Work Text:
🎬
Red carpets, magazine shoots, constant interviews. The life of a star was fast-paced, so fast that one might as well be a meteor instead.
When Wen Junhui got into acting at the age of 5, he never anticipated his life would get this busy. Of course, when you're a child, you don't really understand how life can get hectic when you have a career like that. So, he’s warmed himself up in that environment for almost 25 years now, to the point where he’s burning himself from the heatwave that comes with it.
It would be a dream for anyone to travel the globe. Even the homebodies of the world wouldn't mind an all-inclusive trip to a place they'd only seen on the screens of their phones. In most scenarios, it was a blessing to be able to experience all the round corners of the world. Not for Junhui.
Having to travel as much as he did for his career was much less a blessing, and much more a curse. The excitement of it faded out years ago, and it was traded for a more bitter, sour feeling in his fried brain. He just felt numb to it all.
Junhui took the expression “fame isn't for everyone” to heart. Of course, he loved acting — the feeling of conveying emotions that didn't belong to him, but rather a character version of him, was thrilling. He loved evoking emotions in his audiences and fans when they watched him act on the big screen. However, he never anticipated the stardom to be as burdensome as it was.
It was a feat that he even made it this far. He was, at minimum, an A-list actor, and at maximum, whatever was higher than that. People spent thousands just trying to get a glimpse of him at press events or other public sightings (though, certain unwanted “fans” would try to spot him on his own private endeavors, too). He was in the biggest current films, and directors wanted him in their movies more than anyone else. Junhui was a fantastic asset to the movie industry.
As successful as he was, it was wearing him thin. His childhood dreams were more than fulfilled, but his agency insisted he continued to ride the wave of glory until they couldn't squeeze any money out of him anymore.
This trip to Japan wasn't making it any better. Perhaps, it was the final straw to Junhui’s burning out.
He was there to promote his newest movie, Secrets of Stardust, and was scheduled to film interviews and other promotional content for almost 12 hours almost every day. As much as Junhui wanted to explore Tokyo and partake in Japanese culture, he just didn't have the time. Even if he was allotted time in his schedule, he just wanted to rest.
“Junhui? Wake up! The plane just landed!” his manager, Jackson, shook him awake. It was a shame; he was enjoying his nap in his first-class bed.
Junhui slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the light and the shape of Jackson’s face. “Can I not sleep when we get to the hotel?”
“Nope! You’ve got a long day ahead of you, Mr. Wen. You can sleep when we’re done doing shoots.”
He groaned, getting up from his airplane mattress and gathering his things. I need a new manager, he thought, sighing and walking out of the plane surrounded by his bodyguards. It was only 6 AM, and Junhui already wanted the day to be over.
The plan for the day was to drop off his luggage at the hotel, head to a studio for an interview, go to another studio for a different video shoot, have lunch, go to a Vogue Magazine shoot, and lastly get a fitting for his red carpet outfit at the Japan premiere of the movie, before finally relaxing at his temporary home.
It was something Junhui always felt at this point. He couldn't call any place home — it was always changing. Whether it was at a high-end hotel in the heart of New York City, or a quaint bed-and-breakfast in the countryside of Tuscany, there was no place that was just for him. His actual house, back in China, was essentially just for decoration. He was so sure that most of his decor had collected enough dust to fill the East China Sea.
On the way to the hotel, he looked outside the limousine window with curiosity. Though he had been to Japan countless times, there was something about it that interested him every time he went. It actually wasn't the high rise buildings or neon city lights — he saw those everywhere — but the culture, the people. When he observed his surroundings in Tokyo, he wasn't really paying any mind to the structures of the city, but rather the charming little shops and restaurants in tight alleyways where he'd always find the kindest people (and the best food). He wasn't seeking a place where he could see himself all over billboards — he wanted to be in those alleys, around people that didn't even know his name.
“Are we going to our usual hotel?” Junhui asked Jackson, who was sitting up front. Typically, they went to this hotel in the middle of the city that was essentially reserved entirely for celebrities. It was the easiest way to stay away from fans, but it was also pricey.
“No, it was all booked up unfortunately. We found another one though, and it might be even better!”
Junhui couldn't imagine his team could find a hotel even better than what he already had experienced. The amenities in that hotel were like no other — even if he didn't always enjoy his time as a celebrity, Junhui could easily say that staying in that hotel was one of his favorite parts of coming to Japan. A part of him hoped that this new hotel would be a pod hotel (as simple as it was). He had always dreamed of staying in one of those, even though it wasn't really “fancy.”
The ride continued for a few minutes, before they arrived in front of an extremely grand looking building. Definitely not a pod hotel.
“This is where we will stay. I hope it meets your high expectations, Mr. Wen.”
He wasn't sure where the idea that he had high expectations came from, but he was grateful anyways that he even had a place to stay. As they walked in the building, Junhui noted the grand decor, mixing in elements of western and Japanese architecture. It wasn’t unique in the slightest, but it was still a pretty sight.
Junhui’s private suite on the top floor was even more impressive: his bed was massive, the bathroom was the size of two main bedrooms, and there was enough empty space to have 20 people stay over for a sleepover. There was simply no need for him, a singular person, to have a hotel room that big. But he was Wen Junhui. China’s prized actor. According to Jackson — and apparently everyone else — he deserved it.
Though, he didn't feel deserving of it at all.
With the help of his staff, Junhui brought all his luggage into the suite and plopped on the bed to hopefully convince Jackson he needed the rest. Even so, he still had schedules to get to; they couldn't be cancelled the same day.
“Come on, let's go!” Jackson pulled at Junhui’s arm, trying to drag him out of bed. Junhui liked Jackson at certain moments — he reminded him of a pesky older brother, teasing him at any given time. It was easier to like him before Junhui got famous, and now the peskiness just transformed into pure annoyance.
“Can I at least wash up first?” Junhui pleaded, eyes threatening to close on the soft mattress of the California King. “Okay, I’ll give you 20 minutes. Then we really have to go, ‘cause we’re already cutting it close,” Jackson responded, getting up and turning to the entrance of the room. “You wouldn't want to upset your fans, Mr. Wen.”
He then opened the door and left, leaving Junhui to himself in a whirlwind of his own baggage in a hotel room too large for his sole mind to be comfortable with. He’d just have to unpack his emotions later — he had an interview to get to.
Junhui washed up as fast as he could, ignoring all the alarm bells ringing in his head telling him that he needed to slow down. Like Jackson said, he needed to please his fans. Needed to. Not wanted to. It was a requirement.
