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Several times, Mu Qing almost bailed out on leaving home and going to university.
The first reason? His mom. Her health isn’t good and he’s acutely aware she’s been progressively getting worse over the last couple of years. Until now, he was her primary carer and he never complained about it, given everything she’s done for him. Not only that, although she gets some benefits and disability funds, it’s not enough to live comfortably on, and moving to university means being jobless at least until he finds something in an over-crowded student city. She organised community carers as soon as he decided to go to university, because she absolutely didn’t want to hold him back in life, but Mu Qing doesn’t like the idea of some random person taking care of her.
The second reason? His mental health is still pretty shit. It’s nowhere near as terrible as it used to be, he’s mostly recovered from bulimia. However, he can’t forget sitting with his psychiatrist on his eighteenth birthday a year ago, getting told he has borderline personality disorder and being so disgusted with the diagnosis he didn’t even research it. Mu Qing also very cleverly checked himself out of therapy and stopped taking antidepressants several months ago, which may or may not have been a good idea. Thus, even if he’s not as catastrophically unstable as before, he’s still lacking in self-worth and confidence, and despite being objectively smart and getting exceptionable grades in college, he doesn’t really think he’s smart enough to be in higher education, surrounded by rich people blessed by life.
And the third reason? Mu Qing has absolutely no idea how to go about making friends. The only friends he ever had befriended him out of nowhere, upon finding him mid-panic attack in the corridor at school and sort of just adopting him. He’s never actively made friends himself. And yeah, Mu Qing doesn’t really need lots of friends, but he’s not stupid, and he knows he’s going to have a miserable three or four years if he doesn’t talk to anyone at all. He already hates his flatmates in student dorms, finding them loud, obnoxious, and far too messy for his liking.
Nonetheless, he goes to university, he shoves down the urge to run home and make sure his mother is okay every night, and tries to be normal. The upside is that he’s hours away from his hometown, and nobody here knows him as the vulnerable bullied kid. He can be a cold asshole if he wants to be!
The first bit of routine he gives himself is going to the gym. In college, he often went to the gym with Song Yuze and Hu Xinyu, travelling half an hour away to a different town every weekend to avoid being recognised (Song Yuze was also banned from their local gym after punching someone).
Going to the gym is pretty tedious and feels like too much of a dude-bro activity for Mu Qing’s liking, but he goes most days nonetheless. Both to get out of the flat, and also to continue building muscle in an attempt to convince himself gaining weight is okay if it’s muscle.
By the first week of teaching, he’s already got a four-week long streak of coming to this gym three times a week. He recognises a few people, but thankfully, nobody has made any attempt to interact with him.
Until now.
Mu Qing is happily minding his own business, scoping out which area of the main gym is least busy, and ultimately ending up at the weights section. In his peripheral vision, for the first time since coming here, he sees someone staring at him, but promptly ignores it and assumes it’s someone else and he’s just being paranoid. So, he turns his music volume up and starts loading weights onto the bar.
Said person staring begins walking over, and Mu Qing tries not to acknowledge him. However, he can’t help but glance over and take a look at who. Muscles, a little taller than him, long-ish brown hair tied in an unkempt bun. And… admittedly, he’s pretty hot. Briefly, Mu Qing does recognise him, having seen him here most days, but they’ve never actually made eye contact! And if he was staring before now, Mu Qing successfully blocked it out.
He can’t block it out anymore, now he’s realised this idiot is actually hot. Worse, he’s eyeing up Mu Qing in a competitive but admiring manner, and he has something like a gay panic.
Mu Qing has known he likes guys for a very long time, and it was never a big deal. But he’s never had a boyfriend before! In fact, the most experience with romance he has is from summer when he went to a house party hosted by Song Yuze, he got very drunk for the first time in his life, and proceeded to lose his virginity to a 23-year-old emo guy who he later found out was Song Yuze’s cousin.
But that wasn’t very romantic at all. He barely remembers it, and is mostly just embarrassed that’s how he lost his virginity.
Before he starts blushing as that memory pops up, Mu Qing looks away and starts focusing on his weights. But he can’t focus with the mystery hot guy staring him up, and he definitely can’t focus when the other steps up beside him, starts loading weights as well…
And makes eye contact with him for a solid few seconds, then proceeds to add 2kg more than Mu Qing.
That infuriates him, so Mu Qing loads 3kg more and settles on the bench, ready to do some reps and show the other guy up. He is not going to be beaten by some random hot guy.
Admittedly, this is a bit above his ability, and Mu Qing struggles just slightly, possibly from nerves as well because he knows he’s being watched. To make matters worse, after only a couple of minutes, the mystery hot guy stops what he’s doing and he! Walks! Up! To! Him!
“Hey,” the other says, “You want help?”
Mu Qing sits up, furrows his eyebrows, and shoots the most venomous, threatening glare he can muster at him. “Piss off.”
“What the fuck?! It was a genuine offer?”
“The answer is no, thank you,” Mu Qing says, rolling his eyes and standing up. Now he’s getting wound up, and he can’t stay here.
So, he turns around and ditches the weights, crossing the room to the further treadmill.
And no more than three minutes later, just when he picks up from a light jog, the unnamed hot guy appears on the treadmill directly next to him, turns it on, and immediately turns the speed up to one above Mu Qing.
“What are you doing?” Mu Qing asks, glaring at him again.
“You wanted a competition, right?” the other says, upping the speed once more. “I’ll give you a competition, yeah?”
“I don’t—” Mu Qing starts to refuse, but his pride steps up, and he can’t turn down the challenge even if it’s riling him up. Thus, Mu Qing increases the speed of his treadmill a few notches, and starts running like he’s running from his gay panic.
They go back and forth like that for a solid ten minutes, and Mu Qing reaches speeds he’s never beaten before. They keep sprinting until they’re both sweaty and breathless, and right when Mu Qing thinks he’s about to pass out and reaches to slam the stop button, the other guy does the same.
Just like that, the two are left standing still, panting and desperately trying to catch their breath. But despite being drenched in sweat, red-faced, Mu Qing still sees the other staring like he’s into it. If he stares much harder, he might think the unnamed hot guy is gay, but he looks straight as fuck and is definitely not gay. He’s just weird.
“I win,” mystery hot guy suddenly says, as soon as he can talk again.
“No,” Mu Qing exhales sharply, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “You reached for the stop button first.”
“Did not! That was you, fucking idiot!”
“I’m not the idiot who challenged you!”
“Fuck, you liked it,” the other says. Once he catches his breath, he watches Mu Qing wheezing a little longer, then continues, “You must be here most days, ‘cuz I’ve seen you a few times, but you’re pretty fucking good for a casual visitor.”
“I’m better than you,” Mu Qing spits.
“Nah, I’m here every day. I’m dedicated ‘n shit, but I don’t always see you.”
“I don’t come here every day. Three times a week, maybe, but I have a life.”
That’s not true. He does not.
“Damn, okay,” the other scoffs, “Well, next time you’re here, I’ll one-up your gains.”
“Yeah, right,” Mu Qing snorts, taking a sharp breath and coughing a little too harshly. Intense exercise and being a heavy smoker don’t really go well together, funnily enough. “I’m done here.”
“See ya.”
“You won’t.”
With that, Mu Qing turns around and leaves, refusing to entertain the other any longer. Admittedly, it’d be a lot easier to walk away and pretend this never happened if the other wasn’t do goddamn frustratingly hot. For the whole time he’s in the shower, he tries not to think about him — his sharp facial features, his shoulders and tight arm muscles, his abs…
Whatever. He’s an idiot.
Once he’s redressed and refreshed, Mu Qing heads outside to the wall a little while down from the entrance, sitting cross-legged on the edge of it. By now, he’s almost completely gotten over the awkward encounter, and reaches into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes.
Yes, this totally defeats the point of going to the gym in the first place, but Mu Qing will always convince himself it’s okay to have a cigarette now because he just worked out and that somehow cancels it out. (It doesn’t, but he’s in too deep to tell himself it’s bad.)
As he lights the cigarette, he also pulls out his phone and checks his messages, seeing a few spam emails and a couple of texts from his mother. Just asking how he is, what he’s done today, what he’s having for dinner. He doesn’t mind it. It means she’s still alive and well (as well as she ever is).
While he smokes and texts her back, Mu Qing annoyingly glances up for just a split seconds and sees the unnamed mystery hot guy leaving the gym. Before he can turn away, the other looks ahead and they make eye contact yet again. This time, however, mystery hot guy just stares, narrows his eyebrows, and walks away.
Mu Qing also squints and looks unimpressed. He hasn’t even changed out of his sweaty gym clothes! How unsanitary! He takes another drag from the cigarette, still staring, only to catch the other’s gaze redirected back at him.
Loathe as he is to admit, Mu Qing finds himself flustered by this interaction. On God, he hopes he never sees this guy ever again, or things might get confusing.
Three days later, on a nice Sunday afternoon, the world curses Mu Qing out.
In fear of seeing the unnamed sexy guy, Mu Qing has stayed clear of this gym. He spent yesterday revising content from his first week of lectures, but realised he was going to start spiralling if he didn’t leave his room the entire day on Sunday. Thus, he pretends he’s religious and prays to whatever mythical deity is out there that the other guy won’t be there this time, and drags himself up the hill to the gym.
It was going so well. He managed to do the weight training he didn’t get to complete last week, and successfully avoided interacting with anyone else.
However, right before he’s about to leave, unnamed hot guy walks in, and Mu Qing gets ready to bash his head into the wall as soon as they make eye contact. Worse, he starts walking straight over to Mu Qing, giving him a cringe thumbs-up.
“Hey,” he says, “You’re back. I thought you’d given up on coming here after I showed you up.”
Mu Qing snorts derisively. “As if.”
“Yeah, yeah You wanna lift some weights?”
“Why?” Mu Qing asks, scrunching his face up in disgust.
“I dunno?” the other shrugs, “Some competition. Motivation? I dunno, you seemed to enjoy getting fired up though.”
“No, thanks. I have self-respect.”
“Hah,” the other scoffs, “Bold words for a smoker.”
That comment really hits a nerve that Mu Qing refuses to acknowledge. He narrows his eyes, scanning the other up and down before asking, “What’s your name.”
Soon-to-not-be-unnamed hot guy cocks an eyebrow and answers, “Feng Xin…?”
“Well, Feng Xin,” Mu Qing spits, “Go fuck yourself.”
“Hey, wait!”
Despite Feng Xin attempting to get his attention again, Mu Qing grabs his stuff and storms out of the gym, going straight for the showers. He showers much angrier than the other day, pissed off that Feng Xin, a name he will now hate (sure, future Mu Qing), made a comment about him being a smoker. So what if he is?! He has self-respect! Or maybe he doesn’t.
… Now isn’t the time for that spiral.
Mu Qing, barely any calmer after his shower, leaves the building and goes to his usual spot, lighting a cigarette before he’s even sat down. He takes a long drag, trying to forget that ever happened. Now he knows Feng Xin’s stupid name too, and it’s his fault he’s mad.
Halfway through the cigarette, he just about manages to cool down a bit.
Things are never that easy, though, because a minute later, the loud, obnoxious voice echoes once more. He glances to the side, seeing Feng Xin stood right by the door, sweaty and gross (and stupidly hot in that state), talking to someone on the phone. Mu Qing really, really hopes he doesn’t see him, and he’s tempted to get up and run away. But that would be cowardly, and he doesn’t want this stupid guy to think he’s a coward.
Feng Xin eventually ends the call, and right before he turns to go back inside, he spots Mu Qing to his absolute disgust. While Mu Qing rolls his eyes and grits his teeth, Feng Xin starts walking over. He takes a deep drag of smoke, bracing himself for a snarky remark about how he’s smoking right after the gym.
But instead, all he says is, “I never asked your name.”
Mu Qing huffs, giving another roll of the eyes before replying under his breath, “Mu Qing.”
“Mu Qing…” Feng Xin mutters under his breath, staring a little too long. “You wanna work out together some time? Like, properly.”
“Why?” Mu Qing scoffs.
“You really like asking why to trivial shit,” Feng Xin chuckles, “I’m just impressed you kept up with me.”
Although Mu Qing really wants to say no, he can’t bring himself to. Partly because Feng Xin is actually hot and it might be the first time he’s properly interacted with someone he might be interested in. Whilst he wouldn’t want to become best friends with some normie guy, maybe he can have a workout friend.
Also, how the hell is he supposed to make friends? This might be his only chance.
“Sure,” he sighs.
“Give me your number,” Feng Xin says, reaching into his pocket and handing his phone over.
