Work Text:
Han Wenqing finds Ye Xiu exactly where he expected to: outside the arena, hiding by an old staff exit. Han Wenqing had suspected this habit hadn’t been lost in his year away; ever since smoking indoors was banned for health reasons, Ye Xiu had found all sorts of secret corners to have a final pre-match cigarette instead.
The timing hasn’t changed either. Ye Xiu is pulling a cigarette out of his pocket as Han Wenqing arrives, his gaze distant and thoughtful. No doubt he’s running the match to come through his head, thinking of contingencies, plotting how to ensure his rookies do their best.
Han Wenqing flicks open his old lighter and holds it in front of Ye Xiu’s face as a way of announcing himself. Ye Xiu’s eyes flicker to his, focused now, and his mouth curves in a smile as he leans towards Han Wenqing to breathe in the offered flame. The cigarette lights, smoke curling around Ye Xiu’s face and shrouding it for a moment as Han Wenqing puts the lighter in his pocket and settles against the wall next to Ye Xiu.
It’s familiar. In an odd way, so is the jacket Ye Xiu is wearing; the exact shades are different, and the logo has changed, but Happy wears white and red just like Excellent Era did.
“You still carry a lighter,” Ye Xiu’s cigarette dangles between his bony fingers as he leans against the wall, curling towards Han Wenqing until their shoulders touch. “Why bother? Nobody on Tyranny smokes anymore.”
Han Wenqing rolls his eyes and snorts; the lighter has never been for his teammates and they both know it. He’s more concerned by how Ye Xiu’s shoulder is bonier than it was last time they met. “Does your manager not feed you?” he asks. “If I need to get involved—”
Ye Xiu covers Han Wenqing’s mouth. “Chen-laoban knows perfectly well how to feed people. Our first full team meeting was eating hotpot. It’s just…”
Bringing Happy into the pro league is a miracle in its own right. Han Wenqing sighs against Ye Xiu’s palm and nods in understanding before peeling Ye Xiu’s hand away. He keeps hold of it, massaging the familiar bones.
“Helping your rival now?” Ye Xiu asks softly. His cigarette smoke drifts around them, a halo of memories a decade old. “Or do you do this for everyone you meet before the match?”
“You know I don’t.” Every inch of Ye Xiu’s hands is familiar territory. There’s nothing new to their elegance, no cuts or scrapes; even his nails are clipped exactly as short as they always have been, ensuring that Ye Xiu will always hit the keys exactly when he means to. Han Wenqing presses against the base of Ye Xiu’s thumb and sees Ye Xiu’s shuddering exhale in the smoke. “I save this for my old friends.” Han Wenqing lifts his eyes to meet Ye Xiu’s, opens his mouth to speak and—
“Don’t say it.” Ye Xiu closes his fingers around Han Wenqing’s. His expression is, for once, serious. This is the face he wears while playing Glory, and his full attention takes Han Wenqing’s breath away just as easily now as when he first felt it in the game. “We’ll see each other in the finals, old friend,” Ye Xiu tells Han Wenqing, and it’s not the brash certainty of the first season. It’s a wish, a prayer, a dream that they have shared since the first day they first told each other about being signed to teams playing in the Glory Pro Alliance.
Han Wenqing shifts his grip until they’re clasping each other’s hands. “Of course we will,” he says, the words gentle and sure. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Ye Xiu smiles at him, cigarette half-gone and half-forgotten, and—though his grip relaxes—he doesn’t move away.
There is no need to say anything else. They will play the best match they can today, and the next week, and the next, on and on until the championship hangs once more between their hands. Everything else can wait until afterwards, when there is time to plan for the future coming too quickly for them both.