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The first time Lan Zhan sees him, the first thing he thinks is, beautiful.
Fifteen-year-old trainee Lan Zhan doesn’t really know what that word means. He’s exhausted, just out of school, and got to the dance studio extremely early. He’d been planning to practice his newest assigned choreography for the hour that remained until the dance instructor came to teach them, as he usually did.
He did hear about some new trainees transferring to Gusu Entertainment for training, which was normal, too. A lot of trainees came here, two parts for the dancing skills and three parts for the discipline training. Gusu Ent. has produced many very well liked idols for that very reason, after all. They’re immaculately trained– polite, kind, well-mannered. Everything a fan ever could want in an idol, a Gusu idol had. That was their guarantee.
But Lan Zhan was not expecting this.
He walks into the dance studio, about to set his bag down and tie up his hair, when he sees him.
Tall, lithe, and beautiful. No other words will sit in his brain besides those.
He watches this man move across the practice room, all precise shapes and coordinated movements, and realizes he never understood dancing until right now. This is what every dancer wants to be, he thinks. This man moves like water, like air is nothing. This man moves both like a gentle stream down a mountain and the roaring tides. He is the churning whirlpools at sea and the gentle lapping of the waves at shore. He is water, and everything with it.
He’s mesmerizing. He’s the moment, the one who captures all eyes the moment he walks onto stage. No other idol could ever hold a candle to the way this man moves, Lan Zhan is sure of it. No one ever could hold the amount of talent this man has in his pinky finger. Lan Zhan is surprised he exists in the same plane of existence as this man.
He isn’t even in appropriate dancing attire. Lan Zhan should scold him, actually. He’s in converse and jeans, a loose hoodie that only one arm is in while the rest is tucked by his shoulder, revealing the tank top underneath. His hair is tied up with a red ribbon, probably only long enough to reach his shoulders. It’s high up enough to not brush his neck, but low enough that hair falls out.
Every time he raises his arms in another fluid motion, Lan Zhan catches a glimpse of his abdomen, and he can physically feel his ears heating up.
This man is trouble, he already knows. His uncle is going to have a hissy fit when he sees him.
But this is single handedly the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, and he doesn’t know what to do with this information.
He doesn’t actually reflect on that idea until the man stops moving, seeing him in the mirror and realizing he’s been there for who knows how long. They lock eyes in the mirror, deep grey eyes meeting brown ones. They stare at each other for a while.
Lan Zhan is very good at feigning calm, normally. He’s the unflappable twin, the one whom people try to annoy on purpose. He’s used to that. He’s used to people flapping their hands in his face to try and get him to react.
Nothing has ever affected him like this man does. He can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, loud enough that the other could probably hear it, too. He can feel his ears heating up. He can’t do anything about that, unfortunately, but they’re mostly hidden by his hair anyway. Thankfully he hadn’t tied his hair up, or he’d have been exposed instantly.
And then, the unthinkable happens.
The man smiles.
He smiles and it’s so bright that Lan Zhan thinks he could never see another person smile again, because what could ever outshine this? It’s as if the sun just came out and shone through the windows, except this studio has no windows and it’s dark and probably filthy. But he’s never wanted to be anywhere and watch anything so badly. Suddenly, nothing matters anymore, because the prettiest man on earth is smiling and he’s smiling at him. What an idea.
If Lan Zhan could think past the rose tint in his brain, he’d probably yell at himself right now. This is ridiculous. He’s just a man. What’s the big deal? Since when does he like men so much?
And yet. Is he just a man? Lan Zhan wouldn’t be surprised if he was more than that. He’s heard stories of mythology, of mythical beings that could evolve into humans if they cultivated enough merits. They could start as animals, objects, plants and the like. He’s never believed in these stories, but this man is enough to make him believe. Surely a smile so dazzling can’t be from anything human.
Lan Zhan does not attempt to smile back, because he knows he’d look like an idiot. So he blinks rapidly, and attempts to quell the flush that he knows is painting his ears bright red. It’s not really working, for how the man giggles at him.
He giggles at him. Lan Zhan is floating, he thinks. He’s floating through a silver sky full of sunny laughs and bright smiles. He doesn’t think he ever wants to come out.
—
Lan Zhan later learns that this man’s name is Wei Ying.
He also learns that he is the bane of his existence, because he’s nothing like Lan Zhan expected him to be.
First day in training, he makes the dance teacher practically spit blood before he’s shooed out. He puts no effort into class, always more focused on talking to his peers. He’s utterly infuriating, does not know when to keep his opinions to himself, and is frustratingly arrogant.
But he’s simply just so talented. He can take one’s breath away with a single sway of his hips, and Lan Zhan has never wanted to punch a wall so badly.
“Laoshi, just one question,” Wei Ying interrupts, for what seems like the millionth time that day. Everyone collectively groans a little, which is what Lan Zhan knows Wei Ying wants, because for some reason the man thrives on being a menace. He doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, just stands still.
He wouldn’t have to worry about schooling his expression so much if not for the fact that Wei Ying specifically chose to stand right next to him, in the front. Lan Zhan usually stands in the front because no one else wants to, for whatever reason they may have. It gives him peace and quiet and lets him focus during classes, which is nice. But he has not absorbed a single thing the teacher has said for the past hour, because Wei Ying is right next to him and he’s extremely distracting.
Wei Ying has chosen to ditch his sweater, so all he has on is a tank top(and his jeans which he’d already gotten scolded for). Very distracting. Very. Because most of the other trainees either have a track jacket or something. Lan Zhan himself has on long sweats and a sweater. Wei Ying just has a tank top. Which isn’t inappropriate– it’s not uncommon to overheat while you dance, but. It’s not going well for Lan Zhan’s sanity, and he wishes Wei Ying would put his sweater back on.
Wei Ying continues to ask his question, a small thing that really could have been covered during break or after the training session, but the teacher can’t just tell him to shut up, so he answers it. Lan Zhan takes the time to take a good step away from Wei Ying so that maybe he can actually absorb some information today.
Wei Ying’s question ends up taking a bit of time, so Lan Zhan attempts to go through the choreography another time on his own. Some of the other students choose to sit and stretch, but he goes through the dance from the top.
But he’s in the middle of a section when he realizes with a frustrated sigh that he can’t remember what happens next.
This is new for him. His memory is immaculate, and he usually has no issue remembering choreography. He can’t help but send Wei Ying a scathing look behind his back, frustrated that the pretty man was the reason for his lack of recognition.
But when he looks at Wei Ying, he realizes the man is right next to him once again– and is watching him. Everyone is watching them. He swallows, suddenly frozen in place.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying says, finally having learned his name. Lan Zhan blinks. He does not reply.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying repeats, a teasing smile on his face now. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m just getting you back for earlier this afternoon.”
Lan Zhan blanches, staring at the other man like he’s just dropped a bomb on him. He doesn’t have anything to say to that, because it’s true, he was watching Wei Ying earlier, and the thought that it may have been unwelcome had never crossed his mind.
He bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly extremely embarrassed. He’s never been exposed like this in front of his peers. Even if he doesn’t really care what they think of him, he knows he has a reputation. Unflappable, cold, and aloof. He doesn’t speak to anyone, and no one speaks to him.
“Wei Ying, don’t be ridiculous,” One of the other students chimes in. Lan Zhan doesn’t know his name, but he does know that he’s from the Jin family. “You think you’re good enough to have someone like him admire you? You either have the biggest ego around, or you’re just stupid.”
