei Ying squeezes Mingjue’s hand. “I think we’d be keeping this very much between us for now,” he says. “If that’s OK. I think we need to figure things out before it goes any further.” He glances at Mingjue, “and maybe that could take a while.”  

“Rumours about men are easier to quash,” Lan Zhan says, absently. “People don’t seem to want to believe them.” 

“Oh,” Wei Ying says. And suddenly he rabidly wants to know the details. “Have there been - many -?” 

Mingjue takes his hand out from under Wei Ying’s and puts his on top. He squeezes it painfully. “Wei Ying,” he says. “No.” 

“There’s been some,” Lan Zhan says. 

Wei Ying doesn’t know what he means, rumours or men, because he didn’t specify in the question. 

He gets up. “I can’t do - this - all at once,” he says, pointing at the both of them. “I don’t think so.” 

Lan Zhan looks up at him, but Nie Mingjue looks into his lap. 

“I mean, I think - watching - maybe?” He says “But not straight away. Then - I don’t know -,” he trails off.  

Lan Zhan nods.

Nie Mingjue. “You two are - further ahead -,” he says. “I think I’d rather take things a little more slowly anyway.” 

Lan Zhan looks up at him with wide eyes. 

“Babe -,” Wei Ying says. 

“Wei Ying, it’s OK,” Nie Mingjue says. “I’m going to the gym, but I’ll be back. And you guys - can -.” He rotates his hand. 

Oh God. “Really?” Wei Ying says. They’ve talked briefly about what might happen today - just the pragmatics of the different outcomes - but the reality of it hits differently. 

“I’m happy - about this,” Nie Mingjue tells him. He doesn’t look all that happy but he nods. “Really Wei Ying.” 

Wei Ying stares at him. This part is only about them. “Mingjue,” he says.

“Really,” he says. 

Wei Ying feels nervous and alone when Nie Mingjue leaves. He realises it’s been a long time since he’s done something daunting without him there. It’s weird. But he needs to pull himself together because if he’s apprehensive, he can’t even imagine what it’s like for Lan Zhan. 

“You want anything?” He asks him, “water?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. 

Wei Ying gets up and holds his hand out for Lan Zhan to take. He feels shivery, but the firm grip of Lan Zhan’s huge hand, long fingers wrapped around his, is grounding. Such a simple thing, holding hands, but it fills his body with a jittery warmth.

He leads Lan Zhan up the stairs, arm stretched behind him. Lan Zhan trails a little, and his weight pulls. Wei Ying lets go of his hand when they get into the bedroom and they stare at the bed for a moment. His and Mingjue’s bed. Wei Ying really hadn’t thought about how odd this might feel. 

He smiles at Lan Zhan. He has a weird urge to laugh, but he holds it firmly back. 

“What do you want?” Lan Zhan asks.

The question surprises Wei Ying. Firstly, he’s taken aback, it’s more confident than he was expecting of him, and it’s also kind of the wrong way around - like - isn’t Wei Ying supposed to be the one who’s in control? He’s older. He’s the one with the boyfriend. It’s his bed. 

More than that, Wei Ying realises he honestly hadn’t thought about what he wants. When he thinks of Lan Zhan, his body feels light, and filled with an energy - a need. He thinks about parts of him he’d like to taste. But, because he wasn’t supposed to touch, he’s been studiously avoiding thinking about anything specific. He doesn’t have a huge repertoire anyway. He’s never really been with anyone properly apart from Mingjue. Not boys, anyway. 

He knows what he wants when he opens his mouth to say it. “I want to be naked with you, under the sheets,” he says. He wants them to talk when they can’t see each other. He wants to feel his way into it. 

When Lan Zhan nods, Wei Ying knows he feels the same, and it’s maybe then that it really hits him. Neither of them have the first clue what they’re doing. He swallows. Best just to put one foot in front of the other, he supposes, and goes to pull off his T-shirt, but as it’s halfway over his head he feels Lan Zhan’s warmth near to him, his hands helping him to pull it off. Wei Ying pauses to lean into to him, breathing heavily. His hands are strong and gentle, and it’s the strangest thing to be leaning on someone who’s half the size of Mingjue. The lack of bulk is odd. When they get the T-shirt off they look each other in the eye, then Wei Ying’s gaze trails to Lan Zhan’s lips. He can’t not look at them. He leans in for the briefest of kisses, Lan Zhan’s hands springing to his waist, then he moves away to pull Lan Zhan’s beautiful soft jersey over his head. It falls to the floor in a pool of fabric and Wei Ying comes back for more kisses.

Lan Zhan presses against him, just briefly, the lightest of touches, but the feel of their cocks brushing against each other under their clothes jolts through Wei Ying’s body. “Uh,” he breathes, bending forwards and pressing his head to Lan Zhan’s chest. 

Lan Zhan squeezes Wei Ying’s upper arms and moves away, walking to the other side of the bed. He pulls off his trousers and shorts and opens up the duvet to disappear under it. Wei Ying can just see the top of his head with his silky black hair poking out, and a hand emerges briefly to drop his socks on the floor. 

Oh god. Wei Ying takes a moment getting the rest of his clothes off. Going from having his jeans on to being naked in a bed with Lan Zhan feels like almost too significant a before and after moment. Grateful for an impulsivity that always prevents him from dithering, he slips under the covers. 

They lie facing each other in the warm dimness. “How are you doing?” Wei Ying asks him.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says. He doesn’t sound unhappy.

Wei Ying pushes his hand forwards until it meets Lan Zhan’s and he presses the backs of his fingers against his. They don’t speak for a little while. Wei Ying feels like he’s adjusting. 

“How do you feel - about sex?” Lan Zhan says, voice rumbling low. 

1. “Ah -,” Wei Ying tries. 

“Not now,” Lan Zhan says, “in general.” 

“Hmm,” Wei Ying breathes. The truth is, he doesn’t know. “I’ve been with Mingjue since I was eighteen,” he tells him, by way of explanation. “I was in school with his brother.” He’s not sure why this is relevant, but it feels like it is. 

“I don’t - think - I -,” Lan Zhan says, quietly, “associate - sex -, with intimacy,” he manages, eventually. “I feel afraid.” 

“That’s OK,” Wei Ying says, “we can be afraid together.” He can just about make out the shape of Lan Zhan’s face in the dark, the glint of his eyes. 

“Mn,” he says, and Wei Ying threads his fingers through his, bouncing the pads of his fingertips on the pads of Lan Zhan’s fingertips. 

“I feel bad -, you know -, I feel like I should - help,” Wei Ying says. 

Lan Zhan shakes his head and it shifts the duvet. 

Wei Ying wiggles a little closer. “I like it here - with you,” he says. He rests his hand on Lan Zhan’s waist and it’s as if Lan Zhan melts into his touch. His skin is soft and warm. 

“I like -. Can I?” Lan Zhan says, as he moves his hand to Wei Ying’s belly. Wei Ying nods, only gently. He stills in the anticipation of his touch. 

Lan Zhan appears to be taken with the soft hairs that run thickly down from his navel, and his mouth drops open a little as he runs the backs of his long fingers down the trail. Wei Ying thinks, if they’d done this when he was the same age as Lan Zhan, the hair would have been much more sparse. Lan Zhan’s breath feels hot against Wei Ying’s cheeks and he realises he’s close to him now. Wei Ying knows, if he kisses him, he will taste of sex. 

Wei Ying moves closer so that most of the points of their bodies are brushing against each other, Lan Zhan’s hand trapped between them, in a position of great potential. He hums. He kisses the tip of Lan Zhan’s nose, mostly because his brow is a little furrowed in concentration and it amuses him to do so. “What do you normally like to do?” He says. 

Lan Zhan looks him in the eye, one eyeball a little off centre, a squint, and the softness of his face and the very tiny smile make him look like the most beautiful person Wei Ying has ever seen in his life. He shrugs. “I finger myself most mornings,” he says.

“Oh -,” Wei Ying says, actively trying not to dribble. Who says things like that? “Oh - god,” he says, because he can’t help himself. He wonders if he can even remember how to top. “Oh god,” he says, again, when he was sure he meant to say ‘OK’. 

Lan Zhan pulls his hand away and rolls onto his back, stretching out, “but we can do whatever you like,” he says, widening his legs a little and letting his knees fall further onto the bed. 

Hmm. Wei Ying is not sure that Lan Zhan really means what he says. Wei Ying breathes out and it comes out heavier than he was expecting. It’s getting a little hot, so when he props himself on his side on his elbow he pushes down the top of the duvet. It’s a little too bright and so he lets in some air and then pulls it over their heads again. 

“OK,” he says. “Can you -?” Which is probably a both overly polite and insufficiently specific way of asking Lan Zhan to suck his fingers as he lays them against his lips. 

Luckily Lan Zhan seems to understand and Wei Ying gasps in a breath as he pulls them into his mouth. He’s got that sort of powerful tongue and mouth grip that makes Wei Ying a little weak at the knees. 

It’s like riding a bike though and Wei Ying enjoys feeling his way into him, especially since Lan Zhan seems exceedingly comfortable with the whole experience. 

When he’s feeling confident things are going in a good direction, Wei Ying stretches up to kiss him, and Lan Zhan cranes to meet him. He tastes so good. Wei Ying thought all of this would feel unnatural, awkward, but it’s like they just sort of - fit - together. 

