Work Text:
Zhuzhi-lang stares down at his boots and notices a scuff mark on the toe of the left one.
Hmph. Annoying. He tries to use the heel of his right shoe to rub it out, but all that achieves is smudging more dirt on the dark leather. Zhuzhi-lang frowns and forces his gaze away, knowing it would bother him endlessly if he kept staring at the issue.
He looks up in time to see that he’s next in line, so he steps forward and adjusts his headphones, feeling them slip a little. Without waiting for a signal from the barista that he was ready, Zhuzhi-lang recites his order— a medium green tea with a touch of honey. His order never changes, so he doesn't need to wait to be told the price before he’s handing over a bill. Before he can step away he sees the barista saying something to him, trying to get his attention.
Zhuzhi-lang frowns. “What?” This wasn’t part of the routine and he feels thrown off. The barista says something again, smiling and pointing at his face. Zhuzhi-lang sighs and takes his headphones off, nearly getting a migraine at the sudden influx of noise.
“What?” He asks again. His eyes flit over the form of the barista, taking him in. He has dark hair tied up in a ponytail without a lock out of place, sleeves perfectly cuffed, and a clean-cut air that verges on unrealistic. He reminds Zhuzhi-lang of the protagonists in Tianlang-jun’s dramas whose appearances were signaled by slow-mo pans, showing off their perfect teeth and sparkling eyes.
Zhuzhi-lang tries his best not to sneer. How annoying.
“I like your piercings!” The barista repeats, pointing at his own mouth, lit up with a broad smile. “They’re cool.”
Zhuzhi-lang immediately sucks the snake bites into his mouth, a self-conscious tic he still hadn’t grown out of whenever he was surprised or uncomfortable. Was this guy making fun of him?
“Thanks,” he manages to get out after an awkward pause, hearing his uncle’s nagging voice in his head about needing to be polite — even to preppy boys who made his skin crawl with their looks. He tries to shove the money towards the barista again, wanting to end this interaction as quickly as possible.
The boy doesn’t push, taking the money, ringing Zhuzhi-lang up, and handing back the change with another smile. Zhuzhi-lang shoves the coins into his coat pocket and goes to stand by the pick up area, headphones back on. He pulls out his phone and checks the time. His uncle will still be at his book club meeting upstairs for another forty-five minutes, though Zhuzhi-lang recalls times when his uncle had been late to meet him on more than one occasion. His uncle usually liked to get caught up in discussing bedroom scenes that seemed anatomically improbable or the need for more pet name use between characters. Zhuzhi-lang is happy that his uncle could share his hobbies with others, even if the topics made his ears nearly melt off with how hot they got.
A cup appears in front of him on the counter and Zhuzhi-lang’s gaze catches the name tag. Gongyi Xiao. Zhuzhi-lang does not stick around for another “compliment” from the boy, so he picks up the cup and goes to find a seat in the thankfully empty corner.
Zhuzhi-lang pulls out a worn journal, a gift from his uncle for some birthday years ago, its cover a mess of stickers. He had been trying his hand at writing—poems, short stories, whatever came to mind. Listening to his uncle talk about his favorite stories had inspired Zhuzhi-lang to try and make something better; something that might get discussed at a book club in the future. It’s not that the books that Tianlang-jun picked to read were bad , but … at some point Zhuzhi-lang could predict the endings and tropes of every story from the first paragraph.
Zhuzhi-lang opens to the page he had been working on, taking a sip of his tea, and raises the volume of his music to start to sink into a workflow. His latest story was from the perspective of a friend of the hero, a lackey of sorts who always tried his best to support his friend on all his heroic conquests. Zhuzhi-lang thought it might be interesting to try this new point of view, and not at all because he sympathized with someone who would always be “second-best.”
Zhuzhi-lang sets a timer and starts writing, just letting the words flow without worrying about structure or grammatical errors. He felt an epiphany at the tips of his fingers, a spark of inspiration ready to flow, when something behind the counter catches his eye.
He looks up and sees the barista, Gongyi Xiao, glancing over at him. He looks away when Zhuzhi-lang catches his eye, looking embarrassed. Gongyi Xiao tries to subtly look over again, but is thwarted when Zhuzhi-lang does not break his stare. The barista opts to go clean some mugs instead of attempting more sneaky glances.