He snickers. “Besides, Lan Zhan’s stares all look the same. He was probably staring at the wall behind you.”
Lan Zhan is aware he’s being insulted, despite what his classmate had implied, but he says nothing, because being a bystander is easier than standing up for himself. Besides, wouldn’t that imply that he was staring at Wei Ying? If his father finds out, it’s over.
Wei Ying gawks at the other student, hackles raised. “Hey, asshole, just because you’re terrible at dancing doesn’t mean I am. I think Lan Zhan knows talent when he sees it!”
“You couldn’t dance your way out of a paper bag, Wei Ying.” The other student sneers, crossing his arms. “Besides, Lan Zhan is better than you. Why would he ever stop to stare at you?”
Lan Zhan blinks, suddenly offended. How dare he say that about Wei Ying? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s about to open his mouth when Wei Ying laughs.
“You’re right.” Wei Ying sneers, eyebrows raised. “He is better. But I’m still better than you.”
The other student grits his teeth, clearly about to lunge. All of the other students are standing around with their mouths agape, not sure what to do. The dance instructor does eventually break them up by sending Wei Ying out of the studio to the detention center, but the tension remains.
A few other students surround the Jin boy, saying words small enough to evade Lan Zhan’s ears. But all Lan Zhan can think about is what Wei Ying had said.
“He is better. But I’m still better than you.”
What arrogance. Lan Zhan is usually turned off by arrogance. So why does he want to go after Wei Ying and ask him if he’s okay? He’s sure Wei Ying is fine, because this doesn't seem like the type of thing to bother him, but what if he did? What if he went after him, asked him if he was alright?
Besides, does he really think that Lan Zhan’s dancing is better than his? Lan Zhan thinks that’s ridiculous, because in his heart, no one dances better than Wei Ying.
He doesn’t end up going after him. Whatever this is, it needs to end. Wei Ying isn’t the type of person Lan Zhan thought he was, and he shouldn’t be hanging around him anyway.
__
“Lan Zhan.”
His father’s cold voice rings across the room. Everything stills.
Lan Zhan has never liked going into his father’s study. He is usually summoned to the office, where he, his father, and his brother speak about company matters. The two times he has been, it hasn’t ended well.
The first time he ended up here was when he was six years old, when his mother passed away. Lan Zhan was always much closer with his mother than his father. Truth be told, he barely knows his father, even now. His mother was the one who really took care of him and his brother.
Lan Zhan’s mother passed unexpectedly, from unknown complications. They were told of her passing on a Monday, and Lan Zhan had been so inconsolable that they hadn’t been able to bring him to school.
So they’d brought him to his father’s study, where his father had been waiting with his arms clasped behind his back.
Lan Zhan remembers the first thing his father had done was slap him across the cheek. Everyone, including the servants, had been stunned. It’d shocked Lan Zhan so badly that he’d stumbled back, wide eyed and suddenly afraid.
“I want you to know one thing.” His father had said, cold and unfeeling. “If one more tear drips down your cheeks, we’re going to have a problem.”
Six year old Lan Zhan had been stupid enough to ask why. So his father had told him—
“You do not cry. You do not question. You obey, end of story.”
The second time he’d been brought to his father’s study, it was because he’d not received full marks on his report card. For that, he’d received as many belt lashes as he was old. By this point, Lan Zhan had become more like the person he was now— aloof, cold, and unexpressive. It was no issue for him to tune the pain out.
Today marks the third time he’d been given the pleasure of going to his father’s study.
“Lan Zhan.” His father says. He does not need to project, because his voice echoes around the room. Lan Zhan does not shake, and he does not quiver. He stands tall.
“Father.” He says politely, as if speaking to a teacher or a superior. He bows his head, training his eyes at the floor as is expected of him.
He is expecting a punishment. He is not expecting what comes instead.
“Who is Wei Ying?” His father asks coolly, not even turning to look at him. Lan Zhan watches his father’s shoes move across the room to his desk, where they eventually disappear behind wood.
“A peer.” Lan Zhan replies evenly, trying not to let the surprise show on his face.
“No.” His father disagrees. Lan Zhan swallows. “A threat. A problem.” His father taps a pen against his desk. “The instructor informed me you did not remember a combination in class today, and that someone named Wei Ying started a fight with you. Is this true?”
Lan Zhan swallows, and a bead of sweat trails down his back. “Yes, father.” He takes as silent of a breath as he can. “He was arguing with another classmate.”
“The Jin child.” His father supplies.
“Yes, father.” Lan Zhan replies, head still lowered.
“Why?”
Lan Zhan swallows. “Because I—” He hesitates, suddenly more nervous than he’s been in a while.
“Because you what?” His father interrupts, irritated. He taps his pen against his desk again. “Get to the point, Lan Zhan.”
“I— I saw him dancing, earlier in the afternoon, father.” Lan Zhan admits eventually, voice as even as he can get it to be. “I watched him for a little while. He is very talented—”
“Is this related to the issue, Lan Zhan?” His father asks impatiently. He’s upset now. “Do not waste my time.”
“Yes, father. It is important.” He assures. “I did not ask to watch him. Later, in class, he asked me about it.”
“So that Jin boy butted in, thus the fight.” His father finishes. Lan Zhan nods.
His father gets up, suddenly. Lan Zhan hears the way his chair scrapes against the floor, and he folds his hands behind his back. His father steps towards him until Lan Zhan can smell the heavy cologne he wears.
The hit is expected. It’s straight to the back of his head, right where it meets his neck. He isn’t expecting the sheer amount of force behind it, nor the way it practically knocks him to the floor. If not for his ability to balance so well on his feet, he would have fallen.
But it shocks him out of his stupor of thinking that everything is fine. Everything is very much not fine.
“Do you understand how serious this is?” His father hisses. “This is a severe lapse in judgement from you, Lan Zhan. No one else can matter. You are better than all of them. It does not matter what they do, and you know better than to show awe like that.”
Lan Zhan nods, a sinking feeling in his gut.
“You will not speak to him again.” His father says coldly. “You will make sure that he does not speak to you. This will not happen again, do you understand? You will not waste all of the effort I’ve put into you on a boy.”
Lan Zhan has been denied things his entire life. He is not to ask for anything, if he needs something, it will be given to him. If he asks, it will be denied. He knows that this is to teach him to detach from worldly desire, to teach him that he must be grateful for what he has. He must work for each grain of dirt he walks upon, and his father will not accept anything less than absolute perfection.
He has it better, actually. His twin, the firstborn of the two of them, is barely even allowed outside. Lan Zhan is grateful that he is at least allowed to train outside. He has privacy, he has a device that belongs to him. He was allowed to choose what he does with his(admittedly very rare) free time. Lan Huan is homeschooled, does not have a house key, does not have a phone. He stays home and studies. At least Lan Zhan has a life, to an extent.
“Yes, father.” Lan Zhan murmurs. “Of course. I will not speak to him again.”
His father hums his affirmative. “Good. You’re so good, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan swallows again, nodding before turning to leave. He does not straighten his head until he is in the hallway outside of his father’s office.
One thing is for certain: he cannot entertain any of Wei Ying’s antics anymore.
—
Or so he thought, because Wei Ying doesn't seem to understand when to quit.
He seems to have set his eyes on becoming Lan Zhan’s friend, for whatever reason he may have. So, every training session they have together, Lan Zhan suddenly finds himself with a lapful of Wei Ying. Which is a problem, because Lan Zhan’s body does not seem to understand the appropriate way to react to all of that, so he freezes in place and fights the urge to wrap his arms around the other teen and hiss at everyone else like a feral tiger.
