Work Text:
February 16th
Wei Ying liked his job. Really, he did. He loved getting his hands on beautiful hair and twisting it, transforming it. He loved that he could get his own hair done for free, and do whatever he liked with it—currently, a bright red streak right next to his face, the rest of his long, dark hair pulled up in a messy bun. He loved his coworkers and he loved ninety percent of his customers.
Some days, though.
Owning your own salon was a lot harder than renting a chair. Bills to pay. Inventory to order. Schedules to manage.
Thankfully, the middle of the day on a weekday wasn’t horrendously busy. Not so quiet that he worried about his bottom line, but quiet enough for him to steal away a few minutes in the break room, shoveling cup noodles into his mouth.
Wen Qing dropped across from him with a heavy sigh.
“If one more man answers ‘how would you like your hair cut?’ with ‘shorter’ I am going to pack my bags and quit,” she said.
“You will be missed,” Wei Ying assured her around a mouthful of noodles.
“Clippers or scissors? Ears cut out or not? Squared or rounded in the back? Longer on top? One length all over? Give me something to work with .” With a vicious glare, Wen Qing unpacked her own lunch, stabbing her salad with much more force than was actually necessary.
Wei Ying reached out and patted her shoulder lightly. “There, there,” he said, tilting the cup so he could gulp down the last dregs of broth. She glared at him, too.
“At least this one didn’t hit on you,” Mianmian said from the doorway. “It’s so creepy when they hit on you while you’re working. I’m not smiling because I like you or because I haven’t heard your terrible hair cut joke three thousand times already. I’m smiling because it is literally my job to be nice to you.”
Wei Ying, who could not say it had never happened but who certainly had to deal with it less often than his coworkers, hummed in sympathy.
“Do either of you have time for a walk-in?” Mianmian asked.
“No,” Wen Qing said firmly. “I am on lunch.”
Lunch time was precious. There were too many days they didn’t get one for Wei Ying to expect Wen Qing to give hers up. He nodded at Mianmian.
“Just a cut?”
“Wash, cut, and dry,” she said apologetically. “On long hair. Really long. Like, he might be able to sit on it soon if we don’t trim it for him. Yes, I price quoted him already.“
Wei Ying pulled a face and glanced at his watch. Thank god for slow weekdays—his next client wasn’t for another forty minutes. Just enough time to squeeze in a stranger.
“Can you get Miss Liu shampooed for me when she comes in?” He asked, stretching as he stood. Mianmian nodded and stepped out of his way.
She was right. The man standing at the counter, looking stiff and uncomfortable, had hair long enough to rival Wei Ying’s. And god, it was beautiful. Wei Ying’s fingers itched to touch it.
Everything about the man was beautiful, actually. He even managed to look beautiful while frowning at Mianmian’s station, still a mess from her color.
He turned his frown on Wei Ying, looking like every stern school teacher Wei Ying had ever had. Wei Ying was suddenly conscious of the color stains under his fingernails, the patch at his elbow where lightener had bleached his black shirt orange just that morning. Things that were expected occupational hazards suddenly felt like personal moral failings.
Wei Ying cleared his throat, forcing himself back on track. “So,” he said, coming up to the desk to take a peek at the computer. “Did Mianmian get you signed in—ah, she did. Lan Zhan, was it?”
The man nodded shortly.
“Welcome,” Wei Ying chirped, clapping his hands together. “I’m Wei Ying. I’ll be your stylist today. You wanted your hair shampooed and dried, as well as cut, right?”
Another brisk nod. Wei Ying never knew what to do with taciturn clients like this. Quiet was one thing, Wei Ying could handle quiet. Some people wanted to just come in, get their cut, and get out. But this was a whole new level of reserved. Wei Ying felt like his every move was being scrutinized.
“Well, follow me, then. Ah, you can leave your bag in this chair, this is my station.” Wei Ying patted his chair as he passed, leading Lan Zhan back to the shampoo bowls.
Lan Zhan, thankfully, wasn’t one of those people who kept their eyes open for a shampoo. It gave Wei Ying a break from that heavy gaze, time for him to breathe.
He’d had clients like this before. Clients who were difficult to please, who sized him up and found him lacking before he even got them in his chair. As Wei Ying massaged Lan Zhan’s scalp, he reminded himself that he was a good stylist, a great stylist, even, and he was going to give Lan Zhan the absolute best he had to offer.
Slowly, the furrow in Lan Zhan’s brow smoothed out. Wei Ying mentally cheered; no one could resist a good shampoo.
“Okay,” he said once he had Lan Zhan’s hair wrapped up in a towel, “let’s get you started.”
Back in his chair, Lan Zhan continued to be reserved. He said nothing as Wei Ying draped him in a cape and let his hair spill free, gently brushing out any tangles. “So,” he said cheerfully, “What are we doing for your hair today?”
“…trim,” Lan Zhan said. His voice was deep, but quiet, as if he was unused to speaking. Wei Ying ran his fingers through the waist-long hair again.
“Okay. So, a trim can mean different things to different people. For some people, it’s barely a dusting, for others, it’s a good couple inches. Can you show me what a trim looks like to you?”
Lan Zhan’s brow furrowed. He picked up a lock of damp hair, considering it for a moment, before pinching about half an inch away from the ends and holding it up for Wei Ying’s inspection.
“Alright, I can definitely work with that. How do we feel about layers?”
“…Mn.”
Wei Ying proceeded to do the quietest haircut of his life. Oh, he tried to stir up a conversation—he was a bit of a chatterbox, if he was honest with himself—but after getting only a few ‘mns’ in response, he gave up. Some people just didn’t want to talk during a cut, and that was alright. He chattered a bit with Wen Qing when she came back on the floor, and otherwise let Lan Zhan sit in his peace.
“Mind if I use a little product?” Wei Ying asked when the cut was done, reaching for his mousse and blow-dry spray.
After a moment, Lan Zhan shook his head.
“No, no product, or no you don’t mind?”
“…I don’t mind.”
Wei Ying poured mousse into his hands and rubbed them together.
Wei Ying both loved and hated blow drying. You couldn’t really talk during, it could be horrendously tedious— especially on long, thick hair like Lan Zhan’s— and his arms would hate him by the end of the day.
But it was also rhythmic and relaxing. Wei Ying could just space out for twenty minutes, moving on autopilot as he brushed and smoothed out each section.
“Done!” He finally said, setting his dryer aside. “What do you think?”
Lan Zhan leaned forward, inspecting himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through the ends of his hair, tugging lightly to check for split ends. Finally, he leaned back for Wei Ying to remove the cape.
