Work Text:
“Wen Kexing, if you don’t get your ass up right now.” Zhou Zishu deadpanned first thing in the morning, the red digits of the cursed alarm clock glaring an almost malicious 5:17 on the wooden nightstand of their shared room.
The only answer Wen Kexing provided Zhou Zishu with was a lazy provocation in the form of a sleepy moan, which the latter knew that it could only be translated as an invitation to “try me” in the former’s elaborate, twisted dictionary; casually taking his words as the usual, empty threats.
Zhou Zishu sneered in response as a sarcastic smile vigorously glazed upon his slightly chapped lips, proceeding to slowly drawl out a languid “Test me and see if I’ll agree to brush your hair this morning.”
Now that snapped the pretending-to-sleep Wen Kexing awake, the joints on his back produced a painful crack in the haste, causing the grown man to wince due to the sharp pain that came along with the dull sound of his bones popping.
Zhou Zishu only smirked in triumph as he witnessed the scene that had unfolded beyond him, revelling in the transient high of sweet, petty revenge while definitely thinking something along the lines of serves you right, asshole.
It was the weekend. Usually, despite it being the end of the week, they would still be required to address the exhausting heave of work. Yet this weekend was a rare day off where both men were given the opportunity to wind down from the tiring week; a once-in-a-blue-moon spare time when they were actually released from the suffocating chokehold of their daily workload (albeit temporarily), which drove them to furiously cherish this scarce break more than ever, knowing just how precious it was. And throughout the years of living together, they had to naturally work their way to build an elaborate routine that could conveniently accommodate both of their personal preferences and needs; one that they had to slowly explore and tweak on over the years through persistent amounts of late night conversations, countless of frustrating experiments to test just how far their tolerance and patience could go, and some trial runs to inquire the furthest boundaries they are willing to compromise for each other. One of these so-called routines is to bike alongside the sea that bounds only several blocks away from their humble abode and witness the gradual unraveling of the sunrise every weekend in the solace of each other’s presence, even if that meant they had to go to work two hours later feeling like they were about to collapse and surrender to the alluring call of slumber.
Truthfully, both Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing don’t really abide by any particular routines. Their day-to-day schedules change along with them, a somewhat befitting prospect to adjust to the fickle nature of human beings that would inevitably shift against the lullings of time. Yet among all of the changes that had occured in their chaotic lives, watching the sun paint the ocean tides with mixtures of reds and blues has always been one of the things that remain constant. It was the only moment in their week where they could simply sit down and drown themselves in the distant sounds of the world moving as they stood completely still, the warmth shared within the premise of their clasped hands felt like both a remedy and a long-lost home beneath the gentle company of the salty, ocean breeze. It was under this same yawning sun and brightening horizon where they had first been introduced to the concept of living instead of merely existing, the place where each grain of sand had once burdened the heavy strikes of their acid tears and has since immortalized the unwavering liberation of their fleeting smiles.
It was about five minutes later that Wen Kexing finally exited their shared room, meeting Zhou Zishu in the kitchen that was now engulfed with the familiar fragrance of pancakes. Due to Zhou Zishu’s passiveness in the past towards matters that include house chores and cooking, they had tacitly made an agreement to take turns in the role of making breakfast each morning. They would usually split daily chores equally depending on the day, too, refusing to let the other carry the dreadful bundle of tiring chores alone. Today was Zhou Zishu’s turn to make breakfast, hence why Wen Kexing was able to sleep in for a little bit longer.
“A’xu,” Wen Kexing said in a coquettish manner after they had finished eating a quick, silent breakfast, “Is it just me? But I swear you look extra handsome today.”
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes as he stood up, proceeding to stand behind the chair he previously sat on as he made hand gestures for Wen Kexing to sit, “Don’t be disgusting. Come.”
Wen Kexing’s eyes brightened tremendously as the apples of his cheeks rose to shelter the weight of his grin, enthusiastically skipped as he made a short detour around the dinner table, then proceeded to sit ceremoniously after he had mischievously gifted Zhou Zishu’s lips with a peck. Once Zhou Zishu broke out of his trance, he was only greeted with the crown of Wen Kexing’s head and his annoyingly broad shoulders, the smug grin that had planted pridefully against his lips almost seemed to vibrate through his entire being. Zhou Zishu could only roll his eyes helplessly and eventually settled to pettily pinch the latter’s ears, which earned a precious giggle, then begin to carefully let his hands instinctively weave through the familiar threads of hair.
