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It was one of the bad days, one of those when Lan Zhan was mostly relying on muscle memory to get himself through the motions of coming back home, using as little brainpower as possible. He didn’t have his headphones on, even that feeling like too much: too much effort, too much concentration. He didn’t really mind his commute on normal days, but he was aware of all that was unpleasant in public transportation, especially during the morning rush hours; the squeeze of bodies everywhere, people showing and trying not to fall over when they inevitably don’t have anywhere to grip onto. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but he was used to it, mostly. On bad days, he didn’t even have the energy to notice more than the general fulness or emptiness of the cart (it was quite empty on his way back home, which was nice, even if he could not feel that nice).
As soon as he entered their apartment, he could hear Wei Ying clicking on his keyboard, and just like with the headphones, it was a little too much, a little grating on his ears. Which was something he will not say, because Wei Ying had the right to work in their common space whenever he pleased, and Lan Zhan could bear the clicking long enough to find his escape behind the closed doors of his bedroom. But first he also needed water, and to go to the kitchen he'd have to go past the living room. Why was Wei Ying’s keyboard so clicky? Was it always like this, was it just a bad day, or was his oldish laptop finally giving up? Lan Zhan barely had the energy to think those questions before he pushed them away, turning his energy to the task at hand. Take off shoes. Take off coat. Go to the kitchen for a glass of water. Go to his room.
When he entered the living room, the clicking stopped as Wei Ying looked up from his work to greet Lan Zhan, a brief respite that was bound to turn into something possibly much worse. Wei Ying was always happy to see him, that was not a problem (a surprise, at first, but never a problem), but Lan Zhan was not sure if he had enough energy to bear that today.
As it turns, out, he didn’t have to. Lan Zhan knew Wei Ying, but sometimes he forgot that Wei Ying knew Lan Zhan as well. He was not trying to put on a mask, he had no idea what his face was doing, but it must have been telling enough for Wei Ying’s words to die on his tongue, leaving his lips slightly parted for a second, two seconds, before he closed it. He moved his laptop from his crossed legs and stood, visibly trying to be careful in his movements, but the couch squeaked just enough to make Lan Zhan shut his eyes from the sound. It wasn’t really truly painful, just… Uncomfortable.
"Awh, Lan Zhan," he cooed gently, which made his ears flush. A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over him; he must have been a pathetic sight to elicit such a response. There was no use in that way of thinking, there really was, and rationally he knew that. But it didn’t change the fact that it was how he felt, and there was no way to avoid it.
There were soft footsteps, socked feet on the hardwood floor, barely audible, and he looked up slightly when they stopped close, Wei Ying standing right before him, maybe half a step away, far enough no to make him feel crowded but still close enough to feel close. It was then that Lan Zhan realised that he was still standing in the doorway of their living room, never even making it properly inside. This was… a worse day than he realised.
The silence stretched on for a while, with Wei Ying looking at him with a crease between his eyebrows, a concerned light to his eyes. It was a bit too much, too, being scrutinised in this way, but Wei Ying’s stare didn’t make him feel judged. All Lan Zhan knew was that there were eyes on him and he was barely able to meet them, focusing rather on Wei Ying’s cheekbones than his eyes. After another small moment of this standstill, Wei Ying moved his arms as if to reach out, never making contact. He didn’t speak, just waited.
It took another moment for Lan Zhan’s brain to process what he was doing, what he was asking to do. And in that little moment he let his shoulders drop, exhaling, and made that one step forward, right into the offered hug. Ying's hands were gentle when they finally touched his back, arms not squeezing him but enveloping him just as gently. He was close, but he was not being pressed to Wei Ying, and for some reason Lan Zhan felt that it was wrong, that it was too tentative. All of a sudden, he wanted Wei Ying to hold him close, hold him tight, for the only sensation to exist right now to be the warmth and the smell of Wei Ying, the soft material on his shirt between his fingers.