“Mn.”
Mn. Mn . Getting information from this man was like pulling teeth. Wei Ying took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, and led Lan Zhan to the front desk, giving the touch screen a few taps.
“So for a wash, cut, and dry on long hair, that’ll be $62?”
Wei Ying’s voice tipped up at the end, despite his best efforts, and he cringed. He knew better than to question his prices by now. He knew he ran a more upscale salon, he knew long hair took more time and he deserved to be compensated for that time. He knew there were other salons that charged even more than he did. But there was always that moment of nervousness with a new client, that fear that he was about to be on the end of a buyer’s remorse lecture. Especially when he couldn’t honestly be sure his client had enjoyed the experience.
But Lan Zhan merely inserted his card into the machine, tapping away at it.
He tipped 15$. Wei Ying’s tense shoulders relaxed. People didn’t usually tip over twenty percent if they were about to start yelling.
He turned before Wei Ying could say anything about rebooking, heading for the door. “Thanks for coming in!” Wei Ying called after him.
He thought he heard a quiet ‘thank you,’ in return, but he couldn’t be sure. Wei Ying waited until Lan Zhan had gotten into his car and pulled away, before sinking against the counter with a loud, dramatic sigh. Mianmian peered over his shoulder at the check out screen and whistled.
“And here I thought he hated you.”
“Me too,” Wei Ying groaned. Wen Qing, coming up to check out her own client, gave his shoulder two half-hearted pats.
“There, there,” she said dryly. “Miss Liu is ready for you.”
Wei Ying rolled up his sleeves and got back to work.
April 13th
Wei Ying didn’t think about Lan Zhan at all after that. He saw dozens of people a week, and some of them were weird. It was just a thing that happened when you worked as closely with people as Wei Ying did. Some stories stuck out, to be shared at the bar later with friends, but mostly the days blurred together.
So it took a minute for Wei Ying to recognize him eight weeks later.
“Oh!” he said after a moment, setting his shears aside. “I’ll be right back,” he said to his client.
Lan Zhan looked just as pinched and out of place as he had last time, though at least this time Wei Ying’s clothes were clean and stain-free. He felt less like he was under a microscope.
“It was Lan Zhan, right?” He asked, pulling up the schedule.
Lan Zhan nodded.
“Wash, cut, and dry,” Wei Ying murmured, eyeing up the limited spaces. “Mianmian has time right now.”
“How long for Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying glanced up, startled. He wasn’t sure what shocked him more, that Lan Zhan had liked his service enough to request him again, or that Lan Zhan was speaking . “About twenty minutes?” He said. “I’m almost done with my cut and they won’t take long to dry. Short hair,” he added.
Lan Zhan glanced at Wei Ying’s client and nodded. “I will wait for Wei Ying,” he said, settling himself into a chair at the front.
Wei Ying returned to his client, trying to shake his surprise.
Lan Zhan’s second cut went much the same as the first had. When pressed, Lan Zhan indicated about a quarter of an inch to be trimmed, nodded to the question of layers, and once again acquiesced to product in his long, beautiful hair. Wei Ying couldn’t stop touching it. It was, once again, a dead silent haircut on Lan Zhan’s end.
Lan Zhan tipped 20$ this time. Wei Ying couldn’t help the brightness of his smile, now that he knew Lan Zhan was satisfied with his work. “Thanks for coming in,” he called after Lan Zhan’s retreating back.
“Was that the grump-faced guy?” Mianmian asked in a hushed whisper.
“The very same,” Wei Ying said, pulling his tip from the drawer and adding it to the roll in his apron pocket. Mianmian hummed thoughtfully.
“Okay, maybe he’s not as big a jerk as I thought he was.”
June 8th
The third time Lan Zhan showed up to his shop, it was to find Wei Ying in the middle of an argument with a particularly belligerent customer.
“Well, that price is just ridiculous,” she was yelling. The conversation had deteriorated rapidly since she’d walked in, demanding to be taken right away.
“Ma’am,” Wei Ying said, with rapidly vanishing patience. “Your hair is long and thick. It takes more product and more time. I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do for you.”
“It’s not that long,” she sniffed, pulling it forward over her shoulders. Wei Ying bit his tongue. He was nice. He was polite. He was the face of the shop and he needed to keep his stellar reputation. He could do this.
“I’m sorry, but those are our prices.”
“ That much for something I can do at home, with a box, for less than 20 dollars?”
Wei Ying threw up his hands, patience snapping like an over-stretched rubber band. “Fine,” he said. “Do that. Corrective colors start at 150 and go up from there.”
“ Corrective,” she spluttered.
“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying said again, though he wasn’t. He probably should have been, but it was difficult. “But box color often doesn’t react well with our lighteners and colors, and can make it even more difficult for us to achieve our desired result. If you come in with box dye on your hair, it isn’t automatically a corrective color, but it can be, especially if the application is uneven.”
“Well, your attitude just lost a paying customer,” she said with a sniff. Wei Ying gripped the edge of the desk, nails digging into the wood.
“You didn’t want to be a paying customer! You declined to be serviced!”
She huffed, spun on her heel, and shoved past Lan Zhan on her way out the door. Wei Ying shrunk in on himself, as he often did after a difficult encounter.
He knew that not everyone appreciated or understood what went into coloring hair, and he tried not to hold that against them, but some people could be downright nasty. And he was mad at himself for product-shaming; if box dye was what worked for a client and their budget, it wasn’t his place to judge.
But she’d come in snapping at Wen Qing, literally snapping, like she was a dog, and he’d just been so… angry .
Finally, he noticed the other person in the room, and his cheeks colored. “L-Lan Zhan!” he stammered. “You, uh… I’m sorry you had to see that. That was extremely unprofessional of me.”
Lan Zhan’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head.
“Frustration is understandable,” he said, and Wei Ying slowly relaxed. If Lan Zhan, calm, put-together Lan Zhan wasn’t judging him, maybe he hadn’t been that bad after all.
Or at least, if he was, it was a reasonable response to the attitude he’d been getting.
“Ah, you’re too good to me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, pulling up the schedule. “Same thing as before? I should have time.”
Lan Zhan nodded and Wei Ying clapped his hands together.
“Alright, you know the drill, back to the shampoo bowl.”
Maybe it was because he was still keyed up, maybe it was anxiety, but Wei Ying just… couldn’t be quiet for this hair cut. He kept up a running string of commentary as he combed through Lan Zhan’s hair, chattering away as if he was getting more of a response than the occasional hum.
“You know, Lan Zhan, you’re a really good listener,” He said as he picked up his dryer.
