Work Text:
“…The number you’re trying to reach is currentl—”
Cutting the call quickly, Fang resists the urge to throw his phone down onto the hard tile below him as he collapses into the couch.
Fang would say that, for all his faults, he’s grown into a fairly mature and rational adult. He knows what he lacks, and he’s more than able to identify and admit when he’s being paranoid or unreasonable. Most of the time, these bubbling anxieties in him are entirely unfounded, stemming from lifelong insecurities and a childhood cut short by neglect, and he’s able to recognize that in himself and react accordingly.
Now is not one of those times.
Gritting his teeth, he tries to take deep breaths, slower on the exhale than the inhale, just like Tan taught him—except, that just makes him think of Tan, where the fuck is Tan, why isn’t he picking up his phone, what did Fang do wrong—
Well, anyway, it doesn’t help.
Throwing himself in front of moving traffic would feel less terrible at this rate, Fang swears. The worst part is that the small bit of rationality he still has, trapped deep in his subconscious, is scoffing at him for his current manic state, shouting at him that’s overexaggerating, that he’s crazy, that he’s hysterical, and it’s fucking right. He is hysterical, and without Tan here to make his stupid little flirty jokes and shower him with PDA and beg for his attention, the battalion of anxious thoughts in Fang’s brain is threatening to overtake him completely.
Because here he is, stressed out of his mind about his final projects coming up, and Tan isn’t fucking responding to his calls. Tan, the person who would no sooner throw his phone into the water than purposefully ignore Fang, hasn’t been answering his phone for the past 24 hours.
Fang is about to fucking lose it.
His useless brain is no help, serving him up a cold platter of nothing whenever he tries to think of a rational explanation for why Tan’s not responding. Instead, he’s dished out hundreds of nonsense explanations, everything ranging from “well, what if Tan’s phone got eaten by a dog?” to “this is all part of a massive prank video and Tan is going to appear out of the bushes any minute now to reveal the past six months has been a total joke and he’s never loved Fang—”
“Dammit!”
With a loud groan, Fang actually does throw his phone this time, but thankfully only onto the other couch. He watches with poorly veiled frustration as it bounces on the plush cushion, wholly unaware of the sheer rage Fang holds towards it in his heart at this moment.
“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep glaring like that.”
Fang’s not ashamed to say he jumps at little at the sudden voice, and he whips his head around to see none other than Phum strolling up to him, a mix of playfulness and worry painted on his face. Instantly, all—well, most of the frustration in Fang melts away in favor of confusion and concern. Phum hadn’t told him he was coming back home today, so why is he here now? Why wouldn’t he tell Fang? Did something happen? Is there something wro—
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Phum snaps him out of his reverie, leaning over to flick his forehead lightly like Fang always use to do to him as a kid. Before Fang can react though, Phum grabs his discarded phone, sets it safely down onto the coffee table, and settles down onto the couch adjacent to him. “What’s going on?”
“What are you doing here?” Fang asks, ignoring him completely in favor of reaching over to rest a hand on Phum’s knee. “Is everything okay? Did you need something? Are you—”
“Fang,” Phum cuts him off, voice chiding as he rests his hand on Fang’s and squeezes. “I’m fine.”
Except, there’s a certain edge to expression, a slight frown on his lips and droop in his eyes that he can’t seem to hide even as he tries to give Fang a reassuring smile. Fang’s quick to think, mentally sorting through anything and everything that could’ve possibly happened to figure out what’s happened.
It shouldn’t be school related— engineering just finished their midterms a few days ago, and they should be able to relax for at least another week before schoolwork ramps up again. He’s pretty sure it’s too early for them to have received their grades yet, and even if they did, Phum always does exceptionally well in his exams, so Fang highly doubts it’s that. None of their friends have done or said anything weird or bad lately, as far as he can tell, and Fang’s pretty sure that Phum and Peem were supposed to be celebrating their three-month anniversary soon—
Wait.
“Didn’t you have a date with Peem today?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows when Phum winces and looks away. “You were gonna go to the aquarium, right? What happened? Did you guys get into a fight? Did he—oh god, he didn’t bail on you, did he—?”
“Fang,” Phum whines, pushing Fang’s hand off his knee and collapsing back into the couch cushions. “He didn’t bail on me, that’s next week.”