Mu Qing grimaces down at his phone, which is all sweaty and gross from being in his pocket. He pushes it away, scrunching his face up as he places the cigarette between his lips, grabs a pen from his bag, and grabs Feng Xin’s wrist. His heart is thumping in his chest stupidly loud as he writes his number on the side of Feng Xin’s hand.
“There,” he mumbles, before pulling the cigarette away from his lips behind a cloud of smoke and hopping down from the wall. “I might reply.”
“Challenge accepted,” Feng Xin smirks.
As Mu Qing flicks the cigarette onto the ground, he turns his back to Feng Xin and begins walking away swiftly.
And Mu Qing sincerely hopes Feng Xin didn’t see the way he started blushing upon realising he just shamelessly gave his number to some stranger who expressed an ounce of interest in him.
Thanks to some sick divine intervention, one week later, Mu Qing is stood outside the gym waiting for Feng Xin, with a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
When it gets to 3pm, their agreed meet-up time, panic takes over. Has he seriously been stood-up by this cishet-coded incel?! Were him and his friends laughing at him the whole time, daring him to rizz up the mentally ill, emo loner? Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered coming here.
After ten minutes, and when he’s getting close to finishing his second cigarette, Mu Qing breathes a sigh of relief as Feng Xin turns the corner, talking to some other guy. He’s dressed awfully, with long brown hair tied in a half-plait. Despite having the fashion sense of an 80-year-old grandpa, there’s a Gucci tote bag slung over his shoulder, an iPad poking out the side, and several expensive items of jewellery on his neck and wrists; like he’s got some rich sugar daddy. The way he moves his hands, smiles, and gestures madly with everything he says to Feng Xin, he’s definitely not straight.
And he’s really not the type of guy Mu Qing would imagine Feng Xin being friends with.
Feng Xin sees Mu Qing waiting eventually, waving his hand. “Yo, Mu Qing!”
“Hey,” Mu Qing deadpans, taking a long drag of smoke. He’s glaring, trying to shove down the paranoia, and slight jealousy that maybe Feng Xin has invited someone else to their planned workout session.
“Oh, this is Mu Qing!” the other friend says, with a beaming smile. Holding out his hand, he waves it frantically, waiting for Mu Qing to return a handshake. “Feng Xin has told me all about you!”
“Hopefully nothing too good,” Mu Qing grumbles under his breath, sarcastically of course. Reluctantly, he moves the cigarette to the same hand holding the coffee, and shakes the other’s hand.
“I’m Xie Lian,” he introduces, still shaking his hand until Mu Qing forces it out of his grip and steps back like a cat scared to be touched. “I met Feng Xin during the welcome week! I haven’t seen you around.”
Mu Qing scrunches his nose up, inhaling on the cigarette. As he exhales, with an exaggerated sigh, he mumbles, “I don’t go around.”
“Well, I’ll definitely see you more, then!” Xie Lian replies, before catching a glimpse of his watch and gasping. “Oh! My seminar starts now. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“See ya,” Feng Xin nods, patting his shoulder before he can bolt off down the street. When Xie Lian is finally gone, he turns back to Mu Qing, meets his signature resting bitch face, then his focus trails down to the coffee and cigarette in his hand, and he subsequently raises an eyebrow. “Right before working out?”
Glancing down at the cigarette, Mu Qing pointedly takes the final drag then flicks it onto the ground, stomping on it. “You shouldn’t have kept me waiting, then.”
Feng Xin only laughs at his own comment, and Mu Qing pouts harder. They go inside, scan their entry passes, and head to the changing rooms. Out of respect, or modesty, or whatever, Mu Qing looks away when Feng Xin takes his shirt off. But when he turns slightly to grab the deodorant out of his bag, he catches Feng Xin staring at his hips. As soon as Feng Xin notices, he turns away immediately and begins changing out of his cargo trousers.
Then it’s Mu Qing’s turn to stare. He didn’t even mean to, but before he could turn back the other way, the size of the bulge in Feng Xin’s pants comes into eyeline and he finds it hard to look away from a second. It’s huge! It’s fucking massive! And he can tell it’s not even erect, it just hangs like that?!
When he feels his cheeks heat up, Mu Qing forces himself to turn the other way once and for all, and doesn’t look back until he hears Feng Xin talk.
“Alright, let’s go,” he declares, throwing the towel over his shoulder. “I gotta do weights today.”
“Sure,” Mu Qing murmurs, only now questioning why he agreed to this. Right, because he doesn’t know how else to make friends.
Fortunately, it’s pretty quiet at this time, with most people being in lectures. He’s pretty sure he heard Feng Xin also say he had a lecture, but he’s hardly the most studious person in the world. They head to the weights section of the gym, currently empty, and begin doing basic warm-up exercises. Mu Qing watches Feng Xin first, because in truth, he rarely does this whole warming up thing. He’s not that serious about the gym anyway.
Feng Xin notices him watching, however. “Why’re you staring at me like that?”
Mu Qing freezes mid-squat, promptly standing up and brushing hair away from his face. Now would be a stupid time to admit he just… doesn’t do warm-ups, so he blurts out the next thing somehow less embarrassing thing on his mind. “Why did you invite me here?”
“Uh, I dunno. I wanted to?” Feng Xin says, but Mu Qing doesn’t look satisfied with that answer, and only cocks an eyebrow. Sighing, Feng Xin continues, “To be real with you, I haven’t got any mates in this city to go to the gym with. All my flatmates just like getting drunk and fucking partying, and Xie Lian might die if he set foot in a gym. He’s apparently still recovering after breaking his foot falling down some stairs a couple of months ago. I needed someone on my level, that’s all.”
“Right,” Mu Qing deadpans, still not convinced, but Feng Xin refuses to elaborate further. “You go first.”
“Put on whatever you normally do, then add two,” Feng Xin orders him, lying on the bench and cracking his knuckles.
“Fuck off,” Mu Qing huffs. He does it anyway. “What am I, you housewife?”
“Do you wanna be?” Feng Xin snickers, grinning at him.
That was a joke, Mu Qing is sure. He has no idea why it makes him blush a bit. Keeping his head down, he brings the bar to Feng Xin and hauls it onto the stand, deliberately standing far enough behind him to stay out his peripheral vision.
As Feng Xin does a few lifts, he tries not to stare at him. The way his vest rides up every time his arms move higher. The way his arm muscles flex as the strain increases. The way his eyes screw shut and sweat beads at his forehead, as if it’s slightly too much weight but he’s too damn prideful to back down, because he wants to impress Mu Qing oh so bad.
And on God is it working.
Mu Qing gets so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t even notice when Feng Xin starts struggling and looks like he’s ready to stop. He only notices when Feng Xin slams the bar down on the brackets at the end of the bench.
“You’re a shit assistant,” he comments, sitting up and wiping the sweat off his forehead and chest with the towel. He stands up, going to take one of the weights off the end of the bars. “Your turn.”
“Leave them on,” Mu Qing says, grabbing his hand to stop him. Okay, so he already loaded the bar with his absolute record weight at the beginning, but he has faith that pure adrenaline and a bit of lust will help him create a new record. He straightens out his shirt then lies down, discreetly making sure his hair doesn’t get too messed up. Then he gets a bit self-conscious; Feng Xin looked so hot when he did this, but what if he just looks ugly and stupid?
Shoving down those insecure and irrational thoughts, telling himself that’s something stupid 16-year-old Mu Qing would think, he grips the bars, taking a deep breath, and waits for Feng Xin to move his hands off.
As he picks up the bar, it’s probably a bit too much, and he knows Feng Xin might need to save him. But before he can be absolutely humbled, Feng Xin takes a deep breath, his fingers still hovering over the edges. Mu Qing braces himself for a demeaning comment and already starts thinking up a sarcy response.
Then, out of nowhere, Feng Xin says casually, “Do you wanna go out for a drink?”
Immediately, Mu Qing’s fingers slip, and Feng Xin has to grab the bar and put it back on the supports. He sits up hastily, jaw dropped as he stares at the other.
“What the fuck?” Feng Xin says, “You didn’t even do one!”
“T-That’s not the point!” Mu Qing stammers, his face turning red. “Don’t just randomly drop that on me?!”
“It’s just an invite, jeez!” Feng Xin replies, clearly not getting the hint of the other being flustered as fuck. “Is that a yes or a no?!”
Instead of answering like a normal person, Mu Qing scrunches his nose up and says, “Why?”
“I dunno,” Feng Xin shrugs. If he is trying to ask Mu Qing on an actual date, he’s hiding it well. “I wanna spend time with you outside the gym. Is that a fucking crime?”
Mu Qing blinks at him, finally clamping his mouth shut and staring down at the ground. Nobody has ever said such a thing to him. Not even his friends from school. They just sort of appeared and picked him up off the sidewalk. “Oh…”
Feng Xin, after far too long, eventually picks up on his confusion, and matches his energy. “Is that weird?”
“… No,” Mu Qing mumbles, his heart racing faster. “I just… It’s been a while since anyone said that to me.”
Or, ever.
“Well I’m fucking saying it,” Feng Xin says, “So, yes or no?”
“Yes,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “I’ll… go out with you some time.”
“Great. I’ll text you later,” Feng Xin replies, grabbing the bar again. “Come on. Beat your personal record, or you’ll be worse than me and I win.”
“Ass,” he grumbles, but if they’re actually spending time together outside of this, he really has to show himself up.
In truth, Mu Qing really does not know why he said yes. Probably because it seemed like a genuine offer, he has no one else here, and… well, Feng Xin is really hot.
A week later, Mu Qing is stood in his room, staring at three different outfits and trying to pick the best one. Which is difficult, considering he doesn’t know if this is actually a date or not.
Feng Xin didn’t say it was a date, so maybe he shouldn’t assume. On the other hand, Feng Xin was very vague and was definitely staring at Mu Qing in the changing rooms. Mu Qing has caught every single damn time he was eyeing him up. But at the same time, he feels silly getting his hopes up for something which might not be a date. Because seeing this as a date means accepting that Feng Xin thinks he’s hot and has some desirable personality traits, and Mu Qing’s entire teenage years have conditioned him into thinking he has absolutely no redeeming qualities other than, maybe, his looks.
Nonetheless, he decides to make himself look hot anyway. If this is just a casual meeting, he wouldn’t want to be underdressed, especially since he doesn’t know anything about the bar they’re going to. He settles on tight black skinny jeans in the end, with a black tank top and fishnet, patterned lace long sleeves. The combat boots and denim jacket he sewed himself add to the look, ensuring that Feng Xin knows he’s edgy or something. Besides, if he looks unapproachable, he won’t have to deal with any more unwelcome social interactions.
His maps app shows him it’ll take half an hour to walk there, but he leaves 40 minutes early anyway. He smokes two cigarettes on the walk there, then lights another once he’s stood outside, over ten minutes before their agreed meeting time. Alright, so he probably shouldn’t be smoking so much, but he’s nervous. Mu Qing considers that a good enough excuse. Also, he’s less likely to be spoken to by a stranger if he stands here looking all emo and angsty.
Every minute, he checks his phone, waiting to see a message from Feng Xin telling him he’s not coming, because he still expects to be stood up, because who in their right mind would willingly spend time with him? Yet there’s no messages at all.
Not even from his mom, which is a bit out of the ordinary. Mu Qing had been debating what to tell his mom when she asked what he was doing tonight, if he was free or wanted to call, but she hasn’t even texted him to ask what he’s having for dinner tonight. Weird, though now isn’t the time to think about it too deeply.
Eventually, at 8:10pm, ten whole minutes past their agreed meeting time, Feng Xin appears around the corner. He’s hardly dressed up more than normal, maybe slightly tighter jeans instead of those God-awful oversized cargo pants. Mu Qing is still in 2015, he will forever defend skinny jeans, okay?
As he walks up to the other, he scans him over then says, “Holy fuck, you look good.”
Mu Qing’s original plan was to make a sarcastic comment about Feng Xin’s sense of time-keeping, but now he’s been slapped in the face with an unplanned compliment, and he’s stumped. His face burns already, as he looks away and exhales a long drag of smoke. “Y-Yeah, thanks.”
“Jeez, it’s a fucking compliment,” Feng Xin snorts, staring at him as he takes the final drag of smoke. “Y’know, all I ever see you do is smoke. Do you have any other hobbies?”
With a roll of the eyes, Mu Qing drops the cigarette on the ground and stomps on it, responding sharply, “Waiting for you.”
“I’m not fucking late?!”
“You are. Ten minutes, to be precise.”
“I said about 8pm,” Feng Xin insists, waving his watch again. “This is close enough!”
“Whatever,” Mu Qing huffs. If Feng Xin’s idea of being on time is ten minutes off the approximate time, maybe they are not romantically compatible. “Let’s go. I need a drink.”