Lan Zhan hummed in response, but it was with the slightest quirk of the lips, an almost-smile that nearly had Wei Ying dropping his very expensive equipment.
Wei Ying was still grinning to himself when he checked Lan Zhan out, his mood completely changed around. He was so distracted, he completely forgot to ask Lan Zhan about rebooking.
August 3rd
Wei Ying was doing a Balayage on long, beautiful, virgin hair. This should have been the time of his life. He should have been in his element, basking in the glow of having the perfect canvas for the perfect process.
Instead, all he could think about was his shirt. He’d worn a really nice shirt today, with mid-length, draping sleeves. He knew better . He knew no amount of clips would keep those sleeves out of the way. He knew it was a stupid idea to wear a shirt you really liked to work when you were a hair stylist. And yet he continued to do this, time after time. There were speckles on his shirt that were slowly bleaching to a hideous shade of orange, and a nice big splotch on the end of his left sleeve. He would have to sit down with a black permanent marker and try to fill them in, later.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He knew better. He’d done this dozens of times by now, and every time he swore to himself he’d wear nothing but plain t-shirts from here on out.
Every time, he got cocky and overconfident, and wound up ruining another nice shirt.
He was just settling in for another round of mentally deriding his own short-sightedness, when Lan Zhan walked in. Wei Ying’s heart sank.
“Oh, Lan Zhan,” he said, layering another foil. “You caught me at a bad time.”
It had been bound to happen sooner or later; Wei Ying was a busy man, and Lan Zhan couldn’t possibly get lucky every visit.
“I can wait,” Lan Zhan said, settling into a seat.
Wei Ying looked from the foils to the desk, longing, but realistic. “I’m gonna be at least another two hours,” He said. “Mianmian has time at two?”
“I will wait for Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, firm but not mean. Wei Ying bit back a smile.
“You want us to put you in the book and you can come back later?”
Lan Zhan shook his head. He pulled a laptop from his bag, and began to type. Wei Ying felt a rush of unexpected fondness.
“The WiFi password is Suibian,” he said. “Capital S.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan acknowledged, and either Wei Ying was getting really good at interpreting Lan Zhan, or his wild imagination was getting away with him, but it sounded grateful.
Lan Zhan really did wait. He didn’t get antsy, or stare Wei Ying down, the way some clients did no matter how clear he was on the expected time. He was entirely patient, while Wei Ying washed and toned and washed again. He only put the laptop away when Wei Ying was finishing up a blow dry with big, beachy waves.
His client loved it, because of course she did. Wei Ying was good at what he did, and that was not arrogance, just well-deserved confidence. She left with a smile on her face and a spring in her step, and Wei Ying spared only a single longing thought for his neglected lunch in the back before turning to Lan Zhan.
“Alright,” he said, “Let’s get to it.”
Afterwards, Wei Ying stopped Lan Zhan at the desk. “You come pretty regularly,” he said. “Why don’t we book you a few weeks out, that way you don’t have to wait next time?”
Lan Zhan gave him a nod. Wei Ying skipped forward a few months.
“Alright, so I was thinking twelve weeks?”
“Eight,” Lan Zhan said. Wei Ying hummed.
“I’ve noticed your hair is pretty healthy, and it doesn’t split very quickly. You probably don’t need to come as often as you do.” It was rare that Wei Ying talked himself out of money, but he liked Lan Zhan. He wanted to be upfront with him, rather than have him getting trims he didn’t need.
“Eight weeks,” Lan Zhan said firmly. Wei Ying gave him a lopsided smile.
“Alright. Eight weeks. That puts us at…”
September 28th
Wen Ning joined the team in September. He had just graduated beauty school, having started on his hair journey much later than Wen Qing and Wei Ying had. He was eager to apprentice at the shop he’d heard so much about from his sister.
He was a pretty good apprentice to have, always eager to help, always willing to learn. Wei Ying had only had one previous assistant, and it had not worked out well.
Wen Ning didn’t mind folding towels or washing color bowls, though, and he was practically ecstatic to be given a mannequin to work on. Wei Ying set him up at the station right next to his, so he could watch Wei Ying work while he did his own practice.
When Lan Zhan arrived, Wei Ying waved Wen Ning over to the desk.
“Lan Zhan, this is our new assistant, Wen NIng. He’s not taking clients yet, but he’ll get you checked in, and if it’s alright with you, I’d like him to wash your hair.”
Lan Zhan hesitated, eying Wen Ning warily, or what passed for warily on his stoic features.
“I would still be doing your cut and dry,” Wei Ying hastened to assure him. “Wen Ning’s just learning step by step. Shampooing is a good place for him to start.”
Lan Zhan gave Wen Ning a stiff nod and followed him to the shampoo bowl. Wei Ying watched them out of the corner of his eye as he cleaned up his station, pleased to see that Lan Zhan relaxed slowly under Wen Ning’s capable hands.
“How was he?” He asked Lan Zhan, once the other man was in his chair. Lan Zhan gave the question proper consideration.
“...Firm,” he finally said. “It was pleasant.”
Wei Ying grinned broadly. “Excellent! I keep telling him he’s doing just fine.” This was said loudly in Wen Ning’s general direction. Wen Ning turned pink and busied himself with his mannequin.
Lan Zhan’s haircut was as easy as breathing by now. Wei Ying knew exactly what he liked and how to achieve it, and it took him no time at all to work through it. All the while, he kept catching Lan Zhan staring in the mirror.
“What?” he finally asked. “Do I have color somewhere I can’t see again?”
“Your hair.”
“Oh,” Wei Ying said, tugging at the colored streak by his face, which was now a deep purple. “Yeah, I thought I needed a change. Do you like it?”
Lan Zhan gave a slow nod, and then seemed to hesitate over something. Wei Ying shot him an encouraging smile.
“You can be honest. My hair is a perpetual work in progress.” As was the rest of him.
“The red suited you.”
Wei Ying beamed. “Yeah, I thought so too. Maybe next time you come in, I’ll have switched back.”
After a moment, Lan Zhan nodded.
November 23rd
“You know, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, holding up a lock of Lan Zhan’s damp hair, “You should let me do something fun with your hair. Something different.”
“I like my hair,” Lan Zhan said, voice tinged with an uncertainty no one else would have been able to pick out.
“I like your hair too,” Wei YIng assured him, “but don’t you get tired of having the same thing all the time?” To emphasize, Wei Ying gave his own hair a tug. The red was back, but now in two streaks that framed his face.
“No,” Lan Zhan said, with even more uncertainty. A slight furrow appeared between his brows. Wei Ying was pretty sure he had him.