While they’re still kissing, tongues twisted, Lan Zhan arches up, pulling off abruptly, and pushes Wei Ying onto his back, shifting the duvet off them and pulling it around his back. “Condom,” he says, clipped and urgent. 

Wei Ying moans, squeezing his forehead with his fingers, until he can get it together enough to point to Nie Mingjue’s bedside drawer. He gives literally zero fucks about what else Lan Zhan finds in there right now. 

Lan Zhan rolls a condom onto him in a distressingly expert manner, and Wei Ying has to do very little as Lan Zhan then organises himself to sink down onto his cock. Wei Ying would like to be able to memorise all of this for posterity but unfortunately his mind is too busy screaming internally behind his face and body. It’s just - oh jesus, fuck -, and - oh god. Also he just can’t get over Lan Zhan’s absolutely massive and beautiful fucking cock standing proud between them. “Oh no ,” Wei Ying whines, “oh - no -,” but his voice is barely a whisper at this point and Lan Zhan is bearing down on him with purpose, and he looks so stern and he puts a large hand over Wei Ying’s mouth, shaking his head at him and oh the lord god in heaven who he absolutely does not remotely believe in but Wei Ying is going to die he’s going to die. And it’s at this moment that Wei Ying can’t understand for the life of him how they are here, together, fucking, when it seemed almost impossible only five minutes ago. 

Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying’s nipple between two fingers and pinches, hard. “Pay, attention ,” he says. And then he smiles. 

It’s a good opportunity for Wei Ying to collect himself, and he puts his hands around Lan Zhan’s waist, and adjusts his angle. It seems - effective. 

When he’s got into a rhythm and - oh god - this rhythm is working, Wei Ying takes Lan Zhan’s dick in hand, to stroke it firmly, and surely, before he’s completely lost himself. 

Lan Zhan leans forward a little and they kiss, sloppily, until Lan Zhan comes, suddenly, unexpectedly, and the pulse and clench of it tips Wei Ying over the edge soon after. 

Lan Zhan gasps into his mouth, and groans, before he presses his forehead into the gap just underneath Wei Ying’s collarbone, grinding it down so that it hurts a little. Wei Ying grabs his head and squeezes it to him, as his dick kicks with aftershocks, still inside Lan Zhan. 

Wei Ying strokes his hair and holds him close to him. He breathes him in and revels in the feel of him on top.  

Shuddering, Lan Zhan pushes away so he’s leaning on his hands above him, then he pulls out and rolls over onto his side, resting his hand on Wei Ying’s still pulsing chest, fingers spread. It’s almost as if he’s tracing the beat of his heart and willing it to calm. Wei Ying’s skin buzzes with the touch. He’s conscious it’s not just for him. It’s not just his heart that’s in this. 

“Huh,” he says, rolling his head towards Lan Zhan. 

“Mmn,” Lan Zhan says.

Yeah. Here they are then. 

Despite himself, and the oddness of the situation, it’s hard for Wei Ying not to lean into the hazy languor of just having had sex with someone he’s wanted since he met him. Wei Ying stretches out and simmers while Lan Zhan plays idly with his nipples. 

“Lan Zhan -,” Wei Ying says, because after a while he’s overwhelmed with the urge to explain to him how he feels. “I -,” and then he pauses when he realises that how he feels can’t really be put into words, because he doesn’t know what it is. It's so new. “I - don’t know,” he says.

Lan Zhan drops his head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. “I know,” he says. 

Wei Ying makes noodles and they feed each other from the pot in the kitchen in their pants. 

They go back up for a second round that lasts longer, and is calmer, quieter. When they finish they lie staring at each other. Wei Ying finds he’s obsessed with how Lan Zhan’s hair falls around his face. He keeps tucking it in different ways behind his ear. 

They’re back in the kitchen drinking iced water when Wei Ying hears Nie Mingjue’s key in the lock. He puts his glass down, guilty. Lan Zhan looks at him, and he knows he needs to signal feeling ok about all of this. Otherwise it’s just not fair. He smiles at him. They’re wearing shorts, both of them, at least, but it’s very obvious what they’ve been doing. Wei Ying represses the urge to sniff himself but he knows he reeks of sex. 

Nie Mingjue clearly wasn’t expecting to find them there somehow. 

“Oh. Hey,” he says. His hair is pulled back and he’s still in his stinky gym clothes. He’s soaked in sweat, and it’s honestly how Wei Ying likes him most. All sort of calm - and competent and - well, muscles. “I should - shower -,” he says. 

“No,” Wei Ying gets up, “I’ll get you some food.”

He heats up the remains of the noodles and Mingjue sits at the table with Lan Zhan, and they talk quietly about his gym routine. It turns out Lan Zhan has one hell of a physical training schedule and Mingjue is clearly fascinated to hear about it. Wei Ying hasn’t seen him this absorbed in an age. He rubs his back as he hands him the noodles. 

He goes up to grab a couple of T-shirts for Lan Zhan and for him, and they end up watching Jaws on the sofa. Wei Ying puts his feet up and snuggles close to Mingjue, needing his warmth and massiveness for a sense of security. He breathes in his post gym smells. On the other side, Lan Zhan sits more gracefully, but Nie Mingjue has his arm around him, and Lan Zhan has his hand on Nie Mingjue’s thigh. They haven’t had to discuss anything and it just sort of - works. Wei Ying allows himself a moment of pleasure - a moment of hope, that this could work. It could really work. 

Lan Zhan preempts any questions about whether he’ll stay by taking himself off relatively early. He has two shows on a Tuesday and he says it’s best for him to get an early night at home. 

Things feel a little weirder with Mingjue once he’s gone. He goes off for a shower, and Wei Ying hot foots it upstairs to change the sheets. Earlier he’d been sort of taken with the notion he’d feel kind of nice about sleeping in them, but now it just feels wrong. 

Mingjue doesn’t say anything about it when he comes to bed, and they just sleep. 

---

When it comes down to it, it’s a deeply fucking odd relationship because Wei Ying and Nie Mingjue have known each other forever - grown up together even - and neither of them know Lan Zhan really at all. It’s as if he’s come from outer space. And then he’s only free to see them properly once a week. 

Lan Zhan is not so well known that he’s recognised or hassled very much when he’s out and about, especially in a busy and celebrity filled capital like London, but he still has to be relatively cautious about what he can and cannot do in public. 

They could continue their cultural activities in order to have three-way ‘dates’, but what Wei Ying would really like to do is sit at the back of the cinema and have them all kiss in the dark. And they can’t do that. Wei Ying is aware that his desire to be a little handsy on dates in public is directly related to his fear and avoidance of intimacy between the three of them in private. He’s still just not sure if he can do it. 

Aside from the relatively chaste dating side of things, there is another significant milestone for them still to cross, and it doesn’t involve Wei Ying. 

Nie Mingjue is going to see Lan Zhan perform on Sunday evening, and he’s going to go home with him after. Wei Ying doesn’t love the echo of he and Lan Zhan’s disastrous night, but it makes the most sense and Wei Ying really wants it to be over with. 

Wei Ying’s body is wracked with nerves which Nie Mingjue seems to pick up. 

“You sure you’re all right with this, babe?” He says. “I really don’t have to do this.” 

Wei Ying nods and waves his hand, “of course,” he says, as brightly as he can manage. It just isn’t fair for him to be openly weird about this. About them together. It isn’t fair. But it hurts. It actually hurts him inside to think about it. It’s painful. 

He’s deliberately taken a late shift at work on Sunday, but he can’t stop the images coming, and he ends up feeling so physically unwell he has to go home. Nie Huaisang insists. “You’ll frighten off the customers,” he says.

Wei Ying truly doesn’t think he’s ever felt this bad in his life and so he complies. At home he lies in a darkened room because it’s about all he can do. He sleeps fitfully, and wakes in the small hours, gets up to watch TV. 

He can’t focus on chores on Monday and he can’t eat, and the time ticks on and on. He has to stop himself from messaging either of them several times an hour. He tries Cordelia Delaneuve but even she can’t help him, because it just reminds him of Lan Zhan. 

Just when Wei Ying thinks it can’t get any worse, he gets a message from Nie Mingjue. Is it ok if I stay over tonight as well? It says. I will come straight home if it’s a no . 

Wei Ying’s stomach takes such a nosedive he has to gasp for air, and sit down on the floor. He’s trying to figure out how on earth to respond when Nie Mingjue messages again. We miss you , he says. 

Wei Ying allows himself to tip over and curls up on the floor, holding onto his knees. “Mmmmnnnnnn,” he says to himself, trying to squeeze his muscles even more tightly so he gets something in the way of release of tension when he lets go, but it doesn’t seem to help much. He has to send a casual, happy reply. He has to. 

np say hi to lan zhan , he types, eventually. It takes a couple of tries. 

When he manages to release himself from his regression ball, he takes a bottle of vodka they’ve had in the freezer for about three years so in all likelihood, Nie Mingjue won’t remember it was ever there, and he makes his way deep into it, watching reality TV with the volume cranked up, before he passes out on the sofa. 

He’s very much not fine when he wakes at about five o’clock, but it’s ok, Nie Mingjue will head straight to work from Lan Zhan’s anyway. Wei Ying pieces himself together slowly over the course of the morning and manages to drag himself to work. 

