Work Text:
The office lounge never managed to look nice, even with the low lighting and the free servings at the side table. Shang Qinghua wondered how any one of his coworkers could feel relaxed in this place. The music in the background was bad, too. Always either too loud or too quiet.
Everyone was still talking and laughing and being sociable. Yue Qingyuan’s and Qi Qingqi’s husbands were making small talk. Even Liu Qingge seemed to be enjoying himself in the distant corner where his little sister was having an enthusiastic conversation with terrible, mean Sha Hualing from HR.
Shang Qinghua stood next to the punch bowl, alone, and drank.
There were no new messages on his phone, Shen Qingqiu no doubt having too much fun to bother texting him on his weekly date night with his perfect husband. They were apparently going to the new restaurant that had opened a few blocks away, the one where Shang Qinghua had wanted to go from the moment he’d heard about it. Mobei Jun had curtly rejected the suggestion when he asked, so he hadn’t brought it up since.
His husband had not texted him back, either. The message he’d sent was about nothing important, anyway, just a complaint about the party being awful, and him having generally a bad time. Again. Shang Qinghua didn’t know why he even sent that – Mobei Jun only ever replied something like ‘why would you attend then?’, which, fine, sure, he could just not attend, but then maybe some part of him was expecting Mobei Jun to show up even though he said he wouldn’t.
Because other people’s husbands did that! Surprised each other! Did things for each other!
Not Shang Qinghua’s, though. So since he wasn’t there, all that was left for Shang Qinghua to do was to send him detailed rants about the office itself, his coworkers, and the work in general.
Sometimes Mobei Jun replied nothing at all. Like right now. Shang Qinghua refilled his glass. He was starting to suspect the punch wasn’t even spiked. At least he wasn’t getting a nice buzz out of it.
“Do you mind?” someone asked mildly next to him, and Shang Qinghua rushed to stumble out of the way.
Mu Qingfang raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment as he filled his own glass as well. Then, instead of leaving back to find more entertaining people to talk to, he stayed next to Shang Qinghua.
“Having fun?” he asked, like a moron. Who had fun at an office party?
“Yeah, yes, of course, loving this,” Shang Qinghua said. “Whose idea that flashing lamp in the corner was? Looks very cool. Kind of like a disco ball. Party vibes.”
Mu Qingfang raised another eyebrow. “I think the lamp’s just broken.”
“Haha, right.”
They were left in slightly awkward silence, that Shang Qinghua filled with fidgeting and taking sips of his punch. When it got too unbearable, he asked: “Who did you bring?”
“My partner,” Mu Qingfang said, pointing somewhere to the other side of the room, where people were making pleasant small talk. Shang Qinghua had no clue which one of them was the partner, but he nodded anyway. “What about you?”
“Oh, uh, um, I did ask my husband, but he’s super busy with work, and an office party comes secondary, apparently, and also he’s not very much a people person anyway, so you know…” Shang Qinghua grimaced inwardly at the blank stare Mu Qingfang was leveling at him.
He was getting a deja vu. Shang Qinghua was pretty sure he’d had this exact conversation with every single one of his coworkers at one work-related party or another. He didn’t know why he kept showing up. Mobei Jun hadn’t, not even once.
“...I didn’t know you were married,” Mu Qingfang stated.
“I have a ring,” Shang Qinghua replied. “It’s there, on my finger. Right now. You can actually see it. Every day.”
“Right, right,” Mu Qingfang said and sounded disbelieving. “When was the wedding, again?”
“Five years ago – I have a picture of him on my desk, you’ve seen that, right? The broody dude in frames?”
Mu Qingfang seemed to choke on his sip of punch, just then, but after coughing a bit, he replied, blinking rapidly: “The cheekbone guy? That’s your husband?”
Ah. Almost word for word. Shang Qinghua would be insulted if he weren’t so used to this already. Also, he definitely was insulted! As if he didn’t know Mobei Jun was out of his league! As if he didn’t know he’d somehow managed to catch a shark with a fishing rod!
“Of five years, yeah,” Shang Qinghua replied, then chugged down the rest of his definitely non-alcoholic drink. “We didn’t put up a party back then, either. He doesn’t like socializing! He’s more of the strong and silent type, you see.”
Mu Qingfang coughed again. “Well, I’m sorry to hear he didn’t make it. Would have, uh, loved to meet him.”
At this point, Shang Qinghua could almost feel the awkwardness take a physical shape, but he merely nodded, and the conversation went elsewhere for a while, before dying out completely. Mu Qingfang moved on, and Shang Qinghua stayed and drank his punch.
His phone stayed quiet the whole time. The room stayed ugly.
After forty-five minutes of the same, Shang Qinghua finally decided it was enough socializing for the night – what socializing, he had been standing alone next to the punch bowl like a loser the whole time – and moved on to collect his stuff.
He was putting on a coat, when he heard Sha Hualing’s voice behind, just loud enough to reach his ears.
“ –the one on his desk, right? Ha, who does he think he’s fooling? It’s even more embarrassing that he says that, he should just admit he doesn’t have anyone to ask for an avec!”
“Do you think he just made a search for ‘handsome man’ and printed out the first picture?”
Shang Qinghua ignored the snorts at that and wrapped his scarf around his neck even tighter. It reached just high enough to cover his red nose.
