Archive of Our Own

Song Lan’s apartment had an echo to it. He had tried putting down rugs, hanging pictures, and curtains. The place looked quite homey by that point, but nothing helped with the original problem. Arriving home after a hard day of work and hearing the sound of the front door shutting behind him was enough to drive him to consider moving, but he had no other problems with the place so he couldn’t justify it for such a silly reason. When he first moved in he had thought he would get used to it over time, but perhaps you never got used to some things. He still felt Xingchen’s absence just as strongly as when he had first left him. Would the amount of time it took to get used to his absence be the same as the amount of time they had spent together? If so he would likely be miserable for the rest of his life. Maybe he would get a few years of peace in his old age. He lingered in the entryway, not quite sure what to do with himself, so he turned to his mental to-do list. He hated when it was empty. He hadn’t brought any work home with him that day. All the chores were done. Dinner. He had forgotten to pick up groceries. He preferred shopping on the weekends, rather than forcing himself when he was already tired after work. He could rest a while first, but he would have to change into his indoor clothes, which he didn’t like to do without having a shower beforehand, and if he did that he would definitely not want to go out again. He really was not up for doing a full shopping trip though. He resigned himself to another evening alone, eating a convenience store meal in his echoey apartment. 

The rain had stopped, proving the umbrella he grabbed redundant, but the streets were still soaked. He had always liked that, despite the puddles. Especially at night, when the traffic lights reflected off the pavement. It felt clean, rinsed by the downpour. Maybe he would feel differently if he lived outside the city. There, rain led to mud. He appreciated concrete and glass. 

Maybe it was age, but walking in the dark didn’t make him nervous anymore either, not the way it had when he was younger. Though that could also be attributed to the area of the city he lived in. That night there was only a single unsavory-type hanging about in front of the 7-Eleven. What did he have to fear? Well – he didn’t want to let his thoughts stray too far in that direction. He was sure he could think of a few things. Being mugged, stabbed, even being looked at funny could ruin his night. He eyed the delinquent, loitering beneath the overhang as if he hadn’t noticed the rain had stopped. Sometimes there would be whole gangs of them there, heckling any innocent passerby. He didn’t recognize this one. If he had been there before Song Lan would have noticed. He was beautiful. Like a model, not a real person. Not to say models weren’t real people, just – you didn’t expect to see someone like that in such a mundane location. Maybe in the magazines lining the racks inside, but not in real life. Their eyes met and a strange jolt shot down Song Lan’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was terror or arousal. The delinquent grinned. Not politely – to intimidate. He broke his scary image by tossing a handful of rainbow candy in his mouth. He licked his lips, and that confused his image even more. It almost looked like he was trying to seem seductive. Talk about wishful thinking. Had Song Lan really become that person? The creepy old man ogling pretty boys in the street? When he had first realized his orientation it had taken him years to stop feeling like a lecher. Maybe it had never been a case of internalized homophobia, but rather he was correct all along. He was a pervert. 

Or just dramatic. When had he gotten so old that grown adults looked like kids to him? The boy must have been over eighteen, it wasn’t strange for him to admire an attractive adult. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Still, he thought of his students and felt uncomfortable. He was old enough to be the boy’s father, he shouldn’t be looking at him that way. Song Lan resolutely tore his eyes away from the delinquent and took a step towards the store. His foot went straight into a puddle. The water seeped through his dress shoes and drenched his sock. He heard the sound of snickering. The boy was laughing at him. He speedwalked into the store to escape, ignoring the slopping sound from his shoe. 

He grabbed a few microwave meals, without even bothering to look at what they were, paid, and tried to get out of there as fast as possible, making sure to not even glance at the delinquent on his way out. 

He was followed. 

“Hey. You.” 

He resisted the urge to empty his pockets onto the sidewalk and make a run for it. 

“Hellooo? Are you deaf?” A hand grasped his elbow. “Can I use your phone for a sec?” 

People usually looked worse up close. You could spot every flaw that, from a distance, blended in. Song Lan was struggling to find a single one on the boy’s face. The delinquent looked him up and down. His gaze made Song Lan feel self-conscious enough that he might as well have been naked. Song Lan was nothing but flaws. His hair was always a mess from absently running his hands through it at work. Too many times he arrived home, looked in the hall mirror, and discovered he had looked ridiculous all day. Also, he was well past the point of smooth skin. There were wrinkles on his forehead, crows feet and laugh lines, despite the fact he was sure he hadn’t smiled enough in life to earn them. His clothes were out of style. The shade of brown his shoes were didn’t match his pants. He looked like an ugly, rumpled, old man. The delinquent, on the other hand, was perfect. Song Lan tried not to look at his lips as he spoke. It was difficult. He must have used some sort of lip balm, they looked really soft. He licked his own chapped lips, self-consciously. The delinquent's eyebrow raised. He stared at Song Lan like he expected something. Oh, right. What had he been saying? “Huh?” asked Song Lan, articulately. 

“Gimme your fucking phone.”

Oh, shoot. He was being robbed after all. He handed it over without a struggle, that would only make matters worse.   

“Thanks.” The delinquent smiled. It was adorable. His predatory energy vanished, and he went from tiger-energy to kitten. “Unlock,” he said, holding it out. Right. He probably wanted to access his accounts. It wouldn’t be about selling the phone, that was so old it was probably worthless. He entered his passcode and watched the boy violate his possession unrepentantly. He wanted to look over his shoulder and see what he was doing as he tapped away on the touchscreen. “There.” He handed it back.

Song Lan blinked. “What?” 

“Call me,” the delinquent said, before skipping off. 

Song Lan looked down at the screen. A new contact was displayed, labelled: Future Boytoy <3 

The walk home was an out of body experience. When he got inside he placed the phone down on the kitchen counter, alongside his bag of instant meals, and stared at it. He had taken some tiny part of the delinquent home with him. His microorganisms. He had the inexplicable urge to press the phone places he might like him to touch, like some sort of warped second-hand kiss. Even he wasn’t pathetic enough to get turned on by that. He grabbed the disinfectant and wiped the phone clean, removing all traces of the boy and tossing them into the trash, along with a wad of paper towel. 

Was his phone filled with spyware now? Was the delinquent going to steal his identity? He might have accessed his location data. The boy knew where he lived. He resisted the urge to microwave his phone. He was being silly. What if he really just wanted to give Song Lan his number? It wasn’t like Song Lan had never been hit on by a stranger. Only women, of course. No gay man he had ever met would dare flirt with random men on the street. Not the ones in his age-range anyway. Had times changed that much? Could the boy have mistaken him for someone younger and more attractive in the dark? Perhaps the boy had vision problems?

No. That was ridiculous. He had obviously been making fun of him. It was a prank. The number he had given him was probably for a sex hotline or something. He went to delete it, but hesitated. Wiping the phone clean physically was one thing, but if he deleted the contact he would lose all evidence the experience ever happened. Odds were he would never see the boy again. It was a big city. Was it really wrong to live in a fantasy world where he got hit on by attractive men? It felt nice. He hadn’t felt wanted since Xingchen left. If he was being honest, even before that. It was nostalgic. The thing missing in his life was youthful exuberance. The thrill of being just a bit delusional. He had never been one of those naive youths who thought they could do or be anything, but there had been a time where he had allowed himself to have hope. That was what felt good. Hope that the delinquent had actually found him attractive. It wasn’t too late for him. What did it matter if it wasn’t real? Even if it were true, the boy was too young for him. Just the idea he could be desired was enough to warm his chest. It burned like swallowing a shot. That must have been how people became alcoholics. He wanted more. 

He hadn’t thought to grab anything for breakfast the night before, so he had a good excuse to go back, but the desire to see the delinquent one more time felt so addictive he didn’t allow himself. Besides, he had already prolonged his route to work enough for another fantasy of his, he didn’t need to convolute the path further by adding a trip to the 7-Eleven into his morning routine. A few months before, wanting to avoid the crowds on his usual street, he took a detour into a suburban neighborhood. It made the walk longer, but it was worth it. Not just to avoid other pedestrians, but to see – that. Parked in the driveway of an affluent looking home, a for sale sign propped against its tire. His bike. Well, most likely not the exact one. It was a huge city, and he had sold it over twenty years earlier at Xingchen’s behest. Xingchen had never liked it. Always said it was too dangerous. He was right of course, but Song Lan still thought about that motorcycle fondly.  

And there it was. The identical model and color he’d had all those years ago. There was something strange going on with him. Was this what they called a mid-life crisis? He had thought he was past wanting things with such voracious immaturity. He didn’t need a bike. He was spending too much time around young adults at work. He was adopting their characteristics. He imagined himself as a teenager again, but this time he never met Xingchen. He would ride his bike to the 7-Eleven, and pick up his delinquent instead. That guy wouldn’t ask Song Lan to sell it – because he wouldn’t give a shit if he lived or died, but regardless. He would sit behind him with his arms wrapped around his waist, and in his fantasy the touch wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. Song Lan wouldn’t be weird about it at all. 

The daydream was interrupted when someone walked out of the house, and knelt beside his bike. A shot of possessiveness hit him. The owner? He watched the man's biceps tense as he worked, the movement of his shoulder blades visible under his loose tank top. Song Lan needed to get back into his workout routine. He could buy the bike as a reward if he succeeded. He would look less strange riding it if he was buff. He was probably a similar age to that guy, but between the two of them one made much more sense with a bike like that. No one would give him a second glance. Song Lan, on the other hand, would look like a clown. Still, getting fit would take a long time, and he was turning fifty soon. He would never be his teenage-self again. He would just get more elderly. That was his future. He missed aspiring to things. He missed anticipating improvement, rather than decay. The longer he put off buying the bike, the sillier he would look on it, and he shouldn’t care what people thought of him at his age. If he wanted the bike he should get the bike. Someone else could buy it at any time, and he would lose his chance – and after all, why shouldn’t he have it? What other joy could a man pushing fifty possibly aspire to in life? Part of him felt guilty. He wouldn’t be able to enjoy the bike properly. Someone else could get more value from it. Someone who really did get to pick up their lover from the front of convenience stores. Him buying it would basically be hoarding. How often would he even use it? It would sit in his parking space and rust. Still, the bike had been rusting in this guy’s driveway for quite a while. No one wanted it. The model had never been popular, even brand new. Song Lan bought it out of youthful ignorance. He hadn’t researched what models were best, just chose the one he liked the look of, flush with a decade of paper route money. He was always praised for not wasting it on trivial things like toys and candy the way the other kids did. Yet when it came time to spend it, he did it so impulsively.

Was he doing the same thing again? If he was going to buy a bike, nostalgia was a terrible reason to choose one. He could get a newer, affordable model with great gas mileage. This one pulled at his heart though. Maybe buying it wasn’t taking from someone else who would enjoy it better, maybe he would appreciate it more than anyone else could. “Excuse me?” What was he doing?

The man working on the bike turned to look at him. It wasn’t a stranger. He hadn't recognized him. He never knew his fellow professor was hiding all those muscles under his work attire. “Professor Song, hello.” Nie Mingjue stood, wiping a greasy hand off on his shorts, before holding it out to shake. 

Song Lan tried to keep the discomfort off his face as he shook the offered hand. He had gotten better about these things. The feeling of obligation still crawled over his skin unpleasantly, but it wasn’t worth the discomfort of saying no. Handshakes always left him feeling backed into a corner, whether you went with it or declined, awkwardness was inescapable. He had a difficult time not disliking people who offered them. It always felt to him like some sort of assertion of dominance. That was unfair to Professor Nie though. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Song Lan had considered trying to befriend him before. Sometimes he walked past his office during lunch and saw him eating alone, and thought about going in to make conversation. He’d never quite managed to work up the courage though. “Could I buy that?” Song Lan gestured to the bike

It was even more embarrassing that this was not someone he would never see again, but a colleague who would forever be around to snicker behind his back at how weird it was for a person like him to own a motorcycle. What if he told the other professors, and it got around the campus? The students would have a heyday. “I didn’t know you rode.” Was his tone curious or mocking? Song Lan had always been bad at reading tone. 

“It’s been a while.”

“Would you like to take her for a test drive?” 

Song Lan also didn’t like people who gave inanimate objects pronouns, he was petty. “That’s alright, I don’t have time. On my way to work.” 

“Ah, yeah. You’re always there early, aren’t you? Want to stop by after and take her for a spin?” 

No. Song Lan didn’t want a test drive at all. He didn’t want his colleague to see him on the bike, or god forbid he didn’t trust him to take the test drive alone. What if he climbed on behind him? He went with the completely irresponsible option and said, “No need. I’ll take it.” 