“I’m not that difficult to deal with,” Feng Xin chuckles, following him inside and leading them to the bar. For a moment, he looks like he’s about to try to buy Mu Qing a drink, but he’s not falling for that bait so soon, and steps forward to order himself a cocktail before Feng Xin can utter a word.
In his peripheral vision, he watches Feng Xin look a bit stumped and then give a small pout, like his ultimate rizz plan was blown to pieces. He sighs, ordering himself a beer. As Mu Qing takes his cocktail, a cosmopolitan, because he’s classy, he eyes up the outdoor seating, wanting to sit there so he can smoke, but Feng Xin already starts walking to one of the booths inside. Dimly lit, fairy lights hung around it, and Mu Qing starts getting scared this actually is a date.
Reluctantly, he follows Feng Xin to the booth, sitting opposite him and kicking one leg over the other, his back ramrod against the back of the seat. His hands fidget in his lap, not sure what to do, and making eye contact seems a bit hard, because that might imply he wants to start a conversation, and what the fuck is he meant to talk about? They’ve got nothing in common other than going to the gym, and unlike Feng Xin, that is not one of Mu Qing’s core personality traits.
But no matter how hard Mu Qing tries to not look at Feng Xin, he can still see him staring. For a solid two minutes, neither of them speak, as Mu Qing sips the cocktail and tries not to look up.
Eventually, after Feng Xin went to speak a couple of times and fumbled, Mu Qing’s head whips up and he narrows his eyes sharply at the other. “Did you invite me out just to stare at me?”
“Jesus Christ,” Feng Xin scoffs, “Are you that fucking blind?”
Mu Qing cocks an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“This is a date, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin deadpans, shamelessly. “I asked you on a date.”
“Oh…” Mu Qing mumbles, eyes widening slightly. He goes through a few reasonable responses before screwing his face up in disgust and settling on, “Why?”
“Why?! Am I that bad?!”
“No, no, I didn’t mean it in that way,” Mu Qing says, rubbing his forehead as his face heats up undeniably again. “I mean why me?”
“Why?! You’re seriously gonna ask why?! It’s because you’re fucking hot, okay?!” he blurts out, before sitting back against the seat and muttering, “Like, seriously.”
With a wicked smirk, Mu Qing retorts a little more confidently (now his ego has been boosted moderately). “So you only took me out because I’m hot?”
“Not just that, fuck, I’m not that shallow. You’re feisty, I like that,” Feng Xin replies, “Plus you’re playing hard to get, and I like that too.”
Mu Qing’s mouth drops open, but he comes up empty trying to think of a witty response. The only time anyone ever actually flirted with him, it was his best friend’s cousin and he was drunk.
After a long delay, he finally thinks of something, sipping the drink and smirking subtly again. “That was bold,” he says, “What if I wasn’t into guys?”
“Please, fucking look at you,” Feng Xin snorts, “What straight guy wears eyeliner, paints his nails, and voluntarily wears skinny jeans?”
For a second, Mu Qing thinks Song Yuze was the same and he’s straight, but then realises everyone called them gay (and other colourful slurs) in secondary school. “Fair point.”
“See?” Feng Xin grins, taking a large gulp of beer before asking, “What’re you studying?”
“Maths.”
“Fucking nerd. Why?”
Mu Qing shrugs. “I was good at it.”
“Huh. Weirdo,” Feng Xin snickers, “I’m just doing sports science, but I can’t really be bothered with the complicated stuff. I just wanna work out.”
“At least maths is a real subject.”
“Hey! Sports science literally has science in the name!” Feng Xin yells, “Ugh, you’re one of those elitists.”
“At least I’ll have a job when I graduate,” Mu Qing fires back.
“Oh yeah? And what’s your big plans for the future?”
Unable to respond realistically, Mu Qing scoffs, “That’s a bit of a forward question.”
“It’s just a question,” Feng Xin says, “You don’t have to overthink it.”
Taken aback, Mu Qing purses his lips, taking a longer sip of his cocktail and looking down. Now that he’s actually asked, he doesn’t have a plan for the future at all. He just assumed he’d be dead before he ever turned 18, and for most of his teenage years, a future — let alone a good one — wasn’t even in his thoughts.
However, that’s a bit too depressing for the first date, so he just shrugs weakly and mutters, “I don’t know yet.”
“It’s fine, we got loads of time,” Feng Xin points out, looking like he wanted to pry for a second, but also decided against it. “Where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
Mu Qing turns his nose up in disdain as he comes to the harrowing realisation that he probably does have somewhat of a regional accent, loathe as he is to be associated with his shithole of a hometown. “Just a small town three hours from here,” he mumbles, “No one knows it and it’s not worth going to.”
“Yeah, my geography is shit, so I’ll take your word for it,” Feng Xin replies, “I’m east of here by about four hours.”
Nodding along, Mu Qing takes a larger gulp of his drink again, the silence making him nervous. Feng Xin seems genuinely interested in him and his life, but he’s socially stunted and doesn’t know how to hold a normal conversation about something which isn’t emo music or how society is terrible.
Feng Xin notices him tense up slowly, however, and just laughs. “Relax, Mu Qing, seriously. I’m not gonna eat you or something, and if you wanna leave at any point then fucking go ahead.”
The bluntness really catches him off-guard, but he somewhat appreciates it. “I don’t want to leave,” he says a little sheepishly. “I’m just not used to people being interested in me.”
“Really?” Feng Xin says, like he’s genuinely surprised. He looks a bit sad for a moment, but he also seems to have that ‘I can fix him’ look in his eyes. “You just need more confidence.”
“Hmph,” Mu Qing grunts, sitting up straight and trying to embody confidence without delivering a cold and sarcastic remark, albeit knowing Feng Xin thinks he’s hot makes him overthink it harder, especially because he also thinks Feng Xin is hot and doesn’t want any interest he may develop to be unrequited.
Thus, when being confident becomes too stressful, Mu Qing resorts back to his default sarcastic comments. “Are you sure you like guys?”
“Huh?!” Feng Xin almost spits out his drink. “What the fuck?!”
“Nothing,” Mu Qing shrugs, grinning. “You just look straight to me.”
“Fuck no!” Feng Xin yelps, “Women creep me the hell out!”
Mu Qing raises an eyebrow, very judgementally.
“Okay fuck, that sounds bad. I just had an intense ex-girlfriend,” Feng Xin tries to explain, “I thought I was bi, but now I’m really just into guys.”
Slowly, Mu Qing nods along. In a sense, he’s starting to understand the appeal of Feng Xin. He’s blunt and straight to the point, and says things how he thinks them, but he hasn’t shown any special traits yet.
Before anymore awkward conversation can commence, Mu Qing feels his phone start to vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out his pocket, his eyes widening very slightly. It’s his mom calling, and she very rarely calls him without texting first to make sure he’s free. He checks his notifications but there’s still no messages. She’d only call him out of nowhere if something happened.
“What is it?” Feng Xin asks, sparing any scathing comments when he notices Mu Qing actually looks nervous.
Mu Qing glances up at Feng Xin, trying to plant on a straight face. He stands up, quietly saying, “I-I have to take this. I’ll be back.”
Feng Xin seems a bit put off, but he doesn’t say anything, picking up his own phone. Hastily, Mu Qing leaves the bar and stands in front of the building, answering the call. “Mom? Is everything okay?”
“Evening, A-Qing,” she replies after a long pause of silence, sounding very exhausted and breathless. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you first.”
“It’s fine,” he mutters, patting down his pockets for a cigarette, only to realise he left his jacket inside in his haste. “What’s wrong? Why do you sound…”
He trails off, not knowing what to say. Like she’s dying?
With a light-hearted but forced chuckle, she replies casually, “I’m alright, I just had a slight fall… I wanted to let you know.”
Mu Qing feels his heart drop in his chest, his throat getting tight. Having a breakdown in public would be humiliating, yet the guilt eats him alive. He’s away from home for little over a month and she already gets hurt.
“Mom, please don’t…” he whispers, trying desperately not to let the tears welling in his eyes fall down.
“There’s nothing to worry about, A-Qing, I promise. The doctors and nurses at the hospital are taking wonderful care of me,” she says, “I’m a little drugged up on painkillers right now, so I wanted to call in case you wondered why I didn’t text.”
“T-Thank you,” he mutters, swallowing thickly. He paces back and north, biting his nails, glancing back inside and realising Feng Xin will be able to see all of this, and might think he’s some pathetic mama’s boy when he was trying his utmost to be cold and nonchalant.
“Where are you right now?” she asks, “It sounds noisy. Are you out?”
“… No, nowhere important,” he replies, biting his lip. He can’t tell the truth, because she might pry about the fact he’s on a date, and she might also think she’s ruining his date. “Just out buying some stuff.”
“Well, have a good night,” she says, “Should I call you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I… I’ll text when I’m free,” he responds, swallowing back tears again, as the first rolls down his cheek. “Goodnight. Stay safe, mom.”
“I will. Goodnight, A-Qing.”
When she hangs up, Mu Qing shoves his phone back in his pocket and buries his face in his hand. He takes a few deep breaths, making sure he doesn’t start hyperventilating and having a panic attack here. He just wants to go home and be alone, and be all self-loathing about how it was selfish for him to leave his mom alone when she’s continuously deteriorated over the last couple of years.
However, he can’t just walk out on Feng Xin; he’s above doing that. And either way, his jacket is inside, which has his keys, so he can’t get home without going back inside.
Before Mu Qing can get a grip on himself and decide whether to stay and pretend everything is fine, or make up a stupid, unbelievable lie about why he needs to go home after a sudden phone call, Feng Xin appears at his side, pushing his jacket towards him and asking, “Why are you crying?”
It doesn’t sound particularly judgemental, more so concerned, but the words still cut through Mu Qing like glass. With shaking hands, he takes his jacket and starts rummaging through the pockets for his cigarettes, because he definitely needs one right now, and it’s easier than making eye contact with the other.
Feng Xin watches him wordlessly as he pulls out a cigarette out and lights it, taking a deep drag and visibly fighting back tears, before eventually questioning, “What the fuck happened? I could see you and you were all… freaked out about something.”
“I’m fine,” Mu Qing mumbles, inhaling on the cigarette for a few seconds before closing his eyes and trying to blink back the tears, to no avail. “Just… my mom. She’s just— She’s not well and she’s— She’s alive but I…” he tries to explain, but fumbles too much, and another tear slips out. Hastily, he wipes it away with his sleeve and places the cigarette back between his lips, getting a grip briefly before exhaling and continuing, “Sorry. I want to go home.”
“Yeah, I had a hunch you might,” Feng Xin says, giving him some stupid sad puppy eyes, and Mu Qing hates having someone showing such pity for him. “That’s why I brought your jacket out.”
“Thanks,” he huffs, holding the cigarette between his teeth as he shrugs his jacket back on, pretending the shaking is because he’s cold and not because he could curl up and break down any second. “Sorry for ruining the date.”
“Don’t be stupid. You didn’t ruin anything, it’s hardly your fault,” Feng Xin scoffs. He taps his feet for a moment, seeming like he can’t decide what to do, before stepping forward and boldly hooking an arm under Mu Qing’s elbow. “Come on, at least let me walk you home.”
While Mu Qing desperately wants to say no, Feng Xin’s arm hooked under his makes him feel all warm and fuzzy, and perhaps being alone right this second wouldn’t be the best choice. “It’s about half an hour away.”
“That’s chill, I’ll get my steps in.”
So, Mu Qing reluctantly turns the corner and starts leading them home, walking slower than usual, like a depressed teen who’s just experienced romance for the first time. Well, yeah.
It’s silent for a few minutes as they walk, the city starting to wake up for the night, even though they’re going home. When he finishes the current cigarette, he detaches from Feng Xin briefly to snuff it out in the nearest bin, before immediately grabbing his arm again. Then, he lights a second cigarette straight away, the nicotine a bit of a relief but still not enough to calm him down fully.
“You know,” Feng Xin says with a side glance. “You smoke a lot for an eighteen-year-old.”
With a sharp glare, Mu Qing corrects him, “I’m nineteen. My birthday was two weeks ago.”
“Huh, nice. My birthday is in a week,” he replies, “My point still stands, though.”
Mu Qing looks down at the cigarette between his fingers, bringing it back to his lips and taking another drag. “I just do,” he mutters through an exhale of smoke. “If you don’t want to be with a smoker, give up now. I have no intention to quit any time soon.”
A bit pitiful, considering he told his mother over two years ago that he’d quit when he got better. With that said, he’s not much better now, even if he hides it a lot better.
“It’s chill. I’m open. I was just saying,” Feng Xin replies, “Can I ask what happened with your mom?”