Exactly 20 minutes later, Junhui was out the door, an anxious Jackson by his side. What Junhui didn't know is that part of the reason Jackson wanted him out so quickly was because of the amount of paparazzi that found their way into the building, invading his privacy. Though all press is good press, finding Junhui’s place of stay was simply too much for both him and his team.
Junhui, surrounded by bodyguards, was able to escape the swarm of flashing lights and camera shutters all around him. However, someone caught his eye in the midst of it all.
A man, tall and slim, with facial features that were sharp yet smooth. He walked with a certain elegance only certain people could achieve. Wearing dark clothes — clearly high-end — he narrowly weaved his way through the crowd as well, swiftly avoiding the invasive paparazzi and making it outside the hotel.
Junhui, for his own safety, looked away for a second so he could escape as well. He turned back to get another look at the pretty man once he was outside, and he completely vanished.
Whoever he was, he was breathtaking. He had never felt so captivated by a person before. He wondered if that was how his audiences felt when they saw him appear on the screen.
It seemed that he was a celebrity too, since the paparazzi had cameras on him too. Junhui didn't get a good look at his face though — there was a good chance that Junhui probably knew him, but he wasn't able to fact check that.
Once he and his guards stepped into their black limo van, Junhui could finally relax and process everything that had just happened within the span of a few minutes. He thought he had gotten used to the quick, erratic, whiplashed film industry by now. Whatever all that was — the intense press presence, alongside the presence of a man who had unusually stolen his attention — threw Junhui for a massive loop.
📸
Minghao expected this to be just another normal runway experience.
Being a model, he was used to all the cameras on him. They all wanted to capture his face, his body, his undeniable beauty. It was part of his job to sell his looks to a lens, which is why he was surprised when he felt absolutely bombarded coming to Japan.
He was here for a really important fashion show, one that he couldn’t miss. Of course, he would never want to miss a show — he was a workaholic — so here he was, in an unfamiliar country, surrounded by what is possibly the worst paparazzi he’s ever encountered.
Though, that is to say that he hasn’t actually encountered that many paparazzi. He was famous, but hadn’t been abroad all that much within the past eight years of his career. He was China’s prince, the 8th wonder of the world, but he was gatekept from the rest of the world to see. He wanted to travel, he just wasn’t sure when he would get the opportunities.
The people with their large, flashy cameras practically trampled Minghao to get close-ups of his face. These were photographers that came from all across the globe to get a glimpse at Minghao, who was apparently more famous than he let on. It was tormenting, and it was only his first day in Japan.
His manager booked him this incredibly luxurious hotel that many other celebrities were staying at. There were people he knew very well — close friends of his, even — and people that he had never met before, people that he looked up to in the model and film industries. Somehow, a film festival and Tokyo Fashion Week were scheduled for the same week, leading to an extreme abundance of globally well-known individuals walking around the streets of Tokyo all at the same time.
Minghao was going to take the first few hours of the day to explore the city. He, naturally, wanted to go to Harajuku first. So, with some pleading, he convinced his manager to let him wander around in that part of the city for a few hours before he had to prepare for the show.
Unbeknownst to him, the paparazzi were practically camping outside his hotel. It was, for a lack of better words, a shitshow.
He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring all the flashes and walking as fast as he possibly could. He didn’t want to ruin his nice Louis Vuitton suit that was tailored perfectly to his body, but in the moment, he cared a bit more about his safety than having unruly photographers prod at his expensive outerwear.
Somehow, he made it to his black van that was waiting outside for him. There was another one there, and he nearly walked into that one, but he realized it was for someone else. The large crowd wasn’t just for him — it was also for an utterly stunning man, one that Minghao had never seen before. If he was another model, Minghao likely would’ve known him, which meant he was probably an actor. Even so, his face was so intriguing, a face sculpted by gods. If he walked into a model studio, they would definitely hire him on the spot.
Minghao didn’t have much time to think about the stunning man, as he went into his car and was driven off. He was used to seeing people with gorgeous faces and unique features — again, it was his job — but this man, he was different.
He let his fleeting thoughts leave his mind and just focused on getting to Harajuku, where he could go shopping and meet up with many acclaimed fashion designers that he had only anticipated seeing in his dreams. Time felt like it was moving faster here in the city — it was like nothing Minghao had ever experienced before. It could’ve been because he was incredibly excited, but maybe Tokyo was truly as magical as people made it out to be.
The cherry blossom trees in the areas not covered by towering buildings were shedding their leaves, leaving arrays of pink leaves fluttering around in the streets. It was a nice reminder to Minghao of his home — a similarity between Japan and China that could bring him some comfort. After all, he was still somewhere away from home. At least it wasn't that far.
Arriving in Harajuku, he was able to shop at all the stores he wanted to visit, explore different styles of fashion, and meet all sorts of fashion enthusiasts just like himself. Of course, he had limited time to do so, as he needed to prepare for the fashion show rehearsal later. Even so, the time he had there was remarkable.
Being in a bustling city like this made Minghao’s heart flutter. In some capacity, he actually felt like nobody would recognize him — not only because he was solely confined to China for most of his career, but also because of the amount of people walking on the streets. It was a cool Saturday, the sky overcast, so naturally many city dwellers would be out-and-about. Just the mere opportunity of being in a place like this was enough for Minghao, completely erasing the negative energy from a few hours prior. Being able to feel like a normal person again, without the intensity of a job as a model. It was refreshing.
It started to drizzle a bit, and hundreds of umbrellas had made their way up towards the sky. Minghao knew he had to leave — he couldn’t get his hair wet, or his stylists would have to re-straighten it to avoid frizz — but he didn’t want to. He felt so drawn to the neon signs, the massive billboards, the gigantic Laforet Harajuku mall that he spent hours in. He hoped he could visit Shibuya again soon, at least once more before his trip was over.
Minghao’s stomach growled. He hadn’t realized, but he was hungry. As soon as he stepped foot into his black limo van, he knew he needed something to eat. It was late afternoon, after all, and he hadn’t had anything to eat since the morning. Luckily, his manager knew of a good, quiet spot to have a nice meal.
“How long will it take to get there?” Minghao asked, hand over his stomach. He was used to not eating a lot, especially on fashion show days, but it was much worse because he had been walking around for hours on end.
“Just a few more minutes, Minghao. It’s a really neat place, I promise you’ll love it,” replied his manager, Ziqing, coolly. He had known Minghao for years, so he was calm and collected when it came to directing him. At first, he was intimidated by Minghao’s presence, worried that he wouldn’t be able to manage him correctly. After only a few months of knowing each other, all his worries vanished — Minghao was nothing but a kind, gentle soul, and was used to just going wherever life took him. After that, it became a breeze for him to do his job, looking after Minghao.
