Thread by @cheekycornchip, sangcheng twitfic! 4.7k & sfwmodern au; wei ying's 25th bday. everyone knows [...]

sangcheng twitfic! 4.7k & sfw

modern au; wei ying& #39;s 25th bday. everyone knows sangcheng like each other except for them.

Featuring; alcohol, awkward boners, literal sleeping together, and jiang cheng’s eyebrows.

bg yanqing, wangxian, jc/his flannel

#mdzs #魔道祖师 #sangcheng

It all starts because Wei Ying wants to celebrate his 25th birthday.

“It’s the last big birthday before you turn 30! And 30 is basically when you die, so...”

Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow. “Dead at 30? Is that a promise?”

Thus, Wei Ying lays out the plans to the group chat.

Yunmeng nightclub, drinks on him (actually on Lan Zhan). It’s going to be a night they’ll never forget. A last hurrah to honour their wasted youth.

If he doesn’t die at 30, Jiang Cheng will kill him.

“You’re actually going?” Huaisang says. “I thought you swore never to enter another nightclub after my 23rd birthday.”

Jiang Cheng has little memory of Nie Huisang’s 23rd birthday. It’s been subconsciously repressed. If he remembers, he will Regret it.

Whatever it is that he can’t (won’t) remember has to do with Huaisang himself; this much he knows. But he hasn’t the nerve to ask, and Huaisang hasn’t otherwise indulged him, so Jiang Cheng thinks it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t know the details.

The fateful evening of clubbing arrives. Jiang Cheng wears his favourite flannel because maybe, just maybe, it will buffer the sweaty bodies on the sticky floor and make the night somewhat bearable. He and this flannel have suffered worse odds.

He also has it under good authority (his own) that NieHuaisang likes this flannel. But Jiang Cheng argues with himself that this isn’t relevant information.

They start with drinks at a quiet bar, counting down the minutes to 9pm for the free entry cut-off at the nightclub. There’s no point getting in too early because no one will be there, but sitting around doing nothing is making Jiang Cheng anxious.

There’s a round of shots which does little to quell these nerves, and then Wei Ying hustles the group down the street, half of them already stumbling and giggling as they run to make it before 9pm. They are but sheep, and Wei Ying is their very questionable shepherd.

They make it with time to spare, but it’s only when they line up at the door to have their ID’s checked that Jiang Cheng realises he’s forgotten his.

“How could you forget your ID?” Wei Ying hisses at him, sounding genuinely miffed.

“I don’t usually need it,” Jiang Cheng snaps back.

It’s true. He’s 24 and never gets asked for ID, which is apparently a novelty among his friends.

(Jiang Cheng remembers being the one to buy alcohol for them all when they were still underage, breezing through the check-out without getting carded. Jie always said it was because the cashiers were too intimidated by his near-permanent grumpy face.

“I don’t have a grumpy face!” Jiang Cheng used to say.

He does. He’s used it to his advantage many times, but he’s not sure it will work on a nightclub bouncer who, on a good day, has probably dealt with worse shit than Jiang Cheng’s furrowed brows.)

“I’ll just go back home and get it,” he says resignedly.

He’s tempted to go home and stay there, but he made a promise. And he doesn’t want to ruin that promise by getting himself into trouble before he’s had enough alcohol to blame it on being drunk.

“No. I’ll handle this,” Huaisang says confidently. Too confidently for someone who only had one drink at the bar.

He’s wearing jeans so tight Jiang Cheng would probably agree to anything he says in them, but he still makes a valiant attempt at protesting.

What exactly it is he’s protesting, he’s not sure, but Jiang Cheng is scared to find out. Nie Huaisang is definitely not one to be messed with, but that isn’t to say his bull-headed determination for things to go his way always turn out for the best.

“I’ll distract the bouncer, okay?”

Not okay, Jiang Cheng thinks.

“What are you gonna do, show him your tits?” MianMian retorts.

“No, but if you’re willing to do that, then it would be a great help,” Huaisang says coolly.

MianMian probably would, especially to help out a friend. But she, like everyone else, is curious to see just how well-orchestrated Nie Huaisang’s plan is to get Jiang Cheng inside without making the situation worse.

They approach the bouncer, and Jiang Cheng is sweating through his precious flannel already, his trust in Huaisang’s ability to get them out of this unscathed dwindling by the second. Huaisang flashes his ID at the bouncer, who starts to wave him through.