Nie Mingjue seemed thrilled to be rid of it, even offered to drop it off at Song Lan’s apartment for him, after he had declined to ride it away right then, realizing that would mean taking it to work and pulling into the parking lot in front of everyone. “You should come by my office sometime.” Were Nie Mingjue’s parting words. “We could eat lunch together.” Maybe Song Lan was capable of making a friend after all. 

The bike looked strange, waiting in Song Lan’s neglected parking spot when he arrived home from work. It had always felt wasteful that his apartment rental included one. He had never even had a visitor use it. He never imagined he would have something to park there himself. It didn’t feel real. He touched it, to confirm he could. He could also wash it, he realized, and ran inside for supplies. After scrubbing every inch thoroughly, and then doing it a second time to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot, he spent another half an hour just staring at it. He was stalling. His legs started to hurt from just standing there. He took the excuse to sit on it, and immediately felt like an imposter. It didn’t feel as familiar as he’d hoped it might be. He tested the kick start and it took an embarrassing amount of tries to get it started. Once it was on, he turned it off again. He wasn’t ready. He went back inside his miserable echoey apartment, and realized he’d forgotten to pick up groceries again… The delinquent probably wouldn’t be hanging out in front of the convenience store two days in a row, right?

It felt silly walking to the store when he had just bought a new motorcycle, but he had an excuse. He needed to buy a helmet before he could ride it. Nie Mingjue had given him one, but the risk of head lice wasn’t worth it. 

The delinquent was there! He looked as though he had never left. Song Lan was pretty sure he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Was he homeless? A mad daydream struck Song Lan of bringing him home. Letting him use his shower and borrow his clothes. He could feed him dinner too. How he was going to do that with no food in his fridge he didn’t know, but it was a fantasy, it didn’t need to be realistic. Realistically that sounded like a good way to get robbed blind. Though the more he examined the delinquent, the harder it was to imagine him as dangerous. Despite his intimidating fashion choices, you could almost call him adorable. Song Lan tried to convince himself the feeling of wanting to bring him home with him was entirely parental. He just wanted to adopt a stray youth, feelings he’d had for his students from time to time. He wasn’t a creep. He didn’t do age gap relationships. In actuality he didn’t do any relationships. His first and only one had been with Xingchen. Maybe that was the problem. He hadn’t been single since he was a teenager, his brain had never adjusted to searching for romantic partners in his age bracket. That was plausible. He just needed to find someone his own age to lust after. His psyche would learn to adjust. He would have to take Nie Mingjue up on his lunch offer. Not that there was any chance the man had been asking for that reason, just, it might do him good to be around attractive men his own age. He could admire him without any expectations of it going anywhere.  This delinquent, on the other hand, Song Lan needed to remind his brain that he was off limits. He glanced at him and the boy was already looking back. He smirked. Song Lan was reminded of last time. He recalled the puddle with just enough time to take an aborted side-step around it. The delinquent giggled. Song Lan wanted to shove him against the wall and wipe that smirk off his face. Shit. He had definitely become a dirty old man. 

The well-lit store offered an illusion of safety. For some reason he wasn’t expecting to be followed in. The delinquent was definitely stalking him, he didn’t think the boy wanted it to go unnoticed. Whenever Song Lan turned the corner into an aisle he would slink around the other end. Then he would pretend to be looking at something on the shelf, but Song Lan was fairly sure the delinquent was not shopping for menstrual products. He maintained the act anyway. It was possible that the boy was grabbing something for his girlfriend. Song Lan had read enough social anxiety self-help articles to know it was wrong to assume other people were paying attention to what you were doing all the time. The boy may have completely forgotten about his prank the night before, and just happened to be shopping at the same time as him. Song Lan was being self-centered, assuming he was being stalked, when he was the one invasively paying attention to what the boy was shopping for. He had probably stopped in front of the menstrual products to wait for Song Lan to leave, before he went for his actual target – Song Lan blushed, seeing what the delinquent had moved on to looking at. Condoms. He must have had a girlfriend after all. Song Lan grabbed the same brand of soap he always bought and stopped loitering, watching people pick out condoms, like a weirdo. 

After work the next day he finally remembered to get groceries. He grabbed a new helmet too. Then may have gone overkill with a new outfit as well, which would better suit riding than his usual attire. His new helmet entirely covered his face. No one would know it was him on the bike at all. Why had he been worrying? In front of the mirror, Song Lan couldn’t even recognize himself. Emboldened, he went out for a ride as soon as he had finished hastily shoving his groceries in the fridge. He hoped he hadn’t left them on the counter too long, he really should have put them away before changing into the new clothes. He was acting like a child. A sixteen-year-old again, making his first major purchase. He remembered how it felt the first time. He had been embarrassing back then as well. He would drag a lawn chair out to his driveway just to sit and stare at the bike. He had always been scared to ride it, afraid to crash, or disobey some traffic law he somehow didn’t know about. He ignored his nerves and sat atop it. Felt it rumble to life underneath him. The first acceleration felt like he’d left his soul lagging behind his body. It eventually caught up. Muscle memory took over. 

As a teenager he had known all the best roads. The ones with no potholes, long straight stretches, and hills that felt like roller coasters to speed down. As an adult he walked everywhere. He never paid attention to the street unless he was crossing it. Knowing the layout of the crosswalks did not help him, within five minutes he was already stuck in traffic. A moped breezed past him, ducking between cars, something Song Lan wouldn’t dare to do. He wasn’t going to start violating traffic laws on his first day. They existed for a reason… It would have been easy though. He eyed the gap between cars. He could fit through. Traffic moved forward a few feet, as if to reward him for his patience. From his new vantage point he could see down a side alley. He watched some youngsters hanging around by a dumpster. One reminded him of his delinquent, it looked like him from behind. He berated himself for being so obsessed with the boy that he was seeing him everywhere. A delinquent shoved one of the others, and Song Lan realized they weren’t chatting but arguing. He wasn’t sure if he should call the cops. Would he have time before traffic moved? Would it be overdramatic? They could have just been rough-housing, he didn’t want to bother them with police if so. But what if there was a crime happening and he ignored it? When the familiar-looking one was shoved against the wall Song Lan realized it wasn’t just a resemblance, that was his delinquent. The others crowded around him. They didn’t seem like they were playing around. They knocked the boy to the ground, crowding around to kick him. Song Lan acted without thinking, rolling over the hump of the sidewalk. The confused men scattered when a motorcycle roared towards them. His delinquent curled in on himself, like he expected Song Lan to run him over rather than rescue him. Song Lan was glad he had left the extra helmet strapped behind him. He had been too excited to take it inside and shove it in a closet somewhere before leaving. He held it out for the delinquent. Waiting for him to respond, he had time to reflect that offering up the back of your motorcycle to a stranger you had only talked to once before was crazy. But the boy must have been crazy too, because he staggered to his feet and tried to shove the helmet on. His ponytail was in the way, and Song Lan got to admire the view of him removing the band from his hair, letting it fall loose over his shoulders, before he pulled the helmet on. He looked cute in that too. Unlike Song Lan’s, it didn’t cover his face. The boy licked the blood off his split lip, and looked at the motorcycle like he wasn’t quite sure how to get on. He didn’t wait for instruction though, decisively slinging a leg over and wrapped his arms around Song Lan’s waist. He tensed. Despite offering, Song Lan hadn’t thought that far ahead. The delinquent was so close, touching him everywhere. At least it was through multiple layers of clothes. Song Lan was surprised by how not bad it felt. He reached a hand down to the boy’s ankle, guiding his foot to where it was supposed to rest, not wanting to yell instructions at him over the sound of the engine. He adjusted to the correct position and Song Lan accelerated. His arms gripped tighter and Song Lan forgot to breathe for longer than was probably healthy. 

By the time his rational brain kicked back in he had ignored traffic laws, darted in between cars, and just thoroughly shown off for the delinquent. He could have dropped him off somewhere. In front of the convenience store? The delinquent could have bought himself first-aid supplies inside. Why had Song Lan pulled into his apartment parking lot with the delinquent still seated behind him? He shut off the engine and waited. The boy made no attempt to detach himself, so Song Lan had to be the one to make an awkward move to climb off first. He pulled off his helmet and the boy’s eyes widened for a second before he covered it with a grin. Song Lan ran a hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t sticking up strangely. “Would you like to come inside?”  

His eyes lit up and he nodded. Perhaps he really was homeless, he seemed a little over-eager about the offer. It was too late to renege. He led the boy inside. The sound of stomping combat boots bounced off the walls, but the noise was unlike the usual lonely echoes. He grabbed some mail Song Lan had left on the table and started reading through it, as if that wasn’t completely invasive. 

“Song Lan, huh?” His name in the delinquent’s mouth did strange things to him. It was dangerous. What was he doing?  “Aren’t you gonna ask my name too?” 

“What’s your name?” Song Lan questioned, as ordered.

“Xue Yang.” He appreciated that Xue Yang did not hold out his hand to shake, even if that was only because he was too busy snooping. Was it still snooping, if he did it right in front of him? “Wait, are you seriously a professor? That totally suits your image.” 

Song Lan grabbed the stack of mail away from him, suddenly remembering he could probably get his banking information from it. If he didn’t have that already from hacking his phone. Maybe the whole fight had been a setup to trick Song Lan into bringing him home with him. 

No. He was being paranoid again. And the blood on the boy’s chin was real. Why were they just standing there? Song Lan rushed off to grab his first-aid kit. By the time he got from the hallway to the bathroom, and from the bathroom back to Xue Yang again, the boy was mooching through Song Lan’s fridge. He was embarrassed at how messily he had unpacked the groceries, but then he remembered no one but him would care. 

“Can I have some of this?” Xue Yang asked, pulling out the carton of milk and going to drink it before waiting for an answer. 

Song Lan grabbed it away from him before all his mouth-germs could get on it. He didn’t want to end up pouring an entire carton of milk down the drain later. That would be a waste. Also he would have to go to the convenience store to get more. “I’ll get you a glass.” Song Lan couldn’t tell if Xue Yang was sneering or smiling politely. Could he have something like the cheerful equivalent of a resting-bitch face?  Whatever the expression meant, it was attractive. Why had he brought him into his apartment? It was like those people who kept a pet tiger inside a suburban home. Xue Yang didn't belong there, drinking his milk like a stray kitten. He watched him down the entire glass in one go, as if he was afraid it might be taken away before he could finish it. Song Lan held out the first-aid kit and Xue Yang looked at it like he didn’t know what it was. “Do you need me to…” Song Lan regretted offering as he did it. 

Xue Yang tilted his head. “Sure?” He didn’t sound like he even knew what he was agreeing to, but Song Lan ripped open an alcohol wipe regardless. 

He tried not to enjoy dabbing it against the boy’s lip too much. He was practically touching his mouth. He wasn’t used to being that close to someone so alluring. With Xingchen, the two of them had never been touchy. They’d respected each other's boundaries almost too much. It had led to stagnation in the relationship early on, which they were never able to break free from. When he was younger Song Lan had driven himself sick thinking about it. Xingchen had never shown any physical attraction to him at all. It made him think he had only agreed to be in a relationship with Song Lan out of pity. When his friend had found out about his crush in highschool and agreed to date, it had been the happiest day of Song Lan’s life. He kept expecting to wake up from it, like a really good dream. Before that he had thought he was doomed to be alone forever. He would never meet another gay man, never mind one who actually liked him. The more time passed without Xingchen trying to kiss him, the more he started to question. Had Xingchen been straight all along? Only with him because he was too selfless to reject the pariah gay-kid whose crush on him had been outed? He wished he had asked when things were ending. Afterwards it was too late.  

He brought his attention back to the task at hand, self-conscious. He must have been making a weird face, thinking about such a depressing topic. Xue Yang wasn’t looking at him with his usual sneer. It seemed out of character. What Song Lan was doing must have been hurting him, but he was trying not to show it. He wished he had gloves on, as it was difficult putting a bandage over the cut on his cheek without letting their skin brush. He could feel the warmth and softness right through the bandaid. It left his fingers tingling. “Are you bleeding anywhere else?” 

Xue Yang shook his head. “All good.” Suddenly he leaned in closer. Song Lan thought he was about to be headbutted. He ducked out of the way, and only afterwards realized that had more likely been an attempt at a kiss. His heart was racing, but Xue Yang looked completely cool despite the awkward rejection. Maybe he was hurting quietly, like with the rubbing alcohol. 

“Do you want something to eat?” Song Lan offered in guilty panic. 

Xue Yang stared blankly. “What?”

“Have you had dinner yet?” 

“No?” Xue Yang looked like he was trying to decode a trick question. 

“Do you like noodles?” 

“I guess.”

Song Lan gratefully took the excuse to keep himself busy. Xue Yang pulled the milk carton out of the fridge again and scoffed when Song Lan ordered “Use a glass.”

