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Lan Zhan would never have agreed to the school reunion if it hadn't been for Nie Huaisang. In fact, most of Lan Zhan’s social life or leaving the house except for work could be laid directly at Nie Huaisang's door.
"Zhan-ge! Please! I won't have to tell your brother I couldn't persuade you." Nice of him to wheel out the guilt trip this early in the evening, Lan Zhan thought uncharitably. Nie Huaisang was definitely dressed to impress this evening - hair immaculately styled and a suit of a subtle grey green that shone in the right light. Lan Zhan had started out the evening in a pair of beige slacks and a blue shirt before Nie Huaisang had shoved him back into the house and towed him into his bedroom. Lan Zhan could have resisted but Nie Huaisang had both a wiry strength and an endless amount of blackmail which would make life uncomfortable for him.
Lan Zhan tucked his hair behind his ear and checked himself in the mirror once more. Nie Huaisang did know how to make him look less like himself and more young? Fashionable? Lan Zhan wasn’t sure what it was but he let Nie Huaisang use him as a dress up doll and didn’t complain about the tightness of his shirt nor the fact he was now wearing earrings.
Lan Zhan baulked for a moment as they drew up to the hotel where the reunion was being held. It was a Jin property, ostentatious and glittery. Lan Zhan could already feel the blast of too much air conditioning and stilted conversation that he knew would come. Nie Huaisang parked and turned the car engine off and sat.
“We don’t need to do this,” he offered. There was a stream of people, none of whom Lan Zhan recognised. “You can just pay for dinner somewhere else. Somewhere expensive.”
Nie Huaisang was getting a free meal out of this regardless, Lan Zhan thought. But it was this predictability, this lack of sentimentality that actually helped Lan Zhan open the door and get out of the car. He even attempted to paste a smile on his face until Nie Huaisang told him that was more horrifying than his usual expression.
The hotel ballroom was the kind of bland that Lan Zhan was comfortable with, patterned carpet to hide stains, groups of round tables with seats too spread out to make conversation comfortable and an empty music set up playing songs he vaguely remembered from ten years ago at a volume just loud enough to be slightly irritating. Lan Zhan let Nie Huaisang guide him through the opening niceties, nodding in response to greetings and trying not to stand stiffly with one hand behind his back as he’d been prone to as a kid.
Eventually he trailed behind Nie Huaisang to a bar, accepted his sparkling water and then decided that the best way of avoiding conversation was to stroll over and pretend to examine the wall of blown up photographs that decorated the far end of the room. There were the usual whole class pictures, Lan Zhan spotting himself first at the front and then in the back rows as he grew taller and taller. In the last photograph, the one taken just before graduation, he was embarrassed to see he wasn’t looking at the camera. Instead he was glancing sideways to the figure beside him. The figure with a wide grin and an arm slung around Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan started noticing how many photos Wei Ying was in. There was orchestra and swim team, ones in the library and ones in the halls.
There were ones of them together.
It wasn’t that he’d forgotten what he and Wei Ying had been to each other. It was more that he’d tried to keep those memories where they belonged, locked away and unable to tear their sharp edges into Lan Zhan’s bland loneliness. Wei Ying and he had made the sensible, correct and responsible decision to not try to be together when they were at university in different cities. It wouldn’t have been fair to Wei Ying to expect him to stick with someone as dull as Lan Zhan, to not let himself experience the entirety of the university experience. No one remained with their high school sweetheart forever.
Lan Zhan felt his ears heat when he caught sight of them in the background of a photograph taken on their last day in school. He’d been dragged out of his nearly empty class by Wei Ying, with the teacher just as disinterested in working as any of the pupils waving him off and wishing him all the best. Wei Ying had been determined that they should spend every minute of the rest of the day together, which had led to them sneaking into an empty classroom and making out for what must have been hours. The photo had been taken when they’d emerged, lips red and full, Wei Ying looking at him with his eyes sparkling and hands tightly entwined. They were in another, sitting pressed together at the top of the stands, looking at some book, heads close and Lan Zhan’s hand possessive around Wei Ying’s waist.
Prom had a whole board dedicated to the images. Lan Zhan was swept back ten years, remembering the sense of possessiveness that had taunted him as Wei Ying danced with group after group of friends. Then the announcement of the half-hearted Prom royalty that Lan Zhan had seen their friends ballot stuffing earlier. He was certain they were causing some kind of trouble. There was no Prom King and Queen - instead it was King and King, as Wei Ying dragged him up to the front and took the tiara and flowers and stuck a plastic crown on Lan Zhan’s head. His younger self looked embarrassed and delighted in equal measure as Wei Ying posed against him, laughing.