-
Mobei Jun was already asleep when he got home, his expensive suit thrown on the floor like he’d hardly stopped for a moment to strip it off before falling on the bed.
Shang Qinghua picked it up and put it away to wait for a trip to a dry cleaner. He took a quick shower and brushed his teeth, before slipping between the sheets next to his husband.
The man looked softer when sleeping, the sharp edges of his beautiful face smoothed. Shang Qinghua’s dream guy, the most handsome man he’d ever seen in his life. Definitely more handsome than that dick Mu Qingfang. Better-looking than anyone in his office. Better than anyone, and definitely out of Shang Qinghua’s league.
Shang Qinghua wasn’t a catch. He knew he was not. He’d been reminded of it enough times to know by now! He wasn’t stupid, either. He could tell his face was pretty much average, handsome enough to not get bullied about it but never quite reaching the levels of the elegance of Shen Qingqiu or the sharp handsomeness of his own husband.
He knew his un-catchiness was definitely, entirely due to his terrible personality! Shang Qinghua had been shunned well into his adulthood for his lack of social skills. He rambled and talked way too much about his own interests, and sometimes muttered to himself. He was often cowardly and two-faced and maybe a bit of a snake too, but he was trying to improve on that!
Shen Qingqiu said he was hardly as annoying nowadays as he was in uni! And they’d know each other since then, so obviously Shang Qinghua could trust him!
So he knew he wasn’t a catch, or in the same league with Mobei Jun, but they were still together, somehow.
He’d known Mobei Jun from uni, too. Shen Qingqiu’s then-boyfriend, now-husband was Mobei Jun’s friend, so they’d just kind of been around each other a lot. Their only friends were dating, so it was given.
And then, somehow, they’d started fucking as well. It was probably mostly the fact that whenever Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe were doing it, they really didn’t have anything else to do other than spend time together. And talk. Well, Shang Qinghua talked, and Mobei Jun listened, and maybe sometimes grunted, and if it was a particularly good day, snorted.
One drunken one-night-stand had turned into multiple sober ones, and then it was three years later, and they graduated. They’d gotten married almost immediately after. Shang Qinghua wasn’t even sure how that happened. At one point, they were just friends with benefits who hanged out a lot, and then suddenly they were a wedded couple with a joint apartment, all without Mobei Jun ever telling him so much as ‘I like you’.
Shang Qinghua watched his face now, five years later, chest aching and exhaustion almost pulling him into unconsciousness. Almost.
He didn’t think marriage was supposed to be like this. He didn’t think a husband would never want to come with him to the office party, and he didn’t think a husband would ignore his messages when he complained about said office party.
Mobei Jun had always been a bit of a dick, and Shang Qinghua had always been kind of into that, too. Who didn’t like an unrealistically attractive, cold, domineering dude watching over their shoulder and sending glares towards anyone who might say mean things about them? Who didn’t like to be a little intimidated?
But it hadn’t felt like that in a while. There was being a dick, and then there was...whatever this was.
Because yeah, at first, the whole marriage thing had seemed sensible. They worked pretty well together, really! Mobei Jun pretended to listen to him while he rambled, and paid larger part of their living costs with his higher-paying job, and then fucked Shang Qinghua into oblivion each night like a real husband would. For his part, Shang Qinghua did everything Mobei Jun wanted, and let Mobei Jun do whatever he wanted.
The lack of looks and charisma Shang Qinghua compensated with being pretty good at household stuff. You know, logistics. Buying groceries with Mobei Jun’s money, paying their taxes with Mobei Jun’s money, things like that.
And that had really sort of worked for them.
Then, at some point, Mobei Jun started traveling for work a lot and stayed at work late to do overtime, and whenever he got home – whenever they saw each other – he just pushed Shang Qinghua on the bed without so much as a greeting and then railed him for an hour before passing out.
Shang Qinghua knew not to expect romance. He wasn’t entirely sure how the marriage had happened in the first place, so he wasn’t going to start questioning the lack of wining and dining now, after all this time. But he did whine about it to Shen Qingqiu, who only ever offered some women’s host show garbage advice like ‘just talk to him’, which Shang Qinghua of course ignored.
And then, even the fucking had stopped. Mobei Jun would come home from work, say barely a word to Shang Qinghua, and then go to sleep.
They hadn’t fucked in two months.
Shang Qinghua moved his gaze from Mobei Jun to the ceiling above, feeling a little like maybe the punch had had a little bit of alcohol in it, after all. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. Unshed tears burned his eyes.
Even a sad, pitiful guy like him had a line, ah! Mobei Jun had not once come with him to work events! He had not once said a nice word about Shang Qinghua to his face! He had only ever tolerated his presence enough to fuck him, and even that had now stopped!
Shang Qinghua was not stupid! Whatever their marriage was, it was not the traditional thing. He had not been promised anything. He’d always figured it was – convenience. A bedwarmer and a housekeeper in one package. But for some reason, it had not occurred to Shang Qinghua to ever wonder if Mobei Jun would seek out comfort from other people.
It had never occurred to him that he could count the pros and cons and decide for himself whether it was more pathetic to love someone and be desperately unhappy with them, or love someone and set the both of you free of the burden of each other’s company.
So Shang Qinghua counted, despite being bad at math, despite being a little bit drunk, despite the hollow feeling in his chest. And before he fell asleep, when the equation was clear, he wondered if Mobei Jun would thank him for being so proactive with it.