He and Huaisang quickly discover that he can’t be around beer smells so Huaisang banishes him to their tiny office and periodically brings him salted products, litres of water and a strategic coffee when Wei Ying is more confident it won’t come back up again. 

“I feel like you’re not handling this new - arrangement as successfully as you’d like,” Huaisang says to him later in the day, when he’s feeling a bit more human. 

“I’m fine,” Wei Ying tells him. “I’m just adjusting and don’t you dare tell your brother,” which has been his refrain for the day.

“Oh please,” Huaisang says, “I’ve got far better things to do with my time than gossip about your dreadfully boring and unsuccessful romantic attachments.” 

Wei Ying nods. Then realises he isn’t ready to nod yet. He grips his head between his hands.

“Apart from anything else I find it embarrassing for you.” Huaisang says. 

Wei Ying wants to laugh even though it feels like his head is going to melt at the same time as his insides erupt out of him. 

“ You need to talk to him , though, Wei Ying,” Huaisang says. 

Wei Ying looks up at him and he raises his palm in the air. “But -,” he tries. 

“I’m only going to say it the once. I know you know it’s true,” he says. 

Wei Ying allows his forehead to drift to the desk, where he allows it to rest. “Things are - odd - between us,” he tells the desk, quietly. 

“I’d like to say I’m surprised,” Huaisang says. 

“It’s like - I want to talk to him about Lan Zhan. It’s been that way since I met him. I just want to - you know - talk about him all the time. But I think we both feel like it’s not fair of us to do that when he’s not there - you know?” 

“Not really,” Huaisang says. 

“And it’s just like - the whole consummation thing -.”

“Are you trying to say sex?”

“Why can’t people just do unconsummated polyamory? Like, why isn’t that a thing?” Wei Ying lifts his head up for emphasis because he thinks he may have hit upon something really important.

“I mean - it is a thi -.”

“Like, why can’t people just be repressed about things, you know?” Wei Ying is really onto something here. “Everyone used to be just fine with repression and now it’s all like ‘ooo let’s talk about all the feelings we have whenever we have them ’, and like - touch each other and stuff.” 

“Not to throw a spanner in the works, Wei Ying,” Huaisang says, raising an eyebrow, “because you really seem to have got yourself going here - but arguably you are the main reason why my brother is not repressed and I think ultimately that’s - you know - been a good thing given his blood pressure apart from anything else.” 

Wei Ying’s looking at Huaisang and he’s sure the words are coming into his brain somewhere but it’s just not adding up at the moment. “I just liked it before , you know?”

“Hmm,” Huaisang says. “When you say liked it , what do you mean? Conducting a secret imaginary, separate affair while still in a comfortably secure relationship that isn’t fulfilling all of either of your needs - or Lan Wangji’s. Or something more - specific?” 

Wei Ying is unhappy with his attitude, “mememeehhhh specific,” he says, doing air quotes and imitating Huaisang’s tone. Completely accurately he’s sure.  

Huaisang raises his eyebrows at him. “Even people with the lowest intelligence and morality can understand the concept of how having your cake and eating it isn’t possible, Wei Ying. You don’t want to see it because you want it and you know you can’t handle it.” 

“Well now you’re just being polyamory - uh - ist . Polyamoryist,” he’s sure that’s a word. “People cope fine.”

“Yes. People darling. Just not you - or not people who want to have two separate relationships but not at the same time, in general. Specifically those people can’t handle it. Which includes you.”

“Well,” Wei Ying folds his arms, and a wave of nausea passes through him. He squeezes his lips together tightly and breathes. “You actually don’t actually know what I want,” he says. 

Huaisang drums his fingers on the desktop. “I’m sure you’re right,” he says. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Wei Ying says, curtly, “I need to be on my own for a while.” He tries to walk towards the bathroom with as much dignity as he can muster. 

---

When he gets home he can’t find Mingjue immediately and his heart immediately starts racing. “Babe?” He calls, forcing his voice to sound casual, and controlled. He doesn’t get a reply and searches around the house until some unfamiliar noises lead him to the box room. They’d fully intended to deck it out as a mini-office but inevitably it’s covered in Wei Ying’s books and boxes of shit, and Nie Mingjue’s equipment. He has his back to Wei Ying, and Wei Ying can hear tinny noise emerging from his headphones as he’s doing fast bicep curls. 

Wei Ying is about to withdraw and leave him to it, when Nie Mingjue turns around and does a double take. He looks pleased at least. He thunks the weights to the desk and pulls off his headphones. “Hey beautiful,” he says. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Wei Ying gestures to the weights and raises his eyebrows. 

Mingjue shrugs, “I missed my session yesterday - needed to catch up.” 

Oh OK. They must have really got into it then. “OK,” Wei Ying says. 

Nie Mingjue puts a hand on his shoulder and Wei Ying hates how stabilising it feels. “Are you OK, hon?” He says. “Huaisang said you were really hungover today.” 

Wei Ying scoffs in indication of his shocked denial. When did Huaisang even have time -? “Nonsense,” he says. “Maybe I got a little carried away - I was just having too much fun on my own with the house to myself. And by coincidence I happen to have a small tummy upset. The two things were completely unrelated.” 

“O - K -,” Mingjue says, the effort of not sounding sceptical leaking out of his pores. “Well. Just so you know, I’m sorry I stayed away an extra night. I don’t think it was the - right - decision. For you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Wei Ying waves his hand. “Barely noticed,” he says. “How was it?” He can’t not ask. 

Nie Mingjue nods, small smile playing on his lips. “Fine,” he says. “Just fine.”

“Well -,” Wei Ying says. “I’m tired, so I’m hitting the sack.” 

“OK sweetheart,” Nie Mingjue says, squeezing his shoulder firmly. Wei Ying doesn’t think he’s ever hurled so many different terms of endearment at him in one sitting. “I’m going to carry on here for a bit -,” he says, gesturing to the equipment around him. 

Wei Ying turns the lights out and lies staring into space under the duvet, unsleeping. When Nie Mingjue comes in he doesn’t turn the light on and Wei Ying closes his eyes immediately. 

It isn’t an effective indicator of sleep, apparently. Or a talking deterrent. “I wanted you to be there as well,” Mingjue says, as he nestles in heavily next to him. “Just so you know.” 

“Mmnnph,” Wei Ying says. He doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Chapter Text

Wei Ying doesn’t have any messages from Lan Zhan anymore. He misses them terribly. He pines for them in fact. He keeps lifting his phone to message him about something Cordelia related and then - the words don’t come. 

Nie Mingjue is handsy with him as soon as he gets home from work on Friday and Wei Ying has to practically bat him off while he’s cooking. 

“I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue says, “I keep thinking about the two of you together, and it’s driving me insane,” he says, sliding his hand down Wei Ying’s belly and pressing his crotch. It’s making Wei Ying hot and bothered, although thinking about Nie Mingjue and Lan Zhan has also been driving him insane - just mostly in a bad way. 

“OK,” Wei Ying says, turning around and pushing against his chest. “Fine.” He doesn’t want to think anymore and he has no appetite, and he wants to fuck. 

He switches off the hob and pushes Nie Mingjue until he turns to head up the stairs. They manage to get their clothes off on the way up, snatching hard, rough kisses all the way. 

Wei Ying has kind of a weird moment where he almost asks Nie Mingjue if he can top, and the thrill of all the revived opportunities, now he’s been with someone else, flicker rapidly through his mind. But Nie Mingjue lifts him up and throws him on the bed and he’s mad with lust, reaching between his legs to open himself up with spit, as Nie Mingjue leans over him to get the lube out of his drawer.

Only he doesn’t get lube. He gets a condom. 

Wei Ying suddenly feels a cold hollow burrowing into his chest. He puts his hand out and sits up slowly. “Hang on,” he says. 

Nie Mingjue kneels next to him. He rubs the outside of Wei Ying’s knee, and Wei Ying loves his massiveness, so close. He’s waiting so patiently, Wei Ying can feel his happiness. But he just - he - can’t -.

Wei Ying swallows, starts to lie back slowly, forcing a smile on his face. He opens his legs wider. He maybe can’t - do it himself now - but Mingjue could. Nie Mingjue presses his fist into the bed as he leans over him. But then - Wei Ying’s breath hitches in a way he knows is the point of no return, and he finds he can’t stem the flow of his tears at all.

“Sorry,” he gasps, sitting again gingerly, thinking, oddly, of the workout to his core. 

Nie Mingjue kneels back, sitting on his ankles, looking utterly dismayed. “Wei - Ying -?” He says. 

“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying sobs - tears have taken him over now. “I’m so sorry.” 

It takes Nie Mingjue a beat, but he seems to recover himself and moves forward to take Wei Ying into his arms and squeeze him tight. Wei Ying shifts to get more comfortable, more stable, and Mingjue rocks him a little from side to side. 

“Babe,” Mingjue says, “angel,” he strokes his head. “What’s wrong?” 

“I know -,” Wei Ying gasps, “- we need to use condoms - now,” he hiccoughs, “but I don’t want to.” He buries his head deeper into Nie Mingjue. He doesn’t want to be crying. He doesn’t want to be saying these - pathetic things. He just can’t stop. 

Nie Mingjue rubs his back, shushes him a little, which is probably for the best. 

