Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Jun-ge,” Xiao-chen hisses for what must be the tenth time, her elbow digging into Gong Jun’s side.

He startles, then refocuses on Xiao-Wen, who’s looking expectantly at him, Sharpie pen in one hand and his other outstretched.

“Oh, god, sorry,” Gong Jun says, then hands over a postcard with Xiao-Wen on it. “You can make it out to Junjun,” he says, then, with more than a hint of embarrassment colouring his tone, “the jun from brilliant and handsome.”

Xiao-Wen laughs as he signs the picture. Gong Jun can feel his cheeks heating up a little. He knows he’s good-looking—he’s quite literally making a living off his looks—but it’s different having to say that to someone who raises the average attractiveness of everyone in the vicinity just by being near it. Gong Jun has posters of Xiao-Wen endorsing everything from shamate streetwear brands to his own mother’s preferred brand of face cream on his walls, who is he to be telling Wen Kexing that he, not Wen Kexing, is handsome?

He takes the photo back and stands there quietly as the other fans speak to Xiao-Wen, who seems as listless as Gong Jun feels. It’s uncharacteristic of someone as good at fanservice as Xiao-Wen is. Someone else comments on it—Xiao-Wen’s reply is clipped, brushing it off as tiredness.

Gong Jun knows it’s not. He feels the separation from Zhehan keenly. He misses the predictability of knowing who he’ll see on a day-to-day basis. He even misses the heat.

Xiao-Wen must feel all of that too.

He looks to the sky, wondering if Zhehan’s already fallen asleep, or reading the book he said he would. Gong Jun unlocks his phone and navigates to their chat, lingering on the message Zhehan sent before his plane took off—just a simple, missing you, flying off now.

Gong Jun’s thumb hovers over the “send” button on the unsent message he typed out once he knew Zhehan’s plane had taken off. He lets out a shaky exhale.

He’ll send it later. It won’t make a difference. Zhehan doesn’t get wi-fi on the plane.

Gong Jun presses “send” anyway.

miss you too

Xiao-chen’s elbow is digging into his side again, so Gong Jun quits the app, refocusing on the conversation the other fans are having with Xiao-Wen.

“Have the past few months been tiring for all of you?” Xiao-Wen asks, rubbing his eyes.

A girl next to Gong Jun titters. “Not as much as it’s been for you!” she chirps.

“Yeah, kinda,” Gong Jun laughs tiredly. “I’m not used to chasing stars.”

Xiao-Wen nods, looking at him. “How was the experience for you, then?”

Gong Jun thinks about the late nights with Da-xiong and Xiao-chen and the rest of the fans. He thinks about dragging Zhehan down from a tree, about being chased away by the crew many, many times, their standing orders for breakfast and how they’ll all eat together after Xiao-Wen and Zhou Zishu leave hair and makeup, the occasional late lunches and frequent 12 a.m. dinners.

He thinks about Zhehan again. Zhehan, who shared his apple with him, who tried to make him a taco with an air fryer, who woke him up with kisses every morning they were together and a glass of orange juice every morning they were not. Zhehan, who is beautiful in his bed and out of it, in a tree or on a basketball court, with him in a ferris wheel. He thinks of Zhehan, and his heart aches in a way it never has.

“It was fun,” Gong Jun says, smiling. “Every day was a good one.”

“I can see that,” Xiao-Wen says, his eyes lighting up as well. “Your smile says it all.

“Every day was a good one for me, too.”

Gong Jun has a busy first week back in Shanghai. The first few days are dedicated to laundry, cleaning the spots in his room Daidai’s robot vacuum cleaner didn’t manage to get to, working out, and catching up over meals with Daidai, Yutong, Qiaoxin and other friends he last saw before going to Hengdian.

Daidai takes him out for a drink one night and tries to pry for more information about Zhehan. He doesn’t say much at first, but they find themselves at Yutong and Qiao Xin’s after the bar gets too crowded, and the girls give him and Daidai manicures while Gong Jun tells them about how much he misses Zhehan, how pretty he is, how much he misses talking with him and singing with him and the way he smells.

He’s also pretty drunk.

Gong Jun takes no time to fall back into the rhythm of how things used to be. He doesn’t know if he’s more relieved or upset; he had expected that the shift from living with Zhehan to his own normal, daily life would be more jarring than it’s turning out to be.

