Chapter Text
Lan Zhan laughs when he’s drunk.
At first, Wei Ying is certain he’s imagining it. That the five vodka lemonades, two shots and one glass of wine are affecting his sensory perception. That it’s some sort of alcohol-induced optical illusion when Lan Zhan’s mouth moves in sync with the soft giggle hitting Wei Ying’s ears.
Then Lan Zhan does it again. And Wei Ying realises he’s in love.
He’s not one to fall in love flippantly. In fact, prior to three and a half seconds ago, he’d never fallen in love at all. He puts up a brave (and often flirtatious) facade but after spending his early years in foster care, Wei Ying knows trust should never be given easily.
And falling in love is a very trusting thing to do.
“Wei Ying,” whispers drunk Lan Zhan. He slides off his bar stool and sways forward, dropping his forehead to rest on Wei Ying’s shoulder. “Take me home.”
Wei Ying’s wearing a leather jacket.
Even four flights away and through the bars adoring his dorm window, Lan Zhan knows the black-clad figure below him is Wei Ying. If his foster mother’s purple Tesla hadn’t already given him away, then the way he flips the bird at her as she drives off, then promptly falls back onto his own suitcase certainly does.
As he gets back to his feet, Wei Ying casually pops the collar of his leather jacket, and Lan Zhan realises he’s in love.
The irony of the origin of the garment to evoke such a response is not lost on Lan Zhan, and he will address his animal-loving scruples later. For now, he basks in this new evolved feeling, so completely intense, but not particularly surprising.
Lan Zhan has no business being in love with Wei Ying. Nor does he have any business knowing what kind of car Wei Ying’s foster mother drives, let alone knowing about Wei Ying’s family dynamic at all. Except Wei Ying talks a lot, and loudly, and Lan Zhan listens.
It was only a matter of time before Lan Zhan’s crush turned into…this.
Wei Ying shoves his sleeves to his elbows only for them to slide right back down. He does it once more to the same effect before dragging his oversized suitcase to the entrance of the residential building, Lan Zhan’s residential building .
Lan Zhan’s heartbeat races. He’s only shared three classes with Wei Ying over the last two years and even that fleeting contact has been overwhelming. Now for his third and final year of university, he might also run into Wei Ying on the stairs, or, if they share a floor, returning from the communal showers. Please let them share a floor. No, Lan Zhan immediately self corrects. That would be improper.
Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying struggle with his suitcase up the entrance steps, one heave at a time. Until, at the last hurdle, he miscalculates the height and the suitcase slams onto its side and bursts open, decorating the steps with Wei Ying’s clothes and what appears suspiciously like a giant tub of chilli flakes. Nearby students look over but don’t stop, walking over or on Wei Ying’s clothes to get past. Meanwhile, Wei Ying flails around, furiously jamming each item back inside his case, only for most of them to fall out again. The suitcase’s flimsy zips are clearly not designed to match Wei Ying’s chaotic energy. Then again, what is?
Without thinking too much about it because if he does he’ll stay frozen, Lan Zhan turns from the window, unzips one of his own suitcases, dumps the carefully folded contents onto his bed and dashes down the stairs two, three at a time. At the entrance, he pauses, collects himself, neutralises his face, and continues forward slowly, calmly …at least on the outside.
Wei Ying, still flailing, still charmingly chaotic, still clad in that leather jacket, doesn’t notice him at first. That’s fine by Lan Zhan. He places his empty suitcase beside the stairs and begins the process of retrieving, folding and packing Wei Ying’s clothes. Most of them are in desperate need of an iron, having been clearly stuffed indiscriminately into Wei Ying’s overpacked case.
“Hey!” Wei Ying suddenly yells, yanking a Lady Gaga t-shirt from Lan Zhan’s hands. “That’s mine.” His eyes widen as they pass over Lan Zhan’s case. “Those are all mine too! Are you some sort of scam artist? I’ve heard about your type, you know. Hanging around unis, trying to trick unsuspecting first years into trusting you with their luggage. Well, I’m not a first year and you can’t fool me. Give me back my clothes.”
That’s when Lan Zhan realises Wei Ying, his reigning crush and the object of his deepest affections, doesn’t even know who he is. His heart clenches painfully at the rejection but he manages to keep it from showing on his face. True, they’ve never spoken directly, but they’ve shared classes. They were even in a group project once. With five others, and most of the work was completed online, but still. Lan Zhan could never forget Wei Ying.
“You have overpacked your bag,” he says in a deliberate monotone, lest his emotions reveal themselves. “Let me help you.”
Wei Ying’s eyes flick over Lan Zhan. “You don’t look like a criminal.”
“You should not make judgments based on appearance,” Lan Zhan rattles off automatically. And certainly not based on leather jackets, he privately admonishes himself.
Wei Ying grins, wide and toothy. “So, you are a criminal!”
“No.”
“Shame, you have the perfect face for a mug shot.” Wei Ying shrugs and dumps a bundle of clothes in Lan Zhan’s bag. “Okay, you can help, but I’ve got both my eyes on you. And my hands if you make any sudden movements.”
The playful threat in Wei Ying’s tone should not affect Lan Zhan. It should not make the little hairs on the back of his neck rise up. It should not make his brain immediately pull up images of Wei Ying’s hands on him in very different, very inappropriate circumstances. Lan Zhan drops his gaze and busies himself zipping up his bag.
“Which–” Lan Zhan croaks, then clears his throat. He is never like this. “Which room is yours?”
“Good question!” Wei Ying slides his phone from the back pocket of his very, very tight jeans. “I know I saved it somewhere…” he mutters.
Lan Zhan finishes securing both bags and lifts them, one in each hand. His left eyelid is twitching and he is acutely aware of his spine’s contrary slump as he hunches to meet Wei Ying’s level. God, he is such a mess. He might as well burst into romantic poetry right now with how obvious he’s being.
“Aha!” Wei Ying yells triumphantly. “Room 4-8.”
Lan Zhan drops both bags. Thankfully, now they are adequately packed, neither burst, but Lan Zhan still might. 4-8 is also his room, and the prospect of rooming with Wei Ying is only as thrilling as it is terrifying. He can’t decide if the universe is offering him a reward or punishment.
Wei Ying moves to grab his bag and Lan Zhan quickly picks it up, as well as his own, once more, keeping his grip firm this time. A reward, he decides.
“Let me,” Wei Ying says, latching onto the opposite handle.
Lan Zhan easily pulls it from his grasp. “No.”
Wei Ying pouts and Lan Zhan forces his eyes not to linger for more than half a second on his mouth. Punishment. Definitely punishment.
“I can carry my own bag.”
“Recent events suggest otherwise.”
Lan Zhan turns and enters the residential block to avoid catching Wei Ying’s reaction. He’s not intending to be rude, but the control it takes not to turn into a flushing bumbling mess in Wei Ying’s presence forces him to overcompensate. Great work, Lan Zhan, he thinks to himself sarcastically, Instead of Wei Ying knowing you’re in love with him, he’s going to think you hate him. Much better.
The residential building is old – heritage the university brochures say to avoid accommodating accessibility requirements – with no elevator and only one central staircase. Lan Zhan hoists each suitcase a fraction higher and begins the long journey upwards.
Wei Ying lags half a step behind. “It’s not fair to blame me,” he says, probably still pouting. “You said it yourself. My suitcase was overpacked. Not my fault.”
Nothing is your fault, Lan Zhan’s lovesick brain thinks unironically, you’re perfect. But what his cruel mouth actually says is: “Who packed it?”
Wei Ying huffs. Lan Zhan knows the sounds well; depending on Wei Ying’s facial expression it could be in impatience or humour or a mix of both. He doesn’t dare turn around to confirm. He doesn’t trust his control not to linger on the expressive arch of Wei Ying’s eyebrows, or the curves of his bottom lip when he–
“Don’t get tricky with me, Mr Maybe-Criminal. That’s besides the point. I’m starting to think this is all part of your plan. You lull me into a sense of security with your perfectly symmetrical face and then BAM! You’re running off with all my clothes and selling my custom The Witcher ™ dildo–”
Lan Zhan’s composure slips and he’s grateful only a passing student he doesn’t know sees the wide doe-eyed expression on his face before he quickly resets it.
Wei Ying coughs behind him.“–I mean figurine. Selling my custom The Witcher ™ figurine on eBay. You know, The Witcher. He has lots of figurines. Very popular. You should get one. A figurine! But not mine. Um, because you’re not allowed to steal my stuff. Actually, on second thoughts, you do look like a criminal. You have that smooth composed thing going on which is obviously a cover up for your burglarious intent.”
