Lan Zhan just. Really wants to give his crush, popular soccer playing jock Wei Ying, some pudding. He doesn’t expect to end up /wearing/ it

It is Wednesday at 11:08 in the morning. Lan Zhan had rushed to the lunchroom after his last class, almost completely on the other side of the building. Today is pudding day

Lan Zhan doesn’t care about pudding one way or the other. But Wei Ying does.

Wei Ying, with a smile like the sun, a laugh like music, who always looks at Lan Zhan warmly, who makes an effort to include him in conversations when everyone else steamrolls him. Lan Zhan is quiet, nerdy, boring. Wei Ying has never made him feel that way.

Wei Ying is always, always kind to him. He spends time with Lan Zhan because he wants to, not because he wants test answers. He invites Lan Zhan to come to parties (Lan Zhan never says yes, too nervous), he asks him to his soccer games, and when Lan Zhan speaks, he listens.

Lan Zhan might be in love with him.

Lan Zhan doesn’t /bounce/ as he stands in line, because it’s unbecoming. But it’s a near thing. His hands feel a bit shaky and cold and his heart pounds as he waits for his turn to get pudding.

Across the lunchroom, bright laughter cuts through the noise. Lan Zhan looks over, lips pressed together, and sees Wei Ying, hand to his chest, head tossed back, mouth in a wide smile as he laughs. He’s surrounded by people. Lan Zhan’s heart races faster.

Finally, finally, it’s his turn. The lunch lady plops chocolate pudding into a bowl at his request, and he takes it. He packs his own lunch; he doesn’t need anything else in this line, but he has to wait to pay still. The wait is /excruciating/.

His leg starts to shake of its own accord, and he wills it to stop. He taps his fingers against his leg instead, still letting the nervous energy release but in a fashion that’s less irritating to others. Shushu always drilled into him to be still, to suck it up. So he tries.

He pays for the pudding as politely as possible, doing his best not to rush off too quickly. It’s just that he really wants to get to Wei Ying. As quickly as he can. Before someone else gives him pudding.

Lan Zhan turns and begins the long trip across the lunchroom, walking faster than he has ever dared to walk indoors. Wei Ying is in the corner, the center of attention among at least ten people. God that’s so many people.

So many people who will watch him as he gives Wei Ying pudding. He doesn’t care- well he does, but he’s ignoring it- Wei Ying likes pudding and Lan Zhan wants to give it to him.

Wants Wei Ying to give him that soft smile that only Lan Zhan sees, and say ‘thank you, Lan Zhan’ in a voice much gentler than his usual volume. Maybe he would invite Lan Zhan to sit with him. An unfamiliar group might be okay, if Wei Ying is there.

Lost in this train of thought, he forgets to watch his step. And he’s rushing. In a cafeteria. During lunchtime.

It’s his own fault, and entirely inevitable, then, when he slips on some- what is that? Beans? Unidentified brownish greyish slop. Everything is in slow motion as he goes down, the pudding flying into the air.

His head hits the ground first, and then the pudding follows, sliding out of the bowl, and landing on his face and chest with a *splat*. The entire cafeteria goes silent.

Lan Zhan squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see anyone’s faces, and especially not Wei Ying’s. Would Wei Ying laugh at him? He doesn’t want to know. His breaths come fast, tears pricking at his eyes.

A hand touches his arm and he tenses.

“Lan Zhan?” Oh god. It’s Wei Ying. “Hey, are you alright? Open your eyes, please, Lan Zhan.” He sounds worried.

Lan Zhan does not want to open his eyes.

“If you don’t open them, I’m going to assume you have a concussion and carry you to the nurse. I know you hate to be touched, but desperate times,” Wei Ying says.

That's wrong. He doesn't mind, if it's Wei Ying. He can't say that, though.

It's a very conflicting statement. He doesn’t want Wei Ying to think he has a head injury, but being carried by Wei Ying sounds...very nice. He’s got thick soccer player thighs. He smells good. Like the cypress notes from his cologne and the leather of his jacket.

Lan Zhan keeps his eyes closed, considering. Then he decides it would be embarrassing for everyone to watch Wei Ying carry him from the lunch room. He cracks one eye open, peeking at Wei Ying.

