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Wei Ying choked on her rice when Lan Zhan spilled the news.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Wei Ying asked, once Lan Zhan had plied her with water after her near-death experience.

“I said, ‘Will you come to Fanny Packer with me this Thursday?’” Lan Zhan repeated. “The lesbian club night at Dalston,” she added, just to be sure. She thought Wei Ying would have known Fanny Packer, but perhaps this event had escaped her notice.

“No, I know what Fanny Packer is, Nie Huaisang’s just started bartending at Dalston Superstore three nights a week.” Wei Ying said in a rush. “I meant what you said before that.”

What did she say beforehand?

Oh, right.

“It’s for Qin Su’s birthday,” Lan Zhan reiterated. Then she remembered the crucial point. “Also, I have decided to experiment with my sexuality.”

If you had asked a younger Lan Zhan where she thought she would meet her soulmate, the last answer she would have given was: in a dingy bathroom, at the King’s student union building in London, midnight on a Saturday for a queer club night.

There were a plethora of reasons for this. The most crucial reason was that a teenaged Lan Zhan had been desperate to leave London. Back then, she expected that she would have ended up in Oxford or Cambridge, or if not that, then at least St. Andrews or Durham, thinking that a place where you could bike from one end of the town to another within a half hour would grant her the space she craved. She hadn’t anticipated the mental dip that careened into a crash at the tail end of her first term, which meant that when Xichen drove her and her stuff back down from Oxford, she found herself unable to leave her brother’s spare bedroom after the six week break was up.

A year and many therapy sessions later, Lan Zhan lived a life which was a strange mix of the old and new. The Piccadilly line on which she had spent the entirety of her secondary years through was still a fixture of her life, except now instead of moving eastwards into the city, her route tended to go from north to south. The anonymous hum of the city, which used to be too much too loud, was still there, but after the deathly silence of Oxford, it had transformed itself into a comforting presence. Other parts were new: the large, new lecture halls at King’s, her growing roster of good falafel shops, Xichen’s gentle but firm insistence on bringing her to every social event that he attended.

It was the latter point which had Lan Zhan in the aforementioned dingy bathroom of the King’s student union bar on the night that she met Wei Ying. Lan Zhan had always favoured early mornings, a habit which had concretised itself into rule at Oxford when she read on a study blog that the most disciplined people got up at 4am every morning and went to bed by 9pm. That was how she had sidestepped the countless freshers activities when she first got to university, avoided the late night flat parties and all-nighter study sessions. But Xichen had asked so nicely, wanted her to meet his friends, and Lan Zhan had promised herself that this time would be different. So she steeled herself with an afternoon nap and promised herself she would at least try, just the once.

But trying was different from doing, which was why midnight on a Saturday night (Sunday now, technically) found Lan Zhan with her hands clenched around the white ceramic of the bathroom sink, trying to convince herself not to leave.

It wasn’t that the night had been going poorly; the opposite, in fact. The event was some inter-university QueerSoc fundraiser event, which Xichen had been planning for a few months now and had tried to make as inclusive as possible for everyone involved. Although he had been flitting between rooms the whole night, Xichen had made every effort to ensure Lan Zhan was comfortable: settling her with his friends early in the night in the quieter section of the student union, and checking in on her every forty-five minutes or so. The friends had been nice too – Lan Zhan stayed quiet most of it, but had enjoyed the comforting presence of Xichen’s friend Nie Mingjue, who she had met before and shared Lan Zhan’s aversion for small talk. For a while she felt normal, verging on sociable for the first time in recent memory.

Then Nie Mingjue’s brother showed up, sparkling in green and yellow glitter and demanding that they at least try to dance, I went into the effort to beg the DJ to put ABBA on because what kind of gay night is it without ABBA. Lan Zhan hadn’t thought too hard about it when she followed the rest of the group into the dance floor because she felt safe for once, felt safe as they huddled into a group and Nie Huaisang bullied his brother into doing the dance from Voulez-Vous. She had felt safe dancing amongst this group of colourful, beautiful people, felt her spine loosen a little as attempted her own modicum of a dance. She thought about how nice it was to feel good for once, and as soon as she did she felt panic rising from the bottom of her stomach.

Next thing she knew, Lan Zhan found herself standing in front of the mirror in the gender-neutral bathroom, trying to remember how to breathe. She didn’t know how she had gotten there. Underneath her the tap was running, but her hands were still dry. Okay. This she could handle. Unclenching her hands from the sides of the basin, Lan Zhan guided her wrists so they met the cold water from the tap, letting the sensation of the water calm her down slowly. Tried not to think about how she didn’t remember how she had gotten into the bathroom, why noticing that she was having a good time sent her into a spiral, tried not to think about anything at all.

Just as she had calmed down a little, the door to the bathroom swung open. Lan Zhan’s eyes flew open to meet the flushed expression of an incredibly pretty woman dressed in a long-sleeved mesh top and bright, red flares. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, strands sticking to her face suggesting she had been dancing back a moment before. The women’s eyes were bright, covered in dark red glitter and her plush mouth puckered in an o shape as she seemed to realise she had caught Lan Zhan in what must have been a compromising position.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just dying for a piss!” the girl said, unfreezing once she realised they were staring at each other through the mirror. She moved past Lan Zhan awkwardly – the bathroom was so much smaller with the presence of another person – and closed the door of the bathroom stall. Lan Zhan stayed silent, trying to give the woman some semblance of privacy as she relieved hersefl. Maybe the two of them could get through this encounter without saying anything more.

“So, gay panic, huh?” the girl said from behind the bathroom stall after a minute or so. Lan Zhan was caught off guard. The last thing on her mind at the moment was gay panic.

“I’m straight,” she responded, a little too sharply. She took her hands out from under the running tap.

“Ah! Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t assume–” the girl’s voice broke off for a second. “I meant my gay panic. I thought you had left and was just, you know, having a little lesbian crisis about how hot everyone is outside.”

This person was a very, very bad liar. The tap was still running. For some reason, Lan Zhan found this failed lie charming rather than irritating. It steadied her a little. Behind her, Lan Zhan heard more shuffling.

“Please feel free to ignore me because I’m really quite drunk at the moment – functional, good drunk, don’t worry, won’t puke on you any second – and I’m not sure you’re even there still, but I’m just. Have you seen everyone out there?” the woman said from the stall. “I thought I was the biggest gay in the world, that nothing could phase me anymore, but you know what? I’ve been destroyed. Everyone is gorgeous, and I am a weak, weak person and all it took was one ROSALÍA song to make me collapse under the weight of it all. I’m a bit overwhelmed right now. I cried just now because the couple in matching leather kissed on the dancefloor and looked so in love that it felt like a spiritual experience. Have you seen them yet?”

“No,” Lan Zhan found herself saying. “I’ve been with my… brother’s friends, mostly.”

“Ah, that’s right! Sangsang’s brother, right?” A flushing noise, and then the door swung open to reveal the woman once again. She stood by the washing basin just next to Lan Zhan’s, directing a grin at Lan Zhan as she washed her hands.

“I think I saw you earlier on when the ABBA song was on – not in like, a creepy stalker-y way, just that you were very pretty and Sangsang and you looked like you were having fun and it’s just nice to see people enjoying themselves and – I’m really going to stop talking now because none of this makes me sound any less weird. Have I mentioned I’m quite drunk?” The girl’s hand washing got more frantic as the sentence went on.

“You have.” Lan Zhan had to resist smiling at this girl who spoke too much. “It’s fine. I would let you know if I felt uncomfortable at all.”

“Oh, good. That means so much to me right now, so I hope you’re not just humouring me,” the woman said, ducking her head down for a second as she splashed water on her face and then turned the tap off. She stood up fully again, and Lan Zhan couldn’t help but notice the willowy arc of her body as it turned towards her. “And since you’ve listened to me expose myself like that, I feel like I should stop thinking of you as ‘bathroom stranger’ in my head. I’m Wei Ying. And you are?”

“Lan Zhan.”

“Well Lan Zhan, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Wei Ying extended out a hand to Lan Zhan. “Do you feel like seeing if the DJ will let us play Rina?”

Lan Zhan had really been thinking of calling it a night; she knew that Xichen would understand. But seeing Wei Ying’s outstretched hand, with her chipped nailpolish and creeping tattoo vines wrapped around her forearm, she couldn’t help but nod. Wei Ying’s grin broadened into a real smile as she took Lan Zhan’s hand gently and guided them back into the dancefloor. Their clasped hands grounded Lan Zhan even as the thrum of music and people grew louder, even as Wei Ying guided them through the throng of people and introduced her to her loud group of friends, even as she wheedled the DJ into playing Cherry for them.

Wei Ying’s lips came close to Lan Zhan’s ear once they were back in the middle of the dancefloor. “Just let me know if you feel uncomfortable at any point, okay? I can get us out of this space in thirty seconds any time you need. Promise.” Their hands were still entwined. Lan Zhan didn’t think about why her breath caught at the sound of Wei Ying’s voice because a moment later Wei Ying pulled away, eyes flashing as she struck a ridiculous pose. A wave of laughter burst from the group of friends, and then Lan Zhan stopped thinking at all as the opening trills of a song started to a roar of cheers.

One song bled into the next. There seemed to be no coherent genre to the songs being played: a bright summery pop song one minute, then a cheesy 80s number, and then something outrageous that Lan Zhan wasn’t familiar with but everyone in the club seemed to know the lyrics to. Lan Zhan let herself be pulled along by the music, let herself look at Wei Ying and her beautiful friends, let her body follow the movements of others until a sway became a dance and she found herself part of the electric hum of the dancefloor. Wei Ying never let go of her hand, would tighten it anytime Lan Zhan felt like she was getting too lost in the lights, and Lan Zhan felt herself drawing closer whenever Wei Ying laughed and made a funny comment.

The music transitioned to something with a dirtier beat, and the mood in the room shifted. Although Lan Zhan was sure the lights hadn’t changed, not really, the space seemed darker than it had before, more tightly packed. Wei Ying’s friends, who had previously been gathered together in one big circle, partnered off in twos and threes. Their previously upbeat dance moves turned into something of a grind, and Lan Zhan couldn’t keep her eyes off them as one of the friends – Wen Qing, she thought she had said – edged closer and closer to a tough looking woman in a pixie cut, smiling as she slowly curled her arms around the woman’s neck. They looked like something out of one of those art-house films Xichen liked to watch, moments before the scene would cut to a passionate sex scene.

Lan Zhan felt her ears getting hot at the sight.

“Sorry, my friends get like that when we go out,” Wei Ying said, a warm presence by her right side. She giggled. “I live with Wen Qing, and knowing her, I won’t see her back until tomorrow evening at the earliest. Possibly mid-next week, if all things go well. It’s good, you know? She hasn’t had much chance to let loose until recently.”

“I understand,” Lan Zhan breathed out, then realised that Wei Ying probably couldn’t hear her under all the noise and turned round, placed her free hand on Wei Ying’s hip as she leaned in and repeated the thought. “I understand. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to want to cut loose.” Her lips almost brushed at Wei Ying’s ear as she spoke, and Lan Zhan felt Wei Ying shudder. In a moment of boldness she asked Wei Ying, “Do you feel that way too?”

Realising that maybe she had overstepped her boundaries with someone she barely knew, Lan Zhan was about to step back to give them both more space when Wei Ying’s hand tightened in hers. Lan Zhan stilled, acutely aware of how close they stood to each other at the moment. Then Wei Ying spoke.

“Yeah, I feel that way all the time. It’s why I go out so much at the moment. Have to get the tension out somehow. And if it’s just dancing…” Was it just her imagination or did Wei Ying’s voice seem shakier than it had before? Lan Zhan leaned back to look at Wei Ying’s face, which was now tilted down slightly, a strand of her hair falling out of her ponytail. She unclasped their interlocked hands to tuck the strand of hair behind Wei Ying’s ear, and Wei Ying’s eyes darted back up to look at Lan Zhan’s.

“Show me.” Lan Zhan had meant to phrase it as a question, but it turned into more of a demand on the way out. One hand rested just behind Wei Ying’s ear, the other still placed on her hip. They probably looked like all the other pairs and trios on the dancefloor right now, Lan Zhan thought, and felt at ease with that idea. Perhaps it was because it made her feel like she belonged here. Wei Ying’s eyes gave her a searching gaze. Something in Lan Zhan’s expression must have given it away, how comfortable and at ease she was, because Wei Ying’s eyes went from earnest to teasing again. Wei Ying leaned in a little closer still and lifted her arms to rest around her shoulders.

“All good?” Wei Ying murumered as they began to sway to the beat gently. Too gently, in Lan Zhan’s opinion. She wanted to go all in, to dance the way everyone else was dancing in the room. Her right hand gripped Wei Ying’s hip a little tighter and she undulated a little, just to see how it felt. It felt daring, the way Lan Zhan could feel the warrmth of Wei Ying’s body as she rocked up. Wei Ying let out a breathy laugh, curling her hands properly around Lan Zhan’s neck as she did so. “More than fine, it seems,” Wei Ying said, rocking back into Lan Zhan a little herself. Lan Zhan wanted more. What exactly she wanted more of, she wasn’t sure: perhaps it was the feeling of touch and the way Wei Ying gave it out so freely, perhaps it was this sense of belonging in this room. Perhaps it was Wei Ying herself.

It had been so long since Lan Zhan had been close to anyone who wasn’t family. She wanted to hold on to this feeling forever.

“I would be more fine if you would stop going easy on me,” Lan Zhan said, rocking her hips back into Wei Ying’s, harder this time. “Show me how you would dance to let loose. Properly.” At this challenge, Wei Ying’s eyes flashed and seemed to grow even darker than they did before. She pulled Lan Zhan closer until their faces were barely two inches apart.

