Chapter Text
There's fire under Xiao Xingchen's eyelids. He knows he should be used to the spotlights and the cameras flashing in his direction by now, but it's been so many hours of this. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, or perhaps the layers of makeup sticking to his skin. He's terribly aware of the colored contacts drying out his eyes, like sand against his eyelids every time he blinks. Still, he smiles.
"Zichen, do you have my eyedrops?" Xiao Xingchen asks, turning around on his seat and looking up at the man standing close to him.
Song Lan is like a fortress at his back, standing tall and strong and unmovable. Right now, they’re the only people on the stage, and every pair of eyes is on Xiao Xingchen. The brightly lit auditorium looks back at him, wide camera lenses following his every move. The next person in line waits by a small set of stairs that are no longer than five steps, expecting a sign that indicates he’s ready for them. Waiting to get closer to Xiao Xingchen.
He would rather keep his eyes on Song Lan.
His personal bodyguard (and often his chauffeur, his cook, and—maybe even his friend?) fishes inside his suit for the small bottle. Xiao Xingchen watches as Song Lan uncaps it and closes the small distance between them, quiet and efficient as usual.
"Look up," Song Lan says, one big hand cradling Xiao Xingchen’s skull.
Xiao Xingchen throws his head back and tries not to blink until he feels the wetness hit his eyeballs. It’s not hard — Xiao Xingchen is very good at keeping perfectly still. Years in this business had made sure of that. He knows better than to show it to his fans, though. Even the small amount of human flaws he allows them to see is perfectly calculated. Xiao Xingchen flinches and pretends to blink as Song Lan squeezes another drop into his eyes.
His clumsy act is rewarded with "Aww’s" and "Ooh’s" from his audience. He can hear them giggling, whispering about the closeness between the two of them. "Idols and their bodyguards" had always been a trending topic, and Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan had quite a bit of appearances in those video compilations.
Xiao Xingchen can hear the cameras clicking, can feel the phones turning to him, pressing record. He almost looks forward to the fans’ imaginative theories about what exactly goes on between him and Song Lan. Xiao Xingchen throws a mischievous look at Song Lan, silently apologizing for involving him in this. The eyes looking back at him are gentle and indulgent.
"Maybe in another life," Xiao Xingchen thinks, holding Song Lan’s gaze for a heartbeat longer than it would be proper. All the more fuel to his fans.
"Thank you," Xiao Xingchen says, drying the corner of his eyes with the tissue Song Lan offers him. Their fingers brush for a second, and warmth spreads through Xiao Xingchen’s worn out body when he notices Song Lan doesn’t mind, doesn't flinch or pull away from his touch. They have come a long way since Xiao Xingchen’s debut, three years ago.
Xiao Xingchen signals for the next fan to finally come up.
When they sit in front of him, Xiao Xingchen mirrors their smile, reaches for his black marker, and takes yet another album to sign. He’s not used to tending to so many people on the same day. This is a lot different from the small events A-Qing used to run for him, little gatherings with a few dozen people inside a crammed café, for his debut anniversary or birthdays.
He would never admit it to anyone, much less mention this to her, but Xiao Xingchen was still upset that A-Qing couldn’t come today. He scanned the crowd more than once looking for at least one more familiar face, but it was mostly camera lenses and phones pointed at him. He was happy for the outcome, he really was. Having a new, wider audience was good. Tonight is only the fanmeeting, and at least for that, he has Song Lan’s reassuring presence behind him.
"Time’s up," Song Lan says, only loud enough for Xiao Xingchen and the chatty fan sitting in front of him to hear.
"I’m sorry," Xiao Xingchen says, his eyes never leaving the person sitting in front of him. "We’ll have plenty of opportunities to meet this week. Are you coming to the broadcast tomorrow?"
The rehearsed phrases roll off the tip of Xiao Xingchen’s tongue with ease.
All through the evening, he heard accounts from fans telling him about how hard it was to even get a seat in tonight’s fanmeeting. Each album contained a number, and only those who won the lottery were able to join. Xiao Xingchen knew how these things worked — it wasn’t unusual for a single person to buy dozens of albums looking for that winning ticket. This, of course, boosted album sales. The more album sales, the higher Xiao Xingchen placed on the charts. And the bigger the chance to win first place at a public music broadcast.
Xiao Xingchen’s company put all of their savings into this comeback. It looked as if it was about to be the most successful one yet, but that wasn’t saying much. Still, Xiao Xingchen felt overwhelmed when the company’s president told him he had sold out the tickets for his showcase. All three thousand of them.
In just one week, he’d be face to face with that many people. He had no idea his fanbase was this big. Just the thought of someone traveling from faraway cities and spending that much money just to see him. It was insane, almost incomprehensible. It all felt like one big prank, seconds away from bursting in his face.
"Xingchen," Song Lan’s voice rings close to him.
Xiao Xingchen blinks the reminiscent thoughts away. "I’m fine," he answers quietly, and calls to the next fan. Their faces were starting to mix together, blending into a single smiling, devoted expression. It makes his stomach twist, but it still beats staring down at his own face printed on those albums. After they walk away, Xiao Xingchen releases the breath he didn’t notice he was holding.
"Do you need a break before the next group?" Song Lan asks as soon as the fan goes off the stage, back to their place.
Xiao Xingchen looks back, considers for a moment. "No, it’s okay. Just send them in," he says. Better to get it over with, he thinks, the muscles in his face twitching in another practiced smile.
After doing this for a while, Xiao Xingchen found that looking up at the fans while they awkwardly walked in his direction often made them uncomfortable. So instead of doing that, Xiao Xingchen would wait for the next fan while looking down at the small table, pretending to organize his gifts, or checking himself in the mirror. Sometimes, he would look back at the audience and pose for pictures.
He’s not looking when the next fan approaches, and the first thing he sees are two hands, reaching for him.
Most fans were hesitant about touching Xiao Xingchen. They said he had an aura about him, like this mythical, celestial being. Like he was the bright moon in the sky. A-Qing had named his fanclub "stardust," after the characters in his name. That, too, made his skin prickle with embarrassment.
He was even described as "ethereal" once or twice. It didn’t sound like him at all, but he had no intentions of discussing that with his fans. Whatever they needed him to be, that is what he would become.
To touch him, to reach out for him with both their hands, is something not everyone was willing to do. But it did happen, once in a blue moon. And on those occasions, like right now, Xiao Xingchen would always reach back. How could he not?
Xiao Xingchen was holding both those hands, one of them partially covered by a black glove, before he even got a look at the person sitting across from him. He could already feel the warmth of physical contact creeping up from the tips of his fingers to every inch of his body. And then he looked up.
The person staring back at him was a boy. Xiao Xingchen was aware they were probably close in age, but that is what he was.
A boy.
Eyes shining with a malicious gleam, sharp canines bared in a wicked smile, yet the messy hair and the high ponytail gave him a playful air of innocence. There was something magnetic about him, a boyish charm disguising something more treacherous. Like staring down the open jaws of a predator, wondering what it’d be like to jump in.
"Nice to meet you," he says, voice sweet and syrupy, sticking to his tongue with every word.
He doesn’t let go of Xiao Xingchen’s hands. He sets them comfortably on the table, and holds them as if they had known each other for a long time, as if this wasn't their first meeting.
"Have we met before?" Xiao Xingchen asks. The boy doesn’t avert his eyes, and Xiao Xingchen holds his smiling gaze. Before he can stop himself, his lips are curling upwards too.
He gives Xiao Xingchen’s hands a little squeeze. "No, I don’t think so. I’m a new fan," he says.
"Oh," Xiao Xingchen says. "Did you have a hard time getting here? I heard the lottery was quite fierce."
"No," he says, sharp canines flashing when he smiles wider. "I got in on my first try."
He slips his hands away and Xiao Xingchen remembers he was supposed to be signing the album. The glossy paper and the black marker feel surprisingly cold on his fingers.
"How lucky," Xiao Xingchen says. "Thank you for coming today. Who am I signing to?"
"The name’s Xue Yang," he says.