“You’d look great with an undercut, though I guess with how long it would have taken you to grow this hair out, maybe that’s not to your tastes. Ooh, how about a pop of color?” Wei Ying lifted a strand by Lan Zhan’s face. “What do you think? We could match!”
Lan Zhan swallowed, looking between Wei Ying and the strand of hair. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and for a moment Wei Ying worried he’d pushed too far.
A loud clatter sounded next to them, followed by murmured apologies. Wei Ying looked to his left. Poor Wen Ning had knocked over or dropped his entire tray of combs, and was now scrambling to pick them up. He’d only just started taking real clients a week ago, and while his work was excellent, sometimes his nerves got the better of him.
“One second, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, setting his own comb to the side. He crouched to help Wen Ning, ignoring the prickling feeling he got as Wen Ning’s client stared them down.
“Sorry about that,” Wei Ying said cheerfully, setting Wen Ning’s combs aside to be sanitized. “Wen Ning, you can borrow some of my tools.”
“You don’t have a clue what you’re doing, do you?” the client asked. Wei Ying stared at him, holding up a hand to silence Wen Ning when he began to apologize.
“Would you care to rephrase that?” Wei Ying asked. The man sized Wei Ying up, and apparently found him lacking as well.
“Look at him. It’s clear he hasn’t got a clue. I am not letting some incompetant idiot who can barely hold a comb touch my hair.”
“Accidents happen to everyone,” Wei Ying said icily. “Just last month I knocked over my entire cart, and I’ve been doing this for six years. You are allowed to request a specific stylist. You are not allowed to speak to or about my team like that. Get out.”
The man blinked. “Ex cuse me?” he said.
“You heard me.”
“You can’t kick me out!” the man said. “Just who do you think you are?”
“I’m the owner,” Wei Ying said, gesturing towards the door, “And neither I nor anyone else in this shop would touch your greasy hair with a forty-foot pole. Get. Out.” He swept the cape from around the man’s shoulders, shoving it into Wen Ning’s arms.
The man grumbled under his breath as he gathered his things. Wei Ying caught such gems as ‘never in all my years’ and some condescending commentary about the state of Wei Ying’s hair, but he left Wen Ning’s chair and that was what mattered.
“You’re fine,” Wei Ying told Wen Ning softly. “It was an accident. It doesn’t say anything about you as a stylist.”
Next to them, Lan Zhan frowned, turning to watch Wen Ning’s client as he headed towards the door. “Wen Ning will cut my hair,” he said, slow, even, and pitched loudly enough to be heard by the angry man. The man stopped in his tracks, then huffed something under his breath and stormed out the door.
Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan, who turned and stared back.
“That… that’s very nice of you, s-sir,” Wen Ning stammered, “But you don’t have to-”
“Wei Ying trusts you,” Lan Zhan said, standing and taking the seat the man had vacated. “You will do a good job.”
It was the most Wei Ying had ever gotten out of Lan Zhan in one go. Speechless, he handed Wen Ning a comb.
With calm, reassuring patience, Lan Zhan held up his hair, indicating a quarter inch in length. “This much off,” he said. “And long layers. Then dried. With product.”
Wen Ning nodded, swallowing down his nerves.
With forty minutes suddenly freed up, Wei Ying took the time to watch them. He needn’t have bothered. Wen Ning, for all his nerves, for all his shyness, was a good stylist, and Lan Zhan’s haircut was not a difficult one. Slowly, the tension left Wen Ning’s shoulders, and he relaxed into the cut, enjoying that zen space that came when you knew exactly what you were doing. Wei Ying felt warmth in his chest, a rush of uncontrollable fondness for Lan Zhan.
It took Wen Ning a little longer than it usually took Wei Ying, but at the end of it, Lan Zhan looked as good as he would have in Wei Ying’s chair. A smile had returned to Wen Ning’s face, one that broadened when he checked Lan Zhan out and Lan Zhan had tipped him the same as he would have tipped Wei Ying.
“Thank you, sir,” he said earnestly. Lan Zhan nodded, apparently having used up his word quota for the day.
He was a good guy. Wei Ying was a little bit in love with him.
Oh. Well. That was a problem.
Wen Qing and Mianmian both thought his predicament was hilarious. Mianmian laughed up a storm. Wen Qing merely smiled, but it was the smile she gave whenever she was judging him. So, her typical smile.
“You can’t fall for a client,” Wen Qing said sensibly when they went out for drinks one night. She was, of course, right. There were a whole host of issues with it. For one thing, it was inappropriate. He was at work, clients were customers. Hitting on customers was unprofessional. Hitting on anyone while at work was unprofessional.
For another, most people were polite to people holding sharp objects by their heads ( most people). It didn’t mean anything. It was easy to read too much into social norms.
“I’m not falling for a client-- do you have to phrase it that way? This isn’t Pretty Woman!”
“You’d make a terrible Julia Roberts,” Mianmian agreed. Wei Ying groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“I’ve only had one drink, I’m not nearly drunk enough for you two to pick on me.
Wen Ning looked up from his Mai Tai. “Is it time for round two already?” He asked, alarmed. Wen Qing patted him on the hand.
“You are never expected to keep up with Wei Ying,” she said.
“In fact, we highly discourage it unless you want alcohol poisoning.” Mianmian added.
Wei Ying glowered at them both and flagged down the bartender.
December 21st
The Christmas rush was always horrendous. Everyone wanted to have their hair perfectly colored and cut and styled before the holidays, but only about half of them wanted to actually make an appointment ahead of time. The phone was ringing off the hook with people who thought they could get a color appointment only a day or two in advance, when Wei Ying had been booked out for weeks and even Wen Ning’s book was pretty full.
“But your sign says ‘Walk-ins welcome!’” the man at the desk insisted for the third time.
“Yes,” Wei Ying said, again , “and they are. When we have time for them. But if we already have appointments, then we have to prioritize them. We close in two hours and are already booked. I could make you an appointment for tomorrow? I still have one or two slots for just a haircut.”
“I don’t want an appointment, I want to walk in .”
Wei Ying clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palms. “Well, you can certainly try,” he said with forced cheer, “but I can’t promise those times will still be available tomorrow.
“Well, then you should change your sign,” the man said with a haughty scowl, “since walk-ins are obviously not welcome.” He turned on his heel before Wei Ying could unpack that logic, heading for the door.
In walked another client without an appointment, but this one was Lan Zhan, carrying a large basket with a bow tied atop it. He stopped to watch the angry man leave, looking… nervous? What reason did Lan Zhan have to be nervous?