Lan Zhan means to counter the criminal accusation or at least correct Wei Ying’s absurd suggestion of burglary (he can hardly break into his own room…) but he’s rendered temporarily speechless by Wei Ying’s dildo slip. Listening to Wei Ying’s endless chatter in class had been one thing, but now, feeling the full affront of it, Lan Zhan realises he is not going to make it through this year without his feelings becoming painstakingly obvious. With every word Wei Ying says, Lan Zhan can feel himself falling helplessly further in love. The universe has a cruel sense of humour.
“Do you put in this effort for all the guys in this residential block or am I special?” Wei Ying asks on the third flight.
You’re special. You’re the only one. “You make the most mess.” Lan Zhan considers the verbal sparring between Wei Ying and Madam Yu that made him look out his window in the first place. “And the most noise.”
“You haven’t heard anything yet. What floor are you on? Wait until I play When Doves Cry at one am tonight.”
Prince. Lady Gaga. Bowie. Saweetie. Lan Zhan knows all of Wei Ying’s favourite music. How can Lan Zhan know so much about a person who, until two minutes ago, didn’t know he even existed? Pathetic, Lan Zhan tells himself. You had two years to make an impression and you did nothing. You’re boring and strange and you have no friends.
Wei Ying must take Lan Zhan’s silence for objection, rather than personal frustration, because he adds: “It’s the only way I can fall asleep.”
Wei Ying has insomnia and anxiety and he’s allergic to latex. Stupid, Lan Zhan tells his brain, why can’t you memorise other things? Like how to hold a conversation with your crush without turning into a mess. It’s not like he’s been stalking Wei Ying or anything. It’s just that Wei Ying is very free with the information he shares in class, or loudly in the corridor outside of class. Lan Zhan can’t help that he has ears, and a brain with a memory that becomes photographic when Wei Ying is involved.
“You can play Prince at nine thirty,” Lan Zhan suggests.
“Nine thirty?” Wei Ying repeats with all the emotion Lan Zhan avoids. “Is that your bedtime?”
They reach the fourth and final landing and Wei Ying falls into step beside Lan Zhan. He’s grinning in his usual smug careless way that Lan Zhan would photograph and frame on his wall if that wasn’t, you know, super strange and creepy. Especially creepy now that he shares his walls with Wei Ying.
“Please tell me you don’t actually go to bed at nine thirty.”
Lan Zhan decides it is in his best interest not to reply, especially since his bedtime is actually nine o-clock on the dot. The extra half an hour had been a courtesy for Wei Ying only. He finally has a chance to make an impression and he’s already fucking it up.
“Dude, this is uni. Nothing good happens until after ten pm, at least. And you’re tucking yourself in at nine thirty ?”
“Sleep is important for cognitive function,” Lan Zhan regurgitates automatically and mentally screams at himself. You’re so fucking cool, Lan Zhan, he thinks sarcastically. The coolest. Not strange at all. Wei Ying will definitely like you now. He stops outside room 4-8 and lets Wei Ying key the lock.
As the door swings open, Wei Ying’s eyes widen. “Oh no.”
Lan Zhan looks over his shoulder. The room is barely big enough for one person and somehow the university has crammed two single beds against either wall. Between them is one tiny window with bars on the outside and below that a shared dresser with three drawers, one missing a handle. A carefully considered line of white duct tape splits the room in two from the window to the entranceway.
Lan Zhan had found it small, yes, but overall in line with his expectations of on-campus living. In truth, he’d only chosen to live on campus for the first time this year to escape his uncle so the bar had been quite low.
“What's wrong?” he asks.
“My roommate is going to be a nightmare,” Wei Ying says, typing frantically into his mobile.
Lan Zhan looks over to his side of the room to understand Wei Ying’s assessment. His bed is littered with half-folded clothes from his hasty suitcase dump, but otherwise he’s left it neat. He’d already replaced the University’s standard blue sheets with plain white ones and his second suitcase stands neatly at the foot of the bed, ready to be unpacked.
“Why do you say that?”
Wei Ying points to the floor. “He has literally marked up a line to determine sides!” He peels off his leather jacket – Punishment! – and throws it onto the remaining bed. “He must be looking for a fight.”
Beneath the jacket, Wei Ying wears a plain white tee with an orange stain in the centre of his chest. Knowing Wei Ying, the origin is almost certainly food. Lan Zhan averts his gaze politely.
“Or perhaps he is avoiding one by ensuring both roommates are equally aware of each other’s boundaries. It is respectful.”
“Oh no,” Wei Ying says again. “You’re my roommate.”
It takes all Lan Zhan’s control to keep the hurt from his face. “Mn.”
University classes begin and, for the first time, Lan Zhan is out of his depth. He only receives a 93% on an early assignment. 93%! It’s not that the coursework is too hard or too cumbersome, and even if it were, Lan Zhan would revel in the challenge. No, it’s because Lan Zhan is distracted. He’d thought having a crush these last two years was time-consuming enough but that was nothing to being in love. Just as being ignored by your crush is nothing to being hated by your love. And Wei Ying’s hate is particularly debilitating.
Not that Lan Zhan doesn’t deserve it. With his feelings threatening to reveal themselves at every opportunity, he’s anxiously taken to overcompensating, to the point where everything he says to Wei Ying comes out like a complaint or order. To Wei Ying, he can only appear cruel and unfeeling, despite his inner thoughts being anything but.
For example, instead of saying:
The speed in which you eat makes me concerned for your personal welfare and I hope you are currently seeing a therapist for childhood trauma. Perhaps, I could help you enjoy regular full meals by taking you out to eat three times a day.
Lan Zhan says:
“Do not eat in the dormroom.”
Instead of saying:
When you leave your underwear on the floor, it makes me horny in a way that is inappropriate for roommates. Would you mind attempting to put them away?
Lan Zhan says:
“Do not leave your clothes on the floor.”
Instead of saying:
You were shivering this morning and I don’t know if it is overstepping to cover you in the spare blanket I purchased just for you.
Lan Zhan says:
“Do not leave the window open at night.”
Instead of saying:
Your suggestive pen sucking is inherently phallic and I would much rather not have an erection right now since I am finalising an assignment that is due in two weeks. I know it is my fault for leaving the work until the last minute but in my defence, you were also suggestively eating a banana last weekend.
Lan Zhan says:
“Do not chew on your pens.”
Instead of saying:
I am concerned the volume of your music will burst your eardrums eventually and any harm you experience will also harm me irreparably. Please take care.
Lan Zhan says:
“Do not play music above sixty-two decibels.”
Instead of saying:
I love you.
Lan Zhan effectively says:
“Do not under any circumstances smile, laugh or have any fun whatsoever.”
At least, that’s the exact line Wei Ying repeats to his friends in a poor imitation of Lan Zhan’s low monotoned voice. Lan Zhan overhears him complaining about his “uptight fuddy-duddy” roommate one afternoon. He stops at the door to their shared room, his face heating at the giggles behind it.
“Do. Not. Breathe,” Wei Ying continues. “Do. Not. Exist. Do not use The Witcher ™ dildo at two am in the morning!”
(For the record, Lan Zhan has never blasphemed The Witcher ™ dildo in that way. He is always deeply asleep at two am anyway.)
Amongst the laughter, someone inside even claps. “You are a terrible roommate,” a woman’s voice says.
“Me?” Wei Ying says. “I would never make rules about The Witcher ™ dildo. And do I have to point out the duct tape?”
(Again, Lan Zhan has never made any rules pertaining to The Witcher ™ dildo, nor will he ever. The duct tape, of course, was his idea and he stands by it. Wei Ying’s presence is already unbearable. Shouldn’t he at least be allowed one boundary?)
Swallowing down the hurt that bundles in his throat, Lan Zhan backs away silently from the door and resolves to spend the evening in the library by the encyclopaedia section where nobody ever visits. That way, there will be no one to witness his tears. Do not let your feelings show.
The worst part is Lan Zhan knows the hatred is of his own making. If he could only express himself properly, he could be Wei Ying’s friend. Or perhaps that is wishful thinking. Except Wei Ying seems to make friends easily. Already he’s befriended Wen Ning from two blocks away and his sister Wen Qing even though she only shares classes with Lan Zhan, not Wei Ying. Then, of course, there’s Nie Huaisang who Wei Ying made friends with in first year. Lan Zhan witnessed their friendship bloom, even as he sat two seats behind them in ‘Intro to Academic Writing’, his ears already attuned to one melodic voice.