Zhuzhi-lang frowns. Why was he looking over so much? Did he find Zhuzhi-lang’s appearance so off-putting - like a freak show you couldn’t take your eyes away from? An uncomfortable prickle crawls up Zhuzhi-lang’s neck and he looks down at his journal. It was stupid to worry about the opinions of others, but it didn’t make it any less troublesome to deal with.
Zhuzhi-lang finds it hard to get back into his workflow after this, worried that every movement of his was being tracked. It didn’t help that he had hit a block in his story, not sure how to connect the last scene with the next one he wanted to write.
He chews on the cap of his pen until he’s jolted by a tap on his chair with something metallic. He looks up and sees Tianlang-jun smiling down at him. Zhuzhi-lang takes off his headphones.
“Is your meeting over, jiujiu?” he asks, closing his journal and putting it back in his shoulder bag.
Tianlang-jun sighs in his usual way—as if he carried the burdens of the world on his shoulders, though the easy smile stays on his lips. “Sadly, it is. We were in the middle of a heated debate about the use of—“ He stops when Zhuzhi-lang waves his hands insistently.
“No need to explain,” Zhuzhi-lang grumbles, not needing any more information to know that he would regret hearing it. He stands and holds his hand out, accepting the pile of books that Tianlang-jun was carrying. “Let’s go home.”
“Wait, what if I wanted something to drink?” Tianlang-Jun asks, looking over at the chalkboard menu, “All that serious discussion has left your uncle’s throat quite dry.”
Zhuzhi-lang glances toward the counter. Gongyi Xiao was still working and Zhuzhi-lang was loath to have another conversation with him.
Zhuzhi-lang sighs. “I’ll get the car warmed up and wait for you.” Without waiting for his uncle to answer he shoulders out of the coffee shop.
A short while later Tianlang-jun climbs into the passenger seat of Zhuzhi-lang’s car (an old sedan that had been passed down from his uncle to his cousin and eventually to him), laying his cane across his lap and hugging his hot cup close to his chest.
“That boy working behind the counter is new. Nice boy, by the looks of it. Very polite,” Tianlang-jun comments idly before taking a sip.
Zhuzhi-lang grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “Just buckle up, jiujiu.”
—
“You really shouldn’t take Shang Qinghua as a role model for anything. He may write ten thousand words a day, but none of it is any good.”
Zhuzhi-lang smiles a little at Shen Yuan’s comment. It was a known yet never acknowledged fact that Shang Qinghua’s number one fan was Shen Yuan himself. The fanboy-ing just came in the guise of unfiltered and uncensored criticism.
Shen Yuan had offered to help Zhuzhi-lang overcome his writer’s block by spending the afternoon with him, since having company by his side sometimes motivated him to be more productive.
Zhuzhi-lang has been simply following where Shen Yuan guides him down the street, relieved to not have to be concerned with figuring out their workplace for the day. His indecisiveness sometimes got in the way of progress, which is what he was realizing was the problem with his writing — so, better to let a friend handle it.
Unfortunately, as if Zhuzhi-lang’s life was written to be a tragic comedy, Shen Yuan decides to pick the same coffee shop that Zhuzhi-lang worked at during his uncle’s book club meetings. It had been a fine place to work until recent events. Zhuzhi-lang peers through the window and his eyes narrow immediately at the sight of the barista behind the counter. Dark hair in a neat ponytail, handsome smiling face, and a refined style.
It was Gongyi Xiao.
“I think we should go somewhere else,” Zhuzhi-lang says and coughs when Shen Yuan shoots him a look. “It’s just —“ He stops. He doesn’t really have a good excuse that he isn’t embarrassed saying out loud.
Shen Yuan offers a gentle smile. “It looks the least crowded out of all the places we passed,” he says, misunderstanding Zhuzhi-lang’s concerns. “And we’ll grab a quiet seat in the back.”
Zhuzhi-lang sighs. Shen Yuan was always so concerned about his comfort and he didn’t want to be impolite. “Fine,” he mumbles, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. “Can you order for me?”