Wei Ying’s smile was more dangerous now, less sweet. “You’ll tell me if it gets too much.”

Lan Zhan moved her left hand from behind Wei Ying’s head and rested it on the other side of her hips. Tugged a little until their hips met. “That won’t be necessary, I’m sure.”

Then there were no more questions, no more hesitations. Wei Ying gave as good as her word, her loose dance moves becoming sinuous as they guided Lan Zhan along with the music. Lan Zhan let herself get into the moment, leaned into the brush of Wei Ying’s fingers against her nape, the feeling of Wei Ying’s hips grinding against hers as they shifted. Clearly whoever was in charge of the music was aware of the tension in the room, because when the first song finished there was no abrupt change in genre, only another song, just as dirty as the last, and then another, and then another, and another. There were so many points of contact between her and Wei Ying she could not quite tell where either of them started and ended. Lan Zhan felt like they had crawled under each other’s skin, but instead of feeling disquieted by that feeling, she only felt that it was right. Like this was meant to happen. It wasn’t just the dancing, Lan Zhan knew, but Wei Ying’s clever wit, kindness and tact that had eased Lan Zhan’s worries just half an hour ago, when she had been shaking in the bathroom, barely able to breathe. The way Wei Ying’s eyes met hers from time to time, promising to meet Lan Zhan’s challenge and to take her out of the space should she give any indication of discomfort.

Lan Zhan felt seen, stripped bare by this near stranger in this room filled with lights and noise and heat and the scent of sweat lingering. Lan Zhan found that she did not mind at all. Instead she focused on learning Wei Ying’s movements, learning to move her body in ways it had never done so before, registering the shifts in balance and the meeting of their two bodies so that they would touch at just the right moment.

But the high of the moment couldn’t last forever, and the music made its inevitable turn back to some cheesy banger – a request, if the whoops from the corner were any indication. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were jostled as people pushed to get back to the centre of the dancefloor, and to avoid the impending crowd, Wei Ying released her arms from around Lan Zhan’s neck, grabbed her hand and pulled them towards the side of the room.

“God, you’d think more than ten years of Toxic would be long enough to get it out of our system, but obviously not,” Wei Ying said with a laugh once she had steered them out of the way. They stood side by side now, holding hands but no longer wrapped together like they had been a minute before. The tension in the room was gone, replaced by a cheerful exuberance as people cheered a group of very intoxicated men doing a perfect replica of the dance from the music video, which was playing on the TV screen behind them. “Obviously not,” Lan Zhan agreed, still reeling from the shift in mood. She wanted to say something to Wei Ying but wasn’t sure what, just that there was a pressing importance to it and she needed to find precisely the right way to express what she had felt, was still feeling. As Lan Zhan tried to gather her thoughts, one of Wei Ying’s friends from earlier pushed through the crowd and into their spot in the corner, beaming when they saw Wei Ying.

“Wei Ying! I thought you might have left with that hot girl you came back with–” The woman cut off her sentence as she noticed Lan Zhan standing next to Wei Ying. “Oh, hi! I’m Qin Su. I think we saw each other earlier but didn’t get a chance to talk properly. And you are?”

“Lan Zhan,” Lan Zhan said.

“Xichen-ge’s sister, who I met in the bathroom earlier on and is straight. A straight person who is not interested in women,” Wei Ying added hurriedly. Lan Zhan thought it was a rather odd collection of thoughts to put together in an introduction.

“...Alright.” Qin Su gave Wei Ying an assessing gaze. “Well, Wen Qing told me to let you know she won’t be back tonight, and a bunch of us were thinking of heading out for kebab now. You’ll come, yeah, the both of you?”

Wei Ying darted an inquisitive glance at Lan Zhan. “Would you mind? I sort of skipped dinner tonight and now that I’m feeling less drunk, I could actually kill for a wrap.”

With the adrenaline from the dance floor wearing off, Lan Zhan felt tiredness seep into her body as well. Still, she wanted to spend more time with Wei Ying, so Lan Zhan tilted her head in acknowledgement and said, “I could go for some chips.”

After a quick farewell to Xichen, who seemed thrilled that Lan Zhan had made friends, thirty minutes of walking and two already closed kebab shops, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan found themselves sitting on a bench in Southwark. Qin Su and her friends – a petite person with a cute black beret by the name of Meng Yao, and a slightly snotty looking man called Zixuan – were sitting on an adjacent bench, and Lan Zhan picked at her chips as she watched Wei Ying wolf down a chicken kebab.

Wei Ying was a messy eater, the wrap almost falling apart in her fingers. Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying caught a stray drop of sauce on the side of the wrap with her tongue, licking a line back up to meet the top. Lan Zhan found it charming; found everything about Wei Ying charming, really, from her expressive hands that gesticulated wildly as they walked through Shoreditch to the way she offered Qin Su and Lan Zhan bites of her kebab while they were waiting for their own orders to come through. The way her words held doubled, tripled meanings, references that seemed to hold an inside joke for Wei Ying herself.

Lan Zhan wanted to learn all those inside jokes, to be invited into a shared language with Wei Ying.

“So I get that you’re a fresher at King’s, but what do you do outside of suffering through that European history module you were telling me about?” Wei Ying asked once she had finished the wrap.

Wei Ying had accidentally hit a sore spot for Lan Zhan, who asked herself that question most days of the week. For all that she was getting better, it was hard to say what she spent the rest of her time doing. There was evidence of the countless activities she had picked up under Xichen’s advice: fermented vegetables sitting in the fridge she half-remembered making, booklets of exhibitions she had gone to see and enjoyed but couldn’t quite remember the details of. Nothing definitive stood out except for her quiet walks around the city during the afternoon, when Lan Zhan would pick out a random tube station and spend an hour or two just seeing what she came across.

“I’m still figuring that out,” is what she said in the end. Wei Ying seemed to catch that there was a longer story there and nodded sympathetically.

“I get that. I spent my entire first semester holed up in my room; couldn’t even leave my bed half the time. I don’t think I would’ve made it through first year if it wasn’t for Huaisang and Wen Qing and the rest of them, dragging me out despite the fucking awful weather until I figured out what I wanted to do,” Wei Ying said. “My friends mean a lot to me.”

“It’s lovely, what you have with them,” said Lan Zhan and meant it.

“It really is,” Wei Ying responded with a small smile. “And hey, going out means I get to meet people like you. So worth it, right?”

Lan Zhan thought she recognised an invitation when she was given one.

“Right,” she said, returning Wei Ying’s smile.

In the distance, Qin Su and her friends were wrapping up their own conversations, and they stood up and made their way towards where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were seated.

“Zixuan’s feeling his hangover coming, so I think we’re going to catch the next night bus home. Do you want to tag along to the station? We’re headed back to Wood Green,” Qin Su said to both of them.

Wei Ying glanced over at Lan Zhan.

“I’m just by Finsbury Park, so that would work well,” said Lan Zhan, packing away the half-finished chips into her bag and standing up.

“I’m going to crash at Sangsang’s tonight, and he only lives ten minutes from the station. I’ll walk with you there?” Wei Ying offered. Everyone seemed happy with that plan, so they made their way through the dimmed lights until they reached the nearest bus depot.

Wei Ying lingered when the doors to the night bus opened, as Meng Yao and Qin Su hauled a whining Zixuan into one of the seats.

“So hey, it was really good meeting you tonight,” she said to Lan Zhan. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but I feel like… I just feel really comfortable with you already? Like I know you from somewhere else, even though that’s impossible because I remember the faces of everyone I meet.” Wei Ying shook her head a little. “Ugh, this is coming out all wrong. Point is: I’d like to be friends and hang out again if you’d be okay with that. But also if you’d like for this just to be a random drunk clubbing encounter that’s also completely fine and I respect that.”

“That’s not weird at all, and I’d like that,” said Lan Zhan, heart warming at the offer. “Let’s swap numbers?”

By the time Lan Zhan got home, she not only had Wei Ying’s number, but also the numbers of Qin Su, Meng Yao, and Zixuan, and an invite to Zixuan’s housewarming party the following week.

That night, Lan Zhan dreamt of long dark hair, laughter, bright lights, and glittery eyeshadow. She dreamt of moving freely as one part of a whole, dreamt of holding hands with someone as they walked into an art piece filled with glittering lights spanning an infinite distance all around her.

She woke up thinking about polka-dotted pumpkins and the feeling of someone’s breath by her ear.

“That’s Yayoi Kusama. I think the Tate announced they were going to do an exhibition of her work sometime in the summer. Did you want to go?” Xichen said when she mentioned the pumpkins over breakfast.

“Just wondering,” said Lan Zhan. When Xichen left for yoga class, she pulled up the Tate website. Sure enough, there was an announcement for a solo exhibition of Kusama’s works which opened in four months. She bought two tickets for a random Saturday afternoon, trying hard not to think about who the other person she could bring might be.

Just as she was about to set down her phone and do… something, a text notification popped up. Then another, and another, and another, and another. The messages read:

heyyyyy it’s wei ying from queersoc club nite!!!!!

tho u kno that bc we swapped deets

at least i hope we did stimes i txt too fast and fuck up the nos anyways hi lan zhan it is me

huaisang and i and some friends thinking of going to maughan to study if u wanna join in like 30? or more likely 60 bc sangsang slow

anyways no pressure but will be fun!!! snacks will be a thing

Lan Zhan didn’t tend to study well with other people, and her first instinct was to give her usual response when invited to group study sessions: thank you, i happen to be busy today, maybe another time? But then she thought about her Kusama tickets, and how warm Wei Ying and her friends had been yesterday, and how she really didn’t need to study at all today but perhaps it would be nice just to be in the company of others while the sun was still out.

So instead of giving her usual response Lan Zhan texted sounds good, will see you in an hour and spent too long fiddling with her jewelry. Put on three different combinations of rings before she settled on the first arrangement – three delicate silver bands, one for each member of her family – packed her bag with her laptop and a book, and made her way to the bus stop.

It seemed like London had finally given up on denying the arrival of spring. The air was crisp and the sky was startlingly clear of clouds, and as Lan Zhan walked she noticed the plants creeping up from the pavements, grass and budding flowers which suggested that in a few weeks’ time there would be bursts of colour appearing on her daily commute. Lan Zhan sat on the bus and watched the people on the street when they stopped at a traffic light, noticed a small girl in a bright red jacket with white spots with her two dads. The two men were smiling fondly at their daughter, who looked like she was trying to explain something as she alternated between pointing to the sky and doing a wooshing movement with her hands. Lan Zhan didn’t usually notice details like this when she travelled, caught in the haze of nothingness, but the clarity of the morning directed her attention outwards today.

Then the traffic lights changed again and the bus left the family behind, and Lan Zhan’s view turned into a flow of red brick houses that grew larger, then turned white, and then weren’t houses at all but the office buildings in the middle of the city. She got off at Fleet Street and was about to head into the university campus when she got a call.

“Hey, so I have some bad news and some good news,” said Wei Ying when Lan Zhan picked up. “The bad news is we got kicked out of Maughan after five minutes because we couldn’t stop talking. The good news is that we have a uni miracle on our hands, meaning that we’ve found a spot at The Shack – I know, right – and we’re settled in nicely now with coffees and food. We even managed to snag a section with electrical sockets!”

“That is good news,” said Lan Zhan, who had avoided The Shack like the plague for the past few months. “I’ll be there in five.”

It was clear where Wei Ying was seated by the time Lan Zhan got to the cafe; she only had to follow the sound of laughter coming from a corner of the room. Sat amongst the ugly leather sofas were Wei Ying and her friends – Qin Su and Huaisang amongst the faces she recognised, as well as a few others she recognised from the party but couldn’t name. Everyone looked different in casual clothing and under fluorescent light; a little tired looking, intimidating pleather and sequins swapped out for sweaters and loose trousers, but looking as comfortable with each other as they had been last night. Wei Ying had her arm slung around Huaisang and was laughing at something on his screen, but when she saw Lan Zhan approach them her expression brightened even further.

“Lan Zhan! You made it,” exclaimed Wei Ying as she stood up and scooted out of her spot to meet Lan Zhan. “Come, sit – Sangsang, fuck off and sit next to Zixuan – do you want a coffee? I was just about to get one myself.”

“You already had two cups of coffee at mine,” said Huaisang with an arched eyebrow, looking displeased with the idea of sitting next to a very hungover Zixuan. “Specifically because you said you weren’t going to spend more money at the cafe. Hi, Lan Zhan. Don’t mind us if we seem dead, we’re just trying to erase the memory of some very regrettable decisions from last night. Or at least everyone else is. I, for one, am very pleased with everything I did last night.”

“I spent most of the night puking up tequila shots thanks to you, Huaisang,” grumbled Zixuan beside him.

“Please, that was entirely your own doing when you said you could outdrink me,” Huaisang said. Zixuan’s frown deepened at that comment and he launched into a diatribe about how it wasn’t fair to base alcohol tolerance on tequila, how tequila was a particularly horrible kind of drink that just didn’t sit right, Huaisang, you should see how good I am with wine.

“Yeah, Zixuan’s going to go on for a while now,” said Wei Ying beside Lan Zhan. “So might as well get a drink. Do you want a cappuccino or something?”

“I don’t really drink coffee,” said Lan Zhan. “I’ve got my own tea for now.”

“Well that’s a relief, because those two coffees at Huaisang were strong and I think I would vibrate out of my skin if I actually had another one,” said Wei Ying, despite having said the opposite just a few seconds ago. “Let’s get you settled then, and maybe we’ll actually get some studying done at one of these sessions for once.”