“I was gonna.” His eyes searched the counters for the one he had previously emptied, but Song Lan had already put it in the dishwasher when he wasn’t paying attention. He grabbed a fresh one from the cupboard before Song Lan could do it for him.  “Soooo…” He hopped up to sit on the counter. 

It was too late to stop him. Song Lan swallowed his discomfort. He would be thoroughly cleaning everything after the delinquent left anyway. “So?” Song Lan asked, when he realized Xue Yang hadn’t finished his thought. 

He hummed, apparently trying to come up with a topic for conversation. “What do you teach?” 

“Law.”

“Nice. You into serving justice then? Got any handcuffs?” 

“What? Why would a lawyer need handcuffs?”

“Fuck if I know. What sort of shit are you into then?”

Song Lan didn’t have any hobbies, so he wasn’t sure what to say. No, wait. That was the old him. “Motorcycles.”

He scoffed. “How does that work? Like, on the motorcycle?” 

He had just given him a ride. He knew about his hobby, so Song Lan didn’t understand the mocking reaction. If he was going to make fun of him for being an old man with a motorcycle hobby, couldn’t he have done it earlier? Then he wouldn’t have bothered to invite him in. Well… who was he kidding? He probably still would have. He couldn’t leave the boy bleeding in the parking lot. He wasn’t that hypersensitive to teasing. He focused his attention away from the boy’s snickering and onto the sizzle of the frying pan. 

“You’re shy, huh?”  

Song Lan didn’t respond, adding noodles to the water he had brought to a boil instead. Being ignored just set off another fit of giggles from the strange boy. Song Lan heard him hop down from his perch on the counter. The clomp of his boots sneaking up on him from behind. He came close enough that Song Lan could feel his breath on the back of his neck. “You should take off your shoes. I’ll get you some slippers.” In all the chaos he had somehow forgotten to offer. He could hear the laughter at his expense again as he fled.

He cringed, watching as Xue Yang put his bare feet into the guest slippers. Why wasn’t he wearing socks? That could not have been comfortable in those clunky boots. The more time he spent with him, the more he thought he might be homeless. He seemed feral. The way he ate especially. When Song Lan put the noodles in front of him he consumed half his portion in one bite. Song Lan emptied everything left in the pan into his dish and he looked like he had just won a prize. It very much reminded Song Lan of a stray cat he had snuck food to as a child. He had always been afraid it was going to choke, watching it eat.

Xue Yang finished long before him, despite the extra serving. Then there was awkward silence as Song Lan tried to catch up. He could feel eyes on him, but refused to make eye contact. 

“What’s for dessert?” 

“Oh, um…” Song Lan hadn’t planned for that. How embarrassing. “I don’t have anything.”

“I can make something.” Xue Yang started rummaging through his cupboards. He found the bag of sugar like he was magnetized to it. Song Lan watched, bemused, as he put something together. It was only eggs, milk, and sugar, yet somehow he dirtied so many bowls in the process. When he was finished, Song Lan made the mistake of trying to see what he had made. “Don’t look,” Xue Yang hissed, shielding his creation from view, “it needs to cool first.”  

“You’re childish.”

Xue Yang shoved whatever it was into the fridge and turned on him, stalking close. Song Lan’s fight-or-flight response activated. He backed away, until he was pressed against the kitchen island. “Is that what you’re into?” 

“What?” Song Lan had to put his hands on Xue Yang’s chest to stop him from getting even closer. 

He rolled his eyes. “I can be childish, if you’re into that.”

“No!”

“Well, tell me what you are into.”

“N-nothing.”

“Nothing? What the fuck am I doing here then?”

“Eating dinner?”

Xue Yang snorted. “And that’s it?”

“Making dessert?”

“Stop playing dumb.”

“Did you think I was propositioning you?” 

“You weren’t? Dude, what the hell?”

“I was just helping.” The look of disbelief on Xue Yang’s face really made him feel like he had done something wrong, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t. “Rescuing someone shouldn’t lead to sex, especially if that someone is half your age.”

“Rescuing? Don’t be dramatic. I had it under control. And you’d have to be sixty for me to be half your age.” 

“You’re… thirty? You look younger than that- I mean- Under control? You were on the ground.” 

“I was about to turn it around. So, are you sixty then or what? I don’t care by the way.”

“You should care,” Song Lan said, reaching for a dish towel in front of himself protectively. 

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“I am forty-nine.”

“See, that’s not that bad.” 

“Compared to sixty?”

“Are you gonna be weird about it?”

“You’re being weird about it.” Song Lan tried to shove him back, but it just caused him to lean in further. 

“Not shy then? Repressed. I can work with that.”

“I don’t appreciate people touching me.” 

“You will when I do it.” 

“You won’t be doing anything – other than eating dessert – and you won’t even be doing that if you keep pushing.” 

Xue Yang rolled his eyes. “I fucking cooked it.”

“It is my food, and my home.” 

“Whatever, Dad.” 

He cringed. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Whatever you want, A-Lan.” 

He fought down the urge to tell him not to call him that either, it felt petty. He also fought down the urge to throw caution, and morality, to the wind and let the boy do whatever he wanted with him. “Xue Yang,” he said sternly, hoping he could interpret what he wanted just from that, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted himself. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Xue Yang stepped away. Song Lan shouldn’t have felt disappointed. “Let’s just eat the fucking dessert warm.”

Song Lan didn’t even know what it was, so he had no opinion. Xue Yang continued to not let him see, as he transferred it to a plate. He placed it in front of him with a proud flourish. A perfect little caramel custard was not what he was expecting. It didn’t suit Xue Yang’s image. Maybe it did. The look on his face, waiting to see his reaction, was just as cute. Song Lan smiled, and it wasn’t put on to be polite. Xue Yang ducked his head, and shied away to plate his own custard. Was he blushing? He ate the dessert a lot slower than the earlier meal. Apparently he could savour some things. Song Lan wanted to compliment his cooking, but after everything he was too embarrassed. Had he done something to make the young man feel pressured to pretend to be attracted to him? Made him feel like he owed him something? Was Xue Yang a prostitute? Could Song Lan have been that oblivious to the situation the entire time? It made sense, with him giving out his number to lecherous old men. If he had called him, would he have been given rates? Some devious voice in his head informed him this meant sleeping with him was a real possibility, but shame quickly overwrote the thought. How terrible, that the boy felt obligated to sleep with him just to survive. He was not so disgusting as to take advantage of that. “If you are ever hungry, you’re welcome to come here to eat,” Song Lan reassured him.

“Like my dessert that much, do you?” 

Song Lan shrugged. “Yes? It was very good.” 

“Shut up.” Xue Yang looked like he was fighting the urge to crawl under the table and hide. He shoved the last bite of dessert into his mouth and shot up from the table. “Well, gotta get going now. See ya. Bye.” He blurted, awkward enough to rival Song Lan himself. He kicked the slippers across the room. 

The clomp of boots, echoing in the hall, was the last thing Song Lan got before the suffocating silence was back. After all that racket it was somehow even harder to tolerate. 

The next morning Song Lan went to the convenience store without an excuse. There was food in the fridge. Even the extra custards Xue Yang had left behind. Though, he enjoyed seeing them whenever he opened his fridge so much that he couldn’t imagine actually eating them. He just wanted to check Xue Yang was okay. He had been injured after all. What if he had internal bleeding? Song Lan hadn’t given him particularly thorough care. It absolutely was not just that he would have taken any excuse to see the delinquent again. It was a huge disappointment however, when he arrived to find the front of the store deserted. Not a delinquent in sight. He sighed, and turned his bike around. 

When he stopped by again after work, it was getting a little harder to deny he was enamored. It had been difficult to even deliver his lectures that day, his mind kept straying. When he didn’t find him a second time he started to panic. What if he never saw him again? What if he crawled behind a dumpster and succumbed to his injuries? What if he thought Song Lan was weird and was avoiding him? He had really made a fool of himself the night before. He arrived home and there was a familiar figure slumped against the front door of his apartment building. “Finally, I am starving.” Xue Yang hopped to his feet when he spotted him. 

Be careful what you feed, it will come back, Song Lan thought to himself, as if he wasn’t entirely satisfied with this turn of events. Xue Yang followed him inside without another word. Song Lan didn’t know what to say. He was terrible at making conversation under the best circumstances, but what did he have to talk about with a delinquent two decades younger than he was?  “You might be more comfortable waiting for the food to be done in the living room.” He wouldn’t be obligated to talk to him if he was in the other room.  Xue Yang was distracted, changing into slippers. He didn’t give any indication he had heard him. Song Lan waited until he was finished to gesture towards the other room. Xue Yang smiled blankly at him, but made no attempt to go. Was he being deliberately obtuse? “Through here,” Song Lan led. 

Xue Yang made a b-line for his book shelf, excited by a new chance to snoop, he presumed. “Don’t you have anything good?” He pulled out a book and started flipping through it. “The Politics of Agricultural Subsidies? The fuck is this?” He placed the book back on the shelf in entirely the wrong spot, and Song Lan had to move it back where it belonged. Yes, his book collection was alphabetized. “Don’t you read fiction?” Song Lan shook his head, and Xue Yang looked smug for some reason. “Why not?” 

Song Lan shrugged. “Do you?”

“Of course. Reading is cheap as hell, as long as you don’t get too many late fees at the library – though, even if you do, their security is terrible.” 

“You steal from the library?”

“I bring them back,” he muttered. Song Lan wasn’t sure what to say to that which would sound either enabling or like a lecturing parent, so he said nothing, which made things awkward. “Good to know I am more well-read than a college professor anyway, “ Xue Yang bragged. His eyes strayed to the coffee table and his expression morphed into a glare. “Who were you playing board games with?” 

Was he jealous of the half-finished game of chess on the coffee table? “I was practicing alone.” 

Xue Yang moved one of the knights across the board. “Wow, you are such a loser.” He sounded happy about it. 

Song Lan put the piece back to where it had been. “That was an illegal move.” 

“Well, what the fuck would I know? You think I do nerd shit like this?” 

“Do you want me to teach you? We could play a game after dinner,” Song Lan tried. He wasn’t sure if Xue Yang was mocking him, or just insecure about his lack of knowledge. 

“Whatever,” he huffed and flopped onto the couch. “If you are so desperate that you’re sitting around alone, playing with yourself, might as well.” His smile was probably directed at his own innuendo, rather than excitement to learn the game. He pulled out his phone and stopped paying attention to him, so Song Lan took that as him being dismissed to make dinner. 

Even when there were gaps in the food preparation process, where he could have gone back to the living room, Song Lan shamefully avoided his guest. If given the chance he was sure to say something he would regret. Inevitably though, he could only avoid him for so long. “The food is ready.” 

Xue Yang made a hum of acknowledgement, but didn’t look up from his phone. Song Lan stood, not knowing what to do, for another full minute, until Xue Yang finished what he was doing and finally put down the phone. Song Lan missed the days before cell phones – but then felt old for thinking that and blocked his thought. He followed Xue Yang into the kitchen, where instead of sitting down at the table he grabbed his plate and then wandered off with it. Song Lan copied him in confusion. Xue Yang placed his food on the coffee table and started organizing the chess board with one hand, and cramming food in his mouth with the other. Song Lan never ate in places other than the kitchen table, but he didn’t want to be a stick-in-the-mud so he sat on the couch. 

“You be white,” Xue Yang mumbled, around a mouthful of food. 

“You’re a beginner, you should play white.”

“No way.” Xue Yang spun the board on the table so it was positioned how he wanted. “Then when I beat your ass you’ll blame it on that.” 

Song Lan wasn’t sure why, but he found his overconfidence endearing. “You can’t expect to win your first match. I’ll just take you through the basics.”

“No need. I looked up the rules.” 

Song Lan held back the desire to ask why he had done that when he’d just agreed to teach him. He was a professor. Surely he could have delivered the information to him better than the first results of a search engine. Xue Yang was rushing. Would he feel guilty saying he hadn’t actually wanted to play? Was he trying to get it over with as fast as he could? Had Song Lan made him feel pressured to stay after eating, when that was all he came round for? A quick game during dinner would be enough for him to remove the feeling of obligation, which Song Lan wished he hadn’t imparted to begin with. “We don’t have to play, if you’d rather just eat.”

“Why the fuck would I learn the rules if I didn’t want to play?” He glowered. Song Lan gave up and moved one of the white pawns. Xue Yang mirrored the move. “This is what you do for fun, huh? All alone…” 

“Yes.” 

“You could just download an app and play against a computer if you are that friendless”

“Hnm.” 

“What do I get if I win?” 

“What do you want?” Song Lan immediately regretted asking. 

Xue Yang grinned and put a hand to his chin, overdramatically thoughtful. “I can think of lots of things, but I am not sure you would deliver.” 

Song Lan silently agreed with that assessment. He took a bite of food while he waited for Xue Yang to move a piece, rather than thinking about a reward he was not going to get. There was no way he would win on his first attempt. 