If he wanted a haircut (though he was weeks early), Wei Ying would find time for him, even if it meant staying late. He was just a little bit gone on him.
“Lan Zhan!” he said, with a smile that hopefully didn’t betray just how frazzled he was feeling. “How can I help you?”
Lan Zhan set the basket on the desk. He and Wei Ying stared at each other.
“A gift,” Lan Zhan finally said, nudging the basket a little closer to Wei Ying. Wei Ying took it curiously. Clients who knew him well occasionally brought gifts or tipped extra when holidays drew near, but this was a large basket.
Inside, he found several bags of expensive-looking coffee, in a variety of flavors. Coffee . Wei Ying let out a moan that boardered on obscene, and when he looked up, Lan Zhan’s ears had gone pink.
“Coffee!” Wei Ying explained, picking up a bag and waving it in Lan Zhan’s general direction. “ Coffee , you angel . How did you know?”
“There is always coffee at your station or the desk,” Lan Zhan explained. This was true, Wei Ying tended to attract both disposable and reusable coffee cups like flies to honey, and he could never quite keep his work area clear of them.
“Coffee is a hairstylist’s blood .” Wei YIng said earnestly. Lan Zhan nodded.
“Internet said.”
“You googled appropriate hairstylist gifts?”
The tips of Lan Zhan’s ears turned pink again, followed by his cheeks. Wei Ying felt his own face heat up. For probably the first time ever in his life, he felt tongue tied.
“Merry Christmas,” Lan Zhan said.
“M-merry Christmas,” Wei Ying repeated. “Did you… Were you here for a cut? I can probably squeeze you in.” He couldn’t, but he would find a way. Maybe one of his clients could be persuaded to give Wen Ning a try.
But Lan Zhan shook his head. “Just the gift,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” Wei Ying said, just as soft, and for a moment it seemed they couldn’t look away from each other, until Mianmian nudged him out of the way to check her client out and the moment broke. “Well, I should. Get back to work.”
Lan Zhan nodded, and saw himself out.
After all the clients had left for the day, Mianmian and Wen Qing each took a turn prodding at the basket. “Back off, vultures,” Wei Ying said, shooing them away. “This is all for me.”
Wen Qing hummed thoughtfully. “Alright. I get it now.”
“Get what ?” Wei Ying asked, certain that the answer wasn’t anything he wanted to hear.
“You have our blessing,” Mianmian said.
“Your blessing .”
“To date Lan Zhan,” Wen Ning piped up from over by the shampoo bowls. Wei Ying flushed.
“I am not dating Lan Zhan . Get. Get back to work, we need to clean up or we’ll all suffer in the morning.”
January 18th
Lan Zhan looked grumpy when he came in next. This expression was very similar to his usual one, but Wei Ying could tell the difference.
“Alright,” he said, once Lan Zhan was in his chair. “Spill.”
Lan Zhan blinked at him.
“Whatever it is that’s bothering you. That’s what I’m here for. People call us ‘hair-apists.’”
“No they don’t,” Mianmian said on her way past. Wei Ying pouted at her retreating back.
“Well, they should,” Wei YIng said. “People vent all their problems to us. You should feel free.”
Lan Zhan considered this. “I am… hosting family for the Lunar New Year,” he said. “It is… tense.”
“Judgemental family?” Wei Ying said sympathetically.
“Not judgemental,” Lan Zhan said, though he sounded the same way Wei Ying did when he said his own family was ‘fine, actually.’ “Merely strict. As a child, I found it comforting. As an adult it… chafes.”
Wei Ying hummed knowingly. He knew something about strict families. He loved his foster siblings, but his relationship with their mother left much to be desired, and that in turn strained his relationship with his foster father. “Let me guess… that’s where the long hair came from?” He lifted a dark lock, letting it fall through his fingers.
Lan Zhan nodded. “An act of rebellion. My only. It grew on me.”
“I’ll say it did,” Wei Ying said with a laugh, giving Lan Zhan’s hair a playful tug. He froze, wondering if that was too familiar, but when he caught Lan Zhan’s eye in the mirror he was smiling hesitantly.
“Let me tell you something, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, waving his shears to emphasize his point, “You only get one life. No second chances. No do-overs.”
“Reincarnation?” Lan Zhan suggested.
“I suppose ,” Wei Ying said, “but that will once again feel like the only life you have. You won’t remember this one. So you have to take advantage of life while you’re here. Live it for yourself, not for others.”
“One must always have respect for one’s elders,” Lan Zhan recited.
Wei Ying had a few things to say about respect and how one earned it, but he supposed Lan Zhan wasn’t quite ready for that speech. Instead, he pulled down another layer of Lan Zhan’s hair to cut and considered his words carefully.
“It’s good to show respect for your elders,” he said slowly, “but it’s also important to show respect for yourself. You have to take care of yourself, Lan Zhan, and do things that make you happy.”
Lan Zhan gave this some thought. It was one of the things Wei Ying liked best about him; he never just answered , he always took the time to really think over what Wei Ying said, to take him seriously and give him his utmost attention.
It was enough to make a guy blush, honestly.
“I like my hair,” Lan Zhan finally decided. “And my rabbits.”
“You have bunnies?” Wei Ying said excitedly.
The conversation quickly changed tracks into pet pictures. It wasn’t until later, after Lan Zhan was gone, that Wei Ying had time to worry about him again.
March 15 th
Wei Ying tended to get a little bit mopey in the eight weeks between one haircut and the next. He couldn’t help himself. He missed Lan Zhan, ridiculous as it was to miss someone he only saw for forty minutes every other month.
And it wasn’t like Lan Zhan spoke much, Wei Ying tried to convince himself. But he knew very well that talking is not all there was to communicating . He and Lan Zhan communicated very well. They understood each other. They made each other smile.
Oh, that smile. Just a hint of an upturned corner, nothing more, but it haunted Wei Ying’s dreams. Dreams that were getting progressively filthier, the more he mooned over a man he could not have.
“This is getting pathetic,” Mianmian said, the next time Wei Ying got drunk and started composing odes to Lan Zhan’s hair. “You barely know the guy.”
“I know enough,” Wei Ying protested.
“You know that he’s pretty,” Wen Qing accused. Wei Ying stuck his tongue out at her.
“I know he’s smart, and kind, and a great listener,” Wei Ying protested. “He has two rabbits and an overbearing family he cares about.”
“That’s not a lot," Wen Ning pointed out.
“First dates have been built on less,” Mianmian said, reconsidering.
“I’m not trying to date him,” Wei Ying protested. “I’m just admiring him. Can’t a guy admire in peace?”