"Xue Yang," Xiao Xingchen repeats, absently minded. He likes the way the name sounds on his lips.
Xiao Xingchen opens the album booklet on the bookmarked page.
"Interesting choice of picture," he says, carefully peeling off the post-it on the page. Xue Yang picked a photo that showed Xiao Xingchen inside an empty bathtub, fully clothed, leaning his head against one of the sides, his long hair slipping off of it. The dark blue tiles gave the picture a cold glow, and Xiao Xingchen thought he almost looked like a corpse.
Xiao Xingchen still feels Xue Yang’s eyes on him while he writes his name on the page and adds in the autograph. "For a very lucky boy," Xiao Xingchen scribbles on the paper. He slides the photobook to Xue Yang and lifts his eyes to him, waiting for his reaction.
Xue Yang reads it aloud, a languid smile spreading across his lips. Xiao Xingchen can’t help but smile at him too.
"I think I used up all my good fortune getting here," Xue Yang says. "And you know how bad luck always comes in threes," he looks up behind Xiao Xingchen, to where he knows Song Lan is still standing.
Xue Yang’s hands come up over his again. He feels the soft caress when Xue Yang runs his thumb over his skin. If he wasn’t so in control of the way he portrayed his emotions, maybe Xiao Xingchen would even blush.
"Are you from around here?" Xiao Xingchen asks. He was so used to making small talk with his fans, the moment he tries to think of something actually interesting to say, nothing comes up.
There's something mysterious about the way Xue Yang smiles at him. "Only when Xiao Xingchen gege is promoting his latest album," Xue Yang says.
Something about the way Xue Yang says "gege" in that menacing tone does it for Xiao Xingchen. Before he can stop himself, he's taken over by a laughing fit. Xiao Xingchen covers his mouth in a quick reflex, and for that brief second he sees something shining in Xue Yang's eyes. Something nearly dangerous, like a greedy, hungry animal. Xiao Xingchen should probably be scared, but he isn't.
Xiao Xingchen feels like Xue Yang can almost hear his thoughts. And if he did, he'd know Xiao Xingchen wouldn't mind being eaten alive by that charming stranger.
Song Lan's voice is like an anchor, falling heavy and flat in that charged moment. "Time's up," he says in an imposing voice. Xiao Xingchen startles in his chair, letting go of Xue Yang's hands slowly. It's almost like he finally realized what was happening, and was caught in the middle of doing something bad.
Xue Yang's eyes immediately snap upwards, looking at Song Lan with contempt in his eyes, like he was something nasty on the bottom of his shoe. He lets the mean stare linger for a moment, and Xiao Xingchen is so amused. Xue Yang proceeds to ignore Song Lan, turning his attention back to Xiao Xingchen. Right away, his expression softens. He picks something up from under his chair and hands it to Xiao Xingchen.
"I got you a gift, will you open it later?" Xue Yang says, handing him an expensive looking paper bag.
Xiao Xingchen nods and smiles.
"Alright, that's enough," Song Lan says, his voice just a little bit louder, a little bit harder than usual. Xiao Xingchen sees from the corner of his eyes when Song Lan takes a step closer in Xue Yang's direction.
Xiao Xingchen raises his hand in a delicate motion. It immediately stops Song Lan on his tracks. A lazy smile appears on Xue Yang’s face, and he leans back on his chair, relaxing his body again.
"Just give us a second," Xiao Xingchen says, apologetically. He turns back to Xue Yang, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Are you coming to the broadcast tomorrow?" Xiao Xingchen asks, and this time he's actually curious. His mind forgets about his next schedule or appointment, and starts wondering when he will be able to see Xue Yang again. For a second, he feels like their roles are reversed.
The smile never leaves Xue Yang’s lips. He bats his eyes slowly, stares at Xiao Xingchen like he’s considering his answer. Like he’s wondering if Xiao Xingchen has earned it.
Xue Yang starts getting up from his chair. "Yeah, we’ll meet again," he says. He looks up at Song Lan, and then he winks at him.
Xiao Xingchen can practically hear Song Lan’s blood boiling. Xue Yang walks away slowly, Xiao Xingchen catches the faint sound of his laughter and it makes him laugh too. The warmth on his hands, from where they were holding Xue Yang’s, starts to fade. But there’s another type of warmth spreading from somewhere inside his chest, making it feel lighter somehow.
***
Walking out of the venue after saying one last goodbye to his fans, Xiao Xingchen is totally distracted. He can’t stop thinking about the way Xue Yang looked at him. He tries to remember his face, but all he sees is Xue Yang’s mouth, his rosy lips, his sharp teeth, and soon enough he’s thinking about those same canines sinking into his skin.
It was so different from the way Song Lan looks at him. Even now, Song Lan keeps his eyes averted.
Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan walk silently through the private garage, to where the car is parked. Xiao Xingchen has both his hands busy carrying numerous bags, big and small, gifted to him by his fans. Normally, Xiao Xingchen’s manager would also have accompanied him to this schedule, to oversee things and help him out. But, short staffed as they were, Jin Guangyao was probably busy tending to one of the other idols signed to the same company.
Song Lan is good at taking up the functions of several staff members, though. He unlocks the car, carefully places the bags in the back and holds the passenger door open for Xiao Xingchen.
Xiao Xingchen knows there are probably fans still nearby, but even if they were completely alone, Song Lan would still be courteous and disciplined. It doesn’t matter how tired he feels, Xiao Xingchen keeps a straight posture and a calm expression. The fact that someone might still be watching keeps him on his toes. Most of the time, he just has to assume he has eyes on him. That way, he would never be caught slipping.
Once they are in the car, hidden behind tinted windows, locked and safe in that contained space, Xiao Xingchen lets himself crumble. All the socializing had worn him out. He’s almost thankful his company is too small to hire more people — it’s just him and Song Lan now.
"Good job today," Xiao Xingchen says, closing his eyes.
The car engine starts running, the AC hits him, and Xiao Xingchen visibly shivers. It was still early spring, the weather just starting to warm up, but his stylists never had him wearing enough clothes. His concept this time around was supposed to be flowy and light and dreamlike, all thin fabrics, mostly see through. Xiao Xingchen was under the impression they were trying to save up on that front too.
Xiao Xingchen puts his arms around his body and Song Lan turns off the AC.
"Are you cold?" Song Lan asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead taking off his own jacket while the car warms up. "Here," he says, already helping Xiao Xingchen put it on.
While Xiao Xingchen adjusts the much too big jacket on himself, Song Lan moves closer, reaching out for something in the back seat. He comes back with a thick, fluffy blanket in his hands. It is small, just enough to cover Xiao Xingchen’s legs, but Song Lan sets it gently over his lap, tucking it around his thighs slightly.
"Thank you, Zichen," Xiao Xingchen says. He can’t help smiling fondly at Song Lan, now that he is warm and comfortable again.
The jacket smells like Song Lan. Xiao Xingchen knows this, because in the next moment Song Lan is leaning over him, getting a little closer than Xiao Xingchen knows Song Lan is comfortable with, to help him with the seatbelt.
"Excuse me," Song Lan says, so close that Xiao Xingchen can feel the soft breath hitting his skin. His expression is calm and relaxed, but Xiao Xingchen knows Song Lan would tense up if he reached for him. He almost wants to do it, just to see him flinch. In the contained space of the car, Song Lan wouldn’t have anywhere to run to.
The seatbelt clicks into place, and Song Lan pulls away, looking down at Xiao Xingchen’s face for the briefest moment.
Xiao Xingchen’s fingertips are still tingling when Song Lan takes the car out of the garage, through the city streets at night. He drives smoothly, and Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes again. He misses being touched, can still feel the way Xue Yang’s fingers lingered on his skin, how well their hands fit together. How he wouldn’t let go, even after they ran out of time.
Everything feels so out of his reach. Xiao Xingchen feels something like greed slowly start to take root inside him, spreading from the same warm place inside his chest. Like weeds that keep growing no matter how many times you pull them out.
Xiao Xingchen slips his hand under the blanket, between his thighs, and lets out a small sigh.
