Chapter Text
On their first anniversary, Lan Zhan took Wei Ying up onto a roof in college to watch the stars. They snuggled under a blanket in the cold. Lan Zhan gave Wei Ying a sterling silver ring he bought for twenty-three quid from a stall in the covered market. Wei Ying gave him a portrait he’d sketched of him. Lan Zhan stared at it. He didn’t think anyone had seen or understood him like that before. He took Wei Ying’s hand and looked at him. Wei Ying pulled him in close and they fucked under the blanket. Right there on the roof.
---
In the summer holidays, before the start of the first term of their final year, Lan Zhan gave in to pressure from his uncle and bought a flat in Jericho. He assumed Wei Ying would come with him, but Wei Ying insisted he wanted to stay in a room share in college.
Lan Zhan understood his decision in theory, but his heart resisted. He wanted to beg Wei Ying to change his mind every day. He was familiar with not saying what he thought, but he wasn’t used to holding back from Wei Ying. He never did that normally. Not from him. He squeezed his lips tightly together against the words, jaw locked down. He started grinding his teeth at night and he went to the dentist to get a mouth guard. He didn’t mention it to Wei Ying, and didn’t wear it when he was staying over. So he barely wore it. His jaw ached.
One early December evening, Lan Zhan found one of Wei Ying’s T-shirts mixed into his dirty washing and he felt his eyes well up. He brought it to his face, without thinking, to breathe in the smell. Ridiculous. The boy himself was sitting in the next room, reading about Gaugin. He thought of how they always used to share their clothes. Now they had separate clothes again, separate laundry. He brushed his eyes roughly, raised his voice so Wei Ying could hear him.
“I’m putting a toothbrush in the bathroom for you. It’s going to be your toothbrush.” He said. He went into the bathroom and pulled a spare toothbrush out of the cupboard, ripping it out almost frantically. “It’s the pink one, OK?” Wei Ying liked pink. He had a whole set of thoughts about the different shades that changed constantly, and Lan Zhan loved to listen to him talk about it.
“I’m fine bringing mine back and forth.”
“Mn.” Wangji stood in the doorway to the living room.
Wei Ying looked up at him, took his glasses off his head and put them on to see him properly, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you OK, babe?” He asked.
This is your home . Wangji wanted to tell him. You’re my home . He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He wanted to tell him he didn’t care about money, and ownership, and fairness. He just cared about Wei Ying. He just wanted him. But it would start THAT conversation. The conversation they always avoided. About how Lan Zhan didn’t care about those things because he didn’t need to. And Lan Zhan understood. And he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about it because it made his beautiful animated warm Wei Ying go stilted and cold and distant. He didn’t want to talk about it because he didn’t want to even think about a place where Wei Ying couldn’t transcend these things because he didn’t love him enough. Lan Zhan didn’t know if Wei Ying ever could love him enough. Not enough for him anyway. Not enough to match what he felt. He didn’t say any of this.
“Mn.” He said. And moved into the kitchen to start making dinner.
He preferred it when they stayed in Wei Ying’s room at college. He woke in the night to a feeling of comfort in the tiny bed, surrounded by brown walls and flooded with the memories of their first two years together. Cosy and safe in their crappy little room they shared. Their own microcosm. Then the inevitable spikes of guilt and worry poked and stabbed into his chest, needling away and making him feel airless. He had been such a fool to change things. Popping the bubble. He’d never been as happy in his life than he was then. And now he wasn’t. Now they weren’t.
However, it was difficult for them to eject Wei Ying’s long suffering room-mate too often, and so Lan Zhan booked them a night in the most elegant hotel in Oxford for their second anniversary, hoping that just for one night, Wei Ying would allow him to spoil him rotten. He was prepared to have a fight about it. But in the end Wei Ying just seemed excited.
Lan Zhan looked at his beautiful boyfriend, who was performatively sucking on a piece of lime from his drink, which he one hundred percent knew would be going straight to Lan Zhan’s dick. He loved him. Wei Ying had been wiggling around even more than usual since he sat down which somehow made him even more adorable. Lan Zhan pulled out the box from his pocket. His anniversary present, and pushed it across the table to Wei Ying. He was surprised, for a moment, to note Wei Ying’s expression of utter shock, until he did some quick calculations in his head.
“Oh my god. It’s not -.” He waved a hand. Oh shit. Fuck.
Wei Ying’s face unfroze and he laughed unnaturally. “God. God. I know. Oh man, Lan Zhan, obviously I know.” He took a breath in. “Your face. Oh my goodness.”
“Not -, that I wouldn’t -, I just -” but he had no fucking clue what he was trying to say here. “Open it?” He asked quietly.
