Chapter Text
Yibo gets it: he does. He grew up as an idol trainee, practically raised by slightly older, feral boys, (some of whom were also raised by even slightly older, equally feral boys). For a large chunk of his life, his family consisted of an angelic, long-suffering mother (Yixuan); an alien father (Sungjoo); a demonic older brother (Wenhan); and the embodiment of chaos (Seungyoun). He would die for those bastards, he would. So he gets it.
Doesn’t mean that he has to like this. It doesn’t mean he has to be happy about sharing the first few uninterrupted days they’ve been able to coordinate in six months with some interloper from Xiao Zhan’s past. Doesn’t mean he has to like walking through the front door of their (their!) new apartment to find his baby surrounded by boxes fussing about how to get their (their!) place ready for some other guy.
Not that Yibo’s a jealous man. Not at all. Well, okay, he is occasionally. But only on the inside. On the outside, he’s stone cold. A paragon of chill. No one would ever suspect.
But Xiao Zhan’s had a rough year, and Yibo knows how much he’s missed the Xnine idiots. Ever since the great schism of 2019 he’s barely engaged with them at all. They have their little group chat, and Xiao Zhan had dinner with Wu Jiacheng five months ago, but lately, Yibo’s seen more of Xnine than Xiao Zhan.
So when his hardworking boyfriend asked Yibo if it would be cool if Xia Zhiguang stayed with them for a few days – the three days that happened to coincide with their coordinated holiday- what was Yibo going to say? It sure as hell wasn’t going to be ‘no’: he couldn’t deny that face anything. He was powerless when Xiao Zhan turned those eyes on him. And when that bottom lip plumped up and slipped out in a soft pout? Fuck, he was cooked.
He didn’t realise just how important this was to Xiao Zhan, though. Not until he opened the door to their new love nest and had to do a double take at the number on the door to make sure he entered the right unit.
Before flying across the country to film his latest variety show, Yibo had left a builder’s beige box with a few pieces of old furniture. Now it looks like a fucking Cribs episode. The place is an explosion of style: floor to ceiling art pieces, cool sculptural wood tables with shell inlays, cozy oversized leather sofas. When he arrived, three members of XZStudio greeted him on their way out, carrying boxes of product that didn’t pass their boss’s critical eye.
Of course, they’ve been talking about what to do with the apartment for months, Xiao Zhan asking him for his opinion on this table or that lamp or some weird modern sculpture. But Yibo didn’t expect his boyfriend to have pulled the trigger on their every domestic accord. The man and his studio have been busy as hell- they didn’t have time to play decorator too. Or so he thought.
Yibo had to wade through all the online shopping debris to find his boyfriend, who was practically buried under a mound of cardboard and bubble wrap. Red-faced and wild-haired, like a mad artist loopy on lead-based paint, Xiao Zhan was still as handsome as ever when Yibo finally got his hands on his partner. Not that he doubted his baby’s handsomeness, just sometimes they didn’t see each other for months and Yibo forgot.
The team left them to finish up things on their own, and after far too few kisses and a quick grope Yibo was assigned the task of putting the new dishes away while Xiao Zhan configured and reconfigured a half dozen pillows on their sofa.
Which leads to Yibo, in this moment, feeling a bit salty about having to wash dishes he didn’t even dirty when they should be christening every surface of their new love nest.
“It’s not right,” Xiao Zhan rearranges the cushions on the sofa for the fifth time and takes three steps back to survey his work, scratching his head. “Aiyo, it still looks like a dorm in here.”
“Then shouldn’t he feel right at home?” Yibo snipes from the kitchen. And as far as he knows, Xnine’s unofficial maknae went from being fifteen, to living with a bunch of guys in Xnine, to living with a bunch of guys in R1SE. Surely the kid’ll just be relieved to be somewhere that doesn’t smell like crusty gym socks and ass. It’ll probably be the first time he’s slept in clean sheets in a year.
Yibo still remembers the first time he and Seungyoung were told they had to wash their sheets themselves. It was a revelation.
Whatever. Xiao Zhan finds solace in order and beauty. Besides, it has to be done. Xiao Zhan’s parents are coming to visit next month and there’s no way either of them are going to let their parents sleep on an old mattress on the floor in the guest room.
And again, Yibo gets it: this is the first time one of Xiao Zhan’s band members have come to stay with them. Even though Xiao Zhan gets along well with most of his old brothers, there’s still some tension there. XNine was a trial by fire, and they all bear the burn marks to prove it.
Yibo finishes the last dish and wanders back into the living room. He presses his chest against Xiao Zhan’s back, wraps his arms around him and kisses his jaw. “Zhan-ge, chill. It’s not like your mom’s coming to visit. The kid’s not expecting some Home and Garden bullshit. He’s coming to see you – he doesn’t care if the stripey pillow clashes with the zig-zags.”