***
The company has them check in to a fancy hotel, closer to the center of the city where Xiao Xingchen is spending most of his week doing promotions. Less commute time, Jin Guangyao told them, as if he wasn’t half responsible for setting his dorm in an apartment in the outskirts of the city, almost in the next town over.
The president probably had to offer some favors in exchange for putting them in such an expensive place, and Xiao Xingchen, not so used to this type of luxury, would take advantage of this opportunity to the fullest.
When they enter the two bedroom suite, Xiao Xingchen wants nothing more than to take a long shower. Maybe use up all the hot water in the hotel. He knows he can’t — hot water is bad for his sensitive skin and all that — but he soaks under the powerful water stream for a little longer than usual. He can indulge himself that much.
By the time Xiao Xingchen leaves the bathroom, his skin is flushed in a healthy pink and the tips of his fingers are wrinkly. By the time he finishes going through multiple steps of his skin and hair care routine, he finally feels like himself again.
He’s still in the fluffy white robe, white towel over his damp hair, when Song Lan knocks on the door that separates the two halves of the suite.
"Zichen," Xiao Xingchen says, making space on the bed and patting the space next to him.
The bed is probably big enough for three people, but it’s been taken over by a small mountain of gifts, letters, plushies of mascot characters, paper bags with expensive brands printed on them. Xiao Xingchen has kept every single thing his fans have ever given him. Song Lan had called him a hoarder before, but he couldn’t help it. It probably came from growing up in a minimalistic environment, and being taught that attachment was pain. The truth is, Xiao Xingchen loves owning things.
"We need to be at the shop for your makeup and hair appointment at six," Song Lan says, checking his phone where Xiao Xingchen’s schedule was probably on screen. "And that’s in the A.M," he says, when Xiao Xingchen starts pleading with his eyes.
"Can’t we open the gifts first?" Xiao Xingchen asks.
Song Lan seems to consider it for a moment, but Xiao Xingchen sees the way his body is already leaning forward, inside more than outside. Ready to fall into whatever Xiao Xingchen was pulling him into.
Xiao Xingchen hands Song Lan the first bag. He feels like a child on his birthday, except even kids could open their own gifts, whereas Xiao Xingchen cannot. Jin Guangyao made the rule very clear after Xiao Xingchen got attacked: everything must go through Song Lan first. If someone were to send him a letter filled with some type of poisonous powder again, it would be Song Lan’s eyes nearly being blinded.
Xiao Xingchen still remembers how it stung.
He also remembers the expression on Song Lan’s face — fear, and then furious anger.
Now, every time Song Lan opens one of his gifts, Xiao Xingchen’s heart takes a small leap. It’s gonna happen again, he thinks. He’s going to get hurt because of me. But Song Lan’s hands never flinch, not even for a second.
And soon, the pile of wrapped gifts is getting smaller and smaller.
Xiao Xingchen gets distracted reading one of the letters when he feels the bed shifting slightly. Song Lan’s posture suddenly turns rigid, uncomfortable. Xiao Xingchen turns and sees the bag he was digging into — big, expensive looking, a soothing tone of cream with golden highlights. Xue Yang’s gift, he remembers.
"Let me see," Xiao Xingchen says, urging Song Lan to inspect it faster.
Song Lan has a small box in his hands, carved out of dark, slick wood. Xiao Xingchen can hear something jingling inside. When he sees a light flush spreading on Song Lan’s face, he gets even more curious.
"What is it? Is it bad?" Xiao Xingchen asks.
Song Lan finally hands him the package. "Just see for yourself," he says.
There is nothing to fear once Song Lan clears it for him, but Xiao Xingchen’s heart still runs a little faster when he slips his hand inside and his fingers brush something light and silky. He holds the delicate fabric between his fingers, and it nearly slips away to the bottom of the bag again. Xiao Xingchen decides to turn the contents directly over the bed, and his breath catches in his throat when they come out.
The fabric is so light, it’s see through. It is long, and there’s a lot of it. The pearly white color shimmers under the warm lights in the room, and Xiao Xingchen can see some of the details embroidered in the fabric. They look like frost patterns. A thin, silky belt holds the whole thing together. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t think twice before standing up on the mattress and holding it in front of him, measuring the length.
It reached from the curve of his shoulders to the arch of his heels, perfectly.
"I think you’re supposed to wear it over the other stuff," Song Lan says, in a barely audible voice.
Xiao Xingchen looks down at him and sees the blush spreading to his ears.
Xiao Xingchen’s body's still warm from the shower, and growing warmer now. He suddenly becomes aware that he is still naked from it, under the bathrobe.
"Oh," Xiao Xingchen says, looking over the small pile of trinkets on the bed, from where he picked up the white silky robe. He sits down again, and starts going through them one by one.
He finishes unpacking the rest of the lingerie set. Lacy panties, stockings and a corset. See through, embroidered with matching patterns, barely visible threads. All lace, all in white. Light, feathery, and laced with a sweet fragrance that wafts into the room. The whole set was an elaborate piece. Xiao Xingchen looks over some small, strappy item, tries to figure out what those small clips are for, and gives up halfway.
He is somewhat used to getting items of clothing, but nothing quite so… revealing. Still, he can't shake the feeling that, if he were to try these on, everything would fit him as if it were sewn onto his body.
They were made for him.
"They're so pretty," Xiao Xingchen says, running his hand over the sheer silk of the stockings. Compared to the cheap, itchy and ill fitting stage outfits his company often came up with, he bets these would feel amazing on his skin.
For now, it doesn't even occur to Xiao Xingchen to try them on. These are to have, not to wear.
And then he remembers they are not all of it. "The box," he says, pulling out the bag again.
His final gift. The box is heavy in his hands, and when he opens it, Xiao Xingchen's eyes grow in size. He has a love for things that sparkled. The golden chains are connected in intricate ways, a smaller one that gives way to a longer chain, where another set is attached. He assumes they'd go around his throat, falling over his belly and looping again around his waist.
Xiao Xingchen bites his lips and shifts on the bed. When he pulls out the jewelry set from the box, he notices something's still there. One last golden item — a small choker, made out of three thin golden chains held together by a small dangling pendant, a round and clear stone. When Xiao Xingchen takes a closer look, understanding hits him.
It’s the moon. So detailed, he can see the faint shape of a rabbit on the front.
Xiao Xingchen huffs out a laugh. Despite everything, he is still the bright moon in someone's sky.
"If that will be all," Song Lan says, making no move to get up or leave the room.
Xiao Xingchen snaps his head in his direction. "Wait," he says. "Won't you help me put it on?"
He hands Song Lan the choker, pleased by the tinkling sound of the chains. Xiao Xingchen opens the collar of his bathrobe slightly, exposing the flushed skin of his chest, his collarbones. He pulls his hair to the side, leaving his neck visible. Song Lan follows every movement with his eyes. Xiao Xingchen can see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down when Song Lan dry swallows and moves in his direction, into his personal space.
Song Lan's fingers graze the nape of his neck. Xiao Xingchen's skin is buzzing when the cold jewelry touches him, falling seamlessly over his neck. The fit is snug, perfect. The tiny moon stone feels like a comfortable weight, resting on the hollow of his throat.
"Do I look good?" Xiao Xingchen asks.
A weary sigh escapes Song Lan's lips. "It suits you," he says.
***
Long after Song Lan leaves the room, Xiao Xingchen can't bring himself to go to bed. He's cleared half of it for himself — the other half is still covered in stuffed toys and pretty gifts. He lies down on his side, rolling the tiny moon between his fingers, admiring all of his new and shiny things. But his mind is still restless.
For the second time that night, he pulls the carved wooden box closer and opens it to admire its contents. While he's running his fingers through the jewelry, something stirs inside him. Before he can stop himself, he's loosening his bathrobe and slipping it off his shoulders.
There's a mirror on the other side of the room, close to the door that leads to Song Lan's part of the suite. The plush carpet muffles his steps, but he walks on the tips of his toes anyway. Xiao Xingchen can't shake the feeling that what he's doing is wrong, but if anything that only makes him want to do it more.
