Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lan Zhan looked everywhere except at the house from where he was sitting in his rental car. He smoothed his hands on his pants again, fiddled in his pocket for some lip balm (why were his lips so dry), and flipped down the vizor to look at his reflection in the mirror. His suit was clean and the crisp white shirt reflected onto his face, making the dark circles seemingly disappear. 

His eyes flicked towards the house. A single red diamond with "fú" for good luck was on the front door, flanked on either side with banners for the door gods for protection. The decorations were normal for this time of year, but managed to look out of place on the otherwise austere exterior. The main floor lights were on, emitting a contrasting warm glow onto the perfectly manicured landscaping that was lightly dusted in snow. Flowering bushes his mother had planted were currently flowerless and trimmed back for the season. He felt a similar withering in his own gut. He shouldn’t be here. 

A figure moved in the front window; it was Lan Xichen. The curtains parted to show his silhouette and closed just as abruptly as he made the nine steps towards the front door. Sure enough, nine steps later, the front door swung wide open and there he was, waiting for Lan Zhan to get out of the car and walk up to the house he had left 14 years ago. 

No avoiding it now. Lan Zhan put the lip balm back in the pocket, snapped the vizor shut, and turned the rental car off. 

As he walked up the path from the gravel lined drive to the stones that led to the porch, Lan Zhan couldn’t help but remember to when he had stormed out of the house, backpack crammed with only a few essentials, and swore that he would never step foot inside this house again. He hadn’t returned when Lan Xichen graduated. He hadn’t returned when his father - 

“You made it,” Lan Xichen smiled wide and slightly unbelieving. He was dressed for comfort in soft joggers and a henley shirt, apron tied around his waist as if he had been in the middle of cooking but had run to the door when he heard Lan Zhan on the driveway. He looked the same and yet different from how Lan Zhan remembered, like a strange overlay of past and present all colliding at once and leaving him unsure of when he was. 

“I have arrived,” he replied. His voice sounded distant, even to himself, and overly formal, even for the Lans. For a moment he hoped that brother wouldn’t notice, but then he remembered he was beyond caring what they had wanted. So, why was he here again? 

“Come on inside,” Lan Xichen directed, stepping back and letting Lan Zhan walk into the house. How long would it be possible to waiver in the doorway before being rude, Lan Zhan wondered. With a sharp breath of courage, he stepped over the threshold and into the foyer.

The dark slate tiles under his feet were unchanged. There against the wall was a mirror and bench with guest slippers underneath. A curving staircase surrounded a round table filled with orchids. His mother loved orchids. Roses were too fussy for the trouble but orchids she had the magic touch for growing. Lan Xichen always liked to garden with her. Perhaps he cared for these, too. 

Gently, as if whispered, the smells of garlic and ginger and rice crept through the house. They reminded Lan Zhan of his childhood. He wasn’t sure how he felt about them. 

Turning back to his brother, Lan Zhan stood awkwardly not really knowing what to say. How do you start a conversation again after so long? Was it even worth it? Why was he here?

“I wasn’t sure of your size, so I grabbed a few of my favorites hoping one would fit,” Lan Xichen began to fill in the silence as he gestured to the multiple pairs of slippers on the ground. Sure enough, a matching set were on Lan Xichen's feet, his looking well worn and maybe a few weeks out from being replaced. It clashed with the rest of his seemingly perfectly casual appearance.

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan answered, more out of habit than anything else. He slipped his feet out of his dress shoes and into the slippers before sliding his shoes under the bench onto the rock lined trays. Slippers tucked into the side next to Lan Xichen’s shoes were a dark gray pair with extra orthopedic support. They were huge. Were they his uncles, Lan Zhan wondered.

“Well, come on inside,” Lan Xichen said, leading the way through the formal living room and down the hallway into the kitchen. 

Lan Zhan slowly followed behind him, eyes lingering over the familiar walls and surfaces, well preserved like a bizarre time capsule. This had been his home. This was where he had grown up. Was his bedroom still unchanged up the stairs and down two doors on the left? Was the rug in the office still stained with his blood? 

Why was he here? 

His breathing was growing quicker. No, he needed to remain calm. His emergency appointment with his therapist had told him that he was safe and this attempt at reconnecting with his family was admirable but not necessary. He began to recite the bullet points in his brain about how nearly forty percent of all siblings do not manage to reconcile their differences, despite their common family of origin. No matter how his behavior was today, he and Lan Xichan may never go back to what they were. And that was okay. Remember to box breathe, he reminded himself as he walked down the hallway. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four counts, exhale for four counts, hold for four counts. 

By the time he finished, he was standing in another threshold, this time between the hallway and kitchen. The smells of home hit him even stronger now, the familiar warm flavors of childhood dishes slowly filling the air with nostalgia and, surprisingly, some comfort. The garlic, ginger, and freshly cooked rice filled him and gave him the courage to walk through the door. 

There at the table, already set with four places, was his uncle. 

Lan Qiren looked, well, older. His hair had grayed and there were a few lines on his face that Lan Zhan didn’t remember. He had to be in his late-fifties by now. Not that he remembered perfectly from when he was younger, but still. Time had aged his face and reminded Lan Zhan of years gone by without contact to grow accustomed to those changes.

Pushing the chair back, Lan Qiren stood up as he saw Lan Zhan. Slowly, his uncle's eyes wandered over the dark gray suit and white dress shirt. It fit him well enough for being one Lan Zhan grabbed right off the shelf. They never fit his shoulders right and he had long done with wearing suits every day. His father always liked them to be more professional in their appearance. He wondered what his uncle would make of the tattoos lurking under his sleeves. Did he notice the holes in his ears from where his jewelry had been taken out? 

“Lan Zhan,” his uncle began. “It has been a long time.” 

Lan Zhan nodded his head, unsure of what to say next. 

The silence stretched from formal to awkward in about three box breaths. 

“Please, join the table,” Lan Qiren gestured to the table where the settings were waiting for the diners. Habitually, Lan Zhan walked to his old chair and pulled it away before sitting down. His back was ramrod straight and he placed his hands on his pants again, trying to surreptitiously wipe away the clammy feeling.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Lan Xichen announced from the kitchen island where he was adding sliced green onions to the top of something. Lan Zhan couldn’t quite make out the dishes he was working on at that moment. 

