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Yibo has just opened the door to his dressing room when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out and looks at the screen.
“Zhan-ge,” Yibo says in a teasing voice when the video call connects. “So impatient to see me? I said I would call when we broke for lunch.”
But Xiao Zhan isn’t in any mood for their usual banter. “And when were you going to tell me?” he demands.
“Uhh—” Yibo furrows his brow and tries to figure out what Xiao Zhan might be mad about. He’s sure there aren't any new endorsements or projects he doesn't know about yet. And it can’t be Cheng Er’s reveal that they had been biking in Tokyo during a torrential rainstorm because he already caught hell for that. You could have gotten pneumonia, you could have skidded out on the wet pavement and hurt yourself and then been hit by a car!
“Zhan-ge, what—”
“I just watched your Evisu video,” Xiao Zhan bites out, raking a hand through his long bangs as he talks. “What the hell, Yibo, you didn’t tell me that you spun out?”
“Oh that,” Yibo says, breathing out a sigh of relief that it’s not some stupid girl rumor that he has to bat down. “It wasn’t a big deal,” shrugging as he thinks back on the day he’d taken the customized Evisu racecar out for a few laps around the track at Zhuhai. “It happens,” he insists, even though he doesn’t really have any experience racing cars. “I got the car under control quickly, turned it back around, and that was all. I didn’t even leave the track.”
It had been ages since Yibo had the time or opportunity to ride his motorcycles, and he’d missed the thrill and adrenaline of it. So when Evisu had proposed bringing Yibo back to the racing circuit as a racecar driver, he’d accepted without hesitation. Later, as he told Xiao Zhan about the day’s excitement of filming his first time behind the wheel of the racecar, it hadn’t even occurred to him to mention the 180 spin.
“But - but—” Xiao Zhan is spluttering, clearly not buying Yibo’s attempts to downplay what had happened. “You should have told me,” he huffs.
Yibo bites his lip, chastened, and notices that Xiao Zhan is so pissed off, he won’t even look at Yibo, his face turned away from the camera, fingers pulling at the long strands of hair curling over the collar of his shirt.
He opens his mouth, ready to tell Xiao Zhan that he’s being ridiculous, that it simply wasn’t worth mentioning… but when Xiao Zhan turns to glare into his phone screen, there’s a tremor on his lips, a wetness to his eyes that catches Yibo by surprise.
Oh.
“Do you - do you even—” Xiao Zhan is saying, his voice starting to crack with emotion, and Yibo wishes he could reach through the phone to comfort Xiao Zhan, to pull him into his arms.
Yibo thinks back to the last time he’d raced in Zhuhai, just days after Xiao Zhan’s 29th birthday. Xiao Zhan had called then too, but not to scold him. Instead, Xiao Zhan had offered the soothing words and understanding ear Yibo had so desperately needed in the midst of losing his chance at a trophy because another racer had skidded into his motorcycle, disabling it in the final turn of the race.
Xiao Zhan had been his rock then, giving Yibo the strength to keep his cool in the post-race furor over the crash and the suspicions that he was purposefully knocked out of contention. He’d been there to tend to Yibo’s scrapes and bruises, to let Yibo vent his frustrations over a victory denied.
It wasn’t until later that Yibo learned that he wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt. One morning a few days after the crash, Yibo woke to the sound of sniffling, to the feel of Xiao Zhan’s arms holding him close.
He’d turned his aching body around and startled at the sight of Xiao Zhan’s tear-stained face.
“Zhan-ge?” he’d fretted, wincing as he raised a sore arm to wipe away a tear. Xiao Zhan might cry beautifully on film, but Yibo knew he rarely did it in real life.
Xiao Zhan had shaken his head and tried to say it was nothing, but Yibo knew better.
“Ge,” he’d said soothingly, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
“I was so scared, Yibo,” he’d said thickly, his composure hanging by a thread. “So scared. I wanted to be brave for you, but - but—”
“Tell me, ge.”
“When - when I saw you thrown from your bike, tumbling wildly across the pavement,” Xiao Zhan had said, eyes anxiously searching Yibo’s face as if to reassure himself that Yibo was indeed alive and well, “I yelled in terror. I thought - I thought I’d lost you. I had to excuse myself from the rest of the crew and hide in another room to calm down.”
Yibo had felt his heart swell at Xiao Zhan’s tearful confession, hearing just how much Xiao Zhan had been affected by watching Yibo fall. But it also pained him to see the worry on Xiao Zhan's face. “Oh, ge,” he’d said, taking Xiao Zhan’s hands in his. “But I got up right away, you saw that, right?”
“Yes, but still! In that moment, I saw my whole life flash before my eyes.”
Yibo had laughed gently at this. “Your life? I was the one who fell, not you.”
Xiao Zhan had looked seriously back at him, his eyes so sad. “No, I meant my life. When you fell, I had a vision — of how empty my life would have been without you in it.” He’d heaved a deep sigh. “I just - I just—”
And then he’d sobbed in Yibo’s arms.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Yibo had crooned. “I’m okay, I really am.”
“I know how m-much you love r-racing,” Xiao Zhan hicupped, “and I - I don’t w-want you to s-stop doing some-something that makes you so ha-happy. But I - I al-also don’t ever want to be afraid like - like that again.”
Now Xiao Zhan is again looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and Yibo understands.
“I’m okay,” he tells him. “I wasn’t driving the car that fast.”
“Don’t lie,” Xiao Zhan warns, “the speedometer was right there in the video, you know. I could see how fast you were going. I could hear it.”
“I could have gone faster, but I didn’t,” Yibo protests. “I was still feeling out the car, figuring out how it handled. I wasn’t taking any unreasonable risks.”
“But—”
“No really, ge,” Yibo insists. “You know. You know I would not lie to you about this. Remember when I had to do the car stunt for Born to Fly? After the truck had rolled over and over and they pulled me out, I told the crew that it was all fine. You were the only one I told that I’d been scared. So scared that I’d wanted you to come get me, to bring me home. You remember, right?”
“I remember,” Xiao Zhan says quietly, nodding.
“So I wouldn’t lie to you,” Yibo says. “I really was okay. It was a slow skid, I never felt out of control.”
Xiao Zhan side-eyes him skeptically through the phone. “But then why did you hide it from me?”
“Because it really was nothing to worry about!”
“No, no,” Xiao Zhan says. “Even so, you have to tell me about things like this. You can’t leave it to me to find out later, when I watch the video along with everyone else. I almost dropped my phone and I had to leave the room to calm down. Just like last time.”
“Oh ge, I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“I didn’t even like seeing your neck being scratched by your necklace in Happy Camp,” Xiao Zhan says, shaking the phone, “and you thought this wouldn’t upset me?”
Yibo laughs, remembering how it’d been such a minor abrasion, but he’d instinctively sought out Xiao Zhan for comfort, to drink in his anxious attention, not caring if others saw.
“Okay,” he nods, “I’m sorry ge. I promise, I won’t hide things like this from you again.”
Xiao Zhan sighs, relieved. “You better not.”
“Or what?” Yibo asks, letting a playful smirk bloom across his lips.
“Or I’ll—” Xiao Zhan starts, and then he stops, raising one eyebrow at the way Yibo is eagerly leaning into his phone.
“What, ge? What will you do to me? Tell me,” Yibo sing-songs with a grin, then pats a cheek and adds, "Don't be mad. I'll do anything you want."
Xiao Zhan stares for a beat before he breaks into his ridiculous warbly giggle, and the joyful sound of it is music to Yibo’s ears.
“Wang Yibo, you’ll be the death of me yet.”