Lan Zhan barely looked at her readings for the rest of the day, but she did get to know Wei Ying and her friends better. It turned out that Qin Su was a third year history student, and they shared their grievances about the first year modules (“it’s really going to be British empire shit until you get to the latter half of second year, so just grit your teeth through tutes until then,” Qin Su advised). Huaisang didn’t even go to King’s, but was a fashion jewellery student at UAL who had gotten tired of all his classmates and their uninspired attempts at transforming their diasporic trauma into coursework. Zixuan studied something boring that Lan Zhan forgot immediately. She got on best with Qingyang, who got tired of all the university talk very quickly but decided Lan Zhan was cool when she discovered that Lan Zhan had a background in Taekwondo.

“You’ve got to show me a couple moves sometime; I’ve been doing boxing mostly and a touch of Muay Thai but like, the defence style of Taekwondo is something I’ve been meaning to get into,” said Qingyang, leaning into a video that Lan Zhan had pulled up on her laptop.

“On the condition that you teach me a few techniques of your own,” Lan Zhan said, practically humming inside. She hadn’t stepped foot in a training centre since sixth form and remembered now how calming sparring could be.

Qingyang made them shake hands to formalise the agreement.

The half-hearted study session turned into a late lunch, and along with that a Huaisang-directed gossip session. Lan Zhan was barely able to keep up with the flurry of names that were being mentioned, but what she noticed was that everything was said in good spirit. There was talk of the upcoming janitor’s strike at LSE – Qingyang handed out flyers at that point – amongst talk of the Love Island castings and speculation about when Wen Qing was going to announce she was seriously involved with the anonymous woman from the night prior (the group was split between an announcement in four days and three years later). And then:

“Sorry, what did you just say?” Lan Zhan burst out in an uncharacteristically abrupt manner when she processed Huaisang’s comment from a few minutes ago. Huaisang stopped mid-sentence, looked at Lan Zhan.

“That we should all boycott Ru Paul’s Drag Race on the basis of his fracking empire, which is an indication that not all forms of queer representations are liberatory, much like my coursemate’s awful reinterpretation of the Absolut bottle?” Huaisang said, confused.

“No, before that. What you said about ge,” Lan Zhan said, wondering if she had misheard Huaisang.

“Oh. Ohhhhh,” Huaisang’s expression transformed into one of mischief. “I was just saying I don’t think it’ll be long before Xichen-ge and ge and his boyfriend get together properly. With some help, of course, but like. Soon.”

“Mingjue is gay?” Lan Zhan was floored. Mingjue was a frequent feature at their flat, but Lan Zhan had never picked up on anything between her brother and him except friendship. Of course sometimes he stayed over and Mingjue would help Xichen on his catastrophic attempts at baking, and now that she thought about it, there was that one time she came home to one of Xichen’s art-house films playing on the TV (something about very angry cowboys?) and the two of them seated on opposite sides of the sofa, looking disheveled. But. She hadn’t considered that Mingjue was gay. Just that they were very good friends. Best friends.

“Oh babe, he’s so gay he wouldn’t be able to find a straight line amongst a row of curved ones,” said Huaisang, sympathetically. “He also wears that rainbow tank top all the time. Didn’t that set off your gaydar?”

Lan Zhan remembered the tank top, but recalled thinking little of it. Against her best wishes, she thought now of that meme her brother liked to send, the one with the woman who went, ‘I feel like this year is really the year of realizing stuff.’

“Perhaps I am too straight to pick up on these things,” was what Lan Zhan offered.

Lan Zhan thought she caught a momentary flash of surprise from Huaisang’s face, but wasn’t sure because it quickly turned into an expression of joking indignation. “No such thing. You just haven’t learnt the Gay Laws yet. I’ll send you our manifesto and you’ll be up to speed in no time, regardless of your sexuality. Even Zixuan’s caught up now, bless his mostly-heterosexual soul.”

“Huaisang, stop trying to foist your erotica onto people under the premise of Gay Laws,” Wei Ying interjected for the first time in a while. She had been watching the conversation go on with a look of amusement in her eyes. “I know it’s your favourite way of making friends, but not everyone needs to know your exact sexual preferences in order to do so.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Wei Ying. The work just came to me in a spiritual encounter with the gay Sublime,” Huaisang insisted. Wei Ying just rolled her eyes at him and turned to Lan Zhan.

“It’s a 250-page document featuring every sex position you can think of and some you couldn’t under a very thinly disguised premise about a fashion jewellery student studying in Bristol,” Wei Ying explained. “It’s very well written, actually, really gorgeous stuff. Just. No one needs to know that much about Sangsang’s sex life.”

Lan Zhan thought for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t want to miss out on an encounter with the gay Sublime. That sounds like foundational material.”

Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan, trying to figure out if she was serious.

Qin Su cracked up, and the rest of the group followed.

The shape of Lan Zhan’s life changed after that, as it made space for the new people in her life. Qingyang’s offer to swap moves turned into weekly sparring sessions, when they joined a group of people with mixed martial arts skills who took turns demonstrating and practicing skills on each other. Qin Su and Lan Zhan found regular study partners in each other, Qin Su’s frenetic thesis writing helped by Lan Zhan’s absolute dedication to the Pomodoro system while Lan Zhan’s hatred of the first year curriculum was tempered by Qin Su’s tidbits of information that promised it would get better. Huaisang actually did send his erotica to Lan Zhan (with her consent), and although she could not make her way through more than ten pages of it, they had a very frank conversation about sex toys and couture fashion afterwards. That conversation resulted in a shopping trip, and Lan Zhan found herself an owner of a pretty blue dildo – with a strap, Huaisang promising that it was always good to own a dildo which came with a strap, just in case.

Lan Zhan took Huaisang’s advice about sex toys quite seriously, given his expertise.

But above all, there was Wei Ying and the ways that their lives intertwined with each other, a beautiful friendship quickly taking root. They weren’t attached at the hip, per say. Lan Zhan valued her time spent in her room alone, and the tube station trips still continued on days when she needed to leave the house but couldn’t stand the company of others. But Wei Ying had a way of welcoming Lan Zhan into her life that made Lan Zhan feel like she had been a part of it all along. They took bike trips around the city on Thursday afternoons, visited restaurants whose menus were too spicy for Lan Zhan to handle, waited for each other after lectures so they could eat their packed lunches together. Wei Ying cursed her way through the English grammar course, complaining about prescriptivist grammar even as she scored top marks in each assignment.

Lan Zhan’s favourite moments were when Wei Ying rehearsed her lesson plans for the elective she was taking on the pedagogy of second language acquisition. Wei Ying had a clear and warm way of introducing concepts, balancing humour and practical usage with ‘technical knowledge’ even as she rolled her eyes each time the term came up.

“I don’t know why the fuck someone would need to remember what a gerund is called, when you could just say that you should put an -ing anytime something is continuing to happen,” Wei Ying said as she shifted through her notes. “It’s not like it comes up when you use it in real life.”

“Some people might find it helpful, to have a term,” Lan Zhan countered. “I found it helpful to have a way of structuring my knowledge of modifiers when first learning English, given that modifiers are not embedded within a single unit of language in Chinese.”

Wei Ying paused at that. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of it this way.” She started scribbling in her notes. “Okay, maybe then it’d be better to come up with useful ways of correlating the terms to the things it does to a word.” Wei Ying was focused as she murmured to herself, trying to sound out mnemonics to memorize each term. Lan Zhan watched on, the bulk of her own studying cleared earlier in the day anyways.

When a reminder email came up about the Yayoi Kusama tickets, Lan Zhan wavered for a few days before deciding to ask Wei Ying. Wei Ying was thrilled, rambling endlessly about how she had been obsessed with Kusama in her first year of university. “People love the bright colours and her artistic persona as a tortured artist, but for me it’s the way she fights with her work, you know? The way she confronts her anxiety and fear in each work, turns hyperfocus and dissociation into a way of being with others even if she can’t be present herself. I don’t know if that’s what she means to do, but that’s what I got when I saw her work online. Also, she’s a total babe.”

“She’s ninety two, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said.

“Yeah, and gorgeous. Total MILF – no, GILF material,” Wei Ying replied.

On the day of the show, Lan Zhan switched out her earrings five times, before settling on the tiny studs that she wore on a daily basis. Fidgeted with her rings and thought about switching those out too, but instead forced herself out of her flat door ahead of time so she wouldn’t get stuck in front of the mirror for any longer. The pavement flowers had started blooming, little specks of yellow and purple that would turn into buttercups and dandelions when summer matured into itself. Lan Zhan did not think about why she was suddenly nervous about seeing Wei Ying when they met on almost a daily basis. Instead she tried to keep her thoughts fixed on the pavement flowers and how Xichen had told her as a child that if you put a buttercup underneath your chin and your chin reflected yellow, it meant that you liked butter.

When Lan Zhan got to the Tate, she found Wei Ying standing by the entrance facing the Thames. Wei Ying looked a little windswept as always, dressed in a long summer dress, patterned with purple flowers and vines which seemed to blend into her tattoos. She was frowning at her phone, lips pursed. Lan Zhan itched to smooth out the worry lines on Wei Ying’s forehead.

“Everything okay?” Lan Zhan said in lieu of a hello. Wei Ying looked up, and she tried to school her expression into a facsimile of a smile.

“Fine! All good, really excited to see some art,” Wei Ying said effusively. It would have worked, if Lan Zhan didn’t know her tells by now. Lan Zhan waited, knowing Wei Ying would cave in a second.

“Okay, so maybe I’m not completely on it today. Just… you know Wen Qing’s brother, Wen Ning?” Wei Ying asked. Lan Zhan tilted her head in acknowledgement. “He’s out on an action down in Dover today, something to do with stopping an immigration raid from going through. I know he’ll be fine, but,” Wei Ying paused, fidgeted with her sleeves as she looked down. “I’m his emergency contact if anything goes down, so I’ve just been checking the message feeds all morning in case anything pops up.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Lan Zhan brought her hand to Wei Ying’s elbow, looking carefully at her expression. Wei Ying looked back up at Lan Zhan, and relaxed a little now that they were closer.

“I’m just a worrier, Lan Zhan, but thanks for asking. Let’s see the Kusama, yeah? He’ll be done in the next few hours, so it’ll be good to keep my mind off things in the meantime.” Wei Ying let out a small but real smile now, then reached up to pull Lan Zhan’s hand down from her elbow and into her hand. Their hands remained clasped as they walked into the museum, up the escalators to the exhibit, and into the gallery space. Once they got to the exhibition Wei Ying seemed to relax further, hands no longer twitching to check her phone as she pulled them along to the first room with photographs of Kusama’s early works.

In the light, Lan Zhan noticed that Wei Ying’s hands were smaller than hers for the first time. Delicate, even, but strong, always bringing Lan Zhan back into the present even as the people and colours threatened to take her out of it on nights out.

Like now, as they entered the first room of mirrors with chandeliers stretching out in every distance. Wei Ying’s stream of talk dropped to a silence as soon as they entered. It seemed like everyone else in the room had the same idea, because there was only a quiet murmur of voices and careful shuffling around them as others made their way through the installation. On closer inspection, Lan Zhan realised there was only really a single chandelier there, grand and glittering and yet lonely, as if it had once been used to host parties and was now suspended in this room, forever caught up in infinite images of itself.

“Can we leave?” Wei Ying said all of a sudden. “Not the exhibit. Just this room. It’s. I don’t know. Can we go?”

“Of course,” Lan Zhan said. This time she was the one to pull Wei Ying gently, taking them out of the mirrored room and out into the safety of the white walls in the next space. When she looked back at Wei Ying, she caught her wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I reacted like that. I knew that one was going to be sad, I just… I didn’t know being in one of these rooms was going to feel that much,” Wei Ying said. “I know it’s the biggest cliche and Kusama is like, everyone’s favourite Instagram spot, but I just felt so sad in that room and I couldn’t bear it.”

Lan Zhan had felt that jolt of sadness too when she walked in, that tightness in her breath. But as soon as she had, she had kept her attention on Wei Ying’s hand held in hers, bony knuckles and roughened palms a contrast to their delicate appearance, and Lan Zhan had calmed down. Lan Zhan didn’t think she would have been able to handle the room either if she had been alone.

“I get it,” she said. “We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

Wei Ying shook her head. “No, I really really want to see the rest of this exhibition. With you, especially. Just give me a bit to read the placards and intellectualise the experience until I’m ready to be a person again?” Wei Ying had stopped crying now, eyes slightly red but looking better nonetheless.

Lan Zhan didn’t give a response, just guided them to the first photograph in this new room and the accompanying wall text.

“I think you mentioned this work when you were telling me about Kusama last night. The New York walking one. What were you saying about the sixties context of this piece?” Lan Zhan asked.

Wei Ying really was fine after that. The emotional release had done her a world of good, and her muted enthusiasm gave way to vibrant joy in the rooms that followed. When they entered the second infinity room this time, it was Lan Zhan who felt utterly overwhelmed, the multicoloured lights of the room bowling her over with a sense of deja vu.

Wei Ying laughed when she entered the room, looking around in amazement. She leaned right up to Lan Zhan’s ear, her ponytail just grazing the back of her shoulder. “Kind of feels like one of our club nights, right? Like how we met at that Queersoc night, with all the lights and the weird mass of body feelings thing.”

Lan Zhan gripped Wei Ying’s hand tighter in response. Wei Ying shifted so their fingers were interlocking, sweeping a thumb over one of Lan Zhan’s knuckles as she took it all in.

Speaking of the club nights.

They too had made their way into Lan Zhan’s life. With regularity.

