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Wenlang wakes to the sweet fragrance of orange blossoms and a room much too bright for his liking. Opening his eyes, a soft groan slips past his lips unbidden as he feels his head pound ever so slightly. The world spins, lights burning into his retinas as everything slowly comes into focus.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” A disembodied voice says from beside him.
Turning to his right, Wenlang promptly chokes on his breath. This person, no, angel is quite possibly the most beautiful thing Wenlang has ever laid eyes on. Soft hair frames his head. His face is the embodiment of elegance, his lips a perfect Cupid's bow. He has a cutting jawline that trails so perfectly beyond the slight contour of his cheeks.
“Did I die?” Wenlang asks.
“What?” The person blurts beside him, his beautiful face morphing into a look of pure confusion—nay, exasperation—but even that looks divine. “No, you’re not dead.”
“You know me?” Wenlang asks.
“Obviously I know you—”
“Are you an angel?”
“What?”
Mr Angel—as Wenlang has decided to name in his head—stares at him dumbfounded for a few long moments before: “Wenlang, what the fuck?”
“Wow, god lets you guys curse?” Wenlang drawls, trying to sound amused but coming off more like slurring since the drugs in his system have not worn off.
“God?” Mr Angel questions, his tone dipping straight into complete disbelief. “Okay, I’m going to get you a psychiatrist, because clearly…” Mr Angel stands, prompting Wenlang to quickly stop him by gripping his wrist.
“Don’t go,” Wenlang says. “Aren’t you supposed to be my guardian angel or something? Why are you leaving?”
“What… the fuck…” Mr Angel mutters under his breath, prompting Wenlang to frown.
“You curse a lot for an angel,” Wenlang comments, earning a withering scowl from the angel.
“I’m not an angel,” Mr Angel says.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Wenlang says sarcastically. “So you expect me to believe a human is this pretty?”
“What?”
Mr Angel, once again, stares at him completely dumbfounded. His doe eyes widen, long lashes frozen in place as his beautiful plush lips fall ajar. “Wenlang, do you not know who I am?”
“You’re my guardian angel,” Wenlang says as if that’s the most normal thing in the world.
“No!” Mr Angel all but shouts. “No I’m not! Do you have any idea how you ended up here in the first place?”
Wenlang’s brows furrow as he reels through his memories for an answer. However, all he can remember is talking a walk outside his office building with someone, talking about… business…? A sudden shadow falls upon them both before Wenlang pushes his companion away with a “look out”. Next thing he knows, he’s here.
“Something hit me in the head,” Wenlang recalls.
“Yes,” Mr Angel confirms. “We were walking past construction when a brick fell from a height. So you pushed me aside and got hit instead.”
“Oh,” Wenlang says. “So I’m not dead?”
A sharp sigh escapes Mr Angel. “The doctor confirmed it’s a concussion. They gave you some anaesthesia to help with the pain but said you should be fine. I already called Gao Tu so he’ll be here any minute.”
As if on cue, the door opens to the familiar face of his husband. “Gao Tu,” Wenlang calls out, trying to sit up but wincing when sharp pain lances through his head.
“Don’t move,” Gao Tu says, quickly setting his bag on the floor before rushing over. “Are you still in pain? Maybe we can get the doctors to administer more morphine.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mr Angel says from the side.
Gao Tu’s face finally comes into focus when he reaches Wenlang’s bedside and—god fucking damn, Wenlang truly has a hard time believing he didn’t die and ascend to heaven. His husband is just as beautiful as Mr Angel over there. Concern lines the omega’s face as he leans in to press the back of his fingers against Wenlang’s forehead, causing the heartbeat monitor to—embarrassingly—start speeding up.
“Tutu,” Wenlang finds himself saying. “Do you also see the angel next to me, or am I hallucinating?”
Gao Tu frowns. The gentle crease of his brow makes Wenlang want to brush it away with his thumb—and before Wenlang knows it, he has already reached up to cup his husband’s cheek, causing Gao Tu’s face to flush crimson.
“Wenlang what are you doing?!” Gao Tu splutters.
“He’s been like that ever since he woke up,” Mr Angel points out as he folds his arms. “Maybe he has a personality disorder. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Wenlang turns to shoot the angel with a glare. “Tutu, the angel’s been so mean to me this entire time. Can we get god to fire him? Can I fire him? I don’t want him as my guardian angel anymore.”