Even though he’s busy, he still finds time to mope about Zhehan, earbuds plugged in and listening to his band’s soon-to-be released EP and their existing catalogue. Gong Jun stays up late into the nights hunting down shaky club footage of them performing, then hopping over the firewall to Youtube when the Chinese internet’s unable to provide him with more, saving each and every piece of video in a way he’s only ever done for Xiao-Wen.

(Zhehan had slightly undersold his band’s popularity—sure, they’re not mega-famous, but they do have a small, dedicated following. Which now includes Gong Jun.)

He and Zhehan text, though their messages are sporadic, Gong Jun busy with work and out at casting calls as Zhehan catches up with his friends on holiday. Zhehan sends Gong Jun pictures of himself wearing the couples’ hoodie Gong Jun bought for them, of the scenery, of Zhehan and his friends.

Xiaoyu is taller than he expected. Lu Fei is short. Gong Jun notes with some petty satisfaction that he’s handsomer than them, then likes Zhehan’s Friends Circle update of the three of them.

There’s the clouds, too. Zhehan takes many pictures of clouds, all of which make it to his Weibo, but Gong Jun’s the only one who gets the pictures of his sleepy face buried in his pillow, his hair resembling a bird’s nest.

Not to mention the, uh, much racier photos. Gong Jun is laundering his sheets one morning when the first message comes in—he’s expecting another picture of the pink-orange clouds Zhehan always takes on his morning runs and drops his phone when he’s greeted with a picture of Zhehan facing a mirror. His shirt is lifted up, the hem held between his teeth, his hand that’s not holding the phone pulling his sweatpants down, teasing the hint of a thatch of hair and the dark tip of his cock peeking from over the waistband.

Daidai walks in then, and Gong Jun panics so hard he almost kicks his phone under the washing machine.

They make it a point to video call every night. All—all of the calls end with Gong Jun fisting his cock to the view of Zhehan’s flushed face as he chases his own orgasm. Sometimes, it's a shaky video of Zhehan on the bed with his covers kicked off, hand around his thick cock and thumb occasionally brushing over the leaking tip and coming away wet.

Gong Jun wants to be there, between his legs, replacing Zhehan’s hand with his own mouth. He wants to feel Zhehan in him, teasing him about his lack of flexibility as he tries his hardest to bend Gong Jun in half and grind his abs against Gong Jun’s cock. He wants to fuck Zhehan so hard they both can’t breathe, then kiss him until they’re both ready to go again.

He wants to fall asleep with Zhehan in his arms and make him breakfast the next morning. But Zhehan is in Beijing and Gong Jun calls Shanghai home, so they make do.

Their messages become less sporadic when Zhehan returns to Beijing from vacation. They begin seriously discussing how they’re going to do long-distance, and Gong Jun starts budgeting for it.

He likes Zhehan so much. He misses him every moment he brushes his teeth, expecting someone to shuffle in and bump him to the side to free up sink space. Gong Jun misses Zhehan when he turns over in bed, what he once thought was a luxurious expanse of space now cold and empty. Eight hundred yuan once a month for a second-class seat on the bullet train will be a small price to pay to be with Zhehan; twice would require scrimping even more, but it’s worth it to Gong Jun, though they’ve both agreed to keep the expenses to a minimum for now.

Zhehan’s band’s miniconcert is in two weeks, but there are many potential jobs Gong Jun might get, and his schedule is yet to be confirmed. Gong Jun gets a bit of a panicky feeling whenever Zhehan mentions it—it doesn’t help that he always sounds so earnest and understanding, which makes Gong Jun feel worse.

“It’s okay if you can’t make it, you know,” he’ll say, and Gong Jun will feel like absolute shit as he replies,

“I’ll try, ge.”

There’s not much for Gong Jun besides his own work, games and friends to keep his mind off Zhehan. He’s a bit worried that if this continues, his cock will start to chafe and he’ll eventually beat it raw. Gong Jun’s just one man, he can’t handle the videos Zhehan sends of himself, accompanied with messages such as, for my good little dog and to keep you warm on these cold nights.

His phone’s starting to overheat from replaying the videos, which worries him. He just bought the damn thing; he can’t afford another one this soon just because he’s lonely and his boyfriend’s too far away.

On the actor front, Zhou Zishu’s been shockingly active on Weibo, having shared his vacation photos of his own volition and not via his studio’s account. Meanwhile, Xiao-Wen, who never fails to post on one of his accounts at least once a week, has been worryingly silent—he’s not updated on any of his platforms since his shaqing post for Shan He Gu Ren, though that’s set to change soon, with his upcoming brand event in Shanghai.