In a world where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had not met in the bathroom, perhaps this would not have happened. Perhaps she would have sat at the back of the room with Xichen’s friends until they had been dragged out to dance and left after the appropriate farewells at 10:30pm that night. Perhaps she would have been asleep before midnight, oblivious to Huaisang’s ambitions to document every queer night in London. She would not have felt the heaving crowd on the dancefloor. She would not have learnt how good it felt to move, to touch, to introduce the concept of wanting into her body and grown into it.

But now it seemed impossible to conceive of a world where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had not met. Much like it seemed impossible to conceive of a world where Lan Zhan thought she would never understand the appeal of a party; thought she was too quiet, too studious, too serious to get sucked into the thrall of a night out. That past version of her had not known what trust was, the kind of trust between people that gave you the space to act without shame, the kind of trust that gave you a way of being with others.

Lan Zhan liked how she felt, who she was with others when she was dancing.

She particularly liked the way she was with Wei Ying when they were dancing.

It was not that Lan Zhan’s friendship with Wei Ying was fundamentally different in and outside of their club nights. Rather, it was as if certain facets of their relationship were heightened in these dimmed rooms with the thrumming of music, new parts coming out to fill in the gaps Wei Ying’s stream of conversation usually occupied.

Take touch, for instance. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan both thrived on touch in their everyday lives. Wei Ying’s need for touch was more visible in the way she reached for hugs and gave a million casual, affectionate touches to her friends on a daily basis. Lan Zhan’s need for touch was subtler: a guiding hand on the shoulder or waist, the way she would slide a pair of glasses onto someone’s face instead of handing them over when someone asked.

These tendencies came across in the way they danced with each other. Wei Ying was all flowy movements, her fingers playing with Lan Zhan’s earring or the hairs at the nape of her neck where it was shorn short for her undercut. Or it was Lan Zhan, drawing Wei Ying in by the waist until they were pressed up close against each other, forming sinuous waves of movement. When Wei Ying’s attention would drift to the rest of the room – a nervous habit she had of checking to make sure everyone in the friend group was within sight – Lan Zhan would lean even closer and say, “They’re okay, Wei Ying. Everyone can take of themselves and each other. You can relax.” And in those moments Wei Ying would sink even further into Lan Zhan’s hold, resting her head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder so she could feel the slight puff of breath as they kept moving.

Sometimes, Lan Zhan would look at Wei Ying to find Wei Ying’s gaze already fixed on her. Wei Ying’s eyes always looked darker then, matched the feelings of want Lan Zhan had discovered in herself lately but hadn’t found a source for. It was an ambiguous feeling, this wanting, like the glint in someone’s eye when they sought the attention of others but didn’t know what kind of response they wanted to garner. But Wei Ying’s gaze was only there for a second, quick enough for Lan Zhan to notice but not long enough for her to unpack the way it made something in her stomach stir. Before she could think about it anymore, Wei Ying would contort her face into a funny expression or start commenting on the choice of music, and the moment was not lost, precisely, but diverted. Lan Zhan’s desire for something would run along the edges of her body and although she didn’t know what it meant, she was happy to let it remain as it was for now.

She was so close to Wei Ying, physically and emotionally. If she wanted more it was just because she was not used to having so much, not used to the intimacy of friendship and having someone other than her brother and uncle to lean on.

There was one confusing incident, however.

It was a party hosted by one of Qingyang’s friends late in the summer, a fundraiser for a renters’ union that was looking to hire full-time caseworkers to support their work. The music had been uncharacteristically good all night long, and Lan Zhan was feeling tired but happy as the night winded down. Wei Ying had been even touchier than usual all night, plastered onto the back of Lan Zhan as they weaved their way out of the crowd and onto the street.

Lan Zhan felt a quick tap on her shoulder and she turned back to face a group of teenagers. They were all dressed in what could only be described as ‘the idea of punk’, their shiny, matching Doc Martens betraying their age and inexperience. The girl who had tapped her on the shoulder waved, excited and more than a little drunk.

“Hi, sorry to bother you! We just saw you two dancing earlier tonight and wanted to say that you have incredible outfits. Like, the cutest couple ‘fits we’ve ever seen,” said the girl with a bright American accent. Sixth form students then, probably here on some study abroad program. That explained the shoes.

“Thank you?” said Lan Zhan, unsure how to explain they were not dating. She felt a little uncomfortable, mostly from the excessive excitement of the teenagers, and some residual embarrassment from the concept of being perceived in general, although she had largely shaken that off.

“Zizhen, I told you we can’t just go around complimenting people here. British people feel weird when you tell them nice things out of the blue,” hissed one of the other teenagers, dressed in a horrendous neon yellow combination. He looked at Wei Ying and Lan Zhan apologetically. “Sorry, we’ll go now, ignore us, thanks for keeping it gay and cool. Peace.”

And then the teenagers moved down the street and away from the party, too loud for their own good. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan watched them go.

“So. Uh. That was pretty funny,” Wei Ying said once the teenagers had turned the corner and disappeared into the night. She had unpeeled herself from Lan Zhan’s back and was now standing under the streetlight, face slightly shadowed by the direct light.

“Underaged Americans? I suppose,” replied Lan Zhan. There was a slight chill in the air, this late at night.

“Yeah, that was a real riot, hilarious stuff,” said Wei Ying carelessly. “I meant just that it’s funny how we seem, you know, like we’re such good friends that we could be a couple.”

Lan Zhan didn’t get it. Was a little irritated, actually, at the idea that Wei Ying would find their friendship funny. “I don’t see what’s odd about people making assumptions about how close we are, even if they misunderstand the nature of our relationship. I’ve told you before that I would marry you in a heartbeat,” she said.

“Yes, but that’s not real, that’s just us fucking around, right? Like when we say we’re going to run off into the Highlands and start a sheep commune, or when I make us do the Rule 63 game. Besties shit. I don’t even believe in the institution of marriage, anyways, ” Wei Ying responded, her eyes not meeting Lan Zhan’s.

Wei Ying had indeed spent hours talking about how she thought marriage was just a piece of paper, how it was nice that gay marriage was legal now but that it was a shame some people seemed to think that was end point of queer liberation. But she had always made a point to tell Lan Zhan that was why their lavender marriage would be perfect, that they could be married and reap the benefits while fucking with the man, Lan Zhan, the man. She tried pointing that out to Wei Ying.

“That’s not the point, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, and Lan Zhan wondered what the point of this conversation was at all, how the night had gone from sweet to hostile so quickly. Wondered why her skin crawled at the idea that Wei Ying would consider marriage between the two of them a joke, even a hypothetical and platonic one. “My point is just that it’s funny, you know, I’m so gay I’ve broken through the ‘gal pals’ situation so hard that people think I’m dating my straight friends,” explained Wei Ying. “Ha ha. Lesbian badge for me.”

“Surely your friendships are queer too,” Lan Zan said, thinking about something Huaisang had said a while back. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but having straight friends doesn’t change that.” Something felt off about being excluded from Wei Ying’s definition of queerness, felt wrong in ways that weren’t just about Lan Zhan’s desire to belong. She felt compelled to push the point.

Wei Ying groaned. “Yeah, I know, queerness is lived experience and all that. That’s not what I’m saying.” She leaned back against the lamppost and tilted her head back until it met the grey metallic of the pole and closed her eyes. “I’m just thinking about how the lines between different kinds of love can be so blurred, that it’s hard to make out when one kind of love becomes a different one altogether. Whether it’s even useful to categorise all these different kinds of love as if they’re separatable, rather than just a massive blob of feelings. How that mass of feelings can be so visible, even when you think you’re doing a good job at keeping it all in and processing it.”

Wei Ying did that sometimes, would bring in abstract metaphors when she wanted to talk about something specific but couldn’t bring herself to give the context.

“Maybe it’s okay to just let yourself feel whatever you have to,” Lan Zhan insisted. Wei Ying hummed, then opened her eyes a little to look at Lan Zhan for the first time since they had started this conversation. Blinked slowly.

“And what if you impose your emotions onto others when you let yourself do that?” Wei Ying asked softly. “Emotions they didn’t ask for? What if they’re so big that you know as soon as you let them out, they’ll drown everything out?”

They weren’t talking about jokes anymore. They had never been talking about jokes.

“Then trust that those around you can handle it. That they’ll set their boundaries if they need to,” Lan Zhan responded. That was what these nights were about, weren’t they? That was what they were about, the implicit trust held between her and Wei Ying and all of the rest of their friends.

“And that’s so easy to do in practice is it, Lan Zhan? When have you ever verbalised a boundary with me, let alone anyone else?” Wei Ying snapped back.

“That’s –” Lan Zhan started a sentence and faltered. That’s because you’ve always been so careful with me that I’ve never had to set any boundaries, she thought. Because usually I’ve left by the time anyone can even get to a point of crossing my boundaries, and you make me feel so safe I don’t feel like hiding myself away anymore. “That’s different,” she said, feeling her ears go hot. “We’re different.”

Wei Ying let out a bark of laughter which echoed out into the road. The crowd had thinned at this point, only a few people left on the pavement as they smoked their end-of-party cigarettes. “That’s true,” she said wryly. For the first time in ages, Lan Zhan felt like Wei Ying was speaking in her own personal language again, the one where she kept jokes only for herself. But she wasn’t sure how to ask Wei Ying to explain, especially when she couldn’t quite pinpoint what this whole conversation had been about in the first place.

“Hey Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, after a moment. “Have you ever met a guy who you've just wanted to be with, any way they’d have you? Whatever form that would take.”

“No man has ever made me feel like that,” Lan Zhan said reflexively. Frowned when she thought about what Wei Ying might be saying between the lines. Perhaps this was what had Wei Ying so bothered, someone she had met had made her feel so insecure. “And I don’t think anyone, guy or otherwise, should make anyone they know feel that way. Is there someone hurting you like that?”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re so good. But it’s not them,” Wei Ying said. “It’s me. And you don’t always get to choose how you feel, like you said.”

Wei Ying felt so far away from Lan Zhan, standing alone under the lamppost like that. It was silly, given they were standing only a few feet away from each other, but Lan Zhan already missed Wei Ying.

“Besides,” Wei Ying continued. “I don’t mind it. I really, really don’t.” Her head darted to the floor, a shy smile appearing on her face. Then Wei Ying pushed herself off from the lamppost and walked the few steps it took to get within arm’s reach of Lan Zhan again. She slid an arm into Lan Zhan’s and let her smile grow warm. “Let’s find the others? I’m sure they’re waiting for us.”

Lan Zhan thought about that incident for a long while afterwards. Thought about what she had said.

No man has ever made me feel that way.

And that was true, wasn’t it? Lan Zhan thought about the one person she had had sex with; a sweet, unassuming boy by the name of Kuosheng. They had met at some language program in Taiwan, and Lan Zhan had thought she might as well get having sex over and done with since he seemed nice enough. And it had been nice, if a little boring and sticky with the heat of the summer.

Lan Zhan hadn’t thought of Kuosheng for years. Certainly she had never thought of wanting him in any way he would have her. There had been nobody else in the intervening years, nobody that had caught Lan Zhan’s interest enough for her to ever try for sex again.

But it wouldn’t be true to say no one has ever made you feel like what Wei Ying described, would it? a quiet voice whispered. There’s a reason you said it the way you did, a reason that took the form of your audience that night.

Lan Zhan had always called herself straight. That had been a matter of convenience: a lot of people were straight, and she had never felt that urgent sense of wrongness that Xichen had in his teenage years when he kissed a girl and felt disgusted by it. Lan Zhan had kissed several boys and found it mostly pleasant, and assumed that the lack of revulsion was a sure enough sign that she liked men.

But now Lan Zhan thought of the way she found herself wanting to be around Wei Ying even when they were doing nothing at all. She found herself smiling when Wei Ying sent her a thread of texts complaining about everything and nothing in particular. Lan Zhan thought about the bundles of desire that had been growing ever since she started going out dancing. About the way that lately, these bundles seem to circulate around the idea of a smaller body pressed against hers, long hair brushing against her cheek, a teasing smile.

And if she thought back a little more closely, Lan Zhan got the creeping sense that these feelings, though larger than they had ever felt before, were not entirely unfamiliar.

Some things demanded reconsideration.

“Sangsang didn’t put you up to this, did he? I know he keeps on saying that heterosexuality is fake, but he means that metaphorically, not literally,” Wei Ying said after Lan Zhan told her that she was planning on experimenting with her sexuality.

Wei Ying took another sip of water. Then paused, and took a big gulp.

“Huaisang and I did talk about it. But I initiated that conversation,” Lan Zhan replied.

She decided to leave out the fact that Huaisang had offered to let Lan Zhan peg him, then changed his mind five seconds later on the basis that ‘actually, the Gay Sublime is telling me we would have awful chemistry, and that’s not because you just gave me the least enthusiastic response to an offer of sex in my life thus far’.

“Well, okay, that’s great, then, Lan Zhan! I’m really happy for you,” said Wei Ying, sounding entirely genuine. “But why do you need me there to help you hook up with someone?”

Lan Zhan paused. She didn’t know how to explain how the bundles of desire had been growing inside her for the better part of the year, how they seemed most intense when Wei Ying and her were on the dancefloor. How somehow – and part of her knew this didn’t make any sense – Lan Zhan needed Wei Ying there to ground her as she tried to figure out what parts of it was about desire in general, and what parts of it were for Wei Ying, whatever shape that took.

And if it was for Wei Ying, what Lan Zhan’s desire meant for their relationship.