Now Wei Ying’s got the main thing out, he feels a bit of relief, and he can feel the tears becoming less overpowering. 

Nie Mingjue kisses him on the head and pushes him back a little, uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe his tears away from under his eyes. “It only has to be temporary,” he says. “Well. Maybe? We can talk to Lan Zhan.” He pauses, trying to catch Wei Ying’s eyes as he studiously tries to avoid it. “This doesn’t have to be a thing -,” he says. 

Wei Ying sniffs, and wipes his nose, hard. “I know you like the idea of - us - together,” he says, and has to pull in a sharp breath. “I’m not - good - like you,” he says. “I -,” he swallows, “I hate it,” he says. Tears start to leak out of his eyes again, down his nostrils. “I hate the idea of you and him,” he whispers. 

“Oh babe,” Nie Mingjue says, a bit as if Wei Ying has just told him he’s dropped his ice cream on the floor, and Wei Ying remembers how he loves and hates Nie Mingjue’s ability to let events just bounce off him in equal measure. “It’s just an - adjustment.” 

Wei Ying sniffs, looks up. It does kind of make sense. It is an adjustment. 

He nods hopefully at Nie Mingjue, and Nie Mingjue smiles back at him, kindly.

That’s right. It’s probably just something he needs to get used to. He’s forever making things more tragic than they need to be. He knows he does that. 

“You be with him this week,” Nie Mingjue says, rubbing his back in circles. “You know - maybe the two of you should talk through the three of us being - you know - together -?” 

“Hmm,” Wei Ying says, feeling unsure.

Nie Mingjue raises his hands, palms out. “No pressure - there never will be,” he says. “I just think - an obvious solution to feeling funny when you’re not there, is to - you know - be there.” 

Wei Ying nods, slowly, it does make sense. 

Nie Mingjue returns to rubbing his back. His hand is so strong it shifts Wei Ying where he’s sitting and he loves it. He feels weirdly like he wants to purr. 

They stay like this for a little, then Nie Mingjue takes his hand away and holds Wei Ying’s face. “I love you,” he says, kissing his nose. “You - want -?” He says, brandishing the condom. 

Wei Ying shakes his head. “Is it OK if we just cuddle?” 

Nie Mingjue slaps him a couple of times on the knee. “Of course,” he says. He shifts off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Wei Ying asks, trying not to sound needy, or whiny.

“Just need to have a bit of a wank first,” Nie Mingjue tells him, in his kind voice. 

---

Wei Ying ends up having a really brief message conversation with Lan Zhan in the end.

Wat we doign Monday he asks. 

Just come straight to mine, please Lan Zhan replies. 

Lan Zhan answers the door naked and they don’t get any further than the hallway. Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying’s face in his hands and stares at him intently. Wei Ying almost starts speaking but instead he chooses kisses. Lan Zhan pushes his tongue in insistently, immediately and sucks hard on Wei Ying’s. He’s honestly just such a freak and Wei Ying loves it. He’s shivering with want as Lan Zhan takes his clothes off. He keeps staring at Wei Ying as if he wants to eat him. “I need you in me,” Lan Zhan says quietly, into his ear, breath hot against his skin. 

They move slowly down to the floor together and the tiles are cold against Wei Ying’s butt. Lan Zhan wastes no time getting a condom on him, and moves himself onto his cock, expertly, fully prepped. It’s maybe, oooh, two minutes? Since he opened the door. 

“Oh christ,” Wei Ying winces, bending forwards, as Lan Zhan isn’t gentle getting seated on him. Wei Ying grips his waist tightly, digging in his fingernails, and Lan Zhan sucks in a hiss of pleasure. 

Lan Zhan pushes him back with his hand on his chest and presses down on his thighs as he rides him. He’s spectacular. 

When Wei Ying thinks he might be close to coming, he moves his shaky hands away from where they feel glued to Lan Zhan’s waist, and claws them up his chest, trying to get purchase on his shoulders to pull him down. He wants Lan Zhan to look him properly in the eye as they come. He needs it. Lan Zhan bends over and looks down at him, brown eyes deep and vulnerable. He bites his lip. “Wei Ying -,” he whispers. 

“Fuuuuuck,” Wei Ying breathes heavily as he pulses over and over, deep in Lan Zhan, and feels him spill between them. “Lan Zhan,” he breathes, gripping the back of his neck now, the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close to him, as close as he can come, “Lan Zhan.” 

Lan Zhan laughs, as he pulls himself off and sits on his haunches, breathless.

He takes Wei Ying up to his bedroom, which he recognises from the first picture Lan Zhan ever sent him. It’s serene, quiet. Bright with watery autumn sunshine. 

They kiss, slowly on the bed, on top of the covers, and Wei Ying feels like he’s finally able to explore Lan Zhan properly, largely by touch, but when he finds he traces the odd scar, or mole, he leans up to get a closer look, pausing to put his mouth on it. Lan Zhan buries his head in his neck when he does this, when his neck is within burying distance. 

Wei Ying spends quite a long time with a long thin scar on Lan Zhan’s inner thigh - apparently the result of a vicious stray cat attack that baby Lan Zhan was trying to pet, until it becomes abundantly clear they are both very much ready to go again. 

This time Lan Zhan kneels on all fours on the bed and Wei Ying fucks into him from behind. He leans over to kiss his neck, and as he does it, he slips his fingers over to feel Lan Zhan’s plump lips. Lan Zhan sucks his fingers, bites them. 

They lie on their backs, staring at the ceiling, chests thumping, when they’ve finished. 

Wei Ying turns onto his side to study Lan Zhan carefully, and he runs a finger from his belly to his neck, as slowly as he can across his smooth skin. He watches as tiny goosebumps prickle and dissipate under his touch. 

Lan Zhan rolls on his side to face him. He seems kind of shy about it. Wei Ying smiles at him, strokes his arm. 

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Don’t be silly,” Wei Ying says. And “I missed you, a lot .” He doesn’t mean to say it, but it just kind of comes out anyway. 

“Oh -,” Lan Zhan says. He looks crestfallen.

“Sorry,” Wei Ying says. 

“No -,” Lan Zhan says, then seems to get stuck. 

“It’s not your -,” Wei Ying says, honestly just trying to rescue him, but he speaks at exactly the same time.

“It just - felt -,” he says, and stops.

“No,” Wei Ying tells him, “you go.” 

“It just felt weird - messaging you - just me and you - without Nie Mingjue. I didn’t think you’d like it.”

Wei Ying shakes his head. He feels desperately sad, but he knows he shouldn’t. He makes himself smile. “No I know,” he says, lightly. “How did it go with him?”

Lan Zhan rolls onto his back and looks back up at the ceiling. “Good,” he says. He shrugs. “Easy.” 

“Easy,” Wei Ying repeats, puzzling a little at the word. Wei Ying is pretty much anything but easy. He knows he’s struggled to keep the disappointment out of his voice. 

“Yes. You’re more -,” Lan Zhan starts.

Wei Ying waits, but nothing seems to be forthcoming. 

“It’s more -,” Lan Zhan tries again, but still no joy. He looks pained. 

Wei Ying tries to hide the fact that his heart is sinking rapidly. Without knowing it, Lan Zhan has got straight to the crux of Wei Ying’s biggest fear. By trying to have both of them - the men he loves -, he’s coming dangerously close to losing both of them to each other, and he can't let it happen. His heart thudding, he sits up and crosses his legs.

“Nie Mingjue thinks we should have sex - altogether, like,” he says it as matter of factly as possible. Lan Zhan should love the idea, since he loves Nie Mingjue so fucking much. 

“Oh,” Lan Zhan says. He sounds weird. He’s maybe pissed off about being interrupted mid-flow, but Wei Ying wasn’t exactly going to sit around and wait for him to explain just exactly why it’s so much fucking easier with Nie Mingjue. “OK,” he says. Just like that. He threads his fingers together and lies them on his belly, looks down at them.

“Oh, OK,” Wei Ying says. 

“Wei Ying -,” Lan Zhan says. 

“No. It’s just - I mean - is it something you’ve done a lot?” Wei Ying says. “It sounds like you don’t have to think much about it.”

“No, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, firmly, turning onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow to look at him. He looks quite annoyed now. “I told you.”

Wei Ying searches his mind for things Lan Zhan might have ever said about threesomes and finds he’s drawing a complete blank. He looks back at Lan Zhan but there’s nothing to suggest an even vague lack of confidence that Wei Ying won’t know exactly what he’s talking about. 

“Uh -,” Wei Ying says.

“I told you sex wasn’t about intimacy for me -,” Lan Zhan says, obviously irritated now, “before.”

It feels like quite the non-sequitur and Wei Ying has no clue what his point is.

“I trust him because I trust you, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan tells him.

Well, OK, that at least sounds vaguely complimentary. 

“I just need to see if it can work,” Wei Ying says. “I think I’m struggling a little with - jealousy - issues ,” he says. 

“OK, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, putting his hand on his thigh and squeezing it. “Whatever you need.” He, oddly, seems a little relieved. 

Wei Ying doesn’t end up staying over. He feels like he needs to get home and talk about it properly with Nie Mingjue. But, his conversation with Lan Zhan plays on his mind all the way home. 