Essentially, the only thing Zhou Zishu would usually do to Wen Kexing’s hair was to put it into a high ponytail. It wasn’t that Wen Kexing didn't know how to do it, but simply because Zhou Zishu, albeit secretly, liked the thought of doing something for his lover — even though that particular something is as simple as brushing his hair and putting it up into a mere ponytail. Moreover, Wen Kexing adores it. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Wen Kexing had once told him how his mom used to do this every morning, and how he would cherish those moments every day. If Zhou Zishu could help immortalizing the warm essences of what Wen Kexing had left of his mother in any way possible, especially when the said method also gave him the opportunity to be intimate with his lover in the purest of ways, then really, who was he to say no?
A kiss on the crown of his head signalled that Zhou Zishu was done. Wen Kexing raised his head to meet his lover’s gaze with a smile, lips proceeding to form an overly exaggerated pout which indicated that he was demanding his morning dose of kisses. Zhou Zishu could only shake his head with a tinge of fond exasperation clouding his eyes, body tilting forward to give the irritatingly adorable bastard several kisses on the lips and cheeks. He ended the kissing spree with a peck in between Wen Kexing’s eyebrows, proceeding to pull the man up after he saw the decreasing amount of time they have left before sunrise. They finally settled on their respective bikes after stuffing their mobile phones and a well-loved earphone into their shared pouch, tightly securing the gates of their house behind them.
When they finally arrived at the shore, they were panting like a bunch of idiotic dogs due to the impromptu race Wen Kexing had initiated, one that the unhealthily competitive Zhou Zishu couldn’t deny of. If it was one of the mornings where Zhang Chengling was present, the kid would purposely lag behind so that outsiders won’t ever know that these pair of embarrassing hags were the parental figures in his life, instead choosing to busily mutter silent grumbles under his breath filled with nothing but all types of questions which A’xiang could safely confirm that they were all simply synonyms to: wikihow to disown your own parents. Well, if Zhang Chengling had to say something, it really wasn’t the race itself that was the most embarrassing. Unfortunately. It would definitely be the flirting-screaming they’d do that would echo throughout the silent neighbourhood, which was literally just a cycle that consisted a bunch of obnoxiously loud “A’xu, if you win i’ll reward you with thirty kisses!” which would be followed with Zhou Zishu screeching a “Who the fuck wants your kisses!” back while proceeding to bike faster anyway without any sense of shame. It’s humiliating, if you’d ask him. Utterly disgusting, too.
It was slightly cloudy that day, so the sky looked immensely pretty as rosy linings gently embraced the racing clouds like the halo of fading autumns and cherry blossoms, sculpting a plethora of patterns and mixtures of blushing shades upon its wake.
“Do you plan to go to the market today?” Wen Kexing softly asked against the slightly piercing autumn breeze, watching as Zhou Zishu mindlessly fiddled with his fingers and traced the outline of his tattooed wonders brimming with roses and lilies that had stemmed from the middle part of his hands up till it stretched and settled onto the bottom half of his fingers. Roses and lilies, they were my parents’ favourite flowers. White and red tangled with each other in harmony, some made homes against the creases of Wen Kexing’s fingers while others would disappear into the backside of his hands. It could mean a lot of different things, I suppose. A reminder of their existence. A punishment for all the words I had failed to tell them in this lifetime. A sacred form of my gratitude for giving me this life. An essence of their warmth. An eternal memorial of their light. It’s a habit that Zhou Zishu had unknowingly cultivated over the past years, simply because he loved to relive the feeling of having butterflies fluttering in his belly for the first time, one that could only be evoked by clasping these warm, familiar hands. There will be days where I would find myself missing them more than usual, and with this tattoo clasped against my hands, I only need to close my eyes to feel the ghosts of their warmth lingering on my skin. On somber nights where I lie awake, it serves as a reminder that despite everything, they’re still here with me, holding my hands. And for a moment in time, they would be just as warm as you, A’xu. Do you know? You’re so warm. I miss them. I love you.
“Hm, any pastries you’re craving right now?” Zhou Zishu eventually replied, eyes squinting as the sun started to scorch through the last remnants of the dusk.
“Oh!” Wen Kexing exclaimed with a child-like smile, “I want that strawberry cheesecake you made last month. Can you make that?”