“It’s called chevron, Lao Wang, and they don’t clash they’re in the same palette. It’s okay to pattern mix if they’re in the same palette. Oh my fucking god, why does this clash so badly?” He groans into his hands. “I just want our place to look like a proper grown-up apartment. Like we actually have a life here and we’re not living out of suitcases three-hundred days of the year. Guang Guang is such a worrier. I want him to be able to relax while he visits. I want to hear about what’s going on in his life, not field a hundred teary questions about my health and punishing work schedule.”
“. . .I take back what I said. It sounds exactly like mom’s coming to visit.”
Xiao Zhan turns to face him and tangles his hands in Yibo’s hair. “He’s such a good, kind-hearted kid. The other guys and I, we may’ve spoiled him a bit too much, but it’s because he deserved to be spoiled. He was so immature when he left home. It was our job to take care of him – not just his health, but his mind. His attitude. His sense of the world. I want him to know what normal looks like because idoldom is anything but.”
“Zhan-ge, look at who you’re talking to. If anyone understands this kid, it’s me.”
Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows pop up in surprise. It’s very cute, but Yibo’s anticipating a jab. “Excuse me? There’s no way you were ever as sweet as Guang Guang. I know what you get up to when the lights are off.”
“I was terribly sweet – ask Yixuan or Sungjoo. You corrupted me.”
He winces. “Aiyo, don’t say that. Some days I already feel weird enough about our age difference.”
“You did.” Yibo kisses the crook of Xiao Zhan’s neck and slides his hands down his partner’s ass, squeezing it as though he’s testing bread at the market. “You turned me from a sweet, innocent ingenue –“
“Excuse me? Ingenue? You started in this industry before me. . .”
“-from an innocent ingenue to an absolute sex fiend. What do you have to say for yourself? Some role model for Chinese youth: you should be ashamed.” Yibo slides his hands under the waistband to get a handful of soft flesh.
“. . .You’re so full of shit.” Xiao Zhan tugs at his hair and pulls him in for a sloppy kiss. Yibo groans into it, relishing the sound of his voice resonating down Xiao Zhan’s throat.
He breaks contact just to ask, “what time is the kid getting here?”
“In about twenty minutes, ” Xiao Zhan laments.
“That’s. Plenty. Of time,” Yibo breathes, shoving Xiao Zhan’s trousers down his hips, catching his briefs in the process. He drops to his knees so fast, as though he’s late for a count.
“Shit. Shit, Yibo. Stop,” Xiao Zhan pants as Yibo swallows him down in one enthusiastic gulp, breathing in sweet musky, bready scent, tasting the familiar salty tang. “I’m not done setting up the guest room, and there’s so much packaging we have to break down and take out to the recycling . . .ah, oh, fuck I missed you.”
Since they only manage a few days off together a month, plus the occasional shmoozefest or awards show, they’re well-versed in the ways of the quickie. They perfected the art during the press junket for their drama, stealing handjobs in green rooms and frantic thigh-fucks in between interviews. It’s not ideal, but one of the many reasons they work so well together is because they are equally randy for each other.
He slows it down, laying greedy, open-mouthed kisses up and down the shaft as he roughly massages the tension out of those strong thighs. Xiao Zhan’s wound so tight, but thankfully it’s just superficial stress. If it were something deeper Xiao Zhan’s cock wouldn’t be this hard already. Baby’s just working too much: he needs a bit of spoiling
“Zhan-ge, I don’t think you’re jerking off enough.”
Xiao Zhan laughs. “How can you tell?” He gasps and flinches as Yibo applies pressure to his perineum. “Ah. I. . .I’m just so tired I fall asleep the moment I hit the pillow.”
“Do it in the morning, then. You’re too stressed.” He will never forget Wenhan telling him that a man needed to have sex or jerk off at least once a day or he’d get clogged up and have a heart attack at forty. That’s the kind of bullshit education you get as an idol trainee. And even though he knows it’s bullshit, Wenhan’s stupid rule has become a tenet of how he lives his life.
“Okay, Lao Wang. I’ll . . .ah. . .hah. . .I’ll jerk off every day for you. I promise.”
“Gught.” Yibo’s voice is muffled as his mouth is wrapped around the head of Xiao Zhan’s cock.
Yibo’s an allrounder: choreography, improvisation, battle. He can fist his boyfriend’s dick, fingerfuck him and suck his cockhead like a hoover in perfect synchronisation. When it seems like Xiao Zhan is about to cum too soon, he switches it up, slowing down the performance to a lazy jerk, while hurling loving teasing insults at his red-faced love.
When Xiao Zhan gets too annoyed and horny and starts to ruthlessly fuck Yibo’s mouth, Yibo is ready for it, knowing when to sacrifice ground. He’ll win in the end. Xiao cums with a holler, crumpling. Yibo catches his boyfriend in his arms, and Xiao Zhan’s spunk in his mouth.
He gives his love a few seconds to catch his breath. Then he spits the wad into his hand.