Nodding, Lan Zhan felt his hands itch to get to work in the kitchen; give him something to do. “Do you require any assistance?”

“No, we are waiting for one more person,” Lan Qiren answered for his nephew. “Lan Xichen has time to finish the meal.”

“It’s true,” Lan Xichen said with a smile. “Just adding the sauce over the tofu and letting the rice steam for another minute. Relax. Make yourself at … home.” Lan Xichen looked relaxed as he moved about the kitchen, stirring what he assumed was stewed bamboo shoot soup based on the smells coming from the stove.  

Lan Zhan couldn’t help but wonder who it was that was showing up. But the universe decided that his strange wishes would be granted tonight when, as if by magic, a car door shut with a little extra force. They all turned to the door in the kitchen that led to the front of the house. The front door was opened and shut with a slam, the echo of it reverberating in Lan Zhan’s head. Dread was filling him. Why was he here? 

Thundering steps came down the hallway and through the doorway into the kitchen, revealing another face Lan Zhan hadn’t seen in years. 

“Lan Zhan!” Nie Mingjue shouted as he burst through the doorframe. His arms were simultaneously open and stuffed full of things from a big bowl of something in his left hand, a messenger bag hanging precariously off his right shoulder, and a strange looking plant carefully held in the crook of his right arm. He looked like he wanted to grab Lan Zhan into a big hug. 

Lan Xichen set down the cooking spoon and jumped into action, swiping the bowl and depositing it on the table. Lan Qiren had stood and gathered the messenger bag, walked out into the hallway and returned with a pair of slippers (the dark grays with orthopedic support). 

Feet properly covered, Nie Mingjue walked over to where Lan Zhan was seated at the table. 

“I haven’t seen you in years, A-Zhan,” Nie Mingjue continued addressing Lan Zhan. “You look good! You’ve filled out some and gained some weight. It’s good for you. I like your hair.” He reached out and touched the low bun that Lan Zhan was currently sporting. Nie Mingjue's hand briefly tapped Lan Zhan's ears where he had noticed the piercings.

Lan Zhan tried not to flinch at the unwanted touch but was unable to completely school his face. Nie Mingjue dropped his hand onto his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, a little softer this time. Nie Mingjue's eyes swept over Lan Zhan, giving him the distinct impression of being totally observed and not really liking it.

As if the day couldn’t get any stranger, Lan Zhan watched in slow motion as Lan Xichen walked back to Nie Mingjue and reached for the plant, his body swaying into Nie Mingjue’s as if pulled by a gravitational force too powerful to overcome. Lan Zhan’s breathing grew faster as if he were also in outer space and couldn’t get enough oxygen to his lungs. On his wrist, his watch buzzed a brief warning that his heart rate was climbing at a quick rate. 

Nie Mingjue grinned. “The plant is for you, baobei. It’s the albino variegated monstera plant you wanted. I won the auction!” 

The world began to spin faster and faster. He called him baobei? What was happening? Lan Zhan’s lungs were beginning to gasp for oxygen. How could this be happening? What was Lan Qiren going to do? 

Lan Xichen smiled and reached across the plant to plant a kiss right on Nie Mingjue’s lips. “I love it and I love you.”

He was shaking, the world was turning, and yet Lan Zhan felt as if his legs had grown roots to the earth and was unable to run from this. Turning his head, Lan Zhan watched as Lan Qiren didn’t shout, didn’t look with disgust, and didn’t do anything, anything but nod. He approved? 

The watch on his wrist was buzzing again. 

“Lan Zhan,” his brother called his name as if from far away. “Lan Zhan, I’m sure you remember Nie Mingjue? My boyfriend!” 

Lan Zhan knew all the words but never expected them to be strung together like that. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he heard it right at all, the way his heart was pounding in his ears, making everything sound so distant. His air was coming in gulping breaths now, chest surging with every inhale and not quite able to fully exhale.

The watch on his wrist was buzzing again. 

All three of them were looking at him. Did they see him struggling to breathe? Could they see the tiny sheen of sweat on his forehead? Did they know how ice cold his hands felt and how the lights in the kitchen were growing dark so he could barely make out their faces? 

“Ba- bathroom!” He managed to say before jumping up and walking quickly down the hall to the powder room on the main floor beside the staircase. He fumbled with the door handle, jerked it open, and ran inside to lean back against the door before turning on the lights. 

Here, it was cool and quiet. The white tiles of the floor were speckled with a diamond pattern every four squares. Lan Zhan counted how many there were (fourty-nine) until he could think again. The quiet witness part of his brain told him he did a good job and to be proud of him for handling that situation by removing himself before the panic attack could incapacitate him. What else did he have to do? Oh yeah, inhale for four, hold his breath for five, exhale for seven. 

When his breathing had calmed down and his watch stopped buzzing, Lan Zhan stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. This was a mistake coming here. 

—— 

“Chef! We’ve got a customer out front who wants to personally speak to the chef before placing an order.” 

Lan Zhan didn’t look up from where he was whisking the warmed tamari into the garlic and ginger on the stove for his reduction sauce. He raised an eyebrow to look at Kyuho, one of his favorite assistants who also ran the front of the store when his other assistant, Lina, was off. “You know I do not,” he replied, turning back to the sauce which was about to drip off the whisk and onto the work bench. 

Kyuho walked a few steps more into the kitchen til he leaned against the countertop. “I know, Chef. But this time you might want to make an exception. This guy, he was pretty insistent.” When Lan Zhan didn’t say anything, Kyuho began to shuffle on his feet as if wanting to say more. 

This time, Lan Zhan did look up from where he was finishing up the sauce. Kyuho was unwilling to make eye contact. This was unusual. Perhaps the customer was being unreasonable? But why would that stop Kyuho from throwing him out like he had others? 

“I will go,” he sighed and told Kyuho. “This is ready to be chilled for pickup tomorrow” he gestured to the pot before wiping his hands on his clean towel at his waist. As he stepped out of the kitchen and into the short hallway space between the front and back of the store, Lan Zhan reached into his pocket and grabbed his lip balm. The winter air blowing off of the lake always made his lips dry. 

Lan Zhan’s company was small but successful. He had started out of his own kitchen making and selling dishes that were vegetarian for those who wanted meal prepped foods that were fresh and healthy. That was so successful that he was able to turn it into a full scale catering business. Now, he and his team were the most sought after vegetarian catering in his city. 