“Wha…” Gao Tu murmurs, making brief eye contact with the angel before looking back at Wenlang. “Wenlang, that’s just Shaoyou.”
Shaoyou… That name does sound familiar… Sheng… Shaoyou?
“That’s not possible, Sheng Shaoyou’s a bitch,” Wenlang blurts, eliciting an amused chuckle from his husband that rings like bells in the spring.
“That is Shaoyou, dear,” Gao Tu says.
Wenlang doesn’t buy it, but because his wonderful, devastatingly beautiful husband says it with such certainty, he second-guesses himself. Looking to Mr Angel, Wenlang studies him slowly. Mr Angel’s features are sharp as blades but there’s a softness that lines his frame, visible in the curve of his lips and slant of his brow.
“Don’t look at me like that it’s creepy,” Mr Angel says, a rosy hue rising to his cheeks.
“You’re blushing,” Wenlang comments, seemingly having lost all tact.
“Wh— No I’m not,” Mr Angel defends.
Wenlang hums lightly, taking in this angel(?)’s reaction before the realization slams into him that it is not, a divine being, but a person. Attention snapping back to his husband, Wenlang says: “Tutu I am so sorry, I promise I didn’t hit on him. I only have eyes for you I swear. He’s a shitty angel anyway. Won’t even take me to meet god or whoever rules the afterlife.”
Mr Not-Angel splutters.
Gao Tu laughs, the sound so melodious that Wenlang’s heart melts on the spot. “It’s fine, Wenlang. You can hit on him.”
“Wha— A’Tu don’t tell him that!” Mr Not Angel exclaims before glowering at Wenlang when he turns to look at him. A single index finger is raised in warning when Wenlang's lips part to speak. “Don’t you dare.”
Wenlang just glances between Not-Angel and his husband, a perplexed look seeping into his countenance. “Tutu, you know you’re the only omega I will ever love right? I don’t need anyone else, especially not some bitchy angel.”
Gao Tu laughs again, and Wenlnag can’t help but feel immensely proud of himself that he’s made his wonderful husband laugh so many times in a row. “A’Lang, he’s not an omega. And we’ve talked about this many times. Shaoyou and Hua Yong are part of our pack now.”
“Hua Yong?” Wenlang blurts. “The lunatic?”
“That’s my husband you’re talking about,” the Not-Angel says, pulling Wenlang’s attention back towards him. It’s magnetic, really, how his visuals command Wenlang’s attention to linger. Every time Wenlang lays eyes on him, his entire periphery melt away until it’s just this… Not-Angel-person taking center stage. Wenlang forces his gaze away before pointing at him with his thumb.
“That can’t be Shaoyou.” Wenlang informs Gao Tu.
“Excuse me?” Not-Shaoyou says.
“I don’t know who that is but he’s clearly some omega model who got the wrong room number. Also, he doesn’t have Shaoyou’s gross toilet cleaner scent,” Wenlang deadpans. “Tutu, I promise—”
“Who’s a fucking omega?!” Not-Shaoyou interrupts.
“Shut up. I’m trying to talk to my husband,” Wenlang shoots back at him.
“You shut up! Stop acting like I’m not here!” Not-Shaoyou exclaims. “Also this is my soothing pheromones you ungrateful cunt.”
Wenlang does not spare him the light of day.
“Tutu, please don’t feel bad, I really only have eyes for you.”
“I don’t feel bad,” Gao Tu replies, his lips curling into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’ve taken a liking to Shaoyou. You guys worry A’Yong and I so much.”
“What?” Wenlang and Not-Shaoyou say in tandem, the first time they’ve been in agreement that day.
“Fuck no, this is not a liking,” Not-Shaoyou argues. “A’Tu don’t get this twisted. Wenlang’s clearly crazy and needs psychiatric evaluation.”
Wenlang merely turns to look at the man, all inhibitions gone. He still doesn’t think this gorgeous, gorgeous man can be Sheng Shaoyou. Sheng Shaoyou’s not this ravishing. Sheng Shaoyou has that perpetual scowl that’ll give him wrinkles 10 years earlier. Sheng Shaoyou is also annoying—which Wenlang supposes is a trait that this omega model and him have in common. All that’s to say, the next thing out of Wenlang’s mouth is:
“He’s way too beautiful to be Shaoyou. Have you seen him? Maybe he’s some idol.”