Xiao Zhan huffs a laugh. “Wang Yibo, we’re at home. I can grab some lu–“
“-I remember someone saying how much he loves it when I fuck him with his own load.” Yibo pulls Xiao Zhan on top of him in a dirty kiss, licking the scummy residue against the roof of his lover’s mouth. “Do you want that, baby?”
Xiao Zhan’s eyes darken and narrow dangerously in that way that makes Yibo’s heart race. His man’s about to say something absolutely fucking filthy and blow Yibo’s mind. All of their best nights and worst plans start out this way. . .
Both their phones ring simultaneously and there’s only one thing that could mean: it’s the concierge. Their visitor is here. And he’s early.
It’s decided: Yibo hates this kid.
Xiao Zhan sighs, tucks himself back into his trousers, and stands. He gives Yibo an apologetic look. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. We’ll do whatever you choose. You might want to. . . er, I have those running shorts, the compression ones in my second drawer if you want?”
Yibo doesn’t want. Or rather, he does want and this is the problem. “I need a shower anyway.”
“It’s true. You stink like airport.” Xiao Zhan plants a kiss on Yibo’s cheek. “Oh, could you have a look around the bedroom to see if Jianguo’s hiding in there? I haven’t seen her since they started delivering the furniture.” He grabs his phone and rushes for the door, leaving Yibo standing in the middle of their living room surrounded by pillows and packaging, holding a handful of splooge and pitching a generous tent for two.
Yibo takes an extended shower, jerking it for the first time in their new stall, using Xiao Zhan’s high-end conditioner as lubricant (it’s basically just hand lotion for your hair, right?). The stuff actually makes his pubes feel nice and soft. They probably smell like Xiao Zhan’s head. He’ll see if Xiao Zhan notices the next time his face is buried in Yibo’s crotch.
He grabs his favourite old cargo pants (which Xiao Zhan stole on his last trip) and a long sleeve tee he thinks is his. It’s a bit tighter than he remembers, so maybe it’s not his. Then again, he’s put on a decent amount of muscle since he wore it last thanks to recent weight training, so maybe it just fits differently. Again, he hopes Xiao Zhan notices.
Jianguo’s hiding under the bed, as expected. Yibo tries to lure her out with a treat but she refuses, turning her cheek and ignoring him. Since she’ll probably be under there until Zhiguang leaves, he makes a mental note to move her water and food into the bedroom. He’s not sure where the team has set up her litter box.
Yibo knows Xia Zhiguang has arrived because he can hear Xiao Zhan’s giggling even through the cement walls. Everyone teases him about his selective deafness, but Yibo’s ear is definitely trained to home in on that giggle like a narco dog on a baggie of smack.
But then, there’s a new sound: a scream he doesn’t recognise. It sounds weird. Distressed.
Yibo strides into the living room to find Xiao Zhan lying on the ground, on his new rug, eyes closed, clutching his stomach. Seeing that, his vision tunnels. Yibo runs over, skidding to his knees at his boyfriend’s side.
“Zhan-ge?”
Xiao Zhan gasps but says nothing. He’s shaking under Yibo’s hands.
“Zhan-ge! Zhan-ge, what’s wrong? Zhan-ge! Say something.”
Xiao Zhan pats around beside him for something. Yibo pulls his phone out of his pocket to call the EMT.
Squeeeak! Squeeeak squeeeak!
There is a rubber chicken screaming in his face.
On the floor, Xiao Zhan is shuddering with laughter, crying even, so overcome he can’t manage a single sound.
-_- : “Zhan-ge.”
His boyfriend makes the chicken scream again. And again. And again.
It is one of the worst sounds he’s ever heard.
“Zhan-ge . . .” Yibo winces at yet another chicken scream.
Xiao Zhan wheezes and manages, “Ah, Lao Wang, look at what Guang Guang brought me! We had these on Xfire and none of us got a moment’s peace.”
Yibo grabs it by the neck and elicits two more squeaks – one from his boyfriend and one from the toy. “I thought you were hurt.”
“Well, that’s on you. Really, Wang Yibo, you shouldn’t be so attentive and caring. Someone might take advantage of your good nature,” Xiao Zhan teases, hooding his eyes in a delectable come-hither fashion.
Yibo snorts, trying not to laugh. “I hate you so much.” He brackets his hands on either side of Xiao Zhan’s head and leans in for a kiss.
Squeeak! Squeeak! Squeeeeak!
He stops in mid-air and glances over at the sofa, at the ball of denim and flannel curled up around a second rubber chicken, face peeking out from under a mop of bleached, overlong idol hair, snorting and sniggering to himself.
Oh. Right. With a sigh, Yibo sits up.
Xiao Zhan props himself up on his elbows. “Wang Yibo, meet Xia Zhiguang: the baby of our red group back in Xfire. Now R1se’s main dancer and soon to be graduate of Shanghai Theatre Academy. Guang Guang, this is. . . my boyfriend: Wang Yibo.”