“So…” Xue Yang moved another pawn. “You are gay, right? I’m never wrong.” 

The move Song Lan made in response was terrible, but he was too busy panicking. How could he tell? Could everyone? No. He had probably figured it out because of the blatant ogling. It was his own fault. How was he supposed to respond? Would he encourage more of the behavior from last night if he was honest? “I don’t see how it is relevant.” 

“Oh, yeah. Not at all.” Xue Yang rolled his eyes. “Fine. If I win then I get your watch.” 

Song Lan looked down at his wrist in confusion. It was not a nice watch. Why would anyone want that shabby old thing, especially a trendy delinquent with much better fashion sense than him? “It’s not valuable.” 

“If it was about value we’d just bet money. That is not the point.” 

“What is?”

“Making you look stupid, of course.” 

Song Lan took off his watch and placed it at the center of the table. He couldn’t deny he was amused by the antics. “What if I win?” 

Xue Yang patted himself down, but didn’t seem to come away with anything. “Uhh, want me to wash your bike for you or something?” 

“No.” 

“Are you sure? I’ll even do it in a bikini.”

“No thank you.”

“How about I cook tomorrow?” 

It was embarrassing that the promise of him visiting another day in a row sparked a feeling of warmth in Song Lan’s chest. “Alright.” 

“Great. I’ll do it in a bikini.” 

“Please don’t.”

“Okay, nothing but an apron.” Xue Yang’s next move was good. Song Lan hoped it was because he was learning and adapting, rather than holding back his skill-level to trick him into lowering his guard. It hardly seemed worth it for an old watch. He played aggressively. At first Song Lan thought he was taking so many of the younger man’s pieces because he was sloppy, as you would expect for a beginner, but the more the game progressed the more he realized the self-sacrifice was intentional. That kind of play seemed to be the delinquent’s favorite. Other times he would make the worst move possible. He seemed to relish in keeping Song Lan consistently unsteady, hiding if his plays were strategy or dumb-luck. It couldn’t be luck though. Song Lan would have won a lot earlier if that was all he had going for him. He was smarter than he looked. Too smart. It scared Song Lan – gave credence to some of his more paranoid theories for why the man may have taken an interest in him. Was he falling victim to some sort of scam? Was his watch only the beginning? One loss leads to another and another? “Check,” Xue Yang said. 

Song Lan looked at the board. Something was off. There hadn’t been a move Xue Yang could have made to put him into check. He rewound the match in his head to make sure. “You cheated.” 

“Pfft, don’t be a sore loser.” 

“It wasn’t even a good move, I can take your queen now. Are you sure you want that piece there?” 

“I didn’t cheat.”

“You made a mistake then?”

“No I fucking didn’t.”

Song Lan moved Xue Yang’s piece back to its original place. “This was here.” 

“Whatever. This game is fucking boring anyway. You’re just mad because I was gonna win.” Xue Yang grabbed the watch, and stormed off. 

Song Lan was baffled. If he had known he’d wanted his ugly old watch that bad he would have just given it to him. He heard the front door slam and looked down at the board with a sigh. Not finishing the game was unsatisfying. He resigned to playing by himself once again. He thought out all the possible ways the game could have gone over the course of the next hour. He must have become out of practice since the last time he had played against a real person. It had been nearly a decade since he and Xingchen had a game. He was too used to his own strategies. He hadn’t even noticed how badly he was losing. If he hadn’t cheated Xue Yang would have won within a few moves. Song Lan would have folded had he realized. Any way that he played out the rest of the game in his head, Xue Yang would have won. It was ironic, the move he made when cheating was the only one that gave Song Lan any chance of winning. Had he known that? Was he trying to prolong the game? Why? Song Lan didn’t understand young people. He went to eat one of Xue Yang’s leftover custards for dessert, wishing he wasn’t doing it alone. 

The next day Song Lan was off work. It was embarrassing how many times he went to check the front door to see if there were any delinquents leaning against it. It made it feel less fateful when he just so happened to walk into the hallway at the exact time an argument broke out. “You have to leave,” yelled Song Lan’s neighbor. 

“Fuck off, I live here,” Xue Yang lied. 

“Then go back outside and use your own key to get in.” 

“Why would I do that when I am already in here, bitch? Stop wasting my time.” 

“You can’t just run in the door behind me, what if you are a stalker or a criminal?” 

“They have apartments too.”

Song Lan cleared his throat. Xue Yang looked pleased to see him, in a smug sort of way. It made it hard for Song Lan to not smile back, but he didn’t think his neighbor would appreciate it. 

“Ah, there you are, babe.” Xue Yang looped their elbows together. Song Lan managed to resist the urge to jerk away, only because he got distracted noticing Xue Yang had his watch on. It didn’t suit the rest of his outfit, the faded brown leather clashing against the black. He hadn’t expected him to actually wear it. It made Song Lan feel a strange sense of possession over him. “Tell this busy-body I live here.” 

“You don’t-” 

Xue Yang elbowed him in the ribs. “Well, not officially.” He winked. “Don’t tell the landlord, he’ll try to scam us out of more rent.” He dragged Song Lan away, rather than deal with whatever response the neighbor would have given. “Sorry. Might have just got you in trouble,” he said flippantly. 

“You could have just used the buzzer.” 

“Why would I do that when she so nicely held the door open for me?” Xue Yang held up a huge plastic bag. “I brought dinner.”

Song Lan watched him arrange an excessive amount of take-out containers on the kitchen table. “Are you throwing a party?” He wouldn’t put it past him to be so rude as to invite a swarm of delinquents over. 

It was a relief that Xue Yang snorted at the idea. “This is just for us.” 

“Why?” 

“I lost that game last night, remember?” 

Song Lan wasn’t sure if he wanted to argue that they both knew he hadn’t, or clarify that he had meant ‘why so much food?’ not ‘why food’ in general. 

He put a couple plates on the table and watched as Xue Yang took it upon himself to load them up with a bit of everything, not bothering to ask what he liked first. It was a good thing Song Lan wasn’t a picky eater. At least not when it came to flavor. He was picky about the locations he was willing to order food from. The greasy mess before him did not seem like the type of stuff you would get from a place Song Lan’s neuroses would approve of, but he was actively trying to not think about it. 

“Oh, taste this one!” Xue Yang shoved a spoon in his face. Song Lan didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction to whatever extra-hot ghost pepper monstrosity he had just been fed. Xue Yang looked disappointed by his neutrality, and took a bite himself. He immediately started coughing. “What the fuck? Do you have no taste buds?” He then tried to dump a bunch of it onto Song Lan’s plate. He grabbed it away before he could, dropping it directly into the trash can, much to Xue Yang’s amusement.  

That became their routine. Every day Song Lan would come home from work and find Xue Yang waiting outside, sometimes with take-out, sometimes expecting him to cook. He seemed to have some sort of score he kept, but it wasn’t one-to-one. Song Lan had yet to figure it out. Possibly it was based on how much he enjoyed the food. He noticed when he cooked something Xue Yang enjoyed he would bring take-out multiple days in a row after. Whereas when he hated it there would be nothing the next day. It gave Song Lan the chance to redeem himself. As much as he didn’t want to encourage any feelings the delinquent may be developing, give him false hope, or incur debts, the routine was enjoyable. It may have been selfish, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Xue Yang to stop coming around. And anyway, he was probably overestimating his importance in Xue Yang’s life. The fact they ate dinner together didn’t mean the delinquent would fall for him. If anything he was probably losing interest. Or perhaps they were becoming friends. Maybe that had been all Xue Yang wanted from the start. Young people who were attracted to older men just wanted a surrogate father. All Xue Yang needed to sort out his feelings was positive attention from an authority figure, and once he had that he would realize it was all he was looking for. Song Lan’s guilt had faded almost entirely into the background, until one day after work. 

The walk home had been miserable, caught in a thunderstorm. His umbrella almost turned inside out from the wind multiple times, not doing much good shielding him from the rain. He felt dry by comparison when he spotted Xue Yang, soaking wet, sitting in his usual place. He dragged him inside. 

“Why didn’t you come by later? You know what time I get off work by now.”

Xue Yang shrugged, looking as if he didn’t mind the state he was in at all. The only thing that betrayed him was his lip trembling slightly with shivers. “Was bored.”

“And you find sitting outside in the rain entertaining?” 

“Get off my ass. It is none of your fucking business. Anyway, even if I got here right at your usual time I would have been waiting ages. You’re late.” 

Song Lan looked down at his watch, the new one he’d bought to replace the one Xue Yang took, then realized the time wasn’t the point. “Are you homeless?”

Xue Yang laughed. Song Lan was learning his various categories of laughter by that point. This one was his ‘I can’t believe you just said that’ laugh. “Is that why you feed me? Try to start a soup kitchen?”

“Where do you sleep?”

“I am not fucking homeless. I sleep at my own place.”

“Then why do you-”

“My work is just around the corner, and my apartment is on the other side of town. It would be a waste of time to walk all the way there just to turn around and come back.” 

“Where do you work?”

“What are you, a cop?”

“Why would the police want to know? Is it something illegal?” 

Xue Yang chuckled. His ‘you are so stupid’ chuckle. Not one of Song Lan’s favorites. He pulled out his keys and Xue Yang snatched them from his hand to unlock the door himself. Song Lan hadn’t figured out why he felt the need to do weird things like that. Impatience? Some sort of dominance play? Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to brush hands. Song Lan wasn’t sure if the touches were on purpose. He got away with touching him a lot, despite knowing he didn’t like it. He would do it in a way where he had plausible deniability, close enough to an accident that Song Lan felt too awkward to ask him not to do it again. He could have been reading too much into it. Not everyone put that much thought into every casual brush of the hand. Xue Yang probably hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. Song Lan always did though, every touch sent a tingle through his entire body, and not the kind he got from disgust. His skin didn’t crawl, it ached for more. “Stop right there,” Song Lan blurted, watching Xue Yang about to throw himself onto the sofa, still sopping wet. 

“What?” He looked genuinely confused as to what could be the problem. 

“Use my shower. You can’t stay in those clothes.” 

He scoffed. “If you want to get me out of my clothes all you have to do is ask.” 

Song Lan rolled his eyes and left for the kitchen. He heard the bathroom door a few seconds later, so Xue Yang must have followed orders. 

By the time dinner was ready Xue Yang was on the couch filling out the crossword puzzle from Song Lan’s newspaper. He looked soft. That was in part due to the fluffy robe he had on. It filled Song Lan with fondness, up until the tinge of familiarity resolved itself and he realized where it had come from. Xingchen’s. One of the few things that Song Lan still had of his. Xue Yang had taken it out of the closet without asking. He should have felt angry, or violated maybe, instead he wanted to kiss him. That was new. Strange. He couldn’t even blame it on residual feelings, him reminding him of Xingchen, he had never wanted to kiss Xingchen like that. Not really. The anxiety always overwhelmed him to the point where the idea of it wasn’t pleasant. The thought always made him feel dirty, contagious. They had tried a few times, early on into the relationship, but it had only ever been awkward. When Xingchen had given up, never tried again, Song Lan thought, ‘I knew it! He is straight. If he were really attracted to me he would want to kiss me more than this.’ He noticed the gap in his logic after a while. He hadn’t wanted to kiss Xingchen either, and he certainly wasn’t straight himself. More likely he was just terrible at kissing and Xingchen was too polite to say. Xue Yang was probably great at kissing. Song Lan would make a fool of himself if he tried to do it with him. He wanted to though. He wasn’t sure what had changed. Where was this feeling with Xingchen when it would have actually been appropriate? Why did his traitorous body decide to want it with the one who would probably reject him and mock him the second he knew how inexperienced he was? And what about what came after? There was nothing underneath that robe. The delinquent was practically naked, his long hair, still damp, hanging loose over his shoulders. It was likely Song Lan could do whatever he wanted to him, and the other man wouldn’t resist. That was what the constant flirting meant, right? If it was anything else, a joke or a ploy, it would be a strange long con. Xue Yang never tried to get anything from him but food and attention. “Feeling better now?” He asked, in an attempt to appear normal.

Xue Yang grunted in response, not looking up from the paper. The room suddenly went pitch black and Song Lan had the ridiculous thought the gods were punishing his lecherous gaze by turning him blind. 

Xue Yang’s phone flashlight lit up and proved the insane thought wrong. 

“Power’s out. Hope you finished cooking.” 

“It’s ready. Let me find some candles.”

“How romantic.” 

“So that we can see.”

Xue Yang snorted. “Fine. Be like that.” 