“Oh.” Fang pauses, pursing his lips as he mulls it over. “Then what happened? Did Peem do something?”
“He…”
“Phum.” Fang knows he’s putting on his big brother voice, but he can’t help himself, frowning and crossing his arms when Phum doesn’t respond. “Phum.”
“It’s fine,” Phum finally relents, “We were supposed to hang out today but Peem had to raincheck. It’s no biggie.” Fang’s frown deepens, but before he can even his mouth to say anything, Phum’s cutting him off. “Let’s talk about you, though. What’s got you so upset?”
“I’m not upset,” Fang says too quickly, even as the gut-wrenching feelings of worry that he’d temporarily displaced start to bubble up once more.
Phum, unsurprisingly, sees right through him.
“Fang,” he says, in the same firm, pointed tone that Fang dished out at him just a minute ago, and Fang would be impressed if he wasn’t so annoyed. “What’s wrong?”
There’s a hundred things Fang wants to say, mostly all going back to the same lie—he’s fine, nothing’s wrong, there’s not a single thing to worry about. But it’s easy to forget that as much Fang’s become an expert at reading Phum over the years, that skill is reciprocal. A lifetime of only relying on each other for emotional support made it impossible to hide even a single thing from one another, and when Fang looks into Phum’s eyes, shining with understanding and patience, he can’t stop the words spilling out of his mind.
“Tan is ignoring me.” Immediately, he cringes internally at his own words, his subconscious chastising him for being so dramatic, but he can’t stop himself. “He hasn’t texted all day, and he isn’t picking up any of my calls, either.”
Fang looks away then, staring down at his phone that’s innocently laying on the coffee table, unknowingly holding Fang’s heart in its grip. Too lost in his own inner turmoil, he doesn’t notice the realization flashing in Phum’s eyes, the slight upward curl of his lips, the soft sigh he lets out.
“I just, I don’t know what’s going on. He never does this, but he didn’t even text good night yesterday and we haven’t been able to see each other much this week because I’ve been so busy on projects. What if… what if he’s mad at me?”
“Fang…”
“Oh god, do you think he’s upset that I haven’t been paying him much attention? He even tried to help me with my assignment a couple days ago but I didn’t let him… but, but that’s just because I always get so distracted and I don’t want to work when he’s around! I just wanted to get it over with so we could hang out properly, and, well, I really did need to finish that diorama fast—”
“Fang—”
“Fuck, I really push him away a lot, don’t I? God, what if he’s mad at me? What if he’s getting tired of… of me, of us—fuck, Phum, what if he wants to break up—”
“Fang!”
Fang jumps in his seat when Phum slaps a hand on his knee and shouts his name, effectively shutting him up in a second. With wide eyes, he stares at Phum, who’s now looking at him with a mix of exasperation and fondness.
“W…what’s with that smile?” he asks after a moment, and Phum just chuckles and shakes his head.
“C’mon,” he says in lieu of a response, standing up and nudging Fang to do the same. “Let’s go.”
“…where?”
When Phum looks at him this time, there’s a certain amused glint in his eyes that Fang does not like.
“To Tan’s.”
-
The ride to Tan’s place is achingly silent.
Well, that’s not quite right. The first half of it is filled with Fang’s complaints, as he attempts to convince Phum that this is a bad idea, that this is silly, that they should just go home and leave it at that. Why he actually followed Phum into the car in the first place, he can’t really say, but with every meter closer they get to Tan’s condo, the knot in his stomach only gets tighter and his heart only beats faster. At some point, once he realizes that Phum’s not going to entertain his denials, he switches to just sitting in silence, mindlessly toying with his phone and scratching at his arms in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the bundle of nerves growing within him.
Phum says nothing as they park the car, step into the building, and get into the elevator up to Tan’s floor. By now, Fang feels about ready to just melt into the ground, his heart practically in his throat and his head dizzy at the thought of just seeing Tan right now. Restlessly tapping his foot, he watches as the numbers on the elevator display go up and up as they get closer to Tan’s floor, and he vaguely wonders if he could press the emergency stop button just to get out of this.
Before he could even try it, though, they reach Tan’s floor, and Phum is practically pushing him out of the elevator and guiding him to Tan’s unit. He almost takes them to the wrong one—Phum usually has his friends over at his own condo, so it’s been a while since he’s been to Tan’s—and Fang tries to let his amusement distract him from the sheer panic welling up in his chest as he directs them to Tan’s place.