Wei Ying is laughing as he wiggles in Lan Zhan’s lap. Someone is yelling at Wei Ying to get out of his lap, that what he’s doing is inappropriate, that he should leave Lan Zhan alone. If Lan Zhan had a bit of backbone, he’d wrap his arms around Wei Ying’s waist and let him stay there, but he has none, so he shoves Wei Ying off his lap.
This only makes the other teen laugh harder, though. Lan Zhan wishes his laugh didn’t sound melodic enough that he could probably play it on his piano.
“Wei Ying.” He says, through gritted teeth. “Will you ever stop being so frivolous?!”
“Aiyah, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying snickers. “Will you ever stop being so prudish? It’s not like I kissed you or something.”
Lan Zhan’s entire face heats up at that, because the traitorous voice in his heart really wishes that would happen. But he knows what would happen to both himself and Wei Ying if that ever happened, so he grits his teeth.
“Ridiculous.” He mutters to himself, praying that his cheeks don’t look as red as they feel. Praying that he as a whole doesn’t look as red as he thinks he does. His hair is pulled up this time, so there’s no hiding the reds of his ears. Maybe that’s what’s giving him away.
“Ridiculous.” Wei Ying mimics, getting all up in his face. He’s close enough that Lan Zhan can see each and every one of his eyelashes, and wow, they’re beautiful. On the short side, sure, but they compliment his grey eyes nicely.
“Do you know how you sound right now, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying continues, recapturing his attention. He twirls a stray strand of Lan Zhan’s hair between his fingers, right in front of his face. All it does is give Lan Zhan an excuse to stare at his pretty pink lips. This man is absolutely infuriating.
“You sound like an old man.” Wei Ying finishes, ruffling his hair and messing it all up. It dislodges the low ponytail he had his hair in. Lan Zhan slaps his hand away before he can process how nice it feels.
“Like your uncle.” Wei Ying adds, snickering to himself. Which, wow. Turn off. Way to mention his uncle. But fortunately, it reminds him that he really shouldn’t be talking to Wei Ying at all. What if his father finds out about this? What would his father do to Wei Ying? It makes Lan Zhan’s palms clam up, and it gives him the courage he needs to finally speak up.
“Wei Ying.” He hisses, scooting away from him. “Stop being ridiculous. Leave me alone.”
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying pouts. And what a pout it is. It melts Lan Zhan’s heart. It reminds him of a rabbit he saw once, a long time ago. When he was allowed to spend time on soft things like rabbits.
“I’m only teasing, come on. I like your old man-ness.” He giggles. “Makes me wanna call you gege.”
Wei Ying hums to himself. “Hmm.. Lan-er-gege. What a title.” He grins. “Like a young master, right? A good, righteous young master of Gusu Entertainment.. sure to make many, many pretty fans swoon with his melodic voice and magical dancing skills.” And then he winks. He winks. At him.
Lan Zhan is officially speechless, and his face is officially burning. That title sounds just as archaic as it is, and yet it makes his stomach swoop and his heart pound against his ribcage. “Wei Ying!”
“Wei Ying!” That voice from before yells. Now that he’s closer, Lan Zhan recognizes him as Wei Ying’s brother, Jiang Cheng. The two seem close.
But when Jiang Cheng loops his arms under Wei Ying’s shoulders and hoists him up, only for Wei Ying to wrap his body around the other like a koala, Lan Zhan decides that he does not like Jiang Cheng. Which is ridiculous, because what right does Lan Zhan have to hate Jiang Cheng? It’s not like him and Wei Ying are close.
“A-Cheng, don’t be like that…” Wei Ying snickers, drawing out the last syllable until Jiang Cheng literally goes green in the face. “I’m just teasing him, in all good fun.”
“Teasing?” Jiang Cheng scoffs, and he attempts to pry Wei Ying off of him, to no avail. Why would one ever want to pry Wei Ying off of themselves? Lan Zhan thinks that’s an honor, actually. He can barely process the fact that Wei Ying throws himself into his lap. Which is probably for the better.
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes as Wei Ying attempts to kiss him on the cheek. Lan Zhan can feel the back of his throat burning with envy. “More like harassing. Give him a break. More than five minutes of you is a handful.” Jiang Cheng pushes Wei Ying’s face away from his own as Wei Ying whines into his ear.
Lan Zhan disagrees. He would give anything for five more minutes of Wei Ying’s time.
—
However, he’s not stupid enough to go against his father and risk whatever consequences would come with that. Not with the sheer number of eyes on him when he’s inside the Gusu Ent. building. No one is trustworthy. So for the next few months, he stays away from Wei Ying, as instructed.
It’s not as if they’re close, regardless. Wei Ying likes to tease him during class, so Lan Zhan switches training periods altogether. It’s difficult to adjust to a new routine and new people, but it’s not impossible, and Lan Zhan accomplishes it.
He keeps everything else the same— he stays at the top of his class, both in school and out. He works around the clock to fulfill his father’s expectations, most times deep into the night.
The only time he allows himself to slouch his shoulders and let his mind wander is when he plays piano.
Piano is an extraordinary instrument— it allows the player to do a large range of things, from different dynamic volumes to just getting out of their head. Nothing gets Lan Zha out of his body like playing the piano does.
To tell the truth, he’s not actually supposed to be playing piano anymore. Ever since high school, his father had demanded that he dedicate all of his time to dancing and singing, to fulfill his idol career. He has no time to play anymore. He used to have a beautiful grand piano in his room, but his father had it demolished on his first day of high school to insure it did not distract him from his studies.
It was a sad day. Lan Zhan misses that piano, like he misses many of the other things his father has gotten rid of in the course of his life. But he understands that it is necessary for him to become the best idol he can be, as his father wishes. He also knows that nothing would have come out of begging otherwise.
That does not mean, however, that Lan Zha does not play.
There is a piano in the basement of a cafe that Lan Zhan has frequently visited, enough that the owner knows him. He found the piano by accident, fresh into high school with eyes still damp about his piano. He’d heard piano playing coming from a staff only door, only to stumble upon the basement.
The owner hadn’t been mad about it. She’d laughed, motioning for Lan Zhan to join her. After hearing him play and him sheepishly telling her that his father had destroyed his piano, she’d offered him the ability to come and play as long as the cafe was open. No staff would stop him, so long as he showed his student id. He’d agreed, obviously, because this was a place his father would never check and he loves playing piano.
So he goes every day during lunch, since he’s allowed outside of the building. It’s an easy cover, since the cafe has food, so if anyone asks, he could just say he’s getting lunch. The cafe is on a quieter street anyway, and usually has very few people in at a time. He orders a drink, goes downstairs, and plays for a half an hour, then goes back to school for the rest of his lessons. It’s a flawless system, really.
As he sits down today, he digs through the pile of scores he has next to the piano. These he leaves here. They’re both copies that he used when he used to play and new scores he’s acquired from the cafe owner and other miscellaneous places.
He opens his binder to Chopin’s Etude Op 25-11 and starts to play.
Chopin’s 11th Etude, also referred to as Winter Wind, starts very slowly. The keys sink under Lan Zhan’s hands as he plays the beginning few notes, feigning the calm before the storm. The music fills the room like the gentle sway of trees as the wind picks up, twirling leaves and branches as trunks sway with the movement.
Then suddenly, the wind starts to howl as Lan Zhan’s fingers dance down the keys, screaming and dragging the trees with it. The switch in emotion is so sudden that you would never guess that the first line of music leads to the next. Yet it’s fitting, because there is always calm before a storm.