Something is wrong with this introduction. Yibo turns to his boyfriend. “That’s it? He gets a whole spiel and I get ‘your boyfriend? Is that all I am?”
Xiao Zhan cocks his head and gives Yibo a dangerous smile, saying pleasantly, “Wang Yibo, are you joking? He knows who you are. All of China knows . . .fine. Fine.” He addresses their guest. “Xia Zhiguang, I would like to present to you Wang Yibo-Laoshi, main dancer and rapper for K-pop sensation UNIQ; r&b soloist extraordinaire; award-winning actor; highly sought-after model and spokesman; champion moto racer for Yamaha, accomplished athlete, generous philanthropist and all around narcissistic pain in my ass.”
Because he knows his boyfriend’s sense of humour, Yibo isn’t bothered by the bite at the end of the introduction. Besides, Xiao Zhan said way more good things than bad, so it counts as a win.
Xia Zhiguang stands and bows, clasping his hands in front of him. “It’s so great to finally meet you, Wang Laoshi. I’m a fan – I really respect the work you do.”
Okay, maybe this kid isn’t so bad.
“You’re so accomplished. Dancing, rapping, singing, acting, modelling, moto-”
“That’s enough of that,” interrupts Xiao Zhan. “His face may be small but his head is so fat. Don’t gas him up with rainbow farts or else it won’t fit through the door.”
Yibo takes a moment to give the kid the once over. Now that he’s standing, he’s surprised to see Zhiguang is tall: even taller than he is. Maybe the same height as Xiao Zhan. He looked small curled up on sofa and Yibo’s only seen old Xnine footage of the kid since he’s been too busy to keep track of R1se. Also, Xiao Zhan isn’t in R1se, so he’s less motivated to compulsively watch R1se videos at three a.m. while holed up at hotels missing his partner.
Zhiguang’s slim, but has broad shoulders and an open stance. Even from just the way he uncurled to stand, Yibo can read his body, his dance. There is a fluid laxity to him, like an old action figure with loose ball joints, and there’s low-key but full extension in his limbs. Yibo can see the contemporary jazz in his posture, but his stance has the grounding of a hip hop dancer.
He’s a good-enough looking kid. Not as handsome as Yibo himself, but few people are, so that’s not the kid’s fault. Smiling eyes, sweet curving mouth, broad nose and thick baby cheeks. Yibo doesn’t envy him those cheeks – every day Yibo checks the mirror to see if his weight training is working his cheeks away too. It hasn’t. He can’t wait to have a little more dimension to his face. Maybe it’ll make people take him more seriously, especially as an actor.
But Zhiguang doesn’t need that. He’s still dancing for screaming fifteen-year-old girls who want a safe, baby-faced dreamboat that lightly resembles the pillow they use for kissing practice. He should keep his fat cheeks as long as possible.
Fine. The kid seems okay. Yibo stands and offers a hand. “Call me Yibo. Zhan-ge’s brothers are mine as well.”
Zhiguang takes his hand, his face shy, but his grip almost bruising. Strong kid.
“Thanks Yibo-ge. Please call me Guang Guang. Everyone does.” Soft, sunny smile as he releases Yibo’s hand.
Xiao Zhan sits up, crossing his long legs under him. “Eh, Guang Guang. Have you eaten? We can order something in. What’re you in the mood for? Anything you want. Your geges are paying.”
Gege? Yibo’s a. . .Wow. That’s too weird.
“Naw, Zhan Zhan and Yibo-ge just got home. We should eat what they want to eat.”
Zhan Zhan. Zhan Zhan and . . .
“Hot pot then? I’ve been craving it and there’s this place we order from when we’re in town. The owners are so sweet and discreet. I’ll have my assistant drop the pot off tomorrow.”
“If that’s what Zhan Zhan wants! I can’t handle spicy, though. Oh, and not –“
“-no mushroom broth. Or mushrooms. I remember. How can I forget the great mushroom fiasco of Summer 2017?” Xiao Zhan laughs, his eyes crescent-ing in their fondness.
Yibo’s stomach flutters, as it always does when his Zhan-ge looks that way.
Except Xiao Zhan’s not looking at Yibo.
Xiao Zhan starts to get up off the floor and Yibo reaches down and grabs him, hoisting him up, his arm snaking around Xiao Zhan’s waist. There’s enough heft to the hoist that Xiao Zhan has to slap his hands on Yibo’s shoulders to stop the momentum. And so they’re in a perfect position.
“Thanks, Lao Wang. What do you want?”
“You,” Yibo murmurs close to his ear.
Long suffering sigh. “I mean for hot pot. Are you feeling mild or are you leaning spicy –“
“Spicy.” He presses a whisper of a kiss just below Xiao Zhan’s ear and is rewarded with a shiver.