The model looked out the window, watching the raindrops run on the glass. “What kind of food is it?”
“Comfort food. Ramen, udon, katsudon, tempura, and I think they do have sushi as well. Have you ever tried any of that?”
Minghao shook his head. “I’ve only had ramen.”
“You’re missing out on so much! This is why I’m taking you out here, Hao,” Ziqing gasped, baffled.
“You’re making it sound like this is the only restaurant in Japan with this kind of food,” Minghao teased.
“It’s just my favorite place!”
The two laughed, pulling over into a parking spot on the side of the street. It was a quieter part of the city, though not far from the hotel. Ziqing led the other man out of the car and into a nearby alley, lined with all sorts of string lights and lanterns. It was clearly a place more for nightlife than anything, but some restaurants and little shops were still open for business.
A few moments later, they walked into a small restaurant with only a bar counter and a couple small tables to sit at. It was almost completely full.
There were a couple people working behind the bar, serving food for the patrons. A few paintings and pictures lined the walls, and a small bonsai tree was in a pot on the counter. Minghao noted one particular award placed near the open entrance — a Michelin star.
Minghao wasn't usually the type to judge a book by its cover, but this little unassuming establishment was not on his list of restaurants he’d expect to have a Michelin star. Still, Ziqing led him to a chair at the bar, the man excited to just get a bite of whatever food he could get his hands on first.
There was a slight language barrier between the employee and Ziqing, but she recognized him in an instant and offered to get him a bowl of udon.
Minghao, in his best Japanese (he had practiced for a month before the trip), asked for some tempura. The lady smiled and praised his language skills, leaving them to go prepare their orders. “So… how often do you come here?” Minghao asked Ziqing, wondering how the woman recognized him so easily.
“I last came here a year ago. I honestly don’t know how she remembered me.”
Though it was a bit unexpected, it was a gentle reminder that no matter where Minghao was, he was safe with the knowledge that people will always be people. It was a small gesture, but a warm welcome to a brand new place that he was fortunate enough to experience. The two chatted with each other for a fraction of a moment longer, before the waitress came back with their meals.
Any sentimental thoughts Minghao was having about the trip suddenly flew out the window when he saw his food.
The men dug in, grateful for their meals after a long day of practically eating nothing. Minghao smiled, enjoying new and unfamiliar flavors that he wouldn’t have imagined beforehand. He wished that his family back in Hai Cheng could have tasted them too.
After they ate, they paid for the food and left a hefty tip as well for the amazing service. Even though tipping culture was only really a thing in the US, Minghao couldn't help but leave some extra cash because of how happy he was with his experience thus far.
Now that he had eaten, it was time for him to head to the venue for the show. Luckily, it wasn't far. Still, he took every chance he could get to absorb the Shibuya atmosphere before he had to go back to the only place he had ever truly known.
Before getting into the car, he noticed a small crowd of people surrounding one particular man. There were cameras, microphones, and a bunch of crew members (and maybe a few fans there too). Minghao paused for a moment, taking in the view from across the street.
It was the same man from earlier — the same alluring face, captivating eyes. He looked directly into those eyes, and for a split second, felt like the city around him didn't even matter anymore. His curiosity for this other celebrity had piqued his interest, much like how the neon lights and massive billboards were just a few hours prior.
After a few moments of being in a staring contest with the stranger, he looked away and continued on with whatever he was filming across the way. Minghao snapped out of whatever spell he thought he was under and went into his private limo, mentally preparing himself for the runway rehearsal he’d be doing in just a few short hours.
Before he could discard any thoughts he was having about the mysterious fellow celebrity, he had a strange gut feeling that it wasn't going to be the last time he saw that man lingering around the streets of Tokyo alongside him. It wasn't an unsettling feeling, nor did he feel that the man was a threat to him. It was oddly… comforting.
🎬
During a shoot for a promotional video for Junhui’s new movie, he didn't expect to see that handsome man from his hotel once again.
It was from a distance — across a busy street in the heart of the Shibuya area — but Junhui knew it was him in an instant. They exchanged glances for a moment, but it fell apart rather quickly as Junhui was engaged in his task of walking to a department store, where he’d try on different variations of Japanese streetwear to appeal to audiences and encourage them to go watch Secrets of Stardust.
Junhui usually kept it light and casual with the way he dressed. Neutral and muted colors, simple layering, and usually an element of comfort in there as well. When he traveled, especially abroad, he didn't want to be in something all day that would hinder his ability to move or feel comfortable. So, when he was told he’d have this opportunity to try something new with his style, he almost declined. That was, until he thought of his fans first, like the selfless man he was, and agreed to do it.
Which is why, right now, he’s being put in head-to-toe lolita fashion.
Not necessarily a dress or a skirt — that wasn't something he fancied — but something that embodied lolita culture as a whole. Tons of layers, a load of different colors, and a certain bit of discomfort that wasn't normal to Junhui. Everything about it was so awful to him, but he knew that it would be funny and interesting to others, so he played along for the video.
He walked into a store in the Laforet Harajuku mall — Angelic Pretty, known for its cute and sweet lolita fashion. The store was pink all over, from the walls to the floor. It almost completely overstimulated Junhui.
Angelic Pretty didn’t have any men’s clothing, and though he wasn’t insecure about his own masculinity — he had worn more stereotypically “feminine” clothing before, for movies and modeling gigs — he wasn’t about to put on a frilly, poofy dress. So, instead, the guide had placed a bunch of accessories on him.
“You look so kawaii,” his interviewer expressed happily. Everyone around him giggled, raving about the giant bow on Junhui’s head or the pink laced wrist cuffs he was wearing. He felt extremely humiliated by it all, but thankfully, he wouldn’t be on this press tour for very much longer. Just a couple more weeks.
“Thank you,” he smiled, giving the camera a good look of everything that he was wearing. The interview was almost over, and he could finally get some lunch. He had been craving food from his hometown for a while, but some shoyu ramen and steamed rice from a local shop would suffice too.
After another 30 minutes of shooting, the interview escapade came to an end. It took all of Junhui’s willpower not to completely crash as soon as he entered his private limo, especially since he still had a few schedules left until his day was fully complete.
He paid no mind to wherever his manager and driver were taking him for food. None of it mattered to him, he just needed to get by before reaching the finish line at the end of the day. Suddenly, his massive California King didn’t seem so unappealing or unnecessary, daydreaming about the luxury silk sheets and soft bedspread surrounding his body. He could see the Tokyo metropolitan area through his eyes, but he saw past it now. The lights and the skyscrapers were only surface level — beneath it all, it was mundane just like anything else. The light barely shimmered in Junhui’s eyes anymore.