As Lan Zhan works his way through the piece, he moves with it, fingers varying in how hard they hit each key as he creates each phrase of the music. Each howl of wind is its own, with different pedal movements and different accents to make something new out of each phrase. Most of them are the exact same notes– but under Lan Zhan’s fingers, each one becomes something new entirely.
Each page is a new direction, a new wind with its own story. Each wind has something new to add, something to make the piece even more astonishing than it already is.
It ends suddenly, on a big octave. So sharp, so sudden, but it fits with the rest of the piece. It leaves the listener so shocked they can barely comprehend that the piece is over as the final note rings through the room.
As the sound dies, Lan Zhan dimly realizes that someone is clapping. He whips his head over to the door, expecting to see the owner of the cafe.
It’s not her. It’s Wei Ying, and Lan Zhan’s stomach basically drops out of his body. His face blanches as the other boy hoots and hollers, laughing about who knows what.
“Why are you staring at me like that, Lan Zhan?” Wei YIng teases, coming to sit next to him on the piano bench. Lan Zhan instinctively scoots away, but it seems that’s exactly what Wei Ying wanted, because he immediately moves to take up the extra space. “You were so good, what is there to be nervous about? I never knew you could play like that!”
“You– How are you here?!” Lan Zhan hisses, straightening his posture and staring at Wei Ying accusingly. “Only employees are allowed in this room.”
“Dunno about you, but this,” Wei Ying motions to the piano, “doesn’t look like work to me.” He laughs when Lan Zhan scowls at him. “Okay, okay, don’t look at me like that. I came in and the nice lady behind the counter asked me if I was looking for you. I said yes, so she led me here.”
Lan Zhan stares at him, dumbfounded. Wei Ying laughs some more. Is that all he does with that pretty mouth of his? Lan Zhan can think of many better ways to use it.
Wow. Okay. He tries not to let whatever just went through his head show up on his face. It works, since Wei Ying doesn’t say anything to tease him. So he tries to do anything but focus on how close Wei Ying is to him right now. He’s right there. Lan Zhan’s heart is pounding in his chest, loud and begging to be heard. Lan Zhan can smell Wei Ying’s cologne on him, some sickly sweet smell that would be nauseating on anyone else. It’s heavenly on Wei Ying, though. Everything is.
“I wasn’t actually looking for you.” Wei Ying continues. “I just thought…”
Wei Ying talks for a little while. All he does is talk, but it allows Lan Zhan the pleasure of staring at the other teen. He hasn’t seen Wei Ying in a hot minute, since he switched classes. He absorbs the small details in the other teen’s face– the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks, the dim lighting of the basement reflecting in his hair. The way his lips shine as he takes them between his teeth.
Wei Ying is just too pretty.
“..so, I came here instead of that Hunan place. They have pretty good food here, you know.” Wei Ying finishes, after what Lan Zhan assumes was a long spiel about who knows what.
“Speaking of, since when do you play piano?” Wei Ying asks him, taking a bite of his sandwich. Lan Zhan cringes at food so close to an instrument.
It’s then that Lan Zhan remembers his father’s words, and his heart sinks. He’s not supposed to be talking to Wei Ying. He’s not even supposed to be around him. His face pales, and he immediately starts to gather his things.
“Lan Zhan, wait, wait, where are you going?” Wei Ying asks, furrowing his brows.
Lan Zhan doesn’t answer that. He continues grabbing his things, putting all of the piano pieces by the feet of the bench, closes the piano, and slings his bag over his shoulders. His palms are clammy.
“Lan Zhan, please, wait.” Wei Ying says, tugging on Lan Zhan’s jacket. His fingers feel like they’re burning against Lan Zhan’s skin, even through his clothes.
Lan Zhan does, in fact, not wait. He throws off Wei Ying’s arm before immediately rushing for the exit, ignoring how his heart sinks and hoping the sweet smell of Wei Ying’s cologne hadn’t stuck to his jacket.
—
A few weeks later, a parcel sits under his mailbox.
Every trainee has a small mailbox specifically assigned to them. It’s mostly for those who study abroad at Gusu Ent. so that their families can send them mail and whatnot, but everyone gets one regardless. So Lan Zhan is very surprised to see a parcel sitting under his mailbox.
His mailbox is off to the side, alongside most of the staff mailboxes. He’s technically considered staff, since he’s his father’s son and his father is head of the agency. It’s nice, though, because he doesn’t have to clamber over anyone else for his mail.
It’s very strange when he receives his first parcel. It’s much less strange after he reads the name on the bottom.
From Wei Ying <3
This is strange for a multitude of reasons. One, he and Wei Ying aren’t that close. Two, how did Wei Ying even figure out which mailbox was his? It’s not like they’re labelled. One has to just remember their mailbox number. And he certainly hasn’t told anyone which mailbox is his. Some people exchange mailbox numbers, but he has no one that he knows well enough to tell.
It is a mystery. But Lan Zhan would be lying if it didn’t make his hands go clammy and his heart start to race. Wei Ying gave him a gift. Just because. What an idea.
So, against his better judgement, he takes the parcel home with him. The high school he attends is a private school with dorms, but since he lives decently close to the school already, he decided to live at home. It’s a rare time he wishes he lived in the dorms, so that there’d be less risk of someone barging in on him.
Not his father, no. His father doesn’t live with him. His father lives with his twin brother full time, training him and teaching him to run Gusu Entertainment. It’s his uncle that he has to worry about. But his uncle seems to be asleep by the time Lan Zhan returns from training, so he tiptoes to his room after taking off his shoes.
He’s excited, actually. He doesn’t really know what could be in the package. Knowing Wei Ying, it’s probably something stupid. But Wei Ying went out of the way to bring it to him, even if it is in parcel form. That means more than he will ever know.
The first thing he sees when he opens the box is a note. It’s short, and is very clear in its intention.
Hope you enjoy Lan Zhan :P
Lan Zhan sighs. He was already of the idea that whatever this is, it’s most likely to try and annoy him. Now he’s sure of it. Regardless, he still opens the box carefully, because anything Wei Ying gives him is a treasure, regardless of how stupid it is. He takes special care to not cut into the box any more than is necessary to open it, planning to keep the gift in the box so he can preserve it and hide it from his uncle.
It’s wrapped, is the first thing Lan Zhan notices. It’s in a thin sheen of plastic. It’s some kind of book, but why is it wrapped? And why did Wei Ying put it in the box face down, with the quick blurb on the back facing the top?
One look at the front is enough to realize why. Lan Zhan takes barely a second to look before he drops the book as if burned.
He has no idea what the title is, since it’s in some other language, but he’s not an idiot– he knows exactly what this is. Porn. He’s never looked for it, never watched it, but he’s gotten one or two direct messages from bots on his messaging app. He’s received scam emails that send him to who knows what website and show him ads of men doing things that would make the average woman cry. But this is ridiculous, really.
The cover shows two men with one woman who looks like she could be a teenager, but he assumes she’s supposed to be an adult. Both men look like adults, muscular and bulky. The two men are caging the woman in between each other, and Lan Zhan doesn’t know how to feel about the expression on her face. He supposes she’s supposed to look like she’s enjoying whatever it is they’re doing to her, but she just looks sweaty to him. She’s dressed in basically nothing, which is to be expected in a novel like this, but still, Lan Zhan can’t help but avert his eyes. The two men look like dogs for how they stare at her, and Lan Zhan clicks his tongue in disapproval.