“Not in front of Guang Guang. Don’t make him uncomfortable.” Xiao Zhan glares at him before slipping out of his arms to find his phone and order.
“Yeah. Him.” Yibo smirks to himself, watching his man’s ass shift with every elongated step. He’s stopped wearing skinny jeans in public, they both have – too much scrutiny, too many close-up ass shots floating around Weibo – but Yibo’s glad he didn’t throw every pair out.
Out of the corner of his eye he catches Guang Guang watching him with a weird half-smile.
“What?”
“Oh. Nothing. It’s just . . . You’re really into our Zhan Zhan, aren’t you?”
Cheeky little shit. Yibo snorts. “Grab your stuff. I’ll get you set up in the spare room.”
They have dinner at Xiao Zhan and Yibo’s new dining room table, which Yibo vaguely remembers picking from a choice of three almost identical wooden tables. It’s been a while since he went spicy – his mouth is a little out of practice – but he only sweats a little. In the intimate lighting of their new chandelier that looks like a drunk lotus flower, he doubts anyone notices.
They order half and half for Zhiguang, and keep the mushrooms out of the clear broth. Xiao Zhan is back on the spicy train after a year of eating bland food for his nerves. His forehead glistens with perspiration as he excitedly recounts a story that took place during a taping of their silly show, one that involves the boys rolling up together in blankets. He’s full-on sweating by the time he and Zhiguang are commiserating about their concerts.
Flushed and sweating is Yibo’s favourite version of his boyfriend, even if it’s just the peppers working him into a lather.
“Aiyo, our concerts were such shitshows. A handful of days to rehearse, half-done choreo. We didn’t even have a proper sound team. Weren’t we a singing group? How can singers not have proper sound engineers? Some of these groups that’s all they have: they’re basically robots, more auto-tune than tune.” Xiao Zhan fans his tongue with his hand.
“They were still fun, though. And the Stay Online concert was on your birthday! We ate cake in front of thousands of people.”
“That’s true. That was . . . a really great birthday.”
“I remember Zhan Zhan went out with his new friends instead of celebrating with us.” Was Xia Zhiguang pouting? “Were you two dating even then?”
Yibo and Xiao Zhan exchange glances. They got a hotel that night, drank everything in the mini-bar and tried out some kinky shit from a MDZS doujin. One of their top ten fuckfests for sure.
Yibo coughs.
Xiao Zhan answers: “We were both too busy then. It happened later.”
“Oh.” Zhiguang purses his lips. “I’m surprised. Huan Huan said he thought you started dating during filming –“
“-It happened later.” Yibo interrupts Zhiguang.
‘Huan Huan’ – Peng Chu Yue – wasn’t entirely wrong. They were definitely hooking up during filming. But it took time to sort that mess into anything official. Not that the kid needs to know any of that.
Yibo redirects. “So they treating your new crew better than Xnine?”
Zhiguang nods. “I’d say so. I’m getting more support. In Xnine they just ignored the younger line. We were trapped in our contracts but never got any breaks. There were so many times I had to borrow money from Zhan Zhan to pay my rent and tuition. Now that I’m older I’m going for more auditions, more variety shows, and I’m getting more attention. I have more freedom. They treat me like a man. It’s partly because of Zhan Zhan.”
“Guang Guang, that’s not true. . .”
“It is! More people became interested in Xnine when you got so popular! And because of the lawsuit people started to pay attention to how we were being treated. Even though you didn’t win for yourself, you won for us.” Zhiguang smiles shyly. “You were still taking care of us, ge.”
Xiao Zhan snorts. “I think you’re vastly overestimating my influence.”
“Never. Zhan Zhan is our country’s greatest treasure. I’ve always known it and now everyone does.”
Huh. It’s weird to hear someone else rainbow fart Xiao Zhan. Yibo adds, “I agree. It’s impossible to overestimate superstar Xiao Zhan’s influence. From selling luxury goods to promoting dramas to online beauty polls, Zhan-ge is heads above all others.”
Xiao Zhan glares at them, each in equal measure. “Shut up and eat. You’re both too noisy.”
“But how can anyone stay silent in the face of superstar Xiao Zhan’s-“ Yibo catches the spray of coriander Xiao Zhan chucks at his face. His boyfriend bares his teeth and it’s so so cute.
Zhiguang sets down his chopsticks and pats his belly. “I can’t eat any more. That was so good, ge. I’m going to explode.”
“Better not – Zhan-ge just redecorated. He’ll be pissed if your guts ruin the new paintjob.”
“We just spruced things up a bit,” Xiao Zhan says, airily. “Finished the guest bedroom, a few new cushions.”
Yibo starts to clear the table, leaving them to reminisce. It’s what Xiao Zhan would do those couple times they had dinner with Yixuan at Yibo’s old place. Their stories turn cheery again when they talk about their first time on Happy Camp.