After fiddling with the chains for a moment, Xiao Xingchen takes a look at his own reflection. He likes the way the chains fall over his chest, going down his navel and circling the most narrow part of his waist, right above his ribcage. His chest rises and falls just a little bit faster, and the gold catches in the light of the room, glittering with his every movement.
Xiao Xingchen wishes someone could see him right now. What would be Song Lan's reaction if he walked into his room, in nothing but his underwear and body jewelry? Would he finally look at Xiao Xingchen with the same hunger Xue Yang had in his eyes? He quickly glances under the door for any signs that Song Lan might still be awake. All that leaks from under it is darkness.
He feels something bitter going up his throat, until he can taste it on his tongue. Suddenly, the hotel suite — thrice as big as his dorm room — feels too small. The air is stale, suffocating. He needs to get out.
Xiao Xingchen throws a coat over his bare chest, still adorned in gold. Slips on a pair of trousers and some shoes, swipes his key card and prays that Song Lan doesn't hear the sound. And then he's out the door, heading for the elevator.
It's already late into the night, and if the few people he finds on his way to the lobby know who he is, they are discreet enough to not let anything on.
Xiao Xingchen finds the common area in the hotel's first floor. There's a few people lounging around in comfortable looking chairs, some drinking by a dimly lit corner closer to the bar, some making calls in hushed voices. None of them pay Xiao Xingchen any attention. He clings to his coat, feeling the jewelry digging into his skin, and holds on to it harder.
Xiao Xingchen stands in the cold night air, looking up at the many buildings in the maze that is the city's skyline. He stands there, trying to find something real in the sky, until the tip of his nose and fingers are freezing. He sees nothing.
The city is much too bright. Even the moon becomes invisible from here.
When the fog inside Xiao Xingchen's mind clears, he makes his way to the nearest elevator. He's still outside, in a partially covered area, and there's someone standing there, waiting. Xiao Xingchen sees him, surrounded by a small cloud of smoke, a cigarette lit between two fingers.
When he turns around and takes another drag, the cherry of his cigarette lights up his eyes with a reddish flame. Predatory eyes, looking up at Xiao Xingchen in the dark.
Xue Yang smiles and there's still smoke coming out of his curled lips. He presses the button and calls the elevator. "Going up?" he asks.
"What are you doing here?" Xiao Xingchen asks back, when really, what he wants to ask is if Xue Yang had followed him here.
The feeling that Xue Yang knows exactly what he's thinking hits him again, as if they were still sitting facing each other inside the fanmeeting venue.
"Same thing as you," Xue Yang says, making a motion to offer Xiao Xingchen his cigarette. Xiao Xingchen just lets his hand hang in the air, poised and pretty. Xue Yang takes another long drag, then turns his face, keeping Xiao Xingchen away from the smoke. "I'm here for work," he says.
Xiao Xingchen's eyes catch the numbers on the elevator visor when they start going down. "Oh," he says. "That's a weird coincidence."
"Is it?" Xue Yang says, letting out a sharp laugh. "You don't believe me? Maybe I'm one of those crazy stalkers," Xue Yang says, shifting his weight between his feet.
Xiao Xingchen laughs. "No, I believe you," he says. "No one would check into a luxury hotel and then stand in the cold just to catch me in my pyjamas."
Xue Yang's eyes narrow. "You sell yourself too short, gege. I know of at least a few people who'd be willing to do it," Xue Yang says, playfully.
Now that they are both standing, Xiao Xingchen can see that he has a few inches on Xue Yang. Still, when he catches Xue Yang staring at the jewelry visible from the collar of his coat, Xiao Xingchen almost feels cornered. Before they can hear the ding of the elevator arriving, Xue Yang is putting out his cigarette and shoving what was left of it in the back pocket of his ripped jeans.
Xue Yang doesn't have a jacket on, but he doesn't look cold either. Xiao Xingchen wonders if his hands are still warm.
The elevator doors slide open and the warm interior light hits them. Xue Yang looks different than he did at the fanmeeting earlier that day. He looks more professional now, less casual if Xiao Xingchen ignores the ripped knees of his pants. Xiao Xingchen tries to ignore the several buttons open around Xue Yang's collar, exposing surprisingly delicate collarbones, and fails. The black shirt against his olive skin is such a nice contrast.
"You're staring, gege," Xue Yang says. He pretends to be self conscious about it, but his eyes are gleaming with mischief.
Even at opposite ends of the elevator, they are still close. This one is much smaller than the ones inside the lobby, and while standing here, with his feet almost touching Xue Yang's, there isn’t much else to look at.
"I'm sorry," Xiao Xingchen says. He moves his eyes up to Xue Yang's face. Xue Yang bats his eyelashes at him, and he can't tell which color his eyes are. They almost seem to glimmer golden in this light. Sparkly and pretty, like all of Xiao Xingchen's favorite things.
Xiao Xingchen feels a sudden thump in his knees. He can't tell how long the elevator had been going up, but there's an audible ding and the doors are opening again.
"Well, this is my floor," Xue Yang says, still looking up at him. He makes a slight motion to leave the metal box they had just been trapped together inside, when Xiao Xingchen's hand moves on its own to hold him by the elbow.
Xue Yang doesn't even try to contain the knowing smile spreading from his eyes to his lips. It makes Xiao Xingchen want to do something he is sure to regret later. Xue Yang is like a beautiful mistake, a trainwreck waiting to happen. Xiao Xingchen knows this could ruin him. Idols have lost their entire careers for less.
But Xiao Xingchen needs this. He wants it.
"Wait," He says.
"Come over for a quick drink," he says, knowing fully well his room is not equipped with anything but soda or water. "I don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight anyway."
At least that last part was true.
Xue Yang stares back at him for just long enough to make Xiao Xingchen start to reconsider. But before he can start spiraling, Xue Yang speaks.
"Okay," he says, his voice low and sweet.
The elevator ride to the top floors feels like an eternity. Xiao Xingchen stares at the patterns on the floor, and Xue Yang stares at him. In his mind, he feels himself slowly losing his grasp on reality. Xiao Xingchen, the rising idol, the promise of the current generation, going up to his room with — a fan? It doesn't make sense. But then again, not many things in Xiao Xingchen's life do.
"They really put you way at the top, huh," Xue Yang comments, when they finally arrive at the suite.
Xiao Xingchen finally looks back at him, his heart racing a little. "Apparently my new assistant made these arrangements," he says. "I haven't met them yet."
His hand hangs close to the lock on the door for a second. He thinks about Song Lan sleeping inside, about the bed half covered in fan gifts. He's still perfectly aware of the choker clinging to his throat like a caress, and of the gentle grasp of the jewelry around his waist.
There was no going back now. "Come in," he says, unlocking the door for Xue Yang.
There's a brief moment when Xiao Xingchen slips his shoes off, and Xue Yang does the same, and they are still standing by the front door of the room. Xue Yang looks up at Xiao Xingchen, takes a small step in his direction, and suddenly his hands are on him. Xue Yang holds Xiao Xingchen's face with a softness that is almost unbearable. He breathes in once, so close to Xiao Xingchen's lips, and waits for him to close the distance between them.
Xiao Xingchen kisses him. Slowly at first, surprised by how soft Xue Yang's lips feel against his. And then all at once, the kisses deepens. There's still a tenderness to it when Xue Yang runs his hand from Xiao Xingchen's cheek to his neck, his fingers grazing the golden choker, then Xiao Xingchen's skin.
"You put it on," Xue Yang says against Xiao Xingchen's lips, and then offers his tongue to him.
The kiss gets messier, filthier. Xiao Xingchen half moans an answer when he pulls away, only far enough to catch his breath. His mind is so completely blissed out. Xiao Xingchen looks down at Xue Yang, and his face is flushed pink, lips shiny with spit, pupils huge with want and need.
"Let me see," Xue Yang says, one finger already pinching the top buttons of Xiao Xingchen's coat open.
Xiao Xingchen glances around the room once. "We have to be quiet," he says, but doesn't move Xue Yang's hand away.