Wenlang pauses as another possibility slips into his mind: Maybe this entire thing is a hallucination. It does feel like there are literal rose coloured lenses framing Gao Tu’s face. And Wenlang can almost see the shitty shojo manga sparkles every time Gao Tu or Not-Shaoyou speaks.
Only one way to find out.
Reaching up, Wenlang cups Not-Shaoyou’s face and pinches his cheek between his thumb and index finger, eliciting a yelp from the man. Unsurprisingly, Wenlang’s hand gets smacked away.
“What the fuck are you trying to do?!” Not-Shaoyou yells at him.
“I knew it. Your skin is too soft to be real so you must be fake!” Wenlang declares confidently before looking back at his husband and faltering. As exquisite as this Gao Tu looks, Wenlang misses his real husband.
“I’m not fucking fake you idiot!” Not-Shaoyou exclaims, forcing Wenlang’s attention back on him. “And stop acting so weird! Obviously I’m Shaoyou. What other proof do you need?”
Rolling his eyes, Wenlang snaps back: “If you’re real, why’s there a halo of light around you? Explain that, asshole.”
“There’s no light around me!”
“Your voice also has the shitty time-slowing effect.” Wenlang continues. He really needs to stop tuning in on Gao Tu’s romance dramas if this is his hallucination. “That’s so stupid and unoriginal. I can think of ten dramas that do it better.”
Not-Shaoyou’s face is completely tinged in rosy hues now. “Y-You can’t just say things like that—” Not-Shaoyou pinches the bridge of his nose but Wenlang has a sneaking suspicion he just wants to cover his furiously blushing face. “Just shut the fuck up. Stop talking until a doctor comes to see you again.”
Wenlang reaches out to the other man, also too beautiful to be real, and tugs at his hand. “Tutu, are you my other guardian angel? You also have the pretty lights and sparkles.”
“Oh we’re back at this angel thing,” Not-Shaoyou comments.
A soft smile pulls at Gao Tu’s heart-shaped lips, making the resounding beeps of Wenlang’s pulse skyrocket. But instead of addressing Wenlang, Angel number 2 looks over to address Angel number 1.
“I think he’s high on the painkillers.”
“You think?”
“It’s sweet. He must really like you a lot.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Not-Shaoyou says just as Wenlang says: “No, I don’t. I’m loyal to my husband.”
Gao Tu finally turns to look at him, soft, wonderful eyes and all. “A’Lang, would it help if I told you we all agreed to be in a relationship?”
“Huh?”
“Please stop encouraging him,” Angel 1 says, to which Angel 2 promptly ignores.
“Six months ago we all moved in together,” Gao Tu reveals, which only confuses Wenlang further.
“So… you,” Wenlang points at Gao Tu. “And him,” Wenlang points at Not-Shaoyou. “Are together?”
“In a way,” Gao Tu says.
“That’s bad,” Wenlang blurts.
Angel 1 and Angel 2 share a concerned look before Gao Tu asks: “Why? Are you not okay with the arrangement?”
“You’re both so pretty. If you got together, the world would explode.”
Gao Tu chokes on a laugh. Not-Shaoyou splutters again before turning away such that Wenlang can no longer see his face. A pity, really, but before he can complain about it, Gao Tu leans in to press a kiss against Wenlang’s forehead, causing his brain to stop working for a solid ten seconds. The two angels converse again. Something like:
Angel 2: I have to go pick the kids up now. Glad to see he’s doing okay.
Angel 1: What?! A’Tu you cannot leave me alone with him. How about I pick the kids up?
Angel 2: I think this is a good opportunity for you guys to work things out.
Angel 1: There is nothing to work out.
Angel 2: Mm, okay, keep telling yourself that.
There’s more conversation, but Wenlang can only bring himself to stare and blink at the two otherworldly beings whilst stupid C-drama music starts playing in the background. Angel 1 is still frowning—in fact, he continues frowning all the way until Angel 2 exits the room (much to Wenlang’s dismay).
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” Mr Angel says, his voice dripping with resignation.
“You could be nice to me,” Wenlang whines, a slight pout pulling at his lips before he can stop it.