After dinner they put on a foreign film that both Xiao Zhan and Zhiguang want to see. They all climb on the large sofa together: Yibo on the left, Xiao Zhan in the middle, and Zhiguang curled up on the right. Even with the designer ottomans, there’s not a lot of room for three full-grown men. Really, Zhiguang should’ve sat in one of the perfectly good armchairs nearby. They weren’t in an idol dorm: people could, and should, have some personal space.
Especially if someone hasn’t seen their significant other for a while and wants to cuddle him and get a nose-full of milky soft skin and maybe suck a couple of juvenile hickeys under his collar.
After fifteen minutes of dark tunnels and ghostly jump scares, Yibo’s teeth are rattling in his skull. Of course this stupid movie is a paranormal horror.
“Sorry,” Xiao Zhan mouths to him, his face lit in eerie tv blue light. “I didn’t know. We can turn it off. . .”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he says with a glance over Xiao Zhan’s shoulder at Zhiguang, who is staring at him innocently, his soft eyes wide.
“Yibo-ge, don’t you like the movie? Zhan-ge said you both like this director. I’m sorry. We can watch something else -” Zhiguang whoops when a spirit seeps out of the crack in a stone wall and grabs the protagonist.
“It’s fine! Just watch the stupid movie,” Yibo growls, squaring his shoulders and planting his feet on the floor as if ready for battle.
After a third person is possessed, Yibo excuses himself to hit the can, and lingers in the bathroom in hopes of missing the climax of the movie. He gets himself a drink and splashes water on his face.
When he emerges from the bathroom he notices what’s been going down on the other side of the sofa. With Xiao Zhan in the centre of the sofa, Yibo didn’t have a clear view of it before. But now he sees how they’re curled up together, Zhiguang’s arm hooked through Xiao Zhan’s, his head resting on Xiao Zhan’s shoulder. The kid pets the back of Xiao Zhan’s hand as though Yibo’s boyfriend is a tiny cat.
Fucking hell. If Xia Zhiguang wants a tiny cat, Yibo will drag Jianguo hissing and screaming out of her hiding place and plop her in the kid’s lap. ‘Guangguang’ needs to keep that baity boyband crap for the cameras.
He heads to the kitchen and grabs a bag of chips out of the cupboard – Xiao Zhan’s favourite. Yibo pours a handful in one bowl and three handfuls in the other and brings them back to the living room. The large bowl he offers to Xiao Zhan, who has to extricate himself from Guang Guang to accept it.
“I really shouldn’t. . .” Xiao Zhan protests weakly even as he shoves a chip in his mouth.
“You’re thinner than the last time I saw you,” says Yibo.
“Lao Wang . . .”
“-It’s true! There will be continuity problems if you’re this skinny. Eat at least ten.” Yibo shoves the paltry bowl into Zhiguang’s lap and deadpans, “Enjoy.”
The kid doesn’t seem to mind that there’s only about six chips in his bowl. “Can I have a drink, Yibo-ge?”
“Sure.” Yibo comes back with three cans of beer to see that Xiao Zhan’s bowl is half empty and Zhiguang somehow has twice as many chips as before.
For a hundred minute movie, it goes on forever. Yibo practically jumps and crows in joy when the credits roll.
“You promised.”
Yibo doesn’t remember promising anything. “When?”
Xiao Zhan’s sitting on their bed, staring up at him like he’s stupid. “Last week when I asked you. I said ‘They’ve rescheduled the VO session for my new Molsion ad and I’ll have to go in for a few hours in the morning. Would you bring Guang Guang to the track with you since he’s interested in moto racing? We can meet up with Yixing-ge for lunch after that.’ And you said ‘fine’ and fell asleep and snored so loudly into the phone I hung up.”
Yibo remembers part of that discussion. “So you asked me right after we had sex.” Phone sex, but still.
“Of course I did – I’m not stupid. I knew you’d complain if I asked when you were fully lucid.” Xiao Zhan bats his eyelashes obnoxiously. He unbuttons his shirt, slipping those long toned arms out of the sleeves, leaving him in a white tank and those skinny jeans. Ah yes, he’s assembling his weapons. Next come the puppy dog eyes. Finally: that fucking pout. “Please Yibo-ge? He was so excited when I told him. He really wants to be just like you.”
That somehow makes it worse. “No one is like me.”
Xiao Zhan stands, saunters over to him and touches his biceps, smoothing down the sleeves of his shirt. “Of course not. You’re an original. A singular man of this modern age. Holy shit, babe, your arms. . .”
Yibo preens, subtly flexes them. “Jing Yu and I were working out together every day. I bench two-sixty now. That beats Zhan-ge’s best of two-forty.”
Xiao Zhan’s eyes widen. “Wow, really? But of course you can. Wah, to be Wang Yibo, the world’s most talented man.” He wraps his arms around Yibo’s waist and kisses him deeply, tongue slipping along the inside of Yibo’s cheek, causing a shiver.