A beat, and Huaisang’s directive changes from confident and daring to nothing short of utterly hysterical. Jiang Cheng is so taken aback he doesn’t realise this is actually his cue to sneak into the nightclub.

Nie Huaisang gasps and falls forward on the bouncer, sobbing despairingly as he claims the man looks just like an old boyfriend he used to date, and “why doesn’t he call anymore? Doesn’t he miss me? Is it really so hard for people to stay friends?”

The bouncer is so shocked that he doesn’t notice Jiang Cheng slip through the door and into the thumping music of the club. He spares a glance behind him as the door shuts, watching Wei Ying pry Huaisang off the bouncer, barely holding back his laughter.

“There, there, Xiao Sang! Leave the poor the man to do his job. Let’s get you a drink, eh?”

“All I ever did was love him! Was I wrong? Am I to blame?”

Huaisang’s hysterics trail behind Jiang Cheng until they’re out of earshot of the bouncer.

“Are you gonna shout me a drink after that performance, or what?”

Huaisang’s hand find’s Jiang Cheng’s and he pulls him towards the bar. Jiang Cheng heart rate goes into the 90s as he’s dragged through the crowd.

Drinks are supposed to be on Wei Ying (Lan Zhan), but Jiang Cheng pays for Huaisang’s and gets a stunning smile for it, which sends his heart rate even higher.

Jiang Cheng has always had a Thing for Nie Huaisang. He isn’t going to deny it to himself (to everyone else, however, he will). He hasn’t fully worked out the kinks of this Thing, but he often has to reckon with it when he’s least expecting it.

Like now, for example, when Nie Huaisang smoothly downs his drink in one, head tilted back and his Adam’s Apple bobbing. Jiang Cheng hides his face behind his bottle to force himself to look Away.

He looks away and sees Wei Ying already dancing, heaving a reluctant-looking Lan Zhan onto the floor near the speakers. Jiang Cheng can’t imagine Lan Zhan is having even a remotely good time, but he’s smiling anyway.

Jiang Cheng looks back at Nie Huaisang and can almost understand it.

He buys Huaisang another drink. Then, his sister is nagging them onto the dancefloor. Huaisang goes eagerly, but Jiang Cheng isn’t a dancer. He’s not nearly drunk enough for this, but Lan Zhan is too preoccupied to deliver on Wei Ying’s promise.

Nevermind, he thinks. There will be time later for being drunk. For now, Yanli needs company so boys don’t approach her, so Jiang Cheng obliges, the music of the club thrumming through his sneakers as he twirls her around every now and then.

The whole time, he’s watching Nie Huaisang and, damn, he can certainly move. Bracelets glinting in the strobe lights and hips swaying in those jeans, Jiang Cheng can’t help but smile at him.

He gets a smile in return, and for a moment Jiang Cheng almost forgets he’s surrounded by other people. He can almost hear Nie Huaisang’s singing over the blaring of the music, lost to the moment.

Huaisang pushes past some strangers and grabs Jiang Cheng, pulling him into a free space on the dancefloor. Jiang Cheng glances back concernedly at Yanli, but MianMian and Wen Qing have found her, so she waves him off with a wink.

Jiang Cheng thinks about that wink for a long time afterwards, wondering what on earth his sister meant by it. But for now, he’s very close to Huaisang and there really isn’t room in his head for anything else but that.

Jiang Cheng can hear Huaisang’s bracelets clinking cheerfully, his Doc Martens stepping on Jiang Cheng’s Converse, their hips brushing. The music is so loud he almost can’t hear it anymore. It’s just bass and strobe lights, falling through the universe.

Huaisang pulls Jiang Cheng in even closer until they’re practically chest-to-chest, arms up as he sings along to the music. He looks beautiful and happy, and he’s – he’s grinding his hips a little too hard for Jiang Cheng’s liking.

That is to say. He likes it too much and it’s going to get real awkward, real fast if Jiang Cheng doesn’t get the hell out of there. Huaisang does a twirl and now his back is to Jiang Cheng. Perfect, Jiang Cheng thinks. He can escape.

But he can smell Huaisang’s perfume, and feel the soft fabric of his t-shirt against his stomach where his own is riding up a bit from Huaisang’s movement. He’s never been this close to Huaisang before. Maybe once, but he can’t really remember it clearly.