They had been happy. Lan Zhan had been happy. He wondered, silently, bitterly, if that was truly the last time he’d been properly happy.
As usual, he heard Wei Ying before he saw him. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” that familiar voice shouting. There was an accompanying clatter of running feet and a gush of laughter. Lan Zhan felt like he was back to waiting for Wei Ying every time they met up, for every date. “Waiting for Wei Ying” would have been the title of his autobiography at one point. And he never got over that anticipation, that shock of seeing him, chaotic and louder than anything else in Lan Zhan’s quiet careful life.
Lan Zhan watched out of the side of his eyes as Wei Ying came in with a heavily pregnant woman. He fussed around her as Lan Zhan recognised an older Luo Qingyang. Jiang Cheng stomped on her other side, followed by Wen Qing. Lan Zhan dragged his eyes back to the photographs on the display. He had no right to watch Wei Ying. He also had no right to the stab of jealousy that pierced through him sharp as a rapier and as quick as a gunshot. His chest hurt and he rubbed at it.
Wei Ying looked good. He was still too slender, tall and willowy. His hair was longer than he’d been allowed to wear ten years ago, tied back in a messy low bun. He still wore red and black like he owned the colours, his skin smooth and glowing against it. Lan Zhan would still be able to fit Wei Ying’s waist in the span of his hands.
Luo Qingyang grabbed his arm, pointing at a table and Wei Ying let her hold onto him as she settled into a chair. Wen Qing settled beside her, Jiang Cheng on her other side. Wei Ying knelt at her feet, smiling up at her. Lan Zhan needed to leave.
“Do you want to go?” Nie Huaisang asked, suddenly, from beside him.
Some urge to continue acting as if he was swallowing broken glass shards must have overtaken him when Lan Zhan replied, “It’s fine. Go - you should see your friends.”
Nie Huaisang nodded, slowly. “Time for a drink? Not anything - you know - booze. Just-” He shrugged. Lan Zhan followed him to the bar. A drink would give him something else to do with his hands other than smashing them into a wall, so that was probably a good idea.
Lan Zhan turned away from the bar with his soda water to be faced with Wei Ying standing in front of him. “Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying sounded pleased to see him, happy. Lan Zhan nodded, stiffly. He was penned in by people on either side and couldn’t exactly push past Wei Ying. He was stuck. “How are you?”
Lan Zhan couldn’t speak. He couldn’t look directly at Wei Ying. He fixed his gaze on his left ear lobe (which he’d bitten, making Wei Ying groan and whisper to him to keep going, once upon a time). He felt his ears heat, again, that dash of heat spiking to his cheekbones.
“I’m just…” Wei Ying paused. “I came with Mianmian, and, of course, Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing.”
Lan Zhan still couldn’t speak, anymore than he could stop his eyes drifting from Wei Ying’s earlobe to his neck. He watched Wei Ying swallow.
“I’ll speak to you later. Better get Mianmian some water before she sends Wen Qing to kill me. I promised to look after her.” Wei Ying sounded upset, a little, and Lan Zhan had no idea how to make it better. He nodded stiffly and they shuffled awkwardly to let the other pass.
Lan Zhan was back by the wall of photos. He wasn’t hiding but it allowed him to pretend to be doing something other than creepily watching Wei Ying. He had tried to talk himself out of it, drag his eyes away, attempt small talk with people who claimed to have shared classes with him. But, as ever, all he wanted to do was watch Wei Ying.
Most people had arrived so the man who rushed in stood out. Lan Zhan was fairly sure he didn’t know him but there was no guarantee. For all his claims of an excellent memory, so much of his old life had faded away. Only the brightest parts remained, carefully polished and put away so as not to wear out or dull. The man smiled as Luo Qingyang waved at him and he dashed over to their table. Wei Ying stood, clapped him on the shoulder and let him take his seat. He held onto Luo Qingyang’s hand, leaning forward in a way Lan Zhan recognised as love and concern and brushed a kiss against Luo Qingyang’s cheek.