And so, without thinking about it, Lan Zhan pressed himself closer, enough for their chest to touch properly, enough for Wei Ying to let out a little surprised noise. His own hands reached out automatically, wrapping themselves around Wei Ying’s waist. He heard a soft sigh, barely registered it before Wei Ying’s arms tightened around him as well, just enough to feel more secure. To feel held, properly. His head rested on Wei Ying’s shoulder, he could feel his warm breath on his hair where Wei Ying was leaning into him, just a bit. Wei Ying was always a tactile person, he loved hugs, so Lan Zhan’s brain didn’t waste energy on making him feel bad for his behaviour, not now, not as it was happening.
If Lan Zhan’s brain was in its normal state, he would question this whole exchange, He would question himself, question his own motivation, question the fact that it was, in fact, a very unusual situation to be happening between them. They’d been close before, Wei Ying had fallen asleep on him on multiple occasions, they had grabbed each other’s arms or wrists before, Lan Zhan had even gently nudged Wei Ying aside when he needed something from a kitchen cabinet he was blocking. But it was not like this, never like this. But alas, his brain was not working as it usually would.
After some time of staying like that, right there in the doorway, Wei Ying’s hands arms squeezed him a little more, just a little, and then they were pressing in more purposefully as Wei Ying started to move backwards, Lan Zhan obediently following the silent request, never being let go, never really opening his eyes. It was strange, to walk like this, but the couch was not far enough for it to be truly bothersome. The creak was there when they sat down, but this time it felt much less grating on Lan Zhan’s ears, even despite being much closer, and he took it with a relieved sigh, One of Wei Ying’s hands let him go, but it found a new resting place on his arm, which was good enough to satisfy the little spark of disappointment before it even registered as such. Being sat, as well, was a good change, a mindless change. He didn’t have to care about keeping himself on his feet, instead he felt himself being gently tugged to lean back, but when he expected to find the feeling of the material of the sofa, he found his cheek being pressed to a warm chest, rising and falling softly under him.
If his brain was working, he would be panicking. It was too much, too close, but it was also warm and soft and he really, really didn’t want Wei Ying to let him go. For the first time since he entered the apartment, he started to feel himself relax, something that was only supported by the way Wei Ying started to gently card his fingers through his hair, being mindful of the little ornaments his family always wore, ones he was too used to putting in every day to abandon, too skilled in doing so proficiently enough that it was just not worth it to try and wean himself off wearing them, having to be conscious about this little loss of a well-known feeling of their weight. And now Wei Ying was avoiding tousling them, so carefully, to avoid any possible snagging at his hair. If Lan Zhan was reacting as he normally would, not only his ears would have been red, but his whole face as well, without a doubt.
He really didn’t want this feeling to end. This feeling of uncaring but being cared for. Another sigh escaped him, this time undeniably contented as he shifted in Wei Ying’s arms, shuffling just a little bit closer, a little bit higher, enough to leave his spot at Wei Ying’s collarbone in favour of his shoulder, tucking his face close to Wei Ying’s neck. He felt his fingers still at that, which made his brain wake up just enough to realise what he was doing and move to retreat, mumbling a soft “I’m sorry”.
The fingers in his hair tightened just a fraction, just for a second, as if Wei Ying was about to stop his movement, but he didn’t. Lan Zhan returned to resting on Wei Ying’s chest, and after a few seconds Wei Ying returned to carding his fingers though his hair.
Lan Zhan didn’t know how long they stayed like that before he heard a gentle call of his name. It made him realise that he was on the verge of falling asleep; he didn’t remember the last time he felt asleep anywhere but his own bed, but the thought of moving was suddenly just as unappealing as an overcrowded metro cabin. Another call of his name, and this time he was awake enough to let out an incredibly sleepy mn in acknowledgement.
Wei Ying’s chest shook gently with his chuckle before he adjusted his position to be more comfortable for the both of them.
“You can sleep, Lan Zhan,” he said in a gentle whisper, once again close to Lan Zhan’s hair, arms tightening around him for a second in one more small hug. Lan Zhan barely registered the words, and the following sensation of a gentle press against the crown of his head was already lost to that state right before one falls asleep completely.
For the first time in years, no dreams, good or bad, disturbed his rest.