He called himself Hanguan-jun, and his company was the Shining Jade Kitchen. It was large enough to provide him with a stable living,  but not so large that he was known outside of the small world of vegetarians in the suburbs. They served Chinese-American fusion that was heavy on the Chinese, except for those special requesting other traditional vegetarian cuisine. That’s how he learned to make not only vegetarian fried rice and dumplings, but also several types of dal, a mushroom and caramelized onion wellington, and even hot honey tofu fingers with more than passing competency. 

Typically, the most demanding customers were mothers of weddings. Or worse, a soon to be mother-in-law of the groom who thought she was in charge of everything. After the fourth incident, Lan Zhan started using a password system that unless they had the pre-established password set up with the bride and groom no changes were going to be made to the final menu. It kept at least the bride and groom happy.

Corporate jobs were his favorite. Especially brunch meetings. Then, Lan Zhan got to bake muffins, bagels, quiche, and he always included a big serving of congee with every order. After a few rounds of serving “Chinese Oatmeal but better”, all the businesses needed to serve it. 

So, wondering what customer was here today, and more than slightly annoyed at their insistence at speaking with him personally, Lan Zhan went out to greet this customer. As he turned the corner and saw the man standing behind the counter, he stopped.

It was his brother. 

“Fuck.” 

Lan Xichen turned towards the voice and saw Lan Zhan wavering in the doorway between the front and back of the catering kitchen. “Please, don’t go!”

It was the ‘please’ that made Lan Zhan pause. His early conditioning to manners was always going to be his downfall, someone had once told him. No, now was not the time to be thinking of him.

“How did you find me?” he asked, still in the doorway but not leaving. 

Lan Xichen sighed with relief. “Nie Huaisang was in town for business and you happened to cater the event. He said he thought he saw you driving the van.” 

As Lan Zhan parsed this information (never again would he drive the company van) a question percolated to the top. “Are you much in contact with Nie Huaisang?”

Startled, Lan Xichen answered, “A bit.” He shuffled on his feet before continuing, “A bit more with his brother.”

Silence stretched out before them, years of words and emotions unspoken all simmering below the surface and threatening to boil over. 

Lan Xichen looked well, all things considered. The last time he had seen his brother was when he was wrapping up his final thesis for graduate school. That day they both returned home for the winter holidays. Back then, he looked so focused and was the perfect son that their father – 

Now, Lan Xichen’s hair was shorter with a bit of an undercut on one side. The dark blue jacket he was wearing made him look like he was from out of town. It was much too thin to be of any use against the sharp winds coming off of the lake in the winter. Not to mention his boots were clean and without a thin layer of road salt. 

Lan Zhan stood rigid in the doorway, still not wanting to occupy the same space. “Why are you here?” 

The tentative smile that had been lurking on Lan Xichen’s lips faded away with all hope lost. “Oh, well, I was hoping to just. Here. Please take these.” He reached into his overly thin jacket and pulled out two envelopes. Setting them on the countertop, he took a step back, as if realizing that Lan Zhan was like a pressure cooker ready to explode. 

“Please read them,” Lan Xichen pleaded. For the first time, Lan Zhan made direct eye contact with his brother. Decades of communication all passed in the blink of their eyes. 

“I will consider it.” 

Mission accomplished, Lan Xichen simply nodded and saw himself out. The store suddenly felt emptier than it ever had before and Lan Zhan felt the urge to run back to his apartment and throw all his things in his car to start all over someplace else, someplace new. 

Doing none of those things, he finally crossed the doorway and into the front to pick up the letters. 

— 

Lan Zhan stepped back into the kitchen to see his uncle back in his spot at the dinner table. Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen were putting dishes on the turntable, vast bowls and plates filled with steaming food and probably more than the four of them could reasonably eat.

He sat back down at the table and no one made mention of his quick departure. They moved around him, giving him space, making him feel like he was some bit of furniture - something to walk around but no need to really interact. Lan Zhan rolled his lower lip into his mouth, aware of how dry his lips were. Seems the weather even out here could cause issues in the winter. 

With an unspoken signal, Lan Qiren began to serve himself bites of food onto his bowl of rice. Nie Mingjue heaped himself ladles of food and even Lan Xichen picked out a good bite to share on top of Nie Mingjue’s bowl. Lan Zhan tried not to look on with horror written on his face, but he doubted anyone was even looking at him. 

“Tell me about your latest project,” Lan Qiren began asking Nie Mingjue. Lan Zhan almost dropped his bowl as he heard his uncle talking at the table. The table at which they were sitting and eating a meal. What happened to that rule that had been insisted upon when they were growing up? 

Nie Mingjue acted as if he never encountered such a rule in his life and was all too happy to launch into story telling mode, detailing about the efficiency of electric cars and the integration of AI into the cars themselves. 

“We’re almost to the point in our implementation that the cars are basically self-maintained and the only input they need is your destination!“ Nie Mingjue was animated as he detailed the specs of their technology. His chopsticks waved dramatically in the air as he explained the different operating modes and their supposed integration. Lan Xichen looked on fondly, once again swirling in the gravity that was his (Lan Zhan can’t believe this) boyfriend. 

Talk continued around the use of AI and cars and Lan Zhan couldn’t help but feel that it is all a little ridiculous. They had invited him for this?

“And you happened to win the auction for my plant,” Lan Xichen smiled. “Did you build something for that, too?” 

“That’s the only way to win those things,” Nie Mingjue explained. “A simple code to always have the highest bet is nothing complicated. Especially if it’s something for you, baobei.” 

Is Nie Mingjue - does he really - does Lan Xichen? Lan Zhan was going to be sick. The coiling feeling in his gut was growing with every word out of everyone’s mouth. His hands were beginning to shake as he held his chopsticks. Why the hell had he decided coming here was a good idea? 

“Did you get that mold cleaned out of the greenhouse windows, Lan-laoshi?” Nie Mingjue asked. 

“Mh,” Lan Qiren answered. “Your suggestion of the dehumidifier was excellent.” 

As Lan Qiren continued to talk about the humidity levels and optimal growing conditions for tomatoes, Lan Zhan felt like he was floating away. What was happening? What has happened since he walked out? 

“That brings us to our main point in inviting you here, Lan Zhan.”

