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“I mean, I know gay people exist!” Wei Ying says, confidently. “I’ve known for years! But this coworker, I mean it’s the first time I’ve known one, right? I just keep thinking about her, it’s just. I mean she’s so cool! Good for her! And also it’s, well, weird, you know?”
Lan Wangji has waited very patiently through this whole spiel. He has not interrupted. It has been excruciating.
“Wei Ying,” he says, now that there is an opening. “I am gay.”
He thinks he sees the exact moment that Wei Ying short-circuits. He watches him gape, blink, gape some more, and takes quiet pleasure in the fact that he is here now. That he can be the one to surprise Wei Ying. It was the other way around, back in the first few years of their acquaintance. Before fate pulled them away from each other for years. He is pleased to be here again, able to display his quiet new confidence.
It is not, quite, the first time he has said the words aloud. There was a queer meet up, in his last year of undergrad. A few other times, in sufficiently supportive circumstances. Enough that he knew his voice would be steady, even to this emblem of his past. Even with the person who precipitated this whole course of self-examination.
“Wait,” Wei Ying says, finally. “For real?”
“Mmn,” Lan Wangji says steadily.
“I— what? Since when? How did I not — I mean. Uh, that’s great? I support you? Is it, uh, difficult?”
This is mildly excruciating, but also quite a relief. “I have known for almost ten years,” he says, ignoring the ham-fisted mention of support. Coming out? Absolutely. Discussing the emotion involved with the love of his life, who is the kind of straight person who feels the need to assert that they are to everyone around constantly? Terrible.
“What? You mean you’ve been gay the whole time I’ve known you? And I didn’t realize?”
Theoretically, he has been gay his entire life. In his experience, he has been gay since three weeks after he met Wei Ying, when the idea that all he felt for the other boy was an overpowering annoyance grew untenable. Neither of these answers appeal. “I did not publicize it, at the time.”
“Huh. Huh. So you’re like, gay-gay?”
What does that even mean, Lan Wangji wonders. What is he after? “Technically, homosexual demiromantic gray asexual, to the best of my understanding.”
Wei Ying blinks. It is always satisfying to make him shut up for a moment. “What?”
“‘Queer’ works as well. Or, yes, ‘gay-gay’.”
“No but, what were all those extra words? I mean, homosexual I know — am I allowed to say it? Is that a problem? — But…. Demi-whatsit?”
“Demiromantic. Romantic attraction happens only after an emotional bond.” It’s the closest term he found in all his research for that moment, months into their friendship, when Wei Ying casually referenced some tiny fact he’d learned about Lan Wangji from who-knows-where, and Lan Wangji suddenly realized he would follow him anywhere. “Gray asexual means sexual attraction occurs only in rare or specific circumstances.”
He watches carefully as Wei Ying thinks about that, eyebrows furrowed. It would be possible, Lan Wangji thinks, to unravel this set of words and see his true feelings. His brother would no doubt do so immediately. He hopes Wei Ying will not. It seems a safe bet.
“So… Wait, romantic and sexual attraction are different?” Wei Ying asks, finally. “Like, they’re different things? What’s that about? I mean, people talk about attraction all as one thing, but you mean… What, some parts can be broken, at first?”
“Not broken. Partitioned, sometimes. Romantic, sexual, aesthetic, platonic. Everyone experiences them differently.”
Wei Ying stares off into the distance. “Wild. Wild.” He keeps staring for a moment, then pulls out his phone. “Hang on, I’m looking this stuff up, that’s so neat. Give me a second.”
He subsides into a frantic Google binge, and Lan Wangji relaxes a little, watching him. This idea, being seen, being known, terrified him once upon a time. It settles something in his heart, being here. Wei Ying’s utter bafflement was more amusing than anything else. His interest and initiative in learning about it are encouraging. He will be a better ally for knowing, Lan Wangji thinks. It feels nice to make such an impact on his friend, his love. He has made long made peace with Wei Ying’s inability to reciprocate his feelings, with being in love with someone tragically straight. He decided years before that he would not burden Wei Ying with his own wishes for the impossible. But it feels good to let the conclusions of himself be known. It feels good to let Wei Ying know, in some capacity, how he has changed Lan Wangji. It is enough for peace —
“Holy shit,” Wei Ying says, still scrolling. “I know nothing about attraction. Like. Nothing. Am I even sexually attracted to girls? Wild.”