“… She’s not well,” Mu Qing says, drawing in a deep breath. He hates talking about this, because it’s like acknowledging she’s slowly dying, but Feng Xin seems genuinely interested and concerned, and maybe being open about this isn’t the end of the world. “We grew up poor, and she got diagnosed with a degenerative disorder when I was a kid. I had to take over working as soon as I turned sixteen, and I’ve been her full-time carer for the last three years. That’s all.”
“That’s all? That’s, like, rough.”
“I don’t want pity. It’s just my life,” Mu Qing shoots back, “I’m fine with it. She’s… done a lot for me. She might have another… seven or eight years, I don’t know. But she’s alone now, she’s more likely to collapse or get hurt, and it’s my fault if she—”
“It’s not your fault, Qing’er. You deserve to fucking make a life for yourself. And the fact you’re concerned about her shows you’re a good person.”
“What a cringe thing to say,” Mu Qing huffs through a life, lifting the cigarette to his lips. However, right before he takes a drag, he rewinds a few seconds and screws his face up at the other. “Wait, what the hell did you just call me?!”
“Qing’er,” Feng Xin repeats, loud and clear, shamelessly and affectionately. “Don’t like it?”
“… Not that, it just caught me off guard,” Mu Qing grumbles, rolling his eyes and he dragging on the cigarette again, as he realises Feng Xin thinks he’s some vulnerable guy and that was not what he wanted.
The rest of the walk is fairly peaceful, as they rant about things at university which are annoying them. The more they talk, the more Mu Qing warms up to him. Feng Xin really is straight-forward, and Mu Qing can deliver sarcastic remarks only to have his energy matched. It almost feels like they’re some old married couple bickering whenever they momentarily disagree about something.
Over half an hour later, they finally arrive at his accommodation, and Mu Qing slowly pulls his arm out from under Feng Xin’s elbow, the crook of his arm feeling cold already.
“Thanks… for walking me home,” he mutters.
“No problem,” Feng Xin grins, “Just a damsel in distress to me.”
“Hey,” Mu Qing hisses, kicking his shin.
“Joking, joking.” Feng Xin throws his arms up, lingering a little longer like he doesn’t want to leave yet. “Hey, you know I mentioned it’s my birthday soon. I’m going clubbing with a few friends this weekend and you can join if you want.”
Okay, so Mu Qing cannot think of anything worse than going to a nightclub. Sweaty, loud, normal people. On the other hand, he kind of needs to accept that having friends isn’t a bad thing, and, well, seeing Feng Xin again isn’t a terrible idea.
“Alright,” he sighs, “You can… text me the details.”
“Will do,” Feng Xin grins. He steps forward, taking Mu Qing’s hand and placing another hand on his cheek, pulling him closer. Mu Qing stands there stupidly, not realising what the other is even trying to do until Feng Xin’s lips are on his.
His eyes widen slightly at first, before he kisses back eagerly, and he doesn’t even know why. But after a few seconds, he gets self-conscious that he tastes like a goddamn ashtray, so he pulls away and steps back.
“You should rest,” Feng Xin says, “Get some sleep. Make sure you look just as pretty for when I see you next.”
“I don’t look pretty when I’ve been crying,” Mu Qing scoffs.
“Not true,” Feng Xin retorts, winking at him in the stupidest way possible, and finally turning to leave. “Goodnight.”
“… night…” Mu Qing mutters, before grabbing his keys and hurrying back inside so nobody else can witness the state of him; flushed lips, cheeks red, eyeliner smudged. As he enters his room, he avoids the mirror and flops face-down on the bed, thinking only one thing.
What the hell just happened?!
After the failure of their first date, and after spending a day contemplating blocking Feng Xin on everything and avoiding him simply because he saw him like that and probably thinks he’s a loser now, Mu Qing actually does see Feng Xin again. They meet at the gym three times, and then comes Feng Xin’s birthday party the following weekend.
Mu Qing has never been clubbing before, to nobody’s surprise. He’s not a big drinker and has only been drunk in his life two times, both of which were with his friends back in college. Crowded places give him the ick, but he agreed to go and went through with it because he can’t be a pussy anymore.
As he gets ready, eyeliner done with some glitter and his best outfit, he at least knows how to dress for the occasion this time. Even if it’s not explicitly a date (because what decent human being would want to date him and his rancid personality?), he knows to dress up for a night out. Also, he wants to impress Feng Xin. That too.
Once he’s ready to go, it’s still a bit early, so he takes a seat in the courtyard, lights a cigarette, and decides to call his mom. She’s still in hospital for monitoring, since the doctors are a little concerned the collapse might’ve been cardiac related, but she’s doing a lot better for the last few days.
“Evening, A-Qing,” she answers within a couple of rings. “I was just about to text you.”
“Yeah, I thought I’d… call now,” Mu Qing says, realising he’s going to have to tell his mom about Feng Xin now. “I’m… going out now.”
“Out? As in, out-out?” she chuckles.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, taking a long drag of smoke. “Out-out.”
“I see…” she hums, obviously surprised by the revelation. Because every time they’ve spoken, Mu Qing hasn’t mentioned having friends. “Who with?”
“Just… a guy… I’ve been seeing,” Mu Qing replies, glad she’s not here and can’t see the way his face heats up at the mere thought.
“Ooh, you’re going on a date?!” she beams, “A-Qing, that’s great news.”
“I’ve already been on a date with him. It was… alright,” Mu Qing explains, keeping it vague. “I met him at the gym. He was the one who approached me.”
“Ahh, romantic. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Mom, he’s not my boyfriend,” Mu Qing says, as he dumps his head in his hand and sighs. “That’s embarrassing.”
“Well, you must have some interest in him to be going out with him,” she points out. Goddammit, she’s always right.
“It’s just his birthday party. I couldn’t say no. I hate the idea of clubbing.”
“I never went clubbing much in my days either. Don’t drink too much, and watch your phone, alright?”
“I’ll be leaving as soon as it’s socially acceptable to go,” Mu Qing huffs, “How are… you? Feeling, and… all…”
“Oh, I’m alright, don’t worry about me,” she says, blasé as ever. “I should be leaving tomorrow.”
“That’s… good,” Mu Qing sighs, “Do you need me to come home for a bit?”
“A-Qing, A-Qing, don’t be silly. You’re there, pursue your future, seriously. And go after your boyfriend, I’m sure he’s a keeper.”
“Mom! He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Not yet.”
“Mom!” he yelps again, choking on the cigarette smoke.
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop teasing you now,” she chuckles, “Stay safe, okay? Have a good time.”
“Yeah, thanks… Have a good night.”
After she ends the call, Mu Qing sits back and takes a deep drag of smoke, pressing the back of his hand to his cheek in an attempt to cool it down. He can’t show up to the party like a flustered mess, even if he’ll become one the second Feng Xin compliments him. Once the cigarette is finished, he gets up, puts earphones in, and starts walking to the club. The walk takes over half an hour because he chose the cheaper option for accommodation and ended up ages away from everything.
Despite the long journey, Mu Qing still arrives there early, wondering why no one else is there, until he remembers it’s not socially acceptable to be early for this kind of thing. He glances back at the club and screws his face up, watching it fill up quickly as drunk people stagger to the entrance, some of whom definitely underage with fake IDs, and others getting turned away because they’re clearly too drunk. Mu Qing thinks he should’ve drunk something before this as well, but he’s not sure his tolerance is very high and he doesn’t want to get plastered before midnight at the very least.
A few minutes pass and the agreed meeting time passes too, so Mu Qing leans against a tree and lights a cigarette. Every so often, he looks back at the club to scrunch his face up in disgust. At the very least, he can see an outside terrace on one side of the building, so he can always escape to chain-smoke if necessary.
Fifteen minutes and two cigarettes later, Mu Qing finally sees Feng Xin arriving. There’re two other guys next to him who look like your typical dudebros, both of them talking with Feng Xin and acting like his best friends.
“Hey, Mu Qing!” Feng Xin yells, giving that cringe smile as he runs up and hugs him. He already smells like alcohol, and the hug makes Mu Qing physically recoil; more from shock than disgust, to be fair. “Shit, I didn’t actually think you’d come.”
Mu Qing huffs at that, releasing himself and narrowing his eyes at the other two guys, who are totally disinterested in him and appear to be doing some kind of drug exchange now. “Who are they?”
“I have no fucking clue,” Feng Xin shrugs, “I saw them while walking here and recognised them from some of my classes. I told them it was birthday and they just invited themselves, but I don’t even know their fucking names. Just ignore them.”
His bluntness really is appealing to Mu Qing. If he had to answer the same question, that’s basically how he would’ve responded, spare the excessive use of ‘fuck’.
“We gotta wait for Xie Lian to arrive, but he shouldn’t be too much longer,” Feng Xin says, “He gets a bit shit-scared of clubs, but he’ll be alright.”
“Hm,” Mu Qing frowns, placing the cigarette back between his lips and finally taking his earphones out. He vaguely remembers seeing Xie Lian outside the gym and thought he seemed like somewhat of a wimp. After exhaling a long drag of smoke, he asks, “Who else is coming?”
“A couple of my flatmates are coming later, and there’s a guy called Pei Ming I met at the gym lately. He might show up at one point,” Feng Xin says, “Then there’s Shi Qingxuan who’s friends with Xie Lian, though I dunno where the fuck she appeared from, she just wants an excuse to get drunk from what I heard. Oh, and Xie Lian’s new maybe-boyfriend should be coming, but I’ve only seen him from afar. Seems like a fucking creep to me.”
It sounds like a lot, but he hasn’t listed that many people. The crowd seems mixed, and Mu Qing could ask about all of them. Instead, he focuses on one irk. “You have another gym friend?”
“Please, do not be jealous of Pei Ming. I wouldn’t touch his cock with a barge pole. You’ll get why when you meet him.”
Raising an eyebrow, Mu Qing isn’t sure whether to continue being jealous, or melt onto the ground at the implication that Feng Xin would touch his cock?
“Have you been clubbing before?” Feng Xin asks.
“No.”
“Do you even drink?”
“Occasionally.”
“Hah, this could be fun then,” Feng Xin snorts. As Mu Qing inhales on the cigarette again, nearly finished, he feels Feng Xin staring at him in that intrigued, slightly lustful way again. “You look hot.”
“… Thanks,” Mu Qing sighs, placing a palm on his cheek to cool down the goddamn blushing. This could be a long night.
A minute later, Xie Lian and two others turn the corner. Immediately, a girl with very large breasts and a hot-pink minidress comes bouncing up to them, throwing her arms around Feng Xin and Mu Qing.
“Oh, oh my God!” she beams, as Feng Xin slides out of her grasp and leaves her grabbing Mu Qing and shaking him like a specimen. “This is so exciting! You’re the new boyfriend Xie Lian was telling me about!”
“I’m not his boyfriend,” Mu Qing denies instantly, eventually prying her arms off him. He drops the cigarette on the ground, turning his nose up as she puffs on a vape and the smell of artificial grapefruit assaults his nose.
“I didn’t say boyfriend,” Xie Lian disclaims, his arm wrapped around another man’s — dressed all in red, a creepy smirk on his lips. “Guys, this is Hua Cheng, my boyfriend. Actually boyfriend, for real.”
“Hey,” Feng Xin says, nodding at him briefly. Mu Qing, on the other hand, doesn’t bless him with an introduction.
“Are you a student as well?” Shi Qingxuan asks Hua Cheng, walking in circles. To be fair, she’s probably freezing in that dress. “I haven’t seen you around.”
“No,” Hua Cheng replies, “I just graduated. I’m looking to raise some money through investment and see where it goes. Perhaps open a business, whatever gege wants.”
“San Lang, that comment about the coffee shop was a joke,” Xie Lian chuckles nervously.
“Congrats, Xie Lian!” Shi Qingxuan squeals, throwing her arm around Xie Lian this time. “You landed yourself an older guy, and he’s rich!”
As Mu Qing looks to Feng Xin and raises an eyebrow, he just shrugs. At least both of them are getting the suspicious vibes
“Let’s go in,” Feng Xin says, “I need a fucking drink.”
“Me too, me too,” Shi Qingxuan nods along passionately. “My last drink was, like, twenty whole minutes ago!”
As they go in, Mu Qing is immediately assaulted by flashing lights and music loud enough to damage his eardrums permanently, which means a lot considering he usually has My Chemical Romance blasting full volume in his ears. Feng Xin leads the way to the bar and by the time Mu Qing turns around, the others have disappeared.
“Do you want a drink?” Feng Xin asks. Well, shouts, otherwise they can’t communicate.
“Sure.”