He had not been wrong, it was romantic. The fact Xue Yang hadn’t bothered to change out of the robe to eat wasn’t helping Song Lan keep his thoughts platonic. His collarbone was showing, it was practically pornographic. Song Lan resisted the urge to ‘accidentally’ drop a chopstick and get a glimpse under the table. It all felt very much like a date. Actually – he hadn’t noticed before, but were they dating? Could eating dinner together every night be construed as that? Was that how Xue Yang saw it? Song Lan eyed him suspiciously in the candlelight. He didn’t eat so fast anymore, seeming to have intentionally learned to match Song Lan’s pace. If he had let Xue Yang kiss him there would be no denying that they were dating. Did Xue Yang understand they weren’t? “This isn’t a date,” Song Lan clarified.

Xue Yang gave him a condescending look across the table, but didn’t say anything in response. Was that because he already knew they weren’t? Or because he didn’t believe him? Song Lan took a sip of water to steady himself. Did he want this to be a date? It was so much easier to not get what you wanted. Sure, it hurt, but not any more than the alternative would in the long run. Getting things over with fast was cleaner. He didn’t want to get what he wanted. What he wanted was complicated and messy. What he wanted was scary. He would be struggling even in an ideal situation, where he found someone his own age who he was completely compatible with. How would he ever explain things? He would never be able to meet expectations. It was embarrassing, at his age. Some part of him probably wanted someone younger, to even the playing field. Compared to someone his own age, Song Lan was grotesquely lacking in life experience. With someone younger he could play the mature one. He had figured himself out. There were plenty of beautiful people in the world, he could have been attracted to any of them. He must have latched onto Xue Yang because he felt some subconscious superiority towards him. Also it got him out of having to take any action. As the mature one he couldn’t do something so irresponsible as hook up with someone so much younger than him. But he couldn’t be with anyone his own age, since he was too inept. His subconscious got him caught up in circles to avoid taking responsibility for his own happiness. He was a coward. And there was no way he could win. Did the age gap really matter so much? It wasn’t like Xue Yang was a child. Yes there was a difference in maturity, but was it even possible to have a relationship without some sort of power imbalance being present? Were the circumstances different, he and Xue Yang may have actually been well matched. It would be much easier to overcome cowardice when someone else was taking the lead. All he would have to do was go along with it. Who was he kidding? That wasn’t a good reason. They weren’t well matched at all. Song Lan loved with his whole heart. In a different world he would have been with Xingchen until the day he died. He didn’t do casual flings. But he was nothing more than a whim for Xue Yang. He was excited to go after something taboo, something he couldn’t have, but he would tire of the novelty the second he got what he wanted.  

He wouldn’t just get bored, he would regret it. He would be disgusted when he experienced the reality of Song Lan in that way. He would probably do something horribly inappropriate without realizing. Even with another thirty-something he would expect a certain level of experience, but from someone so much older? He was expecting experience, skill, not ineptitude and the realities of an aging body. He didn’t understand what he was getting himself into. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” Xue Yang sounded like he already knew, and wanted to mock him for it. 

“My ex,” he said, since it wasn’t exactly a lie. 

Xue Yang wrinkled his nose. “Ew, why?” 

“Don’t say ‘ew’.”

“Are you one of those people who are all noble about their exes and refuse to say a bad word about them? Boring.” 

“He died.” It was a spiteful thing to drop in the middle of dinner, but Song Lan couldn’t help himself. He felt defensive whenever Xingchen was brought up. 

Xue Yang didn’t even bother to pretend to look sympathetic, but he shot Song Lan an assessing look. “What? Recently?”  

“A year ago. We had broken up before that.” 

“That’s good.” 

“No, it isn’t.” Song Lan took a breath. He didn’t want to snap, but he might if Xue Yang kept talking about it so casually. 

“Why? You would rather be a widow?” 

“If I was there, maybe he wouldn’t have-” 

“Wouldn’t have died? What, you’d have saved him? How?” 

Song Lan was too nauseous to continue eating. He pushed his leftovers across to Xue Yang. “He drowned.” 

“Like in a boating accident way or a Ningen Shikkaku way? Actually, never mind, forget I asked. If this isn’t a date, why the fuck are we talking about your dead ex?” 

“Are you implying dead exes would be an acceptable topic of conversation on a date?” 

“I don’t fucking know, do I look like someone who goes on dates?” 

“Have you never been on a date?” Song Lan felt guilty for asking, Xue Yang looked like he might be covering up some embarrassment. 

“I don’t need to bribe people with food to get them to fuck me.”

“People don’t go on dates just to bribe people into bed. I went on dates with my ex all the time and they never ended with that.” 

“Must not have been very good dates.” 

“We managed to stay together for thirty years, they can’t have been that bad.”

“What the fuck, dude? That is like my whole life. You’re crazy. Did you drown him to get away from him after that long?” 

“Don’t joke about that.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Thirty years though? And the dates didn’t even end in sex? Sounds like a nightmare.” 

“We had the perfect relationship.” 

“Why?” He looked genuinely confused, not mocking for once.

Song Lan had always described his relationship that way, he never had to clarify why. He wasn’t actually sure. “We never fought. The day we broke up was our first fight.” 

“Pfft, that’s probably because you’re a pathetic people-pleaser, not because the relationship was perfect.” Xue Yang took a break from talking to inhale some food. That was good, Song Lan was getting pissed off. 

“There was never a single problem in the relationship.”

Xue Yang gave him an analyzing look, chewed, and swallowed. “So it was like that, huh? You stayed together so long because you were such a doormat you never gave him an excuse to break up with you. He musta been so relieved when you fought for the first time and he finally got a valid reason to dump you.” 

The power came back on at that moment. It was good timing, as it stopped Song Lan from saying something he would regret. He blew out the candles, and left the room. Xue Yang was laughing, but it was his ‘oh shit, I fucked up’ laugh, so at least it didn’t make Song Lan any angrier than he already was. When he wasn’t immediately followed he took the moment of peace as an opportunity to sit in his chair and meditate, but eventually Xue Yang appeared in the doorway. “Are you pissed at me?” 

“No.”

“Liar.” 

“It is not your fault.”

“It isn’t?”

“I shouldn’t have brought him up. I can’t talk about it without getting emotional.” 

“Well, you probably could have if you weren’t talking to me.” 

“I was the one who ended things. I told him to leave.” 

It was unusual to see Xue Yang hold back, but that was what he seemed to be doing. Instead of the usual sarcastic response, he wrapped a throw blanket around himself and laid down on the couch. “Why’d you break up?” he mumbled eventually. 

“I don’t know. I lost my temper with him.” 

“You do that?” 

“Doesn’t everyone?” 

“I guess.” He pulled the blanket over his head. The only part of him left visible was his long hair hanging over the arm of the couch.

Song Lan had the inexplicable urge to touch it. He was within reach, and Xue Yang probably wouldn’t even notice if he did – Just because you could do something didn’t mean you should. He was not going to touch Xue Yang’s hair.

He touched Xue Yang’s hair. He was pretty sure the delinquent had fallen asleep by that point anyway. The lump under the blanket hadn’t moved in half an hour and it was there tempting him the whole time. It was as silky as it looked. He wanted to tangle his fingers in it, but that would be taking it too far. He was not acting anything like the grown adult he was. Between the two of them, Xue Yang was probably the one with more maturity and sense. Or, was he just telling himself that because it was what he wanted to hear? An excuse to convince himself what he wanted was allowed? Humans could convince themselves of anything, how else had all the atrocities of history happened? It was all people telling themselves they were in the right, based on no evidence but their own biases and convoluted rationalizations. But in what way was he biased? Was there a genuine reason not to pursue things, or was he just too cowardly? He let his fingers brush over the strands of hair one last time before flicking off the lamp and taking himself to bed. 

In the dark of his bedroom, with nothing to keep him company but his imagination, he thought up a reality where the two of them could make things work, make up for the other’s shortcomings. Xue Yang didn’t understand dating, Song Lan didn’t understand physical intimacy. They were each as uncertain as the other in their own areas. He didn’t have to be the only fish out of water. 

He woke up with an inexplicable craving for seafood and wondered if Xue Yang would turn up his nose at a savory breakfast. He seemed like the type to take any opportunity to eat something sweet. Song Lan scanned his mental kitchen inventory. Crepes? He could probably make crepes. Xue Yang would like that. Unfortunately when he dragged himself from bed, he found Xue Yang was no longer there. The unpleasant silence was the only other occupant of the apartment, and he took his bike to the convenience store for breakfast, just to hear the engine revving. 

He longed for the silence back when he arrived at work and heard the racket. He hoped it was nothing he would have to involve himself in, but no such luck. When he turned the corner and saw who was yelling, and who was being yelled at, he felt obligated to intervene. A-Qing spotted him approaching and immediately took the escape route on offer, running over and latching onto his arm. He resisted the urge to shove her off. He had gotten used to Xue Yang doing things like that, but it didn’t translate to him being okay with anyone else doing it apparently. Nie Mingjue glared at him as if he was in trouble. Song Lan had to remind himself he had equal levels of authority, if not more, as he had been working there longer. “A-Qing, what did you do?” 

She gave him a dubious look. “Nothing?” 

When Nie Mingjue inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to start another tirade she seemed to think better of trying to keep quiet. “I just-” she interrupted. “I can’t help it if I’m stupid. It’s not like I’m an idiot on purpose.”

“You’re not stupid,” Song Lan said. 

“I don’t think I should get yelled at for failing a class. It is not like I want to.” 

Nie Mingjue looked like he would have smoke coming out of his ears if he was a cartoon character. “You didn’t study hard enough! Intellect has nothing to do with it.” 

“No. I studied a whole bunch, I am just really dumb,” she said confidently. 

“You’re going to lose your scholarship.” 

“Could you just like, not fail me a little bit, so that I don’t?”

“This is my fault,” Song Lan said. “I am mentoring you, if you failed a class I wasn’t paying enough attention to you.” 

A-Qing nodded. “Exactly. So really, if anyone should be getting yelled at, it is you.” She bolted off down the hall. 

Song Lan regretted standing up for her. He should have taken the long way to his office and avoided them entirely as soon as he heard a commotion. “Come to my office for lunch,” Nie Mingjue said. It felt like a threat. Song Lan reminded himself again of their equal authority.

Song Lan sat across from Nie Mingjue. Them on either side of the desk made it feel even more like he was about to get lectured, but there was nowhere else. "Nice plant," Song Lan said. He didn't know what else to do, other than stare at it.

"Thank you." Nie Mingjue stared at it too. "It's a ficus.” 

"Hmm."

"A gift from my brother."

"That's nice."

Song Lan had looked at the plant too long, it was becoming weird. He looked at Nie Mingjue instead. The tanned arms, covered in hair, sleeves rolled up as far as they could go over his bulging biceps, this should be his type, not feral young delinquents. Though Xue Yang wouldn’t really qualify as Song Lan’s ‘type’ either, he had never been attracted to anyone like him before. Did he even have a type? Ethereal beauties. Too kind. Over-giving. Always wearing white, a nice contrast to long black hair – maybe that was what drew him to xue yang, it was just the similar hair. A ridiculous comparison. The two were nothing alike. 

“How are you liking the bike?” 

“Oh, yes. It’s good.” Song Lan hated himself. He really couldn’t come up with something better to say than that?

“Good.” Nie Mingjue said back. 

It was probably Song Lan’s turn to make conversation. He needed more hobbies. The only thing on his mind was a certain delinquent, and he couldn’t very well make smalltalk about that. Or could he? They were colleagues. Possibly, with this lunch, they were even straying into friend territory. Friends went to each other for advice, didn’t they? 

“Could I ask for your opinion on something?” 

“Our mutual student?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Are you two close?”

“Oh, uh. No. I mean, yes, we are close. But I wanted to ask your advice about something personal.” 

He nodded absently, unpacking his lunch. 

“What do you think of age-gap relationships?” 

Nie Mingjue raised an eyebrow. “You are in one?” 

“No- I mean, I don’t know. I was considering it.”

Nie Mingjue scowled. “I don’t approve of that sort of thing.” 

“Ah, it is weird, right?” 

“It is disgusting. You shouldn’t take advantage of your position of power like that.” 

He was looking at him like he was a pedophile. It seemed unfair for the situation, but was that just Song Lan’s bias talking? Did the details matter when he was doing something wrong? Wrong was wrong. People who compared their wrongs to others to say it wasn’t as bad were just looking for an excuse. When Xue Yang was just a baby, he was a full grown man. People were allowed to find the relationship disgusting. It was to be expected even. He had spent all this time trying to convince himself he could have what he wanted, even though it was wrong, he needed a voice of reason like Nie Mingjue. He apparently wasn’t done expressing himself. “It is completely immoral, actually.” He grabbed a pen off his desk and started fiddling with it as if he wanted to snap it. “Have you acted on these feelings yet?” 

“No.”