Wei Ying his frowning, brow furrowed, but when Lan Zhan looks at him a wide smile stretches across his face.

“There he is! Let’s get you upright, okay Zhanzhan?”

Lan Zhan’s heart could burst. He nods numbly, not trusting his voice.

Wei Ying guides him into a sitting position, a hand on his back.

“Nothing to see here! Go back to your food,” Wei Ying calls to the cafeteria at large. People like Wei Ying, so they listen to him, pretending not to watch out of the corners of their eyes.

Lan Zhan had forgotten about everyone else, for a moment. Of course they had all still been watching. He’s covered in pudding, and Wei Ying is arguably the most popular person in school. It’s like primetime entertainment.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Wei Ying asks him.

“Two,” Lan Zhan says.

“That one was easy. What day of the week is it?”

“Wednesday." A pause. Pudding day,” he says miserably. His shoulders slump, and he tries not to curl in on himself in embarrassment.

“Ah, shit, sorry, bad question, bad question,” Wei Ying says. “But at least I know you don’t need medical attention.”

Lan Zhan stares at his own feet, wanting to be anywhere but here.

“Lan Zhan, what happened? You got pudding? You don’t even like pudding,” Wei Ying says.

“It was for you,” Lan Zhan says quietly.

“Oh. Ohh, Lan Zhan, I wasn’t going anywhere, why were you rushing? I saved you a seat,” Wei Ying says. He’s rubbing circles on Lan Zhan’s back, trying to soothe him.

“You…what? Why?” Lan Zhan says, confused. Lan Zhan never sits with Wei Ying. Why would he save a seat for him?

Wei Ying laughs awkwardly. “You first.”

Lan Zhan’s face burns. The desire for Wei Ying not to hear the words he’s about to say and the ingrained habit of speaking clearly war with each other. The latter wins out.

“Because I /like/ you, and I was worried someone would beat me to it, so I was rushing, and I fell and now I look foolish.” He’s so angry at himself.

“You...like me?” Wei Ying says, his voice sounding strangled.

Lan Zhan winces. Did he say that part out loud? His best kept secret, blurted out in a moment of pudding covered weakness.

Ideally, if he /was/ going to confess, it would be under the stars, and Lan Zhan would be wearing one of the outfits he’s bought that have yet to be seen outside the safety of his bedroom. He would bring flowers and pick his words very carefully.

Instead, he’s sitting on the disgusting lunch room floor, wearing pudding, and his words are the opposite of careful, tumbling out of him uncharacteristically. His face is surely red from embarrassment and barely contained tears, and they have an audience.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, voice soft. “Your turn.” He’s avoiding eye contact with Wei Ying.

“I saved a seat for you, like I do every day, because I want you to sit with me. Because /I/ like /you/,” Wei Ying says.

Lan Zhan’s mouth goes slack, staring at Wei Ying.

“Me?” he says, incredulous.

“Yes, you! Lan Zhan, I thought I was being so obvious. I’m always hanging off of you, and inviting you to things. Sometimes I wander around your favorite places in the school, hoping to find you,” Wei Ying says. “It’s /embarrassing/. I thought you knew!”

“I did not know,” Lan Zhan says, mind racing. Wei Ying??? Likes him???? Wei Ying?????????

Wei Ying glances around the room, at everyone still pretending not to be watching them when they clearly are. “Let’s go somewhere else, ah?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t get a chance to respond before Wei Ying slides an arm under his knees, the other wrapping around his shoulders, and then he’s being lifted into the air, pulled snug against Wei Ying's chest.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan protests. “I can walk.”

Wei Ying tightens his hold on Lan Zhan. “You just hit your head, what kind of man would I be if I made you walk out of here?”

“But I am covered in pudding,” Lan Zhan argues.

“What’s a little pudding between friends?” Wei Ying says.

“Right," Lan Zhan says slowly. "Friends.”

Wei Ying swings around so he can push the door to the cafeteria open with his back, pulling Lan Zhan in a bit tighter so his head doesn’t hit the frame.

“Just a phrase Lan Zhan. I...really hope we’ll be something other than friends.” He’s looking straight ahead as he walks, cheeks flushed. “Unless you now associate me with pudding related trauma, and never want to see me again,” Wei Ying says, voice light.