“What the—” Another sigh escapes the angel despite him scooting closer to Wenlang’s bed. “Stop that.” He demands. “Stop looking at me like a kicked dog.”
“Do you hate me?” Wenlang says, the question seemingly tumbling out of his mouth without his consent.
“No I don’t,” the angel replies.
“Then why are you so mean to me?”
The angel looks at him then, plush lips pressed into a fine line as his expression does some impressive callisthenics. Then, another sigh. “I’m not trying to be mean to you, Wenlang.”
“You won’t even hold my hand. The other angel held my hand.”
“Do you want me to hold your hand?”
Wenlang nods, resulting in the angel very awkwardly hesitating before reaching over the bed rails to take Wenlang’s hand. It’s nice. The angel’s hand is the same size as his, with slightly more slender fingers. Which means that when Wenlang entwines his fingers with the angel's, everything fits so perfectly it’s like puzzle pieces coming together.
“You’re blushing again,” Wenlang blurts when he looks back up at the angel.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Would it kill you to not curse at me?”
“Yes.”
A soft hum emits from Wenlang’s lips before he declares: “That’s okay. I think you’re very cute when you curse.”
Wenlang can practically hear the “???!!!” escape the angel as he instinctively pulls his hand away. Wenlang doesn’t let him, though, leading to him firmly tightening the lace of their fingers and dragging the angel closer to his bedside.
“... I take it back, I do hate you,” the angel mutters begrudgingly.
Wenlang merely brings the angel’s hand up to his cheek to nuzzle it. “Sure, whatever you say.” Closing his eyes, the world slowly falls away again, but this time, beneath the rhythmic beeps of Wenlang’s heart monitor, he hears a soft purr that pulls him to sleep like a lullaby.
“So you really don’t remember anything?” Shaoyou asks him, trying and failing to hide the slight hint of disappointment laced in his tone.
They’re in Wenlang’s office, three days after the incident. Gao Tu had insisted he take the week off, but deadlines wait for no one. Since Gao Tu was busy with HS Group’s numerous forum appearances, Shaoyou ended up being the one to check in on Wenlang every day during lunch. At first he was really weird with it, to the point Wenlang thought Shaoyou also had a concussion. Then Shaoyou cussed him out enough to convince him they were back to status quo.
But one question keeps getting brought up, and every time Shaoyou asks it, he looks at Wenlang with those pretty eyes of his that makes Wenlang feel like his chest is suddenly too tight.
“Uh,” Wenlang offers as he blinks up at Shaoyou from where he sits behind his desk. “No I don’t. Is there something you want me to remember?”
Shaoyou clicks his tongue before tossing a lunchbox on Wenlang’s desk. “No. Eat your lunch, Hua Yong made your favourite again. I have work to do.” Pivoting on his heel, Shaoyou then makes his way to the door as abruptly as he did the past three days in a row.
This time, Wenlang decides to stop him by quickly making a dash for the door and standing in front of it.
“Get out of my way,” Shaoyou demands, a frown already beginning to crease his brows.
“Something’s wrong,” Wenlang deduces.
“Nothing’s wrong. Now get, or do you want me to physically shove you?” Shaoyou threatens with a tilt of his head.
Wenlang sighs, long familiar with Shaoyou’s antics. The guy can never be direct. “What’s wrong, Shaoyou? What did I offend you with this time?”
“I said it’s nothing,” Shaoyou seethes, before attempting to push Wenlang aside only to be met with him stubbornly staying put and folding his arms.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I bring you lunch everyday.”
“I mean at home,” Wenlang clarifies.
Shaoyou raises a brow. “No I’m not. Stop being delusional and get out of my way.” Another shove, another block, resulting in Shaoyou sighing in frustration.
“I know you are avoiding me,” Wenlang refuses to back down. “So I am asking what is wrong.”
“Right now? You being an asshole,” Shaoyou snaps before checking his watch and flicking his hand in front of Wenlang in a gesture to demand that he scoot. “I have a meeting at 1pm. Let me get back to running my damn company ”
“You’re the one being an asshole,” Wenlang blurts.
“Me? I’m not the one that forgot.”
“So there was something you wanted me to remember!”
“Well there’s no fucking point talking about it since you didn’t!”
