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20:39
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says into his phone, “I want to get drunk. Come get drunk with me.”
There is silence for a very long time. He can’t even hear Lan Zhan breathing on the other end of the line. Just as Wei Ying is about to hang up and sulk for the rest of the evening, Lan Zhan sighs.
“It is a Tuesday. You have a class tomorrow.”
“Yeah, in the afternoon,” he says. “I’ll be able to function again by then, I promise. Trust me, I know from experience.”
“That worries me.”
“Lan Zhaaan,” he whines, using the sort of tone he only ever uses when he wants something really, really badly. It almost never actually gets him what he wants, but he is trying very hard to be recognised by Lan Zhan as cute, and he thinks he succeeds with this particular tone of his. Usually, when he utilises it with Lan Zhan in person, it makes the other man blush just a little. He likes that it makes him blush.
He sort of hopes he’s blushing right now.
“I will come over,” Lan Zhan says. “But I will not be consuming any alcohol.”
Wei Ying pouts. “Why not? It isn’t fun if I’m drinking alone.”
“Wei Ying, I have a class tomorrow, too. Unlike you, I do not have any experience with coping with hangovers during class.”
“So, I’ll teach you,” Wei Ying tries.
“No.”
He sighs and decides to take what he can get. “Alright, fine. How long will you be?”
“Ten minutes.”
He smiles. “See you soon.”
21:13
“—and then Jiang Cheng got so angry that I could practically see the steam rolling out of his ears, but of course that’s just how he is, so it shouldn’t really have been that big of a deal. Except that this guy genuinely thought he was trying to start something in the middle of this family-friendly café at two-thirty p.m. on a fucking Tuesday, because he was generally just a major douchebag, I guess. I had to literally drag Jiang Cheng out of there before things got a little too heated.”
Lan Zhan stares at him blankly from where he’s seated at the other end of the couch. Despite his obvious disinterest in the tale, he nods every three words and hums every now and then to show that he's listening. It's adorable.
“So, I guess the moral of the story is: don’t let Jiang Cheng choose where to sit at a café.” Wei Ying snickers. “Or maybe it’s: don’t let Jiang Cheng talk to people at cafés.”
“Don’t take Jiang Cheng to cafés,” Lan Zhan offers.
“Hell, probably that too.” He takes a swig of his beer and winces at the bitter taste, before holding the bottle out to Lan Zhan. “You sure you don’t want any?”
Lan Zhan shakes his head, which isn't much of a real answer. Wei Ying smirks.
“You totally want some,” he says, but doesn’t push. He takes another sip, and Lan Zhan doesn’t refute his words.
21:56
Lan Zhan is struggling to keep his eyes open. He has been for about half an hour, in fact. Wei Ying knows that he usually sleeps at around nine p.m., which in his opinion is highly fucking admirable because like hell would he ever have that sort of self-care or responsibility. He also feels just a little bit sorry for Lan Zhan, though. The poor man is missing out on so much nighttime delirium and fuzzy three a.m. introspection.
Still, he feels kind of guilty for keeping him up so late. And on a weeknight, no less.
“Lan Zhan, would you like to sleep?”
He has a perfectly good couch his friend can crash on. Or, even better, he can let him take his bed. That way, the pillow will smell like his coconut and lime shampoo in the morning.
Almost disappointingly, but also not really, Lan Zhan shakes his head. His eyes widen slightly, as if he’s forcing them open.
“You sure?”
“I am fine,” Lan Zhan says. “I am happy to stay awake with you for a few more hours.”
Sure you are, buddy, Wei Ying thinks.
“Well, can I get you something, at least? Snacks? An energy drink?”
Lan Zhan makes a quiet sound that could really mean any number of things, but he doesn’t drag himself to the kitchen nor demand anything. That’s fine. Wei Ying will just let him vibe out where he is until he either asks for what he wants or falls asleep trying.
22:08
“Alright,” Lan Zhan says, sounding defeated. “Get me a bottle.”
Wei Ying chokes, mid-swig. “Of beer?”
“Yes, beer. I need it.”
“Why?” he asks, squinting over at Lan Zhan with suspicion.