“ A guy can,” Mianmian said, “ you cannot. You admire loudly. And often. We have all heard it a dozen times now.”
“It’s true,” Wen Ning said, face twisted up with guilt even as he spoke. “You do talk about him a lot.”
“Traitor!” Wei Ying yelped, pointing dramatically at each of them in turn. “You are all traitors!”
He was still thinking about that the next time Lan Zhan came in for a cut. He couldn’t get Mianmian’s line about ‘first dates’ out of his head. Which was ridiculous. For all he knew, Lan Zhan already had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. He could be straight! Or aromantic! Maybe he wasn’t interested in anyone at all, and Wei Ying had spent the better part of a year mooning over someone who wouldn’t give him the time of day.
Wow. A year . It had been a year of having Lan Zhan in his chair, his hands in Lan Zhan’s beautiful hair. A lot could change in a year. Wen Ning was building up a proper book. Mianmian was talking about getting pregnant. And Lan Zhan talked now.
“Wei Ying.”
“Hmm?” Wei Ying clicked his dryer off, breaking out of his stupor to glance at Lan Zhan in the mirror. Lan Zhan’s brow was furrowed, his eyes narrowed.
“You are alright?” He asked. He sounded genuinely concerned, and Wei Ying’s cheeks flushed with color. Lan Zhan had noticed his distraction, which was embarrassing, but also… somewhat flattering? Lan Zhan paid enough attention to him to know when something was off! Lan Zhan knew him!
“I was just thinking about how it’s been a year since your first cut,” Wei Ying chirped. “We’ve known each other for an entire year, Lan Zhan!”
Lan Zhan’s brow smoothed out, and his small, secretive smile stole across his face. “A year,” he repeated.
“Feels like just yesterday I was meeting you for the first time. You know, I was positive you hated me that first visit?”
A flash of alarm overtook Lan Zhan’s features. “I did not ,” he said firmly.
Wei Ying laughed and waved off the concern. “Yeah, I know that now . You’re just a quiet kind of guy. But I didn’t know it then , and until you came back for another cut, I couldn’t be sure you’d liked the first one.”
Lan Zhan reached up and grabbed Wei Ying’s wrist. Wei Ying’s breath caught in his throat, and he went very still.
“Always like Wei Ying’s haircuts,” He said, in a slow and steady tone that left no room for arguments. The tips of his ears were pink, and Wei Ying could feel warmth building in his own cheeks.
“G-good,” Wei Ying said. “I want you to like them. I want you to be happy.” It bordered on too honest, too revealing. Wei Ying cleared his throat and gently freed his wrist from Lan Zhan’s grasp. “Let’s get you styled.”
Afterwards, Wei Ying went right ahead and rebooked Lan Zhan, no longer needing to ask what dates he’d prefer. Lan Zhan liked eight weeks on the dot, not a day more or less.
“So I’ll see you again May—Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying yelped, as the credit card machine finished processing and the final details popped up on his screen.
Lan Zhan had tipped 100%.
“For you,” he said, when Wei Ying gaped at him.
“Yeah, I got that,” Wei Ying said, “but you really don’t have to—what you usually left was fine—”
“Anniversary present,” Lan Zhan said, stealing all of Wei Ying’s words.
“I. I.”
Lan Zhan wasn’t real. He was something Wei Ying had dreamed up, and any minute now, he was going to wake up. Wei Ying wanted him. So much it ached .
“Thank you?” Wei Ying squeaked.
If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought Lan Zhan was smirking as he turned away.
April 5 th
Wei Ying loved children. He’d done Jingyi’s very first haircut, back in the first salon he’d worked in. Jingyi had been a tiny, wide-eyed toddler, squirming and crying in absolute terror. They’d needed to take several breaks, during which Wei Ying had tried everything to settle him, even letting Jingyi spray him with the spray bottle and messily comb Wei Ying’s hair.
Now, Jingyi was five years old. Five. Nearly six! Where had the time gone?
“Excellent as always, Wei Ying,” Jingyi’s mother said, folding a handful of bills into Wei Ying’s palm. Wei Ying was still grinning when they left, his entire day brightened just by having Jingyi in his chair. He knew a lot of his peers didn’t care for kids cuts, but Wei Ying lived for them.
“Wei Ying?” Wen Ning said, after the door had closed. “Uh, Lan Zhan called while you were busy.”
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying yelped. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, was he okay? Was something wrong with his cut?”
God, if, after all this time, he’d mangled Lan Zhan’s hair in his heart-eyed distraction, Wei Ying was going to be mortified .
“He sounded a little… off?” Wen Ning offered up. He clearly wasn’t as used to picking out Lan Zhan’s moods as Wei Ying was. “He wanted to try and squeeze in a color appointment today, I put him in after Mr. Zhao.”
Wei Ying stopped tapping his fingers on the table, frowning. “Color? Lan Zhan?”
“I double checked,” Wen Ning said. “And triple checked. And uh, might have asked him if he was absolutely sure. He, uh, sounded a little less patient at that point.”
Wei Ying tapped at the computer screen, pulling up the schedule. Lan Zhan was the last appointment of the day, a two and a half hour block for a long hair color. Wei Ying tapped the appointment, as if Lan Zhan’s client history was going to in any way clear up this mystery.
He was just going to have to wait a few hours and ask Lan Zhan when he came in. God, it was going to be a long day.
Wei Ying barely held on through his next few clients. His thoughts kept drifting back to Lan Zhan, and his mysterious color appointment. It could have been anything. Really, they should have had a consultation first before booking, to make sure they had enough time, but he couldn’t blame Wen Ning for immediately putting Lan Zhan on the books. Lan Zhan wasn’t the type to have a fit if told his goal was unrealistic for the booked session.
Of course, Wei Ying couldn’t imagine Lan Zhan wanting anything too complicated or time consuming. He couldn’t imagine Lan Zhan wanting any color at all! His mind hit a wall, his mental image completely blank. No matter how he tried, the picture stayed fuzzy and indescribable.
Finally, finally , the last of Wei Ying’s clients were out the door, and he could wait nervously at the desk for Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan swooped in at five thirty on the dot, not a minute late. He seemed to be doing his best to give himself as many frown lines as he could before thirty. Just looking at him was giving Wei Ying a headache. Wei Ying ushered him into his chair, taking his bag for him and setting it aside.
“Okay, what happened?” He asked, hands on his hips. Lan Zhan blinked with him, and Wei Ying shook his head. “Oh no you don’t. You booked an emergency last-minute color appointment. You . The only reason a guy like you decides to make a drastic change that quickly is if something happens.”