See? The guy can never be direct. Wenlang lets out another sigh. “Can you tell me what I forgot?”
Crimson hues dust Shaoyou’s cheeks for just a moment before he scoffs. “It’s not important.”
“Clearly it is since you’re so bothered about it.” Wenlang argues, stepping forward and indirectly forcing Shaoyou a step back.
“I’m not bothered about it,” Shaoyou defends. Step forward, step back, it’s almost like a dance of sorts, and Shaoyou’s losing. Out of desperation, he tries to sidestep Wenlang to get to the door only to be caught by the wrist.
“What the fuck is your problem?!” Shaoyou exclaims.
“I don’t know! You won’t tell me!”
A sharp slap ricochets across Wenlang's office as pain explodes against the side of his cheek. But before he can even react, Shaoyou has fisted Wenlang’s shirt and dragged him forward such that they’re kissing. A surprised yelp from Wenlang gets muffled by it, and that’s all it takes for Shaoyou to shove Wenlang away and walk towards the door.
“Shaoyou…” Wenlang calls after him, eliciting no response at all. Spurring to action, he makes a dash to grab the other alpha and push him against the wall.
“What the—” is all Shaoyou manages to get out before Wenlang surges forward to press their lips together in a proper kiss this time. Warmth pools between them as Wenlang purposefully pins Shaoyou’s wrists against the wall to hold him in place. Shaoyou tries to fight it, but Wenlang quickly deepens the kiss and drags a soft whine out of the other. The soothing scent of irises begins to flood his office as Shaoyou writhes in place.
Always so resistant, Wenlang thinks before hooking his fingers between Shaoyou’s and pressing their bodies flush against each other. A gasp escapes the other man, the softness of it going straight to Wenlang’s head. It’s magic. Every breathless sound that escapes Shaoyou spurs Wenlang to take, and take, and take until both their pulses are racing so fast he can hear it in his eardrums. When they finally break apart, Wenlang can’t help but stare at the artpiece that is Shaoyou’s face.
Shaoyou clicks his tongue, refusing to meet Wenlang’s gaze. “I’ll see you at home.” He tries to brush past Wenlang again, but Wenlang catches him—by the waist this time—prompting him to halt in his tracks.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Wenlang demands. This close, he can see each individual eyelash and count them like stars in the sky. Still, Shaoyou refuses to look at him. Even pushes him away with a hand to the chest. Wenlang tries a different angle: “Why did you kiss me?”
Shaoyou tenses slightly, his shoulders stiffening before mumbling a string of intelligible words.
“What?” Wenlang blurts, leaning in to try and make out Shaoyou’s words before:
“When you first woke up you said— and I thought…” Shaoyou can’t bring himself to continue. Scoffing, he steps back and pointedly pries the other off him. “Fuck it. Let’s just not talk about this anymore.”
“Shaoyou,” Wenlang pleads again.
Another click of the tongue resounds as Shaoyou snaps towards him. “You called me pretty, okay?!”
“Oh,” Wenlang mumbles, more of a filler word than anything as the implication processes in his mind.
Beneath the fluorescent office lights gleam, Wenlang takes a second look at his companion and agrees with the sentiment. He might think Shaoyou’s a bitch but he also has eyes. Shaoyou is beautiful in the way autumn is breathtaking. There’s something about him that commands the attention of others to linger. Perhaps it is the way he carries himself. Perhaps it is just that his lashes are so long and his jaw is so sharp. His lips are one shade more vibrant that one would think. His irises are coloured with that deep brown that reminds Wenlang of earth and bronze.
“That’s it?” Shaoyou snaps, his voice dragging Wenlang back to the present.
“I mean, you are pretty,” Wenlang deadpans as if he’s saying the sky is blue or grass is green. “Why’s that surprising? I just think you’re also a bitch.”
“You—!” Shaoyou fumes, his fingers curling into a fist as if ready to give Wenlang a piece of his mind. “I hate you so much.”
“No you don’t,” Wenlang muses as he heads back to his desk, just glad this whole debacle has been addressed. “Since you mentioned you have a meeting, you better get going. Happy running your company, President Sheng.”
“Fuck you,” Shaoyou scowls before stalking off to the door. “I hope your day’s shit.”
Wenlang sighs, relishing in the final echo of Shaoyou’s voice before he slams the door behind him.