“It will help me stay awake,” Lan Zhan says.
As far as Wei Ying knows, alcohol is a depressant. Either Lan Zhan is lying through his teeth, or he really just doesn’t know how alcohol works.
“You’re really sure you want it?”
Lan Zhan grunts and glares hazily at him from across the room. Fine, then. He’ll get him the goddamn beer. Whatever state he wakes up in tomorrow will be his own fault, not Wei Ying’s.
He chugs the rest of his bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before standing, shooting Lan Zhan one last questioning look as he trods towards the kitchen. Lan Zhan watches him silently, still glaring.
He grabs two bottles from the open pack on the kitchen counter and removes the caps. He’s already cleanly finished two bottles by himself, and he’s starting to feel a little warm. Not quite tipsy, yet. But there’s a pleasant buzz in his veins, and as he carries the two bottles back into his living room, he can’t help but giggle a bit.
“What is it?” Lan Zhan asks, making sleepy grabby-hands for one of the bottles. Wei Ying snorts as he passes it over.
“I can’t believe you demanded I get you a beer. Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
“Lan Zhan is dead,” Lan Zhan says, very seriously. “I killed him.”
Then he tips his head back and swallows a mouthful of beer.
22:29
Lan Zhan is sleeping. In hindsight, Wei Ying should have expected this outcome.
He’d managed to drink half of his first bottle before mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, “G’night, sweetheart,” and falling face first onto the ground. Wei Ying has never been more grateful for the fact that this shitty apartment has carpets instead of hardwood. No matter how ugly the floor is, at least it’s somewhat soft.
He sighs and finishes his third bottle of beer. Silence settles over the room like a blanket, except it’s coarse and ugly and scratches Wei Ying’s skin. He wishes he hadn’t given Lan Zhan that beer. He wishes Lan Zhan was still awake.
He starts on his fourth bottle.
22:36
Lan Zhan is no longer sleeping. Wei Ying makes a mental note to be careful what he wishes for in the future.
“Let’s do something fun,” Lan Zhan says, wobbling as he climbs to his feet.
“What’s your drunk definition of fun?” Wei Ying asks dubiously.
“I’m not drunk.”
“I beg to differ.”
Lan Zhan pouts and trips over his own feet. How he manages to achieve this while standing completely still is beyond Wei Ying.
“Let’s play a game,” Lan Zhan finally says. “A fun one.”
Alright, fine. Wei Ying places his bottle down onto the coffee table and stands, then makes a dramatic show of covering his eyes with both hands.
“I’ll count to ten,” he says, slowly so that Lan Zhan might actually understand him in his drunken state. “You’re going to hide somewhere. When I finish counting, I’m going to find you, okay?”
Lan Zhan doesn’t respond.
“Okay, Lan Zhan?”
“I’m nodding,” Lan Zhan says, still standing directly in front of him. Wei Ying sighs.
“Alright, good. I’ll start now. Ten, nine, eight…”
He hears some shuffling and a small thud, followed by a quiet grunt of pain. His voice wavers as he fights back a laugh, but he doesn’t stop counting. The shuffling continues until it stops entirely, just as he reaches zero.
“Ready or not, here I come,” he says, pulling his hands away from his face and blinking his eyes open. He glances around the room, taking stock of the empty couch, the undisturbed dining table and chairs, and the television unit that he doesn’t think even Nie Huaisang could fit behind. Frowning, he makes his way into the kitchen.
There, sitting on the counter with his second bottle of beer in one hand and a shot glass in the other, is Lan Zhan. God only knows where he managed to find the shot glass and why he decided he needed to have it.
“Oh god,” Wei Ying says.
Lan Zhan gasps and drops the shot glass. Thank god it’s plastic, Wei Ying thinks as it bounces a few times on the floor.
“You found me,” Lan Zhan accuses, sounding genuinely upset. “That wasn’t fun.”
“You weren’t even hiding. You took advantage of my temporary blindness to sneak in here and drink more alcohol!”
“Ridiculous,” Lan Zhan says, then chugs the rest of his bottle. He blinks a few times, then giggles quietly. “Wei Ying, you’re so cute.”