Looking up from his bowl of rice, still uneaten, Lan Zhan darted his eyes across the table to see who it was that had spoken. It was his brother. 

Lan Xichen looked rather vulnerable as he continued. “We wanted to tell you in person. And invite you in person.” 

Feeling three sets of eyes on him had never been more unsettling. Lan Zhan felt his breath quicken once again as he asked, “Tell me what?”

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue turned to each other for one breath before turning back to him. “Our engagement.” 

For a moment, no one said anything. So everyone watched as Lan Zhan’s normally expressionless face of his childhood contorted into furrowed eyebrows and angry eyes. “Engagement.” Lan Zhan’s voice was flat as he looked at his brother. Lan Xichen’s face was hopeful, eyes wide and waiting for his brother’s answer. “Is this for certain?” 

“Yes?” 

Lan Zhan lowered his head and gave a low chuckle. 

The temperature of the room suddenly felt like the back of the walk-in freezer as Lan Zhan abruptly stoped laughing, snaped his head up, and stared them all down. 

“How is this acceptable to you?” Lan Zhan demanded as he turned to his uncle. His voice was like ice, sharp, and cut into everyone at the table. “Two men together and getting married? I believe I was told in no uncertain terms that ‘marriage is only between a man and a woman’? What do you think my father would say about this if he were here?"

Nie Mingjue wrapped his arm around Lan Xichen who was gazing in horror at his brother. “Stop. Whatever you're gonna say, don’t,” he commanded.  

But Lan Zhan couldn’t stop. The years of resentment and hate he had only been pouring into himself now had a new outlet and stopping it would be like stopping a match after striking. 

“Don’t? Don’t? No. I will say. I did not fourteen years ago but you will listen now.”

Lan Zhan abruptly stood up from his chair, the legs sliding back with a horrible scraping sound against the tile floors. His emotions were too big to be constrained by sitting; his confidence in himself was more assured than the last time he was in these walls. “He was going to send me away. He was going to send me to them. To fix me. Carry on the Lan name. ‘No son of mine is gay.’ And if I was going to ruin my life I sure wasn’t going to be allowed to ruin the name of Lan. Or that of the Jiang family, either.”

“A-Zhan,” Lan Xichen tried to interject. 

Lan Qiren said nothing and his face revealed nothing as he watched his nephew across the table. 

“No. You have no right to call me ‘A-Zhan’. You agreed. You called-” Lan Zhan began to shake, his fists curled into themselves and nails biting into his palms. “You called him a mistake with a name. You never once tried to find me. And now? Now you are only doing it to rub in my face.” Here, Lan Zhan turned to Nie Mingjue. “I am glad that you found happiness with my brother. I am glad that you are accepted.” 

Slowly, Lan Zhan turned to his uncle. “But why could you never accept me?”

Nothing was said and the weight of all the years came crashing down onto the kitchen table, impaling everyone with emotions previously hidden and locked away. Without another word, Lan Zhan walked down the hallway and out the front door. 

— 

30 … 29 … 28 … 27 …

Lan Zhan looked up from his book where he was studying at his desk to see Wei Ying in front of the microwave, warming up another (third?) bowl of his toxic spicy ramen. Any second now, he would get to see it. 

As the numbers continued to creep down, Wei Ying began to sway back and forth, keeping time with the ticking down seconds on the microwave clock. By the time the number reached 23, Wei Ying's arms were in full swing as he rocked leg to leg and today he even got his shoulders involved, one reaching up towards his ear before he twisted his arms in some snake-like contortion, keeping time with the seconds counting down. 

It was what Lan Zhan had come to call “the microwave dance” and he loved watching Wei Ying perform them. They didn’t happen every time, but often enough that Lan Zhan could pretty much rely on them to be a distraction from his studying if he was in the dorm room when they happened. Honestly, even when he wasn’t in the room, Lan Zhan could almost smirk with pleasure at just the memory of these microwave dances. 

“Yes!” Wei Ying whisper-sang as the microwave dinged its doneness. “Ramen time, ramen time, what’s the best time? It’s ramen tim- oh shit! Hot, hot!” 

Startled out of his microwave dance induced trance, Lan Zhan jumped up to help. “Allow me,” he said, grabbing a hot pad that he had placed on top of the microwave for Wei Ying to use for this very instance. Reaching inside, he placed the hot bowl on the hot pad and set it on the small table the microwave sat on. 

Wei Ying had stepped aside to give Lan Zhan space. “Thanks,” he said, grinning. “But you know, I can make my own ramen. And it wouldn’t be the first time hot fingers ever stopped me from eating it.” 

“Hm,” Lan Zhan agreed by disagreeing. “Hot fingers will stop you from other things.” 

“Other things?” Wei Ying laughed and wiggled his fingers in front of Lan Zhan’s face. “Come on, Lan Zhan, what do I do that needs fingers for?” 

Lan Zhan used all of his will power to not slowly trail his gaze down Wei Ying’s neck to his shoulder, his thread bare t-shirt with some band he had never heard of, and not notice the way the edge of the shirt teased touching the top of his black sweatpants waistband. What he had in mind, no, Wei Ying wouldn’t need his fingers at all. 

“Chopsticks,” Lan Zhan finally said to the still wiggling Wei Ying. 

Scrunching up his nose, Wei Ying laughed. “Nah, I’ll just use my mouth and slurp it all up! No fingers required. Oh! That would make a great name for a villain: Hot Honey Fingers. Everything he touches melts like hot honey! No one can withstand his glowing hot phalanges. He wanted to become a concert pianist but always set the piano on fire. And that started his downfall into a life of crime.” 

Grabbing the hot pad so as not to burn his fingers, Wei Ying somehow managed to crawl back up into his lifted bed and not spill any of the ramen. Crossing his legs, Wei Ying looked back down at Lan Zhan. “No one can stop Hot Honey Fingers!” 

A hint of a smile grew in the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth. 

— 

Stumbling out the front door, Lan Zhan’s mind can’t seem to remember what time he was in. Did he just fight with his father? Where was his backpack? How was he leaving here again? 

No, try and breathe. His watch on his wrist was buzzing constantly now, alerting him of his heightened heart rate. Lan Zhan looked down at his hands and found them to be shaking. He also realized that he was crying as tears fell to splatter on his hands. 