After stopping in front of a small restaurant and ordering some quick, easy food, Junhui and his team rushed over to the Vogue Japan photoshoot location, where he would be modeling and taking pictures for a few hours. He had a total of four outfit changes, and would need to spend a maximum of 30 minutes with each outfit so he would be able to make it to his Louis Vuitton fitting afterwards.
Junhui and his team went into the building, where they were directed to go to the 2nd floor for the shoot. Surprisingly enough, Junhui hadn’t been there before, generating some curiosity in his mind for the second time on this trip.
He was dressed in full Louis Vuitton, something he was much more comfortable wearing than whatever he wore earlier for his interview. He had only recently become an ambassador for the brand, and it excited him because it was such a grand opportunity for him. However, it also meant he had to wear it constantly, which became a bit annoying when he wanted to go outside in more casual clothes but couldn’t.
The outfits he was given to wear for the photoshoot were all angular, almost abstract, pieces of clothing. They complimented his face well, which was also rather sharp — save for his long but rounded nose, delivering a contrast that made him an absolutely striking individual. He knew as soon as he saw the photos that his fans would go nuts.
“These are perfect,” said one of the photographers, stunned at how well the photos turned out even without any editing. “I think we’re done here!”
“Not even any retakes or extra shots?” Junhui asked, excited but confused; he thought the shoot would last a lot longer, but it had only been two hours.
“No, we’re finished right on time Mr. Wen!”
It went by at such a rapid pace that Junhui lost track of time. He couldn’t tell whether he was just really enjoying the shoot, or if he had completely dissociated the entire time and forgot it was scheduled to last two hours on the dot.
He had thanked everyone on Vogue’s photography team and left promptly, heading straight for the venue where his designers were at. There would be a fashion show tomorrow, so a majority of the Louis Vuitton designers and tailors were there to prepare their own models for their outfits.
Junhui felt more alert now, watching the city move past him with focused eyes. It could be because he had a cup of steaming hot coffee from the Vogue lobby right before he left, or perhaps it was a newfound excitement that gave him a second wind for the day. Once he had his fitting, he could finally rest at that temporary home of his, mentally preparing himself for yet another day.
Moments later, his thoughts were interrupted by none other than his manager Jackson. “Something on your mind, Mr. Wen?”
Junhui slowly turned from the window, looking at the man in the front passenger seat. “You know, you can call me Junhui. Or Jun.”
“Okay, Junhui,” he corrected, “what’s up with you today?”
“Nothing, I’m just…” Junhui didn’t know if he wanted to tell the truth. Jackson just wouldn’t understand. “I’m just admiring the city around me, that’s all.”
“Okay good. One final schedule for today and then you can relax,” his manager replied, “because I know that’s what you truly want. And I really wish you could have more rest.”
Junhui turned back to face the window, ending the conversation there. In Junhui’s pile of feelings, stuffed deeply in his messy emotional baggage, he felt a touch of anger towards Jackson. If he felt so bad about me not getting rest, why couldn’t he just free up my schedule a bit?
There was always a part of Junhui that resented Jackson for how much he had overworked him. Though, an even smaller part of him, deep down inside, knew that it had been himself all along that pushed himself to his limits. It was for that reason that Junhui held the same resentment for Tokyo, only seeing it as a workplace and nothing more. There was no happiness there — to him, it just seemed like a façade, similar to the one that he put up every single day just to get by.
A few moments later, he arrived at the venue, ready to take on his fitting for the Japan movie premiere in three days. He was excited for the premiere, simply because he loved his craft more than anything. At least, he had thought.
Walking into the grand building, he noticed many models walking around with their runway outfits on, preparing for their rehearsal soon. While his manager asked a worker where the private rooms were, Junhui spotted a familiar face almost instantly. Out of all the models with their symmetrical faces, tall statures, and extravagant outfits, he stood out immediately.
He was walking by, going to the nearby vending machine in the lobby. The man also saw Junhui enter, sending a small smile his way before putting his card in the machine and buying a soda. Junhui felt blood rush to his face in a way it never did before. He was gorgeous, and at this point, he needed to know his name.
Before Junhui could walk over to the mysterious man with the most gentle smile, Jackson called him over so they could get to his fitting on time. He walked away from the lobby, turning around one last time to look at the model. Instead, he disappeared, crushing Junhui’s already beaten up heart just a little more. He felt drawn to this man; a feeling of newness in this repetitive, exhausting world. It was a shame he couldn’t get a second glance at him at that moment.
At last, Junhui made it to the room where he would be fitted for his red carpet outfit. He already knew what he was wearing — a custom-made black suit embellished with diamonds in the shape of sparkles — but the tailors were just checking to see if it needed to be adjusted.
“Hello Mr. Wen Junhui! How has Japan been so far?” one of the tailors asked, handing him the clothes to change into when the conversation was over.
“It’s been alright. I’ve seen some pretty cool things so far,” he replied, his mind still lingering on the man he’s now seen three times within one day.
“Good! Well, go try on the suit now. There’s a bathroom here that you can change in.”
When he was changing in the bathroom, a thought consumed him. He almost tripped and fell on the pants he was putting on because he was so exhilarated, spacing out in deep thought about the man he had hoped to see again.
It was the fact that he was a model for the same brand that Junhui was an ambassador for that really spun him around. It did wonders for his brain, giving him what he felt was the greatest idea of this whole trip — to watch the fashion show the next night, in hopes that he could finally find out who this beautiful man was.
He was a fantastic distraction for Junhui, making him feel like he’s trapped in a game of Where’s Waldo every moment that went by.
Eventually, Junhui got the stunning suit on, and it fit exactly how it needed to. It accentuated his waist and his endlessly long legs, without any alterations needed. “You look so good, dude!” Jackson exclaimed, hyping him up as he looked at himself in the full size mirror.
“Thanks,” replied Junhui, “I feel good.”
At last, Junhui had genuinely smiled. Though he still desperately wanted to go home and relax, he felt confident in himself and confident in the idea that he could reach out to the model who has done nothing but invade his unkept mind.
📸
In just a few short hours, it was showtime for Minghao.
He and a few of his model friends decided to go out for a little bit before they had to hit the venue to prepare for the show. Being able to go eat and let loose with people he was close to only made his stay in Japan even better than it already was.
Even when he was out, though, he kept his eyes peeled for a particular sight — one that he had seen quite a few times already. Someone that he felt like he was playing hide-and-seek with throughout the streets of Shibuya.