Xue Yang follows his eyes, moves his head to have a full look at the room, like he was trying to find someone else hidden beside the bed or in the bathroom. "Is someone else here?"
For all the money the company put into accommodations, they couldn't have given him and Song Lan different rooms. Xiao Xingchen wouldn't have wanted that, anyway, and Song Lan would have refused, claiming it would only make his job harder.
"My bodyguard is in the next room," Xiao Xingchen says.
"I can be quiet," Xue Yang says, his fingers popping yet another button open. His eyes are no longer locked onto Xiao Xingchen's face, instead there's a barely contained excitement on his face that Xiao Xingchen can only recognize as the one he gets when he's about to open a new gift. Something pretty, something shiny, something just for him.
They stumble their way to the bed, limbs tangling together, and soon enough Xue Yang's lips are on his skin again. Xiao Xingchen's coat comes off, and he's sitting by the edge of the bed, Xue Yang between his legs, still in his clothes.
"Fuck," Xue Yang says, putting some distance between them, like he was at an abstract art show trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "You are so fucking —" His hands ghost over Xiao Xingchen's torso where the jewelry rests against his flushed skin. He almost looks scared to touch him, like Xiao Xingchen might evaporate and disappear in front of him.
"Touch me," Xiao Xingchen says, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. The way Xue Yang’s eyes never leave him, traveling from his chest to his mouth to his obvious erection, make Xiao Xingchen's head spin.
Xue Yang doesn't wait for him to ask again. He climbs on top of Xiao Xingchen's body, pushing him down on the bed with his legs still dangling off the mattress. Xue Yang straddles his lap, and starts grinding against him. Xiao Xingchen bites down the sound that threatens to leave his throat, but an embarrassing little whimper makes its way out of his lips.
Xue Yang is so warm on his lap when he leans down and takes his lips again. They kiss slowly, and Xiao Xingchen finally allows himself to take something of Xue Yang. He grabs at Xue Yang's waist, untucks his shirt and slips his hands inside. He can feel Xue Yang's muscles contracting when he touches his skin, his breathing coming hot and needy against his lips.
"Xingchen," he says, rolling his hips against Xiao Xingchen's crotch. "Fuck, you feel good," Xue Yang pulls at the chain on Xiao Xingchen's waist. Xiao Xingchen arches his back and Xue Yang leaves a trail of wet kisses down his chest, stopping halfway to roll one of his nipples between his fingers. It's all so much.
"Wait," Xiao Xingchen says, breathing hard. "Can we take it a little slower?" He asks, and hates himself for sounding so wrecked already. Xue Yang probably thinks he's a virgin.
"It's just—it's been a long time," he confesses.
Xue Yang smiles, but looks about as nearly gone as Xiao Xingchen. His hair is coming loose from Xiao Xingchen pulling at it, his cheeks are flushed and his jeans look uncomfortably tight when he moves away from Xiao Xingchen and sits beside him on the bed.
"Yeah, sorry," he says, running a hand through his messy hair. "Got a little excited, I guess."
Seeing Xue Yang losing a bit of his composure has a weird effect on Xiao Xingchen. He's used to people fawning over him, but this is different. He can physically see every way in which he affects Xue Yang, and it sends a wave of satisfaction all the way down to his gut.
Xiao Xingchen touches Xue Yang's thigh with one hand, makes Xue Yang turn to him. He looks a little surprised, and his face looks even younger. Xiao Xingchen leans in to kiss him, but the position is awkward so he thinks back to what Xue Yang had just done, and mimics his movements. He straddles Xue Yang's lap, and immediately there are hands around his waist, hungry for more friction.
"Slowly," Xiao Xingchen says, adjusting himself right over Xue Yang's crotch, feeling how hard he is. He teases Xue Yang, brushing their lips together before finally kissing him, hot and slow and messy. Xue Yang pulls at the chains going down his body like a leash, hisses when Xiao Xingchen bites his bottom lip.
Xiao Xingchen pulls away to admire that look on Xue Yang's face, his eyes glazed over like he’s drunk on it.
"You're cute," Xiao Xingchen says, running a finger over Xue Yang's jaw, and then over his swollen, kiss-bitten lips.
"And you're fucking beautiful," Xue Yang says, grabbing his ass with both hands. It catches Xiao Xingchen off guard and he lets out a small yelp, then covers his mouth. It's enough to bring back that sly smile to Xue Yang's face when he glances at the door dividing the two rooms. He knows exactly what he's doing. Xiao Xingchen wants to slap his pretty face.
"Are you…?" Xue Yang asks, and Xiao Xingchen just waits for him to finish, looking slightly confused. "The gifts," Xue Yang continues, hinting at something Xiao Xingchen still doesn't fully get.
"Do you like it?" Xiao Xingchen says, looking down on his body, noticing the light bruises blooming on his skin from where Xue Yang had kissed and bit him.
"You know I'm crazy about it," Xue Yang says, tugging at the chain again, pulling Xiao Xingchen down for a quick kiss. "Does your bodyguard like it? He looked as if he might actually bite me earlier today. It's a good dog you got there. Very loyal," Xue Yang says.
"Zichen?" Xiao Xingchen says, glancing at the door again. He had no idea how thick those walls were. "He… He helped me put this one on, actually," Xiao Xingchen says, rolling the little moon stone between two fingers.
"What is up with you two? Is there something there?" Xue Yang asks, his voice losing some of its playful tone.
"Oh, it's…" Xiao Xingchen says, trying to access his feelings. He didn't expect to be having this conversation so late, with someone he met only a few hours ago. One of his so-called fans even. "It's complicated, I guess. As these things usually are."
"I don't know what's supposed to be complicated about it," Xue Yang says. "If you like him, you can just do this," he says, reaching out to kiss Xiao Xingchen's neck, up to the spot under his ear, making Xiao Xingchen audibly sigh, his cock twitching in interest again.
"Mmh," Xiao Xingchen mumbles, his eyes falling shut when Xue Yang reaches his jaw and his lips. Xiao Xingchen sticks out the tip of his tongue and Xue Yang sucks on it, taking his lips again. It feels like they'd be at it all night.
"He did kiss me, once," the words escape Xiao Xingchen's lips before he can stop himself, the blood rushing fast through his body makes him lose all the little inhibition he still has. "Last year's company party, I think we were drunk. Or at least, I was."
Xiao Xingchen tries to remember how it happened, and now the memory just feels one-sided. "I came onto him."
"Was he into it?" Xue Yang asks, his hand finally reaching the buttons on Xiao Xingchen's pants.
Xiao Xingchen tries to remember Song Lan's reaction. He vaguely remembers Song Lan's big, dark frame pushing him against the concrete wall of the emergency stairway, where they went to talk quietly and run away from the chaos of the party. Rough hands on his body, lips crashing against his until he was breathless.
"I guess he was," Xiao Xingchen says, his eyes still closed, feeling the rough fabric of his underwear against the sensitive slit of his cock, while Xue Yang rubs circles with his thumb and makes him leak and shiver and whimper. Xiao Xingchen bucks his hips against Xue Yang's palm, trying to get a little more friction, he’s so fucking close—
"Xingchen, are you okay?" Song Lan's voice reaches him before the door is fully open, and Xiao Xingchen freezes in place.
He still has his arms around Xue Yang's neck, one hand cradling the back of his head, so close their cheeks are almost touching. Xue Yang still has one hand inside his pants, the other one on the small of his back, keeping him close on his lap. Neither of them move for a few seconds, time seems to drag on for an eternity.
Xue Yang turns his head to the side, facing the direction of the door. "He's more than okay," he says. "Aren't you, Xingchen?"
Xue Yang gives his waist a little squeeze. Xiao Xingchen finally turns his head and looks.
Song Lan is standing by the door, a dark, cloudy expression on his face. The shadows leaking from his room make it harder to see his exact reaction, but his body is stiff and uncomfortable. Arms close to his body, fists clenched tight.
