Work Text:
The last time they kissed (the first time they kissed) it was merely a desperate press of lips upon lips. There’d been no idea, no plan, no permission—only the panicked need to act natural—
And their faces had been so close to one another—
What could have been more natural?
Of course, Jian Yi hadn’t meant it like that, not really. Hadn’t realised he did mean it like that, either. Especially hadn’t realised that Zhan Zhengxi would take it so poorly, and then later he didn’t realise Zhan Zhengxi took it so poorly for reasons entirely different than the ones he assumed. In that moment, though, he hadn’t thought at all, there was no room for hearing his own thoughts beyond the sirens in his mind and the immediate understanding that they were, yet again, found in a compromising situation, and he needed to do something, anything, to make it make sense.To make it at least look like it made sense.
And so
Proximity and panic and Zhan Zhengxi’s lips, parted in surprise—and possibly pain? Did he hit his head on the wall when they crashed into each other? He might have hit his head on the wall, and only a day after being released from the hospital for being hit in the head with a fucking rock, and there Jian Yi had been, panicking about parted lips when probably Zhan Zhengxi had been sick with—
Fuck! and Jian Yi had been sick all day! Zhan Zhengxi had spent his day—which should have been spent resting and recovering—tending to Jian Yi instead, and then Jian Yi had gone and put his lips on his friend’s lips like that was a logical solution to some made up predicament and of course it wasn’t a good kiss how could there have been anything good about any of it?
“Zhan Xixi, did you hit your head?” Jian Yi asks, as part of his current panic-induced one-sided conversation. Well! He asked that out loud! So it’s not one-sided anymore! Not if Zhan Zhengxi answers.
And he does answer: “Ah?”
Context! He needs more context to drag this careening thought train into some semblance of a conversation! Jian Yi leans back into the wall in order to give himself the space to meet Zhan Zhengxi’s eyes. Which. May be a mistake, actually, because Zhengxi is looking right back like Jian Yi is the only thing worth looking at, and that’s. Uh. A lot.
“That time you were suspended and then I skipped class to see you but it rained and I got sick and you took care of me all day and when I went to leave we got knocked over because your meimei came in right as I was grabbing the door and we got all tangled up and did you hit your head? On the wall?”
For what it’s worth, all Zhan Zhengxi does is blink, and then blinks a second time as he processes all that freshly squeezed context. Based on the tilt of his head and the soft understanding in his eyes and the—fuck! that’s not fair!—the mischievous twist of his lips, he definitely is processing additional context that Jian Yi had not meant to offer.
“Should we talk about that now?” Zhan Zhengxi asks, leaning forward to fill the space Jian Yi cleared. In a hilarious reversal of that other moment—that firstlast kiss moment—Jian Yi is backed into the wall, and the only thing keeping him from sliding down that wall is Zhan Zhengxi’s grip on his hip, secure and steady and bleeding warmth through the thin fabric of his trousers. Unlike that other moment, neither of them have been recently hit with a door and in fact have made it succesfully through the door. The door to Zhan Zhengxi’s bedroom, where he’d fixed up the bed with fresh sheets, so they could share it, so Jian Yi wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.
The only reason Jian Yi is losing his battle with balance is because Zhan Zhengxi is so close and it isn’t fair Zhan Zhengxi isn’t losing his balance too. His other hand is braced against the wall to the right of Jian Yi’s head and he’s so steady and Jian Yi isn’t caged in, not even a little. He’s secure. Jian Yi has only ever felt safe feeling weak in front of one man, and it’s a little strange feeling safe feeling weak in front of the man that is the entire reason you’re feeling weak but well. Here they are. Safe and weak and strange.
“Is that what you want?”
Jian Yi can’t see Zhan Zhengxi’s eyes anymore, there’s no more space behind him to lean further into, and he can feel the words breathed against his cheek as well as he can hear them. Every careening thought screeches to a halt—is that what he wants? is what what he wants? What is Xixi talking about? Jian Yi sorts back through the last few moments, grasping for the thread he’s lost, grounded and surrounded, while Zhan Zhengxi waits, patient as always, for him to answer once he’s gotten his head straight.
His head! That’s what he wanted to know! If Xixi had hit his head that time, that firstlast time, when they were in a similar position and he’d been panicking about what to do. Jian Yi lifts his hand to brush at the spot over Zhan Zhengxi’s left ear, where it had been bandaged that day. There’s a scar, long healed, hidden within the artful shag of his hair. Jian Yi finds it with little effort.
“No, we can talk about that later,” Jian Yi tells him with sudden certainty, as a different sort of panic suffuses him. No—not panic—but something adjacent. Anxiety, except welcome and warm and nice. Anticipation! That’s the thing. The last of his concern melts away, replaced with ease and a wide smile. Maybe Zhan Zhengxi can feel it, he’s still so close.
Jian Yi’s free hand finds a spot on Zhan Zhengxi’s waist. His other hand slides from his hair to his pyjama collar and clings. He still can’t see Zhan Zhengxi’s face, the way he has his forehead pressed to Jian Yi’s temple. It makes it a little easier to think.
It makes it a little easier to say what he actually wants to say.
“I wanna do whatever you wanna do.”
The next time they kiss (the second time they kiss), there is no embarrassment, no running away, no panic, no tears. Only the comforting strangeness of knowing you’re safe with the person who makes you weak, and the certainty that there are third and fourth times to look forward to.
But why wait?