Wei Ying will unpack that later. For now, he wrestles the bottle out of Lan Zhan’s hand and drags him back into the living room.
“No more alcohol for you tonight, buddy,” he says.
Lan Zhan gives him a wholly unimpressed look. “Sure,” he says, as if he doesn’t believe a word Wei Ying is saying.
23:27
Okay, so maybe things got a little out of hand.
After the hide-and-seek fiasco, Wei Ying succeeded in keeping Lan Zhan away from the kitchen for a decent twenty-two minutes. He even managed to force an entire glass of water down his friend’s throat, despite Lan Zhan’s spluttering and adamant refusals. Wei Ying had been quite proud of himself after that. It isn’t often he’s required to be responsible, especially on Lan Zhan’s behalf—it felt good to look after him.
Things went downhill as soon as his four-and-a-half beers caught up with him. Or, more accurately, caught up with his bladder. He really, really needed to take a piss.
“I’ll be gone for two minutes, tops,” he’d told Lan Zhan, looming in the doorway threateningly. “If I get back and find you drinking again, there’ll be serious repercussions.”
Lan Zhan had only laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and Wei Ying, like an idiot, had left him there. Alone.
He really had only been gone for two minutes. And what did he find upon his return? Of course, it was Lan Zhan chugging a third bottle of beer.
Wei Ying doesn’t quite think he deserves this. Sure, he might deserve a lot of things. But not this. Never this.
Now, he is sitting on his couch while Lan Zhan makes himself comfortable stretched out on the living room floor, and he is regretting possibly every decision he has made tonight. His fifth bottle of beer is almost empty in his hand. He internally debates over whether he has the stomach for any more.
“What do you think of birds?” Lan Zhan suddenly asks out of nowhere, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answers to life’s greatest secrets. Wei Ying releases a long-suffering sigh before thinking silently for a few moments, genuinely at a loss for something to say.
“Um,” he finally tries, “they’re cute? I guess?”
Lan Zhan hums noncommittally. “Not all birds are cute. Some are pretty vicious. Like vultures.”
“Luckily, we don’t really get vultures in the city,” Wei Ying says.
“Oh, you’re right.”
Neither of them speak for a long while. Wei Ying ultimately decides that yes, he does want another bottle. He stumbles his way into the kitchen, grabs his sixth beer, and returns to the couch feeling bone-tired and full of energy all at once.
“What do you think of dogs?” Lan Zhan asks.
“I’m terrified of them.”
“I know that. But I mean objectively. Like, let’s imagine for a moment that you aren’t afraid of dogs. What do you think of them?”
“Objectively, I think they’re fucking terrifying,” Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan makes a defeated sound. He’s probably pouting again, but Wei Ying refuses to look and be swayed by such an expression.
“Alright, that’s fine. What do you think of cats?”
“How many animals are we going to get through before you fall asleep?” he asks.
Lan Zhan ponders his question for a moment, then says, “I’m not sure. We have all night to find out.”
“Nope,” Wei Ying says. “No way. We’re going to do something else. Right now. Let’s… play another game.”
At this, Lan Zhan’s interest is evidently piqued. He shifts himself onto his side and gazes up at Wei Ying expectantly. If Wei Ying wasn’t currently toeing the line between tipsy and full-blown drunk while also battling with his concern for his friend, he might be a little flustered by the way Lan Zhan is looking at him right now.
“What game?”
He racks his mind for a good (read: safe) game to play. Finally, he claps his hands together as just the thing comes to mind.
“Let’s play Truth or Dare.”
Lan Zhan wrinkles his nose. “What are we, twelve?”
“We were playing hide-and-seek just an hour ago, Lan Zhan.”
“Fair point,” Lan Zhan says, clearly giving in. “Alright, you go first.”
“Truth or dare.”
“Dare.”
He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Oh? Wouldn’t have thought you’d pick that option so soon.”
“I’m not a coward, Wei Ying. Give me your best.”
“Alright. I dare you to not drink any more beer tonight.”
Lan Zhan huffs. “Fine. That’s easy. Your turn.”