Wei Ying picked up the box, and Lan Zhan was gratified to see a soft smile forming as he opened it. In the box was a key ring shaped like a heart. It was exceedingly expensive, and he hoped Wei Ying wouldn’t guess that.
“I know you’ve had my keys for ages. But I thought it would be nice.” As he looked at Wei Ying, looking at his present, he realised his smile was a little tight. He realised how thinly he had disguised his hopes. How he had unintentionally pressured Wei Ying about an issue he knew he was firm about. He’d got it so wrong. He didn’t know what to say. He just looked down into his sashimi, ashamed.
“I love it.” Wei Ying said, passing him over a tissue wrapped bag.
Inside was a shirt. Lan Zhan smiled, turning it over a couple of times, expecting to find - something. He didn’t know. But it was just a shirt. He looked up at Wei Ying, eyes helpless. His expression management had gone through the window. “Thank you.”
“You hate it.” Wei Ying’s shoulders slumped.
“No.” Lan Zhan said, “I don’t.” But his ribs clenched and his heart sank.
“I didn’t know what to get -. What you get someone -, who has -.” He trailed off.
Who has what? Lan Zhan wanted to yell at him. Shake him. Shout ‘who has what?’ into his face. But he didn’t. He just looked back.
“Lan Zhan. Can we just fuck now?”
Lan Zhan’s heart confusion never got close to impacting on his libido, ever, somehow, and he stood up immediately, in really every sense of the word. He took Wei Ying’s hand, and pulled him up from his seat. Wei Ying dropped his napkin and allowed himself to be virtually dragged to the lifts. Lan Zhan didn’t care who saw and what they thought. He wanted them to know what he was going to do to him. He wanted it to be obvious for the world to see.
He pressed Wei Ying up against the wall of the lift, enjoying the feel of him arching, leaning his head back. Lan Zhan leaned in to bite his neck, harder than he intended, then licked a stripe over his own teeth marks. As the doors pinged open on their floor, he looked up to see himself in the mirror, eyes red, face angry. And he knew he wanted to punish Wei Ying for his shirt and he was going to enjoy doing it.
Lan Zhan turned Wei Ying around and walked him towards their room, gripping his arms tightly by his sides, and pushing him forward, Wei Ying laughing quietly. As the door banged shut behind them he pressed him up against the wall. He leaned hard against him, breathing out heavily against his neck, not letting him go. Not yet.
Lan Zhan spoke quietly next to Wei Ying’s ear. “Tell me you’re mine.” He whispered.
Wei Ying, whose head had been twisted sideways, turned around on his forehead to speak against the wall, voice muffled. “I’m yours.”
Lan Zhan released him. Stood back to look at him. Wei Ying was panting, shaking a little. Lan Zhan reached gently around to undo the button of Wei Ying’s jeans, and push the zip down slowly. He slid his hands up to pull the trousers down Wei Ying’s legs, then up again to do the same with his boxers. Wei Ying stepped out of them and kicked them sideways.
“That’s good.” Lan Zhan said. “You’re good.” Wei Ying raised his arms as Lan Zhan pulled his T-shirt over his head.
He pressed himself, still fully clothed, up against Wei Ying’s arse, and Wei Ying pushed back against him, firmly. Lan Zhan, palms tingling, leaned around and took Wei Ying’s dick in hand, its silkiness, its hardness, giving him achingly familiar thrills.
Wei Ying responded with a moan that sounded too close to the end of this for Lan Zhan’s liking. “What’s different today?” He said. It took a moment to realise he’d asked out loud, when Wei Ying took his hand gently away from his cock and moved it round to the swell of his butt.
“Ah.” Lan Zhan said. “My good boy. My creative boy.” He slipped his fingers lightly between Wei Ying’s cheeks to find what he was expecting. He tugged lightly on the plug, pulling it out gently, wet with lube, then forcing it back in at a calculated angle, waiting a moment, then flicking on it.
Wei Ying shouted, then turned his head, breathing fast. “This is your real present.”
Lan Zhan felt a humming in his ears. He squeezed Wei Ying’s arse cheeks in his hands, tight, hard. Then he ground the plug, before yanking it out roughly and throwing it on the floor, pleased to hear Wei Ying groan weakly. He undid his trousers, and pulled himself out of his underwear. He spat on his hand and made a cursory sweep of his dick before pushing himself slowly into Wei Ying. At this point he knew exactly what Wei Ying could take. Exactly what he would want and when. And he was going to give as much as he could.