“Yeah? What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fucking speak up!” Feng Xin yells, “I can’t hear you!”
“I said I don’t know!” Mu Qing shouts back. “You pick!”
“Fine, fine,” Feng Xin sighs, turning to the bar as Mu Qing stands there, not knowing what to do with himself. He watches Feng Xin get two drinks which end up with vodka in this (it looks like a lot) and Redbull. Once he’s paid probably an extortionate amount, Feng Xin passes the drink to Mu Qing and clinks the plastic edge. “Cheers!”
Mu Qing grumbles something vaguely similar to cheers, then lets Feng Xin grab his hand and drag him towards the dance floor. Once they’re closer to the pit, he realises the music isn’t too bad. It’s not his genre, but it’s not too pop-style and is closer to indie rock, so it could be worse.
He stands at the edge for a bit, bodies already pressed up against his, as Feng Xin does some divorced dad head bops. Beside them, Shi Qingxuan, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng disappear into the sea of people, at which Feng Xin hooks his arm under Mu Qing’s elbow and yells, “Don’t get lost! Come on!”
“What—?!”
Before he can protest, Mu Qing is being dragged by the arm through the crowd packed tightly together, until they’re close to the middle. The song changes and Feng Xin says something indecipherable, then starts dancing like an idiot.
Now, Mu Qing has no idea how to dance. His only knowledge of this shit is from music videos and shitty movies him and his school friends watched, just to take the piss out of. But Feng Xin actually looks like he’s having fun, and that goofy smile on his face seems contagious. Mu Qing continues standing awkwardly nonetheless, until Feng Xin takes his holding the drink and pushes it to his lips.
“Drink this faster,” he says, “You fucking need it!”
“Shit,” Mu Qing curses, downing some of the drink and wincing as it burns his throat. Once the drink is almost gone in one go, Feng Xin grabs his waist from behind and starts trying to force his body to move with the music.
It feels… nice, but weird. Mu Qing decides to go along with it, hoping the strobe lighting doesn’t show him being flustered. He can do this. He just hopes to dear God that he doesn’t embarrass himself by getting too drunk.
Mu Qing’s alcohol tolerance turned out to be pretty fucking shit, unsurprisingly.
After nearly two hours of dancing with Feng Xin, three drinks and three shots later, he slips out of the other’s sight to the outside terrace. When he looks at the time on his phone (and his vision stays still for long enough for him to read the time), he sees it’s now gone midnight, but the alcohol and atmosphere means he’s not actually tired. As soon as the fresh air hit, however, he realised he was drunk.
He settles in the corner, lighting a cigarette and taking a few deep breaths. Everything is spinning, he feels sweaty, and he has to lean on the wall to not double over on the floor. His stomach doesn’t feel too uneasy yet, but he should definitely hold off on the alcohol for a bit, especially since his stomach is kind of fucked anyway. Soon enough, Feng Xin will realise he’s gone and come out here to find him.
When Mu Qing is halfway through his second cigarette, somebody starts approaching him, but his usual resting bitch face which says don’t talk to me isn’t working when he’s drunk, and instead he just looks sloppy.
“Hey, beautiful,” the guy says. He’s annoying good-looking, but even his voice pisses Mu Qing off. “What’s your name?”
“Fuck off. I’m not interested,” Mu Qing replies sharply, “Who even are you?”
“That’s for you to find out,” the other smirks, leaning on the wall next to him.
“What are you—”
“Pei Ming, fucking hell! Give it a break!” comes a very loud voice from behind Mu Qing. Feng Xin, obviously. “I’m the one who brought him here, so hands off!”
“Ahh, this is that guy,” Pei Ming, apparently, gives another grin, wrapping an arm around Feng Xin’s shoulder. “He’s a steal, I’ll give you that. What’s his name?”
“Mu Qing, and I told you, hands off,” Feng Xin says, “Mu Qing, this is Pei Ming. The guy I mentioned from the gym.”
“Right,” Mu Qing nods as he inhales on the cigarette, total disgust evident on his face.
“I’m down for a threesome,” Pei Ming suggests.
Yeah, now he understands exactly why Feng Xin told him not to feel threatened by this walking ick.
“No, ew?!” Feng Xin scoffs, shrugging his arm off his shoulders. “Lay off, for fucks sake. Go back inside.”
“Alright, cutie,” Pei Ming says, pinching Feng Xin’s butt cheek on the way out. “See you later.”
When Pei Ming leaves, Feng Xin turns back to see Mu Qing with both eyebrows raised, very judgemental.
“I told you,” Feng Xin says, leaning on the wall next to Mu Qing as he continues smoking. “I only met the guy a couple of times at the gym when Shi Qingxuan was also working out. He knows Shi Qingxuan, dunno how though. But I swear, you’re better.”
“How flattering,” Mu Qing snorts, “when the bar is on the floor.”
“Hah. Cocky,” Feng Xin says, “You want another drink?”
“Not yet,” Mu Qing replies. Well, he’s trying not to get hammered already. “It’s too overpriced.”
Okay, and he is conscious with money. He’s been trying to find a part-time job, but finding such a thing in a student-run city is near impossible, even with prior experience.
“I’ll be right back,” Feng Xin says, then turns around and leaves abruptly. Mu Qing huffs and snuffs out the current cigarette on the ground next to the previous, then immediately lights a third. Turns out, drinking and smoking go great together.
Five minutes pass before Feng Xin comes back, pushing a small cup into his hand with a shot glass inside. He looks down at it, then at Feng Xin. “What’s this?”
“Jägerbomb. Drink it all in one.”
“It smells grim.”
“It’s literally mostly Redbull. You’re emo, you like that shit,” Feng Xin says, snatching the cigarette out of his hand and dropping it on the ground. “Just drink it!”
“Hey! That was mine!” Mu Qing yelps, staring down at the perfectly good cigarette now on the ground.
“Yeah, and also your fucking third,” Feng Xin scoffs, “Now let’s go back inside.”
As they go back inside, Feng Xin gulps his drink in one go, dropping the cup on the side of the bar, and Mu Qing realises he has to do the same. He grimaces, knocking back the vile drink as well. It doesn’t sit too well in his stomach, but before he can pay too much attention to it, Feng Xin is pulling him through the crowd again to the centre of the dancefloor. When he’s this drunk, the amalgamation of sweaty bodies doesn’t feel half as bad as it did earlier.
Still, Mu Qing tries to hate it, because no reasonable person would actually enjoy this, right?
But he doesn’t hate it. The alcohol is clouding his judgement and making every song which plays sound like his favourite, and Feng Xin is touching his body with every move he makes. For once, Mu Qing closes his eyes and shuts out the world, allowing himself to feel just a little bit normal for the first time in his life.
The next few songs feel like a blur, and Feng Xin seems to edge closer with each one until their bodies are pressed together. Then, without warning, the moment Mr Brightside starts playing (Mu Qing would fucking hate this song if he wasn’t smashed right now), Feng Xin grabs his cheeks and presses their lips together. His fingers tangle through the roots of Mu Qing’s hair at the back of his head, tugging on it as he sinks his tongue past his lips. With a tiny yelp, Mu Qing startles at first, but quickly kisses back the moment he realises he likes this. A lot.
Feng Xin tastes the endless Redbull-vodka drinks he consumed, and Mu Qing probably tastes like cigarettes. They kiss like they’ve been doing this for year, like they’ve known every inch of each other for their entire lives. Everything is such a blur that Mu Qing doesn’t even realise where his hands are going until he’s gripping the back of Feng Xin’s thighs, squeezing his ass. He gets a brief flashback to the time him and Song Yuze’s cousin were doing this in a darkened bedroom, but this is much more intimate. At the time, he didn’t even remember that guy’s name.
As Mu Qing’s hands start sliding forward, Feng Xin grabs his hips and starts pushing them towards the outside of the crowd, their lips never parting. They don’t stop until Mu Qing’s back is pressed against the wall, which is vibrating from how loud the bass of the music is. Without thinking, Mu Qing’s hand slides towards Feng Xin’s crotch.
And then he feels it — the largest, hardest bulge in his pants ever — and gasps.
Feng Xin finally pulls away from the kiss, and it’s the first time Mu Qing has ever seen him blushing. His lips are red and swollen, perhaps from the couple of times Mu Qing bit them, and he’s staring down at his crotch in awe.
“Uh…” he mumbles, but the music covers any chance he has of speaking. When he catches Mu Qing staring as well, however, he smirks, takes his wrist, and pushes his hand over the bulge again.
“Holy shit…” Mu Qing whispers, feeling it. It’s… fucking massive, basically.
“We can keep dancing if you want,” Feng Xin says. Well, shouts. “It’s chill even if I’m hard!”
The people either side of them possibly heard them, yet Mu Qing is so drunk he doesn’t care how embarrassing that is. He can feel himself pulsing in his overly tight skinny jeans, and gets the immediate urge to do something. Not dance and edge each other further.
“No,” he says, in a somewhat whiny voice. He grabs Feng Xin’s shirt, yanking his head down so his ears are almost touching his lips. Then, he whispers directly into Feng Xin’s ear, “Wanna see it.”
Before Feng Xin can grace him with a rather crude response, Mu Qing takes his hand and starts dragging him towards the bathrooms. When they get there, there’s a lot of random things happening in the toilets, but he ignores it all and throws Feng Xin into one of the stalls.
Feng Xin, however, places his hands on Mu Qing’s waist and pushes him against the wall, their lips crashing together and his tongue in Mu Qing’s mouth straight away. All the while, Mu Qing, in a state of total fascination, starts battling to undo the zipper on his pants. He shoves his hand inside, feeling the entire length through his underwear.
“Can I?” he asks in a whisper, the music no longer blaring. The light in here means Feng Xin can definitely see what a flushed, sweaty mess he is, but he doesn’t care. They’re both drunk and horny, so nothing trivial like that matters. All that matters is that Mu Qing gets his eyes on what’s hiding under those clothes.
With sloppy hands, he pulls down Feng Xin’s pants and then boxers. Finally, the kiss breaks again, and Mu Qing looks down to see the biggest, most beautiful cock in the world. Okay, he hasn’t seen many, but he’s convinced it is nonetheless.
“Like it?” Feng Xin grins, running his fingers through Mu Qing’s hair. He reaches down, feeling the rock between Mu Qing’s legs as well (not quite as big, though). “I wanna see you too.”
“Mhm,” Mu Qing shakes his head, almost falling over as he kneels down in front of the other, gripping the shaft tightly. “Me first.”
“Fuck— okay,” Feng Xin chokes out, his fingers knotting through the other’s hair. He bites his tongue, trying his best not to moan as Mu Qing starts gently stroking the length.
Pre-cum already drips from the tip as he touches it. It’s incredibly crude to be doing this in the bathroom stall of a nightclub, and quite unhygienic, but… alcohol. Alcohol is really doing a number on his self-respect.
When stroking his member gets Feng Xin riled up enough, Mu Qing leans forward and slowly brings the tip to his lips, sliding his tongue over the sticky substance already leaking. He’s never given a blowjob before, but… lick, suck, move, then swallow. Can’t be that hard, right?
He must be doing something right, because when his mouth is halfway up his cock, Feng Xin clenches his fingers tighter around his hair and moans under his breath. Hastily, he slaps his other hand over his mouth, silencing himself. While Mu Qing would love to hear him actually moan, even his drunk ass understands that might draw attention, and he would not appreciate being interrupted right now.
Mu Qing can only fit two thirds of the length in his mouth before it’s near the back of his throat and he nearly gags. And with the amount of alcohol gurgling in his stomach already, that’s best to avoid. Once he’s reached a decent length, he finally starts moving his head back and forth, sliding his tongue over his cock with wet noises and quiet grunts. His fingers dig into Feng Xin’s thighs so hard they’ll likely bruise. Also, it’s the only thing keeping him upright, because being on the ground and moving his head is making him a bit dizzy.
“Mu Qing—” Feng Xin gulps, “Qing’er—”
“Mm,” Mu Qing huffs, glancing up to see the other with gritted teeth, head pressed against the wall. He smirks around his cock, going slowly and focusing on the tip. He feels it twitch in his mouth, and the pre-cum on his tongue increases.
“I’m gonna— Fuck, move—!” Feng Xin hisses.
Alright, so Feng Xin tried to warn him. He really did, but Mu Qing is a bit overconfident right now, and decides he can take it. Feng Xin’s legs wobble as he slumps back and moans into his hand, hitting climax right then and there.
The cum which shoots into Mu Qing’s mouth is… thicker than he expected, and it doesn’t taste good at all. Feng Xin moves his hand away from his hair, letting him move back. He looks down, grinning at the sight of Mu Qing on his knees, a bit of cum dripping over the side of his lip.