"I'm okay," Xiao Xingchen says in a small voice. He feels one of Xue Yang's fingers going up and down his naked back, tracing the path of his golden chain, tugging on it ever so slightly in a possessive manner. Song Lan's eyes catch onto that quickly, and even in the darkness, Xiao Xingchen can see them spark like they are about to catch on fire.
"Why don't you ask him to join us?" Xue Yang asks, loud enough for his voice to reach Song Lan. "Would you like that?" Xue Yang asks, turning back to face Xiao Xingchen, even if his eyes were still locked on Song Lan.
Xiao Xingchen is aware of what he looks like. He's straddling someone's lap, his legs on each side of the bed, naked from his waist up except for the body jewelry. His skin is flushed, covered by a thin layer of sweat that makes him warm and a little damp to the touch, filling the room with a sweet scent. Xiao Xingchen's face is pink, his lips are swollen, and he's obviously hard. He'd been moaning like a slut, loud enough to wake Song Lan up.
But now, he has Song Lan's attention. Song Lan's eyes are on him, even if he looks angry. Maybe Xiao Xingchen deserves this, maybe he even wanted this.
"Zichen," Xiao Xingchen says his name like an invitation, needy and low, adjusting his hips on Xue Yang's lap, arching his back for him. Xue Yang's hands are on his ass now, pulling him closer against his cock, breathing in close to his neck. They're both looking at Song Lan.
If Song Lan were to touch him now, Xiao Xingchen would be nothing but soft, and warm, and good for him. All Song Lan needs to do is reach out and take what already belongs to him.
But he doesn't.
Song Lan takes a step back, opening the door behind him, one foot already in. "I'm sorry for interrupting," he says. His voice is hard, but there's the same courteous tone that Xiao Xingchen is used to.
And just like that, he's gone. The door clicks closed, leaving only Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang in the dimly lit room.
Xiao Xingchen feels himself slowly settling back into reality as the rose-tinted moment is gone. All that is left is him, and his bad decisions. He gets down from Xue Yang's lap, and starts cleaning up their mess.
Xue Yang understands the shift in the atmosphere quickly. "I should go too," he says. "You have a busy day tomorrow."
Xiao Xingchen walks him to the door and unlocks it for him. Xue Yang lingers there for a moment, looking like a kicked stray.
"Take a better look at your jewelry box later," Xue Yang says, giving him one last peck on the lips. "I left you one more gift. You should wear it later," he says, throwing him one of his mysterious smiles.
After he's gone, Xiao Xingchen changes back to his pajamas and sits on the bed. He pulls the box closer to him, and sets all his jewelry carefully aside. Running his fingers through the velvety inside, he notices he can pull off the little tray, and there is a second tier underneath.
Despite all the exhaustion, or perhaps because he just had such an insane night, Xiao Xingchen looks at the assortment of various anal plugs and bursts into a laughing fit.
***
Before Xiao Xingchen can fall asleep, the hotel staff contacts his room for his wakeup call. Stuck between what happened last night, and his full schedule ahead, Xiao Xingchen decides to just turn his brain off and go into autopilot. It was always easier to do what was expected of him and just follow orders.
If they needed him to be at the shop, quietly sitting, perfectly still, while a team of hairdressers and makeup artists made sure he looks flawless and unreal, that's what he'd do.
It's not hard to avoid Song Lan, because he also makes sure to stay out of his way. Xiao Xingchen tries to assess how he feels, at least on a surface level. He might be a little awkward, but he doesn't regret it. When every single person around him treats him like he is made of glass and paper, it felt so good to be touched like he was skin and blood and bones. Like he was real.
Xiao Xingchen feels so numb and distanced from everything. The way Song Lan avoids his eyes, just like he did the day after they kissed, tells him he would just have to pretend nothing had happened. He doesn't think Song Lan would be capable of telling on him to management, which is a relief. It still doesn't make things better.
There's already a small line of people waiting on the street when he arrives for his schedule. He waves and smiles at his fans, and hopes they can't tell how tired he is. Song Lan drops him off at the broadcast station, walks him into the building, and promises to be back as soon as he is finished with work, in about six long hours.
People might think being an idol is a living dream. And sometimes, it really feels like that. But mostly, it's just a lot of waiting around. Waiting around for an entire day, even, at a broadcast station where he doesn't know anyone, just to have a 5-minute performance recorded and shown to his fans on public television.
Hoping it helps him sell more albums for the company, maybe win a pretty award. Something palpable that tells him he is doing good enough. If he can touch it, it must be real, and Xiao Xingchen is so used to being empty-handed.
Xiao Xingchen doesn't like this part. He knows he's not a particularly good singer, definitely not one of the best, but he loves his fans. Being in a room full of people who came there just to see you, because your music and your words touched them somehow, was the entire reason Xiao Xingchen did it. He craved to be on the stage, to sing the lyrics that he wrote, baring every part of him, even the most fragile and personal things, and have his fans tell him that they felt the same. He needed to be seen, and to be understood.
Somehow, sitting in a dressing room for most of the day while his fans waited outside in the cold, didn't make for the most exciting day ever.
And he couldn't even count on Song Lan to be there with him. The company had him doing odd chauffeur and private security jobs when Xiao Xingchen didn't need him, because they couldn't afford to have a perfectly abled worker just sitting around like that.
His phone buzzes on his lap while he's distracted staring at the monitoring screen, watching someone else rehearse.
Xiao Xingchen reads the text from an unknown number.
"Couldn't sleep last night. Kept thinking about your lips, your skin. You were right when you called me a lucky boy."
Xiao Xingchen didn't even want to know how Xue Yang got his number. Maybe he was a stalker after all. Xiao Xingchen looked around the room, glanced at the security cameras. What if Xue Yang was watching him right now?
"Where are you?" Xiao Xingchen sends back. "I'm bored."
Xue Yang dodges the question, and shoots another one back. "Want me to come up there?"
Xiao Xingchen smiles when he reads the message. "Can't. I'm working."
"So am I," Xue Yang replies.
Xiao Xingchen waits a few more seconds and a new message pops in.
"What are you wearing?"
Xiao Xingchen bites his lip. He can't believe he's actually falling for it, but there's literally nothing else to do. He walks up to the dressing table and poses in front of the mirror, showing off his outfit, and snaps a picture for Xue Yang.
A soft, billowy shirt with puff sleeves and a deep cut neckline, showing off his fair skin. His hair is flowy and curly at the tips, falling over one shoulder. His stylist put him in silver hoop earrings and a thin necklace. The kisses Xue Yang had given him were no longer visible around his throat or chest.
"Gorgeous," Xue Yang sends. "Almost as good as you looked yesterday, sitting on my lap."
And after a few seconds, Xue Yang texts him again. "There are still plenty of your gifts I haven't seen you wearing. Are you gonna wear them today?"
"Should I put one on right now?" Xiao Xingchen says, half jokingly.
The reply comes almost immediately. "Yeah, put it on. And send me a picture."
Xiao Xingchen feels a shiver running down his spine, sudden warmth blooming in his gut. Making stupid decisions before he could listen to reason was proving to be easier than he expected. Especially if they were orders coming from someone else.
Xiao Xingchen asks to be excused and leaves the dressing room. He knows there's a bathroom at the end of the corridor that is rarely used, a gender neutral room where only one person might go in at a time. It is spacious enough, pristine looking, with a single stall, a full body mirror and good warm lightning. Almost as if it was made with this type of thing in mind.
Xiao Xingchen brings his bag with him, hanging heavy over one shoulder, and locks himself inside the empty bathroom.
He goes through his stuff, pushing aside a paperback, snacks, a few stuffed toys, his makeup bag. And at the bottom of it, not risking leaving it at the hotel where others may find it, was the gift box Xue Yang had given him. Inside, cradled by the velvety, dark blue interior, were three different types of anal plugs. There was even a bottle of lube included. Xue Yang was so thoughtful.