But, whatever the possibilities may have been, the damage is already done. Wei Ying hates him, which makes Lan Zhan’s love strange and creepy and ridiculous. He does his best to stay out of Wei Ying’s way, keeping carefully to his side of the duct taped boundary, every step precisely mapped out. When Wei Ying’s clothes inevitably drift to Lan Zhan’s side, he carefully pushes them back with an unassuming foot.
Other than clothes, and the occasional chilli flakes, Wei Ying keeps to his side too, though he often teeters right on the edge, almost as if to get a rise out of Lan Zhan. But Lan Zhan can’t say anything other than his famous “Do not...” catchphrases so he ignores the potential slight.
A few weeks into the year, his brother Lan Huan texts offering congratulations to Lan Zhan for making friends at university. Lan Zhan is too ashamed to correct his brother. No, I am still strange and unlikeable with no friends. Still, he has to find out what his brother means. When he queries further, Lan Huan sends a link to a Tiktok video.
The cover image is a picture of Wei Ying’s face so of course, Lan Zhan clicks on the link immediately. He is not required to log-in to watch it. Clearly, privacy is not a concern of his roommate’s. Lan Zhan already knows this from the shameful way Wei Ying often changes his clothes in their room rather than in the bathrooms, but this is bordering on unsafe. Even his captions include the locations of his filming.
The Tiktok in question is a cheeky ‘day in the life’ edit with a late shot featuring an unconsenting Lan Zhan trying to study. Though the original audio has been covered by music and edited to a short snippet, Lan Zhan remembers the moment well. Wei Ying had thrown a scrunched up piece of paper at his head and urged him to open it. Inside was a quick sketch of their room but in place of duct tape, a rocky chasm separated the room. Wei Ying had drawn himself as stick figure but taken the time to sketch Lan Zhan in much greater detail, capturing his likeness exactly. Lan Zhan wanted to keep the drawing forever, frame it, look at it every morning. But instead, he shamefully discarded the paper to Wei Ying’s side of the tape and said, “Do not draw me.”
In Wei Ying’s Tiktok, a caption pops up over the snippet of Lan Zhan getting hit by the paper, and so, even though he hates the memory, Lan Zhan can’t help replaying the video over and over again to read it, if only to focus on one crucial word:
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
annoying my pretty roommate check!
my pretty roommate check!
my pretty roommate
pretty roommate
pretty
Lan Zhan is furious to learn the next day when he returns to Wei Ying’s Tiktok that the video has been inexplicably deleted.
Logically this means Lan Zhan has to create his own Tiktok account to check Wei Ying’s content regularly, just in case another video should appear and disappear with him in it. He needs to review the content before anything is deleted to ensure it is appropriate. Especially if his brother is also watching. It’s unlikely Wei Ying will notice a blank profile amongst a thousand others liking all his Tiktok videos anyway. He hadn’t noticed Lan Zhan for an entire two years.
One morning, following Lan Zhan’s usual six am shower, he returns to the room to find Wei Ying’s bed empty. This is strange. Wei Ying is chaotic but he is always in bed, whether actually sleeping or staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes, well into the morning. Before Lan Zhan can worry too much about Wei Ying’s whereabouts, he finally spots him.
Wei Ying’s not sleeping in his own bed because he’s sleeping in Lan Zhan’s! He’s curled up on one side, facing the room, more relaxed than perhaps Lan Zhan has ever seen him in rest. He’s wearing an oversized band tee and some old gym shorts – he’d used to sleep pantless until Lan Zhan had cracked one day and said embarrassingly “Do not sleep pantless!” – and his head fits perfectly into Lan Zhan’s memory foam pillow. Drool pools at the corner of his mouth which Lan Zhan knows he should find gross, and maybe he still does a little, but mostly, it’s cute. Wei Ying is fast asleep in his bed and it’s the cutest thing Lan Zhan has ever witnessed.
Lan Zhan stares for so long, frozen in the centre of the room, that he completely misses his routine pre-class study session. Eventually, when he can coordinate with his limbs to move, Lan Zhan steps in close, his heart beating way too fast than the situation calls for, and pulls the blanket – his blanket – up around Wei Ying’s shoulders. Then, before he can get trapped in a stare again, Lan Zhan turns away, gathers his laptop and books and hurries to his first class.
People stare at him strangely on the stairs, and in the courtyard, and in the corridor. It’s not until he sits down in class and opens his laptop, that he sees a flash of his own face reflected at him in the black screen before it boots up. He’s smiling.
Lan Zhan neutralises his face immediately.
After discovering his roommate mysteriously sleeping in his bed, Lan Zhan finds himself rendered mute in Wei Ying’s presence. Even when Wei Ying eats nachos in bed, Lan Zhan can’t even bring himself to say “Do not spill salsa on your sheets.” Instead he locks eyes with Wei Ying, his face burning hot, and immediately turns back to his laptop, pretending to study. What must Wei Ying think of him now?
At night, sleep is slower than usual. Wei Ying’s scent has seeped into his sheets – fresh orange and…barbeque smoke? – and Lan Zhan finds himself breathing his pillow in deeply, always chasing more. When sleep does come, his dreams are intensely visual in a way that brings him extreme guilt in the mornings. Especially when those specific dreams leave him forced to make certain private arrangements in the shower.
After two nights, he washes his sheets, but the dreams linger. To be on the safe side, he purchases new white sheets and an entirely new pillow. Wei Ying watches Lan Zhan replace the offensive coverings on a Saturday afternoon, his nose scrunching, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask why. Which is a relief since there is no way Lan Zhan can speak to Wei Ying, let alone answer for his embarrassing actions.
Satisfied Wei Ying’s smell is banished from his side of the room, Lan Zhan resolves to reign his graphic thoughts in, out of respect for his roommate, and ultimately out of kindness to himself. Just because Wei Ying slept in his bed, does not mean anything will ever eventuate between them. Entertaining the idea can only bring Lan Zhan more disappointment.
Except of course, he doesn’t tell Wei Ying of this plan, obviously, since that would defeat his purpose of never ever revealing his true feelings. Unfortunately, this means Wei Ying does not know not to post a thirsty Tiktok on Saturday night. (Lan Zhan only knows Wei Ying is dehydrated at the time of posting because of the hashtag: #thirsty.)
Before he can analyse his own actions and condemn them, Lan Zhan is letting the video replay on a loop, mesmorised. And then, inevitably, once he panics and realises this video could be deleted at any time, Lan Zhan has a terrible obsessive urge. Of course, he would never act on this urge. Unlike Wei Ying, Lan Zhan is disciplined and honourable. In fact, there are many things Wei Ying is not: organised, clean, predictable, unattractive...well-hydrated.
No, Lan Zhan doesn’t plan to act on this urge because he assumes the video will be deleted in days, and the temptation removed. But after almost a week, it’s still sitting there on Wei Ying’s Tiktok profile, taunting him.
It’s a Friday afternoon and Lan Zhan sits in his final class of the day, sweating. The temperature in the classroom is not unpleasant, and if anything, it might be bordering on chilly. But Lan Zhan sweats all the same.
He laid out the plan in his mind as soon as he awoke at five am in the morning. Wei Ying never returns to their room after classes on a Friday, assumingly hanging out with his friends like a normal university student. The Tiktok is just sitting there on Wei Ying’s profile for anyone to watch. Lan Zhan’s obsession with it is eating away at his concentration and commitment to his studies.
He plans to allow himself one lapse in discipline, in order to refocus and move on.
That’s why he’s sweating. It’s impossible but he feels as if everyone must know what he’s planning. That when the professor’s gaze passes over Lan Zhan, she can see the hunger and guilt in eyes. That when another student asks if they can borrow a pencil, they can hear the lingering desperation in Lan Zhan’s reply. (“Mn.”)
The end of class can’t come fast enough. He leaps out of his chair and all but runs back to his room, back to their room. He must look like an emotional wreck, but he’s too preoccupied to care.
He eyes Wei Ying’s bed but only for a moment. He is allowing one minor lapse in discipline, not throwing the doors open to all debauchery. Besides, when Wei Ying had fallen asleep in his bed that morning for some maddening reasoning, Lan Zhan hadn’t been able to sleep properly for days, the scent leaking into his every dream. He cannot fall into that trap again.