— What.
He waits a good three seconds, to ensure control of his face, then asks, “What?”
He’s pretty sure his inner turmoil isn’t obvious in the question.
Wei Ying certainly seems unaffected as he continues staring at his phone screen. “I mean, girls are really pretty, you know? And they’re great. I like flirting with them! But, like…” He sneaks a look at Lan Wangji, then stares at his screen again fixedly. “I, uh, never actually met one I wanted to do anything else with? Now I think about it? I mean. Uh.” He’s still failing to make eye contact. Lan Wangji can watch him safely, without worrying about what he might be showing.
“You have dated,” he says, carefully. Actions do not equal attraction, of course. He will tell Wei Ying that himself, in a moment. But first, he is curious.
“Back in high school, yeah. And a couple times since, when I was asked out, I guess? It was fun! But…” He flicks his thumb, moving to a different part of the page. “I literally had never thought about what it would be like to kiss them? When they asked me? Is that actually a thing people do? On dates? Think about kissing?”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, trying not to get distracted by the thought of what it’d be like to kiss Wei Ying.
“Huh. Yeah. Okay. Uh. Huh. So that was. Maybe. Only platonic attraction to everyone I’ve ever dated, ever. I think.” He stands up abruptly and starts pacing. “Um. Holy shit.”
Lan Wangji watches. He wonders if there are helpful guides on what to do when your own stressful coming-out moment is interrupted by your confidant’s own queer crisis. If there are, his research has never uncovered them. It seems an incredibly important oversight, now.
“I mean, I guess I always just figured I’d meet a girl eventually,” Wei Ying is saying, a frantic note to his voice. “You know, just… Find the one, eventually. Wasn’t in a hurry, you know? But. Uh. It’s weird, isn’t it, that I haven’t. Actually. Been attracted to any girls. By this point. Well into my twenties.”
“It is atypical,” Lan Wangji says. “According to all research I’ve seen.”
“Huh. Okay. So I could be….” He scrolls, frantically.
“Aromantic, asexual, or both, depending on your exact experiences,” Lan Wangji supplies, helpfully. He is fairly certain his internal screams are not showing on his face.
“Yeah! Those!” Wei Ying stops, takes a breath, and sighs. “Huh. Asexual. Aromantic. Huh.”
Lan Wangji will recover from this, he knows. One incompatible orientation is not materially different from another. At least this way, he will not have to be quietly supportive as Wei Ying eventually falls in love with someone else. It is, nevertheless, the worst outcome he can possibly imagine for Wei Ying having a queer awakening as a result of his own choice to come out.
“Congratulations,” he forces himself to say, “On the self-discovery.”
Wei Ying does not look pleased with the situation. This is unexpected. Lan Wangji remembers finding proper labels as a deep relief, a sense that other people matched his experience. Wei Ying, on the other hand, comes and sits down, staring at his phone again, looking dejected.
Lan Wangji waits.
“I’m. I guess it’s good I know this, right? Let me make better choices, going forward. It’s good to. It’s good to understand, why I never particularly wanted to date anyone that asked me out. That’s good.”
He is trying to talk himself into the idea. Lan Wangji continues waiting.
“I just —“ He looks up, suddenly, meeting Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Lan Zhan, I really did want to get married.” He sounds forlorn, lost. “I mean. You remember, I talked about inviting you to a farm, someday? And like.” He shifts, uncomfortably, curling his arms around himself. Lan Wangji wants to hug him, comfort him. He does not know how. “I never pictured a specific wife, but I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”
Lan Wangji remembers the fantasy Wei Ying had described. It had been so casually referenced, the idea of a little farm and lots of children running around and food cooking inside. It’s featured heavily in his own fantasies, since, when he allows himself to forget that he was invited only as an interloper.
“Action does not equal attraction,” he tells Wei Ying, quietly. “You may yet find a… wife. It might require negotiation.”