Lan Zhan blinked again, and then sank back in Wei Ying’s chair like all his strings had been cut. “My uncle and brother visited. They expressed… concerns, about certain aspects of my life.”
“They were nosy and judgemental,” Wei Ying summed up, anger on Lan Zhan’s behalf bubbling up.
“Brother is never judgemental,” Lan Zhan insisted. Wei Ying noticed he didn’t mention his uncle at all. “But he had several concerns about… about aspects of my life I would have preferred not to have debated.”
Nosy , Wei Ying repeated in his own head.
“When I came out, my family had plenty to say,” he said sympathetically. It had mostly been Yu Ziyuan, but Jiang Fengmian had had his insensitive moments. Shijie had been great, but Shijie was always a blessing. “It can be really frustrating when people you care about can’t just let you live your life,” he said. Lan Zhan nodded.
“I believe it is time to ‘respect myself,’” he told Wei Ying. “Another act of rebellion.”
“So, color,” Wei Ying said with a nod. “What were you thinking? Dramatic or subtle?”
Lan Zhan reached up and gently tugged on the red lock of hair perpetually falling free of Wei Ying’s bun. “We could match,” he said, mimicking something Wei Ying had teased him about months ago.
It was only fair, after all the teasing and tugging Wei Ying had done over the past year, but Wei Ying found himself blushing anyway.
“We could,” he said, straightening up to properly examine Lan Zhan’s hair and features. “Or we could complement each other instead. I don’t think red is really your color. Ooh, what about an icy blue? I think I have one in our vivids.”
Lan Zhan hummed, running his hands through his hair. He nodded, tugging at the lock beside his face with just a bit of hesitation.
Wei Ying was well primed to be looking out for hesitation, though, so he caught it immediately. “Hey, Lan Zhan. You’ve never had color, right?”
Lan Zhan shook his head.
“Thought so. Well, what if we did some baby steps for your first time, huh?”
“Baby steps?” Lan Zhan repeated doubtfully.
“Don’t worry,” Wei Ying assured him. “It’ll still be vivid and noticeable. But we can do a peek-a-boo, something that you can hide or show off as you wish.”
Lan Zhan looked confused. Wei Ying gently separated a lock of his hair from the rest, strands that started just behind his ear. “Here. You could wear it over your shoulder when you wanted to show it off, or hide it in with the rest of your hair if you had to look like Mister Professional Businessman.”
It was clear that Lan Zhan had not considered this, or perhaps he had decided that all his coworkers could simply deal with his newfound individuality. It was a common theme among Wei Ying’s drastic change clients. When you’d had a break up, or gotten fired, or had a fight with your family, the anger ran white-hot and you tended to think ‘fuck responsibility, I want cool hair.’
It was a sentiment Wei Ying could get on board with, but he was protective of Lan Zhan. If he could give him cool hair and peace of mind, he would.
Lan Zhan took the hair from Wei Ying, tugging it to feel where it started, and then nodded. “Blue,” he said. Wei Ying clapped his hands together, finally allowing excitement to overtake him.
“This is going to be fun ,” He said.
It only took a few minutes to pin up all of Lan Zhan’s hair beyond a square inch behind his ear, and then seal that hair up in three foils so the lightener would process faster. Wei Ying could take walk-ins while they waited, but he let Wen Ning take them instead, sitting with Lan Zhan. They talked, or Wei Ying did, with occasional hums from Lan Zhan, or small interjections. Each one made Wei Ying smile, thrilled to have befriended Lan Zhan enough to earn his words.
Dark hair was a lot harder to get to the pale yellow Wei Ying would prefer, so they ended up lightening the section one more time, with a lower volume of developer to preserve the hair’s integrity. After, they foiled the section for twenty minutes with an icy blue temporary color.
“Now, this will fade,” Wei Ying explained as he gave Lan Zhan’s hair a final good scrub. “But if you use a good color-safe shampoo and wash it in cool water, you should get at least eight to twelve weeks of vibrancy, depending on how often you wash your hair. So we can just add touch ups to your usual appointments and you should be fine.”
He kept Lan Zhan’s back to the mirror as he dried his hair, so as not to ruin the surprise. After, he turned him with all of his hair behind his shoulders, the strip of color almost completely hidden.
“Here we go,” Wei Ying said, tugging the lock free and over Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “What do you think?”
Lan Zhan smiled.
May 10 th
Lan Zhan’s color was still in decent condition when he came back for his usual trim, but Wei Ying refreshed it anyway.
“So you liked it, then?”
“I have liked everything Wei Ying has done,” Lan Zhan said, and Wei Ying had to pretend to be busy mixing the color (which did not need to be mixed) to hide his bashful grin.
After Lan Zhan left, Wen Qing came up to Wei Ying, staring pointedly.
“What?” Wei Ying asked, defensive.
She rolled her eyes and huffed, which was Wen Qing speak for ‘you are the biggest idiot I have ever met, Wei Ying, and one day I am going to stage a coup and take over the salon.’
“ What?” Wei Ying asked again.
“When are you going to ask him out?” Mianmian called from across the room. Her client, who looked as if she wished she had some popcorn to munch, nodded in agreement.
“Never!” Wei Ying spluttered. “He’s a client! You two are the ones who told me I couldn’t ask out clients!”
“That was then,” Wen Qing said. “Lan Zhan is different. He’s only seen you a handful of times and he’s still in love with you.”
Wei Ying choked on air. “Lan Zhan is not in love with me,” he protested. Mianmian and her client both groaned, and Wei Ying shot them a dirty look.
“He’s here every eight weeks like clockwork to moon over you,” Wen Qing said.
“He’s here every eight weeks like clockwork to get his hair done ,” Wei Ying insisted.
“He dyed his hair to match yours.”
“Only because he didn’t have any other examples to go with.”
“The man has a smart phone. He had access to all of Google.”
Wei Ying leaned against the desk, his heart pounding. “This is ridiculous,” he said weakly.
“He bought you an entire basket of exotic coffee for Christmas,” Wen Ning pointed out. His sister gave him an encouraging nod. “And there was that thing with the anniversary gift.”
Wei Ying turned bright red. He knew he shouldn’t have told any of them about that. They were getting the wrong idea.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “I admit that stuff looks suspicious. But it’s all just coincidence! It’s just Lan Zhan being a nice guy.”
“ Wen Ning is a nice guy,” Mianmian said, causing the man to blush. “ Lan Zhan is a man with a crush.”
“And what if you’re wrong?” Wei Ying challenged. “What if you’re wrong, and I ask him out, and it creeps him out because the hair salon is a safe space that I’ve ruined along with our friendship?”