No, he settles into his own bed, and under the sheets for modesty. It’s alarming how fast his fingers open up Tiktok on his phone and navigate to Wei Ying’s profile, to that video. He watches it through three times in a row without blinking.
The lighting is awful, flashing obnoxiously, and the camera angle is not steady but Wei Ying, ah Wei Ying. He’s wearing his tight black jeans – the ones he makes such a scene sliding on most mornings while Lan Zhan averts his eyes. His shirt is a simple black button down, and buttoned down it is . It sits wide open to reveal Wei Ying’s bare chest, covered in a layer of sweat. His face is flushed as it only ever is from heavy drinking. Wei Ying is too shameless to ever blush from embarrassment or modesty.
He’s with a man, a stranger, who is irrelevant. Lan Zhan tries not to focus on them. Instead he watches the stranger’s hand sliding down Wei Ying’s chest, too fast. If it were Lan Zhan’s hand, he’d go slow, revering every inch of skin…not that he’ll ever have the opportunity.
Just before the stranger reaches the (tight!) waistband of Wei Ying’s jeans, they slide their hand around, pulling Wei Ying closer by his ass. Wei Ying makes a face and possibly a noise but the music is too loud to hear what. Lan Zhan aches to know all the noises Wei Ying makes. When Wei Ying bounces back, the slight strain at the groin of his jeans is obvious. Then the video ends. Wei Ying is hard. On his Tiktok. For anyone to see. For Lan Zhan to see. Over and over again.
Lan Zhan places his phone down reluctantly but only for a second so he can unzip his pants. Scandalous. Shameless. Why would anyone post such a video on their public profile for anyone to see?
Except Lan Zhan is hardly without fault. He is the shameless one, using this story as material, as fantasy, as a substitute. It’s crude and immoral, and he shouldn’t objectify anyone like this, but especially not his roommate. Especially not Wei Ying who he sees every day, who should feel safe in this space.
At the first touch of himself, achingly hard from nothing but watching, Lan Zhan feels immense regret. He throws his phone down frustrated, the muffled club audio from the Tiktok still playing in a loop. It doesn’t matter how much he yearns for it, how ridiculously hard he is, he can’t do this. It doesn’t feel right.
“Fuck!” he yells in frustration, throwing his head back against the headboard. “Fuck, shit, damn, fuck.”
“Um. Hi!”
Lan Zhan’s head snaps up so fast he’ll have to fasttrack the next appointment with his physiotherapist. Wei Ying is standing at the door.
The incriminating thump of muffled bass continues to play from Lan Zhan’s discarded phone, marking him as the pervert he is.
“Wei Ying,” he says, frantically grabbing the cursed phone and silencing it, “I can explain.” Seeing the outline of your dick makes me lose all rational thought.
Wei Ying remains frozen at the room’s entrance, the door wide open behind him. He’s going to yell. Or run screaming. Or laugh. Lan Zhan waits for his punishment. For what he deserves for his shameless behaviour. Instead: “How do you know my name?”
Lan Zhan’s momentarily stunned. How could he NOT know Wei Ying’s name? Even if it hadn’t been the name on his mind every morning for years, they’ve been roommates for months now. Of course he knows. But he can’t say that. He never says anything true to Wei Ying.
“You are messy,” he says. Another criticism. Smooth as always, Lan Zhan. “Your papers often slide over to my side.”
“Your side,” Wei Ying repeats mockingly. He collapses onto his own bed and slides his shoes off. “So what are you working on? I’ve never heard you swear. Like ever.”
He doesn’t know. Lan Zhan stares down at himself. His dick is still very much out of his pants, but thankfully hidden to Wei Ying by his covers. But it’s going to be very obvious if he adjusts himself now. He’ll have to sit like this, awkward, shameful and hard until Wei Ying leaves. Except Wei Ying’s already pulling out one of his shameless paperbacks – this one has a shirtless man provocatively posed in a guillotine – and settling on his stomach.
“You’re staying?” Lan Zhan’s voice comes out choked. Wei Ying always has plans on a Friday night. The one night Lan Zhan decides to– The universe must truly hate him.
Wei Ying looks over. “This is my room too, you know.” His eyes flick disparagingly down to the duct tape between them. “I believe you proposed exactly half ownership.” Wei Ying rolls onto his side, planting his book face down. “Which is actually impossible by the way because the floor is slightly slanted so technically your side is…”
Shame floods through Lan Zhan as he stares at Wei Ying. Wei Ying is so vibrant, so lively, so Wei Ying. How could Lan Zhan ever have reduced him to one video?
Wei Ying’s rant trails off. “What’s wrong?” His eyes widen, clearly taking in Lan Zhan’s position under the covers. “Oh my god! Were you…”
Lan Zhan pulls his white bed covers up to his chin. He can feel his ears burning.
Wei Ying jumps to his feet. “You were!” He bursts into laughter. “I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quickly between bouts. “Well, I kinda am. I totally am. I just had this idea of you that was so wrong. I didn’t think you actually you know …” He collapses into more laughter, before chaotically pulling his shoes on. “I’ll go out for a bit. How long do you need? Five minutes? Twenty? No, don’t answer that. I’ll head to the library for the rest of the night. I’m supposed to be studying for a test on Monday anyway. You just...do you.”
Lan Zhan can’t speak. He can only watch, mortified, as Wei Ying continues to laugh and collect his things. At the door, which has been wide open this whole time, Wei Ying turns and fixes Lan Zhan with a smile that’s unbearably kind. Reward. Lan Zhan’s heart clenches and– “Wait, what’s your name by the way?”
The entire world shifts beneath Lan Zhan. His dick literally deflates to flaccidity. It takes all of his composure not to show any devastation in his face. Wei Ying is everything to him, and Wei Ying doesn’t even know his name. Punishment.
The worst part is Lan Zhan knows it’s his own fault. He’s the one who’s been standoffish, rude even. He’s the one who never introduced himself. He takes a breath and tries to keep his voice level.
“Lan Zhan.”
After the incident, Lan Zhan avoids Wei Ying as much as possible. He leaves the room before Wei Ying wakes every day and he studies in the library until bedtime. Still, it’s not enough. Wei Ying’s presence is everywhere, and not just because he can’t keep his mess to his side of the room.
The worst is when Wei Ying slips into bed uncharacteristically early one night, just after nine, before Lan Zhan’s fallen properly asleep. But even as his ears prick up, his every sense drawn to Wei Ying’s arrival, Lan Zhan feigns deep sleep, desperate to avoid any interaction. He listens to the shuffle of sheets as Wei Ying rolls over and over again. If he were bolder, he’d say something comforting. He wouldn’t leave Wei Ying alone in his insomnia. But he’s not bold; he’s just Lan Zhan.
And perhaps this weakness is why the universe punishes him. Again.
A drawer opens slowly and snaps shut with a clear click. Wei Ying giggles. Then worst of all, Wei Ying whispers in a poor impression, “Do not masturbate in the dormroom, Wei Ying.”
Oh god. Wei Ying’s about to…and he’s mocking Lan Zhan. (Not that Lan Zhan ever made such a comment.)
“Oh Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying replies to himself. This is awful. “We both know you’re a dirty hypocrite.” (Again, Lan Zhan has never made any rules about masturbation.)
It’s stiflingly hot under the covers but Lan Zhan’s frozen, staring at the dark ceiling as he listens to every noise coming from Wei Ying’s bed. Though he deliberately does not turn his head to watch, awful degrading images come to his mind to fill in the blanks anyway. He tries to push them away but they come back stronger, dirtier, and in higher definition. I’m sorry, Wei Ying, he thinks. There’s something wrong with me.
The next morning, he resolves to say something. He should have stopped it at the beginning of course, but the least he can do now is give Wei Ying the heads up about the lack of privacy afforded by their room. It is the most respectful thing to do. To stop future…incidents.
Except when he meets Wei Ying in the residential block corridor that morning, Wei Ying’s hair wet from the shower, and his shirt clinging to his chest, Lan Zhan’s brain short-circuits. His long-rehearsed rant about privacy and respect turns into the one crude phrase he promised not to utter:
“Do not masturbate in the dormroom, Wei Ying.”