Gong Jun knows he’s flying off sometime today—Da-xiong’s been in Beijing for the past few days and is planning on being there at the airport to send him off, though she won't be flying into Shanghai until later that night. He has plans for an early dinner with her tomorrow, right before the event itself, which they’ll both be attending.

Gong Jun refreshes his Weibo feed while waiting for LoL to finish updating on his desktop, and immediately sits up straighter. Xiao-Wen’s finally reached the airport.

Gong Jun opens his chat with Da-xiong and Xiao-chen. He’s about to ask how they are when he sees the “…” and cursing and “hahahahahahaha WHAT” they’re both sending back and forth.

The doorbell to Gong Jun and Daidai’s place rings. He hears Daidai, Yutong and Qiao Xin rock-paper-scissors to decide who’ll answer.

“Junjun!” Qiao-Xin yells. “Delivery for you!”

“Can’t you bring it in for me!” Gong Jun yells back, as he walks out of his room.

He stops.

“Hi, Junjun,” Zhehan says, from where he’s standing in the doorway.

“Zhehan,” he breathes, slowly walking forward, as if he doesn’t believe Zhehan is real —as if disturbing it will make him wake and the image of it will dissipate and it will be him, once again alone in Shanghai while Zhehan’s in Beijing.

Zhehan smiles at him, though Gong Jun sees his worry leaking into his slightly furrowed brow, the tense sides of his mouth, the way he’s clutching on to the straps of his backpack and shifting slightly from foot to foot.

“How—how did you know where I live?” Gong Jun says, still in shock. He’s not prepared for this. Zhehan looks beautiful, as he always does; he’s wearing the black sweater Gong Jun got for him ‘because it was convenient’, a bucket hat jammed over his head and those soft plaid pants Gong Jun has had to launder way too many times.

“Qiao Xin,” Zhehan says, waving at her over Gong Jun’s shoulder. Gong Jun turns around and glares at the lot of them, who’re now busy acting like they’re unaware of Gong Jun’s existence, then turns back to Zhehan.

“You look like a kicked puppy,” Zhehan says, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack tighter. He laughs awkwardly. “If it’s a bad time—”

“No!” Gong Jun shouts, then grabs his keys off the hook by the door, shoving his feet into his outdoor slippers, then slamming the door closed behind them. It’s better to talk out in the hallway, where his friends can’t eavesdrop. “It’s never a bad time when it comes to you,” he says, and hauls him in, hugging him tightly, pouring all of what he’d felt and how much he wanted—still wants—to hold Zhehan into this one hug.

“I heard someone was moping?” Zhehan laughs, and squeezes him back, lifting him off his feet.

In any other situation, Gong Jun would be yelling for Zhehan to put him down, but he only hugs him harder and crosses his legs behind Zhehan’s back, trusting that Zhehan can handle his weight. “It’s me,” he says. “Sorry for being a stupid little dog.”

“You’re not stupid. But you’re my little dog.”

Gong Jun smiles at Zhehan when his feet are back on solid ground, the both of them pink-cheeked and laughing. He can only imagine how much of an idiot in love he must look like, but he doesn’t care. Zhehan’s here. Gong Jun’s missed him so much.

“I would’ve bought flowers, but I was afraid you’d think I was wasting money,” Zhehan says.

“I like flowers,” Gong Jun blurts out. “I kept the rose you gave me.”

Zhehan grins at him. Gong Jun’s heart momentarily stops, before it picks up speed and starts doing a mad thump in his chest like he’s been sneaking around on the Shan He Gu Ren set and got caught. “I like flowers too,” Zhehan replies. He takes Gong Jun’s hands in his, and kisses the backs of them, like he always does. It makes Gong Jun realise how much of Zhehan he’s missed. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Will you be waiting for me at the train station with flowers?” Gong Jun jokes.

He’s still so overwhelmed he doesn’t realise that Zhehan’s lowering himself to the ground until Zhehan is already kneeling; Gong Jun’s just thankful he’s not on his bad knee before he fully processes that Zhehan is kneeling. On one knee. Before Gong Jun.

Oh my god, Gong Jun thinks. Is he about to propose?

“Uh,” he says dumbly.

“Uh,” Zhehan echoes, then clears his throat.

Gong Jun doesn’t dare to breathe.

“Gong Jun. My baby,” Zhehan says gravely, looking up at Gong Jun. “You’re done for.”

Gong Jun, who’s studying Zhehan to ensure he isn’t stressing his knees out too much, belatedly registers the words. Horror dawns upon him.