With a flop, Lan Zhan sat down on the top step of the porch and buried his face in his hands. How could this have happened again? He couldn’t remember what to do and memories he had long since suppressed bubbled to the surface and they were all he could see. 

– 

For once, the weather was clear and cloudless. As Lan Zhan and Wei Ying walked back to their apartment after their night class, little stars could be seen in spite of the city lights. Wei Ying was talking of nothing and everything as he bounced on the sidewalks, not looking or caring what direction his body was oriented. But like some strange satellite, he orbited around Lan Zhan as they made their way across campus towards their home. 

Looking back on it, Lan Zhan couldn’t remember why they stopped at the hammocks by the small lake. In all honesty, it was more of a glorified pond but everyone called it Beer Lake and so it was a lake. 

The hammocks nestled along the water’s edge were strung between low growing trees that had been planted along the time the university opened. Most days you could find students crowded around them, swinging to and fro, and sometimes threatening to jump directly from hammock to lake. 

But tonight they were mostly empty. So when they both reached one of the hammocks tucked a bit farther back from the lake, they lay next to each other, sideways in the hammock. 

Lan Zhan was acutely aware of every point of contact he shared with Wei Ying. Who happened to be continuing to talk, never once having stopped since they started walking 11 minutes ago. Was he as aware of Lan Zhan’s body as Lan Zhan was aware of Wei Ying’s? 

Wei Ying reached out with his long legs to reach the ground and began to gently rock the hammock back and forth as if unable to contain any energy as he continued talking. The rocking motion caused the hammock ropes to dig into the back of Lan Zhan’s arms and legs, but Wei Ying seemed content, so Lan Zhan tried to focus on other things. 

“I think that’s the main reason why Jiang Cheng is so dumb,” Wei Ying concluded. 

“Mn?” Lan Zhan asked, realizing that Wei Ying was waiting for his input. 

“Becuase he showers in the morning like a crazy person!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “Why would you go to bed all covered in the outside world? You get your sheets dirty so you have to wash them more, but we both know Jiang Cheng washes his sheets as often as he goes on dates. So, never. That’s why he stinks and the stink clouds up his brain and he is so dumb.” 

Lan Zhan thought about it for a minute before replying, “I shower in the morning after my run.”

Scoffing, Wei Ying explained, “That’s different. You get all hot and sweaty after your run. So you shower to stay fresh and clean. That’s why,” and with no invitation other than his desires, Wei Ying leaned over to Lan Zhan’s chest and inhaled deeply. Lan Zhan froze in the hammock, all his focus not on the hammock ropes but now on Wei Ying leaning over him to sniff. 

His nose hovered just above Lan Zhan’s clavicle and Lan Zhan couldn’t help but smell Wei Ying’s artificial vanilla shampoo that lingered in his hair.

“That’s why you still smell good at the end of the day. And you shower before bed. So, win-win. You always smell good.” 

Wei Ying continued to hang over Lan Zhan, body turned into what others would call a prelude to a kiss. He looked up into Wei Ying’s eyes and noticed how big they were at that moment. His lips were slightly parted and if those romantic comedies his brother forced him to watch were any indication, Wei Ying could be ready for a kiss. He lowered his gaze to Wei Ying’s lips before realizing his own mouth was beginning to soften. 

Seeing that Wei Ying was still waiting for a reply, Lan Zhan forced his brain synapses to snap back together and answered, “I shall always endeavor to smell good for Wei Ying.”

A big grin split Wei Ying’s face, his eyes becoming silver crescent moons in the starlight. He collapsed onto Lan Zhan’s chest and continued to rock them together in the hammock. “That’s why you’re the best, Lan Zhan.” 

Lan Zhan hoped against hope that what he is about to do doesn’t totally fuck up what they’ve had to this moment. It’s something he has been dreaming of doing for years. Maybe now? Lan Zhan was always worried about something, so that being his status quo, he decided to go for it. 

Slowly, oh so slowly, Lan Zhan reached around with his left hand and placed it on Wei Ying’s shoulder. But Wei Ying made no move to shove him off. Instead, he nestled a bit further down into his chest. 

Fireworks began to shoot off in Lan Zhan’s brain as Wei Ying snuggled (yes, this can officially be called a snuggle) down into his chest. After all these years, all the longing, he can have another data point of success with Wei Ying and snuggling. The times before that Wei Ying initiated didn’t seem to count, as that could have just been Wei Ying who flirted with everyone and anything. This time, it was with only him and it was personal. It was everything he wanted and more. The artificial vanilla smell from his shampoo drifted up to Lan Zhan’s face and he wanted to say something about how Wei Ying always smells good, too. Would that be weird? 

“This year has been the best,” Wei Ying sighed, a fresh conversation beginning though apparently it was a continuation of a train of thought in his mind. “I feel like nothing bad is gonna happen anymore. No more Madame Yu. No more threats. We’re almost graduated! No more feeling like I’m worthless.”

“You are not worthless to me.”

Laughing, Wei Ying smacked Lan Zhan on the chest. “Yeah, I know, I know. I’m your annoying roommate slash best friend slash gremlin that you can never get rid of! And we both know I make enough messes that you’re always tripping over me.” 

“No.” 

“No?”

Lan Zhan started to rub his hand up and down Wei Ying’s back for comfort. “Wei Ying is,” Lan Zhan began. But how could he even begin to tell him how he felt? Could he start by saying when I first saw you walk into our shared dorm room four years ago, I went from mildly panicking at the thought of a roommate to awe-struck in 3 seconds as the most beautiful man in the world burst through the door with only a shabby backpack and bottles of alcohol? No, that would probably be a little much. 

Maybe he should mention how much he loves watching him throughout the day, everything from his messy morning hair to his microwave dances to his crazy adventures he always starts with a smile before reaching back to pull Lan Zhan along. None of them capture all of the moment and feelings.

Wei Ying grew still and the hammock stopped swinging. “What am I for you?” he whispered as if afraid to know the answer. 

“Everything,” Lan Zhan finally answered, jumping off the emotional cliff and into the unknown. “You are my friend. You are my roommate. You are everywhere,” at this, Wei Ying snorted. “I like Wei Ying’s messes. You bring life.” Lan Zhan’s hand had stilled on Wei Ying’s back at this point. “You make my world full of life.”

Wei Ying pressed himself up to be able to fully look Lan Zhan in the eyes. Emotions were peeping out and saying more than words could. “You’re my guiding light, Lan Zhan. You make every space brighter for me just by being there. You’re always there. You are like the sun. My personal sun.”