Does Wei Ying like things like this? He really hopes that it’s just for the porn part and not the younger-woman-and-older-men part. He unwraps the plastic hesitantly and flips through the book. He regrets it instantly, blinking images of who-knows-what out of his brain.
He should be annoyed by this. This is extremely inappropriate, and also really gross. Did Wei Ying think he’d like something like this?
Unfortunately, all it does is make him chuckle a bit.
It’s not the last gift he receives from Wei Ying, though.
Over the next few months, he receives a little less than a dozen things from the other teen– another graphic novel(this time, it’s a decent one. It’s called Frieren– Beyond Journey’s End. He likes it quite a bit), a candle(it smells a lot like Wei Ying’s cologne. Lan Zhan thinks this is his favorite of the things Wei Ying gives him), a book of piano scores(Nintendo songs), another book of piano scores(which contains Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody. He attempts this piece at the piano in the basement. It’s much more difficult than he expects), among many others.
He keeps all of them on his desk except the candle, which he keeps next to his bedside. He doesn't ever light it. He takes a deep breath of sweet vanilla and wishes it was Wei Ying he was smelling and not set wax.
—
“Did I not tell you to stop talking to him, Lan Zhan?” His father’s cold voice cuts through the air of the study.
That statement takes him off guard. Lan Zhan’s eyes widen just a fraction, but that’s all his father needs to verify his claims. His lips curl into a sneer, and he walks toward Lan Zhan. It feels like time slows as he watches his father walk towards him, and yet he can’t move. He has no idea what is to come, and yet he can’t do anything but stand still. He can barely comprehend what’s happening when a slap suddenly rings out against the quiet of the room.
A sharp ringing fills the air. Lan Zhan distantly realizes that the ringing is in his ear, and that the pain radiating throughout his body is coming from his right cheek. The flesh burns, and surely has turned a shade of red even though it’s barely been a minute since he was hit. His father stands with his arm across his body, his palm a tad flushed from the force he’d used to slap Lan Zhan across the face. That’s just how it is with his father.
“You disobeyed my directions, Lan Zhan.” His father spits at him, slapping his left cheek with the back of his hand. Just to make it even. It stings even worse than the last one, with the jewel of his father’s wedding ring scraping against his cheek. It breaks skin, Lan Zhan thinks. He can feel the blood pooling at the cut. A thin, crimson trail runs down his cheek. He wouldn’t be surprised if that scarred.
“I told you to stop talking to him, and yet you’re still talking to him.” His father continues. “Why?”
“I am not speaking to him, father.” Lan Zhan says quietly, lowering his head to try and display his submission. He needs to get out of here so that he can clean his cheek to insure it doesn’t scar, or else his uncle will have a field day. “I have not–”
His father suddenly slaps the top of his head, with more force than he’s ever received. It’s such a quick motion that Lan Zhan has no time to react, so he stumbles, left dizzy by the force of the hit. His neck snaps downwards, his chin hitting his chest uncomfortably, and he has to bite back a soft yelp. From shock or pain, he isn’t sure.
“And now you’re lying to me.” His father muses, rolling up his sleeves as if readying to deliver another blow. “I’ve been told of your little gifts, Lan Zhan.”
“I throw those away.” Lan Zhan immediately interjects, hoping to gain some ground.
“No, you do not. I’ve been told by your dance instructor that you pick them up and leave with them daily. Besides, your uncle mentioned that you received a graphic novel.” His father sneers, taking Lan Zhan by the hair and dragging his face up so he’s forced to look directly into his father’s eyes. “No son of mine reads graphic novels.”
He hadn’t even told his uncle about that. Worse, his uncle probably mentioned it by accident. Lan Qiren knows of Wei Ying, and disapproves of him as well, but he knows he makes Lan Zhan happy. He’s seen it himself. He doesn’t think his uncle would sell him out to his father on purpose, regardless.
“Listen to me, Lan Zhan.” His father whispers, low in his throat. “This ends now. I don’t care if that idiot brings you a block of gold, you will not talk to him anymore. Do not make me tell you a third time.”
Lan Zhan swallows, nodding his head. “Yes, father. I understand.”
“Do you really?” His father asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, father.” Lan Zhan murmurs. “I understand.”
“I do hope so.” His father mutters, finally releasing Lan Zhan’s hair and idly tracing a finger down his desk. “You do not want to know what will happen if you do not.”
His cheeks are blooming with pain. The bruises are probably visible now, especially his left cheek which was scraped by his father’s wedding ring.
He doesn’t know how he makes it back to his room. His uncle sees him as he walks in, and seems to be about to greet him before he stops dead in his tracks, staring at Lan Zhan’s face with an expression that Lan Zhan has never seen on his uncle’s face before. He thinks it might be horror. He isn’t sure.
When he gets inside his room, he shuts the door behind him and stares at the candle that Wei Ying bought for him. Its sickly-sweet vanilla smell has always reminded him of Wei Ying’s cologne, so he holds it close to his chest in both hands, letting the smell fill his nose. It calms him a bit. It makes him feel like he has Wei Ying here with him, right now. Like this is all just a bad dream.
Like when he blinks his eyes open, Wei Ying will be there, asking if he’s okay, and he’ll cry for the first time in a long time and tell him everything.
A drop of blood drips from his face onto the candle. It stains the wax red.
—
Lan Zhan doesn’t sleep a wink that night. He hugs that candle close to his chest and sits in bed with his knees tucked in close, wishing he could close his eyes and sleep. He’s never been this tired in his life.
He looks awful, he notes when he looks at himself in the mirror that morning. He’s never looked this unkempt in his life. His hair is all messed up, a knot forming on the left side from all of his tossing and turning. There are dark circles under his eyes, making his brown eyes look dull and unfocused.
He looks like he’s been crying all night. He feels like he’s been crying all night, even though he hasn't shed a single tear.
He wishes he’d cried. Maybe then he could convince himself that this was a dream, because Lan Zhan hasn’t cried since his mother died and he isn’t about to start now.
But his eyes are dry, despite how raw they feel. The back of his throat is taut with emotion, as if his body is begging for some release but his mind refuses to cry because crying is weak. Crying will get him in trouble.
His cheek is still throbbing from the day before, the cut raw from him not treating it. His nightshirt is stained with blood, because he didn’t stop the bleeding in enough time to prevent stains.
He touches the now closed cut absentmindedly. It’ll probably scar. It’s ugly. Messy. Everything Lan Zhan is not.
He can never let anyone see it.
He usually applies makeup to hide very slight imperfections, but he’s never hidden a scar, so he attempts to cover it with some concealer. He would google it, but his father monitors his phone, so he doesn’t bother.
He can’t hide the raised skin, but after a good few minutes of applying concealer, it looks like a minor break out, which is better than a scar. He dutifully applies foundation atop it, blending the skin into the rest of his face in hopes that it won’t look too obvious.
He applies some concealer and foundation under his eyes as well, just for good measure. He blends it out methodically, making sure it’s a smooth transition to the scar on his left cheek.
He ties up his hair, as usual, brushing the knot out when he gets to it. It takes a while.
His hands are shaking as he does it. He nearly drags the comb across his scar in the process of trying to put his hair up, but he gets it done.
The ponytail is lopsided. Just a bit, but it’s visible to Lan Zhan, who does this exact same hairstyle every day. He redoes it. It remains off center.
It looks like something is wrong. But there’s nothing he can do about that. Any change in hair or style would be noticed and reported, so there isn’t much more he can do about it.