When his hips pressed neatly to Wei Ying’s arse, he circled around to get even deeper. He could never be far enough inside. Wei Ying put his elbows against the wall and leant his head against his arms, pushing his butt out, wiggling a little. Then Lan Zhan started to shove himself in at a punishing pace, Wei Ying’s moans were so loud he felt sure everyone on the whole floor would hear. Let them. He put a hand softly against Wei Ying’s right arsecheek and squeezed. He pulled his hand away and brought it back sharply with a slap, to a yelp from Wei Ying.
“Ah fuck.” Wei Ying yelled. “More.”
As he rammed himself in again and again, pushing Wei Ying further and further towards the wall, he brought his hand back repeatedly, in exactly the same spot, aiming for just the right amount of redness, the right amount of heat, that Wei Ying loved to feel when they’d finished.
Lan Zhan was frenzied, close now, and Wei Ying was beginning to wilt further towards the wall. Lan Zhan took his hips firmly, to pull them back, and reached around to stroke his cock. As Lan Zhan pulsed into Wei Ying, he felt his hand go limp, and Wei Ying took over, jerking himself furiously until he spurted against the hotel wall, almost crying. Lan Zhan shuddered as he felt the clench around his softening, sensitive dick.
They collapsed slowly, in increments, making their way down to the floor, Wei Ying turning to prop himself against the wall, Lan Zhan moving to lie on his back and look up at him.
Wei Ying, wet-eyed, was laughing to himself. In the dim hotel room, lit only by a streetlight outside, he was very, very pretty. Eyes all stars.
“Fuck you, Lan Zhan. My butt hurts.” He shifted over to lie down next to Lan Zhan. Also on his back, Wei Ying spoke to the ceiling, shaking his head. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?” Lan Zhan asked.
Wei Ying turned his head to look at him, and Lan Zhan looked back. “Like this.” Was all he said, smiling his fullest smile.
Lan Zhan frowned back at him. He didn’t know how to say, I’m not like this with anybody else .
---
After early morning blow jobs in the shower, Lan Zhan went down to the reception desk while they were waiting for room service, to borrow a marker pen. Upstairs, he took the shirt out of the packet, and wrote ‘Wei Ying’s bitch’ on the back of it. Wei Ying laughed so much he almost squirted orange juice out of his nose, or so he claimed afterwards. That was exactly what Lan Zhan had intended.
He wore it for the whole day, wandering around Oxford, by the river, in college. No one paid them any special attention.
---
It was summer term and finals season before they knew it. Wei Ying’s exams were spread evenly out through May and early June. Some were full, long days drawing, and Lan Zhan missed him terribly. Wei Ying finished before Lan Zhan even started. Lan Zhan’s were all crammed into one intense week almost at the end of term. Wei Ying insisted he would wait to celebrate, and came over to Lan Zhan’s flat to help him revise. He was the perfect company. He made sure Lan Zhan had everything he needed while he worked, and tested him when he asked.
On Sunday night before his first exam, Lan Zhan thought he might be going mad. He felt Wei Ying come up behind him where he was sitting, tense in his desk chair. He squeezed his thumbs into his shoulder blades, ran his hands from his neck, over his shoulders and down his arms.
“Babe. You know everything.” He said. “You can’t possibly know any more.”
Lan Zhan let his head fall forward until it rested on his notes, letting out a long breath. Wei Ying rubbed his back. Lan Zhan let Wei Ying take him by the hand, pull him up and lead him to the bathroom, where they went through the paces of getting ready for bed. He let Wei Ying take off his clothes, but stopped him when he passed Lan Zhan his PJs. He pushed them onto the floor and got into bed, waiting for Wei Ying to join him, also naked.
They lay side by side on their backs, staring at the ceiling.
“What do you need?” Asked Wei Ying. Because he was perfect.
Lan Zhan shielded his eyes with his hands. The room was too bright even in the dark. “I need you inside me.” He said quietly.
He felt Wei Ying turn towards him, lean over him, so gently. He lifted his hand to look at him. Wei Ying put a hand to his cheek, eyebrows raised. “Really?” He asked.
Lan Zhan could understand his doubt. He could count the times they’d switched on the fingers of one hand. He thought the last time they did it was when they were still using condoms, but he couldn’t remember.
Lan Zhan opened his eyes fully and nodded at him.
Wei Ying let out a deep breath, as if he’d been holding it for a while. He took his hand away from Lan Zhan’s face, smoothed it down his belly, palmed his hardening dick, and started to smooth one finger underneath, between his cheeks. Lan Zhan held him by the wrist to stop him.
“Just you.” He said.
Wei Ying shuddered. “You don’t mean it.” He said, smiling.
“I do.” Lan Zhan said. He waited while Wei Ying rolled over to get some lube, and watched as he took his sweet time slathering it all over his cock. Wei Ying propped himself up on his elbow and reached his hand down between Lan Zhan’s legs. Lan Zhan grabbed his wrist.