-
“I’m leaving for the weekend,” Mobei Jun said a few days later. They were having breakfast together for the first time in weeks. Shang Qinghua glanced up, and his husband was already watching him, pinning him with only one intense look.
All of his looks were intense! Such a terrifying specimen. Shang Qinghua would have normally gotten a little flustered. Now he only felt something like a mix of guilt and dread.
“Oh,” he replied. “Okay.”
“…” Mobei Jun squinted at him, but as Shang Qinghua held his gaze, he only huffed. “I’ll leave on Friday and come back Sunday evening.”
As usual. Shang Qinghua took a bite of his bun as to not reply with his normal ramble. He knew Mobei Jun’s career was on an upturn, and that out of the two of them, Mobei Jun probably actually liked his job. He had long ago decided he wasn’t going to be a bother about it.
To Mobei Jun’s face, that is! He whined to Shen Qingqiu almost constantly. So much, in fact, that Mobei Jun’s work was nowadays a time-restricted topic during their meetups. He got to whine about it for fifteen minutes, max, and after that Shen Qingqiu would get to slap him if he brought it up.
Anyway, that wouldn’t be a problem now. Shang Qinghua nodded at his husband.
Husband. Not for too long, anymore. The thought made the bun taste like ash on his tongue.
Mobei Jun gave him a weird look, then. The guy was not used to Shang Qinghua not word vomiting at all times. This silence clearly threw him off balance.
“...What are your plans for the weekend?” he asked, stiff.
Shang Qinghua swallowed the piece of bun. “Haven’t decided yet.”
At another look from Mobei Jun – this time slightly impatient – Shang Qinghua started a hesitant monologue on the pretty little cafe close to his work, where he could probably go and write.
He tried not to feel too guilty when the tension in Mobei Jun’s shoulders seemed to melt with the flood of words, and the more he talked, the less suspicious the man looked.
When Mobei Jun finally left, he pressed a kiss on the corner of Shang Qinghua’s mouth. The place did not stop tingling for a long time afterward.
-
The move was perhaps Shang Qinghua’s life’s easiest. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have a lot of stuff to even take with him. Mobei Jun was the more well-off one of them, and it didn’t take long for him to note that most of their furniture was actually bought by his soon-to-be ex-husband.
What did Shang Qinghua care? He only needed a bed for sleeping and his laptop for the novel he was going to write any day now. Once he was secure enough financially to quit his terrible job and do that instead.
He wanted to make the whole divorce thing as easy for the two of them as possible. Just because Shang Qinghua’s heart was shattered into million pieces, and everything in him was aching for a kinder life, didn’t mean that he should make the whole thing intentionally messy!
And if that had something to do with him avoiding confrontation, then that was just a lucky coincidence!
So when Mobei Jun left, Shang Qinghua packed his shit and moved. He left everything in pristine condition, cleaned up, and spotless. The divorce papers, as well as his ring, were placed neatly on the kitchen table, on the spot where Shang Qinghua had once sat when Mobei Jun gave him head.
Anyway. The new apartment was just small enough to fit him and the bed, but that was really all he needed anyway. And the walls were sound-proofed! He’d been kind of worried for that since the rent was cheap, but when no one came to berate him for the loud, relentless sobbing, he figured they were fine!
After the crying had stopped, Shang Qinghua made himself some instant noodles and wondered whether Mobei Jun would marry whoever it was that he was fucking on his work trips, now that Shang Qinghua had stopped being a problem.
After he stopped crying about that too, he debated on sending Shen Qingqiu a message. It was one thing knowing he was acting like a coward, though, and another hearing it shouted into his ear through the loudspeaker.
So he didn’t.
Saturday and Sunday passed in a blur. Shang Qinghua did not go outside to check out his new neighborhood, and instead just kind of. Disassociated.
The paint on the walls was flaky. The door was not soundproof: sounds from the hallway carried. His phone stayed quiet.
Mobei Jun hardly sent him messages ever, and work trips were not an exception. So the first time he heard from him was Sunday evening, seven-thirty. Shang Qinghua’s phone rang.
And rang. And rang.
He first watched it vibrate on the table, then he watched it vibrate itself over the edge and on the floor. Shang Qinghua made no move to go and pick it up.
It stopped ringing after a while, but then the messages started. Shang Qinghua didn’t open a single one of them when he finally managed to gather himself enough to take the phone and hold it for long enough to block his number.
Why he hadn’t done that immediately, he didn’t know.
This was a clean cut, right? Shang Qinghua had not been happy. He’d been miserable, actually, terribly miserable! And it was obvious that Mobei Jun had been miserable as well!
And if the way his phone stayed quiet after that made some part of him ache, that was just how pulling off a band-aid worked. Was it Shang Qinghua’s fault that the band-aid was put over an open wound?
-
Cucumber bro: Answer your damn phone
Cucumber bro: Do you know what kind of a heart attack I got when your husband called me? He didn’t even call me that time you got a concussion while biking
Cucumber bro: Whatever is going on between you and him, answer his calls. I think I heard an actual emotion in his voice and I’m still reeling from that
Shang Qinghua put the phone into his pocket without answering. He started stretching the wrinkled hem of his suit jacket. The flatiron was Mobei Jun’s, so Shang Qinghua’s current work look was several degrees less professional than normally.