“Qing’er, just spit it out!” Feng Xin hisses, grabbing a bit of tissue to wipe his own cock before another bit to dab the other’s lips dry.
However, Mu Qing shakes his head and turns away, covering his mouth for a second. He tries really hard to swallow, but none of it is going down, and instead he gags. Hastily, he turns around and leans over the toilet, spitting the mouthful of cum into the bowl.
As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, he then retches and throws up for real.
“Oh, fuck,” Feng Xin curses, grabbing his hair and pulling it out of his face as his stomach voids itself of every drop of alcohol he consumed so far.
Mu Qing is aware he doesn’t look very sexy now, head in the toilet as he throws up; the only blessing is that he knows how to throw up silently following a certain unmentionable period in his life, so they won’t bring attention. Not that anyone in a club would bat an eye at someone throwing up. Oh, and he’s definitely not hard anymore, that’s for sure.
As he throws up, Feng Xin doesn’t do anything except hold his hair back. When he finally stops gagging, he passes him a bit of tissue again.
“Shit,” he mutters, helping Mu Qing stand up. “D’you wanna go home? You’ve had a bit much.”
“Not yet,” Mu Qing mumbles. Now his stomach is empty, he doesn’t feel as gross — a feeling he’s a bit too used to. His head is still clouded but he doesn’t feel like going home yet. His touched-starved ass is too obsessed with being intimate with someone, and he also feels like a normal person for once. Mu Qing doesn’t want to let of that yet.
“Qing’er, you just threw up,” Feng Xin says, “You sure you wanna stay out?”
“’m not a pussy,” Mu Qing whines, “I can stay. I’m fine now.”
“Well, sure, fuck it,” Feng Xin shrugs, flushing the toilet for him. He throws an arm over Mu Qing’s shoulders and starts pulling him out of the stall… and towards the bar. Evidently, he’s too drunk to think sensibly as well. “You gotta have another drink before I kiss you again.”
“Deal,” Mu Qing responds with a sloppy smirk, knees weak and mouth… tasting of vomit and cum. But the music is good, and he just made someone orgasm for the first time ever, and he’s a Normal! Person! Doing! Normal! Social! People! Things!
Once they go to the bar and get another drink, the rest of the night is pretty much blacked out entirely.
The next morning, Mu Qing wakes up to a suspicious scene: in a bed which isn’t his own, a headache pounding his skull, and a soreness in his ass he’s only felt vaguely once before.
He screws his eyes shut tighter to block out the light from the curtains which were never closed, turning over to see… Feng Xin, butt-naked, then he realises he’s also butt-naked. Once the room has stopped spinning, Mu Qing suppresses a deep groan as he forces his eyes open again, looking down at the floor. Both of their clothes are flung across the room, and to confirm what happened, there’s a used condom and a bottle of lube on the floor.
Rolling onto his back, Mu Qing places his arm over his eyes and tries not to throw up. He attempts to recall some memories from last night, but the last thing he remembers is giving Feng Xin a blowjob when he got hard, failing to swallow, and then throwing up. However, he definitely doesn’t remember coming back to Feng Xin’s place.
It takes a good few minutes for him to open his eyes and turn over once more, his back to Feng Xin. The movement stirs the other, and shortly after, he hears a quiet grunt from Feng Xin behind him.
“Ngh… fuck… my head…”
Mu Qing tenses up, wondering whether to turn around and face him; he probably does not look sexy right now, eyes red and eyeliner smudged.
“Qing’er?” Feng Xin says quietly, shaking his shoulder. “You awake?”
“Unfortunately,” Mu Qing huffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head (slowly).
Feng Xin, like he did, takes a few seconds to observe their surroundings, humming in thought before his eyes widen. “Oh, shit… What the fuck happened?”
“I have no idea,” Mu Qing deadpans, as he rubs his forehead and forces himself to sit up.
Carefully, Feng Xin sits up as well, then looks down at the condom on the floor and mutters, “Did I…?”
“Don’t know. It doesn’t hurt,” Mu Qing mumbles. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up, then immediately bends over as a pain shoots up from his backside to his ribs. He even unconsciously grabs the back of his ass. “Yeah, you did.”
“Damn,” Feng Xin snorts, “Wish I remembered.”
“Sure…” Mu Qing says under his breath, frantically grabbing his clothes and trying to redress, keeping his back to Feng Xin the whole time. Once he’s covered his most indecent parts, he clutches his shirt and runs his fingers through the knots in his hair, mumbling, “I’m going to the bathroom.”
“Don’t drown,” Feng Xin comments off-handedly as he slumps back in the bed, waving him off.
Mu Qing chooses to ignore the peculiar remark and hurries into the bathroom, locking it behind himself and sighing. He looks in the mirror, horrified to see bite marks around his neck and nipples, bruises on the sides of his hips. Not to mention the black smudges all around his eyes which demonstrate he’s cried at least once. At this point, he just hopes it was because of sex and not because he’s an emotional drunk. After splashing some cold water on his face, he turns to the toilet just to empty his bladder, screwing his face up at the state of the bathroom. This has definitely never been cleaned since Feng Xin moved in.
Once he finishes his business and makes himself look semi-presentable, and fully dressed, Mu Qing returns to the room, seeing Feng Xin still lying in the same place but on his phone now.
“Are you leaving?” Feng Xin asks, cocking an eyebrow as Mu Qing grabs his jacket from the floor.
“Yes,” he huffs, “I have things to do today.”
Not strictly true, but Mu Qing would rather do the walk of shame than suffer through this hangover here, with the guy he slept with and doesn’t even remember. He starts rummaging through his pockets, making sure he has everything, before sifting through each one to find the cigarettes. Because God, he needs one right now.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t find them. Keys, phone, wallet, black lipstick, even the lighter, but no cigarettes.
“You lose something?” Feng Xin asks, checking under the pillows as well.
“Just my cigarettes,” Mu Qing says, “Shit.”
“You probably just lost them outside in the smoking area. You were pretty fucking drunk,” Feng Xin snickers, “but there’s tons of shops around here, so you can easily buy more.”
“Just buy more,” Mu Qing hits back mockingly, shooting him a sharp glare. “You’ve obviously never been poor.”
Feng Xin just shrugs. “I’ve also never been a smoker.”
Rolling his eyes, Mu Qing puts his jacket on and then his shoes (very not elegantly). “I’m going home. I’ll text you later.”
“Are you going to the gym today?” Feng Xin asks, giving some shit hungover version of his pleading puppy eyes.
“Absolutely not,” Mu Qing scoffs. He would probably throw up if he tried to exercise in this state.
“Damn. Alright, lemme get dressed so I can let you out the building,” Feng Xin says. When he stands up, with no shame, his cock dangles from between his legs and Mu Qing almost chokes. How the fuck did he fit that absolute unit inside him?!
Once he’s dressed, Feng Xin grabs his keycard and opens the door. Mu Qing keeps his head down and prays none of his flatmates step out of their rooms and sees him. The corridors are a lot newer than his accommodation, and he guesses Feng Xin comes from a family with a lot of money. When he checks his phone, Mu Qing realises it’s already 10am and there’s a few texts from his mom asking if he made it home. Well, he made it to someone’s home.
They get outside the building and Mu Qing stands there for a bit, not sure what to do or say. He crosses his arms over his chest, turning to Feng Xin and looking up, but the words get stuck in his throat.
Fortunately, Feng Xin is a much better initiator. He uncrosses his arms, then grabs Mu Qing’s hips, pulls him closer, and kisses him. Mu Qing relaxes as soon as the other’s palm cups his cheek, so he kisses back, trying to ignore the mildly gross taste of stale beer.
When Feng Xin pulls away, he plants a soft kiss on Mu Qing’s forehead and whispers, “I do remember it, by the way. You were fucking amazing.”
“… Thanks…?” Mu Qing stammers, blushing like hell. “I-I’ll… see you soon.”
Before Feng Xin can say anything else cringe, he turns around and starts walking home, also in the direction of the nearest convenience store. As he’s walking home, only one thought crosses his mind over and over; the same as after their first date, but in a different way.
What the fuck just happened?!
After spending half the day in bed, sleeping off the hangover, Mu Qing actually manages to get his ass up to do something productive. He decides food shopping can wait until tomorrow after his lectures, and… after the gym session with Feng Xin. He’s not sure how he’ll be able to look the other in the eye, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.
By the evening, he’s completed most of the pre-reading for his lectures next week. He’s not fully recovered, and sitting at his desk in a dark room makes him yawn repeatedly. Once the final text is finished, he throws it to the corner of the desk and then stands up, stretching his back and grabbing the cigarettes. He’s earned it.
Just as he puts his shoes on, his phone on the desk starts vibrating. Mu Qing looks at it quickly, a part of him wanting it to be Feng Xin, but instead, it’s his mother. She’s undoubtedly going to ask for all the details of last night, and somehow he thinks talking to Feng Xin would be less embarrassing.
However, he hasn’t spoken to her since yesterday, and part of him starts thinking something might be wrong if she’s calling. But then he sees the text he must’ve missed, asking if he’s free. It’s from an hour ago, and since he may have forgotten to even text her that he made it back home (via another man’s bed), Mu Qing realises he has to answer it.
Taking a deep breath, he waits until he’s out of his flat before answering, “Hey mom.”
“Evening, A-Qing,” she says cheerily, “So you survived last night?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, walking out of his room towards the courtyard. One of his flatmates sees him leave, but he avoids eye contact. He hates all of them.
“I assumed you’d be home already, but I didn’t hear from you.”
“I’m alright,” Mu Qing mumbles, sitting on a bench once he’s outside and sticking a cigarette between his lips. As he digs through his pocket for the ligther, he adds sheepishly, “Sorry I didn’t text you. I wasn’t… thinking about it.”
“Oh, A-Qing, did you drink a lot?” she chuckles.
“… Yeah, a bit,” he mutters, flicking on the lighter and taking a long drag from the cigarette as soon as it’s lit. “But it was… good, I guess.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she says, and he can just hear the smile in her voice. “I’m back from the hospital now. The community transport dropped me off this morning, so I’m all safe again.”
“Sure,” Mu Qing grumbles, rolling his eyes as he inhales on the smoke again. She’s hardly safe on her own, but he has to live his life as well, as selfish as it may make him feel.
“Tell me about this new guy, then,” his mother pries, “You only mentioned you met him at the gym last night. I wanted to ask so much more!”
“He’s… alright,” Mu Qing says, and that’s all he can grace her with.
“Pfft, that’s a terrible answer. Give me all the gossip.”
I don’t think you want all the details, Mu Qing replies in his head. “It was just fine. I met his friends and stuff.”
As he drags on the cigarette, he presses his cheek against his hand to find himself burning up, simply because he’s never had a romantic interest before and it’s making him embarrassed to talk about.
“What’s his name?”
“Feng Xin.”
“Ahh, rolls right off the tongue. What does he study?”
“Just sports science. Not a real subject.”
“Interesting…” she hums, before asking more sincerely, “Do you like him?”
Mu Qing takes another deep inhale from the cigarette, before exhaling and reluctantly admitting, “Yeah, I think I do.”
“So I can start wedding planning? Perfect. You know, if you two got married, your name could be Feng Qing. Isn’t that cute?”
“Gross,” Mu Qing deadpans.
“You’ll come around to it. I’m really happy you’re meeting people and making friends, though. I hope getting a fresh start helps you.”
“I think it does,” Mu Qing replies quietly, but at least he’s being honest and accepting it’s okay to be… actually okay. “How are you doing?”
“Same as,” she says rather vaguely, “One of my letters from the disability funding people came while I was in hospital and I missed it, so I’m missing out on one of my payments this month. But I’m sure my carers will help me around it.”
Mu Qing snorts under his breath, flicking the ash off the cigarette. He hates those carers. “Sorry. I don’t have any extra from my loan right now.”
“A-Qing, you’ve worked enough for me over the years. You can keep your money, it’s really alright.”
“No, I’ll… I’m looking for a job,” Mu Qing says, breathing out another cloud of smoke. “Feng Xin’s friend’s weird boyfriend might be opening a café or something, so I could… ask for a recommendation, maybe.”
“Only for yourself, though. Don’t overwork yourself because of me.”
“I won’t,” Mu Qing mumbles, before he feels his stomach grumble. He hasn’t eaten in about 24-hours now, having been unable to stomach the mere thought of food as he battled his hangover. Hopefully, he’ll have some ingredients in his cupboard to scrape together into a meal. “I have to go make dinner now. I’ll… call this week when I get time.”
“Whenever you’re free. Spend more time with Feng Xin, okay? He’s a keeper.”