“That’s Luo Qingyang’s husband. He had to work late, unexpectedly.” Nie Huaisang was by his side again. Lan Zhan jumped this time. “Wen Qing is Wei Ying’s roommate. And you know Jiang Cheng’s his brother.”
Lan Zhan slid his eyes to meet Nie Huaisang’s sparkling ones. He had a sneaking admiration for the level of mischief Nie Huaisang aspired to create, wishing sometimes he had a small fraction of his courage and lack of care. “Mn.”
“Talk to him,” Nie Huaisang said. “The sad pining is depressing even me.”
Lan Zhan didn’t really have a response to that. He watched Wei Ying laugh with the group some more though, until Nie Huaisang stomped off, frustrated.
He was back at the bar, refreshing his soda water, trying to ignore the DJ’s choice of terrible ten year old music, when Wei Ying returned. “Got any time now?”
Lan Zhan steeled himself and looked up and met Wei Ying’s eyes. “All yours,” he said, quietly.
“It’s loud,” Wei Ying said, wincing slightly. “You must be suffering.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan gestured at the side of the room but Wei Ying shook his head.
“Let’s head to the Lobby. I’ll buy you another very expensive soda water.” Wei Ying reached out to grab Lan Zhan’s arm before checking himself and pointing at the exit. “I may even get a coffee.”
“Not drinking?” Lan Zhan asked.
“I don’t.” Wei Ying shook his head. “Not anymore.” It reminded him of all that he’d missed, as he followed Wei Ying out, wondering what the story was. An accident? It wasn’t like Wei Ying was pregnant. Was he driving? But he’d said ‘not anymore’. Which suggested it was more of a long term thing. What else in Wei Ying’s life had changed? What else had Lan Zhan not been there for? To help? To support Wei Ying through?
Wei Ying positioned them in one of the seats and tables designed for people who were checking in. A member of staff came over and Wei Ying ordered as promised, smiling widely. Lan Zhan loved that smile.
“That’s a relief.” Wei Ying winced exaggeratedly. “It’s not like people were dancing - most people just want to talk at these things - and they still put the music on so loud you end up shouting.” Their drinks arrived. “So.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan started. He had no idea how to continue.
“Did you see those photos? There were a lot of them.” Wei Ying stirred sugar into his coffee. “We were really young.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan began again. “They looked nice.”
“Nice?” Wei Ying laughed, his head falling back and his long neck laid bare for Lan Zhan to mouth up, to bite, to even rest his cold nose. “Not embarrassed?”
“In some of them…” Lan Zhan took a sip, his throat dry. “I may have blushed.”
“There were entirely too many of us stumbling out of places we’d been making out, right?” Wei Ying laughed. “We looked good.”
“You still.” Lan Zhan swallowed. “Look. Good.” He ground the words out, staring at the table between them.
Wei Ying’s next laugh was slightly strangled. “Ah, Lan Zhan! Too sincere! Leave this poor Wei Ying some face!” Lan Zhan raised his eyes to see Wei Ying hiding in his hands. He muttered something that sounded like, “Have you seen you?”
The silence between them was slightly more comfortable this time.
“Did you end up working with your uncle? The family firm?” Wei Ying asked, gently.
“No.” Lan Zhan appreciated Wei Ying’s attempt to redirect their conversation, to haul it back from the edge of the abyss they were teetering on to some safer ground. “I teach, Music. At our old school.”
“That’s awesome. I bet all the kids love you - like, they’re scared of you until they have you and then you’re the best teacher ever. I’m in R&D with the Jiangs.” Wei Ying chattered on, letting Lan Zhan have an excuse to drink him in, talking through their old aquaintances and his job and his family and nothing that mattered yet did. Wei Ying taking the lead and talking until he was done was familiar enough that it made Lan Zhan relax.
“I miss you,” Lan Zhan said, into a gap in Wei Ying’s recitation. “I’m sorry.” Lan Zhan put his drink on the table and started to stand up. He had not meant to say that, not meant to put any kind of pressure on Wei Ying. He was selfish and greedy and needed to leave before he made it any worse.
Wei Ying grabbed him, holding tight until Lan Zhan sank back into his seat. “You can’t just say that and leave?”
“I didn’t…” Lan Zhan looked up to see a wild happiness, an honest smile and dancing eyes. “I didn’t want to make it awkward.” He could feel his ears heating again and a small smile stretching across his own lips.