After they bumped into each other at the venue the previous day, Minghao felt peculiar about whoever that man was. It was strange that he felt like he was being followed, almost preyed on like a hawk. Yet, he felt protected, as if he should seek out that man rather than run from him; which is why Minghao smiled so kindly to him, just to get a little reaction from him.
Nothing like this had ever happened to Minghao before. He secretly hoped that his managers would send him out of his comfort zone more, so he could experience such a thrilling rendezvous once again. Even more secretly, he wanted to get closer to the attractive man. He felt like he was stuck in a claw machine, grabbed again and again but dropped before he could make it out.
The little sightings of him made Minghao go mad, and it was noticeable to his friends around him.
“Hao, what are you looking for?” asked his taller friend Mingyu. A lot of the models came from across the globe and not just China, so whenever they spoke to each other, it was easiest to speak in English.
“Yeah, you’re a bit out of it,” continued Joshua, “I thought you were enjoying it here?”
As they were walking on the sidewalk, past all the little shops and restaurants, Minghao took his time to come up with a response. “I’m just observing everything. Taking it all in, y’know? I mean, when is the next time we’re ever going to be here?”
Joshua made a little noise of agreement, deciding that what Minghao said made sense and just continued walking. Meanwhile, Mingyu wasn’t giving up.
“Are you sure it’s not that guy you saw?” he smiled, knowing it would get something out of the shorter man.
“This isn’t about him! I just think he’s pretty,” Minghao lied, knowing damn well it was about that guy he saw. Minghao told them about him because he couldn’t help but contain himself when it came to the mystery celebrity. He even hoped that one of them would know something about him, but neither had any information to provide.
As if it was perfect timing, he saw the man’s face across the street, lit up from the sunlight casting down on him. Minghao almost stopped in his tracks when he looked back at him, their eye contact only lasting a few seconds before a bus had got in the way.
The moment was perfect, and Minghao wanted to ask his two friends if they wanted to come talk to the guy with him, until the bus drove by and the man was gone.
He fully disappeared into the crowd, and all Minghao felt was hopelessness once again. “God damn it!”
Both Mingyu and Joshua turned to Minghao, confused looks on their faces. “Is something wrong?” asked the latter, worriedly.
“It’s nothing, let’s just keep going,” Minghao shook his head, ignoring whatever just happened and looking up. It was beginning to get frustrating that he kept seeing him and yet still didn’t have his name. He hadn’t even been close enough to him to start a conversation, and it made him so upset that tears began to form in his eyes.
Minghao knew that during this trip, he wanted to try new things. He just didn’t realize that a person is what he’d be yearning for the most.
Hours later, the three of them were getting their makeup done together. The fashion show was starting in roughly an hour, and they had no time to waste.
While they got ready, though, Mingyu was always one to strike up a conversation.
“What was all that about earlier today, Minghao?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” said Minghao, face turning sour.
“I’m sure you’ll see him again,” Joshua chimed in, knowing that this was about the guy.
Minghao turned to face Joshua — at least, as much as he could while foundation was being put on his face. “How did you know I saw him?”
Joshua chuckled, doing that little mischievous eye smile he always does. “I saw him too. It felt straight out of a movie, to be honest.”
“Isn’t he in a movie?” questioned Mingyu.
“I don’t know, but he sure is handsome,” finished Joshua, focusing back on his phone while the makeup artist touched up his face.
It was unfortunate that his stay in Tokyo wouldn’t be for much longer. Tomorrow was his last day, and he wanted nothing more than to stay and explore everything the city had to offer. Maybe he’d even get his last chance to talk to the man he shared a hotel with, though his mind was drastically overthinking and telling him that he’d never see him again.
It was those thoughts that pushed him to do his very best that night, lining up with all the other models to go down the intricate runway. His outfit was sleek and monochromatic, his slender body a perfect match for what he wore. It was no wonder at all that he was a model — he was the ideal walking mannequin for LV.
Somehow, he had a feeling that the man could see him there, strutting down the runway. The audience was full of famous celebrities, so it was entirely possible for him to be there; Minghao couldn’t focus on that, though. His career, at the moment, came first.
Once it was all over, Minghao left the venue with haste and had his driver bring him back to the hotel. It was a long day and he desperately needed to wipe all his makeup off.
He was already in comfier clothes because his modeling clothes needed to be given back to the designers right after the show, so all he needed was a shower and to do his nighttime skincare routine before hitting the hay.
As soon as he walked into his hotel room, he looked at his phone to look at his notifications for the day. There’s always notifications from Instagram, but one in particular almost made him drop his phone.
It was a follow from user @junhui_moon, an incredibly famous Chinese actor who Minghao had only heard wonders about. He didn’t have enough time to go watch movies, but he knew plenty about the marvelous Wen Junhui.
Within those moments, he took another glimpse at Junhui’s profile and realized he was the man he had been searching for all along. Minghao almost felt his heart go into shock.
Junhui had found yet another way to sneak into Minghao’s life, and he was more than happy about it. He instantly followed him back, nearly jumping for joy that they were now at least on a name basis.
Minghao didn’t exactly know how Junhui had found him, but he was overjoyed nonetheless. He wanted to at least DM him to thank him, but he felt so nervous that he couldn’t even press the “Message” button. Instead, he just jumped in the shower, ran through every single possibility of seeing Junhui again in his head, and continued the rest of his night in absolute bliss as he became delusional over his blooming crush on the actor.
It seemed that he forgot that he only had one more night of being in Japan, and he didn’t have much more time before going back home — where he may never see Junhui again.
🎬
Junhui felt like Sherlock Holmes after he figured out Minghao’s name.
He decided to watch the show live on Youtube, waiting for what felt like forever for the tall model to show up on the screen. He realized quickly that the show wasn’t revealing the names of the models, so he moved to the live comments to see if anyone mentioned him.
Sure enough, he saw the man walk confidently across the screen, recognizing him within an instant. He scanned the incoming comments to see if anyone said his name, and it became flooded with tons of “Minghao!!!” “XU MINGHAO WE LOVE YOU” and “minghao is so GORGEOUSSSS” comments. It was then that Junhui knew who he was looking for.
He headed straight to Instagram to search for Minghao, and his username popped up within split seconds of typing. Tapping on @xuminghao_o, he scrolled through countless posts of Minghao modeling for various brands, with Louis Vuitton being the most prominent. Junhui couldn’t help but follow him.
At this point, Minghao wasn’t as out of reach as Junhui anticipated. Junhui sighed out of relief, knowing that the person that made his trip 100 times more worth it was only a message away. But he didn’t want to message him; he wanted to talk in person. He knew it was weird — potentially creepy — to be this desperate to get to know someone you’ve only seen from far away, but he didn’t care one bit. If there was anything he was truly drawn to in the city, it was Minghao.