Sigh. “Fine. I’ll bring the kid to the track.”
Xiao Zhan blinks. “Hm? Oh, right. That’s what we were talking about. Thank you, Yibo-ge. You’re the best.”
Yibo spends all three teeth-brushing moments brainstorming what he’s going to do to Xiao Zhan now that Xia Zhiguang is safely tucked in bed, asleep. While he flosses with the little plastic doodad, he does a few squats and stretches. He’s planning on going hardand doesn’t want to pull something.
When he emerges from the en suite he’s treated to the sight of his beautiful boyfriend, naked, stretched out on the bed, fast asleep and snoring softly.
Yibo chuckles. He shouldn’t be surprised. Xiao Zhan told him he was falling asleep every night the moment his head hit the pillow.
Xiao Zhan wakes up when Yibo slips into the bed beside him. He paws weakly, his arm flopping across Yibo’s chest as if he has no bones under his skin. “Sorry. Sorry. Lesgo. M’awake.”
“Go to sleep, Zhan-ge.”
“No, I’mgoodtogo,” Xiao Zhan slurs, even as his eyes droop closed mid-sentence. “c’monboge, fuckme. Yesbabe. juzlikethat”
Yibo kisses his temple. “Tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Xiao Zhan rolls over and hugs his pillow. “G’night bo-ge. Youcan jerkoff on me if you want. Jus not . .. just not onmyface ‘cause I don’t . . . I don’t wannabreakou-”
He’s already asleep.
Since he has permission, Yibo jerks off on Xiao Zhan’s left ass cheek, the part of him with the biggest surface area that’s exposed. It’s not ideal, but at least he can jerk it onto the real thing and not into a hotel shower drain. And instead of staring at that one headless naked pic Xiao Zhan was brave enough to send him, he can watch his warm, naked boyfriend sleep instead.
His Zhan-ge is more ribs than abs again – his xianxia physique – and it’s a bit of a boner kill. So Yibo just focuses on the beautiful, serene face he adores. . . or the ripe ass he’s going to abuse at the next possible opportunity.
He comes as quietly as possible, with an explosive huff, painting Xiao Zhan’s skin with cream, rubbing the head of his cock in the mess as he rides out the last flickers of pleasure. Yibo cleans up his boyfriend and tucks in behind him, slinging an arm around his waist. He kisses the nape of his neck, and breathes in Xiao Zhan’s conditioner.
Yibo’s usually a good sleeper, but when he wakes up it’s dark and Xiao Zhan’s still curled up against him, sleeping soundly. He checks his phone – he’s only been asleep for an hour.
Then he smells it: cigarette smoke. Faint but so recognisable in the way it is for people who used to smoke but quit. Not that Yibo smoked for long: just a summer during training days.
Quietly, he throws on some sweat pants and his robe and checks the living room.
Xia Zhiguang is out on the balcony with the door open, his arm bent in a familiar nicotine pose. The night breeze blusters and sends a puff of smoke into the apartment.
“If Zhan-ge catches you with that, he’ll paddle you.” Yibo steps out into the cool night.
Zhiguang laughs and flicks the cigarette, embers glittering in the air. “Zhan Zhan’s been threatening to spank me for years. Sadly, he hasn’t followed through on it yet, Yibo-ge.” He takes another puff and offers the stick.
“Not since I was a trainee.” Yibo leans on the rail.
“I only do it when I need to slim down. We’re filming a music video next week and they want me shredded. You know how it goes.”
This is familiar. Yibo knows loads of dancers who cut calories the same way. “Probably not the best time to be visiting someone who would live off potatoes and pastry if left to his own devices.”
He doesn’t say what he’s thinking: that Zhiguang is already looking pretty shredded standing there in his boxers, especially for someone who ate as much salt at dinner as he did and then wolfed down a few helpings of chips.
As both a dancer and someone who sleeps with men, Yibo figures he has a pretty good eye when it comes to men’s anatomy. And for a twenty-one year old, the kid is built. Washboard abs, puffed up pecs, defined intercostals, superhero traps. He would’ve killed for Zhiguang’s muscle mass at that age. Yibo probably wouldn’t have caught as much shit as he did as Lan Wangji if he’d been as tall and broad as Zhiguang back then. Hell, the kid’s arms are bigger than Yibo’s are now, and Yibo can bench two-sixty (which Jing Yu assures him is awesome).
“I like watching Zhan Zhan eat. He practically lived on air when we were filming Xfire. It made me so mad at the producers. Zhan Zhan was already perfect the way he was. The rest of us would each eat like two packs of junky ramen for dinner every night and then there was Zhan Zhan and Junjie eating, like, steamed vegetables or something. They ate so much soggy eggplant. I don’t think Zhan Zhan can even look at an eggplant without going green.”
It’s true: Xiao Zhan can’t even look at an eggplant emoji without going green. That made for some confusing sexting early on. Since, Yibo’s adopted Xiao Zhan’s phallic emoji of choice: the baguette 🥖.