Wei Ying should probably be worried that Lan Zhan has given in so easily, but he decides not to focus on that too much. He clears his throat and weighs up all two of his options for a moment, before finally settling on, “Truth.”
“Why did you want to get drunk tonight?” Lan Zhan immediately asks him.
“I was bored and lonely. And bored. And I wanted to see you.”
Lan Zhan nods gravely. “I see. Dare.”
“Someone’s eager. Alright, I dare you to… send your brother a drunk selfie.”
While embarrassing, he knows this is safe. Lan Huan is a cool older brother in all aspects, Wei Ying knows. He’ll likely laugh at Lan Zhan a little, keep the photo saved to his camera roll, and then tease Lan Zhan about it later. Wei Ying also kind of hopes he can somehow persuade Lan Huan to send him the photo at some point. For science, of course.
Lan Zhan obediently takes his phone from his pocket and holds it out in front of his face, staring glumly into the camera. Belatedly, Wei Ying realises that he isn’t actually taking a photo—instead, he’s simply holding the phone in position and apparently waiting for the photo to take itself.
“Would you like some help?” Wei Ying asks, barely concealing his amusement. Lan Zhan, fortunately, doesn’t seem to notice that he’s laughing at him.
“I’m fine,” he says, before very slowly moving his thumb to take a photo. Wei Ying hears the shutter sound and immediately crawls across the floor to see. He takes Lan Zhan’s phone from his hand and navigates to his recent photos, only to feel warmth spreading over his cheeks.
“Lan Zhan! You didn’t even have it on selfie mode, this is a photo of me,” he accuses, making as if to delete the photo. Lan Zhan makes a noise of protest and snatches the phone away. Before Wei Ying can say anything else, Lan Zhan has already snapped a photo of the two of them together and sent it to Lan Huan with the caption: imwit h wei yim g. DRUNK!
“Your turn,” Lan Zhan says, locking his phone with a satisfied smirk.
“Alright. Dare.”
“No.”
Wei Ying snorts. “No?”
“No. You’re meant to choose truth, and I choose dare.”
“That sounds like a very repetitive and predictable game of Truth or Dare, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t respond. Finally, after a few minutes of staring at each other in silence, Wei Ying caves.
“Alright, fine. Truth.”
“Why did you want to see me?” Lan Zhan asks.
“Because you’re my best friend, and I like hanging out with you.”
“Even when I’m drunk?”
Wei Ying chuckles. “Even when you’re drunk. You’re a cute drunk. Fucking chaotic too, but cute.”
He’s pretty sure that Lan Zhan preens at those words. He isn’t quite sure what to make of that reaction, so he files it into his ever-growing collection of Things To Deal With Later.
“Dare,” Lan Zhan says then, once again answering Wei Ying’s question before he even gets the chance to ask it. He laughs.
“You sure are feeling daring tonight, Lan Zhan. Are you hoping I’ll ask you to do something in particular, or—”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying can't say he was really expecting that response. A little dumbstruck, he says, “O-oh. What, um— actually, no, never mind. Uh. Then, I guess…”
Does he choose something random, or does he try to guess what Lan Zhan wants him to ask? What sort of thing could Lan Zhan possibly want to be dared to do? He tries desperately to think of something, but comes up short. In the end, it’s Lan Zhan who breaks the silence with a sigh.
“Never mind. This isn’t fun. What do you think of snakes?”
Wei Ying groans and flops down onto the floor. In a very small, very defeated voice, he says, “I think snakes are cool.”
00:07
“I don’t want to play this anymore.”
“Oh, thank god.”
“Hey, Wei Ying. If you could be anyone in the world for a day, who would you be?”
“Who would I be? I’d be you, Lan Zhan.”
“What would you do if you were me?”
“I’d never drink alcohol, for one. And I’d find something better to talk about than animals.”
“That’s cool. I think I’d be Nie Mingjue for a day, if I could.”
“What? Why?”
“Muscles.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Mn.”
00:46
“Alright, so, like—imagine there are aliens,” Wei Ying says.