He put down his phone, ready to sleep. He had nothing planned for tomorrow — Jackson gave him this one day off — so he’d make his move in the morning. For now, he’d enjoy his rest, feeling nothing but warmth in his heart for the first time in a good while.
Waking up, he immediately checked his phone to see if Minghao followed back.
“No way. He actually did it,” Junhui rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He put his face in his soft pillow and quietly screamed, not wanting to get out of bed but feeling ecstatic for what the day had in store for him.
What Junhui thought would be a lousy, exhausting work trip, turned into moments of euphoria across the few days that he had been there. He wanted more; he didn’t want it to end. Too long did he suffer in repetitive trips that only tired him more — this one was unique, having feelings for a man he had never talked to all because he kept seeing him everywhere, as if they were intentionally being drawn together by the universe. Minghao was a breath of fresh air for him.
Junhui left his bed, scrambling to get some clothes on without even focusing on making his bed or tidying up his mess of a suitcase. A sudden burst of energy was propelling him to move faster than usual when getting ready, a little too enthusiastic to go downstairs just for some breakfast.
He left the room in just a few minutes, knowing that Jackson was likely already downstairs because he was an early riser.
After going down the elevator and walking briskly to the lobby, he saw him sitting down and eating the hotel breakfast at a table by the window.
The man, the myth, the legend. Xu Minghao.
Before he had the opportunity to walk over to him, he was interrupted yet again by Jackson.
“You’re up early,” commented Jackson, bringing Junhui over to the breakfast setup. There were pancakes, eggs, bacon, waffles, cereals, french toast, a few charcuterie boards, toast, and essentially every fruit one could think of, all in a large display.
“Just felt like extending my rest day a little bit. I want to make the most of it,” Junhui replied, glancing once more at Minghao and smiling to himself.
“Good, I’m glad you feel okay. You’ve been so off lately and it’s worrying me. Let’s get you some breakfast, now,” Jackson said warmly.
Once they grabbed a bunch of food, Junhui knew what he had to do. It had been lingering on his mind for what felt like forever, and though he was tired of engaging with new people this entire press tour, all he wanted to do was talk to Minghao. Finally.
“Where are you going?” Jackson asked, attempting to drag him away to another table. It wasn’t that Jackson wanted Junhui to be antisocial, but sitting at a table with an assumed total stranger as a celebrity was a big security risk.
Junhui denied replying, abandoning his manager to go over to Minghao. It felt like he was about to reunite with someone he had once known a long time ago, except it was the first time he had ever spoken to this man in his life.
Before Junhui could get any words out, Minghao spoke first. “Hi, Junhui.”
The former let out a deep breath that he wasn’t even aware he was holding; a sigh of relief and hope. “Hi, Minghao.”
Minghao gestured for Junhui to sit down at his table, smiling calmly as if he wasn’t internally bouncing off the walls. “It’s really nice to finally talk to you. It feels like all I’ve seen around here is you.”
What made Junhui’s heart swell even more is that Minghao spoke in Mandarin. Junhui could finally speak freely in his native tongue, without it being solely reserved for his overbearing manager. Being with Minghao already felt so much like home to him.
“I saw you walk at the Louis Vuitton show last night. You were,” Junhui paused, trying to get his thoughts straight, “amazing. To say the least.” He couldn’t help but blush a little — the nervousness of talking to the model was getting to him, but in a good way.
To Junhui’s surprise, Minghao was a bit shy as well. His tiny giggles in response to Junhui’s compliment completely erased Junhui’s anxiety, feeling as though Minghao’s laughter was contagious.
“You’re too kind,” Minghao looked away, smiling as he fiddled with the rings on his hands.
There was a brief moment of silence before Minghao continued.
“I can’t believe I’m talking to the Wen Junhui right now. You look even more, um,” he cleared his throat, “handsome, in person.”
“And I can’t believe I’m finally talking to the Xu Minghao. I could say the same about you.”
“What do we even talk about?”
“Good question,” Junhui posed, as if deep in thought. It made Minghao giggle again, and Junhui would do an infinite number of stupid poses if it meant he could keep hearing Minghao’s laughter.
“Actually, I did have something to ask you,” said Minghao, taking a sip of his orange juice on the table before continuing. “Do you… wanna go out for lunch?”
Junhui internally thanked Jackson for giving him the day off. “I would love to.”
“Great, because I know a good place where we could go.”
📸
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Junhui asked, sipping on his last bit of water before throwing the bottle into the recycling bin.
The two of them continued to talk after finishing their breakfast together, with both of their managers gone. They sat in the lobby, not wanting to leave each other’s sights after appearing and disappearing countless times.
“There’s no harm in living a little, Junnie,” answered Minghao, already having a nickname for the older man. “You seem like you need to have a little thrill on this trip, anyways.”
“Okay, just let me call my manager.”
Minghao brought up the idea of going out to eat — which was totally fine — but he also insisted on taking a walk to get there. The restaurant was about 15 minutes away — which was also totally fine — but the risk of paparazzi or weird fans finding them and stalking them was incredibly high. Junhui got the sense that Minghao wasn’t aware of just how famous he really was.
Not that Minghao wasn’t aware of his own fame either — he knew it was a risk, but after hearing Junhui talk about how exhausted he had been with all his schedules, and that he had been beyond bored during his time in Tokyo, he decided he was going to spice things up a bit for him.
Having Junhui by his side made Minghao feel more grounded, though. He was a person who was spontaneous, enjoying life as he went with the flow. Junhui’s caution and Minghao’s unconstraint worked in perfect harmony; two very different people from two completely different parts of China, yet they found each other so easily in an oddly specific area of Japan.
After a few minutes of being on the phone, Junhui came back and informed Minghao that it would be okay, as long as their bodyguards followed behind as well.
“Come on, you deserve to have some fun. Sitting in this hotel all day won’t do you any good,” Minghao pleaded, grabbing Junhui’s hands and looking directly into his eyes. “And besides, the sunlight looks good on you.”
“How would you know that?”
“You’re forgetting I’ve seen you numerous times out on the streets, Junhui.”
At that, Junhui couldn’t help but grin. He let Minghao drag him out of the building once their bodyguards met them down in the lobby, and Minghao led him down a familiar street that they had both been down plenty of times.
It was there that Minghao noticed Junhui looking around, not focused on what was ahead of him. He moved slowly, and almost carelessly bumped into a few lamp posts or even other people walking by.
“Finally taking it all in?” Minghao asked, staring directly at Junhui’s face. He had already seen all that was around him, so he was taking in the view (as if Junhui’s face was a monument).