Zhou Zishu smiled softly under the sun, every single curve and crevice seemingly aligning to sculpt a constellation so humane and lovely, one that Wen Kexing could afford to reach and stare at for days and days no end, kissing silent confessions against the sun-kissed skin like he’s weaving the finest forms of love sonnets underneath the trails of his flaming, strawberry red lips.
Sometimes, Zhou Zishu wondered just how in the hell those blushing, rosetté lips could manage to embed such longing, aching blues onto his skin.
“Of course, let’s go.”
Then again, Wen Kexing is embodied with all sorts of wonders and mysteries himself. So Zhou Zishu only smiled, kissed those sanguine lips black and blue, and loved him just as hard. (After all, in a world where things would spiral into complicated strums of chaos and bloodshed, loving Wen Kexing is most definitely the easiest thing Zhou Zishu has ever done. And he’d do it over and over again.)
oOo
It was late noon by the time they arrived home, having eaten lunch outside after strolling around the market searching for various types of ingredients. The sky had gradually darkened with various shades of grey, an impending rainstorm threatening to spill through the thundering clouds yet thankfully, they had managed to reach the compromise of their house before it had any chance to pour down and soak them wet from head to toe.
“Wen. Ke. Xing.”
Zhou Zishu was currently preparing the ingredients to make some strawberry cheesecake, alternating in between the area of the kitchen and the dining table with Wen Kexing tailing behind like an abandoned puppy. The process of weighing the flours and some other powdery substances had gone relatively smooth, up until Zhou Zishu reached onto the strawberries just to find out that Wen Kexing had been munching on it for the past fifteen minutes or so, leaving only barely half of the initial amount.
“Thank the fuck there’s still enough strawberries or else I will personally make it my life mission to skin you alive, Lao Wen.”
“Oh my god?” Wen Kexing retorted in a mocking surprise, “Wait, wait, wait. Whoa. So you’re saying that that hasn’t been your life mission all along, A’xu? Hey, don’t you know how fragile my heart is? You can’t expect me to be able to take all of this massive amount of love so suddenly without going through several heart failures, can you?”
“Wen Kexing,” the other man uttered whilst emphasizing each word with a borderline constipated smile on his face, “Shut the fuck up.”
“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry. Don’t be so mean, A’xu. I gave you every piece of my heart and it’s just my right to remind you to take extra good care of it!”
The useless bickering, messy flirting, and pathetic attempts at making several functional conversations continued till the alarm Zhou Zishu had set on his phone made a timely ring about three hours later, which was set for the purpose of letting the strawberry cheesecake chill on the fridge for a little while to achieve its best flavour. Their petty arguments stopped only because they couldn’t necessarily multitask in between stuffing their faces with cake while spewing absolute nonsense, hence choosing to cultivate cavities over the usual bullshit instead. In conclusion: other than the grains of flour on Wen Kexing’s cheeks and the red blotches of strawberry juice that Wen Kexing had accidentally stained Zhou Zishu’s white shirt with, there really weren't more trails of physical disasters that could be seen. Keyword: physical disasters.
(“Wait, since when did my shirt get stained???” Zhou Zishu muttered loudly with a frown.
Wen Kexing, the stupidly naïve culprit who had hoped too much that his lover wouldn't notice if he didn’t tell him anything about it, could only pretend he didn’t hear anything in hopes that Zhou Zishu would simply put the matter to rest. Again, naïve.
“Fucking hell. Wen Kexing, you motherfucker. You knew about this, didn’t you?”
“A’xu, your ease in putting the blame on your innocent lover is quite saddening.”
Wen Kexing’s words was only met with a prolonged silence, the type that could terrifyingly drop a room’s temperature by several degrees and cause chills to plague your spine. Wen Kexing could almost hear Zhou Zishu’s murderous who literally demanded to reenact a fucking stupid make-out session from that stupid romcom you loved so much in the middle of a goddamn baking session, hm? Not only that the kitchen counter was littered with nothing but flour, but you’re also saying that you didn’t wash your fucking hands after eating those goddamn strawberries you stole and still dare to think about touching me? Very good, Wen Kexing. Very good. through the stillness in the air, wincing at the underlying profanities hidden beneath the unnerving tranquility.
“Wen Kexing,” Zhou Zishu’s voice eventually echoed from the bathroom, filled with venom and something evil as he uttered, “you’re fucking dead to me, you little shit.”)
oOo
It was a relatively mundane day, so it had passed quite smoothly. Despite his workaholic soul itching to work on something, under the persuasion of Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu managed to tackle the tempting urge to get some papers done. He spent the entire afternoon lounging on the couch instead, reading a fictional novel he had procrastinated on for too long that he had no choice but to reread several chapters back to get an idea of where he had left it off the last time he had read it, with fingers mindlessly caressing the tips of Wen Kexing’s hair as the man comfortably napped on Zhou Zishu’s lap.