“Just you.” He said. Firmly this time.
Wei Ying breathed out. “OK.” He whispered.
He moved to straddle Lan Zhan. “This OK?” He asked. He was gentle.
Lan Zhan nodded. Then he leant his head back over the pillow, his focus on the wall behind them, shifting his hips up. He didn’t want to think anymore.
He felt Wei Ying shift over him. He pushed his legs wider, slid his beautiful hands under Lan Zhan’s arse cheeks, squeezing them, gently prising them apart. Lan Zhan’s body moved under him as Wei Ying moved on the bed on his knees, further towards him. When the press of the tip of his cock against his hole came, Lan Zhan gasped.
“Please.” He told Wei Ying.
Wei Ying gripped his arse cheeks tighter in response, pressed in harder.
There was a moment when Lan Zhan thought that would be it. That his body simply wouldn’t take the intrusion at this time. And then Wei Ying leaned over to kiss his belly, hair brushing his chest, his hips, somehow everywhere. And as he pulled up to press in further, hot breath against Lan Zhan, he felt everything relax, give way. The tightness as Wei Ying slowly slid in, little by little, was painful but delicious, and Lan Zhan didn’t even know what noises he was making with it.
He felt Wei Ying pause, perhaps trying to compose himself.
“Don’t.” Lan Zhan choked out. “Please.”
So Wei Ying moved in him and Lan Zhan was lost to just that feeling, the sensations so strong that his mind was finally at rest in a way it hadn’t been for weeks. Wei Ying fucked into him a steady pace, until Lan Zhan felt like he was floating. He was surprised back into his body when Wei Ying came with a long shout. Lan Zhan took himself in hand. The feeling of Wei Ying coming deep inside him. His face. It was enough to send him over the edge only a few moments after. He lay, heart pounding, for some time after, barely noticing Wei Ying moving around him.
Lan Zhan woke in the early hours, surprised to find himself the little spoon. For a moment he felt supreme contentment. A glow that started in the middle of his body and spread through the whole of him. Like Wei Ying’s sun was shining in the middle of him. Then his mind was buzzing again. He rolled his shoulders, shifted a little to push himself back into Wei Ying’s safe, curling cocoon around him. He didn’t want to disturb him but he didn’t want not to either.
Wei Ying stirred. He yawned and took his arm away from around Lan Zhan to stroke his hair. Lan Zhan could hear sleep drunkenness in his voice as he said. “You OK, baby? You need some more?”
Lan Zhan just nodded, and Wei Ying fucked him again, where they were, slowly and gently, soothing Lan Zhan’s chaotic mind, and losing him once again only to pleasure.
---
Wei Ying dropped the first bomb on the day of Lan Zhan’s last exam, which was the day before term ended. In the pub, after he’d finished. Like his cohort around him, Lan Zhan was still in sub fusc., littered with silly string, streamers and a rainbow of confetti. Unlike the others, he was no longer in a celebrating mood. He turned, blank, to look around him, wishing he could have back that feeling of unfettered joy. Just for a few minutes longer.
“You’re what?” He said, stupidly, to Wei Ying.
“It’s the sort of internship I really can’t turn down. It opens up the possibility of curatorship for me in a real way.”
“But -.” Lan Zhan swallowed. “The Verona. In Italy?”
Wei Ying looked down, pushed his hands through his hair. “Yes, Lan Zhan. The Verona in Italy.”
Wangji didn’t understand why he sounded angry. He just needed some time. “It’s OK -.” He tried.
Wei Ying interrupted. “I’m sorry I’m telling you now. I didn’t mean to shit on your parade. It’s just - I couldn’t tell you before because of your finals.”
“How long have you known?” He said, incredulous. He couldn’t help himself.
“A few weeks.” Wei Ying leaned back and rolled his head. “I’m sorry. Wangji. I’m sorry.”
“It’s -” Wangji started. Then he realised he didn’t know if Wei Ying had already told him. “When are you going?”
Wei Ying frowned, brows furrowed. He sighed deeply. “Two weeks.”
Lan Zhan’s mouth dropped open. This was even before he was leaving for Shanghai. Wei Ying would have too much to do for them to be able to see much of each other before he went. They hadn’t planned that they would. He made himself look into Wei Ying’s eyes. He had to chase his gaze around as it flittered all over the place. But he held it until it steadied. Wei Ying looked as miserable as he’d seen him in a while. He reached across the table and held both his hands in his.
“It’s OK. Wei Ying. This is a wonderful opportunity for you. We’ll figure things out.” He forced himself to smile. “We love each other.” He explained. “It’s going to be OK.”