It takes a moment for Lan Zhan, who is once again lying spread-eagled on the floor, to reply. Eventually he does mumble a quiet, “I’m imagining it.”
“Good. Now imagine that they are in this room right now. What would you do?”
Lan Zhan heaves himself up onto his elbows and narrows his eyes up at him. Wei Ying watches him from where he’s taken to dangling upside down on the couch, grinning.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” Lan Zhan asks.
“What?”
“Wei Ying,” he says, his voice a little slurred, “are you an alien?”
Wei Ying laughs. “Why do you ask? Because I’m out of this world?”
A pause. Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Because you’re green,” he says.
“What?” Wei Ying asks, frowning, and then Lan Zhan is puking all over his floor.
01:06
The carpet stinks. There is a very large stain right in the centre of the floor. It’s possible that it will never come out. It’s also possible that Wei Ying needs to cut them both off.
He goes into the kitchen to lock away the rest of the beers, except that when he gets there, he finds every bottle empty. He’d bought two packs of beer. Each pack contained six bottles. Tonight, he has consumed seven beers in total. To his knowledge, Lan Zhan should have only consumed three, leaving two unopened bottles remaining. The fact that all twelve bottles are currently empty can only mean one thing: Lan Zhan has consumed a whopping five beers, two of which were likely chugged when Wei Ying was somehow not looking.
“Oh god,” Wei Ying whispers under his breath. “He’s shit-faced.”
There is a very loud, very concerning noise from the direction of his bathroom. He sighs, suddenly feeling a lot more sober, and makes his way over to the door. He knocks on it once. His only answer is a muffled giggle.
“I’m coming in,” he says, before slowly pushing the door open. He’s greeted with the sight of Lan Zhan lying haphazardly in the bathtub, both of his legs dangling over the side as he struggles to twist the cold water tap. Before Wei Ying can even think to stop him, the plumbing shudders to life behind the tiled wall, and freezing water splashes onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder. He winces, then turns the hot water tap to adjust the temperature.
“Need to get clean,” he mutters to himself, sighing when he finally finds a temperature he's apparently satisfied with. “Smell bad. Don’t want to smell bad for Wei Ying.”
“You know you could just brush your teeth, right?” he asks, gesturing to the sink. “You’re very neat when you puke, Lan Zhan. There isn’t a speck on you.”
“Brush my teeth,” Lan Zhan says, seemingly pondering the implications of such a thing. “Hm. That’s a good idea, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying sighs and trudges over to him, turning off both taps. This earns him another one of those pouts, which he determinedly ignores.
“Lan Zhan, you said you wouldn’t drink any more beer tonight.”
Lan Zhan frowns. “Oh. I thought those last two bottles were water,” he says, like a liar.
“Sure you did.”
“Yep. Was drinking water for Wei Ying. Was being good.”
The pride in his voice makes Wei Ying feel a little fond, and he can’t help but reach out and pinch at Lan Zhan’s cheek. “That’s right,” he says softly. “You’re good, Lan Zhan. So good.”
He perches on the edge of the tub to gaze down at the man he’s in love with, drenched and drunk and so, so silly. He smiles big and wide, wondering how he ever got this lucky. To have Lan Zhan as a friend, as someone he can call and have by his side, is the best thing in the world. Even if he is the absolute worst drunk ever.
“Truth,” Lan Zhan mumbles sleepily, letting his head fall back against the wall. It takes a second for Wei Ying to understand what he’s referring to. When it clicks, he huffs a breathy laugh.
“We stopped playing that a long time ago, Lan Zhan. And it wasn’t even my turn to ask.”
Lan Zhan whines and grabs onto his hand, pulling at it so suddenly and with such strength that Wei Ying is powerless against it. He flails and tries to stop himself, but it’s too late. He lands half-atop Lan Zhan, one arm braced against the wall and another still clutched tightly between Lan Zhan's hands.
“Truth,” Lan Zhan repeats. He’s staring at Wei Ying with wide eyes now, so earnest even when he can’t possibly be thinking straight. It makes Wei Ying shiver.
He thinks for a moment more before finally giving in.
“What did you want me to dare you to do earlier?” he asks.