Lan Zhan hoped a break away from Wei Ying would aid in clearing his mind and restoring sanity, but it does the opposite. Pining after Wei Ying is not nearly as intense as missing Wei Ying. He spends the week with his brother, lovesick confessions spilling out of him like overflowing water. How Wei Ying speaks as if to a rhythm. How Wei Ying smells inexplicably like orange. How Wei Ying always surprises him with a new perspective. How Wei Ying flirts sometimes. How Lan Zhan knows it doesn’t mean anything, but he takes shameful delight in it anyway.
It should be humiliating to share such intimacies with his brother, but being in love brings with it an unfamiliar happiness that longs to be shared. And since it might never be shared with the object of his affections, Lan Zhan’s brother is the unlucky recipient. Not that Lan Huan seems to mind. He encourages the confessions all week, and doesn’t even poke fun when Lan Zhan suggests returning to campus a day early.
The least Lan Zhan can do is host his brother in his room with a quick tea before Lan Huan moves on. He’s returning from the shared kitchen with tea in the university’s awful square mugs, when he hears Wei Ying’s voice. Shouting his name. He doesn’t even feel pain as hot tea dribbles down his hand.
“Oh sorry,” Wei Ying’s voice continues. “I thought you were– actually, apart from the smile, you kinda look like him–”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan interrupts. He stares at the back of Wei Ying’s glossy black hair in the doorway and feels his knees sag subtly in relief. He missed this man so much. “Meet my brother: Lan Huan.”
Wei Ying spins around, his hair whipping across Lan Zhan’s face and leaving the dizzying scent of freshly squeezed orange juice in its wake. And then Lan Zhan’s looking at Wei Ying’s face for the first time in a week and realising he did an awful job of describing it to his brother. How could he mention the dimples but forget to mention the additional lingering wrinkle lines around Wei Ying’s mouth that deepen with every smile?
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says again. (One more time, Lan Zhan urges desperately in his mind. Say my name one more time.) “You’re back. Early.”
Inside the room, Lan Huan chuckles softly. “You’ll have to forgive me for the surprise. I insisted we end our trip short so I could return to work. Luckily, my brother was all too willing to accommodate me so he could begin preparing for classes.” Bless Lan Huan. He’s always been a convincing liar. “However, I was just leaving–”
“Brother,” Lan Zhan complains. He holds up two mismatched mugs above Wei Ying’s head.
“I’m sure Wei Ying would be grateful for a refreshment in my place.” Lan Huan transforms his sly grin into a warm smile as Wei Ying turns back around. “It is very nice to finally make your acquaintance. I can assure you, although it is rare, my brother does smile too and it befits his face more handsomely than mine.”
All goodwill Lan Zhan had toward his brother fades. He never should have mentioned anything about Wei Ying. He never should have confided his inability to be anything but cold and uptight in Wei Ying’s presence. He should’ve remembered Lan Huan takes great delight in meddling.
Lan Huan eyes the duct tape boundary on the floor with a conspicuously raised eyebrow, then slips past Wei Ying to the room’s entrance. He leans into Lan Zhan’s side and whispers “You’re welcome,” in a traitorously smug voice before finally leaving. Lan Zhan resists tripping his brother on the way out.
Wei Ying collapses face-first into his bed and Lan Zhan follows him into the room, stepping over to his own side of the boundary. He holds the two mugs of tea at his chest awkwardly, waiting for the opportunity to offer one to his roommate.
“I haven’t started any of my vacation assignments,” Wei Ying mumbles into his pillow. “And now I’ll get nothing done. I’m such a failure.”
“Wei Ying is not a failure,” Lan Zhan corrects automatically. Wei Ying is perfect. Though he manages to keep his more intense thoughts firmly inside his head, Lan Zhan still silently reprimands himself for letting fondness leak into his voice.
Wei Ying turns his head and looks up, half his face adorably smushed into his pillow. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how I spent the break without you.”
Lan Zhan has a good idea of how Wei Ying spent his time, since he posted a lot of it on Tiktok. Parties most nights. Karaoke. Flirting with strangers. Constant dehydration. But admitting this knowledge would be admitting far more, so Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything. He just holds out one mug across the boundary.
Wei Ying sits up abruptly and immediately accepts the mug. He kicks off his shoes and settles back on his bed, cross-legged. “You didn’t tell me you had a brother,” he says, changing the subject. “He’s very good-looking.”
Lan Zhan mimics Wei Ying’s position on his own bed. “Many people think we look alike,” he says carefully. It’s not untrue, but it is deceptive of him to try and lure Wei Ying into complimenting him. Missing Wei Ying must have taken a great toll on his sanity for Lan Zhan to try something so pathetic.
“I don’t think so,” Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan deflates. “He doesn’t look like he’s going to murder me if I spill this tea on the floor.”
“Do not spill–”
“I’m not going to do it on purpose!”
Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying takes an exaggeratingly slow sip of the tea…and then promptly dribbles it back into the cup. It should be gross. It IS gross. But it’s also cute.
“You don’t like it?”
“No no, it’s fine. Just hot. Although, next time you make it for me–”
Next time.
“–you could make it maybe five times stronger and try adding some fresh lemon or cinnamon. I die for cinnamon in green tea.”
Lan Zhan sets his mug down on the dresser between them; he never bothers with a coaster because the dresser is already irrevocably stained from all the students before them, and, though he would admit it to noone, the rejection of this tiny rule of etiquette secretly thrills him. He leaves the room swiftly, heading to the kitchen on an important mission. Wei Ying’s criticism of his tea doesn’t exactly hurt – he’s been called bland in every way possible before, including by Wei Ying – but he is determined to at least partially satisfy his roommate.
He returns to the room minutes later, a cinnamon stick and a wedge of lemon on a small plate. He’s not expecting to find Wei Ying on his hands and knees, pulling out the giant tub of chilli flakes from under his bed. He clears his throat politely.
Wei Ying snaps his head around, his face red. “Ah, Lan Zhan.” He sits up on his knees. “I wasn’t really going to put chilli in your tea. It’s–” His eyes fall to the plate in Lan Zhan’s hand.
Suddenly Lan Zhan feels silly. Obvious. He shoves the plate ungracefully into Wei Ying’s hands, desperate to cease eye contact, and returns to his bed.
“This is nice,” Wei Ying says, uncharacteristically soft. Lan Zhan does not look over, – he cannot – but his traitorous peripheral vision watches anyway. Wei Ying rolls the tub of chilli back under his bed and gets back on top, all the while staring at Lan Zhan’s plate. Probably working it out. Probably about to call the university supervisor and ask to move rooms. But Wei Ying only sighs and dumps the cinnamon stick into his tea.
“I die for cinnamon,” he repeats.
Lan Zhan hides his smile inside the lip of his mug. He adores Wei Ying’s dramatics. “Do not die in the dormroom.”
Wei Ying giggles, high-pitched and very nearly contagious. Though Lan Zhan’s heard the sound before, memorised the notes of it, he’s never deliberately caused it. He’s barely said anything to Wei Ying besides rules and reprimands. This…this is better.
Lan Zhan feels warm inside, and not just from the tea.
A new semester means all new classes, and more people for Lan Zhan to ignore. It means heightened anxiety, but it also means new thrilling coursework. Lan Zhan is most anticipating his new Animal Conservation class which came highly recommended by Wen Qing.
For the first lecture, he takes his usual spot in the back left corner, furthest from the door. Though he knows he should be studious and take the front row, he discovered in his first year that he prefers a spot where he can take in the entire room, where nobody and nothing can catch him by surprise.
So when Wei Ying strolls into the lecture hall, clad in his infamous leather jacket, Lan Zhan spots him immediately. Sit with me, he thinks furiously, even as he slinks further into his seat so as not to be seen. Notice me. Choose me.
Wei Ying scans the room, waves at someone near the front, and heads towards them. Lan Zhan straightens and returns to setting up his stationary as he fights with the irrational jealousy that flushes through him. Why would he sit with you? You’re not friends. He hardly knows you. You don’t let him know you.
“Lan Zhan! It is you!” Spiced orange overwhelms Lan Zhan as Wei Ying suddenly leans over the back row, draping himself over the back of the neighbouring chair. “I told Jin Zixuan there’s no way my uptight roommate would be sitting in the back row. I guess I don’t really know you, huh? Did you know I was taking this class too?”
Lan Zhan blinks up at Wei Ying and focuses on keeping his facial muscles still. “No, I did not know.”
“Oh I see.” Wei Ying straightens up. “If you’d known, you would have chosen another class, right? Why do you hate me so much?”
“I–” love you . “I do not hate you.”