Junhui continued to look up at the skyscrapers and the large screen billboards plastered all over them, this time in complete awe. “Yeah, I am.”
The shorter man smiled widely, excited to see Junhui in this state. He already looked much less tired, and for not knowing Junhui for that long, Minghao noticed this.
Their walk to the restaurant was much more peaceful than both of them had anticipated. The sky was a perfect clear blue, and they walked without being harassed by any fans at all. It could have been because they had security close by, or because they covered their faces with masks to hide themselves. Whatever the reason was, it was a beautiful day for a walk outside.
Few words were spoken between them in that short time. They focused on the scenery and the impeccable weather conditions that surely neither of them would forget in their lifetimes. Perhaps what made this day so much better was them walking together, without the fear of losing each other to conflicting schedules any longer.
The walk to the restaurant was quicker than they had both assumed, time flying by as they connected to the city of Tokyo in a way they hadn’t before.
“It’s right around this corner,” Minghao directed, grabbing Junhui’s hand and bringing him down an intimate alleyway.
They walked a few beats more until they were in front of a small restaurant with a bar counter and a couple tables to sit at. It was the place Minghao’s manager took him to on his first full day in Japan, and he couldn’t help but share that experience with Junhui as well.
He brought the taller man right up to the bar counter, taking a seat next to one another. The friendly waitress from two days prior instantly went over to them, providing them with menus.
“Hi again!” said Minghao, with his beginner level Japanese. Junhui looked at him in surprise, shocked that he suddenly started speaking the language of the city.
The employee greeted him back, asking if he would like some tempura.
“Junhui, is there anything you want? I’m getting some tempura. It’s delicious,” Minghao asked, nudging him to look at the menu.
“I think I’ll have some as well. I’ve had it before, but not in a place like this.”
Minghao nodded, translating for the waitress. “Two tempuras and two waters, please.”
The lady took their menus and went off, sending their orders to the kitchen.
“You’re just full of surprises, Minghao,” stated Junhui, giggling to himself as he observed the other man.
“So are you, Junhui. You remind me so much of home.”
The man beamed at Minghao’s words. He couldn’t imagine his trip getting any better than this. That was, until he remembered a fatal question.
“Oh, speaking of home… when do you fly back?” Junhui asked, curious of how much longer he’d be able to see Minghao around.
In response, Minghao sighed, as if going back to China was a chore he hadn’t been looking very forward to. “My flight is tomorrow morning.”
“That’s okay. We’ll make the most of today,” Junhui said, in an unusual attempt to lighten up the mood. “I’m really excited to try this tempura.”
While they waited for their food, they sat and chatted about meaningless things to one another, completely absorbed in conversation. Though it was almost the end of Minghao’s stay in Japan, the day had been too magnificent for him to even fathom.
“Here you are,” the employee handed them two plates and two waters, “please enjoy!”
“Thank you,” replied Minghao, both of them bowing slightly to the waitress.
“By the way,” Junhui started, nervously fidgeting with his hands (which Minghao found endearing), “do you want to come back to my suite after this? So we can keep talking?”
Minghao, with a bite full of fried shrimp in his mouth, nodded enthusiastically.
After getting that confirmation, Junhui lit up and finally took a bite of the tempura in front of him. “Woah… I’ve never had tempura this good before!”
“I told you,” snickered Minghao, “sometimes it’s good to have new experiences.”
🎬
Walking into Junhui’s suite, stomachs full and smiles wide, Minghao looked around in astonishment.
“This is where they had you stay?!” he gasped, bewildered at how massive the room was. It was like Junhui had his own high-rise apartment.
“Yeah, I know. It’s a bit much,” Junhui closed the door behind them, heading straight for his bed and plopping down.
“No wonder you’re bothered by this place. They just put you in the most expensive place to stay, never allow you to try anything that isn’t luxury tourist food, and force you to work until you crumble,” Minghao acknowledged, sitting down next to Junhui on the soft mattress.
“I guess you’re right,” frowned Junhui, thinking about all his bad experiences abroad. He felt spoiled, but to the point that he felt that he was missing out on the ordinary human experience. “I feel like we’ve only talked about me. Have you had any trouble coming here? Do you miss home too?”
Minghao scoffed, as if the answer was obvious. “Of course I do. I’d die to be home now with my family,” he paused, thinking if he should add anything to his response. Junhui looked at him, as if signaling him to continue.
“I don’t have many close friends. I’ve been to pretty much every corner of China doing modeling gigs, so I don’t get to talk to people other than my modeling buddies. But this is my first time abroad for my job, and I’m more than happy. Because I met you, my small piece of home in this brand new place,” he finished, tears welling up in his eyes.
The actor put his arm around Minghao’s shoulder, laying Minghao’s head in the crook of his neck. “You have no idea how much you’ve changed my perspective in just a few days, Minghao. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”
They sat there quietly for a while, warm in each other’s presence. It felt as if the entire world stopped; an unfamiliar wave of peace flooding over them both in the moment.
In time, Minghao faintly spoke up. “You know, I think I even saw you in my dream last night. I can’t escape you even in my sleep,” he teased, lifting his head up to look Junhui directly in the eyes.
“Is that a good thing?” Junhui asked innocently.
Minghao giggled. “You tell me.”
Junhui couldn’t respond, so he stared at Minghao’s face in admiration. His eyes naturally gravitated to Minghao’s plump, soft lips, suddenly craving the taste of them. Suddenly, new experiences didn’t seem so bad.
Minghao stared back, eyes flickering back and forth between Junhui’s heavy-lidded eyes and his own hydrated lips, with all thoughts about being totally normal about Junhui going out the large hotel window.
Within moments, their lips touched, neither of them being able to resist their lingering feelings anymore. In a country that wasn’t their own, they found their own familiarity and comfort within each other.
The kiss was sweet, a kiss of longing and yearning that built up inside them for what felt like much longer than just a few days. Gently, they put their hands on one another, hugging during their kiss of reunion.
Junhui broke the kiss, looking back at Minghao with dilated eyes and puffy lips. He was all giddy and they hadn’t even done anything too crazy.
“Do you want this?” Minghao asked, searching for any discomfort that Junhui may be showing on his face.
Discomfort was far from anything that Junhui had felt at that moment. From the first time he saw Minghao, he knew there was something about him that flipped his heart around as if it were in a pro gymnastics competition. He couldn’t lose this tender feeling; not again, at least.
“If there’s one place I didn’t expect to see you, it’s my bed,” Junhui articulated, “but I have no complaints at all.”
Minghao grinned, pinning his lips on Junhui’s once again. Their kiss was more aggressive this time, with a heaping of pure love and desire mixed in there as well.