He goes to school as usual. No one asks him anything. He feels the whole day go by like a blur, voices buzzing around his ears but not making sense. He isn’t too vocal in classes regardless, only answering when called on, so his silence is not unusual. He isn’t usually called on regardless, because teachers always assume that he knows what’s going on because he always seems to.
Today, he absorbs no information. He learns what he thinks is a decently important calculus concept, but he doesn’t really get it, for once. He almost wishes he was called on, so he could answer incorrectly and someone would finally realize that something is wrong.
But no one does. Not in calculus, and not in any of his other classes. He goes to the cafe at lunch, as always, but he does not play. He sits at the keys, staring at the book that Wei Ying gave him with Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2 in it. He’d been looking forward to coming back yesterday because he’s almost done with learning the piece, and he was excited to finally be able to play it all together.
Instead, he lets his hands drift across the keys to a composition he’d started that day he first met Wei Ying.
It’s a soft song. Nothing half as complicated as what he played when he took lessons and competed. Even now, he usually plays things by the masters of classical piano.
This song is gentle. It’s full of all the words he could never say, lodged deep in the back of his throat. It’s full of his whole heart, and everything he wishes he could give, accented with the steadiness of vanilla cologne and the flitting notes of sandalwood incense. His left hand plays gentle arpeggios as the right plays a melody of longing and begging. Wishing for someone that he can never have.
In his head, he’s dubbed it Wangxian. A love song, in everything but name.
He only has a page of it written. He is not good at writing about his feelings, whether literally or metaphorically. He’s stuck on what to do with the chorus, and is no way talented enough to come up with his own verses. So he just plays what he has over and over again, putting it in different keys and changing up the harmonies as he goes. Just because.
He’s startled badly by soft clapping coming from the door.
He whips his head around and his heart sinks.
Wei Ying.
His father’s words suddenly echo in his head.
You do not want to know what will happen if you do not.
But Wei Ying seems dead-set on not letting Lan Zhan ignore him. He comes closer, expecting Lan Zhan to scoot over for him like he has the last few times he’s come, because Lan Zhan thought it was at least safe here. But it isn’t anymore.
He doesn’t move. Wei Ying frowns.
“Is something wrong?” The other boy probes, tilting his head as his eyes fill with concern. Lan Zhan can hear his own heart cracking in his chest at the note of worry in Wei Ying’s voice, but he stands his ground, and does not move, even if his heart begs him to. Even if his heart begs him to tell Wei Ying the truth, he can’t, because Wei Ying has always denied the impossible, and would probably try to cook up a way that they could be friends anyway.
Lan Zhan longs for that. He holds that chance gently in his palms like a fragile glass sphere.
“This needs to stop, Wei Ying.”
He drops the glass sphere to the floor, and the impact rings in his ears.
Wei Ying tilts his head and smiles, a small giggle escaping his lips. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Lan Zhan. You say that all the time. Listen, I–”
“No, Wei Ying. I am not joking with you.” Lan Zhan interrupts, his voice as cold as he can muster. He can feel the emotion brimming in the back of his throat, but he swallows it down. “I mean it. This needs to end.”
Wei Ying’s smile falters a bit. He blinks at the harshness of Lan Zhan’s tone, and it makes him feel awful. But he has to do this.
“This all has to stop.” He continues. “The gifts, the meetups, everything. It ends today.”
“Lan Zhan, what are you talking about?” Wei Ying frowns, taking a step closer. Lan Zhan feels his heart waver. What if he just kept meeting up with him in secret? He can tell Wei Ying to stop the gifts, and admit the truth to him about his father. They could just meet up here, and no one would know.
“I mean this needs to stop.” Lan Zhan emphasizes.
Wei Ying blinks. “What needs to stop?” He takes another step forward.
“Us.” He motions to the two of them. “There is no us, after today.”
“Lan Zhan, wait. What is this about? Maybe we can–”
“No, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan pleads, turning fully away from him so that he doesn’t see how Wei Ying’s expression falls. He also doesn’t want Wei Ying to see the way that his lips tremble and his eyes burn. “I do not want to talk to you. I will not.”
But all Wei Ying says is, “Lan Zhan, what the fuck happened to your face? Who the fuck did that to you?”
Horror fills Lan Zhan’s brain as he realizes that as he turned, he’d exposed his entire left cheek to Wei Ying, and he can see the raised skin. His heart warms at the concern in Wei Ying’s voice, but he can’t waver now. He’s so close. This is for the better. He’s protecting Wei Ying this way.
Right?
“Wei Ying.” He says coldly. “Go away. Leave me alone.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me who did that to you.” Wei Ying says, voice equally as cold as Lan Zhan’s own. It makes his eyes sting.
“Wei Ying.” He says quietly. “Please. Just go.” He hesitates, before adding, “This is for the better.”
“What’s for the better? You letting someone cut you?” Wei Ying shouts. “You not telling me who did it because you’re afraid to ask anyone for anything? You pushing me away even though you don’t talk to anyone else?’
Lan Zhan doesn’t reply.
“Forget it.” Wei Ying mutters. “Nevermind. Fine, I’ll go. Just–” He sighs. “Get that checked out. Promise me.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t reply to that, either.
When Wei Ying realizes that he isn’t going to get a reply, he leaves. Lan Zhan does not watch him go. Instead, he stares at the sheet music and all of his notes, and suddenly wishes desperately that Wei Ying would come back. He wishes he could run after him and just explain. He wishes he could have one thing he wanted, for once in his life.
He doesn’t end up doing any of that. Instead, he closes the keys and the score, and just sits in silence for the rest of his lunch period. He makes it back to school on time, and goes through the rest of his classes as usual, because nothing is wrong.
Nothing at all.
—
Lan Zhan dutifully avoids Wei Ying after that.
The first time he’d attempted to avoid Wei Ying, he hadn’t really put his heart in it, because he hadn’t assumed his father was watching him. This time, however, he knows he is, so he makes a point to avoid Wei Ying. He takes different routes, goes up different staircases, and even uses the staff elevator simply to avoid Wei Ying.
Some of Wei Ying’s friends attempt to talk to him. The second Nie kid tries to, a few times. Lan Zhan’s twin knows the boy’s older sibling, so Lan Zhan is courteous to him. But he does not agree to speak to Wei Ying, at all.
Jiang Cheng tries, too. He corners Lan Zhan multiple times to ask what happened, and to ask what Lan Zhan did to make Wei Ying so upset. Lan Zhan wishes he could tell him that it’s not just Wei Ying who’s upset, that he is also unhappy about this. That his father threatened to do something if Lan Zhan didn’t do what he’s doing.
But as usual, his voice fails him, so he just starts avoiding Jiang Cheng, too.
He also stops going to the cafe he used to frequent. He avoids music entirely, and debates burning whatever piano music he has left along with all of the things that Wei Ying had given him.
But when he goes to look for the music, all he finds is his first draft of Wangxian, stuffed deep into his drawer. Lan Zhan hid it there after he’d first composed it, afraid his uncle or father would find it if he left it out. He knows the piece so well he can play it with his eyes closed, but he kept the original copy of the score in case he ever thought of an idea for the chorus.
His hands tremble as he holds the score. His musical handwriting is pretty decent, according to his former piano teacher and the owner of the cafe he used to play piano at. But staring at it now, the score is so lifeless. It looks like a printer typed it. It doesn’t look human at all.
A drop of wetness falls onto the score. Then another. It’s only when Lan Zhan stops looking at the score and settles back into his body that he realizes he’s crying.