“Good. You shouldn’t. If you don’t care about the morality of it, think of your job.”

Song Lan was pretty sure there was nothing in his contract that said he couldn’t date someone younger than him, but he supposed making the school look bad was a problem. That would be more likely to happen if it was revealed he was with a man though. Many of the creepy old men that worked at his college would joke with each other about which one of their female students they would sleep with the second they had graduated. A few of them had done it too, and were never reprimanded. Nie Mingjue seemed to avoid those people as much as Song Lan did, so perhaps he wasn’t aware. He seemed like the idealistic type. He probably didn’t realize the sort of behavior that was normalized in the school. 

“A lot of the professors do it,” Song Lan said, then felt gross when he realized it sounded like he was grouping himself in with them. 

Nie Mingjue threw his pen and it went straight through one of the leaves of his prized ficus before skittering across the floor. “If I hear you laid one hand on-” 

“No. You are right. I shouldn’t. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“You weren’t thinking. Your actions were being controlled by an entirely different piece of anatomy.” 

Song Lan looked at the floor in shame. It was good he had such a morally refined friend. He had always relied on Xingchen for stuff like this, he’d been his moral compass. Without him Song Lan was floundering. He had really let his standards drop for a pretty face. Xingchen was probably looking down on him ashamed. It wasn’t as though it was that much of an ask for him to just not get into a romantic relationship with someone significantly younger than him. He didn’t need it. He had been selfish to even entertain the idea. He’d have to make things clear with Xue Yang. He was not going there. 

“This is inappropriate.” 

Xue Yang looked at the takeout he’d brought over as if that was the problem. 

“We have been spending too much time together,” Song Lan clarified. 

“What are you on about now?” 

“You and me. I need to clarify, we are just friends.” 

“Friends?” Xue Yang said it like he didn’t know what the word even meant. 

“Nothing else is going to happen between us.” 

Xue Yang turned a glare on him that was genuinely scary, and when the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile it only made it worse. “Oh, really?” 

“Or – I would really like it if we could be friends.” 

“Fine.” Xue Yang shrugged. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

Song Lan had a brief moment where he thought it would really be that easy and nothing would change, but then Xue Yang grabbed the bag of takeout and stormed out. He wasn’t really sure what to do after that, other than go to the convenience store, because he had nothing else to eat for dinner. 

Xue Yang was avoiding him after that. Well, that may have been the wrong word for it. He didn’t have to actively avoid him, it wasn’t like they went to the same places, other than the one. He just stopped coming around. Song Lan didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurt by it. He brought it on himself. But it did have him thinking. Had Xue Yang ever actually enjoyed his company, or was he only around him with the expectation it would lead to something else? Had he just been trying to bribe his way into Song Lan’s bed with food the entire time? Friends could have dinner together, he hadn’t needed to stop coming around. Though, Song Lan had never had a friend who he ate dinner with every day, so maybe it had been ridiculous of him to expect things to stay the same. Were they ever friends? What had they been? Something. If they had been nothing at all, why would his stomach drop every time he arrived home and Xue Yang wasn’t waiting for him? He felt like an idiot. 

Xingchen used to make him a cup of tea when he got depressed. Since he had been gone, whenever Song Lan longed for that familiar comfort he would have to brew one for himself. Then he would play pretend. He never made it. Xingchen had placed it there when he wasn’t looking, then left him alone. It made him feel better, not more lonely. It was the same thing. Sitting alone with a mug of tea. The physical reality of the situation was identical. Most of life was being alone, whether you had someone or not. The idea of them was what kept you company while they were away. He didn’t need anyone really, if he could just hack his brain and convince it someone would be home later. That imaginary person didn’t need to be Xue Yang. He was fine with never seeing him again, just – he just wanted to know he was okay. He hadn’t gone this long without seeing him since the first time they met. Xue Yang had never been open about what it was he actually did when they were apart. Song Lan had suspicion it was something illegal. That lifestyle was dangerous. Xue Yang could be dying in a ditch somewhere and how would he know? He had no way to contact him – then he remembered. The first thing Xue Yang had ever done was give him his number. He’d never used it. He had completely forgotten he even had it. He went into his contacts and stared at ‘Future Boytoy <3’. He wasn’t sure if the feeling that shot through him was shame, or lust, or what, but it took him two days before he worked up the courage to actually call. 

“Yo.” 

He was surprised to hear Xue Yang’s voice actually coming through the phone, maybe he had still been expecting the prank sex-line. “Hello,” he said so his silence wouldn’t be hung up on. 

“Oh, hey buddy. What’s up?” 

Song Lan cringed. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I just wanted to… check in.” Hearing the familiar huff of laughter through the phone made his chest warm. He really was stupid. Why had he driven that away? Oh yeah. Morals. What was he doing? “I should go.” 

“Yeah, asshole. You should.” 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m gonna stab you. Fuck, you’re so annoying.” 

“Goodbye?” 

“Bye.” 

“Do you need anything?” 

“What the fuck would I need from you?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Idiot.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Dumbass.”

“Goodbye.”

“You already said that.” 

“I’m sorry for calling. I shouldn’t have.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Bye.”

“Fuck off.” Xue Yang finally hung up on him. Song Lan should have probably been feeling terrible after that, but instead he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He had missed him. Even his insults. He was losing his mind. He proved it further by immediately calling back. 

“What the fuck?” Xue Yang answered. 

“Do you want to come over?” 

He hung up on him again. 

Half an hour later he got a text that said ‘outside’.

The first thing Xue Yang did was shove him. Song Lan thanked the martial arts training he’d had as a kid for the fact he didn’t fall over backwards. Xue Yang looked even more annoyed by how ineffective his shove had been, and went in for a second. Song Lan grabbed his wrists and trapped him there. “I didn’t call you here to fight.”

Xue Yang laughed, stepping in closer. Song Lan tensed his hold and Xue Yang grinned. “What are you making for dinner then?” 

“I- I don’t know. I forgot to buy groceries.” He let go of Xue Yang’s wrists. It was a mistake, because he immediately snaked his arms around his waist. Song Lan wasn’t sure where to put his hands so he held them awkwardly in the air. “Stop it.” 

Xue Yang rolled his eyes. “Do you really want me to?”

“Someone is going to see.” The fact Song Lan got a thrill from the thought of someone seeing them like that was neither here nor there. 

“So what?” Xue Yang said. What else had he expected? 

He gave up, he didn’t really want him to stop anyway. “We could pick up something from the convenience store.” 

“Only if we can take the bike.” 

“So, does this mean you’ve finally gotten over yourself?” Xue Yang tossed a bag of candy into the basket Song Lan was carrying. “Are you just gonna ignore me? I can ask louder. ARE WE GOING TO FUCK NOW?” 

Song Lan slapped a hand over his mouth. Xue Yang started giggling into it, then licked it. He jerked his hand away. “That’s unhygienic.” He looked over his shoulders, to make sure no one had been listening. Luckily the store was empty, other than the clerk, who looked too bored to pay attention to anything around him. 

“Which is? Fucking or licking?” 

“Both.” Song Lan wiped off the spit onto Xue Yang’s sleeve. For some reason he looked pleased to be used as a towel.

“Is that what your problem is? I can clean up real good. I’ll take a bath in bleach if that’s what you want.” 

“Please don’t.”

“Well, what then?” 

“It is immoral.” 

“What? Are you homophobic or something? Seriously? Get with the times, old man.” 

“You are right, I am an old man.” Song Lan huffed under his breath, as a group of teenagers entered the store. ”The age difference is wrong.”  

“That’s it? You are so lame. How about I shoplift, then we can both be terrible people? It’ll cancel out.” 

“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“Sure they do. That’s why you can murder a murderer.” 

“False equivalency.”

“If I murder someone, then can we?”

Song Lan grabbed dinner rather than justifying him with an answer. 

“Why do you have to be so weird about it? Of course this is some martyr, self-sacrificial bullshit. You’re too nice,” Xue Yang said, not dropping the subject even as they entered the apartment. Why did he have to say things like that in a tone of voice like he thought it was all a joke?  

“It makes me uncomfortable that you see me as such a good person.”

“What the fuck does that mean? What is wrong with being good? Would you rather everyone think you’re a piece of shit? Trust me, it is not great.” 

“I can’t possibly live up to your standards.”

“What standards?” he scoffed.

“You could easily find someone better than me. Maybe you have just had bad experiences in the past which are causing you to idealize toxic relationship dynamics?” 

Xue Yang seemed to be losing interest in the conversation. He took his butterfly knife out of his pocket and started fiddling with it. “It is not that deep.” 

“Could I tell you what I think?” Song Lan asked.

Xue Yang raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you’re already doing?” 

“I mean, can you try not to get defensive?”

“Sure, Dad.” 

He didn’t bother telling Xue Yang not to call him that. It would only encourage him. “I get the feeling you hate the world and everyone in it.” 

“Yeah, and?” 

“That must be upsetting.”

He snorted. “Not really. It is what it is.” 

“You’re a pessimist, yet you are overly optimistic with how you perceive me.”

“Fine, I will stop. I get it. You’re just as much of an asshole as everyone else. Happy?” 

Song Lan sighed. Maybe Xue Yang would not get it no matter what he said. He had never been good at expressing himself. Xue Yang dug his knife into the table, leaving a large scratch behind. Did he want a fight? Song Lan wasn’t going to give him one. “Should we have some tea before dinner?” 

Xue Yang let out a small laugh, devoid of any feeling. “Fine.” 

Making the tea gave him something to do with his hands. It was a relief. Maybe Xue Yang was onto something with the knife. He placed the bag of sugar by him while he waited for the kettle to boil. 

“I don’t get what you fucking want from me.” Xue Yang mumbled. 

“I don’t want anything.”

“Bullshit.” 

“Well, what do you want?” 

It was the first time he had seen a tinge of embarrassment cross Xue Yang’s face. His eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal, before he steeled himself and stared Song Lan down. “I have been pretty obvious about that.” 

“Have you?”

He glared. “How about I show you?” 

Song Lan felt his face heating, so he turned his back on Xue Yang and pretended to be fussing with the tea, even though the kettle hadn’t boiled yet. 

“Did you know you can just do stuff sometimes? You don’t have to think it to death.” 

“That is a very immature approach to life.” 

“Yeah, well I am fucking immature.” Xue Yang jabbed his knife into the table hard enough it was left standing on its own. It made Song Lan jump. “That is the problem, right? You think I’m some idiot kid who isn’t good enough for you.”

That wasn’t the impression Song Lan had been wanting to give at all. He felt like an asshole for not worrying more about how Xue Yang had been taking all of the rejection. “I am the one who is not good enough for you.” He placed a mug of tea down on the table with enough force he spilled some. 

Xue Yang avoided his eyes, trailing a finger through the stray droplets. “Stop making excuses.” 

“They aren’t excuses.” Maybe they were, but not how Xue Yang seemed to think. Song Lan sat down and watched him load his tea with more sugar than a can of coke, not even bothering to use a spoon, just dumping it straight from the bag. “It was never about you. You’re- never mind. Just drink your tea.” 

“Yeah, it was never about me. You’re so fucking self-centered.”

“For caring about you?” 

“You don’t give a single shit what I want.”

He couldn’t exactly defend himself. Had he ever considered what Xue Yang wanted, or only assumed he knew better?  “I’ve been disrespectful”

Xue Yang opened his mouth like he expected to have to argue. It took him a second to realize Song Lan was agreeing with him. “Yeah, you have.” He looked like he was still expecting a ‘but’. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Xue Yang laughed. Song Lan wasn’t sure what it meant. He watched as he pulled the knife out of the table and used it to stir his tea. “Do you want a spoon?” 

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious why he would need such a thing. Song Lan tried not to think about how dirty that knife probably was. Xue Yang licked any residual tea off it and he cringed. “You’re apologizing, yet you’re still looking at me like you think I’m disgusting. Why do you keep letting me in your apartment?” 

“You think I find you disgusting?” As if he wasn’t already feeling guilty enough. 

“Obviously.” 

Song Lan wished he knew how to convey the feeling he had in his chest, watching Xue Yang blowing on his tea, trying to take an impatient sip while it was still too hot to drink. It was anything but disgust. 

“What are you smiling about?” Xue Yang snarked. 

He hadn’t noticed he was. “I- I want us to be more than friends,” he blurted. 

Xue Yang stared at him, mouth agape, then he burst into laughter again. “You are such a dumbass, oh my god.” Song Lan’s stomach dropped. Had he misread the situation? Had Xue Yang been making fun of him the entire time? This had been the punchline he was waiting for. He tried to stand up, but Xue Yang grabbed his arm and dragged him back down. “Wait, wait,” he said between giggles. Song Lan huffed and tried to pry his hands from his arm, but Xue Yang squeezed tighter. “You’re so weird. What the fuck?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Xue Yang grinned manically at him. “You can’t take it back.” 