Wei Ying picked up on Lan Zhan’s complicated expression anda sneaky grin emerged on her face. “Oh, I get it. You’re looking for a wingman, aren’t you? Wingwoman. Wingperson. Whatever. Well no fear, Lan Zhan, I’ll be your lesbian guide for the night, steering you to what may or may not be a sexual awakening but will hopefully end in at least one orgasm.”

Wei Ying was ridiculous. Lan Zhan wanted to listen to her talk forever.

“A guide,” Lan Zhan agreed, because she didn’t know what else to call the situation. Didn’t want to put any expectations on the night, or on Wei Ying, or on what would transpire.

The topic of conversation moved on quickly – Lan Zhan wanted advice on what to get Qin Su for her birthday, and Wei Ying was happy to compare notes. But in the days leading up to the event. Wei Ying’s attention seemed fixed on the Fanny Packer night, dropping small mentions of it into their daily conversations. Wei Ying took her role of wingperson incredibly seriously, seeming even more invested in the process than Lan Zhan was, for all that it was her idea.

Hours before they were set to go out for Fanny Packer Thursday, the doorbell rang at Lan Zhan’s flat. Lan Zhan opened the door to find Wei Ying, holding a tote bag full of clothes in her arms.

“You’re here early,” Lan Zhan commented. “Weren’t you going to pregame at Huaisang’s first?”

“Decided to take the night sober. In solidarity and all that,” Wei Ying responded. “Also, I thought I could come and help you pick out an outfit. A gay one.”

Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying flatly. “You tell me that my outfits are incredibly gay every week.” Then she caught the jittery way Wei Ying was holding herself and softened. “Have you eaten? I’ve got leftovers from tonight’s dinner.”

Wei Ying curled herself up into a ball on Lan Zhan’s sofa while Lan Zhan heated up the moussaka Xichen had made for dinner in the oven. She fiddled with the dials a little, then made two cups of rice tea. She sat down on the chair facing Wei Ying and handed her the other cup of tea and watched as Wei Ying took careful sips of it.

There was a lot that they had to say to each other, Lan Zhan thought as they sat in silence. They had been riding on the ability to read between the lines, interpreting each other’s nonverbal signals for a long time, and Lan Zhan was grateful for that. Grateful for the way that Wei Ying was able to fill in the gaps of her speech when she couldn’t find the order to put the words together herself. But there were some things that had to be said out loud, even if you still hadn’t figured out how to say it yet. Lan Zhan knew that the last few weeks had weighed on both of them, since that night at the fundraiser. She also knew that Wei Ying wouldn’t be the one to bring it up.

Wei Ying was just that kind of person.

After tonight, Lan Zhan promised to herself. After tonight, when she could at least name where her desire lived, she’d say something and let the consequences of those feelings unfold as they would.

They got ready in Lan Zhan’s bedroom. Lan Zhan looked through her wardrobe as Wei Ying pulled on her outfit for the night, a halter neck top in dark red and a short black vinyl skirt. Lan Zhan fingered over a thin black turtleneck, then took it out of the wardrobe. It would go well with the baggy black cargo trousers she had been favouring lately, a look Qingyang called ‘industrial, but make it fashion'.

Lan Zhan struggled with accessories, as always. Tonight it was the necklaces, and she found herself caught between a heavier, chain link piece and a series of delicate silver ones. Wei Ying wandered over to where she was standing by the mirror, presumably to do her makeup, and absentmindedly brushed over the chain link necklace in her left hand.

“Looks good,” Wei Ying said. “Plays nicely with the high neckline you’ve got going tonight. Frames it, yeah?”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan said, and put the chain link necklace on. She slipped the rings she wore everyday onto her fingers – they were the ones she always went with, anyways – and listened to Wei Ying hum along to a song she had put on the speakers, a melancholy tune about fireworks and memories and an anonymous man that the singer didn’t seem to love.

Before Lan Zhan knew it, they were heading out the door again, out into the cool breeze of the night. There were no more pavement flowers anymore, all plucked or dead after the long summer. It occurred to Lan Zhan that autumn was properly here now, which she could taste on her tongue and see in the hints of red in the trees around her. In a few weeks they would be back at school, and Wei Ying and their friends would be in their last year of university or at work, and that meant a gradual dwindling of their shared club nights. She could already see it, with how Zixuan had squirrelled himself away in a public defenders’ office job for the summer and Huaisang had gotten less enthused about his ambitions to be at every single queer night reachable by the tube or by bus, claiming that everything was gay anyways and the challenge of making it to every party was beyond him.

Lan Zhan found that she didn’t mind this change so much. They had found other ways of being with each other in the last few months, picnics and pub nights and grocery shopping trips beginning to supersede the time they spent going out or studying. Maybe she could try and host a dinner party at her and Xichen’s place sometime, get all of their friends to meet properly outside of society events.

But for now it was Fanny Packer night at Dalston Superstore for Qin Su’s birthday, and everyone had made it. As soon as Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were past the bouncers, they spotted Qingyang waving at them from a booth tucked away in the corner, down the checkered aisle. The whole friend group was squashed together in the booth, drinks in hand, Qin Su and Huaisang debating heatedly about some recent indie film from Hong Kong about zombies.

“Everyone’s early today,” commented Wei Ying as she slid into the space Huaisang opened up for them at the end of the booth, followed by Lan Zhan.

“That’s because Sangsang thought you two might–” Zixuan was cut off by a sharp elbow to his stomach by Qingyang.

“That was all me,” Qin Su interrupted, smiling. “We just got started on pres and I thought, fuck it, it’s my birthday, might as well treat myself to a few drinks properly today.”

“As if I’d let you pay for your own drinks on your birthday,” Huaisang said. “Speaking of which. Your margarita is looking a little low. Fancy a top up? Or maybe... we could move to shots?”

“No! Presents before the birthday girl gets plastered,” said Wei Ying, handing a bag to Qin Su. Everyone else followed, Qingyang and Huaisang reaching over the table and nearly knocking Zixuan’s drink over as they tried to shove their presents onto Qin Su’s lap first. When it got to Lan Zhan’s turn, Qin Su’s smile broadened to a massive grin as she opened up a reader on critical historiographies of Southeast Asia that had been out of print for the last five years.

“Ugh, this is perfect, Lan Zhan. I’ve been looking for this for ages, since the start of the year even,” said Qin Su, touched. “You remembered. Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” said Lan Zhan, but couldn’t suppress a small smile coming through.

At some point Huaisang disappeared and returned with a row of shots, all with fancy sugar decorations on the side. He handed one to each of them, although Lan Zhan noted that there was an extra sprig of rosemary on the side of her and Wei Ying’s glasses.

“To Qin Su,” Huaisang toasted. “We all love you so fucking much it disgusts me.”

They drank to that, Lan Zhan tasting citrus mixed with something faintly bitter as the shot poured down her throat. It was very Huaisang, bright and full of complexities and hidden references.

“Good, right?” Huaisang looked pleased when Lan Zhan finished her drink. “It’s something new I’m testing, orange zest infused with a distilled essence of that tea that you always carry around with you on our study sessions.” He rolled his eyes. “Their mocktail selection is incredibly uninspired. I had to do something about it once I started working here.”

Before Lan Zhan could gather a response, Huaisang was getting pulled away by Qin Su, who demanded they all get on the dance floor before she got too drunk to enjoy it. The rest of the group followed, edging past the room which had gotten busier in the hour they had been chatting, down the stairs, and past another door, which opened up into an underground dance floor.

Lan Zhan swallowed a breath as Wei Ying pushed the door open and the thumping noise of music playing became clear. Wei Ying glanced back, questioning.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know? I know I made all that fuss about being a wingperson, but it’s up to you, really,” Wei Ying said.

Lan Zhan shook her head. “No, I want to. Just.” She paused. “Can we dance together first? Like we always do?”

Wei Ying smiled, warm as always. “Of course. Anything for you, Lan Zhan.”

And this time it was Lan Zhan who stepped close up close to Wei Ying, Lan Zhan who took Wei Ying’s hands in hers and interlaced them together.

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan said. She took a deep breath. “You know, you’re–”

“Don’t be silly, Lan Zhan, of course I know,” Wei Ying said, cutting her off, and Lan Zhan felt frustrated and fond all at once. Because on the one hand, Wei Ying had an uncanny ability to know some things about Lan Zhan better than she knew them herself. On the other hand, this meant that the bundle of emotions continued to go unspoken, without knowing whether they were the same or understood properly between the two of them.

And maybe it was okay that it had gone unspoken so far, because Lan Zhan understood that once they could speak about it they would figure it out, whatever it was. Things took time to figure out, needed to unfold naturally without rushing through the process. Wei Ying did know her at the core and Lan Zhan knew Wei Ying in turn, and the differences that might come up when they did vocalise it would be something they could work through together. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying would find their way back onto the same page.

“Of course you know,” Lan Zhan repeated, searching Wei Ying’s eyes for understanding only to find something more conflicted, perhaps even a flash of hurt.

“I do. Now, let’s go and dance, hmm?” Wei Ying said. She didn’t wait for an answer, turning to face the dance floor instead and heading into the throng of bodies.

So even though she was bothered by the interaction, Lan Zhan let her prior sentence remain unfinished, let herself be engulfed by the music and warmth of the room and the feeling of people all around her as they entered the room, watched the strobing lights flit across people dancing as they made their way to the centre, past where Qin Su and Zixuan and the rest of them were. Into the heart of the dancefloor.

Anything for you, Lan Zhan. Those words echoed in Lan Zhan’s head, a statement that seemed to cut at her despite how sweet the words were.

Wei Ying was wired tonight. Usually, Wei Ying was all twisting arms and laughter that radiated energy out to the rest of the room, even as they held each other. Tonight, Wei Ying’s energy was directed only at Lan Zhan, seen in the sharpness of her gaze, the way she was the one to pull Lan Zhan in by the waist, let them trail up Lan Zhan’s back as they danced closer, dirtier than they had before. It was a shift in dynamic for the two of them; previously, Wei Ying always let Lan Zhan have control over the situation, let Lan Zhan dictate when their playful dancing turned sensual, was always the one to let herself unravel first and lose herself into the music. Wei Ying’s yielding nature was itself a guide, a way that Lan Zhan could let herself unravel as well and take what she wanted. What she needed.

Now, Wei Ying danced like she was taking what she wanted. No, that wasn’t quite right. Wei Ying danced like someone who was about to lose what they had, hands fluttering up and down Lan Zhan’s sides as if they were trying to map out her body. She was dancing like someone who was giving up something they cherished and had allowed themselves one final chance to memorise the details of it as best as they could. Lan Zhan felt like she was drowning under Wei Ying’s gaze, under Wei Ying’s touch, the way she rolled her hips against Lan Zhan’s thigh and met her with that same, dangerous smile that she had had the first time they danced together. Let that smile turn into a smirk when her gaze slid over to the group of people next to them, as if to say you don’t have what we have with each other.

Wei Ying was showing Lan Zhan off, she realised. Their dancing was no longer just for them but for those around them as well, actively encouraging the gaze and envy of others. Wei Ying trailed her hands up to rest at the nape of Lan Zhan’s neck again, her arms framing the space between the two of them. Wei Ying tossed her head back and laughed, and this time it was not sweet and bright as it usually was but a little dark, a little hoarse. As if Lan Zhan was not in on the joke but still part of it, part of Wei Ying’s joke that she directed out into the world but kept the punchline to herself.

And then Wei Ying was back, leaning into Lan Zhan’s space, moving closer until her breasts pressed up against Lan Zhan’s. There was still laughter in her eyes as she pulled Lan Zhan closer until they leaned into each other, close enough to kiss. Their cheeks touched before Wei Ying ducked her face to one side so she could speak into Lan Zhan’s ear.

“You don’t need my help, you know?” Wei Ying said, and her voice was still sweet but there was tension simmering beneath the surface, dark and a little unsteady. It didn’t match the humour in her eyes that Lan Zhan had seen just a second before. “Do you know how gorgeous you are, Lan Zhan? You could make eye contact with anyone in this room and they’d go home with you in a heartbeat. You wouldn’t even have to try.”

Wei Ying was everywhere: the faint scent of her shampoo, her voice in Lan Zhan’s ear, the way her waist felt, held tight in Lan Zhan’s hands, the press of her chest against Lan Zhan’s body, her arms wrapped close around her neck. Lan Zhan wanted to say something – anything – but found it hard to form words as Wei Ying tilted her head and her lips grazed the tip of Lan Zhan’s earlobe.

“And that’s not all,” Wei Ying continued. By now their movements couldn’t even be described as dancing so much as they were an approximation of fucking. “You’re so good, Lan Zhan, is the thing. You’re thoughtful and wickedly smart, and you pay attention to people and make them feel seen. Do you know how much happier everyone has been since you’ve been around? Huaisang was about to drop out of uni when you met him, Lan Zhan, was about to give up his brilliant mind and fuck it all for nothing. And then you had that talk with him about how it was okay to let yourself be earnest about what you loved, and then he went and cried about it and finished a whole year of coursework in two weeks. Did you know that?”

Lan Zhan hadn’t known that. She barely even recalled the conversation, only that they had spoken of something of the sort on one of her and Huaisang’s numerous trips to the V&A Museum.

“So they wouldn’t like you just because you’re hot,” Wei Ying said, her tone more urgent. “And who knows if you’ll like the sex, but I think there’s a good chance you will. But it wouldn’t be just about the sex, because anyone whose met you properly will see how wonderful you are and would want to keep you. They would want to be part of your life; they would want you to have them anyway you would want them. Because you’re wonderful, Lan Zhan, you really are, and I need you to know that.”

They would want you to have them anyway you would want them. And everything started to come together: their heated conversation at the fundraiser, the way they had met and couldn’t seem to help but to gravitate towards each other ever since, Wei Ying’s lingering touches and Lan Zhan’s desire for more, more, more. The strange interaction they had had right before they entered this room. Lan Zhan felt things clicking into place one by one.