“Wow, that’s basically a confession of love, coming from you.”
Lan Zhan freezes, losing control of his face. He knew the cinnamon and lemon were too obvious, the love letter within them evident: I crave your happiness. I would do anything for you.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to it,” Wei Ying continues. “I have plenty of other suitors. Speaking of which…” He edges away from Lan Zhan. “ Excuse me–”
“You should be seated already,” rings out a firm authoritative voice from the front of the room.
The professor makes eye contact with Wei Ying and he sheepishly jumps the back row to sink into the chair by Lan Zhan. “I guess you’ll have to put up with me today,” he whispers.
The Professor introduces herself briefly and immediately launches into detailing the coursework. She doesn’t bother with a powerpoint presentation like most teachers and for this, Lan Zhan is grateful. She gets straight to the point and doesn’t waste time.
Wei Ying sighs and leans into Lan Zhan’s side. The warmth of his body makes Lan Zhan shiver. “This is so boring,’ he says. “You know, some of us are visual learn–”
“You, in the back,” the professor calls out, one arm outstretched to point firmly at Wei Ying, “do you have something to say?”
“Yes, actually–”
“It was my fault, professor,” Lan Zhan quickly lies. Protect Wei Ying his monkey brain yells. Protect Wei Ying. “I accidentally elbowed him. He will be quiet now.”
Then, he really does elbow Wei Ying. (“Hey!” “Shhh.”) Gently, of course. He’s been excited to start this class all year. He will not be distracted into more <95% grades by his lovesick monkey brain.
Lan Zhan listens to the rest of the professor’s speech intently, trying not to pay attention to the restless shuffling and regular sighs from his side. His shoulders sit uncomfortably tight from the effort of it all.
At last when her discussion of coursework is complete, the professor asks the class to split into groups of two for the first assignment. Lan Zhan immediately stands and surveys the room, desperately searching to catch anyone’s eyes but Wei Ying’s.
Wei Ying, still seated, tugs at his sleeve. “You’re being very rude, you know. Anyone would think you didn’t want to be my partner.”
Reward or punishment? Lan Zhan can’t keep track anymore. He sits back down and slowly turns towards Wei Ying. “We will need to agree on an animal.”
Wei Ying scrunches his nose. “She said to do introductions first.”
Lan Zhan stares at Wei Ying silently. I’ve known you for two and a half years now, he wants to scream.
“Okay I’ll go first,’ Wei Ying says, folding his legs onto the seat. “I’m Wei Ying and I like getting drunk, spicy foods, karaoke, Prince obviously, Saweetie, Lady Gaga, getting caught in the rain but NOT pina coladas ew, climbing trees, The Witcher, Game of Thrones but only if Dany wins – NO SPOILERS PLEASE – reading but only steamy romances if you know what I mean...um...I also kinda like horror movies but I have to have the lights on, and–”
“Wei Ying.” I know all this.
“Oh yeah, sorry, I’m hogging intro time. Your turn.”
“My name is Lan Zhan,” Lan Zhan says, while he desperately tries to think of any facts other than: I am in love with you. “I am 20 years old.” Good, that’s a normal thing to say. “I was born on January 23rd at 2.03am.” This isn’t too hard at all. “I am 188 centimetres tall.”
“Ew, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying shakes his head but he’s smiling. “Don’t tell me facts. Tell me something not boring! What do you like?”
Wei Ying. “I…” Lan Zhan starts, but his throat is dry, and he has no idea what to say. What do I like? What do I like?
“Music? Games? Books? I know you like reading, any particular genre?”
You know this answer, Lan Zhan. Be normal. Lan Zhan clears his throat. “Non fiction.”
Wei Ying nods kindly. “That’s such a you answer, I love it.” He loves it. “What about…are there any foods you like or –I don’t know– seasons?”
“I prefer Autumn,” Lan Zhan says carefully. He thinks it’s a good answer but–
Wei Ying’s smile widens. Good. Good. “Why?”
“Oh.” Lan Zhan thinks about it. His face heats as he realises what he’s about to say, but he wants to tell Wei Ying anyway. “I like the way fallen leaves crunch under my feet.”
“Oh my god, yes!” Wei Ying bounces in his seat. “Isn’t it so satisfying!?”
Lan Zhan concentrates very hard on holding back a smile. “Mn,” he says carefully.
“Alright, that’s it for today,” the professor announces. “If you don’t have a partner yet, come and see me.”
The assignment. Lan Zhan completely forgot. “We still have to choose an animal,” he says quickly before Wei Ying can run off to his real friends.
Wei Ying slides his bag over his shoulder. “Now you get to spend even more time with me outside class. Aren’t you SO excited?”
“Mn.”
“Did you know there are this many endangered animals?” Wei Ying flicks through the library book, his loose hair almost covering his eyes. “I thought there would be like ten to choose from? This is so hard.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees, but he doesn’t share that the experience is hard for him for a different reason. They’re sitting on the floor of a library aisle – Wei Ying’s idea of course – with their legs bunched up and their shoulders touching. It’s impossible to be productive in this position. Not to mention Wei Ying is wearing a sleeveless top, so it’s his naked shoulder that presses into Lan Zhan. Yes, of course, Lan Zhan is wearing a t-shirt and a cardigan but he can still feel the nakedness of it through two layers of cotton.
Lan Zhan shuffles a little away from Wei Ying’s shoulder, attempting to concentrate. Pathetic, he thinks to himself. You can’t even cope with his shoulder. “ I have a suggestion.”
“Yeah?”
Lan Zhan carefully picks up the book from Wei Ying’s legs. He checks the index, opens the book to the corresponding page, then places it back in place, all without touching any part of Wei Ying.
“Oh my god,” Wei Ying says, as he tucks hair behind his ear, “Bunnies are endangered???”
“Only some breeds, like the Riverine–”
“But how can bunnies be endangered? They’re always you know…”
Wei Ying trails off. Lan Zhan waits.
“Getting it on!” Wei Ying makes a crude gesture with his hands that resembles humping. Punishment. “Rabbits breed like rabbits!!!” He bursts into laughter, his dimples popping out in full force. Reward.
Lan Zhan watches greedily until Wei Ying’s laughter peeters out and the dimples disappear. Then he looks away in shame. It’s rude to stare. You’re so creepy. “They have low survival rates.”
“Oh that’s so sad. Is that why they have sex so much? To keep replenishing their family? Wow, so sad, Lan Zhan. I’m glad I’m not a bunny rabbit. I mean I wouldn’t mind the getting it on part…”
Do not think about it. Do not think about it.
“Come on Lan Zhan, crack a smile. Just once for me.” Wei Ying leans over, pushing his naked shoulder back into Lan Zhan’s. “I bet you look real pretty when you smile.”
Annoying my pretty roommate check!
Lan Zhan’s brain short circuits at the word pretty once more. He never cared much about how he looked until Wei Ying called him pretty in that Tiktok. Now if he just smiles, there’s the promise he might hear it again. It’s tempting. There’s always a smile lurking in him when he’s around Wei Ying. All he would have to do is stop hiding it.
But that would be telling. And Wei Ying can never know how he feels.
“Is the topic acceptable?” Lan Zhan asks instead.
“Bunnies?” Wei Ying beams. “If Lan Zhan wants to do bunnies, I want to do bunnies.”
Wei Ying is particularly studious when he’s focused on a project. It’s Lan Zhan that is slacking on the work, spending more time staring at Wei Ying reading than actually reading himself. Get a grip, lovesick boy , he tells himself. Then, Don’t ever call me lovesick boy again , he further tells himself.
“Can I have the book on Black Eagles again?” Wei Ying asks distractedly. He’s lying on his bed, on his stomach, his head deep in another book and his legs lifted and crossed at the ankles.
Immediately, Lan Zhan stands up and brings the book he was supposed to be reading (but hasn’t looked at in twenty minutes) to Wei Ying. Wei Ying’s eyes flick up as he reaches for the book. Then he gasps.
“You crossed it!” He bounces to his knees on the bed, the book forgotten. “You crossed the boundary!”
Lan Zhan looks down. Both his feet are on Wei Ying’s side of the duct tape. How strange. He hadn’t even noticed. “Wei Ying, you asked me to pass you the book.”
Wei Ying shrugs, grinning. “You could have thrown it.”
The suggestion is so repulsive to Lan Zhan, it almost distracts him from Wei Ying’s dimples. Almost. “These are library books.”