He stares at his shaking hands after he puts the score down, at his bitten nails and cuticles. He’d picked up the habit after he’d stopped talking to Wei Ying, anxiety crawling up his spine at the idea of talking to the other teen.
He bites his fingers bloody more often than not nowadays. He sleeps very little, as well.
So the first time he sees Wei Ying talking to Wen Ning, he thinks he’s hallucinating.
Wei Ying is laughing, as he usually is. He doesn’t look much different from usual, besides his abnormally dark clothing. His laughter is different, too. Darker. More forced, as if he’s not amused at all.
Wen Ning, Lan Zhan has heard of. His family runs a pharmaceutical company, Wen’s Prescriptions. It’s the biggest company in the country of its kind. Lan Zhan has heard of it. He’s also heard the whispers circulating around Wen Ning and his background. He’s not one for idle rumors, but he has heard a thing or two that he really hopes isn’t true, but isn’t unlikely.
One positive thing he’s heard, Wen Ning is talented. Very much so. No one can dance like him, apparently.
Lan Zhan has never seen him, but he knows Wei Ying is better. But he doesn’t say that, obviously. He pretends to mind his own business while watching Wei Ying as subtly as he can muster, which is what he does nowadays. He peers at Wei Ying when he thinks the other isn’t looking, and lets his heart ache, because he deserves it. He pushed Wei Ying away. Now he is suffering the consequences.
But apparently, he’s not as subtle as he thinks, if only for the way Wei Ying corners him in the elevator on their way down.
“You’ve been watching me.” He hisses. “All day. What’s your problem?”
Lan Zhan watches the elevator number tick as they descend, and wishes it would tick faster.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, asshole.” Wei Ying snips, pinning Lan Zhan against the wall. “I asked you a question.”
Lan Zhan’s heart begins to race out of his chest, and he has no way of hiding the surprise from his face. All he can do is anything but gape at how close Wei Ying is to him. They’re the same height, but like this, Wei Ying feels bigger than him. Lan Zhan suddenly finds that he would not mind being smaller than Wei Ying, if this is how it feels.
“You were speaking with Wen Ning.” He mumbles, evading the question by asking his own. Though, it’s not really a question, because they both know it to be true.
“Yeah, what of it?” Wei Ying asks, before his eyes narrow. “Don’t tell me you believe all the shit being said about him, Lan Zhan. You’re better than that. Surely.”
“I– I do not engage with rumors.” Lan Zhan says, hoping his voice won’t break. He wishes talking to Wei Ying didn’t make him so weak in the knees. His lack of proper sleep for the past few weeks is not helping. “However–”
“His family is awful.” Wei Ying finishes, anger brimming in his voice. “That’s what you were gonna say, right? That all Wens are bad?”
“To say his family is good is a lie.” Lan Zhan says instead, dodging Wei Ying’s accusation yet again, but only by the skin of his teeth.
“You’ve never even spoken to him.” Wei Ying points out, crossing his arms as he presses closer to Lan Zhan. To intimidate him, probably. It’s very much working. Lan Zhan can feel his palms clamming up, his heart stopping with every breath Wei Ying exhales. Each one blows directly at him. What a feeling. “How do you know if he’s a good person or not?”
Lan Zhan swallows. He has nothing to say in response to that.
“Wen Ning isn’t his family.” Wei Ying says coldly, his lips curling into a sneer. “Besides, what would you know about what makes someone a good person, Lan Zhan? A good person doesn’t run away from their problems.”
The elevator chimes. Wei Ying gets out. Lan Zhan is frozen in place long enough that the elevator door closes before he can get out.
At least he hadn’t asked about the scar, this time. It’s finally scabbed, but it's left an ugly mark on his cheek. Nothing that makeup can’t hide, though.
He still goes to his usual dance training. He’d been asked to go to a different room than usual, today, so he walks past his usual training room and goes to the studio at the end of the hall. It’s the same layout as all of the other studios, but it isn’t used for dance practice. It’s usually used as a spare room if anyone wants to practice on their own, or if a teacher wants to do one-on-one sessions with a trainee.
When he arrives, the room is only full of six people. The first Jin son is there. Lan Zhan never did learn his name. Along with Wei Ying, Wen Ning, the second Nie son. He’s surprised Jiang Cheng isn’t there with them. And, to Lan Zhan’s surprise, Lan Huan, his twin, is present.
Lan Zhan doesn’t really talk to his twin often. They live separately, and Lan Huan is so isolated that he isn’t allowed any method of communication. He’s supposed to dedicate every waking moment to becoming the successor to Gusu Entertainment, which means that he doesn’t have time for anyone except his teachers and his father.
But when the twins were younger, they were close. So Lan Zhan is kind of relieved that he’s there, because now he has someone to sit next to instead of sitting alone on the side.
Lan Huan smiles at him as he sits next to him, and asks him how he’s been. He hasn’t seen his twin for a long while. Lan Zhan actually can’t remember the last time he saw him. He looks very similar to Lan Zhan himself, but he has much straighter hair and his skin is deathly pale. His speech is so eloquent it may as well be poetry, and he corrects Lan Zhan on his grammar several times. It should be annoying, but it gives Lan Zhan something to focus on besides his aching heart, so he just lets his twin do what he wants.
The teacher eventually clears his throat, and all six of them stop talking and turn to face him.
“You’ve all been summoned here today instead of your training.” The teacher begins. “There is a reason that there are only six of you, and not twenty as I am sure many of you expected.”
They all tilt their heads to various degrees. Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying cock an eyebrow, and thinks that he looks really attractive that way. He swallows, and faces the teacher again.
“Congratulations. The six of you will debut in eight months.”
—
On the first day of training, Wei Ying and Wen Ning do not show up.
The first day turns into the second. The second turns into the third, which turns to the fourth, then to the fifth.
One day turns into one week, which turns to two. Then three.
One week turns into one month. Then two.
Three months turn into, “Wei Ying and Wen Ning are missing”.
“Wei Ying and Wen Ning are missing” turns into “Jiang Cheng will be taking Wei Ying’s place”. They never end up filling Wen Ning’s vacant role. Perhaps this is just the excuse they wanted.
“Jiang Cheng will be taking Wei Ying’s place” turns into “you all will have your debut showcase at the end of the month”.
“You all will have your debut showcase at the end of the month” turns into “New five member idol group debuts after almost 3 years of training!”.
Wei Ying does not come back.
Lan Zhan tries to pretend like he isn’t waiting.
—
Concerts are dull. They’ve always been dull. Lan Zhan has thought so since his debut, and his opinion hasn’t changed with time. Not even more than a decade of performing can make it exciting.
Long ago, Lan Zhan realized why this was the case– he had no one to perform for. He’s long realized that he doesn’t care what the fans think of him, which is a problem when you’re an idol and that’s literally your job. His groupmates have tried to get him a bit more excited about performing(save Jiang Cheng, who has never warmed up to him. He doesn’t care, he still dislikes him), but nothing they’ve ever said has worked for him.
One of the first things he did after debuting was cut his hair. It’s right below the shoulders, nowadays. He usually wears it out, letting the waves cascade down his face. He has bangs, too. He never realized how heavy his head was until he’d cut his hair, and it felt like he could finally breathe. Like he’d finally become an adult. It was his eighteenth birthday present to himself(alas, it was a few months early, but who cares).