By the time Zhou Zishu reached halfway through the book, darkened tinges of orange peeked through the openings of the translucent curtains, indicating the beginning to the arrival of dusk. Which also meant that it was time for dinner. He made sure to bookmark the last page he had read before putting it on the console table seated in the middle of their relatively wide living room, gently leaving a fading kiss on Wen Kexing’s lips afterwards.
“Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu softly called as he tried to shake the sleeping man awake. “Wen Kexing. A-Xing.”
A helpless sigh.
“Wake up, starshine.”
Wen Kexing’s eyelashes fluttered gently as he slowly opened his eyes, lips curling into the softest of smiles as his honeyed orbs reflected a tinge of mirth and adoration.
“Good evening, my dearest moondust.” Wen Kexing whispered softly into the space in between their lips as he granted his lover a fleeting, butterfly kiss, “How was the novel?”
“It was okay, I suppose.” Zhou Zishu replied as he tenderly tended to the other man’s hair in which some had sleepily wandered astray. “Could be much better, though.”
Dinner was a simple affair, warm and familiar with Zhou Zishu’s voice gently permeated through the air as it blends with the distant hum of rain and the slight crashing of waves from the faraway ocean, the man ardently expressing his personal opinions and critiques regarding the book in between the pauses of the next spoonful of his food as Wen Kexing watched and listened with fondness. He adored moments like these, where sparks of passion could be seen seeping almost vigorously through Zhou Zishu’s bearing as he fervently talked about a book he had been burying his nose in, with Wen Kexing finding it extremely adorable and endearing in the way he would unconsciously make exaggerated hand gestures as he rambled on. It made his heart swell into something he couldn’t decipher, yet the overwhelming emotion suspiciously felt close to the aching, love letters he’d whisper onto Zhou Zishu’s skin as he littered his lover’s skin with a garden full of purple lotuses and blue lilacs.
oOo
“Blueberry, pomegranate, aloe vera, honey, green tea, and avocado. Which face mask do you want to use today?”
They are in their room now, comfortably doing their usual nightly routine as they take turns in taking a quick shower. Zhou Zishu is currently standing in front of the container filled with skincare products safely tucked on the right side of their dresser, where rows of face masks and lip balms reside.
“Hm,” Wen Kexing hummed in thought as he sprawled comfortably on their shared bed. “Let's use the blueberry ones today.”
“Okay.” Zhou Zishu easily agreed as he took out two packs of blueberry-scented face masks. He then proceeded to drag Wen Kexing to the bathroom to wash their hands, which earned a lazy groan from the latter as he was forced to temporarily surrender the comfort their bed provides.
“Come closer, idiot.” Zhou Zishu deadpanned as he ripped open the familiar packaging of the face mask, gesturing the space beside him for Wen Kexing to sit on.
Wen Kexing sat down on the bed with a satisfied grin making homes comfortably on the edges of his lips, to which Zhou Zishu begrudgingly reciprocated with a small, loving smile.
“How am I going to apply the face mask on your face if you keep grinning, Lao Wen?”
“If there’s anyone to blame, it’s you, love.”
“Please kindly give me and the mosquitoes in our room some mercy from your disgusting choice of pick-up lines. Now quick, my hands are getting sore, you dumbass.”
Wen Kexing tried his best to dampen the grin on his face as Zhou Zishu worked to apply the face mask properly, softly dabbing at the little creases with that endearing expression of earnestness which the latter would display when he is concentrating on something, and also one that Wen Kexing furiously adores.
Wen Kexing couldn’t help but gently pinch his lover’s right cheek before he helped him with his face mask, a fleeting look of bewilderment passed through Zhou Zishu’s face which he soon had to suppress as the former started to work on applying his face mask.
“Why did you pinch my cheeks?” Zhou Zishu mumbled through the face mask in an attempt to move as little face muscles as he could while talking, which resulted in Wen Kexing breaking out a strained chuckle, which sounded more like a choked grunt than anything else.
“‘Cause you’re cute.”