Jiang Cheng wants to remember this.

He’s just about to give in to the urge and let his hands wander where they most likely shouldn’t when Huaisang suddenly whips back around, his eyes wide in surprise as he stares at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng stares back, still coming to terms with the loss of contact, music screaming in his ears like it hadn’t been before. When he sees Huaisang’s eyes travel to his waistband, there aren’t enough strobe lights in the world to hide how red he goes.

He doesn’t even have the dignity to say anything. Jiang Cheng flashes Huaisang a peace-sign with his hand, and promptly peaces the fuck off the dancefloor.

He beelines for the bathroom, slamming himself in a cubicle, breathing very hard.

It’s going to be a long night.

Jiang Cheng has always made a point of being careful around Huaisang, who is often affectionate and physical with his friends; feet on Wei Ying’s lap during movies, or piggyback rides with MianMian when they walk down the street.

He used to be that way with Jiang Cheng too, and Jiang Cheng was always conscious not to let it get to him. He’d create distance and disentangle himself. As a result, Huaisang mitigated almost all contact with him altogether.

Jiang Cheng misses it. Being that close to him on the floor makes him realise just how much.

Even after composing himself, Jiang Cheng only emerges from the bathroom when someone bangs angrily on the cubicle door. He returns to the migraine-inducing noise of the club and, when he sees Lan Zhan at the bar, all but runs over to order a drink.

He takes it to a table where a few people are sitting, including Huaisang. Jiang Cheng pointedly sits on the Other Side of the table next to his sister, downing his shot before sculling his rum-and-coke so fast the room spins for a moment.

“Have you seen QingQing?” Yanli asks loudly. “She promised to dance with me, but I haven’t seen her in ages!”

Jiang Cheng glances around and spots Wen Qing at the bar. She’s probably been gone for all of 5 minutes, but that’s evidently too long for Yanli.

“She’s over there,” he says, pointing.

Yanli whines. “Go get her, A-Cheng. She said she’d dance with me!”

Jiang Cheng allows himself a signature roll of his eyes before getting back up and going to the bar. His drink is finished anyway.

A tap on her shoulder gets Wen Qing’s attention. She doesn’t seem too drunk yet, if at all. Jiang Cheng wonders if she even knows how to be drunk. The woman could probably hold her own against Wei Ying.

“Jie misses you,” he tells her, leaning into her ear so he doesn’t have to shout. “You can’t leave her for too long when she’s had more than two drinks.”

“Trust me, I know,” says Wen Qing with a smirk.

Jiang Cheng looks back at Yanli, who is now reaching across the table for Wei Ying, flapping her hand at him, probably still asking for Wen Qing.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know why she doesn’t tell Wen Qing that she likes her. It’s so obvious she can’t even hide it when she’s tipsy.

Then again, Jiang Cheng can’t talk. He’s apparently even worse at hiding his own feelings.

He turns back to Wen Qing.

“You like Jie, right?” he says.

Wen Qing tilts her head at him, accepting drinks from the bartender. “What do you mean? She’s my best friend. Of course I like her.”

“But you /like/ her,” Jiang Cheng pushes.

Wen Qing glares at him and he lifts his hands defensively, as if it might stop her from throwing that drink in his face at the implication he’s making. But if she hasn’t done it already, then it means he’s not far off the mark.

“I’m just saying, you should take the initiative,” he says. “She’s shy, but she’d really like that.”

Wen Qing asserts her eye-roll dominance over Jiang Cheng. “Speak for yourself.”

Now what the fuck does /that/ mean.

Jiang Cheng frowns, but gets another drink. He manages to give Huaisang space when they all return to dancing, avoiding eye contact and playing pass-the-parcel when the girls need his towering height and eyebrows to shove off unwanted advances from strangers.

Around midnight, Jin ZiXuan tells him that everyone is leaving.

“Leaving?” Midnight. This is when the trouble usually starts. “Why?"

“House party,” ZiXuan shouts, thumbing to the door. “Free drinks!”

Where there are free drinks, Wei Ying’s friends are sure to follow.

Jiang Cheng stumbles out into the cold night, his ears ringing. The crisp midnight air snaps him back to reality, clearing away a bit of the alcohol head-fuzz. He sees his friends lingering on the corner of the street, waiting for everyone else, so he goes to join them.