It doesn’t work.
Phum, likely sensing Fang’s readiness to run away at a second, wraps his hand around his forearm lightly before ringing the doorbell. A beat passes, then another, then another, and suddenly Fang is babbling before he can stop it.
“Well, looks like he’s not here,” he says immediately, taking a step back and trying to urge Phum to walk away with him. Phum just tightens his grip on his arm in retaliation. “Phum—”
He doesn’t get to finish his thought, though, because the very next second, the front door is opening to reveal—
“…Q?”
Q blinks, but he’s not looking at Fang, his eyes immediately going to Phum and staring at him with amusement. He looks kinda flustered, Fang notices, his clothes ruffled and his hair tied up in the front to get it out of his eyes.
“Oh, it’s just you,” he says, still looking at Phum. “What, couldn’t leave your beloved alone for a single day?”
Huh?
Phum just shrugs and puts his hands up in defeat.
“Guilty as charged,” he says lightly, before nodding towards Fang. “Wanted to bring you guys some back up.”
Q finally looks over to Fang then, eyes widening when their gazes meet. Confusion first flashes across his face, but that’s quickly overtaken by obvious relief as he grins wide and lets out a short, barking laugh.
“Oh thank god,” he huffs, finally opening the door to let them both in.
Phum steps in easily and Fang trails behind him, trying to squash the urge to book it out of here immediately. Instead, he elbows Phum lightly, questioning with his eyes when their gazes meet. Phum doesn’t bother explaining anything, though, just shaking his head and gesturing to him to follow Q as he walks towards Tan’s bedroom. When he doesn’t, Phum just sighs and walks forward anyway, leaving Fang to shut the front door behind him and just follow along helplessly.
He can hardly hear himself thinking past the sound of his blood rushing past his ears, and his palms feel sweaty as they near Tan’s bedroom door. It’s open, and now that they’re inside, Fang can hear some muffled commotion that does nothing to quell the confusion in his heart. As they get closer, Fang opens his mouth to ask something, anything, but he’s quickly stopped by Q speaking up.
“Hey guys,” he says, leaning on the threshold and grinning as he talks, “we’re off duty.”
Grumbled sounds of acknowledgment resonate in the room, and that’s when Fang’s curiosity gets the best of him. Slowly, he slinks forward, steeping just close enough to finally see into Tan’s room and stopping immediately at what he sees.
It’s not just Q here— all of Tan’s friends are here, sprawled across his bedroom. Tan himself is laying down in bed, his back propped up against his headboard even as the rest of his body is buried in blankets. Meanwhile, Chain’s at the foot of his bed, folding a bunch of clothes that look suspiciously like Tan’s, and Peem is sat next to Tan with a bowl of soup and a spoon in his hands and a vaguely irritated look on his face. Pun’s walking towards the bed too, a bowl of what looks to be water and a washcloth in his hand.
Only Peem bothers to look up to respond to Q’s words, and when he does, his eyes immediately hone in on Phum.
“Phum!” he shouts, nearly spilling the soup in his fervor to set it down on the nightstand next to him.
His shout seems to snap Tan out of his own daze as he looks up, only for his eyes to instantly catch Fang’s. He looks… oddly tired, with deep dark circles under his eyes, a light pink flush on his cheeks and nose, and sweat beading all over his face. It only takes a couple more seconds for Fang to put the pieces together after that, and he almost can’t believe it.
Tan is… sick?
He wants to say something, but the words feel caught in his mouth, and any chance he could’ve had to speak is immediately overtaken by Peem all but storming up to them, up to Phum, in a clear rage.
“I told you not to come!” he scolds, crossing his arms and staring up at him like a teacher chastising a misbehaving student. Phum, for what it’s worth, looks somewhat sheepish, but he still reaches out to wrap his arm around Peem’s waist in a soft hug. Peem huffs, but doesn’t push him away. “What if you get sick?”
“Then… you can take care of me?” Phum asks cheekily, and Peem looks half ready to smack him. Before he can, though Phum leans in to press a quick sniff kiss to his cheek.
“Ew, don’t do that cheesy shit in front of us!” Chain complains.
“Like you and Pun are any better,” Peem snaps despite himself, sticking his tongue out as Phum pulls him closer.