Xiao Xingchen runs his fingers over them, feeling the different types of materials. The smaller one seems to be made of silicone, and the other two are made of steel. The one in the middle is on the thinner side, with a fatter, curved ending. The other one seems to be a regular jewel plug, except fancier than any Xiao Xingchen has seen. The jewel on the end is pretty, rose colored, not too big. The plug gets bigger and then narrows down at the tip, it’s the biggest one.
Still, nothing too scary or intimidating, if it wasn't for the fact Xiao Xingchen was in public.
He thinks about which one he should try on, and goes for the smaller one, made out of pale blue silicone, beads that grow a little bigger, with a small hoop at the end for easy handling. Looking closer now, Xiao Xingchen sees the color looks pearly in the light, and the beads are heart shaped. Xiao Xingchen had experimented with his fingers before, but nothing like this.
He sends Xue Yang a picture of the toy he chose, before putting it in.
"Good choice, babe," Xue Yang says.
Xiao Xingchen lets his pants fall all the way down to his feet, afraid he might stain them with the lube. He is thankful for the fact he's wearing jockstraps, a request made by his stylists to keep everything in place while he sings and dances.
After pressing some of it over his finger, Xiao Xingchen starts teasing his entrance, getting the rim wet and slick. He spreads some of it over the toy, and once the tip of his finger breaches in and out of his hole with ease, he starts pressing the toy inside. Slowly, methodically. It feels uncomfortable at first, he can't stop clenching around it, but it doesn't hurt.
Taking small breaths, trying to ignore the way his dick starts twitching just from the simple intrusion, Xiao Xingchen gets the entire toy in. He pulls at the hoop, feeling it slide inside him, and then pushes it back in again. In and out, in and out, fucking himself with it until the soft wet sounds fill the room. It isn't big enough to hit anywhere that feels really good, but Xiao Xingchen enjoys the feeling nonetheless.
Xiao Xingchen presses his body against the wall, pushes his ass back and looks behind his shoulder at himself in the mirror. He lifts one leg up, props it over the toilet, and spreads his ass with one hand. Seeing the toy going in and out of him with such ease, even if it ‘s just a small thing, sends waves of arousal through his body. He can feel it in his cock, so he caves and slips one hand inside his underwear, trying to find some release.
Pushing the toy in deeper, he gives his hard cock a few lazy strokes under the fabric of his jockstrap, feeling it already leaking at the tip. He's letting out tiny moans against the bathroom tiles when his phone buzzes over the sink.
It's not from Xue Yang.
It's Song Lan, saying he's coming over and asking what floor Xiao Xingchen is on.
Xiao Xingchen had completely forgotten he was supposed to be back at the dressing room by now. He still has the plug inside him when he quickly replies to Song Lan.
With his mind still foggy with arousal, Xiao Xingchen snaps a few pictures for Xue Yang. They don't show his face, only his back. Legs spread apart, the small hoop of the toy visible between his asscheeks. Just the tiniest hint of his rim, shiny with lube and red from all the teasing.
Xiao Xingchen pulls his pants up, plug still inside, and leaves the room.
He meets up with Song Lan around the same moment someone from the station calls him up to perform. They are summoned with some other idols, and are forced to go down in the same crowded elevator.
Xiao Xingchen has to stand in front of Song Lan, feel him pressing against his back, and he wonders if Song Lan can tell Xiao Xingchen is wearing something. Xiao Xingchen keeps his head down, hoping others won't notice the flushed skin of his chest, or his irregular heartbeat.
While Xiao Xingchen waits for his turn at the stage, he runs to the nearest restroom and pulls himself together. He's not wearing the plug anymore, but there's still a lingering sensation, like he wanted more of it. There's a new text from Xue Yang. "I can't wait to see it in person," it says.
"When can we meet?" Xiao Xingchen asks, wondering if he could sneak into Xue Yang's room tonight.
There's no answer.
Xiao Xingchen is still riding that high when he goes out to perform, nearly blinded by the stage lights and the cameras. His body feels light, warmed up, buzzing. Xiao Xingchen hears the chants of the audience, the screams of his fans, and he knows it's a wrap before the stage director even signals him.
He's relieved they get it on the first try. Xiao Xingchen's heart is beating so loud, the adrenaline pouring out of his brain like a fountain, he thinks it might have been one of his best performances.
"You did great," Song Lan says, when he walks off stage.
Xiao Xingchen wipes the sweat off his forehead with a tissue, feeling happier than he remembers feeling in a long time. Song Lan smiles at him too, and that makes him feel even lighter.
They walk the short distance to another waiting room together, where the director should give them the OK to leave in a few minutes. It's still early in the afternoon.
Maybe Xiao Xingchen could still fix things between them. Maybe he could still tell Song Lan about his feelings, and about what happened last night. He could say he was just lonely and bored, and he would only partially be lying.
"You were incredible on the stage, Xingchen."
Xiao Xingchen turns his head to find Jin Guangyao standing in the doorway, looking busy and professional as always. "I had a meeting to attend at the station and thought I'd come and congratulate you," he says, a courteous smile in his eyes.
"Thank you," Xiao Xingchen says, a feeling of dread suddenly taking over him.
"There's someone here to meet you. I don't think you were introduced yet. He's going to be taking over as your temporary assistant for the duration of promotions," Jin Guangyao says, taking a step to the side and
making way for someone else at the doorway. "This is Xue Yang," Jin Guangyao says, as Xue Yang walks in.
Xue Yang's hair is tied in a half ponytail, he's dressed in slacks and a shirt instead of ripped jeans. But it's definitely him—the unmistakable disingenuous smile on his lips is proof enough. Xiao Xingchen could probably recognize those sharp canines by touch alone.
"Hello," Xue Yang says, looking between Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan.
"We've worked together before," Jin Guangyao says, "and he was in town, so I called him up. I hope you can work well together."
Xiao Xingchen's mouth falls open, but no words come out.
Jin Guangyao's polite smile never leaves his lips, even when he feels the awkward mood installing itself in the room.
"Have you two met before?" Jin Guangyao asks, and Xiao Xingchen swears he sees the tiniest twitch in his eye, his mask wavering just a bit.
"Something like that," Xue Yang says, giggling and playing with his hair.
***
The drive to the company building is so awkward. The storm is back inside Song Lan's eyes, all the tenderness from a few moments ago completely gone.
"I didn't know," Xiao Xingchen says, after long minutes of complete silence between them.
"That doesn't make it better," Song Lan says. He keeps quiet the rest of the way, gripping the wheel harder than he needs to.
Xiao Xingchen knows not all of Song Lan's anger is directed at Xue Yang. They've had these silent conversations, picking up things in the middle, more times than Xiao Xingchen could count.
And the truth is that Xiao Xingchen likes it. He likes seeing the dark clouds inside Song Lan's eyes, knowing he is probably going over what he saw last night, putting all the pieces together and realizing that Xue Yang is already under their skin. Song Lan cares. And that's all that matters to him.
"Be careful around him," Song Lan says, when he's parking the car near the entrance.
Xiao Xingchen knows this much. He isn't sure of anything anymore, but one thing he knows is he could be in serious trouble.
He has no idea if Xue Yang is an actual fan, or a stalker, or someone in the business that wants to take advantage of him. Someone who would sell information and make up a scandal about him. Xue Yang could have been recording the time they were together. He could be emailing the tabloids those pictures right now.
But as much as these things feel possible, they don't really feel probable.
Because Jin Guangyao mentioned that they worked together before.
The company had some serious flaws, and Xiao Xingchen was highly convinced they were up to some very shady business behind the curtains. And that is exactly why they wouldn't hire anyone suspicious and untrustworthy. If Xue Yang had something on him, Xiao Xingchen could assure that Jin Guangyao had much more on Xue Yang. Enough to ruin his entire life, if he wanted to.
The last person Jin Guangyao hired to work for him was supposed to be a temporary gig too. Three years later, Zichen is the closest to a friend that Xiao Xingchen has ever had. And he trusts that, whatever might happen, he would be protected.
"Will you be okay?" Song Lan asks, his voice a bit softer this time, when he opens the car door for him and escorts him inside.
Xiao Xingchen nods, looking up at him. Song Lan looks worried and it makes his heart tighten.