She wanted Wei Ying any way Wei Ying would have her. She wanted Wei Ying as her best friend. She wanted to take care of Wei Ying and be taken care of by Wei Ying in turn. She wanted them to spend evenings together doing nothing at all. She wanted Wei Ying, pressed close to her on the dance floor, attention on her and nothing else, her enjoyment radiating out into the rest of the world. She wanted Wei Ying’s mouth, wanted Wei Ying’s hands, wanted to have Wei Ying unravel underneath her and to put her back together again.

And perhaps Wei Ying wanted her back that way too.

But before she could say anything Wei Ying was moving away, and Lan Zhan didn’t want to let go before she had gotten the words out of her mouth but Wei Ying was too quick, too decisive. Wei Ying unwound her hands from around Lan Zhan’s neck and Lan Zhan wanted to say no, don’t go before she felt Wei Ying’s hands on her shoulders and then she was being turned around to face the rest of the room. Wei Ying came up close behind her, looping her between her arms so they rested on Lan Zhan’s hips, lips pressed close to Lan Zhan’s neck.

“There’s someone who’s been watching you all night,” Wei Ying said, quieter this time. “Well, that’s a lie, everyone’s been watching you all night. Every night. But you see the person over there, with the red highlights? She can’t keep her eyes off you, and I think she’s going to make her way over any second now, now that I’ve made it clear you might be open to it.”

Lan Zhan made eye contact with the woman in question, who was dancing close by with her own set of friends. She had beautiful, short black hair interspersed with flashes of red, and was looking back at Lan Zhan and biting her lip slightly. Lan Zhan watched as she whispered something to her friend standing next to her, and they began to move closer and closer to where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were still dancing. Drew in closer still when Wei Ying made a welcoming gesture, and then they were dancing as a quartet. Wei Ying quietly slipped away from Lan Zhan’s side so she could make an effusive comment about the friend’s outfit, pulling them towards the bar as she complimented the design of the harness that the friend wore.

“Hey,” the woman with red highlights said, a coy smile at her lips as she moved into Lan Zhan’s space. She really was stunning, towering over Lan Zhan even, and it was a shame because in another context she really could have been the source of Lan Zhan’s sexual awakening. Or maybe it wouldn’t have been her, wouldn’t have been in a club at all, but one of the many other women Lan Zhan was realising that she had noticed previously throughout her life: A classmate from secondary school who wore elaborate, pretty braids every day. The barista from Oxford who had a buzzcut which changed colours every week and a killer smile.

Lan Zhan was realising that she had very, very little interest in men.

“I’m gay,” is what came out of Lan Zhan’s mouth, and for a minute she forgot the tension of the whole situation, embarrassed by the non-sequitor. The woman didn’t seem to mind, her smile turning into a pretty grin at Lan Zhan’s words.

“Well, I was hoping that would be the case,” the woman said with amusement. “I’ve been trying to flirt with you all night, although I understand if that’s been hard to pick up. ” She glanced over to where Wei Ying and her friend were still talking animatedly. Lan Zhan’s gaze followed, and she couldn’t help but linger on Wei Ying, who stood out even in the darkness of the room with her brilliance and the way she burned so brightly for the things she loved, for the people she loved.

Lan Zhan felt the desire in her stomach grow, and this time she knew who it was for. She turned back to the women standing in front of her.

“I figured it out about a minute ago,” she said. “I’m a lesbian. For my best friend.”

“Oh,” said the woman. “Oh.” And her smile turned from flirty to kind, to something understanding. “Well, what are you doing speaking to me, then? Go and talk to her.”

“I don’t know if she wants me back,” said Lan Zhan, feeling her chest tighten at the weight of the realisation. “We haven’t spoken about it.” She felt herself starting to panic again, the lights of the room starting to feel too bright. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name.”

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and it was the woman in front of her, leaning in so she could speak into Lan Zhan’s ear. “I go by Crimson here, but that’s not important right now. You’ll be okay. You should see the way she looks at you.” It was funny, how similar it was to the way Wei Ying touched her when they were on their nights out, but this felt entirely different. There was no tension between her and Crimson, but there was a similar thread of safety.

Maybe this was what Huaisang had meant when he talked about queer intimacy.

Lan Zhan pulled back from Crimson, blinked as the lights of the club faded back into something manageable. Crimson quirked her head towards where Wei Ying and the friend were still standing, her smile teasing now. Go on, her expression said. There’s nothing to fear here, not in this space.

Then Lan Zhan was turning and weaving her way through the crowd, making her way back to Wei Ying. Lan Zhan moved between couples kissing and a dance battle, between people with drinks in their hands bobbing to the music, to laughter and cheers, until Wei Ying was within arm’s reach, back turned to her. Lan Zhan hesitated for a second but it seemed like the friend noticed her, leaned in to say something to Wei Ying and then disappeared into the crowd. Wei Ying turned back, eyes bright, and her brow furrowed when she saw Lan Zhan standing right behind her.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asked, voice questioning.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan responded, moving in close, bringing her hands to meet Wei Ying’s waist.

“Is everything okay?” Wei Ying said as her arms automatically weaved between Lan Zhan’s to pull her close. “Did something happen between you and Crimson? Shit, do you need to get out of here, I can get you out of here as soon as you say the word.”

“No need,” Lan Zhan said, holding Wei Ying tight. “I just need Wei Ying.”

“You have me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said. “You have me, you have me, you have me.” They were locked in an embrace, barely swaying, and Lan Zhan felt like she was entirely present as Wei Ying brushed a thumb against her back in a comforting gesture.

Yet there was still something that wasn’t clear between the two of them, and now Lan Zhan just needed to know. She pulled her right hand away from Wei Ying’s waist and lifted it up, up until her palm cupped Wei Ying’s jaw and tilted it up so they were making eye contact.

“Wei Ying, I need you,” Lan Zhan said, more firmly this time. “I want you. Do you want me too?”

“What do you mean, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying said, colour rising to her cheeks. “You have to tell me what you mean when you say you want me, because I don’t know how to answer that question correctly.” Wei Ying’s voice was shaky, nervous even, and Lan Zhan realised that their silence had been hurting Wei Ying. That wasn’t what she wanted. She never wanted Wei Ying to feel hurt, especially when it was about Lan Zhan’s feelings towards Wei Ying.

“I mean this,” Lan Zhan said, and leaned down to kiss Wei Ying. Wei Ying gasped when their mouths met, and her lips were soft, softer than any Lan Zhan had kissed before. She wanted to bite them, bruise Wei Ying’s lips until they were permanently swollen, and so she did, nipping at Wei Ying’s bottom lip. Wei Ying grabbed at Lan Zhan’s back, and then they were kissing, frantic and open mouthed and with a little too much teeth, and Lan Zhan wondered if she had ever really kissed before because this was something else entirely. It wasn’t pleasant, the way Lan Zhan and Wei Ying were kissing right now, but needy and hungry and full of feeling. Wei Ying’s hands were plastered against Lan Zhan’s back, Lan Zhan’s thigh slotted between Wei Ying’s legs, and Wei Ying made hitched sounds as they rocked into each other. Lan Zhan couldn’t hear the music anymore, not with the thudding thrum of her heart and the little noises Wei Ying was making as they kissed as she pulled them closer and closer together.

Lan Zhan wanted to hear the sounds she was drawing out from Wei Ying without distractions. But there were too many people, and for now she pulled her mouth away from Wei Ying’s lips and kissed the side of her jaw, tilting her head with the hand still cupped on the other side for better access. She wanted to taste every part of Wei Ying’s skin. Wei Ying moaned as Lan Zhan trailed a line from the side of the jaw down to Wei Ying’s neck, bit at the juncture where neck and shoulder met. Lan Zhan sucked at it until she was sure a bruise would form, and laved her tongue over the tender skin while Wei Ying whimpered. Then she was trailing her lips back up to Wei Ying’s mouth, not thinking about anything but Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying–

And then Wei Ying was drawing her hands away from Lan Zhan’s back, grasping her hands against Lan Zhan’s shirt and pulling them back slightly until there was a few inches of distance between the two of them. Their eyes met and Wei Ying looked destroyed, mouth red, hair and outfit completely disheveled. Lan Zhan grew horrified, struck by the idea that maybe Wei Ying didn’t want this, and began to unwrap her hands from Wei Ying and pull away when she was stopped mid-step, Wei Ying tugging her back with one hand on her shirt and the other at her wrist.

“No, you don’t just get to do that and leave,” Wei Ying hissed, and she was angry now. “You can’t just tell me you want me and ask me if I want me back, and then kiss me like that and then just – go. Not when I still don’t know what you mean by that.” Wei Ying’s eyes darted over the rest of the room, as if realising for the first time that they were in the presence of other people. Then she fixed her gaze back on Lan Zhan, and she didn’t look angry so much as defeated. Confused. “I can’t think here. We need to talk. Away from other people, somewhere we can get fresh air.”

Wei Ying didn’t wait for Lan Zhan to answer, instead turned away and walked into the crowd and out towards the door of the dancefloor, pausing quickly to say her goodbyes to Qin Su and the rest of their friends. Lan Zhan followed as they made their way up the stairs, retrieved their things from the coatroom, and walked out of Dalston Superstore and into the chill of the night.

Despite everything, Wei Ying didn’t let go of Lan Zhan’s hand the entire time.

Wei Ying kicked at the pavement once they were out on the street, a few feet away from the club. She hadn’t made eye contact with Lan Zhan once in the last five minutes, feet trained on the floor. In the background there was the muted beat of music, the chattering of people outside waiting, and the faint wail of an ambulance making its way through the streets somewhere.

“To be clear, I really, really wanted you to kiss me,” Wei Ying said after a few minutes. “That’s not the problem here.”

“I really wanted to too,” Lan Zhan said. “More than you could believe.”

“It is more than I can believe, Lan Zhan, which is why I’m so–” Wei Ying cut herself off. Took a deep breath, and started again. “You’re straight. Or not?”

“Not. I’m gay,” said Lan Zhan, and everything aside, it felt so good to say that.

“Since when?” Wei Ying snapped, then cringed. “Sorry. That came out wrong. You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to imply you were hiding it.”

“Since always,” said Lan Zhan, and realised how that might be construed weirdly. “But I only figured it out just now.”

“Okay. Okay okay okay,” Wei Ying said, and now she drew her hand away from Lan Zhan, walked a few steps over and bent over, hands pressed onto her thighs as she stared at the pavement. “And what do you want from me?”

“I want you,” Lan Zhan said. “I want you, Wei Ying.” She hated how the words came out of her mouth, because they didn’t capture the fullness of what she had to say. It didn’t capture the way she meant I want the sheep commune life with you, Wei Ying, want to grow old with you and listen to your rambling day in and day out and I want to fuck you until you cry and put you back together again. She tried anyway. “I want to be able to kiss you like that every time we dance. To take you home afterwards and make you feel as good as you deserve. To wake up to you in the morning, and everyday after that. But it’s not just about what I want, Wei Ying. What do you want?”

Wei Ying was silent. Lan Zhan waited, and then she saw a droplet fall onto the ground where Wei Ying was leaning over. Then another, and another, and another.

Lan Zhan rushed to where Wei Ying was hunched over, wanting to provide comfort but unsure if it was welcome. But as soon as she crouched down, Wei Ying pulled Lan Zhan in by the arm and buried herself into Lan Zhan’s chest. They were holding each other in the middle of a grimy street, and all Lan Zhan could think was how lucky it was that she was going through this with Wei Ying, that whatever Wei Ying’s response was, they would hold each other through whatever needed to happen.

Then Wei Ying spoke, voice muffled slightly as she spoke into Lan Zhan’s chest, “I came out here with a whole plan, you know? I was going to tell you that I couldn’t be what you needed, because I gathered that you at least wanted to fuck me and I couldn’t fuck you and have it be a one-time thing. Not – not that people can’t do that, it’s just that I can’t with you, because of what you mean to me. I was meant to be setting boundaries, Lan Zhan. But now you tell me that you want everything I want, and how am I meant to deal with that? How can you just give me everything I want, like it’s mine for the taking?”

There was so much they still had to learn about each other, Lan Zhan thought. Like what happened on the times when Wei Ying would disappear for days on end, only to show up looking tired and stressed. Why Wei Ying had such difficulty accepting things that she wanted or needed, even when she was so generous with the needs of others. But embedded in Wei Ying’s words were also the confirmation that Lan Zhan needed, that they were on the same page, that her love for Wei Ying was in line with Wei Ying’s love for her. And knowing this, there were answers that she could give to Wei Ying’s questions.

“Because it’s freely offered,” is what Lan Zhan settled on. “Because it’s you. Because I love you.” Lan Zhan let that last sentence resonate with all the meanings it held for her and Wei Ying. She realised that she was crying too, streams of tears rolling down her face without her noticing. A drop fell on Wei Ying’s forehead, still buried in Lan Zhan’s arms, and Wei Ying lifted her head up to look at Lan Zhan. Wei Ying brought a hand up to wipe away the tears from her cheeks gently.

“I love you too. Obviously,” Wei Ying said, wiping away her own tears with the back of her hand. “In all the ways that matter and a few ways that don’t.”

“It all matters to me,” insisted Lan Zhan.

“Who knew you were such a sap, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying responded, but she was smiling in a way that said she liked it very much. “And to think, I thought you were a hot mean girl ready to ruin me when I first met you.”

“I could still do that,” said Lan Zhan, and felt her ears flush red at the boldness of her statement. Watched as Wei Ying bit her lip, a flush returned to her cheeks as her eyes grew darker.