“Let me go. I need to make dinner.” 

He rolled his eyes, but let go. He was uncharacteristically quiet after that. Song Lan microwaved the convenience store food in silence, they ate in silence, they moved to the couch afterwards without a word. Song Lan wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. He wasn’t even sure what was happening. He cleared his throat, prepared to make a statement, but Xue Yang looked at him and his mind went blank. Then Xue Yang pinched him. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve it. Xue Yang eyed him, more curious than wrathful. He was testing him. When he didn’t get a response he ran his fingernails further up Song Lan’s arm. He was curious too. How far would Xue Yang go if he didn’t meet resistance? He pinched him again, harder, and when that didn’t get him a reaction, he dug his fingernails into his arm. “You are so fucking boring. Are you a robot?” He picked at the half moon marks he had left behind like he wanted to peel the skin back and check for machinery. 

“Ouch.” Song Lan said, to see if that would humor him. He snorted. Song Lan was tempted to pinch him back and see what a non-boring response was supposed to be, but he felt too guilty at the thought of hurting him. Instead he ran his fingertips along Xue Yang’s forearm gently. He gave an involuntary shudder, then lunged forward and tried to kiss him. Song Lan blocked the movement, automatically putting a hand on Xue Yang’s chest. He grabbed it and twisted a couple of the fingers back painfully. It triggered some animal part of Song Lan’s brain, that was his only excuse for why he shoved Xue Yang down and held him there with all of his bodyweight. Xue Yang cackled under him. Song Lan was bigger, but Xue Yang had the benefit of youth, so their strength levels were evenly-matched. He fought back and they ended up in a panting heap on the floor. Song Lan wasn’t sure where his earlier resolve to not cause the other man pain had gone. He had definitely hurt him in that struggle, he was aching in all sorts of places himself. There was a dull throb near his hip bone that had been caused by Xue Yang’s knee, a sting in his shoulder where Xue Yang had bitten him. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, Xue Yang wasn’t letting go, and he was sure the second he gave him any slack he would take the upper hand. He disentangled himself just enough to check what sort of expression Xue Yang had on his face. He wasn’t sure if they were playing or genuinely fighting. He had a patch of rug burn on his forehead from when Song Lan had shoved his face into the carpet. The sight sent a thrill of possessiveness through him, when it should have been guilt. At least he wasn’t the only one with a warped mind. Xue Yang had headbutted him at one point, accidentally or on purpose, and split his lip. He was looking at the blood on his mouth in a way that felt sexual. Song Lan licked it away and didn’t think he imagined Xue Yang’s pupils dilating like a predator about to strike. He wanted to be the prey animal submitting to its inevitable fate. All the resistance left his body, and Xue Yang got on top of him with little effort. His face was so close, they were going to – instead of kissing him like a normal person Xue Yang licked his mouth, then jerked away. 

Song Lan grimaced.  “Would you just stop-”

He cackled. “What? Now you want it?”

Song Lan wasn’t sure how to respond, but Xue Yang took mercy on him and made it so he didn’t have to. This type of kissing was nothing like anything he had done with Xingchen. He was sure he wasn’t doing it right, but Xue Yang didn’t seem to care. Song Lan didn’t care either – until Xue Yang slid a hand between his legs. He pulled away, looking annoyed. “The fuck? If you need to take something…” 

“Uh?”

“Like Viagra or some shit. Whatever it is you old guys do.” 

“I’m not- I don’t need-” 

“Sure, sure. But if you wanna go to the other room for a minute I won’t ask questions.” 

“I just – need more time.” 

Xue Yang rolled his eyes and went back in. He kissed aggressively. Song Lan didn’t mind, but he was used to him being smaller than he was, the weight on top of him was deceptively heavy. It felt confining, hot. Song Lan was afraid he would start sweating, despite how cool he kept his apartment. He didn’t like sweating, and he was sure it only made him softer every time Xue Yang grabbed the front of his pants impatiently. He was gnawing on his collarbone and had started rutting against him like an unneutered dog. It was a testament to how much Song Lan liked him that he wasn’t put off by it. He wasn’t having the reaction Xue Yang wanted though. He let out an annoyed grunt, his movements speeding up. Song Lan threaded his fingers into Xue Yang’s hair in encouragement, and unexpectedly that was all it took. He gasped into his neck, stiffening, then softened. 

“What the fuck?” he muttered. 

Song Lan resisted the urge to go get some wet wipes to clean off the condensation that was cooling on his neck every time Xue Yang breathed out. His spit was already in Song Lan’s mouth, there being some on his neck was the least of his problems. Hee didn’t think Xue Yang would appreciate him moving either, despite the fact he had his own mess to clean up. His delinquent fumbled at the front of his pants again. “Seriously, if you need to go take something it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

The thing was, Song Lan had never had any problem getting hard when he was on his own. The issue was with Xue Yang being there. But he couldn’t tell him that. “I don’t mind, as long as you enjoyed yourself.” 

“Yeah- well- I didn’t,” he pouted, probably self-conscious again. 

Song Lan wished he was a woman so he could just fake it. Things would be much easier if all he was expected to do was lie there and let Xue Yang do what he wanted with him. He petted Xue Yang’s hair again, since he had seemed to like that.

The transition between home and work on Monday morning felt like a portal between worlds. There were two distinctly different lives that Song Lan was living. He spent the workday in a haze. The feeling of incorrectness didn’t right itself until Xue Yang casually strolled into the lecture hall just as the last few students were leaving. It took Song Lan’s brain way too long to register that he shouldn't have been there. “Is everything okay?” 

“Just wanted to get some extra credit in, professor.”  

Song Lan tried not to look disgusted, he didn’t want to make him insecure, but that was really not a roleplay he had any interest in partaking in. “This is unprofessional, you can’t show up at my workplace.” 

Xue Yang snickered, backing him against his desk. “I just wanted to walk you home.” 

“You should wait for me outside.”

“Sure, sure. Totally will do that next time.” He leaned against him until the edge of the desk was cutting into Song Lan’s thighs. 

“Someone’s going to see.” 

“So?” 

“So, I’m going to lose my job-” 

Xue Yang kissed him – or had he kissed Xue Yang? He wasn’t sure. The way he felt at that moment might have been worth losing his job over. He immediately retracted the thought when he heard the door click open. He tried to shove Xue Yang away, but he had his arms wrapped around his waist so he didn’t go anywhere. 

“What the fuck?” A familiar voice said from the doorway. 

He didn’t want to look. He wanted to bury his head into Xue Yang’s shoulder and hide there. But he couldn’t do that. At least it was only A-Qing. Things could have been worse. He turned to see it was not only A-Qing. Nie Mingjue stood beside her, looking like a snapping turtle preparing to bite off someone’s finger. 

“We’re busy, come back later,” Xue Yang said, shamelessly. 

Song Lan tried to shove him again and he just laughed. Asshole. “Go wait outside.” 

Xue Yang blinked at him, trying to look innocent, and like he suddenly couldn’t understand words. Song Lan scowled. He rolled his eyes, but detached himself. “Don’t take too long.”

When Xue Yang passed her at the door, A-Qing couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to give him a look of  disapproval or laugh. Once he was out of hearing range she committed to snickering. 

“I’m sorry, Qing. Don’t cry.” Nie Mingjue put a hand on her shoulder. He shot Song Lan a death glare. “Was that another student? One wasn’t enough for you? You cheat on her? Have you no shame?” The vein in his forehead looked like it might pop. 

“What? I never-” Song Lan had the feeling there had been a major miscommunication. “He is not a student. I have never been with any students.” 

“Then, what the hell were you talking about the other day?” 

“Him. I just wanted to ask your advice on the age gap.”

“Ew.” A-Qing said. “Did you think we were-” 

By the time he had escaped the onslaught of Nie Mingjue’s anger and A-Qing’s mocking, Song Lan didn’t expect Xue Yang to still be waiting for him. 

“Do you need me to kill them for you?” he asked, leaning against the wall outside.

Song Lan was fairly sure he was joking. A different person would have probably bantered back. He tried to think of something funny to say, but drew a blank. Xue Yang was going to get bored of him. Anticipation was the only thing keeping his attention. Song Lan wondered if he was subconsciously being manipulative by holding out. He couldn’t keep him waiting forever, especially for something that would be such a let down in the end. If he wanted to keep him he would need to figure out something he could offer. “Do you want to go somewhere?” 

Xue Yang gave him a suspicious half-smile. “Sure. Where to, boss?” 

He hadn’t thought that far ahead. What did Xue Yang even like? What were his hobbies? He didn’t know – or did he? “Ice cream,” Song Lan suggested, “And then the bookstore?”

Xue Yang snorted, giving a look like he saw right through him. He didn’t seem unhappy with what he was seeing though. 

Song Lan bought him a book, and an ice cream cone. It was intimidating how happy simple things made him. He looked at Song Lan like he hung the moon after every simple kindness. It was sad. Xue Yang wasn’t the humble type, so Song Lan could only assume that gratitude came from the fact no one had ever done anything nice for him before. He wasn’t used to it. Xingchen had been different. Entitled wasn’t a word he would use to describe him, but there was a certain level of expectation within their relationship. Things that began as gestures of love over time became obligatory. Their monthly date-night had started as something to keep the romance alive, but by the end neither of them enjoyed it. They would force themselves out on the day the calendar told them to, despite both preferring to eat at home. Song Lan would buy Xingchen flowers, but after a while they stopped earning him a smile. Xingchen would comment on the type he’d selected that month passively. Song Lan had started to feel like they were pointless, like Xingchen didn’t even like them and was too polite to say, but when he didn’t buy them one month it provoked such a downturn in his mood that Song Lan had gone and picked some up the next morning. Strangely, he hoped he could get Xue Yang to the point where he felt that entitled to gifts also. He deserved to feel spoiled. Song Lan watched him pop the last of his cone into his mouth, and handed over what was left of his own, already knowing he would want it.

“Of course you’re a vanilla guy,” he teased. His phone pinged. When he checked it and then let out an annoyed groan. “I gotta stop in to work. Wanna come with, or should I meet you at your place later?” 

“I’ll come with you.” Song Lan tried not to sound too curious about the prospect of seeing what ‘work’ was for Xue Yang. 

Xue Yang pried open the window with a stick. The scratches around the frame made it look like it wasn’t the first time it had been broken into. Was Song Lan really going to just stand there and watch? How had he managed to forget Xue Yang was a delinquent? Of course his job would involve something illegal. “If there’s things you need, I can buy them for you,” he mumbled, looking over his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.” Xue Yang ignored him, already climbing through the window. He was probably scraping his stomach on the windowsill, so Song Lan gave him a leg up. Now he was complicit. If the cops came and Xue Yang was arrested, at least he would be with him. No. He was being ridiculous. If Xue Yang were to be arrested he would be far better off with Song Lan on the outside to pay his bail. Still, he didn’t want to imagine him getting dragged off to jail alone. He had been prepared to keep watch outside, but when Xue Yang opened the backdoor and beckoned him inside, he went. He might have followed the idiot into hell. Not even to protect him, what could he do? Only to keep him company. He was insane. There was absolutely no reason to be in love with the delinquent, but that was the only explanation. Xue Yang got onto one of the computers and Song Lan was reminded of the time he thought Xue Yang had hacked his phone – maybe he still had. Hopefully he hadn’t seen anything embarrassing on it. Just as quickly as that time, he finished what he was doing. “Okay, let’s go.” 

“What did you do?” He was already complicit, he deserved to know a few details. 

“Just had to email my boss something.”

“You broke in here to send an email? Couldn’t you have used your phone?” 

“He needed something off this computer. Paperwork. It’s boring.”

“You broke in here to email some paperwork?”

“I know right? Can you believe the shit my boss makes me do?” 

“Is it an organized crime thing?” 

“Wha- Wait, do you think I just broke into some random building to steal paperwork? This is where I work.” He laughed – his extremely pleased laugh – and tried to throw an arm around Song Lan’s shoulder. It didn’t really work with his height, so he grabbed Song Lan’s wrist instead and forced the other’s arm over his own shoulder. “And you followed me in here? What a simp. Good to know you are down to break the law with me.”

“Is that a bomb?” 

Xue Yang laughed harder. “What do you think I do?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Electrical engineering. It’s fun, but super boring to hear about, so don’t get me started,” he then proved his own point, talking Song Lan’s ear off about it the rest of the walk home. Song Lan didn’t mind listening to it. He had just noticed he was in love. 