Mu Qing cocks his eyebrow and scoffs. “Why? Because he’s interested in me?”
“That, and other things,” his mother laughs, “Goodnight, A-Qing. I love you.”
“… love you…” he whispers, hanging up the call and sitting back, inhaling the last drag from the cigarette. After snuffing it out in the ashtray next to the bench, he looks at his phone, sees an onslaught of texts from Feng Xin — mostly bad memes, a few pictures from last night which he does not remember taking, and ending on an invitation for another date — and smiles like an idiot.
The moment Mu Qing catches himself grinning like this, he slaps himself. God, he really does have a crush on Feng Xin. This might actually go somewhere.
Hopefully, he can keep his cool and Feng Xin will not learn that, in reality, he’s quite mentally unstable and incredibly sensitive.
That did not last as long as Mu Qing had hoped.
It’s been two weeks since the birthday night out, and they’ve met up regularly. They’ve even had sex twice now, sober!
Mu Qing is enjoying the concept of having a potential partner, but he’d be lying if he said it was easy. Every time they meet up, he has this nagging voice in the back of his head that Feng Xin doesn’t actually like him and that he’s only sticking with him because he feels bad for him or something. However, he sucks it down and doesn’t say anything irrational, not wanting to be seen as needy or sensitive. Even if he is.
It’s a regular Thursday afternoon when things go wrong. He’s sitting in the maths library watching a lecture, finishing the most boring video he’s ever watched before slamming the laptop closed and looking outside, longing for a smoke break. Squinting, he watches as rain beats down against the windows, reluctant to stand outside in that, but, well, he needs a cigarette anyway.
So, Mu Qing puts on his jacket and follows the usual ritual, putting his hood up making him unrecognisable. He walks outside and scowls, looking around before finding a wall ledge in the corner of the building under a shelter. Once he’s sat, he pulls a cigarette out and lights it, taking a long drag and leaning his head against the wall.
After a couple of drags, he looks ahead and sees Feng Xin standing on the corner of the street, glancing around as if he’s waiting for someone.
Mu Qing, only briefly, considers walking up to him, just to see him. But… he’ll get wet, and he’s kind of tired. He’s been run-down the last couple of days, possibly getting a cold because his immune system is still a bit shit after having an eating disorder for so long, and he’s not in a talking mood right now.
As he stares at Feng Xin from afar, he scoffs and almost smiles. He’s looking at his phone, with no hood or coat or umbrella.
Then, out of nowhere, a girl comes over. A girl! Fluffy hood, short skirt, long brown hair, face caked in make-up, large hoop earrings, and… really fucking pretty.
What further rubs it in is the fact that she hugs Feng Xin, and has the motherfucking audacity to kiss his cheek!
Mu Qing is, to put it lightly, absolutely fuming, because Feng Xin, although he stiffens slightly, doesn’t push her away at all. Rage fills him, as he concludes Feng Xin has been seeing a girl.
Feng Xin, having a girlfriend. Who else would this be?! Feng Xin has been two-timing him, making up a lie about some crazy ex-girlfriend. Well obviously that was all a cover story. Clearly, he’s just been seeing Mu Qing as one big joke against him. Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan and all those people must be in on it too, laughing from afar, seeing how far Mu Qing will fall for him before they break it to him that none of it means anything.
Although Mu Qing can’t hear anything which is said from afar, and certainly not over the rain, it looks as if she’s flirting with him. Throwing her arm under his elbow, smiling… Disgusting.
He’s jealous, okay? He’s insanely jealous. Mu Qing is so mad he doesn’t actually pay attention to whether Feng Xin is reciprocating any of this. But he’s not pushing her away. Which means Feng Xin is totally into this.
Unable to stand it anymore, he throws the cigarette aside and storms back inside, keeping his hood up and head down to avoid being seen. He tries to seem normal and not on the verge of a breakdown as he aggressively packs his things back into his rucksack, then leaves the building by the back entrance, just in case Feng Xin sees him. Oh, but surely if he saw him, he’d get all sheepish and panic, “it’s not what it looks like!” or some shit. It is absolutely what it looks like, Mu Qing is convinced.
Mu Qing did pack an umbrella, but he’s so distraught he walks home without it, his hoodie getting soaked. By the time he makes it home, his clothes are drenched through, and the rain on his face hides the fact he’s basically been crying for the whole walk. Fine, he must look incredibly pathetic right now. But it’s warranted! He just found out his newfound crush, the guy he genuinely thought he had a chance with, is seeing some other girl after all. Just as he feared; this was all one big joke against him, like everything in his life seems to be.
After throwing his bag on the floor, he flops face down on the bed and just cries. But then he realises he’s getting his bed soaked, so he sits up and rips off his hoodie, throwing that on the floor as well. When he checks his phone, he sees Feng Xin texted him to ask if he’s on campus because he’s with Xie Lian. Mu Qing leaves the message on read.
His jeans are drenched too, so he undressed into just his boxers and curls up in a blanket, keeping his face buried in the pillow to muffle his sobs. God forbid if his flatmates heard this embarrassing display. His heart is pounding, entire body trembling, and it’s not long before the hyperventilating makes his stomach turn as well.
Mu Qing desperately does not want to throw up right now, but the more he thinks about everything, how Feng Xin actually has a girlfriend and none of this meant anything — all of the trust and self-control he put into this — the more it hurts deeply. It’s not long before he sits up, stares at the wall, then runs to the bathroom and throws up.
Not a good memory. Even though it’s been three years, he still feels barely recovered from his bulimia era, and even one slip plus his self-esteem dropping won’t have good results. Nonetheless, he vomits until his stomach is empty and his throat hurts, slumping back against the wall. As he stands up and shuffles back to his bed, he sees his mom calling, but now isn’t the time for that. She’ll be able to tell he’s been crying from one word.
He changes into a new pair of boxers and another hoodie, sitting on the bed and staring into space. Now he’s cried out all his tears, he just feels numb. Mu Qing decides the best way to go about this is to ignore Feng Xin until he hates him, and never wants to speak to him, and that means it’ll be Mu Qing who put the distance between them so he doesn’t have to be rejected by the other first.
Clearly, he’s too mentally unstable and sensitive for this whole relationship shit.
As if to rub it in, Feng Xin then starts calling less than a minute later. Mu Qing cuts off the call immediately then throws his phone across the room. He has plans to go to the cinema with him tomrorow night, but now he won’t go. He’ll leave him hanging. No, he won’t talk about it, or consider the rational possibility that that girl wasn’t a romantic interest. He feels far too played and humiliated to do something like think rationally.
Coping isn’t one of his talents. If Mu Qing actually liked drinking, this would be a great time to go out and buy a bottle of wine and drink alone, but he hasn’t reached the age where he appreciates alcohol enough yet. Also, there’s no way in hell he can leave like this.
After sitting on the bed staring into space for a while, Mu Qing takes a deep breath and finally wipes his cheeks, getting rid of the gross feeling of dried tears. He decides he needs to smoke, because that’s his only other coping mechanism (you know, other than making himself throw up, but whatever, that’s old now), but as mentioned before, he cannot go outside like this.
Mu Qing stares at the window for a few moments, before standing up and propping it open. He has one technique which works. One single time when he was at home, he got struck down by the flu and was bedridden for a couple of days; he couldn’t make it down the stairs to the garden, but he need to smoke, and he somehow got away with it. So, he turns on the fan and aims it at the window, lights a stick of incense, puts a sock over the fire alarm (that’s something he learnt from his stoner flatmates), and sits on the window ledge.
As he lights a cigarette, the first drag of smoke is a vague comfort. So what if he’s risking his deposit here? Mu Qing thinks he deserves it for today’s trauma.
Once he’s on the second cigarette, he sees his phone ringing again across the room. Instead of thinking, wow, Feng Xin must be concerned about me, he interprets it as this really is one big game and Feng Xin is just extremely good at playing it. He’s playing him.
Mu Qing focuses on the cigarette, refusing to cry any more about this. In reality, while he hates Feng Xin, he also hates himself for letting himself develop feelings.
That was a mistake, clearly. Now, he must go back to being a giant asshole and hope that protects him.
The following night, when the time he was supposed to meet Feng Xin comes, Mu Qing is not there. Rather, he’s sat in bed, curled up in a blanket and eating ice cream from the tub. And feeling sorry for himself.
(Okay, so he shouldn’t be binge eating anything with his history, but as long as he doesn’t purge it, it’s all fine. He deserves the ice cream.)
Ten minutes after the agreed meeting time, Feng Xin texts him.
[From Feng Xin, 20:11]
When are you getting here??
Mu Qing scoffs, picking up his phone. He stares at the message for a bit, wondering if he should leave him on read or respond just to rub it in. Eventually, he decides the latter.
[To Feng Xin, 20:13]
I’m not going.
[From Feng Xin, 20:13]
wait What the fuck???
This time, Mu Qing just ignores it. After finishing the entire tub of ice cream, he tosses it in the bin and goes back to the window to chain-smoke. Smoking inside is not a habit he should get used to, but a small comfort right now.
Three cigarettes later, there’s a knock at his door.
Frowning, Mu Qing snuffs out the cigarette on the window sill and tosses it into the bushes below. Surely his flatmates can’t be knocking — he’s mostly avoided them and they rarely speak to him now they’ve figured out he’s completely anti-social and has no interest in befriending them. He tries to ignore it at first, but the knocking gets more insistent after a minute, so he rolls his eyes, sprays some deodarent to try concealing the smell of smoke, and storms over to the door.
Really, Mu Qing should’ve expected to see Feng Xin standing there. He narrows his eyes at him, keeping the door only half open. “How the hell did you get into the building?”
“Stood by the door until someone opened it for me,” Feng Xin shrugs, “then I knocked on the front door of your flat, said I was here for Mu Qing, and no one questioned it.”
“Idiots,” Mu Qing huffs. Does nobody care about security these days?!
“Uh…” Feng Xin says, trying to poke his head in the door. “Are you sick or something.”
“No,” Mu Qing deadpans, “I don’t want to go out with you.”
“What the actual fuck?”
“Goodbye.”
When Mu Qing tries to slam the door and never see him again, Feng Xin pushes back on it and stops him. “Can we at least fucking talk?!”
With a heavy, exaggerated sigh, Mu Qing rolls his eyes and opens it. He doesn’t want to talk, but he also doesn’t want this conversation in the corridor where all his flatmates will here. As soon as it’s open fully, Feng Xin barges in and slams it behind him, walking into the centre of the room and just… standing there. Like an idiot.
Mu Qing crosses his arms over his chest, knowing he must’ve figured this out now. Surely he can’t be that dumb. “Well?”
“Dude, I dunno why the fuck you’re staring at me like that,” Feng Xin says, throwing his arms up. “I have no idea what I’ve done to offend you. We’ve barely fucking spoken over the last couple of days!”
Scoffing, Mu Qing replies bitterly, “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“No! I didn’t fucking say that!” Feng Xin yells, “But you’re mad at me for something and I don’t have a clue what I did!”
“Obviously you don’t! You’re stupid if you can’t figure it out,” Mu Qing says, and for a split second, Feng Xin looks hurt. So he decides to make it more obvious, waving his hand towards the door and dropping casually, “Just go cry about it to your girlfriend or whatever.”
Immediately, Feng Xin looks dumfounded. His eyes widen slightly, and then he looks plainly confused. “Girlfriend? Girlfriend?! What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh please, don’t play dumb. I’m not blind.”
“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, Qing’er—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Mu Qing, then, fucking hell. I don’t have a fucking girlfriend!”
“Really?” Mu Qing snorts derisively, “So who’s that stupidly pretty girl you were being all cuddly and flirty with yesterday?! You thought you could hide it, but I’m not stupid. Yeah, I saw it, so your cover is blown and you can go home now.”
“Who? Wait, no, seriously, that’s not—”
“You’re digging your own grave if you’re denying it, Feng Xin! Do you really think I’m blind?! Do you want me to think of you as a cheater and a liar?!”
“I’m not a fucking cheater, Mu Qing! I don’t understand how you trust me that little to just fucking assume that based off one interaction?!”
“So who the fuck was that?!”
Feng Xin is taken aback once again, mostly because Mu Qing barely ever swears, and he certainly doesn’t raise his voice like this. He sighs, rubbing his forehead and trying to explain. “Okay, fine, that’s Jian Lan, my ex, but we haven’t—”
“Your ex, ha! I knew it! Of course you’re still seeing your ex!” Mu Qing laughs almost evilly, stepping further away from him. “I knew you wouldn’t be content with just me! I knew you wouldn’t— I knew no one would ever actually be into someone like me! You just have a laugh about it like everyone else, right?! You can go to your friends and tell them—!”