Shen Yuan nods and Zhuzhi-lang follows him inside. Shen Yuan was right, there are only a few people sitting by the window, and even the music playing inside isn’t as obnoxious as the other places they had scoped out. It seems like a decent work environment for the afternoon.
Zhuzhi-lang zones out as he stands beside Shen Yuan, staring at an off-color tile on the floor as he considers the next segment of his story. The protagonist needs his moment to shine, standing apart from his heroic best friend as his own character, but Zhuzhi-lang can’t decide what this crowning achievement should be. He knows Tianlang-jun would suggest a romance, but the thought of anything ooey-gooey or smutty touching his story makes his hair stand on end.
Zhuzhi-lang snaps out of his trance when Shen Yuan elbows him, and he looks up to see both his friend and Gongyi Xiao staring at him. His hands curl into fists in his pockets.
“What?”
Gongyi Xiao laughs a little. “Oh, I was just saying I could never pull off dyed hair like yours!” He says with a bright look in his eyes. “It’s a cool color.”
I could never pull it off like you . Don’t people say things like that as a backhanded compliment? Zhuzhi-lang frowns a little. “Thanks,” he replies automatically, then looks at Shen Yuan. “I’m getting us a table.”
He leaves, retreating to a corner where he could avoid any lines of sight from the counter. When he’s seated, Zhuzhi-lang fingers a strand of his green hair. Why did Gongyi Xiao have to say something about his looks again? Was he trying to get a rise out of him?
Before Zhuzhi-lang can start to fantasize about telling this stupid, handsome barista off, Shen Yuan appears with both their drinks in hand. Zhuzhi-lang accepts it gratefully.
“Can you believe that guy?” Zhuzhi-lang huffs, hoping his friend would commiserate with him. Surely Shen Yuan could spot a faker like this from a mile away.
Unfortunately, all Shen Yuan does is cock his head curiously. “What do you mean?”
“He was — I mean …” Zhuzhi-lang nibbles on his lip rings. “It was just a weird thing for him to say.”
“What — the barista?”
“Mn.”
Shen Yuan shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, a sugary concoction that makes Zhuzhi-lang’s teeth hurt just at the sight of it. “I dunno. It seemed like he was just complimenting you?”
It seemed Zhuzhi-lang truly had no allies, he despairs as he slumps a little in his seat. “Maybe,” he mutters, then decides he’s ready to stop talking about Gongyi Xiao. “So, let me tell you about where I want this story to go…”
—
“You’re not coming with me?” Tianlang-Jun asks, the passenger door open, poised to exit the car.
Zhuzhi-lang tears his eyes away from the unfortunately familiar face he spots in the coffee shop window. “Uhm, I don’t like this parking spot,” he lies, which grants an eyebrow raise from his uncle. It was the perfect parking spot, right in front of the building where the book club meetings happened, and a day where Zhuzhi-lang wouldn’t have to pay for the meter. He clears his throat. “I’ll just … drive around the block a few times. Don’t worry about me.”
Tianlang-jun shrugs. “Whatever you say, nephew,” he hums, a tone of voice slipping into his speech that lets Zhuzhi-lang know his uncle has no idea what he’s going on about, but that he’s accepted it. “Just don’t leave your poor uncle out in the cold, hm?”
“It’s springtime, jiujiu,” Zhuzhi-lang says dryly.
Tianlang-jun chuckles as he exits the car. “Ah, but these old bones..” He trails off as he closes the car door and leaves Zhuzhi-lang alone to his grumbling.
Did no one else work here? Did Gongyi Xiao have to work now — on this day and at this hour? Zhuzhi-lang drops his forehead onto the steering wheel and pores over his options.
He could stay in his car, though that would risk strange looks from passersby. Zhuzhi-lang would also be missing out on a nice drink to carry him through his work session.
He could suck it up and walk into that coffee shop. That was out of the question. He’d have to talk to Gongyi Xiao again, and what if he made another underhanded comment?
He starts the engine and decides to make a few circles around the block. Maybe he would get lucky and find a new place to work. A place where he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking at him or trying to make small talk about inconsequential things. Yes, and maybe this new place might have an even better tea selection for him to choose from. And he would feel inspired and —
A few minutes later Zhuzhi-lang is opening the door to the coffee shop, the car never having moved from its place. It’s hard to deny the logic of going here, especially when it’s the easiest to pick up Tianlang-jun after his meeting. He doesn’t want to make his uncle walk more than he needs to.