Xue Yang was cooking. He didn’t usually do that. It was Song Lan’s job. Xue Yang brought the takeout. He had insisted though. Probably for the best, as Song Lan was feeling the overwhelming desire to spoil him, which may have resulted in him trying to cook a twelve-course meal or something normal like that. Better to just sit and admire him. Xue Yang leaned over to look under the sink, and Song Lan felt guilty for what he admired then, but there was really nowhere else to look, and it was his boyfriend, he was allowed to stare at his ass. Boyfriend. He felt like a teenager again. How embarrassing. There was a flash of yellow and Xue Yang popped back up with rubber gloves on. “Does this look completely unsexy?” he asked. “Like, would you get a boner if I wore these during sex?” He seemed genuinely thoughtful about the question, not joking, so Song Lan probably shouldn’t have chosen that moment to laugh at him. Xue Yang looked like he couldn’t decide if he was pissed off or enjoying the reaction. His revenge was climbing into Song Lan’s lap. He shoved a rubber-gloved hand underneath his shirt.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Why? The texture? What if we used the oven mitts instead? Oh, wait. I get it, I am touching you with the dirty part, right? Should I turn them inside-out? Or do you wanna wear them?” He pulled one off and held it out to him. 

Song Lan kissed him. Xue Yang’s lips were pliant, not aggressive like their other kisses. It was awkward. He was hardly kissing back. Song Lan pulled away, thinking he must have done it wrong. “The fuck was that for, weirdo?” Was he blushing? Oh. That had been the first time Song Lan had been the one to instigate. Xue Yang whacked him with a glove. The hiss of a pot boiling over on the stove made him jump away. 

“...Alright?”

“Yes. Think you’re the only asshole who knows how to cook?”

“No. I’m sure you’re very skilled.” Truthfully, he wasn’t confident Xue Yang had ever put in the effort to learn to cook something that wasn’t sweet. 

The ominous aura around the plate he served up almost put Song Lan off before he had even tried it. Was that meat? Or cabbage? It was charred black, whatever it was. There was a lump of mush next to it that at one point might have been noodles. The expectant glower directed at him prompted him to take a bite, trying not to breathe through his nose to mute the flavor. 

Xue Yang bit his bottom lip. “Do you like it?”

Song Lan nodded, forcing a smile as he took another bite. 

“Oh my god, you are so whipped.” Xue Yang giggled. “I can’t believe you are actually eating that. You’re so pathetically in love with me.” 

There was an uncomfortably long silence. “I’ll make us some eggs,” Song Lan said. 

“See? You’re not even denying it. You’re totally obsessed. Loser. You wanna marry me. You want to spend the rest of our lives together.” Xue Yang was trying to sound lighthearted, but there was a frantic undertone developing the longer he went on. He tackled Song Lan against the fridge. He probably would have locked their lips if he could reach that high, but instead he was trailing kisses over his neck. 

“I’m trying to make eggs.” 

“Fuck the eggs, do you ever shut up?”

Song Lan didn’t respond out of spite. Xue Yang put a hand on the back of his neck, so he could drag him down to his level. He let him. It was all very enjoyable, until Xue Yang stuck his hand down Song Lan’s pants and let out an annoyed grunt at what he found. He didn’t give up, rubbing Song Lan’s flaccid dick in a way that did nothing for him. “Stop that.”

“Want me to use my mouth?” 

“Can we talk about this after dinner?” The glare directed at him made him feel like jumping out of a plane would be less intimidating than another minute in the delinquents company. 

“What is there to talk about?”

“I need to… tell you something.” 

Xue Yang squinted in suspicion. “What?” 

“After dinner.” 

“Are you dying or some shit?” 

“What? No! Why would you think that?”

“I dunno. Are you breaking up with me then?” 

“Stop jumping to the worst case scenarios.” 

“That’s hilarious, coming from you.” 

Song Lan sighed. “Eggs.”

“Oh my god, fine, whatever.” Xue Yang sat back at the table. He shoved the plate of whatever monstrosity he had made off onto the floor like a vindictive housecat. 

“You’re cleaning that up.” 

“Make me.” 

Song Lan stared silently at him until Xue Yang got bored and picked up the cracked plate, dumping it in the trash. He prepared himself for the inevitable. Probably better to just get it over with. “I’ve never done this before,” Song Lan admitted.

“What? Boil eggs?” 

His cowardice overcame him and he couldn’t continue. He turned his back. “Later.” 

“No, what were you going to say?” Xue Yang sounded amused by his embarrassment, and that was better than the anger from before, so Song Lan forced himself to continue. 

“I’ve never-” He pushed the anxiety to the back of his head. “I have never had sex.” 

Xue Yang burst out laughing. “What? Like – This happens every time? Your whole life? That is sad. Didn’t you say you dated the same guy for decades? All that time and you didn’t get it up once?” 

“We didn’t have that sort of relationship.”

“What other sorts are there? Are you sure you were dating, or did you just fall in love with your roommate and pretend?” 

“Can we not talk about him right now?”

“You brought it up.”

“No- I was just trying to- This is about us. You might have certain expectations, and I am just trying to warn you-”

“Oh. Okay. I get it now.” Xue Yang nodded, seemingly to himself more than for Song Lan’s benefit. 

He wasn’t sure he did get it. “Aren't we going to talk about it?”

“We just did.” 

“Ah…” 

“What do you want, a monologue? If you don’t wanna have sex, we won’t.” 

“It is not that.”

“Then stop being weird about it.” 

“I am weird.” Song Lan said, self-deprecatingly. 

He scoffed. “Who isn’t?” 

“No. I mean it. Genuinely abnormal.” 

Xue Yang looked at him in a way that could only be interpreted as fond, despite Song Lan’s best efforts to feel judged by him. “Can we just make out?” he asked. 

“I- Yes? If you want. Just don’t expect-”

“I don’t expect anything. This shit is supposed to be fun. Ever heard of it?” Xue Yang reached around him to flick off the stove. Probably a good idea. No eggs. He dragged him to the bedroom, shoving him down on the mattress. Fun. He could do that. Xue Yang’s lips on his skin was fun. His weight on top of him was fun. The little sounds he was making were fun, and places his hands were touching were fun. They weren’t going anywhere near his dick anymore. It felt good. Everything did the less he thought about it. It was embarrassing how fast he got hard once the pressure was off. Xue Yang looked down at his cock like it was a skittish animal about to run away. 

"Don't touch it," Song Lan blurted.

"Don't touch it? What the fuck else am I supposed to- No wait, Fine. You do everything. I’ll just watch." Xue Yang hopped off the bed, into the chair in the corner. “Pretend I’m not here.”

That was worse. Was he really supposed to get off while being stared at? He shut his eyes and tried to pretend it was a normal day. There was no one else in the room. He rubbed a hand against the front of his pants. How was Xue Yang reacting? Was he looking at him with that same expression he had in his eyes when he first saw him in front of the convenience store? Song Lan had already jerked off to that a lot. He rubbed himself harder. 

“Okay, enough foreplay, take your pants off,” said an impatient voice from the corner. "Serious, just do what you always do. I’m invisible."

"This is what I always do."

"Through your pants? How do you even-” 

Song lan opened his eyes. Xue Yang was not looking at him in the way he wanted, more like he thought Song Lan was a freak. He squeezed his eyes shut again. 

“You know what, never mind. I said show me what you always do, so show me. I’ll shut up." 

He took a calming breath before continuing, surprised his erection hadn't flagged entirely. Something about being watched, even judgmentally, was making him hypersensitive. He felt like he was losing control of his body. He was twitching and making involuntary, ugly sounds he couldn't hold back. Xue Yang was probably sick to his stomach. This would be enough for him to realize he didn't want a creepy old man in his bed. There was no way he would still be interested after seeing this display. Song Lan didn't mean to open his eyes again, they slipped open of their own volition. Xue Yang didn’t look sick to his stomach. He was watching him with something like awe. Like adoration. He tried to mask the expression when he noticed Song Lan looking, and that made it seem even more significant. 

“Come here,” Song Lan directed. 

Xue Yang wasted no time getting back on top of him. Seemed like his favorite place to be. At first he followed Song Lan’s example and stroked him through his pants, but he quickly grew impatient and got his fly open. He tugged his pants down just enough to get his dick out, and before Song Lan had time to wonder what he might do with it Xue Yang had him in his mouth. It was too much all at once. Song Lan flinched, the absurd mental image entering his mind of his dick getting suctioned off and lost down Xue Yang’s throat. He went over the details of the Heimlich Maneuver, to prevent himself from finishing too fast. That would be a whole new thing to be embarrassed about. Fun, he reminded himself. It was hotter than he anticipated, and wetter. Weirder. Song Lan had never had a particularly vivid imagination so he wasn’t prepared. He wanted to beg Xue Yang to stop for a minute and let him process, but when he tried to speak the only sound he managed to produce was an embarrassing whimper. Xue Yang was working Song Lan’s pants further down his thighs, as well as bunching his shirt up until it was under his chin, slow enough he didn’t notice until it had already happened. He was too preoccupied to feel self-conscious, though it seemed unfair Xue Yang hadn’t taken off his own clothes yet. His mouth started to stray. Lower. Song Lan tried to wriggle away, but Xue Yang held his thighs hard enough to leave bruises. By the time Song Lan remembered he could verbalize he wanted him to stop, it wasn’t worth the bother. The damage had already been done. Any germs that may have been down there were already on Xue Yang’s tongue. And judging by the noises he was making, he enjoyed the activity. A finger pressed inside him and Song Lan tried to squirm away again automatically. Xue Yang growled and flipped him over, face down onto the bed, in the most embarrassing position he had ever found himself. Everything was on display. It gave Xue Yang better access though, so he ignored the instinct to hide.

"D’you wanna stop?" Xue Yang muttered, only once he had stopped resisting.

Song Lan hadn’t realized what he was agreeing to when he moaned for him to keep going. He expected more of Xue Yang’s tongue, but something much bigger shoved inside of him all at once, like Xue Yang was afraid he might lose his chance if he didn’t do it fast enough. It burned too much to feel good, but Xue Yang’s arm latching around him so he couldn’t escape, and the overwhelmed feeling of full had Song Lan coming so suddenly he couldn’t even enjoy it. Xue Yang’s laughter rang through the aftershocks. He was going to develop some sort of Pavlovian response to it if he wasn’t careful. 

“Did you just-”

“Yes.” 

He snickered. “I’m not stopping.” 

“Good.” Finally he didn’t have to worry about Xue Yang being bothered by the state of his dick. He flipped him back over half way through. Song Lan hadn’t pegged himself as someone who enjoyed being manhandled, but you were never too old to learn new things about yourself. He was surprised how confident he felt under the delinquent’s gaze. It was hard to be self-conscious of his body when he was being looked at like that. He had never felt wanted that way before. He didn’t understand what Xue Yang was seeing, he was too pale, and soft in all the wrong places, but he was looking like he wanted to eat him alive. Song Lan thought he might never be able to look him in the eye, no longer bothering to suppress the strange noises that were spilling from his throat. Xue Yang fucked him in a similar frantic manner to how he had rubbed against him the first time, but it was much more intense with him inside. Song Lan tried to run his fingers through his hair again, but ended up just gripping it in a way that had to be painful, until the erratic thrusts finally stilled. 

He woke to an annoying intrusion worming its way into his ears. He covered his head with a pillow, squinting his eyes open. The bed was empty. That was that. Xue Yang had finally gotten what he wanted. He would be bored of him now. He was gone. He would never see him again. Song Lan took a deep breath. He didn’t need to panic, it was too early in the morning. Xue Yang had seemed like he was enjoying himself, despite Song Lan’s ineptitude, maybe he would want to do it again? Or maybe he could lure him over with food. He groaned. If Xue Yang didn’t want to be there, he wasn’t going to bribe him.  The assaulting noise was still going strong. His brain was awake enough to process what it was by that point. Music, coming from some low-quality tinny speaker by the sounds of it, combined with the occasional burst of off-key singing. He had never heard his neighbors making such a racket before. Despite that, it didn’t click that the sound was coming from his own apartment until after he had pulled on some sweatpants and opened the bedroom door. Xue Yang was making breakfast – wearing nothing but an apron. Song Lan’s face burned. He considered turning around and going back to bed, pretending he hadn’t seen anything, but his eardrums couldn’t take it anymore. He stomped over and grabbed the phone to hit pause. It wasn’t even Xue Yang’s phone, he had somehow got through Song Lan’s passcode. He looked over his shoulder, making no attempt to preserve his modesty. “Morning,” he chirped. 

“What’s for breakfast?” Song Lan tried not to show he was affected. 

Xue Yang held the frying pan sideways in answer. The crepe he was making almost fell onto the floor, but he managed to catch it at the last second. His grin was contagious. Song Lan absently browsed his phone, rather than continuing to look besotted at the delinquent. He changed Xue Yang’s contact name from Future Boytoy <3 to just BoyToy <3, and hid the phone when Xue Yang tried to figure out what he was laughing at.