There was a breathy silence after this declaration. Lan Zhan felt his ears turning red and was glad of the dark so Wei Ying couldn’t see them. Wei Ying couldn’t see much in the dark (Lan Zhan really should insist that he get his vision checked one of these days) so the lack of light for camouflage was working to his advantage. 

Too full of emotions, Wei Ying lay back down on Lan Zhan’s chest and they shared in the simple act of existing in the same space, the rise and fall of their chests syncing up, and gazed at the stars above.  

“That was really cheesy, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying muttered a few moments later. 

“It was dairy free cheese. You are lactose intolerant.”

“No one believes me when I tell them you’re funny.”

Feeling Wei Ying laugh against his body filled Lan Zhan with a warm glow, rather like the sun Wei Ying called him. 

They sat for a bit, just the two of them swinging occasionally in the hammock. Lan Zhan wasn’t used to having people so close to him that they are basically on top of him, but then again, Lan Zhan didn’t have Wei Ying in his life until university four years ago. 

After being out in the chill for so long, Lan Zhan reached down and into his pocket for his lip balm. His lips were dry and he knew from years of experience to stay on top of it before it got worse and they cracked. Twisting the cap off, he realized that it was almost empty. However, there was enough for one more application. Time to replace this pocket lip balm with the spare one waiting for him in the left side of his bathroom drawer back in their bathroom. 

“Hey, do you have any extra?” Wei Ying sleepily asked from where his head was leaning onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “My lips are dry, too.” 

“There is none left in the tube.” 

Lan Zhan felt more than heard Wei Ying’s breath hitch but before he could ask if everything was alright, Wei Ying had slightly turned so he was face to face with Lan Zhan. “Then I’ll just have to get some lip balm in another way.” 

Lan Zhan’s heart began to thud in his ears (now turning a very dark red) as Wei Ying leaned in closer. A little out of his element, Lan Zhan’s brain began to hyperfocus on tiny details: The way strands of hair were falling across Wei Ying’s forehead, the spicy breath from the flaming hot takis Wei Ying had eaten for a mid-class snack, the press of the hammock ropes into the backside of his body and how suddenly he didn’t mind the sting at all. 

And that’s when Lan Zhan knew his world could be divided into two: The moments he knew the world before kissing Wei Ying and the moments he knew the world after kissing Wei Ying. 

Lan Zhan closed his eyes as Wei Ying leaned in and just brushed his lips against Lan Zhan’s. It was so subtle, that he wasn’t even sure it had happened. 

“You use vanilla flavor?” Wei Ying whispered into his mouth. 

Lan Zhan leaned in and pressed his lips against Wei Ying this time, leaving no room for questions. 

That night they ended up falling asleep in the hammocks as even the stars went to bed. Neither of them noticed the student taking pictures with his phone. 

– 

“Father wants to see you in his office,” Lan Huan told him through the partially open door. 

Looking up from where he was starting to unpack his bag for the winter holidays, Lan Zhan nodded a confirmation. It was typical for their father to talk with them upon their return home and get a report on how their academics were progressing. With graduation only five months away, this was not unexpected. But his academics were flawless and his professors exalted his work, so he wasn’t too concerned. Lan Zhan walked down the stairs and into the heavily wood paneled room where he knew his father was waiting. 

Meetings with his father were always like this: Formal, brief, and always business, never personal. From the afternoon of his mother's death to this one today, Lan Zhan had a list of about eight standard phrases he used when communicating with his father. As he reached the doors to his father's home office, he had a feeling which ones would be used today.

“Shut the door,” his father instructed from where he sat behind his desk.

His father's office at home was dramatically different from his one at work. Here, the dark paneled wood walls bounced the orange glow from the single desk lamp. Bookshelves along one side of the room were filled with books on business, computers, customer marketing, and files upon files of data from their long-standing family business. The window behind the desk chair illuminated his father, casting him in a cold light, highlighting the sharp difference between his black hair, pale skin, and amber eyes.

His father was holding a stack of papers and a large envelope. With no marking on it, the papers must have been some internal work from the company. Lan Zhan was surprised as their quarter four earnings have always been their most profitable so an internal review was unlikely. 

Confident about the topics of conversation, and his eight phrases prepared, Lan Zhan reached back and closed the double doors. He walked a few steps forward to stand in front of the large desk. “You wanted to see me, Father?”

For a moment, his father was quiet as if gathering his thoughts and sharpening their focus, ready to slice. 

“Are you proud of yourself for your work this semester?” 

A standard question and one that Lan Zhan has long since prepared. He felt the tension release from his shoulders as they were in familiar territory and one he knew how to answer. “Yes, Father. My thesis is nearing completion and my professors have only praise for my work.” 

But here things began to deviate from what Lan Zhan had predicted. His father looked up from the papers and held him rooted to the ground with his gaze. “And what of your extra-curricular activities?” 

Lan Zhan had no idea what his father was talking about so he said nothing. Which was the wrong thing to say. 

“I’ve seen these,” his father exclaimed, slamming the photos, yes they are photos, down onto his desk. “Do you remember your activities now?”

The photos are of him and Wei Ying. That night in the hammock when they shared their first kiss. Then walking through the library when Wei Ying had grabbed his hand. Wei Ying smiling and leaning in close in the back of the lecture hall. Lan Zhan smiling at Wei Ying who was laying with his head in his lap at the park where they shared lunch. Lan Zhan visiting Wei Ying at his job at the coffee shop.

Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying … 

With these photos, his father began to unravel Lan Zhan’s entire world. He was completely frozen, his brain must be malfunctioning, because nothing is working and he can’t think of anything beyond what his father is going to do now that he knows – now that he knows – 

“You are a Lan,” his father steamrollers over Lan Zhan’s internal panic. “You need to be perfect. This, this thing you have with this boy is nothing. And it will end now.” 

How could this be happening? Wei Ying had just told him that nothing bad was going to happen anymore. But Lan Zhan wanted things and wished for more and look what happened. All he can do is stare, speechless, at the man before him. He began to breathe heavier, his chest rising and falling as if trying to gain more oxygen but failing.