Zhuzhi-lang starts a mantra in his head of his order. One and done. In and out. If he can get through this interaction quickly, then he won’t have to stick around and chat with Gongyi Xiao. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t smile and encourage more chitchat.
Zhuzhi-lang approaches the counter and blinks in surprise when a hot cup is placed in front of him. Not expecting this, Zhuzhi-lang gapes at the cup, then up at Gongyi Xiao. The barista has a slightly sheepish smile on his face.
“Medium green tea with a touch of honey?” he asks.
Zhuzhi-lang nods wordlessly, hand reaching for the cup. How did he —
Sensing his question, Gongyi Xiao shrugs and chuckles lightly. “It was the same thing you ordered the last few times you were here, so I took a gamble?” He seems to feel uncertain with Zhuzhi-lang’s prolonged silence so he clears his throat. “I-if it’s not what you want, I can make you something else. Free of charge.”
Zhuzhi-lang shakes his head and reaches into his jacket pocket for his money. This was not how he had planned this interaction to go, and the sirens ringing in his head were overpowering any logical thought. He goes to hand over the payment when Gongyi Xiao shakes his head.
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s on the house!” Gongyi Xiao is laughing more now, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, I … geez, I wanted that to go a lot smoother.”
Zhuzhi-lang’s face warms, half-embarrassed and half-flustered. Was he making fun of him? It was hard to tell. Zhuzhi-lang can’t quite piece together Gongyi Xian’s actions, words, and expression all at once to come to a conclusion. But he had given him a free drink, so that warranted a touch more politeness when Zhuzhi-lang finally is able to speak.
“Thank you.”
Gongyi Xian’s shoulders relax. “Sure, yeah! Just don’t tell my boss, okay? I think I’m still too new at this job to be giving out free drinks,” he jokes. He clears his throat when Zhuzhi-lang doesn’t laugh. “Uhm, cool. Have a good day?”
Zhuzhi-lang is on autopilot as he takes his drink to an empty table and takes a seat. He manages to even find his journal after rooting blindly through his bag, staring at the table top and not quite perceiving anything. What had just happened?
Zhuzhi-lang still hadn’t quite processed the interaction with Gongyi Xiao when he’s broken from his trance by a tap on his shoulder. His uncle’s presence was a welcome distraction and Zhuzhi-lang stands up, grateful for the excuse to finally leave and get fresh air.
Tianlang-jun tuts before Zhuzhi-lang can make a break for the door, freezing Zhuzhi-lang in his tracks. “Ah, nephew, what about a drink for the road?”
Zhuzhi-lang wishes he had never trained his uncle to expect a treat whenever they went out, but it was nearly impossible to deny him his request. He glances at the counter, then looks back at his uncle with a near desperate expression. “Why don’t I make you something at home, jiujiu?”
Tianlang-jun is more perceptive than Zhuzhi-lang hopes and he catches Zhuzhi-lang’s looks towards Gongyi Xiao. A conspiratorial smile appears on the older man’s face that makes a pit form in Zhuzhi-lang’s stomach.
“No, no, it has to be from here,” Tianlang-jun says with an authoritative air, then manages a yawn so fake that Zhuzhi-lang wonders how his uncle ever managed to succeed as an actor. “But I’m so tired . Why don’t you get it for me?”
Zhuzhi-lang grits his teeth. “Fine,” he says, knowing that he would never win an argument against Tianlang-jun. “Your usual?”
Tianlang-jun nods, looking far too satisfied as Zhuzhi-lang all but stomps his way to the counter.
He barely waits for Gongyi Xiao’s cheerful greeting before launching into his uncle’s order. He shoves a bill into Gongyi Xiao’s palm with a “Keep the change”, then stalks over to the pickup area to fume some more. He ignores his uncle’s waggling eyebrows and winks from the table he was sitting at, trying desperately not to read into whatever message he was trying to get across.
It’s not like Zhuzhi-lang wasn’t accustomed to his uncle trying to set him up with every young person they crossed paths with, it was just annoying that this time Gongyi Xiao was the target. Zhuzhi-lang would never ever consider going out with Gongyi Xiao.