No one here thought he was professional anyway. He didn’t really even care, actually.
As he’d predicted, he didn’t get any glances when he sat down at his desk in the open office. Mobei Jun’s picture was still there, next to the screen. He was so damn handsome Shang Qinghua had to take a moment to breathe as to not start crying again.
No wonder people thought he’d printed it out. He didn’t think there was a good picture taken of the two of them. There were probably pictures, sure, but Shang Qinghua was not nearly as photogenic as his ex-husband, and the embarrassment of someone thinking he’d photoshopped himself to stand next to some model would’ve actually done him in, so no thank you.
He took the photo and threw it in the trash bin next to his feet, and started work. He could feel eyes on his back, taking note of the action.
There were no comments about it until Qi Qingqi happened to walk past his desk at one point. She was an insanely beautiful woman, and so intimidating that most of the time Shang Qinghua could not hold eye contact with her. She was also not the type to beat around the bush.
“You got rid of the picture,” she said.
Shang Qinghua cleared his throat. “I’m getting a divorce.”
The office, for a moment, was so quiet that Shang Qinghua was certain the conversation was being listened to by every single person in the room. Qi Qingqi merely nodded, then. “Sorry to hear that.”
Shang Qinghua flashed her an insincere smile. As if he didn’t know what they all thought about that! As if he didn’t know that they whispered about him being a sad little man with an imaginary husband!
He was a sad little man with a real, soon-to-be ex-husband, and if Shang Qinghua were a more assertive man, he would let the rest of them know that!
But instead of doing that, Shang Qinghua seethed in his embarrassment and sadness and all the negative emotions he’d been wallowing in for months. Maybe he would drink himself into a stupor tonight.
-
Eventually, Shang Qinghua responded to Shen Qingqiu’s message. He said something about minding his own business, ah, and didn’t he have a terribly needy husband to attend to? If Mobei Jun was too bothersome, then he should just go and block him!
Shen Qingqiu had answered with several swear words Shang Qinghua had never heard of, and also a threat to his life.
As he’d planned, Shang Qinghua got drunk that night. He bought a bottle of cheap wine, all for himself, and then sobbed and drank and sobbed.
He recalled a time when he thought Mobei Jun might’ve been in love with him. A silly, insane thought, but it had appeared anyway, and Shang Qinghua, because he was pathetic, had taken that thought and secretly nurtured it in his heart.
A year into their weird little marriage, Shang Qinghua had gotten sick. And he’d been ugly, and disgusting, and entirely unfuckable for three whole days, but Mobei Jun had actually taken time off work to take care of him.
In Mobei Jun’s case that mostly meant just glaring at him from the side of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, making sure that Shang Qinghua did not get up. He’d had a bad habit of doing stuff even when sick because Shang Qinghua got bored easily.
That time, he hadn’t even been able to talk, because his throat was sore and his nose was stuffy. Maybe that’s how Mobei Jun had managed to stay there next to him for so long. He hadn’t been repelled by Shang Qinghua’s constant talking.
In any case, Shang Qinghua had dozed off due to fever and boredom, but at one point he’d woken up to the feeling of someone’s hand gently stroking his cheek. Like someone would to their beloved.
What can Shang Qinghua say! He was a romantic! A poet! An author! When he’d opened his eyes enough to meet Mobei Jun’s gaze – unguarded, almost loving – the man had merely told him to go back to sleep.
So that small moment of tenderness was enough to fool Shang Qinghua for a fleeting moment into believing that his ice block husband had feelings for him. Of course, he’d rid himself of the presumptuous notion immediately after getting better.
It somehow didn’t make him feel any better now. An ugly part of him wanted to take the whole thing back. Un-divorce him. Say something like ‘psych, just wanted to see what you would do. Now let’s go back to our married bliss!’
But that would’ve involved talking to Mobei Jun after leaving him with divorce papers without a word, so Shang Qinghua merely drank the whole bottle and refused to think about it.
-
Of course, things were never as easy as that. Five years of marriage, whether loving and full of care or not, was something one should probably talk about a little before ending abruptly.
This was the popular belief, at least. Shang Qinghua could’ve gone the rest of his miserable little life without ever having to have any kind of a confrontation with Mobei Jun if it had been up to him.
Ah. Never seeing Mobei Jun again. What a thought. A thought like that could probably devastate a weaker man. (Shang Qinghua was the weakest man).
In any case, it had been five terrible workdays cut with nights of endless crying and the longest, loneliest weekend Shang Qinghua had ever experienced – and he spent the weekend his parents divorced alone as well – before the day.
The day. A regular Monday. Shang Qinghua was at work, wearing his wrinkled suit, annoyed with people and overworked and underappreciated, and now a divorcee as well, although no one believed that last part.
The regular Monday was disturbed by Gongyi Xiao, probably the nicest coworker Shang Qinghua had, opening the door to their office with a pale face like someone had scared the shit out of him.
A bad sign. Shang Qinghua should’ve immediately run.
Instead, like an idiot, he merely looked at Gongyi Xiao like the rest of the office.
“Uh, Shang Qinghua?”
“Yes?”
“There’s someone who wants to see you,” he said, and Shang Qinghua’s mouth dried and his stomach dropped in an instant.
“I – can’t! I really can’t, you see, I’m very busy, tell him to call me –“
Gongyi Xiao was pushed from the doorway into the room, then, as Mobei Jun made his way in like an extremely murderous, bad-tempered king to his court.