“Excuse you!” Pun exclaims, settling the water bowl onto the bed so he can point accusingly at Peem. “We’re so much better, right Chain—”
“You’re all equally gross,” Q cuts in. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see Toey. Fang can take it over from here.”
His words suddenly snap some sense into the others, who quickly look over to stare at Fang. The second they do, a chorus of relieved groans fills the air, and Fang watches with bafflement as they all immediately move to grab their things.
“Q made soup,” Peem says as he grabs his bag and nods over to said soup on the nightstand. “You’ll have to force feed him, he’s useless as hell about eating on his own when he’s sick. His medicine’s in the bathroom, he needs to take two pills after eating before he goes back to sleep.”
“His clothes are all clean and folded,” Chain adds, “They just need to be put away into his closet. His sheets and towels are freshly washed and changed too, but if you need to do more laundry, his detergents below the kitchen sink.”
“He hasn’t showered since last night,” Pun finishes, sidling up to Chain’s side and intertwining their hands together. “So he kinda stinks, sorry.”
“I don’t stink—!” Tan exclaims, the first thing he’s said this whole time, but he’s quickly cut off by a coughing fit, and Fang’s moving on instinct.
Without even thinking, he immediately rushes to Tan’s bedside, quickly taking Peem’s place and rubbing his back to help soothe him. He reaches for the water bottle on the nightstand next to them, uncapping it and bringing it to Tan’s mouth as he encourages him to drink slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Phum and their friends slowly slipping out of the room, but he can hardly care about that when he has Tan in front of him right now.
Once Tan’s coughing mostly subsides and he’s drunk an adequate amount of water, Fang guides him to lean back on the headboard again, adjusting the pillows against his back to make it a bit more comfortable. Tan’s not looking at him, evading his gaze even when Fang stares at him.
Sighing, Fang reaches over to grab the soup. It looks like just a light vegetable soup, something simple and easy to digest, and Fang silently thanks all the gods out there that at least someone in the idiot squad knows how to cook. It’s still warm too, so he slowly grabs the spoon and brings a bit of soup to Tan’s mouth.
Biting his lip, Tan’s eyes flicker up to Fang, then to the soup, then back to Fang again, before he finally opens his mouth and lets Fang feed him the soup. They go on like that for a few minutes, with Fang silently feeding him and Tan staring at him skittishly, like he wants to say a hundred things but can’t get a single thing out. Fang can relate, feels all the words bubbling up in the back of his throat, but he tries to focus his attention on feeding Tan only.
Lift the spoon, blow it lightly, bring it to Tan’s lips, watch him chew, chew, chew, let him swallow, then repeat—
“Babe…”
Tan’s voice is weak, croaky, and even past the rush of emotions within him, Fang can’t help the pang in his heart he feels when he hears it. A thousand things come to mind, jumbled up in his helpless brain. He wants to scold Tan, tell him to just rest his throat and himself. He wants to assuage that worry in his eyes, assure him that everything is totally fine and dandy in their world. He wants to apologize for being such a trainwreck, for being so unlovely and unreasonable.
But all Fang’s stupid, stupid mouth is able to get out is an accusation.
“Why didn’t you say anything,” he says flatly, internally grimacing at just how sharp, how angry his voice sounds.
Tan gulps, watching with uneasy eyes as Fang sets the now-empty bowl on the nightstand before looking back at him.
“How did you find out?” Tan asks instead.
“Phum brought me here,” he answers, unable to help the frustration bubbling up in his voice. He repeats himself, trying to soften the edges of his voice, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Tan sighs heavily, and it’s such an uncharacteristic action for him, that Fang can barely stop himself from shaking. He only feels a little bit of relief when Tan reaches out to hold his hand, intertwining their fingers gently and stroking the side of Fang’s hand with his thumb.
“I didn’t want to worry you, babe,” he says honestly, and Fang can tell—can see the sincerity shining in those beautiful eyes that he’s come to love so much.
Somehow, the truth hurts even more than anything Fang’s traitorous brain could’ve come up.
“Am I not your boyfriend?”