“Kiss you,” Lan Zhan whispers, without an ounce of hesitation. “I wanted you to dare me to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying is rendered speechless for a long time. He opens and closes his mouth, but can’t find the right words to say. Lan Zhan just told him that he wanted to be kissed by him. Possibly, he would still like to be kissed by him. This is a crucial piece of information.
“And you would’ve? Kissed me, I mean.”
Lan Zhan nods. “I would have kissed you, Wei Ying.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to,” he says. “Because you’re lovely.”
They’re both so drunk. Wei Ying can barely keep his eyes open, and Lan Zhan’s breath really does smell atrocious. But in that moment, he doesn't think he’s ever been more in love with his best friend.
“I think you’re lovely too, Lan Zhan,” he says, smiling. “And I will kiss you. Tomorrow, though. We are drunk, and sleepy, and your breath is not nice to be around right now. Will you let me kiss you tomorrow?”
Lan Zhan sighs happily and tugs Wei Ying closer, nestling him into the space under his arm so that his head rests atop his chest. “I will kiss you so much tomorrow, Wei Ying. I’ll let you kiss me, too.”
“That’s good, Lan Zhan.”
“Mn.”
He yawns, suddenly thinking that the bathtub is very comfortable with Lan Zhan in it with him. His bedroom is so far away. This is nice. This is warm. This is slightly wet, but it will do.
“Goodnight, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying mutters, as he finally allows his eyes to flutter closed. He feels Lan Zhan plant a sloppy kiss against the top of his head.
“Goodnight, Wei Ying. Sweet dreams. We’ll kiss tomorrow.”
Yes we will, Wei Ying thinks.
07:32
Jiang Cheng should’ve stayed at Nie Huaisang’s place a little longer. Maybe for the entire week. Definitely until whatever the fuck that smell is disappears from the apartment.
He steps around a suspicious stain in the middle of the living room floor that he’s certain wasn’t there when he left last night, before making his way into the kitchen. There are twelve empty beer bottles on the counter, as well as a wallet that he knows for a fact is Lan Zhan’s. He also knows for a fact that Lan Zhan does not usually stay the night.
Confused, he creeps out into the hallway and along to Wei Ying’s bedroom door. He knocks quietly at first, but when no answer comes, he bangs his entire fist against the wood. It rattles within its frame, but still there is no answer. He’s left with little else to do; he twists the handle and walks inside.
Wei Ying’s bed is empty. Wei Ying is not in the room.
“Don’t be in my room,” Jiang Cheng mutters, turning on his heels and rushing to his own bedroom. “Don’t be in there, or I swear—”
He opens his bedroom door. The bed is empty. Wei Ying is not here, either.
“Huh,” he says. He retraces his steps back to Wei Ying’s room and takes a second, longer look. There definitely isn’t anyone in the bed, nor on the floor. He opens up Wei Ying’s wardrobe. Nothing.
Finally, he steps out into the hallway, feeling more than a little bewildered. Wei Ying should definitely be here, and so should Lan Zhan, unless he left his wallet here accidentally—which is highly unlikely. But where could two grown men possibly be hiding in their tiny apartment if not in one of the bedrooms?
And then it hits him. The one place he hasn’t yet looked: the bathroom.
He isn’t quite sure what he’s expecting to find upon pushing open the door—maybe the two of them brushing their teeth, or Lan Zhan trying to teach Wei Ying how to braid his hair again because they’re both disgustingly in love and use such excuses to be close enough to touch—but whatever he could’ve possibly expected isn’t even in the same league as what he really sees. And what he really sees is this:
Lan Zhan, with his socked feet hanging over the edge of the bath, lying with his arms outstretched as Wei Ying clings onto his damp shirt. The two of them are deep in slumber, mouths agape as loud snores bounce off the tiled walls. They both reek of beer.
It isn’t often that he’s presented with such perfect ammunition for blackmail. Jiang Cheng thinks this is quite possibly the best day of his life. He pulls out his phone, snaps a photo of the two of them piled together in the bathtub like wonky Tetris pieces, and leaves.
Those two can clean up their own messes later.