“Shang Qinghua,” he growled, pinning him with a look. Shang Qinghua was frozen under that gaze. Ninety percent horror-struck, ten percent delighted.
He hadn’t noticed how much he’d missed his husband until he saw him, standing there, in all his terrifying glory. Had his cheekbones been that sharp the last time? What about the blue of his eyes? And his height! Unreasonable, really.
As if to accentuate the difference between the two of them, Mobei Jun’s suit was spotlessly neat, well-fitted, and most likely cost more than Shang Qinghua’s salary.
No wonder no one believes I was married to that, Shang Qinghua thought. And indeed, the shock of the entire office at Mobei Jun being here was…palpable. Someone had dropped their phone with a loud clatter at the sight of him.
Shang Qinghua swallowed. Mobei Jun was just. Staring at him. And looking absolutely ruthless, like if Shang Qinghua was trying to make a run for it, he would knock him out and drag him back by the neck.
“Can’t talk,” he squeaked, then, the sound of his voice comically high. “Working. Call me.”
“Call you?” The words were dripping venom.
“H-ha, ha. Um.” Shang Qinghua chanced a glance of Mu Qingfang at the next desk, but the man was just staring at Mobei Jun with his mouth half-open. So no help from there. “I’ll – uh, you know, I really can’t right now. Talk.”
“I’ll wait,” Mobei Jun said, narrowing his eyes at Shang Qinghua.
“Good! Great, there are chairs in the break room –“
“I’ll wait next to you,” Mobei Jun clarified, walking to where Shang Qinghua was sitting at his desk. His eyes moved from Shang Qinghua just long enough for him to give Mu Qingfang a blood-curdling glare. “You, give me your chair.”
Mu Qingfang, probably still too shocked to protest, did. So suddenly Shang Qinghua had the world’s angriest, most handsome beefcake breathing threateningly down his neck.
He swallowed. Mobei Jun smelled good. And his thigh was pressing against Shang Qinghua’s own. The point of contact was making him fidgety, nervous, terrified out of his mind.
The office was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
“Work,” Mobei Jun ordered, and Shang Qinghua only barely suppressed the whimper he wanted to let out.
The man had clearly made a tactical move in sitting next to Shang Qinghua. He would’ve obviously just run if Mobei Jun wasn’t there to guard him. Dammit, he knew Shang Qinghua way too well!
So Shang Qinghua started working, though his brain registered nothing that happened on the screen, and instead every nerve on his body was focused on the way Mobei Jun was boring a hole into his profile.
Everything was so loud. The keyboards clicking. Someone clearing their throat. The way Mobei Jun’s long fingers tapped against his thigh.
And his gaze stayed on Shang Qinghua, who felt like he was going to cold-sweat himself to death.
“Where did you move?” Mobei Jun asked, suddenly, after the most painful ten minutes of Shang Qinghua’s life. The noise was so sudden Shang Qinghua heard other people in the room wince as well.
“I – uh, it, you know. Just – it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” Mobei Jun said in a tone of voice that officers probably used when interrogating serial killers. “Did you think I would leave it be if you didn’t answer my calls?”
“Of course not,” Shang Qinghua lied. Honestly, he had not realized Mobei Jun knew where he worked, not to talk about expecting him to show up like this!
He hadn’t attended even one event here. Not one! How was Shang Qinghua to know that Mobei Jun even knew what kind of work he did?
Mobei Jun merely hummed as an answer, clearly not believing a word leaving Shang Qinghua’s mouth. He let him work, then, again, until a moment later, when he commented: “Is this the new project you mentioned?”
Shang Qinghua’s fingers stopped on the keyboard. He dared a glance of Mobei Jun again but quickly turned away. “Yeah.”
“Has it been...difficult?”
Shang Qinghua swallowed. “Not difficult. Laborious.”
“Hm,” Mobei Jun replied.
He did not say anything after that, and Shang Qinghua certainly did not want to keep up the conversation. He was too busy feeling terrible about all kinds of things, but mostly about the fact that, for some reason, Mobei Jun remembered his offhand comment he’d made a few weeks ago about the new project.
He did not know what to make of that, so he stayed quiet.
-
When it was time for a lunch break, Mobei Jun took Shang Qinghua by the wrist, and by that point, the show they’d given to the whole office was embarrassing enough that Shang Qinghua meekly followed without a protest.
Gongyi Xiao sent him a sympathetic glance, which made Shang Qinghua feel the tiniest bit better. At least someone would maybe mourn him after Mobei Jun was through with him.
He got dragged to the cute cafe he had not written in once yet, and while Mobei Jun ordered him lunch, he did not let go of Shang Qinghua. In fact, he kept that hold all the way to the table, and even then, he placed Shang Qinghua on the wall side chair and himself between Shang Qinghua and the door.
As if Shang Qinghua would try to run at this point!
...At least not now, when Mobei Jun was so determined to stop him from running!
Then, they sat in tense silence for a long while, Shang Qinghua avoiding Mobei Jun’s eyes and fidgeting, unsure of what to even say, and Mobei Jun just staring at him with the icy glint in his eyes, god knows what going through his pretty head.
In the end, Mobei Jun only said: “I refuse.”
“Refuse what?”