“Awkward is basically our life. Don’t you remember the teeth? Or the time your brother caught us on the couch?” Wei Ying leaned in, closer now. “The time I fell off the bed.” Wei Ying had shifted until his leg pressed up against Lan Zhan’s. “And if I say I missed you too and I’m sorry and I have Jiang Cheng’s car keys, what would you say about reliving another part of our youth?”
Lan Zhan stared at him, hope seeming to mend some of the cracks in his soul. He was aware of all the eyes on them - the receptionist, the staff and their old friends, trailing in and out of the ballroom. “Where is he parked?”
Jiang Cheng’s car was not the tiny sports vehicle Lan Zhan had expected. “This is his sensible car. He has a purple one which has, like, no back seat, for showing off.” Wei Ying wasn’t waiting about as he hurried Lan Zhan towards the dark corner of the garage. “He’s still paranoid someone will scratch the paintwork so he never valets and insists on parking away from everyone else.”
They reached the shadows and Wei Ying opened the doors, the lights flashing briefly. Lan Zhan couldn’t wait any more. He pressed Wei Ying against the door and kissed him, hard. Lan Zhan had not kissed anyone in years and he had never kissed anyone like he kissed Wei Ying. He pulled back enough to press his nose against Wei Ying’s cheek, to feel the flutter of lashes on his cheek, to breathe in a scent he thought he’d lost forever.
“Inside, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying pressed another kiss to Lan Zhan’s lips, not making any attempt to move. “We should-” He bit down on Lan Zhan’s bottom lip, and Lan Zhan finally got his hands around Wei Ying’s waist again. “Fuck. Okay, so your hands are still like that…” Wei Ying wriggled against him and Lan Zhan was aware he was shrugging out of his suit jacket. “Get inside. Now.”
Lan Zhan was smug at the urgency in Wei Ying’s voice. He slid his own jacket off, tossing it across the front seat as Wei Ying wriggled back across the spacious back seat. They’d done this, after Prom. During Prom. Sneaked off and slipped into Jiang Cheng’s car, fumbled their way into the back seat. His car had been smaller then and Lan Zhan had bumped his head against the roof off the car as he’d wrestled with Wei Ying’s belt. This time, Wei Ying didn’t wait for him.
“Come on, Lan Zhan,” he panted, his voice already breaking on a moan as Lan Zhan gave into the urge to bite his neck, to undo his top button, to kiss further and further down Wei Ying’s collarbone. Wei Ying was the one tugging at his belt as Lan Zhan kept undoing buttons, kissing as he went. The car was still not quite large enough for him to bend in half, to take Wei Ying into his mouth and surround himself with his taste, his smell and his touch.
Wei Ying cheered quietly as he got his hand on Lan Zhan’s cock and all thoughts seemed to vanish from his brain. His mouth automatically sought Wei Ying’s and his hand found its way to Wei Ying’s dick. Lan Zhan couldn’t catalogue any differences or any changes as Wei Ying gasped beneath him, speaking whenever Lan Zhan pulled back for breath. “I can’t wait to get you into a bed, Lan Zhan,” and “You’re gonna fuck me so good,” and “I hope you’ve got thick walls.”
“I have a house,” Lan Zhan told him. “No neighbours.”
“Fuck, I’m going to scream so much,” Wei Ying told him. “And then-”
“Then?” Lan Zhan wasn’t entirely following as he felt himself start to harden further, almost embarrassingly quickly.
“Then you’re gonna fuck me again,” Wei Ying told him and Lan Zhan kissed him, biting into Wei Ying’s mouth as he came harder than he had in a long time. Wei Ying followed soon after, wound up and mouth incapable of stopping, promising Lan Zhan everything if he let him come. Lan Zhan was all too happy to oblige. He would do anything for Wei Ying, after all.
When they re-entered the ballroom, Lan Zhan was surprised by the flash of a phone camera. Nie Huaisang had joined Mianmian and Wen Qing at their table and looked smug as they walked over, hand in hand. “Another one for the wall?”
Jiang Cheng groaned next to him. “They’re going to be worse than last time. How can it be worse?”
Lan Zhan knew he was rumpled and blushing but he didn’t care. “We came to return your car keys. We will take a taxi.”
Jiang Cheng watched suspiciously as Wei Ying placed his car keys on the table. His eyes widened as he seemed to realise what had happened. “In my car? Again? Wei Ying!”
Wei Ying laughed as they headed out, together.