He thinks about how Nie Mingjue - Lan Zhan even - are having to assuage him, to calm him. Because he’s all angsty and tense. And they’re both so relaxed and chill about everything. Just - happy to be there with each other. Wei Ying is the complicated one, making everything difficult. Making everything annoying and less fun. 

Whatever you need . Lan Zhan’s voice echoes in his head over and over. Whatever you need . Soon Nie Mingjue’s voice threads through, joining in. It’s just an adjustment , imaginary Nie Mingjue tells him, admonishing. They’re both having to manage him because he can’t stop being an idiot child. 

I hope you’re all right , Lan Zhan messages him, just before he gets through the door. 

Wei Ying can’t think of what to text him back. 

Nie Mingjue isn’t there. By the time he gets home, Wei Ying is absorbed in a stupid movie that’s at least mentally occupying, and he cannot be arsed to try and talk about anything.

“Oh,” Mingjue says, clearly surprised to see him, “I thought you’d stay over.” 

Wei Ying turns his head to look at him. “I have to work early tomorrow,” he says, and goes back to his film. 

He lets Mingjue make his own dinner. He’s not hungry. 

---

“I think I’ve got myself into a bind,” Wei Ying tells Huaisang, while they’re having a beer together after work. 

“Literally or figuratively?” he asks. 

“Fuck off,” Wei Ying says. He sighs performatively. It was probably too much to hope for some sympathy. 

“What are you going to do?” Huaisang says. 

Wei Ying picks at the corner of the label on his bottle, where it’s peeling with the sweat. He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. He takes a swig. “Carry on for now I suppose.” 

---

Wei Ying soon comes to the conclusion that, to maintain his sanity, he will need to have a threesome. He’s aware that his main motivation, apart from curiosity, is to prevent Nie Mingjue and Lan Zhan from being together alone again. He’s also aware that this is not a good motivation for any relationship choices.

He doesn’t care, he’s just living moment to moment for now, “let’s do it,” he tells Mingjue.

They talk details together over dinner - possibilities. Wei Ying knows he’s going to be up in his head, and so he makes sure he prepares food and tidies up so he’s got a reason to be quieter than usual. But it’s not as bad as he expects. There seems to be no debate around his central position, and he’s not going to suggest anything different. He’s once again astonished by how calm everyone seems about it. 

Upstairs Wei Ying is the last to have a wash, and he has to give himself a stern pep talk. What people would give to be in the position he is right now, he tells himself. It’s true. Squashed between two gods and thoroughly undeserving. It really isn’t something to have a meltdown about. He should be celebrating on behalf of all weasley, nervy, sugar dependent adoptees the world over. It helps.

When he emerges from the bathroom, towel clutched in front of him, Lan Zhan is standing the other side of the bed, looking at him, arm behind his back, and Nie Mingjue is by the window, arms crossed. They’re both naked. 

Oh god. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says, as if it’s a business meeting and he’s giving a presentation.

Nie Mingjue laughs. “Come here,” he says.

Wei Ying chucks his towel on the bed and goes to him, wanting his comfort more than anything else. Nie Mingjue holds his neck. Lan Zhan comes to them, and puts his hand on Nie Mingjue’s waist. Nie Mingjue leans in to kiss Wei Ying deeply, gripping his neck tightly, and Wei Ying’s brain floods with softening chemicals. He reaches out for Lan Zhan’s spare hand, and he responds quickly by squeezing his hand in his. 

Nie Mingjue pulls off to kiss Lan Zhan and Wei Ying feels the natural thing to do is to attend to Lan Zhan’s cock, taking it in his hand to stroke him, firmly, slowly. They move closer to one another so Lan Zhan can take Nie Mingjue in hand and Nie Mingjue, Wei Ying. It feels good. Wei Ying is suffused with such warmth he can’t believe he ever doubted this was a good idea. Lan Zhan leans in to kiss him with lazy satisfaction, and he sighs into his mouth. 

They take turns kissing, holding onto each other’s arms and stroking each other. Wei Ying finds he can tolerate watching the two of them. It’s OK because he feels so strongly about them both. It's fine, it's good. It starts to get just a little too hot and Lan Zhan pushes him on the arm so he must be feeling the same. 

Wei Ying squeezes Nie Mingjue’s bicep and Nie Mingjue pulls off Lan Zhan at the same time Wei Ying lets go of him. 

“OK,” Nie Mingjue says, breathing heavily. 

“Urrgh,” is all Wei Ying can manage as he leans forwards. 

Lan Zhan leans his head briefly on Nie Mingjue’s shoulder as he releases him, and Nie Mingjue puts his hand around the back of his neck and squeezes gently. 

“Is this OK?” Nie Mingjue says, and it’s not obvious who to. “I think this is OK,” he breathes, to himself. He pulls at Lan Zhan gently, as if he’s lifting him up by the scruff, and nods imperiously at the bed. 

Wei Ying feels lust pull deep in his lower belly watching Lan Zhan immediately obey. He feels a little like he made him do it himself. 

Lan Zhan lies back on the bed, pulling his legs up, planting his feet either side of him, and arches back as he begins to finger himself. 

Wei Ying watches as he moans and his knees begin to quiver. “Oh, fuck,” he says. It’s involuntary. 

He’s distracted by Nie Mingjue manhandling him perfectly to stand in front of Lan Zhan. He presses on Wei Ying’s back and he leans forwards as Nie Mingjue kneels down to part his cheeks. “Oh my word,” he says, hearing the strain in his own voice as Nie Mingjue begins to lick and finger him open.

Lan Zhan cranes his neck to watch between his legs, and Wei Ying reaches out to grip one of his ankles with his hand as he gasps. “Jeeeeeesus,” he says. 

Nie Mingjue stands and pushes him forwards, up against the bed, and Wei Ying bends over, chest pressing against Lan Zhan’s hand as he still fingers himself, his knees caging Wei Ying, as Nie Mingjue pushes himself in, moaning low in his throat. Wei Ying is still clinging onto Lan Zhan’s leg for support. 

Wei Ying’s breath catches and he straightens up as much as he can, pressing back against Mingjue until he bottoms out, leaning over him. He needs a moment to breathe, and Nie Mingjue squeezes his waist. Wei Ying leans his cheek back on his shoulder to signal his readiness and Nie Mingjue starts to fuck him slowly. 

When Wei Ying turns his head forwards again, Lan Zhan is sitting up close to him. He puts a hand to the other side of Wei Ying’s waist and he leans up to kiss him, only lightly, on the mouth. He leans back on his elbows to watch, and Wei Ying sees him catch Nie Mingjue’s eye behind him, and smile. A little quirk of his lips. 

Lan Zhan wriggles into a position to be ready for Wei Ying, and he’s looking at Nie Mingjue so intently that Wei Ying feels himself beginning, unbelievably, to flag. Shit, shit, shit. “Lan Zhan,” he says. 

It’s the right thing to have done. As soon as Lan Zhan’s attention is back on Wei Ying, he can connect again. He takes deep breaths. Lan Zhan seems to sense he needs help, and he sits up to tend to Wei Ying’s dick, stroking him once again to hardness as he kisses him deeply. 

Wei Ying loses himself to the double stimulation for a while. Nie Mingjue slows a little, and Wei Ying knows he must want to extend his time in him, so he pushes Lan Zhan off gently, and leans over so he can line himself up to enter him comfortably. Lan Zhan pulls some pillows under his butt to give him a better angle and Nie Mingjue holds Wei Ying tightly - so tightly - around his upper arms as he makes his way into Lan Zhan. The feeling is of an intensity Wei Ying has never experienced and he’s not sure he can handle it. He almost thinks he’s going to tip over the edge when he’s fully in, but he reaches behind him to grab Mingjue’s thigh, squeezing hard to still him, - not that he’s moving much anyway -, and does the same with Lan Zhan’s arm in front of him. He takes slow, deep breaths, closing his eyes and trying to remove himself mentally for just a moment. “Oh, man,” he whimpers. 

Nie Mingjue presses a kiss onto Wei Ying’s back and it helps, it grounds him. Slowly, he releases his hold on Lan Zhan, and on Nie Mingjue, and they begin to move together, slowly, taking a while to settle into a happy rhythm that seems to work for everyone. 

Wei Ying can feel Lan Zhan’s cock rubbing against his stomach and he swallows. He has to remind himself to breathe. It feels almost as if he might puke from the potency of the sensations throughout his body, but slowly, slowly, he settles into it enough that he can focus more on Lan Zhan. 

This whole - arrangement - appears to be working well for Lan Zhan. He’s lying back with his upper arm over his face, and Wei Ying becomes aware that the low rumble of moans he can hear is coming from him. His grip on Wei Ying’s waist is loose, and he looks beautiful underneath him. 

When Lan Zhan looks up at him, it’s more difficult, because his gaze is clearly for them both, and Wei Ying wants it just to be for him. 

It’s a short lived pang of distress, because Nie Mingjue lets go of one side of Wei Ying’s waist to clasp Lan Zhan’s hand in his, and the increase in pressure on Wei Ying pushes him over the edge. He releases in hot spurts into the condom, and he clenches hard on Nie Mingjue inside him, who responds immediately by coming as well. It’s too much and Wei Ying can’t stop himself, he yells louder than he thinks he’s ever yelled in his life. He lets his weight fall onto Lan Zhan, feeling a wet heat between them that he thinks dimly must mean Lan Zhan has come as well, as Nie Mingjue pulls out of him and collapses heavily onto the bed beside them. 