Zhou Zishu only rolled his eyes in response as he decided to continue reading the novel from where he had left it off this afternoon, it’s kinda shit but i’m in a little bit too deep to back out now he says, whilst Wen Kexing decided to seek entertainment by torturing poor A’xiang and Zhang Chengling in their shared group chat, casually checking his other unread messages while he’s at it as well.
Me: chengling!!!!!!!!!
Me: a xiang !!!!!!!!!!!
Little brat: ??
Me: hey!!!!! its like,,, ten p.m. why aren’t u asleep yet?????
Little brat: i would be omw to dreamland rn if u didn’t just ruin my wonderful journey, dear father of mine
Me: excuse me mister
Me: i dont think u should speak to ur incredible and wonderful father like that
Me: i taught u better than this u brat
Little brat: lol i don’t think the phrase “taught u better” exist in ur dictionary
Little brat: not when u only know how to humiliate urself by being an absolute gay disaster
Disowned sister: period speak ur truth chengling
Me: i did not raise u guys just to be slandered like this!!!!!!!!
Disowned sister: sounds fake but ok
Me: *gasp*
Me: how dare u!
Little brat: truth hurts :/
Disowned sister: pro tip: therapy is expensive but “it rlly do be like that sometimes” is free :D
Me: …
Me: …
Me: *silently takes notes* thanks… i guess :”)
Little brat: pretty sure there’s like 5 mins left to ur face mask time
Little brat: pls go bother some1 else
Little brat: goodnight
Disowned sister: imma go too
Disowned sister: bye bye
Disowned sister: also before u ask, no. i dont miss u at all.
Disowned sister: goodnight
Disowned sister: u r very welcome btw
Me: …
Me: :,(
Me: it really do be ur own family huh
Me: i love u guys
Me: sleep well <3<3<3
Disowned sister: …
Disowned sister: love u too ge
Little brat: sigh
Little brat: l*ve u too or wtv
Me: i-
Me: u guys r so mean
Me: goodnight <3
“Lao Wen, I think it’s time to remove our face masks.”
“Huh?” Wen Kexing slightly startled as he looked up from his phone. “Oh, right. Okay. Let’s go, then.”
They slowly made their way to the bathroom, throwing away the used face mask as they slowly dab their damp faces with dry towels.
Wen Kexing finished first as he exited the bathroom to fetch his favourite raspberry-flavoured lip balm Zhou Zishu had conveniently taken out earlier without him realizing, the familiar rosy container seated in the middle of their slightly crowded dresser.
“A’xu,” Wen Kexing softly called out after he had smeared his lips with enough lip balm for two people. “C’mere and get your share of lip balm.”
On Wen Kexing’s defence, he had thought of this method completely by accident. It had started from one fateful night when he was applying some lip balm in front of this same dresser while thinking about ways as to how he could steal more kisses from his dearest A’xu. He knows that all he needed to do was ask, especially when it comes to the matter of kisses, but that isn’t quite fun, now is it? Then his brain decided to go big that night with its sudden supply of such an intellectual idea and here they are, doing the exact same thing every night that it had eventually eased to become a part of their nightly routine.
Wen Kexing was already sitting casually against the headboard by the time Zhou Zishu exited the bathroom, half-lidded eyes accompanied with a lopsided smile as he stretched his arms to pull the other man into his embrace, slightly chapped lips meeting glossy ones midway in a tender kiss. They had enough practice to know the technique of how to spread the lip balm evenly and solely keep it against their lips quite well, though the taste of raspberries still lingered against their tongue as it danced lazily with the minty aftertaste of toothpaste and something achingly sweet. Probably the remaining strawberry cheesecake we decided last minute to eat as a dessert after dinner, Wen Kexing guessed.
Zhou Zishu chuckled breathlessly as Wen Kexing pecked his lips several more times (“A’xu, I don’t think the lip balm has been spread evenly yet!”), arms stretching out to turn off the lamp perched on the nightstand behind him.
He let his hand wander aimlessly and eventually settled on the side of Wen Kexing’s face as he comfortably drowns himself into the mellow solace of his pillow, thumb instinctively caressing one of the wings to his lover’s accented cheekbones as he felt flushed fingers making heart patterns at the ghosts of where his spine ends.
“Goodnight, my sweet A’xu.”
Zhou Zishu let himself bask in the familiar, tender embrace of his lover, scorching fingertips tingling against the crevice of his exposed hips as the fading scent of raspberries and blueberries mingled in the air like intertwined stellars.
“Mm.” Zhou Zishu hummed from the crook of Wen Kexing’s neck. “Goodnight.”