“The divorce.” Mobei Jun said the word like it was something dirty, the corner of his mouth curling down. “I refuse.”
Of all the things Shang Qinghua had expected to hear, that one was – “Why?”
The glare turned murderous once more. “Why? You would ask me that, after five years?”
What, that was it? A force of habit? They could not separate their miserable existences just because it had been going on for so long? Just because it was familiar and comfortable?
“You left without a word,” Mobei Jun said when Shang Qinghua’s pause grew too long. “When I got back, all of your clothes were gone. No message, just divorce papers.”
“I –“
“And you did not answer my calls.”
Ah. Well. Shang Qinghua could feel a little guilty about that, certainly. But how did this – this terrible conversation, talking about the whole awful thing, how did it make anything better?
Shang Qinghua did not want his insecurities to be dragged up and examined. He did not want to hear about Mobei Jun’s...whatever it was that made him stop desiring Shang Qinghua.
He didn’t expect romance, except that he was terribly in love with this husband, so getting nothing while being there was worse than getting nothing and not!
But he felt like saying all of that would’ve only made Mobei Jun angrier, so he stayed quiet.
After a moment, Mobei Jun asked: “What did I do wrong?”
The question threw Shang Qinghua for enough of a loop to snap his head back up. “What?”
“Tell me.” His arms were crossed again, stubbornly. Ready to press on it. “What did I do wrong?”
Shang Qinghua searched for words, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “You didn’t-- nothing! Nothing, there weren’t any expectations, so why would you have done something wrong?”
It was true. They’d not made any vows, ever. Their wedding ceremony had consisted of signing a paper and a quickie in the courthouse restroom.
“Expectations,” Mobei Jun repeated flatly. As if the answer was not adequate.
He did that, sometimes. Whenever they had conversations where Mobei Jun participated, too, he would sometimes question some of the things Shang Qinghua said.
And they’d never really fought before, but that was as close to fighting as they ever got. Shang Qinghua would, for example, offhandedly mention that a passer-by had a nice shirt. And Mobei Jun would repeat ‘shirt’, like the word meant something else, or like Shang Qinghua was not speaking plainly and needed to explain himself.
Shang Qinghua always resorted to brushing it off. ‘ Ah, I saw wrong. What an ugly shirt, actually. M y husband’s shirt’s way nicer, actually, in fact. Have I mentioned how handsome you look today?’
Mobei Jun would huff. They would move on.
But there was no moving on from this, and besides, if Shang Qinghua was going to get forced into a confrontation, then he was going to at least try and pretend to have a backbone. Mobei Jun had sought him out and dragged him into a cafe to have a divorce fight, so he wasn’t just going to sit here!
He leaned forward, suddenly truly feeling upset. “Yes, those, and – and you know what? Why would you even care? Why does it matter? What do you care whether we’re married or not?”
Mobei Jun’s eyes flashed. “You would ask me this, after five –?”
“Yes!” Shang Qinghua snapped. “Yes after five years! Obviously! What do you mean by that, even? What have these five years been to you, ah? Honestly, I’m asking, because I have no idea! None at all!”
This sudden outburst, it seemed, was enough to make Mobei Jun speechless.
Still, even when he noticed the stiffness of the other, the absolute shock, Shang Qinghua could not help himself from pressing on: “And – and you ask me? You’re angry at me? Do you know, none of my coworkers even believed I was married before today! They thought I lied about you because I’m so pathetic! Because my husband never shows up anywhere, he doesn’t go anywhere with me!”
This knocked Mobei Jun off whatever shock he was in, his face morphing into a scowl. “What did they say?”
Shang Qinghua felt like pulling his own hair. “What does it matter? Why would it matter, they’re right! What about this marriage is real? We just signed a paper! We just – we used to fuck, and that was it! And now we don’t, so what’s the point? I’m miserable, you’re miserable, so why are we still doing this?”
He knew he must’ve looked like an insane person, shoulders heaving and eyes probably full of tears again. But he – it had to be said, right?
But why was Mobei Jun looking at him like that, then? Why was the look in his blue eyes so...gutted?
“I did not realize you were this unhappy,” the man said, after a pause. Something in his voice was a little off.
“Why are you saying it like that, like I’m the only one?” Shang Qinghua asked, pathetically almost begging. “You do nothing but work! And leave for the weekends, and all I was good for a while was fucking and now you have someone else for that too, so I’m obviously not needed there!”
If Mobei Jun hadn’t looked like he’d lost control of the conversation ages ago, he certainly did now. It was not an angry look that now had him narrowing his eyes, but incredulous.
“I have someone else?”
Shang Qinghua’s shoulder slumped. “I’m not stupid. Nobody has that many work trips. And besides, you stopped doing me. At least at first, you took me to bed whenever you came back, but lately you –“
“Shen Qingqiu,” Mobei Jun cut in, and for a moment Shang Qinghua’s mind went in a direction that made his blood freeze in his veins, his heart stop, his lungs empty of air – “You told Shen Qingqiu. That you...disliked it.”
What?
“...What?”
The other let out a sharp exhale through his nose, turning his look to the window.
“I overheard. So I waited for you to make the move,” Mobei Jun said. “You didn’t.”
“You…”
He thought of the first time Mobei Jun came back from a trip and didn’t immediately start by kissing Shang Qinghua. Didn’t push him against the wall, and then grab him by the waist and lead him to the bedroom and throw him on the bed, like normally.
