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One of Sun Xiang’s favorite things about Samsara—and there were a lot, enough that he could pick at least one for every day of the week—was the monthly team outings to a nearby karaoke bar. It was close enough to walk to, and the proprietor let them use the side door to reach the large private room they reserved, which meant that they usually weren’t bothered by anyone wanting to exclaim over Zhou Zekai or ask for autographs.
They’d go on a Tuesday in the middle of the month, usually on the earlier side of the evening, and stay for as long as everyone was awake and having fun. Hours, often, of singing and teasing each other and requesting specific songs.
Conquering Clouds had done something similar, Sun Xiang remembered, but not as frequently. They’d been a new team, and scrambling to try and keep up with the powerhouses of the Alliance. Besides, he’d been too young and arrogant then to appreciate what his captain had been aiming for. All Sun Xiang had seen, back then, was how he outshone everyone around him and could demand respect for his skills.
In Excellent Era… Sun Xiang didn’t like thinking about Excellent Era’s shitty excuses for team bonding, especially that first season. Xiao Shiqin had tried his best to mend things during their year in Challenger League, but he’d only been able to gather half the team at best for bonding trips like this. Patching a sinking boat, he’d said, and Sun Xiang had only understood just how bad Excellent Era was after seeing how easy and expected these nights were for Samsara.
Samsara had been coming to this karaoke bar since the team was established, and Sun Xiang hadn’t known what to do with that sense of history during his first months with the team. He’d charged forward as best he could with wide smiles and laughter at his own shitty sense of pitch as he took up any challenge thrown his way, and let Zhou Zekai draw him into duets while Jiang Botao laughed and took recordings to share with friends on other teams.
By the end of the summer, he’d known which songs to mock Fang Minghua for picking because his wife loved them, which songs the whole team were required to sing along to in riotous cacophony, and which songs were best to slip away from for a bathroom break.
And now, in the too-short break between the main season’s finals and when Sun Xiang and Zhou Zekai would leave to join the National Glory Team for the Glory World Invitational—
Well, now Sun Xiang sat in the midst of his teammates, a full member of their team and an integral piece of their glory. Jiang Botao pressed against his side, arm around Sun Xiang’s back and chin on his shoulder, the scent of his questionable taste in beer heavy in the air by Sun Xiang’s face as Jiang Botao said, “He’s so good,” like this was a new revelation instead of a fact Jiang Botao had to have known for years.
“Yeah,” Sun Xiang said, as he always did, leaning back into his partner. “He is.”
It was one thing to know, from advertisements and interviews, that Zhou Zekai was a good singer. It was another thing to watch his boyfriend—their boyfriend; how had he gotten so lucky?—cradle the karaoke mic in his hands and sing so beautifully Sun Xiang would’ve sworn it was a professional cover if he hadn’t been able to see Zhou Zekai. His eyes were closed; the karaoke subs were almost more for the rest of the team as they listened to their captain croon along to one of Jacky Cheung’s love songs.
He’d asked Zhou Zekai about it over the winter, still tentative and uncertain in his affections, and Zhou Zekai had said, “Repetition is easier,” then glanced past him to where Jiang Botao sat on his other side. Jiang Botao had smiled back and said, “He’s a really good mimic, especially when everyone knows what he’s already going to say. Singing karaoke is one of the best forms of that.”
Later—after Sun Xiang had come back from New Years full of parental admonishments to just talk to whoever he was so clearly crushing on, after Jiang Botao had said he wanted it to be all three of them together and Sun Xiang had nodded and Zhou Zekai had kissed him—Sun Xiang learned that Zhou Zekai had taken singing lessons in his youth, and could play the piano pretty well too, and was obnoxiously multi-talented.
But he still chose Glory over all of that.
Sun Xiang watched Zhou Zekai, the way his bangs flopped over his face and his soft clothes draped across the long lines of his body, and knew his expression must be overwhelmingly love-struck; everyone would start teasing him about it in a moment. But before then, Zhou Zekai’s eyes fluttered open and he caught Sun Xiang’s gaze, and Zhou Zekai gave him a brilliant smile in between two phrases of the song.
The wolf-whistle Du Ming let out was louder than the music for a second, and then Lu Boyuan scooted closer on the couch to elbow Sun Xiang and stage-whisper, “How’s it feel to be a celebrity’s partner?”
Sun Xiang flushed, ducking his head. Jiang Botao laughed and said, “Pretty good, thanks.” He was so much better at responding quickly to the team’s teasing; practice, he said, but Sun Xiang just didn’t think he got ruffled so easily.
“I wasn’t asking you.” Lu Boyuan swatted lazily at Jiang Botao. “Let xiao-Sun speak for himself.”
Sun Xiang caught Lu Boyuan’s wrist as it passed him, preventing him from playfully swatting Jiang Botao. “He’s right, though.” Sun Xiang could speak to interviewers without a problem; why did his tongue stumble so much here? “It’s nice.”
“You hear that?” Fang Minghua called as the music faded out. “Xiao-Sun thinks you’re just nice, xiao-Zhou!”
Zhou Zekai shrugged and came back to their booth. “I am nice.” He considered them for a moment, then turned and stuck the mic in Wu Qi’s face. “Your turn.”
Wu Qi groaned, the mic amplifying it through the room. “I was just getting comfy.” He took the mic, though, and said, “What if I just keep lying here? Someone else can queue up the song, right?”
Zhou Zekai looked pointedly at Lu Boyuan, who stood with a laugh. “I took your spot, yeah? Okay, captain, I’ll pay my penance and help Qiqi out.”
“Fuck you,” Wu Qi said at the nickname.
Sun Xiang didn’t bother following the rest of Wu Qi and Lu Boyuan’s bickering over the next song. Zhou Zekai had sat down next to him, and that was much more important. “You’re so good at this,” Sun Xiang said, taking Zhou Zekai’s hand. “It’s always a treat to listen to you sing.”
Jiang Botao reached across Sun Xiang to tug Zhou Zekai closer, and Zhou Zekai complied with a laugh cut off by Jiang Botao’s obnoxiously loud smack of a kiss. Sun Xiang shook his head, laughing, as Du Ming whined about their horrible dogfood habits and Fang Minghua started sighing about his wife.
It was good, Sun Xiang thought, to be on such a loving team.
Even if it did mean being mocked by Wu Qi and Lu Boyuan’s song choice and having popcorn thrown at them.