Lan Zhan laughs, and runs his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair, which sets his scalp tingling, and eventually he feels he can muster enough energy to roll to the other side of Lan Zhan. Heart still going fast, he lies on his side to face him, and spreads his hand over his belly, partly to check he’s come and he absolutely has, like, a lot. Wei Ying groans, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He opens them to discover Lan Zhan has turned towards him, and is looking at him intently. He smiles at him, and watches as Nie Mingjue’s hand slides over his waist as he presses himself close behind Lan Zhan. Wei Ying takes Nie Mingjue’s fingers, threading them through his and squeezing, as he leans towards Lan Zhan to kiss him. 

They lie together like this, for what feels like a little while. Wei Ying is imbued with a post coital calm, that eases his busy brain. He feels happy. 

Eventually Nie Mingjue gets up to bring some water from the kitchen and they all shower separately. When Lan Zhan’s using the bathroom, Nie Mingjue tucks a strand of hair behind Wei Ying’s ear.

“You OK, baby?” He says, quietly. 

Wei Ying nods. 

“Should we see if Lan Zhan wants to stay over?” He says. 

Wei Ying nods again. He wants him to. 

Wei Ying inevitably overheats in the night, between the two of them, and he quietly hops over Lan Zhan to go downstairs for some air, feeling a little incredulous Lan Zhan is managing to sleep through Mingjue’s snores. 

He stays away longer than he means to, because his brain keeps tripping on the image of Lan Zhan looking over his shoulder, into Nie Mingjue’s eyes. It’s probably nothing. Something he’ll easily get over. An adjustment, like Nie Mingjue says. Before he gets back into bed he stares at the pair of them. Lan Zhan’s made his way over to Nie Mingjue, and is close up against him. His arm is over his waist and Nie Mingjue’s hand rests loosely on Lan Zhan’s over the duvet. They’re clearly both fast asleep, but Nie Mingjue’s no longer snoring. They look like they belong together. 

Wei Ying lifts the cover and curls away from them both, stomach clenched. He sleeps badly. 

He’s half forgotten his stress in the morning when he wakes up, groggy, to movements in the bed. Everyone seems happy enough, if sleepy, but they quickly go their separate ways to work, and Lan Zhan to an early pilates class. 

But the image of Lan Zhan and Nie Mingjue together, and particularly of Lan Zhan staring past Wei Ying into Nie Mingjue’s eyes, does not stop playing through his mind no matter how hard he tries to get rid of it. If anything it gets progressively more frequent over the week. Even worse, each image sends him into a spiral about how he is a complicating factor in a true love pairing. How their obligation to him is preventing them from just being together, where it’s simple and perfect. 

Two days following their Monday together and he finds he’s realised, in fact, that he’s a spare wheel. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to justify his existence within the relationship. He’s just not ready to face up to it - to talk about it. He needs time to process. 

Fortunately work is busy, and Wei Ying can always make it busier if he tries hard enough. On top of Nie Mingjue’s fitness commitments, it's perfect for avoidance tactics. They simply don’t have enough time together for Nie Mingjue to work out something is up - or to have conversations beyond the basics.

What he can’t avoid is Nie Mingjue initiating sex. 

After two vaguely physical excuses, Wei Ying runs out of stalling and has to think of a general rule. “I’m so sorry,” he tells Mingjue. “I can’t get past the condom thing and I don’t know why.” He would also like to stop talking about it immediately, thank you, but he can’t say that.

“I know,” Nie Mingjue says. “Can’t you talk to Lan Zhan about it?” 

Wei Ying sits up, “I’m sorry, what do you mean?”

“Can’t he - like - get tested or something then we don’t have to worry about it?” Nie Mingjue says. He’s still lying under the duvet, apparently not in a hurry to get up, even though they really do need to get on. And not have sex. 

“No I know what you meant,” Wei Ying says, “I thought this might be the sort of thing we’d talk about together?” 

“It’s just easier if you tell him. If we can only see him once a week, it seems a shame to waste a week when you can just phone him about it.” He turns his head towards Wei Ying. “This is your thing, babe “

Wei Ying bites his lip. He feels like this is somehow getting to the crux of what is fundamental to a lot of his concerns, but he can’t seem to formulate it properly right now - when his primary aim is to get out of bed without having to have sex or an awkward conversation. “Um - OK?” He says. “Maybe -?”

“And -,” Nie Mingjue says, shifting out of bed, which is progress, “we should ask him when the play finishes and what his plans are, shouldn’t we? I think he said it was soon.” 

“So -,” Wei Ying says, throwing back the covers, “but when you say we - do you mean you want me to ask him?” 

Nie Mingjue’s already at the bathroom door. “Thanks babe,” he says, and closes it behind him. 

Wei Ying sits back in bed. Huh. 

He genuinely does try to speak to Lan Zhan about it. Even though they don’t really message any longer, which has been absolutely killing him inside. Every time something funny and random happens - or maybe he just catches a beautiful light, all he wants to do is tell Lan Zhan about it. But now he has to message about a much more substantial matter it feels almost impossible. And it feels transgressive, no matter what Nie Mingjue says. This is about the three of them - it’s not just about him and Lan Zhan. 

Can we arrange a phonecall he texts.

Is something wrong? Lan Zhan responds, immediately. Wei Ying can’t think what’s got up his arse, it wasn’t that much of a serious message.

no , he texts. Then he tries out all sorts of explanations, descriptions, over the course of the day and just can’t come up with anything. nvr mind spak soon , he sends, the next morning. 

The whole sorry interaction has made two things painfully apparent, somehow. The first is that he yearns, desperately, to be back just messaging with Lan Zhan. The two of them - in their private universe. And the second is that he absolutely cannot be - with - the three of them together again. He has no idea why the second is true - none - but he knows it with his heart and he knows it with his body. 

Close to panic the next Monday morning, he goes into the toilet first thing and finds he can’t come out for the next hour because every time he tries to get up off the floor he feels like he's going to fall down again. Nie Mingjue knocks a couple of times to see if he’s OK and he gives him a curt answer. 

He knows he’s going to have to come out eventually. He knows he’s going to have to explain all of this, which is really fucking difficult given he can’t even vaguely begin to account for any of it himself. He can’t even tell Mingjue that he didn’t talk to Lan Zhan about the condom thing. 

He stands and leans over the sink, pressing down hard with the palms of his hands, psyching himself up to go out and talk about things , like a man . Well - actually - not like a man at all, now he thinks about it - when an alternative plan comes to mind. He puts down the lid of the toilet seat, and sits on it heavily. 

Eventually, Nie Mingjue knocks again, softly, “you OK in there sweetheart?” He says.

“I’m a bit sick,” Wei Ying says, trying to stop his voice cracking. “Nothing bad, just - I think - you go to Lan Zhan’s. It’s fine. I can - catch up - next week.” 

“Babe,” Mingjue says, voice muffled. Wei Ying can almost see him hunting around the bedroom for his socks. “I won’t go. I’ll come home from work early - stay - look after you.”

“No,” Wei Ying says quickly. “No need, no. You be with Lan Zhan - he’ll - worry - otherwise.” 

“Well -,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly on the turn.

“Babe,” Wei Ying says, as sternly as he can manage. “Seriously.” 

“OK,” Mingjue says. He doesn’t sound sure but Wei Ying already knows he's going to go with it. It's easier. 

When Wei Ying eventually gets to work, delayed by his bathroom hiding, Nie Huaisang is apparently preoccupied with writing beautifully on the chalkboard. “I thought you were sick,” he throws, over his shoulder.

Fucking Nies. “Better now,” Wei Ying says, curtly. 

Wei Ying sort of gets by for the most of the day. He thinks he does OK all things considered. Then there’s a moment . And it really is only the barest of fractions of a moment, when he needs to be very alone and quiet, and close to the ground, and so he goes into the office and lies on the floor, super quietly and unobtrusively. He goes so far as to prop a pack of golf clubs against the door that he has found - he assumes, Huaisang’s - to stop someone from opening it.

He’s been lying there barely any time - a mere half hour at most, when the clubs crash to the floor and Huaisang enters as if he’s about to sing a dramatic aria. Wei Ying puts his palms over his eyes in the hope that everything will just go away. 

The good news is that Huaisang already thinks he’s sick so this is a great excuse - he’ll just send him home. 

He releases his face and watches, suspicious, as Nie Huaisang sits down on the floor in the very limited space Wei Ying is not taking up with his prone body and all the boxes. 

“I think I’ll need to make myself available for my brother tomorrow evening, won’t I?” He says.

At first it seems mysterious. And then it doesn’t. And Wei Ying has to press his hands against his eyes again as he cries, hard, into them. 

“Huaisang -,” he whispers. 

“You don’t need to tell me,” Huaisang says.

Eventually Wei Ying sits up. He pulls his sleeves over his hands and wipes his face roughly. “I can leave a letter - you think?” He says.

Nie Huaisang nods. “I actually think it’s better,” he says. He doesn’t need to explain it. “You need to stay at mine?” He asks.

“Thank you -,” Wei Ying says, “I should be fine at Yanli’s but - I - appreciate it.” He’s overwhelmed by tears. 