“Lan Zhan, how could it be you, my son, of all people who would do this to me?” The man was pleading with him now, as if cajoling him to his side. “Don’t you know how much this family has suffered already after your mother? All the things I have done for you and your brother to make sure you would never want for anything?”

The words crawl up Lan Zhan's spine like frost in a window, sharp and crystalline and edging towards a chill that could kill.

“I don’t, I can’t…” Lan Zhan barely manages to eke out any words. His brain has fully shut down now, still locked on the photos on the desk before him. Who took these images? How did they take them? They were so careful. He was so happy. 

“And now you go and do this!” His father shoved his hands along the desktop and practically threw the photos at Lan Zhan. In some bizarre snowstorm, the photos fluttered and fell around him. Lan Zhan held himself rigid, his hands shaking, nails pressed so far into his palms that blood was beginning to seep out. 

He felt like he was in two places at once, physically here with his father, but his mind was with Wei Ying back at their apartment. He had to make sure Wei Ying was okay.

Wei Ying, Wei Ying…

“You don’t even make friends,” his father continued. “And now you go and do this? What on earth possessed you to do so?” 

Lan Zhan opened his mouth but words were escaping him. His father loomed in the distance, like the inevitable ending of a horror movie, waiting for an answer. Eventually, Lan Zhan whispered, “I wanted to.” 

Silence permeated the study, save for small creaks in the floor outside the shut doors. Lan Zhan's hands were shaking as he stood under the gaze of his father. 

After what felt like forever, his father muttered, “What did you say?” 

Lan Zhan breathed as deep as he could, and then a second one. “I wanted-”

“You wanted to what, Lan Zhan?”

“But I wanted -"

“But you nothing! Want? Want what?" his father kept pushing him, looking horrified and disgusted at the son before him.

Lan Zhan stopped swirling as that question penetrated him to his core. What does he want? He wants Wei Ying. His focus sharpens to anger as he realizes with clarity what his father is suggesting. "I do not care," he begins each word slowly and deliberately as for the first time in his life, Lan Zhan disobeys his father, "for your opinion on my life."

His father reeled back, Lan Zhan's retort a verbal slap to his face and the mythos of the man he has surrounded himself with all these years.

"You will care," his father ordered through clenched teeth. "I am just trying to look out for you, my son. Love is between a man and woman, Lan Zhan. This is a disgusting diversion that is distracting you from your purpose. Thankfully, I have already lined up a solution.”

Lan Zhan lifted his head to look at his father but said nothing. However, his father was used to Lan Zhan’s lack of words around him. 

“There are places that you can go. Places that will help fix whatever is confused in your head. They will fix you so you can be free of this disease. I will be proud of you again when you come home normal.” 

“No,” Lan Zhan breathed. Still unable to move, rooted to the earth, Lan Zhan spoke over the frantic beating of his heart, feeling a tiniest bit of reckless bravery at the wrongness of his father’s actions. 

His father hardened his gaze. “No?”

Lan Zhan clenched his hands together so hard his fingernails actively cut into his palms, dripping blood on the rug under his feet. “I will not -”

“You ‘will not’ nothing!” his father shouted over him. “You are going. You will do this or I will send these photos to Jiang and the university both. What will your ‘wanted to’ do then when he loses his scholarship and job?” 

Suddenly, Lan Zhan realized that this entire conversation had been free falling and now has smashed into the earth. His heart staggered to beat in his chest as he realized what his father was threatening to do to Wei Ying. 

“You can’t.”

“I can and I will!” Lan Zhan’s father stood up to look down at his son. “I looked into that boy and know all about him. A wretch who was taken in by his father’s friend, who might even be the offspring of that friend and his whore of a mother. His life and success lies far beneath you. And you will go unless you want to make that boy’s life a living hell. Pack your bag. I’ve ordered a car and you leave for fixing tonight. Don't come home till you are normal again.”

Sitting back down, the man Lan Zhan knew as his father turned to his computer. The discussion was over. But that didn’t mean Lan Zhan was finished. 

Bursting out of the study, Lan Zhan said nothing as he ran past his brother and uncle who had been listening at the doors. Into his room where his backpack lay half unpacked, he threw things at random, not really sure of what he was grabbing. His mind really only held two thoughts, each repeating in his mind like a holy mantra: He had to leave. He had to protect Wei Ying.

He would not go where his father wanted to send him. No, that man was not his father any more. 

Cutting through Lan Zhan's frantic packing, his brother knocked on the open door. “Are you okay?” Lan Huan slowly opened the door and hesitated before walking the few steps inside.

Not turning to face him as he continued to grab things to shove into his backpack, Lan Zhan asked, “Did you know?” 

Lan Huan was quiet before he said, “Maybe it’s for the best. Everyone makes mistakes. Yours just happens to have a name.” 

The weight of that sentiment settled into Lan Zhan’s very bones. 

Suddenly, his phone rang with a text. It was Wei Ying. ‘miss you already! home is quiet w out you …’ the rest of the message hidden beneath the preview. Lan Zhan had to keep Wei Ying safe. Throwing the phone in his pocket, Lan Zhan brushed past his brother (no, not his brother anymore) and down the stairs. He grabbed his shoes and jacket before silently slipping out the front door, echoes of his brother's words ringing in his ears.

Lan Zhan walked down the long path and out the gates, turning down two more roads before stopping at the edge of the natural pond on their neighbor’s property. He pulled the phone back out of his pocket.

He had to protect Wei Ying. Opening his banking app, he set up a transfer of his entire account to Wei Ying's. This would keep him safe from the apartment kicking him out, he thought to himself. The money taken care of, now there was only one thing left to do to keep him safe.

Hands shaking, Lan Zhan read the rest of Wei Ying’s message. 

Wei Ying: 

miss you already! home is quiet w out you but at least i ccan catch up on sleep! 😉 haha not really

let me kno when you are there so i can stop worrying about all the things that can happen

how many days til you come home?

Lan Zhan broke down, deep heaving sobs pulled up from the core of his being as he realized what he had to do. Though his eyes were blurred with tears, he began to type back to Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan: 

Can’t come home. Forget me. 

He sent the message before he lost his nerve. 

But the universe wasn’t kind to him as exactly three seconds later, the phone buzzed with a call. It was Wei Ying. Against his better judgement, he answered it. 

Wei Ying’s voice was shaking as he started without a hello, “Uh, Lan Zhan? What the fuck? What the fuck was that about?” Even though they are miles apart, Lan Zhan can hear the hurt and confusion and betrayal in Wei Ying’s voice. 