"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry," Xiao Xingchen says. He wishes he had the guts to ask Song Lan to stay, to not leave his side until they are safely back to their hotel room.
Song Lan's eyes rest on his face like they are trying to read his expression, scanning for lies. "Call me when you want me to pick you up. I'll be here," Song Lan says, before taking off to another gig.
When Xiao Xingchen goes up and joins the meeting room, Xue Yang is already there, leaning against the window, standing behind Jin Guangyao. Xiao Xingchen feels his eyes following him, but he can't bring himself to look up.
Jin Guangyao shows them a replay of Xiao Xingchen's performance on the screen. They go through it a few times, reviewing Xiao Xingchen's movements, facial expressions, and how clear his voice sounds in the pre-recording. Jin Guangyao gives him a list of things he should be improving on, and—surprisingly enough—Xue Yang is sitting beside him, taking notes diligently.
Every once in a while, Xue Yang reaches for the bowl with colorful candy, unwraps them loudly and chews on them even louder. Xiao Xingchen can see people around the table visibly cringing every time, but Xue Yang doesn't seem to mind.
"Are you listening, Xingchen?" Jin Guangyao's voice rings close to him, brings him back to earth. Xue Yang looks up to see him staring, and shows him the tip of his artificially colored pink tongue.
"I'm sorry," Xiao Xingchen says. "What was that?"
"You're scheduled for lessons this afternoon, followed by dance practice. Take Xue Yang with you and show him around," Jin Guangyao says, matter of factly, already starting to get up from his chair.
Being with Xue Yang under those fluorescent lights, in the middle of the afternoon, walking the narrow corridors of the company building—it all feels like a fever dream. Xiao Xingchen's head is still bubbling with questions. He wants nothing more than to shove Xue Yang into a walk-in closet and demand answers to every single one of them. And maybe he would do just that, if only they were alone for a moment.
Xiao Xingchen walks with Xue Yang at his heels to his vocal training, where Xue Yang waits by the door and offers him water or tea. Xue Yang brings him snacks and interrupts his teacher when they run out of time.
"We need to get going, Xingchen. Dance lessons, remember?" Xue Yang says, pointing at his phone.
The entire time, that sickly sweet smile doesn't leave his face. The casual tone is Xiao Xingchen's least favorite part.
"Yeah," Xiao Xingchen says, trying to swallow down his annoyance.
In the middle of his dancing practice, Xue Yang sits in a corner against the mirror wall. He looks at his phone, and Xiao Xingchen tries to see on the reflection behind him what exactly Xue Yang is looking at. Xiao Xingchen thinks with dread about the pictures he sent earlier. As much as they didn't show his face, the thought of someone else seeing them makes him feel mortified.
Xiao Xingchen will remember to lock and hide his phone the next time he feels horny.
"What's going through your head today, Xingchen?" Xiao Xingchen's dance teacher shouts at him, her voice making him stop in the middle of a movement. She kills the music completely.
"I thought you had this routine down by now? The showcase is in 5 days!"
Xiao Xingchen apologizes, keeping his eyes on the floor. He swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth.
"Maybe it's time for a break," Xue Yang says, getting up and bringing him a water bottle with a straw.
"I'm okay," Xiao Xingchen says, putting his hands in front of him. "Let's keep going."
By the time Xiao Xingchen gets ready to leave the company, the moon is high up in the sky. It will probably still be this dark when he wakes up, in only a few hours. Assuming he sleeps at all.
His head is ringing when he steps into the elevator, headed to the underground garage where Song Lan waits for him. Xue Yang follows behind him like a stray. He half expects Xue Yang to start rubbing against his leg, so Xiao Xingchen is not surprised when he hugs him from behind as soon as they are alone.
Xiao Xingchen has no strength to push him away. He can't afford to refuse this comfort right now. Instead, he closes his eyes and rests his head on Xue Yang's shoulder.
"You work too hard," Xue Yang says, close to his ear. He kisses the skin there, light as a butterfly, his arms slithering around Xiao Xingchen's waist, threatening to slip inside his coat.
"Clear my schedule, then," Xiao Xingchen sighs, when Xue Yang presses his body closer. "Mr. Assistant," Xiao Xingchen says, mockingly.
"You know I would, babe," Xue Yang says. "Meng Yao would kill me, but I would. Let me take care of you instead," Xue Yang's hands start going lower, to where Xiao Xingchen already feels himself throbbing.
"You lied to me," Xiao Xingchen says, his voice already sounding breathy when it leaves his lips.
"I would never," Xue Yang says, inhaling close to his neck. It makes Xiao Xingchen's skin prickle.
Xiao Xingchen feels weak in Xue Yang's arms, boneless. All Xue Yang needs to do is talk in his ear like this, and he loses all ability to use his brain. Still, he gathers all the little strength he has left to put some distance between them when the elevator doors open.
"We have some things to talk about first," Xiao Xingchen says, and walks to the car.
Song Lan rolls in with his car, and nearly speeds up when he sees Xue Yang walking behind him. He jumps out and props himself up besides the passenger door.
"Can you give me a ride?" Xue Yang says, looking between them. "We're staying in the same hotel, after all."
Song Lan gives Xue Yang the once over, towering over him at least a full head taller and twice as wide. He looks over at Xiao Xingchen, uncertainty in his eyes, but ultimately leaving the decision up to him.
Xiao Xingchen opens the door to the backseat and shoves Xue Yang inside. "Get in," he says, pressing a hand to Xue Yang's chest.
Driving through the streets at night, the chilly air helps Xiao Xingchen gather his thoughts. Sitting at the front with Song Lan, he thinks back on the past few days.
Every single aspect of Xiao Xingchen's life is out of his control. From the moment he wakes up, every minute is accounted for. Neat schedules with multiple tasks to follow every day, with barely any time for himself. So little of that time is spent actually doing the things he joined this business for. And always the pressure to show results, to bring in more people, more views, more money.
And then Xue Yang shows up, and for the first time in so long, Xiao Xingchen feels in control. For the first time in so long, he feels like a human being. Real, living, breathing. And flawed, imperfect, impure. When Xue Yang touched him, he felt his body running hot, nearly boiling. Xiao Xingchen was reminded that he was still flesh and blood, that he liked having someone else's hands on him. That he wanted to be kissed. That he wanted to be fucked.
If Xue Yang wants to give him that freedom, he will take it. Xiao Xingchen wants to have at least that, at least one thing that is his.
"I don't trust him," Song Lan says, breaking the silence in the car.
"I'm right here, Zichen," Xue Yang spits.
When Xiao Xingchen speaks, he also pretends Xue Yang is not there. He doesn't want to face him right now. Instead, he turns to Song Lan. "Keep an eye out for him, then. Aren't you supposed to protect me?"
Silence falls back around them, until Xue Yang whistles.
"You two need to relax. Live a little. I'm only here to help—with whatever you need," Xue Yang says, his voice going sweet and low. "Let me make your life a little easier," Xue Yang drops the promise as they enter the hotel. He no longer focuses on Xiao Xingchen only, and Song Lan looks as if he knows some of it is also directed at him.
It's nearly one in the morning when they enter the elevator. Xue Yang stands in the middle, and there's an invisible tension between them, like electricity in the air before a thunderstorm. It makes the hairs on Xiao Xingchen's arms stand, because he knows what comes next.
He's still surprised when Xue Yang says it. "Let's go up to my room."
"You have a busy day tomorrow," Song Lan says, and Xiao Xingchen knows he means him, even if his schedule impacts everything about their day too.
"When don't I have a busy day?" Xiao Xingchen asks. He means for it to come out mean and snappy, but he just sounds tired. He needs a distraction. Anything to make him feel alive again.
He doesn't even notice when the elevator stops a few floors before the one he was staying in.
When the doors to Xue Yang's floor open, he stands by the doors, keeping them open for a few seconds. "So? Are you coming or going?" Xue Yang asks, looking at both of them.
Xiao Xingchen turns to Song Lan, extending a silent invitation.
Song Lan sighs and steps out of the elevator.