Huaisang gives him a quick rub on the back.

“Sorry Huaisang,” Wei Ying says, voice high, he is trying very, very hard not to sound pathetic. 

“Wei Ying,” Huaisang says, and his tone is admonishing, which makes Wei Ying feel a lot of things. 

“How did you know?” Wei Ying says, because he has to ask. 

Huaisang waves his hands. “I don’t know anything,” he says. 

Wei Ying wipes his nose. “It’s a great trick you play,” he tells him, “acting disinterested.” He stands up and holds out his hand for Huaisang to help himself up.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Huaisang says, “I must be getting on.”

He leaves quickly but Wei Ying knows what he said is true. It’s more than that. Everyone thinks Huaisang is scared of everything, when he’s scared of nothing at all. He’s always done everything alone. And Wei Ying doesn’t know anyone else who manages that. 

In just a matter of weeks Wei Ying has quite clearly demonstrated to himself that he can’t manage alone at all. But it’s about time that he changed that. 

Chapter Text

Wei Ying leaves a letter for Nie Mingjue. 

I’ve needed to move on for a while , he says, you know that as well as I do. You saved me, you shaped me, but now it’s time for me to stand on my own two feet .

He knows it must be all about his own choices. His own processes. If he shows even a fraction of vulnerability about it - a fraction of insecurity, it’s almost certain that Nie Mingjue will try and stop him from leaving - or that Lan Zhan and he will have arguments about it. And they mustn’t. He’s never seen a couple so suited for each other. They’re so similar. So stoic. Their values are the same. Nie Mingjue can rescue Lan Zhan in the way that he rescued Wei Ying. It’s his turn. Lan Zhan deserves the same as he got. 

He tries to explain this to Nie Mingjue. He thinks he gets something reasonable out at least. He tells him how much he loves him, how much he owes him. He cries as he writes it. He wants to check it’s OK with Nie Huaisang, but it’s not fair. 

At Yanli’s he’s distracted by Jin Ling’s adoration.

“Where’s Ni -,” he starts, and Yanli hushes him quickly. 

Wei Ying cries on and off through the night. He turns his head to his pillow to muffle the noise. 

The evening after, when he can be sure that Nie Mingjue will have read his letter, he messages Lan Zhan. I’m sorry and I wish you every happiness , he says. And then he blocks his number. 

He takes himself through each day, step by step. He organises, as efficiently as he can, to make it OK for him not to be at work for two months with a mixture of good temps and reliable hands. He knows he can be safe at work because of Nie Huaisang, which is an unusual privilege. Nie Huisang doesn’t make him talk about anything. 

Then Wei Ying packs up a backpack and heads to Thailand. He’s on a shoestring budget but it’s perfect. They’d always wanted to go, and he spends busy days stumbling over boats with his bag on the way to islands, lazy on the beach, cycling around or trekking in forests. He’s distracted. It works. 

While he’s in Bangkok he befriends a group of girls travelling in their early twenties, who he continues to bump into in different places. He doesn’t know why, but he keeps as much of a fatherly eye on them as he can from a distance, and it’s good because he can help them out of a couple of scrapes. If he were here with Mingjue, he would have taken this role. Wei Ying finds he can do it OK. He’s OK at it. He likes being alone. 

He misses Lan Zhan. It’s like a hum in his veins. Since the first day he met him. It hasn’t changed and it’s still there. Sometimes he’s sad that he’s lost him. But then, he never had him in the first place. 

---

Yanli picks him up from the airport, and he stretches like a cat while they’re waiting for his now extremely ropey backpack to appear. 

“Look at you, all tanned and rugged,” she says, pinching his waist.

“Fuck off,” he says, pushing her hand away. 

She looks at him with a curious expression. “You do look - I don’t know -,” she pauses.

“What?” He says, yawning widely. 

“Like - calm,” she says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look calm.” 

He’s given himself a couple of days grace period before starting back at work, and he looks around some cheap rooms to rent. It’s all horrific and he complains to Yanli at breakfast. 

“Just stay here with us,” she pleads. Jin Ling, on Wei Ying’s lap, turns and grips his cheek with a sticky hand and tries to feed him a spoon of his porridge. Wei Ying isn’t sure whether he’s on the same page as Yanli. 

“Aaah, Yanli, I can’t,” he protests, taking a bit of porridge into his mouth even though he knows it will be completely disgusting. “I’m a grown up.” He says, still with a mouthful of porridge. 

“Well. We like it,” she says. 

Wei Ying is pretty sure she can’t want to have an extra person in her house for too much longer, no matter what she says, although her husband is pretty boring. Besides, he needs his independence. He’s been enjoying it and he needs to ensure it continues now he’s back in his real life. Huaisang is bound to have some ideas. 

Huaisang pretends not to be excited on his first day back at work, but Wei Ying can tell he’s pleased to see him.

“Did you miss me?” He teases.

Huaisang looks disgusted. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “I would have swapped you with the Saturday boy only he’s been spotted and he’s off to do better things.” He looks Wei Ying up and down, “I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate the same won’t happen to you.” 

“You’re like a vicious old cat,” Wei Ying tells him, “I’m surprised you didn’t poo in my shoes while I was away.” 

Huaisang hisses at him.

It’s not until lunchtime that Wei Ying dares to ask about Nie Mingjue and Lan Zhan. His stomach has been doing somersaults all morning just thinking about it - being back at work with Huaisang is such an intense reminder - and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get anything down unless he gets it out of the way. He knows the run of Lan Zhan’s show is finished, because he looked it up when he was away, but he has no idea what he’s doing now. He’s terrified they’ll already have moved in together. He can cope - he’s been preparing - it’s just - well. He can cope. 

“How’s -,” he tries, but gets caught up in a cough his throat is so dry. He clears his throat so dramatically that Huaisang looks quite startled. “Ming - jue,” he manages to cough out. 

Huaisang waves a hand. “Fine, I mean, as boring as ever, but if you want to hear anything about workout routines it’s all fine - god dinner with him and Pete is the driest experience I do not want to repeat anytime soon - not least because of all the protein.” 

“And - how’s -,” but something stops Wei Ying. Hang on. He goes back over Huaisang’s sentence. He swallows. “Who’s Pete?” He says. 

Huaisang looks at him incredulously. “His boyfriend , darling. Keep up.” 

“Huaisang, what ?”

“His boyfriend, poppet. Didn’t anyone tell you?” 

“No,” Wei Ying says, straining not to yell. “Who would tell me, Huaisang -. Apart from you. Who -?” But he has to press his lips together, and he squeezes the centre of his forehead between his finger and thumb. “Huaisang -,” he says, and he can hear his voice sounds reedy. A little desperate. 

“Yes - how can I describe him? Uhm - he’s very, hmmm. What would you call it?” He asks, Wei Ying, as if Wei Ying would have any contribution to the debate at this current time . “Hmmm - white -, I suppose,” Huaisang finishes. “I would have thought Yanli would tell you - or you know - you’d be stalking like a normal person.” 

“HUAISANG,” Wei Ying says, reaching out his arm, keeping his eyes closed. “I’m going to stop you there - I’m going to - stop - you.” He clears his throat, opens his eyes. “Lan Zhan,” he says. “Lan - Zhan -?” 

“Yes,” Huaisang says, firmly.

“How is he - where -?” Wei Ying struggles to know what he wants to ask. “Is - he - with -?”

Huaisang appears to take pity on him. “Oh,” he says. “No, no.” Although - it’s not entirely clear what he is saying no to. “I don’t know - haven’t seen him in weeks , darling. Weeks.” 

“Oh god,” Wei Ying reaches his arm out to find something to lean on. He finds the desk. “OK. Oh god.” He’s just trying to breathe. 

“Are you quite all right?” Huaisang asks. 

Wei Ying stands up straight. “Yes,” he says, forcing himself to sound calm. To - be - calm. “Huaisang I need to go.” He suddenly knows exactly what he needs to do. 

“Oh,” he says. “OK. I mean - don’t trouble yourself with work on my account.”

“I’ll do a double shift tomorrow -,” Wei Ying yells, over his shoulder, as he runs out of the office. 

---

Nie Mingjue looks good. “Wei Ying -,” he says, with an expression of delighted surprise on his face, when he opens the door. “Wei Ying,” he says, and pulls him close. He squeezes him so tightly that Wei Ying can hardly breathe, and he feels shame fill his body. He doesn’t deserve this welcome. 

When Nie Mingjue pushes him away he’s wiping tears away from his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Wei Ying,” he says, again. “You look so well. I’ve been worried. Please,” he says, beckoning, “come in.” He takes his hand and pulls him inside. It’s the weirdest thing, being back in his own house. But it’s not his house at all any longer, and it already looks and feels quite different. He definitely doesn’t remember it smelling quite this - testosterone-y before, but who knows. You get used to things. 

Nie Mingjue makes him some tea and they sit at the kitchen table. “Yanli has been keeping me up to date of course,” he says, “and I’ve been enjoying the photos.”

“Good,” Wei Ying says. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Mingjue has liked every single one of his insta posts religiously. 

“I just - missed you -.” His forehead crumples again. He puts his hand over Wei Ying’s. “Sorry, Wei Ying, I - shouldn’t be so sentimental. It’s silly.” 