“Da-ge’s having a party, so we’re gate-crashing!” Huaisang answers Jiang Cheng’s unasked question. His nose is pink from alcohol and the cold. Jiang Cheng wants to kiss it.

They pile into two taxis. Jiang Cheng doesn’t pay attention to who’s getting into which, so he isn’t really all that surprised to find himself squeezed in next to Huaisang, legs hot against each other in the proximity.

Jiang Cheng smiles awkwardly, and if Huaisang returns the smile, he doesn’t know because he’s hiding his mouth behind his phone. A little quirk Jiang Cheng notices he does when he’s being shy or, alternately, very vulgar. Sometimes there& #39;s no in-between when Huaisang is concerned

Jiang Cheng stares out the window of the car to further avoid any mishaps. With some luck, he and Huaisang can forget the whole thing ever happened and move on with their friendship, no matter how much Jiang Cheng wants it to be more than just that.

Nie& #39;s penthouse apartment is arguably worse than the nightclub, but at least Jiang Cheng knows his way around and can make himself a snack if he gets hungry. He finds a place to flop on the sofa, glad doesn’t have to dance anymore.

It& #39;s only worse because there are people here that he knows, and dislikes. There’s no chance for anonymity because it’s a small world and his brother gets along with everyone, and thus everyone thinks they can get along with Jiang Cheng as well.

Right now, Jiang Cheng only wants to get along with one person, but that person is currently making rounds of the apartment and smiling at everyone except Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng sinks deeper into the sofa like he’s trying to become one with the cushions. He’s still feeling the heat of his slip-up earlier that night, and is wondering how Huaisang feels about it.

Jiang Cheng wants to forget about it, but more than that, he wants to know what was really going on inside Huaisang’s head. Those eyebrows could have meant anything. They’re not like Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows, which only know how to crease with irritation.

The alcohol is wearing off as the night becomes nearer to being early morning. Jiang Cheng plays a game on his phone, legs over the arm of the sofa and his head on a pillow as the party dies down around him.

He considers calling it a night when he feels the weight of another person behind his head on the sofa and he looks up to see Huaisang nursing a bottle of water and looking a little worse for wear. He’s in his pyjamas; green and white with a bird motif.

“You okay?” Jiang Cheng asks him.

“I’m so tired, A-Cheng,” Huaisang murmurs.

His hand comes down to rest on Jiang Cheng’s chest, and Jiang Cheng prays Huaisang’s is too drunk to feel how fast his heart beats at the touch.

“You’re at home,” he says measuredly. “You can go to bed.”

But Huaisang shakes his head. “People are fucking in there.”

Well, that just won’t do.

Jiang Cheng locks his phone, gets up from the sofa, and marches to Huaisang’s room with his eyebrows furrowed to their Most Furious. He’d kick down the door for added effect, but he’s not so tough to weather Da-ge’s temper over a broken handle.

He opens the door and flicks on the lights to find none other than Wei Ying and Lan Zhan half undressed on Huaisang’s bed, thankfully not quite as compromised as Jiang Cheng has seen them in the past. Lan Zhan at least has the decency to look a bit ashamed.

Wei Ying, however, doesn’t miss a beat.

“Jiang Cheng, it’s my birthday!”

“Get out.”

A pout. Puppy eyes. A whimper. It does nothing to sway Jiang Cheng’s mood. He picks up Wei Ying’s shirt and shoves it into his hands.

“I don’t care what you guys do, but don’t do it in other people’s beds,” he scolds.

“What’s it to you, anyway?” Wei Ying challenges.

“Huaisang wants to sleep.”

“Pfft. Sleep with you, maybe.”

Dead man walking, is all Jiang Cheng thinks as Wei Ying leaves. Well, that, and he wonders what the fuck Wei Ying even means.

He returns to Huaisang, who’s fallen to his side on the sofa and closed his eyes. He looks cute, but tired. Jiang Cheng takes his hand.

“A-Cheng.”

Huaisang never calls him that. Jiang Cheng wonders what’s prompted him to start now. He likes it more than he cares to admit. Only Jie calls him that, but Huaisang can too, if he wants.

“Mmm?”

“Are you leaving? Everyone’s leaving.”

Jiang Cheng pulls Huaisang up from the sofa and coaxes him to his room.