“You could,” Wei Ying repeated. She paused for a moment, considering. “Lan Zhan. Take me home?”

They didn’t have to speak to know that when Wei Ying said take me home, she meant Lan Zhan’s flat. The bus from Dalston to Finsbury Park was surprisingly packed this late at night, a mixture of people returning from a night out, either going to or returning from work, and a small contingent of elderly people who seemed to find comfort in riding the bus aimlessly at night. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying stood close to each other on the aisles, their hands grazing in the space between them as they exchanged glances and casual conversation. The frantic energy from earlier in the night had faded into the background, turning into a pleasant tension which persisted through the ugly fluorescent lighting of the bus.

Then it was back the way they had come, back up the familiar street with no pavement flowers – but they would return in the spring, Lan Zhan thought, and then maybe she would pick a buttercup for Wei Ying and put it underneath her chin to see if it shone yellow. This street where they had walked dozens, if not hundreds of times by now, and yet was different every time with the passing of time . Wei Ying tucked herself into one side of Lan Zhan’s shoulder, complaining about the cold as Lan Zhan’s hands shook slightly when she unlocked the front door. They climbed up two flights of stairs, and then it was the blue door of Lan Zhan and Xichen’s flat facing both of them, made strange by what they knew was about to happen. Lan Zhan opened the door quietly for Wei Ying and let her in, both of them taking their shoes off as they entered.

Xichen was gone for the night, off on one of his ‘hangouts’ with Mingjue and Meng Yao. Xichen would probably tell Lan Zhan about their relationship eventually, she thought as she slipped her coat off and hung it on their coat rack, once he figured out he didn’t need to explain polyamory to Lan Zhan.

It was just Lan Zhan and Wei Ying in the darkened hall of the flat, and Lan Zhan didn’t know what to do next.

Wei Ying seemed to read Lan Zhan’s hesitancy and took charge, slipping her hand back into Lan Zhan’s and leading them into Lan Zhan’s bedroom. There were still traces of their presence there from a few hours before: Lan Zhan’s necklaces on her desk, Wei Ying’s clothes stuffed into her bag and tucked next to the nightstand, the wardrobe door still open so that the mirror hidden behind it could be seen. But she could only give these things her momentary attention before Wei Ying put a hand on her shoulder and sat Lan Zhan down on the bed, then shuffled onto the bed herself, knees folded and facing Lan Zhan.

They looked at each other, features half hidden as the light filtered in from the streetlight right outside Lan Zhan’s window. Wei Ying was so pretty, long lashes framing her wide eyes and plush lips that still seemed a little swollen from when they kissed earlier.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” Lan Zhan admitted.

“God, neither do I,” said Wei Ying, and the tension dissipated a little. “But maybe you could kiss me first and we see where it goes?”

So Lan Zhan lifted her hands until they cupped Wei Ying’s face and drew them into a kiss. A soft one, now that she knew they had time. Wei Ying opened up immediately, tilting her head so she could get a better angle. One of Wei Ying’s hands drifted up to play at the hair on the nape of Lan Zhan’s neck, her thumb shifting up to touch the spot behind Lan Zhan’s ear.

Wei Ying pulled away slightly and pouted. “You’re too far away, Lan Zhan.”

“Then you should come closer,” Lan Zhan said, giving Wei Ying a challenging look. Wei Ying smiled and shuffled over until she was pressed right beside Lan Zhan.

“Close enough?” Wei Ying asked, leaning in close to Lan Zhan’s face.

“Closer,” Lan Zhan said, and Wei Ying’s smile turned into a sly grin as she put her arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders, shifted the weight of her body until she was sat squarely on Lan Zhan’s lap, her thighs spread out on each side of Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan’s arms reached out to circle Wei Ying’s waist, pulling her in until they were pressed right up against each other.

“How about now?” Wei Ying said, and her voice had dropped a few tones as she looked down at Lan Zhan, their lips almost touching. Lan Zhan leaned up and kissed Wei Ying again in lieu of a response. This time when they kissed, it was hungrier, some of that energy from the dance floor coming through in how Wei Ying ran her fingers through Lan Zhan’s hair and tugged so she could lick into her mouth. Lan Zhan groaned at the feeling of Wei Ying in her mouth and her hands shifted from Wei Ying’s waist to grab at her ass, squeezing the softness of her cheeks. Wei Ying whined and rocked into the touch, shifting so she was pressed even closer to Lan Zhan as if she wanted every part of them to be touching. Lan Zhan dragged her lips away from Wei Ying’s and nuzzled back onto the spot where she had left a bruise earlier, biting down again so the mark would darken and Wei Ying threw her head back and keened. Lan Zhan wanted to make sure the mark stayed for days on end, wanted to give Wei Ying a whole series of marks that would line the side of her neck.

Wei Ying was gasping, nails digging into Lan Zhan’s arm, by the time Lan Zhan had worked back up to the soft spot where her neck and jaw met. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said frantically, and the room was quiet enough that Lan Zhan could hear every time Wei Ying’s voice caught when she bit down at skin again. “Touch me, Lan Zhan, I need you to touch me,” Wei Ying whined and then she was pulling Lan Zhan’s hands up until they slipped underneath her top, until they rested on her breasts.

“What do you want, Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan said, cupping Wei Ying’s breasts and feeling the weight of them in her hands. “Tell me what makes you feel good, Wei Ying. What gets you off.” Wei Ying drew her hands away from Lan Zhan’s head so she could pull her top off before leaning back into Lan Zhan’s touch. Wei Ying looked so small in Lan Zhan’s hands right now, she thought.

“I want – want you to play with my tits,” Wei Ying said, drawing her hands back around Lan Zhan’s neck, face red.

“Mmmhm?” Lan Zhan said, and grazed a thumb over Wei Ying’s nipple to see her reaction, and Wei Ying was so responsive, shuddering at the touch. Lan Zhan repeated the action, watching in fascination as they grew taut. “You’re going to have to give me a bit more than that.”

“I–” and Wei Ying’s voice faltered for a moment. “Fuck, Lan Zhan, I want you to tease me, okay, I want you to tease my tits until I’m begging for more.”

And what was Lan Zhan to do but exactly what Wei Ying had asked for? She teased Wei Ying’s nipple with a finger for a few more seconds before rolling it in between her thumb and forefinger, satisfied at the way Wei Ying cried out. Then she ducked her head down and kissed the arc of Wei Ying’s other breast, then bit into the flesh. She alternated between bites and kiss, working her way closer to the nipple as she palmed Wei Ying’s other breast, teasing Wei Ying into submission. And even though Wei Ying was plaint in Lan Zhan’s arms, she was still guiding Lan Zhan, in the way she rocked against Lan Zhan’s thigh, the way she pulled and guided Lan Zhan’s hands and lips to where they needed to be, the way she said more, more, more and Lan Zhan took and took until Wei Ying was an utter mess.

Lan Zhan’s hands trailed down Wei Ying’s body and slipped underneath her skirt now, tracing the edge of Wei Ying’s underwear. Wei Ying bucked her hips up and Lan Zhan took that as an invitation, fingers slipping under the damp fabric. She brushed her fingers up and down Wei Ying’s folds. She was so wet and warm already, squirming under Lan Zhan’s caresses. Her fingers brushed up to Wei Ying’s clit and she began to circle it in sturdy, assured movements. Wei Ying was reacting perfectly under Lan Zhan’s touches, her words giving way to little gasps, thighs clenching as she tried to position herself on Lan Zhan’s lap so that Lan Zhan’s fingers gave her just the right amount of pressure. She liked teasing Wei Ying, she found, switching between touches which were just right and then pulling away so the pressure was too light just when Wei Ying’s whines got louder, liked the push and pull between them as Wei Ying would try to get closer each time.

“Wait, Lan Zhan, wait–” and Lan Zhan stilled immediately, fingers drawing away as she looked up with concern. Wei Ying’s hands were clenched tightly on Lan Zhan’s shirt now, fabric fisted beneath her fingers. “I just need a moment, or I’m going to come,” Wei Ying said, still breathing heavily.

Lan Zhan did not see the problem with that outcome. She said as much.

“No, I don’t want to come unless I’ve got something inside me. Unless I’ve got you inside me,” said Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan sucked in a breath like she had been punched in the gut. Wei Ying was going to ruin her.

“And I’ve barely even gotten to see you yet.” Wei Ying tugged at Lan Zhan’s shirt and Lan Zhan let Wei Ying take it off, let Wei Ying unhook the back of her bra carefully and loop her arms through the straps. Wei Ying’s eyes were huge as she did this, her gaze running down Lan Zhan’s breasts now that they laid bare.

Lan Zhan moved to unbotton her trousers, and Wei Ying scrambled off her lap so that Lan Zhan could pull them off, alongside underwear. When she turned back to find Wei Ying sat in the middle of the bed, she found her struggling to find the zipper of her skirt, which was bunched up against her waist. Lan Zhan leaned over to Wei Ying, running her hands along the top of the skirt until she found the ridge where the zipper was hidden.

“Let me,” Lan Zhan said and Wei Ying let her unzip the skirt and tug it down Wei Ying’s hips and down her long, long legs. Wei Ying tugged off her underwear while she was at it, laughing a little when it got stuck around her ankles and she had to bend over to yank it off. Wei Ying’s laugh was so light, a giggle to herself, and Lan Zhan couldn’t help but feel impossibly fond at the fact that it was Wei Ying she was naked in bed with. She had always known Wei Ying was gorgeous, but seeing her like this, with her golden skin and beautiful tattoos laid bare was another thing altogether. It wasn’t so much the body but who it belonged to, Wei Ying, whom she wanted and wanted her back. Wei Ying, her best friend and partner and lover.

Wei Ying succeeded in pulling her underwear off and tossed it away to a corner of the room, and then she was sideling up to where Lan Zhan was perched up by her elbows, watching, and pressing a soft kiss onto Lan Zhan’s lips. Then Wei Ying pushed Lan Zhan back by the shoulders until she was pressed into the mattress, kissing all around her face and laughing as she did so: a kiss to the corner of Lan Zhan’s lips, a kiss on her cheek, up to her jaw, a quick nip of the earlobe, down her neck to her collarbone and back up to her lips again.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said between their kisses. “Can I touch you more? Kiss you more?”

“Aren’t you already doing that?” Lan Zhan responded, hand coming up to push a strand of hair off of Wei Ying’s face.

“Yes, but– you know what I mean,” Wei Ying said, her lips pressed along the side of Lan Zhan’s collarbone and coming closer and closer to the center of Lan Zhan’s chest.

“You can touch me however you want, but I’m not sure I do,” Lan Zhan said, amused. “I did only figure out I was a lesbian an hour ago.”

Wei Ying looked up with an annoyed expression on her face. “You don’t need to be a lesbian to figure out when someone is trying to – are you really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan responded. “We said we’d speak about things from now on,” she added, recalling the conversation they had on the bus, when Wei Ying confessed that some days it felt like she would say a million words but never ever got around to what was at the heart of the matter, how hard it was to actually speak about things, Lan Zhan, you know, things?

But mostly Lan Zhan just wanted to hear Wei Ying say what she wanted.

“Fine,” Wei Ying responded, and her face grew red. “I want to eat you out, okay? I want to kiss you all over your body and eat you out until you come on my mouth. Happy?”

Now Lan Zhan was the one who felt her cheeks heat up, at the idea of Wei Ying mouthing down the length of her body, licking at her pussy until she shattered. She cupped Wei Ying’s face and drew her into a kiss again, biting down on the bottom of Wei Ying’s lips as she did so. “More than,” Lan Zhan said, more breath than sound in her words.

Then Wei Ying was really kissing her everywhere, hands running up and down along the length of Lan Zhan’s arms, as she kissed the tops of Lan Zhan’s shoulders. Fingers press into Lan Zhan’s hips as Wei Ying lapped at her breasts in turn. Trailing her fingers so they met Lan Zhan’s hands and interlocking them as she kissed around the curve of Lan Zhan’s stomach, down to the hip bones.

“Sorry, sorry,” Wei Ying said, laughing as Lan Zhan jolted up when Wei Ying stuck her tongue into her belly button. “Just wanted to see what would happen when I did that.”

Then Wei Ying was pressing kisses that went lower and lower, down the side of her hips and onto Lan Zhan’s thighs. Wei Ying released her hands from Lan Zhan’s hold and slid them down to Lan Zhan’s hips. Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying turned her gaze back up to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes, dark with desire.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan said to Wei Ying’s unspoken question, and then Wei Ying was nudging her thighs apart, slipping into the space where Lan Zhan’s legs had been a minute more. She leant down again and this time her kisses ran up the insides of Lan Zhan’s thigh, her fingers mimicking the movement of her lips on the other side, and Lan Zhan had never felt so cherished before, as Wei Ying paid attention to her every reaction.

“Beautiful,” said Wei Ying as her fingers reached Lan Zhan’s pussy and traced around the lips. Lan Zhan shuddered, watching as Wei Ying drew herself up slightly so she could watch her fingers gather the wetness coming out of Lan Zhan’s body, fascinated. As Wei Ying circled her fingers around Lan Zhan’s clit, adjusting the pressure until it was just the barest tease, a light touch that made Lan Zhan desperate for more. Then Wei Ying drew her slick fingers away from Lan Zhan’s body and sucked them into her mouth, closing her eyes as she did so.

Lan Zhan felt like she might pass out from the sight.

Wei Ying’s eyes snapped open, and they were dark, darker than Lan Zhan had seen them ever before. It could have been a result of the half-lit state of the room, but Lan Zhan thought that they would have looked the same even in broad daylight. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, and there was no hesitation in her voice anymore. “Let me eat you out. Please.”