Lan Zhan pressed his lips together as he tried to find the words. He took deep breaths and haltingly started to explain. “We can’t. I need. I need to keep. You. Safe… This is how.” The words lingered in the air, broken and wanting. “I am sorry. I know you – Thought things were good. But.”

“Keep me safe?” Wei Ying’s voice was growing louder and rising in octaves. “Safe from what?! What the fuck, Lan Zhan? What is happening? Where are you?" A little ding was played over the speaker as Lan Zhan knew the bank transfer had gone through. A few taps later, Wei Ying began shouting, "What the actually- The fuck? What is this money? Are you, is this some pity-"

Lan Zhan knew that Wei Ying was pacing back and forth in their shared room, the 7 steps between one wall and the next, barely enough room for his energy to be contained. And now, Lan Zhan will never see that again. He didn’t want it to be this way, to have his final memories of Wei Ying be like this. He didn’t want to have anything final with him. 

“I wish. We had more. Time,” Lan Zhan managed to say between sobs. 

“Baby, no, we have time. Where are you?”

“Wei Ying. You were my light. In the dark,” Lan Zhan continued to say, his heart cut out and bleeding as he said the words he knew he could not keep trapped inside his chest any longer. Wei Ying had to know he was doing this for him. Wei Ying had to know that this was the only thing left for Lan Zhan to do. “Our friendship. You are my best friend. My only friend. I love you.”

“Oh my god,” Wei Ying says through the phone, his voice sounding tiny and far away. “Lan Zhan, what are you doing?” 

“I’m sorry. Forget me.”

With that, Lan Zhan hangs up. Immediately the phone rang again, buzzing in his hand. He watched as Wei Ying’s name flashed across the screen. His father can never have any piece of Wei Ying. So, Lan Zhan turns and throws the phone into the water. With a bloop, it vanishes, still ringing. Without a backwards glance, Lan Zhan vanishes, too. 

— 

The front door creaked open. His father had always wanted to repair the door, but his mother insisted that a creaking door was an extra security measure. An extra 5 seconds of warning before something happened was a long time. 

After her death, father never repaired the door. And it seems that uncle never repaired it either. 

Those five seconds now brought Lan Zhan once more to a layering of memories, one on top of the other and not sure which was now and what was then. 

In the time between the door squeaking open and shut, Lan Zhan pulled himself back to this moment. He left years ago. His father never did harm to Wei Ying. He kept Wei Ying safe. He vowed never to use the Lan name again. 

His father was dead. 

Thinking it was his brother, Lan Zhan lifted his head to tell him to go away. So he was rather surprised to find Lan Qiren standing next to him. 

“Your father was wrong,” Lan Qiren stated, words flat with no emotion. His uncle was always one for only speaking truths. For the first time, Lan Zhan wonders if the void of emotions in his uncle’s voice hides the ocean of feelings to contain them, just like Lan Zhan. “I was wrong because I did not stop him. What happened when you left, how you left, made me realize how wrong it all was.” 

Lan Qiren sat down with a slight ‘umph’ on the top step, a comfortable six feet away from Lan Zhan. When he sees that Lan Zhan doesn’t move, he continues. “What happened was wrong. However, I am unsure of how to make this right. I am unsure if you will be able to forgive me for the transgressions against you. Or, if you want to be part of this family moving forward. I will understand if you do not.”

Lan Zhan lifted his gaze, looking down and out across the lawn and driveway. The sun had set long ago but the golden solar lights cast long shadows across the yard. The street was illuminated with a single street lamp, casting a sodium yellow glow to make everything feel like a dream. 

“Your brother and I want you here. And there will always be a space for you. And if you are agreeable and open to it, we would like to get to know you.” 

Unclenching his fists, Lan Zhan gave a sigh. He considered what his uncle had said for several minutes, hoping that Lan Qiren felt a little uncomfortable in the beginning of an apology. He was surprised to find that he cared what his uncle felt. Finally, he replied, “I will consider it.” 

With nothing left to say, Lan Zhan stood up and walked down to the rental car. His brain was barely functional and he was glad that he already punched the hotel to the car nav system so he can basically auto-pilot back. He needs a shower. He needs to rid himself of these memories. He really can’t handle anything else thrown at him today. 

As he buckled the seat belt, a knock came from the passenger side window. It was Nie Mingjue. 

He motioned for the window to roll down. Bracing himself, Lan Zhan powered down the window but said nothing. 

“I know today was kinda the worst for you,” Nie Mingjue began. “But I think I know something to make it a little better. Well, my brother said to give you this.” He reached out towards the car, a folded slip of paper in his hands. “Here.” 

Lan Zhan accepted the paper with a nod. Message delivered, Nie Mingjue stepped back and watched as Lan Zhan drove away. 

As he walked back into the hotel room he had left only 3 hours ago (only three hours?) he exhaled a sigh of not quite relief but certainly something. He pulled his jacket off and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, now no longer crisp after having been sweaty all evening. He pulled out the shirt tails before pulling out the chair at the desk to untie his shoes. It’s then that he realized that he never grabbed his shoes on the way out and had driven back in the house slippers his brother gave him. He never liked those shoes anyway. 

Emptying his pockets, the phone, car keys, wallet, and slip of paper all get tossed onto the hotel desk before he turns to the bathroom to begin a very long, very cold shower. 

Shower completed, the day washed out of his hair, piercings put back in, and feeling a little more settled into himself, Lan Zhan sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the folded paper Nie Mingjue had handed him. What was written? 

Against his better judgement, Lan Zhan reached across the space from where he sat to where he was a few minutes ago. He grabbed the paper and unfolded it. A phone number was written there. One he didn’t recognize. 

Deciding that his day had been full of nothing but bad decisions, Lan Zhan reached across the gap once more to grab his phone and dialed the strange number. 

It rang once. It rang twice. Damn Nie Mingjue. The number he gave was probably a fake or something. 

“Hello?” A voice answered across the other side. He knew that voice. “Hello? Damn it, Sang Sang, do you need me to fetch you again? You know I can't leave the kid!” The voice asked again. 

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan was able to whisper. 

A gasp was heard. Across time and space Lan Zhan felt the sun rise in his heart as he heard an answer, “Lan Zhan?”