“Whatever. You crossed the boundary. You broke the rules.” Wei Ying’s grin turns wicked. “You should be punished.”
Reward. Definitely reward. Lan Zhan schools his face into indifference. “How will I be punished?” This is flirting. I am flirting. Fuck, I’m flirting.
“Hmm.” Wei Ying sits back on his legs and crosses his arms. “What’s a usual punishment for breaking the rules in your family?”
Lan Zhan’s suppressed glee turns into suppressed pain.
“Oh, sorry,” Wei Ying says almost immediately. “That was rude. You don’t have to say. My family isn’t– well just my foster mum, I guess. That’s why I’m living here. She finally kicked me out.”
Lan Zhan remembers Wei Ying’s poorly packed suitcase at the start of the school year. He cringes as he recalls criticising it. No wonder Wei Ying hated him. He probably still hates you.
“Your parents…” Lan starts, then falters. He’s always wanted to ask, but he’s never felt close enough to Wei Ying to be entitled to know.
“My parents died when I was like three, maybe four? I don’t really remember. And there’s nobody to ask.”
Lan Zhan nods. “My father died last year and my mother left when I was young.”
“Oh I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. Is that why you’re here? No offence but you don’t seem like the living-on-campus type.”
“I wanted to get away from my uncle.”
“And now you’re stuck with me.” Wei Ying starts to smile again. “Hey, pass me that book on falcons, too.”
He makes Lan Zhan cross the duct tape boundary another five times for increasingly arbitrary reasons. Lan Zhan obliges of course because Wei Ying’s attention, even when teasing, is decidedly more reward than punishment.
Lan Zhin sits on the edge of his bed, hands gripped on the underside tightly. He’s going to hate it. He’s going to laugh. He’s going to know why.
Wei Ying doesn’t notice when he enters the room. “Somebody left a shoe on the stairs. A Shoe!” He dives head first onto his bed as is his style, then turns his face to Lan Zhan. “Do you think it’s a protest? Should we be leaving our shoes too?”
Act normal. Act normal. “Why would it be a protest?”
“I don’t know. The stairs–” Wei Ying stops, his eyes focusing in on the window, then the floor, then flicking up to Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan breathes in. He’s rehearsed this. “It–”
Wei Ying jumps to his feet and raises a hand in silence. He keeps it up as he uses his other hand to dislodge his phone from his jeans and pull it to his ear.
Without removing his eyes from Lan Zhan, he talks into the phone. “He’s removed the tape.” There’s a pause, then:
“Huaisang, I don’t care if you’re hooking up. This is important. I just came back to our room and it’s completely gone.”
…
“He’s sitting on his bed.”
…
“Yes I’m talking in front of him.”
…
“Huaisang!” (Wei Ying looks away and lowers his voice.) “I’m not going to sleep in Lan Zhan’s bed again!”
…
“Shut up. I’m hanging up now.”
Wei Ying throws his phone onto the bed and looks back at Lan Zhan. His cheeks are flushed. “Why?” he finally asks.
“It did not appear to be working.”
Wei Ying laughs. Then, he dramatically steps over to what was previously Lan Zhan’s side and sits down on Lan Zhan’s bed, leaving a small gap between them. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”
Lan Zhan thinks about his answer. Is it acceptable to agree? Is it acceptable to get something he wants so badly? Is it what Wei Ying wants? He sneaks a glance at Wei Ying beside him and his eyes zero in on the closest dimple. “Mn.”
“Oh my god!” Wei Ying jumps up. “This is a groundbreaking moment. Can I put it on instagram?” he asks, already grabbing his phone. He returns to Lan Zhan’s side and throws an arm over his shoulder.
Lan Zhan stares up at the phone held in Wei Ying’s other hand, pointing down at them. Wei Ying is beaming. Lan Zhan shifts his expression into mild content. He hopes this conveys friendship adequately.
Wei Ying withdraws his arm from Lan Zhan’s shoulder but doesn’t move away. He types on his phone, adding very small text over Lan Zhan’s shirt: #mynewfriendlanzhan
Lan Zhan stares at the words until Wei Ying posts the story and it disappears from the screen.
“So,” Wei Ying says, throwing his phone back onto the other bed. “You have any other friends here?”
“No.” I’m difficult to like.
“Why not?”
Say something cool. “I am focusing on study.”
“Right, good. That’s good. If you ever want to hang out though, you could sit with me and my friends at lunch.”
Yes. Please. “I study at lunch.”
“Oh and you should come out with us tonight!”
YES. “I am studying tonight.”
Wei Ying shrugs and returns to his own bed. “Then I’ll study too,” he says, already pulling a book from his bag.
A small tightness in Lan Zhan’s chest eases its hold. “You’re not going out with your friends?”
“Nah.” Wei Ying smiles. “I’m staying-in with my friend. We can study together! I’m still finishing my parts in our bunny project. I wanna do you proud.”
Lan Zhan’s lips betray him, slipping into a small smile, but he catches himself before Wei Ying sees. Lan Huan has been right all these years: it’s nice to have a friend.
“We rocked it!” Wei Ying whispers. “We were the best here. If that doesn’t get one hundo, then the professor has no taste.”
We were the best, Lan Zhan silently agrees, but to Wei Ying he whispers, “Be respectful to the other groups.”
Wei Ying leans in closer. “But ours was the best so far, right?”
Humility is a virtue, Lan Zhan thinks, but to Wei Ying he offers a very small nod.
“Yesssss!” Wei Ying claps Lan Zhan on the back. “I’m so buzzed! We should celebrate!”
Lan Zhan keeps his eyes on the team still presenting at the front of the lecture hall, even as he senses Wei Ying turning completely to face him. “Be respectful to the other groups,” he says again, but secretly he prefers Wei Ying looking at him.
“Lan Zhan, I’m serious! We have to go out. Oh my god, I have the best idea!”
“Shhh,” Lan Zhan says gently, but he doesn’t mind when Wei Ying continues anyway.
“Okay, hear me out, there’s this karaoke bar just outside campus. It sounds silly but it’s so much fun. And you don’t have to sing if you don’t want to. It’s fully optional.”
There’s nothing Lan Zhan wants to do more. So of course he says nothing.
“The only tiny little thing is that it doesn’t really get good until like ten. I know that’s past your bedtime but it’s worth it and this is a celebration. Ooh! You could even have a nap now to make up for it and then meet me there. Yes, that is a great idea! I am so smart! I’ll write the address on your arm.”
Lan Zhan instinctively pulls his arm back from the armrest between them. Avoiding Wei Ying’s touch has greatly improved his reflexes.
“Or on your notebook,” Wei Ying adds, though his voice is notably less enthusiastic than before.
Lan Zhan brings his arm back into Wei Ying’s range and holds it out for the taking. He might as well get on one knee given how obvious he is.
Wei Ying’s hand clasps Lan Zhan’s forearm, holding it steady as he writes over Lan Zhan’s wrist. Can he feel my pulse bursting through my skin? Relax, Lan Zhan. Friends touch each other. This is normal. You’re the weird one making it weird.
“Done,” Wei Ying announces. “It’s a date!”
Lan Zhan looks down to Wei Ying’s messy scrawl on his arm. There’s a heart next to the address. A heart. Do not faint.
Lan Zhan doesn’t nap. He gets in bed but all he can do is roll back and forth. Notably, he spends much more time on his left side so he can stare at the heart on his right arm. Just before ten, he freshens his clothes and heads out.
Flashing pink lights assault Lan Zhan as he enters the dingy bar. It’s bigger than it looks from the outside but it still has a cramped atmosphere. He recognises a lot of students from the same university in the packed entranceway.
“You came!” Wei Ying pops up next to Lan Zhan. His shirt is almost completely unbuttoned. Lan Zhan thinks back to the Tiktok. Is this where…?
No. Focus. Be normal.
“ You invited me. Did you not want me to come?”
“Hahaha, you’re so funny Lan Zhan. We should have been friends sooner.” Wei Ying hooks his arm around Lan Zhan’s and leads him through the throng of bodies to a slightly less packed table area. Lan Zhan recognises Wei Ying’s brother, Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying’s best friend Nie Huaisang, as well as Wei Qing and her brother Wen Ning. He’s never actually seen Wen Ning before but the family resemblance is obvious.
He allows himself one second of mourning that Wei Ying didn’t actually invite him out on a date. It’s your fault for reading into a single heart like a teenager. Then he schools his face into a pleasant expression for the inevitable introductions.