“Probably, yeah. I’m super tired too, Huaisang.”

“Don’t leave.” Huaisang’s grip tightens in Jiang Cheng’s. “Stay.”

Jiang Cheng swallows, his stomach doing an uncomfortable flip that he can no longer blame on alcohol. He’s full-blown sober now and still desperately in love with his best friend. It’s scary how easily he can confess it to himself these days.

He sets Huaisang down on his bed with a little bounce and Huaisang falls back at once.

“I can’t stay. Where will I sleep?” Jiang Cheng says.

Huaisang lets go of Jiang Cheng’s hand and pats the bed next to him. “Right here.”

Jiang Cheng sighs, wondering what exactly it is that went wrong between them. He misses this Huaisang; clingy and smiling and dragging Jiang Cheng into all sorts of mischief. Did Jiang Cheng really ruin all that by keeping his distance?

But Huaisang has never implied anything more than friendship between them. Jiang Cheng has witnessed how he behaves around people he likes, and he’s never been that way with Jiang Cheng, even before they stopped being affectionate.

It’s never been more than a catalogue of accidental touches, stored away for Jiang Cheng to ponder at night, wishing it was different, but knowing it never will be. They’re just friends, and that’s fine. Friendship is still good.

All this considered, Jiang Cheng sees no harm in staying the night if Nie Huaisang asks him to. No doubt he will want someone to take care of him in the morning, and that will be easier to do if Jiang Cheng is already there.

He goes to the bathroom and finds a spare toothbrush, coming face-to-face with his weary reflection. Da-ge wanders in at some point as well, blinking in the mirror and seemingly not noticing that Jiang Cheng is there. They brush their teeth in exhausted silence.

Jiang Cheng is too big to borrow any of Huaisang’s clothes, so he kicks off his jeans and climbs into the bed, leaving his Converse and flannel next to Huaisang’s Doc Martens by the mirror.

Huaisang turns over in the darkness to face Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng can smell his perfume again, lingering on the soft scent of his pyjamas. Jiang Cheng didn’t realise how much he missed this smell, along with everything else.

He used to stay over at Huaisang’s place all the time during their uni days, studying late into the night and getting pancakes in the morning. It’s only been a couple of years, but it feels like a lifetime ago since they were that close.

“A-Cheng, does your phone have battery left?”

“A little.”

“Play something. It’s too quiet now.”

Huaisang curls into a tight ball while Jiang Cheng plays a song from his playlist. He places his phone between the pillows.

“Hey, A-Cheng?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“You haven’t been. Not for ages.”

Jiang Cheng frowns, but says nothing. He thinks a lot, but says nothing.

“This is a nice song.”

Huaisang passes out. Jiang Cheng can tell by the way his breathing slows, becomes heavier. He brushes a lock of Huaisang’s hair out of his face and then puts a timer on the playlist before falling asleep as well.

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Jiang Cheng sleeps until almost noon. When he wakes, the bed is empty, and his phone is dead. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth with dehydration so he gets up, plugs his phone on charge, and puts his jeans back on.

He then realises his flannel is not where he left it.

Frowning, Jiang Cheng leaves the room and shuffles down the hall to the kitchen. He can hear the television on in the lounge room, and the soft chirp of birds coming from the balcony. Huaisang always puts the cage out there in the mornings.

Huaisang is on the sofa with his brother, both of them staring lifelessly at the television and clutching cups of coffee. Huaisang is wearing Jiang Cheng’s flannel. The sight of it makes Jiang Cheng wanna die in the best possible way.

He drops down onto the sofa next to Huaisang, shoulders bumping. Da-ge grumbles at the sudden movement from where he’s lying down on Huaisang’s other side, evidently too hungover for even the slightest jostle.

“Jiang Cheng.”

No more A-Cheng. That’s okay.

“You want breakfast?” he asks.

Huaisang nods, so Jiang Cheng gets back up and makes breakfast.

As he does so, other people begin emerging from other rooms in the apartment, drawn in by the enticing sounds of cooking. Jiang Cheng grumpily adds more and more to the pans as requests for sustenance come pouring in, a little startled at how many guests are still here.

Only Lan Zhan has the grace to actually help out, since he’s the only one who didn’t drink. The man who can tolerate anything Wei Ying throws at him, except alcohol. Jiang Cheng for once is grateful for that.