“Oh no,” Gong Jun says, but Zhehan carries on, speaking impassionedly.

“Just you wait. I have never treated anyone—”

“Stop playing around and get up, you—”

“Let me finish.” Zhehan raises his voice as Gong Jun makes murder eyes at him and tries detangling their hands, but Zhehan’s hold is firm and he’s been lifting more than Gong Jun has. “I have never treated anyone this well before, except for my mom—”

“I will leave you out here.”

“I was born so I could protect you, and grant all your wishes. I want to give you the best things in the world. I’ll like what you like. Even when you turn seventy, eighty and no longer have teeth, you will always be my princess—”

“Ge,” Gong Jun pleads. That’s when Zhehan finally decides to take pity on him, allowing himself to be pulled up as he laughs.

“I haven’t even finished my speech,” he says.

“Was that your idea of a marriage proposal?” Gong Jun asks. “I’m not going to accept it.”

It should feel weird to be joking about marriage this soon, but just like everything else with them, it just feels like a natural progression of things. But it won’t happen this soon. He’s still living with Daidai, he can’t afford to buy a house for the both of them or hold a large, extravagant wedding with both their extended families in attendance, which is what Zhehan deserves. Their wedding should have a real cake as well, not the fake one he’s seen one too many of his distant cousins cutting.

Zhehan wrinkles his nose. “So picky,” he says. “However will I please you?”

Gong Jun shrugs, smiling down at him.

“My ma would kill me if I married you before bringing you home for New Year’s, anyway,” Zhehan continues.

“Yeah, mine would kill me too.” Gong Jun huffs a laugh.

“We’ll see,” Zhehan says, swatting Gong Jun’s hands away from where he’s dusting the knees of Zhehan’s pants. “If you haven’t noticed, I kind of don’t want you to die.”

“Oi. Don’t say such unlucky things. Who else on this earth would be willing to make breakfast for you?” Gong Jun says.

Zhehan shrugs playfully. “Don’t know. My mom? There’s also this one guy. He’s quite tall, around 190 cm, can handle his alcohol—”

Gong Jun’s arms go around Zhehan’s waist, pulling him into his embrace. “Quite good-looking too, I would assume.”

Zhehan wrinkles his nose, making a show of looking everywhere but Gong Jun. “I wouldn’t call Xiaoyu handsome.”

Gong Jun tightens his hold on Zhehan’s waist and Zhehan laughs, patting his chest in a show of pacifying him. “What are you doing here?” Gong Jun asks, because he knows Zhehan has more work than he has hours in a day. Sometimes, he’s clearing tasks even on their nightly video calls.

Zhehan goes silent for a moment, before he says, “We finished recording much sooner than anticipated and I had two free days. I heard from Qiao Xin that you’ve been moping, so I decided to surprise you.”

“Thank you.” The words rush out of him, the sentence ending on a cracked sound. Gong Jun’s arms can’t go any tighter around Zhehan than they are now.

Zhehan laughs, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Has my little dog missed me?”

“Your little dog always misses you.”

“Can he let go of me now, then?” Zhehan asks.

“I haven’t even said hi. Or kissed you,” Gong Jun whines.

So Zhehan says, all smiles, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Gong Jun says back, and kisses him.

Later, after they’ve kicked all of Gong Jun’s friends out with a promise that Zhehan will be joining them for brunch tomorrow, then sucked each other off, Zhehan says, “Can I finish my speech now?”

“No,” Gong Jun says immediately, then kisses him to shut him up. After the kiss ends, he looks deep into Zhehan’s eyes and says quietly, “It’s mine to say, anyway.” He brushes Zhehan’s curling hair away from his eyes.

“You asked me once, why I spoil you.” He presses a soft kiss to each eyelid, savouring the faint sound of Zhehan’s shallow breaths as he exhales through his parted mouth. “I spoil you so no other man can take you away.”

Zhehan smiles up at him. It’s a beautiful, beautiful thing. It makes Gong Jun’s heart gallop in his chest. It makes him want to fight ten thousand crazed fans for this man. He leans down and kisses him again.

“Wait,” Gong Jun says later. They’re both a lot sweatier, having jerked each other off before taking a break for some water and to do their daily check-ins on Zhou Zishu and Xiao-Wen’s SuperTopics. “How did you get Qiao Xin’s number?”

Zhehan splays out over him, bare skin against bare skin. He fits his palm to Gong Jun’s side; Gong Jun catches his hand before Zhehan jabs him where he’s most ticklish. “Answer the question.”