“Maybe. But like, how do you know when you’ve found someone you’d be willing to spend your life with, if you don’t have the whole true love thing to work with? I mean, you were the only specific person I ever put anywhere near that whole dream. I can’t think of anyone I know who’d be… who’d fit…” He trails off, thinking.
Lan Wangji looks away, breathing through the emotional turmoil of that. He knows Wei Ying doesn’t mean it like Lan Wangji wishes he did. He’s as good as saying he can’t picture Lan Wangji there all the time, can’t see him as a true life partner of any sort. Lan Wangji will respect that. Of course he will. None of this is about him.
“How did you even figure all this out?” Wei Ying asks, suddenly, and Lan Wangji flinches. Wei Ying plows ahead without noticing. “I mean, there’s so many terms here, and I don’t know — maybe I’m just overthinking everything! I like thinking about sex, I like the idea of kissing! But apparently not like everyone else does? How did you ever sort all this out?”
It was the best words for how I felt about you, Lan Wangji thinks but does not say. It was the only way to make sense of the intensity and specificity of his feelings. How can he help, when Wei Ying’s problem is not knowing, instead of knowing too much?
“I mean,” Wei Ying continues, not waiting for any sort of response, “I mean, like, sure I’ve contemplated kissing people in the past. Specific people, even! I mean, I’ve thought about kissing you, who hasn’t, obviously, that’s just… That’s just part of friendship, isn’t it?”
Lan Wangji stares. All of his deep, meditative thoughts are crumpling around him. He cannot feel any part of his body. He cannot interpret any of this. If he tries, he may actually explode.
“Oooookay you’re looking at me weirdly,” Wei Ying says from very far away and also about two feet from Lan Wangji’s face. It should be farther. It should be much less. How can he cope with any of this. “So what you’re saying is that imagining kissing isn’t a normal part of any close friendship.”
How is Lan Wangji supposed to answer that? It’s certainly a normal part of his closest friendships. Friendship. Singular.
Wei Ying laughs, high and strained. “I don’t suppose we can just forget about what I just said, move back to. Uh. Some other topic? Um.”
Lan Wangji physically cannot. He thinks his entire brain has rewired itself to play “I’ve thought about kissing you” on repeat. He cannot think of anything else well enough to respond. He cannot muster the strength to echo it.
“Maybe I should just. Just go? Sorry, I know I made things weird, I wouldn’t blame—“
“Don’t,” Lan Wangji says. It’s spoken on instinct, from the part of his brain that never want Wei Ying to leave, the part that he overrules minute by minute when he has any brainpower left over for it.
“Uh. Okay, Lan Zhan.” He looks nervous, Lan Wangji notes. He should say something to reassure Wei Ying. That sounds good.
“You’ve thought about kissing me,” he says instead. Hmm.
Wei Ying avoids his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah? I… I didn’t think that was a big deal but. Now I’m also kind wondering if… a lot of other. Things. I’ve thought about aren’t exactly. Well. Oh, I don’t know. They’re my problem, I guess. I already made things weird enough.”
“What things,” he says.
Wei Ying looks at him, eyes wide.
Lan Wangji struggles to gather his words. “I want. To hear. Your thoughts.” His hands are curled into fists so tightly they hurt. “Always,” he adds.
“Lan Zhan, no, I’ve already made you uncomfortable enough, I wouldn’t want to —“
“I am not uncomfortable.” He hesitates, and self-evaluates. “Or. That is not my primary emotion.”
“Confused you, then.”
And he can’t quite dispute that one. He is confused. He is dumbfounded, and… It takes a long moment to sort through everything else and identify the most prominent emotion.
“Yes,” he says, finally. “But I am also hopeful.”
That finally leaves Wei Ying speechless. It is nice to turn the tables again. He waits, in silence.
“What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he finally says, weakly. “What the fuck do you have to be hopeful about.”
“You asked about how I figured my identity out.” Lan Wangji says. He can see the shape of the conversation again, he thinks. He does not know the end, but he is hopeful.
“We’re well past that!” Wei Ying says. “That was before I — before — Before —“
“I found the terms,” Lan Wangji says, ploughing ahead heedlessly, “because they best described how much I wanted to kiss you, Wei Ying.”