The words are out of his lips before he can help it, and he instantly feels bad when he sees how stricken Tan looks, but he doesn’t regret them. He feels… he feels ridiculous, but also righteous in his anger, because here Tan was, sick and being taken care of by his friends while his boyfriend was none the wiser, spamming his phone with call after call like a total pest—
“You are,” Tan says softly, squeezing Fang’s fingers in his. “You’re my lovely boyfriend, and I… I thought if I told you, you’d get distracted from all of your projects to come look after me, and I didn’t want that. I wanted you to be able to focus on your work, without having to fuss over me.”
Fang’s breath hitches, something uncoiling in his chest immediately as he takes in the tenderness shining in Tan’s eyes.
God, how did Fang get so lucky?
“I really didn’t think it’d get this bad!” Tan quickly amends, bringing his other hand up to hold Fang’s as well. “I thought it was just a tiny little cough, and I’d be back to normal in no time!”
Fang can’t help but scoff at little at that, reaching his free hand up to pinch Tan’s nose.
“What happened, hm?”
“I… may have taken my motorcycle home in the rain yesterday.”
“Tan!”
Fang internally curses as he quickly puts two and two together. Usually, when they go home together, Fang will be the one to drive, but because he’d been so focused on his assignment yesterday, he specifically asked Tan not to wait for him and to go home on his own. By the time he’d finished working, he noticed the rain had been coming down heavily, but he’d foolishly assumed that Tan would be smart and get a taxi home.
Apparently not.
“I know, I know!” Tan says, leaning in close and tightening his hold on Fang’s hand and pouting. “I was being silly, I should’ve just gotten a car home, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, please?”
Fang wants to scold him, wants to chew him out for making such a ridiculous mistake. Except Tan’s pout is truly devastating, and Fang’s already felt like his heart’s been put in a grinder these past few hours, so maybe it’s fine to let his softness get the best of him this time.
Sighing, he shakes his head and chuckles softly. Tan’s body immediately relaxes with relief and then he’s smiling too, radiating like the sun even when he’s sick, and Fang feels warm just looking at him. That happens a lot, he’s realizing—Tan flooding his whole body with warmth and comfort just from the sight of him. It’s a new sensation, but it’s not an unwelcome one, and it’s almost enough to distract Fang from the coiling pit of apprehension that’s been building in him all day.
Almost, but not quite enough.
Trying to distract himself, Fang reaches over to grab the wet towel that fell from Tan’s forehead and sets it on the nightstand beside them. The bowl of water and washcloth Pun had prepared is just out of his reach from where he’s sat now, but Tan’s got a death grip on his hand, so he doesn’t think he’ll be able to grab it anytime soon. Instead, he busies himself by combing back some of Tan’s hair from his forehead with his free hand and feeling his skin, registering the slight warmth all over his face.
“Did you have a fever?”
“This morning, but it broke after a couple hours.”
“Mm.”
Fang continues like that for a moment, letting his hand dance around Tan’s face and neck in a poor excuse for checking his temperature. Tan probably sees right through him, but he simply soaks up all the attention Fang gives him with contentment. It’s a simple moment, one that should leave Fang with nothing but relaxed ease, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the parasitic thoughts creeping up his back, and even harder to hide those thoughts from his face.
It only takes another moment of his mindless caressing for Tan to bring one of his hands up to cover Fang’s on his cheek, holding it in place slightly and making Fang look him in the eye.
“What’s wrong?”
Fang’s never been quite good at expressing his thoughts out loud. He’s not like Tan, so genuine and authentic to himself in everything he does. Tan has no issues telling the whole world how it is he feels, no matter what, while Fang can hardly put sentences together when it comes to explaining what he’s thinking. Usually, Tan’s honest is a quiet comfort, one that he revels in because it takes so much of the overthinking and fearfulness out of his life.
Now, though, he kinda hates it, because not only is Tan honest and authentic—he always encourages Fang to be the same.
“Babe,” he says quietly, tightening his hands on Fang’s slightly—not to pressure him, but to ground him, to remind him that no matter what, he’s always there. “What’s wrong?”
Fang could lie; he’s well familiar with lying. He lies to his parents all the time, tells them that he doesn’t harbor any bad will towards them for how they acted when he was growing up. He lies to his friends, tells them that he’s totally fine, that he doesn’t get overly stressed, he’s just a little bit of perfectionist. He even lies to Phum sometimes, tells him he’s the big, strong older brother who can take care of himself, who Phum can always rely on, who Phum doesn’t have to worry about ever.
But somehow, lying to Tan feels nothing short of impossible.