“Everyone, this is my roommate, Lan Zhan. He doesn’t usually stay up past nine so it’s a very big deal he has chosen to hang out with us tonight. Be nice.”
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “You be nice.”
“Wei Ying is always nice,” says Lan Zhan quickly.
Jiang Cheng bursts out laughing. Lan Zhan stares at him. He stops laughing and scowls into his beer. “I thought he was joking.”
“Shut up. I am nice. Thank you Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying turns briefly to smile at Lan Zhan. Beautiful. “Anyway the rude one is my brother Jiang Cheng. Don’t talk to him if you want to have a good night. This is Wen Qing, the smartest person you will ever meet, but don’t cross her, or you will die.”
“I’ve known Lan Zhan longer than you, loser,” Wen Qing says to Wei Ying. To Lan Zhan, she sticks out her tongue.
“Yeah, well I live with him!” Wei Ying retorts, and Lan Zhan quietly preens at the hint of jealousy in his voice. Even if it's just in friendship, Lan’s Zhan’s never had anyone fight over him before and he quite likes it.
“And,” Wei Ying continues in a slightly haughtier tone, “this is her brother Wen Ning who is the kindest person you will ever meet, even if you cross him. But rest assured if that happens, both Wen Qing and I will do the killing on his behalf.”
“I could handle it myself,” Wen Qing interjects while her brother beams up at Lan Zhan.
“Last and certainly least…” Wei Ying continues.
“Hey!”
“...is Nie Huaisang, my best friend. If I hadn’t met him on the first day of uni, I’d have been so lonely, I would’ve already dropped out by now.”
Jiang Cheng looks up from his beer. “What about me–”
“But,” Wei Ying continues, turning to Lan Zhan, “that was before I knew I would be rooming with you this year of course.”
Do not blush, Lan Zhan thinks desperately but he feels his face heat all the same.
“Oh my god, where are my manners? You need a drink already. Wait here.” Wei Ying pushes him down into an empty seat and darts off through the crowd.
Lan Zhan watches him go fondly. Something soft hits him in the shoulder and he turns back to the group to find a cocktail umbrella in his lap.
“So,” Wen Qing says across the table, “how long have you been dating?”
Lan Zhan swallows. “We aren’t– we’re not–”
“Since you’ve been fucking then,” Wen Qing adds impatiently. She waves a hand. “I don’t care about the labels.”
You’re so obvious, Lan Zhan. Everybody knows. “We’re not fucking either,” he says clearly.
“Hmmm,” Wen Qing says cryptically, then falls back into her seat.
Jiang Cheng huffs. “What are you talking about? They don’t even like each other.”
“I like Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says before he can stop himself. Is that a normal thing to say? Friends like each other. Wait, but do friends say they like each other?
“ Then you have bad taste,” Jiang Cheng says. He lowers his voice so only Lan Zhan can hear. “But don’t fucking hurt him.”
“Here,” Wei Ying says, holding a glass over Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “I picked you as a classy white wine kind of guy. Was I right?”
Lan Zhan accepts the glass and places it on the table. “I don’t drink.”
“Oh,” Wei Ying’s head hovers at Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “Like at all? Are you sure?”
“Wei Ying!” admonishes Wen Qing.
“Yes, I am sure.”
“Right, sorry.” Wei Ying leans over Lan Zhan’s shoulder, draping his entire body against Lan Zhan’s back. What is happening. What is happening. Wei Ying picks up the glass, and throws it back in a couple of gulps. “Oh that is disgusting.” He pushes away from Lan Zhan’s back. “You made the right choice. I am so sorry I bought that for you.”
“Don’t pretend like you spent money,” Jiang Cheng says sourly. “Bartenders always give you free drinks.”
“She’s been giving ME free drinks,” Wei Ying corrects. “Apparently the offer does not extend to my friends, even the equally good looking ones.” He nudges Lan Zhan. Equally good-looking. “I think she’s jealous. Shame, I thought she’d be up for a threesome.”
Lan Zhan can’t help his mouth falling open. He closes it instantly. Luckily Wei Ying is behind him so doesn’t see.
“He’s joking,” Wen Qing says to Lan Zhan, smirking. She saw. She saw. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Excuse you, I am perfectly serious. If the opportunity presented itself, I am not against–”
Jiang Cheng groans. “Please shut up. Every time you open your mouth, your roommate looks like he’s about to have a stroke.”
Lan Zhan neutralises his face, his posture, his everything. Has he always been this obvious?
“His name is Lan Zhan, thank you very much. And he’s very hard to read so if I, having known him for months, can’t tell what he’s thinking, then neither can you.”
Lan Zhan relaxes. Slightly.
Wei Ying bends down by Lan Zhan’s side. “Ignore him. I always do. What do you drink? Juice? Coke? Wait, sparkling water right? You’re so fancy. I’m going to get you a sparkling water.”
“Who’s the bartender tonight?” Nie Huaisang asks as Wei Ying disappears.
“The hot one with piercings,” Wen Qing answers instantly.
Nie Huaisang chuckles. “No wonder Wei Ying keeps going back, hey?”
Lan Zhan looks down at the heart on his arm, suddenly feeling very silly. You’re friends, he tells himself. Get it in your head. Just friends.
When Wei Ying returns, he sits by Lan Zhan’s side, pressed close, and often leans even further in to talk past Lan Zhan and steal everyone else’s drinks. Lan Zhan endures it quietly, painfully. The worst is when Wei Ying laughs by his ear, at the latest bad karaoke performer, or at his friends and as the night latens, or just because.
During a weak but sweet karaoke rendition of Die with a Smile, Wei Ying drops his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder.
Stay still. Do not panic.
“Are you having a good time?” Wei Ying asks softly. “If you’re not having a good time I can pretend to be drunk so you have to take me safely back to our room?”
Lan Zhan breathes in Wei Ying’s hair. It’s muddled with smoke and sweat, but he can still smell the orange of Wei Ying’s shampoo through it all. “You are drunk already.”
“Pfft, this is nothing. Once we went to four bars and a club in one night and–”
“–you vomited in your bed,” Lan Zhan finishes.
“Oh yeah, I forgot you were there for the end of that. It’s actually not a very good story is it?”
I would listen to you recite the Fibonacci sequence. Lan Zhan detangles himself from Wei Ying and stands up. “If you are not drunk enough, I will get you another drink.”
Wei Ying tugs him back down. “No no, I got this. Look at my face.” He cradles his face with both hands and pouts. “I always get free drinks.”
Jealousy twirls nastily in Lan Zhan’s stomach. Before he can convince himself not to, Lan Zhan follows Wei Ying to the bar.
The bartender with piercings is easy to spot. Her hair is shaved on one side, showing off the piercings from her inner ear, all the way back around to her earlobes. She leans over the bar as Wei Ying approaches, her scowl turning immediately into a smile. Wei Ying leans in too.
Lan Zhan gets closer, his whole body humming with negative energy.
“If you weren’t so pretty,” Wei Ying is saying, “I wouldn’t have to stop by so often.”
The bartender rolls her eyes, but she’s obviously charmed. Lan Zhan understands. Being called pretty by Wei Ying is life-changing.
“The same again?” she asks.
“Unless you have something sweeter to share.”
The bartender leans back and makes eye contact with Lan Zhan hovering behind. She keeps looking at him as she expertly starts on Wei Ying’s drink.
This is Wei Ying’s type, Lan Zhan thinks. I can pierce my ears. Another voice chimes in: But you can’t change your personality.
The bartender’s eyebrows furrow as she grabs the soda gun. “Who’s your friend?” she asks.
Wei Ying turns around, spots Lan Zhan, smiles, and drags him up to the bar. “This is my roommate.”
That’s all you are, Lan Zhan. Roommates. Get it in your head.
The bartender stiffens. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise he was your roommate.”
“Yeah, he’s my roommate,” Wei Ying repeats.
“Good for you.” She places a glass on the bartop. “That’ll be twelve dollars.”
“But…wait…”
Lan Zhan passes his card to the bartender and, desperate to get the word ‘roommates’ out of his head, picks up Wei Ying’s drink. He ignores Wei Ying’s squeals and downs it completely in one chug. Whatever it is, it burns and immediately makes Lan Zhan want to throw up. But it’s the distraction he needs, from Wei Ying, from his heart, from his stupid head. Heat fills his chest, and just for a second it overpowers the tightness that lives there. Lan Zhan smiles to himself and wanders into the crowd.