He also got his first pair of glasses, because his eyesight had gotten exponentially worse in the time when it was announced he was debuting and his eyes watered every time he put in contacts. Lan Huan thinks the glasses make him look mature, and the fans think they’re sexy. Nie Hua tries to steal them from him constantly, and Jiang Cheng threw his first pair to the floor when they got into their nth fight about Wei Ying that month.
Dorming for the first time was hell on earth, but he has to admit, he’s grown fond of his groupmates over the years. Even Jiang Cheng. They’re all his group members. His… team. They all still live together, even though they’ve been a group for over a decade and have long had the seniority to get their own apartments. They just… never got around to it. They still share the same three bedroom apartment they’ve always shared.
He doesn’t speak to his father anymore. He hasn’t spoken to him since he left. He’s never been happier.
Nie Hua in particular has become a decent friend of his, over the years. He’s also gotten close to his twin, finally having the excuse to talk to him and be with him after almost two decades of Lan Huan being entirely isolated.
Teaching his twin how the world worked was definitely a major hurdle, but Lan Huan’s innocent nature is something the fans adore, so he doesn’t see it as a bad thing. Lan Zhan doesn’t understand him at all, but he goes along with it. He’s the serious twin, his brother is the cute twin. That’s how it’s been their entire career, and Lan Zhan is fine with it.
The fans find his blunt nature endearing, according to Nie Hua. They like how straightforward he is with them, how he sets boundaries. They like his ‘domineering aura’. Whatever that means. Lan Zhan doesn’t really care. He just tries to shut his heart as far away as he can, and lets his brain do the rest.
The first time the fans ever got something deep at the bottom of his heart was when they released their first album of solo songs, five years into their career. Lan Huan had walked into him singing a song he’d written on Wei Ying’s birthday, and had immediately fallen in love with it. He’d said it let one into the ‘more authentic’ Lan Zhan.
More specifically, the Lan Zhan that grieves.
He named the song ‘Bu Wang’. Never forget.
It’s the most popular of the six solo songs released in that album.
He’s not excited for this concert at all. It’s a thirteenth anniversary concert in Beijing, and has been practiced over and over again for months on end. They started preparing for this concert last September, and it’s May.
He’s sitting at soundcheck, watching Lan Huan check the mics, when he hears it.
Singing.
He hears a lot of singing nowadays. Fans sing back to him at concerts. When he first released Bu Wang, he had to sing it live for some content that they recorded. Lan Huan hums it under his breath sometimes. Nie Hua sings in the shower, and Jiang Cheng sings to whatever metal music he blasts in his and Nie Hua’s shared room when he does his taxes. Jin Rui sings to his girlfriend via audio(they’d found out one unfortunate time when he’d accidentally sent them a voice recording instead of her. He’s now dubbed ‘singing beauty’).
But this isn’t just any singing. This person, whoever they are, is singing something that no one should know. It’s a tune that Lan Zhan hasn’t thought about in more than a decade, a tune that no one should know except him.
Wangxian.
His heart stops in his chest, and he whips his head around in surprise. The singing is coming from backstage, he thinks, so he immediately runs backstage to follow the sound.
He pushes through makeup artists, his group members, and who knows what else in search of the sound. He almost thinks he’s hearing it in his head, but some other people are looking around in confusion too, as if they hear it. So he’s not crazy, which makes him feel a little bit better.
He finds the culprit in the sound room.
The man holds a microphone in his hands. In theory, the sound system is used to play the backtrack, for when one of them is feeling lazy or just to play whatever backup music the band can’t play. He supposes this is a way to check mics, but this man isn’t one of his group members nor the sound technicians.
No.
The man staring back at him is a face he’d never forget, no matter if thirteen years passed or one hundred thirty years passed.
“Wei Ying.” He says quietly, his eyes wide. He’d school his expression, but suddenly, his brain has turned off. The room falls away. Everything falls away. All of the commotion outside goes quiet. Nothing exists anymore except for the man in front of him.
Wei Ying, because it is Wei Ying, Lan Zhan realizes when he turns to look at him, is just as shocked. His eyes go wide as saucers, and his jaw drops a bit. Wei Ying is thinner than he remembers. His hair is much longer, and he looks tired. His clothes hang off his frame in a way that can’t be healthy. But he’s undoubtedly Wei Ying, no matter how he changes.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying says quietly, voice much more broken than he’s ever heard it.
“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan repeats himself, because he’s still not sure if he’s hallucinating or not.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying echoes, because Wei Ying always took things at Lan Zhan’s pace, no matter what.
“You’re here.” Lan Zhan points out, as if that wasn’t obvious.
“Yeah.” Wei Ying agrees. “I am.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t know what to say. He’s too busy taking in Wei Ying’s features. His grey eyes are so dull in comparison to what Lan Zhan remembers. His eyelashes are the same length. His cheeks are a bit sunken. His hands are shaky where they grip the microphone.
“You remembered it.” Lan Zhan says, after a short pause. “My composition.”
“Yeah.” Wei Ying nods. “I.. I did.”
They fall into another period of silence. Neither of them really know what to say. Thirteen years apart, and one would think they’d jump for joy. Lan Zhan has wished for this moment every single day since Wei Ying disappeared. Now that it’s arrived, he’s at a loss for words. Way to go.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” Wei Ying asks eventually, returning Lan Zhan’s attention to his voice.
“Why would I be mad at you?” Lan Zhan asks in return, his eyebrows furrowing. What reason would he have to be mad at Wei Ying, at all people? Shouldn’t Wei Ying be mad at him?
“I– I left.” Wei Ying chokes out. “I left without saying anything.”
This is true. His heart pangs at the memory.
“You did.” Lan Zhan agrees with him. “But you’re okay. And I..” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”
Wei Ying’s face falls, and Lan Zhan is about to ask if he said something wrong until Wei Ying suddenly throws himself at him. Suddenly, he has two armfuls of a sobbing Wei Ying, and his heart shatters in his chest.
“I’m sorry.” Wei Ying says quietly. “For– for everything. I–” He takes Lan Zhan’s face in his palms, cupping his cheeks and gently rubbing his thumb against the skin. Lan Zhan leans into the touch, unable to stop himself. He’s sure Wei Ying has felt the scar when his left thumb hesitates against his cheek, and Wei Ying’s eyes soften a bit further.
“There is no need for ‘sorry’ between us.” Lan Zhan says quietly. He holds Wei Ying as close as he can, wishing he could hide him in his ribs and protect him with his flesh and bones. He swallows, trying to contain his own emotions, but the sheer amount of relief he feels is overwhelming, and he can feel his eyes stinging.
“I… I’m sorry too.” He continues, once his throat isn’t so tight that not even air could pass through.
After a pause, he finds his voice again. “We…” He takes a deep breath. “...have a lot of talking to do. I… have some things I need to tell you.”
Wei Ying laughs, and Lan Zhan feels his tears wetting his sweater. “Yeah?” He murmurs, letting his forehead rest against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. He still wears that same vanilla cologne as he did when he was a teenager. “What do you need to tell me, Lan Zhan?”
“Why I pushed you away.” Lan Zhan whispers in exchange, burying his face in the crook of Wei Ying’s neck. It’s so forward, so rash, but Wei Ying seems to relish in the action, running his fingers through Lan Zhan’s short hair. “I… I need to make up for my actions.”
Wei Ying hums. “I guess I need to make up for mine too, then.” Lan Zhan can feel Wei Ying breathing, his chest inhaling and exhaling against Lan Zhan’s own, and it brings him a sense of peace he’s never felt before.
For the first time in a very long time, just for a moment, he thinks everything will be okay.