“If I were to associate anything with trauma, it would be pudding itself. Wei Ying is perfect,” Lan Zhan replies.

Wei Ying nearly trips. “Don’t mince words much, do you Lan Zhan?”

“You deserve to know it.”

“You are /lethal/,” Wei Ying says as they round a corner.

They’ve reached a small alcove, hidden from passersby. The classrooms on either side are empty. It is often referred to as the “makeout corner”. Lan Zhan tries not to think about that.

He also tries not to feel too disappointed when Wei Ying gingerly lowers him onto his feet.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, your beautiful hair has pudding in it,” Wei Ying says, trying in vain to get the dessert out of his hair. Lan Zhan had, unfortunately, chosen to wear his hair down today, and much of it now has chocolate goo in it.

“As you can see, Wei Ying, I have pudding in many places,” Lan Zhan says, gesturing to his shirt. Wei Ying grins at him.

“I would give you some clothes, but I only have the ones I’m wearing,” Wei Ying says. “Not that I haven’t been dress coded for less. Less fabric that is.”

Lan Zhan looks at the ceiling, willing his gay penis to behave. Trying not to think about the time Wei Ying had come to school in a crop top and a pleated skirt. He counts to ten. He breathes. Alright. All good. “Please keep your clothing on,” Lan Zhan says, voice strained.

A peal of laughter comes from Wei Ying. “I’m not gonna start stripping in the school hallway, don’t worry,” he says. “What about you though? You can’t just wear pudding all day.”

“I will shower in the locker room and change into my exercise clothes.”

“Lan Zhan walking around in a tank top and booty shorts? How will this school survive,” Wei Ying says, winking at him.

Ears heating again, Lan Zhan grasps for a subject change.
“Wei Ying. You said...you want...” Saying it aloud feels like clawing the words out of his throat.

The smile on Wei Ying’s face softens. “Yeah, Lan Zhan, I...I like you, I really like you. I thought you knew, and just didn’t want to embarrass me. Everyone always teases me about it,” Wei Ying says, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Oh,” Lan Zhan breathes. He’s already heard it, but he’s in a lot less shock now. “I like you too.”

Wei Ying smiles at him, small and sly. “What are you going to do about that?”

“Um,” Lan Zhan says. He doesn’t want to give the wrong answer. “Date you?”

Wei Ying moves a bit closer. “I mean, yes, ideally. But right this second?”

Wei Ying is very close. Very, very close. Lan Zhan feels maybe like he can’t breathe. “What do you want me to do, Wei Ying?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it? With words? That’s so mean, Zhanzhan,” Wei Ying says, pushing his lip out and making big puppy dog eyes at him.

“Yes, because I cannot read minds, despite what some rumors may say,” Lan Zhan replies.

“Lan Zhaaaaan,” Wei Ying groans. His head drops onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “I want you to kiss me.” His voice is muffled, but Lan Zhan is pretty sure he heard him correctly.

“Wei Ying, why don’t /you/ kiss /me/?” Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying lifts his head. “I’ve never kissed anyone! You’re the one with all the experience!”

Lan Zhan opens his mouth, then closes it. What? What. W h a t. “Experience with who?” he asks, incredulous.

“You know,” Wei Ying says, gesturing vaguely. “People.”

“Wei Ying, I have never kissed anyone either.”

It’s Wei Ying’s turn to open and close his mouth in shock. “I just thought— you’re so cool and confident. And hot.”

“I am a mess of nerves at all times,” Lan Zhan says. “I simply hide it well.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying says.

“Oh,” Lan Zhan echoes, smiling at him.

“So who’s kissing who?” Wei Ying asks. He lifts Lan Zhan’s hand, playing with his fingers.

“I have pudding on my face,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying laughs, eyes returning to Lan Zhan’s.

“Adds flavor. Who’s kissing who?”

Lan Zhan takes a moment to think. Wei Ying wants to kiss him. Wei Ying, who looks strangely shy, who’s still moving his fingers around to distract himself. Wei Ying, whose lips are pink and full, and currently being worried between his front teeth.