Never ever.
Right?
As Zhuzhi-lang drives himself and his uncle back home, he’s already braced for Tianlang-jun’s commentary about the interaction he witnessed.
“You know, if he got to see what a handsome smile my nephew has…”
Zhuzhi-lang groans and tries not to swerve into oncoming traffic.
—
“Hm, this is interesting…”
Zhuzhi-lang looks up from his phone and looks at Shen Yuan. He’s currently curled on his friend’s couch, waiting for Shen Yuan to finish reading the latest chapters of his story. He can trust Shen Yuan to give a fair assessment of his writing. Shen Yuan is also the person he’s least embarrassed to share with. It isn’t that Tianlang-jun won’t be supportive, but … his uncle’s enthusiasm can be a lot to take in all at once, especially about something Zhuzhi-lang had written himself. He would share it with his uncle when Zhuzhi-lang felt like his story was near-perfect. Maybe.
“What’s interesting?’ Zhuzhi-lang asks, curious about what Shen Yuan may have picked up on.
The latest section Zhuzhi-lang had written was a romance arc for his protagonist. Normally he wouldn’t be interested in a subplot like this, but Zhuzhi-lang felt like he could subvert stereotypical tropes he found tired and overused.
Shen Yuan looks up from Zhuzhi-land’s journal and there’s a wry smile on his face. It makes Zhuzhi-lang suspicious.
“The love interest of your character…” Shen Yuan trails off ominously.
Zhuzhi-lang sits up. “Yes?”
Shen Yuan’s eyebrows are raised past his bangs. “He reminds me a lot of that barista who complimented you the other day…”
Zhuzhi-lang stares hard at his friend. Had he heard him correctly? “Huh?”
Shen Yuan lifts up the journal again and starts reading aloud from the pages. “‘The man was handsome beyond measure, with dark hair and glittering eyes, though a boyish air hung about him.’” Shen Yuan chuckles. “Sounds a lot like … what was his name? Gongyi Xiao?”
“Shut up!” Zhuzhi-lang blurts, hopping up on the couch. Shen Yuan looks at him in surprise. Zhuzhi-lang’s face is so warm and he feels a flush crawling down his neck. “H-he’s not! He’s nothing like that … that… that guy.”
Shen Yuan holds his hands up in defense. “Alright, alright! It was just a random thought. Maybe I’m reading into it.”
Zhuzhi-lang sits back down and crosses his arms, curling into it. “There’s nothing to read into,” he grumbles. “Just … just tell me if the writing makes sense.”
Zhuzhi-lang doesn’t catch the smile on Shen Yuan’s face as he turns back to his work.
—
After a few more weeks of writing and editing (mostly agonizing over every other word and line), Zhuzhi-lang decides to post the first chapter of his story. Shen Yuan helped him with typing it all up, formatting, and holding his hand while he hit “post.”
Zhuzhi-lang isn’t expecting much in terms of reception, happy that he just had something out in the world. It doesn’t stop him from checking his phone more frequently, waiting for a notification about a like or comment on his work.
“Is everything okay, nephew?” Tianlang-jun asks from his position on the loveseat, looking very comfortable with his head pillowed on his wife, Su Xiyan’s, lap. She sometimes joked that Tianlang-jun had been a cat in a past life with the way he liked to lounge about. Zhuzhi-lang would have to agree.
“Hm?” Zhuzhi-lang asks, not taking his eyes away from his phone, worrying his teeth over his snake bites as he stares at the “0 comments” text on the page.
“You keep checking your phone.” Tianlang-jun chuckles. “Have you finally found a handsome suitor like I’ve been hoping for you?”
Zhuzhi-lang’s face gets hot like it always does whenever his uncle brings up his love life (which is, unfortunately often). “No.”
“Is it a girl? Don’t feel like you can’t bring a girl home to us.”
“Jiujiu!”
Su Xiyan hums and gently tugs on Tianlang-jun’s hair where she’s been petting her fingers through the salt-pepper locks. “Stop teasing him, dear,” she says. “Your nephew is allowed his privacy.”
Tianlang-jun makes a gruff noise but he’s pacified when Su Xiyan keeps petting him. It seemed like his uncle would not defeat the big cat allegations this afternoon.