Lan Zhan tilted her head in agreement, too breathless to speak, and Wei Ying was leaning down, wrapping her arms around Lan Zhan’s thick thighs and pressing kisses onto Lan Zhan’s pussy. Wei Ying’s tongue darted out to lick against her opening and Lan Zhan keened at the feeling, at how sensitive her body felt at this moment. Wei Ying traced her tongue around the edges of her folds and then she was properly eating Lan Zhan out, hungry, generous laps of the tongue against her clit that had Lan Zhan shivering with every touch.

When Wei Ying dipped her tongue up into Lan Zhan, she couldn’t help but reach out for Wei Ying’s, hands reaching down to her shoulder blades. Wei Ying seemed to grow even more enthusiastic at the touch, one hand pulling away from Lan Zhan’s thighs to grab her hand and pull it up to where her ponytail was, encouraging Lan Zhan to grab onto the hair and tighten her hands around Wei Ying’s head as she licked into Lan Zhan. Wei Ying pressed her thumb to Lan Zhan’s clit and Lan Zhan felt her stomach clench as the tension in her body grew tighter, tighter, tighter. Then Lan Zhan was coming harder than she had ever come before, Wei Ying keeping the pressure on her clit and continuing to fuck Lan Zhan with her tongue as she rode out her orgasm, gradually getting slower as Lan Zhan began to feel oversensitive.

Lan Zhan pulled Wei Ying up from between her thighs and Wei Ying looked wrecked, mouth wet with Lan Zhan’s come and skin flushed with her hair falling out of her scrunchie. Lan Zhan felt nearly out of her mind with desire, surging forward to pull Wei Ying back into her arms and kiss her. She tasted herself on Wei Ying as she devoured Wei Ying’s mouth, and Wei Ying moaned into Lan Zhan’s mouth, grabbing onto her shoulders to find purchase.

“Lan Zhan, please, I need your hands on me, need your fingers in me,” beggedd Wei Ying between their kisses. “Need you to fill me up.”

Lan Zhan flipped them over and pressed Wei Ying back into the bed with no resistance, Wei Ying rambled non-stop about how much she just needed Lan Zhan’s fingers needed Lan Zhan needed anything. Lan Zhan felt heady as she slid two fingers over Wei Ying’s pussy, Wei Ying drenched from eating just from Lan Zhan out. Wei Ying whined and tried to grind down on Lan Zhan’s hand. There was so much trust in the way that Wei Ying let herself be boneless and needy in front of her, knowing how difficult it was for Wei Ying to verbalise these desires.

Lan Zhan slid the two fingers which had been circling Wei Ying inside of her, and Wei Ying arched her back, trying to angle her body so it would find the spot she wanted.

“Stop,” said Lan Zhan, sliding a hand over Wei Ying’s stomach. Wei Ying stilled, but her hips kept jerking up slightly as if she couldn’t help it. “I can’t finger you properly unless you stay still,” she reprimanded, and Wei Ying whimpered a little more but stayed still this time.

“Good,” said Lan Zhan, pumping her fingers in and out of Wei Ying, curling her fingers upwards so they stroked against the sensitive spot on the inside of Wei Ying’s body. Wei Ying’s hands clenched against the bedsheets when Lan Zhan found the right spot, eyes shut and gasping into the bed as she tried to stay quiet.

“You don’t have to be quiet,” Lan Zhan said. “There’s no one here but me. I want to hear you,” she added, and then added another finger on the next slide in. Wei Ying shuddered feverishly but she turned her head away from the bed and began to let out small panting noises which melted into the silence of the room which grew louder and louder.

And then Wei Ying was pulling at Lan Zhan’s arm, eyes wide and frantic with desire. “I need more, Lan Zhan, please give me more,” she said. Lan Zhan hummed, slowing her movements down as she considered. She could slide another finger in, fuck Wei Ying with her fingers until she cried.

Then she remembered the dildo tucked away in her nightstand, pretty blue and delicate. How good it made her feel when she fucked herself, how gorgeous it might look to watch Wei Ying breaking apart on her cock. Lan Zhan drew her fingers out despite Wei Ying’s protestations and turned to her nightstand, opening her drawer and taking out the dildo and the harness that lay next to it.

“No, Lan Zhan, that’s the opposite of what I meant–” Wei Ying stopped mid-sentence when she saw what Lan Zhan was holding. “You own a strap on?”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan said, moving closer so Wei Ying could see what she was holding in her hands.

Wei Ying took the dildo and harness from Lan Zhan, looking in admiration. “Your cock is so pretty, Lan Zhan,” she said, running her fingers over the faint white detailing that patterned the dildo. “So pretty like you.” Wei Ying blushed at the statement, as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Then she looked at the harness and bit her lip. Looked up at Lan Zhan. “Will you let me ride your cock, Lan Zhan? Please? Let me ride your cock until I come?”

Lan Zhan couldn’t speak. She nodded, and watched as Wei Ying unraveled the harness and slip the dildo through the hole and locked it in place, letting Wei Ying slip Lan Zhan’s legs through the harness and tightening it so it stayed in place.

“It’s going to feel so good inside me, I can tell,” Wei Ying said as she pressed Lan Zhan down into the bed, lifted a leg over so she was hovering on top of Lan Zhan. “You’re going to make me so good, Lan Zhan, with your thick pretty cock.”

Lan Zhan placed her hands on Wei Ying’s hips, breath tight with desire. This wasn’t the desire to come, but the desire to make Wei Ying feel good, to make Wei Ying feel as good as she had made Lan Zhan felt just now. Wei Ying leaned close, her hair curtaining around them as she did. Her scrunchie had slipped out of her hair sometime while she was getting fingered, and Lan Zhan liked the way it blocked out everything in sight except for Wei Ying.

“Next time, I’m going to teach you how to fuck me with this until I cry,” Wei Ying said, and Lan Zhan’s heart rose at the phrase next time, let it echo out in her head. Then Wei Ying was lowering herself onto Lan Zhan’s cock slowly, her thighs shaking a little as she did so. Lan Zhan's hands were gripping onto Wei Ying’s hips, her heart beating rapidly as she watched Wei Ying sink down incrementally, eyes closed as she took in every sensation.

“You okay?” Lan Zhan asked when Wei Ying leaned her head on her shoulder, breathing heavily.

“Good. More than good,” Wei Ying said, sounding fucked out already. “Should have known you would have a large cock, Lan Zhan. You never do anything by halves, do you? I feel so filled up right now.” Wei Ying started shifting her hips slowly back and forth, testing the give of Lan Zhan’s dildo as she fucked herself on it slowly. She whined a little more when it hit the spot she wanted, and Lan Zhan felt her grip on Wei Ying’s hips tighten at the sound. She rocked up a little just to see what happened and Wei Ying’s whine turned into a moan.

“Yes, Lan Zhan, please keep moving like that,” Wei Ying panted, and Lan Zhan felt more confident now, letting her hips lift up in a steady rhythm. “Harder,” Wei Ying said and Lan Zhan thrust up in response, Wei Ying keening at the feeling of Lan Zhan’s cock deep inside her. Lan Zhan let go of her hands from Wei Ying’s hips and wrapped them around her back so she could get better leverage, rolling her hips upwards in forceful movements as Wei Ying moaned in response. It was a heady feeling, knowing she was the one making Wei Ying feel like this, feeling Wei Ying’s full bodied shudders when she ground into the right spot. It didn’t feel like Wei Ying was guiding her anymore, but rather that she had let go, lost in the pleasure of the sensation. All the while Wei Ying couldn’t stop talking, saying things like “You’re so good Lan Zhan, you’re so good for me. It’s like your cock was made for me, filling me up so well.” Lan Zhan felt impossibly close to Wei Ying in that moment, Wei Ying’s pleasure a part of her own and then Wei Ying started to move too, rocking back onto Lan Zhan’s cock to meet her thrusts urgently, leaning in to kiss Lan Zhan until they were just gasping into each other mouths.

“Close, close, close,” Wei Ying said as her hips moved faster, and then she was coming, coming on Lan Zhan’s cock, falling apart in exactly the way Lan Zhan had hoped she would. Lan Zhan fucked her through her orgasm, Wei Ying’s words turned into an incoherent babble which she mouthed against Lan Zhan’s neck. Lan Zhan slowed to a stop once Wei Ying’s came down from her orgasm, her whole body going limp, and started to pull away so that she could slip the strap on out of Wei Ying when Wei Ying stopped her, still lying on top of Lan Zhan. Wei Ying sat herself back on Lan Zhan’s cock, and lifted her head up so she could find Lan Zhan’s right hand. Interlaced their hands together.

“Not yet,” Wei Ying said. “I don’t want to be empty yet.” She drew their hands up to her lips and kissed each of Lan Zhan’s knuckles softly. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath.”

“You can have all the time you want,” Lan Zhan said, and pulled her other hand from Wei Ying’s hips to wrap around Wei Ying’s back, holding her close. Wei Ying leaned into the movement, dropping her head back on Lan Zhan’s chest.

“Was that good for you, Lan Zhan?” whispered Wei Ying after a moment. “Did you like it?”

“I did,” said Lan Zhan, running her fingers through Wei Ying’s hair, trying to loosen a knot that had formed. “I want to do it every day.”

Wei Ying laughed at that, a soft little laugh. “Every day,” she said. “Even when we’re old and have arthritis from working hard at the sheep commune?”

“Every day,” confirmed Lan Zhan. The knot had come undone, and she weaved her fingers through the length of Wei Ying’s hair. “Unless we’re too tired. Then I can give you a massage and we can sit together by the fire until we fall asleep.”

“Sounds nice,” said Wei Ying, sounding sleepy now. “Wanna have Wen Ning and Wen Qing and Qin Su and Mianmian and Sangsang and Zixuan there too, even though we’ll never get peace from all the complaining. Maybe we can have geriatric dance parties.”

“With the lights?” Lan Zhan asked.

“Of course with the lights. Shiny pretty Kusama lights, glittering just like us,” Wei Ying mumbled, eyes drifting shut. Lan Zhan hummed in response.

They would have to get up soon, Lan Zhan thought, clean themselves up and possibly change the sheets before they fell asleep. But for now she let herself lie with Wei Ying in her arms, thinking of sheep communes and little dots of light around them as they danced.

“I’m not talking to you,” said the voice when Wei Ying picked up the phone. “Hand the phone over to Sangsang. Or Qingyang. Or anyone who’s not you.”

“They’re getting drinks right now, Jiang Cheng, so you’ll have to put up with me unless you want me to hand the phone over to Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying rolled her eyes at Lan Zhan, who was sitting next to her at their booth in the student union.

“NO!” Jiang Cheng’s voice crackled through the call with how loud he was yelling. “She’s the source of the problem. I don’t want to talk to either of you.”

“That’s homophobic, didi,” Wei Ying responded.

“What’s homophobic is the way you hid away a girlfriend for an entire year without telling me, only to have me find out through a fucking Facebook relationship status change. Who even does that anymore? The only people on Facebook are old people and students in desperate search of housing,” Jiang Cheng screeched, his volume of speech never dipping even a little.

That had been Lan Zhan’s request, actually. She felt annoyed at Wei Ying’s brother, whom she hadn’t even met yet.

“We’ve been together for three days, not a year,” countered Wei Ying.

“I don’t believe you, not with all that talk about Lan Zhan this, Lan Zhan that this entire time,” Jiang Cheng said. “That’s still three days you hid her away from me. Does a-jie know?”

“Um. No! She just found out, like you did. On Facebook,” Wei Ying said, and now she was starting to look a little stressed.

Yanli did know, actually. Wei Ying had texted her the morning after Lan Zhan and her had gotten together. She had gotten Lan Zhan to take a selfie with her for Yanli, and they were going to get brunch tomorrow.

“Anyways, you said you weren’t talking to me so here’s Lan Zhan. Bye! Love you!” Wei Ying thrust the phone at Lan Zhan, mouthing the words save me.

Lan Zhan took the phone and lifted it to her ear. “Jiang Cheng,” she said.

“Lan Zhan,” Jiang Cheng responded at a perfectly normal volume. “Look. I have a lot to say to you and I’m sure a-jie will handle the threats portion, but you seem like you make Wei Ying happy and that’s what matters to me. Anyways. I need your help with something.”

Lan Zhan raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“It’s Wei Ying’s birthday in two weeks, and I’m coming down from Liverpool to cook and set up a dinner party for her. Sangsang and the rest of them are already in the know. Can I get you to keep Wei Ying out of her flat for the whole day? Just take her to see something morbid like Marx’s grave or something, she’ll love it.”

“I can do that,” Lan Zhan responded. She had already started setting up plans for Wei Ying, and Highgate had admittedly been one of her plans.

“Great. I’ll add us all to a group chat in a sec." Jiang Cheng paused. "And nice hearing from you at last, yeah? Wei Ying’s said a lot about you.” Jiang Cheng hung up then, having used up his politeness quota for the day.

Lan Zhan handed back the phone to Wei Ying, a small smile on her face.

“What did Jiang Cheng say to you just now? Why do you look like that?” Wei Ying asked, taking the phone back from Lan Zhan but keeping their hands interlaced.

“Oh, nothing,” Lan Zhan replied. “Just the usual shovel talk, that’s all.”

Wei Ying rolled her eyes again, but before she could say anything else the rest of the group returned with their drinks. They shuffled around Lan Zhan and Wei Ying, locked in a heated argument about whether having Love Island during the winter defeated the point of the show.

Everyone's phones except for Wei Ying’s buzzed at once, but it was lost in the conversation.