“I thought you were mad at me,” he says, half-mumbling as he resists the urge to avert his eyes. It’s hard, but Tan’s gaze keeps him pinned in place all the same. There’s confusion in his eyes, so Fang continues. “I… you weren’t responding to my calls or my texts.”
Realization flashes on Tan’s expression as he opens his lips and lets out a small “ah.”
“My phone got totally soaked through in the rain and it’s not turning on,” he explains. “Chain and Pun said they’d take it to a repair shop for me to later today to see if it can be fixed.”
Oh.
Fang purses his lips, guilt immediately washing over him. Here he was, being so clingy and unreasonable, when of course Tan had a perfectly good explanation for not responding to him. God, what was wrong with him, why is he like this—
“Fang?”
Refocusing on Tan, Fang sees the worry painted all over his face and realizes he must have made a weird expression. Sighing, he tries to lean back and pull away, only to be stopped when Tan tightens his grip on his hands. Tan’s staring at him with a strange sort of determination now, one that makes Fang swallow the lump in his throat and speak before he can help it.
“Sorry, I—” he chokes slightly on the emotion bubbling up in his throat, taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle his nerves. “I was being stupid.”
“You’re never stupid!” Tan immediately refutes. “My baby is one of the smartest people I know—”
“Taaan,” he interrupts, unable to stop the slight whine in his voice. It makes Tan grin a little, and Fang shakes his head once more as he tries to explain himself. “I just, I don’t know, I thought you were upset with me, or that you… you’d gotten tired of me, or something. I guess I just… I was worried you wanted to break up with me.”
Tan’s eyes widen, and that’s the only warning Fang gets before he’s releasing his hands, only to throw his arms around his shoulders instead in a tight hug.
“Babe!” he cries out, half-sitting on Fang’s lap as he hugs him close, burrowing his face into the crook of his shoulder. “I love you so, so much, I’d never break up with you! Never, never, never, never—”
“I know, I know!” Fang shouts, except he’s laughing now, high on the feeling of Tan’s affection despite everything.
The coil in his chest loosens a bit more with every squeeze of Tan’s arms, every term of endearment spilling from his lips, every fluttering kiss he presses to Fang’s cheeks and neck. It’s not perfect, they’ll never be perfect, but Fang thinks he could spend forever in his arms like this and be happy, just like this.
Eventually, Tan’s exhaustion catches up with him, and it only takes another coughing fit to snap Fang back to the reality of the situation. He’s immediately back to fussing over him, forcing him to lay back onto the bed properly while he reaches over to grab the bowl of water from the other side.
“I’ll give you a sponge bath,” he says, rolling his eyes when Tan wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Tan.”
“Be gentle with my body, babe—”
“Oh my god, shut up.”
Except Fang’s grinning, shaking his head as he rings most of the water out of the washcloth and brings it to Tan’s neck. Tan looks so goofy, staring at him with such adoration in his eyes and grinning like he just won the lottery, and it’s entirely disarming. At least, that’s what Fang will say to himself later when he thinks back on his moment, as the words stumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.
“I love you too,” he says quickly, but of course Tan catches it. He’s grinning even wider now, and Fang hastily continues before Tan can do or say something ridiculous. “Next time something’s up, just tell me, okay?”
Tan blinks, still grinning even as he tilts his head in question.
“I mean,” Fang continues, “don’t stop yourself from telling me things just because I’m stressed. If something’s wrong, tell me immediately—it’s more stressful to not know what’s going on.” His gaze flickers up from Tan’s neck to his face. “Promise?”
Tan’s expression quickly softens, and he nods immediately.
“Promise,” he says, lifting his pinky finger up expectingly. Fang laughs but obliges, bringing his free hand up to wrap their pinkies together. That’s not enough for Tan, though, who’s raising one eyebrows and curling his lips into a smirk. “Shall we seal this promise with a kiss?”
Fang laughs again—he can never quite stop laughing when he’s with Tan— and rolls his eyes. A thousand and one reasons to deny him come to his head, everything from that’ll just get Fang sick too to Tan needs to earn his kiss first, but they all fly out the window the second their eyes meet. Fang feels his heart skip a beat when he sees the pure affection in Tan’s eyes, sees just how utterly radiant he looks, and all thoughts of playing coy fly out of his head.
Perhaps he can indulge him, just this once.