Chapter Text
Jian Yi hasn't come back yet, and Zhan Zheng Xi is pissed off. He has a long ass seminar to attend first thing tomorrow morning, at the editorial block where his classes were scheduled. College was a bitch.
He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose and marvels at the idiot's irresponsibility. It is basically a routine that he has to continue or else he would go mad. He is not ecstatic about this state of affairs—
"A-Xi!" There he is. The ball of madness, all excited and beaming. The little shit.
Zhan Zheng Xi simply looks at the dipshit, trying to figure out if this was going to be some constant in his life that he would rather not like to think about. Jian Yi's smile becomes wider—if that was possible—when he sees him standing in the doorway. His black blazer is slung over his shoulder, white shirt sleeves rolled up high.
"Why are you late?" He braces an arm against the doorframe, wondering whether the bastard was actually drunk. He had gone drinking, hadn't he?
"I came to see you." Jian Yi laughs, smile lopsided as he comes closer. The unnatural glint in his eyes reminds Zhan Zheng Xi of a vulture. It is gone the next instant, whatever had been there. Maybe he was imagining things.
"Get inside." Hs says, gesturing towards the door. "Dipshit. It is past midnight. I should be putting your ass out on the curb."
"But you'd never do that." Jian Yi yawns, pausing before him. "I wanted to drag you to the party, but you wouldn't come."
Jian Yi's breath stinks of alcohol, and Zhan Zheng Xi blanches. It is strong, and he notices the beginnings of a pleasant flush fanning over Jian Yi's perspiring skin. The idiot is watching closely, so observant for an easily distracted fool like him. Zhan Zheng Xi attempts to put some space between them, but Jian Yi doesn't give him an opportunity to, almost tripping over his heels as he wobbles, managing to close the distance between them.
"I asked you to get inside." He murmurs, a bit irked at how unscrupulous Jian Yi is. The asshole just throws back his head, laughing.
"I can't." He smiles when he is done, eyes overly bright. "I am waiting for you, A-Xi."
"Why? And don't call me that, fuck." He says, grabbing both shoulders of the drunken idiot and trying to keep him steady. It is a small miracle that Jian Yi doesn't try to fight him off. Last time he had been drunk, Zhan Zheng Xi had ended up with a bleeding nose and a sprained finger to boot.
Jian Yi laughs, then bounces up on his heels like an over-excited pup, before falling on him. Or more precisely, Zhan averts both of them from crash landing onto the floor, causing Jian Yi to grab his collar, nearly choking him.
"Let go—" He breathes, pissed off. Jian Yi doesn't listen, pulling his face towards him.
"I can't wait any longer." Jian Yi's breath is humid against his lips. "I want this...I want this."
Zhan swallows. The idiot has finally lost his damn mind. He gently, but forcefully pries off the finger off his collar. And what was the answer to that? He wasn't blind. This was drunken talk. Jian Yi suddenly goes silent. A pregnant pause takes up the space between them, and he lets go of Jian Yi, stepping back into the room and pursing his lips.
"This isn't over." It makes him jump, that sudden, loud, brazen tone that Jian Yi takes.
"What the hell are you talking about?" He grits his teeth. "Go to the couch, asshole. Don't blame me if you have a bloody headache tomorrow."
"I said, this isn't over." This isn't Jian Yi—this manic asshole who was staring at him now, eyes over-bright with some undefinable emotion.
"I have—I've waited for five years." Jian Yi clutches his head, before sinking to the floor. Zhan moves on instinct, the way he had not hesitated to do when he had been a teenager—when both of them had been stupid teenagers—before sense overtakes him, and he clenches his fist. Jian Yi can no longer affect him now, he tells himself. His chest aches reflexively when Jian Yi buries his face into his hands. He tells himself he doesn't care, not when the asshole had left him seven years ago.
"Idio—Jian Yi, get up."
He doesn't listen. Of course.
Jian Yi leaps up out of nowhere, tackling him onto the floor. Zhan Zheng Xi stares at the ceiling like a fool—widened eyes and all—before he lands hard on the settee, his head barely missing the carved wood of the armrest.
"Bastard." He growls, furious beyond belief.
Jian Yi has him now, looming over him like a sleek hyena, the lamplight bouncing off against one mysterious canine tooth peeking out of his mouth. His pale hair is tangled, framing his defined, dangerous features well. Zhan Zheng Xi feels drunk, and this is impermissible. He acknowledges the hard jut of something familiar pressed up against his groin with something akin to horror, but the physical nature of his body that had been repressed for far too long betrays him, and something warm and hot uncoils like poison ropes in his lower half. He pants, hips buckling in an effort to push Jian Yi off him.
When he is sure that both of them were fucked, Jian Yi's lips bury into his sandy hair, murmuring incoherent nonsense that he can't seem to catch. The faint, vignette yellow of the lamp bathes both of them, and there is no sound in the room other than their harsh, accelerated breaths. Jian Yi shifts his hips, which elicits a curse from him, and he braces his palms against the bastard's chest.
"Do you hate me, A-Xi?" Jian Yi asks, and Zhan Zheng Xi refuses to let the weakness of the memory that he has of that one day take him.
Seven years ago, seven years too late.
The memory of salty tears and unusual surprises. Déjà vu takes him like a powerful wave. Except, in the past, the question had been something about being abnormal. He remembers embracing Jian Yi, and telling him that he wasn't abnormal. His breath hitches in his throat when Jian Yi repeats it to him again.
"Yeah." He squeezes his eyes shut. "Yeah, I do, fucking bastard. I fucking hate you."
He still thinks of that day when he had come to the painful realization that Jian Yi had left for good, probably to some far away, dilapidated place in North China, away from Hangzhou. Those high school days without Jian Yi had been black and white, tinged with him recalling the memories of their boyhood, of both of them together. The worst part was remembering the promises that he had kept for Jian Yi, of protecting him for the entirety of their lives. The bastard had then chosen to disappear without any explanation, causing him to spiral down a deep, dark hole that he never knew existed. It had hurt like a bitch, it did.
Then, when the asshole came back, things had taken a 360 degree spin.
"I am sorry for leaving you like that." Jian Yi's voice is hoarse, and Zhan Zheng Xi looks at the ceiling with blurred eyes, wondering if he really was drunk. When he looks down and sees the boy's hurt face, his hand automatically reaches to stroke Jian Yi's damp cheeks—a silent apology for the harshness of his words.
Jian Yi mumbles some incomprehensible shit, before shifting his hips some more. Zhan Zheng Xi's hips jerk without his volition, and his face scalds rapidly as Jian Yi gyrates on him, all the while moaning like a cat in heat.
"Get off me!" He headbutts the bastard, who reels back, surprised. Jian Yi grins mischievously, and Zhan Zheng Xi's eyes widen when the bastard grips the back of his head, before soft lips cloak over his own.