Out of the spotlight now, Zhuzhi-lang could sink back into his own thoughts. Since his uncle brought it up, he’s started thinking about his own love life. It was much easier to read and write about other people’s love lives rather than to think about himself in any romantic context. When you could control the characters, you could make them react exactly like you wanted them to. It was predictable , and that was less scary.
With real people …
Zhuzhi-lang had already decided long ago that he would be content with the single life (plus maybe a few reptilian critters).
Unfortunately, Zhuzhi-lang’s mind decides to play traitor and reminds him of a certain someone whose presence had become a weekly fixture for him. Gongyi Xiao was working every evening that Tianlang-jun had his book club meetings, so Zhuzhi-lang had gotten used to him. Zhuzhi-lang had chosen to be less hostile, especially after the free drink incident (and definitely not because of any comments Shen Yuan had made comparing the barista to his written characters). Sometimes he’d even smile at Gongyi Xiao when he was handed his drink, though his uncle might say that the slight upturn at the corners of his lips hardly counted.
Gongyi Xiao had given up his attempts to make small talk, but he had never stopped being friendly to Zhuzhi-lang and Tianlang-jun whenever they ordered. Zhuzhi-lang would still catch the barista glancing over at him when he was working, but he had already decided that perhaps … perhaps Gongyi Xiao’s intentions were less sinister than he first presumed.
Zhuzhi-lang blinks out of his reverie when his phone buzzes in his hands. He checks the notifications and his eyes grow wide in surprise.
1 new comment from g0lden_b0y: “AAA this is so good already!! Please tell me there’s more coming soon? ;3; What a cliffhanger for the opening…”
Zhuzhi-lang’s heart pounds. Of all the responses he was expecting to receive when putting his art out into the world, a compliment was not the first thing that came to mind. Not only is it a compliment, but this person wants to read more? He has a fan?
Zhuzhi-lang does not notice the wide grin blooming on his face as he types out a reply to this welcome stranger. He does not notice his aunt and uncle looking over, a shared amused expression on their faces, wondering what in the world could have their nephew beaming like that.
—
Zhuzhi-lang waits in line with Shen Yuan, listening to his friend rant (yet again) about the plot holes in Shang Qinghua’s latest stallion novels. Zhuzhi-lang hasn’t had a chance to meet the infamous Shang Qinghua yet, but he has a feeling that he would get on tremendously with his uncle. Then again, bringing together two agents of chaos may cause a small implosion in and of itself…
They reach the front, but Gongyi Xiao is distracted by something on his phone, wide bright eyes darting back and forth as he scrolls. He doesn’t notice their approach, and it takes Shen Yuan clearing his throat politely before he looks up with a startled look – Zhuzhi-lang thinks he looks like a deer trapped in headlights.
Cute , he thinks to himself, before quickly shoving that thought deep, deep down where he can’t acknowledge it.
Gongyi Xiao puts his phone away with an embarrassed laugh. “Ah, sorry about that!” he says hurriedly, and then his customer service smile is back on. “How can I help you?”
Shen Yuan’s interest seems piqued. “What were you looking at?”
A blush colors Gongyi Xiao’s cheeks. He coughs delicately. “Ah, it’s …” He hesitates, then seems to feel comfortable enough to share with the present company. “There’s this story online I’ve been following. There’s only a few chapters out, but it’s so good that I keep checking for updates.”
Shen Yuan smiles. “Who’s it written by? Maybe I’m familiar with the author.”
Gongyi Xiao seems relieved that Shen Yuan’s response was accepting. “Their username is Little Pudding. I stumbled on it randomly, but … I just keep rereading it,” he says with a slightly dreamy look in his eyes.
Upon hearing the username, Zhuzhi-lang freezes while Shen Yuan’s smile grows to a full blown grin. Zhuzhi-lang doesn’t like how mischievous the side glance that Shen Yuan gives him is.
“Well, you know–”
Zhuzhi-lang elbows his friend so hard that Shen Yuan falls into a coughing fit. Gongyi Xiao is startled but Zhuzhi-lang just glares daggers at his friend, needing him to shut his mouth before he says something reckless .