“No - no -,” Wei Ying says, “I missed you too.” He has. It hasn’t been a yearn or an ache. It’s a steady sense of something missing, a comfort, the person that’s always there behind you, alongside you, just not being there any more. Wei Ying knows exactly how he feels. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch - I wanted to give you some space.”

Mingjue nods. “I know,” he says. “We need to sort out the house - all the - money you put into the mortgage.”

Wei Ying waves a hand. “Oh god,” he says. “Not now.”

Nie Mingjue smiles at him. “You never did know what’s good for you,” he says. 

Wei Ying straightens up. “I need to meet Pete,” he says.

Nie Mingjue nods, reaches for a tissue to blow his nose loudly. “You’ll like him. He made me invest in an anti snoring device.” 

“Huh,” Wei Ying is surprised. “I kind of thought he might be a snorer too -?” 

Nie Mingjue shrugs. “We’ll never know. I sleep like a baby.” 

Wei Ying rubs Mingjue’s great big forearm. “I’ll always love you,” he tells him. 

“Me too.”

They sit in silence for some moments. Wei Ying squeezes his arm. 

“You know,” Nie Mingjue says. “You were mistaken about what Lan Zhan and I could be together.”

“But you were -,” Wei Ying tries to reach for the word, “- compatible.”

Nie Mingjue nods. “But it wasn’t love. You were what we had in common.” 

Wei Ying looks down into his lap, sighs.

“He’s got the same number,” Mingjue says. “He’s OK, Wei Ying. He’s doing fine. He doesn’t hate you.” 

Wei Ying looks up quickly, he can’t help himself. He needs to check the sincerity in Nie Mingjue’s expression. 

--- 

As soon as he leaves he unblocks Lan Zhan’s number and messages him. can i see u . 

He gets the reply before he gets back home. 4.30 no. 67 , it says. 

Wei Ying gives it the thumbs up and then checks the time. He’s going to have to run if he’s going to make it on time. 

He’s sweaty and breathless when he makes his way in, trying to slow down and breathe so he doesn’t look insane . He’s grateful that the rush has at least spared him the inevitable build up of nerves that threaten to take over his body now he’s here.

He spots Lan Zhan almost immediately. He looks fresh, bare-faced, younger somehow, than he remembered. He’s staring back at him. There’s a coffee waiting for Wei Ying in front of him. 

Wei Ying sits down. “Hello,” he says. 

“Hi,” Lan Zhan says. And Wei Ying had forgotten how low his voice was. How awkward he could be. 

“Lan Zhan, I’m really sorry -,” Wei Ying starts, but he stops because Lan Zhan is shaking his head. 

“Please don’t,” he says. 

Wei Ying rubs a hand over his mouth. “No,” he says, suddenly sure Lan Zhan must have moved on, “you’re right - it’s in the past.” 

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “I don’t believe in apologies,” he says, “they don’t change anything.” 

Wei Ying isn’t sure what to say. “You finished the play -?” He asks. 

Lan Zhan nods.

“What’s next?” 

“I’m training - for a film,” he says. He sips his tea, “pole dancing.” 

Wei Ying swallows. Oh dear god. The image of a pole dancing Lan Zhan is not something Wei Ying thinks he can move on from. “I really thought you’d be better off with Nie Mingjue,” he blurts out. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, putting his tea cup down, quirking his lips with dissatisfaction. “It’s a shame you didn’t ask.” 

“You said it was easy ,” Wei Ying tells him. He’s no idea where this is coming from.

“Yes, Wei Ying, it was easy ,” Lan Zhan says. His voice is bitter. “I told you how I was with relationships.” 

“Ah -,” Wei Ying starts.

“Before you ,” Lan Zhan interrupts. “I told you how I was in relationships before you and I told you it was different.” 

“Oh,” Wei Ying says. OK. 

“Yes. ‘Oh’,” Lan Zhan says. 

“So - r - no. Not that,” Wei Ying says. “Can I fix it - at all?” 

Lan Zhan ignores him. “I don’t think you realise that some - people - like how much of yourself you give away. If those - people - find it hard to do the same thing themselves.” 

Wei Ying’s nerves are fizzing. He doesn’t know whether he should have hope or not. He keeps swinging wildly between the two. “Well some people find some people a bit too intimidating to understand - you know - when they’re so perfect and silent all the time.” 

“Well some people thought they’d been better understood by some people than other people - before,” Lan Zhan says, his voice suddenly rather quiet. 

“Um, Lan Zhan -?” Wei Ying says. He’s beginning to sympathise with Lan Zhan’s interviewers at this point. “Are you some people or am I some people now?”

“Neither,” Lan Zhan says. “Or both.” 

Wei Ying bites his lip. 

Lan Zhan leans back in his chair. “You told me I was already sweet enough,” he says, pointing to the sugar bowl. 

“I rarely say anything I don’t mean.”

“I did - once,” Lan Zhan says. 

Wei Ying holds his breath. 

“I told you I wasn’t in love -,” Lan Zhan trails off. 

Wei Ying lets go of his breath. He leans his head slowly down until his forehead hits the table, which wobbles a little. His breath catches as he breathes back in and he feels choked by the threat of tears. He reaches out his hands across the table to feel for Lan Zhan’s hands and thank god, he takes them gently in his and squeezes. “Please let me say I’m sorry,” Wei Ying says, quite firmly, to the table. Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything for so long that Wei Ying is forced to lift his head up. He finds he has to squint a little, because it was dark before. 

“No,” Lan Zhan says, lifting one of his eyebrows a little in challenge. 

“Do you want me to get down on my knees?” Wei Ying says, quietly but clearly. 

Lan Zhan looks away, towards the window. “Not here,” he says. 

Wei Ying shivers.

“I want you to show me you’re sorry,” Lan Zhan tells him. 

---

The taxi back to Lan Zhan’s is both silent and agonising, but when they get inside his place, things slow down a little. Wei Ying doesn’t feel ready to steam ahead and it doesn’t seem like Lan Zhan does either. He’s a little shy with him. 

“Can we be together, in the bed, like the first time?” He asks Wei Ying. 

Wei Ying swallows, “naked?” he says. 

Lan Zhan nods. 

“OK,” Wei Ying says, weakly. 

Lan Zhan pulls the duvet over their heads when they’re under and he’s right, everything does feel OK now. 

“Why didn’t you come back for me, sooner?” Lan Zhan asks him.

“I didn’t know sooner,” Wei Ying tells him. 

“I don’t want to do this if you’re going to leave me again.”

“I won’t,” Wei Ying puts his hand on Lan Zhan’s waist and he sinks under his touch, quivers. “I won’t leave you again.” 

“I have to ask -,” Lan Zhan takes a breath, “you might not want to be in this, with me, now - because I’m going to come out.” 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying breathes. 

“And it could be bad,” Lan Zhan says, face serious in the grainy dimness. “My agent says it could be bad. My uncle doesn’t want me to do it at all.” 

“What does your brother say?”

Lan Zhan puts a hand on Wei Ying’s hand on his waist, pushes it down towards the swell of his butt. Wei Ying responds with a gentle squeeze. It feels good. 

“He doesn’t say anything. He’ll support me whatever.” 

“Well so will I,” Wei Ying says. “I don’t care about any of that stuff.”

Lan Zhan leans forwards, staring at him all the while, and then he looks down towards Wei Ying’s lips. Wei Ying closes the gap between them for a kiss. It’s the sweetest kiss he thinks he’s ever had. He shivers with it, moves closer to press against Lan Zhan, squeezing his butt even more tightly as Lan Zhan moves his hand onto his. 

“You won’t have to do anything,” Lan Zhan breathes. “I just don’t want to hide anymore.”

Wei Ying has a lot to say about his bravery, and the esteem with which he holds him, but he can’t bear to waste time now he’s faced with a close and naked Lan Zhan. He kisses and kisses him, shifting angles, shifting pressure, shifting lips and teeth, moving his hand to feel as much as he can feel. And they kiss, and kiss, and feel, and hold. He can’t believe he almost lost this. He can’t believe he almost never had it.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers to Lan Zhan, “so much,” he says, and he can feel the pain pull at his heart, inside his chest. 

Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything. He kisses him harder, and he holds him closer. 

Things get increasingly sweaty, firm, and slippery, but Lan Zhan doesn’t have any condoms. 

“I was abstinent,” he says. ‘It was a choice.” He sounds distraught. 

Wei Ying has to suppress a laugh, “don’t worry,” he says, “I know exactly what to do with you.” 

He gestures for Lan Zhan to turn around, and he moves his hand between the tops of his thighs to show him what he means. He strokes behind his balls, and Lan Zhan moans quietly.

Wei Ying fucks between his thighs, breathing into his hairline and biting and sucking at the back of his neck. He can tell Lan Zhan is into it, and soon he reaches his arm behind him to pull Wei Ying’s hand to stroke him, Lan Zhan’s hand around his own, setting the pressure and the pace. When Lan Zhan comes, only a little after Wei Ying, he moves their hands to mess their spunk together, between his legs, up onto his belly, and Wei Ying shudders, and holds him tighter. 

Lan Zhan rolls over onto his back, still with Wei Ying’s hand firmly in his grip, and he presses it to his stomach, Wei Ying shifts over to lie his head on his chest. 

“So this is what it’s like,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying smiles. “This is what it’s like,” he says.