“Qing’er!”
Right when Mu Qing is about to yell at him not to call him that then continue his monologue, Feng Xin lunges forward, grabs his cheeks, and kisses him. Mu Qing desperately doesn’t want to fall for this guy, he’s a mess right now, but Feng Xin kisses him like he seriously means it.
He can’t help but kiss back, and only when Feng Xin brushes his thumb over his cheek does he realise he’s crying. Well, if Feng Xin wasn’t cheating on him after all, he certainly won’t want to be with him after this display.
Eventually, Feng Xin pulls away, caresses his cheek again, and laughs. “Look at you. You got all upset and for what?”
Mu Qing swats his hand away gently, frantically trying to wipe his tears as he sniffles. “Y-You don’t really like me like that. You just… think I’m pretty or whatever.”
“Well, yeah, you’re fucking fit as hell,” Feng Xin chuckles, “but you’re also a good person, even if you don’t want to accept that, and you keep me on my toes. I like that. I’ve been telling everyone about you, you know that, right?”
“No…” Mu Qing mutters, pouting like a child. Well, he’s definitely blown his shot with Feng Xin now. This must be a deal-breaker. No one wants a crazy, jealous, possessive boyfriend.
Still, Mu Qing feels far too sheepish to keep yelling, and stands there in silence. Feng Xin doesn’t seem intimidated at all, as he sits on the bed and pulls Mu Qing onto his lap. Even though he’s scared of his own feelings, Mu Qing follows his guide and straddles his hips, holding his shoulders as Feng Xin wraps his arms around his waist. This would be a very suggestive position right now if Mu Qing didn’t literally just have a mental breakdown.
“Jian Lan is my ex, yeah,” Feng Xin starts, tightening his grip on his hips like he’s scared Mu Qing will run away. Well, he might. “But from a year ago, Qing’er. I dated her in college, we planned to go to university here together, but I just wasn’t into her. I don’t think I like girls at all. But she’s a good person, and my fucking idiot ass not realizing I’m not into girls is no reason for her to just not have any friends. So… yeah, I do still see her sometimes, but there’s nothing going on. Seriously. When you saw us yesterday, it was because I was waiting for my seminar group and she was just passing.”
Mu Qing nods along, finally relaxing in his hold although his grip on his shoulders tightens. He looks down at the other, expecting to see anger in his eyes, but all he sees is this stupidly soft expression.
“Do you think I’m crazy now?” he asks.
Feng Xin just snorts at the question. “Like, crazy possessive or mentally unstable?”
Mu Qing huffs and pouts. “Both.”
“Possessive? Nah, not really. I don’t feel the tiniest fucking bit threatened by you,” Feng Xin says, “Mentally unstable, however? Yeah, I’m not gonna lie, a bit.”
“Sorry,” Mu Qing sighs, his voice small and… rather quite pathetic, actually. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“Hey, listen,” Feng Xin whispers, pulling him even closer so their chests are almost pressed together. He reaches up, stroking his cheek and giving that stupid soft grin. “I’m a pretty hardcore guy, and I don’t give up easily on people. So you’re in with me for the long run, whether you believe me or not.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Mu Qing scoffs, leaning into his hand. Because despite all of this, despite all the dedication Feng Xin has demonstrated already, he still doesn’t quite believe anyone could actually love him and want to be with him.
“Good, ‘cuz I’ll stay!” Feng Xin says, before pushing the other down onto the bed. Not in a sexual way, but a ‘hug tackle’ way, burying Mu Qing’s head in his chest as he holds him tightly.
At first, Mu Qing is hesitant to display the same affection back, especially after Feng Xin just witnessed his little mental breakdown. But his bodies goes limp eventually, partly from exhaustion but also relenting. He feels silly for falling for someone so fast, but he also feels weirdly secure in the other’s arms.
“So,” Feng Xin starts, flicking his forehead. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Mu Qing purses his lips and debates what’s safe to tell him. Maybe he could tell him he had an eating disorder and is still semi-recovering, but that’ll surely come up in context at some point in future. Admitting he was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder a year ago? That’s a hard no.
“No,” he mutters, “You can figure out the rest.”
“Challenge accepted,” Feng Xin smirks, brushing his thumb over his lips, his cheeks a little damp from before. “You still wanna go to the cinema?”
“No. I don’t feel like going out.”
“D’you want me to go home?”
“… No,” Mu Qing mumbles, his fingers curling tighter around the back of Feng Xin’s shirt.
“You’re like a fucking cat, you know,” Feng Xin snickers, before hooking his arms under the other’s legs and scooping him onto his chest. Mu Qing lets out a quiet hum, closing his eyes and burying his face in his neck. He doesn’t protest as Feng Xin moves his legs either side of his thighs and starts slowly grinding him.
Honestly, maybe it says a lot about Feng Xin that he just saw how fucking unstable he is and he remains whipped for him.
Maybe there is hope for them after all.
A month passes, winter starts creeping in, and they’re still together.
Mu Qing, miraculously, hasn’t scared him off, despite trying to at some points. Feng Xin stays, every damn time, pestering him until he figures out what non-events upset Mu Qing. Okay, he’s not any better at talking about his feelings, but even a month is enough time for Feng Xin to get better at the guessing game.
And Mu Qing… actually likes spending time with him, which is a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. Hanging out with his emo gang in college didn’t feel like this. He’s so weirdly content with Feng Xin’s presence that he even agrees to let him study with him, on the afternoons where he used to relish in being alone.
It’s a Friday afternoon, cold and windy, when they’re sitting in the maths library doing university work together; exactly four weeks after that unfortunate incident with Jian Lan. For the most part, Mu Qing actually ignores him, headphones in as he studies his notes, but Feng Xin kicking his leg or grabbing his thigh under the table brings a sort of annoyed amusement which he doesn’t shut out.
After nearly an hour of hard work, Mu Qing slams his laptop closed, stands up, and shrugs his jacket on.
“Where are you going?” Feng Xin asks, getting a few glares from the people around them. Feng Xin has yet to grasp the concept of libraries being silent study places.
“Smoke,” Mu Qing huffs, relieved he no longer has to worry about his stuff getting stolen when he goes outside for a cigarette.
Before Feng Xin can tease him (like he did when he announced he was going for a smoke break forty-five minutes ago, and the hour before that), Mu Qing walks straight out of the building and across the small courtyard, sitting on the wall across from the building. As he lights a cigarette, he can’t stop himself squinting at the corner where he had that little episode four weeks ago.
It wasn’t catastrophic, and he still struggles to grasp that him and Feng Xin have been officially dating for over two weeks now. Mu Qing is simply baffled by it all. He has a boyfriend, who loves him and wants to spend time with him, and he doesn’t hate it.
Weird.
It’s peaceful as he smokes the cigarette for a couple of minutes, before the door swings open and Feng Xin comes running over, holding Mu Qing’s phone in his hand.
“Qing’er!” he calls, “Your mom is calling.”
“Oh,” Mu Qing huffs, standing up and meeting him halfway, only now remembering that he told his mom he was free this afternoon. He doesn’t answer it straight away, shooing Feng Xin back towards the building. “Thanks. Now go away.”
Feng Xin cocks an eyebrow, staying put. “Have you seriously still not told her about me?”
“I’ve told her about you in general,” Mu Qing mumbles, taking a long drag of smoke as the phone carries on ringing in his hand. “Just not the part about you being my… you know…”
“You know what? My boyfriend?” Feng Xin grins.
“Yes, now shut up,” Mu Qing hisses, finally answering the call before it goes to answerphone. “Hey, mom.”
“Ass. I’ll wait,” Feng Xin mutters from the sidelines, getting a glare in response.
“A-Qing, good afternoon,” his mom greets him, “Is now a good time to talk? You said you were free, but I didn’t know if you were out.”
“I’m free now,” Mu Qing says quietly, turning his back to Feng Xin and walking back towards the wall. He places the cigarette between his lips, inhaling deeply before asking, “How did you appointment go?”
“It was good. Regular, I suppose. My blood tests aren’t any different from normal, so that’s a good sign. Back to baseline, haha.”
“Yeah… that’s good,” Mu Qing replies. He tries not to sound too sad, considering his mom’s normal nowadays is just not on the verge of dropping dead.
However, before he can sit back down on the wall, he hears Feng Xin’s footsteps thundering towards, like the goddamn oaf he is, at high speeds. With no time to react, he only manages to turn around before Feng Xin tackles him and grabs his phone.
“Hey!” he yelps, trying to grab it back. “Feng Xin?!”
“A-Qing? Are you there?”
“Give it back!” Mu Qing yells.
Feng Xin has his own plans. He puts the phone on speaker, talking obnoxiously loud. “Hey, Mu Qing’s mom. It’s Feng Xin here.”
“Oh, Feng Xin! I’ve heard so much about you,” she beams, “It’s good to finally speak to you. A-Qing has been all secretive.”
“Yeah, he’s just like that,” Feng Xin teases, as Mu Qing continues trying to scramble to get the phone back, even dropping his cigarette in the process. His cheeks burn red in fear of whatever ungodly embarrassing thing Feng Xin might say to his mother.
“Aha, tell me about it!”
By this point, Mu Qing gives up trying to get his phone back, as he realises Feng Xin is actually very similar to his mom; they can both talk for hours. It won’t be hard to get his mom’s approval, that’s for sure. Instead, he steps back and lights another cigarette, rolling his eyes as Feng Xin grins evilly at him.
“Anyway, I’m Feng Xin. Mu Qing’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?! He never told me that! I could’ve guessed it, given how much time he spends with you and talks about you.”
“Oh yeah? Qing’er talks about me? What’s he saying?”
“Don’t call me Qing’er in front of her…” Mu Qing says weakly. He might really die from embarrassment right now.
Feng Xin responds by sticking his tongue out.
“He doesn’t say anything too bad, don’t worry,” she laughs, “I wish you the best. Take care of my son though, alright? He’s a little bit fragile sometimes.”
“Mom!” Mu Qing shrieks, moving closer to the phone. “D-Don’t say it like that?!”
“Don’t worry, I know already,” Feng Xin says, squeezing Mu Qing’s hand and flashing that goofy smile again. “I’ll treat him good.”
“Perfect. You know I always hoped—”
“Mom, I’m gonna have to call you back later,” Mu Qing says frantically, eventually snatching the phone back off Feng Xin.
“No problem. Have fun with your boyfriend.”
“I won’t,” Mu Qing huffs before he hangs up, dragging on the cigarette and glaring at Feng Xin. “You’re an ass.”
“What?! You didn’t want her to know?!”
“Well I did! But I was planning to tell her in my own time!”
“C’mon, it’s funny!” Feng Xin says, taking a seat on the wall. “Ahh, fuck, I need a break from studying.”
“You haven’t done any studying,” Mu Qing scoffs, before slowly sitting down next to him. He flicks the ash off the cigarette, taking another inhale as he narrows his eyes at the other. “You just stared at the screen and kicked my shin a few times.”
“Yeah, exhausting,” Feng Xin replies.
“Sure,” Mu Qing murmurs, giving another courteous eye roll. Silence falls between them for a moment, as he smokes and Feng Xin stares at the sky. Tentatively, Mu Qing then looks to Feng Xin and asks, “Do… Do your family know about me?”
“Mine?” Feng Xin asks, taken aback.
“Who else’s?”
“Uh, yeah. They kind of do,” Feng Xin answers, “I told them I have a boyfriend and they’re chill with it, I guess. But my family are kinda like… stereotypical rich people. A bit conservative, I fucking hate it as well. I’d give it a bit of time before you meet them.”
“Hm,” Mu Qing frowns, exhaling a long trail of smoke from his lips. He hates rich people. “Are you close with them?”
“Yeah, I mean, I’m really close with my family,” Feng Xin says, “but I don’t think it’s in the same way as you are with your mom.”
“I see…” Mu Qing hums. The whole concept of meeting the parents is crazy to him, but if he can at least be civil with him, they might have a shot at a normal life.
Well, two weeks in is a bit soon to be planning a future. That can be a problem for future Mu Qing.
Once the cigarette is burnt out, Feng Xin stands up and holds a hand out for him. “Come on, let’s go back inside. You got some algebra shit to do or whatever it is.”
“Statistics,” Mu Qing grunts, rolling his eyes. He hates statistics. Still, he stands up, flicks the cigarette aside, and lets Feng Xin hold his hand as they walk back inside.
If you’d told Mu Qing from the beginning of the academic year that he’d end up dating that annoyingly hot cishet-coded guy who kept eyeing him up across the gym, he would have laughed in your face.
But maybe he can have good things, and perhaps they really are in it for the long run.