“So you admit he’s not just a client,” Wen Qing said shrewdly. Wei Ying threw his hands up in the air.
“You are all impossible,” he said. “Lan Zhan is not in love with me. I am not asking out a client. As your boss, I am forbidding this conversation.”
It was rare he put his foot down, as store owner. Wen Qing looked entirely unimpressed, as did Mianmian. Only Wen Ning looked a little shame-faced, and that was because he had not yet figured out that Wei Ying had zero power over any of them. He was, at the end of the day, a pushover when it came to his friends.
July 5th
The thing was, once he’d started thinking about it, he couldn’t stop . Lan Zhan was in his every thought. Lan Zhan, head tilted back at the shampoo bowl, face completely and utterly relaxed as Wei Ying massaged his scalp. Lan Zhan, smiling in his chair as Wei Ying went on and on about something completely ridiculous in his life. Lan Zhan, putting a blue streak in his hair because he wanted to complement Wei Ying.
How did you fall in love with someone you’d spent less than a dozen hours with, total? Forty minute sessions every week, mostly silent on Lan Zhan’s behalf, then longer sessions, slightly less silent. Lan Zhan had opened up to him, little by little. Maybe not as much as some of his clients, who would chatter on and on about affairs they’d had and this or that problem with their spouse or their child or their mother.
But for Lan Zhan? This was open. This was wide open, bearing his pages for Wei Ying to read. And Wei Ying wanted to absorb every word, to rifle through Lan Zhan until he knew all of him.
This was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. He was the worst sort of person, the sort who read far too much into forced politeness and social graces. Wei Ying would fire himself if he was a client. He had kicked out people who’d been too creepy with Wen Qing or Mianmian.
He called his brother, and his brother told him he was an idiot, which was exactly what he’d wanted to be told. He called Shijie, who offered him sympathy and gently suggested he share his feelings, which is exactly what he hadn’t wanted to be told.
Or maybe he had, since he had to know exactly what she would say. Maybe he’d called Shijie to use her as an excuse to do exactly what he wanted to do.
Shijie’s words echoed in his head, when Lan Zhan returned for his next color and cut. Wei Ying had to bleach the regrowth at the top of the streak, this time, which meant Lan Zhan was in his chair for longer. More time with Lan Zhan. More time to stare at him, more time to talk to him and think about him.
It was while he was rinsing the blue dye out of Lan Zhan’s hair that Wei Ying slipped up.
“God, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” It just sort of came out. Wei Ying was used to speaking every single thought that crossed his mind, and unused to censoring himself. Lan Zhan was just so damn beautiful , laying there, putting all his trust in Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan jolted, alarmed, and knocked the hose out of Wei Ying’s hand. It sprayed water in an arc above them both, splashing down on Lan Zhan’s face and making him splutter. Wei Ying hastened to turn the water off, face red.
“Oh my god, Lan Zhan, I’m so sorry,” he said, patting gingerly at Lan Zhan’s face with a towel. Half out of the bowl and half in it, Lan Zhan reached up to grip Wei Ying’s wrist tightly.
“Wei Ying,” he said, eyes open, pinning Wei Ying in place with the force of his stare. Oh, Wei Ying had done it now. Too late to turn back.
Wei Ying did what he always did when caught out and nervous, and began to talk . “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he insisted. “It’s just that you might not want to, when you know.”
“When I know,” Lan Zhan repeated doubtfully. Wei Ying attempted to guide him back into the bowl, but Lan Zhan resisted, sitting up fully, wet hair spilling down his back, past the cape to press against his button-down shirt.
“Oh, no, Lan Zhan, your clothes--”
“When I know what, Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying bit down hard on his lower lip, shaking his head. “Forget I said anything,” he insisted. “Just let it slip away. It’s just me being ridiculous. Ridiculous Wei Ying, that should be my full name! Everybody always says I talk too much, anyway, you can’t listen to half of what I say. I--”
“Wei Ying.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes were narrowed, focused. Wei Ying felt the full weight of his attention, and even now, he wanted to preen under it. He really was hopeless.
“I’m a little bit in love with you,” he said helplessly. Lan Zhan’s eyes went very wide, and his lips parted around words that didn’t come. Wei Ying barrelled forward, unable to stop now that the words were out. “I like you, I fancy you, I want--” Wei Ying stopped himself from saying ‘I want to sleep with you’ at work, but it was a very near miss. “I want to spend time with you,” he finished.
Something in Lan Zhan’s gaze shifted. Wei Ying did not allow himself to interpret it.
“I look forward to every appointment and I spent eight weeks missing you in between. I want to date you. I want to see you every day. And I’m sorry, it’s so inappropriate and unprofessional of me to do this to you, you probably think I’m--”
Hair dripping down his back and leaving a puddle on the floor, Lan Zhan cupped Wei Ying’s face in his hands and kissed him. Across the room, someone, probably Mianmian, let out a sharp whistle.
Kissing Lan Zhan was exactly as Wei Ying had imagined it would be. He sank into it, hands coming up to brace on Lan Zhan’s shoulders. Lan Zhan licked his way into Wei YIng’s mouth, and Wei Ying felt a shudder roll down his spine.
“Every day,” Lan Zhan murmured against his lips. “I want to see you every day too.”
On her way to the back room, Wen Qing stopped to give Wei Ying’s ponytail a sharp tug, yanking him away from Lan Zhan’s warm and welcoming grasp.
“You are at work ,” she hissed. “Clock out before you start making out like teenagers.”
Wei Ying’s face was hot. Lan Zhan’s ears were bright pink.
Both of them were grinning, properly grinning, wider than he’d ever seen Lan Zhan smile before.
“We should get you dried,” Wei Ying said. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”
November 12th
Wei Ying loved cutting a fade. There was something soothing about using his clippers to blend out any lines, leaving his client with a smooth, close-shaven look.
“How can we help you?” Wen Ning said from the front. Normally, Wei Ying would tune out the noises of the shop as he worked, but he sounded so confused that Wei Ying couldn’t help but look up. When he did, a ridiculous smile spread wide across his face.
“I would like a shampoo and dry,” Lan Zhan said, smiling back at Wei Ying with his perfect subdued expression on his perfect beautiful face. “With him,” he added, nodding towards Wei Ying.
“You know I’ll massage your scalp at home for free?” Wei Ying called across the shop. “I’m busy, I’ve got another cut after this.”
Lan Zhan settled into his chair, pulling his laptop out. “Will wait for Wei Ying,” he said.
Wei Ying ducked his head to hide his pleased blush, and got back to work.