Clothes found themselves on the floor, but neither of them paid any mind as they got mixed in with Junhui’s messy open luggage anyways.
They both got their mouths on wherever they could reach, not worrying about what the public would think about the marks desecrating their bodies. This was for them, not for anyone else.
Tokyo’s clear blue sky shone through the window near the bed, reminding them of the reason they had ended up so close together in the first place. The city was neither overwhelming nor underwhelming for Junhui anymore — it was just right. Being with Minghao, to Junhui, was the best thing he had done in the entirety of his career.
In Minghao’s eyes, being with Junhui had taught him to value his home a bit more. He had already been adventurous within his own country, and while he had wanted to travel outside it for ages, he naturally found his way back to the comfort of home anyways. Minghao loved it — loved Junhui.
Their movements were fast, but not rushed. It was raw and intimate, a moment of learning and unraveling for the two of them. They took each other apart and built each other back up, creating a whole that could not be separated any longer.
They had spent what felt like hours learning every last curve of each other’s bodies, not wanting to forget anything should they be parted once again.
After they had both orgasmed an innumerable amount (they both lost count, but knew it was somewhere around three times each), they laid in Junhui’s now-dirtied bed, breathing heavily.
“That was insane,” Minghao said, completely spent. “Hopefully you weren't acting because that was one hell of a performance.”
“Who said you had to be acting to perform for your lover?” Junhui replied smugly.
The younger man felt heat rise to his cheeks at the statement. “Lover?”
“Of course you’re my lover. Who else would be?”
Delighted with Junhui’s response, Minghao sank into Junhui’s arms as they cuddled skin-to-skin. Though they were gross — and definitely needed to shower soon — they were perfectly content, warm bodies closer than ever.
“Do you mind telling me what that dream was about?” Junhui gently asked, breaking the brief silence between them.
After moments of no response, Minghao lifted his head up to look at the other man. “We had seen each other again. But it was different this time,” he started, “because rather than going away from each other, we ran to each other. I think we were in China as well. It felt so… real.”
With a happy hum of understanding, Junhui closed his eyes in hopes of reaching dreamland as well. Minghao followed, resting his head on Junhui’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as he drifted off peacefully.
When Junhui woke up, the bed was cold. There was no other weight on it, only one body; his own.
The curtains in the room were closed, preventing the morning sun from reaching Junhui’s freshly opened eyes. They weren’t shut before, meaning that someone else had closed them. Minghao.
He made his presence known, momentarily giving Junhui some ecstasy, before he realized that Minghao had disappeared entirely. There were no sounds of feet shifting across the floor, the bathroom light was off, and the kitchen was left exactly the same as it was when they first entered the room. Junhui panicked, not knowing where Minghao had run off to.
And then it hit him — Minghao’s flight back was today. This morning, in fact.
Junhui turned over, going to grab his phone from the nightstand to message Minghao, when he noticed a neon green sticky note laying next to it. It read, in Mandarin:
See you in China ♡ Minghao
His heart dropped to his core, the words creating bittersweet wounds for his soul. Though he knew it meant he could see Minghao again, it was agonizing to see him vanish into thin air once again without any further notice. The worst part about it was that Minghao didn’t give him any specific location — he’d have to find his way back to Minghao on his own. Technically, he could just message him for an address; he felt like the model wanted him to come find him once again, though.
Junhui still had one more day in Japan before he could finally go home. Tonight was particularly important, as he had his movie premiere to attend. Tomorrow, he’d have a few more schedules, and he’d finally be able to fly back to China at the end of the day.
As he stood up to get dressed before heading out to another interview, he noticed something that was out of place in his suitcase. A piece of clothing, perfectly folded, that wasn’t his.
He stepped closer to look at it, when he noticed the shirt he wore yesterday was gone. Minghao had taken his shirt and left his own.
Junhui chuckled to himself, picking up the shirt and setting it on the bed where he prepared his outfit for the day. It still smelled like Minghao’s perfume, which brought a sense of comfort to the actor. He could wear it to his interview for the day — fully aware that if Minghao decided to watch it on Youtube later, he’d notice his dress shirt draped over Junhui’s body.
Minghao wasn’t completely gone. A piece of him was with Junhui, and a piece of Junhui was with him. It would all be okay soon enough.
📸
Two days later, Minghao knew Junhui came home.
His activities in Japan had finally come to an end, and he sent his official goodbye to the country on his Instagram story once he arrived in China.
Minghao never told him where he would be, but he gave him hints that would hopefully guide him in the right direction. He posted a photo dump on his own page, including a photo of his favorite restaurant back in Shanghai. It was unusual, but not unusual enough to where people would notice how out of place it was. Right next to that photo was a picture of the lobby of the hotel he stayed in, and he wasn’t sure if Junhui was crazy enough to overanalyze his posts, but it was done with complete intention to get his attention.
It was kind of ridiculous that this was what they were doing. Sending a quick text to each other would’ve been so much more convenient, and they both knew that. It was more about the fun of it than anything; it was a test of love.
Minghao knew he was being a tease, but he wouldn’t be doing that if he wasn’t completely and unconditionally in love with Junhui.
So, he waited. He sat in his favorite restaurant in Shanghai, a nice place near Changfeng Park, and waited. He wore Junhui’s shirt — his favorite shirt, actually — and sat at a table for two near the window.
He knew the owners well, and told them he was waiting for someone. That way, it wasn’t so weird that he was mindlessly anticipating without having any food in front of him. Still, they offered him some red vegetable soup in hopes of clearing his mind.
Minghao almost wanted to give up, thinking that perhaps Junhui wasn’t as eager or overanalytical as he thought. Of course, he blamed himself as well; he never hinted at a specific time to be there. For all he knew, Junhui could be waiting until a random Tuesday to go to the location, believing that Minghao would still be there anticipating his arrival.
After a long period of waiting, a sleek black van appeared at the front of the building. Minghao was already watching the cars go by, hoping that one of them would stop. Within moments, he no longer had to.
A tall man walked out of the car, wearing a coat and a uniquely familiar shirt. His hair was perfectly styled, and he had no makeup on, though he was stunning barefaced as well.
He walked into the small restaurant and took a seat right at Minghao’s table, directly facing him with a warm and relieved smile on his face.
“I found you again,” he beamed, “my home.”
Minghao snickered. “Of course you did, stalker,” he teased, “but it’s nice to be home, Junhui. Home with you.”
“You’re not any better for posting hints for me,” Junhui responded, unable to resist teasing Minghao back.
“I guess we’re even. At least we’re together.”
“I’m not letting you leave my sight ever again.”