He has flabbergasted Wei Ying again. He savors it, watching Wei Ying blink and gape and wave one hand wildly. Finally, Wei Ying opens his mouth, and quietly says “Wanted? Past tense?”
“Want,” he admits. It comes easily, in spite of everything. Years of hidden pining, all leading to this one needle-point admission.
Wei Ying stares at him. It’s easy to meet his eyes.
He’s scared, of course he’s scared. He’s on tenterhooks, waiting for the response. But he has had no hope, no reason to say anything, sometimes not even a chance — and now he has them all.
“What the fuck,” Wei Ying finally says, “is this conversation.”
Lan Wangji inclines his head in agreement.
“I mean seriously, what the fuck. I mean this started with me mentioning a gay person at work and now you’re… we’re…. I’m….” He shies away from saying what, exactly, any of these pronouns are doing, which Lan Wangji thinks is deeply unfortunate. He, himself, has been uncomfortably vulnerable multiple times and Wei Ying has mostly just floundered at him. In fairness, he himself had a complicated process of coming to terms with his sexuality and would not have been balanced or coherent about it in the first ten minutes of questioning. He can and will be patient with this. In the part of him that does not care about fairness, though, it rankles. He spent the last ten years slowly making peace with his identity and here Wei Ying is with the exact same internalized heteronormativity that characterized middle school.
“So, but. You want to kiss me, though.”
Lan Wangji had been very clear on that, he thought. “Mn.”
“Why, though. I mean just… Why?”
Lan Wangji stares at Wei Ying, the love of his life, his best friend, the smartest person he knows, for a good long minute. “Because I am attracted to you. Romantically and sexually.”
They stare at each other for another long moment, Wei Ying’s mouth hanging open. “What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he says, finally, weakly.
If he were someone else, he could, perhaps, rhapsodize about Wei Ying’s sterling qualities, the foundation of his attraction. He certainly has the material, but lacks the skill to shape it into something convincing. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable,” he says.
“Uncomfortable? Uncomfortable? I’m not uncomfortable, Lan Zhan, I’m just baffled. I mean, you’re you! Who wouldn’t want to hear this stuff from you! How am I supposed to deal with this! How am I supposed to figure out — wait hang on I’m calling Jiang Cheng.”
Lan Wangji blinks. He did not anticipate Wei Ying’s irritating brother being part of any of these confessions. To borrow a phrase from Wei Ying, what the fuck is this conversation.
“Jiang Cheng? Hi, Jiang Cheng, hey, quick question: how much do you think about kissing your male friends.”
The faint but irate voice of Jiang Cheng says “What the fuck, Wei Ying.”
“No, this is important. Do you think about kissing your friends? How often are you hanging out with like, other men, and just start thinking about kissing them. Like just occasionally, or.”
“Never! I never think about that! Why would I?”
“So like. If one of them — let’s say Lan Zhan — offered to kiss you. Would you want to?”
A silence. “Why the fuck would I want to kiss Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says. Lan Wangji thinks maybe he should be offended, except that it is an exact mirror of his feelings toward Jiang Cheng. Besides, Wei Ying is making a very endearing offended face on his behalf.
“Why wouldn’t you want to kiss Lan Zhan — wait I just realized I could be doing that instead of arguing with you so I guess live on in your delusion.”
“What the fuck, Wei Ying! Don’t you dare go harassing —“
The line cuts off before Jiang Cheng can finish his threat. Fortunately, Lan Wangji cannot find it in himself to give one singular fuck about his opinion right now. He stares at Wei Ying, who looks, suddenly, nervous. He licks his lips, and Lan Wangji stares more. “Uh,” he says, finally. “I still don’t. Exactly. Know where I stand on most of this? Like I’m pretty sure I want to, uh, experiment with, with everything, ‘cause suddenly I have a ton of questions, but mostly I think it’s frankly very rude that you aren’t already kissing me, what’s up with that, Lan Zhan —“
Lan Wangji’s tattered patience abruptly snaps, and he is pulling Wei Ying’s face to his before the other can finish talking. After all, he was not raised to be rude.