How he’d only looked at Shang Qinghua, and then when Shang Qinghua had gotten confused, just followed him to bed to sleep on it.
Shang Qinghua had not fallen asleep in hours, wondering why his husband hadn’t given him the usual treatment. Scared, making scenarios in his head. Dreaming up a lover, someone prettier and less loud.
He hadn’t once thought whether Mobei Jun had stayed up as well, wondering why Shang Qinghua did not take the first step when he had not.
“There is no one else,” Mobei Jun said, and the note of bitterness was audible. “No matter what my husband seems to think of me.”
“Then – but –“ Shang Qinghua shook his head. No, this wasn’t it. He had to – keep his head clear. “That’s not even the problem! This isn’t about your secret lover or whatever! It’s about us being married despite us not even being...together.”
“Not together?”
It seemed his husband was running out of patience. Mobei Jun leveled him a glare, his chin up like he could stare Shang Qinghua down into submission. During a divorce conversation!
Shang Qinghua felt like crying, and maybe like there was an open wound in the middle of his chest that Mobei Jun was forcing him to reveal.
“And what exactly does Qinghua mean by that?”
And suddenly, Shang Qinghua just felt tired. He cast his eyes, lower lip wobbling pitifully. He didn’t want to cry, not after accusing Mobei Jun of having extramarital affair, even though it shouldn’t have even meant anything, because they weren’t like that, and…
“We don’t love each other, right?”
For a long moment, he did not get an answer. In fact, it sounded like Mobei Jun had stopped breathing altogether.
When the silence prolonged, grew too concerning for even Shang Qinghua to ignore, he finally turned back to look at Mobei Jun. And it felt like a gut punch.
He had been wrong, before, to think that Mobei Jun had looked gutted. This was a gutted look on his face, now. Complete helplessness mixed with anger and something else Shang Qinghua did not understand.
He didn’t understand much, it seemed. Not this reaction. Not any of the ones before.
After an eternity of quiet, Mobei Jun finally spoke up: “You hate your job.”
Not an answer Shang Qinghua had expected. He couldn’t help the “What?” that slipped past his lips.
“You hate your job,” Mobei Jun said. “You want to write. I wanted to offer you the option to quit.”
Shang Qinghua could not comprehend what he was hearing. “Huh?”
“I have made myself irreplaceable in my company,” the man continued. “Our quality of life would not drop, should you start writing full-time. Not after I have worked like this.”
Shang Qinghua’s little mind was going to explode, not to talk about his fragile little heart. But firstly – “You didn’t think to mention this?!”
There they were – the tears, overflowing to his cheeks, now that his chest was suddenly, finally too tight with emotion. “You didn’t think to even once mention that – that you were doing this for me? I thought you were doing overtime to get out of the house! Because you don’t like spending time with me!”
Mobei Jun scowled at him like he was stupid. “Qinghua.”
“What?”
“I thought you knew.”
“Well, obviously I didn’t! You never say anything to me,” Shang Qinghua cried. “Do you think I’m a mind reader?”
At this, Mobei Jun seemed almost chastened. His jaw squared as he turned to his face away, but it did not take long for him to look back, to stare into Shang Qinghua’s eyes like he meant to make them understand each other through force if nothing else worked.
“You understand now,” Mobei Jun said, and it was a question, Shang Qinghua knew, even if Mobei Jun was incapable of phrasing it that way.
But Shang Qinghua understood nothing about this, nothing at all. Except that his grievances – most of them – had been addressed, and Shang Qinghua was now more confused than before, because before he at least thought he’d known where he stood, but now…
Mobei Jun wasn’t having an affair. Mobei Jun had wanted him to make the move to have sex, and he hadn’t, so he’d left him alone. Mobei Jun was working so much to make sure they would be alright if Shang Qinghua quit his job.
He took in a shaky inhale. “I don’t understand why you would do all that, but then didn’t even come with me to the party last week. Or the ones before.”
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun said, and waited until Shang Qinghua looked at him before continuing, almost annoyed, “I don’t like people.”
“I know that! But sometimes you do things you don’t like for the people you – you – “
What? What did Mobei Jun feel about him anyway? Shang Qinghua put his face in his palms, half-hoping to smother himself.
He heard the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor, and then there were less than gentle fingers prying his hands off of his face. Mobei Jun did not let go of his hands afterward, just kept them in his grip.
“I don’t like people,” Mobei Jun said, the helpless tone present again. “I like Qinghua.”
Shang Qinghua’s heart was going to burst out of his chest. He was going to die. Why would this come up now, eight years into knowing each other, five years into marriage? Was Mobei Jun fucking with him?
Shang Qinghua was going to die, ah!!
“Why would you marry me if you didn’t know that?” Mobei Jun asked.
Sensing an opportunity to hear it again, Shang Qinghua blinked at him. He probably looked like an idiot with his teary eyes and red nose. “Know what?”
Mobei Jun glared at him, but Shang Qinghua merely looked back.
“That I…” Mobei Jun said, through gritted teeth, surely, “love...you.”
Ah. Cardiac arrest. That must’ve been it. Shang Qinghua was sure to die from all of this stupidity. And the heartbreak, and the mending of his heart, and also mostly the stupidity.
His husband was in love with him. That made so little sense Shang Qinghua wasn’t going to even get into it.