Shen Yuan rubs his side with a pout at Zhuzhi-lang, then turns to the barista again. “Ah, I’m not familiar with them, but I’ll check it out! We read a lot of online fiction too,” he says with another glance at the now sour-faced Zhuzhi-lang.
Gongyi Xiao brightens. “You should! I’d love to talk more about it with you too!” He glances behind the pair when the bell above the door jingles. “Now, what would you like to order? I don’t want to hold you up.”
Zhuzhi-lang stares at his drink on the table, refusing to acknowledge Shen Yuan’s raised eyebrows across from him.
“You have a fan , Xizhi-lang,” Shen Yuan teases in a sing-song voice.
“Shut up.”
“And Gongyi Xiao, of all people! I wonder if he recognizes that one character…”
Zhuzhi-lang groans and drops his forehead to the table. “Shut up , Shen Yuan.” His words have no bite to them, completely at a loss of what to feel about all of this.
Shen Yuan leans in to whisper in his friend’s ear. “You know, this is the perfect opportunity to ask him out. Wouldn’t it be interesting to hear the thoughts of someone who’s that into your writing?”
Unfortunately, Shen Yuan did have a point. Zhuzhi-lang could only trust the opinions of his friends so far, sure that they would sugarcoat their criticisms if they had any. Listening to a third party could give him some valuable insight, especially if they weren’t aware that he was the author.
And it has absolutely nothing to do with how handsome Gongyi Xiao is and how Zhuzhi-lang has caught himself thinking about the barista on more than one occasion.
Zhuzhi-lang waits until Gongyi Xiao has served all the customers on line and his face warms when he sees the other boy going to check his phone again, that alert expression back as he scrolls.
Zhuzhi-lang stands and walks over to the counter, ignoring the double thumbs-up that Shen Yuan throws at him in passing. Zhuzhi-lang tunes out every thought in his brain that is screaming in protest, the ones that fear rejection or humiliation. He can do it .
“Go out with me.”
Gongyi Xiao’s mouth falls open in a surprised ‘o’. “Wha?”
Zhuzhi-lang clears his throat. Perhaps the barista hadn’t heard him. “Go out with me.” He starts to lose his nerve and he looks away. “To … to talk about. That story. The one you were telling us about.”
When Gongyi Xiao fails to respond immediately, Zhuzhi-lang is ready to bury himself in a pit and never emerge to the light ever again. This was it. The greatest mistake of his life (aside from when he let Tianlang-jun watch over his plants for his semester abroad and had come back to their withered corpses).
Zhuzhi-lang goes to step back, writing his own obituary in his mind, when Gongyi Xiao calls out, “Wait!”
Zhuzhi-lang stops, his eyes never leaving the counter, terrified of whatever disgusted expression Gongyi Xiao must have on his face.
“Y-yeah, I’ll go out with you!”
Zhuzhi-lang looks up and Gongyi Xiao is actually smiling at him. Was he … blushing? Zhuzhi-lang hadn’t planned a step two to this and he looks at Shen Yuan in a slight panic. Shen Yuan gives him an even more enthusiastic thumbs up, mouthing ‘Go for it!’. Zhuzhi-lang decides to take this as a sign.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled napkin and a pen. With shaky hands he writes down his phone number, sliding it over to Gongyi Xiao. Gongyi Xiao accepts it with a shy smile.
“That’s my number,” Zhuzhi-lang explains even though he surely doesn’t need to. “We can text about … yeah.” His tongue feels too large for his mouth, the words impossible to get out.
“I’ll text you for sure!” Gongyi Xiao says and Zhuzhi-lang is nearly blinded by how bright his expression is. “And we can go out as soon as I figure out my work schedule, yeah?”
“... Yeah.”
Zhuzhi-lang walks stiffly back to the table he shares with Shen Yuan. He doesn’t hear what his friend says to him at first over his own pounding heartbeat in his ears. Shen Yuan gives him a pat on the shoulder.
“You did great,” Shen Yuan says encouragingly. “You did really great.”
Zhuzhi-lang nods, then looks back towards the counter again. Gongyi Xiao is still clutching the napkin in his hand, looking at Zhuzhi-lang with a big grin on his face.
Zhuzhi-lang smiles back.