It’s bread. Unnaturally large and girthy bread.
It works for them.
Zhiguang butts out on the railing and flicks the stub down onto the street below. “You guys have such a cool place.”
“Until this morning it looked like a box with windows. He decorated it today so you didn’t walk in and think no one lived here.” Yibo regrets saying it immediately, even if it’s the truth.
The truth often gets him in trouble. He knows it, Xiao Zhan knows it, all their friends know it, WYB Official knows it, every reporter in China and Korea knows it, and every person on his assorted supertopics knows it.
“Really? He did that for me?” Zhiguang smiles shyly, wraps an arm around himself to scratch at his shoulder blade. “I’m not actually surprised. He’s so thoughtful. Huan Huan always made sure everything was clean and Xiao Wu always made sure everyone was entertained. But Zhan Zhan always made sure everyone felt safe and comfortable.”
Yibo is very familiar with this and would add ‘at expense to himself’ if he didn’t zipper his mouth.
“Zhan Zhan is such a good person.”
“The best.”
“Yeah. And he deserves the best.”
Yibo agrees.
Zhiguang turns to him, his soft smile intensifying. “Are you. . . Are you giving him the best, Yibo-ge?”
Yibo’s taken aback. “Of course I am.”
“Then why didn’t you decorate the apartment for him? He’s run ragged – anyone who knows him can see it. I would think that a good boyfriend would have it all done for him when he got back from shooting his drama so he could just relax.”
. . . What a disrespectful little shit. Xiao Zhan designed and decorated their flat because Xiao Zhan knows and cares about design. If Yibo did it the place would look like the inside of a skate shop. Yibo does other things – like finding said apartment complex and making sure its security was sufficient. Like researching Xiao Zhan’s new car and picking up weird southern cooking ingredients when he goes to Changsha. He even does all the crazy sex stuff Xiao Zhan dreams up (not that Yibo doesn’t benefit from Xiao Zhan’s creativity). Yibo opens his mouth to retort but Zhiguang continues.
“But that’s just me. I don’t know much about relationships. I just hate seeing Zhan Zhan so overworked. And now I feel bad that he made himself tired and sick for me.” Zhiguang sighs. “He always took care of me. Just being near him makes you feel special and brave. I never had to worry about anything when he was around. Zhan Zhan was like my mum, if my mum was the smartest, funniest, most handsome man in the world.” His thick lips split in a goofy grin.
Yibo’s hackles go up. “You’re not a little kid anymore, GuangGuang, you should probably watch what you say. If someone else heard you say that crap, they might think you were into your ex-bandmate.”
“You think so, Yibo-ge? I feel like I’ve said and done way more obvious things over the years.” A shy giggle. “Did you know that before Zhan Zhan dated Huan Huan, he refused to date younger guys? He wouldn’t even look at them.” There’s a little twinkle in Zhiguang’s eye and Yibo has a mighty need to punch it out. “Huan Huan finally wore him down after proving how smart and dependable he could be as team leader. Then you came along and you were even younger, and somehow you managed to win him over and you’re living together. For now.”
For. . . ? “Excuse me?”
“-If history proves anything. . .” Guang Guang shrugs, dopey, innocent smile still plastered across his face. “Well, Zhan Zhan’s boyfriends come and go. But Didi is always here. I’ve been here, waiting, for five years. And it’ll be my turn soon enough.”
Rage boils up Yibo’s throat. His fingers collapse in a tight fist.
Zhiguang’s sweet face is so smug. “Do it, Yibo-ge. Please. Right in the eye. Nothing would make me happier than to show Zhan Zhan how his famously jealous boyfriend assaulted his little brother. You’d be doing my work for me. And it’ll be so nice to have Zhan Zhan fuss and play nurse like he used to.”
The little bastard. Wait, ‘famously jealous’?!
Yibo breathes in deep, forcing down his rage. He clads himself in a shit-eating smirk. “You’re delusional, kid. From one real maknae to a fake, spoilt one: you’ve been friend-zoned for life. Zhan-ge thinks of you as his baby sister and that’ll never change.”
“If it’s a lost cause, why’re you so nervous, Yibo-ge? If your relationship is so solid, you won’t feel threatened by a little healthy competition.”
Yibo laughs through grit teeth. "Competition? You seriously think you're competition for me in any way? Everything you do, I'm already better at it than you. I'm a better dancer, better rapper, better actor and definitely better fuck."
"Sure you are." Zhiguang yawns and stretches, his perfectly cultivated muscles rippling artfully in the glow of the street lamps. “Looking forward to hitting the track tomorrow, ge.”
“Don’t call me ge, shithead.”
Zhiguang chuckles and pats Yibo’s shoulder. “G’night, ge.”
Xia Zhiguang disappears into the dark apartment, leaving Yibo to ask the night if that really just happened.
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