In lieu of anything wiser to say, Shang Qinghua answered the question: “I don’t know. The sex was good I guess?”
“You married me,” Mobei Jun repeated, “because the sex was good.”
“Also, I love you,” Shang Qinghua said. The first time aloud; the first time in the presence of another person; the first time meaning it.
Mobei Jun was gritting his teeth still, but the burn in his eyes was intense, and when he spoke, the words came out harsh, demanding, desperate: “Then stop trying to divorce me!”
And without waiting for a reply, Mobei Jun leaned down and kissed him without any warning whatsoever. The squeak Shang Qinghua let out was muffled between their lips, and the tears clinging to his lashes dropping when he pressed his eyes closed, kissing back with more desperation than probably warranted.
He’d missed this! He’d missed this so much!
Mobei Jun was the one to pull back first. The open want in his eyes made Shang Qinghua hiccup back a sob.
“You suck at communicating,” he stated, and Mobei Jun glared at him. “This is so embarrassing! We were married for five years and I had no idea you even liked me! Cucumber bro will roast me to death about this. And he should!”
“Shang Qinghua,” Mobei Jun warned, and so Shang Qinghua bit back the rest of the tirade and merely let out a nervous burst of laughter.
“Ah, I, it’s – we’re both bad at it, I guess?” Secretly, in his mind, he was sure that Mobei Jun was worse. If you didn’t count in the divorcing-without-a-word, Shang Qinghua was always communicating! So much!
Mobei Jun exhaled and pinched his cheek, then. Like an awful husband. “You understand now.”
His awful husband was so bad at this! Why did Shang Qinghua still feel so soft for him, so fond, so full of love he was going to burst? Ah! It was some kind of dream guy effect.
“Yes, yes, I understand.” He nodded vigorously. “But! You can’t just expect me to go the rest of our lives with only this one time! You need to say you like me more often, or otherwise I will forget, and then we’ll have another one of these little misunderstandings, and, ah–“
His husband’s glare was so intense now that Shang Qinghua’s fondness was quickly turning back to terror.
“You will not leave me again,” he ordered.
“I won’t! I won’t!” He gulped. Fidgeted. “Although, what if, um – “
“Marriage counseling,” Mobei Jun stated in a tone of voice that invited no arguments. Then, a little more hesitant, “Do you still want to….you said…”
“No!” Shang Qinghua rushed to say. “I don’t want a divorce! I want to stay happily married to my – my husband!”
Mobei Jun looked visibly relieved at this, as if it hadn’t been obvious the whole time how pathetically in love Shang Qinghua was.
Or. Well. Maybe the whole divorce thing sent kind of mixed signals.
“After your work,” Mobei Jun stated then. “We will go home. Together.”
Shang Qinghua nodded, but then quickly shook his head. “Actually, you know what? The new apartment is closer to the office. And soundproofed!”
The warmth that flooded in his chest at the look on Mobei Jun’s face was worth the whole thing, probably. The man nodded, something almost resembling a smile on his lips.
Shang Qinghua wiped his eyes.
So. Not too bad for a divorce conversation.
-
“I’m quitting, actually. Next month,” Shang Qinghua said. “My husband got a promotion for a job in Beijing with much better pay, so we’re moving!”
The coworker, whose name escaped Shang Qinghua, had a fixed smile on his face as he nodded. He had probably shown up to get some punch, but since Shang Qinghua was standing in the way, he’d been trapped into a conversation by the absolutely freezing glare of his husband next to him.
“Sounds amazing,” the coworker said. “Congratulations.”
“Right? The new apartment is really pretty. It’s got twice as many rooms as our current one. I’ll get my own study, isn’t that great?”
“So great,” the coworker agreed. “Um. Could I –?”
Mobei Jun nodded at the man but did not make a move to give the guy better access to the punch. He awkwardly leaned around and filled his glass, before making a hasty exit.
“What a dickwad,” Shang Qinghua said, and Mobei Jun grunted.
Nobody wanted punch after that, which, Shang Qinghua found, was not that bad a thing. He’d had multiple revelations in the past few weeks, after realizing that his husband actually kinda liked him and that their marriage was actually founded on fuckload of romantic feelings rather than convenience.
He understood now, why he so desperately wanted Mobei Jun to show up with him to these events. Of course, there was the fact that he was hotter than any of his coworker’s spouses, so he got to be a little bit smug about that.
But there was also the thing that Shang Qinghua didn’t actually like people that much. He’d been bullied his whole life! Everybody was awful to him!
Except for Mobei Jun, who definitely did bully him also, but in a way that was acceptable to him.
So yeah, he didn’t like people, but he liked Mobei Jun.
And from the way Mobei Jun was glaring at everyone else to either keep them away or be nice to Shang Qinghua, it was pretty obvious now that the feeling was mutual.
What a good husband! What a gift from the gods!
“Hey, they fixed the lamp in the corner,” Shang Qinghua noted. “It used to flicker. Now it doesn’t – wait, it could be that it’s broken entirely, actually. That, or it’s not on. What a good corner for making out, though! What a good – agh! H-husband, wait –“
Mobei Jun’s grip on his wrist tightened, as he dragged Shang Qinghua towards the corner, and despite the feeble protests, there was a smile on Shang Qinghua’s face he didn’t even try to hide.
What a good husband indeed.
-