Jiang Cheng gives Huaisang the first plate and a tall glass of water.

“It’s my birthday, Jiang Cheng. Why can’t I be first?” Wei Ying pouts.

Jiang Cheng gives him the next plate even though he doesn’t even look hungover.

“Psst, Jiang Cheng. How did it go?” Wei Ying wiggles his eyebrows.

Jiang Cheng glares at him. “What do you mean?”

The wiggling eyebrows point in the direction of Huaisang.

Jiang Cheng’s glare becomes a scowl.

“Just because you can’t keep it in your pants-“

“That’s not what Xiao Sang told me last night,” Wei Ying interrupts.

Jiang Cheng nearly drops the pan he’s holding.

“What did he tell you?” He does his utmost not to shout, and almost fails.

Wei Ying has the most shit-eating grin on him. Jiang Cheng wants to slap it off, but he’s frozen to the spot.

“Nothing. But now you’ve admitted something happened!”

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes. Maybe if he can’t see Wei Ying, he can pretend he’s not there.

He says nothing and goes back to cooking. When he’s done, he sits with Huaisang on the sofa again. Huaisang rests his head on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and Jiang Cheng bites back a smile.

“I took your flannel,” Huaisang says. “I hope it’s okay.”

The smile breaks through.

“Yeah, of course.”

“So soft.” Huaisang hugs himself. “Thanks for staying.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m gonna have a shower, okay? Feel free to go home if you want.”

Huaisang gets up, but he doesn’t give back the flannel.

So, Jiang Cheng stays. There are too many people wandering around the apartment, so he goes back to Nie Huaisang’s room to check his phone. The group chat was very active during the night so he reads through the backlog of messages.

Most of them are pictures of where everyone was at the time because, inevitably, they all lost each other at some point. Strangely, however, he sees a message from Huaisang as well. It was sent that morning before Jiang Cheng woke up.

“Can’t tell if I’m hungover or still a little drunk but, let’s be honest, I don’t need to be either to make stupid decisions. Thanks for staying, A-Cheng. I love you.”

“You can just…. Ignore this, if you want.”

Jiang Cheng sits on the bed, staring at the message. He stares for so long that he almost doesn’t notice the bedroom door opening and Nie Huaisang walking in. He looks better and distinctly less hungover, dressed in a clear pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

He’s still got Jiang Cheng’s flannel on.

That fucking flannel. Jiang Cheng wants it back. It’s the whole reason he’s still here.

But it looks so good on Huaisang.

Huaisang looks at Jiang Cheng, and then looks at Jiang Cheng’s phone. Then, like a lightbulb going off in his head, he goes very pale.

“Uh, Jiang Cheng.” He laughs nervously. “I can explain.”

Fuck this, Jiang Cheng thinks. I don’t want an explanation. An explanation isn’t going to be the truth.

He stands up and walks right over, kissing Huaisang full on the mouth.

There’s a tension in Huaisang’s shoulders that loosens under Jiang Cheng’s hands. The truth. The realisation that they’d both been kidding themselves.

Jiang Cheng pushes Huaisang against the wall and closes the door.

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“A-Cheng?” Huaisang props up on an elbow on the bed some hour or so later. “How long has this been going on for?”

Jiang Cheng tilts his head against the pillow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve fancied you since, like, high school. I’ve loved you ever since my 23rd birthday.”

“Your birthday? What happened on your birthday?” Jiang Cheng demands.

Nie Huaisang looks genuinely surprised. “You don’t remember? You kissed me at Qinghe nightclub and then passed the fuck out. You were so drunk, but it was still the best kiss of my life.”

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to process this information. He kind of wishes he had remembered that, but at the same time respects the fact that his brain did everything in its power to make him forget.

“Way before that,” he finally says. “Wait, is that why you stopped being all cuddly with me?”

“Yeah! I thought maybe you regretted it, and you’d always been a bit stand-offish about touching, so I respected that.”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I only regret that I don’t remember.”

He pauses, looking up at Huaisang. “Why don’t you remind me?”

Huaisang smiles and accepts the challenge, lowering his head to kiss Jiang Cheng.

How could he ever regret this?

[END]

Thanks for reading!

I was loosely inspiring by this art (go give it some love!): https://twitter.com/ginsays/status/1271555488677691393">https://twitter.com/ginsays/s...

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