“Your phone,” Zhehan says lazily. “My birthday isn’t the most secure password.”

“At least it’s your birthday and not Xiao-Wen’s,” he says grumpily, throwing a leg over Zhehan.

Zhehan smacks him on the chest. Gong Jun suppresses his whimper. “If you’re going to throw a fit over me having Zhou Zishu’s birthday as my password, just say so.”

“I am.” He sulks at the ceiling, then feels Zhehan trying to pull away from him. He winds his leg around him tighter. “Hey, hey, hey, I’m joking, don’t go.” Gong Jun then feels his forehead being tapped by something solid; he squints, cross-eyed, at the iPhone being brandished over his face.

“Don’t be an overly clingy dog,” Zhehan says, but manoeuvres them so they’re wound around each other even more tightly. Gong Jun snuggles up against him as Zhehan unlocks his phone. His wallpaper is a picture of Gong Jun that Gong Jun’s never seen before—he’s wearing his shark print shirt, his hair in a cap and his face half-obscured by a mask, against the backdrop of Qing Ming Shang He Tu.

“Hey, where’s that picture from?”

“It’s one of the pictures I took of you, from the first time we met.” Zhehan locks his phone again and shows him. “See? Handsome, right?”

“It’s your boyfriend, of course he’s handsome.” Gong Jun tries not to sound too pleased. He isn’t terribly successful, and Zhehan scoffs. “I thought you deleted them.”

Zhehan navigates to the password change settings. “Well, I got lazy. And I thought you were cute.”

“Really?” Gong Jun says.

“Stop fishing for compliments.” Zhehan’s thumbs hover over his screen, where it prompts him to set a new password.

“I was joking, you know. You don’t have to change it for me.” Gong Jun gets an elbow to his ribs for that. “It’s painful,” he says, in his best kicked-puppy voice.

“I’ll kiss it better,” Zhehan says, turning his head to press a kiss to the nearest area of skin, which is Gong Jun’s shoulder. “So. Your birthday, yeah?”

Gong Jun hums, burying his nose into Zhehan’s hair. “Hmm. Actually, what do you get when you add our birthdays up?”

“... I don’t know,” Zhehan says.

“Use the calculator, ge.”

“Whatever, I’m just going to use your birthday.” Zhehan types the 1129 in, confirms it, then locks his phone and tosses it to the side, turning so he can hug Gong Jun. “I’m tired, let’s sleep.”

Gong Jun can’t keep the giggle out of his voice. “Sure thing.”

“Hey,” Gong Jun says later, when they’re both lying in bed, cuddling as they scroll through their phones. “Be honest. You didn’t just come for me, did you. You’re here for jie-fu’s birthday event.”

His yowl when Zhehan tweaks his nipple probably wakes the entire block.

“I’m going for your Xiao-Wen’s meet and greet as well, silly dog.” Zhehan bites him gently on the ear, then says, his voice indulgent, “But you know I’ll always be here for you, right?”

Gong Jun pulls Zhehan more tightly into his embrace, burying his face in Zhehan’s hair.

“I know,” he says. “I love you too, Zhang Zhehan.”

1006, Woolong Nuts Meet & Greet in Shanghai

(In response to a question about sharing a little about his latest project)

WKX: “Ah, well, Hengdian was hotter than I personally expected. But I received a lot of love from fans of the IP, the atmosphere on set was very good and the cast and crew took care of each other very well. Zhen Yan… I wouldn’t say we’re very similar, but he feels like someone I could have been in a past life. Mm. Ah, Zhou-laoshi… He’s become a very good friend. He’s a good shixiong, a good qianbei. I don’t know how I could have been the best Zhen Yan I can be without him alongside me. We look forward to you being able to experience Shan He Gu Ren and enjoying our performance.”

1007, Zhou Zishu Birthday Live Event

(In response to being asked what his ideal birthday gift is)

ZZS: “To tell the truth, I’m not one for gifts. I want the people in my life to show me they care in the mundanity of everyday life, like by not harassing you or getting into fights and giving you a headache. [Laughs] But a few days ago, I received the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten in all my years of life. I’ll treasure it and treat it with the utmost care.

“No, I’m not saying what it is. Feel free to continue guessing as much as you want.”

“If you continue fighting with Zhou Zishu fans, I’m breaking up with you.”

“... Ge.”

“No. Go away.”

“Geeeee—wait.”

“Stop, what, give me back my phone—”

“You absolute hypocrite, you’re fighting Wen Kexing fans—”